#“Based on your likes” what fucking likes led you to recommend THIS??? What did I like that made the algorithm go:

[caterpillarinacave]

you’ll really see some of the most insane, alarming, out of this world thing on tumblr and your just supposed like. move on with life.

[distantdarlings]

HIS OWN MEDICINE Pt. 2 // t. nott x e. berkshire x m. riddle

RATING: R / 7.1K WORDS

Mattheo Riddle x Theodore Nott x Lorenzo Berkshire x Fem Reader Insert

+ SUMMARY - *Requested, based on this* After Theo cheats on you one time too many, you go to his and your friends seeking comfort.

+ WARNINGS - (whoo boy, this is gonna be a lot) SMUT! Foursome (reader x 3 guys), Unprotected PIV, sub!reader, softdom!Theo and Mattheo, slightly roughdom!Enzo, oral (f! and m!receiving), fingering (f!receiving), fem reader, Eiffel tower moment, voyeyrism, masturbation, mentions of weed, smoking weed, mentions of alcohol, drinking alcohol, mentions of Theo cheating, Mattheo talks about beating someone up (not graphic), language, not proofread (lmk if I missed any)

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

HEAVEN AND BACK - Chase Atlantic

***Can be read as a standalone, but I’d recommend you read Pt. 1 to have the full story! Read it here.

- - -

You hadn’t learned your lesson. That much was painfully clear.

After weeks of little to no issue from Theo, you’d rounded the corner on the way to class to see him—arm raised flirtatiously, with his nose almost pressed against some random girl’s. The way she giggled in response to whatever he said led you to believe that he was talking some smooth shit.

You could still feel the way your cheeks flushed with heat like a fire. Your fingers had gripped so tightly around your books that your fingernails had pushed back against their leather bindings. Blood had pricked at the edge of your cuticles.

How many times were you going to let him treat you this way? Pansy’s question flashed through your head. Obviously, too fucking many.

You set your books down on one of the stone benches that lined the hallways and stomped right over to Theo and that stupid girl. You shoved him away from her, childishly knocked his books from his hands, and slapped him across the face as hard as you could manage.

A collective gasp spread around you like wildfire, silencing the mindless chatter almost instantly. Your breath heaved ferociously.

“See if I ever try to make this work again, Theodore Nott!” You shouted. With one last huff, you turned, gathered your books, and pushed your way back down the hallways to your dorm.

By the time Pansy found you, your sheets were already soaked through with salty tears that slipped onto your tongue every once in a while. Your lips were reddened and swollen, as were your cheeks. You probably looked like you’d been hit by a train.

“Oh, honey,” she sighed, collapsing against the bed beside you. This time, she didn’t try to hold you or talk you through it. She just rubbed your back and listened to your quiet sobs. She must have heard what happened earlier. There was nothing that happened in Hogwarts that Pansy Parkinson didn’t know about.

“I finally did it,” you gasped. “I finally ended it. Theo pushed me too far. How many times did I beg him to stop acting that way? I mean, even if he wasn’t seriously flirting—he upset me, so why couldn’t he fix it?”

“I know,” Pansy sighed. “It sucks, but I’m glad you stood up for yourself.”

“Me too,” you sniffled, turning your head to look at her. At this point, you just wanted to change into your pajamas and drink a couple of gallons of Firewhisky with her.

She turned and leaned over the bed, reaching past the mattress for her bag. When she got ahold of the strap, she lifted it and set it on the sheets. She pushed it toward you.

“I figured you’d need a pick-me-up by now,” she shrugged.

You rummaged through the bag before producing one large bottle of Firewhisky and a box of chocolates. It was as if she’d read your mind. You smiled in relief.

“Only if you enjoy them with me,” you said. She smiled in return, preparing to pop the cork off of the bottle.

***

If you could have gone back and time and punched yourself in the jaw, you would. It seemed that, lately, you’d had a habit of doing things in the heat of the moment—whether that heat was actual passion or the influence of alcohol, it didn’t matter.

Because at this very moment, exactly two hours after you finished off the bottle of Firewhisky with Pansy, you found yourself parked outside of Theo’s dormitory.

Your hand was poised, prepared to knock. Embarrassingly, you’d been standing like this for at least a couple of minutes, debating whether or not you should actually do it. You were definitely one to handle your liquor, but, you had to admit, you were tipsy.

A pleasant warmth was spread throughout your chest, making all of the lights feel just a bit softer and all of your thoughts just a bit bolder. The effect that searing drink had on your confidence was always one of immense power.

Finally, you swallowed what pride and sobriety was still cooped up in your head and knocked on the door.

A few moments passed—enough so that you had almost turned to leave, retreat to your dorm, and lick your wounds with another bottle of Firewhisky. But, just as you decided to ramp up for your walk of shame, you heard footsteps, a thunk, then the door swung open.

On the other side, leaning comfortably against the door like he owned the place—which he sort of did—was Enzo Berkshire.

“Well, hi there!” He smiled cheerfully, eyes tracing quite conspicuously down the length of your body. You could see every ticking movement they made as they halted and started over every curve on your figure. Your cheeks burned. “Have you come to talk to Theo? Because he’s not here.”

Your face deflated like a sad balloon.

“Oh, well, I guess I’ll try to catch him later. I’m sorry to—”

“Why don’t you hang out with us until he gets back?” he interrupted, eyebrows flying up innocently.

“Who’s ‘us?’” you chuckled nervously, wringing your hands before your legs.

He pushed the door open farther and stepped out of the way to reveal Mattheo Riddle leaned up against his pillow—one hand thrown so nonchalantly behind his head and the other nursing a half-burnt cigarette against his lips. He was undeniably one of the most gorgeous boys you’d ever seen. The only other competitors in the lineup were your stupid ex and Enzo—who just so happened to be his roommates. It’s like they put all of the tens into a bowl, shook it up with no other options included, and drew them to be dorm mates. It was fucking irritating.

But, besides that whole fiasco with you fake-flirting with Enzo and Mattheo a couple of weeks ago, they were still your friends. You had gotten to know them quite well alongside your relationship with Theo. They were great, funny guys. They just also happened to be devastatingly good-looking.

“Er, sure,” you finally said, nodding your head politely. “You sure I wouldn’t be intruding?”

“Not at all—we’re just having a smoke. Join us?” Enzo cocked his head towards the other boy farther into the room.

“Sounds great. What exactly are you smoking?” you joked, allowing Enzo to lead you across the threshold and into their dorm.

No matter how many times you were in this room, you could never quite get used to the overwhelming ocean of cologne that ripped through the stone bricks. It was overwhelming, but at least it was a good kind of overwhelming.

Enzo pushed the door shut behind you and locked it back. You pushed a strand of hair behind your ear, waiting awkwardly on him. Mattheo’s eyes were burning through you from the corner, but you chose not to look over at him quite yet.

“Make yourself comfortable—you’ve been here a million times.” Enzo placed a large hand gently on the small of your back and led you toward Mattheo’s bed.

Besides the boy, there was also a multitude of objects strewn across the duvet. A couple of snack bags, a few cans of soda, a packet of cigarettes, three or four lighters—all depicting women of varying modesty—and a large wooden box with a collapsible lid that Enzo called his “rolling box.” It didn’t take a genius to deduce the contents within.

In fact, upon closer inspection, Mattheo wasn’t smoking a cigarette at all. Stuck gently between his fingers was a neatly-wrapped bundle of herbs that blossomed out the end, creating a yellowish-tinted haze about his head. You inhaled, the familiar scent clouding your lungs.

How bad was it to drink and smoke weed at the same time again? You couldn’t remember. Without truly considering the consequences of the actions you were one hundred percent about to perform, you let Enzo sit you down on the bed beside him. Your back was pressed against the oaken footboard and your legs were crossed tightly against your body. Enzo threw an arm behind you on the footboard just like he'd done a million times before, but only this time, it felt different.

Whether it was the alcohol buzzing through your veins or the smoke that just filled your lungs through the joint Mattheo had leaned forward to place against your lips, you weren’t sure.

You inhaled deeply on the small thing, Mattheo’s fingers brushing your lips ever so slightly. His eyes watched you intently while his mouth parted slightly. You stared at the beautiful boy as he held the it still for you.

Had they always been so affectionate and patient with you? Of course, they had. That's why you got along with them even when Theo wasn't around. You were pretty sure, anyway.

Almost immediately after blowing the yellowed smoke into the air, your vision started to haze over. Enzo had always had access to strong weed in general, but being a wizard came in handy, especially when there was a tincture he could brew to increase the potency of the already bold herbs.

Mattheo smirked as he watched the substance seep into your brain. He leaned back against the headboard and watched through lidded eyes. You could see the redness already blooming around them, you figured you weren't far behind.

Enzo shut his rolling box with a tight slam and placed a new joint between his lips. His fingers gathered a yellow lighter from the bed and snapped it a few times, slowly producing a flame.

With his free hand, he protected the light as he lit up. His jawline accentuated perfectly as it jutted forward to hold the blunt still over the fire.

The tension in the air stirred around like a heady blanket. Between all of the different things swirling in your system and the natural hormones firing off inside of you, you were just about ready to grab Mattheo and kiss him as hard as you could.

You'd had a thing for him since you met Theo and Enzo—Theo had just snatched you up quicker. But your relationship with Theo had only slightly dampened your desire for the dark boy. Perhaps that made you as bad as Theo. The main difference was that you would never have actively pursued Mattheo while still in the relationship. Except for the one time you were trying to prove a point. Even then, it was faked. Mostly.

But now, you were no longer in a relationship. You had free run of the boys of this school, though there was only one you truly had your eye on. And he was smiling lazily at you through the smoke, lighting a fire underneath your abdomen.

Though you'd only taken a single puff of the herb, you were already feeling the effects pretty excessively. Mattheo and Enzo however continued to take multiple drags, building up their high. They'd obviously done this much more often than you.

“How often do you guys smoke?” you asked stupidly, trying to make conversation.

“As often as we can,” Enzo chuckled, leaning his head back against one of the footposts. His eyes closed comfortably and his throat jerked with his laughs. You'd love to just take a bite out of him.

You shook that thought away and turned back to Mattheo. “Could I have another?” you asked, gesturing lazily.

“Anything for you, mama,” he whispered.

He leaned forward just as he had before. This time, he placed his free hand beneath your chin and tilted your face up slightly. Your eyes met his with a hard intensity. Balancing the blunt against his thumb and forefinger, he placed the end of it between your lips.

You inhaled again, feeling the buzz light up your head. When he pulled it away from you this time, he placed it directly into his mouth and traced a stray drop of saliva off of your bottom lip with his thumb. His fingers still cupped your jaw.

Liquid confidence overtook your body and you darted your tongue out to caress along the pad of his thumb. His signature crooked smile cracked across his lips. At the split of your mouth, he pushed his thumb in and pressed down on your tongue.

Muscle memory from Theo kicked in. That, mixed with the fuzziness in your mind, had your lips closing around his finger and sucking. Your eyes held contact with Mattheo’s.

He clicked his tongue and smirked. “There it is,” he whispered. “Good girl.”

“You called that,” Enzo said. Your lips released Mattheo’s thumb.

“Called what?” you asked.

“That you’d listen so well,” Mattheo answered. “I knew from the minute you started going steady with Theo. You were always so obedient and loyal to him.”

“I wasn't—” you started.

“You were, baby, but that's okay,” Mattheo cooed, fingers tracing your jawline. He placed the blunt between his lips one more time, took a deep inhale from it, before reaching across the bed to sit it down on the ashtray in the corner.

Enzo appeared behind you suddenly, your back nearly pressed against his chest. You gasped slightly as his hand came forward to gently brush your hair behind your ear.

“It’s more than okay—girls who are obedient are rewarded.”

As if testing the waters, he pressed a gentle kiss to the connection between your neck and shoulder. You softly whined at the sensation, not having expected it.

Then, Mattheo was reciprocating the action on the other side of your neck. Both boys graduated from light kisses to hot, open-mouthed ones that sent chills throughout your body. You shuddered.

“Wait,” you whispered.

Immediately, they both pulled away and looked at you, eyes widened and waiting.

“Am I meant to take both of you?” you asked shyly, nearly giggling in the middle of the question.

“Only if you want to,” Enzo shrugged, moving out from behind you to garner a discussion. “We can each do something different.”

“It’s up to you, sweetheart,” Mattheo whispered, moving back toward you. He placed a slow trail of kisses from your shoulder to your jawline, where he paused and spoke directly into your ear. “Though, I know Enzo has been dreaming of your mouth.”

You pulled away and looked at him. “And you?” you whispered.

“What?” he asked, eyebrows knitting together ever so slightly.

“What have you been dreaming of?” you ask. His eyes flickered down to your lips then back up again.

“Let me show you.”

He pressed his lips to yours suddenly, muffling a gasp of surprise on impact. His hands slipped along your jaw and curled into your hair. You sighed against him as he leaned you backward.

He caged your body in against the bed. There was no escape from him—everything around you was simply Mattheo. His scent, his taste, the aggressive outpour of his sweetened breath as his hands began to slide down your body.

Sneakily, his knee separated your legs at the thighs and began to claim its position there a bit more astutely. Just as he was about to make contact with your core, just beneath your skirt, Enzo interrupted.

“Don’t be greedy,” he demanded, shoving himself into the space Mattheo had been in.

He hovered over you, overlooking your face with pupils blown absurdly wide.

“Have you been planning this?” you chuckle.

“In my fantasies, Mattheo usually wasn’t present. It was just me and you.”

“What were we doing?” you tease.

He leaned down and licked a stripe from the base of your neck to the shell of your ear. You shuddered at the feeling, eyes fluttering closed. “I was helping you forget all about Theo, baby.”

“Shut up,” Mattheo groaned, shoving Enzo’s shoulder roughly. Enzo giggled in response before placing his lips against yours.

His kiss was worlds different from Mattheo’s and even more from Theo’s. Still, it almost wasn’t comparable. Enzo was bold and dominating in his body language and the way he acted in any social situation, and it was clear that he was a similar type of lover. At least, that’s what you’d gathered so far.

Your hands curled into his hair, tugging gently at the chestnut strands. His tongue slid against your bottom lip, forcing its way into your mouth. He tasted like butterscotch. It seemed as though you recalled a jar of sweets somewhere on the bed when you walked in.

Mattheo’s fingers suddenly sank through your hair to your scalp. He massaged them along your skin, sending shivers down your body.

“What was that about being greedy, En?” Mattheo said. Enzo pulled away with a growl and glared up at the dark boy. Your lips were already swollen and mourning the loss of his warmth.

You looked up. Mattheo hovered over you, eyes gliding down the rest of your body. It seemed that, no matter how confident the boys were, they couldn’t quite find it in them to tear into you. As nervous as you were, their obvious nerves seemed to spur you on just a bit. With butterflies swarming your stomach, you made a decision on what the next move would be.

“So, when were you planning on starting?” you laughed. Neither of them said anything. You rolled your eyes and reached your fingers down to place against your buttons.

Enzo stifled a gasp and you began slipping each one through its eyelet. Once the pieces of fabric were completely split, you pulled them apart, revealing your body to the two boys. Nerves pounded in your chest.

The both of them stared for what seemed like hours, before Mattheo leaned down to press his lips to yours once more and Enzo began sucking rough bruises across your stomach. The two of them slowly worked the nerves out of your system like a knot in a muscle.

You rolled and turned over, facing Mattheo head-on but refusing to separate your lips. At the change in position, Enzo leaned back briefly onto his knees. He helped you pull the uniform shirt down your arms, while Mattheo’s tongue split you apart.

Enzo’s hands softly glided down your back, tracing the shape of your curves with the tips of his fingers. They moved lower and lower until they reached the waistband of your skirt.

You could feel him linger for only a second when his warm fingers pursed against the zipper and began to pull it down. A sigh left you as the zipper hit its base and loosened the material just enough to slip it down your thighs.

Enzo’s hands wrapped around your hips and pulled you back onto all fours. Mattheo’s head craned to continue to press his lips to yours. His kiss was hungry and demanding, like you were sustenance he craved. His fingers cradled your jaw, keeping your head pinned upwards.

“Matty,” Enzo groaned. “I don’t think I can wait much longer.” His thumb slowly traced down your slit through your underwear. Your back arched against him, heat blossoming within your core. You moaned against Mattheo’s lips.

Finally, Mattheo’s fingers gently pressed to your chin and he pulled away from you. He wished you could see how beautiful you already looked—with your cheeks red, eyes lidded, and lips swollen with his saliva.

“You want her mouth?” he asked, looking above you. His hand was holding your jaw, lovingly stroking along your cheek. Your forehead pressed against his abdomen. His free hand moved to your hair, nails scraping lightly against your scalp.

You felt so submissive beneath the two of them, almost reminiscent of that of a pet. You couldn’t believe how willing you were to do whatever these boys asked of you.

As they conversed above you, you thought of nothing regarding Theodore Nott. The only thing flying through your mind was Mattheo’s hands in your hair and Enzo’s fingers massaging your hips. You waited silently as they decided how to fuck you. Merlin, you were pathetic.

“Alright, sweetheart,” Mattheo whispered, tilting your head up to look at him. “I’m gonna fuck you and you’re gonna suck Enzo off, okay? Is that okay with you?”

You nodded, eyes stuck on his. He smiled softly—the warmest expression you’d ever seen printed on his face. As soon as Mattheo had gotten a taste of your skin, something changed in him. He was softer, gentler.

Enzo kissed a slow line up your naked spine. “Ready for us, baby?”

You nodded once more and, at that, they began to rearrange their positions. Mattheo pushed to the back of you whilst Enzo replaced his spot just before you. His hands replaced the other’s, caressing slightly calloused strokes across your cheek.

His thumb travelled down your lips, spreading them slightly in the meantime. When he pushed through your teeth a little bit and towards the back of your throat, he didn’t miss the small gag you stifled. The pad of his thumb traced a line from the back of your tongue to the tip, before placing it on your lips again. He smiled roughly, all sharp canines and snickering laughter.

Behind you, Mattheo’s hands mimicked Enzo’s previous movements. He traced your hips and the curvature of your ass, massaging the muscle and acquainting your body with his touch. Subconsciously, you leaned toward him, bumping gently against his core. You could feel his hardened length brush against you. He sucked in a small breath through his teeth at the sensation.

It was already nearing an impossibility for you to breathe just as they teased—you were almost frightened for the effect they would have on you whilst actually fucking you. You swallowed thickly.

“Ready, baby?” Enzo whispered, placing a gentle slap to your cheek. You nodded pathetically, desperate to get a taste of them in any way.

His hands fell to the tie around his waist that fastened at the top of his pants. He wore graying checkered pajama bottoms that framed his growing length so perfectly. He looked to be about average length but he seemed way thicker than anyone you’d ever had before. The thought of him working his way down your throat made you nervous.

His pants dropped and his briefs were soon to follow. His length sprung free and pressed against his abdomen. He groaned at the relief of pressure and pressed his hand against himself, rolling the skin about gently.

There was a moment of silence when he pushed down on himself to allow the tip to brush against your lips that Mattheo also slid your panties down your legs. The cool air slammed against your heat like a wave.

As you moaned at the sensation, Enzo took the opportunity to push himself into your mouth. Your next sounds were muffled.

Not a millisecond after Enzo had bottomed out halfway down your throat, Mattheo pushed himself into you from behind. You yelped and subconsciously moved away from the sudden intrusion, only to shove Enzo further down your throat. You gagged around him as your nose brushed his abdomen. He moaned aloud and curled his hands in your hair.

“Fuck, you’re perfect. I can’t believe Theo’d ever let go of this perfect fucking mouth.”

Mattheo began to build a slow, deliberate pace. He was so much gentler than you’d ever imagined. The reputation he had managed to obtain was one of a rough lover who didn’t kiss and only fucked from the back, but rumors didn’t always carry truth. It seemed that care punctuated each of his thrusts into you.

You moaned against Enzo as Mattheo hit every spot Theo never could. The vibrations from your throat caressed the boy before you in a way he’d never felt before. He gasped at the sensation, fucking his hips against your face desperately.

His complete disregard for the integrity of your throat led you to push farther back against Mattheo, forcing him farther inside you as well. It was a deadly cycle.

The consistent thrusts you were getting from both ends were almost enough to prevent you from hearing the loud crack that echoed through the room. Almost. Your eyes opened and glanced to the side to see Theo standing against the door.

He must have Disapparated into the room. Perhaps he’d been knocking and the three of you just hadn’t heard. Though, through the rushing of blood in your ears, it was a surprise you could hear anything at all.

Still, you saw him and he saw you—being torn apart from the inside out by his two best friends. You could hardly move your body, let alone try to alert the two of them that you had an audience. They had clearly not heard him, as they both continued their previous paces.

Theo watched—eyes widened, mouth agape—as your eyes began to roll to the back of your head. Mattheo worked you closer and closer to your orgasm.

Your eyes peeked at him, tears pricking the corners, to see something wildly different than you expected. You had been sure you were going to open your eyes to Theo storming forward, ready to beat the shit out of both of his friends.

That is not what you saw.

Theo’s uniform trousers were unbuckled and split apart, revealing the edge of his briefs that had been tugged downward. His cock was pulled from its confines and clutched tightly in his fist. He pumped it rapidly as he watched the three of you. The sight itself was enough for you.

You cried aloud as your finish washed over you in a giant wave. The clenching of your lips and the vibrations from your throat pushed Enzo over the edge.

“Fuck, perfect girl,” he groaned to the air. His head tilted back, golden earring glinting in the candlelight that cloaked your bodies.

Mattheo worked you through every second of your orgasm, which worked Enzo through every second of his.

Once the boy in front had completely released his spend down your throat, he pulled himself from your mouth. You let him go with a gasp—thick strings of saliva stretched between your lips and his body.

“Such a good girl,” he whispered, cupping your jaw possessively.

Before you could manage to wipe the spit from your flushed cheeks or warn the boys that your ex was in the corner jacking off to your current escapades, Mattheo quickly flipped you over onto your back.

You squealed at the motion, having not been at all prepared. He immediately caged your body in, hovering over top of you with a snide smirk on his lips.

“Can I have you all to myself for a minute?” he whispered against your ear, placing a gentle kiss to your earlobe. You giggled at the sensation, chills being spread down your arm.

“Whatever, man,” Enzo said. “I’m gonna light up again.” He leaned back against the head of the bed and grabbed the abandoned blunt that was placed carefully on the ashtray in the corner.

Having almost completely forgotten about Theo—between the drug in your system and the boy on top of you—you wrapped your legs around Mattheo’s waist and tugged him in closer to you. Slowly, he reentered you with a soft groan. The sensitivity below pushed a whine from you.

He placed a soft kiss to your cheek. One hand grasped onto your thigh as he fucked himself into you. His nose hovered just above yours as he watched your every reaction to his movements.

With every gasp and moan you let slip out, he’d mimic your sounds softly, but not in a mocking way—more like in an agreement.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted you?” he groaned. His pace was steady and unyielding. It was agonizing even, almost as if he intended on driving your pleasure out as long as possible.

“Do you know what it felt like watching Theo touch you every day? Watching him kiss you? Watching you sit in his lap?” he growled lowly, his nose brushing along yours with each thrust. You moaned at his words.

“That day you came up to me in the Great Hall…when you called me Matty…oh,” he groaned, crooked smile showing off his canines. “I knew I had to have you. Whether I had to wait a few days or months, I was going to have you.”

“Ugh, wrap it up,” Enzo said, holding his hand against his forehead, lit joint resting beneath his fingers.

You giggled just a bit at the stupid boy, before coming back to your senses a bit. Was Theo still in the corner?

Mattheo’s paced picked up a bit. Your head craned to look behind you. Enzo blew smoke toward the air. Your eyes attempted to adjust to the darkness in the corner where Theo had stood. Mattheo was hitting every spot you needed.

“Bite her neck while you fuck her.”

All three of you seemed to gasp. You paused and looked over, finally locating the looming boy.

“Shit!” Mattheo pulled out and scrambled to cover the both of you. Enzo tugged his briefs back up. You sat and stared, waiting for his next words.

“I don’t know why you’re all freaking out now,” Theo chuckled. “She saw me a good, long while ago. She knew I was watching.”

Mattheo and Enzo both looked over to you. You felt absurdly small beneath their huge gazes, like a little kid getting a slap on the wrist.

“I didn’t really mean to not say anything—I did try, I just tend to…forget things when I’m high.”

“And when you’ve got two dicks in you—ayo!” Enzo said, putting his hand up as if waiting for a high five from Mattheo.

The three of you stared at him in disbelief. At the realization that nobody was going to high five him, he shrugged and returned the blunt to his mouth.

“Yeah, well, did you enjoy the fucking show, you perv?” Mattheo scoffed, keeping the sheets pulled tight over you and him.

“What, you guys can have a threesome with my ex-girlfriend, but I don’t get invited?” he asked.

“Um, I think the important word in that sentence is ‘ex,’” Enzo piped up once again. You rolled your eyes and pressed your hands to your face. This had to be a nightmare.

“Ex or not, I still know what she likes,” Theo explained. “Now, if you want to make her cum quickly, you should bite her neck. Trust me.”

“Do you want me to ask him to leave?” Mattheo asked you, nuzzling his nose gently against the side of your head.

“No,” you said decidedly. You turned to Theo. “But, if you’re going to be here, you’re going to join.”

“What?” Mattheo and Enzo both echoed.

“I think it’s only fair,” you said. “Plus, it was you that suggested we have a foursome.” You pointed at Enzo. He shrugged and nodded as he recalled his previous discussion on the matter.

“I say, if everyone’s okay with it, he should join. Because if he tries to tell anyone, he’d have to mention he was a part of it. Or we could just tell them. He won’t tell anyone if he could criminalize himself.”

Theo’s eyebrows raised slightly. You didn’t want to admit that, after everything, you still missed his body and the familiarity he had with yours. But it was true. He wouldn’t tell anyone if he was a part of it. Granted, he likely wouldn’t have said anything anyway. Despite the end of your relationship, he still seemed to care about you. And you cared about him.

Mattheo and Enzo stared at each other, seeming to weigh their options. There was a moment of silence before they agreed. They nodded their heads.

You turned back to Theo. He approached slowly, eyes trained on you. Your stomach seemed to float within your abdomen as you recognized the look in his eyes.

No matter how many times he fucked you over in your relationship, he still knew his way around your body. He stopped before you. His fingers slowly lifted to cradle your jaw and tilt your face upward. His thumb slowly caressed over your bottom lip.

“I’ve missed you,” he whispered. You shuddered beneath his touch.

It wasn’t long before nearly everyone fell back into the previous headspace. Enzo came up behind you once more and began pressing loving kisses against your neck. Theo kneeled before you and watched your eyes closely.

He gently moved the blanket covering your naked body away, just slowly enough so you could stop him if you needed to. His head dipped slowly between your newly exposed thighs, his hot breath lingering so closely to your core.

“Theo,” you whispered in a kind of warning. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Mattheo watching the boy with an iron stare.

After what Theo did to you, you’d briefly spoken to Mattheo about it. It was only a small conversation in which you were crying so hard you barely got the words out and Mattheo just listened and let you sob against him.

Mattheo was there for you when Theo had let you down. And the fact that Theo was preparing to pleasure you like he always had before had Mattheo’s jaw was clenched so tightly you thought it might snap.

When his lips made contact with you, you gasped aloud. Your head fell back against Enzo’s shoulder, his mouth still sucking bruises into your flesh. His hands clutched at your breasts, massaging them strongly. The combined sensations were enough to make you lose your words.

Distantly, you could hear Mattheo huff. When your eyes opened to check on him, you noticed that he was looking toward the ground with his hands hovering between his knees. Jealousy pulsed through his body.

You wondered why he’d not been jealous until Theo walked in. You’d made it clear that you’d only included him to protect all of you. The last thing you needed was rumors of the three of you fucking each other floating around the castle.

He hadn’t cared that Enzo was touching every bit of you, because he knew that you didn’t care for Enzo in that way. But the wound from Theo was still raw, and your care for him still lingered.

“Matty,” you moaned, reaching your hand out to place against his cheek. He turned to look at you, eyes flickering over the pleasure contorting your face.

Enzo still rolled your breasts in his hands and Theo devoured you like a man starved. You reckoned Mattheo didn’t see a use for himself, but you did.

Sliding your hand down, you gripped onto the thin metal chain around his neck and pulled him close to you. Your lips pressed against his just as they had earlier. Your fingers tangled in his dark curls, urging him closer against you.

He pulled away from you. “‘Don’t want him touching you.”

You stared into his eyes, watching the affection in them swirl with anger. Theo’s mouth continued against you. You could feel your heat building to a point. Enzo had begun to roll his hips against your back, thrusting his length against your ass. He moaned lightly against your neck.

“He’s just getting me ready for you,” you teased, watching the flare light up in his eyes. You giggled softly, pressing your lips back to his.

Mattheo’s hand wrapped gently around your throat, caressing his fingers around the side of your neck. Enzo’s fingers delicately tweaked each of your nipples. Theo’s mouth consumed you openly until he pressed two fingers inside of you.

Your back arched and a moan left you at the sudden intrusion. Mattheo’s tongue split you apart as Enzo worked himself closer to his finish. You could feel his desperation in the thrusts he pushed against you.

Between the three men and the individual pleasures they each dealt, you found yourself closer and closer to your release. It felt like your entire body had been dipped in fire and storms echoed overhead.

Blood rushed in your ears as your brain began to shut off. Your eyes rolled backward as electricity sparked within your abdomen.

“I’m gonna—” you started.

Just as you were about to fall over the edge of your orgasm, Theo’s lips and fingers stopped. He pulled away from you.

You whined disappointedly and separated your lips from Mattheo. “Why?” you cried, your release teetering on the precipice. Your legs shook at the denial.

“Thought you might need a bit more,” Theo shrugged. He nodded toward Mattheo, and got to his feet. Was he serious? Honestly, you were a bit pissed at the thought of him passing you off like a gauntlet, but at this point, you just wanted to cum. It didn't matter who did it.

Mattheo stood slowly, letting the blanket fall away from his lap, and allowed Theo to take his place beside you. The dark boy settled between your legs, keeping steely eye contact. Your cheeks burned.

He slipped his hands beneath your thighs and gently perched them around his hips. He leaned in against you and hovered before you.

“Is this alright?” he asked. You nodded desperately, so ready for your release you couldn't stand it.

Finally, he pressed in and sank within you all the way up to the hilt. You moaned aloud, hands clawing at his back. Your eyes fluttered shut.

Your left hand blindly reached for Theo’s waist. When the four of you had begun to discuss everything, he'd pushed himself back into his trousers. He seemed to get the message, however, and pulled himself from his waistband.

Your fingers wrapped around his length and began to pump as Mattheo worked your orgasm back to its peak.

“Matty, I'm—so close,” you moaned aloud.

“Me too,” Enzo groaned against your ear. His hands gripped your hips as he fucked himself against your back.

Your thumb swiped over the top of Theo’s cock a few times, building that sensitivity he was so vulnerable to. If the four of you came at the same time, you imagined the room would start floating or something like that. Theo groaned at the sensation.

Then, seemingly taking Theo’s advice, Mattheo leaned in as close as he could go on the opposite side of you as Enzo and began to pound into you harder. His canines closed around the softest part of your neck and sucked. The sensation sent jolts of lightning down your body. You gasped aloud and arched into him.

Like a train, your release hit you harder than ever and spread across Mattheo’s stomach. Your eyes whitened for a moment, rendering you blind to everything that was not him.

Before you, Mattheo released a choked groan against your jaw and came within you, mixing your spends in a hot storm. You whimpered at the feeling, your nails scraping against his flesh.

Theo groaned as your hand rolled over his tip for the last time before his release was spurting against your hand and the bedsheets.

And finally, behind you, Enzo had rutted himself against you enough that he came against your nude back. He moaned breathlessly against your ear, his fingers stuttering restlessly on your breasts.

Several minutes passed before any of you even attempted to move.

Theo had fallen to his side on the bed and was borderlining a sharp snore. He rested with his hands splayed out and his shirt still partially buttoned.

Enzo had laid back with his arms spread above his head and sweat glistening down his chest. Deep pants pushed from his body. The way he had leaned had caused you to fall back as well. Your head rested against his thigh.

Mattheo had collapsed on top of you, his breaths heavy and lips pressing soft kisses to your chest every now and then. Your fingers absentmindedly brushed along his hair.

The boy laid over you waited until gentle breaths came from Theo and Enzo to start talking. When he was sure they were both asleep, he turned his head and rested his chin against your chest. His eyes watched you.

“Are you angry with me for asking Theo to join?” you asked softly, fingers still tracing through his hair.

He shook his head. “No, mama, I'm not mad at you. I understand why you did it.”

His fingers reached up to trace along your arms and collarbone. Again, his gentleness came as a bit of a surprise to you.

“What I don't understand is how you could keep going back to him when he kept treating you like that,” he scoffed. You sighed, leaning your head back against Enzo’s thigh.

“I can't explain it. He made me feel…special. I never felt that way unless I was with him. It was like… I felt like the only girl in the world until I got proof that I wasn't. But, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get that feeling from anyone else. So, it was to stay with Theo and feel on top of the world for a while, then occasionally get my heart broken. Or I could be in a relationship I didn't feel good in, and constantly think of him.” You sighed, embarrassed at how pathetic you sounded. You never wanted to rely on the boy, but your self-esteem had aligned itself with Theo’s loyalty.

“Hey,” Mattheo whispered. You glanced down at him. His eyes were trained on yours. “As many times as you've probably heard it, I would never do that to you. You are everything I have craved for months and for every time I shoved that dumbass against the wall and threatened to beat the shit out of him—”

“Wait? What?” you interrupted.

“What, you think I just sat by and let him act that way? I tried to beat some sense into him a thousand times over, but he just didn't listen. The fucker was persistent with his disloyalty, I’ll give him that.”

“You defended me?” you asked, laughing just a bit.

“Of course, I did. Even if I didn't have the hots for you, I can't stand that shit,” he chuckled, shaking his head.

