#please read these you will not be disappointed | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

stylesharrys · 3 days

Text

The Box | Part One [Boxerry]

When Y/N’s brother dies unexpectedly, Harry breaks the news that she now owns an illegal underground fight club. While she wants nothing to do with that lifestyle, Harry is determined to not let her brother's dream die with him.

A/N: so this was the Patreon exclusive series that I decided to bring over here to share with you guys. I wanted to turn it into one long fic for you guys but it was over the block limit so I've had to split it into two parts. It’s still a hefty one so grab some snacks and get comfy, and please be sure to read through the warnings before continuing <3

Warnings: (in no particular order, for both chapters) mentions of death/loss of a sibling and grandparent, mentions of miscarriage, unsupportive parents, swearing, brief descriptions of illegal fighting, money laundering, use of weapons, brief mentions of alcohol, mentions of anxiety, schizophrenia and multiple personality disorder, smut; kissing, teasing, dirty talk, fingering, protected sex, oral (both receiving/69)

WC: 19.6k

In her 24 years of life, Y/N has only ever been to two funerals. Her first was when she was twelve, to the funeral of her great grandmother. Given, she didn’t know exactly what was happening, but she understood enough. She cried the entire time.

The second funeral she attended was her aunts. Just five years ago when she died in a freak car crash that killed twelve innocent people. Y/N was nineteen, fresh out of school and ready to start her new job, almost putting her deposit down on her new flat. She cried the entire time.

And now, at age 24, she stands at her brother's grave. The same brother that taught her to tie her shoes, that saved her from playground bullies. The brother that helped her move into her flat, that checked in on her when she wouldn’t eat for days while under the stress of their parents. The brother that comforted her after bad breakups, that taught her to fight and defend herself. The brother that risked and sacrificed so much, to give her the life she deserves because her parents labelled her a castaway.

She was the family disappointment because she didn't have her life figured out. Because she took up a job caring for the elderly, opposed to following in her mother’s footsteps and becoming a successful surgeon, or basking in her father's shadow of his worldwide corporations.

Both her mother and father standoff to her side, sniffling back tears of heartache as they comfort one another. Y/N won’t allow herself to mourn for her best friend with them. She won’t let them see her broken and ruined for her brother. Not for them to scold her, to tell her to pick her chin up and stop acting like a child.

She holds it all in as the rest of the funeral party disperse. It’s a fairly large turnout, even if Y/N and her parents don’t know or recognise half the mourners there. They told Y/N they knew him from the fights. Y/N told her parents they knew him from the docks. Even dead, his secret is safe with her.

Her cheeks are damp but not from tears. The wind has been lashing against her body for the past hour of the service and her eyes are still stinging. She doesn’t have to look in the mirror to know that her nose is angrily leaking, or that her eyes look awfully bloodshot.

She continues to hover at her brother’s grave, hoping maybe her parents will fuck off and let her have this moment alone. They don’t. They stand behind her, a few feet away, eyes on their daughter like hawks. Like she’s the unstable one. She has to scoff to herself.

Y/N lets her eyes run over his burial once more. Sammy Y/L/N. A loving son, brother and friend. She promises she’ll come back later, when their overbearing parents aren’t breathing down her neck and she thinks she knows exactly what Sam would say to her.

“Don’t say anything stupid. This is my day, remember.”

She has to fight back the teary smile that tugs on her lips and she turns around to her parents. Her hands are shoved in her coat pocket, shoulders hunched up to offer some form of protection to her ears against the lashing winds.

David reaches for her first, arm outstretched to coddle his daughter to his side. Y/N lets him — needs that comfort today even if it is just from her father. He kisses the top of her head, his wife, Layla, coddling in his other side and David feels a little relief, having both his girls on his arm.

“I hope you’re going to stay for the wake,” David asks softly. Y/N doesn’t miss the huff that slips from her mother's lips and she knows her dad has no doubt just pinched her shoulder because of it. She isn’t going to let them get her down, especially not today.

She nods. “I am.”

When they return to Y/N’s childhood home, she feels sick. She hasn’t been back here in almost four years and the last time she did, she got into an argument with her parents and Sam was the one to take her home and spend the weekend to make sure she was okay.

This time, she’s there because of him and he isn’t there to save her.

Nothing has changed. It’s still the same slightly outdated furniture but she can tell Layla got David to re-wallpaper the lounge. It’s quite busy, if she’s being honest, and Y/N’s feeling a little exhausted in preparation of cleaning up any little slip of the tongues these randoms let out.

The buffet has already been tucked into, Y/N’s grandparents having set out a lovely spread of Sam’s favourite finger foods from when he was younger. It’s solemn and quiet, save for the small bits of chatter between mourners and Y/N feels more than a little lost.

She’s shrugging her coat off and throwing it over the sofa, rubbing her hands together to get some friction of warmth back in her blood. The house is full of more unknown faces than it is with friends and family. They seem to keep to themselves in a separate part of the house and as much as Y/N wants to avoid them, intimidated and somewhat uncomfortable, she sucks it up and shimmies over with a tray of canapes.

The closer she gets, the less unfamiliar they look. She notices a couple of them, some faces she saw when Sam would pick her up from a failing date, or when she would go to his place for lunch and they would be just leaving. They’re all quite stoic, the seven of them and she clears her throat, a small, tight-lipped smile on her face.

The men part just enough to open their circle to her and she’s faced with tall figures and broad shoulders. In her small glory, she has to raise her chin to meet their gaze and she offers up the tray of finger food close to her chest.

“Um, thank you for coming. Sam would’ve appreciated it,” she mumbles the words Layla had been drilling in her head all morning.

They don’t say anything and Y/N lets out a shaky breath. “I take it you knew him from the fights?” She doesn’t miss the way their eyes widen slightly and two of the seven shift a little in their spot.

She laughs breathily. “It’s alright. My brother was my best friend, I knew about it all. Our parents still don’t, though. So I’d appreciate it if it stayed that way. They don’t need to know what he was really doing when he said he was at work.”

A few nod but she’s too busy staring at her feet to notice it. “So you’re Y/N?” A timid voice perks up and Y/N snaps her gaze to the tall blond directly opposite her. She nods shyly, eyes heavy and shoulders sagged.

The blond nods again. “Spoke about ya a lot, he did. Always said if anything happened to him, it was us that had to look out for ya,” he smiles sadly and Y/N really can’t help the tears that pool in her eyes. Typical Sam. Always looking out for his baby sister, even from the dead.

Her eyes rake over the group, some too solemn to make eye contact and others staring at their drinks. But the man to her right doesn’t look away from her face. His bright green eyes are captivating, to say the least, his broad shoulders making his 6ft frame even larger than it is and his wispy brown hair is barely styled but it sits well in a central parting, swooping just a little across the sides of his temples. From where she stands, his jaw and chin are a little stubbly, lips pink and a little damp from his drink.

He looks familiar, Y/N thinks she might’ve seen him in a few fight photos Sam had shown her before, and she can’t tell if he recognises her or not. Though, if she did see a picture of him before, she’s sure he would be in boxing shorts and a tight t-shirt, not a slick black suit with a white shirt and tie. He makes no effort to break the intense gaze he’s offering, so Y/N does. She wills herself to look away and scratches nervously at the side of her neck.

“Well, thank you again for coming. It means a lot.”

It was supposed to be an easy day. She had planned for a small arts and crafts session for the residents and some tea and sandwiches after. Y/N loved planning activities, it usually gave the other staff a chance to take a break or catch up on their paperwork.

But Dylan had a funny moment that resulted in a gloopy paint bottle being chucked at her head and she’s leaving work sporting a cut on her forehead and a three-hour-old migraine. She isn’t even leaving work at 3, like she usually would.

She’s coming out of the home at 6 because upon Dylan’s behaviour, he tore up the rest of the group's paintings and broke one of the staff laptops — resulting in two and half hours spent calming him down, administering PRN and writing up several incident reports.

She’s tired, she’s hungry and she just wants to sit down. It’s cold out, the sky thickening black above her and she knows a storm is due. She quite likes a storm, if she’s honest — just doesn’t much like to drive in them.

She’s rubbing out a kink in her neck as she approaches her car, eyes too busy rolled back as she walks blindly. Y/N sees the feet first — a pair of Adidas trainers — then her eyes trail up a pair of toned legs that are adorned in a pair of shorts. Her brows are pinched and she looks up some more, notices the man leaning on the bonnet of her car and his toned arms are folded over his chest.

It’s when she cranes her neck up a little to see his face that her worry is softly eased a little, but not entirely. She remembers him from her brother's funeral three weeks ago.

“Can I help you?” She asks, voice a little throaty and scratchy.

He’s got a baseball cap on his head, longish brown hair curling around the rim of it and his ears. His eyes are a little squinted and there’s a heavy stubble that decorates his jaw and chin. Y/N thinks he looks much more intimidating in this attire, opposed to the suit she last saw him in.

He drinks her in before he speaks. She’s wearing a pair of boyfriend jeans and a knitted jumper, and her hair is half plaited up, the rest falling into natural waves down her back. He thinks she looks quite pretty for an elderly support worker.

“I’m Harry. I used to box with your brother.”

She nods, biting at her inner cheek. “Figured that when no one recognised you or your friends at the wake.” She squints at him again, scratching at her sore neck. “Look I don’t mean to be rude, but what do you want? How do you even know I work here?” Her tone holds more accusation as she rambles on and Harry can’t help a somewhat amused smile tug on the corners of his mouth.

He shrugs. “I have my ways.” His arms are still crossed over his chest but he didn’t answer Y/N’s first question. She raises a brow and Harry inhales heavily before his shoulders sag and he drops his arms to his side. “I need t’ talk to ya about the club.”

Her brows are pinched harder than before and she shakes her head in confusion, shifting from one foot to the other. “Club? What club?” Her movement allows Harry to see the cut on her smooth forehead and he frowns, reaching closer to inspect it but Y/N’s too quick and with wide eyes, she backs away.

He realises his forwardness and holds his hands up in surrender; standing straighter. “The underground club. Y’know… the one your brother left to you when he died.” She blinks again, lips parting and she’s blubbering a little like she’s trying to understand what he’s talking about.

Realisation is quick to wash over Harry’s face and he nods. Of course Sam wouldn’t tell her anything about what she’d be taking over. Typical.

She takes a deep breath. “Why the fuck would I be left an underground fight club by my brother? He was just a boxer,” she sighs tiredly, punching the bridge of her nose and Harry frowns harder. So maybe she didn’t really know anything about him.

He shakes his head. “Your brother wasn’t just a fighter, Y/N. He owned the club. Sam was the best fighter we had in The Box and he bought it outright five years ago. Always said if anything happened to him, you’d be the one to take it over, do whatever you think best wi’ it.”

Y/N is silent, tears welling in her eyes and she stomps her foot like an insolent child, like she can’t believe this is fucking happening. “You’re telling me I now own an illegal underground boxing club?” Her voice is frantic, high-pitched and whispered through gritted teeth.

Her hands find their way to her hair, gripping on her roots in disbelief. “It’s a good business investment, if you're into that.” He shrugs, arms crossed over his chest again and he’s struggling to understand why she’s so worked up about it.

If Harry had just inherited a three quarters of a million pound business, he’d be fucking ecstatic. But Y/N isn’t ecstatic and she’s staring at him in complete bewilderment.

“No, Harry. No, I’m not into that. Sell it, give it away, I don’t care. I don’t want it.” She shoves past him, unlocking her car and opening the door. Harry’s watching with wide eyes and parted lips.

She can’t be serious.

He closes the door before she can fully open it and she seethes up at him, teeth gritted and all. “You can’t give it away and you can’t sell it! It’s your brother's life.” He fights back and Y/N bursts, veins popping and she pushes him away by his chest.

“And I can’t fucking keep it! I’m a care worker, for God’s sake! I can’t have shit like that tied to me.” Her hands are waving sporadically, chest heaving in panic as she rips her door open and clambers in the car.

Harry’s gripping onto the door, preventing her from shutting it. He never meant to show up and send her in a spiral of anger and panic. Harry digs into his pocket, pulling out a little business card and handing it to her, waiting for her to take it.

“Look, jus’... jus’ sleep on it, yeah? My number and the club's address is on this, jus’ take it ‘n think about it. Please.”

She eyes the card sceptically, gnawing on her inner cheek. She knows he’s right, that she shouldn’t ruin her brother's legacy with one shitty, selfish decision she makes. But she also knows that she’s right — that she can’t afford to have that kind of business in her name.

Y/N looks back up at Harry, lets her heart flutter a little under his gaze despite knowing these are awful circumstances to get butterflies under. But she sees the desperation in his eyes and she supposes maybe it’s because he wants Sam’s life to carry on through the business.

She takes the card and drives off.

“Why haven’t you been to see your brother?”

Y/N closes her eyes for a moment, struggles to keep herself in check. It’s been a long day and the last she needs is her mother chastising her on her break.

“Because I’ve been working double shifts all week, Mum.”

She hears her mother huff from the other end of the line, no doubt rolling her eyes.

God, why did Sam have to leave her all alone in this godforsaken world? Why did he have to get in that fucking car?

Deciding that Y/N does not want to be spending the last few hours of her shift fighting back tears, she cuts her mother off before she can think of anything else to question her on.

“Look, I’ve got to go. Meds round is in the next half hour so I need to get things sorted.”

The line is cut off as quickly as she speaks. Y/N tries not to get too into her head about her mother. About the lack of compassion the woman has shown her during both childhood and now, early adulthood.

If she allows her mind to wander down that path, she’s not sure she’ll ever find the exit.

She leaves the office after allowing herself a moment to compose herself. Across from her, the little light above ROOM 13 flashes and she smiles to herself.

She’s outside the door within seconds, knocking softly before letting herself in. “It’s Y/N… are you okay, Mary?”

The elderly woman sits in her chair, a ball of wool in her lap as she continues knitting. There’s a childlike grin on her lips, eyes full of excitement as she stares at her favourite carer.

“I didn’t think you worked Mondays!”

Y/N laughs, taking a seat next to her. She takes it upon herself to unravel a little more string for her.

“I don’t. I’m covering for Frankie. I should’ve come and said hello sooner, it’s just been a bit busy today, Mary. I hope you can forgive me.”

Mary smiles broadly, nudging Y/N with her elbow. “You know you’ll always be my favourite, Penny.”

She smiles at the nickname. Mary has called her that since her first day at the home all those years ago – when Y/N gave her a penny from her purse for her scratch card and she won the jackpot. That was it. Y/N was Mary’s lucky penny.

“How are you feeling today?”

Mary hums. “Oh, I feel so wonderful. My grandson is coming to visit today. And as far as I can remember... you’re still single, aren’t you?”

Y/N rolls her eyes playfully with a huff. “You’re not setting me up with your grandson, Mary.”

She pouts, unhappy. “Why not? He’s a handsome lad and you’re very beautiful. You’d make such gorgeous great grandbabies for me!”

Y/N almost chokes on her tongue, blinking fast as she tries to catch her breath. “Mary!”

“What? It’s not like I’m getting any younger!”

She can’t quite believe her ears. Mary has talked about her grandson a few times, but she’s never once alluded to setting him and Y/N up. She does not need her patient getting involved in her love life.

“He’s a handsome young man, your age… maybe a couple years older. And he’s a personal trainer! Even runs the gym he works at!”

Y/N pinches the bridge of her nose, eyes closed. She’s wondering if she’s got enough time to escape the building before her grandson arrives. She wouldn’t put it past Mary to scour the entire home for her.

“Oh, really?” she asks, playing into it for Mary’s sake.

She grins as she nods, looking back down to her knitting.

“And what’s his name?” Y/N asks, fiddling with the yarn between her fingers.

Mary gasps. “Harry!”

Y/N eyes widen at the volume of her voice, looking at Mary, who’s looking at the door.

“Hello, Gran.”

Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding.

“Of course it fucking is,” Y/N mumbles under her breath.

She stands, plastering a kind smile across her lips. Harry sees right through it, hiding his own smirk as he takes her in. Her attire is completely different from when he saw her last week.

Her hair is a bit shorter, and instead of her jumper and jeans, she’s wearing a pair of black leggings and a purple nurses shirt.

“Nice to meet you, Harry.” She extends a hand to him politely, which he more than happily takes.

He can see how much this pains her.

Mary clears her throat. “Harry this is Y/N… but I like to call her Penny.”

He raises a brow, looking between his Gran and Y/N.

“Oh, so this is Penny?” He looks at Y/N. “I had no idea you were my Gran’s favourite. She talks about you all the time.”

Y/N smiles through pursed lips, feeling a little embarrassed, though she’s not sure why.

“Thank you for looking after Gran, it’s lovely to meet you, Penny.”

She smiles tightly, nodding her head before quickly combing through her brain for an excuse to leave.

Y/N knows it's only a coincidence that the same man trying to get her to take over her dead brother’s underground fight club is also the same man that is her resident's grandson, but it still makes her head spin a little too much.

“I’ve got to get started on teatime meds. It was lovely to meet you again, Harry.”

She excuses herself as quickly as she can. Walking into the meds room, she feels like this is Sam’s way of forcing her hand. She looks up to the ceiling with a frustrated huff.

“Even from the dead, you’re a pain in my ass.”

A knock on the door makes her jump and as it slowly peels open, her eyebrows furrow. “What are you doing? You can’t be in here!”

Harry closes the door as he shuffles inside, hands up in feign surrender and there’s an apologetic look in his eyes.

“I’m sorry if me being here freaked you out a bit. I only visit Gran on Mondays because Sam never wanted us boys bringing trouble around you. I swear, I didn’t know you’d be working today. You’ve never worked Monday’s.”

Her shoulders slack as she exhales deeply. “He didn’t want you bringing me trouble, and yet he’s the one that left an entire illegal business to me.”

Harry huffs out a laugh.

“If he was secretly loaded, why couldn’t he have just left me some cash instead?”

“Honestly? Because he knew no amount he left you would equate to what you could earn running The Box. He’s only ever looked out for you, you know?”

Y/N scoffs out a laugh, shaking her head as she turns back to her paperwork. “I would’ve preferred it if he left me nothing. If Sam trusted you so much, why can’t you just take it over?”

“Because he didn’t leave it to me.”

“No,” Y/N huffs. “Instead, he left it to his clueless little sister who could really do without the hassle.”

Harry purses his lips shut, stuffing his hands into his pocket. If it weren’t for his bestfriend’s passing, he’d probably bark out a laugh at Y/N’s little strop.

“Look,” he begins. “No one is expecting you to take it over and know what you’re doing. Why else did you think he asked me to talk you through it?”

Y/N turns to him, a little pissed off. “And you couldn’t have started with that?”

She’s starting to feel like she could have a breakdown at any given moment. The last thing she needs is taking over an illegal underground boxing club with her dead brother’s friend showing her the ropes.

“I can’t deal with all of this right now. I need to get this meds round done, so if you don’t mind…” Y/N gestures to the door, her other hand on her hip.

She doesn’t make eye contact, her gaze fixed on the floor beneath her. Harry sighs, nodding more to himself than her as he reaches for the handle.

“You have my number. Don’t be afraid to use it.”

She stays silent as he leaves the meds room, a shaky exhale slipping past her lips as the door closes shut. She feels guilty, for being so snappy and rude. But Y/N isn’t sure how else she was expected to react.

Her big brother dies in a freak car accident, leaves a multi-million pound illegal business in her name and she’s supposed to just be okay about it?

Her heart hurts. For herself, for Sam. God, she misses him. She just wants to wake up from this bad dream and talk to her big brother about her day.

Y/N wonders what he would say to her right now if he could. Would he hug her and tell her it’s okay? Remind her that she doesn’t have to go through with this if she dosn’t want to?

She scoffs to herself. No, Sammy would be selfish. I looked after you, now you need to look after my legacy. She can hear his voice in her head, clear as day. It makes her smile, for a brief moment, before she’s overcome with sadness and anxiety once again.

In all honesty, Y/N needs to get her head out of her ass. If Sam had asked Harry to show her the ropes and help her into this transition, then perhaps she should be taking this a little more seriously.

She rolls her neck, taking a deep breath. She’s back to staring at the ceiling, like somehow it’ll connect her to heaven radio and she has to laugh at herself.

“I hope you’re pleased with yourself up there.”

Y/N stands outside, toes wiggling in her converse as she gnaws on her inner cheek. The building is a tall, dance academy, decked out with the poshest of entrances and Y/N tilts her head to the side. There’s no way in hell this is The Box.

Her squinted eyes flicker back to the card. Not much is on there – an address, Harry’s name, and number. She contemplated calling him before showing up, but she knew if she planned to do this, she would’ve backed out.

So instead, very spontaneously, Y/N drove here right after her shift – not even allowing herself time to rethink or second guess herself.

Gnawing on her bottom lip, she makes her way inside the entrance. It’s quite grand, beautiful even. The ceilings are tall, marble floors. If she’s honest, she feels extremely out of place with her slightly scuffed Converse padding across the ground.

She makes her way to the reception desk tentatively, tapping the business card on the knuckle of her thumb. The blonde woman looks up with a smile, though Y/N’s sure she’s likely judging her in her mind.

“Hi, can I help?” Her voice is soft as she speaks and Y/N clears her throat.

“I’m not sure,” she chuckles nervously. “My name’s Y/N… I’m Sam’s sister. I, uh… I’m looking for Harry?”

The receptionist's smile no longer meets her eyes as it begins to shrink. The look on her face makes Y/N’s stomach twist slightly, her polite smile faltering.

The blonde woman looks at her for a moment – it’s like a flicker of grief passes through her eyes before she quickly composes herself again. She fiddles with something under her desk, retrieving what looks like a key card and handing it to Y/N.

“You’ll be needing this. It’s the first door to your left, just down that hall.” She nods her head over to the other side of the reception and Y/N takes the card with pursed lips and a tight smile.

Nothing can ever describe the fear and anxiety that bubble in her tummy. If she’s being completely honest with herself, she’s terrified of what she’ll see behind that door. What harsh reality of Sam’s life she’ll be privy to.

It’s the closest she’s felt to him since he passed, and yet she’s never felt so distant in her entire life.

Behind the door, is a set of stairs. They lead to an extremely large expanse of a basement; concrete floors, and concrete walls. The lighting is dim and to her surprise, the place is bustling.

Three large boxing rings sit in the length of the basement, and gym equipment is spread out across the far right of the stairs entrance. She can see a small shower sign to her left, and right in front of her, she notices him.

He’s sweating, struggling to catch his breath. His hands are resting on his knees, his back hunched over slightly as he lets out shallow pants to gain control of his breathing.

Harry and his opponent stand in the middle of the ring. There’s a cocky grin on his lips as he stands up straight, tearing the Velcro on his gloves as he tugs them off his hands and throws them out of the ring. Jason, Harry’s sparring partner, waddles over, face beet red and chest splotchy.

“Good fight.” He shakes Harry’s hand, a tired yet smug look on his face and Harry can’t help but roll his eyes when he pulls away, taking out his gum shield as he does so.

He grins. “You tried.”

The sight of him makes Y/N’s chest heave. The sweat adoring his tattooed chest and torso, the way his golden skin glistens under the dim lighting.

She feels a bit more suited in this environment than she did upstairs. At least down here, she isn’t self-conscious about her tatty converse.

Y/N takes a moment to compose herself, letting her eyes flutter around the other trainers. She doesn’t recognize any faces, not even any from Sam’s funeral.

And amid her surveillance, Harry notices her presence. He’s unwrapping the bandage across his knuckles as he watches her, ignoring Jason’s words about going for drinks for Tony’s birthday.

When Y/N turns back to Harry, their eyes finally meet. She offers a nervous smile through pursed lips, barely raising her hand from the side of her body in a timid wave.

“Hey, you hitting the showers or what?” Jason’s voice breaks Harry from his little trance and he hums.

“Yeah. I’ll meet you guys later.”

Harry’s crouching under the top rope of the boxing ring, climbing over the bottom two, and jumping off the platform. He approaches Y/N with a breezy smile, his eyes light and welcoming.

“Hey.”

Y/N clears her throat. “Hi.”

There’s a moment of silence between them both. The gym winds down as more people head for the lockers and showers. Y/N notices and supposes it’s closing time.

“Are you closing?” She finally asks.

Harry looks around them. “Oh… yeah the guys are going for drinks for someone’s birthday. We open back up at 11 for the midnight fights.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Midnight fights?”

Harry nods. “Yeah… training during the day and then we host fights on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday nights.”

Y/N chews on the inside of her cheek, nodding slowly as she takes his words in. Harry can read her like a book and can tell she’s slightly overwhelmed but even more so, she’s intrigued.

He scratches the back of his head. “I can show you to Sam’s office if you want to talk?”

It takes Y/N a moment to consider Harry’s offer. She’s unsure if she’s mentally and emotionally prepared to see her late brother's office. She’s not sure how it’ll make her feel.

But if she can drive here after work without thinking about it too much, she supposes seeing Sam’s office would be better done spontaneously than planned. Because if she allows herself to think and ponder and doubt, she’ll never make it past the door.

So she nods her head with a soft ‘okay’ and Harry leads her through the gym.

Y/N notices the lock on the door first, then the key that Harry pulls out of his pocket. She wonders how close he and Sam must’ve been for Harry to have access to the office.

He pushes the door open and flicks on the light, allowing Y/N to enter first. She takes her steps slowly, tentatively. The office is small, nothing fancy. There’s an oak desk, an office chair, some filing cabinets, and framed photos of past fights on the walls. Photos that she does not have the strength to acknowledge right now.

Harry closes the door behind them both and drops the key on the desk. “I’ve been coming in here every day. Just to keep on top of things until you were ready to take over.”

His words are slightly muffled as he squeezes his head into a tight t-shirt, tugging it down his still-damp torso.

Y/N turns to him, a little overwhelmed as the tears begin to gather. “I don’t think I can do this,” she laughs tearfully.

Her arms are raised by her sides as she looks around the place. “Look at all of this. I have no idea about fighting or training. How the hell am I supposed to do this? Why did he think I could?”

There’s pity in Harry’s eyes and he purses his lips, upset for her. “Sam needed to know you’d be looked after if anything happened to him. He liked the idea of you continuing his legacy and inheriting all the riches that come with it.”

Y/N scoffs through her tears. “This is a lot, Harry. It’s not like he’s left me his hamster.”

He bites back a smile at her words. He knows if Sam could see his sister now, he’d be rolling his eyes and calling her a drama queen.

“Were you close? You and Sam?” She asks.

Harry takes a shaky breath, nodding slowly. “We were best mates. We were partners.”

Y/N’s eyes widen, eyebrows raised to her forehead in shock and Harry is quick to clock on to what she’s assuming.

“No!” He blurts. “Not like that, Jesus fucking Christ. Partners in the company, I mean.”

Y/N’s body visibly relaxes at the statement but it’s quickly replaced with confusion.

“Wait,” she holds her hand up. “If you’re a partner, why does it matter that I take over? Can’t you just have the company to yourself?”

Harry frowns. “No, Sam is the sole owner of this place. I helped him run things. I have twenty-five percent and you now own the rest. Sam left that to you. Which is why I’ll be the one showing you the ropes. Sam would arrange the illegal side of things – you know, book in the fights, set up bets and stuff. I would do the more legitimate side. Membership fees, taxes… keeping everything under the radar and looking kosher.”

She takes a seat in the chair, closing her eyes for a moment. “Okay,” she whispers, more so to herself. “So… what is this then? Disguised as a gym?”

Harry chuckles softly, planting his bum on the edge of his desk. “Basically. We’re registered as a business, a gym. We keep the fights quiet though. You only know about them if you’re invited or scouted.”

“Scouted?”

Harry nods. “Yeah, there’s a whole network of underground fighting. The Box is one of the most elite. You don’t get to fight unless you’re scouted by us, and you don’t get to watch unless you’re invited and you pay.”

It’s a lot to take in, Harry knows that. But if Y/N is going to take over half the company, she needs to know the ins and outs of everything – no matter how dark or dodgy it may be.

“We charge memberships through card, so we have something to declare and pay taxes on. As for the fights–”

“Let me guess, paid in cash; same with the bets. That’s the real money maker, you don’t have to declare cash.”

Harry nods slowly, impressed by her ability to connect the dots. Unlike most people, Harry has no issue trusting her with every secret within the company. She’s Sam’s blood. And this place was Sam’s everything. He wouldn’t dream of leaving it in untrusted hands.

“I’ll be blunt here, I am not cut out to be running anything illegal.” She admits blatantly, not even thinking of entertaining the idea.

