#and I have to do shit after work w my coworkers tomorrow and will be out late

[grassbreads]

Up way late at night due to reasons and killed a bug in my kitchen that was either an extremely small cockroach or an upsettingly roachlike moth and it’s fucking haunting me

[leadmeastraylittlefairy]

april 😵‍💫

[sweatervest-obsessed]

Unexpected Visitor

Pairing: Spencer Reid x G!n Reader

WC: 788

A/N: A lil Spencer Xmas Blurb while I figure my shit out. Also! I'm imagining older seasons Spencer for this one.

"Hi! I'm, uh, so sorry to bug you but, um, do you know where Spe--Doctor Reid's desk is? Or, really, where D-Doctor Reid is?" .

Derek Morgan had to get his shit together because his jaw almost dropped when you walked in. What was some hot piece of ass doing, dressed like that, looking for Boy Genius.

He jumped up from his chair and strolled over to where you had stopped Garcia, who was just as flabbergasted as he was. "Reid is currently in a meeting sweetheart--may I ask what you, uh, want with him?"

You raised your eyebrows at the 'sweetheart', but smiled anyways. "He was supposed to be home about an hour ago and he wasn't answering his phone, so instead of panicking, because I know what you do for work, I wanted to come in and check before I lost my shit."

"Home?" Garcia squeaked out, still baffafled by how gorgeous you looked. It was like you were sent straight from heaven, a literal vision.

You nodded and tilted your head, slightly confused. "Y-Yeah...I'm sorry why is that---"

"We just didn't know Reid was living with anyone, let alone seeing someone."

"Ah." You nodded. "He's private like that, isn't he." Your smile warmed the two of them, and you shifted the coat from one arm to the other.

"y/n?"

You turned your head towards the back of the bullpen, and Spencer was walking out of Hatch's office. "What are you doing here?"

"Being introduced to your friends and coworkers since you haven't."

Spencer bit the inside of his cheeks and walked over to you both, placing his hand on the small of your back. You felt how tense he was.

"I'm here because our reservation is in twenty minutes and you said you'd be home over an hour ago." You looked at Spencer, whose eyes went a little wide.

"Shit. I-I didn't realize what time it was---"

"I have your suit in the car, and this is why I made the reservation for eight pm, instead of Seven."

"And this is why I love you." Spencer kissed your head and rushed over to his desk, scrambling to grab all of his papers and his bag and his coat and his scarf and his--

"Hi Y/n." Spencer looked up at the mention of your name, pausing in his frantic nature.

"Hi Aaron." You gave him a quick hug, but a bright smile. "How are you?"

"Well." He laughed a little. "I'd be better if we didn't have to work the day before Christmas Eve since I still need to wrap all of Jack's presents still."

"Oh how is Jack!"

"He's doing well. finally starting to enjoy reading, no thanks to you."

You laughed at his joke, all the while Derek and Garcia just shared an incredulous look. How the hell did you know Hotch? Jack?!? Why does Jack's reading habits connect to you--

"Ready sweetheart?" Spencer appeared at your side and you nodded. "It was lovely to see you Aaron. I'll stop by some time tomorrow to drop off Jack's gifts as well as yours. I got it when Spence I and went to Paris last month. I think you'll enjoy it!"

"That's why you weren't here for two weeks?" Penelope's jaw was on the floor. "I didn't take you to be a Parisian man Doctor Reid."

"W-Well, um--"

"It was for my birthday. My choice. I love art and museums so it made sense. Well, it was lovely to meet you all but we have a reservation to get to." You gave them all a quick smile before taking Spencer's hand and walking towards the elevator, your shoes clicking on the floor with every step you took.

"How long have the two of them been together?" Morgan turned to Hotch after you both had gotten in the elevator.

"I think today is their two year anniversary."

"TWO YEARS." Garcia clutched her hypothetical pearls. "How have I not known? How have WE not known?"

"He's private, and...well. You know Y/n."

"No we clearly do not know Hotch."

Hotch gave them a little smirk and a shrug. "Merry Christmas guys. I'll see you on the twenty-seventh."

As Hotch walked away, Garcia and Morgan just stared at one another. "So we're..."

"Going to spend then next ten minutes in my office finding everything out about this mystery person Spencer has been apparently dating for two years?"

"You read my mind mama. A little Christmas snooping never hurt anyone..."

[yoongisleftearring]

I never actually mean it

× in which your coworker is insufferable but not more insufferable than a mean customer

-> pairing: barista!Hyunjin x barista!reader

-> genre: fluff, angst(?), enemies to ?

-> word Count: 0.7k

-> warnings: nothing, just mean customers

-> notes: not sure if this can even be called an imagine it's so short but this was a short story I made for my creative writing class that I wrote with hj in mind (I literally called his character Sam) so i hope you enjoy :)

Golden rays of light embraced the cafe; you had always loved how peaceful it was at this time before the red sign that hung on the door was flipped, welcoming those who walked past the quiet coffee shop. You hummed quietly to yourself as you emptied the beans into the hopper, the sound filling the cafe as well as the warm aroma of the coffee.

The bell on the door rang out, interrupting the flow of beans, causing you to jump and spill a few.

“No need to panic, I’m here now,” the man sang out, his long brown hair pulled back into a half ponytail, wisps falling out to frame his face. His smile was wide, dimples showing.

You scowled.

“You’re late.”

“By like five minutes,” he scoffed, walking past the annoyed barista to get to the small staffroom snuggled behind the bar. “Loosen up,” he muttered as he slipped past. You rolled your eyes. What a dick. 

This would be a long day.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

The bar was small. Too small.

“Can you move? I need cream.” He asked but didn’t look for an answer before he pulled open the fridge door, which was inconveniently placed just below the coffee machine where you worked.

“Ever heard of manners?” Your eyes dropped down to his cream apron, which was slightly discoloured now thanks to the countless coffee stains. He managed to remember his name badge. ‘Hyunjin’ was written messily on the badge, and you wondered if customers could even make out what it said.

“No, what's that?” He smiled flippantly.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“About time you realised.”

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

The bright golden rays started to dim, and streaks of orange and pink decorated the wooden tables of the cafe as they tried their best to penetrate the white polyester blinds covering the windows' top half. Artificial light filled the places that the sun couldn’t, but they were a warm white, dim enough not to drown out the natural rays.

“That looks like shit,” he voiced unnecessarily, staring down at the swirls of white that joined together to create something that looked more like a mushroom cloud than a heart. Or maybe something else. Your cheeks burned as you looked down at the coffee, which even you could admit looked a bit shit, if not slightly phallic.

“Oh god,” you groaned. Hyunjin let out a loud laugh. You felt your cheeks burn brighter. “Maybe if you weren’t constantly staring at me like a creep, I wouldn’t shake so much.”

“I think you just need to accept that you’re no good at latte art.”

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

The sun's warm rays had cooled down, a white haze flooding in from the world outside, barely doing anything to light up the tables inside. The colour reminded you that it was almost time to go home. Tomorrow you would be back, but thank god Hyunjin had gotten the day off after grovelling to your boss the day before.

“What the fuck did you do?” A man spat, making your eyes widen, and Hyunjin glanced in your direction from where he stood, not even three feet away.

A lid sat on the floor behind the bar. He reached for the tissues that sat in a box before him, using them to wipe his sleeve.

“I’m so sorry, sir. I’ll get you a-”

“Don’t bother. You’ve done enough.”

“Is everything okay here, sir?”

“Are you the man in charge?”

He hesitates. “Yes.”

“Well, I suggest firing this fucking bitch because she’ll drive every one of your customers away!” He boomed, his face becoming dark red.

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

He scoffs, spit flying from between his lips.

“Oh, I see what’s going on here.” His eyes were dark as he looked between the two baristas. “Good fucking luck with her,” he laughed spitefully before leaving the shop, the bell signalling his exit. Once you heard that chime, you turned and walked swiftly to the staffroom.

“I’m sorry, just a moment.” The waiting customer smiled politely, seemingly unbothered with the delay.

Hyunjin pushed the door open only to be met with the sight of you crouched over, sobbing.

“I’m sorry.”

“What?”

“You know I never actually mean it, right?” Your eyes are red when you look up at him. “You’re the best damn latte artist in this mall, okay?”

[alexiela73]

Can i have headcannons for mccree, hanzo, and blackwatch genji reacting to their trans (boy) kind getting bullied (in like a stalking ish way) and what they would do ? (Srry jcncn ik thats rly specific ive had a uh bad week if ya get me 😅)

If someone is stalking you, I am between call the police or go Rapunzel on his ass with a frying pan and see what he thinks then.

Also, was gonna post tomorrow but decided I couldn't wait.

McCree:

Something started to bother you a few weeks ago

No matter how many times he asked you about it, you'd brush it off and say it was nothing or that he was imagining it

Except, he knew he wasn't. Jesse KNEW you, possibly too well

There was something off. You weren't as...happy, anymore. You seemed to look over your shoulder more often, and you didn't look excited about going to work anymore

Jesse would hold you at night and could feel you were still awake, hours after having said goodnight, and once even felt your tears on his shirt

One day, Jesse brought you lunch at work. He hadn't even made it into the store fully yet when he spotted you, and you looked so uncomfortable

Standing maybe barely a foot from you was a taller man leaning on the counter, almost looming over you. Jesse could see he was talking to you, and there was a twisted smile on his face as whatever he was saying

When you moved away, he just got right back up in your space and Jesse could see the tears shimmering in your eyes from there

Beyond pissed, Jesse put on the most easy going smile, walked over and slammed down his metal hand on the counter. "Hey darlin'," he said, giving you a wink. "How's my boy doing today?"

Startled to see your boyfriend, you immediately stepped back again from what Jesse now saw was your coworker. The coworker looked just as surprised, immediately followed by disgust

"She's your girlfriend, huh?" he asked, looking down at you.

"He is my boyfriend," Jesse emphasized, gritting his teeth. "And ya, I'mma pretty lucky fella to have y/n. He's an incredible guy. Who're you, by the way?" he asked, pulling out one of his cigars and lighting it in the store.

You started to open your mouth to stop him, but he waved you off, taking your hand and pulling you from behind the counter to nestle against his side. Perhaps it was a little inappropriate, but you knew Jesse was just protecting you.

The guy clearly wasn't getting the hint. "She's obviously a girl, man. I don't know how she has you fooled, but I can see her tits through that shirt-"

"Who on earth is Joe hiring these days?" Jesse asked you. "Must be desperate to be pullin' chumps like this one in."

"The fuck did you say to me?" the guy started, moving in from behind the counter.

The worker had no time to react, as Jesse grabbed the man and suddenly flipped him on his back beside the register. The man started to yell, but Jesse had taken a long drag of his cigar- and now shoved it into the guys gaping maw, cowing his mouth with his bionic hand.

The guy started to scream, muffled by Jesse and you immediately grabbed Jesse's arm.

"Jesse," you whispered frantically. "Stop it, please. This guy isn't worth it-"

"No," he agreed, "but you are. Now, look here," he drawled, leaning down so his face was near the mans. "You ever get in his space again, ever shit on him again like that or if I ever, ever see him shed another tear because of your sorry ass, I'll cut your tongue out and shove it up that ass of yours. Got it? And trust me, kid- jail couldn't stop me."

When he let go, the guy rolled over and choked out the cigar, ashes and drops of blood.

"Did you have to be that rough?" you whispered, but pressed your face into his neck, pressing a kiss to his skin gently.

"Darlin'-" Jesse shook his head and led you out for your break.

Hanzo

You told Hanzo that you had been receiving some distressing emails as of late

You volunteered with a few different organizations, and you hadn't had any issues with anyone regarding you being trans, but clearly someone was bothered by it

It wouldn't have concerned you, but other then vague threats and rather nasty messages, there were some pictures sent to you as well

Some included you walking down the road on your day off, others were of you at work- you could see whoever is was had taken pictures of you at your main work and one of your volunteer groups.

Hanzo was understandably upset by this

"So someone is following you around and threatening you?" he had said, his lips pulled tight. "I see. Why don't you take one of the dragons with you to your groups- preferably Ramen. Udon is far too nosey," he said dismissively.

"I...no, that's okay. If I react to it, then this guy will get the satisfaction of knowing he's got me all bothered," you said, rubbing your chin before scritching Udons cheeks as he rolled onto your lap.

"It is bothering you, and if nothing else, its bothering me. If these aren't empty words, then I'd never forgive myself for doing nothing," he'd said.

Over the next few days, Ramen would go with you everywhere, usually in your bag. On the fifth day, Hanzo walked over to your main office at so-and-so company, pushing a man in front of him.

You recognized the man as a volunteer at the shelter. The noodles were on either side of them, hissing and snapping at the man like angry cats and batting at his legs.

"This is the man that has been stalking you and spewing those vile things about your manhood," Hanzo said, holding a camera- it looked expensive too.

He crushed it in his hand as if it were made of paper, causing the man to sputter angrily, before dropping it and immediately the two dragons pounced and started burning and batting it around.

"Really? Why? You seemed so nice-" you started to say, but the man spat at your feet.

"God made you a woman and you think you can change his will?" he snarled, making Hanzo roll his eyes.

A sharp shake made the man hiss, and you had no idea what bound his hands behind his back. "You will speak when I say you can, pathetic fool," Hanzo growled. "We'll be going to the police with this and getting a restraining order. I've had enough of this whelp and his presence."

Sighing, you knew Hanzo was right. Letting the man go would likely just cause further problems down the road.

"Okay. Just let me send an email saying I'm done early for the day," you said, before leaning over and to the mans disgust, you pecked Hanzo on the lips. "Thanks, baby."

Hanzo reached up, cupping your chin and swiping his thumb over your bottom lip. "Always," he said softly.

Blackwatch Genji

The person who started bullying you was one of the recruits

Sadly, it was someone you actually worked really well with, until he saw you changing in the mens room and saw your binder

Since then, it has been snarky comments, circulating whispers and some of the people who you did your workouts with stopped talking to you

It even turned to school based bullying- shoulder checks, getting tripped, your clothes getting stolen

This went on for a total of two weeks, because thats exactly how long your boyfriend was away on a mission

No one knew that you two were dating- Genji was cold to most, very distant, and was usually considered harsh. Plus, he was often in charge of the recruits work outs and training regimes, so it seemed like a bad idea to let people know the two of you were intimate

You had no idea that Genji was home that day, back at base. He'd decided to come and visit the recuits- he watched as McCree put you all through the works, not fully paying attention as he was looking at some cowboy magazine

Genji saw the moment you were tripped while doing the 20 km run- he saw exactly who did it and the way some of them snickered. Part of him wanted to come help you up, but he refrained

He asked McCree if he'd noticed any shift in behavior amongst the ranks, and to his surprise, McCree put down the magazine and looked much more serious

"I have. Some of the guys found out about y/n being trans and I guess it didn't sit well with them. Almost everyone at camp knows now, and he often sits alone. I tried talkin' to the brats, but they won't take me seriously and Reyes is still away," he grunts, rubbing his chin. Genji didn't often see him bothered like this.

The rage he felt was unexplainable.

You didn't see him, but you were able to get out of the locker room before the other guys were done with their routine. It was a bad day overall, and you needed to get to the mess hall to start dinner, as it was your turn tonight.

When the men were showering and changing, Genji slipped in and locked the door

The men were shocked- Genji had never entered the mens change room. He often referred to the idea being akin to changing with a herd of sloppy pigs.