Finally, he rested his head back against your stomach and you swore you felt him smile against you. He seemed pleased that he'd finally admitted to all of those things.

And, though you'd just participated in a fucking foursome with some of your best friends and would quite literally never live it down, you felt pretty good where you currently rested.

- - -

Tag List: @lilymurphy03 , @mypolicemanharryyy , @angelfrombeneth , @clairesjointshurt , @bunbunbl0gs , @acornacreacure, @niktwazny303 , @thestarlithideout, @sarahskakskskskajakwwnwjw , @yhiiil, @xxrougefangxx , @thatblackthorn, @robinyx , @starsval , @jolly4holly , @blvebanisters , @chgrch , @ilovehotmenandwoman , @smutnyrobocikwrakiecie , @synicaljah , @abaker74, @2dloveshp

[t4rner]

this is hardcore ✧ mark x fem. reader

★ mature content. unprotected p in v, fingering, you’re getting eaten out, don’t know how else i can put it. office sex. age gap but never mentioned. you’re a secretary. i recommend listening to ‘this is hardcore’ by pulp while reading. this is NOT proof read

i’m never writing a smut ever again.

alex ‘mark’ turner x fem. reader

She has been working at the Tranquility Base Hotel (and Casino) for nearly two years now. Her job wasn’t exactly thrilling, bringing coffee to your boss every morning was not exactly phenomenal, but how could she complain?

As well as waking up earlier than she should, just to buy him a coffee, she also recorded everything in every meeting, in her little black notebook, what things were said, and if they were important, she’d highlight them, or she’ll end up drawing a little star beside it if she had lost her highlighter. again. Though, her boss would’ve just bought her more, and if she refused, she’ll never hear the end of it. She’d end up in the filing room for hours if he asked, if he needed numbers on something specific, or just needed another double-check on something, she’d do it.

The job took up her life, but sometimes she didn’t mind. Even when he’d ask her to stay after work, she never refused. He was a different man when it was just the two alone.

Mark was a strict man, ethical, and straight-forward. He didn’t give a fuck if he behaved like a complete asshole. If you were shit at your job, you’re fired, end of story. She’d overhear the other workers bad-mouth him, calling him a tyrant, but she said nothing, because she knew how he truly was—how he was when he was around her. If he thought she stayed too long after work, he’d send her home in a cab that was on his tab. He refused to let her pay for anything. He was a good man, but his ego was too big to ever let it show around anyone that wasn’t her. He thought he’d look weak, and he definitely did not want the people that worked below him to think he was.

He usually works long hours, even when the office emptied, he’d still be rooted to the chair by the next morning; when he did get up, he’d usually leave the office for an hour or two, to check on the hotel.

It was Friday night when she was still in the office during after hours, sitting on his floor, correcting every mistake she could possibly find. He sat by his desk, his legs spread as his fingers twirled his pen, staring at the bright screen of his computer.

She eventually looked up at him, and she clears her throat, which makes him turn his head almost immediately. They had slept together nearly a week ago. He invited her over to his apartment, and one thing led to another, and now things were tense, and she didn’t like that.

“Do you have a problem with me?” She questions, her lips curving into a small frown. He tilts his head to the side, before placing the pen down onto his desk. When he doesn’t speak, she continues. “You barely uttered a word to me the past week.”

He sighs, before he rubs his face, and he stands up, which makes her instinctively stand up as well. “Just had a rough week, darlin’. It’s not you.” He hums as he gently wrapped his fingers around her wrist, twirling her slightly before pushing her against the edge of his desk, “I could never have a problem with you.” He murmurs, his fingers brushing back strand a of hair behind her ear. She could smell the alcohol on his breath, and she sighs. “Mark—“

“Shh, shh..” He sighs, before he leans in, pressing his lips against her jaw, “Do you know how hard it’s been, not being able to touch you like this?” He utters against her skin, his breath hot as he trails down to the first button of her blouse. “I can’t think of anything else but you.”

His fingers trailed up to her blouse, unbuttoning the white shirt achingly slow. She lets out a hitched breath, her eyes fluttering at the feel of his lips on her skin. “Tell me to stop.” He mutters as he eventually unbuttons her blouse, sliding it off her shoulders, which makes her shudder.

She wanted to, but at the same time, she couldn’t. She felt the same way. When she didn’t speak a word, he presses his lips against her collarbone, til it traced down her sternum. “You’re so gorgeous.” He breathes out. Her fingers gripped the desk tightly, and she gulps. His hand moved up to palm her bra, and his lips moved to the top of her breast, kissing and mouthing her sweet skin.

“I want to make you feel good.” He whispers, “Can I?” He looks up at her, and she quickly nods, and it didn’t take him even a second until he was on his knees. His fingers meticulously unzip the sides of her pencil skirt, letting it fall to the floor. He presses soft kisses against her hip, his finger hooking into the waistband of her black, lace panties, pulling it down slightly as he continued to kiss down her leg, and her fingers move into his hair, her grip tight.

His fingers fidget with her panties, and a whimper escapes her, and he smiles, looking up at her. “Never sought you to be such a needy little girl, sweetheart.” He hums, before he eventually slides them down, “Come on, be a good girl and sit down on the chair.” He nods, before he eventually stands up, watching her as she carefully moved to sit down, and he smiles. “Atta’ girl..” He whispers, before kneeling back down, noticing how wet she was, already dripping onto the leather seat. “I haven’t even touched you yet.” He chuckles, his hands moving up to her thighs, pulling them up until they were resting on her shoulders.

His hands find their way to the sides of her stomach, and his head dips down without warning, his nose grazing against her swollen clit, and her thighs squeeze around his head, rolling her head back. “I got you, baby.” He murmurs, before he presses her mouth against her pulsing folds, and she lets out a moan, her grip tightening in his hair. He sucks her labia, his fingers moving to cup her breast underneath her bra, as his tongue twirls around it. His tongue works side to side, before it delves between her folds, and her moans grow louder, her body writhing underneath his mouth. Everytime her thighs clench around his head, her fingers tightening in his hair, or the moan of his name, it strives him to continue.

“Mark, I’m going to cum..” She gasps out.

He continues his semi-aggressive movements, until he pulls away, switching to his fingers as one digit delves between her folds, and she cries out, his thumb moving in circular motions around her clit, and that warm feeling starts to pool in her stomach, and she knew she was getting close.

His finger pumps deep inside of her, curling into that sweet spot of hers, and suddenly she was a goner. She lets out a soft cry as her body shakes as she cums, and his finger slows its thrusts, guiding her through her orgasm, before he eventually pulls out. He licks his fingers clean, before leaning over her as he presses his lips against hers, swallowing her small whimpers. “You want more, don’t you?” He whispers, and she whimpers in response, nodding, before he deepens the kiss, his fingers moving to unbuckle his belt, slipping it off and letting it fall to the floor, already forgotten as he unzips his pants, pulling his pants down. His aching cock was soaking with pre-cum, already staining his boxers, and he pulls her up, guiding her towards the desk, pushing her down until her stomach pressed against his cold desk. “You’re so beautiful.” He whispers, “Especially like this.” He hums, before he slips off his boxers, his girthy, veiny, hardened length springing out. He pumps his dick, letting the pre-cum leak out, and he gently presses the tip against her pulsing hole, “I’ll take it easy on you..” He murmurs, and she can only shake her head, “Mark, please..”

He couldn’t even keep in his lust and desire as he plunges deep inside her, his fingers holding onto her hips, his words long forgotten. He pulls out, teasing her with his tip, before he sinks in again, his thrusts were slow, but eventually sped up. Her moans grew louder as relentlessly assaulted her insides, he could feel her clenching around him and he groans, his thrusts growing deeper. He could feel her molding around him, as if she was made for him, and him only. “Look at you, baby..” He groans, “So tight.. made for me, aren’t you..?” He murmurs, until his fingers moved towards her clit, rubbing circles with her thumb, and her eyes water, the overwhelming sensation hitting her all at once, and she could feel herself chasing her second orgasm. “You’re.. taking.. me.. so.. well..” He pants. “Going to fill you up, sweetheart..”

“If you’ll let me..” And she moans in response, “Yes!” She cried out eagerly.

He eventually hits that sweet spot of hers as he shifts his body, and soon enough, she was coming apart, yet he continued his deep thrusts, bruising her insides as he soon eventually came after her, groaning as he fills her up; her thrusts going sluggish as he continued, trying to keep all of it to stay in.

The room is eventually silent, except for their heavy pants, and he eventually pulls out, his length softening.

“Are you okay?” He breathes out as he cups her cheek, making her look at him, and she nods, “I’m okay.” She smiles tiredly, and his lips curve into a small smile in return.

“I’ll take you home this time.”

[waves-against-a-cliff]

Match my Freak - Gaz x Reader

3.5k

Content Warnings - BDSM Dom and Sub relationship, impact play, breath play, a collar and leash are used, oral (m receiving), degradation, praise, PiV, multiple positions, spit, anal fingering, masochism and sadism

Summary - You finally take the plunge and download an app at the recommendation of a friend. On it you meet Kyle.

You stare at the text on your phone, a simple ‘here’ from Kyle. Your mind goes over the moments that led you to this moment. Talking to your friend about the fact you fantasize about that time you were fucked like a rag doll often, that you would love to relive that moment again. Of course, god bless your friend, they recommend you an app. “Plenty of freaks in the sea.” They said between sips of their drink. You’re not ashamed to admit that you had downloaded that app the moment they had mentioned it. As usual in apps like this, there are the ones who are clearly not there to seriously find what the app was created for. You met a few long distance guys and now your gallery has a nice wall of nudes and videos to send at least but it wasn’t what you wanted. You needed something to quell the ache between your legs, to rip you from your mind which ran a million miles in a minute. You still curse yourself for not taking your toys with you when moved but that’s beside the point now.

Then you found ‘Gaz’. That was the name on his profile, admittedly it made you kind of snort but you had already wasted some of your time, what's a few more minutes of hazing another guy? Even better was the fact that he was close. So yeah, you took the chance and by god are you happy that you did. After looking over his bio, which you did religiously with every guy you came across on this app, you sent him a message based off his bio. It had mentioned that you know where you belong, on your knees at his feet. So the next step was obvious. ‘I would love to be kneeling at your feet.’ You had thought to yourself after looking at his pictures that he had to be catfishing. Because there was no way someone as pretty as him was on this app, he probably got approached so often he had a million numbers filling up his phone. So you set your phone to the side and went to sleep, thinking that you’d probably not hear back from him.

So needless to say that you were NOT expecting to have first arranged a coffee meet up (vibe check). Even more needless to say that you were expecting his pictures to be exaggerated if not completely faked. But no. He is even more pretty than his pictures and the two of you talked until the coffee shop closed. Mostly about your interests outside of wanting to be dicked down or in his case, to be dicking someone down. Turns out he has three cats, loves to make music in his spare time and more importantly, once in his car, explained that he is experienced in this kind of community. Something that relieved some of your anxiety, you gave him your phone number and he dropped you back off at your place. You set a date and time for the first session after establishing basic boundaries. Do’s and don’ts for this session.

Now he was here to pick you up. Your heart couldn’t help but pound against your chest as you slipped on your shoes and walked out the door. The car ride was anxiety filling, at least for you. Your hands tremble a little so you keep them on your phone to hide that and he plays his favorite music. You keep reminding yourself that he knows what he’s doing, that he knows that you’re new to this kind of thing. You’re not completely inexperienced in BDSM but the things you’ve tried haven’t gone too far. But you want to go far, you want to know more about this and about yourself. Kyle seems to be the perfect introduction into the more… masochistic… side of yourself.

He brings you inside of his house, passing by his three cats who meow happily at their cat dad’s return and sniff at your legs before he leads you into his room. He had mentioned that he prefers a clean and organized space. As you take off your shoes and place them out of the way, you look around and realize you underestimated how clean and organized he liked it. He had wipe boards on the walls of his bedroom, each with lists of things he needs to do or get. Each one gives you a further glimpse into his personality. You’re seriously doubting he does music as a hobby because he seems rather serious about it. You glance at him as he mutters something to himself, “I might’ve pulled it out already.” He wanders over to the bedside table and opens the top drawer. You get only a glimpse in there, you spot what you think is a vibrator of some kind, some lube (thank god) and finally a collar and leash. That is what he pulls out. Your stomach does a flip as you force yourself to look away from it.

Right, you had mentioned wanting to try having a collar on and a leash. You can feel your cheeks warming up and if he notices, he doesn’t say anything. Instead he stands in front of you, lifting your head with two fingers under your chin. “I’m gonna freshen up and when I’m done, I expect you to be out of these.” He touches your outfit like it personally insulted him. You nod, unable to form words and watch him go into his bathroom. You don’t wait, you don’t know how long it’ll take, you strip yourself down to your underwear. For a moment you hesitate. Does he want this off as well? You decide he likely does and even if he doesn’t, he’s already seen your cunt in the pictures he requested. You place the clothes in the corner, unsure where you should put them, then sit back down. Thankfully for your poor beating heart he finishes up not that much longer after. He comes out of the bathroom and looks at you appreciatively. He grabs the collar and leash combo, looks to you for confirmation and you nod, words still unable to form in your mouth.

He puts the collar around your throat, he tightens it and checks the space between the leather collar and your skin. Seemingly satisfied, he wraps the leash in his fist, “Kneel.” You’re quick to comply, quickly getting off the bed and kneeling on the carpeted floor. Kyle forces your head up and mouth open, it strikes you then that he’s inspecting you. His thumb swipes across your bottom lip and presses onto your tongue. “Up, lay on the bed facing me and spread your legs.” Again you comply, you’re thankful he doesn’t comment on the fact you’re trembling. You can’t help it, you’re excited like some kind of small dog. Eager for this to be happening. You force yourself to look at the ceiling as your face heats further as he spreads the folds of your cunt and presses his finger in slightly and pushes a gasp from your lips. He gives it a light slap, your hips jerk involuntarily and your eyes immediately shoot to him. You don’t need to know him down to the depths of his soul to know that slightly smug look on his face, his lips quirked up and a glint in his eyes. 

“On your stomach.” You flip over and he spreads your ass cheeks, you bite your lip as he inspects that hole. His hands run over the fat of your ass appreciatively, he grabs a handful and releases it to watch it jiggle. “When I do this,” He speaks suddenly and you snap back from that slightly cloudy space he had already started to push you into, “I am inspecting your holes. Face me.” You turn around and look at him, meeting his dark brown eyes and then your eyes dart to his hand as it grips something you hadn’t noticed earlier. A riding crop, your mouth waters as the phantom sting of pain dances across your skin at the idea of that leather hitting your skin. “Kneel.” As you sit on your knees and look up at him, the leash wrapped around his fist and the crop in the other he asks you, “How much do you like pain?” You hesitate for a second and he adds, “On a scale of one to ten.”

“A six?” You say but it feels like your own question. Honestly, you only know that you like pain. You like the bite of it, the lingering sting that comes with a slap or hit. You adore how hot your skin gets after contact.

“Then I’ll take it easy on you.” You don’t amend your previous answer even though a part of you is telling you to. Learn where the line starts first before trying to find the end of it you tell yourself. The strike from the crop doesn’t quite sting even though it lands on its target, your breast. He corrects this with the second strike to the other one and you let out a gasp. Kyle takes this information and uses it for the next three strikes, each one leaving behind that familiar sting that sinks you back into that cloudy headspace. He tugs on the leash, you’re only half aware when your eyes find his hard cock. At some point while you were floating in that fuzzy space he had rolled on a condom and you don’t need to hear his words to know what you need to do next. Your mouth opens on instinct and his cock slides into your mouth. It's a beautiful thing, his cock. You normally don’t think like that, usually cocks are weird things. With their mushroom heads and the way they just look. But Kyle’s? God it's beautiful and some part of you wants to thank him for the chance to have it in your mouth even if there is a protective layer of rubber.

You feel bad for not having enough salvia and make a mental note to drink more fucking water. You do your best to work with what you have, you swipe your tongue on the underside of his cock and while you don’t hear him, you feel him pull on the collar to push his cock further down your throat. You force your throat to relax, you’re not going to gag as violently as you normally do. You nearly protest when he pulls his cock from your mouth but he cuts it off swiftly when he tells you to get on bed, face towards the ceiling. Your eyes fix directly on him as he grabs your legs and pulls you to the edge of the bed, he glances up at you from under his lashes, his hand still wrapped around the leash connected to the collar around your throat as he slides his cock between your folds. The head of it grazes your clit and you feel an electric shock go through you, his lips quirk up again and he releases your leash. Kyle reaches over to the bottle of lube and pops open the cap before lathering a generous amount on his cock before he lines himself up. The initial push is difficult and you try your best to relax as his thick cock pushes itself into you. Forcing the tightness that’s come about from simply not being laid in a while to mold to his dick’s shape, your lips part as he bottoms out.

Your head falls back and you blink up at the ceiling, swallowing hard against the collar wrapped around your throat. “Look at me.” Your eyes snap back to him, his free hand is around your thigh and the other still holds that riding crop. His hand makes contact with your cheek, the sting is immediate, your skin heats from the force of it and your cunt clenches around him. He does it again three more times, twice to the same spot and once to the other cheek as that haze settles over you. Finally he moves, pulling his hips back before snapping them back to yours. It pulls a moan from you and he strikes your tit with the riding crop at that exact level he had established earlier making your eyes flutter.

The pace Kyle sets is brutal. Each snap of his hips, each thrust has your hands gripping the blanket beneath you. It has you moaning despite your attempts to keep quiet, you think he might have a thing against you trying to be quiet. He uses the crop a few more times; once hitting directly onto your hardened nipple which pulls a shriek from you at the same time his cock hits that space inside of you that makes your back arch off the bed. “You like this don’t you?” You nod and choke out a ‘yes’ to which he growls, “It's sir to you.”

“Yes sir.” You moan, his well groomed patch of hair just barely grazing your clit. 

Just enough to drive you insane. You nearly sob when he pulls out but he barks out, “On your hands and knees.” You comply immediately, scrambling to fulfill his order. You arch your back as well as you can for him, pressing your chest to the mattress as you feel it sink beneath his weight behind you. He smacks your ass and you bite your lip to swallow the sound that pulls from you. Burying your face into the blanket at the same time he buries his thick cock back into your weeping hole. You moan into the blanket, your mouth falling open as he smacks your ass once again and readjusts his position. He plants one foot flat on the bed and that changes everything. The force he uses for the next thrust not only punches an unfamiliar sound from you but pushes you up the bed just a little. One of his hands tightens around your waist while the other trails up your back. For the moment, you think he’s going for the leash until he laces his fingers into your hair and pulls.

You gasp into the open air as he doesn’t break pace. You claw at the bed, your ah-ah-ah’s fill the room and you feel yourself clenching around him. Fuck, he just needs to keep going and you might just cum. You’ve never cum from just penetration before, god wouldn’t that be something else? “What a good fucking slut. Are you a good slut?”

“Y-yes sir!” You reply between moans, barely able to catch your breath at this point as his hand comes down hard on your ass.

“Thats fucking right. And you’re my slut.” You nod, eager to please him. To make him continue, god you’re so fucking close. “Gonna cum?” You reply with a nod which gets your ass a slap, “Speak when I talk to you.”

“Yes sir!” You slur out, fingers digging further into the blanket. You feel a sob building up in your throat as he only doubles down. The fingers digging into your waist move as his bulky arm (you want to bite it so bad. You had looked at his profile pictures just to stare at them) wraps around your hips and his fingers immediately find your hardened clit, begging for stimulation. Your orgasm is like a brick wall, fuck you haven’t cum for months. Your legs start to cramp and begin shaking, you actually let out a choked sob as you clench around his cock like you’re trying to choke the life out of it. You're fully submerged in that cloudy state, words just falling out of your mouth at this point. “Thank you thank you thank you.” You repeat, a few tears dripping from your cheeks onto the blanket.

You don’t even fight, wouldn’t want to anyways, as he pushes down on your back and forces you to lay on your belly. When he pushes his cock back into you, there’s a slight burn and you know you have clenched down on him hard. Your mind is still spinning from the orgasm, you’re not even down in your body when he thrusts. The sound you make is somewhere between a scream and a moan, to be honest you can’t really tell because you’re too busy focusing on the hand that wraps around your throat to force your head back up. “Fucking slut.” He grunts out and you can only attempt to nod in agreement. You are. You know you are. Only sluts like to be fucked like this, like that sting on their skin. That bite of pain that makes your head fuzzy. You’re vaguely aware of his other hand wandering over the expanse of your ass before it dips in between your cheeks. You’re pulled just slightly out of that haze as he spits down on you, the glob of saliva landing near where he intends before he swipes it up with his thumb. Your eyes widen and you feel your pussy gush at the realization of what’s happening. Slowly, he pushes his thumb into your puckered hole and you can’t hold your head up at the pressure. It makes your legs kick just a little until he’s down to the knuckle. He hooks it in you, using it like fucked up leverage. It makes your skin prickle with heat and push you back into that haze, pushing you further than you were before.

When his hand moves from your throat you gulp down some air for only a second before it's replaced by his arm. Your moans are cut short but he doesn’t seem to mind, fuck he seems to like it more when you try to moan but can’t. Each one being cut off by a different sound he’s punching out of your lungs each time his cock bullies back into your weeping cunt. With a grunt, you feel it against your back; the rumble of his chest as his hips still and he fills the condom. You mourn the lack of warmth within your cunt when he pulls out. You know it's for the best, at least for now while the two of you figure things out and push your limits. But fuck you would love to have his cum seeping out of you.

You roll over, trying to catch your breath when you see him rolling on another onto his still hard cock. You can’t decide if your stomach plummeted or if it flipped. This time, he doesn’t hide that smirk on his face and it flips something in your brain. Makes you want to bare your throat so he can push his teeth into the delicate skin until there’s blood. Until your blood coats his lips and teeth, until the tang of iron is on his tongue. He crawls over you, pushing your legs up so his hips can settle between them. His fingers hook under your collar as he pushes his cock back into you. It dawns on you that he hadn’t been all the way in at first. He must have left a few inches out because when he pushes all the way this time, you feel that delightful pinch in your stomach and that burn from your hole. Next time, you decide, you’re going to really get a look at his cock. Really admire it. Because you can feel how he thickens at the base, you can feel how the tip of him pushes against your unyielding cervix.

He pulls your head up towards him, his mouth by your ear as he begins his pace again. You have to brace your hands against the headboard, slightly worried you might hit your head against it with the way he’s rutting into you. Kyle pulls moans from you like it’s his right and for now, it is. You completely surrendered your body to him for this, you told him to his face on the car ride home from the coffee shop that you like to be used. You want to be fucked like a doll. And by god, he was fulfilling that request. “When you’re with me I own you.” He growls out. His words take you by surprise and you look at him, your eyes wide like prey caught in the sight of a predator. Kyle’s beautiful brown eyes have darkened and he looks at you like he is a predator, like a fox licking its chops as it spots a bunny. “Your mouth. Your ass. Your cunt. I own them now.”

You nod and swallow down the sob nearly tearing its way from your throat, “Yes sir.”

“Thats fucking right. I own you, your holes are mine to use.” And he slams his cock back in, one hand shoots to his arm and you claw, choking yourself on the collar as you throw your head back.

You blink up at the ceiling, his thumb rubs against your skin in a soothing manner. A request you had made when it came to aftercare. You time your breaths and slowly bring yourself back to your body. You glance at him, unable to form words and he seems to be lacking them too despite the fact he had repeated what he said. His words still echo in your head, making your insides all fuzzy when you think about it. “So,” He finally says a minute later, “are you usually free on weekends?”

[nanivinsmoke]

✩ Fire We Make.

endeavor x blackfem!reader

✩ a miniseries based off my one shot the assistant. this will be a multi part series and i will always link the previous one for you guys.

✩ this is not canon endeavor, he’s not abusive at all. hes actually very loving, just a little dick at times. also the reader is black (we all cheered). also thank you for 1k followers, yall all some freaks <3.

✩ warnings & tags: i switch perspectives a lot in this, there’s no nsfw yet. established crush.

you’ve got to be fucking kidding.

there’s no way, absolutely no fucking way, especially not on your first day.

you were currently in the arms of a big sasquatch, who tormented a bunch of civilians as they ran for their lives. you should’ve turned on another block, but you just had to take a main road. and to make matters worse you were going to be late for your new job.

you cursed yourself and everyone who prayed on your downfall the past couple of years, blaming them for the situation you were in. but, as your mind was preoccupied a series of flames were being thrown at the big hairy man; making him lose grip on your body.

‘great. now im going to fall to my death’

you closed your eyes and said a prayer, hoping someone would hear it. and it felt like someone did because you were engulfed in a set of big muscular arms. looking up at your savior, you were shocked to see the number two hero holding you.

endeavor, placed you down and continued to throw flames at the villain; causing him to stop drop and roll. and while that happened, a reinforcement team captured the sasquatch, sending him to jail.

you smoothed out your black and white striped skirt, grabbing your fallen brief case—before you were suddenly ridiculed by the man who judged you.

“you’re lucky i was already in this area. hopefully you’ll stay out of harm’s way” his voice deep and stern, causing you to roll yours eyes. you were going to give him a piece of your mind, but your watched ticked and you remembered where you had to be.

“fuck! im so g’na get fired.” he turned to look at you and with an eye roll he picked you up. “where do you have to go?”

“The Endeavor Agen—oh,” you realized that you were now in the arms of your boss and you hoped that he wasn’t going to fire you. he rolled his eyes once more and continued into the direction of his agency.

it didn’t take long for the two of you to arrive, and when you did, he led the way to his floor; where his office resided. while the two of you waited for the elevator, he decided to ease the awkwardness by talking, saving you from biting your fingers off.

“what position are you here for?”

“im here to be your assistant. please don’t let what just happened to steer you away from me. im good at what i do, check my credentials.” you pulled a folder out of your black leather briefcase, your heels clicking while you walked into the elevator.

he said nothing as he read your file, making you even more nervous. so, you decided to keep talking. “i hear your going to be appointed the number one hero and I think it’s best to have a press conference before. it would ease the minds of the civilians, it would let them know that their in good hands. you should make this about them, but also mention allmight. how you know it’s big shoes to fill, but you thank home for every he’s done.”

his deep dark red eyebrows rose as he listened to you talk, his bright eyes still on your a-list resume. everything checked out, you had tons of recommendations from other hero’s and celebrities. maybe you were a good fit for this job.

you paused, wondering what did he have to say about your suggestion as the elevator doors opened up to the penthouse floor. the office was huge, a bunch of desks neatly placed on the floors; each decorated with the employees most favorite things. the windows were huge, sky rise, giving off a perfect view of the city.

he finally motioned for you to continue, still leading the way to his office, “I also feel like you should switch out your hero suit and go with a nice business suit. navy blue’s your favorite color, but i feel like a nice cool gray armani suit would make you look more trusting. i believe there should already be a selection of suits in your office already.”

he was amazed at how you moved, how you already planned ahead, despite what caused you to have a delay. he opened the door to his office, the smell of fresh oak and cinnamon hit your nostrils, making you feel warm inside. and just like you predicted, a stand with suits hanging from it was in his office, waiting for him.

“Alright, I won’t fire you. But, you also have to attend this conference with me. Hope you have an extra outfit for you to wear,” you sighed, knowing you were here to stay; warmed you.

“ill have a darker gray pantsuit on the way for me. our colors will compliment each other, sending a message that you stand as a unit. I’ll let you get dressed and I’ll call the car for us when you’re ready to go.” She smiled and he couldn’t help the one that grew on his. She was perfect already.

On their way to the conference hall, she decided to go over a few things with her boss; to prepare him for what’s to come. “Sir, you might get some questions that might upset you and are triggering, but I want you to leave those to me. Let me answer those questions. You wouldn’t want them to think negative of you, okay?” She advised and the pro-hero nodded. He admired her preparation and was glad to have her on his team.

Soon, the company car stopped and they were outside of the hall. Paparazzi stood outside waiting to snap a picture of the flame hero and he mentally cringed. “Media will have a field day with any negative picture of you, let’s just ignore them.” She led the way inside, ignoring the camera people’s questions.

The conference came and went, it was successful. All though there was a question from a reporter about Endeavor’s youngest son.

“How do you feel about your youngest becoming a pro-hero in the making and having to fight your battles?” y/n took over the mic and answered the question for him.

“He’s not fighting his father’s battles, he’s learning. As any UA student it’s common that you’re going to get a lesson where you’d might fight a villain or two, stronger than you. You will have to persevere and understand your strengths and the opponents weaknesses. It’s apart of the journey of getting stronger and becoming a hero.”

the way you were able to answer the question and leave the reporter satisfied, with no further questions; was amazing. He could see why you have so many recommendations already. Endeavor grabbed that microphone and thanked everyone for their time, before the two of you departed and hopped back into the company car.

the sky turned a shade of dark amber as the sun began to set, signifying that it was getting late. as the two exited the tinted black car and it drove away, they stood outside the building for a second; looking at each other before Endeavor spoke.

“Would you care to join me for dinner, I usually order take-out and eat it here; before tying up some things at the office.” you smiled and nodded your head, this would be a good opportunity for you to get to know you boss a little bit better.

on the elevator ride up, found a place to order from; putting in your order and his. and it didn’t take long for the food to get there either, as soon as you walked off; a delivery hero was there waiting with your food. after tipping the hero and grabbing the food, you followed him inside his huge office. he sat in his leather rolling chair and you took the liberty of sitting on his desk.

while the two of you ate, you quickly got to know each other. you talked about a variety of things and you learned he was actually very funny. soon, the sky was now a dark blue, adorned with an array of white stars, and the two of you had finished eating. but, you weren’t ready for the day to end just yet.

a question you were dying to ask popped into your head and flew right out of your mouth, “How’s your wife?” you wanted to scrape your skin off, trying to avoid his gaze as he his face changed from a variety of expressions.

“She’s good…why’d you ask?” his answer was not the one you were hoping for and you wished you could just retract your statement. “Nothing. I just wanted to know.”

His icy stare pierced the side of your face and you couldn’t ignore it, it was like he was melting you from the outside. Like he could see what you were thinking. “My marriage…is complicated.” Endeavor admitted, running a hand through his spiky red hair.

You held your hands up and shook it, “you don’t have to explain your marriage to me. forget that i asked! Hey, it’s getting late. I’ll see you tomorrow” before he could even respond, you grabbed your food and headed out the door. Too embarrassed to turn around.

Endeavor watched you walk out the door, a twinge of confusion and disappointment came over him. He wanted to call you back over, but he resisted the urge and let you walk right out the door. “Yeah, see you tomorrow…”

The next day rolled around rather quickly, it was more dull than the day before. That’s because you were doing your best to avoid him. You kept to yourself, organizing your files, scheduling meetings and replying to emails. The only time you spoke to him was for little things and you kept it professional, and short. You were so embarrassed from yesterday.

You had a crush on Endeavor before you started to work for him and the day he saved you, increased the attraction you felt for him. So, when you found out he was still married; even with their problems, you were disappointed. You couldn’t compete with that.

Soon, the amber gaze fell over the sky once again and the employees soon left the building one by one—only leaving the two of you. Endeavor was waiting for everyone to leave, that way he could finally talk to you; without extra ears. his six foot five frame towered over you and yours desk, making you look up from the paperwork you had neatly stacked on your desk.

“I wanted to know if you’re okay? you seemed very distant.” his voice was softer than usual and his cool blue eyes stared at your softer ones.

“Im okay, why?” your words had came off a little bit aggressive than you hoped. “just wanted to let you know, if you need to talk….im here.” he gave you a small smile and walked back into his office.

you sighed, slamming your pen down onto the stack of paper, before putting your hands onto your melanated face. you sat there, thoughts running rampant, before you got up and entered his office with a knock. “Sir?”

“yes, y/n?” his expression was neutral, watching you as you walked closer to his desk.

“i want to apologize. i was really rude to you and yesterday was not something i should be asking my boss.”

“don’t worry about it, besides i didn’t take offense to it” his smile made you relax, feeling like you got a a chip off your shoulder. you sat on the edge of his desk, as a mental reminder went off in your head. “hey, i see there’s an annual hero charity event happening this saturday. are you going to attend?”

“charity events are my kind of thing…ill pass” you pouted and got even more comfortable on his desk, eyes pleading with him. “It’ll be a good look for you and the agency, plus I’ll be attending. what do you say?”

he took a nice long pause, formulating what he was about to say next, “Alright. Alright, I’ll see you Saturday. Don’t expect me to be happy about it though.” you smiled and clapped your hands, reaching over to hug your boss, allowing him to take in your scent. the smell of your strawberries and creme perfume was intoxicating to him. the two of you sat there, longer than expected before you pulled away.

“See you saturday and goodnight” he watched you get up from his desk and strutted out his office door. your long legs jiggled each time you moved, hypnotizing him, until he couldn’t see them anymore. ‘Damn’ he whispered to himself and brushed his hair back.

he couldn’t wait to see you again.

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 9/17/2024

come take this very very friendly little man out of my bathroom! he is fiv+ and we are in houston tx! i am willing to drive a couple hours for the right home! he is a good boy he's just orange! more details here!

listening

emily jeffri's DENY off my spotify recommended weekly playlist: i can only describe it as "throbbing". immediately attention grabbing lyrics:

What kind of lover does your mother want? I'll do whatever, oh but you could not

very distinctly indie electronica. this would be the song in a cyberpunk/80s hacker movie where the chase takes you through an goth/alt fashion show where the models are actively giving blood as they walk or something.

i love the spotify daily mix for me and my bestie bc there's a guaranteed four bluey songs on it and it's a nice jumpscare. i know my mental health is taking a turn for the worse when a lot of mother mother starts popping up, i know my bestie's is taking a turn for the worse when a lot of girl in red starts popping up. suicide-watch-level sapphic angst singer-songwriter, generally. except for this song! extremely fun! didn't even recognize it as her! DOING IT AGAIN BABY is a more traditional selling-you-a-dodge-charger car commercial song and it's such a startling departure from her usual work that i wonder if it was a commercial commission? hard to immediately find out tho

I'm on a new level Something's got me feelin' like I could be inflammable And I might be I'm gonna light it up Nothing's gonna stop me if I say this is what I want

-

reading

i read twilight (yes that one) at the behest of my bestie and bc my mental health could not have gotten any worse in that moment. it has led to some uncomfortable realizations about my high school experience i will save for a therapist. i am mostly putting it here to remind myself that i read this book this year.