Harry gets it, completely. “That’s fine. If you would rather handle memberships and the legitimate side of the business, I can handle the rest.”

Y/N doesn’t expect him to be so understanding. To be frank, she doesn’t know what she expected from Harry. She figured all her brother's boxer friends would be cold and calculated. Not a gorgeous, kindhearted 6ft teddy bear.

“I know this is a lot to take in all at once, but if you’re happy to, I can show you how we work around here.”

What feels like an hour, is three. And by the time Harry has explained the basics and the logistics, it’s nearly 9:30 p.m. and Y/N’s stomach is rumbling. The loudness of it has heat rising to her cheeks and Harry chuckles.

She’s grown a little more relaxed around him in the two and a half hours they’ve spent in Sam’s office. Her Converse have been kicked off and her cardigan is long gone. She’s still sitting in the chair and Harry leans his bum against the desk, just a few inches from her.

“D’you wanna order food or call it a night?” He asks.

Y/N looks up at him. She’s ashamed to admit she’s enjoying this time with Harry. It’s been a long time since she’s felt so consumed in something that she hasn’t thought about how sad her life is right now.

“Oh, sorry I’ve been here a while. You’ve probably been wanting to go home for ages,” she laughs nervously, feeling slightly embarrassed.

Harry is quick to shake his head. “No, not at all. Besides, I’ve got to stay here for the fights tonight anyway.”

“Oh, right. Yeah. Do you mind if I stay?” She asks.

Y/N supposes that she may as well cram as much into one night as she can. Even if that does include watching illegal fights in this new business she co-owns.

Harry nods, taking a sip of his bottled water. “If you feel okay, stay. I know this is a lot to take in. Don’t think you have to do everything all at once.”

She appreciates his consideration, and maybe she’s not as mentally prepared for tonight and she’s letting herself think, but that doesn’t change her mind.

Y/N can’t fight this inheritance. Harry won’t let her and she knows she’ll regret it if she walks away from Sam’s pride and joy. So she might as well suck it up the best she can.

“I can’t escape this now, Harry. If I’m going to be in this, I’ve got to be all in, right?”

Harry isn’t sure where her change of attitude has come from, but he hopes tonight doesn’t have her coiling back into that previous mindset of wanting nothing to do with the business.

So he nods at her and offers an apologetic yet appreciative smile. And looking at her, he takes a moment to admire the beauty of her. She’s nothing like Sam, not look-wise anyway.

She’s much more attractive than he was.

“So… do you want pizza or something else?” Y/N asks, tapping away on her phone to begin an order for food.

Harry purses his lips. “Oh, I can’t eat until after the fight. But order whatever you want on the company card. I’ll go up and grab it for you when it’s delivered.”

She finds it strange, but maybe Harry gets nervous for fight night. She’s not sure why else he wouldn’t eat until after watching illegal fights.

Y/N orders herself a small pizza and by the time she’s eaten, and Harry has finished explaining the systems, they’re leaving the office to find the trainers in the locker rooms.

The buzzing atmosphere has an unfamiliar wave of excitement washing over Y/N. The unknown anticipation is like electricity, sending a little shockwave through her body.

She hasn’t experienced anything like this before, and knowing nothing about how tonight may unfold, it has her on the tip of her toes. Nervous and ready for anything at the same time.

She thinks she gets what Sam used to say about the thrill he got from fighting. This feeling she’s getting just being stood in the gym before someone’s fight probably doesn’t even begin to compare to the feeling of actually fighting.

“Everyone listen up!”

Harry’s voice beckons over every single trainer. All eyes are on him and Y/N. She feels a little nervous like she’s intruding on their work.

“I’m sure many of you know, but for those who don’t… this is Sam’s sister, Y/N. She is the new partner in the company and will be just as involved in this business as Sam was. If she has any questions, you answer them. Tonight, you’re all to keep an eye out for her. We’ve got a rough bunch coming in and it’s Y/N’s first fight. Now glove up and get angry. We’re undefeated for a reason.”

As quickly as they paid attention, they were filtering out of the lockers. Y/N won’t admit it but she’s slightly in awe of the respect and power Harry has.

She would’ve never guessed he could have that effect on people. But as her life has proven, Y/N doesn’t seem to be right about anything. Ever.

As they exit the lockers, the gym is a lot fuller. At least two to three hundred people are occupying the space. Y/N’s never seen anything quite like it. It’s loud and masculine, and the eager guests put their bets in at the side of the rings.

“Niall!” Harry calls out, a blond amongst the trainers turning to the owners as he wanders over.

“Y/N, this is Niall. One of our best fighters and Sam’s protégé.”

She shakes his hand with a relaxed smile. “I remember you from his wake. Thank you for coming that day.”

Niall smiles pitifully, releasing her hand. “Your brother was a good fella. Welcome to the team, Y/N. We’re glad to have you in the family.”

She doesn’t question the family remark. She doesn’t have to. Sam had always expressed to Y/N how the boys at the gym were like his brothers. It warms her heart to speak with Niall.

“Ni, I want you to keep an eye on her for me. Just until I’m done.” Niall nods and Y/N frowns, turning to Harry.

“Where are you going?” She asks.

He grins at her, cheeky and cocky. “I'm the first fight. You gonna give me luck like you give my gran, Penny?”

Y/N can’t hide the way her eyes widen or how heat rises to her cheeks. She doesn’t know what she’s more caught off by. Harry fighting or the unexpected use of her nickname.

Wherever it is, it has fire licking at every inch of her body. And the smirk he throws her before approaching the ring only adds fuel to her ever-growing fire.

She’s got fucking whiplash. One minute she’s moping over her brother and the next she’s pressing her thighs together desperately and accepting the fact that she is now, to put it bluntly, a crime boss.

She turns to Niall with a sheepish smile and attempts to relax her shoulders. Niall seems to see right through her shaky facade and he lets out a cackle of a laugh before throwing an arm around her shoulder.

“Don’t worry, Harry is the dog's bollocks. And it’s okay to fancy him. Most girls do.”

The ruckus only gets louder, a fairly even mix of chants and boos as Harry approaches the ring and climbs in. Y/N isn’t sure why her heart begins to race. She isn’t sure why she’s instinctively toying with the pendant on her necklace. She has no idea why she’s so hooked and nervous.

Like she’s worried for him.

The introductions are a blur, both Harry and his opponent walking the ring for all to see. The referee doesn’t stand in there with them. He stands to the side, an older man with a beer belly and balding scalp, his voice rumbling through the microphone that echoes.

“This guy’s a fucking nutter.” she hears Niall say beside her, face close to her ear to raise his voice above the noise.

Y/N’s heart stammers a little faster. “He got banned for a little while. The last time he was here, he bit someone’s pinky finger off. Two years later, and we still haven’t got the blood out of the mat. Osmond has very little perception of pain. The only way to win against him is knocking him clean out, or he can fight all night.”

She tries her hardest not to let her eyes widen at his words and keeps her gaze focused on Harry and Osmond. He’s significantly larger than Harry – stockier and taller. Y/N thought they’d at least follow weight class guidelines, but now she’s beginning to worry that Harry may barely come out of there with a pulse.

When the bell sounds and the fight starts, Y/N can’t tear her eyes away. They’re both circling the ring, cautious like lions stalking their prey. Osmond is the first to move, feigning an attack by stomping his foot forward and then easing back.

The motion goes unphased by Harry, not even a flicker of a flinch. Niall giggles to himself, like he’s not at all worried about his friend. Unfortunately, Y/N doesn’t share the same confidence in Harry that Niall does. How can she? She’d never seen him fight before.

They grow closer and Harry is bouncing on his toes. Even barely knowing him. Y/N can feel the energy he’s permitting. The confidence, the excitement. She swallows a gasp when Osomond lunges for Harry but he’s quick to dodge it, forcing a fist into the side of Osmond’s face as he bounces back.

Osmond stumbles for a second, taken aback by the force of Harry’s punch – like Y/N’s not the only one to underestimate the boxer. But as soon as he finds his footing, the fight breaks loose.

Harry is quick to dodge ninety percent of Osmond’s punches, delivering a blow of his own with every other recoil. His slimmer build and smaller weight works to his advantage. Y/N watches the way Harry moves around his opponent, notices how much quicker his reflexes are than Osmond’s.

The crowd has grown significantly louder than before and yet it all becomes a bit of a blur to Y/N. She’s enamoured by him, by his every movement. The way muscles ripple with every pinch, how his skin glistens with sweat, and blood begins to drip from the bridge of his nose.

As quickly as she begins to grow aroused, she stops. Remembering that this was her brother’s life for years. Fighting like this, with little to no rules and people betting on him to win or lose.

So caught up in her head, she misses the final punch that Harry connects with Osmond’s jaw. Misses the way the larger man plummets to the ground with a thud. She doesn’t notice the straining eyes of strangers as they stare at her from across the basement, watching her every move like hawks.

She doesn’t notice, but Harry does. Because he’s looking right at her, stuck in her head. He doesn’t like it one bit; how naive she is. In another Universe, maybe he’d admire it. But not in this world – the new world she’s been thrown into. She can’t afford to be unaware of the dangers this place can carry, of the things people are capable of. It’s muffled to Y/N when the crowd begins to count down from ten, reality only really fixing her senses when that bell rings again.

And the fight is over.

She hasn’t been able to stop looking at him.

Harry’s been cleaned up, dressed in a t-shirt again, and counting the money he’s won from the fight. He flicks the notes from one hand to another with ease, counting far too quickly but Y/N supposes he’s used to it.

“What did you think of the fight?” he asks.

Y/N quirks a brow, wonders if there’s a hint of cockiness in his tone, but there isn’t. He’s not boasting about how good of a fight it was, he’s just asking what she thought.

“Was good. Didn’t know you could fight like that.”

Harry hums, stuffing the cash into an envelope and offering her a tight-lipped smile. “Most people don’t. I’m used to being underestimated.”

Y/N doesn’t say anything as she sits on the edge of the ring. The Box had cleared out around forty-five minutes ago, just the two of them left now and the clock is ticking ten to three.

“Think I missed the part where you knocked him out, though.”

Harry hums. “Yeah, I noticed you were a bit in your head when that happened. You need to stop doing that here moving forward.”

Y/N frowns, unsure what she should address first. The fact he was watching her during the fight, or that she needs to stop getting in her head.

“What do you mean?” she settles for.

Harry stands from the small foldable table beside the ring. “No matter how well you may ever think you know this place and these people, you don’t. It’s a bottomless pit of uncertainty and you need to have your wits about you at all times. People were watching you tonight, trying to suss you out. If anyone smells even a hint of fear or weakness on you in this place, you’re done for – whether you’re a fighter or not.”

His words hit Y/N a little harder than both anticipated but she supposes it’s what she needed to hear. Because he is right. She gets in her head far too often since Sam’s passing, and Y/N knows it’ll only end up getting her hurt or in trouble. Especially in a place like this.

So she nods her head, understanding and agreeing. And it’s not like Harry expected her to put up a fight, but he’s at least glad he didn’t make her cry with it.

“Come on, it’s late. I’ll drive you home.” He offers, but Y/N is quick to stand and shake her head, hauling her purse over her shoulder.

“It’s okay, my car’s outside.”

He looks at her for a moment, like he’s debating letting her drive alone at this time. But it’s not his business, and he’s not prepared to overstep again. He might’ve promised Sam he’d look out for her, but he’s not about to be overbearing.

“Okay. Text me when you’re home.”

She leaves shortly after, allowing Harry a few moments of peace as he finishes the last of his paperwork. A weight sits heavy on his shoulders about tonight. About how dangerous getting tied up in this place could be for Y/N.

The first day and people are already staring, gawking, surveilling. There’s that unnerving feeling in Harry’s tummy that just won’t go away. The kind of feeling he got before Sam died.

The memory stings him a little with both grief and guilt. Will there ever be a right time for him to tell Y/N how her brother really died? That it wasn’t just an unfortunate car accident. That Harry’s been watching his back and secretly hers ever since. That the associates of the people who did it were in The Box tonight?

His phone chimes from beside him, screen alight with one single text from Y/N.

I’m home x

Bursting through the doors of Oakdale Care, Y/N’s more than a little pissed off. Not because she’s been called into work on her only day off this week. But because the staff have waited two hours to make her aware of Mary’s fall this evening. And to top it off, they didn’t think to contact her family to notify them either.

Y/N chews into Melanie the second she comes through the door, exclaiming how unprofessional it is that they didn’t contact anyone when this happened.

Melanie remains quiet, doesn’t know what to say back to that and she knows Y/N’s right in what she’s saying. But in Melanie’s defence, she’s not running the shift.

“I can call Mary’s grandson now. I’m not running today, Lara is… I thought she would’ve called him?”

Y/N takes a breath as she stops outside of Mary’s bedsit. She knows she shouldn’t have kicked up a big fuss without knowing everything, but the fact still stands that she and Harry weren’t notified when the accident occurred two hours ago.

Shaking her head, Y/N peers into Mary’s room. She lays on her back in her bed, eyes closed but there’s a pinch between her brows, suggesting discomfort and pain from her fall.

“Don’t worry, I called Harry as soon as you called me. He’s on his way now. Has Lara given Mary any pain meds? What’s going on with paramedics?”

Melanie doesn’t say anything about Y/N calling Harry from home. Honestly, she doesn’t think anything of it. It’s not uncommon for seniors to have patients' family members' contacts on their phones. It comes in handy for situations like this.

“Oh, okay. Um, yes… Lara gave her pain relief and paramedics said they’ll be here as soon as possible – they’re understaffed and have a lot of more emergent calls.”

Y/N nods, reaching back to tie her hair up the best she can without a mirror. “Okay, did they say if they’d be taking her in?”

Melanie shakes her head. “They said they’ll assess her on scene and go from there. If they don’t think her hip is broken, they’ll get her referred for an X-ray tomorrow afternoon. If they can tell that it is, then they’ll take her in.”

Y/N nods. She’s been here long enough to know how it works, it isn’t the first time an elderly patient has had a fall. “Alright, thank you. Can you let Lara know I’m staying for the remainder of the shift, most likely tonight as well?”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll see if Lara wants you to take over the shift or whatever.”

When Melanie leaves, Y/N quietly enters Mary’s room. She sits on the chair across from the bed and exhales softly.

“For Christ's sake, Mary… you’re always up to no good.” She whispers to herself, allowing just a moment to get her mind in order so she’s calm enough to explain to Harry fully what’s going on.

The idea of seeing him under these circumstances irks her a bit. She’s only been to the club once since she was first there two weeks ago, still finding it a little overwhelming to process. And Harry had assured her that it was fine and to take her time, and if once a week is all she can handle right now, then that’s fine, too.

Y/N feels a little bad. Allowing Harry to run the club alone while she owns the majority of it. It feels a little too cheeky in the worst way and the guilt has been nipping at her for a few days now.

It doesn’t help that tonight she was supposed to be there, to run through the books and set up some form of timesheet for what days she’d come in. Now it looks like neither of them will be there this evening.

A gentle knock on Mary’s door disturbs Y/N’s inner turmoil, and she’s met with the devil himself standing in the doorway. There’s worry in his eyes, brows knitted and lips in a fine line.

“Hey,” Y/N breathes a greeting as she stands from her chair.

Harry enters the room cautiously, scared he may wake her but also scared of what Y/N may say to him. His eyes flicker between the two women for a moment and Y/N offers a gentle smile.

“We’re waiting for paramedics to come and assess her. She’s been given medication for the pain. I’m so sorry you weren't contacted sooner. I called as soon as I found out.”

Harry waves off her apology, knowing it isn’t Y/N’s fault. He takes the seat beside hers as they sit together. Harry’s fingers are intertwined across his chest as he sits back and regards his grandmother.

Guilt is quick to settle into his stomach. He wishes he visited her more often. When scary things like this occur, he finds himself deep in his head about what he couldn’t and should’ve done better or more. He’s not silly, he knows his gran is getting old, but growing up, Harry always viewed her as immortal — isn’t that how everyone sees their grandparents? As ever-lasting beings who will always just be there?

“Do you want me to give you some space?”

Y/N notices his dazed eyes slowly blink her way. He’s not completely with it, may that be through fear, stress or something entirely else.

Harry shakes his head. “No, you’re fine. Feels a bit reassuring having you in here, if I’m honest.” There’s a hesitant (dare she say, shy) smile on his lips as he speaks.

Y/N would like to say his words mean something deeper but in reality, she gets it. Family tend to prefer having a member of staff present after something like this — just in case something happens, there’s already someone there.

She bites down her confused disappointment and a few moments of silence settle around them.

Y/N picks at her nails while Harry chews at the inside of his cheek; his eyes focused on the clock on the wall beside him. It’s nearing eight in the evening and the home is relatively quiet. There will be a staff swap shortly for the night shift but even then, there won’t be much more noise.

“Why’s the car park always so busy recently?” Harry asks mindlessly, but the question bewilders Y/N for a second.

“What do you mean?” She blinks.

Harry shrugs his shoulders, shifting in his chair. “The amount of cars parked out the front compared to the amount of staff in right now doesn’t match up.”

It’s Y/N’s turn to shrug her shoulders. “It’s a busy area. A lot of people tend to use the car park if they live nearby and can’t find a space. Plus it’s free.”

A quiet hum sounds from Harry’s throat and Y/N finds herself wondering if he’s satisfied with her answer or not. Then she finds herself confused again as to why she cares.

“I told Melanie I’d stay for a few hours, or at least until we know what’s going on with the paramedics. So, I most probably won’t be at the gym later tonight. Sorry.”

Harry shakes his head. “No, don’t be silly. It’s fine. I’ll stay, too. Niall can oversee the gym, it’s just a few lads putting in extra training tonight, there’s no fights anyway.”

Y/N’s about to reply when a gentle knocking on Mary’s door stops her. Melanie pops her head through, an apologetic smile on her face as she greets Harry with a polite wave.

“Y/N, is there any chance you can do bedtime meds round? Lana’s speaking with the Head of Care about the fall.”

She looks to Harry, who nods with a small smile before she leaves the room with Melanie. He’s left with silence and his grandmother's soft snores as she sleeps. His heart races a little with worry of what could’ve happened. If she’d hit her head or if a member of staff wasn’t in the room when it happened.

It takes a lot of force to shake those thoughts from his head. The what-ifs. He tries to find something else to focus his attention on, but Mary doesn’t have much in her room.

She’s always been a very simplistic person, never been one for clutter and unnecessary decorations. She has a clock on one wall and the cross of Christ on another beside a photo of her late mother.

Digging through the pockets of his slacks, Harry retrieves his phone and shoots Niall a quick text.

Harry: Can’t make it in tonight, family emergency. You okay to oversee the training?

A few moments pass before the little bubble appears at the bottom of his screen, which is quickly replaced with Niall’s reply.

Niall: No prob, hope alls ok. Is Y/N in?

Harry: No.

Shutting his phone off, he stuffs it back into his pocket. He sits in silence for a few moments, foot tapping against the carpeted floor until he hears a little movement from out in the hall.

Harry cranes his neck from where he sits in his chair, peering through the crack. Y/N pushes the medication trolley through the hallway, stopping outside of Mary’s door as she enters the room opposite.

“Evening, Malcolm. I’ve got your medication, mate. Do you want juice or water with it?”

He smiles at the softness of her voice, of how calm and collected she seems. He listens in as Malcolm attempts to refuse them, fights back a laugh as Y/N persuades him to take it because if you don’t, you know your hair will start to fall out again and you told me Alice doesn’t like bald men.

He takes the medication and she leaves shortly after, moving onto the next room that Harry can’t hear from.

It’s roughly twenty minutes later when she’s returning to Mary’s room and offering Harry an apologetic smile. She’s got two mugs of tea in her hands as she passes one to Harry and sits in the chair beside him.

“I find it really admirable, what you do.” He tells her softly.

Y/N frowns a little, slightly embarrassed by the compliment but she shrugs it off. “I treat them how I’d want someone to treat my grandparents. Really, they’re all like extra Nan’s and Grandad’s to me.”

He smiles at her, believing what she says. Mary has always boasted about how amazing her Penny is. Harry knows she loves her job and the people she cares for. It makes his heart feel full.

“Have you always wanted to work in care?”

Y/N pulls a face as she thinks, a look that suggests no, not really.

“I actually wanted to be an air hostess,” she laughs to herself, like her dream job is completely irrational and totally out of reach.

Harry must admit that it does make his eyebrows raise. He doesn’t think he’s ever met someone who shares an interest in something like that.

“But my grandma passed away in a care home a few years ago. She was unwell, we thought she might’ve had a heart attack or a stroke or something in her sleep. The coroner concluded it was a heartache but it stemmed from a build-up of neglect. The nurses weren’t giving her the medication she needed and things like that. Sam ended up beating the shit out of the manager and he sued them. At my grandma’s funeral, I vowed to her I wouldn’t let that happen to anyone else’s grandparent again.”

Harry blinks at her, lips parted. He’s stunned, to say the least, and his heart feels heavy from her words. He can’t begin to imagine the anger and heartache she must’ve felt. Harry supposes that’s why she got so uptight about Mary’s fall.

“Jesus. Penny, I’m so sorry.”

His apology is genuine, she knows that. But she waves her hand to dismiss the condolence. It’s not something she likes to talk about. And she’s not entirely sure why she feels so comfortable sharing that with Harry.

“What about you?” She takes a sip of her tea. “Have you always wanted to be a boxer?”

Harry puffs out the air in his cheeks and shifts in his chair. “For the longest time, I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life. I was a bit of a problem child as a kid, so my mum got me into boxing to help me learn respect and discipline. Didn’t think I’d love it as much as I did.”

Y/N listens intently to his words, watches the way his lips move with every syllable. She comes to the realisation that she could sit and listen to him speak for hours.

“After school, I started Uni… studying law.”

The irony in his voice has them both laughing quietly and Y/N has to purse her lips shut to not wake Mary. She can’t imagine Harry wearing a suit and tie all day every day. Though she does remember how handsome he looked at Sam’s funeral.

“I was on a night out with some friends one night down the pub, and this bloke was just on one. We got into a fight outside and right after, Sam came up to me. Told me he was impressed and invited me to come and train at the gym.”

It’s funny, really. How in both of their stories, Sam plays such a crucial part. Sometimes Harry does wonder if he would’ve followed through with law school if Sam hadn’t scouted him. Though as much as he tries to imagine it, he can’t see his life for anything other than what it already is.

“Around the time Gran got unwell, Sam had offered me fights at the club. I knew she’d need private care and fighting would be the only way to afford it. My mum was out of work with knee surgery around the same time, so it was all falling on me. I did what I had to do. I dropped out of Uni and never looked back.”

It’s bittersweet, how his path was paved for him. Harry had to step up and support his family, and whatever plans he had before that had to be pushed aside and forgotten. Y/N finds it quite noble if she’s honest. But there’s sadness and pity in her gut.

“Where’s your mum now?” She asks.

Harry takes a sip of his drink.

“She works for a big publishing firm in the city. She travels a lot, I think she’s in New York at the moment.”

“Oh, wow.” Y/N’s eyes widen slightly.

Harry nods his head. “Yeah, she’s a big shot.” He laughs. “My mum sacrificed a lot for me and Gran, I’m trying my best to give it back. She doesn’t know that I pay for all of Gran’s care. She thinks it’s covered by her disability.”

Her heart hurts but it swells at the same time. Behind that rough and mean exterior, Harry seems to be one of the most gentle and genuine people Y/N has ever met. She just wants to give him a hug.

“I don’t mean to be nosy, so tell me if I’m overstepping. But as Mary’s keyworker, I handle all invoices and health care… and I know you make a lot of money from the fights. Why do you keep her here when you could afford something more lavish?”

She hopes it doesn’t come off the wrong way — she already thinks it’s incredible what he’s doing for his family. But she can’t help but wonder.

“Honestly?” He asks, and Y/N nods. “Because of you. She loves living here and she loves you. Whenever I visit, it’s always Penny this, and Penny that. You’ve got no idea how at peace I feel with her living her, because of how incredible you are with her.”

Y/N’s not sure when the tears began to well in her eyes but when they begin to fall down her cheek, Harry is quick to wipe them away softly with the pad of his thumb.

They’re both aware of how intimate his little act was, so he’s quick to sit back in his chair and clear his throat.

“As for the money, I save most of it for my future children and stuff. I don’t want to do this forever, but now Sam’s gone… I don’t think I’ll ever be able to walk away from it. It’s all I’ve got left of him.”

Everything he says is loaded to Y/N. Future children, her late brother. She’s not sure if she pegged Harry for the type to want children, but she constantly has to remind herself that she doesn’t know him, and every time they speak she learns something new.

The mention of Sam makes her heart hurt. And in the past two weeks, she’s begun to adopt the same mindset that Harry already has. Now she’s part of it, she doesn’t think she could let the club go. Much like Harry, it’s one of the only things she has left of Sam, too.

They sit like that for another hour or so, just talking and learning more about each other. Harry shares stories about Mary, and Y/N listens intently to the mirage of the older woman’s life.

Y/N is about to ask another question when their little story time is interrupted by two male paramedics knocking on the door of Mary’s room.

Y/N’s the first to stand, offering a polite smile as she shakes both of their hands. “Hi, I’m Y/N, Mary’s keyworker. This is Harry,” she gestures to him, “Mary’s grandson.”

The two paramedics introduce themselves as Darren and Olli as they lug their equipment into the room with them. Harry sits back to allow them their space as they wake Mary from her light slumber.

He watches as Y/N softly explains what’s happening and that she needs to be checked over by the nice paramedics. They’re all thankful that Mary doesn’t kick up a fuss about it, and allows Darren and Olli to gently examine her hips.

“Been a while since a strapping young bloke has had his hands all over my hips… let alone two of ya.”

Harry closes his eyes in embarrassment as Y/N stifles her laugh. No matter how long she’s been caring for Mary, she never fails to give Y/N the giggles. And it doesn’t help when she mumbles something along the lines of ‘I should fall over more often’, under her breath.

Olli gently pushes pressure on her left hip. “Is that giving you any discomfort, Mary?”

She shakes her head. “Oh, absolutely not, petal. You can keep doing that.”

“Gran!”

It’s Olli’s turn to stifle his amusement as he removes his hands from her hips and takes off his gloves. He turns to Harry and Y/N while Darren helps Mary to lay back and pulls her top back over her stomach.

“From what I can feel, it’s not broken. She may be a bit achy for a couple of days, so keep on top of painkillers but she’ll be fine.”

An audible gasp can be heard in the room from both Y/N and Harry as Mary gets comfortable in her bed again. Too pent up with both worry and relief, neither of them notice the way Mary looks at them, how her eyes are knowing and clueless at the same time.

It’s another twenty minutes or so before the paramedics leave to speak with the manager. Harry is quick to sit beside Mary, holding her hand and chastising her about how much she scared everyone.

Mary is even quicker to roll her eyes and smack the back of Harry’s hand lightly. “Oh, behave, Harry. I’m fine. The yummy paramedics even said so.”

Y/N can’t help but laugh at the way Harry’s face screws up at her words, quickly tugging his hand from her hold to cover his face with a groan.

“Harry’s right. You gave us all a scare.”

Mary looks at her with gentle eyes and huffs. “I’m okay, honestly. And I heard what you said earlier. As much as I love you both, I don’t need a babysitter. Both of you can shoo off and let me sleep. Come back tomorrow.”

Harry’s about to put up a fight about it, but Mary shakes her head. “No, I mean it. Go on, both of you. Piss off.”

Neither of them are shocked by her pottymouth. If anything, they’re thankful that’s all she had to say. They both know how venomous Mary’s words can be when she’s pissed off.

They say goodbye to her shortly after, traipsing back through the hall until they reach reception. Y/N leans over the desk and scribbles a note on a post-it, sticking it to the laptop to notify the staff that she’s left.

The brisk air of the late-night envelopes them harshly as they leave through the front door, barely given enough time to brace themselves for the frosty impact.

Y/N’s eyes scan the car park for her car, absentmindedly searching for Harry’s, too. “I’m over there,” she points to her car. “Did you drive here?”

The question makes Harry’s eyes widen and shoulders slump. “My car was playing up so I took it to the garage down the street. It’s still in there.”

Neither of them need to glance at their watches to know the garage won’t be open at nearly midnight. Y/N frowns but shrugs her shoulders.

“S’okay. Where do you live? I can drop you off.”

The offer warms his heart but not enough to give him hope. “Don’t worry about it, I’m like forty minutes away… I wouldn’t expect you to drive there and back before you even get home.”

