#reblogging this for the first time in years because I’d forgotten how much it makes me SMILE

[kingofbodyrolls]

Jungkook fic recs 2023

In honor of Jungkook’s birthday, I want to share my ultimate favorite Jungkook fanfictions, that I’ve read this year 💜I want to thank each and every writer on this list for creating such wonderful stories and art - you are truly amazing ✨ All the fics on this list hold a dear place in my heart 🥹

❗Most of these fics are smutty as hell, so minors dni.❗ 

If you read anything on this list and you like it, please leave a comment to the writer or reblog the original fic’s post 💜And if you want more fic recs you can follow me to stay updated 🙂

BTS fic rec index → May | Jun | Jul | Aug | Sep (💜)(knj) | Oct (pjm) | Nov (*) | Dec (ksj)(kth) |

Emoji meaning → angst = 🌩️, smut = 🥵, fluff = 🥰, comedy = 😂. 

⭐Two point Five: pt1, pt2, pt3 [series] by @bratkook // jjk x f.reader // handyman!jk, s2f2l // 🥵🥰

📝 Who would have thought booking a handyman from an app would lead to this. sure, you wish he’d mount you instead of just your television, but you could totally be friends. Right?

🗨️ This is also one of my all time favorites! 💎There is just something incredibly hot about handyman JK 🥵 It is so good, juicy, smutty and there’s comedy in it too! Please don’t be sleeping on this one.

⭐Caught Me by @jeongi // jjk x f.reader // roommate!au, e2l // 🥵😂

📝 You hate your temporary roommate, jungkook and it doesn’t help that he’s been catching you at the most inconvenient of times.

🗨️ This is a fucking MASTERPIECE 💖 I love the banter and comedy, how JK gets on readers nerves 😂 I love absolutely every fucking thing about this and don’t get me started on the smut 🔥🔥 🔥

⭐The Forgotten Spaces [completed series] by @oddinary4bts // jjk x reader // college!au, dancer!au + e2l // 🌩️🥵🥰

📝 You’ve been dancing on the same dance crew since your teenage years, and you finally have an important role in it. It feels like life is taunting you when your rival comes back after disappearing for a year, ready to tease you every chance he gets. Will the teasing turn into more, or are you going to take him down with you?

🗨️ This is truly a masterpiece! The writing is perfection and the characters have so much soul, dimension, hurt and love. It is exceptional 👏🏾♥️ you just have to read this gem 💎

⭐McD*ckin by @jinned // jjk x f.reader // slice of life, fast food worker!jk, customer!reader, s2l // 🥵😂

📝 “So, if I’m so predictable,” you tease, running your finger along his clothed chest, “what am I going to do next?”

🗨️ I’d like to order a McChicken please 🙋🏾‍♀️🥵💦 this was funny, and actually made me laugh like a freak at some points 🤣 also the second hand embarrassment 😳🙈 It really cheered me up. I really liked the ordering menu when reader arrived 🙈🤭 also the ending, which was unexpected for me, but I quite liked it because it wasn’t “super happy and lovey dovey” like most of the stories I read, but still open 😊

⭐The Wedding Planners by @gukyi // jjk x f.reader // e2l, wedding!au // 🥰🥵🌩️

📝 Jeon Jungkook is three things: cocky, terrible, and your worst enemy. Then your best friend Hoseok gets engaged to the love of his life, and suddenly Jeon Jungkook is four things: cocky, terrible, your worst enemy, and the man you will be spending the next seven months with in order to plan your best friend’s wedding. And then, as if your life couldn’t get any shittier, you make the poor decision of sleeping with him on the first day of the job.

⭐In the Dark by @jksangelic // jjk x pjm x f.reader // threesome, f2l, mxm  // 🥵😂

📝 “I can’t get a signal on my phone, the car is dead, and I’m fairly certain we are out of matches.”

⭐Oh My God, They Were (Quarantined) Roommates 💯 by @ot7always // jjk x f.reader // college!au, roommates!au // 🥰🥵

📝 What do you do when you’re quarantined for months on end with Jeon Jungkook - S tier cuddler, workout robot, and thirst trap extraordinaire? Fuck him, you guess.

⭐Anpanman by @honeymoonjin // jjk x f.reader // bf2l // 🥵😂🥰

📝 Your best friend jungkook finally convinces you to seek therapy for your failing mental health. the only catch? the one therapist that’s within your price range is an alternative marriage counsellor, jung hoseok, and the only way jungkook managed to get you an appointment was by saying the two of you were married. will couples counselling actually be useful for your wellbeing, or will something that runs much deeper rise to the surface instead?

⭐The Boy with Galaxies in His Eyes by @oddinary4bts // jjk x reader // idol!au + fwb2l // 🌩️🥵🥰

📝 You had never thought the night sky could be found in someone’s eyes. That is, until you met Jeon Jungkook and his gravity pulled you in. Will he crush you with the galaxies in his eyes, or will you learn to explore his worlds and make them yours?

🗨️ It is a long one, but damn is it worth it! It will take you for the very best rollercoaster ride of your life. So if you haven’t read this yet, what are you honestly doing with your life? 

Borahae and happy birthday Kookie 💜 🥳 🎂 

[jeonqkooks]

half past you | myg

pairing: musician!yoongi x reader rating: PG genre/warnings: exes au, exes to ???, angst, drinking, unedited, ehhhhh that's it probably word count: 1k note: i do not know what this is, or if it even makes sense! a spontaneous drabble courtesy of the sunday blues :D

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

Yoongi is getting big.

Not physically.

Well, maybe he's getting physically bigger too. You don't know that.

It's half past ten, and you're half over Yoongi, half drunk from drinking wine out of a shot glass in this almost empty bar.

Let's start over from the beginning.

What you mean is, Yoongi's career is taking off.

You don't want to sound like a bitter ex, but you don't particularly enjoy reading his name on news articles, hearing his music come on the radio, watching his face start to appear on fashion magazines more frequently.

You're happy for him, you truly are. You just resent the reminder that this is what he chose over you.

What he left you behind for.

Okay, that might be a little unfair.

You know that it was a decision that you both agreed to in the end, but every time you're intoxicated, you can't help the thought.

You left me.

You left me.

You left me.

Flagging down the bartender, you ask for a refill. He complies, though he still shoots you an unsubtle look when he goes to pour more rosé into your shot glass.

The shot glass makes it fun, and makes you forget that you really don't like the taste of wine of any kind.

But Yoongi does.

You're sitting in Yoongi's favorite bar, drinking an alcohol that Yoongi likes but you can barely tolerate, while he's out there somewhere singing at yet another sold out venue. After the gig is finished, he'll probably have a companion for the night too.

He doesn't know that you miss him. You miss him so much that it feels like you've forgotten how to breathe. Just the mere thought of him is enough to bring tears to your eyes.

It's been three months since you last saw him, since he packed up his things and moved out of your shared apartment. He told you that it was for the best, and you believed him. You still do, because Yoongi was always the logical one.

You couldn't follow him on tour, and he convinced you that it was better to end things on your own terms than to let the inevitable distance end it for you. He was probably right, but that doesn't mean that you haven't been going through hell since he made his swift exit.

Maybe you were stupid, or unlucky, or a disastrous combination of both. You knew that this was his dream for as long as he could remember. He worked his ass off his entire life to get where he is now, to have all of the things that he has accomplished along the way. You knew it. You were even his biggest supporter during the two years that you were together, rooting for him at every turn, holding him up whenever he wanted to fall down.

Yes, it was what he wanted ever since he laid eyes on a guitar for the first time. It was his dream before he met you, and it will still be his dream long after you. Even though he loved you, this would always be his destination. You both realized this when it was already too late.

You down your last shot of the night, wincing when the unpleasant taste tickles the back of your throat. As you make your way to the door, there's a silhouette in a corner booth that makes you stop. You think you might know who it is, but when the man turns his face toward the light, your heart immediately drops.

You blink, then chuckle to yourself. It's a laughable offense, to even think for a split second that this stranger bears any resemblance to your Yoongi.

Well, not yours anymore.

On the cab ride home, disappointment occupies the seat next to you. You don't know what you would've done if it did turn out to be Yoongi at the bar. Pretend that you didn't see him and run away maybe? That seems like the most plausible scenario.

He must have moved on already, and you wouldn't even blame him if he has. He isn't the sentimental type, isn't one to have moments of weakness and look for comfort at the bottom of a glass. Yoongi isn't the type to get drunk and be hit with an overwhelming need to call you up late at night to tell you that he's thinking about you. It's only you that wishes for him to go through the motions the same way you do.

You wish you weren't so easy to let go of.

You wish he loved you more than you loved him.

You wish you weren't meant to always be just second best.

Too bad there isn't a shooting star.

There's not a lot to be done whenever you get like this. This being falling down the rabbit hole of missing Yoongi until he's all you can think about. You just have to wait for the feeling to pass, maybe cry a little, fight the twitch in your fingers when they threaten to take your phone hostage and text him, repeat the process a couple of weeks later.

Disappointment follows you out of the car when you arrive at your building. It walks up four flights of stairs with you, then down the hallway. You expect it to wait patiently next to you as you fetch your keys and welcome it into your home like you always do.

But when you reach your door, you notice that disappointment is nowhere to be found. That it suddenly vanished into thin air, leaving no trace behind at all.

Instead, you find Yoongi, who sits on the floor in front of your home.

Yoongi, whose eyes light up when he hears your familiar footsteps and looks up at you standing right before him. Yoongi, who scrambles to his feet instantaneously, a little clumsy in his movement.

Yoongi, who has a slight flush on his face, painting his cheeks rosy as if he's been drinking. Yoongi, whose pupils still dilate as he takes in the sight of you.

Yoongi, who is usually confident and callous, but is now speaking in a timid tone that you suspect would be similar to yours if you ever call to tell him you miss him.

"Hi."

all rights reserved © jeonqkooks. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 21.08.2023]

[liaromancewriter]

Stardust

Premise: Ethan and Cassie’s skating date plans go awry, but all hope is not lost.

Fandom: Open Heart/Choices Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Cassie Valentine) Rating/Category: Teen. Fluff. Words: 1,965 Day/Prompt: @12daysofchristmas Day 9 - “I like it out here. It’s peaceful.”

A/N: For @choicesholidays "Best Christmas Ever" prompt, @choicesprompts Holiday rewrite event: inspired by Virgin River's S5 Christmas special where Mel and Jack celebrate their first Christmas and make their own holiday traditions, including the ice skating scene. Also submitting to @choicesdecember2023 prompt "Christmas" and @choicesficwriterscreations Holiday event.

I'm using @choicesflashfics week 64, prompt 1 (in bold), and fluffy dialogue prompt 1 from Second Day of Gift-Giving by @creativepromptsforwriting. Tagging for reblog to @creativepromptfills.

Growing up in New England meant ice skating. One of Ethan Ramsey’s earliest memories was holding his father’s hand as they stepped onto an outdoor ice rink. Light snow fell around them like stardust, and he tilted his head back to catch a snowflake on his tongue.

His father taught him how to skate that night, gripping Ethan’s hand lightly and encouraging him to lean forward and alternately stroke and glide on the ice, letting the blades do the work.

He remembered his father’s deep laughter and his mother’s cheers from the sidelines as he let go of the hand keeping him tethered. Feeling the wind on his face and watching colors blur from the festive lights strung up around the rink, everything in little Ethan’s world was perfect at that moment.

Many years later, Ethan still loved to skate but didn’t have as much time for it. As head of diagnostics at Boston’s Edenbrook Hospital, his duties kept him much too busy. But something about the holidays made him nostalgic for simpler times.

“Earth to Ethan. Anyone there?” Cassie Valentine snapped her fingers in front of his face.

Ethan shook his head to clear the memories clouding his thoughts. “Sorry, I was miles away. What were we talking about?”

“Okay, that was some trip,” Cassie commented, giving him a strange look above the rim of her wine glass. “Holiday traditions from our childhood. You were telling me about skating with your parents, remember?”

“Oh, right,” Ethan said, feeling his face flush.

For a moment, he’d forgotten where he was. He glanced around his apartment and the holiday decorations they’d put up a few days ago, scratching the back of his head as he tried to collect his composure.

A Christmas tree stood in the corner against the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the bay — the first one they bought and decorated together — tinsel and fairy lights winking against the dark. Presents had found their way underneath the tree at regular intervals in the last couple of weeks.

This was their first holiday together, technically second as a couple, but he’d been in Providence last year, and she’d been working. Somehow, without realizing it, he found himself in a relationship that was more serious than anything he’d ever had before.

What else would you call meeting each other’s families and planning together what presents to buy for their respective relatives?

“Do you still skate, or is that in the past?” Cassie mused, her legs curled up beneath her on the couch.

“Not as much as I’d like,” Ethan confessed, picking up the near-empty wine bottle to top up their glasses. “A few years ago, a bunch of us started getting together in the community center rink for ice hockey. Nothing formal, just pick up games to blow off steam.”

“Why am I only finding out about this now?” she said, somewhat disgruntled. “We’ve known each other for almost three years!”

Ethan rolled his eyes at her dramatic response. “Because I have other, more pleasurable things to say and do when you’re around. Besides, I had Naveen’s condition to occupy my mind that first year, and then my mother’s return and addiction last year. This is the first normal holiday season for both of us.”

“You have a point,” Cassie conceded with a regal nod before twisting in her seat to regard him thoughtfully. “I bet you’re a goalie. You’ve got the build for it.”

“You’d lose that bet.” Ethan raised an eyebrow in amusement. “I play center.”

She harrumphed and then tapped her index finger against her lips. “Remember how we talked about making our own holiday traditions when we decorated the tree last week? Let’s add skating to the list. The Boston Common Frog Pond rink is open for the season, and it always looks fun when I go running past it.”

“I’ve been, and it is fun,” Ethan said. “How about Friday? You’re working a double before that, so should be post-call, right?”

“It’s a date,” Cassie smiled, intertwining her fingers with his and nestling against him. “This is going to be the best Christmas season ever!”

When Friday came, Ethan was run off his feet. Herb, one of his oldest patients, had been admitted with an unknown infection. He spent the entire day running tests, frustrated when the results didn’t reveal anything useful.

Deciding to return to the beginning, he sat behind his desk, switched on the monitor and pulled up Herb’s medical history. He wasn’t leaving here until he figured this out.

“You’re still working?”

Ethan looked up at the intrusion, eyes unfocused, the screen’s glare reflecting off his reading glasses. Cassie stood inside the sliding glass doors, wearing a pink long-sleeved sweater beneath a puffy white vest and black jeans. A knitted cap with white and pink stripes sat atop her long blonde hair.

He wondered whether she coordinated her outfits or if it was an innate style. Maybe even both.

He noted the small duffel bag in her hand and cursed internally. He’d utterly forgotten their skating date, and judging by Cassie’s amused expression, she knew it, too.

“You’re important to me. And I want you to know that,” Ethan said, coming around from behind the desk to stand before her. He took her hand in his.

“I do know that, but thank you for telling me,” Cassie chuckled, lightly swinging their clasped hands before letting go. “What’s going on?”

Ethan quickly explained the situation, running frustrated fingers through his hair, his inability to solve the case coming through in the irritated tone of his voice. Before he knew it, he started brainstorming Herb’s condition with her, pulling up test results and walking her through his thought process.

Herb wasn’t the diagnostic team’s patient, but it helped to have someone he trusted from the team working with him.

“Could be GI. Have you considered….”

“…barium follow through?” he said, reading her thoughts as perfectly as she could his. He frowned as he tried to connect the dots to the other symptoms.

“I thought I saw something in his chart,” she said, nudging him out of the chair to take control of his keyboard, her eyes scanning the electronic medical records. “Aha, there it is. Small bowel obstruction, managed through a steroid protocol, so no biopsy was done to rule out Crohn’s or colitis.”

“Good catch,” Ethan said, reading over her shoulder. “I’ll put in orders for a barium test tomorrow. Nothing more we can do today.”

Her light floral scent drifted into his nostrils, and he sighed in disappointment. Date nights were already hard to organize with their erratic schedules. He couldn’t help but feel he’d wasted this one.

He turned the office chair around, placed his hands on either side of her and leaned in. “I’m sorry, Cassie. I not only messed up our plans tonight, but I pulled you into this after you’d already worked a double shift. I heard about the clusterfuck that was last night.”

“That would be an apt word to describe it,” she murmured. “Not sure how I got home this morning, but at least it was quiet in the apartment with everyone else on shift.”

“Still, tonight was supposed to be the start of another holiday tradition for us,” he insisted.

For the first time in forever, he resented work coming in the way of his personal life.

Cassie framed his face between her hands. “I’m here with you. I’m right where I belong. Doing what I’m good at with the man I love and one who taught me that patients come first.”

Ethan closed the distance between them, his lips capturing hers in a slow, sweet kiss, thanking her for understanding with the promise of more to come. Cassie locked her hands behind his neck, and he tugged her out of the chair, reversing their positions without breaking the kiss.

They slowly drifted apart, foreheads touching. Cassie smiled softly, her fingers trailing down the side of his face. “Raincheck on our date?

Ethan checked his wristwatch and noted it was almost half past eight. Where had the last few hours gone?

“We could try to get to the Commons before the rink closes at nine,” he offered, mentally calculating the distance, traffic and parking situation.

“It’s okay,” Cassie said, getting off his lap and stretching her arms upward. “Another night. Besides, we’re doctors. Disrupted plans are par the course.”

“There are other rinks in Boston,” Ethan said, standing beside her. “Let me google what’s open. Tonight doesn’t have to be a total loss.”

“Actually,” Cassie said, taking her phone out and unlocking it. “Rafael’s old neighborhood has a small rink that’s open all night. He invited the Roomies there last year. It’s no Frog Pond, but it was nice. Let me text him.”

While she did that, Ethan tidied up his desk, closed out files and powered down his computer.

“Yes!” Cassie pumped one fist in the air. “It’s still around, and Raf is sending directions.”

An hour or so later, after stopping by his place to change and pick up skates, Ethan parked in the lot on the other side of the community park from where the rink was located. They walked hand in hand down the walkway, the soft glow of street lamps a welcome relief against the shadows around them.

The rink was small, as advertised, and empty, given the lateness of the hour. And yet Ethan liked it all the more for its relative privacy versus other public rinks.

“I like it out here. It’s peaceful,” Ethan commented as they sat on a bench and strapped on their skates.

“It’s popular with local families, so it can get busy early in the day,” Cassie explained, her voice muffled as she bent down to tighten her laces.

Ethan flicked the light switch, the red and green lights bright against the darkness. He stepped onto the rink, gliding effortlessly on the ice, feeling the familiar rush of wind rushing against his face.

“Whoops,” Cassie giggled behind him.

“Are you okay?” he asked, looking back to see her arms flailing before she caught her balance.

“I’m good,” she said, carefully holding herself still.

He laughed as recognition hit. For all Cassie’s bravado, she was not as comfortable on skates as she pretended to be.

“You think it’s funny?” She lifted her chin mulishly, spreading her legs wide and turning her skated feet inward.

“Yeah, I do,” Ethan smirked, skating in a loop around her.

He took her hand as she continued to struggle and wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. “Because I finally found something that Cassie Valentine isn’t good at.”

He grinned as Cassie pretended to be offended. She started to push against his arms, but her skates slipped, and she clung to him like a barnacle. Within seconds, they were both laughing at the absurdity of the situation.

“You figured me out,” she confessed, tears leaking from the corner of her eyes as she swallowed back her laughter.

She placed her gloved hands on his upper arms, her green eyes sparkling as they gazed into his. “I suck at skating. No matter how much I try, I will never be more than passable.”

Ethan brushed his hands down her arms and folded her hands in his. “Then it’s a good thing you have me to hold on to.”

He lowered his face as Cassie stretched on her toes, and their lips met in a kiss that chased the cold away. They looked up as snowflakes started to fall from the sky, sprinkling over them like stardust.

And under a starry, magical night with snow falling around them, Ethan looped Cassie’s arm through his and skated them expertly around the rink, making another holiday tradition just for them.

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

All Fics & Edits: @bluebelle08 @coffeeheartaddict2 @crazy-loca-blog @genevievemd @headoverheelsforramsey @lucy-268 @jamespotterthefirst @jerzwriter @lady-calypso @mainstreetreader @peonierose @potionsprefect @queencarb @quixoticdreamer16 @rookiemartin @socalwriterbee @tessa-liam @trappedinfanfiction

Submissions: @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics @debbiechanclub

Ethan & Cassie only: @cariantha @custaroonie @youlookappropriate @zealouscanonindeer

[ghosttownwherenoonegoes]

I’m writing Eddie a letter under the cut. All my thoughts, raw and open. This is fine to reblog, comment on etc., I don’t mind. I discuss stress, depression, anxiety, medication for the aforementioned, self-shipping with Eddie. Just a creative vent exercise, really.

I just really need to talk to Eddie right now.💔

Hey, Eddie.

Long time no speak, huh? I know, I know. I’ve been busy, I guess. Well, no, I have been busy, but I’ve been downplaying my own emotions to myself for this whole time because hiding is much easier when there’s still so much left to do. I can’t help feeling that I don’t have time even to write this to you, curled up as I am in bed watching horror films before I go to sleep, and I feel like I should be studying. I feel like… if I’m not constantly studying to complete this final assignment of the year, then I’m letting you and everyone else down. But more than that, if I’m not always doing something between uni and work, then I’m only proving my most familiar thoughts right. That all I am is just… wasted potential. And I’ll never amount to ‘anything’ anyway, so why bother trying? But.. I won’t ever know if I’ll make it to becoming a neuropsychologist if I don’t try.

That’s what scares me though, trying… or, trying to try.

It feels like… all I ever do is try to try, but I never feel like I’ve tried hard enough. I could always study more, I could always work more shifts, I could always do this thing or that thing… I never feel like I’ve done enough, no matter how hard I try. And, Eddie, my sweet angel baby, I am exhausted trying to live up to my own expectations. If I can’t even meet my own expectations, then how could I ever be enough for someone else? How could I ever be enough for you, or your beloved Uncle Wayne?

I’m really, really tired, Eddie.

Sleep won’t touch this tired, it’s in my bones, it’s in the way it takes well over an hour to get out of bed most mornings (not including my Eddie hour every morning, that’s the one thing I won’t let myself take away from me, nor my night hour with you. That’s mine, too), it’s in the way I choose work or studying over myself and then get mad at myself for it later. It’s in the way I don’t even really have the energy to write this letter because these thoughts are so familiar to me that it feels like writing this letter to you is pointless - you’re reading this for the first time, but for me, these thoughts have echoed in my head for years. So what’s the point in writing this letter? But that’s why I’m doing it - to me, these thoughts are almost friends despite how much they hurt me, but to you, this might be new to you, so maybe you can learn about me a little more, if you wanted to. I know I shut you out a lot of the time, I tell you and your Uncle that I’m fine when I’m not.

But that’s also because I’m scared, Eddie. I go through life absolutely terrified, of everything and everyone, all the time always, even on the medication I was given a few weeks ago for my newly diagnosed anxiety and depression, and if I tell you even half of what goes through my head on a daily basis, then that means it matters, and if it matters…. Then, Eddie, it’s gonna hurt. And if I fully let myself feel how much it hurts, then… I’m not sure I’d be able to coax myself out of bed at all. So I hide it from others as best as I can, and I hide it from myself, too. I acknowledge to myself when I’m hurting and I let myself feel those emotions as they come, I never hide from my feelings, necessarily, but I also don’t let myself feel the full extent of them. If I do, I’ll stop dead in my tracks and I’m not sure I’d have it in me to take another step. So I keep stepping. I keep trying.