^ this is some silly goofy nonsense. not that i think people shouldn't be recognized at their retirement, but what happened to giving people nice watches instead of a thousand dollars in plaques

Saying that, the records did reveal something actually interesting: although the individual contract I sent a request related to was for a few thousand dollars, an attached blank purchase agreement (BPA) says that “the government estimates, but does not guarantee, that the volume of purchases through this BPA will be $360,000.00 over the term of the BPA.” So, a lot more than a few thousand bucks.

-

watching

Hang 'Em High (1968, dir. Post). certainly not clint's sluttiest role but really up there. i do wish he kept the fucked-out little rasp for the whole movie :(

When an innocent man barely survives a lynching, he returns as a lawman determined to bring the vigilantes to justice.

it has a typical bizarre shoehorned romance that (i think) deeply undercuts the theme it wants to explore, but there is no on-screen rape. the bar is on the FLOOR with westerns and yet i DNF so so so many.

hell of a whump film. literally everything happens to jed cooper. i will trumpet this again from the rooftops: that character needs cbt both ways.

-

playing

HIGHWATER, a 2022 adventure/turn based strategy thing from Rogue Games, courtesy of Netflix Games, whose game library is a fucking nightmare to navigate on mobile.

i loooove a water-based postapoc. the boat does in fact handle very poorly and like a horrible inflatable raft on mobile, which is both charming and frustrating.

i do not love a turn-based combat. despite the vibes off the charts, including a very well integrated "pirate radio" station as the game's soundtrack, i am not patient enough to muddle through complex turn-based combat. i'm sure someone had fun fighting off six guys and two bears (who aggro anyone and can one-hit anyone) and then a further three guys who show up for backup but i gave it the good old college try over two days and wasn't able to swing it. it would be nice to have either a difficulty setting or some way to spectate the ideal fight, but alas. a lot of fun environmental stuff in the fights you can use to your advantage, like the bears and these trees you can flatten your opponents with in a much earlier fight. there's a fun mix of different characters with different abilities and different weapons you pick up and keep during fights. i have no specific beef with this game's choice to make this the way you move through the game, it's just not my preferred genre.

a lot of book and newspaper collectibles in this one that i feel of several minds about. it feels less like environmental storytelling through newspapers and just the devs telling me their opinion when they provide little book summaries like this. also i wish The Industry as a whole was more thoughtful about using the word "insurgent".

not a game for me, i have once again confirmed that i cannot tolerate a turn-based combat no matter how much seafaring postapoc you drench it in :(

-

making

got a Phantom Menace era curtain panel for $4 at the thrift, and i was convinced it was fabric someone had made into a curtain panel until i got home and discovered it was an officially licensed product with bafflingly generous seams.

it's about two-ish yards of a 50/50 cotton/poly blend, which i feel like i haven't seen in a while? i think the current fashion leans more 70/30 or 100 poly for curtains i've purchased. after i finish unpicking the seams and pinking it, i am going to throw it in the wash again with some vinegar and see if that softens it up any, or if it makes the transition between the wear lines on the seams and the body of the fabric any nicer.

thinking about what kind of dress to make that 1) shows off this extremely large scale pattern 2) does not look like i am wearing a paper bag, and 3) does not look like the late aughts craft trend of sewing a twin flat Star Wars sheet to a tube top and calling that a dress, bc that's how hard up we were for feminine merch. much to consider. maybe it Will be a maxi skirt with pockets and i can wear one of my seventy black tees on top?

[caeli0306]

For the writers’ ask game thing (please and thank you!):

❤️🎁👻

———————

❤️ What is your favorite line that you’ve written in a fic?

💥 What is one canon thing that you wish you could change?

✨️ Out of the comments you’ve received on your fics, what are two or three of your favorites?

👻 What is your wildest headcanon?

✍️ What’s your ideal writing setup?

🚀 Do you like to outline your fic first or create as you go?

🎁 Have a piece of a WIP you want to share?

🏷 Is there a tag you like to search for when looking for fanfics to read?

⏰️ Do you like to post fics on a schedule or at random?

👓 What helps you focus when you write?

💕 What is your favorite fic that you’ve written?

🐇 Do you write for yourself, for others, or both?

🥳 Why did you start writing fanfic?

🦋 Which character is your favorite to write?

🦈 Which character is the toughest to write?

🍬 Do you write for multiple fandoms? If yes, what is your favorite fic of yours for each fandom?

🌻 How often do you read your own fics?

📗 Do you want to write something outside of fanfiction? If so, what about?

🎬 If a movie or show were based on your fic, which fic would you choose and who would you fancast?

💭 What inspires you and your writing?

🧪 Do you research for your fics?

😎 What fics do you prefer on a scale of canon compliant to wildly original?

💎 Do you often write about a relationship or focus on an individual?

🔥 Have you included any sexy scenes in your fics? If yes, do you find them easy or difficult to write?

💘 Is it easier to write angst or fluff?

🚦What sort of endings do you prefer to write: ambiguous, bad, happily ever after, etc.?

💡How many WIPs do you currently have?

🔎 Does anyone beta read or edit your fics?

📚 Is there a fanfic or fanfic writer you recommend?

🤩 What led to your interest in the fandom?

🤖 Are non-fandom friends aware that you write fanfic?

💛 What is the most impactful lesson you’ve learned about writing?

👑 Do you like writing short fics or long fics?

🎯 Do you have a writing milestone you’re working towards?

🔮 Any advice for writers working through burnout or writer’s block?

🤔 Would you ever want to write something canon if you got the opportunity?

💌 Is there a favorite trope you like to write?

🎨 If someone were to make fanart of your work, what fic or scene would you hope to see?

Ooh thanks for asking!

❤️ - This is so hard. A few options b/c I can't choose!

from castles crumbling chapter 2

I want to scream, but I can’t get the air into my lungs. This isn’t fair. If Malek had to take anyone, he should have taken me. Not this innocent child. Not these people celebrating their gods. Me. A murderer. Someone who so long ago lost my humanity that I barely even remember what it felt like to be human.

This line from the present, the past, and you in between:

The war was long, but my life with her has been longer. I used to say that I've lived on borrowed time, and I accepted that my life was destined to be short. Then I began to pray to Malek, begging to borrow more, all to spend with her.

Combined with this line:

I begged Malek for more time, and he gave me too much.

From Did Someone Say Shots?:

Instead, I slept with her when I knew how horrible of an idea it was, and it fucking destroyed me when, in the morning light, she called it a mistake. Look at me, dealing with the consequences of my own actions.

Last but definitely not least, from chapter 6 of castles crumbling:

I laid my old self to rest a long time ago, but he is still there at the wake, trying to make sense of her demise.

🎁 - a lil blurb from an unpublished one shot, if it pleases the court :)

Then Xaden walks into the conference room. He has the kind of presence that makes people shut up and pay attention, and I hate him for it. The chatter that permeated the air dies away instantly, replaced by the silence of worshippers waiting for words from their god on high. I guess Xaden fulfills that role here. Those golden eyes of his find me almost immediately, and I school my expression into a glare. I hate you, I hate you, I hate you. That's the message I want him to receive. Instead, he only smirks, and then turns to retrieve a folder from Bodhi, who followed him in. Xaden takes a seat at the head of the long table, sitting as casually as one would in their own living room. He props his elbows on the table, the movement causing the muscles of his arms to bulge under the rolled up sleeves of his black button up shirt. I hate that he looks that good without even trying. I hate that I know what he looks like under that shirt even more. As if sensing that I was thinking about him, about That Night, he meets my eyes again, and his grin this time is downright filthy. "Shall we begin?" he asks. "Sorrengail, you're up. Tell us how you plan to save our asses, and try to make it quick." Oh, fuck him. I plaster on my most fake smile, and stand. Liam gives me a look from where he stands, that basically says Don't do something you'll regret. Luckily for me, I've about expended my regret reserves when it comes to Xaden Riorson. If he wants to be an ass, then fine. I'll be an ass in return. He needs me a whole lot more than I need him.

👻 - IDK if it's a headcanon, but I like to think Xaden sometimes needs assurances that she's not going to leave and that she loves him because he doesn't think he's worthy of her. Not in like, a toxic way, or in the "I need to know you'll be there" way that he brought up in IF, but more every day, like "Hey I'm feeling x right now, and need to hear that my brain is creating scenarios that aren't real." IDK if I'm making any sense.

[minato-division01]

Results!

It's now time to reveal who's the most popular member of Oculus! Truthfully, we would have released this earlier in the week, but, as usual, life got in the way, so we decided to just wait until now, when the anniversary is over.

But anyway, here are the results! The fan favorite for Minato Division's Oculus is...

Aika Yumi!

She led the majority of the race throughout the entire week, earning five votes with Nadya getting one, and Meari having none.

We're happy to see Aika is so popular by many of her fans! Truthfully, she's exactly what we had in mind when we created her. A large part of her personality and character is based off of Jessie Maye from Huniepop (If you haven't played it, we highly recommend it), so we're glad we did her justice. Although, we are a little shocked that Meari didn't get any votes, whilst Nadya got one. As much as we like Nadya, we definitely have more fun writing with Meari cause its easy to memorize what she is going to say and do, whilst with Nadya we have a little more trouble.

But in any case, thank you to all who participated in the poll. We truly appreciate it.

Meari: "Are you fucking serious?! How the hell does the Doc here get one vote, while I don't have any?! What kinda bullshit is that?!"

Nadya: "Perhaps you aren't as popular as you seem to think you are, Ruffian. Or perhaps the people of this country are as tired of that insidious noise you make as I am."

Meari: "Yeah, screw you, Doc. I don't know what kinda bullshit fraud you pulled off here, but..."

Nadya: "Ha! Ruffian, if you honestly believe in that empty head of yours that I had anything to do with you not receiving any votes, then you're even more of a simpleton than I'd originally thought, if that's even possible."

Meari: "Oh, fuck you!"

Aika: "Ladies, please. Regardless of who received votes and who didn't, it was still a good competition."

Meari: "Oh, please. You're only saying that shit cause you not only won, but was in the majority of the lead the entire race."

Aika: "I'll admit, that may have something to do with it. But regardless, it's the end of our anniversary, sadly. So, let's try to leave on a positive note, okay?"

Nadya: "That's fine with me."

Meari: "Yeah, I guess. ...I still want to know who was the idiot that voted for the Doc, though."

Aika: "...That is a valid question, Nadya. Who did vote for you?"

Nadya: "Why do either of you assume I would know who voted for me? I do not know, nor do I care to know."

Meari: "Ha! The Doc's not used to being liked, so she's trying to play it off like it means nothing."

Nadya: "And remind me, Ruffian, which of the two of us received one vote, whilst the other received none?"

Meari: "..."

Nadya: "Yes, my thoughts exactly."

Meari: "Oh, shut the hell up!"

[raphaelesbian]

Asdfghjkl that post you made about Saki and Yoshi is making me INSANE!!! 2012 truly went so hard with that dynamic and the two of them have been rotating around in my head for years but I NEVER noticed how much time must have taken place between Saki finding out the truth and the night Shen died. The IMPLICATIONS!!! The way you know it must have just festered on both ends. Gah!! On a related note might I humbly suggest listening to the song Brother by Madds Buckley. Every time I hear it all I can think of are 2012 Saki and Yoshi. Anyway thank you for your post!!! Amazing insight!! <3

fdskghksdhgkdg oh I love how we are all insane about them together rn ❤️❤️❤️❤️I am happy to have brought that little detail to your attention bc YEAH. oh my god!!!! literally I feel like i'm going to keep finding new aspects to obsess over for the rest of my life lmao. I feel like that's what makes their story and dynamic so interesting to me, like there's so many layers to peel apart yourself.

it FESTERED!!!! like, we all know Saki holds a fucking grudge lmao, and then I imagine the others were like. Just so happy to sweep it under the rug and pretend everything was fine. When all that really did was allow Saki to make things worse. Refusing to communicate, letting every minor annoyance or slight congeal around the base of "I'm an Oroku and they killed my family." Everything can just get grouped together and led back to the Big Hurt that he won't acknowledge, until it boiled over in the most catastrophic way.

OH MY GOD THIS IS SO?????? Thank you for this recommendation I'm literally insane about this it fits them SO WELL??? All the FIRE IMAGERY. Omfg this is literally. The LYRICS this could easily be written ABOUT THEM. I'm so deranged about this.

[gortius-viii]

Flag-rating world map

Hear ye! Hear ye!

Some time ago I undertook one of my usual arduous missions, because I am headstrong as fuck, which is not too dissimilar of a form of self-torture. I decided to go to the wikipedia article for "Flags of X [X = country]", and if that didn't exist, then "The flag of X", and based of how much I liked the flags shown in that article I'd give that country a rating from A (the best) to E (the worst), and colour said country a corresponding colour in a map.

This took longer that you might've though, you only get a feel of how many countries there are when you have to visit their wikipedia pages individually. Anyway, this journey of mine led me to reach some conclusions which I'd like to share with you, and see if you agree.

But before that, I'll share with you the clean map and the one with all the ratings, if you would like to make your own version.

"Can we stop with the nonsense that the 'flag of the president' has to be the coat of arms of a nation on top of some monochromatic background? Thank you. No, really, if you are going to make a flag - unnecessary by the way - for a government position that so uninspired, don't do it, what's the point? As I see it, these kinds of flags should be made when there is a significant symbolism or design you'd like a flag to have."

"Sometimes one would like to see a bit of international standardization among flags. In a thousand and one ways. But in this case I am talking about having flags for the same thing, for example, Denmark has a flag for it's postal service. Some countries have designs for when the flag is flown hanging vertically, others have looooong pennants for their ships, other not. But, one can only dream that vexillological comparisons could be carried out in equal footing. And can someone tell the nordic countries to choose if their naval flags should have two or three tails?"

"I have heard hundreds of times that 'you shouldn't put different designs on the two sides of the flag!', because it drives up costs, it's mirrored and 'strange'... bla bla bla. Those who tell you that can't see the creativity and originality in having two flags in one, go Oregon and Paraguay!"

"Unpopular opinion: The flag of Brazil isn't that good. Now, I could go on for ages talking about it, but I already talked about it in my podcast, so I'll send you off to there, but, mainly:

The location, size and everything about the stars is way to complex to be appreciated far away, and only helps to make the flag fuzzier. And although I appreciate the complex mathematical and astronomical calculations involved, I maintain that they're too much.

¿The motto in the middle? ¿Really?

Green and yellow don't fit together."

Now, this isn't in relation to the world map, but I still would like to write it down: "Recommendation to new vexillographers: don't make the mistake of trying to describe every little detail in a flag of yours when you are writing down a description of it. It just doesn't work like that, descriptions of flags are most of the time really vague, not so that you can reproduce it by the text alone, but as a mere formality. I learned this seeing what the Instagram user Flagible used to post on flag descriptions and so on. And I think I did a pretty good job here: https://www.worldanvil.com/w/las-islas-de-las-nueces-gortius-viii/a/algunas-descripciones-vexilologicas-article.

Thank you very much for reading.

[llycaons]

Section Seven: The Dumpster Fire

*If your fic is on here, send me an ask and I’ll remove it. the point here is to poke fun and point out poor writing choices, not lambast amateurs*

Drawn from my exposure to some weird shit on ao3 and contributions from mutuals, these are fics that are so bad I’m posting them for the sole purpose of criticizing them and/or complaining about them. If you like bad plots or  nonsensical characterizations, come and have a laugh.

The Simplest Way Forward by harriet_vane

summary: one of the most generic, unjust, and soulless fics I’ve ever read. lwj has zero personality, wwx is extremely bland, and wen yuan’s mom is presented as criminally neglectful. the sex scenes are rote, mechanical, and devoid of passion or intimacy, and I felt negative chemistry throughout the entire work. jzx was an aggressive, uncouth homophobe, and jyl was a perfect pure angel whose decision to marry him had me baffled. almost impressive gold stars: the way a-yuan was written was legitimately excellent. accurate to his developmental age and genuinely touching. his abandonment issues and concept of family actually made me cry. a strange and unforgettable work

KILF (Knits I’d Like To Fuck in) by ScarlettStorm

summary: the sequel to the reluctantly recommended “For a Good Time, Call” includes and enthusiastically explores of every single thing that was slightly weird about that fic. quick summary of the main conceit: lwj and wwx are in a relationship, and wwx gets cold easily, and lwj decides to start a project to keep him warm. sounds cute? seemed cute! started out fine. but like the og fic, the relationship was just so lifeless and devoid of passion or chemistry. every chapter just made it painfully obvious that these weren’t cql characters to the op, they were (white) toys to play with. everyone talks like they’re trying to get an A in therapy. wwx is genderfluid, which is ofc fine but he said he wanted to be a stay-at home wife? and then he’s referred to as a ‘f*mboy’? uh nhs wears yoga pants...I love gnc characters but wwx and nhs are treated as very feminine to a degree that’s inappropriate especially given that nhs is frequenctly misread as gnc by white viewers due to his hobbies, which are not feminine by traditional chinese standards. jin zixuan is demisexual, I guess! wen qing is fucking jc! there’s nothing wrong with writing from what you know, but the characterizations were based off fucking...nothing from canon and actively disregarded canon and chinese fans’ input about characters. it was infuriating and it felt so disrespectful to every single creative voice involved in canon and I hated reading it so much

there was no plot and the majority of the fic focused on their home decor activities, which was boring as fuck, and their elaborate sex scenes, which were sooooo drawn out and pointless even when they tried to be ~character work~ and the fic further explored wwx making an OnlyFans and lwj participating in the most gratuitously sexual and crass way possible, but in a way that I THINK it was supposed to be sexy and titillating? I can’t even fucking tell! I didn’t like reading it! of course I respect sex workers but what WAS this! the romance writing truly did suck SO bad which is unfortunate because apparently the author is a professional romance writer? I had to take breaks multiple times because I kept getting genuinely upset and angry with it. who enjoys this? who enjoys this

highlighted excerpt:

“Nie Huaisang, nonbinary femme-leaning aromantic pansexual non-hierarchical polyamorous slut, at your service.”

- I’m embarrassed for the author

gold stars: the therapy talk may have been annoying but it did result in some heartfelt conversations and very satisfying depictions of wwx dealing with some shit and slowly recovering from it, which was kind of cool. like the previous fic in this series, it felt like the conversations led to actual progress and personal growth. also they fought in one of the scenes and I was so giddy because I thought they were about to break up, so it did give me that

Yunmeng Jiang loves their Sect Leader by Roselle_Storm

summary: this fic reads like a parody of those jc fans who refuse to think he’s ever done anything wrong. it’s short and funny and you can read the entire thing in a few minutes. the utter confidence of the author here. that the people of yunmeng know him intimately and love him. that he plays with war orphans and protects children. that he’s a tragic, self-sacrificing, self-loathing hero who is seen and recognized as such by his people. all this so completely at odds with his canon character and choices as to be enthralling

highlighted excerpt:

Yunmeng Jiang loves their Sect Leader and Jiang Cheng loves Yunmeng Jiang… but… no matter how hard they try; they cannot mend the broken heart of their beloved sect leader. They try and Jiang Cheng gives them all the love he has left but the pain on his heart is too deep for them to heal.

Jiang Cheng hurts every day. He hurts but he has to keep going. [...]

[Jin Ling] sees how Jiang Cheng plays with the children, the orphans of war. He takes care of their needs, and never neglects any of them.

- I CANNOT get over the 'plays with war orphans’ line for a character who openly advocated to abandon political prisoners, including a toddler, to mass murder. someone who has never played with a child once on screen and does not have a playful personality in the slightest. someone canonically deeply bitter and resentful and self-pitying and immature and emotionally volatile and aggressively violent. obsessed. enthralled

gold stars: it made me laugh very hard

my age has never made me wise by idrilka

summary: in the first few chapters of this insultingly characterized and poorly written postcanon get-together, an absurdly oblivious and incompetent wwx almost dies due to being bizarrely passive and bad at cultivation during a night-hunt. he later hears that lwj is planning to get married, and falls into a deep depression over it, because he’s just realized he wants to be the one to marry him.

jc gives wwx romantic advice like “YOU CAN’T GO WRONG WITH A COMB” yeah how did that work out for you, jc? also jc is The One Who Knows wwx somehow even though he tries to hide his true feelings, oh he can’t fool his brother! like ofc he can! that’s a huge part of their dynamic! wwx is also much more admiring and appreciative of jc here that is canon. also jc is really awful and emotionally manipulative and it’s just? not treated as an issue?? wwx never talks to him about it or set boundaries even though jc’s behavior makes him miserable?

as the miscommunication eventually starts to be sorted out in the most on-the-nose, unimaginative, boring way I could have imagined, I realized that lwj isn’t actually in this fic, it’s edward cullen from twilight. the excessive and yet generic declarations of love. the single-minded fixation on marriage. reluctance to have sex because they’re not married yet because he wants to adhere to some arbitary social standard his fiance clearly doesn’t care about, the readiness to marry two extremely young people who are also cousins (not canon to twilight but he WOULD), the weird presumptuousness regarding his love interest, the emphasis on family almost to the exclusion of what his fiance is actually comfortable with, etc. I think the phrase ‘I intend to do right by you’ is lifted directly from the pages of eclipse. like…he’s obsessed with doing things the ‘right way’ I do think honoring wwx is important to him but I just think the way he’s going about it is extremely unimaginative, impersonal, and most importantly, driven by what he wants instead of what wwx expresses to him that HE wants. canon lwj is so attuned to and respectful of wwx’s desires, whims, and emotional state, and so ready to accommodate him, that his fixation on this plan, and his forging ahead with it just feels so bizarre and out of left field when wwx varies in his responses so much.

also lwj is way too concerned about what others think - in canon lwj hates that wwx is being judged, but he’s not going to scramble to accommodate others and uphold the social conventions to appease them. in his mind if they have a problem, THEY should be the ones accommodate WWX instead. this lwj is so concerned with doing the right thing in regards to wwx so that he’s accepted by the world, when in canon lwj thinks wwx should be able to do whatever he wants and the rest of the world needs to deal with it. like his entire character arc is about rejecting mainstream judgements and trusting/believing in wwx and their shared moral compass. so who IS this man

overall this plot is nonsensical, the dialogue is heavy-handed and uninteresting, the characterizations are a mess, and there’s weird undertones of feminizing wwx that I really dislike (he mentions not having a DOWRY and there being no BRIDE PRICE). everything is so plain and unsubtle and spoon-fed to us, it’s really not a well-written piece. and this lwj is so ooc and unpleasant and boring, and he talks way too much. also there’s jl/lsz dropped in casually.

gold stars: the letters between lwj and wwx are actually quite substantial and interesting, which is a rarity among these types of fics. and the final wedding chapter is really sweet and passionate and I liked it. everything in the middle tho. pass

Twin Heroes by RavenclawLoki

summary: a hilariously ooc reconciliation work. more absurd than offensive. has nearly every bad jc take under the sun. pretending that wwx and jc both have the same amount of mistakes to work on. saying that jc always believed/hoped wwx had survived the fall. jc mentioning how revolting lwj and wwx holding hands is every two seconds. wwx loyally defending jc’s parenting skills even tho he canonically knows that jc has serious issues in the way he raises jl. and other stuff, like having jl lock wwx and jc in a room together, and having lwj being okay to just stand outside it. because wwx and jc are young children who will get along if they’re forced to spend time together, I guess? no effort to respect either of their stated needs and preferences. of course not. they don’t need space or time or support or trust to rebuild a healthy relationship. just force them to spend time together! also there’s like, sibling telepathy that’s not explained? the writing is also quite juvenile and awkward

highlighted excerpts:

“Wei Wuxian…”

“Jiang Cheng…”

“I don’t want to fight anymore!” Both yell out at the same time.

“Wait, really?” They say again at the same time.

- is this an american children’s show? are these characters 12 years old?

gold stars: sometimes it’s very funny in ways that MIGHT be intentional.

Drive the Wolves From My Door by InTheGreySpaces

summary: postcanon wwx, on his travels, runs into a pregnant teenager who’s been assaulted and takes her under his wing. due to some contrived, frustrating, drawn-out, and extremely nonsensical bits of miscommunication, lwj becomes convinced wwx is returning home with a wife and shuts himself away in his home so wwx, when he comes back to gusu, can’t even clear things up immediately. literally everyone knew the truth at one point but lwj was physically locked in his house. christ. like what happened to not jumping to conclusions and trusting wwx? you’re going to believe this on a vague message and the word of SECT LEADER YAO??

eventually things gets sorted out, but not before wwx magically takes on her pregnancy pains and they have to scramble to cure him of the spiritual attachment because…wwx going through the pain of childbirth would be so bad, but this teenager can do it just fine don’t worry about her. in the end wwx and lwj adopt the baby, which is cute, but then the young mother ends up marrying jc, which is not.

the oc baby is named "aimi' which based on every source I could find, is a terrible fake chinese name

I think it’s rather misogynistic and callous to make a woman’s sexual assault a set dressing to support a m/m romance, and then co-opt a survivor’s story to center the men who save her. the disrespect of her as a person all throughout…jc was a man of almost 40 and she was a teenager when they met. she was used as a plot device the entire fic and in the end she’s rewarded to this asshole like a prize. wwx also treats her very poorly (lying to her, revealing info about her without her consent, distracting her so he can sneak off, etc.) while pretending to protect her. the misogyny isn’t ooc for any of them, but I hate that the writing goes along with it too. a struggle from start to finish

highlighted excerpt:

‘Once Jiang Cheng sets his mind to something, it is done thoroughly. He will treasure her as a jewel no doubt….She will keep Jiang Cheng in line, and he will shower her with every affection. She deserves it after everything she has endured.’

- why is it this woman’s job to keep him in line...she doesn’t have a particularly strong personality anyway, and no she does not deserve this?!

gold stars: it’s nice when wx get a baby girl. and wwx being so very in love is cute. otherwise ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Everyanything by deliciousblizzardshark, lingeringdust

summary: to be fair I never finished this fic, but basically qin su kills herself out of grief/revenge like mxy did in canon, and wwx comes back in her body. but instead of qin su’s canon situation. she’s locked in a filthy shed with a baby by the time she does the sacrifice. so it’s basically genderbent mxy with a baby? the emphasis on wwx’s post-res body really weirded me out, going on about massive, leaking breasts and all, and the discomfort of…a period? maybe? I guess being in A Woman’s Body is just aches and pains and leaking from who knows here. also, wwx doesn’t know the word for vagina which is absurd enough to land it on this list even without the undertones of feminization.

highlighted excerpt:

“The baby has to be changed and fed,” Wei Wuxian said. Lan Wangji gave him a suspicious look.“We will fetch food for the child,” he said. Wei Wuxian blinked at him, then laughed nervously. “Ah, Hanguang-jun,” he said. “Babies this young don’t eat food. I have to feed him myself.” - lwj doesn’t know about breastfeeding. maybe not too unbelievable given the separation of genders in his sect but that seems extreme gold stars: well I guess wwx is trans now so there’s that

all that glitters by notinamillionyears

summary: ah, the infamous christian wwx fic. the author was projecting, I guess? so this is already a red flag for me in fan content - I know chinese christians exist of course, but I don't like to see wuxia characters reimagined like that this fic in particular goes to such lengths to give him long philosophical monologues about god and cathedrals that this character is entirely unrecognizable from canon wwx in literally every single way. wwx is a character from a chinese wuxia series, the folklore and worldbuilding of which is extremely significant to his personal journey and character, and draws heavily from taoism. furthermore, the worldviews of taoism and christianity are so fundamentally different that any change to these characters' underlying belief system will almost inevitably alter them as people in ways I am utterly uninterested in. and erasing the canon spiritualities and realities of these characters to replace them with christianity is also incredibly disrespectful and tone-deaf. nonsensical, insensitive, and poorly characterized as this is, it easily qualifies as one of the worst fics I’ve ever read. and few of his ramblings even make sense for his personality or apply to anything he goes through in canon. imo wwx is not wwx if he's christian. he's just not. and don't even get me started on 'catholic lwj' or fans trying to characterize the lan sect as catholic. not in this fic but the posts I have seen about it... also there’s some kind of creepy ageplay-related content but I genuinely find the christian thing worse. in the words of a beloved mutual: what are you, a missionary? highlighted excerpt: Lan Zhan swallows hard, then again, his beautiful Adam’s Apple bobbing like he’d eaten something he didn’t chew properly and it’s stuck in his throat. Is it called Adam’s Apple because it got stuck in Adam’s pharynx after he’d realized that he’d eaten the thing that would chuck him out of heaven? Are Adam’s Apples here to remind us that we have a sin embedded forever into our body, that it’s inescapable? - I think wwx has had enough to deal with in his life, without being forced to perceive himself and his life through the filter of christian sin. leave him alone gold stars: actually, the fic is pretty good on a technical level. I have no complaints about the plotless, atmospheric, meandering story. the broad emotional strokes of it - desperate, reflective and tragic - really did draw me in, the language evocative and rich. and there were some passages about wwx’s chronic pain that I felt were quite moving.

Taste of Heavenly Rush by Tomorrow (Sux2Succs)

summary: an extremely offputting and unpleasant roleplay fic, albeit with an interesting twist that retroactively legitimizes many previous interactions. the setup is that wwx, bored and neglected by his nameless husband, is approached by a sexy sexy rich stranger who buys him food and brings him up to his penthouse for sex. wwx gives his name as ‘xie lian’ and the stranger (obviously lwj) gives his as ‘hua cheng’. the thing is. wwx is still called wwx, but the narrative only calls lwj ‘hua cheng’, and he acts exactly like tgcf’s hua cheng does. so most of this reads as a pwp between hua cheng and wwx, which is deeply unappealing anyway but there are little moments where ‘hc’ comes on so strong and pushy it seems like he’s pressuring wwx into sex, hc is frequently possessive and presumptuous about someone he literally just met, or implies wwx owes him for the food. gritted my teeth through this nightmare until - it’s revealed about 3/4 of the way through that this was all an elaborately pre-planned roleplay, lwj IS the as-yet-nameless husband, and all the pushiness and possessiveness were in fact just kind of funny choices in a long playacting activity. but even as the atmosphere radically improves, the weirdness lingers. for most of the story, there’s almost nothing of the actual lwj shining through, and since their personalities are faked and then it’s so physical, it feels like there is nothing emotional or genuine between them. maybe this is all down to personal taste, but i just don’t like reading wx fics where they’re not acting like themselves on purpose. furthermore, the fact that lwj is just playing hc strips away what’s interesting and vulnerable and compelling not just about lwj but also about hc himself. the person in this fic is neither, just a caricature of an extremely rich and unrealistically sexy, confident Manly man with a dash of god worship. it felt like he walked right out of twilight (which I’ve read) or even fifty shades of gray. canon lwj can’t even lie and we’re supposed to believe he can keep up this level of roleplay? he’s just not a playful person. unless this is just really close to how the author treats him anyway which….1. ew and 2. ooc!! does the author really see every gay couple as the Tall Muscular Manly Rich Confident Top and the Shy Unsatisfied Feminine Emotionally Needy Giggly Vain Bottom????  finally, I understand that writing a wwx POV pre-reveal without letting the secret out must have been tricky, and they do pull off some fun and clever bits, but there are multiple scenes where wwx’s internal dialogue makes literally no sense when you know he knows it’s lwj, so the reveal is impossible to predict and feels less satisfying afterwards (or on a reread). wwx also references multiple times that it’s been a long time since he’s felt so sexy or that he’s had the thrill of being with someone so exciting, so that points to his life with lwj being boring or unfulfilling, which kind of sucks. lwj is a busy surgeon, and wwx is left taking care of their kid and apparently not getting his needs met, framed like he’s some unsatisfied housewife, so like, I guess his married life sucks? that’s not what I want for them! this is set in shanghai, so I also found it weird that wwx described men multiple times as “asian”, first of all that’s a huge variety of people, and second of all HE’S asian and living in/from an asian country so why would he mention that? and I can’t emphasize enough how goofy this shit was written. self-aware or no, it was bad. they described a dick as “a delectable flared mushroom’. they also embedded links to various expensive outfits, rooms, hot tubs, etc, which was supposed to set the scene I guess but it was both distracting and came off as desperate and over-compensating, and seemed to be more about self-indulgent fantasies of luxury than about the characters. wwx is canonically not the kind of person to care about grandiose displays of nauseating wealth, something he actually mentions in the fic itself, but it doesn’t seem to matter, bc the author certainly thinks we should be impressed and that the characters are impressed as a matter of course. but he literally hates that shit in canon! highlighted excerpts (yeah, multiple)

“Come here,” the naked god beckons.

... By the time they enter a bedroom, [he’s] is heedlessly bouncing on his cock, wantonly humping and grunting like a wild beast.

...

