#hollywood is such a fucking joke i hope it collapses

[eldritch-thrumming]

scream 7 fires their highly successful female lead who revitalized their franchise & made them millions of dollars all because of her pro palestinian stance but not a single word from netflix on their side characters in an ensemble cast who are literally saying shit like “zionism is sexy” and advocating for absolutely no ceasefire under any circumstances. this is a hell world.

#i’m talking abt melissa barrera noah schnapp and brett gelman respectively #hollywood is such a fucking joke i hope it collapses #i get it’s different studios and companies but for fucks sake really #will be interesting to see what jenna ortega has to say abt this i have no idea if she’s even attached to scream 7 tbh #also something so sinister abt an industry that would drop a new hunger games installment rn

[finelinevogue]

Just wanted to say 2 things:

1)Love the fic where he proposed over a cup of tea…so sweet💗

2) we all know how H has asthma sometimes so…could u write something w/the reader helping him with an attack idk or during an interview/concert/family gathering do as u pls

A nice day

XOXO

firstly, thank you so much that’s so sweet of you <33 and secondly, um yes i would love to give this a go at writing for you! hope you enjoy;

Harry couldn’t breathe.

He was in a panic, completely terrified of the uncontrollable situation. He was having an asthma attack concocted with a panic attack and it was brutal.

“Shit,” Jeff whispered as he watched Harry breathe heavily and loudly on the floor. His friend was currently on his hands and knees trying to gasp for air, whilst dressed in his notorious Fine Line outfit.

It was the big night. The one night only at The Forum for the release of his new album Fine Line, hence the costume. He had been nervous all day, with shaking hands and a tendency to forget simple things. You had been with him all day; having a slow brunch together out in the Hollywood Hills and then just chilling around for the afternoon. You didn’t want to anything to strain his voice, so talking hadn’t been an option. That left you either to sleeping and cuddling, whilst watching a movie, or sex. Now you were all for sex, but Harry complained that he liked talking to you during it and so that got shut down pretty quickly. You didn’t forget what he whispered to your ear though just before you cuddled into watching Bambi;

“Keep your moans for later, you’ll be fucking needing them for what I have planned.”

But that was over two hours ago now. Harry had been whisked away to start getting ready, what with hair and makeup first. You’d left him to it, telling him you would just lounge around and wait for him. It was when he was getting into costume had you announced you were just going to go down the street to get some coffee from Dunkin’ - seeing as there were few of them back in England, where you most commonly lived with Harry. The problem was you hadn’t come back yet, and it was an hour later.

“Harry mate, you need to calm down.” Kid Harpoon told him carefully, kneeling down next to his good friend. Nothing was working though and Harry was too breathless to ask anyone for his inhaler.

It had started by thinking about how nervous he actually was for tonight. It was such a huge show and one of a kind too. He was playing his new album and it wasn’t even 24 hours old yet. There was so much pressure weighing him down that he couldn’t breathe - he was suffocating in the anxiety of his own mind and he couldn’t escape at all. Then because he was in so much of a panic his asthma hit him and added another reason to his breathlessness. It was finally made worst when he realised you weren’t by his side to help him. You weren’t there to quickly eliminate the asthma and focus on helping him overcome the panic attack, instead he had his mates surrounding him - crowding him - and they didn’t know the first thing to do.

“Sarah, where’s Y/N?” Mitch shouted, making Harry squint the thought away. He didn’t want to think about how something back might’ve happened or might be happening to you. Where were you? Sarah’s response did no better to help him.

“I don’t know.”

“Harry bud. Talk to us.” Jeff spoke, crouched down in front of him. Harry shook his head, tears running from his eyes as he began crying. The sobs were really harsh and embarrassing. The tears were heavy and mixed with snot running from his nose to pool on the floor below him. He was not doing well at all, coughing when the asthma choked him up. He couldn’t do this. He felt like he was in a small box and it was only getting smaller. He felt as if he were going to die. Genuinely.

“Does he look like he can talk, dickward.” Adam’s voice came from the other side of Harry, messing his head up even more. There was so many voices and he couldn’t focus on just one, but he didn’t want to. He wanted yours. He needed yours. You.

Whenever this has happened before he was always luckily in the comfort of his home, or the tour bus and always with you. So this was unfamiliar and terrifying. He was beginning to think you’d left him or you’d gotten seriously hurt, but he couldn’t do anything to help. He was stuck - paralysed to this position as his lungs collapsed in on themselves and his brain sped the same speed as a train. You were his comfort person and it was only ever you that he wanted in situations like these. Just you.

“Move out of my way. Move!” Harry thought he heard you and your voice, but he hated that his mind could be playing tricks on him in desperation for what, or whom, he truly wanted.

He felt someone crash on the floor in front of him and the almighty smell of lavender and soap hit him all at once. This time, he was glad to have someone sit so close to him, because it was you.

“Harry look at me, hey, hey. You’re okay. Look at me bubs.” You spoke calmly, trying not to sound panicked yourself, even if you were heavily worried. You watched as he looked up at you, eyes ridiculously red and puffy whilst his nose was dripping like a leaking tap. You wanted to rub his tears away and dab away the snot, but your main priority was on his breathing first. “Okay good, okay.”

Your hand went into your bag and picked out his inhaler. You shook it a few times, before putting it into Harry’s mouth. “On three, one, two, three…” Harry tried is best to breathe in and you pushed down on the canister. “Good, bubs, really good. Okay again, one, two, three…” You repeated and then a third time until you could tell that the wheezing of his asthma attack had disappeared.

“T-than…” Harry tried to mumble out, but couldnt because he was still in panic and his throat was so dry.

“Sshh you’re okay.” You turned to one of the crew members and asked for them to fetch you a bottle of water. You asked people to clear out of the room and leave you with Harry for a bit, knowing he wouldn’t settle in front of all these people. You sat on the floor, crossed legged, and brought Harry to lay his head in your lap with his body trailing behind. You offered him one of your hands to squeeze if he wanted to, which he appreciated, cupping both of his around yours. Your other hand laid to stroke through his gelled hair - that would no doubt have to be redone now.

Instead of going straight into talking to him, you sang his favourite lullaby to him in aid of calming him down. It always worked, or at least helped a little. You sang quietly, noticing the beat of his heart soften with every line you sung. You were by no means a professional singer like him, but he liked the way it was so imperfect and mellow. It calmed him to hear something so simple and so you. Whilst you sang the crew never came back with your requested water and you thanked them, before you were the only ones left in the room.

After you finished singing you noticed how calm Harry was, almost still - the complete opposite to how he’d been all of 10 minutes ago. It was amazing what the power of you could do to him.

“What colour are we feeling?” You and Harry had created your own little system by which you would let each other know how you’re feeling by a colour of the rainbow. You’d designated a meaning to all of them that only you two could understand and used them on the days when you weren’t feeling great, to help understand each other’s feelings better.

“The whole bloody rainbow.” Harry mumbled out and you passed the water around so he could take a few sips, to which he thanked you graciously for.

“Oi, you can’t have that as your answer.” It was a rule that you could only use one colour to some your most intense emotion in that moment, otherwise there was kind of no point to the system.

“But it’s true. I feel grey with confusion, blue with sadness, purple with frustration, yellow with fear and even light yellow with cowardice. Yet I feel pink with happiness and light red with love.”

“What about red red?” You teased, not being able to help yourself.

“What? Lust? Always, for you that is.” You leant down to kiss his head as he cracked a joke, showing you that your Harry was still there beneath all this worry.

“Tell me what the colours represent in real life.”

“Purple because I am frustrated that I had to have a panic attack right before the biggest show of my career. Yellow because I am frightened that nobody will like the album and it will be a complete fail of a night. Grey because I can’t choose one colour and focus on it. I.. I—”

You could tell he getting himself worked up again, so cut him short. “Bubs stop, you’re okay. Listen to me.” You tucked his hair behind his ear as if to open it up for him to hear better. “Don’t ever be frustrated with yourself for something like this. You are allowed to have moments of weakness; you wouldn’t be human if you didn’t. Did this compromise your show? No. Did this show off how strong and brave you are? Yes. That’s what is important, therefore we can swap purple for dark yellow because you were brave. Which means yellow can also turn to dark yellow because you are so brave for doing something so huge and so wonderful. People already love the album H. Can’t get enough of it. Everyone will sing along to every word, I can promise you that. Or at least I will. You are amazing, so never undersell yourself. That’s important to me and for you. Bubs, you are so amazing for what you’re doing here tonight and I couldn’t be prouder of you. Yes, a panic attack isn’t nice and it isn’t convenient, but it just helps show how much you care about tonight and it going a success. That must count for something.”

He didn’t say anything for a bit and that was okay. He was most likely getting his thoughts together and mentally preparing himself for the greatest night of his life. You bent your body over so you could hug him, since his back was to your front, and just give him a squeeze to reiterate how proud you are of him.

“Y/N.” Harry spoke quietly, as your body encased his. You embraced his warmth and inhaled the beautiful scent that he was wearing. He both smelt and looked phenomenal.

“Yes bubs.”

“You know I love you right?” Of course you did, but it still made your heart flutter as crazy as the first time he said it to when he tells you now.

“I do.”

“And you know you’re it for me right?”

“Well.. I—” You didn’t want to get too ahead of yourself.

“Because you are.” Harry turned himself around, making you sit up so he could move. He was lying with his head facing upwards now, face looking less red and puffy, and staring right into the souls of your eyes. He looked magical. Beautiful. He thought the same of you. “And,” he moved his fingers to take off his S ring from Gucci, that probably cost more than your annual salary, and place it onto your ring finger of your right hand, “I give you this as a promise to share my last name with you someday.”

Seeing the initial of his last name sat on the finger opposite to the one he claimed he would one day put two more rings on, brought you to tears. “Harry…” You didn’t know what to say, you were speechless. You had never expected for him to do something as monumental as this and had never experienced it before to know how to react.

Of course you’d always dreamt of marrying him and being his for eternity, but never thought of it possibly becoming your reality. Now, Harry was completely devoting himself to you and only you and it suddenly all felt like the dream was settling in place.

“I swear to you Y/N, i’ll love you until the next lifetime and i’ll find you again. I love you so much, I can’t even tell you how much because it is so infinite. You’re so kind and patient with me and you see me for me, not for the Harry Styles, just Harry. I’ll never let a day pass without you on my mind and I think it’s because you were always meant to be mine. My heart is yours.” He smiled once he noticed you were crying, moving one of his hands up to wipe the tears away.

“How do I top that?” You whispered to him, but mostly to yourself. Both of you laughed.

“Just tell me you love me.”

“I do. I do love you Harry.” You nodded and then he sealed your confirmation with a kiss to his lips. You rested your hand upon his cheek, placing the coolness of the S ring upon his cheekbone, as he placed his hand under your chin to guide you into the kiss. He tasted divine and you smiled knowing that you got to have him like this, taste him like this, for the rest of your beating hearts’ days.

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfiction #finelinevogue #finelinevogue harry styles #harry blurb #harry oneshot #harry styles concept #harry styles fluff #harry styles asthma asthma #ask finelinevogue #ask harry styles #anon response #anon #finelinevogue blurbs #finelinevogue masterlist #harry styles fine line #one night only fine line #fine line album #fine line concert blurb #harry styles concert #harry styles concert blurb

[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

#timetravelathon #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles au #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles x yn #boyfriend!harry #boxer!harry #harry styles solo #harry #harry styles #harry styles story

[karmelek-writes]

comfort zone I part 3

Harrison Osterfield x fem!reader, Tom Holland x fem!reader

Synopsis: What do you do when you love them but want someone else?

Word count: 4,5k

Warnings: angst, swearing, suggestive comments, mentions of sex, smut, adult themes

A/N: Hey guys! This is part three of the "comfort zone". I wanted to thank you all again for supporting me and commenting, reblogging, and liking the series! Also, sorry for the delay. The next part will come out on Friday, as usual. Let me know what you think of this part! (sorry for any mistakes, English is not my native language plus this part wasn't proofreaded)

Love, W 🖤

When you entered Tom's bedroom you immediately felt your tensed body softening as the smell of Tom intoxicated your senses. There wasn't another place on this earth you felt more comfortable in than his room. It wasn't big but the cream-painted walls and huge mirror in the middle made it seem vaster. There wasn't much furniture, just all the necessities, but you had to admit that Tom had been keeping his room clean and fresh. It was typical, yet lego Death Star set and spiderman figures arranged neatly on a bedside table screamed Tom. You kept teasing him about this but in reality, you found it endearing. The souvenirs he brought home from the places he had visited were dusting on the shelf, reminding him of good old days having fun on set and hanging out with the cast after work. What always got your attention was his cartoon figure leaning on the wall next to his bed. He got it for his birthday after landing the role of spiderman as a joke from Harrison, his brothers, and you. Even when Tom was younger everyone knew he was born to act. His family and friends would tease him about it calling him a movie star which always made him fuss around. When he finally made it to Hollywood, you all knew what you had to do. You told him that you all had a surprise purposely hyping it up. Judging by his reaction you expected him to throw it out but he kept it. At times Tom was a nerd but it made you like him even more because despite becoming a literal movie star, he never stopped being this little cute boy who still slept in spiderman pj's he was gifted on his 19th birthday.

The cartoon figure was what you were looking at when Tom cleared his throat and locked the door. The action made you turn around to glance at him with confusion written all over your face. His focused gaze and sudden shift of behaviour confirmed your suspicion that it was going to be a serious conversation.

"So… Are we going to talk about what happened?" Tom's nervous voice rang in your ears making your heart rate speed up. You knew that was the moment you had to confront him about your feelings. “Because for the last couple of days I’ve been thinking about everything. I would hate to leave like that.”

“I know,” you sighed mentally preparing yourself to recite the speech you’ve created in your mind in advance. “Look, ever since I met you I feel like my life has gotten better. I never thought I would have such an amazing person in my life,” in the corner of your eye you saw Tom smiling excitedly at your compliment. His honey-brown eyes were sparkling and you had to stop yourself from hugging him and running your hand through his messy curls. “What happened between us was sudden and I’ve said it already, I don’t regret it. Actually, I’m quite happy with how things turned out,” you chucked at the end hoping it would relieve the stress and hesitation in your voice. Your words were all that brunette needed to confirm that you wanted him as much as he wanted you. In the room illuminated by the moonlight, Tom’s silhouette moved closer to you. Having approached you, he touched your exposed arm and traced his fingers up so gently as if he was scared he would break you if he pushed harder. His hand on your body caused shivers to appear and a slight flush crept into your cheeks. You hated and loved the contact silently hoping he would give you more. It seemed like your thoughts were heard as Tom slowly but confidently started to walk you backwards until you fell on his unmade bed. He leaned as close as he could, placing both arms on the sides of your head making it impossible for you to escape.

"I don't want to leave you here," he fussed, highly aware that the next few weeks were going to be hell without you lulling him to sleep, inquisitively going on and on about your day. Resisting the urge to pout you tried to overcome the feeling of sadness slowly accumulating in your chest.

"And I don't want you to leave," a deep sigh escaped your lips, pushing back the thought of him flying away the following day. "But we are here now, so what are you going to do about it?" you extended your arm to grasp Tom's messy curls, daring him to cross the boundary unconsciously set up the moment you've become friends to dive in the pleasure. Tom didn't give you a verbal answer, but knowing that actions speak louder than words, he lowered himself to place a soft kiss on the crook of your neck. The cracked lips caused a wave of shivers to run down your spine, your stomach dropping as you felt sudden wetness between your legs. Mixed with the wet marks left by Tom's tongue, the sensation made your eyes shut, spots emerging in front of them. All your senses were keen, escalating the intensity of the experience.

Tom was determined to work you up as he unhurriedly worshiped your body. A deep moan followed by a throaty “fuck” were the sounds at which you opened your eyes. Your longing stare met Tom’s one and you could swear right then, right there you had never seen a more mesmerising sight. Brunette’s once soft strands now had stuck to his forehead glistening from the sweat. His usually pale cheeks were now painted deep pink - a result of his unholy thoughts combined with the sight of your perfectly shaped body. Eyes dark with desire, hungry to capture every inch of your figure. You noticed beads of sweat dripping on your already wet chest, your shirt clinging to your torso enhancing curves you’d work so hard on at the gym. Lifting yourself on your elbows you signed to Tom to help you strip. You weren’t a self-conscious person, nor were you hesitant to show your figure, but you didn’t like to preen yourself on it. However, you felt the rush of confidence wash over as you caught Tom lustful ogling and wanted to take control of the situation. Shifting from underneath you poked Tom’s chest and pushed him to lay down. Foggy mind and the burn you’d felt on the skin still were dislimning your senses causing you to clumsily collapse at the top of Tom in your attempt to straddle him. Silent ouchs followed by a breathy laugh falling from the boy’s lips made your heart clunch in embarrassment. Much to your surprise, he kissed you as if he wanted to assure you that he didn’t find your awkwardness unnerving. In the few seconds of your make-out session, you recomposed yourself and broke the kiss wanting more as the throbbing between your legs became unbearable.

In the heat of a moment, you took off your bra leaving your breasts exposed for Tom to admire. You didn’t miss how his pupils dilated and his mouth went dry just by gaping at you. This fueled up your nerve leaving no place for doubt and hesitation in your mind. Shamelessly, you rocked your hips against his own at a slow pace. Grunts and scratchy moans could be heard, falling from Tom’s lips like prayers begging for your pleasure. With his eyes shut and fists clenched, he couldn’t look more beautiful, more vulnerable, falling into pieces for you. Finding pleasure in the position and the power you hold over him, you let yourself get lost in the bliss of his hard cock sliding through your folds, the tip teasing your sensitive clit in a steady motion. Wrapping his arm around your waist, Tom lifted himself until he was on an eye level with your chest, his mouth immediately clinging to your breasts, tongue swirling around your hardened nipple. Slowing down your pace, you cupped Tom's face and connected your lips in an aggressive kiss, teeth brushing and tongues intertwined. Fighting for dominance, Tom flipped you so that he was on top. Groaning, you brought him impossibly close leaving no space between your sweaty and hot bodies. Tom's little whimpers were more often now that he was thrusting into your hips, trying to bring himself closer to the limit. Knowing you couldn't last much longer you moved your hand to slip it into your undergarment only for Tom to stop you to do it himself. He licked his fingertips and shoved it into your panties, rubbing your clit in circles.

“That’s okay, cum for me baby,” Tom muttered, trying hard to catch his breath. Completely lost in the moment, you obeyed his command and let go of the tight knot that formed in your stomach. The sensation of Tom’s body pressing against you and his fingers playing with the heart of your femininity caused you to almost black out, starts appearing in front of your eyes. Letting out a pornographic moan, you tried to arch your back gripping the sheets so hard your skin turned white. You couldn’t tell for how long you were wiggling under your best friend’s body but it felt like hours until you were able to get back to reality.

Coming down from your high you took notice of a wet stain on Tom’s trousers. You opened your mouth to say something but he cut you off offering you some fresh clothes and a glass of water. Not thinking much, you accepted his little acts of care and walked past him to change in the bathroom.

Having closed the door, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and tried to calm your racing heart. While you were getting dressed Tom was silently freaking out. He could’t believe that you went this far. It still felt like a dream to him. At that moment he hated his lifestyle, he hated his profession that required him to fly away the following morning, splitting you up in the worst time. Maybe he could convince you to go with him? No, it was crazy. You had your life here, it wouldn’t be fair to take it away.

