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#Most of the time I ignore them but sometimes it hits nerves and I black out and just start talking

mishellii · 4 days

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♢ᴘᴇᴛ ɴᴀᴍᴇꜱ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴꜱ♢

naruto, sasuke, shikamaru, kiba, shino, neji, iruka & kakashi

a/n: sooo,, i SHOUld be working on my uni essays and on the bf!neji texts BUT this had been sitting in my notes app for a while so i decided to post it ;D (the neji texts will come soon i promise). some are longer, some are shorter for which i apologise,,,,,, please ignore typos, i can't spell & enjoy MWUAH

likes & reblogs appreciated <3

warnings: some NSFW parts! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! :) also not proofread as usual

masterlist

♢ɴᴀʀᴜᴛᴏ ᴜᴢᴜᴍᴀᴋɪ♢

✿oh my baby boy

❀first off: angel. 100%.

✿because u are his angel u feel me

❀he can't go a day without telling u

✿then also just the basic baby

❀but mostly when he wants something from u or he's apologising for dumb stuff he's done

✿puppy eyes and all

❀and also during sexy time

✿it's his most used name for u there

✿fight me on this

❀big on his own self made nicknames for u

✿for instance: u fell down the stairs once?

❀"hey, stairs, how you doin'"

✿and just silly ones like: boo, pookie, apple of my eye

❀he's weird like that c'mon we been knew

♢ꜱᴀꜱᴜᴋᴇ ᴜᴄʜɪʜᴀ♢

✿now this guy is a wild card

❀he'd prefer ur name through & through

✿but he'd slip in a casual babe sometimes which makes ur knees weak obviously

❀because he barely ever calls u that

✿if ur married he'd only call you his wife

❀doesn't even let you answer questions on your own sometimes just so he can hit them with

❀"well, MY WIFE, thinks you suck ass, so.."

✿during sex he can be quiet mean

❀I DONT THINK in the derogatory way but more in a teasing way

✿"c'mon, sweetheart, look at me."

❀when ur just about to black out??

✿but like i said

❀not big on pet names but he'll use them more often if he knows u enjoy it <3

♢ꜱʜɪᴋᴀᴍᴀʀᴜ ɴᴀʀᴀ♢

✿pretty

❀just pretty bro.

✿not ALL THE TIME, especially not in public as i don't think he's big on PDA

❀but in the comfort of ur own 4 walls? definitely

✿now don't HATE ME for this but,,,

❀woman. and brat.

✿but only in petty situations, like when ur scolding his lazy ass and he hits u with a "go easy on me, woman, i just woke up."

❀or u've been going on his nerves while he's working

✿,,i'm busy, brat.''

❀in bed tho???

✿love or doll

❀i'm almost CERTAIN.

✿like,, can u imagine?? in his dumb fucking charming voice ???

❀PFFF i'm on my knees

♢ᴋɪʙᴀ ɪɴᴜᴢᴜᴋᴀ♢

✿now this fucker

❀teasing names through & through

✿ur shorter than him?

❀"hey, shortie, need help?"

✿ur taller than him?

❀"hey, giant, how's the weather up there?"

✿he's a DICK ok (affectionately ofc)

❀but he can be sweet too i promise

✿he's having fun with calling u bunny during sex or simply baby

❀also ???? "okay, boss." when he's been annoying u all day and u finally snap at him?

✿he's a menace with nicknames i'm telling u

♢ꜱʜɪɴᴏ ᴀʙᴜʀᴀᴍᴇ♢

✿you probably guessed it and bully me if you'd like but,,,

❀bug or lovebug

✿come oooon he loves his bugs AND he loves you?? it fits PERFECTLY

❀not one to do it infront of other people either but in your private space he just wouldn't stop calling you one of these

✿i also see him using the regular honey but the abbreviation so hun because it's short and sweet and he doesn't like those long ass names

❀apologies if ur name is long LMAO mine is too tho

✿takes the hun into the bedroom but prefers a gentle love while having sex

❀shino's not a sweet talker in my mind, but the pet names make up for it FOSHOU

✿ALSO big brain idea i just had:

❀i think shino can't fully express his emotions verbally so before going on missions he definitely writes u letters and that's where he's blooming

✿''u keep me going everyday, sunshine.''

❀and it doesn't even matter if you have a bubbly personality or not

✿UGH lovesick fr

♢ɴᴇᴊɪ ʜʏᴜɢᴀ♢

❀this pretty princess doesn't even know ur name when ur alone with him

✿ESPECIALLY when ur texting

❀sweetheart, love & darling

✿he'd make u fall in love over again whenever he calls u one of those i'm just saying

❀because he's always so sincere when he's talking to u it drives me crazy just thinking about it

✿during sexy time too, he would NEVER

❀& i will die on this hill

✿NEVER use any degrading names for u

❀ur his baby don't make him do that

✿even when ur fighting, he'd always address u in such a kind way i'm actually going insane

❀"have you had dinner yet, dear?"

✿ sedate me pls

♢ɪʀᴜᴋᴀ ᴜᴍɪɴᴏ♢

✿AAA this guy

❀soo,, like father like son,,, angel

✿u can't change my mind

❀being the kind hearted person he is, it just fits u can't tell me off

✿but i will also say he'd use some funny ones in private because we all know he's just a silly lil guy deep inside

❀i'm thinking toots & peach

✿especially when greeting u !! like ''ey, toots, how's it going?''

❀during sex he will be quiet awkward at the start of ur relationship, settling in angel as he's most familiar with it at first

✿but after some time he'd pull a babydoll or gorgeous on u

❀i mean,,, i'd cry but idk about y'all

✿oVERALL he loves using pet names and wouldn't be opossed to u calling him some sweet ones as well <3

❀call him handsome and he'll go through the roof

♢ᴋᴀᴋᴀꜱʜɪ ʜᴀᴛᴀᴋᴇ♢

✿AHEM

❀so this man,,

✿at the start of ur relationship he's such a shy lil bean so he'll only use your first name

❀but once he's been with you long enough he gets so so comfortable

✿starts of with the regular baby because u are his baby aight.

❀his most frequently used one too i'd say

✿but then he'd go like

❀"hey, beautiful." "y'alright, sweetheart?"

✿and idk about u but i'd faint

❀HE KNOWS ABOUT HIS AFFECT ON U TOO

✿uses it against u during sex SO OFTEN

❀grunting a "there y'go, darling." into your ear with a sly smirk on his lips

✿i'm (s)creaming

❀but he's a very private person so don't expect too much of that in public !!

✿a side from a "yes, ma'am" when u tell him not to die on a mission <3

a/n: i hope this doesn't SUCK ahemm,,, and i'll see you beans next time bye bye x

devider by @enchanthings

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sissylittlefeather · 7 days

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We Can Make the Morning

(or Angel Take 7)

A one-shot

A/N: I've had this idea for a while and just decided to go ahead and write it the other day while I was watching Elvis On Tour. I hope y'all enjoy this 1972 Elvis x fem!reader one-shot!

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, kissing, cussing, handjob, ejaculation, oral sex (f receiving), possible concussion

Word count: ~3.7k

Greensboro, North Carolina. You've lived here your whole life. And you've been an Elvis fan since you heard his first record at the tender age of fifteen. Now you're in your early thirties and you finally find yourself at one of his shows. You've never managed to go to one before and something about this feels like destiny. Still, the best you could afford is a seat at the front of the balcony, but you're next to where he'll walk into and out of the arena. If you push, you might be able to get a pretty good glimpse of him, and that's all you've ever really wanted. You dream of more, but you know better than to think he's going to notice you or anything.

April 14th, 1972 is show day, finally. You get dressed and try to ignore your nerves as you fix your hair and swipe on your makeup. You opt for your favorite bell bottoms and a cropped peasant blouse. It's not the dressiest outfit you own, but it flatters you and shows off all your best assets. Not that it matters much. He'll never see you.

At the arena, you make your way to your seat and try to survey whether you'll be able to get to a place where you can really see him up close. Eventually the lights go down and the music starts up. You head over to the railing, but there's a hundred girls between you and the tunnel. There's no way you can fight through them this time. You'll have to try again at the end of the concert. You head back to your seat with a new determination.

The show is incredible.

He's wearing a dark blue jumpsuit with a belt that has an owl on it, as he points out during one of the songs. Even as far away as you are, you can tell he looks amazing. His voice is on point and his performance is unmatched. You sit in silence with your lips parted slightly and your eyes wide. It's like he's made of stardust. And you're not going to let him pass by without seeing him up close.

He ends the show with Can't Help Falling In Love and then bows with his arms held out holding the silver cape. You know he's going to move fast through the tunnel, so you run to the railing and push your way through all the women gathered there. It's hot and hard to breathe and your heart is pounding. You're pressed up against the railing where it hits you just below the waist. Your position on your platform boots is precarious but you lean over anyway, just in case he reaches up. You feel yourself getting lightheaded from the excitement, but you're not going to miss this for anything, no matter how you feel. Just then, you see him headed for the tunnel. Your ears start ringing and the edges of your vision go dark. You can't believe it's really him. As the blackness envelops you, someone behind you pushes on your back and you feel yourself falling...

******

On stage, Elvis knows he's putting on a hell of a show. The energy from the crowd is electric and the camera crew seems excited by the footage they're collecting. In truth, he's ready to be done with this damn movie. Ready to be done with this damn tour. He enjoys the stage portion but everything in between is grueling. And honestly, the loneliness has been setting in pretty hard for him, especially in the middle of the night. Sometimes he picks up a girl at a show, but most of his encounters are empty. And even if he does find someone he likes, the conversation is lacking or she's so starstruck she can't do much more than giggle or try way too hard to impress him in bed. He longs for a real connection.

On stage, though, he lives his dream every night. This show in North Carolina is particularly satisfying for some reason and he comes off the stage with a smile on his face. He makes his way quickly to the car, heading for the tunnel lined with screaming fans. Looking up briefly, something strange captures his eye.

He reacts quickly without thinking, throwing his arms out to catch you just before you hit the ground. Somehow, you fall perfectly into his grasp and he holds you like a baby. He's stopped running, so his entourage encircles him to urge him forward.

"You can't stop here, man!"

"Put her down; let's go!" He looks down at you in his arms and realizes you're out cold.

"I can't! She's out, guys!"

"You're gonna have to drop her!" He shakes his head vigorously.

"No. I'm bringin' her with me." The guys make eye contact across him. They know when he's like this there's no arguing with him. He starts moving forward again with you in his arms.

At the car, the guys try again to get him to drop you with a security guard, but he refuses.

"It's my fault she's like this! I'm not leavin' her!" He gets into the backseat of his car, holding you on his lap. The other guys roll their eyes and squeeze in with him. It was a tight fit even before you were there, so now it's almost impossible for them to smash into the car. He wraps his arms around you tighter and holds you to him while the guys pile in. Sweat from the show slides down his face and he looks at you in his arms. The gentle lines of your features are intriguing and he wonders what your name is. For a moment, he forgets where he is and does something a little strange. He pulls your face to his and presses his lips to your forehead. That's when your eyelids flutter and you stir.

******

You sit up quickly and look around, trying to figure out where you are. You're in a car of some kind with a bunch of men you don't recognize. You try desperately to remember how you got here.

"Hey, honey. Are you alright?" When you hear his voice, you whip your head around.

"Oh." You answer breathlessly. "It's you."

He chuckles softly and his smile almost causes you to pass out again.

"It's me. I'm sorry, honey, I just didn't want to leave you there in that state."

"State?"

"Do you remember falling over the wall?" You cover your face in embarrassment.

"Oh my god..." He laughs softly again.

"Honey, it's okay. It happens."

"This has happened before?!"

"Well, not exactly..." One of the guys cuts in and you realize you're sitting on Elvis's lap with his arms around you. You fight to keep your composure.

"We're here, boss." The door opens and the guys climb out of the car until it's just you and Elvis.

"I'd like you to stay, so I can keep an eye on you. Is that okay?"

"I'm not sure it's necessary..."

"I say it is. Come on." You're not going to argue with him. He pats your bottom and you climb out of the car, followed closely by him.

On the sidewalk, you stumble a little, still woozy from passing out. He wraps his arm around your waist and steadies you.

"Do I need to carry you, honey?" The concern on his face is so endearing you almost melt into the ground.

"N-no, I think I'm okay."

"Alright. I'm gonna keep a hold of ya, though." You nod and he smiles genially. Then, the two of you make your way into the hotel surrounded by his bodyguards. At the elevator, he tries to dismiss them, and they refuse to leave him alone, but when he speaks sternly and insists that he'd like to be left alone, they listen and watch as he gets on the elevator with just you. Once the doors slide shut, he turns to you and puts both hands on your hips.

"What's your name, honey?"

"Oh! I'm y/n. I'm really sorry about this."

"Don't be." He waves his hand to dismiss your apology. "I just want to make sure you're okay. Do you remember if you hit your head on the way down?"

"I don't. I think I might've been out before I fell."

"You still might've hit your head." The elevator dings and the doors open. He keeps one arm around your waist and ushers you down the hallway to his room. You look at him in his jumpsuit and wonder where he might possibly have a key stashed. He bends down and pulls it out of his boot, standing and unlocking the door. You stumble a little walking across the threshold and he steadies you again, watching you with even more concern. Once you're in the room with the door shut behind you, he seats you next to him on the couch. You yawn and blink slowly. Somehow, you're exhausted.

"Are you sleepy?"

"Mhmm." You answer, yawning again.

"Okay. We need to keep you awake. If you hit your head, you shouldn't go to sleep."

"I don't feel like I hit my head." He reaches out and puts his hand on your cheek.

"I'm not willing to take any chances, honey." You nod slowly and notice that his eyes flick down to your lips. He clears his throat and pulls his hand back. You're a little surprised that he almost seems shy.

"You're sure I can't just lay down?"

"No, baby, you gotta stay awake." He looks down at himself and then to the bathroom. "I need to shower, though. But I hate to leave you alone."

"I really think I'm okay." He looks at skeptically as you yawn yet again.

"No. You're comin' with me. You can wear your underwear in the shower. I won't touch you. C'mon." He makes you stand up off of the couch and takes your hand, walking you to the bathroom. You want to tell him that you'd happily get in the shower with him naked, but you don't. He puts you in first, facing the back of the shower and then you hear him undress and get in behind you. You're dying to peek and see what he looks like without his jumpsuit, but he's being so kind that you can't violate his privacy like that. Still, the knowledge that Elvis Presley is naked behind you in the shower makes you a little crazy. Just when you think it can't get much more endearing, he starts humming. Your heart melts when his humming turns to quiet singing and you're dying to turn around and wrap him in your arms. He's so much more precious in person than you ever dreamed he could be.

You're lost in a reverie when the shower turns off and you feel him turn to face you. You can tell he's looking at you and you want to turn around so badly. Everything inside you is screaming at you to just turn around. But it's like you're frozen where you stand. When he kisses your shoulder, though, your head rolls to the side and you're desperate for him to touch you. He doesn't though. Instead, he whispers.

"You stay here, baby. I'll get you a towel." He gets out of the shower and hands you a towel. "There's a robe hanging on the door. I'm right outside."

You dry off and slip out of your wet undergarments, wrapping the fluffy robe around yourself. When you open the door, he's sitting on the couch with a towel around his waist. He looks up at you in the robe and swallows deeply. You sit on the edge of the bed and smile awkwardly. He returns your smile.

"I'm going to get dressed. Stay here and don't go to sleep."

"Yes, sir." He chuckles softly and moves back to the bathroom. You settle against the pillows and hastily break your promise to stay awake. The warmth of rest washes over you and your eyes close.

******

Elvis puts you in the shower in your underwear facing away from him. It's impossible for him not to notice your figure, though. The curve of your ass in your white panties about drives him crazy. He strips naked and turns the shower on. Through the whole shower, he tells himself not to get aroused just at your proximity. Once he's finished, he pulls the handle to make the water stop and then turns to face you. Your hair and your body are wet from the shower and he wants to touch you so badly that it almost hurts. Without thinking, he leans down and presses his lips to your shoulder. It's an indulgence he should have resisted, but something about you is intoxicating. He breathes deeply and pulls himself away to get you a towel. Once he does, he walks out into the room and sits on the couch. What is it about you that has him so out of sorts?

When you come out in the robe, it takes all of his self control to keep from ripping it off of you. But he wants more from this. He wants to know you, not just fuck you and move on.

"I'm going to get dressed. Stay here and don't go to sleep." You give him a salute and he chuckles, making his way back to the bathroom. After about thirty seconds, though, he has a bad feeling. He doesn't even get his pants on and walks back into the room still in his towel.

He was right. You're asleep.

He moves to the bed quickly and sits next to you, shaking you gently.

"Hey, baby, wake up." You don't stir and he starts to panic. He thinks back to how he woke you up in the car and leans in and kisses your forehead. Still, you stay asleep. He kisses your cheek and then finally, he presses his lips to yours. Finally, your eyes flutter open and he smiles. "You're back."

******

"I am. You kissed me."

"I'm sorry; I was getting desperate." He looks into your eyes and your smiles fade.

"Do it again." You whisper and he nods, pulling your face back into his. He crashes his lips into yours and the kiss moves to a fever pitch as he parts your lips with his and slips his tongue into your mouth. He puts both hands on your cheeks and you sit up on your knees, ready to crawl into his lap. Thats when he notices his erection under the towel. It's impossible to hide and he pulls away, looking down, and trying to push his cock down to make it less obvious.

"Oh, god, I'm sorry, honey."

"Don't be. It's okay." He shakes his head.

"No. It's not. I brought you up here just to keep an eye on you and now this." He's ashamed at his reaction to you. He feels your finger under his chin and you pull his face to looking into yours.

"Elvis, I've loved you for as long as I can remember. Meeting you? Knowing you? It just confirms everything I've ever believed to be true about you." He melts at your words and pulls you in close to him, kissing you deeply. But he pulls away again.

"I don't want to hurt you. I don't know if you should do... this..."

"Then maybe I can do this..." You reach your hand forward and run it down his chest to the top of the towel. Then, he inhales sharply as you move further down to where his cock is erect underneath it. You slide your hand under the towel carefully and take him in your palm. He moans softly as you begin to stroke him, moving his foreskin back and forth gently.

"God, baby, that feels so good. You don't have to-"

"Shhh. You've been taking care of me all night. Let me take care of you." His hips buck into your hand as you continue to pump him. He grunts and leans his head back as you move your hand a little faster.

"Mmm, baby..." He moans as you push his foreskin back and collect a bead of precum that's gathered there, running your thumb across his sensitive head. He leans back and lets you move the towel out of the way to free his cock and stroke it in the open. You pump him a little faster and he groans again. "It's so good, baby."

He feels your lips on his cheek as you move your hand on him and turns to kiss you. He looks into your eyes and puts his hand on your cheek, leaning in to capture your lips again. Then, he presses his forehead to yours and whispers.

"Thank you..." You smile and continue moving your hand up and down on him gently. He throws his head back and his hips buck again. "Fuck, baby, I'm gonna-"

A guttural groan rises from his throat as he cums, hard, and shoots his climax all over your hand. You pump him through his release and he shudders into your palm. He uses the towel to wipe your hand clean and then lays back on the bed.

You giggle a little and lay back with him. He turns and looks at you.

"I haven't been that satisfied with a handjob in years."

"I haven't given one in years." You smile. He rolls over and smothers you in kisses, forgetting for a second that you might be hurt. He pulls back and looks into your eyes, reaching down to undo the tie on your robe. His hand runs underneath it onto your stomach and down to your hip.

"Can I make you feel good too, honey?" You nod frantically and he laughs out loud. Then he stops and looks at you seriously. "Alright, just don't move around too much. I'll never forgive myself if this hurts you."

"I really think I'm fine." He sinks to the floor between your knees and pulls you to the edge of the bed. He spreads your legs, kissing the inside of each of your thighs gently. You moan softly as he leans forward and drags his tongue up your slit to the bundle of nerves at the top.

"Oh, god, Elvis!" You whimper as he continues to move his mouth on you. He swirls his tongue over and around your clit in tantalizing circles. The sensation drives you wild and your pussy clenches around nothing as he licks you. He dips down and pushes his tongue into your slit several times before slipping one of his long fingers inside you. You whine and arch your back as he pumps his finger in and out and goes back to dragging his tongue over your clit. The pressure of your orgasm builds as he works and you know you won't last too much longer. He pulls back a little and flicks your sensitive bud with the tip of his tongue, teasing your orgasm out of you.

"Cum for me, baby." He whispers, pressing his whole mouth to you and moving his tongue on you hard.

"Oh, yes! Yes!" You cry out as your orgasm crashes into you, pumping through your veins like electric shockwaves. He continues working his mouth on you as you ride out your high, your hand in his hair.

When you finally come back down and stop shuddering, he pulls back, wiping his face with his hand and laying next to you on the bed.

"Wow." He chuckles and looks over at you. "No, seriously, I've never had a man...get me there."

"Really?"

"I mean, they've tried, but never successfully. It's like I was waiting for you."

"Honey, I feel like I've been waiting for you too." He rolls over and put his hand on your cheek.

"What do you mean?"

"I can't explain it. Something about being here with you, feels like I was meant to catch you."

"It feels like I was meant to fall." He presses his lips to yours, kissing you deeply. You shimmy out of the robe and get under the covers with him. He holds your naked body close to his own, running his hands over you gently as you talk.

You spend the rest of the night in conversation and soft touches. He tells you stories about his life and listens attentively when you share yours. The connection between you strengthens with each passing hour and each soft caress and each sweet kiss.

When the sun peeks through the curtains of your hotel room, he pushes a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

"I think you're okay, baby. You haven't had any other symptoms and it's probably been long enough now that you would have."

"Should I leave?"

"Not unless you want to."

"I don't."

"Then stay. We made it to the morning. We can rest now." You nod and he settles on your chest. You're both asleep within minutes, wrapped around each other.

Eventually, there's a harsh knock on the door and someone calls to him from the other side of it.

"Hey, boss, we gotta be wheels up in twenty."

"Okay." He hollers back, groaning and stretching.

"I'm sorry I kept you up all night." You whisper.

"Don't be, honey, that's the best night I've had in years." You both get up and start to get dressed. When you're fully put back together, he grabs you and pulls you into a warm embrace.

"I hate that you're leaving." You mumble into his chest.

"Come with me."

"What? No, I can't."

"Why not?" You wrack your brain for a reason, but there's nothing keeping you here. Nothing that's more important than him.

"Okay." You look up into his face, your arms still wrapped around each other.

"Really?"

"Yes. Can we swing by my apartment and let me grab a few things?"

"Baby, I'm Elvis Presley, we can do whatever we want." He leans in and kisses you softly again. "You know somethin'?"

"Hmm?"

"I know I caught you when you fell, but I think you're the one who saved me tonight." He takes your hand to lead you out of the room and into your future. "My own little angel fell right out of the sky. I'm so glad you did."

******

The End

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

@ccab @elvisfatass @elvisalltheway101 @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @tacozebra051 @your-nanas-house @deniseinmn @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @louisejoy86 @rjmartin11 @from-memphis-with-love @deltafalax @atleastpleasetelephone @cinnamoroll-things

#elvis presley #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis fanfic #elvis #elvis presley fic #elvis smut #elvis presley x reader #elvis x reader #elvis fanfiction #elvis presley x y/n #elvis fic #elvis presley fanfic #elvis presley smut #elvis x you #elvis x y/n #elvis presley x you

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beefromanoff · 7 months

Text

Project Mockingbird Ch. 2

summary: they arrive at the compound, where some are eager to meet the new girl and others...not so much.

pairing: Bucky Barnes x OC

author's note: this got so much more traction than I was expecting with the prologue and chapter one, I tried to get this one up quicker to keep it going! thank you so much for reading, xoxo

chapter list

_________________________________________________________

It turns out that flying on a jet was a hell of a lot faster, and smoother, than flying commercial. Or as a stowaway on a cargo plan. Neither of which Charlotte enjoyed, but sometimes you just have to make do. It was around 7:30am when the jet touched down on a long airstrip in the middle of a vast forest.

Both women had dozed off during the flight, the pancakes and alcohol lulling them to sleep with the hum of the engine making it nearly impossible to resist. They taxied through down the runway under the cover of the woods before entering a clearing. There was a massive hangar open before them, several different types of aircraft visible through the open garage door. This seemed to be the most corporate of the fleet, with the rest ranging from tactical to full blown heavy artillery.

Charlotte sat up in her seat, peering out the window. The nerves were hitting her for the first time. She saw a handful of uniformed men and women working in the hangar, performing maintenance on the aircrafts.

“Good morning sunshine,” Natasha smiled, still tucked under a blanket.

“Morning.”

“Welcome home.”

When the ramp opened, an eager uniformed man scampered into the cabin. “Agent Romanoff.” He saluted, waiting for her to nod before he continued. “How was the flight? Can I take your bags?”

“Don’t know, I slept through most of it.” She gestured to the duffel bag and small suitcase Charlotte had retrieved from the hotel before they left. “You can help Ms. Rossi with her bags.”

Giving a tight-lipped smile, Charlotte followed Natasha down the steps. Unabashedly holding her heels by the straps, Nat strode across the concrete floor to a set of sleek looking doors. Doing her best to ignore the questioning glances, Charlotte kept her eyes straight ahead and followed the one person she knew into unfamiliar territory.

The doors led to a hallway with elevators to their right. The noise coming from the end let her know the hallway opened up to a larger room, one that sounded like it was already bustling with activity. To her relief, Natasha hit a button on the elevator instead of continuing towards the noise.

“I’ll show you to your room first. I figured you’d want to get settled in, get cleaned up.”

“Thanks,” Charlotte nodded. “I think I have glitter in more places than I even knew existed. And I smell like tequila.”

“There are worse things to smell like.” Natasha grinned as they stepped out into another lobby area. “This is the training side of the compound. The hangars, weapons manufacturing, shooting range, training facilities, it’s all over here. This is where the SHIELD agents work. It’s the more…populated side.” She gestured out the window at a dozen trainees jogging. “They don’t live here. The only ones that do are the ones on the team.”

“You mean The Avengers?” Charlotte raised an eyebrow.

“You could say that,” She gave a wry smile. “I prefer to say roommates.”

They stepped out into the fresh air and Nat pointed out a black ATV. The breeze felt nice on her cheeks as they drove down a paved path across the grounds. The entire thing seemed to be completely secluded, as if it were dropped in the middle of the woods. Charlotte couldn’t even see the entrance to the place. They passed a few smaller buildings, which Natasha dubbed storage and “room to grow”; as well as a beautiful lake off to the left. Marveling at the fog spread across the water, she didn’t realize they’d made it to their destination.

The building in front of them had a similar exterior to the last one they’d come from. It was gray, very modern looking, though smaller than the training side. This one seemed to be only three or four stories tall, but it extended out over the water with balconies jutting from the higher levels.

“This is the residential building. Most of us stay here full time, but some of us have rooms at the Tower in New York City, too. You can come next time I go up there, if you want. It’s more peaceful here, though. Personal preference, I guess.” She opened the door for Charlotte to walk through. “First floor is a private training facility, second is storage and a theater room, third and fourth floors are rooms, and the fifth floor is a common area, kitchen, and a meeting room.”

They stepped into another elevator where Natasha punched the button for the fourth floor. “I put you on my floor. Just so you’d have a friendly face.” She paused. “Although, sometimes the team can be a little too friendly in their own right. I don’t see an issue with them warming up to you.”

The doors slid open and they entered a small common area with doors on every side. Natasha led her to a door on the far wall and gestured for her to enter. “We can set up your keypad in a minute, everything here is print based. Some people had trouble keeping track of their keys.” She rolled her eyes, but Charlotte was too enamored with the room to notice.

It was plain, just the bare bones of a room, but it was perfect. A big, king-sized bed bathed in sunlight from the window behind it. Large closet and an even bigger bathroom. She dropped her duffel bag on the floor and looked around.

“You’re welcome to decorate or do whatever you want, it’s all yours.” Natasha smiled as she watched her take everything in. “Here, let’s set up your keypad so I can give you some space. I’ll leave my number, just let me know when you get bored or hungry or feel like socializing.”

She closed the door behind her, leaving Charlotte to settle in.

I think this will do. She thought as she sank into the plush bedding.

__________________________________________________

“I just don’t understand why you didn’t tell me.” Bucky grunted as he slammed his fist into the punching bag.

“I did tell you,” Steve protested before being interrupted.

“No, you told me we found someone with potential HYDRA affiliation. You said the team was working on tracking her down and making contact.” Bucky stopped hitting the bag to snarl his words out. “What you didn’t say was ‘Hey buddy, there’s a chance we found someone kept in the same hellish lab as you and we’re trying to get her to come shack up with us. Oh, and she may or may not have been bred to kill you.’”

Sighing, Steve sat on the bench next to the sparring ring. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I just didn’t know how to say it.”

“You mean you didn’t know how I’d take it.” Fists slammed into the bag.

“Well,” He raised an eyebrow. “Is that such a stretch?”

“I think I’m handling it pretty well.” Bucky gave a forced smile as he stepped away from the punching bag, beginning to unwrap his right hand.

“It was my idea to keep the details under wraps,” Nat’s voice echoed from across the training room as she walked toward them, wet hair darkening the collar of her sweatshirt. “I didn’t mean for it to seem like we were keeping things from you. There’s just so much we don’t know.”

Bucky frowned. “Seems like there’s quite a bit you do know.”

“I’ll tell you anything you want.” She smiled, always able to walk the line between cold sarcasm and genuine warmth.

Natasha took a seat on the bench next to Steve, both of them watching Bucky as he threw the sweaty tape away. He stayed quiet for a moment, thinking.

“What’s her name?”

“Charlotte. Charlotte Rossi.”

“Where’d you find her?”

“Most recently, the high stakes room at the Wynn.” Nat smirked. “Prior to that, I saw some patterns that caught my interest and dug a little further.”

“I read the file.” Bucky’s face was stoic.

“Do you have any memory of her? Any recollection?”

His brows knit together, thinking. “No. I don’t remember much from that…from those years. Fragments, maybe. If I saw her face it might, I don’t know, might bring something back.”

Steve watched his friend carefully, looking for any sign of distress. Bucky seemed calm, controlled, albeit a little strained.

“Where is she?”

“Upstairs.”

Bucky nodded slowly. “She’s here…for good?”

“To be determined. My offer wasn’t exactly for a week’s vacation.” Natasha stood, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry I wasn’t up front with you on this. I promise not to go around you again.”

“I get it.” He looked at Steve. “I know I don’t have the best track record for handling questionable information.”

Grinning, Steve stood to join them. “What? You think throwing Sam out of a moving Quinjet because he told you he’d be leading point on the mission was an overreaction?”

Bucky ran his tongue over his teeth, suppressing a smile.

“No, totally reasonable.” Nat elbowed him. “Just like when he ripped the arm off of Tony’s last suit because he said Bucky’s arm was a ‘war relic’,”

“Alright, point made,” Bucky groaned, shrugging her hand off and walking towards the door.

_____________________________________

Charlotte: is it too late for breakfast?

Natasha: I know I said there are no stupid questions…..but ;)

Charlotte: music to my ears

Natasha: meet me outside the first floor elevators in 5.

Charlotte slipped her phone back in her pocket, grinning. Thank God superheroes have a sense of humor. Well, at least one does. She made a mental note to ask if FedEx delivered to the compound, as she was in dire need of an online shopping spree. The majority of her clothes were tailored to Vegas, where she’d taken up residence the past few weeks. With the way she drifted from place to place, it wasn’t uncommon for her to leave an entire wardrobe’s worth of clothes in a hotel closet when she left town. For this trip in particular, she’d brought a few of her absolute favorite dresses, three sets of heels, and two designer bags she’d treated herself to after a particularly lucrative poker win.

Unfortunately, not much of her attire lent itself to casual daytime wear. She had a pair of jeans and trusty white sneakers, and luckily a plain white tank top shoved deep into her suitcase. Unless there was some kind of Avengers’ gift shop on the premises, she’d be repeating this look pretty much daily.

She made her way to the elevator and when the doors slid open on the first floor, Natasha stood waiting for her. A tall, clean cut blonde man stood next to her, who Charlotte recognized instantly.

“Hi…” She stepped out cautiously as the duo grinned.

“Charlotte, you remember Steve.” Nat seemed to be the most amused of all three of them. The man nodded, holding his hand out for her to shake.

“We were never officially acquainted.” His handshake was firm but his eyes were kind. “Steve Rogers.”

“Sorry about that,” She pursed her lips. “I thought you were coming after me for my lack of patriotism.”

Steve chuckled. “From what I’ve heard, you tried to represent our country too. Maybe we’re not so different.” The sharp look Natasha shot him as he referenced her Team USA mishap didn’t go unnoticed. Charlotte didn’t seem to take offense, simply raising an eyebrow as she carefully considered her response.

“I think I can stick a landing a little better than you.” Her face was blank, but her eyes crinkled at the corners ever so slightly, an almost-smile.

“I don’t doubt it.” Steve smiled. “Welcome to the compound.”

“Thanks.” Charlotte kept her eyes on him as he led the trio through the doors.

Natasha fell into step beside her, showing her unspoken camaraderie. Years of undercover work had honed her ability to read body language and pick up on cues undetectable to anyone else. As she watched Charlotte over the past twenty-four hours, she noticed several things. She was calculated, but not cold. Her humor was dry and she kept a poker face throughout most of her interactions, hints of a smile showing through as she warmed up to someone. She was quick-witted, but seemed to think through her replies thoroughly as she decided if someone was trustworthy or not. A familiar tactic for someone who wasn’t sure who they could rely on. Her persona was confident, relaxed, assured. Her body told another story.

When she stood, her posture was erect. Her weight was slightly shifted forward on her toes, like someone prepared to cut and run at any moment. She could stand still, facing the person in front of her, but her eyes would flick around to every detail happening around her. She presented herself like a predator, but her behavior was that of prey.

It made sense. She was taken, put through horrors beyond comprehension at the hands of HYDRA. Prey. She was altered, trained, brainwashed to be an elite fighter, an assassin. Predator. But now? She was somewhere in between. Not quite a predator, not quite prey.

As Natasha strode down the path towards the main building, she couldn’t help but feel like even Charlotte didn’t know which category she fell into.

“This is the cafe,” Steve gestured when they walked into the largest building. Charlotte recognized it as another entrance to the same place they’d left earlier that morning. This was where all the noise was coming from. It was a large room, flooded with natural light from the floor-to-ceiling windows. There were two dozen circular tables in the middle of the room, most of them empty. A few had small clusters of people in navy blue windbreakers or jackets, all emblazoned with the trademark “A” of the Avengers. There was a kitchen area to the right, a long countertop spanning part of the wall. “They serve three meals here every day, it’s all up for grabs. This is where all the agents and recruits eat while they’re here. We have a kitchen back in our building, but unless one of us feels like cooking, there’s not much more than dry cereal there.”

They walked towards the kitchen, a few agents pausing as they walked through the room, looking at Charlotte over their clipboards and conversation. Natasha pulled open the door to a commercial sized refrigerator, revealing a massive selection of food. Everything from fresh fruit to Smucker’s PB&J sandwiches. Eyes wide, Charlotte glanced at Natasha.

“Have at it,” She nodded, grabbing an apple and biting in.

When they’d sufficiently raided the kitchen, Steve led them out another set of doors to a patio area. To the right, they could see the edge of the lake peeking around the treeline. To the left, there was an open field, the targets on the far end indicating a shooting range. Charlotte lowered her arms and let the barrage of snacks tumble onto the table.

“I didn’t think superheroes ate junk food,” She raised an eyebrow, pulling open a bag of mini-donuts.

“Superheroes don’t, Avengers do.” Nat winked and stole one from the packaging. “Plus, not all of the agents here are combat focused. There are plenty who work in the control room or in tech and engineering and don’t have to give a shit about being mobile.”

“Well here’s to not being mobile.” She held her chocolate milk in the air and the three of them toasted, just in time for a dozen agents to jog by on the path out in front of them.

Bucky stood on the path around the lake, hidden under the cover of long morning shadows. He watched as Steve raised his plastic chocolate milk into the air, appearing to cheers with the two women at the table. One was Natasha, the other he assumed was the new girl. Charlotte.

She was around Natasha’s size, a little more overtly muscular. He could see her toned arms clearly thanks to the tank top she was wearing. They seemed relaxed, talking and laughing. He took a deep breath and looked down at his phone.

Five Minutes Ago

Steve: Come meet us on the patio by the range. You can meet Charlotte. We’re showing her around.

Sighing, Bucky shot back a reply before shoving his phone into his pocket.

Bucky: Sorry - told Sam I’d help him with something. Next time.

He turned and resumed his run around the lake, going the opposite direction of the compound. Steve glanced up from his phone, brow furrowed, just in time to see black hair disappearing around the treeline.

#james bucky barnes #bucky barnes #avengers #bucky barnes x oc #bucky fanfic #bucky fluff #winter soldier #sebastian stan #winter soldier fluff #avenger!reader #avenger!reader x bucky barnes

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jeffblimchat · 3 months

Text

A post for all new and longtime Jeff Blim livestream viewers and chatters. Welcome! (updated on March 8 2024)

*This tumblr has a discord server btw, https://disboard.org/server/1178351989009170573

*check https://starkid.fandom.com/wiki/Jeff_Blim to compare facts here. For now, the wikia is more updated than this since everyone knows where it is. But this post has further information than the one in wikia.

Sometimes we read the same questions over and over on his stream and he has answered all of them in the past. Or accidentally ignores/did not read the old, repeated question, so he can't answer because he's busy doing stuff on the stream. And sometimes, instead of giving the answer to our fellow fans, we just give joke answers instead because we are that silly. I'm trying hard to remember fun facts/stuff he shared on his livestreams and will update if I can. Please help with mistakes on recollection to avoid fake facts. Thank you...

I. The Content in his livestreaming. Well, most days we listen to demos, Jeff live composing his music/songs and some of them are spoiler-less clues to up-and-coming StarKid shows, showcase his difficult and complex relationship with Logic and Stream labs (gee, that sounds familiar. There is screaming/shouting and desk hitting, followed by amazing wit to calm his nerves) listen to him improv and say funny things sometimes based on what Chat is typing about. And have that clout chaser and clout black hole named Jon Matteson as his guest in his streams, most of the time via phone call. If Jon ever gets on his stream, good luck trying to get attention from Jeff on the chat lol. The bromance is strong in this one (although I have gotten Jeff's attention once while Jon was on stream but it was about Jon haha).

Sometimes Jeff just wants to hang out and talk anything, jam with his piano, answer personality quizzes that we give him, give out audition advices (Uncle Jeff's audition hotline. make sure to identify when he's being sincere and when's he's joking/being sarcastic), talk about his hobbies, do spreadsheet baseball... On his hot takes, they are plainly hot takes and you don't have to agree with whatever he says. His hot takes are, half of the time, for entertainment purposes only. Send acting audition help inquiries to [email protected] to make your dream work. More cheaper charges than the one in Broadway Plus. You can also DM Uncle Jeff on his active social media accounts (Twitch, IG) No silly messages pls. Just acting audition help business ONLY. His rates are 75 dollars per hour, 50 for half. To those who can afford, he has a patreon page if you want downloadable copies to the songs he composes on his streams. The link is in his Twitch and YT pages.

II. Music 1. He started learning the piano as a young boy. His teacher was a Russian woman (I can't remember her name). Then he switched to the trumpet and told his father he didn't want to play the piano anymore. 2. He was never a member of a drum corps but went to a camp for it by the The Cavaliers. 3. He only joined Amazin Blue, an a cappella group in UMich, because he wanted to be in a band. He ended up becoming their music director because he wanted every member to have a song where they provided the main vocals, which is something that he butted heads with previous music directors in the past. He won an award for a cappella arrangement for his work with Amazin Blue. Their two albums (Shades of Blue and Self-Titled) can be found in Bandcamp One of his former fellow members in AB is also famous now. The half of the team behind Dear Evan Hansen, Justin Paul.

5. He was a trumpet player at the church where he grew up. (one of his first jobs). 6. According to him, he used to listen to awful Christian rock while growing up. 7. His dad is a retired band director. 8. Likes The 1975 9. He mentioned in Feb 23, 2024 on his stream that he does not want to sing Get In My Mouth live again because he does not want to relive the memory of playing a giant spider. He still thinks it's a great song.