The thought sounds a bit grim to her but she’s not about to leave him on the street to have to walk or pay an extortionate amount (which she’s sure he can afford) on an Uber.

“Well, you can just crash at mine then. I have work tomorrow afternoon, so I can bring you back and you can grab your car then?”

It stuns them both for a moment, her words. Y/N’s shocked she actually offered what was on her mind and Harry’s a little bewildered at how willing she is to have him, somewhat of a stranger, in her home.

He tilts his head slightly with gently pinched brows. “Are you sure?” Ever the gentleman.

She nods, like she’s trying to convince herself as well. “Honestly, I don’t mind. And it’s not like you’re a complete stranger.”

He laughs at that, he laughs hard. Maybe it’s the tiredness or maybe it’s the relief that Gran’s okay. Either way, he knows what she said wasn’t that funny.

She leads the way to her car and the drive back to her flat is quiet. Harry sings along softly to the radio, taking note of his surroundings.

There’s a cherry-scented freshener that hangs from the rearview mirror, a pair of running trainers sitting on one of the backseats and a small knitted blanket folded nearly just by his feet in the passenger footwell.

Harry thinks she’s the type of girl to have an emergency supply kit in her boot as well.

She does.

When they arrive at her apartment building, Harry follows her through the halls. She’s a little nervous, the closer they’re getting to her home. She panics as she struggles to remember if she left it a mess or still has clean clothes and underwear lying about anywhere.

As soon as she opens the door, she lets herself relax. No wild underwear to be seen, thank god.

Harry closes the door behind him and looks around. It’s nice, cosy. The walls are decorated with funky artwork and all of her furniture is slightly mismatched but it pulls together well.

He’s not sure what he expected, maybe something a bit more simplistic and minimalist. This is anything but — it feels a little intimate, like he’s seeing a deeper side to her. He can tell her flat reflects her personality.

“Cool artwork.”

She smiles sheepishly, hoping Harry can’t tell how nervous she is to have him in her home. He can. But he doesn’t say anything on the matter.

“Are you okay on the sofa?”

“Yeah, honestly I’m just thankful you’re letting me stay.”

Y/N smiles kindly at him. “Of course. There are blankets in the basket by the TV. Help yourself to anything you want in the kitchen. And the bathroom is just to the left of the dining table.”

It’s a little awkward for a moment. They’re not friendly enough for this to be normal, and Harry starts to feel that nervous tension too.

She says goodnight first, sauntering off to her bedroom and closing the door behind her. It takes a moment for Y/N to calm down a little. It’s been a while since an attractive man has been in her home, and she has to remind herself that previous men have been complete strangers for a hookup once in a blue moon.

Harry’s is not a hookup (unfortunately), and he is not a stranger. She repeats it in her head as she gets into her pyjamas and crawls into bed.

At least Y/N understands why she feels so anxious. Because Harry can’t put his finger on why he does. Too in his head about being in her home and it feeling so fucking intimate.

She doesn’t sleep all night.

Neither does Harry.

It’s been a week since Harry crashed on Y/N’s sofa and she hasn’t been able to look at it the same ever since. It’s been a bit of a struggle to try and wrap her head around these feelings she’s begun to harbour for Harry – she can’t get him out of her head.

They’ve spoken a couple of times here and there. Mostly him checking in about Gran or a tiny bit of flirtatious banter when she’s visited The Box a couple of evenings. Nothing at all to warrant how she feels at the moment.

Perhaps that’s why she’s so confused and conflicted.

And it doesn’t help that the second her mother called, the first thing she asked was if Y/N was dating or not yet.

“No mum.”

She hears the audible sigh from down the line and pinches her eyes shut to gain some form of self-control. Not today, Y/N – don’t snap at her today.

“Well, there’s a small amount of time left for you, I suppose. Anyway, have you seen your brother today?”

“Yes, I’m with him now Mum. I see you’ve already been down… the flowers look beautiful.”

She doesn’t reply to her daughter, not about Sam’s grave anyway. Instead, she changes the subject to something a little lighter. Y/N supposes it’s still hard for her, to talk about her deceased son. The one child she actually adored.

“Your father wanted me to ask if you’d like to come away with us this weekend?”

Y/N’s brows pinch at the proposition. A holiday with just her parents sounds like a living Hell if she’s entirely honest. And she’s more than a little shocked to even have received an invite. She reckons her Dad probably had something to do with that.

“Where are you going?” She asks.

Layla sighs, and Y/N imagines her scrutinising the new manicure she gets every Thursday. “Bora Bora,” she says with little to no enthusiasm.

Y/N stares at Sam’s headstone with a tired gaze in her eyes. “Only for three weeks, we need the break, to be honest. Are you coming or not?”

Only three weeks? Y/N finds herself biting down hard on her tongue. She’ll never understand how people with money can be so out of touch with the world sometimes. She scoffs, shaking her head to herself.

“Thank you for the offer, but no. I don’t have that kind of money and I can’t get three weeks off of work on such short notice.”

Layla hums. “Yes, I understand. Well, I have to start packing. Oh and please don’t get any dirt on Sammy’s headstone, I just got it power-washed.”

The line goes dead and Y/N stares at her brother's grave in astonishment. “Love you, too,” she mutters sarcastically as she pulls the phone away from her ear.

“Even in the dead, you’re still the goddamn favourite.”

She crouches down to get a better look at his plot. There are at least six bunches of fresh flowers in small plant potters that dig into the dirt. All beautiful and vibrant. Y/N places the seventh bunch in an empty plastic pot and uses her water bottle to fill it.

“Happy birthday, Sammy. I miss you.”

The cemetery is quiet, save for the few robins that perch on headstones close to her. From where she stands, Y/N spots an elderly couple walking hand in hand, no doubt visiting their own loved ones together.

Sometimes, she wishes she had someone to visit Sam with. Someone other than her parents.

She stays there for a few moments, doesn’t really know what to say. It irks her a little, knowing his body lies beneath that cold ground. Y/N can feel that familiar sinking feeling of depression consume her. The guilt, the pain.

She’d give everything to have him back, if even just for a day.

“It’s not getting any easier, Sammy.”

It’s like admitting defeat – like she’s not strong enough to cope with his loss. She is, but she certainly doesn’t feel the strength she needs to get her through.

From the peripheral of her vision, Y/N spots a figure approaching. She turns her head, the silhouette now much clearer and she’s sure she recognises the slender blonde woman that edges closer with every tentative step.

The woman from the reception.

She looks just as shocked as Y/N – clearly not expecting to bump into her but she must’ve known his family would visit on his birthday.

“Sorry,” the stranger starts. “I’ll come back later.”

Y/N shakes her head and calls out to her before she can fully turn to walk away. “Wait! I remember you, from the gym.” She chooses her words carefully, unsure how much she may know about the club itself.

The blonde nods her head and takes a few steps closer, eyes fixed on Sam’s grave as tears well in her eyes. “My name’s Amira… Sam and I were seeing each other when…”

She doesn’t finish her sentence, but Y/N gets it. Her lips part and her eyes fall downcast. Sammy never mentioned he was seeing anyone – but Y/N supposes there was a lot he didn’t mention in his lifetime.

“I’m sorry,” she says, “I had no idea he was seeing anyone. He tended to keep that kind of stuff to himself.”

Amira smiles but it doesn’t reach her eyes. She continues to clutch a fresh bouquet of flowers close to her chest and doesn’t say much more. Y/N begins to feel like maybe she’s the one intruding and quickly clears her throat, fixing the strap of her purse on her shoulder.

“Listen, my parents are going away for a few weeks. So if you’d like to stop by the house at all to go through some of Sam’s stuff, let me know. My number should be on the system at the gym anyway.”

There’s a look in Amira’s eyes as she takes in Y/N’s kind consideration. Maybe it’s relief, maybe it’s something else. But Y/N figures the least she could do is allow her a deeper look into Sam’s life and let her take whatever she may need to feel closer to him.

“Thank you, Y/N. That means so much to me. I’ll let you have time with him, I can come back later.”

She smiles at Amira, a genuine one this time and shakes her head. “No, don’t be silly. I’m heading out now anyway.” She brushes past Amira, hand reaching out to gently squeeze her arm. “Please don’t be a stranger. Sam might be gone, but our memories of him aren’t.”

The music is a bit deafening and Y/N’s ears are struggling to adjust to it. The Box isn’t all that busy this afternoon. A few on the weights and a couple sparring to the side of boxing bags.

What does catch her attention is Harry in the ring again. He’s not topless this time, instead wearing a simple red t-shirt and a pair of black gym shorts. His stance is firm as he holds his hands up (under those thick boxing pads) and allows Ricky to throw punches in timely combos.

Niall is the first to notice Y/N’s presence, and he’s soon by her side with a lopsided smile and ruffled hair. They share a bit of light chit-chat, nothing too deep or personal. Niall doesn’t want to tread in shallow water, not today.

And she’s far too focused on the way Harry’s biceps flex to focus on anything more than absentminded conversation. She’s not sure what’s gotten into her but she can’t get this man out of her head.

It’s been a long time since she’s had a crush, almost too long to remember what it even feels like. But the more she looks at him – admires him – she’s back to feeling those wanton butterflies and clammy hands.

Clearing her throat, she finally tears her gaze from the boxer and looks up at Niall. “I’ve got some invoices and stuff that I need to catch up on. Can you let Harry know I’m in the office when he’s done?”

Niall nods and just as quickly as their conversation starts, it ends.

Sitting in the office, she finds that there isn’t actually all that much to do. From what she can see, Harry has already made a start on this weeks memberships and was halfway through processing them on the system.

That tinge of guilt begins to nip at her gut again. She needs to talk to Harry about it, really. It’s not fair for him to do the majority of the work and only own a quarter of the company. She either needs to up her game or convince him to take another twenty-five percent.

But if Y/N has learnt anything about Harry by now, it’s that he will not take any more of this godforsaken company. So she finds herself making a mental note to put in more than just three evenings a week at this place.

She’s a few minutes into finishing the last of the memberships when Harry knocks on the door and enters. He’s hot and sweaty and his dishevelled hair only makes him look even more attractive than usual.

Lord have fucking mercy, she can’t handle this.

“Hey,” he greets her in a gruff voice.

She has to swallow down the lump in her throat before she can reply (a little too squeaky for her liking, and she’s wondering what the fuck is wrong with her).

“Have you seen Sammy today yet?”

Y/N nods with a sigh. “Yeah, just got back from there actually. Have you?”

Harry hums. “Yeah, I saw him this morning.”

He’s hunched over now, ruffling through his gym bag for his water bottle when he stands straight again and takes a sip of his drink.

“You’re probably spending the evening with your family, but a bunch of us are gonna go down to the pub for a few drinks for Sammy’s birthday. You’re more than welcome to join at some point if you’d like.”

The offer warms her heart to no end. It’s nice to hear how much people loved and respected him. Enough to celebrate his birthday even when he’s no longer here.

She also thinks it’s cute that he thinks she’ll be with her family. As if anything about her and her parents' relationship is healthy.

“I’ll be there,” she says a little too quickly. “My parents are busy packing for their spontaneous trip to Bora Bora. And my mother is insufferable so that’s just a big fat no to family time.”

Harry raises his eyebrows, a small quirk of a smile on his lips. Her words are nothing new to him. Despite being the favourite, Sam always had his moments to moan about their parents, too. Used to say the same thing about their mother being insufferable.

“You’re not going with them?”

“No!” She laughs and the sound makes Harry smile. “I can’t afford a spontaneous three-week vacation and I can’t get the time off work so short notice either.”

She watches Harry open the middle drawer of the silver filing cabinet and pull out an overly stuffed envelope. He hands it to her, brows raised expectantly for her to take it.

It’s heavy, and her name is written in his scribbled handwriting and she finds herself looking at it for a second too long.

“It’s your month's wages.”

She peers inside, eyes wide. Y/N looks back at him. “How much is this?”

“Ten grand.”

Her eyes widen even more. “I’m sorry…” she blinks, “Ten fucking grand? For a month?”

Harry shrugs, finally deciding to take a seat opposite her. “That’s what Sam used to pay himself monthly. You own the same amount that he did.”

Y/N stares at him for a moment. She wonders if this amount of cash is normal to Harry and by the way he doesn’t bat an eyelid, she supposes it is.

“Well I’m not Sam and you’re doing more work than me,” she blubbers. “You should be getting paid more.”

She tries to shove the envelope across the table and into his hands but he won’t have any of it. Harry laughs at her, shaking his head like she’s the ridiculous one.

“I get paid enough, believe me.” He pushes the envelope back over to her and she stares at it.

Y/N has never seen that much money in cash with her name on. She’s never even had that much money at once before. The possibilities are endless as she thinks of what she could do with it.

She could join her parents in Bora Bora and fuck work off completely if she’s getting paid that every month. But she won’t.

She could also redecorate her entire flat and do out her wardrobe twice over with just that single month's wage, but she knows she won’t.

Because Y/N will probably tuck it away under her bed later tonight and be too afraid to spend a single penny of it.

And Harry notices the way she falls into her mind. She hasn’t taken her eyes off the envelope but she’s still yet to touch it again. He figures it’ll take a while for her to become a bit more accustomed to this.

He taps his fingers on the desk, gaining her attention. “Penny, it’s your money. Do whatever you see fit with it. Save it, spend it, give it away. Do what you want.”

Her eyes soften a little, appreciating his encouragement. It still feels wrong, though. To accept that amount of money for doing virtually nothing when people out there who work forty-plus hours every week and still struggle to pay their bills on time.

She hangs onto the suggestion of giving it away. Maybe she’ll donate it to charity. Not all of it — she does need her oil changed and a new tyre — but most of it.

Then a thought occurs to her and her eyebrows raise. It’s like Harry already knows what she’s going to suggest and he’s shaking his head again with a raspy laugh that Y/N feels between her legs.

“No,” he tells her. “You can’t give it away to me.”

If someone had warned her what tonight would look like before she left The Box, Y/N would’ve laughed in their face and called them delusional.

The night had started like she’d expected. Y/N had driven to the pub with Harry, Niall and Ricky after they were showered and changed, and met up with everyone else where they started off with two shots each in honour of Sammy.

It continued like she’d expected. The group of them were spread across two booths and two tables — Y/N being one of the only women amongst the bunch of rowdy men — and drinks went down nicely as everyone took turns to reminisce on their favourite memories of her late brother.

But somewhere down the line of shots, jugs and a drinking game where you had to drink every time Ricky said ‘aye aye captain’ (which she learnt was his catchphrase), Harry had grown increasingly closer to Y/N.

And now, the two of them have somehow moved deeper into the booth. Harry sits right in the corner with Y/N tucked into his side. About twenty minutes ago, his arm had found its way across her shoulder and has been comfortably resting there ever since.

His fingers gently stroke the exposed skin of the middle of her bicep and she’s so close to him that half of her back is pressed against his chest.

They’ve both had a fair amount to drink, but Harry seems significantly more sober than she does. Maybe it’s because she’s the one feeling a little hot about their close proximity.

And it’s not that she minds it, because she absolutely fucking doesn’t. She’s revelling in it, if she’s completely honest. But she’s shocked and confused as to where this touchy side of Harry has come from and why.

And just when she thinks they couldn’t get any closer, Harry’s leaning his head just enough so his lips ghost her ear as he whispers something jokingly about whatever it is that Niall has said.

She can’t fucking focus. Out of nowhere this man has come into her life and flipped it 180. And in just a month of knowing one another, she's down bad and ready to say yes to anything he could ever want.

Y/N has to force a breathy laugh to whatever he’s just whispered. She can’t think straight, unable to hear a thing when all she can think about is the way his lips feel against the shell of her ear.

And Harry’s noticed.

After her third drink, he noticed how she looked at him a little longer than usual. At first, he thought nothing of it, then she did it again and again and her eyes grew shy whenever he looked at her.

It made his stomach flip. She’s attractive, incredibly so. And Harry’s no blind man. Even before Sam had passed, he knew what she looked like and he found her quite fit.

But this odd friendship they have, where he’s gotten to know her and came to the realisation that she’s the one to care for his Gran… it’s blown that initial attraction tenfold.

So maybe he did play up to it a little bit. Maybe he threw his arm around her shoulder to test the waters, to see if she’d pull away or ask him not to.

But she didn’t pull away and she didn’t say a word. So Harry finally let himself consider the fact that she may find him just as attractive as he finds her.

“Y’look really pretty, by the way.”

Oof. Way to fucking play it cool, Harry.

Her head snaps up in his direction and the mumbled tone of his voice. She heard him. Loud and clear. And she’s blinking up at him like he holds the stars in the sky.

“What?” she breathes.

Harry gulps, visibly. “I said you look really pretty today.”

She thought she heard him right. But it doesn’t hurt to hear it for a second time. Y/N’s skin grows warm as she looks at him, and his eyes are lingering on her lips.

Her heart skips a beat or two, breathing lodged in her throat. The way he looks at her has her stone-cold sober, no longer feeling the effects of alcohol. Instead, she feels the heat that radiates from Harry’s and the palpable tension between them.

He can’t seem to tear his eyes away from her mouth — the way her plump lips part and her eyes drop down to his. The thought of kissing her is at the front of his mind, but before he can decide if he’ll act on impulse or not, a glass shatters on the other table and the moment is gone.

Niall’s drunkenly mopping up a spilt beer with paper towels and an empty crisp packet, and Y/N is no longer tucked into his hold. She’s leaning forward to take a look at the damage and Harry’s left feeling a little disappointed.

He shifts in the booth, sitting upright and clearing his throat as he recomposes himself. Niall’s little accident has drawn a fair amount of attention toward the group, and when Harry eyes the other patrons of the pub, his heart sinks to his stomach at one possee in particular.

They’re already looking at him. At her. It takes every ounce of self-control to not approach and beat the shit out of them. Who the fuck do they think they are?

Showing up here, on Sammy’s birthday after what they did to him. Harry’s hands are balled into fists at his sides, chest heaving as he tries to calm himself down. His knee begins to bounce, the anger getting the better of him.

Ryce, George and Scott — the three men who drove Sam off the road and ended his life. They remain staring, vile smirks tugging at the corners of their lips.

Harry’s consistent knee jitters finally catches Y/N’s attention and when she looks at him, she’s alarmed by his sudden change in composure. She can read that look on any man’s face. He’s got itchy knuckles.

“Harry,” she says softly, palm resting on his thigh.

He forces himself to tear his gaze away from the men and look down at her. Her brows are pinched, confusion evident in her voice. Harry plasters a fake, unbelieving smile on his face.

“Nothing,” he says tightly.

His gaze averts to his pint on the table and Y/N takes the opportunity to follow his previous line of sight. The three men are still looking over, all a little jagged on the edges. Their presence doesn’t sit well with Y/N.

Perhaps that’s because of how she’s seen Harry react to them, or maybe it’s just the uncomfortable stares and creepy vibe they exude.

Either way, it has her shuffling back into the booth and closer to Harry again.

It’s a little while later and a few drinks more when Y/N tells Harry she’s going to go home. He’s been on edge the past forty-five minutes and while Y/N was quick to forget the trio of strangers, Harry wasn’t.

He watched them for the final thirty minutes of their stay before he finally began to calm down a little. Harry’s still on edge and Y/N can tell, maybe that’s why she asks if he’ll walk her to her car.

He looks at her, brows pinched. “I’m not letting you behind a wheel, Penny. You’ve been drinking. I’ll drive you home.”

She tilts her head, that nickname awakening butterflies in her stomach. “You’ve been drinking, too,” she points out.

Harry smiles toothily. “But I can handle my drink and I’m sobered up anyway. Come on, I’ll take you home.��

Y/N doesn’t argue with that. She lets him grab her purse and guide her out of the booth, follows him through the group as they both say their goodbyes.

When they get outside and reach Y/N’s car, Harry opens the passenger door for her as she hands him his keys. It takes him a moment to get comfortable in her seat, familiarising himself with her model before he starts the engine and pulls out of the parking space.

The drive to her flat is quiet, a little bit of chit-chat here and there. She feels hot, watching him drive around in her car with ease. There’s something about it — the way his arms flex as he grips the wheel, how his tongue peeks out the corner of his mouth whenever he takes a tight turn.

She hates to admit that he drives better than her.

By the time they arrive back at her apartment building, Y/N’s feeling a lot more sober than when they first left the pub. She’s greeted with a hefty wave of arousal, however, when Harry reverses into her parking space with his arm on the back of her headrest.

It’s a struggle to walk up to her flat with her thighs clenched tightly together, but she makes it work and Harry doesn’t seem to notice. He walks her straight to her door, hands her the keys and watches as she unlocks it.

For some reason, Harry feels a little underwhelmed. He didn’t want the night to end so abruptly. He wanted to stay with her a little longer, maybe even get a little closer.

So when she turns around with a shy smile and presses onto her tiptoes to plant a kiss to his check, he’s a little taken aback.

It’s gentle, how her lips meet his skin, but she doesn’t cower back down after. Her face is still close, her lips just barely ghosting his as she slowly starts to pull away. Y/N’s eyes flicker up to meet Harry’s to find them already staring down at her.

She’s not sure if it’s the final effects of the alcohol or something else that possesses her to press her lips against his, but she lets the intrusive thoughts win. She kisses him and he kisses her back just as softly.

Her heart is racing, mind blank and she can’t think about anything other than the way his soft lips feel on hers and how his hands reach for her hips to hold her in place.

Harry’s the one that pulls away first, just enough for the tips of their noses to brush and he’s staring down at Y/N with blown pupils.

She swallows thickly, suddenly doubting the signs he suggested earlier this evening.

“I’m sorry,” she quickly says.

Harry shakes his head, his hold on her hips tightening. “Don’t be.”

His lips are back on hers, messier and needier than before. Y/N’s hands are quick to reach for his head — fingers tangling into his unruly hair.

Harry swipes his tongue across her bottom lip, parting her mouth until they taste one another. Amid the kiss, he guides her into the flat, kicking the door shut behind them with his foot.

Y/N’s hand leaves his hair and trails down his body in desperate search of something she can tug at. His find the backs of her thighs and with ease, lifts her in his hold. Legs wrapped around his waist, her arms circle his neck as he guides their bodies to the sofa, crawling on top of Y/N.

Harry kisses down her neck, nipping at the taut skin as she arches her back and her chest presses into his.

“Are you sure?” he mumbles against her collarbone.

Y/N nods, not an ounce of doubt in her mind. His fingers find the hem of her t-shirt and he rolls it up her body, tugging it off her arms and over her head.

She’s bare beneath it; with supple breasts and pearled nipples. Harry doesn’t think twice before leaning down and taking one into his mouth, swirling his tongue across the hardened nub.

Y/N’s back arches, chest pushing into his face as her fingertips continue to scratch at his scalp. Harry swirls his tongue around her, teeth biting down and a sharp gasp leaves her lips.

Trailing kisses up her clavicle, Harry meets her lips again, open mouths and hot tongues. He steadies his weight above her, slotted between her parted thighs.

“D’you have a condom?” he mutters into the kiss.

Y/N hums, sitting up as she chases his lips. “In the bedroom.”

He wraps her legs around his waist and lifts them both from the sofa, lips attached once again as he guides them to what he remembers to be her bedroom.

He’s allowed no time to take a look at her room, not that he’s interested anyway. Harry lays her flat in the middle of the bed, crawling on top to situate himself between her thighs again.

It’s dark, traces of moonlight barely seeping through the slits of her bedroom curtains. It offers an angelic hue over her soft body, a sight that Harry never wants to forget.

Her fingers tug at the hem of his t-shirt, swooping underneath to feel the warm, toned skin of his abdomen. Harry leans back on his knees just enough to allow him space to remove his top, flinging it somewhere across the darkened room.

Y/N admires him for a moment, swallowing thickly. His pupils are blown, lips swollen and pink. She watches the way Harry’s chest rises and falls with each breath, takes a second to gawk at the divots of his abs and the dark tattoos that ink his golden skin.

She expects him to crawl back over her body, to kiss her like his life depends on it. But he doesn’t. Instead, his fingers loop into the waistband of her flared leggings and he slowly pulls them down the length of legs.

It leaves her almost bare, wearing just a simple black thong but the sight of it has Harry’s cock twitching in his pants. His gaze roams up her body until he finds her eyes, blown and hooded. He doesn’t break that contact as he stands from the bed and unbuckles his belt. He continues to stare into her soul as he tugs them down his toned thighs and kicks them off to the side.

Y/N’s breath hitches in her throat in anticipation of the big reveal. But he doesn’t offer it. He climbs back onto the bed, heavy palms hot on her inner thighs as he spreads her legs apart for him.

She breaks eye contact first, eyes fluttering closed when Harry slowly inches his face closer to her clothed cunt. She feels his hot breath fan over her lower tummy, feels him nip at the skin by her hip before his fingers loop into the top of her panties and he drags them down to her ankles.

She’s bare before him, core soaked and puffy from arousal. Harry doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything so fucking sexy and delicious in his entire life, and it takes all self-restraint to not bury his face between her thighs for the foreseeable future.

He doesn’t know what she wants or what she likes, so to play it safely, Harry peppers kisses from her ankles to her tummy and noses at the underside of her breasts. Their lips meet soon after, Y/N’s fingers tangling in his hair.

She blindly reaches for her bedside table, fingers nimbly searching for a foil packet. Her mind feels dizzy – hazy – at the feeling of Harry’s mouth on hers. She’s seeping down onto the mattress, her arousal too much all at once as his body rests between her legs; his cock nudging against her inner thigh beneath the fabric of his boxers.

Harry reaches a hand down between their bodies, can practically feel the heat from her hot cunt as his fingers hover over her slit. He gently pushes his middle finger through her folds, his skin immediately immersed in wetness as he does so.

Y/N gasps softly into his mouth, hips involuntarily bucking against his hand. “Please,” she whimpers, voice quiet.

The sound of her begging has his cock leaping, desperate to be buried inside her. Harry bites back a groan and swirls his finger around her arousal, spreading it across her cunt. He teases at her puckering hole, watches how her body responds to his touch. Like she was fucking made for him.

“You’re so wet, Penny.”

She shakes her head, breaking her lips from his. “Don’t call me that,” she laughs breathily, “Not when we’re doing this.”

Harry grins against her mouth, pulling away just enough to get a better look at her face. God, she’s fucking stunning.

With his eyes on hers, he gently pushes his finger through her cunt, cock twitching at just how tight she clamps around him.

“Okay, baby. Whatever you want.”

Her eyes roll to the back of her head, Harry’s smirk growing tenfold. He moves his wrist slowly, curling his finger against the spongy part of her g-spot as small, broken whimpers escape her lips.

He wants to kiss her, feel her plump lips on his again but the sight is too consuming. Watching her face contort in the pleasure that he’s inflicting her.

“Har, please.”

Her voice does something to him, something sinister and desperate. He coos down at her, enjoying the dynamic they seem to have a bit too much — how she submits to his touch and gives him all control.

“Be patient, baby. You’re so tight, I need to stretch you out a little for me first.”

He adds a second finger, struggles to tuck them into her cunt as he quickens the pace of his hand. She feels the burn of the intrusion but welcomes it regardless. His fingers are thick, stretching her better than hers do.

Y/N’s hips begin to roll against his palm, eagerly chasing more when he doesn’t offer it. He’s bulging in his boxers, desperate for relief with every sweet cry she mumbles out.

“Please, Har. I need you.”

He struggles to keep himself composed at how needy she sounds. Harry backs up onto his knees, continues fucking her with his fingers and uses his other hand to shimmy down his boxers.

Y/N watches with wide eyes. He’s huge – long and thick and so much fucking bigger than anything that she’s ever had before. The sight of him makes her stomach twitch in nerves, worried she won’t be able to take him.

Harry seems to notice her inner turmoil as he snatches the condom from the side of the bed and tears the foil open with his teeth. He removes his fingers from her cunt, brings them to his lips to get a taste.

She’s sweet on his tongue, and in that moment, Harry makes a promise to himself that this won’t be just a one-time thing.

“Don’t worry, baby,” he says, pinching the tip of the condom and rolling it down his thick length. “I’ll make it fit.”

She shudders when he lines himself with her dripping hole, swirling his tip around her arousal and gently nudging his way through. The burn is unlike before – much more prominent and harsh. And it doesn’t ease the further he fills her. She struggles to take him, to stretch around his cock. But Harry will fuck into her all night to get her accustomed to his size. To break her in.