Tom’s running thoughts were cut off by the click of the door followed by your silhouette emerging from the room with a small smile. Tom returned the gesture and nodded at the bed, silently asking if you wanted to lay down with him. Getting back on the soft mattres, you let out a sigh contemplating if you should bring up your feelings. Truthfully speaking, you didn’t know how to act and it seemed like so did Tom. He sat down at the foot of the bed, facing away from you. He was scratching the nape of his neck - a habit that always betrayed his nervosity. He then suddenly stopped and it seemed like he came to terms with himself as he turned around to look at you with tears threatening to fall from his eyes and imperceptibly bleeding lip. He had to bite it to prevent it from trembling but the pressure was hard enough to rip the fragile skin of an organ. You couldn’t read anything from the look on his face and it scared you. Not thinking much you embraced him from behind placing your forehead against the side of his face. You wanted him to feel you, to detect that you were there for him.

“I-I don’t want to l-leave,” a broken stutter left his lips, repeating the words he had used before.

“I know, but people expect you to go,” you whispered to him, slowly rocking you two from side to side to the sound of the clock tickling and driving cars coming from outside the window.

“Tell me something that will make me stay,” his words echoed in the quiet room, so desperate and calling for help. Not thinking much you blurred out the first thing that came to your mind.

“I think I’m falling in love with you and that scares me but I don’t want you to go either,” before you got a chance to register your confession, Tom wrenched himself away from you to see if you were serious. He definitely wasn’t in the mood for jokes so when he identified your stoned expression he knew you meant every single word. Suddenly, a way of regret and pity washed over him, not being sure how to tell you the truth without breaking your heart.

“I… That’s… Um…” he tried to initiate the conversation but his mind was so fogged from regret and miscomprehension.

“You don’t feel the same?” you more of stated with so much heartbreak in your voice it took everything in Tom not to lie and tell you he’s always loved you to fix his mistakes. He stopped himself from it because you deserved something better than that. On the spur of the moment, he cupped your face hoping it would help him get to you easier.

“I love you, I really do but…” he couldn’t finish the sentence. It would kill him to watch your face fall with disappointment and sorrow, let down by the only guy who promised to cherish you forever.

“You don’t have to say anything more. I understand,” pushing Tom away from you, you got up making your way to the door wishing to get away from him as soon as possible. You were hurt beyond your expectations. All of the little moments you shared, the kiss, tonight, it meant nothing. You were livid at yourself, you didn’t know for what more - being so stupid to believe that he could ever love you or that he would ever want you for something more than just an easy fuck. Fueled by the sudden anger you turned to Tom with disgust painted all over your face. “Was I just a girl you wanted to try for a day and dump? Was I just good fun for you? Did you have fun playing with me?”

“God, no! I didn’t mean it to happen! I just did and I’m sorry, okay? Just please sit down and let me explain,” you were extremely angry but you needed answers so you stayed in your place, waiting for Tom to continue. “I tried so hard to love you. It just never felt right like there was something missing and I-I don’t k-know what it is but that doesn’t mean that I don’t care about you. I do love you, can’t you see that?” you didn’t reply for a few seconds and Tom started to get nervous. “Please, say something.”

“Can you try again?” you asked in a small voice. You kept your arms around yourself feeling uncomfortable out of the blue, your black socks suddenly becoming amusing sight to look at.

“Can I try what again?” confusion was evident in Tom’s tone. He knew he was losing you and he needed to do everything to keep you by his side.

“Try to love me.” silence filled the room as you asked the unfortunate question hoping for the answer you already knew you couldn’t get. But it was worth trying, wasn’t it?

“I’m sorry but I don’t think I can,” the words were hard for Tom to get out, a lump forming in his throat.

“Okay,” was all you muttered and at that moment Tom realised he fucked up. “I should go already, it’s late and you have to catch an early plane so…” you trailed hoping that he will get a hint.

“Please, wait!” he ran up to you as you were to exit his bedroom to wrap his arms around you in one last hug before he would leave. “I will keep calling every day, I don’t care if you don’t pick up or block my number. I will always try to get to you. You’re my oxygen, I need you,” if you were in a different situation Tom’s deep sobs would make your heart ache and feel sorry for him, rushing to lighten up his mood but now you didn’t have any of those thoughts. You just felt numb at his praying, a strange feeling settling in your stomach feeling his touch.

“Please, don’t become a stranger,” Was Tom selfish? Yes, but desperate situations require desperate attempts.

Freeing yourself from the brunette's tight embrace, you looked him in the eye for the last time and left the room wishing him good luck at his new job. He didn’t try and call for you, nor did he run after you. He stared at you silently tiptoeing downstairs avoiding contact with other people. You needed to talk about everything like adults but he knew you needed time and he was willing to give you that. He just wished he wasn’t leaving.

================================================

“Okay so… do you think we have all the stuff we need?” Harrison looked at you, having put your bag in the backseat.

“Yeah, granted that you didn’t forget to bring your big ego” you tried to joke and lift the mood but you knew it didn’t work when Harrison made a face at you. Since your not-so-nice exchange with Tom, you haven’t been in a pleasant mood. You knew that what he did wasn’t cool, but that didn’t stop you from missing him. You took off your phone, glancing at it for the twentieth time in the past thirty minutes only to see that you haven’t gotten any notifications. He said he would call. You felt stupid waiting for the guy who clearly didn’t want you and didn’t even bother to talk things out with you. You must have stared at your phone for a little too long because you heard Harrison clear his throat and saw him giving you a knowing look. You only rolled your eyes and put your phone back in your pocket.

“You can’t keep doing this, you know?” the blonde tried to take up a conversation with you. He knew something was up between you and Tom. He knew when you would stop smiling at him when he cracked jokes or when you stopped mentioning Tom in your conversations, or when he noticed Tom tensing at every mention of your name. He tried to get any pieces of information from his best friend but the brunette would always say that you were busy and that it wasn’t his business. Maybe it wasn’t Harrison’s place to be noisy but he had to admit that your careless aura was making him worry. Even when you were upset you acted more lively than now. He was aware that the matter was serious, he just didn’t know how to make it better… and he wanted to make it better for you.

During the last few weeks, your relationship progressed. Since Tom was constantly working, he didn’t have much time to call or text. And even if he did it seemed as if he wanted to spend it with other people. You couldn’t make out what went wrong in your relationship but you knew it was serious when Tom stopped making any effort. You’ve never seen him acting so indifferent towards you and it scared you. However, the lack of interaction between you two brought you closer to Harrison. You almost forgot how significant part of your life he was. Despite your sour mood, you enjoyed the time spent with him. He always made you laugh and feel needed. Your banter didn’t stop but it has changed into something softer and domestic. You found out that you didn’t mind it at all. Harrison still would do little things to drive you insane like casually tracing his fingers along your neck while putting a loose strain of your hair behind your ear or lowering his hand a bit too much than necessary while hugging you but it didn’t seem so unfamiliar and strange anymore. Talking to him almost daily, you learned to be more comfortable around him. To the point where you would hold his hand sometimes and stay over at his apartment after a long session of studying. That, however, didn’t mean that you couldn’t be playful. You knew that Harrison was as invested in your little game as you were. The rules may have changed a bit but it was still on. You had no idea what it meant for your friendship but it was too intoxicating to stop. Now that Tom was not there you could let yourself fully focus on it. You loved the feeling of uncertainty and on the other hand, you wanted to see how far you could push Harrison’s buttons. You were curious how much of it he could handle and if he would snap at some point. You couldn’t help yourself but subtly torture him with your slight touches during movie nights or walking around without a bra. You liked how worked up he always got. He would try to keep it together and act classy in front of you but eventually, you would catch him checking you out. In a way, it all felt wrong but all his attention was on you and you couldn’t help but feel good having this power over him.

When you got in the car you put on some music and looked outside the window. You didn’t want to talk to Harrison about your issues, especially not your issues with Tom so you tried to ignore his questions. Harrison, on the other hand, couldn’t find a way to make you open up to him. You two talked but he also wanted to support you when you weren’t feeling like you could handle things yourself. He remembered how Tom would complain about you being too secretive, even though you’ve known each other for years. That’s how he knew he would have to work hard for you to warm up to him. But that was the effort he wanted to put in. In the blonde’s eyes, you were the most intriguing person he has ever met. You two first came across in the cafe he worked at. You used to go there for some tea every day after classes during your first year. He’s been watching you for some time before trying to talk to you. One day his colleague dared him to get your number after he caught Harrison drooling over you during his break. So he gathered the courage and shot his shot. You two talked until the end of his break. He tried to get your number but you gave him your Instagram account instead. Soon you started to text each other and became really good friends. He would ask for your number a few more times but you always rejected him telling him to work for it. Harrison laughed to himself and shook his head. Even at the beginning of your friendship, you bossed him around.

“What’s so funny?” you asked, a bit confused by his sudden outburst.

“I just remembered how you used to reject me when we first met.” he turned to give you a small smile and started the engine.

“Oh yeah… You were desperate,” you smirked at him, knowing it would cause a good reaction and you weren’t wrong. Harrison gasped, abruptly turning to face you with fake hurt painted on his face.

“I wasn’t desperate! I just saw a pretty girl and wanted to take her out on a date but you were playing hard to get so you lost your chance,” he said it so casually you thought you didn’t hear him right.

“You evidently hadn’t worked hard enough,” you shrugged as if you didn’t care but in reality, your heart rate has sped up. You hoped that Harrison couldn’t hear your shallow breath. You never knew he wanted to take you out on a date and you didn’t know how you felt about it. The thought of him liking you more than just a friend brought butterflies in your stomach to life, making your whole body shiver. Maybe he wanted to take you on a date before. That doesn’t mean he’s still into you.

“So what should I do to get you to agree to go on a date with me?” the knot in your stomach tightened as his voice dropped down an octave. Was it possible he was still interested after all this time?

“I thought I lost my chance,” trying to keep it cool you exhaled softly hoping that the blonde didn’t notice how you squirmed lightly in your seat.

“Well… It depends,” he moved a little bit closer to you catching eye contact.

“On what?” you whispered gently trying not to raise your voice in fear that you would interrupt the moment.

Harrison’s voice matched yours as he whispered “How hard you can work after,” Noticing your disgusted look, he started to laugh deeply.

“Oh God, your jokes are so poor,” you shook your head at him, not finding his joke amusing.

“Oh come on, I know you’ve been dreaming about it,” he wiggled his eyebrows at you. Maybe, just maybe you have thought of it once or twice but you’d rather die than admit it to him. "Besides my jokes aren't half as bad as yours"

“Whatever, Osterfield,” you tried to turn around and fasten your seat belt not in the mood to argue but he stopped your actions again.

“Hey look... I want you to have fun today, okay?” his voice softened as he took your hand in his and started to caress your palm. “I know we joke a lot and stuff.. But I really want to give you something to remember, a memory you would always smile at when thinking of it… or when thinking of me,” he chuckled as if he thought he was never on your mind. Oh, how wrong was he. “Just forget about everything and enjoy the moment. Can you do that for me?” you thought you would melt under his gaze. He was looking at you so lovingly with a dazzling smile that couldn’t make you disagree with him. You felt like his ocean blue eyes were piercing your soul, taking your breath away. After a moment you realised that you could look into them for hours memorising the way his pupils dilated when he was looking at you.

“A-alright, I will.” you stuttered but still smiled at him and held eye contact. You didn’t know it was possible but his grin got even bigger causing you to do the same.

“Pinky promise?”

“Pinky promise,” he smiled at you for the last time and turned around to start driving. Harrison said he planned something special for you. You didn’t know what the evening was about to bring but you knew you were screwed.

Taglist: @osterfieldshollandgirl, @tom-holland-is-spiderman-archive, @harryhollandsgirlfriend, @peachyafshawn

#tom holland story #tom holland series #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland #harrison osterfield x reader #harrison osterfeild imagine #harrison osterfield #harrison osterfeild x reader

[that-good-trash]

Burn Away With Me 2

Shoto Todoroki x reader / Dabi x reader????

Warnings: mentions of death, profanity, kidnap, Angst,

Word count: 6,315

Part 1

Summary: Kidnap and murder usually go hand in hand but not like this. The world thinks your dead and you have to watch them mourn you like a princess locked away in a tower. Except princes don’t look for dead girls. You might just have to rely on the villain who took you.  

Comment: Sorry I haven’t been posting but I’m back. This took longer than I thought and there will be a third part. I’ve decided to make this a series while I work on other fic ideas. Which if any of you have any suggestions or ideas I totally need inspiration for more one shots and series’s. I hope you all enjoy. 

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

You were dead.

At least that’s what everyone thought, was told, had ‘witnessed’. In a way you were dead because having to watch the world exist without you, killed you. Watching Shoto in interviews and reading article about him made you wish you had actually died since he was lifeless. You had agreed to this so you were an accessary to his misery. The one thing you always promised was to never abandon him, to always love him. You had failed to keep that promise. You were now causing him pain and couldn’t even apologize for it.

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

After your Hollywood murder, your vanishing act, you had woken up in an unfamiliar place that smelled damp and musty, like mildew under week old wet carpet. It was toxic to your nose which had become a little sensitive from living a modern clean life. You were wearing a jacket that wasn’t yours that smelled faintly of burning charcoal and cigarettes. While lifting the overly long sleeves you had become aware that you lacked any chest covering. You were naked besides the jacket and silk panties you wore under it. It wasn’t like you had time to pack, hell you actually hadn’t expected to ever wake up again. Trusting a villain was dicey, it could backfire terribly and you couldn’t figure out yet if it had. You were alive. That wasn’t for sure a good thing. The room you were in had a bed, which you were laying in, the sheets were stained and slightly charred in places. There was a single window and two doors, one leading into a closet, the other you didn’t know where. An old suitcase sat in the corner and you didn’t really want to know what was in it. Outside the door you could hear the sound of talking, it was staticky meaning it was coming from a TV or radio. You had gotten off the bed hugging the long black coat against your body as you made your way to the door. Fear flooded your veins. You had no idea what Dabi’s plan had been. While you slept the news of your death spread across all media. You weren’t even aware of this. You were thinking that this was a kidnap ransom thing. As the knob turned you could hear the voices a little more clearly. It was a TV, the light shining down the short hallway. You walked toward it before feeling your heart stop. Across the bottom of the screen was your name, your real name and hero name. It was the words that followed that made your legs give out. Now on your knees with shaking shoulders you read the headline, hear the news caster.

[ L/n F/n – Hero Name, was found murdered in her shared home.]

“Her fiancé Todoroki Shoto cannot be reached at this time but we mourn his lose.” You read the words and listen to the tail end of his sentence piecing together what had happened. The image changed from the inside of the news room to a helicopter view, footage taken hours ago. Your shared home had been surrounded by police vehicle’s and you watch Shoto rush out of his car and directly into the house. A sob escapes as you watch the police and pro heroes look down and away. You couldn’t hear anything other than the helicopter but you could imagine he was screaming your name. What was left behind? That’s when you became all too aware of a throbbing pain in your left hand. Looking down at your hand you scream, your ring finger is missing. How the hell hadn’t you realized this to begin with. There were so many pieces missing to this fucked up puzzle. How the hell did you get here? Where the hell was here? Where was Dabi and better yet your god damn finger? These questions invaded your mind as you watched the screen continue to show pictures of you with claims of death. You weren’t dead and if you were this was one hell of an afterlife. Purgatory was a shitty back alley apartment.

“When we, the public, were informed of L/n’s death everyone wanted to hear what the Todoroki family had to say, specifically Endeavor. His interview shows his conflicted emotions and many are quick to blame grief for his lack of emotion.”

You watch the interview and listen to your future father in laws words. He didn’t care. You had stopped crying as you watched him speak on your behalf. How dare he claim to know what you wanted. If you weren’t aware of the real mastermind, you’d think he tried to have you killed. How could someone be so heartless. You had spent so much time trying to prove you were worthy of Shoto even though your lover told you that you were more than enough. The social pressure Endeavor put on you was suffocating and you were really starting to realize that just by watching some shitty interview he did for publicity. Your hands were clenched into fist despite the pain in your left hand. You stood up a little too fast and fell backward. You never hit the floor, instead a hot hand caught you. You sighed in relief before staring into your kidnapper’s eyes. You weren’t weak or none confrontational. Your eyes burned with fury, your lips twitching with words brewing behind them.

“You son of a bitch, You bastard.”

“Woah, no reason to bring my mom into this, though I will say you’d be right about my father.” He was so smug as he held up his hands in defense against your hissed insults. He had expected tears and fear not an enraged hurricane. “Now calm down, what’s got you so pissed?”

“YOU FUCKING KILLED ME!” Your eyes were bulging out and your breathing was unsteady. Your eyebrows knit together as you glared him down with hell fire behind your eyes. You looked like a savage. Like a crazed lunatic. Instead of looking scared or remorseful he just backup against the tattered couch. His arms crossed and he lifted a brow. His smirk told you that he found this entertaining.

“Um, you seem pretty alive to me doll. You can’t believe everything you hear on TV.” He laughed at his own joke, or maybe the pathetic chaotic state you were in. As you heaved your chest in exasperation. You realized that you’d made a huge mistake. You killed yourself off on your own accord, you should have fought back then maybe you’d be in Shoto’s arms and not on every news station. If you had been kidnapped people would be looking for you but they aren’t. No one is looking for you. In an instant all anger subsided. You were tired, in pain, scared, pissed, lonely, dispirited, you were dead. Your shoulders slumped with no fight lingering. You let the wall catch you before sliding down it. Your head fell heavy into your hands before settling between your bend legs. You weren’t looking at him, but Dabi did seem a tad guilty. He pushed off the couch walking toward you. He dropped down, squatting in front of you. His fingers brush your hair out of your face, you slap his hand away looking at him with feral eyes that had tears bottled in them. A sigh escaped as he stood up, he could hear the TV mention your name. He watched people on the screen hold candles standing along a dark street. This was live. He yanked you off the ground and pulled you out of the apartment making sure he covered you with a scarf he snatched from the rickety coat rack. You didn’t know where he was taking you but when you ended up on the roof of this building you panicked. Was he going to actually kill you? Maybe that would be better for you. Instead you feel your face yanked toward a specific location. This building was old and crumbling but it was tall. It seemed to be taller than plenty of the buildings near it. As you looked off squinting you saw lights in the distance.

“What are you trying to show me?”

“Shh.” You were pissed. What the hell was his problem. Frustrated you cross your arms feeling the cold breeze and get a little less mad and grow shy after remembering again your lack of coverage. You go to ask if you can return to the apartment but he points and you follow. The city lights disappear and in a Disney moment the sky seems to light up. You watch from the ground miles away lights move like waves and from the tops of buildings lanterns fade into the sky. You watched in awe.

“They are mourning the loss of a true hero, you.”

He’s not looking at you but instead watching the lights. His hands are stuffed into his pockets and he doesn’t look at you as you collapse to the cold dirty roof ground. You scream into the illuminated darkness. It’s painful, like a wolf crying out for its mate after receiving a fatal wound. A howl of sorrow and agony. Was Shoto watching these lights mourning you as well? Your knees pressed into the harsh concrete beneath you cutting into them. Dabi stood next to your broken shaking form, his hands sat inside his pant pockets. He was watching the sky letting you fall apart. He had been in a similar situation before, having to mourn his own death.

It felt like hours had passed by the time you ran out of tears. Your knees hurt from the embedded concrete, your hands were shaking and your fingertips had the slightest tint of purple. You were cold, practically naked, empty, and alone. No one knew you were alive besides the person who killed you. The sky was no longer lit up and you wondered if this was goodbye. If this was how your life as a hero ended. You didn’t get a huge battle like All Might at Kamino, or Sir Nighteye’s battle with Overhaul. You didn’t get to retire or die in a heroic way, instead people would remember you as the hero who died in her home, murdered by some mystery villain. You knew in a week you’d be old news and everyone would be talking about this in the future like it was a part of Shoto’s tragic backstory. You stood up before almost falling directly back down. You catch yourself by grabbing onto Dabi. He winks at you which you react to with disgust. He nods toward the door and you walk toward it leading the way. You think for a moment that running off the side of the building would be a good escape plan. He knows what you’re thinking as he links your arm with his own and pulls you along back into the building and eventually into the hellscape of an apartment. You yank yourself free before walking to the couch and falling back onto it with a huff. You were pouting because he had caught onto your plan, because you had to be here in this disgusting shithole.