Most importantly, I keep you near me, Eddie.

You make me cry when I’m trying my best not to because there isn’t any time to do so. You make me smile and laugh when it feels like I’d forgotten how to. You make me remember the person I want to be… I never found you in high school, sweet angel baby, so I’ve been working on becoming someone you would be proud of. If I can’t find you for myself, then I’ll become someone like you for other people, to the best of my ability.

So… as I write this, I imagine that you’re curled up beside me on the bed watching this horror film with me. I’m wearing my Munson Motivation Outfit and your head is on my shoulder, your dark curls spilling into my braids, your head a comforting and familiar weight on my shoulder. Your hand splayed across my thigh… you’re totally nuzzled into me, and I into you. We’re making comments to each other as we watch but otherwise, we’re more interested in soaking up time with each other as much as possible. I so rarely get more than an hour at a time with you. I have to fight myself for that time, and I never don’t feel guilty for it. I would love to say all of this to your face, but this is the best I have.

As I write this, the last assignment of the year is due next week and I’m… scared. Eddie, I’m scared. And I don’t have time to be. The more I get scared, the more I freeze up, and the more I freeze up, the less time I have to do the actual assignment. This one is 40% of this year’s grade with no retakes, no second tries, no extension. It’s stone fucking cold and I’ve frozen up before I even get started. I have a week until it’s due, so there’s still time for me. My body is reflecting my chronic stress… I’ve got my littlest toe sick with paronychia, which is taking a while to clear. You and Uncle Wayne have been so good at reminding me to take my medication once a day and my antibiotics multiple times a day. I really appreciate you stroking my throat every time to help the tablet go down…no matter how many I take, I can never swallow immediately because I’m scared to choke. I’m out of work until my toe heals and that means more assignment time but I’m also on my period so I’m sore everywhere and I’m adjusting to new meds so I can’t focus well and I don’t think they’re working and god, Eddie… I’m trying so hard to deal with everything happening all at once but I’m tired, I’m tired and I don’t know what to do and I know I’m right at the finish line, I do, but I wish I was already there so I could rest. But I’m not, so I can’t. But all the bodily stuff and the new meds and the most important assignment of the year all happening at once…. I want to throw a tantrum in your name, Eddie. Just once… please? I’ll make it a tantrum worthy of you, I promise.

Only I can get me there so I’ll have to find a bit more fight in me yet… if only because I know you would want me to. So would our most beloved and bestest dad, Uncle Wayne. I can never say no to the Munsons. I just wish I wasn’t so scared all the time, Eddie. And I wish you were here so I could hold your hand, look into your chocolate buttons and see you looking back… you’re so beautiful. I wish I was as brave as you, Eddie, I really do. Maybe things would be easier if I was a little more like you. I love you so much. And I miss you. Everything in me tells me you’d never be proud, only disappointed, but no one could ever be more disappointed in me than me. So it’s okay if you are, Eddie, I get it. I’m disappointed in me, too.

With all my love, you silly, brave man,

Eri.

[cross-crye]

𝔯𝔢𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔦𝔰𝔠𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔢

a little fic i wrote in order to motivate myself to get out of my months-long writing slump; i had to delete the og post bcs it didn't show up in the tags for some reason and i didn't know how to fix it, i've already reposted this multiple times and if it STILL doesn't show up in the tags i'll give up

~ it had always seemed impossible to return home after arriving in twisted wonderland, but now that you had, you'd end up surprised at how much you missed it.

wc: 0.6k

somewhat angsty

written in 1st person

no pairing but the following characters are mentioned: ace; deuce; floyd; jade; ruggie; leona; malleus

One of the numerous disadvantages of going to a boarding school (in a different universe) is having a lot more cleaning to do upon returning home than I usually would. This would be the fifth time I’ve been ‘spring cleaning’ since coming back from twisted wonderland. It was cold and damp in the attic, and the cramped space made me uncomfortable, but cleaning this place was unavoidable

I managed to build up enough courage to make myself get started on the imposing stack of boxes, deciding to start from the back. So I made my way to the bay window while carrying an old box. I took a seat on the soft, deep red velvet cushions, leaning against the window, putting the box in my lap and slowly taking off the lid. Only upon seeing the old and raggedy striped tie did I realize just what was in that box.

It was a box of trinkets from NRC, and although I’d forgotten just what was in the box, I already knew it wasn’t stuff I wanted to see at the moment. I forced myself to overcome my reluctance, taking the tie and setting it aside, digging through the box only to discover that my apprehension was justified. The first thing I laid my hands on was an old photo from my first year there with my fellow freshmen. I barely even got to properly gaze at the picture before my sight was clouded by tears I was unwilling to shed.

I’d have forgotten just how much I missed that place, how I wished I could hang out with my friends one last time. I held on tightly to the small photograph, my tears further damaging the already creased and dirty edges. My own smiling face was gazing back at me as I was overcome with misery, regret and longing. Seeing Ace grin as he gave and unaware Deuce bunny ears as a joke could only make me smile through my tears, melancholy’s grip on me only increasing. I couldn’t put the picture down, continuing to stare at it unblinkingly and reminiscing about the good old days. I recalled fondly, through drying tears, about all the times Floyd showed off at P.E. and all my hallway chats with Jade. All the times I'd help Ruggie find out where Leona was skiping class. The nightly walks around the school's forest with Malleus and all the other small moments I'd come to cherish much more now that I couldn't live them again. I had taken my friends for granted, and as I reminisced about them I could only regret that, but I also couldn't help but miss NRC even more.

Sometimes I’d doubt my own past decisions, and I could only conclude with a heavy heart that this was another of those times. Because I know that no matter how much I might miss NRC, and how much I regret leaving, it was the best choice I could've made in that situation. I was never meant to be part of twisted wonderland, and I'd have to come to accept that, regardless of how much I hadn't wanted to. Spring cleaning would be put on hold for the rest of the evening as I wallowed in misery besides my window. It started to rain unexpectedly, almost as if nature wished to weep together with me in remembrance of all we’d once held dear and lost.

cross-crye © 2023.

no reposting, stealing, copying or translating my works.

reblogs, comments and likes are all highly appreciated

[here2bbtstrash]

✨ announcement: the trash library is OPEN! ✨

hi babes!!! exciting news for you today - we are TRYING A THING!!!

for a little context, this idea came about because i’ve deeply enjoyed getting introduced to some amazing new authors since i’ve started up my fic rec fridays this year! in addition, i get so very excited whenever someone shares something they wrote with me, whether it’s via a tag or a DM. i know firsthand how much vulnerability it takes to share something you've written, so it means the world, genuinely!!! i love getting to read and share y'all's works in this little community 🥺

but! as a person with wicked adhd, i have a hard time keeping up with sent fics when they’re all over the place- buried in my notes, forgotten about in my likes, conversed over in DMs. and then i never read them and feel bad, lol. so i thought we could try a new system!!

all this is to say: i now officially have a tracked tag!! that's right, we are building ourselves a #trashlibrary y’all!! ~party party yeah~ 🥳

join me under the cut for allllll the fun details!! 📚

what is a tracked tag? 📖 it’s just a regular ol' hashtag that you can add to a post (the same way you’d tag #bts fanfic or #jungkook x reader or anything else!) - but this is one i am personally following! that means i'll see everything in the tag and it'll make it much easier for me to keep track of it all, so that i can read all your delicious writing!

so how does this work? 📖 as far as i understand this magical mystical website, you’ll have to stick the #trashlibrary tag on any new post in order for it to show up in the tag. new posts only, unfortunately; editing or reblogging an old post and adding the tag on it won’t work. BUT! if you’ve got a brand new fic to post and you’d like for me to check it out, you can slap that baby at the end of your tags and officially add it to the trash library!!! it will need to be within the first 20 tags in order to actually show up in tumblr search, so pls keep that in mind! 🧐

what should go in the #trashlibrary tag? 📖 i’d like to keep it to written fanfiction specifically about bts, but other than those basic parameters, the world is your oyster! to make things easy, here’s a shortlist of stuff i enjoy in fics - if you write anything featuring ANY of the following, i would LOVE to see it show up in the trash library (but feel free to stick other stuff in there too!):

any member x reader (does my jihope preference need to be explicitly stated at this point 🤣), any combinations of member x member, ANYTHING with queer characters/themes or a diverse reader, POLYAMORY, group sex, HEALTHY kink (well-communicated & safe), unlikeable/flawed/complex characters, role play 🤤, ORAL!!!!!, dom/sub dynamics (preferably soft 🥺), overstim, SEX TOYS, ……cheating 🙈, drug use, sex work, anal play/pegging, experimental sex (trying something for the first time), unlearning shame around the human body and pleasure, forced proximity, hatefucking 😬, darker/more mature themes, semi-public sex, characters that are both horny for and enamored with one another lmao

i do also enjoy myself some tooth-rotting fluff or heartbreaking angst, i’m just less specific about my preferences there 😂 tagged works can be as short as a drabble or as long as you like, and literally ANYONE can use this tag - doesn't matter if it's your first fic or your hundredth, doesn't matter if we're besties or if we've never even so much as talked thru reblogs lmao. i’m up for it all!

will you read and review everything in the tag? 📖 i want to make sure this is explicitly clear from the jump. using this tag is the best way to ensure that i read and possibly review your work, but it is not a guarantee or promise that i will do either. not every fic is for me (WHICH IS FINE AND GOOD ACTUALLY, otherwise the world would be full of nothing but yucky porn 😂) and in addition: i’m just one person, with a whole-ass life, you know?

i will do my absolute best to keep up with this tag, and i'm very excited about it! but i kind of have no idea how much use it will see, and i may very well not be able to get to it all. what i can tell you is that i am much much much more likely to see your stuff if it’s in this tag, vs. lost in some other place that i have already forgotten about because i have 3 brain cells and 0 object permanence lmao.

by using this tag, you are telling me that you have read and understood this disclaimer, and that you can handle your emotions like a grown adult if i miss your fic, or even if it just takes me a while to get to it 💜

okay that's it! 🥺 i hope y'all are pumped - i know i'm excited to see what kind of goodies our library fills up with!!! see you in the stacks 😉

[unorcadox]

2 years of unorcadox.

hey hi welcome all -- hello especially to my trans and nonbinary followers, hope we’re all doing well ^_^  today’s the blog’s birthday!!  as of this post going live, assuming tumblr actually does its job, it will have been 2 years since uo’s first post!  i wanna just talk about the blog a little because i haven’t talked on here much as of late.

however, before that, i want to just say that i’d like to eventually start releasing video edits to accompany certain edits!  i have no idea when this’ll get sorted, but i’m gonna try to get it ready by the turn of the year, so keep an eye out for that!  these will mostly just be a single edit with accompanying audio on them, but who knows.  maybe i’ll do something more?

in case you choose to not read the stuff below the read more, i just want to say thank you to everyone for supporting the blog over the years, and for continuing to do so!  anyways, onto the actual post:

first of all, thank you all SO much for 9000 followers!!  it’s over 9000 wow!!  ok but seriously, when i first started this blog, i didn’t expect anyone to ever see it.  i know it’s a cliche thing to say but i told no one i was making it, i didn’t network to other blogs, i just made a really shitty edit and slapped it up on here, and somehow i got lucky.  i’ve made over 800 edits as of today’s post, and that’s just the ones i’ve posted!  fun fact, if i’d never mass-posted my backlog in august, i would’ve ran out literally days ago.  that’s how much content i try to stay ahead on.

second of all, i kinda wanna take a moment to say that i’m sorry about the lack of requests being fulfilled -- both recently and in the past.  i edit in batches, and prioritize content i need for scheduling purposes, but sometimes requests get kinda forgotten in the shuffle, or i don’t really have much in the way of ideas for it, so i shelve it and hope i can come back to it later... which i very rarely do.  😔  going to try and catch up on a couple of ones i have and feel free to send in more!  i know i don’t really interact as much on here as i probably should, but i love getting asks and requests and i read the notes on my posts frequently so.  thank you for being there!

third of all, the future of the blog.  so, i want to make this clear now -- uo’s not going anywhere!  i don’t intend on changing the blog at all, if anything i’d want to add onto it.  i post 3 times a day now currently, with intermittent unplanned posts at off-times, mostly reblogs of others’ edits.  however, weirdcore is probably not forever and i am kinda thinking about where this blog could go in the future.  i’ve considered opening a redbubble, ko-fi or patreon, as a way to support myself financially (i take virtually every photo used on this blog, and use very little outside content esp. in these newer edits) but i am uncertain about it.  i could also try branching out my image editing into other styles or something, but idk what!  what would you guys like to see?  i’ve considered actually talking on the blog more, transitioning to having text posts be a major part of the blog, but i’m not quite sure about how they’d be received.  let me know if you want to see anything on here!  --  relatedly since we’re mentioning blogs, check out @dreamlink3d as i’m still working on it :)

one last thing actually, for those who choose to read the read more, enjoy the secret -- before i had to go on hiatus in august, i was working on trying to attach songs to specific uo edits, for a compilation album of some kind.  i ended up running them through a site that just attaches audio to an uploaded images in ...ways i don’t understand, BUT the end results were so fun, i edited and compiled them into 2 “albums”!  i don’t consider them my own work as i didn’t make the audio, and they won’t be used in the upcoming stuff, but you can listen to them here [1] and here [2] !  click on a song title to see its associated edit btw!

i know i said the last thing was the last but i just remembered actually, i want to say like.  it’s weird being one of the “first” weirdcore blogs to really hit its stride, and one of the only from that time to still be around and actively posting.  cahwwcabh is deactivated and they were a huge influence on me and wc as a whole, sanfor has deactivated, shwenthe/hazy/dragon/hauntedearth/a lot more tbh have more or less gone inactive, godenteredmybody and pirate-flavor still post intermittently, and most of the active blogs now are a newer set that i didn’t ever meet in my time in weirdcord.  it’s weird but cool in a way!  i really like the newer set of editors tbh, and i hope that me supporting them encourages people to check them out.  in general this whole section is meaningless but idk i felt like vocalizing it.  it’s a weird feeling watching all your peers more or less move on while you stay behind and see a new wave of artists take their place more or less.  anyways, i just hope that my edits still bring happiness and meaning to the people who see them :)

ok NOW i’m done.  sorry for the wall LMAO i just felt like actually saying something for once on here.  btw i’ve been doing a lot better since i got back from hiatus, i hope you (yes you, the reader of this post) are doing well too -- i know this blog tends to lean heavily on negative emotions, and as such it kinda attracts people who are troubled -- so i feel like i gotta check in every once in a while LMAO.  i hope life is being kind to you, thank you so much, and have a lovely day <3.

[laterinthenight]

tag 9 people you want to get to know better. I was tagged by the wonderful @moonlitramblings 🥰

currently reading: I’m on a reread of Watership Down by Richard Adams, one of my favorite books of all time. I usually make sure to reread it once a year at least. Also Renegade Love by Ann Aguirre - love me an alien romance 😩👌

last song: La Devoción Se Hizo Carne by Carlos Viola, from the Blasphemous 2 soundtrack. Truly every song is an absolute banger; my favorite is Cante Desde Lo Profundo, because that fight is so fucking good. On a lighter note (😏) I’ve also been listening to Forklift Simulator by Sbassbear, which is unreasonably catchy

currently watching: Just finished watching Predator (1987) for the first time in years... it came up in discussion with some friends a couple days ago, and I’d forgotten how nuts the movie is amongst all the memes. Besides that, I’m in the middle of Season 2 of The Golden Girls (whiplash 😂) and a rewatch of Outlaw Star

current fic - reading: Nothing’s Wrong with Dale by @moonshine-nightlight (👀👀👀👀👀👀) (Original Work) I cannot overstate how absolutely feral I am for this fic, holy shit Sundays are marked on my calendar; An Unexpected Muse by WickedScribbles (AO3) (Red Dead Redemption 2) a truly lovely modern!AU of Arthur attending the Reader’s Intro to Drawing class in college and them hitting it off; The ThirtySix Stratagems of Wáng Jìngzé by Mussimm (AO3) (Mass Effect 2) Right after the release of Mass Effect 2, long before ME3 was on the horizon, this author conceptualized an Epic that to this day remains one of my all-time favorites, about how the Reaper War could manifest and be won

current fic - writing: I don’t write much these days (not much energy at the moment) but I’ve got a couple ideas circulating, with my OCs in a low-fantasy historical post-war thing. Very comfort, very slice-of-life, very smutty just a little something to make me happy when I need it

next on my watchlist: Tombstone (1993); The Shape of Water (been putting it off because my vibes have been off)

current obsession: Nothing’s Wrong with Dale (cough 👀👀👀), Red Dead Redemption 2 (Arthur Morgan), Our Life: Beginnings and Always (Cove Holden our beloved), Shepherds of Haven by @shepherds-of-haven , The Golden Rose by @anathemafiction

I’m not great at direct tagging because I mostly just sit to the side an quietly reblog things lol, but anybody who wants to can consider yourself tagged, if you’re interested! It’s always fun to see what people are into 💞

And thanks again for the tag @moonlitramblings ! I’m so excited for when Don’t Shoot the Messenger publishes - you craft such wonderful stories that speak to me as a demi, with actual time taken to make the emotional connection between characters plus the way you write the 🔥 scenes is god-tier 😩👌 Please take care of yourself, and I look forward to everything you create!

[ice-connoisseur]

but there are much worse games to play

I’ve just re-read the Hunger Games for the first time in maybe fifteen years, and (mainly thanks to whoever has been reblogging Haymitch-and-Peeta gifs recently.  Was it @nire-the-mithridatist?  I feel like it was @nire-the-mithridatist) and maaan had I forgotten how heavy it gets.  I think in my head I’d equated it with Twilight and boy oh boy do I owe Suzanne Collins some apologies. 

Apparently my way of processing this was to spend the afternoon writing the first 1.2k of a GoT AU, because my default for writing anything these days appears to be a GoT AU, but anyway.  Not sure if there’ll be any more of this but I wanted to record the un-beta’d, unedited stream of thought that exists so far. 

Brienne Tarth wins the 59th Hunger Games and no one can work out what in hell to do with her afterwards.  Watching the confused consternation of the gamemakers is the most fun Jaime’s had in years.  He assumes they’ll never hear from her again; a tragic accident, perhaps, or maybe she’ll be one of the lucky ones, allowed to retreat to a quiet life of solitude and deep psychological trauma.  She’d certainly made no effort to hide her distain and derision for King’s Landing and everything it stood for, but she was ugly and awkward and a truly terrible public speaker; little risk, even uncontained.  She has no obvious pressure points, her only family an elderly father so plagued by ill-health that his imminent death is too much of an inevitability to ever be a threat, but it’s not really a surprise when no one seems to think it worth the admittedly considerable effort that would be required to kill her.

Jaime meets her just once, on the last night of her Victory Tour, the Red Keep lit up for the Victor’s Ball; she looks more uncomfortable and unsure in the middle of Kings Landing than she did at any point throughout the two and a half weeks she spent in the arena, and when they’re introduced she blushes an impressive shade of red and can’t lift her eyes higher than Jaime’s shoulder.  Jaime laughs; he can’t help it, it’s just so ridiculous, that this creature should be this year’s glorious victor.  It shows the Games for the farce that they are and there is nothing Jaime loves more.  She somehow flushes even more at his laugh but it does at last make her lift her eyes properly to stare at him directly.  They’re bluer than the seas around Casterly Rock, and filled with contempt.  

Neither of them speak and then Renly Baratheon is there, shouldering in to claim her for a dance because the idiot will do anything to draw attention, and Jaime assumes that’s it.  Sure enough she’s packed off back to Tarth the next morning, and Jaime doesn’t really think of her again until a year later when the lunatic actually comes back.  

Most of the mentors are based in the capital, tied there through threat or lack of options or, in a few, select, cases, actual desire to be there.  The ones who manage to leave intact are never stupid enough to risk returning.  Except Brienne Tarth does.  She doesn’t need to, the Stormlands aren’t frequent victors but they’ve had enough over the years to have a small pool of mentors to call upon, but she’s there. Every year for fourteen years, looming behind whatever pair of unfortunates have been picked out this time, and she’s terrible at it, she must be, she’s got no charisma, no charm, no guile. Whatever schmoozing needs doing, to gather the Stormlands tributes their favours and sponsorships, falls solely on Davos Seaworthy’s shoulders.  By the time the tributes are in the arena she has nothing to offer them, and it takes Jaime a few years to realise that by then she’s already given them everything she can.

In fourteen years the Stormlands only has one victor; in more than one year neither tribute lives past the initial bloodbath.  And yet Tarth stays in the Mentor’s viewing room, day in day out, from the first morning to whenever the final victor is plucked from the field.  Jaime’s not always there, he has his own tributes to watch out for, palms to grease and sponsors to sweettalk, but after the first couple of years he stops being surprised by her presence, whenever he returns.  She’s never friendly, sometimes she’s downright hostile, but she’s somehow easier company than the rest of the mentors, and it makes the whole thing one tiny iota more bearable, watching whatever atrocities are unfolding on screen with her arm pressed warm against his.  He has no idea what she does or where she goes for the rest of the time, but for two, three weeks a year she becomes the best friend he has.  

Her only victor is a scrawny 15-year-old who wins more by default than any significant skill on his part, when the main pack are taken out simultaneously by an earthquake and the remainder mostly pick each other off until there’s just Podrick Payne and Mandon Moore, a hulking brute from the Vale, left.  Jaime has to watch the replay four times before he fully understood what had happened; Moore’s mace, crashing into the ground where Pod had lay moment’s earlier, the sword the smaller boy had pulled from Moore’s own scabbard and plunged up through his ribs.  Jaime’s watched Brienne Tarth through eleven games by this point, not including her own, has watched her watch twenty-one of the children she’s escorted to King’s Landing fall in the arena in twenty-one different, equally horrible ways.  The moment the twenty-second grips on to the ladder up to the hovercraft is the only time he ever sees her cry.  

Three years later, Robb Stark and Talisa Maegyr are reaped for the North.  There’s murmurings, of course, but it’s not the first time a prominent family has contributed to the Games, and Jaime is rolled out once more as living proof of just how true that is.  It won’t be an accident, of course, Robb’s inclusion the year after his father’s fall from grace, but no one, not even Brienne Tarth, is stupid enough to say so out loud.  It’s a typical Tywin Lannister move, masterful and pointed and shrouded in plausible deniability, and it backfires magnificently.  

Jaime doesn’t buy the love story the two teenagers weave, not for one second, but he can’t deny they do a very good job of selling the lie.  King’s Landing is entranced; Tywin is furious.  When Robb Stark reaches into his belt and pulls out the little handful of berries Jaime can practically hear the vein’s popping in his father’s forehead from a whole building away.  It’s a tactical masterstroke.  And all across country, from Kings Landing to the Wall, people are suddenly sitting up and paying attention.  And, quietly, carefully, asking questions.

Their death, in a train crash during their victory tour, is not a surprise.   But, Jaime can’t help but think, alone in his room that night, it might have been the biggest mistake Tywin Lannister has ever made.  Alive they were young and beautiful and charismatic, sympathetic and obvious targets for any malcontents to rally to.  Dead they are martyrs, transcending mortality to a higher, untouchable plane.  It’s not open rebellion, not yet, but it’s there, simmering, months of discontent and unrest that occasionally spills over in brief, barely supressed bursts of violence. Jaime spends months travelling from region to region, subduing disquiet and parroting patriotic garbage.  

He's in the Riverlands when the Quarter Quell is announced.

