#I mean I already wrote one side of the situation. it was last year actually; for ailesswhumptober. writing wasn’t as good as it could’ve

[angst-is-love-angst-is-life]

So was anyone else kind of irritated that in 1x19 “Who is Harrison Wells?” no one (not even Eowells!) was at all concerned about Barry when Bates turned into him? You’re telling me none of them thought “wait. Bates has Barry’s phone and wallet, and he’s already proven he doesn’t care about hurting people—” and acted accordingly??? Surely it would’ve been worth it to tell Iris about his identity if Barry was potentially in danger???? Or do I have to write the fic myself?

[yallthemwitches]

Sticking the Landing

For @jilytoberfest Day 30: 🎶"where's the trophy? he just comes running over to me"🎶 - The Alchemy by Taylor Swift

I originally wrote just a little snippet pre jilytober but now it’s the longest fic of the collection!

AO3 Here

It lasts only seconds. The shock in her eyes, the warm feel of her arms wrapping around his neck, holding on as he bears all her weight. She makes a little shriek as her feet lift off the ground and momentum spins them together. As far as he is concerned, it is the greatest sound she has ever made.

But the air has to rush back into the world eventually. The minute she touches back down, her brow furrows, eyes darting towards the other side of the pitch where Sawyer stands. The bloke she’s dating stands.

Should I expect to see you in the Gryffindor stands or are you a traitor?

He had wedged the note inside her history of magic textbook. He turns around and waits, watching as her hand grazes the piece of parchment and her lips turn upwards.

Not sure, where does Switzerland sit?

It floats back to him under the table and he catches it without hesitation, not looking away from a droning Professor Binns.

I reckon somewhere in the Beaux Batons stadium.

She can’t help but chuckle at the snarkiness of it. Beside her, Sawyer makes a loud yawn, using his stretch as an excuse to lay his arm around her shoulders. All of the sudden every quippy response she thinks to write back crumbles to dust.

“Godric, this is boring. Should be illegal to have classes before a game.” She doesn’t respond to Sawyer because she knows he doesn’t actually expect one. She tries to focus on class again, and sees out of the corner of her eye James turning around, anticipating a response. With one look at Sawyer’s dangling hand, he whips back around, shoulders now stiff and set.

*******

“Woah, no way Evans. No double agent’s sitting with us on my watch.”

“Bug off, Black.” Lily sidles a little closer to Remus who shoots his mate an annoyed look.

“Er Lily, if your boyfriend is on the other team—does that mean that this is a win-win situation for you?” Peter wheedles out, looking like he’s trying to do a particularly difficult arithmancy equation. Sirius guffaws and slaps him on the back, making him give a sheepish, pink smile.

“Right you are Wormy–I guess you could say that Evans plays for both teams—Ouch!”

Remus leans over behind Lily and pulls hard on Sirius’ earring. “Stop embarrassing me.”

Sirius whimpers like a puppy and Lily can’t help but laugh. She feels bad to not sit over with Sawyer's mates in Hufflepuff, but their relationship is still new and she doesn’t know many of his friends well enough. Besides, she can’t help that the Gryffindor box is vastly more entertaining. Even before she became mates with the marauders, the boys would make a big spectacle, crooning and screaming fabricated songs, trying to get the crowd to participate in wildly ridiculous cheers— it almost made it easy to forget that there was a game going on—almost.

“Alright Evans?”

A tuft of black hair rises up from the bannister, James already on his broom and hovering up to the stands. His new captain’s uniform fits him nicely—the gold plating of his badge bringing out the flecks of honey in his eyes.

“Oi! Prongs! Where’s my good luck kiss?” Sirius starts to make wet kissing noises and Peter grabs his stomach laughing.

James smiles at his friend but his eyes remain on Lily. After years of fighting it, she is willing to admit that she likes him like this: hair actually wind blown instead of a fabricated attempt, mouth permanently set in a wide grin, eyes alight with excitement and zeal—the tight uniforms doesn’t hurt either.

“Thought you’d be sitting with the yellows.”

“Nah, figured someone needed to keep the peanut gallery in check.” Lily nods over to the boys, Sirius now lurching in an attempt to kiss Remus’ ear.

“How noble of you, a real martyr,” James winks, starting to float back to the middle of the pitch. It does something jarring to her heart. “But really–glad to see you here.”

He flies away, the words good luck sitting like a lump in her throat.

