#Literally punching the air as we speak I hate this fic so much

[korissideblog]

[slams my guitar into the stage bc im past my teen years and yet still full of unbridled teenage rage]

so this ending is dumb and stupid and I hate it 😭 pretty much the plan for this fic was just a bunch if monologuing, and I didn’t know how I was gonna end it till I was. ending it.

ok, groveling aside, fic uses characters labled in part 1. I’m very sleepy. Here’s part 2 of

The Hedonist

“Jetsam Kisa?”

“Yes.” Aito shuttered, as if a sudden cool wind had blown through the room. “He was my best friend… and… well look at me now.”

Normally when this was said by someone draped in silk and gold, it was supposed to be a positive thing, but the pain in Aito’s face told the real weight of it all. How heavy the luxury really was.

“I’m sorry.”

“No need to be.” Aito mumbled, quickly waving off the comforting words. “You haven't done anything to cause it.”

“I'm not sorry for something done wrong, I’m sorry that I can’t help you through it.” Sakura said, her voice lowering as she explained herself, frowning a bit as Aito finally removed his hand from her’s.

“Again, no need.” Aito repeated, stepping back from the settee. “Despite appearances, I’m fairly settled in it. Despite… everything...” she said, gesturing vaguely. “I know who I am. And who I am is a villain.” a small smirk tugged at Aito’s lips as Sakura handed the book back. “I’d even go to say I'm your best villain.”

“I’m not one to disagree, pet, but may I ask,” Sakura continued, watching Aito over her shoulder. “Why would you label yourself so?”

“Simple.” Aito chuckled, walking the book back to the shelf it belonged to. “Given my background, I know more about any hero we encounter than anyone else.”

Sakura squinted as Aito slipped the book back into the empty spot. “Given your background?” she repeated.

“As a past student of UA, I’d say I know most of the heroes out there- and their abilities- fairly intimately.” Aito hummed, pleased with the shocked face Sakura made when he turned to face her.

“Checkmate… you have a long leash- I let you associate with who you please, I let you go and come from this place as you wish, you have more say in my plans than I afford to many- but… I hope you understand my… insecurity in this.” she said, lowering her voice as if Aito’s education was something to be kept secret. “The implications alone are dizzying.”

“I know, but believe me, Sakura san.” Aito said, his face falling back into its usual stoic expression. “I buried my sympathies for my classmates a long time ago.” Sakura still felt a tinge of nervousness, but it melted away as Aito returned to her side. “I do what I want now, without regard for good or bad. Interesting how I seemed to fall right in line with people like you.” he hummed hurmously, patting Sakura’s shoulder in a rare display of affection.

“I’d say.” Sakura laughed as Aito quickly removed his hand. “Interesting though, that people’s suffering is what you want.” she mentioned, tapping her cheek as if considering it. “Masochist.”

“The word you’re looking for is sadist.” Aito corrected her. “The correct word is schadenfreude- but I prefer hedonist.” Aito noticed Skaura’s eyebrow raise minutely, as if asking a silent question. “Hedonism being the philosophy of pleasure. Though not a slave to my whims, I still try to give myself anything I want. My goal is to maximize pleasure, and I think I do it well.” she explained further. “Villainy… Well, if heroism was this fun, I would be a hero.” he paused, shrugging, “but it’s not… so I’m not.”

Sakura smiled, seemingly pleased with the answer as she resettled herself on the settee. “Authur Ashe once said ‘True heroism is remarkably sober, very undramatic. It is not the urge to surpass all others at whatever cost, but the urge to serve others at whatever cost.’ I believe myself heroic, at least in the sense that I serve villainous causes.” Sakura reasoned, purposefully perverting the message “But you… you don’t serve anything but yourself?” she asked, her smile widening as she looked up at the villain before her. “How do you justify it then? All of this.” Sakura continued, grinning as Aito sat down next to her feet, unusual behavior for the distant and stoic man Sakura knew. “Who does your heroism serve, pet?”

Aito paused, thinking hard as he leaned against the back of the little couch. “I don’t believe it serves you, Sakura san.” Aito reasoned, his hands slipping behind his back as if in thought. “Nor any specific villainous cause… I guess I’d say that my heroism serves my friends, my community, and my family.” Aito settled, her posture straightening as she turned to face Sakura. “As well as the heroes of Japan.” and before Sakura could even process the sentence, Aito was already tackling her to the ground.

The fight was short, Aito quickly getting the upper hand on the villain, and pinning her on her stomach as he cuffed her hands behind her back. “Checkmate!” Sakura barked, struggling under Aito’s knee. “What are you doing!”

But she was ignored, the character Checkmate immediately falling as Aito came back into the spotlight. “I already told you! I’m doing what I want!” he giggled, Sakura shouting in protest as he stood up and kicked over the settee. From his pocket Aito produced a small folding knife, which he used to cut open the bottom of the couch. Aito stuck her hand into the space and pulled out a bulky handheld radio. She flicked it on and messed with the knobs till there was a definite beep, quickly pressing the button on the side. “Iku! Yessam! My 9 months are up!” she chirped, Sakura stunned by the difference between her teammate and this new person, both somehow seeming to share the same body. “Yua Sakura is detained, I’m gonna need help for transport though.”

“Detained- you can’t detain me you brute!” Sakura barked, the chains around her wrists clattering as she fought against them. She was happily ignored by Aito.

There was a pause, and then a scratchy voice came through the other side of the radio. “Great job Aito!” the man replied, seemingly just as excited as Aito. “We'll be there in half an hour! Just keep Sakura entertained till then.”

Aito nodded quickly, looking down on the villain with a grin. “Awe you should have seen it, Ikuto! I was monologuing and everything! I was like a real life villain!” she giggled

“Troubling how well you can do that.” a different voice now, one Aito seemed just as pleased to hear. “But still impressive, good job Aito.”

“You bet your ass it was!” Aito yelled in excitement, practically bouncing in place. “Awe, I missed you guys so much! My hair is… wow, it’s rough. Blonde is not my color.” she laughed, noticing Sakura messing with the chains on her handcuffs and immediately realizing what was going on. “h-hold on there!” she barked, kicking Sakura’s side to discourage her from using her quirk against the metal.

“I-I can’t believe! You were nothing when I found you!” She yelled, curling in on herself to guard against any other attacks.

“God she’s a pain to deal with- but whatever! Jetsam! You have to take me to get my hair cut! Long is cute but it makes everything so much harder! Do you know how many times I’ve been grabbed by the hair? It’s wicked what people do to me.” he whined, glaring at Sakura before stepping away from her side.

“Sounds like a plan Aito.” Jetsam laughed, the background noise probably coming from whatever vehicle they were using to find the hide away. “Are you starting on the scene? We may not have a lot of time before the rest of the villains arrive.”

“Already on it!” Aito laughed, shoving her shoulder into a nearby bookcase and watching it fall into the ones behind it. “After this we only need to torch the place a bit, and it’ll look just like a kidnapping!” she giggled, watching all the books spill onto the floor with a chaotic glee.

“You- you traitor!” Sakura screamed from her spot on the floor, seemingly not enjoying the mess like Aito was, and still struggling against the cuffs. “I’ll destroy you- ruin you- I’ll burn- your heart.” She had actually managed to sit up by the time Aito had strolled over, but was quickly stopped by the hero.

“Awe…”Aito cooed, leaning over a bit to look the woman in the eye. “You’re cute when you’re mad, too bad you weren’t this entertaining the entire time. Hell, maybe I would have become an actual villain.” he joked dryly. “Sorry for this, but I can’t have you getting away.” Aito smirked, not looking sorry at all as he threw a punch at her temple, knocking her out cold.

“Mama always says never to hit a lady.” Aito sighed, talking back into the radio

“I think these are extenuating circumstances. Mama would understand.” Ikuto laughed, back in control of the radio. “Jetsam’s driving, we’ll be there soon. Have fun destroying the place.”

And have fun, Aito definitely did.

[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

[dreamingofaizawa]

Short Stack

Okay, so I recently started a series called Saving Her Sanity, and I had only gotten one part posted. But the more I reread it, the more I really hated the way I’d written it. So I’m postponing that and starting a different series. It’s gonna be a real rollercoaster ride of emotions, so buckle up.

Pro Hero! KiriBaku x ProHero! Fem! Reader

**18+ Fic**

Warnings: Angst, fluff, habitual self-harm, dissociation, swearing from obvious sources, alcohol. Coming up in later parts: smexy times, biting kink, double penetration, unprotected sex, more angst, traumatic past (but not super detailed cuz I can’t handle that shit my heart hurts already)

Word Count: 6.9k

Author’s Note: Alright folks, the reader is a fucking savage and stronger than the fucking hulk cause why the fuck not? Tbh body type isn’t discussed, the only thing is that she’s short af and the angry pomeranian and redhead boulder are freaking giants. Also, everyone’s in their mid-late twenties here. 

Part 2 - Part 3

Enjoy the read!

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You dove out of the way of chunks of concrete, barely making it behind the corner of the alleyway. You took off sprinting, hopefully drawing the villain away from civilian activity. Thankfully he chased after you, onto an abandoned street, out in the open where you had the upper hand. Twirling around, you materialized a scythe and swung it straight at the enormous arm coming at you, nearly chopping off the villain’s fist completely. 

He stopped in his tracks and howled in pain, giving you the opening you needed. You charged him and dropped to the ground, taking his legs out as you slid under him. A chain materialized in place of the scythe and you wrapped it around his ankles and his undamaged hand, hog tying him in place. You’d only been fighting the villain for about five minutes, and backup wasn’t going to be there for at least another two, so you put a quirk cancelling cuff on him and began to wrap his bleeding wrist to keep him from bleeding out. 

As you waited for backup, you sat down and leaned against the villain, who’d passed out from blood loss, and tended to your own wounds from the encounter. Backup arrived, but it wasn’t what you expected. Instead of police, stomping toward you was none other than the number two hero Ground Zero. His vermillion eyes glanced between you and the villain that was quite literally twice your size, and the expression on his face looked ever so slightly confused at the scene he was witnessing. 

He stopped at your feet, glaring down at you for a few seconds, looked back at the villain, then back at you, and when he opened his mouth to speak the most absurd thing you’d ever heard came from his lips.

“How the hell did you do that?”

You looked up at him and raised an eyebrow, slightly irritated at the implication behind the question. Without a word, you stood up and dusted the dirt off your butt. You walked a few yards away, pulled out your phone and dialed the police, making sure they came with a vehicle that could fit the huge villain. When you turned back around to face Ground Zero, you didn’t expect him to be so close to you. He leaned down so you were face to face, narrowing his eyes at you and letting out what sounded like a growl. “I don’t like being ignored, dumbass.”

You rolled your eyes and glared right back at him. “Well I don’t like to be undermined, Ground Zero. I may be small but I can handle myself in a fight.” And it was true. You were very small, at a whopping 5 feet tall (152 cm). His eye twitched and jaw clenched, and you could almost see the steam coming from his ears. Before he could retort, you saw something being launched from behind him. You swung your leg under him and pinned him to the ground just in time to dodge a manhole cover as it whizzed above your heads.

Without hesitation you launched toward the second villain that appeared and quickly had him immobilized and cuffed on the ground next to the first. You turned back to the number two hero, who was still on the ground watching you with wide eyes. You walked over and held your hand out to him, offering to help him up. To your surprise he actually grabbed your hand and let you pull him to stand. He didn’t let go of your hand, instead looking at it, bewildered. 

“Can I have my hand back?” you looked at him blankly. He blinked a few times before releasing his grip. Soon the police arrived to take the villains, and once they left, you began to walk back to the agency since your patrol had ended a little while ago. Ground Zero ran after you and grabbed you by the wrist, turning you around to face him.

“What’s your name?” You raised an eyebrow at the man. “My hero name is Inventory. Now If you don’t mind, I’ve got paperwork to fill out.” He let go of your arm and walked alongside you. You knew why he was walking with you, seeing as you worked as a hero at his agency. As you walked into the building he turned to you with a quizzical look. Without even glancing in his direction you gave a small sigh. “Why am I not surprised that you don’t even know I work under you?”

He seemed slightly shocked. He made it a point to know who was working for him. After all, he couldn’t have anybody screwing up his agency’s reputation. Somehow, though, you’d managed to slip under his radar. Though considering your stature, hero rank, and the fact that you hadn’t made a single mistake since your debut, he figured he’d just brushed you off.

After you filled out all your paperwork, you changed out of your hero costume and into workout clothes and hit the agency’s gym. Like you always did, you went straight to the separate room reserved for sparring, expecting to have to go back out and find a partner. Today, though, you didn’t. As you entered the room, there was a certain angry blonde and a very muscular red-haired man sitting against the wall. 

“Well if it isn’t short stack” Ground Zero called out to you. Well that’s one way to get you mad. You tilted your head sharply to one side, then the other, your neck popping loudly as you took a deep breath to calm your anger. “Hello, Ground Zero. I didn’t expect you to be in here. I’ll just leave you to it then.” The irritation seeped into your voice as you turned around to leave the room.

Of course, the jackass had to go and say something else. “What? You too scared to spar against me? Am I too big for you to handle?” God damn it. You both knew you had taken down much larger opponents than him, and you knew it wasn’t very smart to fight your boss, but at this point you were pissed. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath through your nose.

He stood up and began stalking towards you, his heavy footsteps ringing in your ears. You dropped your duffel and whirled around, walking to him and meeting him in the middle of the room. At least sparring was only hand-to-hand combat, because you knew he’d easily overpower you if he could use his quirk. But you trained almost exclusively in hand-to-hand, because your quirk wasn’t combat related.

As you dropped into your fighting stance, he narrowed his eyes at you, clearly confused at the odd stance you were in. In all your years of training, you had developed your very own fighting style. He quickly shrugged off his confusion and put his arms up in front of his face, ready for whatever you were about to throw at him. The two of you stood there, waiting for the other to make the first move. As predicted, his patience ran out and you easily ducked and dodged the first few quick jabs he threw.

He kept throwing punches, each one a little more intense, and you could see he was getting irritated from how you were dodging every single one. Soon enough he was lunging at you with each punch he threw, his anger getting the best of him. Five minutes of him punching and you dodging had him fuming. You hadn’t even thrown a single punch. Still, it was a game of cat and mouse with you dodging everything he threw.

The whole time he’d been aiming at your face and shoulders, keeping his strikes high. But suddenly he launched at you and his right fist aimed straight for your stomach. Got him. You planted your right foot and spun counter-clockwise, grabbed his wrist with your left hand, grabbed his shoulder with your right, and used his own momentum to fling him over your head. He landed on his back with a thud, all the air pushed out of his lungs from the impact. 

You knew he’d have to take a few seconds to get up from that, and that meant you won the match in a single move. You stood over his head, smirking down at him. He glared up at you with eyes wide as saucers, wheezing from the throw, and the redhead cackled from his spot against the wall. You kneeled down and hunched over, your noses inches apart, and said, “Still think you’re too big for me to handle?”

Staring down at him, you stood again and walked over to the redhead. “Hi, I’m (y/l/n) (y/n), hero name Inventory.” You introduced yourself and held your hand out for him to shake. He took it and introduced himself as Kirishima Eijirou, a.k.a. Red Riot. You walked back over to Ground Zero and once again held your hand out to help him up. This time, he slapped your hand away and got up himself. “The name’s Bakugou Katsuki,” he said, scowling at you.

Kirishima got up and came over, “Come on Bakugou, don’t be a jerk just cause you lost. Sorry about that (y/l/n), he’s just prideful.” You chuckled lightly, waving it off, “It’s fine. I’ve heard ALL about Ground Zero’s friendly personality and peppy attitude. Anyway, It’s been fun, but I should get going.” Kirishima stopped you before you could walk away. “Hey, (y/l/n), we were gonna go out for drinks after this, you wanna join us?” You looked over to Bakugou, who didn’t give any input, choosing instead to glare at the corner. “Sure I’ll meet you outside in ten.”

You picked up your duffel and went back to the locker room to change into your civilian clothes. The bar was only a couple blocks away, so you all left your stuff in your cars and walked over. Bakugou didn’t say anything the whole way there, still wallowing in his humiliating defeat. You, being the smartass you are, decided to poke the bear.

“Stop sulking Bakugou, I haven’t lost a sparring match since high school. Besides, if we were to use our quirks you’d most likely win the match. You don’t gotta be all depressed about it.” His head snapped toward you and his hands popped and crackled at his sides. It was probably meant to scare you, but you only put your hands up in mock surrender. 

When you got to the bar you all ordered your drinks and sat down at a booth. Kirishima looked at you and started asking questions. “So, (y/l/n), if you��re so sure you’d lose to Bakugou’s quirk, what’s yours?” You answered him like you answered everyone else who’d asked you the same question. “Basically, it’s like an inventory in a video game, hence the hero name. I can “store” things in a pocket of space and materialize them whenever I need them,” then you held out your hand and materialized your car keys and cell phone.

His eyes went wide and he started gushing about how cool and convenient that is. Meanwhile, Bakugou just rolled his eyes and mumbled “showoff” under his breath. Kirishima elbowed him and told him to behave, making you giggle at the dynamic of the two. Despite being at a bar, the only one that drank any alcohol was Kirishima. What really shocked you was that he was a terrible lightweight, and getting him to walk back to the agency was proving extremely difficult, because he was leaning nearly all his weight on you and Bakugou didn’t bother to help.

In fact, Bakugou was busy snickering at the sight of you trying to keep Kirishima from stumbling out onto the road and taking you with him. You’d be lying if you said Kirishima wasn’t heavy, but years of weight training and hero work pays off cause you could easily squat over 200 lbs even if you were tiny. So about a block from the agency, you’d had enough of trying to keep Kirishima from falling over and you just stopped walking.

Kirishima was too out of it to notice. But Bakugou turned and started teasing you for not being able to handle the weight. You just rolled your eyes at him. Before Bakugou could move and take him off your hands, you took a deep breath, and hauled Kirishima onto your shoulders in a fireman carry. Bakugou’s jaw dropped, and he froze in place, just staring at the scene in front of him. That both annoyed you and made you extremely proud, cause you just impressed the number two hero. You were sure the scene was at least a little funny, a giant hanging off your tiny frame, but you ignored it.

Once you had Kirishima secured on your shoulders, you started the trek to the agency. Again, Bakugou was completely silent, but you could tell it wasn’t because he was sulking. Once you were back at the agency, Bakugo led you to his car and got Kirishima settled in the back seat while you stretched out your arms, popping your shoulders and neck. You were about to say bye and head back to your car when Bakugou stopped you. 

“Thanks for carrying him. It was impressive. Unexpected,” he said, not making eye contact, “And the match earlier…You did good. I haven’t been beat that bad in a while.” It almost looked like he was blushing, but it was so subtle you couldn’t tell. You smiled softly at the compliments. “Thanks, Bakugou. I had fun. I’ll be going now.” You turned to walk to your car, but he stopped you again. “Oi, short stack!” You froze at the name, and turned around with a sickly sweet smile on your face, “Yes, Bakugou?” “What’s your number?” It was your turn to be shocked. But you got over it and recited your number to him as he punched it into his phone.

When you got home it was just after midnight, so you got ready for bed and lay down to sleep. The next few days passed relatively quickly, occasionally running into Kirishima or Bakugou. There wasn’t any villain activity in the area, and your gym time was productive. You got a couple of people to spar with you when you needed it, and spent any extra time weight training.

The next day you were off, just like every day you had off, you went straight to the agency and hit the gym. You spent a solid hour at the punching bag and went to go spar again. This time there were five others in the room, which was extremely rare. Normally the room was empty. Two pairs were already going at it, so you asked the fifth if she wanted to spar. 

You’d already worked up a sweat at the punching bag, but you needed the spar, so instead of finishing quickly you made sure to take a couple punches and throw a few before ending the match. You kept the same partner for a few matches, winning each one, and soon the others were watching as you won two more rounds.

The partner you’d been sparring with tapped out to get water, and someone else quickly took her place. You immediately jumped into another match. And then another. And another. Soon they tapped out as well, and by then there were a few more people filing into the room to watch. It confused you, because you’d never seen more than ten people in the padded room, but you ignored it and began another match with yet another partner.

After another few rounds, your new partner tapped out, and you decided it was time to get some water. But it wasn’t until you stepped back out into the center of the room that you realised nobody else was starting a match. Nobody else was sparring with anybody, all their eyes locked on you. As you looked around the room, you noticed it was getting crowded with people, all your previous opponents had already left, and a new opponent stepped out to challenge you.

Now this was strange. Even with your opponent getting into his fighting stance, you looked around the room, confused as to why there were so many people. You dodged a jab, snapping your attention back to your opponent. Well that was a dirty move. At his next swing you ducked under his arm, lunged to his side and swept his legs out from underneath him, ending the match before he could even blink. Playing dirty gets you knocked the fuck out as far as sparring goes for you.

The crowd that had gathered cheered at the quick takedown, and yet another opponent stepped out. You lost track of time, sparring dozens of different opponents, never losing a single match. If you began to tire all you did was end the match quickly to regain energy. After you went to refill your water for what must have been the 20th time, you checked the clock. It was already noon. You’d been sparring for five hours. 

When you went back into the room, another opponent waited in the middle. You apologized and said you had to leave, and the crowd dispersed within minutes. You showered and changed, and as you left the locker room you got a text from a number you didn’t recognize.

?:

Oi short stack, what are you doing right now?

Correction, you knew EXACTLY who this was.

You:

Just got out of the gym. Why?

Bakugou:

Where?

You: 

At the agency

Why?

You didn’t get a reply, but you didn’t need one, cause Bakugou was waiting for you outside the building, sitting in his car, with Kirishima in the passenger seat. “You haven’t had lunch yet right?” Bakugou asked. You shook your head no. Kirishima spoke this time, “Great! Let’s go eat, I’m starving!” Bakugou rolled his eyes and told you to get in, and you chuckled as you got into the back seat.

During the ride Kirishima asked about your day, and you told him about the strange occurrence while you sparred, with a crowd forming to watch and people popping out of nowhere to challenge your winning streak. “Wow (y/l/n)! You still haven’t lost? I should spar with you and see if I can win!” You giggled at that and agreed to spar with him next time. And you kept reiterating how strange it was that there’d be so many people in the room at once, when normally there’s only a handful at a time.

They both questioned it but soon shrugged it off as Bakugou parked the car in front of the sushi restaurant. Lunch was a whirlwind of Kirishima asking you questions, you asking them questions, and Bakugou bickering at Kirishima when he ignored Bakugou entirely. It was fun seeing the two so close. Eventually the conversation rounded back to your sparring matches earlier.

“So how long were you there? If a crowd formed you had to have been at it for a while.” Kirishima asked, trying to figure out how long you’d fought people. You answered sheepishly, a bit embarrassed that you’d lost track of time so easily, “Well...when I checked the clock it’d been about five hours.” Both of them froze, staring at you with wide eyes. Your face burned and you took a sip of your water. Bakugou was the first to talk. “You’re a fucking beast.” Kirishima’s expression went from shock to concern. “Are you ok? Like, how are you not passed out right now?”

You assured him you were fine, and explained how much time you spent in the gym nearly every day, even after patrol. Your gym time only seemed to surprise them more, and after they told you about their gym schedule, you realised just how much time you spent in the gym, and the more you thought about it, the more you realised how lonely you were.

Kirishima seemed to catch on to your stress and smoothly changed the subject. After lunch, Bakugou drove you back to the agency, and Kirishima asked if you wanted to go to their place for drinks. “Sure, as long as I don’t have to carry you again,” you laughed. Kirishima turned and looked at you, his cheeks nearly as red as his hair. “Wait...you carried me?”.

Bakugou barked out a laugh. “Yeah shitty hair, she threw you over her shoulders and hauled your wasted ass back to the car.” Kirishima’s face somehow burned brighter and apologized profusely, but you waved it off. “Nah, it’s fine! Besides, if Bakugou wasn’t being such an ass I wouldn’t have had to carry you. I just got sick of trying to keep you standing upright while he snickered at me being short.” Bakugo scoffed. “Well you’re definitely not tall.” “I don’t need to be to kick your sorry ass.”

At that Bakugou went silent and Kirishima exploded in a fit of laughter. “Put a sock in it shitty hair! And you!” Bakugou glared at you in the rearview mirror, “I’m gonna beat your stubby ass next time!” You looked at him with a smirk and a raised eyebrow. “Is that a challenge, Ground Zero?” He growled at the mention of his hero name. “Yeah short stack, it’s a fucking challenge.”

Soon the car parked in the parking garage, and you all went up to their shared apartment. It was spacious, and very modern. Bakugou pointed out the bathroom and went to the kitchen to grab three bottles of beer. The three of you settled into the living room and the conversation went just like lunch did. Most of the questions were directed at you, and you answered honestly. 