Thick black hair is sent tumbling down, ends reaching all the way to his shoulder blades — long enough now to cover his chocolate nips like Lady Godiva. and the big one As if Wei Ying didn’t feel outclassed enough, he doesn’t miss the sparkling diamond bezel around the black dial of his platinum Rolex. A watch like that would make Wei Ying’s hands look feminine in size while his hands make the watch itself look small. It suits him.

this dynamic is all wrong, too. in canon, wwx never feels intimidated or outclassed by lwj’s wealth or physical appearance - rather, he feels excited and challenged by lwj’s skills and looks. he feels he’s found an equal! he enjoys finding someone who can reach his level, not the other way around. the fic that has him say ‘so what? there are like a crap ton of rich people in this world’ captured him so much better than this did. it makes lwj looks like an ooc tool and wwx ooc and shallow, and I hate to see the forcing of wwx into a feminine role and lwj into a masculine one gold stars: the reveal saved this work from being about two genuine pieces of shit - a sleazy, opportunistic rich douchebag who uses his wealth to pressure lonely guys at bars into sex, and a petulent tool who cheats on his affectionate yet busy husband with some hot rando while his husband is off saving lives as a surgeon. where the author manages to make the double identity work both before and after the reveal, it’s a genuine treat. see this section: Wei Ying whispers, “Husband,” raising his chin a bit higher. But you knew that. - THIS is a fun little wink to readers who know the reveal, while acting in service of the game and characterizing both wwx and ‘hc’

you can find an actually decent fic about attempted wx rp on my rec page (And all the ways we meet (and meet again) by Aerlalaith), in Part One, Section III. and it’s far more awkward, silly, in-character, and charming in its failures than this one is

Therapy is a Performative Act by cinder1013

I ran into this one and thought it looked intriguing. it was entertaining, but. it's bad. it's ooc and embarrassing and the author has some really weird blind spots. this is ripped from the post I made about it

summary: no plot or real narrative, just a selection of standup. this is fine, it’s just that for the most part the standup is quite bad and unfunny. jc calls wwx a q****r (the noun, not an adjective. not insultingly, but he’s presumably cishet in this work so 😬). he then gets in a zinger about how oblivious wwx is. he also makes lwj laugh because he’s just so funny I guess. the fic is full of images of outdated memes and images of real-life actor wzc. 

this author REALLY hates jfm. I get that he wasn’t great but it seems like some bias to pretend that he was worse than myu, who was emotionally and physically abusive to all her children. here he is homophobic while she is not. myu comes to jc’s comedy nights to support him and jfm stopped talking to him completely after coming to half of one, which as my mutual pointed out, is actually quite funny if you think about it like he disowned his cringefail son for being unfunny in public. jc calls myu a bitch in public FOR HIS ROUTINE which almost made me faint. like she would murder him if he did that in canon. actually murder him. jyl throws soup at jfm. for being homophobic. jc heroically stands up for a poor harassed barista, gets her phone number, and then gets married to her. myu hugs jc’s wife in public. jc is now expecting a child with his wife?? what universe is this where jc isn’t blacklisted by matchmakers and his mother is openly affectionate?

jc called wwx a ‘chaos gremlin’ like five times in part one. according to jc, wwx took all his halloween candy since it was his birthday which…okay I guess everyone’s ooc here. wwx dressed up as myu for halloween which is so ballsy I can’t believe myu didn’t actually murder him but in this setting it seems she’s cool with everything he does, she’s just….kind of mean? jc does an entire bit whining about how wwx only ever brought home cherry lollipops from the hospital, and not grape. this isn’t funny at all but ig it’s in character.

jc may be funny in the right circumstances, though I don’t think I could see him in such a vulnerable position as this and I think he would rather die than insult his mother in public in FRONT OF HER.

jc calls himself a peacock then has to clarify that his next bit about a peacock is referring to jzx and not himself, which seems like a convoluted and confusing way to write it. that bit is sooo long and boring oh my GOD. jc was exclusively referring to wwx as ‘the gremlin’ 😭 he keeps sidetracking his own story to tell off people he’s worried will photoshop him as a furry, which is really annoying. also jc tells the crowd ‘my kink is not your kink’ which implies he’s a proshipper in this one??? or something?? man I never trust that phrase

mainly this was a lot of secondhand embarrassment and muttering ‘oh they would not do that’ and ‘ough, that’s so ooc and annoying’

gold stars: the concept is inherently quite funny. also some of the heckling got a laugh out of me

And Time Is But a Paper Moon by sami                

summary: so I haven’t read this beyond the first few paragraphs, but my mutual gave me the details so I’m going to largely paraphrase from our discord convo about it

setup: wwx, decades postcanon, having lived a full and happy life with lwj, including children and grandchildren, sends himself back in time to redo his life from birth. he’s born with full sentience as an older man and complete memory of his past life. he does this because jc is unhappy

I dislike time travel fics in general, but especially so for wwx because while he has a lot of regrets, one of his greatest strengths as a person is to keep looking forward and find joy and home and family, whatever circumstances he’s in. imo it’s this powerful character trait of his that makes his first death so shocking and tragic, and a time-travel fix-it neatly misses this very important and thematically resonant aspect of about his character

there are fully 44 works in this popular series and I haven’t read any of them, so I’ll summarize my favorite points

-he never tells lwj about his past life

- jc apparently hasn’t done anything wrong and as soon as myu realizes wwx is going to marry out of the sect she becomes really chill. she also goes through all of wwx’s memories and then gives him and lwj sex advice based on it. treated as normal

- the lans are ‘cartoonishly evil’ and the author asserts that their forms are useless and should be discarded. I think the author had themself a little grudge

- wq married herself a feminist when she married jc because he let her keep her last name. just like every single other couple did in ancient china

- author got mad when they were corrected about cultural inaccuracies

- jzx kills jgs and nobody really cares despite patricide being the BIGGEST no-no

- ‘queerplatonic qingxicheng’ WHAT

- some random straight couples: wen ning/qin su, jgy/madam mo, lqr/madame jin. very strange

- some direct quotes: “the only ppl who knew the full truth about wwxs previous life where all the women is his life, which had some weird gender vibes (i think madam yu might have even had some internal monologue about how ~men cant handle the truth~).”

- “jcs whole misogynistic list of demands for his wife is waved away with oh its cause hes ace and is just describing his sister :)))”

in conclusion: the author sounds like a racist idiot who doesn’t understand the characters and is way too into the Divine Feminine, or wheel of time-style gender essentialism. the idea of wwx giving up a hard-earned life of family and happiness for jc’s sake AGAIN is genuinely one of the most insulting and depressing things you could do to him after he’s started to learn to move on from the pain of the past, set boundaries, accept love, and process his trauma in a supportive environment

if he were to ever find himself in this situation, he would definitely be more focused on jyl and the wens being, you know, ALIVE, than jc getting what he wants

gold stars: yeah, right

I think this one wins actually. not having read it, I can’t say for certain, but this definitely sounds worse than KILF, my personal least favorite of the list. being so long, it has more opportunities to be fucking awful. but maybe it had hidden gems I don’t know about too!

this is it for the anti-rec list…for now. I’ll continue browsing my history to see if I can find anything else as bad as this. feel free to send in YOUR most hated cql/mdzs fanfic and why, and I’ll take a look! happy reading!

Back to Start

[residentdormouse]

hi! this is a sign to talk about glen bateman. tell me about your headcanons, or explain your favorite scenes, or just gush about how great he is! whatever you have to say, i want to hear it. :)

Open Floor to talk about Glen?

Are you sure about that?

Eh, doesn’t matter. Too Late. No take backs; already off…

Going to have to do Headcanons. Favorite scene? All of them. Gushing? Would never end and would drift off into incoherent screeching. This is me controlling myself...

So going off of the 2020 version, because let’s face it, that’s the one that hooked me, (Goddamn it, Kinnear, I blame you…) Glen sees a future image of Fran in his dream. He doesn’t know who this is. It means nothing to him. Hell, Mother Abagail was just ‘some lady from a commercial’; no reason this woman would be any different. Figment of his imagination. His mind working around a (family) life he had opted out of long ago.

(Kids? Hard pass.)

But then Stu comes, and everything hits. Mother Abagail. Fran. Just what this means.

He is somehow doing impossible things. Things he would have discredited only a month prior. He wasn’t lying when he was giving his speech to Harold; he was (is) a man of science. He believed what could be seen. What could be proven. He married a physicist for fucks sake. “Hard science.” Maybe this stuff could exist, but he sure as shit wasn’t taking it on blind faith. Give him something, or get the hell out of here.

(And it’s dream prophesies with the steel chair…)

So now for things that aren’t explicitly stated. Headcanon.

In light of this revelation, Glen would be left to wonder what else could have been ‘more’. Mother Abagail was the “most vivid dream” he ever had, but Fran’s must have been pretty damn vivid to paint what he did. What else had he dreamt that had a deeper meaning? Places? Events? Maybe it was an image leading him to a paint spot that put him on the path to run into Stu? Or a trip out that would have brought Kojak to him? Potentially even before that…

I imagine he had quite a few nights on the road lost in thought over this. Because, that’s what Glen does, thinks. Comes up with theories.

It is very probable that he’s seen a few things he naturally passed up as coincidence. The world ending up like this, society causing its own downfall, that didn’t surprise him. Pretty sure, he knew something like this would happen. But was that from his studies of humanity, or because he already had vague notions in his head of this outcome.

(Both? I don't know...)

With no proof, a dream of destruction like this would have just been a nightmare. With knowledge now, it could have been preparation. Along those lines, did he know his wife would pass early? So much loss, did it subconsciously affect his decision about kids? About his future path? Maybe not, but maybe…

And its possible this wasn’t all just in the past either. In this version, Glen recommends sending Tom as a spy, because he thinks he could do it. But Glen’s interaction with Tom - limited, at best. I’m sure there’s moments that wouldn’t have been screen worthy, there’s been a fair passage of time here, but nominations were coming from groups in. Fran’s group had Dayna. Larry had Judge Farris. Tom was with Nick. Why was Glen the one to bring it up? I think he might have seen something that led him to feel more confident in this recommendation. I think he had a feeling, somewhere in the back of his mind, that Tom would make it out.

(Even though he desperately wanted somebody to say anybody else.)

I don’t know, this could be completely off base, but these are things I think about. Repeatedly. Because this damn character will not leave my mind. And hey, worse things to think about, am I right?

Glen Bateman > Real Life Bullshit.

Sign me up for the Glen show, all day every day.

[silkscream]

wipe your blood off the concrete

pairing: peter parker x reader

synopsis: you are peter’s best friend in the whole world. the two of you can barely hold back your feelings for each other after peter is beaten badly after a night on patrol. he takes you by surprise when he insists the two of you go to a party afterwards and things get very confusing.

warnings: smut (18+ only), mentions of blood, mentions of mental illness/anxiety/panic attacks, alcohol use, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, protected sex

genres: best friends to lovers, uni!peter, hurt/comfort, mutual pining, fluff and angst and smut all in one

wc: 8k+

a/n: GOD this is a big bertha. i was listening i think you’re alright by jay som and then my brain spiraled entirely into... this. i recommend you listen to this song while you read. i could probably make a playlist based on this fic but i don’t want to self-indulge more than i already have. i’m a sucker for bffs to lovers, obviously. i’m also very wine drunk. do what this info what you will.

when i wake up in the morning

i’ll make you some coffee

we’ll lay about and let the day pass

College had taken a toll on Peter. He was an anxious boy, you knew this already. What you hadn’t seen in your years of knowing him was how hollow he could be, how he wouldn’t want to get up in the morning, how tight-lipped he could be in conversations when normally he’s always beaming. He doesn’t sleep at your place that much anymore because he hates to be a burden, even though you swear on your heart that you don’t mind helping him through his nightmares.

It often goes like this:

There are nights where Peter does unforgivable things. He watches Tony Stark die, he watches Aunt May look upon him in tears, he reaches out for your hand but you’re falling ten stories below him. It’s these nights where he shakes himself awake, suffocated by his own panicked breaths, but you’re usually right there to soothe him with hushed nothings in his ear. It’s an unspoken arrangement between the two of you that you don’t dare to discuss by morning. Besides, you’d had a few panic attacks of your own as you grew into your girlish flesh-suit, knobby limbs and scraped knees. Peter always liked you for how alive you always looked, even if you felt awkward roaming the earth in a body you were taught to dislike. You’re headstrong in your beliefs, however, and at your current age you’d been through enough bullshit to not fixate on the little problems you faced as a teenager. Peter considers you his rock, his other half. He often thinks it’s you who ought to bear the weight of a superhero. You’d do a better job than him, maybe.

It’s 10 am on a Friday and Peter is doing an awfully good job at zoning out the sound of you knocking on his door.

“Pierre,” you whine, holding a bag of donuts and a tray of coffees. “Let me in you son of a bitch.”

The lock on the door slides open. You’re met with a sleepy Peter, who’s traded his gangly figure to impressive biceps over the past five years. You try not to stare at how good his arms look in his fitted Led Zeppelin tee. You chuckle at the fact that he’s still wearing his boxers. Spiderman-patterned boxers, nonetheless. He groans. “Fuck, sorry. Real out of it today.”

“Oat milk, no sugar,” you smile at him, holding out your tray. You can see dark circles around his eyes. He must’ve been up late doing schoolwork or more technological advancements to his suit.

“You’re a godsend,” he murmurs, kissing your forehead as he takes the paper cup.

“Whatcha been up to?”

“Physics,” he yawns. “Waiting for you.”

“Peter, did you sleep at all last night?” you pester, poking his under-eye circles.

He shoots you a look of slight annoyance and shrugs.

You roll your eyes, gracelessly hopping onto his couch. Without a word, he topples onto you, settling his head on your lap as he flips through the front page of Netflix. You stroke your fingers through his curls. “You finish your work?”

“Yeah, you could say that,” Peter gripes.

“Is the Peter Parker slacking on his schoolwork?”

He grumbles and buries his face closer into your body, which makes your stomach flutter. “I finished everything, swear. Could probably spew out formulas in my sleep.”

“Get Tony to build you another EDITH but in reading glasses form. I’ll tap the answers to you. Or the formulas could probably just float across the lenses.” You steal the remote from him, much to his dismay and futile attempts to block you, and settle on a random episode of New Girl.

“Wow. We need more women in STEM like you.” You playfully smack the side of his face and it makes his nose scrunch up. Your fingers trace the freckles on his nose that aren’t very visible unless it’s the summer time, but you’re able to see them just from how close you are. The trance is broken at the vibration of your phone in your pocket, much to your relief.

He notices immediately how you chuckle at your screen, a smile lighting up your features. “Who’s that?”

“Um, Tinder message.”

“Can I see?” Peter asks, lifting his body to glance at your phone, though you swat him away. “Y/N, c’mon, I wanna see what goons are hitting on my best friend.”

“I don’t need your approval, Parker,” you giggle, holding your phone above your head. He intercepts it anyways, nearly falling into your lap and grabbing the phone. He blocks your squirming frame by laying his body on top of your sprawled out legs while his broad shoulders block your view.

“Tyler, 22, born and raised in Manhattan. Oh, please, business major? At NYU?” He swipes through the man’s pictures and squints. “‘You’ll probably see me hanging out with the dog at the party.’ Huh, how quirky and relatable of him.”

“Peter, give me my phone!” you half-laugh half-shriek, breathless from the fact that Peter’s weight is holding you down and preventing you from moving at all.

“Is he even your type? Seems like a dick honestly. You’re waaaay out of his league,” Peter muses mindlessly.

“And what exactly is my type, Parker?” Peter looks at you and opens his mouth, though nothing comes out. You smirk at him, able to flip him off of the couch and onto his carpet, snatching your phone from his hand as you sit on his chest. The two of you half-heartedly wrestle until you’re pinning him to the ground. “Tap out, motherfucker!”

“Ugh,” Peter huffs, sitting up slightly. “I’m serious, he looks like the president of a frat that’s on probation for some Title IX violations.”

“You’re an asshole,” you croon, shaking your head. “Let me get laid.”

Neither of you ever liked to address the pang of jealousy that came with seeing your best friend get attention from the opposite sex (okay, there were some girls enamored with you during your first semester of college, but you were too in your shell to actually follow through with anything). Secretly, Peter’s heart is dripping down to his shoes, but only slightly, of course. He’s laughing and teasing you the whole time, poking you in the ribs as you finally let him swipe through your Tinder. He sneaks a peek at your own profile, too, admiring how big and bright your eyes are in each photo — mostly which are photos he’s taken.

You’ve been on a few dates, give or take, but the end of the night is almost always instantly uncomfortable once things get physical. Peter Parker is like the devil on your shoulder, the New Moon-era Edward apparition to your Bella. You’ve been getting better at accepting that it’s him and always will be him. Even if you never have the guts to tell him.

___

i’ll wipe your blood off the concrete

take you to the party

we’ll drink until our brains black out

It’s past 8 pm when your texts to Peter quadruple. He’s usually very prompt and mindful in texting you back, especially when the two of you have plans to get Chinese takeout. The clock turns to ten when he finally answers.

peter: fuck

peter: can you cpme get m

peter: please

The bastard.

You swallow down your disappointment once you unlock your phone and the pit in your stomach is replaced with panic. Immediately, you tug on your shoes and grab your car keys.

___

“Peter!” you screech, seeing your battered friend on the concrete a few feet away from you. He’s struggling to breathe so he takes his mask off, exhaling heavily as he spits out a mixture of saliva and blood onto the pavement. Your eyes widen at the state of him — a bruise under his eye the shape of a crescent moon, a cut lip that’s still bleeding.

“Come here.” He’s able to get up, just barely, but he’s able to use you as a crutch as you usher him into your car. Luckily, this was a quiet neighborhood and your car was shielded by the dark alley. You wince at the sound of his groans in the backseat.

By the time you get to your apartment, his suit is completely off. You don’t expect to glance over to your backseat to see your best friend half-naked, though it’s nothing you haven’t seen before. It just makes something ache inside of you when you realize the damage of his wounds.

“What the fuck happened to you?”

“It’s okay! Just some attempted assault on some woman. It’s okay, NYPD came just in time.”

“Fuck NYPD,” you mutter under your breath. “I’m serious, Peter.”

“Shit,” Peter groans, clutching his side. The thought that enters your mind when you hear him is ungodly. “Fumbled the web-shooters so they were able to get the upper hand. Not to mention one of their buddies fucking… hit me with their car.”

“Jesus, Peter!” you exclaim. You can’t really berate him for getting hurt, though situations like this have you worried sick. You pull into your driveway and get out of the car to assist him.

“‘m sorry, y/n,” Peter huffs, grabbing your hand to support himself as he gets out of the car.

“Don’t apologize. This isn’t the first time you scared the shit out of me. I’m just glad you’re not dead.”

Peter darkly chuckles. Under the streetlight, his eyes look a bit amber, and the gaze he fixes on you isn’t something you can really fathom. It’s a look of tenderness. Your eyes dart to the other side of the street and back at him. “Stop staring, creep. Mrs. Wilkins will threaten to call my landlord if she sees me parading around a dude in his boxers at the dead of night.”

Peter shakes his head at you, laughing, but follows you into your home nonetheless. He follows you around like a stray cat as you rummage your bathroom for the first-aid kit. The glow of your bathroom light shows off your cheekbones, and he knows he can’t hide his affinity for you especially when you’re like this, tongue in your cheek focusing on the materials you have. He sits on the edge of your bathtub and watches you.

“Hydrogen peroxide, Neosporin, gauze…” you muse to yourself. Picking up the dark red bottle, you wiggle it towards him. “This is gonna sting.”

Pouring a bit onto a cotton round, you wipe it across his wounds gently. Peter braces himself but the stinging you warned him about is much worse than what he’s actually prepared for. “Fuck!” he cries out, his jaw clenching. He nearly hits you by accident but misses. He manages to stay still by holding your shoulder with his large hand, squeezing and cursing expletives. Your breath hitches at his strong grip. You could probably hear his heartbeat if he wasn’t breathing so hard. Your faces are inches apart as you rub his cheek, sliding a thumb down to his split lip.

“Um, here,” you stammer awkwardly, spreading Neosporin on his cheek and bandaging him up. You wrap gauze around his wrist and around his left knuckle which blooms red and purple hues. “Hmm. Boxer vibes.”

“I’m already healing,” he shrugs, looking down at the budding bruise on his chest. It’ss entering its stage of pale green already, which still freaks you out despite the fact you’d known about Spiderman for years. “Y’didn’t have to do all that. Thank you, though.”

“Anything for you,” comes out of your mouth without thinking. You try to stay casual with a tight smile but Peter’s eyes seem to flicker the slightest bit at your statement. You turn your heels to your bedroom to dig out some spare clothes of Peter’s that he tends to accidentally leave after he stays over. The habit has turned into him having his own drawer at your place. How domestic.

“You still going to that party?” Peter asks as he pulls on a pair of pants. Your back is turned, which is amusing for him considering how close you are. There was quite literally a picture of the two of you naked at the age of five on May’s mantle downstairs. However, he couldn’t help but notice how your eyes would mindlessly wander to his arms and stomach when he would talk to you lately. Maybe it was a fluke, but he liked — loved — holding your attention.

“What party?”

“The one at that senior’s house? I heard you talking about it with MJ.”

“Um, maybe, but I was too busy worrying about you, and I was under the impression that we were spending the night eating Chinese and watching horror movies. Why?”

“We should go.” You turn around and raise an eyebrow. Peter Parker liked socializing, you could say. He was enigmatic and adorable and easy to be around, but you know that he’d rather stay at home with his documentaries or Star Wars movies than getting shitfaced at a rando’s house.

“Peter, you just got the shit kicked out of you,” you mutter in disbelief.

“All the more reason,” he shrugs, walking past you to flop onto your bed. “You worry about me too much. Gotta let loose, babe.”

You scoff and roll your eyes. You always imagine yourself as a shadow compared to Peter, like a friendly apparition. Casper the ghost. It’s not that you’re an outcast — hell, Peter goes on and on about you to classmates and friends alike if they haven’t met you yet. You’ve never been friendless. But the thought of going to a party with Peter makes your stomach churn a bit. The few times you had, the two of you would be attached to the hip because of your shared shyness, but Peter’s evolved into someone who probably knew more people at university than you did. You didn’t want to be left alone. Slight anxiety settles over you. You look at him and his smile is pushing daisies up from the earth. You sigh. When you had said “anything for you”, you truly meant it.

___

You didn’t dislike parties, but any house party in the suburbs of New York felt like the setting of a bad rom-com, not to mention the good amount of losers you could attract by accidentally blinking their way.

“You look really pretty,” Peter whispers into your ear assuringly. You feel validated, yes, but also you’d be lying the feeling of Peter’s breath under your earlobe didn’t make your organs flip around in your body like primordial soup.

You frown at a mirror in the foyer. You had opted for a green printed mesh top that hugged your features, black jeans, and Peter’s old denim jacket. Peter follows your gaze and snakes a finger to your hair, twirling around a strand. “I mean it, Y/N.”

“AYYYY, PENIS PARKER!” roars from behind a couple making out. Lo and behold, Flash Thompson is suddenly in front of you, nestling a Corona in one hand and waving furiously at you both with another. He’s gotten taller somehow since the last time you saw him, which was quite literally graduation. You roll your eyes at his arrogance. To your surprise, Peter knocks fists with the kid and gives him a half-hearted side hug. “Oh shit, dude, what the fuck happened to your face?”

“This one right here gets a little too rowdy when she loses Monopoly,” Peter smiles, hanging an arm over your shoulders.

“Shut up,” you whisper, voice laced with venom as you shoot Peter a glare. “He’s lying. This one is just… incredible clumsy.”

“Jeez, she bite too? Hey, I know a guy who’s really into that kind of thing.”

“Okay, relax, Flash-your-tits,” you sneer.

“Wow, still the wicked witch of Forest Hills,” Flash retorts. His eyes scan you up and down, then to Peter’s arm around you. “Didn’t know you guys were a thing. When’d that happen?”

“We’re not—“ stumbles out of both your mouths in unison. Your face heats up immediately, though Peter is merely holding back a laugh.

“Right. Save your virginities, fellow comrades! It’s a scary world out there. ’s some liquor in the kitchen,” Flash slurs, immediately making eye contact with another poor soul who’s about to be subjected to a similar greeting.

“Freak,” you mutter under your breath as you saunter past a rowdy beer pong table. Without bothering to rummage through the stash that’s sat on the kitchen counter, you take the first bottle of cabernet sauvignon you see. Peter grabs a shot glass and pours himself some Tito’s.

He meets your eyes. “What?” he shrugs, knocking back the shot with a scrunched up face.

“Nothing, you just like, never drink,” you smirk. You decide to keep the wine for yourself — it was the cheap kind, anyway. You down a good amount so that you can get a little warmth into your stomach. The effect is slightly numbing.

“Yeah, but my metabolism’s all weird since the bite, remember? Surprised I haven’t tried to drink more. I think I’ve only been drunk like… once or twice?”

“Better go easy, there, Parker,” you tease, jabbing him in the ribs. He grunts just a bit and you gasp. “Oh shit, I’m so sorry.”

“Nah, ‘m only a little sore. I could still take you in a fight,” Peter snickers. He grabs a red solo cup and fills it with more Tito’s, not paying attention to the amount he pours in, and then fills it to the brim with some orange juice. You practically gag at the sight. Vodka was never your forté and you were sure that it wasn’t much of Peter’s thing either. And yet, here he is. You wonder about his out of character desire to come to the party but ultimately shrug it off.

___

Seeing it feels like a kick in the throat, your face flushing hot like molten lava, chest creaking like a wooden floor in a haunted house. You didn’t expect to get everything you wanted, did you? Of course not. So it shouldn’t hurt that much to walk outside in need of that crisp autumn air and accidentally be met with some blonde eating off the face of your best friend. The love of your life. You don’t remember what time it is. You actually don’t even remember that you had been looking for Peter at all, but the realization hits you in the face once you recognize his brunette little head getting his hair pulled by some Walmart-brand Blake Lively.

and god you’re so pretty

your smile’s unforgiving

i’ll place it where nobody can find

You’re in too much shock to even beckon to him, but you know that the gears in your brain are turning with bells and whistles shrieking abort, abort, abort, abort! Before you can so as much turn around, Peter pulls away from the girl and yells for you. His face is carnation-pink, lips reddish from the girl’s lipstick. He’s waving at you like a little kid but your head feels like it’s underwater.

“Hey! Y/N! Been looking all over for you!”

Embarrassed, you wave back meekly before sliding back into the house. You hear hushed whispers of “shit, was that your fucking girlfriend?”, maybe a mild slap, Peter mumbling the words “best friend” and “not dating” and “what was your name again?” You could laugh if you didn’t feel like a literal hole was burning into your chest like the end of a cigarette charring flesh.

Calm, calm, calm. We are calm.

You don’t even know what to do with yourself, really. Your mantra isn’t helping and if you take one more sip of your wine you might as well throw up. Your eyes flash in surprise at MJ walking towards you, smiling but then settling her face into a confused frown.

“Hey, Y/N, is everything alr—“ MJ attempted to intervene, but you smile and nod your head maniacally as you pace through the house past her.

“I’m great! Fine. Um, I gotta go…”

You and MJ aren’t as close as you were in high school, but she knows well enough what you’re like when you’re in a state of crisis. She calls your name but you’ve dashed out of her grasp. She stares after you, puzzled, right before Peter nearly knocks into her, a collision of whiplash. The poor brunette stares wildly at the boy.

“Jesus, Parker, are you good?”

“MJ! Hi!” Peter exhales. His eyes are the size of flying saucers. He grips MJ’s shoulders and doesn’t realize the volume of his voice, which makes spectators around them look on curiously. “Listen, have you seen Y/N? I gotta talk to her.”

“Um, yeah, she went that way… dude, are you drunk?”

“No! Yes? All of the above,” he replies hurriedly, moving into the foyer and up the stairs.

You can’t really explain your emotions, process them even, so you do give into the wine bottle. Might as well detonate the bomb. Before Peter can call after you, you escape his field of vision in the hallway and immediately slip into the upstairs bathroom without him seeing you.

You stare at your reflection. There’s no point in crying, you think. Peter’s too good at prying and you’re too bad at explaining. It’s best not to worry him. Isn’t it? You want to believe you’re capable of staying sane with your little crush. Your stupid unrequited crush. You realize you’d have to reach into your guts and rip out all that you feel for Peter in order to get over it. It was best to drown out all those feelings now until you passed out. Maybe Michelle could take you home. Or a kind stranger could seduce you. Or you ‘accidentally’ fall out of the window and escape Peter’s questioning by being in a literal coma for a few days so you can forget the image of him kissing that girl that’s burned into your brain.

You frown at your reflection. You look pretty, Peter was right. It’s a miracle your makeup is still intact. Your under-eye liner is smudged a bit but the glitter on your cheekbones reflects even with this shitty bathroom lighting. With the alcohol inside you, everything seems to melt, like the walls are sweating and closing in on you. Before you’re able to control your breathing, the sound of your name reaches your ears like a harsh wind. It’s coming from your favorite voice in the whole world. Pounding on the door ensues.

“Hey! Y/N?”

“It’s… it’s occupied, sorry,” you caution in a high voice.

“Y/N, I know that’s you in there! Can you please let me in?” Peter begs. More raps on the door. You stay silent, staring at the sink.

“Please, Y/N, something bad’s happened… MJ’s…um…” Peter yells. You furrow your brows in worry. God, I can’t get a break. What a cursed fucking party.

Profanities are mumbled to yourself as you finally open the door. Peter rushes in and backs you into the wall, shutting the door promptly behind him and locking it. You gasp at how quickly he manages this without the two of you colliding, his swift movement and your intoxicated state dizzies you. Peter settles his palms on the wall, trapping you in between his arms.

“What happened to Michelle?” you glower. Peter sighs with a look of defeat and avoids your gaze.

“Nothing. Just needed you to let me in.”

“You asshole,” you roll your eyes and vociferate. Your teeth are gritted — you can’t bear to look at his face, but you do. Peter’s puppy dog brown eyes are boring into yours with desperation behind them. He takes his palm from the left of you and tilts your chin up, to which you shake your head in rejection.

“Hey, hey, look at me.” So you do. Your faces are inches away from each other. You can feel his hot breath in your face. It makes your body feel even hotter.

“What do you want, Peter?” you whisper.

“Want to talk to you,” he slurs.

“Okay, so talk.”

“Why were you running away from me?”

You scoff. You almost want to tell him the truth, but you can’t. “I’m in a bad mood,” you mumble. “I don’t need this right now, okay? I want to be alone. Why don’t you go back to that blonde? She seems to like you an awful lot.”

“Who— what? Are you… are you jealous?”

“Who you take home is none of my business, Parker, I swear on my heart. I’m a big girl, I can get an Uber by myself. Don’t worry about it,” you spit back at him. “Okay? Can I be left alone, please?”

“But I wanna be alone with you,” he confesses, absentmindedly twisting your hair between his fingers again. You didn’t think anything of it until now because this is something he always does. It’s as easy to him as breathing or blinking. But at the moment, he’s staring at your collarbone and your neck and the side of your jaw. You make eye contact with him and you gulp. Lipstick is smeared from the corner of his mouth like a streak of wine on a white sheet. The space between you feels like television static, like a red string you’re dying to pull into a knot to close the distance.

Instead, Peter does it for you. You blink once and his mouth is on yours, and you taste the other girl’s lipstick and mandarin oranges and a hint of copper from his bloody lip. You breathe in the smell of your own shampoo, which Peter keeps in his apartment for you even though he secretly uses it when you’re not around. His hand is gripped to your jaw, tongue peeking into your mouth as he pushes into your body. The hurt inside you crawls out of your throat and spreads your body like a blessing instead — a baptism, a rebirth.

His hands are to your sides now, pushing the mesh fabric of your shirt up so he can palm the skin of your upper hip. You sigh into him as he massages the skin lightly and he responds to your sounds with a subtle moan. You feel like your knees are buckling to his touch as your heat gets wetter and wetter.

“Touch me, Y/N,” Peter whispers in between your kisses. A whine emits from the back of his throat when you tug on his hair just slightly.

You pull away suddenly, though Peter doesn’t see this as a halt. He simply peppers wet kisses to your earlobe and down your neck. You sigh deeply and give him a slight push to the chest.

“What, what’s wrong?” he whispers. He’s drunk on you, maybe literally considering he lost count of how many shots he’d taken. He looks like an angel like this, brown hair mussed up with smoothed out curls falling over his face and a just-bitten pair of pink lips.

You touch the band-aid on his face. “You’re drunk, Peter.”

“Yeah? I know. So are you.”

“That’s the problem. I don’t want you to regret anything,” you mumble, biting the inside of your bottom lip.

“I couldn’t… I won’t. You know how much I love you, right?” Peter pleads. He’s breathless at the sight of you. You look away.

“Don’t say shit like that, Peter. You’d… you’d never say that sober.” Hurt flashes over Peter’s face as he listens to your words. He wants you to believe him so badly and he’s too drunk to process what you could be feeling. All he feels is that he wants to be absorbed into you at this very moment. His brain doesn’t even register the actions that made you upset in the first place.

“That’s not true, Y/N, you know that,” he urges. His thumb swipes over your inner eye, where a salty tear has fallen. His voice is hoarse, raspy, raw. “I only want you.”

You close your eyes and shake your head, tears flooding your cheeks that he tries to kiss away gently. “Why are you doing this?” you croak.

“What am I doing, baby?” he whispers, taking you in his arms and cradling you. Your cheek is against his warm chest and you can feel his beating heart. It ticks like a clock, which somehow comforts you in the most minuscule way. His tender knuckles are in your hair, combing your locks softly. Peter wants to find every jagged piece of you so that he can soothe it like nighttime tea and a spoonful of honey. Would you hate him for it?

“This is fucked up, Peter.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry” is whispered through hushed breaths against your hair. You pull back after a few minutes, embarrassed at how red your eyes must look. He cups his hands on your cheeks, tilting your face to look up at him. “I’m not lying to you. I… I love you so much that it scares me sometimes because you’re my best friend. I always get scared that I’m gonna lose you. And… and I don’t even know that girl. The one I was making out with. I think I just needed a distraction from you.”

An awkward beat.

“I don’t know why I got so drunk. I think because patrol was so fucked up and I’ve been having more nightmares, and I was scared that if I told you I loved you tonight that I’d fuck everything up, and I wouldn’t remember, and I couldn’t find you anywhere…”

You shush his rambles with your lips against his.

“I love you, too,” you whisper, wiping your eyes. “Always have. It scares me too.”

“Really?”

“Yes, you idiot, I thought it was obvious. You scare the shit out of me sometimes.” The two of you laugh darkly at your mutual drunken states. Your mutual confessions, the fear of your mutually assured destructions. The moment was making your heart swell up like a balloon.

A rude awakening breaks through with a pounding on the door. “HEY, ARE YOU GUYS DONE FUCKING? SOME OF US HAVE TO PISS.”

