#what would going to the hospital even do? best case scenario they admit me to 2 West where my doctor there can be my current doctor

[scarletcomet]

*

[monalovesstarsz]

Maybe we could

Genre: Non idol au, Hospital au

Pairings: Shy sick sunghoonxchronic illness shy y/n (I clearly don't know how to do this)

Summary: Y/n starts to spend a lot of time in a hospital due to her health and its super lonely until she meets sunghoon and they agree to try their best to live as regular teens.

Warnings: uhh I'm not totally sure but illnesses, thoughts of death, hospitals, depression, mentions of death (probably) Kys joke, sick joke, death joke.

Not proof read 🙈

"WAIT EXCUSE ME?!?!?" you said horrified that he had known this whole time. Before the elevator door closes Gisellse sticks her foot in it to get more answers

"it's okay I know, you've been following me for the past couple of days I should be the one asking questions don't you think?" Sunghoon giggled slightly from seeing your reaction

"I-um I uh don't know what you're talking about sunghoon y-you sound crazy!" No he was right but you tried your best to make it seem like he was lying even though your stutter did not help your case at all.

"Now that I think about it we're were pretty obvious y/n."

"Giselle!!!" You smacked her arm and groaned in response

"It's okay it made my day most of the time! Although I thought you would approach me sooner and it was pretty creepy of you." You could tell he was trying to contain his laugh and once again you groaned in response.

"How long have you known?"

"Uhh I had my suspicion the first two or three days but then the day when I felt like you had been following me extra I turned and you were reading a magazine very intently." You waited for him to finish his sentence but you noticed he thought that was enough of an answer.

"So? That's normal."

"It was upside down y/n"

"Oh!"

"So you know where I'll be tomorrow right?" Asked sunghoon as Giselle finally moved her foot from the elevator.

"Yeah yeah you'll be in the lounge area reading a book" you said while you sarcastically rolled your eyes and let out a sigh. You couldn't believe it he had known for more than half of the time.

"Okay see you tomorrow y/n!" And with that the elevator door closed.

"Great." You muttered you knew you were gonna loose sleep over this for sure it was just to humiliating for it not to.

Gisellse finally broke the awkward embarrassing silence."Well time for you to go back to your room and eat dinner. I can't believe he knew I mean it was obvious and you gotta admit he's a pretty good actor for pretending he didn't know!" And you groaned hiding your face in your hands as your elbows rested on your knees hunched over as Gisellse wheeled you into your room.

"So he has known this entire time?!" Asked Hanni through the phone.

"That's what he said. I mean it was so embarrassing Nini like he has known this whole time ughhhh!" You as answered.

Danielle tried to make you feel better "Well maybe he didn't think much about it he still talked to you and you said you talked for awhile so that must be a good thing right?"

"Nah she totally bombed that he totally thinks she's in love with him and that you're a total creep."

"Go kill yourself Jake." You joked annoyed at his totally realistic scenario (sadly).

"Y/n you're fine he probably thinks that's cute so he probably likes you back." Jay said in the way you knew he had shrugged when he said that.

"Jay I do Nawt like him like that and I hope to goodness he does once again thinks that I like him."

"Nah man she totally likes him no scratch that she loooooves him she practically has hearts in her eyes when she talks about Mr. 'Ice prince'." He said love in a higher pitched voice and ice prince in quotation marks because Jake doesn't know his actual name.

"Jake didn't I already tell you to go kill yourself? Go jump of a very steep rocky cliff or something." You said sarcastically rolling your eyes.

"Yeah yeah you'd probably cry yourself to sleep every night if I ever did that"

"Yeah right." You mumbled

"Okayy but y/n didn't you tell me he's very good looking?" Danielle asked causing you to blush but thankfully your phone camera didn't pick it up.

"Uh yeah I did but that doesn't mean I like him let alone that I'm in love with him" you answered quickly but maybe too quickly. You saying that he was good looking was an understatement because wow. He could easily get a model or idol contract. He was incredibly good looking and still you were not giving him enough credit.

"Yeah she's in love but he probably doesn't like you back cuz your a creep" you had enough of Jake's playful banter so you had to say something besides go kys.

"Will I remind you I was only a creep cuz I'm lonely in this hospital and you guys don't visit me enough? Oh I'm sick and there's a chance I might possibly die." You said jokingly while you faked cough to really sell it.

"I will visit you y/n, but maybe when you're six feet under." Ooh next time you see him in person you would for sure not let him get away with it. You started to fake cry that turned into a sob.

"You're so *sniffle cruel *sniffle jake *fake sob." You said while wiping away fake tears.

"I'm sowy y/niee pwease forgive me I'm saur saur sowwyy." Jake said while giving the camera puppy dogs and doing the uwu pose.

And in return he got multiple Ewws from Danielle and Hanni.

"What the fuck was that." Jay said

"No way!! I got a vid of you doing that Jake!!!!" You said laughing hysterically.

"What do you mean y/n?."

"I started screen recording cuz I had a feeling you would do something hilarious!!" You were still laughing hysterically.

"What oh my gosh y/n you have to send that to me like right now!" Danielle had also started laughing

"Wait send it to me please I need that video y/n!" Hanni said.

"Yeah I'll need it too for blackmailing and stuff."

"what?! You don't need to blackmail me jay we are the bestest of friends my very dear jay!"

You had checked the time when Giselle began to speak "Sorry to interrupt the fun guys but Y/n has to do her routine for bed now." That reminded you about the fact that you were where you were. In the hospital because you're not okay. Some days were so bad you barely could get out of bed but you did (to follow sunghoon). You had found out that something was wrong with your stomach organs (idk if this is very accurate so ignore if it is). It kinda made you down because your friends could go to school, hangout in public places. It's okay you'll get better though right?

"kayy then bye guys call you soon and if you guys don't visit soon I'll murder you all... Im just joking guys but please visit hate to sound like an annoying ex so visit now!." You said giggling.

"Okay bye bye guys- oh wait y/n next time tell us what the guys name is you haven't told me!"you kept forgetting.

"Oops kay remind me then!" You were followed by an okay and multiple byes.

You were in your bed trying to sleep but you couldn't stop thinking about being in here. It wasn't right to be like this when you're supposed to be a normal teen. I mean people your age went out to movies and malls. They disobeyed their parents and snuck out. The idea has always scared you so sneak out you did not, but you missed going to the mall with Hanni and Danielle while you dragged Jake and Jay along with you. You missed when Jake and Jay would in return drag you to watch the latest horror movie even though you don't particularly enjoy them. You missed going to watch jay and Jake play at the basketball games which you hadn't enjoyed but ever since they played you actually realized they were fun. Especially when you guys won wait- 'Oh my gosh' you though. Sunghoon had been here for years! Had he gone to school? Had he been to the mall recently? Watched the latest horror movie? Gone to a high school basketball game? It made you so so sad. He had missed so much of his life he he hadn't gone out. Then you made up your mind. You weren't gonna let this being sick thing control your and sunghoons life. Sunghoon probably hasn't lived as a teenager since ever, seeing from what Giselle had told you about him. So tomorrow you would ask him about what he thinks about this living life to the fullest. Hopefully you wouldn't back out of asking him.

"Heyy Y/n how was your morning?" Sunghoon asked with a very pretty smile. He was just wearing grey sweatpants and a black hoodie. While you wore a white tank top with grey baggy sweats and a light pink zip up hoodie. He sat where you had first seen him. He always sits in the lounge/Food area. You liked this area it's either quiet and the sun shines in through the windows beautifully or it was filled with people interacting with each other. Well it wasn't filled filled but it was enjoyable to see people laughing around. It reminded you of school but without the studying part.

"Hi Sunghoon! My morning was fine I just watched some t.v shows.. How was your morning?"

"Same I slept longer than usual so I didn't do much."

An awkward silence took over. You and Sunghoon were both very very awkward people so you didn't know what to talk to him about. It was a miracle you two talked about whatever yesterday and for a while too, but you realized you two only talked about random things you actually never really got to know him.

"So what got you into ice skating?" You broke the silence but it wasn't the best conversation starter since it would probably be a normal quick answer.

"Oh well when I was a kid I was less social I guess so my parents put me into hockey so I wouldn't be friendless." He lets out a small giggle with made you happy that he was smiling "But I tried figure skating once and I loved it a lot. It felt better because I didn't have like hockey gear, so I asked my parents and they signed me up right away."

"Oh so you had trouble talking to kids too? "

"Yeah don't tell me you did also?"

"I did I was friends with these kids throughout elementary but they just bullied me so I didn't make a lot of friends."

"What about your friends that you told me about?"

"I met them through my Orchestra class. I met my friend Jake and Danielle through my orchestra class, and I met jay and Hanni through them and we've been friends since middle school."

"So does that mean you know how to play an instrument?"

"Yeah I know the violin. So does Jake but Danielle plays Viola."

"That's cool I wished I was in a music class but figure skating took up most of my time at so I didn't really get to go to school. That brings me back to what I was wondering. Why do you want to learn to ice skate?".

"Uhm I don't know? Why wouldn't you want to learn how to skate on ice?" You giggled.

"It seems very fun and like when I see people do it they look so airy if that makes sense which it might not."

"Ohhh I get you. I guess I'm just cool like that knowing how to ice skate and like a pro too. You'll have a great teacher."

"Sure sure" you said rolling your eyes sarcastically.

"Y'know that makes me wonder why do you want to learn how to draw?" You had actually been wondering this for since he asked you about it but you figured he just wanted a hobby to do.

"I just want a hobby to keep me busy during these times. Plus we'll get to know each other better since you'll be the one teaching me right?" You were right about the hobby part, but the part he said after made your heart flutter a little bit. You couldn't believe he actually wanted to be your friend. Which made you wonder another question.

"Also, why didn't you get weirded out? I mean like when I followed you? Like that was pretty creepy dude like that was so so weird."

"Well when you put it like that, that was really really weird. I'm joking but not really. I just figured you were curious about me. I guess I also thought that you wanted to be friends."

"In my defense I was curious about you and I also wanted to be your friend. I just didn't come up with a normal solution to my problem so I thought i'd follow you." You said shrugging

"See I was right! You also need to figure out how to make friends because following people and stalking them is a little crazy" he said laughing as you groaned in embarrassment. Although you were happy he smiled at you. Gosh he was really pretty. Wait you shouldn't think that or your friends will be right.

"Yeah I do need to figure that out" you said sighing.

"So when did you start to draw?"

"Oh I think I've always drawn. Like Ive done it my whole life but I'm not that good to be honest."

"Nah you're just being shy! I saw your drawings last night and they were really good!Like the ones on your wall were so colorful!"

"Thank you!!" You were getting very flustered "I mean I'm okay but Im not very creative... Well actually lately I have been because I've been having weird dreams but i'm very creative."

"You're a very good artist y/n and you are very creative those dreams prove it!!"

"Thank you Sunghoon you're very kind" you were a giggly mess but you tried to hide it.

"Ohh sunghoon I brought my sketchbook and some pencils so if you want to draw?" You had totally forgotten that you did bring your art supplies but sunghoons compliments reminded you.

"I was hoping you did! I'm not good so you're gonna have to give me some pointers cuz I kinda suck"

"I don't believe you I bet you're great at drawing!!"

You gave sunghoon a piece of paper and a pencil. He told you that he was gonna draw a picture he found on Pinterest of a butterfly. 15 minutes later you were proven wrong, he kinda did suck at drawing.

"I told ya y/n.."

"Well yeah I guess you were right .. But Everyone has their skill level and you just need to practice!! Simple as that"

"I suck but with you're help I won't!"

"Okay I'm not sure how I can help you but I'll try my best ?" You were asking yourself that more than anything but it's fine you were going to be able to spend more time with him.

" I bet you're a great teacher!!Anyway whatcha drawing y/n??"

"Hmm?" You looked up at sunghoon once again. You had been so focused on drawing and listening to sunghoon that you drew him AND a penguin. Why a penguin? Maybe it was because they reminded you oddly of sunghoon.

"Oh uhm nothing important just uh..." you shouldn't have drawn him that's too creepy (but following him around the hospital wasn't).

"Just what?"

Maybe the penguin was more acceptable but the drawing of him was a no go, but before you could possibly scribble out his face he took your sketchbook from you.

"Woah."

"I'm sorry I just was to focused on what to draw and I was listening to you talk and I guess I just stared drawing and I kno-"

"Y/n this is really good!! I don't think I've ever had anyone draw me ever before!!! I'm actually really flattered and happy!! You really captured my good looks" Sunghoon said the last part with a cocky smirk.

"You actually like it? That's a relief cuz I thought you were think I'm a total creep once again"

"I could still think that you're a good artist and a creep"

"Whatever sunghoon" rolling your eyes as you said that.

"Wait what's this? A penguin? it's really cute!"

"Oh yeah penguins remind me of you I guess so I drew that subconsciously while I listened to you talk. Its adorable huh?"

"what? No."

"hey what? What do you mean no? "

"I'm not cute or adorable! I'm handsome and manly"

"Sunghoon I hate to break it to you but you're low-key a cutie"

"Nuh uh I'm hot and sexy"

"Yuh huh your cute!" Wait a second you just called him cute, but you didn't mean it like he was cute cute. Well he is but you meant it in like a cute penguin kind of way.

"Nuh uh once again. I'm very very hot."

"Sure bud whatever you say cutie"

"Whatever y/n. You should teach me how to draw a penguin though!!"

You started to teach him about drawing circles to map out your drawing and then continuing to go into detail and stuff. It took him about an hour to get something he liked and something that was acceptable to show you. As he drew he was focused so you guys stopped talking. Letting you start to think about what you were gonna ask him. You were nervous but you didn't know why. It was just a simple question. Okay it was now or never. At least that's what you thought.

"Uhm Sunghoon?"

"hmm?" He was so focused he didn't even look up.

"I was wondering if you miss being a teenager?"

"What do you mean y/n?" He didn't sound annoyed or mad so you continued.

"Well what I mean is do you miss living your life? You don't have to answer me but I haven't been here for very long and I miss it. Well I know I'm gonna be here awhile so I guess it's just fomo."

"oh I get it, I do miss it y/n you don't have to be afraid to ask. Ive been here longer so you can always ask me about stuff like this y/n. " Whew that was a relief.

"But it's not just me being curious. I don't want to just live my so called best years of my life in the hospital." You were worried if it sounded rude to say but it was good to get this off your chest. Ever since you started feeling sick you had missed out on lots of stuff. Ever since you got into the hospital you started to think a lot more about death. Sure it was kinda sad but that's what your brain had always wondered, and now especially since there's a bigger chance of you dying now. You wondered what happened after. Where would you go? Is there anything after? What would happen to your famiily and friends. Would they miss you? Or would they be glad that you weren't a burden anymore. Very sad and morbid thoughts but you couldn't help it. Before you could get lost in thought sunghoon started to talk

"Yeah it makes me gloomy sometimes too but it's okay but not okay if that makes sense"

"Well sunghoon I was thinking that you and me could try our best to live like regular teens? Like I dunno maybe we could go to basketball games, movies, maybe mall trips stuff like that?" You braced yourself for the worst. You were so scared of the rejection even if it was just between friends.

"That's a really great idea y/n! I've always wanted to do all that stuff but I didn't really have friends my age around here but now I do!!"

"I'm really glad you agreed sunghoon! My schools having a home game next week would you wanna go?"

"Yes I do really want to go! Will I be able to meet your friends?"

"Yeah I'll let them know that we're going!"

That was not as bad as you thought. You thought that he was gonna reject you and never speak to you ever again, but once again you over reacted and he wants to be your friend still!!

"Y/n I'm gonna be honest though I'm a little nervous. Ive never gone to a high school game before and ice skating didn't really help my socialness like my parents though it would.."

"It's okay sunghoon, they're super fun and people at my school are going to be nice to you. Especially the girls they'll think you're a model or something. They'll be obsessed."

"Hm? Do you think I'm attractive?"

Uhm no? Yes? What was the right response??

₍⁠₍⁠ ⁠◝⁠(⁠　ﾟ⁠∀⁠ ﾟ⁠ ⁠)⁠◟⁠ ⁠⁾⁠⁾

[exposing-eboys-left-and-right]

Torvaz/Johnathon

It's funny how easily narcissists can trick you into thinking they're amazing and get you to do or be anything for them.

Torvaz would know a lot about this. I was ready to fall head over heels for him, and sadly I did. I fell for the lovebombing.

It all turned into gaslighting and manipulation to make it seem like I was the bad guy in every scenario. Let me show you

This was over a period of 2-3 hours. He completely disregarded my boundaries of not wanting sexual comments to spring up on me like that, and then he later got mad that I didn't want to do online sexual stuff with him. He agreed to my wishes in the first part and then disregarded them 2 hours later.

Admittance that animals turn him on so much he has masturbated times before, and still feels this way towards animals.

Iconic abuse that was unprovoked and then screenshots of him choosing to ignore the things I was going through and not be there for me.

This was in response to an inside joke I had with a friend. He dared me to put "taken by the Invincible, Fearless, Sensual, Mysterious, Enchanting, Vigorous, Diligent, Overwhelming, Gorgeous, Passionate, Terrifying, Beautiful, Powerful, Grey Prince Zote." in my discord bio! It was funny and entertaining because it is a fictional character but he automatically attacked and said this

Even after I explained what it was, he still flew off the handle. Also, I did kick him from my server only because I like to keep my server clean and active so he was kicked for being inactive just like 15 other people. I also warned everyone in the server twice at separate intervals, I pinged everyone and if he bothered to look, he could have stopped from being kicked. After all of that because he claimed I was playing mind games, I offered my passwords to everything, remote access to my PC, everything to try and prove my case. He still wouldn't hear about it.

I had a piercing headache that day, and I couldn't even read my screen or type that well but I tried to have this conversation about our first sexual experience between us like adults and then he turned it sexual, again disregarding my boundaries and wouldn't take a hint. I had booked a ticket for this man to go see him so the conversation about this was likely to be brought up.

He made the claim that he didn't know anything about me booking a ticket when the dates were mutually agreed upon, I kept him updated on the process. He knew I booked them minutes later.

I was in the hospital for my epilepsy for 2 weeks, he would not stop requesting me to get into voice chat and help him masturbate and whatnot.

Let's address the accusations made towards me!

He and his family had suspicions that I was a scammer! All because he sent me $30 on two separate occasions, and that his ex did a thing where she ghosted him after saying she was flying out there. This is why I sent proof of the ticket receipt. Why would I show myself constantly on camera, nude or clothed if I was a scammer? Why would I do all the things a scammer WOULDN'T do if I was a scammer?

His accusation that I was the narcissist and the bad guy. I admit to saying TWO things out of almost TWO months, and I apologized for those things profusely. I never got an apology for him, only excuses

I reached out a week later to try and gain closure for both of us, and this is how that went. I went in there with the mindset to settle things and go our separate ways. I do not remain friends with exes, I need space first. The exes that I am friends with, both have respected the space and gave both of us ample time to relax and forgive/forget and now they are my best friends!

Torvaz is the most entitled narcissistic man-child that I have ever met with severe anger issues and cannot take accountability for anything.

The breakup text, I voiced several times that I do not remain friends with exes for a while but still he had the balls to put that there as if I was going to take him up on that offer. Ken and Ash are both exes, and I spent a long time after those breakups so if we were to become friends again, there would be no toxicity or resentment. I voiced that the beginning of the relationship, the middle of it, and several other times. He sent this message while I was asleep. I can respect his feelings but he's done enough of spreading false information, people asking what happened, and he said I asked too many questions. Another time he called me stupid. He also claims I never take accountability, but I did for the things I did that were clearly WRONG, and let me remind you, two things in the span of an almost 2-month relationship. I have proof that I not only apologized for my wrongdoing but also evidence of me apologizing for something HE did, and I cannot count on my fingers how many times I was gaslighted into thinking something or everything was my fault.

[mvsicinthedvrk]

big yikes, beta edition; xie lian & mu qing with @masqce continued from here

When Mu Qing returns with the water at sets it down in front of him, Xie Lian picks it up almost instantly, relishing in the cool glass under his fingers. He takes a sip, the flavor of lemon hitting his tongue with a burst of tang. It’s funny, he thinks. That the other will go to the trouble of offering him water like this and being so kindly hospitable every time he visits, when he completely overlooks the bigger issues of not simply being honest about murdering their friend. He really wishes he understood what Mu Qing is thinking at any point, because he can’t seem to make sense of it no matter how hard he tries. 

He acknowledges the stern tone in the other’s voice as he tells Xie Lian not to blame himself, but then-- who else could possibly be at fault? Since Mu Qing won’t admit to any. The man clearly feels negatively enough about killing Feng Xin, even though that’s not what Xie Lian thinks he should feel most poorly about, given that it's not as though he willingly chose to murder the other martial god... But Mu Qing still doesn’t seem to understand the genuine depths of Xie Lian’s discomfort with his obscuring of the truth, and if Mu Qing refuses blame, then-- it’s got to fall to Xie Lian, at least to some degree.

“Your decisions might not be my responsibility, but my actions or behavior still must have played a part,” he insists. “If I inspire such secrecy from you, then I’m doing something wrong, I just don’t know what.” Xie Lian doesn’t know how to fix this, that’s the problem. This circumstance is not something that can be quickly brushed off or easily solved with a quick agreement. As much as he hates to admit it, it feels like they’re at a standstill.

“Of course I want to hear what you think!” With a frown, he presses his lips together and inhales through his nose, trying to figure out how to proceed. Yet again. “We might have different ways of dealing with these things,” he accepts, his voice intentionally slower and steadier, “but I can’t let something like this happen again, so we are going to have to come up with a compromise… I can’t live every day worried about whether or not you’re keeping something so important from me, or I’ll go insane. And if I’m being honest, I’m stumped about how to move forward.” The best case scenario would be that this whole terrible situation passes with time, once they've both had a chance to process on their own-- but there's always the chance that time and space between them will make it worse, and that's the last thing that Xie Lian wants. "I don't want to be upset with you," he adds, in case that's not clear. It's only that it's difficult not to be, at this exact moment.

[bluenpjm]

the kang code ✹ 4 — knj x oc

© bluenpjm | all rights reserved. do not repost, translate or claim as your own.

synopsis. when you can’t trust your instincts anymore, what do you turn to? 

genre. murder au + detective namjoon + angst + fluff 

pairing. knj + oc 

rating. M

wordcount. 1.8K

warnings. ignoring needed medical care + the entire stress of a killer being on the loose 

chapters. previous — four — next // new chapters every day at 00:00 KST

May 10th, 2022.

My head hurts like hell. The paramedics said I should go to the hospital. They said I might have a concussion. But I can’t. How did I let this happen? Right in front of my eyes… I should’ve been more careful. Now Hyori might be — no might be, that wasn’t a sick joke. She is in danger. And all because of me. I will find her in time. Even if it is the last thing I do.

If Namjoon had stopped to think about the current situation he found himself in, he would probably consider the possibility of admitting himself to psychiatric arrest. This… this sudden behavior of his was very much out of character. This foolish thinking. Or better yet, this lack of thinking. At all. He was always analytical. Despite being sentimental and empathic. Although, his profession had quickly taken a tool on his soft side. Everyone was a suspect. Everyone. 

So this sudden connection with Hyori was... strange, to say the least. 

He would be lying if he were to say that he hadn't had this kind of platonic passion. Just a beautiful stranger that he would sometimes pass by in the street. A mind that seemed to match his on a deeper level. The scenarios he painted. His lack of social life would often make him reminisce — despite feeling very much empty — about the different outcomes that could happen to him. Only if he was brave enough to follow his feelings. To act on impulse. Be the guy from the movie that gets the girl. The guy that risks everything and still has his way in the end. 

But that had proven foolish. And it was a basic rule from the academy. Always focus on the evidence. Don't let your feelings get in the way. 

So to see Hyori come so swiftly into his life... If it could even be described as that. Such a short period of time had passed. Today was his fourth day in Busan, after all. And in that span of time, she had been the only thing in his mind. The thing that would make him relax when he became too anxious about the case he had been presented with. She was always there. The scenarios he had imagined before with strangers. But this time he had a name for the beautiful face. From the moment he would open his eyes and sometimes even while he had them close. Still, something in him told him she was more than that — that if he took the risk, she would mean more than a silly crush. Despite that, he was too stiff to follow his gut. Too scared. So, for the time being, he had decided to keep on dreaming — with her. 

Just like last night.

After waking up in the alley where he had last seen Hyori, he managed to walk back until he saw someone. He didn't have his phone with him. His notebook was gone, too. His badge... and then it hit him. The sudden weight he had been so accustomed to… His gun wasn’t perfectly attached to his belt anymore. He was in big trouble. He wasn't even supposed to have it in him. So far away from his jurisdiction… What was he thinking? The thing that at the beginning of the day had made him feel safer now was making him feel like he could faint at any time, his stomach swirling with the uncertainty of what his future would look like. For a second — and a second, really — he even pondered hiding such an important fact. He wasn’t that much of a coward, though. 

It had taken him crucial time to get help to the alley. And when Seokjin finally appeared, followed by two other patrol cars, Namjoon was losing it. 

Pacing back and forth, he tried his best to remember everything. Eventually, the paramedics had already given up trying to clean his wound. Seokjin was sitting on the ambulance, feet swaying, scrapping lightly on the asphalt. At the moment, he was more concerned with his friend's state than the information he was giving. Namjoon wasn’t one to lose his cool like that. And seeing him like that… well, let’s say it was making Seokjin question his stance on the case.

“Alright, Joon.” Seokjin finally gets up from the ambulance, his hand finding a place on Namjoon's shoulder. “Let's get you checked up first and then we can work with that.”

“No. It's been hours Jin. You know these are the most important. We need to move. Have people on the ground. They were in a van. By now they could be anywhere!” Namjoon raises his voice. 

“I know. And we are going to find her. For all we know, this could even be a trap.” It was funny how Seokjin had suddenly become the rational one of the two. And even more so, how such a simple astute comment had Namjoon fuming. 