The look in his eyes though- they'd only seen it on missions. It was bloodthirsty

"McCree tells me you all have an issue with y/n," he said, his voice low and dangerous.

One of the guys, the one who'd started the whole thing, had the audacity to laugh. "Y/n is actually a woman," he said. "Pretending to be a guy. Can you believe it? I can't believe they let her change in here with us. You wouldn't believe what its been like-"

Genji grabbed him by the throat, slamming him into a locker so hard the frame bent, and snatched the mans tongue. He started choking, and some of the guys backed further away, too scared to interfere.

Genji's reputation as to what happened to those who angered him was well known.

"You filthy bastard," Genji said, tilting his head, eyes glinting crimson. "It's like you want to die, don't you? I should cut out your tongue- it'd be easy," he said.

So quickly did the hand on the guys throat become his elbow pressing down on his airway, and something sharp pricked against the mans tongue, drawing blood.

"Should I? Cut out your tongue?"Genji asked, tilting his head.

There was silence, the recruit struggling to breathe. The minutes stretched, before finally Genji let go.

The man slid to the ground, gasping hard, a drip of blood on his chin.

When he looked at them all, Genji lifted his blade and slowly ran his finger down it. "The next time one of you touches him. Looks at him. So much as thinks about him like that again...I will kill you. I'll kill all of you and I won't hesitate...and no one will stop me," he said.

When he left, Genji went straight to you. He had no doubt everyone believed him.

When he found you, Genji embraced you and kissed the top of your head. "I love you," he had said low in your ear. "As you are."

Not knowing what he meant, you just hugged him tighter, sighing softly. "I love you too, Genji. Please don't leave again without me."

[magnoliamyrrh]

im genuinely so pissed at one of my cw attitude now that i had such a rough day and i Still did my work and Im Still getting my shit done + an extra resident on a floor. im out here after being in so much pain i couldnt bloody speak still doing things and helping coworkers

and girly had someone do 3 of the residents on her floor for 2+ days, wouldnt answer an emergency, wouldnt answer calls for help so it felt like we worked in 2 people, and was just sitting on her ass on her phone. yesterday she literally didnt have the balls to tell me to do her second resident again so she just took 4838392 hours to take her break miandering around while me and my other cw were like????? tf???? and then ive been told she was laughing abt it in her language 💀💀💀

and then she gets pissy when i tell her listen ill just do your floor tomorrow bc im not okay with working my floor + two of the hardest on yours + another at least one on another floor (also while she wont help us w anything except on the 383939 try on the radio and wont reply until front desk and i are begging for her to). and then she takes today off of work just bc shes being pissy

............ all i want is for u to carry your weight and do your work girl. we are doing most of the residents on ur floor bc u cant manage despite being here for forever. fucking Help Us Get Your Ass Up holllllyyy shit. if i can work while in so much pain im losing my mind you can get off of your fucking phone

[milkeyrainbow]

Why can’t I just ask for help, a talk about how fucked my thoughts are…

Why my face brightens up and that fucking smile won’t come off each time I’m asked if I’m alright I automatically say “ Always and it’s wonderful “ while tightening my fists inside my pockets distracting my head from my scars that won’t stop itching and reminding me how much my skin carves more and it might be wonderful if I feed it my blood…

WHY IT TAKES HOURS TO GET MYSELF TOGETHER AFTER MENTAL BREAKDOWN AND DAYS OF GUILT, DISAPPOINTMENT, SELF DISGUST THEN ANGER TILL I RAGE HARMING AND START A CIRCLE OF ALIENATION.

And when it hits at work or in public, I might just… disappear for a moment and be back within blink of an eye👁️ no pain, no thoughts, no regrets, just more LIES AND THAT FAKE HAPPINESS AND PLAY PRETENDING THAT I CARE ABOUT EVERYONE AROUND… So I can burn down mentally, drain myself from every little positivity hidden inside me, come back home hoping that it’s the last trip of my life…

Realise what I’ve done to myself; just a little scratch to ground my thoughts and irritating itching, will be gone by tomorrow…- It won’t be gone, because it wasn’t just a “scratch” never was, never will be, just dirty, deep, trench dug deep under my skin that should be cleaned and stitched up or at least sealed tightly…

And the circle is closing… How could I let it happen? Why didn’t I just tell someone I’m not fine? I’m sure it was just a mark but.. I don’t even know anymore…

Now I’m sitting on the bathroom floor gazing into nothing, I hear the whispers, random conversation between people I care about, I know… I’m alone, nobody knows about my pretty little shiny mask I just wore crashing and falling into pieces… “ I forgot my prescription pills again… Well it ain’t helping shit” thinking that maybe the voices ain’t real but they’re right, I know- I am a fucking monster, I’m a lier, I’m useless, waste of air, a piece of flesh with no soul, IM NEVER ENOUGH, that’s why my father died, my grandparents, my friends, my dog- the only sunshine I’ve had left my childhood loyal friend, baby, reason I’m alive… GONE… I should join them… NO I SHOULD BREATHE AND GET THESE FUCKING PILLS all of them at once JUST ONE PLEASE ye one for each voice that’s getting louder and one for each death you caused I CANT BREATH I CANT THINK ITS TOO LOUD!

It’s cold I’m shivering on a bathroom floor, I’m naked and there’s blood all over me, my head hurts, I need something for that headache, I need to take pills and iron tablets… I don’t want to look, I don’t want to know, just lukewarm bubble bath… it burns, I don’t care anymore, I failed myself again, the weight and sick fear against myself crushes me down, I won’t be able to wash it off, NHS… well… pills might calm down vocal hallucinations but won’t calm down my thoughts and physical sickness I’ll carry with me for the next couple of weeks…antipsychotics and sleeping tablets are addictive so I’ve been told to go for a evening walk before going to bed *Qualified staff* NHS and my doctors didn’t stand even close to “qualified people” but I’ll take an advice…

And here I am, on the edge of a trespass bridge above M25, smoking cigarette and fantasising about death, the “ easy way out” I feel it, I’m waiting for that slight impulse that will take me to nothingness. TODAY IS THE DAY FUCK THAT SHIT!

“RAINBOW!” I hear my coworker in a distance, it has to be a pisstake mate! “ Are you alright? What are you doing here?” Annoying voice continues like a painful static in your brain. “Always, wonderful! Living the dream, ain’t mine but still, having evening walk advised, fresh air fresh mind, getting ready for tomorrow, it’s Monday innit” I feel my insides collapse, turning my stomach upside down each time I hear those words my mouth spits out without any consent… I’m scared, I don’t want to go through that again… If there’s God please have mercy…. My eyes are filling up with a single teardrop it managed to produce in the past two months as I walk off the trespass next to my colleague- She talks about some sort of inspection and a visit from higher management. I hear my voice, I can’t distinguish the words… I’m laughing and jumping from excitement… it feel like a movie but instead of being cosy and munching popcorn I’m hyperventilating and whining silently while shattered, sharp pieces of the mask that broke in the bathroom last night comes back piece by piece piercing violently my pale face, like little lightweight, mist-like raindrops when falling on your face in November evening as you gaze into the universe admiring its creations before the dark clouds will take it all away from you and the darkness will embrace you promising the sunlight in the morning…

My raindrops are made from glass and pins and razor blades, and it’s not like a mist, more like heavy rainstorm hitting your face as you speed 200m/ph with nothing protecting you from cruelty and reality of human trauma, mental illnesses, loneliness, worst fears, helplessness and lack of empathy and understanding… fear of rejection… No reason that keeps you alive, reason I’ve been looking for every single day, one point proving I me there is something… Everything loses its meaning, once your skin and flesh had turn into nothing and all the pieces that caused you so much pain drill into your skull… it turns into a new face, your one doesn’t matter anymore, nobody seen the real face why would they care, all THEY know is that shining smile, bright face that cares only about others, always happy and ready to cheer everyone around up! THIS IS THE FACE YOU DREAMT ABOUT! CONGRATULATIONS NOW EVERYONE KNOW YOU AS SOMEBODY THAT YOU WILL NEVER BE! IT WILL AFFECT YOUR ACTIONS TOO!

MAKE FRIENDS YOU WONT LIKE, GOING CLUBS YOU HATE, DRINKING TEQUILA! HAVING FUN, TAKE FUCK TONNES OF DRUGS AND SIGN UP FOR SHIT YOU WILL NEVER GO!

Sounds nice… it used to be helpful, most of the time it was fun, then it just went downhill, putting the mask on and taking it off hurts more and more, so you decide to leave it on, so it takes control over your body, it melts into one - The Monster that will slowly kill you, destroy your body, relationships, strong bonds you’ve been creating with family and childhood friends, it will push away people you love most and become nobody, It turns you into a cutting board, knife holder and tear keeper for anyone you meet. It will make fun of your own trauma and insecurities until it will wear off and eventually the mask will fall off your face and break into a bilion pieces and turn into a shotgun shell that will blow your face off twice as much as in the beginning, but until it will you’re left alone, bleeding out ashamed, scared and filled with frustration real YOU leaving you on your own with you people you don’t know in the body you don’t recognise anymore… it will wait for the annihilation of your own being… It will wait until you won’t be able to live your own live and proceed with eternal sleep hopefully or you will try to retrieve what once was yours, family, friends, old habits, just so it can come back again, causing more damage, so you will give up…

Time is verifying your choice slowly… DONT LET IT USE YOU AS OLD TAPE IN A LOOP, JUST LIKE UT DID TO ME AND AGAIN AND AGAIN… but each time I’m back to this monsters live I care less, I have no purpose in my life I want to die, but I won’t let my monster be, I will suffer as long as THAT suffers, I guess we both waiting for the moment where the body can’t handle no more and stops its function and will get buried with or without the mask on…

THIS IS THE WAR WITH MYSELF…

I don’t even know if all that make any sense I couldn’t stop writing, the whispers created a white noise and ye, this is how I feel and struggle with, English is not my first language but since I’m living in the uk it just comes and goes and… why the fuck am I writing it ? Nobody fucking cares, I’m laying in my bed isolated, no fucking intention to crawl out of it… is too loud, I need to hide my arms till it will heal up… and I don’t want that fucking thing back, I just want to be me, fucking rotting in bed no sleep no food just me myself and I and books and that fucking phone finally made something useful I don’t answer the text or calls, I’m talking with …. Nevermind nobody will ever fucking read it xd

Jebać stare baby prądem i czcić Boga Hideo KOJIMA amen 🙏🏻

Zagrałabym w death stranding brakuje 4 prepersow na full pizde i będę miała max, wszystko wbite, każdy zadowolony.

W tedy zacznę ja od początku na super hard.

Pozdrawiam… a chuj w sumie nie mam kogo NARTY SANKI DPIERDALAM.

[mushroom-for-art]

I am controlled by the movie au I swear XD sorry @oogaboogaspookyman I made ur monochrome boi a shy nervie boi (I nearly tried to at monochrome bastard there before going wait no XD that's wrong) Meanwhile May is big autistic.

Date?

The monochrome Mewtwo stood uncertainly at the door of his coworkers trailer, he didn't know why he was so nervous I mean he'd come here plenty of times before to fetch her for scenes, just to hang out and have their treat girl nights, to work out revenge plans, to watch movies together I mean it was fine he'd done this before he could do it again.

He raised his hand to knock before pulling it away pacing outside the front of her door, but this time it was different. It wasn't like a hang out, this time, well, he had romantic intentions. He wondered if he should not do it this way, just slip her a note discreetly, who was he to encroach on her personal space with his heart in his hand so to speak. That's not fair to her! And he didn't even know if she liked him, she was very confusing after all. She did like men supposedly and she wasn't as playful or jokey with any other male coworkers.

His heart fluttered thinking about how she leans into him when they walk together brushing against him, how she'd hold his arm though sometimes to menace him and make his life difficult. How she would grab his hands during behind the scenes movie interviews and wave their hands about, how when she laughs she leans into him hiding her face in him as she giggled and snorted. Or how when previewing their latest horror movie together she curled up into his side feeling comforted and safe squeezed against him while also asking what was happening despite being petrified of horrors, was a bit silly in a charming way, played a lead role in a horror movie and yet couldn't actually watch the actual horror.

He took a deep breath in and exhaled slowly, he did like her, she was exciting and charming and a breathtakingly refreshing change to the usual misery of show business. He sighed shortly, shaking off his hands and moved back to her door knocking softly.

"One momentooo~" Her singsong voice came as he heard her shuffle about towards the door, the lock clicked and opened and, her face was bright purple covered in some sort of spa mask, fuck, she must have been having a relax day with Matt, shit fuck stupid. He froze up as he stared at her as she looked back taking a moment to look confused before beaming at him.

"Hey! We were just doing face masks! Do you wanna join?!" Her tone was excited and easy and it breathed air back into his lungs as his shoulders relaxed.

"Um, I'd love to but I'm afraid I can't stay, May, I, was wondering if you'd. Well you can say no of course but it'd be nice if you'd like to accompany me tomorrow, I'd, like to go out together somewhere."

May blinked at him and smiled saying, "like out to town? You read my mind, I've been getting bored of being stuffed in here with movie scenes."

"Hey can I come?" Matt hollered from somewhere in the trailer, "oh that'd be so fun us three all going out together." She was beaming, smiling in excitement. He bit his inner lip, save her happiness and lose the date or save date and ruin her joy? God he hated these textbook drama misunderstandings, and he knew she did too. He debated, sighing softly.

"Well, um."

He struggled, why did he even start the sentence when he should've said yes. May seemed to notice his hesitation stepping down the step from her trailer door saying gently to him, "is that okay?" He met her eye and looked away.

"I, was kind of, I was hoping. Sorry let me start over, um."

He tried to think of a way of saying he wanted it to be a date with just them two without sounding like a jerk, he had no issue with Matt he just, didn't want him there. Like at all. He swallowed his concern knowing getting it out was the best course of action and he can deal with the fall out then before he lost his nerve and ended up missing his chance.

"A date. I was. Would you like, to go out together on a date, uh just us two, no Matt."

May blinked again, seeming surprised and he was ready for the earth to swallow him up whole.

"GOD DAMN MOTHER FUCKING BITCH!" Matts voice could be heard yelling from the inside, "YOU CUNT." May laughed awkwardly softly saying "uh I should, check with the council." He could feel his face heating up in embarrassment ready to just leave when she went inside, she touched his arm softly as she turned giving him a smile and gently squeezing his arm, "but, I think a date would be nice," her smile was genuine he could tell, she always bit her bottom lip showing parts of her front teeth in her bashful genuine smile. She let go of his arm stepping up into the trailer.

"WHAT THE FUCKS YOUR PROBLEM MATTY LAD?!" She unceremoniously yelled back at her brother. "YOU FUCKING KNOW WHAT YOU CRUSH STEALING LEMON WHORE! UNFUCKING BELIEVABLE. YOU BETTER SAY YES SINCE CLEARLY /I'M/ NOT GETTING ANY OF THAT!!"

May rolled her eyes backwards tilting her head back and smiling at monochrome before leaning back in to shout, "I WOULD IF YOU GAVE ME A FUCKING CHANCE SO SHUT YOUR FUCKING YAP!" She leant back away standing in the door frame before playfully jumping down the steps to be stood in front of monochrome once more who smiled shyly. "Council says it should be fine, my manager can go suck an egg if she wants me." Giving him a bold grin as he snorted softly, somewhat embarrassed and shy now he'd gone and done it and successfully bagged a date.