The two of you are broken out of your spell. You both erupt into laughter. You wipe your face with your sleeve as you open the door. Your toothy smile flashes the unfortunate spectator when you open the door.

Flash stands there with a look on his face that is both bewildered and dopey. His eyes flit between you and Peter, mouth agape.

“All yours, babe,” you taunt, holding Peter’s hand as he follows you across the hall.

___

i’ll be your old broken tv

your stuttering baby

your puppy when nobody’s home

He can barely take his hands off you once you get the door of your apartment unlocked. Immediately, his hands are all over you, pushing up your top to reveal your stomach. He kisses you roughly which has your head spinning.

“Peter… I—“ you giggle in-between kisses. He can’t detach himself from you. He doesn’t want to. He takes matters into his own hands and rips your jacket off for you, picking you up effortlessly so that your legs are around his waist until both of your bodies collapse into your bed.

You feel like you have motion sickness. Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the uneasiness of letting yourself fall blind to Peter’s desires. He knows how stubborn you are about literally everything and he doesn’t know how to fully convince you how much he wants you. He’s hovering over your body, forehead to forehead, pawing at your clothed body. “You’re so pretty,” he says, thumbing your cheek.

His eyes are glistening like the earth wet from being kissed by autumn rain. You swear to yourself it’s just lust but you know this is exactly how he looks at you when you’re just there. Existing. In his room, on his lap, on his fire escape in the middle of the night. You’ve always noticed but decided you’ve made it up in your head. But he really does love you like this, vulnerable and soft like a cherub out of heaven. He could certainly get used to the sight of you underneath him. His mouth turns up into a grin.

“What’s got you so happy?” you coo.

“You,” he breathes, dipping his head back down to meet your mouth.

“Cool,” you mumble in between your kisses, sighing as you feel Peter massage little circles underneath the hem of your shirt. “What’re you thinking about?”

“Mmm, lots,” Peter sighs. “There’s this girl… thought she’d never… like me back. But I think she does.”

“Tell me about her.”

“Well, she’s a hard one to chase down, y’know? She’s too pretty and smart for literally anyone. And she’s really good at playing with my hair, and knowing everything I like, and beating me at wrestling. And she smells like flowers. And looks like flowers.”

“Hmm, sounds like a catch,” you flash him a candy-sweet smile. The glow between you two is bioluminescent. Every part of you that Peter touches feels like electricity.

“Mhm. That you are,” Peter nods. He’s feeling feverish, sobering up from his many shots but still drunk on the sight of you. In the past few months, Peter feels like he’s only present between peripherals and the only time he’s even remotely tuned in to the world is when you’re beside him. His mind is swamped with only you and your kiss tastes like honey dripping into his mouth.

A low hum reverberates from your throat as you feel Peter’s lips on your neck. He settles back to your lips like he’s diving underwater. He doesn’t care about coming back up for air. Your brows knit in concentration as you try to pull him closer, despite the fact he’s basically falling through you like fog. Your brain is begging him to devour you, burn you, lick up all the hurt inside your chest from the night.

“Can I touch you, please?” Peter asks carefully, his voice low, brain spell-bound.

You nod fervently, heart beating out of your chest when you’re suddenly aware of how hard he is. Peter helps you slip out of your shirt and your jeans, leaving you in your underwear. He can barely breathe. He chuckles like he’s seeing something that shouldn’t be possible.

“Don’t laugh when you just stripped me naked, freak,” you chastise, covering yourself up with your arms.

“‘m not teasing you. I’m… I just can’t believe it. How pretty you are.”

“Shut up and touch me, Parker.” Peter feigns a look of seriousness before attaching his lips to your bare stomach. He loves the way your body reacts to his touch, breaths rising and falling to the pitter-patter of his heartbeat and his fluttered eyelashes. He teases you with kisses close to your center and descending down your thighs. You whine at how sensitive you feel, coaxing his head forward with your hands.

“Okay, needy,” he taunts, which makes you whine in response. He slides your underwear down your legs and doesn’t hesitate to lap you up at your clit. You gasp in response. He’s ravenous in the way he works, responding to all your little sounds by gripping your thighs harder until you’re nearly bruising. Your mouth gapes open wider when he slides in one finger, then two into your pussy, your wetness making his entrance easy.

“Jesus, fuck, where did you learn that?” you ask breathlessly as he pumps his fingers in and out of you in all the right places.

“Secret,” he murmurs, pausing his sucking to curl his fingers into your walls in a way that makes your insides flip. You immediately feel a pressure inside your core that slowly rises like a rollercoaster rolling upwards on a track. He brings his tongue back to your bud and scissors his fingers in a way that makes your hips buck upwards, which makes him lose his balance a bit. He chuckles, adoring the sound of your moans and the way your long eyelashes blink rapidly like a butterfly’s wings.

“Say my name,” he groans, desperate to hear your voice.

“Fuck,” you moan. “Fuck— Peter, just like that. Oh my God, Peter!”

He decides right then that his name sounds like it was made for your mouth, how it sounds like a hymn, a magic spell, a word invented by you, his creator. You grab fistfuls of his chestnut curls as you feel your body plunge into saccharine warmth. You surprise yourself with your restrained moans; you don’t recognize the sound of your voice. Peter’s moans echo yours as he watches you come undone. His lips part at the way you come, gazing at the way your body flexes like a viscous liquid with your hair fanning the sides of your face like Juliet on a bed of roses.

“Peter!” you strain, breathing heavily on the comedown. You blink at him, bleary-eyed, tasting yourself on his tongue once he reaches up to kiss you again. “Take your clothes off. ’s not fair that I’m fully naked and you aren’t.”

“Anything for you,” he says, echoing your words from earlier that night. You think that maybe you’re melting or you’ve been struck by lightning. Peter blesses you for your request because his cock is quite literally straining against his jeans. He can’t believe you’re real — that this version of you is real and right in front of him, instead of being a dizzying made-up thought in his brain. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t fantasize about what your pussy feels like, how you’d sound with your toes curling into the mattress as he fucks into you. He’d always shake the thought of you after he comes when he’s alone, embarrassed after his orgasms when he’d come back to reality. But now he doesn’t have to. You’re fulfilling his dreams at this very moment.

Not even thirty seconds pass before he’s stripped just like you. Your mouth waters at the sight of him. You’re convinced he must be carved from Ancient Rome, porcelain skin and smooth edges. His size is certainly unexpected and you’re shy about how your eyes are probably bugging out of their sockets.

“Do you… do you want me to get a condom?” he asks you, voice cracking slightly. You’re reminded of how boyish he really is, how despite everything, he’s always been your Peter. Your puppy, your best boy. You nod at him and grin. “Right… ah— where are they?”

“Under the bed, blue shoebox.”

He comes back from under the bed and rips the silver foil. He toys with it for a second, awkwardly. “Ah, this is… a good brand. Very safe.”

“Yeah, good reviews?” you gush at his awkwardness.

“Like I’d know,” Peter blushes and shrugs. You know that Peter’s not a virgin but he’d never been the type to be cocky or promiscuous. It was you in senior year of high school who broke down where a woman’s clitoris was, after all. You playfully hit him, urging him to continue. He nods sheepishly.

“Wait, do you want me to… do you want head, too?” you ask curiously.

He shakes his head, sliding the condom onto his length. “No, ‘m okay. Just want to be inside you really bad.”

You kiss him hard, and to his surprise, you push him onto his back. His eyes widen at your shift in attitude and newfound dominance. His taut mouth widens when you push down onto him, going up and down at an agonizingly slow pace as you grip his shoulders. “Oh, fuck.”

You respond graciously with a breathy sigh, eyes closed as you grind against him. “Fuck, that feels really good,” he whispers. “Gonna be the death of me.”

“That’s why they call it la petite mort, yeah?” you smirk. You start to grind faster and Peter’s eyes screw shut, mouth slack in a blissful fashion. He grips your hips harder and gives your ass a light smack as he groans.

“Ass man, aren’t you?” you tease. “Figured you were more into tits.”

“Can’t talk, feels too good,” Peter mumbles. He palms your breast with one hand in response to you, which makes you giggle. “Please don’t tease me at a vulnerable time like this.”

Your laughter is like music to his ears. He looks at you with a dark expression on his face, a sort of pained desperation that secretly begs you to wreck him. He wishes he could tell you that you could have him in any way possible, but he figures that the enormity of his desire would scare you away. Peter caresses your cheek and your head lulls backward at the elation of him inside you. Teasing a finger on your bottom lip, you take his finger into your mouth and you suck on it gently. He feels like he’s about to lose it. It’s a miracle he’s even lasting this long, he thinks to himself. He swore he almost came when he was just giving you head.

“Jesus fucking christ,” Peter breathes. The aura of you is everywhere in the room, the smell of your skin permeating his senses. He can’t get enough. You’re surprised by how vocal he is and it kind of makes you feel a bit cocky. His lips are slick and swollen from your love bites and you can’t help but admire how he looks underneath, curls loose over his warm forehead.

“Fuck, hold on. Can I do something?” he asks, his eyes doe-like. You nod quickly. “Can, um, can you get on your stomach?”

You oblige to his request, getting off from his lap and sinking into the bed, ass up. You nearly choke when he fills you up from behind, his hands cradling your hips. He’s slow with his thrusts at first, wanting to be careful to both control himself and to make sure he doesn’t hurt you. He reaches you at a deep angle and you nearly scream out, which encourages Peter to rock his hips a bit faster.

“Oh my god, Peter!”

Your head twists slightly so you can see his face. He reaches over immediately to kiss you, holding you by the chin forcefully as he pulls your hips towards him. His hand stays wrapped around your throat as he bends over to pepper kisses to your neck and down your back. A finger rests on your bottom lip that you take into your mouth. He moans at the feeling of it.

“Fuck, you’re gonna… make me come soon…” you breathe. You whine as he pulls your hair slightly to get better access to the side of your neck.

“Fuck, I fucking love you,” Peter pants. His breath is hot beneath your ear and it makes you shiver. His hushed curses are like little love notes spilling onto your shoulder. “My favorite girl.”

Your face falls into your bedsheets once he hits your sweet spot repeatedly. Your whole body vibrates at the feeling of it as you grip your sheets hard enough to strain your knuckles. Tears are pricking from the corners of your eyes on impact. Your orgasm is white-hot, blinding, paradisiacal.

“Hey, hey, hey, are you okay?” Peter whispers worriedly, slowing down his strokes and wiping your face gently.

“Yes,” you moan, shutting him up with a kiss. He pulls out of you and melts into your lips, the wave of your orgasm and the tenderness in your chest igniting a small fire in the pit of your stomach. The two of you are side by side now, limbs entangling one another in a blob of lust and warm bodies and languished breaths. He’s confused at your husky laughter but stays attached to your mouth, tasting you in all your sugared glory. The taste of blood pools into your mouth again and you pull back slightly. You lick his bottom lip carefully, lacing his mouth with your sweetness.

You smile devilishly at the red marks on his neck, marks that you left. He rubs his neck and it’s like he’s blushing all over, because he knows that although he’ll complain about the hickies in the morning, he feels blessed to have any remnants of you on his body. A burn, a bruise, a red stamp on his forehead with your name on it. He doesn’t care.

“You wanna stop?” he questions. He traces shapes on your hip, then letters. I-L-O-V-E-Y-O-U.

You shake your head and nuzzle his neck. “No, I want you to come. I want to see your face when you come inside me.”

The alcohol has definitely worn off but he still feels intoxicated in your presence. How can someone look like that? he wonders. You’re underneath him now, bright-eyed in anticipation. He licks his lips, amber eyes wide like a puppy. He wants to come — no, needs to — but he's also entertaining the idea of holding himself in so he can hear you orgasm ten more times.

“C’mon, Spidey,” you whisper, pulling his length towards you. He slides in slowly and exhales like it’s the first time again. You sigh dreamily, eyelashes fluttering at the halcyon feeling of warmth inside you. You feel so fucking full. Your nails dig into his muscular back as he moves faster, and the feeling is so euphoric that you’re sinking your teeth into his shoulder to muffle your screams.

“Oh, shit,” Peter sputters, whispering your name like it’s a poem he’s memorized. You nearly are a poem he’s memorized and it feels like heaven and more that he’s able to experience your body in this capacity — every inch, every curve. He’s about to be pushed to the edge once he hears you stutter his name mindlessly.

“Peter, Peter, Peter… f-fuck… gonna come again…”

Your back arches as shockwaves course through your body and suddenly Peter is gripping you from your hair to your shoulder hard enough to almost hurt in the best way possible. His knees buckle as he releases his come into you and you’re coming up for air after hearing his guttural moans and whines.

“Ffffuuuuckkkk,” Peter cries out, murmuring your name over and over like it’s the only word he knows.

You clutch his body like he’s a fallen hero (ha ha) and push the hair from his forehead, pecking him with kisses all over his face. His face is warm and so is his smile — so pretty, so unforgiving.

“We should do that, like, all the time,” he sighs, flopping his head onto your chest. You giggle, pulling him in your arms. His body is like a weighted blanket. He purrs at the feeling of your fingers through his hair.

“Definitely.”

___

i’ll be your cigarette ashtray

come back when it’s too late

worship you til morning comes

It was an annoying habit of yours. For some reason, your biological clock decided that when you got really drunk, you wouldn’t sleep in. Instead, like clockwork, you’d wake up at the crack of dawn.

Your eyes squint at your phone. 7:09 am. You groan, turning your body away from the sunrise that was perching itself higher and higher into the sky. The body next to you stirs at your movements, mumbling something unintelligible and laying an arm over your frame.

Your eyes flutter open to see Peter’s face, angelic and blue-tinged in the dimness of your room. His breaths are slow and quiet. You want to trace his cheekbones and his slightly crooked nose but you’re afraid to wake him, so you settle for a longing gaze.

“Morning,” he whispers, making you wince. His eyes are still closed but his mouth turns upwards into a smile.

“Sorry. Did I wake you?”

“Maybe, but I’m a light sleeper.” His pupils are blown out and black when he opens his eyes. He takes his hand and strokes your hair, inching over to your face and peppering a chaste kiss to your nose. He waits a second, then gives you a more passionate kiss on the mouth.

“Mmm. Morning breath,” you chuckle lightly.

“Hey,” he pouts. “That’s not how I like to be dirty-talked.”

You’re used to waking up next to Peter but the sight of him now is something new. He’s grown into his body and the way he looks naked right now, wrapped in your comforter… it’s like an alternate universe fr you. The sound of his morning voice is slightly raspy and low and you absolutely adore it.

“‘m not getting you off right now,” you mumble. “Make me breakfast first.”

He groans dramatically. He pulls you closer so that your nose is nestled into his warm chest. “Nope. Haven’t slept in like twenty-six hours, baby. Sweet dreams.”

[pumpkinblossoms]

OK, in the spirit of positivity, here are my top reads of 2022!

A bit in the way of context: I am a librarian, I read a lot, and, for better or for worse, I live and breathe books/publishing buzz/ARCs/etc. The list below is purely based on my own fully biased opinions, though those biases have nothing to do with whether I had early access to a title, a connection to the publisher, etc. and everything to do with whether a book is sad, gory, or gay. And thanks @explosionshark for suggesting I write this up!

DEAD COLLECTIONS by Isaac Fellman: holy fuck was this book good. The whole “trans vampire falling in love and solving a quiet, sad mystery in the archive where he works” angle is catchy, but this is definitely not the fluffy or straightforward story some people are after. I really loved how vampirism is depicted as a life-ruining weakness rather than a cool and sexy superpower. I also really loved the multimedia aspect of including forum posts and TV scripts and listserv chains.

BABEL: AN ARCANE HISTORY by R.F. Kuang: I think some criticisms of this one, like that it’s slow and repetitive and a little didactic, are founded. However, I couldn’t care less. R.F. Kuang excels at unhurried school stories that slowly and brutally dismantle themselves over hundreds and hundreds of pages, and the formula she establishes in the excellent Poppy War trilogy is perfected here. This is what actual dark academia looks like–The Atlas Six could never.

KISS HER ONCE FOR ME by Alison Cochrun: I used to read a lot of contemporary romance, specifically f/f romance, but after being burned over and over and over and OVER by bad books I’m incredibly selective about what I read and recommend in this genre. I gave Alison Cochrun a ton of shit for her incredibly mediocre debut, The Charm Offensive, but I am totally willing to say that she’s improved, and this book–while still definitely goofy and even grating at times–was probably the best f/f romance out in 2022 from a major publisher other than Delilah Green (which I read in 2021 and therefore did not include in this list, but also whose sequel sucked so much it honestly made me like the first one less). Do me a favor and don’t even read the back copy because it doesn’t make any fucking sense and will turn you off the book.

THE PALLBEARERS CLUB by Paul Tremblay: hoooo boy. OK. So this one got dismal reviews from the Goodreads crowd, but I believe fully and genuinely in my heart that everybody is wrong about it and should feel bad about how wrong they are. The thing is, Paul’s books are slow and atmospheric (are you sensing a theme to what kind of books I tend to like best) and there are no easy answers or moments of triumph or anything you might be led to expect via publisher-created blurbs or taglines. And going into a book with one expectation and having that expectation remain unmet is one of the quickest and simplest ways to have a bad-faith negative reaction to said book, in my personal experience. Like, could this book have been scarier? Definitely. But I loved it regardless, and I loved that the physical format of the book–Art’s memoiry fiction draft, or fictiony memoir draft, depending on your perspective, plus his best friend Mercy’s commentary written in red in the margins–is the sort of embodied story that I love because it fucking sucks to read on a screen or an ereader. You’re tied to the format, either print or audio (which I hear was well done for this one, though I haven’t heard it myself), and that’s great to me.

THE THOUSAND EYES by A.K. Larkwood: In my opinion this duology is criminally, WOEFULLY underrated. Csorwe is a grumpy butch orc warrior and she spends most of her time getting herself and her terrible frenemies out of trouble and also falling in love with a powerful sorceress. This book is the second one and is gloriously angsty and everyone gets middle-aged and sad and yet they all still pine for one another across time and space. I cried. I’m not sorry. It’s GOOD.

AN ARCHIVE OF BRIGHTNESS by Kelsey Socha: ok, full disclosure, this is my wife’s book, but it came out in August and it’s a lovely group of interwoven weird little gay stories. I would’ve loved it even if I didn’t share a mortgage with the author, I promise. Like, people live in houses made of scorpion corpses. Come on.

Honorable mentions: I didn’t really feel like getting too much into YA here, but I really liked CONFESSIONS OF AN ALLEGED GOOD GIRL by Joya Goffney, which was a really honest and interesting exploration of purity culture and religion; HOW TO EXCAVATE A HEART by Jake Maia Arlow, an interfaith winter holiday f/f romance (what a year for holiday romances, sheesh); and HELL FOLLOWED WITH US by Andrew Joseph White, a really gross and sad book that also manages to be incredibly, gleefully YA even as the protagonist morphs into a horrifying monster.

I also didn’t want to mention anything that hasn’t been released yet, so HOW TO SELL A HAUNTED HOUSE by Grady Hendrix and SOME DESPERATE GLORY by Emily Tesh are both out, even though both were SO GOOD and you should be foaming at the mouth to get your hands on them next year. And lastly, I didn’t think The Locked Tomb series needed any extra hype and if you haven’t picked it up yet it’s not like I’m going to convince you, so I didn’t bother saying anything about NONA THE NINTH although it was really very good.

And finally: I’m currently reading WHEN THE ANGELS LEFT THE OLD COUNTRY by Sacha Lamb which absolutely fucking rips so far, very much Good Omens meets Spinning Silver, but I haven’t finished it yet so it didn’t seem fair to count. I recommend it based on the first half, though!

PHEW ok that’s it! Send me your recs please!!

[makeste]

“but I thought about how I needed to say this”

a.k.a. yet another meta dissection of The Apology. I actually wrote most of this up on Friday night based on the original Japanese (@pikahlua​ has an excellent translation up here, and I also used @hanashimas’ translations as a reference as well), but I wanted to wait until the official release, though that turned out to be a mixed bag to say the least lol.

I would also recommend reading @pikahlua​ and @class1akids​’ breakdowns of this scene (here and here, respectively), because they are excellent, and because if any scene deserves to have as many meta breakdowns written about it as possible, it’s this one.

anyway so here goes.

Caleb did a more accurate job with this than the fanscan, even if he did try his best to take us out of the seriousness of the moment by throwing in that swiss cheese line lol. anyway so there are two things I want to talk about here. the first is the line about Izuku not remembering, which I thought was a nice touch. of course he doesn’t remember what Kacchan said back then. he wasn’t exactly in the soundest emotional state after seeing one of the people he cares about most taking a near-fatal blow that was meant for him. I’d be shocked if he remembers anything about the aftermath (including the way he flew into a mindless rage afterwards) right up until the point when he entered the OFA Interstellar Party Void with Tomura. anyway, so I thought that was a nice callback.

and speaking of emotional states, the other thing I wanted to talk about is the part that Caleb got right which the fan scanlation didn’t. “but I had more to say.” in other words, “stop trying to win on your own” wasn’t just a one-liner; it was meant to be the beginning of a much longer speech. “there were other things that I needed to say.”

like, can we just stop and talk about that for a second. because basically what this means is that in that instant, when Kacchan pushed Deku out of the way and got impaled, his one and only thought was that he needed to apologize to Deku. his life was presumably flashing before his eyes, he had no idea if he was going to survive or not, and the only thing on his mind was how urgently he needed to make things right with his former childhood friend.

moving on!

so I have a confession to make, which is that I am relieved to see Katsuki describing this as the reason why he bullied Deku, as opposed to Horikoshi trying to retcon it into some sort of “secretly he was just trying to protect him and keep him out of harm’s way because he was worried” thing, which ngl would not have gelled very well with me. the thing is that I’m really not a fan of the whole “Kacchan Did Nothing Wrong” mentality that some fans seem to have. like, I have seen all sorts of convoluted attempts to find excuses for Katsuki’s shitty behavior, but in my view those attempts undermine what I love about his character in the first place. Katsuki is such a great character specifically because he is not perfect. his redemption arc is so compelling because he was such a giant asshole at the start. he was completely at fault, and he acknowledges this, and takes full responsibility for it. and that is fucking fantastic.

his arc is so great because it doesn’t rely on garnering sympathy by giving him a Tragic Past, or by trying to foist the blame for his behavior over on someone else. it’s an arc that acknowledges that redemption isn’t something you achieve by making people feel sorry for you; it’s something you have to earn by actively working to change and do better. and by forgoing the “misunderstood/tragic past” route, Horikoshi is making a statement that anyone can go down the wrong path, but that more importantly, anyone can also choose at any time to turn away from said path. there is only one requirement for doing so, and that is realizing that you’ve done wrong, and deciding that you want to change.

anyway, so in chapter 284 Kacchan of course had that whole speech about Deku not taking himself into account, and mentioned how that made him want to keep his distance. and a good chunk of fandom took this to mean that Katsuki’s bullying was actually a misguided response to Deku’s reckless tendencies -- sort of an “if I show him how weak and powerless he really is, I can get him to accept the reality that he’s quirkless, and that being a hero will just get him hurt or killed” type of thing. and I won’t lie, for a good while I was wondering myself if Horikoshi was really going to go down that route. and like I said, I am honestly relieved that he didn’t. not only for the reasons stated in the previous paragraph, but also because the message that would have sent -- that there are certain circumstances in which bullying can almost be excused because the bully had Good Intentions and was just trying to save the other person from themselves, and so it Wasn’t That Bad, Actually -- is all kinds of fucked up to say the least. so yeah, I’m glad we ended up steering well clear of that.

(ETA: this post was long enough already so I edited out the 3 additional paragraphs I originally wrote analyzing the dialogue from 284. but just to be clear, I’m not trying to imply that Kacchan worrying about Deku’s recklessness is a retconned thing that Horikoshi only threw into the story recently, because there are multiple instances throughout the story where he clearly is worried and in total denial of it. but I firmly believe those feelings are not what led to the bullying. they’re two separate things. Kacchan worrying about Deku is what prompts him to yell at him in chapter 1 when Deku comes to save him. but it’s not what incited him to burn his notebook and taunt him earlier in that same chapter. that action had a much meaner and more selfish motivation behind it, and I’m glad Horikoshi didn’t try to change it up last minute, because it wouldn’t have felt right.)

thankfully as of this chapter I think we can safely cross that out as a possibility, as we’re given the true explanation straight from Katsuki himself. and the truth is that he bullied Deku out of insecurity and jealousy and fear and intolerance. there was nothing noble about it. there were no good intentions concealed in his actions. there are no justifications given, no excuses offered, and no mitigating circumstances to be considered, other than the fact (which neither he nor Horikoshi bring up) that he was and is still a child, and that children make mistakes.

it’s an explanation that challenges many of fandom’s ideas on who is and isn’t eligible to be redeemed. there is no Ozai in Katsuki’s backstory. there’s no great tragedy that he spent a lifetime trying to rise above. the only villain in Katsuki’s story is Katsuki himself. the only darkness that he has to overcome is his own. and it’s challenging, because I think many people believe the only way someone can be redeemed for doing bad things is if bad things happen to them in return. but what Horikoshi is saying here is that that’s not the case. bad doesn’t erase bad. and the one and only way to truly earn redemption is by doing good.

and that’s what makes this such a phenomenal scene for me. by not shying away from Katsuki’s flaws and failings, and having him take full responsibility for them, Horikoshi keeps the apology from being self-serving, and underscores the true depth of Katsuki’s character development. the level of self-awareness he has here is something most people can only dream of. which is very fitting, as that’s perhaps the most important takeaway from his character arc -- that it’s only by acknowledging your own weaknesses and flaws that you can learn to overcome them and reach your full potential.

one last thing to point out here, which is that in the panel where Katsuki finally acknowledges his terrible treatment of Deku, Deku is not even visible. instead, Horikoshi drew the panel from a perspective that makes it appear that Katsuki is addressing this particular line not just to Deku, but to all of his classmates.

again, he shows him taking full responsibility and admitting his wrongdoings in front of the people whose opinions and approval he cares about most. and just to clarify in case there’s any confusion from Caleb’s translation, Kacchan’s wording makes it very clear that he wasn’t just “mean” to Deku, but that he full-on bullied him (he uses the same verb -- “ijimeru” (苛める) -- that he did back in chapter 284). there’s no attempt to downplay his actions here.

moving on now, this chapter also reaffirmed another thing about Deku and Kacchan’s relationship which I was glad to see revisited -- Kacchan’s unwavering belief in Deku’s ability. this is one of those paradoxical things about their relationship which I’ve always been fascinated by, but which is also kind of hard to explain, because I don’t want it to come off like I’m trying to put a positive spin on something which was unequivocally awful. like, please don’t think I’m trying to say that Katsuki’s bullying of Deku was in any way a good thing. but that being said, there’s also a strange irony at play here, which is that Katsuki’s jealousy and insecurity also betray the fact that even at his very worst, he never once underestimated Deku. he has always believed in Deku’s strength, even when that strength pissed him off and made him afraid and uneasy.

no one else -- not All Might, or even Deku’s own mom -- believed from the get-go that Deku could become a hero. but Katsuki never once counted him out, even when he was calling him a pebble in his shoe. he confesses here that even though he “tried to act superior by rejecting [Deku]”, in truth he was never able to shake the feeling that Deku was above him. long before he ever understood the concept of “win to save”, he knew instinctively that there was a strength in Deku’s heart that couldn’t be measured, and which had the potential to surpass even his own strength. and I’ve always felt that this was so important, because it’s the one aspect of their early relationship that hinted that on some level, however subconscious, Katsuki held the same type of faith in Deku that Deku always held in him. it was one of the few things that hinted at there being a possible path towards reconciliation one day. and it paved the way for the most important shift in their relationship to date, when Katsuki finally realized who Deku got his quirk from, and responded not with resentment or spite, but with acceptance.

moving on, I also really love the way we see them portrayed at the different stages of their childhood throughout this speech, and how it perfectly lines up with the dialogue. from small children (when Katsuki talks about his insecurities first manifesting), to middle schoolers (when he talks about the bullying), to high schoolers (when he talks about the past year and everything he’s learned at U.A.). Horikoshi really didn’t have to go that hard, but he did, and that’s why we love him.

and then we finally get to That Part.

where do I even start with this there are so many things omg.

the bow. this is the one and only time Katsuki has ever bowed to anyone of his own volition as far as I recall. and this absolutely is a bow, just to be clear, even though his form is straight-up garbage (very Kacchan-esque, with his feet and arms spaced apart because he’s still a punk after all). this is Kacchan showing more humility and respect than he’s ever shown to anyone else in his entire life.

regarding “Izuku”, I actually have mixed feelings about this to tell the truth. I think it was a good call here because it was incredibly effective in setting the tone and showing just how serious Kacchan is. however if he continues to use “Izuku” rather than “Deku” from here on out, that would give the impression in hindsight that all his past usage of “Deku” really was meant as an insult, which would undermine some of my favorite scenes. I would really like to believe that since DvK2 or thereabouts, Kacchan has (mostly) been using “Deku (affectionate)” rather than “Deku (useless loser)”, lol. but if he switches to the “nicer” name on a permanent basis following his apology, it implies that the previous nickname was indeed being used cruelly. and so honestly I hope this was just a one-time thing, because I do think that in Katsuki’s mind, the name “Deku” hasn’t been meant as a slight to him for a long time now.

“my truth/this is what I truly feel” -- the word Katsuki uses in Japanese is honne (本音), and if you’re familiar with the concept of honne/tatemae, that’s the same “honne” he’s talking about here. it means that he’s casting aside all of his walls and facades and expressing what he truly feels. and of course, one of the fascinating things about Katsuki’s character is that he’s the exact opposite of most people in that he chooses to put his meanness on full display to the public, and ironically it’s the kindest parts of himself which he tends to keep the most carefully guarded and hidden away. this also means that while his rage and anger are very often insincere and put on just for show, those relatively few occasions where he lets his humanity truly shine through are pretty much 100% genuine, as is the case with this one here.

and Deku’s face says it all when it comes to how powerful those moments can be as a result.

and this, right here, is why it wasn’t enough for Katsuki to atone solely through his actions, and why he needed to actually say the words as well. it’s not that the words are more important; obviously the actions are far and away the most important part, and carry far more meaning. but the reason why Katsuki needed to say the words as well is simply because Izuku needed to hear them. needed to, and deserved to, because this is one of the most important people in the world to him.

and so he deserves to know that the relationship isn’t just one-sided, and that he is just as important to Kacchan as Kacchan is to him. he deserves to know that Kacchan understands how horribly he treated him, and that he’s sorry for it. and he deserves to know that Kacchan, without any expectation of it changing their relationship -- meaning that he will continue to feel this way regardless of what Izuku says or does from here on out -- cares about him. now more than ever, with AFO out there doing everything in his power to make Izuku feel as alone as possible, this is something that he really, really needed to hear.

so this part has some interesting wordplay which neither Caleb’s translation nor the fan scanlation was really able to get across. basically, in the Japanese version, when Katsuki talks about “those ideals”, Horikoshi uses the kanji for “ideal”, but pronounces it as “All Might.” obviously the meaning of this isn’t too hard to decipher, as we all know how much both boys admire All Might. to them, he absolutely is synonymous with the Ideal. so this is a way of showing that respect they both have towards him, even as Katsuki goes on to point out the one fatal flaw that All Might was never able to overcome.

and speaking of interesting wording, as others have noted, at this point in his speech Katsuki switches from “temee” (which he was using earlier during the “your strengths and my weaknesses” part) to “omae” (“omae” being a less insulting word for “you”, though still very manly and tough-sounding), which is definitely a big deal. though fwiw this is not the first time he’s used “omae” for Deku (he switches to it briefly right after DvK2, when he tells Deku “you had the strongest guy lay the groundwork for you -- don’t lose”, and then later when they’re walking back to the dorms and he says he’ll learn and get stronger by watching everyone around him just like Deku did). it’s definitely a good choice on Horikoshi’s part though, as it makes this last part of the speech sound more earnest and sincere.

just a quick note, he does indeed use a plural pronoun here, as in “the obstacles that you can’t overcome, we will overcome.” but as @pikahlua​ pointed out, the “we” here is ambiguous -- it could either mean “we” as in class 1-A -- “we will overcome them for you” -- OR it could mean “we” as in all of them -- class 1-A and Deku. “we will overcome them together.” idk about you, but I know which one gets my vote.

anyway, and so this is the line that finally wins Deku over and allows him to let go of his fears, however briefly. what I love about this is Kacchan’s utter conviction. one thing that Caleb’s translation doesn’t quite get across is Kacchan’s use of the word morenaku -- “without exception” -- when he talks about how they’re going to save everyone and win. it echoes that same sentiment he showed back during the Joint Training arc -- that it’s not a perfect victory unless they save everyone. every last person. and he explicitly lists Deku among their number, just so there can be no doubt.

and Deku’s response to this (or at least his thoughts, since he’s not really able to get many words out) pretty much brings everything full circle here.

he acknowledges that everyone else has gotten ahead of him. which is especially meaningful given who he’s standing directly across from. because for most of the series, as we all well know, it’s been Kacchan who was woefully lagging behind Deku in the character growth department. but now Deku himself is acknowledging that not only has Kacchan finally caught up at last, but that he and the others have surpassed him. which is only temporary, I should add, as I have zero doubt that Deku will catch up again soon. but the fact remains that just as Deku’s rapid increase in strength and skill left Kacchan scrambling to keep up earlier in the series, Kacchan’s extraordinary character development has now left Deku in that same position. as All Might once put it, “when he’s starting at level one, and you’re already at level 50, it’s only natural that you’ll be growing at different rates.”

and what’s so wonderful about this though is that the two of them are finally approaching that point where they’ve both caught up to each other and are finally starting to level out. Deku is a full-on badass, and Kacchan is out here talk-no-jutsuing with the best of them. the two of them have been chasing and chasing after each other this entire time, and now they’re finally just about ready to meet in the middle at long last, with each of them fully embodying both of those two crucial aspects -- win, and save.

just about. because Deku still needs some help catching up. but seeing as help has already been offered -- and accepted -- I can’t imagine it will be very long now, and I can’t wait to see him finally overcoming those fears and doubts with his friends by his side. it’s going to be such a powerful moment.

and last but not least,

or, as I prefer,

you had one job, Caleb. flkjsdlk.

but at least this provides a good opportunity to note that unlike the “we’ll help you handle it” line earlier in the speech, here the phrasing is left up to interpretation, as he doesn’t use a pronoun. so it could be “we know”, or, as the fan scanlation put it, “I know.” or it could be both. regardless, it’s good stuff.

anyway, and so Deku passes out, and in the process Horikoshi gives us one last parting metaphor, just in case anyone still thinks Kacchan is all talk because they haven’t been paying attention for the past 322 chapters (more likely than you think). once again, Katsuki’s actions speak louder than his words (even his nice words) ever could: he is literally there to catch Deku when he falls.

so that’s it! my sincere thanks to anyone who actually read through all of my endless ramblings about this scene which I have been waiting for since day one. props to Horikoshi for taking on an impossibly difficult task, and pulling it off with all of the emotion and care and nuance that I’ve come to expect from his writing. imo he delivered on every single level with the exception of the aftermath, which I don’t consider to have actually happened yet. Deku’s part of this is definitely a “to be continued.” but yeah, as far as Kacchan’s part goes, 10/10. so fucking proud of this kid.