“Fuck Jin. I got the note. He was watching me. And he was watching her.”

Seokjin sighs. “I believe you. But we need to do this smart. We don't know anything. Even if she's really a victim.”

Namjoon hadn't been able to shut his eyes. He was sitting by Seokjin's desk, eyes quickly yet carefully scanning the pictures in his hands. It didn't feel the same as analyzing his rough sketches in his notebook. His head was pounding, still, and it felt harder and harder to focus. Despite that, he was trying his best to focus.

Lifting his eyes from the printed paper, he saw Seokjin in the glass room, drawings on a whiteboard as tables were filled with officers in uniform. He was giving them the tactical move, the profile of the killer — which, if Namjoon could be honest, was very much still a blur in everyone's mind. 

Seokjin was trying to keep him away from the investigation. The reaction his old friend had was far from great. He couldn't quite understand why, but something made Namjoon's mind foggy when it came to the killer and the woman missing, and having him, in such a state, was a risk Seokjin couldn't and wouldn't take.

His eyes fall back to the papers in his hand. There was something hidden in the messages... Namjoon was certain of it. He wished he could have his notebook with him. There were so many notes written on the side of the pages, that he was certain he would already have some sort of thought formed about the case. Something that would help. 

Displaying all the pictures on the desk, he grabs the post-its, writing down the deciphered version and sticking them on top of the respective image. 

Can you solve this? Kang is my name. Next kill is in 24 hours.

Was I sloppy? I think not. Can you catch me? Or will I kill again?

And, of course, the one he had received the afternoon of the day before. The one no one seemed to believe he had seen. 

You are so easy to find. Are you taking the right steps? Think again, pig. No one is safe. Tictoc.

The highlighted words in each message made less and less sense to him. 

24 hours.

You. Will. Kill.

You. Find. The. Right. Steps. Tictoc.

There had to be some sort of hidden message. Namjoon was certain of it. But he couldn't figure it out. If he could... by now Hyori could be safe and sound and the killer would have been stopped, put behind bars, where he wouldn't be able to hurt anyone, anymore. 

He sighs heavily, gaining some looks from the officers at the nearby desks. He gives them a small smile, fingers finding his hair. For a moment, he rests his hands there. His mind is absolutely blank as he stares at the papers. 

Readjusting his position on the chair, he furrows his brows. Let’s do this, he thinks.

There were two indicators of time. The 24 hours and the tictoc. But truth be told, those could mean anything. Hyori's voice echoes in his mind, as she points out all the different meanings the number could have. A date, a time, a street name… And following his gut, he decides to look up the maps of the area. 

“Seokjin!” He calls out, seeing the man leaving the glass room. “I think I may have something.”

“That’s my man!” Seokjin pats his back, before leaning next to him, ready to take in all the information. 

“See here-” Namjoon points at the red crosses on the map. “These were where the two victims were found. And here, this street… it could be a long way, but hear me out.” 

Namjoon grabs the papers from the desk with the first cipher. 

“We immediately assumed this was an hour- you know because the second body showed up just a day after. But what if it isn’t?” 

“What is it then?” Seokjin makes a somewhat confused face. 

“A street,” Namjoon says brightly. 

“Did you pull satellite images yet?” 

“I did.” Clicking on the computer, he continues his explanation. “This street stands perfectly between the two alleys. There isn’t a number 24, I checked. But there’s a series of abandoned houses that could be the perfect spot. There’s also no surveillance on some routes he could’ve taken. Only on the main street but considering the van, he could easily slip the bodies in and drop them later.” 

Seokjin nods, hand finding his chin as he caresses it, thinking hard. 

“Perfect. If he has the woman, she will be there. Otherwise, it would be unnecessary far. Stupid even.” Seokjin concludes, a pleased smile on his face. “I mean, he is about to get caught, so he can’t be that smart.” 

Namjoon begins to get up from the chair, right after Seokjin. “I agree.” He chuckles. 

“You should stay here.” Seokjin’s hand stops Namjoon, resting on his shoulder and the smile the former had on his lips is quick to fade. “You’re our brains. If you think of anything else, just let me know, yeah?” 

Namjoon can’t help but just nod, his lips pressed tightly as all he wanted to do was oppose the leading detective’s order. He slumps in the chair, chin resting on his balled fist. He watches all the officers follow Seokjin into the garage. Namjoon feels useless. 

An hour goes by and through the communicator, Namjoon listens attentively. He left the main area, secluding himself in the break room. By now, all the buildings begin to be scavenged by Seokjin and the rest of the officers. He listens, one by one, as each update comes out as a failure. Empty houses. And nothing but the growing pain in Namjoon’s chest. 

“Mr. Kim,” an officer knocks on the door. “There’s a package for you. At the front desk.” 

“For me?” Namjoon frowns but is already getting up. 

A craft package is handed to him as soon as he reaches the counter. 형사 김남준 is written on the front, in big, bold, red letters. He thanked the officer, before returning to the break room. He fights the urge to open it, a feeling of whom it might be from. 

[ chapter five ]

[sunflowervolvimp3]

NFWMB (boxer!harry)

Warnings: language, nsfw content, alcohol, violence

Pairing: boxer!Harry x reader

Word Count: 30k (I got carried away)

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

{masterlist}

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

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

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

WANTED:

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

Complete medical degree not required.

For all inquiries, contact Patrick Lawson.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You ever stitched somebody up before?”

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

“What about set broken bones?  Noses?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not!  I’m just saying—”

“She’s trying to help you—”

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

“Y/N?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

“So how’s the new job?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Every boxer except Harry, that is.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He was, until two weeks ago.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

“Hello?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But—”

The line clicks dead.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“With the boxers? Yeah—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I can’t stay—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

Thanks again for the help. -H

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And here it is.  The fall of Harry Styles.

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

That’s where Y/N decides to start.

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

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

“Harry.” She speaks in a calm but firm voice. “Open your eyes for me, Harry. Can you do that?”

His eyelids flutter at her voice, the green that she’s come to know barely peaking through.  Y/N flicks on the penlight, carefully raising one of his eyelids and then the other while shining the light in his eyes.  The dilation of his pupils is slightly uneven, but Y/N ignores the sick feeling that it causes in her stomach so that she can continue to work.

“Jeff.” She calls over her shoulder. “Put on gloves and apply pressure to the gash on his forehead.  Keep talking to him while you do it.”

Jeff steps forward and follows her instructions exactly.  She hears him muttering to Harry, but can’t make out the words as her focus shifts to Harry’s abdomen.  His breathing is still shallow, much too shallow for her liking, and she’s worried that something is affecting his lungs.

“Patrick, I need my stetho—” Before Y/N finishes the sentence, Patrick is already holding out the item for her, swapping it for her penlight.  She mutters a quick “thank you” as she slips the ends in her ears. “Harry, I need you to take a deep breath for me, alright?” She places the stethoscope on his chest. “As deep as you can.”

Harry sucks in a breath, but quickly moans in pain.

Y/N curses under her breath. “Again, Harry.  As deep as you can.”

Again, the only breath he can take is shallow and constricted.  Y/N loops the stethoscope around her neck as she begins to examine his chest, her fingers prodding around the bruises.  When she gets to his ribs, Harry lets out another cry, jerking forward on the table.

“Keep him still.” Y/N commands Jeff and the other man, who she finally recognizes as a gym trainer named Nick.  She pushes on the same spot, her face grim as she receives the same reaction.

“I think he has a fractured rib.” She glances at Jeff before continuing her examination. “Just one, I think, but there’s definitely something wrong.  It doesn’t feel completely broken, or like there’s any splinters, but that last hit to his chest—” Y/N’s demeanor begins to slip as she remembers the sight of Harry lying on the floor of the ring, and she shakes her head to clear the image from her mind.  She needs to focus. “Yeah.  Fractured rib.”

Y/N moves through the checklist in her mind, turning her attention to Harry’s injured hand.  It’s still wrapped from his fight, so she grabs her bandage scissors from her bag to get a better look at the damage.  She tries to be careful as she cuts, but she knows Harry’s in pain, and she wishes she had stronger medicine to offer than an extra strength ibuprofen.

It doesn’t take her long to guess that his hand is fractured.  Of course, she can’t be entirely sure without an X-ray, but the closest thing to an X-ray machine that she has at her disposal is the vending machine down the hall.  Y/N does her best to clean the cuts on his knuckles, carefully bandaging them before looking up at Patrick.

“Go to the pharmacy and buy a hand brace.” She tells him as she wraps a cold compress around Harry’s hand. “Something sturdy.  And get more painkillers.”

Patrick disappears with a nod, leaving Y/N with just Jeff and Nick to help her.  She sets another cold compress over his abdomen before working her way up to the injuries that look the worst.

Harry’s nose, she’s surprised to find, isn’t broken.  She can touch it without hearing any cracking sounds, and, to her relief, the majority of the blood beneath his nose is from the initial hit. She instructs Jeff to hold another cold compress lightly to the area before she moves to the gash on his forehead.

From the first look, Y/N knows it’s bad.  Despite the pressure Jeff’s been applying, the gash hasn’t stopped bleeding, and seems to be tearing more every time Harry’s forehead contracts in pain. She wipes more blood from the area as the dread in her stomach grows.

“I think…” Y/N takes a deep breath through her mouth. “I’m going to have to stitch it.”

Jeff and Nick exchange a look with each other as Y/N pushes back Harry’s sweat and blood slicked curls from his forehead.

“Nick, grab me two ibuprofen and some water.  And Jeff, pass me my suturing kit, will you?  It’s probably towards the bottom of my bag.” Y/N waits until the two men are preoccupied with their tasks to address Harry.  His eyes are still closed, but he’s vocal enough to voice when he’s in pain. “Harry.” She murmurs, smoothing his hair again. “Harry, do you know where you are?”

Harry sucks in another shallow breath as his eyelids crack open. “I-I’m—the locker room.  In the locker room.”

Y/N nods quickly. “You are.  Do you remember what happened?”

“Had a…” Harry’s brow furrows, causing a fresh stream of blood to drip from the gash.  Y/N applies more pressure as he speaks. “Had a match.  Got hurt.”

“You did.” Y/N nods again, glancing at the medicine in Nick’s hand. Harry’s responses ease her worries of a serious concussion, so she motions Nick over. “You have a bad cut on your forehead, Harry, so I need you to take this medicine before I fix it, alright?”

Harry makes a noise of understanding in the back of his throat, and Y/N swaps out her gloves and prepares her sutures while Nick helps Harry swallow the pills.  She prays that she hasn’t underestimated the severity of his head injury, and that the medicine won’t do more damage than good.  She knows it’s risky, but she just wants to give him something to ease his pain, even if it’s only a fraction of the painkillers he actually needs.

Jeff sets up a folding chair for Y/N, so she can sit and be more comfortable as she stitches the gash closed.  Y/N steadies herself against the cold metal chair before turning her attention back to Harry.

“I’m going to stitch you now, Harry, alright?” She says in a clear voice. “It—it’s going to hurt, but I have to do it.  If the pain gets really bad—” she nods at Jeff, who takes Harry’s uninjured hand in his own. “Squeeze Jeff’s hand, but only with your left hand. Do you understand?”

Harry manages to mutter a weak “yeah,” before his eyes clamp shut again.

Stitching somebody up in a locker room is about as awful as Y/N imagined it would be.

She knows that each tug of the needle through Harry’s skin hurts him badly, and with no anesthetic, the pain only increases with each stitch.  Harry, to his credit, does his best to stay still, gritting his teeth and squeezing Jeff’s hand until it turns blue, but small moans and whimpers still escape him every few minutes.  When Y/N finally finishes, cleaning and bandaging the now-closed wound, the entire room breathes a sigh of relief.

Patrick returns a few minutes later with more medicine and a brace, which Y/N carefully straps onto Harry’s fractured hand.  After that, all that’s left for her to do is to wipe more blood from his face and say a prayer.

The pain medication now finally starting to kick in, Harry begins to doze off, his breathing shallow yet even.  It’s not until his eyes completely close that the exhaustion and emotions catch up with Y/N, and she leans against the lockers, her back sliding down them until she’s seated on the ground with her knees pulled to her chest.

Patrick crouches down next to her, taking off her plastic gloves and handing her a water bottle. “You did good, Doc.” He mutters, rubbing her shoulder. “Really good.”

Y/N takes the water from him, but offers no other response.  It’ll take her a bit of time to forgive Patrick for this, she thinks, although she knows most of the blame is on Harry’s shoulders.  

Jeff sits down in the metal hair he brought for Y/N and lets out a long sigh. “Thank you, Y/N.  If it weren’t for you, I don’t know…”

“He shouldn’t have been fighting tonight, Jeff.” Y/N says in a thick voice, her fingers picking at the label on the bottle. “He was injured, and—”

“I tried to stop him.” Jeff glances at Harry’s sleeping form. “He’s so fucking stubborn.  He insisted on fighting.”

“No more.” Y/N shakes her head. “No more fights.  Not until he’s completely recovered.”

No one contradicts her.

Nick reappears in the doorway, despite Y/N not even realizing he had left the room, with a pair of keys in his hand. “I got the car ready, Jeff.  We can move him whenever.”

“Where are you taking him?” Y/N asks, and while she hopes the answer is “a hospital,” she knows it won’t be.

“Back to his apartment.” Jeff stands up slowly, wiping his hands on his pants. “I’ll stay with him for a bit, make sure he’s alright.” He glances at Y/N. “Can I call you if—?”

Y/N nods before he even finishes the sentence, her eyes trained on the rise and fall of Harry’s chest.  It had soothed her less two nights before, and its continuation still soothed her now. “Yeah.  Call me if he needs anything.  I’ll come right over.”

…

It takes five days for Harry’s name to pop up on Y/N’s phone screen.  

While she normally keeps her phone on do not disturb during class, she programmed his number to come through, just in case there was any sort of emergency.  The sound of her phone vibrating on her desk makes her jump, and she sends an apologetic look to her professor, reaching to turn it off.  When she sees Harry’s name, however, her heart begins to pound.

She ducks outside the classroom quickly before she answers.  Y/N had been dying to hear from Jeff on Harry’s recovery, but now that the call was actually coming, she worries that the call isn’t just for an update.

“Jeff?” She asks, assuming the coach is on the other line. “Is everything alright?”

“Uh—” It takes just one syllable for Y/N’s heart to stop. “It’s Harry, not Jeff.”

Y/N walks further away from her classroom, glancing around to see if she’s alone. “It’s good to hear your voice.” Y/N murmurs. “How—how are you feeling?”

A dry chuckle echoes through the phone. “Like shit, but that’s to be expected. Jeff told me I have a fractured rib?”

“And a fractured hand, and a mild concussion.” Y/N bites her lip. “Your nose wasn’t broken, though, so…at least there’s that.”

“Yeah.  There’s that.”

Y/N rubs her eyes as she leans against the corridor wall, her gaze trained on the trees outside the window. “I—Jeff said he’d call me if there was anything wrong, so—I would’ve stopped by—”

“No, I’ve been fine.  Just in pain, but that’s to be expected.” Harry assures her.  Y/N can almost picture him running his (not broken) hand through his hair. “You’re busy with school.  I understand.”

“Yeah, but—” Y/N lowers her voice as a group of students walks by. “My class finishes in an hour.  Can I come see you tonight?”

There’s silence on the other end, and for a moment, Y/N begins to worry that she’s overstepped a boundary.  She opens her mouth to apologize when Harry finally answers.

“Yeah.  You can.”

…

Y/N’s medical knowledge tells her that things have to get worse before they can get better.  She’s seen it time and time again, not only in cases she studies, but in her life. For things to heal, they have to hurt.

And yet, when Harry opens the door to his apartment, her breath still freezes in her chest.

More bruises have settled in since she last saw him in the locker room. Dark purple stains down his skin, across his jaw, under his eye, and if Harry wasn’t wearing a black t-shirt, she knows she would see more scattered across his chest.  To Y/N’s relief, however, the swelling in his face has gone down, and it’s obvious that the bandage over his stitched wound has been changed, albeit a bit clumsily.  His fractured hand is held gently at his side, so as not to agitate it, but Y/N can tell that the fractured rib is bothering him as he breathes carefully.

“Hi.” Harry opens the door wider, stepping back to allow her inside. “Come on in.”

Y/N steps over the threshold, her gaze turning from Harry’s injuries to his apartment.  It’s a little bigger than hers, she notices, and estimates that it’s a one bedroom with actual spaces dedicated for separate things.  Although he mostly sticks to a grey colour pallet in his minimalist decorating, Y/N can pick out objects that tell her this is where Harry lives.  A framed photo of him and a woman who looks just like him sits on the table next to the couch.  A pair of red boxing gloves dangle off the edge of the closet door. Harry’s familiar cologne lingers in the air, mixing with the scent of a candle he has lit in the living room. Despite the grey tones, the apartment feels just as warm as Harry does.

“I like your place.” Y/N stands in the hallway awkwardly, not sure of where to go. “It’s nice.”

“Thanks.” Harry shuts the door with his good hand before gesturing for her to sit down. “You can, uh, sit on the couch if you’d like.  Do you want something to drink?”

Y/N shakes her head. “No, I’m fine, thank you.  But you should drink some water.”

An unbelieving laugh leaves Harry’s mouth, but he moves to the kitchen nonetheless. “Are you telling me what to do in my own home?”

“Yes.  You have to be hydrated to heal.” Y/N watches as Harry fills two glasses with a water filter from the fridge, her mouth falling open slightly when Harry manages to pick up both filled glasses with his good hand.  Although the sight sets off a familiar flutter in her stomach, she manages to come to her senses enough to snap her mouth shut again by the time he turns around.

Harry sets the glass down on the coffee table in front of her before gingerly sitting down on the other side of the couch.  While he’s trying to mask his discomfort, Y/N can detect it easily.

“Is it your rib?” She asks, worry slipping into her voice. “Is it hurting you?”

Harry manages to give a small shrug. “’S not awful.  I’ve been taking some ibuprofen for pain, like you said.”

Y/N twists her ring around her finger, the fidgeting helping to keep her centered. “I’d get you something stronger if I could, but—”

“You’ve done more than enough for me, Y/N.” Harry cuts over her with a firm look. “Don’t worry about it.”

Y/N can’t look at Harry.  She can’t. If she does, she knows that all she’s going to be able to see is the bruises and bandages and braces, and she’ll start to cry.  And if she starts to cry, she won’t stop, and then she’ll just be upset and crying in Harry’s living room, all because she looked at him, and that’s not what she’s going to do.  She repeats the thought in her head like a mantra.  That’s not what she’s going to do.  That’s not what she’s going to do.

And then she looks at Harry.

Harry is already looking at her.  The longer they’ve spent together, the more she’s noticed cracks in his calm façade, and in this moment, those cracks are wide open.  The problem, however, is that Y/N can never decipher what exactly those cracks show her.  Harry’s face, even while emotional, is unreadable.  She can’t understand the feelings swirling through his green eyes any more than she can understand the flexing and unflexing of his uninjured hand. Is it a nervous tic?  Is he trying to calm himself, like Y/N does when she plays with her ring?  Is he trying to restrain himself from reaching over to touch her, like the night he showed up at her door?  While all those questions flip through her mind, only one passes through her lips.

“Why did you do it, Harry?” She asks, voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking any louder will shatter the space between them.

Harry takes a long sip of water like he’s stalling for an answer, trying to find anything worth saying. “I needed the money, Y/N.  And I couldn’t—getting the shit beat out of me by Bowers was better than forfeiting to him.  I couldn’t do that.  I couldn’t give him the satisfaction.”

“That—” Y/N sucks in a breath, trying to remind her lungs to move the air in and out of her body. “That is…ridiculously idiotic, and prideful, and stupid, and a million other things, but that’s not what I meant.” She steels herself before meeting Harry’s eyes again, willing herself to sound less like a child and more like a woman. “I was asking why you left me that morning, after…after you stayed the night.”

For the first time since she arrived, it’s Harry’s eyes that are unable to meet hers.  He drops his gaze to his injured hand, cradling it in his lap, and Y/N takes his silence as a signal for her to continue.

“You just—I told you it was fine for you to stay.  And then the next morning you were gone, and your note…” Y/N can’t help but scoff. “‘Thanks again for the help’?  Really?  That’s all you had to say to me?”

Harry clears his throat as his good hand begins to tap against his thigh. “It’s not all I had to say, I just—I couldn’t say everything in a note.”

“Why did you even have to leave a note?” Y/N asks incredulously. “That’s the whole point, Harry!  You left, didn’t call me, or tell me that you were alright, and then the next time I saw you, you were getting beat half to death.  That’s not…fair.”

At that word, Harry’s eyes widen, and his face contorts into an expression Y/N can finally read: disbelief. “Fair?” He repeats, accent thick. “It’s not fair?  Nothing in life is fair, Y/N.  I didn’t call you because I’m not yours, and you’re not mine.  I let myself pretend a bit that night, while I was drunk, but I shouldn’t have.  If there’s anything that wasn’t fair, anything I have to apologize for, it’s that.”

The tears come then, pricking her eyes with an irritating heat as she drops her gaze into her lap. “So you—you showed up at my apartment in the middle of the night, bleeding and injured and drunk, and you spend the night so I can make sure you’re safe, and the only thing you think you have to apologize for is—is pretending?” Y/N shakes her head. “What does that even mean?”

“It means I shouldn’t even have been there in the first place.  And after I showed up, I should’ve been more careful. More in control.” Harry stares down at his hands again, not to avoid her gaze, but to think about what they did that night. “I shouldn’t have talked to you like I did.  I shouldn’t have asked questions.  I shouldn’t have touched you.  I shouldn’t have crossed all the lines I set for myself months ago.  But I did, and I’m sorry.”

“I’m not sorry.” Y/N wraps her arms around herself tightly, and although the force against her is comforting, she’d prefer it if the arms weren’t hers. “I’d rather you come to me for help than stumble home in the dark, and I…” A chill runs through her, and she rubs her arms a bit to keep warm.  Being away from Harry and his fire takes its toll. “I didn’t mind you asking questions, or touching me.  I liked it.  I thought I made that obvious.”

Harry’s face flicks back to the expression that she’s unable to read. “Nevertheless—”

“Do you honestly think you’re the only one who set lines and boundaries?” Y/N turns her gaze back to Harry, taking in the closed off posture he displays. She hates it almost as much as she hates her own guarded appearance. “I did, too, but the more we talked, the more I started to waver.  The boundaries were out the window the moment you stepped into my apartment, Harry.  And we can go back and forth and debate who crossed what line first, but the truth is, we both knew exactly what we were doing, so don’t—” Y/N gestures at him, how he’s turned his body away from her. “Don’t sit there and act like you’re the only one to blame when I took every step with you.”

Her final words are followed by silence and all the sounds that fill it. The ticking of the clock on the wall, the dripping of the kitchen sink, the laboured sound of Harry’s shallow breathing, the pounding of Y/N’s own heart.  She focuses on each individual sound, each one an ode to whatever it is that’s been hanging between them since the night they met, until Harry finally responds in a low and controlled voice.

“I didn’t think that you…wanted me like that.” He begins slowly, his body finally turning to look at Y/N straight on.  She can see the strain on his face, and how difficult this movement is for him, but he doesn’t stop until he can meet her eyes.

The sight of his green irises takes all the fight out of her.

“How could you not realize that?” Y/N crosses her legs underneath her, placing her palms flat against her thighs.  If she wants to have an open conversation, she thinks, then she needs to be open.

“Because you’re you.  And I’m…” Harry’s head turns just for a moment as he gathers his thoughts. “I told you last week.  You’re a healer, in every sense of the word, and I’m the complete opposite.”

“And I told you,” Y/N says stubbornly. “That I don’t buy that for a minute.  I meant it when I said I wasn’t afraid of you.  And for once, you were being honest, and I thought that we were going to move forward together.”

A sharp laugh falls from Harry’s lips, followed by a wince as his good hand rubs gently over his ribs. “Honest?  Do you have any idea of how much I managed to hold back that night? I was half pissed, sitting on your couch, feeling you touch me, while things I had never said out loud before were coming out of my mouth, and I still didn’t tell you the worst of it.” Harry drags his hand through his hair roughly. “I don’t know, maybe I should’ve. Maybe you would’ve left by now, and saved yourself the trouble.”

“Stop it!” Y/N takes his hand, weaving their fingers together like she did when he was at her apartment. “You keep—it’s like you want to create this narrative where I’m good and you’re bad.  That’s not true!” She presses her other hand over his. “We’re both here.  We both ended up in the same place.”

“But what about after?” Harry’s voice is tight as his gaze settles on their locked hands. “The difference between us is that you have a life outside of that gym that’s waiting for you.  But the gym is my life.  Boxing is my life.  I don’t have any other career to hold out for, Y/N.  There’s nothing for me except boxing, and there’s everything for you.”

“What about me?” Y/N brings Harry’s fingers to her lips, pressing small kisses to the tips like he had done for her. “You could have boxing and me. If you were just honest with me, if you opened up completely, I’d do the same.”

Harry exhales slowly, closing his eyes at the feeling of your lips dancing over his hand. “It doesn’t work like that, Y/N.  I wish it did, but it doesn’t.”

“Who decides if it works like that?”

The corner of Harry’s lip twitches, and Y/N knows he’s remembering one of the first conversations they had, when he asked who decided what he needed to know.  Y/N wonders if that was the first line that was crossed.

“I do.” Harry says after a moment. “I decide.”

…

With how little she knows about Harry, Y/N would’ve expected forgetting him to be easier.

She can count on one hand the number of personal facts that she knows about him, with at least three of them involve his boxing, and yet…when she’s home in the evenings, her schoolwork done, her mind free to roam, it’s always Harry’s face that she sees.

Y/N had known that Harry’s first night back would be hard.  After six weeks of being away from the ring, recovering from his injuries, Harry’s return to the ring would be the first time she’s seen him since he got hurt.  Patrick had forewarned her about him coming back two weeks ago, and although he mentioned it like an update, Y/N knows he was saying it to caution her.  She had assured him that Harry’s return had no personal meaning to her, and no affect on her, but as she makes her way to the locker rooms after the match, her nerves are as high strung as they’ve ever been.