"Well! I will, come collect you tomorrow, uh early, does 8 sound good?"

She smiled and nodded saying "8 sounds fine, gives us the whoooole day together." He smiled bashfully at the thought as she held his hands and playfully leant back using him as support to emphasize her speaking, he could tell she was somewhat deflecting through humorous actions but he figured she may have just been shy, the wagging of her tail confirming his internal suspicions.

"I'll let you enjoy your night then, and I'll come here to collect you tomorrow for our date."

It sounded strange saying those words but it also felt weirdly nice. She smiled as she stood properly still holding his hands, tail still wagging. "Yea, yea, I, I'm excited for it, guess I'll take this time to pamper myself up all prutty for you." Her tone was genuine before falling into shy humor as she squeezed his hands fidgeting slightly with nerves and energy. He smiled softly bring her hands up to his mouth kissing her knuckles softly.

"You're already prutty, even with a bright purple face, but I'll bid you goodnight."

He could see her tail wagging furiously and in honesty he was having to concentrate quite hard to not wag his as he released her hands sensing she was getting a bit overstimulated as he bowed turned and quickly left the tip of his tail flicking rapidly like a rattlesnake.

As he walked away he heard her retreat back into her trailer, and the sound of her softly squeal screaming, hopefully in joy.

—————

"A DATE ! HE ASKED! ME! DATE! EH !" May squealed in overstimulated glee and confusion bouncing on the spot and flapping her arms about to get all the energy static and wiggles out of herself at the sheer, just sheerness of the situation. Matt lounged watching her with what could only be described as resting bitch face.

"I mean we're always bantering! And like! He's nice! He's always really friendly! And encouraging in scenes or how he comforts me during horror previews of our movies! And like! He's cool! Like! He's! And he's my friend, holy shit he does actually see me as a friend as well, MORE THAN in fact," she paced and did a little hop. "What the fuck?! Holy fuck, oh my god I have nothing good to wear oh christ he's gonna be so disappointed, he's gonna realise I'm a horrid little gremlin aahh shit fuck. Ah" she paced and jumped and ranted and raved, getting out her emotions and processing what happened and what it meant and what other things meant as they were processed with new context.

"Oh my god he was flirting!! Aaaah! I am fucking stupid! Fuck. OH HE PROBABLY THOUGHT I WAS FLIRTING!! Oh he's going to realize I'm so stupid and dense and crackers I dont get socializing," she wailed, waving and swaying her body before having to lie down on the floor on her back to preserve her face mask for much needed floor time as Matt continued to watch.

"Eh he's known you this long I think he realizes all this by now." Matt crunched into a pickle, "I mean he probably likes that your crackers." He nudged her lightly with his foot. "You're fine, I fucking hate you. But you're fine. I think actually this could be good for you, you haven't dated before it's a good-"

"OH GOD I'VE NEVER DATED BEFOREEEEEE!!!" May wailed from the floor as Matts expression fell flat.

"God you're fucking useless."

[ambersky0319]

Im in a weird limbo

Im really tired bc i did a lot today (for context i work in a deli). I..

Cleaned and prepped slicers as soon as i came in cause opening messed it up

Put out new items on the sales floor

Put items out on our counter displays & documented what we did and did not have so my manager knew what to order

Made a salad

Made subs

Had to take an order on the phone which everyone struggles to hear on but I especially struggle bc I cant hear shit on phones

Helped customers at the meat, salad, and hot plates (and consoled customers who were annoyed about our hot plate not having anything bc we dont have a cook)

Note some customers ask for multiple things. Sometimes each item a customer wants needs we need to open a new one. There will be lines. We were down 1 of 2 slicers so other employees could not help

Helped unpack containers, refill a scale's paper, and organize things

It was an 8 hour shift and I got a 20 min break. It was an early shift. I've been up since 5am.

One of my coworkers was injured recently. He is Not our cook but was trying to figure stuff out since our ACTUAL cook didnt show up (again). A different coworker came in late. ANOTHER coworker (this one a cook) was supposed to come in at a certain time so the last minute cook (that was not injured coworker, and he came in pretty late anyway but he also wasnt scheduled today) could go on break and also so we could kinda catch up on things didnt show up at that time (idek if she did come in)

However, I also feel super energized bc I...

Worked on some concepts for YSE during my break

Injured coworker & last minute cook are people I really like chatting with while working - injured coworker at the end of our shift helped finish subs while I helped customers

Customers were all really nice - some really made my day!

A guy's kid was really excited over some ham.

Another guy, when I realized I fucked up which meat I was supposed to be slicing for him, ended up just rolling w it and bought a pound of it instead (after sampling and calling his wife lol).

An older lady wanted a specific salad that we were practically out of on the counter, but we had it in the back so I made some more of it and when I was done she asked where my manager was; injured coworker asked why and she said she wanted to tell my manager how great I was

Manager keeps letting me know that for my first job I'm doing really well and that she asks me to do a lot bc I've done good on practically every task AND I can adapt pretty quickly

Despite being 8 hours it went by SUPER quickly (coming back from a 20 minute break my coworkers are always like "wait you went on break already?" THATS how fast it feels)

Despite all the tasks bc it went by so quickly it feels like I didn't actually do a lot

So yeah

weird energy limbo

and i gotta repeat it all tomorrow and sunday 🙃

[drippingwetworld]

hey fellow dykes and lesbians , who wants to hear about my agenda for this next week ? im feeling a personal post

today - bake cupcakes and muffins that one of my neighbors ordered for her coworkers retirement party! I found out her coworker is one of the local bus drivers here and has been for 20 years. I hope he likes my cupcakes. I love being a bakery butch.

tomorrow - drop off said cupcakes to my neighbor early in the morning, my wife is gonna help me bc I can’t really do that trek across this giant apartment complex. Psychiatrist appointment too, I really don’t like this current psych and I have to find a new one so I am not excited. Then working on finishing up my inventory for an event I’m vending this weekend . Hopefully I can pull 80-100 bucks to cover some stuff I need.

Friday - make price tags and stuff for table. Bake another batch of cupcakes for the neighbors’ daughter’s 10th bday party. Pack a little bit. My wife is off so she’ll probably pack a bunch and ill be less stressed.

Saturday - neighbor is picking up daughter’s cupcakes at 9:30a. 11a-5p vending at this lil zine fest on the state university campus downtown with my sweetie! Hoping that she and I both do well. Avi (wife) is staying home to pack. I’m gonna come home after that, probably just crash out.

Sunday - PACK PACK PACK PACK PACK :(

Monday - PACKING A G A I N

Tuesday - appt. w/ primary care , packing

Wednesday - woah! Packing!

Thursday - sign lease , officially moving

Friday / Saturday - my sweetie’s wonderful wife is gonna help with a haul of big stuff to my new place. Not sure which day yet. Gonna get a group of pals together and cook them a delicious meal and some treats to help me and avi move our shit bc im too sick to lift stuff over 10 pounds anymore :(

I’m so stoked to be settled

[cherrygarden]

girls will say they're fine then listen to their sad playlist and fantasise about their death the second something bad happens

[wabblebees]

.

[patd--phan]

Wanna Be Yours

Pairing: Dadsbestfriend! Bucky (mid/late 40s) x reader (in early/mid twenties)

Summary: Y/N surprises bucky on a business trip and he promises to be hers.

Warnings: SMUTTY stuff (18+ only pleasee), unprotected sex, creampie, oral sex (m receiving), riding, teasing, significant age gap, reader takes charge, “Doll/sweets/baby/sweetheart”, some cute ass shit at the beginning and end tho

WC: about 3K im sorry I was really H*rny yesterday and I was unable to do anything about it as i was stuck in the car all damn day

Note: So I was really h*rny yesterday and this happened lol I’m sorry. Loosely based on the song wanna be yours-arctic monkeys. Also this will probably be the only smut I ever write bc I don’t wanna become an 18+ blog or make anyone uncomfortable (not that 18+ blogs are bad tho lemme set that straight, most of my fav blogs are)

PS thank you for the love on my first ever fic with Peter Parker x reader, it made me so happy that ppl didn’t think I suck lol ( and i guess i lied saying i would probably never write another one shot lol)

You do NOT have my permission to repost this anywhere, I will come for u if you plagiarize ok bye

It was no secret that Bucky liked to be in charge in the bedroom, and you had absolutely no problem with that. After all, he was older and more experienced; he knew how to make your body sing. But this week you were craving something a little different. Bucky had been away on a business trip all weekend and you really missed him, not just the sex (but I mean…) but just cuddling and talking to him about your day; you were feeling clingy. You decide to text bucky even though you knew he couldn’t answer right away because he was currently in a meeting.

Y/N: I mis youu :( when will you be back tomorrow?

You just wandered around your apartment for the next 20 minutes, casually checking your phone about every 30 seconds just in case bucky was able to sneak in a text. He finally replied after 30 minutes, right as his meeting was ending at 3.

Bucky: Hey doll, I miss you too <3

Bucky: unfortunately one of the investors this morning had to push their meeting to late tomorrow afternoon, so I’m not gonna be home until very late tomorrow night :(

Y/N: dammit :(

Y/N: well good luck at the pitch meeting tomorrow, I love and miss you <3

Bucky: don’t gimme that pout I know your making doll, ill see you tonight on facetime! :)

Y/N: haha u know me so well, and yes you’ll see me tonight ;) (but I still miss u)

Bucky: I know doll I hate it too, see you tonight. Love you <3

Y/n: love you too <3

You didn’t know if you could go until late Monday without seeing bucky. As you laid on the couch smiling sadly about missing your love, an idea popped into your head. He was only two and a half hours away, and he wouldn’t be back at his hotel for another 4 hours at least. Fuck it, you were gonna go drive to his hotel and surprise him. You couldn’t be away so long, you felt super clingy this weekend and you needed to be on top of with him.

You quickly ran around your apartment, packing an overnight bag and you saw the package that arrived earlier on your floor that you completely forgot about because you couldn’t stop thinking of Bucky. You remembered its contents e(a completely evil lingerie set) and threw it in the bag with a smirk on your face.

The drive to Bucky’s hotel felt like forever and you had to remind yourself to stop speeding because you were so excited. When you finally got to his hotel, you had to convince the manager to give you a key to his room, proving that you were the man’s girlfriend with several pictures on your phone which was slightly embarrassing because in almost every picture, at least one of you was half-naked. Worth it. You thought. When you arrived in his room you quickly went into the bathroom to change into a little black dress (with a surprise underneath). Then as you were sitting on his bed waiting for him, you realized it would still be a while before he would get back, so you decided to tidy up his things, packing his clothes and organizing his suitcase. Pleased with your work, you sat back down on the bed and looked at your phone for a while. You finally got pulled out of your Instagram daze when you heard Bucky’s voice in the hallway laughing at something a coworker said. You quickly threw your phone on the dresser, straightened up you dress, and sat at the edge of the bed with a huge smile on your face, giddy to surprise him.

As he turned the doorknob he was still looking behind him talking to the man. When he finally said goodbye and turned his head around, his eyebrows raised up and his jaw dropped, which was quickly replaced with a smile even larger than yours.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, running towards you and throwing his briefcase on the floor.

He picked you up in a tight hug and you squealed, legs immediately wrapping around his waist.

“I told you you’d see me tonight!” you said, still clung to him like a koala.

“W-what?” He replied, still in shock. Letting your legs fall back to the floor.

“I just missed you too much” you shrugged.

If any human could embody “heart eyes” it was Bucky at that moment- he’s such a softie for you. He pulled your face towards him and gave you one of the most loving kisses you’ve ever had in your life. You were expecting it to be passionate and rough, but it was soft, delicate and loving, and your heart melted into a puddle. After your lips parted, you gazed into each other’s eyes before being pulled up in another tight hug. You giggled and wrapped your legs around him again.

“I guess you missed me too huh?” you laughed.

“Oh doll, you have no idea.”

You wrapped your hands in his hair, massaging his neck and he moaned loudly.

“Mm, that feels nice.” He hummed.

“You tired baby?” you asked, he seemed like he needed some TLC (and you were ready to give it to him).

“I am so exhausted.” He replied, making you frown behind his back.

You slowly slid down his body, back onto your feet again, and kept massaging his head. He looked at you lovingly before looking around his hotel room, his eyebrows pulled in confusion.

“Did you clean up in here?”

“Yep, while I was waiting for ya,” you replied, smiling.

His whole face softened.

“Oh, I really don’t deserve you doll.” Making you smile and shake your head.

“Oh yes you do.” You replied making him smile and his heart flutter in his chest.

He pulled you in for another kiss, this one with more fire and longing in it than the last one. His large hands grabbed you ass to pull you closer to him and you moaned into the kiss. You pressed your body against him even tighter and ran your hands through his hair making him moan. You could feel his pants tent start to grow against you and you smirked and moved you lips down to the side of his neck making him groan.

You pull back and look at him, hard and eyes half lidded, it turns you on so much you feel your panties dampening.

“Hey Buck?” you whisper, lips mere inches apart.

“Hmm?” he hums in response.

“I have another surprise for you.” You whisper into his ear before pulling back to look at his face.

“What’s that, doll?” he whispers.

You smirk and step away from him, noticing the confusion on his face before you pull your dress over your head and throw it onto the floor.

Bucky’s jaw drops, making you bite your lip and smirk even more. This was gonna be fun.

“Oh, fuck me,” He groans.

“Oh, I fully intend on it, Buck” you smirk.

He just groans and starts walking towards you.

“Buck?”

“Yeah sweets?”

“Wanna be mine tonight?”

“Fuck, I’ll be yours forever doll.” He says, making you whimper. You pull him against you by his tie, pressing your bodies together.

Your lips crash and tongues swirl together fighting for dominance. Hands moving up and down each other’s bodies like animals. Bucky squeezing your ass so tight you know there’s gonna be marks.

You both pull back enough so you can shimmy off Bucky’s tie and throw it over his head before unbuttoning his shirt and peeling it off him. You then sink to your knees and undo his belt quickly before slowly unzipping his pants, kissing the outside of his member though his pants making him exhale a breath sharply.

“Fuck” he breathes out.

You don’t want to tease him too much (yet) so after another kiss, you shove his pants off and lay down on the bed, his body caging you under him.

The passionate makeout session resumes with Bucky still hard in his boxers pressing against your clothed core. You suddenly remember what you wanted and pull back from the kiss.

“Wait, no” you whisper.

Bucky pulls back, confused and nervous he did something to hurt you.

“What’s wrong?” he whispers.

You take advantage of his confusion and roll him over so you were straddling him with a smirk on your face.

Bucky moans at your actions, core pressing tight against him.

“You said you’d be mine.” You breathe over his lips. Moaning as being in charge is giving you a whole rush of feelings and confidence.

You kiss him, and he lets you dominate the kiss this time, biting his lips and grinding on him. He bucks his hips onto your and you pull back.

“Don’t worry baby, I’ll take care of you, I’ll make you feel so good.”

Bucky moans at your words as you start to kiss all the way down his body, leaving little hickies down his chest. When you get towards his boxers he thinks your gonna kiss his member or pull down his boxers, but instead you go back up his chest, licking a stripe from his belly button all the way to one of his nipples, up his neck, to his lips.