[havethetimeofyourstyles]

in which harry joins a new gym and you’re a trainer there.

a/n: happy new years loves! wishing you all a lovely and happy 2021! first fic of 2021 and im so excited to write more stories this year! to start the new year, here is boxer!harry for you, and this is for my very own timetravelathon fic challenge! if you’d like to join, please let me know, I’d love to have you on board! this story takes place in the 1990, and i know some of the songs mentioned weren’t released specifically in 1990 (just a few years after), but just pretend it was lol because they’re too good to not mention in this story hehe, but happy reading and pls reblog and leave feedback <3

thank you to @sunflowers-styles for beta reading this for me, love you always!

WORD COUNT: 22.6k of (kinda) boxer!harry x trainer!yn filled with angst and smut

WARNINGS: mentions of abandonment and blood 

COME INTO MY INBOX AND LETS TALK ABOUT ‘143’ i’d love to know your thoughts!

pls rb to share! <3

16 August 1990

With every move he made, Harry felt a bead of sweat drip down the side of his face, down his back, and trailing down his chest. Small huffs of breath were released from his mouth, trying not to make it known that he was exhausted, but he continued until all of his energy was used up through the very end. 

“C’mon,” he muttered to himself, anticipating the certain words to be yelled out. 

He’d been going at it for a while now, muscles aching as he felt like he was about to collapse any minute. But he was determined to finish, to feel the satisfaction running through his veins, knowing that this was his best round. 

“And time!�� His trainer yelled at him, clicking the stop button on his timer. 

Harry got in one last punch before putting his arms down, the soreness made his limbs feel like jello as he shook them out. The black leather punching bag was swinging back and forth, the chain that held up the speed bag rattled and slid against the metal bar. Harry loved that sound because it indicated that he was going his hardest to where the chain couldn’t keep up. 

“Nice one, kid.” Henson, his trainer said as he fist-bumped Harry’s red glove. 

Harry simply nodded in appreciation, too exhausted to speak as he placed his gloves onto his knees, leaning down as beads of sweat dripped down onto the matted floor. Several harsh breaths came out of his mouth as he sniffed in the fresh oxygen that was mixed with the musky scent of the gym. 

Benny, Harry’s best friend, exited the ring, wiping the sweat off his forehead with his arm before walking towards Harry, who was still leaning on his knees. Benny tapped Harry’s glove, making him stand up straighter, and Harry patted Benny’s back. 

“Good job out there, mate,” Harry told his best friend. Benny was in the ring with one of the other trainers, Mike, doing one of the nonstop routines. Harry liked training with Mike in the ring, but not when it was for cardio and timed rounds; he liked when it was chill, so he knew how hard he had to hit the target, which were the pads. But for the timed rounds they did, Harry was usually by the speed bags and Mike was in the ring. 

“You too, man,” Benny breathed out with a smile. 

They headed over to the bench to take their gloves off and catch a breather. The pair would do a  cardio day every Thursday to get a good, sweaty workout in, and it always left them exhausted, but definitely much stronger. 

“Hey, I’m not gonna be able to workout next Thursday,” Benny mentioned. Harry furrowed his brows as he put the end of the strap between his teeth to pull it off from the velcro, taking one glove off. 

“What? Why not?” Harry asked confusingly. They never really had to call off a workout, especially Thursdays, unless one of them was sick, but other than that, neither of them missed any workout days. 

“I’m taking the wife on a date,” Benny smirked, clearly very excited to spend some time with his wife, but Harry wasn’t amused. 

“On a Thursday? Why can’t you do that on Friday?” 

Benny rolled his eyes. “Because we both called off Friday, so we’re having a four day weekend to ourselves,” he explained. 

Harry huffed, clearly not entertained. “Guess so…” 

Benny knew Harry was always like this, ever since they were younger. The two had been so close ever since they met, now that Benny had a wife, Harry always felt like the third wheel and that he rarely saw Benny, however, that wasn’t entirely true Benny exercised with Harry every night during the weekdays, and sometimes they even grabbed a bite to eat afterward when Benny could use that time to be with his wife, Marianne. 

Harry had an overwhelming fear of abandonment, it led him to have anxieties about how Benny could just get up and walk out of his life, even though he wouldn’t. Maybe it was why Harry is so attached to him; he’s the closest to Harry and it would completely destroy him if Benny ever decided that he didn’t want to be his friend anymore. That fear only grew based on an unfortunate turn of events that happened in college, four years ago, and it left Harry to pieces. Benny had never seen Harry so broken where he literally had to pick him up and take care of him. He never wanted to see his best friend like that ever again because it absolutely crushed him. 

“It’s two days that we’re not going to be seeing each other, chill out. Didn’t know you were that in love with me,” Benny joked, hoping to lighten up Harry’s mood. Luckily, it worked because Harry breathed out a chuckle, throwing his towel at Benny’s face.

The two collected their belongings and walked over to the trainers as they always do at the end of every workout to have a light chat with them. Henson and Mike told them they did a great job and asked to confirm if they were still on for tomorrow, which Benny and Harry both agreed to. Benny also mentioned about not being able to work out next Thursday and Friday, including the reason why he wasn’t able to. 

Henson and Mike looked at each other as if they were keeping something from the two. Harry titled his head  and looked at Benny as if he was asking if he knew the reason why they were looking at each other weirdly, but Benny just shrugged his shoulders, just as clueless as Harry. 

“Are you gonna tell us why you’re acting suspiciously?” Harry asked. The two trainers both sighed defeatedly. 

“About that…” Henson started. “Next Friday…we’re closing,” he added. 

“Like, closing for the day?” Benny asked innocently, hoping they didn’t mean what he really thought. 

“No…for good,” Mike stated. Harry and Benny’s eyes both widened, words coming out of both of their mouths profusely. They were both talking over each other, disagreeing and not accepting the fact that the gym was shutting down. 

“You can’t just do that-”

“-No, we refuse to let you close down-”

“Alright, guys! Settle down. You’re starting to act like kids, for god's sake,” Henson interrupted the tantrum that was about to start. 

“You guys can’t just do that!” Benny exclaimed. 

“Why are you guys even doing that?” Harry asked. 

Mike sighed. “We mutually decided that it was best to close down because…we really need the money. My rent has been skyrocketing crazy high because more people have just decided that moving to Los Angeles is fun.” He rolled his eyes, and Harry slightly chuckled because it was true. Hollywood was the place to be and people from out of state had just figured out their new profound dream to move to one of the busiest cities. 

“Fight Night will never be forgotten, alright? We’re just ready to let this place go. Plus, the roof is leaking and the wall is tearing apart, and that’s gonna be a pain to fix,” Henson added. 

Mike and Henson were brothers and built Fight Night when they were in college. With the help of their father, they decided to build a place to gain strength and power, all while helping others defend themselves. Harry and Benny had been frequenting it ever since college, and it felt like home to them. Aside from the yelling and stuffy scent, it was a place for them to release any type of anger or stress.

Benny introduced Fight Night to Harry when he had physically picked Harry up from the ground on, what possibly was, the worst night of his life. It was something Harry looked forward to after classes, anxiously bouncing his leg up and down, waiting to get to the gym. Fight Night helped rebuild him, and now, he was in disbelief that the gym was closing. 

“We’re old as fuck now. We wanna live our lives freely. Time to retire now, don’t you think?” Mike said with a sad chuckle. They were both in their late fifties, so Harry and Benny understood why they wanted to be free of work. 

The four of them hugged it out, a very emotional and sentimental hug that was heartwarming but sad. Eyes were slightly watered before Henson pushed them and said, “We’re closing the gym next week, not fucking dying! We have time for this bullshit for an entire week.” 

Harry and Benny left the gym with bittersweet hearts, but they kept Fight Night close to them, knowing that they owed a lot to the gym and the two men who built the facility. Mike had recommended some gyms that were close by if they were still interested in boxing, which they definitely were, so they were planning to check them out first before signing up. 

“Do you wanna get something to eat?” Harry asked once they were outside of the gym. The air was humid, nothing different from inside the gym since it was summer and the sun was beginning to go down. 

“Nah, I’m good. Gonna get home to Marianne. I’ll see you tomorrow?” Benny pat Harry’s back, nodding. 

Harry waved. “See you.” He watched Benny walk away before getting into his silver 1990 BMW 5 series, sighing. He always hated going home, and he always tried staying out for as long as he possibly could. 

As he drove home, he anxiously tapped his hands on the steering wheel as he couldn’t quite keep them still. It’d been happening for a while, a lot more often than he’d like, but he couldn’t help it. 

Walking into the darkness and emptiness of his home, he sighed sadly as he sulked all the way to the restroom to shower. The hot steam relieved his achy and sore muscles, but he was hoping for this shower to also release any occurring and bad thoughts he had in his head. 

He couldn’t help but think about the gym closing down. After going there for years, he couldn’t imagine going to a new gym; he’d adapted and adjusted to Fight Night that it would take him forever to find a gym that truly made him feel wanted. He was scared, to say the least. 

Harry was never a big fan of change. He liked being comfortable and stable and didn't like to move around a lot. So, the thought of going to a different gym that wasn’t Fight Night, terrified him. It only added to the list of things that had abandoned him. 

Once he was out of the shower, white towel secured lowly on his hips, showcasing his beautiful toned torso that was filled and inked with tattoos, his pager beeped. He wondered who it was as he walked over to his nightstand, considering that it was nearing nine in the evening. 

He deeply sighed when he saw the pager read ‘345987,’ immediately knowing who it was. The pager code meaning ‘I’m horny’ could only mean it’s coming from Lizette. 

Deciding not to answer the page, Harry set his pager down before walking back to the restroom, only for his home phone to ring, causing him to stop in his steps and answer the phone. 

“Hello?” Harry answered. 

“Hey, baby,” Lizette said seductively. His brows furrowed, holding the towel to his waist as it had loosened up a bit. 

“What do you want?” 

“You know what I want…” He knew exactly what she wanted. If she hadn’t paged him, he would still know what she wanted from him since all he provided to her was sex. “Isn’t it such a coincidence that I’m outside of your door right now?” Harry didn’t say anything but pinch the bridge of his nose before hanging up. 

He walked towards his front door, sighing before opening the door that revealed Lizette on the other side, wearing a low cut top, cleavage clearly showing, and high waisted denim shorts. She leaned on the doorframe, smirking as she looked Harry up and down, noticing that he wasn’t wearing anything but a towel. Harry gulped as she stepped forward, placing her hands on his stomach before completely taking the towel off, and a smug smile plastered on her face. 

Harry lets her take over like he always did. The feel of someone else’s body holding his, and lips kissing his own and his skin was something he couldn’t compare to anything else. Harry simply only did this to have some companionship, and Lizette made him feel a lot less lonely even if she was only there to have sex with him. He enjoys it twenty-five percent of the time—the other seventy-five percent was him actually wallowing in wanting someone to love him for him. 

After they were done, Harry immediately covered himself with the blanket as Lizette got out of the bed to change back into her clothes. Even though they had sex multiple times and she’s seen him naked, there was something about the vulnerability after the sex that he didn’t want her to see because she didn’t quite deserve that if he was being honest. 

“I had fun. Call you next time,” Lizette bid him goodbye before smacking a big kiss to his cheek, leaving a lipstick stain on his skin. She walked herself out, and once Harry heard the slam of the front door closing, he cringed slightly, wiping the lipstick off. 

He turned onto his side, deeply exhaling. He didn’t feel anything but numbness—it was always like this. He used sex to cope with how he felt, but it only made it worse. Honestly, he didn’t know what else to do, so it was the only thing he turned to, other than boxing. 

Harry fell asleep in his lonely room by himself. His heart was empty and felt like an isolated building that only carried his sadness. 

The entire week had gone by in a flash — Fight Night was officially closed down for good. 

Harry and Benny helped clean the space out as they reminisced and talked about the memories that were made in that gym. A lot of the stories had to do with girls walking by the gym, glancing through the window to see men working out, and then promptly walking into the gym to try and hit on the guys. 

Harry had tried convincing Henson that he could run the gym, but he shot down the idea before Harry could convince him. 

“Kid, look. If you want to run your own gym, do it. I want you to own a gym under your name. Not mine or Mike’s. You deserve to have something of your own, and whatever that may be, work for it. Work hard for it. I know you got it in you because you’re a hard worker, determined. You need to see that for yourself.” 

A conversation that was supposed to convince Henson to let Harry run the gym turned into a sentimental series of words that Harry really needed to hear. Harry didn’t say anything else and nodded as he took in Henson’s words to his heart. Henson was someone Harry looked up to. He was an old man with wise words, and everything he said was either meaningful or mean, in a way to show tough love. So, his words were something Harry lived by. 

The following Monday after Fight Night closed, Benny and Harry were on the search for their new gym. They didn’t plan on quitting the gym after their favorite one had closed down, and Henson and Mike made them swear they wouldn’t stop working out. 

Now, the two were walking into a gym that was up the same amount of time Fight Night was. ‘Don’s Box’ was what the gym was called. The building was newly reconstructed, making the place seem more modern and a little less dingy. The space was quite big, able to fit two rings, six punching bags spread throughout, eight-speed bags, and a weight rack. The walls were painted black, but the amount of natural light from the window was plentiful enough to make the gym feel bigger and brighter. 

A decent amount of people were at the gym, sectioned off with a few kids from eight to twelve on one side, and the rest of the adults on the other. There was a good mix between women and men, and everyone hyped everyone up with motivating words and claps over the music that was playing through two speakers that were hung in the corner. 

“Can I help you?” An older man with gray hair had asked the two. He looked quite intimidating; wearing nylon sweatpants and a black long-sleeved shirt that was rolled up to his elbows, showing his gold watch. The look he had on his face was stern as he crossed his arms, waiting for an answer. 

“Uh, yeah. We’re interested in joining your gym,” Benny told the man. The man looked the two up and down and scoffed. 

“Sure you guys are ready for that?” 

“We’ve been boxing for years, so yeah, we are.” Harry chimed in, a slightly defensive tone added to his words. 

The man glared at Harry, stepping towards him. Harry was slightly taller than him, but he knew the man could definitely take him at any given moment, but Harry wasn’t looking to fight the man, honestly. He wanted to act and look tough in front of him, so the guy wouldn’t give him any crap for it later down the road during his workouts. 

“Alright, alright. Take it easy, pa.” You interrupted, placing a hand on the man’s shoulders, making him turn his head. You raised your brows at him before tilting your head a bit, telling him to step back. The man backed off, giving Harry a snarly glance before huffing. 

“I’m just messing. Gotta know how tough my athletes are to be here,” he spoke in a lighter tone than he was to the man in front of him, putting his arm around you. 

“Thought you were gonna ‘stay on the sidelines’ and let me handle it?” You quoted your father’s words back to him, and he chuckled, putting his hands up, surrendering as he knew he couldn’t win against you. 

“Alright, alright. I’ll let you handle it.” Don, your father, quickly looked at Harry up and down, and you rolled your eyes, knowing he wouldn’t do anything to potential customers. He walked away and you breathed out a chuckle, scratching your head. 

“Sorry about that. You two are interested in joining?” You asked the two men in front of you. They were rather…attractive, you noticed. The one on the left was gorgeous with beautiful brown skin that looked so smooth. He was wearing a pair of red short-shorts and a white muscle tee. You noticed that he was wearing a wedding ring, so you averted your eyes off of him. The man next to him, however, was absolutely stunning. His left arm carried a sleeve-full of tattoos, and you wanted so badly to examine and look at every single one. With chocolate brown curls, his green eyes had a tad bit of a glimmer to them, not too much though, because if you were being honest, they were a bit dull, like he was exhausted and needed to let off some of the stress that he held based on how tense he looked. 

You tried not to observe and think about it too much as your ability to read individuals thrived while meeting new people. You shook it off the thought, not wanting to assume things about their lives and seem too creepy in front of new and potential members. 

“Yeah, we are. I’m Benny, by the way.” He shook your hand, smiling. 

“Nice to meet you. I’m Y/N. I run this place.” You offered the same smile back. Your eyes looked over at his friend, and he gave you a soft smile. “Y/N,” you repeated, taking your hand out for him to shake. 

“I’m Harry. Harry Styles,” he introduced fully. A beautiful name for a beautiful man, you thought. He shook your hand as you felt the softness of his skin mixed with a tad bit of roughness from the callouses, probably from heavy-lifting. 

Something about Harry introducing his full name had made you a bit weak in the knees. His deep and accented voice had made you a bit flustered as chills ran up your body. You’re acting like a fool, your subconscious told you. You were never one to show your obvious attraction for men, you were more into watching them from the side. But once Harry walked in, it seemed like you didn’t know how to keep your chill. 

“Perfect. Nice to meet you both. Signing up shouldn’t be too long—don’t want to keep you two from working out.” You led the two men to one of the offices, knocking on the wooden door to greet Jamie. “Hi. These two are looking to sign up. Do you mind helping them out?” 

“Of course! Come on in, guys,” Jamie greeted them, offering them to take a seat along with some water, which they both said yes to. 

“I have to get back to my session, but you both are in great hands. Jamie is one of our best,” you told the two. You sent an innocent wink at Jamie, which he sent one back while Harry watched the entire interaction, feeling uneasy. 

It was quite obvious how attractive and pretty you were. The moment he first saw you, his breath had immediately hitched in his throat. You had the most gorgeous face he’d ever seen, and when you spoke, your voice was soft and gentle, making Harry a bit more safe in a place he’s new to. 

Jamie had gotten their details and credit card information down before asking them if they needed a tour of the place. They both had said no, seeing as things were pretty self-explanatory and they’d been to a boxing gym before. 

They headed out of Jamie’s office and to the main floor, walking over to the heavy bags since the section was less crowded to start stretching. Harry rolled his shoulders and neck around, swinging his arms forwards and backward as he looked around the gym. 

This was something he had to get used to��being in a new place, surrounded by new people. At Fight Night, he was around the same people for four years, and he was comfortable — he was fine with it. But now, he had to go through the same process all over again. Nerves and anxiety crept up his skin as he tried to jump around lightly, warming up a bit but also trying to shake off the unwanted feelings. 

“Hey, you okay?” Benny asked concerningly as he stretched. 

Harry’s brows raised, covering up his anxiousness. “Hmm, yeah, I am. Y’know, just a, uh, new place, that’s all,” he brushed him off. 

“Okay. Well, whenever you’re ready to go, just tell me,” Benny told him before going into his bag to grab the wrapping tape. 

Harry nodded, smiling in appreciation. Benny had always been a great friend to him, and Harry was a great friend to Benny as well. They always took each other’s feelings and concerns into consideration—always making sure the other is okay. They both really appreciated it because some friends weren’t lucky enough to talk about their feelings and be that vulnerable with one another. They trusted each other; they were like brothers. 

Harry grabbed his jump rope, deciding to do a little five-minute warm-up to get his heart rate going. He faced the boxing ring to the left of him, noticing that you were in the ring, so he decided to casually watch you box. He then noticed that you had boxing pads on instead of gloves, and the people you were training were the kids that he had seen earlier. 

He watched you instruct the excited kids who were prancing around with their boxing gloves on, in every color imagined. You helped them fix their form, their stance, and their punch; telling them that they had to be quick with their hit to bring their glove back to the side of their face quickly, so their opponent doesn’t have a chance to take a hit. The kids demonstrated for you, punching your right hand that was covered with the pad. You praised all of them, of course, correcting a few things, but overall, everyone was a natural fighter. 

Harry’s heart rate definitely started to pick up, and he didn’t know if it was how fast he was jumping rope or because of the flutter he felt as he watched you interact with the kids. He truly never felt this kind of feeling where his heart picked up from the simple act of looking at someone. 

You had definitely noticed Harry staring at you from your peripheral view, and you had thought it was a simple glance, but he never looked away. So, you took the opportunity to take a quick look at him while the kids were practicing. 

Your eyes met him and you sent him a small smile, along with a wave with your boxing pads. Harry’s eyes widened, realizing that you were waving at him, and what happened next had embarrassed him even more. With how fast he was jumping, he suddenly got tangled with the rope, causing him to trip against it. Luckily, he caught his fall, but he was already embarrassed enough. 

Harry’s heart completely dropped, cheeks flushed. He couldn’t believe he had made a complete fool of himself, especially at his new gym. He so badly wanted to tell Benny that he was ready to leave, but when he looked over at his friend, he had already started his workout, being so focused and in the zone that Harry didn’t want to be a burden. 

When he turned back around to see if you were still looking, he jolted back a bit as you were behind him. 

“Are you okay?” You asked concerningly. 

“Uh, yeah. I…yeah, I’m okay. Thanks.” He cleared his throat, trying to cover up the fact that his voice almost cracked. He was so stunned by you. The way you made sure he was okay was possibly the nicest thing someone had done for him as you looked at him with your sweet eyes, and your posture was giving him your full attention. His heart pounded through his chest; the simple action and effort that was being put into this was making him overwhelmed. 

“Okay. Let me know if you need anything, yeah?” You told him as you looked at him intently. He simply nodded, knowing that he couldn’t process any more words. 

You gave him one last smile before quickly going back to your students. He watched you climb into the ring so effortlessly before continuing your training class. 

Harry took a deep breath before walking over to one of the speed bags that was in the corner, hoping to hide away from the embarrassment that he felt. Wrapping his hands up, he anxiously scanned the room, noticing that everyone was doing their own thing. There was a possibility that no one else had seen him almost fall on his face, except you, which he really wished that it was the entire gym who saw him instead, not you. He lazily hit the speed bag, trying to warm up and shake off his mortification. Harry continued hitting the bag, eventually getting into a rhythm as his fists alternated between one another, along with the rhythm of the music of Montrell Jordan’s ‘This Is How We Do It.’ 

Soon enough, all the worry and stress that was in Harry’s head and body was shaken off and completely forgotten about as he focused on his strong punches, making sure to connect his mind to his muscles, so he could feel his muscles working. 

And for the time being, life wasn’t all that bad. 

A month had passed since being at Don’s Box, and Harry and Benny quite liked it. They had newer equipment and their music was always on point, playing the best of 90s R&B and Hip-Hop. It was their favorite music to listen to, especially while working out. The people there were nice and cool, never getting in each other’s way and letting everyone do their own thing while still having fun, keeping the space safe and comfortable. 

Harry found himself walking into the gym at nine at night, an hour and a half before it closed. Usually, he wouldn’t work out this late, but during the day, he had felt so unmotivated and lazy to even get out of bed. He could put the blame on Lizette because she had gone to his house the night prior, doing the same thing they always do, but he knew she wasn’t the one to blame. Something about saying no to her and having her not talk to him had physically pained him. They were in a specific arrangement, he knew that. But having someone leave him again was something he couldn’t go through. 

‘What’s Luv?’ by Fat Joe, Ja Rule, and Ashanti was playing when he set his bag down onto the ground against the wall, next to the heavy bag. He started to stretch as he took a look around; not many people were working out at this time, which he liked. 

His eyes continued to search the gym, in hopes he would find you still here. Before the slightest bit of disappointment could settle, he saw you walk out of the hallway with Jamie, smiling and laughing at something he had said. He made a face as a hint of jealousy rushed through as he saw you with Jamie. He knew that there was no point in being jealous because he barely even knew you. But for the past month that he’s been at Don’s Box, you always had this look of excitement on your face when you saw and greeted Harry. It made his stomach flutter every time you would flash him your beautiful smile as you would carry the conversation, asking him about his day and if the music was good, which he commends you for putting his favorite songs on. 

Looking away, he decided to just focus on the quick workout he could get in before the gym closed, so he retained his attention back to stretching before bending down to grab the tape from his bag to wrap his hands. 

“Uh, hi, Harry,” you smiled as you greeted him. He looked up at you. The way the light was positioned behind your head made you look like an actual angel; you were ethereal. 

He stood up and smiled softly. “Hi. How are you?” He asked, trying to contain his nerves from just looking at you. You were gorgeous, as you always are every day. You were wearing a pair of black leggings and a light pink t-shirt that was tied into a knot with the word ‘angel’ that was surrounded by wings printed in the middle. Kind of a coincidence, he thought, thinking back to when he called you an angel in his head. 

“Good, good. You’re here later than usual—without Benny too,” you pointed out, but immediately cursed at yourself for making such an odd observation and telling it to his face as if you were keeping track of the times he’s gone into the gym. 

“Yeah, I was pretty…tired during the day, so the only time I got a burst of energy was right now. And Benny is with his wife and in-laws tonight, so it’s just me tonight,” he explained with a soft chuckle. 

“Well, glad you got the chance to make it in,” you said genuinely. He simply nodded, not knowing what else to say but instead he captured himself into you as you stared at him with your captivating eyes that spoke right through him. What was happening to him? He thought. This hadn’t really happened before, and he was good at letting his walls go up and guarding his precious heart. 

“Hey, I’m gonna head out,” Jamie said, greeting you goodbye, and taking Harry out of his thoughts. “Hey, man. Have a good workout.” He shook Harry’s hand, and Harry smiled, nodding. 

“See you tomorrow,” you told Jamie, smiling a bit as you waved. Jamie left the gym, and it was just you and Harry, along with a few other people who were wrapping up their workout. 

“Are you not gonna go with him?” Harry asked, and you raised your brows in confusion. 

“Why would I go with him?” You wondered. 

“Oh, I just thought you would leave with him, y’know, your boyfriend…” he trailed off, slyly slipping in the word boyfriend in that sentence. 

You giggled, shaking your head. “No, no. Jamie isn't my boyfriend. I’ve known him since I was ten, but nothing’s ever happened between us. Besides, he has a boyfriend of his own.” Harry raised his brows in shock as his shoulders visibly relaxed. “No need to worry, Harry. I’m all yours,” you flirted a bit. You normally wouldn’t flirt so easily with someone, especially if they were a member of your gym, but something about Harry had made you release all the stress you had once you saw and talked to him. 

Harry blushed, grinning as his dimple popped out on his cheek. Your eyes lightened once you noticed that feature, making you think that he was ten times cuter than he already is. 

“You’ve been in the ring, right?” You asked curiously. Harry nodded, and the corner of your lips turned up. “Great! We have about a little less than an hour and a half, so if you’re looking for some intense cardio, I could do it with you—y’know, train you and guide you, and whatnot,” you suggested. 

If Harry’s being honest, he wasn’t planning on doing cardio today—just a few routines to get his muscles warm, but the way you’re looking at him and how you spoke to him so softly and effortlessly, he couldn’t say no. 

“Yeah, I’m up for it,” he responded. Your eye brightened, resisting the urge to squeal from excitement, telling him that you were going to get the mitts and to meet you in the ring. He chuckled slightly as you walked over to the equipment room to get the mitts. Harry quickly hit the speed bag to warm up until he saw you walk out of the room. 

He put on his gray sweater and a green packers beanie, so he could sweat more before he met you in the ring with his gloves pressed between his arm and the side of his body. You put the mitts in between your legs as Harry handed you one of the gloves. Holding onto the end of it, he put his hand inside as you pushed the glove towards him, so it would sit on his hand tightly before strapping it securely for him before proceeding to the next one. The proximity between you two was quite close as you helped him put on the gloves, and you could smell the faint scent of cologne mixed with the slightest bit of sweat, giving him that unique musk; the one that doesn’t smell horrible at all but lured you in. 

You quickly snapped out of your thoughts and looked up at Harry. “Good?” He nodded, punching the gloves together to make sure they felt comfortable. “Ready?” 

“Let’s do this,” Harry said, skipping in place to warm his body up before getting into his stance. His left leg was a few feet away from his right leg as he bounced around a bit, waiting for you. 

You faintly smirked, nodding your head before you put on the mitts. Since Harry was very familiar with the mitt workouts, you figured that you didn’t need to explain what each number represented since mostly all trainers and coaches use the same numbers for the same punch. 

“Okay, let’s warm up a bit. Give me one,” you instructed. Harry put his gloves up to protect his face as you held your right mitt up. With his left hand, he punched your mitt, not giving his full strength. “Is that all you got?” You challenged, knowing that he had more power in him. 

“I-I don’t want to hurt you,” he said honestly with a small pout, standing straight from his boxing stance. Usually, you would take offense to that statement, barking back a comment saying that just because you were a girl it didn’t mean you couldn’t take a hit, but you didn’t go that far into it, knowing Harry didn’t mean it that way whatsoever. 

“You’re not gonna hurt me, Harry. I’ve trained so many people—all with different body types and strengths. My hand has felt all different types of power, so hit the mitt like you mean it.” You hit his shoulder, building up his motivation. He nodded, getting back into his stance as did you. “Now, give me one.” 

This time, Harry’s glove met your mitt with full potential and force, and you took the hit well—not moving back or being stunned. 

“There you go! Keep going,” you told him, and he continued giving you jabs. ‘In Da Club’ by 50 Cent was blaring through the speakers as Harry breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth. Several huffs of breath came out loudly as he punched, moving and dancing around the ring with you as the two of you occasionally shifted and switched positions. 

Harry got in a few more punches before you switched it up, telling him, “1-2.” Harry jabbed with his left hand and crossed jabbed with his right hand, putting his full range of motion into his right punch. He did that combination five times as he started to feel sweat dripping down his back and the sides of his forehead. 

You were yelling out words of encouragement and motivation, praising him for his punches, to which he responded back with a better and solid punch to your mitts. 

“Nice!” You took a step back to move around the ring to take advantage of the space as Harry jumped and skipped around to wherever you directed him to. “Wanna take a break?” You asked. He shook his head no, determined to finish this workout that he couldn’t even think about wanting to take a break because he really didn’t want to. “Okay, 1-4-3,” you told him. With force, he jabbed, hooked with his left hand, and hooked with his right hand. 

This feeling that he had felt—being in the ring with you—was something entirely different than when he was in the ring with Henson or Mike. The stress that he physically carried onto his shoulder had washed away into nothingness, leaving him with a drive that didn’t include overthinking and fear. The fear that had left him worried and depressed, that his life would amount to nothing—that fear disappeared inside him once he threw the first punch. It was exhilarating and fun, and he didn’t know he could have this much fun in the ring. But this was the most pleasure he’s ever felt while boxing. 

You ordered him to do some different combinations, such as ‘1-2-3-5,’ which was a jab, cross jab, leading hook, and rear uppercut. You also included moments when he had to duck because you were swinging at him. He definitely had gotten into a rhythm, punching and moving faster. You were the trainer, the person that was supposed to instruct him, but you matched his rhythm and energy and moved quicker with him as well. 

You were starting to get a sweat in as well, and that was mostly because of the adrenaline rushing through your blood as you moved excitedly around the ring. 

After a while, a timer had gone off, telling you that it was time to close up as Harry’s focus was cut off—the sound making him look up hastily. Throughout the time you were working out with Harry, people were slowly starting to make their way out, but the two of you were too focused on working out that you hadn’t even noticed that it was just the two of you left in the gym. 

“Oh, guess we’re closing.” You stood up straighter, wiping the sweat on your forehead with your forearm. “Feelin’ good?” You asked Harry with a proud smile. 

“Feelin’ great,” he smirked. 

“Good, I’m glad. You did great!” You complimented, ripping the velcro strap with your teeth as you took off the mitts. Harry did the same, shaking out his arms as he clenched and unclenched his fists to relieve the ache from making a fist for more than an hour. 

“Thank you. You’re a really great trainer, by the way. This was…the first time I had fun in the ring,” he told you honestly, and without knowing, the slightest bit of him had opened up to you. 

Your eyes brightened, a glimpse of shimmer reflected on your eyes. “Really? Thank you, that makes me really happy, actually.” You felt like you were going to cry on the spot. No one, except your younger students, had ever told you that they had fun in the ring since most people used boxing as a way to get stronger and improve their punches. But fun? That was the first, and you would definitely keep that with you forever. 

You and Harry walked to one end of the ring as Harry held open the top two ropes with his hand as he stepped on the bottom two ropes with his foot, holding it open for you to get out. You blushed, thanking him before you got out of the ring as he followed you out. 

Once you two were on the ground, you turned around to face him. You watched as he took off his beanie, shaking his hair out as they bounced; curls were now formed into waves because of the heat and the sweat that had produced in his beanie. He looked…extra good right now. With his cheeks flushed, hair messy, and sweat dripping down his forehead, you couldn’t put into words how incredibly sexy he looked. 

You cleared your throat, not wanting to get caught for ogling him. “I, uh, have to check on some things before closing. Take your time! And I’ll see you on Monday?” You raised your brows and curled your lips in as you looked up at him. A sense of flustered-ness settled in you as you waited for his answer. 

He breathed out a chuckle as he looked down briefly before looking back into your eyes again. “Yeah, I’ll see you.” You nodded your head, waving at him before you headed over to the office. Harry smiled as he watched you walk into the hallway until he couldn’t see you anymore. 