The match between Harry and an unexperienced boxer named Jackson ends within minutes, with Harry the unsurprising victor, but the match had only been a small source of her anxiety.  As she set Jackson’s nose (Harry seems to be back to his old patterns), her mind was on one thing and one thing only.

Compared to the last time she saw Harry’s locker room, the place looks like a paradise.  The floors are stained with sweat instead of blood.  The brown stains in the sink are only from rust.  And the blood that’s splattered on Harry’s forehead isn’t his own.

“You’re getting quicker, Doc.” Jeff comments in lieu of a hello. “Harry hasn’t even had time to shower yet.”

Y/N glances at the sweaty boxer sitting on the bench, who is currently preoccupied with the incredibly difficult task of unwrapping his hands. “I’ve had more practice, I suppose.”

Taking her seat next to Harry, she opens her case and slips on a pair of disposable gloves.  Jeff and Patrick stand in the corner, discussing Harry’s return to the ring, as Y/N focuses on the work that she’s here to do.

“You have a bruise on your jaw, but that’s about it.” Y/N touches his chin gently, tilting his head to a different angle. “How do you feel?”

“Fine.” Harry says shortly, giving a quick nod of his head. “Yeah, I feel fine.  It felt good to be out there again.”

Y/N’s eyes flicker to the new scar on his forehead before turning her attention to his hands. “Did you wrap your right hand tighter tonight?”

“I did.” Harry nods again. “And I’ve been using the brace at home, like you told me to.”

“Good.” After a quick check, Y/N moves to his abdomen, pressing carefully. “Have you been having any difficulties breathing?”

Harry shakes his head. “No, it’s much better.  It only hurts if I stretch a lot, and only for a second.”

“Just some residual bruising, probably.” Y/N bites her lip as her fingers brush over his tattoos. “It’s to be expected.”

Harry’s gaze finally catches her own, as unreadable and cavernous as ever, and Y/N clears her throat as she pulls her hands away. “I think you’re all good. Jackson barely touched you tonight.”

“I wanted to give him someone easy to ease him back into the ring.” Patrick joins the conversation. “I need to build my champion back up.”

Irritation flickers across Harry’s face for a brief moment.  Y/N can tell that he doesn’t like the idea of being eased into something.

“We appreciate it, Patrick.” Jeff claps a hand over the gym owner’s shoulder. “Why don’t we go discuss next week in your office?”

Patrick glances at Y/N, who’s busying herself with rooting around in her medical kit. “Yeah.  Alright.” He says after a moment. “Are you two good here?”

Y/N nods, not lifting her head to watch the two men leave the locker room. She keeps her eyes glued to anything but Harry as she stands, snapping off her gloves and tossing them in the trash.

“Well, you’re good to go.” She says after a moment. “I’ll, um, I’ll see you next week.”

“Wait.” Harry catches her arm when she reaches for the kit. “Y/N, wait, I—just wait.”

The familiar burn of Harry touching her courses through her arm, and Y/N bites her lip to keep the sigh of relief from slipping out of her. “What?”

“Look at me.” Harry murmurs, his voice lower than normal. “Please look at me.”

Y/N finally raises her head, looking Harry in the eyes again.  She can tell he’s searching for something in her stare, but she’s not sure what.  If she knew, she’d give it to him in a heartbeat.  Or maybe she’d withhold it, she muses, so that he’d keep searching, his arm on hers.

“What?” She asks after a moment, Harry still looking up at her. “What? What is it?”

“I…” Harry clears his throat as his hand drops slightly, his grip falling from her forearm to her wrist. “Did you watch the match?”

Y/N nods, hoping her disappointment at the innocence of his question isn’t too apparent on her face. “I did.  I always do.”

“I know, but I wasn’t sure if…” Harry’s gaze flickers to his hand on your wrist. “I wasn’t sure if you’d want to.”

“It’s my job.” Y/N tries to sound professional, tries to reinstate the boundaries that they so carelessly broke, but there’s nothing professional about the way Harry is threading his fingers through hers as he pulls her back down to the bench.

“I missed you.” He says quietly, his thumb moving over the back of her knuckles. “I wanted to call, but I didn’t want to…I wanted you to move on.”

“Is that why you’re holding my hand?” Y/N raises an eyebrow, but she doesn’t pull away.

Harry tugs his bottom lip between his teeth. “Holding your hand is more for myself right now.”

“You can’t do that, Harry.” Y/N’s voice grows tighter as she wills herself to pull her hand away. “You can’t just—you can’t say things like that.  Not after what you said before.”

“I know—”

“No, you don’t.” Y/N finally pulls her hand away, grabbing her medical kit before taking a step back from him.  Harry watches her movements with disappointed eyes. “You don’t know.  You don’t want to give us a chance?  You don’t want to open yourself up to me? Then fine.  Don’t.  But don’t expect me to do anything more than my job.  Is that understood?”

Harry’s mouth presses into a tight line. “Understood.”

…

It’s four A.M. when Harry knocks on Y/N’s door two weeks later.

Y/N, like most people at this time of the very early morning, is in bed when she hears the frantic knocking on her front door.  She’s been asleep for less than two hours, having only made it back home from that night’s match at two A.M. (Harry had dislocated his opponent’s shoulder, as well as split the skin of his forehead, and it took her some time to clean them up), and almost doesn’t get up.  Her neighbours have no problem with making as much noise as they see fit at any time of the day, and she assumes it’s one of their drunk friends trying to find a place to stay overnight.  Thinking she’ll just wait for them to go away, Y/N pulls her comforter up to her chin tightly.

And then the person knocks again.  And again.  And again.

Once it’s clear that she won’t be getting any sleep until she deals with whoever is pounding on her front door, Y/N angrily pulls herself out from under her covers, throwing a hoodie over her tank top to cover herself.  She grumbles to herself as she walks from her bed to her front door, ready to curse out whoever it is that gets so drunk that they can’t remember which apartment their friends live in.

And then she sees Harry.

He looks more or less the same as he did when Y/N left him at the gym two hours ago, save for the black eye that’s darkened in her absence.  His curls are wild, falling carelessly over his shoulders to dust the top of his long jacket.  He’s dressed in casual street clothes, covering up the tattoos that Y/N’s gotten so used to seeing every week.  His expression, like always, is unreadable, but when Y/N meets Harry’s eyes after he looks her up and down, she can define one thing: longing.

Then again, she may just be imagining that as a symptom of sleep deprivation.

“Harry, what are you doing here?” Y/N demands, opening her door a little wider once she realizes that he’s not a stranger. “It’s four in the morning!”

“I know.  I’m sorry.” Harry glances over her shoulder, as if he’s checking to make sure she’s alone. “Can I come in?”

Y/N’s mouth drops open in confusion, but she still takes a step back from the door.  Where else is he supposed to go at this time of night? “I—yeah.  Alright.”

Harry walks into her apartment slowly, his eyes scanning her living space like he’s seeing it for the first time.  Y/N thinks that maybe he doesn’t remember much about it from when he was last here, seeing he had been drunk and in pain at the time.  Still, she doesn’t appreciate how he seems to be evaluating how she lives, especially when he smirks as he spots the teddy bear on her bed that she had hidden when he was last there.

“Did I wake you?” Harry asks slowly, as if the idea that Y/N had been sleeping had just occurred to him.

“It’s four in the morning.” Y/N repeats in a deadpan voice. “Yes.  You woke me, and you better have a damn good reason for it.” Her eyes scan over his body again, in case there’s an injury from the fight that she didn’t notice before.  Or a stab wound.  Honestly, with Harry, she feels like there are any number of things that he could show up at her door to ask for help with.

And she knows that she’d help him.  No matter what.

Harry rakes a hand through his loose hair, and Y/N wonders how his rings don’t get caught as he does it.  Then she tells herself to stop looking at his rings, because if she looks at his rings, she’ll look at his hands, and if she looks at his hands—

“My dad left when I was a kid.”

Harry’s voice snaps Y/N out of her thoughts.  She refocuses on him, watching as the cracks in his façade slowly open up again to reveal the nervousness behind his words.

“What?” She asks, brow furrowing in confusion.  Y/N thinks that she should tell him to sit, but by the energy radiating off of Harry, she doesn’t think he’ll listen.

“My dad left when I was a kid.” Harry repeats, his voice wavering for just a second.  He clears his throat before continuing. “I was around seven when he ran off, and then it was just my mum, my sister, and I.  My mum did her best to take care of us herself, but it—it was hard.  We never really had much, and what we did have, she spent on my sister and I, to make sure that we were alright.”

“Harry, I don’t understand.” Y/N reaches for him hesitantly, but pauses before her fingers actually make contact with his jacket. “Why are you telling me this?”

Harry licks his lips once, and Y/N watches as he flexes and unflexes his right hand. “I’m trying to…to be open.  To be honest.”

A beat passes between them before Y/N comprehends his words. “You—what?”

“You said I had to be honest with you.” Harry’s teeth worry his bottom lip, chewing it for a moment before he continues. “And I-I want to try it.  I want to make this work—make us work. I’ve been thinking about it for the last few weeks, but tonight, when you were helping me after the match, I just—” The words are spilling out of him faster than they ever have before, like a dam has burst, and Harry is getting washed away in the flood.  And taking Y/N with him. “I wanted to kiss you.  I almost did, but that wouldn’t be right of me, because you told me what you wanted, and what you needed, so I went home, but I couldn’t stop thinking about you, and missing you, and wanting you, because I want you so bad, Y/N—”

“Harry.” Y/N touches his shoulder this time, rubbing her hand against him in soothing circles. “Take a deep breath, yeah?  Slow down.  How about we sit down on the couch, and I’ll get us a drink, and then we’ll talk, okay?”

Harry’s eyes soften at the suggestion, and colour rushes to his cheeks, flushing his pale skin to a light pink. “Yeah.” He mumbles, his hands rubbing over the sleeves of his jacket. “I want that.”

The way he says, “I want that,” such a simple phrase, causes Y/N’s heart to thump in her chest.  There’s something so sincere in his tone, but Y/N doesn’t want to let herself hope. She needs to hear everything he has to say before she lets herself be that foolish.

Y/N walks to her tiny kitchen, pulling out two glasses and filling them halfway with whiskey and ice.  The whiskey had been a gift from that year’s secret Santa gift exchange in the nursing program, and Y/N had yet to open it, as she doesn’t have much of a taste for sipping liquors.  However, tonight seems to call for something stronger than regular beer.

When Y/N returns to Harry, he’s stripped off his long jacket, but his patterned shirt doesn’t seem to be warm enough to stop him from shivering.  Y/N hands the drink to him, frowning as she touches his arm.

“Are you cold?” She asks in concern, despite his skin feeling as warm to her touch as it usually is. “I can get you a sweater…”

Harry shakes his head once, taking a long sip of the whiskey. “No, just—nervous, I suppose.”

Y/N nods softly, pulling her feet under her to sit cross-legged on the couch. She wants to watch Harry straight on as he speaks. “Finish what you were saying earlier.” She murmurs. “If…you can.”

“Can’t remember how far into my speech I got.” Harry laughs once, short and anxious, his hand tugging on his hair again. “I was rehearsing it on my walk over, but I blanked the moment you opened the door.”

“There was something about…” Y/N wraps her hands around her full glass. “Needing me?”

Harry’s cheeks pinken again. “Right.  Yeah.  That’s quite…new for me.  I’ve never needed someone before in a—in the way that I need you.  I have my mum and sister, and Jeff, but you…you’re different.” He busies himself with another sip of his drink. “It’s like…it’s so confusing, Y/N.  I know I shouldn’t.  I’ve had that talk with myself countless times, and with you, and I’ve told myself that you’re so much better off without me, but I just can’t make myself let you go.”

Y/N purses her lips, her eyes dropping to her lap as she answers in a careful and controlled voice. “I feel the same.  I haven’t stopped thinking about you in weeks.  I don’t think I’m capable of it, really.  You’re—you’re under my skin.  And it’s new, and strange, and uncomfortable, but only when I’m away from you.  When I’m with you, it feels as easy as breathing.”

Harry rubs his lips, and Y /N can tell that he’s still processing what she said, which she doesn’t blame him for.  When he continues with his story, instead of commenting on her response, she feels a sense of relief.  He’s not retreating back into the familiarity of being guarded.  Not yet. “So…so my dad left.  And Mum tried, but we weren’t in a super good place.  Gemma wanted to go to college, so she took out loans, and my mum remortgaged the house, and…all the bills piled up at once.  And I didn’t even know until we were about to lose the house.  I found her crying one day, my mum…” Harry’s eyes get a far away look in them. “She said she…felt like she failed us, which is ridiculous, because she’s—she’s just the best,” A smile flickers on Harry’s face for a brief moment. “You’d like her.” He takes another sip of whiskey before continuing. “Well, I had just graduated high school, and I didn’t really have any…plans.  College didn’t seem that important at the moment, so I went to work. I had to take care of her, you know?” Harry fiddles with a ring on his finger. “I was the man of the house.  I had to take care of her.  So I went to work, and I boxed a bit in my free time, nothing serious, but it still wasn’t quite enough.  And I had some friends who had come to America to work, and I knew that there were…easier ways to make money here.  And I could make a lot of money fast, and send it back home, and make sure that everything was okay.  So…that’s what I did.”

“I remember.  Patrick told me.” Y/N bites her lip, tapping her fingers against her glass. “He said that he sent you away at first.”

“He did.  It pissed me off.” Irritation flickers through Harry’s eyes. “I’d come so far, only to be turned down because I didn’t have as much muscle as the other fighters, when I knew I could fight three times as good.  But I couldn’t just go home, so I trained.  I fought at some other gyms while training, but none of them paid as much as Patrick’s.  Boxing there…I have enough money to send home to Mum while living here.  It’s high risk, but it’s high reward.”

Y/N finally takes a sip of her whiskey, trying her best to hide the grimace that crawls onto her features. “Do you really think you’re going to box for the rest of your life?”

“I do.” Harry answers immediately. “I’m no good at anything else. I’ll box until my body gives out, and after that I’ll train others, if I can.  Either way…this is my life.  This is as far as I go, really.  And you…”

“I still have more school ahead of me.” Y/N runs her finger over the rim of her glass as she replies. “But I’m not—I said it before.  You want to paint me as good, when we both ended up at that gym. I needed the money too.”

Harry shifts on the couch, repositioning himself to look at her better. “I was open with you.  I…shared. Will you share with me, now?”

Y/N hesitates, but knows she can’t say no. “Share what?”

It takes Harry a moment to settle on a question. “You had clothes from an ex.” He says finally. “What happened with them?”

Y/N sighs, leaning her head against the back of the couch. “His name was Parker.  We met in high school.  We started dating in our junior year, and continued dating until last year.  He goes to school back east, at Stanford. We…I was in love with him.  Very in love with him.” Y/N glances at Harry, watching how his jaw tenses as she says that. “And, um, it didn’t work out. Well, at first, actually, it did. Kind of.  He proposed to me about eighteen months ago, and I said yes.” Y/N looks down at her left ring finger, the only finger on her hands that has no ring tan line. “And then he started talking about me transferring to Stanford, leaving NYU, so I could be with him, and then that conversation changed to me dropping out altogether, so I could plan the wedding, get married, have kids, and just—just be what he wanted.” Her voice cracks in a mixture of hurt and anger, and she knows both emotions are apparent in her eyes when she meets Harry’s gaze. “He wanted a wife.  He didn’t want me.  So I sent back the ring about six months before I met you, and I haven’t heard from him since.  The clothes are just…they’re left over from when he came to visit me.  I know I should get rid of them, but it’s…hard, you know?  To let go of someone…”

“I know.” Harry twists one of his rings around his finger, the same one that he always fidgets with, a plain silver band. “This is my dad’s wedding ring. I found it in my mum’s room before I moved to New York.  I didn’t know she still had it, or why she still had it, and I don’t know why I took it, but I just looked at it and…felt like I needed it.”

Y/N sets down her drink before taking Harry’s hand in her own, rubbing her thumb over the band. “He’s your dad.  It’s alright.”

Harry stares at their intertwined hands, and his voice is thick when he replies. “I’ve never told anyone that.  About the ring, or my dad leaving.  I never really talk about it.”

“I’m glad you told me.” Y/N keeps her voice soft as she moves closer to him. “I meant it when I said I wanted to know you.  That means the bad as well as the good.”

“I know you say that now, but—but no one stays forever, Y/N.” Harry’s voice drops impossibly low. “Everyone leaves eventually.  You will, too, once you see what I’m like.”

“I don’t care.  I really don’t.” Y/N shakes her head fiercely. “I’ve seen what you’re like. I’ve seen you happy and angry and irritated and guarded, and I want it all.  Do you know how long I’ve waited to feel this way about someone?” She plays with his fingers as she speaks, adoring the familiar warmth that she feels in his skin. “It was never like this with Parker.”

“You said you didn’t want a protector.  And all I want to do is protect you.” Harry brings Y/N’s hand to his lips, kissing the inside of her wrist gently. “I don’t want to force something that you don’t want—”

“It’s different if we’re—if you and I—” Y/N flushes as she watches him kiss along her wrist and hand. “I’ll be your protector as much as you’ll be mine. We’ll protect each other.  We’ll be equal.”

“Y/N, you’re so much—we’ll never be—”

“We’ll be equal.” Y/N repeats firmly, unfolding her legs from beneath her. She sits up on her knees right next to Harry, cupping his cheeks with both hands. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted. Can you give that to me?”

A soft breath leaves Harry’s lips, and it washes over her in the sweetest way. “Yes.” He says sincerely.

“Good.” Y/N swallows hard as a fire starts to burn in her core. “Will you give that to me?”

“Yes.” Harry’s hands shift to her waist, pulling her impossibly closer to him until she’s straddling his lap.

Y/N rubs her thumbs along Harry’s stubbled jaw. “Do you need me?”

Harry’s green irises flicker to Y/N’s pink lips and back again.  She’s starting to get better at reading his eyes, she thinks, although she’s still not as good as she’d like to be.  She still can’t see exactly what’s swirling inside them, but in this moment, she thinks she has an idea of it.

“Yes.” Harry says again, his hands moving up her back. “I need you.”

Y/N presses a chaste kiss over Harry’s forehead scar, down his temple, his cheek, his jaw, delighting in every soft breath and sigh that escapes him. “Do you want me?”

Her voice is barely above a whisper when she asks, and Harry matches her tone perfectly as his fingers press into her back. “More than anything.” He breathes, tilting his head back as she kisses his neck. “I want you more than anything.”

Y/N kisses across his neck, down to his collarbones, before traveling up the other side of his face.  She kisses across Harry’s jaw again, his cheek, back to the scar-free side of his forehead, planting one last kiss in the center of it before pressing her own forehead to his. “Then kiss me.” She whispers, half panting the words.

Harry’s breath is just as ragged as hers as one of his hands tangles in her sleep-mussed hair, pulling them together until their lips meet.  The contrast between the softness of his lips and the roughness of his stubble delights her, and Y/N finds herself pressing closer and closer to him just to feel it more.  Her arms wrap around his shoulders as she tries to get as close to him as possible.  After spending so long waiting, she wants to feel him close to her.  She wants to be his, in every sense of the word.

A wrecked moan falls from Y/N’s mouth as Harry’s teeth graze her lips, his tongue immediately soothing the spot after he nips at her.  He repeats the action over and over, anything to hear her moan again, and Y/N has to pull away to collect herself.  She’s not sure if it’s the whiskey or Harry, but her head is spinning in the best way.

Undeterred, Harry’s lips move to her neck, kissing and nipping just as much as they did before. “Is this alright?” He mutters between kisses, his hands pushing up her hoodie to get a grip on her bare skin. “I-I’ll stop if it’s—”

“Don’t you dare.” Y/N moans, throwing her head back to allow him better access. “If you stop now, I’ll never forgive you.”

“Noted.” Harry mumbles the word against her jugular, letting his teeth scrape her skin before sucking over the spot.  A guttural moan slips from Y/N’s mouth as a shock runs through her, and she can feel the smirk on Harry’s lips as he licks over the mark he’s made.

The fabric of Harry’s shirt is soft to the touch when Y/N gathers it in her fists, tugging on it enough to get Harry’s attention. “Take it off.” She says in a low voice, her eyes locking with Harry’s as he pulls away from her neck. “Doctor’s orders.”

A groan rolls out from the back of Harry’s throat. “God, that’s so fucking hot.” He mutters, kissing her once more. “In a totally respectful and non-objectifying way.”

Y/N laughs into the kiss, tugging on the hem of his shirt again. “Mhmm. Just take it off, will you?”

Harry’s hands replace her own as he tugs his shirt over his head, letting it drop to the floor before attempting to kiss Y/N again.  Y/N, however, has other plans, and begins to run her hands down Harry’s chest.

“I’ve wanted to do this for weeks.” She murmurs, tracing her fingers over his tattoos. “So handsome…” She scratches her nail over Harry’s butterfly tattoo, adoring how his eyelids flutter at the feeling.

“That feels so…” Harry closes his eyes completely, letting his head rest on the back of the couch to fully lose himself in Y/N’s touches. “Keep going.”

Y/N leans in and kisses his neck again, spreading the pecks all along his collar bones and shoulders while her fingers continue to trace the contours of Harry’s body.  She works them over his chest, grazing over his nipples just enough to make his body jump beneath her.

“Is that…?” She begins, trailing off as she touches them again.  Harry doesn’t jump as much this time, but there’s an undeniable hitch in his breath.

“Feels good.” He says thickly, his fingers digging into her back in the best way possible. “Yeah.  Really good.”

Y/N nods, tweaking them one last time before she continues her exploration down his abdomen.  She runs one finger lightly around his belly button, and feels the shiver that runs through Harry as she continues down the light trail of hair situated between his two vine tattoos.

“I love these.” She whispers, her fingers taking their time as they touch them. “They’re some of my favourite tattoos of yours.”

Harry’s eyes open, and the tenderness in his green eyes is unmistakable. “You have favourites?”

Y/N flushes as she nods. “I-I do.  I like your cross tattoo.  And your mermaid.  And these…” Y/N raises one hand to touch over his collar bones again. “What does this year mean?”

“It’s my mum’s birth year.” Harry admits as one of his hands begins to play with Y/N’s hair. “I got it last year.”

Y/N knows that her eyes match the tenderness in Harry’s, and she kisses him once more before continuing to move her hand lower.  She traces her finger over the buckle of his belt as her teeth tug on Harry’s lip lightly.

“Can I?” She asks gently, her breath blowing across his lips. “Please?”

Harry strokes her cheek, letting the back of his knuckles drag across her skin. Y/N leans into his touch wholeheartedly, wanting Harry to know that she’s never once been afraid of his hands and what they can do.

“Is it the Doctor’s orders?” Harry asks, his teasing tone disguising the need in his voice.

Y/N lets out a light laugh, and it’s then that she knows that she and Harry are meant to be.  When two people can be so intimate together while still laughing and giggling and teasing each other…Y/N knows that’s something good, despite never having it before.  

“Yes.” She works her hand over his belt, and the only sounds in the room are their laboured breathing and the gentle clinking of the metal buckle.  When it’s finally free, Y/N busies herself with the button and zipper of his jeans.

“Wait.” Harry grasps her wrist carefully, stopping her before she can attempt to pull his jeans down. “I didn’t—I came here to take care of you.” He murmurs as he pushes her hands away.  His own hands move to Y/N’s thighs, grasping them tightly before picking her up with ease. Y/N gasps, her hands flying to his shoulders as Harry carries her to her bed, laying her down gently on the mussed sheets.

“Let me take care of you.” He repeats the sentiment as his hands move to the hem of her hoodie, slowly and carefully removing the article of clothing, along with the tank top underneath.  Y/N knows that his pace is intentional, giving her plenty of time to refuse, but stopping Harry is the last thing she wants to do.

When her top is off, the first thing Harry does is kiss her.  He moves her carefully as he does, so her head is supported by her pillows.  Y/N doesn’t notice his hands moving from her waist until—

“Why don’t we just move this guy until we’re done, hm?” There’s a trace of laughter in Harry’s voice as he holds up the teddy bear. “I don’t think I’ll be able to look him in the eye after if he watches.”

Y/N clears her throat as an embarrassed flush quickly works its way up her neck. “Alright, just—here—” She takes the teddy bear from Harry, dropping it to the side of the bed. “And he has a name, you know.  It’s Paddington.”

“Paddington?” Harry’s laughter is obvious now, and he buries his head in her neck as he attempts to stifle it. “That is so fucking adorable—”

“Can you not laugh at my teddy bear when you’re about to fuck me?” Y/N asks, voice exasperated and strained.

Harry’s laughter dies off as he pulls his face back up, his eyes darker than they were a minute ago. “I’m about to fuck you, am I?”

Y/N clears her throat, and as Harry’s gaze finally sweeps down her body, she gets the overwhelming urge to cross her arms and cover her exposed self. “You are.  At least, you were, until you got distracted.”

“I’m not distracted.” Harry traces a single finger down Y/N’s sternum, and Y/N can’t hold back the choked gasp in her throat.

“I’m completely focused.” Harry adds on, and before Y/N can gather herself enough to give a retort, his mouth is on her breast.

With her hands immediately tangling in Harry’s long curls, Y/N lets out another whine in sync with her tugging. “Harry—!”

Although Y/N doesn’t have her eyes on the boxer, she can feel the smirk that’s on his face, and just knows that he’s adoring the way that she’s reacting to him.  While there’s a small part of Y/N that’s irritated at his smugness, there’s a bigger part of her telling her to react more.  Moan more.  Pull his hair more.  Anything to make him happy.

Y/N wants to make him happy.

While his mouth works over one breast, his hand works over the other.  Harry’s ring covered fingers tweak her nipple, tugging and twisting just enough to work more whimpers out of her.  When his teeth graze one nipple at the same time that he tugs on the other, Y/N drags the nails of one hand down Harry’s warm back, and it quickly becomes her turn to delight in the whine that leaves his mouth.