Bucky moans, loud. You give him one more kiss before deciding to stop teasing him (kinda). You quickly kiss down his chest again and then plant a few kisses on his aching cock through his boxers. He bucks his hips and is whimpering under you. Fuck, that turns you on. Your big strong boyfriend who could probably crush you with one arm, whimpering and practically begging under you. Your panties are fucking soaked and you don’t think you can deny your own pleasure too much longer. You pull down his boxers and his cock is throbbing and dripping precum.

“Shit” you moan at the sight.

You lick the precum off him and he gives a high pitched moan that goes straight to your core.

“Baby please, I- I can’t.”

“Don’t worry baby I got you.” You reply as you take his full member into your mouth, sucking lightly.

Bucky moans and bucks his hips into your mouth. You push them back down and suck a few more times before getting off of him. He looks worried for a second before you slide your panties off and straddle his cock.

“Still wanna be mine?”

“Always” he replies.

You sink down onto him, jaw dropping and eyes closing at the feeling. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to him no matter how many times he’s been inside you. You both moan as his whole cock is finally buried inside you.

“Fuck Bucky, you feel so fucking good in me.” You moan, starting to rock your hips.

“God, I’m so fucking wet for you.”

Bucky continues to give low moans as you start to ride him.

“Fuck baby, I love you like this.” He says, making you start to ride him harder, moaning at his words.

His hands come grab your hips to help you ride him faster, harder.

“Baby- shit I’m close already.” He pleads.

“All for me? Shit baby aren’t I the lucky one?” You moan.

Bucky’s grip on your hips tighten and he starts to fuck up into you. He was about to blow.

You moan loudly at the feeling. “Cum in me baby please I need it.”

After a particularly hard thrust into your wet pussy you feel him spilling inside you. He lets out one of those vulgar high pitched moans and grunts that make your brain short circuit and your eyes roll back while your pussy clenches around him. You feel yourself getting close, but you want to give him another orgasm, so you sink down on him fully and slowly ride him, hearing him whimpering and moaning. You feel him get hard in you again (thank you supersoldier serum) and you rock back and forth on him. You reach down to rub your clit, but Bucky sees it and swats your hand away, replacing it with his metal one.

“Oh fuck” you moan at the cool sensation.

You start to bounce up and down on him again, the knot in your abdomen building and heating up. You feel yourself close to being undone as you ride him and his other hand runs up your body and squeezes your nipple through your thin lace bra. You moan and feel yourself clench around him, making him moan.

“Fuck- I’m gonna c-“ you get interrupted by the white hot explosion of your orgasm. Your eyes roll back, jaw hangs open and toes curl as you feel that release knock throughout your whole body, making you shake. You let out those high pitched moans and whines that only Bucky makes you feel.

Feeling you clench around him and watching your completely fucked out face, you feel Bucky’s thick cock twitch inside of you, and you moan as you feel him release in you again. Fuck that makes you feel good. So good you can’t think or move and you start to collapse on top of Bucky, but he slightly catches you and lays you down on his chest, both breathing heavy, with his cock still inside you, cum dripping all down your legs and onto Bucky.

You can’t speak, can’t think, the pleasure totally ruining you. After what feels like forever, you feel your breathing start to return to normal, as does Bucky’s, and you feel his hand rubbing up and down your back, grounding you back to earth from wherever on cloud nine you were.

You hum as you feel yourself finally calm down.

“Holy fuck, doll” you feel him lowly whine in your ear. You can only moan lowly in response.

“Baby that was fucking amazing.”

“Mmhmm.” You hum.

“…but I think I’m gonna lose my mind if you keep clenching around me.” He chuckles.

“oh shit, sorry,” you mumble out. You try to push up off of him but the farthest you got was placing your hands on his shoulders before your body gave up on you.

“Oh my God, I can’t move” you whisper. You’re so fucked out, your body won’t respond to your brain anymore.

Bucky moans at your words and slowly rolls both of you so youre on your side facing him. He reaches down and pulls his soft cock out of your pussy, moaning when he sees a burst of cum leaking from you.

You moan at the feeling of him exiting your body. You look him in the eyes and give him a lazy smile. His eyes sparkle back at you and his hand comes up to rub your cheek.

“Mm” you hum at the feeling.

“That was fucking incredible” he says, making you smile wider.

“I’m not disagreeing” you quip.

He chuckles lightly before saying “you gotta do this more often.”

“What, surprise you on business trips?” you question.

“No” he rolls his eyes and smiles, “Well yes actually, but I was talking about you absolutely taking charge tonight.”

“Oh yeah?” you smirk.

“Fuck yeah doll, I don’t think I’ve ever cum as hard. You looked so damn sexy in charge.”

You look away from his eyes, shying at his words, but also they were giving you the confidence to look right back into his eyes and say “I agree” with a smirk.

“I love hearing those high pitched moans you make, It turns me on so much” you admit.

“You know, only you can get those noises out of me, doll” he chides. You blush and smile at him.

He chuckles and you bring his face towards yours and kiss him deeply, tongues meeting together. You both hum into the kiss as his hand rubs down the side of your body.

When you break the kiss, both of you needing a breath, he pulls your body towards him, resting your head on his chest. You hum in peace as he rubs your back.

“I love you so much Y/N” he says and you feel your heart absolutely burst in your chest.

“I love you so much too Buck,” you reply, lifting your head to peck him on the lips before placing your head back on his chest.

You lay in silence for a minute before your mind begins to wander again.

“Did you mean it?” you ask.

“Mean what, doll?”

“That you’ll be mine forever?” you ask. “I mean not just in the sexy way but that you’ll be with me forever?” you ramble out.

“God yes sweetheart, you’re the one for me.” He responds and you didn’t think your heart could explode anymore, but it just did.

You squeeze his shoulder with your hand before coming up to kiss him passionately again, almost crying at all of the love going though you.

“I promise I’m all yours forever too, Buck” you smile at him.

“Good,” he smiles back, and you rest back on his chest, eyes getting droopy.

“Night-night sweetheart.” You feel yourself smile in your sleep.

“Goodnight my love.” You reply, further cuddling into his chest. Bucky feels his heart combust in his chest. God, wasn’t he lucky to have you. He didn’t know what he did to deserve you, but he knew that he was going to assure you that you deserve the world every day for the rest of his life. He kissed the top of your head before falling into a deep sleep, content with his favorite person tight in his arms.

[angryinternetduck]

a mutual feeling

harry styles x reader. enemies (kind of) to lovers. 9.5k words. summary/warnings: boxing! boxer!harry x boxer!reader, harry's dad is your trainer, you kind of hate each other, not really, it's not even enemies to lovers they're both just brats, it's boxing so there's kind of a lot of violence and blood, there's nothing too explicit, alcohol consumption, you're a better fighter than he is and you fight and end up doing it, oops, friends w benefits type of deal, he doesn't do relationships but he likes you, oops again, and you like him, triple oops, it's quite the journey but you'll make it.

***

“You look like shit,” Harry greets you when you open the door.

“And you, my love,” you respond with a slight slur, “look handsome as always.” You lean in for a kiss, and Harry gently pushes you away, rolling his eyes as he walks into your apartment. You grimace at the contact, feeling the pain even through the fuzz of the whiskey you’re holding.

“My dad would kill you if he were here,” Harry says.

You giggle, shutting the door behind him. “Well, then, thank goodness he’s not!”

Harry glares at you from your refrigerator and makes a noncommittal grunt.

You frown, suddenly, your alcohol muddled mind working through something. “Wait a minute,” you say slowly, “he’s not here… but you are!” Harry glares even more and walks back over to you. You pout as he guides you to your couch.

Groaning through the pain, you allow him to nudge you onto your back on the couch. “What,” you manage to ask through gritted teeth, “are we gonna fuck now?” Harry sighs, softening the bag of frozen peas he’s holding with his fingers. “You wish.”

He kneels down beside the couch and lays the bag over your bruised nose and black eye. He’s biting on his lip, concentrating and wincing a little bit whenever he hits a sensitive spot and you grimace. He fiddles with the peas, trying to get the bag in exactly the right spot, and you watch his eyes. His green, green, worried eyes.

“He knows,” you murmur.

Harry’s jaw clenches, and that’s the only response you need.

You roll your head away from him, breaking eye contact and letting the bag of peas slide onto your black eye. “Fuck.” Suddenly you’re sober. Harry sighs again, going still for a moment, and then another, and then he stands up and walks away.

“What if I didn’t show up tomorrow?” you ask softly.

You hear him fumbling around in your cabinet.

After a moment, he says, “You will.”

You don’t say anything, because he’s right.

Silence falls over the room, and you’re just about to ask him what he’s doing over there when there’s a loud bang. You gasp, jolting upright, and watch Harry shake out his fist. Your cabinet door is ajar, papers and knick knacks misplaced.

“You promised him, goddammit!”

You exhale slowly, sharply, leaning back as the pain from your sudden movement sets in.

“You promised me!” Harry closes the distance between the cabinet and the couch, throwing your first aid kit onto the coffee table in front of you quite violently. “Christ, you said you’re done! No more fighting.”

You close your eyes. “I’m sorry.”

He breathes a second, and you can hear he’s panting. So angry. “I don’t know what else I’m supposed to do,” you go on softly when he doesn’t talk for a moment. “I get antsy, and it’s late, and, well…” You turn over a little bit, grimacing, and hold up the wad of cash.

“Train!” he bursts, ignoring the money. “You said training! Fight with my dad! It’s so easy. Fight with gloves! Spar! For fuck’s sake, you said no more of this - this underground - rubbish. You can’t be out there fighting random people just to get your rocks off.”

You frown. “It’s not -”

“You’re so fucking reckless it’s insane!” he interrupts, apparently on a rant. “I cannot believe how stupid you are. After all this, you won’t go pro, won’t stop, won’t - won’t do anything but keep fucking yourself up and leaving me to clean up after!”

That strikes a nerve, and you sit up, anger brewing in your stomach. It always seems to come to this with him. “What?” you scoff incredulously. “Leave you to clean up after?” Harry scowls at you. “What else would you call this?”

“I’d call this you getting into my business!” you exclaim. “I’d call this you coming to my house in the dead of night because you’re - you’re worried about me. That has nothing to do with me, Styles, and you fucking know it. I never asked for this. I’d be just fucking fine on my own, thank you very much.”

“Yeah?” Harry spits, grabbing the half empty bottle of whiskey and shaking it at you. “Just fine, huh? Bleeding out on your couch passed out from too much to drink, that’s fine? We have very different definitions of fine then, don’t we?”

You scowl at him, vision going red with anger, and you shout, “I’ll prove it! Leave!” You jump to your feet, getting riled up, but can only start, “There’s the -” before pain shoots through your body and you fall back down, struggling for breath.

“Shit,” Harry mutters. The bottle’s dropped and he’s at your side in a second, taking bandages and disinfectant out of your first aid kit. He pulls up your shirt, cleaning a bruise on your rib cage that broke skin before pressing a soft cloth against it. “There could be a broken rib in here,” he says under his breath. “You need to go to -”

“I’m fine,” you cut in.

He looks at you, concern in his gaze, and you have to shut your eyes.

“I can’t afford it,” you whisper. “Give it a few days. I’ll be able to tell. If it’s really bad… I’ll go.” He doesn’t reply, doesn’t say anything, but you can hear the worry in the silence. “Promise?” he says.

“Yeah.”

He grabs your hand, and you frown, and he says, “Look at me.”

You meet his eyes, lifting your hand just off the couch with your pinky extended.

He links his pinky with yours.

“Pinky swear,” you say.

***

You can tell Des is pissed from the moment you walk into the gym. You can’t even see him yet and you already know. There’s something in the air. Everybody turns to stare, eyes wide, faces shameless. They have a right, though - it’s not every day somebody comes in with fresh bruises and black eyes.

“He’s in back,” the receptionist tells you as soon as you walk up to the counter.

“Great,” you mutter. “Thanks.” You shift your bag further onto your back, heading for the back room where you train. And there he is, sitting on a bench, feet up on a yoga ball and eyes trained stubbornly on his phone.

“Hey, Mr. Styles,” you say cheerily, only a hint of sarcasm slipping into your tone.

“Don’t hey, Mr. Styles me.”

You clear your throat and shut up.

“What you did last night,” he begins, standing up and crossing his arms across his chest, “was reckless, uncalled for, and dangerous. Not to mention stupid.” You grit your teeth, letting your bag slide to the floor and leaning against the doorframe. You’re in for a long one.

“These fights aren’t only dangerous but illegal,” he goes on. “You could’ve gotten yourself jailed or worse. And you know that.” He steps forward. “The worst part is you know that. We’ve been over this so, so many times. And you still go and risk your life.”

You bite your lip and look at the floor.

“I train you because you’re good,” Des tells you. “You’re a damn good fighter, you know that? And it helps you, I can see that much. A right stupid bloody temper, that’s what you have, and if I can save some poor bloke on the street from getting his arse kicked, I will. But if you won’t go pro, won’t do it safely, and won’t stop with these bloody undergrounds I can’t do it anymore!”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“Damn right you’re sorry! You promised me! You swore! Said you’d never go out again! And I had to find out from my ex wife that you’re at a fight? What the hell?” You frown at this, confused suddenly, and ask, “Anne told you?”

Des scowls and turns away. “Her coworker’s daughter’s involved. I don’t bloody know. Don’t know how, why, when - but it doesn’t matter, does it?” He rounds on you, again, and you sigh quietly, exhausted from the lecture and the guilt and the pain.

He must clock it, because he softens, taking a breath and rubbing his fingers over his eyes. “Go home,” he says. “I can’t… I can’t look at you, and you can barely lift a muscle. A right mess, you are, about to fall apart just from standing so long.”

You start to complain, “But -!”

“No. Go home. Now, or else I’ll have Harry drive you.”

Frowning at the threat, and the fact that it worked, you pick up your bag and turn to go. Before you leave, though, you look at him once more. “I’m sorry,” you say. “I really am.” Des sighs. “I know,” he says.

You walk out. Stares, round two, and then you’re outside, and you take a breath of the cool air. It’s October, cold, but it feels good. Walking down the steps, you see Harry, leaned against a tree with a book.

You roll your eyes and ignore him, hoping he won’t notice you.

But he does. He calls your name, jumps up, walks over to you.

“Save it, Harry,” you say immediately. “I don’t need another lecture.”

You see him frown from the corner of your eye. “I don’t… I wasn’t gonna.”

“Save it anyway,” you mutter.

He says your name again and stops walking. You feel his hand brush against yours, like he wants to grab your hand. Against your better judgement, you stop walking too. “What?” you ask, a bit shortly.

“I just… I’m sorry,” he says.

Your brows furrow in confusion. “For what?”

Harry clears his throat. Looks at his hands. “Last night. I shouldn’t’ve said those things.”

“Oh,” you say.

“Yeah,” he says, half smiling as he looks up again. “Oh. I just - well, you’re right, that’s all. I’m just getting in your business.” You sigh, shaking your head and starting to apologize yourself, but he cuts you off. “No, no, you don’t have to - I just wanted to say that I’m…” He breathes a laugh. “I’m available. If you want to fight. When you get antsy. Even if it’s… late.”

You can’t help but smile a little bit. “Are you offering to get my rocks off for me?”

Harry barks a laugh and then says, “Yeah. Yeah, I guess I am.”

“Fuck yes.”

He doesn’t say anything, and your eyes lock, just for a second, and then you clear your throat, looking away. “Right, well, I’ll… I’ll see you around.” He nods. “Yeah,” he says, heading back to his tree. “See ya.”

***

Antsy.