The questions were generic and friendly, what you like to do in your spare time (besides going to the gym), your favorite foods, colors, your likes and dislikes, your pet peeves. After the first round of questioning you’d only got through one bottle of beer. “Hey, what other kinds of alcohol you got?” you questioned Bakugou. He got up and listed his menu from the kitchen. You asked him for a glass of the cream liquor, and he returned with a glass filled with the liquid. 

After hours of aimless conversation and a few more glasses, you found yourself slowing as the alcohol permeated your system. That was your signal to ask for a snack and water, and you stopped your intake of alcohol. Bakugou caught on to your self cut-off. “You don’t need to limit yourself. We’ve got a spare room if you need to stay the night, and if you need to call in tomorrow the agency has plenty of people to take over your patrol.” His statement shocked you, and you looked at him like he was crazy.

He spoke again, “If you’re cautious about sharing a place with two guys, Kiri’s nearly wasted already, he can’t do shit, and if I were stupid enough to do anything I’m sure you’d kick my ass before I got within a foot of you. As for tomorrow, both of us are off, and like I said, the agency is not short-staffed. And i’ve got meds if you’re worried about a hangover, and I don’t mind lending you clothes if you need them.”

You were stunned. Completely and utterly bewildered. But he made good points, so you decided to take up his offer to spend the night. “You know what, I’ll stay. But I'm gonna slow down with the alcohol, because hangovers are a bitch to deal with even with painkillers.” And with that, the three of you continued talking. Soon Kirishima passed out and Bakugou hauled him into his room. Surprisingly enough, when he came back out he actually engaged the conversation.

He asked about your fighting style, how you developed it, how long you trained. Most of his questioning was about your physical strength and tenacity, nothing personal. But then he asked why you spent so much of your time in the gym instead of with friends. And you answered honestly and bluntly, probably mostly because of the alcohol. “To be honest, I’m not much of a social butterfly. I don’t really have friends, because I don’t ‘make friends’ with people. In fact, you could call me antisocial. I don’t really like talking to people. I don’t speak unless spoken to or unless speaking is necessary.”

And he only dove deeper. “Why not? The world too scary from down there?” he teased. You laughed darkly at the comment, choosing to drain your glass of alcohol in favor of answering the implied question. He looked at you and raised an eyebrow. “What is it?”

“What is what?”

“You avoided the question.”

“Well it wasn’t really a question, just a jab at my height again”

“Yeah, and you didn’t jab back.”

You huff, “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I think I know exactly what the fuck I’m talking about.”

“Just drop it Bakugou.”

“I won’t drop it. Not until you give me some kind of answer.”

“Are you always this insensitive or is it just the alcohol?”

“Spill it (y/l/n).”

“Ugh fine! But I’m not giving you any details.” You crack your knuckles, take a deep breath, and a long drink of water before you talk again. “I used to like making friends. But all the friends I made turned out to be liars and fakes. I was used. A lot. After a while I finally had enough, so I stopped approaching people. I decided if people want to be in my life they can approach me. I got good at reading people, and I shut them out fast if they weren’t good for me.” You sighed, praying that was enough to sate Bakugou’s drunken curiosity. It wasn’t.

“And if people approached you with the intention of using you? If you read them wrong?” he pried. Screw it. You already spilled this much right? Might as well get it out. “I got really good at pretty bad things. I don’t usually read wrong, because I’m suspicious of everyone that walks into my life.” Internally, you prayed that was enough for him. “What kinds of bad things?” Well that’s unfortunate.

“Things like eavesdropping. Spying. Hiding. Manipulation. Lying. Deceit. Long story short, I have trust issues. It’s easier to keep people at arm’s distance than make friends that could hurt you.” At that, Bakugou goes quiet, his eyes studying your face. And you stare back at him, waiting for the judgement that comes with opening up to people. Waiting for the ‘maybe you should openup more’ and ‘just give people a chance’. But his answer is unexpected. His face softens ever so slightly as his eyes lock onto yours, his voice low, soft and somewhat comforting. “Sounds rough.” You look away, trying to keep your breathing steady, not giving tears the chance to fall, “I’m gonna turn in. Good night, Bakugou.”

Moving quickly, you disappear into the spare room and curl up into the bed sheets. Why the hell are you crying? You’d talked about this before. So why now, of all times, are you suddenly sobbing into your hoodie, clinging to it like your lifeline? You try your best to keep quiet, hoping the only other person awake doesn’t hear you. You don’t know how long it’s been, but you hear the door handle turn, and you freeze, closing your eyes and steadying your breath, going completely silent in mock-sleep. It was a technique you’d perfected long ago, turning off your emotionsin order to avoid confrontation.

You hear heavy footsteps, knowing who it is that just stepped in. He was the only other one still awake. You feel the bed behind you dip, and strong arms curl around you and turn your body, burying your face into Bakugou’s solid chest. His deep voice rumbles softly in your ear. “I know you’re not sleeping shorty. I listened through the door and heard you crying. Just let it out.” And before you can stop them, the tears you’d willed to disappear begin to pour down your face. So you sob into his chest, his arms tightening around you as your entire body shakes.

Soon you’re drifting into sleep, your body giving in to exhaustion. You’re in a deep sleep, and Bakugou stays there, holding you, until the last hiccups subside. He leans away to look down at you, and brushes strands of hair away from your face. “How long has it been since you’ve cried, princess? How long since you bottled up those emotions inside you?” He questions your sleeping figure. He presses a soft kiss into your forehead, gets up and tucks you under the blanket before silently leaving the room and going to bed.

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When you wake up, your eyelids are heavy and swollen, making it hard to open them. You tenderly massage them open, remembering the reason they’re so puffy and sore. Despite the discomfort of your eyes, you feel refreshed and light, a weight lifted off your chest that you didn’t know was there in the first place. No, it was more like it’s been there for so long you’d gotten used to the pressure. Slowly, you sit up and blink away sleep.

You check the clock and it’s 8 am, a couple hours later than you normally get up. At the foot of your bed is a set of folded clothes. You quickly change out of the clothes you slept in, and into the t-shirt and sweatpants that you assumed were Bakugou’s. As expected, they’re giant on you, but they’re comfortable, and they smell like Bakug-- NO. Stop. You shake the thought out of your head as quickly as it came and go out to see if either of the guys are up.

You quickly get your answer when you see Kirishima lounging -- freaking SHIRTLESS -- on the couch. Talk about eye candy, damn. Like sure, his hero costume doesn’t exactly hide anything, but it’s different when he’s laying across a couch in nothing but gray sweatpants. Again, you clear the thoughts before they screw you over, and greet him. “Hey (y/l/n) how’d you sleep?” “Pretty good, thanks. I’m surprised you’re up so early Kiri.” He laughs at the observation, “Yeah. Bakugou got me up a little while ago and I couldn’t go back to sleep.” Yeah, that makes sense. You nod and make your way into the kitchen, and as expected, Bakugo is there.

“Good morning Bakugou,” you greet him. “Morning shorty. How’d you sleep?” You answer with the same reply you gave Kirishima a few seconds ago. You lowered your voice a little and leaned slightly toward him, “Thank you, by the way. For last night. I really needed that.” He just nods, focusing his attention to the fridge to find breakfast. Satisfied with that, you turn and head back to the couch and chill with Kirishima until Bakugou calls you to the table to eat.

You ask them what they do on their days off, and today the plan was just to stay in and lounge around the house, not doing much of anything and just relaxing. So, that’s what you did. As the hours passed, you found yourself liking the company of the two men, despite their imposing size. You didn’t feel small with them. But the question lingering at the back of your mind was why? Why were you so comfortable around them?

Thoughts buzzed around in your head like a hurricane, mixing with the doubt that they were in any way comfortable with you, and the fear that they were only using you for what men always seem to want. Soon you were telling yourself all the bad scenarios that would end in them leaving you all alone again. You didn’t even know them all that well, but you had become attached and were already bracing yourself for the inevitable loss of the two. The memory of crying to Bakugou last night swirled into your mind and wouldn’t disappear.

You were spiraling into a panic like you always did when people got close. But it was hidden, suppressed, contained. Whenever you panicked it never showed, the only telltale sign being your sudden need to scratch the soft flesh on the inside of your elbow. You hadn’t scratched in so long that any previous wounds had completely healed over, the only evidence left were small patches of discoloration, only evident if you stare long enough. That was about to change as your nails dug furiously while you stared off into space.

Kirishima was the first to snap you out of your spiral, grabbing your wrists and shaking you out, calling your name frantically. Your senses began to drift back, and the next thing you noticed was the sting on your forearms and the light stain of blood on your nails and fingertips. Your eyes drifted from your wrist up to your inner elbow, and you winced at the sight of blood seeping out of the shredded welts. It looked like it should have hurt more than it did.

“Bakugou! Get the first aid kit from the bathroom! (y/l/n)’s bleeding!” Kirishima called out to him. You heard quick heavy stomps and a curse from the blonde before he came over to examine your arms. He looked at you, and you looked back at him, still dazed from your inner turmoil. He knew from that look you were out of it. Instead he questioned the redhead to ask what had happened while he was in the kitchen figuring out what to make for lunch.

“I don’t know! I was watching tv and when I turned to ask her something she was staring off into space and scratching at her arms! She was bleeding before I even turned and I grabbed her before it could get worse.” Bakugou clenched his jaw and went to get a wet washcloth to clean up the blood. You were watching this all unfold before you, still not quite attached to reality. When he returned, he put the cloth on his lap and grabbed your face in his hands, stroking your cheeks with calloused thumbs. He called your voice, attempting to ground you, and didn’t stop until you finally took a few quick breaths and blinked, answering him with a small ‘sorry’.

He grabbed your wrists, which Kirishima had already released, and spoke to you in a hushed tone, but still strong and intense. “(y/l/n) I need you to listen to me. Are you allergic to anything? Anything at all?” It took a few moments for you to regain your mental balance, but you shook your head. “No. Nothing.” He let out a soft breath and with that he began to clean and dress your arms, wiping away blood and cleaning your fingers and nails in silent concentration.

By the time the entire ordeal was over, the different sensations from the sting of the alcohol wipes to the cool ointment and the soft gauze had grounded you completely. As Bakugou went to put the first aid kit away, Kirishima reached out and gripped your shoulders, looking over your face and into your eyes with tender concern. “You okay little pebble?” He moved his large hands so they rested at the sides of your neck, his thumbs gently brushing at your jaw.

You blush lightly at the endearing nickname and the new sensation of his hands. Leaning slightly into one of his palms, you nod. “Yeah, I’m okay. I don’t really wanna talk about it, but I’ll be just fine. I just got distracted.” He looked at you with a face that said he didn’t believe your excuse, but he’d drop the subject because you asked him to. Letting his hand release you, he gives you a toothy, mischievous grin. He leans in closer to you and nearly whispers, like he was about to reveal the world’s biggest scandal.

“That was the most gentle I’ve ever seen Bakugou. Thanks for bringing that side out of him,” he says, flashing another smile. You giggle a little at the thought of the explosive male being gentle, not quite believing it if you hadn’t been subject to it. Then you remembered why he’d been there, tending to the wounds you’d subconsciously inflicted on yourself. Your eyebrows knitted together lightly, remembering the spiral and being shaken out of it by a panicked Kirishima. When Bakugou came back, you grabbed one of their hands in each of yours.

“I’m sorry for worrying you,” you say softly. After a few moments of silence, you decided you owed them an explanation of some kind. “And thank you for catching me. The scratching is a nervous habit when I’m stressed. I thought I got rid of it, but obviously I haven’t. It’s been a long time since it happened last, and it was triggered by my own drifting thoughts. It’s purely subconscious and I don’t realize what I’m doing until the pain becomes too unbearable and snaps me back to reality.”

By the end of your explanation, the two were looking at you with concern and understanding. Kirishima gently smiled, and Bakugou’s features relaxed, when you squeezed their hands appreciatively. The comfortable silence was suddenly broken by a low growl. You laughed at the comedic timing of your stomach and glanced at the clock. It was just after 12:30, and Bakugou got up to go make lunch. After eating you asked to wash your clothes, and asked to use the shower. Kirishima got you a spare towel and plastic wrap to cover your newly dressed forearms. Five minutes under the hot water and you were already feeling suffocated. The steam clouded your lungs, making it harder and harder to breathe.

You knew you had a problem with hot water. You always have. Jacuzzis were never relaxing for you, and you loved the cool water of the ocean the deeper you dove toward inky blackness. You turned the handle in the shower, letting the water turn cold. Your body shivered slightly from the sudden temperature change, but quickly relaxed as the cold water washed away all the stress from a few hours ago.

When you had finished up you went to go relax on the couch again, settling into the space between the two. Now with your mind clear, you began to wonder something that you probably should have wondered a while ago. How tall were they, really? They stood over a foot taller than you, so they had to be at least 6 feet tall. You looked from one to the other, your head swiveling back and forth, before you decided to just ask them.

Bakugou barked out a deep laugh, “Why you wanna know shorty? Finally realizing how scary we look from down there?” You rolled your eyes at him, but he answered anyway. “I’m 6 foot 4 (193 cm).” Kirishima looked down at you and beamed, “I’m 6 foot 6 (198 cm).” Bakugou scoffed, and you giggled at the blonde getting upset over height. Suddenly you bounced up from the couch and turned to the two, barely containing the thought that suddenly popped into your mind. Out of the two, the redhead seemed like the more likely to carry out your request, so you turned to Kirishima with wide excited eyes and a lopsided grin like a kid in a candy store.

“Can you carry me?!” you blurted out a little too loud. Kirishima blushed hard, and then you realized how ridiculous the request sounded and rushed to explain. “Sorry! That sounded weird right? I just wanna know what life looks like from that high up! I’m only 5 feet tall so…” you rambled a little before Kirishima laughed and stood up. “Sure little pebble.” He turned you around and squatted down, put his left arm around your waist and right arm against your thighs just above your knees and told you to lean back and sit on his arm. 

Once you were seated snugly, your back pressed against his chest, he stood up and you gasped a little from the new angle. The floor looked so far away, and you knew that if Kirishima decided to hold you by your armpits your feet would dangle a foot from the floor. Bakugou looked up at you from the couch and scoffed. “Alright shitty hair, put her down before you drop her and she breaks her legs from the fall.” Your hilariously rebellious brain took that as a challenge. You smirked at Bakugou, his eyes daring you to do exactly what you were thinking. But before you could move he looked at the redhead behind you, and the arm around your waist tightened as he reached to grab his right bicep. He slightly activated his quirk, locking you in place. 

“Aw, c’mon! You’re no fun! I’ve jumped from buildings before and landed perfectly fine!” You whined as you squirmed in Kirishima’s arms. Both of them laughed at your struggle, and once again, your brain instantly settled on ‘challenge accepted’. You quickly surveyed your surroundings, going about the best way to escape Red Riot without damaging any of the heroes’ property.

Before either of them could react, you materialized quirk-cancelling handcuffs and clasped one side around Kirishima's left wrist. The instant it went into effect, you brought your foot up and back down into the redhead’s stomach just hard enough for his grip on you to loosen up. When his right arm dropped to grab his abdomen, you slipped down along his body, grabbed the free cuff on your way down and snapped it around the leg of the coffee table, Kirishima landing flat on his ass with an ‘oof’.

Once again, Bakugou just stared in shock. You crossed your arms and smirked at him, “What was that about dropping me, Bakugou?” He was silent. Kirishima chuckled from his spot on the ground. “Damn, you’re a sneaky one little pebble.” You turned back around and took a deep bow. You materialized the cuff’s key and released him, storing them back in your quirk’s storage space. Finally recovering from his shock, Bakugou looked at the time and said, “Alright, short stack. Let’s go spar.” You turned to him and spoke what your brain had thought only moments before. “Challenge accepted.”

[todourouki]

Misery Business | K. Bakugou

a one shot

✰ SUMMARY the one where you didn’t mean to take the hothead away from his girlfriend, but you did anyway. It was nothing personal, you just knew that Bakugou Katsuki deserved way better than what he was settling for.

PAIRING Taken/Pro-Hero!Bakugou & Fem!Reader

WORD COUNT 4.6K

WARNINGS explicit language, mentions of cheating, cheating lol, suggestive language, angst, and some fluff at the end bc I cannot end my fics in a bad way I am weak sorry!

You were not a home wrecker.

At least, you wouldn’t say that to your own face.

You knew that the crush you had on Bakugou was wrong. You know that no matter how it is that you put it, or however strong your feelings are, or even however long you’ve even had feelings— liking a guy in a relationship was a huge no-no.

You weren’t the kind of girl to go around liking a girl’s boyfriend, though. It’s not like your feelings magically appeared out of thin air and now you’re stuck falling inlove with a guy that finds solitude in someone else— no, you aren’t like that.

Your feelings for Bakugou are much more complex, to say the least.

It all started in high school, when just the mere thought of the boy brought butterflies to your stomach with how strong and courageous he was. From his attractive face, to his blunt and explosive personality, you always found yourself admiring him when given the chance.

All of that went to shit when he decided to finally give one of the girls that were always fawning over him a chance during the beginning of your third year attending Yuuei Academy.

It was like you had gotten punched in the face, and now it feels like you’re just purposely getting stabbing in the heart every time you did as much as look at them.

That definitely explains why you’re sulking at your table during a school dance with a scowl on your face so you don’t have to see the happy couple waltz around the cafeteria floor.

All the top Pro-Heroes were assigned to attend the dance as academy alumni in order to ensure the safety of the students (as well as make sure students even decided to show up). You, being one of the top five heroes, were ordered to show up with no complaints.

The song currently playing finally changed from a low-tempo song to a much higher one, and with that, you decided to make that your imaginary queue to take a walk around the school’s building before returning to the large decorated area.

Your heel-clad feet dragged you all the way across the gymnasium, sending kids smiles if they were in your way and simply telling them that you were “getting some fresh air before the real fun starts.”

The doors slammed shut, and the solitude of the hallways engulfed in dark hues reflected against your strained eyes in a way that made you have to physically restrain your hand from harshly rubbing at it in order to make sure your make up stood intact.

The halls reminded you of a younger you (and by younger, you mean two years. you’re only 20 and already have the mind of some old hag) that used to run through these halls with a mini little green skirt and an imagination you wish you could still understand.

They also reminded you of the blond boy inside. Especially the room you stood in front of right now.

Almost as if it was second nature, your body made its way to Class 1-A: the place where it all began, the place where you met your closest friends, and the place where you fell inlove.

Opening the door, the lights turned on to reveal a classroom almost identical to the one you walked into every day four years ago. The desks were positioned the same, the posters remained in the same spot, and even the words on the chalkboard seemed oddly familiar.

The room reeked of new paint and textbook papers, and the only thing you really wanted to smell was the designer perfume clinging helplessly to your body so the odors of a high school class don’t even think twice about sticking to you.

Your body walked towards your old desk, Seat 12, the dress you wore clinging to your body as you pulled the chair out and nostalgically sat down. You were a first year all over again, and the thought made you laugh.

You looked embarrassing your first year— as embarrassing as someone who looks like you now can get. From the hideously overheated hair, to the emo phase you still seemed to sort of be stuck in, the world seemed too easy no matter what bullshit was going on the minute you sat down at that desk.

That explained how you felt now— no matter how much your heart yearned to be in the hands of Bakugou, the minute the cold sturdiness of the chair touched your warm body, all of that disappeared. For once, nothing in the world mattered. More precisely, Bakugou didn’t matter.

“Tch, I knew you’d be in here.” Annnddd there goes that.

Your eyes widened, now staring at a smirking blond wearing a black and white tux instead of the chalkboard you once zoned out on.

His arms were crossed against his muscular chest, and the muscles outlined the button up shirt in a way that should just be downright illegal. His face was gleaming with mischief, slowly walking his way over to the empty desk directly next to yours, taking a seat, and positioning his body in a lazy manner with his legs propped up against the table. Just like before.

“You know, this brings back a lot of shitty memories.” He grunted, stretching his arms behind his head and lolling his head to face you.

You nodded in response, glancing your head up to look at the lights in a way to move the gears in your brain to say something. Literally the same thing you used to do during Midnight’s long, tedious classes.

“Yea, a bunch of ones I’d much rather forget.” You said, looking over at him and watching as his eyes stared directly at the window you always found him staring out of when he wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone in class.

“Always hearing your annoying ass mumble and suck your teeth used to really piss me off.” His words were masked with seriousness, trying to hide the playful smirk on his lips you identified much too quickly. With that, a scoff left your lips and you crossed your arms.

“Nobody said anything about the pencil you insisted on tapping for hours straight.” Your jab back made him chuckle, looking back at you with vermillion eyes that made you lose all sense of feelings.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you always forgot what it was like to look at anything before you looked into his eyes. That’s how scary it was— how intimidating it was to be under his presence. His eyes captured you, holding you hostage and probably never letting you go.

“At least we didn’t sit next to each other during our third year,” he began, placing a hand loosely around his tie as he continued to look at you in your eyes, “I don’t think I would have ever focused with the humming you did to the same damn song every day.”

“Yeah, instead of me though, you ended up sitting with your future wife.”

Stupid, stupid, stupid, STUPID.

It was like word vomit, the snarky tone slipping through your lips as if it was trying its hardest to come off in a jokingly manner, only ending up appearing as sarcastic as possible. It was like the words fell from your tongue quicker than you could punch your own esophagus.

Bakugou stood quiet for a moment, staring at you and knitting his eyebrows together as if deep in thought. Your eyes ended up leading you back to the words Relief Fund written messily against the green chalkboard to save your embarrassment.

You didn’t see the frown itching across Bakugou’s lips.

“We aren’t married, ya know. I don’t know why people decided to start that rumor.” He said, a sigh passing by his lips to quiet his tone as if he was scared his girlfriend was around to hear it.

“Might as well marry her. You’re not really the kind of guy that dates just to date.” Your words struck hesitantly in the room in a timid yet informative voice, and Bakugou watched the board as well so that you were both avoiding each other’s gaze.

“Yeah well I’m not sure, marriage is a big deal.” Bakugou was muttering, and the tone of his voice made you crane your neck over to where he was seated as you stood quiet.

What were you, someone who was basically inlove with him, supposed to say that?

You both stood in silence for a few seconds, the words in your throat itching to escape as the remnants of memories you both had both in class and just together in general filled your vision.

“I always hated this seat because I knew it meant that I would always be the person you would argue with.” You began, closing your eyes and releasing a strained scoff from your glossed lips.

You didn’t know what you were doing, or what you were talking about, but as the moon danced across the pale boy’s face and the music in the cafeteria continued to gently ring through the halls, the only thing you were thinking about doing was speaking more than you ever have.

“Morning after morning, I grew used to your loud voice and extremely hostile—” “HAH? I was NOT—”

You sent him a glare, immediately cutting him off and proceeding your weird speech that just couldn’t let anything go.

“Anyways, morning after morning, I ended up looking forward to the words you decided to call me and yell at me about for the day. It’s like, if it didn’t happen,” your arms moved in an animated way, catching Katsuki’s full attention as he looked on to your rant, “I felt like my day wasn’t really an actual day, ya know?

The one thing you loved appreciated most about Bakugou was his ability to listen. And when you say listen, you mean just listen. His ears were perked up in your direction, shoes turned towards you and eyes watching your movements like a hawk.

“And then—” you gulped, pausing for a second in order to think your words though. It was always now or never to you, the drama giving you a sense of hope against a man like that.

It’s either I bring it up now, or I never get to speak my peace, and I refuse to be one of those people showing up to the wedding yelling ‘I oppose.’

“And then it was here that I realized I was the biggest idiot alive by feeling the way I felt about this one person.” You said, eyes glaring at the wall in front of you blankly as you cowered behind the whisps of your lashes.

Bakugou said nothing, but from the corner of you eye, you could see him staring at the side of your face with an expression you had never really see on him.

“I spent years pining after some dumbass that didn’t even see the genuine interest I had in him.” Your words were like alcohol, and Bakugou was too busy drinking them all in to fully acknowledge what you were talking about.

“I watched him give in to this one girl though,” a lightbulb when off in the boy’s head and for once, he felt like the idiot in the room, “a girl that doesn’t even care for him.”

“Y/N..” Bakugou growled, almost as if he was threatening you and warning you to tread on light waters.

If there was one thing he ever respected about you though, it was that you were never scared of him.

Your eyes snapped towards him, a scowl on your face as you began to feel anger bubbling up in your stomach from the way he tried to shut you up. You were finally speaking your peace and he’s too much of a coward to let you finish?

“You know, I thought the first red flag of her trying to change his attitude was enough. I thought that maybe, just maybe, after her telling him that being number one hero wasn’t really tangible, he’d have some common fucking sense and see what everyone else sees.” Your words were like venom, your eyes not leaving his as you huffed in your seat.

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.” Bakugou’s voice was low and angry, laced with anger as he stared at you just as intensely as you stared at him. Your expression never faltered, and instead, you turned your entire body around in the chair to fully face him with arms across your chest.