It almost becomes a competition then, with both of them working to see who can make the other moan more.  Harry switches his mouth to Y/N’s other breast while Y/N alternates between tugging on his hair and pushing her hand down the waistband of his jeans, her fingers rubbing over his defined hip bones.  The competition, however, yields no winners, and is quickly forgotten in the pursuit of pulling the other closer, touching them harder, dragging them deeper into the safe space they’ve created on Y/N’s bed.

When Harry lets Y/N’s nipple fall out of his mouth, his lips are bright red, shining with saliva almost as much as his eyes are shining with lust.  Y/N quickly pulls him up to kiss her, and fingers one of his curls as she takes a shaking breath.

“I’ve never felt so good from just…” Her voice wavers for a moment, and a new wave of blush heats her cheeks.  “Just…you know.”

Harry brushes a thumb over her cheekbone, delighting in the heat he feels beneath his fingers. “Yeah?” His accent is thick. “Then you’re going to love what I’m going to do next.”

Y/N knows exactly what Harry means, but a surprised gasp still leaves her as he quickly pulls himself down her body, situating himself easily between her legs.  Within a moment, her pajama shorts are tossed to the side, and Harry is directing her movements.

“Bend your knees for me, love, just—yeah.  Just like that.  And spread them wider.” He coaxes her gently, helping to guide her body into the position he wants.  The pleasure on his face at the sight of Y/N’s uncovered cunt is evident as he inhales deeply, laying his stubbled cheek onto one of her thighs as he just stares at her.

Y/N’s chest heaves as she glances down at the sight.  Harry hasn’t even touched her core, and yet she’s never been more turned on in her entire life.  Something about the look in his eyes as he stares at her bare cunt drives her insane, and Y/N knows that she’ll never experience this with anyone else.  No one else will ever compare to Harry, and she doesn’t want them to.  She just wants him.

Harry’s breath is hot on her wet core when he lets out a sigh, his hands continuously rubbing her thighs, up to her pelvis, and back down again. “Don’t even want to touch you.” He murmurs. “Just want to keep staring…”

“That—that’s sweet, but—” Y/N swallows hard as she shifts on the bed. “I need you to touch me, Harry.  I need it.”

“Yeah?” Harry cocks an eyebrow at her, that smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth again. “Good.  I need it, too.”

And then his mouth is on her, and Y/N loses herself completely.

It’s not even that Harry is so wonderfully talented at cunnilingus that drives Y/N insane—although, honestly, that’s definitely a significant factor.  No, the thing that makes Y/N fall apart is how obvious it is that Harry loves doing it.

From the moment Harry’s tongue flicks over her clit, he’s making as many sounds as she is.  Moans and whimpers fall out of his mouth in abundance while his lips and tongue work Y/N over, and while most of it is incoherent sounds of pleasure, Y/N can decipher the occasional phrase.

“Taste so fucking good—”

“Fuck, Y/N—”

“So bloody sweet—”

“Tug on my hair harder—”

Y/N does as he requests, gripping his curls by the roots as she pulls harder in response to his tongue dipping into her entrance.  It briefly occurs to her that Harry may have a pain kink, which explains a lot about him and his career choice, she thinks, but then Harry’s fingers begin to aid his mouth, and Y/N can’t think at all.

While one of his hands pumps two fingers in and out of Y/N slowly, and while his mouth is still firmly suctioned over her clit, Harry’s other hand moves up to her pelvis, pressing down on top of it to keep her in place. “You’re a squirmer, aren’t you?” Harry mutters, and the flat of his tongue licks over her clit just to prove the point.

Y/N’s body jumps again as another guttural moan leaves her lips. “Harry, I—fuck—”

Harry hums against her. “I know.  You’re alright, love.  You can let go.”

And when Harry sucks on her clit again, crooking his fingers inside of her, she does as he says.

Incoherent whimpers and whines fall from Y/N’s mouth as she squirms on the bed, held only in place by Harry’s firm hand on her tummy.  Something in the pressure is comforting, and it’s the only thing that keeps her grounded to her bed as waves of pleasure roll over her.

Harry’s mouth moves from her clit to her thigh, pressing gentle kisses along the tender skin, which is red from his stubble scraping against it. Although his fingers have stilled inside her, he doesn’t pull them out just yet.

“I can feel you squeezing me.” Harry’s eyes flicker between Y/N’s soaked cunt to her heaving chest. “’S nice.”

Another flood of warmth passes through Y/N’s core when he says that, and she pants out what’s meant to be a laugh, but instead turns into a whimper. “Fuck, H…”

Harry’s eyes brighten from between her thighs as he presses another kiss to her thigh. “You’ve never called me that before.” He comments quietly. “I like it.”

“We’ve never done a lot of this before.” Y/N squirms again, “This is all new.”

“It’ll take some time to get used to it.” Harry presses on her tummy again, a reminder to keep still as he slowly pulls his fingers out of her.  Y/N bites her lip to hold back the whine that threatens to leave her mouth, and watches with heavy eyelids as Harry sucks his own fingers into his mouth.

Despite the trembling from her orgasm, Y/N manages to sit up on her elbows to look at Harry between her legs.  He seems quite content there, his black eye a stark contrast against the red of his cheeks and lips, one hand holding her as the other runs over his own lips.  Y/N snaps a picture in her mind to remember later on, when Harry has someone else’s blood dripping from his fingertips.  A reminder that this man lives within the fighter, underneath every wall and safeguard that he had to build to be able to protect and provide for his family.

Y/N reaches down and cups Harry’s cheek in her hand.  Although there’s a tenderness growing in the pit of her stomach, the need is still there alongside it. “Lay down for me.” She murmurs, gently grazing her fingers along the edge of his black eye.

Harry doesn’t speak as he moves, and the room falls quiet again, a brief break between the symphony of pleasure that they composed only a moment earlier. He takes his place on the pillows next to Y/N, and she kisses him again before moving down the bed.

Y/N sits on her knees by his side, allowing her fingers to run over his vine tattoos and down his pelvic bones.  She loves the way Harry’s breath flutters, how it hitches when she uses her nails, and delights in how a quiet moan leaves his lips when she wraps her hand around his warm cock.

He’s already so hard from eating her out, with precum dripping from his flushed tip.  Y/N pumps him a few times with her hand, adjusting to his size and weight before leaning her head down and licking over his slit.

“Christ—” The word falls out of Harry’s mouth involuntarily, and his cheeks redden more at the outburst.  Y/N rubs his tummy with her free hand, assuring him that it’s alright without actually saying the words.  

While one of Harry’s hands is running through his own curls, he brings the other down to play with Y/N’s hair, helping to guide her mouth as she takes him more and more.  Her tongue runs up and down his length, tracing the veins that throb beneath his skin, and Y/N loves how Harry tugs on her hair harder when she does it.

Y/N pulls up from his cock to give her jaw a break, continuing to pump him as she looks up with him.  His arm is thrown over his eyes now, and his chest is rising and falling in rapid succession.  Y/N can tell he’s close, so she slows down her movements until her hand is just lazily pumping him.

Sensing the change in momentum (and his orgasm slipping away), Harry removes his arm, looking down at Y/N with lustful eyes. “Why’d you stop?” He asks, his voice cracking in the middle of the question that he knows the answer to.

“Because I want you.” Y/N presses one last kiss to the top of his cock before letting go.  She crawls up the bed again and reaches over to her bedside table, opening the drawer and pulling out a condom.  Her fingers pause over the lube, remembering the last time that she had used it with Harry, and she can’t help the smile that flickers over her face as she holds up the bottle. “Remember this?”

Harry laughs breathlessly as he rubs his eyes. “Bloody hell, don’t remind me. I was a fucking mess that night.”

“A bit, but I didn’t mind.” Y/N sets the lube back in the drawer before shutting it. “That was the night that I knew I wanted you.”

“Was it?” Harry raises an eyebrow, the teasing grin back on his face as pushes his sweaty curls out of his face. “Took you that long, hm?”

Y/N rolls her eyes as she rips the condom packaging with her teeth, retrieving the latex disc from inside.  She pumps Harry once more before sliding the condom on, making sure that it’s positioned correctly. “Shut up.”

“Are you really telling me to shut up while you’ve got your hand on my cock?” Harry laugh again, and while Y/N’s heart flutters at the sound, she does her best to keep her face from showing it.

“I am.” Y/N throws her leg over him, straddling his lower stomach as she leans down to kiss him.  The teasing tone between them fades into one of lust and affection and need as Harry’s lips move against hers, and they’re both panting when Y/N pulls away to press her forehead against his.

“Are you comfortable like this?” She asks, worry seeping into her tone. “I know your ribs are still bothering you a bit, so I figured that this would be—”

Harry cuts her off with another kiss, this one wilder and more passionate than the last. “I’m fine, love.  You don’t need to worry about me.” He says, despite the flutter in his stomach at the idea of Y/N worrying about him.

“I always worry, H.” Y/N reaches underneath to grip his cock, rubbing the tip of it over her slit as she balances herself with one hand on his pelvis. Harry’s hands grip her hips to give her more stability. “You’re so—fuck—reckless that it drives me—” Y/N gasps loudly as she begins to sink down on Harry’s cock. “Insane.”

Harry’s first instinct at the feeling of Y/N’s warm walls hugging his cock is to throw his head back, close his eyes, and let the pleasure take over. However, he uses every ounce of willpower he has to do the opposite, and thanks God that he does, because he gets to see Y/N take his cock for the first time.

Y/N’s entire body is flushed, and she knows that the heat practically rolling off of her is because of Harry.  Everything that she’s feeling, from the fullness in her core that extends to her stomach, to the fluttering of her body, to the overwhelming sense of something just being right, is all because of Harry.  

After giving herself a moment to adjust to his size, Y/N begins to move. Harry helps guide her hips up and down slowly, and she decides from the first moment that she’s going to take her time building up her speed.  She wants this to last.

Y/N knows that Harry has the capacity to fuck her.  She knows that, if she asked, he’d flip her over and bend her over the edge of the bed and fuck her as fast as he possibly could until she screamed his name.  But, as much as the thought intrigues her, that’s not what she wants right now.  There will be time for fucking later, she thinks. There will be time for loud moans and teeth clicking together and bruises in the shape of a lover’s hand left on thighs and necks.  Right now, all she wants is to feel every inch of Harry inside of her, and to listen to his quiet yet desperate moans as she gradually increases her pace.  

With one of his hands still guiding her hips, Harry gently grips the back of Y/N’s neck, pulling her chest down to press against his.  Their lips find each other quickly, kissing and nipping as Y/N feels herself beginning to fall apart.

“H.” She breathes against his lips. “I’m so close…” A choked moan stumbles out of her mouth as Harry’s hand shifts from her neck to her clit, rubbing small circles with two nimble fingers.

“I can feel it.” Harry’s breath is hot on her ear as he presses open mouthed kisses to her neck. “Can feel you squeezing me, love…being so good for me…”

Y/N bites her lip hard, almost enough to draw blood as the movement of her hips begins to stutter. “I-I want you to—Harry—” she digs her nails into his shoulder when Harry’s fingers speed up, and within a moment, another orgasm is sending shockwaves through her body.

Harry can tell the moment it happens, and a grunt leaves his throat as he begins to lift his hips to meet her movements. “That’s a good girl, love—breathe through it, that’s it…” Harry buries his face into Y/N’s neck, inhaling the scent of her perfume and sweat that’s more intoxicating than anything else he’s ever smelled. “Fuck, Y/N—” His words cut off in a strangled moan as her walls squeeze his sensitive member.

Although she’s barely come down from her high, Y/N takes it upon herself to guide Harry through his orgasm like he’s done for her.  One of her hands moves from his marked shoulder to his hair, pushing the sweaty curls back from his eyes in a repeated motion as she murmurs in his ear. “Let go, H…feels so good…” She can feel the jerking of his hips as he finishes inside the condom, and for a split second, she wishes that there wasn’t a barrier of latex between the two of them, despite knowing that protection is mandatory.

Y/N waits until Harry’s managed to catch his breath before she carefully climbs down from him, missing the feeling of him inside her the moment she’s empty.  She lays down on her rumpled sheets next to his exhausted body, and hopes that she looks just as pretty in her post-sex haze as Harry.  

Now that she’s begun to touch him, she can’t stop.  Y/N’s hands continue to rub tenderly over his sweat-soaked chest, feeling the thumping beat of his heart beneath her as Harry carefully removes and ties off the used condom.  Although a small grumble leaves her when he gets up to throw it away, she can’t help but smile when he returns with two glasses of water in his hands.

“Here.” Harry hands her a glass before getting back on the bed, situating his naked form back into the position he was in a moment ago. “You need to hydrate. Doctor’s orders.”

Y/N lets out a breathless laugh before taking a sip of the cool liquid. “So you’re the doctor now, huh?”

“God, no.  I’m not nearly as smart as you.  I’m just smart enough to remember what you tell me.” Harry gulps down his own glass, setting it on the bedside table once it’s empty.  His arms then move to encircle Y/N’s body, pulling their chests together so her weight lies on top of him.

Y/N doesn’t miss the small wince that the movement causes, and she sets her own glass down before moving back to her position next to him. “You need to be more careful.” She murmurs, resuming her motion of rubbing over his chest.  She’s not sure why the motion is so soothing, but she doesn’t fight it, loving the feeling of Harry’s warm skin beneath her hand. “Patrick won’t forgive me if I put his best fighter out of commission.”

“No, he probably won’t.” Harry muses, settling for wrapping one arm around Y/N’s body. “He might fire you.”

“And then who will clean up your messes?” She cocks an eyebrow teasingly. “Or clean you up, when you’re a mess?”

“I’d just have to stumble my way to your apartment in the middle of the night again.” A laugh rumbles deep in Harry’s chest. “And then after you bandage me up, we can have a quick shag.  It’ll be a nice routine.”

Y/N rolls her eyes. “Mhmm.  Nice try.”

Harry’s laughter trails off after a moment as his fingers begin to trace shapes on Y/N’s back. “Seriously, though…” His eyes grow sober. “How do you want to…handle this?”

Y/N bites her lip. “How do you want to handle this?”

A sigh leaves Harry’s lips. “I want…you.  I want you to be mine.  And I don’t want to hide it, but if you feel like that’s best, then…”

“It’s just—I don’t know.  It’s complicated.” Y/N’s eyes focus on the G tattoo on Harry’s shoulder.  She wonders if it’s for Harry’s sister, and then wonders if Harry would ever tattoo her initial on his body. “Yeah.  Complicated.”

“You’re nervous about Patrick knowing.” Harry states simply.

Y/N nods. “He specifically told me not to get involved with any boxers. He said that…no good men come there.”

Harry’s hand moves over his jaw, scratching at his stubble. “Yeah.  He wasn’t wrong.”

His answer bothers Y/N, and she moves to sit up more in bed, making him look her in the eyes. “You’re a good man, Harry.  I know that.”

“I’m not.” Harry shakes his head once, his voice growing rougher. “I have a lot of shit that I’m…trying to work through.  I’m not that good.” When he sees how Y/N’s face shifts at his words, his tone changes. “But I’d never…that has nothing to do with you.  Any of my issues, my pride, my anger, anything like that, it’s all—it’s separate from you.” He cups her cheek gently. “I’d never hurt you.”

“I know that, Harry.” Y/N repeats as she places her hand over his, weaving their fingers together. “I trust you.  I just wish you’d trust yourself.”

“I trust myself more when I’m with you.” Harry admits. “I’ve never really felt…regret for what I’ve done.  The ring is an equal playing field, right?  But that night when you said you thought I was too harsh…”

Y/N bites her lip. “Did that bother you?”

“I was worried I scared you off.” His eyes close for a moment as he remembers. “I thought…I don’t know.  I thought you already disliked me just for being a boxer, and now I’m the boxer that breaks bones, and there’s no way you’d ever want to be around me.”

“I probably shouldn’t want it.” Y/N admits. “When you phrase it like that.  But I’ve told you before…you’re different when you’re with me.”

“Only with you.  Only for you.” Harry’s voice grows tender as he holds her close to him. “So if you want to keep it private, I understand.  I just want you to be mine.”

Y/N’s finger brushes over one of Harry’s rings.  It’s a beautifully sculpted silver rose, and there’s something so wonderful to her in how Harry chooses to wear flowers on the hands that have done so much damage.

She twists the ring around his finger before pulling it off.  It’s too big to fit on her ring or middle finger, so after a moment of consideration, she slips it onto her thumb. “Then I’m yours.”

Harry’s eyes darken at the sight of Y/N with his ring on her finger. “Yeah. You’re mine.”

The feeling of Harry’s ring on her finger makes Y/N feel so complete, and she wants to share it with him, so she ignores Harry’s whine of protest as she climbs out of bed to walk to her dresser.  A little ceramic dish with her jewelry in it sits on top, and she sorts through the rings and bracelets before setting on something that he can wear while in the ring.  She cups it in her palms before returning to bed, an excited but shy smile on her face.

“Here.” She places it in Harry’s hand. “You can put this on your chain with your cross.”

The silver caduceus looks small in Harry’s palm, and he brings it closer to his eyes to examine it. “What is it?”

“It’s a caduceus.  It’s the medical symbol, the one I wear on my jacket to the ring.” Y/N explains, her cheeks reddening at her words. “It’s from Greek mythology, but doctors adopted it, and—yeah.  Just something to show that…you’re mine, too.”

A small smile plays on the corner of Harry’s lips. “Will you put it on me?”

Y/N nods, and although her fingers are shaking a bit, she manages to undo the clasp on Harry’s chain, and slips the pendant on before refastening it around his neck.  She settles the caduceus and cross pendants on his chest, just between his two swallow tattoos.

“It looks pretty on you.” She murmurs, her hand brushing down his abdomen. “Really nice.”

“It’ll be my good luck charm in the ring.” Harry brings her hand to his mouth, kissing over the rose ring. “I won’t take it off, as long as you don’t take my ring off.  Deal?”

“Deal.” Y/N lays her head back down on Harry’s chest. “Now get some sleep. Doctor’s orders.”

A playful groan falls out of Harry’s mouth. “Is that going to be a new thing?  Are you going to get me to do everything by saying it’s doctor’s orders?”

“I wouldn’t have to if you took better care of yourself.” Y/N matches his playful tone. “But we both know that you have a tendency to ignore your instincts—”

“My instincts are good!”

“Like your instinct to fight with a sprained hand was good?”

The corner of Harry’s mouth twitches. “Fine.  Let’s go to sleep.”

Sunlight is beginning to spill through the curtains as Harry closes his eyes, bathing his entire face in a golden glow.  His pale skin glows under the light, save for the purplish bruise that rings one of his eyes.  Y/N presses a gentle kiss to the darkened area before settling herself down in Harry’s arms.

[thisbeatchachinglikemoney]

Danger

Part 12 of the Boys with Luv series

Pairing: Reader x BTS, BTS x BTS

Summary: Yoonkook make up and the search for Y/N is underway (this one will just be from the members point of view)

Warnings: Self harm, suicidal thoughts, Jungkook is in quite a dark place

Tags: @calling-dips-on-j-hope, @fic-recs-by-moon, @luvtaeha, @aretha170, @xicanacorpse, @kookieebangtan, @fangirl125reader, @seoul9711, @channiespup , @lindsayjoy444, @fairygirl18​, @black-rose-29, @bts-ot7-for-life, @meowmeowyoongles, @aclowe13​​

AN: Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist and what you think of the series so far :) I purple you guys! 

Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13

It had been a few days since Y/N had been taken and Jungkook had not come out of his room. Not even to eat. It was worrying Jin that his youngest boyfriend had shut himself off from everyone. Jin was actually reaching his limit. His baby needed to come out soon or else he would break down the door.

Namjoon was right - they all needed to stick together. It would make the whole ordeal a lot easier to go through with as they had each other to lean on. Y/N had no one which was something Jin was worried about. Yoongi had told them all about the conversation he had had with Y/N after Jackson had found her at Disneyland, and Jin was worried. They all were. The police had been informed of the possible intentions and Y/N’s case was a top priority. They had people working on it day and night.

Jin sighed as he knocked on Jungkook’s door. “Kookie, please, let me in.” He begged. “Hyung needs to talk to you. To know you are okay. Please baby. Please.” There was still no answer. If Jin pressed his ear to the door and listened hard enough, he was able to hear soft sobs. He was scared for Jungkook. The boy had been close to self-harming a few years ago, and he didn’t want that to happen again.

He remembered when they found out. It was the second year of their relationship and Jungkook, who was usually the cuddly fluffball of the group, was withdrawn and quiet, often speeding up to his room and locking the door whenever they came back from dance practices and recordings. Yoongi had been telling them that something felt off, but whenever they confronted the maknae about it, he would dismiss it as not feeling well, or would even go as far as to ignore them completely. 

It had gotten to the point where Yoongi insisted that they get inside Jungkook’s room and adjoining bathroom. The night they did that, using Namjoon to break down the door after Jungkook would not open, they discovered Jungkook stood with a razor blade hovered above his wrist. Yoongi had wasted no time and had knocked the razor out of his hand, bundling the younger up in his arms and whisking him away to talk. Yoongi was always the best at this, being experienced himself in the matter of depression. Yoongi still had his bad days, but he would spend them curled up next to either Hoseok or Jin while he voiced his feelings to the whole group.

And Jin was now feeling that exact same feeling. He needed to get to Jungkook. He needed to know he was okay. “Jungkook, if you don’t open the door, I’m going to have to break it down myself.” There was still no answer.

Jin was terrified. What if the maknae had cut too deep and had been bleeding out in the bathroom for the past few hours? What if he had tried to kill himself and been injured badly? What if he had killed himself?

“Joon!” Jin called out for the younger member as he ran to the man’s studio, banging on the door. Namjoon opened the door, looking both hopeful and scared.

“Have they found her? Is she alive?” Jin felt his heart break at the look on Namjoon’s face.

“Oh, Joonie, no, I’m sorry. They haven’t found her yet.” He said, pulling the younger into a hug. “But it’s Kook. I’m worried about him. I’m getting the same feeling I did before. I’m scared Joon. I can’t lose two of them.”

“What do you need me to do?”

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

Taehyung was curled up in Hoseok’s side, tear tracks running down his sleep-swollen cheeks. Every single night, he had cried himself to sleep for the loss of Y/N, as well as Yoongi and Jungkook, and it broke Hoseok’s heart at how hurt they all were. He wanted to kill Jackson for putting them all through this. The police were in the process of locating him - they were getting in touch with the tracking company to request the location of the phone, but it was taking longer than wanted as the company was not open on the weekend. This had made Bang PD-nim start to look into other tracking companies that were open 24/7 just in case this happened again, which Hoseok prayed it didn’t.

He glanced over at the clock and saw it was almost time for dinner. Taehyung had completely lost his appetite, so Hoseok had been forcing him to eat to keep himself healthy. They had all been forcing themselves to eat, apart from Jungkook who had locked his bedroom door and was not coming out at all. 

He rubbed a hand over Tae’s back gently, a faint smile ghosting over his lips when he felt his hand tighten on his shirt, the longer fingers twisting the fabric.

“Tae baby, you need to wake up. We need to go and eat.” Hoseok said softly, making Taehyung whine and nestle into him.

“No Hobi hyung, I’m not hungry.” He said, his deep voice scratchy and slurred.

“I know, baby, but we have to. We need to keep healthy. It’s what Y/N would want.” Hoseok reminded him. Taehyung shook his head.

“I’m not hungry! I don’t want to eat! I just want Y/N back!” Taehyung cried. Hoseok sighed sympathetically and pulled the younger on top of him, wrapping his arms around his back.

“I know, baby, I know. So do I. But if we aren’t healthy, we could be in hospital when they find her, okay? She wouldn’t want us to hurt ourselves.” Hoseok said softly. “So let’s go down and have some ramen and then we can come back here and cuddle okay?”

“Can we see if Jungkookie wants to come eat with us?” Taehyung looked at his hyung. Hoseok nodded and stroked his cheek gently.

“Of course we can.” He kissed Tae’s forehead. “Come on, let’s go.”

----------

Jimin pushed open Yoongi’s bedroom door with his foot, his hands carrying two bowls of rice and kimchi. Yoongi hadn’t been doing too well; the pain of losing Y/N as well as the guilt of hurting Jungkook had not settled with him at all and continuously made him feel worse as the days dragged on. Jimin hoped that it would be over soon.

“Hyung, I’ve got us some food.” Jimin said softly, setting the bowls down on the bedside table before climbing onto the bed. Yoongi hummed and pulled the younger onto his lap. “How are you feeling?” He asked, pressing a kiss to Yoongi’s cheek.

“Not good.” Yoongi replied. “I feel awful, actually. I just wish Jungkookie would let me talk to him. That’s one thing I can fix.” Jimin nodded and grabbed the bowls.

“It’s okay, hyung. It will all be okay.” The smaller boy comforted him before lifting some rice to his hyung’s mouth. “Now eat something, please.”

“I’m really not hungry, Jiminie.” Yoongi said, glancing at the chopsticks in front of him.

“I know, but Hobi hyung said we need to eat to stay healthy because that’s what Y/N would want.” Jimin said, holding the chopsticks in front of his mouth. “Just a few mouthfuls, please, I don’t want you to get ill.”

“Fine.” Yoongi opened his mouth and allowed Jimin to feed him. “You know, I should be the one taking care of you because I’m older.”

“But you’re my boyfriend and I love you.” Jimin reminded him. “So I’m allowed to take care of you.”

“How are you feeling?” Yoongi asked, taking the bowl out of Jimin’s hands and putting his hands on his waist. Jimin stilled. He hadn’t admitted how he was feeling just yet. Not even to himself. He had pushed his feelings down so he could take care of Yoongi.

“I...” Jimin trailed off, making Yoongi narrow his eyes at him. “I don’t know...”

“Okay, Jiminie. That’s okay. You’re probably feeling so many things that you can’t distinguish between each one.” Yoongi said. He reached over and took some rice out of the bowl with the chopsticks. “Your turn.” Jimin opened his mouth and ate the rice.