The ceiling fan spins around above you, taunting you, pushing hot air around and around. It’s October and you’re somehow hot, cramped in your apartment. It’s a few weeks later, now, around midnight. You had a session with Des this morning, and you’re still antsy. Restless. You could probably go down the street, get your brains knocked out, earn a little cash.

Or you could call Harry.

Grotesque, just the idea of it. What a surrender. You roll out of bed, shove on pants and a sweatshirt for the cold air outside, and grab your car keys. You’re sweating by the time you get to the door, then freezing cold when you step outside.

The drive isn’t too long, a few minutes. The parking lot’s empty. It’s eerie. Des keeps a key above the door under the light. You’re surprised to see a dim light on in the back, and you’re even more surprised to see Harry hunched over a book.

“You’re in a gym, Styles, and you’re reading,” you say, breaking the silence. He jumps and looks up. His eyes are tired. “You’re in a gym,” he says back, “and it’s midnight.” His voice is raspy.

“Could say the same to you.”

“I live here.”

You raise a brow. “So?”

“You don’t.”

“Right.”

He holds your gaze. He likes to do that, likes to keep eye contact and make you think he’s staring into your soul. You’re the first one to look away. You always are. It’s unnerving. His eyes are so pretty, too. If you stare too long you start to admire him.

“You’re a bit early for a session,” he says as you put down your bag.

You pull on your gloves. The velcro is deafening. “I got antsy,” you reply.

“Did I miss a call?”

“No.”

“I’m a little offended.”

You crack your neck, bounce on your toes. “We’re not friends, Styles.”

“Right, I’m very offended.”

You step away from him, towards the punching bag. “Besides,” you say, “you’re too weak” - you throw a punch, the bag swings, creaks - “to spar with me.” Harry huffs, standing up and walking closer. “Christ, you’re just bullying me now.”

“I’m good at that.”

“Not really.”

Another punch, right hook, a combo, one, two, three, he’s standing against the wall, looking very cool with his arms across his chest. “Yeah?” you ask. “Should I try harder?” One, two, you’re starting to sweat. It feels good.

“Should stop trying at all.”

Three, four - one, one, four - “Go read your novel, Styles.”

He watches you for a second, and then sits down. He opens his book.

When you leave, an hour and a half later, he’s fallen asleep.

***

Another week and you’re wired again. The fan’s off, you’re sweating, but not in a good way. Soon you’re in the car, in the parking lot, in the gym. And… the light’s on again. For a second, you wonder if he ever sleeps.

“No wonder you’re so weak,” you start this time. “You never sleep.”

He doesn’t jump this time. “And neither, apparently, do you.”

“Least it doesn’t affect my fighting.”

“Affects your head, though. Explains the stupidity.”

You sigh. “You’re a prick.”

“Takes one to know one.”

“What are you, five?”

You look up and he’s smiling, the bastard, like it’s funny. Which it is, actually, but he’s being annoying about it. When you meet his gaze, he smiles more, just for a second, and then looks down at his book. “Won’t bother you this time,” he murmurs.

“Gee,” you say wryly, “I appreciate it.”

He doesn’t reply, just shrugs, and reads.

You frown, because you’re surprised. Not because you’re upset. Not because you wanted to talk to him. Or maybe you did. The anger is good fuel. You take it out on the punching bag.

You don’t stay as long this time. He’s still awake when you leave.

“See ya,” he says as you walk out.

These late night sessions don’t hold you over like a good fight does. Every week you’re going over there, and every week he’s there, too. The light doesn’t surprise you anymore, and to your embarrassment, you’ve begun to come up with your witty greetings on the way.

The conversations don’t last as long. It’s a back and forth, and then silence. It’s comfortable, the silence, and you don’t bring music. You should. You should block him out, forget he’s there, but you can’t.

It’s true, about the anger. It’s good fuel.

You feel him staring one night. He’s so intense. You think about his eyes, how much you hate them, how expressive they are, how you can tell exactly what he’s feeling, what he’s thinking…

The chain swings, creaks, you breathe in, out, one, two, three -

Harry catches the punching bag.

You pull your punch to keep from breaking his nose. “Shit, Styles, what the hell?”

He’s grinning at you, dimpling, you want to punch him, he says, “Let’s fight.”

“I told you,” you sigh, turning away, “you’re too weak for me.”

“The last time we sparred, I was sixteen.”

“And I’m sure you haven’t improved since.”

Harry raises his brows. “You think you’re better than me?”

“Yes,” you say, “yes I do.”

“Wanna prove it?”

You look at him, let your eyes drift over his body. He’s worked out, that’s for sure, and he’s so damn tall, too. He crosses his arms over his chest and watches you smugly, like you’re checking him out and not assessing his skill level. You kind of are checking him out. The sharp angle of his jaw line probably doesn’t affect the power of his punch.

You break the moment of silence. And then you say, “Fuck yes.”

It takes a second, a second of getting on gloves and drinking water and shedding layers, and then another second of bouncing on your toes, circling each other, watching his smile, his eyes, in the dim glow of the moon in the windows.

And then he makes the first move.

He throws a punch.

“Too easy,” you say as you duck.

“Just getting warmed up.”

“Lucky for you,” you start, moving closer, telegraphing left, “I’m already warm.” You go right. Right hook, for the jaw - he blocks it, of course, and you go under, for his stomach. He doesn’t dodge that one.

“Thought you’d give me a little more than that,” he says, but he’s a little breathless so the effect doesn’t carry. You just smile, watching his shoulders. Broad shoulders. His hips move left, you duck right, it’s too easy. His punch goes too far. The momentum carries him, you hold those broad shoulders and knee into his ribcage.

He coughs, stumbling a little, and you feel a twinge of guilt. Oops.

And then it’s all movement.

He lunges forward and -

One, two - hook left, dodge it, he’s sweating, eyes focused - one, two, another left jab, an uppercut that lands. He’s spinning, bouncing, now you’re the one that’s coughing. No more guilt. He doesn’t draw blood, though, going weak on you. Of course he is.

Amused, you laugh, “Shit, Styles,” and square your shoulders, crack your neck, draw closer, hands up. His brows jump, and he looks just as amused as you are. Bounce, bounce, eye contact, a teasing glint in his eyes.

Here we go, you think, and now it’s your turn.

One-two-three-four, bang bang bang, every punch lands, not hard, go gentle, a knee to his stomach, also gentle, pull him down, elbow to his back, so gentle, don’t hurt him, look at those back muscles, he swears under his breath, arm behind his back, don’t pull, don’t hurt him, he’s on the floor, on his stomach, arm bent, your knee on the small of his back -

He breathes a laugh, craning to look at you over his shoulder. “Alright, then. Point proved.” You grin, releasing him and falling back onto your hands. “I’m not one to say I told you so…”

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, turning onto his back. He puts his cheek against the mat, looking at you. He’s still smiling. You look at his dimples, his cheek, and you lean forward, off your hands. He holds your gaze, no surprise there, and you hold his.

His smile fades, and you watch his eyes flick down and back up. You’re panting, chest rising, falling - it’s so quiet. You creep forward. He swallows, you see his throat work. He’s still sweating. So are you, probably.

You lean over him, watch his eyes widen, trail your finger over his cheek. “I hope I didn’t bruise you,” you murmur. He’s breathing just as heavily as you are, and even though he looks like he’s about to faint, his voice is cocky as he asks, “Oh, is that why you’re touching me?”

Closer, closer, your necklace hangs in the space between the two of you. Even closer, and it rests on his chest. “I don’t know,” you whisper. “Are we about to fuck?” He rolls over, suddenly, doesn’t reply, pulls you with him, and he’s on top of you and he’s kissing you and it feels so good, tastes so good, you close your eyes and grin and pull him closer, closer.

Turns out the answer’s yes.

***

A rude awakening. So rude. Borderline disrespectful.

Everything hurts. You groan, rolling over.

The bell on the door chimes again, and your eyes snap open.

You bolt upright. “Fuck,” you hiss.

“Such a dirty mouth,” Harry mumbles, still half asleep.

Scrambling for clothes, you mutter, “Your dad’s here, idiot.”

“Oh,” Harry says, blinking awake. “Fuck.”

You hurry to grab clothes and get decent and run out the door without another word to Harry. It’s cold outside, and you’re only half dressed. You get your car running, pull out of the parking lot, and hope Des doesn’t see you.

When you’re home, you take a cold shower. Icy cold. Your head’s still pounding, but you manage to muddle through what happened last night. Regret seeps through you with the water, and you’re thankful for the heat in your apartment when you step out.

You have a session with Des in a few hours.

Should be fun. Awkward.

And it is, when you eventually get there. A little of both. Mostly awkward. Des doesn’t suspect anything. He must not have seen your car in the morning. You trade smirks and scowls and glares and grins with Harry throughout the morning, but not a word.

Not a single word.

***

Antsy.

Antsy, antsy, restless, wired.

And guilty.

Because you’re not antsy for a fight. You’re antsy for a chat. Or a fuck. Whatever. You’re expecting a few words to turn into a few kisses, and then a few more, and then another rude awakening. You can’t tell if you’re excited about that or already guilty.

So much guilt. Can never get away from the guilt.

You’re thinking about it the whole ride over, through empty streets and hour long red lights and mocking stop signs. It’s so quiet. You can’t get over how quiet the world is when your head is so ridiculously loud.

Through all that, you can’t come up with a single thing to start with.

You used to pull into the parking lot and come up with a nice snarky comment to start the evening out with. Just like that. You’d walk in and mull it over and decide it was perfect then tweak it just so right before saying it.

And you’d get a rush of satisfaction from his reply and his smirk and his dimples.

Not tonight. Tonight you think the whole way over and can’t think of a single thing to say. Nothing to start with, nothing to end with, nothing to tell him or yell at him or sob at him. Nothing. Zero, zilch, nada.

He’s working out when you get there. Shimmering in the moonlight with his shirt off, throwing punches at the punching bag and bouncing around and panting breaths. It comes to you, then, what to say, and you say it.

“Oh, how the turntables…”

He stops and stills the punching bag with his hand and turns to look at you. He doesn’t look particularly uncomfortable. Maybe a little unsure. Mostly smug. His eyes are the only things giving away his uncertainty.

“Didn’t think you’d show up,” he says.

“No faith in me, huh?”

He smiles. “None at all.” He takes off his gloves and stretches, flexing for you, and you let your eyes rake over him shamelessly. “Didn’t bring a book with me,” you muse, setting your bag down. “Then we’d really be, uh… swapped…”

“Shame.”

Your eyes lock. There’s a beat of silence, and you let it linger for a while. His eyes are so expressive. Green, so green. Even greener up close. “So are we gonna talk about it?” you ask after a second.

“Talk about what?”

You debate punching him. Hard. You could break his nose. Get a little blood gushing. Maybe he’d talk to you then. “It’s rude to answer a question with a question, Styles.” He leans against the wall. “Is it?”

“It’s a sign of weakness, actually.”

He raises a brow. “You think I’m the one at a disadvantage here?”

“Aren’t we both?”

“Do you regret it?”

You’re playing along now. “Do you?”

“Would you do it again?”

You hold his gaze, walk closer. “Isn’t that the same question?”

He opens his mouth, then closes it. He grins.

And then he kisses you.

Dammit, you think through the euphoria, he somehow managed to win.

***

It’s not that you expected that it would happen again. It’s not like you were hoping for it to happen again, or even like you were dreading it would happen again. It was one of those hope for the best, prepare for the worst situations.

Three in the morning, and your watch buzzes against your wrist.

Groaning, you sit up and gather your clothes. You get dressed, slip out, and drive home. One icy cold shower later, you’re wishing you felt regret. You wish you were guilty, or upset, or embarrassed.

Instead, you picture those dimples and grin.

You ignore him when you go to the gym for your session with Des. You work out, get your heartrate up, push away all thoughts about Harry Styles, and leave. The ball is in his court, you decide, and you’re not one to steal. Or maybe you are. You’re just too stubborn at the moment.

It feels good to be rid of him, even if it’s just temporary. It takes a few days, a few days of you ignoring his more and more frequent glances, a few days of you leaving as soon as your session’s over, a few days of you parking around back so he can’t corner you out front where he reads.

Then he follows you. He does corner you, only at your car rather than at his tree. He’s leaned up against it when you walk out, and you sigh when you catch sight of him. A sigh of irritation. Because you’re annoyed. It’s not a sigh of relief, obviously, or a sigh of happiness.

“Waiting for me at my car?” you say, walking up to him. “I’m a little creeped out.”

Harry looks up at you, brows raised. “She speaks!”

You fiddle with your keys. “Yeah, she’s been known to, here and there.”

He bites his lip, looking at you thoughtfully. “You know, I don’t know where you live.”

“Wow, you managed to get even creepier.”

“I said I don’t know where you live,” he says, smiling a bit.

You open the door, lean against it. “I heard you.”

“I was gonna visit you. Bring flowers or summat.”

“Flowers!” you gasp. “A creep and a liar. How romantic.”

He smiles even more. “You didn’t show up for a while.”

“I’m glad you noticed.”

“I was getting worried.”

You cock a brow. “Is worried a synonym for horny now, or…?”

His smile curls into a smirk. “That too.”

You nod, mocking sympathy. “Right, right, you poor soul.” You clear your throat, sliding into the driver’s seat, and close the door as you turn the key in the ignition. “Well!” you exclaim, rolling down the window so he can hear you. “I’m gonna drive away now. Nice talking to you.”

He puts his palm on the door, leans against it, muscles flexing. “My mate’s coming into town,” he says. He’s looking at you. So intense. “Yeah?” you ask. “Are you into that?” His brows jump, teasingly, but then he’s shaking his head.

“Nah, I just… He’s a good lad, you know? And he needs a place to stay.”

“Your dad lives with you, Styles, and I don’t think he’d like to hear -”

“He’s not staying with us.”

You scoff slightly. “You think he’d wanna stay in my little -”

“No,” Harry interrupts, “he’s staying in a hotel.”

Your eyes narrow, wondering if you know where he’s going with this. You stay quiet.

“And, uh…” He breaks eye contact, which makes you suspicious, and looks out towards the gym behind your car. “I wanna make sure the place he’s staying is nice.” He looks back at you, just a hint of a smirk in his eyes.

“Styles,” you begin slowly, and then he clears his throat, cutting you off again, and leans back, off your car, standing up straight. He’s looking at the gym again. “I think you need to come with me to test out this hotel he’s staying at.”

You laugh. You laugh, throwing your head back, being dramatic about it, and say, “You did not just go through all that just to get me in a hotel room with you.” Harry meets your gaze, finally, and grins. “My back’s getting sore for all the wrong reasons.”

“Christ almighty, you absolute bastard.” You put on your seat belt, shaking your head with a huge smile on your face. “Fuck you, Styles,” you say, putting your foot on the pedal, “and call me when you figure out a date.”

***

Apparently, the date is a week later.

And a week later, it feels so nice to wake up on a bed. All the satisfaction of the night before and a perfectly comfortable bed to wake up in. You’re more content than you should be, and you have to hide your smile the next morning after round - four? Five? Whatever. The first of the morning. And last, apparently.

He’s pulling on his pants, fixing himself in the mirror, and you’re staring at him and thinking. Thinking about what to say, when to say it, how to say it, whether you’re a wimp for wanting to say it. “So we’re really not gonna talk about it, huh?” you finally say.

He hums a “Hm?” and meets your gaze in the mirror.