On the 75th anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that even the strongest among them cannot overcome the power of King’s Landing, the male and female tributes will be reaped from their existing pool of victors.  Where there is no living victor the tribute will instead be reaped from their siblings, or, failing that, their descendants.  

The next time he sees Brienne in person she’s four chariots behind him, absurdly tall next to Pod’s stocky frame. Her face is set, expressionless, but when her eyes meet his they are burning with fury. 

[yerawizardloki]

It Doesn’t Smell Like Gommie’s House Anymore

I wrote this poem a little less than a year ago, and it's about my experience with my first time going into my aunt's house since she had been diagnosed with glioblastoma. It was the first poem I wrote to cope with my grief. My aunt was affectionately called Gommie by me and my sister. It’s also important to note that at one point in the poem I say how Gommie is drifting to the right. This is because my aunt’s tumor was on the right side of her brain, and it affected her vision out of her left eye. She compensated for her partial blindness by drifiting right, so she wouldn’t hit anything she couldn’t see. This poem is very centered around normal grief because of my aunt's diagnosis, as well as anticipatory grief because we knew what to expect (avereage survival time after a diagnosis of glioblastoma is 15 months. At this point it had been 5 months).

I had never really written poetry before, so be kind if it's not very good! Please enjoy, and feel free to like, reblog, add notes, and share with friends, family, or therapists! Please do not post my work on any other sites however, unless it is simply a link back to this post. 

It doesn't smell like Gommie's house anymore

I stand behind my cousin As she pushes in the door. 

I’d forgotten how tightly that door sealed How heavy it was for my small frame as a child.

We enter the house. I take a deep breath, like I always have the second we enter.

That smell soothes me. It comforts me. It is always the same, steady and unwavering.

It smells like clean soap. Warm hugs. Chicken nuggets by the pool and cinnamon bread for a bedtime snack.

But…

It doesn’t smell like Gommie’s house anymore.

It smells wrong. But everything is wrong anymore.

I look at the mirror, filled with hats… And stories.

This house is a graveyard of stories.

We move to the garage, to let in my mother and Gommie. Gommie moves slowly. She drifts to the right.

It’s a painful reminder of why we’re at the house. At least the garage still smells the same.

Eventually, we make our way to the dining room.  We go through the hutch, divying up what we want.

Pulling things out, we realize we’ll need boxes. We’ll go to the attic to get those.

We move on to the computer room next, grabbing some photo albums. Then the guest room, then the master. All for photos.

My sister and I, our smiles frozen in time. I find a picture of myself with braces. That picture goes at the bottom of the pile. 

We all laugh, my cousin and I, our mothers.  We think back to happier times, when we weren’t sorting through this graveyard. 

A graveyard of stories. 

There are stories in every room of this house.  Childhood summers spent here, playing with Legos in the computer room. Playing house in the guest room.

We move onto the living room and the kitchen. Gommie sits for a bit, too tired to continue.

I look around the chile pepper filled kitchen. I take photos of the peppers on the wall.

Gommie’s hand painted those. The hand that now shakes, weak from chemo and radiation.

I want those peppers on my skin. I should show them to the tattoo artist. I go back and take a picture of the stained glass door.  That would be a nice tattoo too.

By now we are laden with dishes and photos. Memories. Stories.

We need boxes.

We take the trek to the attic. I stood at the bottom of those stairs as a child. Who knows how many times I’ve run up and down these stairs My sister close behind.

I take a deep breath.

It smells the same up here. This scent, of musty safeness, remains.

Maybe it can protect me from the hell I will be forced to endure. I wish I could live in this attic forever.

I follow my cousin, gathering boxes. We only find three.  We go back downstairs. 

As my mom and cousin pack the dishes I look into the backyard.

That pool. It is the essence of my summers here. Waiting for sunscreen to dry. Eating chicken nuggets at the picnic table. Learning to dive. Learning how much a belly flop hurts. Racing from one end to the other. Getting good enough at swimming to go to the deep end.

I used to drop dive sticks in the deep end.  Once you get to a certain point under the water, it feels like the pressure is crushing you.  You want to go up. It would be so easy to go up. But you have to get that damned dive stick.

That feels like my life now.  Being crushed. Wanting to swim up, back to safety. Where I don’t have a sick aunt. 

But I keep swimming down. Because no matter what, I want that dive stick. I want my aunt safe. Back with me. I won’t leave her in the deep end alone.

I go help with the dishes.

Once they are done, I look around at the chile pepper stuff.  I want some of this for my own house someday.

We pack that up too.

I notice how the knobs on the cabinets have been changed. They no longer have small peppers on them.

Stupid changing knobs. I wish they had stayed the same.

I grab some magnets off the fridge, ones that remind me of my childhood.

We’re almost done now. 

We all go back to the computer room, and start looking at pictures. I see photos of my grandfather that I’ve never seen before.

He’s smiling in them. He looks happy.  Someday, photos will be all I have left of Gommie. 

The battery on her treatment machine starts to die.

It’s time to leave.

Put the ghosts to rest in this graveyard.

We gather up the boxes.

I find espresso cups at the last second.  I have to have them, they’re so damn cute.

As we take the last load out,  I know I’m leaving this house for good. 

I don’t take that one last breath like I always do. The last breath of pool chemicals and sunburns. Sugar and spice. Laughter and love.

Because this house no longer smells like Gommie anymore.

[havethetimeofyourstyles]

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

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

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

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

WARNINGS: mentions of abandonment and blood 

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

pls rb to share! <3

16 August 1990

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You can’t just do that-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hello?” Harry answered. 

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

“What do you want?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure you guys are ready for that?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They headed out of Jamie’s office and to the main floor, walking over to the heavy bags since the section was less crowded to start stretching. Harry rolled his shoulders and neck around, swinging his arms forwards and backward as he looked around the gym. 

This was something he had to get used to—being in a new place, surrounded by new people. At Fight Night, he was around the same people for four years, and he was comfortable — he was fine with it. But now, he had to go through the same process all over again. Nerves and anxiety crept up his skin as he tried to jump around lightly, warming up a bit but also trying to shake off the unwanted feelings. 

“Hey, you okay?” Benny asked concerningly as he stretched. 

Harry’s brows raised, covering up his anxiousness. “Hmm, yeah, I am. Y’know, just a, uh, new place, that’s all,” he brushed him off. 

“Okay. Well, whenever you’re ready to go, just tell me,” Benny told him before going into his bag to grab the wrapping tape. 

Harry nodded, smiling in appreciation. Benny had always been a great friend to him, and Harry was a great friend to Benny as well. They always took each other’s feelings and concerns into consideration—always making sure the other is okay. They both really appreciated it because some friends weren’t lucky enough to talk about their feelings and be that vulnerable with one another. They trusted each other; they were like brothers. 

Harry grabbed his jump rope, deciding to do a little five-minute warm-up to get his heart rate going. He faced the boxing ring to the left of him, noticing that you were in the ring, so he decided to casually watch you box. He then noticed that you had boxing pads on instead of gloves, and the people you were training were the kids that he had seen earlier. 

He watched you instruct the excited kids who were prancing around with their boxing gloves on, in every color imagined. You helped them fix their form, their stance, and their punch; telling them that they had to be quick with their hit to bring their glove back to the side of their face quickly, so their opponent doesn’t have a chance to take a hit. The kids demonstrated for you, punching your right hand that was covered with the pad. You praised all of them, of course, correcting a few things, but overall, everyone was a natural fighter. 

Harry’s heart rate definitely started to pick up, and he didn’t know if it was how fast he was jumping rope or because of the flutter he felt as he watched you interact with the kids. He truly never felt this kind of feeling where his heart picked up from the simple act of looking at someone. 

You had definitely noticed Harry staring at you from your peripheral view, and you had thought it was a simple glance, but he never looked away. So, you took the opportunity to take a quick look at him while the kids were practicing. 

Your eyes met him and you sent him a small smile, along with a wave with your boxing pads. Harry’s eyes widened, realizing that you were waving at him, and what happened next had embarrassed him even more. With how fast he was jumping, he suddenly got tangled with the rope, causing him to trip against it. Luckily, he caught his fall, but he was already embarrassed enough. 

Harry’s heart completely dropped, cheeks flushed. He couldn’t believe he had made a complete fool of himself, especially at his new gym. He so badly wanted to tell Benny that he was ready to leave, but when he looked over at his friend, he had already started his workout, being so focused and in the zone that Harry didn’t want to be a burden. 

When he turned back around to see if you were still looking, he jolted back a bit as you were behind him. 

“Are you okay?” You asked concerningly. 

“Uh, yeah. I…yeah, I’m okay. Thanks.” He cleared his throat, trying to cover up the fact that his voice almost cracked. He was so stunned by you. The way you made sure he was okay was possibly the nicest thing someone had done for him as you looked at him with your sweet eyes, and your posture was giving him your full attention. His heart pounded through his chest; the simple action and effort that was being put into this was making him overwhelmed. 

“Okay. Let me know if you need anything, yeah?” You told him as you looked at him intently. He simply nodded, knowing that he couldn’t process any more words. 

You gave him one last smile before quickly going back to your students. He watched you climb into the ring so effortlessly before continuing your training class. 

Harry took a deep breath before walking over to one of the speed bags that was in the corner, hoping to hide away from the embarrassment that he felt. Wrapping his hands up, he anxiously scanned the room, noticing that everyone was doing their own thing. There was a possibility that no one else had seen him almost fall on his face, except you, which he really wished that it was the entire gym who saw him instead, not you. He lazily hit the speed bag, trying to warm up and shake off his mortification. Harry continued hitting the bag, eventually getting into a rhythm as his fists alternated between one another, along with the rhythm of the music of Montrell Jordan’s ‘This Is How We Do It.’ 

Soon enough, all the worry and stress that was in Harry’s head and body was shaken off and completely forgotten about as he focused on his strong punches, making sure to connect his mind to his muscles, so he could feel his muscles working. 

And for the time being, life wasn’t all that bad. 

A month had passed since being at Don’s Box, and Harry and Benny quite liked it. They had newer equipment and their music was always on point, playing the best of 90s R&B and Hip-Hop. It was their favorite music to listen to, especially while working out. The people there were nice and cool, never getting in each other’s way and letting everyone do their own thing while still having fun, keeping the space safe and comfortable. 

Harry found himself walking into the gym at nine at night, an hour and a half before it closed. Usually, he wouldn’t work out this late, but during the day, he had felt so unmotivated and lazy to even get out of bed. He could put the blame on Lizette because she had gone to his house the night prior, doing the same thing they always do, but he knew she wasn’t the one to blame. Something about saying no to her and having her not talk to him had physically pained him. They were in a specific arrangement, he knew that. But having someone leave him again was something he couldn’t go through. 

‘What’s Luv?’ by Fat Joe, Ja Rule, and Ashanti was playing when he set his bag down onto the ground against the wall, next to the heavy bag. He started to stretch as he took a look around; not many people were working out at this time, which he liked. 

His eyes continued to search the gym, in hopes he would find you still here. Before the slightest bit of disappointment could settle, he saw you walk out of the hallway with Jamie, smiling and laughing at something he had said. He made a face as a hint of jealousy rushed through as he saw you with Jamie. He knew that there was no point in being jealous because he barely even knew you. But for the past month that he’s been at Don’s Box, you always had this look of excitement on your face when you saw and greeted Harry. It made his stomach flutter every time you would flash him your beautiful smile as you would carry the conversation, asking him about his day and if the music was good, which he commends you for putting his favorite songs on. 

Looking away, he decided to just focus on the quick workout he could get in before the gym closed, so he retained his attention back to stretching before bending down to grab the tape from his bag to wrap his hands. 

“Uh, hi, Harry,” you smiled as you greeted him. He looked up at you. The way the light was positioned behind your head made you look like an actual angel; you were ethereal. 

He stood up and smiled softly. “Hi. How are you?” He asked, trying to contain his nerves from just looking at you. You were gorgeous, as you always are every day. You were wearing a pair of black leggings and a light pink t-shirt that was tied into a knot with the word ‘angel’ that was surrounded by wings printed in the middle. Kind of a coincidence, he thought, thinking back to when he called you an angel in his head. 

“Good, good. You’re here later than usual—without Benny too,” you pointed out, but immediately cursed at yourself for making such an odd observation and telling it to his face as if you were keeping track of the times he’s gone into the gym. 

“Yeah, I was pretty…tired during the day, so the only time I got a burst of energy was right now. And Benny is with his wife and in-laws tonight, so it’s just me tonight,” he explained with a soft chuckle. 

“Well, glad you got the chance to make it in,” you said genuinely. He simply nodded, not knowing what else to say but instead he captured himself into you as you stared at him with your captivating eyes that spoke right through him. What was happening to him? He thought. This hadn’t really happened before, and he was good at letting his walls go up and guarding his precious heart. 

“Hey, I’m gonna head out,” Jamie said, greeting you goodbye, and taking Harry out of his thoughts. “Hey, man. Have a good workout.” He shook Harry’s hand, and Harry smiled, nodding. 

“See you tomorrow,” you told Jamie, smiling a bit as you waved. Jamie left the gym, and it was just you and Harry, along with a few other people who were wrapping up their workout. 

“Are you not gonna go with him?” Harry asked, and you raised your brows in confusion. 

“Why would I go with him?” You wondered. 

“Oh, I just thought you would leave with him, y’know, your boyfriend…” he trailed off, slyly slipping in the word boyfriend in that sentence. 

You giggled, shaking your head. “No, no. Jamie isn't my boyfriend. I’ve known him since I was ten, but nothing’s ever happened between us. Besides, he has a boyfriend of his own.” Harry raised his brows in shock as his shoulders visibly relaxed. “No need to worry, Harry. I’m all yours,” you flirted a bit. You normally wouldn’t flirt so easily with someone, especially if they were a member of your gym, but something about Harry had made you release all the stress you had once you saw and talked to him. 

Harry blushed, grinning as his dimple popped out on his cheek. Your eyes lightened once you noticed that feature, making you think that he was ten times cuter than he already is. 

“You’ve been in the ring, right?” You asked curiously. Harry nodded, and the corner of your lips turned up. “Great! We have about a little less than an hour and a half, so if you’re looking for some intense cardio, I could do it with you—y’know, train you and guide you, and whatnot,” you suggested. 

If Harry’s being honest, he wasn’t planning on doing cardio today—just a few routines to get his muscles warm, but the way you’re looking at him and how you spoke to him so softly and effortlessly, he couldn’t say no. 

“Yeah, I’m up for it,” he responded. Your eye brightened, resisting the urge to squeal from excitement, telling him that you were going to get the mitts and to meet you in the ring. He chuckled slightly as you walked over to the equipment room to get the mitts. Harry quickly hit the speed bag to warm up until he saw you walk out of the room. 

He put on his gray sweater and a green packers beanie, so he could sweat more before he met you in the ring with his gloves pressed between his arm and the side of his body. You put the mitts in between your legs as Harry handed you one of the gloves. Holding onto the end of it, he put his hand inside as you pushed the glove towards him, so it would sit on his hand tightly before strapping it securely for him before proceeding to the next one. The proximity between you two was quite close as you helped him put on the gloves, and you could smell the faint scent of cologne mixed with the slightest bit of sweat, giving him that unique musk; the one that doesn’t smell horrible at all but lured you in. 

You quickly snapped out of your thoughts and looked up at Harry. “Good?” He nodded, punching the gloves together to make sure they felt comfortable. “Ready?” 

“Let’s do this,” Harry said, skipping in place to warm his body up before getting into his stance. His left leg was a few feet away from his right leg as he bounced around a bit, waiting for you. 

You faintly smirked, nodding your head before you put on the mitts. Since Harry was very familiar with the mitt workouts, you figured that you didn’t need to explain what each number represented since mostly all trainers and coaches use the same numbers for the same punch. 

“Okay, let’s warm up a bit. Give me one,” you instructed. Harry put his gloves up to protect his face as you held your right mitt up. With his left hand, he punched your mitt, not giving his full strength. “Is that all you got?” You challenged, knowing that he had more power in him. 

“I-I don’t want to hurt you,” he said honestly with a small pout, standing straight from his boxing stance. Usually, you would take offense to that statement, barking back a comment saying that just because you were a girl it didn’t mean you couldn’t take a hit, but you didn’t go that far into it, knowing Harry didn’t mean it that way whatsoever. 

“You’re not gonna hurt me, Harry. I’ve trained so many people—all with different body types and strengths. My hand has felt all different types of power, so hit the mitt like you mean it.” You hit his shoulder, building up his motivation. He nodded, getting back into his stance as did you. “Now, give me one.” 

This time, Harry’s glove met your mitt with full potential and force, and you took the hit well—not moving back or being stunned. 

“There you go! Keep going,” you told him, and he continued giving you jabs. ‘In Da Club’ by 50 Cent was blaring through the speakers as Harry breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth. Several huffs of breath came out loudly as he punched, moving and dancing around the ring with you as the two of you occasionally shifted and switched positions. 

Harry got in a few more punches before you switched it up, telling him, “1-2.” Harry jabbed with his left hand and crossed jabbed with his right hand, putting his full range of motion into his right punch. He did that combination five times as he started to feel sweat dripping down his back and the sides of his forehead. 

You were yelling out words of encouragement and motivation, praising him for his punches, to which he responded back with a better and solid punch to your mitts. 

“Nice!” You took a step back to move around the ring to take advantage of the space as Harry jumped and skipped around to wherever you directed him to. “Wanna take a break?” You asked. He shook his head no, determined to finish this workout that he couldn’t even think about wanting to take a break because he really didn’t want to. “Okay, 1-4-3,” you told him. With force, he jabbed, hooked with his left hand, and hooked with his right hand. 

This feeling that he had felt—being in the ring with you—was something entirely different than when he was in the ring with Henson or Mike. The stress that he physically carried onto his shoulder had washed away into nothingness, leaving him with a drive that didn’t include overthinking and fear. The fear that had left him worried and depressed, that his life would amount to nothing—that fear disappeared inside him once he threw the first punch. It was exhilarating and fun, and he didn’t know he could have this much fun in the ring. But this was the most pleasure he’s ever felt while boxing. 

You ordered him to do some different combinations, such as ‘1-2-3-5,’ which was a jab, cross jab, leading hook, and rear uppercut. You also included moments when he had to duck because you were swinging at him. He definitely had gotten into a rhythm, punching and moving faster. You were the trainer, the person that was supposed to instruct him, but you matched his rhythm and energy and moved quicker with him as well. 

You were starting to get a sweat in as well, and that was mostly because of the adrenaline rushing through your blood as you moved excitedly around the ring. 

After a while, a timer had gone off, telling you that it was time to close up as Harry’s focus was cut off—the sound making him look up hastily. Throughout the time you were working out with Harry, people were slowly starting to make their way out, but the two of you were too focused on working out that you hadn’t even noticed that it was just the two of you left in the gym. 

“Oh, guess we’re closing.” You stood up straighter, wiping the sweat on your forehead with your forearm. “Feelin’ good?” You asked Harry with a proud smile. 

“Feelin’ great,” he smirked. 

“Good, I’m glad. You did great!” You complimented, ripping the velcro strap with your teeth as you took off the mitts. Harry did the same, shaking out his arms as he clenched and unclenched his fists to relieve the ache from making a fist for more than an hour. 

“Thank you. You’re a really great trainer, by the way. This was…the first time I had fun in the ring,” he told you honestly, and without knowing, the slightest bit of him had opened up to you. 

Your eyes brightened, a glimpse of shimmer reflected on your eyes. “Really? Thank you, that makes me really happy, actually.” You felt like you were going to cry on the spot. No one, except your younger students, had ever told you that they had fun in the ring since most people used boxing as a way to get stronger and improve their punches. But fun? That was the first, and you would definitely keep that with you forever. 

You and Harry walked to one end of the ring as Harry held open the top two ropes with his hand as he stepped on the bottom two ropes with his foot, holding it open for you to get out. You blushed, thanking him before you got out of the ring as he followed you out. 

Once you two were on the ground, you turned around to face him. You watched as he took off his beanie, shaking his hair out as they bounced; curls were now formed into waves because of the heat and the sweat that had produced in his beanie. He looked…extra good right now. With his cheeks flushed, hair messy, and sweat dripping down his forehead, you couldn’t put into words how incredibly sexy he looked. 

You cleared your throat, not wanting to get caught for ogling him. “I, uh, have to check on some things before closing. Take your time! And I’ll see you on Monday?” You raised your brows and curled your lips in as you looked up at him. A sense of flustered-ness settled in you as you waited for his answer. 

He breathed out a chuckle as he looked down briefly before looking back into your eyes again. “Yeah, I’ll see you.” You nodded your head, waving at him before you headed over to the office. Harry smiled as he watched you walk into the hallway until he couldn’t see you anymore. 

A small blush formed onto his cheeks as he contained himself from smiling too big and too wide. He put all of his stuff back into his bag, grabbing his towel, ridding the sweat off his skin. Grabbing his belongings, he took another glance at the hallway, hoping to get another look at you before he took off, but you were occupied with closing the gym, so he didn’t bother staying any longer. 

With a small smile on his face, he walked out of the gym, taking in this new profound feeling that he’d never felt before, hoping this feeling would last. 

The next morning, Harry had a sudden urge to go back to the gym. His upper body was quite sore, but he figured he could do some leg exercises to balance the soreness he felt. He normally wouldn’t workout on the weekends since those were his rest days, but despite being sore, he didn’t feel tired. It could also do with the fact that he wanted to see you again, not wanting to wait until Monday to do that again. 

When he walked into the gym, ‘Ride Wit Me’ by Nelly was playing and his head slightly bopped to the music, walking over to the corner of the gym to warm up. He scanned the gym, looking for a particular person, but couldn’t find you. There were a decent amount of people, not too crowded or too little, so it should’ve been easy to find you. Thinking that you were probably in your office, he shook off the slight disappointment and got ready to workout. 

Throughout his workout, his head wasn’t in it. He kept glancing through the mirror to see if you had shown up, but you hadn’t. His eyes were always looking over at the front door every time someone would walk in, but a small frown settled onto his face when he realized it wasn’t you. 

He wrapped up his workout an hour later, thinking that he somewhat still got a good workout in. He walked out of the gym, saying bye to some of the guys that had caught him before he left. 

It was nearing noon when his stomach had growled, urging him to consume some food. There was a Mediterranean hole-in-the-wall restaurant right across Don’s Box, and his mouth watered at the thought of it. He walked to his car that was parked on the side of the street to drop his bag off before walking across the street to the restaurant. 

He scanned the menu, standing on the side since he didn’t know what he was ordering yet. The sound of the door ringing and a voice that was speaking to him brought him out of his thoughts. 

“Are you in line?” Harry turned his head towards the voice, and his heart nearly beating ten times faster when he saw you. He had a shocked expression on his face, not expecting to see you, especially when you were wearing the complete opposite of what he normally sees you in. You were wearing a pair of blue denim overalls with a black t-shirt underneath, along with white Reebok sneakers. You had a bit of makeup on; an orange sparkly eyeshadow look with some mascara that made your eyelashes look full and natural. Your lips were painted in a red-orange lipstick stain, bringing out more of your natural lip color. 

The beauty that Harry’s eyes were blessed with made his knees weak, sending shivers to his skin. Your angelic appearance had struck him so hard that he was sure he would see the light of day, hoping to meet you up there since you were a real-life angel. 

“Y/N…hi,” he managed to spit out. 

“Hi, Harry. Did you just workout?” You asked. 

He nodded, feeling a bit nervous. “Uh, yeah, I did.” 

“You don’t usually go in on Saturdays…” you noticed, only seeing him during the weekdays. You’re off on Saturdays, but there was one Saturday that you had gone into the gym briefly, and you didn’t see him there. 