III. Jobs First: Taking out the trash for a neighbor. Second: Trumpet player at the church where he grew up. Third: High school - Trumpet player and played as an "executioner" at a Medieval Times Dinner Theater (??? I'm not well-versed about this as I don't live in the US). After college, while looking for acting jobs and writing TTO. New York City Fourth: Carrying signs for Disney at Times Square. Fifth: Theater Usher (his favorite job). Los Angeles Sixth: working for THAT infamous Los Angeles escape room that he got from Nick Lang. Seventh: Full-time streamer, actor, singer, composer, dancer, acting coach, Internet Uncle to 20+ nephews and nieces 😆 around the world. A. One of his fave TV jobs is his appearance on HBO's Veep because he loves the show. B. On the 911 episode where his chef character accidentally hurts himself, he said he didn't particularly enjoyed his time shooting that ep because he was strapped with a heavy object on his chest during the bloody scene. C. Shooting 24/7: Lego Maniac was fun Eighth: He said a few times he's not auditioning anymore and will only take roles offered to him. Whether it's a joke or not, let's just take that as fact for now lol. There was a phase in his life that he got tired of auditioning (NYC, while writing TTO).

IV. StarKid Stuff

(while answering a personality quiz and as of late 2023 or early 2024) Fave Hatchetfield musical: Black Friday. (while answering a personality quiz as of late 2023 or early 2024) Fave LiB: Nibbly. For the longest time, he considers "Lost Without You" as his/one of his favorite songs that he wrote because it's his first ballad. Generally, if you ask him what's his fave StarKid song or what's his favorite play/musical he was a part, he can't/won't choose because he considers all of them his favorite. 2. I've read this many times, Max Jagerman was never written for Jeff. He may replicate the energy but he is too old to play a high schooler. Can you imagine him doing the shirtless scene during Dirty Girl? His body is no longer like when he did Aladdin in Twisted. He is no longer in his 20s. 3. He said he had the most fun composing for Black Friday.

V. StarKid Tangent Stuff 1. As of Feb 2024, Jeff announced that Rim Tim Timmy is dead. RIP Rim Tim Timmy. :,-( Meanwhile, his sister (chat head canon and Jeff laughed at the name) Rim (Ram) Tam Tammy is alive and well, thank yewww.... VI. Movies 1. For list of movies he loves, check out Rim Tim Timmy's Movies Movies Movies. Yes, you don't know half/most of the movies he likes cause he's old and you're a Gen Z-er. Get a grip. 2. His first and only appearance so far in a full length film is in his brother's indie movie Mondo Hollywoodland. As of now, the movie is available to watch for free in some streaming sites. VII. Likes 1. Coffee once a day, most of the time spending 10 dollars a cup from a shop. He has thankfully quit on nitro. He describes it like a drug addiction he needs to curb. He wants the baristas who are serving him to have that indifferent vibe.

2. Spreadsheet baseball. He plays with classic/ old school famous baseball players. He used to just play on an excel spreadsheet that he made himself until a fan who showed up on one of the TGWDLM showings and told him that he can compete with other people online.

3. Is a fan of the up and coming sport of arm wrestling. He only watches people arm wrestle, not engage in one.

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yrluvjane · 2 years

Note

maybe...

a part 2 of go back to your new boyfriend w sirius 👀

The things I hate about you.

Part one

Sirius Black had successfully went from annoying the living daylights out of you to completely ignoring your existence. Every time, since the fight, your tried talking to him he was either:

Suddenly missing something or had forgotten about a class.

In a deep conversation with a very awkward and nervous-looking James Potter .

Having his tongue down Marlene’s throat.

The last one was the one that bothered you the most, Sirius was known for his playboy streak and was almost never seen with same girl twice, except for Marlene. Because of this, many rumors and theories were spread. Each more absurd than the rest, but even then, the sight of them together made a very tight and twisted knot in your stomach.

And the whole thing was making you lose your mind. Sirius no longer bothered you and that bothered you. You had completely lost any interest in any of your studies and the fact he was taking this much of your focus and concentration was embarrassing enough.

You had spent three whole days trying to understand this abnormal rage brewing in your chest, which then you realized was jealousy. You were jealous of Marlene. Because you liked Sirius. The realization hit you like a brick to your head.

You kept trying to push the thought away, trying to simplify as a side effect of all the studying you’ve been doing. And so you did, you took a break and went to Hogsemede.

But every time you saw Sirius and Marlene, you had this urge to punch both of them.

You only realized how stupid you sounded, when you took Madam Promfery’s advice and wrote all your feelings on paper.

You truly sounded like the main character of cliché enemies-to-lovers story, all you were missing was a best friend that would betray you and try to take Sirius away.

And all this led up to this moment right now.

You currently watched the hallway you were standing in waiting for Sirius to appear. It took you three whole days to plan this and you were quite anxious.

You took deep breathes hoping to calm your nerves but they only sky rocketed when the sound of footsteps reached your ears.

Your head snapped up and your eyes met Sirius's, causing alarms to blare in your head. His eyes widened and was about to say something but before he could even get a word in you pulled your wand out and petrified him.

"Oh my God, okay, okay. This is completely fine." You said to yourself as you levitated Sirius's body to an empty class room and faced his frozen body.

"Sorry, I just need you to listen and obviously there are more...comfortable ways to do this but this had the most promising outcome."

You took one last deep breathe and pushed your hair to the back of your ears. "Okay, I like you, like you like you. I know, "What?!" Trust me it shocked me too, but in this past week I realized lots of things. And one of those is just how much I miss your really annoying yet flattering presence. Yea, sure you're condescending, rude, annoying, obnoxious and I could probably go on till tomorrow. But the thing is, I like that stuff about you, or at least some of it but what I've realized I always classified it as hate."

"I hate the way you always flirt with me, it's disgusting, rude and completely inappropriate, but you do it to get a reaction out of me and sometimes it actually nice, it doesn't make me feel alone."

"Of course there are lots of annoying things about you, for example, the hair thing. Y'know the one where you push your hair back with your hands unlike Potter who runs his fingers through his hair. I hate it. And then sometimes you do it to me, whenever I'm studying, and it always ends up distracting. So I end up reading the same sentence fifteen times, and getting absolutely no work done.."

"I hate the way you keep staring at me, almost all of the time. During class, while were studying, at dinner, in the common room, on the courtyard and so on, it makes me feel really insecure."

"I hate the way your uniform is always untidy; your tie is always lose, your shirt untucked, your robe open and how you completely violate the rules by wear those rings."

"I hate how your really good at your studies but never want to show it, I watch you do your work, you have potential to go high places but whenever your in class you put on this "To cool for school" act that irritates me too much."

"I hate the way you follow me around and throw your arm around my shoulders as if were close friends. I hate the way you tell others I secretly love you whenever I brush you off."

"I hate it when you joke and make me laugh, I hate it when you say I'm uptight."

"I hate it when your right and I'm wrong, I hate it when you lie and leave me alone."

"I hate seeing you with Marlene, I hate it more when people make comments of how great you two seem."

"I hate it when you put me on the spot then call me shy, I hate it more when you hurt my feelings and make me cry."

"I hate the way you're not around and you don't talk to me anymore. But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you, not even a little bit, not even at all."

You shakily raise your wand, and cast the counter curse. You swallow as he stands up with wide eyes and looks at you. "I swear if you laugh, I'll punch you in the face." You say threateningly, as your eyes roamed his for any emotions.

He lets out a small laugh, "Did you just attack me, insult me and confess your love for me all in five minutes?"

"Six minutes and forty-seven seconds."

"Merlin, Y/n..." He says with a soft yet tired smile, looking at you silently.

"Say something, dammit!" You shout, completely on edge.

"Well, I was actually coming to find you. Your owl gave me this." He says, pulling something out of his robe pocket with a small chuckle.

He handed you your very-angry-and-emotional-feelings-letter that you must have left on your desk.

Damn you, Mr. Snuffles!

"So, you read my letter, what about the bloody ceremonial speech i just gave."

"You hate 17 things about me." He says walking closer, "And most of these seventeen I do because I like you."

At this point, he is shadowing you with his height, there was barely any space in between.

"What?" You asked with a dazed look.

"I like you too," He clarifies , one of his hands reach up to brush your hair back and cup the side of your neck, stroking your throat with his thumb, making your face heat up.

"The reason I was so angry last week was because everyone kept saying what a great couple you and Hillson made. I got so angry and took it out on you."

He uses his other hand too push a few strands of your hair back behind your ear, playing with ends as he stared deeply into your eyes.

"Then I came back to apologize but I heard some of the girls say, you locked yourself up. I went back to my room to think and thought that maybe it was just best to give up. So I avoided you and ignored you in hopes of getting you out of my head. I only got back to Marlene to get over you. Then I got the letter and came to find you right away."

You stayed silent for a good thirty seconds trying to absorb all this information, though it was quite hard with him tracing his thumb over your throat and collar.

"So you don't like Marlene." You stated.

He laughed and nodded, "You can rest assured, I don't like Marlene, only you."

"Good." You whispered as you laced your hands behind his neck, bringing his head down and attaching your lips to his.

#sirius black x reader #sirius black #sirius orion black #sirius x you #marauders era #sirius black x fem!reader #sirius black blurb #sirius black thoughts #sirius black fluff #sirius black imagine #sirius black drabble #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black x you #sirius x reader #sirius black one shot #sirius black angst #sirius black x y/n

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jessysapphireblue · 5 months

Text

One Piece Advent Calender Door 10

Door 10: Gingerbread Sunny

If anyone would come into the kitchen, the smell alone was to make you full. Fresh Gingerbread scent hung in the air, Icing and other edible decorations sprawled across the counter.

“Come on, work with me!”, you groaned while building the sunny together. It was a pain. Pieces falling off or ignoring the laws. The door opened and Jinbe came in. “Just hold you stupid piece! I glued you 3 times now so stick! Please!”, you whined. “Is everything ok?”, Jinbe asked. “Jinbe! It hates me. Mocking me, everything”

He came to you. “What is this?” “A Gingerbread Sunny, fully edible but it will not stick!” Another fall. “Damn it!”, you softly hit the table and the gingerbread fell into itself, making Jinbe laugh. “It was doomed to fall”, you sighed out. “Why don´t you use your magic?” “I´m not keen on using my magic to cook or bake. I want to do it by hand. Yes, when I need something from higher u I use my magic but otherwise, I do it per hand. But this...it resents me”, you eyed the fallen pieces as Jinbe bursted out into laughter again.

” Should I help you?” You eyed him. “Seriously?” He nodded with a soft smile. “JINBE! Yes please! Oh thank you thank you thank you~~”, you chanted. “Sure thing. What should I do?” “Just hold the pieces up, I glue it with sugar” “Ok”, sitting down, he held the pieces up and you used the frosting to make them stick.

It took a while before “YES! Sweet Mother of the Sea, it holds!”, you threw your arms up aft the finished sunny outline. “This looks like a mini Sunny” “Yes! Ah, thank you thank you thank you”, you clapped and swayed your body in happiness. “2 hours! My nerves! More and I would´ve looked like a ferret”

A rather loud laugh escaped Jinbe, tears brimming in his eyes. “You overdo” “No, my nerves were already on a thin string. You just saved them. Which means now-” You went to the kitchen and came back with tiny figures as “That is everyone”, stated Jinbe. “Yes! I made them first so they could harden. Everyone is there” “Even the flag” “Why of course! Gingerbread Sunny is the house of these little munchkins~”, you grinned .

“Now, on the Sunny or rather in front?” “Front?” “Front is good”, you nodded. Using a bit of icing you glue them to the ground, the flag behind. “We look like a little happy family” “You´re quite skilled” “In baking. On paper, only Luffy could recognize it” “Only Luffy-kun?” “Jinbe, only an idiot can recognize another idiot drawing” “Can´t draw?” “Not to save my life. Same as with sewing and from Sword Fighting, I don´t want to start. Luffy is better at it than I am”, you admitted and his eyes widen. “I suck at it”, you smiled. “Do you think there is missing something?” “Perhaps the water?”, Jinbe eyes the sunny. “Yes! Ugh, so dumb. Powder Sugar, lemon and blue food coloring...done~ A pretty blue”, you smiled and poured it over the ground, covering it halfway to the sunny. “Now this looks like a good replica” “It does. You even added the most finest details” “Why yes. Baking is mine. Why do you think Sanji lets me use the kitchen? And I tell you what. Expect to get overthrown with cookies here. The most don´t survive thanks to Luffy”

“Oh! Is that so? Well, he has a appetite” “A black hole, that is what he has! I made 6 baking sheets full of cookies for everyone and in 3 seconds they were gone. I catched him eating the last one and he broke it in half, offering me HALF. Not the entire one, no. Half” Jinbe had tears brimming in his eyes. “Ever since then, I make him a batch alone. Sometimes I wake up when he sleeps by me because of his munching on the cookies”

Just in that moment the door opened as Luffy and chopper came in. “Speak of the Devil”, you smiled. “JE! We are in need of hot chocolate! It´s freezing”, Luffy hugged you, his cold fingers sneaking under your Turtleneck pullover. He sighed because of your warm skin as “WHOA! Je did you made this?!”, Chopper was beaming. “Jinbe helped me build it together” “Luffy! Look Look!” “WHOA! ITS MINI US! You even made the flag!” “Of course. It´s our flag”, you smiled. “Jinbe,you also hot chocolate?” “Ah, why not” “Jinbe! You´ll love it! Je makes the best one” “Could I get marshmallows in mine?”, Chopper asked. “When we have some left, yes” “You´re the best!” “No, just weak by you all. Luffy, no eating! The rest should also see”, you said to your boyfriend. “You even have the swing! All the fine stuff” “As if I do our home half-hearted”, you admitted, Jinbe and you had to hear the gushing of these two until the rest came.

#luffy #luffy x oc #luffy x reader #luffy x y/n #monkey d. luffy #one piece #straw hat luffy #anime and manga #straw hat pirates #straw hat crew #one piece jinbe #first son of the sea jinbe #op jinbe #gingerbread

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bubbletaeeee · 2 years

Text

The Tease - Karina x Fem!Reader

REQUESTED: YES!

Content: angst, little fluff

Warnings: not really :)

A/N: So I mixed up the idea of enemies to lovers thing a little bit. I hope you like it 🥺 this took me a while. I’m still kinda new 🙂

WORD COUNT: 2.5k

You’ve been training at SM for a long time now. The days were long, stressful and painful. Being a trainee was always so difficult and tiring. But all of that changed once you were given the chance to debut with a group of girls: Giselle, Winter, Ningning and Karina. You’re called ‘Aespa’. Of course you had to get to know eachother and practice together before any kind of serious stuff like debut could happen.

It’s been 4 months so far with them and it has been great! All the girls were so sweet and kind. But Karina, she was always off with you.

Sometimes you even argued, and a lot of the time it would be about silly little petty things.

You’re sure that one time you had an argument in the dorms about a fricken onion, small petty rubbish always created a heated stir between you and Karina. The other members always felt the tension between you both and tend to cut in when they think things are going to get out of hand.

But you both knew that you weren’t going to ruin the chance of becoming successful idols just because you disliked one another.

So you just got on with it.

You ignored her most of the time and only really spoke to her if you had to be professional about something.

Over the time you’ve found yourself becoming rather irritated with some of her antics and acted up a lot more. Your sudden pettiness has only caused more tension with the taller girl.

Today you had dance practice with all the girls. You were working on your choreography to your debut song ‘Black Mamba’.

You didn’t mind practice too much, it was tiring for sure but you loved your whole concept and the song was totally energetic and got you going easily.

You came to a break after practicing the choreography 3 times. You felt so hot and sweaty already so you sat down on one of the benches for a drink and a quick breather.

The water bottle hit your lips and you let out a relieved sigh when the cold water washed through your tired body. As you put the water bottle back down onto the bench to your left. you could feel a presence next to you.

Turning to your right you could see Karina staring at you, almost into your soul.

It didn’t look like she was mad, nor happy.

She just stared at you.

So you looked at her with furrowed eyebrows, in confusion. Your expression obviously questioning her odd behaviour.

It didn’t seem like she got the hint so you asked "W-why are you staring at me, Karina?", for some reason it made you pretty nervous.

And with a sassy attitude she responded, "oh nothing", she leaned her head in her hand, still looking at you… up and down, hiding no shame.

"Ugh, jimin, what do you want?!"

She was starting to get on your last nerve now.

She always found little ways to piss you off.

But she just had to push her luck, "awh, why? Am I bothering you?", she cooed with a mischievous grin.

You took a deep breath to calm yourself.

From the other side of the room Winter could see you guys looking uncomfortable so she put on a cheerful face and sat between you both.

“Hey guys! Are you ready to get back to work?”, it was obvious she was attempting to distract you both and prevent anything nasty happening.

But you both ignored anything she was saying and stared at each other, almost like you were competing for who could look more intimidating.

But winter had enough and pulled both of you by the wrists to get back to practice. You just sighed in annoyance and did what you were asked.

After a couple of hours the girls all agreed they needed to stop and go shower, eat and take a rest.

Everyone separated to their dorms.

EVERYONE except you.

You stayed behind to keep practicing, honestly you were also tired but you wanted to push yourself to be better.

So you turned the music on and focused on the way you moved.

Every inch of your body ached, you were so exhausted. But you had to keep going.

So you did.

Until you gave out on your last attempt and fell to the floor on your knees out of breath.

You took a minute to stabilise your breathing and regain the energy to get up and finally get back to your dorm.

The sound of your heavy breathing was unexpectedly accompanied by the echoing sound of clapping behind you.

Your hand ran through your messy hair, turning around instantly to reveal one girl clapping her hands with no actual impressed expression.

You groaned weakly and stood up with a slight wobble in your legs.

"Karina… why are you here?”

She just chuckled quietly and handed you your water bottle.

"Just… don’t overwork yourself”.

She cared?

Miss Yoo Jimin?

You took a long sip of your water and looked at her expression.

She had a soft smile, but you couldn’t tell if she was being sarcastic or… genuine?

“Uhh- you- why do you care?”, you asked, authentically puzzled.

Instead of a verbal answer, she wrapped her hand around your arm and escorted you to her dorm.

You didn’t say anything and let her take you in.

As soon as the door closed you looked at her and went to say something but her oddly friendly tone cut you off, “take a seat”

You hesitated but sat down, not taking your eyes off of her, it was like as if you’d been kidnapped because the look in your eyes showed a hint of fear mixed with confusion.

Of course she noticed and pointed it out

"Gosh y/n chill out, I’m not gonna hurt you”.

This time you could actually reply, "then why am I here? Why did you bring me here?".

Her arms crossed over her chest and she rolled her eyes, “because… we need to start getting along. I mean, we’re going to be working together everyday for who knows how many years, and we have to live in the same building”, the way she explained it made it seem like it was so obvious and you were just absurdly dumb.

But it made sense, so you nodded slowly and agreed.

There was an awkward silence that filled the air.

It made you uncomfortable, and you’re sure it made her just as uncomfortable.

You anxiously played with your fingers until your voice broke the painful silence “umm.. do you wanna hang out. Or something then?”

Even though she was the one who brought you here and suggested you attempted to try and get along, you were still nervous she wouldn’t want to be around you.

But to your surprise she nodded and agreed before walking off into the kitchen.

You didn’t question it and just sat back on the sofa. A couple of minutes later, Karina came back with some snacks and threw them on the table in front of the sofa.

She sat down next to you and ate a little popcorn before turning on Netflix.

She looked to you and gave you a small smile before leaning back.

So… you guessed that you were going to watch a movie together.

You didn’t question it and just let yourself relax on the opposite end of the sofa. Throughout the film you both were silent, you nibbled on some sweets and ended up slowly drifting off to sleep curled up in a ball. About half an hour later, the movie ended.

Honestly you were so tired and sore from practice, you knew you pushed yourself a bit too hard today.

With a sigh, The girl next to you switched the tv off and looked over to your direction.

If we’re being honest, Karina didn’t entirely hate you. I mean, she always thought you were beautiful.

But seeing you fast asleep, she couldn’t wake you when you looked in such a deep, peaceful sleep. And looking over at you, she thought you looked absolutely adorable right now.

So instead she found a blanket and gently placed it over you.

Without a word, she left to sleep in her own room.

You see, the girl always liked you, but tried to deny it herself with jealousy. She tried to convince herself she was just jealous of your beauty, and that she didn’t really admire you like that. But deep down she knew she really liked you. To avoid rejection or judgement she never admitted it but instead just teases you as a way to cope with these feelings of hers.

The next morning, you were awoken by the sound of humming and running water.

Obviously Karina was taking a shower, but you didn’t remember falling asleep here last night.

You checked the time on your phone and stood up to go back to your dorm, it wasn’t far but you had to get ready for the day and get into the studio within the next couple of hours.

Just as you got up to leave, she’d left the bathroom, wearing just a towel, hair still wet.

You just froze and stared at her.

You couldn’t lie right now, the look of her made you nervous, butterflies appeared in your stomach at the realisation that the only thing covering her was a small towel.

She could see your nerves by the light blush on your cheeks and the flustered expression on your face. So she took the advantage to poke fun at you.

Smirking, she walked her way towards you, “going so soon jagi?”, you knew she was just trying to embarrass you more so you left quickly and went to your dorm in a hurry, leaving Karina laughing behind you.

You tried to forget about what happened and got yourself showered and all ready for the day. Almost 2 hours later, you found yourself in the studio with all 4 of the other girls, so of course including the girl you saw PRACTICALLY naked this morning.

But all thoughts were swept out of your mind quickly as you got to work with the other members. Soon enough, all of you were individually working on your own thing to get things done quicker and more efficiently.

Your job was the music, you felt still pretty new at this stuff so you had to focus real hard.

At one point you were stuck and you didn’t exactly know how to fix it.

Until you felt a warmth behind you and saw arms either side of your body, leaning over to press some buttons and help fix the small mistake you made. You just froze in place and let whoever it was do what they had to do to fix it.

Then a quiet voice spoke in your ear, "all fixed".

Slowly spinning your body around, you realised who’s voice it was. She didn’t even move, her arms still either side of you, leaning over you. She smirked and your gaze fell to the floor shyly, “uh- thanks”, you gulped.

Her hand came to your chin to gently lift you to look at her face.

“Y/n, why are you so nervous?”, the taller girl asked.

You’ve had enough of her mocking you just to see you all uncomfortable and nervous so you gently pushed her aside and spoke up, “I’m not nervous at all”.

And with that you left the room to get a snack and didn’t look back.

Honestly you couldn’t read Karina’s mind very well, but there’s always been a tension between you both, she always teases and makes fun of you and over time she quickly gained more confidence in taunting you even more. But you just couldn’t get it into your head why it made you so timid when she acted this way. She was almost like a bully, but never hurt you or even insulted you seriously, but she always did things to purposely irritate you a little or see you get worked up about it.

You thought a short walk to the vending machine down the hallway and a little snack could clear your head but the sound of footsteps behind took you to a halt and you stopped to turn around.

“Oh my god”, you whispered quietly and put your head in your hands.

“Karina… what do you want from me?”

Her footsteps approached you slowly.

“You’re cute when you’re all worked up”.

Heat made its way through your body and into your flushed cheeks. The comment made you blush but also frustrated you because you still don’t understand why she’s teasing you.

At this point, you felt like you’d had enough and started to ramble and let out your held in frustration and anger.

Until…

“I just don’t understand why you’re being like this, like you like me but you don’t like me and you’re just making me confused and craz-“

You were cut off by her lips on yours.

She was very gentle but it took you by surprise and made you take a step back to just stare at her with a hand on your lips, did she really just kiss you?

To not overstep your personal boundaries, she stayed where she was and spoke calmly.

“I’m sorry y/n. I just- you needed to stop talking”.

Still stunned, you couldn’t reply but instead still stared at her expression with wide eyes.

Karina began to explain herself, knowing that you were too shocked to actually say a word right now.

“Look… I’ve liked you for a while now. And I’m sorry if that took you by surprise, I just didn’t know how to tell you because well- it’s not exactly professional”.

After a moment of silence after her confession, you gathered your thoughts and had to question her just to confirm you weren’t hearing things, “you like me? like you LIKE like me?”.

Your confusion made her giggle in adoration.

“Yes y/n I like you… but it’s fine if you don’t feel the same, I’ll get it”.

You shook your head and ran to throw your arms around her neck for a hug.

Immediately her arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you closer.

“So… is this you rejecting me?”, she joked playfully.

You pulled back and tested her.

“That depends… are you going to keep teasing me like this?”

Her head shook immediately, “I promise I won’t”, she almost sounded desperate.

And her puppy eyes gave away all the emotions she held for you.

The look in her beautiful, dark eyes made you smile warmly.

Her new found sense of vulnerability gave you the chance to be confident.

Confident enough to once again press both of your lips together for a sweet, tender kiss.

She whined once you pulled away and held you closer

“More please”.

You giggled and fulfilled her affectionate request.

#kpop #kpop girls #fluff #fanfic #kpop imagines #aespa kpop #aespa #aespa karina #yoo jimin #yoo jimin x reader #karina #Karina x reader #fem reader #aespa x reader

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sunflowervolvimp3 · 4 years

Text

NFWMB (boxer!harry)

Warnings: language, nsfw content, alcohol, violence

Pairing: boxer!Harry x reader

Word Count: 30k (I got carried away)

A/N: So this got a little out of hand!! I will admit!! I did not mean to make this so long!! but it’s about the yearning people!!! the yearning!!! anyways I really hope you guys like this!! just a few disclaimers: my medical knowledge comes from google and my first-aid badge I got in girl guides so please do not take any of the medical advice in here as doctor recommended. also this is very long and if you’re reading on mobile it may make it crash? so try opening it on a web browser under the read more if you need to!! I really honestly can’t believe I managed to write 30k, but I love boxer!harry so much, and yes he does have long hair in this fic because I make the rules!! thank you to @adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy for proof reading this for me and putting up with my messages about it. also, the title is from NFWMB by hozier and i’d recommend listening to it as you read!! as always, feedback is appreciated!! and if you like it, please reblog it!! reblogging is the best way to show content creators support and encourage them to write more!!

{masterlist}

If money wasn’t so tight, there’s no way Y/N would be doing this.

She’s thought it over a thousand times, running every possible scenario and outcome in her head. More often than not, those scenarios end badly. Yet here she is, standing at the edge of stairs that lead to a gym below the streets of New York City. Men push past her to get below, muttering quick apologies as they bump into her. None of them are sincere, she notices, but why would they be? They don’t care about her. Y/N, on the other hand…she’s being paid to care about them. They’re why she’s here.

The offer had been posted on a bulletin board in the nursing student’s lounge on campus. It was a crumpled piece of paper, with a handwritten message scribbled across it. Y/N had spotted it when she was looking at the board for a summer job, and the uniqueness of it caught her eye. She had pulled it down from the board, reading it over.

WANTED:

Looking for an individual with medical background/first aid training.

Complete medical degree not required.

For all inquiries, contact Patrick Lawson.

Y/N remembers running her fingers over the phone number listed. It was a peculiar request, to say the least. Patrick Lawson, whoever he was, seemed to be searching for someone with medical training, but didn’t require a full medical professional. Still…a job was a job. And it had looked like it was the most promising thing on the board.

Later that day, Y/N had found herself calling the number, and within three minutes of dialing, she had set up a meeting with Patrick Lawson at a Starbucks a few blocks away from campus. When she walked in, her eyes scanning the café for someone who would’ve posted the ad, she had instantly known who he was. The burly man by the window with a long scar across his weathered face and the smell of cigarette smoke wafting from him stuck out from the crowd of students studying, and he had seemed to be the only patron who would hire unlicensed medical personnel.

“Hi.” Y/N had walked over slowly. “Are you Patrick Lawson?”

“That depends.” He looked her up and down, a small smirk at the corner of his mouth. “Who’s asking?”

“My name is Y/N Y/L/N. We spoke on the phone?” She took the advertisement out of her bag and handed it to him.

“Right.” Patrick nodded, motioning to the chair across from him. “Sit down.”

“Alright.” Y/N had taken a seat slowly, her eyes on the door behind him. She hadn’t quite decided not to run. “So…you didn’t say what kind of job—”

“What are your medical credentials?” Patrick cut across her, sipping his coffee.

Y/N remembered thinking that that was rude, and completely unprofessional for an interview. Of course, now that she actually knew Patrick, the action was completely in character.

“I’m a third-year nursing student at NYU Meyer.” She had answered, reaching into her bag to pull out her student ID. “And I’m trained in first aid.”

“You ever stitched somebody up before?”

Y/N frowned at the bluntness of the question. “Um, yes, but—”

“What about set broken bones? Noses?”

With an incredulous look on her face, Y/N had glanced around the coffee shop. Could anyone else hear this? When the answer to that question appeared to be no, she had leaned forward, unable to keep the curiosity out of her voice.

“Mr. Lawson, what exactly is this a job interview for?”

What it was for, it had turned out, was an underground boxing ring in the heart of New York. Patrick explained between sips of black coffee that he owns the gym that everyone fought in, and the business is growing. The only downside (the use of the word “only” had made the corners of Y/N’s mouth twitch—there was only one downside to an illegal boxing ring?) is that with no regulations, men get injured. A lot. And because the boxing is illegal, they can’t exactly keep going to the hospital…which was where Y/N comes in.

After seeing her student ID, her first-aid certifications, and testing her on the spot by having her look at a bandaged cut on his leg to see if it was infected (“It is.” Y/N had told him immediately), Patrick had hired Y/N on the spot. For three hundred dollars a night, she would be watching illegal boxing matches with a first-aid kit by her side. If anyone got injured too badly, they would bring them back to the locker rooms, where she would be waiting. There, she would bandage cuts, check for concussions, set broken bones, stitch people up with no anesthetic…

Y/N shudders as she looks at the gym door again, finally pulling herself from her thoughts. It’s definitely not an ideal situation—or even a moderately ideal situation— and she’s not looking forward to it in the least. But being a student in New York isn’t exactly cheap, and the money is good, even if it’s dirty. Really dirty. Probably bloody, from the fighters that she would be expected to stitch up from awful injuries—

“Don’t.” Y/N mutters to herself, taking a deep breath. “Everything is going to be okay. It’s fine. This is fine.”

“Hey, lady.” A man approaches her from behind, giving her a strange look—which is to be expected, Y/N thinks, seeing as how she’s talking to herself in the doorway of an underground gym. “Are you going to stare at the door all night, or are you going to open it?”

“Sorry.” She says sheepishly, stepping out of his way and allowing him to step around her down the stairs.

Knowing that there’s nowhere else to go but inside—and knowing that she can’t block the doorway forever—Y/N quickly makes her own way down the stairs and through the heavy doors.

Y/N isn’t exactly sure what she had expected an underground boxing gym to look like, but the room in front of her eyes pretty much meets her expectations. The gym is dark, with one bright light in the center hanging over the beaten-up ring. There are a few dark-coloured mats scattered around the ring, along with people getting ready to watch that night’s match. Everyone she sees, with their black clothing and leather boots and tough demeanors, looks like they belong at an illegal gym, whereas Y/N…she glances down at herself for a moment. Next time, she thinks, she’ll remember not to wear lavender.

Still, no matter how out of place she feels, she’s here now, and if university and nursing school had taught her anything, it was to act like she belonged until she did. With that in mind, Y/N holds her head up high, ignoring the stares of the gym patrons as she makes her way to the back hallway. Although she’s not exactly sure where Patrick’s office lies within the dark and claustrophobic gym, she feels that the more cigarette smoke she can smell in the air, the closer she’s getting.

Despite passing many identical doors with the same chipped and peeling paint, Y/N continues until she reaches the door at the end of the hallway. The black paint is scuffed, but in far better condition than any of the other doors around her, and Y/N can smell the cigarette smoke wafting out from the cracks beneath it.

“Patrick?” She knocks on the door softly, just in case she’s guessed wrong.

A rough but recognizable voice answers from the other side. “Yeah. Come in.”

With permission, Y/N opens the door, coughing a bit when a wall of cigarette smoke hits her. “Hi…?”

“Hey, Doc.” Patrick has a cigarette tucked between his lips as he speaks, and he hardly glances up at her from the papers in his hands. “How you doing?”

“I’m—I’m good.” Y/N says, her voice tinged with nerves. “I just wanted to check in before the match.”

“Good. Here.” Patrick stands up and walks to a cupboard in his office, pulling out a weathered leather case from within. “This has everything you should need in it.”

He hands the case to Y/N, and she opens it slowly, not entirely sure what Patrick is handing to her. Inside, she finds, is an assortment of medical supplies, all placed haphazardly inside the makeshift medical kit. Y/N roots around a bit with one hand, quickly taking stock of the contents. Bandages, antiseptics, not-yet-frozen cold compresses, painkillers, a stitch kit… “I’ll need all of this?” She asks, looking up at Patrick with a surprised look in her eyes.

“Look around you, Doc. This isn’t a daycare.” Patrick snorts, puffing on his cigarette. “We bare knuckle box. We don’t have personal physicians checking up on us, rules, regulations…this is about making money. And sometimes…it gets messy.”

“But if you needed a medical professional, then why didn’t you get someone who’s finished school?” Y/N asks as she shuts the case and clasps it closed. “They’d be a lot more experienced than a student.”

“Because medical professionals have a duty to report abuse to the cops.” Patrick shrugs as if the reasons are of little consequence to him. Which, Y/N thinks, they are. “You don’t. And students need the money more.”

Y/N purses her lips as she clutches the handle of the case tightly in her hand. “What happened to your last student?”

Patrick sighs with a flip of his hand, waving off the question. “He pissed off the wrong guy and went from being the doctor to being the patient. That’s why I hired a pretty lady this time.”

Y/N scoffs, the ease she had been beginning to feel around Patrick fading within a moment as she remembers where she is. She meets Patrick’s gaze with a harsh look. “Don’t patronize me, Patrick, or I’ll walk out that door right now.”

Patrick raises his hands defensively, an indifferent look on his face, and Y/N understands that it’s not an apology.

“Look, Doc, the last guy had a mouth on him. By all accounts, he deserved it.” Patrick walks back around to his desk, tapping his cigarette ash off into the glass ashtray that sits there, already half full. When he looks back up at Y/N, his gaze is softer than before, and Y/N can’t quite decipher the flicker she sees in his eyes. “I don’t mean to be patronizing. But if any guy in here says shit to you…lemme know. Got it?”

Y/N has a feeling that that’s as close to an apology as she’ll get from Patrick, so she nods tersely. “Got it.” Her attention turns back to the case in her hands. “So I just…wait by the ring?”

Patrick nods, tucking his cigarette back in his mouth as he sits back down at his desk, his thoughts moving back to the paperwork in front of him. “You got it. Watch the match. Have some fun, have a drink…if anything goes too wrong, I’ll pull you up to the ring. If everything is fine, you’ll come back to the locker room after the match to make sure my guys don’t have a concussion.”

“Sounds…good.” Y/N shifts the case around in her hands as she speaks, unsure of what else there is to say. “I’ll go to the audience, then.”

Patrick nods, but offers no other advice as she leaves. Not that Y/N expected it.

By the time Y/N makes it to her designated spot at the edge of the crowd, the gym is already filling with people who are buzzing about the fight. The smell of alcohol, cigarette smoke, and sweat is thick in the air, and after her third time of getting shoved by a man she doesn’t know, Y/N is wondering if sewing some medical patches onto her jean jacket will stop her from getting shoved at the next match. Of course, she’s not quite certain she’ll be attending the next match, but she makes the plans to do it nonetheless.

The area around the ring continues to pack itself full with people, and as Y/N stares at the spectators around her, she wonders just how much Patrick is making off this one fight. She’s not sure how much people have to pay to get in, but with at least two hundred people here, not including the money the spectators have put down on bets…Y/N’s certain Patrick will be coming away with a tidy sum.

As the crowd starts to scream, her attention shifts from the people around her to the one bare aisle leading to the ring, where the first fighter has begun walking out. He has a heavy build with broad shoulders, and Y/N knows he has to be over six feet. Top heavy, she thinks, as he climbs onto the edge of the ring and ducks his shaved head under the ropes. He raises his arms as the crowd cheers, apparently loving the attention, and spits to the side before his coach slides his mouth guard in for him.

Y/N wrinkles her nose as she watches the fighter display his muscles to the crowd, and at how much the crowd seems to love it.

There’s a crackle of static over the speakers as the announcer begins to speak. “As last year’s reigning champion, Adam Bowers is aiming to maintain his title this season.” The crowd cheers again as the fighter, Bowers, rolls out his shoulders.

“Those who watched him box last season know that getting this giant off his feet is a gargantuan task. Will his opponent be able to do it?”

The crowd jeers as the announcer mentions the opponent, and Y/N gets the feeling that they don’t think the other guy has a chance. When the other fighter begins to walk towards the ring, Y/N can’t help but agree.

This fighter’s build is much slimmer, despite the apparent muscle mass on his arms and legs. He’s more evenly built than Bowers, and while Y/N knows that will be helpful, she can’t make herself feel anything other than worry as she watches the fighter climb under the rings. He reaches up and fixes the neat bun keeping his brown hair away from his face, and although the crowd roars, Y/N can make out a look of focus and determination in his green eyes.

“Facing our champion is rookie Harry Styles. Despite beginning training just three months ago…”

Three months? Y/N bites her lip in concern, watching as Styles’ coach pulls him down to look him in the eye, giving him his mouth guard as he does. Y/N leans over to a man next to her, unable to stop herself from asking a question that’s at the forefront of her mind. “Don’t they use weight classes to match fighters?” She half yells the question over the cheers. “Bowers seems so much bigger than him!”

“This is illegal fighting, sweetheart.” The man laughs at her question as he takes a sip of his beer. The hair on the back of Y/N’s neck bristles at the pet name, and she once again reminds herself to keep her guard up as the man continues to speak.

“They don’t care about weight classes.” He says easily, nodding towards the ring. “They care about putting on a good show, so they can make money.”

Y/N turns her attention back to the ring, making sure to keep her distance from the other spectators. Styles is surveying the crowd now, and for just a moment, he locks eyes with her.

As his gaze meets hers, Y/N gets the impression that he’s sizing her up just as much as she’s sized him up. His eyes flick down her body and back up, but not in the way most men in the gym have been doing it. When the boxer’s eyes flick back to hers, Y/N doesn’t see a look of lust or desire reflected in his irises. Instead, she sees concern.

He’s about to fight a behemoth, she thinks, and he’s concerned because I’m in the crowd of the fight? The idea would make Y/N laugh, if she didn’t have a sneaking suspicion that she’d be setting his bones before the end of the night.

Styles’ finally looks away from her after a moment, centering himself again to be ready to fight. Y/N watches as he makes his way to the center of the ring, his gaze having to turn up to meet the eyes of Bowers. The bell rings, signalling the beginning of the match, and the loud ring makes Y/N flinch as she watches the two boxers begin to fight.

She had been right when she initially sized them up. Bowers is the first to throw a punch, all of his weight behind it, but Styles’ smaller stature allows him to duck easily, weaving out of the way from the first few strikes. As he ducks from a punch, Styles manages to land the first hit of the match, his fist connecting directly with Bowers’ jaw.

Y/N’s face lights up with surprise as the crowd cheers. However, the surprise quickly turns to worry as Bowers uses his anger to move faster, finally landing a blow on Styles. Not letting one hit deter him, the smaller boxer is quick to recuperate and keep himself in the moment. Already, Y/N can tell that he plays the long game, while Bowers seems to favour a more offensive stance.

As the match continues, Y/N’s concern turns to curiosity as she examines the fighting style of both boxers. Bowers is always the quickest to throw out punches, but Styles manages to dodge more punches than he receives, only standing still long enough to land his own hits on Bowers. The audience, while shocked by the proficiency of the rookie at first, begins to cheer loudly as their champion fights for a victory. The cheering only gets louder when blood splatters from Bowers’ nose to the floor of the ring.

Y/N winces, searching the crowd for Patrick’s familiar face. She finds him in the back, watching with his arms crossed, and raises an eyebrow in question as she catches his eye. He gives a quick shake of his head. This isn’t anything to worry about, the action says. Worse is coming.