You glare. “Gonna make me spell it out?”

“Spell what out?”

“Again with the questions,” you mutter.

“Right, well, I wasn’t trying to be smart,” Harry starts, and you can’t help cutting in, “Are you ever?” He purses his lips at you and turns around. “Tell me.” You’re almost impressed, and then he adds, “Is that better?”

You breathe a sigh, clearing your throat and turning on the dramatics again. Sitting up, you sit on your calves and clutch the blanket to your chest. With your best puppy dog eyes, you gush, “What are we, Styles?”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Mortal enemies,” he says under his breath, turning around again to put on his shirt. “Yeah?” you say. “All blood and guts?” He smirks at you in the mirror. “I think I felt your guts last night when -”

You laugh and cut him off. “Oh, alright.”

A second of silence, and he goes a little more serious. “I hope you know I don’t do relationships,” he says quietly. Your brows jump. “And I thought I was the dramatic one.” He sighs, turning around to face you. “I’m not being dramatic.”

“The hell you aren’t,” you say with a grin.

He frowns. “We’re not a thing.”

“Good,” you tell him. “I’d kill you.”

“You have to tell me if you ever get into a relationship,” he says.

You blink. “Huh?”

“We’re done if you start dating.”

You scoff a laugh. “Um? No shit?”

“And we can’t tell my dad.”

Shaking your head, you hold up a hand. “Hold on, back track. I’ll tell you if I ever start dating, and you tell me if you ever do.” He shrugs and replies, “That’s easy. I won’t date.” You frown. “You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do.”

“You’re a prick,” you say, impulsively.

“Which is why I won’t date.”

“Some people are into that.”

“Are you?”

You bounce your eyebrows. “Clearly.”

“And yet you don’t wanna date me.”

“Fuck no.”

“Point proved.”

“Fuck you.”

He grins. “Fuck me yourself.”

You laugh, incredulously, and flop back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. “Alright. It’s off if either of us get into a relationship -” You hold up a finger when he starts to talk and push on, “And your dad can’t know.”

“I’m not paying for this hotel every time you get horny.”

You sit up and scoff, “Every time I get -”

“Every time we want to spend quality time together,” he amends, a sweet smile on his face. You grin and lay back again. “My apartment’s small,” you say. “But there’s a bed.” Harry hums, sitting on the bed, and you turn your head to watch him pull on his shoes.

“Anywhere that’s not the gym floor is fine with me.”

“Ooh, you’ll get to see where I live,” you say. “Should I be scared?”

“For your bed, maybe.”

You snicker and mutter, “You’re gross.”

“So are you.”

“A match made in heaven.”

Harry makes a noise of disagreement. “Hell.”

You smile, reaching over to fiddle with his shirt. “Purgatory.”

“You’re awful.”

“And you’re gross,” you reply with a shrug.

You can see him biting back a smile as he stands up. “Right. And - nobody can know.”

“Yeah, yeah, we won’t tell your dad.”

“No, I mean - other people, too.”

You raise a brow. “Who cares?”

He frowns, turning away to grab his coat. “They might get the wrong idea.”

You breathe a laugh and sit up, stretching a bit. “Yeah? And what’s the right idea?”

“Anything but whatever the hell’s happening here.”

“Wow, I’m offended.”

“Should be. Fuck you.”

Childishly, you stick your tongue out at him. “Fuck me yours-”

“And now we’re just going in circles,” Harry interrupts. He grabs his coat, and you realize he’s fully dressed, and you’re a bit startled. “Don’t be late for the gym,” he tells you. “My dad’ll get suspicious.”

You roll your eyes. “Oh, well, heaven forbid your dad -”

“Just don’t be late.”

“Interrupt me one more time, Styles, I -”

He smirks, opens the door, and leaves.

You groan and fall back onto the bed again, then sigh happily.

This situation with Harry, you think, is absolutely terrible.

***

He is so cute.

Just the most adorable.

All smiles and big green eyes and soft curls you want to run your hands through.

“I think I love you,” you murmur drunkenly, and he laughs.

He’s got a nice laugh. Sounds like music. “Think I feel the same.”

You lean into him, pressing kisses against the column of his throat. “I really think I love you, Harry,” you whisper, and he clears his throat, going a bit stiff. “Jack,” he says. “It’s Jack.”

“Oh,” you giggle. You look up at him. “Your eyes are green,” you tell him.

He smiles again, and he doesn’t have dimples. “That they are,” he says.

You’re at some bar. Two weeks after the hotel meet up. Harry’s been to your apartment about a million times, but luckily, the bed’s still in one piece. Here, there’s music going, and you have a few drinks on the table in front of you.

A few guys bought you drinks. Jack did. He was nice about it, though. He’s such a gentleman. He offered to buy you food, brought you to a table and talked with you while you ate. He pulled the chair out for you.

He nudges at your cheek, pressing his lips to your skin. It’s all wrong. But he’s a gentleman, and boy, are his eyes green. You sway a little to the music playing. He kisses you more. It feels nice.

You turn so your back is to his chest, and he stops with the kissing. He holds your waist, not too low, so respectful. What a gentleman. With those green, green eyes. “I wanna make you feel good,” he whispers in your ear.

“Yeah?” you say, giggling a little.

He kisses your throat, so lightly, so nicely. “I wanna take you home.”

You pout at that and turn around, wiggling your hand at him. “Oh, Jack,” you say, “I’m married!” He frowns, pulling away a little bit. “What?” You show him the ring on your finger, only half processing that it’s on your middle finger and you’re essentially flipping him off.

Your gaze focuses. “Oh,” you say, outloud, lowering your hand and inspecting the ring. It’s Harry’s, you realize. He left it in your room last week, and you wore it so you wouldn’t forget to give it to him the next time you saw him. But you forgot.

“I forgot,” you murmur.

“You forgot you’re married?” Jack scoffs incredulously.

“No!” you exclaim, looking up. “No, no, I’m not - I’m not married. Not at all.”

He relaxes, but he still looks skeptical.

“I just - it’s complicated.”

“I didn’t know,” he says, backing away. “I don’t want to get in the middle of anything.”

“You wouldn’t be,” you say softly.

He laughs awkwardly. “Um… Yeah, well, it seems like I would be.”

You’re not sure what to say, and eventually settle on a weak, “I’m sorry.”

“Right.” He clears his throat. “Me too. Well, it was nice… it was nice meeting you.”

You look up, shaking your head. “Wait, you don’t have to…”

“I think I should,” he says. “Yeah, so - bye, I guess.”

“Bye,” you say softly. “Bye, bye…”

***

What a headache. So much pain.

You groan, rolling over onto your stomach, and look at the clock.

“Shit.”

You’re late. You’re so, so late. Des will be pissed. You haven’t been late for a session in almost two years. You scramble out of bed, downing a painkiller and stumbling around your apartment until you’re changed and about ready to go.

The medicine kicks in on the way, and you’re almost sentient by the time you get to the gym. Harry gives you a weird look on the way, and a bit of a memory flashes through your head. Vaguely, you worry about having confessed your love to him.

You have a session though, and you already have enough on your plate dealing with an angry Des, so you force it out of your head. Des is upset. He gets over it. You throw punches and get your feelings out and set a ring on your finger to the side. You’re not sure how it got there, but it looks like Harry’s. Shit, you think, maybe there really was a declaration of love.

He’s reading against his tree, and you ambush him on the way out. “What did I say last night?” you ask, a bit breathlessly. He looks surprised and replies, “What do you mean?” You sit down next to him, getting your breath back.

“Be honest,” you say.

A smile tugs the corner of his lips. “Aren’t I always?”

“Never. But I didn’t - you’re not -” You huff. “Are we okay?”

The smile drops, and so does your heart. He looks down. Oh, no, you think miserably. You really did. You said you loved him, drunkenly, and ruined your entire relationship. Friendship. Situationship. You’re getting another headache just thinking about it.

“Well, actually… I was thinking… maybe we should take a break,” Harry says quietly.

Your heart drops even further, and you blurt, “I didn’t mean it.”

His brows furrow. He looks up again. “What?”

“I don’t love you.”

Harry blinks, dramatically, and actually laughs. “What?” he repeats.

“What I said last night. I didn’t mean it. I was drunk.”

His brows go down again. “I didn’t… I didn’t see you last night.”

You hold up the ring. “Are you sure?”

He grabs it from you, smiling a bit. “Yeah. Positive. I’ve been looking for this for about three days.” You bite your lip. “Oh,” you say. He looks at you, confused yet again. “If not me,” he says slowly, “who were you with?”

“I don’t know,” you say honestly. “I don’t remember.”

“You slept with somebody?”

“No. I woke up alone. Just a - an awful headache.”

He clears his throat, looking away. “Right, right. Well, you can. Obviously. I don’t - I don’t care. At all. But I was thinking…” He looks down at the ring, at his lap, frowning. “I think we should lay off it a bit.”

“Asking for some space?” you ask, and you’re half joking, but your voice is a little weak.

He looks up. Softly, he says, “Yeah.”

“Wow,” you laugh. “You’re breaking up with me and we’re not even together.”

“I’m not breaking up with you,” he says quickly. Too quickly. His face tinges red, just a bit, and his gaze falls to the ring. “I think… I think we should have another rule. We can only see each other once a week.”

You whistle lowly. “Wow,” you say again.

“Stop with the wows,” Harry mutters. “I get it. You’re impressed.”

“It’s hard not to be.”

“Right, yeah. I’m very impressive.” He’s still looking down. There’s a beat of silence.

“Alright!” you say after a minute. “Alright, well, I’ll see you around, then. I’ll get a calendar.” You stand up, dusting nonexistent grass from your legs. “I’ll doodle your name around each week. What do you say, Fridays? Wednesdays? When’re we doing this, huh?”

“I don’t know. Whenever.”

“Geez, try not to sound so excited.”

He doesn’t say anything.

“Alright!” you repeat. “Goodbye.”

You stand there for half a second, expecting something, anything, and then walk off.

***

He’s not at the gym.

Midnight, a little after, and he’s not at the gym. The lights are off. Ridiculously, you’re not really sure what to do. You give a few half hearted punches, and then leave, feeling like an absolute idiot.

He ignores you the next day during your session at the gym. He works out, parading his toned muscles around the gym and grinning at the instructor to flaunt his dimples. Then he walks out, so he’s gone by the time you’re done with Des.

A week, and he hasn’t said a word. The worst part is that you don’t even know what you did wrong. He’s just scared, you tell yourself. He’d been spending almost every night at your apartment. He’ll come crawling back. He’ll kiss you and tell you he loves you and then you’ll date and everything will be happily ever after.

It’s all lies, of course, because you don’t even know if you’d want a relationship, if you’re ready for that, if you could stand that with him, if you love him - but it’s kind of nice to fantasize about.

You go to a fight one night. You watch. You watch the money, the fighting, watch the happy, painful, bliss on the winners’ faces and hide in the crowd. People recognize you, ask when you’re going, and you say… You say you’re not.

You can’t.

Maybe tomorrow, you say.

But you don’t come the next day. You stare at your ceiling, hot, and watch the fan. Around and around it goes, and you don’t move. You think. You think, and sweat, and eventually get up and take a cold shower.

The next morning, Des isn’t in the back room. You ask the receptionist where he is, and she shrugs. Tells you she has no idea - call him. So you do. You call, and he sounds upset, and he says to come upstairs.

You’ve never been upstairs.

You know where the steps are, though, and you walk up and into the hallway and see Des leaned against a door. “What’s going on?” you ask immediately. “Are you okay?” Des nods, sighing heavily. “I’m fine, but Harry’s - he’s got into a fight.”

You almost laugh. “A fight?”

“Yeah, he…” He sighs again. “A client came in here earlier, hours ago. He was going on about some fight he’d gone to last night, talking about what happened, about… well, about you.” Your eyes widen. “What?”

“Said you wouldn’t fight,” Des goes on quietly. “Started going on about how you can’t… He said you can’t -” He shakes his head. “This is him, mind you, he said not only can you not fight, but you’re a wimp about it, too.”

You can only gape.

“I was gonna kick him out, I was, but Harry… Er - well, they started shoving each other, bloody idiots, and then there were punches and we pulled them apart but they still… Well, he’s got a bit of a shiner.”

“But he’s okay?”

“He’s fine. Mostly.” He eyes you up, looking curious. “Haven’t broken his heart yet, have you?” This time you do laugh. “Sorry?” you ask, and Des smiles a bit. “Boy’s been looney about you for ages, you know. Since the second you stepped in here.”

“I…” You’re not sure what to say. “Um… Why… why are you telling me this now?” you ask, and Des grins. “Wanted to see how guilty you’d be.” You frown, confused, and echo, “Guilty?” Des nods, looking almost smug. “Most people are guilty when their lie’s found out. They’re even guiltier when they realize the old man they’ve been lying to has known since the start.”

“We’re not… lying to you…” It sounds even lamer out loud than in your head.

Des hums. “Course you’re not.” He pats you on the back and clears his throat, turning away. “I’m going out, now. It’ll be for a while. Don’t hurt him anymore, thanks.” He disappears down the steps, and you squeeze your eyes shut. Guilty, yes, and embarrassed.

Whoops.

You open the door and see Harry on the bed, an ice pack on his face.

“You look like shit,” you say.

“So do you,” he replies without looking at you. “At least I have an excuse.”

“Ooh, wasn’t expecting that one,” you tell him, walking closer. “None of the ‘you should see the other guy,’ huh?” He turns to glare at you, and you grimace at the black and blue around his eye. “Ouch,” you murmur.

“Yeah.”

“I’m supposed to be the one getting beat up,” you say softly, and you’re pushing a curl out of his face before you can stop yourself. “You’re too pretty to get your face smashed in.” Harry rolls his eyes and turns away again.

You lean down, impulsively - you’re not thinking today, apparently - and start to kiss his hand, resting on his stomach. He winces, pulling away, and you see his knuckles are bruised. “That hurts,” he says.

“Sorry, sorry,” you say, and go for his cheek -

He hisses your name and bites out, “That hurts too.”

“Well, Christ, Styles,” you scoff, “where doesn’t it hurt?”

He glances at you, a flicker in those green eyes, and points to his temple. “There’s not too bad,” he mumbles. You have to bite back a grin. “Alright,” you say, and you press your lips to his skin. His eyes flutter shut.

“And… and here’s not awful.” He points to his jaw almost grudgingly, and a bit of a laugh slips out of your lips as you pepper a kiss across his jaw, over his chin, and then pull away. He opens his eyes at the loss of contact, pouting a bit.

“How ‘bout here,” he whispers, and he points to his lips.

“You’re a bastard,” you whisper back, and then you kiss him.

Suddenly he’s better, because he’s smiling and reaching up behind your neck to gently pull you closer. Then he’s sitting up, onto his elbow, his hand nudging you as if he wants you to get on top of him.

“Thought everything hurt,” you murmur, complying anyway.

Harry shrugs, smiling more, and says,“The medicine just set in.”

“I hate you,” you tell him.

He sighs, sounding happy, and kisses you deeper. “The feeling,” he says, “is mutual.”

***

His name is Charlie. The bartender. It says it right on his little gold name tag, which blinds you every few seconds when the light hits it just right. He’s pretty nice. You’re getting drinks for yourself and for Harry, who’s supposed to meet you in a few minutes. He’ll probably be late.

“Come here often?” Charlie asks, breaking you out of your thoughts.