“Hyung? Why don’t you go and see if Jungkookie will talk to you? Jin hyung said he hadn’t left his room in ages. I’m scared for him.” Jimin said after swallowing his mouthful of rice. 

“I can try, baby. After we finish eating I’ll try and talk to him, okay?” Yoongi stroked Jimin’s hair out of his face. “You eat too, little one.”

“I’m only one centimetre shorter than you, Min Yoongi!” Jimin playfully hit Yoongi’s arm.

“Yeah but you’re still my little one since you’re younger than me and everything about you is tiny and cute.” Yoongi said taking Jimin’s smaller hands in his.

“My dick isn’t small, hyung!” Jimin whined. Yoongi hummed and kissed Jimin’s forehead.

“Yes, but it is smaller than everyone else.” Yoongi pointed out. “But I love each and every part of you.” He leaned up and pecked Jimin on the lips. “Thank you for cheering me up.”

“I love you.” Jimin grabbed his bowl and began to eat. “I miss Y/N, though. I’m worried for her.”

“I miss her too.” Yoongi replied, a frown on his face. “I want to kill him for taking her. I need her back with me.”

“She needs to be back with all of us. I don’t even want to think about what’s happening to her. She must be in so much pain.” Jimin set down his bowl. 

“But the police are finding their location as soon as they can and as soon as that has been found, we will have Y/N back with us.” Yoongi said. Jimin knew that he was seeing the positive side of things, and trying not to think of the worst-case scenario. 

“Okay, I’m going to go and talk to Jungkook.” Yoongi finished his rice and set the bowl aside. “Why don’t you go and have a shower? I’ll be back soon.”

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

Everything felt grey to Jungkook. Just grey. One of the seven lights of his life were gone and the others had dimmed to nothing, leaving everything murky shades of grey. He was wearing one of his tshirts that Y/N would always wear for bed. It smelt like her and that helped the aching hole inside of me, but it did nothing for the endless amounts of guilt he felt.

This was all his fault. If only he had gone home with her, then she would still be with them. He was stupid and not worthy of being her soulmate. 

His door had been locked since she had been taken and every so often one of his hyungs would knock and beg him to open. But he couldn’t let them in. He didn’t want to be met with their disappointed faces. He probably wouldn’t be able to ever face them again. 

He stretched his arms, ignoring the pain that lanced from his wrists and the growling of his empty stomach. He looked down at his forearms and saw his bandages had become bloody. Time to change them. The cuts would only fuel his hyungs disappointment in him if they found out. 

He shuffled into the bathroom, avoiding his image in the mirror, knowing that he looked awful with an unshaved face and unwashed hair. He unwrapped the bandages and rinsed his arms under the water to wash off the blood. 

Cut more You deserve it You deserve this pain It’s all your fault

Ever since Y/N had been taken the voices had come back and Jungkook had succumbed to what they were telling him to do. He looked at his arms, the red lines criss-crossing the lengths of his forearms, slashing through some of his tattoos.

That’s it Jungkook Let yourself feel what Y/N is feeling Your hyungs are so disappointed in you You should just end it all now

Jungkook’s fingers wrapped around the bloodied razor he had been using. He slashed it over his wrists again.

Go deeper Jungkook Deep enough to kill But not yet You still have to suffer

Jungkook pressed harder, his skin splitting apart and blood running out, streaming down his arms. He sobbed to himself, the neverending pressure of the guilt weighing down on him, making him feel like he couldn’t breathe. He slammed his hands onto the sink, leaving bloodied handprints and smears on the white porcelain before staggering over to his room and collapsing on the bed, letting him exhaustion wash over him. He hadn’t cut deep enough to kill himself. He had to suffer more first.

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

Yoongi could feel something was wrong. Very wrong. Wrong enough to make his stomach churn and his heart pound faster. He sat up quickly, accidentally waking up Jimin who hummed and looked around sleepily.

“Go back to sleep, Min.” Yoongi said softly. “I’ll be back soon. I’m just going to check on Jungkook.” He kissed Jimin softly and gently pushed him down so he was lying down. Jimin hummed and closed his eyes, a hand clutching at the blankets surrounding him. He smiled at the younger boy before slipping out the room and making his way over to Jungkook’s room.

When he got there, he saw Jin and Namjoon attempting to break down the door. Yoongi looked at the pair of them with an eyebrow raised.

“He’s been in there too long, Yoongs. This ends now. He needs to know that we all love him and want him around and that we don’t blame him. He needs to know that you don’t blame him.” Jin said, stepping back as Namjoon rammed his shoulder into the door, a loud bang echoing through the house. Namjoon hissed but ignored the apparent pain as he continued to bang into the door. There was a loud crack and the door swung open.

“Oh God!” Jin screamed, hands covering his mouth. Yoongi’s heart stopped. No. Not Jungkook too. He couldn’t lose both of them.

He pushed Jin out of the way and was met with the sight of blood. So much blood. Jungkook was lying on his bed, eyes closed. Yoongi watched closely hoping and praying to see the rise and fall of his chest. He saw Jungkook breathe and it was steady.

“Joon, take Jin hyung somewhere else. I’ve got this.” Yoongi said, rubbing Namjoon’s shoulder. The younger looked hesitant but led Jin away. Yoongi took a deep breath and entered the room. There was a lot of blood, covering the bedsheets and Kookie’s arms. There were smears on the wall in the shapes of fingers and hands, where he had clearly dragged himself to bed. Yoongi felt his heart break. Not his Kookie. His happy bunny.

“I’m so sorry, baby. I am so so sorry.” He said, stroking the youngest’s hair before going into the bathroom to get some warm water and disinfectant and bandages. They needed to be careful with Jungkook now. He gently reached out and took hold of Jungkook’s hand, straightening out his arm so he could clean away all the blood and germs. He dipped one of the towels into the water and squeezed it before wiping it over the maknae’s arms.

“Oh, Kookie.” He sighed, seeing the numerous cuts that were still healing - some being scabbed over, but others still open. He sprayed some disinfectant over his arms and wrapped bandages around them. “I’m so sorry, baby. Hyung is so sorry.” Yoongi felt awful. If only he hadn’t yelled at Jungkook then this would not have happened.

He quickly cleaned up the room before collapsing on the bed next to the younger boy. “I love you so much, Jeon Jungkook.” He whispered before closing his eyes and pulling the younger closer to him. He kissed his forehead before allowing himself to fall asleep next to the maknae.

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

When Jungkook woke up he could feel arms around his waist which was strange considering he had locked his door. He frowned as he opened his eyes, looking around his room to figure out what was going on. His arms had been bandaged and cleaned which he didn’t remember doing, and his door was open. He paused. They must have knocked down the door.

He looked over his shoulder and saw the sleeping face and faded blond hair of his hyung, Yoongi. He gulped. He didn’t want to have this conversation. Not now, and if he got his way, not ever. He should just run away from them and never return. Then he would never have to face them for what he has done. 

He pushed himself out of Yoongi’s arms and walked over to his wardrobe, throwing his clothes into some bags.

“What do you think you’re doing, mister?” He heard a sleepy yet stern voice ask from behind him. 

“Noth-nothing?” Jungkook winced as his voice rose in pitch at the end, making it sound like he wasn’t sure about what he was saying.

“Really? ‘Cause it looks like you’re packing a bag of clothes.” Yoongi sat up in the bed, the sheets rustling. “Now put it down and come here.” Jungkook paused and reluctantly set down the bag before shuffling over to the bed and perching on the end.

“Look, hyung, I know it’s all my fault, can you please just leave me alone.” Jungkook said, but Yoongi ignored him and pulled him closer by his waist, being wary of his injured arms.

“Just listen to me, Koo, please.” Koo. He hadn’t been called that since Y/N had been taken. He felt a pang in his heart as he sniffled. He sighed and wiped his eyes as he looked at his hyung. Yoongi’s eyes softened as he reached out and wiped a stray tear from Jungkook’s cheek. 

“I am so sorry I said that to you. I should never have said that. I was just angry and upset and I know that this is not a good excuse, but I just took it out on you. It’s not your fault. You were looking out for her and called someone to bring her home. How would you know that Sejin would have been intercepted and his phone stolen?”

Jungkook pursed his lips. He could hear what Yoongi was saying to him, but it wasn’t sinking in. He didn’t feel any less guilty. “But I should have gone home with her! I should have walked her to the car and made sure that it was actually Sejin. We all know how many people are out there to hurt us and I let my guard down, thinking that for one day there wouldn’t be hate or someone that wanted to hurt her, and look what happened!”

“Jungkook, stop, please!” Yoongi pulled the younger onto his lap, so Jungkook was facing him, legs either side of his hyung’s lap. “Stop beating yourself up about this. This is not your fault. It will never be your fault. None of us blame you. So, please, stop blaming yourself.”

“But-” Jungkook was quietened by Yoongi pressing a finger to his lips.

“So just stop blaming yourself. No buts, okay? We all love you, so much, and we were so worried when you didn’t come out of your room for days.” Yoongi gently lifted up Jungkook’s arm. “And now we know that this is one of the reasons for your hiding...” He trailed off, looking pointedly at the bandages on Jungkook’s arms.

“I’m sorry, hyung, I just, I needed to.” Jungkook sobbed.

“Hey, don’t cry, baby, please don’t cry.” Yoongi’s voice cracked as he pulled Jungkook into his chest. “We’ve got you. We’re always going to be here for you, okay? We can talk to you, be there for you, give you all of the cuddles in the world. Just please, don’t hurt yourself again. It’s dangerous and it could kill you, Koo.”

“That’s what I wanted.” Jungkook whispered.

“Shit, Kook.” Yoongi froze and stiffened. “No, no, no, baby, no.” He held onto Jungkook’s jaw, his thumb stroking gently. “Just talk to us, don’t lock yourself away. We’re going to help you through this, okay? It’s all going to be okay.”

“But I’m not okay, hyung. And I don’t think I ever will be until she’s back with us.” Jungkook had tears running down his cheeks. Yoongi did too. 

“Neither am I, baby. But if we stick together, we should be alright.” Yoongi said. “I love you, so much, Jeon Jungkook. I hope you know that.”

“I love you more, Min Yoongi.” Jungkook leaned his forehead against Yoongi’s.

“Oh, I don’t think that’s possible, baby boy.” Yoongi kissed his lips. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“Thank you.” Jungkook said, resting his head on Yoongi’s shoulder.

“You’re welcome, little prince.” Yoongi kissed his forehead. They cuddled for a while before Jimin. burst into the room.

“Hyung, they found her!”

[blu-joons]

You Have A Caesarean Birth ~ BTS Reaction

Jin:

As soon as he heard the sound of your bed being wheeled back through the corridor, Jin was up on his feet. “She’s all good,” the midwife smiled across at him.

A huge sigh of relief came from him as his eyes met yours, reaching his hand out for you to take. “You did so well,” he grinned, walking alongside your bed.

“Well, it wasn’t quite how we planned for this to go, but it was needed.”

His head nodded instantly in agreement. “I know it’s not what we had in mind, but at least we have our little girl at the end of it.”

“That’s what matters,” you hummed, “is she alright?”

“She’s asleep,” Jin informed you, “they took her down to the baby ward to do a few checks whilst they waited for you to come back,” he then added.

“Have you held her yet?” You then asked, flinching slightly as his head nodded once again. “At least she’s got to be around one of us for now.”

“You’ll hold her soon,” he quickly comforted, “as soon as the two of you are healthy and well.”

“I can’t wait to get to see her again.”

Yoongi:

Your heart sunk as the midwives informed you that you had no other choice but to have a caesarean. “I’m sorry,” she smiled, but your head shook back at her.

Although you were terrified, you’d always prepared yourself for worst case scenario. “It’s hardly your fault, we can just blame the baby instead.”

“You seem a lot calmer than your husband seems to be right now.”

As you glanced across at Yoongi, you could see the panic in his eyes. “Caesareans are scary,” he protested, “they’re going to cut you up.”

“I don’t need reminding,” you smiled, “I prefer not to focus on that.”

“Sorry,” he hummed, trying to give off a bit more of a calmer impression. “How do you really feel about having a caesarean though?”

“I always knew there was a chance,” you spoke back across to him, “I’ve done plenty of research, so I know exactly what to expect from it all.”

“It’s terrifying,” he chuckled lightly, “I love you, but I’m glad you’re the one going through this.”

“There’s nothing for you to be scared of Yoongi.”

Hoseok:

You could hear murmurs from the midwives for quite some time before finally one of them looked across at you. “Things aren’t quite going as we hoped.”

It was the phrase that you didn’t want to hear as you experienced labour. “What does that mean?” Hobi asked as you remained silent, slightly stunned.

“We either keep trying slowly, or a caesarean might be the best option.”

Your eyes widened at the sound of the word you didn’t want to hear. “Are you alright?” Hobi asked as you stared forwards emotionlessly.

“If it needs to be done,” you sighed, “let’s do it.”

“You’ll be alright,” he smiled, tightening the grip that he had on your hand. “I know you’re scared about it all, but the baby needs you to do this.”

“I know,” you sighed, “it was just the one thing that I didn’t want to happen, I wanted to be able to give birth naturally, without surgery.”

“I wanted that too,” he hummed, “but I guess the baby just decided to have a different idea to us.”

“Already causing trouble and he’s not even here yet.”

Namjoon:

You smiled softly as Namjoon’s worried eyes glanced between you and the curtain that rested just above your waist. “I’m alright,” you whispered to him.

His head nodded, but he was still far from convinced. “It’s all a little overwhelming, don’t you think? I wonder what’s happening behind the curtain?”

“I can’t feel anything to even try and guess what’s happening right now.”

He chuckled gently, “I’d love to have a peek round and look, but I think seeing it would worry me even more than I am.”

“I’m in safe hands,” you grinned, “there’s no need to worry.”

“I can’t help it,” he confessed, “I didn’t think we’d end up having to go through so much for our baby to arrive and be with us, I thought it would be easy.”

“That was the dream,” you sniggered, rolling your eyes, “I should have guessed that the world would be against us for this.”

“It won’t be long before he, or she, is here now though,” Namjoon smiled, “it’s exciting, right?”

“Of course, I can’t wait for them to be here with us.”

Jimin:

As another yawn came from Jimin, you couldn’t help but feel guilty as another night passed. “You don’t have to stay here,” you whispered across to him.

As soon as you spoke, his head shook. “I’m not going to leave you here, are you crazy? It’s only for a couple more nights now too, it’s no big deal.”

“Jimin, that chair is horrendous to sleep on, don’t even try and deny it.”

His shoulders shrugged, glancing down at the chair, “it’s not the best, but I’d rather sleep here and know that I’m with the two of you.”

“If you hurt your back,” you chuckled, “it’s not on me.”

“I’ll be alright,” he laughed in response, “and a sore back is no comparison to what you’ve been through anyway, you need to rest more than me.”

“I’m resting on a nice, comfortable bed,” you continued to tease, “I might actually miss this when I get discharged, I think.”

“Trust me,” Jimin sniggered, “your bed at home will be a lot more comfortable than this one.”

“I bet it’s a lot better than that stupid chair.”

Taehyung:

His eyes widened as soon as you picked up the pile of laundry, snatching it from you immediately. “What are you doing?” You frowned as you noticed him come towards you.

His head shook, nudging you in the direction of the living room. “The doctor said you had to be careful, not start lifting all of these heavy things.”

“It’s a few clothes Taehyung, I’m pretty sure I can lift that no problem.”

His head shook as he followed you across to the sofa, “I told you that if there was anything that you needed help with, to just tell me.”

“I don’t need help with everything,” you frowned.

“I just don’t want you to hurt yourself,” he admitted, “you’ve been through a lot, and you need protecting right now whilst you recover.”

“I appreciate that you’re so helpful,” you replied, glancing across at him. “But lifting a few clothes isn’t going to send me back to hospital.”

“I’m sorry,” he sighed, “I just don’t know what else to do to repay you for what you’ve done to me.”

“Just trust me a little more, I promise I feel alright.”

Jungkook:

The chaos around you was quickly causing your heart to beat quicker as you were prepped for surgery. “I’m scared,” you whispered out to anyone, only for Jungkook to hear.

His eyes glared down at you as he placed the scrubs down on the chair beside you. “There’s no need to be scared, you’re in very safe hands here.”

“But I never imagined that this would be how my birthing plan would go.”

His hand reached out to intertwine with yours. “Neither of us saw today going this way, but it’s the safest way for the baby Y/N.”

“I know,” you whispered, “but what if something goes wrong?”

“It won’t,” he tried to assure you, squeezing your hand gently. “Just remember, at the end of all of this, we’ll have our baby with us, isn’t that good?”

“Of course,” you mused, trying to remain as optimistic as you could. “I just want to get it over and done now so that she can be here.”

“They said they’ll take you down as soon as they can,” he reminded you, “and I’ll be right there.”

“I wouldn’t be able to do this if you weren’t.”

---

Masterlist

[uwuwriting]

What did I miss? w/ Hawks and Dabi

Request: Okay so hear me out: Hawks’ and Dabi’s s/o (as separate headcanons, or you can just choose one) is also a pro hero/villain and the lads think she died or something and they just become enraged and they’re so distressed (and the ending is soft because she’s okay and maybe they cry) I love your writing, I hope you have a nice day! -🐍

Lol I had a similar request some time ago for our younger boys which I never got around to doing because I’m bad at fulfilling requests and following orders lol. This will be both hilarious and angsty. Well hilarious if you have my sense of humour otherwise I’ll have to add cricket sounds. Okay maybe its not that funny but oh well, it didn’t make me cry at least. Love ya. 💖💖💖

masterlist

rules

warnings: angst and fluff, mentions of injury and death, swearing. 

Hawks/ Keigo Takami 

-Having two winged heroes on patrol always kinda led to disaster. 

-You both would race each other to your randevouz points or you would mock each other about your wing span. 

- “You know what they say about your wing span? The bigger the wings well....the bigger the assets.” 

-You had bigger wings then him just for a few centimeters but you rubbed it in his face all the time. 

- “Why am I in love with you again?” 

-It really bothers him bc you keep saying he has a smaller dick than you....and you don’t have a dick so.....yeah....anyways. 

-You were on patrol once again, goofing around on a rooftop.

 -It was late at night and you could be a little more handsy since there were’t many possibilities someone could walk in on you. 

-Keeping your relationship a secret is hard and baby can keep his hands to himself for so long until he breaks. 

-Suddenly out of nowhere you started hearing screams and cries for help. 

-Keigo didn’t even get a chance to say anything before you were flying towards the building that was on FIRE. 

-Dashing right after you he entered the building nad he was half expecting to see you there in the entrance, but he saw no one, only a large chunk of flaming wood etched into the mahogony floor. 

-His mind immediately went to the worst scenario possible; it was like he couldn’t control his own thoughts.

-But right then, when his panic was beginning to surface, he heard you calling out for him. 

-The rescue of the residents took around half an hour and it got harder and harder as time went on. 

-The fire was getting out of control and was getting harder to locate everyone.

 -One apartment was left in the end and you could here crying coming from inside. 

-The fire was basically licking at your boots at this point but you weren’t about to let someone burn. 

- “Get those last two outside and I’ll meet you at the rooftop across the street.” 

- “Y/N-”

- “Keigo GO! I promise I’ll meet you outside.” 

-And that was the last thing he heard from you that night. 

-He did as he was told, he got the last two people out of the building and soon after them a toddler was carried out of the building. 

-He waited for you to come out next but you never came. 

-The flames licked at the sky, their tips seeming to be touching the moon. 

-The roof collapsed in on itself making the rescue teams to back away as they looked in horror as the whole flat came crumbling down. 

- “SHE’S IN THERE!” 

-HE doesn’t remember much from that night. 

-He knows he went back inside or at least tried to get past the debris. 

-He remembers seeing the color of your wings, that beautiful white, peeking out from under a fallen beam. 

-He remembers the upper floor almost crashing him as he tried to get you out and then nothing. 

-He woke up in a hospital bed, dressed in one of those white robes his whole body screaming at him not to move. 

-If he was being honest he forgot for a moment the events of the previous night and he was expecting to find you sleeping on the chair next to his bed, your hand in his just like you had done so many times before. 

-But you weren’t there and then everything came pouring in. 

-Frantically he got up and he reached for the door, yanking it open and coming face to face with a doctor. 

- “Where is she?” 

- “Sir you should be in bed, you injuries-” 

- “goddammit WHERE IS SHE?”

-His outburst had attracted some of the nurses but he couldn’t care less about his image right now. 

-Where you gone? But he remembers getting you out from under those fallen stairs. Maybe you were already dead when he reached you. 

-No no no you had promised ot find him outside, you had told him so. That’s why he left, that’s why he did as you said. What was he supposed to do now? Without you here what is he supposed to do?

-Everything was muffled out, the ringing in his ears being to loud to allow him to focus on anything else. 

-His breaths came out shallow as his head swam with thoughts. 

-You couldn’t be gone you just couldn’t he had so much he wanted to do with you, so many things planned you couldn’t-

- “Keigo?”

-He turned around slowly. 

-At first he thought he was dreaming, your voice always seemed to soothe him when he was destressed. 

-But then his eyes landed on you all bandaged up and sporting crutches. 

-You were hurt but you were alive, you were here, you were alright.

- “What did I miss birdbrain?”

-He launched himself at you bringing you flush to his chest as he silently cried. 

-He let a few I love yous slip past his lips before you both entered the privacy of his hospital room. 

-Neither of you spoke for a long time. 

-You just held each other as tightly as your stitches would allow before letting all the tears fall. 

- “I’m here, we’re alright.”

Dabi

-You had been sent out on a mission on your own. 

-Dabi had tried to convince Shiggy to let him go with you but he refused. 

- “I’m not sending you on this one with her. She is the best suited for this job and I’m not letting you mess it up just for your fuck buddy.”

-Shiggy really knows how to push Dabis’ buttons and if you ask me Dabi makes it easy at times. 

-They were a pain in the ass. 

-I mean you are going out on a mission let a girl get prepared in peace.

-Before they could set each other on fire and then dissolve into dust you dragged Dabi away telling Shiggy that you would be going soon. 

- “Really Dabi at times I doubt if you trust me at all.” 

- “It’s not that I don’t trust you dumbass. I just dontwantyoutogethurt.”

-Legit you didn’t hear anything he said but you had an inkling.

- “Oh what was that?”

- “I’m not saying it again.”

- “Here I am going out on a dangerous mission and you won’t even grant me one wish...how cruel.”

-He ended up saying it again but really really begrudgingly. 

- “I’ll be back before you know it, okay?” 

-You kissed his nose then his lips and let out a small I love you before heading down to the bar and getting the last info from Kurogiri. 

-Now Dabi likes to see himself as a very heartless and stone cold individual. 

-But you always were the exception to his behaviors so he couldn’t help but admit that he was worried. 

-The mission was supposed to take three days plus one for you to return. 

-It was still day two and he was ready to pull his hair out. 

-But he promised you that he wouldn’t go out to search for you unless you have been gone for a week or more. 

-So he just waited in agony.

-The moment though that you weren’t back in a week as you said you would be he went into a silent panic. 

-He wanted to be nonchalant about it at first, just casually bringing up your whereabouts in convos with the league or asking Kurogiri of any mission reports from your end. 

-Always came up with nothing. 

-They had lost track of you two days ago and your last contact was yesterday. 

-Now he was sure going to come after you. 

-And no one could stop him. 

-He knew you were strong and that you could handle yourself better than anyone in the league but he couldn’t stop himself from going after you. 

-He had learned from Shiggy that the group you had targeted had a soft spot for torture if they caught someone in their territory.

-His mind of course went first to the worst case scenario, his pessimistc nature getting the better of him as flashes of you hurt on the floor of some basement ran throough his head.  

-It didn’t take him long to reach your randevouz spot, mainly bc he was driving around Tokyo like a maniac. 

-He entered the small house that was marked as you target and the first thing he was met with was blood. 

-It was on the walls and on the floor and he couldn’t tell if this was yours or it was someone elses. 

-Then he heard suffling from a closet nearby. 

-It was a low scratching noise coming from the closet in the far back. 

-He slowly approached it, his left arm letting small blue flames lick his fingertips as he opened the door. 

-And then his heart dropped. 

-Tumbling out of the closets’ interior was you, bloddied and bruised your arms barely keeping you propped up as you landed on the floor. 

-He didn’t miss a beat. 

-He scooped you up, moving stray hairs from your eyes as you barely kept them open.

-Your lip was split and you had a huge bruise right under your left eye. 

- “Hey there baby.”

- “What the fuck happened Y/N?”

-You cringed as he moved his arms under your back, the pain being too much even for you. 

- “They were waiting for me. I sent a message to Shiggy saying that I was coming back but he insisted I finish this. I managed to kill the leader but some of his rookies got to me.”

-He didn’t take you to the hideout. 

-Oh no.

-If he had done that then there would be no Shiggy to lead them and there would’ve been a large fire in that area. 

-He rented a room in a nearby motel. 

-He let you rest while he went out and got you some disinfectants and bandages. 

-Really when he was cleaning you up, if his tear ducts worked properly he would’ve cried. 

-You woke up at some point while he was finishing up and you could feel his trembling and his silent sobs. 

-You wrapped him in a hug, squeezing him as much as you could as you let your tears wet his t-shirt. 

-His hands went up and down your sides and back, pulling you into his lap as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. 

- “I’m alright, see? That’s my heart beat.” 

-You placed one of his palms over your heart in hopes that the subtle thud would calm him down. 

-He really loves you and he won’t let anything happen to you ever again. 

-Even if it kills him. 

TAG TEAM AY: 

@iwaqchan​ @the-arcana-fan-fic​ @angelwritings​ @axerrri​ @reinyrei​ @dnarez​ @bemorefiction​

[esamastation]

Oooh, what a New Years' Treat, thank you ! It's love to see your take on Cody travels back in time, for Obi Wan first, and Fix the timeline second

Obi-Wan is in the process of dusting his outer robes off and wrestling with the wistful thought of taking a shower, when there's a buzz at his cabin door, short and perfunctory. 

