#i mean hey it's not too late!! @ hollywood make it happen

[violetflowerswrites]

I’ll Be Here

Summary: After a traumatic injury, your SWAT roommate turned boyfriend (?) Jim Street strives to take care of you, and meet all of your needs.

Pairing: Jim Street x (Female) Reader

Disclaimer: Minor mentions of leg injury, meds, and recovery with wheelchair, casts, and crutches. Reader has a protective older sister. One scene of nightmares, mentions of trauma. Discussion of child abuse, drug use, drunkenness, in Street’s family history. Filthy Smut. Oral sex (female receiving). Consensual P in V sex. 18+ for explicit smut, and language

Word Count: 4.0k

A/N: I felt like there needed to be one more epilogue / ending to this Street x Roommate fic series. It picks up directly after the ending of Part Two (Taking it Slow). I got a little caught up fleshing out her backstory and recovery journey, but there’s a bit of angst, a bit of fluff, and quite a bit of smut. I added some details from Season 4, Ep 2 as well. It’s a slower paced story than what I normally like, but I still had a fun hell of time writing it. Enjoy!

Part One Here - “Too Complicated”

Part Two Here - “Taking It Slow”

Masterlist Here

…

The click of the door makes the two of you startle, and quickly.

“Commander Hicks is gonna put you on armory duty for a week for pulling a stunt like that.”

“Hey, Tan.” Street smiles at his teammate’s lack of greeting. Classic Tan — a bit of hard-ass, but always means well. “Hicks already chewed my ear off on the phone earlier.”

“Figured. I just wanted to come down, see how my friend’s sister was doing. I already briefed her on what happened. She’s on her way back from a case up in Burbank.”

“Thank you, Victor.” You breathe out a sigh of relief.

Victor Tan was co-workers with your older sister back from his days in LAPD’s Hollywood Vice division. When you decided to move to LA, she figured you being roommates with a SWAT officer was the safest place you could be.

But the world is a dangerous place, even if you live with Jim Street, LAPD SWAT.

Victor looks you up and down, noticing that besides being a little pale, and having a massive cast on your leg, you don’t seem to be in pain.

Then, he notices the way that Street is standing— body turned to yours, hand hovering on the bedside protectively, as if he wanted to hold your hand at any given moment.

“Hold on, don’t tell me you two are a thing now.”

A hot flush creeps up your skin and you and Street immediately stumble over your responses.

“We were trying to take it slow—“

“and not make things too complicated…”

“but then this happened so…”

“We don't really know what we are, but I do know that I am so so grateful for you Victor. You and Street helped save my life.”

You end your rush of words with a watery smile, emotion cracking your voice.

Tan looks down sheepishly, immediately trying to be casual about it.

“Nah, Y/N. It was the tourniquet you made that probably saved your life. You gave us a big scare today, but I am glad to see you’re okay.”

“That makes 3 of us.”

A petite, fierce-looking female cop stands in the doorway of the hospital room, her hand sweeping back some stray hairs that fell out of her tight bun in her rush to get to you.

…

Your bad-ass cop sister stays over for a week while you recover, watching Street like a hawk. You’re so hopped up on pain-killers that you barely notice the tension between them.

Street on the other hand, feels like he’s being evaluated in some test he didn’t train for. He couldn’t take time off, so he’s eager to see you whenever he gets home. But most of the time, your sister is hovering over you, helping you adjust to moving around in the wheelchair, and making sure you are eating your meals and taking all your meds correctly.

One late evening while you’re supposed to be sleeping, you overhear your sister confront him.

“So. When were you gonna tell me you’re fucking my sister?”

Street spits out the beer he just took a sip of. He’s barely exchanged more than a few sentences to your sister, and that was when she helped you move in a few months ago.

“Uh…”

“I see the way you look at her. I’m pretty sure I warned you that this arrangement was solely to keep her safe while living in this neighborhood. Didn’t expect you guys to fuck so quickly.”

Damn. Your sister is known to be blunt, but this is next level. You remembered how she reacted when your dick-head of a college ex-boyfriend broke your heart. He was sorry to have ever known you after that.

“About that…” Street starts, but gets cut off with a raised palm in his face.

“Before you say anything, I’m not an idiot. I’ve seen the way she looks at you. She hasn’t told me yet, but I know. She’s down bad for you, Street.”

You automatically pull your covers up in embarrassment, hearing your sister lay all your feelings out in the open like that. She’s right though, you’ve fallen hard for him and it’s not just because he saved your life a week ago.

It’s because he's an empathetic listener to your rants about work, LA traffic, anything.

It’s the way he notices the small things, like when you're stress baking, or when you have your shoulders hunched up in frustration at the kitchen counter.

It’s how he gently pries your closed off doors open, helping you heal from your past.

It’s how he loves you, in such a sweet, gentle way that only he can.

“So you have 2 days before I go back to Vice to show me that you can take care of her.”

“You’re leaving?”

“Well, I don’t want to, but we’re about to make a big drug bust and my team needs me. Y/N is strong. She can take care of herself, but I worry about her. Her surgery was intense, and it’s gonna be a long recovery. I was gonna have her live with me for a few months, but I don’t think she wants to be away from you.”

“Thank you.” Street lets out the breath he didn’t know he was holding. He may be a big bad SWAT officer, but your 5 foot nothing of a cop sister scared the shit out of him.

“Don’t thank me yet.”

…

That weekend, you get the full princess treatment from Street. He helps train your upper body strength to be able to lift yourself on and off your wheelchair. He takes you to the park to get some sun, and makes sure the entire house is wheelchair friendly so you can move around independently. He rearranges the fridge and pantry so that your favorite foods are all easily reachable from your lower height. He even meal-preps some home-cooked lunches to have while you go back to work on Monday.

Working with your sister, he re-arranges his schedule so he can drive you to the office in the morning and your sister can take you home.

On Sunday evening, you read out a long string of dates as Street writes all your upcoming appointments on the fridge-calendar and your sister says which ones she can take you to, and which ones she needs Street to help drive you.

“Well…fuck.” Your sister swears, which only happens when she’s particularly exasperated.

”What? What’s wrong?” You look up from your laptop with your Google calendar open.

“Y/N, I didn’t wanna admit it, but you got a good one here.”

An ear-splitting grin spreads across Street’s face as he realizes what she means.

You obviously told your sister that you overheard Friday night’s conversation, and all of what’s been going on between you and Street…minus the mind-blowing sex.

“He passed?” You ask eagerly, hopeful stars in your eyes.

“He never had to pass anything in the first place, Y/N. If you chose him, that’s all the approval I needed to know. I trust you. I was just giving him a hard time, because I love you.”

You burst out laughing while Street spits out a flabbergasted “The hell did I try so hard for?!”

“That’s what big sisters are for. Y/N deserves all the princess treatment she can get. We put our lives on the line every day, but she doesn’t normally have to. She’s gonna need you, Street.”

Street places a reassuring hand on your sisters’ shoulder.

“I’ll be here.”

…

Street lives up his promise, taking care of you through some of the worst physical and emotional pain you’ve ever been in.

He’s there at your physical therapy appointments, making sure you’re practicing the exercises at home even when you just want to lie down from exhaustion.

He’s there holding your hand even though you squeeze him until his fingers go numb. It hurts him to see your face contort with unexpected pain when the meds wear off and you try putting some weight on your leg for the first time in weeks.

He’s there when the trauma sets in. He notices when you’re on the couch in the evenings, the TV on, but you’re not really watching. He holds you tightly while you wake up in the middle of night crying, reliving the moment you almost died.

He’s there through it all.

…

“How do you deal with it?”

You’re sitting upright in bed, the soft yellow glow of the bedside lamp warming the darkness of the middle of the night.

“Deal with what?”

Street’s sitting next to you, holding your hand while your sweat-soaked forehead leans against his shoulder, your racing heartbeat finally slowing down.

Your breath draws in and out in a steady rhythm as you calm yourself from your latest nightmare with his comforting presence.

Street ran into your room when he heard you. That’s been the third night in a row that you’ve woken up to the sound of your own screaming.

“Deal with trauma. Not the physical pain, but those horrible moments that just keep flashing before your eyes every time you close them.”

“Well, I’ve been dealing with trauma my whole life I guess.”

Street has already talked to you about growing up in the foster system, because his dad was a drunk. You knew that his mom was in jail for killing him, but Street didn’t go into details. You knew as much as he hated talking about his past, he hated talking about his complicated relationship with his mom even more.

“Last week, we were surveilling a house, trying to get someone for the CIA, and I saw a kid. A little boy, covered in bruises on his back porch. He looked so alone, and so scared.”

“What happened?”

“I got into it with Hondo a bit, almost compromised the mission because I wanted to get him out of that abusive home.”

“Did you?”

“Yes. But it brought back a lot of memories, and none of them good.”

It was your turn to comfort Street as you could hear his breath come in shudders as he thought back to his rough childhood.

“Have I ever told you that my earliest memory of kindergarten was my mom putting makeup on my chin to cover up my dad’s crappy weekend?”

“No.” The word comes out in a saddened whisper. “You’ve never told me that one before.”

“Well, it’s not something that comes up in casual conversation. And I’ve tried a lot of things to make sure I never have to mention those moments.”

“What kinds of things?”

Street lets out a wry chuckle.

“What haven’t I tried? Drugs, alcohol. Thrill seeking. Street racing. Driving way past the speed limit.”

“You still do that one.”

Street laughs genuinely now. “Yeah, but not where I’ll get caught by cops.”

“You are a cop!”

He chuckles again, but quiets down into contemplative silence.

“For many years, I just poured myself into my job. Climbing the ladder until I could make something of myself. Run away as far as I could from that childhood me. The one with the drunk dad, jailed mom. The helpless foster kid.”

“It didn’t help, did it?”

“No. Not really.”

“Then, how did you heal?”

Street looks down at you now, his heart breaking to see tears streaming down your face. He’s certain those are empathetic tears, tears for his hardships. His rough childhood. Pangs of guilt wash over him.

He doesn’t deserve your tears.

Then, he sees the way you’re looking at him. The way you’re holding him in a bone-crushing embrace. Well, as tightly as you could possibly hold all of his heavily-muscled torso.

So, he sucks in a grounding breath and reminds himself that you’re crying because you care about him. Because you love him.

And it’s okay to accept your love.

Street caresses your cheek with a strong hand, and thumbs off a few of your tears.

“I’m still healing. But when those moments come, I’ve learned that it helps to talk about it.”

All those late-night bike rides down the California coastline could never truly help him escape from his problems.

He thinks back to all the people in his life who’ve helped him open up. Who’ve confronted him on his bullshit and made him stop running away.

Hondo and Buck.

Chris, Deacon, Tan, and Luca.

Even his ex-girlfriend, Molly Hicks.

As much as he hates to admit it, putting his trauma out in the open was better than keeping it in.

Your hand in his starts trembling and that small movement pulls him out of his thoughts.

“What if I’m not ready to talk yet?” You choke, as if you could barely get the words out.

“Then I’ll be here waiting until you are.”

…

Weeks pass in a whirlwind of work, doctors’ appointments, and recovery exercises at home. Eventually, the nightmares subside, and you start seeing a therapist to help you work through the trauma.

You graduate from the wheelchair and giant full-length cast to a bootie on your calf and ankle. The hardwood floor is littered with little dents from the first few days you learned to hobble around on crutches, but you get the hang of it quickly.

Both Street and your sister feel much more at ease leaving you at home alone, knowing that you can take care of yourself more easily now.

Except today.

Because your idiot brain put the crutches by the bathroom door instead of next to the towel rack.

And here you are, butt-naked in the shower, the floor wet and a slipping hazard, and 6 feet away from independence.

Just as you debate bear-crawling across the cold tile to grab your crutches, you hear the front door open and close.

“Street!” You call out.

Heavy footsteps rush over to the bathroom and skid to a stop as Street quickly leans his head against the door and asks urgently, “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine! I just left the crutches by the door and I can’t reach them. Can you help me get out of the shower?”

Street breathes out a sigh of relief. Ever since the accident, he finds himself panicking easily about any situation that has to do with you getting hurt.

“Of course. I’m coming in.”

You’ve managed to dry yourself off, wrap your body in a fluffy white towel, and sit on the edge of the tub.

It doesn’t go unnoticed by Street how your damp hair clings to your skin, flushed from the hot water. Lavender-scented steam hits him in a rush as he opens the door, a familiar smell to him. You love lavender shampoo, soaps, lotions, candles, anything.

He scoops you up gently, trying not to think about the last time he carried you like this was when you were bloodied, unconscious, and barely alive.

A small moan draws him out of his head immediately.

Not a moan of pain.

A moan of lust.

What?

Street freezes and gently places you on the bathroom counter, carefully holding your injured leg against his hip.

His eyes dart across your flustered face as you realize just what kind of inadvertent sound escaped your lips as soon as you were in Street’s strong arms, and you inhaled the familiar leather of his bike jacket.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Street kisses you breathless and pulls your towel down, inhaling your damp skin and that damned lavender soap that is making him dizzy with lust.

Water drips from the ends of your hair down your body, and Street licks up the river trailing from your shoulder, down the swell of your breasts, all the way to your core.

He pulls you to the edge as he kneels down in front of you. Ever-conscious of your injury, he lifts your hurt leg onto his shoulder, which only serves to widen your thighs, giving him full access.

Your knuckles tighten against the counter and your moans bounce off the tiled walls the second he licks your dripping pussy.

Street is a master at oral and it’s been weeks since you’ve had the pleasure of being his pupil.

His tongue dives first into your center, stretching your hot, leaking core. Then his lips find your clit, sucking it in gently, until the nerve endings in the sensitive nub light your body up with pleasure.

Before you have a moment to recover, his fingers find your entrance and enter with ease. Your slick gushes out, dripping onto the towel as he thrusts two fingers in and out. His knuckles curl up, searching for the spongy spot that he knows will drive you absolutely wild.

Filthy sounds of wetness fill the bathroom as he eats you out and fingers your clenched center, once, twice, three times.

Before long, his moans mix with your own as you voice your pleasure, cumming on his face in moments.

“Keep going.”

Street freezes at the first words you’ve uttered since he kissed you. It was an impulse, a lack of self-control that got him to this point in the first place.

It was seeing you nearly naked, with that damned lavender filling his nostrils that drove him crazy.

But he was going to stop. It was enough to get you off.

”I’m not done yet, Street.” You demand arrogantly, and look pointedly at the hard erection pushing against his dark-blue jeans.

“But—“

“I’ll be fine. Just hold my leg up and fuck me.”

You pull him up by the collar of his leather jacket, and kiss him roughly, panting in his ear as you lick and suckle the skin of his cheek, his neck, the underside of his jaw.

It’s been too long since you’ve had his body, his touch, his cock. You crave him with a hunger you’ve never known before.

And now that you’ve had a taste, every cell in your being is vibrating with one simple word.

More.

Needing no other encouragement, Street strips off his jacket only for you to take it and pull it over your bare shoulders.

The sight of you, fully naked except for his jacket, makes him suck in a breath.

His eyes darken immediately and he can hear his heart beat in double time.

You make him go feral.

It takes no time at all for him to rid himself of his remaining clothing, and line himself up with your pink entrance.

“You’ll tell me if I’m hurting you?” Street asks, still hesitant, even as the pre-cum of his throbbing member mixes with your juices.

“Yes.” You affirm breathlessly, feeling the round tip of his hard cock start to breach your center.

“You’ll stop me if you can’t handle it?”

“Yes.”

“You’re sure about this, Y/N?”

“Yes! Street, fill me with your cock already!”

He blushes at your filthy words, feeling the heel of your good leg dig into the small of his back, trying to draw him into your waiting core.

You finally feel him push through the tight circle of your center. You’re especially tight, having not had sex since the accident over a month ago.

Street lets out a growl as he feels your pussy gripping him, struggling to push in deeper.

But instead of pain, you only feel pleasure.

“Fuck—! That feels incredible. Go deeper, Street. Please!” You beg him, desperate for more.

He grabs your thighs, fingers digging into your soft flesh as he pulls you towards his pelvis. You can feel his cock thrust to the end, finally completely filling you with all of him.

You throw your arms around his waist, breathing heavily as the heady lavender steam only serves to make the two of you even more sex-drunk.

You hear Street suck in another deep breath before he pulls out, and slowly inches his way back into you, experimenting with how fast he should go.

How much you can handle.

But the slower pace feels heavenly to your hot, needy core. His cock stretches every part of you, pressing against your spongy center, all the way to your cervix as he thrusts down to the hilt once more.

”How’s that, Y/N? Does it hurt?” Street checks in with you again, a vein popping out of his neck as he strains to maintain his self-control. All his cock wants is to fuck you with total abandon, but he refuses to put himself first.

Your voice comes out in a stream of incoherent whimpers as you wordlessly express just how good it feels to be filled by him.

So Street cups the back of your ass, and presses you flush against him, and you cry out, feeling him impossibly deep inside.

“Oh my god! Street!”

“I’m just getting started.” He grins, licking the side of your neck as he starts to roll his hips into you.

You feel his cock slip out just a few inches only to thrust back in as far as it can go, over and over.

As you look down, you are blessed with the magnificent sight of Street’s abs clenching with every sensual roll of his body against yours.

Every slight motion pushes you to the brink of orgasm, your body almost unable to handle all the stimulation after having only known pain and discomfort for the past several weeks.

Impulsively, you bite down on Street’s shoulder, trying to expend all the pleasure you’re feeling somewhere else, muffling your moans against his muscled flesh.

“Shit! Are you biting me?” Street growls, incredulous, but also massively turned on.

“Does it hurt?” You grin mischievously, pulling his lower lip in between your teeth next.

“Yeah.”

“A good hurt, or bad hurt?”

“Good.” Another sharp inhale. “Fuck, I’m already close!”

Street’s body shudders as you feel his grip slide back to your hips, his slow thrusts giving way to a faster, more desperate rhythm.