Harry thinks he could explode at any minute. It’s been a long time since he’d had a cunt grip him the way hers does. And he knows full well just how good she’ll milk him dry of everything he has to offer.

He grits his teeth in an attempt to control his desire of fucking her silly. Not yet, he has to tell himself. She’s not ready for that.

“Doin’ so well, baby. So fuckin’ tight.”

Her head rolls back and his words offer a sweet relief to the initial sting. With every gentle whisper he breathes, she takes more and more of him. He’s close to nudging at her cervix, close to bottoming out.

“More,” she chokes. “Fuck me, Har. I need more.”

His movements are on the slower side to begin with – a proven struggle to pull out and back in with how tight her pussy grips him. But with every thrust of Harry’s hips, the better she stretches and the deeper he goes.

Her tits begin to bounce on her chest with every harsh movement he offers. Y/N’s hands reach for them, fingers tweaking at her hardened nipples and her hips move in circles against his own.

Harry sits back on his knees to watch as he fucks her, to admire just how good he’s making her feel. She’s breathless, brows pinched and mouth parted. He wants to touch and taste every fucking inch of her body – to bury himself so deep inside she begs him to never leave.

It’s primal, how he looks at her, thinks of her. The idea of anyone else having her like this makes him sick, angry. The thought alone has his vision blurring red and he struggles to snap out of such a dominant and protective mindset.

His. She’s all his whether she knows it or not.

“Tight little cunt, baby. Jesus Christ… fucking made for me.”

It’s filthy, the way he spits at her is the most sexy thing. How he claims her, owns her. No one could ever fuck her the way he is, no one could have her withering and begging and crying in pleasure. No one but him.

“Yes, yes,” she pants out.

All she wants is to please him, give him everything he wants and take anything he’ll offer in return. Her body starts to melt, into his touch, his words, his presence. He’s taking her somewhere she’s never been before and there’s no better feeling.

Harry’s cock rubs deliciously against her her g-spot, pinching at her cervix the deeper he gets. She’s soaked him, fully – his cock and his pubic bone. And the squelching sound her pussy makes is music to his fucking ears.

He’s struggling to see straight, eyes glossy as sweat begins to dot his hairline. If she feels this good now, he can’t imagine how warm and wet she’d feel raw – without the flimsy rubber between them. He’ll dream of it, how soft her cunt would be wrapped around his cock.

Christ, the thought has him twitching between her walls, splutters of guttural moans falling from his lips. The sounds are fuel to Y/N’s fire, her eyes snapping open to finally take a look at him.

He’s fucked out, head thrown back and bottom lip tight between his teeth. His stomach is tensed, knuckles white as he grips her hips, and it’s all because of her. She’s got him feeling like this, so fucked out and feral.

Y/N grinds her hips against him, faster now as she meets his pace. She’s sitting up on her elbows to watch where his cock nuzzles into her, watching how her arousal soaks the base of his cock and his lower tummy.

She can feel him in her stomach, how he’s almost nudging at her organs to make room for himself. She’s never felt so excited before, bare and naked – fucking under the moonlight in her pitch-black bedroom.

Maybe it’s the excitement or maybe it’s Harry’s fingers rubbing at her clit that sends her spiralling – sobbing out his name and begging for mercy. He doesn’t relent, he won’t. He wants to feel her exploding around him, wants to feel her close in on him until he’s releasing deep in her cunt, albeit in the condom.

It hits her like a fist – straight in her face. She’s coming over his cock, legs trembling and cunt convulsing as she sobs.

“Fuckkk, Daddy, please!”

Harry’s orgasm creeps up on him as his eyes widen at the name. He comes with her, fast and hard and if he wasn’t wearing a condom, he’d already be dripping out of her. Y/N’s legs continue to tremble, cunt squeezing him so tight that Harry thinks he could pass out.

He’s desperate to catch his breath, and she’s no better. Gentle whimpers continue to rake through her body as she slowly settles down from her high. Harry stares down at her, fucked out and body limp. The reality of what they’ve just done sits heavy in his stomach and he worries she’ll ask him to leave, that she regrets it.

But she doesn’t. Instead, Y/N whimpers his name as he slowly pulls out and reaches her hands down for him. He coos her, taps her thigh gently before tugging off the condom and tying it up.

She lies there, alone as Harry leaves the room. Worry is quick to consume her, the anxiety that he’s about to leave without another word. But he doesn’t. He returns to her bedroom with a damp cloth and his boxers back on his lower half.

He’s gentle as he wipes her down, helps settle her tired and aching body beneath a blanket and she doesn’t want to be the type that cries after sex, but no one has ever given her this kind of aftercare before. It all feels a little too domestic.

Not to Harry. Not really, anyway – he’s not the type to fuck and leave, not usually. It doesn’t feel foreign to help her get clean or tuck her in, and he only surprises her further when he lays beside her under the blanket, too.

“You’re staying?” she peeps out.

Harry hums, face close to hers. “If you want me to.” Her eyes are heavy as she covers her mouth to stifle a yawn.

“At least wait until I’m asleep before you sneak out.”

So, he does.

Thank you for sticking it out lol, part two will be posted next week, so let me know if you want to be added to my general tag list to be notified <3

Feedback is always welcomed and appreciated!!

Tags: @kissfromadove @stilesissaved @kiwitsayedsugar @savannahwendel @triski73 @stylesfever

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles smut #imagine harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles fic #harry styles oneshot #the box #boxerry

645 notes · View notes

gay-dorito-dust · 3 days

Note

Can I request batboys learn of reader's fake death, she is on a mission and they find her.

Reader can be read as gn or whoever you see fit.

Dick

‘Is that you?’ Dick asks softly as he neared you.

‘No.’ You replied in hopes that he’d leave but you knew deep down that he wouldn’t, not if leaving meant leaving you behind also. Not the way you chose to erase yourself out of the picture for this stupid suicide mission.

Dick on the other hand was hellbent to not loose you again, the house you both built wasn’t a home if you weren’t in it to share it with him and Hayley, the poor dog was still fast sleeping on your side of the bed before Dick left for his nightly patrol; Hayley missed you very much and would whimper when she realises that your scent was slowly fading away.

It hurt Dick more then he liked to admit, and he tried to suppress it for as long as he could but he would often find himself trying to look for you in other people, other things but it always ended with him looking at the pictures of the two of you on the wall and feeling nothing but cold. Everything felt out of place without you but Dick would always try to act as though he was coping better then he was behind closed doors doors, clutching at the clothes you’ll never wear again as he silently sobs into the fabric.

Now here you were stood before him in what people would call as pure coincidence or luck because anyone would give anything to see their lost ones again, absolutely anything, even if it was by morally questionable means and Dick can understand the reason why that might be.

‘I- I wish I could tell you but I can’t.’ You replied, not wanting to put Dick in danger because of the dangerous people you’ve wronged.

‘Why not?’ Dick asked, worried that something had happened when he wasn’t nearby to help.

‘It doesn’t concern you.’ You told him as you tried to make distance but Dick was quick to close it. ‘It does concern me if it involves you.’ He says lowly, gently reaching out to hold your face to make sure this was real and not a dream and when you leaned into his touch, eyes closed shut Dick lets out a relieved sigh as his thumbs stroke your cheeks. ‘So please, don’t make me loose you again. let me help.’ He whispered, resting his forehead against yours.

Now you really couldn’t reject his help, he made it impossible just like how he made it impossible for you not to fall in love with him all over again.

Tim

Didn’t know what to expect from what he was seeing.

He had heard that there was someone of your stature going about town during the night but he wasn’t one to believe it until he’s seen it with his own eyes. So when he did catch of glimpse of you or someone pretending to be you, he didn’t know what to do, he was brought back to where he was when he found out about your supposed death; helpless and confused as to how such a thing could happen.

It wasn’t until your eyes met his did Tim feel his blood go cold from how dull and borderline dead your eyes looked when glaring right at him. There was a flash of familiarity but that was gone before Tim could blink, something was wrong, very wrong but he didn’t know what exactly.

You weren’t…well you.

Now Tim did have dreams about what he’d do if you were to be magically reanimated, brought back to life but those were dreams for a reason, a alternative reality that didn’t abide to realism or the more likeliest of outcomes; this was reality and reality wasn’t pretty and is often disappointing on most accounts.

So Tim stood there, frozen as you made a quick exit, much to the confusion of his siblings -Dick and Damian- who knew how hard your death had struck Tim, they didn’t need to be told how difficult it must’ve been to see your dead partner somehow alive again.

‘Are you okay?’ Dick asks.

‘Somethings wrong.’ Tim said. ‘Why would they feel the need to fake their own death and not tell me about it beforehand?’ He asks himself.

‘Only if someone powerful wanted you dead.’ Damian suggested. ‘What other reason is there besides that one?’

‘If that’s truly is the case,’ Tim began as he looked between Dick and Damian, ‘then why reappear after only a week? It’d be common sense to stay low for far longer until the smoke clears, unless...’

Dick then places a hand on Tim’s shoulder. ‘Looks like we’ve got work to do.’

Tim wasn’t certain what he would do if you ever did come back, but now it seems as though he did know; to save you from whatever has been nipping at your heels.

Jason

Wasn’t sure whether or not the sleepless nights had finally caught up to him ever since your passing, spending them staring at the door to your shared bedroom as though you’d magically walk through it with a smile, telling him that everything that had happened was just a nightmare before kissing him on the forehead and cuddling into his side to fall asleep.

However Jason had pinched his skin that many times to know well enough that was all a fallacy created by his own mind because he didn’t want you seeing the man he’d become from whether afterlife you resided in.

So when he spotted sow thing he believes looked a lot like your silhouette, his body followed after it, much like it did whenever things pertaining to you sparked that sense of familiarity within him, that sense of home and belonging. However this lack of subtly on his end didn’t end up well as he was soon enough laid flat out on his back as your masked face hovered over his.

‘Why were you following me?’ You asked through gritted teeth.

‘I thought you were dead.’ He replied In disbelief.

‘That was the plan until you ruined it.’ You grunted as you pulled him up to his feet, ‘you weren’t followed were you?’ You asked as your eyes shifted from shadow to shadow.

‘No, listen sweetheart-‘ Jason tried to speak but you sharply shushed him. ‘What’s going on, you can tell me.’ He now whispers and you sigh, finding it hard to exist within the same space as Jason without hugging him to death, but you couldn’t risk dragging him into your troubles.

‘I can’t.’ You tell him, knowing that there was a heartbroken expression behind that red helmet of his, ‘and even if I can all I would be allowed to say is that some bad people are after me.’ Jason’s shoulders tensed at this.

‘Why did you say anything earlier.’ He asked, he was holding back from exploding because had this been brought up earlier then maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t have to be subjected to witnessing your ‘death.’ ‘I could’ve helped you out-‘

‘And risk you becoming their next target? Not thanks Jason I already lost you once I’m not doing it again.’ You tell him firmly but he wasn’t having it, not after what you put him through. ‘And I thought I lost you or has that not ever come to mind.’ He bites back with the sharpness of someone who was deeply hurt by the actions of someone who he loved more than life.

‘Jason.’ You tried to say but you knew him better then most, once his mind had been made up there was little chance to change it.

‘No. I’m going to help you get out of this mess, either you want me to or not, this is my war now.’ Jason tells you as he marched ahead. You sighed as you followed after him.

This was going to be a long night.

433 notes · View notes

lovebittenbyevans · 3 days

Text

Only His Sweetheart | One Shot

Summary: After the summer break is over, you start to notice some new faces on campus this year when you didn’t expect to see frat boy Oscar Piastri being around you more lately.

Pairing: fratboy! Oscar Piastri x nerd! Female Reader

Warnings: cursed words

Author note: My first time writing about Oscar. @harrysfolklore made me do it lol jk 😂 Enjoy reading!

“Fuck!” You heard someone say behind you.

You were still looking at the test you got back from your professor. You can’t believe you passed his test even though his test was hard last semester. You were proud of yourself that studying was starting to pay off.

The summer break you wanted to relax and keep your mind occupied by studying and relearning about what your professors taught you in biology class.

“For those who didn’t pass. I suggest you find a tutor and don’t even think about failing this semester or you being dropped from my class this year.” The Professor told everyone.

You got up from your seat and started to stuff your books into your backpack. “You failed again, Oscar?” Another voice said.

“Shut up, Charles.” The guy voice had a heavy accent.

You closed your backpack and sled it onto your shoulder. You almost walked out the class when Professor Rowan called out to you. “Y/N.” You paused for a second and turned to look at him. “Yes?”

“Great work on the test.” He says.

You nodded and turned to leave, heading directly down the hallway. You realized some of your classmates still look the same and haven't changed a bit over the summer.

Placing your backpack on the table within the library, you proceeded to a genre and checked out the books on the shelf. You love coming to the library when you have no class for the day.

As you take a book off the shelf and turn it to read the back, you hear a voice behind you. “G’Day.” Glancing over your shoulder, you noticed one of the fraternity boys. “Can I help you?”

He exhales and clears his throat. “Are you Y/N? I heard Professor Rowan say your name.”

You nodded. “Yeah, why?” You were just curious because barely any guys in this school talked to you.

“Well.” He scratched the back of his neck. “I was wondering if you can tutor me in biology.”

You raised an eyebrow. “And you are?” Deep down you knew exactly who he is.

“I’m Oscar Piastri.” He extended his hand and you glanced down at his hand before glancing at his face.

You didn’t bother to shake his hand. You was not going to greet a person who already thinks the world revolves around them.

“No.” You said, honestly.

For a moment, he had a frown on his face but his expression turned into disappointment. “Why?” He didn’t think you would turn him down so quickly.

You let out a fake laugh. “Have you met yourself? You frat boys don’t take shit serious about anything.” You walked passed him returning to your empty table, pulled out the chair and sat down with the book in your hand.

Oscar Piastri is always the talk on campus. Girls love him even when they want something more with him. You heard rumors about how he treats the girls and how he is with his frat boy friends.

You don’t want nothing to do with him

“Y/N.” He pulls out the chair across from you and sat down placing his green backpack on the table. “Sweetheart, I need this or I will be off the baseball team.”

You opened the book flipping to the third page. “That’s not my problem.”

Oscar was kind of shocked the way you were being right now. He never had a girl decline him ever. Normally girls would want to be around him twenty four seven.

He sighs, leaning back in his chair. “Can you at least tell me how–” You interrupted him by not showing how annoyed you felt. “Studying is the key, that's how I pass. You should try it.”

You was still fixated on the book. You was getting annoyed because nobody ever interrupted your reading time at all. You actually wish you could punch him in the face.

“Sweetheart.” He repeated that nickname one more time. “Please.” His voice was soft, barely a whisper.

You let out a frustrated sigh. “Oh my fucking god!” You mumbles, closing your book while your gaze meets his. “If I tutor you, you have to be all in and serious.”

“Ok.” He replied with a smile.

You tell him. “Just let me know what your schedule is like and we will take it from there.” You honestly didn’t want to tutor him but at the same time you only gave in so he shut up for the most part and hopefully leaves you alone.

He takes his phone out of his pocket and slides his phone across the table toward you. “Give me your number and I’ll let you know.” You nodded, taking his phone, putting your number in for him.

“Only text me about tutoring, nothing else.” You gave him back his phone.

A slight smirk showed up on his lips. “Got it!” You rolled your eyes as you heard your phone buzzing in your pocket. You took your phone out of your pocket and saw an unknown number but you already knew it was him.

You added his name into your contacts when a girl sat down on his lap. “Baby, I was looking all for you.” She gave him a kiss on the cheeks twice.

“Calla.” Oscar pushed her off of him gently. “I’m in the middle of a conversation with someone here.

She scoffs as her eyes dart at you. “Excuse me? Who are you?”

Here we fucking go

You placed the book on the table while taking your backpack off the table. “I’ll see you around, Oscar.”

Another bullshit jealous girl you thought to yourself

You sling your backpack over your shoulder as she blocked your path for a second. “You didn’t answer my question.” She said loudly.

“Calla, leave her alone.” Oscar spoke up. “Always trying to start some shit.”

You pushed past her making your way out of the library thinking Oscar was definitely not going to leave you alone anytime soon. You were fucked.

#oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri x fem!reader #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x female reader #f1 x y/n #formula one #formula one x reader #formula one x you #formula one x y/n #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 x female reader #formula 1 x y/n #oscar x reader

426 notes · View notes

beenbaanbuun · 3 days

Text

punishment - opposites attract universe

words - 3.9k

genre - smut

warnings - fem!reader restraints, riding, guidance, cumming in underwear, the usual nicknames (dove, darling, lamb, good girl, etc), nipple play (m!receiving) insecurity, comfort sex, creampie, clit play, i think thats it but please tell me if otherwise!!!

“You can tie it tighter than that, dove,” Hongjoong sighs, sounding almost disappointed as you try your hardest to pin his wrists to the headboard. A part of you wants to look behind you to where Seonghwa sits comfortably in a nearby armchair, but even with your most pathetic pleas, you doubt he’d be willing to step in and help. This is your punishment after all. You made your bed, now you have to lie in it. “Especially if you're going to use this flimsy stuff; I like it to bite a little.”

He thrusts his rigid cock up against your bare core as he says the word bite, the pearlescent liquid that spills from the tip smearing messily against your clit. You bite your lip to withhold the moan, but it doesn't matter; Hongjoong can read the pleasure on your face loud and clear anyway. It's in the way your eyes flutter closed for just a second or two, brows furrowing and forehead wrinkling. He chuckles teasingly, taunting you with the fact that even though you're the one tying him down, he still has the power.

“What, did that feel good, dove?” he asks, a smirk evident in his tone. You don't respond, unsure as to whether or not you’d be able to keep yourself from breaking down and begging to switch places with the man. Instead, you simply huff out a breath and open your eyes, ready to get back to the task at hand. This won’t stop until you make him cum, and devils below you need this to stop.

You weren't made for this. You're a taker, not a giver; built to lie there prettily and moan and cum until your mommy and daddy are satiated. How you long for your lovers to tug at you until you're lay how they want, for Seonghwa to pin you to his chest as Hongjoong buries himself in your pussy, for Hongjoong to whisper sweet nothings whilst Seonghwa fucks Hongjoong’s load back into your weeping hole. Maybe you should’ve thought about that before giving Yeosang that blowjob in the dining room.

Maybe you should’ve tried harder to convince San not to say a word.

Seonghwa tuts behind you, returning your mind to the task at hand. The pretty pink ribbons won't tie themselves around Hongjoong’s wrists and you know that. It doesn't stop you from letting out a pathetic whine though. “Don’t start with me, Lamb,” he purrs dangerously, “you put yourself in this position, not me,” he takes a sip of his red wine, smacking his lips before swallowing it down. You can't see him but you just know that the red stain he’d bound to wear upon his lips must look immaculate. Demons, how you want to be in Hongjoong’s position right now. “It's hardly my fault you think you’re too good to obey instructions. Now hop to it, Darling; the sooner you do what you're told, the sooner this will all end.”

He’s right, you admit to yourself as your fingers begin to work on the knots again. Just make Hongjoong cum and this will all be over.

You tug on the knot to tighten it, sparing a glance towards Hongjoongs expression every now and then to try and gauge it correctly. It doesn't go unnoticed by him, the man’s smirk growing with every passing look in his direction. It's the same look he gives you when you're writhing beneath him, whining out ‘daddy’ as you beg for more. He’s in charge then, just as he's in charge now. He might be the one getting tied up, but he certainly isn't the one who's going to be crying before the night is over. What’s a punishment without a few tears here and there?

“Stop looking at me and focus on the knot,” he says, his tone cocky and annoying, “you’re big and brave enough to play with your pet without permission but you have to have reassurance when you're tying a pretty little bow? Where has all that boldness gone, Dove?”

Being bold is the last thing on your mind right now. Tie the knot, make Hongjoong cum, get pampered for being good and taking your punishment well; that's all you care about right now. You can be a brat another day, at this exact moment in time, you just need to be good. You give the knot one last sharp tug before deciding that's enough. You finish it off with a bow before slipping a finger beneath it to test the tightness. It's what Seonghwa always does when he dresses you up in pretty bows purely for the purpose of gazing upon you like you're a work of art. It only feels right to give Hongjoong the same treatment.

He gives you a pleased hum, his wicked smile morphing into something much softer for just a moment or two. Had you blinked, you would've perhaps missed it. You’re glad you didn't.

“Bold isn't what I would call what our precious Darling did, Mi Amor,” Seonghwa says. The chair creeks, the sound of Seonghwa standing echoing around the room. Your breath hitches in anticipation as the familiar click, click, click of his healed pumps grows louder and louder. You feel his breath brush against your bare skin as he leans down, “Keeping your escapades a secret is hardly something a bold individual would do, now is it Lamb?” His saccharine voice sticks to your brain like melted candy. Gone is his usual kind sweetness, replaced with something artificial and too good to be true. It's a stark contrast to the barely-there kiss he presses to your cheek–a reminder that you’re still their good girl, even if they are being a little mean.

“No, mommy,” you whimper out just as he pulls his face away from yours. There's a chuckle, more akin to his regular cadence than you expected. It's soft and buttery and warm, everything you know Seonghwa to be outside of punishments. You melt as he dives in for another kiss, nuzzling his nose against your temple in a way that has you forgetting that you're even in trouble in the first place.

“Good girl,” he whispers into your skin, cushiony lips tickling your skin before pulling away once more, this time for good, “It's a shame you only start behaving when you have to face the consequences of misbehaving, though. You have to be made to squirm a little before you decide to listen, hm?” a hand trails its way up your spine making you shudder. The way you grind down on Hongjoong is unintentional, but it still fetches a deep guttural grunt from his lips. It stops your heart in place, the sound so beautiful that you think it makes you fall in love with him all over again. It's nothing new; each day you find something like that. Something that makes your heart speed up in your chest just like it did when you lay eyes on them for the very first time.

You want to do it again, but Seonghwa’s fingers move up to the back of your head and lace themselves in your hair. You brace yourself for the tug that’s bound to come any second now. It still makes you wince when he tightens his fist.

“Now behave for me, won't you? Ride your daddy until he fills you up nice and full of cum, Lamb,” the hand that isn't in your hair reaches over your shoulder and dives down until it's resting atop your tummy. He drums his fingers against the plush flesh before letting them come to a standstill just below your navel. “It shouldn’t be so hard since you obviously know best. You’re so independent, right? You can do this without our help.” And just like that his touch is gone and he steps away. You hear him retreat back to his chair, the creak of the old leather letting you know when he’s sunk back down onto it.

It feels bizarrely lonely, in a way. Sitting there with no soft touches from either of your lovers, having to move and think for yourself. There's no warm hand to hold your waist and guide you, no whispers in your ear to send your overactive brain silent. You're cold and lonely and devils you're thinking way too much. You want it to stop, so with a shaky breath, you use Hongjoong’s chest to stabilise yourself as you push your hips up. With one hand you line yourself up with his cock and sit, moaning as he stretches you out. It's a little painful; they normally spend an age prepping you before even thinking about using their cocks. Perhaps they thought you and Yeosang had gone further than a simple blowjob. Maybe they didn't realise you hadn't already been opened up.

“So tight, darling,” Hongjoong muses, his face screwing up in pleasure as he bottoms out, completely sheathed within your walls. You do what you assume is the right thing and tense around him; he gives you a moan and you can't help but let it inflate your ego just a touch. It might be easier than you assumed to make him cum. Maybe you’ll be in his arms before you even know it! “But I don't recall you being asked to just warm me up. Ride me, pretty girl. Make me cum inside your tight fucking cunt, hm?”

You almost whimper at his instructions. Despite your newfound belief in yourself, you still don't want to be in this position. Your cunt might be stuffed full but you still feel weirdly empty. With a sigh, you remind yourself that the quicker you make him cum, the quicker you get taken care of. You brace your hands on his chest and grind your hips against his. He gives you a contented groan, eyes fluttering closed with pleasure.

You can do this; you can get what you want.

You continue to move your hips back and forth, tucking your bottom lip between your teeth as the pain slowly turns into pleasure. It's not hard to find a careful rhythm but it certainly is to maintain it. The moment his tip grinds up against that divine spot within you, you stutter, your movements almost lagging for a moment or two before the man beneath you bucks his hips up into yours. It serves as a reminder of your task, and you return to your prior pace once more.

But it's not enough. Hongjoong is moaning and sighing but the longer you continue the more you become aware that he is no closer to orgasm than he was when you started riding him. In fact, that initial motion, the first grind of your hips; that's probably when he felt it most, the urge to spill his seed inside of your tight hole. You can move as much as you want, change your pace as often as you feel necessary, but nothing is going to alter the fact that you simply cannot make him cum.

It's a harsh reality to face, and you can’t help but let it go to your head. You feel almost worthless, although that's probably too harsh of a word. Useless may be more suited to the emotions rushing through your body. If you can't make Hongjoong cum then what? You don't cook or clean, or provide any income. You're not as business-minded as Hongjoong and you don't have the tender touch that Seonghwa gives to all his plants. You’ve never been skilled at following instructions and caring for people like San is and you can hardly fill Yeosang’s shoes when it comes to being, well, Yeosang. What exactly are you good for?

It's almost laughable, the idea that something so small could set off a whirlwind of insecurity in your mind. You can't make your lover cum by yourself, so what? It's not like you've never made him cum, right? You made him cum just this morning… You try and hone in on that, but it doesn't quite work. If you make him cum by lying there and looking pretty, are you really making him cum at all? Or is he making himself cum using your body…

Your hips come to a standstill, your pelvis sinking down until all your weight rests on Hongjoong’s. “I can't make you cum,” you state simply, “I'm trying so hard and I-” your voice cracks and you have to stop to suck in a deep breath. One that you hope will clear the lump in your throat. It doesn't, and you can't swallow it down; you squeeze your eyes shut and the dam just… breaks. “I can't make you cum, Hongjoong.”

You miss the way he winces at the sound of his own name. It's something so small but it feels so wrong to hear it when his cock is buried deep within you. Perhaps it was the sound of the blood rushing through your ears that blocks the sound of him whispering the word back to you as his face grows concerned. Your gaze drops to his stomach and you don't see the worried glance he passes over your shoulder to his husband, still nursing his wine with a thoughtful look on his face. Seonghwa frowns as Hongjoong, usually so sure of himself, looks to him for guidance. Truth be told, Seonghwa needs guidance in this situation too. He glances at your sad form and-

Oh…

Guidance.

“Lamb,” he coos as he rises from his chair, voice soft yet somehow still dominant. There's no hint of condescension left, nor is there any sign of teasing; it's just pure, undiluted Seonghwa. Like a warm shower, it washes over you and you heave in a sob. So gentle, so kind, and for what? For someone who has no use outside of sitting and looking pretty. You hate it. “What's wrong with my precious girl, hm? Since when did you doubt yourself so much?”

The click, click, click of his heels rings through the room again, except this time its less like the daunting countdown of a ticking time bomb and more like the familiar grandfather clock that sits just down the hallway outside of Yeosang’s room. It brings you comfort, acting as a palm tree in your tsunami of emotions. You grab onto the sound and don't let go until it suddenly comes to a stop by your side. Your heart stops as the sound stops, but then a warm pair of lips descend on your cheek and everything is just a little bit better again.

“Since when does my darling Lamb give up just because you can't do something?” a finger trails up your spine, stopping just as it reaches the nape of your neck. It twists itself into your hair, tugging just enough so that your eyes meet Hongjoong’s again. Big and brown and full of empathy. Your heart breaks for him; he shouldn't feel bad for something that's your fault. “My lamb killed nearly all the cacti in her Mommy’s greenhouse just because you wanted to learn how to garden; you haven't given that up even though your newest cactus is waterlogged and rotting.”

Try as you might, you can't see the relevance of Seonghwa’s anecdote. So what? You're bad at gardening; it's just another thing to add to the list.

“And you've not once beaten your Daddy at a game of chess, have you?” he gives you a beat or two to mumble out an affirmation, taking that time to kick his shoes off and crawl into the bed himself. He positions himself right behind you, one hand still nestled in your hair, holding your gaze on Hongjoong, and the other snaking its way around your waist. “Yet you don't let that stop you from challenging him to a match every single day, my love. You know why that is?”

You shake your head and Seonghwa gives you a little chuckle.

“Because you just don't give up, Lamb,” he pushes his chest flush against your back, grinding his own body into yours to guide your hips. Hongjoong grunts as Seonghwa forces you to pick your movements up once more; slow and sensual yet somehow still firm, just like the man himself. “I actually don't think you're capable of knowing when to stop,” another roll of his hips has Hongjoong’s cock bumping into your most sensitive spot. You break your sad little sniffles with a moan. “Sometimes you just need a little guidance in the right direction, Lamb.”