“I know exactly what the fuck I’m talking about,” you taunted, your anger only rising in value, “and so the fuck do you, Bakugou.”

“You know she doesn’t give a fuck about you and you know very fucking well she’s only with you because you’re Bakugou Katsuki!”

His name slipping off your tongue brought shivers to his spine as he sat up in his seat and glared at you with the tip of his ears painting themselves a light red hue.

He was angry— not necessarily at you, but at the fact that he was getting called out for something like this. He was getting called out for finally being with a girl and was getting shit for it from someone he saw as a best friend.

“You don’t know shit— you don’t even fucking know her.” His voice began to get louder, the bass in his voice causing your heart to vibrate as you shocked both you and him by slamming a hand against the desk in frustration.

“For God’s sake, Katsuki open your fucking eyes!” You only used his first name when your emotions were high, and that made the man’s hands shake in anger as he watched your outburst.

“She forgot your anniversary! She doesn’t make you your favorite food— fuck she doesn’t even kiss you unless there’s a shitty camera around!” You stood up, stomping your feet and watching as he stood up quickly after you and scowled over at your angry face.

“She doesn’t care enough to remember shit that you don’t like which is why you always end up at stupid shit like this and she doesn’t even care to meet your friends!” Your voice was now loud, the music of the cafeteria being long forgotten as you huffed over at him and slammed a finger into his chest at every syllable you spoke.

“You want to know what I think about her, Bakugou? Bestfriend to bestfriend?” The words bestfriend seethed through your lips like venom as your finger dug itself into the middle of his pecks. He said nothing, waiting for you to continue as his hands balled into fists along his sides.

“I think that you’re such a fucking pussy, you can’t fathom being with someone who doesn’t worship the ground you walk on the way she does.” You growled, narrowing your eyes at his angry expression as you took a step closer to him threateningly.

“I think you hate the fact that I’m right— the fact that she blatantly uses you and doesn’t give a fuck about you, and you hate the fact that I know you so well enough to know that—”

Before the last few letters of the words could slip through your lips, a warm hand slammed against your fingers and snatched it into his grasp as he began to huff in anger. The caramel smell only increased, and you could sense his quirk begin to flare the abnormal heat in his hands up every second.

“You don’t know shit,” he growled, his voice raising as he began to yell at you in your face, “you don’t know shit about me!”

“Are you shitting me?!” You exclaimed, grabbing at the hand that grasped yours with a grip so tight Bakugou had to glance at it quickly before reverting his eyes back to yours.

“I’ve known every little fucking thing about you since we were fifteen!” You yelled, tears threatening to spill down your eyes as the anger inside you finally erupted in a way you couldn’t control.

“Nobody asked you to be so invested in my fucking life anyway!” He retaliated, his voice booming through the room as you stared at him incredulously.

“I was so fucking invested in you because I’m fucking inlove with you, you idiot!”

Your voice silenced the room, the grip he had on your hand tightening as he stared at you with shocked eyes yet the same familiar scowl you were used to. Your expression never faltered the way his eyes did when he heard you, though. You stood your ground.

“It’s so annoying seeing the guy you are inlove with be so unhappy in a relationship because he feels as if he has no one else.” Your voice began to quiet down, a tear slipping down your eye as Bakugou watched you with a slightly softened face.

The hand gripping yours loosened a bit, still gripping it to his chest as he wrapped all his fingers around your bracelet covered wrist.

“It’s so annoying watching you try to force someone else to fall inlove with you, when I’ve been inlove with you for free for years. It hurts watching you try to force yourself to be inlove with a girl you know you don’t want to be with. It just fucking hurts Bakugou, so fucking bad.”

There was a crack in your voice that Bakugou knew all too well from the restless nights you’d spend together, and it didn’t take much for him to engulf your frame into a tight hug as he rested his head against yours. You dived into his chest, the familiar warmth wrapping around you in a way that made a few more tears slip from your eyes. You didn’t make a noise, but he knew that you were hurting.

Neither of you said anything, only holding each other until you removed yourself from him and wiped the tears off your face before he could see the evident streams marking your cheeks. He stared at you silently, as if he was contemplating something.

With timid eyes, he watched you fix the straps of your dress to find something to play with under his gaze. The silence was deafening, and was an unusual characteristic for the boy who always had something to say.

“You know she hates me, that’s why you never bring her around me.” You said, a tone of blankness carrying your voice through the room as your tears dried up and was replaced by the anger haunting your heart once again.

“No she doesn’t, she just feels like we’re too close.” Bakugou retorted, sighing and taking a seat on the chair he once occupied. You followed suit, leaning against the back of your own seat as you faced his body.

“Back in high school, I never told you this, but her and I argued in the bathroom once.” You informed, dryly chuckling as you watched his face contort with confusion.

“I told her that her pretty little face and fucked up manipulation wasn’t going to keep you around in the long run.” You stood quiet after letting him know, gulping some saliva down as you averted your gaze from his body to your painted nails. “Guess I was wrong.”

Bakugou didn’t know what to do. There were many things the man was capable of: he could destroy any villain in his way, was braver than any other fucking half assed hero out there, was smart as fuck, and could manage a relationship as well as being a top pro-hero because that’s just who he was.

What he couldn’t do, though, was fully digest the situation in front of him.

He bit his lip, running a hand across his face in frustration and staring meekly at your face. You couldn’t help but admire his frame as you did before. He was strong, well-built, smelled good, had great posture— there was nothing wrong with him. It was almost surreal.

“We’ve been dating for like two years.” Bakugou’s low voice broke the silence as he stared deep into your now glazed over eyes. You didn’t break the contact, hands rested against each side of the seat as you watched him speak.

“I’ve been dating her for two years and yet...” His words were lost, almost sounding as if he was hesitating the very same way you were earlier. You said nothing though, knowing he would stop expressing himself if you had opened your mouth.

“And yet I can’t help but imagine she was someone else.”

It was like every word he said was the last glass of water, and you drank it up against your skin in a way that brought goosebumps to his. You furrowed your eyebrows, silently signaling for him to continue.

“I never told you this,” he mocked your voice, his scowl still resting against his soft face, “but there was a time where I thought about what it would be like if we were a shitty thing.”

Everyone always assumed Bakugou and you would end up together. Whether it be from watching you both pin are each other relentlessly, to watching you fawn over him, and from just watching your interactions with one another— it almost seemed destined for you two to work out. Keyword: almost.

“Shitty Hair and Dunce-Face tell me all the fucking time that I’m an idiot for choosing this girl over you.” He scoffed, and you couldn’t help but feel your stomach tingle at the use of the name ‘this girl’ for his own girlfriend. “It’s not like I wanted to, you were always my first option.”

You stood quiet. The last sentence was lower than the others and sounded way more vulnerable. You couldn’t help but gape at him, repeating it in your brain as if they was the last words you’d ever hear again. You were always my first option.

Maybe it was the buzz you felt from the energy within the room, maybe you were drunk on adrenaline, or maybe you were just being a fucking dumbass, but the way your feet moved you from your seat to the desk he was sitting at was something you just couldn’t stop in time.

Bakugou hasn’t said anything beyond what he just finished as he watched you gently push his body away and hop up onto the desk. Your body was now inches away from his as you watched him shyly. You were always so obnoxiously close to him, so why is it that his stomach was throwing fireballs at his insides now?

“You deserve better, Katsu..” You lowly began, fiddling with the rings on your fingers as you glanced over at his body through your dark eyelashes. “Does she take care of you?”

Your words hit him in the chest and he couldn’t find it within himself to look away from you. He wasn’t sure what it was, or how you were doing it, but he was entranced by your every word and it was scaring the shit out of him. He found himself shaking his head, eyes never leaving yours as the scowl in his face began to soften.

“You’re a strong man, Katsu,” the way his nickname slipped from your lips nearly made him melt, the unfamiliar feelings he was so used to suppressing caused his head to jumble around and process your words, “you need someone who takes care of you the right way.”

You watched him, a hand lifting towards his head and running itself through his soft yet spikey hair. Bakugou always claimed he hated it when you played with his hair since that was something he thought no one was close enough to be able to touch, but he always seemed to lean into you unknowingly.

His chair scooted closer to the table, your legs now in between his lazily opened ones and his body aching to go closer into your touch.

“What are you suggesting?” His dark voice questioned, eyes staring at you as the once softened expression transformed into another of a slowly rising mischievous smirk. You were sure you were breathing earlier, but now? Not so much.

“Are you suggesting that I need someone else to take care of me?” His words hit you hard, your body facing whiplash from all the sudden changes of emotion.

You looked down shyly, trying to find the confidence you once had that was now lost in the gush of your flustered moment, yet Bakugou’s calloused, warm hand then reached up to your chin to perk it up to face his now standing body.

“Are you saying that you should be the one taking care of me?” He asked, staring at your eyes with more intensity than you were fully even prepared for. Your eyes dug into his as the feeling of his hands on your chin caused your brain to short circuit for a moment.

“You said it yourself, I’m a strong man.” You could feel the confidence drip from his words as you bit your left cheek to keep from whimpering at the intensity laced within the empty classroom. “I need someone to take care of me the right way, and I don’t think this girl is doing it Y/N.”

The use of your name caused you to tug your bottom lip between your teeth and blush behind his words. You didn’t miss the way his eyes quickly zipped from your eyes to your mouth, and back to your eyes once again. His body was now towering over your seated one, looking down at you as if you were the only person in the world at this moment.

Bakugou was out of it, to say the least. Usually he felt as if he had control over situations like this, but even with towering over your frame and his hand gripping your chin, he felt as if you were in complete control of the situation. He knew that his current girlfriend was probably coming to look for him, and he knew that everything was inevitable and he was simply just prolonging it.

That didn’t stop him from sliding his hand across your neck to grip the back of it and pull your face in towards him.

A kiss was the last thing you were expecting, and you would have gasped if his lips weren’t putting you in such a trance. It was like everything had stopped, time stopped, the dance stopped, everything was just on a hiatus.

His tongue danced against yours in a way that made you whimper lowly into his touch. His hands explored your body, rubbing against you in exasperated motions as you reciprocated by rubbing your hands across his chest, shoulders, and waist. It was like you were both doing the last thing you’d do before the world came to an end.

His lips moved feverishly across your own as tilted your head upwards to get a more comfortable position. A warm yet equally rough hand snaked it’s way back onto your neck and gripped your throat with such possession, you felt a tingle reach your lower half.

The intensity of the make out was one that put every other sound to shame as the room was filled with nothing but the small whimpers coming from either of you and the sound of your lips smacking against his. It was like a dream, and Bakugou couldn’t control himself any longer as he groaned into your touch.

It wasn’t until a gasp broke the seductive silence within the room, as well as pushed the two of you apart only to see his girlfriend staring at the two of you with wide eyes and a fizzy drink in both of her hands., that you realized something.

Shit just got really fucking complicated.

—

back to masterlist

I wanna have an angsty kiss moment with bakugou

>:( damnit anyways yeah like, reblog, comment, follow! thanks for reading! don’t forget to send some requests in <3

- heilly

[marmosa]

short fuse.

Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: zero proof reading, ha sorry 

A/N: hey guys, so i’m swamped with work rn so my writing process is totally stunted, so i’m sorry about the wait for a new fic. aside from that, i hit 118 followers??? that’s absolutely insane to me that 118 people wanna stick around to see more of my work, it makes me undeniably happy and so proud. So thank you, thank you, thank you. i wanna celebrate somehow, but i’m running dry on ideas. i shot a soulmate!au fred by my best friend and she was keen on it, so i’m leaning towards that, but i do want to celebrate in a way that caters to you guys. so my inbox is open for suggestions and requests while i handle personal obligations. sorry this was a bit of a long a/n, but i just wanna thank you all again so very much for choosing to stick around. it means a lot to me. thank you and enjoy <3

***

“I haven’t got a single clue as to what you’re talking about, she says! That’s a load of rubbish if I’ve ever heard it!”

[y/n] finally laxed and looked up from her hand, furrowing her brows as she continued to blow a soft gust of air onto the drying layer of nail varnish. Her eyes trailed along with Fred who was pacing around her dormitory, his face flushed in anger as he ranted on about some girl in his potions class who happened to piss him off earlier that morning.

“You’d think after Snape chewing our heads off about a less than perfect presentation she’d at least pull some of her weight! And I’m no academic mind you, but I would really prefer to avoid another one of my mum’s howlers this week,” he huffed, finally sitting down in one of the loveseats with an aggressive thump.

“If it’s angering you this much I suggest you either speak to Snape, but he’s insufferable so chance are that’ll bust. How do you feel about me hexing her?” [y/n] offered, offering him a small consoling smile, trying her best to lighten his mood.

It didn’t seem to work as the cloud of frustration continued to thunder above his head, the crease in his forehead more prominent than ever. He dragged his hand down his face and let his head loll back with a grunt, “I appreciate the offer but if I’m forced to another insufferable detention with Snape I’m going to do something awful.”

“What happened to the Fred who spends detention pranking Snape until he’s decided to stop giving you detention simply to avoid having to deal with your pranks again?” [y/n] queried, looking back up from the thumb she’d just fixed up.

“He went and died,” Fred grumbled, sinking further into his chair and frowning.

“Oh shove it, come here,” she waved him over, giving him a demanding stare when he remained deflated in his seat, “I said come here!”

He groaned like a petulant child and slid out of his chair, dragging all his weight as he shuffled over, plopping down onto the floor with a thud strong enough to shake the nail varnish container, earning himself a narrow glare from [y/n].

“Let me paint your nails,” she hummed, grabbing his hand and placing it in front of her without so much as a nod of confirmation.

He remained silent as she got to work, coating his nails in a fine layer of a lovely light blue, humming a small tune to herself as he continued to have the anger peel off him ever so slowly. As soon as she finished the first hand he silently gave her the other, resigning to blow a small gust of air onto the drying paint.

“You’ve gone all quiet, d’ya like getting your nails done?” she mused, grabbing one of the many q-tips spilled across her surface to wipe away at the still wet polish that dripped off the side of his thumbnail.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he mumbled, back-tracking when she squeezed his hand to emphasize that she was just asking him a genuine question, “a little, yeah.”

“Well then you should ask me to paint them more often! I think I did a pretty good job and look-!” she held up their hands together, pressing hers right under his just enough to where you could still see his nails, “we match!”

Fred couldn’t carry his anger anymore, a smile finally creeping its way onto his lips, his eyes crinkling at the edges as he returned the kind gesture. His heart decompressed, his posture relaxing as he blew off his remaining steam.

“See, all better- ah! Don’t move yet, they’re not dry,” she chastised him, bringing his hands back down flat against the surface, earning herself a shocked grimace from him, “sorry, I’d just hate for it to smudge.”

“S’alright,” he blew out a breath of air, his eyes scanning her appearance as she fussed over his nails just to make sure they were still intact.

He felt another smile coming on as he admired her. A concentrated crease in her brow, her hair out of place from the morning past, robes long discarded as she got comfortable despite the school uniform. It was impossible, he thought, to not be in love with her.

“What’re you lookin’ at Weasley? Planning to kill me in cold blood are ya?” she teased, finally content with her scan of his nails.

“If you keep biting at me with all that sass, maybe I will be,” he replied, sticking his tongue out playfully and scrunching his nose.

“Well if you wanna keep coming to me to vent you’re going to have to get used to sass. Besides I’ve known you for ages, this isn’t new, is it?” she queried, cocking her head to the side.

“It certainly isn’t,” he shook his head, “doesn’t mean you should keep doing it. But I rest my case.”

“Good, because we’re gonna be late to class, come on now.”

***

“I like the color mate, where’d ya get that fancy thing done?”

Fred looked up from the parchment in front of him, glancing over to Oliver who’d seemingly already finished up with his charms notes, “oh, it’s uh, [y/n]’s. She painted them for me before class.”

“Nice. Hopefully it doesn’t get ruined at practice today, which is after class don’t  you forget it,” Oliver added, nodding his head as if he’d just aided Fred in avoiding a perilous fate.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Fred chuckled, rolling his eyes at Oliver’s typical attitude.

Oliver seemed content with that answer and went back to his work leaving Fred be. Before he could focus back on his work he felt a piece of paper pelt the back of his head, anger twitching in his temple at the annoying gesture. He glanced behind him and saw the crumpled paper on the floor, looking around the class to see a group of Slytherin quidditch players sitting around laughing amongst themselves.

Fred glowered at them and picked up the paper, unfurling it to see a few insults and some shitty grade-level doodle that insinuated Gryffindor was going to lose the upcoming match later that week. Anger bubbled within him once more as the small gesture relit the fuse [y/n] had supposedly managed to completely put out earlier that day.

Without so much as a side glance he stuck his arm out just enough to where the Slytherin’s could see it and Flitwick couldn’t, muttering a small incantation and feeling the paper burst into flames and reduce itself to ashes in his palm within seconds.

The Slytherin’s had gone and picked a poor day to get on Fred’s nerves as it didn’t take long for another few pieces of paper to be pelted at the back of his head. Unfortunately he had quite literally had it, his stool scraping behind him bringing everyone’s attention to him in the silent class as he thundered over to the Slytherin’s.

He approached them with fury biting into every step he took, his arm surging forward as he grasped the collar of one of the upper year players, a nasty glare painted onto his features.

“You’ve got something you wanted to say to me you slimy bastard?” Fred seethed, his other hand clenched at his side, ready to swing had things decided to take the turn he was anticipating.

“Yeah, didn’t you read the papers?” The Slytherin boy replied smugly, not frightened enough for the immanent danger he was in.

“I would’ve, but none of you are literate enough to form an understandable sentence,” Fred bit back, his brows set heavy on his face, anger practically rolling off him in waves.

The other boy didn’t seem to enjoy having his intelligence insulted, his own chair scraping behind him as he stood up, though it was comical to onlookers just how much taller Fred was than he.

“What’d you say to me, Weasley?”

“I said you’re a piece of shit who’s dumb as rocks.”

That was it. Fists started flying and a ruckus had immediately begun, some students cheering while others called Flitwick’s attention, begging him to intervene in the situation. Being as tall as he was, Fred didn’t have much difficulty tackling the other boy to the ground, taking a sharp swing to his face that landed with a uncomfortably loud thump. The kid cried in pain at that and was finally overtaken by his fighting spirit.

It want on like that for a while, the other kid managing to get in a few hits too, punching Fred in the mouth and landing a nasty kick to the stomach, before Professor Flitwick and another teacher who’d been panic called in finally stopped the brawl.

“Mr. Weasley, enough!” McGonagall snapped, standing in front of him as Oliver and two other Gryffindor’s corralled him to the side and away from the boy who was groaning in pain on the floor.

“But professor he-,”

“Forget detention, you need to be taken to the infirmary this instant! Wood, escort him there immediately and please try not to track blood in the corridors,” McGonagall sighed, exasperated with having to deal with yet another issue, turning on her heel to go attend to the obviously more battered student.

As Fred’s adrenaline finally subsided, pain started to seep into his face and chest, the feeling of fresh blood spilling out of his nose finally registering to him.

“C’mon mate, we’ve got to go before it gets worse,” Oliver insisted, trying his best to forcefully move Fred who was rooted in his place without hurting his injuries.

“Yeah, yeah, right,” Fred nodded, a far away quality to his voice as he and Oliver left the class to head to Madame Pomfrey’s.

***

“Is Fred here? Where is he? Oh, Fred!”

He looked up from the cup of medicine he’d just downed, his face recoiling in disgust at the flavor, eyes sealing shut as he forced it down. When he’d finally recovered from the rancid taste he saw [y/n] barreling towards him, panic glued to her features, her robes billowing behind her.

“Hey, [y/ln],” he grinned, setting the glass down and wincing in pain as he went to uncurl his hands, the knuckles still split open and raw as he waited to have them wrapped up.

“Don’t ‘hey [y/ln]’ me, what were you thinking?” she chided, grabbing a nearby chair and pulling it to the side of his bed, “you look terrible.”

“Hey,” Fred pouted, endeared at her display of worry for his wellbeing, “But you honestly should’ve seen the other guy.”  

“I did and as mad I want to be, you did do quite a number on him. But your hands! Oh dear me,” she sighed shakily, jumping up to go collect some gauze, tape, and disinfectant.

“They’re not that bad,” he mumbled as she grabbed one of his hands, guiding it in her direction ever so gently.

“You always say that,” she clipped, taking a cotton ball out of its container on the nightstand and soaking it in disinfectant, “now just brace yourself, it’s going to sting.”

Before Fred could get a word out he was hissing in pain, collapsing his shoulders inward as his body shivered with the sting. She cooed sweet words under her breath, quickly replacing the cotton ball with gauze to protect the now freshly clean wound. After repeating the same process over again she set his now wrapped hands in his lap, discarding of the used things and returning the tools to their designated spot.

“All better,” she smiled, reaching forward and squeezing the uninjured part of his hand kindly, rubbing her thumb over the tightly wound gauze.

Fred’s heart swelled as he watched her, the fight feeling all the more worth it to have her fawn over him, “Yeah, all better.”

“Madame, he should be free to leave shouldn’t he?” [y/n] asked as Madame walked over, a tray of tools and medications in her hands.

“I’d wish it so. Mr. Weasley please remove your shirt so I can get a good look at your injury,” Pomfrey instructed, setting her tools down on the nightstand, “and [y/n] please move to the other side so I can get to work.

[y/n] passed him a wide-eyed glare as she maneuvered to the other side of the bed, her worry quickly being shoved to the side as he revealed his toned abdomen right in her face. Had circumstance not have been so worrisome, she probably would’ve been all over him, however the school infirmary was the last place she was going to do something like that.

She cast her gaze down, pretending to occupy herself with picking at her nails as she desperately tried to focus on anything but him. She could see him looking at her quizzically, but she still refused to cave and play into her not to so pure thoughts.

“Alright, luckily there isn’t more than a bit of nasty bruising and some small fractures. I’ll go get you another dosage of medication but it’ll require that you stay the night in the infirmary,” Madame Pomfrey nodded, lifting her tray and scurrying away, continuing onto the next ailment she had to attend to.

“Stay the night, rubbish,” Fred groaned, letting his fall back against the railing of the bed with a small thunk, his chest rising and falling softly as he stared at the ceiling.

“Don’t get any bright ideas, you’re staying here or I’ll give you different reason to,” [y/n] deadpanned, folding her arms across her chest as she finally looked up at him.

“And what will you do? Hmm?” He smiled smugly, sitting back up and folding his arms over his chest, his muscles flexing with the movement.

“I-,” her brain ran blank as she quickly averted her gaze, her leg bouncing conspicuously fast, “I don’t know. Something bad probably.”

“Something bad,” he repeated with a lilt, quirking his head to the side, “ is that ‘something bad’ bothering you, [y/n]?”

Her eyes proceeded to grown wider if that was at all possible as she fumbled to find a witty response to snip back at him, but it was no use, she was all hot and bothered and at a loss of words. She resigned herself to a small shake of her head, casting her eyes down to her lap.

“Oh,” he hummed, a smugness practically dripping from his voice, “I get it, you like what you see don’t you?”

“Okay you know what, I think you’re in good hands and you’re going to be just fine on your own and now that I know you’re not dead, I’m going to head back to my dormitory now!” She jumped up, her chair scraping across the floor with an uncomfortable screech as she turned on her heel to leave.

“Now hold on-,” he interjects, grabbing her wrist the best he could with his restricted mobility, tugging her back slightly, “I was only kidding, you know that. I appreciate you coming to check up on me.”

He watched her decompress, her eyes glancing down to where he held her wrist with a tiny smile pulled onto her lips, “Of course, any time Freddie. Now if you’ll excuse me, I actually must go for homework purposes, but I might be back later. Take care.”

“Take care!” he called after her.

***

Fred cozied himself into the covers, the gentle pitter patter of the rain outside the many infirmary windows becoming the background to his thoughts as he tried to fall asleep. With a sigh he rolled onto his back, folding his hands over his chest as he found himself uncapable of falling asleep.

He was bored out of his mind, usually when he found himself in similar circumstances in his dorm he had something on hand to occupy his busy brain. However the infirmary didn’t really provide much to do unless he wanted to get up, steal a stethoscope, and start playing a one-sided game of doctor.

Before he could roll back onto his side and pull the covers closer to his chin to try and force himself asleep, a small outburst of noise drew his attention. As alertness spiked in him, he quietly reached for his wand on his nightstand, wrapping his hand around it and drawing it back under the covers, his mind starting to recite as many defense hex's he could think of.

As he prepared himself to turn around he felt a hand clasp his shoulder and before he could start screaming to try and grab everyone and their mother’s attention, another hand placed itself over his mouth followed by a shushing command.

He turned his head and felt a sudden wave of relief flooding over him as he registered the faux perpetrator, his heart then picking up pace for the same reason.