You nibble and nip the side of his neck, the bottom of his ear, as you feel just how hot his skin is under your tongue and lips.

Another loud moan is wrenched from your throat as he hits a particularly sensitive spot inside you. His cock satisfies your body in a way you can’t describe.

You can’t wait any longer.

“Cum for me.” You whisper into his ear, demanding his obedience. His brow furrows as he tries to delay his incoming orgasm, and you kiss it, giggling as you watch him come undone by your body.

Street pushes his cock into you, your wetness making the movement easy, but your tightness gripping him like he is never supposed to separate from you again.

You lock your fingers behind the small of his back, pulling him in and clenching down until you feel his cock spurt out jets of hot cum into your core.

Street grits his teeth and heaves out the sexiest, most overstimulated moan you’ve ever heard from any man.

Your own orgasm follows right behind his, your entire being vibrating with pleasure, wetness repeatedly gushing around his cock. Your pussy stutters, muscles spasming as it tries to recover from the best sex you’ve ever had, with the biggest cock you’ve ever had.

With the most loving, caring man you’ve ever had. Your heart fills with love and contentment at the moment the two of you just shared.

This is what sex should be like - intimacy, pleasure, love.

It is truly something else.

“Y/N?” Street murmurs against your damp shoulder, slowly regaining some semblance of control and coherent thoughts.

“Mmm?”

“You know I love you, right?”

“I know.”

“I never want to hurt you.”

“I know.”

“I’ll always be here for you.”

You find the rough skin of his jaw and pry him off your body, and instead, pull his face towards you, your forehead pressing against his. As you lock eyes with the emotional gaze of your lover, you notice that he’s a little teary, and your heart melts for him even more. Jim Street. The love of your life.

“I know.”

…

[theconstantsidekick]

no because, supernatural is absolutely a train wreck. it's a colossal accident that is happening in front of you that you can't look away from. it is homophobic and non-sensical and downright laughable at times but you know what? I love it. I absolute love it.

season 1 was absolutely beautiful. you don't understand, really, you don't. they had a piss poor budget, you can see that in every frame. but does that stop it from being fucking beautiful? no. it is stylised and ambitious and a fucking visual treat.

and this is like the first fucking episode. the shots have so much character! and that's nothing to say of the characters themselves. from the first fucking scene you can clearly distinguish sam and dean's character clear as day. their motivations, their dreams, their hopes, all of it. it's established so well. their dynamic is unmatched. does it also have a lot of garbage? yes for sure. because what in the name of hell was that episode with bugs? what glue were they sniffing when they green lit that one? no seriously... I wanna try some.

but then they recovered, cause they did faith. my god, what an episode. WHAT AN EPISODE. that motherfucking reaper haunts my every waking hour

like yeah, I love me some baby dean and baby sam going on their small scale ghost hunts while learning deep lessons about who they are as people and what they want from life.

also that 'laugh I nearly died' needle drop? where sam sees jess? god tier editing, GOD TIER.

then they came back with season 2. and here is my most controversial opinion that should not be controversial at all, season 2 is the best season of supernatural to ever supernatural.

what is and what should never be, hollywood babylon, heart, nightshifter, and the whole fucking season actually. not a single miss in my humble opinion. and that finale? THAT FINALE. beautiful, magnificent. ground breaking character writing, everything comes full circle while simultaneously opening up new plot lines to explore.

and my god, yellow eyes is an epic villain. he is a very viciously written villain like, he's... my god. it ain't a walk in the park writing villains, believe you me patient readers, villains are harder to write than the protagonists, always. well, at least the compelling ones are.

now season 3 suffered because of the writer's strike, but didn't miss much either. like yeah some of the hits don't hit as hard as the season 2, but hey, mystery spot, time is on my side, ghostfacers, bedtime stories are nothing to laugh about. those episodes are fucking solid, like most of the season. and there is so much raw emotion is sam's need to save dean, it just makes my weak winchester brothers loving heart throb a little too hard. also...

need I say more?

does the show did look little more washed out and boring? yes. but it's cool, cause we're moving on to season 4.

listen, I kinda just wanna leave all my season's critique at this. i mean, yeah this. this is it. this is the long and short of it; castiel. i don't think i need to get anymore into it

so season 5 is just—

i'm kidding. obviously i'm gonna talk about season 4, at length.

listen, being able to introduce angels this late in the game and then have them be a such perfectly hidden players is a masterstroke of genius. it just is. i am a writer guys... apart from the relentless fanfic as well lol. and when i tell you, introducing a new big player which is also (not so) secretly the next big bad and playing it off as smoothly as they did in season 4, is beyond hard. but the biggest home run these fuckers hit is castiel and the best part is they weren't aiming for a one lol. and oh oh, the way they use their very VERY limited budget to show wings with just flashing the fucking light? CINEMA! that's fucking cinema right there man. i work on film sets, i am telling you, this is the smartest filmmaking choice they make on the entire show. it adds so much visual intrigue while being so awfully easy to execute. BRILLIANt.

now i cannot talk about supernatural without talking about the deancas romance of it all, which i understand not everyone can see or wants to, which is fine. to each their own. you consume art the way you want to, i don't care much as long as you can acknowledge that castiel and dean's friendship was just some of the best written television that mankind has ever seen. is that too grand a statement? yes. does that make it any less true? no.

they even brought back the moody lighting.

and then there's the episodes this season, most of which are home runs in their own regard. just like beautiful writing, the character development for cas, for dean, for sam, even the late john winchester is wild. anna is a wonderful addition, so is uriel, and alastair? they don't make villains like him anymore, they just fucking don't. AND THAT GODDAMN PLOT TWIST AT THE END? man! the finale was just... too good. Chuck's introduction is absolutely wonderful, even if they ruin him by the end but that happens a decade later so wtv, who cares? But,,,, Jimmy. Fucking. Novak. That's all. that's the tweet. yeah. i'm gonna end the season 4 fan fair with jimmy.

moving to season 5.

subjectively speaking, this is my fucking favorite. this season is a writer's dream while also being their goddamn nightmare. so many WONDERFUL characters to play with and such a grand plot but you get to see it all on a very small, consumable scale which is just... it's too smart for me to not mention. i won't start naming the plot points and neither will i name my favourite episodes because what even is the point? all of it was fucking perfect. you don't understand how hard it is to develop characters to such an extent that they become so familiar to the audience that they know their next move before you even put it on the screen. and supernatural had that. they tied everything together with so much care and consideration, just... AAAH so good.

a special shoutout goes to endverse!cas, crowley and death this season. you all know it in your bones that those three were just the absolute scene stealers. especially death's introduction... immaculate.

they did lose a few points for not being as aesthetically pleasing as the past few seasons but hey, gabriel was enough to make a smooth recovery.

but this... this is the end of the road for me people. season 5 is where it should have ended. in no way shape or form am i saying that there aren't a few good episodes here and there after this, because there are. i think season 5 was so fucking solid, tied up so many goddamn lose ends and then just put a cute little hell shaped bow on top and i just... yeah. this was and should have been the end of the road. do not get me wrong, i love me some jack kline, charlie bradbury, kevin tran, rowena macleod and eileen lahey but were they worth the bullshit ending i had to sit through? not really.

i absolutely think if there weren't more episodes of supernatural I would never have become a destiel fan, because i started shipping them when dean made cas a mixtape in season TWELVE! but my god, the good times were so scattered amongst the horseshit that even when i found those hidden gems, they were so fucking drenched in the stink that they lost their value.

the worst of it all is that, i cannot explain to you what supernatural means to me in a million words, because it is a part of me, heart and soul. i fucking AM castiel. i am a gay little angel you hear me? i love this show. i do. i'm glad it went on for however long it did but i feel like once in a while i need to write shit like this or read shit like this to remind myself of the show that it used to be. of it's beautiful cinematography, of it's clever little storytelling techniques. of it's wonderful cast. of how epic their song choices used to be.

FUcking RENEGADE? iconic. wanted, dead or alive? cannot hear the song without hearing sam's off tune goat bleating that he called singing along.

i need to remind myself of how afraid i used to be of lucifer. of how much i cried while watching dark side of the moon; when dean and sam burst the crackers, and how i learnt the lyrics to knocking on heaven's door just because of that scene.

sometimes i just have to walk through memory lane and look back at gabriel's death, the good one, the only one. it was so fucking meaningful. i have to think of "we are making it up as we go" to be able to breathe properly because those moments were so fucking beautiful.

fuck the big ones, i even remind myself of the small ones, of dean's handwriting being in all caps, just like him. of sam's fucking huge laptop with that weird blue black sticker in the middle. of castiel's tie, that just was the right shade of blue, and hung all wrong but just naturally enough to add so much more to his character than any fucking dialogue could. every small little detail of supernatural that made it so damn supernatural. i miss it all.

idk. i'm rambling. whatever.

[wonderfulworldofmichaelford]

Michael After Midnight: The Films of Quentin Tarantino

There are few directors out there as ridiculously praised and extremely controversial as Quentin Tarantino. He’s done nothing his whole career but release films that garner critical acclaim and massive fanbases due to the stellar acting and writing within his films, but at the same time he’s been relentlessly criticized for his excessive use of racial slurs, his excessive homages to the point of plagiarism, and his habit of inserting his fetishes into every single one of his movies. What fetishes do I mean? Let’s just say his films have a lot of sole, and it would be no easy feet to go toe-to-toe with how in your face he is about what he likes.

While the man does have his problems (don’t get me started, I’m here to review movies, not gossip) and his style certainly isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, I’ve found myself enjoying his work a lot ever since I was a teenager, and his films are what pushed me into checking out a lot of more obscure films in the exploitation genre; in particular, I’m a pretty big fan of blaxploitation thanks to Tarantino’s work, and I doubt I would’ve ever checked it out if not for his constant homages. I can’t really hate a guy who helped make me aware of Pam Grier, can I?

What’s most impressive is that out of his ten films there’s not one I would say is genuinely “bad.” Sure, there’s at least one I think is a boring, middling affair, and there are a couple of heavily flawed but still solid films, but there isn’t a single awful movie in his filmography. That’s honestly pretty impressive, especially considering the sort of weird throwback films he makes. After finally sitting down and watching Once Upon a Time in Hollywood recently, I decided it was finally time to bite the bullet and do what was a long time coming on this blog: Review Tarantino’s movies. And then I just decided, hey, why not review them all at once, as an homage to Schafrillas Productions and his director rankings? Oho, see, I can homage things too!

To be clear here, I’m only reviewing the films Quentined and Tarantined by the man himself; the “Tarantinoverse” is a bit more expansive than his own filmography, as True Romance (which he wrote) is canon and Machete, Machete Kills, From Dusk Til Dawn, Hobo with a Shotgun, Planet Terror, Thanksgiving, and the Spy Kids movies are all part of the “show within a show” side of his world, but those are all topics for another time. Right now, it’s all Tarantino baby! Now let’s get on to the actual ranking, and pray that I don’t put a foot in my mouth with these opinions.

10. Once Upon a Time... in Hollywood

I feel pretty safe in calling this Tarantino’s worst film. It’s not necessarily awful or anything, it has good qualities to it, but it takes every problem Tarantino’s style has and cranks it up to 11.

The film is long and dialogue-heavy, with lots of that classic Tarantino writing, but while individual scenes are good such as when Leonardo DiCaprio’s character is filming a scene with a little girl or Brad Pitt’s character goes to the ranch the Manson Family are holed up at they never really feel like they congeal into a cohesive narrative, instead feeling more like a long string of vignettes. This is especially bad in regards to Margot Robbie’s Sharon Tate, whose numerous scenes really add nothing to the movie but constant looming reminders that Helter Skelter is going to happen and lots of shots of Robbie’s feet. The excessively padded runtime is so bad that when you finally get to the part where the tables are turned on the Manson Family, a historical twist that should feel fun and cathartic, it comes off as too little, too late instead.

It’s really a shame the film is so meandering, because in almost every other aspect it really shines. Every actor is giving it their all; Pitt and DiCaprio are absolutely fantastic, Robbie brings charm even to her filler role, and every single bit part actor is fully committed and leaves a mark. Standouts include Dakota Fanning as the de facto head honcho of the Family when Manson is out and Mike Moh as Bruce Lee in a scene that is at once deeply disrespectful to one of history’s greatest action stars and also very funny. This is a film you can tell everyone involved gave a shit about.

But for me, it’s not enough for me to really love the film. I like a lot about the movie for sure, but I just hate how nothing ever really comes together in a satisfying way. Maybe if a bit of the fat was trimmed I would have a higher opinion of the movie, but as it is three hours of vignettes (even well-acted ones) is truly excessive. It’s mid at worst, but for Tarantino that’s still pretty shocking when everything else he’s done is above average at worst.

9. Death Proof

This is a truly underrated film, but frankly, it’s easy to see why it is that way. This half of the double feature that was Grindhouse is a throwback to films that were actually two movies spliced together, and it has all the issues that entails. The first half of the film is a more grounded, dialogue-heavy buildup to a terrifying conclusion, while the second half is a wild and crazy action and stunt showcase, and the two halves feel at odds with each other…which is by design, but still.

This might be a hot take, but I find the slow burning first half to be the superior part of the film. As much as I love Tarantino’s insane action films, Kurt Russell’s portrayal of the sinister Stuntman Mike is just just utterly gripping; he is easily one of the best villains in Tarantino’s filmography. The whole first half establishes him really well, building up the anxiety until he finally gets to show the girl he leaves with just how well he death proofed his car. He’s just so damn cool.

And then comes the second half where he’s reduced to a bit of a chump. And this probably wouldn’t be nearly as bad if the protagonists up against him were compelling, but they’re not. They’re a bunch of girls who are boring at best and relentlessly unpleasant at worst; the fact they leave behind one of their friends to an uncertain (but likely unpleasant) fate at the hands of a creepy redneck is especially appalling. Beatrix Kiddo they ain’t.

This is a wildly uneven film, so I can see why it didn’t find its audience right away, but I think these days it had garnered a minor cult following. If you can handle the flawed second half, this is still a really good movie with a captivating villain performance that more than makes up for its shortcomings, but I definitely can’t justify putting it any higher on this list.

8. Inglourious Basterds

Oh, this might be a controversial one. This movie is the same sort of beast as OUATIH, which is why I have it so low, but with one crucial difference: It does everything better. Yes, this movie is long and a bit meandering, but it always feels like it’s moving towards a final goal. Yes, it ends with a history-altering plot twist, but this one might be the most cathartic one of all time. And yes, there’s gratuitous feet shots, but at least they’re in plot-relevant scenes.

Of course, the best thing about the movie is the villain, Hans Landa. Christoph Waltz’s big American breakout is one of the most compelling villains of the 2010s, a charismatic, cunning, self-serving Nazi bastard who you really want to see get what’s coming to him. I might be inclined to call him the best Tarantino villain of all time.

I think what weirdly brings the film down is the titular Basterds themselves, and not because they ultimately feel superfluous to the plot; it’s the same sort of thing as Raiders of the Lost Ark, them being absent wouldn’t have changed much but we also wouldn’t have much of an exciting adventure. My issue is that Brad Pitt aside they are just not interesting or compelling at all. You really need to work hard to sell attempted filmmaker Eli Roth as the ultimate Jewish badass, and the film doesn’t really deliver. If only Adam Sandler took the role as was the original vision; we really were robbed. It’s all the worse because it cuts away from the actual compelling plot with Shosanna for these schmucks.

To be clear, I don’t think this is a bad film by any stretch of the imagination, but I find it falls short of the hype around it. I’ve seen it described as movie with a lot of great scenes that never really comes together to be a great movie, and I mostly agree with that assessment; there’s so much to love here, but also so much I don’t care about. It’s definitely worth watching but it’s also where you can see the seeds for the problems with OUATIH planted.

7. The Hateful Eight

This isn’t a Tarantino film held in a particularly high regard; it’s not exactly hated, but it’s not what anyone would call their favorite either. Its contentious nature boils down to something apparent right in the title: Every character in this movie is a fucking asshole. It can be genuinely hard to get invested in these people when they’re a big collection of liars, killers, sadists, criminals, racists, and rapists.

Now, if you can stomach these nasty characters, what you’re left with is “John Carpenter’s The Thing… but a Western!” And I have to admit as a huge fan of The Thing, this is a very solid reimagining of the concept in a grounded setting. I do wish there was any character to root for here, but watching a group of people slowly tearing each other apart in a claustrophobic, isolated setting is still fun to watch. I don’t think it’s nearly as good or insightful as Carpenter’s movie, but very few movies are.

This is definitely a movie I can see people hating more than the previous two films, but I feel like this movie is more consistent than Basterds or Death Proof. Those movies have higher highs, but this movie never hits the lows they do, and even if his character is a massive asshole Samuel L. Jackson is always great to see in a Tarantino flick. Plus that brief appearance from Channing Tatum is great, especially with how it ends. This is a very solid film, but “very solid” is about as high as the praise I’ll give it will get.

6. Reservoir Dogs

Tarantino’s directorial debut, and boy is that readily apparent. It does a good job at establishing hallmarks of his style, like the sorts of conversations his characters have, their love of racial slurs, non-linear storytelling, and his trend of casting himself as a douchey minor character. It does everything fairly well, and I’d go as far as to call it one of the best directorial debuts ever… and that’s about it, really.

Like this is a very good film with strong performances—Michael Madsen and Steve Buscemi being the standouts—but it definitely feels less refined than his later works with the same style. His sophomore film just completely blows this one out of the water, to the point it’s hard to muster up the interest to revisit this as opposed to watching Pulp Fiction for the hundredth time. It’s not that this film is bad; it’s just that Tarantino’s later films do what this one does better.

It’s definitely a good film, maybe even great, but there’s clear room to improve. Hell, there wasn’t a single shot of a woman’s feet in the whole movie! Tarantino was slacking.

5. Kill Bill: Vol. 2

Now we’re in to the really great movies. And yes, while it doesn’t keep up the energy of the first film, I would definitely call this a great movie.