“This place is gross.” Dabi raises a brow before laughing, his laughter echoes throughout the small room.

“Sorry this isn’t a five-star hotel princess.”

“It doesn’t have to be a luxury hotel; it just has to be livable. The TV looks like it’s from the 80’s and the carpet feels damp. This couch smells like you set it on fire and it’s still burning. The bed room has various stains in various places. I haven’t even seen the bathroom but I imagine it’s even worse, oh god I can’t live here.” You weren’t prissy or someone with high standards, this place was just literal hell and since you were dead it was even worse. You could imagine that Dabi wasn’t going to let you leave whenever you wanted so having to be stuck in this place was going to drive you insane.

“I think you sound be more concerned with clothing than housing. You have a roof and a bed; you have no clothes.” Dabi made a very good point that you forgot in your depression over the living situation. You throw your head back letting out another frustrated sob.

“Fuck, you should have just killed me.” You thought you ran out of tears and yet some slid down your cheek. You were frustrated and wanted nothing more than to curl up against your fiancé while he comforts you but you couldn’t do that.

“This isn’t forever. My plan just needs to go accordingly and you should be free to go. Think of this as summer camp or a stake out mission.” You looked at Dabi skeptically. He stared back lacking any intension to deceive you.

“Tomorrow night I’ll bring you by some clothes. If you really hate this place so much, I’ll let you clean and decorate it. Give me a list of shit you need tomorrow and I’ll see what I can do. Your stuck with me and when I’m not here you are going to be under house arrest. You don’t get to leave and if I find out you tried; I’ll show you exactly why you shouldn’t disobey me.” His eyes darkened at the end. He wasn’t the smug Dabi but one who truly would turn you into ash. Minutes ago, you would have chosen to be burn alive rather than have this as your life but that was quick to change with the hope that you would actually be released. Dabi wasn’t all that bad, scary kind of but not bad. Clothes were a blessing you couldn’t wait for. The ability to make this place livable also enticed you. He really knew how to get you to stop whining. A smile spread across your face and Dabi raised a brow. He expected a thank you, he shouldn’t have.

“You’re still a fucking asshole who kidnapped and ‘murdered’ me so don’t go thinking I like you or want to rely on you. The idea of being burned alive is almost tempting when compared to living here with you as my only company.” All this was still served with your smile. You stood up and let the coat tail spin behind you as you walked off to the bedroom. “I’m a size [Y/size], don’t forget that.”

The door shut leaving Dabi alone in the living room. His head falls backward and a chuckle escapes passed his lips. “Damn, what a weird girl. Can see why you like her little bro.”

His hands dip back into his pockets as he leaves the apartment. Once on the street below the dirty building he looks up toward your window. It’s hidden away in the alley. You are looking out it hoping for a view but there isn’t one. He knows how miserable you are but also knows you’re a fighter who will survive. He lights up a cigarette as he disappears into the night. You are left sitting on a dusty windowsill thinking about your would-be husband, your almost widow. You wonder what he was doing, how he was doing. Were his friends with him? A single tear slips down your cheek and onto the window sill mixing into the dusk leaving a dirty mark. A melancholy laugh puffs passed your lips. You close yours eyes remembering the first time the two of you met. Remembering how falling in love happened slowly then all at once.

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Shoto Todoroki was an emotionless teenager when you met him. You were older than him by a year and met him by complete accident. You both attended UA and he got lost ending up near one of your classes. He ran into you as you rushed to deliver paperwork to the office. More like you ran into him. Instead of swooning over the mismatched eyes and hair like most girls did you pushed passed him. “Sorry gotta go, next time watch where you’re going.”

You had found him outside your classroom afterschool waiting for you. You were confused as he looked at you with about as much emotion as a wall. Hell, you’d seen walls with more emotion. He was like a red and white brick. Your fellow classmates walked around you, some whispering questions amongst each other. You were as confused as they were.

“Um why are you here?”

“You ran into me.” You raised a brow at his blunt accusation. You thought back to earlier and indeed you ran into him. You should have apologized seriously earlier but now you were curious. He waited out here just to tell you that.

“Earlier I was walking down this hallway and you ran into me, then you proceeded to tell me to watch where I was going when you were the one who should have watched herself.” A child, a first year, a stranger was scolding you. A normal person would apologize or defend themselves. You weren’t normal. Instead you laughed at him. He didn’t like that but his irritation subsided into concern. What had he said that was so funny? This seemed like a very serious topic, had he told it like a joke? “Why are you laughing?”

“You seriously waited out here, outside my classroom, just to scold me. Man, you are taking justice pretty seriously, that or I offended your pride as a man. Is it that one? Did I make you feel less of a man because I pushed you while blaming you for my own neglectfulness?” Shoto couldn’t believe how you spoke to him. His cheeks actually heated up from embarrassment and that never happened. People didn’t usually speak to or toward him like this. It was, different? You patted his head when he didn’t speak but just stood there like an old windows computer trying to start up.

“See yah.”

“Wait.” You stopped behind him and turned around. He was facing you with conflicting emotions. “What are you doing right now?”

“I have training, why?” You were put off slightly by his change in attitude.

“Can I watch.” Okay that sounded stalkerish. “I have a classmate who likes to collect information on people’s quirks. You’re from class 2A so I assume you have a unique or powerful quirk. I think he’d like to watch and I have to write a report on quirk studies so…”

Bullshit, it was all bullshit, you knew it he knew it. The janitor that passed awkwardly knew it. This boy would die of embarrassment if you brought it up. A sigh slips out and you can’t say no because you are already late and at least this would give you an excuse to give your teacher. “Sure.”

After getting changed you found four underclassmen staring at you. It was uncomfortable and almost comedic. You never really brought attention to yourself, actually class 2A never really attracted too much attention. The dual hair colored boy stood next to a green haired boy who seemed really excited to see you. The other two consisted of a taller blue haired boy with glasses and a shorter round cheeked brunette. You actually realized you knew all four of them. A grin spread across your face as you pointed at them.

“You guys are from class 1A. I watched you guys at the sports festival and I watched you guys at the school festival. Oh man you are Midoriya Izuku, you’re Iida Tenya, Uraraka Ochako, and that makes you Todoroki Shoto. They all looked amazed that you knew their names. Hell, it was hard to not when everyone talked about the class of villain fighting heroes. They were famous and you had mocked the class heartthrob. It made you laugh because you had classmates that found him hot with his cold demeanor and mysterious scar. When you looked at him you saw a socially awkward kid.

“You’re L/n F/n! Your quirk is so cool! I read about it in a book Mr. Aizawa had about former students. I would love to be able to see it in action! Would that be okay?” He was enthusiastic and you couldn’t say no. You also needed to get to training because you were even more late now. After a nod they all followed you to the training grounds. Other students looked at you and laughed at your entourage. They made teasing comments while others swooned over Shoto. You rolled your eyes. Training mattered more than some dumb boy. Little did you know how wrong you were at that moment. Running into him that afternoon started a domino effect. He had watched you never looking away as you fought. You were mesmerizing. He hadn’t heard a word said by his friends. It was cliché but he was captivated by you.

After that day Shoto found himself following you a lot. He would meet you after class and watch you train or go with you to the library. It was awkward to you but kind of cute. He opened up to you about his past and you didn’t cry. Instead you smiled and held his hands. You told him that he was strong and that his past would never define his future. He had fallen deeper and deeper in love with you, who seemed so far out of his league. Little did he know that he filled your thoughts. You always wondered what he was doing or thinking. You learned to make soba so the two of you could eat while watching the sunset. He missed being around you when you were at your work studies but he supported you behind the scenes. Eventually the two of you were inseparable, until graduation. You stood amongst your fellow classmates laughing and smiling, beaming with pride that you had made it. Everyone had flowers and gifts except you. You turned when someone had called your name. It was Shoto standing facing you, he had a bouquet of your favorite flowers with red streaked across his cheeks. He said something but you couldn’t hear over the crowds. As you walked closer you tried to hear him better. You kept yelling that you couldn’t hear so he mouthed it slowly and you realized what he said; I love you. Your heart stopped and all of a sudden no one else mattered. The loud crowd disappeared leaving just you and Todoroki. Your legs kicked off the ground flinging yourself the distance tackling him into a hug. He dropped the flowers, wrapping his arms around you.

“I love you too.” He cried against your shoulder because he hadn’t known love like this. Your love was something he gained and his trust was something you had fought for. He loved you and you loved him and that was all the mattered. That time felt so far away but in reality, it was only 3 ½ years ago. You’d been with him for 3 ½ years and engaged for six months. It wasn’t always perfect but you wouldn’t have traded it for anything, except you did trade it. You traded it for some shitty apartment and a death sentence. You were truly the villain of this story.  

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It took Dabi two days to ‘find/steal’ the things on your shopping list. He brought you a haul of ‘crap’ and clothing of various sizes. You were miserable but this was one thing that made you smile through the depression. Cleaning supplies gave you something to occupy your time. A small chipped table for the eating nook next to the tiny kitchen, a dresser with mismatched paint and broken drawers. A clean set of blankets, sheets, and towels found a home on the bed and in the closet in the hallway. It wasn’t perfect but you were excited to put them where you wanted. It was like an interior design show for the less fortunate. Dabi sat on the couch with a bottle of bourbon while watching people play hero on the TV. You cleaned around him. He wrinkled his nose when you poured carpet cleaner everywhere. The apartment smelled of bleach and lemon by the time you finished. He was actually impressed, a smirk spread across his face as you flopped down on the couch. The large blanket he got you covered the dirty stains on it. He looked you over, noticing how you looked good in the wore torn jeans and oversized t-shirt he got you. It was casual and he liked it. He imagined from what you had come from that you wore a lot of blouses and skirts rather than this.

“You did a good job. I’d give the place two stars.” You hit him with the towel sitting on your shoulder. He laughed noticing your eye roll. “I gotta leave for a few days. While I’m gone you better behave and maybe I’ll bring you a treat.”

“Fuck you.” He had gotten used to your foul mouth and wondered how such an energetic snarky girl ended up with tight ass Shoto who only showed emotions like confusion and anger. He pushed off the couch. He needed to go back to the league and knew he couldn’t involve you in it. You were dead and it needed to stay that way. The league would use you for a different goal and he couldn’t let that happen. He grabbed his coat throwing it over his shoulder along with a wink and kiss to you. You blinked with an annoyed face before catching the kiss throwing it to the ground grinding it under your foot. His laugh could be heard even after the door closed behind him. You were once again alone which changed your demeanor from aggressive to weary. Your eye lids drooped and your shoulders fell. Your legs found themselves pulled onto the couch with your arms wrapped around them. You watched the news hearing segments talking about Deku saving three people from a fire and Red Riot helping catch a bank robber. You smiled happy for them. You never resented them, instead you rooted for your fellow heroes. They were saving the day while you scrubbed strange stains out of ancient carpet.

“As you all know we recently lost hero/name and it’s been hard to cope. This Saturday is her funeral. It is not an open viewing but we were informed that citizens are allowed to place mementos and grieve afterward outside the building. We are also being told to remind people to let hero Shoto grieve and not to bother him if you see him in public.”

Whatever was said afterword you didn’t hear because you were processing the new information. You were going to be buried, this makes it even more real. Chest tightening you stumbled off the couch reaching for the remote. Silence surrounds you as the TV clicks off. The room in spinning and you feel as if you are actually in a small box being buried. You cover your ears begging the world to stop spinning and for the voices to stop. You hear your friends giving eulogy’s, you hear crying and whispers of disappointment. You were a hero how did you lose. The ground hit you, wait no, you hit the ground. Your legs had given out and you were sobbing into the carpet, you could taste the chemicals you had used earlier. At the moment you didn’t care, not about the taste or about anything else. You had a request for Dabi that you knew wouldn’t fly well. You wanted to attend your own funeral.

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A week after your ‘murder’ came your funeral. There were strict rules enforced by Dabi, you weren’t allowed to leave the apartment for obvious reasons. This rule prevented you from going but you got to watch it. After begging for some kind of way to be there Dabi returned with a laptop that had shaky footage. You didn’t know who was recording it and knew better than to ask. The footage wasn’t perfect but it gave you what you wanted. Dabi offered to leave you alone but you didn’t want to be alone. The sounds of sniffling were caught coming from many guests. The building was gorgeous. Huge with marble walls and columns near the entrance. It felt like you were at a Greek wedding not a funeral. Everyone was adorned in black. You didn’t recognize the people near the camera person. The camera angle moved and you gasped, walking down the aisle leading toward the end of the room where you assumed a casket laid were your friends. You had friends from your own classes but these weren’t them. These were the friends you made through Shoto. Midoriya walked, his hand holding tightly onto Uraraka’s, she was crying. You smiled sadly at her through the screen. They were an adorable couple who you always rooted for. Now they were finding comfort in each other mourning you. Following behind them was Kirishima with Bakugou, Bakugou looked good in a suit but his red eyes made the red around them stand out more. You felt bad since you knew how much he hated feeling or looking weak. Kirishima was smiling but it held pain. There were many other classmates following behind but the camera turned to watch people gather around the front doors. Your hands flew over your mouth and Dabi had to catch the laptop before it fell from your lap. He placed it on the coffee table angling it so you could watch without dropping it. He wanted to scoff at your pain because he couldn’t understand why you would be sad. This was all a game, a show put on for the media. No one really cared for others this much, or maybe they did, Dabi just knew that he didn’t understand why the dead felt bad for the living.

“Please let him through.” Tenya was signaling people to move away from Shoto. Once the crowds dispersed you could see him. He looked like he hadn’t slept in months, his eyes bloodshot with black holes surrounding them. His cheeks were hollowing, and the rest of him looked thinner. He hadn’t been eating. His hair wasn’t styled and seemed messier, longer. His skin was dull and lifeless, like his eyes. He walked like he had no idea where he was going. Tenya held his shoulder walking with him like a guide. Had Tenya been watching over him for you? You hope someone was, you hope someone will intervene and stop his self-destruction. The camera follows as close as it can and you don’t know how much you can watch. In the front, stood rows of chairs for close family and friends. Your mother was wiping her eyes with her head against your fathers’ shoulder. They looked at the casket that you knew was empty. The camera watched Shoto tap their shoulders. They stood up and hugged him. He was apologizing to them; they didn’t take the apology. Your parents were always fond of him. They wouldn’t blame him. Shoto sat down away from them, Natsuo and Fuyumi sat next to him. Natsuo was rubbing his sisters’ shoulder as she sobbed into her handkerchief. The seat next to them was empty, reserved for Endeavor, for someone who wouldn’t show up. Natsuo had told you before that Endeavor didn’t do funerals, he even missed his own sons. You were actually glad that he wasn’t there, he didn’t deserve to be there. Dabi noticed your change from a forlorn stare to one filled with scorn. He knew you had been thinking about Endeavor, he knew because he had felt he same thing. He had been in the same situation watching people cry over him while the person that caused it was MIA. He watched the footage continue and could feel you stiffen up as people got up to speak. Speech after speech drained you of tears and life. You looked like you were actually dying as you watched Shoto stand behind the mic.

“I don’t want to talk much. I could stand here and tell you every tiny detail about F/n that I love, that I miss. I could tell you about her but I won’t. Instead I’ll say this and only this. I will not sleep, I will not eat, I will not rest till the killer is caught. No one even cares that this was a murder. She isn’t dead, she was murdered and while the rest of you cry and live your comfy lives, I’ll be out there taking down her killer.”

A sentimental speech is what you expected but received a promise of revenge. People gasped and shook their heads in disbelief. It was tasteless to people but to you it meant he fell right into Dabi’s clutches. Dabi was smiling with knowing eyes. He already knew this would happen. He knew all along and you couldn’t be mad because apart of you hoped this would get you back in his arms faster. The rest of the funeral went by without much problem. You watched the casket be lowered into a hole and buried with goodbyes and bundles of flowers. Shoto was the only one left besides the camera man. He put the camera down walking over to Shoto. You gasped as the winged hero put a hand on Shoto’s back apologizing for his lose. Shoto didn’t react while Hawks picked up the camera and turned it off. You watched the black screen feeling your hands shake, you slowly turn to Dabi.

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to.” You did was answers. You needed to know why the number 2 hero of Japan, Endeavors subordinate, was doing Dabi a favor. You had heard about heroes helping villains and selling secrets but this was to close to home. What the hell was happening. “Please Dabi, tell me what’s happening. Why was Hawks there? Why was he recording for you?”

“We all have secrets doll. I can’t tell you to much but I can tell you he owed me a favor and this was how he was repaying me. I needed to see your funeral as well to make sure my plan was actually working. It is and Shoto seems to be playing the game as intended. Soon enough you’ll be trading your stained walls in for your old egg shell white ones. Your pumpkin will turn back into a carriage sweetheart and while your dancing with the prince, I’ll have the kings head on a stick.” You knew he wanted Endeavor but you finally started piecing together exactly how he was going to do it. He was going to use Shoto to kill him or capture him. Either way Shoto was now a pawn on the same board as you. Dabi was playing the game against a cheater, someone who wouldn’t lose easily. Endeavor was not an easy man to break. This was going to be harder than manipulating your husband and you knew that.

“I want to help.”

“You already have. You being dead gives Shoto reason to kill. To go against his hero code. As long as you stay dead and he seeks revenge all goes well. I get what I deserve.” His phone beeps and he’s leaving you. The laptop goes with him, you don’t mind because there isn’t anything you can do on it anyway. You walk to the window watching his figure disappear into the foggy street. What an ugly night. You went to bed and curled up with a book Dabi had brought you.

Elsewhere Shoto stood in the darkness of an alley behind his fathers’ agency. Hawks walked by talking on the phone with someone not noticing the boy’s presence. Shoto waited and slipped into the building before the door closed. He couldn’t be caught using the codes or else they’d know it was him. He knew how to avoid the cameras, how to maneuver the building without getting caught. He found himself outside the large office he had been in plenty of times. To think it would be his father’s final resting place, it was perfect justice. He went to push the door open but hesitated when he heard him talking to someone.

“I offered her money, I offered her positions outside the country, Hell I had other heroes try to seduce her but nothing worked. She was hell bent on staying with Shoto. I couldn’t allow her to ruin his chances at being the number 1 hero. He needed to focus and if he were to marry it should be to someone with a quirk that complimented his. I needed her out of the picture and to think someone else took care of it before we had too.” Shoto knew his father was shitty, manipulative, abusive and so many other fucked up things but this was something else. This was beyond shitty and abusive. This was evil and a power trip. His father may not have killed you but he was going to get what he deserved for playing a part in it. The door opened under his touch and when he walked in his father turned a huge smirk across his face.

“Oh Shoto, I was just going to call you.” He put his phone down and Shoto was able to make out the name of the contact he had just been talking to, Hawks. He thought back to the funeral and pieced together theories. Hawks had a part in this and he was going to find out exactly what happened to you. His arm encases itself in fire the other arm freezing the exits. He stares at his still smirking father. “This isn’t a friendly visit. You’re going to tell me you killed Y/n and then I’m going to decide if I should kill you now or slowly torture you first.”    

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[dolce-peach]

Loki x reader, reader is an avenger but also a director and famous screenwriter for the avengers movie that hollywood wanted to make in honor of the avengers and she is brought in as a producer and helps with the script. And Loki finds out she puts him in a good light and argues for his honor when the other people were talking bad about him and trying to make him play as the villain

your light

pairing: loki x reader

warnings: fluff, slight language

a/n: kinda short but i love wholesome, soft loki 🥺  hope you like it, anon!

permanent taglist: @kaitlynmalikisnotonfire​ @just-another-loki-fanblog​

** TO MAKE A REQUEST -- please check the status in my bio **

masterlist

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“Oh, this won’t fly,” the director said to you as he flipped through the script.