The worse comes quickly, Y/N finds, as the groan of the crowd draws her attention back to the ring. Styles is doubled over now, presumably from a punch to the gut. Y/N watches in horrified silence as Bowers lands another punch on Styles’ jaw, knocking the smaller boxer onto his knees. However, the groan of the crowd quickly turns to a cheer as Styles pushes himself to stand once again, a grunt escaping his lips as he straights. Spitting the blood out of his mouth, he attacks Bowers again with a new energy, one wilder and more uncalculated than before.

The crowd roars louder as Styles pummels his opponent, and Y/N watches in shock as he knocks Bowers back in a daze. Styles hits him once, then again, and again, until Bowers goes down with a dull thud that echoes through the gym. He stays there, lying limp, as the referee begins to count, and doesn’t rise when Styles is declared the winner.

“Harry Styles has managed to begin his journey with a win!” The announcer yells, barely audible above the cheering crowd. Styles wipes his bleeding mouth with a shaky hand, a grin just beginning to tug at the corner of his mouth as the referee raises his hand in the air in victory.

The crowd continues to yell and cheer as people turn to those next to them, rehashing the match’s highlights. Y/N sees money change hands a few times, and while she wants to get out of the crowd that’s becoming rowdier by the minute, she’s not exactly sure where to go.

A hand on her elbow brings her from her thoughts, and Y/N whips around, cuss words hanging off the ends of her lips, ready to throw at whoever grabbed her. When she sees Patrick’s face, however, the words fade away, and she grabs the case that she’s all but forgotten is beside her as he begins to guide her back to the locker rooms.

“Time to get to work, Doc.” Patrick calls over the crowd, glancing over his shoulder at her to make sure she’s following.

Y/N nods silently, taking deep breaths to center herself for the task at hand. She can’t let herself be uncomfortable now; it’s time for her to work.

Patrick leads her through the crowd and down the hallway, taking a left turn towards the locker rooms. The echoes of someone groaning get louder and louder the closer they get, and as they walk inside the locker room, Y/N is certain she’ll find Styles sitting in front of her. Instead, her eyes settle on Bowers with a hand to his nose and his head tilted back.

“You need to lean forward.” Y/N says immediately, instinct taking over as she sits down next to Bowers while opening her case.

Bowers grunts, his eyes flicking to Y/N as he does. “I’m bleeding, sweetheart—”

“And leaning back is causing the blood to run down your throat. It’s harmful to your health, sweetheart.” Y/N counters in an icy tone, shooting him a glare before slipping on plastic gloves.

Patrick crosses his arms as he watches the exchange, a smirk making its way onto his face. “I’d watch my mouth if I were you, Bowers. Don’t piss off the person about to set your nose.”

Y/N glances at Patrick for a moment before turning back to Bowers. Although she’s still weary of him, Patrick seems to be the only one looking out for her in the gym, and she makes a note to bring it up with him after she finishes her work.

Upon examination, Y/N finds that Styles has broken Bowers’ nose, and gives him some pain medication and a cold compress before making a splint, setting it as best as she can in a gym locker room.

“There.” Y/N sits back and pulls off her bloody gloves. “That should be okay. Keep taking ibuprofen to help with the pain and swelling, and if it doesn’t seem to heal, try going to a real doctor. Alright?”

Bowers nods jerkily. Although she can see the doubt in his eyes, he doesn’t contradict her again. “Yeah. Alright.”

“What do you say to the Doc, Bowers?” Patrick prompts him, an expectant look on his face.

The boxer glares at her, but still manages to mutter a quick “thanks.”

Although it doesn’t seem sincere, Y/N doesn’t challenge it. “You’re welcome.” She replies curtly, closing her case before standing up again and turning to Patrick. “Where’s Styles?”

After washing her hands, Patrick leads Y/N down a corridor to another section of the locker room. Styles is sitting on the bench between the lockers, unwrapping the tape from his hands as his coach leans against the lockers while speaking to him. From the towel around his neck, wet curls hanging around his face, and damp chest, Y/N gathers that he showered after his victory. While her observations begin as professional, Y/N’s mind soon drifts to notice how the water droplets cling to his tattooed chest and arms, and how his fingers flex as he unwraps his tape. The clearing of his throat pulls her from her thoughts, and her eyes snap back up to his face as he speaks.

“Patrick.” The boxer’s voice is accented and low, and she sees recognition from earlier flicker across his phase. “Who’s this?”

“This is Doc Y/N.” Patrick lights a cigarette as he speaks, despite the disapproving look that Y/N gives him. “She’s the one who’s going to be saving your injured ass.”

“You can just call me Y/N.” Y/N rolls her eyes slightly as she refutes the nickname that, to her displeasure, Patrick’s already grown fond of before turning her attention back to Styles. “I’m just going to make sure you’re alright, Mr. Styles.”

When she addresses him, his coach laughs lightly, crossing his arms against his chest. Y/N looks at him with a raised eyebrow, her mouth open to ask about the laughter, when a voice cuts her off.

“No one’s ever called me Mr. Styles. Jeff seems to think it’s humorous.” A light chuckle escapes from the boxer, although his is more controlled than that of his coach. “You can call me Harry. Just Harry.”

Y/N nods as she sits next to him on the bench, opening up her medical kit and slipping on gloves. She has to focus at the task at hand. “Alright. How are you feeling?”

“’M fine.” Harry replies easily, running a hand through his wet curls. “Healthy as a horse.”

A snort leaves Jeff’s mouth at that comment. “A horse that got the shit beat out of him.” He turns his attention to Y/N with his next sentence. “He got hit pretty hard in the—”

“The ribs, yeah.” Y/N finishes the sentence for him, her eyes already examining the bruises developing on Harry’s abdomen with a keen eye. “I saw. Thought you were a goner.”

Harry shrugs a bit in response, seemingly unconcerned with the punches he sustained during the match. “I’ve had worse.”

“May I?” Y/N asks, extending a gloved hand. At Harry’s nod, she begins to press around his abdomen. “Can’t imagine much worse. You must’ve really pissed someone off, then.”

A laugh rumbles out from Harry’s chest at the comment, but a wince quickly replaces the expression of mirth on his face as his muscles contract. Although he quickly covers it, Y/N doesn’t miss it.

“Does that hurt?” She asks, pressing on his muscles again while gauging his reactions. “Where? Here?”

Harry clears his throat quietly, carefully controlling his expression as Jeff steps closer. “Uh, yeah. A bit. Just a bit sore.”

“Patrick,” Y/N glances over her shoulder at him before rummaging in her kit for the stethoscope she saw earlier. “Could you grab me a cold compress?”

Patrick leaves the locker room as Y/N presses the stethoscope to Harry’s chest and back, listening to his heartbeat and breathing. “Do you have any abdominal pain? Any shortness in breath, or dizziness?”

Harry shakes his head slightly. “No. None at all. I’m just sore.”

Y/N pulls the stethoscope from her ears and touches his jaw lightly, frowning at the purple bruise that’s blossomed under his pink skin. “You got hit pretty hard here.”

Harry’s jaw flexes under her touch as he chuckles. “I know. I was there.”

“Don’t be a smart ass, Harry.” Jeff chastises him from his position against the lockers.

“I’m not! I’m just saying—”

“She’s trying to help you—”

Y/N tunes out the argument between coach and boxer as she sets the stethoscope back down in the kit, making a note to bring her own next week. In fact, she can think of a few things that would be useful to add to the makeshift medical bag Patrick gave her—a manual blood pressure cuff, better suturing supplies, maybe some more bandages—

“Y/N?”

“Hm?” Jeff’s voice pulls Y/N from her thoughts just as Patrick enters the locker room again, the cold compress in hand. She accepts it from him before turning her attention back to the coach.

“Sorry, what was that?” She asks again, closing the medical kit.

“I asked if you thought Harry was being a smart ass.” Jeff gives a pointed look to his boxer. “And if he should apologize.”

Y/N shrugs as she hands the cold compress to Harry. “It’s fine. It’s definitely not the worst thing anyone’s ever said to me.” She turns her attention back to Harry, who’s frowning at her again, like he did when they first locked eyes in the ring. That look is back, too, she notices. The concern. Like the comment she made worries him.

Y/N clears her throat, pushing the thought out of her head. “You have some bruising and swelling, but nothing is broken. No internal bleeding, either. At least, nothing detectable.” She says with a sigh, pulling off her gloves. “I think you’re good to go, but if you start experiencing nausea, dizziness, or bleeding from any orifices, then you need to go to the doctor. A real one.”

Harry presses the compress against his swollen jaw, wincing as the cold makes contact with his flushed skin. “Are you not a real doctor?”

A laugh bubbles out from Y/N’s lips as she shakes her head. “I’d say I’m a half doctor at best.”

“The best half doctor this gym can buy.” Patrick chimes in, pausing after a moment. “Which, honestly, isn’t saying much, but…”

“Right.” Y/N tosses her gloves in the garbage can sitting against a locker. “So, again, if you start feeling strange, see a real doctor. One that’s actually licensed.”

Harry nods, standing up and extending a hand. “Thanks, Doc. I appreciate it.”

It takes Y/N a moment to realize he wants to shake her hand. Once the realization hits her, she extends her hand cautiously, locking it with his in an awkward fashion. She prays it goes unnoticed by Harry, but judging from the laughter in his eyes, it hasn’t. Her own cheeks flush as she pulls her hand away.

“Of course. I’ll see you at your next match.” She says quickly, and escapes the locker room behind Patrick before she can say anything else.

Patrick brings Y/N back to his office, shutting the door behind them before going behind his desk and removing a cheap picture of a city off his wall, exposing the door of a safe. He opens it quickly and counts out three hundred dollars in cash before slipping it into an envelope for Y/N. “Here, Doc. You did good tonight.”

Y/N had almost forgotten that she’s doing this for cash. “Thanks.” She takes the money from him, tucking it inside her jacket. “I’m just glad I didn’t need to stitch anyone up.”

Patrick laughs as he lights a fresh cigarette, sitting down at his desk chair as he puffs on it. “This time.”

“Yeah. This time.” Y/N eyes the cigarette with distaste. “Smoking kills, you know.”

Patrick glances at her with an incredulous look on his face, unfazed. “I run an illegal boxing ring. Do you think I care?” He exhales smoke slowly. “I got more to worry about killing me than smoking.”

Y/N shifts her weight from one foot to another as a band of anxiety twists its way through her stomach. “Do I have to worry about that, too?”

“Nah.” Patrick waves his hand indifferently, clearly unconcerned. “No one cares about a nursing student with a few bandages and some ice packs.”

“Right.” Y/N says slowly. Her previous hesitancy about her security at the gym returns, and although she tries to hide it, she knows it’s written all over her face.

Patrick’s keen eyes notice right away. “That’s a good thing, Y/N.” For the first time that night, he uses her name to address her. “Trust me, you want to go unnoticed here.”

“Do I?” Y/N pauses in front of the door, her hand resting on the handle.

“Yeah. You do.” Patrick taps the ash off his cigarette as he gives her a long look. “I know you noticed how…different you are from our regular visitors.”

“You mean how I’m not a gigantic man dressed in all leather who enjoys making sexist comments towards women?” Y/N’s voice drips with sarcasm as she rolls her eyes. “Believe me. I noticed.”

“You want to go unnoticed here.” Patrick says again, firmer this time. “Dress in darker clothes. Blend in more. No good men spend their time here. Not one. Understood?”

The serious tone in Patrick’s voice causes a chill to run down Y/N’s back, and her hand tightens on the handle of the door. She doesn’t doubt what he’s saying; she already had her suspicions that she’d need to do more to blend into the crowd next week. But being directly warned about the danger she’s putting herself in gives her pause.

“You seem like a good kid, and I’ll do my best to make sure no one fucks with you. But you have to be watching your own back, too.” Patrick takes a long puff of his cigarette. “I got enough shit on my plate without keeping tabs on you.”

“Got it.” Y/N nods sharply, her fingernails digging into her palm as she steadies herself. “Blend in. Watch my own back. Go unnoticed. Understood.”

…

“So how’s the new job?”

Y/N’s eyes snap up at her friend’s question as her grip on her beer bottle tightens just the slightest bit. The bar around them is loud, filled with the sound of obnoxious, half-drunk laughter and bad music, and Y/N hopes that the ambient noise is enough cover for her to pretend that she didn’t hear the question.

“What, Sadie?” She leans closer as her mind searches for a plausible answer. “What did you say?”

Sadie leans across the table, perfectly unaware of how her question has increased her friend’s heart rate. “I asked you how your new job is.”

“Oh.” Y/N brings the lip of her bottle to her mouth, taking a sip to prolong her pause. “It’s good, yeah. Pretty good.”

“Where is it again?” Sadie asks, settling back down in her seat comfortable. “Some gym?”

“Yeah, I just—I’m doing some first-aid lessons there. For their trainers.” Y/N says quickly, attempting to keep her voice even. Lying has never been her strong suit, especially to her friends. “You know, basic stuff, but it pays well.”

“That’s good!” Sadie replies in an encouraging voice. “That’ll be good for you.”

“Yeah, it’s good so far.” Y/N nods, her fingers tapping anxiously against her beer bottle. “So…” Her mind searches for another topic of discussion. “Tell me more about that guy you’ve been seeing. Peter?”

As Sadie begins to rehash the events of her last date with a man from Tinder, Y/N’s mind begins to wander to the real answer to her friend’s question. How was her new job going?

It’s certainly…going, she thinks, nodding absentmindedly at something Sadie says. It didn’t ever seem to stop going. Every Saturday brings a new crisis for her to handle. Within her first month of working at Patrick’s gym, she’s reset multiple noses, splinted fingers, bandaged knuckles, stitched lips and foreheads, and—Y/N suppresses a shudder—popped a dislocated shoulder back into a boxer’s shoulder socket.

When Patrick told her that the job would be messy, Y/N had assumed that he was overexaggerating, but she’s found herself repairing every single boxer at the gym in some way, shape, or form over the last month.

Every boxer except Harry, that is.

Y/N’s not sure if there’s some sort of guardian angel looking out for him, or if he’s really just that lucky, but so far, the worst injury she’s had to help him with is a bloody nose. Despite being the busiest boxer at the gym, with fights every week, Harry’s managed to evade any broken or dislocated bones. He hasn’t even so much as pulled a muscle.

Although Y/N’s happy that she has one less patient to deal with every week, his winning streak is starting to make her nervous. Whenever Harry steps into the ring, he’s cool, calm, and collected, but Y/N’s seen too much in life to ignore the rule that what goes up must come down. She has a bad feeling that the higher Harry’s luck pushes him, the harder he’ll fall. And when he does, it’ll be her job to put him together again.

“…And I just don’t know what it means.” Sadie pushes her phone in front of Y/N, pulling her from her thoughts. “I mean, who sends the wheat emoji? Is he a farmer? How do I respond to that?”

“Tell him he can plow your crops.” Y/N replies easily, shifting her attention back to her friend. “But only if he wears overalls.”

Sadie rolls her eyes as she pulls her phone back. “Haha. Maybe it’s a weird vegan thing. Do vegans have codes?”

“How the fuck would I know?” Y/N snorts before taking a swig from her beer bottle. “And I thought he was keto?”

“He was, until two weeks ago.”

“Well, even if vegans do have codes, I doubt two weeks is long enough to learn them.” Y/N stands from her seat. “I’m going to grab another beer; do you want a refill?”

Sadie shakes her head, her attention already turned back to her text messages with Peter.

Y/N pushes her way through the crowd until she reaches the bar, carefully working her way in between the bodies of intoxicated New Yorkers. She waits patiently next to a group of a few men until the bartender acknowledges her while her mind drifts to the assignment she has due next week that, really, she should be at home working on.

The bartender stops in front of her, wiping his hands on the towel over his shoulder. “What can I get you?”

“I’ll have another Budweiser.” Y/N says, reaching for her back pocket for her phone. “It’ll be on debit—”

“Actually—” The body next to her turns at the sound of her voice. “You can put it on my tab. And add another scotch and soda to the order, as well.”

The bartender nods, but Y/N huffs under her breath, pushing her hair out of her face as she prepares the speech that she always hopes she won’t have to use. “That’s very kind of you, but—Harry?”

The green eyed boxer peers down at her, a charming grin playing on his red lips. His long hair is down and flowing, curling around his defined shoulders and collarbones that peak out of his loose, half unbuttoned shirt. One arm hangs loosely at his side as the other clutches an empty glass, rings clicking as he taps his fingers against it. His tongue swipes his lips once before he speaks, making them impossibly redder.

“’M surprised to see you here.” Harry’s voice is as low as it ever is, even in the noise of the club. “I didn’t think dive bars would be your scene.”

Y/N scoffs as she straightens her back, trying to make herself a better match for Harry’s height. “As opposed to what, sleazy underground gyms?”

“Hm. That’s true.” An amused look paints its way onto Harry’s features as he sets his empty glass down on the bar. “Are you here alone? Or did a date bring you here?”

“A friend, actually.” Y/N motions over her shoulder to Sadie, who’s still wrapped up in her messages with Peter. “I’ve never been here before, but she really likes it.”

“Yeah?” Harry’s grin slowly grows as he leans against the edge of the bar. “How are you liking it so far?”

Y/N lifts her shoulders slightly in a small shrug. “It’s alright. Not much different than any other bar in New York. A beer is a beer anywhere, right?”

“That’s your mistake, though.” Harry sighs a bit as his eyes train on something over Y/N’s shoulder. He reaches past her, his warm, tanned arm brushing against the bare skin of her shoulder. It brushes against her again when he moves his arm back, this time with an open beer bottle and scotch and soda in hand, and Y/N’s not sure what’s worse: how good Harry’s skin feels against hers, or the fact that his hands are so large that he can easily carry two drinks in them without spilling a drop.

“My mistake?” Y/N’s successful in keeping her voice steady—just barely—as she takes the bottle from him. “What mistake?”

“Ordering a bottle of beer wherever you go.” Harry’s ringed hand wraps around the cold glass of scotch. “Let me pick the next drink I buy you, yeah? Then you’ll be able to see if you really like this bar or not.”

“Um—” It takes Y/N a moment to process what he says, and when it finally hits her, she feels heat rush to her cheeks faster than it ever has before. Her mouth opens and closes for a moment, and it takes the charming smile on Harry’s face changing to a grin of satisfaction at her reaction for her to snap out of her stupor.

“I don’t need you to buy me drinks.” Y/N says firmly, setting her beer bottle down on the counter. “I can buy my own. Thank you, though.”

“Wait—” Harry’s arm touches her wrist lightly as she turns around, pulling her attention back to him. His satisfied grin has slipped into a look of apology. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that in—that sounded worse than I meant it to. I know you can buy your own drinks, I just—I meant it as a thank you.”

Y/N raises an eyebrow as she looks him up and down. The difference in his demeanor compared to a moment ago is noticeable—his shoulders have curled in slightly, making his body appear smaller, and his brows are knit together in a look of worry. His teeth are tugging on his lower lip as he waits for her response, and it’s not until noticing his lips that Y/N realizes she hasn’t responded.

“A thank you for what?” Y/N asks, surprise evident in her voice. Although Harry’s let go of her wrist, she still feels a stinging in the skin there, and wraps her own hand around the area he touched.

Harry’s free hand grazes his abdomen, just over his ribs, where Y/N knows there’s a bruise from a fight the previous week. “For cleaning me up all the time.”

Y/N waves off his comment with a flip of her hand. “You don’t need to thank me for that. It’s my job. Literally.”

“I know, but—” A man pushes his way to the bar, breaking into the space between Y/N and Harry. Harry grabs the beer bottle off the bar counter before the man can spill it, a darkening look in his eyes as he steps around the (clearly intoxicated) man to stand before Y/N again. “I can’t imagine it’s easy. I’ve seen how the men there treat you.”

Y/N straightens her spine even more, her mouth pressing into a tight line. The last thing she needs is Harry’s pity. “I made the choice to take the job. I knew what the environment would be like. I don’t need you feeling like you have to be the good guy and buy me drinks to make up for the assholes at the gym.”

“No, that’s not—” Harry shakes his head quickly. “That’s not what I meant, Y/N—” She hates the flutter she feels in her core when she hears her name in his accent. “I’m just concerned—”

“I didn’t ask for you to be concerned!” Y/N replies hotly, her arms crossing tightly over her body. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Sadie begin to notice the interaction between herself and Harry, and she knows she’s going to be interrogated the moment she gets back to the table.

“I know that!” Harry defends himself, his face growing more agitated as their conversation continues. “I can’t help it—”

“Why? Because I’m a girl surrounded by big tough guys? Because I obviously need protecting? Because I can’t protect myself?” Although she’s aware that her frustration is only partly aimed at Harry, and is mostly the product of the emotions she’s kept locked inside her over the last month, Y/N can’t make herself stop.

“No.” Harry’s eyes drop down from her sharp gaze. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound like that.”

Y/N feels a twinge of guilt when she sees the brightness fade from Harry’s eyes, but she doesn’t shift her position. “I appreciate the thanks, and the drink. But I don’t need your pity, your concern, or your protection.”

“Alright.” Harry nods once as his eyes snap up to meet hers again. He has the same calm and collected look that Y/N usually sees reflected in his jade irises before a match. “I understand.”

“Good.” Y/N’s fingers twist around each other as she considers what else to say. Nothing else really seems worth saying, so instead she focuses on a goodbye. “I’ll see you next Saturday, then.”

“Yeah.” Harry nods again, and Y/N moves to step away, but Harry’s hand catches her one more time. Y/N’s eyes find his face in confusion, and her whole body jumps as she feels the cool glass of the beer bottle press into her palm.

“Take that with you.” Harry’s voice is rough, unreadable. “It’s not safe to leave your drinks unattended.”

…

Now that she’s spent the last five Saturdays working at Patrick’s gym, Y/N’s fallen into a comfortable routine—or at least, as comfortable as she can be in an environment filled exclusively by men with anger issues and no morals. Every Saturday morning, she gets up around nine A.M. and lounges around for a while, just reading her phone in bed. Once she actually makes it out of bed, she showers, taking the time she doesn’t normally have on university mornings to wash her hair, shave anything that she thinks needs shaving, and just enjoy the hot water on her skin. After her shower, Y/N gets dressed in whatever the day’s activity calls for. Sometimes she stays in all day, just studying and catching up on readings, while other times she has errands to run, or friends to meet for brunch at a hole-in-the-wall restaurant that charges seventeen dollars for avocado toast. Whatever the day brings, however, her evening routine is always the same.

Y/N sets her dinner plate in the kitchen sink before grabbing her jean jacket from the back of her kitchen chair. She slips it over her black t-shirt, which is tucked into her dark jeans, before grabbing her heavy black boots from the closet. After her first week, Y/N realized the key to being comfortable at her new job was dark clothing and protective footwear, as drunk men placing bets on illegal fights seemed to have a habit of stepping on her toes—literally. Y/N found that it was best to take protective measures against the shoving of the crowds, as stitching paramedic patches onto the sleeves of her jean jacket hadn’t done any good.

With one final check to make sure her good stethoscope and manual blood pressure pump is in her bag, Y/N sets out for the gym, arriving at 9 P.M. on the dot. Although the match doesn’t start until 10, she likes to get there early and check in with Patrick. They’ve begun to develop a rapport over the last few weeks, and Y/N finds herself looking forward to her talks with the surly gym owner.

Y/N doesn’t blink when she enters the dark gym now, and instead keeps her gaze aimed straight ahead as she makes her way to Patrick’s office, knocking on the door thrice in quick succession.

“Yeah?” His voice calls out roughly from behind the door. Y/N opens and shuts it behind her, managing to take one last gasp of clean air before being confronted with the scent of stale cigarette smoke.

“Evening, Doc.” Patrick leans back in his desk chair, the usual cigarette between his lips. “How are things looking out there?”

“The gym is already half full, and the fight isn’t for another hour.” Y/N takes a seat across from the desk as Patrick reaches under it, opening the minifridge he has stashed away and pulling out a beer for each of them. Y/N accepts the bottle, opening it on the edge of his desk before continuing. “You’re getting famous.”

“I’m not getting famous; Styles is.” Patrick stubs out his cigarette before opening his own bottle. “He’s going on five weeks undefeated in his first season. That’s never been done before.”

Y/N scratches at the label of her beer with her fingernail while her teeth tug on her bottom lip. “What’s his story, anyways?” She asks after a moment, unable to hold back her curiosity any longer. “How did he end up here?”

Patrick takes a swig of beer, leaning back in his chair with a sigh. “I don’t know how he ended up here, but I assume it’s for the same reason anyone ever does, including you. The money.” Patrick shrugs a bit. “As for his story at the gym…he knocked on my office door seven months ago, saying he wanted to get into boxing. He had a bit of muscle, yeah, but nothing like he has now. He just sounded like some posh boarding school kid, so I sent him packing. But he was adamant. Wouldn’t give up. Kept coming back, over and over.” Patrick snorts, shaking his head at the memory. “Finally, I told him to start training and bulking up just to get him off my back. And then he came back the next day with his coach, Jeff, and spent hours working every drill imaginable. I have to admit, it impressed me. So I gave him a trial match, the first night you worked. You remember how that went, don’t you?”

Y/N thinks back to the blood spurting from Bowers’ nose after Harry broke it. “Yeah. I do.”

“He’s a strange guy. Pretty different from any other boxer here. But he’s bringing in cash, and lots of it, so I don’t give a shit.” Patrick takes another sip of beer, his eyes focusing on Y/N’s untouched bottle. “You better drink that, Doc. I don’t like wasting beer.”

Y/N lifts the bottle to her mouth automatically, but doesn’t register the taste of the liquid as it passes her lips. “I’m pretty sure rule number one of nursing is not drinking before a shift.”

“That’s some bullshit hospital rule, not mine.” Patrick gives an unconcerned wave of his hand. “Besides, I think the alcohol steadies your hands a bit. Liquid courage and all that.”

Y/N raises the bottle in her hand, tilting it towards Patrick with a wry grin. “To liquid courage.”

…

“You should consider telling Harry to reign it in, Patrick.” Y/N carefully slips off her bloodied gloves, tossing them in the locker room garbage. “That’s the third nose he’s broken in the last month!”

“Why would he need to reign it in?” Patrick raises an eyebrow, leaning against the lockers as Y/N washes her hands. “Do you know how much money he’s making me? The crowd goes crazy for blood!”

Y/N shakes off her wet hands, quickly drying them on a paper towel before taking her medical kit back from Patrick. The bag feels heavier in her hand than it did earlier. “At this rate, you’re going to be out of boxers before the month is over.”

“I can always get new fighters, Doc.” Patrick sniffs, rubbing his nose while leading Y/N to the other locker room. He still comes with her to check on the boxers, despite her knowing the drill by now. Deep down, Y/N appreciates it. “A new champion, on the other hand…those are rare.”

“Are they?” Y/N raises an eyebrow as Patrick steps back, letting her step into the room first. “I’m surprised this champion hasn’t worn himself out yet.”

Harry’s eyes snap up at the sound of her voice. He’s in his usual spot on the bench, his hands already unwrapped and his body already clean from his shower. Y/N wishes she could say that the sight of Harry’s damp and tattooed chest doesn’t have an affect on her anymore, but as she takes in the sight of him, her eyes are only half scanning his body for injuries. The other half of her, to her displeasure, is focused on how his muscles flex under the harsh artificial light as he takes a drink from his water bottle.

Patrick laughs once as Y/N takes a seat next to Harry, opening her medical kit. “Jeff, you’ll never guess what Doc Y/N thinks.” Patrick approaches the coach with a smirk on his face. “She wants Harry to reign it in. Says he’s too harsh in the ring.”

Jeff’s laughter matches Patrick’s, and Y/N feels a flush come over her face as she searches for clean gloves. She does her best to keep her gaze down and keep her focus on her work, but when she looks up, the look on Harry’s face makes her mind go completely blank.

Although Jeff and Patrick are snickering at her comment, Harry’s face is as unreadable as ever. There’s no amusement in his deep green eyes, nor is there a grin on his pink lips. Instead, there’s just a small crease between his brows as he meets her gaze, and Y/N can hardly fight back the urge to lean forward and press her lips to the worried spot.

She had been afraid that seeing Harry for the first time since their bar dispute would throw her, and it only takes one look in his eyes to know her anxiety has a solid foundation of reason underneath it.

“You think I’m too harsh?” The corners of his lips turn down the slightest bit as he speaks, and Y/N has to tell herself that she has no right to notice such a slight difference as quickly as she does.

With a slight shake of her head, Y/N begins to press around Harry’s side, where she had watched him sustain most of his opponent’s hits in the match. “I’m the one who cleans up your messes, remember?” She keeps her voice quiet, so she can hear any noises he makes as she presses on his muscles. “Is this sore?”

“Not more than usual.” Harry replies in the same quiet tone, his eyes glued to her movements. Y/N can feel his irises burning into her skin, and tries her best to ignore how the attention makes her feel. She almost forgets that they’re not alone in the locker room until Patrick speaks.

“Jeff and I have to discuss some things for next week’s match.” He says, speaking more to Y/N than Harry. “Are you alright here, Doc?”

Y/N understands the tone underneath his question. Patrick wants to know if she’s alright being left alone with a boxer who just proved himself capable, once again, of breaking bones. If it was anyone else, Y/N would shake her head and say she needs him to stay. With Harry, however, Y/N’s not afraid of what he can do to her. If anything, she’s concerned about what she may do to him.

“Yeah, it’s fine.” Y/N gives a slight nod to Patrick as she pulls out her stethoscope. “I won’t be much longer.”

“Alright.” Patrick gives one hardened look to Harry before following Jeff out of the locker rooms, leaving behind only the smell of his cigarette to mix with the locker room air.

Silence sits between the two of them for a moment, until Y/N fixes the stethoscope in her ears. “This may be a bit cold.” She warns, setting the device on his chest. She listens for a moment before moving it to his back. “Breathe in for me?”

Harry’s ribs expand underneath her fingers as he inhales deeply, exhaling just as slow.

“Again.” Y/N says, moving her stethoscope. Even through her gloves, she can feel the heat radiating off his skin, and briefly wonders if she should take his temperature before deciding that there’s no need. Harry is just…warm.

Y/N pulls her stethoscope out of her ears and sets it down in her bag, reaching instead for some wipes. “There’s a bit of blood under your nose still.” She pulls out a wipe and gently rubs it over the affected skin. “But your nose isn’t broken.”

Harry’s hands fiddle in his lap as she cleans him up, shifting and wincing every once in a while. “I don’t mean to break noses, you know.” He says after a moment. “I mean, I do, kind of, but it’s just—I’m fighting to win.”

“I know.” Y/N tosses the used wipe in the trash, her fingers still moving gently over his cheek. A black eye is beginning to develop under his left eye, so she reaches in her kit for her penlight. She flicks it on and holds up a finger with her other hand. “Follow my finger with your eyes, will you?”

Harry does as she asks, passing the simple test with ease. “We’re all fighting to win. I just happen to be better at it than the others.”

The corner of Y/N’s lip twitches as she turns off the penlight, swapping it in favour of a cold compress she can press to Harry’s bruised eye. “I suppose you are.” Harry winces as the compress makes contact with his eye, and Y/N sighs. “Sorry.”

“S’alright.” Harry says immediately, voice low.

Once again, the conversation dies out in favour of silence. As Y/N holds the compress to Harry’s eye, she wonders if he’s been thinking of their conversation in the bar as much as she has. She wonders if he’s been thinking of their conversation in the bar at all. As much as she dislikes how much Harry’s been occupying her thoughts, she dislikes the idea of her occupying none of his even more.

“So…” Y/N clears her throat quietly. “Patrick told me this is your first season, right?”

Harry jerks his head in a slight nod. “It is.”

When he offers no more information, Y/N asks another question. “What made you want to start?”

Harry’s uncovered eye meets hers, just for a moment, before looking down at his calloused hands. “I needed some extra cash, and I’m a good fighter. Figured I’d put it to use.”

Y/N can sense more of a story behind his words, but she can also tell by his demeanor that he’s not in the sharing mood. Instead of prying more, she just nods and takes his hand, pressing it over her hand and the cold compress. She gives herself a split second to enjoy his hand on hers before pulling her own hand away.

She stands up slowly as she snaps off her gloves, tossing them in the garbage. “Take some Ibuprofen if you have any pain, and again, if you start to feel weird—”

“See an actual doctor.” Harry finishes the sentence for her with a small smile. “Because you’re not one.”

“Exactly.” Y/N clicks the medical kit closed. “Now you get it.”

“So what are you then, if not an actual doctor?” Harry asks, leaning back on the bench to look up at her better. “What made you start here?”

Y/N pauses by the lockers, surprised he’s inquiring about her life. “I’m a nursing student at NYU. I’m here because I was the only one dumb enough to answer Patrick’s ad, apparently.”

A chuckle rolls out of Harry’s body, and Y/N watches as she tries to hide the wince caused by his abdomen contracting. “Are you—?” She begins to step closer, but Harry waves off her concern.

“I’m fine.” He insists. “Don’t change the subject.”

“Right.” Y/N gives him a confused look. “What was the subject, again?”

“You. Your life.” Harry shifts the cold compress to his other hand, flexing his cold fingers to get blood circulating. Y/N watches the movement for a moment before forcing herself to meet his eyes again.

“What about my life?” She asks, just a hint of breathlessness detectable in her voice.

Harry shrugs with one shoulder as he stands, making his way to the locker next to Y/N. He opens it quickly, grabbing a t-shirt from within and smoothly pulls it on with one hand. The fabric settles over his muscles nicely. “I don’t know. I’m just curious.”

Y/N’s brow furrows as she takes in his words. “Okay, but…no offence, Harry, I just—I don’t think it’s very wise of me to tell you too much about my life.”

Harry’s mouth twitches down into a frown as he grabs his leather jacket from the locker, shutting it with a bang that echoes around the empty locker room. “Why not?”

“Because it’s not safe?” Y/N knows her words are true, but her infliction makes it sound like a question, and Harry proves himself eager to answer it.

“It’s not?” Harry glances around the locker room slowly, gesturing to the empty space. “Who else is here?”

“Just you, but I—that’s part of the reason.” Y/N speaks steadily and carefully, as if to make Harry understand, but the words are as much a reminder for herself as they are for him. “You shouldn’t know about my life. About me. At least, not any more than you need to.”

That unreadable look crosses over Harry’s face again, clouding his green irises in mystery. His free hand combs through his long hair, still damp from his shower, as his teeth worry his bottom lip. “Who decides what I need to know?”

Y/N tightens her grip on the medical kit, the feel of the rough leather acting as a reminder for where she is and who she’s with. “I do.” She murmurs. “I decide.”

Harry nods roughly once, jerking his chin up as he takes the cold compress off his eye. The bruise is darker now, staining his pale skin, but he hands the compress back to her. “Alright, then. Thanks for clearing that up.”

From the tone of his voice, Y/N gets the sense that he’s bothered by what she said, but she doesn’t let herself focus on it. Harry’s is a grown man, and if he has an issue with what she’s saying, he can tell her. It’s not her job to coddle him and drag his feelings out.

Y/N matches his tone of voice, looking him straight in the eye as she replies. “You’re welcome.”

…

When Y/N’s phone rings three weeks later with an unknown number flashing on the screen just past midnight on a Thursday, she almost doesn’t answer it. After a day of consecutive classes and working through tutorials and labs until her mind went numb, she can’t handle dealing with a telemarketer in a different time zone. However, the New York area code catches her eye, and her curiosity gets the best of her as she picks up her phone and taps the screen.

“Hello?”

“Y/N?” Harry’s familiar accent crackles through her speaker, half drowned out from the sound of yelling and New York traffic.

“Harry?” Y/N sits up on her couch so fast that she almost spills her tea. “What—how did you get my number?”

“Texted Patrick for it.” Harry’s voice drifts further away, and Y/N can’t make out what he’s saying.

“What?” She presses the phone closer to her ear in an attempt to hear him. “I can’t understand, Harry—”

“What’s your address?” Harry repeats again, his voice finally audible. “It’s in Tribeca, right?”

Y/N sets down her tea with a thud. “I—yeah, but—”

“Just text it to me, please.” Harry asks, his voice low and strained. “I’ll be there in ten.”

“But—”

The line clicks dead.

Y/N stares down in her phone in shock for a moment before adding Harry’s number to her contacts and texting him her address. She’s not sure why she does it without question—she should be concerned that he’s coming for a negative reason, she thinks, but something in his voice over the phone…there was something there that she’d never heard before.

A knock comes to her door eight minutes later, after Y/N’s bustled around her tiny studio apartment to tidy it up. She’s normally a clean person, but had to toss some clothes in her hamper, put her mug in the sink, and, three seconds before the knock came, tossed her old teddy bear under her bed.

When Y/N opens the door, she’s not entirely sure what she’s expecting, but she knows for sure it isn’t this.

Harry is slumped against your door frame, his right hand cradled to his chest by his left arm. There’s a dark liquid splattered on his navy blue shirt, and it takes Y/N a second to register that it’s blood, not alcohol, despite his body reeking of liquor. His curls, which are normally so soft and carefully tied back, are falling into his eyes as he struggles to keep himself upright. Bruises are already blossoming along his jaw, there’s a split in the skin next to his eyebrow, and a frightening amount of blood trailing down his cheek like tears. A sheen of sweat covers his face and neck, and when he looks at Y/N, she can see the moment it takes him to register that it’s her he’s looking at.

“Oh my God—” Y/N grabs his shoulders quickly, leading him into the apartment. She can tell he’s trying his best to walk independently, but half his body weight is being pressed into her while she struggles to lead him to the couch.

A groan escapes Harry’s lips as he flops onto the couch, low and weak and a complete knife in Y/N’s chest. Normally, when she sees someone this injured, she goes straight into nurse mode, examining them without emotion, but there’s something about the way Harry’s chest is rapidly rising and falling that’s preventing her from doing that.

“Harry—I—” She pushes his curls back from his face, and is horrified to find blood on her hand when she pulls it back. “What happened?”

“I—” The words struggle to make it past his pale lips as he takes a shuddering breath. “I got into a fight. At the bar.”

The answer is so simple, so common, and yet it shocks Y/N that she pauses mid-step on her way to get her medical kit. “A bar fight? This is from a bar fight?”

Harry nods once as he winces. “Had a few—few too many. Got into an argument.” He grits his teeth as he does his best to take his jacket off. “Christ—”

“Stop.” Y/N sets her medical kit down on the coffee table, reaching over and carefully helping him remove his jacket. Her curiosity is raging inside her—what could have irritated Harry so much that he would fight in a bar? And, even more pressing, what could have irritated him so much that he would lose? “So you can only box while sober, huh?”

“Yeah.” Harry mutters the word, a tinge of shame echoing in the back of his voice. “Apparently.”

Y/N tosses his jacket to the ground once it’s off, her eyes canvassing over Harry’s body. There’s so much that seems wrong that she doesn’t even know where to start. “Okay, just—what hurts? What happened?”

“The bastard got a few good shots in at my head. Split my eyebrow, but that’s about it.” Harry sucks in a sharp breath as he hears you snap on your disposable gloves. “But I—shit—I fucked up my hand, Y/N. I threw a bad punch and—fuck—”

Y/N carefully takes Harry’s injured hand in her own, examining it closely. A few of his knuckles are split and dripping blood down his pale skin. His calloused fingers are bruised, swelling over the rings he’s wearing, and Y/N knows that those have to be the first things to go. She takes one of her decorative pillows and sets it on Harry’s lap, setting his injured hand on top of it before quickly moving to her fridge. She grabs an ice pack from the freezer and wraps it in a tea towel, tucking it under her arm as her eyes scan her apartment for something to help her get his rings off. Only one thing comes to her mind, and Y/N tries to control the blood rushing to her cheeks as she opens her bedside drawer and grabs the lube she keeps stashed there.

When Harry sees it in her hand, he raises an eyebrow for a split second until the pain of the cut catches him off guard.

“What—” He takes a deep breath as she settles next to him, carefully setting the ice pack underneath his hand. “What’s the KY for?”

Y/N attempts to keep her voice steady as she answers. “You’re wearing two rings. We have to get them off before your fingers swell any more.” She pops the seal of the lube open and pours a liberal amount over Harry’s fingers. “This—this is going to hurt, so just—I’m sorry.”

Harry nods once, his eyes closed as his head jerks in response. “Just do it.”