A small blush formed onto his cheeks as he contained himself from smiling too big and too wide. He put all of his stuff back into his bag, grabbing his towel, ridding the sweat off his skin. Grabbing his belongings, he took another glance at the hallway, hoping to get another look at you before he took off, but you were occupied with closing the gym, so he didn’t bother staying any longer. 

With a small smile on his face, he walked out of the gym, taking in this new profound feeling that he’d never felt before, hoping this feeling would last. 

The next morning, Harry had a sudden urge to go back to the gym. His upper body was quite sore, but he figured he could do some leg exercises to balance the soreness he felt. He normally wouldn’t workout on the weekends since those were his rest days, but despite being sore, he didn’t feel tired. It could also do with the fact that he wanted to see you again, not wanting to wait until Monday to do that again. 

When he walked into the gym, ‘Ride Wit Me’ by Nelly was playing and his head slightly bopped to the music, walking over to the corner of the gym to warm up. He scanned the gym, looking for a particular person, but couldn’t find you. There were a decent amount of people, not too crowded or too little, so it should’ve been easy to find you. Thinking that you were probably in your office, he shook off the slight disappointment and got ready to workout. 

Throughout his workout, his head wasn’t in it. He kept glancing through the mirror to see if you had shown up, but you hadn’t. His eyes were always looking over at the front door every time someone would walk in, but a small frown settled onto his face when he realized it wasn’t you. 

He wrapped up his workout an hour later, thinking that he somewhat still got a good workout in. He walked out of the gym, saying bye to some of the guys that had caught him before he left. 

It was nearing noon when his stomach had growled, urging him to consume some food. There was a Mediterranean hole-in-the-wall restaurant right across Don’s Box, and his mouth watered at the thought of it. He walked to his car that was parked on the side of the street to drop his bag off before walking across the street to the restaurant. 

He scanned the menu, standing on the side since he didn’t know what he was ordering yet. The sound of the door ringing and a voice that was speaking to him brought him out of his thoughts. 

“Are you in line?” Harry turned his head towards the voice, and his heart nearly beating ten times faster when he saw you. He had a shocked expression on his face, not expecting to see you, especially when you were wearing the complete opposite of what he normally sees you in. You were wearing a pair of blue denim overalls with a black t-shirt underneath, along with white Reebok sneakers. You had a bit of makeup on; an orange sparkly eyeshadow look with some mascara that made your eyelashes look full and natural. Your lips were painted in a red-orange lipstick stain, bringing out more of your natural lip color. 

The beauty that Harry’s eyes were blessed with made his knees weak, sending shivers to his skin. Your angelic appearance had struck him so hard that he was sure he would see the light of day, hoping to meet you up there since you were a real-life angel. 

“Y/N…hi,” he managed to spit out. 

“Hi, Harry. Did you just workout?” You asked. 

He nodded, feeling a bit nervous. “Uh, yeah, I did.” 

“You don’t usually go in on Saturdays…” you noticed, only seeing him during the weekdays. You’re off on Saturdays, but there was one Saturday that you had gone into the gym briefly, and you didn’t see him there. 

“Yeah, I felt like going in today,” he said, obviously leaving out the part that he only went to the gym to see you again, but you didn’t need to know that bit. There was a moment of silence between you two until Harry remembered that he was probably holding up the line for you. “Oh, you could go ahead. I’m not ready to order yet.” 

You smiled, nodding your head as you stepped forward in the line. “Have you ever been here before?” 

“No, I haven’t. Do you have any suggestions?” 

You slightly squinted your eyes at him. “Do you trust me?” You asked. 

That was a difficult question for him, and somewhat vague. Did you mean overall, at the moment, or for his food order? Either way, he nodded because he knew that it didn’t matter what you meant--he had this sense of security with you that he would trust you with his life, and that said a lot, considering that he’d only known you for a month. 

“Yeah, I do trust you,” he stated honestly. 

His words brought a grin to your face, looking at him appreciatively. Based on your observations of him, you noticed that he was a bit closed off; he didn’t open himself up, and if he did, it took a lot in him to do just that. So, hearing him tell you that he trusts you made you grateful, and you would never do anything to take advantage of that trust because he didn’t just give it out easily. 

“I got you,” you simply said before turning back around towards the cashier. Harry softly smirked as he took a step forward to stand next to you. You looked at him, flashing him a toothy grin before quickly facing forward. 

You ordered your favorite dish from the restaurant, which was a beef kabab plate, for the both of you. Harry quickly got his wallet out, offering to pay, but you told him that you got it this time, hoping your words conveyed that you wanted there to be a next time. He shyly thanked you for the lunch, keeping your words in mind because he would definitely be up for a ‘next time.’ 

Luckily, you didn’t have to wait long for your order to come out, which was fortunate for Harry because he was starving. You suggested eating outside since it was a beautiful day out and Harry agreed, following you out of the restaurant. 

You two sat on the metal chairs, digging into your dishes. Harry’s mouth watered as he ate, his stomach being satisfied. There was a comfortable silence that settled between you two, only making small conversation when you asked if he liked the food, which you were glad to hear that he loved. 

“So, how long have you been running Don’s Box?” He suddenly asked, wanting to get to know you better. 

You raised your brows at his question. “For about two years now. My father, Don, opened the gym when he was twenty-five, that’s when he had me as well. But when he opened the gym, it practically changed his life. He’d boxed all of his life, and he was happy training other people when he started getting more people to come into his gym. When I was about six, he told me that he wanted me to run the gym when I turned twenty-five, only if I wanted to. But of course, I did. I looked up to him all of my life, and the gym made me happy as well,” you explained, smiling at the memory of when you were younger, being excited to turn twenty-five to do the same thing your father did. 

A soft smile appeared on Harry’s face as you reminisce on the memory. 

“How long have you been boxing?” 

“Since I was eight. Don showed me the ropes when I told him I was ready. There used to be a seating area on the side of the ring because when I was younger, I used to sit there and watch him work and train people. So, I was pretty interested and intrigued about fighting to get myself stronger, even at the young age of eight,” you chuckled. 

You were a daddy’s girl, always had been since you were born. Don had always set a pretty amazing example of how you should go about living your life. He would always say ‘Live your life with a strong punch. Keep your head up, and don’t let anything get to you because you’re so much more than what other people say. But if you need to cry, you can—there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that.’ 

As your eyes watered from the thought of your father’s words, Harry watched as you got emotional and he couldn’t help but think that you’ve crossed a line in asking too many questions. 

“Sorry, I always get emotional-”

“I’m sorry if I’ve overstepped—I should’ve kept the questions to myself-”

“Oh, no! You didn’t overstep whatsoever. I’m glad you asked me those questions, I just get soft and emotional over my dad, so hence, I’m tearing up,” you let out a somewhat pathetic chuckle as you couldn’t believe that you almost cried in front of this gorgeous man. You dabbed the corners of your eyes with your napkin, stopping the tears from falling out. 

Harry nodded understandingly, waiting for you to regroup yourself. You kept apologizing, but he kept telling you that you had nothing to be sorry for. 

“Really, if you need to cry, you can…” he told you. Your eyes widened; you were just thinking about your dad’s words two minutes ago, and for Harry to say the exact same thing Don had always told you without even knowing that Don had said those words. 

Not wanting to cry in front of him, you simply nodded your head, holding the napkin on the outer corner of your eye, so the napkin would catch your tears. 

Harry quickly changed the subject, sensing that you needed it, and you really did, so you were grateful for that. He busied himself by telling you what his favorite ice cream flavor was since he was suddenly reminded that there was a shop just down the street. He kept you occupied by talking about all the sweet treats that he used to eat with his mom back home, and how much he missed walking down the streets in the city to eat some ice cream. 

“My mum used to make this really great chocolate mousse pie, and we would eat it every weekend. It was extremely sweet, but it was delicious. I really miss it…” he told you. That had been a while ago, but it was like he could still taste the dessert as if he just ate it yesterday. 

“Is your mom back home in England?” You asked, figuring that there wasn’t any harm in asking to get to know him since he asked you some questions as well. 

“Uh…actually, I don’t know where she is…” he said honestly, and you knitted your brows in confusion. “I mean, honestly. I don’t know where she is. Ever since I went to uni, she’s been all over the place, taking vacations and barely calling. I-I feel like she’s forgotten about me,” he spoke ever so softly as he was fragile. 

You listened to him intently, giving him your full attention as he was opening up a part of his life that you knew he doesn’t tell a lot of people. A part of him that he’s kept in for so long and just the passing sense of relief he felt saying those words and speaking up about this subject had made him feel so much better. 

“I’m sure she didn’t forget about you.” 

“Seemed like it. We inherited my grandfather’s will—left us a generous amount for each of us that’ll take care of us for the rest of our lives. And she took that and ran with it. I mean, I get it—she wants to live her life, and now’s the time to do that because she’s got the money for it, but I feel…abandoned. She got up, said goodbye, and just…left. It just makes me think that I’m not good enough—that I wasn’t good enough to stay.” Harry opened a can of worms that he can’t take back anymore. But the trust that he had in you already made him want to talk about everything with you; to open up about all of his stresses and insecurities. 

Boldly, you reached your arm across the table but immediately pulled away because you didn’t want to touch him without asking. But before you could open your mouth and ask, Harry had reached forward, meeting your hand halfway as his palm was facing up as if it was a way of saying ‘you can hold my hand if you want.’ Blushing, you reached forward again and took your hand into his. 

The touch was sweet and tender as you two held hands; the want to hold each other tighter was present, wanting to take away Harry’s pain. 

“Harry, you will always be good enough. I know we just met a month ago, but I already know that you’re the sweetest, kindest person. Please know that. You are enough, and I’m grateful that you’re here and that I’m sitting across from you, eating lunch,” you declared. Harry sniffled, not knowing what to say as he put his head down, so you continued. “For as long as we’re friends, I’m gonna stay.” You spoke with complete honesty as you caressed the back of his hand with your thumb. 

Harry’s head lifted up at your last statement in disbelief as if this was the first time someone had ever said that to him. 

“Really?” 

You squeezed his hand, making his heart flutter. “Yeah. As long as you want me to,” you reassured, nodding. 

Harry gave you a soft and appreciating smile as he took a deep breath. The breath that he held in throughout the entirety of the conversation was finally let out in relief. He shrunk back into his seat, still holding your hand as you continued rubbing it, and he breathed out a chuckle. It was an overwhelming feeling that was riddled with happiness and a sense of security washed over him. 

It was like he had been waiting for you; someone new that unexpectedly came into his life was scary because it was change, but it was a good change. A change for the better. He had been vulnerable enough to open himself up, and it all led to the tight bond and trust you two had with one another, sealing your friendship and relationship. 

And you both knew this moment was going to change everything. 

Time had passed by rather quickly as it was nearing the end of October. The weather was getting chillier as the sun was beginning to disappear behind the clouds earlier. There was something about the fall weather that Harry adored. It may have to do with the fact that the gloomy sky had occurred more often, or how he got to call it a night early. Whatever it may be, he liked it, or he used to. 

In recent times, he wanted the sun to stay out until it was time to go to bed. He wanted warm days instead of gloomy. His new changed attitude towards life had to do with you. 

You and Harry had been hanging out quite a lot; getting to know one another, getting a bite or drink, and working out together, it definitely gave Harry the chance to let go of his past. He was happier, smiled more, and laughed a lot which he didn’t know he was capable of doing those things again until he met you. 

Benny loved it, though. He sure cherished it because seeing his best friend happy again was something he was afraid he wouldn’t see again. But that didn’t stop him from having a little talk with you, trying to protect Harry and set you straight. 

When Harry was occupied with hitting the speed bag, Benny walked over to the ring, where you had just finished another class with your younger students. 

“Hey, Benny!” You greeted him once you saw him walk towards you. 

“Hey, do you mind chatting for a minute?” You raised your brows, nodding your head. Benny usually didn’t talk to you privately nor was it anything serious, but by the look on his face, it seemed pretty serious. “So, you’ve been hanging out with Harry a lot, hmm?” 

You smiled softly. “Yeah! Hope you don’t mind that? Know I’m taking your best friend and all…” 

“No, I don’t mind. I’m actually glad you are. He seems quite taken by you, and I haven’t seen him like that in a very long time,” Benny said honestly. You seemed to know where this conversation was going now, and now that you thought about it, you expected this from Benny because they were like brothers and Benny would do anything to protect Harry. “What I’m trying to say is…if you’re only hanging out with him to fuck with him, don’t bother. He’s been through enough, and I know he can’t handle anymore of that and I can’t stand to see him like that again.” 

“Like what?” You hesitatingly asked. 

“Like…just know that he was a mess. He couldn’t get up, eat, drink, shower, or anything. I had to physically help him. I don’t want to see him like that ever again.” Benny shook his head as if he was reliving the horrible nightmare that he went through a few years ago. 

“Is this about his mom?” 

“He told you that?” He asked, just to make sure, and you nodded. “Kind of. But that’s only half of it. He’ll tell you when he’s ready, but I’ve already said too much. Just…take care of him, okay? He tries to act tough sometimes, but he’s trying his best to not break down. Although, I haven’t seen that kind of look on him since he’s been hanging out with you, so you’re probably doing something right.” 

You nodded understandingly. “Thanks for talking to me. I don’t plan on breaking his heart at all, and I’m quite taken with him myself,” you admitted. 

“Good. I’m glad you are. He’s a great guy.” Benny smiled, and you agreed. 

Benny didn’t talk to you for much longer before he started getting cold from standing around, so he ended the conversation and went back to working out. 

Meanwhile, as you and Benny were talking, Don took the chance himself to talk to Harry, seeing as you were occupied. 

“Harry.” Don made himself present around him. 

Harry immediately stopped his workout, greeting your father. “What’s up, Don?” 

“So, I’ve noticed that you’ve been hanging around Y/N a lot.” Don’s stance changed as he crossed his arms, sporting a slight frown. Harry gulped; he always found Don to be quite intimidating, ever since he joined the gym, but Harry didn’t want to seem like he couldn’t have a serious conversation with the father of the woman that he’s slowly falling for--no, he couldn’t act like that. “What’s that all about?” Don added. 

“I’m just…we’re friends, so we’re just hanging out. Nothing more,” he told Don honestly. Although he would like there to be more, he didn’t know how you felt about him or if you even felt anything for him at all. 

Don nodded. He could tell that Harry was holding back on something he wanted to say, and he had an idea of what that was. So, he let loose of the intimidating and protective act, knowing that wasn’t really him anyway, and his expression softened as he uncrossed his arms. He placed a comforting hand on Harry’s shoulder, taking a deep breath. 

“You have this look of wanting to say more and you don’t have to tell me, but I will tell you this…if you want to date her and go out with her, you can. This isn’t approval and a ‘yes’ for you to take her out because I don’t need to do that--she can make her own decisions. All I’m saying is that if you want to, go for it. Life is too fuckin’ short to not do anything, to not say anything.” 

Harry’s shoulders relaxed and he smiled in appreciation at Don’s words. “Thanks, Don. I definitely want to take her out, but I just don’t know how she feels about me.” 

“Oh, I’m pretty sure she feels something for you--she hasn’t told me, but I just know. You’re the first guy in a while that she’s been hanging around with consistently, and that comforts me, in a way. Knowing that she’s living her life and not holding back anymore.” Harry stayed silent, taking his words in. He tried not to overanalyze what Don had said because you’ll tell him and open up to him when you want to, just like how you’re patiently waiting for Harry to open up fully as well. “Just…don’t break her heart, okay? She’s been through enough and I just want her to be happy.” 

Harry nodded understandingly, saying a soft ‘okay’ before Don changed the subject and talked about how  Harry should train with him one of these days, which Harry immediately said yes to and they planned for the following week to train. Don left him to finish his workout, telling him to have a nice night as you and Harry were going out to dinner. 

Benny and Harry finished up their workout, and before they were able to head out the front door, Harry stopped, telling Benny to give him a minute. Harry fast-walked towards you, lugging his bag on his shoulder. You were coming out of your office, which was why Harry couldn’t say goodbye to you after his workout. 

“Hey, we’re heading out,” he said, wiping the bit of sweat on the back of his neck with his towel. 

“Oh, okay. I’ll see you later?” 

“Yeah, I’ll pick you up,” Harry suggested, pursing his lips into his mouth as he contained his smile. You nodded, eyes sparkling as you looked up at him. “I’ll, uh, page you,” he slightly smirked. 

“Okay,” you mindlessly responded as you were getting quite lost in his green eyes that looked at you intently with a gleam that sat so perfectly against his irises, making his eyes glimmer brightly.

He gave you one last smile and a little wave before walking out of the gym with Benny. You were left stunned as you stood there, completely drifted away from reality as you were in a dream about Harry. You felt a small nudge on your shoulder, causing you to snap out of your thoughts and dream as you turned around to see your father laughing. 

“Get back to work.” A smug plastered on his face. 

A breathy chuckle was released from your mouth as a hint of embarrassment emerged onto your face with wide eyes. You got back to work, focusing your attention on training your next client, but your mind was racing at the thought of Harry. 

As he promised, Harry paged you when he was outside of your apartment complex. He wanted to knock on your door like the proper gentleman that he is, but the buzzer machine to let people in wasn’t working, so paging you would have to do for now. He waited for you outside of his newly washed car, making sure it was nice and clean for you as he leaned against the passenger door. 

You walked out of your building, and Harry was immediately blown away. You were wearing a black skirt with stockings that hugged your legs, and a white knitted sweater since it was on the chillier side. 

Every time he saw you, his heart would beat incredibly fast, pulse pounding through his veins. His stomach was in flits of butterflies, soaring in his heart and stomach, making him extremely nervous. Every time he saw you, everything would stop, like you were the only person in the world and everything was okay. 

“Hey, H,” you flashed him your smile, one that he looked forward to every time he saw you. 

“H-Hi,” he stuttered, clearing his throat to start over. “Hi. You look really nice.” 

You blushed. “Thank you! You look great as well. Love this top.” You reached forward, lightly tugging at his red-orange knitted long-sleeve. He paired it with blue jeans that flared at the bottom with white sneakers. His fingers were covered in beautiful silver rings, making his hands look quite gorgeous. 

“Thank you, shall we?” 

“Yeah, oh, I got you something.” You reached into your bag to take out the cased CD, and before Harry was about to protest, you handed it to him. “I made you this mixtape. Just some songs that I think you’ll like—I’m sure you know all of them, but they just made me think of you,” you said shyly. 

You weren’t normally shy and you would call yourself a pretty strong and confident person, but you had been so nervous to give this to him—even making the tape left you anxious and shaking. 

“Wow, this is…very thoughtful of you. Thank you so much.” Harry looked at the CD with the songs written in your handwriting. There were 10 songs, and Harry knew all of them. They were all…romantic songs. 

“That’s not weird, right? Y’know, making you a mixtape?” You asked unsurely. The odd feeling had popped into your mind at the last second as you watched Harry observe the CD, not giving a bad nor good reaction to your gift. 

“No, not at all! I really appreciate this. No one has ever made a mixtape for me before, so this is really nice and special. Thank you again.” He reached forward, wrapping one arm around your shoulders as both of your arms found their way around his waist. You somewhat weren’t convinced that he liked it, and he could tell just by how you were looking at him--looking for some more reassurance--that it seemed like he didn’t like it. When he pulled away, he looked at you before saying, “Really, it makes me happy that you took the time to make this for me. It’s so sweet and thoughtful of you, and I already love all the songs on here, so I’m one-hundred-percent going to enjoy this.” 

You nodded, smiling softly as he opened the door for you and you thanked him, blushing as you got in. It seemed very much like a date and you couldn’t help but smile at the thought of that. 

Harry drove to the sandwich shop that waited for you both. It was twenty minutes away on the other side of the town, but Harry had been raving about it so much to you that you told him that you two should go, which Harry was more than happy to take you. 

The sound of Boyz II Men filled the speakers of Harry’s car as the two of you sang your hearts out to ‘On Bended Knees,’ putting full emotion and passion into singing. You held up your water bottle, pretending that it was a microphone, and Harry kept shifting his gaze on you, trying to keep his eyes on the road, but also wanting to look at you as you sang. He smiled to himself, absolutely loving how you were so carefree--something that he admired about you. 

His heart fluttered, curling his lips into his mouth before he did something that was quite bold of him to do. Reaching over, he grabbed your hand, intertwining your fingers together. Your body was frozen, but you continued to sing, covering up the fact that Harry was holding your hand so casually. You were stiff as a board, so you tried loosening up, swaying your body from side to side, slightly averting your eyes towards him as he continued to drive. 

The moonlight cast through the car window, giving him a dim glow, accentuating his features; jawline prominent, his lashes shadowed down onto his cheeks, and his eyes were calm; the light reflecting against his glassy green eyes. Your heartbeat a million miles a minute as you looked at him. You had this appreciation and admiration for him--that you were lucky and grateful that you have him and that there was nothing more beautiful than the man sitting beside you. 

With your face on fire, you smiled as you carried on, singing with the warmth of Harry’s hand connected with yours. 

You were sitting across Harry, munching on your sandwich as you listened to him talk about how he wanted to actually find a job. He’s been sitting around, living quite wealthy as his inheritance sat safely. But he’d been getting bored. Every day was a routine for him and it was a pretty boring routine, he would say. The only places he really went to were the gym and the places that the two of you went together, but that was it. He needed a hobby, something that he could escape to that doesn’t require breaking a sweat from punching bags and mitts. 

“You said you like books, so maybe you could see if the bookstore down the street from the gym is hiring. That would be a nice little place to work at,” you suggested. 

Harry’s eyes lightened up, apart from thinking that was a great idea and the other part from being surprised that you remembered such a small detail about him when he’d talked about books briefly with you. 

“I should definitely do that, thank you. I love that bookstore, it’s-”

“Y/N?” Harry was interrupted by a man who had walked over to your table. Harry looked up, observing the guy as he was looking at you so intently. He quickly looked at you as you were looking up at the man with a shocked expression on your face, wide eyes and mouth slightly opened. 

“Uh, hi,” you said, feeling slightly uncomfortable. Your eyes glanced at Harry and he had a worried expression on his face, eyes asking if you were okay. You nodded softly, bringing your attention back to him. 

“I-I’ve been calling the gym and paging you, but you haven’t been answering any of them…” the man mentioned slyly. You were quite speechless, not expecting him to be here and not knowing what to say. 

“I, uh-”

“Can we talk right now?” He asked. You were flickering your eyes between Harry, someone that you were completely infatuated with, and the man that you were completely irritated with. But if you didn’t talk to him right now, he wouldn’t leave you alone and wouldn’t stop calling you, so you made the mistake of saying a soft ‘okay’ as you got up, looking over at Harry, giving a subtle smile. 

Just by the way he was looking at you, you knew you had regretted your decision and you wished that you hadn’t given in so easily. 

Once you were outside, you crossed your arms, in a way to seem reserved and closed off, but in reality, you really were. The uncomfortableness you felt was something you haven’t felt in a while as it felt like your stomach was boiling as bile salivated your mouth. Your fists were hidden underneath your arms, clenching, and your lips were curled into your mouth to immediately spew inappropriate sayings and vile remarks. 

“What do you want to talk about?” You asked, brows pinched together. 

“I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for quite a while now, but I just wanted to talk. I hate how we ended things…” he said remorsefully. You tried not to fall for the pouty look he was giving you as if he knew quite well you would fall for it. 

“It’s been six months, Max,” you reminded him. You and Max had an ugly breakup, and you had been picking up your own pieces yourself. You two had been together for nearly a year until he started to act differently. Noticing that he was going home late, staying at the bars until the early hours of the morning, and being quite rude and dismissive towards you, it ended in a screaming match where he ended up spitting out rude comments at you--calling you ugly, useless, and boring. It also caused him to confess that he was cheating on you for half the time you were together with him, and you thought that was a lie he made up just to make you angry, but a month after the breakup, you had found out that was true because you had accidentally bumped into the girl he was cheating on you with. At the time, you couldn’t blame him because the girl was absolutely gorgeous and seemed a lot of fun, but now, you know your worth and you absolutely didn’t deserve that whatsoever. 

For six months, you hadn’t seen him, but he had been leaving you countless calls to the gym phone. However, Max wouldn’t dare to step foot in the gym ever again because Don had clearly threatened him when he saw Max on the street, pinning him up against the brick wall by his shirt and yelling in his face that if he ever came close to you or the gym ever again, he wouldn’t see the end of the day. 

Don would’ve lost his shit if he saw Max in front of you. 

“This is pointless. I was fine living my life for the past six months without you. In fact, I haven’t even thought about you until you showed up. Couldn’t you see I was doing just fine? Why can’t you just leave me alone?” Your tone was scornful, not wanting to be in front of him anymore but instead the lovely man inside. 

“I just assumed you wanted some sort of closure…” 

“If I wanted closure, then I would’ve called you. But I don’t need closure. I was doing okay-” 

“With who? That man inside the restaurant?” He interrupted, brows raised. His demeanour suddenly changed just because you had given him the slightest bit of attitude. Max went from soft, wanting forgiveness to the Max that you saw last--completely offensive, rude, and a dickhead.  

“Yeah, his name is Harry, by the way. I was doing okay until you showed up!” You rolled your eyes, making your way back inside to Harry, who was waiting for you inside. 

Of course, Max wasn’t done until he got the last word, so he yelled out, “You know, whatever you’re doing with him, he’s gonna leave you; just like how I left you.” You slowly turned around, heart aching as his words had definitely done something this time. “You think Harry cares about you Y/N? Think again, he’s gonna leave you and you’re gonna be alone. You’re nothing, Y/N--not without me, at least. You aren’t worth anything, and you had to take over your dad’s gym to feel like you are. Stop fooling yourself.” 

Your eyes watered, trying your hardest not to let them slip from your eyes. You had already felt weak tearing up in front of him, so you couldn’t imagine what he would think if you bawled your eyes out. Suddenly, you heard the bell above the restaurant door chime. You didn’t bother turning around, but you somehow knew that it was Harry who was behind you. 

“Everything alright here?” Harry asked warily, eyes pointed towards you. 

“Yeah, man. See you, Y/N.” With that, he walked away, hopefully for good. Harry knew everything wasn’t alright with how you’re ready to burst into tears. As much as he wanted to follow him, force an answer out of him as to why you were in such distress, he was more worried about you. 

Standing in front of you, Harry placed an arm on your shoulder, his other hand held the brown paper bag that had both of your leftovers as he didn’t want to eat without you. Your body was tense, not because of Harry’s touch but because of the words that had taken such an effect on you, and you were doing everything to not break down in the middle of the sidewalk. 

“Hey, you okay?” Harry asked softly, bending down slightly to look you in the eyes. Your eyes were pointed down at the ground, thinking that if you looked Harry in the eyes, you were going to break. 

“Uh, c-can you take me to the gym, please?” You asked once you fully gained the courage to speak, but your voice was shaky. 

Harry immediately nodded. “Yeah, yeah, of course. Let’s go.” He put his arm around your shoulders and you comfortably nuzzled into his side as he guided you to his car. 

The drive back was silent—the complete opposite from the drive to the restaurant. Instead of happiness radiating out of your bodies, the space felt gloomy. Harry’s mind had spiraled as he drove, thinking about what that man could have possibly said to you. He was torn between wanting to be angry, but he was more concerned for you because you had never been this silent before. 

Once Harry was in front of the gym, you immediately got out before he was able to turn off the car. Using your keys, you unlocked the front door, turning off the alarm system before throwing your purse, not caring where it landed and rushed towards the heavy bags. 

This was where you let all your anger out. The place where you screamed at the top of your lungs with no care on who might hear you. This was your safe space, and if someone was going to judge you for utilizing your safe space, then they didn’t belong there. 

You screamed, punched, and kicked the heavy bag with full force as your tears had streamed down your face. Your heart was beating painfully with every scream you forced out of your body. Your punches were solid, making the bag swing back and forth, but your knuckles were starting to redden because you didn’t wrap your hands. 

Harry quickly followed you, a frown plastered on his face as he watched you let your anger out all on the heavy bag. He let you do your thing, watching from the sidelines before he waited for the right moment to cut in. 

“You. Fucking. Stupid. Piece. Of. Shit,” you yelled out with every punch. You sniffled, continuing to punch the bag, eyes glossy from your endless amount of tears. 

The friction from the leather and your bare skin was rubbing against each other, cutting and peeling open your skin. Your hands had numbed the pain, so you carried on with your punches until Harry had wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into his chest and away from the heavy bag once he started to see redness and blood scattered onto your knuckles. You screamed, your body protesting, wanting to continue punching, but you knew you didn’t have any more energy. 

Turning around in his arms, your face was met with his chest, sobbing into his shirt. Harry’s hands soothed your back, comforting you as his heart ached from the sadness you radiated. Your bloody hands clutched his shirt as you cried, tears staining his shirt. Your whines and whimpers filled the empty gym, echoing back at you. 

Everything hurt—your heart, eyes, body, and your hands were now starting to sting. Harry held you tighter, carefully taking a seat onto the ground and bringing you down with him. You sat in between his legs and your head rested on his shoulder. 

After a moment, he felt you calm down and your body physically relaxed. Mindlessly, his hand brushed your hair back from your forehead, pressing a kiss to your skin. Harry hadn’t realized he did that until he pulled away and he hoped he hadn’t crossed a line by doing that. But when he kissed your forehead, you pulled him closer, burying your face into his neck. 

“Talk to me—tell me what you need, angel,” he said softly, wanting to help and be there for you. The nickname had completely slipped out as he’d been calling you that in his head. He’d never seen you break down at all, so this was very new to him. 

You shook your head, nickname going over your head. “Nothing. Just you.” 

Harry nodded his head, heart fluttering at your words as he held you tighter. He continued to soothe your hair and back as he heard you sigh deeply at the comfort. Looking down at your hands, he realized they were still bloody and cut up, and he knew that your cuts needed to be treated as soon as possible. 

“Can I take care of your hands? I’m still gonna be close, just wanna bandage you up.” You sniffled, nodding your head. Harry slightly smiled, carefully getting up before helping you up. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder, first asking you where the first aid kit was, and you two walked to one of the offices to get the kit before going to the restroom. “Wanna sit?” He asked, patting the cold counter. Nodding your head, you placed your hands on the counter, but he quickly stopped you, taking off his jacket for you to sit on. 

“Thank you,” you softly said to him gratefully before jumping to sit on the counter. 

Harry opened the box that contained multiple and different types of bandages, an instant cold pack, thermometer, antiseptic wipes, and scissors. Harry washed his hands well before grabbing the antiseptic wipe and ripping it open. He situated himself between your legs, gently grabbing your hand to rest on his. He looked up at you, first asking you if it was okay to start, and when you said yes, he slowly and carefully started to wipe the area around the cut. 

You watched him as he cleaned your cuts; he was so focused on wiping the blood that stained your skin and was careful not to press too hard because you were starting to bruise already. As you watched him, you felt immensely grateful. It’d been a while since you had a true friend that would help you with anything and take care of you. Your feelings for him had skyrocketed, heart pounding so loud you could feel it in your ears. 

“The guy at the restaurant was my ex-boyfriend, Max,” you suddenly said. Harry looked up at you to let you know that he was listening as he continued to clean your hands. “It was a bit of a messy breakup; he called me names, insulted me, and confessed that he was cheating on me. When I saw him at the restaurant, that was the first time since the breakup, and it was like I relived that day again.” 

“Did he say anything to you?” Harry asked, holding back his anger because he knew the answer,  Harry watched through the window the entire time and noticed your posture and demeanor change, causing Harry to quickly pay and rush outside just in case anything happened. 

“Y-Yeah.” Your voice croaked. “Said I didn’t amount to anything—that I wasn’t anything without him-”

“That’s bullshit, Y/N-”

“I’m so mad at myself.” Tears were forming in your eyes again as you looked down at your lap. Redness brimmed your eyelids as you sniffled. 

“What? Why?” Harry asked confusingly. 

You shook your head at yourself. “For years, I’ve been training—learning how to defend myself for when I need it. I was raised to have a strong mindset, to not take shit from anyone because Don told me not to. But when he came around, I didn't say a word, let alone move a muscle. I hate how he made me weak. I hate how I didn’t stand up for myself.” Your voice was shaky and your tears streamed down your face as you paused for a moment. “He told me that you were gonna leave me just like everyone else in my life did,” you added. 

Harry was seething, breathing in through his nose as his face hardened. He masked his anger because his priority was to comfort you, so he tried to let go of his anger for a moment. 

“Listen to me.” He placed his hands on the outside of your legs, bending down to look you in the eyes. Your glossy eyes looked at him, a small pout on your face. “You’re the strongest person I know, alright, angel?” This time, you heard the pet name loud and clear, making your heart do backflips. “You didn’t let him walk all over you, no, you’re much more mature than him to ever start something. He wanted to see you angry, and frustrated. He wanted to add fuel to the fire, and you didn’t give him the satisfaction. You aren’t weak at all. You’ve got a strong heart, and I’m sure that punch of yours to his nose would damage it for good.” 

You breathed out a chuckle at his last statement, nodding, knowing he was right. Harry smiled, dimples showing proudly as he wiped the tears that were falling from your eyes. Giving him a half-smile, you leaned forward, pressing your face against his collarbones. He stood up straight to wrap his arms around your back. You daringly placed a kiss onto the exposed skin that was peeking out from his shirt. Harry’s face warmed up at the touch that was so soft and delicate, yet felt like it was burning through his skin. You pulled away, looking up at him as you thanked him. 

Your eyes darted between his eyes and his lips as your face was just inches away from him. His face was delicate and his beauty shined over the darkness of the world. It was as if he didn’t seem real like you couldn’t believe someone so beautiful and breathtaking was standing right in front of you. You studied every curve, movement, and freckle on his face as they all very well defined him, heightening your admiration with every look of his perfections and imperfections. 

Harry blushed under your stare, clearing his throat as he felt nervous. He pulled his face away a tad bit, offering you a small smile. “Of course. Always gonna be here for you. Now, let me just finish cleaning your hands before taking you home.” 