You furrowed your brow with confusion.  “What?  Why?”  You sighed.  “John, you asked me to create a firsthand view of life with the Avengers.  Being one myself, I think my view is fairly accurate.”

He shook his head.  “Oh, no, everything is accurate.  There’s just one bit,” he explained, pointing at a particular section in the packet.

Your eyes followed his finger.  “Loki?”

“He nearly destroyed all of New York City, Y/N, fucking New York!  It’d be different if it were a little blip out in the country, but this is as American as it gets,” he said.  

You tried to keep your annoyance in check.  “With all due respect, it has been proven that New York was not entirely Loki’s doing.  He was under the influence of a more powerful entity.”

“Yeah, the Mind Stone, as you’ve written.”

“Yes, and --”  You stopped.  “You don’t believe me.”

“It’s not a matter of belief,” he said.  “The entire world still sees Loki as a threat.  What good will it do to try to paint him in a better light when he was born to be the villain?”

You pursed your lips, your patience slipping.  “Like it or not, Loki has been part of the Avengers for years now.  He has done his best to atone for his mistakes.  Including my say in the script will only help that.”

As the director opened his mouth to say more, you shook your head, putting a hand on his shoulder.  “Why don’t you sleep on it, John?  Give me a call tomorrow morning.”

He looked reluctant, but sighed nonetheless.

Your heart was still beating hard as you left the production office to go home.  You sighed the entire drive back.

Of course, it would be harder for other people to see Loki the way you did, but you never expected everyone to be so hellbent on making him the villain through and through.  You couldn’t even imagine the constant torment Loki had to endure every time he went out.

No wonder he stays at home.

By the time you got back to the compound, you were beat.  You barely made it to your room before collapsing on your bed, throwing your briefcase sloppily to the other side of the room.

Just before sleep could take you, you felt a presence at your door.

“Bad day?” Loki asked, leaning against your door frame in a casual pair of sweatpants.

“Men,” was all you needed to say, earning a small roll of the eyes and a sigh from the God of Mischief.

“Would you like me to stab them?”

You laughed as you rolled over to sit up.  “No, that wouldn’t be good.”

“I suppose it wouldn’t,” he chuckled.  “Also, I meant that as a joke.”

“I know.”  You stretched before slowly getting to your feet.  “I’m gonna shower.  Don’t touch anything.”

Loki rolled his eyes again.  “You know I won’t.”

As you grabbed a change of clothes and retreated to the bathroom, Loki saw your briefcase upside down and open, papers strewn everywhere.  He sighed before going to straighten it up, only to have his name catch his eye.  He thanked his lucky stars for being able to read English.

As he read through the section, his brow grew deeper and deeper.  Is this really what you thought of him?  He glanced at the closed bathroom door with a thoughtful expression.  It was certainly quite a change from people screaming when they saw him or the looks of fear he received.  

You opened the bathroom door, yawning.

“Feeling better?” Loki asked, his eyes still on your script.

“Loads,” you said.  You noticed him holding your script and frowned.  “Loki.”

He dropped it on your desk, eyes slightly wide.  “I know.  I was only --”

“It’s okay.”

He looked away, his ears red.  “Thank you.”

You furrowed your brow.  “What for?”

“You paint me in such a charming light,” he said.  “I don’t know if I’m entirely deserving of it.”

You sighed.  “Loki, we’ve talked about this,” you said.  “New York wasn’t your fault.  You can’t let what people say about you get to your head.  It’s not worth it.”

“I know,” he said as he walked over and placed a kiss on your forehead.  “But still, thank you.”

You laughed.  “You’re not normally like this.”

“It means a lot.”

“I can tell.”

Before Loki could say more, your phone rang.

“Hello?” you said.

“Y/N, it’s John.”

You immediately perked up.  “Oh, hi,” you said.  “I wasn’t expecting your call until tomorrow.”

“I thought enough about it,” he said.  “We’ll go through with your script.”

You could scarcely believe your ears.  “I-I’m sorry?”

“Don’t make me say it again.”

“Sorry, sir, I won’t.  I just wanted to make sure,” you said, barely containing your happiness.

He chuckled on the other side of the line.  “See you tomorrow then.”

“Yes, thank you!”

When you hung up the phone, you’d forgotten Loki was there.  He gazed at you with wonder and admiration.  He found himself pulling you in for a soft kiss.

You pulled back with a laugh.  “You don’t even know what I was talking about.”

“I don’t need to,” he said.  “Your happiness is enough.”

#anon #anonymous #request #soft loki #loki #loki laufeyson #loki imagine #loki fanfiction #loki x reader #loki x you #avengers x reader #avengers x you #avenger!reader #avengers imagine #avengers fanficiton #avengers #marvel #mcu #marvel imagine #marvel fanfiction #mcu imagine #mcu fanfiction #fluff

[popwasabi]

“The Other Guys” wants cops to go after the real criminals

Before director/writer Adam McKay pivoted into populist screed’s against capitalism and political corruption in films like “Vice” and “The Big Short” he was largely known as one of the many “dumb comedy” directors working in Hollywood.

In fact, with major productions such as “Anchorman,” “Talladega Nights,” and “Step Brothers” he could almost be billed as THE dumb comedy director or certainly THE Will Ferrell director at least.

(To a certain extent, THE John C. Reilly director too.)

Those movies are certainly divisive amongst some filmgoers, as you either fall into the “turn your brain off and laugh” category or the “this is pure nonsense” crowd. I’m somewhat in the middle on all of it but one McKay/Ferrell vehicle provided a bridge between the “dumb comedy” years and his more serious satires of American politics and that movie was 2010’s “The Other Guys.”

Billed as just another parody of buddy cop flicks, “The Other Guys” is a comedy that still holds up pretty well by today’s standards. Mark Wahlberg in many ways plays an unhinged caricature of every tough guy persona he has ever played in detective Hoitz and perhaps more brilliantly Ferrell, as detective Gamble, is allowed to be the straight man of the duo for change, finding humor in a more subdued performance. Together they form a kinetic duo that play hilariously well off each other in a film that is rarely dull from start to finish.

(Flawless logic here in the famous Tuna vs Lion debate)

“The Other Guys” takes some decent shots at the violent nature of cop culture from excessive police overreach in the film’s hilarious opening scene to cops’ shoot first ask questions later approach with detective Hoitz backstory involving shooting Dereck Jeter during game 7 of the World Series. In between more typical Ferrell comedy flare involving hot wives and ex-wives, hobo sexy orgies, and TLC references there’s a lot of pointed, tongue-in-cheek humor at the police that one can find great humor in.

It’s a descent satire of the cop movie and the culture around law enforcement on this alone but McKay’s real target isn’t the police so much as it is who the police aren’t going after.

(For the record, peacocks and cops, for that matter, don’t fly.)

2008 probably feels like eons ago to many of you at this point but it was the year I personally came of age. I had graduated high school, The Lakers were good again, “The Dark Knight” and “Iron Man” had just come out, I had hopes and dreams as I entered college at San Jose State and oh…the Great Recession had just started!

I’m not going to go into extreme detail here but our economy had it’s worse collapse since the Great Depression caused by the subprime mortgage crisis due to vast widespread failures in financial regulation, breakdowns in corporate governance, vast trading and over borrowing, housing bubbles bursting, and heads of businesses just vastly ill-equipped to handle their hubris in that moment.

Major businesses and banks were on the verge of collapsing and then at the last minute the US government passed a $700 billion, with a capital B, bailout to put them all back in the green.

Corporations like Bank of America, Citi Group, Morgan Stanley etc received between $10-$25 billion each for their struggles and were able to stay alive in the country’s ever worsening state. This was great, except 2.6 million average working-class people lost their jobs during this period, including my father.

By the way, a guy like Joseph Casano, an executive at AIG, got a $34 million bonus for helping lead companies such as his into the recession.

This is McKay’s real target in “The Other Guys.” The satirical cop humor is largely window dressing to draw audiences in to the theaters so that he can show all of them who the real criminals of this country are.

As the plot of the story starts to kick into full gear the more obvious culprits of a typical Hollywood cop movie are dismissed. Though Hoitz is convinced it’s more the usual cop movie style villains of “sex and drug traffickers” at first, Gamble slowly pieces together a plot of dastardly insider trading. What it ends up being is that the bad guy is really just a doofus hedge fund manager named David Ershon played comically by Steve Coogan who made one too many bad investments to bad people.

Ershon has put his people and the people he owes money to deeper into the red, not at all unlike the wealthy CEOs and bankers who messed up the country during the 2008 recession, and it has led him to take desperate action to get everyone’s money back. Ershon, of course, tries to get Hoitz and Gamble off his tale by bribing them in a variety of hilarious ways (one of the funnier sequences of the film) but eventually gets caught up with the SEC and those who prosecute white collar crime (who are unsurprisingly also in bed with the people he owes money to).

(Somehow, I don’t think this is far off from reality...)

Hoitz and Gamble continue on the case but find that taking on white collar crime is…complicated to say the least but most importantly ineffectual as detailed in this scene.

(Again, probably not far off from reality...)

The 2008 recession, wiped out millions of jobs, with rural parts of the country getting hit the hardest and in many ways still feeling the effects today. If you were a POC you were even more unlikely to not recover from the crash. Property values plummeted, student high education success rates dropped, opiod overdoses from “unemployment deaths” and many more awful things happened during this period of great economic distress.

And what happened to the folks largely responsible for causing this mess? They got a fat fucking payday and a dismissive finger wag largely by our own government.

“The Other Guys,” more or less, ends the same way. Despite putting away Ershon, the company he was swindling, who gambled their people’s money, was still bailed out by the US government. A real “happy ending” that is played as a dark, matter of fact, joke before the credits roll.

(Again, we laugh but how far off from reality is this really?...)

I graduated from college in 2013, tens of thousands in debt from student loans and trying to navigate a largely bereft job market where wages had largely not changed in as many years. In 2008 average rent cost about $850 a month, by 2013 it was $953, today in 2020 it’s $1,097. The average entry level salary (for a clerical/ office professional) between 2008 and 2018 went from $46,886 to $45,882 showing a decrease in value.

In 2008 the richest man in the world, Warren Buffet, was worth $64 billion. The richest man in 2020, Jeff Bezos, is worth $200 billion.

If the fact that Jeff Bezos is worth more than some countries on this planet doesn’t make you infuriated alone I don’t know what will.

Btw Buffet’s net worth increased as well to $79 billion himself, in case you think it’s “unfair” to compare him to Bezos.

Sometimes I think the reason people aren’t angrier about this worldwide is 1) a bunch of us think we are all one hard working day away from being filthy fucking rich ourselves, one of the many great lies of capitalism and 2) many of us don’t actually know just how big a BILLION dollars is, so here let me help you all out:

With COVID in 2020 we’re seeing it all happen again, just as it did in 2008. Record unemployment rates, small businesses closing, evictions skyrocketing because no one can pay rent and all we got for it was a $1,200 band-aid (assuming you did get yours). Meanwhile billionaire slugs like Bezos and Elon Musk saw their net worth rise sharply during this period, hell even the fucking Lakers got a $4.6 million dollar “small business” loan (though they did return it…only after getting caught…).

The highest sum of cash ever stolen from a bank was $18.1 million (equivalent to roughly $30.1 million now) in 1997. These are the people cops and other “loose cannons” in popular actions movies are usually running up against. If you think stealing $30.1 million is a lot of money worth sending the cops over then $700 billion of our own tax dollars given to people who ruined the lives of millions of Americans should make you fucking furious. The only real difference here is one was made legal by our own elected government.

Adam McKay’s “The Other Guys” may be on its surface just another “dumb comedy” that mostly satirizes cops, but its villains are very real and unfortunately as American as apple pie. Under capitalism our labor only continues to get devalued every year (even the skilled positions), while the richest 1% of the human race only get fatter with their wealth. Things are only getting more expensive and the working man is getting priced out of more and more daily luxuries and even essentials. This way of life is not sustainable, especially for our environment which these dragons continue to plunder, and eventually we will need to actually hold our overlords accountable for letting it get this far.

If we don’t, they will continue to steal every penny in our pocket and bleed us dry until the next disposable drone can fill our place. If law enforcement won’t take this on, sooner or later we might have to…

Remember, pimps don’t cry...

#The Other guys #will ferrell #mark wahlberg #adam mckay #comedy #satire #cops #police #blm #black lives matter #rage against the machine #punk rock #movie #film #2008 recession #covid #income inequality #bailout #eat the rich #populism #social justice #socialism #Steve coogan #Jeff Bezos #warren buffett #billions #the rich #the poor #wealth inequality #The rock

[givemequeen]

just fuck ; george x reader

i love this photo^ request: Christmas prompt 5 Hehehehe and Sorry, i meant 19. dialogue + 5 prompt with George and 2 prompt with George or Ringo Sorry rest of the boys 😅💖💕💗 prompt; 5: You say you hate one of the boys, after a Christmas party or a small gathering you have to stay the night for being a little drunk. And you spend the night with them. dialogue; 19: "Will you two shut up already! Just fuck so you can get on with your lives! a/n: i’ll do the 2 prompt later x  pairing: george x reader summary: after a party on the 24th you end up drunk and have to stay the night at Paul’s but you’re stuck with George in the bed. the next morning you end up disgusted but things change that same night at the next party. warnings: drugs, alcohol, swearing year: 1967 word count: 2075

18th of December

“That git,” you muttered to Mo as you watched George flirting with a journalist. Mo sighed and shooked her head as she downed her drink. “What is it?” you wondered looking at her, another drink on your hand.

“Nothing, yn, nothing. I need to go with Ringo,” she said standing up from her seat and walked across the dance floor leaving you alone to shoot daggers at the youngest Beatle.

“Enjoying yourself? Whatcha looking at yn?” asked Paul as he served another drink for the guests.

“What? Yeah!” you smiled at him and took a sip of the alcoholic refreshment. “Everything’s very nice.” Paul looked behind you and widened his eyes when he saw George shoving his tongue down some girl’s throat.

“Staring at Geo again? You sure you don’t like him?” teased Paul with some seriousness.

“Me? Like George? The same way I like bananas and you know I hate bananas.” you scoffed and crossed your legs.

“If you say so...” Paul said in a sing-song tone. “Well, I need to talk to some guests but make yourself at home love.” he kissed your cheek and left the kitchen. You figured you couldn’t just sit around the whole party doing absolutely nothing except complaining about George. So you hopped off the stool and downed two shots before mingling through the crowd. A song you liked came on and you found yourself dancing with another musician.

You spent the rest of the night drinking, dancing and doing drugs. George was completely out of your mind but something else was. It caused you to stay completely still and face-palm in the middle of the dance floor. “What is it?” asked the musician you were dancing with.

“Nothing, I... I need to talk to Paul, one minute,” you said holding up a finger and stumbling to Paul. He was sat chatting on the couches with someone you didn’t know personally. You plopped down on his lap and wrapped your arms around his neck. “Hey Paulieeeee,” you mumbled drunkenly. “I’m too drunk and high to go home. May I pretty please stay here?” you batter you lashes and laughed at your stupidity.

“Of course princess, do you want to go to bed now?” you shook your head but stopped immediately due to the headache it caused you. “Yeah, better not shake your head too much.” Paul chuckled and kissed your cheek. 

“Well, I’m going to go back to... Keith?” you made a face trying to remember who you had been dancing with. Paul laughed and patted your back so you would get up. 

“Go have fun yn.” he winked and you smiled before leaving and rejoining whoever you had been dancing with. This time it was Mick Jagger who you had attached yourself to.

“Having fun darling?” he asked eyeing you.

“Yes sir!” you said laughing at your own joke.

“Want to get out of here? Go to a quieter place and take these...” he raised a small zip lock bag of drugs. You focused your eyes on them and nodded. Mick smiled and dragged you to a different room where a couple more people where. You greeted everyone but most were too drugged to even notice your presence. 

“Here, take this,” he said placing two pink, round pills on your palm while he took two for himself as well. Mick downed them and you followed, your eyes trained on him as the effect took in. His face started to get deformed making you laugh. Your whole body fell heavy and you collapsed onto him, he caught you and gently laid you down on top of him. His arms went around yours and he caught your hands making waves in front of your face making you giggle. Your head fell back and you reached your his lips after having an overwhelming need to kiss him.

The door opened, normally you wouldn't have looked but something told you to so you pulled yourself from Mick and turned to see who had opened the door. There stood George, you could tell by just his outline, the light coming from the corridor made it hard to see his face but you knew it was him. “Fuck,” you swore regaining some sense. You shook your head as to clear it and attempted to get up.

“Love, wait, where are you going?” Mick said reaching for your hand.

“‘M tired, you were lovely tho.” you reached down to kiss your forehead before leaving but fell on top of him. Laughing loudly, you moved to straddle him. “Bye now,” you repeated properly getting back up. You pushed passed George and went into the first empty room collapsing on the bed. The door opened once more, it was Paul now.

“George told me you were passed out here,” he whispered.

“What? I just left that room,” you said in disbelief.

“That was hours ago, love.” Paul chuckled. “Here are some clothes to change into.” he pointed at a chair in the room you hadn’t noticed. 

“Thanks, Paulie, do you have a ciggie?” you asked forcing yourself to sit up. 

“Yeah, here you go.” he reached for his back pocket and handed you one along with a lighter

“Is the party over?” 

“No.” laughed Paul. “Goodnight though.”

“Thanks Paulie.” you kissed his cheek and watched him leave before you could get changed into just a big t-shirt. You stepped outside to the balcony and overlooked the party going on outside, the music thumping loudly but you hadn’t heard it from inside. You leaned your forearms against the railing and smoked the cig. The door opened again but you didn’t bother looking who it was, probably Paul who had forgotten something.

When you came back into the room, shivering slightly, you saw a figure passed out on the bed. You nudged the man but he simply groaned. “Paul?” you asked.

“Hmm?”

“Oh, sorry, nothing.” you weren’t sure it was Paul but you were so tired you didn’t care. Part of you recognised the scent of the man, it was so familiar. You had so many drugs coursing through your system you couldn’t pin it so you gave up. You fell on the bed and passed out.

The next morning you were awakened by the light pouring into the room. There was a heavy arm trapping you from leaving. What had you gotten into? You turned to see who it was and screamed at the sight of George in your bed. “FUCK!” you yelled at the top of your lungs. George sat up straight and looked around.

“WHAT? What is it?” he asked wide awake.

“You! In my bed!” you pointed at him, the bed’s sheets covering your chest.

“What? No! You in my bed!” George complained shaking his head.

“Oh God! Did we...?” you buried your head behind your hands dreading the answer.

“No,” George replied simply as he stepped out of the bed. You sighed happily and fell back.

“Please get out,” you said a little calmer now.

***

Paul’s house was scattered with passed out people, drugs and drinks. You tipped toed around the house fully clothed now. George, John and Paul were chatting inside the kitchen. When John noticed you he called you over. Very slowly you entered the room and waved at everyone except for George who was looking the other way.

“Why was he in my bed?” you snapped turning to Paul.

“What?” Paul asked.

“Did you put him there?”

“No! I wouldn’t do that.” he reasoned, you scoffed but John had a grin on his face.

“You guys slept together!” John laughed switching between looking at you and looking at his bandmate. “This is brilliant!”

“We did not sleep together!” you both snapped at the same time. 

“Will you two shut up already! Just fuck so you can get on with your lives!” John complained.

“God! I fucking hate him so drop it, John!” you snapped getting angry. For a split second, George looked upset but when you turned around to pick up the stuff you had dropped off, his hurt expression turned into an angry one. He agreed that he felt the same way before you ran out of the house.