Although she does her best to be gentle, Y/N can feel Harry’s body tensing as she pulls the rings over his bruised fingers. No words leave his lips, but she can tell that he’s gritting his teeth to keep quiet as she works the two rings off.

“Good. Good job.” She sets the lube-covered rings on her coffee table with a clink. “That was the worst of it, I think. Or I hope, at least.”

A huff of liquor scented air passes through Harry’s lips. “Is it broken?”

Y/N gingerly picks up Harry’s hand, moving his fingers as much as she can, feeling for anything out of place. “I don’t think so, no.” She murmurs in a quiet voice. “Just sprained, I think. Your index and middle finger got it the worst, but I’m fairly certain they’re not fractured.”

“Fairly certain?” Harry asks, jaw tense. “How could we be 100% certain?”

“If we went to an actual hospital and got an X-ray.” Y/N shoots back, giving him a harsh look. “But seeing as how you’re here, I assume that’s something you don’t want to do.”

Harry exhales hard as she cleans his hand with a wipe. “No. It’s not.”

Once his hand is clean, Y/N wraps it in a bandage carefully, setting it back down on the ice pack once the bandage is secure. With his hand taken care of, she turns her attention to Harry’s face. The cut in his brow has stopped bleeding now, enough for Y/N to see that it’s not horribly deep. “I don’t need to stitch it.” She tells him as she grabs a cotton pad and rubbing alcohol. “I just need to clean it and then bandage it.”

Harry winces when she presses the alcohol soaked pad to the cut.

“Sorry.” Y/N mumbles, her eyes trained on the split skin next to his eyebrow.

“S’alright, I’ll manage.” Harry matches her mumble, his voice barely audible in the quiet living room. She can feel the heat of his skin pressed against her hand, and just when she’s thinking that there’s no way that her icy skin can feel pleasant, Harry sighs.

“Your hands are cold.” He murmurs, his uninjured hand touching the hand that’s cupping his jaw to keep him steady. “It’s nice. Feels like a million degrees in here.”

Y/N resists the urge to pull her hand away from his, keeping all her focus on applying the bandage to his eyebrow like it’s a monumentally difficult task. She waits until she’s smoothed the beige cover over his skin to respond. “Probably because you’re so sweaty.” She presses her other hand to his forehead, doing her best to ignore how another sigh slips past Harry’s lips. “I hope you don’t have a fever…”

“’M just warm, that’s all.” His words are less slurred than they had been when he first arrived, and his green eyes are just starting to open again. “The bar was hot.”

Y/N pulls her hand away from his forehead. “Right.” She walks the three steps it takes her to get to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. “Here.” She hands it to Harry, along with two ibuprofen pills from her medical kit. “Swallow these, and then drink that entire glass of water.”

“You got it, Doc.” Harry murmurs, following her instructions immediately. Y/N rolls her eyes as she takes a seat next to him again, carefully readjusting the ice pack on his injured hand.

“How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?” She asks in a tired voice. Harry’s hair is falling into his eyes, she notices, and she doesn’t even think before she slips her hair tie off her wrist to carefully pull his curls into a bun on top of his head.

Harry doesn’t complain. “Patrick calls you Doc,” is the only thing he says.

“That’s because Patrick is…Patrick.” Y/N settles back into the couch as she watches Harry drink the water. “Why didn’t you call him for my address instead of my number? You could’ve been here quicker.”

“I did.” Harry swallows down another gulp of water, his good hand wiping his mouth gingerly. “He told me to ask you myself. Said he wouldn’t give your address out to creeps.”

A rush of affection flows through Y/N’s heart for the tough gym owner. “That’s good to know.”

“It is.” Harry agrees after another drink of water. Once he’s drained it, Y/N takes the glass from him and sets it on the coffee table.

“Thank you.” Harry murmurs gratefully. “For…everything tonight. I really—I appreciate it.”

“You don’t need to thank me, it’s my—”

“No, Y/N. This isn’t your job.” Harry looks at her intensely, a sincerity on his face that she’s never seen before, or at the very least, never noticed before. “Bandaging my hand and head at one A.M. in your apartment isn’t your job. I know you—you said you didn’t want me to know things about you, and now—”

“Not quite.” Now it’s Y/N’s turn to cut him off. “I said I would decide what you could know, and I decided that you could know my address. Just don’t tell anyone else at the gym, alright?”

Despite the bruising-induced tenderness on his face, Harry frowns immediately. “I would never do that. They’re all awful, and I would never…betray you like that.”

Y/N’s heart rate picks up as she listens to Harry speak. There’s something about him throwing around the word “betray” in the same sentence as “I” and “you” that makes a rush flow through her veins. “Thanks.”

“I know it’s not easy for you there.” Harry carefully gauges her reaction as he speaks. “I’ve heard how they speak to you. It’s—they have no respect.”

“It’s nothing you need to worry about.” Y/N sighs, tucking her hair behind her ears (her hair tie is in Harry’s hair, and she’s too tired to get another one from the bathroom). “I’m used to it.”

Harry’s frown deepens, his lips finally pinkening back up (which Y/N notices for medical reasons. Purely medical reasons). “You shouldn’t have to be used to it.”

Y/N barks out a laugh, harsh and short. “Are you serious?”

“Of course I’m serious.” Harry’s face is indignant, and in any other circumstances, Y/N might find it endearing. But not now.

“Harry.” She clears the laughter out of her voice. “Do you know what I deal with every day?”

“With the boxers? Yeah—”

“No. Just in general.” Y/N tucks her legs underneath her as she settles herself into the couch, careful not to bump Harry’s hand. “I’m a female in the medical field. The amount of shit I get from people, from men…” She shakes her head. “I’ve had male professors tell me it’s a good thing that I’m going to nursing school, and not medical school, because I’m too emotional to handle being a doctor. I’ve heard male medical students tell female medical students that they don’t belong in the program, because girls can’t make quick and rational decisions with patients. I’ve watched my male classmates be belittled for choosing to be a nurse over being a doctor. And that’s just the tip of the iceberg.” Y/N bites her lip, but only for a moment. Now that she’s started, she can’t stop the flood of words pouring out of her. “Every day, I get my decisions and my calls second guessed by my superiors, while my male classmates’ decisions are accepted right away. I get called ‘sweetheart’ and ‘honey’ and ‘darling’ by professors and patients alike, while my male classmates are ‘mister’ and ‘nurse’. It’s nothing new.”

Harry watches her as she speaks with eyes full of awareness. She can tell he’s hanging on every word, his gaze trained on her and her only. He doesn’t speak as she pauses for a breath, so she continues, a rushed urgency weaving its way through her words.

“Do you want to know why I told you that I didn’t need your concern or your protection at the gym?” Y/N leans the side of her head against the back of the couch, not breaking Harry’s stare. “Because I deal with that shit every day, and I’ve learned to either ignore it or handle it myself. Unless some asshole puts his hands on me, and I physically need your help, then I’m fine. Can you understand that?”

Harry clears his throat once, but his voice is still thick when he replies. “Yeah, I can. I’m sorry that I—it was never my intention to push the topic, or make you uncomfortable, but I did. I’m sorry.”

The sincere apology brings a warm feeling to Y/N’s stomach, and it radiates further throughout her body with every breath Harry takes. “I accept your apology. Thank you.”

Harry smiles at her just the slightest bit, the corners of his mouth tugging up, and the warmth increases when Y/N notices the dimples that appear in his cheeks. Something about them makes Harry look so much younger, so much more innocent…and Y/N’s not certain why, but something about that observation makes her feel electric. As a distraction, she reaches for a wipe from her kit, catching Harry’s eye before touching his face with it. “May I?” She asks, waiting for his nod.

When he gives it, she begins to wipe the sweat and dried blood from his face, careful not to aggravate his bruises. It only takes her a few moments, but she spends extra time running the wipe over his cheeks, feeling the dip of his dimples beneath the cloth.

“Y/N…” Harry’s voice rumbles deep in his chest as his good hand catches hers. The wipe falls from her fingers as he keeps her hand pressed to his cheek. “You’re a wonderful nurse.” He says, his deep green irises burning holes into her own.

The burning of Harry’s skin is so much more apparent when he nuzzles his cheek into her hand, and Y/N feels as if she’s the one who’s been drinking with how badly her head is spinning at the contact. “I think…” She does her best to make sense of her words, while Harry busies himself with moving her hand over his cheek, guiding her to stroke the stubbled skin. “I think you may have a fever.”

Harry gives a short shake of his head, and he maneuvers Y/N’s hand over his lips before responding. “’S just how you make me feel. Feverish.” A small laugh falls out of his mouth, and he presses a chaste kiss to the tips of her cold fingers. “Sorry. I shouldn’t say that.”

An involuntary sound echoes from the back of Y/N’s throat at his words, and she’s not sure if it’s a gasp, a whimper, or both, but it brings heat to her cheeks nonetheless. “N-no. You shouldn’t say that.”

“Sorry.” Harry repeats again, his lips gently brushing against her fingertips over and over. “I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re drunk.” Y/N briefly thinks that she should pull her hand away, but she doesn’t, and while she may later blame that on her thinking she wouldn’t be able to, the truth is that she doesn’t want to. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I’m not that drunk.” Harry moves her hand to cup his cheek again, his thumb rubbing over her knuckles in a gentle but constant motion. “I know what I’m doing.”

Y/N’s breath hitches as Harry turns his head to plant a kiss in the middle of her open palm. His lips are just as warm as the rest of him, and she’s starting to wonder if there’s a fire burning inside him, deep in his chest.

It would explain the burning she feels whenever she’s near him.

“You have the hands of a healer, y’know that?” Harry’s voice echoes from deep in his chest, filling her senses with the cadence of his accent. “Calloused for all the right reasons. The complete opposite of mine.”

With a shaking breath, Y/N carefully threads her fingers through Harry’s, the metal of his rings cooling down the fire she feels. “I…I love your hands.” She says truthfully, because apparently they’re being truthful tonight. “They’re so strong when you fight, but…when you’re like this…” Y/N lets go of his hand, but keeps their fingers locked together, so both of their palms are open. It’s like each of them is an extension of the other, and delight flushes through her when she realizes it. “You’re gentle with me.”

“Because I don’t want to hurt you.” Harry breathes, shifting a bit on the couch. A flicker of pain darkens his face, and Y/N’s free hand moves to his chest, rubbing circles over his shirt to soothe him. A relaxed sigh falls from his lips. “I don’t want you to be afraid of me.”

Y/N’s brow furrows, her hands pausing their movements. A whine of protest leaves Harry’s pink lips, but she ignores it as she gives him a confused look. “You think I’m afraid of you?”

“I-I wouldn’t blame you if you were.” As Harry’s eyes drop to their intertwined fingers, Y/N begins to realize that this—his body close, his eyes downcast, his voice quiet—this is Harry opening up. This is Harry being vulnerable, honest, and himself. The fear in his voice is as much himself as the calm look on his face before a fight.

His fingers fiddle with hers as he searches for his next words, and Y/N can see the effort he’s making to choose the right thing to say. “I…” He pauses, the struggle clear on his face before he tries again. “Every week, you see what I do, right? You know—better than anyone, you know what I’m capable of. So if you were afraid of me, I…I wouldn’t blame you, Y/N. I’d understand.”

If someone asked Y/N in this moment how she got here, she wouldn’t be able to explain it. The journey from Point A has never been more muddled, but Point B is so clearly within her sight that she doesn’t care. How did she get here? she asks herself, when she already knows the answer like she knows the back of her hand, the bones and muscles of Harry’s body, and the precariousness of their situation. How did she get here? Y/N has no fucking clue. But here is the vulnerable look in Harry’s deep green eyes, the steady beat of his heart under her hand, the raw emotion in his voice, and Y/N wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

When Y/N realizes that, how badly she wants Harry, after weeks of denying it, the wind gets knocked out of her chest. She struggles to form words, to take anything more than a shallow breath, to do anything but watch as Harry’s composure starts to slip more and more. His teeth tug on his bottom lip more and more frequently, and his breathing increases as he sits anxiously, waiting for her response.

“I…” Y/N begins to rub his chest again, the circles careful and tight, and the anxiety that she heard in Harry’s words is now laced through her own. “I could never be…afraid of you, Harry. I told you, you’re…you’re gentle with me.”

He exhales a quick breath of relief as she speaks, the tightness visibly relaxing out of his expression, and Y/N moves her hand from his chest to his neck, cupping over his pulse point, her fingers tangling in the few strands of Hair she couldn’t tie back.

“You’re not—you don’t—” She struggles to find the right words, the perfect way to express herself. “I don’t know how to say it…”

“’S’alright.” Harry assures her right away as he presses their palms together again. “You don’t need to say it, Y/N, I—fuck—!”

Harry cries out with pain, his injured hand falling back onto the ice pack covered pillow after he tried to move it. Y/N immediately tends to it, securing the ice pack back around it quickly and carefully as Harry closes his eyes and lets his head fall back on the couch.

“Did you forget it’s sprained?” She asks him incredulously, cupping his cheek so he’ll look her in the eyes. “What were you trying to do?”

“I wanted to—your hair—” Harry grits his teeth, sucking in a quick breath as he struggles to control the pain. “I wanted to touch it, but I forgot…”

Y/N sighs, smoothing her thumb over his jaw. “You should go to bed. It’s late.”

Harry nods slightly, his eyes glued to the ground as he lets go of your hand and carefully stands. “Thank you for your help. I’ll get out of your hair—”

“What are you doing?” Y/N stands quickly, her arms automatically moving to support Harry. “You’re not leaving. You can’t go home like this.”

Harry meets her eyes with a look of confusion before glancing around her small studio apartment. “You don’t have a guest room, Y/N. Don’t worry about me, I’ve gone home looking worse. It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not. You’re not going anywhere.” Y/N tugs carefully on the sleeve covering his good arm. “C’mon. I have some clothes you can borrow.”

“I can’t stay—”

“Yes, you can.” She says stubbornly, her soft look transforming into a firm stare, as if she’s challenging him to challenge her. “It’s not a big deal, Harry. Not unless you make it one.”

The corners of his lips twitch, and Y/N wants to plant kiss after kiss on the edge of his mouth until he gives her a true smile. “Fine, Doc.” Harry murmurs. “If you say so.”

Y/N helps him to her bathroom, setting him down on the edge of her tub before grabbing him clothes from her dresser. Harry examines them after she hands them to him, a clear look of displeasure written on his face.

“These are men’s clothes.” He says quietly, holding up the sweatpants and t-shirt.

Y/N chews on her bottom lip. “Yeah. They are.”

Harry stares at her for a beat, waiting for an elaboration. When one doesn’t come, he decides to prompt it. “Whose clothes are these?”

“An ex.” Y/N says simply, her usual guard is back as she turns to open her bathroom cabinet. “There’s, um, a spare toothbrush in here. Use anything you need. I’ll…give you a moment to change.”

As Harry changes (which takes longer than Y/N would’ve thought, but then again, it may be hard to do with one sprained hand), Y/N busies herself with cleaning up. She tosses out the wipes and cotton pads stained with blood, and packs up her medical kit before setting it in her closet. As she pulls back the covers of her bed, a seed of regret begins to grow in her stomach. Would she be able to handle sleeping next to Harry? The idea of being encompassed by the smell of his cologne and musk for an extended period of time makes her woozy, and she’s beginning to consider sleeping on the couch when he emerges from the bathroom.

His build is bigger than that of her ex, so the t-shirt strains across his shoulders and arms. The pants fit nicely, but almost too nicely, if the way that Y/N can’t stop the thoughts that are racing through her head are any clue.

“They fit.” She says lamely as Harry approaches the bed, the ice pack still wrapped against his sprained hand. “That’s…that’s good.”

“Yeah. Your ex and I are pretty close in size.” Harry sits on the edge of the bed, his every movement careful and calculated. Now that the alcohol has completely left his system, Y/N can see how he’s assessing the situation with every passing moment.

Her instinct tells her that that’s good, and it’s what she should be doing too, but the memory of him touching her on the couch is too sweet to let her be cautious. They’ve passed that point, she thinks, and so she pushes back the covers, giving Harry a long look.

“Come here.” Y/N says quietly, beckoning him towards her. “Please.”

It’s the small plea that gets to Harry, and he can’t stop himself from carefully moving underneath the blanket. His warmth is immediately apparent, and Y/N thinks that the blankets are probably unnecessary if she’s going to be sleeping next to Harry’s fire all night.

Once he’s situated comfortably (or as comfortable as he can be with a sprained hand), Y/N flicks off her lamp, and darkness envelopes them. It takes a minute of blinking in the darkness for her eyes to adjust, but she quickly finds Harry’s green irises in the darkness. They give off their own light, she thinks, but that’s not surprising.

They lay there for a moment, each of them on their side, until Y/N decides to break the silence. “Hi.” She whispers into the space between them.

“Hi.” Harry’s low voice echoes back. His minty breath rolls over her, and Y/N lets out a soft sigh after inhaling the scent. She likes it more than she should.

Quiet falls between them again as each of them takes in the other. Y/N feels like she’s trying to memorize every plane of Harry’s face, like there’s going to be a quiz later and she needs to ace it. Where are the creases between his eyebrows? Where is his stubble the darkest? Where is the tiny, crescent shaped scar? Y/N commits every detail to memory, if only for her own pleasure. Being this close to him reminds her that he’s real, and she can’t help but wonder if Harry is doing the same.

There’s a tenseness between them, and Y/N’s not quite sure how to fix it. She’s certain she’ll never be able to relax around Harry, until his good hand reaches out and begins to stroke her hair.

The action is so tender and so gentle that her breath hitches in her chest. Harry keeps his eyes locked on hers, his gaze intense and unrelenting as his fingers deftly work their way through her hair. Y/N watches his chest rise and fall in time with his movements, and there’s something about the synchronized actions that calms her racing heart.

A flicker of emotion in Harry’s eyes is the last thing she registers before her own eyes drift shut.

…

The note is scribbled messily on a scrap of paper from her kitchen note pad, left on the pillow for Y/N to find the next morning.

Thanks again for the help. -H

…

“Patrick, you can’t be fucking serious.”

The gym owner gives her a sharp look as he taps ash off his cigarette. “Do I look like I’m one for jokes, Doc?”

Y/N’s mouth gapes open for a moment, her grip tightening on the back of the office chair. “Harry can’t fight tonight! He hurt his hand! Haven’t you listened to anything I told you?”

“Honestly, Doc, the only thing I listened to was Styles himself telling me he was fine.” Patrick gives Y/N a pointed look. “He wants to fight, so he’s going to fight.”

“It’s your gym!” Y/N yells, the anger inside her outweighing the feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach. “Tell him no!”

Puffing on his cigarette, Patrick shakes his head once. “I’m not doing that. Those people out there paid to see Styles fight, and that’s what they’re going to get.”

“They’re not going to see Harry fight.” Y/N spits out through gritted teeth. “They’re going to see Harry lose!”

“That’s his business.” Patrick shrugs nonchalantly, as if they’re not discussing how Harry’s blood is about to be splattered against the off-white vinyl of the ring. “I make my money either way, Doc.”

“And that’s your business, isn’t it?” Y/N says scathingly, pushing away from the chair. She lets her nails dig into her palms instead. “You don’t care who gets hurt, as long as you get your money!”

Patrick stands up now, his agitation beginning to show. “I’m not the bad guy here, Y/N. Harry says he’s good to fight, so he’s fighting. I’m not his babysitter, and I’m not his mother. He’s old enough to make his own decisions.”

Y/N opens her mouth again, but no sound comes out. Instead, she gives Patrick one last look of fury before storming out of his office, slamming the door behind her.

She should’ve known. She should’ve known that Harry would still try to fight tonight, despite his sprained hand that’s had less than two days to heal. In all honesty, the thought that he would try to fight never even occurred to her until she walked into the gym tonight and overheard multiple men talking in excitement about the match. When she first heard the name Styles, she had been sure she that was mishearing the conversations. But then it happened again. And again. And when she realized that Harry planned on fighting, she had been certain, so foolishly certain, that Patrick would cancel the match when she explained the situation.

It’s her own fault, she thinks, making her way into the crowd to watch the match. It’s her own fault for getting too comfortable, for believing that anyone would listen to what she says. The way Harry had looked at her made her believe that her words mattered, but tonight…this is a harsh reminder of what the world is really like.

If she thought there would be any chance of convincing Harry to call off the match, Y/N would storm the locker room in an instant, yelling and screaming and pleading until Harry saw sense. It was a double-edged sword, really. She knows him now, which makes her care for him more than ever before. And knowing him means knowing that he won’t back down from this match.

Y/N knows it’s going to be bad when Harry walks out with his sprained hand held awkwardly at his side, his face void of its usual calm and collected expression. But she knows it’s going to be a blood bath when Adam Bowers immediately follows him.

While Harry is doing his best to not show the pain and weakness on his face, Bowers is snarling at him from across the ring, rage and fury written into every one of his movements. It’s clear that Bowers wants his revenge for the humiliation Harry caused him in his very first match, and Y/N knows that he’ll stop at nothing to get it.

While most of the short match is watched from behind her hands, Y/N doesn’t miss the important moments. Harry on all fours, spitting blood out onto the vinyl matt. Harry barely dodging a punch, only to take a fist to his chest and having the wind knocked out of him. Harry gritting his teeth as his fist connects with Bowers’ jaw, not hard enough to hurt him, but enough to make him angry. Harry facedown on the floor of the ring, breath barely moving in and out of his body as blood streams from a gash on his head, mixing with the blood already flowing from his nose.

As the fear and panic seizes Y/N’s body, everything around her begins to move in slow motion. She sees the crowd roar, but does not hear it. She sees the referee drag Bowers away from Harry’s limp body, but does not hear the words he’s yelling. She sees Jeff run into the ring, but does not hear him calling for help. She sees Patrick run towards her, but does not hear him screaming her name until the fourth or fifth time.

“Y/N!” He yells again, grabbing her arm and yanking her behind him as he tears through the crowd. “Come on!”

Y/N lets herself be pulled back to the locker room, which is being transformed into a makeshift E.R. Men that she’s never met before are opening a folding table over the bench, tossing training mats on top of it to make a poor man’s gurney. Patrick takes the medical kit from her hands, opening it roughly and throwing a pair of clean gloves at her. If she were in a clearer state of mind, Y/N would scream at him, demand to know why he allowed this to happen, but the sound of Jeff’s yelling signals Harry’s arrival, and all thoughts rush out of her head.

Jeff and another man carry Harry into the locker room, and while Y/N can tell they’re trying to be careful, groans are leaving Harry’s mouth as they lay him face up on the folding table, displaying the full extent of his injuries.

And here it is. The fall of Harry Styles.

Bruises are blossoming over every inch of skin that she can see, new tattoos that she hates the meaning behind, but those are the least of her worries. There’s swelling and agitation in his sprained hand (which she suspects is now broken), along with blood spilling from his split knuckles. His nose is swollen and bleeding, his lip is cut open, and there’s a black eye forming on his face at an alarming rate. His cut from a few nights ago has split open again, three times as wide, two times as deep, and the blood pouring down his face is getting into his half shut eyes.

That’s where Y/N decides to start.

She takes a deep breath to center herself, pushing all of her emotions out of her as best as she can. Harry needs her right now. He needs her to take care of him in the way that only she can.

Y/N ties her hair out of her face quickly before snapping on the gloves. She pushes Jeff and Patrick out of the way, grabbing her penlight from her kit and stepping towards Harry.

“Harry.” She speaks in a calm but firm voice. “Open your eyes for me, Harry. Can you do that?”

His eyelids flutter at her voice, the green that she’s come to know barely peaking through. Y/N flicks on the penlight, carefully raising one of his eyelids and then the other while shining the light in his eyes. The dilation of his pupils is slightly uneven, but Y/N ignores the sick feeling that it causes in her stomach so that she can continue to work.

“Jeff.” She calls over her shoulder. “Put on gloves and apply pressure to the gash on his forehead. Keep talking to him while you do it.”

Jeff steps forward and follows her instructions exactly. She hears him muttering to Harry, but can’t make out the words as her focus shifts to Harry’s abdomen. His breathing is still shallow, much too shallow for her liking, and she’s worried that something is affecting his lungs.

“Patrick, I need my stetho—” Before Y/N finishes the sentence, Patrick is already holding out the item for her, swapping it for her penlight. She mutters a quick “thank you” as she slips the ends in her ears. “Harry, I need you to take a deep breath for me, alright?” She places the stethoscope on his chest. “As deep as you can.”

Harry sucks in a breath, but quickly moans in pain.

Y/N curses under her breath. “Again, Harry. As deep as you can.”

Again, the only breath he can take is shallow and constricted. Y/N loops the stethoscope around her neck as she begins to examine his chest, her fingers prodding around the bruises. When she gets to his ribs, Harry lets out another cry, jerking forward on the table.

“Keep him still.” Y/N commands Jeff and the other man, who she finally recognizes as a gym trainer named Nick. She pushes on the same spot, her face grim as she receives the same reaction.

“I think he has a fractured rib.” She glances at Jeff before continuing her examination. “Just one, I think, but there’s definitely something wrong. It doesn’t feel completely broken, or like there’s any splinters, but that last hit to his chest—” Y/N’s demeanor begins to slip as she remembers the sight of Harry lying on the floor of the ring, and she shakes her head to clear the image from her mind. She needs to focus. “Yeah. Fractured rib.”

Y/N moves through the checklist in her mind, turning her attention to Harry’s injured hand. It’s still wrapped from his fight, so she grabs her bandage scissors from her bag to get a better look at the damage. She tries to be careful as she cuts, but she knows Harry’s in pain, and she wishes she had stronger medicine to offer than an extra strength ibuprofen.

It doesn’t take her long to guess that his hand is fractured. Of course, she can’t be entirely sure without an X-ray, but the closest thing to an X-ray machine that she has at her disposal is the vending machine down the hall. Y/N does her best to clean the cuts on his knuckles, carefully bandaging them before looking up at Patrick.

“Go to the pharmacy and buy a hand brace.” She tells him as she wraps a cold compress around Harry’s hand. “Something sturdy. And get more painkillers.”

Patrick disappears with a nod, leaving Y/N with just Jeff and Nick to help her. She sets another cold compress over his abdomen before working her way up to the injuries that look the worst.

Harry’s nose, she’s surprised to find, isn’t broken. She can touch it without hearing any cracking sounds, and, to her relief, the majority of the blood beneath his nose is from the initial hit. She instructs Jeff to hold another cold compress lightly to the area before she moves to the gash on his forehead.

From the first look, Y/N knows it’s bad. Despite the pressure Jeff’s been applying, the gash hasn’t stopped bleeding, and seems to be tearing more every time Harry’s forehead contracts in pain. She wipes more blood from the area as the dread in her stomach grows.

“I think…” Y/N takes a deep breath through her mouth. “I’m going to have to stitch it.”

Jeff and Nick exchange a look with each other as Y/N pushes back Harry’s sweat and blood slicked curls from his forehead.

“Nick, grab me two ibuprofen and some water. And Jeff, pass me my suturing kit, will you? It’s probably towards the bottom of my bag.” Y/N waits until the two men are preoccupied with their tasks to address Harry. His eyes are still closed, but he’s vocal enough to voice when he’s in pain. “Harry.” She murmurs, smoothing his hair again. “Harry, do you know where you are?”

Harry sucks in another shallow breath as his eyelids crack open. “I-I’m—the locker room. In the locker room.”

Y/N nods quickly. “You are. Do you remember what happened?”

“Had a…” Harry’s brow furrows, causing a fresh stream of blood to drip from the gash. Y/N applies more pressure as he speaks. “Had a match. Got hurt.”

“You did.” Y/N nods again, glancing at the medicine in Nick’s hand. Harry’s responses ease her worries of a serious concussion, so she motions Nick over. “You have a bad cut on your forehead, Harry, so I need you to take this medicine before I fix it, alright?”

Harry makes a noise of understanding in the back of his throat, and Y/N swaps out her gloves and prepares her sutures while Nick helps Harry swallow the pills. She prays that she hasn’t underestimated the severity of his head injury, and that the medicine won’t do more damage than good. She knows it’s risky, but she just wants to give him something to ease his pain, even if it’s only a fraction of the painkillers he actually needs.

Jeff sets up a folding chair for Y/N, so she can sit and be more comfortable as she stitches the gash closed. Y/N steadies herself against the cold metal chair before turning her attention back to Harry.

“I’m going to stitch you now, Harry, alright?” She says in a clear voice. “It—it’s going to hurt, but I have to do it. If the pain gets really bad—” she nods at Jeff, who takes Harry’s uninjured hand in his own. “Squeeze Jeff’s hand, but only with your left hand. Do you understand?”

Harry manages to mutter a weak “yeah,” before his eyes clamp shut again.

Stitching somebody up in a locker room is about as awful as Y/N imagined it would be.

She knows that each tug of the needle through Harry’s skin hurts him badly, and with no anesthetic, the pain only increases with each stitch. Harry, to his credit, does his best to stay still, gritting his teeth and squeezing Jeff’s hand until it turns blue, but small moans and whimpers still escape him every few minutes. When Y/N finally finishes, cleaning and bandaging the now-closed wound, the entire room breathes a sigh of relief.

Patrick returns a few minutes later with more medicine and a brace, which Y/N carefully straps onto Harry’s fractured hand. After that, all that’s left for her to do is to wipe more blood from his face and say a prayer.

The pain medication now finally starting to kick in, Harry begins to doze off, his breathing shallow yet even. It’s not until his eyes completely close that the exhaustion and emotions catch up with Y/N, and she leans against the lockers, her back sliding down them until she’s seated on the ground with her knees pulled to her chest.

Patrick crouches down next to her, taking off her plastic gloves and handing her a water bottle. “You did good, Doc.” He mutters, rubbing her shoulder. “Really good.”

Y/N takes the water from him, but offers no other response. It’ll take her a bit of time to forgive Patrick for this, she thinks, although she knows most of the blame is on Harry’s shoulders.

Jeff sits down in the metal hair he brought for Y/N and lets out a long sigh. “Thank you, Y/N. If it weren’t for you, I don’t know…”

“He shouldn’t have been fighting tonight, Jeff.” Y/N says in a thick voice, her fingers picking at the label on the bottle. “He was injured, and—”

“I tried to stop him.” Jeff glances at Harry’s sleeping form. “He’s so fucking stubborn. He insisted on fighting.”

“No more.” Y/N shakes her head. “No more fights. Not until he’s completely recovered.”

No one contradicts her.

Nick reappears in the doorway, despite Y/N not even realizing he had left the room, with a pair of keys in his hand. “I got the car ready, Jeff. We can move him whenever.”

“Where are you taking him?” Y/N asks, and while she hopes the answer is “a hospital,” she knows it won’t be.

“Back to his apartment.” Jeff stands up slowly, wiping his hands on his pants. “I’ll stay with him for a bit, make sure he’s alright.” He glances at Y/N. “Can I call you if—?”

Y/N nods before he even finishes the sentence, her eyes trained on the rise and fall of Harry’s chest. It had soothed her less two nights before, and its continuation still soothed her now. “Yeah. Call me if he needs anything. I’ll come right over.”

…

It takes five days for Harry’s name to pop up on Y/N’s phone screen.

While she normally keeps her phone on do not disturb during class, she programmed his number to come through, just in case there was any sort of emergency. The sound of her phone vibrating on her desk makes her jump, and she sends an apologetic look to her professor, reaching to turn it off. When she sees Harry’s name, however, her heart begins to pound.

She ducks outside the classroom quickly before she answers. Y/N had been dying to hear from Jeff on Harry’s recovery, but now that the call was actually coming, she worries that the call isn’t just for an update.

“Jeff?” She asks, assuming the coach is on the other line. “Is everything alright?”

“Uh—” It takes just one syllable for Y/N’s heart to stop. “It’s Harry, not Jeff.”

Y/N walks further away from her classroom, glancing around to see if she’s alone. “It’s good to hear your voice.” Y/N murmurs. “How—how are you feeling?”

A dry chuckle echoes through the phone. “Like shit, but that’s to be expected. Jeff told me I have a fractured rib?”

“And a fractured hand, and a mild concussion.” Y/N bites her lip. “Your nose wasn’t broken, though, so…at least there’s that.”

“Yeah. There’s that.”

Y/N rubs her eyes as she leans against the corridor wall, her gaze trained on the trees outside the window. “I—Jeff said he’d call me if there was anything wrong, so—I would’ve stopped by—”

“No, I’ve been fine. Just in pain, but that’s to be expected.” Harry assures her. Y/N can almost picture him running his (not broken) hand through his hair. “You’re busy with school. I understand.”

“Yeah, but—” Y/N lowers her voice as a group of students walks by. “My class finishes in an hour. Can I come see you tonight?”

There’s silence on the other end, and for a moment, Y/N begins to worry that she’s overstepped a boundary. She opens her mouth to apologize when Harry finally answers.

“Yeah. You can.”

…

Y/N’s medical knowledge tells her that things have to get worse before they can get better. She’s seen it time and time again, not only in cases she studies, but in her life. For things to heal, they have to hurt.

And yet, when Harry opens the door to his apartment, her breath still freezes in her chest.

More bruises have settled in since she last saw him in the locker room. Dark purple stains down his skin, across his jaw, under his eye, and if Harry wasn’t wearing a black t-shirt, she knows she would see more scattered across his chest. To Y/N’s relief, however, the swelling in his face has gone down, and it’s obvious that the bandage over his stitched wound has been changed, albeit a bit clumsily. His fractured hand is held gently at his side, so as not to agitate it, but Y/N can tell that the fractured rib is bothering him as he breathes carefully.

“Hi.” Harry opens the door wider, stepping back to allow her inside. “Come on in.”

Y/N steps over the threshold, her gaze turning from Harry’s injuries to his apartment. It’s a little bigger than hers, she notices, and estimates that it’s a one bedroom with actual spaces dedicated for separate things. Although he mostly sticks to a grey colour pallet in his minimalist decorating, Y/N can pick out objects that tell her this is where Harry lives. A framed photo of him and a woman who looks just like him sits on the table next to the couch. A pair of red boxing gloves dangle off the edge of the closet door. Harry’s familiar cologne lingers in the air, mixing with the scent of a candle he has lit in the living room. Despite the grey tones, the apartment feels just as warm as Harry does.

“I like your place.” Y/N stands in the hallway awkwardly, not sure of where to go. “It’s nice.”

“Thanks.” Harry shuts the door with his good hand before gesturing for her to sit down. “You can, uh, sit on the couch if you’d like. Do you want something to drink?”

Y/N shakes her head. “No, I’m fine, thank you. But you should drink some water.”

An unbelieving laugh leaves Harry’s mouth, but he moves to the kitchen nonetheless. “Are you telling me what to do in my own home?”

“Yes. You have to be hydrated to heal.” Y/N watches as Harry fills two glasses with a water filter from the fridge, her mouth falling open slightly when Harry manages to pick up both filled glasses with his good hand. Although the sight sets off a familiar flutter in her stomach, she manages to come to her senses enough to snap her mouth shut again by the time he turns around.

Harry sets the glass down on the coffee table in front of her before gingerly sitting down on the other side of the couch. While he’s trying to mask his discomfort, Y/N can detect it easily.

“Is it your rib?” She asks, worry slipping into her voice. “Is it hurting you?”

Harry manages to give a small shrug. “’S not awful. I’ve been taking some ibuprofen for pain, like you said.”

Y/N twists her ring around her finger, the fidgeting helping to keep her centered. “I’d get you something stronger if I could, but—”

“You’ve done more than enough for me, Y/N.” Harry cuts over her with a firm look. “Don’t worry about it.”

Y/N can’t look at Harry. She can’t. If she does, she knows that all she’s going to be able to see is the bruises and bandages and braces, and she’ll start to cry. And if she starts to cry, she won’t stop, and then she’ll just be upset and crying in Harry’s living room, all because she looked at him, and that’s not what she’s going to do. She repeats the thought in her head like a mantra. That’s not what she’s going to do. That’s not what she’s going to do.

And then she looks at Harry.

Harry is already looking at her. The longer they’ve spent together, the more she’s noticed cracks in his calm façade, and in this moment, those cracks are wide open. The problem, however, is that Y/N can never decipher what exactly those cracks show her. Harry’s face, even while emotional, is unreadable. She can’t understand the feelings swirling through his green eyes any more than she can understand the flexing and unflexing of his uninjured hand. Is it a nervous tic? Is he trying to calm himself, like Y/N does when she plays with her ring? Is he trying to restrain himself from reaching over to touch her, like the night he showed up at her door? While all those questions flip through her mind, only one passes through her lips.

“Why did you do it, Harry?” She asks, voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking any louder will shatter the space between them.

Harry takes a long sip of water like he’s stalling for an answer, trying to find anything worth saying. “I needed the money, Y/N. And I couldn’t—getting the shit beat out of me by Bowers was better than forfeiting to him. I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t give him the satisfaction.”

“That—” Y/N sucks in a breath, trying to remind her lungs to move the air in and out of her body. “That is…ridiculously idiotic, and prideful, and stupid, and a million other things, but that’s not what I meant.” She steels herself before meeting Harry’s eyes again, willing herself to sound less like a child and more like a woman. “I was asking why you left me that morning, after…after you stayed the night.”

For the first time since she arrived, it’s Harry’s eyes that are unable to meet hers. He drops his gaze to his injured hand, cradling it in his lap, and Y/N takes his silence as a signal for her to continue.

“You just—I told you it was fine for you to stay. And then the next morning you were gone, and your note…” Y/N can’t help but scoff. “‘Thanks again for the help’? Really? That’s all you had to say to me?”

Harry clears his throat as his good hand begins to tap against his thigh. “It’s not all I had to say, I just—I couldn’t say everything in a note.”

“Why did you even have to leave a note?” Y/N asks incredulously. “That’s the whole point, Harry! You left, didn’t call me, or tell me that you were alright, and then the next time I saw you, you were getting beat half to death. That’s not…fair.”

At that word, Harry’s eyes widen, and his face contorts into an expression Y/N can finally read: disbelief. “Fair?” He repeats, accent thick. “It’s not fair? Nothing in life is fair, Y/N. I didn’t call you because I’m not yours, and you’re not mine. I let myself pretend a bit that night, while I was drunk, but I shouldn’t have. If there’s anything that wasn’t fair, anything I have to apologize for, it’s that.”

The tears come then, pricking her eyes with an irritating heat as she drops her gaze into her lap. “So you—you showed up at my apartment in the middle of the night, bleeding and injured and drunk, and you spend the night so I can make sure you’re safe, and the only thing you think you have to apologize for is—is pretending?” Y/N shakes her head. “What does that even mean?”

“It means I shouldn’t even have been there in the first place. And after I showed up, I should’ve been more careful. More in control.” Harry stares down at his hands again, not to avoid her gaze, but to think about what they did that night. “I shouldn’t have talked to you like I did. I shouldn’t have asked questions. I shouldn’t have touched you. I shouldn’t have crossed all the lines I set for myself months ago. But I did, and I’m sorry.”

“I’m not sorry.” Y/N wraps her arms around herself tightly, and although the force against her is comforting, she’d prefer it if the arms weren’t hers. “I’d rather you come to me for help than stumble home in the dark, and I…” A chill runs through her, and she rubs her arms a bit to keep warm. Being away from Harry and his fire takes its toll. “I didn’t mind you asking questions, or touching me. I liked it. I thought I made that obvious.”

Harry’s face flicks back to the expression that she’s unable to read. “Nevertheless—”

“Do you honestly think you’re the only one who set lines and boundaries?” Y/N turns her gaze back to Harry, taking in the closed off posture he displays. She hates it almost as much as she hates her own guarded appearance. “I did, too, but the more we talked, the more I started to waver. The boundaries were out the window the moment you stepped into my apartment, Harry. And we can go back and forth and debate who crossed what line first, but the truth is, we both knew exactly what we were doing, so don’t—” Y/N gestures at him, how he’s turned his body away from her. “Don’t sit there and act like you’re the only one to blame when I took every step with you.”

Her final words are followed by silence and all the sounds that fill it. The ticking of the clock on the wall, the dripping of the kitchen sink, the laboured sound of Harry’s shallow breathing, the pounding of Y/N’s own heart. She focuses on each individual sound, each one an ode to whatever it is that’s been hanging between them since the night they met, until Harry finally responds in a low and controlled voice.