*******

THIS IS A NAIL BITER FOLKS—SAWYER DAWSON PASSES THE QUAFFLE TO AMELIA JENKINS. THE HUFFLEPUFFS ARE REALLY PLAYING WITH THE SKIN OF THEIR TEETH HERE. BUT WAIT, JAMES POTTER OF GRYFFINDOR SWOOPS IN, HE’S INTERCEPTED THE PLAY. YOU CAN TELL HE’S GOT THIS ONE IN THE BAG—MAYBE GETTING A LITTLE TOO COCKY WITH THOSE FLIPS…

THIS IS THE MOMENT OF TRUTH TO END THIS HELLISH TIE BREAKER—AH, JAMES POTTER SCORES!

James does a small victory lap around the side of the pitch, fist pumping into the air. They haven’t even won yet, but the Gryffindor stand is inconsolable, Sirius and Peter leading the crowd in a raucous chorus of We Will Rock You. Lily is infected by it, laughing and stomping along with the rest, only the glimpse of Sawyer panting and frustrated at the other end of the pitch makes her sober up.

James takes a pass by the stands and the crowd erupts in a roar ‘POTTER POTTER POTTER’. She doesn’t mean to join in, at least doesn’t consciously make the choice. Blame it on hive mentality.

The game continues, but this time there is a distinct energy shift in the Hufflepuff team. Sawyer is all offensive, making perilous moves to intercept the quaffle, barely scraping past as bludgers get aimed right for his chest.

He flies past the Gyffindor stands where Lily and all the rest are a deafening roar of team spirit, still chanting James’ name. He turns his head just enough for Lily to catch it, the twisted grimace of anger. It stops her cold.

*****

James couldn’t deny it, he felt good. It wasn’t even because they were winning, already climbing their score to the point where catching the snitch would turn into a formality. No, the real victory was the fleeting image of Lily, mouth wide open in jubilant revelry, chanting his name.

If he owned a pensive, it would be the first memory he would guard—it shouldn’t have mattered so much with the whole crowd cheering as well, but something about her flushed face, her stomping feet, her bursting voice—they could lose and he would be all the better for it.

The game kicks off again and James immediately swerves towards Hufflepuff chaser Brenda Alburn, eyes trying to juggle between following the quaffle and peeking back at the stands where Lily still watches. A sudden rush pulls beside him and Sawyer nearly clips his broom, turning around to give him a dark scowl.

It was odd for Sawyer who was usually a pretty level headed bloke. James ignores it, pushing forward towards the quaffle which is now meters ahead of him. He picks up speed, getting closer to intercept when he feels something coming in close.

He had no reason to double back but Sawyer is beside him again. As swift as flicking a wrist, he reaches out and yanks at James’ broom, sending it into a tailspin.

James feels a sickly upheaval in his stomach as he free falls, the world a blur of spinning color. Screams ring out from every corner of the pitch and he swears he can pinpoint one amongst the crowd—

It’s a gamble, a stupid, completely mental choice but he pushes himself off the broom, the world suddenly gaining clarity as the spinning ends. He has a zero second window to grab hold of his broom handle before it spins out of reach and he kicks his leg up, clipping on with his shin and the new pressure halts the broom's spiral.

The roar is deafening, mixing screams of amazement with cries of foul play, but it doesn’t matter: Gryffindor caught the snitch.

He feels nauseous, body heavy and begging to be horizontal, but he pulls himself right side up on his broom, already seeing the students from the Gryffindor stands leaking down onto the field, awaiting his descent.

Maybe it was the lingering vertigo, but it all happens too quick to digest in the moment. He feels his feet touch the soft earth. A roar of a crowd rushes around him, a blaze of red and gold like wildfire in an instant. She is there, but walking towards him or towards Sawyer he isn’t sure. His body moves on its own, quickening his pace before he can even stop to think about the consequences. A smile on her face, a smile like all the ones he’s savored from her since they had become mates.

He doesn’t need to make a decision, it is already made. He can blame it on the near death experience later. He picks up Lily and swings her in his arms.

It lasts only seconds. The shock in her eyes, the warm feel of her arms wrapping around his neck, holding on as he bears all her weight. She makes a little shriek as her feet lift off the ground and momentum spins them together. As far as he is concerned, it is the greatest sound she has ever made.

But the air has to rush back into the world eventually. The minute she touches back down, her brow furrows, eyes darting towards the other side of the pitch where Sawyer stands. The bloke she’s dating stands.

“I-I’ve got to go..I’m glad you're alright.”

He wants to address the fear that he can hear stuck in her voice, but she pulls her arms away, fingers sliding on his shoulders as she goes.