***

John had invited you to another party, a Christmas one, and you had agreed hoping to resolve the incident and your issues with George. Your mind wouldn’t stop wandering back to his expression, he seemed hurt and that was unlike him. He hated you too, right? Or did he? You spent the days between the party and Christmas thinking about your feud and why it started. You honestly couldn’t remember why and if George had ever even said he dispised you.

You had picked out a white, silk, long dress for the event tonight. There was going to be press there and a designer had made a dress for you inspired by the Golden Age of Hollywood. The fabric hugged your shoulders and had a knot at the back. The body of the dress was tight as well but it released halfway down your thigh. You had paired it with a diamond bracelet, matching earrings, a necklace and a ring. The heels you picked were white as well, the heels long and thin empowering you.

You arrived a little bit later to the party, the gate to John’s home was filled with paparazzi’s snapping photos of you as you waved through the window. Inside his property, it was much calmer. Outside his home, there were a couple of cars dropping off guests and a selected amount of photographers from different newspapers. Your driver opened the door for you and as soon as you stepped out there were dozens of people calling your name.

With a polite smile on your face, you waved once more as you made your way into the Lennon home. John was waiting inside, he was wearing a suit and chatting with his guests but he went over to you when he noticed you. “God yn, you look beautiful.” he complimented spinning you around.

“You don’t look too bad yourself,” you said blushing slightly.

“There’s a bar over there, you know where everything is.” you thanked him before wandering over and ordering a gin tonic. You mingled through the crowd and you sipped on your drink for the first hour of the party. There were people you had to greet and talk to first before you could enjoy yourself. Just as you were wrapping up the conversation with an editor of a magazine you saw George alone in the balcony smoking a cigarette. 

You excused yourself and decided it was now or never. The short walk to the sliding glass door seemed to take forever but you found the courage inside of you that you need to open it. George looked back and sighed, ready to get made fun of, when he saw it was you. “Here to make fun of me? What is it going to be now? My hair or my suit?” he asked.

“I’m sorry,” you said, your voice breaking. George chuckled slightly and shook his head.

“Very funny.” 

“I’m serious George, I’ve been a dick to you and I’m sorry. I don’t even know why... Guess I was just jealous.”

“What? Jealous of who?” he finally turned around and stamped out his cigarette. You stepped forward, rubbing your hands together and looking down.

“Of all the girls who you used to go with...” you admitted feeling a weight lift off your shoulders.

“yn...” George took a step to you and took your hands in his, rubbing them softly. “I’m sorry too, I just wanted your attention and I didn’t know how to get it... I love you.” your head shot up and a smile formed on your face.

“Really?” George nodded in response. “I love you too,” you admitted with a shaky laugh. He smiled and slithered his arms around your back pulling you onto his chest. His hand went up to your face and gently moved a stray lock so he could see you properly, your hands were resting on his chest as you waited for him to kiss you. George finally closed the space between you, leaning down to softly kiss you. 

“FINALLY!” yelled John from inside. Paul, Ringo (who were next to him) and John all raised their glasses.

“FUCK OFF!” you and George yelled at the same before turning back to each other laughing.

tag list;

@thebeatleswritings​  @beatlevmania​  @i-love-queen-3000​  @brians-metaphor26​ @honimello​  @julessworldd​  @storiesfrommirkwood​  @beatles-babee​ @geostarr​ @thiccjelly17​  @crab-king-69​  @in-the-frap-of-the-gods​  @psychosupernatural​ @fiesta-freddie​  

#george harrison #george harrison x reader #george harrison fluff #george harrison imagine #george harrison one shot #george harrison blurb #the beatles #the beatles x reader #the beatles fluff #the beatles imagine #the beatles one shot #the beatles blurb

[grody-cosplay-n-crap]

Good dreams are worse than nightmares

on ao3

Drabble is based on a canon where the "Derry curse" doesn't die with Pennywise and the losers are still doomed to forget. Angst because I hate myself. Post movie.

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

Richie Tozier had a pretty good life. Actually, most people would probably say it was a great life. A few simple dickheads might even think it was the perfect life. After all he was a minor celebrity, one who basically got paid to tell dick jokes. He might not be Hollywood royalty but he got invited to late night talk shows and once in a while had a real role in a real life creative project (only some were trash). Some days he still couldn't believe he made enough money to never want for anything by essentially being a charming asshole (debatably). Something else that appealed to those simple idiots who idolized his lifestyle was the fact men in his position tended to have access to lots of women, most vastly out of their league. Groupies, girls seeking a flash of attention, even starlets seemed to let themselves be taken in by the most pathetic of idiots as long as they were funny. Now Richie was definitely a pathetic idiot, but not an extreme one by comedian standards. In fact he might be a damn Adonis among funnymen. Therefore it would make sense he would be drowning in women hotter than would have even glanced at him before the fame. The fact these women didn't actually exist was a minor detail. His lack of romance wasn't really a concerted effort. He never sat down to think through why women had never really been part of his life. A "reason" didn't haunt him, those thoughts never coming to the forefront of his mind. All he knew was that their absence didn't feel much like an absence. It just felt normal, right. And so what if there actually was no hot girlfriend with even hotter friends to jerk off to? The illusion was the important part and he was good at it. He was charming enough to say the shitty not-actually-his material in just the right way so people would actually laugh, and in return got fame, fans, and money. So yeah, he had a pretty good life.

Except for the dreams.

It wasn't every night. He wasn't actually sure how often, when he remembered he had them, the memories slipping down away from his conscious mind into the dark like a watching a coin fall down a well. The nights when they came were almost always normal, with him slipping into sleep casually, often helped by some whiskey. 

The main dreams were mostly flashes. Images, sounds, feelings. Blood, more than he had previously comprehended was in a human body. On his glasses, tinting his vision. The wrenching feeling of just one instant, irreparable and unfathomingly terrible. An invisible hook yanking his guts far away from his body with dread. A face, a voice saying his name. Words trying to come out, feeling as if he had swallowed a plant covered in barbs, hooking themselves deep into the rings of his esophagus. His brain, in shock, protecting itself with denial, dissociation. Voices around him full of pity. His body was moving, but against his own will. Tunnel vision zooming in on just what he is leaving behind as he is dragged away. Why the fuck are these hands him? Don't they know they have to help? Let him go, LET HIM GO. He is sure he is screaming but there is no sound, just slow motion destruction, the crumbling of a house and his hope. Finality. The blood...the blood is still there. He had promised and he had LIED. He was a traitor-

gone, gone, gone-

Richie wakes more violently than he knew possible, his heart pumping his body full of adrenaline, a mockery of when his ancestors spent days ready to run from a lion's jaws at any second. As the sweat cools and tremors make their way through his body Richie wishes there was a lion. There is nothing to run from here, just the feeling of a raw hole where his heart should be. A despair so bone deep it's physically painful, making him curl in on himself as if to hide from it. And even as the feeling something irreplaceable is gone clutches him tightly around the throat still it begin to fade. He can't hold on to the feelings, so much so it seems like trying to keep water from evaporating off him in the hot summer sun. Soon enough he has slipped back into sleep, dreamless. By the morning nothing is left but the vague recollection of something haunting him in the night. Something that seemed so terrible in the dark twilight zone of 4 AM but now in the clarity of daylight and reality seems trivial. 

Sometimes right before succumbing to unconsciousness a moment of clarity will come, a flash of memory that he's afraid, terrified to see the dream again. Sometimes when he wakes he begs to remember, so he can at least be prepared. So he can try to understand. So he can go to a fucking doctor and force them to give him something so strong he'll never fucking dream again. Tears of frustration slow and dry even as he begs.

Those aren't the only dreams though.

There is another kind that will come to him with frustrating infrequency. Deceptive things, possibly more devastating in the long run than the ones full of blood and fear. These dreams are soft and warm, safe. A cheesy song from some 60' s girl group is playing in the background, slow enough that dancing is really just slight rocking back and forth. Because he is dancing, holding someone close and he can't remember if he has ever done this before. They are shorter than him, sturdy in his grip. He looks down and thinks 'ah, that's why I'm not interested in those women'. There is no name to the face but he feels a certainty even stronger than that of his own name that he never has or ever will love someone as much as he does this person in his arms. They notice his stare and look up with a half smile, eyebrow raised, and if Richie was dumb enough to still believe in such things he might think this is how heaven feels. 

When he wakes up the heavy grief settles on him like a second blanket. He accepts slowly that this is reality, hard and sharp and bright, almost unbearable and he thinks maybe he is actually in hell. He tries to mentally grip onto the dream as hard as he can but with every beat of his heart memories collapse like that house- what house? These dreams stay with him for a couple days. He admonishes himself for basically having the romance version of a wet dream. At least he thinks that's what it was, he knows he had a dream and in that dream he felt so happy he had been moping about reality for days, which was pathetic. He was forty not fourteen. For some reason the jokes about his fake girlfriend seem even more wrong for a couple shows, but he can't figure out why. Soon these feelings too turn into nothing but a slight whisper in the back of his mind and as he always has and always will Richie Trashmouth Tozier pushes them away, slaps on a smile and pushes on with his amazing life. And if the numbness he has felt since his vague childhood keeps growing like a limb slowly losing circulation then so be it. Ignorant to a cycle his brain refuses to remember, doomed to relive trauma he can't understand, still the show will go on. 

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

I read fix it fics but this is the shit I write. I'm sorry I don't know why I'm like this. Might do a sequel where he remembers because I love pain. First time I've written in like....7 years, I hope it's not bad

now has a sequel 

#reddie #im sorry #it #it chapter 2 #it chapter two #it chapter one #andy muschetti #steven king #richie tozier #losers club #derry curse #angst #drabble #it fanfiction #how did it come to this #im nervous to post this #but I have also accepted my fate #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier x eddie kaspbrak

[disregardcanon]

here’s a tododeku truman show au that i wrote back when i was posting to dreamwidth in case tumblr in fact, collapsed and i needed to migrate

Todoroki Shouto is born with half red hair, half white, and heterochromia. Endeavor thinks he must be the child that he’s been waiting on, but when Shouto turns three he does not manifest a quirk. Concerned, Endeavor takes the boy to the doctor where he’s found to be a quirkless child who just happens to have strange coloring.

Endeavor is furious. He has to try again for that perfect child and he has nothing to show for it except for three normal failures and one that makes him the laughing stock of the hero world. Endeavor’s brightly colored quirkless son. It makes him sick to think about.

Enter Kristoff, an American developing a revolutionary television program that will star a child living their life in a world that is entirely fabricated. Fake parents, fake school, scripted life, all taking place in a simulation down to setting, day and night and even weather, broadcast 24\7 around the world. He had been planning on a baby, but after watching the shit show that comes with Endeavor finding out that his toddler is quirkless, Kristoff gets another idea.

He offers Endeavor money to give the child up for the experiment. Endeavor just wants the child gone.  

They spin the show as a great experimental journey. Sociologists will have so much to study! An isolated experience in humanity! A life fully documented! Kristoff spins the choice of Endeavor’s son as a way to give him a “normal” life, instead of just a life as Endeavor’s quirkless son. The public, already fascinated by both the show pitch and Endeavor’s youngest child, eat it up.

Shouto grows up in a fabricated island “off the coast of Tokyo” but really, in the middle of the desert near Hollywood. It’s normal in all the worst ways. He’s unspectacular and all of the people around him assure him of that.

He dreams of a woman with bright white hair and an angry, bitter man with a beard made of flames and icy eyes. Sometimes there are other children, but their faces are hazier. He tries to just ignore them. None of these dreams are happy.

His life isn’t happy, per say, but it’s happier than his dreams. At least there’s not that cold hearted man with fire on his face.

In “real life” his mother is overbearing and his father is easy going. They’re not happy or warm, but she’s not scarred and he’s not scary. That’s probably better.

Then, his father is dead. And it’s his fault, Shouto knows it’s his fault.

At least, that’s the way that Kristoff stages it. A shipwreck in a stormy sea, right after Shouto had urged his father to take him out on a ride. Kristoff shuffled the father off the set and wrote him off the show, and it served its purpose.

It added drama to the show, and ensured that Shouto was less likely to try to leave.

Life is uneventful. Then, Shouto meets Akitani Mikumo.

For once in his life, something feels right. When he talks to Akitani, things feel real. They’re both quirkless. They both love heroes. They both want to do something but don’t know how. Middle school is a confusing time, but Shouto knows that he’s less confused during his second year of middle school, getting to know Akitani, than he’s ever been in his life.

“Akitani?” Shouto asks, looking at him with wide eyes, “what’s wrong?”

“Please,” Akitani says, glancing over his shoulder, “we need to leave. If we don’t, you might never see me again.” Shouto is concerned, but he lets Akatani drag him out of school and across town and all the way out to the beach. They sit down on the sand and Akitani asks him to pick up s handful and feel it in his fingers. It’s soft and fluffy and a little bit oily, like always.

“Sand is supposed to feel rocky,” Akatani says, “not soft and fluffy and oily. .” Akatani looks off into the sea.

“That's not the ocean. We’re not even looking at the sky. It’s all fake.”

“What?” Shouto asks.

“This is a set. They’re- they’re” Akitani looks away, out to sea, “they faked your life and they’re filming it for shits and giggles.” He throws his into his hands and looks down at the ground. His next words are almost whispered.

“I’m fake too. Akitani’s not even my name.”

“Then what is it?”

“Midoriya.” Shouto busts up laughing. The boy with the green hair and green eyes and green freckles is named green?

“Your name is green?” Atikani? Midoriya? Whoever he is takes his head out of his hands crosses his arms over his chest.

“I didn't choose my name,” he says self-consciously. Shouto thinks that he might actually be telling the truth- at least- at least about the green thing. Why would he make that up? But the other part- it’s too-

“It’s not funny, Shouto. I need you to listen to me.” He hears a car engine revving in the distance. Midoriya’s eyes widen.

“They’re coming for me,” Midoriya says, and he sounds terrified. He thinks this is happening. Who knows, maybe it is?

“Can I do something?” Shouto asks. Midoriya answers by kissing him firmly on the mouth.

But Akitani feels real. And kissing him feels real, and for a moment- that’s all there is.

But then a car comes crashing down the sand dune, some big man who looks nothing like Midoriya come to drag him off. He says something about Akitani taking all his boyfriends here and being crazy and moving- and Midoriya’s shouting about how it’s take the whole time.

That’s not my dad- I’ve never seen him before in my life. The man shoves Midoriya in the backseat and helooks at him in horror.

“Please, Shouto, believe me-”

“I- I don't-” The man shakes his head ruefully.

“Kids, ya know? Never have em. They’re too much work.” Shouto doesn't know what to say to that.

“When can I see him again?” Shouto asks.

“You won't, kid. We’re moving to Kansas,” whoever that beautiful green haired boy’s dad is says. Then, he rolls up the window and drives away. Shouto is left confused and scared on the beach. He never sees that boy again.

“Atitani Mikumi” is fired and written off of The Shouto Show. Midoriya Izuku never gets that lady paycheck he was hoping to apply to high school tuition, but it’s alright. He gets what he wants in the end.

Midoriya Izuku gets a quirk. He goes to UA. He becomes the number one hero. He also becomes the Number One “Free Shouto” activist on the planet. He’d done the show for a quick paycheck and ended up with a passion about human rights abuses and a crush that he can't quell.

Sadly, the public doesn't even listen to the number one hero where their favorite zoo animal is concerned.

Shouto researches Kansas. There’s the Wizard of Oz, and Superman and sunflowers and wheat. That’s about it, but a Midoriya is there, and honestly, that makes it the most beautiful place in the whole world.

Shouto wants to go.

But the world is big, and scary, and full of water, and no one wants him to leave. They all discourage him at every turn, and Shouto thinks that maybe it’s wiser to just stay here where he knows what’s going on.

So he doesn’t leave. Not when he finishes his degree, or gets a boring dead end job, or after the seventy fifth time that his mother tells him he needs to find a nice girl and settle down and have kids already. He doesn’t do anything.

Shouto is twenty five and he’s never done anything meaningful with his life. He wants to see Midoriya in Kansas, but he’s been trying so long and been crushed down so many times. He thinks it will never happen in the monotony of his routine.

Then that’s broken when a homeless looking woman with white hair grabs onto him on his way to work.

“Shouto,” she tells his with wide eyes, “Shouto, it’s you!” And it’s her. She looks just like the woman in his dreams.

She tells him that she’s his mother and that it’s a tv show and all those same crazy things Midoriya said years ago. Then a set of two security guards descend on him immediately.

“This isn’t real!” She screams, thrashing in the arms of a security guard, “it’s not real!” He feels dread settle in his stomach. He thinks that’s true.

Every single person tries to get him to forget the incident, write it off as something crazy that never happened, but Shouto knows that it. happened. He knows that he’s seen this woman in his dreams, and most of all, he cane tell how much she cares about him. He felt more concern and love from her than he’s felt from his “mother” in twenty something years.

Something about his life isn’t right, and he thinks that maybe, just maybe… this woman and Midoriya were telling the truth.

“I want to go Kansas,” he says. The lady at the airport assures him they have no flights for months. The man at the bus station tells him all the buses have broken down. At the ferry station they have all stopped providing services. The routes out of town are all filled to the brim with traffic.

He sets out on foot and is arrested for trespassing and dragged back home. The dread in his gut grows and grows and grows. People are watching him and they don't want him to leave.

He sets out on a boat. It’s the scariest thing he’s ever done, and the storm almost tosses him into the ocean to die the same way that his dad did. But it doesn't. And eventually he reaches the end of the world.

He reaches out and touches the sky. The sky is a plaster blue, with wisps of white that look like clouds. But they aren’t clouds. It’s just more wall around him, like the whole damn world he lives in is inside a giant dome.

It is, he knows deep down that it his.

Midoriya was right. His mother was right. This is fake and it always has been. He’s been a zoo animal locked in a cage for people to gawk at, and every single person he’s ever met has been in on the joke. He walks along the wall of the world, stomach churning in fear.

This is really happening. His entire understanding of the world has shattered.

“Exit” the door says. He opens the door. Exit he does.

The man who created his world (habitat, bubble, prison) tries to scare Shouto into staying.

“What do you say, Shouto? The whole world is watching.”

“Fuck off,” Shouto says and he steps throw the door. He wonders if they’ll bleep that out for television.

Dealing with the aftermath is almost harder than getting out was. Midoriya was not, apparently, in Kansas. He was in Japan while Shouto was not. That takes some getting used to. Everything takes some getting used to.

He reconnects with his mother and his siblings, and Midoriya helps as much as he can, but. Starting over is hard. Shouto doesn’t have any practical skills. He didn’t do a real job in his dome and the public knows it. The public knows everything about him. His life has always been a public spectacle and getting out of that situation and immediately reconnecting with the number one pro hero? Does nothing to quell their desire to keep knowing everything.

He and Midoriya have a fight about the quirk because Shouto thinks he deceived him just like everyone else, but Midoriya explains how and when he got the quirk and things get better.

But things are better now. There are people that care about him, for real. He can build relationships based on love and trust and tell the paparazzi to fuck off. He’s not a specimen in a zoo anymore, no matter how much people treat him that way. He has a family and a boy that cares about him and a father that gave him away to piss off.

Hell, maybe he can even be a hero?anything is possible now that he’s out of that bubble. The world is scary, but while this one doesn't revolve around him, it’s a world he has some choice in. That’s got to be better than what he had.

#bnha #bnha aus #tododeku #shouto todoroki #izuku midoriya #the truman show

[wtfdavidsvlogs]

Audition

warnings: swearing, dark humor

Requested: @future-entertainer-creater said So in the most recent vlog, they were having auditions. Can you have y/n audition, and they end up really like her so they end up calling her back for a couple of physical, comedy skits. And after filming David really, REALLY likes her and asks her to join the VS

Gif by: @vlogssquad

Davids Pov

This was for the most part a complete joke but there were some people here that were very serious about it. So me being me I went along with it. We saw some pretty good people and some people that were just God awful. There was one audition that I did actually see potential in. Her name was Y/N Y/L/N. She was born and raised in Hollywood, and she was very good at taking dark humor and making it her own.