“Hey,” [y/n] smiled softly, he eyes sunken in a sleepy sort of way. “I’m gonna move my hand, don’t scream.”

Fred rolled his eyes, but nodded none the less, “you could’ve given me a heads up that you were coming, I would’ve tried harder to look more presentable.”

She looked up from her open bag at her side, her brows pushing together as she stared at him with a confused yet amused look, “you look just fine, Freddie. What’re you on about?”

Fred struggled to bite back a laugh, shaking his head as he pushed himself up into a sitting position, the blanket bunching around his waist, “Nothing, nothing- hey, what’d you even come here for anyway? Couldn’t resist being away from me for so long?”

“You wish, Weasley,” she rolled her eyes, thanking her lucky stars that there was a chair nearby and she wouldn’t have to make any extra noise bringing it over, “I’m here to paint your nails.”

“Oh,” he glanced down at his hands, noticing she was, in fact, right about the presumed notion that he needed a repaint, “Are they still gonna be blue?”

“Well, I brought the lot of the varnish with me, I was just going to let you pick,” she smiled, setting the bag down into his lap.

His face beamed as he rolled the tote bag down, revealing the pile of nail varnish containers, a childish grin spreading out on his face as he browsed the collection. [y/n] smiled to herself and prepped the nail varnish remover to get rid of the cracked and chipped polish already on his fingers.

“Can I mix ‘n match?” he quipped, holding up two colors to the moonlight to get a better look at them.

“If you’d like,” she shrugged, “it’s up to you.”

“Sick! Can I do one hand black and one red?” his voice buzzing with excitement.

“Certainly, hand them over and we can start,” she chuckled, taking the two colors and setting the rest at the foot of the bed

She pulled one of his hands to her gently, swirling the cotton ball over his nails to remove the polish. A giggle escape her when he scrunched his nose at the bitter smell of the acetone, the fumes making him blink rapidly as he got used to it.

“Well that’s mad, it feels like that stuff should’ve melted my fingers off,” he breathed incredulously, shaking his head to get rid off the weird buzz that had fanned over his brain.

“It certainly does and unfortunately the effects don’t change, you can never really get used to it,” she sighed, grabbing his other hand, continuing to wipe away at the blue.

The two feel back into silence as she feel into her focused stupor, her lips pursed to blow a small gust of wind to dry the remaining acetone while she shook a bottle of varnish in her other hand. Fred watched her with wide, adoring eyes, absolutely enamored with how dedicated she was to the task at hand. He let her continue on without interjecting, for the first time that night the silence was inviting and he quite enjoyed just hearing the clink of the cap against the bottle and the intermingling of their breaths.

“You have nice hands,” she noted absentmindedly, capping the black varnish and beginning to help it dry, missing the look Fred gave her at the suggestive nature of her compliment.

“Thanks,” he hummed, redirecting his attention to the shiny layer of red on his right hand while she continued to blow air onto his left.

“Of course,” she hummed, “now let me see both of your hands, I don’t want it to be messy.”

Fred complied and shifted his body so he was facing her, setting both his hands in her own while she inspected his nails, her focus so dedicated to her task that she yet again missed the adoring look he was giving her. A smile quirked at his lips as she absentmindedly ran her thumb over his hands, triple-checking that the varnish was indeed dry.

“Well, I suppose that does it,” she nodded, satisfied with her handy work, “d’ya like it?”

“More than anything,” he beamed, “are you going to leave now?”

“Only if you want me to, I don’t have classes tomorrow morning so I have no problem staying up,” she shrugged, secretly wishing he’d request her company.

“That’d be lovely, I was having trouble sleeping anyway,” he nodded.

“Same here. I can imagine it was only harder for you with your injuries,” she noted sadly, glancing over at his still wrapped hands, the gauze looking like it was fresh.  

“It’s not too bad, Madame Pomfrey gave me some painkillers so I’m doing alright. Besides it’s not so bad since I have you,” he added, fiddling with the folded covers around his knees.

Her eyes widened a bit as she processed his confession of sorts, her heart picking up pace in her chest at his vulnerability, her next words coming out in a hush, “That’s sweet, Freddie.”

“I’d hope so,” he whispered, raising his brows as he bobbed his head in an awkward sort of nod.

[y/n] reached forward again and took one of his hands into hers, boldly lifting it to her lips and pressing a chaste kiss to his bandaged knuckles, squeezing his wrist gently. It was all too much for Fred, she’d been too kind all day and here she was sitting in front of him now, kissing his hand and smiling at him all too innocently for how badly he wanted to kiss her then and there.

But he was at a loss of words and she was at a loss of restraint, trailing her lips up so she could press another kiss to the inside of his wrist and then the small divot of his elbow, slowly but surely pulling him forward towards her. Fred didn’t mind it though, he leaned into her with every advance, his breath coming to a stand still in his throat as she neared his face.

Her chair pushed behind her with a faint scraping noise as she stood up to accommodate for their height difference, his hand now intertwined with her own down at her side as she looked him straight in the eyes. The tension in the air was palpable and though she had been taking the initiative all day, he didn’t need anyone to tell him twice just what he needed to do.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked barely above a whisper.

“You most certainly can.”

Though he felt himself surge forward with urgency, the entire thing was as slow and sultry as they could get it. Their lips molded together softly, gentle kisses passed between each of them, quiet endearments passed between each pause for breath before going in for more. Fred cupped the back of her head with his free hand, hers doing relatively the same as she lifted her knee to his side so she could stabilize herself.

The kisses quickly became deeper, not necessarily desperate, but long and drawn out, both of them wanting to melt into the other for eternity. [y/n] wished so desperately that the circumstance were different enough to where she could curve into him, be able to feel over his arms and chest and relish in every inch of him that she’d fallen in love with. Fred similarly thought the same, his hand squeezing hers every so often to remind himself that she was there and this was happening and she was his.

When they pulled away, [y/n] pressed her forehead to his, letting their hands unwind so she could cup his face and he could caress her hips. Their breaths mingled in the buzzing silence, heart’s thumping in their ears as they relished in one another’s presence. She turned her head to the side to pepper kisses against his cheek, tilting it downward to trace loving kisses along his jawline too. He let out a breathy chuckle, feeling bad that he couldn’t just pull her into his lap and show her as much affection as she was showing him, but he knew deep down their current options were limited.

“I adore you Freddie,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to the divot where his ear met his jaw, her fingers moving to card through his hair.

Fred couldn’t believe how utterly at a loss for words he was. It was so unlike him to not have a witty word or two to put in, especially after such a moment that begged for its tension to be resolved. But after the rough day he’d had, he thought it fine to let himself receive rather than give, even if just this once.

“You’re amazing, [y/l/n],” he chuckled softly, moving his hands so they were rubbing her back gently, her shirt riding up every so often with his movements.

“As are you,” she hummed, finally pulling back to admire her lover’s face, her thumb tracing over his jaw, nose, and lips, an adoring gaze melted onto her features.

“Thank you. For all you’ve done for me today,” he added, wanting to emphasize just how appreciative he was of her, knowing he’d hopefully be able to truly make it up to her later.

“That’s what you do for people you love, right?” she smiled, biting back a giggle when his face drew into one of bashfulness.

“I suppose so,” he returned the smile, pulling her face back down for one more savored kiss, a sigh escaping her as she melted into his embrace once more, “now what do you suppose we do for the next couple hours, that is if you intend to stay?”

“Well see,” [y/n] shrugged, “now scoot over that chair is ghastly, I don’t want to sit in it anymore.”

“And were back,” Fred chuckled, obliging her request to make room for her on the bed.

“What?”

“Oh it’s nothing,” he shook his head.

“Yeah, nothing, sure,” she rolled her eyes, crossing her legs under her as she got comfy across from him.

“It is nothing!” he scoffed, kicking her before crossing his legs underneath him.

“Rubbish.”

“I warned you what would happen if you kept giving me sass didn’t I,” he quirked a brow, folding his arms over his chest.

“Maybe you did, maybe you didn’t, we may never know,” she lilted, batting her eyelashes innocently.

Fred exhaled and lolled his head to the side, unable to hide the grin on his face, “whatever, now, I bet you’re wondering how the fight went!”

“Oh yes! But spare the nasty details, I can handle it, I’d just prefer not to.”

“Whatever you say, love.”

[padfootagain]

Infuriating

Here we go for a new fic for my 4.7k event!! Answering the request made by @inkhearthes​ for Sirius using the following prompt (they are written in italics in the fic):

9. "Does it hurt?"

"Not that... OUCH!"

10. "I can't believe you got punched in the face."

"For you. I got punched in the face for you."

11. "It's dark, and it's late, and I'm cold and I'm drenched with this freaking rain and yet all I can think about is that I love you."

34. "Cuddles, cuddles, cuddles!"

It's fluffy. A tiny bit angsty, maybe? I'm not sure, I think it's pretty fluffy.

Anyway, I hope you like it!!

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader

Word Count : 3683

Of course, you had to be duelling against Sirius fucking Black.

Of course, out of all the students in seventh year with you, you had to be paired with the one you hated the most.

You found him absolutely infuriating. 1000% infuriating. The most annoying person on the surface of the Earth, you reckoned.

You had been facing him for five seconds and you were already so mad at his stupid long dark hair, and his bloody cute chin, and his stormy grey eyes that didn't seem to have an end, and those stupid lips you dreamt about kissing…

Argh! Really, he was insufferable!

And why did he even pick you? You knew the reason, of course, it was just to allow his idiotic best friend to try and seduce your idiotic best friend… as if Lily wasn't already just as head over heels for James than he was for her…

And so, you found yourself paired with Sirius fucking Black, of all people, and you wanted to slap this smirk of his away, or maybe kiss it, you weren't 100% sure yet.

Because, of course, you got along perfectly well with Sirius. You were both playful and full of banter, and he was charming despite being an idiot sometimes, and he was smart too, and talented, and very very sweet, and a little dangerous maybe and…

… and you had a crush on him.

Huge, HUGE crush on him, and that was bad. Very bad. Terrible. Especially because the crush you had wasn't really a crush and more like love.

So, you were mad at him. So mad at him for making you fall for him when you never even intended to befriend him in the first place, let alone love him. And yet, there you were. All this because he was just an absolute sweetheart with a stupid sense of humour and a heart of gold despite all the pain he had been through during his childhood, and had cheekbones to die for.

Of course, how could you resist him?

So now, there you were, about to duel you friend, aka crush, aka potential love of your life, and he was acting so smug about it you heaved a defeated sigh.

Both of you knew that you were better at duelling than he was, and you would soon kick his pretty arse, but you almost felt bad for it. You had your bloody, irrational heart to blame for it all.

Your teacher was gone for just a few minutes to fetch something - you were too focused on watching Sirius laugh at that moment to listen to your professor about what he was leaving the room for.

All you knew was that there was no teacher in the room, which quickly turned into some nasty argument between a few students behind you.

Why was your name even brought up in the first place, you had no idea. All you knew was that before you could understand what was really going on, one of the Ravenclaw boys you had rejected a couple of weeks before was shooting nasty comments at you.

But when the word slut rang through the room, the whole situation got out of hands.

"Hey, Trevor, why don't you shut it!" Sirius snapped before you could have time to reply on your own.

"Sorry, Black, What were you saying? Were you talking to me?"

"I told you to shut your stupid mouth! How dare you talk about her like that? Especially you, Trevor, considering that you have the brain of a mandrake: all you can do is whine all day long."

"Say that again to my face, just to see, Black!"

"Oh, but with pleasure…"

"Sirius!" you tried to hold him back as he strode across the room, meeting Trevor halfway, standing chest against chest and taunting each other to hit first.

James and Remus had taken a step towards the boys too, ready to defend their friend if need be.

You walked over the two of them and pulled at Sirius's sleeve.

"Sirius, please. He's not worth it."

"Yes, Black, listen to your girlfriend… oh wait, you ain't together. Yeah, I bet she rejected your sorry arse."

"Coming from you, who can only insult every girl who refuses a date, I find the blow particularly ironic."

"Don't worry though, I bet she's not a good enough shag anyway. Probably aren't worth the trouble…"

"Say one more word and I'll turn you into a toad," Sirius warned the Ravenclaw, grabbing him by the collar of his robes.

He was so blinded by his rage towards the boy that he didn't see anything else in the room.

How could he dare speak of you like this? You of all people? You, who were a literal ray of sunshine, and so incredibly talented, and bright, and kind, and smart, and hilarious, and he was head over heels for you. Sirius was ready to lose his mind with how much he loved you. Had for years. Had since that night in third year where he had caught you making a trip to the kitchens at midnight and had ended up sharing his snacks with you. Since that moment that you had laughed so much you had ended up chocking on your pudding. Since that night when, for the first time, you talked through the whole night. Since that early morning when you had cried when he had told you about how his family treated him. Since the second you had wrapped your arms around him and promised him that if he needed help, he just had to call you, and you would protect him.

And now hearing some idiotic ghoul insult you was making his blood boil so much that he wasn't able to notice anything happening around him, including Trevor's fist flying across the air to land on his cheekbone and make a clear cut through his skin.

Sirius was hitting the floor before he could understand what had happened, and his body had barely hit the ground that you and the rest of the Marauders were pointing your wands towards the Ravenclaw and his friends.

You were interrupted by the sound of footsteps of your professor coming back, though.

"Y/N, get Sirius to the hospital wing," James instructed, but his friend was already back on his feet, shaking his head.

"I'm fine, Prongs. 'S just a scratch."

"You're bleeding," you argued, but he shot you a grin as an answer.

"You should still go," Remus jumped in. "Or we might all end up in detention."

You grabbed Sirius's hand.

"Come on, you idiot."

"Hey!"

But you ignored his protest and dragged him into the corridor and away from the class, heading for the Hospital Wing.

"Now, I'm not sure that if we truly want to avoid detention, going straight to Mrs. Pomfrey would be the cleverest idea," Sirius argued. "Besides, it's nothing."

You had to agree with him on that, going to Mrs. Pomfrey would get both of you in detention. It was pretty obvious by the look of Sirius's cheekbone, bloody and slowly turning from pinkish to purple, that he had been punched.

"I think I can patch you up," you offered, taking a closer look at his bruising face.

"Perfect. Let's go to my dorm then. We won't be disturbed there."

You accepted with a nod, and followed him all the way to the Gryffindor tower and to his dormitory. And the more you walked across the castle, the angrier you were. Sirius was hurt, and it was because of you. You wanted to go back and turn Trevor into a lizard. You wanted to punch him too.

And what was Sirius thinking? Acting so recklessly?

The wound colouring his cheekbone wasn't serious, but it still needed to be cleaned, so he reached for the bandages and bottles of disinfectants that the boys kept for their monthly trip to the whomping willow, just in case.

It's only when he let himself plop onto his bed with a sigh that Sirius noticed that you were glaring at him.

"What's wrong, Y/N?" he asked, tilting his head to the side.

And Merlin, did he annoy you… what was wrong? He was bleeding!

"I can't believe you got punched in the face." You shook your head.

"For you. I got punched in the face for you," Sirius corrected you, waving his finger at you pointedly, a smug smile on his face. "I reckon that you owe me one!"

"Why by Agrippa's name would you do that?" you asked, ignoring his stupid remark.

Because you weren't in the mood for his stupid charm, and his insufferable smug smiles, and his silly humour, and the way he always hid his pain behind wits. You weren't in the mood for any of that, you weren't in the mood for the way he always tried to look tougher than he was, because for so long no one had showed him any other way to deal with his emotions, except by bottling them all up in his chest. And you were tired of his tough act, and all you wanted to do now was shake some sense into his head and make him realize that someone had just hit him, and for what?! Because Trevor had insulted you?! That was most definitely not enough of a reason to get punched in the face.

But he looked at you with a curious frown, as if he didn't understand why you asked that question, as if the answer was obvious.

"He… He was making fun of you. He was insulting you. So, I defended you."

"I didn't ask you to."

"We're friends, you don't have to ask me to. I'll be there whenever you need me."

"Who says I needed you back there?"

He didn't answer, studying your expression with an unreadable look across his features.

Why were you mad?

You didn't say anything more, and reached for a clean clothe instead.

"Does it hurt?"

"Not that... OUCH!"

Sirius bucked away as you harshly pressed the piece of fabric against his wounded cheek.

"Now, don't be a baby," you mumbled under your breath, a deep frown adorning your brow.

"I'm not being a baby! You're the one being as delicate as a cave troll! Besides… what the hell is wrong with you?!"

"What?"

"What is wrong with you? Why are you mad at me?" Sirius snapped, his voice staying low, but his tone as corrosive as acid. "I've just got punched in the face for you, and you're mad at me?!"

"Yes, I am mad at you, Sirius," you replied, throwing the clothe away in exasperation. "I am mad at you, because you got punched in the face! What were you thinking?!"

"I was thinking that you needed me…"

"I don't need you, Sirius!"

The words escaped before you could refrain them, even if they were a mere lie.

Of course, you needed him. That was the point, actually. You needed him safe, and happy, and laughing. You needed his stupid long dark hair, and his bloody cute chin, and his stormy grey eyes that didn't seem to have an end, and those stupid lips you dreamt about kissing…

And you needed the way he always hid his pain behind wits, and the way he made you laugh every morning when you drank your fist swing of tea on purpose just to make you choke on it and look at how mad it made you with that stupid smirk plastered on his lips. And you needed the way he always held the door for you, and how he didn't even ask before he would pick up the mountain of books you were taking from the library for your essays. And you needed the way he said your name in that deep voice of his, and this almost-shy smile he gave you every month when he walked back from Hogsmeade and offered you a bunch of sweets from Honeydukes. Always your favourites. Every single trip to Hogsmeade ever since you had been allowed there during your third year. You needed to hear his laugh ringing through the corridors, so loud that you were aware of his presence way before seeing him. You needed his stupid pranks and his even more idiotic acts of kindness. You needed his broken parts and all his scars if only to help him make them slowly get better. You needed him. You needed him so badly, it hurt sometimes, right there, in your chest, and there was no way, absolutely no way that you would let him endanger himself for you.

You needed him more than you needed your pride or reputation.

Yet, it was the opposite that your tongue formed on its tip as you spoke.

And the words kept on ringing through his mind like a broken record, and it was more painful at each echo of your voice.

I don't need you, Sirius.

Well, that was clear, at least. No need for Sirius to keep his hopes up anymore. He had kept on hoping for you to maybe, one day, feel for him something else than a platonic friendship, but clearly you weren't on the same page. Instead, you didn't need him.

And he hated you, then. He truly did. He hated you, because he wished he could have answered with a remark just as poisonous and painful as your words had been, but he couldn’t. Not that he didn't find the right words, no the problem was more insidious.

He couldn't say it.

He couldn’t, because then, he imagined the pain crossing your features, and he couldn't bring himself to be the reason behind any of your sorrow. He was used to it, really. Being in pain in silence. Taking the punch without saying a word. Swallowing the insults without fighting back. Years of survival skills had developed while he was a child. Now, he was excellent at biting his tongue and imagining what scenarios could come out as a result of his words. He had made progress over his years spent by James's side to loosen up that tendency of his to overthink everything. That, coupled with his natural will to rebel, and he was good now at fighting with both his curses and his remarks. But not to you. No, not against you. He didn't want to use this weapon with you. He knew way too well that words were often way more effective at hurting someone than fists. The wounds cut deeper, and the scars never healed. He knew for certain that he would never forget the look on your face as you said that you didn't need him.

And he couldn't summon the strength to reply with words that would be just as painful. He had just gotten punched in the face for you, after all. That ought to speak about the way he felt for you.

So, instead of replying, he walked out of the room, leaving you behind.

It took you two hours to find him.

It was raining so hard, and the late days of September had brought a cold wind that curved the veil of droplets as they fell from the heavy black clouds above your head. The sun had almost set by now, and judging by how you were hungry, you guessed it was time for supper in the great hall. Your feet were frozen because of the mud that covered your ankles and splashed across your calves.

You had checked the shores of the lake, and Hagrid's home, and the edge of the Forest, and the Quidditch Pitch. But he was sitting a few meters away from the Whomping Willow.

He didn't seem to mind that his robes were covered in mud and drenched by now. Actually, he didn't even react as you hurried towards him.

"Sirius!" you called as you approached him. "What are you doing? It's freezing, and it's raining, you'll catch your death!"

He slowly turned his attention towards you, his grey eyes fixed upon you, his dark locks clinging to his forehead, his neck, his temples, because of the heavy rain. With the sadness in his gaze, he looked like a sad and wet puppy.

"Let's go inside," you mumbled. "You'll catch a cold, or worse. For how long have you been here?"

He took the time to look carefully at you, finding that you were just as drenched as he was, shivering in the cold rain.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, ignoring your own question.

"I was looking for you, obviously," you answered. "Now, come on, let's get you dry…"

"You were looking for me?"

"Of course! You just… disappeared, I was worried sick about you!"

He merely blinked up at you.

You heaved a sigh, swallowing your pride with the lump in your throat. You had to apologize for lying to him, and acting like an idiot, when he had simply tried to help.

You were such an idiot, sometimes…

"Look, Sirius… I'm sorry about what I said in the dorm. I didn't mean it. Please, let's go back inside."

"It's okay. I'm not mad at you," he answered with a soft smile.

"What?"

"I'm not mad. You're right, you don't need me. I was acting as if you did, but I was wrong. I guess… I thought we were closer friends than you mean for us to be. It's okay. I understand."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm used to it, really. It's fine. Sometimes, I start needing people more than they need me. It's alright, I get it."

"No, no… No, Sirius, you don't get it. I was just mad because you got punched in the face, and I was worried about you, and I said utter nonsense…"

"No need to feel bad about all this. It's okay."

"It's not okay! It's not okay, because it wasn't true!"

"Y/N…"

"It's not okay at all, how can you say that it's okay?!" you asked, starting to raise your voice. "I hurt you! And I was mean! And I shouldn't have said that, because it's not true at all! So be mad at me!"

"I… I don't want to be mad at you…"

"I'm sorry!"

"I forgive you, alright… are you, are you crying?"

It's only then that you noticed that hot tears were mingling with the cold rain across your cheeks.

"I'm so sorry. I never want to make you feel like that. I'm so sorry," you whimpered.

"It's… it's alright."

"I was lying. It's not true. Please, don't say that we're not friends anymore. I do need you. I do need you, Sirius. And I hate it! I hate it, but I need you! And it's… It's dark, and it's late, and I'm cold and I'm drenched with this freaking rain and yet all I can think about is that I love you."

You didn't seem to notice your confession as it passed your lips, and for a moment, Sirius wondered if he had heard you right. But there was no mistake, you… you had said it.

You loved him?!

Slowly, he stood up, while you kept on crying.

"I was just mad at you because… because you mean so much to me, and I… I hate to see you hurting. I hate to see you in pain. And I hate it… I hate it when people are mean to you. I'm so sorry. I was so worried about you. I'm…"

But you were shushed by Sirius's arms wrapping around you, encaging you all of a sudden. You needed a few seconds for your brain to register what was actually happening. But it was his arms pressed against your back, and it was his chest against yours, and it was his cheek against yours.

"It's alright," he spoke in a soft, warm voice. "I'm not mad. I forgive you."

Finally, you wrapped your arms around his frame too, your tears finally stopping.

"Thank you, for defending me," you eventually whispered in his ear, your warm breath such a burning contrast with the cold air against his skin, making him tremble in the best way.

"Anytime. We should go back inside though, you're frozen."

"Yeah, I'm really cold."

"You know what… I think we could cuddle. Cuddles, cuddles, cuddles!" he mumbled, making you sway from one foot to the other, and you couldn’t refrain a laugh at his silly behaviour.

"I'd like that," you nodded. "With blankets."

He hummed in agreement.

"But… are we gonna discuss the fact that you've just told me you love me?"

Your heart stopped altogether.

"Did I?" you asked, although you knew perfectly well that he was right.

What had passed through your brain to make you say something like that?

"Yeah, you did."

You looked for the right words to apologize, but Sirius was faster than you to speak again.

"So… What about we go to Hogsmeade together next month?"

You pulled away just enough to be able to look at him.

"Are you… Are you asking me on a date?" you asked.

"Maybe…"

"Maybe?"

"Depends on… whether you'll say yes or no."

"What would we do then, if it's a date?"

"I have a few ideas. Know about a couple of places we could visit. I know you'll like them."

"Already? You already know what we're gonna do? Even if you've literally just asked?"

"Maybe… just maybe… I've been imagining that for a while," he admitted, blushing.

You couldn't help the grin that formed on your lips.

"Really?"

"Yeah… really… but… huh… you have to give me an answer before I get my hopes too high…"

But your grin didn't waver. And when you stared at his eyes, he could read your answer already, without needing you to speak the words.

Still, it was a nice thing to hear, and a nice thing to say, so you answered out loud anyway.