“Yeah, I felt like going in today,” he said, obviously leaving out the part that he only went to the gym to see you again, but you didn’t need to know that bit. There was a moment of silence between you two until Harry remembered that he was probably holding up the line for you. “Oh, you could go ahead. I’m not ready to order yet.” 

You smiled, nodding your head as you stepped forward in the line. “Have you ever been here before?” 

“No, I haven’t. Do you have any suggestions?” 

You slightly squinted your eyes at him. “Do you trust me?” You asked. 

That was a difficult question for him, and somewhat vague. Did you mean overall, at the moment, or for his food order? Either way, he nodded because he knew that it didn’t matter what you meant--he had this sense of security with you that he would trust you with his life, and that said a lot, considering that he’d only known you for a month. 

“Yeah, I do trust you,” he stated honestly. 

His words brought a grin to your face, looking at him appreciatively. Based on your observations of him, you noticed that he was a bit closed off; he didn’t open himself up, and if he did, it took a lot in him to do just that. So, hearing him tell you that he trusts you made you grateful, and you would never do anything to take advantage of that trust because he didn’t just give it out easily. 

“I got you,” you simply said before turning back around towards the cashier. Harry softly smirked as he took a step forward to stand next to you. You looked at him, flashing him a toothy grin before quickly facing forward. 

You ordered your favorite dish from the restaurant, which was a beef kabab plate, for the both of you. Harry quickly got his wallet out, offering to pay, but you told him that you got it this time, hoping your words conveyed that you wanted there to be a next time. He shyly thanked you for the lunch, keeping your words in mind because he would definitely be up for a ‘next time.’ 

Luckily, you didn’t have to wait long for your order to come out, which was fortunate for Harry because he was starving. You suggested eating outside since it was a beautiful day out and Harry agreed, following you out of the restaurant. 

You two sat on the metal chairs, digging into your dishes. Harry’s mouth watered as he ate, his stomach being satisfied. There was a comfortable silence that settled between you two, only making small conversation when you asked if he liked the food, which you were glad to hear that he loved. 

“So, how long have you been running Don’s Box?” He suddenly asked, wanting to get to know you better. 

You raised your brows at his question. “For about two years now. My father, Don, opened the gym when he was twenty-five, that’s when he had me as well. But when he opened the gym, it practically changed his life. He’d boxed all of his life, and he was happy training other people when he started getting more people to come into his gym. When I was about six, he told me that he wanted me to run the gym when I turned twenty-five, only if I wanted to. But of course, I did. I looked up to him all of my life, and the gym made me happy as well,” you explained, smiling at the memory of when you were younger, being excited to turn twenty-five to do the same thing your father did. 

A soft smile appeared on Harry’s face as you reminisce on the memory. 

“How long have you been boxing?” 

“Since I was eight. Don showed me the ropes when I told him I was ready. There used to be a seating area on the side of the ring because when I was younger, I used to sit there and watch him work and train people. So, I was pretty interested and intrigued about fighting to get myself stronger, even at the young age of eight,” you chuckled. 

You were a daddy’s girl, always had been since you were born. Don had always set a pretty amazing example of how you should go about living your life. He would always say ‘Live your life with a strong punch. Keep your head up, and don’t let anything get to you because you’re so much more than what other people say. But if you need to cry, you can—there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that.’ 

As your eyes watered from the thought of your father’s words, Harry watched as you got emotional and he couldn’t help but think that you’ve crossed a line in asking too many questions. 

“Sorry, I always get emotional-”

“I’m sorry if I’ve overstepped—I should’ve kept the questions to myself-”

“Oh, no! You didn’t overstep whatsoever. I’m glad you asked me those questions, I just get soft and emotional over my dad, so hence, I’m tearing up,” you let out a somewhat pathetic chuckle as you couldn’t believe that you almost cried in front of this gorgeous man. You dabbed the corners of your eyes with your napkin, stopping the tears from falling out. 

Harry nodded understandingly, waiting for you to regroup yourself. You kept apologizing, but he kept telling you that you had nothing to be sorry for. 

“Really, if you need to cry, you can…” he told you. Your eyes widened; you were just thinking about your dad’s words two minutes ago, and for Harry to say the exact same thing Don had always told you without even knowing that Don had said those words. 

Not wanting to cry in front of him, you simply nodded your head, holding the napkin on the outer corner of your eye, so the napkin would catch your tears. 

Harry quickly changed the subject, sensing that you needed it, and you really did, so you were grateful for that. He busied himself by telling you what his favorite ice cream flavor was since he was suddenly reminded that there was a shop just down the street. He kept you occupied by talking about all the sweet treats that he used to eat with his mom back home, and how much he missed walking down the streets in the city to eat some ice cream. 

“My mum used to make this really great chocolate mousse pie, and we would eat it every weekend. It was extremely sweet, but it was delicious. I really miss it…” he told you. That had been a while ago, but it was like he could still taste the dessert as if he just ate it yesterday. 

“Is your mom back home in England?” You asked, figuring that there wasn’t any harm in asking to get to know him since he asked you some questions as well. 

“Uh…actually, I don’t know where she is…” he said honestly, and you knitted your brows in confusion. “I mean, honestly. I don’t know where she is. Ever since I went to uni, she’s been all over the place, taking vacations and barely calling. I-I feel like she’s forgotten about me,” he spoke ever so softly as he was fragile. 

You listened to him intently, giving him your full attention as he was opening up a part of his life that you knew he doesn’t tell a lot of people. A part of him that he’s kept in for so long and just the passing sense of relief he felt saying those words and speaking up about this subject had made him feel so much better. 

“I’m sure she didn’t forget about you.” 

“Seemed like it. We inherited my grandfather’s will—left us a generous amount for each of us that’ll take care of us for the rest of our lives. And she took that and ran with it. I mean, I get it—she wants to live her life, and now’s the time to do that because she’s got the money for it, but I feel…abandoned. She got up, said goodbye, and just…left. It just makes me think that I’m not good enough—that I wasn’t good enough to stay.” Harry opened a can of worms that he can’t take back anymore. But the trust that he had in you already made him want to talk about everything with you; to open up about all of his stresses and insecurities. 

Boldly, you reached your arm across the table but immediately pulled away because you didn’t want to touch him without asking. But before you could open your mouth and ask, Harry had reached forward, meeting your hand halfway as his palm was facing up as if it was a way of saying ‘you can hold my hand if you want.’ Blushing, you reached forward again and took your hand into his. 

The touch was sweet and tender as you two held hands; the want to hold each other tighter was present, wanting to take away Harry’s pain. 

“Harry, you will always be good enough. I know we just met a month ago, but I already know that you’re the sweetest, kindest person. Please know that. You are enough, and I’m grateful that you’re here and that I’m sitting across from you, eating lunch,” you declared. Harry sniffled, not knowing what to say as he put his head down, so you continued. “For as long as we’re friends, I’m gonna stay.” You spoke with complete honesty as you caressed the back of his hand with your thumb. 

Harry’s head lifted up at your last statement in disbelief as if this was the first time someone had ever said that to him. 

“Really?” 

You squeezed his hand, making his heart flutter. “Yeah. As long as you want me to,” you reassured, nodding. 

Harry gave you a soft and appreciating smile as he took a deep breath. The breath that he held in throughout the entirety of the conversation was finally let out in relief. He shrunk back into his seat, still holding your hand as you continued rubbing it, and he breathed out a chuckle. It was an overwhelming feeling that was riddled with happiness and a sense of security washed over him. 

It was like he had been waiting for you; someone new that unexpectedly came into his life was scary because it was change, but it was a good change. A change for the better. He had been vulnerable enough to open himself up, and it all led to the tight bond and trust you two had with one another, sealing your friendship and relationship. 

And you both knew this moment was going to change everything. 

Time had passed by rather quickly as it was nearing the end of October. The weather was getting chillier as the sun was beginning to disappear behind the clouds earlier. There was something about the fall weather that Harry adored. It may have to do with the fact that the gloomy sky had occurred more often, or how he got to call it a night early. Whatever it may be, he liked it, or he used to. 

In recent times, he wanted the sun to stay out until it was time to go to bed. He wanted warm days instead of gloomy. His new changed attitude towards life had to do with you. 

You and Harry had been hanging out quite a lot; getting to know one another, getting a bite or drink, and working out together, it definitely gave Harry the chance to let go of his past. He was happier, smiled more, and laughed a lot which he didn’t know he was capable of doing those things again until he met you. 

Benny loved it, though. He sure cherished it because seeing his best friend happy again was something he was afraid he wouldn’t see again. But that didn’t stop him from having a little talk with you, trying to protect Harry and set you straight. 

When Harry was occupied with hitting the speed bag, Benny walked over to the ring, where you had just finished another class with your younger students. 

“Hey, Benny!” You greeted him once you saw him walk towards you. 

“Hey, do you mind chatting for a minute?” You raised your brows, nodding your head. Benny usually didn’t talk to you privately nor was it anything serious, but by the look on his face, it seemed pretty serious. “So, you’ve been hanging out with Harry a lot, hmm?” 

You smiled softly. “Yeah! Hope you don’t mind that? Know I’m taking your best friend and all…” 

“No, I don’t mind. I’m actually glad you are. He seems quite taken by you, and I haven’t seen him like that in a very long time,” Benny said honestly. You seemed to know where this conversation was going now, and now that you thought about it, you expected this from Benny because they were like brothers and Benny would do anything to protect Harry. “What I’m trying to say is…if you’re only hanging out with him to fuck with him, don’t bother. He’s been through enough, and I know he can’t handle anymore of that and I can’t stand to see him like that again.” 

“Like what?” You hesitatingly asked. 

“Like…just know that he was a mess. He couldn’t get up, eat, drink, shower, or anything. I had to physically help him. I don’t want to see him like that ever again.” Benny shook his head as if he was reliving the horrible nightmare that he went through a few years ago. 

“Is this about his mom?” 

“He told you that?” He asked, just to make sure, and you nodded. “Kind of. But that’s only half of it. He’ll tell you when he’s ready, but I’ve already said too much. Just…take care of him, okay? He tries to act tough sometimes, but he’s trying his best to not break down. Although, I haven’t seen that kind of look on him since he’s been hanging out with you, so you’re probably doing something right.” 

You nodded understandingly. “Thanks for talking to me. I don’t plan on breaking his heart at all, and I’m quite taken with him myself,” you admitted. 

“Good. I’m glad you are. He’s a great guy.” Benny smiled, and you agreed. 

Benny didn’t talk to you for much longer before he started getting cold from standing around, so he ended the conversation and went back to working out. 

Meanwhile, as you and Benny were talking, Don took the chance himself to talk to Harry, seeing as you were occupied. 

“Harry.” Don made himself present around him. 

Harry immediately stopped his workout, greeting your father. “What’s up, Don?” 

“So, I’ve noticed that you’ve been hanging around Y/N a lot.” Don’s stance changed as he crossed his arms, sporting a slight frown. Harry gulped; he always found Don to be quite intimidating, ever since he joined the gym, but Harry didn’t want to seem like he couldn’t have a serious conversation with the father of the woman that he’s slowly falling for--no, he couldn’t act like that. “What’s that all about?” Don added. 

“I’m just…we’re friends, so we’re just hanging out. Nothing more,” he told Don honestly. Although he would like there to be more, he didn’t know how you felt about him or if you even felt anything for him at all. 

Don nodded. He could tell that Harry was holding back on something he wanted to say, and he had an idea of what that was. So, he let loose of the intimidating and protective act, knowing that wasn’t really him anyway, and his expression softened as he uncrossed his arms. He placed a comforting hand on Harry’s shoulder, taking a deep breath. 

“You have this look of wanting to say more and you don’t have to tell me, but I will tell you this…if you want to date her and go out with her, you can. This isn’t approval and a ‘yes’ for you to take her out because I don’t need to do that--she can make her own decisions. All I’m saying is that if you want to, go for it. Life is too fuckin’ short to not do anything, to not say anything.” 

Harry’s shoulders relaxed and he smiled in appreciation at Don’s words. “Thanks, Don. I definitely want to take her out, but I just don’t know how she feels about me.” 

“Oh, I’m pretty sure she feels something for you--she hasn’t told me, but I just know. You’re the first guy in a while that she’s been hanging around with consistently, and that comforts me, in a way. Knowing that she’s living her life and not holding back anymore.” Harry stayed silent, taking his words in. He tried not to overanalyze what Don had said because you’ll tell him and open up to him when you want to, just like how you’re patiently waiting for Harry to open up fully as well. “Just…don’t break her heart, okay? She’s been through enough and I just want her to be happy.” 

Harry nodded understandingly, saying a soft ‘okay’ before Don changed the subject and talked about how  Harry should train with him one of these days, which Harry immediately said yes to and they planned for the following week to train. Don left him to finish his workout, telling him to have a nice night as you and Harry were going out to dinner. 

Benny and Harry finished up their workout, and before they were able to head out the front door, Harry stopped, telling Benny to give him a minute. Harry fast-walked towards you, lugging his bag on his shoulder. You were coming out of your office, which was why Harry couldn’t say goodbye to you after his workout. 

“Hey, we’re heading out,” he said, wiping the bit of sweat on the back of his neck with his towel. 

“Oh, okay. I’ll see you later?” 

“Yeah, I’ll pick you up,” Harry suggested, pursing his lips into his mouth as he contained his smile. You nodded, eyes sparkling as you looked up at him. “I’ll, uh, page you,” he slightly smirked. 

“Okay,” you mindlessly responded as you were getting quite lost in his green eyes that looked at you intently with a gleam that sat so perfectly against his irises, making his eyes glimmer brightly.

He gave you one last smile and a little wave before walking out of the gym with Benny. You were left stunned as you stood there, completely drifted away from reality as you were in a dream about Harry. You felt a small nudge on your shoulder, causing you to snap out of your thoughts and dream as you turned around to see your father laughing. 

“Get back to work.” A smug plastered on his face. 

A breathy chuckle was released from your mouth as a hint of embarrassment emerged onto your face with wide eyes. You got back to work, focusing your attention on training your next client, but your mind was racing at the thought of Harry. 

As he promised, Harry paged you when he was outside of your apartment complex. He wanted to knock on your door like the proper gentleman that he is, but the buzzer machine to let people in wasn’t working, so paging you would have to do for now. He waited for you outside of his newly washed car, making sure it was nice and clean for you as he leaned against the passenger door. 

You walked out of your building, and Harry was immediately blown away. You were wearing a black skirt with stockings that hugged your legs, and a white knitted sweater since it was on the chillier side. 

Every time he saw you, his heart would beat incredibly fast, pulse pounding through his veins. His stomach was in flits of butterflies, soaring in his heart and stomach, making him extremely nervous. Every time he saw you, everything would stop, like you were the only person in the world and everything was okay. 

“Hey, H,” you flashed him your smile, one that he looked forward to every time he saw you. 

“H-Hi,” he stuttered, clearing his throat to start over. “Hi. You look really nice.” 

You blushed. “Thank you! You look great as well. Love this top.” You reached forward, lightly tugging at his red-orange knitted long-sleeve. He paired it with blue jeans that flared at the bottom with white sneakers. His fingers were covered in beautiful silver rings, making his hands look quite gorgeous. 

“Thank you, shall we?” 

“Yeah, oh, I got you something.” You reached into your bag to take out the cased CD, and before Harry was about to protest, you handed it to him. “I made you this mixtape. Just some songs that I think you’ll like—I’m sure you know all of them, but they just made me think of you,” you said shyly. 

You weren’t normally shy and you would call yourself a pretty strong and confident person, but you had been so nervous to give this to him—even making the tape left you anxious and shaking. 

“Wow, this is…very thoughtful of you. Thank you so much.” Harry looked at the CD with the songs written in your handwriting. There were 10 songs, and Harry knew all of them. They were all…romantic songs. 

“That’s not weird, right? Y’know, making you a mixtape?” You asked unsurely. The odd feeling had popped into your mind at the last second as you watched Harry observe the CD, not giving a bad nor good reaction to your gift. 

“No, not at all! I really appreciate this. No one has ever made a mixtape for me before, so this is really nice and special. Thank you again.” He reached forward, wrapping one arm around your shoulders as both of your arms found their way around his waist. You somewhat weren’t convinced that he liked it, and he could tell just by how you were looking at him--looking for some more reassurance--that it seemed like he didn’t like it. When he pulled away, he looked at you before saying, “Really, it makes me happy that you took the time to make this for me. It’s so sweet and thoughtful of you, and I already love all the songs on here, so I’m one-hundred-percent going to enjoy this.” 

You nodded, smiling softly as he opened the door for you and you thanked him, blushing as you got in. It seemed very much like a date and you couldn’t help but smile at the thought of that. 

Harry drove to the sandwich shop that waited for you both. It was twenty minutes away on the other side of the town, but Harry had been raving about it so much to you that you told him that you two should go, which Harry was more than happy to take you. 

The sound of Boyz II Men filled the speakers of Harry’s car as the two of you sang your hearts out to ‘On Bended Knees,’ putting full emotion and passion into singing. You held up your water bottle, pretending that it was a microphone, and Harry kept shifting his gaze on you, trying to keep his eyes on the road, but also wanting to look at you as you sang. He smiled to himself, absolutely loving how you were so carefree--something that he admired about you. 

His heart fluttered, curling his lips into his mouth before he did something that was quite bold of him to do. Reaching over, he grabbed your hand, intertwining your fingers together. Your body was frozen, but you continued to sing, covering up the fact that Harry was holding your hand so casually. You were stiff as a board, so you tried loosening up, swaying your body from side to side, slightly averting your eyes towards him as he continued to drive. 

The moonlight cast through the car window, giving him a dim glow, accentuating his features; jawline prominent, his lashes shadowed down onto his cheeks, and his eyes were calm; the light reflecting against his glassy green eyes. Your heartbeat a million miles a minute as you looked at him. You had this appreciation and admiration for him--that you were lucky and grateful that you have him and that there was nothing more beautiful than the man sitting beside you. 

With your face on fire, you smiled as you carried on, singing with the warmth of Harry’s hand connected with yours. 

You were sitting across Harry, munching on your sandwich as you listened to him talk about how he wanted to actually find a job. He’s been sitting around, living quite wealthy as his inheritance sat safely. But he’d been getting bored. Every day was a routine for him and it was a pretty boring routine, he would say. The only places he really went to were the gym and the places that the two of you went together, but that was it. He needed a hobby, something that he could escape to that doesn’t require breaking a sweat from punching bags and mitts. 

“You said you like books, so maybe you could see if the bookstore down the street from the gym is hiring. That would be a nice little place to work at,” you suggested. 

Harry’s eyes lightened up, apart from thinking that was a great idea and the other part from being surprised that you remembered such a small detail about him when he’d talked about books briefly with you. 

“I should definitely do that, thank you. I love that bookstore, it’s-”

“Y/N?” Harry was interrupted by a man who had walked over to your table. Harry looked up, observing the guy as he was looking at you so intently. He quickly looked at you as you were looking up at the man with a shocked expression on your face, wide eyes and mouth slightly opened. 

“Uh, hi,” you said, feeling slightly uncomfortable. Your eyes glanced at Harry and he had a worried expression on his face, eyes asking if you were okay. You nodded softly, bringing your attention back to him. 

“I-I’ve been calling the gym and paging you, but you haven’t been answering any of them…” the man mentioned slyly. You were quite speechless, not expecting him to be here and not knowing what to say. 

“I, uh-”

“Can we talk right now?” He asked. You were flickering your eyes between Harry, someone that you were completely infatuated with, and the man that you were completely irritated with. But if you didn’t talk to him right now, he wouldn’t leave you alone and wouldn’t stop calling you, so you made the mistake of saying a soft ‘okay’ as you got up, looking over at Harry, giving a subtle smile. 

Just by the way he was looking at you, you knew you had regretted your decision and you wished that you hadn’t given in so easily. 

Once you were outside, you crossed your arms, in a way to seem reserved and closed off, but in reality, you really were. The uncomfortableness you felt was something you haven’t felt in a while as it felt like your stomach was boiling as bile salivated your mouth. Your fists were hidden underneath your arms, clenching, and your lips were curled into your mouth to immediately spew inappropriate sayings and vile remarks. 

“What do you want to talk about?” You asked, brows pinched together. 

“I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for quite a while now, but I just wanted to talk. I hate how we ended things…” he said remorsefully. You tried not to fall for the pouty look he was giving you as if he knew quite well you would fall for it. 

“It’s been six months, Max,” you reminded him. You and Max had an ugly breakup, and you had been picking up your own pieces yourself. You two had been together for nearly a year until he started to act differently. Noticing that he was going home late, staying at the bars until the early hours of the morning, and being quite rude and dismissive towards you, it ended in a screaming match where he ended up spitting out rude comments at you--calling you ugly, useless, and boring. It also caused him to confess that he was cheating on you for half the time you were together with him, and you thought that was a lie he made up just to make you angry, but a month after the breakup, you had found out that was true because you had accidentally bumped into the girl he was cheating on you with. At the time, you couldn’t blame him because the girl was absolutely gorgeous and seemed a lot of fun, but now, you know your worth and you absolutely didn’t deserve that whatsoever. 

For six months, you hadn’t seen him, but he had been leaving you countless calls to the gym phone. However, Max wouldn’t dare to step foot in the gym ever again because Don had clearly threatened him when he saw Max on the street, pinning him up against the brick wall by his shirt and yelling in his face that if he ever came close to you or the gym ever again, he wouldn’t see the end of the day. 

Don would’ve lost his shit if he saw Max in front of you. 

“This is pointless. I was fine living my life for the past six months without you. In fact, I haven’t even thought about you until you showed up. Couldn’t you see I was doing just fine? Why can’t you just leave me alone?” Your tone was scornful, not wanting to be in front of him anymore but instead the lovely man inside. 

“I just assumed you wanted some sort of closure…” 

“If I wanted closure, then I would’ve called you. But I don’t need closure. I was doing okay-” 

“With who? That man inside the restaurant?” He interrupted, brows raised. His demeanour suddenly changed just because you had given him the slightest bit of attitude. Max went from soft, wanting forgiveness to the Max that you saw last--completely offensive, rude, and a dickhead.  

“Yeah, his name is Harry, by the way. I was doing okay until you showed up!” You rolled your eyes, making your way back inside to Harry, who was waiting for you inside. 

Of course, Max wasn’t done until he got the last word, so he yelled out, “You know, whatever you’re doing with him, he’s gonna leave you; just like how I left you.” You slowly turned around, heart aching as his words had definitely done something this time. “You think Harry cares about you Y/N? Think again, he’s gonna leave you and you’re gonna be alone. You’re nothing, Y/N--not without me, at least. You aren’t worth anything, and you had to take over your dad’s gym to feel like you are. Stop fooling yourself.” 

Your eyes watered, trying your hardest not to let them slip from your eyes. You had already felt weak tearing up in front of him, so you couldn’t imagine what he would think if you bawled your eyes out. Suddenly, you heard the bell above the restaurant door chime. You didn’t bother turning around, but you somehow knew that it was Harry who was behind you. 

“Everything alright here?” Harry asked warily, eyes pointed towards you. 

“Yeah, man. See you, Y/N.” With that, he walked away, hopefully for good. Harry knew everything wasn’t alright with how you’re ready to burst into tears. As much as he wanted to follow him, force an answer out of him as to why you were in such distress, he was more worried about you. 

Standing in front of you, Harry placed an arm on your shoulder, his other hand held the brown paper bag that had both of your leftovers as he didn’t want to eat without you. Your body was tense, not because of Harry’s touch but because of the words that had taken such an effect on you, and you were doing everything to not break down in the middle of the sidewalk. 