“I didn’t think that you…wanted me like that.” He begins slowly, his body finally turning to look at Y/N straight on. She can see the strain on his face, and how difficult this movement is for him, but he doesn’t stop until he can meet her eyes.

The sight of his green irises takes all the fight out of her.

“How could you not realize that?” Y/N crosses her legs underneath her, placing her palms flat against her thighs. If she wants to have an open conversation, she thinks, then she needs to be open.

“Because you’re you. And I’m…” Harry’s head turns just for a moment as he gathers his thoughts. “I told you last week. You’re a healer, in every sense of the word, and I’m the complete opposite.”

“And I told you,” Y/N says stubbornly. “That I don’t buy that for a minute. I meant it when I said I wasn’t afraid of you. And for once, you were being honest, and I thought that we were going to move forward together.”

A sharp laugh falls from Harry’s lips, followed by a wince as his good hand rubs gently over his ribs. “Honest? Do you have any idea of how much I managed to hold back that night? I was half pissed, sitting on your couch, feeling you touch me, while things I had never said out loud before were coming out of my mouth, and I still didn’t tell you the worst of it.” Harry drags his hand through his hair roughly. “I don’t know, maybe I should’ve. Maybe you would’ve left by now, and saved yourself the trouble.”

“Stop it!” Y/N takes his hand, weaving their fingers together like she did when he was at her apartment. “You keep—it’s like you want to create this narrative where I’m good and you’re bad. That’s not true!” She presses her other hand over his. “We’re both here. We both ended up in the same place.”

“But what about after?” Harry’s voice is tight as his gaze settles on their locked hands. “The difference between us is that you have a life outside of that gym that’s waiting for you. But the gym is my life. Boxing is my life. I don’t have any other career to hold out for, Y/N. There’s nothing for me except boxing, and there’s everything for you.”

“What about me?” Y/N brings Harry’s fingers to her lips, pressing small kisses to the tips like he had done for her. “You could have boxing and me. If you were just honest with me, if you opened up completely, I’d do the same.”

Harry exhales slowly, closing his eyes at the feeling of your lips dancing over his hand. “It doesn’t work like that, Y/N. I wish it did, but it doesn’t.”

“Who decides if it works like that?”

The corner of Harry’s lip twitches, and Y/N knows he’s remembering one of the first conversations they had, when he asked who decided what he needed to know. Y/N wonders if that was the first line that was crossed.

“I do.” Harry says after a moment. “I decide.”

…

With how little she knows about Harry, Y/N would’ve expected forgetting him to be easier.

She can count on one hand the number of personal facts that she knows about him, with at least three of them involve his boxing, and yet…when she’s home in the evenings, her schoolwork done, her mind free to roam, it’s always Harry’s face that she sees.

Y/N had known that Harry’s first night back would be hard. After six weeks of being away from the ring, recovering from his injuries, Harry’s return to the ring would be the first time she’s seen him since he got hurt. Patrick had forewarned her about him coming back two weeks ago, and although he mentioned it like an update, Y/N knows he was saying it to caution her. She had assured him that Harry’s return had no personal meaning to her, and no affect on her, but as she makes her way to the locker rooms after the match, her nerves are as high strung as they’ve ever been.

The match between Harry and an unexperienced boxer named Jackson ends within minutes, with Harry the unsurprising victor, but the match had only been a small source of her anxiety. As she set Jackson’s nose (Harry seems to be back to his old patterns), her mind was on one thing and one thing only.

Compared to the last time she saw Harry’s locker room, the place looks like a paradise. The floors are stained with sweat instead of blood. The brown stains in the sink are only from rust. And the blood that’s splattered on Harry’s forehead isn’t his own.

“You’re getting quicker, Doc.” Jeff comments in lieu of a hello. “Harry hasn’t even had time to shower yet.”

Y/N glances at the sweaty boxer sitting on the bench, who is currently preoccupied with the incredibly difficult task of unwrapping his hands. “I’ve had more practice, I suppose.”

Taking her seat next to Harry, she opens her case and slips on a pair of disposable gloves. Jeff and Patrick stand in the corner, discussing Harry’s return to the ring, as Y/N focuses on the work that she’s here to do.

“You have a bruise on your jaw, but that’s about it.” Y/N touches his chin gently, tilting his head to a different angle. “How do you feel?”

“Fine.” Harry says shortly, giving a quick nod of his head. “Yeah, I feel fine. It felt good to be out there again.”

Y/N’s eyes flicker to the new scar on his forehead before turning her attention to his hands. “Did you wrap your right hand tighter tonight?”

“I did.” Harry nods again. “And I’ve been using the brace at home, like you told me to.”

“Good.” After a quick check, Y/N moves to his abdomen, pressing carefully. “Have you been having any difficulties breathing?”

Harry shakes his head. “No, it’s much better. It only hurts if I stretch a lot, and only for a second.”

“Just some residual bruising, probably.” Y/N bites her lip as her fingers brush over his tattoos. “It’s to be expected.”

Harry’s gaze finally catches her own, as unreadable and cavernous as ever, and Y/N clears her throat as she pulls her hands away. “I think you’re all good. Jackson barely touched you tonight.”

“I wanted to give him someone easy to ease him back into the ring.” Patrick joins the conversation. “I need to build my champion back up.”

Irritation flickers across Harry’s face for a brief moment. Y/N can tell that he doesn’t like the idea of being eased into something.

“We appreciate it, Patrick.” Jeff claps a hand over the gym owner’s shoulder. “Why don’t we go discuss next week in your office?”

Patrick glances at Y/N, who’s busying herself with rooting around in her medical kit. “Yeah. Alright.” He says after a moment. “Are you two good here?”

Y/N nods, not lifting her head to watch the two men leave the locker room. She keeps her eyes glued to anything but Harry as she stands, snapping off her gloves and tossing them in the trash.

“Well, you’re good to go.” She says after a moment. “I’ll, um, I’ll see you next week.”

“Wait.” Harry catches her arm when she reaches for the kit. “Y/N, wait, I—just wait.”

The familiar burn of Harry touching her courses through her arm, and Y/N bites her lip to keep the sigh of relief from slipping out of her. “What?”

“Look at me.” Harry murmurs, his voice lower than normal. “Please look at me.”

Y/N finally raises her head, looking Harry in the eyes again. She can tell he’s searching for something in her stare, but she’s not sure what. If she knew, she’d give it to him in a heartbeat. Or maybe she’d withhold it, she muses, so that he’d keep searching, his arm on hers.

“What?” She asks after a moment, Harry still looking up at her. “What? What is it?”

“I…” Harry clears his throat as his hand drops slightly, his grip falling from her forearm to her wrist. “Did you watch the match?”

Y/N nods, hoping her disappointment at the innocence of his question isn’t too apparent on her face. “I did. I always do.”

“I know, but I wasn’t sure if…” Harry’s gaze flickers to his hand on your wrist. “I wasn’t sure if you’d want to.”

“It’s my job.” Y/N tries to sound professional, tries to reinstate the boundaries that they so carelessly broke, but there’s nothing professional about the way Harry is threading his fingers through hers as he pulls her back down to the bench.

“I missed you.” He says quietly, his thumb moving over the back of her knuckles. “I wanted to call, but I didn’t want to…I wanted you to move on.”

“Is that why you’re holding my hand?” Y/N raises an eyebrow, but she doesn’t pull away.

Harry tugs his bottom lip between his teeth. “Holding your hand is more for myself right now.”

“You can’t do that, Harry.” Y/N’s voice grows tighter as she wills herself to pull her hand away. “You can’t just—you can’t say things like that. Not after what you said before.”

“I know—”

“No, you don’t.” Y/N finally pulls her hand away, grabbing her medical kit before taking a step back from him. Harry watches her movements with disappointed eyes. “You don’t know. You don’t want to give us a chance? You don’t want to open yourself up to me? Then fine. Don’t. But don’t expect me to do anything more than my job. Is that understood?”

Harry’s mouth presses into a tight line. “Understood.”

…

It’s four A.M. when Harry knocks on Y/N’s door two weeks later.

Y/N, like most people at this time of the very early morning, is in bed when she hears the frantic knocking on her front door. She’s been asleep for less than two hours, having only made it back home from that night’s match at two A.M. (Harry had dislocated his opponent’s shoulder, as well as split the skin of his forehead, and it took her some time to clean them up), and almost doesn’t get up. Her neighbours have no problem with making as much noise as they see fit at any time of the day, and she assumes it’s one of their drunk friends trying to find a place to stay overnight. Thinking she’ll just wait for them to go away, Y/N pulls her comforter up to her chin tightly.

And then the person knocks again. And again. And again.

Once it’s clear that she won’t be getting any sleep until she deals with whoever is pounding on her front door, Y/N angrily pulls herself out from under her covers, throwing a hoodie over her tank top to cover herself. She grumbles to herself as she walks from her bed to her front door, ready to curse out whoever it is that gets so drunk that they can’t remember which apartment their friends live in.

And then she sees Harry.

He looks more or less the same as he did when Y/N left him at the gym two hours ago, save for the black eye that’s darkened in her absence. His curls are wild, falling carelessly over his shoulders to dust the top of his long jacket. He’s dressed in casual street clothes, covering up the tattoos that Y/N’s gotten so used to seeing every week. His expression, like always, is unreadable, but when Y/N meets Harry’s eyes after he looks her up and down, she can define one thing: longing.

Then again, she may just be imagining that as a symptom of sleep deprivation.

“Harry, what are you doing here?” Y/N demands, opening her door a little wider once she realizes that he’s not a stranger. “It’s four in the morning!”

“I know. I’m sorry.” Harry glances over her shoulder, as if he’s checking to make sure she’s alone. “Can I come in?”

Y/N’s mouth drops open in confusion, but she still takes a step back from the door. Where else is he supposed to go at this time of night? “I—yeah. Alright.”

Harry walks into her apartment slowly, his eyes scanning her living space like he’s seeing it for the first time. Y/N thinks that maybe he doesn’t remember much about it from when he was last here, seeing he had been drunk and in pain at the time. Still, she doesn’t appreciate how he seems to be evaluating how she lives, especially when he smirks as he spots the teddy bear on her bed that she had hidden when he was last there.

“Did I wake you?” Harry asks slowly, as if the idea that Y/N had been sleeping had just occurred to him.

“It’s four in the morning.” Y/N repeats in a deadpan voice. “Yes. You woke me, and you better have a damn good reason for it.” Her eyes scan over his body again, in case there’s an injury from the fight that she didn’t notice before. Or a stab wound. Honestly, with Harry, she feels like there are any number of things that he could show up at her door to ask for help with.

And she knows that she’d help him. No matter what.

Harry rakes a hand through his loose hair, and Y/N wonders how his rings don’t get caught as he does it. Then she tells herself to stop looking at his rings, because if she looks at his rings, she’ll look at his hands, and if she looks at his hands—

“My dad left when I was a kid.”

Harry’s voice snaps Y/N out of her thoughts. She refocuses on him, watching as the cracks in his façade slowly open up again to reveal the nervousness behind his words.

“What?” She asks, brow furrowing in confusion. Y/N thinks that she should tell him to sit, but by the energy radiating off of Harry, she doesn’t think he’ll listen.

“My dad left when I was a kid.” Harry repeats, his voice wavering for just a second. He clears his throat before continuing. “I was around seven when he ran off, and then it was just my mum, my sister, and I. My mum did her best to take care of us herself, but it—it was hard. We never really had much, and what we did have, she spent on my sister and I, to make sure that we were alright.”

“Harry, I don’t understand.” Y/N reaches for him hesitantly, but pauses before her fingers actually make contact with his jacket. “Why are you telling me this?”

Harry licks his lips once, and Y/N watches as he flexes and unflexes his right hand. “I’m trying to…to be open. To be honest.”

A beat passes between them before Y/N comprehends his words. “You—what?”

“You said I had to be honest with you.” Harry’s teeth worry his bottom lip, chewing it for a moment before he continues. “And I-I want to try it. I want to make this work—make us work. I’ve been thinking about it for the last few weeks, but tonight, when you were helping me after the match, I just—” The words are spilling out of him faster than they ever have before, like a dam has burst, and Harry is getting washed away in the flood. And taking Y/N with him. “I wanted to kiss you. I almost did, but that wouldn’t be right of me, because you told me what you wanted, and what you needed, so I went home, but I couldn’t stop thinking about you, and missing you, and wanting you, because I want you so bad, Y/N—”

“Harry.” Y/N touches his shoulder this time, rubbing her hand against him in soothing circles. “Take a deep breath, yeah? Slow down. How about we sit down on the couch, and I’ll get us a drink, and then we’ll talk, okay?”

Harry’s eyes soften at the suggestion, and colour rushes to his cheeks, flushing his pale skin to a light pink. “Yeah.” He mumbles, his hands rubbing over the sleeves of his jacket. “I want that.”

The way he says, “I want that,” such a simple phrase, causes Y/N’s heart to thump in her chest. There’s something so sincere in his tone, but Y/N doesn’t want to let herself hope. She needs to hear everything he has to say before she lets herself be that foolish.

Y/N walks to her tiny kitchen, pulling out two glasses and filling them halfway with whiskey and ice. The whiskey had been a gift from that year’s secret Santa gift exchange in the nursing program, and Y/N had yet to open it, as she doesn’t have much of a taste for sipping liquors. However, tonight seems to call for something stronger than regular beer.

When Y/N returns to Harry, he’s stripped off his long jacket, but his patterned shirt doesn’t seem to be warm enough to stop him from shivering. Y/N hands the drink to him, frowning as she touches his arm.

“Are you cold?” She asks in concern, despite his skin feeling as warm to her touch as it usually is. “I can get you a sweater…”

Harry shakes his head once, taking a long sip of the whiskey. “No, just—nervous, I suppose.”

Y/N nods softly, pulling her feet under her to sit cross-legged on the couch. She wants to watch Harry straight on as he speaks. “Finish what you were saying earlier.” She murmurs. “If…you can.”

“Can’t remember how far into my speech I got.” Harry laughs once, short and anxious, his hand tugging on his hair again. “I was rehearsing it on my walk over, but I blanked the moment you opened the door.”

“There was something about…” Y/N wraps her hands around her full glass. “Needing me?”

Harry’s cheeks pinken again. “Right. Yeah. That’s quite…new for me. I’ve never needed someone before in a—in the way that I need you. I have my mum and sister, and Jeff, but you…you’re different.” He busies himself with another sip of his drink. “It’s like…it’s so confusing, Y/N. I know I shouldn’t. I’ve had that talk with myself countless times, and with you, and I’ve told myself that you’re so much better off without me, but I just can’t make myself let you go.”

Y/N purses her lips, her eyes dropping to her lap as she answers in a careful and controlled voice. “I feel the same. I haven’t stopped thinking about you in weeks. I don’t think I’m capable of it, really. You’re—you’re under my skin. And it’s new, and strange, and uncomfortable, but only when I’m away from you. When I’m with you, it feels as easy as breathing.”

Harry rubs his lips, and Y /N can tell that he’s still processing what she said, which she doesn’t blame him for. When he continues with his story, instead of commenting on her response, she feels a sense of relief. He’s not retreating back into the familiarity of being guarded. Not yet. “So…so my dad left. And Mum tried, but we weren’t in a super good place. Gemma wanted to go to college, so she took out loans, and my mum remortgaged the house, and…all the bills piled up at once. And I didn’t even know until we were about to lose the house. I found her crying one day, my mum…” Harry’s eyes get a far away look in them. “She said she…felt like she failed us, which is ridiculous, because she’s—she’s just the best,” A smile flickers on Harry’s face for a brief moment. “You’d like her.” He takes another sip of whiskey before continuing. “Well, I had just graduated high school, and I didn’t really have any…plans. College didn’t seem that important at the moment, so I went to work. I had to take care of her, you know?” Harry fiddles with a ring on his finger. “I was the man of the house. I had to take care of her. So I went to work, and I boxed a bit in my free time, nothing serious, but it still wasn’t quite enough. And I had some friends who had come to America to work, and I knew that there were…easier ways to make money here. And I could make a lot of money fast, and send it back home, and make sure that everything was okay. So…that’s what I did.”

“I remember. Patrick told me.” Y/N bites her lip, tapping her fingers against her glass. “He said that he sent you away at first.”

“He did. It pissed me off.” Irritation flickers through Harry’s eyes. “I’d come so far, only to be turned down because I didn’t have as much muscle as the other fighters, when I knew I could fight three times as good. But I couldn’t just go home, so I trained. I fought at some other gyms while training, but none of them paid as much as Patrick’s. Boxing there…I have enough money to send home to Mum while living here. It’s high risk, but it’s high reward.”

Y/N finally takes a sip of her whiskey, trying her best to hide the grimace that crawls onto her features. “Do you really think you’re going to box for the rest of your life?”

“I do.” Harry answers immediately. “I’m no good at anything else. I’ll box until my body gives out, and after that I’ll train others, if I can. Either way…this is my life. This is as far as I go, really. And you…”

“I still have more school ahead of me.” Y/N runs her finger over the rim of her glass as she replies. “But I’m not—I said it before. You want to paint me as good, when we both ended up at that gym. I needed the money too.”

Harry shifts on the couch, repositioning himself to look at her better. “I was open with you. I…shared. Will you share with me, now?”

Y/N hesitates, but knows she can’t say no. “Share what?”

It takes Harry a moment to settle on a question. “You had clothes from an ex.” He says finally. “What happened with them?”

Y/N sighs, leaning her head against the back of the couch. “His name was Parker. We met in high school. We started dating in our junior year, and continued dating until last year. He goes to school back east, at Stanford. We…I was in love with him. Very in love with him.” Y/N glances at Harry, watching how his jaw tenses as she says that. “And, um, it didn’t work out. Well, at first, actually, it did. Kind of. He proposed to me about eighteen months ago, and I said yes.” Y/N looks down at her left ring finger, the only finger on her hands that has no ring tan line. “And then he started talking about me transferring to Stanford, leaving NYU, so I could be with him, and then that conversation changed to me dropping out altogether, so I could plan the wedding, get married, have kids, and just—just be what he wanted.” Her voice cracks in a mixture of hurt and anger, and she knows both emotions are apparent in her eyes when she meets Harry’s gaze. “He wanted a wife. He didn’t want me. So I sent back the ring about six months before I met you, and I haven’t heard from him since. The clothes are just…they’re left over from when he came to visit me. I know I should get rid of them, but it’s…hard, you know? To let go of someone…”

“I know.” Harry twists one of his rings around his finger, the same one that he always fidgets with, a plain silver band. “This is my dad’s wedding ring. I found it in my mum’s room before I moved to New York. I didn’t know she still had it, or why she still had it, and I don’t know why I took it, but I just looked at it and…felt like I needed it.”

Y/N sets down her drink before taking Harry’s hand in her own, rubbing her thumb over the band. “He’s your dad. It’s alright.”

Harry stares at their intertwined hands, and his voice is thick when he replies. “I’ve never told anyone that. About the ring, or my dad leaving. I never really talk about it.”

“I’m glad you told me.” Y/N keeps her voice soft as she moves closer to him. “I meant it when I said I wanted to know you. That means the bad as well as the good.”

“I know you say that now, but—but no one stays forever, Y/N.” Harry’s voice drops impossibly low. “Everyone leaves eventually. You will, too, once you see what I’m like.”

“I don’t care. I really don’t.” Y/N shakes her head fiercely. “I’ve seen what you’re like. I’ve seen you happy and angry and irritated and guarded, and I want it all. Do you know how long I’ve waited to feel this way about someone?” She plays with his fingers as she speaks, adoring the familiar warmth that she feels in his skin. “It was never like this with Parker.”

“You said you didn’t want a protector. And all I want to do is protect you.” Harry brings Y/N’s hand to his lips, kissing the inside of her wrist gently. “I don’t want to force something that you don’t want—”

“It’s different if we’re—if you and I—” Y/N flushes as she watches him kiss along her wrist and hand. “I’ll be your protector as much as you’ll be mine. We’ll protect each other. We’ll be equal.”

“Y/N, you’re so much—we’ll never be—”

“We’ll be equal.” Y/N repeats firmly, unfolding her legs from beneath her. She sits up on her knees right next to Harry, cupping his cheeks with both hands. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted. Can you give that to me?”

A soft breath leaves Harry’s lips, and it washes over her in the sweetest way. “Yes.” He says sincerely.

“Good.” Y/N swallows hard as a fire starts to burn in her core. “Will you give that to me?”

“Yes.” Harry’s hands shift to her waist, pulling her impossibly closer to him until she’s straddling his lap.

Y/N rubs her thumbs along Harry’s stubbled jaw. “Do you need me?”

Harry’s green irises flicker to Y/N’s pink lips and back again. She’s starting to get better at reading his eyes, she thinks, although she’s still not as good as she’d like to be. She still can’t see exactly what’s swirling inside them, but in this moment, she thinks she has an idea of it.

“Yes.” Harry says again, his hands moving up her back. “I need you.”

Y/N presses a chaste kiss over Harry’s forehead scar, down his temple, his cheek, his jaw, delighting in every soft breath and sigh that escapes him. “Do you want me?”

Her voice is barely above a whisper when she asks, and Harry matches her tone perfectly as his fingers press into her back. “More than anything.” He breathes, tilting his head back as she kisses his neck. “I want you more than anything.”

Y/N kisses across his neck, down to his collarbones, before traveling up the other side of his face. She kisses across Harry’s jaw again, his cheek, back to the scar-free side of his forehead, planting one last kiss in the center of it before pressing her own forehead to his. “Then kiss me.” She whispers, half panting the words.

Harry’s breath is just as ragged as hers as one of his hands tangles in her sleep-mussed hair, pulling them together until their lips meet. The contrast between the softness of his lips and the roughness of his stubble delights her, and Y/N finds herself pressing closer and closer to him just to feel it more. Her arms wrap around his shoulders as she tries to get as close to him as possible. After spending so long waiting, she wants to feel him close to her. She wants to be his, in every sense of the word.

A wrecked moan falls from Y/N’s mouth as Harry’s teeth graze her lips, his tongue immediately soothing the spot after he nips at her. He repeats the action over and over, anything to hear her moan again, and Y/N has to pull away to collect herself. She’s not sure if it’s the whiskey or Harry, but her head is spinning in the best way.

Undeterred, Harry’s lips move to her neck, kissing and nipping just as much as they did before. “Is this alright?” He mutters between kisses, his hands pushing up her hoodie to get a grip on her bare skin. “I-I’ll stop if it’s—”

“Don’t you dare.” Y/N moans, throwing her head back to allow him better access. “If you stop now, I’ll never forgive you.”

“Noted.” Harry mumbles the word against her jugular, letting his teeth scrape her skin before sucking over the spot. A guttural moan slips from Y/N’s mouth as a shock runs through her, and she can feel the smirk on Harry’s lips as he licks over the mark he’s made.

The fabric of Harry’s shirt is soft to the touch when Y/N gathers it in her fists, tugging on it enough to get Harry’s attention. “Take it off.” She says in a low voice, her eyes locking with Harry’s as he pulls away from her neck. “Doctor’s orders.”

A groan rolls out from the back of Harry’s throat. “God, that’s so fucking hot.” He mutters, kissing her once more. “In a totally respectful and non-objectifying way.”

Y/N laughs into the kiss, tugging on the hem of his shirt again. “Mhmm. Just take it off, will you?”

Harry’s hands replace her own as he tugs his shirt over his head, letting it drop to the floor before attempting to kiss Y/N again. Y/N, however, has other plans, and begins to run her hands down Harry’s chest.

“I’ve wanted to do this for weeks.” She murmurs, tracing her fingers over his tattoos. “So handsome…” She scratches her nail over Harry’s butterfly tattoo, adoring how his eyelids flutter at the feeling.

“That feels so…” Harry closes his eyes completely, letting his head rest on the back of the couch to fully lose himself in Y/N’s touches. “Keep going.”

Y/N leans in and kisses his neck again, spreading the pecks all along his collar bones and shoulders while her fingers continue to trace the contours of Harry’s body. She works them over his chest, grazing over his nipples just enough to make his body jump beneath her.

“Is that…?” She begins, trailing off as she touches them again. Harry doesn’t jump as much this time, but there’s an undeniable hitch in his breath.

“Feels good.” He says thickly, his fingers digging into her back in the best way possible. “Yeah. Really good.”

Y/N nods, tweaking them one last time before she continues her exploration down his abdomen. She runs one finger lightly around his belly button, and feels the shiver that runs through Harry as she continues down the light trail of hair situated between his two vine tattoos.

“I love these.” She whispers, her fingers taking their time as they touch them. “They’re some of my favourite tattoos of yours.”

Harry’s eyes open, and the tenderness in his green eyes is unmistakable. “You have favourites?”

Y/N flushes as she nods. “I-I do. I like your cross tattoo. And your mermaid. And these…” Y/N raises one hand to touch over his collar bones again. “What does this year mean?”

“It’s my mum’s birth year.” Harry admits as one of his hands begins to play with Y/N’s hair. “I got it last year.”

Y/N knows that her eyes match the tenderness in Harry’s, and she kisses him once more before continuing to move her hand lower. She traces her finger over the buckle of his belt as her teeth tug on Harry’s lip lightly.

“Can I?” She asks gently, her breath blowing across his lips. “Please?”

Harry strokes her cheek, letting the back of his knuckles drag across her skin. Y/N leans into his touch wholeheartedly, wanting Harry to know that she’s never once been afraid of his hands and what they can do.

“Is it the Doctor’s orders?” Harry asks, his teasing tone disguising the need in his voice.

Y/N lets out a light laugh, and it’s then that she knows that she and Harry are meant to be. When two people can be so intimate together while still laughing and giggling and teasing each other…Y/N knows that’s something good, despite never having it before.

“Yes.” She works her hand over his belt, and the only sounds in the room are their laboured breathing and the gentle clinking of the metal buckle. When it’s finally free, Y/N busies herself with the button and zipper of his jeans.

“Wait.” Harry grasps her wrist carefully, stopping her before she can attempt to pull his jeans down. “I didn’t—I came here to take care of you.” He murmurs as he pushes her hands away. His own hands move to Y/N’s thighs, grasping them tightly before picking her up with ease. Y/N gasps, her hands flying to his shoulders as Harry carries her to her bed, laying her down gently on the mussed sheets.

“Let me take care of you.” He repeats the sentiment as his hands move to the hem of her hoodie, slowly and carefully removing the article of clothing, along with the tank top underneath. Y/N knows that his pace is intentional, giving her plenty of time to refuse, but stopping Harry is the last thing she wants to do.

When her top is off, the first thing Harry does is kiss her. He moves her carefully as he does, so her head is supported by her pillows. Y/N doesn’t notice his hands moving from her waist until—

“Why don’t we just move this guy until we’re done, hm?” There’s a trace of laughter in Harry’s voice as he holds up the teddy bear. “I don’t think I’ll be able to look him in the eye after if he watches.”

Y/N clears her throat as an embarrassed flush quickly works its way up her neck. “Alright, just—here—” She takes the teddy bear from Harry, dropping it to the side of the bed. “And he has a name, you know. It’s Paddington.”

“Paddington?” Harry’s laughter is obvious now, and he buries his head in her neck as he attempts to stifle it. “That is so fucking adorable—”

“Can you not laugh at my teddy bear when you’re about to fuck me?” Y/N asks, voice exasperated and strained.

Harry’s laughter dies off as he pulls his face back up, his eyes darker than they were a minute ago. “I’m about to fuck you, am I?”

Y/N clears her throat, and as Harry’s gaze finally sweeps down her body, she gets the overwhelming urge to cross her arms and cover her exposed self. “You are. At least, you were, until you got distracted.”

“I’m not distracted.” Harry traces a single finger down Y/N’s sternum, and Y/N can’t hold back the choked gasp in her throat.

“I’m completely focused.” Harry adds on, and before Y/N can gather herself enough to give a retort, his mouth is on her breast.

With her hands immediately tangling in Harry’s long curls, Y/N lets out another whine in sync with her tugging. “Harry—!”

Although Y/N doesn’t have her eyes on the boxer, she can feel the smirk that’s on his face, and just knows that he’s adoring the way that she’s reacting to him. While there’s a small part of Y/N that’s irritated at his smugness, there’s a bigger part of her telling her to react more. Moan more. Pull his hair more. Anything to make him happy.

Y/N wants to make him happy.

While his mouth works over one breast, his hand works over the other. Harry’s ring covered fingers tweak her nipple, tugging and twisting just enough to work more whimpers out of her. When his teeth graze one nipple at the same time that he tugs on the other, Y/N drags the nails of one hand down Harry’s warm back, and it quickly becomes her turn to delight in the whine that leaves his mouth.

It almost becomes a competition then, with both of them working to see who can make the other moan more. Harry switches his mouth to Y/N’s other breast while Y/N alternates between tugging on his hair and pushing her hand down the waistband of his jeans, her fingers rubbing over his defined hip bones. The competition, however, yields no winners, and is quickly forgotten in the pursuit of pulling the other closer, touching them harder, dragging them deeper into the safe space they’ve created on Y/N’s bed.

When Harry lets Y/N’s nipple fall out of his mouth, his lips are bright red, shining with saliva almost as much as his eyes are shining with lust. Y/N quickly pulls him up to kiss her, and fingers one of his curls as she takes a shaking breath.

“I’ve never felt so good from just…” Her voice wavers for a moment, and a new wave of blush heats her cheeks. “Just…you know.”

Harry brushes a thumb over her cheekbone, delighting in the heat he feels beneath his fingers. “Yeah?” His accent is thick. “Then you’re going to love what I’m going to do next.”

Y/N knows exactly what Harry means, but a surprised gasp still leaves her as he quickly pulls himself down her body, situating himself easily between her legs. Within a moment, her pajama shorts are tossed to the side, and Harry is directing her movements.

“Bend your knees for me, love, just—yeah. Just like that. And spread them wider.” He coaxes her gently, helping to guide her body into the position he wants. The pleasure on his face at the sight of Y/N’s uncovered cunt is evident as he inhales deeply, laying his stubbled cheek onto one of her thighs as he just stares at her.

Y/N’s chest heaves as she glances down at the sight. Harry hasn’t even touched her core, and yet she’s never been more turned on in her entire life. Something about the look in his eyes as he stares at her bare cunt drives her insane, and Y/N knows that she’ll never experience this with anyone else. No one else will ever compare to Harry, and she doesn’t want them to. She just wants him.

Harry’s breath is hot on her wet core when he lets out a sigh, his hands continuously rubbing her thighs, up to her pelvis, and back down again. “Don’t even want to touch you.” He murmurs. “Just want to keep staring…”

“That—that’s sweet, but—” Y/N swallows hard as she shifts on the bed. “I need you to touch me, Harry. I need it.”

“Yeah?” Harry cocks an eyebrow at her, that smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth again. “Good. I need it, too.”

And then his mouth is on her, and Y/N loses herself completely.

It’s not even that Harry is so wonderfully talented at cunnilingus that drives Y/N insane—although, honestly, that’s definitely a significant factor. No, the thing that makes Y/N fall apart is how obvious it is that Harry loves doing it.

From the moment Harry’s tongue flicks over her clit, he’s making as many sounds as she is. Moans and whimpers fall out of his mouth in abundance while his lips and tongue work Y/N over, and while most of it is incoherent sounds of pleasure, Y/N can decipher the occasional phrase.

“Taste so fucking good—”

“Fuck, Y/N—”

“So bloody sweet—”

“Tug on my hair harder—”

Y/N does as he requests, gripping his curls by the roots as she pulls harder in response to his tongue dipping into her entrance. It briefly occurs to her that Harry may have a pain kink, which explains a lot about him and his career choice, she thinks, but then Harry’s fingers begin to aid his mouth, and Y/N can’t think at all.

While one of his hands pumps two fingers in and out of Y/N slowly, and while his mouth is still firmly suctioned over her clit, Harry’s other hand moves up to her pelvis, pressing down on top of it to keep her in place. “You’re a squirmer, aren’t you?” Harry mutters, and the flat of his tongue licks over her clit just to prove the point.

Y/N’s body jumps again as another guttural moan leaves her lips. “Harry, I—fuck—”

Harry hums against her. “I know. You’re alright, love. You can let go.”

And when Harry sucks on her clit again, crooking his fingers inside of her, she does as he says.

Incoherent whimpers and whines fall from Y/N’s mouth as she squirms on the bed, held only in place by Harry’s firm hand on her tummy. Something in the pressure is comforting, and it’s the only thing that keeps her grounded to her bed as waves of pleasure roll over her.

Harry’s mouth moves from her clit to her thigh, pressing gentle kisses along the tender skin, which is red from his stubble scraping against it. Although his fingers have stilled inside her, he doesn’t pull them out just yet.

“I can feel you squeezing me.” Harry’s eyes flicker between Y/N’s soaked cunt to her heaving chest. “’S nice.”

Another flood of warmth passes through Y/N’s core when he says that, and she pants out what’s meant to be a laugh, but instead turns into a whimper. “Fuck, H…”

Harry’s eyes brighten from between her thighs as he presses another kiss to her thigh. “You’ve never called me that before.” He comments quietly. “I like it.”

“We’ve never done a lot of this before.” Y/N squirms again, “This is all new.”

“It’ll take some time to get used to it.” Harry presses on her tummy again, a reminder to keep still as he slowly pulls his fingers out of her. Y/N bites her lip to hold back the whine that threatens to leave her mouth, and watches with heavy eyelids as Harry sucks his own fingers into his mouth.

Despite the trembling from her orgasm, Y/N manages to sit up on her elbows to look at Harry between her legs. He seems quite content there, his black eye a stark contrast against the red of his cheeks and lips, one hand holding her as the other runs over his own lips. Y/N snaps a picture in her mind to remember later on, when Harry has someone else’s blood dripping from his fingertips. A reminder that this man lives within the fighter, underneath every wall and safeguard that he had to build to be able to protect and provide for his family.

Y/N reaches down and cups Harry’s cheek in her hand. Although there’s a tenderness growing in the pit of her stomach, the need is still there alongside it. “Lay down for me.” She murmurs, gently grazing her fingers along the edge of his black eye.

Harry doesn’t speak as he moves, and the room falls quiet again, a brief break between the symphony of pleasure that they composed only a moment earlier. He takes his place on the pillows next to Y/N, and she kisses him again before moving down the bed.

Y/N sits on her knees by his side, allowing her fingers to run over his vine tattoos and down his pelvic bones. She loves the way Harry’s breath flutters, how it hitches when she uses her nails, and delights in how a quiet moan leaves his lips when she wraps her hand around his warm cock.

He’s already so hard from eating her out, with precum dripping from his flushed tip. Y/N pumps him a few times with her hand, adjusting to his size and weight before leaning her head down and licking over his slit.

“Christ—” The word falls out of Harry’s mouth involuntarily, and his cheeks redden more at the outburst. Y/N rubs his tummy with her free hand, assuring him that it’s alright without actually saying the words.

While one of Harry’s hands is running through his own curls, he brings the other down to play with Y/N’s hair, helping to guide her mouth as she takes him more and more. Her tongue runs up and down his length, tracing the veins that throb beneath his skin, and Y/N loves how Harry tugs on her hair harder when she does it.

Y/N pulls up from his cock to give her jaw a break, continuing to pump him as she looks up with him. His arm is thrown over his eyes now, and his chest is rising and falling in rapid succession. Y/N can tell he’s close, so she slows down her movements until her hand is just lazily pumping him.

Sensing the change in momentum (and his orgasm slipping away), Harry removes his arm, looking down at Y/N with lustful eyes. “Why’d you stop?” He asks, his voice cracking in the middle of the question that he knows the answer to.

“Because I want you.” Y/N presses one last kiss to the top of his cock before letting go. She crawls up the bed again and reaches over to her bedside table, opening the drawer and pulling out a condom. Her fingers pause over the lube, remembering the last time that she had used it with Harry, and she can’t help the smile that flickers over her face as she holds up the bottle. “Remember this?”

Harry laughs breathlessly as he rubs his eyes. “Bloody hell, don’t remind me. I was a fucking mess that night.”

“A bit, but I didn’t mind.” Y/N sets the lube back in the drawer before shutting it. “That was the night that I knew I wanted you.”

“Was it?” Harry raises an eyebrow, the teasing grin back on his face as pushes his sweaty curls out of his face. “Took you that long, hm?”

Y/N rolls her eyes as she rips the condom packaging with her teeth, retrieving the latex disc from inside. She pumps Harry once more before sliding the condom on, making sure that it’s positioned correctly. “Shut up.”

“Are you really telling me to shut up while you’ve got your hand on my cock?” Harry laugh again, and while Y/N’s heart flutters at the sound, she does her best to keep her face from showing it.

“I am.” Y/N throws her leg over him, straddling his lower stomach as she leans down to kiss him. The teasing tone between them fades into one of lust and affection and need as Harry’s lips move against hers, and they’re both panting when Y/N pulls away to press her forehead against his.

“Are you comfortable like this?” She asks, worry seeping into her tone. “I know your ribs are still bothering you a bit, so I figured that this would be—”

Harry cuts her off with another kiss, this one wilder and more passionate than the last. “I’m fine, love. You don’t need to worry about me.” He says, despite the flutter in his stomach at the idea of Y/N worrying about him.

“I always worry, H.” Y/N reaches underneath to grip his cock, rubbing the tip of it over her slit as she balances herself with one hand on his pelvis. Harry’s hands grip her hips to give her more stability. “You’re so—fuck—reckless that it drives me—” Y/N gasps loudly as she begins to sink down on Harry’s cock. “Insane.”

Harry’s first instinct at the feeling of Y/N’s warm walls hugging his cock is to throw his head back, close his eyes, and let the pleasure take over. However, he uses every ounce of willpower he has to do the opposite, and thanks God that he does, because he gets to see Y/N take his cock for the first time.

Y/N’s entire body is flushed, and she knows that the heat practically rolling off of her is because of Harry. Everything that she’s feeling, from the fullness in her core that extends to her stomach, to the fluttering of her body, to the overwhelming sense of something just being right, is all because of Harry.

After giving herself a moment to adjust to his size, Y/N begins to move. Harry helps guide her hips up and down slowly, and she decides from the first moment that she’s going to take her time building up her speed. She wants this to last.

Y/N knows that Harry has the capacity to fuck her. She knows that, if she asked, he’d flip her over and bend her over the edge of the bed and fuck her as fast as he possibly could until she screamed his name. But, as much as the thought intrigues her, that’s not what she wants right now. There will be time for fucking later, she thinks. There will be time for loud moans and teeth clicking together and bruises in the shape of a lover’s hand left on thighs and necks. Right now, all she wants is to feel every inch of Harry inside of her, and to listen to his quiet yet desperate moans as she gradually increases her pace.

With one of his hands still guiding her hips, Harry gently grips the back of Y/N’s neck, pulling her chest down to press against his. Their lips find each other quickly, kissing and nipping as Y/N feels herself beginning to fall apart.

“H.” She breathes against his lips. “I’m so close…” A choked moan stumbles out of her mouth as Harry’s hand shifts from her neck to her clit, rubbing small circles with two nimble fingers.

“I can feel it.” Harry’s breath is hot on her ear as he presses open mouthed kisses to her neck. “Can feel you squeezing me, love…being so good for me…”

Y/N bites her lip hard, almost enough to draw blood as the movement of her hips begins to stutter. “I-I want you to—Harry—” she digs her nails into his shoulder when Harry’s fingers speed up, and within a moment, another orgasm is sending shockwaves through her body.

Harry can tell the moment it happens, and a grunt leaves his throat as he begins to lift his hips to meet her movements. “That’s a good girl, love—breathe through it, that’s it…” Harry buries his face into Y/N’s neck, inhaling the scent of her perfume and sweat that’s more intoxicating than anything else he’s ever smelled. “Fuck, Y/N—” His words cut off in a strangled moan as her walls squeeze his sensitive member.

Although she’s barely come down from her high, Y/N takes it upon herself to guide Harry through his orgasm like he’s done for her. One of her hands moves from his marked shoulder to his hair, pushing the sweaty curls back from his eyes in a repeated motion as she murmurs in his ear. “Let go, H…feels so good…” She can feel the jerking of his hips as he finishes inside the condom, and for a split second, she wishes that there wasn’t a barrier of latex between the two of them, despite knowing that protection is mandatory.