20 minutes earlier

I welcomed the next person in. She was dressed in boot style heels, blue jeans and a tight long sleeved black shirt. Very pretty girl. Probably around my age. I look up at her and look at her features. Without the shoes assist she was definitely on the shorter side. She was curvy and busty and had long Y/H/C hair and bright Y/E/C eyes.

“Hi, I’m Y/N Y/L/N, I’m here to audition for the vlog squad.” She said as she walked up to us and shook our hands.

“So what do you know about the vlog squad, Y/N?” Zane asked her.

“I know about 95% about your videos. You have this weird cast style of people that appear there but are actually just your friends that you like to fuck around with. You get sponsorships from one company and one company only, and yo have bought over 15 cars for people that weren’t yourself which is fucking insane.” She said and we all laughed. I wrote some stuff down.

“Well, Y/N what are some of your talents here? This says here that you do stunts and danger acts?” Jason says looking at her resumé. She nods. “Do you mind demonstrating your talents?” He said and she took a step back looking at all of us.

“Well one thing that I can do which I have always found to be kind of hilarious. Can one of you come here?” She said pointing to the rest of the group. Jeff stands up and stands in front of her.

“Alright, I just need you to push my shoulder.” She said and he raised his hand and pushed her. The moment he made contact, we hear something crack. She screamed and we did too. Jeff jumped back and covered his ears. She collapsed on the ground. Everyone screamed but she suddenly stopped and got back up. She raised her arm up and rammed into the wall we heard a click.

“Did you just dislocate your shoulder and then pop it back in?” I said to her with a smile on my face. She nodded. I laugh like a maniac as some people are still grossed out.

“I also enjoy some pretty crude humor as well.” She said clapping her hands together. I sit back down and she has my undivided attention.

“I like using hypotheticals a lot.” She said to us which caught all of our attention considering it is the main root of a lot of the comedy on my channel. I turn to Jason who I’m guessing was feeling the same exact way I was about her. I nodded and he did too. I look back to her. I stand up and walk around the table.

“Welcome to the group, baby.” I said and she smiled.

“Well before I come stumbling into the group y’all should know the truth about something.” She said looking down.

“You’re a man.” Jeff said. After a couple seconds of silence.

“Yes.” She says immediately as we all start to laugh. “I whip out a foot longer.” She says putting her forearm to her crotch. Only escalating the laughter.

“No I was gonna say I’m not actually 5”5, I’m wearing 6 inch heels.” She said stepping out of her shoes to show that she was a tiny 22 year old girl.

“That’s so cute...she two feet shorter than Matt.” I said welcoming her to the group.

I like this one a lot. I hope you like it.

#alex ernst #brandon calvillo #carly incontro #david dobrik blurb #reader x david dobrik #david dobrik x reader #david dobrik fanfiction #david dobrik imagine #david dobrik #matt king #kristen mcatee #liza koshy #todd smith #vlog squad #zane hijazi #david dobrik imagines #davids vlogs #alex ernst imagine

[skarletterambles]

Gods of Egypt reaction blog

As a fan of both Nikolaj Coster-Waldau and ancient Egypt, I had to watch this movie.  It’s a hideous mess of whitewashing, incorrect mythology and WTFery, but I got it from the library so no money went toward it.

Random thoughts typed while watching are below.

[Warning:  Spoilers ahead, plus a mention of rape and victim blaming.]

So I guess we’re not going with the original story in which Set chopped Osiris to bits and scattered them so Isis had to track down her husband’s reproductive organs to conceive Horus.  I bet nobody ejaculates into each other’s food as a power move, either.  Tsk.  (Seriously, though, that’s for the best.  I have complaints about the accuracy of the mythology in this film, but some Hollywood adaptation isn’t necessarily a bad thing...)

Oh, the irony of Nikolaj playing a lionslayer instead of, well...the Lion of Lannister...is hilarious.

Yikes, they really, really whitewashed this shit, didn’t they?  Holy cow.  (That wasn’t intended to be a Hathor pun, but if fits...)

At least they made Thoth black, even if he does talk like Data from Star Trek.  Isis was like, “Did you ever imagine your pupil would become king?”  Uh, he’s the king’s only son, you don’t have to be the God of Wisdom to predict that.  Duuuuuuh.

OMG Gerard Butler is keeping his Scottish accent for this role.  He’s dialed it back somewhat, but it’s definitely still there.  WTF LMAO

“I will be the one true king of all Sparta...errrr, I mean, Egypt!”

And he’s like, “You have to be rich to enter the afterlife from now on.”  Since when does Set have any say in that?

I was hoping their animal forms would look cool, not metallic bodysuits ripped from Transformers.  What a letdown.  

At least this eye-gouging was significantly less gross than the ones on Game of Thrones.

*insert jokes about Set overcompensating for something with the huge obelisk to Ra*

Bek was like, “Derrrr, gee, I’ve got this blinding artifact holding my enemies at bay.  I could flee immediately, or I could be a TOTAL IDIOT and take a few seconds to kiss my girlfriend first instead.”

“Death is not the end,” says the generic doe-eyed love interest.  No, no, no, it’s “Death is only the beginning,” and it was a MUCH better movie’s tag line! This pile of crap cannot steal it!

Okay, Anubis looks kind of cool.  So do the giant scarab beetle mounts.

OMG this is dumb.  It just is.  Let’s fly to a freaking space station without any kind insulation or oxygen.  Horus, I can understand, since, y’know, magic, gods, etc.  But the mortal dweeb?  No.  He should have frozen and suffocated.

Geoffrey Rush is Ra?  What?  Whyyyyy???  He’s done such amazing stuff in his career.  How much did they have to pay him to do this?

Oh look, the Earth is flat after all!  *shocked emoji*

I’m not sure what reaction they were going for with Gerard Butler flying around on a sled pulled by giant beetles, but I bet snorting laughter wasn’t it.

So the other gods and goddesses are either 100% human-looking, or in their metallic animal forms, but Nepthys has pretty wings in human form.  Okay.  Sure.  All the rules are made up.

Scaling up the gods to be bigger than mortals was a neat idea, but I don’t know if it was worth the amount of CG that it must have required.

Did we need random bullet-time moments while Horus fights the metal bull men?  No.  No we did not.

These gods aren’t that powerful, if being pushed off a waterfall almost kills them.  I know, I know, they’re playing it up that Horus is not as powerful without his other eye, but come on.

Am I supposed to know who these two women are with Set?  One black, one albino?

Since when does Hathor have anything to do with the dead and the Afterworld?  And come on, you cowards, let her turn into a giant silver cow to fight!  She had one slightly bovine-looking tiara early on, but otherwise there was no sign of her true nature.  Harumph.

Oh, the black and white women ride giant fire-breathing cobras.  Of COURSE!  Makes total sense.  (WTF??????)

Hathor:  You should tell the mortal the truth about his dead lover. Horus:  No, I refuse. [Bek, who is walking like ten feet behind them:  Tell me what? Horus:  Oh shit.  I forgot you were back there.]

The Sphinx doesn’t really look like a Sphinx, but okay.  Did it just say “Oh, bother” like freaking Winnie the Pooh?  LOL!

Set just stole Thoth’s brain.  Rude!

The wings of Nepthys, the mind of Thoth, the heart of Osiris, the eye of Horus...by your powers combined, I AM CAPTAIN PLANET! 

And the most predictable patricide in cinematic history in 3...2...1...stabby stabby!  *golfclap*

Forecast for this afternoon, 80% chance of Apophis destroying creation...

Instead of a golden hand, here Nikolaj has golden EVERYTHING.

Horus is like, “That darn mortal had to go and be mortal.  Tsk.  I knew there was a reason I didn’t hang out with their kind.”

But literal deus ex machina to the rescue, Grandpa Ra (that rhymes!) fixes everything.

And they all lived happily ever after.  I guess.

What the actual fuck did I just watch?

I mean, it kept my interest.  Nikolaj was by far the highlight, as he was giving his all at playing Horus, despite the absurdity of it all.  So it wasn’t entirely horrible, but it wasn’t what I’d call good, either.

The CGI was really hit or miss.  The fire effects, Apophis, the collapsing sand pyramid, and the scenery was cool.  The bull-headed soldiers, the gods’ mech outfits, and some of the magic effects were...not as good.

Perhaps paradoxically, the plot was both predictable and hard to follow at times.  I mean, the major story beats were predictable, but the details of what MacGuffin they needed to take where for what reason got convoluted.

The female characters were cardboard and passive, existing mostly as eye candy and prizes to be captured by the men.  Hathor had a few decent story beats, but the narrative also glossed over the fact that she was kept as Set’s sex slave for years, and had Horus be annoyed that she didn’t escape to return to him, so...yeah.  She regained some agency toward the end but even then it was the self-sacrificing kind.  Meh.

I think the movie would have been better if it was just a sci-fi/fantasy world, without the ties to Egyptian mythology.  It’s not like they were going for accuracy with their depictions of the myths, or put in Easter eggs for lore buffs to catch.

Honestly, the more the movie went on, the less I noticed the painful amount of whitewashing, because it was so loosely based on actual Egyptian mythology that I sometimes forgot that’s what it was supposed to be.  It was just a generic sci-fi/fantasy adventure story with a bunch of white people (and a couple black people) in it.  The vibe was more Graeco-Roman than Egyptian at times (for which I partly blame Gerard Butler’s costumes).  I was expecting more attempts at authenticity.

That doesn’t mean that the whitewashing wasn’t egregious, because it really was, and there’s just no excuse for it.  That was the most serious flaw in the film, but definitely not the only one.

I’m glad I saw the movie since now I have an informed opinion about it, and Nikolaj is fun to watch, but it’s like a 3/10 overall.

#movie review #gods of egypt #Nikolaj Coster Waldau

[harryandmolly]

The Long Way Home -9-

Summary: His world is a little rocked when Shawn is joined on his 2019 world tour by Emma, a former child star with a chip on her shoulder and a voice that haunts him.

Warnings: Language, The Reckoning

Word count: 5.5k

Shawn is not too happy, at first, when Emma insisted they keep this, whatever this is, quiet.

She’s smart enough to give her decree between plush kisses to the spot on his collarbone that makes him whimper like a 16-year-old girl and he kinda resents that, but she’s a woman on a mission so he has to respect it, too.

Technically, she reminds him, she’s still supposed to be with Kyle.

“Kyle?!” Shawn whines, chocolate eyes going wide with dismay as she calmly brings it back to his attention, “But… I mean, why does it have to be Kyle? Why can’t it be me?”

Emma’s heart squeezes hard at his innocent suggestion. She peels her eager, slightly swollen lips away from his shoulder and regards him affectionately.

���Because you’re not a bad boy,” she says, eyes full of gratitude. He swipes a thumb against her wet lower lip and pouts playfully.

“Is that a requirement for you?” he teases. His voice is a little less squeaky than a few seconds ago so she thinks she’s hopefully getting somewhere in calming him the fuck down.

They’re still tangled up on her bed. Clothes have remained firmly in place and they’re above the sheets, it’s all been even just barely PG-13 so far and Shawn hasn’t done this in a long time. He hasn’t kissed someone just to kiss them without pretty soon falling into bed to sprint toward an orgasm. Not in recent memory, at least. It should feel maybe a little juvenile, a little fraught with sexual tension, but it doesn’t. It’s nice. He spent so long wanting to be close to her that getting to lie here on her Ravenclaw duvet with her bare toes prodding at the seam of his jeans and their linked fingers twirling and unraveling and re-vining while they talk, it all feels absolutely enough.

He’s forgotten for a second that he asked her a question. When he looks up at her he sees her smiling like he’s been caught daydreaming. She kisses the tip of his nose and god, he can die happy right here.

“It’s just for a little while,” she whispers earnestly, smile faltering into a sincere near-grimace. She doesn’t want to fuck this up. She doesn’t want to make him feel unimportant when he’s the opposite. But things are tenuous right now while she clandestinely searches for a new regime.

After a moment, he nods. “I get it. It’s fine, really. We’re ok.”

She rewards him tenderly with a kiss halfway down his jaw. He tilts his head back to give her more access, a silent plea for her to explore as she might want to. She takes the opportunity, weaving pecks and licks and little nipping tugs around the thin, tanned flesh of his neck.

“Don’t leave a mark, ok?” he hums.

She pulls her lips away only to nod subserviently. “Ok,” she breathes, the vibrations singing through his nerve endings until he’s squirming. She notices and backs away, giggling nervously.

“Sorry,” she whispers. Her cheeks are gorgeously flushed and she’s nibbling on her lower lip. He doesn’t know if she’s apologizing for starting or for stopping but he figures it doesn’t matter. He gives her that perfect close-lipped smile she loves and plays with her fingers again.

“I don’t even want to ask but… what time is it?” he croaks without looking away from her dainty fingertips.

Emma reaches for her phone and scrolls past dozens of texts she doesn’t care to read. “4:45 almost. God, we’ve been kissing all day.”

“And talking,” he reminds her, laying a sweet, if slightly wet kiss across her forehead, “And singing,” another gentler kiss on her cheek, “And playing,” he glances at the guitar and pecks at the corner of her mouth.

“Mostly kissing,” she giggles, burying her face in his neck briefly, inhaling the faded scent of expensive cologne and boy next door, “I have to go pick up my sister. Lacrosse camp ends at 6 and I’m taking her to dinner.”

Shawn smiles at how excited Emma sounds. “That sounds great.”

They’re quiet for a few moments until he speaks again. “Are you… gonna tell her?”

“That Shawn Mendes has been kissing me in my bed all day? Not while I’m driving, her head will explode all over my fine blonde leather interior,” Emma jokes. Shawn barks a laugh.

“No, then?” He tries not to sound hurt. Emma tilts her gaze up to his again, that same knowing, appreciative smile at just the corners of her mouth.

“I don’t keep anything from Georgie. I might just wait until I’ve got her in public first so she can’t make a scene. Though knowing Georgie, that might not stop her.”

Shawn wants to ditch his dinner meeting. He’s going to have to put stuff in his hair and shake hands and schmooze. He’d much rather get in Emma’s passenger seat and get stuck in traffic and sing to the radio and sit with Emma and Georgie in a booth at Gordon Biersch or something eating garlic fries and tracing the lines on Emma’s palm under the table while he asks Georgie about lacrosse game rules. He almost suggests it. But Emma never gets time like this with her sister. He’s not about to hog it. Even if he wants to hog her.

They pry themselves off the bed and slowly, very slowly, too slowly because the Uber driver has called Shawn three times and has threatened to leave him there, make their way to the door to say goodbye.

With one final kiss that has him sucking her lower lip into his mouth and her gripping his shoulders for dear life as her knees wobble, she releases him. He skips out the door, pink cheeked and tripping around her cacti as he turns back to look at her.

“I’ll call you tonight!”

+

It’s not that she lied to Shawn, she just didn’t tell him everything.

Her explanation of her evening with Georgie made it sound like they’d be collapsing on Emma’s couch by 8:30 to watch To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before again and be in bed by 10. She didn’t feel the need to clarify that instead, she’d be packing into a Lyft heading into WeHo for a quiet drink with a big opportunity. She doesn’t want to tell him until it’s certain. She doesn’t want him getting his hopes up, or worse, feeling like has should step in and help her reorder her professional life. That isn’t what she wants. That’s not why she wants him.

That’s what she’s telling herself as she fiddles with the brooch on the breast pocket of her smartly tailored creamsicle orange blazer. She got ready for this meeting in only 45 minutes after dropping a dazed and elated Georgie back off at their dad’s house, assurance she can function without Mabel who, though likeable, is a henchwoman of Margaret.

“I’m gonna change everything, G,” Emma assured her sister, voice shaking almost imperceptibly, “I’m going to fix it. All of it.”

The words are vague and innately powerful. Emma’s not stupid. She knows Georgie knows all, sees all. She only barely described what went down at the video shoot, leaving out the grimier details of the bruises she woke up with that Shawn did his best to distract her from by leaving a couple of his own. But the look in Georgie’s perfectly clear green eyes reminded Emma what she’s known all along – Georgie knows everything.

Maybe this one meeting can’t fix all of it. She knows more about this business than people think she does and she knows there’s no magic spell to undo the years of careful planning and manipulation Margaret and her mother have woven to keep Emma wound up tight. She knows a new manager is only the start. But the start is finally starting and Emma is so ready.

Andrew made the first call on her behalf, a carefully-worded suggestion that while she’s in town, Angelique Carter should meet Emma Kingston.

She’s not what she seems, he promised, There’s something to this girl that you should be interested in.

Angelique likes Andrew a lot, she really does. He’s straight up, has a great reputation in the industry for doing his job well with dignity and respect for artists and for other managers. He’s well-liked and highly regarded. She knows she has to take him seriously when he makes any proffered suggestion to her, even if she has been in the business longer.

But Emma Kingston?

The paranoid part of her, the part that has kept her edge finely honed from years of being a woman of color in a white male-dominated music industry, has her hackles up. What is he trying to pull? What kind of mischief could be lying underneath this?

But she could find nothing. Nothing made sense here. What could Andrew possibly have to gain from foisting Emma Kingston onto Angelique’s plate?

It only meant one thing – he was right. Angelique needed to meet Emma Kingston, indeed.

Buckling under curiosity, Angelique sits, eyes and wits as sharp as her posture, in $600 jeans and a t-shirt she stole from an ex-boyfriend, in the corner of a bar she’s never heard of. It’s decorated in 30s Golden Age Hollywood-style and has the feel of a place that was outrageously popular five years ago and has faded into ubiquity. Angelique kind of loves it, so that’s one brownie point to Miss Kingston, who picked the locale.

And there she is. She gives the illusion that she’s tall with her killer cream-colored Louboutins and the carriage of a woman beyond Emma’s just-shy-of-19 years. She’s smiling genuinely in a way Angelique’s never seen Emma smile in the barrage of interviews she pored over in preparation for this introduction. Angelique, for once in her career, is thrown off.

“Angelique, it’s so great to meet you, thank you for taking the time for me,” Emma says in her signature quiet but firm tone, keeping her gaze level with Angelique’s as she stumbles to her feet to greet the teen queen. Angelique blinks, looking to recover.

“My pleasure, Emma, I was very… interested when Andrew suggested we sit down.”

Emma sits and immediately, without even the lift of an eyebrow or a glance around the room, draws the waiter over to take her order. Her very presence did the trick. Angelique is a little enchanted. Emma orders a club soda with lime. Another brownie point – Angelique hates alcohol at business meetings and resents how big a role it plays in the music industry. She herself is proudly drinking a Shirley Temple.

“Andrew’s been great to me. I’m not sure how much he did tell you, but I want you to know I specifically asked if he knew you because I’ve been looking to work with you for a few years.”

Emma is direct. Angelique’s beginning to lose track of the brownie points. She’s still trying to mentally reconcile what she has heard of Emma Kingston’s reputation (shallow, cold, detached from the inner workings of her own business) with the woman sitting across from her who hasn’t yet broken eye contact or raised her voice above a confident, soft murmur. But she manages to nod anyway.

“Have you?”

Emma’s jaw tightens up. Angelique can feel the story behind… whatever this is bubbling up in Emma’s million dollar throat. She squirms in her seat with anticipation. She realizes for a moment just how invested she suddenly is.

“I’m not sure how much of my career you’re familiar with but I’ve done quite a bit of research on you and I know you too like your research. So I’m guessing you know everything about me.”

Angelique cracks a crooked grin that sets Emma more at ease, as it was meant to. “Homework is important in this job. In this business.”