“Hey, you okay?” Harry asked softly, bending down slightly to look you in the eyes. Your eyes were pointed down at the ground, thinking that if you looked Harry in the eyes, you were going to break. 

“Uh, c-can you take me to the gym, please?” You asked once you fully gained the courage to speak, but your voice was shaky. 

Harry immediately nodded. “Yeah, yeah, of course. Let’s go.” He put his arm around your shoulders and you comfortably nuzzled into his side as he guided you to his car. 

The drive back was silent—the complete opposite from the drive to the restaurant. Instead of happiness radiating out of your bodies, the space felt gloomy. Harry’s mind had spiraled as he drove, thinking about what that man could have possibly said to you. He was torn between wanting to be angry, but he was more concerned for you because you had never been this silent before. 

Once Harry was in front of the gym, you immediately got out before he was able to turn off the car. Using your keys, you unlocked the front door, turning off the alarm system before throwing your purse, not caring where it landed and rushed towards the heavy bags. 

This was where you let all your anger out. The place where you screamed at the top of your lungs with no care on who might hear you. This was your safe space, and if someone was going to judge you for utilizing your safe space, then they didn’t belong there. 

You screamed, punched, and kicked the heavy bag with full force as your tears had streamed down your face. Your heart was beating painfully with every scream you forced out of your body. Your punches were solid, making the bag swing back and forth, but your knuckles were starting to redden because you didn’t wrap your hands. 

Harry quickly followed you, a frown plastered on his face as he watched you let your anger out all on the heavy bag. He let you do your thing, watching from the sidelines before he waited for the right moment to cut in. 

“You. Fucking. Stupid. Piece. Of. Shit,” you yelled out with every punch. You sniffled, continuing to punch the bag, eyes glossy from your endless amount of tears. 

The friction from the leather and your bare skin was rubbing against each other, cutting and peeling open your skin. Your hands had numbed the pain, so you carried on with your punches until Harry had wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into his chest and away from the heavy bag once he started to see redness and blood scattered onto your knuckles. You screamed, your body protesting, wanting to continue punching, but you knew you didn’t have any more energy. 

Turning around in his arms, your face was met with his chest, sobbing into his shirt. Harry’s hands soothed your back, comforting you as his heart ached from the sadness you radiated. Your bloody hands clutched his shirt as you cried, tears staining his shirt. Your whines and whimpers filled the empty gym, echoing back at you. 

Everything hurt—your heart, eyes, body, and your hands were now starting to sting. Harry held you tighter, carefully taking a seat onto the ground and bringing you down with him. You sat in between his legs and your head rested on his shoulder. 

After a moment, he felt you calm down and your body physically relaxed. Mindlessly, his hand brushed your hair back from your forehead, pressing a kiss to your skin. Harry hadn’t realized he did that until he pulled away and he hoped he hadn’t crossed a line by doing that. But when he kissed your forehead, you pulled him closer, burying your face into his neck. 

“Talk to me—tell me what you need, angel,” he said softly, wanting to help and be there for you. The nickname had completely slipped out as he’d been calling you that in his head. He’d never seen you break down at all, so this was very new to him. 

You shook your head, nickname going over your head. “Nothing. Just you.” 

Harry nodded his head, heart fluttering at your words as he held you tighter. He continued to soothe your hair and back as he heard you sigh deeply at the comfort. Looking down at your hands, he realized they were still bloody and cut up, and he knew that your cuts needed to be treated as soon as possible. 

“Can I take care of your hands? I’m still gonna be close, just wanna bandage you up.” You sniffled, nodding your head. Harry slightly smiled, carefully getting up before helping you up. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder, first asking you where the first aid kit was, and you two walked to one of the offices to get the kit before going to the restroom. “Wanna sit?” He asked, patting the cold counter. Nodding your head, you placed your hands on the counter, but he quickly stopped you, taking off his jacket for you to sit on. 

“Thank you,” you softly said to him gratefully before jumping to sit on the counter. 

Harry opened the box that contained multiple and different types of bandages, an instant cold pack, thermometer, antiseptic wipes, and scissors. Harry washed his hands well before grabbing the antiseptic wipe and ripping it open. He situated himself between your legs, gently grabbing your hand to rest on his. He looked up at you, first asking you if it was okay to start, and when you said yes, he slowly and carefully started to wipe the area around the cut. 

You watched him as he cleaned your cuts; he was so focused on wiping the blood that stained your skin and was careful not to press too hard because you were starting to bruise already. As you watched him, you felt immensely grateful. It’d been a while since you had a true friend that would help you with anything and take care of you. Your feelings for him had skyrocketed, heart pounding so loud you could feel it in your ears. 

“The guy at the restaurant was my ex-boyfriend, Max,” you suddenly said. Harry looked up at you to let you know that he was listening as he continued to clean your hands. “It was a bit of a messy breakup; he called me names, insulted me, and confessed that he was cheating on me. When I saw him at the restaurant, that was the first time since the breakup, and it was like I relived that day again.” 

“Did he say anything to you?” Harry asked, holding back his anger because he knew the answer,  Harry watched through the window the entire time and noticed your posture and demeanor change, causing Harry to quickly pay and rush outside just in case anything happened. 

“Y-Yeah.” Your voice croaked. “Said I didn’t amount to anything—that I wasn’t anything without him-”

“That’s bullshit, Y/N-”

“I’m so mad at myself.” Tears were forming in your eyes again as you looked down at your lap. Redness brimmed your eyelids as you sniffled. 

“What? Why?” Harry asked confusingly. 

You shook your head at yourself. “For years, I’ve been training—learning how to defend myself for when I need it. I was raised to have a strong mindset, to not take shit from anyone because Don told me not to. But when he came around, I didn't say a word, let alone move a muscle. I hate how he made me weak. I hate how I didn’t stand up for myself.” Your voice was shaky and your tears streamed down your face as you paused for a moment. “He told me that you were gonna leave me just like everyone else in my life did,” you added. 

Harry was seething, breathing in through his nose as his face hardened. He masked his anger because his priority was to comfort you, so he tried to let go of his anger for a moment. 

“Listen to me.” He placed his hands on the outside of your legs, bending down to look you in the eyes. Your glossy eyes looked at him, a small pout on your face. “You’re the strongest person I know, alright, angel?” This time, you heard the pet name loud and clear, making your heart do backflips. “You didn’t let him walk all over you, no, you’re much more mature than him to ever start something. He wanted to see you angry, and frustrated. He wanted to add fuel to the fire, and you didn’t give him the satisfaction. You aren’t weak at all. You’ve got a strong heart, and I’m sure that punch of yours to his nose would damage it for good.” 

You breathed out a chuckle at his last statement, nodding, knowing he was right. Harry smiled, dimples showing proudly as he wiped the tears that were falling from your eyes. Giving him a half-smile, you leaned forward, pressing your face against his collarbones. He stood up straight to wrap his arms around your back. You daringly placed a kiss onto the exposed skin that was peeking out from his shirt. Harry’s face warmed up at the touch that was so soft and delicate, yet felt like it was burning through his skin. You pulled away, looking up at him as you thanked him. 

Your eyes darted between his eyes and his lips as your face was just inches away from him. His face was delicate and his beauty shined over the darkness of the world. It was as if he didn’t seem real like you couldn’t believe someone so beautiful and breathtaking was standing right in front of you. You studied every curve, movement, and freckle on his face as they all very well defined him, heightening your admiration with every look of his perfections and imperfections. 

Harry blushed under your stare, clearing his throat as he felt nervous. He pulled his face away a tad bit, offering you a small smile. “Of course. Always gonna be here for you. Now, let me just finish cleaning your hands before taking you home.” 

You nodded, letting him finish with his task. His hands were gentle as he wrapped the bandage around your hand. Your heart was filled with so much admiration and gratitude that you simply wouldn’t know what to do if Harry weren’t there today. The growing feelings had taken over your heart and mind that you were a bit scared, but nonetheless, you let them take over. 

Harry sat at the bar next to Benny, nursing a beer he had ordered ten minutes ago. It had been a while since they hung out together, but that was because Benny was trying to get his wife pregnant, so when Marianne calls, they spent their time baby-making. The other reason was that Harry was spending most of his time with you, which he loved every minute of. 

“So, a little bird told me that you’ve been going to the gym on Saturdays now,” Benny mentioned, a hint of tease in his tone. 

Harry chuckled. “Really? And who told you that?” He asked, taking a sip of his beer. 

“Starts with a D and ends with an N,” Benny laughed, giving you the obvious answer. 

“Well, I’ve been going in on Saturdays because Don always schedules our training sessions on Saturdays. Nothing else,” he slightly lied. After his first training day with Don, Harry told Don that he wanted to continue training with him because he gets a good workout with him rather than by himself, hitting the heavy bag or speed bag, so Don always scheduled for Saturdays since those were the easiest days. 

But other than the training sessions, he also got to see you on Saturdays, which he really enjoyed because sometimes after his workout, you two would grab a bite to eat or plan to hang out later that day. He liked it, he liked you. 

“Hmm, interesting. It doesn’t have to do with a particular trainer who also happens to own the gym?” Benny raised his brows. 

“Not really into Don, to be honest,” Harry joked, bouncing around Benny’s question. They both laughed, slamming their hand on the bar top. 

“Really, though. I’m happy for you. You’ve been in such a happier mood, and that’s all I want—is for you to be happy. She’s doing a great job,” Benny said honestly. Seeing his friend happy after everything he’s been through had lifted a certain weight off of his shoulders, and it seemed like he didn’t need to worry about Harry. 

Harry simply nodded, smiling as words weren’t necessary. He always felt like Benny was always concerned about him, and although he appreciated him being worried, he didn’t need to anymore because Harry was finally feeling much happier than he was before. 

“There you are.” A voice was suddenly heard next to Harry along with a hand on his shoulder. Harry tensed up, and he hadn’t in a while, but he knew that wasn’t your voice nor was it your touch. Harry turned his head to the side to find Lizette sitting on the stool next to him, giving him a smug smile. He didn’t say anything but look at Benny, and saw his eyes narrow, confused as to why Lizette was here. “I’ve been calling your home and paging you. Why haven’t you been answering me?” She pouted. 

Harry knew that pout all too well. She used it to trick you into saying yes to her and getting what she wanted, but Harry was stronger than that now; he knew how to hold his ground. 

He hadn’t seen Lizette ever since the week before he joined Don’s Box. With all of his time spent with you, he hadn’t really thought about Lizette, if he’s being honest. You had fully taken every inch and space of his mind that it was maximum capacity, but he still found a way to make space from the invading thoughts of you. 

“Just been…busy, Lizette, that’s all,” he said, not giving her his full attention as he looked at his bottle. 

“Too busy for me?” 

“Yeah, something like that.” He didn’t want to outright be rude to her because naturally, Harry was a kind and thoughtful man, so he kept his harsh thoughts to himself. 

She inched closer to Harry, close enough to where her mouth was against his ear as she whispered, “Well, since I so happened to run into you, how about we go back to yours?”

Harry took a deep breath. He felt like he was his old self again—making impulsive and not so thought out decisions that end up fucking him and his emotions over in the future. Being with Lizette was something, and it helped make him feel a little less lonely, even though she immediately left right after she got what she wanted. 

But Harry hadn’t felt lonely at the moment and in months. He had his best friend next to him, having a drink, and he had you. He wasn’t lonely at all. So, why was he getting off the stool and putting his coat on before closing his tab for the night? 

Benny’s eyes widened, looking at Harry as if he was asking what the actual fuck was he doing. Harry simply shrugged, patting his friend on the back before following Lizette out of the bar. The air was cold, but it wasn’t a delightful cold that he wanted to be in. It almost seemed kind of eerie as the gray clouds hovered over them. 

Lizette hugged Harry’s arm. “I’m glad you agreed.” She leaned up to kiss his cheek, but he immediately pulled away, taking his arm out of her hold. 

“You should go home,” he told her. Her mouth opened, but nothing came out as she was confused. “Get a ride home. I’m not taking you home nor am I going with you. I don’t want to do this anymore, Lizette.” 

“But you came with me-”

“That didn’t mean I was saying yes to your offer. I came out here with you to get you off of me and not embarrass me in front of my friend and the entire bar.” Harry’s voice was stern as he crossed his arms. “I know you’ve never really cared about me, so please just do me a favor and leave. I’m happier now-”

“You’re happier? With some other girl, huh?” Harry nodded and Lizette rolled her eyes, expression annoyed as she was beginning to get angry and defensive. “You think she cares? Guess what, Harry, she doesn’t. She’s gonna leave you just like your mom left you, your ex-girlfriend left you. Remember when she fucked your best friend in college? That she left you to be with him? And look at them now, they’re married! They don’t give a single fuck about you! What makes you think that this girl you’re seeing does?” 

Lizette had definitely hit a nerve. Harry had gone four years without hearing the story on how his ex left him for one of his friends from uni. The situation was quite sad, and it left Harry in pieces. Not to mention, Lizette was his ex’s best friend and she somehow seduced him into regularly having sex with her, which wasn’t entirely her fault because Harry was lonely and needed to feel something to fill the void of his loneliness. 

“Don’t think you’re so easy to love, Harry. It takes a lot of effort to do that, especially with you. You’re gonna continue being scared and closed off, and people are gonna continue to run away-”

“Harry?” Lizette was suddenly interrupted by you. You were walking to the bar because Benny had invited you, thinking that it would’ve been a nice surprise for Harry and to hang out with just the three of you. But you had seen Harry and some woman on the street and his face looked angry. “Uh, hi.” 

You turned towards the unknown woman as she looked you up and down before turning towards Harry, raising her brows as she figured out who you were and who Harry had been spending so much time with. 

Harry completely blocked you out, his attention was towards the statements Lizette had made. He had been doing so much better, and all of a sudden the relapse hit him ten times harder, like his accomplishment of being okay with himself completely disappeared. 

 Was he that hard to love? He knew that he pushed people away, that’s for sure, but he didn’t realize that it was difficult to love him. Harry then thought about the people that had left him because they didn’t love him enough to stay. His ex left him for his friend, it seemed like his mum had forgotten about him, and soon enough, Benny was gonna get tired of him and so were you. 

“And you are?” You asked, scowling at the woman in front of you. Lizette smirked, seeing as there was an opportunity right in front of her. She didn’t find you 

intimidating whatsoever. 

“Oh, guess Harry didn’t tell you, but we’ve been sleeping with each other for years. Friends with benefits, if you will,” Lizette answered with some sass and a snarl to her tone as she watched your expression turn into a hurtful one. 

Your face had softened as your eyes welled up with tears, but you didn’t dare let them fall. You looked at Harry and it seemed like he was in his head, but you had no clue he was ‘seeing someone.’ It felt like you had been cheated on, even though going out as friends didn’t mean anything to a fuck buddy. All of the moments you spent with him—the laughs, storytelling, training, and tension-filled moments had connected you both to one another. It made you feel special that you were seeing a side of Harry that no one else had, but you were wrong. 

“Guess you’re the new girl he’s seeing?” 

“What’s it to you?” Your brows knitted. 

Lizette shrugged. “Nothing. Just know that Harry’s difficult and loveless. So, just get out while you can.” She reached over to touch your shoulder, but you quickly stepped back before she could. She was talking as if Harry wasn’t right next to you two, and if this was a ‘women looking out for women’ type of situation, you weren’t going to accept it because she outright just insulted Harry. 

You were livid as your eyes turned dark, stepping closer to her. “Stay away from him, or I swear to god-”

“Or what? What are you gonna do?” Lizette challenged, stepping closer. She was slightly taller than you since she wore four-inch leather boots.

“Wanna find out? Next time I see you with him or hear you talk shit about him again, then you’ll find out because I can guarantee you’ll never see the light of day.” You held eye contact with her as she looked at you with such fierce emotion. 

“Cute. Harry’s got a little bodyguard,” she scoffed, stepping back. “I should go,” Lizette suddenly said, breaking you out of your heartbreaking thoughts. “I’ll call you,” she told Harry, despite what you had just said. It seemed like he wasn’t even listening as his blank stare was trained onto the ground. She walked away, her heels clicking against the cement. The satisfaction she felt right now felt good, knowing her words had definitely affected you both. 

When Lizette was far enough, you turned back towards Harry. This time, he was looking at you in a confused state, and it didn’t seem like him. 

“I-I didn’t know you were seeing someone-”

“You should go…” he said straightforwardly. You raised your brows as you were taken back. 

“I’m sorry?” 

“You should leave. For good. Get out of my life while you can. I promise I won’t get mad.” His voice cracked and was shaky. He couldn’t even look you in the eye while he was talking because he knew that would break his heart even more, especially if you were to actually leave for good. The negative thoughts had taken over, and this was what he did—pushing people away and giving them a way out before they realized that Harry wasn’t a lovable or worthy enough person to stay around for. 

“What makes you think I’m going anywhere?” You questioned confusingly. You wondered if he even thought about the conversation you two had a few moments ago when you had told him that you were staying for good. 

“They all do, anyway. They all leave and they never come back.” His voice was starting to raise slightly, frustration and anger pouring out of his veins as his eyes were starting to tear up. A pout remained on your face as you watched the distress never leave his angelic face. “Just please go.”

“I’m not going anywhere-”

“Why won’t you-”

“Because I care! Why don’t you get that?” You raised your voice, not too loud to startle him, but enough to convey your emotions and frustrations to him. 

“Because you’re going to eventually! You’re gonna leave and use me and never love me. I’m used to it, so you could go now!” Harry was starting to cry, light sobs were coming out of his mouth as he was trying to hold them back. You took a step forward, wanting to comfort him as your heart broke at the sight, but he stepped back, not wanting your touch. 

Your heart sank when he stepped back away from you because he had never done that before. You two were always comfortable with one another that both of your touches had felt like security. Your tears had streamed down your face, quickly wiping them. 

“Harry, I’m not gonna leave…” 

“It’s fine. You don’t know what it’s like for someone to leave and never come back. You don’t know what it’s like to feel completely loveless that someone physically had to get out of your life and not want to be in it anymore. You don’t know what it’s like!” He spoke firmly as he cried, tugging his curly locks in frustration. 

“I don’t know what it’s like?” You spoke loudly, and Harry looked up at you. “I know exactly what it’s like because my own mother left me when I was eleven-years-old, and I have no idea why!” You vented, sniffling. “You don’t think I know what it’s like to constantly wonder what you’re doing wrong because the people that were supposed to be there for you completely vanished? Because I do! I know that feeling quite well. So, don’t tell me I don’t know shit because it seems like we’re in the same boat.” 

Harry was speechless. Sure, you two had been close and had talked about your lives and childhood, but this was something that you two had to dig deep for because it wasn’t something you regularly spoke about nor did you tell new people that you’d just met. 

“I-I’m sorry I had no idea…” 

“You couldn’t have had any idea, Harry. But just know that that day my mom left me still confuses me. The look on my dad’s face when he told me that mom left still haunts me. The crying I did since I was eleven hurts me because she didn’t love me enough to stay.” 

“Y/N…” 

“It’s fine, I get it. I know we’ve known each other for only a few months, but I did not expect this from you, especially because of all that we’d talked about. I’d say I’m the newest person in your life but I’m also the closest, besides Benny. So, don’t shut me out.” Your heart was beating through your chest and all of your emotions began to pile up like they were leaves, falling from the branches of the trees. 

Harry looked defeated, knowing that you were right. He sniffled, not knowing what else to say because all he felt was a painful feeling in his chest since Lizette had gone up to him at the bar. 

When he didn’t say anything, you just nodded, knowing that it was best to give him some space so he could realize that you were here for him and that you weren’t going anywhere. 

“Call me when you wanna talk…” you told him before turning around. Harry watched you—he knew that he should go after you, not be scared and let you in, perhaps tell you that he’s practically in love with you, but he doesn’t move, feet glued to the ground. 

When you were only a few feet away, you turned back around, knowing that you hadn’t gotten your final words out yet. Harry looked up when he heard footsteps approaching him. 

“Fuck whatever people say to you; trying to degrade and bring you down because whatever they say, it’s not true. I will always be there to defend you, Harry. Don’t think I won’t be because I will always be on your side.” You paused for a moment. Your heart was fully opening and was beginning to be vulnerable. Trying not to let it overwhelm you, you continued. “Don’t think you’re not easy to love because you are. You’re extremely easy to love, y’know that? I would know because…I love you. And that’s crazy to say because we’ve only known each other for a short period of time, but I can’t help what I feel. So, there you go.” 

Before Harry was able to say anything, you walked away, and he could hear you sniffling and crying. Harry’s mouth was ajar, completely speechless and shocked, but his heart fluttered as he took in your words. You really loved him, he thought. No one had said those words and really meant them or they hadn’t felt real to him when he heard them, so the shock that he felt was new. 

You were far enough where Harry couldn’t see you. He hadn’t even moved an inch, and he knew that later on, he was going to be very disappointed in himself for not chasing you down and telling you that he loved you too. But for now, he needed to take it all in and hope that when he did tell you, it wouldn’t be too late. 

Taking a deep breath, you walked inside to your apartment, sniffling as you went straight to the bathroom to take a long and hot shower. Before you left your place to go to the bar, you had been contemplating your appearance because you wanted to look good. Nerves were all over your body as you were getting ready, and you sulked at how the events had completely turned tonight around. 

When you were out of the shower and changed, ready to get into bed despite the night only being nine in the evening, your pager beeped. Picking it up off the bedside table, the message was sent from Harry, reading ‘143.’ You raised your brows, reading it again and reading it once more. Your heart was pounding, studying the numbers to make sure you read them right. The simple code for ‘I love you’ was printed on your pager and you wanted to scream. 

Before you could actually scream, there was a knock on your door. You walked quickly, opening it as Harry was standing behind it, holding his pager out as he smiled softly at you. You had just finished crying in the shower, so your eyes were red and a tad bit swollen, but you were close to crying again because of how overwhelmed you felt. 

“Did you mean it?” You asked hesitantly, holding your pager up. 

“Of course I do. Did you mean it?” He retaliated back, wondering if you meant your three words as well. 

“Of course I mean it, Harry. Why wouldn’t I?” You asked, wiping the tear that had slipped down your face. 

“Because I love you. I love you so fuckin’ much that it hurts,” he claimed in one breath, feeling the tension and weight that he held in his shoulders release. “You’re everything to me, and you make my world less frightening. I just see your pretty smile and my day completely turns into a great one. I don’t wanna waste a day not telling you that now, and it feels pretty damn good to say it.”

You slightly nodded until you remembered one of your concerns earlier. “What about Lizette?” 

“Lizette was someone I used to sleep with. I haven’t seen her nor slept with her in months—before I even met you, I promise. And I’m sorry for assuming that you didn’t know what it felt like for someone to leave and that you had to tell me under those circumstances. But just know, that I’m not gonna leave, unless you tell me to, that is.” Every bit of him was opening up and he wasn’t hiding away. He was being completely vulnerable and it had scared him a bit, but when his words came out, he felt himself get better. 

You looked at him through your glassy eyes, vision blurred for a moment until you adjusted them and clearly saw the gorgeous man in front of you. His eyes were filled with tears as well, and you thought, how could someone still look so pretty while they cried? But that was Harry for you; someone who was genuinely beautiful no matter what. Someone who had a heart of gold and a flashing smile that made your heart swoon and knees weak. 

You simply reached your hand out and Harry walked towards you, into your apartment as he came close to your face as your bodies were pressed up against one another. The back of his fingertips gently brushed the side of your face, admiring the beauty that stood before him as he opened his heart up completely, not wanting to go another day without saying those three words back to you. 