Where the first volume was driven by action, this one is more driven by talking, and thankfully the characters are saying a lot of interesting things here (the standout being Bill’s media illiteracy in regards to Superman, which reveals a lot about his character). There’s also the reveal of Beatrix Kiddo’s name as well as her backstory, and there are some standout moments like Beatrix escaping from being buried alive and the tense final conversation with Bill. Overall, the film does a fantastic job at fleshing the story out and expanding our understanding of the characters.

Like I said, though, it just doesn’t keep up the energy of the first film. Budd is great and serves as a more psychological opponent, burying Beatrix alive as a way to test if she has the resolve to finish her quest for revenge, but both Elle and Bill himself are dealt with in a rather anti-climactic manner. It says a lot that O-Ren, one of Bill’s former lackeys, put up a grander and more impressive fight than her boss did. While I do appreciate the more philosophical approach, it’s hard not to be miffed when a duology called “Kill Bill” doesn’t kill Bill in a more grandiose way befitting the character.

Obviously, I don’t think it brings the film down much, and this is still a good conclusion to the story. I just can’t help but feel it could’ve amped things up just a bit, y’know?

4. Jackie Brown

This is probably the weirdest film in Tarantino’s filmography, being an adaptation of a book that lacks a lot of his usual style and features a lot of people he didn’t work with afterwards (like Robert De Niro and Pam Grier). This has led to a lot of people praising it as one of Tarantino’s best works for being unique among his oeuvre… and also a lot of people deriding it for how different it is from his usual style.

I definitely think it’s up there with his best works, but I don’t think it’s the absolute best. It’s sort of like how I see Christopher Nolan’s Batman movies; they’re great films (well, the first two anyway) but I can’t in good conscience hold them up as the best Batman media because they ultimately lack a lot of what makes me love Batman as a character. And this film lacks a lot of what makes me love a Tarantino movie; it’s a fantastic, realistic crime drama, but that’s not really what I’m watching Tarantino for, you know?

Still, its placement on this list should tell you I still see this as a must-watch. Starring Grier alone makes it worth checking out, and it definitely showcases Tarantino has far more range as a filmmaker than you’d expect.

3. Django Unchained

Right from the opening song, you can tell this is going to be an epic movie. Tarantino truly nailed the Western on his first go around, adding his own spin to the genre and making a truly stellar film. However, it’s not without a few issues.

The main cast is fantastic. We have Christoph Waltz as a noble and heroic abolitionist, an atypical role he pulls off flawlessly; Samuel L. Jackson as a sinister house slave who is all about licking the boot that treads on him; and of course Leonardo DiCaprio as a hammy, egotistical slave owner, a stellar villain role that should have nabbed him an Oscar. Even minor roles are great, with Don Johnson appearing as a plantation owner early on and Jonah Hill of all people popping up as a proto-Klansman.

You might notice I didn’t mention Jamie Foxx as the titular Django. That’s because, unfortunately, he’s a bit of an issue with the film. It’s not Foxx’s performance; he makes Django cool and likable, and his awesome trademark Tarantino roaring rampage of revenge in the third act sells him as a truly badass character. No, the issue is the narrative seems to seriously sideline him in favor of Waltz’s character, to the point for large swaths of the film he feels a bit like a side character in his own story. I don’t find it to be a huge issue, but it can be frustrating, especially since this is a very long movie and a few scenes drag on a bit longer than necessary. You really couldn’t give the title character a bit more to do until the last half hour, Quentin?

Still, I don’t think its issues hold it back all that much. This is an incredibly fantastic film whose highs easily overshadow its frustrating lows. Frankly, if any Tarantino movie deserves a sequel, it would be this one; I think Django has a lot of interesting stories in him, and a film where he actually gets to be the central character the whole time would be great.

2. Kill Bill: Vol. 1

This right here is pretty damn close to being my absolute favorite Tarantino film. Where something like OUATIH is all of Tarantino’s flaws compounded into one film, this is all of his strengths together in one film. Fantastically violent action, stellar casting with not a single weak performance, an awesome soundtrack, tons of great homages to the works that inspired it, non-linear storytelling used effectively, and more style in a single frame than some movies have in their entire runtime.

Frankly, I don’t have a lot of issues with the movie, though I kind of don’t like how all the action is front loaded while all the character insight and dialogue gets shoved into the second part. It’s nothing that makes me think less of either film, but I think maybe sprinkling more insight into who the Bride is in this movie and putting some more action in the second part would keep the sequel from feeling a bit anti-climactic. I also wish we got more of Vernita Green, the first assassin we see dispatched onscreen and the one who gets the least characterization; with a third film increasingly unlikely at this point, meaning we won’t ever see her daughter seek her vengeance, it’s a shame we don’t get at least a little more of a look into who she is as a person like we did with Budd and especially O-Ren.

Aside from that, though? This is Tarantino at his best, and Uma Thurman’s crowning achievement as an actress, one that cements her as action royalty alongside the greats like Schwarzenegger, Stallone, and Weaver. There’s just one film Tarantino did that, objectively, is a much better film, and I’m sure as soon as you saw this ranking you knew exactly what it’d be...

1. Pulp Fiction

Of course this takes the top spot. Was there ever any doubt? This movie is everything Tarantino is about rolled into one supremely satisfying package.

The cast is nothing short of phenomenal. We have Bruce Willis in his prime, we’ve got John Travolta pulling out of a career slump, we’ve got Uma Thurman and Ving Rhames in roles that put them on the map, and we have a veritable buffet of talent in minor roles, the most memorable of which is Christopher Walken telling a child the delightful story of a pocket watch’s journey home from war. There’s not a bad performance here. But of course the real superstar is Samuel L. Jackson, who gave a career-defining performance as Jules, the baddest motherfucker around (it says so on his wallet).

The great performances wouldn’t matter much if not for the great script, though. The dialogue in this film is unreal with how good it is, with characters having very odd yet also very realistic and natural conversations. Jules and Vince discussing burgers, for instance, is one of the most memorable sequences in the film… and it’s just them driving! Some of the writing is a little contentious (did you really need to have your character say the N-word fifty times, Quentin?), but none of it is really bad.

I will say Tarantino as Jimmy is one of my few issues with the film, but also an issue I kind of like anyway. His acting is a wonky and there is genuinely no reason why he should be spouting off all these racial slurs (even in-universe, since his buddy Jules and his wife are black), but the sheer audacity of the whole thing saves it. Still, I can’t help but feel the scene hasn’t aged as gracefully as a lot of the film, and the amateur performance from Tarantino sticks out all the more because he is standing right next to two of the most talented actors ever.

Another aspect of the film I think has aged pretty poorly is the gay hillbilly rapists, but I don’t think this aspect is as cut and dry as “hey maybe the white director who has little acting training shouldn’t play the guy who says the N-word.” On the one hand, having the only queer characters in your movie being depraved rapists is not a good look, though this was par for the course for the 90s. On the other hand, the movie treats Marsellus getting raped with the same level of deadly seriousness that a woman in that position would receive in a film. That’s a pretty bold, progressive plot point, especially since men getting raped (especially male-on-male) was and still is used as a joke. And watching the movie in a day and age with tons of queer characters in media does soften the blow a bit, because these aren’t the only gay characters you’ll see in fiction anymore. I think it’s important to have discussions about these sorts of archaic portrayals of queers in film, but I don’t think this breaks the movie.

In modern times the film has gotten a reputation as a “red flag” film loved by toxic guys, and I think that’s unfair; is it the movie’s fault dudebros fail to see the movie is a refutation of crime and violence? Think about it: The only person in the film who gets an unambiguously happy ending is the one who has a spiritual awakening and abandons his criminal ways to walk the Earth. Every other major character pays in some way for their continued violent ways: Butch goes through Hell and ends up in exile, Marsellus Wallace gets raped, Mia overdoses and nearly dies, and Vince does die. Hell, there’s an entire segment where Jules and Vince are repeatedly chastised for careless violence causing a huge mess; as you may recall, Jules’ pal Jimmy was not too keen to find Phil LaMarr dead in his garage, and had some choice words to say about it. Stupid people see the blood and slurs and take it at face value, but the narrative itself tells these sorts they’re well and truly fucked because when you live by the sword, you die by the sword.

Of course, my favorite interpretation of the film is that it is espousing the belief that Beatles fans are superior to Elvis ones, as an extension of Mia’s comment in a deleted scene that you’re either an Elvis person or a Beatles person. Vince is clearly an Elvis guy, and he is presented as an unprofessional, careless buffoon who causes numerous issues and ends up dying due to his own inattentiveness; meanwhile, Jules is vaguely implied to be the proverbial “Beatles guy” (he calls the robber in the diner “Ringo”) and escapes the film unscathed. This is even funnier when you consider that one of Tarantino’s first onscreen roles was as an Elvis impersonator in Golden Girls, something that implies he might be an Elvis guy himself, which would make the film the most epic act of self-deprecation ever.

This is one of the greatest sophomore releases from a director ever, and one of the greatest films of the 90s. This film frequently finds its way to the top of “best films of all time” lists, and with good reason; it is, to this day, just that good. I think there’s a temptation to call any of his other films his magnum opus due to just how acclaimed and pervasive in pop culture this film is, but it got that way for a reason. It is a damn good crime story with all sorts of twists and turns and plenty of stuff for viewers to ruminate on and interpret as they please. Hell, I thought I liked Kill Bill more than it until I rewatched it, but boy does this just blow even that masterpiece out of the water.

If nothing else, the film is incredible for one simple reason: Tarantino managed to insert his foot fetish into the film without it feeling as needlessly gratuitous as it is in some later films! Bravo, Tarantino!

[mzannthropy]

Sam Claflin and the Ageism Comments

I've been meaning to make this post for... well, months now, the reason why I've been dragging my feet on it is that, honestly, it's such a non issue for me, but I just cannot abide how fucking stupid people can be.

So, what's up with all the "Sam Claflin looks too old on Daisy Jones and The Six", "Sam Claflin has aged" comments?

If these comments came only from incels of 4chan and Reddit, I wouldn't have thought anything of it, bc that's the type of stuff I expect from them. But, disappointingly, they came from DJATS fans.

Also just the sheer perplexity over people being surprised that a person is, gasp, ten years older than what they were ten years ago. Therefore, I have to speak up.

More under the cut.

Around the time DJATS was released, I re-listened to the audiobook, and I distinctly remember Daisy saying, upon meeting Billy for the first time, that he had lines around his eyes, even though he couldn't have been older than 29. Sam was 35 during the filming of DJATS, so yeah, he is older than his character, but I don't understand why this would be such a huge problem? Actors often play characters younger than them, but it's not just that. Maybe they couldn't find a suitable 29yo actor to play Billy, which is not an easy role. (Even Sam didn't get it on the first try, but they gave him a chance bc they knew he was good.) Also I just don't see what difference the ages of characters make in this story. They could be anything from late 20s to late 30s, even early 40s. It's a documentary about a band, not a coming of age story. I think that... it seems to me (and I could be wrong in my assessment) that for whatever reason, this fanbase is really young. (Didn't the book blow up on tiktok?) Maybe they presumed the characters would be closer to their own age, especially as gen z have this weird thing when it comes to age. I don't know. It's bizarre.

So what did Sam really look like on DJATS? Well, most of all, he lost a lot of weight. And sometimes it happens that when a person loses a lot of weight, depending on how thin they get, it might age them. I don't know how you can expect someone to get down to a size where they've left with hollow cheeks without this making them look older. In addition, Billy is a recovering alcohol/drug addict. Those things are generally not good for you.

So even if Sam did look older on DJATS--what does it matter? Is it not bringing the character to life that matters, the talent, the hard work he put in becoming Billy? Learning to play a whole musical instrument, making sure to get it right with regards to his character's struggle with addiction, by consulting the people who worked with actual rockstars who had the struggles in the 70s? Is that not what it is about?

If you only like films and shows with young people under a certain age, then watch those. There's plenty of YA out there for you to peruse.

Sam has been in the business since 2010. In that time he played such a variety of roles that a chunk of the audience don't even realise it's the same guy. He likes challenging himself, he has lost and gained weight as his roles demanded.

Sam is 37 now and he looks exactly how a normal 37yo man would look. He's just more handsome than most. He is a very down-to-earth person and doesn't hang out with the Hollywood elite. He doesn't shoot up his face with botox. And good thing he doesn't. I'd rather have him with a few lines in his face than lose that smile, his most valuable asset.

I'd like to bring attention to another feature of Sam, not something that perhaps many notice, and not something you'd immediately notice when it comes to Sam, bc he mostly keeps them in his pockets--his hands.

These are not the hands of a person that looks too old.

But hey, it's okay. You don't have to like Sam. There's plenty of young male celebs for you to fawn over. Us oldies will keep Sam, thank you very much.

(Note: yes I know women get it worse, but I made this post about Sam.)

[beautifulgiants]

Josh Hartnett Tells Julia Stiles How He Escaped the Hollywood Trap

By Julia Stiles

Photographed by Venetia Scott

Styled by Helga Burrill

August 7, 2024

A bunch of years ago, Josh Hartnett did what any former teen heartthrob burnt out by the Hollywood spotlight would do: He moved to England, started a family, and got some goats. Hartnett never stopped acting, but recently the 46-year-old has worked his way back to the kinds of big-ticket projects that made him a star in the first place, including a surprise appearance in last year’s Oppenheimer. The Hartnettaissance continues with Trap, the latest M. Night Shyamalan thriller that centers around a serial killer taking his daughter to a pop concert, only to realize it’s a setup to capture him. To mark the occasion, we reunited Hartnett with his O costar Julia Stiles, who quickly found out they had a lot of catching up to do.

———

MONDAY 7 PM JUNE 25, 2024 LONDON

JOSH HARTNETT: Hey, Julia!

JULIA STILES: Oh my god! Hello!

HARTNETT: Good to see you. It’s been a long time.

STILES: So crazy. Has it been 24 years?

HARTNETT: Something like that. Thank you for changing this from yesterday. We had something with the kids, and if you listen you can probably hear them screaming because they don’t want to go to bed, because it’s a beautiful summer day and we rarely get these over here.

STILES: The sun’s up later in the day, so they never want to go to sleep.

HARTNETT: Exactly. And you have three kids now?

STILES: I do. You have four?

HARTNETT: I have four kids.

STILES: It’s totally amazing, but all the cliches are true that you’re outnumbered and it feels mathematically impossible sometimes. Then you have four, which is mentally another realm.

HARTNETT: It feels like we’re back in the ’80s. They’re their own little tribe and we just try to maintain the edges so they don’t go too far in any direction. It’s more like herding children now, as opposed to raising them.

STILES: How old is your eldest?

HARTNETT: Eight.

STILES: And you have a baby baby?

HARTNETT: Yeah. Sorry, I’m sweating bullets—it’s actually hot in England for the first time in a long time. I thought it’d be good out here in the conservatory, but I’m going to open a door real quick.

STILES: Did you say “conservatory”?

HARTNETT: [Laughs] I’ve been living with an English girl for 13 years. I speak it fluently now.

STILES: You speak the Queen’s English.

HARTNETT: [Laughs] I’m constantly having to translate from American English.

STILES: Do you get self-conscious living in England when you use words like “awesome”? American words that mean nothing.

HARTNETT: It doesn’t bother me. I actually think I’ve become more American since being here. But I do get really self-conscious about speaking to people in America, and they think I’ve turned—

STILES: Pretentious?

HARTNETT: You know what I’m talking about.

STILES: Yeah. You don’t sound pretentious at all. It sounds like you’re living your dream. I got nostalgic thinking about, “Whoa, what was happening 20-plus years ago when we made O together?” And I sort of remember that you and I were very similar when we were making that film—and you can correct me if I’m wrong, but everybody in that cast was at a time in their career when we were starting to become more recognizable and fame was something that was entering our lives. You and I both had attention that we didn’t know how to navigate. From what I’ve read about you since then, you left L.A. When was that?

HARTNETT: Well, I never really lived in L.A. Even when we were making O, I was in Minnesota, New York, nowhere, because I was living from set to set. I drove my car down from Minnesota to shoot O and then drove back after that. But the choice to step back from the industry had more to do with just plain sanity. In the late ’90s and early 2000s, as you remember, if you were named as one of these interesting people in celebrity culture, it was then the press’s mission to tear you apart. On top of that, I felt like the celebrity culture was really vacuous. I wasn’t going to be on Cribs, you know? I wasn’t going to be doing Punk’d. I wasn’t interested in any of that. I wanted to be myself amongst people that I knew, so I was able to revert back to my family and friends in Minnesota. Also, after a certain amount of time chasing a goal, I realized that achieving these things wasn’t giving me back the satisfaction I hoped it would, so I had to find something else to fill that gap. I felt, and still feel, that community is what fills it. Achievement is great in any walk of life. It’s a reason to get up in the morning. But the thing that really holds you is your community. I felt that I was kind of rootless at that time, so I wanted to find that community.

STILES: What drew you back into performing?

HARTNETT: I never stopped acting. I was doing films that were, in my opinion, worthy, but really small. A lot of first-time filmmakers, people that inspired me. I was really enamored with Tim [Blake Nelson] when we made O. It was his second film and, as you remember, the amount that he had riding on that production heightened the atmosphere. I love working with filmmakers who have it all on the line, because their first may be their last. I was spoiled at an early age in this business, in that the first few independent films I made were successful, so I thought that would maybe always be the case, and it wasn’t. But coming back to making studio films, what happened in all transparency was that we had a couple of kids, so I wanted to establish something that was a little bit more solid. Our business is very kind to you when you’re making big hits, but it can be difficult when you’re not. I realized I had to actually make a job out of this again, as opposed to it being some sort of hobby that I was chasing for years. And I got lucky that a few directors who I knew wanted to work with me. Then it started to snowball, and I’ve been able to work within the studio system again, which is extremely lucky because it doesn’t always work out that way.

STILES: Walk me through when you thought you were going to do Trap. Was it something that you were pursuing, or did you get a phone call, like, “M. Night Shyamalan wants to work with you”?