******

“Godric, Lily is so lucky. What I’d do to have the two fittest boys in school making a scene over me like that—“

“But who can blame him? Did you see how she screamed when Potter took the nose dive? She looked about ready to throw herself from the stands.”

Its hard to ignore because it’s all everyone wants to talk about. He wants to be the better person (“A game is a game—it was an honest accident—Sawyers a good bloke.”) but even his words hang hollow in the air because he knew the look on Sawyer's face too well—a look of pure jealousy.

“If it wasn’t his last year, I’d lobby to ban him—break his broom and watch as he cries..” Sirius slurs out, putting an arm around James’ shoulders.

“But hey, silver lining! Our lovely Evans was in rare form by your little tumble. I swear there were tears in her eyes.”

“Not helping Sirius.”

He wishes it would help though, because hearing Lily invested in his well being feels like a bigger win than the cup. But that doesn’t take away from the fact that she is not there—

A hush rolls over the crowd as the portrait hole swings open. Lily walks in with deliberate steps. She’s not an idiot, she knows they have all been talking about her. Not making eye contact she beelines her way to the drink table, ignoring as whispers follow her through the room.

He can tell she’s been crying—not in the way Sirius described but really crying. On one hand he wants to console her, apologize for whatever he has stirred up in Sawyer, but on the other everyone is watching. Him approaching her would just cause more uproar.

She pours herself a drink and takes a long swig before refilling it again. Turning from the table she doesn’t even wait to acknowledge anyone, just walks with her shoulders back up the steps to the dorm.

“You need to talk to her.” Remus says beside him like a voice of reason.

“Get your cloak and go up there—just for fuckssake make sure no one bloody sees you.”

Filling a new drink, he mounts the steps and finds the door slightly ajar. He’s never seen the inside of the girl’s dorm before but it’s much more put together than the boys’, records and books neatly stacked around well made four-poster beds. The record player garbles out some faintly familiar tune as Lily reclines with her eyes closed, drink still clutched in hand.

“Alright, Evans?”

She doesn’t open her eyes, but he knows she’s awake. He opens the door a bit farther but doesn’t dare to enter without permission.

“ I thought you might want a refill.” He half heartedly holds out the drink and she cracks an eye open.

“Ok Potter, price of entry granted.”

He takes a few hesitant steps in, standing in the middle of the circular space. He can’t help but feel like he’s crossing a barrier, like some infectious disease in a host body.

“Look, I just wanted to apologize,” he murmurs, unsure of how to proceed. Lily straightens up, eyes now open with suprise.

“For what?”

“I don’t know—“ he meanders, “I guess I just can’t help feeling like I didn’t something. Like this is my fault.”

“James, you could have died. Or have been easily incapacitated for the unforeseeable future. Sawyer had no right—.”

“It could’ve been an honest—“

“No, James. It wasn’t—and besides he told me.”

James feels his stomach drop in a way reminiscent of his earlier fall. “Oh.”

Lily sits up and swings her legs to hang over the side of the bed.

“I owe you an apology. It’s my fault anyhow.”

“I’m not following.”

Her eyes go suddenly glassy, the bloodshot streaks becoming more prominent as tears threaten to spill over again.

“Please don’t make me say it,” she bites out.

“Evans, I’m being serious I don’t—“

“I fancy you, ok! I fancy you and—Sawyer could tell. Unlike us he’s not a complete fool.”

She starts to say how this doesn’t excuse his behavior or that what happened at the game was warranted but James doesn’t hear it. His heartbeat is defeating, his whole body becoming red and feverish. The whole world starts to spin again but her, the clear stable focal point to everything.

He crosses the few steps it takes to be next to her and she stands up with a start, confused by his sudden energy.

“Does Sawyer—“ he lets it teeters off, knowing his question is clear.

“Let’s just say, Sawyer isn’t going to make the cut.” She snorts bitterly, eyes looking at her feet. “I should have ended it ages ago honestly.”

Maybe it’s because his body is still in shock from it all, but he lets his instincts take over, all propriety lost.

“Will you let me hug you? I would really like to hug you.”

She gives a tearful laugh and opens her arms in weak approval. He doesn’t hesitate, wrapping his arms firmly around her waist and pulling her in. This close she smells like roses and the salt of her tears.

“I’m glad you’re ok James.” Hesitant, she reaches her arms up to clasp around his shoulders, before pulling herself closer, burying her face into his Jersey.

“Who me?” He exclaims in mock shock. “Hell, I’ve never been better.”