Blinking and looking up, Obi-Wan stares at the door for a moment – no one buzzes a door on a spaceship the size of the Negotiator, not without comming first to check to see if he was actually in his cabin, and no one had. Strange. Maybe a clone with an issue, one who'd seen him retire for the night cycle?

"Come in," he calls and then, recalling that there's several inches of metal in between and sound likely wouldn't even carry, he walks to the door controls and opens it.

It is a clone behind his door – his new commander, even. "Cody?" Obi-Wan says, a little surprised. They'd just bid their goodnights on the bridge not half an hour ago. "Is something the matter?"

For a long moment the clone commander stares at him, his lips parting slightly, his eyes widening. Something is wrong, Obi-Wan sees it – and then, concentrating, feel it. Cody looks surprised to see him, and he feels… shaken, even shocked.

"Sir," the clone says, strangled, and then just stands there.

Obi-Wan considers the potential scenarios that might lead the Commander to calling upon him at the turn of the night cycle, and like this too – without calling ahead, just coming to his door. It couldn't be an official issue, it couldn't be dangerous to the ship or any kind of transmission they might've gotten, Cody would've commed Obi-Wan, surely. It has to be something else, something urgent enough that it couldn't wait, and… private enough that he didn't want to use comms.

Drat. They've been in space for what, five days? Do they have issues already? Already?

"Dear me," Obi-Wan murmurs and then moves aside. "Come in, Commander. I'm afraid I have little to offer in the way of hospitality, but I can certainly brew a strong cup of tea, if that's necessary. Come in."

That makes the Commander startle, his shoulders coming up and then going down again. There's visible hesitation before he steps in. He's trembling and Obi-Wan feels a dawning dread as he closes his door and then firmly locks it, turning on all privacy settings.

He's only been working with the commander for a short period of time but he can tell a man with a certain mettle when he sees one, and Cody's is made of durasteel at least. Whatever could've happened in such a short period of time to make the man shake?

Cody stands in Obi-Wan's cabin, radiating unease and uncertainty, and Obi-Wan lets his instincts from years of teaching Anakin take over – he directs the man into a chair. "Take a load off, breathe in and out, and let go of your anxiety. Whatever it is, we will deal with it."

Cody sits, staring at him with an alarming mixture of wistful hope and utter dread, like he's the man's only hope. Obi-Wan turns away to get the tea, pretending to himself he's giving the man and his emotions some privacy, when in fact it might be he himself who needs a moment. It has been a while since anyone's given him such an worrisome mixture of emotions, and – stars.

Obi-Wan knew something of what war was like, he knew some of the horrors inflicted upon those who fought in it. Abuse was a plague of many military forces and he'd braced himself for the possibility of it infecting his, too. It was bound to, with the difficult origins of the clones – already there is prejudice. But not, not this soon.

He makes the tea, and Cody accepts it with hands that have finally stopped shaking.

Then the man says, quiet, almost inaudible, "The last words Qui-Gon Jinn said to you were about Skywalker. Promise me you will train the boy. He is the chosen one. He will bring balance. Train him."

Only thje fact that it feels like every muscle of his body suddenly gets frozen keeps Obi-Wan from dropping his own cup of hot tea right in his lap. "W-what?" he says. "How do you – "

"You told me – will tell me a couple years from now," Cody says. "We were trapped under some rubble and you couldn't shift it with the Force without risking further collapse. It looked like a slow death, we thought we were either going to suffocate or die in a collapse once there was no other chance and you would have to use the Force. We said our goodbyes, just in case, and you told me about Qui-Gon Jinn, how much the words plagued you. How much you wished he'd said goodbye, a single word to you, anything that acknowledged what you had."

The hot tea spills over Obi-Wan's fingers, and he hurriedly sets the cup down, not taking his eyes away from the obviously shaken clone.

"I'm sorry," Cody says, looking down at his own cup, fingers curled all around it. "I thought it would be the best way to – to prove it to you. It's not something you'd admit, unless under duress and to someone you trust. You said so yourself, so…"

He trails away and the silence that follows feels like the strangest sort of catharsis Obi-Wan has ever felt. It's like a weight has gone off the clone's shoulders – and Obi-Wan fears it landed on his shoulders instead.

"I – told you. Couple years from now?" Obi-Wan says, clearing his throat. "I'm sorry, how – did you – did you see this on your mind, or –?"

Cody looks up at that, meeting his eyes. "No, it wasn't a vision, I'm not Force sensitive. I lived through it. And a lot of other things – about a decade's worth of things," he says. "It was a Force artefact Sidious created, a last resort kind of thing, just in case. I –" he stops and then draws a breath, bracing himself. "Sir, I'm from the future."

He doesn't feel like he's lying, is the strangest thing. "Cody, we just met on the bridge, it wasn't even a full hour ago –" Obi-Wan says, wondering what on earth could've happened in thirty minutes!

Cody blinks at him, slow, and there's something strange about the way he's looking at him, like he's… drinking him up, trying to memorise every detail. "Probably, yeah. Happened to me ten years ago, though, I don't remember. I just – it just came to, I came here, it was…" he glances at his bracer, just long enough to check the chrono, and then goes back to staring at Obi-Wan. "Fifteen minutes ago. When I realised where I was, and that you'd probably be here… I came straight to you."

Obi-Wan swallows. "Well, I am – utterly gratified by your trust in me, but…" he trails away, eying the man with confusion and trepidation and – he's not sure what else. There's so much emotion coming off the man that Obi-Wan can barely manage his own disquiet apart from it. "Why?" he asks. "And who is Sidious?"

"The Sith Lord – Dooku's and Maul's Master. Vader's too," Cody says, plainly, like he isn't suddenly spouting the sort of intelligence Jedi Shadows haven't literally been dying to figure out. "The mastermind behind the war – and us clones. He wins, sir. That's why I'm here. To, to stop it."

"Oh," Obi-Wan says, his voice quiet. "I, uh… I think I will need you to tell me – everything. From the beginning. Can you do that for me, Cody?"

"For you, sir, anything," Cody says vehemently, sending a shudder running down Obi-Wan's back he's not sure is fear or thrill. He can feel his own back straightening at the feel of it, and draws a quick, soothing breath, which does nothing to quell the rapid beating of his heart.

Stars only knows what he'd done to earn the man's faith and loyalty, but by Force, he's going to try to live up to it.

[its-me-im-coraline]

Regrets // Victoria De Angelis

words // 1557

warnings // angst, mentions of abusive relationships (not details)

pairing // Victoria De Angelis x GN!Reader, Ethan Torchio x Platonic!Reader

author's note // taglist here. please only let me know if you want to be tagged on that google form so i know what to tag you on, thank you

I KNOW I MADE HER LOOK LIKE AN ASSHOLE BUT MY ANGSTY ASS NEEDED SOMETHING LIKE THIS TO BE ABLE TO WRITE THIS FIC SOOO... I LOVE VICTORIA, I DON'T THINK SHE'S AN ASSHOLE AND THE WHOLE I BULLY YOU MEANS I HAVE A CRUSH ON YOU TROPE IS STUPID IN EVERY OTHER OCCASION BUT IN FANFICTION ITS FINE

also i changed the original tittle because i didnt like it that much

request // yes

summary // Reader is Ethan's best friend and because of that they are around the band a lot. Maybe a hint of jealously, a toxic partner and a visit at the hospital will be enough to change their relationship with Victoria from hate to love. Or maybe the love was there all along.

The first time the two met each other was right after the band finally united. Y/N’s had been Ethan’s best friend for years now, making the fateful meeting inevitable - as well as the obscure amount of time they would have to spend around each other. If anything, the drummer was attached to the hip with his best friend, tagging them along to every show, many rehearsals (there was even a suggestion to come with him on Måneskin’s European tour - it would be a nightmare if they did).

Victoria did not take long to adopt a defensive mode against them, one that not even she could decipher. Maybe it was the way they were just always there, like leech attached to her bandmate, or maybe it was that annoying way they dressed, all out there and attracting her attention, or maybe it was that stupid girlfriend of theirs that just had to make it known they were a couple. She really did get on Victoria’s nerves a awful lot. She was nice, not going to lie, just maybe a little too nice - ickly nice, she’d say. She wasn’t sure why but that girl simply made Victoria’s gut drop every time.

For years, as that relationship lasted, Victoria and Y/N would butt heads, always at each other’s throat with something to say and complain about. What are they doing here again, the bassist would ask over and over again. Just here to piss you off, Y/N would say, walking to Ethan. Other times it’d be the opposite. It just always was… a mess.

Everyone could see the situation the two found themselves into but no one could do anything. No, not until they opened their own damn eyes.

The dislike between the two only grew stronger and stronger as time passed by, with their insults getting worse. Truth be told, no one expected it to get that bad, and now they just hoped to stop.

For a while, Y/N was facing some drama in the relationship, some that could end up pretty bad. Not few were the nights Ethan would get a phone call in the middle of rehearsal, sobbing heard even beyond his phone. Please, please come get me Ethan. I don’t think …. The rest was inaudible for Victoria, not that I care, she would remind herself, moving on with her work.

On occasion she’d joke about it to Y/N. What? Trouble in paradise, cucciolo? Oh well. Deep down she knew she should not say that but she could not control herself. Y/N was pretty put together some of those times, others they’d just snap with no regard to anything. Just shut your fucking mouth, they said once adding a few profanities to explain their anger.

After the fourth time it happened the blonde had gotten genuinely angry. “Ok, enough. Close your phone, Ethan,” she spat out, almost snatching it off his hand. “They can wait.”

“But-”

“No! They have cut short three out of our four rehearsals this week! This is the fifth rehearsal, Ethan, their fourth time! They’re a big kid now, they should not need you all the time.”

In time she would regret those words but in that moment they seemed appropriate. She had grown exasperated at their constant interruptions. Well, most of the time they were not really disturbing - they’d call on a break or just cuddle with Ethan on a break, at a time they had for the solemn reason of relaxing - but Victoria would not admit that. Not to herself and not to anyone.

“Ok.” Ethan whispered the words, silencing his phone with a heavy heart. He had a bad feeling, that he knew for sure, but he did not feel like fighting with the blond bassist.

The hours they worked passed by quickly, feeling more like quick moving water, their session was simply flowing. It was now quiet, maybe around three in the morning. 2.58 AM read the clock on the table. Ethan was sure his best friend was sleeping by now. He’d shoot them a text and then go to sleep as well - lord knows he needed it. Well, not everything always goes as planned.

Victoria was by him when it happened.

His phone started to ring while he was about to walk to his room. Y/N. If he was not concerned earlier that night there was no way he was not now. It was not common for them to call at hours like this, if anything they were usually asleep by eleven, maybe even twelve.

“Pronto. Che? A- cazzo, sì, sì. Sto venendo ora.” showing off my italian lol

“Ethan? What happened?” She was not sure of her feelings in that instant. Why was she even asking him? She did not care about them, right? But no, no, it was not worry. It was fear of guilt. And worry, but that she was not aware of.

“Y/N is at the hospital,” he breathed out, “they- uhm… Their ex hurt them - thank god their neighbor was there and heard what happened. Oh my- if-if-if he was not there Y/N-”

Victoria could not stand seeing her friend like that. She believes that she’s never once seen Ethan this emotional - not negatively emotional, that is. He always keeps his composure so well but this time it just was not possible. The blonde just stood there now, holding Ethan in her arms, whispering comforting things to him, hoping that he’d calm down a bit.

“I-I should’ve answered the phone Vic… It- I could have prevented this. Oh god, it’s my-”

“Ethan no! If it’s anyone’s fault here, it’s mine. I should not have snapped like I did.”

“I- yeah. Yeah, you know what, yeah, it is your fault.” He was sad, he was anxious, he was angry… A whirlwind of emotions really, and Victoria’s statement made him target it to her. “It is your fault Vic, with that-that stupid, stupid, conflict you two have. I’m leaving.”

“Where are yo-”

“To the hospital! Where the fuck else?” Ethan’s voice was rising by the second, as his blood started boiling in his veins. He knew he could not drive there, but he was not about to say it.

“I’ll drive you-”

“No. I can do it on my own.”

“Please. It’s the least I can do.” Victoria’s eyes were cast to the floor, unsure of what else to do. She knew that things were taken too far this time, the least she could do was drive her friend to the hospital.

The drive there was quiet. Neither knew what to say. Victoria was feeling guilty, afraid, and even worried about Y/N’s well-being, regardless of whether she could she tried to focus on the road. More injured people would not be helpful. Ethan on the other hand was fuming. He was angry out of his head; at his blonde friend, at himself and most of all that bitch, Y/N’s ex. She was the one to cause all of this, all of it, even problems he was not aware she was the cause of.

As they arrived there there was even more trouble on their way. He’s not family, he’s not a spouse, neither is Victoria. It was always like that. They would not let them pass if they were not either of those things but, god bless that man, the nurse that called him showed up, recognizing the voice and assuring the nurse, on the front, that he was indeed the only person on their emergency contacts, they had to pass. With a lot of complaining they were finally let to pass.

When they walked in the room Y/N was laying on the bed asleep and at first both their minds went to the worst case scenario. “I have given them some painkillers for now. They’ll be ok but some injuries cause severe pain -” he was walking outside along with Ethan.

Victoria was now left alone in the room with Y/N, although it felt as if she was looking at a photo of them rather than the real life Y/N. “I’m sorry,” was all she could say, the only thing that felt right to do at that moment. “It’s my fault -oh my it is! Ethan, he-he wanted to respond to the call by I-I got so angry!” She cried out, now grasping Y/N’s hand. “I can only hope he can forgive me. Hell, I hope you forgive me. It’s my fault you’re-”

“It’s not, Victoria.”

“You are awake?”

“It’s not your fault. I was already here when I called the first time. Neither of you could have changed a thing.” They were so calm - maybe it was the painkillers, she thought. “Thank you. For the apology I mean.”

“Yeah. I, uh, I’m sorry for everything Y/N. I-”

“Hey, stop! It’s ok. What’s by is by,” they laughed, never missing the opportunity to joke. (you know, bi - by… terrible pun)

“I, uh,” she paused, thinking of what to say next. She remembered a small chocolate bar in her pocket. She was about to eat it when the call happened. “I don’t know if you’re supposed to eat chocolate but I know you like it.”

“Oh my, it’s my favorite,” they gushed, prompting Vic to come closer.

“Come, sit, sit! We can share it.”

“Yeah, I guess we can.”

tag list: @bieberhoodforever @tabi-toast @ginny-lily @moriro-da-regina @the-killer-queenie @makapaka11 @teenyweenynightghost @superchrystaldrug

[omgjasminesimone]

Life Goes On

Dakota x MC

Word Count: ~2,300

Now with Follow-Up, The Moments in Between

She doesn’t want to say anything, but eventually she has to. After all, they’re Prom Royalty tonight. There’s no way their absence from the Edenbrook Prom hasn’t been noticed by now.

“Should we head back down there?” Sage asks quietly, breaking the comfortable silence between the pair.

Dakota’s index finger momentarily pauses in its absent-minded tracing of stars, hearts, and what Sage surmises must be ghosts, based on the wavy lines at the bottom, on her bare back. He restarts the invisible drawings on her hip before he finally replies. “Honestly, I just want to stay up here with my incredible girlfriend. Let’s never leave this bed.”

Sage smiles, lifting her head from where it was tucked under his chin. “That offer would be much more appealing if this was a Queen instead of a hospital bed.”  

Dakota laughs, and Sage smiles at her unending ability to make him do that, further entwining her legs with his. She’s no longer worried about what the other prom attendees are thinking about their absence as the teens fall into another comfortable silence.

“That was amazing, Teach.” Dakota eventually says, his lips pressed gently against her forehead. “Thanks for taking that one off my bucket list.”

Sage looks up at him, placing a quick peck to his lips. “I was more than happy to help you get the full Senior Prom Night experience.” She admits when she pulls away.

Dakota smiles at her, but it doesn’t quite meet his eyes. Her brow furrows. “What?”

“….This is probably the worst time to bring this up…..” Dakota begins before trailing off as he looks at her uncertainly.

“What, Dakota? You know you can tell me anything, right?”

His eyes dart to their scattered clothes on the sterile hospital floor before he’s able to meet her sincere gaze. “Can we….talk about death for a second?” Dakota asks.

His penetrating brown eyes bore into her own, and she can only nod.

“Lately, I’ve been thinking about death, a lot.” He begins.

“Why? Are you not feeling well? Do you need to go back to the ICU? Dakota! Why did you go to prom and risk your immune system if you weren’t feeling well?!” Sage asks frantically. She reaches down to the ground for her discarded dress. “I’m gonna find the oncologist…” She mutters distractedly.

“Hey, hey!” He firmly grips her shoulder, his grip firmer than it has been for months now. That calms her a little, and she lets him roll her back over to face him. “Slow down a minute, Sage. I feel…fine. It’s just, …who knows how I’ll feel tomorrow? Or the next day. And we haven’t really talked much about this, so…I don’t know…no time like the present?”

The frantic beating of her heart calms further at his assurances that he doesn’t feel unwell. “Okay, let’s talk about it.” She says, even though that’s the last thing she wants to talk about as she lies naked in his arms.  

“Okay. First off, I just want you to know I’m okay with dying. I had 19 good years, that’s more than a lot of people get. I have family and friends who love me.” He pauses here, leaning forward to place a lingering kiss to her lips. “I have you. That’s a pretty fulfilling life right there.”

“Dakota…” Sage whispers, voice already breaking.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m going to be okay. No matter what happens. But….I worry about what happens to everyone else after I’m gone.” Dakota admits.

“That’s so like you. Concerned about everyone else. You’re such a good person, Dakota.” The kind of person who should live to old age, the kind of person who makes the world a better place. Life can be so unfair, but Sage keeps that thought to herself.

“I can’t help but worry. A lot of marriages don’t survive the loss of a child, you know. My parents’ whole lives revolve around me. They upended everything to move to Boston to get me the best medical care. They left their friends, and family. I just…..don’t want them to stop living if I do. Does that make sense?”

Sage nods, intertwining her fingers with his under the thin hospital blanket.

“If I’m gone, will you check on them for me? Not, like, all the time or anything. But just….stop by to visit if you’re in town? I think it would help them, to see you achieve all the life landmarks I don’t get to. Graduating college, getting your first real job,…getting married….” Dakota trails off as tears well in her eyes. “Teach…..���

Sage shakes her head. “I’m okay.” Dakota looks unconvinced, so she forces a smile. “I promise I’m okay. And of course I’d visit, and call when I’m out of town.”

“Thank you.” He says with so much gratitude Sage almost bursts into tears immediately. “Alright, so the other people I worry about are Lennox and Mateo. We’ve been the three musketeers for so long, it wouldn’t be the same with just two. So, I’m gonna need you to keep the gang together.”

“Of course I’d still talk to your best friends Dakota. You don’t even have to ask that.” Sage admonishes.

“They’re your friends too now. Don’t forget that. And as their friend…..please don’t let them wallow in survivor’s guilt, okay? I don’t want them to feel guilty for getting to live in case I don’t. I’m honestly so happy that they’re better, that they’re healthy. Don’t let them forget that, alright?”

“Alright.” Sage parrots miserably. She didn’t know this conversation would be so hard. And if just talking about it is this hard, she can’t imagine actually living it. There’s no way she’s strong enough to do that.

“Okay, so that just leaves one more person I’m a little worried about.” Dakota continues. He brushes away a tear that’s sliding down her face toward his pillow. “You, Teach.”

“If you’re so worried, then don’t leave me.” Sage tries to joke, but now she’s full-on sobbing so it falls flat.

Dakota smiles softly anyway though, pressing another lingering kiss to her lips. She tries not to think about how many kisses, how much time, they have left. “I’m going to try my absolute hardest not to, beautiful…..but if I do….I want you to move on. I want you to get married, and have babies, and live your life to the absolute fullest. And I don’t want you to feel guilty about it for even a second, do you hear me?”

“How can you ask me to do that? Of course I would feel guilty. When I think about walking down the aisle, it’s you I’m picturing standing beside the priest. And when I think about starting a family, I picture a little girl with your eyes, or a baby boy with your smile. I can promise you I’ll settle for someone else if that’s what you want to hear, but I’m always going to love you. Present tense. Forever. And some guy would just have to settle for being second best. That wouldn’t be fair to him.”

Dakota smiles sadly. “You’re young. Right now, everything feels like it’s the end of the world. But ten years from now? You’ll barely remember me, Teach. Life goes on. You’ll love again. I know it. And I want you to.”

“You’re not forgettable Dakota. You’re extraordinary. You changed me, and even if you’re not here, even if life goes on, you’ll go on with me. I’ll think about you every day.” Sage swears.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Sage.” Dakota says, tone full of forced levity.

“I’m not.” Sage insists.

“That is something I worry about, you know. Something most people who are dying worry about. Being forgotten. Just…ceasing to exist, disappearing off the face of the Earth.” Dakota admits.

“That’s not going to happen to you. Me, your parents, Lennox, Mateo? We wouldn’t let you just…fade away. We love you. I love you. Present tense. Remember?”

Dakota smiles, and as usual, her heart flutters. “I love you too Sage. So much.”

“…can we talk about something happy now? I think I cried off all my makeup.” Sage rubs under her eyes, and that’s definitely smeared mascara coating her fingers.

“One more thing. I want to ask you for a favor.” Dakota adds.

“Name it.”

“Will you name your first born after me? A namesake, so I’m not forgotten?” Dakota asks. Sage can’t tell whether or not he’s joking.

“You don’t think my hypothetical baby daddy would have a problem with me naming our child after my late boyfriend? The love of my life who I still wouldn’t be over?” Sage counters.

Dakota shoots her an almost offended look. “Sage, you’re telling me a grown man, who is your husband, not baby daddy, in this scenario, is going to be threatened by your long dead high school boyfriend? You can do better.”

Sage laughs, and Dakota can’t help but join in.

Eventually their laughter dies down, and they just stare at each other lovingly in the dim light of the hospital room. “Alright, when you put it like that, I guess I can promise to name my firstborn after you.” Sage eventually promises.

Dakota lifts his pinky, and Sage rolls her eyes, but she pinky promises him anyway.

“Thank you. Now, we can get dressed and get back to prom before your mom comes looking for you.” Dakota concludes.

….

…

..

.

10 years later

Sage wakes to the shrill cry of her newborn through the baby monitor. She rubs at her eyes sleepily as she searches for her slippers in the dark bedroom. Her husband starts to stir. “I’ve got him.” Sage offers, and her husband dozes off again with a soft mutter of thanks.

Sage makes her way down the hall and reaches into her son’s crib. “What’s wrong Dakota? Hungry? Need a new diaper? Just want attention and hate when mommy gets a good night of sleep?” Sage asks, yawning as she comes to the end of her question.  

She shrugs one arm out of her nightgown and raises her son to her breast. He happily latches on, sipping greedily. “Ah, hungry.” Sage quips, gently running her free hand over the newborn’s mostly bald head.

Once he’s fed, Sage gently deposits Dakota back in his crib. She’s just started to swaddle him in his blanket when she’s startled by a pair of warm arms wrapping around her from behind. As her surprise abates, she leans back into her husband’s embrace. “I told you I had him.”

“I know. But I got lonely without you.” He admits, pressing a kiss to her neck.

Sage tssks. “So needy. You’re so used to having all my attention, but now you have to share with little Dakota here.”

Her husband reaches one arm into the crib, and the infant happily grips his father’s index finger. “If I have to share you, I’m glad it’s with DJ here.”

Sage’s brow furrows. “DJ?”

“Dakota Junior, or DJ. It’s going to get confusing having two Dakotas around here, so he needs a nickname.”

“What’s wrong with Little Dakota?” Sage asks.

“Babe, I doubt he’s gonna like being called ‘Little’ once he’s past ten.” Dakota insists.

“Maybe you should have thought of that before you made me promise to name my first born after you.” Sage teases.

“Hey, we both know I wasn’t expecting to be around.” Dakota retorts playfully.

Sage turns away to face Dakota, smiling as she drapes her arms around his neck. “Well, you can’t predict a medical miracle. Cancer didn’t stand a chance against you.”

“Don’t jinx me.” Dakota complains, but he’s obviously not that upset because he plants a kiss to her forehead.  

“Babe, you’re more likely to get struck by lightning then get cancer again after ten years of remission.” Sage insists.

“Still, better safe than sorry.” Dakota insists.

Sage rolls her eyes, but she obediently turns around and softly taps her fist against the wooden railing of their son’s crib, ‘knocking on wood’. Dakota can be so superstitious, but his many endearing qualities outweigh her annoyance with his superstitious ways.

The new parents both stare into the crib, watching the baby coo and gurgle. “He’s really something isn’t he?” Dakota breathes out softly.

“A miracle.” Sage adds.

“I could watch him all night.” Dakota insists.

“But you shouldn’t, because you have a big day tomorrow.” Sage reminds him.

“You mean we have a big day tomorrow.” Dakota corrects.

“It’s your movie. I’m just going to help with the casting.”  

“It’s our movie. I’d never be able to tell our love story without my muse.”

Sage smiles, rising up on her tip toes to press a gentle kiss to her husband’s lips. “A romance for the ages.” She whispers against his lips when she pulls away, just barely.

Dakota nods, tangling his fingers through her’s. “You’re everything to me. When I was sick, when things got hard, you gave me something to fight for.” Dakota insists softly.

Sage smiles, she never gets tired of hearing that. “I love you.”

“Not as much as I love you.” Dakota insists. He tugs her towards the door. “Come on, let’s go back to bed.”

Sage hesitates, looking into the crib. “I know they say we shouldn’t start bed sharing until Little Dakota is older……but how can anyone expect me to be away from him all night?”

Dakota smiles fondly. “Well, they let us take him home from the hospital, so we’re in charge now.” He makes his way over to the crib, resuming the swaddling.