HARTNETT: Night and I met at The Village premier in New York a hundred years ago. I knew some people who were in it, and somehow I was invited to this dinner afterward. We started talking and got along really well. So when this came up, we got on a Zoom and took a little stroll down memory lane, started talking about the character, and got along really well. He was coming out to Dublin to produce his daughter’s movie The Watchers, so I flew over and we had another discussion. Then it was the strike, so we couldn’t do anything, but because Night finances his own films, we were able to get a special dispensation and got to start shooting in late October.

STILES: Did you enjoy working on it? I mean, every question that I’m asking you, I’m like, “That’s annoying.” I saw you chuckle when I was like, “So you took a step back from Hollywood”—I’ve had people ask me that question, and I laughed too, because I’m like, “Well, no, I did keep working. It was just independent films that nobody saw.” So forgive me for all of these questions that might be annoying, but I’m catching up from 20 years of the lack of Josh Hartnett.

HARTNETT: [Laughs] Don’t worry, ask away.

STILES: I’m jumping all over the place. How did you and Tamsin [Egerton, Hartnett’s wife] meet? Because I love these stories.

HARTNETT: The most Hollywood way imaginable. We played husband and wife in the worst movie either of us have ever made. No offense to the director, it’ll remain nameless. It just got lost in post-production. We were shooting here in London and both had significant others, and both realized that wasn’t going to work because we really liked each other. So I broke up with my girlfriend, she broke up with her boyfriend, and then after we stopped filming, we started to date. But I was living in New York and she was living in London, so we went on a few vacations together. Then she came out to the States and we went on a long road trip where she met my parents and it kept going. And then she kept staying with me and I kept staying with her. We were living a lot of the time between houses together, and then she got pregnant and then we got married.

STILES: Nice.

HARTNETT: How did you meet your husband?

STILES: We met on a set. He was a camera assistant. It was a little indie movie in the snowy mountains in Canada. I was not in a relationship at the time, but the movie ended and he lived in Canada, I lived in New York, and we would go back and forth taking turns, and that went on for a while. Then we were like, somebody’s got to move in with the other person, which country are we going to live in? And it naturally progressed from there. We were engaged, I got pregnant, and then we got married.

HARTNETT: We were engaged when she got pregnant.

STILES: Do your kids come to set with you?

HARTNETT: Sometimes, but they’re in school and we’re in the middle of nowhere, so they’ve got a nice outdoorsy life. We’re not that far from London, so we’ve still got all that available to us. I try to come back more, is what I’m trying to say. So I’ll go to shoot for hopefully only two, three weeks at a time, and then I’ll come back and see them. But they came out for Trap. It’s tough with school. You don’t want them to feel like they’re missing things with their friends.

STILES: Mm-hmm. I bet you can’t answer this, but do you play a bad guy in Trap?

HARTNETT: It’s fairly well documented already, so I think I can say yeah, he’s not a good guy.

STILES: Is he a sociopath?

HARTNETT: Yes. What Night wants to do, and I really appreciate this about him, is that he’ll take any genre and try to come at it from a different angle. In this instance, he’s like, “I want to make a thriller, but one where the person we’re siding with would be the natural antagonist.” That’s the challenge of the piece.

STILES: So when you’re playing a character like that, do you approach it like he thinks he’s the good guy?

HARTNETT: Good doesn’t really enter into it. It’s about what a sociopath sees as a natural thing to do, and that’s not necessarily something that lines up with any sort of morality system writ large. In his own mind, he feels like he’s being honest, and that’s good enough.

STILES: Wow. Do you take that kind of work home with you?

HARTNETT: [Laughs] Not this one, no.

STILES: [Laughs] I don’t mean sociopathic behavior, but when you’re working on a drama or a comedy, for example, there’s a certain energy that you have to maintain all day. So energetically, do you take that home with you?

HARTNETT: By the end of this, I was drained. It was pretty dark. Even the fun stuff, because it is a funny movie, was rooted in a darker psychology. So yeah, going to that place every day does affect you. But when you have kids, you don’t have the luxury of bringing it home too much because they demand certain things and you have to let it go. I’ve had a lot of people ask me about method acting recently. And I was like, “I think it’s fiction.” I think method acting is a joke that some actor came up with.

STILES: To make them feel like they were putting in the work. I’m so glad that you said that.

HARTNETT: Yeah. To make the whole set focus on and be afraid of them so that they’re the one that really matters in the room.

STILES: But yeah, there is something about kids that keeps you moving forward. You come home and you just have to change the subject, which is healthy actually, and probably more creative.

HARTNETT: Absolutely. For anybody in any job, it’s good to be able to fully invest in the work you’re doing and then come home and have somebody pull you out of it. Otherwise, that’s not really a life.

STILES: What do you do on set with all the downtime? Do you have a hobby? I remember during O you had a really nice manual-focus camera.

HARTNETT: Yeah, it was either that or a Rolleiflex. I used to take a lot of photos, and then when everybody got an iPhone and they could do any sort of filter and make their pictures look great, I got discouraged and stopped making my own. But I’m doing it a bit now because my daughter’s really into it.

STILES: You know how much time there is in-between setups. What do you do to pass the time?

HARTNETT: On this one, I didn’t have any free time because I was in everything. And Night wanted me with him the whole time. But the other thing is, with kids, especially if I’m working in the States and they’re going to bed at lunchtime, I’m talking to them a lot on FaceTime. Having four kids and working so much has been really eye opening. I don’t recognize what I must have been going through as a younger person. The amount of time I had to do all sorts of stuff that I was interested in was insane. I don’t know why I didn’t become an architect. I could’ve had 50 degrees.

STILES: Yeah. I was asking because I could never figure out what to do on set. Like, reading would make me sleepy, so I actually stopped hiding. Instead I would hang out on set just to watch what everyone’s doing and chat.

HARTNETT: You were hiding a little bit.

STILES: I think I hid all the way through my twenties and thirties.

HARTNETT: Really?

STILES: I was deceptively shy.

HARTNETT: Yeah. I was always obsessed with the filmmaking culture; I was always kind of there. I’m a little bit less enamored by everything now.

STILES: But the microcosm that everybody creates on a film set is magical. It’s crazy how these mini civilizations form in the span of a couple months or less.

HARTNETT: It’s the circus.

STILES: Yeah. So, have you gotten into British football?

HARTNETT: A little. But I’ve decided that I can’t carpetbag a team, so I’m not like every other American I know who has a club that they care about.

STILES: Do your kids have British accents?

HARTNETT: A hundred percent. I’m a foreigner in my own home.

STILES: You’re the outlier.

HARTNETT: By a long shot. And for a long time, with three girls, I was the only guy, the only American. I’m just way outside of the norm in my family. So we got some goats to deal with that. The goats are more my vibe.

STILES: Oh my god, you have goats! Really living the dream, Josh.

HARTNETT: They’re the sweetest things ever. We got pygmy goats. But I like being the outlier. My wife doesn’t love that the neighbors all call us “the Americans.” She thinks that’s unfair since she’s from here.

STILES: And it’s not a compliment?

HARTNETT: I don’t know if it is.

STILES: Are you feeling a little more relaxed? It sounds like you get your respite and freedom and privacy with home life. When you go and do press for a movie, for instance, do you feel a bit more comfortable with the whole thing?

HARTNETT: Way more comfortable, because it doesn’t define me the way that I felt it used to. When you’re young, as you remember, in this business—

STILES: How dare you?! [Laughs]

HARTNETT: [Laughs] Sorry. But when you’re very young, it’s like you’re trying to find yourself, and the world is telling you what they think you are, and it’s discombobulating. So you’re forced to either fight against or go along with people’s perceptions of you. At this point, there’s inevitably going to be bad shit written, and you’ve just got to let it slide off your back because it’s not the important thing anymore. And you must know by the age of 40 that what matters is what you created in your life. If you don’t, then that’s a problem.

STILES: Well said. You seem like you’ve created this wonderful life for yourself and I’m so happy for you. I’m glad we had the opportunity to talk again. I can’t wait to see the movie and maybe we’ll run into each other in person at some point.

HARTNETT: Yeah. Maybe we’ll be able to work on something when you direct your next film.

STILES: If I ever get to make a second film and there’s a part for you in it, and I call you and you pass on my movie, I will come for you, Josh Hartnett.

HARTNETT: [Laughs] It better be a good role.

STILES: Okay. Challenge accepted.

Grooming: Charley Mcewan using Horace Skincare at The Only Agency. 

Set Design: Lily Purbick.

Photography Assistants: Ryan O‘Toole and Max Kindersley. 

Fashion Assistant: Nina Scott-Smith. 

Production: Daniel Delikatnyi. 

Production Assistant: Morgan Shepherd. 

Post-production: Hempstead May. 

Location: Location Partnership

[29pageshomestuckeveryday]

Homestuck, page 2,578

[S] Make her pay.

Song used: Crystamanthequins by Erik Scheele

Song commentary:

Erik Scheele:

Probably the thing I’m best-known for off of Volume 5, which is slightly ironic given how rushed it was. No kidding, I finished it up the night that Hussie was rounding up tracks to go through, and threw it in as a last-minute thing, “hey I just finished this can it go in??” deal. I mean, I’d had inspiration for it earlier, but never got around to making it until it was almost too late!

Yeah, this one definitely had inspiration. To answer a quick question you might have though, no, I didn’t know about the trolls beforehand, or what Hussie was going to do with the music. I didn’t even find out until Albatross Soup told me about it, a few weeks before it happened. Moreso, the inspiration came from a sudden image I had one night during the summer, in which Jade’s planet, at that time unknown, was highly unstable, and Noir had purposefully upset the balance in order to try and destroy her planet. So the entire first bit is her trying to save her inhabitants, while Crystalanthemums plays. The reason for having that motif, well, I’d had this very strong feeling that it should be Jade’s planet theme. So, it got used.

(The mental images of one of the kid’s planets getting broken/torn apart like I’d imagined still give me the shivers. I still love Hussie so much for creating a villain that actually did something upon gaining obscene amounts of power; rather than just retreating and launching some master plan, he actually went around and started doing shit with his powers. Not something you even really see in Hollywood villains nowadays, far as I know. The protagonists and antagonists are always very separated, no interaction between one or the other, nothing like what Noir does. At least, that was my experience at the time.)

As for the second bit, well, I’d wanted to make an “industrial, heavy action, stuff going to shit” remix of Perrybob’s Mannequin for quite some time, and it seemed to fit to transition over to that. In my head, the action was going to shift from Jade’s planet to LOHAC, where unspecific action was going to take place. I really don’t think I gave the Mannequin section enough time to develop, or really do much, but time constraints dictated I give the music over to the volume 5 collaborative -right then and there-, so it had to be cut off. Mannequin’s really great, though, you should give it a listen.

Also, as a sidenote, my like for Beck is rather shown in this piece, as is evidenced by my direct attempt to semi-recreate main beat in Replica to transition between the two sections. #MUSICSECRETSSSSSSSS

Author commentary:

[S] Make her pay is the culmination of Hivebent. It ties up what can be regarded as the few remaining loose ends in a rough and bloody collage of retributional actions, which all revolve around the brand-new star of the story, Vriska. This sounds like a joke, but it really isn't. If there's one thing we end up with at the end of Hivebent that we didn't begin with, it's the emergence of this figure as someone who's going to demand center stage from now on, and who won't take no for an answer, no matter how many times the narrative tries to point the camera at something else. This animation really couldn't do a better job of signaling this transition, since the apex of Hivebent revolves around not just one of Vriska's plot points, but two. One where she does something horrible, and another where she suffers horrible consequences for what she did.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! Sorry, I lose my shit whenever I see that wolf head. The animation picks up right where we left off, when Scratch blew off Vriska's arm and took out her eye. Have we talked about this particular disfigurement yet? It's mentioned in the Pupa Pan parallels, but also it's the same disfigurement Jack receives in the other session, as a result of some mishaps with the clown doll John prototyped. Is this a "cursed disfigurement"? Is the fact that this happened to Vriska, as sort of a punishment by Scratch, meant to indicate that future realities would be cursed with echoes of this disfigurement as well? Did Scratch give her this disfigurement deliberately because he knew of its future relevance? Is it simple foreshadowing? Is there no correlation? What are the answers, when you can't definitively tell if one event takes place before another, or the reverse is true? Are these disfigurements taking place in a way that each is circumstantially simultaneous with the other? Scratch would probably say yes. The reason I know he would is because he's basically just a slightly more obnoxious and opaque version of the author.

The animation settles into a rhythm from here on, in a way that I think is pretty self-explanatory, even in static form. So there's probably not much to say about it. I think I'm going to try a brand-new trick. It's called "hiding the author notes margin" when I don't have anything particularly worthwhile to say. Oh, you don't think that sounds like the "coolest" idea I've ever had? Well, why don't you give it a shot first, see how you feel about it. I know I'm feeling pretty great about the plan already.

[Editor's note: highly irrelevant to anything in the flash, but I'm leaving this one in anyway] The author note margin suddenly returns on page 420, just in time for me to invite you to "blaze it." It's totally fine with me if you want to rip this page out of the book and roll a dank blunt with it. I won't call the cops. What? You think returning to writing page notes just to say this was actually dumb as shit? Fine, DONT blaze it. I'll try to do better, by sharing an urban legend with you, that I made up one time. If the clock strikes 4:13, you can say "Homestuck" out loud, if you want. But if you do, you will then have exactly seven minutes to smoke some weed. If you don't manage to do this before the clock strikes 4:20, I will show up and murder you. Don't tell any of your friends this, it will end in tragedy.

If it wasn't totally clear, here's what Vriska did. She psychically controls Tavros, who's a total chump and is easy for her to control at any time, for any purpose. She makes him use his psychic powers to commune with an animal. The animal in question is Terezi's pre-hatched dragon, who is psychically linked to Terezi, who is asleep. The dragon then controls Terezi to get up, sleepwalk through the woods, and stare directly into the harsh Alternian sun until she goes blind. Pretty good revenge, Vriska. I'm impressed. Or I would be, if I wasn't the one who thought of it instead of you. Oh wait, that just makes me even more impressed with it. Good job all around, everyone. Me and my OCs make a great team.

Getting contributions from other artists for animations was still kind of a new idea at this point. But the Flashes were still made with blazing speed, so the contributing artists had to work fast too, which resulted in a looser-looking art style similar to what I was working in. Still, opening it up to other artists who could invest more time individually into certain pieces really expanded the potential for how good some of these assets could look. So eventually some really strong examples started showing up, like this one. Making productions this way really widened the range of what Homestuck was capable of looking like. That range is about as broad as it gets, stretching from "complete and utter shit" all the way to "commercially produced, mainstream animation studio-grade." That escalation finally caps off with the Act 7 animation, which, for whatever else it might be, is the ultimate synthesis of Homestuck as a wildly escalating medium in the visuals department.

The neat thing here is that, though Vriska believes she's getting revenge, the dragon is actually managing to turn this into a boon for Terezi. Terezi hinted at this earlier in a conversation with Vriska, wanting to thank her for this moment, which Vriska didn't understand and just got frustrated about. The dragon is actually making her sleepwalk in two places: in the forest, and on Prospit. The animation sort of stylistically blends these two processions, toggling and fading between Terezi's real self and dream self as they stroll along.

They open their eyes in both places. Dream Terezi sees Skaia, real Terezi gets an eyeful of burning sun. This is what causes Terezi to wake up on Prospit. She's blind in both the real and dream worlds, but now that her dragon is in tune with her mind, she's taught how to see in other ways, making most use of those lessons on Prospit. By the time she wakes up back in the woods to discover herself blind, she can already "see" well enough to find her way back home. Her blinding isn't really the maiming Vriska was going for. It's a sense-expanding, mind-awakening event that Terezi feels improves her life, and it becomes an important part of her identity. So much so that to be "healed" would trigger a crisis of identity and depression.

There are a few little sprite-based battle vignettes sprinkled into the animation. Full disclosure? Stuff like this tended to be filler. Some of these songs were LONG. But I didn't want to cut them down too often. A lot of times it was hard to find meaningful ways to fill every single stretch of a song without just dropping some reasonably cool, reasonably on-topic moments to grab the eye, or to use on a transitional basis before moving on to another stretch of the song that marked the right time to start a more relevant cinematic sequence.

The way the art contributors worked as a group usually was pretty open-ended. A little in advance of starting an animation I'd say something like, "I don't really know exactly what this Flash needs yet, but probably just a bunch of generally cool battle stuff, like sprites and backgrounds, would be useful." And they did turn out to be useful. I almost always found a way to sneak everything in there, even if it was only onscreen for a couple seconds. It's one reason why a lot of these sequences end up being so dense.

A first glimpse of the Sollux vs. Eridan drama. A lot of these brief clips imply events that readers easily could have guessed were going to play out anyway. We knew Sollux and Feferi started dating. We knew Feferi was Eridan's ex, and we knew what his attitude was like. We don't even need to make a whole thing about it. The wrong play would have been adding another scene in Hivebent where Eridan was like YOU STOLE MY GILFROND YOU SCURVVY SCALAWWAG! All we need is this brief shot, and it's like, oh, yep, there they go, that figures. Sometimes these arcs include so much shit, it seems like maybe there's no real vetting process for which scenes and conversations go in and which don't? That ain't true at all. There's a real art to determining out of all this chaos what's worth showing, which conversations are worth printing, and which ones are best left implied or omitted entirely. I can't give you the guidebook to such decisions. Ya just gotta FEEL IT.

Props to Vriska's Megaman slide across the bridge. Again, this only exists here because one of the artists randomly decided to make that pose.

Aradiabot shows up to beat Vriska's ass down. And we see she's got two portable, floating time-travel devices, like Dave has. These are implied to be akin to his turntables, but they're made from the stuff she had available on her planet. So this shot establishes that she's been making the rounds through time. Doing what, though? We'll see. But whatever she did, it seems like she's done enough of it to decide it's squared away, and she's now at liberty to focus on settling an old score.