The corners of your lips turned up and your tears were replaced by happy ones. You had walked away from Harry after you said I love you because he was looking at you like he had seen a ghost, not a friendly one, but more of a scary one. So, hearing those words were just music to your ears. 

“You mean that? That you love me?” You wanted to hear it again and again and again. 

“Ever word. I love you, angel,” he repeated, adding your nickname. He pressed his forehead against yours, inches away from your lips. 

“Never stop calling me that,” you instructed him, smiling. The first time he had said it, you came to the conclusion that you absolutely loved hearing that name come out of his mouth, especially if it was specifically for you. 

“Only if you never stop telling me that you love me,” he slightly smirked, dimples poking out. He was so immensely happy that his heart could burst just because of the love that he felt for you. 

You giggled. “I love you, baby-” 

“I, uh, wait. Do you mind…not calling me that?” He hesitated, and you raised your brows confused. “Someone else called me that, and I just don’t like hearing it. Never have since it came out of her mouth,” he explained shyly. 

A sudden realization came to your face as you realized that Lizette probably called him that. “Okay. I won’t call you that, ever…darling.” Harry’s lips began to slowly turn up, already liking that name so much better than the other one. He hugged you; and you smiled, closing and opening your eyes to make sure you weren’t dreaming. Your arms snaked around Harry’s waist as he cradled your delicate face in his hands. 

“Never stop calling me that,” he repeated your words as you two smiled and laughed until your jaws started hurting. 

His eyes flickered down to your lips and back up to your eyes. You pursed your lips, blushing as you watched his eyes glance back up and down. You rubbed the tip of your nose against his, pulling him closer; hearts beating in sync as butterflies filled your stomach. 

He brushed his lips against yours before fully connecting them, feeling every spark and shiver that traveled down his spine. You smiled into the kiss as the softness of his lips moved and molded against yours, feeling completely in bliss. The way his lips slotted perfectly with yours made you saturated and dizzy off of his love and touch. Butterflies were still in your stomach, but they were calm like they had been fluttering around for this moment, his touch, in order to relax. 

Pulling back, he smiled down at you, eyes love-struck, before giving you another kiss, and pulling away and kissing you again once more. 

“Kissing you is my new favorite thing,” he stated, drunk off kisses. You breathed out a giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck as you breathed in his scent. You felt his breath against your neck, feeling completely happy and content in each other’s arms. 

There was no fear in the air; just the two of you with open hearts and arms, welcoming in the new and profound feeling that you both took in, knowing that it’s going to change everything for the better. 

You pulled him inside and Harry kicked the door closed with his foot. His arms were holding you tight as you walked back to your bedroom. Opening your mouth slightly, Harry took the chance to meet your tongue with his, swiveling and tasting each other causing a shiver to run down your spine. 

You pulled back when Harry laid down on the bed, taking in the gushy feeling you had as you smiled. 

“Want you,” you simply stated. 

“You have me, angel.” 

“I know, but I want you. Need you,” your eyes pleaded for his touch, to feel him inside of you, for him to make you feel good. You desperately craved for his hands on all of you, his mouth kissing every inch of your skin, and his love passionately pouring out of his veins. 

Harry nodded, smiling. “Need you too. Need you forever,” he said, connecting your lips again as he hovered over you. 

You two kissed for a while, giggling against each other’s lips and having his weight on top of you as your hands roamed his back. You bucked your hips into his, feeling the hard-on that was growing in his pants, which made Harry grind into your center, moaning softly into your mouth. 

“Please do something,” you said, and he nodded, getting off of you before taking his jacket and shirt off swiftly. His tattoos were showcased in front of you and all you wanted to do was kiss every single one of them. “You’re beautiful, Harry,” you complimented, and he blushed, a soft ‘thank you’ came out of his mouth. Next was his pants, and before he was able to take his briefs off, you stopped him, telling him that you wanted to do it. 

You got off the bed, switching positions with him as you were now standing up as Harry laid down on the bed. You smiled, eyes glancing all around his body. He suddenly felt shy and intimidated under your stare, but he knew he had no reason to be because you were simply admiring him. This time around when it came to physically be vulnerable with someone, he knew he didn’t have to worry anymore when it came to you. 

You took off your lilac nightgown, exposing your body to Harry’s eyes. Your nipples had hardened due to the exposure to the cold. His eyes glimmered as he gazed at your stunning and beautiful body. Every curve and inch was something he tried to remember, and he was quite speechless at the sight. He reached out, gently grabbing your hips as he roamed his hands up your body and to your breasts, grabbing both in each of his hands. 

He looked up at you and you smiled down at him as he placed his mouth on your left pebbled nipple, sucking and licking it as his hand fondled with the other. You laced your fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp as he did so, switching over to your right nipple. 

Harry pulled away, looking at you. “You’re an actual angel. You’re so beautiful.” 

“Harry…” you blushed. 

“You are, angel. So beautiful. Can’t believe I get to see you like this.” He kissed the valley of your breasts and down your stomach before getting up and pushing you down onto the bed with ease. He settled in between your legs, arms hooked under your thighs. 

Continuing kissing down your stomach, he reached the hem of your underwear, looking up at you before asking, “Can I take these off? Wanna make you feel good—the same way you always make me feel good.” 

“Please. Take them off. Wanna feel your mouth on me,” you pleaded as your arousal heightened. You wrapped your legs around his back, eagerly pulling his head towards your center, making Harry let out a chuckle. 

“Easy, angel. Not going anywhere.” Harry kissed your stomach once more before pulling off your beige underwear. You were glistening below him; you made a complete mess in your panties. “Fuck, you’re so wet. This all for me?” 

“Mhm. All for you, Harry, please,” you whispered impatiently. Harry’s dirty talk had only increased your need for him as it was quite surprising to see this side of him since he was more on the shy and reserved side outside, but nonetheless, you loved both sides—you loved him. 

Harry leaned down, pressing multiple kisses to your inner thighs, nibbling on the skin gently. You bucked your hips as he trailed his kisses towards your pussy that was eagerly waiting to be touched and licked. When he got there, he pressed a kiss to your clit before kitten-licking your sensitive button, making you softly moan. 

His tongue licked into the entrance of your pussy, gathering your arousal on the tip of his tongue to lubricate your clit even more. 

“Fuck,” you groaned as your hands found his curly locks, tugging at them gently. 

“You could do that harder, I don’t mind it,” Harry told you before going back to eating you out. You pulled harder and Harry deeply groaned against you, sending vibrations up your body. 

His hands wandered around your body, feeling the softness of your skin against his hands. Your skin had formed goosebumps due to his touch, and Harry smoothed out your skin so you were warm. He sucked on your clit quite harshly, earning a moan of his name from your lips as he grabbed both of your tits in his hands, squeezing them. 

You placed your hands on top of his, squeezing them with him, and Harry almost came at the sight of that. There you were, moaning his name out, getting your pussy eaten, and squeezing your tits on top of his hands. A sight he truly was lucky enough to see. 

Harry pulled one hand away to rub your clit as he tongued around your wet hole before tongue fucking you. He rubbed your clit at a moderate speed, enough for you to thrust your hips off the bed. Harry pulled his other hand that was still on one of your breasts away to pin your hips down onto the bed. 

“Stay still for me, angel,” he instructed, voice deep that made you even wetter. “You taste so good. Could eat you out all day.” 

“Harry…” you trailed, whining desperately for your release. “W-Wanna…cum…need to.” Your sentences were broken and Harry thought that was a good sign, knowing that he was doing so well you couldn’t form a proper sentence. 

“Tell me what you need. Let me know, so I can get you there.” 

“F-Fingers,” you told him, and he immediately brought his fingers to your clit, rubbing it before inserting two fingers inside your pussy. He thrust slowly, curling his fingers up to feel your walls.

He felt you pulsing around him as your legs were wrapped tightly around his back as you screamed his name over and over again. 

“C’mon, love. Give me one,” he encouraged, thrusting his fingers a bit faster. 

Once he hit the spot over and over again, you saw stars. Your vision had gone white for a few seconds, and you felt dizzy. The pleasure that ran through your body was overwhelming in the best way possible and you choked out a few sobs. It had hit you like a brick that you saw coming, but you were still surprised and shocked by the impact. 

Your hands held Harry’s hair tight that he thought for a moment that you might actually rip it off. Harry rubbed your pussy as you came down from your high, licking your orgasm that was seeping through your cunt, taking every drop of it. He looked up to see your head thrown back, chest heaving, and a vein that was bulging against your skin. He kissed your thighs while his other hand trailed across your body. 

When you finally were able to catch your breath, Harry kissed up your body, leaving the softest and loving kisses to your skin as you were quite sensitive. You grabbed his face, bringing his lips to yours as you immediately stuck your tongue in his mouth, swirling it with his to taste yourself on him—a mixture of his taste and your orgasm all on his tongue had made you wetter. 

Harry was grinding himself against your leg, trying to relieve some pressure. 

“Want you,” you told him once he pulled away, looking at him intently. 

“You sure?” 

“Absolutely. Please? Only if you want to-”

“I definitely want to. Just wanna make sure you were sure,” he breathed out a chuckle. 

“Course I want to.” There was a bit of silence between you two as you were simply just admiring him as he hovered over you. “Are you gonna fuck me, Harry?” You broke the silence, and Harry broke out of his trance, shyly giggling before getting off the bed. 

He peeled away his briefs, cock standing straight up from the slight painful restraint. He was big—girth and length wise, and you felt your mouth salivating from just looking at him. He got back on the bed, in between your legs as he sat on his knees. Spitting on his hand, he grabbed a hold of his dick, stroking it to relieve the pressure. The view was beautiful in every single way possible, and you didn’t dare to bat an eye because you didn’t want to miss one second of it. 

Wanting to take over for him, you reached forward, replacing his hand with yours as you slowly stroked his cock for him. Harry had a smug smile on his face but soon changed into a face of pure pleasure as your hand worked against him. His mouth was open as he let out a soft moan, looking down at your eyes as you were looking up, completely loving his reaction to your touch. 

“You’re so pretty, Harry,” you complimented as you continued to touch him. Your other hand reached forward to fondle with his balls, rolling them into your hand as Harry whimpered. “Love seeing you like this. Most gorgeous man I’ve seen in my life.” 

“Please, angel, you’re being too nice…” he managed to groan out, hands gripping your thighs. 

“But it’s true. Look so pretty when you’re like this, but also when you’re hitting the heavy bags. When we go out to eat and you mindlessly drink your entire drink while waiting for the food. But I think you’ll look extra pretty than you already are if you cum.” Your words of declaration were getting him on the edge as you stroke him. The way your voice slightly changed as you looked up at him with the most innocent eyes made him thrust into your hand, gripping the flesh of your skin as he threw his head back. 

“You think so?” 

“Mhm. Gonna be so pretty when you cum all over my body, my tits. Can you do that? For me, can you do that? Please?” You were completely begging for it, but even with all the begging, he knew that you had all the control right now. 

Your feet rubbed his calves up and down, and it was the simplest touch, but it heightened Harry’s need to let go. 

“Wanna cum for you, yeah.” His breaths were heavy and harsh as your touch was focused on his tip, wrapping your delicate hands around the head where he was most sensitive. 

Harry’s moans stuttered as a series of profanities slipped from his lips, spilling onto your stomach and breasts. You smiled to yourself as you studied his face when he came undone; his mouth was open, occasionally biting his lip, and eyes shut closed as his head was thrown back—he was the most beautiful person you’d ever seen, and the fact that you got to see him like this was an honor. 

When he came down from his high, he slowly opened his eyes, meeting yours, staring right at him. You smirked, body covered in his orgasm, and he thought that was a picture worth taking. You were gorgeous covered in his pleasure that you caused, and you seemed to love it too since you made no effort to wipe it off. 

Boldly, he leaned down, dragging his tongue from your stomach to your tit, spending the most time on your breasts as he nibbled and licked your nipples, collecting his orgasm from your skin and held it on the tip of his tongue until he reached your mouth. You willingly opened your mouth as his tongue delved right in, feeding you his cum. 

You two passionately kissed, tasting him ever so sensually. You moaned into his mouth, thinking about how the sight of Harry licking his orgasm off of your body was the sexiest thing you’d ever seen. With your hips jerking up, you felt yourself getting wet again and in need to release once more. 

You whimpered, pulling away. “Please. Need you so bad.” Harry nodded, agreeing. 

“Condom?” He asked, and you immediately reached over to your bedside table, ripping open the condom before rolling it onto his dick that was still hard. 

Harry curled in his lips, watching you. You gave him a few extra strokes for good measure, earning a soft moan from his mouth. He took his length in his hand, running the tip up and down your slit, collecting your arousal and lubricating his cock. He gave you one last look and you nodded before he slowly pushed in, indulging in your wetness and softness. 

A moan came out of both of your mouths, feeling completely full and warm for one another with the stretch Harry had on you. He planted his elbows on both sides of you, holding himself up over you as he slowly began to thrust. 

“Fuck,” he groaned. “Feel so good for me.” He placed a kiss on your lips as he whispered. He found a rhythm as he started to move faster, rocking his hips against yours, making you moan. 

It was a feeling like no other, and it was the amount of love you two had for one another that made this experience much more special. Love was practically oozing out of both of your veins, filling the room to its maximum capacity as the both of you moaned out in pleasure. 

You wrapped your legs around his waist and your arms looped around his back, hugging him closer to you as if he couldn’t get closer. You whined into his ear, the sounds of your pleasure were music to his eyes, sending a shiver down his body, making him jerk. But that jolt had hit your g-spot, and you screamed out in ecstasy. 

“Right there. Keep doing that. Keep fucking me,” you managed to say. Harry maintained his pace, going deeper, and fucking you into oblivion as you kept crying and screaming his name out. 

Harry’s lips attached to your neck, nibbling and licking your skin, leaving a few decent size love bites that he was sure to admire when they’d fully formed. Your nails had raked down his back, leaving a burning but pleasurable sting down his skin, letting him know that he was doing an amazing job. 

“You like that?” He groaned into your ear, leaving chills rising onto your skin. 

“Mhm. Just like that. Don’t stop. I-I’m so close.” You threw your head back into the pillows, and Harry took the opportunity to attack your exposed neck with kisses again. Your hands found Harry’s hair, tugging at his curls as he kissed you. That encouraged him to fuck you harder and faster, repeatedly hitting your special spot. “O-Oh…” 

“Come on, angel love. Cum for me, please. Wanna see you make a mess around me,” he encouraged you. 

With a few more thrusts, you were done. You had fully and completely released around him as your orgasm hit you like a ton of bricks. Your vision had gone white for a few seconds, head dizzy, and your breaths were caught in your throat as your hips involuntarily jolted, meeting his thrusts that were fucking you through your high. 

Harry started to thrust sloppily, burying his face in your neck as he spilled into the condom. His hot breath was against your skin as he started to slow down, coming down from his orgasm. 

The room was silent as the only sounds present were the heavy breaths and the post-orgasmic whimpers coming from your mouth as you two held one another. Your nails gently scratched down his back, contrasting to the desperate and needy scratches that you had given him just a few minutes ago. 

Harry lifted his head up, meeting your eyes before connecting his lips against yours, tongue meeting first before your lips moved in sync so passionately and lovingly that you both unspokenly agreed to never taste another pair of lips again. 

“I love you so much,” Harry said, resting his chin on your chest. 

You smiled down at him, eyes gleaming as you looked at your love, your entire heart, the man that had stolen your breath and heart just by one look. 

“And I love you too.” 

Waking up to the warmth of the body next to you was your favorite thing in the morning—had been for six months now. The sight next to you was something you wouldn’t get used to as you always found yourself feeling so lucky every single time you woke up next to him. 

But a pout formed onto your face when you saw that the space next to you was empty. The crinkled yellow sheets were left, missing a certain person that you had been excited to see this morning since you closed your eyes the night prior. 

Turning over to your bedside table, you grabbed your pager, seeing if you had any messages, and one specifically stood out to you, making you sleepily smile at your pager. 

“Goodmorning, angel,” Harry greeted as he stood in the doorway of your bedroom. He was wearing a gray sweatsuit, holding a white paper bag in one hand and a smoothie tray, that held two smoothies, in the other hand with a loving smile plastered on his face, making his dimples poke out. 

“Mm. Hi, darling.” Your arms reached forward, gesturing him to come to you, and he gladly did, situating himself on your body as you wrapped your arms around him. 

You two stayed like that for a moment, basking in the presence and gratitude of one another. It was nice until your stomach started growling, making Harry chuckle. 

“C’mon, gotta feed my girl before we head to the gym.” He got off of you, helping you up and out of the bed before helping you make the bed. He walked over to the kitchen before you went to the restroom, and when you walked out, Harry had your breakfast set on a plate. 

You two made light conversation, mostly enjoying the silence and tastiness of the food before you got ready to go to the gym. 

When you walked into Don’s Box, you were immediately greeted by a few of the members, giving you high fives, as well as saying hi to Harry. The entire gym had found out you two were together when they started to notice Harry coming into the gym almost every day and staying until the gym closed, so a few people had their speculations. Don was certain you two would get together from the very beginning, and he had told you that the only reason he was trying to act intimidating when Harry first walked in was that he sensed that something would happen, and he was right, something did happen. 

Benny was ecstatic; jokingly telling Harry that he could now spend time with his wife since you had taken all of Harry’s time now, which Benny earned a push from Harry towards the ropes of the ring. Benny’s wife was also pregnant and wanted Harry to be the godfather, which Harry immediately took on that responsibility and role. But that also meant since you and Harry were planning on staying together for the long run, you were becoming a godmother as well, which you were very excited about. 

You climbed up into the ring as Harry followed. You had a day off, and no one needed your attention other than Harry, so you helped him put on his gloves after you wrapped his hands in tape, and you put on your mitts, making sure they were tight before clapping the mitts together—Harry punched his gloves together, making sure they were comfortable. 

You raised your brows at him teasingly. “Ready, darling?” 

“Ready as always, my angel,” he responded, and you smirked. 

“Give me a good one. Give me 1.” 

talk to me about your favorite moments, your thoughts and feelings about this pls! thank you for reading <3

[shotorozu]

writing letters

character(s) : midoriya izuku, bakugou katsuki, todoroki shouto (bnha)

PART TWO | PART THREE (?)

legend : [Y/N = your name] they/them pronouns used, quirk’s not specific

note(s) : how the bnha boys would write you notes/letters and when they’d do so! this also includes headcanons of their handwriting, and examples of their letters (without visuals, because of the image limit)

— .｡*ﾟ+.*.｡ it’s my birthday (part 2) ˚✧₊⁎

»»————-　♡　————-««

midoriya izuku

↛ his hand writing is quite rounded, sometimes messy— but most of the time, it’s alright. izuku usually writes at the center of each column. he occasionally hooks his y’s and g’s (think of what the cursive form of y and g looks like)

↛ he writes you a ton of letters, sometimes for special occasions, sometimes for just no reason at all— like whenever you’re feeling downer than usual, or if he can’t see you at the moment. in reality, he only ends up sending out one. boy has a lot on his mind! i mean, izuku’s a natural writer, he’s been writing about heroes for as long as he could remember in middle school. green boy loves you so much, he could write you an entire novel just filled with the nicest words of affirmations, and he could write sequels stacked ontop of more sequels! but,, he’s hesitant on sending you a lot all at once, or even sending you a lot in just a span of one week, because he’s scared of coming off as stalkerish or too obsessed.

hi Y/N!

work study has been busier than usual, and i’ve been wanting to see you check on you. but sadly, i really couldn’t see you as much as i could. i’m so sorry again! but ok, okay! moving on to the reason why im writing this letter in the first place.

i love you i hope you’re doing well :) even though i can’t really see you at the moment, and even when i’m busy at this work study with kacchan, i hope you’re eating, sleeping, and doing well!

i hope you’re thinking about me, as much as im thinking about you :)

— love, izuku <3

bakugou katsuki

↛ surprisingly, his handwriting isn’t the worst thing in the world. it’s decent, and definitely legible. the edges are sharp though— it definitely suits him.

↛ thinks he has no reason to be writing you letters, and he says that because he— as an individual, prefers telling the things he needs to say to you to your face. so, the chance of him writing you letters is pretty slim. katsuki’s not a fan of the idea of hiding behind some ‘stupid’ letter, with the ‘stupid’ inking and ‘stupid’ paper. but then, he hears that some people tend to appreciate handwritten letters ever so often, especially when they’re feeling particularly down. he rolls his eyes at this new profound information, but he takes a mental note of it. even though he could just tell you the words he means to say over and over again, katsuki ends up pushing through with it anyway.

hey, dumbass.

yeah, me writing letters? you thought i’d never in a million years, huh? wrong. super wrong. have you forgotten that i’m a man of a million talents? anyways. shitty ha kirishima told me that writing you a letter would make you feel less shitty, and he’s not completely wrong. he says the weirdest shit, but he makes sense here and there.

look, you do know that i don’t mean any of the shit i say, right? i don’t wanna come back and see you all sulky and pouty, because you know that i don’t actually mean it when i call you that. sometimes i wish you’d fucking yell at me, because you’re not a doormat. then again, you’re my dumbass anyway. never let anyone tell you otherwise

— katsuki.

todoroki shouto

↛ there he is, the love of my life <3 moving aside, his handwriting is pretty neat. not too round, and not too sharp— if there’s an absolute balance, then shouto’s handwriting would probably be just that (his writing isn’t like a font though, and bonus! aizawa has the easiest time checking his papers during written exams)

↛ he probably sends you letters the most, out of all of the characters i’ve wrote about, or will write about. usually, he writes you a letter once or twice a week, even when you’re in the same vicinity as him. however— if you’re away for like,, a work study, or for a family holiday across town, and for quite some time, he’ll end up writing you 4-5 letters a week, depending on the duration of your stay away. he’s quite used to writing letters, since he practically writes his mom whenever he can— you could even say that this is a love language of his, from the way that his words are precise, and nothing short of being sweet and just,, filled with words derived purely from the heart. in his opinion, he doesn’t mind telling you how he feels face to face, but he also doesn’t mind writing letters. he just,, needs to tell you how he feels!

my love,

it’s been a while. i know, and i do want to apologize for that. we.. haven’t been able to see each other, due to the work study with the old man. it’s excruciating to say the least, just thinking about not seeing you for days upon days. i haven’t touched, seen, or spoken to you in person for way too long. and i feel like you might’ve babied me for quite some time, since i can’t even imagine a week without you. but it’s impossible. you’re so delectable, and you’re for sore eyes. i can only yearn for your touch for how much longer.

lastly, i just want you to remember that i love you. i love you, i love you, i love you. i should probably start making the closing point of this letter. before endeavor comes in, and starts looming over my shoulder like the old man he is. i’ll write about that old fart another time, don’t you fret just yet, love.

— with ever lasting love, shouto todoroki <3

»»————-　♡　————-««

likes and reblogs are appreciated, thanks for reading!

i do not own bnha/mha and it’s characters. boku no hero academia/my hero academia belongs to horikoshi kohei, i only own the writing and i do not profit off of my hobby

do not plagiarize, reupload, translate, or use my works for audio readings without permission

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Loss

Summary: Your husband had to learn a lesson. That he would have to sacrifice your marriage by losing a bet to August Walker seemed something he just accepted. That he would lose you to August in that process wasn’t something he expected. 