Y/N waits until Harry’s managed to catch his breath before she carefully climbs down from him, missing the feeling of him inside her the moment she’s empty. She lays down on her rumpled sheets next to his exhausted body, and hopes that she looks just as pretty in her post-sex haze as Harry.

Now that she’s begun to touch him, she can’t stop. Y/N’s hands continue to rub tenderly over his sweat-soaked chest, feeling the thumping beat of his heart beneath her as Harry carefully removes and ties off the used condom. Although a small grumble leaves her when he gets up to throw it away, she can’t help but smile when he returns with two glasses of water in his hands.

“Here.” Harry hands her a glass before getting back on the bed, situating his naked form back into the position he was in a moment ago. “You need to hydrate. Doctor’s orders.”

Y/N lets out a breathless laugh before taking a sip of the cool liquid. “So you’re the doctor now, huh?”

“God, no. I’m not nearly as smart as you. I’m just smart enough to remember what you tell me.” Harry gulps down his own glass, setting it on the bedside table once it’s empty. His arms then move to encircle Y/N’s body, pulling their chests together so her weight lies on top of him.

Y/N doesn’t miss the small wince that the movement causes, and she sets her own glass down before moving back to her position next to him. “You need to be more careful.” She murmurs, resuming her motion of rubbing over his chest. She’s not sure why the motion is so soothing, but she doesn’t fight it, loving the feeling of Harry’s warm skin beneath her hand. “Patrick won’t forgive me if I put his best fighter out of commission.”

“No, he probably won’t.” Harry muses, settling for wrapping one arm around Y/N’s body. “He might fire you.”

“And then who will clean up your messes?” She cocks an eyebrow teasingly. “Or clean you up, when you’re a mess?”

“I’d just have to stumble my way to your apartment in the middle of the night again.” A laugh rumbles deep in Harry’s chest. “And then after you bandage me up, we can have a quick shag. It’ll be a nice routine.”

Y/N rolls her eyes. “Mhmm. Nice try.”

Harry’s laughter trails off after a moment as his fingers begin to trace shapes on Y/N’s back. “Seriously, though…” His eyes grow sober. “How do you want to…handle this?”

Y/N bites her lip. “How do you want to handle this?”

A sigh leaves Harry’s lips. “I want…you. I want you to be mine. And I don’t want to hide it, but if you feel like that’s best, then…”

“It’s just—I don’t know. It’s complicated.” Y/N’s eyes focus on the G tattoo on Harry’s shoulder. She wonders if it’s for Harry’s sister, and then wonders if Harry would ever tattoo her initial on his body. “Yeah. Complicated.”

“You’re nervous about Patrick knowing.” Harry states simply.

Y/N nods. “He specifically told me not to get involved with any boxers. He said that…no good men come there.”

Harry’s hand moves over his jaw, scratching at his stubble. “Yeah. He wasn’t wrong.”

His answer bothers Y/N, and she moves to sit up more in bed, making him look her in the eyes. “You’re a good man, Harry. I know that.”

“I’m not.” Harry shakes his head once, his voice growing rougher. “I have a lot of shit that I’m…trying to work through. I’m not that good.” When he sees how Y/N’s face shifts at his words, his tone changes. “But I’d never…that has nothing to do with you. Any of my issues, my pride, my anger, anything like that, it’s all—it’s separate from you.” He cups her cheek gently. “I’d never hurt you.”

“I know that, Harry.” Y/N repeats as she places her hand over his, weaving their fingers together. “I trust you. I just wish you’d trust yourself.”

“I trust myself more when I’m with you.” Harry admits. “I’ve never really felt…regret for what I’ve done. The ring is an equal playing field, right? But that night when you said you thought I was too harsh…”

Y/N bites her lip. “Did that bother you?”

“I was worried I scared you off.” His eyes close for a moment as he remembers. “I thought…I don’t know. I thought you already disliked me just for being a boxer, and now I’m the boxer that breaks bones, and there’s no way you’d ever want to be around me.”

“I probably shouldn’t want it.” Y/N admits. “When you phrase it like that. But I’ve told you before…you’re different when you’re with me.”

“Only with you. Only for you.” Harry’s voice grows tender as he holds her close to him. “So if you want to keep it private, I understand. I just want you to be mine.”

Y/N’s finger brushes over one of Harry’s rings. It’s a beautifully sculpted silver rose, and there’s something so wonderful to her in how Harry chooses to wear flowers on the hands that have done so much damage.

She twists the ring around his finger before pulling it off. It’s too big to fit on her ring or middle finger, so after a moment of consideration, she slips it onto her thumb. “Then I’m yours.”

Harry’s eyes darken at the sight of Y/N with his ring on her finger. “Yeah. You’re mine.”

The feeling of Harry’s ring on her finger makes Y/N feel so complete, and she wants to share it with him, so she ignores Harry’s whine of protest as she climbs out of bed to walk to her dresser. A little ceramic dish with her jewelry in it sits on top, and she sorts through the rings and bracelets before setting on something that he can wear while in the ring. She cups it in her palms before returning to bed, an excited but shy smile on her face.

“Here.” She places it in Harry’s hand. “You can put this on your chain with your cross.”

The silver caduceus looks small in Harry’s palm, and he brings it closer to his eyes to examine it. “What is it?”

“It’s a caduceus. It’s the medical symbol, the one I wear on my jacket to the ring.” Y/N explains, her cheeks reddening at her words. “It’s from Greek mythology, but doctors adopted it, and—yeah. Just something to show that…you’re mine, too.”

A small smile plays on the corner of Harry’s lips. “Will you put it on me?”

Y/N nods, and although her fingers are shaking a bit, she manages to undo the clasp on Harry’s chain, and slips the pendant on before refastening it around his neck. She settles the caduceus and cross pendants on his chest, just between his two swallow tattoos.

“It looks pretty on you.” She murmurs, her hand brushing down his abdomen. “Really nice.”

“It’ll be my good luck charm in the ring.” Harry brings her hand to his mouth, kissing over the rose ring. “I won’t take it off, as long as you don’t take my ring off. Deal?”

“Deal.” Y/N lays her head back down on Harry’s chest. “Now get some sleep. Doctor’s orders.”

A playful groan falls out of Harry’s mouth. “Is that going to be a new thing? Are you going to get me to do everything by saying it’s doctor’s orders?”

“I wouldn’t have to if you took better care of yourself.” Y/N matches his playful tone. “But we both know that you have a tendency to ignore your instincts—”

“My instincts are good!”

“Like your instinct to fight with a sprained hand was good?”

The corner of Harry’s mouth twitches. “Fine. Let’s go to sleep.”

Sunlight is beginning to spill through the curtains as Harry closes his eyes, bathing his entire face in a golden glow. His pale skin glows under the light, save for the purplish bruise that rings one of his eyes. Y/N presses a gentle kiss to the darkened area before settling herself down in Harry’s arms.

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skiyoosmi · 3 years

Text

post-break up heartaches

verse 1. in the car that used to drive us to our home

⤷ kuroo tetsurou, oikawa tooru — more characters coming soon

⤷ verse 2 | verse 3

⤷ play. never let me go by ghostly kisses, forget about us by clinton kane

commissions: open

⇢ KUROO sighs for the umpteenth time of the day. he was so fucking exhausted and his body's about to give in to sleep any moment now. work has been beating his ass; there was this newbie who kept on messing up the documents needed by the board and for the whole day, he had to be the one to fix said issues. it's not like he wasn't paid enough for that; if anything, his paycheck was one of the most beautiful things he laid his eyes on— but god, even his body has its own limits and yet...

"ya.... yer not supposed to do this anymore. y-ya left me, remember?" you slurred, index finger pointing right at his chest as he circled his arms around your waist, huffing as you practically dropped all your weight on him. here he was, suddenly given the task of having to take you home after your supposed-to-be designated driver, miya fucking atsumu, also drank his brains out with you.

"be patient. still heartbroken because of you, y'know?" kenma softly tells him despite the tipsy feeling lurking in the back of his mind, shaking his head as he looked at you, whose system finally shut down and were now dozing off in the black haired man's arms.

"..... still?" he mumbles, looking down at your figure and he feels his heart contract with pain all over again.

"you can't expect her to be fine immediately, kuroo. it was your wedding day, supposed to be the greatest day of her life and yet it became the worst one... you left her at the altar alone."

he didn't reply anything— or rather, he was unable to. because what can he say to refute the truth? nothing. instead, he proceeded to his car with you still in his hold. he places you on the passenger seat, locking the seatbelts before jogging to the driver's side.

the car ride was calm as you slept soundly with your head occasionally hitting the window lightly as it swayed from side to side. he was sure as hell that if you were sober right now, you wouldn't even have the thought of seeing him cross your mind. he just knows for sure that you despise him with your whole being... at least, that's what he thought until...

"i'm sorry, tetsu. please come back," you whimper in your seat, voice quiet but he heard it nonetheless, "tell me what i did wrong so i can fix it."

the pitiful sounds and mumbles you made struck kuroo right in the heart and which makes him pull over an empty but safe road, just a block away from your (previously shared) apartment. looking over your form, he finds himself reaching out to touch your face, caressing your cheeks as drops of tears fell down slowly on them, "you didn't do anything wrong. you were fine. you were so perfect."

you squint your eyes at him, probably wondering if this was real or just a part of your drunken imagination. nonetheless, you hiccuped, "y-you... you left me and i... i still can't even bring myself to hate you... i just wanna ask you why? i just want to understand."

he thought he also knew the reason why but every single time he thinks about it, he's only led to one conclusion: because he was a coward. no way was this any of your fault— it's definitely not your fault that right at that moment, as he stared at the mirror, wearing the black suit you chose for him, the sudden fear of commitment loomed over him. it's not like it was your fault he suddenly got scared of losing you the way his parents lost each other. but now he thinks it's ironic, because he lost you anyway.

maybe... just maybe, if he had just met you where you stood at the altar, instead of leaving you alone in it, maybe he would've been happier. maybe his days would've started more with a smile from you as you helped him fix his necktie before going to work. maybe, the working hours he spends in the shitty corporate world would've been more worth it if it meant he can come home to you at the end of the day. maybe... maybe he wouldn't have to be stuck with this lump in his throat as he wonders what could've been happening if he just chose to show up and vowed his life to you.

but he didn't.

"i realized i wasn't just ready to tie my life with anyone yet. that's all there is to it, yn."

so with a heavy feeling stuck in his chest and a quiet promise to never see you again for the sake of not hurting you further, he starts the car's engine again, ignoring the words you replied but he was sure they will haunt him for a very long time... again.

i can wait for you no matter how long it takes, tetsu, you know that.

⇢ OIKAWA gives you what seems like a guilty smile as he stands in front of you, opening his arms and gesturing you to come closer. but the stoic expression on your face takes him back to the reality that the last thing you wanted to do today was to actually fetch him from the airport. it just so happens that his three best friends were caught up with work that they had no choice but to send you, the main ex-bestfriend slash ex-girlfriend, to him.

why did you agree when you practically loathe him with your whole being? well, it was probably because you weren't the devil who would reject your friends when they were literally on their knees as they begged you and for some reason, you thought he'll look pitiful going back to his home country after five years with no one to welcome him. yeah, that's it. it's not like you're still in love with him or anything.

"my car's just around the corner," you begrudgingly walk towards the car park with him quietly following. at the moment, he knew better than to get on your nerves or else there would be war. he hates that this happened to the both of you but he can't blame anyone else but himself. because who wouldn't hate their ex-boyfriend if they suddenly broke up with them over a phone call?

tension filled the car as you both sat beside each other. perhaps, this was what other people were talking about when they say that it's impossible for exes to be friends again, to not feel any awkwardness because you were sure as hell that the word "awkward" was an understatement of your situation right now. nevertheless, your eyes couldn't help but wander to his figure as he adjusted his body, opting for a more comfortable position in the passenger's seat.

he looked more youthful and you felt bittersweet— proud that his whole aura screams of "success" which meant that gone were the days where he longed to get that winter cup trophy, nor the times when he overworked himself and put a strain on his knee which led to countless arguments with you. if anything, he looked happier and it sucks because you're not even close to feeling that way... not without him.

"i heard you've finally gotten yourself your own condominium? that's great, yn!" he exclaimed as soon as you began driving to your destination, a hope lit within him that maybe you might just respond to him. just one smile, that's all i need, he thinks.

but you remain focused on your driving, choosing to reply with a single nod and a soft "yeah..."

disappointment fills his heart as he faces the truth that your relationship has really been ruined, along with your friendship. all because he was foolish to think that he couldn't handle the physical distance between you two. realization dawns upon him that he just made that same distance worse as you pull your heart further away from him.

"... i actually bought it for the two of us, you know?" he whips his head to your direction in surprise, heart clenching as he watch you let out a sad chuckle, "i just... i thought it would be nice if we had a place to permanently stay at and for you to have a home to go to when you're at japan. but yeah... i guess things doesn't go our way sometimes, does it?"

"i'm sor—"

"it's okay. i'm fine now," you quickly reply, shaking your head but keeping your eyes on the road. he tries to ignore the tears that start to form in them because he has no right to stop them, knowing full well that he was the one who caused them in the first place.

as if on cue, you halt your vehicle in front of a familiar apartment and much to your dismay, you find yourself looking back in the past when you used to live in that same place, making wonderful memories with the chocolate haired lad with you. you clear your throat to stop the sob that desperately attempts to escape your throat, "uhm... we're here."

"oh, yeah. we're here," he numbly states, already missing you despite the mere inches of space separating the two of you. you just felt so far away and he hates it. but this was the path he chose so he gets out of your car along with his things, turning to you once more, "uhh... thanks for the ride, yn. i know you probably hate me but yeah... it's very nice of you to put that past us and i guess i just want to say sorry for hurting you... i just..."

"i don't hate you, tooru," you softly tell him, "i just don't want anything to do with you anymore. to see you this happy, without me, is like a slap in the face because i'm not. it still hurts and i'm not fine. i just hope this will be the last time we'll see each other. be safe on your trip back to argentina. welcome home."

and with that, you start the car's engine again, no longer having the energy nor the strength to hear his reply. but he wishes you did because as he watches your car drive further away from him, he can't help but wish that he can take back time so that you don't have to go to that condominium and instead, go inside the home you once shared with him.

but i'm not happy, yn. because how could i call this place my home when you're not here with me?

at that moment, unbeknownst to the two hearts that long for each other break at the same time, you finally let out the tears and cries that you've been keeping since you saw him, knowing that no matter how much you try, you'll never be as happy as you were with him— simply because he left you with a hole in your heart that no one else can fill.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu headcanons #kuroo x reader #oikawa x reader #kuroo headcanons #oikawa headcanons #haikyuu writings #haikyuu angst #kuroo tetsurou #oikawa tooru #haikyuu imagines #post break-up heartaches

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daeeeweird · 3 years

Text

Peaky Blinders: Standing In the No Man’s land

Warning: My grammar sucks and sometimes my spelling so i am sorry in advance. I hope you enjoy and please come back to read more! Have a good day! ALSO NOT PROOF READ!!!

Summary: You go with Ada to stop the small battle between Billy Kimber and the Peaky Blinders.

You were walking beside your sister wearing nothing but black as the two of you walked down the muddy roads of the city you always lived in. The two of you were on your way to save your idiot brothers from dying in a gun fight with Billy fucking Kimber.

You had warned them. Warned your brother. And yet it went through one ear and out the other. So with your sister you disobeyed your brother’s orders to stay safe and currently went into the direction of danger without a care.

“We’re related to idiots Ada” You suddenly said breaking the silence just as the two of you stepped in sync together. Your little sister couldn’t help but scoff at your words knowing full well that your words were an understatement.

Just as she was about to say something the two of you along with your nephew Charles caught sight of the group of men in suits. Instantly you knew it was Billy Kimber’s men.

Sighing you stepped closer to your sister that even though she was angry she was scared of dying. Of her baby dying. Her husband. and lastly you and your brothers.

Without saying a word you grasped her hand into your own and gave her a slight squeeze to not only calm her nerves but your own. The closer you got the more your heart increased but you ignored it. Knowing that you needed to put on your act like you always did. This time is no different.

When you were close enough Ada spoke loud catching the men’s attention. “Move!” She shouted and keeping up you followed up beside her pushing them out the way yourself. Once the two of you came into sight for the Peaky Blinders Freddie, Ada’s husband shouted out a question.

“What are you doing?” You ignored the burning stares from your brothers placing on your hard glare and stone face. Your stance stiff yet tall as you took off your black hat staying quiet for your sister to answer.

Ada didn’t waste any second on answering. “I believe you boys call this no mans land” only for Freddie to call out her name. “Ada!” “Shut up and listen!” Your sister ordered as she stopped pushing the baby.

Leaving him right in the middle of the muddy road between both group of men. You stood on the other side of the stroller holding on to your hat as you got ready to speak with your sister only for Freddie to once again interrupt.

“Have you lost your mind?” Before your sister could say anything you snapped. “She said shut up!” Your tone and voice got everyone to flinch and look at you. This time quiet as ever including Freddie who knew not to get on your bad side after many years of knowing you.

Turning towards Ada you nodded your head for her to continue to which she nodded back in thanks. Looking down towards your nephew you quietly brought your hand to rock the stroller to quiet down his cries just a little and without a thought he did.

“Now, most of you were in France.” Your sister started off as she stared at her Kimber’s men “So you all know what happens next.” She stepped back a little to look at the other side of Kimber’s men. “I’ve got brothers and a husband here, but you’ve all got someone waiting for you”

She then turned to the Peaky blinders side lifting up her hat and taking it off “Now, we’re wearing black in preparation.” Her graze straight at her husband. “I want you to look at me”

Taking a breath she turned to look at all the men on both sides as You continued to lightly rock Charles cooing at him softly. “I want you all to look at me.” Quietly you looked up at your sister curious on what she was going to say.

The only reason you really came was to protect your sister and nephew since you knew your brothers could handle themselves. Even if they were stupid.

“We’ll be wearing black for you. Think about them. Think about them right now,” With each words you glanced to each of your brothers, John being the last one you stared at before you payed attention back to your sister.

“and fight if you want to, but that baby ain’t moving anywhere..” Taking a shaky breath your sister stated her last words as you slowly took a few steps back like Ada had done from the other side of the stroller. “And neither are we” You finished off for her causing her to look over at you in thanks. Relived that you were still on her side.

Nodding you stood up straighter ready for anything that was about to come.

After a moment of silence Billy broke it with a nod. “she’s right you know. Why should all we men die? It should just be them who caused it” With his words he grabbed a gun from his pocket and shot.

Not wasting a second you jumped forward pushing the stroller right towards your sister as you took one of the other bullets that was shot by Billy since he was the only one shooting.

Muffled you groaned as you held your bleeding shoulder just as you heard another shot but from the other side of you. Meaning it was the peaky blinders that shot.

Opening your eyes you looked to see Billy Kimber on the ground. Letting out a grunt you moved to lay on your side as you ignored the orders of Thomas and the footsteps of running away men.

You had your eyes closed when you felt someone touching your cheek and calling your name to bring you out of your small world. Peaking your eyes open you locked eyes with your twin brother.

Growing annoyed you grabbed on to his arm just as he was picking you up. “After you bandage me up I'm gonna kill you idiots” You growled glaring at your twin since you were now in pain and shot. Giving another scar to your collection you never liked.

Arthur ignored you just grunting at your words as he lifted you up to follow after the men that was carrying Thomas to the Garrison to bandage the both of you up.

And true to your words the moment you were finished being bandaged up you gave hell to your brothers. All ringing them for being stupid and eventually giving them all a good hit on the head. To which they all just complained to Polly about. This being the one of the only times you guys acted like little kids like you used to be. Only this time they were drunk.

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mysticalrambling · 3 years

Note

Hey there😄😄I hope you are doing well...You did my last request so fabulously🤩🤩So I'm back with another request😅😅It's another arranged marriage request and I think its the most bizarre request I ever had so please be patient with me😂😂 and you can decline the request if you don't feel so😅😅...Ok so here it goes..

*Steve and y/n are required to get married under the marriage law, he doesn't wants to but being the good soldier he obeys the government....they get married but steve is cold towards his wife...his teammates tell him to give his marriage a chance but he ignores them...Then the accords happen and without a care he leaves his wife behind who is heartbroken seeing all this..Then after 2 years he sees her but again he feels nothing but after the snap when he saw losses around him and he gives his marriage a second chance, he starts being civil to his wife and cares for her but they never consumated their marriage...When the time heist becomes successful Steve consumates his marriage with the reader out of happiness and she thinks all is well...Everyone returns from snap and no one dies...But steve returns the stones and stays in the past and old steve comes back.... Heartbroken Y/n refuses to meet him and leaves the compound...turns out she was pregnant with Steve's baby and doesn't wants the old steve to know so...One day old steve sees pregnant y/n who is around 7 months pregnant and realises its his baby, he apologizes but she ignores and turn away from him... He goes to get help from Scott bcz he wants to be with his wife and son now bcz he and Peggy couldn't have kids, everyone thought steve was selfish...But then he tells the truth that he never wanted to stay in past, but when he went to say goodbye to peggy, she abducted him and broke the timetravel apparatus and forced him to stay in the past...Young Steve comes back and now his son is born who is around 8 months old...He attempts to get back with his family but his wife still ignores him and doesn't let him come near her or her son...Steve regrets for not loving his wife in the past and also volunteering for returning the stones...Then one day powerbroker (Sharon) blasts the house where steve's family lived thus killing his family, in way to revenge her aunty peggy...Steve is left with nothing but pain and regret....*

Regretting His Decisions (S.R)

A/N: Thank you so much lovely and I loved the plot line. I loved writing about it and I made a few additions to the story. Hope you like it.

Steve Rogers Fanfiction (Fanfiction Master List)

Summary: You and Steve get married and he is really rude to you. Then he leaves you behind and goes back to Peggy but he doesn’t realise that you are pregnant. However, Sharon kills you and the baby to avenge her Aunt Peggy and Steve is left with nothing but pain and regret.

Warnings: Angst all the way.

._._._._.

Steve never wanted to marry you or anyone else for that matter. But the government wanted it and like a good Captain, he listened to them. It was the stupid law and he wanted to wring the neck of those who made it. The protectors of the world had to get married so that the world sees them as fellow citizens instead of humans with super powers.

All the Avengers knew that Steve was hesitant to get married and he was doing out of duty. They knew that it was unfair but they all had met you. They all loved you instantly and knew that you and Steve would hit it off. However, the only problem was that he refused to meet you. The only thing that he knew about you was your name and your job occupation. Apparently, it wasn’t worth his time to get to know his to be wife.

“You need to give it a proper chance before you form an opinion.” It was the night of your bachelor party and while everyone is blackout drunk, Steve and Tony just sat on the side couch. For a person who was getting married tomorrow, Steve looked miserable and Tony couldn’t help but interfere.

“I am doing my job and that’s all that matters.” Taking a quick sip from his glass, he didn’t even wince at the liquid burning his throat.

Sighing, Tony filled up his glass again. A drunk Steve was better than a sober one, in his opinion. “A marriage is not a job and you need to try harder.”

“You don’t get to have an opinion, Tony. You got the perfect girl and the perfect wedding.” Jealousy coursed through his veins when he realised that everyone got to be with the love of their loves while he was stuck with someone who he barely knew.

Tony was left speechless and before he could come up with a response, Steve got up from his place and made his way towards his room. Calling it a night, he dreaded the next morning. He was happy for all of his friends but he also wanted to fall in love over first coffee dates, first movie nights, the first kiss and the moment he proposed because he loved you. Not because he was obligated too.

“You ready, Stevie?” Bucky was trying to be supportive but the headache was killing him. The tequila was literally seeping out of his pores. “How are you not hungover right now?”

“I didn’t drink like a maniac last night.” Adjusting his bow tie, he took a deep breath. This was the most difficult thing that he was going to do in his life and he just wanted to be left alone for sometime. “Can I have a moment alone?”

“Are you going to run if we leave you alone?”

“I am not a quitter and you all know that.” They all filed out of the room and he just sat down on the sofa and gave himself a prep talk.

You were no better on the other hand but you were ready to give it a try. Captain America was a good man and he would make a good husband. At least, that’s what you thought. You understood that the marriage was not happening under the best of circumstances but you could give it a fair chance. Taking a deep breath, you went to join your father on the doorway. He gave you a tearful smile and linked his hands with you.

“Do you take Steve Rogers as your lawfully wedded husband?” The minister asked the much awaited question and you quietly responded with an ‘I do’. During the whole ceremony, you wanted him to look at you but his eyes kept wandering. You passed it off as nerves but little did you know that he was so repulsed by the idea of this marriage that he refused to look at his wife to be.

“You guys are finally married. Treat her well, Rogers.” Fury took you both in a bear hug while your husband just hummed in response. You were like a daughter to Fury and that is why he recommended you as Steve’s spouse. He knew that Steve was an honorable man so he would fulfill all his duties as a husband.

The whole night was spent with you both smiling and engaging in conversations with the guests. However, you both made minimum effort to talk to each other except a few stolen glances. Your feet were killing you by the end of the event but you were never the one to complain. A look of relief appeared on your face when Steve announced an end to the event and thanked everyone for coming.

“Come on.” Hurriedly meeting his steps, you sat in to the passenger seat and those were the last words that were exchanged between you. When you entered the house, he took you straight to a guest room and then left. Whatever expectations that you had for tonight were crushed and so you went to bed with tears in your eyes and your wedding dress still on you.

During the next few weeks, Steve didn’t even glance at you but whenever you made an effort to do something nice for him, he shot you off. He was not willing to give it a chance and for the first few times that you made him dinner, he just picked it up and threw it in to the trash. You were never allowed in to his room and you learned it the hard way.

One day, you just wanted to put his laundry in to his room because he was not home yet. What was the harm? But boy, were you wrong. He came home early that day and he bursted at you the moment he saw you in his room. He called you some very mean things that you do not even want to recall. That night, you cried so much that your entire pillow was soaked but you didn’t want to leave him. You were in love with him way before you were married. He was the guy who saved the world and he was a good and an ethical man. Maybe he wasn’t nice to you but he was a good man and you couldn’t disagree with that.

It wasn’t that you needed a man in your life or you were dependent on him. It was that you had feelings for the man and your parents never raised you to be a quitter. You were still hoping that it all may be alright in a few days or weeks and you could have a family together. She knew that she had to be realistic but sometimes a girl wanted hope.

“I won’t be coming home for a few days.” At least he had the courtesy to tell you this time that he was going. "I have asked some of the agents to check up on you daily so if you need anything, just ask them."

"Okay." You quickly dismissed his questioning stare because he thought that you would ask questions. However, you knew that he would be rude and you would snap at him this time. A girl could only handle so much.

A week had passed and you got daily updates from Liam and Noah regarding the civil war. You still couldn’t believe that Tony and Steve were fighting because you witnessed their friendship firsthand. They had just informed you that Steve and his team were arrested by the government and shipped off to a black sight. You wanted to go to Fury and ask him to release all of them but Liam told you that it wouldn’t work. It was out of his hands.

“What do you mean?” You couldn’t believe your ears right now. Fury came by your house instead of Liam and Noah. He informed you that Chris and the other Avengers escaped from the prison and no one knows their location. Hurt was one of the most evident feeling running through your body and you didn’t know how to respond. How could he leave without telling you anything? How could he just leave?

“There will be some investigations on you but it would be nothing serious.”

“Why?” You exclaimed.

“The government is convinced that you know their location. It will blow over in sometime.”

“I am not going to sacrifice my freedom for someone who wasn’t even bothered to tell me about all this.” The hurt quickly turned into rage.

“But (Y/N)-”

“Tell all of them that I will not be doing anything and that you all should leave me alone.” You stood up and Fury took it as his cue.

Closing the door, you don’t let yourself ponder over the throbbing ache in your chest and instead get to packing. You were going to move out of this house and leave this life in the past. You moved into your parents house and immediately shot down their questions about Steve. There was a bookstore across from a studio apartment that Tony helped you find in the next few days. You loved books and the job paid pretty well. Soon, you forgot all about Steve and your failed marriage. Of course, there were feelings that you had to bury deep inside of you but you successfully managed to move on with your life.

“Have you heard, munchkin? Cap is back.” Tony shuffled your hair as he entered the library.. Pausing for a minute to absorb his words, you got right back into arranging the magazine section. It was the last thing that you had to do before you got off for the night.

“I don’t care. Are we still on for the night?”

“Yes. Pepper is cooking for the first time. Just say that you like the food.” From the past two years, Tony has been your person. He was the one who ordered you food when you were feeling too low or who massaged your feet when you had feet sores from lugging around books all day. You were thankful to have him in your life because he was not there to support you financially, he was there to support you emotionally. Sometimes, you felt so alone that you thought you might go into depression. But he was there to pull you back and so was Pepper. They were your family.

“Okay, Tony. I already know.” Quite a few things have changed over the years such as you changing your hair color to low lights and getting bangs. You changed your sense of style and. now you were pretty much unrecognizable. It was all in hope of leaving the past and turning over a new leaf. And you were somewhat successful.

“So how was the food?”

“Awesome!” The fake, shrill voice was hard to recognise, even for you but you didn’t want to hurt Pepper’s feelings.

“I know it was not good so I ordered some pizza as a back up.”

“I love you.” A chorus sounded from Tony and you as you both hugged her and kissed her on either cheek.

“Yeah, yeah.” She quickly dismissed you both but the cheeky grin on her face was hard to hide. You called it a night when you started feeling sleepy and you said your goodbyes. Your apartment was only two blocks away so you decided to take a walk to clear your head. Steve had been on your mind since the time Tony mentioned that he was back. As much as you wanted to believe that his arrival didn’t effect you, you couldn’t deny all the feelings that came rushing back in.

“Robbins Library, how may I help you?” Without looking up, you asked the question in a fake, chirpy voice.

“Why are you not at the house?” The voice startled you from your receipt checking and you gave him a confused look. As you had time to process the question, you looked over his appearance. More muscular and a fully grown beard was an interesting look and definitely suited him.

“Well, it was not mine to begin with.”

“I left you that house so you would be comfortable.”

“I am doing just fine without it. You know, I didn’t need anything from you but love and respect.”

Steve was trying to do something nice for you but he didn’t understand you. He felt nothing towards you even if he tried. Guilt coursed through him when he saw the look of hurt on your face but he couldn’t do anything about it. “That is too much.”

“Well, I deserve it and I am not going to settle for anything less.” This time, the brain won the battle and you were secretly glad. You resumed your work and he left without saying another word.

The city was in chaos in a few days because there was an alien invasion in place. The Avengers were all over the problem but Pepper and you were panicked. However, the only difference was that she could ask about Tony’s whereabouts and you couldn’t do that for your husband. There were no updates for you and when Noah came to get you both with a battered suit, you were worried.

Walking towards the tower, you realised that many people were crying but the most important thing was that it looked like half of the population was gone. There were a lot of things that you didn’t understand right now but only one thing mattered. One person. Steve. You ran towards the tower and when you saw him sitting on a chair with his head in his hands.

“What happened?” The logical part of your brain started working right on time.

“We couldn’t prevent the snap and Thor escaped.”

You didn’t know what it all meant but it was definitely something bad. “So what does it mean?”

“It means that half of the human population have disappeared. It means that half of our friends, families, loved ones have disappeared. It means that I have failed!”

“Why are you getting angry at me?”

“Just leave me alone.”

“Do not speak to me like that. I do not deserve it. When you are in the right frame of mind, come talk to me.” You were not the person that suffered silently. You were the person who knew. what she wanted and how she should be treated.

Going outside, you called your parents but it just went to voicemail. However, busy they might have been, they always picked up their phone. So you knew that they were gone too. You were alone in this world and you didn’t know what to do. In the far distance, you saw Tony and Pepper hugging and you were happy to see that your best friend was not gone.

With tears running down your eyes, you turned back and collided into a firm chest. Looking up, you saw Steve and you just wanted someone to be with you right now. That’s what Steve also wanted because he felt like a failure right now. He wanted to give the marriage another chance as he thought that it was a miracle that you both were still here after the snap. It was not fair on you but he just needed someone and so did you. It was a fair trade.

“I just don’t want to be alone right now, Steve.”

“Me too. Let’s go upstairs.” You both just silently hugged each other and kept staring out into the Manhattan skyline. You knew that he didn’t have any feelings towards you and you cared about that. But not today. Today, you wanted to just lie down and soak up in his presence because he was the only one left for you.

He brought you breakfast in bed the next morning and he took you to all the meetings. You were confused as to why he was doing all of it and when you asked him, his answer was ‘I am trying’. You didn’t get your hopes high because you knew that it would be pathetic. This was going to be temporary and you just knew it. However, you just wanted a companion so you rolled with the situation.

“We can work around quantum physics and get all of our friends back.” He informed you over the ice cream that you were sharing. A Netflix movie ran in the background because it was a Saturday and it was a routine for you both.

“That’s a really good thing.”

“We are going to do it tomorrow.”

“Nice. I am going to bed. Are you coming?” He mumbled out a small yes and picked up all the dishes to put them in the sink.

The whole day tomorrow you clinged by your phone and called your parent’s number after every fifteen minutes. You looked crazy by the end of the day but when they finally picked up, you couldn’t explain the joy that coursed through your whole body. Talking to them for hours, you promised that you would visit them and you cancelled the call.

Steve came back with a bottle of wine in his hands to celebrate. “We were successful. The world is saved. Cheers!”

“Cheers!” Both your happiness knew no bounds and after a few many glasses, you both were dancing to Taylor Swift songs. By the end of the night, you two were truly drunk and one thing led to another. You woke up the next morning with sheets wrapped around your frame and the pillow beside you crumpled but cold. You regretted the night so much because you knew that he did not have the same feelings for you.

The whole day, you spent cleaning the apartment as there were empty bottles of alcohol laying around. Then you went to the library and today was a busy day because many people wanted an update for the past five years of their lives. It kept you distracted from everything and when Tony came in, it was like the past repeating itself. He told you that Steve went to place the stones back but he came back as old.

You stopped listening to him after sometime as your mind tried to process what was happening. He betrayed you. Again. You were preparing yourself for the hurt whole day but this was totally unexpected. You knew what to do so it was a good thing. Detach yourself from the situation and do damage control. That was your motto for the next seven months and you refused to meet him even after you found out you were pregnant.

“You are in the mood of some ice cream with pickles, hmm little bean?” Rubbing your round belly, you walked towards the snacks aisle. The flavored pickle was on the top shelf but it was out of your reach. A wrinkly hand from behind picked up the jar and when you turned around to thank him, your voice was stuck in your throat. There stood your husband but the older version. The wrinkled face still held some similarities to the young captain but he had a slight hunch and grey hair.

“(Y/N), is that you? Are you- You are pregnant?” The question in his eyes was pretty evident.

“Seven months.” You curtly spoke and wheeled the trolly towards the check out. He quickly figured out the timeline and felt guilty. It was his baby and he left you alone. He caught up to you when you were bagging the groceries.

“I am sorry, (Y/N). I didn’t know. If I could change everything, I would. Please give me another chance.”

“You chose Peggy so you don’t get to come back in my life. Leave us alone. It would be a favor for this child if he never gets to know you.” Telling him off made you feel a whole lot better and you went towards your car.

Seeing you leave, Steve knew that he had to make things right. He went to the compound where all the Avengers were lounging around.

“I thought you had retired, Cap.” Peter called out from playing his video game with Bucky.

“I want your help, Scott. I want to go back to my old self.”

“Why, Captain? Got bored of the grandfather look?” Tony asked while stuffing his mouth with buttered popcorn.

“No. I just found out that my wife is pregnant and I want to be there for them.”

“That’s sweet but why? You already had your chance with Peggy.” Natasha wasn’t very happy with Steve right now but they all had the same question running through their minds.

“Peggy and I couldn’t have kids.”

“So you are using (Y/N) and this kid as a replacement. That’s just selfish, Steve.” Everyone gave him a disgusted look because they couldn’t believe that he was just using you and the child to fill a hole in his life. Not because he loved you both.

“That’s not true. I didn’t want to stay in the past with Peggy but she forced me to. She broke the time machine apparatus and I had no other choice but to accept that life.” He looked at all of them and saw that they all were listening to him. “I made a time machine the whole time I was there and when it was complete, I got the hell out of there.”

“Oh, Steve. We are so sorry. Of course, we will all help you.” Hugging him tight, Nat spoke on behalf of all the others. The machine was all ready to go so Steve stood in the middle of it with Scott. They had to go back and fixed the machine’s timing and it would take some months to do all that.

Meanwhile, you got back home and unpacked all the groceries. Your hormones were running wild at the moment as you sat on the sofa with your swollen feet on the coffee table. You wanted a companion sometimes who would massage your back or who would call you pretty when you were feeling insecure about yourself or who would bring you food at four a.m. But this was a dream and you gave up on it a long time ago. You were enough for your baby and that was a fact.

When Steve came back, 10 months had passed by. You had given birth to a beautiful baby boy after a 21 hour labour. You cried and even though you had your mom with you, you still called out for Steve. You wanted him with you and afterwards, when you held that boy in your hand, you wanted Steve to be there with you to enjoy the moment. However, it was the last time his name even came out of your month.

“Oliver, you need to eat, bubba.” The last 8 months have been a rollercoaster ride for you and you knew through Tony and Pepper that Steve had gone back in time. You didn’t bother with the details because you had another human being to worry about.

“Nooooo.” This one word was the kid’s favorite and everyone of his sentence started with it. You were interrupted in the middle by the doorbell. Picking up your child from the high chair, you made your way through the house towards the door.

“What are you doing here?” Steve looked the same age as you so you knew that the time machine trip was successful. But you saw red. He didn’t deserve you or Oliver.

“(Y/N), is- is that him?” The blubbering baby did not even pay attention to his father and kept on pulling your hair. He was an exact replica of Steve from the dirty blonde hair to the charming smile. A literal reminder for you but you loved this little boy to death.

“Yes and now go away. We don’t need you.” Looking at the baby, he regretted the day he made the decision to be the one to return the stones. He regretted the fact that he did not allow himself to love you. He regretted everything. “Do not come near us. Goodbye.”

You went on with your week as per usual with feeding Ollie in the morning and taking him to the library with you where he had his own play pen. Then getting light lunch across the street and coming back home to take a nap for a few hours. Afterwards, you both ate dinner while Oliver’s favorite cartoons played on the tv. Except for the fact that Steve was at your house, your job and your cafe from the day he came back. He tried to apologize but the years that you spent in agony was too much. It was too little, too late.

It was a Sunday afternoon and by some miracle, Steve had left you alone. He had a meeting with the other Avengers regarding Asgard today. You were just playing with Oliver on his mat as he tried to crawl towards the stuffed toys in your hands. Before you picked him up, you thought that you smelt gas. However, a loud explosion threw you in to the nearest wall and you knew that your time was here. During the last few breaths, you tried to find Oliver but you couldn’t move. Mentally calling out for Steve, your gaze became unfocused and you lost conscious.

“Wha-What happened?” Steve knew that there was a bomb blast and he wanted to hope against all hope that you both were safe. However, the two body bags wheeled out of the burnt down house had him fall to his knees.

“There was an explosion and we caught Agent Sharon fleeing the scene.”

Sharon had confessed that she wanted to have revenge on Steve for cheating on her aunt Peggy. The new family that Steve had was a disgrace to her Aunt’s memories so she murdered them. She had gone a little crazy because Peggy was the one who take care of her when she was a child and she felt that Steve betrayed her.

Steve didn’t know what to do with his life at the moment. He was left all alone and his family was snatched away from him. He didn’t get a chance to be with them and now he was left with nothing but pain and regret. Trying to convince Fury to let him go back in time and prevent the explosion was futile because Fury just told him that this would upset the balance of nature. He didn’t understand it at first but then as time passed, he did. All the toys and photos that were salvaged from the house now decorated Steve’s very lonely apartment and he never let himself forget.

This was his punishment and he was not going to run away from it. Not this time.

Hope you guys enjoyed it!!

._._._._.

A/N: I loved writing about Steve but I am no longer taking requests for some days. I actually have some of my drafts that I want to complete. You can send in requests but it will take some days for me to get to them:) Love you guys and do tell me if you want to be added to my taglist.