This all gets pretty savage. Probably the worst the story's presented so far, on a graphic-violence basis. Any time Homestuck moves the line a little further along any axis, it's basically saying, "This is also something the story can be." That goes for everything from the quality of rendering to the nature of the content. This fight pushes the line on Homestuck's capacity for brutality a little further. In that regard, this animation acts as another good transitional piece, paving the way for the tone of the rest of this Act. The Nastytimes are upon us.

When Aradia said, "Hey you wanna hit the boardwalk a little later?" I don't think this is what Vriska thought she had in mind.

Cue chorus from the "why the fuck does Tavros have long sleeves" choir. Good question. This is just one of the perils of having a bunch of artists working on this stuff quickly, without much time taken to vet all the assets for consistency. Is it really too far outside the realm of possibility he's got a black hoodie stowed away somewhere in that rocket chair?

I'd like to imagine she delivered an ice-cold one-liner before vanishing. Maybe something like, "Thanks for the present."

And we see this is the story of how Vriska awakened on Prospit too. You can look at the animation as telling as two parallel tales, in two different ways. Either as two tales of revenge revolving around Vriska, one where she delivers retribution and the other where she receives it. Or as two tales of awakening, one where Terezi wakes up in response to making the best of a punishment she probably didn't deserve, and the other where Vriska wakes up in response to being jolted from slumber by a punishment she probably did deserve. This is a funny and abrupt way to end this sequence. Sort of a nice, long-awaited reunion on Prospit, after the final score has been "formally evened." It probably results in a short conversation we don't get to see that is apologetic and conciliatory in nature. Maybe one of those rare moments, pre-retcon, where they just get to be good friends for a bit, unfettered by all the baggage, bad blood, and competitive bullshit. Unfortunately, this moment doesn't last long. Vriska's real body starts slowly bleeding to death, while she tries to convince Tavros to finish her off in her quest cocoon. Her dream self starts bleeding horribly too, to match the damage to the real body, in keeping with the "time limit" a player's dream self has before they can no longer be kissed back to life. Terezi watches her start to bleed here, and I'm going to guess she finds it a bit disturbing to witness.

Another observation: Vriska's dream self is healed, arm and eye intact. Terezi's is still blind though. There are some vague and unspoken rules concerning whether serious injuries transfer over to dream selves. A decent way of viewing a dream self is just as a dream-projection of the id. A collection of certain ideas about yourself, your identity. Vriska's injuries aren't an important part of who she is, and if they were healed, she'd be glad to be done with them. Terezi's blindness is a big part of her identity. In fact, she was blinded by the very process of her awakening, which, if you ask me, is a more than logical way of understanding how the injury was imprinted on her dream self for good.

Storyboards: http://readmspa.org/storyboards/02577.swf.html

[reflections-in-a-critical-eye]

hey M, before you left your blog I wanted so much to ask you about cinema and I didn't get a chance back then but since you are back I'm glad I have an opportunity to do so and here I go.

Who and what do think played a huge role in the rise of independent filmmaking in the 70's that helped breaking boundaries within GP and against major studios whether in concept, scenario/story cinematography..etc. and do you think such movement might be accomplished in our era knowing how technology is so advanced - AI in particular- to the point it removed many aspects that define the art of cinema?

I know Tech is a double edged sword but these days I feel its negative impact more than ever and imo, the amount of remakes is a huge sign that we have reached the ending line, and I hope that going back to the roots is a possible feature that is yet to be invested in.

I feel my questions are little bit thick lol, so sorry in advance.

Hi @astutejiminie! Thanks for the question, this is something that I'd love to talk about.

In short and in hindsight as well, it's almost like it was inevitable if we look at the situation the studios were in the 1960s, but also at the socio-economic and political factors. It's all tied together.

By the mid to late 60s, it became obvious the big Hollywood studios weren't making money anymore. Television came and that affected the way the usual movie goer behaved. Since it was new, it had a success quite from the beginning. The studios were also investing a ton of money in a few select genres thinking it's the magic formula that can bring audiences back. Musicals and epics in technicolor. Most of them failed critically and also didn't make any profit. Only a few did, like The Sound of Music for example. Another aspect was that Hollywood played it safe in the 50s-60s, the Hays code was still on until 1968 which was restrictive and puritanical. And now we're getting to the bigger picture. How would a young audience in the late 60s could possibly be interested in that anymore? When they could easily buy a ticket to some European film that showed them morally ambiguous characters, sex and less conformism? There was no way Hollywood could survive if they didn't adapt. And they saw early on that some of the films obviously inspired by world cinema (especially Europe) were actually worthwile (see Bonnie and Clyde). And from that point on, filmmakers, writers, were given freedom and means of production, without the studios being completely in control of a film. The director was. And a lot of them were young people high on European and Japanese cinema and they helped bring in a new era. One that had a huge effect and still has on the way contemporary American film looks like. They owned the 70s.

And then the era of blockbuster came in and that has had a major effect as well, until today. Jaws made a lot of money. Star Wars too. The box office success was huge. The 1980s focused again on investing money, an easy plot to follow, a story that looked spectacular and so on. And still, those filmed looked better made than some current Hollywood super hero movie that is not bringing a wide variety of audiences back to the cinema.

We've been stuck with remakes, sequels and prequels and cinematic universes and countless shows on streaming platforms. A saturated market that offers nothing. We need good Hollywood movies. A diversity in genre films. What Barbie and Oppenheimer are doing this summer is great. Both are films that don't insult their audience, are mainstream but also cater to audiences coming from different backgrounds and people are excited. The tickets are sold out. But I do fear it's but one singular example and it will take another 10-15 years until something similar happens again.

For now, the situation looks bleak and the rise of AI used in the industry only makes it worse. Which is why the actors and the writers strikes are so important. They need to fight against it and gain some control. The big studios and streaming platform CEOs don't care about cinema and television. About the craft. They want to get rid of extras and replace them with a digital version. They will make more and more use of technology to write the scripts. As long as they spend less money on actual people, then that's great for them. Which is why the negotiations are so difficult. It's scary and I find it daunting that this dystopic scenario might happen in my life time.

As much as the movie and tv business is entertainment, it is also art. Simply because it involves people creating something. No AI can replicate what a person can do. Their emotions and intellect that is reflected in what they make.

Yes, going back to some formula of the 1970s sounds good but on a big scale, that's not possible because we live in such a different world. Some smaller studios are still releasing more quality works, like A24. But an entire industry is a lot more. Hollywood is the studios that make it. What's important is how those studios adapt and negotiate with the people that also keep Hollywood running and not lose its meaning. It won't disappear. But over time, people get replaced, new business ideas come in and the dream lives on. Hopefully on better terms than presently.

[calypso-finale]

Hundred Twenty Seven. Part 2

I don’t even understand why I cried, I feel so stupid that I did cry but in reality she was a friend, we was close, and it hurts to know she still has that mentality of I did wrong, and I went the wrong path, that I ruined it all. She still hates Oakley because she knows I wouldn’t want her in my life as long as he is with me, he knows what kind of person she is like and maybe he is right, I am just so sad. And seeing Saint, he caused me pain, like he really just was so horrible to me “Lee, come” Oakley held my arm and took me into a corner “you’re going to ruin your makeup” that alone made me smile, I don’t know out of everything that could have come out of his mouth he speaks on my makeup “we good here, what happened? Sit” he let my arm go “have I really ruined it?” I asked “I mean not exactly but if you keep crying you might” I think maybe it’s too late “my mom left so I was going to find you, that was it but then Saint came up to me to tell me I look good and then North got mad with him, told him to go, fine. But then we spoke, well she spoke to me, and I just felt like you know, I lost a best friend because she couldn’t just be there for me and all she wants me to do is be on my ass and leave you, she just attacked you. Told me I made the wrong decision, that I fucked up. That you aren’t good enough for me, and I just got upset, to know she hasn’t changed. I told her that whatever you don’t agree but I am happy, I am going to be a wife, she can’t accept that. She is lonely as shit too, I know she is because she has been passed around the industry, it kills her I am not in that position. She can’t stand you, so yeah. It just hurt Oakley, that is all and then everything with Saint, like to see him. To know, like everything he did came back to me, and I just hated it, everything he did. I just wasn’t ready to see him because you know, it wasn’t nice and he is another reason why I couldn’t trust other men when I tried, and mind you I grew up with him.”

I sniffled “Oakley leave it” he just got up “please don’t do this” I got up from the chair, but I was stopped by a tug on my dress from the chair, turning to check but my dress was ok from the back “Oakley!” I shouted, rushing back into the party. I don’t want him to do anything, I can just see him, and he is walking straight to the Kardashian family, Saint and his brother are both there, he is crazy. I am running in heels; this is a big deal for me for him to not hit him but it was too late he already hit Saint, it was so out of nowhere that Saint did fall back, the music and the talking instantly just stopped and Psalm swung at Oakley but he missed, oh he is mad “Oakley leave it” I managed to get to him but they fighting now, Saint was going to go to Oakley from behind as he and his brother both fought and I was just going to go but I got pushed back and my dad just punched him out of nowhere, my eyes bulged out “bro, hey. Hey, stop! Fuck, just stop” Damson broke them up “I don’t even know what happened, but I know he spoke to you. Kim, deal with your shit, I told you about this” my dad pointed “come, Oakley come. Fucking leave him” my dad wrapped his arm around  me “who allows a fucking guy that abused a girl in this place, man fuck y’all” Herb spat “Hollywood on some fucking shit, niece you good” I nodded my head “I told Ti to tell you” my dad said “it’s ok” I sobbed out, I feel like a little girl all over again in my dad’ arms, he is always there for me “make sure he comes, Herb go” my dad said to him “I didn’t need to know shit, I knew we was just fighting” my dad is funny “always count on you dad” I grinned “always baby, I just seen Oakley swinging and I was like oh we swinging too” looking up at my dad “this old man can beat a nigga up on any time, for my kids you know” my dad kicked a chair closer “sit down” as I sat down Oakley is walking over “that was some shit over there, you bringing that London shit over here” my dad laughed “yeah I know, you good yeah?” Oakley came straight to me “yeah, he get you a little didn’t he” Oakley shrugged “It’s nothing, people may forget but we don’t it’s ok” I didn’t want all this.

I have never seen Tianna so confused, she is walking towards us so confused “I went to the toilet and what happened?” she asked “Rylee?” she said in shock “my son in law made me happy that is what” my dad is so happy, like I didn’t want him to fight but my dad wanted that, he saw it “what do you mean?” she said “Saint spoke to me and I just felt off, it wasn’t nice and then I told him, then he acts like my dad and went to fight him. I just wasn’t ready to see that or even speak to North” I shrugged “I am so sorry” she apologised “I felt like if I told you about it you may not have come” I frowned “but it put me in this situation, it’s fine. It’s life, I am ok though, but he affected me more then her words anyways” Tianna hugged him “I feel so bad, I didn’t know any of this happened. I just literally redone some of my makeup and then I come out and see Kim walking by saying that family and I was confused, I am so sorry” she apologised “it’s fine. I am sorry, ruining the event” she shushed me “no I am to blame, just so sorry” she moved back from the hug but then again I cried “no, I am sorry” Tianna crouched down “just everything, the whole thing. When we had sex, everything that all came back to me. He wasn’t nice, and he proved what I was scared of. A crazy man like that” Ti held my hand “yes I understand that men can be scary, I know too. I dealt with Taylen, it’s hard but we are happy now, you have a good guy that loves you, they are sad and bitter. I am sorry” nodding my head “Lee, you want to get your makeup redone” he is so unintentionally funny, and he doesn’t even do it on purpose, he is genuine with it “that bad?” I said to him “nah, it’s fine. But I can help” I shook my head smiling “I will help her, it’s ok” my sister said “you and my makeup” I said to him, Oakley chuckled “stops you crying init” he is so annoying.

Smiling at my dad as I made my way back to the gang “my first born is smiling, that makes me happy you good now?” my dad hugged me “yes I am, I am ok. I just didn’t want the drama either” I laughed out “stop it dad” he is squeezing me so tight “I love my eldest so much, I just want you happy. Also Oakley did me happy, we had weed together” my dad moved back “oh god” Oakley is dancing so I know he is high “well it’s made him loosen up a little more but yeah, I think really. Damson is the positive he needed, like he has been so happy to be here and he’s never happy to come, he dislikes LA and being here, he wants to be home, but I think he’s ok now” my dad smirked “you and mom doing a house swap” I scoffed “you know mom and you can stay away from my forever home, don’t you dare put that thought in her mind. I do not want to do that, no thanks. Why do you want to come to London anyways?” I frowned “good vibes really, she just feels the same as you really, I think she fell in love with your home and the whole area it’s placed in. I have never been to that area and it’s nice, and the fact your home is just so hidden, it’s like a hidden gem. You know like it’s been a battle to make him do things, I think the battle is over for you really, like yeah you have the odd times, but he isn’t the same guy I met, and I know him well enough, he a different man so congratulations” I giggled “is it subtle?” my dad nodded his head “you tweaked him” we both laughed “tweaked him, stop it” he is silly at times.

Eating cereal at the breakfast bar at my house at five in the morning isn’t the ending I assumed, I thought I would be maybe getting dicked down but really everyone is asleep, and I am awake, like I assumed we would be coming in from the party half assed but really it was the opposite, maybe we are getting old or maybe what happened threw us all off but whatever happened wasn’t the ending I thought, I just couldn’t sleep really. I thought some cereal and some home comfort will put me to sleep, I am sad. I am somewhat still thinking about seeing Saint, like he really did that to me and it’s upset me really, I didn’t need to see him but I shouldn’t be upset because look at where I am now, the point I am at “the bedroom was a little quiet, didn’t hear you” looking up from the cereal bowl “oh” Oakley is awake “so you do actually miss me in bed? This further proves my point” I grinned “I suppose, why are you here?” he pointed, he is half asleep “I am coming back up, just hungry and thinking” he sat down across from me squinting his eyes from the lights that are on “about?” I shrugged “things, how about we go back to sleep. I was just hungry” I lied; I didn’t want to really tell the truth so he can be mad at the situation “eat it first” he grumbled “you want me back in bed?” he nodded his head; he is so cute “you know I was thinking” I wonder what idea he has now “that we move in together, well I move back in” I cooed out “you ready to deal with me” he nodded his head “also your dad been saying that we need to get married” he chuckled “oh has he, come let’s go to bed” look at him wanting us to go bed “but also I enjoy your company” I snorted laughing “oh you just realised that now? I don’t know how to feel about that, you’re so stupid. Come” he is half asleep “nah for real, I want us to live together” waving him over “and what did I say? That is fine” he is still high I think “come” holding his hand.

I really hate living out of suitcases, but I don’t want to unpack it all for it to go back in, I am only here for a week at most so I don’t want to unpack, I miss my home a little really. Hearing a knock on the bedroom door, kicking the suitcase close, I can’t even be bothered at this point, I will live in Oakley clothes since he has scattered everything everywhere. Making my way to the bedroom door, he is still asleep, that sex took him out then. Opening the door “just me” my sister laughed “I didn’t want to walk in because like, I assume he is in here. Feels so weird to not just walk in though” it made me laugh “it also feels weird, but you never know, what’s up?” I asked “I just wanted to know if you’re ok, after everything and really explain myself I feel bad” letting out an oh, looking over at Oakley, he is asleep still really and won’t wake up “come in, he is asleep and fully covered, I am trying to find an outfit so come” waving her in “don’t worry, you won’t see anything” I laughed, she is so unsure of coming in “this feel so adult like, I miss those moments to just walk in. Awww is he even alive?” she asked “he doesn’t snore, I think I do you know. I am not sure, but he doesn’t. He is so quiet, I have to check if he is alive” Ti laughed out “oh you want to have a beach day, we are going well I also wanted to ask if we can take Aziel” I cooed out “that is cute, who is we?” turning to her “me, Damson. Our little siblings, and Aziel. While he is here, it’s actually Damson idea, what you think?” that is cute “yeah why not, not like London has that so yeah we will come, it’s been a while since I have been in a bikini you know” she has a point “come to think of it, do I have a one packed” my sister rolled her eyes “just borrow mine” I wanted her to say that.

“But yeah I am so sorry about yesterday Rylee, I knew she was coming and him, but I just didn’t think things would come to blow. My own selfish way I wanted you to come, it’s a big moment in my acting career and I wanted you there, but I should have said” nodding my head slowly “it’s fine, just seeing Saint bought back memories I didn’t want to remember so like yeah, and then with North, yeah I cried. Because I know how close we were and to see and hear her be the same, it hurt because really, if she came at me with sense. I would love that, but it was just so bittersweet. But like thinking about it, I got you so why do I care about her. North would come between us too, but I am so happy you and I are at this point in life, minus Lillian, somewhat Halle but that is on edge of being dead because of the whole thing. You really are my best friend” Tianna smiled at me “you’re my only friend Rylee, I mean yeah like you said we have peers but this” I chuckled “shit” looking at the door “hey, don’t worry Oakley. I didn’t see anything” Tianna laughed which made me laugh “I ain’t know, Lee I need boxers” rolling my eyes “ok, I will get then. You need it now?” I asked “I will have a shower” I grinned “ok, I will have it done by then. Ti will be gone by then; I don’t think she wants to see something unseasoned” I spat “that is rude” I sniggered “he’s woke up moody now” rolling my eyes “men are weird” she is right they are.