Pairing: August Walker x F!Reader

Wordcount: 3.8k

Warnings: gonna tag this as dub con to be safe, also: soft August (yeah just as surprising to me as it is to you) smut (Oral; female receiving, protected sex), mentions of a miscarriage, infedelity 

A/N: It’s been a hot minute. I’ve had this idea a while ago, but only now had the motivation to finish it. Hope you enjoy this wiiiiiild August journey

Masterlist

Taglist in reblog

Looking at your husband you tried to make sense of the words that had just come out of his mouth. You had been thinking about divorcing him before. He just wasn’t the man you had fallen in love with all these years ago. You didn’t care for luxury. You wanted the man back that you fell in love with. The man who stayed up with you at night, watching the stars, reading to you until you fell asleep.

The man was long gone.

He changed once you had moved to the states. His suits got more and more expensive and the time he spends with you got less and less. His answer for everything seemed to be to throw money at it. You had a big collection of jewelry, shoes, art, you name it. But all you wanted was him. At least you used to until you found out just exactly how he made his money.

Selling weapons on the black market.

“You lost a bet. And you bet me? What the fuck is wrong with you? I’m not your whore, I’m your wife.” you shook your head.

“Look I need you to do this one thing for me and then I’ll give you everything you want, honey.” He said exhausted, not looking you in the eye. You sucked your bottom lip in, your body shaking with rage.

“You want me to fuck a man I’ve never met before? And you’re okay with it? Just like that?” You fought back the tears threatening to escape. He didn’t look at you.

“I’ll make it up to you. Everything you want.” He said quietly. He would get you anything you wanted? Fine.

“Everything I want?” you asked to be sure.

“Everything.” he nodded, finally looking at you. Almost 15 years ago you had looked into his green eyes for the first time. You always thought these would be the eyes of the man you would grow old with. But now all you felt was a disappointment.

“Fine. One night with me for this Mr. Walker for everything I want from you.”

This was really happening. It was a week later, you were sitting in your bedroom, looking at your reflection in the mirror. Your husband had instructed you to wear the sexiest lingerie you owned. Shaking your head you heard a knock at the door.

“You ready?” your husband asked. You looked at him in the mirror. Even now he couldn’t meet your eyes.

“Don’t you feel the tiniest bit of guilt at whoring out your wife to some shady men you made business with?” you asked.

“I’m sorry…” he said quietly. Closing your eyes you got up from your seat, pulling the long silk robe you were wearing closer around your body. You wouldn’t be sleeping with the man. Not in a million years. But that didn’t mean that you weren’t gonna make your husband feel bad about it.

Stopping next to him you patted his chest.

“Maybe he knows how to make me cum,” you whispered against his ear before you walked out into the living room.

You always loved this house. It reminded you of your parent’s home. It was warm and you had spent so much time decorating it. Now, sitting on the sofa as your beloved husband welcomed the man he had practically sold you to, all you felt was cold. This hasn’t been a home for a long time.

Nursing the glass of champagne you ignored your surroundings, your mind trying to figure out when the last time was your husband had actually talked to you. When did it all go downhill? Even in the beginning when he started working with these shady people he had always made sure you were happy. You wanted to have a baby. That you were pregnant at some point but lost the child before the third month was something the two of you had never talked about after it happened. Only you and your therapist knew how much you mourned the loss of your unborn child.

“Mr. Walker, this is my wife,” you heard your husband say. Well... Showtime you joked to yourself, emptying the glass of champagne before you turned your head to look at the man who had entered the room.

“I know,” the man said quietly, his eyes not leaving yours. You knew him. He had been over a few times. You had never spoken to him, but sometimes it was like you could feel his eyes on you. He was tall, dark curls framing his face, but it was his eyes, that captured you. The light blue a contrast to the darkness that seemed to surround him. You didn’t get why he was wearing a mustache but somehow it seemed right.

“Mr. Walker,” you nodded and he held out his hand that you took, helping you up before he leaned down, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand. He released your hand, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips as you swallowed the knot that had formed in your throat.

“Pleasure,” he winked and you breathed in deep. His eyes didn’t leave your face and you had almost forgotten that you weren’t alone when your husband coughed behind you.

“Scotch, Mr. Walker?” he asked. August shook his head.

“No. I’m not here to drink.”

“Did you forget your whored me out already?” you asked, looking at your husband before you walked past both of the men towards your bedroom.

“Honey…” he warned. You shrugged.

“Come on, Mr. Walker. I think we wasted enough time already.” You said over your shoulder, not waiting as you made your way down the hallway.

You left the door open, your confidence shrinking the further you went into the bedroom. Sucking your bottom lip in you knew that you wouldn’t stand a chance if August Walker would want to have sex with you. A shiver ran over your body and you jumped as the door clicked close behind you.

Slowly you turned around, looking at the man that leaned at the door. You were about to open your mouth to ask him how on earth he would think about even suggesting something like this when he sighed.

“I’m not here to fuck you. I’m merely here so that your husband learns his lesson.” He pushed himself from the door walking to the sofa that was in front of the big window overlooking the ocean. You watched him, as he sat down, taking out his phone, and began to read.

Unsure on how to proceed you sat down on your bed with a loud sigh. He merely looked up at you, a small smile on his lips before he focused back on his phone. That gave you time to look at him.

You had noticed him before when he came by, always wearing the most expensive suits. He always seemed calm, spoke quietly which made him somehow more dangerous.

“Is this something you do often?” you asked, hugging your knees, making sure you were covered by the robe you were wearing. He looked up, one eyebrow raised.

“Teaching people lessons?” You added sarcastically.

“Only if they think they can make a fool out of me. Usually, my lesson involves a more… physical approach, but I didn’t want you to suffer through his recovery.” He set his phone down on the sofa next to him.

“Maybe you should pick something he loves more than me to teach a lesson then. Like his scotch.” You rolled your eyes.

“He loves you.” Mr. Walker said. You chuckled.

“Yeah. Clearly he does. Mr. Walker would you let any other man lay a hand on the woman you love?” you asked. He looked at you and there was something in his eyes you couldn’t name. Longing? Desperation?

“I would kill the man who even dared to suggest such thing.” He said quietly, his eyes not leaving yours. You ignored the shiver that ran down your back. “And please call me August.”

“Well then, August,” you had to smile a little. “How does this work? How long am I to be at your pretend mercy?”

“I do like to take my time when I’m with a beautiful woman. So make yourself comfortable.” He winked and you rolled your eyes.

“Pretty full of yourself, huh?”

“I never had any complaints,” he shrugged.

“Ever thought people had been too scared to actually complain?” You tried to hide your smile, as August chuckled, shaking his head before he got up and slowly took off his suit jacket.

“I’d like to think the women I fuck are too satisfied to complain.” He folded the jacket, letting it hang over the sofa.

“Well if that’s the case I envy these women…” you whispered. He still stood there, in all his wide-shouldered glory, looking at you. Slowly you sat yourself up, crossing your legs as you lean with your hands back on the bed, supporting your upper body.

“You have a loving husband, I’m sure there’s….”

“What is it that you do August? Why did my husband get involved with you? Why… Why is everything more important to him than I am?” You shook your head. “Nevermind, don’t answer that.” You let yourself fall back on the bed, looking at the ceiling.

Minutes went by before he spoke again.

“Do you still love him?” August asked. You turned your head, seeing him still standing next to the sofa.

“I am in love with the man he once was. But the man out there? The man who asked his wife to sleep with a man because he lost a bet in some gambling? How could I love him?”

“He does love you.”

“He certainly has a funny way of showing it.” You grumbled.

“What do you miss most? About him?” August asked. You turned to your side, not caring if your robe wasn’t covering you anymore. Somehow you felt safer with August, only knowing him for an hour or so, than with the man you were married to.

“The way he used to look at me. How we could spend all night talking. How we used to not leave the bed all weekend. I miss feeling safe in his arms when we used to dance with him humming a song in the moonlight…” you closed your eyes.

“That’s a lot you miss,” August said quietly. You heard him come closer and you opened your eyes as he knelt in front of you.

“I’ve been lonely for a long time. He may love me, but I don’t think he is still in love with me. And I’m not with him.” You felt his hand on top of yours then.

“Come on.” He pulled you up from the bed and you let him.

“What?” You asked confused.

“Dance with me.”

Slowly you let him guide you to the middle of your bedroom, his hand holding yours until he stopped. Shuddering you breathed out before you looked up at him. His thumb rubbed circles over the back of your hand and like you had done it a million times before your other hand curled in the back of his neck. He was so close. He closed his eyes at your touch, breathing in deep, before his other hand came to rest on your back, slowly pushing you against him, before he began to lead you into a slow dance.

His eyes opened just when you decided to rest your head on his shoulder. Your fingers played with the hair in his neck and you may have imagined it, but you felt him shiver. You breathed him in, feeling a little dizzy feeling someone so close again. He kissed the top of your head.

“I wanted you since the first time I saw you almost a year ago,” he whispered. “You didn’t even know I was there when you were outside in the garden. I think you were cutting some flowers, wearing a blue summer dress. I watched you instead of listening to your husband who was trying to sell me god knows what.” You closed your eyes, letting him talk.

“He doesn’t deserve you. Fuck I don’t think I deserve you. But I couldn’t stop thinking about you and when he lost everything he had with him at the poker table I did the first thing that popped into my mind.”

You breathed in deep. Slowly his hand on your back had wandered lower, stopping just above the curve of your ass. You shivered.

“He told me I can get everything I want when I do this, you, for him.” You said quietly. “So to get what I want you to have to take what you want.” You looked up at him, seeing the storm in his eyes.

“How is the man that supposed to love me learn his lesson if he doesn’t suffer?”

“Don’t…” he growled.

“He thinks you’re fucking me, August,” you got on your tiptoes, whispering in his ear.

“Don’t you think he should hear how you fuck me too?” He released a breath, his hand finally running down, grabbing your ass as he pulled you even closer.

“I won’t be leaving his house without you afterward,” he said, making sure to look into your eyes.

“That’s good, cause I don’t want to stay here with him afterward.”

He closed his eyes, his hand releasing yours after he gently lay it down on his shoulder. He reached for your face, tilting your chin up before opening his eyes.

“How long?” he asked, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip.

“How long hasn’t he touched you?” August leaned down, kissing your forehead, your temple, your eyes.

“At least a year…” you breathed out, melting against him.

“Fuck…” he cursed before his lips crashed down on yours. His hand caressed your face, pulling you closer as you held on to him. You parted your lips, moaning when his tongue slipped into your mouth. He tasted dark and dangerous and you didn’t want to live without tasting him ever again.

He tugged on the belt holding your robe together, pushing it off your shoulder as your fingers slowly unbuttoned his dress shirt.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he groaned against your lips before his mouth wandered down, kissing your jaw, your neck, your collarbone. Pushing his shirt off his shoulders when you finished unbuttoning it your hands pulled his head down to kiss his lips.

“I want you on the bed. Legs spread,” he whispered, his voice deep and you whimpered as you turned away from him, walking over to the bed to lay down. You watched him, as he opened his pants, pushing them down, getting his shoes off in the process. One of your hands ran down your body, slipping in between your legs. You couldn’t remember the last time you had been this wet. Rubbing slow circles over your still clothed clit you bit your lip as you watched him come over.

“Show me how wet this pussy is for me,” he demanded hoarsely. You bit your lip as he knelt on the bed in front of you. Pushing your panties to the side you heard him groan.

“Fucking soaked. Touch yourself,” he grabbed your ankle, slowly kissing up your leg as you teased yourself, wanting nothing more than his mouth on you. You cried out, when he playfully bit the inside of your thigh, both of his hands parting your legs wider.

“Make him hear you,” he smirked before his tongue licked through your slit. You threw your head back, your hands grabbing the bedsheet beneath you. He nibbled and sucked, his tongue driving your sheer insane.

“There… Right there…” you grabbed his hair, grinding your hips against his mouth. You felt one of his hands ran up your body as he looked up at you, his lips sucking on your clit. He pushed two of his fingers into your mouth, you sucked hard and almost biting him. He chuckled against you, his fingers leaving your mouth only to bring them down to your pussy as he released your clit.

“You gonna cum for me?” His fingers lazily circled your clit before he slowly pushed them into you. You parted your lips, breathing loudly, trying to maintain eye contact until he angled his fingers.

“Fuck August,” you cried out, surprised by the wave of pleasure that shot through your body.

“There it is…” he grinned. You moaned when he focused on that spot inside of you.

“I need…” you began only to moan loudly when his tongue was back on your clit. Your eyes flew open, your hands grabbing his thick hair.

“I’m gonna cum…” you cried out, moaning loudly when your orgasm washed over you, your legs shaking, your thighs caging August in between your legs. He moaned against you, devouring you like you were his last meal, his fingers fucking you through your orgasm until it became too much and you whimpered, pushing him gently away.

“Fuck me…” you whimpered, trying to normalize your breathing.

“That’s the plan,” he teased, grinning down at you.

“Fuck you,” you chuckled.

“Yeah, that too.”

You shook your head with a smile. He kissed up your body, stopping at your bra.

“Let’s get you naked so I can fuck you.” You sat up, letting him take off your bra. He pushed you down into the mattress, kissing the valley of your boobs as his other hand slowly pushed your panties down.

“I want you inside of me,” you pulled at his hair, earning a moan from him. “And I don’t want you to be gentle.”

“Careful what you ask for, princess.”

“I want to feel you every time I sit down in the next days. I won’t break…”

“At least not today,” he winked before he pushed his boxers down. You bit your lip as he stroked his cock. It was bigger than any you had before.

“Condom?” you asked. He nodded, jumping off the bed to get to his pants.

“So you weren’t planning on this happening, huh?” You raised your eyebrow as he walked over, pulling the condom over his cock.

“Wishful thinking.” He slapped your thigh, hard and you whimpered.

“You liked that huh?” He slapped you again. You moaned, turning on the bed to get on your hands and knees.

“Don’t be gentle,” you reminded him, wiggling your ass as you looked at him over your shoulder. His eyes seemed to darken as his hands landed on your hips, pulling you towards him as if you weighed nothing.

“Say the word and I’ll stop,” he said before he entered you in one hard thrust.

“FUCK!” you cried out loudly.

“Still sure you don’t want me to be gentle?” He asked close to your ear as he bends down, his teeth pulling at your earlobe.

“Do your worst,” you clenched your inner muscles making him curse. He slapped your ass, hard.

“You’re such a bad girl, princess. What am I gonna do with you?” He kissed down your back before he pulled out and entered you again. You didn’t get time to answer when he began to fuck you. Deep and hard, just how you liked it. His fingers would leave bruises on your hips from the way he held you and you would wear these marks with pride.

“Such a tight fucking pussy. I knew you’d be the death of me…” he groaned. You let yourself fall on your elbows, the change of angle making you see stars.

“Shit I want to cum inside of this pussy. Mark you from the inside so every fucking man on this planet knows your mine…” He slapped your ass and you whimpered his name. It never felt like that. Sex never felt that good…

“I’m yours. All yours…” you moaned, your head pressed into the mattress to lower your moans. You felt him pull at your hair.

“No. Let me hear you. Let him hear what he lost when he put his job in front of the woman he loves.” One of his arms pulled your upper body up against his chest, his hand holding one of your boob

s as he fucked into you.

“August…” you cried out.

“That’s it. Cum for me.” He thrust faster, holding you close and pulled at your nipple. Your orgasm took you by surprise, like a tidal wave spreading over your whole body and August fucked you through it following you only moments later, biting into your shoulder, marking you as his.

You stayed there, in his arms, his cock still deep inside of you, the only noise in the room your heavy breathing. He kissed your shoulder softly, his lips wandering up to your neck until you turned your head and he kissed you.

“You really wanna get out of here?” He asked.

“If you’ll have me?”

August was standing next to the two suitcases you had packed that contained only some clothes you would need. You made sure to wear a strapless top so your husband could see the marks August had left on you. Your wedding band and engagement ring lay on your side of the bed.

“Ready?” August asked quietly. He was standing at the door. You nodded, taking one last look before you opened the door. Your husband was sitting across the door at the wall, staring up at you as you stepped out.

“Everything I want?” You said. He nodded with a small relieved smile until August stepped out of the door and you made sure your husband saw that you weren’t wearing your wedding band when you took August’s hand.

You looked down at him, seeing his face fall. Once upon a time you had loved this man. But this was before he had willingly sold you. Before he had neglected you. Before he had ignored you.

“Everything I want,” you squeezed August’s hand as you looked at your husband, seeing him nod slowly. You took one suitcase and August the other, bigger one. You saw your husband’s eyes wander up your body, stopping at the bite mark on your shoulder.

“Everything you want,” your husband said with a sad expression.

“Consider your debt paid,” August said, before he squeezed your hand. You looked at him then, his eyes on you and you couldn’t help but smile.

You didn’t know that this would be the beginning of something you had been searching for all your life. A life with a man at your side who would always put you first. And who would let the whole world burn before any other man would have the chance to even think about touching what was his.

[highdramas]

steady now | b.b.

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝'𝐬 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader

warnings: language, possible tfatws spoilers, mention of death? sort of? mention of the blip mostly, some angst, references to sexxxx babie

word count: 4.3k wowie

summary: bucky is not the only one with amends to make.

note: here’s another installment in the twalb story <3 again, you don’t have to read these in order, they stand independently, but they do all work together! PLEASE leave feedback/reblog! this is extremely helpful for me writing future parts to know what everyone likes or doesn’t like! i’m extremely proud of this part so i really hope that you all enjoy it as much as i’ve enjoyed writing it <3

enjoy! <3

there was once a time where you loved california.

there was once a time where you had a boyfriend with an easy smile and charming demeanor and a family in ventura. his name was felix, and you always told people that he could make anyone fall in love with him with nothing but that stupid smile of him-- of course, you never said how that upset you. you never said how it hurt when the waitress looked at him with dazzling eyes and how he seemed to relish in the attention.

you never voiced how he seemed to eventually bore of the attention that you gave him. you never voiced the way that you wished he would look at you with those dazzling eyes and give you that breezy laughter and that look that said i have you in the palm of my hand.

he did. he didn’t need to give you that look to know that.

sometimes, you wonder if he felt any sort of relief after the blip. you wonder if when you dusted right before him, if he felt like he won in some sick way. of course, you know that he would never admit that. he would never make that known to anyone. maybe even himself. but subconsciously… you wonder if you were simply an accessory that was worn out of convenience, and if your fading from reality was the biggest convenience at all.

it’s sick. you know it’s sick, and likely not true. but still. you wonder.

when you returned, the first thing that you did when you got your hands on a cell phone was call him. you called him and you cried and you said that you were okay, you were here. you asked him what the hell happened. you asked him if it had really been five years.

you heard a voice in the background. it was feminine, light, airy. the voice of a fairy. you’ll never forget hearing that voice. you learned later that she was his fiance.

you’ll never forget the sort of heartbreak that you felt. it was visceral. the knowing-- the knowing that it wasn’t your fault, it wasn’t anything that you did. it was merely the absence of you. you still wonder how long he mourned. you wonder how long it took. you saw him only a handful of times after you returned. he had cried, and you had stared, unsure what to say.

how do you apologize for fading from existence?

that was the first time you saw him. the second was worse.

the second, you were angry. you were angry and you lashed out. what was supposed to be an easy dinner turned into an explosion of tears and fury, the words this isn’t fair and what was i supposed to do? wait for you? and so desperately you had wanted to say yes. you wanted to say that you wished he had held out hope, that he stayed up and dreamt of you and that he was devoted.

it was a selfish thought. he had told you politely to not contact him again.

you had learned that he had moved back to ventura with his fairy girlfriend from some casual facebook stalking. they bought a house on the coast. they’re planning a wedding.. she is beautiful, and you noticed something from the pictures you see of them together right away. he looks at her not like he was charming her, but like she was charming him.

that’s what made you realize he was never yours to begin with.

now, you’re in california again. now, bucky sits beside you and he drives and you control the music. now, he looks at you like you have hung the stars in the sky and propped up the moon. and you look at him the same way.

bucky has amends to make, but so do you.

when he reaches over and places his hand on your thigh, you smile. you place your hand over his and you squeeze. you’d insisted that you two rent a convertible, and though he rolled his eyes, he obliged. you drive down the pch and it is april and the sun is warm and inviting but not abrasive. he wears sunglasses and he doesn’t wear the gloves. he wears a short sleeved shirt.

it’s enough to make you smile and lay your hand back against the seat and make you think: everything happened just the way it should.

bucky is here to extend his amends to the chaplin family. well… really, he’s here to set them up with the CIA. they’ve been hydra sympathizers for years.

you, on the other hand, are here to extend amends of your own.

bucky knows. bucky knows and he watched you recall the story with tears blurring your vision. you would hiccup and say, “i’m sorry. i’m not sad over him, not anymore. i’m just sad that i could be forgotten so easily.”

he had held your face in his hands and he swiped at your tears and he said, “you’re impossible to forget.”

at first, when you brought up coming with him, he had been hesitant. his endeavors with the amends and with sam, he tends to like keeping separate. you get it. you know he doesn’t want to put you anywhere near the danger that he encounters, even if that maddens you. but then, your face fell and you held out the wedding invitation that had arrived in your mailbox. “i want to go.”

bucky takes it and he studies it and he clenches his jaw. he looks at you through his lashes. “i’m going with you.”

now, the wedding is in three days. you wonder if he was surprise when you sent in your rsvp marked yes. you were surprised that he invited you at all.

once, you remember him saying to you, “sometimes, you have to extend olive branches. you’re too damn stubborn for your own good.”

this is your olive branch.

bucky squeezes your thigh and his thumb makes small circles and it instills a calm in you that you haven’t felt since you stepped foot on the plane. he glances over at you. “we don’t have to go.” this isn’t the first time that he’s said this. “we can stay in our hotel all week. i’m sure we can find something to do.”

your jaw drops and you look over at him and he has that smug look on his face. it’s been nice, watching him slip into ease with you. “you are such a pig.”

“i’m just saying, we have options.”

you laugh and you swat his hand away. he grins and he places it on the head rest, his fingers idly playing with a few strands of your hair that blow in the wind as he drives. you pull up to the hotel and you check in and bucky carries all of your bags, which you try to object, but he simply does not care. you fall back onto the mattress and he follows suit and he presses his lips to yours, presses them to your pulse point, your jaw. he whispers against your skin that you are beautiful. he whispers against your skin that you’re an angel.

angel. he always calls you that.

hours pass and you spend most of them beneath bucky, breathless. eventually it is the middle of the night and you have done nothing but fuck and you’ll be the first one to admit that they were hours well spent. he’s propped up on an elbow and he looks down at you, dewy and heavy lidded. “why’d you want to come out here? to the wedding?”

you can’t help but laugh. “that’s what you want to talk about right now?”

he blushes, moves to hide his face, but you beam and you place your hand on the side of his face. you push yourself up and sit criss cross, holding the sheet to your body, facing him. he follows suit.

the two of you do this back home. whether you’re sitting on the living room floor or in bed. it’s easier to talk in the dark, bucky once said. you’d never forgotten. so, this became a sort of unspoken ritual. you would sit with your knees brushing and you would talk and you would laugh and you never wanted this to change.