You raise a brow. “Yeah. Yet somehow I’m still surprised at how unoriginal you are.”

Charlie laughs, sliding your drink across the counter and getting started on Harry’s. “Oh, no, no, I just meant… I feel like I’ve seen you around.” You give a neutral hum in reply, swirling the ice in your drink around.

And then you hear your name called from behind you, and you feel yourself smile as you turn around and see Harry walking in, waving at you. He’s not late. How nice. “Hey, you’re with Harry?” Charlie asks, sounding surprised, and your smile drops to a frown as you remember he’s still there.

“Yup.”

“Wow,” Charlie says under his breath, his back to you as he mixes Harry’s drink, “he sure goes through dates fast…” Your brows jump. “Excuse me?” Charlie turns around. He looks stunned. Slowly, he hands the drink to you. “Um… Nothing. Sorry.”

“Did you see him here with someone else?” you ask, regretting it immediately.

“Yeah, just last week,” Charlie replies. He makes a face. “They were all over each other.” And from the next expression that floods his features, he, too, regrets his words immediately after they leave his lips. “But, uh - that’s not my business!” he says hurriedly. “That has nothing to do with me. Okay! Well, enjoy your drinks.”

He walks away just as Harry comes up behind you.

“Well, hello,” he says softly, lips feathering against your ear.

“Hey,” you say, handing him his drink.

Your tone is a bit sharp, and Harry pulls away a bit. “Thanks,” he says. “Er… you alright?”

“I’m fine. So is, uh, Charlie here.” You point at Charlie’s receding figure.

“Yeah?” Harry says, an amused smile curving his mouth as he takes a sip of his drink.

You clear your throat, fiddling with your glass. “We were just talking about you.”

His smirk is so handsome. And irritating. Right on the line between the choices of kiss him and smack him. “Oh?” he says. “All good things, I hope?” You shrug, letting your gaze drift around the room. “Not necessarily. He, uh… he said you came here last week with someone else.”

The smirk disappears. He looks down, coughs slightly. “Said that, did he?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, patting him on the chest. “Yeah, yeah he did say that. And now, I’m saying that, uh… that you’re drinking alone. I’ll see you around, Styles.” You walk away, just the slightest bit of anger seeping through your skin.

***

Antsy. Antsy, antsy, antsy.

The fan is spinning.

That damn fan.

You can’t look at it anymore. You roll out of bed, put on some clothes. No sweatshirt, no pants, just shorts and an athletic top. It is freezing fucking cold outside, you realize with a grimace, which isn’t new information but somehow still surprises you.

Soon you’re running, slowly, jogging, and already you feel better.

Really, you shouldn’t be upset. That’s what keeps spinning around your head. You shouldn’t be upset. You should’ve expected this. You did expect this. Obviously he was sleeping with other people. He’d been honest about it from the start.

Regret, anger, misery. Turn it into money. A little cash, a little pain, a little gain. You’re filled with regret as soon as you step inside. People notice you and look startled, and then expectant. They seem to close in on you.

You’ll fight tonight, right? Give it a good show? There’s a new kid in town, better show ‘em who’s boss - don’t lose your throne, rookie - c’mon, prove Des doesn’t train losers - does he? Does he? Are you? A loser? Gone soft, have you? Are you ready? Ready to go?

And brrrring, you’re off.

It feels so good. You’re so numb it doesn’t even hurt. It’ll probably hurt later, though, and you’ll probably regret it, but not now. Now you’re just happy, grinning through the blood, probably looking psychotic.

It’s unmatched, this adrenaline rush. Can’t get it anywhere else.

Well, maybe -

Bang. Right to the nose. Damn, that hurts, but losing hurts more - one, two, three, around the back, pull, pull, make it hurt, like they hurt you, like he hurt you, fuck it hurts so bad, and…

And we have a winner!

Outside, it is so, so cold.

***

Cleaning yourself up is therapeutic.

It doesn’t happen until the next morning, but it’s pleasant.

You miss your session with Des.

***

You spend a lot of time at the park. At the library. Anywhere but your apartment, where he can find you. You ignore his calls. You change his ringtone so you can bop along to the song while you let it ring out.

When you go to the gym at one in the morning, about a week later, you actually look a little worse than you first did. Less bloody, less fresh, less swelling but more black and blue around your eye and cheek.

Harry bolts up when he sees you. He starts to step forward, then hesitates. He hovers by the alcove where he reads, glowing like an angel from the light behind him. He looks so nervous.

“You look awful,” he says softly.

You clear your throat. “Thanks.”

“I was worried. We were both worried.”

“Yeah. Sorry about that.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then Harry sets his book down. The nervousness fades away, and he leans against the wall next to him, leveling your gaze as he crosses his arms across his chest.

“You fought again,” he says.

“I did.”

“Because of me?”

You look at him, sensing a shift in the air. “What am I supposed to say?”

“The truth.”

“You’ve got quite the head if you expect me to say yes.”

“And you’ve got quite the nerve if you expect me to believe no.”

“You just think the sun revolves around you, don’t you, Styles?” you ask with a scowl.

“Who’s to say it doesn’t?”

“Christ,” you mutter. You huff a sigh, breaking eye contact and turning away.

He lets the quiet loom for a moment, probably basking in it, and then says, “You’re upset about the bar, aren’t you.” He doesn’t even phrase it like a question. “I’m not upset,” you reply under your breath. “I’m not even surprised.”

“Good.”

“Yeah?” you say tersely, meeting his eyes again. “You’re pleased by that?”

He shrugs. “Yeah. You know why?” Finally, a bit of venom creeps into his words. Part of you is relieved to hear some sort of feeling in what he’s saying. “Because I’m allowed to do that, to go on a date. This isn’t a relationship. I can fuck other people, you can fuck whoever the hell you want.”

“Have you?”

Harry frowns some more. “I just told you I did.”

“Before that.”

He opens his mouth - and then closes it. “Have you?”

You can’t help but smirk a little bit. “No.”

“Well, you could’ve. You can. It’s not a rule.”

“Maybe it should be.”

Your words hang in the air for a second, and you can see Harry turning them over in his head. His eyes bounce between yours, mouth set in a hard line. “We’re not dating,” he says lowly. “I hope you get that. We’re not together.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because I don’t date.”

“Except for the one last week.”

His jaw clenches, and he turns away from you. “That doesn’t count.”

“How come?”

“Because -” He huffs a sigh, running a hand through his hair. “Christ. I don’t know.”

“Wrong answer, Styles.”

“I don’t know,” he repeats irritatedly.

“Er,” you say, imitating a buzzer. “Still wrong.”

“Fine,” he practically growls, turning on you. “Because I was only getting over you.”

You smile coolly, ignoring your racing heartbeat. “Ding, ding, ding.”

Harry shakes his head, turning away again. “I can’t do this.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Yes,” he sighs, “I do.”

You raise a brow. “And, uh, Harry,” you say, “why’s that?”

He glances at you. A million different emotions flash across his face, echoing in his eyes, in your heart. And then, suddenly, his features soften. “You know why,” he murmurs, and your brows jump.

You blink at him, startled. “What?”

“Yeah,” Harry says, biting his lip as he takes a small step towards you. “You know why.”

You shake your head, backing up slightly. “I - I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“C’mon,” he murmurs, closing the distance. “Gonna make me say it? Gonna make me spell it out?” You watch him, hold his gaze, look into his eyes, and your breath catches in your throat as you start to understand.

“Yeah,” you tell him a bit breathlessly. “Yeah, I’m gonna make you spell it out.”

“I,” he starts, and now you’re taking a half step towards him, “l… i… k… e… y… o… u…”

You can’t help the smile that breaks across your face. “You’re a good speller.”

“A lot,” he adds.

“And now, uh… Now put it all together for me,” you say, milking it.

“I like you,” he whispers, so close now. “I like you a lot.”

“I like you, too,” you admit.

He traces his finger against your cheek, so, so gently. Your eyes close at the contact.

“You’ll break my heart,” he says, leaning in.

“Not if -” You’re having trouble speaking. “Not if you don’t let me.”

He’s speaking almost against your lips now. “As if I’ll have any say in the matter.”

You open your eyes, smiling just barely. “I’ll be nice.”

“You could never.”

His eyes are so, so green. “You’d be surprised.”

His finger slides under your chin and he gently presses up. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Your eyelids flutter shut. “I’m anything but predictable,” you whisper.

He doesn’t reply, just kisses you, and you smile against his lips.

Maybe things will work out after all.

***

la fin 💜

i wrote this FAST haha like in a day or two but lemme tell you i've never felt this way about anything else i've written... like obvi i don't post things i hate slkdfj but like i LOVE this fic. not to sound narcissistic lmao but i'm so in love w this fic it's insane. that being said some feedback would literally make my entire day!!! week!!! life!!!!

anyway thank you for reading ily <3

masterlist | ask

[uvobreakmylegs]

Retrieval

I just wanted to write some gross shit sorry

Warnings: graphic depictions of violence, death, graphic imagery, gore, blood, degradation, threats of violence

A trio of very intoxicated men stumbled out of the front door of the bar followed by you. You held the door open for a second as you called out to the men to have a good night and to come back soon, but before you could give any of them a chance to respond you had shut the door and locked it, the bell on the door jingling above you. Maybe you weren't being too subtle about wanting them to leave already so you and your coworker could clean up the place, but at the moment you couldn't say you cared too much. It was after midnight and you wanted to go home.

Your coworker, Corey, chuckled at you from the entryway to the kitchen.

“Not very professional of you.”

“Because people like that are coming to a sports bar for professionalism and not to get drunk off of their asses,” you answered, grabbing a bucket and rag to begin with wiping down the tables.

“It's on you if they call back to complain,” he teased.

You laughed.

“Like any of them will be able to remember when they wake up tomorrow.”

“Guess you got a point there.”

You hummed in agreement, wiping down the wooden seats of the chairs before glancing back to him; Corey was still standing in the doorway, checking something on his phone.

“Are you going to clean up back there or are you expecting me to do it for you?” you teased him.

Corey held up his hands in mock surrender before he disappeared back to the kitchen.

The small sports bar you worked at always got pretty messy, both inside the kitchen and out. Food crumbs, wet stains from spilled drinks and small things like loose change, wads of gum and people's small personal items littered the dark carpeted floor. The tables and chairs were usually in a similar state in terms of the food and drink residue. At least you had never needed to clean the bathrooms.

Moving from table to table, you would wipe the surfaces clean, letting the mess on top fall to the floor before you set the chairs upside down on top of the table. Whatever had ended up on the floor you'd get with the vacuum later. It was time consuming and monotonous, but there was a weird part of you that got a certain satisfaction of being able to return the dining area back to a clean state, even if it would be all ruined by the next evening.

Even if it was stupid, at least you actually had the freedom to do what you liked no matter how stupid it was.

Corey was playing something on his phone in the kitchen; knowing him, it was probably some new podcast he had gotten into. The noise you could hear from the back was drowned out when you turned on the vacuum cleaner, trying in vain to clean up everything on the floor. You really wished the owners would take the time and money to replace the carpet with some hardwood; it would make cleaning up easier and would just look nicer.

The bar was always last because it wasn't usually that bad and you could get away with a not so thorough job as you tried to finish up before your shift ended. Corey was almost always done with the kitchen at this point and would be ready to mop the floor after you wiped down the counter.

As expected, Corey was waiting in the kitchen doorway with the mop bucket right next to him when you made it to the bar counter.

“Any plans after you get off?” he asked.

“Sleep,” you answered.

“You sure lead an exciting life,” he said jokingly.

“It's going to be after one in the morning soon; what kind of plans could I have?”

“I don't know. Figured maybe you'd have a boyfriend waiting for you or something.”

Boyfriend.

That word brought back some unpleasant memories. Of things you wanted to forget, and what you had run away from all those months ago.

You tried not to show it, but Corey seemed to pick up on the way you tensed at that.

“You okay?” he asked.

“I'm fine,” you told him hastily, “not in the dating scene currently. I needed a break.”

He nodded slowly.

“Gotcha.”

You couldn't say that the two of you were particularly close, having only known each other a little less than a couple of months, but you did appreciate that he understood boundaries. Too many of the older staff were nosy and wanted to know your business, which frequently got on your nerves.

Wiping down the last bit of the bar, you were about to throw the cleaning rag back into its bucket when you both heard a loud banging sound coming from the kitchen.

“What the hell?” said Corey.

“I'll check it; you start mopping out here,” you told him.

He nodded as you brushed past him, your eyes looking about the kitchen as you entered it, trying to find the source of the noise. Setting down the bucket on one of the counters, you made your way to the back when you didn't see anything.

The culprit ended up being a large pan that had somehow fallen off the shelf. Most likely from being stacked incorrectly. That was annoying, since you now needed to wash it off, with it having touched the floor and all.

“Everything okay?” Corey called back to you.

“Yeah. Something fell,” you answered.

The wash you gave the pan was rather haphazard, but as you set it to the side to dry overnight, you figured that if the crew in the morning had an issue with it, they could clean it again. Right now you were five minutes away from clocking out and you wanted to get out on time.

“We're all good out here,” Corey's voice called again.

You were about to answer him when you noticed the bucket you had brought in, and when you ran over to dump the water out, you noticed the rag was missing.

“Ah shit.”

You'd left it on the bar counter, didn't you?

You had indeed managed to do that, and you slipped past Corey, standing on your toes and propping an arm on the bar counter as you reached for the rag.

“Could you maybe not step on my clean floors?”

“Sorry,” you called back, “need to grab something.”

Pulling the rag off of the counter by its tattered edge, you pushed off the counter a bit as you moved back to get off of the wet floor.

Somehow, you slipped. You felt your feet slipping against the wet tile as you fell backwards, and you had only seconds to try and brace for impact.

You hit something, but it wasn't the floor.

Corey had moved behind and grabbed you just in time. He held you like that for a moment so you could adjust your footing and stand up properly.

It was then you both realized that, in his efforts to save you from a nasty fall, one of his hands had accidentally ended up grabbing ahold of your breast, and he was currently groping you.

“Fuck I am so sorry!” he exclaimed, pulling his hands away the second you righted yourself.

“It's okay,” you answered. It came out a bit shaky, though that was mostly due to you almost falling.

“I swear that was an accident,” Corey continued.

“It's okay,” you insisted, “seriously, it's fine. I prefer that over having my skull break open.”

Corey nodded, but still looked sheepish, a hand coming up to scratch the back of his head while he looked at the floor.

Eager to alleviate this new tension, you wracked your brain for something to say that would get things feeling not so weird again.

“Hey,” you said, “I didn't fall, so at least your floors have been spared from that.”

He chuckled a little bit.

“For the most part. But you still stepped on them in the first place.”

“I forgot I left the rag! Give me a break.”

“I will, if you move so I can re-mop the floor,” he said.

Happy that things seemed to have gone back to normal, you complied, walking back into the kitchen and tossing the rag into a bin. You grabbed the bucket again, hoisting it up to dump the murky contents into the sink.

A loud noise sounded from the dining area, like wood being split apart accompanied by the light tingling of a bell.

It was so unexpected and so noisy even in the kitchen that you jumped, causing you to spill some water onto the floor.

That noise..... Was that the front door? From hearing the bell it sounded like it, but hadn't you locked it?

“Sir,” Corey's voice sounded through the kitchen door, “w-we're closed.”

Corey saying that indicated that someone had come in, but that noise wasn't normal, and you set the bucket back down as you went back to the dining area to investigate.