Merlin, Sirius was infuriating. And you loved him so much.

"Yeah, I'd like to go on a date with you, Sirius Black."

 ***********************************************

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[thisissirius]

Would you write a fic about Buck's therapist please. After the new trailer it's something I need.

okay so this.... wasn’t something i was going to write. 

i get requests for this a lot and i just haven’t written for it because it’s a subject that’s really fucking difficult for me. but i had a conversation with my brother that was emotionally taxing and this happened. 

this is not going to be the fic for everyone, and it’s written with my own experiences and feelings in mind, so it might not be .... the best read. but this is the fic that i wish i had written back when i watched episode 2, but then we wouldn’t have had eddie so.... anyway. 

grace under pressure [ao3 link] buck, buck/eddie, consent issues. hurt/comfort. 

“I had sex with her.” Buck stares down at his hands. “I was on her couch. She—”

“Take your time.”

“It was just sex, you know? She friended me on Facebook.” Buck winces, eyes darting across the person in front of him, to the clock on the wall. Forty-five minutes. Just get through this and he’ll be outside. “Before—before the appointment.”

Silence. 

“One minute she was helping me, and the next,” he trails off. “The next we were having sex.”

The worst thing is how people look at you. 

As if in that small strip of time between not knowing and finding out, you’ve changed. 

______________________

“January 10th, 2018,” Buck says. 

Everything stops. 

“How do you even know that?” Hen asks, frowning. 

Bobby’s watching him, and Buck knows he’s working out, going back to whenever that was in his head. 

“After Devon,” Buck says. 

“Fuck,” Chim says softly. 

Eddie narrows his eyes. “You didn’t go after the truck bombing?”

“I mandated it,” Bobby says. 

“I know,” Buck says, tapping his fingers on the table. “I did that text thing. Where you can talk to them over text.”

Bobby’s lips thin and Buck knows they’ll be talking about it later. If he can get out of this conversation in one piece. 

“So who,” Hen starts. 

“Nobody,” Buck says. It’s true, in a way. “She was nobody.”

Conversation lapses and it doesn’t start up again until they’re lounging around the loft, Buck on the couch, Bobby making something in the kitchen. Buck doesn’t know where the others are and he can almost feel the tension in the room ratchet up several notches. It makes his skin crawl. 

“Bobby,” he says, knowing it’s useless. 

“What happened?”

Buck opens his mouth, closes it. “Nothing.”

Though frustrated, Bobby curbs his irritation, schools his face. Buck’s impressed; it’s the fastest Bobby’s gotten over his exasperation. “Buck. You can tell me.”

“No,” Buck whispers. “I can’t.”

Silence. 

“We had sex,” Buck blurts, because it seems like the easiest thing. 

Bobby’s expression is careful. “Okay.”

“Not,” Buck starts, licks at his bottom lip. “Not before or after. During.”

“During what?” 

Buck’s head jerks up. Eddie’s standing at the top of the stairs, duffle bag over one shoulder. 

“Buck was just telling me about his plans,” Bobby tries. 

Eddie’s been Buck’s best friend for two years. If Buck can’t tell him then how can he— 

“The reason I won’t go to therapy,” Buck says, looking Eddie in the eye. A numbness spreads from the center of his chest to his fingers, toes. 

“Buck,” Bobby starts. 

“I had sex with my therapist.”

Silence. 

Horrible, deafening silence. 

______________________

Forty minutes. 

“Why didn’t you tell anybody?”

Buck shrugs one shoulder. “Tell them what? They knew I was fucking around. Literally. Why would sleeping with my therapist be any different.”

“But you know now it’s wrong?” 

“No,” Buck says honestly, clenching his hands into fists. “It doesn’t feel wrong. It just feels like we had sex.”

______________________

“Stop saying that,” Buck snaps. 

“It’s what happened, Buck,” Hen says carefully. 

“If you don’t want to hear it,” Chim starts, holding out his hands. 

Careful. Defensive. Like Buck’s the one who’s going off the rails when it’s because they’re acting like— 

“Like what,” Eddie says. His voice is level, eyes piercing.

Buck runs out of steam. He curls his fingers around the railing, stares down at the trucks. He’s saying things he doesn’t want to, that he doesn’t even realize he is, and he just wants everyone to go away, to pretend that today’s some horrible dream. 

“Buck,” Eddie says, louder, approaching from the left. Buck can see him out of the corner of his eye and Buck thinks it’s deliberate. Fuck. “How are we acting?”

“Like I was assaulted.” Buck’s voice is a whisper, words dropping like heavy stones. 

“It’s what—” Chim cuts himself off. 

“Give us a minute?” Eddie asks. His tone is authoritative, strong, and even Bobby moves away from the kitchen.

Buck’s hands won’t unfurl from the railing. 

Pressing up against his side, shoulders touching, Eddie looks down at the trucks, fingers mere centimetres from Buck’s. “If Chris came home and told you his therapist had sex with him, what would you say?”

The breath is punched from Buck’s chest. Time seems to slow. “Don’t,” he says, voice cracking on the word. “Eddie.”

“Hey.” Eddie’s voice is gentle but his touch is not, peeling Buck’s fingers from the railing, free hand against Buck’s neck. Buck still can’t breathe and he doesn’t know what to do. “Buck—”

“It’s different,” Buck continues, looking at Eddie’s shoulder so he doesn’t have to look him in the eye. “Chris is a kid. He can’t—he wouldn’t know how to say no.”

“You know that doesn’t matter?” Something in Eddie’s voice forces Buck to look him in the eye. “Devon had just died,” and Buck forces himself past those memories, “she was in a position of power. It’s against the law.”

______________________

Buck imagines he can hear the clock ticking. 

“Systematic grooming is different from just one session,” Buck says slowly. “We didn’t really talk much. Had sex and just—she told me to leave. Said it was unprofessional.”

“You researched afterwards?”

Nodding, Buck picks at an invisible thread on his pants. “I like to do that. Eddie says it’s to work through my trauma,” Buck makes a face, unable to stop a small smile when he thinks about Eddie’s expression. 

“You don’t believe that?”

“No, I do,” Buck says quickly. “I just think the research is wrong.”

A pause. “Because you were assaulted.”

“I wasn’t,” Buck snaps. “It was just sex.”

  ______________________

The truck is still running. 

Buck stares at Eddie’s front door. “Aren’t we going in?”

“We can,” Eddie says slowly. He doesn’t move. 

The silence stretches thin, taut and breakable. “Please don’t make me talk about it.”

Eddie breathes slowly, reaches across the center console and hesitates before resting his hand on Buck’s arm. “Whatever you need.”

Buck meets his eyes, almost breaks under the scrutiny. “Don’t treat me like—I’m not different.”

Dropping his hand, Eddie’s fingers curl around the steering wheel. His knuckles are white. Buck’s oddly fascinated with the twist of Eddie’s mouth, angry and tense. “The others all knew you then.” It’s not what Buck’s expecting and he swallows. “I only know Buck 2.0,” Eddie’s mouth twists again. Buck knows he hates that moniker. “Never once,” Eddie continues, staring at the light spilling onto the tarmac from the truck, “did I think anything like this.”

“Yeah, well,” Buck starts. 

“How long have you known?”

Buck pauses, stares at the center console. There’s loose change from when they took Chris to the ice cream parlor. A chapstick that Eddie claims isn’t his. A button that tore off of Buck’s jacket. “I looked it up after. If it was—”

“—your fault,” Eddie finishes. “You’re not different.” The shift makes Buck pause, wondering where Eddie’s going with this. “Or if you are, it’s for good reasons. Not bad. This is on her. Not on you.”

“I said yes,” Buck says, slowly, so Eddie gets it. 

Eddie swallows, scratches at the steering wheel with a fingernail. “Do you really believe that? Or are you scared of what it means if you do?”

Buck stares out at the driveway, breathing swallowed by the sound of the engine, and presses a hand to his chest.  

______________________

“Why does that word make you angry?”

Buck doesn’t do either of them the disservice of asking which word. “Because it wasn’t. I consented. We were having sex. I had fun.”

“What does Eddie say?”

Frowning, Buck says, “Did you speak to him?”

“No. You mentioned him earlier—I wondered if you had told him.”

“I did,” Buck says. “I was trying to tell Bobby, my captain, and he was there. I didn’t know but he’s my best friend. I couldn’t lie.”  

“Would you have?”

“He never would have known. I could have kept it a secret as long as I wanted.”

“Have things changed?”

Buck snorts. “How can they not?”

Silence. 

“He asked me if I was scared,” Buck continues. That night in the truck, Eddie’s blank expression, the sound of the engine rumbling in Buck’s head. “Wanted to know if that’s why I won’t say—that it’s anything except sex.”

“How did you react?”

Buck stretches out his legs. There’s faded marks on his jeans from kneeling on the floor; always playing with Chris, or taking him to the park, or, or, or. “Eddie’s got a son.” Buck’s gaze flickers up, but the change in subject doesn’t seem to make a difference. “Chris. He’s nine. Amazing kid, strong. I keep thinking,” Buck continues, forcing words past the sudden lump in his throat, “what if it had been him. Eddie asked me when I told him what I would do.”

“Hmm. What would you do?”

Throat tight, eyes burning, Buck looks at the clock. Thirty minutes. Fuck, it’s taking too long. He doesn’t know if he can do this. 

“Buck?”

“Chris is a kid,” Buck blurts out. “If some therapist had sex with him, I’d want them in prison.”

“If it was Eddie, then.”

Buck’s chest squeezes tight. “What?”

A shift. “If Eddie came to you, told you that he’d had sex with his therapist.”

The thing is— 

Buck knows it’s illegal. The knowledge is there, bouncing around inside his head. If Eddie ever tells him that, ever confesses, words spilling between them like bile, Buck will know. Someone’s taken advantage of Eddie. Assaulted him. 

“I’d think,” he starts, can’t continue. 

“Why do you think you’re different?”

“Because,” Buck says. His lungs burn, air clawing its way out of his throat. Suddenly, with a veracity that surprises him, he wishes Eddie was sitting next to him. “I don’t know.”

______________________

“I love you,” Eddie tells him, leaning in the doorway. He’s wearing a threadbare shirt, pants that ride low on his hips. They’re sleeping in separate rooms for the first time in—Buck doesn’t know how long. Not because Eddie wants it, but because Buck can’t stand to see the way Eddie looks at him, doesn’t want to feel trapped. 

Buck nods, clutches the sheets in his hand. “I love you too.”

Eddie’s silent. 

“I do,” Buck says, quietly. “I love you, but I need space.”

“I’ll give you whatever you need,” Eddie replies, eyes searching Buck’s face. “You know that, don’t you?”

Buck doesn’t answer.

______________________

“How do I make myself believe it’s assault?”

“It’s a process.” The reply is soft, understanding. “All the conviction from people you love and trust can’t make you change your mind if you don’t believe it. You’ve researched, you’ve heard it, and you’ve said it out loud; a power imbalance is dubious consent at best, nonconsensual at worst.”

Buck leans his forearms on his knees. Fifteen minutes. Now the time seems to be going too quickly, speeding away from him faster than he can keep up. “That doesn’t answer the question.”

“I can’t give you a definitive answer, Buck. There is no right answer. Perhaps you will never believe it. Or you already believe it, you just don’t want to.”

Closing his eyes, Buck scratches his hands into his hair. “Everything changes.”

“Has it?”

______________________

Sunlight hits the windscreen of the truck. 

Buck winces, shields his eyes. Eddie’s in the driver seat, scrolling through his phone. There’s a few stickers on the back window that Chris put there, giggling and ignoring Eddie’s lamentation about his new truck. Drinks bottles and paper are littered over the back seat, various artwork from Chris and scribbles about his and Buck’s plans for a new fort in the backyard. Buck’s spare keys in the center console, a picture of the three of them taped to the back of the visor. 

Opening the door to the passenger side, Buck slides in quietly. 

“It feels like everything’s changed,” Buck says. 

Eddie waits. 

“Something between us changed, but that was me, wasn’t it?”

“No,” Eddie says slowly, a sad smile on his face. “I didn’t want it to, but you can’t expect me to hear something like that and not change. I’m angry at her. At you for not realizing. That’s selfish, I know it is, but you do all this research.” Eddie trails off, reaches out and takes Buck’s hand. “I still love you. I want to protect you. I want you to protect yourself.”

Love crushes all of the negativity crowding Buck’s head. “I’ll come back next week.”

Buck knows he’s not imagining the relief in Eddie’s eyes. “Okay.”

“I still don’t think it’s assault,” he falters on the word but says it, a small victory. “Maybe I will after this,” he continues, waving a hand at the building, “or maybe I won’t. I just want to go home, hug Christopher, and watch a movie.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do,” Eddie says, starting the truck. Before the pull away, he raises his eyebrows. “But don’t think you get to make these decisions every day.”

Buck laughs, turning to look out of the window. Maybe his thoughts scatter, some dark, some light, but his smile doesn’t falter all the way back to the house. 

[shirtlesssammy]

4x02: Are You There God? It’s Me, Dean Winchester

Then:

Dean Winchester is saved

Now:

Olivia, a hunter, wakes to cold air and flickering lights. She runs for her shotgun just as Bobby leaves a message on her answering machine. 

Her EMF is going nuts as she patrols her house. Suddenly ghosts that she recognizes give her the one two punch and she’s a goner.

At Bobby’s, Dean is vehemently denying that he was “groped by an angel.” Bobby’s got lots of lore on angels, though. It seems they’re the only thing that could pull a human soul from Hell. 

Sam thinks it’s a good thing that Dean was saved “by one of the good guys.” And Dean wonders if there is a God. BABIES. Dean’s having a hard time believing there’s a god out there that personally believes in him. Oh, buddy, he cares just a little too much, I’d say. Dean’s self-loathing is off the charts though. And this is getting way ahead of myself here, but even though Chuck cares in the sense that Dean is a fun little puppet for him, it’s Cas that really cared all along. He believed in Dean so much, he gave up everything for this man. BIG SIGH. 

Dean demands pie before digging into the angel lore.

Sam runs off to forget get the pie, when he sees Ruby lurking. She wants to know if the angel stuff is real. Ruby’s scared for her demon life and takes off.

Sam gets back to Bobby’s in time for all three of them to take off to investigate why Olivia isn’t answering Bobby’s calls. Also, he forgot the pie.

They find Olivia disemboweled on her bedroom floor. And Bobby can’t get a hold of any nearby hunters. They check them out to find everyone dead. 

They need to get back to Bobby’s to regroup.

Sam’s getting gas for the Impala while Dean sleeps. He makes a pitstop in the gas station restroom. The room suddenly gets cold and Victor Henrickson appears!

He blames Sam for his death. He starts to attack Sam but Dean comes in with a save and a shotgun.

Bobby meanwhile is haunted by a couple giggling raggedy twin girls. Fun! 

Sam and Dean race back to Bobby’s. They can’t get a hold of him so they enter his house with shotguns ready. The boys separate and while Dean checks out the upstairs, Sam heads outside. 

Dean runs into the ghost of the woman who was once Meg Masters. 

She blames Dean for her possession...and Dean hates himself enough to actually believe it all. It wasn’t your fault, dude. Also, as much as they’ve learned about demon possession and all, if they would have met Meg at any point in the future, they would have just stabbed her with Ruby’s knife and she’d be dead anyway. Idk, saving people is good in theory, but hard in practice for these guys. I also know this is a manipulation. “Do you know what it’s like to be ridden for a month by pure evil?” HE DOES! Leave him alone! 

Meanwhile, Sam’s trying to find Bobby outside. He’s currently being held down by a couple scary ghost twins. 

Ghost of Meg continues to taunt Dean, and pins her sister’s suicide on him as well. MEG. NO.

Outside, Sam finds Bobby trapped in an old scrap car. He helps break him out and together they swing iron through the ghost girls. 

Dean drags himself away from Meg, and aims his gun at the iron chandelier up above. DAMN BOBBY that’s some fancy light fixture work! The chandelier smokes Meg out...for now. 

Back in Bobby’s living room, they realize that all the ghosts had a brand on their hands. Bobby hauls out the lore and leads the Winchesters down to...dun dun DUN...his safe room. 

We get the grand tour because this is the FIRST TIME WE’VE SEEN IT. This safe room has everything! Iron! Salt! Devil’s traps! Lore! Racy posters! Booze! Weapons! The vanished hopes and dreams of Dean Winchester! A cot complete with restraints! The Winchesters are impressed. 

Later, Dean breaks into a theological monologue while making salt bullets. My sweet sunshine! How dare you speak my love language! “If [God] doesn't exist...fine. Bad crap happens to good people. That's how it is. There's no rhyme or reason - just random, horrible, evil. I get it, okay? I can roll with that. But if he is out there, what's wrong with him? Where the hell is he while all these decent people are getting torn to shreds? How does he live with himself? You know, why doesn't he help?” (Because, sweetie, freedom is a length of rope and God LITERALLY wants you to hang yourself with it.)

Bobby finds the brand - it’s the “mark of the witness.” They’re ghosts forced to rise and destroy people. In fact, the Rising of the Witnesses is part of an ancient prophecy. A prophecy of...DOOM. It’s a sign of the apocalypse. Dean suggests coping with a series of wish-fulfillment trips including: Grand Canyon, Star Trek Experience, and the Bunny Ranch. Somebody please write me that fic. Instead of Dean’s plan, Bobby suggests running an ancient ritual to shut down the witnesses. To do so, they first have to race out of the panic room to gather ingredients before the ghosts have a chance to yank their insides outside. 

Ronald from the bank heist greets them at the stairs. Bobby blasts away Dean’s guilt ghost for him, and we cut to a montage of spell preparation. The three of them split up to fetch supplies. Ghosts appear to torment them. 

Meg appears to Sam, only she KNOWS more than she should. She knows about Sam’s fraternization with Ruby. 

In the kitchen, Victor appears to Dean. He reveals that after the Winchesters left, Lilith gruesomely tortured those left in the station for almost an hour before blowing up the place. While Dean absorbs this fun fact, Victor makes his move, plunging his hand into Dean’s chest.

Sam saves Dean just in time with a well-aimed salt round. They start the ritual, Bobby’s living room teeming with ghosts. Bobby chants while the Winchesters play shotgun whack-a-mole with the ghosts. Meg jabs a hand into Bobby’s chest. Bobby drops the bowl and Dean dives for it like it’s a football, then tosses the spell into the fire to finish the job. 

That night, Dean wakes from his slumber.

Castiel stands waiting for him (watching him sleep??) in the kitchen. He congratulates Dean on their triumph over the witnesses, and announces that he has already started doodling Mister Castiel Winchester in his notebooks! 

Dean feels a little raw about nearly dying (again) and wonders why angels are total dicks. “Read the bible,” Cas advises. “Angels are warriors of God.” Oh, and also? He’s not here to PERCH ON DEAN’S SHOULDER. Oh honey sweetie baby. 

Dean tries to read Cas the riot act and rails against God’s shitty parenting. 

Cas: The lord works…

Dean: If you say "mysterious ways" so help me, I will kick your ass

Cas warns Dean that big...no, cosmic things are afoot.

The Rising of the Witnesses is one of sixty-six seals that Lilith is busily unlocking. Each seal is a lock holding Lucifer in his cage. Dean has trouble believing that Lucifer is even REAL. Sassy Cas smiles. “Three days ago you thought there was no such thing as me.” 

Cas tells Dean that Heaven isn’t infinite. Angels have died in the battle so far, and more may be at risk. (Excuse me while I weep for the next twelve seasons. There have been 0 days since the last angel mishap.)

“You think the armies of Heaven should just follow you around?” Cas asks, telegraphing his series story arc. “You should show me some respect. I dragged you out of Hell. I can throw you back in.” Cas flaps out.

Dean wakes up for realsies. WAS IT ALL A DREAM? He asks Sam if he believes in the Devil…

You Should Show Me Some Quotes:

All I know is I was not groped by an angel

If there is a God out there, why would he give a crap about me?

When have I ever forgotten the pie?

Where’s the pie?

I thought angels were supposed to be guardians. Fluffy wings, halos -- you know, Michael Landon. Not dicks

 Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!

[1kook]

distractions

jeon jungkook x (f) reader

summary: “Soft.” / “No shit,” you say, “you’re deep between my boobs.” tags: gamer kook, soft bf jeon, extensive knowledge of the MCU (Mario Cinematic Universe) warnings: nsfw; mostly tit play, dry humping, slight praise, jizzing in ur pants like ur fifteen again wc: 3k barely 

when u have 34827 other fics to finish but ur brain hyper focuses on this image at 1 in the morning. not proofread bc idk ppl 

ty for all the nice comments on skirt chasers btw<333

There were a lot of things about Jungkook that you didn’t learn until you were official. Like the fact he rarely matches his socks unless they’re cool socks. Or that he prefers his pancakes pre-drizzled with syrup. Not necessarily bad things, just aspects the general public wouldn’t normally see. In fact, the worst “trait” you’ve learned about Jungkook in the past year is how easily distracted he can get. Nothing crazy, just tiny actions, like forgetting to eat for three hours because he refuses to leave his Wii until he can beat the guys in three rounds of Super Smash Bros. Ultimate in the Mushroom Kingdom stage. Strangely specific, but it’s Jungkook and you’ve long since learned he’s an enigma.

Times like now, when you creep up behind him as he continues screeching into his headset, voice cracking every now and then in that adorable way it does when he’s overwhelmed. You are no stranger to Jungkook’s apartment, having visited more times than you can count, and even dropping by and doing a little dusting while he was on tour. However, you’re surprised you can see the back of his coconut hair from the low backing of his new computer chair. He’d told you he recently threw away his big leather, super villain gaming chair because it’d started to tear, but it was a fact you hadn’t really paid much attention to.

Now, however, you’re feeling a little happy he did, because it means you can slide your palms around his shoulders in somewhat of a back hug. It’s way better than having to walk all the way in front of him, and you bite down on a grin when he mutters the softest “hi, baby.”

“Which stage are we battling on today?” You murmur, pinching the tip of his mic to twist it away. Faintly, you can hear Taehyung’s voice shout a greeting your way.

Another button smash of his remote, hands enveloping the tiny device. “Wii Fit Studio with Wario,” he replies, eyes flickering across the screen like his life depends on it. You snort.

“I thought you hated Wario,” you point out, and move with him when he jumps after being shot off the screen.

He looks at you for the first time as he waits for his character to respawn. “Changed my mind. He’s just misunderstood. Listen to my theory, babe,” he starts, and you let go of him because you have the back of a ninety year old war veteran and can only hunch over for so long. You take up a very bodyguard-esque position behind him, watching him play and gently pressing your thumbs into his shoulders. “Imagine this. You’re a kid trying to have fun and this other kid who looks exactly like you but better is somehow also cooler than you.”

You hum, letting go of his shoulders to toy with his hair. You pull it into a makeshift ponytail and giggle, not that Jungkook minds, too immersed in his game and his sudden loving Wario speech to care. “Then, you get older and this same dude is still getting all the credit for being exactly like you. On top of that, his little brother is doing the same to your little brother! I’d be so pissed.”

You let his hair drop, and then quickly brush the strands away from his face when he whines. “Uh huh. But theoretically speaking, aren’t you the Mario of your little universe?” Jungkook is silent. “If we’re going by your little story, I hardly doubt there’s another Jeon doing better than you,” you point out.

Jungkook’s Wario gets blown off the screen for the last time, and he’s left blankly staring at the screen. You poke his neck. “I don’t wish to discuss this further,” he says rather matter of factly. You laugh, shaking him and his seat. “Baby, why would you say that!” He cries.

You smile, flicking the switch on his headset before pushing it off his head. Jungkook moans again, head lolling back to glare up at you. “I finally come to terms with the fact that Mario is the true asshole, just to find out I’m Mario? Fucking absurd.”

You roll your eyes at his dramatics, fingers dancing down the stretched column of his neck. “Listen, no one told you to go out and create an entire deep backstory for the Mario Cinematic Universe.”

He scoffs, eyes fluttering shut as he continues basking in your soft caresses. “The MCU,” he chuckles under his breath. On screen, Taehyung is still fighting with whoever else they were playing with tonight, a little Isabelle and Dark Samus dancing across the screen.

Meanwhile, you’re still absentmindedly running your fingertips along Jungkook’s skin. For a second, you think he’s asleep by the deepening of his breaths, his body so soft and relaxed beneath your touch, but then he gets one of those weird twitches of his, and pushes his head between your breasts.

“Ah,” he sighs, eyes still shut. “Soft.”

“No shit,” you say, “you’re deep between my boobs.”

The little shit snuggles closer at your words. “My favorite place in the world,” he croons, and you pinch his neck for his stupidity. “Tell me when they’re done,” he mumbles, sounding as if he’s actually gonna fall asleep.