You nodded, letting him finish with his task. His hands were gentle as he wrapped the bandage around your hand. Your heart was filled with so much admiration and gratitude that you simply wouldn’t know what to do if Harry weren’t there today. The growing feelings had taken over your heart and mind that you were a bit scared, but nonetheless, you let them take over. 

Harry sat at the bar next to Benny, nursing a beer he had ordered ten minutes ago. It had been a while since they hung out together, but that was because Benny was trying to get his wife pregnant, so when Marianne calls, they spent their time baby-making. The other reason was that Harry was spending most of his time with you, which he loved every minute of. 

“So, a little bird told me that you’ve been going to the gym on Saturdays now,” Benny mentioned, a hint of tease in his tone. 

Harry chuckled. “Really? And who told you that?” He asked, taking a sip of his beer. 

“Starts with a D and ends with an N,” Benny laughed, giving you the obvious answer. 

“Well, I’ve been going in on Saturdays because Don always schedules our training sessions on Saturdays. Nothing else,” he slightly lied. After his first training day with Don, Harry told Don that he wanted to continue training with him because he gets a good workout with him rather than by himself, hitting the heavy bag or speed bag, so Don always scheduled for Saturdays since those were the easiest days. 

But other than the training sessions, he also got to see you on Saturdays, which he really enjoyed because sometimes after his workout, you two would grab a bite to eat or plan to hang out later that day. He liked it, he liked you. 

“Hmm, interesting. It doesn’t have to do with a particular trainer who also happens to own the gym?” Benny raised his brows. 

“Not really into Don, to be honest,” Harry joked, bouncing around Benny’s question. They both laughed, slamming their hand on the bar top. 

“Really, though. I’m happy for you. You’ve been in such a happier mood, and that’s all I want—is for you to be happy. She’s doing a great job,” Benny said honestly. Seeing his friend happy after everything he’s been through had lifted a certain weight off of his shoulders, and it seemed like he didn’t need to worry about Harry. 

Harry simply nodded, smiling as words weren’t necessary. He always felt like Benny was always concerned about him, and although he appreciated him being worried, he didn’t need to anymore because Harry was finally feeling much happier than he was before. 

“There you are.” A voice was suddenly heard next to Harry along with a hand on his shoulder. Harry tensed up, and he hadn’t in a while, but he knew that wasn’t your voice nor was it your touch. Harry turned his head to the side to find Lizette sitting on the stool next to him, giving him a smug smile. He didn’t say anything but look at Benny, and saw his eyes narrow, confused as to why Lizette was here. “I’ve been calling your home and paging you. Why haven’t you been answering me?” She pouted. 

Harry knew that pout all too well. She used it to trick you into saying yes to her and getting what she wanted, but Harry was stronger than that now; he knew how to hold his ground. 

He hadn’t seen Lizette ever since the week before he joined Don’s Box. With all of his time spent with you, he hadn’t really thought about Lizette, if he’s being honest. You had fully taken every inch and space of his mind that it was maximum capacity, but he still found a way to make space from the invading thoughts of you. 

“Just been…busy, Lizette, that’s all,” he said, not giving her his full attention as he looked at his bottle. 

“Too busy for me?” 

“Yeah, something like that.” He didn’t want to outright be rude to her because naturally, Harry was a kind and thoughtful man, so he kept his harsh thoughts to himself. 

She inched closer to Harry, close enough to where her mouth was against his ear as she whispered, “Well, since I so happened to run into you, how about we go back to yours?”

Harry took a deep breath. He felt like he was his old self again—making impulsive and not so thought out decisions that end up fucking him and his emotions over in the future. Being with Lizette was something, and it helped make him feel a little less lonely, even though she immediately left right after she got what she wanted. 

But Harry hadn’t felt lonely at the moment and in months. He had his best friend next to him, having a drink, and he had you. He wasn’t lonely at all. So, why was he getting off the stool and putting his coat on before closing his tab for the night? 

Benny’s eyes widened, looking at Harry as if he was asking what the actual fuck was he doing. Harry simply shrugged, patting his friend on the back before following Lizette out of the bar. The air was cold, but it wasn’t a delightful cold that he wanted to be in. It almost seemed kind of eerie as the gray clouds hovered over them. 

Lizette hugged Harry’s arm. “I’m glad you agreed.” She leaned up to kiss his cheek, but he immediately pulled away, taking his arm out of her hold. 

“You should go home,” he told her. Her mouth opened, but nothing came out as she was confused. “Get a ride home. I’m not taking you home nor am I going with you. I don’t want to do this anymore, Lizette.” 

“But you came with me-”

“That didn’t mean I was saying yes to your offer. I came out here with you to get you off of me and not embarrass me in front of my friend and the entire bar.” Harry’s voice was stern as he crossed his arms. “I know you’ve never really cared about me, so please just do me a favor and leave. I’m happier now-”

“You’re happier? With some other girl, huh?” Harry nodded and Lizette rolled her eyes, expression annoyed as she was beginning to get angry and defensive. “You think she cares? Guess what, Harry, she doesn’t. She’s gonna leave you just like your mom left you, your ex-girlfriend left you. Remember when she fucked your best friend in college? That she left you to be with him? And look at them now, they’re married! They don’t give a single fuck about you! What makes you think that this girl you’re seeing does?” 

Lizette had definitely hit a nerve. Harry had gone four years without hearing the story on how his ex left him for one of his friends from uni. The situation was quite sad, and it left Harry in pieces. Not to mention, Lizette was his ex’s best friend and she somehow seduced him into regularly having sex with her, which wasn’t entirely her fault because Harry was lonely and needed to feel something to fill the void of his loneliness. 

“Don’t think you’re so easy to love, Harry. It takes a lot of effort to do that, especially with you. You’re gonna continue being scared and closed off, and people are gonna continue to run away-”

“Harry?” Lizette was suddenly interrupted by you. You were walking to the bar because Benny had invited you, thinking that it would’ve been a nice surprise for Harry and to hang out with just the three of you. But you had seen Harry and some woman on the street and his face looked angry. “Uh, hi.” 

You turned towards the unknown woman as she looked you up and down before turning towards Harry, raising her brows as she figured out who you were and who Harry had been spending so much time with. 

Harry completely blocked you out, his attention was towards the statements Lizette had made. He had been doing so much better, and all of a sudden the relapse hit him ten times harder, like his accomplishment of being okay with himself completely disappeared. 

 Was he that hard to love? He knew that he pushed people away, that’s for sure, but he didn’t realize that it was difficult to love him. Harry then thought about the people that had left him because they didn’t love him enough to stay. His ex left him for his friend, it seemed like his mum had forgotten about him, and soon enough, Benny was gonna get tired of him and so were you. 

“And you are?” You asked, scowling at the woman in front of you. Lizette smirked, seeing as there was an opportunity right in front of her. She didn’t find you 

intimidating whatsoever. 

“Oh, guess Harry didn’t tell you, but we’ve been sleeping with each other for years. Friends with benefits, if you will,” Lizette answered with some sass and a snarl to her tone as she watched your expression turn into a hurtful one. 

Your face had softened as your eyes welled up with tears, but you didn’t dare let them fall. You looked at Harry and it seemed like he was in his head, but you had no clue he was ‘seeing someone.’ It felt like you had been cheated on, even though going out as friends didn’t mean anything to a fuck buddy. All of the moments you spent with him—the laughs, storytelling, training, and tension-filled moments had connected you both to one another. It made you feel special that you were seeing a side of Harry that no one else had, but you were wrong. 

“Guess you’re the new girl he’s seeing?” 

“What’s it to you?” Your brows knitted. 

Lizette shrugged. “Nothing. Just know that Harry’s difficult and loveless. So, just get out while you can.” She reached over to touch your shoulder, but you quickly stepped back before she could. She was talking as if Harry wasn’t right next to you two, and if this was a ‘women looking out for women’ type of situation, you weren’t going to accept it because she outright just insulted Harry. 

You were livid as your eyes turned dark, stepping closer to her. “Stay away from him, or I swear to god-”

“Or what? What are you gonna do?” Lizette challenged, stepping closer. She was slightly taller than you since she wore four-inch leather boots.

“Wanna find out? Next time I see you with him or hear you talk shit about him again, then you’ll find out because I can guarantee you’ll never see the light of day.” You held eye contact with her as she looked at you with such fierce emotion. 

“Cute. Harry’s got a little bodyguard,” she scoffed, stepping back. “I should go,” Lizette suddenly said, breaking you out of your heartbreaking thoughts. “I’ll call you,” she told Harry, despite what you had just said. It seemed like he wasn’t even listening as his blank stare was trained onto the ground. She walked away, her heels clicking against the cement. The satisfaction she felt right now felt good, knowing her words had definitely affected you both. 

When Lizette was far enough, you turned back towards Harry. This time, he was looking at you in a confused state, and it didn’t seem like him. 

“I-I didn’t know you were seeing someone-”

“You should go…” he said straightforwardly. You raised your brows as you were taken back. 

“I’m sorry?” 

“You should leave. For good. Get out of my life while you can. I promise I won’t get mad.” His voice cracked and was shaky. He couldn’t even look you in the eye while he was talking because he knew that would break his heart even more, especially if you were to actually leave for good. The negative thoughts had taken over, and this was what he did—pushing people away and giving them a way out before they realized that Harry wasn’t a lovable or worthy enough person to stay around for. 

“What makes you think I’m going anywhere?” You questioned confusingly. You wondered if he even thought about the conversation you two had a few moments ago when you had told him that you were staying for good. 

“They all do, anyway. They all leave and they never come back.” His voice was starting to raise slightly, frustration and anger pouring out of his veins as his eyes were starting to tear up. A pout remained on your face as you watched the distress never leave his angelic face. “Just please go.”

“I’m not going anywhere-”

“Why won’t you-”

“Because I care! Why don’t you get that?” You raised your voice, not too loud to startle him, but enough to convey your emotions and frustrations to him. 

“Because you’re going to eventually! You’re gonna leave and use me and never love me. I’m used to it, so you could go now!” Harry was starting to cry, light sobs were coming out of his mouth as he was trying to hold them back. You took a step forward, wanting to comfort him as your heart broke at the sight, but he stepped back, not wanting your touch. 

Your heart sank when he stepped back away from you because he had never done that before. You two were always comfortable with one another that both of your touches had felt like security. Your tears had streamed down your face, quickly wiping them. 

“Harry, I’m not gonna leave…” 

“It’s fine. You don’t know what it’s like for someone to leave and never come back. You don’t know what it’s like to feel completely loveless that someone physically had to get out of your life and not want to be in it anymore. You don’t know what it’s like!” He spoke firmly as he cried, tugging his curly locks in frustration. 

“I don’t know what it’s like?” You spoke loudly, and Harry looked up at you. “I know exactly what it’s like because my own mother left me when I was eleven-years-old, and I have no idea why!” You vented, sniffling. “You don’t think I know what it’s like to constantly wonder what you’re doing wrong because the people that were supposed to be there for you completely vanished? Because I do! I know that feeling quite well. So, don’t tell me I don’t know shit because it seems like we’re in the same boat.” 

Harry was speechless. Sure, you two had been close and had talked about your lives and childhood, but this was something that you two had to dig deep for because it wasn’t something you regularly spoke about nor did you tell new people that you’d just met. 

“I-I’m sorry I had no idea…” 

“You couldn’t have had any idea, Harry. But just know that that day my mom left me still confuses me. The look on my dad’s face when he told me that mom left still haunts me. The crying I did since I was eleven hurts me because she didn’t love me enough to stay.” 

“Y/N…” 

“It’s fine, I get it. I know we’ve known each other for only a few months, but I did not expect this from you, especially because of all that we’d talked about. I’d say I’m the newest person in your life but I’m also the closest, besides Benny. So, don’t shut me out.” Your heart was beating through your chest and all of your emotions began to pile up like they were leaves, falling from the branches of the trees. 

Harry looked defeated, knowing that you were right. He sniffled, not knowing what else to say because all he felt was a painful feeling in his chest since Lizette had gone up to him at the bar. 

When he didn’t say anything, you just nodded, knowing that it was best to give him some space so he could realize that you were here for him and that you weren’t going anywhere. 

“Call me when you wanna talk…” you told him before turning around. Harry watched you—he knew that he should go after you, not be scared and let you in, perhaps tell you that he’s practically in love with you, but he doesn’t move, feet glued to the ground. 

When you were only a few feet away, you turned back around, knowing that you hadn’t gotten your final words out yet. Harry looked up when he heard footsteps approaching him. 

“Fuck whatever people say to you; trying to degrade and bring you down because whatever they say, it’s not true. I will always be there to defend you, Harry. Don’t think I won’t be because I will always be on your side.” You paused for a moment. Your heart was fully opening and was beginning to be vulnerable. Trying not to let it overwhelm you, you continued. “Don’t think you’re not easy to love because you are. You’re extremely easy to love, y’know that? I would know because…I love you. And that’s crazy to say because we’ve only known each other for a short period of time, but I can’t help what I feel. So, there you go.” 

Before Harry was able to say anything, you walked away, and he could hear you sniffling and crying. Harry’s mouth was ajar, completely speechless and shocked, but his heart fluttered as he took in your words. You really loved him, he thought. No one had said those words and really meant them or they hadn’t felt real to him when he heard them, so the shock that he felt was new. 

You were far enough where Harry couldn’t see you. He hadn’t even moved an inch, and he knew that later on, he was going to be very disappointed in himself for not chasing you down and telling you that he loved you too. But for now, he needed to take it all in and hope that when he did tell you, it wouldn’t be too late. 

Taking a deep breath, you walked inside to your apartment, sniffling as you went straight to the bathroom to take a long and hot shower. Before you left your place to go to the bar, you had been contemplating your appearance because you wanted to look good. Nerves were all over your body as you were getting ready, and you sulked at how the events had completely turned tonight around. 

When you were out of the shower and changed, ready to get into bed despite the night only being nine in the evening, your pager beeped. Picking it up off the bedside table, the message was sent from Harry, reading ‘143.’ You raised your brows, reading it again and reading it once more. Your heart was pounding, studying the numbers to make sure you read them right. The simple code for ‘I love you’ was printed on your pager and you wanted to scream. 

Before you could actually scream, there was a knock on your door. You walked quickly, opening it as Harry was standing behind it, holding his pager out as he smiled softly at you. You had just finished crying in the shower, so your eyes were red and a tad bit swollen, but you were close to crying again because of how overwhelmed you felt. 

“Did you mean it?” You asked hesitantly, holding your pager up. 

“Of course I do. Did you mean it?” He retaliated back, wondering if you meant your three words as well. 

“Of course I mean it, Harry. Why wouldn’t I?” You asked, wiping the tear that had slipped down your face. 

“Because I love you. I love you so fuckin’ much that it hurts,” he claimed in one breath, feeling the tension and weight that he held in his shoulders release. “You’re everything to me, and you make my world less frightening. I just see your pretty smile and my day completely turns into a great one. I don’t wanna waste a day not telling you that now, and it feels pretty damn good to say it.”

You slightly nodded until you remembered one of your concerns earlier. “What about Lizette?” 

“Lizette was someone I used to sleep with. I haven’t seen her nor slept with her in months—before I even met you, I promise. And I’m sorry for assuming that you didn’t know what it felt like for someone to leave and that you had to tell me under those circumstances. But just know, that I’m not gonna leave, unless you tell me to, that is.” Every bit of him was opening up and he wasn’t hiding away. He was being completely vulnerable and it had scared him a bit, but when his words came out, he felt himself get better. 

You looked at him through your glassy eyes, vision blurred for a moment until you adjusted them and clearly saw the gorgeous man in front of you. His eyes were filled with tears as well, and you thought, how could someone still look so pretty while they cried? But that was Harry for you; someone who was genuinely beautiful no matter what. Someone who had a heart of gold and a flashing smile that made your heart swoon and knees weak. 

You simply reached your hand out and Harry walked towards you, into your apartment as he came close to your face as your bodies were pressed up against one another. The back of his fingertips gently brushed the side of your face, admiring the beauty that stood before him as he opened his heart up completely, not wanting to go another day without saying those three words back to you. 

The corners of your lips turned up and your tears were replaced by happy ones. You had walked away from Harry after you said I love you because he was looking at you like he had seen a ghost, not a friendly one, but more of a scary one. So, hearing those words were just music to your ears. 

“You mean that? That you love me?” You wanted to hear it again and again and again. 

“Ever word. I love you, angel,” he repeated, adding your nickname. He pressed his forehead against yours, inches away from your lips. 

“Never stop calling me that,” you instructed him, smiling. The first time he had said it, you came to the conclusion that you absolutely loved hearing that name come out of his mouth, especially if it was specifically for you. 

“Only if you never stop telling me that you love me,” he slightly smirked, dimples poking out. He was so immensely happy that his heart could burst just because of the love that he felt for you. 

You giggled. “I love you, baby-” 

“I, uh, wait. Do you mind…not calling me that?” He hesitated, and you raised your brows confused. “Someone else called me that, and I just don’t like hearing it. Never have since it came out of her mouth,” he explained shyly. 

A sudden realization came to your face as you realized that Lizette probably called him that. “Okay. I won’t call you that, ever…darling.” Harry’s lips began to slowly turn up, already liking that name so much better than the other one. He hugged you; and you smiled, closing and opening your eyes to make sure you weren’t dreaming. Your arms snaked around Harry’s waist as he cradled your delicate face in his hands. 

“Never stop calling me that,” he repeated your words as you two smiled and laughed until your jaws started hurting. 

His eyes flickered down to your lips and back up to your eyes. You pursed your lips, blushing as you watched his eyes glance back up and down. You rubbed the tip of your nose against his, pulling him closer; hearts beating in sync as butterflies filled your stomach. 

He brushed his lips against yours before fully connecting them, feeling every spark and shiver that traveled down his spine. You smiled into the kiss as the softness of his lips moved and molded against yours, feeling completely in bliss. The way his lips slotted perfectly with yours made you saturated and dizzy off of his love and touch. Butterflies were still in your stomach, but they were calm like they had been fluttering around for this moment, his touch, in order to relax. 

Pulling back, he smiled down at you, eyes love-struck, before giving you another kiss, and pulling away and kissing you again once more. 

“Kissing you is my new favorite thing,” he stated, drunk off kisses. You breathed out a giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck as you breathed in his scent. You felt his breath against your neck, feeling completely happy and content in each other’s arms. 

There was no fear in the air; just the two of you with open hearts and arms, welcoming in the new and profound feeling that you both took in, knowing that it’s going to change everything for the better. 

You pulled him inside and Harry kicked the door closed with his foot. His arms were holding you tight as you walked back to your bedroom. Opening your mouth slightly, Harry took the chance to meet your tongue with his, swiveling and tasting each other causing a shiver to run down your spine. 

You pulled back when Harry laid down on the bed, taking in the gushy feeling you had as you smiled. 

“Want you,” you simply stated. 

“You have me, angel.” 

“I know, but I want you. Need you,” your eyes pleaded for his touch, to feel him inside of you, for him to make you feel good. You desperately craved for his hands on all of you, his mouth kissing every inch of your skin, and his love passionately pouring out of his veins. 

Harry nodded, smiling. “Need you too. Need you forever,” he said, connecting your lips again as he hovered over you. 

You two kissed for a while, giggling against each other’s lips and having his weight on top of you as your hands roamed his back. You bucked your hips into his, feeling the hard-on that was growing in his pants, which made Harry grind into your center, moaning softly into your mouth. 

“Please do something,” you said, and he nodded, getting off of you before taking his jacket and shirt off swiftly. His tattoos were showcased in front of you and all you wanted to do was kiss every single one of them. “You’re beautiful, Harry,” you complimented, and he blushed, a soft ‘thank you’ came out of his mouth. Next was his pants, and before he was able to take his briefs off, you stopped him, telling him that you wanted to do it. 

You got off the bed, switching positions with him as you were now standing up as Harry laid down on the bed. You smiled, eyes glancing all around his body. He suddenly felt shy and intimidated under your stare, but he knew he had no reason to be because you were simply admiring him. This time around when it came to physically be vulnerable with someone, he knew he didn’t have to worry anymore when it came to you. 

You took off your lilac nightgown, exposing your body to Harry’s eyes. Your nipples had hardened due to the exposure to the cold. His eyes glimmered as he gazed at your stunning and beautiful body. Every curve and inch was something he tried to remember, and he was quite speechless at the sight. He reached out, gently grabbing your hips as he roamed his hands up your body and to your breasts, grabbing both in each of his hands. 

He looked up at you and you smiled down at him as he placed his mouth on your left pebbled nipple, sucking and licking it as his hand fondled with the other. You laced your fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp as he did so, switching over to your right nipple. 

Harry pulled away, looking at you. “You’re an actual angel. You’re so beautiful.” 

“Harry…” you blushed. 

“You are, angel. So beautiful. Can’t believe I get to see you like this.” He kissed the valley of your breasts and down your stomach before getting up and pushing you down onto the bed with ease. He settled in between your legs, arms hooked under your thighs. 

Continuing kissing down your stomach, he reached the hem of your underwear, looking up at you before asking, “Can I take these off? Wanna make you feel good—the same way you always make me feel good.” 

“Please. Take them off. Wanna feel your mouth on me,” you pleaded as your arousal heightened. You wrapped your legs around his back, eagerly pulling his head towards your center, making Harry let out a chuckle. 

“Easy, angel. Not going anywhere.” Harry kissed your stomach once more before pulling off your beige underwear. You were glistening below him; you made a complete mess in your panties. “Fuck, you’re so wet. This all for me?” 

“Mhm. All for you, Harry, please,” you whispered impatiently. Harry’s dirty talk had only increased your need for him as it was quite surprising to see this side of him since he was more on the shy and reserved side outside, but nonetheless, you loved both sides—you loved him. 

Harry leaned down, pressing multiple kisses to your inner thighs, nibbling on the skin gently. You bucked your hips as he trailed his kisses towards your pussy that was eagerly waiting to be touched and licked. When he got there, he pressed a kiss to your clit before kitten-licking your sensitive button, making you softly moan. 

His tongue licked into the entrance of your pussy, gathering your arousal on the tip of his tongue to lubricate your clit even more. 

“Fuck,” you groaned as your hands found his curly locks, tugging at them gently. 

“You could do that harder, I don’t mind it,” Harry told you before going back to eating you out. You pulled harder and Harry deeply groaned against you, sending vibrations up your body. 

His hands wandered around your body, feeling the softness of your skin against his hands. Your skin had formed goosebumps due to his touch, and Harry smoothed out your skin so you were warm. He sucked on your clit quite harshly, earning a moan of his name from your lips as he grabbed both of your tits in his hands, squeezing them. 

You placed your hands on top of his, squeezing them with him, and Harry almost came at the sight of that. There you were, moaning his name out, getting your pussy eaten, and squeezing your tits on top of his hands. A sight he truly was lucky enough to see. 

Harry pulled one hand away to rub your clit as he tongued around your wet hole before tongue fucking you. He rubbed your clit at a moderate speed, enough for you to thrust your hips off the bed. Harry pulled his other hand that was still on one of your breasts away to pin your hips down onto the bed. 

“Stay still for me, angel,” he instructed, voice deep that made you even wetter. “You taste so good. Could eat you out all day.” 

“Harry…” you trailed, whining desperately for your release. “W-Wanna…cum…need to.” Your sentences were broken and Harry thought that was a good sign, knowing that he was doing so well you couldn’t form a proper sentence. 

“Tell me what you need. Let me know, so I can get you there.” 

“F-Fingers,” you told him, and he immediately brought his fingers to your clit, rubbing it before inserting two fingers inside your pussy. He thrust slowly, curling his fingers up to feel your walls.

He felt you pulsing around him as your legs were wrapped tightly around his back as you screamed his name over and over again. 

“C’mon, love. Give me one,” he encouraged, thrusting his fingers a bit faster. 

Once he hit the spot over and over again, you saw stars. Your vision had gone white for a few seconds, and you felt dizzy. The pleasure that ran through your body was overwhelming in the best way possible and you choked out a few sobs. It had hit you like a brick that you saw coming, but you were still surprised and shocked by the impact. 

Your hands held Harry’s hair tight that he thought for a moment that you might actually rip it off. Harry rubbed your pussy as you came down from your high, licking your orgasm that was seeping through your cunt, taking every drop of it. He looked up to see your head thrown back, chest heaving, and a vein that was bulging against your skin. He kissed your thighs while his other hand trailed across your body. 

When you finally were able to catch your breath, Harry kissed up your body, leaving the softest and loving kisses to your skin as you were quite sensitive. You grabbed his face, bringing his lips to yours as you immediately stuck your tongue in his mouth, swirling it with his to taste yourself on him—a mixture of his taste and your orgasm all on his tongue had made you wetter. 

Harry was grinding himself against your leg, trying to relieve some pressure. 

“Want you,” you told him once he pulled away, looking at him intently. 

“You sure?” 

“Absolutely. Please? Only if you want to-”

“I definitely want to. Just wanna make sure you were sure,” he breathed out a chuckle. 

“Course I want to.” There was a bit of silence between you two as you were simply just admiring him as he hovered over you. “Are you gonna fuck me, Harry?” You broke the silence, and Harry broke out of his trance, shyly giggling before getting off the bed. 

He peeled away his briefs, cock standing straight up from the slight painful restraint. He was big—girth and length wise, and you felt your mouth salivating from just looking at him. He got back on the bed, in between your legs as he sat on his knees. Spitting on his hand, he grabbed a hold of his dick, stroking it to relieve the pressure. The view was beautiful in every single way possible, and you didn’t dare to bat an eye because you didn’t want to miss one second of it. 

Wanting to take over for him, you reached forward, replacing his hand with yours as you slowly stroked his cock for him. Harry had a smug smile on his face but soon changed into a face of pure pleasure as your hand worked against him. His mouth was open as he let out a soft moan, looking down at your eyes as you were looking up, completely loving his reaction to your touch. 

“You’re so pretty, Harry,” you complimented as you continued to touch him. Your other hand reached forward to fondle with his balls, rolling them into your hand as Harry whimpered. “Love seeing you like this. Most gorgeous man I’ve seen in my life.” 

“Please, angel, you’re being too nice…” he managed to groan out, hands gripping your thighs. 

“But it’s true. Look so pretty when you’re like this, but also when you’re hitting the heavy bags. When we go out to eat and you mindlessly drink your entire drink while waiting for the food. But I think you’ll look extra pretty than you already are if you cum.” Your words of declaration were getting him on the edge as you stroke him. The way your voice slightly changed as you looked up at him with the most innocent eyes made him thrust into your hand, gripping the flesh of your skin as he threw his head back. 

“You think so?” 

“Mhm. Gonna be so pretty when you cum all over my body, my tits. Can you do that? For me, can you do that? Please?” You were completely begging for it, but even with all the begging, he knew that you had all the control right now. 

Your feet rubbed his calves up and down, and it was the simplest touch, but it heightened Harry’s need to let go. 

“Wanna cum for you, yeah.” His breaths were heavy and harsh as your touch was focused on his tip, wrapping your delicate hands around the head where he was most sensitive. 

Harry’s moans stuttered as a series of profanities slipped from his lips, spilling onto your stomach and breasts. You smiled to yourself as you studied his face when he came undone; his mouth was open, occasionally biting his lip, and eyes shut closed as his head was thrown back—he was the most beautiful person you’d ever seen, and the fact that you got to see him like this was an honor. 

When he came down from his high, he slowly opened his eyes, meeting yours, staring right at him. You smirked, body covered in his orgasm, and he thought that was a picture worth taking. You were gorgeous covered in his pleasure that you caused, and you seemed to love it too since you made no effort to wipe it off. 

Boldly, he leaned down, dragging his tongue from your stomach to your tit, spending the most time on your breasts as he nibbled and licked your nipples, collecting his orgasm from your skin and held it on the tip of his tongue until he reached your mouth. You willingly opened your mouth as his tongue delved right in, feeding you his cum. 

You two passionately kissed, tasting him ever so sensually. You moaned into his mouth, thinking about how the sight of Harry licking his orgasm off of your body was the sexiest thing you’d ever seen. With your hips jerking up, you felt yourself getting wet again and in need to release once more. 

You whimpered, pulling away. “Please. Need you so bad.” Harry nodded, agreeing. 

“Condom?” He asked, and you immediately reached over to your bedside table, ripping open the condom before rolling it onto his dick that was still hard. 

Harry curled in his lips, watching you. You gave him a few extra strokes for good measure, earning a soft moan from his mouth. He took his length in his hand, running the tip up and down your slit, collecting your arousal and lubricating his cock. He gave you one last look and you nodded before he slowly pushed in, indulging in your wetness and softness. 

A moan came out of both of your mouths, feeling completely full and warm for one another with the stretch Harry had on you. He planted his elbows on both sides of you, holding himself up over you as he slowly began to thrust. 

“Fuck,” he groaned. “Feel so good for me.” He placed a kiss on your lips as he whispered. He found a rhythm as he started to move faster, rocking his hips against yours, making you moan. 

It was a feeling like no other, and it was the amount of love you two had for one another that made this experience much more special. Love was practically oozing out of both of your veins, filling the room to its maximum capacity as the both of you moaned out in pleasure. 

You wrapped your legs around his waist and your arms looped around his back, hugging him closer to you as if he couldn’t get closer. You whined into his ear, the sounds of your pleasure were music to his eyes, sending a shiver down his body, making him jerk. But that jolt had hit your g-spot, and you screamed out in ecstasy. 

“Right there. Keep doing that. Keep fucking me,” you managed to say. Harry maintained his pace, going deeper, and fucking you into oblivion as you kept crying and screaming his name out. 

Harry’s lips attached to your neck, nibbling and licking your skin, leaving a few decent size love bites that he was sure to admire when they’d fully formed. Your nails had raked down his back, leaving a burning but pleasurable sting down his skin, letting him know that he was doing an amazing job. 

“You like that?” He groaned into your ear, leaving chills rising onto your skin. 

“Mhm. Just like that. Don’t stop. I-I’m so close.” You threw your head back into the pillows, and Harry took the opportunity to attack your exposed neck with kisses again. Your hands found Harry’s hair, tugging at his curls as he kissed you. That encouraged him to fuck you harder and faster, repeatedly hitting your special spot. “O-Oh…” 

“Come on, angel love. Cum for me, please. Wanna see you make a mess around me,” he encouraged you. 

With a few more thrusts, you were done. You had fully and completely released around him as your orgasm hit you like a ton of bricks. Your vision had gone white for a few seconds, head dizzy, and your breaths were caught in your throat as your hips involuntarily jolted, meeting his thrusts that were fucking you through your high. 

Harry started to thrust sloppily, burying his face in your neck as he spilled into the condom. His hot breath was against your skin as he started to slow down, coming down from his orgasm. 

The room was silent as the only sounds present were the heavy breaths and the post-orgasmic whimpers coming from your mouth as you two held one another. Your nails gently scratched down his back, contrasting to the desperate and needy scratches that you had given him just a few minutes ago. 

Harry lifted his head up, meeting your eyes before connecting his lips against yours, tongue meeting first before your lips moved in sync so passionately and lovingly that you both unspokenly agreed to never taste another pair of lips again. 

“I love you so much,” Harry said, resting his chin on your chest. 

You smiled down at him, eyes gleaming as you looked at your love, your entire heart, the man that had stolen your breath and heart just by one look. 

“And I love you too.” 

Waking up to the warmth of the body next to you was your favorite thing in the morning—had been for six months now. The sight next to you was something you wouldn’t get used to as you always found yourself feeling so lucky every single time you woke up next to him. 

But a pout formed onto your face when you saw that the space next to you was empty. The crinkled yellow sheets were left, missing a certain person that you had been excited to see this morning since you closed your eyes the night prior. 

Turning over to your bedside table, you grabbed your pager, seeing if you had any messages, and one specifically stood out to you, making you sleepily smile at your pager. 

“Goodmorning, angel,” Harry greeted as he stood in the doorway of your bedroom. He was wearing a gray sweatsuit, holding a white paper bag in one hand and a smoothie tray, that held two smoothies, in the other hand with a loving smile plastered on his face, making his dimples poke out. 

“Mm. Hi, darling.” Your arms reached forward, gesturing him to come to you, and he gladly did, situating himself on your body as you wrapped your arms around him. 

You two stayed like that for a moment, basking in the presence and gratitude of one another. It was nice until your stomach started growling, making Harry chuckle. 

“C’mon, gotta feed my girl before we head to the gym.” He got off of you, helping you up and out of the bed before helping you make the bed. He walked over to the kitchen before you went to the restroom, and when you walked out, Harry had your breakfast set on a plate. 

You two made light conversation, mostly enjoying the silence and tastiness of the food before you got ready to go to the gym. 

When you walked into Don’s Box, you were immediately greeted by a few of the members, giving you high fives, as well as saying hi to Harry. The entire gym had found out you two were together when they started to notice Harry coming into the gym almost every day and staying until the gym closed, so a few people had their speculations. Don was certain you two would get together from the very beginning, and he had told you that the only reason he was trying to act intimidating when Harry first walked in was that he sensed that something would happen, and he was right, something did happen. 

Benny was ecstatic; jokingly telling Harry that he could now spend time with his wife since you had taken all of Harry’s time now, which Benny earned a push from Harry towards the ropes of the ring. Benny’s wife was also pregnant and wanted Harry to be the godfather, which Harry immediately took on that responsibility and role. But that also meant since you and Harry were planning on staying together for the long run, you were becoming a godmother as well, which you were very excited about. 

You climbed up into the ring as Harry followed. You had a day off, and no one needed your attention other than Harry, so you helped him put on his gloves after you wrapped his hands in tape, and you put on your mitts, making sure they were tight before clapping the mitts together—Harry punched his gloves together, making sure they were comfortable. 

You raised your brows at him teasingly. “Ready, darling?” 

“Ready as always, my angel,” he responded, and you smirked. 

“Give me a good one. Give me 1.” 

talk to me about your favorite moments, your thoughts and feelings about this pls! thank you for reading <3