“That’s too loose Dakota. Here, let me show you.” Sage demonstrates her perfect swaddling technique for her husband.

Dakota scoops up his little namesake when she’s done. “Got it. Thanks, Teach.”

….

…

.

A/N: With Every Heartbeat made me sad, so I choose to live in this Alternate Universe where Dakota Winchester makes a full recovery and he and Sage get the happy ending they deserve.

[letsdiscoverkitty]

A Long Overdue Update

PART ONE OF ?? I started penning this weeks ago but completely forgot that it was sitting in my drafts...It's basically a summary of the past few years/since COVID hit and I went offline for a while.

To say that it has been a turbulent few years would be an understatement. I was trying to think about what to say or where to even start this post as I did do a bit of a disappearing act from the Tumblr world when my world caved in a bit around me....I want to try to keep this bit of the post as brief as possible (which is often impossible for me to do as you all well know) but in essence, before the pandemic hit and I had recently left an admission in the Autumn of 2019, we had a number of deaths in the family/close to family, I was labelled as a SEED patient by the ED team and then was left alone for a month in Feb 2020 whilst my parents flew to NZ (I was going to be joining them on this but I couldn't for medical reasons). The night they returned home our world turned upside down when my dad fell down the stairs in the early hours of the next morning and suffered catastrophic brain injuries, resulting in him spending a total of 3-4 months between the ICU, trauma ward and a neuro-rehab ward, with things being touch-and-go at times. He had a number of spinal fractures, facial fractures and 3 bleeds on his brain (extra dural, sub dural and sub-arachnoid if there are any neuro guys out there). This all happened as the world around us started to shut down due to the spread of COVID-19 and I distinctly remember the last time my mum and I were able to visit my dad on the trauma ward (one at a time) before they stopped all visitors; he was completely delirious and although having got through the worst (we were told he may not live numerous times) he had no idea who I (or my mum) were and was "on another planet" and detained for his own safety....thankfully he is doing better than anyone ever expected now but he will never be the same person he was and there are multiple ramifications that might not be obvious on the outside (he looks very well, actually, ironically, he is fitter and healthier than he was before the injury), mentally it's a different story (although he refuses to accept or acknowledge this/has no insight whatsoever) and it's been incredibly traumatic for both my mum and I (Andi too but not so much as they weren't around as much when it happened).

As Covid locked down the country, I was admitted back into hospital for what was initially 4 weeks (I was desperate to go home to support my mum) but which turned out to be an 8 month admission. I was discharged in December 2020 despite my consultant urging me to stay longer; there were numerous reasons for this - one being that I was finding the ward environment and the unit far more unhelpful than beneficial and think I had reached my max for that admission. Upon leaving I was told that I would never get better and had some frankly horrible things said to me by the nutritionist at the time (including that the best case scenario was that I would go home and only lose a bit of weight of the coming months....) back home and Christmas was all but cancelled as COVID spread across the UK. I had no support from the outpatient services due to my EDP disappeared off the face of the planet - we had a really good theoretically plan from my discharge CPA that she would catch up with me each week to make the transition smoother than in the past however these appointments never happened, she was uncontactable and the day before I left the ward I got a phone call from the service telling me that someone would phone me at the end of the week to make sure I was home and safe. That EDP who I was originally working with was never seen again and no longer works for the service/no one will talk about her so Im not sure what happened there...

Anyway, I eventually got access to a therapist but it took a few months and by that time I was already finding things hard (looking back the last few months of that admission I was slipping and lapsing but despite asking for more help I actually got LESS which was just...well we wont go into it). Months passed and I was just sort of floating and, looking back now, was very much still struggling with trauma elements/triggers/flashbacks. Positively though I had reapplied to University (for the millionth time) and had some unconditional places and an interview lined up for Cambridge....however, as some of you know, I had also applied for a degree apprenticeship with a global company on a bit of a whim when I was once told I would never amount to anything whilst in hospital and low and behold as I went through the extremely long and challenging process, I felt more things click into place and was, after more interviews and assessment centres offered one of 6 places on the course in the South! I was in shock (and still am) but in the end I decided to withdrew all my uni applications (in hindsight traditional University didn't quite seem to be the right 'fit' for me/my personality traits) and accepted the degree apprenticeship in business/professional management with the company to start in the autumn.

I was also very very very fortunate that I also got my little bundle of fluff, Luna, in the Spring and I honestly could not have asked for a better soul mate, she is honestly my everything - fluff and all.

After some time had passed I was offered, by the IP consultant I had been under for the previous 8 months admission, to go back for a short top up to help me get to a stronger place to take my place on the apprenticeship as I had been slowly relapsing and falling backwards/into old cycles. I eventually took up this up and spent 3ish months (I think) back in hospital...Tbh it was a horrible admission, the ward was a complete mess and whilst I was there both consultants who had been there for donkeys years left, I had no support and was just left to my own devices...(Im not putting blame on anyone and I know I moan a lot about services and admissions etc and don't want it to sound like I wasn't grateful for the support, god I was, and still am, however looking back I just wasn't in the right mindset for it as I wasn't really willing to give up the control/eating disorder/self destructing and self sabotage loops/cycles, which is hard for me to acknowledge and admit).

I unfortunately came up against a number of roadblocks in terms of starting my apprenticeship as I needed to be signed off by Occ Health but as I was in hospital they couldn't say I could start in September, yet the hospital were saying that they wouldn't discharge me without knowing that I had the apprenticeship starting without a delay....this led to yet another limbo land of me being in hospital but not being in hospital which was horrendous. Looking back, a trigger for me is probably uncertainty, which can lead to feeling unsafe and find it hard to trust others. I was eventually discharged from the community despite the work situation not being solved as we seemed to be stuck in a stalemate situation where something had to give. Due to all the paperwork etc I had to wait another month to start my apprenticeship, which was a real shame as others on the course had begun and I again had the feeling of "being behind" which fed directly into my perfectionism/people pleasing and was a reminder of how I felt when I went off to Bristol Uni all those years ago feeling behind because I hadn't studied A level Biology and had been out of education for years. The company was very supportive and in terms of our cohort we do rotations/placements in different teams, so I didn't have to deal with too many difficult situations/interactions with others on my course who had started before me.

[ha-hatdog]

all in a day's work / daisuke kambe

somebod requested a badass reader? sorry for this very late update. online classes is kicking my butt. you wanted either a scenario or a headcanon so i decided to make both. long scenario/headcanom mashup ahead.

requsted by anon: Hii!! I just want to say first of all, that I just discovered your blog and I just fell in love with it, keep going you’re amazing❤️❤️ soo can I ask for a Headcanon or scenario (it’s up to you) where Haru has a female friend who works in modern crimes prevention and is really badass (like she knows how to fight and all that stuff), so one day she helps Daisuke and Haru in a investigation in which a fight starts and Daisuke gets impressed by her abilities and develops a crush on her (????)

UNEDITED

__

It was another mundane morning for the the Modern Crimes department. The room was oddly colder, and the civil servants occupying the compact and simple space secluded themselves with their own businesses. Mahoro Saeki sat on the couch partaking in an unhealthy snack she had shipped from a foreign country, Kamei Shinnosuke was browsing through the internet and more than once using to his advantage the global connection that comes with his access to the computer in order to satisfy his habits and indecent hobbies, Yumoto Teppei tuning in to the occuring horse race in an international channel in his device, Nakamoto Chosuke merrily bading his time reading through documents of recent illegal activities assigned to his care, Kiyomizu Yukihiro fiddling with yet another craft he made out of wood and glue, Kato Haru awaiting the telephone to sound off and have another indiviual summon him for a petty crime, and Kambe Daisuke seated far from the othere, legs crossed and chin resting on his knuckles as he appraised the tranquil area.

Haru slammed his hands on his desk and threw his head, moaning in disdain. "Why isn't the phone ringing?" Whined he as his posture was regained after a moment or so. His eyes, lit with pure frustration and impatience, glared at the telephone, as though threatening without verbalizing his objective would somehow make it ring. "Come on, ring, you stupid phone. How come you always ring whenever I don't want you to and don't when I do?"

"It's a slow day." Remarked Kamei, not takint his eyes off his computer as he regarded his colleague. "Try to enjoy it. You can have all your action some other day."

Haru leaned against his chair, back sliding against the backrest and the back of his neck hitting the edge of his leverage. "Not everyone has weird hobby to keep themselves entertained." Countered Haru, and a pout formed on the blond male's lips at the comment. "This job is what keeps me from going insane."

The offended male turned his swivel chair to face Haru, face scrunched with the same attribute he exuded, "Oi, don't say it like that. It's bad if you describe it like that."

"It's weird without even having to add the adjective." Saeki chimed in between her chewing, humming as the flavor of the chip formerly cinched in the possession of her fingers travelled to her taste buds.

Kamei whipped around to her position, shoulders tensr with the taste of truth and reality, both of which ignored in favor of living in bliss. "It's nor weird. It's perfectly normal for men to be looking at those . . . sort of inappropriate . . . videos." His words trailed off as he came to realization that his own defense betrayed him.

"I agree, but not at work." Haru simply retorted. "Would you want to see me cooking a whole feast inside the precint?"

Kamei looked up in ponder, mouth curling as his thought process stuttered before he presented his inquiry, "Do we get to taste the food you made though?"

Haru stared at the blond man with an impervious mask decorating his appearance, unimpressed with how the man broached the metaphorical event served to him. "Never mind." Shaking his head with amicable dismay, Haru turned his seat to a half circle, arms taking space upon the the armrests. His line of sight crossed over the facile yet minimalistic design of their room, the dull colors of the walls an addition to his disinterest until it landed on a brooding and well vested man.

The referred individual had boredom etched all over his striking features, the lack of events occuring in the Modern Crimes he could invest his time in had him in a bad mood although showcasing it to his colleagues was not his cup of tea. He and Haru were different, and how they handle themselves in this patience consuming day was one of them.

"I'm surprised you're still here." Haru conveyed with a vestige of astonishment. Truly the older man had no such ability that could understand the complexity of his wealthy counteepart. Most days, whenever days were a little too slow for his liking, he would up and retreat back to his home (mansion seems more of an appropriate term to refer to his household) but lately, he had been spending more time in the precinct, and Haru did not know how he should react to this development, or devolvement. His comment floated in the density formulating inside the office, and everybody present swiveled their heads to await his response. "I thought you'd be back in your house now. No cases today, it seems. No games to entertain yourself with today."

"Tell me something I have yet to know, Inspector Kato." Retorted Daisuke, and a tick mark grew on Haru's forehead, but his displeasure to his rude counter was ignored as Daisuke brought his fingers to his ear. He spoke, enough for others to hear his statements. "HEUSC, locate the nearest and most recent crimes occuring within the area."

Haru rose from his seat, alarmed. "Oi, what do you think you're doing?"

Daisuke did not respond to Haru and awaited his butler's relay of information. It did not take more than a few seconds until it has accumulated enough information to submit to his master. "A few streets away, a murder of two took place in a bar called Denyr. Investigation is in process currently."

Daisuke removed his hand from his earpiece and looked towards a flabbergasted. "You heard HEUSC. Let's get going." Daisuke stood up from the couch, dusting himself off before making his way towards the door.

"Wait a minute," Clamored Haru, and Daisuke looked over his shoulder to gaze at him. Haru gritted his teeth, irritated. "You can't just up and go and do whatever you want! This is not your call! We weren't called so we'll just disturb everyone else who's already there."

"Aren't cops allowed to interfere in crimes or disturbance in peace whenever they want? It's their job." Said Daisuke. "And besides, you're just as eager as I am to do something other than waste the entire day waiting for the phone to ring." Then he frowned. "Unless, I'm mistaken, of course. I have no qualms leaving you here. I'm sure you'll be useful for warming up your chair for tomorrow."

Haru growled at him. "You stupid . . . " He grunted and took his jacket off his chair. "Fine! I'll go with you, just to keep you in check!"

“Wait a minute,” Exclaimed Saeki, causing Haru and Daisuke to turn just as the latter had began turning the doorknob. The pink haired female abandoned her seat in favor of giving them a standing and patronizing narrowed glower. “Haru, aren’t you forgetting something today?”

Haru looked up in thought, trying to recall what Saeki was implying. Nothing significant manifested in his line of thought and he turned to his colleague with a frown conjuring in his mien. “Uh, I don’t think I’m forgetting anything.” Answered Haru.

Daisuke grunted, displeased by the interrupting. “Then let’s get going.”

Daisuke pushed the door open and stepped outside. Haru was following suit, shrugging his jacket on when Saeki called out for them once more, particularly the older officer. She had her arms crossed, an unamused pout forming on her brims. “Haru, don’t be stupid!” Clamored she. “I can’t believe you forgot what today is!”

Haru let out an exasperated sigh. “I honestly can’t remember what makes today so important.” Said he. “What is it?”

Kamei rolled his swivel chair back, making sure to reveal himself from any obstructions blocking his form. “Eh? You of all people forgot (Your Name) is coming back?” He conveyed and whistled right after. “That’s surprising, and disappointing. I’m sure she won’t be thrilled knowing you’ll be the last one welcoming her back after her hospitalization – her best friend, her partner in crime.”

Haru’s face fell upon acquiring the information relayed to him. His mind refreshed, finally remembering the time when you took your time from resting in the hospital just to tell him you were soon to be discharged after the outcome of you recklessly electing to throw yourself in front of him when the perpetrator pulled the trigger and shot a bullet his way. You were fortunate enough to have the cylindrical metal projectile imbedded nowhere near any of your vital veins, but due to your blood loss as well as the stacking strain and stress in your body forced you to be admitted in the care of the hospital. Haru was sure you were not supposed to move when you selected to take your phone and call him because he can hear the nurse in the other line scolding you, telling you to end the connection and to rest easy for the remaining week. He could only miss you more – he knew how much you hated doing anything but police work. Haru couldn’t believe he forgot about that since he distinctly remember hardly being able to be consumed by sleep when excitement for your return filled him.

“Shit, it’s today.” Cursed Haru as his shoulders dropped. He slapped his palm against his forehead, groaning. “My God – how can I forget? I’m the worst partner ever.”

Daisuke glanced at Haru, bemused. This was the first time he had heard over this (Your Name) woman. To him, Haru was always a lone wolf who preferred to be alone in his work unless he was required to have a companion with him. Or maybe because it was loyalty to his said partner kept him from going to missions with another. Daisuke looked back at Saeki and Kamei, “Who’s (Your Name)?”

Haru wanted nothing more than to hide your existence from Daisuke. You already had so much in your plate and having a rich bastard interpolating with it was more than you can handle, especially after being hospitalized for quite a while. But it was inevitable for the two of you to meet seeing as Daisuke seemed to be taking a strong liking with playing cop and were in the same department as him. So resigning with the concept of keeping you away from Daisuke, Haru let out a deep sigh. “(Your Name) is another cop in our department. She’s my partner.”

Daisuke blinked at him. “Someone can actually put up with you?”

Haru angrily show his fist to Daisuke, irritation swathing his figure. “What was that? I should be the one saying something that! I don’t know how Suzue-san can put up with your rich ass!”

“Maybe if you’re rich, you’ll know.” Countered Daisuke.

Before Haru could grab hold of Daisuke’s collar, the latter efficiently evaded his attempt to do so and stalked off into the corridor, adjusting his pristine suit as he ventured away. “If you want to stay here and wait for your partner, fine by me. I can go alone and handle the murders all by myself.” He said without looking back to meet Haru’s hardened gaze. “I’m sure this (Your Name) person is more important than the safety of other Japanese citizens.”

“O-Oi, I haven’t even decided yet! Don’t assume I’m not going!” As much as Haru wanted to be the first person to greet you back to work, he too loved justice and cared about the people who wanted to live in peace. Clicking his tongue out of annoyance, he turned to everyone left in the room, and all of them returned his gaze with bemused expressions. “Kambe and I will be quick. We’ll just drop by the crime scene and then cime back. I’m sure I’ll be able to return here before (Your Name) can. If not, tell her I’ll be back soon.”

***

daisuke was never inclined to pursue a romantic relationship. ever since witnessing his mother died, his life had been reserved into finding the truth. but little did he know, his perspective in love and romance will change, and hary will most certainly freak the fuck out

the two police officers arrived in the crime scene in a short amount of time. with how daisuke was speeding, it was understandable they would get there fast and very understandable how haru's whole life flashed right before his eyes. daisuke was actually tempted to go even faster but opposed to it after a while as he did not want to deal more with haru's tantrum after he recovered.

of course when they arrived there, the detectives assigned to the case shooed them off because they're not part of the investigations.

daisuke knew how to deal with them, of course. he brandished stacks of yen to include them in the case and the detectives were like 👀 because you know, who doesn't want extra cash?

haru didn't bother complaning anymore and just went to work. he wanted to get back to the station as soon as possible and welcome you first. best friend efforts, get a best friend like haru.

haru: "i scout the ground floor, you go upstairs - AND NO SPENDING MONEY YOU RICH BASTARD"

daisuke:

haru:

daisuke:

haru:

daisuke:

haru:

haru: "and - "

daisuke left before haru could finish his sentence. really daisuke just stayed and didn't answer him just so he could piss haru off. it worked nonetheless and daisuke can hear haru cursing at him as he walked upstairs

but we all know whatever daisuke does pisses haru off so so it didn't matter.

daisuke went up to the second floor if the bar and he saw how thrashed the place was

overturned tables, fallen chairs, broken bottles, reeks of alcohol, smears and pools of blood but everything seemed pleasant to look at compared to the two corpses that laid out on the floor with police tapes around them. it looked like a small massacre occured in there, and thay surely was the case

head smashed, chunks of flesh scattered, broken skulls but daisuke merely stared at them blankly

he wasn't disgusted nor disturbed. seeing his own mother's corpse was enough for him to deem gore as just another normal addition to his life

like another detective, daisuke began looking for clues. he searched the entire place like the good and professional detective he is -

who am i kidding - the first thing he did once he sees the condition of the second floor was, or course, ask HEUSC for information. screw asking them from fellow detectives when daisuke has his own ai butler

ahh perks of being a kambe

daisuke: "heusc, tell me the exact number of people that attended this bar between nine am to twelve in the afternoon"

heusc: "understood"

it did not take long until heusc responded

heusc: "the exact number of people who attended genyr is twenty seven. twelve in the ground floor, twelve in the ground floor, fifteen in the second. there are two dead bodies found in the second floor - "

daisuke snapped his head to the ceiling as soon as he heard a soft creak emit from over him

daisuke stared at the ceiling for about a moment before askint heusc - "look at the footage from the surveillance cameras surrounding the the bar. how many people fled outside?"

daisuke heard another creek above him, and this time he was sure he wasn't alone

and his unknown companion would love to have him in the same state as the corpses

and heusc replied: "twenty four"

daisuke closed his eyes, "is that so?"

heusc: "one person remains inside the building"

daisuke dropped his communication with his ai and positioned himself to a clean posture, back straight and hands tucked inside his pockets

daisuke: "you can come out now. no use hiding. i know you're here"

no response

daisuke clicked his tongue, "i heard you moving around in the ceiling the entire time i'm here and it's only been two minutes. you're not as discreet as you think you are. reveal yourself now and i'd consider lessening your time in jail."

still, silence greeted him

daisuke was growing irritated by the lack of answer given to him.

daisuke: "a coworker of mine needs to be back at the station right now for a reunion with his girlfriend - " daisuke paused as he imagined haru having a girlfriend. " - so let's keep this short and simple. surrender and as i have promised earlier, i will try to get you lesser years in prison"

but daisuke was not intending to keep this promise. even he knows giving a generous offer to criminals would weaken their resolve

but again, there was no answer

but he expected this

he always does to every case he gets handed with, or forced his hands to

daisuke observed the ceiling through a blank lense before sighing "if this is how you want things to go down, then so be it"

daisuke touched his earring and deliberately increased the volume of his voice as he spoke to heusc - "heusc, purchase the bar and its neighboring buildings and set a bomb for twenty minutes. tell the others to get out of here as soon as possible" he sneered at the ceiling. "i don't mind dying inside this bar with the suspect. it's the norm for a police officer to risk theit lives in the name of justice"

he sounded like haru for a moment there

heusc responded immediately: "understood, sir. balance: unlimited"

it was after that statement did a response come to light

the ceiling above daisuke broke as a firm kick broke through the fragile material

daisuke jumped away before a slim figure of a man dropped down from the hole

before daisuke could move, the man dashed pass him and out of the room, his oustretchrd hand barely grazing the bloodied clothes he wore

daisuke didn't waste time and recovered from his stunned state before following after the perpetrator

daisuke kept losing track of the man from time to the time and when he got down to the grounr floor, he saw no sign of him

nobody was present inside the bar anymore per order of heusc and money

all except for haru of course who immediately ran out of the place he was scouring and back to the main room

daisuke knew he heard heusc's order to leave the building but

haru will always be haru

haru, upon seeing daisuke's solemn state, asked: "what happened"

daisuke: "the man - did you see him?"

*haru, confused noises*: "what man? who?"

daisuke: "the man who killed the peple upstairs - he was still here and he ran down, didn't you hear him?"

haru: "no, i didn't - " his sentence was cut off when a figure suddenly lunged at him

lo and behold the criminal who was hiding behind an overturned couch

haru and the man tumbled down to the ground, fists and feet swinging wildly. daisuke watched as haru struggled to acquire dominance over the situation

daisuke: "heusc, identity of the killer"

heusc: "sakatoshi matona, a former bouncer for genyr until he was let go without reason"

haru strung out profanities and grunts as he and the matona rolled on the floor, trying to pin the other down. with a boost of strength, matona managed to get the upper hand and he put all his weight on haru. his hands found haru's neck and began strangling him

daisuke was like aren't you cop? win you idiot in the inside and haru was like aren't you a cop? help me you bastard in the inside. just the norm for the reckless and seemingly suicidal cops

haru: "gwet hiff op opp mii"

heusc: "transalation: get him off of me"

daisuke took action after that. he pulled matona off of haru and immediately socked him on the face

matona stumbled back but daisuke underestimated the time he would tske to recover and he tumbled back as the criminal retaliated with a punch of his own

daisuke dodged the assault but in the process, temporarily losing his posture. matona took this as an opportunity to continue his line of attacks, landing a few good hits on daisuke but majority of the time, he failed

daisuke recovered from the initial shock matona has inflicted him with and returned to momentum ane he was preparing his attack when bam - haru kato

my day be so fine then boom - haru kato

daisuke's eyes widened when haru, after standing up, tried to lock matona's arms to prevent him from moving anymore but instead, his chest met with an elbow

air was taken away from him and haru staggered backwards, clutching his chest and matona seized him

daisuke cursed and shot forward to help him but stopped when matona took haru's gun away from him and pointed it towards haru

matona: "stand back or i'll shoot"

haru raised his hands in surrender but daisuke did not

and haru was: ?????!!!!! tryna get me killed????!!!!

daisuke: "i can keep my promise, you know"

matona pointed the gun at daisuke

matona: "how can you when you're just a lowly cop?"

daisuke took out his cigar and lit up

daisuke: "yes, because a lowly cop can just buy buildings with a single command from an ai"

matona growled "rich, snobby, uncaring, and a liar. you're just the same like the people i killed"

daisuke opened his mouth to reply when a feminine voice cuts in

"finally, a confession. now we can get this over with"

before anyone could react appropriately, matona felt a hand take hold of his stolen gun and tore it away from his grasp before a heel sunk into his stomach, causing him to spit out blood

daisuke saw her, a woman standing with such grace, confidence, and strength with a gun in her hand and a smirk on her brims

daisuke couldn't move not from shock, but with admiration

who was this woman?

and what was this thudding in his chest

doki doki

his face was hot, very hot

and so was the woman

"( YOUR NAME )???"

daisuke turned and saw haru gawking at you

haru: (@[]@!!)

daisuke: （－－）

also daisuke: is that really (your name)? haru's partner? haru's girlfriend?

daisuke: hmp hmp（｀ー´）

you turned to both of them and daisuke was blown away with you that he nearly fell

he thinks you're very pretty

V E R Y

doki doki

you smiled widely at them: "haru, it's so nice to see you again" and then you turned to daisuke

daisuke froze and his cigar dropped

you glanced back at haru: "you already replaced me?"

haru: "tf no! rich boy here wanted to plays cops for a while so he went to our department. you know me, i could never replace you"

daisuke glared at haru

it waa obvious he was trying hard not to upset you (though you didn't look like the type who would get easily offended)

plus he's pushing a single and narrow minded narrative about him towards you. what if you hate him?

but you didn't and merely smiled at him, ignoring the criminal trembling from the pain of your kick

you: "my name is (your name)"

daisuke.exe has stopped working

jk that won't happen to daisuke

for now at least

daisuke: "kambe daisuke"

you, smiling: "nice to meet you, kambe daisuke!"

haru: "how did you find us here?"

you: "was gon get a drink before i head to the station but then i saw police tapes and stuff"

haru looked alarmed: "YOU WERE GOING TO DRINK RIGHT AFTER YOU GOT RELEASED FROM THE HOSPITAL"

you turned away from them, facing matona: "you can continue scolding me after we arrest this killer, haru. sorry in advance for haru, daisuke. he can be pretty overbearing and protective"

daisuke: "i can tell"

haru was offended okay?

you were already teaming up with daisuke to tease? betrayal.

haru: "how dare you (your name) - "

you did not let haru to finish his sentence and starter beating the shit out of matona like DAMN GHORL

daisuke and haru watched from a distance as you expertly used the gun to your advantage without pulling the trigger. you used the metal to hit him in fragile parts of his body in order to limit his movement

daisuke gawked at you

he has never seen such fluid execution for an arrest

daisuke looked: O-O

haru, seeing him, smugly crossed his arms and said: "you get to see how amazing (your name) is as a cop. she's my partner"

just as he said that, you pinned the criminal down on the ground, gun discarded, your one hand straining his arm behind his back and the other pinning his other hand on the ground

you: "i just got out of the hospital. how did i still win?"

daisuke suddenly frowned

oh, right. she's haru's girlfriend.

several minutes later, you successfully managed to arrest sakatoshi matona and the other detectives came to take him. but of course, you made sure you, daisuke, and haru were getting the recognition

like hell you were letting someone else get the glory for your efforts

you returned to daisuke and haru, smiling

they were talkiny when you hugged haru from behind

you: "haru i missed youuuu. it was lonely without your annoying butt looking out after me all the time"

haru flushed red

haru: "if you didn't catch the bullet for me then - "

you: "and let you get shot instead? nu uh, no way. i would take any bullet for you. right, daisuke?"

he felt speechless when you regarded him

daisuke didn't know what else to say to you so he said: "yes, i agree"

but somehow the the thought of you getting shot angered him

haru looked at daisuke, thinking: he acting kinda sus rn

you turned to haru and the two of you began catching up, smiling and laughing

you two looked comfortable so with each other. you two were carbon copies of one another, except you were ten times better, sorry haru

you two were made for each other

no wonder you're his girlfriend

you: "how's everyone in the precinct?"

haru: "still the same. everyone missed you"

daisuke: "are you two together?"

haru: 👁👄👁

you: *long ass laughing emoji*

haru turned very red, shouting: "WHERE DID YOU GET THAT IDEA"

daisuke: "you said you were partners - "

you: "i didn't know you liked me that way, haru - "

haru: "NO I DON'T KAMBE WAS JUST BEING A DUMBASS"

you tittered and turned to daisuke: "no, we're not together, kambe-san" you tucked a lock of hair behind your ear. "sorry if i scared you"

daisuke felt relief wash over him

daisuke: "i was just wondering. you and haru seemed very close so i was just making sure i wasn't misunderstanding"

daisuke froze with wide eyes when you leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek

and you whispered to him: "gotta work on being discreet when you look at me. i can practically see you chasing after me in the future with how you were looking at me. i'm flattered you find me that fascinating"

you turned to the shook haru: "i like this one, haru. we should bring him along with our cases"

you regarded them both: "anyways, i'll be heading over to the station first. i can write up the report and have man behind bars quickly. don't worry though, i'll make all three of us have the glory. i trust that you two can finish up here without me?"

the two men wanted to say something but both of them were stunned. you just kissed daisuke on the cheek and your best friend saw it. daisuke's eyes were wide and haru had his jaw dropping down

they still didn't say anything when you bid them farewell and just watched as you went to a police car with another cop where matona was and sped off

daisuke can feel his heart hammering against his chest

what was this feeling? it was so strange and . . . it's just strange, but he was not oppossed to thie feeling

in fact, he wanted more of it. as long as it came from you, it was fine

haru, however, was not

haru looked like he had seen the most horrifying thing ever

B E T R A Y E D

his best friend and this cop wannabe?