“i guess i don’t know why i wanted to come.” you reach for his hand and he offers it to you. you run your fingers along the golden grooves, and you swear that you see the hairs on his opposite arm begin to stand up. “i didn’t want to be seen as the bitter ex. i hate-- i hate being perceived. you know? like, i can’t control how anyone views me. i can’t control them thinking i’m crazy or irrational. but… they don’t know anything at all.” bucky’s eyes never leave you. “i wanted to come because i feel like i’m ready to face it. the truth of it. i don’t feel fearful of it all. i used to feel so… gross. gross about how i reacted and how i felt. i felt so selfish. but now…” you can’t help but smile a little bit and you touch the place on his chest where his heart lies in his ribcage. “i’m glad for it. all of it. it’s stupid, but… it brought me here.” you lean your palm into his chest just slightly more. he covers your hand with his and he pulls you in, your hand splayed out on him.

bucky is softening before you. so often you are the one who offers an ear and a comforting touch, but he is happy to repay the favor whenever you need it. “you’re too strong all the time.” his words are definitive, with no room for arguing. “you were hurting. you’re allowed to hurt. you didn’t have a choice in missing out on five years while the world went on without you.”

of course, you know he’s right, but it just feels good to hear it. it feels good to hear it from him. “and he was an asshole.” bucky’s jaw sets. “he had five years to mourn you and your relationship. he barely gave you a month. what sort of guy does that? to a girl he loved?” he shakes his head, as if shaking the thought from his person. “if that were me, i would’ve…”

you watch as he trails off. he looks down and away. you gently take his face and move it up, getting him to look at you again. he gives you this smile that is equal parts sorrow and loving, and you wish you could take away all his pain. “i’d mourn you for life. and i… if i got the chance to have you again? i’d--”

“bucky.” you cut him off smoothly and you shake your head. “that won’t happen.”

he smiles. “i know.” he pushes your hair back and his hand rests on the back of your neck. “i just can’t imagine someone having you and not--” he shakes his head. “he’s a fool.”

gently, your hands lay on his knees and you lean forward. “you asked why i wanted to come,” you whisper, your lips nearly touching his. “i wanted to come because i want to thank him.” you press your lips against his, and his hand goes to splay on your back, pulling you in nearer and nearer. “he recommended the apartment building.”

bucky grins and you connect in every possible place. you roll between the sheets once more and eventually, sleep overtakes you.

the days leading up to the wedding pass by in a relative blur. bucky goes to make his amends and though you offer to come, he shakes his head. “i’ll be quick,” is his promise, and he keeps good on it. he’s gone barely two hours.

you spend time on the beach and sight seeing. you don’t know if you’ve ever seen bucky this… relaxed. yes, he’s always slightly more alert than your average citizen, but you will never fault him for that. you go and get ice cream and you sit on a little bench and bucky stares at you. “what?” you asked and you raise your brows. “something on my face?”

“actually, yes.” he reaches out and swipes your bottom lip, coming back with some strawberry ice cream on his thumb. he pops it into his mouth and it makes your heart plummet to your stomach. “yum.”

you all but drag him back to your hotel.

finally, it is the day of the wedding.

bucky has been ready for hours. he likes unbearably handsome-- you’d gone with him to a shop in new york and had helped him pick out some new slacks and a nice fitting shirt. he had chuckled at the way that the pants hit his ankles and said, “it’s definitely not the forties anymore.”

you had picked out a sage green silk dress, and you smooth it out in the mirror, tilting your head to the side as you looked at yourself. bucky approaches you from behind and you’re so stuck in your own head that you hardly notice him until his hands are on you. they go to your shoulders, rubbing soothing circles into tense muscles with his thumbs. “you look beautiful, doll.” he leans forward and he presses a chaste kiss to your shoulder, which makes you smile, because it’s so him. “i wanna kiss you but i don’t want to mess up your makeup.”

“like that’s ever stopped you before.”

“i’m a gentleman.”

a smirk works its way onto your face and some of the nervous, fluttering monarchs in your stomach have begun to dissipate. you turn and he gently holds your face, examining it. he opens his mouth to say something, laughs, and closes it. “i don’t even know how…” he clears his throat. you swear that tears prick at his eyes. “i don’t even know how to say how much… how perfect you are. i’ll never be able to say it properly.”

everything about james buchanan barnes makes you melt, and this is no different. you sigh and you lean your body against his, and he holds you ever close. “thank you for coming with me,” you whisper into the skin of his neck. “i needed you here.”

he holds the back of your head carefully. “i’d follow you anywhere, doll.” he pulls back and his hand holds your face, and the vibranium is like a kiss to your cheek. “may i kiss you?”

your lips part and you nod-- and he takes his time kissing you. he kisses you long and tender, making sure that you feel everything. sometimes you think that this is easier than talking for him-- this is the way that he can show you how perfect he finds you. it’s better than any words he could string together.

the ride to the venue is somewhat of a blur. bucky doesn’t take his hand off of you-- it’s constantly holding yours. from the car to the walk inside to taking your seats-- you can feel the eyes that are glued to you, but you can feel bucky’s hand in yours more. you can hear the muffled whispers of gossiping friends and family, but you hear bucky’s murmured complaints louder, and they make you laugh.

felix is at the altar already. he’s talking with a groomsman and he laughs at something and you smile a bit. he looks happy, you think. bucky’s arm is slung across the back of your chair and his fingers trail up and down your shoulder, his eyes fixed on you.

you turn to look at him, too. you lay your hand on his knee and your smile says your thanks over and over and over again. bucky’s eyes flick to the altar, and he sees that you’ve finally been noticed. felix may be looking at you, but you will never know. you are looking at bucky.

the ceremony is pretty. bucky’s bored, you think-- that thought is enough to make you chuckle. felix’s fairy girlfriend is exactly what you gathered from the pictures-- she is energetic and kind, she is sweet and beautiful. the more you think, the more you watch the way that felix looks at her, the lighter you feel.

a part of you had feared that you would never get over him. that you would never get over the what if. possibilities tended to haunt you, but now, being here… you had known for a long time that not only had you gotten over him, you had found something so much better than what you had. but it’s the thought that thrums through you that you were not expecting.

you can see this for yourself. one day. bucky at an altar in a suit, you in white.

you smile to yourself in your seat. bucky looks over at you. you look over at him, just for a moment. your heart feels full.

felix begins his vows. “carly,” he begins and he clears his throat. you can tell that he’s already getting emotional. “never did i once expect to find you. never did i expect to find someone who fit with me so… completely.” you watch as his hands shake as he holds the piece of paper. “but i did. and i’m so lucky it was you.”

his vows go on, and they are beautiful. through it all, you can sense bucky beside you, entirely attentive to you.

the reception is on the beach. the sun is setting, and it is stunning. the food is good and every gives speeches and toasts and you’ve been placed at a table with some friends that both you and felix had known. of course, when shit hit the fan with you and felix, you hadn’t exactly kept in touch, but they’re kind nevertheless. some recognize bucky, and the questions they ask make you cringe. “so… winter soldier,” one of them, kya, begins. “you actually did all of that bad shit?”

it takes everything in you not to lunge across the table. bucky’s hand finds your leg underneath the table, already knowing what you’d like to do. you open your mouth to interject, but bucky cuts you off. “hydra did.” he gives a clipped smile. it leaves no room for discussion.

they ask about the avengers and about thanos, and all of it makes you roll your eyes. they talk to bucky as if he’s a toy rather than a human being. as everyone is mingling, you see the couple beginning to approach your table. everyone cheers and scoops them up into hugs. it makes a part of you sad. not because of him, but because it’s another reminder of how life went on without you.

you and bucky stand and approach them. you can almost feel bucky’s hesitation as he sizes up felix. the protectiveness in his stance makes your heart swell. carly smiles at you, but you can tell that there’s a hint of nervousness in her demeanor. “hi!” she says and she looks between you and bucky. “we were both so happy when we got your rsvp. a little surprised, but…”

your eyebrow raises and you look at them. “i wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.” you place your hand on bucky’s arm. “felix, carly, this is my boyfriend, james. james, felix and carly.”

he shakes their hands and you note the way their eyes flick to the metal one on the other side. bucky and carly begin to make awkward small talk, and you look at felix. he looks at you. there’s something knowing in the stare. “want to take a walk?” he asks, nodding towards the beach.

you nod. felix turns to carly and you turn to bucky, who has a slightly concerned look written on his face. “it’ll be fine.” you lean in and you kiss him, wanting to take any insecurity from him. “play nice, but not too nice. if they say anything stupid, call them on it.”

bucky smirks. “you got it, doll.” he looks to felix and nods to him, and there’s something in bucky’s eyes that must scare him, because you swear felix pales slightly. and then you and felix set off.

for the first part of your walk, both of you are quiet. it’s as if both of you knew that this was inevitable, and now you’re just trying to figure out where to start. both of you begin to talk at the same time, and it causes awkward chuckles to fill the air between you. you stop by a log and you sit, staring out at the ocean. you cross your legs and you look over at him to find his gaze still on the ocean. finally, it moves to you. “i’m sorry.” you both say it at the same time.

a sad smile settles onto your face and you look away. “you first,” he says.”

“i’m sorry.” you look at him again. “i’m not sorry for the way that i felt. i’m not sorry for hurting. but i am sorry that i lashed out. i was… angry.” you suck in a breath. “people who stayed… they’ll always carry the grief and the trauma of those five years. but the people who came back? we came back to a world that had moved on. i can’t… i can’t explain to you how hard that was. it wasn’t just you. i lost everything.” you shake your head. “i took it all out on you. all that hurt. and i’m sorry for that.”

felix nods his head. “i’m sorry that i wasn’t more understanding of what you were going through. that i just… cut you off.” he swallows. “i had five years to come to terms with the fact that you weren’t coming back. even when you were back, it almost felt… fake. like i was looking at a ghost.” he swallows. “but i missed you. i want you to know that i missed you, and i thought about you.”

a small smile works onto your face. “thanks.” you look towards the crowd, where people are laughing and dancing. “she seems great.”

felix looks over his shoulder. “she is. she keeps me… in check. i can be kind of an asshole. i don’t know how either of you dealt with me.” this makes you laugh and roll your eyes. “you and bucky barnes, huh?”

“i have you to thank for that.” he looks at you in confusion. “the building you recommended me? we were neighbors.” you smile, thinking back on the memory of bucky barnes at your door, asking if you needed help building your cat tower. “he is the best thing that has happened to me,” you say it with no hint of hesitation.

felix smiles. “he looks like he’s crazy about you. he barely looks anywhere else.”

you bite down on your lip. “yeah, i’ve heard that before.” the wind ruffles your hair slightly, and you look at felix and he looks at you. “i’ve spent a lot of time being angry at you. i don’t want to be angry anymore.”

he shakes his head. “i don’t want to either.” he pauses. “maybe… maybe, one day, the four of us could… you know, get dinner or something.”

“yeah,” you nod your head. “one day.” you stand, and he follows suit, and you look up at him. “thank you. for inviting me.”

“thank you for coming.”

there’s a level of awkwardness that rests between you, and you think that perhaps it’s inevitable. but also, you can’t help the sense of relief.

part of you thinks that he’s itching to hug you, and you may be extending some forgiveness tonight, but you’re certainly not there yet. you begin to walk towards the party. “c’mon. you need to go to your bride.”

when you return, you think bucky might be ready to drive his steak knife through his eye. you approach him from behind, wrapping your arms around his shoulder and bending so that your face is beside his. “miss me?”

he snorts. “you have no idea, doll.”

you watch as felix makes his way to carly, and you meet his eye. he gives you a slight nod and a knowing smile, and you return it.

there’s a weight that’s lifted off of your chest.

“c’mon,” you say to bucky, tugging him up. “we’re going to dance.”

he groans and you laugh, pulling him by the hands to the dance floor. just as you are, you make me feel so young begins to play around you. as you step onto the dance floor, you begin singing the words quietly to him. your dancing slows to a light sway, and in your ear, bucky begins murmuring the words to you.

your eyes flutter shut and a sweeping calm comes over you. “you know… i never thought i would get married. did you?”

bucky’s hands have a firm place on your waist. “i grew up in the forties. of course i thought i was going to get married,” you two spin slightly. “but, after everything… i didn’t think that was ever going to be in the cards for me.”

your breath catches. “and now?”

“now?” bucky asks into your ear. “i can only dream i get lucky enough to have you as my bride.”

your cheeks grow warm. “mrs. barnes…” you lean back to look at him. “has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

the look on bucky’s face, you don’t know if you’ve ever seen that look before. “yes.” his voice is so firm it nearly brings you to your knees. “yes, it does.”

you two slow to a halt and bucky tilts your chin up. “guess i have some work to do,” his lips ghost over yours. “mrs. barnes.”

the world around you stops, and in that moment, it is only you and bucky. it is you and bucky at your ex’s wedding, and there is nowhere else you would want to be.

you’re beginning to understand why bucky likes making amends.

[crispyjenkins]

Can we get a fic where Jaster somehow gets sent to the future or something and him reacting to the clones? (Being pissed off that his ad would do something like this to these poor kids/ just reacting to them?)

(this one was so. fecking. hard. to write, i’ve been struggling with it for weeks, but i’m glad i did, because this is by far the best version i made of it. it’s interesting in how much my opinion of jango’s decision to be the template has changed since i first got this ask, and i was definitely coming at it with this post in mind for their characterisations here.

i love hondo. so you get hondo knowing jaster from pre-civil war days, and i don’t care if canon disagrees: hondo ohnaka has been terroising house mereel for three generations.

also i’ve already had a few people donate to my ko-fi and i’m completely floored by your kindness and generosity, and i sat down with this fill knowing i wanted to get it out as soon as possible. i sincerely love you all, i hope you’re all healthy and being as safe as possible.)

Alt+R to Quick Reblog on Desktop, Hold the Reblog Symbol to Quick Reblog on Mobile

  “Oh, Jango? We keep him here.” —Lama Su, AotC

-

  By some will of the Ka’ra, it’s Boba that finds him.

  The possibility of dying in his ad’s arms hadn’t exactly crossed Jaster’s mind until it happened, like a nightmare he had never even had. For the first time since the Fett farm burned, Jaster cursed the Ka’ra, and he curses them again when he wakes up not marching* to the stars, but standing knee-deep in the snows of Galidraan

  And the Ka’ra make sure he knows it’s Galidraan though he had never been there, just as he somehow knows Jango is long-since dead. That he is a dislocated bone in the universe, snapped out of time and place and thrown into a future where Jango’s face stares at him from a body that is not his.

  “Oh,” the teen with Jango’s nose says, the snow coming all the way up to their thighs, and they don't look dressed nearly warm enough for this biome. “Did Hondo send you?”

  Jaster blinks at them. “Did...? No, ad’ika, I have not spoken to Hondo in many years.” Maybe he shouldn’t be surprised Hondo is even still alive, Maker knows Jaster’s tried to kill him enough times himself, but if the number of years since his death on Korda Six is as many as he thinks it is, surely someone would have shot him by now.

  The teen doesn’t wear beskar’gam —it’s unlikely they’re even old enough to— but the style of the armor they do wear cannot be inspired by anything else, just reminiscent enough of evaar’gam that Jaster can’t help comparing every little detail about them with the faded image of Jango in his mind.

  “Then who the kriff are you?” They eye Jaster warily, left hand twitching towards the vibroblade at their hip.

  Promising to strangle every one of the Ka’ra when he can finally march away, and throwing the last of his caution down to the snow between them, Jaster simply says, “Jaster Mereel.”

  Impossibly, though maybe not entirely, not-Jango doesn’t laugh at him, or call him crazy, or even try to shoot him with the rifle slung over their shoulder. No, they straighten to their full height, and—

  And swear so colorfully in Huttese that Jaster knows this hell-child has absolutely been raised by Hondo Ohnaka.

-

  Boba takes him to the ruins of Kamino first, where the kriffing Sith Empire has destroyed another one of his people’s homes. 

  The growth labs were all blown into the ocean by imperial ilk soon after the formation of the empire, but the barracks and some of the training rooms still stand above the waves. In the ship he says belonged to Jango, Boba steers them to a dilapidated landing pad, controlling the Slave I (Maker, had Jaster really left Jango to that fate?) far too easily through the rubble for this to be his first time to return, and Jaster tries not to think about what that means.

  Walking the dark, grimy white halls, seeing the narrow bunks and bare req rooms, he then tries not to think about a child being raised in such a place, about hundreds of thousands of children being raised in such a place. How had Jango... chosen this for them?

  “I only have his stories,” Boba tells him quietly, when he shows Jaster the tiny apartment the Kaminoans had given them to “keep Jango close”. It’s bigger than most captain’s cabins, to be sure, but it is just as plain and white as the rest of the facility. “But he couldn’t even get one hundred Mandalorians to come and train the... clones.” He shuffles his feet uncomfortably as Jaster looks into the cupboard-sized kitchen and tries not to break down at the package of Mandalorian chiles rotted away on the counter. “Everyone else was New Mandalorian or Death Watch.”

  “And the rest... they fell at the Battle of Galidraan?”

“Buir always called it a massacre,” he looks away. “Only a handful of the Cuy’val Dar even considered themselves True Mandalorians, buir was there when the Jedi killed the rest.”

  Jaster inhales deeply, takes a few moments to steady himself, and is sickeningly, horrifyingly relieved. By the Maker, but knowing Jango had had no one left before his Kamino contract, that not even Skirata followed the codex anymore, that Jango had only taken the job after forcing Tyranus to give him an unaltered clone, makes Jaster guilty for having doubted his foundling. It doesn’t excuse anything, of course, but knowing Jango had done it all for aliit, well, it does make it easier to swallow.

  Boba leads him back out of the apartment, he had already stripped it of anything important years ago, and they don’t stick around after reboarding the Slave I. Only after they’re out of atmosphere with hyperspace coordinates for Tatooine in the astronav system does Boba join Jaster in the tiny galley with a bottle of tihaar that Jaster should probably reprimand him for, but won’t.

  “He tried to pretend he didn’t care, about the others,” Boba says and doesn’t even bother to find them glasses, “I think some days he even believed it.”

  “He always was stubborn as a rancor.”

  Boba takes a long pull from the bottle before passing it across the table. “Tyranus scared the shit out of me back then, he was too... put together, too fancy. Buir didn’t like him, I don’t know why he even did the tryout for him, the pay wasn’t even that great?”

  Rubbing his left eye until he sees stars, Jaster stares down into the bottle until he can come up with a way to explain core Mandalorian beliefs to a child that had barely a decade of living as one before that, too, had been taken from him. “If Jang’ika took that job intending to come out on the other side, I’ll kiss whatever Vizsla is left.”

  Boba’s mouth twists and he kicks his heels against the floor, not waiting for Jaster to hand it to him to grab the tihaar back. “Buir was an idiot,” he says, like the solve to a simple math problem, and Jaster can’t but agree.

  He sighs. “Unfortunately, he probably got that from somewhere.”

  “I mean, at least Montross didn’t live long enough to end up as the template? Kriffing fuck, can you imagine if the Jedi had had to work with that shabuir’s clones?”

  “Maybe the war would have ended sooner,” he muses and accepts the bottle, “surely this Emperor would have tired of his face much sooner than Jango’s.”

  “Or the Coruscant Guard would have shivved Palpatine in his sleep and tried to take over the Republic; what’s one betrayal of your leader to another?”

  “Then I’d like to think Jango would put him, them, in their place for a third time.”

  Snorting, Boba pushes to his feet to, presumably, check on the autopilot. “If buir would have even let it get that far, then I’ll kiss Vizsla.”

-

  “Old friend!” Hondo shouts as soon as he sees them, and Jaster winces, nursing his first hangover since his twenties.

  “Ohnaka,” he returns, and pretends he doesn’t notice the subtle way Boba brightens as Hondo comes to clap them both on the shoulders.

  The old pirate just chuckles and starts to steer them both back across the hangar bay to his latest junk ship. “I heard you died, Mand’alor,” he says casually, like the title isn’t cursed to the ka’ra and back, like it hadn’t been three decades since anyone had dared call someone from his house such a thing so sincerely.

  “I did.”

  “I found him on Galidraan,” Boba offers. “Is that why you told me to go?”

  Hondo scoffs, and Jaster would say he was flustered if he didn’t know him better. “No, I told you to go because Aurra had a job for you, that you seem to have forgotten about in your haste to bring my long lost best friend back to me.”

  Boba scowls. “Aurra wasn’t at the meeting place, laandur, it was a kriffing mynock chase and you know it.”

  Jaster side eyes his old “friend”, and wonders again about his preternatural... luck in all things pirate-related, despite being a boisterous mess of a man most of the time. If this Aurra had even been on the planet when Boba got there, Jaster will kiss Vizsla twice. 

-

Mando’a: Ka'ra — an ancient Mandalorian story, ruling council of fallen kings, “stars” ad — “child”, gender neutral 'ika — diminutive suffix, similar to the suffix “ita/o” in Spanish. generally used only by close family and friends beskar'gam — Armour made of beskar, “Mandalorian Iron” that was actually probably a steel alloy evaar'gam — lit. “youth armour”, fan name for the interim armour/garb Mandalorians would have worn before building their kit of beskar’gam buir — “parent”, gender neutral  Cuy'val Dar — “Those who no longer exist”, group of 75 Mando’ade and 25 others put together by Jango to train the clones aliit — “clan”, “family” tihaar — Mandalorian strong clear spirit made from fruit shabuir —  an extreme insult, mostly accepted in fandom to be an insult of an individual’s ability to parent (from buir), which is an intrinsic part of Mandalorian psyche and identity  laandur — used here as “weak”, “pathetic”, but is usually used as “delicate”, “fragile”

*in reference to the Mando’a word for the dead/deceased “taab'echaaj'la”, or “marched far away”, best explained in the Mando’a tribute to dead comrades, “not gone, merely marching far away”. 

[fumbles-mcstupid]

I found this in my drafts, written YEARS ago, that I’d been intending to post alongside that billyalan post that I ALSO had in drafts but never got around to and I’m so glad I wrote this down because I’d forgotten a lot of it and it’s nice to refresh my memory so I’m posting it now

not to get uh,, all gushy but, anyway-- that post I just reblogged to my sideblog? iconic and formative? still doesn’t quite cover it. It’s like looking back at an old familiar signpost that pointed me in a direction I’m glad I went. I remember first listening to the song Blue Driver (at that point it was pretty much less than two months after getting into billyalan, two MONTHS) and that night staying up and hitting replay a good dozen times or more, reveling in ship feels, and then clicking a recommendation on the youtube sidebar from the same artist and same album, the song Roll On Babe. It was slower, but also really good, and they were thereafter linked irrevocably in my mind, one following the next, and not through lyrics but by pure aesthetic association. They were, and still are, essential billyalan for me, highlighting a mood about the ship that has carried on, that I’ve carried with me, for years since. Only a short time after hearing Blue Driver, I had a 2am impulse to learn it on guitar, found the simple chords online, and quietly played it, and once I was eventually better at it? it was the actual first song I could play while singing at the same time, fundamental to making me into a decent guitar player, really just a baby step in the long run because at its heart it’s a pretty simple song, mostly E to A to E to A and to a form of B and so on. And that’s partly why the two songs go so well together, because they consist of the same two base chords, E and A, and Roll On Babe in its basic form is just a repetitive strum that has the beat of a train chugging along, reminding me of empty spaces and trains and the miles they cross, of lonely places like the ones Alan and Billy spend their summers in, how they’d listen to songs like this one and lean into each other....

Anyway, those two were covers by Vetiver and I read up and found their earlier forms, the original of Blue Driver by Michael Hurley (who lent his help to Vetiver in their cover, fun fact!), and the principal cover of Roll On Babe by Ronnie Lane & Slim Chance (banjo! harmonica!), where Vetiver took their cue from. All four tracks? super enjoyable for me in their own different ways.

The point is, I GUESS, is that any damn time I’m bored and I pick up my guitar, on a random day whether I’ve been thinking about billyalan or not, lol, those two songs are some of the easiest things to strum out, maybe hum, maybe sing, and I’m instantly taken somewhere else, somewhere on a sunny highway, somewhere in a truck, imagining Billy and Alan singing along, arms hanging out the window, carefree and very much in love