And how did this person get in? You were certain you had locked that door.

You pushed open the door-

And froze.

Phinks.

He was standing in front of the bar's entrance, the door practically pulled off of it's hinges and hanging open. Bits of the door frame had splintered off from the force he had used to wrench it open and had been scattered on the walkway leading up to it.

But there was no way Phinks gave a shit about that.

The second you opened that door, his eyes were on you.

Rage.

Pure rage radiated from him, a blackened aura you swore you could see that slowly began to fill the empty spaces in the bar, his form stiff and his hands in fists that were clenched so hard that his knuckles had turned white.

Only months ago you had done everything to get away from this man. Now he had found you, and he looked like he was ready to kill.

Corey looked back when you had entered, and immediately noticed your terrified expression.

“You know him?” he asked you.

Words couldn't come out. They just stayed trapped in your throat as you looked between him and Phinks, your breathing becoming short and harsh.

That had told Corey everything, as he stepped in front of you and addressed Phinks firmly.

“Sir, please leave now. We're going to call the police.”

With Corey now in the way, you couldn't see Phinks. But when he spoke for the first time since entering, you could sense just how much angrier he had become at Corey's actions.

“Un-fucking-believable,” he hissed.

Corey turned back, reaching out to you as he said “go call nine-”

Faster than either you or he could even think, Corey was pulled over the bar and brutally thrown across the room, crashing into one of the tables, the wood surface splintering and the chairs on top flying.

“Don't fucking touch her.”

Phinks' attention was on Corey now, and he stepped away from the bar. Corey was groaning and disoriented. There was blood dripping down his face as well as his arm, and he was shaking so violently that he couldn't push himself up off of the floor, instead collapsing over and over again onto the bits of broken table.

Phinks stood before him and reached down to pull him up by the collar of his shirt.

Corey pushed away his arm and stumbled backwards, hitting the edge of another table. You could see his eyes now, and the way he looked at Phinks in terror and confusion.

“Pathetic,” Phinks spat.

The blonde rolled up the sleeve on his right arm, and began to wind that arm in a clockwise motion.

That was familiar, you realized, as a horrible memory was brought back.

A man had tried to cut the strap of your purse as you and Phinks were walking home one night. Phinks had noticed and pulled you out of the way, but not fast enough, and you had ended up with a large gash on your arm.

“You think I'm scared of you?” the man had said when an infuriated Phinks approached him, winding up his arm once, then twice and then three times.

Phinks punched him and the man went flying; across the empty street and into the side of a building. The impact had left a dent in the bricks and the man's blood smeared on the surface as his body slid down onto the pavement.

Your mind had gone hopelessly blank at the sight of that, the wound on your arm you had been nursing forgotten as you stared wide-eyed at your boyfriend, who quickly returned to your side and chided you for taking pressure off of the cut.

“Ph-Ph-Phinks,” you stuttered.

“Yeah?”

“You..... You killed that man.”

Phinks' gaze narrowed.

“What's your point?”

He was going to do it again.

That brought you out of your stupor, and you rushed to the edge of the bar as you yelled out “Phinks! Please! Don't kill him!”

More pleas for Corey's life were about to spill from your lips when he glared back at you, a silent command for you to shut the hell up. That look made you freeze up again, and you stood by helplessly, holding on to the edge of the bar as you watched Corey struggle to stay upright.

That murderous aura that had been around him was now stifling, and it affected Corey to the point that he was having trouble breathing.

You counted at least twenty times that Phinks had rotated his arm, the aura increasing every time he did it.

Phinks glanced back at you again, and rotated once more.

He punched Corey in the face.

And Corey's entire upper half exploded.

His head was completely gone, face caving in on itself where Phinks had punched until it burst out through the back of his skull. His chest and arms were blown to pieces from the impact, the smaller bits of muscle and organs ripping out of him and sticking to the walls while the larger pieces of meat slid down with the copious amounts of blood and collected into the booths below. His lower half that remained mostly intact slumped beneath the table he had been leaning against, the remainder of his insides spilling out onto the floor while one of his legs still twitched. There was a fine red mist in the air over what remained intact, slowly settling down and soaking into the dark carpet.

You couldn't move.

You just stood there, keeping your hold on the edge of the bar, occasionally tensing and untensing your fingers as you looked at the piles of red slush and bone that had been your coworker.

Phinks had already walked away from it, coming towards the bar. But he passed by you, slamming the door to the kitchen open and letting it swing shut as he entered. You could hear movement, the sounds of his shoes scraping on the brick-red tile of the floor, glass clinking, him cursing to himself, a faucet being turned, and a familiar sound of water filling up a small container.

But you still stood there, unable to take your eyes away from the horrific scene. Minutes, no, seconds ago, that had been a person. Corey had friends, family and aspirations. And within a single moment, that person had been reduced to a mangled corpse that would only fill half of a body bag. How would they identify him? Whoever cleaned him up, would they be able to get everything? Or would bits of him be left behind and stay forever buried in the cracks and crevices of the bar?

You had seen Phinks kill before and it had made you sick then, but nothing had ever been anywhere near as terrible as this.

Corey's leg had stopped twitching, but blood that had hit the wall continued to trickle down in small streams.

You heard Phinks let out a loud sigh as a glass slammed against a metal counter top.

“Okay,” he called out, “I think I've calmed down now.”

Those footsteps in the back became louder and the door swung open again. Phinks appeared by your side, and when he gently put a hand on your arm, you finally looked away from Corey.

Phinks opened his mouth to speak, but stopped when he glanced over to the mess he had left.

“... Lets go to the back,” he said after a moment.

He pulled you with him into the kitchen, and you didn't fight him on it. He still looked angry, but it was considerably less than when he had first entered.

Phinks leaned against the rim of the sink, one hand staying on you as you were positioned to stand in front of him.

“Been a while,” he said quietly.

You didn't respond.

He tsked.

“Goddammit. I find you again after months, and now you can't speak because of that asshole out there. Look, I know I overdid it, but after seeing the way that guy touched you I couldn't control myself.”

His eyes narrowed and he continued “why the fuck did you let him get away with touching you like that?”

Somehow, you managed to find your voice.

“I-it.... It was an a-accident.”

Phinks' free hand came up to lightly slap the side of your head. It didn't hurt, but you flinched regardless.

He had used that hand to end Corey's life; he could easily do the same to you.

“Stupid. You actually thought a move like that was accidental? That bastard was taking advantage of you and you were laughing it off.”

That wasn't true. It had been an accident. But instead of volunteering those thoughts, you bit down on your lip as it began to quiver, tears starting to form in your eyes.

“Don't cry. Sorry. I shouldn't have hit you,” he said, his hand going back up to where he hit, softly stroking your hair.

“I'm just so fucking pissed at how gullible you are. What do you think would've happened if someone smarter had tried taking advantage of you? Fuck, some guys wouldn't need to be smarter; they'd just need to be strong enough to pin you down. Do you even realize how many ways you could've been fucked over before I found you? Did you even think about that? Or was that just me, because I'm actually capable of having some fucking sense?”

His hands settled on your shoulders and his grip became tighter.

“I've been stressed out of my mind trying to figure out where the hell you went, how the hell you managed to get away, or what condition you'd be in when I found you. I couldn't find you and I swear I was going insane. And after all that, when I finally manage to track you down, I have to see you letting some piece of trash grope you?”

Those hands slid up until they were around your neck, and his grip became tighter still.

“It would be so easy,” he murmured, “to just snap your neck and be done with it. Then the constant headache I get from worrying about you would go away. If you're going to fight and run away from me than what's the point?

“Maybe it'd be better for me if you were dead.”

It was deathly quiet in that kitchen.

Phinks still held that grip on you, and you were certain he could feel how fast your heart was beating through the pulse in your neck. You stood there, stiff and quiet as he looked you over, thinking to himself.

He really was considering it.

Any wrong move from you, and there would be two corpses to be found in the morning.

After a few painfully silent moments, he sighed again.

“But I think that if I killed you, part of me would die, too. Maybe that sounds stupid, but it's the truth.”

Finally taking his hands off your throat, he pulled you against his chest to embrace you.

“You drive me fucking crazy,” Phinks said, “but I'd be even more miserable if I didn't have you. Does that make sense?”

Your face was pressed against the front of his tracksuit and you found yourself focusing on the patterned colors of white, red and green.

“I've heard it said a lot that being in love means that you also have to suffer,” he continued, “do you think that's true?”

“..... I don't know.”

Your voice was barely above a whisper and was muffled by the way he pressed you against his chest, but he still managed to hear your answer as he actually chuckled, rubbing the top of your head.

“'I don't know'. Big surprise there,” he said sarcastically, “you haven't changed a bit.”

When he pulled you away he was smiling, wiping away your tears with his thumb as he told you “don't cry anymore. I'm taking you home.”

Hearing that only made you want to cry more.

“Go get your bag and anything else you brought in,” he continued, “I already went to your apartment and packed up your stuff there. Once we're done here we can head out.

“We'll be back home before you know it.”

[sckyie]

hey bestie if you're still doing your song series, i was wondering if i could request the song happier by olivia rodrigo with akaashi ?

song: happier - olivia rodrigo

word count: 1.2k

warnings + genre: angst; break-up, just sad vibes throughout to fit the song

pronouns used: she/her

a/n: (◞‸◟；) i haven’t written angst but idk if this was good or not

Everything seemed so perfect. It was almost as if your relationship was the cliché movie. Together for nearly five years now, you had fallen in love with the best person you could've ever met.

The room was filled with the aroma of your cooking. The sunset shining through the window letting the warmth of the day in as it fades into night. You had your favorite playlist playing as you danced around the kitchen.

You carefully finished plating your dinner for you and your boyfriend as you heard the front door open. "I'm home," Akaashi sighed. You smiled as you approached the door to greet him.

"Hi baby, I made dinner," You gleamed.

"I'm not hungry," Akaashi dismissed. With a small frown, you attempt to try again.

"Well, maybe you could just try a little bit? I spent all day cooking us dinner and-" You rambled.

"We need to talk," He cuts you off, looking at you with tired eyes. A sting in your chest rung after hearing those words.

"What's wrong Keiji?" You tilted your head stepping closer, reaching out to touch his chest. He takes a step back before scratching the back of his neck. "Oh..."

"I just...think we should..." Akaashi trailed.

"Should?" You held your hands together, itching for some type of contact.

"We should break up," He said, ripping off the bandaid. Your eyes widened at his voice, not wanting to know why.

"B- but we're fine- why?" You started. "Am I doing too much? Did I do something wrong? Keiji, I can do better- Just why do you-"

"It's not you," He stopped you. "I..."

You felt the tears run down your cheeks. His hand reaches to wipe them off but retracts knowing it's for the better. "But...I thought you loved me?" You sobbed silently.

"There will always be love for you in my heart, I promise, Y/n," He explained. His heart was beginning to ache at the sight of your cries. Akaashi hated seeing you hurt, even more so if he was the cause. "I...I'm falling in love with someone else. I can't put you in a situation where I'm in love with another when I'm with you...I'm sorry."

You remained quiet as Akaashi rambled on trying to explain himself. Words of not wanting to hurt you laced with apologies of finding another. Suddenly the streetlights now illuminating through the blinds were the only thing you could see.

Akaashi dragged on his apologies to you, almost as if it's a chant. He observed how you had fallen silent and tried to reach out for comfort. You looked up at him before looking around the room. Dinner was getting cold, your anniversary photos meaning nothing now and where you stood was where he promised to marry you one day.

"I...I'll get my things out by the end of the week," Your voice cracked. Akaashi stopped his repeated sorry's, his eyes carefully watching you.

"W-wait, y-you're leaving? Y/n, I can leave, it's not your fault. I-" Akaashi started. He watched you walk past him, grabbing your car keys. You slipped on your shoes without a word before turning to leave. Your hand froze at the doorknob as you hesitated to leave. Wiping away your tears, you grabbed the handle, pulling open the door to walk out.

It's been nearly a month since it happened. You had sat at the window seat of the café with your laptop open to your work schedule. You let out a sigh wanting to take a break from the screen. Peering outside you noticed a familiar face. A hyper pro-athlete bouncing around his old third-year friends. You smiled at the sight of Bokuto, wanting to go out and say hi until you saw them.

Akaashi had walked hand in hand with his new girlfriend, smiling bigger than you've ever seen him before. The grin on your face fell taking notice of every bit of his new partner. Picking her apart as if it were a science experiment.

"Damn, that's her?" Your work husband, Souma, says breaking you out of your thoughts.

"Huh?" You say, grabbing the drink out of his hand.

"The girl your ex replaced you with," He said bluntly. You reached beside you and pinched his nose before turning to look back at her. "She's pretty."

"She is...I bet she's nice too," You huffed. You looked back at your laptop, clicking out the tab. "Okay, back to work."

"You do know you're not fooling anyone," Souma leaned over to rest his head on your shoulder. "You can be sad, it's only been a month."

"Yes, I know. I am sad but...I have to be strong right?" You sighed. "He's probably really happy. That's what I want for him."

"But not happier than with you, hm?" He pokes.

"What?" You ask, not peeling your eyes from the screen.

"You know, when you were together, you'd say some eternal love bullshit," He mocked. "What happened to he's the one person who makes you have butterflies in your stomach? And if we ever broke up you'd never recover? That kinda shit."

"He was the one who said shit like that first of all. I guess he never meant it. Souma, can we please stop talking about it?" You started to type out your report. "Yeah, yeah, I'm heartbroken but this project is due tomorrow."

"Okay whatever you say, Ms. Shattered Heart," He lifts up his hands in fake surrender before leaning back into your ear. "Oh, by the way, he's coming into the café." He whispered.

Your eyes widen before shutting them quickly. You take a deep breath, taking the urge to not look at the door. Souma shrugs, wanting to see a bigger reaction before opening his own laptop.

Bokuto leads Konoha, Komi, Akaashi and his girlfriend to the line of the café. "So then, Atsumu ended up- Oh? Y/n!" Bokuto stops his story noticing the back of your head. He steps out of line to tap your shoulder.

"Oh, hi Bo," You turned slowly. "Good to see you...You guys too." You gestured towards the group. Akaashi's previous smile fell once he saw you.

"How are you?" Bo smiled. It took a beat for him to realize how awkward the situation was, making his grin fade.

"Good, good...How are you guys?" You cringed.

"We're...okay," Akaashi said, softly. His eyes took notice of how different you looked. Darker circles under your eyes, your hair messily done compared to your usual do, and just how tired you looked. Almost as if you gave up on taking care of yourself.

"Y/n and I were just leaving-" Souma interrupted. He noticed your hand grip tightly on your chair before speaking up. He closes both your laptops and goes to put them away in his bag. "It was nice seeing you guys, but Y/n and I have some work to do."

You hesitated but nodded along with your coworker as you grabbed your coffee. You gestured to the group once getting out of your seat. The two of you quickly walked out, Souma guiding you to his parked car.

Akaashi's girlfriend excused herself to the restroom, giving him an opportunity. He exits the café, jogging over to you and Souma. "I'm sorry," He pants, stopping a few feet away from you. "Y/n, I'm sorry."

No words left your mouth as you looked up at him. Tears had already fallen from your eyes the second you walked out. Akaashi's chest ached to see you in this state. "Forgive me, I- I'm sorry for hurting you," He begged.

"Take care of her, okay?" You smiled, your heart is torn into pieces once again. "Make her happy."

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