With Seonghwa rutting against your back, you find it a little easier to let go. To let your thoughts melt away into whispers as you let the pleasure fill your mind instead. They’re still there, reminding you that even now you're not the one giving him pleasure and pushing Hongjoong to the edge. Ever the empath, though, Seonghwa puts your mind at ease with a series of kisses to your jawline. When he bites down just below your ear, it's like those thoughts never existed in the first place. You moan, the sound of it blocking out the bad.

Hongjoong purrs beneath you, chest heaving beneath your hands that are splayed across his pectorals. You get an idea which you execute without a second thought. He'd just look too pretty with crescent moons painted across his pale skin so you don't even try and stop your fingers from curling and your nails digging in. He lets out a shaky breath, his eyes scrunching closed with some sort of masochistic pleasure. That part was all you, you tell the cruel thoughts in your mind as you drag your nails down his chest to make him whimper. The sound he makes as they catch against his nipples is unholy, as are the soft moans Seonghwa chants into your ear each time his hard cock presses into your lower spine.

The voice in your head goes silent.

“Fuck, dove,” Hongjoong voice is strained, barely breaking through the string of grunts and curses he lets out every time your fingers brush against the stiffened buds on his chest, “so good; you're so good. You're our darling, aren't you?” you nod, fully convinced that every word he tells you is the truth, “say it, dove. Tell us you're our darling.”

“I’m your darling,” your voice catches as Seonghwa snakes his hand down to your pussy, fingers spreading your folds until you’re sure Hongjoong has an unobstructed view of your swollen clit. A lithe finger begins to toy with it and your body goes limp in Seonghwa’s grasp.

“That’s it,” he murmurs as his finger moves expertly against you, “you're our darling, aren't you? So good for us, letting us push you around and please you. Letting us use your body to pleasure ourselves,” you moan in sync with Hongjoong, punctuating his sentence, “so what you're not good at riding yet; I can name a million other ways you make us happy.”

As if to emphasise his own words, he sighs into your ear, the motion of his hips becoming sloppy before stopping entirely. His breathing is ragged in your ear as he frees the hand from your hair and moves it to your hip to continue guiding you. He came, it seems, messily in his panties in a way that seems so unlike his tidy nature. The implications have you blushing; it seems as though he just couldn't hold himself back.

You don't have long to dwell on it though, not with the way his hands draw you back into that relentless rhythm and his fingers draw pretty pictures on your clit. It has you melting all over again, barely giving you time to form a relevant thought before making you squirm on Hongjoong’s cock. You're close, and you can tell your Daddy is too. It's written on his face, clear as day.

Hongjoong bucks his hips into yours just as Seonghwa leans in to place a few kisses against your temple. It's sweet, but it's undercut by the familiar warmth that fills you up, erupting from the cock that your daddy keeps nestled tightly within your cunt. You bite down on your lip to hold your own moan back, wanting nothing to interrupt the beautiful sound Hongjoong makes. Seonghwa’s movement slows to a stop, letting you just warm his husband’s soft cock for now.

“Beautiful girl,” Hongjoong breathes out, chest heaving and eyes glazed over with adoration, “the prettiest place for me to put my cum, aren't you.”

“So pretty,” Seonghwa agrees, speeding up his fingers in just that right way to make the knot in your stomach tighten, “and so good, taking her punishment like the good girl she is.” He taps his finger against your clit and you can't help but squirm. Hongjoong growls, bucking his own hips from the overstimulation. Seonghwa giggles prettily as he draws you further and further to the edge, “Tell her she's a good girl, Mi Amor.”

“Such a good girl.”

You pull in a breath as you feel your orgasm wash over you like a wave. It pulls you down into the depths of pleasure, filling every cell of your being with that familiar buzz that comes hand-in-hand with good sex. You feel it every morning, every night, your two—and a half, if you count the werewolf who is no doubt pacing outside the door, meagrely awaiting his own punishment—lovers taking such good care of you. They fill you with their seed, remind you of your place between them, push you to your limits before bringing you in with endless amounts of love. They take care of you, and it finally seems to click in your brain that that's your place in this weird little family; they take care of you, and they want to take care of you. They like it. The part of your mind that says otherwise sinks into oblivion along with the remnants of your orgasm until all that's left is you, empty-headed and panting in Seonghwa’s arms and on Hongjoong’s cock.

Exactly where you belong.

Hongjoong lets out a chuckle, breaking the silence that had settled over the three of you, “well that was certainly eventful,” he says as he tilts his head back to get a view of the knots you tied. Despite being tighter than you originally intended to tie them, it's easy for him to slip free. Such a gentle little creature, he muses to himself, a dove through and through, “You seemed to have a lot on your mind; would you care to share?”

He takes a moment to move his hands, easing up the stiffness in his wrists before they travel to your hips and interlock seamlessly with Seonghwa’s. They hold you like you're porcelain, precious and priceless. It makes you light up inside.

“Yes, lamb,” the man behind you sighs, “I’d rather like to know what happened. I knew you weren't exactly going to enjoy being on top, but I never expected it to affect you quite so negatively. What exactly is going on in that precious mind of yours?”

You hum as you lean back against his body, wishing he wasn't still wearing clothes so you could feel just a smidge of his soft skin against your own. You'd have to make do with the warmth that permeates the silk; it's just enough to have you curling into his frame. “Nothing anymore,” you say, truthfully, “it was just a lapse of sanity; nothing for you to worry about.”

“Are you sure?” Seonghwa asks.

“Positive,” you giggle, wriggling gleefully on Hongjoong’sover-sensitivee cock until he frees his hand from Seonghwa’s and places a light spank upon the flesh of your thigh. It isn't enough to rid you of your giddiness, but it's certainly enough to still your movements, “I think you fucked the insanity out of me…”

#ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez oneshot #ateez fluff #ateez scenarios #ateez fic #ateez smut #opposites attract universe #seonghwa x reader #hongjoong x reader #matz x reader #poly ateez smut #poly ateez x reader

342 notes · View notes

woniedarlin · 2 days

Text

Flipped: Yang Jungwon

pairing: Jungwon x fem! reader

sypnosis: Since the age of 8, you've adored Jungwon, calling him your prince, but he's never reciprocated, finding you annoying, especially when you give him those goo-goo eyes. Despite the years that pass, your love for him remains unwavering, until a betrayal shakes your foundation. Now, as the tables turn, you find yourself ignoring him while he desperately pursues your forgiveness. Will this cycle of love and hurt ever find its resolution?

warnings: bittersweet, cussing, kissing

note: Hello, my lovely darlings! Based on the title, this is inspired by the movie ‘Flipped’. It took me a while to make this since I had writer’s block. So I deeply apologize if this disappoints you. Happy reading!

caution: Love’s journey may be fraught with betrayal, heartache, and unexpected twists. Brace yourself for an emotional rollercoaster.

tag list: @sol3chu @hwanchaesong @manduhao @velvetkisscs

Jungwon

I felt a mixture of uncertainty and reluctance as I sat in the car, watching unfamiliar houses pass by. Moving to a new home meant leaving behind everything familiar, and I wasn’t sure how to feel about it. Each house we passed seemed like a marker of the unknown. My parents assured me it was for the best—a new job for Dad, a fresh start for all of us—but I couldn’t shake the feeling of unease. The streets, the buildings, and even the trees looked different. Nothing felt right.

Then, through the car window, I saw a girl around my age sitting in front of a small house. Our eyes met for a split second before I quickly looked away, feeling a flush of discomfort. She seemed to hold my gaze longer than necessary, making me even more uneasy.

As the car parked in front of our new house, my heart sank. This was it. Our new beginning. My mother’s cheerful welcome and the sight of the moving van were supposed to reassure me, but the knot in my stomach tightened. I missed our old home, my friends, and the familiarity of it all.

The next day, my apprehension lingered. I stood by the window, noticing the house across from ours—a smaller, less impressive home. I wondered who lived there. Then the doorbell rang, interrupting my thoughts. My mom called me to meet someone. Reluctantly, I obeyed, dragging my feet as I approached the door.

Standing there was the girl I had seen the day before, holding a plate of rice cakes. Her eyes lit up when she saw me.

“So, this lovely girl gave us rice cakes because we moved in. Please get to know her. I’m sure you two will be great friends,” my mother said with a big smile, pushing me gently towards her.

“Wait, Mom—” I protested, but it was too late. She left me alone with the girl. I furrowed my eyebrows, feeling even more apprehensive about the situation.

“Hi! My name is Park Y/n. Nice to meet you,” the girl greeted cheerfully, her smile widening.

Huh... So that’s her name. A weird name for a weird girl. I quickly glanced at Y/n’s face, hoping not to meet her gaze, but couldn’t help but notice her cheerful smile.

“I’m Yang Jungwon. Nice to meet you too,” I muttered, my voice barely audible. I shifted uncomfortably, not knowing what to say or where to look.

Her presence made me feel uncomfortable.

“Come on! Let’s play,” she giggled and grabbed my arm to drag me outside, oblivious to my resistance.

I attempted to resist, but her grip was firm, and I found myself being dragged along against my will. She pulled me into the front yard. I tried to stop her, and in the process, I ended up grabbing her hand.

We both stopped in our tracks. She looked directly at my face, her eyes wide with curiosity. Why am I still holding hands with this weird girl? I wanted to run back inside the house, go to my room, and lock myself there.

So I did what every 8-year-old kid would do. I ran.

Y/n

As I sat on the grass of my front lawn, I noticed a car passing by, and my eyes locked onto a boy inside. Even from afar, I could tell he was very handsome. When he looked away immediately, I giggled. He seemed shy. It was cute.

The car was parked in front of the big house across the street. Oh... So this means I get to see the boy frequently since we’re neighbors, apparently. My mind raced with possibilities of friendship, and maybe more, just like in the fairy tales.

The next day, my mom asked me to bring rice cakes she made for the Yangs to welcome them. Of course, I was happy—this meant I’d get to see the boy again and maybe even talk to him. I quickly ran towards the big house, pressing the doorbell, only for me to meet a lady. I assumed that this was Mrs. Yang.

"Hello Mrs. Yang, my name is Park Y/n, and I want to give this rice cake to welcome you all for moving here." I smiled gently and handed her the rice cake.

She accepted it and returned the smile. "Oh, you sweet girl. Thank you for this. I love rice cakes. How old are you, sweetie?"

"I’m 8 years old, Mrs. Yang," I said.

She gasped. "Oh, really? My son is also 8 years old. Wait, hold on—Jungwon? Jungwon?" She looked to the side, calling and waving at someone to come. Is that the boy? Am I finally going to meet the boy up close?

Then, there he was. Wow... I was right. He is very handsome, like a prince from a Disney movie.

"So, this lovely girl gave us rice cakes because we moved in. Please get to know her. I’m sure you two will be great friends,” Mrs. Yang said, giving him a big smile before heading inside with the rice cake in her hands.

"Hi! My name is Park Y/n. Nice to meet you," I said, my smile widening even more. There he was, right in front of me.

"I’m Yang Jungwon. Nice to meet you too," he muttered. But even though he spoke quietly, I felt my ears heat up. His voice was very cute and unique.

He seemed shy, so I wanted to help him come out of his shell. "Come on! Let’s play," I said, grabbing his arm and dragging him toward their yard. He seemed to be playing hard to get.

And then our hands were holding each other. I swear he had the softest hands I’ve ever touched. I looked into his eyes—those cute, boba eyes. Is this it? Will I be getting my first kiss? My first true love kiss, just like the Disney princesses?

But then he ran. He must be really shy.

Jungwon

Grade school was a nightmare, thanks to Y/n. She always followed me around, earning me endless teasing from the other kids. They called me “her prince” because she insisted on it, making my life miserable. I couldn’t stand it. Everything about her was annoying, from her constant attention to that stupid song they would sing: “Jungwon and Y/n were sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G!”

So, I made a plan this time around. High school was my chance for a fresh start. I decided to ask Hyein, the most popular student, out on a date. I figured if Y/n saw me with someone else, she’d finally leave me alone. To my surprise, it worked. For weeks, she kept her distance.

However, I could always feel her glare whenever I was with Hyein. It sent chills down my spine. My victory was short-lived, though. My supposed best friend, Jay, betrayed me by telling Hyein I was using her to get away from Y/n. That jerk.

Hyein dumped me, and things quickly went back to the way they were before. Y/n resumed her relentless pursuit, much to my dismay.

One morning, I heard her high-pitched voice behind me: “Hi, Jungwon! ”

I felt a wave of annoyance wash over me as soon as I heard her voice. I let out a long sigh internally, preparing myself for the upcoming interaction. With my back leaned against the lockers, I looked up, greeted by that cheerful expression on her face. Her eyes looked at me with such adoration that it was almost sickening.

“Hi, Y/N,” I responded with a mutter, masking my irritation.

“See you in class? ”She tilted her head.

I nodded without a hint of enthusiasm. “Mm-hmm.” My response was brief, bordering on rude. It was evident that I wasn’t willing to humor her any longer. Hopefully, she will finally understand the message.

She didn’t.

Instead, she smiled even brighter, seemingly oblivious to my indifference. She gave a small wave and bounced away, leaving me standing there in frustration.

I sighed again, turning to head to class. It looked like high school wasn’t going to be the fresh start I had hoped for. Instead, it was just a continuation of the same old annoyance, with Y/N at the center of it all.

Y/n

Grade school felt like a dream. I was always by Jungwon’s side, watching him grow. Sure, he acted annoyed, but I thought, deep down, he enjoyed having me around. That was until high school started, and everything changed.

The first day of high school was supposed to be exciting—a new chapter for both of us. I imagined us walking to class together, sitting next to each other during lunch, and maybe even studying together in the library. But all my dreams were shattered when I saw him with Hyein.

Hyein, with her perfect hair, perfect smile, and perfect everything. She was the most popular girl in school, and she had somehow set her sights on Jungwon. I couldn’t believe it when I saw them together. My heart ached as I watched them laugh and talk like they had known each other forever.

For weeks, I kept my distance. I didn’t want to be the annoying girl who couldn’t take a hint. I saw them everywhere—in the hallways, at lunch, even after school. Each time I saw Hyein with Jungwon, my chest tightened with jealousy. Why her? Why with my Jungwon? My prince? What did she have that I didn’t? I couldn’t understand why he chose her over me.

But then, finally after a few weeks, Hyein dumped him. It would mean things could go back to normal, that Jungwon and I could go back to the way we were.

One morning, I spotted him leaning against the lockers, lost in thought. I bound over to him, eager to start the day like before. “Hi, Jungwon! ”

He looked up, his expression unreadable. “Hi, Y/n,” he responded, his tone lacking the usual warmth.

“See you in class? ”I asked, flashing him a bright smile.

He nodded, but his response lacked enthusiasm. “Mm-hmm.” There was a hint of irritation in his voice, but I brushed it off as him being tired or preoccupied with something else.

“Okay, see you then! ”I chirped, oblivious to the tension between us. I waved and skipped away, my mind already drifting to the day ahead.

Jungwon

Ever since we were little, Y/n had this strange obsession with the sycamore tree near the house. She would climb up to the highest branch that would support her weight and sit there for hours, reading a book or just watching the world go by. She called it her “thinking spot,” but to me, it was just a tree.

“Come on, Jungwon! Join me! ”She would call out every time she saw me, waving enthusiastically from her perch. I always had an excuse ready.

“Sorry, Y/n, I need to finish my homework,” I’d say, or “My mom needs help with something,” or simply, “Maybe next time.” I was convinced that the tree was just another one of her weird quirks, like her insistence on calling me her prince or her tendency to follow me around everywhere.

But the truth was, I was scared. Not of heights or falling, but of Y/n herself. Her relentless cheerfulness, her unwavering affection, and her ability to make me feel things I wasn’t ready to deal with. Being up there with her, away from everything and everyone, felt too intimate and too revealing.

One day, as I walked home from school, I saw her up in the tree again. She looked different, though—more pensive, more peaceful than usual. She spotted me and, for the first time in years, didn’t immediately call me out. Instead, she just watched me with a curious, almost wistful expression.

“Hey, Jungwon,” she finally said, her voice softer than usual. “You really should come up here sometime. The view is amazing. It’s like you can see the whole world from up here.”

I paused, the usual excuses forming in my mind, but something in her tone made me hesitate. “Maybe another time,” I said, my voice lacking its usual conviction.

She just smiled—the usual smile. “Yeah, maybe.” She turned her gaze back to the horizon, leaving me to continue home with a strange, unsettled feeling.

The next day, I found myself in my room, staring out the window at the sycamore tree. Its branches swayed gently in the breeze, casting dappled shadows on the lawn below. I sighed, feeling a pang of annoyance at the sight.

“Dad, can you believe how many leaves that tree sheds? ”I complained, turning to face him.

My father glanced up from his newspaper, raising an eyebrow. “What’s gotten into you, Jungwon? That tree has been there for years.”

“I know, but it’s blocking the view from my room,” I insisted, frustration bubbling up inside me. “And the leaves—it’s like I have to rake them every other day.”

My father sighed, setting aside his newspaper. “Alright, I’ll handle it. Maybe we can come to some sort of arrangement.”

A few days later, I was walking home from school again when I noticed a commotion. A bunch of police officers were standing around, looking up at the sycamore tree. My heart sank as I got closer and saw Y/n perched high up in the branches, her face streaked with tears.

“You need to come down, miss,” one of the officers called up to her. “The tree is unsafe and needs to be cut down.”

Y/n shook her head vehemently, clutching the branch as if her life depended on it. “No! You can’t cut it down! This is my tree! You can’t take it away! ”

I stood at the edge of the crowd, feeling a knot tighten in my stomach. Y/n’s eyes found mine, pleading. “Jungwon, help me! Please, don’t let them cut it down! ”

I only watched in silence, feeling a knot tighten in my stomach. Y/n called out for my help, but I couldn’t bring myself to move. Guilt and shame weighed heavily on my shoulders, paralyzing me.

Then, Mr. Park, Y/n’s father, emerged from their house. He walked over to the tree, looking up at his daughter with a mix of sorrow and determination. “Y/n, come down. Please, sweetheart.”

Y/n’s resolve crumbled at her father’s gentle voice. Slowly, she climbed down, tears streaming down her face. As soon as she reached the ground, Mr. Park wrapped his arms around her and guided her back to their small home. She sobbed into his shoulder, her whole body shaking with grief.

I stood there, feeling a hollow ache in my chest. Watching her cry, I realized just how much that tree meant to her and how much she needed it. And in that moment, I felt like I had let her down in the worst way possible.

Y/n

Ever since I was little, the sycamore tree has been my sanctuary. I would climb up to the highest branch that could support my weight and sit there for hours, feeling the gentle sway of the tree and looking out at the world below. Up there, I felt at peace. The worries and stresses of life seemed to melt away, leaving me with a sense of calm and clarity.

I often dreamt of sitting on that branch with Jungwon beside me, showing him the view that brought me so much comfort. I imagined us sharing that special space, watching the sunset together, feeling the breeze. I believed that if he saw what I saw, he might understand why the tree was so important to me. But Jungwon always had an excuse—homework, helping his mom, or simply “next time.” I told myself he was just shy, still waiting for the perfect moment to join me.

One day, I felt especially at peace, perched on my favorite branch, thinking about everything and nothing. The view was breathtaking, with the sky painted with hues of orange and pink as the sun set. I smiled, imagining Jungwon sitting next to me, finally sharing this moment. I felt so content and in tune with the world around me.

Days later, everything changed. I was back in my tree, savoring the tranquility, when a bunch of police officers appeared below, calling up to me.

“You need to come down, miss,” one of them said. “The tree is unsafe and needs to be cut down.”

I felt a surge of panic and devastation. “No! You can’t cut it down! This is my tree! You can’t take it away! Why are you doing this? ”I clung to the branch, tears streaming down my face.

I spotted Jungwon in the crowd, and my heart ached with desperation. “Jungwon, help me! Please, don’t let them cut it down! ”But he just stood there, staring at me with an expression I couldn’t decipher. He didn’t move and didn’t say anything. I felt a crushing sense of betrayal and helplessness.

Then I heard my father’s voice, gentle and soothing. “Y/n, come down. Please, sweetheart.” His words broke through my resolve, and I slowly climbed down, my tears blurring my vision.

As soon as I reached the ground, my father wrapped his arms around me, holding me tightly. I buried my face in his shoulder, sobbing uncontrollably. The sycamore tree had been like a close friend, a source of comfort and peace. Losing it felt like losing a part of myself.

My father guided me back to our small home, still holding me. As we entered the house, my mother joined us, wrapping her arms around me too. Their embrace provided some solace, but the pain of losing my beloved tree lingered.

I felt a hollow ache inside—a sense of loss that words couldn’t fully capture. The sycamore tree had been my refuge, my escape, and now it was gone. As I stood there, enveloped in my parents’ arms, I couldn’t help but wonder if Jungwon would ever understand what that tree had meant to me.

Jungwon

The guilt gnawed at me like a relentless beast, driving me to take action. I couldn’t bear the thought of Y/n hating me or of her feeling betrayed by my actions. So, the next day, I mustered up the courage to visit her house.

As I approached the familiar front door, my heart pounded in my chest. What if Y/n refused to see me? What if her parents turned me away?

But to my surprise, when I rang the doorbell, it was Y/n’s parents who greeted me warmly. They invited me inside; their expressions were kind but tinged with sadness.

“Jungwon, what a surprise,” Mrs. Park said, her voice gentle. “Please, come in.”

I followed them into the living room, feeling a knot form in my stomach. This was it—the moment of truth. I had to apologize to make things right with Y/n and her family.

“Mr. and Mrs. Park, I… I need to apologize,” I began, my voice trembling slightly. “I… I was the one who complained about the tree. I never meant for it to go this far. I never wanted to hurt Y/n.”

Mr. and Mrs. Park exchanged a glance, their expressions softening. “Jungwon, we appreciate your honesty,” Mr. Park said, his voice filled with understanding. “But you should know that Y/n is…”

Before he could finish his sentence, the door to the living room burst open, and there stood Y/n, her eyes wide with shock and hurt.

I froze, feeling a lump form in my throat. This was it—the moment of truth. Y/n had heard everything, and now I had to face the consequences of my actions.

“Y/n, I…” I started, but she didn’t let me finish.

Tears welled up in her eyes, and without a word, she turned and ran out of the house, leaving me standing there, feeling more helpless and ashamed than ever before.

Without thinking, I chased after her, calling out her name and pleading for her to stop and listen to me. But she didn’t slow down; she didn’t even glance back at me.

I finally caught up to her, panting and out of breath, but she refused to meet my gaze. Her eyes, usually warm and affectionate, were now cold and distant, filled with hurt and betrayal.

“Y/n, please,” I begged, reaching out to touch her arm. “I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you.”

She turned to face me, her voice trembling with emotion. “Why, Jungwon? Why did you let them take it away? You knew how much that tree meant to me.”

I stood there, speechless. I didn’t have any excuses other than the fact that I was a total asshole.

But she pulled away, her expression hardening even further. “You’ve already done enough,” she said, her voice laced with bitterness. “Just leave me alone.”

With those words ringing in my ears, I watched helplessly as she turned and walked away, disappearing into the distance. I had messed up in the worst way possible. And as I stood there, feeling the weight of my actions bearing down on me, I knew that earning back her forgiveness would be the hardest thing I had ever done. But I was determined to try, no matter what it took.

Y/n

I retreated to my room, the weight of the day’s events pressing down on me like a heavy burden. Sitting on my bed, I couldn’t shake the feeling of loss and betrayal. My sanctuary, my haven, had been torn away from me, and I didn’t know how to cope with the emptiness that filled the space inside me.

As I sat there, lost in my thoughts, I heard voices downstairs. Curiosity piqued, and I quietly made my way to the staircase, listening to the conversation unfolding below.

“I’m sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Park,” Jungwon’s voice drifted up to me. “I never meant for things to go this far. I didn’t realize…”

His words cut through me like a knife, reopening the wound of betrayal that still festered inside me. I felt tears welling up in my eyes, blurring my vision as I leaned against the railing, struggling to process the pain.

And then, I saw him. Jungwon stood in the living room, his expression filled with remorse and regret. Our eyes met, and for a brief moment, I hoped to see a flicker of understanding, of apology. But all I saw was guilt, mingled with something else—something I couldn’t quite decipher.

Without a word, I turned and ran, fleeing from the house and the pain that threatened to consume me. I heard Jungwon’s footsteps behind me, calling out my name, but I couldn’t bring myself to stop. His betrayal cut deeper than I had ever imagined, leaving me feeling raw and exposed.

When he finally caught up to me, I turned to face him, my eyes filled with hurt and anger. “Why, Jungwon? Why did you let them take it away? You knew how much that tree meant to me.”

But he had no answer, no words of comfort or explanation. He just stood there, his gaze filled with guilt and regret. And in that moment, I realized that the boy I had trusted, the boy I had admired, had betrayed me in the worst possible way.

“You’ve already done enough,” I said, my voice laced with bitterness. “Just leave me alone.”

Feeling more hurt and betrayed than ever before, I turned and walked away, leaving Jungwon behind. I couldn’t bear to be near him, and I couldn’t bear to see the remorse in his eyes. His betrayal had shattered something inside me—something I wasn’t sure could ever be repaired. And as I walked away, I vowed to protect my heart from further pain, even if it meant shutting out the boy who had once meant so much to me.

Jungwon

It had been a year since that fateful day when everything changed. A year of silence, of longing, of heartache. Y/n had been avoiding me like the plague, ignoring my calls, my texts, and my attempts to talk to her at school. It hurt more than I ever thought possible.

At first, I was angry. I was angry at myself for letting things spiral out of control and for not realizing sooner what she meant to me. But as the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, that anger melted away, leaving only a hollow ache in its wake.

I missed her more than I could put into words. I missed her smile, her laugh, and the way her eyes sparkled when she talked about something she loved. I missed the way she made me feel alive, like anything was possible as long as she was by my side.

But it wasn’t until she was gone—truly gone—that I realized just how much I loved her. It hit me like a ton of bricks, knocking the breath out of me and leaving me gasping for air. I was in love with her, utterly and completely, in a way I had never felt before.

It started from the moment I first saw her, all those years ago, when our eyes met for the briefest of moments. There was something about her—something that drew me to her like a moth to a flame. And even now, after all this time, that feeling hasn’t faded. If anything, it had only grown stronger and more intense until it consumed every part of me.

I knew I had to do something, anything, to make things right with her. I couldn’t let her slip away, not without a fight. But the thought of facing her, of seeing the pain and hurt in her eyes, filled me with a sense of dread. I hated when she cried. It hurts for me to see her pretty eyes filled with tears.

But I had to try. I had to find a way to make her see how much she meant to me and how sorry I was for everything that had happened. And maybe, just maybe, there was still a chance for us to find our way back to each other.

Summoning every ounce of courage I had, I approached Y/n in the school hallway. She was standing by her locker, her back turned to me as she fiddled with the lock.

“Y/n,” I called out tentatively, my voice barely above a whisper.

She stiffened at the sound of my voice but didn’t turn around. I took a step closer, my heart pounding in my chest.

“I... I need to talk to you,” I continued, my voice shaking slightly.

Still, she didn’t respond; her silence spoke volumes. I reached out to touch her arm, but she flinched away from my touch, as if my mere presence repulsed her.

“I know you’re angry with me, and you have every right to be,” I said, my voice filled with remorse. “But please, just hear me out.”

Finally, she turned to face me, her eyes cold and guarded. “What could you possibly have to say that I haven’t already heard? ”She snapped, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

I winced at her words, feeling the sting of her anger like a physical blow. But I refused to back down, not when I had come this far.

“I know I messed up, Y/n. I know I hurt you, and I’m so, so sorry,” I said, the words tumbling out in a rush. “But please, just give me a chance to make things right. I love you, Y/n. I always have, and I always will.”

For a moment, there was a flicker of something in her eyes—uncertainty, maybe even hope. But then, just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone, replaced by a steely resolve.

“I don’t want to hear it, Jungwon,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “You had your chance, and you blew it.”

With those words, she turned and walked away, leaving me standing there, feeling more defeated than ever.

Y/n

Every time Jungwon approached me, it felt like a knife twisting in my heart. His presence stirred up a whirlwind of emotions—anger, hurt, longing—all swirling together in a tangled mess. I wanted to ignore him, to shut him out completely, but a part of me couldn't help but listen when he spoke.