Emma nods eagerly. “It is. Then you know I’ve been managed by Margaret Henderson since I was little.”

Oh, Angelique knows. Googling Emma’s representation was the first thing she did when she set the meeting. Margaret Henderson has been the Queen Regent of teen queens since the mid 80s. She’s practically legendary. She has a few more skeletons in her closet than Andrew does, though. There are more whispers about her, more half-truths and killed stories. Angelique used to think anyone who’s been around long enough has those. But she’s trying to work on her cynicism.

“I’m looking to part ways with Margaret. I’m looking for someone who will collaborate with me, who understands that the end of my adolescence brings about the opportunity for a new direction, one that suits me more than my current image.”

Angelique is blinking again. This speech doesn’t even sound rehearsed. She knows the girl’s an actor, but either she’s a damn good one or she’s more eloquent than anyone gives her credit for. Angelique wouldn’t be surprised by either.

Emma leans in slightly as if to confide something. “I know you’ve never worked with a country artist before. Anyone would tell me if that’s my path of choice, given how much I’ve already established myself in the pop field, I should go with someone similarly ingrained in the country music world. But the thing is… I don’t want to. I want to trust someone.”

Angelique can feel the cogs turning in her head. She heard a rumor once a few months ago that Margaret and Island Records had buried Emma’s first record and recorded a different one. Perhaps there was a bit of truth to it.

“And you trust me?”

Emma sits back again, eyeing Angelique. “I do. That probably sounds stupid because I don’t know you. But I’ve been following your career and I like the way you do your job. You don’t… run your artists. You work with them. You trust them and they trust you. I’ve always wanted that. I’ve never had it with Margaret. It’s a huge risk, me telling you all this, me arranging this meeting while she’s still on my payroll and making every decision about my career without my consent. I hope that shows you how serious I am about this. I want us to do this together. We might fuck it up. I doubt it, because you’re brilliant and I want this so bad I don’t know what to do with myself. So… there. That’s my pitch.”

Angelique goes to speak when the waiter brings back Emma’s club soda. She smiles and nods a thank you.

“Usually people wait for their drinks to arrive before they go in on the damn thing,” Angelique chuckles appreciatively. She tucks a stray dread behind her ear.

She’s quiet, running through Emma’s every word, every incremental facial expression of the last few minutes in her mind. She’s searching for bullshit, searching for flakiness, something she can use as an excuse to get out of this.

This is the kind of opportunity that scares the shit out of every great artist manager there’s ever been. This is the fork in the road. This is where she chooses to continue representing acts that might become the next Rihanna, the next Childish Gambino, the next Halsey. Or she chooses to help be a part of something new, something no one can compare so directly to anyone else. This is where she decides to continue on her road, the road oft-traveled, the road littered with people making the same choices, opting for safety over greatness. 

Angelique smiles. She doesn’t mind the road less traveled. Her Range Rover has four-wheel drive.

+

There are no magic spells in the music industry, only mountains of paperwork.

It takes over a month to draw up and negotiate a contract for Angelique after she and Emma shook on their deal that night at the little West Hollywood bar. Emma’s lawyers are under strict instructions not to breathe a word of anything to Sandra or Margaret. Meanwhile, Angelique is tying up loose ends, making some quiet calls to feel out killing the “Fireheart” video and waiting in the wings for the Reckoning, as Georgie has taken to calling it.

Emma is having regular freak outs on the DL about firing her manager and finally alienating her mother. She knows her agent will back out the moment Margaret’s name is no longer attached to Emma’s, so that’s another thing for Angelique to handle. She’s being a sport about it, though. She consults Emma before she does almost anything. No task is too small. When she’s not straightening out the behind-the-scenes, she’s brushing up on her country music knowledge. Turns out she really loves Tammy and Patsy, too.

Angelique’s paperwork, along with Margaret’s generous severance package, padded heavily to attempt to sidestep any legal action she may threaten to bring, is expected to be ready right in time for Emma’s 19th birthday.

Which Shawn doesn’t know about until she mumbles something about Kyle flying in for a party while they’re in D.C. as he’s suckling at the inside of her left breast at 5:30am in a hotel room in Pittsburgh. He lifts his head and stares at her.

“Your birthday’s next week?” he pants.

She giggles at the ragged sound of his breath and the rosiness of his cheeks. She nods.

“You’re not the only Leo in this bed.”

He makes a face and huffs. “Well, when were you gonna tell me?”

“I just did, babe.”

He narrows his eyes. “You just told me your fake boyfriend is flying in for your small, intimate, paparazzi-friendly gathering, too. C’mon, it’s your birthday, Em, can’t you take a break from being Emma Kingston for one night? We don’t have to go out. We can stay in the hotel and—”

“I can’t make any waves right now, Shawn,” she reminds him gently, sheepishly. After “the handshake,” Emma proudly called Shawn to tell him the news. He was a little floored, because he didn’t know she was quite so close to replacing Margaret, but he put down another mental note to thank Andrew for doing right by his… well, not girlfriend.

They haven’t had that talk yet. It’s a little complicated, what with her fake boyfriend and their sneaking around behind everyone’s backs but Georgie’s. And Emma’s pretty sure Angelique knows, too, but she doesn’t have confirmation. She just has a feeling. Angelique’s a little like Georgie in that way. It bodes well.

Shawn is struggling with trying not to be aggravated by all this. The secret was so sexy at first – catching her by the hand to pull her into a dark corner for two minutes between their soundchecks, unable to share more than a casual glance for hours at a time, sneaking into each other’s hotel rooms at 2am just to spend a few hours together. Neither of them is sleeping worth a damn, but they’re both noticeably giddy.

But the novelty is starting to wear off. Shawn wants Emma. He wants her in the morning when they wake up and part ways to meet with their trainers. He wants to bring her tea and kiss her good morning in front of the whole crew when they arrive at a new venue. He wants to hold her hand as they walk around the venue like it’s their personal playground. He wants to take her out to explore new cities on their off days. He can’t do any of that while she’s still making headlines as one half of “Kyma.” Which, by the way, is a shitty ship name. It sounds like a 6th Kardashian sister. He hates it.

He’s been incredibly patient, he thinks. And she reminds him, too, how much she appreciates it, how she knows it’s not ideal, how it’s definitely not forever. Even Georgie texts him sometimes when she’s feeling nosy to remind him that “the Reckoning is coming.” He always rolls his eyes and smiles at that.

What he really doesn’t like is how Emma and Kyle bring out a side of him he doesn’t recognize. This side of him feels devolved, like a Neanderthal. He sees Kyle’s arm around Emma’s waist and wants to club him over the head. He doesn’t, of course, he plasters on his best “I’m a Canadian good boy” smile and waits for Emma to show up in his room at some ungodly hour and shower him with kisses. She always makes it pretty easy to forget for a little while. But the little freckled bastard always comes back. He’s ready for him to get taken out with the rest of the trash. The Reckoning is coming.

Shawn swallows his pride again and nods at her. “Ok. So he’s flying in for the party. Cool.”

Emma casts a sympathetic glance before she seems to come up with something to placate him. “I was thinking, though, you and I might have our own party the next night? Maybe we could do something a little more special than 15 of my closest non-friends at some trendy restaurant.”

He’s not getting the hint, instead nodding and picking at a piece of blanket lint in her hair. She trails her fingers down his bare chest for his attention. His eyes lift to hers. She raises her eyebrows.

Delighted recognition paints his face and almost makes her giggle.

“Oh! Oh. Yeah, that… I mean, yeah, if you want to. If you’re sure you’re ready. I don’t, I mean, I want to make sure… you know…”

She frowns. “Shawn, I’m not a virgin.”

Shawn’s face goes blank. “Oh. I mean, I wasn’t totally sure…”

They’ve been taking it slow. They haven’t had a formal discussion about it but neither of them wanted to rush it, especially given their opportunity for only short, sweet rendezvous right now while their relationship remains below board. Shawn doesn’t mind, he’ll take what he can get. And he’s never been one to push anyway.

That doesn’t mean he hasn’t thought about it. Because god, has he thought about it. Emma Jean Kingston is the best looking woman he’s ever touched and his body never lets him forget it. She sets him on fire and he’s just dancing around in the flames. He’d happily go steadily insane for her if she insisted on keeping on like this. But if she’s suggesting they round the bases as described by the timeless baseball metaphor, he’s definitely down with that too.

She snorts at the look on his face. “Dude, I brought home that French guy from Sound Control, remember?”

He sighs. “Vividly, thanks. I just didn’t know. Could’ve been part of the Emma act.”

She rolls her eyes. “Well, it sort of was, I guess, but that particular scene of the Emma act did not have a happy ending.”

Shawn chuckles. “Oh no?” He confidently begins tonguing at the freckle on her breast, which always makes her shiver for him.

She shakes her head. “Nope. I’m the queen of hopeless one-night stands. I have a magnet for guys that have… no idea what they’re doing.”

Shawn lifts his head and stares at her questioningly. Her own words dawn on her and she grabs his shoulders.

“Not you! No, you’re… well, from what I’ve seen, you’re absolutely excellent. You’re the exception to the rule. For sure.”

Shawn looks smug and plants a wet kiss on the base of her throat. “You’re gonna have a very happy birthday, Emma. A very, very, very happy birthday.”

+

The Reckoning is coming, the Reckoning is coming.

It’s a good mantra for the times when the alarm goes off at 4:30am for Pilaticardio and Margaret’s walking into her bedroom unannounced and squawking at her about being late when she’s not and not working hard enough when she is.

As planned, the papers are messengered to Emma on her birthday. She’s in bed texting Shawn when Mabel announces there’s a messenger here for her. She bounds out of bed and almost snatches up the folder from the prying eyes of Sandra and Margaret, whose only birthday present to Emma was to let her skip Pilaticardio for a day.

She marches back to her back lounge bedroom on the bus and rips at the packaging. Inside are just loose-leaf pages full of legal jargon but they’re going to change Emma’s whole life and it’s the best birthday present ever.

She grouptexts Shawn and Georgie: The Reckoning is here

They respond with effusive excitement and lots of emojis. She has a stupid smile on her face for the rest of the day until Kyle arrives in typical fashion with a band of merry miscreants he thought would be “the more the merrier” for her quiet, intimate birthday dinner. He plants his hands on her ass and sticks his tongue in her mouth right away upon his arrival outside the hotel where fans are waiting with phones. She knows it’s mostly for the cameras but also a little for feeling out whether she might fuck him tonight. She’s glad Shawn’s not watching.

Emma’s dinner feels a little bit like the Last Supper to both Shawn and Emma who are stealing glances at each other from across the table over Asian fusion and cocktails even for the decidedly underage. He’s too far away to touch, which means he’s also too far away to see Kyle ghosting his fingertips along Emma’s bare thigh. She crosses her legs away from him and swallows more of the fruity rum drink, looking back to Shawn. He smiles at her softly. Her heart soars.

They get papped according to plan outside the restaurant and head back to the hotel due to an early bus call the next day. While waiting for the caravan of hired cars to arrive, Shawn casually slides up next to Emma while Kyle is occupied yammering on to his friend about some club in Mallorca.

“Do you want me to come with you to talk to Margaret?” he hums, almost under his breath. She smiles softly and angles toward him, brushing her fingers over his, hoping no one’s watching. His hand twitches in response.

“No thank you. Gotta stand on my own on this one.”

She looks up at him meaningfully. He holds her gaze proudly until the cars arrive and they’re separated.

Shawn doesn’t sleep that night, not a wink. The Reckoning is here.

+

Sandra gets on a red eye back to California for a “charity” (i.e. networking) event in LA. Emma only has to slay one dragon at a time. After a pep talk from Angelique and another emoji-filled text from Georgie, she’s standing outside Margaret’s hotel room door at almost 1am with a manila folder full of endings.

And she finds she can’t knock.

She should’ve changed. She feels like an idiot with her high, tight ponytail and her mini dress and absurd high heels firing a woman who’s been running her life since she was a toddler in a tiara.

What’s the appropriate thing to wear when firing your second mother? Not that she was a very good one, but still.

Margaret has been there for every single one of Emma’s major life events. She remembers her kindergarten graduation. Margaret bought her the Bratz doll she had been begging for. She remembers when she was hospitalized for dehydration and exhaustion when she was shooting the second season of Fake It. Margaret never left her bed side even when Sandra did. When Georgie broke her wrist playing in the game against Warburton Prep last year, Margaret shut down her photo shoot and drove Emma to be with her at the hospital.

Emma doesn’t hate Margaret. She kind of wants to. It would make this easier. In fact she thinks, at this point in their journey, Margaret really thinks she’s doing what’s best for Emma by forging her path without consulting her and refusing her attempts at owning her creativity in favor of a boxed, processed version she thinks will make her more successful.

Margaret doesn’t hate Emma. Emma is the closest thing Margaret has to a child of her own. She’s always just wanted what’s best for Emma, right? That’s what Sandra has always said. That’s what they all want. They want Emma to succeed.

Emma slumps against the wall, closing her eyes against Emma Kingston’s voice inside her head. She’s so tired of it. There’s a part of her that worries that this duality she’s lived with for so long, the duality Margaret helped create, the duality Emma let them split into her, might not just evaporate when Margaret’s influence does.

What if Emma Kingston never really leaves? What if this is all a waste because Emma Kingston was who she was always supposed to be? What if Margaret was right?

Even holding herself up on the wall becomes too much. She sinks to sit on the heavily patterned hotel hallway carpet, blinking away tears of frustration and confusion.

What is she doing? Why is she doing this?

Her stomach roils. Her brain riots. Her pulse threads thin and erratic.

She buries her face in her hands.

She’s desperate for divisiveness, for one thing, one memory to rip her into certainty from wherever she is now.

She holds her breath and waits until it comes.

It’s an old memory, one long filtered by time and numbness and fear. It’s bitter in her mouth and hurts so bad her eyebrows pinch together and she holds an arm over her stomach like she’s afraid it will split her apart from the inside.

Emma is 8. She booked a guest spot, a one-liner on an episode of “Project Pink,” an old Disney Channel show. This is the big one, everyone tells her. If you do this well, you’ll be a Disney star. You’ll get one of those commercials where you trace the Mickey head with a glow stick.

“I’m Emma Kingston, and you’re watching Disney Channel.”

She’s practiced it a thousand times and then a thousand more. She wants it so badly.

She’s on set for two days. Her one liner is spoken with another little girl on set. Her name is Ally. She’s loud and funny and speaks Spanish really good so Emma likes her. She doesn’t get to meet a lot of kids her age. She wonders if maybe Ally could have a sleepover this weekend? Ally likes the idea. She’s been to tons of sleepovers. Emma’s nervous about staying the night without her mom and dad so Ally says she can come to Emma’s place.

Emma asks Margaret because she can’t find Sandra and Margaret is just as much her mom as Sandra is at this age. Margaret looks down at Emma with a look of distaste.

“That’s not what we’re here to do, Emma. This isn’t a game. This is your job. You need to tell her no. No sleepover.”

Emma is quiet. She knows better than to try to ask her mom or dad. They’d just check with Margaret and it would make Margaret mad to know she didn’t like the answer she got so she asked someone else. Emma tells Ally she can’t come over. Ally doesn’t understand. She gets upset. She calls Emma stupid.

Emma believes her. She stops asking for sleepovers. She stops asking for anything. She just obeys.

She heads back to her trailer and picks up a pencil her tutor left. She swings it in the air in a perfect Mickey head shape.

‘I’m Emma Kingston, and you’re watching Disney Channel.”

19-year-old Emma’s eyes open. She stares at the hotel room door. She blinks, resigned. Her heart hurts. Her limbs are heavy. But she lifts herself to standing and knocks.

Margaret answers, bleary-eyed in a big t-shirt and sweatpants. She’s still awake doing her job, supporting Emma’s career. Supporting the career Emma had no say in.

“Emma?”

Emma lifts her chin and hands her the envelope. “It’s over, Margaret. You need to go home.”

Taglist: @the-claire-bitch-project @smallerinfinities @crapri @stillinskislydia @carlaimberlain @abigfatmess @rosecolouredtimes @heavenly—holland @wanderingmendes @blush-and-books @oyesmendes @embracehappy @toumendes @nosafetynetunderneath

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fan fic #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes fan fiction #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes fic #shawn peter raul mendes

[arcadeguk]

got juice?

prompt: jimin just wants to make it through his shift, scanning almond milk and weird organic kiwis as fast as he can, so he can leave this pit of hell and crash - maybe even getting in a quick drunken game of overwatch before night’s end. however, his days going from meaningless to “okay maybe a little interesting” when his manager decides to hire a deadass smokeshow to work the juice bar, directly in front of jimin’s register.

pairing: cashier!jimin x juicebar!reader (ft. god only knows who)

genre: fluff, banter, slow burn, strangers to humping in the cleaning closet

a/n: i don’t know what’s gotten into me but u can blame @pjmults for it

if jimin’s register could talk, it would ask you, get down on it’s knees and fucking beg you, to convince its poor blonde haired operator to please pretty please with lots of cherries on top go talk to the cute girl working the juice bar. after all, it wasn’t fair for jimin to take out his pent up sexual frustration out on the keyboard, but nonetheless, here he was, pounding the produce code for a bunch of bananas, beating the aged to thing to death like it owed him money.

jimin’s good at his job, and not only that, he likes it, which is more than can be said for his coworker, taehyung, who’s currently slouching against the register next to his. jimin likes the people, the light conversation, the money, and something to do during the summer, (the store is air conditioned, his apartment is not). it keeps the sweet little mochi happy and busy, and the whole job was nothing but butterflies and break room antics until you showed up.

even as jimin stands here, watching you expertly put together a mango smoothie, he’s annoyed at how goddamn perfect you are. really, seriously, how much was jimin expected to take? you coming in with an adorable little outfit, disguised by the juice bar apron?? and that sweet little visor that cast the cutest shadow on your face, and if jimin looked up at just the right moment, the light would catch your eyes, and they’d be the only thing illuminated on your face?? how you always were so friendly with customers, and whenever one of them made you laugh loud enough and he could hear it from his register, he debated running out into open traffic at that very moment??? no, this abuse was too fucking much, he wouldn’t stand for this, he was a man with morals after all… the juice girl, of all people? the person who worked 9-5 in his direct eyeline? he couldn’t have fallen in love with someone in his peripheral vision? not someone he had to see every single time he glanced up? this was god-tier level stupidity, this was -

“hey dumbass, anyone home?” the charming question is followed up with an even more loving knock on jimin’s skull, and he turns to the side, eyes burning with hatred, tongue full of fire ready to be spat at whoever interrupted his existential life crisis. said assailant quickly draws his hand, tucking it cutely into a fist under his chin and feigning innocence.