D I S G U S T H A N G

daisuke cleared his throat and turned to haru to say something but was met with a finger pointed at his face and haru looking vexed

haru: "you - "

the bar and the buildings nearby exploded beforw haru could say anything more. everyone except for daisuke was startled and sunk down on the ground

daisuke was not though. and he remained standing. not for the reason he forgot about the bomb he instructed heusc to plant but because

- you kissed him and he was self destructing

daisuke held back the smile threatening to tear through his face

haru: "w-what was t-t-th - "

daisuke: "i forgot about the bomb, sorry"

[wizkiddx]

the worst case scenario 2

i did decide to make this a little parter thing, but really want to be as sensitive as poss (honestly using this as a sort of therapy for what I see myself ah). So please   do not read if anything in the warnings may trigger. I very much am not trying to ‘romanticise’ these sorts of situations in any way but also be aware medically this is NOT accurate.This part is short but I think there will be more.

warnings: hospital - ICU, respirators / mention of death , maternal mortality / talk of family dynamics and abandonment of a child

[previous part]

The sight Nikki walked into is something that as a parent you never want to see. Walking into this cold and otherwise empty ‘relatives room’ to see her son collapsed in a world of pain onto his best mates chest. Tom was too busy sobbing to even notice her entrance but her and  Harrison instantly locked eyes . Not even able to muster up a greeting smile, Harrison just nodded her in, admitting her entrance to the most horrific situation. 

It was about half an hour since she had been texting Haz, arranging when they’d be able to come and visit the newborn in hospital or whether it would be better to just wait till the new family got settled back at home, when Nikki had got a call from Tom’s number. With an excited grin she had instantly whipped her phone off the kitchen counter within one ring- a facial expression that didn’t last long at all. 

Met with the distant sound of crying first, Harrison’s deeper voice then emitted itself from her phones speaker, alerting her to the fact everything was very not right. He’d asked her to come to the hospital, said it was Y/n, that the baby was fine and then hung up. Dom immediately agreed to come with her but right now he was still parking the car, having dropped Nikki off right at the front. It had sounded that bad. 

Now, she knelt down infront of Haz and Tom, the latter who still was leaning over the arm rest and currently silently crying into his friends chest. Haz didn’t miss Nikki’s hands shaking as she reached out and rubbed up and down her sons back, the action prompting him to suddenly lean up to face her. He was broken. Totally and completely broken. Wordlessly, Nikki looked up for a second, communicating with Harrison so as if rehearsed he stood up and Nikki took his place in the chair - giving him a break from being Tom’s support. Beyond appreciative of how well Nikki could read a situation, Haz quietly but still in a hurried fashion made his way to the door. 

Because he was about to crack too - Tom couldn’t see him like that, not right now at least. And so his legs, completely of their own volition, carried him down the hallways. He had absolutely no idea what time it was, all sense of time passing had completely been thrown off earlier in the morning. He was oblivious to a lot, very much in his own thoughts and only realised where he had ended up when a nurse he vaguely recognised managed to garner his attention. 

“You’re here for baby Holland? She’s just round here.”

“I-“ He couldn’t respond but the nurse just nodded and then started off down the hallway, practically forcing the blonde to follow a couple of meters till they got to a perspex viewing window. 

“She’s the little cutie in the far corner over there.” The brunette middle aged lady softly spoke as she pointed through the glass to the incubator in the corner. “ Don’t worry about all the equipment, the doctors already come round and cleared her. She’s good to go home when you guys are…are ready.” Her words had trailed off, Harrison guessed she didn’t know how to phrase the current ‘situation’ Tom and Y/n were in either. After a couple of moments, the nurse placed a gentle hand on Harrison’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “You want to have a cuddle? I know your not dad but…”

“Yeh-yeh…please.” 

Harrison just felt awful. The little girl was barely hours into life and yet she wasn’t receiving nearly as much as love as she should be. Instead unnamed and alone in a cold and clinical setting. So he silently nodded away, taking in all the instructions the nurse gave as she sat him down in the arm chair next to the incubator. 

Once she placed the little blanket wrapped bundle in his arms the nurse smiled gently up at Haz “You want to feed her? I’m sure she’d prefer it from you than me love?” Ah. Now Haz really was stuck between a rock and a hard place. She’d never been given a feed before - except presumably the midwifes. 

“I-uh Y/n hasn’t even  so I probably shouldn’t…”

“I can promise you Miss Y/l/n would probably want her baby to be cared for by someone that loves her and that Miss Y/l/n trusts herself.” Ooof. How were nurses so intuitive? She literally read his mind and broken down all the ill-founded ideas Harrison had built up. 

“I’m not her Dad.”

“But you care.” Looking down once and briefly at the squished little face that wormed herself into Harrisons broad chest a little more, he then immediately nodded in agreement. Looking almost relieved, the nurse handed him a bottle and directed him as to how to hold it. After mere moments she gasped happily, leaning back whilst the blonde boy waited for her input. 

“She’s latched on easy peasy. You’re doing great, I can leave you to it if you want - I’ll only be round the corner.”

“Can you check if there’s any news on Y/n?” The kind lady nodded, before promptly exiting the room - leaving the two actually alone for the first time ever. 

He didn’t even think about it, whilst Haz cradled her in one arm and held the bottle up at the angle shown by the nurse, he quietly spoke to the little bundle. 

“I’m sorry you were lonely… your mum and dad love you lots and lots… we all do.” Not realising he was crying, Harrison almost scared himself when a single strangled and repressed sob escaped from his chest. “ You’re mum…. She’s a pain in the arse right?” Haz laughed a little wetly “ She’s sarky as hell and she always has an answer… you’d probably think she’s a badass… she is. And-and…. Your dad is just scared… He loves you I promise, he just… he’s worried about you mum.” Now there was actual tears welling up and overflowing his lower lash line, not matter how much he tried to blink them away. “But whatever… whatever happens. You got all of us kiddo… you got me.”

Jolted out of his thoughts by the ladies knuckles rapping twice on the door, Harrison immediately shook himself out of it, wiping his face on his arm to hopefully remove all the evidence of the slight emotional breakdown. 

“Mr Osterfield… the doctor wanted me to let you know he’s on his way to talk to Mr Holland.”

||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

Harrison managed to get back to Tom, Nikki and now Dom before Dr Webber returned, so with a greeting nod to Dom he too took a seat opposite Nikki and Tom. His best mate wasn’t crying anymore, which could be considered a positive were it not for the sinisterly empty look in his eye. He looked almost robotic, staring almost straight ahead at the light grey wall, sat straight and rigidly except for his one hand clasped in Nikki’s. 

“You went to see the baby?” Nikki broke the silence, making Harrison smile sadly over at her with a nod. It didn’t even look as though Tpm heard his mum speak, even if he was sat right next to her. “She’s okay?”

“Yeh…I gave her a bottle. She-she’s very cute.” Harrison could see Nikki’s face morph into one of kindness before she looked left toward her son. Nikki was still yet to see to unnamed girl but just thinking about her made her heart flutter. And then stop when she thought about what that little girl was already going through, barely hours into existence. 

“You hear that Tom? Maybe you could go down and see her soon? After we’ve spoken to the doctor?” Nikki was only trying to do the best thing, Harrison knew it and deep down Tom did know it too. But now really really wasn’t the time for some gently encouragement from his mother, it wasn’t just Tom being a little stubborn. This was his whole entire world falling apart around him. He didnt have the energy or focus to even shoot down his mother, instead Tom chose to stay completely still - engrossed in his own thoughts. 

From the outset, when you take that leap and say to a person ‘I think we should try for kids now’ you are completely putting yourself at the mercy of the other. But when they agree? Then it’s a commitment. Not it the same way marriage is - because that’s a completely selfish gesture, you get married because YOU want to be married to each other. Rather, agreeing to have a kid is a promise, a promise of something more. Promising that you are bringing this life into the world - and half of that life is yours. You create it together and it becomes a joint responsibility. You can never, no matter what people think, ever stop being a parent. At the end of it all there will be another person that knows, scientifically, it is half you. Even if they never met you - they still ‘knew’ you. They would know you had to exist, they would see things in themselves that cannot be explained rather than the influence of their creator. 

And sure, it didn’t always work out that way. A parent would up and leave, a child always with questions and a sense of betrayal. But that child… they know you. Because there is half of you in them. 

So it was Y/n and Tom together that was slumbering blissfully on a ward downstairs. That was the scary thing. Tom was so sure he didn’t have it in him. He  wouldn’t do this without her. He couldn’t be a dad to a baby without a mum. He couldn’t be a parent without Y/n. 

Almost thankfully for the atmosphere in the room, a soft know had them all snatching their heads up the very same grey slightly potato like doctor waddled in, this time followed by 2 others; a tall, dark haired woman with a soft and empathetic smile; then another man but this one tall and slender, unlike the other two who were wearing professional clothes, he was donned in scrubs (with the scrub hate too).

“Mr Holland and uh… family” Dr Webber awkwardly greeted the new arrivals of Nikki and Dom, somehow apparently sensing they were Tom’s and not Y/n’s parents who were hours away. Oh fuck, Tom hadn’t even phoned them yet. 

“This is Dr Alison Goodwell and then Dr Rohan Avinash, he is Y/n’s surgeon.” They filed in and took seats surrounding them, Dom and Harrison standing up to stand off to the side, not wanting to get in the way of the doctors. All Tom could do though was overanalyse everything. Why was the surgeon here? What was this other lady doing here? A  pathologist? — no, he wasn’t going to think like that. Then the taller and most scary looking of the three inched forward, commanding the attention of the whole room.

“Mr Holland, I just wanted to go over what happened. Ms Y/l/n developed plactental accreta, which was the cause of the what we call here a post partum haemorrhage. When you raised the alarm she had already lost, at best guess, 3 pints of blood which is a lot, there’s no denying. Dr Webber and his team quickly brought her up to my team in surgery. We transfused her with blood but we couldn’t stabilise her and the bleeding didn’t show any signs of stopping so we had to perform emergency surgery….” Dr Avinash slowed down as he took in how close Tom looked to bursting out in tears once again, offering him the chance to have a moment to collect himself. Vehemently shaking his head in refusal, Tom crung his hands together furiously. He just needed to know. “Okay… Now the nature of the surgery, because we had to be so quick…it is quite invasive and is a lot of stress to put on anyones body. That and the amount of blood she had already lost makes the situation very dangerous. Sometimes when this happens a persons heart-“ Tom’s breath halted in his throat at the mention of her heart, Harrison sharing the bleak trigger which made him shift uncomfortable between his two feet. “-notices this, it goes into what we call hypovoloemic shock, this just basically means its not getting enough volume of blood to pump properly. So we have had to stimulate Ms Y/l/n’s heart with electricity to keep it pumping-“

“You shocked her?” He felt so numb and now adrenalin was coursing through his own veins, images like you see on TV shows of her body arching up not he table from the volts of electricity.

“I’m afraid we did have to but it meant we could keep her stable enough to fix the bleed. I am sorry to say this but we’ve had to remove her whole womb because it was so damaged.”

“But Y/n?” Again Harrison lost all willpower of control, though to be fair he wasn’t sure if he was being impatient or not -  this doctor appeared to be delivering this news painfully slowly, as if to torture everyone as much as possible.

“Your fiancé lost a lot of blood and her body went through a lot” The towering doctor kept his focus on Tom the whole time, Harrison’s interjection seemingly falling on selectively deaf ears. “We’ve had to use a machine to control her breathing  and for the moment she is still in a very dangerous place. Right now she is stable but I don’t want to make any promises to you. We are nowhere close to out of the woods yet.” Seemingly, feeling compelled to add in, the brunette doctor spoke for the first time since entering.

“But it’s still one hurdle she has got through… Now that the surgeons are finished with Ms Y/l/n me and the other intensive care doctors will be keeping a very close eye on her okay? We are all going to be working with you and your family 24/7, to keep Y/n as comfortable as possible.” Her soft smile managed to somehow break through to Tom, who jerkily nodded while Nikki squeezed his hand tight. There had been a lot of that going on  today and even if Tom would say he wished nothing more that it was Y/n rather than his mums grip - he still appreciated it. The doctor continued, leaning forward so her elbows were resting on the tops of her thighs. “Right now she’s asleep and probably will be for quite a while. We first want to be sure she’s not in any pain, so she is sedated. Now assuming everything goes okay tonight and she stays stable we might want to think about possibly reducing that sedation, however for right now I hope you are all in agreement that we just want to make sure she’s comfortable?” The whole room nodded steadily in response which the doctor acknowledged with a satisfied smile. 

“And we are all aware this is a lot to take in so if you have any questions or think of any please just let us know - it’s important that you guys are all fully in the know… How is your daughter?” Dr Webber started off so well, Tom was almost going to smile thankfully at him, until he mentioned it. Instantly, the cold and empty look reappeared behind Tom’s eyes as the room was held in silence for long enough to be uncomfortable. To be fair, the doctor wasn’t to know that recently Tom had taken to refusing to acknowledge he even had a child. 

“I-she’s really good… the nurse there said she’s ready to leave whenever” Harrison had to show that at least someone was looking out for her, he couldn’t not. 

“Okay” sharing a knowing look with Harrison, Dr Webber pitifully clasped his hands together, before looking back to Tom. “Would you like Dr Alison take you up to see her, sir?” 

again pls let me know if anyone is very not okay with this, i can take it down and not write any more!

[slashedthroughtheheart]

Patched up with the doc

'For a request, would it be okay if I asked for Herman taking care of a reader who got injured outside of a trial? I do kind of want it to be an angsty moment at first, but it just turns into fluff and comfort. I don't want smut or anything. Just Herman being a gentleman and showing the reader his affectionate, caring side. They both might not admit it at first, but they really like each other and always wanna be extremely close; Hugs and cuddles.'

This was the prompt, and here's what I went with! Enjoy a bit shorter of a fic featuring our good doctor, Herman Carter, taking care of a slightly belligerent reader!

It was just like any other day. You’d gone to the saloon in Glenvale with a few other survivors to just hang out. You couldn’t remember what you went out onto the upper deck wrapping around the saloon for, but you were cursing yourself for it now.

It was humiliating to be dangling with one leg partway through the broken floorboard. Whatever reason you had for coming out here was not worth it as you tried to pull yourself back up without further hurting yourself.

You weren’t having much luck, low curses leaving you as you prayed no one would come out to check on you. The last thing you needed was any of the other survivors, or entity forbid, any of the killers, to see you in such a pathetic position.

Being clumsy and mucking up a gen or two was bound to happen. Not making it to a pallet in time, no big deal. But something this pitiful was not something you wanted anyone to know about or see. You would never live it down.

You could picture the laughing stock you’d become if people caught wind that you literally fell through the floor and hurt yourself. You fell from greater heights during trials and had no problem rolling through it on the balls of your feet. Hell, there was that place in the Gideon meat plant that was way higher than the saloon and you’d never had trouble with that.

One last growl of frustration left you before a sharp intake of pain left you holding still after you definitely stabbed yourself on part of the broken board.

A barely audible whimper followed not soon after, the splintering wood jabbing at your torn skin. You could feel the blood dripping down your shin from where you had scraped yourself up, and from the fresh stabbing from trying to free yourself.

And just as you were going to try to move a different way, you heard the footsteps make creaks from somewhere behind you.

This was the worst case scenario, you could hear it was someone heavier than any of the survivors that had come with you. There’s no way Feng’s or Meg’s footsteps would be that loud.

Dread filled your heart as you whipped your head around, grimacing as your shift made the wood dig into you again.

And the eyes that landed on you lit up green when they saw the position you were in, awkwardly hunched onto the deck, obvious pain on your face and one leg dangling at just above the knee into the broken hole.

“Here, let me help you, my dear.”

Herman took purposeful steps towards you, intent on helping you free yourself and seeing to your wounds he caught the slightest glimpse of when you shifted in place.

“NO!”

He stopped, shocked at your sudden outburst.

You held an almost trembling hand up, as if that would keep him at bay. And it did, for a moment.

“I-I’m fine. I can do it myself. I don’t need any help, I’ll be fine.”

And as if the universe was amused in your suffering, when you tried to lift yourself once more from the jagged hole, a piece of wood lodged deeper into the beginning of your thigh, causing you to gasp out and almost choke on your pain.

“You don’t seem fine, y/n. Please let me at least assist you in getting out, I insist.” He’d moved forward a few steps, approaching slower, and eyeing the floorboards cautiously now.

You struggled again, throwing the same hand back up as you grit your teeth.

“I said no! I don’t want your help!” The tears were pricking at the corners of your eyes, stinging like you’d just cut up onions. Your nose burned as you held them in. The pain and humiliation leaving you a mortified and stubborn mess.

He hadn’t stopped in his approach, moving to the side and gently touching your arm with his hand, rubbing a small soothing circle on your shoulder.

“While any other time you saying no I would listen, I really must insist. You have injured yourself quite seriously, and are having a difficult time freeing yourself. I’ll get you up and out of that, and then we can head to Lérys and get you cleaned up. You’re sure to have splinters, and those are nearly impossible to remove on ones own, especially at the angle you’ve got them at.”

He sounded so matter-of-fact that you couldn’t even argue further, just holding in the tears and trying desperately not to sniffle and sound even more pitiful than you were sure you looked.

You tried to reason with yourself that at least it was Herman to find you and not someone like Danny or Frank. They would have probably laughed at you and gotten everyone else to come out and point and laugh with them.

You tried not to break down into tears of frustration as Herman moved around to your front, being careful of where he stepped and testing out the weight first before fully committing to the step.

He bent over, taking a moment to observer where the most damage was that he could see, the front of you leg just above the knee.

He simply hummed out in acknowledgment as he saw a rather large sliver of wood having made its home in your thigh, looking rather painful.

“Alright, I’m going to move you back just a bit and then lift you straight up. You might bump into the boards, but I’ll be able to get you up and standing just fine.” His hands moved to under your arms, taking care with his grip so as not to cause you any further discomfort.

At this point, you mutely accepted defeat, simply letting him take the lead as he adjusted you minutely before finally lifting you up, your leg not even brushing against the boards.

You felt even more miserable as you realized just how easily he’d gotten you out versus your own painful struggling that ended up with you hurting yourself more than doing any helping.

Once he had you out of the hole, you’d expected him to set you down on your own feet, but you were not expecting him to only rest you on them for a moment only to lean down to scoop you into his arms, injured leg on the outside.

At your bewildered look, he smiled gently. “Can’t have you walking with your leg like that, and Lérys is a bit of a walk.”

You wanted to protest, but at the same time you were getting your first good look at your leg, and maybe you really should just let him help you patch it up.

You weren’t even sure if Claudette could truly help fixing it up at this point.

So instead of fighting him on it, you nodded numbly, withdrawing into yourself so you wouldn’t give into the urge to start bawling like you’d been struggling with the whole time.

He went down the back steps, avoiding alerting any of the others to your condition, having noted that you were not in the mood to have anyone see you like this. You hadn’t even wanted him to help you, going so far as to try to pull yourself up and hurting yourself further.

No words passed between the two of you as he made his way towards Lérys, avoiding anyone else that you might have gone by with ease.

The relief you felt when he finally crossed the threshold into his realm was visible, pulling a very soft chuckle from him. It was nothing like his usual laughter. This laugh held a gentle mirth in it, a light but non-judgemental amusement.

“Rest assured, y/n. Your dignity is safe with me.” His thumb rubbed a small but soothing circle on the arm it was pressed against as he finally made his way into the building of the hospital, making a beeline for the closest room with the right equipment in it he’d need.

After carefully placing you on the hospital bed inside the room, he immediately went about gather the supplies he would need onto a rolling tray.

It did not take him much time at all to ready everything. There was a bottle of antiseptic, two pairs of tweezers, one big and one small, some gauze, a needle and some suture thread. It seemed you’d be getting stitches today.

At least these would be in a sterile environment with steady hands, unlike the ones you received during trials.

A meek “Thank you.” barely made it past your lips, your gaze staring at the gashes in your shin and the bit of wood protruding from your thigh.

Herman looked up from his readying of items, a soft smile gracing his features.

“It is not a problem, y/n. You were in distress, and I am more than happy to help.” He reached out, patting your uninjured leg for a moment before returning to the task at hand.

At his touch, you felt a warmth blossom in your chest, but you didn’t want to think about that right now. So you instead locked your gaze on your leg as he started meticulously cleaning your wounds and removing all the splinters you’d managed to get.

After the first touch sent near white hot pain through your body, you’d decided it was probably best not to watch so you laid yourself back, staring instead the ceiling as you balled your fists in an attempt to stay as still as possible.

Thankfully, the good doctor was precise in his movements and had you sufficiently patched up in seemingly no time at all. Considering the amount of damage, having to sit still for 20 minutes really hadn’t been that bad.

You let out a shaky breath in response to his question of how you were doing, still trying to hold your tears that had never left you in.

The weight of his palm against your upper arm startled you into opening your eyes and looking up at the now blue eyes of the doctor.

“It is okay, y/n. It’s understandable that this kind of injury is quite painful, especially considering the entity will likely not heal it until your next trial.” There was understanding in his face, a tenderness you’d never seen on him before.

It was foreign, but not unwelcome. You still felt plenty embarrassed by your situation, but the voice inside your head happily reminded you that it could have been worse.

Although, at the gentle press of his hand, the dam that had been holding back your emotions finally burst.

Hot tears trickled out the sides of your eyes to disappear into your hair behind your ears, the sensation feeling strange and only adding to your already frazzled nerves.

You sniffed once, twice, then let out a small but frustrated sounding whimper as your hands came up to rub almost viciously against your eyes.

Why of all times to loose your cool was it in front of a killer? Granted, he’d helped you and had never treated you poorly outside of trials, but this was beyond mortifying.

Your outburst didn’t phase him, knowing that the survivors already had a stressful enough existence with the trials and not having their own places unlike the killers. Living in a makeshift tent with just the campfire to keep the place lit up wasn’t easy for any of them.

He moved his hand to the top of your head, gently running his hand down it a few times, effectively petting your hair while he let you cry it out.

You instinctively turned into the touch, your body curling in on it’s side while you reached out blinding to grab the hem of his shirt while you tried your hardest to cry quietly.

Content with just letting you take your time, he continued the gentle petting of your hair, taking a small step closer so your arm wasn’t so outstretched.

A low hum left him, intent on soothing you in any way he could.

He’d been a bit off put by your almost venomous refusal of his help at first, but looking down at you as you slowly stopped crying, the hiccups starting and seeing you scrub your sleeve at your face to try and wipe away the tears there.

His other hand moved to stop you from rubbing your face anymore, offering you the pocket square he always had one him.

“No need to dirty your clothes when this is here. It is what it was meant for, after all.”

His encouraging smile was enough to have you taking it with no resistance.

And after you’d dried your face and blown your nose, he helped you sit up, hand lingering at your arms for a moment before he tilted his head.

“I know this is rather unorthodox, but would you like a hug? I believe it would benefit you, and to be completely honest, I wished to comfort you so this whole time.” His eyes were a gentle white now, as he waited patiently for your response.

A light blush took over your face, trying not to feel any smaller than you already felt.

Turning your face away before giving a small nod had him smiling at your own bashfulness.

And that’s how the first hug you’d received after coming to the entity’s realm happened. And there was many more to be had with the doctor, as you had been quick to find out.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad accepting help sometimes.