Taglist: @kalopsia-flaneur, @justile

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secretbangtnn · 3 years

Text

Love Lies | kth I

➤ summary : You never had it easy. From the first day of your life it seemed like fate was a big joke, making every effort to make you feel miserable. Shortly after taking the first step into adulthood, you are convinced that childhood doom follows you like a shadow. On the verge of being broke without any help, you take your friends advice and try your hand in industry you have no idea about.

➤ genre : CEO! au, prostitution but not really au, strangers to enemies to lovers, Smut, fluff, angst

➤ pairing : Taehyung x reader ft. Jimin (This chapter Jimin x reader)

➤ ratings : 18+ NSFW

➤words : 10k

➤ warnings : swearing, prostitution, sex for money, mentions of mental health, toxic household, mentions of violence, explicit sexual content, mxm, fxm, family problems, dishearitance, toxic relationship, Taehyung is bad at feelings, reader is lost, soft boy jimin, sexy hot taehyung (couse that will need a warning) - more to be added

notes ~

I finally did it! I'm so sorry for the wait and how the chapter came out - it's a little more messy than I predicted but i wanted to give you something before the big story. I promise the next chapter is going to start with the big action and main plot and finally with Taehyung. I really hope for some feedback, I worked hard for it to be done before the next week and even though it may seem boring i really hope it’s okay.

taglist:

@jinssexytoe @danyxthirstae01 @alwaysasadaesthetic @luvmingyu @chimincubus @minshookie29

Underneath the sunrise

Show me where your love lies

Relationships that are based on lies never last long and everyone who found themselves in artificial feelings, knows of the truth of those words. Although that sweet sinful lie sometimes replaces that thing we could have never got.

You never thought about yourself as someone low, at least not that low to kneel to beg of something so materialistic like money.

You respected yourself at the same time being sure that you would fight everything alone. Just like a good fighter - you didn't need a good sword in a big war. Even once in your whole life you wouldn't have thought of stepping that low to actually work as a cleaner in old school or supermarket lady, that couldn't even use the calculator right.

How ironic, we love when inevitable doom falls on people that did not deserve it.

You were taught from the beginning, how to live, what to do, how to look, and the most important who to listen to. It's so weird when we find a character that's not extremely bad or good, not the shy mouse of the school, also not the hot rebellious cool girl with too big ego, and mouth so unbelievable that you actually start to think if you have ever met someone without such basic manners.

Fact is that you are bland, your life never yours to live, as someone recorded it with a script in their hands, and a plan for an ending and second part. It was frustrating knowing how many people never cared about you, however you could not say that you indeed did too.

Lessons were taught, those made you somehow resistant to disappointments in life. First happening in early stage, not even first year of your high school, people started to know - know about this and that, about family of yours and how privileged they would be if they had you on their side.

But you did not have a problem with it, mindset so set that you liked to think about money as a guarantee of friendship. And with this thought you let the first people use you, not minding their motive of only getting part of your prosperity.

So you believed to those days that your childhood indeed was normal.

You never tried to run from your life, you never saw yourself as a hormonal teenager in need of attention.

In the end only those who were born in respecting families, where work and pride is placed higher than blood ties, knows how upringbing really looks in such a household. Your standart always high, doing that to not need to put it higher again.

Parents instilling you dreams that were not yours, making you believe in something they always wanted. Like it was written, your whole life does not belong to you, and realization over it came in the moment when it was a little too late. Happy smiles never real, friends you swore would not leave you, disappeared within a night.

However let’s not impose that your parents were monsters, killing you on the inside with their cold demeanor or making your life miserable.

The first problem began when you had enough, when a virus in your mind told you about your own desires.

You remember this day like it was yesterday. Invisible mark on your check is still pulsating, with a wound much deeper inside screaming at you that it is still not healed.

“I want to study medicine.” Those were the exact words you first told your mother, freezing her in place and scarring inside with the power and destruction they held. She did not hold back with ignoring you, acting like the sentence was a mere passing wind, just fluffing hair in a not nice type of way. You expected that, nothing new from a shell of a person your mother has become, money and power empowering her mind, probably killing the young woman you are now, in her.

So the first step of actually making a point of how you processed to cut your family ties, were with your mother, kind of preparing you for what has to come.

Dark room, with marble accents and a woody smell that came straight to your nostrils. Mahogany desk, big enough to contain tons of papers scattered over it like some kind of nto important rubbish. You however knew better, and those innocent stock of inked pages held more value than maybe you yourself.

It was so hard to breathe in this tiny space, now feeling ever more closed up, dark and not welcoming. You tried to believe that the reason for it was not really a man sitting just before you, not minding your presence in a slighlets, but a stress and emotions on your back, you were trying to bear by yourself.

“I’m busy.” Short answer, not even directed to you - not that the man ever looked at you with those dark eyes. Predictable, exactly like you guessed. Cold feeling with a hot flush over your cheek, not knowing where the previous patience had gone.

Maybe you finally had enough. You were too tired to try to understand.

“Dad, please listen to me.” Ice cold bucket over your head, a void eyes now on you, not really expecting them to stay on you for so long, or even look up. Pupils a little blow out, stirring the dark color pallet of his eyes, similar to the tone of the bags under them. What a wrack of a man he really was, lanky hands under the suit, scribbling over something not even a minute ago, now lying lifelessly on a brownish desk.

“You really couldn't find better time for your whining? Go on, I still have a lot of work to do before I need to actually go.” Unconcern, you could even feel the unitresment oozing from him, hitting you with those eyes. They were looking at you, but at the same time it felt like they never were there. Black holes, no feelings found, gaze scary for those who never met someone so indifferent.

“I dropped out.”

“What?” Words came after some silence, piercing straight your beating heart. Hands in fist, just beside your thighs, so white that it could even be a little concerning for those looking from the side. You were nervous, even after you told yourself that this conversation was not going to be easy. Smooth information that it should be, your own life choices never discussed so openly.

“I dropped out of college”

Not a breath was heard, a heavy hand landed on the desk with a smack, knocking in the process some of the scattered pens.

“You did what?” Too calm, his voice was too calm for such information. Nerve wracking feeling once again welcomed you inside, making you take one step back. Soft material of the shirt creased under your hard grip. “It’s not the time for such a jokes Y/n”

“I’m not joking dad, I took the papers yesterday. I'm tired of wasting my time on something I never wanted.”

“Oh? But are you really? What are you going to do then? I'm getting really curious” Tone momocking you in every kind of way. You clench your teeth, an annoyed expression came over your face, just to disappear within one glance of the man.

Questions were rhetorical, laughing at your whole being in the cruelest manner. He knew about your every vulnerability, molding your persona from the beginning. So it must have been funny for him, seeing a little girl, someone he treated not entirely equally, however putting some kind of hope and dreams he himself could not reach, standing before him like a scared puppy asking for a treat.

“You yourself know the best how important those studies are for you. You prepared your whole life to go there and take my place one time, so don’t joke about it like it’s some kind of dish you are bored of eating.”

“You forced me to do it! I never wanted to take your place, study the stupid law.”

“And you decided that this is the time to suddenly realize that? Y/n from the beginning, we always gave you what you wanted, fulfilling your every wish, buying everything you wanted, and even after that you can’t be grateful. We only asked you for one thing, one thing Y/n, there is not such a thing like your dreams, there is only our family.” You wanted to laugh, those stupid exucess, only making you annoyed and wroked up. Manipulating you into believing you were selfish, that you are the problem, and you owe them right to living.

“Don’t be ridiculous father, you are not in the place to talk about family or do I need to remind you of Na-”

You heard it before you felt it. Burning feeling right in your left cheek, head on the side from the harash contact it made with the ringed hand. It was not the first time you saw or experienced such an act. Father being the man that loved to lose his temper rather fastly, hiding on the outside behind the calm demeanor and innocent smile.

Blood on your tongue, the metallic taste in your mouth like a forbidden flower you just tasted.

“You really want me to get mad today hm? “ You really wanted to nod, looking straight at him from your hair that fell after the slap. Hand on the cheek, trying to stop the pulsating ache to echo so much, however you know the best that the hot feeling is only building up and it's the only matter of time till the beautiful tones of purple show on your soft skin.

His own hands now begin viped over the handkerchief, a little blood over the white fabric, likely from the little scratches the rings were able to make.

His back to you as he went back behind the dark desk, sitting on his chair like nothing happened. And you knew, secretly that it was the end, that the conversation was done and nothing else could be said.

You closed your eyes, not even noticing you did it, realizing it after the first salty tear fell to your mouth, giving you a taste of sorrow. Head down, not in shame but in anger, with a pulsating cheek not letting you forget about the consequences your every word bears, you turned around going to the door that before somehow gave you so much hope.

“Oh and Y/n, there is no you without this family, but there is family without you. It won’t be the first time when I lose a child.”

Those exact words hunted you till this day. Rather heavy feeling, three years not long enough to make you forget, or let you accept a new life.

Loud noise of passing cars just outside the dirty window with a pounding of heart echoing in your ears. It was one of those bad days - you liked to say, those however started happening a lot of more. Breaking was never something you wanted to do, working so many jobs you could not count on your fingers, living in shitty apartments for no longer than two months just to end up on someone's couch.

That is the life you chose, the life you barely lived, everyday wishing for a miracle.

Harsh paper under your fingers, weighting your hand weirdly down - maybe it was the words that made the letter so heavy, maybe the truth you needed to face. Fact is that you do not know what to do, trying for the last months to make a living for yourself, get better pay and settle down for a longer time.

Words of your father echoing once again, making your eyes squish with the feeling. It was so hard to accept a defeat, something that you worked so hard for and for so long. You could not beg, you could not go on your knees again, and even if it was an option, imagines and memories of life in such a household keep you in the place you are now.

Head resting under your arms, shielding bright rays of sun from your eyes, long locks falling down in waves just over your pale face. You pulled them with a strength you did not know you possessed at the moment, as if it was because of them you needed to deal with all of this.

“Think Y/n, think” Mutters fell from your mouth like a mantra, supposed to make you cheer up a little. Void in your head, not ending emptiness that scares you as much as the strings of unpaid numbers on this goddamn paper.

An late hour struck on the side clock, hanging on one of the grey walls of the run down apartment you lived in. Sight itself is depressing, leaving you in wonder if maybe it is not one of the reasons for your current mood.

Who you wanted to trick.

A little knock once again echoed in the quietness of your home, reminding you of the late hour. Looking from your thick locks of hair, you sighed seeing how little time you actually got to get there. With one move, you left the scrap of paper on the side, and stood up from the ugly green couch, taking in the process bag of the crookedly hanged hook.

Fast footstep as you nearly run over one of the olders ladies living in the same flat, trying to messily wrap an apron over your waist, which is not as easy as it seemed to be earlier. Bluish fabric holding on to you with all the power, hanging a little on the too long strings, that untied themselves with each step.

You tried not to think about all those stares, looking at you as you run past them, not minding where your feets go, or if you accidentally push someone on the side. Let people think what they want, it's not like your opinion matters, and being a disgrace to your whole family disappears.

Familiar neon letters came to your sight forming the greenish title of caffe you soon found yourself in. A little bell rang as the door opened informing everyone about your presence. Calm atmosphere, everyone was busy in their own word, you loved this, a quiet place which you often found yourself admiring.

You wished that working there was not such an obligation, the only thing that let you stay in your current apartament. Rosy cheeks, and cheeky smiles as people got their morning coffee, thanking you quietly for the drink with such a pure impression, that you could not hold back the smile you gave each one of them.

“I’m so sorry for being late, I hope you didn’t need to run too much.” You said between heavy breaths, still trying to catch remaining puffs of air, head tilted to the side, hands on knees as you looked at the little blonde behind the counter.

Said boy only laughed a little, shaking his head from the embarrassment after the statement. Ringed hands cleaning some cups, quiet melody living his plump lips.

“Am I suppose to feel offended? I’m not an old man you know.” He asks, knowing that the answer will never be given. Voice on the lighter side, something you would expect from such a soft looking boy, warm and sweet to listen, and you indeed do, always keeping quiet when the boy talked about his own day to fill the quietness of your workplace.

You knew the boy was one of the things that made you feel normal, with his bright persona and angelic personality, you liked to believe he was one. He did not ask, knowing some things should stay in the dark, and you repaid him the same, being fully aware of the boy's secrets.

“Not at all. Beside we all know that it's not about you, but about who will get in trouble from your whining - and yes, it would be me. “ You say, patting his back on the way to the other side. Confused gaze now on you, as you smirk at the questioning boy waiting for some kind of elaboration, only getting from you another cup to wipe.

“Should i remind you of a certain person, which came to me with a complaint of how his favorite boy was tired - what was his name? Oh yeah Yo-”

“I don’t know what you are talking about.”

You laughed at the squeaky voice that came in a form of fast spoken answer, a little too fast to understand every word completely. Pretty blush came over his round cheek, soon appearing on tips of his lears, hidden by mop of blonde hair.

Not a piece of judgment in your gaze, but rather sweet caring look over the embarrassed boy next to you, trying so hard not to look bothered by your everyday teasing, that he was slowly getting accustomed to, liking how your voice gets a little lighter, your eyes light up and a pure giggle leaves your mouth.

Yeah he definitely could live with it if it means he can see the sparkle pops out in the dark of your pupils.

Cup in his hands a little heavy with the next thought that came over him. Melody coming with the pleasant wind of the early monday morning, his eyes however discreetly gazing over your figure. He knew when the times were worse, when your collarbones stood out more, welcoming i'm from the collar of an old shirt, you probably needed to wash by hands, and he hated that even if he tried to explain it, not care so much, he simply could not stop the worry seeking of him.

You were a sweetheart, never judging him, understanding his reason even after he told you about the second job he needed to take. You simply smiled, wishing him all good, and getting excited about dreams that were not your own, laughing with him and talking about his future plans as if you had place in them.

Thanks were never enough to pay off all the hardship you helped with. He respected you, admired so many things about you, how you don’t need a reason to give an arm to cry on, always taking a piece of burden on your own shoulders, whispering promises and talking about a better future that comes with hardships.

“Don’t be so embarrassed~ “ You sing to his ear when you pass him, going over to the coffee machine, big bag of beans in your hands. “I dare to say I got a little jealous when I saw him for the first time.”

“Gosh I hate you sometimes.” He whines, throwing his head back, closing his eyes to remain calm. Smile now on your lips, little giggles leaving your busy persona, trying not to be too loud in such an early hour.

An enjoyable silence came over once again, only sounds of working machines and knocks of cups, that were cleaned and wiped, mind automatically getting fuzzy from the fresh brew of coffees and autumn wind. Not a person in a shop, being still a little too early to welcome customers or get a morning drink, subtle music playing a little louder at those times filling little breaks of silence.

So how surprising it was, when those little giggles tickled your own ears suddenly and strong arms, clothed in white shirt, sneaked around your waist, making you lose the focus on filling the cup with beans. Blonde hair over your cheek, stroking the soft skin with a funny feeling, only pushing you to squirt more.

“You know if you liked him so much, you could have just said. I would think of something.” He whispers mockingly, smacking his lips in the end. Shiver comes with his next move, hands on your hips, keeping them from stirring so much, hot and on the smaller side however still noticeably bigger than your own. “Sadly I do not share my clients.”

With those words, he quickly detaches himself, hitting your bum with a cheeky smile that you soon could see right before you as the boy grabs one of the fresh croissants, putting the whole thing into his mouth.

“It must be big for you to say that.” You laugh, looking at the choking boy with the same expression he was giving you not even a minute ago.

“That was totally inappropriate.” Says blonde, chugging a glass of water you gave him out of pity.

“Now, don’t play an innocent Jimin, I see how you look at that one girl that comes here every friday. Didn’t you even memorize her order - gosh i heard you repeating it so many times that I know it myself.”

“Okay, okay maybe you are right, but it doesn’t mean you can judge me.”

“Would I ever?” A dramatic sight from the boy's accusations leaves your lips, you touch your heart looking at him with the most hurt eyes you could manage to do, a little tear spins in your eye. Mouth full of baked goodie, he laughs showing a little of non eaten food, with a proud expression to it. Your own smile now noticeable on face, happy feeling over your whole being, loving how this short amount of time with the bubbly boy let you forget about some problems. You take one of the left rags of the counter and throw it at his face, hoping to get him to work. “Stop eating! We are opening soon and I don't want to listen to how the coffee machines should be ready before the first client, because someone didn’t want to move his ass.”

“Just say you don’t want to deal with that old raisin.”

Nobody did, but Jimin had some superpower you sadly did not possess, and could at least shut the old businessman that somehow always comes first. Coming back to an earlier job, you pour black beans in the measuring cup, trying not to let the weight of the bag swoop you.

Place once again in a nice atmosphere, Jimin singing somewhere in the back, probably preparing syrups and goodies, sorting eveyrything on the displae plate. You two fell in a pleasant rhythm, doing your jobs like robots, knowing where things should go, and how not to disturb each other in the middle of action.

And it was something you really enjoyed, that piece and order, making you feel secure at least in such a place. Like you had power over your own life, your hands did what you wanted, your mind clear with tasks to be done.

Peace.

You both knew that this place was a mere act in the theatre of lies, you played in. Cafe such like that one, a happy place for two broke students, that tried everything in their power to make a living, pursue dreams so far away, still hoping that they are not going to disappear with all the hardships.

You could just drown in this lie of beauty picture you painted yourself, pretending your lifes do not look as bad, and even though you did not know the boy so well, you could tell from his eyes that he indeed is a player in the same game as you.

The truth being you did not know each other, you were not close. You knew about his job, about his own problems - some of them left unsaid, but who could you judge when you acted exactly the same.

Understanding from each other was enough.

However the boy tried to help you, offering sum of money or better paid jobs in times when you were too tired to hide it, those although - he learned after some time, never were an option for you.

And so with the next passing wind, the first client came welcoming you with kind of a grumpy smile, wishing for you to just make him the coffee. It was as always, a busy morning on the first day of the week, that always seems a little more crowded than any other, with business men and middle aged women trying to get over their morning sickness as fast as possible.

You saw the girl you talked about some minutes ago, looking from her covering eyes bangs, squashed from pink beanie on her head, nevertheless still laid perfectly. A little wave, hand hid under the panda mittens she liked to wear every other day the temperature goes down.

You smiled at the interaction, the excited smile on Jimin's face he tried so hard to hide, not doing a good job with his nearly nonexistent eyes that disappeared just because of it. She was pretty, a student in a university you both go to, however you were not sure what exactly she was majoring in.

Her funky style makes you take a shot at something related to fashion, but that might be completely wrong and the girl could just like wearing such bright clothes.

“Love the mittens, they look nearly as cute as you.” You heard, looking back from your busy hands, to gaze at the flustered pair. Adorable giggle soon leaves her mouth, covering lips with the said gloves as her own eyes disappear from weirdly similar eyesmile.

Jimin was a sweetheart, someone who deserved a happy future. And so you did everything to make that happen, wishing him the best and trying to help him even if it means your own happiness goes on a second plan.

“I'm sorry but could I order.” Coming back to your own job, you look up immediately, catching the gaze of one of the clients you did not recognize.

“Oh yes of course, I'm sorry for the wait. What can I get you?”

----

A loud noise of a closing locker echoes in a quiet room in the back of the coffee shops. Night air chilling from the open window you opened some minutes ago, to get rid of a smell so many people.

The calm of the room soothing your buzzing nerves and shaking hands, that always seems to do it after a hard day of work. Your attention now somewhere else as you try to take off the blue apron, laying it somewhere on the lonely bench next to you.

It was a busy day, helping you forget about what waits for you at home, and what person will probably visit you in the meantime. You didn’t like those times, the quiet after such hard working hours, leaving you with anxious thoughts rotating around the same problems you tried so hard to run away from.

So you tried once again, silence your mind with your hands, taking every job you could, now wiping lockers that never needed to be wiped before. The same rug from before in your hands, sliding over an uneven surface.

“Y/n?” You jumped from the sudden voice, swearing that Jimin was in the other room just a second ago. Turning around, you try to look unbothered, clenching the old rug in your hands with such interest. A little noise comes from your mouth, hum to let him know you are aware of his presence.

“Everything alright?” He asks a little unsure of the question, looking at you from the other side of the room, close to the door connected to the main room.

“Yeah, why would there not be?

“You were cleaning the lockers like not even a minute ago.” He says without thinking. Voice somehow suspicious, full of hidden concern as his suspicions from before seem to be true. You were not alright, and Jimin knows exactly what it may be. “If you need hel-”

“I'm alright! I'm really alright there is no need to worry, I'm just stressed because med major is harder than I thought.” The sigh is enough to let you know that he is not buying it.

Hard steps as he comes closer, opening his own locker situated right next to you, eyes glazing back at you from his clothes is started to put back. Tight lipped smiles is the only thing you are capable of answering with, catching his dark stare for a second.

“Im worried, and I know what you want to say, but I can’t help it. You are always the one that takes my burden so why can I not do the same?” He closes the locker with too much strength, making you jump again from the loud noise.

“It’s different.”

“How is it different? You help me with everything, you let me cry, you let me crash at your apartment when my parents try to make a mess again, so what’s the problem with me?! You don’t even want to tell me what's wrong dammit.” His eyes glassy from all the emotions, hands in a fist as if he tried to hold himself back. He turned completely to you, cornering you to the lockers behind, not letting you leave this time.

“Is it because of my work? Are you ashamed to take dirty money from someone who can’t earn normally and needs to sell themself. Is it this?! Tell me Y/n, I’m tired of seeing you in such a state, you are my friend.”

“You know it’s not that.” You tried to argue catching his watery eyes.

“So tell me, tell what is going on.”

Your own mouth in agape, words lost somewhere in the back of your head. So many years going alone, keeping everything to yourself shows itself with such a hestation of saying easy words that could let you breathe easier at night.

But would they really?

Giving someone your own burden was something you were taught as a shame. Problems should stay in family, and even there your father always told you to fight them alone.

“I - “ Eyes hopeful, looking at you with new found desperation. Big and different from the ones he was giving the sweet girl with panda mittens, and that alone made you sick knowing that the sparkle left because of you. “I’m sorry Jimin I just can’t.”

And you broke. With the remaining energy you mustered, you fell onto Jimin, him nearly not catching you on time. First tears fell, with such a power, rolling down your cheeks, wetting the soft fabric of Jimin’s shirt. You did not know why, why now you decided to just let go, sobbing so much, hoping the boy will understand that you only need someone to hold you.

And he did, wrapping his arms so securely around, letting you hide the red face in a crock of his neck. Fresh smell of flowers and perfume he always wore with a noticeable hint of coffee, you probably possesed yourself. Quiet whispers of comfort, tickling your scalp a little, hands patting your hair with care, brushing them with such a delicacy, like he secretly knew how breakable you are now.

“It’s going to be okay.” Void promise, his lips close to you kissing your forehead, with shaky hands trying so hard to gather every tear that fell down. With a little move he sat on a bench, an apron which you earlier left there dropped on the floor, a quiet thud ran in the small room, you on his lap, trying so hard to become smaller nearly molding in the bigger body of Jimin’s.

Sorry’s fly through your mouth, realizing it after Jimin's starts to rock your body. He peels your face from the safe space of his neck, wiping your running tears with both of his thumbs and trying to smile a little.

“I know it’s hard, but sometimes we need to let someone in, let them help put broken pieces together.” Eyes shining in the dim light of the room, your mouth ready to disagree quickly however quieten by his own speech. ”I know what you want to say Y/n” He starts again taking a big breath. “Being helpless doesn’t mean being weak, asking for help is not something to be ashamed of. Being strong however - is letting someone in, taking they hand and standing up with them - you have to have courage to do it, and I know you do to - but whoever put such a toxic mindset in you, keeps you from it and you need to realize that there is no longer people who will judge you for falling down a litte.”

Eyes falling down, sore from all the crying that has no plans to stop. You wipe the snot with your sleeve as well as wet cheeks, laughing a little after it, sniffles in the room as you try to calm yourself a little.

Jimins gaze still at you, now softer still brushing your hair in a calming manner with the second hand drawing circles on the side of your waist. It was shameful, hearing such words, knowing deep down they were true, but too prideful to agree with them.

“Gosh If I knew you cry like that, I would take a bucket with me. I wouldn’t need to pay water bills for like two months with it. “ He laughs as you smack him with your hand. Smile on your face, you tilt your head leaning on his arm with all the weight, a small sigh leaves your mouth. Smell of coffee now is more prominent with his own perfume, which he wears everyday, pushing your mind into own fuzzy feeling. “You know that I will always be there for you, right?”

A silent nod is enough, not too much to say after such an outbreak from your side still buzzing inside you. You know it was true, with how much you both came through together, it would be stupid to leave someone who become somehow a safe heaven.

“What are you going to do now? You won’t take any money, I guess you either are not going to be too willing to crash in my apartment.” Your head immediately shots up, eyes searching those of Jimin. A look of confusion cross your face for a second, with the words repeating in your mind once again. His face however is still serious, not leaving your surprised gaze.

“W-what how do you kno -”

“Your landlord called, I didn’t want to disturb you on your break - by the way I saw you sleeping you are not as sneaky as you think.” He interrupts you in the middle of talking, brushing his hair.

You frown, looking in disbelief at the boy, a little upset from the news. Touching your phone was okay, but taking a call and not saying anything, it just fell wrong.

“So why were you trying so hard to force me to talk?” The questions came a little more aggressive than intended, but who could you blame when your private life was exposed so easily. Truth being that you felt not as angry as embarrassed, never sharing such information before leaving them in the dark.

“I know you would be angry when I tell you about the phone - which I was right about.” He pouts looking somewhere in shame, like a child that was caught with sneaking sweets.

“But it doesn’t matter, what are you going to do without help? It’s not like our boss will gave you a rise from nothing, and do not even think about starting another job - we have studies, it would be plain stupid unless you ask your family for help, you never mentioned them but they would understand right?.”

“They sure would.” You sneer, standing up from the comfort of his lap. Your smile turned down on the mention of those people, it's not like you want to have something going on with them, it would be asking satan for help and that always comes with a price. “Thanks for everything Jimin, but I will be alright.” You add walking back to the hatstand where your hoodie hangs, grabbing it with your free hand, second one carrying the bag. Jimin's eyes follow you, surprised by the sudden movement and innocently big, like he waited for some better explanations - which he won’t get.

“B-but wait! Where are you going, don’t leave me like that!” You heard the shouts, desperate movements in the previous room meaning the boy tried to catch up, however you were long ago outside the cute coffee shop, starting the journey to your quiet apartment. Maybe it was mean, and maybe Jimin was too good to be treated like this, but your own mood was now too fragile to stay in the same room as the insistent boy.

Autumn wind welcoming you once again, cold weather sneaking inside your clothes, the light hoodie not doing any justice with such temperature - still it was the only thing you owned with better quality. Head full of thoughts a little overcrowded with a starting headache, not letting you walk in a peace you somehow needed just now.

Walk to your house - at least the recent one, was not one of the long one, rather passing as a nice stroll. And even though your shifts ended in night hours, the quiet and calm way never made you feel scared of any sudden dangers awaiting you on Seoul's streets. It was a nice neighborhood, one where families that were a little lower than middle class tried to make a living, keeping their kids in a safe environment. Happy smiles and laughs welcoming you sometimes in the morning, kids rushing to their own school, greeting you even after those months you stayed there, only making you nostalgic at the thought of leaving such a safe haven.

So it was more than surprising when a quick footstep rang in your ears, soon nearing you even faster. Your beating heart now rapidly knocks in your chest, as your eyes try to search for the reason for those sounds.

You didn’t need to search for loong, soon hearing the screech of a voice not so far from you. “Y/n! Wait for me!” It was even worse when the little man started to dramatically draw his hands to touch, however your concern only lay in the thought of waking up the whole neighborhood. Eyes slitted, an annoyed expression crossing your face at the sight of the panting boy, soon stopping before you, not without tripping and nearly taking you with him. “You… really want to kill me.”

Heavy breath hitting your face, his voice strained and tired from the miles he needed to run to catch up to you. You however were more than a little shocked - yes Jimin is stubborn, and yes he is the person to run after someone just because the said person lost a penny, but his appearance here was different. It was crossing the invisible line you both draw, accepting each other's bubble of comfort.

So the question still stayed, your face hard with a thundering gaze waiting for the boy to calm a bit.

“Why did you suddenly leave?” Seriousness leaked out from his tone, however the way his eyes scrunched only meant that he indeed felt a little hurt from your previous action. And you don’t even wonder why, knowing how your choices could wound the innocent boy. “Is it about your family? If its a soft topic we can never talk about it ag-”

“You want me to walk away again?” His eyes got bigger at your cold tone, his foot taking a step back. Your family, the topic you did not want to bring up today, explaining the harsh demeanor you suddenly took. Eyes however softened as fast as they met the boy’s hurted ones, a gulp of remorse sliding down your throat. “Look - I appreciate your help but I don’t need a person to be helpless with.” You took a step forward placing your hands on the boy's arm, squeezing it in reassurement. Looking him straight into eyes a sight left your mouth soon forming in a little awkward smile - the only one you could force yourself into. “You helped me enough, there is nothing else you can do, It’s not your battle to fight you have your own problems and asking you to take mine would be cruel.”

And how awful it was to turn back leaving him again, you did just that, giving him the last pat with a smile. His own mouth opening and closing, agape from the schock you probably left him. And you were sure that this time he will let it go, your words full of coldness not leaving room for arguments.

“But what if I do?” His voice stopped you in the middle of the step, freezing your form with a new squeeze in stomach. You did want to hope for nothing, feeling how your eyes got bigger in surprise, being so close to turning back to face the blonde boy. “What if I can do something?”

“Jimin we are over it - I won’t take any of your mo-”

“I didn’t mean that. I’m not that stupid to not understand first hundret times you made it clear.”” You turn at his clear voice, full of seriousness and unsaid promises. New thoughts fell over your messy mind, Jimin’s voice still ringing in your ears as well as the hot gaze he kept on you, fixated on your weirdly sluggish posture. You were more than confused, his help however not new for you, the sudden change of demeanor was like a bucket of cold water maybe pushing you into admitting that the boy indeed had some kind of solution. “Please try to listen to me first and please try to be open minded.” He adds taking a big breath making him close his eyes for a second, only to stare at you even more firmly, nearly hiding his shaky hands. A silent nod from you lighted once again the enduring fire of his eyes.

Now you were even more curious.

“What if I get you a client?” Innocent question, firstly confusing you even more with the weird words, the realization came with your mouth opening a look of disbelief crossing your eyes for a second even if you tried to remind yourself that you situation it's not the one to be judgy.

“You do-”

“Let me finish, please?” And you could not find the power in yourself to not give in. Looking straight into his gaze you closed your mouth, still hanging from the previous schock you experienced. “I was in the same place as you some years ago, a broke student without any help or hope - and I know what you want to say, but it's not as bad as it seems. You don’t even know how much I wish that at that time I had better option, but there was none and probably won’t be if I still want to chase my dreams The job is really not that bad, people don’t know, they do not need to know - even if they wanted the community of them would not allow it cause they want only that - discretion.”

You winced, the cold brushing your cheeks even more from the chill night, moon being your only source of light shining at boy’s figure like in some kind of movie. And to be completely honest, you indeed feel like in some kind of drama, emotions oozing from both of you in waves crashing in the middle with a tension to it. You didn’t want to seem rude, your face trying to stay some kind of neutral, however you knew that Jimin saw the first pull you unconsciously did, decided to let it slip instead looking at you with even more solemnity.

Yeah you knew about his past, history he one time told you in the middle of breakdown, then seemingly crazy and full of hardship, now you started to see yourself in the boy, his place now taken by you in the most awful way.

“It’s really not that bad Y/n” He whispers, voice full of softness you were thankful about. You felt breakable, the thought of actually doing it scaring you with how probable it really is. “I’m so sorry I can't do more, but it’s the only way I can help.”

You didn’t even realize when he came so close, touching your arm with his little bigger hands clenching it. Your eyes squeezed as your hands fell to your sides lifelessly, emotions now once again leaving you a little too suddenly, the grip you always had on your life slipping from your grasp with a gasp. It was hard, facing something you worked so long for only to ruin it because of such a thing as money. It was so funny, your own younger self laughing at you probably, telling you how your choices led you to that state.

“It’s really the end huh?” You didn’t need to look to know about the sad gaze he momentarily gave you. Arm sneaking around your shoulders, your posture seemingly smaller than normally, bringing you to the warm body of the blonde boy. Not a word said, only the silence being louder than aggressive shouting.

There was no need for a better explanation, your mind was already processing the idea of selling yourself to someone, and how shocking it could be that it never crossed your mind before. You can’t say the job disgusted you, you can't say it did not leave you with a sour taste on your tongue, like something is wrong with the image of you in such an environment again.

Again.

Well that was something that did not sit right with you, running away your whole life from it, now going back to the cave of a tiger - conscious suicade.

Face plastered on the surface of the brown coat, fluffy fabric brushing your face with every breath he took. The gesture leaves you with a heavy heart, not understanding why Jimin wanted to help you so much. Was it an obligation? Did he feel like he owed you something?

You just couldn't grasp the idea why, why was he so insistent, it’s only you in the end, a friend from the same coffee shop he worked in, someone who is not important in his life, someone who he will leave when the time comes. So why?

And maybe with the next gust of wind, a quiet whisper in your ear you realized deep down, that he was the first person in your life which genuinely cared for you. However the musky scent and heavy thoughts still repeated the same question, but you knew somewhere in your mind that it’s only a matter of time when the quiet suggestion will be proven.

“It’s getting late. You should go home.” A silent nod, your head still leaning on his shoulders, too tired to move. His hands petting your hair, a quiet hum leaving his mouth while he did it, melody not familiar, dancing in the silence of the night. You sighted taking one step back, immediately feeling a cold breeze hitting you, the source of heat now gone, making you shiver in the lighter clothes. Little smile screeching on your lips after you saw his worried gaze, sitting on your figure not planning to move.

“You too.” Sticking your hands into the big pocket of your hoodie, you turned your head in the way he came nodding. None of you moved, gaze met in the middle as you tried to not show how cold you really wera, body shaking in unnatural ways wanting to move for some kind of warm up.

He did not smile, even after your own stretched into a larger one, you decided not to pry and just turn around with a silent wave, head ahead of you eyes looking in the dark depths of the street where you lived. He knew you were not alright, gaze piercing you through every layer you tried to put in a situation like this, a copy mechanism you were not that proud of. And so with the head lowered you took the first step away not minding the still lingering stare on your shoulders.

The main worry now being the cold weather and little clothes that shielded you from it, the idea of the whole conversation put somewhere on the side.

However, he and you were pretty well aware of what is going to happen the next day.

In the end it's you who soon is not even going to possess own body.

----

Sleepless nights were not new, the feeling of tiredness you could not just wipe with the piece of the fabric a familiar one, the eyes trying to stay focused on things even though they were so hard to close themself for some sweet time, just to be forcefully open. Two words were enough for you to not hide the utter ache, you so perfectly masked in the middle of the coldest night.

And so maybe it was the cold keeping you awake in the dark, the blanket not enough to warm up your lifeless limbs, or maybe the lingering touches of the blonde boy that stayed even after so many afters after the whole conversation.

You felt weak, blinking in the grey room watching the wall like it would show something incredible, the scratches on it similar to the one you did when the stress was too much, decorating pieces of your skin like an art. The night was a big blur, hours now looking at the nonexisting stuff passed with a blink of an eye only to put you in another of the memories.

Blonde hair somewhere there scrolled in the side of your mind. Oh yeah, the said boy came the next day, look on his face too hard to forget as the next wall you built was just ruined.

He looked at you from behind his eyelashes with eyes dimmed with a sort of fog. Silence being the only comfort in the moment - early morning helping with it. He knew that this time the situation did not have many options, not any without any loss.

However he came, with a mind to let you help with thinking of any other ideas to help you, the conversation from the other night forgotten after he stepped in the gloomy apartament. And it doesn’t surprise you, the look you probably carried spoke for himself.

In his hands soon layed inconspicuously looking scrap of paper, tempting with his appearance like the most loucioust sin. He read it with squinted eyes, not needing a lot of time to find out what exactly the letter applied to.

What surprised him after such information is, how really the girl hid behind such an innocent facade, the new wave of respect crashed on him with the thought how strong you really are to not ask for help. The human thing was to linger, searching for attention so long to have someone finally do everything for us.

He had money, he had it so much that he could easily help her for next month, but he knew how every proposition like that would end up.

In the end they were really similar.

“Maybe there is another way.” He cut the silence, after a while regretting the action. Eyes met somewhere in the middle and both of their gaze was meaningful enough to answer his void of hope. “Have you tried to talk with the flat owner?”

Grimace on your face once again was enough, you shook your head remembering not the best meeting with the older man. “Many times. The guy is purely business oriented, he doesn’t care about your private life but if you pay everything - which as you can see I have a problem with.”

“I know that it’s a hard topic, but what about your family. There needs to be at least one person.” You looked down, carpet under your feets still fluffy and soft under your feet, the silence embracing you both. Jimin awkwardly scratched his arm, biting his lips in the process, the topic one again making your mood even worse. “Im sorr-”

“There is no need, it doesn’t matter anyway. My family is off limits when it comes to those types of things.” You cut him off, looking from the side at the little embarrassed boy. A sigh leaves your mouth as you lean on to your old couch, ruffling your hair after. “Jimin there is really no other way. Your option is the only thing I can do, even if the idea scares me.”

He looked at you with a small smile, the memories from his past coming back to him, when it was him who was sitting at your place, maybe with a different situation, but the fear in the eyes remained the same. He sat next to you, hand catching yours latching fingers with yours, as if that small gesture was supposed to pass everything.

And maybe it was like that, however how sweet and calming the motion wouldn’t be, nothing has been solved, and your decision it's going to change your life completely.

“You start to accept it with time.” He whispers tightening the grip on your head, the sentence seemingly had a bit more to the story. You guessed he tried not only to convince you both himself too.

Idea still fresh in your mind, hard to process it actually is going to happen, eyes meeting once again with the dark ones of the boy, millions of heistations flowing in the circle of your pupils.

“What If I don’t want to accept it? Jimin, I'm going to sell myself like some kind of animal.” You started, soon seeing how every word pierced the boy, a hurt crossing his face for a while. However he himself knew how his job was not something to brag about, something that should be kept to yourself.

“First - you are not going to be a prostitute, it’s their job. Second - you are not selling yourself, your body maybe, your time - yes. This whole messed up business, which no one truly understands, it's not only based on pleasure and successful bargain. The people you are going to provide services will require more, however you too will be able to demand - and that’s the difference.” He instinctively stood up, turning his back to you to hide his face for you.

You decided not to question that, the topic probably being equally hard for him. Following his figure, you listened to every word which could calm your buzzing nerves.

“Mone-” You started trying to guess about the demand he was talking about. The cash suggests itself in your mind. The boy quickly turned back, dark eyes catching your breath in the middle.

“Respect.” He finished, taking an earlier abandoned cup of tea to his hand. You were confused, your gaze spoke for himself, the utter questions building with every quiet minute he left you with. “Do you know why so few people are able to survive in such a business, or why so few people know about it?” He asked knowing fully he won't get any answer from you. He sighted brushing his blonde hair back, a little oliy from the last day of work, he came to the other side of the room sitting on one of the smaller tables just before you.

“You will need to play a role, you will become an actress in real life without the power to question your own character. People that are directors in fact are going to be your clients, giving you the script you will need to act on. In the beginning it’s going to be hard, but with time you will understand that you can either love it or you are someone who is not suitable for such a job.”

So many questions, which only bundled up with the said words. A weird twinge in your heart, forcing you to stop thinking about it like a sweet temptation, however the beautiful words he wrapped everything with stronger. The idea seems so easy, so free and so good, too good to be true.

You looked at him, the tiredness hitting you suddenly but so many not arranged issues kept you on your toes, so with the remaining power you sighed rubbing your eyes. You decided, your last way out.

“How i'm even going to start?” The question filled him with a relife, not understanding exactly why, the thought of having someone close in the same job loaded him with unanswered happiness. He gazed back, the look making you sit more comfortable forcing your attention directly at him.

“The clients are mostly the people you least expect to. Although they are not people which can afford a whore - lame millionaires or self-proclaimed gangsters. Don’t get me wrong but if they were them they could have just bought the random first person that is willing to do everything they want, for them however the most important is discretion and loyalty.” He started, stopping for a while to take out his phone and quickly search something on it.