When he finally mustered the courage to say those three words—“I love you”—it caught me off guard. It was something I never expected to hear from him, something that felt foreign and unfamiliar on his lips. And yet, there was a sincerity in his voice—a vulnerability that tugged at my heartstrings.

Part of me wanted to forgive him, to let go of the hurt and anger that had consumed me for so long. But another part—the part that had been wounded and betrayed—was hesitant, guarded, afraid to let him back in, afraid to be hurt again.

As I walked away from him, his words echoing in my mind, I couldn’t shake the feeling of uncertainty that lingered within me. Was it possible to forgive and forget, to move past the pain and start anew? Or was it better to guard my heart, to protect myself from further hurt, even if it meant shutting out the one person who had once meant everything to me?

I didn’t have the answers yet.

Jungwon

It was just another school day, but my mind was consumed by thoughts of her. Y/n. She was like a magnet, drawing my gaze whenever she entered the room. Even during class, I found myself stealing glances at her, unable to tear my eyes away.

As I sat at a table during lunchtime, lost in my thoughts, Hyein appeared in front of me, her voice a distant murmur. I couldn't even make out what she was saying; my attention was completely fixated on Y/n.

And then I saw her, sitting next to some boy I didn't even know. Who was he? What was his relationship with her? Questions raced through my mind, jealousy gnawing at my insides. That is my princess, my Y/n. Why was she sitting there, laughing and looking so beautiful, but with someone else? Someone who is not me.

I didn't even realize that Hyein had been calling my name until she waved her hand in front of my face, snapping me out of my reverie. "Jungwon, are you even listening to me?" she asked, a hint of annoyance in her voice.

I blinked, tearing my gaze away from Y/n reluctantly. "Uh, sorry, what were you saying?" I mumbled, my mind still lingering on the sight of Y/n with that unknown boy.

Hyein rolled her eyes, clearly exasperated. "Never mind," she said, shaking her head. "You're impossible, Jungwon."

But I barely heard her words, my attention already drifting back to Y/n, the girl who occupied every corner of my mind and heart.

I couldn’t take it anymore. The sight of Y/n laughing with that boy, her eyes sparkling in a way I hadn’t seen in so long, made something snap inside me. I stood up abruptly, ignoring Hyein’s startled look and the noise of the cafeteria around me. My feet carried me towards Y/n with a single-minded determination.

“Jungwon, what are you doing? ”Hyein called after me, but her voice was drowned out by the pounding of my heart.

I reached Y/n’s table, my eyes locked on hers. Without thinking, I grabbed her arm, pulling her up to face me. She looked at me with a mixture of surprise and confusion, but before she could say anything, I leaned in and was about to press my lips on hers.

For a fleeting moment, the world stopped. It was everything I had imagined and everything I had wanted. This is it. But then, just as quickly, it shattered. Y/n pulled away immediately, her eyes wide with shock and hurt.

“Jungwon, no! ”She cried, her voice breaking as she wrenched herself free from my grip. She turned and ran, her movements a blur as she pushed through the crowd of students who had stopped to stare.

“Y/n, wait! ”I shouted, my voice desperate, but she didn’t stop. She ran out of the cafeteria, her steps echoing in the hallway.

I chased after her, calling her name, but she was too fast. By the time I reached the school’s entrance, she was already on her bike, pedaling away as if her life depended on it.

“Y/n, please! ”I yelled, but she didn’t look back. She rode off, disappearing down the street, leaving me standing there, breathless and alone.

Students around me were whispering, their eyes filled with shock and curiosity. I felt a wave of shame and regret wash over me, but it was too late. Y/n was gone, and I had no idea how to make things right. I fucked up again.

Y/n

I could feel Jungwon's eyes on me during class, burning a hole in the back of my head. It was uncomfortable, and I found myself shifting in my seat, trying to focus on anything but his relentless gaze. By the time lunch rolled around, I was relieved to escape the classroom.

In the cafeteria, I sat down with my tray, picking at my food. A boy I didn't know very well approached me, striking up a conversation. I didn't catch his name, but his presence was a welcome distraction. He noticed the gloom on my face and made an effort to cheer me up, telling jokes and funny stories. For the first time in months, I felt a genuine smile form on my lips. It felt good, like a brief reprieve from the constant ache in my chest.

But then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jungwon approaching. There was a determined look on his face that sent a chill down my spine. Before I could react, he was at my side, grabbing my arm and pulling me up from my seat.

His face was leaning close to mine. I realized that I was about to be kissed.

For so long, that had been my biggest dream. I had imagined it countless times, like a scene from a Disney movie where the prince kisses the princess, sealing their love with a perfect moment. But not like this. Not in the middle of the cafeteria, with everyone watching, and certainly not when I was still hurting so much.

“Jungwon, no! ”I cried, pulling away from him. I ran as fast as I could, pushing through the crowd of students who had stopped to stare. I could hear Jungwon calling my name, but I didn't stop. I burst out of the school, my legs carrying me to my bike. I jumped on it and pedaled furiously, the wind whipping past my face as tears blurred my vision.

I rode straight home, my mind a whirl of emotions. I felt the hot sting of betrayal and confusion, mingled with the remnants of a love I had once cherished. When I reached my house, I ran to my room, slamming the door behind me. I threw myself onto my bed, the sobs coming in waves as I buried my face in my pillow.

For days, I locked myself in my room, coming out only to eat. I couldn't face the world, let alone Jungwon. The pain of everything was still fresh, and I needed time to heal. One day, though, my dad knocked on my door.

“Sweetheart, can you come to the living room and look by the window? ”He asked gently.

‘’Why?-‘’

‘’Please sweet girl?’’ he pleased softly from the door.

Reluctantly, I got up and walked to the living room, pulling back the window blinds. My heart skipped a beat when I saw Jungwon outside, digging a hole in the lawn. Confusion washed over me. What was he doing?

But then, I saw it. I recognized it instantly from its leaves and the shape of its trunk. He is planting a sycamore tree. Without thinking, I walked outside, my heart pounding.

Jungwon

As I stood there looking at her, I couldn’t help but think back to the moment I first saw Y/n. We were just kids then, but even at that young age, something about her caught my attention. I remember sitting in the car and making eye contact with her. My heart ached at how beautiful she was and still is. She was and always would be my Y/n, my princess.

—————

Y/n approached Jungwon, her eyes filled with curiosity and a glimmer of hope. “Do you need some help? ”She asked softly.

He nodded, and they both kneeled down to plant the tree. As she patted the soil around the roots, she felt his hand on top of hers. She looked up and met his gaze—those cute boba eyes she loved so much.

For a moment, they just stared at each other, the world around them fading away. Jungwon broke the silence first, his voice filled with emotion. “Y/n, I’m so sorry for everything. I want to make up for everything that I did, starting with the tree. I love you, my princess. I always have.”

A smile spread across her face, tears welling up in her eyes. “I love you too, my prince.”

He took a deep breath, hope flickering in his eyes. “Can I kiss you? ”

She nodded, and they both leaned in, their lips meeting in a tender, heartfelt kiss.

It was everything she had ever dreamed of—the perfect moment that made all the pain and waiting worth it.

As they pulled away from the kiss, a gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the newly planted sycamore tree, as if the tree itself were celebrating their reunion. They both stood up, and Jungwon gently took Y/n's hand in his, leading her to the bench in her front yard. They sat down, still holding hands, their fingers interlaced.

"Remember when we were kids, and you always talked about sitting together in the tree?" Jungwon asked, his voice soft and full of nostalgia.

Y/n nodded, her eyes sparkling with memories. "I used to dream about sharing that view with you."

He squeezed her hand with a determined look in his eyes. "I want to create new memories with you, Y/n. Memories that make up for all the time we've lost. Can we start over together?"

She looked at him, feeling the sincerity in his words and seeing the love in his eyes. She then nodded as she smiled softly. "Let's start over."

They spent the rest of the afternoon together, talking and laughing; their hearts were lit with the promise of a new beginning. As the sun began to set, they stood up and admired the sycamore tree, its young leaves glowing in the golden light.

"This tree will grow strong and tall, just like our love," Jungwon said, wrapping his arm around Y/n's shoulders.

She leaned into him, feeling a sense of peace and happiness she hadn't felt in a long time. "And it will always remind us of today, the day we found our way back to each other."

As they stood there, watching the sun dip below the horizon, they knew that their future was bright, filled with love, hope, and countless new memories waiting to be made.

Y/n looked up at Jungwon, her heart swelling with affection. "Thank you for bringing the tree back. It means more than you know."

Jungwon smiled, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "I promise to never take you or anything you love for granted again. You are my everything, Y/n."

With the promise of a new beginning, they embraced it, feeling the bond between them strengthen with each passing moment. The sycamore tree stood as a symbol of their renewed love and commitment, growing stronger and more beautiful with time, just like their relationship.

208 notes · View notes

03jyh23 · 23 hours

Text

— i love every inch of you || jeong yunho

established relationship, idol-yunho x reader

genre: fluff, suggestive

trigger warnings: none(?) but for the love of god do not interact if you're a minor

words: 1.9 k

reminder: what you’re about to read is purely fiction, so let’s keep it separate from reality.

!!!minors do not interact!!!

— hi there! so today i have nothing to say i just love yunho and that's it can somebody give him to me, please

love, monika. ♡

if you enjoyed this post, i’d be so grateful for a little love – a like, reblog or comment would truly make my day!

Yunho returned from the bathroom; a towel casually draped around his waist. You were already prepared for bed, sitting comfortably on the plush bedspread, a pillow behind your back. Your attention was initially glued to your phone's screen, but within a minute of your boyfriend entering the room, your gaze shifted. Your eyes took in the sight before you, appreciating the view. You watched the droplets of water cascading down from his dark, wet hair, trailing down his long, elegant neck, and further down to his impressively toned abs, glistening under the room's soft lighting.

"Baby, you're staring," Yunho remarked with a playful chuckle in his voice.

Caught in the act, you only smirked, unapologetically continuing your admiration. "Can you blame me?" you retorted; your voice filled with playfulness.

"No, not at all," Yunho replied, his voice laced with laughter. He gracefully moved towards you, the soft glow of the room reflecting off his damp skin, giving him an almost ethereal glow.

"You should be glad I'm not drooling over you," you teased, your words laced with playful sarcasm.

Yunho looked at you with playful disappointment, feigning offense. "Seriously? Drooling?"

You giggled, gently tugging at the edge of his loosely tied towel. "What can I say? You're quite a sight."

Shaking his head in amusement, he leaned down to press a kiss on your temple. "Well, I'll take that as a compliment, even if it makes me sound like a piece of meat."

"Not just any piece of meat," you teased, wrapping your arms around his neck to draw him closer. "A very delicious, prime cut," you whispered against his lips with a wide smile.

Yunho laughed, "I guess I should be flattered?"

"Definitely," you agreed, "And very grateful." His playful demeanor gave way to a tender expression, a gentle smile gracing his lips. He once again pressed a soft kiss, this time on your forehead, the warmth of his breath mingling with the coolness of his damp skin.

"Scoot over," he murmured, his voice low and intimate. You shifted to the side, making room for him. Yunho then sat down beside you, getting comfortable as he leaned into the headboard.

"How is it even possible for someone to be as hot as you are?" you asked, half-joking, half-serious.

Yunho leaned in closer, the corners of his mouth curving into a teasing smirk. "You flatter me too much, baby," he said, his voice a soft whisper against your ear. But you saw the faint blush creeping up his neck, and you knew your words affected him, despite his nonchalant exterior. Your fingers reached out, tracing the contours of his face as if it were the first time you saw him. His eyes closed at your touch, a content sigh escaping his lips.

''I’ve watched the interview that was aired today," you began, your tone serious and a hint of disapproval lacing your words, "and to be honest, I didn’t like it one bit."

Yunho, taken aback by your sudden comment, furrowed his brows in confusion and a mild hint of concern. "What exactly do you mean by that?" he questioned; his voice filled with genuine curiosity.

You took a moment to gather your thoughts before responding, "Well, during the interview, you mentioned that you wish you were smaller, and I found it quite… unsettling." As you spoke, you slowly moved to sit on Yunho’s lap, placing each of your knees on either side of him. In response, he put his hands on your lower back, sending shivers down your spine. Then, you leaned in to plant a soft, comforting kiss on his neck, he shivered under your kiss, amused by your brave actions. "I love every inch of you, Jeong Yunho" you declared, your eyes filled with admiration and affection. As you spoke, you gently placed featherlight kisses along his jaw, trailing downwards to his neck and collarbones, each kiss a silent testament to your love for him. Yunho tilted his head back, allowing you more access to his neck. His eyes closed, the corners of his mouth curling upward into a content smile. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer until there was no more space between your bodies. You admired the way his body reacted to your touch, his skin breaking out in goosebumps and his breath becoming slightly shallower. "I love that you're bigger than me," you murmured, your words soft against his skin. "I love the feeling of being enveloped by you, protected by you. That wouldn't be possible if you were smaller." Your fingers traced the dips and curves of his abs, eliciting a soft groan from him. Your compliments seemed to ease any insecurities he held, his body relaxing under your touch. "I love how your arms wrap around me, making me feel safe and cherished," you continued, your fingers trailing higher to his broad shoulders, "I love how your body towers over mine, it makes me feel protected." Your words were like a soothing balm, erasing any self-doubts he might have had.

He let out a soft sigh, his arms pulling you closer. His eyes met yours, and you saw a mix of relief and tenderness in them. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice a whisper against your ear. Yunho gently lifted your chin, ensuring your eyes met his. A blush was creeping onto his cheeks as he pulled you in for a kiss. His hand rested on your waist, keeping your body close to his. The kiss was soft yet passionate. You could feel the warmth of his body against yours, the rhythm of his heartbeat echoing your own. His fingers traced gentle circles on your waist, eliciting a soft sigh from you. The kiss deepened, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him even closer if that was even possible. His hands moved from your waist to your back, holding you securely against him. Eventually, you both pulled away for air, your foreheads resting against each other. Yunho's eyes were filled with affection as he looked at you, a soft smile playing on his lips. "I love you," he whispered, his voice filled with sincerity.

You couldn't help but smile at his words, your heart swelling with love for this man. "I love you too, Yunho," you replied, your voice just above a whisper. You leaned in to capture his lips once more. You smiled at him as you pulled away; your heart filled with nothing but love. "Never forget," you said, your voice serious, "You're perfect just the way you are." Your hand cupped his cheek, thumb gently stroking his skin. He leaned into your touch, his eyes closing at the comforting sensation. You took this opportunity to capture his lips yet again in a passionate kiss, pouring all your emotions into it. As you pulled away, you whispered, "Never wish to change anything about you." With your words, you wanted to reassure him that every part of him was loved, every flaw, every quirk, every trait that made him the man you loved.

Yunho opened his eyes, looking at you with newfound admiration and love. "Thank you," he said, his voice filled with sincerity.

"I don't want even a small inch of you to disappear," you pouted, as Yunho tenderly tucked your hair behind your ear, his eyes admiring your face. Feeling playful, you flashed him a wide smile, your fingers teasingly reaching for the hem of his towel. Yunho chuckled, catching your hand before you could go any further. "And I definitely don’t want to see your 'friend' getting smaller," you teased, your tone flirtatious.

Yunho burst into laughter at your comment, his eyes twinkling with amusement, his cheeks tinted with a faint blush at your playful remark. "Oh, is that so?" he replied, his voice teasing. "Well, lucky for you, he's more than happy to make an appearance anytime you want."

You grinned mischievously, enjoying the playful banter between the two of you. "Is that a promise?" you asked, raising an eyebrow suggestively while gently moving your hips against his crotch.

"Careful now," Yunho teased, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Someone might get the wrong idea." You laughed, leaning in to press a quick kiss to his lips.

"Oh, I think that someone is getting the right idea," you shot back, a mischievous glint in your eyes. You pressed yourself against Yunho's crotch once more, your moves bolder this time, confidence radiating in every movement. His hands tightened on your hips, a groan escaping his lips at the sensation. The playful atmosphere had shifted into something more heated, and you couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement. You were fully aware of the effect you were having on him, his eyes darkening with desire. Steadying yourself, you grabbed hold of one of Yunho's broad shoulders, your hips pressing into him with more force, as if you were on a mission. His body responded in kind, his hands guiding your movements, a low growl escaping his lips. The room filled with the intoxicating tension between you two, the playful banter having long been replaced with a heated exchange of smoldering looks and soft gasps.

"You're driving me crazy," Yunho murmured, his voice husky as he tried to control his breathing.

You chuckled, a wicked glint in your eyes. "That's the plan." His hands moved to your waist, guiding you with a firm yet gentle grip. The rhythm of your movements became more synchronized, the shared heat between you two increasing with every passing moment. Yunho's eyes were glued to you, admiration and desire evident in his gaze. Your fingers tangled in his damp hair, tugging slightly to elicit a groan from him. Feeling Yunho's evident arousal against you, you bit your lip, your eyes meeting his. A playful smirk appeared on your lips as you teased, "Well, hello, sir."

Yunho flushed at your comment, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. "Well, he's certainly happy to see you," he retorted, a playful glint in his eyes. With a swift motion, Yunho suddenly flipped you over, his strong hands pinning your wrists above your head. The surprised gasp that escaped your lips was quickly swallowed by his, as he dipped down to claim your mouth in a passionate, fiery kiss. His lips moved against yours with a fervor that left you breathless, his tongue exploring the depths of your mouth with a dominance that was uniquely Yunho. His damp hair brushed against your forehead as he loomed over you, his eyes filled with an unspoken promise. The desire in his gaze was apparent, making your heart flutter in anticipation. You could feel his erection pressing against your thigh, and a wave of desire coursed through your body in response. Despite having your wrists pinned, you managed to wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer to you. Yunho groaned at the contact, his hips instinctively grinding against yours, causing you to gasp at the sensation. "Remember you asked for it," he whispered softly into your lips, his warm breath mixing with yours, making you shiver with anticipation. His voice, deep and husky, sent a thrilling chill down your spine, igniting a burning desire within you. His hands, strong yet gentle, traced the contours of your body, making you squirm under his touch. Every nerve in your body tingled with anticipation, and you knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that the night was only just beginning.

#ateez x reader #ateez au #ateez x y/n #ateez fanfic #yunho x you #yunho x y/n #yunho x reader #yunho fluff #ateez fluff #yunho scenarios #yunho smut

156 notes · View notes

hornychristianprincess · 3 days

Text

wasted (leehan x fem reader) pt 2

paring: leehan x fem reader genre: smut, fluff, angst, fuckboy!leehan word count: 8k summary: tumbling into bed with Leehan isn’t so uncomplicated when you’re forced to set parameters around your relationship. warnings: explicit sex scenes, oral (female receiving), more butt action but nothing crazy read the fic on AO3 should you please by clicking HERE.

“So. You and Leehan?” questions Jaehyun as you now find yourselves alone, walking back to campus with your borrowed textbook now in tow.

You shrug, feeling like there’s nothing to tell as you process the now mere second interaction with the aforementioned stranger. “It’s nothing. We just hooked up at a party once.”

When you went to that house party a few weeks ago with your roomate, looking for an excuse to get drunk, sex was not on your mind at all. Still, it happened, and it was satisfying, but you truthfully spared no additional thought to that night in the aftermath, outside of a few occasional ripples up your body anytime a particular flashback popped into your mind.

“Are you, like, into him?” asked Jaehyun, who you were sure was asking so that he could know if there was any expectation on your end for him to play matchmaker. Or, maybe he wanted to warn you first, tell you about all of the strange things Leehan does as a roommate that would make your skin crawl. Either way, you weren’t interested, not even sure how deep your attraction to Leehan went or even if you’d see him again before you could think about any further action.

“He’s a little strange,” you reply, “But I’m attracted to him.” Not to mention how good of a fuck he was, you think to yourself, withholding such candor from Jaehyun who you’re sure has heard enough.

“Well,” said Jaehyun, opening the door for you as you reached the building of your morning class, “If you want to see him again, me, him, and a couple of our neighbors are driving out to the countryside to see the lunar eclipse this weekend. It’s supposed to be super pretty out there. Plus, I know you wanted me to tell you if me and friends were ever going out, and well, this is about as exciting as it gets.”

You contemplate the invitation with earnest, thinking through your homework load and wondering whether or not you can afford a weekend spent off-campus.

In your pursuit to try and make friends as you settled into this new campus community, you’ve been hopefully awaiting Jaehyun to inform you of any activities he and his friends were partaking in.

Leehan’s presence wouldn’t necessarily be a bonus, but it also wouldn’t be a detractor either. Maybe Leehan takes the one in one-night stand seriously. Maybe, he won’t be interested in interacting with you at all.

Or maybe, you’d have the chance to get to know the person who thus far has brought an unprecedented amount of excitement to your life.

“What time are you leaving?” you ask Jaehyun eagerly.

You meet Jaehyun and his friends outside in the parking lot of their apartment complex on a breezy, Saturday morning.

In the swarm of new people you meet, a mixture of Jaehyun’s neighbors and classmates, you don’t immediately see Leehan, and for a second, you wonder if maybe he decided not to come.

It shouldn’t matter to you, really, and yet you can feel disappointment swelling hot inside you at the observation of his absence.

That is, until a few moments later, when he comes out from the front seat of a nearby parked car. Judging by the various bags he leaves on the dashboard, you can guess that he’s probably coming back from a store run.

He joins the eight or so of you huddled outside and says nothing to directly acknowledge you, although you suppose he shouldn’t have to. At this point, you’re still nothing more to each other than strangers who are perhaps – at least on your end – hoping to get to know each other a little better.

You notice how handsome he looks as his long hair is tucked neatly behind his ears and the glasses you’ve seen him wear before are hung neatly into the collar of his white shirt.

“Alright, so me and Leehan are driving,” says Jaehyun, standing in the middle of the circle you’ve all naturally formed. You watch him scrunch his eyebrows as he makes a quick count of how many of you are there.“There’s space for four in mine, and three in his. So we can just split up that way.”

Your first instinct is to ride with Jaehyun, the only person who you truly know and are comfortable with. But four of his friends are closer and quicker than you are, and not wanting to make an issue, you can only watch as they pile into his car before you can say or do anything.

“Well aren’t I just lucky?”

You turn around to face a smirking Leehan, whose deep and sultry voice was recognizable even before you saw him. You don’t know what to say so you just laugh, getting into his car and quickly moving past the fact that both his voice and closeness just now made your entire body buzz with excitment.

Bad with names, you could barely recall any of the friends who Jaehyun introduced you to, but luckily the two people in the car with you and Leehan are those whose names you happened to remember. In the front seat with Leehan was Riwoo, whose calm voice and demeanor immediately gave you the impression of someone you’d get along well with, and in the back with you was Sungho, who you remembered because of his resonant laughter.

“So, Y/N,” says Leehan, only seconds after you’ve pulled out of the parking lot. “Tell us about yourself.”

You can’t tell by his tone whether he’s joking or being serious, nor can you catch his expression through the rearview mirror. So, you simply shrug. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you’re the new person here. We want to know everything you have to share,” he replies, and if it weren’t for the encouraging hums of agreement from Riwoo and Sungho, you’re sure you’d brush him off and say nothing at all.

‘Well, I’m a transfer student,” you explain, delving into the reasons behind your decision. It was mostly because you wanted a different experience, something intimate and small, unlike your previous school. “I used to go to a school in Tae-an.”

“Tae-an? You guys get a lot of fish down there, don’t you?” perks up an excited Leehan, and when you raise an eyebrow in confusion at the sudden switch in topic, Riwoo is quick to explain.

“Don’t mind him. He’s obsessed with fish. It’s half the reason why he wanted to come out to the countryside with us,” he says, and Sungho laughs along as if this is something they make fun of him for all the time. You notice how Leehan doesn’t seem to take this personal at all, in fact looking almost prideful at his friends’ observations of his interest.

You decide that it’s something you like about him, how he has such a unique way of thinking and behaving and doesn’t seem to care when others point it out.

“Anways,” continues Riwoo. “How are you liking it here so far, Y/N?”

You take a second to consider the question. In the month or so since you’ve started class, spending this time today with Jaehyun and his friends is truly the most enmeshed you’ve felt on this new campus.

“It’s nice. I’m grateful to Jaehyun for showing me around. The people I’ve met so far are really cool.”

“Are they?” quips Leehan, meeting your gaze in the rearview mirror. Everything about the way he looks at you is flirtatious and suggestive, even as you’re in a car with other people. “Well, consider yourself welcomed.”

You spend the rest of the car ride answering questions about yourself, most of which are directed by Leehan. And as hard as it is to read Leehan and his motivations behind such interest, it feels nice to be the subject of attention. To hear his breezy laugh when you say something sarcastic or watch his face scrunch in concentration as he listens to you tell a long story.

It’s about two hours into the drive that the four of you make a stop in the parking lot of a grocery store. Riwoo, Sungho, and Leehan use the time to get out and stretch their legs, while you go inside to buy snacks.

When you return from inside the store, you’re surprised to see everyone but Leehan still outside of the car. Before you can ask what’s going on, Sungho opens his mouth in explanation.

“So, apparently Leehan found a bungee jumping place on his phone nearby,” he informs you passively, “and says we’re taking a detour to go to it.”

The last words you were expecting to come out of Sungho’s mouth, you almost bust out laughing, but can tell by both Sungho and Riwoo’s matching expressions of non-plussed sincerity that these are the sort of hijinks Leehan gets up to all the time.

So when the three of you pile into the car and Leehan excitedly exclaims, “Let’s go bungee jumping!” you can only sigh and lean your head against the window tiredly.

Just before you arrive at the bungee jumping facility, Riwoo and Sungho ask to get dropped off at a nearby restaurant, disinterested in being a voyeur to Leehan’s irregularity. Sharing the sentiment, you’re just about to follow them out of the car when Leehan twists his body around to face you. “You’re doing it with me, right?”

All you can do is laugh, unable to take him or his spontaneous thrill-seeking serious.“You’re fucking crazy.”

“Said the detractors of every genius ever,” he retorts, smiling as he watches you react in disbelief to the pure sincerity behind his words. “C’mon,” he urges, laying a hand on your knee. “Don’t make me do this alone.”

The touch of Leehan’s fingers against your knee brings warmth even through the fabric of your leggings. You don’t understand how you got to the point where someone you barely know could convince you to do such an extreme activity like bungee jumping with them, and yet, you find yourself considering it as you melt under Leehan’s touch and curious personality.

“I’ll go up with you, but that’s it,” you relent, fighting back a smirk as Leehan jumps up in his seat at that.

“Atta girl,” he replies, making your stomach swoop, and then you’re back in motion as he pulls the car out of the restaurant parking lot.

You arrive at the facility just a few moments later, finding it relatively empty and breezing through the process of signing waivers and other paperwork. That just leaves the two of you to walk side by side as you get on the elevator to the jumping platform, Leehan already strapped up and ready to go while you just linger for moral support.

Leehan runs a hand through his hair, causing the strands of his brown locks to cascade across his forehead. “I’m so excited. I’ve wanted to do this for forever,” he remark excitedly. The elevator rises into the air, making your stomach drop as you peer through the glass window and notice how high you are.

“This is higher than I thought it would be…:

“Don’t be scared. I’m here, aren’t I?” Leehan replies, a joking tilt to his voice as he smirks at your puzzled reaction.

Amused at the presumptuous notion that his presence would bring any kind of comfort to you, you raise a curious eyebrow, asking in derisive sarcasm, “Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

“It means I won’t let anything happen to you,” he declares sincerely, though like always you can’t tell if he’s being serious or not. Because while his words seem purely absurd, he says them with such shocking clarity that it’s not hard to feel butterflies fluttering in your stomach. Plus, he does spontaneous things like this – taking a detour from a road trip to go bungee jumping – with such confidence that it gives credence to the idea that he’s a person who is serious in all of his crazy ideas.

“You trust me, don’t you?”

It seems crazy to admit to yourself that, for reasons you can‘t understand, you actually feel like you do trust him. You also hate the way that his smile seems to unlock all types of hidden depths of desire deep within you, a feeling beyond just nerves overtaking you until you have to look away to keep yourself from smirking.

“Stop talking nonsense. I think the adrenaline is making you delirious,” is what you mumble when you don’t know what else to say, and the sound of Leehan’s laughter in the aftermath let’s you know you're not convincing anyone by trying to appear unaffected by his flirting.