My mom is always plotting, the fact she got some paparazzi person to photograph us but he is out of the way, we can’t really see him on the beach but we are made of aware of his presence “who would have thought we would have found men that like each other” Tianna said as she sat down at the side of me “Emi, you can’t play with the boys, they are too rough. My son wants to drown you, come sit down” Tianna had to go and get her “poor girl” Tianna laugh “they mean” she said “I know, stay here. Aziel is rude but yeah, it’s cute. And with our brothers too, they play too rough though, I was concerned for her” Emi stood up “where you going?” I asked “drink” the boys are just a mess, they forget about Emi “you think it’s love with you and Damson?” I asked her straight up “I don’t want to say that too quickly but there is a lot of care there” I cooed out “that is cute really, then it will progress. He seems so content, like he was made for the family. I am shocked you’re not pregnant with the way you are both at it” Tianna yelped out “no we made a decision, and we said give it time. Move in together in LA and just take it slow, and I want that but yeah. I want to make him a dad so bad, he is so good with Aziel, seeing him with him my ovaries” I want her too really “do it, make him a dad, like Aziel is going to be six, he can’t be the only one” Ti side eyed me “maybe Imani” I gagged “I want Juke out so bad!” that can never happen.

[yetanothercatastrophe]

reader insert nr. 3

pairing: olli x reader cw: i don’t know what to tell you, reader is not really mentally stable in this one and olli is just...a dick. (also note: don’t text your ex when you’re unhappy, please and thank you.) anyway, enjoy :) At this point you have typed and deleted your text what feels like a thousand times. Rationally speaking, this is a terrible idea and you already know that your best friends are going to be mad at you for even considering messaging Olli. The two of you had broken up about three months ago and barely spoken a word ever since. Before this relationship you had been optimistic, saying things like “Just because you’re not in love anymore, doesn’t mean you have to hate the person, you still had a great time together”, but it seems like Olli’s main mission had been to convince you of the opposite. The breakup had been dramatic enough for you to question on a regular basis whether you are stuck in some bad Hollywood movie. To be fair, the fact that you two would break up eventually had been predictable, none of your friends had been particularly surprised about it and you had gotten over it a lot quicker than you expected. Or so you thought. If you are really over it, why are you currently typing a “Hey, you free tonight?” text? Truth is, the breakup hadn’t been the only thing lately that didn’t go ideal in your life. College was stressing you out, your work had cut your hours in half, leaving you to pay your rent that you could barely afford to begin with and your family decided it was a great time to ask you about plans for your future that you didn’t have. You are not one to break easily because of a little pressure here and there but at the moment everything was too much. The logical reaction would be to call your friends but you can’t help but feel like you are ruining the great time everybody else seems to be having at the moment. You know it’s not true, yet you can’t bring yourself to ask one of them for comfort. Instead, you find yourself in your ex’s messages. You know exactly how this is going to go and you already hate yourself for initiating it but right now all you want is to feel like someone likes or needs you, even if it’s just for sex. You press the button to finally send the message and instantly wish you could turn your phone off and just throw it in the sea. Olli is quicker to reply than you thought. “Why? Want me to come over? ;)” You can imagine what is face looks like right now and it makes you sick to your stomach. You do your best to ignore the feeling and text him back before your brain can process the terrible mistake you’re making right now. “If you want.” “See you in 20” You sigh. So this is really happening. You get up to go to the bathroom. The look in the mirror fills you with shame already. You’re wearing sweatpants and a tanktop, the set of underwear you randomly chose today is one that Olli had bought for you. For a second you consider changing, after all you don’t want him to think you have picked this out for him specifically, but you decide that he’s not worth that kind of effort and you just pray that he won’t point it out. You apply some makeup and brush your hair, trying your hardest to make it look effortless. At some point you snort at yourself. This is ridiculous, what are you even doing? The doorbell interrupts your thoughts. Your heartbeat increases drastically but you try to take a couple of deep breaths and act like you’re oh so chill about this. Once the door is open you look into a face you know well. Very well. Olli is looking at you with a slight smile that almost seems soft, his face slightly flushed from the cold and in his hair you can see a couple of snowflakes. “Oh wow, I didn’t realize it was snowing, come in”, you offer because you have no idea what else to say. “Hello to you too, angel.” The nickname sends chills down your spine and you don’t know if that’s good or bad. You don’t need to tell Olli where to put his coat or shoes, he has been at your place enough times to know all that and apparently he also doesn’t want to wait for any further invite from you. “So, couch first or straight to the bedroom?” In a way, you’re thankful for him being this direct. At least you don’t have to make a forced conversation with him, at least you don’t have to pretend your life has been going well since you two broke up. “Bedroom”, you mumble and Olli smirks. “No need to be shy, I know what you want anyway.” Once you close the door to your bedroom behind you, not because anyone else would be in your apartment but because it’s simply a habit of yours, Olli is taking a step towards you, putting one of his hands on the door next to your head. “Sooo, I’m assuming someone missed me.” The way he looks right into your eyes is intense and you hate it but you’re not giving in to his teasing and his sneaky comments. Not yet. “Not you. Your dick at best.” Your response makes him laugh and for a second he looks away from your face. “Still haven’t fixed your attitude, hm? What shall we do about that?” Finally he’s leaning in to kiss you, as long as his mouth is busy, his sneaky comments are on pause. The kiss is hot from the first second. You’re wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him closer and making your bodies touch. As much as you hate him, you just need physical touch right now. Your lips are moving in sync like it hadn’t been three months since your last kiss and Olli’s hands roaming over your body still feel familiar. For a second you forget that it’s your ex touching you and the feeling becomes soothing. His hand wanders under your top and you are breaking the kiss so he can take it off. He starts smirking again at the sight of your bra. “Whoever got you that has fantastic taste.” Internally you start screaming. Why did he feel like it was necessary to point this out? You roll your eyes and decide to stick to faking confidence for as long as possible. “Can you finally shut up and take your shirt off?” “At your service, baby.” He does as asked and the sight of Olli shirtless makes you sigh quietly. You hate to admit it but the man is gorgeous and you actively have to stop yourself from just straight up staring at his chest. Olli is already fumbling at his belt, apparently his interest in waiting any further is just as big as yours, but you grab his wrist to stop him and shake your head. “Let me”, you say as you sink to your knees. One of his hands immediately starts stroking your hair and he’s looking down at you with an expression of success. “You can be a good girl after all.” His comments makes your stomach turn once more, both in pleasure and in hate. You don’t want to enjoy this, you’re supposed to hate him and you do but something about him has you addicted. Instead of replying, you weakly smile at him and work his jeans open as quickly as you can. When you pull his pants and boxers down, he is already hard. The hand on your head carefully pushes you towards his cock and you are eager to take him in. Not because you enjoy it but because you desperately need to hear that you’re doing a good job. Just with this one thing. “Fuck, you feel amazing”, he breathes out and you relax as much as possible to take him in even further. You expect him to fuck your throat sooner or later anyway, he was never one to be exactly gentle. Your expectations become true just a second later. Olli pushes your head down onto his dick and you have to blink a few tears away before looking back up at him. His smile has finally become less cheeky and you can tell he’s enjoying your actions. “God, I’m glad you called me, not one girl has blown me like this since we broke up.” Fuck. You want to enjoy the praise but your heart can’t help but focus on the fact he has been with other women after your breakup. He is allowed to, obviously it is, it still hurts. Now your eyes are forming more tears, you can’t tell whether it’s because of his stupid comment or because of his dick repeatedly hitting the back of your throat. You just hope he keeps his mouth shut. Fortunately, he pulls you off by your hair before you actually start crying. “I’m not coming like this, I want to be inside you. Ride me baby, will you?”, he asks you and it makes you somewhat upset that this is the most polite thing he has said all night. You nod and get up. Before the two of you get on the bed, he pulls you into another kiss, his hand on your cheek. You get lost in the innocently intimate touch for a second, enjoying how familiar it is.Olli breaks the kiss and as you open your eyes you see him looking directly at you. His thumb carefully wipes away some of the mascara that’s smeared on your face. “You are so fucking hot like this, do you know that? So eager to make me cum, such a good girl. You’re so likable as long as you don’t talk.” Of course he couldn’t just compliment you without adding some stupid remark. As much as you would love to respond and just tell him that he doesn’t need to be a fucking jerk all the time, you knew what you were in for, him acting like this was more than predictable, and you cared way more about pleasing him than about putting him im his place. Olli takes your hand and pulls you towards the bed where he sits down and gets comfortable, the cheeky smile you hate so much back on his face. “Come on baby, strip for me.” You comply, taking your sweatpants off, trying to enjoy the way he is watching you. He hums approvingly, so you get out of your panties as well, though as you’re reaching for your bra clasp, he stops you. “Leave that one on. I like it. Almost like I picked it out.” Why hadn’t he just told you to fuck off when you asked him to come over? Why did he feel it was necessary to constantly remind you of the fact you used to date? Moreso, of the fact you are not dating anymore. For the first time tonight, you are unable to hide the uneasy feeling from Olli. “Oh come on, don’t make that face. I’m just joking around. How about you come here princess?” Slowly you walk towards the bed, getting on top of Olli. His hands land on your hips immediately, guiding you where he wants you. You put your hands on his shoulders and slowly start bouncing on his dick. Almost immediately he throws his head back in pleasure and you feel his breath getting heavier. You on the other hand don’t feel much of the satisfaction he seems to be getting. The feeling you’re currently experiencing can be best described as discomfort, your lack of arousal makes his cock inside of you feel almost too big and there’s still that voice in your head, constantly reminding you of how much you’re supposed to hate that guy. Yet, even though he has acted like a total idiot the entire night, something about him quietly breathing out “keep going” and “good girl” makes you eager to give him a good time. You speed up your movements and lean forward a little until you’re close enough to leave kisses on his jaw and neck. Carefully you press your lips to all the spots you know he loves and it’s working, you can tell as he starts groaning. His hands now roam over your body, from your hips to your thighs and your ass, it’s like they refuse to really settle anywhere. It feels good to have him touch you yet you can’t bring yourself to actually chase after an orgasm. Once again, Olli seemingly refuses to miss out on a single thought of yours so he lets one of his hands wander between your bodies, a finger landing on your clit. “You don’t seem like you enjoy yourself too much, let’s change that, shall we?” His breath is hot on your ear and you can’t help but whine. His finger is touching the exact right spot and it does feel good but also it’s somehow way too much. You don’t want him to focus on you coming, you want him to praise you. “Please-”, you whimper, the rest of your of plead getting stuck in your throat. Olli hums, he always enjoyed you begging him for things. “Please what?” You swallow hard. You feel pathetic, somehow small in his hands, like you’re about to break. And you hate asking him for things. you’re scared he will make fun of you. “Please say-tell me I’m doing good for you.” You can hear him giggling for a second and internally you’re already preparing yourself for being humiliated once more. To your surprise though, he complies. “Hmm, you feel so good angel. Doing such a good job at getting me off, always so eager to be my play thing, aren’t you?” You whimper again, nodding, with your lips still only centimeters away from Olli’s neck. You dig your fingers into his arm, desperately clinging onto him. Suddenly, his voice is getting even deeper, you can tell he’s close. “How about you stay good and cum for me, can you do that, precious?” Something about nickname flips the right switches inside of you and only seconds after, the orgasm you weren’t even looking for washes over you. It still is more uncomfortable than pleasing, however it gives you exactly what you wanted. More praise from Olli. “Fuck that’s right, just like that.” You feel sore, but you need to hear him come, so you keep moving your hips and fortunately it doesn’t take long until he holds you down by your hips and spills inside of you with a low moan. You both take a second to catch your breath, neither of you saying a word. You wouldn’t know what to say after all. Now that it’s over, you know he’s going to leave and something about that makes you want to cry. You are painfully aware that hooking up with someone who has no good intentions at all is a terrible coping mechanism but the compliments and praises did feel good, even when they didn’t last long. Despite your feelings, you are aware that you can’t sit on his lap forever, so you lift yourself off him, holding back another whine when his cock slips out of you. Olli seems to take this as a sign to immediately get up and and get dressed, not even bothering to tell you again that he liked it or something. When his jeans are already back on and he’s grabbing his shirt, you decide to ask him something. “Could you…could you stay? Please?” He looks at you, raising an eyebrow. “Why? You want to cuddle?” You can hear the mockery in his voice already. You simply shrug your shoulders, not wanting to explain your need for comfort to him. Olli sighs. “Listen, I don’t know what the fuck is up with you, I know what you’re like during sex usually and it isn’t like this but I don’t care, okay? If you need someone to fuck you, hit me up anytime just keep your emotional bullshit away from me, please.” It’s the last thing he says before opening the door and walking out. You can hear him putting on his shoes and coat in the hallway and then there’s just the lock of your front door clicking shut. He’s gone. And you’re just left in shame as your eyes fill with tears.

[nsfwhiphop]

Incoming Text for Amanda Peet (@realamandapeet) :

"The Real-Life Scenario of the Disaster Film 2012: Prepare Accordingly, You Should Prepare for This"

Hey Amanda!

My name is Angelo.

I just want to start by saying that I've been a fan since that 2004 movie with Bruce Willis and Chandler Bing. I don't remember the name of the movie, but I know it has the word 'Yards' in it.

I've been a fan of your work, but I was disappointed that you never did any good movies after the 2010 era. All your fun movies are in the early 2000s. After that, I don't know what happened to you, but you kind of disappeared and left us fans in the cold. I'm just sayin' you are like Lauryn Hill because she disappeared from the music business just like you did with the film industry, and the fans were so sad.

I loved your character in that Bruce Willis film. It was so fun. And that other character with Ashton Kutcher was fun as well. I'm a cinephile, so you know I watched all sorts of movies, and your two films with Ashton and Bruce were the most memorable and fun characters. It's too bad you never did anything memorable after these two movies. It made me sad as a fan of your work.

I was like: "Where is Amanda? Why are there no more comedies with Amanda? I hate Hollywood for not giving Amanda more opportunities."

Your Jill character is unforgettable. She is like a hilarious version of Bonnie. If Bonnie was a comedian, she would be like your character Jill.

I never forgot the lines of Jill. She says: "Just say you're not in love with her anymore. You can't say it, can you?" And another Jill line is: "You shut up, or I'll blow your brains out." (She was kind of mad that the other female contract killer was making fun of her.)

Those are some of my most memorable lines of Jill.

As you can guess, my dear Amanda, I've been crushing hard on you since the early 2000s, but I never made a move because it is a doomed relationship, so I just kept quiet and moved on with my life. I respect your family life. I know you're married, and I have good manners. I never bother a married woman.

That's why I never wrote a letter to you before. This is the very first time I am writing to you. I usually ignore you like you don't even exist on this earth because I respect your privacy. So, forgive me if I ignored you. I know you are lowkey mad at me for not revealing this alien to you before today.

Amanda Peet be like: "Why would you not tell me about this Angelo-the-alien before? I mean, I deserve to know about this. It's like the most amazing news, and I'm angry at you for not sharing this good news with me."

Angelo says: "I never called Amanda because I'm in love with her. I avoided her. I want to make sure that I erase her memory so she never remembers me. Do you understand the concept of the neuralizer in the movie Men In Black with Tommy Lee Jones?"

I ignored you because that's how I erase your memory. You can join the Jewish girls team with @natalieportman and @gal_gadot. They will help you remember what I erased from your memory when I ignored you for all these years.

Angelo be like: "Now, calm down, Amanda! Promise you won't be mad at me for erasing your memory. Please don't be angry. Take it easy. Slowly, we will upload information into your brain like a USB stick and help you remember."

Amanda Peet says: "I promise to be calm and never get angry. You have my word. But that was so uncalled for. You could've shared this information with me earlier. I feel like I'm coming very late to a party that started many moons ago. I'm lowkey pissed off, but I will try to control myself and take it easy."

The end of the conversation.

My dear Amanda, welcome to our very secretive world.

Also, I'm very serious about preparing for disaster. Your movie 2012 with John Cusack is about to happen in real life. These two girls will update you. I encourage you to call @natalieportman and @gal_gadot. They will give you all the information you need to prepare for this coming nuclear disaster.

The world will not be the same in the next few months, and only those who prepare for this nuclear disaster will survive the blast. Tell your husband that it is very important that he converts his paper money into gold bars and diamonds because after the nuclear blast, the dollar will lose all value. @natalieportman and @gal_gadot will explain this to you.

I hope this information was helpful and useful.

Nice to meet you, Amanda Peet. It is an honor to be your virtual friend.

Your virtual friend and guardian angel,

Angelo.

P.S.:

Here is the 'Men In Black' video about erasing the memory:

Men In Black- First Neuralyzer Scene

[allthingsfangirl101]

AFS Chapter 12: Suddenly Distant. Instant Regret.

Masterlist

Joe threw his head back and downed his third scotch of the night. After he FaceTimed Evelyn and Gaten interrupted them, he didn't go hang out with the cast. He went straight to a bar to try and stop the thoughts. It didn't matter how many drinks he had. His thoughts about Evelyn just increased.

More specifically, Gaten's stupid little song about Joe and Evelyn sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-something-something.

It didn't matter the amount of alcohol Joe consumed, he couldn't stop thinking about her.

He thought about her smile.

He thought about her laugh.

He thought about her beautiful, perfect self.

He thought about her amazingness.

He thought about his patheticness.

He thought about his horrible reputation.

He thought about his horrible reputation ruining her perfect reputation.

He thought about how she was too good for him.

He then remembered that they weren't really together.

She would never be with him for real.

* * * * *

A week later, Joe started going back to his usual bars, spending the whole night downing his usual drinks. He was sitting at one of his favorite bars when his phone went off. He looked down, his entire body freezing when he saw the text.

Evelyn Hey, where are you?

Joe held his phone in his hand, his drunk mind trying to come up with a good response.

Joe What do you mean?

Evelyn We were supposed to have dinner. Did you forget?

Joe Yep. Sorry.

Evelyn Is everything okay?

Joe I'm fine.

Evelyn Are you sure?

Joe didn't bother to respond. His drunkness mixed with frustration, mixed with embarrassment, mixed with knowing he was wrong was not a good mix.

He started to drink more. And more. And more.

* * * * *

The next day, he woke up with a horrible hangover. He stayed in bed, not bothering to try and nurse it. A couple of hours later, someone banged on the front door. Groaning, Joe forced himself out of his bed. He wobbled down the hallway and angrily opened the door.

"What?"