You relent, continuing your gentle massaging of the muscles in his neck as you tune into the match on screen. You’re not exactly sure which one Taehyung is, but your gut tells you he’s probably playing as Isabelle, so you root for her. You’re weirdly into it, jumping every time a good spar happens.

By the time the match ends (literally only like 4 minutes later) and you check on your boyfriend, he’s snuggled his way between the valley of your breasts, his cute nose poking out from between. “Oh my god,” you sigh, having to take a momentary pause to collect yourself from the sight.

Jungkook giggles.

“Well. Taehyung’s done,” you inform him, and he hums though he doesn’t really seem to care about Smash anymore. His hands go slack around his remote, crawling up to dwarf yours.

He sighs, sounding so happy with himself. “Baby, you’re so soft,” he hums, and you try desperately, and you mean desperately, to ignore the sudden drop of his voice, his hands ever so gently tangling with yours.

You try to hit him with the facts, because you know where this will go if you don’t. “Well, breasts are made up of mostly fatty tissue, and lobes for producing milk,” you inform him.

Contrary to your goal, the handsome smile that envelopes his face has you fighting down the curl in your stomach. You can never win.

“You know I love when you talk anatomical to me,” he purrs, and it takes everything in you to not punch him straight in those pearly whites.

You don’t have enough time to respond, too caught up in a mental pep talk to re-evaluate what your body considered attractive. Jungkook’s corny jokes should definitely not be high on the list, but your rock hard nipples said otherwise. “So, you gonna let me suck on them or what?”

“I hate you,” you groan, reaching over to completely unplug Jungkook’s headset because you were absolutely terrified of creating an accidental porno with your celebrity boyfriend.

Jungkook chuckles. “No you don’t,” he teased, finally wiggling his way away from you to whirl his seat around. “Could feel your nip nops pressing into my forehead. No bra today? She’s bold.”

“She’s bold and embarrassed that her boyfriend calls them nip nops,” you sigh, climbing into his lap. His remote presses hard against your thigh, and you yelp before he tugs it out and throws it on the desk behind him. Vaguely, you register the screen lighting up behind Jungkook, but then he’s nudging your shirt upwards.

He’s barely brushed his hands against you, but you’re already shivering and squirming in his lap. “Relax for me, baby,” he assures you, a new depth slowly creeping around his words. “Gonna take care of you, alright?”

You nod, breath already caught in your throat just from the way he looks at you. He flashes you another smile, bunny teeth slightly pressed against his lower lip, before he’s pushing your shirt above your chest, and marveling at your boobs.

You don’t miss the way his gaze becomes glossy, eyes hyper focused on the rise and fall of your chest. Just as you’re about to urge him to do something, he’s reaching up to brush his thumb around your nipple. “Oh,” you blurt out, the skin around your nipple rising with goosebumps.

Jungkook lets out a soft huff of air at your reaction. “So sensitive. Bet I could make you come just by touching your tits, baby.”

You scoff, choking back another sound when he does the same to the other nipple. “I wanna say I doubt it, but I feel like you’ll prove me wrong,” you retort.

At this, Jungkook smirks. “Oh, so now it’s an expectation?” He smiles, and it’s the last angelic side of him you see before he’s ducking down and latching his supple lips around your breast.

Immediately, your back arches forward, hands scrambling to grip onto his shoulders as he licks across your breast. “J-Jeon, wait—“ you cry, body shaking at the way his tongue dances around your nipple.

Your hands tangle themselves in his hair, tugging and twisting it as he flicks his tongue back and forth, knocking it against the hard pebble. You moan, and almost choke when he pulls away with a lewd pop.

His lips are glossy from his own saliva, red from the friction. He’s looking at your glistening breast like a starved man, thumb returning to glide over his own messy artwork. “So pretty,” he hums, Puckering his lips to blow a soft tuft of air against it. You shiver. “Aren’t you the softest little thing,” he says, one hand falling to your waist and gently easing you closer to his crotch. His sweatpants do nothing to conceal how he’s feeling.

You hate to admit how your insides had turned into a Fruit Gusher the second he started sucking on your boob, and now that you think of, you'd be absolutely embarrassed if you did come from just this.

As if sensing your inner turmoil, Jungkook meets your gaze. “I fucking knew it,” he says, slightly out of breath. You furrow your eyebrows, to which he pointedly raises his and gestures to his crotch. “You started pressing down so hard on me the second I got my mouth on you,” he brags, and as if to punctuate his statement, grinds his hips upward into you. “Did sucking your titty make you that wet, doll?”

Your cheeks flush at his words. Belatedly, you nod, your eyes falling to his lips that quirk up into a smile. “Oh, you’re just so desperate to be touched, aren’t you?” He continues, and then reaches up to pinch your nipple between two rough fingers.

You gasp, body arching into him. The pain is new, but definitely welcomed. “Yes,” you cry out, hand reaching out to grapple around his wrist. Though you try to tug it away, it feels disgustingly good and you know he knows, which is why he gives it a slight tug.

Finally, when he lets go of you, he doesn’t hesitate to lower himself down by your other, ignored breast. “I wanna see you cream your shorts, okay? So I’m gonna suck your other titty until you’re near tears, baby,” he states, before giving you a soft push of his hips.

“Please, be gentle,” you choke out, words stuck the moment he wraps his lips around you. This time, he’s ruthless with his tongue. He traces it all over, tonguing your nipple like a lollipop. It feels nice, the wet caress, that you don’t see that bite coming at all. You moan, body unconsciously pushing away from him in surprise.

“Nuh uh,” Jungkook tuts, strong arms wrapping around your lower back to bring you back into his embraces. This closer position has your core pressing down directly over his dick, and the sudden double stimulation has your vision momentarily going white. “Gonna give you a pretty little bite right under your tit, doll,” he announces, and in a scary act of trust, presses his fingers into your spine until you’re staring at the ceiling, the only thing supporting you his strong arms. He nudged your breast with his nose until he finds the perfect spot to place his impromptu hickey.

It’s right against the bottom curve, where your skin folds over, that he settles on. “Need you to to sit nice and still for me. You can do that, right baby?” Jungkook says, big doe eyes looking up at you. You nod your head quickly.

His teeth are cold, unlike the rest of his mouth. “Jungkook!” You moan, toes curling and thighs attempting to clamp shit. They hit the outside of the chair instead, slightly squeezing around his thin waist. “You’re s-so good to me,” you wail, pushing down into his covered cock for friction.

As much as you wanted to act like this wouldn’t affect you, your body is no liar. Fingers tangled in his long curls, you find yourself gently rutting against him. Much to your surprise, this makes him break away, a thin bridge of saliva connecting his mouth to your chest. You mourn when it finally breaks.

“Told you to stay still, doll,” Jungkook warns, one set of long fingers sprawling on the small of your back as the other reaches up. “You had all the time in the world to work yourself on me, but you wanna choose now?” He gently reprimands you, twisting your nipple between two pinched fingers. You mewl. “Promise you’ll be good?”

“I can’t,” you whine, desperation seeping into your voice as your traitorous hips jolt forward again. You nearly fall onto him when a particular nudge of his cock over your core feels just right. “Want your cock so bad,” you wail, throwing all hesitation out the window as you begin full on humping yourself against his crotch.

Jungkook sighs, trying to act annoyed with you but the twitch of his cock beneath you cannot lie. “Well I’m not done having fun with you,” he says, though the way his words are tinged with complaints, you can tell he’s trying hard not to pout. Nonetheless, he latches his mouth around your breast again, and you nearly faint when he rolls your nipple between his teeth.

“Jeon,” you cry, looking down with probably the world’s worst quadruple chin only to catch him absolutely savoring your titty. He’s got his eyes closed, pink tongue licking across every inch he can get. His arms are wrapped around the smallest part of your waist like he can’t possibly fathom letting you go. When he moans, a whole new found wetness coats your walls. You choke on a sob, “I-I love you, Jungkook.”

You can feel a smirk pressed around your breast. It’s this moment when Jungkook finally gives up on his little quest to tame you, hips bucking up to meet your offbeat grinds against him. He pulls off your breast with another wet pop, though he’s slightly lower than you from how consumed he was when sucking you tits. He has to make a little effort to stretch his neck up to look at you, and even then it’s over the top of his nose that he gazes at you.

His lips pucker slightly, and the next time you grind down onto him has them brushing against your lower lip. “That’s it,” he croons, admiring the different expressions that contort your face as you become closer and closer to your orgasm. “Come all over your pretty panties for me, baby,” he encourages, sucking your lower lip between his.

His mouth had been so dangerous to you today, licking and sucking in all the right spots, but nothing has ever felt as right as having it on yours. “I-I’m sorry,” you whimper, fingers knitting themselves in his hair.

“Don’t be,” he comforts, gripping your hips and swiveling you in a circular motion. “Next time you’ll do better, won’t you?”

You nod, head bouncing like a bobble head. He smiles, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth. Your thighs twitch. “I was gone for so long,” he rambles, hips picking up their pace the second he hears your breath hitch in your throat. “Didn’t think you’d become so sensitive and needy.”

A faint smile passes through your lips, and your toes curl and your belly tightens in that delicious way it does right before orgasm. Another grind against Jungkook, and he sighs “I love you,” as you cream your pants like a dweeby high schooler being touched for the first time.

Jungkook’s gentle movements halt the moment he sees that orgasmic face overtake you, pressing soft smooches all over the bottom half of your face, peppering your lips with them, until your fingers finally loosen in his hair.

“Fuck, I’m embarrassed,” you huff out, feeling gross and sticky in all the worst spots. Jungkook chuckles, and you can still feel his hard cock nudging the insides of your thighs.

“Nah,” he says. “It’ll make it easier for me to slide in.”

Even in your post orgasmic state, his words have a brand new coil of heat revving up. God, you were whipped for him. “Bed?” You ask, and he nods as you clamber off his lap, tugging down your shirt.

Immediately, he whirls around and catches sight of his abandon Smash game. “Huh.” He says, and you already feel the distraction staple itself into his mind. “Have you ever noticed how Dark Pit—“

You cut him off, gliding your hands around his neck and slowly craning it back until you can give him a tiny Spider-Man kiss. “If you make me cum a second time I promise I’ll listen to whatever theory you have about him,” you purr, punctuating your words with a tiny smooch.

The screen is off in record time.

[knifewieldingenby]

a heart’s a heavy burden, part two

part two of my incubus jaskier fic. smut with feelings 

part one  

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Right, and who’d want to fuck me? Any takers? Because I’m pretty sure this will create an awkward situation no matter who it is.” He was vaguely aware of Eskel and Lambert nudging each other and grinning. Geralt wasn’t smiling. He still held that shy, almost embarrassed expression, and when he spoke his voice was unexpectedly soft.

“I mean, you can have me.” When he was met with silence Geralt rushed on, his words fumbling so quickly into each other that Jaskier had to strain to keep up. “You don’t have to if you don’t want - it’s just- never mind, forget I said anything.”

“I want to.”

That fire roared in him again as he thought about touching Geralt for real this time, no more late night fantasies of wondering what it would be like to strip him slowly, run his fingers over his scars, touch him in places that would make the other man gasp his name. He could really have this now. His blood felt like it was boiling for it. He wondered if this reaction was normal for an Incubus, or if this was just about Geralt. 

“Okay,” Geralt said softly. He jerked his head around to his brothers. “Out. Now.”

“Have fun,” Lambert sang. The two left. When the door closed Jaskier was met with the reality of the situation. He was going to have sex with Geralt. And maybe afterward things would be fine, maybe Geralt would go back to treating him like the annoying bard who had wormed his way into Geralt’s life, his friend alone. Or maybe he wouldn’t; maybe he wouldn’t be able to look at Jaskier without regret. 

“Geralt, if we do this I need to know that things won’t change between us. That you won’t...you won’t hate me for this.”

Geralt placed a hand on his cheek, his eyes serious. “I will never regret anything I do with you, Jaskier. You’re important to me. I want you to be okay, and you haven’t been. Let me help you fix that.”

With that he captured Jaskier’s lips in his own. Jaskier moaned into the kiss - he couldn’t stop himself from reaching up and tangling his fingers in Geralt’s hair. He tugged ever so gently and Geralt groaned, tipping his head back to expose his neck. Jaskier took that as an invitation to latch his mouth onto Geralt’s neck, to suck and bite to his heart’s content. He knew the bruises would fade quickly - too fast for his liking - and yet he still felt a sense of pride as he marked him. Maybe Geralt would never want to be his lover, but for one night he could mark the man, own his body in a way he’d always dreamed about, and pretend. 

“Jaskier,” Geralt gasped. It was better than his fantasies. 

“You like this don’t you?” Geralt nodded, his mouth hung open as he breathed quickly. “You want me to touch you, Witcher?”

“Yes, please.”

Jaskier wasn’t sure what came over him, but he grabbed at Geralt’s shirt and swiftly tugged him, flipping them over so they were laying with Jaskier on top of Geralt, his legs splayed around the man’s hips. He grinded down and groaned as he felt Geralt’s cock rub against his through too much fabric. 

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he purred. “So lovely underneath me. I’m going to take you apart piece by piece, love.” And oh, he did not mean for that word to slip out. He may have regretted it if not for the fact that Geralt’s eyes darkened and he ran his nails up Jaskier’s thighs.

“You’re wearing too much,” he gasped out. Jaskier chuckled, took the buttons of the man’s shirt in hand. 

“I’m afraid it’s you who is wearing too much.”

Jaskier made quick work of Geralt’s clothing. First the shirt, then crawling down his body to work his pants and underclothes off. He’d seen Geralt naked plenty of times but this felt different. He could touch him now, taste him, devour him if he pleased. And he did.

Eyes firmly locked on Geralt’s, he rested between his thighs and placed a kiss to his cock, watched in fascination as it jerked at the touch. He was big, so much bigger than Jaskier was used to, and he wanted nothing more than to wrap his lips around that beautiful cock and worship him with his mouth. He felt strong in a way he hadn’t for weeks, already feeding off Geralt’s arousal. He licked at Geralt’s cock slowly, teasingly, working the man up until he was gasping and pulling at his own hair. The sight drove him crazy. He took the head in his mouth and sucked softly at first, his tongue flicking over the hole. He was rewarded with beads of pre-cum, the taste consuming.

His brain wasn’t thinking straight, wasn’t concerned with anything but bringing Geralt off again and again. He took him down swiftly, his mouth almost too small for the man, but he was nothing if not determined and lust-adled enough to work for it. Geralt filled him so beautifully, and he worked his tongue over thick veins, whining as he hit his throat. Could he…? The answer was yes, as he pressed down a little further and felt Geralt slip into his throat every so slightly.

“Fuck!” Geralt pressed his hips into the mattress, doing everything in his power to stop himself from thrusting into Jaskier’s mouth. Everything felt so tight, so perfect, so overwhelming. His senses could feel the pull of magic in the air, the weight that settled into his head that was distinctly Jaskier. Unfamiliar, and yet he felt like he’d known it all his life.

Jaskier pulled out a little, gasping for a breath he soon realized he didn’t actually need. He was made for this, made for taking everything he could and being so full of energy. He could smell Geralt’s power in the air. He pulled off completely with a pop and grinned at him.

“So good for me. Will you be a good boy for me?” It almost felt wrong speaking to the witcher in such a way, but the words were tumbling out before he could stop himself and Geralt was panting, eyes dark and fluttering.

“Yes, anything for you.”

“Anything?” He rubbed his hand down over Geralt’s balls, tugging slightly, and watched the man’s hips grind into his with glee. “I want you, all of you. Can you give that to me?” 

“P-please,” he stuttered. “You can have me, always.”

Jaskier knew he didn’t mean it. As soon as the haze of magic wore off Geralt would be back to grunting and hmm-ing at him. He would probably barely look him in the eyes. But he promised, Jaskier reminded himself. At least he would still have his friendship when all was said and done.

“I intend to.”

He dragged himself up, disappointed by the lack of contact but determined to get what he wanted. Geralt whined and made a grab for him. Oh, but he wanted him so bad and Jaskier ate it up.

“Hold that thought, dear heart.”

He hopped over to his bag and pulled out the little vial of oil that he had been rationing for his winter stay. He climbed back between Geralt’s thighs and held the vial out, making it clear what he was asking to do. Geralt sucked a breath in and nodded quickly. Jaskier smiled and wasted no time taking Geralt back into his mouth, the taste intoxicating. He bobbed his head up and down, relished in the desperate noises coming from the man. He quickly coated a finger in oil and rubbed it gently over the man’s hole. Geralt shuddered and pushed his hips down, seeking that irresistible contact.

He pushed gently and his finger slipped in with little resistance. He melted with the soft ‘oh fuck’ that escaped from Geralt’s mouth. He glanced up and took in the sight, practically (maybe literally) eating it up. His head tipped back, eyes fluttering, one hand tugging at his hair, the other skirting down his chest, down, down to Jaskier. He hesitantly touched one of Jaskier’s horns and Jaskier groaned like he’d been punched in the gut with arousal. He tipped his head, took more of the man in his mouth, and pushed his head into Geralt’s hand. He took the hint and wrapped his fingers around Jaskier’s horn, pulled him down further onto his cock.

Jaskier should have been gagging but he didn’t, couldn’t. He breathed through his nose but it felt unnecessary. As he bobbed his head he pressed another finger against Geralt’s hole and moaned as his body sucked it in without a hitch, joining the other finger to rub against his sensitive walls. He curls his fingers just so and Geralt shouted, his voice ringing out through the walls.

And Jaskier consumed it like he was parched for it. In a way he was, had known he would be missing out for several months when he agreed to come to Kaer Morhen, knew it would be worth it to be by Geralt’s side through the winter. Now it was worth it for an entirely different reason. 

He pulled off Geralt’s cock and blew cool air onto him, watched the way his body shook. 

“You love this, don’t you? You love the way my mouth feels wrapped around your cock, love my fingers splitting you open. I bet you’d be so good for me, climb into my lap and bounce on my cock like a good boy.” He grinned, licked the head of Geralt’s swollen cock. “Tell me what you want, love.”

“I- oh gods, fuck- I want you forever. I love-”

Geralt’s eyes snapped open and his body froze up, his legs closing reflexively. Jasker sat up, withdrew his fingers carefully, eyes wide, heart aching. No, he couldn’t get his hopes up, he couldn’t hurt himself like that.

“You love...what, Geralt?”

Geralt shook his head, covered his face with his hands. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean- that wasn’t supposed to come out. I know this is just sex for you.”

Jaskier reached up and pulled Geralt’s hand away from his face. He was surprised to see the blush covering his cheeks, hurt to see the regret in his eyes.

“Geralt,” he started softly. “This was never just about sex for me. You have to know by now how I feel about you. It’s been years...please tell me you know.”

He watched the shift in Geralt’s face, the openness and, dare he say, love that filled his eyes. His body relaxed as he sat up. He looked hopeful and uncertain at once..

“Really?”

“Yes, really. Now please, I beg of you, finish that sentence.”

He took a deep breath; it washed over Jaskier’s face and he could feel the shift in energy, the spark that sent his blood racing.

“I love you.” Geralt said. “And I’m yours, however long you want me.”

Jaskier smiled wide, mischievous. “Then I think I’ll keep you forever, love.”

He pressed his hands to Geralt’s chest and the man took the hint, falling back onto the bed. He let his legs fall open with him. Jaskier ate the sight up, the flush on his chest, the way his cock, having softened just a little, began to fill again. He fell back down and took the man into his mouth once more, gliding two fingers back into his hole. This time he felt the love in the air and knew it was real and all for him. He pulled away just long enough to speak his desires.

“Fuck, I want to eat you up, darling. I want to consume you, all of you.” 

Geralt groaned and arched as Jaskier worked his fingers in faster, bent them to rub at that spot in him that set his body ablaze.

“Yes, yes please, I need it. I need you!”

Jaskier smirked and pressed a third finger in. Geralt tightened around him but quickly relaxed into it. He grabbed at Jaskier’s horns again and hauled him back on his cock. Jaskier groaned, greedy for the way Geralt was tensing up. The man was whining now, loud and strained, his breathing fast and his heart racing toward a glorious finish.

Jaskier pressed three fingers against the spot and rubbed mercilessly, took Geralt deep into his throat, and that’s all it took. Geralt practically wailed as he gripped Jaskier’s horns tight and shot down his throat. Jaskier ground his hips into the bed and felt his own orgasm hit him like a storm - he’d had no idea he was so close just from pleasuring Geralt. Jaskier swallowed around him. He felt full; he felt powerful. 

When Geralt’s body slammed back into the bed he removed his fingers slowly and slid off his cock, licking his lips. He got up silently and grabbed a rag, cleaning the oil off Geralt’s skin and his fingers. The man was oddly still. He threw the rag aside and climbed onto the bed next to him, wrapping his arms around Geralt’s chest and pulling him close.

“Fuck,” Geralt muttered. He wiped at his face quickly and only then did Jaskier see the tears in his eyes.

“Hey, are you okay? Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” Geralt smiled through his tears. “I’ll admit this has never happened before. But it feels good. I feel good.”

“I’m glad.” Jaskier pressed a kiss to his tear-stained cheek and held him close.

He had no intention of ever letting him go.

-

tagging: @mayastormborn @disfunctionalcellmembrane @sarahdactyl666 @shrikefaerie @geraskier-trashh  @innocentcinnamonpun @swx3detfgy-blog @bunnygeneral 

[eugenesmorphine]

Hello there! Can I request a Dick Winters imagine where the reader knows Dick likes her *because of the comments* and she likes him back but she is tired of waiting for him to come to her and say he has feeling for her so she decides to make the first move.

Soulmates // Richard Winters Imagine

An: okay! So I am so so sorry I haven't been active. And I feel bad because I never really said anything. But many things have been happening in my life that caused me to lose motivation. But I am back! And I will begin to write all the requests made and work on my Generation Kill fic!

Taglist: @alienoresimagines @floydtab @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant @punkgeekchic @joesliebgott @adamantiumdragonfly

Words: 1,966

The officers sat within a run down building. Lieutenant L/N sat twiddling her fingers. She was bored. Extremely bored. There was nothing to do. Not even any paperwork! Which the female was willing to do at this moment. Anything would be better than just sitting in a chair for hours waiting for some type of order from the higher ups. 

   Y/N was a young, female Army officer. Full of life and humor. Compared to the other officers, she was like the life of the party. Very similar to George Luz. Though, her humor and liveliness has gotten her into trouble before for different reasons, she never let it affect her. 

  When a familiar officer, and close friend walked in, she smiled. Knowing that she wasn't about to be as bored as she just was. "Speirs!" she shouted as jumped up. A smile on her face as she walked on over. The Captain jumped slightly at the loud calling of his name. Looking over at the smaller female officer that was walking up to him. 

  "What's up, short stack?" he asked. His voice in the usual grumpy yet calming way. Y/N ran a hand over her face and groaned softly.

  "I'm bored. Any orders yet or any words from Winters if we are moving out yet?" she asked desperately.  Ronald just shook her head and walked past her. The two had a sibling kind of bond. Strangely enough. He was nicer to Y/N and watched out for her, knowing how most of the men treated women in general. Though, they stayed professional.

  The female Paratrooper groaned loudly. "I hate just sitting around when there literally is an entire war to fight," she groaned as she sat back down on her small chair. Speirs chuckled softly as she turned to look back at her. Shooting up an eyebrow.

  "Why don't you talk to your future husband about it?" He teased. Y/N's head shot up and her cheeks became dusted with pink. Knowing exactly who he was talking about. Y/N just turned her head away.

  "You know we aren't like that, Speirs," she said softly. Deep down, the female trooper knew how the higher ranked officer felt about her. There was no denying. Though he was known not to have the most out going sense of humor and was very professional most of the time. But, the lasting eye contact during meetings, the subtle flirting whilst the two were alone. And even that one secretive steamy night alone in one of the houses back in England that still made Y/N's face turn red just thinking about. That was a night that would always replay in the back of her mind. Though the two didn't speak to one another often. The tension and internal emotions were just seeping from the two of them. And everyone knew it. Like everyone. Just no one said anything.

   Ronald scoffed slightly. "Why don't you just make the first move. And i don't mean some subtle flirting or whatever that night was back in England a few months ago-" Y/N cut her fellow officer with a punch in the arm. "Well, what I'm trying to say. Is that even though I might seem mean and intimidating, but listen to my words of wisdom. If you don't figure out what you and Dick are, or what you guys are going to ever be before this war is over. And if you two go home your separate ways, you could lose everything and anything. Do you really want to do that to yourself?" he asked. Almost leaving Y/N in a small state of shock.

   His small speech really got her thinking. He was right. She was tired of the no real moves in the making. She couldn't really find an answer to Ronald's question. She just stood there for a moment, averting his gaze because she knew he was right. Ron just patted her shoulder lightly and put his helmet on his head, turning on the heels of his boots and walking out of the building. Leaving Y/N just standing in the room alone, staring down at her boots. Beginning to chew on the inner lining of her bottom lip. Maybe she would finally make the big decision. Or maybe she wasn't. All Y/N knew is that she was going to be thinking a lot the next few hours.