With a shaky thump, the elevator reaches the jumping platform. You watch from a slight distance as an attendant attaches a series of ropes and hooks to Leehan’s harnessed back. He peers playfully over the railed edge of the platform, where at least 100 meters of air meet him. And although his expression remains passive, he nervously says, “Wow, this actually is really high. I just might die today.”

Still leaning over the edge in a way that causes you anxiety, he continues after a wry laugh that makes it difficult to tell if he’s joking or not. “I’m too young to die. I haven’t accomplished all of my goals. I haven’t even graduated college. I haven’t been in love.”

Whether he’s being serious or not, you still can’t help the “Don’t say that,” that leaves your mouth automatically at his words. And whether it’s because he’s pleased to hear you expressing concern on his behalf or simply another one of his strange moments of variablity, he meets your gaze and goes from deadpan to smiling.

“If I do die, I’d die happy knowing your pretty face is the last thing I see,” he remarks passionately, and the corny-ness of the sentiment makes you roll your eyes disbelievingly. Leehan’s grin never wavers. “I’m gonna convince you to jump too, you know.”

You should probably be more resistant to the idea, and yet there’s a part of you that feels more assured seeing Leehan do it all so fearlessly. “Now that I’m up here…” you hear yourself say, taking a second look over the edge of the rail and finding yourself surprising calm at the image. “I just might.”

“Wait for me. I want to be there when you jump. I’m serious,” he says. When you meet his gaze, you almost laugh at loud at how sincerely serious he looks, how he goes from playful to passive to passionate so easily.

The attendant finishes all of the safety precautions, giving Leehan the go-ahead to jump whenever he’s ready. But he remains where he’s standing, gaze never leaving yours as he once more says, “Tell me you’ll wait for me. If I’m gonna die right now, I need to hear you say it.”

It would be so easy to dismiss his passion as insincere, something to not take seriously, and yet you don’t. You acknowledge then that there’s no one quite like Leehan, no one who has managed to make you feel the things that he’s done in such a short amount of time.

“I’ll wait for you.”

Leehan smiles, and it really does seem like he needed to hear that, because he’s immediately bracing himself to stand on the very edge of the jumping platform, no rail to hold him back, just his own will. “Thank you, Y/N. We good to go?” he asks to the attendant, and when he’s given the thumbs up, he takes one last look over his shoulder to meet your gaze. “See you on the flipside, Y/N.”

It’s with those parting words that he leans headfirst into the abyss, bundles of rope cascading after him as he takes the plunge into the open air.

He doesn’t let out a scream or a squeak, just jumps effortlessly, as if he isn’t scared of anything.

His fearlessness is something that you’re simultaneously intimidated by and in awe of.

The attendant turns to you and asks if you’d like to go next. You’re replying yes, and in the next second you’re being strapped up in a harness. Leehan, who you were sure would be getting heralded into a boat and brought back to land by now, yells something that makes a lot of non-fear related butterflies flutter in your stomach.

“Wait for me, Y/N!!!”

Whatever it is that’s drawing you to Leehan so magnetically has you bungee jumping with him not just once, but five times. And with the permission of the attendant, you even jump a few times together at once, legs wrapped around his waist in a tight embrace and head buried in his neck to keep yourself from screaming in his ear.

Once the adrenaline high has run it’s course and you’re back on the road, Sungho and Riwoo in tow, you find yourself worn out to the max. You fall asleep against the car window, lulled to sleep by the faint sounds of tire against pavement.

You don’t know what time it is when you’re woken up by the sound of lowly-spoken voices, only that it’s dark outside. Someone must have put a blanket over you, because you can only see through the little piece of light not obscured by the soft fabric over half your face. Thinking you might still be able to fall back asleep, you remain still, only to hear something from Riwoo that catches your attention.

“Hey, what happened to that girl you were with? What was her name? Matty?”

You hear a soft chuckle that you immediately attribute to Leehan, an assumption that’s confirmed by the next words you hear out of his recognizably low, deep voice. “Nah, I think you’re talking about Natty.

“Me and her were never together. We were just hanging out for a couple of weeks.”

“Just hanging out, huh?” repeats Riwoo, disbelief and disapproval all mixed together in his softly-spoken voice. “You’ll never settle down, will you, Leehan?”

Wondering why Sungho hasn’t chimed in, you open one eye just slightly to confirm that he’s snoring softly in the seat next to yours. And in the moment where your eyes are slightly squinted open, you swear you see Leehan’s head jut over his shoulder, almost if he was trying to confirm if you were still sleeping or not.

You must’ve closed your eyes at just the right time, because his next words are, “Why when I can fuck anyone I want?”

In the same sense of poorly fitting clothes, words of these sort just don’t sound right coming out of Leehan’s mouth, but you remain silent and still under the guise of being asleep. You’re not sure how to feel in reaction to what you’ve overheard — on one hand, the camaraderie you’ve developed with Leehan so far doesn’t negate the fact that the two of you have no sort of formal relationship. You don’t even think you could call him a friend, not with the little time you’ve spent together.

And yet, you still feel a hot mix of disappointment swirling inside of you just the same at the news of him not being the person you thought he was. But even just making that internal acknowledgment makes you feel stupid and childish – when did he ever promise or do anything to imply something of substance?

“Are we here?” asks Riwoo, breaking you out of thoughts that grow more complicated with each second you have to stew on them.

“Yeah, wake everyone up,” says Leehan, and then, you have to pretend like you weren’t alert listening to their conversation as Riwoo softly shakes you awake.

Jaehyun and his group, who made it to the hotel first, are already waiting outside as you, Leehan, Sungho and Riwoo pile out of the car. After the eclipse is over, you’ll stay here overnight and drive back to campus the next morning.

Jaehyun was in charge of booking the rooms and thus goes inside by himself to handle the check-in process. The rest of you wait outside, where the nighttime chill has you wishing you would’ve brought a jacket. You wrap your arms around your body in an effort to warm yourself.

You’re caught off guard for a moment when a wool cardigan is placed onto your shoulders from behind. Turning around to find Leehan behind you, you let out a sigh. “You scared me,” you grumble.

“Boo,” he halfheartedly exclaims before wrapping the jacket around your body tightly. It leaves him in just a t-shirt. “Here. You look cold.”

You know you should take the gesture for what it is – a simple, kind thing to do for someone you see shivering in the cold – but after what you heard earlier you find yourself searching his dark eyes, wishing you could read him now more than ever.

“Thank you,” you reply softly, hearing your voice come out lower than intended and hoping he doesn’t notice as he walks away aimlessly.

It’s at that moment that Jaehyun comes out from the hotel lobby, holding a packet of keys in his hands and announcing, “Hey. They accidentally gave us an extra suite, and since they’re not busy, we get to keep it.”

There’s a chorus of cheers and commentary among the nine of you that’s interrupted by you asking, “How are we deciding room assignments?”

“Rock, paper, scissors is what we usually do,” answers Sungho sensibly from beside you, and with that, everyone gathers in a circle for the game. Not invested in where you’ll sleep, you play rock each round, and somehow end up winning against Riwoo for the solo room.

“It’s a shame,” you remark, staring down at your winning fist a little regretfully. “Just as I was beginning to get to know you guys, and I get heralded off into the room by myself”

“It’s okay, Y/N. Thanks to Leehan, we probably already know your entire life story,” says Riwoo kindly in consolation.

“True,” you concede. Your gaze flits over to Leehan, looking to see if he had any reaction, and you find him staring blank-faced into the sky. You notice how he often has these dreamy moments where he seems to be in his own world, unchallenged by what’s going on around him. It’s hard to relate to someone so strange, and yet the fact that he marches to the beat of his own drum is one of the things you find most attractive about him. Maybe that’s why you’re having such a hard time reconciling with what you heard in the car, unable to imagine a person like him doing the things he spoke of.

“Well, the eclipse doesn’t start until midnight,” announces Jaehyun, looking down at his watch. “So I guess we can chill in our rooms and meet back outside when it’s time.”

Jaehyun gives everyone their room key, and from there you head inside and find your suite on the first floor. The first thing you do when inside is take a nice long, hot shower. After a full day spent sitting and sleeping in the confines of a car, the hot water is just what you need to feel energized again. You change into something comfortable and are drying your hair when suddenly, you hear a knock at your door.

“Who is it?” you shout as you make your way to the peephole, thinking you’ll see housekeeping with an extra towel or a neighbor complaining about you using up all the hot water. Instead, you’re faced with the distorted image of a dawdling Leehan as he leans against your door.

“Who do you think it is?” you hear him say in his deep, sinewy voice, and through the peephole you can just make out the smirk on his face – he hasn’t even done anything yet, and yet you already feel butterflies erupting in your stomach as you’re opening the door to face him.

Leaning against your doorframe in the t-shirt and sweatpants you’ve seen him in all day today, you watch Leehan look almost guilty, like he’s doing something he isn’t supposed to by coming to your room like this.

“Are you playing Mr. Anonymous again tonight?”

Leehan, as if considering the question you intended to be sarcastic seriously, furrows his eyebrows in concentration. “I don’t think so. Are you gonna let me in?”

You take a few seconds to consider the request, although mostly for show. Truthfully, it’s a little embarrassing how your body is already buzzing in reaction to his presence, how you become girlish and flattered inside at the idea of him seeking out your company like this.

Opening the door to let him inside, you watch as he immediately goes to sit on the edge of your bed. You close the door shut behind you and go to stand over him, though several feet away. “Why are you here?” you ask softly. Not at all opposed to his company, you’d stil like to hear what brought him here.

“Why do you think I’m here?” he questions back with a sheepish grin.

You roll your eyes at what is clearly him playing coy. Why make the move in coming over here if he wasn’t going to be direct? To waste your time by not being clear with what he wants? “You ask a lot of questions in response to other questions,” you point out with a frown.

“Sorry. It’s the philosophy major in me,” he explains in clusmy apology, leaning back aginst his palms and letting his eyes roam you. “You look pretty with your hair wet.”

Done trying to force explanations out of him, you simply remain silent and watch him watch you, and for someone whose usually so hard to read, you love how easy it is to tell when he’s checking you out. Now that you think of it, since you’ve known him, it’s been moments like these – when he’s on top of you or eating you out from the back – when you’ve truly felt like you understood and related to Leehan.

You take a few steps forward so that you’re standing just in front of him, and the way his gaze never leaves your body the entire time causes your insides to jump. “Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask, when it clearly seems like he won’t be the one to break this silent tension.

“Because I want to fuck you,” he replies assertivley, being as direct as it gets, and his unfiltered candor causes the both of you to giggle at once. He follows up by asking shyly, “Too honest?”

“You’re crazy,” is all you say in responsw, moving forward even more so that you’re directly slotted between his legs. He raises a hand up to rub against the back of your thigh, and the fact that his hand is big enough to reach across the entire width of your leg makes you shiver.

“If you’re not in the mood, tell me, and I’ll leave,” he says, avoiding your gaze when he does. Perhaps he’s assuming that your lack of immediate action means you’re not interested when really, you just find it fun to not make it easy for him. He must be so cocky to think that just by expressing his desire to fuck you you would immediatly fold. Humbling him, even in the smallest ways, lets you feel like you’re in control of this dynamic when honestly – both of you know that by the end of this interaction, no matter how long you drag it out, he’ll have gotten what he wanted.

“So if I say no to you, it means I’m not in the mood, and not just that I’m not into Leehan?”

Leehan throws his head back in laughter at this. Loving the sound, you let out a giggle as well. “I think you’re a lot of things, Y/N, but you don’t give liar. I'm at least 80% sure that you’re into me,” he declares.

And that’s what’s so funny about Leehan – he can go from annoyingly confident to unsure within seconds. “Oh yeah? And what’s the other 20%?” you question in amusement.

Leehan shrugs, bringing his broad shoulders to your eager attention. “A man can never be too confident, can he?” he quips, poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue.

It’s at that moment that you decide you’re tired of making him wait – taking pleasure in the way his pupils grow wide in attention, you move to straddle his waist, using the shoulders you were just fawning over to support yourself. “Well, you’re bad at math Leehan – what’s your last name?”

“Kim.”

“You’re bad at math, Kim Leehan,” you mumble, leaning down to kiss his plush lips.

Whatever banter or power dynamics that were present before are forgotten the moment his lips are on yours. He’s just so good at kissing, always making your stomach flutter with the way he deepens the kiss by pulling you in by your hair and how he quickly progresses to tongue. Beforew you know it, you’re flipped onto your back, arching your back as his hands wander your body.

“I have to tell you, Y/N,” he opens his mouth to suddenly say, pulling away from your lips as he goes to rid you of your shorts. “I don’t usually do two time hookups. After the first time, I thought I’d never you see again.”

Your chest rises and falls with the weight of several shaky breaths, desire racing through you as Leehan just plays with the little bow on your underwear, looking up at you as he awaits your response. “And is that what you wanted?” you ask. “To never see me again?”

“Not particularly. Still, that’s usually how these things go,” answers Leehan in an almost unfeeling way, something you don’t dwell on as the yanking of your underwear down your legs brings your attention to more important matters. ”But then you show up here, all pretty and badly-behaved, I couldn’t wait to get you alone.”

You’re not even given a chance to laugh at the words he uses to describe you before he lets a single, thick finger slip into your wetness, the stimulation of which has you already moaning, arching your back. He pushes it in and out of you in slow, teasing movements that are made lewd by the sound of your wetness gushing in and out with his finger. When he goes knuckle deep, curling the digit inside of you, you throw your head back, asking for more.

“I wanna make you come, Y/N. I wanna make you come so bad.”

“So do it,” you mumble in response, once again struck by the intensity of him giving you pleasure like this while keeping his eyes locked on your face. Despite your pleading and his own admitted eagerness to please you, he maintains a steadily slow pace as he continues to push his finger in and out of you.

“I have to let you know something first,” he says, and although you hear him take on a more serious tone, you don’t pay any mind to it, too focused on your building pleasure to analyze another one of his characteristic changes in disposition. “I’m not interested in being your boyfriend. Or anyone’s boyfriend for that matter.”

You slightly perk up at these words, wondering why it’s so important for him to tell you them now after he’s already took your clothes off and began fingering you into bliss. You don’t say anything in reply, only moan, hoping he’ll add another finger as he continues his languid movements.

“And if that’s an issue for you,” he continues, his voice grave and deep. “If you can’t fuck me knowing that, then we should stop now.”

To perhaps emphasize how serious he’s being, Leehan takes his finger out from you in one sudden movement, leaving you empty and unsatisfied. It has it’s desired effect because you find yourself sitting up, finally taking real consideration of his words.

“But if you still want me,” he says, the two of you face to face in a way that lets you see the absence of amusement in his expression for the first time since he started talking. “Then dare I say that I’ll look foward to this becoming a regular thing between us. Should you want that, of course.”

He runs a hand through his hair, perhaps expressing a bit of nervousness as he awaits your response to this sudden proposition you’ve been given. Finding it hard to take any of his musings serious, you reach a hand up to cup his cheek. “I mean, you’re not wrong,” you assert with a tilt of your head. “Why settle down when you can fuck anyone you want?”

Immediately understanding what you’re referencing, Leehan smirks. “You heard that?”

“Yeah,” you confirm with a pitying half-smile, “and it almost made every bit of attraction I had for you dry up.”

Even as Leehan smiles shyly, looking down to avoid your gaze, you still don’t get the feeling that he’s at all regretful about what you heard him say. “I mean, was I wrong?” he raises, running his fingers along the skin of your bare leg. “Right now, you’re what I want, and I’m fucking you, aren’t I? Is that not what this is?”

Faced with the reality of Leehan’s advances for the first time, you have a hard time deciding how you feel about the proposition he’s posed. You feel pulled to Leehan in a way you haven’t felt for anyone, ever. And a part of you is disappointed and maybe even a little sad that he’s basically asking you to boil down a dynamic you were curious to watch grow to just detached, casual sex.

Earlier, when you went bungee-jumping, it stuck with you when Leehan mentioned never having been in love before. Is this why? Because he prefers relationships that are devoid of any true emotional connection?

You could say no and remain friends. You’d be able to watch your relationship play out in a platonic manner. But that would be denying yourself of some of the best sex of your adult life, not to mention the pure herione that is feeling sexually desired and wanted by him.

Faced with such a dilemma, you defer to your instincts. And instinctually, you’re inclined to believe that maybe you and Leehan were meant to meet this way. Before now, you don’t think you would have ever went for someone like Leehan with romantic intentions.

He’s too wayward, too free-spirited.

And yet, your paths were brought together in an unlikely way, and perhaps you should lean into the feeling that caused you to follow him into a stranger’s bedroom just a few weeks ago – the promise of mindblowing sex.

“You’re an enigma, Kim Leehan,” you declare with sincerity. “I don’t want to be your girlfriend either. No offense.”

“None taken,” he replies with breezy indifference, bringing his hand to lay over the one you have on his face. “But don’t say that so easily. You don’t know me well enough yet.”

You roll your eyes at yet another show of cockiness from him. “And are you saying if I did, I would fall for you?”

Even as his expression remains passive, he replies forebodingly, “Isn’t that usually how these things end?”

You’re not sure what to make of that statement, so you decide not to respond. “Like I said, I don’t want to be your girlfriend. I do, however, want you to fuck the shit out of me. You’re capable of that, no?”

Leehan stares at you like he’s only now just capturing you and your essence, and his expression is that of someone in awe. It makes your heart and core flutter at the same time. “I really hope you mean it when you say you don’t want to be my girlfriend, Y/N,” he mumbles, and then, he’s leaning in to kiss you.

It’s as if there was never a lapse in intensity as you’re quickly brought back to the passion and vigor from before through the strength of Leehan’s kiss. Sliding his hands underneath your legs, he scoops your entire body up and positions you so that you’re laying down directly underneath him. It’s from there that he takes your shirt off, finding you braless underneath and wasting no time in attaching his mouth to your nipple.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” he mumbles reverently, hands caressing the sides of your body as he switches from licking at your hardened nipple to talking. “You don’t understand how much I’ve been dreaming about this pussy since I had it.”

You want to tell him how flattering it is to hear that he’s been thinking about you in the time since you last had sex, and express your own desire, but you can’t when two of his fingers return to their previous lodgings in your still sopping wet cunt. He no longer holds back like he did before when he wanted you to hear him speak. Making your pleasure his top priority, he bends his slender digits deep inside of you, thrusting them in and out while you cry out with each brush against your g-spot.

“Does that feel good?” he asks, and if you weren’t so immersed in your own approaching climax, you’d laugh at how genuinely invested he sounds in knowing whether or not he’s doing a good job. To you, it should be more than obvious how well he’s doing by the way you arch your back at every thrust, reaching up to peck his lips but failing to maintain a steady kiss because of your moans. But Leehan’s oddball tendecies and moments of sudden sincerity are too familiar at this point to throw you off – instead, you find it sexy to experience both physically and verbally his commitment to making you feel good.

“Gonna come,” you’re confessing through whimpers just a few moments later, being brought to babbles as Leehan uses his thumb to stimulate your clit. His eyebrows become furrowed as he zeroes in on the pace that has thus far brought you to climax, rather than speeding up.

What once intimidated you was the way that Leehan thoroughly studies your expressions as you’re experiencing pleasure. His searing eye contact, his unreadablly passionate expression, the way it’s almost as if he’s looking through you rather than at you. And yet, when the intensity of your orgasm begins to travel throughhout your body, the sound of him saying, “Come on my hand,” ringing softly in your ears, it’s through looking in his eyes that things feel increasingly more passionate.

To feel this sexually connected to someone who up until this point was just a one-night-stand confounds you, and yet leaning in to such connection has led to some of the best orgasms of your life.

“Turn around, pretty girl,” is what he tells you after you’ve come down from your orgasm, and in your eagenerness to get him inside of you, you follow the request without question. Still, remembering his insistence from before about wanting to maintain eye contact when he fucks, you find yourself teasingly asking while facing the bedsheets, “What happened to wanting eye contact?”

“Who said we couldn’t?” he raises playfully in reply, and before you can question what he means, you feel one of his large hands snaking around your body. He pushes at your stomach and hips, helping you into an elevated arch. From here, it’s much easier for you to turn your head around without craning your neck, something you realize as Leehan pulls gently at your hair and meets you for a sloppy kiss.

When he pulls away, you shiver, your body reacting in shock to the attractive gesture. He notices this with a grin and must interpret the reaction as nervousness. “Don’t worry. I don’t bite. Unless you like that?”

“Shut up,” you grumble, laughing as he sits up and releases his hold on your waist. It causes you to fall flat on the bed, where you relax in anticipation as you hear the sounds of him taking his clothes off behind you.

“The fact that you even remembered I said that makes me happy,” he remarks in reference to the eye contact comment, and the sudden sentimentality of that statement makes you feel non-sexual related butterflies towards the man behind you. But your focus is brought back to the sex as he positions himself behind you, gripping onto his shaft and rubbing it along the expanse of your slit. You moan, but then remember that you neglected to think of protection.

“Fuck, I forgot about condoms.”

“Don’t worry. I have some,” he says, and you watch over your shoulder as he goes to rummage through the pockets of his sweatpants, discarded and left on the edge of the bed.

“Should I ask why you came on this trip prepared for condoms?”

“Because cum makes for the best fish bait,” he replies ironically in response, and you realize then how attracted you must be to Leehan to hear him say these sorts of things completely sincerly and not lose even an ounce of your desire for him. He’s not at all deterred by your lack of reaction to his musings, either. Lining his condom-clothed cock up with your entrance, he asks, “Are you ready, sweet girl?”

If the fact that your entire body was buzzing with arousal wasn’t enough for you to want him to fuck you, the use of that pet name takes you over the edge. “Yes, please.”

“Gonna go slow so you can feel every inch of me,” he informs you fliratiously, pushing inside of you and making true to every part of that promise as you feel every inch, ridge, and vein of his cock as it enters, making you mewl until he’s balls deep. “How’s that?” he asks in search of your approval.

“So, so good Leehan,” you reply, loving the way that you can look back into his eyes and see the same pleasure you’re experiencing etched into his expression, furrowed eyebrows and lip between his teeth as he begins to thrust into you.

He makes a throaty, husky mhmm noise in your ear, something you reciprocate in your own whiny way in reaction to the languid pace he’s set. A hand on the left of your body is used to hold himself up while the other rests on your lower stomach, helping to push you backward on his cock so that the impact of his each thrust is doubled by both of your efforts. The words “You’re perfect. Absolutely fucking perfect,” mumbled into your ear as he fucks you make your entire body stand on end, something about being fucked just right in combination with his poetic way of talking making you absolutely crazy.

Still maintaining eye contact with you, you feel the warmth of his body leave your back as he sits up fully. You’re almost dismayed until you feel pressure against your asshole, hearing him say, “Do you like it when I play with you here, too?”

“Oh my god, Leehan,” you exclaim in reply, the pressure of his thumb against your ass in combination with his thrusts become too much in the best way. “Don’t stop.”

Leehan doesn’t stop, and in fact, as you hear him lewdly spit on the surface of his hand, his thumb penetrates the tight expanse of your asshole. You moan as the added stiumulation makes your climax feel like it’s coming at you at an even faster rate than before. And Leehan, clearly perceptive to this, says, “Not yet. Beg for it.”

In your desperation to come, you don’t question the next words out of your mouth; in fact, you relish in the way Leehan groans in response to them. “Want you to make me come, Leehan. Please. Wanna feel you come inside of me.”

Continuing the trend of breeding-related teasing, you find that a remark which should be nonsensical considering the condom you both feel him wearing, if anything makes you both more turned on. “Take it then, baby. Coax it out of me,” he tells you, and by the withering sound of his voice, you can tell he’s close to climaxing. In a moment of serendipitous alignment, you find that you too, are dangling over an edge where on the other side is another moment of Earth-shattering pleasure.

It’s something as simple as a wiggle of his thumb inside of you, a thrust so firm that it almost causes your arch to collapse, that has you reaching the peak of your pleasure. And Leehan, whose pained expression you can see as you never once stop looking behind your shoulder, quickly follows you with a hoarse grunt. There is something just so amorous about reaching that peak together, something like pride and satisfaction and fondness washing over you at once until you’re both collapsing tiredly on the bed next to each other.

You’re first to break the breathing-filled silence, turning on your side to look at Leehan and finding him more attractive than ever in his post-orgasm state. “I don’t think I’ll ever get over how good you are at that,” you tell him, feeling suddenly inclined to reach out and swipe at the stray pieces of hair on his forehead. You resist if only to maintain the boundary of familiarity that has only loosely been established between the two of you.

But to your surprise, Leehan reaches out to lace his hand into yours, defying any sort of expectation that you shouldn’t continue to remain physically close after sex. He raises both of your arms upward in a trumphant gesture that makes you laugh. “We. How good we are at that,” he remarks correctivley.

He lets your hand go and for a second you both just lay there in comfortable silence, until you realize the entire reason why you’re staying at a hotel six hours away from home. “Wait. What time is it? Did we miss the eclipse?”

Leehan leisurely reaches for his phone on the bedstand, taking a quick glance at the time before bringing the screen it to your view. It’s just a few minutes after 11:30. “Perfect timing, actually,” he says, and then, raising a questioning eyebrow, asks, “Shall we go out together?”

It is of course, as a result of your utmost predilections, to say yes, so within a few moments you’re both dressed in your previously discarded clothes and headed outside the hotel.

Even if it was a concern for you, you luckily don’t have to worry about the rest of the group making conclusions about the fact that you arrive together, because you go outside to find that they’re all too focused in finding a good spot to lay out on the grass to get the best view of the approaching eclipse.

Jaehyun, flamboyant as ever, has Sungho help him onto the hood of his car so that he can get on top and watch it from there. Everyone else either scatters on the grass with blankets or leans against the car. You ultimately settle for watching it behind everyone else, standing in the spce just between the car and the grass.

The eclipse, just as expected, is a beautiful sight. But what excites you more is the moment when you feel someone’s hands snaking around your body and into the front pockets of your shorts. Leehan hugs you from behind, saying nothing as he rests his chin on the top of your head and relaxes into you. Standing in the back of the group, no one else notices the moment between the two of you, which makes it feel that much more special.

As you tilt your head up to confirm it’s him and observe the way he watches the eclipse dreamily, it fills you with thoughts about the budding relationship between you two. You can’t help but think back to the words you overheard him saying earlier in the car.

They were the sentiments of someone who seemingly had no regard for what it meant to share your body with someone for an extended period time, to bare yourself physically and emotionally for the pleasure of another person.

But in your time with Leehan, you’ve never been made to feel that way. Like lightning in a bottle, the chemistry and connection between the two of you is not something that could be manufactured.

Far from feeling as if you’re too special for this to end, you simply are confident that, even if this grows to be nothing more than sex, the feeling of being wanted and desired by Leehan is too good for you to ever be made discontent.

As you pack up to leave the next day, Leehan lets Riwoo drive his car for a chance to relax instead of having to be alert for six hours. He sits in the backseat with you, and for one final moment of tenderness between the two of you, he spends the entire ride with his head rested against your shoulder, snoring softly as your closeness renders him sleepy and relaxed.

part 3 coming soon :)

taglist: @lailols @papichulomacy @0310s @softiwoon @gardenforwon @cherrytaesan @mryuyux @saintriots

comment or send an ask to be added to the taglist!

#leehan #boynextdoor #leehan smut #boynextdoor smut #leehan x reader #leehan fluff #leehan angst #boynextdoor fics #hornychristianprincess #donghyun boynextdoor #boy next door smut #donghyun smut #donghyun boy next door smut #kpop smut #kpop angst #kpop fluff

148 notes · View notes

awakenedevildays · 2 days

Note

hi love! may I request some angst with art where family friend!reader gets invited to the Donaldson’s yearly fundraiser gala and they spend the night yearning and pining over art. if you can, make it as heart wrenching as possible ♡ thank you and keep up the great work!

「wrong choices」 Art Donaldson x F!reader

I'm so exited, this is the real first fic I write under request, thank you so much for requesting love, hope this is good enough for you! 🩷(didn't know if you wanted a sad or happy ending and I got carried away with an happy one, if you want an angst ending let me know)

info: angst, fluff, kissing, mentions of cheating (on reader), happy ending.

you can read the other parts here!

━━━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━━━

You love galas, you always did: ever since you were little you and your family had to attend many galas and you would always be head over the heels at the idea of dressing with cute dresses and beautiful shoes. Yes, you love galas, especially the Donaldson's.

You've been to the Donaldson family's galas for ages and they never disappoint. No, truly, they know how to put on an event. With beautiful dresses to wear (always wearing the latest from fashion designers), incredible music- every year different- and even the best food in the state; these galas always excite you.