"Geez," Andrew scoffed. "You look like hell. What happened to you?"

"Evelyn Jones," he said through a clenched jaw. He turned around, not bothering to hold the door open for his manager.

"What are you talking about?"

"Evelyn Jones," Joe ranted as he grabbed a Gatorade out of the fridge and drank half the bottle. "You made me fake-date Evelyn fucking Jones."

"Joe, that's not a bad thing. . ."

Joe threw his half-empty bottle across the kitchen. "You!" He yelled turning around and pointing a finger at him. "You made me fake-date the perfect Evelyn Jones. Hollywood's Least Favorite Screw-up is dating Hollywood's Perfect Princess and it's messing with my head."

"Joe. . ."

"You have no idea what it's been like!" Joe continued yelling. "I spend all this time with her, make her smile, make her laugh, hold her hand, focusing extremely hard on being the perfect boyfriend. And it's all fake! It's all fucking fake, Andrew! Evelyn would never be with me."

"You don't know that."

"Oh, I do! Think about it, Andrew. Evelyn is happy and perfect. I'm a depressed drunken asshole."

"No, you're not," Andrew sighed.

"Might as well embrace it."

Before Andrew could stop him, Joe stormed out.

* * * * *

Andrew tried calling Joe but every call went to voicemail. Evelyn's new movie was having an end-of-filming party and Joe was supposed to show up. He's currently over an hour late.

"Where is he?"

Andrew turned around to see Evelyn with her arms tightly wrapped around herself. "I don't know," he sighed. "I'm sorry, Evelyn. I went to his apartment this morning and he was acting weird. I think. . . I think he was drunk."

"Oh," she said under her breath.

"I'm really sorry, Evelyn. I don't know what's gotten into him lately. He was ranting about. . ."

"Chug! Chug! Chug!"

"Oh shit," he mumbled.

"Is that. . ." Evelyn started.

"Probably," Andrew said, clearing his throat.

The two walked over and found Joe surrounded by a bunch of guys as he shotgunned a beer. Andrew glanced at Evelyn to see a look on her face that could only be described as defeated.

"Joe?" She whispered.

"Evelyn!" Joe cheered drunkenly. He yelled so loud it made her jump.

"What are you doing?" Evelyn asked while subconsciously wrapping her arms around herself and tightening her arms as she looked around.

"Drinking," he laughed.

"Joe," she sighed. "What's going on? Is. . . Is everything okay?"

He looked at her, his drunk goggles briefly lifting. When they did, he saw the girl he'd developed strong feelings for looking uncomfortable and worried about him.

He couldn't do this.

He grabbed another beer and shotgunned it. He tossed it to the side and burped.

"Your turn, Evelyn."

"Absolutely not."

"Suit yourself," he chuckled as he did a third. Evelyn couldn't watch him anymore. She stormed off before he had even finished half the beer. He didn't notice she was gone until he had finished his beer.

"I guess I should probably run after her, huh?" He laughed drunkenly. He tossed the empty beer can into the nearest trash can, not bothering to pick it up when it bounced out.

"Evelyn," he drunkenly sang as he followed her out of the club. "Wait up. I don't walk fast when I'm drunk."

When he caught up to her, he grabbed her elbow and turned her around. She instantly tore her arm away from his.

"What is wrong with you?" She asked, under her breath and through her teeth.

"I'm allowed to drink at a party."

"Not this much," Evelyn said, looking him up and down. "And this isn't just a party, Joe. This is a work party. My work party."

"Last time I checked, Evelyn, you don't own me," Joe slurred angrily.

A small (sober) part of him knew he'd regret all this in the morning. But his drunk part was the one in control tonight.

* * * * *

Joe woke up with a hangover to end all hangovers. The second his eyes opened, he thought about Evelyn. He thought about how he treated her. He thought about what he said to her. He thought about what he made her feel. He thought about the look on her face before she left the party.

He slowly sat up and rubbed his face roughly. He thought about it for a second before giving in to the urge to check his phone. He couldn't help but feel disappointed when he saw that there were no missed calls, no voicemails, and no texts from Evelyn. He couldn't be too surprised after how he treated her.

Joe went through the day in a haze. He simply went through the motions, not actually paying attention to what he was doing. The second Andrew came to pick him up for filming, Joe could tell he was pissed.

They got into the Uber without a word. Halfway there, Joe had to break the silence.

"Aren't you going to yell at me?"

"Why?" Andrew said with no emotion as he continued reading through emails. "Not like it'll make any difference."

"Still," Joe mumbled. "I expected you to bite my head off the second I opened the door."

Andrew finally put his phone down and turned toward Joe. "Fine. Here it goes. What the hell is wrong with you?" He asked, oddly calm. "Evelyn is an amazing girl who has helped you a lot. Why the hell would you treat her like she meant nothing to you? Especially when we both know she means a lot to you."

They didn't talk about Evelyn or Joe's behavior the rest of the day. After work, Andrew dropped Joe off at home and Joe instantly went for his stash of alcohol. He was halfway through a bottle of scotch when there was a knock at his apartment door.

"Well well," he drunkeningly smirked. "Welcome back, Andrew. Finally decided to come and scream your head off at me?"

He stopped short when he opened the door and it wasn't Andrew.

"Evelyn," he stuttered, slightly sobering up. Not a lot. Just enough to remember this conversation.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Whoa," he chuckled. "Hollywood's Princess getting feisty."

"Cut it out with that," she snapped. "What is wrong with you, Joe?"

"What's wrong?" He challenged. "Evelyn, nothing is wrong with me. This is who I am."

"No, it isn't," she said, her voice lowering.

"Yes, it is!" Joe yelled back. "I'm Joe Keery. Drunk, asshole, Joe Keery. I don't know why you thought you could change me but. . ."

"I don't think that," Evelyn mumbled.

". . . it's not going to happen," he finished. "I am and will always be a drunk."

Silence fell between the two as they entered a staring contest. Joe was too drunk to think about the consequences. Evelyn was too hurt not to.

"I'm allowed to walk away."

"Are you wanting me to beg you not to or to challenge you to?" Joe scoffed. The silence returned as they continued to stare at each other. The longer Joe glared at her through his drunk goggles, the lower her heart sank.

She took a step back, wrapping her arms around herself. Joe noticed her change and felt guilty. Before he could start to try and fix this, Evelyn shook her head.

"I don't deserve this," she whispered.

"Evelyn. . ."

"Any of it," she roughly cut him off.

Joe's heart sank into his stomach as Evelyn walked away. He had a feeling that the further she walked away from him, the harder it would be to get her to walk back to him.

[missvelvetsstuff]

Low Expectations

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Chapter 3

Warnings: Swearing, fluff & angst

Note: this is what happened when my husband and I were first dating and Miceli's is a real restaurant in Hollywood with great food and romantic feel and wait staff who serenade you. My poor husband had to work so hard to get me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N and Bucky stayed up late on the phone for the next couple of nights after agreeing on a date Saturday night. All he would tell her was to dress nice.

"I hope you have a car, James, or access to one, because I'm not riding on a bike in a dress. I do have some standards."

Bucky laughed "Don't worry doll, I wouldn't expect a lady to ride a bike in a dress."

Saturday morning Y/N went shopping for a new dress with Terri. "I don't know Terri, I don't want something that revealing for a second date" she said looking at a tiny black dress Terri was holding up.

"Are you planning on sleeping with him? Maybe we should get some lingerie too. Do you know his favorite color?"

Y/N shrugged "It's only our second date so no. Every time I sleep with a guy too soon they ghost me. I really like him so maybe if I wait a bit he will start to fall in love with me before we have sex and not disappear. I doubt it but I don't know what else to do."

Terri shook her head "Sounds like he's already pretty into you, you should go for it.

And those guys were just creeps, I mean look at John Walker. He not only turned out to be married but he went all psycho when he was Captain America. Dude was just shit."

Y/N laughed "James has sent some mixed signals, worrying about me finding out about his past and if I would still want to be friends. And when he dropped me off He kissed me on the cheek, that's what friends do."

Then she rolled her eyes, "John fucking Walker is a creep and wasn't much in bed either. Between that and being obviously unhinged with anger issues, I feel bad for his wife. But he's not the only one. I'm pretty sure the problem is me, I-"

Terri stopped her "No, don't you start with that. The only thing wrong with you is your luck with men. And what about that enhanced senses thing? Doesn't seem like something you say to a friend.

How about this dress?" She held up a sapphire blue dress.

Y/N looked at it. "Maybe. Add it to the stack"

"We have 5 dresses, lets go try them on before we look any more."

The red dress was out of the question "Terri this is more your style, you should try it on"

The second red dress wasn't great either "It's too orangey" Y/N complained and Terri rolled her eyes.

Y/N grabbed the blue dress and put it on. Cap sleeves, sweetheart neckline, flared skirt falls just above the knee. When she looked in the mirror she smiled "I think this is it, what do you think?"

Terri gasped "Perfect. Sexy but not slutty.  The sweetheart neckline is very flattering on you. He should like the retro vibe, more like when he came up.

Do you have shoes? Are you sure you don't want to get some lingerie? Just in case."

Y/N sighed "I do need shoes and a couple of new bras, John destroyed one and then laughed when I asked him to replace it."

Terri cheered "WooHoo! Let's find something James will like." Y/N gave her a look and Terri sighed "Whenever you decide to sleep with him. You know, you can be a real buzzkill."

They found some nice bra and panty sets plus a new pair of strappy silver shoes with a kitten heel. After a late lunch they went home to get her ready. Y/N took a long, hot shower, making sure to clean, shave, condition and moisturize where needed. Terri helped with her hair and make-up, always keeping it simple.

When it was almost 7 the doorbell rang and Y/N felt her stomach drop.

Terri saw her friend looking petrified and rubbed her back "Hey, Y/N its ok. You have a date with a really nice guy, look amazing and will have a good time. Don't get stuck in your head and if he does turn out to be a creep call me and I'll come get you."

Terri answered the door to Bucky in a navy suit, holding a bouquet of pink roses. "Nice to see you again James. Y/N will be right out so have a seat. I can put those in some water for you."

Bucky looked at her nervously "Yeah, sure, thanks" and handed her the flowers but was too nervous to sit.

When Y/N walked into the living room his breath caught and his eyes grew wide. How was he supposed to take it slow when she looked like that? "Y/N, doll, you look beautiful. How did you know my favorite color?"

Y/N felt her face heat up. "Thank you, James. You look nice too. We almost match" she giggled.

Terri came out of the kitchen with the roses in a vase and set them on the coffee table "James brought these for you"

"They're beautiful James, thank you"

"Not as beautiful as you are.

Are you ready to go? We have a reservation at 8 and it's a few minutes away."

"Yeah, I'm ready" she grabbed her purse and he opened the door for her.

Terri waved good night "Have fun kids. Make sure you have her home at a reasonable hour."

Bucky and Y/N laughed at Terri "Your friend is quite the character"

"You have no idea"

On the car ride they made small talk, both being very nervous "So is this your car or did you steal it? Y/N joked

Bucky feigned offense "I would never. It's Sam's he's in Louisiana with his sister."

"Oohhh, Captain America's car. Does he keep any exciting tech in here? Is it like a fancy spy car?"

Bucky laughed "No it's just a car. All his tech is in his suit."

She pouted "Well that's no fun. He should have like a James Bond car that flies and is amphibious"

He looked at her pouty lips and licked his own, trying to distract himself with driving.

They pulled into a parking lot and Y/N recognized the sign. "Miceli's? I've heard about this place. All the wait staff are aspiring actors and will serenade guests."

"You've never been?"

She smiled sadly "Nah, since the blip we can't afford anyplace fancier than the diner. Besides this is more of a romantic place and I haven't dated anyone that realized Olive Garden isn't fine Italian cuisine."

Bucky laughed "I've never been here or Olive Garden but Sam recommended it and told me to stay away from places like Olive Garden and Red Lobster."

"That means we can sue him if it's not up to our standards, right?"

Bucky laughed as they entered the restaurant.

Once they were seated he asked her what kind of wine she preferred and ordered a bottle for them. After they ordered and some wine was poured Bucky asked her "You mentioned the blip, were you here or..."

She smiled "You can ask. That seems to be the first question we all ask since. I was blipped but was lucky that Terri hadn't moved so I came back and it was still home. I know a lot of people who reappeared in their home but new people lived there. She helped me get my job too. I'm luckier than many."

Bucky nodded, entranced "You work for the GRC, right?"

"Sort of. I work in a call center that contracts with the GRC. We help coordinate people in need with resources for housing, food, medical care and jobs. I moatly deal with medical since I worked for an insurance company before and a doctors office before that.

I don't love the job but I do love helping people."

"That's why I work with Sam. It feels good to help after everything before." He agreed.

They had chocolate chip cannolis for desert and their waiter and one of the waitresses started singing Shallow to them. Y/N blushed and Bucky just held her hand until they finished.

Bucky cleared his throat and looked her in the eyes "I brought you here becauae I wanted this to be special for you. I haven't met anyone like you and wanted, well. I uh. Would you be my girlfriend?"

Y/N looked at him in shock "Really? Me?" And saw their waiter and a couple of others watching, waiting for her answer. She smiled "Yes, I'll be your girlfriend"

Bucky grinned and leaned in to kiss her. Y/Ns mind felt like a tornado, excited and scared and anxious. Until his lips met hers and it all went out the door. It was just her and Bucky now. He deepend the kiss gently licking her bottom lip and she allowed him in. It was sweet and full of promise. She pulled away and he chased after her which made her giggle. He opened his eyes and smiled bashfully at her.

They spent the rest of the evening flirting and kissing until they ended up in front of her building and his kisses became more passionate and urgent. Bucky forced himself to pull away while he could still control himself. It didn't help that she smelled so damn good.

"I'm sorry doll, I don't want to push to fast. I'll call you tomorrow, ok?

Good night Y/N."

It took her a minute to compose herself. "Good night James."

Y/N went inside and changed into her pajamas after cleaning her face. She hung the dress up and put her shoes away. She felt like she was in a dream and came out of it as soon as she laid down in her bed. Thats when the anxiety started and she spent the next few hours over analyzing the entire evening. Every word, every action. Somehow she convinced herself that all wasn't as it seemed.

The next afternoon when Bucky called she had spent too much time in her own head. What she said to him shocked her almost as much as it shocked him

"Look James, I do like you but I think we might be moving too fast. I still want to see you but don't know if I'm ready for a committed relationship." Better to do a preemptive strike before she gets hurt again.

Buckys heart sank "But what about last night. I thought we were starting something. Is there someone else?" He should have known she wouldn't want to call the Winter Soldier her boyfriend.

She tried to reassure him "No, there isn't anyone else. It's not you at all, I just need some time. Please don't give up on me."

Bucky sighed sadly "It's ok. I get it. I have some things to do. I'll talk to you later. Bye Y/N" and hung up.

Y/N sat and stared at her phone, beating herself up. She finally meets a nice guy who likes her and she's too scared to give him a chance. She threw herself into housework and hoped that she didn't blow it.

Chapter 4

[delfiore]

we’ll be a fine line

pairing: florence pugh x reader

synopsis: the last couple of months before your relationship with florence is truly over.

a/n: have i written way too many flo fics? yes. will i stop? no, no i don’t think so.

word count: 2.2k

now playing:

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

In the five years that you have been with Florence, you had come to know her too well. That was why when she sat you down and told you that she wanted to break up, you weren’t shocked by any means.

“We’ve been spending too much time away from each other that it barely feels like a relationship anymore.” She said in a quiet voice. “We’re just roommates now, and I just don’t feel the way I should feel, the way I do in the beginning anymore.”

You were there at the beginning. You were there to watch her climb the ladder of Hollywood elite. Every casting call, every shoot, every interview, you would be behind the scenes to reassure her, to be her biggest fan. Even when no one believed in her, you did.

The beginning was magical. You were just two callow fools in love against the world. You felt the weight of it of late, the way its gravity has been trying to pull you apart, piece by piece, until all that was left were the hollow shells of your past selves. And how do you love when you’ve barely got anything left to give anymore?

“If that’s how you feel,” you averted your eyes, “then I have no right to chain you down.”

“You’re not even going to fight for us?” Flo whispered, her voice cracking.

“I want to. You know I want to.” And so did yours. “But you also know that it’ll come to nothing in the end.”

You watched as her shoulders and head dropped, squeezing her eyes shut to swallow tears.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Flo. Hey, look at me. You deserve to be happy, and I will always do anything to make you so.”

As she launched herself into your arms, you drew deep breaths to stop yourself from crying. You needed to be strong for her.

“You know I’ll always love you.” She mumbled in your neck. “Always.”

You smiled and rubbed her back. “I know. I love you too.”

Flo had been looking for a temporary apartment to stay in until she could find a permanent home to move into, and you have been helping her. You have decided to remain good friends, as you two bore no hard feelings towards each other.

Once she had found one, the process of packing her things and bringing them to her new home began, and you helped her with that too. Slowly, your once-filling home began to vacate, half of its things packed in neat boxes, the spot they once claimed for years suddenly too empty. You stood in the hallway staring at the blank wall where Flo’s arts once hung, the ones she had been so excited about hanging up while you were renovating the house together, and pretended the emptiness didn’t rip at your heart.

Flo never told you, but she heard you cry in your room that first night. When she got up to use the bathroom in the middle of the night (she wasn’t used to using the guest bathroom where she stayed and went to the main bedroom instead), she heard your broken sobs, the way they trip over themselves as you tried to calm yourself down but failed. She was grateful to you for being so supportive; it reminded her that she needed to have you in her life if it was only as a best friend.

While she was going through miscellaneous things that sat under the coffee table, Flo came across a stack of film photos that you had taken over the years, each of them a flash of memories that she could recall exactly as they happened. There was one of her and Billie covered in mud with her cracking the biggest smile and the dog licked her face, and another of her making a funny face before the Disneyland castle. There was even one of her, naked, in a hotel room in Florence.

“Stop it.” She trailed her words before bursting into a fit of giggles, trying to avert your incessant tapping of her nose.