///

  Night had fallen on the makeshift base. Y/N was still sitting outside, staring up at the sky. She would've never thought that a guy like Richard Winters would have her so strung up on even figuring out how to talk to him. 

   Letting out a heavy sigh as she rested her elbows on her knees. Emotions were hard. Whether she was in high school or now in the Army as a Lieutenant. Y/N pushed herself up so she was standing, brushing the little dirt that laid on her off by wiping them on her trousers. She sighed once more as she came to the conclusion of what she wanted to do. Pulling a pack of cigarettes and placing one between her lips and lighting it. Taking a long and hard drag and letting the smoke flow around her lungs before exhaling into the cold air.

  Y/N turned on her heels and began walking to where Richard would be. Her boots softly pounding on the gravel roads as the female made her way to the desolate but slightly bigger building. As the trooper walked, she took in the soothing silence of the night. It was rare. Not even a single mortar round being fired in the distance. It was nice. She took it in while she still could. Who knew was the next time to get even just a few minutes of peace and quiet.

  When the female soldier made it to the front door of the building. She paused for a moment before forcing herself to grab the door's handle and open it, pushing it ope slowly. Trying to not to awaken anyone that was asleep. Closing the door behind her just as cautiously. Turning around to slowly make her way upstairs, walking up to the door that was dimly lit from the light behind it. 

  'Should I be doing this?' Y/N thought to herself as she looked down at her boots for a second. 'Is it going to be worth it?' She sighed as her head got lifted and made her mind up right then and there. Raising her hand to knock on the door. Three knocks. Lowering her hand back down against her side. 

  "State your name and business," a familiar voice came from within. Taking a deep breath before opening her mouth to respond. 

  "Lieutenant L/N. Hear to speak with you, sir," Y/N responded. Beginning to fidget with her fingers and finger nails. The sound of a chair being pushed back and footsteps quickly approaching the door. Staring at the wooden door and when it opened, her face was met with her superior officer's chest. Looking up at him and meeting his eyes. Richard had a small smile on his lips and small dusting of red on his cheeks.

  "Hello, Y/N. What brings you to speak to me about?" he asked. Moving out of the way to let the woman into his office. She smiled and gave a small nod to the taller man as she walked in. Trying her best to control her heart as it felt like was going to leap out of her chest at any moment. Walking into the small office that was illuminated by just a small lamp, but it did the job.

  Y/N leaned against the ginger's wooden desk and looked at him. Watching as he shut the door and turned to look at the woman. A small smile still rested on his lips. Y/N didn't know whether to smile or not. She just wanted to get straight to the point.

  "Richard, what are we?" she asked. Catching the superior officer by surprise.  His eyes widening slightly and he puffed out his cheeks. Of course he knew what she was talking about, but he didn't exactly know how to come about it.

  "Wh-what do you mean, Lieutenant?" he asked, his voice now in a slightly higher pitch as he rubbed the back of his neck. The female trooper's back straightened and she pinched the bridge of her nose.

   "Dick, don't play stupid. You are a smart man and we both know that," she huffed. Crossing her arms and looking back down at her boots. Richard decided in his mind that it was probably best to cut the shit and stop acting like a child and the man he is. I mean come on. This man leads men into war each day and is incredibly smart, but can't deal with his emotions when it comes to liking a girl. While thinking, Richard realized that he was quiet for a little too long. 

  "You're just going to pretend that what happened between us, the.. the flirting. The way we look at each other. And that night back in England," Y/N paused for a second, her voice quiet when it came to the last sentence. "You're really going to pretend that it never actually happened?" though her voice might've been quieter than before, the hurt was still clear within the words. Making Dick mentally cringe at how foolish he had been acting. Pressing his lips together he walked up to her. The awkward tension in the air was as thick as dead Kraut's blood. 

  "I'm sorry.." he said. He realized he was wrong. He always had. But he just couldn't help it. In the beginning of all of this with the war, back in Toccoa, sneaking around wasn't all that bad. But progressively, as the war went on. And the more death Dick had seen, the worse it got. The redhead had gotten so caught up in the fact of losing the one he loved most, he stopped paying attention to the fact that she wasn't dead. And was still alive with him. "I was acting like a child.. I-I care about you dearly, Y/N. Though, I was scared if I cared too much and with all this love going on, I would end up getting you killed," Richard finally admitted.  Sighing as he looked anywhere but the woman leaning against his desk.

   Y/N heard the word 'love' in his words and her face softened. Walking up to him and grabbing his face gently. Turning his face to have him look at her fully. A soft smile coming to her lips. "You would never get me killed, and you know that. We have spent too long denying the fact that we are meant for each other," she said softly. "I am willing to risk anything for you, Richard. Even my life," Y/N whispered to him. Causing Winters to smile. All of his past worries slipping away as she smiled up at him. His entire world standing in front of her.

  "Can I tell you something?" Richard asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. His right hand going up to cup her cheek. 

   "As long as I can ask something of you, Dick," Y/N responded. Beaming up at him. Her eyes so full of life. Like she was a teenager all over again.  Richard nodded in response of her request.

  "I swear when our lips touch, I can taste the next sixty years of my life," he whispered. His lips only centimetres from hers. Richard's smile still present. As was Y/N's. Just before pressing her lips against his, her arms draped over her lover's shoulders and whispered:

   "Don't forget the day we met. It changed history at least for me."

  To which Richard merely responded:

"I would never dream of it, Y/N."

[moonknightly]

Hit and Run : Poe Dameron x Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Excerpt: “He always felt so safe in your arms. In your embrace, there was no fighting, no war. Poe wasn’t a general, he was simply Poe. Your Poe. He always loved it when you called him that.”

Warnings: I said some bad words, Poe is sad as always. This literally started out as being a comfort fic but it took a turn I’m soRRY

It was always the same damn thing. Poe had been having the same fucking nightmare for years, and he figured he’d be used to it by now. He figured he would have built up some sort of immunity to the false images that rattled inside his brain while he slept, and sometimes, it seemed that way. Some nights he could deal with them, and he’d sleep until morning, waking with only a mild sense of discomfort.

Tonight was not one of those nights.

Tonight, his dreams jerked him awake at nearly three in the morning with the incessant pounding of his heart and sweat beading across his forehead. The blankets were tangled, hanging mostly on the floor, and fuck, was that a pillow on the other side of the room? Had he thrown it?

Maker, his chest was so tight.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, his head instantly falling into his hands as he tried to collect himself, tried to stitch together the broken shards in his mind until he could form a coherent thought. He couldn’t think straight, he couldn’t focus.

He couldn’t breathe.

Poe hadn’t had a panic attack in a long, long time, but the feeling was almost engraved into his being, carved into his ribs with a blunt knife, fragments breaking and piercing his lungs and stealing the air right out from them.

He couldn’t fucking breathe.

Could think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t feel anything but his heart beating against the wall of his chest and the collar of his shirt sticking to the back of his neck, completely soaked and dripping wet. He took the hem between his fingers and ripped it off, sending it flying towards the ground with the discarded pillow.

It didn’t help. His skin still felt like it was on fire.

“Fuck,” he mumbled, digging the palms of his hands into his eyes, starting to rock himself back and forth. It was pathetic, he knew he looked utterly pathetic but truth be told that’s how he felt.

He wasn’t supposed to let himself get like this. He was a leader, and this was not how leaders conducted themselves. The thought made him feel so completely weak. Damaged.

So many times did Poe let his title go to his head.

General.

He was the fucking general and he was acting like a new recruit on their first night away from home. He shouldn’t get nightmares, not after so long, and he especially shouldn’t let his dreams haunt him like this. They shouldn’t send him spiraling further and further downwards until he felt like he could never pick himself up again. He shouldn’t be fucking panicking.

And he certainly shouldn’t be stumbling through the base in such a haste, trying to get to the one spot he thought might make him feel safe again.

He always felt so safe in your arms. In your embrace, there was no fighting, no war. Poe wasn’t a general, he was simply Poe. Your Poe. He always loved it when you called him that.

The Resistance could skip from planet to planet, base to base, but your arms always made him feel as if he had a home.

But going to your quarters so late at night was beyond risky, because no one knew. You and Poe had been together for so long, and still no one knew of your feelings for one another.

It had been your decision to keep things a secret, not wanting anyone to think you were climbing the ranks for sleeping with your, at the time, commander. The name you had built for yourself would only be further judged and dissected now that he was the general if word ever got out.

Sometimes he wished Leia had never trusted him with the damned title.

Sometimes he really fucking hated it.

Poe stood outside of your door for a moment or two, trying to calm himself down just a little bit before letting himself in, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t get a grip on himself or his emotions and he needed you.

He punched your code into the keypad on the wall, and the door slid open with a small hiss. He was surprised to find you sitting up in bed, the soft glow from several lit candles casting shadows across your features, and the first complete thought that entered his mind since waking was just how breathtaking you looked in front of him, your silhouette almost beckoning to him.

Your eyes drifted up from your datapad as you heard him move closer, not having realized anyone had entered the room until you heard the sound of bare feet pattering across the floor. Poe watched as your eyebrows shot up in surprise, and your hands were suddenly free and reaching out towards him. He loved that about you — how you always seemed to know what he needed without him having to ask for it.  

“Poe, baby, hey. What is it?” you asked gently, ever so softly, letting him practically collapse into you. You hadn’t seen him so shaken since Leia’s passing.

He couldn’t speak, didn’t really want to. He just wanted to be with you and forget about the violent pictures floating through his head. His friends, his family, you — all bloodied and beaten and dead before his eyes. Fire, the smell of burning flesh and the sound of blasters firing all around. Your blood curdling scream was still ringing in his ears, and the terror he had seen in your eyes was making his heart break because he hadn’t been able to save you. He could never save you. He just wanted it to stop.

You knew. You knew exactly why the man in your arms was trembling under your touch, and why he had taken a chance on getting caught just to be with you. You were no stranger to his nightmares, having witnessed them each time you stayed the night with him, but it was rare that you’d see them hit him like this.

“Baby, you’re safe.” Your voice was just as gentle as before, your hands smoothing across his shoulder blades in a soothing manner. “I’m right here.”

“I’m so scared I’m going to lose you.”

“Poe-”

“I can lose anything, everything, but I can’t fucking lose you.”

You cupped his cheeks, forcing him to look up into your eyes, your thumb swiping across his skin so softly, it made him wonder how someone like you could exist.

“What brought this on sweetheart?”

He knew you meant his panic attack, and his words, not his dream specifically. He’d been so focused on the nightmare he hadn’t taken a moment to consider outside factors, and suddenly, it clicked. He understood why his nightmare was ten times more intense, and why it felt so much more real, and why it nearly brought him to his knees from the anguish.

It was all a very real possibility.

He could lose you. He could lose you at any given moment, given how you both lived your lives, but the threat was there more than ever, looking over his head, taunting him.

“Please don’t go on that mission tomorrow.”

He sounded so completely broken. So wrecked, so desperate. You couldn’t even respond, his words making your body go rigid, your voice trapping itself in your throat.

“Please stay here with me.”

“Poe you know I can’t do that.”

“Yes you can. I’ll send someone else, anyone else. Just not you.”

It would be different if he could go with you, he thought. Really, if anyone could go with you. But the mission was risky, and they couldn’t send more than one pilot in fear of drawing unwanted attention.

“Fuck it, I’ll go. I just need you to stay here where I know you’re safe.”

“Baby, no. You’re needed here, you know that.”

He pulled himself out of your arms, rubbing his hands over his face as he stood, starting to pace. “I don’t fucking want this anymore.”

His words sent you on edge, because you weren’t exactly sure what he meant, and again, you found yourself frozen, waiting to see which direction he would take this.

“I don’t want to be General Dameron anymore, I wanna be Commander Dameron again. I want to be able to fly and go on missions like this so you don’t have to.”

Poe’s eyes were wild, his hands moving into his hair to pull against the strands, and your mind continued to race as you watched him, the nerves in your stomach only growing.

“I hate saying goodbye to you because I’m always so scared you’re never going to come back to me, and I can’t even fucking kiss you before you jump into your X-Wing for fucks sake!”

You blinked, several times, trying to process his words.

Were you the problem? Were you the reason he didn’t feel like he could do his job? Was he spending too much time focusing on you and your safety that he was forgetting how to be a leader?

“Would it be easier if we weren’t together then?”

It was Poe’s turn to blink, as if he couldn’t believe the words that had just left your mouth. He couldn’t. “Did you really just ask me that? Are you serious?”

“Poe, think about it-”

“No,” he interrupted you, shaking his head hastily as he gripped your chin between two of his fingers, forcing you to look up into his eyes. “Absolutely not. You’re not leaving me right now.”

“Poe-”

“Do you not understand that you’re the only thing getting me through this war anymore?”

You stayed quiet, trying to look away from him, but he wouldn’t allow it, shaking your head gently to regain your attention.

“I wouldn’t be terrified of sending you out on missions like this if I thought I’d be better off without you. I wouldn’t be here now if I thought that. Baby I need you.”

You still didn’t respond, not knowing how to. All of your words seemed to escape you completely, and all you could do was stare at him with round eyes.

He stared back, for a long time, as if he were trying to memorize your features, commit them to memory. “Please don’t go tomorrow.”

Swallowing thickly, you took his wrist, pulling your chin out of his hold, shaking your head gently. “I have to.”

“No. You have to be here with me.”

“Don’t make me choose between you and this war. I don’t think you’ll like the answer.”

Poe took a step back, as if your words had physically hit him in the gut, and he felt his chest clench even tighter than before.

“I’m not asking you to choose.”

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose, just about to say something else when he beat you to it.

“I’m just asking you to sit this one out. Please. Just this one mission, let someone else go.”

That same desperation entered his tone again, and you wanted to say yes. You wanted to cave and give into him and reassure him, but you couldn’t. You knew you were stepping into something dangerous, and you couldn’t put that on anyone else, refused to put it on anyone else.

Poe knew he had lost when you were still quiet a minute later, and his face fell as you shook your head, looking away from him.

“It’s late. I have to be up early. You should go.”

The sound of his heart shattering was almost deafening in his ears. “I can’t stay?”

“Not tonight.”

Anything that was left of his heart broke completely, and you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, not wanting to see the expression on his face.

“What did I do wrong? I’m just trying to keep you safe.”

“By putting others at risk. You know I’m the best candidate for this, you know I’m more qualified than anyone.”

He was silent, for several long moments before finally sighing and shaking his head — a clear sign that he had given up fighting with her on it.

“I just want to be with you tonight. Please, will you just give me that much?”

Poe knew you would before you even nodded your head, and he decided to take his small victory and relish in it, knowing it was all he would get. He climbed into your bed and pulled you into his arms, tucking the covers tightly around you both, almost as if they would keep you there come morning.

They wouldn’t.

You had managed to slip out without waking him, before the sun was even up. He never even had the chance to see you off, no one did. He didn’t get to kiss you, or tell you he loved you. You were just gone.

And he hated what that meant.

He knew it was intentional, because he knew how you handled your emotions — he’d been with you long enough, it was as if he knew every single inch of your being inside and out.

You were scared. Just like he was. Scared that you weren’t going to come back, scared that you would never get to see him again. Scared that this mission was your last. You didn’t say goodbye because you were terrified and you knew that Poe would ask you to stay once again, and you knew that you’d give in. You knew that he would kiss you, and you’d melt into the palm of his hand, give him anything and everything he wanted.

He should’ve felt you get out of bed.

Poe felt the panic start to rise again, and he suddenly couldn’t stand being surrounded by all of your things, by your scent. Your room, your bed, your clothes — they were all still here but you were gone, and you didn’t think you were coming back. He felt like he was going to be sick.

He stood from the bed, and let himself back into the hallway, not caring for even a second that he was still shirtless and that he definitely wasn’t alone. He couldn’t give a damn that he had just been caught leaving your quarters after so obviously being there all night because all he could think about was the fact that you were gone, and his nightmares were becoming his reality.

He couldn’t breathe.

He couldn’t fucking breathe.

He needed you.

He needed you but you left him like a hit and run, and for the first time in so long, Poe Dameron felt so utterly alone.

For the first time, he didn’t feel like there was anything left to fight for.

[come-on-shitty-boys]

//goodbye, my princess. akaashi keiji//

Request:  Throne Room Thursdays yay!! Could I request Knight!Akaashi and Princess!Reader with the prompt “I vowed to your dying father to keep you safe, so get the fuck behind me.”

Warnings: Blood/Violence

Word Count: 1.8K

Notes: This was literally supposed to be like 800 words.  How did I get here? also me shamelessly writing a prologue to my Oikawa fic that went up today O O P S

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.  Everything had been peaceful for so long, so why now?  What about the peace treaty?  Did that piece of paper mean nothing?  It had been so long since the first time that you had heard your people’s screams and cries for help.  But, now ten years later, those mournful screams were echoing all around you again.  The clang of metal on metal as swords were swung in a heated battle to save the kingdom.  

They had come in the night, cloaked in inky darkness, to launch their attack.  The loud noise of a projectile coming into contact with the palace gates being the only warning that they had arrived.  And within minutes, he was there.  Just like he always was when there was the threat of danger.  His normally messy black curls looked even wilder as he had been yanked from his sleep.  Those normally tired eyes carried an extra wave of exhaustion, but nothing could mask the looks of distress evident on his face.  Akaashi Keiji had been peacefully sleeping before he was called to do his rounds of duty, but the sudden crash that had the ground shaking beneath his feet had jolted him awake.  The other knights around him were scrambling to get their armor back on.  It was the hurried mannerisms of those around him that had him quickly on his feet, his armor clanking heavily with every step as he ran towards the main section of the castle.  The princess.

Akaashi could see the banner of the Riviere Kingdom rustiling steadily in the breeze of the night.  An enemy no one could’ve anticipated, but here they were, trying to storm the castle anyway.  His heavy hand on your door accompanied his desperate pleas.  “Princess Y/N!  Princess, are you alright?”  He was expecting a lot of things, honestly.  He was expecting you to be fearful, the memories of the last attack plaguing your mind.  He was expecting tears and gentle shakes of your body.  Akaashi, however, was not expecting you to fling yourself onto him when you pulled open the door.  The sudden momentum had him stumbling back, but he still wrapped his arms tightly around you, letting you bury your face into his neck.  “Princess, we’re under attack.  I need to get you to the safe house.”

“What about my parents?  Are they coming with us?”

“No, my princess.  I was given the orders that if this day were to come, look out only for you.  I’m sorry, but I assure you that the other knights will escort them as well.  Come, we don’t have much time.”

And with a slow nod, you took his outstretched hand and let him lead you away, down, down, down spirals of stairs.  From above, the sounds of battle began to intensify, fear halting you in your tracks.  “Princess, I know that you’re worried about the king and queen, but please, we must keep moving,” Akaashi pleads, tugging your hand gently.  

It was only then when the shouts of soldiers began to echo through the darkness that Akaashi Keiji halted in his steps too.  The grip that he had on your hand tightened fiercely, the slowly darkening look on his face was illuminated by the low torch light.  There were heavy footsteps, dozens of them, all coming closer and closer to your very location.  He pushed the torch into your hands, drawing his broadsword from its sheath.  “I need you to make a promise to me, your highness.  From this moment forward, you will do exactly what I say.  If I tell you to run, you run and you will not look back.  If I tell you to hide, you put out that torch and hide.  Don’t come out until I say so, do you understand?  Can you promise me that?”

“Akaashi-”

“It is my duty to protect you at all costs and that is what I’m going to do.  Your life is much more valuable than mine and I will do everything in my power to protect it.  Please, make me this promise, Princess.”

 “I promise, Akaashi, but only if you promise that you will come back to me.  I don’t want to lose you.”

The knight that had been by your side since you were fifteen could feel his heart pounding in his chest.  He had been with you every step of the way and there were times when it felt like more than just a work-only relationship.  The way that you joked around with him while he watched over you during your equestrian lessons, the light punches to his arm when he whispered some snarky remark back to you.  There was so much laughter and joy that encompassed the two of you that this moment was such a startling comparison, but his first priority right now was to keep you safe, not place that long-desired kiss to your plush lips.  “I can’t promise you that, but I swear on my life that I will do what I can to make you happy." 

Your hand reached up to gently stroke his cheek and in the dim lighting Akaashi could still make out the sorrow written in your eyes, unshed tears glistening softly.  This shouldn’t be happening, not now.  You should be asleep, head resting on your down pillows, nestled under your blankets, preparing for another day of lessons and carrying out your other royal duties, but instead he was pulling you through the dark tunnel system beneath the castle in an attempt to get you away from your home that was crumbling to the ground with every passing second.  

“Halt!” A voice barks through the darkness.

“Princess, get behind me,” Akaashi mutters softly, but you were frozen in your spot, body too stiff to even make an attempt to move.  His hand gripped the back of your dress, roughly tugging you back, shielding your body with his own.  “I made a vow to your father and this kingdom to protect you, so get the fuck behind me and when I tell you to run, you need to run, are we clear?”  That sudden icy edge to his voice caught you off guard.  He was normally so gentle, so teasing in all of his remarks, but this was a new side to your knight that you had never seen.  This was your knight in the brink of battle, sword drawn, ready to do whatever he had to do to withhold his job as your protector.  

“Hand over the princess.”

“Not a chance in hell.”

“Don’t make this difficult on yourself, boy.  You can comply with us or we’ll be forced to do this the messy way, and I’m sure you wouldn’t want that.”

“I am Akaashi Keiji, loyal knight to the Gledria Kingdom.  I take orders from my king and my king only and I was ordered to protect the princess no matter the cost, so I guess we’ll have to do this the messy way.”

The Riviere knight clicked his tongue, shaking his head slowly as he pulled his own sword from his sheath.  “Bad choice, boy.”

Akaashi’s sword raised to deflect the incoming blade, the clangs of metal on metal echoing through the tunnel.  A quick shove and a well aimed kick to the center of the chest sent the other man stuttering back, a devilish smirk adorning Akaashi’s lips.  

And it should’ve stayed that way.  The tides should’ve been in his favor.  He was younger, faster, smarter, but the flat of a sword aimed expertly into his side had him doubled over from the pain of the impact, the joints of the armor leaving just a sliver of skin exposed.

But, that was all it took.

It was a sickening sound, really.  The metal piercing through flesh, the sharp breathless gasp escaping Akaashi’s pretty lips as he fell to his knees.  That soft “Run”  that struggled to pass as he just fell further onto the ground, one hand still gripping his sword, trying to fight the best he could, the other pressing firmly into his side to try to stop the blood gushing from the fresh wound.  

But, despite everything he had told you, you couldn’t run.  You couldn’t just leave him here to die alone in a dark tunnel where no one would find him until his corpse started to rot and smell up the entire palace.  “K-keiji-” You whispered, falling to your knees beside him, trying to cradle his body against yours, but you were only shoved away with a firm arm.

“I told you-” he paused, searching for air, “to run.  Please-”

“Then you have to come with me, Keiji, please.  I can’t make it all on my own.  I’ll help you, but please, get up, Keiji.”

He weakly shakes his head, but when you pull his body back towards you, he doesn’t have the strength to oppose.  He knew this day would come.  The day when he would finally be forced to leave you, but he just never expected it to be this soon or to happen like this.  He had always imagined it to be sending you off with a warm smile as you were taken to your new home in the Riviere Kingdom.  Cradled in your arms, bleeding all over your silken nightgown as his vision wavered was the goodbye that he never anticipated.  “I-I’m sorry, my princess.”

“I know, Keiji, I know, but please, don’t speak.  Save your strength so we can run away, okay?”  The sleepy smile graced his features as he gazed up at you, eyelids becoming heavier with each second.  Your hot tears streamed down your cheeks and dripped onto his face.  “Please, stay with me.  I’m not ready to say goodbye.  Keiji, please,” you whisper, desperation creeping into each and every plea that you uttered to your fallen knight.  

It was almost automatic, the way you leaned over him and pressed your lips to his, finally being able to kiss the knight who had been with you through so much.  He released a weak laugh as you pulled away from him.  “What was that for?”

“Because I love you.  I always have.  No one has ever made me smile like you have and no one ever will.  Please, just hold on, Keiji.”

“Well, I hate to ruin this beautiful moment, but seize the princess,” the Riviere knight ordered.  It was only a few seconds, before you felt hands wrap around your upper arms, hoisting you to your feet, letting Keiji’s slowly dying form fall the rest of the way to the ground.  

“What? No! Let me go! Please!” You shout, struggling to escape the tight grip, but no amount of protesting was stopping the soldiers from dragging you away from the scene, your desperate pleas mixed with sobs echoing off the walls and into the dying knights ears.  “Keiji!”

“Goodbye, my princess.”