“what i meant to say was, ‘hyung, i’m going on break, so i won’t be at the register. unfortunately, that means i won’t be here to watch you ogle poor y/n, but since you insist on taking your breaks at the same time she takes hers just so you can stare at her world class -” this final comment goes a little far for jimin, and he draws back an open hand, poised and ready to land a loving, brotherly slap. taehyung jumps away, and wiggles his eyebrows towards the juice bar. if it weren’t for taehyung’s impossibly long legs (and head start) jimin would have beaten him to a pulp. taehyung escapes and jimin pulls himself away from the younger boy’s jeering to mentally prepare himself for the next customer, who’s already lining up their items on the conveyor belt.

jimin glances up past the belt, towards the juice bar, like he’s done at least a million times a shift. but this time, the scenery has changed. no longer are you digging out smoothie contents, arm deep in a blender, or furiously stabbing away at your own outdated register. no, this time, you’re standing calmly at the bar, looking directly ahead of you, locking eyes with the blonde haired angel prince who’d been staring you down from your first training shift.

jimin freezes, and his mind comes to a complete stop. surprisingly, panic doesn’t set in, and he finds himself entirely content to ignore the line forming to instead stand here all day, looking at you looking at him. it’s only when your eyes break with his, glancing over at the overgrown toddler taehyung, who’s still jeering his way down the storefront and making kissy noises, does jimin understand what’s happening here. suddenly, like those atypical war flashbacks that happen in every hollywood blockbuster, the entire scene comes rushing back to jimin in the form of flushed cheeks and a gnawed lip. he’d been staring at you, cursing the angel who’d decided to materialize in the form of a juice bartender, when taehyung had started messing with him. you’d so conveniently looked up, and caught taehyung’s wiggly eyebrows, and jerked thumb, right towards you at the juice bar. jimin’s palms go sweaty, beads of sweat break out on his hairline, and the flawless, uninterested facade he’d kept for exactly 7 and ½ weeks came crumbling down in the form of a laugh.

your laugh, to be exact - loud, tinny, high and full of hope and clouds and sunshine. laughs that were usually reserved for only the funniest customers, or a super good joke from one of your coworkers. jimin never believed, in a million fucking years, that that laugh would be directed towards him.

but as soon as the moment started, it ended. reality came rushing back to the both of you - items that needed scanning, fridges that needed restocking, and smoothies that needed blending. the rest of the afternoon keeps the both of you pretty busy, and jimin spends every break in the action praying he’ll get to recreate it, maybe later on, during your lunch break. he only ends up heartbroken when he’s told the juice bar was swamped today, and that you hadn’t even ended up taking a lunch break, let alone a shorter break, where jimin could duck out of his register and pretend he was just dying for a stale package of cookies from the break room vending machine.

jimin knows his shift has come to an end when taehyung clocks out of his register, only to reappear in jimin’s line, holding a massive energy drink.

“big night planned?” he asks, giving taehyung a broad smile.

“oh you know, the usual - papers to write, video games to play, dicks to suck,” jimin snorts, any sentence he had planned turning into a throaty laugh.

taehyung fakes a heaving sigh, and smiles, “never off the clock…” his gaze travels to the godforsaken juice bar, where you’re tiredly wiping down counters and blenders, cleaning up only for it to be dirtied all over again the next morning.

“you should talk to her, at least once.” taehyung whispers, leaning over the edge of the conveyor belt towards jimin’s ear. jimin gives a little humph - half annoyance, half a poor coverup of the crippling fear of being afraid to talk to you. he hands taehyung his receipt, and waves the boy away. “one of these days… maybe”, jimin mutters under his breath, and taehyung answers with a cheery, “before you die, park jimin!”

jimin’s eyes keep glancing anxiously towards the clock. only five more minutes, then he’s freed from this endless purgatory. it’s your tiny “hey,” that breaks him from his obsessive clock watching, and it takes every ounce of energy that jimin has left in the tank to keep from collapsing right there on the spot. there you are, in his line, looking like heaven dumped everything beautiful and perfect right in front of him. jimin offers an even smaller, “hi, how are you doing?”, his obligatory company line.

“i mean, i only got 4 smoothies and a wheatgrass juice poured on me today, so far, i’d say i’m doing pretty good,”

jimin can’t mask the surprise on his face, eyes glancing up to meet yours. he laughs, out of genuine humor, or out of the fact that you said it so carelessly, so easily, like the pair of you were friends talking about a long shift - he can’t decide, but he does know one thing: he thinks the sound of your voice is the prettiest thing he’s ever heard.

“you looked like you were handling everything pretty well over there,” jimin says, the timid shyness that had settled in his chest now blossoming into a rosebud of confidence.

“well, if anyone would know, it would sure be you, mr. park jimin.” you say with a smile, drinking up the confused, caught-in-the-act expression on the boy’s face. plump lips puffed out into a surprised pout, eyes opening a little larger than normal, but he shakes the expression off pretty fast, replaced with a look of concentration as he rings up your groceries.

“not that i mind,” you add quickly with a smile, and the boy glances up again, gifting you with the smallest of grins.

“we are across from each other, every day, all day,” jimin adds, bagging up your final items. “kinda hard not to look, i mean, you know, the juice bar just happens to be in my natural eyeline, so when people look up, it’s where your eyes naturally fall, and there’s that huge neon sign…” jimin knows he’s starting to ramble, and in order to save him any more mortal embarrassment that he knows he won’t recover from, he decides to cut his losses and stop talking, rubbing the back of his neck as he waits an eternity for your receipt to print. your eyes meet again, and you grace him with the prettiest smile. jimin waits for the sound of his body hitting the floor.

“your shift ends soon, right? do me a huge favor and help me carry this out to my car?” you ask, and jimin smiles.

“meet you outside in two minutes.”

after your groceries are packed away in your trunk, you take the opportunity to look at jimin’s face. you turn around to see him, and here, under the soft yellow lights of the parking lot, you can appreciate the features of his face much better than under the flourescent light of the store. the sweet, quick slope of his nose, the hillside ending in a sweet little button tip. the fluffiness of his blonde hair, moving slightly in the breeze and looking all that more golden in this light. the curve of his cheekbones, slender and slim, turning into pinchable, kissable little pouches on his face when he smiles. the eyes that are wide, curious, but also so full of happiness and sheer joy. and his lips, a perfectly formed pout, pink and full, sitting on the bottom half of his face. your eyes move upwards to meet his, only to find him fixated on your own pair of lips.

“park jimin, are you thinking about kissing me?”

jimin’s eyes meet your own, a mixture between tenderness and shyness. “maybe,” he giggles, and takes a nervous step back.

“well, then do it already,” you say, lips curling up into a cat like grin, enjoying teasing the boy who was practically shaking with nerves. what you didn’t expect was that he’d actually do it.

soft, pillowy lips attach to yours, gentle at first. his hand creeps up to cup your jaw, and he softly deepens it, aligning himself to gain better access to your mouth. it’s his turn to tease you, landing sweet kitten like licks and nips, before pushing his mouth deep into yours. you try your best not to lose yourself in how intense this kiss is getting, but every swirl of jimin’s tongue is driving you further and further to the edge of euphoria. he can’t help but hum as he explores your mouth, tasting the sweet strawberry banana smoothie you had for lunch, melting into your flavor that only he gets to taste, to remember. it’s when you’re both breathless, heads spinning, do you break away, opening your eyes only when you’ve committed the taste to memory.

“do you, um, wanna know something funny?” you ask, too distracted by jimin’s swollen pink pout too even finish your thought.

“what’s that?” he breathes out, moving in closer with every breath, not quite done with the bruised, swollen artwork he was making on your face.

“i just bought 57 dollars worth of groceries that i didn’t need. i literally grabbed the first shit i saw. i just wanted to go through your line and talk to you, because, i’m not sure if you know this, park jimin, but i stare at you at least twice as much as you stare at me.”

jimin stops his descent to your lips, and pulls back, a smile sitting pretty on his face.

“adorable,” he murmurs, and within seconds, his lips attach to yours, returning to the place that already feels like home.

now, whenever jimin glanced up from his register (who had been treated much kinder in recent weeks, thank you very much), he would find you looking at him, offering a sweet smile, a little wave, and if he was lucky - a kiss, blown from your lips, landing right on his heart. joint lunch breaks were no longer coincidence, but yet the best part of both shifts - lunch breaks that sometimes ended a little early for PG-13 romps in the nearest custodial closet.

jimin had always liked his job. he liked his coworkers, he liked the people who came into his line, and he liked the fast-paced atmosphere of the register. but what he liked most was the pretty girl who worked across from him, pouring juice and blowing him kisses all. day. long.

#jimin is so cute #i just wanna smoosh his lil cheeks #park jimin #jimin fluff #jimin smut #jimin angst #jimin au #bts au #bts masterlist #jeon jeongguk #kim seokjin #kim namjoon #kim taehyung #min yoongi #jung hoseok #bangtan scenarios #bangtan sonyeondan #bangtan #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts fluff #bts smut #bts angst #mochi #bts jimin #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #jimin x reader #soft jimin #i literally love him so much

[chocolatemillkk]

Red-Handed II (JS)

Request 1:Can u do a imagine (Joe) where You guys do a video on Reading imagines/fanfics?❤️

Request 2:Is there a chance that you could do a part two to show the teasing??

[Part 1]

It had been a couple weeks since the horrifying incident and since then, I made sure to stay clear of imagines and I made doubly sure to delete Joe's finger print from my phone. He lost his privilege, emergency or not.

I had missed Joe that morning, had a lie in, and then dragged myself to an afternoon shift at work. I promised my friend last week to cover her reception shift this week as she was on holiday, but as a result, I didn't see my boyfriend as much. By the time I came home, it was half past seven, and I could hear Joe's music playing softly mingled with the sizzling of a pan.

"You're a sight for sore eyes," I stop in the middle of the entryway and wait for Joe to notice me. His face relaxes into a smile when he spots me and rummages in the cupboard for a wine glass-pouring me a generous portion.

"At least it's the end of the week," Joe reasons. I nod and watch him cook, sipping the wine, and relishing the mundanity

"How was your day?" I ask when I could muster up enough energy. "Talk to me about you."

"Nothing too exciting," Joe glances at me. "Had a conference call with Zo, had to do some admin, and I was trying to come up with a good idea for a video."

"Still don't have one?" Joe had been asking me for ideas since Wednesday.

"No," Joe groans. "I've been so busy with other things I just feel blocked."

"We'll think of something together-I'll help you with anything." I reach out and squeeze his hand. He leans over the countertop and kisses me, it tastes like black pepper and I tell him that.

"I'm trying to season this fish," Joe laughs.

"It makes me hungry," I chuckle, moving around the counter to swipe a carrot.

"Oi," Joe grabs me by the waist before I can escape and pulls my back into his chest and I giggle. "Don't eat dinner before it's served!"

"I'm hungry!" I whine but Joe tickles me in response. I wriggle and get out of reach but my back soon hits the counter and he traps me in place.

"You have no self-control, woman."

"It's part of my charm." I grin at him.

"Well good thing I like being in control," Joe suddenly changes into a deep-what he thinks is funny-sexy voice.

"Joe," I say seriously in my cross voice. "Don't start."

Joe leans down and brushes his nose against my neck before leaving kisses to my collarbone. I stretch over and turn the oven off, I didn't want anything to burn.

"What's a sexy line I can say?" Joe looks back up at me with a goofy grin. "Let's imagine one together."

"Joe!" I push him off with a smile. "I'm way too tired for this. And you promised you would stop teasing me!"

"But I thought you'd like this after I caught you-"

"Get your head out of your arse," I chuckle. "That was the first and last time I read anything about you. I want food right now, not weird story sex."

"You sure?" Joe raises an eyebrow. "I can't use my piercing gaze and my tongue that has a life of it's own?"

I cringe, "That sounds scary."

Joe sticks out his tongue and brings it closer to me as I back away but in one swoop he leans down and licks my cheek.

"I hope you know," I laugh. "You just got a tongue full of makeup."

"I know! I can taste it!" Joe says with a lisp as he runs to the tap. "It tastes like sun screen!"

I laugh and shake my head at him. "This is why we can't be sexy."

"I can give you fireworks and butterflies like they say I can," Joe finally says, wiping away droplets of water from his mouth.

"Babe are you reading your own imagines?" I ask and Joe goes pink. My jaw drops and I tease him, "Are we that self obsessed then?"

"No I swear it was-it's for research." Joe laughs but embarassment tints his cheeks and I can't help but gloat.

"Research to improve your skills as a lover?" I turn the tables on him, using his jokes against him.

"I don't-I don't need improvement," Joe mutters, turning back to dinner. "I was having fun teasing you the other week and then I was just fascinated and horrified at some of the things people write out there."

I wrap my arms around him, laughing. "So what's this 'research' for?"

"Well..." Joe turns to me. "So you did say you'd help me with anything right?"

"I don't like where this is going," I say.

"Okay I think it would actually be really funny if we reenact imagines."

"Joe your followers barely know I'm your girlfriend! That's-it's-we can't!"

"Come on!" Joe pulls his puppy face. "We can come out more officially-and we'll only do the PG-13 imagines."

"Don't give me that face," I rub his face with my hand and he pulls away laughing.

"So will you do it?" Joe asks.

"What do I get from this?" I sigh.

"Are you kidding me?" Joe grins and points to himself. "You get me!"

"I already have you!" I shout as I walk away. I wanted more comfortable clothes if this topic continued but Joe laughs knowing he'd won the deal.

•••

"Are you guys ready?" Josh asks at the camera. Joe had convinced Jack and Oli to join us as the imagine he chose had both of them in it. It also involved Jack touching me a lot so I wondered what Joe was up to.

But turns out, he hadn't realised what re-enacting actually ensued. Or he hadn't read the full imagine. The story's plot was Joe was in love with me but so was Jack and Jack had a lot of flirting bits. The reader had just added in Oli as a wingman and Oli performed that in a perfect, booming voice.

"A little quieter," Josh complains during the second half. I had dressed in the club dress the imagine outlined and so far had swerved a kiss from Jack that made Joe clench his jaw, danced with Joe as if we were at prom, and swooned at Jack's muscles like an 90s romcom.

"Joe's a wanker," Jack tries to bite back a giggle as he reads his script. "You deserve a real man like me. I can take care of you."

"Y/N looks over Jack and even though she could fall for those baby blues that pierced her soul, they weren't the eyes she wanted to fall for." Josh reads the narration. Jack and I bite back grins staring at the other and I hear Joe snort off screen. I couldn't believe he had roped me into all this but I was having fun with my role in all this. I put my hands on Jack's "broad shoulders" and lean into him.

"You're not the man I want," I was supposed to whisper sexily but Jack and I just collapse against the other giggling.

"Can we take this last scene seriously?" Josh shouts. He was hangry. We'd been filming for a couple hours now because Jack and I kept laughing and Oli kept shouting his lines. Joe was quieter than I thought through all this.

"It's so ridiculously far-fetched," I wipe my tears. "I can't help it!"

"Wait," Josh stops me wiping my other eye. "Leave the tears for the drama."

That only causes us to laugh more and Josh rolls his eyes.

"Josh would make a perfect Hollywood director." I whisper. "Okay, again!"

I put my hands on Jack's shoulders and leave the tears on my face. Jack clears his throat and we continue the scene. I kiss Jack on the cheek and he pretends to be hearbroken as the camera pans to me knocking on an imaginary door.

"Y/N," Joe answers the "door".

"Y/N looked at the sexy beast standing before him-hey that's what they called me at school-"

"Josh!" We all shout and he chuckles, apologising. I bet the unedited version of this video would be a lot funnier.

"...Joe doesn't have to hear Y/N say it. He already knows what was deep in her heart."

"Aw," Oli says absentmindedly and we all shoot him a dirty look. He mouths a sorry and goes back to his phone.

"So Y/N says I love you, and jumps onto Joe, and he catches her perfectly curved body as their lips meet in a fiery passion-Y/N you're supposed to jump."

Joe and I had been too busy staring at each other in horror.

"Did you actually read through this?" I said under my breath.

"I skimmed it," Joe admits. "Fucking hell-just jump already."

"Here goes," I say. I tell Joe I loved him which makes him smile and when I jump he catches me despite stumbling back.

"That looks like you two have practiced this...like you guys...have experience." Josh says right up against the mic.

Joe and I part from the final kiss and I laugh at Joe's mouth which is smeared with red lipstick. I had worn it on purpose.

"Josh you interrupt just as much as we screw up."

"The story's done!" Josh gets up from behind the camera and walks in front of it. "And scene!"

"Thank god," Joe says as I slide down. The boys look at him and start cracking up.

"You look like a bloody clown," Jack laughs.

"I feel like one," grumbles Joe and I wipe at his mouth affectionately. "Alright boys thanks for the help but we'll clean up on our own."

"Wait you're kicking us out? After we filmed for more than two bloody hours for you?" Jack asks.

"You promised you would feed me," Josh complains.

"We'll meet you at that Mexican restaurant in an hour and I'll pay-I'm gonna clean up first."

The boys complain and call Joe names but they leave and as soon as the door closes, Joe sighs against it. I smirk with my hand on my hip.

"Enjoyable?"

"I did not enjoy how much Jack seemed to enjoy that imagine."

"You're the one that chose it love," I laugh.

"I know," Joe stumbles towards me and reaches his hands to where the short dress ended. "I didn't realise how good you would look in this dress or how good you were at acting."

"Just admit you were jealous of mine and Jack's relationship," I tease.

"I...yeah alright." Joe buries his face in my neck. "You're mine."

"I'm yours," I laugh, stroking Joe's hair. "And you're mind despite what all these 'y/n's' think."

Joe crushes me to him and kisses me and I can tell he'd been wanting to do that since Jack's almost-kiss.

"Babe we should start cleaning if we want to make it," I tell him after.

"Oh I just used cleaning as an excuse to get the boys out," Joe winks.

"Oh. So...what did you have in mind?" I grin, catching on. "Another imagine?"

"No more imagines," Joe groans. "Ever. I promise I'll never bring that up."

"At least your followers will get a fun video."

"Yeah, and at least now I can do this, on and off camera." Joe pulls me to him and kisses me with a frantic urgency.

"I'm not going anywhere babe," I say when we part for a breath.

"Only to our bedroom," Joe says against my lips. We grin at each other like two conspirators having kicked our friends out for this. We rush upstairs, taking the stairs two and a time and laughing the whole way. Our bodies collide in the bedroom once again, continuing our story-this time, R-rated...

#joe sugg #joe sugg imagine #joe sugg imagines #youtube imagines #fic #thatcherjoe imagines #thatcherjoe imagine #thatcherjoe #jack maynard #oli white #josh pieters #buttercream gang #buttercream imagines #this is a word vomit #and i barely edited #so apologies #i just wanted to get this one out

[themushymess]

Happy for those who were able to grieve.

I couldn’t feel sad. Ricky and Emily’s moments of grief, and Andy’s scenes were completely overshadowed by Rusty, and RUSTY WAS NOT THE ONLY FUCKING PERSON IN SHARON’S LIFE.

All I got out of this episode was a nice transition for the “real” main character to shine. This show really did turn into the joke people said it was seasons ago. I’ve never been subjected to being forced to watch a character so much in my entire life. Even the aftermath of Sharon’s death was all about him.

I’m not exaggerating:

Think I’m gonna get proflynnza: Gotta tell RUSTY about Emma

Andy blames himself for sharon collapsing: RUSTY explains it all away

Murder room scene: RUSTY is explaining his Stroh research

Sharon’s office: RUSTY will clean it out

Sharon’s videos: One for the fam, one for RUSTY

Ricky scene during breakfast: let’s talk about RUSTY’S situation

Seeing one of sharon’s videos: she calls Ricky her eldest, mentions her husband and daughter briefly then Segway to RUSTY, listening to his special sharon video, loading his gun, washing his face, etc

Andy in the living room, missing Sharon: OH LOOK THERE’S RUSTY

Emily saying goodbye: makes it about RUSTY and worrying about his safety

It was thrown in my face so much that I couldn’t even focus on anything else. I wish I could have grieved her and had a good cry but, this episode made it impossible.

I’m done with this show, and I hate that Duff made me not want to ride this franchise that I have watched for 12 years to its conclusion.

I love Mary, and I’m sure she means well in protecting her friends that she worked with on the show, but for someone who begged and begged and begged us to watch these last four episodes in WWSRD, she sure has been silent all day.

I don’t care how Stroh gets taken down. I honestly don’t. Without Sharon the team is disjointed and out of sync. So Rusty can shoot him between the eyes and ride off into the sunset with Gus forever, I could give two shits. I loved Sharon so much, and they killed her off so once again, as Hollywood loves to do, a young male character could take over. God forbid Sharon be able to be the formidable force she always was until the end.

Duff is a joke and I hope he never sees another success.

#major crimes #sharon raydor who #rusty beck show #shandy #andy flynn #sharon raydor #mary mcdonnell