You followed her giggles, and propped your head on your hand, looking down at her.

“I’m so lucky.” You whispered to yourself, but Flo heard you. She smiled wide as you leaned down and captured her lips in a searing kiss, your hand tracing her neck down to her naked torso.

“I wanna marry you one day.” You mumbled into her lips. “Let’s come back and get married right here in Florence. It’ll be Florence’s wedding in Florence!”

She laughed at your childlike enthusiasm and wrapped her arms around your neck. “And you’ll become Mrs. Pugh then, yeah?”

“Eh,” You scrunched your nose, “I was thinking you’d be Mrs. Y/L/N.”

“Let’s hyphenate our last names.”

“Deal.” You smiled.

Just as Flo was pulling you down for another kiss, you sprung out of bed and walked towards the vanity table at the other end of the room.

“I wanna capture this.” You grabbed your camera and brought it to your eye. “To show our kids later on.”

“I just agreed to get married and you’re already thinking about kids?” Flo laughed.

“Yeah, two. And another pup for Billie to play with.”

“Alright, fine.”

Click.

Flo let out a quiet laugh, as she wiped the tears that have been trickling down her cheeks. She heard footsteps and the couch dipping beside her, but you didn’t say a word. Instead, you only placed a loving arm around her shoulder and rubbed it slightly.

“You can have these if you want.” You offered quietly.

“But you took these. I don’t want to take them all from you.” She put the pictures back into the stack.

“You can have the ones of you.”

“That’s most of them.”

“True.” You laughed quietly. “Still, I want you to have them, only if you want to, of course.”

She sniffled and nodded.

Flo had noticed the way you became quieter, your stance less comfortable the way she remembered it, but your smile, though weaker, was still warm and made her feel at ease. Sometimes she wondered if she had made a mistake.

Time was moving faster than you could keep up with. Most of her stuff was in the new apartment, only a manageable chunk she left to transport with her last U-Haul ride over there.

“Maybe I’ll get that grand piano now.” You joked. “To fill up some of the space.”

She looked away when she thought she saw a hint of sadness in your eyes despite your smile.

The day before she moved out, it was raining cats and dogs. You and she proceeded as you always have; stay indoors and have a cozy, rainy day in. When dinner time rolled around, you offered to cook.

“You’ve always been the one to cook me these fancy meals.” You said with a small laugh, bending down to take out a skillet from the cupboard.

“Did it take us breaking up for you to finally cook for me?”

She knew as soon as she said it that it was stupid to say. You avoided her eyes and smiled sheepishly.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” Flo said, scrunching her nose.

“No worries.” You smiled kindly. “Wanna be my sous-chef?”

You could be a really good cook if you tried, she thought. The way you stir the sauce with care, not to mention you had a good taste for seasoning. You just never experimented in the kitchen, frankly because there was no need. She would be the one trying out the new recipes, and you happily became her taster. She couldn’t remember the last time she really sat down and ate with you like this.

“Remember that time when you said ‘Thanks, you too’ back to the server after he said ‘Enjoy your meal’? And then you made us leave right after? We never went back to that place!”

“Okay, but when you were so drunk you ran into the doors of the tube and everyone saw! Oh god, Y/N, how we didn’t end up in the papers was a miracle!”

Flo was laughing so hard that she could barely breathe. She remembered the stories in her mind vividly, but the way you recounted them, with your knack for storytelling, made them ten times funnier. She loved the smile on your face, how it spread across your cheeks and creased at the corner of your eyes, and made your eyes sparkle in the dim light.

“That was so long ago now, wasn’t it?” You shook your head.

“Yeah, that was after our third date,” Flo said.

“Wow.” You smiled to yourself. “Time flies when you’re having fun.”

“I hope we don’t stop.” She spoke. Then she realized that might have been misleading. “Having fun.”

“Yeah.” You nodded. “We were good friends long before we were together.”

“Here’s to even more unforgettable memories.” She raised her wine glass.

Before long, she was cleaning up in the kitchen with you. She chose to scrub the dishes and pans more carefully, making sure they were spotless for the next time you use them.

“Goodnight.” You said in the softest voice. She said the same to you, and watched you move towards the end of the hallway to what was once your shared bedroom.

No matter how hard she tried, she could not find the fatigue in her to sleep. She knew she had to be well-rested for tomorrow to move, but swirling in her head were a million thoughts. Flo was going crazy. She wanted to tear her hair out. No matter how hard she tried, her mind wouldn’t rid itself of you. Were you in the other room sleeping, on the right side of the bed and curling your body towards the left because that’s where she used to sleep, or were you lying awake and staring at the ceiling, angry at yourself too because you couldn’t stop thinking about her?

Flo sat up before her mind could process it. Her legs put themselves in front of one another again and again. She didn’t want to admit it yet because there was a lot at stake. All the weeks she could have done something, but she didn’t. The decision was final, and yet here she was—she was going to your room.

The walk felt like forever, even though it was only a couple of rooms away. Fear started creeping through the back of her mind, but then she heard footsteps on the other end of the hallway, where you would be resting. She looked up, and there you were, steps away outside your bedroom door, looking back at her with the same astonished look on your face. Your chest heaved under a plain pajama shirt, bathed in moonlight. You took a step closer, and waited. But you knew her too well, you knew what she wanted, and you knew that she would give in.

In a quick motion, you scooped her into your arms and your mouth attacked hers. The roughness of it all elicited a heavy sigh from Flo and she tightened her arms’ grip around your neck, keeping you close. She let you carry her back into the old bedroom where you slept, the one she hadn’t been in so long.

Flo kissed you, hard and passionate and soft and slow, as she tried to taste the most of you. The hunger she’s felt bubbling the past few weeks collided over the edge as she hooked her legs around your waist to keep you closer.

But then suddenly, you stopped. The look you gave her she couldn’t quite read. Your eyes flickered between hers, maybe trying to read her minds too as she was trying to read yours. Your lower lip twitched and you let out the smallest sniffle, proceeding to collapse onto her chest with a loud, broken sob.

She wrapped her arms around you without hesitation. There was no one else in the world she’d rather be with right then, and she needed to make sure that you were okay, even if this would complicate things tomorrow. For now, she needed to be yours, even if she stopped when she broke up with you.

Her heart still belonged to you, wholly, violently, magnificently.

“Stay here tonight, just once more.” You spoke against her neck, your warm breath heating, burning her alive.

She clutched you closer, and planted a kiss on your forehead.

Flo awoke the next morning to an empty bed. When she went downstairs to look for you, she found you in the kitchen making breakfast. It was eight forty-nine, and the U-Haul truck would be here soon.

You whipped your head around, flashed her a sad smile that she wished you didn’t give her, and extended your arm for her to dock herself into.

In the five years that she’s been with you, she had come to know you as well as you did her. She knew that you knew you both need the space to grow as individuals, and maybe, when the time is right, you would find each other again.

Flo rubbed your back, and smiled.

[zitkaplushie]

i feel like i've said this before but holy fuck jensen and kristin have a ridiculous amount of chemistry

[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

[chelleztjs18]

Lost in Assistance - Ch. 10

Elizabeth Olsen x Fem!Reader.

GIF: I do not own this GIF.

Summary: Y/n is a professional celebrity's personal assistant in Hollywood got hired with two years contract to be the assistant of the famous and talented Elizabeth Olsen / Lizzie by her manager. Both Y/n and Lizzie hate each other since day one, and they have mutual friend. One is as stubborn as the other, will Y/n stay when Lizzie gives attitudes and tries her best to make her quit before the contract ends?

Warning: fluff, angst, smut (in future chapters), swearing words ( +18 only)

I do not own any pictures, name, brand, song titles or anything that I used in this story.

All chapters

The three of you are finally back at the hotel. As soon as you got there, you went to your room to get ready. So is Lizzie in hers. When you are ready, you go right away to the girls’ room. You knocked on the door, and for some reason you slightly wish that Lizzie’s face would slowly show up as the door is opening but like usual it was Aubrey’s smile the first thing you see. “Hey.” Aubrey moves to the side as she opens the door wider for you to come in. “Hey Aubrey.” You unconsciously smiled in slight disappointment.

You do not mind at all that it's always Aubrey who opens the door for you. She is your good friend, really. You just start to think why is it always Aubrey? Is it just a coincidence or not really? Does she hate you so much that she is avoiding you at all cost? Oh well, why does it matter anyway? Why did you wish it was Lizzie who opens the door for you just now? There’s nothing special to it. The hatred is mutual. You were probably just concerned about her anyway after seeing her cry, you think it’s just a normal nice gesture if you are wondering how she was doing.  but again it’s none of your business. Your mind juggling all of those thoughts in such a short time triggers a quick rush in your mind.

Your eyes secretly look for Lizzie. You try to do it in the most subtle way so Aubrey won’t notice while both of you walk to the living room and sit down on the couch. “She is inside, still getting ready, Y/n.” Aubrey told you as if she can read your mind. “Huh?” Surprised with her statement just now, you got caught off guard and that was all you can say. You curse yourself in your mind for being too obvious.

“I know those eyes,y/n. You can’t lie to me. Your eyes’ movement. You were searching for her.” Aubrey teased with a knowing smile. “No, I wasn’t!” You denied instantly. “Yes you were, Y/n.” She convinced you in a playful tone. “No,I wasn’t!” You shout in a whisper. You feel warm on your cheeks and ears. “Okay, y/n. You were not.” She agreed in a playful sarcasm. “Tell that to your blushing cheeks.” She mumbles under her breath and rolls her eyes at the same time.

“What Aubrey?” You asked. “Oh nothing.” She smiled.

Aubrey slouch on the couch yet you sit next to her awkwardly straight up with your hands keep tapping your knees like they are a set of percussion. “So, how is she doing? Do you think she already feels better?” Your voice is almost like a whisper when you ask her as you don’t want Lizzie to hear it.

“Hmm. Care much, are you Ms. Y/L/N?” Once again, She always finds the chance to tease you about Lizzie. “Seriously? I asked just because that’s the right thing to do as a human being towards another.” You lifted an eyebrow as you tackled her tease once more. “You know what? Just forget I asked.” You added with a discomfort tone.

Aubrey giggled. “Geez, I was just joking. I think she’s feeling better but she still hates you.” She answered as she tried to hold a laugh teasing you. “Well, that, I don’t need to ask you, I already know. The whole world knows how much she hates me.” You shook your head. She giggles.

“So you are coming with us right?” You asked the girl next to you. “Nuh-uh. I’m not coming. I need to take a break from both of you and your arguments.” the brunette answers while her eyes locked on the TV. “Ouch. Are we that annoying?” You put your hand on your chest and act like you are hurt by what she said. “You guys are not annoying, I love both of you. You guys are just too funny for me to watch but I can’t say anything yet because both of you are too stubborn to listen to me and that’s annoying.” She said nonchalantly with a small smirk.

“What’s too funny about it? And what can’t you say yet? Tell me.” You jokingly push her shoulder. “Oh nothing. I have my own theory, you’ll know it next time.” She patched a meaningful smile. “Oh yeah? Probably a stupid theory?” You jokingly make fun of her. “Whatever y/n.” She giggles.

“Hey, y/n. I just want to say sorry. Honestly, I was the one who gave Lizzie the idea of giving you hell when you are working with her but I didn’t know it was you until she told me your name. Please don’t hate me.” Aubrey’s face showed remorse. “So, you are the one that makes my life a hell? Wow Aubrey. Thanks.” You said it in a playful tone.

“So you are not mad at me?” Aubrey looks relieved. “Nah,it’s okay. I figured anyway. You are forgiven.” You winked at her. “Gosh, y/n I thought you were serious.” She giggles. 

Lizzie comes out to the living room. “What are you giggling about Aubrey?” Then she notices you are there. “Oh.” That was all she said before she went back into the bedroom. A few minutes later, you notice that both of you need to leave not to be late. “Ms. Olsen, we have to go now. We can’t be late.” You told her from the living room. “Gosh y/n, Okay! Okay!.” She let out a harsh breath as she came out. “Bye Aubrey, I’ll see you later.” Lizzie yells as she walks out the suite room. You stand up, wave goodbye at Aubrey, and follow her .

_____

Both sitting on each side of the back seat, the car ride without Aubrey was silent. Just pure silence but you both taking turns on getting caught stealing glances at each other. You really don’t know why you have the urge to ask how she is doing while you know she for sure is not comfortable if you ask her that. You are just her assistant and her personal life is definitely none of your business.  Luckily, you both finally arrived at the location.

The photoshoot starts right away after her make up and wardrobe is ready. Everything is going well with the photoshoot until the last session with the last wardrobe, Sophie who is incharge of makeup and wardrobe had to leave early for a family emergency. Thank goodness, it is the last session, Lizzie just has to change to the last dress, do some shots and they can call it a day. Sophie asked if you can help with the last dress as she showed you which one and said you can just hang the dress once Lizzie’s done and you have no problem with it.

You wait for Lizzie outside the changing room to make sure everything is okay. You heard her softly grunts and curse under her breath. “Ms. Olsen, are you okay?” You heard other soft grunts. “I’m okay. Can you call Sophie please?” Lizzie asked, not knowing that the french lady already left. “Um, she left. She’s not here. Do you need help?”

“What do you mean she left?” She asked in surprise and confusion. “Yeah, she has a family emergency.” You explained. “I need help with the dress.” She asked from the other side of the wall. “I can help you.”

“No, not you. Is there somebody else who can help me?” She asked in a slightly irritated tone. “Yes, there’s Stefan, Andre, Antoine, Oh and there’s Claude.” You named all the crews that’s there who happen to be all males. “I meant a female one, y/n.” She opened the door a little, peek through the small open space and asked in annoyance.

“Yes, Her name is y/n. The only female here besides you.” You answered in a flat sarcastic tone, in emotionless face expression. “Like it or not, I'm the only one to help you.” You shrugged your shoulders. “Fine.” She groans and lets you in while trying her best to cover her body shyly. 

“Y/n, look the other way. Don't look over here.” She demanded. “How am I gonna help you if I have to look away?” You furrowed your eyebrows. She is in this red see-through sheer dress with some floral laces on some body parts that need to be covered with it but on the upper body part it looks like a beautiful corset. She turned around, her back facing you with the dress unzipped leaving her bareback exposed. You can see from the mirror in front of her, both of her hands crossed in front of her dress covered breast to hold the dress so as not to fall. She lowered her head, her face facing down.

The curve line from the back of her neck to her bareback with no bra straps whatsoever yet slightly covered with some strains of her long blonde hair was visible to you, the zipper slider body was way low on her lowest back, almost to her natural perfect size buttocks with the line of her g-string peeking out a little bit. Her peach-cream with a light hint of tanned skin colors look so flawless. Too perfect that no pores are visible.

You swallow your nervous feeling down, try hard to stop staring before she pulls her head up. No, you definitely don’t want her to notice that. “Okay,so you just need me to zip this up right?” You clear your throat. “Uh y-yeah.” You notice that she sounds nervous. 

“Okay. I’ll zip it up. Just pull the rest of your hair up so it won’t get caught in the zipper.” “She nodded, and her right hand grabbed the rest of her hair. The dress is slim-fitted, perfectly designed for her heavenly figure. You tried to pull the zip up by the pull tab but it was a little difficult to do, so you pulled it by the slider body. You tried to get a grip of it, your index finger is between her body and the dress. The tightness of the dress makes the tip of your finger slightly touch her skin. Both of you were surprised by it. You noticed her body jolted even in the very slightest movements when she felt the tip of your finger touch her skin.

You try to ignore the awkward feelings in the air, and you pull the zipper up slowly because you are afraid to ruin the dress. The room fell silent. The silence breaks down all barriers and makes you able to hear her breath hitch softly right when the tip of your finger lands on her bareskin slowly brushes her skin from the lowest part of her back slide up to the bottom of her back neck between her shoulders along her spine. Your eyes follow the zipper up and you lift your head higher to find her reflection in the mirror, her eyes closed and her lips slightly open as she slowly exhales.

“Uh-It’s all zipped up now.” You see her in the mirror standing there beautifully in the dress. She lifts up her head but as soon as her gaze locks with yours, she awkwardly turns her head sideways instantly. Meanwhile you are still hypnotized with the beauty in front of you.

“Take a picture. It will last longer.” Her voice brought you back to your consciousness. “I’m sorry?” You asked as you tried to recall what she was saying, unfortunately you didn’t pay attention at all. “I said, take a picture. It will last longer.” She repeated in annoyance.

“Oh. Uh, N-No, thank you. I’m good.” You answered quickly to hide your nervousness then you realized you picked the worst answer. You internally screamed at yourself for choosing such an answer but oh well, it is what it is. She was chagrined when you answered nonchalantly. She then walked out of the changing room and continued with the photoshoot.

As luck would have it, someone came to cover Sophie and help with the rest so both of you won’t have to deal with another insanely awkward encounter like earlier in the changing room.

______

Both of you are on the way back to the hotel now. After what happened in the changing room, it’s even more awkward to sit with her in the back seat even though there’s enough space in the middle space between you two. You tried to get busy to distract yourself, checking out work related things in your phone or notes and also answered a work call. You are talking french on the phone, Lizzie figured it’s from the magazine company. Lizzie took the chance that was laid in front of her to give yet another glance at you while you weren’t paying attention. 

Every single glance she threw seems to move up slowly. From your crossed leg then to your thigh and she noticed you are wearing ripped distressed jeans that show some part of your skin with your right hand on it. She glances again at your slender fingers with your polished short but not too short nails. She then realized she might glance too long (or more like staring). Mercifully, you still don’t notice what she’s doing.

She finally regains control of herself and stops herself from stealing glances at you then turns her head to watch the street of Paris through the window but that doesn’t stop her wondering what is happening with her at this moment. The more she wonders the more she gets irritated because she can’t figure it out.

Ch. 11

Taglist: @madamevirgo , @musicinourlips​ (Let me know if you want to be added in the tag list.)