[yelenasdog]

bonnie and clyde (billy/4 x fem reader)

genre: angst

summary: there were five people at the funeral of billy jones. why did two, more specifically one, of them leave?

words: 1.3k

warnings: just vv sad my guy. literally no fluff i hate it here </3 mentions of death, billy’s funeral, and crying.

a/n: yo so idk if billy’s last name is jones but i saw someone on here refer to him as billy jones and i think it’s just bc of ben’s last name but anyway LMFAO. i for some reason couldn’t stop thinking abt this and so i wrote it (as one does fkefnkerjn). also y/n was not used so if u wanted to read this as an x another character or x an oc it would work as well. enjoy :)

🌃🌃🌃

There were five people at the funeral of Billy Jones.

This was common knowledge who would listen long enough to hear the vigilante talk about the experience he had only seen from afar, his own heart growing tender during, or at any mention of, the moment.

But Billy always failed to explain the situation with a full grip, to its entire truth. As to why, most anyone could figure out.

He was afraid.

Afraid of getting her hurt, afraid of thinking of her for just a moment too long, afraid of his impulse driving him to get his ass right back up and go say he still loved her.

Four was afraid of a plethora of horrible scenarios that could occur if he let the truth about his funeral slide to anyone except One (which was bad enough that he had to know by default as it was).

And the irony of it all, was how miniscule and ineffective something like who had left his funeral early and as to why, would be to anyone else on the team.

Sure they all had their secrets that would seep into the pool that was their little family, Three’s mother, One’s lover, Two and Three’s infatuation with each other (though, that one wasn’t really a secret).

Not to mention, Four despised painting her in a bad light, allowing others to think for a fraction of a second that she didn’t leave because her already frail heart couldn’t handle to see her beloved’s name etched onto a gray stone in a patchy field of a horrible green, couldn’t handle the idea that their Bonnie and Clyde reminiscent days (minus the killing of 13 people, that is) had come to an end.

There were two people at the funeral of Billy Jones who left early.

The first? An old friend from his hometown.

He was a wealthy businessman now, having abandoned the life of pretty crime and rush of his youth. He showed up to Four’s not-so-celebration of life in an ashen tux with an obsidian tie and shiny oxfords, and barely a minute into the service he had begun checking his shiny Rolex, probably counting down the seconds until he would be considered late to some important meeting for whatever corporate hoax he was a part of to be able to stay afloat. How ironic.

Tick Tock, Tick Tock

The sound was like nails on a chalkboard to her, while the action itself felt like somewhat of a betrayal, even though Billy and the businessman hadn’t talked in years. It was a kind enough gesture that he had even come to begin with.

But she didn’t care.

Because before the service had even started, salty droplets were rolling down her reddened cheeks, dampening her hoodie, his hoodie, that she had coiled so tightly around herself and her limbs, almost like a corset.

So when the businessman turned to go after what could maybe have been a measly few minutes, she could barely control her anger.

But she did, for Billy. She sucked it up and stayed put, keeping her eyes trained to his mother who was now speaking, her striking emerald eyes also obviously wet. But in reality, Billy had wanted his former lover to turn around and smack that prick square in the face.

But then 4 took some time and realized that if it were the other way around and she had been dead, he could conjure in his mind how distressed he would be to where he would prefer to focus on wallowing in his sadness for her and her only, not be consumed by anger for some random fellow.

Billy truly wanted to leave One where he stood, wanted to run to where her shaking was escalating from ever so slightly to violently as could be, wrapping her in his strong arms she already missed. The strong arms that she believed should have kept him safe when he was dangling from that damned building with that damned necklace in his mouth.

The image could have been some renaissance painting with how beautiful he looked, even then, on the brink of what the world would know as the death of Billy Jones.

In fact, most of Billy’s and the girl’s adventures could be different renaissance paintings. Alive and free, bursting with vibrant colors and emotions that weren’t able to be captured with words, so rather, they were thrown on a canvas in what was somehow a meticulously put together flurry.

On that rainy day, the weather so fitting to what she had been feeling, she wished for nothing more than to somehow place herself back into those non-existent paintings, to even for a fraction of a second bask in his never ending love like some sort of oasis.

She wanted to run her fingers through his golden curls one last time, kiss his forehead goodnight one last time, to tell him she loved him more than anything in this universe, one last time.

But she didn’t, and she wouldn’t ever get to.

And her one final chance to say what she wanted him to hear, she had missed out on, as that’s when she had left.

It was long after the uptight man in the fitted suit, long after his crying mother had gone from where she was speaking up front, back to the shadows of her baby’s grim event that she should never have had been alive to see.

She had managed to drag herself halfway up to where his casket was sitting just above the ground, trying to not look at the box a second too long.

Rather, she pretended there was a pair of rose colored glasses sitting on the bridge of her nose, helping her pretend that this was all some big misunderstanding, that Billy was just pulling one of his infamous pranks.

He would pop out from behind the tent covering the few who stood with their feet shifting on the damp soil, or perhaps from the headstone of his very own grave. She would gasp or shriek and then smack his arm, lecturing him as he grabbed his chest, doubling over in laughter, the sound like music to her ears.

God, what she would do to hear that sound one more time.

Nevertheless, in the end he would stand up, and wipe her tears from her sweet face, pressing gentle kisses on either of her cheeks to rid her of that pout he hated to admit he loved. She would crack a small smile and he would punch a celebratory fist in the air at the gesture, leaving her to only shake her head at his antics. He would sling an arm around her shoulders, nustling close to her as they would exit the graveyard, never coming back until the inevitable day they both had lived their happiest and fullest lives together.

He would say “You know you love me.” And without a doubt, every time, she would say “Yeah, I do.”

But not this time.

This time, she would let her eyes wander to a tall tree just over the hill, slimming her puffy eyes. She rubbed them and did a double take, and swore that for a moment she had seen what looked like his figure next to one of someone she had never seen before.

And that’s when she left.

She let out an ugly sob, running as fast as her feet could take her to wherever that wasn’t there, the sound of her shoes against the cold ground muted, but the sound of her uneven breathing was anything but.

As for all she knew, it was her mind playing a cruel, cruel, trick on her. Or even her mind trying to give her some sort of closure to move on.

Whatever it was, though, was simply too much for her to process, too much to handle. So she had left, given up on what she didn’t know was her only chance to give a proper goodbye.

“You think she saw you?”

“I hope so.”

🌃🌃🌃

we vibing w this?? i hope so hehe. WAIT PUN NOT INTENDED LMFAO I DID THAT PERIODT! anyway, have a wonderful day/night, and go drink water and eat protein, it’s all abt intention!! i love u! also if u have any questions abt this fic pls do lmk bc ik some of it was kinda weird! 

p.s., pls pls pls reblog this! this is my first ben related fic and ik when it’s ur first fic for a fandom they can flop so it would be very cool if y’all could help me out a lil bit :) either way ily, thank u! kk bye

xx hj

[cloudywriter]

Okay, hear me out... A Nessian carnival situation?

first, i need more prompts, send whatever & alright this one took me a sec but then i got into and i’m pretty happy with it. sorry, it’s such a long built up but it’ll come. pretty swift nessian fix here ya go:

~~~

A Tale of Questionable Carnival Rides

~~~

Nesta huffed, checked the time on her phone again, and rolled her eyes. It was only 9:32pm now and the endless stream of kids and parents was still steadily flowing and likely would be for another hour or so. 

Nesta checked again. 9:33pm. 

It wasn’t that she hated the annual carnival fundraiser for the school, she liked planning it and making sure everything ran smoothly, being student council president that’s usually what her job description was. But not this year, no, this year Nesta was in charge of running one of the mini-game stands as Clare, who was supposed to be managing it, came down with the flu.

To say the least, Nesta did not enjoy dealing with groups of screaming children and their hovering parents. Honestly, she’d rather slam her hand into a car door than spend another hour watching kids fail to knock down three pins then become upset because they don’t get a prize for losing. 

She was able to handle the first couple of kids that shed some tears and the few parents that wanted a pity prize, but as the night wore on her patience began to run thin.

A young blonde boy, maybe eight or nine years old, was now making his way up to Nesta’s booth followed by presumably his mother. 

Nesta gave her the same, plastered-on smile she’d been giving all night to the woman approaching. 

“Hi, three balls please,” the mother said sweetly, handing a five-dollar bill to Nesta over the table.

Nesta gave her a small nod and plucked three red balls from the bucket beside her, handing one to the little boy.

“Alright, all you have to do is knock down all three pins and you’ll get a prize,” she stated her usual rehearsed line. 

Of course, the little boy missed his first shot, his aim a little too low, Nesta passed him a second ball in response. Once again, his ball missed its mark and the boy let out a little sound of frustration.

“It’s okay, you’ve got one more shot,” Nesta explained before setting the final ball before him. 

The boy swiped up the plastic, red orb and weighed it in his hand. He turned his attention back to the three pins still sitting untouched atop the table adorned with a red and orange plaid, fall-appropriate cloth; he chucked the ball, grazing the top pin enough to knock it off. 

“I did it! I did it!” The boy cried punching the air in triumph. 

“Hey, I’m sorry, but you actually have to knock down all three to win,” Nesta frowned, feeling a little sympathetic for the kid. 

“That’s crap!” He shouted. Nesta shifted her weight awkwardly from one foot to the other, “I’m sorry, that’s just the rules.” 

The mother’s mouth was set in a thin line as she rested her hand on his arm. “C’mon honey, maybe you’ll have better luck at ring toss?” She offered. However, he looked up at her unimpressed, “No! This booth is the only one with the dragon stuffed animal! I got the top pin!”

The mother’s eyes flitted back up to Nesta. “Can you just give him the dragon? I mean he did hit one and I already gave you money, I’m sure that dragon is cheaper than five dollars.”

“I’m sorry, but I really don’t think I can do that,” Nesta reiterated. 

The mother huffed, obviously getting upset now and started digging around in her purse. She slapped down another five-dollar bill in front of Nesta, “There? Is that enough? Just give him the damn toy.”

Nesta was a little torn on how to handle the situation, the last bit of patience she possessed slowly disintegrating. “Look, I can give you another three balls for you to try again but I can’t just give out the prizes for some money.” 

The mother rolled her eyes, slamming her hand down by her side; “He’s just a kid, he’s not going to hit all of the pins and don’t try to tell me that dragon is worth more than a few bucks. This is just a high school fundraiser, save me the trouble and give my kid the damn prize.”

The son looked up at his mother with a pout.

“Ma’am, I’m sorry to hear that your son has no hand-eye coordination but frankly it’s not my problem. If you want to try and pay your way through another game I’d suggest the bean bag toss, my sister Elain is a softy.” Nesta gave her a sickly sweet smile and crossed her arms over her chest.

At that, the woman’s face turned a tint of red. “Okay, who is running this? I’d like to speak to one of your teachers or the principal, you’re being extremely rude.”

“I’m being rude? Lady, I’m just trying to get in my community service hours.”

The woman’s nostrils flared and Nesta could tell she was about to crack, she started to speak her voice significantly raised. “Alright, missy-”

“Whoa, hey, what is going on here?” Another voice chimed in.

Nesta groaned, her head turning to face the student council vice president who had now joined the interaction. 

“Are you running this thing? This girl has been astonishingly ill-mannered,” the woman began. Cassian held up his hand, “I am not the one in charge, unfortunately, you’re actually looking at the boss right now.” 

The woman gave Nesta another scowl, snatched up the five-dollar bill that still rested on the table, and grabbed her son’s hand dragging him off into the crowd. Cassian didn’t turn to leave though, “I’m actually surprised you didn’t get into a fight with a crazy mom earlier. I almost left your general vicinity thinking I wouldn’t have to break up anything, good thing I didn’t.”

Nesta rolled her eyes and uncrossed her arms, letting them rest at her side again. “My hero,” she added sarcastically. 

Cassian smiled. “C’mon, sweetheart, why don’t we go for a little cooldown ferris wheel ride.” 

“Really?” Nesta asked, gesturing with her head towards the sad scrap of chipped brightly painted metal that was the ‘ferris wheel’ the school decided to splurge on and rent out. “You’d get in a cart and the whole thing would topple over.”

Cassian only shook his head. “Nah, c’mon, Archeron. What, are you scared of heights?”

“Yes, I’m deathly afraid of being lifted twenty feet into the air, Cassian.”

Cassian didn’t respond, just held out his arm. Nesta sighed, deciding she’d rather risk her life on a very janky carnival ride than work that damn game. She slipped out from behind the tables and looped her arm through Cassian’s, “I hope you know you’re paying whatever ridiculous rate they have going.”

“I suspected as much,” he answered, pulling her across the high school parking lot which had been transformed into the makeshift carnival. 

They stood together in the small line and Nesta closed her eyes, tipping her head back breathing in the scent of corn dogs and funnel cakes deeply. The student letting kids on and off the ride collected Cassian’s money and they stepped into their cart. It did audibly creak as Cassian and all his muscles took up residence, Nesta settled in across from him. 

“How have you enjoyed working a booth? Think next year you’ll decide to do it again rather than running around making sure everything’s working out?” Cassian asked, stretching his arms behind him.

“I think if I get stuck handing kids balls to throw at pins or something like that again I will abdicate my throne.”

Cassian raised his brow. “It can’t be that bad.”

Nesta shrugged. “Why do you care? You’re probably thinking up a scheme to make sure I end up on game duty again so you can have my presidential status.”

“Nah, I’m not after your position I swear. I don’t even like being vice president.” 

Now it was Nesta’s turn to raise a brow. “Then why do you keep doing it?”

Cassian hesitated a moment. “It’s the only way I get to spend time with you,” he confessed. 

“You’re telling me for two years you’ve run for vice president so you could hang out with me?” Nesta asked, disbelief coating her tone.

Cassian nodded. 

“You took on the extra burden of full hour meetings twice a week before school, put in countless hours of budgeting, fundraising, making posters, all that jazz just to spend time with me?” 

Cassian nodded again looking as if he were trying much too hard to stay cool and calm. “Romantic, isn’t it?” He smirked like he was ready for Nesta to melt into his arms.

“No, that’s so fucking stupid,” Nesta crossed her arms.

Only then did Cassian’s built up nonchalant aura falter. “W-what?”

“Yeah dumbass, you literally could have just asked me out.”

“I didn’t think you’d ever say yes,” now Cassian was leaning forward, his face exuding a plethora of emotions. 

Nesta leaned forward, her face only a few inches from Cassian’s own. 

“I would’ve said yes,” she almost whispered. Cassian’s eyes searched Nesta’s face for any sign that she was playing a cruel joke, he found none. “Nesta?” he asked softly. 

“Mhm?”

“Would you really go out with me?” His eyes were wide and hopeful, the innocence of it all made Nesta smile. Especially knowing how much of a goofball Cassian was, it was different seeing him so genuine and unguarded. 

“I really would,” she answered at last. She and Cassian just stared at each other for a moment, the corners of their lips upturned. 

“Nes?” Cassian’s voice broke. Nesta raised her eyebrows slightly, encouraging him to continue. “Is it okay if I give you my letter of resignation on the date, too?” 

Nesta let out a small giggle and rested her forehead against his. “You’re such a doof.”

~~~

alright, well i hope you liked it! also thank you guys so much for all the love on my last nessian prompt fic, usually, i only get like 15-20 notes a post so all the attention that one got made me really happy. also, i promise i'm still working on my other stories!

[demented-dukey]

lol this is urs now

“I don’t think,” Roman says, softly.  “That I’m supposed to love you.”

Remus just smiles and presses their foreheads together.  “When has that ever stopped you before?”

They were the same person, once upon a time.  Romulus, King Creativity, making drawings of electrocuting Thomas’s brother and playing war with the earnestness reserved for little boys who don’t know what death is.  He dashed through the mindscape, trusty lance in hand, enamored with his life and his existence.But that was before the darkness of the world dimmed the corners of Morality’s starry eyes.  It wasn’t his fault, not really.  They all had their jobs to do.  Even later, neither could bring themselves to blame him.

It hadn’t hurt Roman, just a sharp tug and a sudden feeling of coldness, like something was gone.  He staggered to his feet and looked down at the other boy, eyes smudged in purple and hair streaked with white.

He was shaking, jaw clenched so tightly it threatened to crack.

Later, Remus told him it felt a little like being cast from heaven.

“Remus,” one of the broken halves addressed the other.  He hadn’t said his name, but Roman knew it, as surely as he would if it were ink-stamped on his own skin.  The name was pleasantly sour in his mouth, zinging as if trying to counteract the taste of copper.  “Remus, are you okay?”

Remus didn’t move from his huddle, eyes shut tightly.

“Romulus,” he said.  “I’m supposed to be Romulus.”

“So am I.”

Slowly opening, dark, murky green eyes stared out at him.

“Your eyes are red,” Roman’s other half said.  “They look like blood!  Gushing blood!”

He was suddenly up on his feet, chattering excitedly about how pretty blood was, how pretty Roman was.

Roman didn’t realize he had moved until he was crushing the other boy to his chest.  He warmed, just a little.

Remus paused his chatter, wriggling like an earthworm until he could look into those red eyes.

“Roman,” he said.  “My Roman.“  He twisted his lips.  "I don’t think we’re supposed to be apart.”

Roman swallowed down the strange lump in his throat.  “Nor do I.”

Somehow, their fingers intertwined.

When the other sides found them, a while later, they were still holding hands.

Theirs becomes a world of stolen glances, hushed murmurs.  Their hands touch when they trade papers, sparks shivering up spines at each chaste brush.  Remus leans just a little too close when they’re huddled together over scripts, their bangs brushing.  Roman lets himself be drawn closer, yet closer when they’re murmuring over a particular idea, lips a whisper apart.  They’re waltzing on the edge of something dangerous – dizzy and exhilarated with each almost-misstep and twirl.

They’re brothers; that’s undeniable.  Yet, still, that’s not all they are.  They’re two parts of a whole, weaker, lesser without each other.

There’s a rubber band around them, pulling painfully tight whenever they’re apart.  It never breaks, just snaps them back together.  Relief washes over them.  Roman can always breathe a little easier when he hears tuneless whistling, and Remus stops checking anxiously over his shoulders when he can smell oak and pencil led - scritch, scritch, scratching against parchment.

How can they resist, when they’re literally each other’s missing piece?

“Your lips should be red too,” Remus says, rhythmically throwing a half-rotten orange in the air and catching it.  “Then they’d match your eyes.”

“Hm,” Roman says noncommittally, absorbed in sketching the outline of a lance.

“I’d cut them, if you wanted,” Remus continues, tossing and catching, tossing and catching.  “Slice them open with my teeth.  You’d look so pretty.”

Roman’s hand jerks across the paper, slicing in half a picture of what once was.  “You…"  His hand is trembling, and he forces it shut and still.  "That’s a new thought.”

“No, it isn’t."  Remus isn’t looking at him still – tossing, catching, tossing catching.  "Not at all.”

“So you think about my lips a lot then?"  Roman’s voice tries to come out teasing, escaping almost panicked.  This is against the rules, against the unspoken boundaries they’ve been toeing around since the beginning of them.

"Yup!” Remus agrees cheerfully, still toying with that damn orange.  “How pretty and soft they look, how much I could bite them before you started crying, how they’d look stretched around my-”

Roman is across the room and snatching the orange out of the air before Remus can finish his sentence.  He looms above his brother, flushed and shaking.  His fist clenches just a bit too hard, and the fruit splatters open, sticky citrus dripping from his hand.

Remus grins up at him.  “What’d you do that for, brother?”

“Do me a favor,” Roman says, lowly, “and look at me next time you decide to ruin my life.”

Remus shrugs.  “Okay."  He sits up, languidly, eyes locked with Roman’s, and takes Roman’s orange-dripping hand in both of his own.  "How’s this, then?”

Slowly, he brings Roman’s hand to his mouth and licks a stripe up his palm.  Swiping his tongue against the pad of Roman’s thumb, he sucks the finger in, cleaning it.  Never looking away from Roman, he repeats the action on the other four, until Roman’s hand is wet with spit and his face is flushed with something other than anger.

“You’re awful,” Roman says.

Remus smiles, bright.  “I love you too.”

He tastes like citrus, just turned sour.

The rules change.  Hands that only brushed become intertwined tightly.  Eyes that had looked hastily away meet and become heated.  Words and thoughts that had been suppressed become whispered between kisses.

Thomas has some of the most creative ideas he’s ever had.

“You’re my soul mate,” Roman tells him once, between increasingly fevered kisses.

Remus laughs - licks a stripe up his cheek and whispers in his ear.  “We don’t have souls, baby.”

Maybe they don’t.  They aren’t real, after all.  They’re less than a thought – just a collection of sparks and neurons in the mind of a man much more whole than they could ever be.

But here, with his other half deep inside him, flush against him, green eyes staring down, Roman feels complete.

“He didn’t like me at all.” Remus says, softly.  They’re lying beside each other in an open, grassy field, counting shooting stars.  “Am I scary?”

Roman is quiet for a long moment before he responds.  “Everything is,” he says eventually, “before you know it.”

Remus scared him, once upon a time.  Before he knew what the hollowness in his chest was, before he knew that you can’t change how you love, before he knew that Remus would love him back.

Remus’s shoulders relax, just slightly. 

“I must not scare you at all then,” he purrs.  “Since we know each other in the Biblical sense.”

Roman is straddling Remus before his other half can react.  “Well,” Roman says coyly, leaning down.  “I wouldn’t mind getting reacquainted.”

They do.

“We’re broken,” Roman says.  It’s not the first time he’s said it, nor will it be the last.

“I could fix us,” Remus offers, half-joking.  “Chop off your arm, put it on my shoulder, and pop in a few stitches.”

It’s almost enough to make Roman laugh.

“No,” he breathes.  “Some parts are better like this.”

He can look at his other half now, hold him in his hands, watch his eyes glow with a new idea or darken with more wicked intentions.  He can talk to him, speak of things only the two of them can understand.  They can venture into the imagination – play knights and soldiers and war, the way they never could when they were together.  Sometimes, it’s nice not to be together.  It means they’re never alone.

Roman probably isn’t meant to love Remus.  He’s loud and crude and obnoxious and hypersexual.  He and Roman pick at each other’s ideas until what they have left is better than what either of them could create.  He’s everything that Roman isn’t.  Everything that he’s missing.  They should hate each other. 

Roman doesn’t think he’s supposed to love Remus.

He does anyway.

~

(the above was submitted by Squidward)

DD: Dear Squidward,

Forgive me for hanging on to your submission for so long before posting it. It brought me so much joy and made my heart ache so sweetly every time I opened my inbox and saw it sitting there. But it’s past time for me to finally post your work and share it with the world.

“I don’t think,” Roman says, softly.  “That I’m supposed to love you.”

Remus just smiles and presses their foreheads together.  “When has that ever stopped you before?”

Oh. Oh fuck. Oh fuck me gently. This was like a fucking punch to the chest every time I read it. How dare you begin a fic so fucking beautifully and heartwrenching. Two lines in and I already knew I would die for this fic.

Later, Remus told him it felt a little like being cast from heaven.

Oh, ow. my heart… I love the subtle biblical references… headcanon accepted…

They’re waltzing on the edge of something dangerous – dizzy and exhilarated with each almost-misstep and twirl.

Your wording is so beautiful, I’m dizzy with it.

Roman’s hand jerks across the paper, slicing in half a picture of what once was.

*sobbing* the imagryyyyy… once again Remus “causes” what once was to be sliced in half…. *flails*

“Do me a favor,” Roman says, lowly, “and look at me next time you decide to ruin my life.”

Fuck. Me. Please. This liiiiiiine.  💚 💚 💚

He tastes like citrus, just turned sour.

*whimpers*

The rules change.  Hands that only brushed become intertwined tightly.  Eyes that had looked hastily away meet and become heated.  Words and thoughts that had been suppressed become whispered between kisses.

Thomas has some of the most creative ideas he’s ever had.

*sobs and whimpers, flailing*

“You’re my soul mate,” Roman tells him once, between increasingly fevered kisses.

Remus laughs - licks a stripe up his cheek and whispers in his ear.  “We don’t have souls, baby.”

That’s it. That’s Roman and Remus in a nutshell. This is so fucking in character it hurts.

“I must not scare you at all then,” he purrs.  “Since we know each other in the Biblical sense.”

Roman is straddling Remus before his other half can react.  “Well,” Roman says coyly, leaning down.  “I wouldn’t mind getting reacquainted.”

*rips my hair out, tears my bosom* I love this sooooo muuuuuuch *sobs*

Sometimes, it’s nice not to be together.  It means they’re never alone.

THIS. FUCK. THIS IS WHY I LOVE REMROM. FUCK. THIS IS AMAZING.

They should hate each other.

Roman doesn’t think he’s supposed to love Remus.

He does anyway.

*crying*

I love this fic so much. Thank you for writing and sharing it.

Love, DD