With one move he showed you a picture of a man, you strangely knew. Black hair, similar to the blackness of the sky so different from the boy sitting just before you and a beautiful porcelain looking skin. He looked proud, even as a imagine the frozen photo oozing of confidence and power.

You knew those people pretty well, a little too well. Too proud for their own good and too proud to admit their wrongs, making money in such a way to not get attention if they are dirty or not. Familiar contempt towards others. You tried so hard to run away just from people like that, you hoped the clients Jimin was talking about are just the little CEO’s, not that important or dangerous.

And how ironic it was that you yourself are going to willingly put yourself in such a toxic environment again, people that are more influential than politicians and authorities. Next question popping on the side, how the blonde boy survived there without any knowledge.

“I see you can guess about who i’m talking about, and It’s not your first contact with them, right?” He started, brushing his hair once again, a habit you noticed. He needed to admit that your expression put him in uneasiness, look on your face nearly scared like a child that watched horror for the first time. He didn’t want to annoy the topic, leaving it in the air with the restless tension, instead he closed his phone hiding it back into his pocket.

His eyes still on you, your mind somewhere else as the quietness of the room started to spin around. The unanswered question lingered on your tongue, kept in the end of your mouth like some kind of secret. And as you thought it’s the end, the little ping came from the pocket he put his phone into.

“Well, I don’t know If you are interested but there is someone who is willing meet.”

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dancingamongstdust · 3 years

Text

MHA Scenarios - First Meeting (Part 4)

Requests are still open as of this post.

Shigaraki

You hadn’t meant to cause that level of destruction. It was an accident.

But they hadn’t seen it that way.

Their words followed you even when they could not. You could hear the accusations ringing in your head whenever you used your quirk – for better, or for worse. It became easier to ignore as you slowly learned to stop caring.

Until your quirk went out of control again.

You woke up in a dark room with a pounding headache and exhausted limbs. The doctor who was looking after you (a man you were relatively certain had no actual medical knowledge) had gotten very close and asked how much you remembered. When you informed him that it wasn’t much, he had smiled.

“Well, you certainly drew attention to yourself,” he had laughed. “Perhaps you should consider yourself lucky that the heroes didn’t get to you first.”

“I guess so…”

Something warned you that this situation was more dangerous than it seemed. Your eyes drifted over the covered windows of the room and you stared at the door. “Why did you help me?”

“Well that’s hardly for me –“

He didn’t get a chance to answer before you dashed for the exit. The doctor’s quirk didn’t allow him to grab you and his alarmed shout was all you heard before you were darting down the hallway. You weren’t going to stick around and get experimented on.

You turned the corner, heart pounding in your chest. They must have given you something because you felt drowsy. The entire world was spinning.

But you had to nearly trip yourself up to avoid running directly into somebody as you sprinted down a different hallway.

This was hardly your first time dealing with villains and many of them had odd quirks, to say the least. It shouldn’t have shocked you to see somebody with a human hand on their face but maybe the medication was lowering your tolerance because it was terrifying.

“Who are you?” you snapped out, immediately on the defense. You took a step away, ready to run or fight, whichever seemed easiest.

The man didn’t seem too bothered by your snap at least; the one eye that you could see watched you steadily from behind his hand mask. “I’m sure you’re not meant to be running around here,” he said. “But you’re no hero so you must be here for your quirk. Do you still have it?”

Your heart skipped a beat.

It wasn’t unknown in the underground that there was a man who stole quirks he liked. Nobody knew what he did with them but it wasn’t unheard of for villains to wake up with nothing. And you would never get them back.

You could feel your quirk was still there. It pulsed under your skin like a warning.

“My quirk?” you repeated. “I have my quirk.”

You did a random gesture, summoning all of your past acting experience to appear horrified when nothing happened. Again and again you tried before looking around in shock and horror.

The guy bought it and he shrugged. “Then there’s no reason to stop you.” He brushed past you and continued walking. “Not like you could find the exit anyway.”

The moment he turned the corner, you dropped the act and bolted again. This place was a maze but you found the exit and avoided any encounters with a practiced ease. Before leaving, you looked back up at the building and grimaced, hoping to never see it again.

Toga

It was late at night when you had the strangest encounter of your life. Not that that was a bad thing necessarily but it was something that occurred, nevertheless.

You had been feeling quite exhausted from a long day of fun with your friends. They had headed off to get a cab when you had realised that you needed the bathroom and disappeared to go find one.

There was a public toilet not too far from the street though it certainly wasn’t as clean as you would have hoped. Not to be deterred, you slipped in and found a sight that, even to your exhausted mind was uncomfortable.

A girl stood in front of one of the mirrors, blood staining much of her face. It covered the counter beneath her fingers and seemed to be coming from her lip.

“Are you okay?!” you asked, panicked.

She looked up at you, startled. Her dark hair covered much of her expression but she seemed a little out of it. Maybe she got hit on the head or something.

“I –“ she paused, her voice croaky and sore. She brought her hand up to rub her throat. “I think so.”

“Just wait, let me help you,” you said. You rushed into one of the stalls and gathered up some toilet paper. “Do you need me to call somebody or?”

“No,” she said quickly. “No. Thank you.”

You offered some of the damp tissue to her and she started wiping it away from her mouth. While she dealt with that, you cleaned the blood that she had left on the counter, making sure to get it out of all the cracks in and around the sink. “What happened to you?” you asked. “Did somebody attack you?”

“I slipped,” she said. “The tiles are really slippery and I think that I hit my mouth on the sink. It’s all kind of blurry.”

“Don’t worry,” you said, digging through your bag and grabbing some headache tablets. You offered the bottle to her. “Take two of those just in case. Even if it doesn’t hurt now, you don’t want to wake up with a headache tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” she said. “Do I still have any blood on me?”

“Just on your jaw,” you pointed out. “Come on, my friends and I are getting a cab. We can call one for you also if you need.”

She took one last glance in the mirror before leaving. You had forgotten your own need for the bathroom and it was for good reason also. If you had hung around for a little longer, you may have seen blood trickling out from one of the stalls. Perhaps then you wouldn’t have been so worried about this stranger hitting her head.

“What’s your name?” you asked as you looked around for your friends.

“Toga,” the girl said, though she didn’t seem too happy with having told you. The words must have slipped out without her meaning to.

You gave her your own name and went up onto your toes to look around the crowd for your friends. Eventually you spotted them and waved but when you spoke to Toga, she didn’t respond.

She had disappeared into the crowd.

You went back into the bathroom and checked but she was long gone. Just like how the blood has escaped your notice earlier, you didn’t see the blonde watching you from the other side of the street, her head tilted a little.

Dabi

It was a rare day when you found yourself alone without at least one person to watch your back. You didn’t always need the protection but sometimes, it was nice to have.

But you had given your word and it wouldn’t do to back out of this now.

The building where everything had been organised was old and crumbling – its ancient nature hidden on the outskirts of the city and slowly becoming overtaken by countless plants. It wasn’t somewhere anybody with good intentions would find themselves.

You liked to think that your work was good. It benefitted many and took only from those who could afford to lose it. Unfortunately though, rules had to be broken for the best results, and sometimes what was classified as ‘wrong’ turned out to be needed in order to achieve a goal. It wasn’t quite in line with what you believed but it had to be done.

Did working with villains make you uncomfortable? Of course. But it was hardly going to be something that stopped you from moving forward.

The two members from the League of Villains that had been sent to meet you were both men. You didn’t bother with greetings, just holding up the briefcase that you held.

“I’m looking for a specific artwork,” you said. “I’ve been told that you might be able to help?”

“An artwork?” the one asked. He wore a white and black mask that concealed most of his face and an extremely gaudy costume.

“Not just an artwork,” you explained. “It has something of mine hidden in the canvas. Normally, I would just get the police involved but if they found it, it would be quite problematic for me. The group that stole it won’t listen to many but the League of Villains, I’m afraid. They have a few good quirks and they’re extremely cocky for it.”

“We’re not lapdogs,” the other man said. “Especially not for whatever agenda you’re pushing.”

“I don’t pay lapdogs,” you acknowledged. “Consider me a sponsor.”

Flames cackled into existence in his hand, surprising his colleague enough to jump a little. “Chances are, they’ve already found your thing. Even if they haven’t, the league can hardly go around picking fights with random gangs.”

“Shigaraki did ask –“

The masked man was cut off by a glare. Blue flames sent flickering light through the air as they waited patiently for your answer.

“If it’s already been discovered or if it happens to get damaged during the process, then I don’t plan on getting anything out of our deal. It’ll simply be a loss on my side.”

The flames slowly flickered out and you allowed yourself to breathe again. Confidence was a requirement for these deals but you didn’t quite have the nerves of steel that you portrayed. It was always a fight to keep your reactions in check.

“I guess if we happen to bump into the group, we can check around for your shit.”

You knew his bluff as well as your own. The League of Villains had always worked well with those who had money. They required funding and wouldn’t say no to being able to flex their reputation around the underground. It was almost needed with the way rumours were circulating.

It was less than a week after that encounter when you found your artwork sitting outside your home. Charred on the edges, it was damaged enough to make the art itself worthless. But your items inside were perfectly unharmed.

Not bad for your first time working alongside the League of Villains. It was worth the cost… you should do it more in the future.

Twice

When you had been called in for this job, you had no idea that it was going to turn into a fight of the magnitude you experienced.

Flames tore along the streets. They melted lamps and trapped hundreds inside buildings – the screams for help becoming almost deafening as you broke down yet another wall to get civilians out. It was the third building you had had to smash into and there were more yet.

Nobody could get out and, if they remained trapped, they wouldn’t survive much longer.

When your partner and you had realised you were dealing with the League of Villains, you had immediately called in the big guns. What you hadn’t realised was that doing so would result in a brawl of sorts in the streets. The League of Villains didn’t care about collateral and honestly, sometimes you wondered if the heroes did.

You were starting to overheat. The amount of fire swirling around was getting to you, drawing the breath from your lungs and slowing your movements. Its angry blue nature hinted at its abysmal nature.

The next building’s walls took even longer to get through but you managed it and a few people scrambled out. You ushed as best as you could although it was starting to get hard to speak.

But then you noticed a dark figure lying in one of the rooms

Outside, the fire roared and smacked against the walls but you couldn’t just leave somebody there. You stepped over the rubble and made your way to the figure.

It was hard to make out details with the flames. The heat seemed to be getting worse as you approached – soon identified as being caused by the gaping hole in the wall. It radiated around the room in waves. You covered your mouth and nose the best you could, creeping forward to reach where the person was.

When you arrived, it took you no time to recognise that you weren’t saving an unfortunate civilian but rather a member of the League itself.

You hesitated for a second before hooking your arms under his and beginning to drag him away from the danger. This was the type of thing that lost reputation for heroes. Civilians didn’t like seeing villains being rescued but you honestly didn’t care.

If he was left there, he was probably going to end up dying.

Though he had seemed unconscious, when you got him out of the building, he muttered something and moved. It was enough to make you jump back but he didn’t attack or anything. He just touched his face and then let his arm go limp again.

You moved back cautiously. His suit had been ripped on the one side, missing its arm and half of the torso. You checked his pulse, relieved to feel that it was still going, even if it was unsteady.

“Can you hear me?” you asked.

He didn’t respond and you reached up to remove his mask. His hand immediately snapped up to grab your wrist and you prepared to activate your quirk but all he did was push your arm away from his face.

Alright then. No touching the mask.

You bandaged the open wound on his side as best as you could. It looked like he had gotten launched through the building. Once he was as stable as he could be, you moved him to a safer area and jumped back into the fray. A ton of rescues later and the heroes had won, at the destruction of much property.

And, rather unsurprisingly, the villain you had saved was long gone.

Overhaul

There was a new drug running around the market. You had heard of a number of small-time villains taking it – most of them dying shortly after consumption. It wasn’t unheard of. If something had even the promise of a good time then it would attract thousands.

But what was a problem was that you had lost several of your newest underlings as a direct result of this drug.

Given how picky you were about hiring, this was going to be a problem.

You tracked the source to none other than the Shie Hassaikai. They were an old branch of the yakuza, sitting on the edge of a downward spiral into irrelevance. Rumors followed that their boss had fallen quite ill and now, it was only a matter of time until they fell completely on their faces.

So you didn’t feel too nervous when you approached the house that fronted their main base. Even with the members watching you from the bushes, you kept a straight line.

You weren’t unknown. It would do them a great disservice to attack you.

And they knew it.

You walked in the front door with absolutely no resistance and remained unsurprised when two masked men came out to greet you. They didn’t ask about your business or enquire as to who you were. Instead, they led you into a sitting room and gestured for you take a seat.

Instead of that, you walked around the room and picked up everything that looked interesting. Nothing was hidden around but you hadn’t expected there to be.

“Please don’t touch things without gloves on,” a smooth voice interrupted your curiosity. “Cleaning this entire house is rarely needed and I’d rather you didn’t change that.”

You turned around to find somebody considerably younger than you had expected for the head of the Shie Hassaikai. He wore their signature mask and a feathered coat, almost his entire body hidden in some way.

“Not a fan of germs?” you enquired.

“Not at all.”

You shrugged and made your way to the couch, sinking down into it. “Guess that means no drinks or anything? Oh well, that’s too bad.” You gestured for him to sit. “So, you’re not who I was expecting.”

“You’ve never worked with our organisation before,” he said, sitting on the edge of the chair opposite you.

“No. You’re not in the same line of work as me and I don’t care too much about the Yakuza.”

“Then why are you here?”

You straightened, aware that you were about to get into the most dangerous part of the meeting. “Your drugs have been getting into my areas. Now, I don’t care all too much about how you distribute stock but it’s not just coming into possession of low-life criminals. My men are getting practically gifted it.”

His eyes narrowed. “We need to test it somehow. Besides, that sounds like a problem for you, no? Have better control of your men.”

“Keep your test tube shit out of my territories.”

A small staring contest took place – a test to see who would break first. You had been in almost a hundred of these over the course of your career. They didn’t bother you much at all in anymore.

Eventually he waved his hand through the air. “I guess we could stop supply to traders in your areas but this isn’t a charity.”

“I could kill your men.”

“But you would lose your own in the process. Wouldn’t it be easier to do this the peaceful way and maybe even establish a relationship between our two groups?”

“You have my attention. Don’t waste it.”

Kurogiri

There are those days when everything begins so well only to rapidly spiral into a situation out of your worst dreams. This was something like that.

You had gotten horribly caught in the crossfire of a battle between heroes and villains. It all occurred faster than you could have ever imagined – flashes of light and explosions of sound. People were screaming, the sound coming through a haze as you tried to get a grasp on what had happened.

Blood was trickling down your arm but you felt no pain. You slowly lifted your head. Something had hit you, you remembered that now as your brain caught up to the dull ache coming from your ribcage.

You tried to move, finding that you couldn’t. The ache became worse and a heavy, scraping sound interrupted your attempts to crawl away.

It was a piece of concrete, heavy and painful, pinning you effectively to the ground. A smaller chunk was holding it up and stopping you from being crushed. But if you moved too much…

You forced yourself to take a deep breath, nearly choking on the dust that filled the air. Maybe if you shifted slowly.

A crunching noise made you hiccup.

Alright, so that wasn’t going to work either. You strained your eyes to see through the carnage but you couldn’t make out any heroes. They would come eventually; you just had to wait patiently and try not to move too much.

The concrete seemed to get heavier still and you fought the desire to cry.

There was a crunching sound. You couldn’t just wait around.

Slow as you dared, you began to inch forward. The rough surface snagged at your clothing and made every centimeter feel like it was going to end with you crushed. Worse still, the more you moved, the more apparent the injury on your back became.

The blood that had been trickling down your arm was now creeping along your torso. It pooled in your clothes and made everything sticky.

You tried not to think about it but it made you light-headed regardless.

About half-way out, you spotted somebody nearby. It was just their silhouette but still, relief flooded your veins and you cried out desperately for help.

The figure made its way over to you, soon revealing that the man was almost entirely made of smoke. He wore a suit and tie but his body swirled as though only somewhat solid. Bright yellow eyes stared at you – any emotion behind them was completely unreadable.

His eyes traced your shape. “You’re not who I’m looking for.”

“Please help me. This thing’s going to crush me.”

He paused, the swirling darkness that made up his face shuddered as though it was unsure how to respond. “I should leave you here,” he mentioned. “You’re of no consequence to me or to my cause. If anything, I should add pressure to the piece of rubble and make sure the fatality numbers are higher.”

You caught of whimper before it could escape. “Please.”

His smoke shook again, almost as though he was struggling to keep hold of it. Then he raised a foot and placed it on the concrete.

You screwed your eyes shut and tried to imagine the best parts of life.

A loud horn blaring made you open them again and a surprised yelp escaped as you saw tires race past in front of you. People were shouting, their voices loud and nearby. Bright lights surrounded you and the air was clear once more.

The last thing you remembered seeing was a panicked nurse rushing over to you.

#my hero academia #mha #bnha scenarios #bnha x reader #shigaraki x reader #dabi x reader #toga x reader #twice x reader #kurogiri x reader #overhaul x reader

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heloisedaphnebrightmore · 4 years

Text

His passion [Oliver Wood x Reader] 18+

Title: His passion Pairing: Oliver Wood x Female!Reader Word count: 2.4k Published: 23 October, 2020 Author: Heloise Daphne Brightmore Warning: Explicit language, Pure 18+ SMUT, please do not read if you are under 18. Disclaimer: Both characters are of age! Summary: Oliver has been walking up and down the room half naked, going on and on about Quidditch for the last hour and you are losing your patience, up until you turn his attention to you.

Harry Potter Characters Masterlist | Masterlists

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Oliver was always a leader type of person. His classmates looked up to him, his housemates respected his mere presence, his friends asked him for advice, his quidditch team listened to his every word, doing exactly what they were told – most of the times at least, sometimes with a couple of eye rolls included.

There was only one person who never succumbed to Oliver’s leading demeanour and that was you. You were confident, bright and just as much of a leader as he was. Your relationship was well balanced, sometimes you made decisions, sometimes he initiated things.

It was no different in the bedroom. Roles were always switched up, toys used to find each other’s limits. Oliver wasn’t an innocent little boy, nor were you. But it was noone else’s business, things stayed behind closed doors.

Oliver was rambling about the quidditch practice for the last hour, annoying you to no end. You loved his passion, it was present not just in the sport, but his relationships with his family, friends and well, you and your sex life.

You tried to listen to his non-stop complaints, but the boy didn’t seem to want to stop any time soon and his half-naked, toned body, only wearing some old sweatpants, didn’t help you to concentrate any better. Your eyes wandered to his muscled forearms, imagining as he held your hands above your head with one hand, his other buried between your thighs, his fingers showing you pleasure you never knew existed. You shook your head, trying to focus on your boyfriend instead of your currently inappropriate thoughts.

He kept walking up and down his room, his hands flailing around, growling in anger. His voice reminded you the way he groaned your name when your mouth was wrapped around his length. Your thighs rubbed together involuntarily, trying to get some friction at your dirty thoughts.

You heaved a deep sigh, feeling fed up. You stood up from the side of his bed, your damp panties making you groan. His simple presence could cause a whole pool in your underwear and he didn’t even realise it. You scoffed at your silly behaviour, waving your wand towards the door as the lock clicked, followed by being covered by a silencing charm.

You placed your wand beside the bed, on top of the wooden nightstand, before you started removing your tie, throwing it at the headboard of the bed. You unbuttoned the first four buttons on your white uniform shirt, revealing the black laced bra you were wearing underneath.

You walked up to the boy, whose attention was still focused on the stupid game. You didn’t necessarily think it was stupid, hell you loved quidditch, but Oliver was beyond annoying and his ignorance towards you, the way he made you feel, the thoughts he made you think, earned your dominant side to resurface.

You were standing in front of him, your shirt revealing more than it was supposed to, your cleavage on full view, but he seemed to be more interested in his own ranting. You grabbed his hips as he turned back to you and pulled him flush against you, your breasts pushed against his chest. His eyes widened in surprise; his breathing hitched as he realised what was going on around him.

His eyes wandered down to your lips, before continuing to explore the exposed collarbones, stopping right at your cleavage. His tongue darted out of his mouth, wetting his lips. His eyes were filled with lust, his facial expression screaming how much he wanted you, his breathing shaky. You bit into your bottom lip in anticipation for a kiss, but he didn’t move. Slowly, but steadily the boy started getting on your nerves.

You stood on your tiptoes, forcefully smashing your lips against his as your hand grabbed his neck, pulling him down to you. You ran your fingers through his soft, short hair, tugging on the ends you could hold, making him groan into the kiss. His arm sneaked around your waist, pulling you against him even closer, leaving no more space between your bodies.

You started backing him towards the bed, the boy letting you lead without hesitation. Quidditch was long gone from his mind, he could only think of your naked body melting together with his, making you scream his name in pleasure. His hands wandered down to your butt, firmly grabbing them.

Your kisses trailed down to his neck, finding his most sensitive spot, gently biting it, before sucking on it to sooth the stinging pain. He could barely focus on his surroundings; his complete attention was on you. He didn’t even realise when the back of his knee pressed against the edge of the bed, only when he fell back on the mattress. He pulled you down to him once again, capturing your lips with his, squeezing your butt as you placed a knee on each side of him, straddling his seated form.

You moaned into the kiss as you felt his erection under the thin material of his sweatpants. His lips trailed down to your neck, leaving open mouth kisses on the surface of your soft skin, grazing it gently with his teeth as he saw the little goosebumps appear on your skin. He chuckled into your skin, enjoying the effects he had on you.

You groaned, not wanting him to take control. You started circling your hips in his lap, his fingers harshly digging into your hips.

“Don’t play with me, love.” He moaned as he struggled to stop your moving hips.

“I have been listening to your rambling for the past five hours. Just shut it, will you?” You spoke as you pushed him down on the bed, pecking his lips. He started backing up towards the headboard, somewhat enjoying your dominance over him. A naughty smile appeared across your face as a sudden idea came to you. The boy halted as his head almost hit the headboard. You crawled over him, straddling him once again, before reaching for your wand beside the bed.

He furrowed at your action, but he didn’t have time to question it. Before he realised it, you waved your wand and his hands were captured above his head to the headboard with your tie. He groaned, annoyed at the situation he found himself in.

“How am I supposed to touch you like this?” He asked with a deep groan. An innocent smile appeared across your lips as you shrugged in a reply.

“You are not.” You giggled as you moved your hips. He threw his head backwards, trying to ignore the frictions you created between your bodies.

“Come on.” He breathed as he tried to free his hands, tugging on the ties, but you just giggled.

“It’s not as fun to be tied up as it seem, am I right?” You smirked proudly as you leaned down to him, kissing him passionately, before you pulled back, leaving him wanting more.

“Leannan, please, not now.” He groaned, but you were not one to just give up. You started slowly unbuttoning your shirt, before throwing it on the floor. Oliver’s eyes darkened at the sight of your body, his eyes admiring your breasts hidden behind the laced bra.

“I love it when you beg.” You chuckled as the boy rolled his eyes. You reached for his lips again, kissing him feverishly, craving his body more than ever. But you couldn’t give up just yet. You had a plan. You trailed down to his neck, sucking on the soft skin, his hips bucking up against your heated core. You chuckled at his impatience.

You continued leaving small kisses on his shoulder, his collarbone, before you reached his perked up, pink nipples. You licked one of them, your tongue swirling around the sensitive spot, a loud moan leaving Oliver’s lungs.

“Someone is enjoying himself.” You chuckled as you sucked on his nipple, a deep groan coming from him as your finger played with the other nipple, drawing little circles around it. You continued your way down the boy’s toned abs, admiring the fine lines. Quidditch wasn’t the only thing that helped him look like a Greek god, he loved to exercise on his own just as much. Sometimes with you, which often turned into a heated make out session. Or more.

You trailed down to his waistband, tugging on the trousers and boxer, slowly pulling them down, taunting the boy, whose eyes were fixed on your movements. You smirked as you looked at his dazed expression. He was completely and utterly under your spell.

You barely left his pelvis, when his length sprung out of the trouser, making you grin excitedly. Oh, how badly you wanted him, but you couldn’t just give in. Not just yet. You pulled down his sweatpants and underwear, throwing it on the floor, right beside your shirt.

You leaned down to his cock, licking across its length. Oliver’s breath hitched as his penis twitched under your slight attention.

“Eager, are we?” You giggled as you licked the tip, a deep groan leaving his mouth. He bit into his bottom lip, trying to suppress his voice.

“Just wait until I’m free.” He warned, but honestly, you couldn’t wait for him to get his hand on you.

“I guess, we will have to wait with that.” You smirked as you wrapped your hands around his cock, squeezing it gently, his hips bucking up against your hand, impatiently needing frictions. “Don’t be impatient, darling.” You teased as you moved your hand slowly up and down on his length, taunting the boy.

You leaned down, taking the tip in your mouth, swirling your tongue around the sensitive skin, before pulling back, his hips moving under you involuntarily. Your hands moved up and down as slowly as you could manage, your tongue barely touching his skin, teasing him.

“Please.” He breathed, begging you. You felt bad for him, but you enjoyed it too much to stop. His mindless state was worth it. You leaned down, taking his length in your mouth, the rest of it stroked by your hand. Your lips sealed around his shaft, your head bobbing up and down, speeding up the tempo as you heard his uneven breathing.

You felt his cock twitch in your hand, precum leaking into your mouth as you tasted him. His hips moved up against your mouth, waiting for the pure pleasure as he got closer to his orgasm. You could feel his movements getting sloppier, his climax nearing, his lips moaning your name, before you stopped abruptly and left his twitching cock.

An animalistic growl left his lungs, missing your lips around him. “Why?” He asked as his legs relaxed against the mattress, his chest falling rapidly.

“What’s the fun in letting you come?” You asked giggling as you removed his precum from the corner of your lips, before licking off the tip of your finger, his eyes following every movement of yours, his heightened attention completely focused on you.

You crawled up to him, kissing his lips, tugging on his bottom lip with your teeth, massaging his tongue eagerly. You wanted him just as much as he wanted you. You stood up from him, standing beside the bad. You didn’t remove your skirt, however you started slowly pulling down your lacey black panties, completely drenched in your juice. You held it up on top of your finger, looking at Oliver’s dazed expression.

You threw your panties on the floor, climbing back on top of Oliver, positioning yourself on his hard cock. However, you weren’t ready to let him enjoy himself just yet. You circled your hips around him, your fingers getting lost under your skirt as your started playing with your clit. A loud moan left your lungs as you felt your climax slowly build up, your hips moving faster around his length, his head falling back as he focused on the sensation, your voice causing him physical pain in his cock.

Your breathing quickened as you felt a knot slowly building up in your stomach, your movements getting lazy as your fingers played with your clit. You moaned louder this time, his name slipping out of your mouth. He groaned at the sight, your fingers buried under your skirt, your lips hanging open in pleasure, your tits bouncing above him. He gulped loudly, teeth gritting as he watched you come on his cock without even entering you.

You smiled sweetly as you came down your height, his eyes filled with lust as he tugged hard against the headboard. The ties seemed to be of good quality holding the boy’s muscles firmly in place.

You leaned down to kiss him, lifting your hips in the process. Oliver didn’t miss your little mistake. His cock twitched again as he entered you, making you scream his name in pleasure. You were supposed to be in control, but a simple mistake ended up being the biggest pleasure. You moaned as his hips sped up, his length buried in you fully. You wanted to lift yourself up from him, you wanted to tease him more.

But you couldn’t.

As if Oliver could read you, he snapped. The tie gave up against his strength, ripping the material apart, before he got hold of your hips, steadying you on him, his cock pounding into you harder, stronger. You were screaming his name, your fingers digging into his chest, your eyes closed as you felt the knot appear in your stomach, steadily growing as you felt Oliver’s pace quicken.

You couldn’t control yourself, your breathing was uneven, your body out of control, your walls tightening under Oliver’s movements. You were close, very close, Oliver feeling your climax building up as you squeezed around him, his name stuck in your lungs, throwing your head back, completely giving yourself to the pleasure, before you felt Oliver’s hot come fill you up. You fell onto his chest, listening to his rapid heartbeat as he ran his fingers through your hair.

“Fuck.” Oliver spoke, chuckling in happiness. You giggled at his choice of word; he was not one to swear often.

“I’m guessing you liked it.” You beamed up at him.

“Wasn’t that obvious, love?” He asked, hinting a kiss on the top of your head. “Anything that involves you, I love.” He smiled lazily.

“You are such a sap.” You smiled as you looked up at him with a tired gaze. He leaned down to you, hinting a small kiss on the top of your head, both of you trying to organise your breathing, before you even dared to collect enough energy to clean yourselves up.

Taglist: @nebulablakemurphy @iliveiloveiwrite @kalimagik @inkhearthes @accio-rogers @mytreec @levylovegood @izzytheninja @prongsies @ravenclea @msmimimerton (I wasn’t sure who I could add from my taglist, so I only added those who I was sure of being over 18 whether because I know them or because it was stated on their profile.)

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#oliver wood x reader #Oliver wood smut #Oliver wood x reader smut #Oliver x reader smut #Oliver x reader #oliver x reader fanfiction #oliver x reader one shot #oliver x reader imagine #Oliver wood #oliver wood x reader fanfiction #oliver wood x reader imagine #oliver wood x reader one shot #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter smut #harry potter imagine

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tofumedic · 3 years

Text

Brothers + Diavolo w/ a selectively mute GN!MC

summary: how well the brothers would be able to deal with you being selectively mute and how they respond to you talking to them !

Lucifer

Other than Diavolo, he may be the only one to know beforehand as helping in the organization of the RAD program, however it may only be overlooked if it is not present in any kind of record like schooling or medical.

When you first come into Devildom, your D.D.D. may be used as a sort of translation object between you and those present.

He is a little peeved in the beginning before you are able to explain it, he would regain his calm but would see it as a small setback to how he expected orientation to go.

Other than that he quickly learns about you and how you work so that he can work with you while trying not to dote on you!

The one that would gift you small portable whiteboards and markers if you had a preference over it for typing, professional though only dark blue and black inked markers <//3

Your first words to him are probably about answering a question or a summons, he does a lot of both but don't call him out for being clingy okay

Anyways

If this man is standing or getting up to greet you expect him to stumble, just slightly catching himself on the edge of his office desk or resting a hand against the wall

When he meets your eyes you can see there's a pinch of panic of "you did not just see that please tell no one" that melts back into "oh my god???????"

He's quick to relax back into what he wanted to talk to you about, not wanting you too feel anxious or guilty for however long it took for you guys to have a mutual trust and safety net.

For the rest of the day his face remains in this pleasant smile and everyone except Asmo and Beel are suspicious, Mammon being especially on edge.

If they call him out on what has him so happy today he will brush them off for being nosy about what isn't their worries but the small blush that rises to his face as he crosses his arms does not help his case.

Mammon

He is all of your noise

He gets forgetful and will try to have conversations across the house by yelling at you only to barge into your room in his petty fake anger just to see your face either amused at him or completely deadpan and he just ....🧍‍♂️

He gets anxious about leaving anywhere without his D.D.D. now what if his human needs him while he's not "bothering" you

Takes extreme pride in helping you order food when you go out places whether with his brothers or just alone, he loves it. Not only does he get an excuse to sit by your side and lean into your shoulder to see what menu item you're pointing at but it means he also has less worry about, he likes being close by to help you just in general.

Your first words are probably involving some drama he was mourning over earlier that day, probably with Lucifer or being the butt of the joke with another brother.

If Lucifer would stumble, expect this man to fully fall. God forbid you two are walking down the stairs instead of him rolling off the edge of your bed or just plopping on the carpet.

He would be so excited, his cheeks are burning even though you may have not even complimented him those words are gonna be ingrained to his memory maybe even written down in his notes app.

But he will downplay how happy he is that out of all of them he was the first you talked to, because of course it would be him the great Mammon and your first man it just made sense.

He's over the moon he won't flex it unless you start being verbal with more of his brothers he doesn't want them to pressure you into speaking no matter how much the urge bubbles up while Asmo is talking about how you would rather match outfits with him that others

Leviathan

He doesn't mind that much, at the beginning of your relationship he is very shy and doesn't really start talking unless something reminded him of one of his shows or games

Will gain a habit of just texting you instead of asking you a question outloud, just because he thinks its more polite and understands as in sometimes it's too much energy to open his mouth to speak

Teaches you phrases from his games, basically call outs, as an extra layer of code to let you know if you're camping out in his room that he is gonna leave for a package (going to spawn camp) or food (healing) etc

He does get jealous saying it's unfair about Mammon helping you order stuff in the "irl" while absolutely being too nervous to do it for himself as well

You two have your own codes for entering each others room, knocking to the tune of a popular sound effect from a game you play together for the ease but he enjoys when you try to do the beginning of an ost or girl group song and he tries to guess it

Your first words for him are probably you entering his room with some snacks or having picked up a package for him from his door, his response to you entering would be asking you to hold on this match or episode was almost done

So when you give out hum and either let him know you're staying or you're signing off (leaving) it's an insta-death, his attention is caught so fast

His posture extremely straight from his hunched focus as he speedquits his match closing every tab back to desktop before standing up on his wobbly legs and giving you the most affection he can handle of having that without warning

He gives you a small headbutt, pushing his forehead into your shoulder as he controls his breathing. He can't handle it that's like finale love interest marrying the protag and you hit him with it so lightly.

He wouldn't change his preference of texting you questions as it's something he's still comfortable with and you speaking to him makes him feel like he's reached masters rank without losing any matches

Satan

He is your best bet for knowing sign language, he finds it interesting that there are so many regional variations has tucked his knowledge of them into his big ol head

His movements would be hesitant as he's mentally dusting off the memory of practice but he is very good at it, though he wouldn't be more than only a pinch disappointed if you didn't prefer that way.

He be more interested in you in the beginning before learning about your magical presence and the pact hunt, it's unusual to him and he likes the study

Picks up small things that are unnoticeable to everyone but you about small habits and things that barely make it easier, like remembering to rebuke Mammon when he goes to order but forgets you don't like a certain ingredient and asks for it to be removed himself.

Would ask if you would like to learn Devildom's concept of sign language, maybe just quick easy signs for going about RAD tasks and classes

Your first words are probably said to him in the safety of his study, surrounded by books or even your homework while he reads

MC i love you very much but i feel like it would be something really stupid or cursed along the lines of

"I'm tired of people making Frankenstein's creature ugly he's literally written to be sexy" or "Why are people so attracted to Dracula he's supposed to ugly af >:/"

He would be.. very nonchalant about the fact it was you speaking to him and acting like he was talking to one of his brothers and going against you in the argument until he picks up those books to prove his side to be like "oh."

He needs a moment after such a not so public embarrassment so it would be later while you're both laying in your respective rooms and he's going over it in his head and then it hits him. It also hits that it was perhaps the most unromantic way it could have gone but it makes him smile into his pillow.

He has it as a secret weapon against Lucifer but he likes knowing something his brother doesn't

He can't look at you for too long the next day but will use the two figures of your mock argument to lightly bully you being soft on you in the comfort he wanted you to know was returned

"In case of argument, you would make a very good creation made in such a pleasing image"

Asmodeus

He is willing to fill up space for conversations for you also, he has a lot to say but will still ask you questions and for your input so you're included

He thinks the whiteboard concept is very cute! He would be the one to get you little accessories like a bag just for that and your markers or a strap for it. He would also be the one to get you more marker colors, you having just black and dark blue is unforgivable

Enjoys asking you how you're feeling, in a way that's easier if you didn't want to write or type it all out is giving him a number between 1-10. 10 is for your absolute worst like if you are having a day that you can't get out of bed or 1 where you're feeling really good like nothing can hurt you.

Doesn't force you to go out and party with him in case it's bad for your nerves or there's a worry demons will rude about "their advances being ignored."

Likes being close to you, so you can write in a notes app or use some other alternative other than texting where he might not see it getting buried by other messages.

Asmo would enjoy either holding hands or wrapping his arm around yours of your non dominant side, he makes good by staying on that side when he's going for affection or just to be in your bubble.

You talking to him for the first time would probably being during an outfit review or ordering new face masks off of Akuzon.

And he would melt, pelting you with kisses smothering every empty inch of your forehead, your cheeks, the bridge of your nose he's so happy

Whatever you were doing or looking at becomes his favorite, a fit he wears when he feels down to keep him happy, or using a specific brand of nail polish or face mask specifically due to the memory

Would find any lisp or rasp overwhelmingly adorable, of course it fits his angel you sound undeniably perfect. Loves how conversations sound with your two voices mixing together.

Beelzebub

He wouldn't completely understand but he isn't rude about it, his actions remaining normal to how he usually acts

If you wanted to learn their version of sign language he would try with you no matter if it was a struggle to fit into his schedule between the gym and spending time with Belphie and RAD and anything else but wouldn't want you to do it alone

He would keep you safe from anyone who had a problem with it, he's used to Belphie not wanting to talk to people other than him so he would be able to handle it especially if you two had similar gestures you used

Beel is also quite quiet in his own other from rumblings or dislike about being yelled at, he's good at still talking and holding his ground in arguments too but affection with him would be extra quiet compared to extra brothers

Your silence other than shuffles or small laughs, it's comforting like a sense of calm. It makes him think of your human dream catchers always quiet yet supposedly helpful and healing

You may verbally ask for a treat or some of his snack he brought for you two instead of a small gesture if your arms are trapped in the cuddle position you've been stuck in and any food he was eating would pause. Giving him a second he would easily give you all that was left

"Not hungry anymore" he would say his eyes warm before closing with his warm smile, he melts more into you like a jacket to let you feel how warm his heart was.

You were always special even if as an agent of chaos with some of the phrases you would drop, and he would adopt into his vocabulary and even further speaking for you in situations you couldn't

Belphegor

Belphie when you first met would give you a different gaze, in a slight squint almost breaking his image of being a helpless human but he would override it, continuing on like normal

At the beginning he may have even less belief in you getting pacts with his brothers but you still prove you're capable and things are normal for how he would treat you, not really changing just like Beel.

For a man (demon) to say actions are stronger than words, he certainly strains his ears just in case you answer his question in that way not that you would know and i certainly did not let you know ok??? cool cool

Other than that he really doesn't mind!!! You and Beel are really his top two people he has interest in being with and you being mute wouldn't change anything ! He may seek you more for naps outside of his room or the attic you don't move as much as Beel does as long as he doesn't curl up over your arms

In the privacy of one of your rooms- whether Asmo and Mammon are out on the town or in his while Beel is at the gym or somewhere else- is your first words spoken as softly as you can to him

Him laying across you with his head resting with his mouth close to your collarbone and ear resting almost on your neck he can feel the vibration in your vocal cords, you were probably asking him to move

Which you probably thought he was doing but any movement was so he could be closer to that feeling of your words if you spoke again, his knees tucking up while his toes curl

You wouldn't be able to fully process just how important that action was to him, you trusted him and felt safe and could let words out to him, after everything that was real forgiveness.

Diavolo

Him just looking over and encouraging you being chosen by Lucifer, he probably would not know unless again it was strongly present in your transcripts

He would find it interesting, it was your first surprise to him and filled him with mirth at the concept of seeing Lucifer tense in confusion his feathers absolutely ruffled

Though while you were already human which meant your interactions were sure to be interesting to him, the way you interacted was also completely different from Solomon, he would love giving you his time no matter how Barbatos would sigh already seeing it before it went into motion

It may mean a little extra work for Lucifer but he wouldn't complain he did a good job picking you for Diavolo to enjoy your company so much even if he was slightly worried on your influence on him

For doting only predict help with fixing the RAD program and making your class experience more accessible, if he tries to help too much someone would certainly have a word with him

He's known being compassionate, he just wants it to be easy for you as it is probably hard enough on you between the brothers, school, and being selectively mute

He barely uses his D.D.D. but if you prefer using that it's no problem though do give him awhile to type out his long messaged questions instead of asking them on call

First words with him may be said on a trip out to explore or in his castle during a private moment in the retreat or in his office

No matter the context it would be a mood booster, he would compliment you you're voice is perfect to him it matches the image you've shown so far

It's a delight, you never fail to surprise him he may repeat your words in his own voice laugh resting on his breath. He'd ask you to stay a little longer if he can get away with it, and if he can't he surely will try

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