Another thing that made you exited about their galas was the only child of the family: the blonde, blue and brown eyed, sweet guy you met at the first gala you attended at the sweet age of six years old, Art Donaldson.

You've always liked him, when you were little he would take you around his huge villa to play whatever game you two would invent at that moment and at the end of the night your dress and his little tuxedo would be all wrinkled, sometimes dirty, hair all out of place that caused your moms to lightly scold you... at the end neither your mother nor his cared much if at the end of the evening you both looked like you had just returned from a day of planting flowers with your bare hands.

Things obviously changed as time went on: after Art's 17th and your 16th birthday, at least at the beginning of the evening, you seemed determined to pay attention and talk to the other guests... but it never lasted too long before Art dragged you away with him to share a bottle of wine with your feet immersed in his outdoor pool.

The last year the same thing happened.

"Art, you can't always kidnap me when I'm talking to someone" you wanted to sound serious, you really did, but his boyish smile was too cute and the expensive wine bottle he had in his hand was too tempting.

"Come on! don't act like you really wanted to listen to those boring conversations with those boring business men" he said, his hand dragging you by your wrist towards the pool.

Once you were close enough he released your wrist and took off his shoes and socks, his feet in the water immediately after while you stood there, he looked at you.

"please" he said and you scolded him with your eyes before shaking your head and taking off your heels and lifted your dress up to your thighs to avoid getting it wet, you sat down next to him, your feet touched the cool water and a sigh left your mouth, you didn't realize how bad they were hurting in the shoes.

Art grinned at you and you looked ay him skeptical "what" you ask, a fake annoyed look on your face .

"see? even your feet are thanking me" he said and you met his left shoulder with your right one.

"shut up, you're getting ruder and ruder with each passing year" you joked and Art passed to bottle to you to take the first sip, always the gentleman.

Art chuckled and watched as you took the first sip, the cool, smooth liquid sliding down your throat. He knew you better than almost anyone and could tell when you were being serious and when you were just acting tough to save face.

"Don't worry, I know you secretly love me" he teased, nudging your shoulder with his own. Art took the bottle back from you, taking a small sip before speaking again "and besides, I'm not getting ruder, I'm just becoming more charming and witty."

You raised your eyebrows at him and decided not to indulge him any further "so, how is the tennis school going?" you asked and Art shrugged.

"good" he answered with a shrug.

"and Patrick?".

"still the same asshole" he laughed "he won't be coming to Standford with me in fall".

"he's going in another college?" he shook his head.

"he plans on going on a tour".

"mhhh" you said and Art looked at you suspiciously.

"you seem really interested in Patrick" his tone not as light as it was before and you raised your head to look at him, but he was already looking at the water of the pool, jaw clenched.

There was something in Art's demeanor change that caught your attention. It was subtle, but palpable. The relaxed and playful atmosphere between you two had shifted, and Art's jaw was now tense. You knew him well enough to realize that something was bothering him, and judging by his comment about Patrick, you had an idea of what it might be. You decided to tread lightly with your next words, wanting to understand what had triggered this sudden change in his mood "what makes you say that?" you asked, trying to keep your tone casual.

"every time we see each other you always ask about him, you saw him only once like what, 3 years ago?" he asked ironically and your eyes widened "okay, slow down Donaldson, where is this all coming from? I'm just trying to have a conversation with you" you said as gently as possible.

Art leaned back a little, taking another swig from the bottle before responding. His tone was still a little on edge, but he knew you enough to understand you were just trying to calm things down "I know you're just trying to have a conversation, but seriously, why are you so interested in Patrick all of a sudden?" he questioned, his gaze still fixed on the water.

"I'm not interested in Patrick" your tone was serious and suddenly maintaining eyes contact with him was harder.

Art turned to look at you, his gaze intense, searching yours. He could see the conviction in your eyes and hear it in your tone, but something was still bothering him. He paused a moment before speaking again "then why are you always asking about him?" he asked, his voice a bit softer now.

"Because I care about your life, I care about you and Patrick is a part of your life, that's all, I swear" you didn't know why, but the thought of Art thinking that you had feelings for another man felt wrong but somewhat satisfying.

Art sighed, the tension in his shoulders seemed to ease a little. He could see the truth in your words, and his own jealousy subsided a little. "Sorry" he said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "I guess I just got a little..." he admitted, his gaze darting from you back to the pool.

"...Jealous? aw aren't you the sweetest friend ever?" you pinched his cheek with your fingers and Art laughed, his hand grasped yours to take it off his cheek, but once away from his face his hand stayed wrapped around your, his thumb caressing the back of it.

Art's laughter filled the air, breaking the tension between you. The warmth of his hand enclosing yours sent a shiver up your spine, his thumb gently stroking your skin. There was something intimate about the touch, something that defied the boundaries of mere friendship. For a moment, you were both silent, the only sound being the gentle lapping of the water against the sides of the pool.

Art looked down at your joined hands, his thumb continuing its slow, soothing motion against your skin.

"I'm sorry" he said again and you shook your head.

"It's okay" you muttered and your eyes met, his blue light of the pool shined on his face, hands still intertwined on his thigh and his eyes looked briefly at your lips.

"what if, what if I don't want to be your friend" your heart skipped a bit.

"u-uh?" you asked.

Art swallowed hard, his gaze locked with yours. The air around you suddenly felt charged, the casual setting of the poolside now seemed intimate and intense "what are you... what are you saying?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. Art's grip on your hand tightened, his thumb still tracing small circles on your skin.

Art leaned a little closer, his eyes still fixed on yours. "What I'm saying is..." he began, his voice low and serious "I don't want to be just your friend anymore" he paused, taking a deep breath before continuing "I don't want to watch you talk and laugh with other men, I can't stand it, it makes me sick".

His words hung in the air between you, the atmosphere thick with tension. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, your mind racing with the implications of what he was saying. Art's hand still held yours tightly, almost as if he was afraid to let go, afraid that you might pull away.

"oh" you felt stupid, utterly and absolutely stupid, the guy whom you had a crush for since forever, just confessed to you and the only thing you can say is...'oh'? Art laughed.

"Don't laugh you asshole!" you exclaimed pushing him away from you, him almost falling in the pool.

"Can you not like... push me in the pool just cause I confessed to you?" he said between laughters and your cheeks flushed red.

"I'm sorry you caught me off guard!" you said bringing the bottle to your mouth and taking a big sip, you couldn't have this conversation sober.

Art finally managed to regain his balance, still laughing as he held onto the side of the pool for support. "It's okay, it's okay" he said, his laughter slowly dying down as he regained his composure.

"But seriously, you can't just say 'oh'" he teased once again, his tone turning playful again as he splashed a bit of water at you jokingly.

You stayed silent and Art waited for you to answer, it took you all the strength you had to maintain eye contact with him "I like you too" you said, face serious and red cheeks and Art nodded.

"oh" his tone light was clearly teasing you.

"ok, now I'm pushing you in the pool on purpose" you said.

Art burst into laughter at your words, his eyes sparkling with amusement. He held up his hands in surrender "No, no, no, please don't" he said between chuckles but his tone was full of teasing.

As he spoke, he shifted closer to you, his thigh now touching yours. He reached out and lightly pushed your shoulder, the playful gesture causing a ripple in the water between you.

Art's teasing expression quickly vanished at your words, his hand that was still on your shoulder froze "what?" he asked, his tone slightly sharper than it was before.

"I should ask Patrik if he's single I don't think h-" your joking sentence is interrupted by his lips on yours, a hand behind your head and the other on your thigh and you immediately rested yours on his cheeks.

Art's lips were soft and firm against yours, the taste of the expensive wine still lingered on his tongue as he kissed you passionately. His hand on your thigh moved to your waist to pulls you closer to him, his fingers digging slightly into your skin through the fabric of your dress. He wanted you as close as possible, as if he couldn't get enough of you.

Your hands moved from his cheeks up to thread through his hair, slightly tugging it and eliciting a low groan from him. He deepened the kiss, his tongue teasing yours. The world around you seemed to disappear as the two of you surrendered to the moment, the cool water of the pool forgotten as the heat between you grew increasingly intense.

Art pulled away from the kiss, his forehead resting against yours, both of you panting slightly. His eyes searched yours, his expression a mix of desire and disbelief. "You're really gonna mention another man while I'm trying to kiss you" he whispered, his voice hoarse and filled with a hint of jealousy.

“I thought you needed a little push to do that" you teased and Art kissed you again briefly "never do that again" he whispered

The moment in the pool didn't last long after that, your parent messaging you a while after to tell you to get back to the car to go home.

You and Art kept in contact through his first whole year at Standford but too busy to see each other, you with your last year of high school and him with exams and his tennis matches.

So now you have one more reason to be exited about the gala of this year, you would see Art again and you couldn't wait to see what would happen this time.

"You look beautiful" your mom says and you smile at her.

You are standing in your bedroom in front of a full-length mirror admiring yourself in your dress for the gala tonight. The dress is beautiful, hugging your curves perfectly and highlighting your features. You turn and twirl in front of the mirror, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves about tonight.

"Thank you, Mom," you say as she enters the room, a smile on your lips. "I just hope Art likes it too" you add, casually tossing the comment, before mentally kicking yourself for it.

"Please, he's already head over heels for you" she jokes and for the whole drive towards the Donaldson house your legs can't stay still, your hands fussing and stirring your dress over and over again making your parents smile teasingly at you, but you pay them no mind.

Finally, the car pulls up to the Donaldson's house and your heart beats faster at the sight of the grand, familiar building. You take a deep breath, gathering your courage and excitement, before stepping out of the car, your dress flowing behind you like a gentle whisper on the ground.

You walk with your parents toward the entrance of the house, the sound of your stilettos echoing on the paved path.

You step in the garden of the house and Art's parents are already there to greet your family lovingly, Art still nowhere in sight as you walk around with your parents to greet their colleagues and friends and you're only waiting for Art to sweep you off your feet like every year.

As you continue to mingle with your parents and their friends, you keep an eye out for Art, hoping to catch a glimpse of him among the crowd. The anticipation is driving you insane, and just when you're starting to wonder where he could be, you finally catch sight of him across the garden, talking to a group of people, a girl right beside him.

She is beautiful, dark skin and long black hair that reaches her lower back, long legs and thin body wrapped in a blue short but elegant dress... but what really shocks you is his hand, clearly resting on the small of her back. Your heart stops. Your breath short and you have to grip the champagne glass tighter in your hands to avoid letting it fall on the floor.

You couldn't believe what you were seeing. Art, your Art, was standing there with another girl, his hand comfortably resting on the small of her back. You couldn't tear your eyes away from them, your thoughts racing as you tried to make sense of the situation.

Arts eyes meets yours from the other side of the garden and his grin disappears when he sees your sad face "oh there is Art" his mom says and gestures for him to come where you are. As he approaches, you can feel his gaze fixed on you, but you don't meet his eyes, looking anywhere but his face until he stops in front of you, his smile faltering when he sees the expression on your face. But before he can say anything, his mother speaks up.

"Art brought one of the promises of the future female tennis tonight" she says and she smiles, you don't.

Art's mom gestures towards the girl beside him, a proud look on her face. The girl smiles sheepishly, looking shyly at you. Art shifts uncomfortably, his hand dropping from her back as though he's suddenly aware of what it looks like.

You force a smile on your face, despite the churning feeling in your stomach.

"this is Tashi, we met at Standford" he says, his eyes don't meet yours and the lump in your throat is too big to swallow.

The introduction feels like a dagger twisting in your chest. Tashi smiles at you gently, her eyes soft as her gaze flicks between you and Art.

"Nice to meet you," she says, her voice soft and clear. You nod awkwardly, the sound of your own heartbeat ringing in your ears.

"The pleasure is all mine" the exchange of pleasantries feel like nails scraping on a chalkboard. Your parents politely greet Tashi like they do with every important guest at these events, but even you can see the fake smiles plastered on their faces. They know.

She is gorgeous and you feel small next to her... you don't get it, your dress is more elegant than hers, more beautiful but she looks so effortlessly gorgeous in hers and you feel like crying.

The silence that follows feels like a never-ending void. Tashi doesn't speak and Art doesn't as well, his eyes finally meeting yours and you look away immediately, the betrayal in your eyes makes Art's heart clench. Your parents try to make small talk with Tashi, Art's mom jumping in as well but you just stay quiet, your chest tightening and your breath short.

As the conversation turns to the weather, the upcoming year's tennis matches and other mundane topics, your thoughts spiral out of control. Your mind is a mess of thoughts and insecurities. Why did he bring her here? Why is his hand on her back like he owns her? And why, why is he looking at you like neither he knows why he did this?

"I think everyone is gathering in the lounge for the auction," your mom says, breaking the uncomfortable silence. She glances at you, noticing the tension in your shoulders "come, let's go find our seats" she adds, gently placing a hand on your back to lead you away but as the other, Art included, starts to move you stay still and your mom does too.

"actually mom, I think I'll go home" your voice trembles and your mom doesn't know what to answer.

"you want me to come with you?" she asks but you shake your head.

"no you stay with dad, but I need to go" and she nods.

"we'll be home as soon as possible baby" you nod and in a moment you're outside waiting for your driver to come pick you up, you feel so lost. You thought everything was going well with Art, he's been nothing but sweet for the past year and he never, ever mentioned Tashi while talking about his life at Standford.

As the air hits your face outside, you take a deep, shaky breath... You feel lost, confused, betrayed even. Art, the guy you've been in love with for so long, the guy who kissed you the last summer, is now bringing another girl to this event, acting like they're together.

The minutes seem to stretch on forever as you wait for your car. You don't make any attempt to wipe the tears from your face, letting them flow freely down your cheeks. You feel like a fool, standing outside the Donaldson's house, dressed up for a night that quickly turned into a nightmare.

The sound of footsteps behind you is like a punch in the gut. You know it's him without even turning around. Art's presence is unmistakable and you feel him standing behind you even before he speaks.

"Can we talk?" he asks, his voice soft and full of hesitation. You can feel his eyes on your back, studying you, but you don't turn around. The tears keep rolling down your cheeks and you don't have the strength to look at him right now.

Still, you shake your head in a no.

Art's sigh echoes behind you, the disappointment he must be feeling evident in the single breath. He waits for a moment, maybe hoping you'll change your mind, but when you make no attempt to turn around or speak, he finally does. "Please, just a minute" he tries again, his voice pleading.

The desperation in his voice tugs at your heart, but you remain resolute, refusing to turn around. The memory of his hand on Tashi’s back and the sight of the two of them together flashes in your mind and you shake your head in silent answer once again.

"okay, fine" you hear other footsteps and a moment later he is in front of you, you huff in annoyance "you don't understand the signs, do you?" the tone of your voice is aggressive.

Art's eyes widen in surprise at the tone of your voice, clearly caught off guard by your sudden aggression. He opens his mouth to speak, but he seems unable to find the right words, unsure of how to respond to the hostile attitude. He takes a step forward, trying to reach for your hand, but you take a step back, preventing him from touching you.

"I understand you're upset-" he tries to speak, his voice measured but you cut him off.

"Upset? Is that what you think I am?" you say, your voice a mix of anger and disappointment."upset that you brought another girl to this event, acting like she's the one you should be with? I'm not upset, Art. I'm hurt, hurt cause I thought what happened last summer meant something to you, hurt that in a whole year you made me believe that my feeling were reciprocated, hurt that in all those months you never, ever, mentioned a girl named Tashi and I'm hurt because I wasted a whole year of my life waiting for you!" you shout, and you think that for someone who didn't want to talk, you said a lot.

Art flinches at your words, your voice filled with pain and disappointment. He tries to speak but you don't let him, the words pouring out of your mouth like a dam breaking. "And you know what's funny? I actually thought that something would happen between us tonight. I was looking forward to seeing you again and then you come here with her like she's the one you've been waiting for all this time, fuck I feel so stupid right now" your laugh turns into a sob as you realize how foolish you feel.

Art takes a step closer, his expression pained as he sees you unravel in front of him "you're not stupid" he says gently, his hand reaching out to cup your face instinctively, like he used to do a year ago.

"don't touch me" you say and swat his hand away.

Art's hand freezes and he retracts it quickly, the pain on his face is clear but he doesn't argue "I'm sorry" he says softly, his eyes watching you, unsure if he'll try to touch you again, "I never wanted this to happen, I mean it" he says, his eyes locked on yours, imploring you to believe him.

He takes another step towards you, now standing closer than before but not actually touching you "after we kissed that summer, I swear I couldn't stop thinking about you. I was looking forward to this night so bad" he says, his voice genuine and full of yearning "but then you told me you chose Harvard instead of Standford and... I don't know, we would be so far away and- me and Tashi, it's nothing serious" if when he started talking he felt stupid, now by looking at your face, he is sure of it.

"so you thought that keeping me on the hook for the whole year would solve everything, that you could have both of us?"

He shakes his head "no that's not what I wanted" he answers immediately "I want you, only you... I'm sorry" Art's confession is honest and raw, his words a mix of desperation and regret "I never intended to keep you on the hook, I swear, I just didn't know how to handle things... I wanted you, I still want you" he hesitates, looking down for a moment before meeting your eyes again "but now I've messed up, I know. I really screwed up" he admits, his expression pleading for forgiveness.

Your car pulls up and you thank the god for the only good thing happening tonight "well, the good news is that I'm still going to Harvard so you can keep having... whatever thing is going on with Tashi" you say dismissively, the tears are still falling and right now you would love to be one of those strong women that can keep emotions under control, that can keep the eye contact with an emotionless expression and resist until they're alone to finally cry... but you're not, and you're sure you look like a mess right now.

Art watches as your car pulls up, the sight of it bringing a new wave of desperation to his face. He takes a step forward, his hand reaching out for you again, but he stops himself, realizing that his touch is not welcome right now "please, we can talk about this?" he pleads but you brush him off.

"Like I said, keep having whatever thing you have with Tashi" you say, your voice trembling, the tears keep falling down your face as you grab the handle but Art moves quickly, closing the door of the car before you can open it again. He stands in front of it, blocking your path, his expression determined "you're not going anywhere" he says firmly, his eyes locked on yours "we need to talk" he repeats, his voice steady despite the mess of emotions inside him.

You can see in his expression how much he doesn't want you to leave but your heart feels like it's shattered into a million pieces and right now you're just tired "there's nothing to talk about" you say, trying to sound strong but the tears streaming down your face betray you "you were right Art, you have every right to live your college life with someone you can be close to, and I do too" you don't mean that, you know you don't. You want to be with him. But now you just want to go home and cry until you fall asleep.

Art's expression falters at your words, hurt and disappointment etched on his face. He takes a step closer, the proximity making your body react despite the anger and pain "I don't give a damn about my college life" he says frustrated, his emotions raw and unfiltered "I wanted to be with you, I still do. Don't do this, please don't leave like this" his voice breaks slightly as he pleads you.

He reaches for your hand, grasping it in his, the feeling of his touch sending a shiver down your spine "don't run away from this, please" he says, his grip tightening slightly "we can work this out, just don't go" he repeats, his eyes pleading you to stay and talk.

"Art- please, I really want to go home" you sob and Art stills at that, his heart aches at the sound of your sob, the desperation in your voice breaking something in him. You sound so desperate and he doest know what to do anymore, if only he had talked about his insecurities sooner...

He releases your hand, taking a step back to give you space, the conflict and pain visible on his face "I'm sorry" he says softly, his voice low and full of guilt. "If I could go back in time, I would do things so differently" he admits, rubbing a hand on his face in frustration.

You're not listening to him anymore, that much he can tell, he steps back, allowing you to climb into the passenger seat without another word. The defeat in his expression is clear, but he doesn't try to stop you anymore. The sight of you on the passenger seat, tears streaming down your face, is enough to convince him to not hurt you any further.

"I-I'll call you, ok? o-or you could call me when you're ready" he stammers but you don't say anything, you don't even shake or nod your head.

Art stands there helplessly, watching as you refuse to respond to his words. The silence between you feels like a physical barrier, the pain and hurt creating a void that neither of you knows how to fill. He takes a deep breath, looking down for a moment before meeting your eyes again. "I really am sorry" he says again, his voice cracking slightly with emotion. Still nothing, your eyes are fixed in front of him, "okay.. goodnight" he shuts the door and watches your car drive away, the taillights growing smaller and smaller until they disappear from sight. His hands curl into fists at his side as a mixture of frustration and sadness washes over him. He had messed everything up and now he was standing there alone, his heart shattered along with yours.

Art spends the rest of the summer trying to contact you: he sends text after text, voicemail after voicemail, begging for you to talk to him and try to fix things, but every time you see his name flash on your screen you feel a pang of pain in your chest and you end up deleting his messages without opening them.

At the same time, you're busy preparing for your move to Harvard and throwing yourself into the tasks at hand, anything to distract yourself from the thoughts of Art that keep creeping into your mind.

Despite your best efforts, the thought of Art is always there, lingering in the back of your mind. Every time you pack a box or organize your new room, memories of the times you spent together flash before your eyes. And even when you're with your new college friends, sharing excitement about the upcoming year, a part of you can't help but wonder what Art is doing and if he's just as wrecked as you are.

Every time your fingers hover over Art's name on your phone, a mix of longing and fear washes over you. You want to hear his voice, to pour out your heart and ask if he's feeling the same ache you are, but the fear of finding out that he has moved on, that he's happy without you stops you every time. You feel stuck between the need to reach out and the fear of what you might find.

The first two months at Harvard are a whirlwind of new experiences, but they're also marked by the new, completely absence of Art that stopped calling since the start of the college year. The silence from him is deafening, and the realization that he's moved on stings more with each passing day. Every time you think about him, your heart clenches as if the wound is still fresh. You try to push the thoughts aside, but the memories and the ache for him persist, refusing to let you fully move on.

It's a sunny October day, the sun is shining brightly, a warm contrast to the slightly chilly autumn breeze that brushes against your face as you're walking with your new friends, everyone chattering away excitedly about the upcoming autumn break. Your eyes are fixed on the path in front of you, as you're listening to your friends speaking, laughs loud and your smile genuine

"ok girls don't look now, but a really cute guy is looking at our Y/N right now, on the left, the one leaned against the wall" your friend's words catch your attention and you try hard not to look but curiosity gets the best of you and almost instinctively, you and your friends simultaneously turn to the left, your heads swiveling to catch a glimpse of the guy leaning against the wall.

The moment you turn, your heart stops. Your steps falter and your eyes widen as you recognize the figure standing there. It's Art. His eyes immediately connect with yours and time seems to freeze.

He smiles, clearly insecure, but smiles and you can see a mixture of nervousness and anticipation in his eyes, yours rakes over his body to take him in: he is wearing a dark blue quarter zip, a white shirt underneath, light blue jeans and white sneakers, his hands in his front pocket and his hair are messy from the wind going through them.

"Do you know him?" your friend's question breaks the intense moment of eye contact between you and Art and you're snapped back to reality. You try to speak, but your mouth seems to have forgotten how to form words, the words are stuck in your throat, along with all the emotions that are now swirling inside you.

Your friends are looking at you, a mix of curiosity and confusion on their faces. One of them repeats the question, nudging your shoulder slightly to bring you back to the present. You swallow hard, still unable to find your voice, your eyes darting back to Art who's still standing there, watching you with a mixture of hope and nervousness in his eyes "uhm yeah, he is an old friend" you mutter.

Your voice comes out soft and a bit shaky as you finally manage to speak. You say that he's an old friend, trying to keep it casual despite the storm of emotions rushing through you. They exchange a knowing glance as they realize that there's more to your relationship with Art.

"we should leave them alone, we'll save a place for you" one of them say and the others nod, you feel a mixture of nervousness and anticipation as you watch your friends walk away, their forms shrinking in the distance in the orange Harvard park.

As you take a tentative step towards Art, time seems to slow down, each movement feeling weighted under his intense gaze. Your heart is beating faster, and you can feel the adrenaline coursing through your veins. You try to keep your expression neutral, but it’s difficult to hide the mixture of anticipation and anxiety that you feel.

His gaze never leaves your face, watching your every move as he moves away from the wall "what are you doing here?" you ask breathless and it's a miracle Art heard you.

"I called you" he says.

You nod "I know".

Art takes a few steps towards you "You never answered" there is no accusation in his voice and you nod.

"I know".

The silence hangs heavy between you "college life suits you, you look beautiful".

"what are you doing here?" you ask and Art looks at his shoes before forcing himself to maintain eye-contact.

"I missed you" he answers immediately and suddenly the wall behind Art is really interesting.

"you could have sent me a message, it would have been less expensive".

"would you have answered me this time?" you open your mouth to answer him but nothing that would be the truth comes out.

"probably not" he laughs at that, but there's a hint of melancholy in that laugh, mixed with a tinge of understanding.

"I guess that's fair" he says, rubbing the back of his neck in a nervous gesture. He takes a moment to collect himself before continuing "I thought coming here was the only way to see you" he confesses, his voice softer now.

Your arms are crossed, a subtle barrier between you and him as you listen to his words. He looks sincere and a pang of guilt twists in your stomach when he mentions that he thought this was the only way to see you. You know you could have answered his messages or calls, but something in you wouldn't allow it.

"You could've answered one of my calls even if to just scream at me or to tell me to fuck off".

You chuckle weakly "maybe I should have. But I was... I was really hurt and confused" you admit, your voice slightly shaky. He takes a step closer to you, the distance between you shrinking even more.

"I'm sorry" he mutters, he takes your face in his hands and you let him, he missed your skin in his hands, you nod, again.

"I know you are" you murmur.

"I love you" your eyes widens.

Art's hands feel warm and familiar on your face, and you let him hold you. Your hands grip his sweater, holding on to him as if you're scared he might disappear. Tears start to form in your eyes.

"oh" you mentally facepalm yourself and close your eyes as tight as you can, you can hear Art suppress a laugh.

"yeah... 'oh'... you should really work on a better way to react to good news".

"Art... what you said that night is true, we are so far away now and I don't want us to suffer the long distance" he shakes his head as you speak.

"No, no I was wrong, never been more wrong. If there are two people who can do it is us" he assures you.

"but what about Tashi?" you ask and Art takes a deep breath, his hands still holding your face. The mention of Tashi's name hangs in the air for a moment, and your insecurity is almost palpable to him. He looks into your eyes as he tries to find the right words to say.

"I don't care about Tashi, I never did" he says firmly, his voice filled with conviction "all I care about is you and only you. You're the one I love, you're the one I want to be with. Tashi is nothing to me" Art's grip on your face tightens slightly as he speaks. His eyes search yours, attempting to convey the sincerity behind his words.

"I'm sorry about everything, I swear I'll do anything you want me to do! I can come here every week-end and we'll spend the vacations together or I can transfer here, I can play tennis here too-" your lips interrupt his ramble but he doesn't waste time to return it. Art's lips move against yours with a mixture of passion and desperation, as if he's finally found what he's been searching for.

As the kiss deepens, Art's hands on your waist pull you impossibly close, closing the already small gap between your bodies. You can feel the hunger and need in his touch, the months you've spent apart making the kiss even more intense.

"god- fuck, I missed you so much" his words against your lips are even sweeter than the kiss itself and you feel like melting in his arms, you missed him too "you have no idea how much I missed you" he mutters before capturing your lips again in a bruising kiss.

Your cheeks are not cold anymore, your entire body feels hot with affection and you mutter an 'I love you' that makes Art pull back slightly, his forehead resting against yours as he listens to the words you whisper. A soft smile tugs at the corners of his lips as he repeats them "I love you too". You can feel the heat radiating from his body, his hands on your waist keeping you closer than ever.

"you don't have to move here for me, we can make this work" you reassure him and finally a genuine and wide smile takes space on your face for him again.

Art visibly relaxes at your words, the tension leaves his shoulders and he lets out a small sigh of relief "really?" he asks, his eyes searching yours for any hint of doubt. Your reassurance washes away some of his worries, and he allows himself to believe that it could actually work, that you could make it work despite the distance.

"really".

"so we're okay now- ow!" Art winces as your hand connects with the side of his head, a mix of surprise and amusement on his face.

"Now we're okay" you smile in victory.

"I guess I deserved that" he says rubbing the spot where you slapped him. Despite the gentle reprimand, his eyes are filled with relief and happiness as he nods "yeah, we're okay now" he affirms, a warm smile spreading across his face.

━━━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━━━

Do not copy or repost.

#art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x you #art donaldson imagine #art donaldson fluff #art donaldson #challengers #challengers fic

126 notes · View notes