[charlie-lec-stories]

Better // CL16 & MV1

Pairing: Charles Leclerc / Original Female Character / Max Verstappen

Summary: You can cure the enmity between Max and Charles, but never their competitive drive.

Warnings: A tiny little bit of angst, but not much. Charles and Max taking things too far (like always).

Author’s Note: A story that explores the power battles inside a poly-relationship where there are three dominant people. A little story time: I wrote this while living in Argentina -something about me, I'm Spaniard but been living in Argentina for like, forever- and since my characters were inspired by friends of mine, the characters were originally Argentinian. I'm actually too lazy to think of another nationality for the female character and also it'd take too long to change it all the time to do something more culturally neutral, so I will leave it like that, sometimes you may find some things about her being latina, but not too much, so if you'd rather ignore it, knock yourself out! Rate: +16 (inappropriate language)

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

She loved them. She really did, with her whole heart, but she had never felt so tempted to throw them both out the window as right now. It started as a harmless breakfast, just the three of them, and what was just a simple comment of how much she loved the perfume Max brought for her, became the spark that ignited Charles' competitive side. He just couldn't help it, he had to say that the Channel one he brought was better on her. She never said anything about Max's being better, she just said that she loved it, because she did. Of course, Max took that personal, and five minutes later they were spraying her wrists with both perfumes and pressuring her to choose which one was better. Because that was the word that always meant trouble around them. They had fought their whole lives to settle which one of them was better and they just needed to bring that into the relationship too. Who wore the best outfit, who was a better driver, who was better at video games, who played football better, who was smarter, who read more books, who could name more capital cities, who had more points on Grill the Grid, you could make her moan first, who could unclasp her bra faster, who lasted more, who got less tired, who brought the best gifts... It was constant. At first, they would argue about it, random accusations of cheating at every game or challenge they faced, convinced that the other one simply couldn't be better. Mean comments thrown in the middle of situations that should be about love and pleasure. After a few times of Y/N simply grabbing her clothes and getting dressed again, leaving them alone in the room, they stopped arguing, but never competing.

"C'mon, mon amour. I know that you love this one". Charles insisted, caressing her hand and smiling at her.

"I do-"

"I told you". Charles cut her off to show Max who won.

"She loves mine more, that's why she wears it all the time. Right, Schat?". She just wanted to be swallowed by the earth.

"Of course I love yours-".

"More, you love it more". Max finished the sentence for her. She was not going to say 'more', she was planning on saying 'too', but it was pointless to argue. It was true, she wore Max's often, but she also kept Charles' for important occasions, it was just that both perfumes were for different types of situations. Charles' was too elegant and expensive to use it everyday, and Max's has perfect to wear on her daily basis. But they didn't want to hear about that.

"She didn't wear it for the gala last year. I don't think she likes it that much, Max". Charles was definitely looking for an argument.

"She just said it, are you deaf?". Things were escalating quickly.

She barely got out of that alive.

The next week it was race week, and they were already on edge with the competitiveness. The first free practice session went alright, Charles was the fastest, 0.011 faster than Max, and the Dutch just couldn't take it. He wanted to do better than Charles in practice two, but he just simply couldn't. When it came to speed, Charles was an expert and Max had a hard time accepting that. He complained the whole drive back to the hotel. She had agreed to go to and back from the paddock with him because they were staying at the same hotel. He talked about Charles and his powerful Ferrari engine like they were Netherlands' number one enemies, stating the he was kicking Charles' ass the next day at practice three. She just let him talk, take things off his chest. It was just Friday and they were already racing. She was competitive, you can't thrive in Formula One without competitiveness, but she did the best she could to leave that out of the relationship. Even if she wanted to win and do better than them on the sport, she was aware that love celebrates each other victories and supports through the defeats. Once back at the hotel, Max did what he always did when he felt like he had given a bad performance on the track, he searched for reassurance. Sex had been, though the whole history of human kind, one of the most primal ways of getting someone else's approval, and even if she enjoyed it, it wasn't the most healthy coping mechanism for his frustration.

"Max, we should sleep". She said while he kissed her neck and pulled at her clothes, they had barely set foot inside the room and he was already all over her. "We have practice tomorrow, and Qualifying. We need the sleep".

"I'll make you feel good and then we sleep". He kept softly pushing her towards the bed, his hand sneaking under her shirt after she didn't take it off as fast as he wanted her to. "I promise, Schat, please".

"Okay, but we can't stay up too late".

They did stay up late, and the next day she was extremely tired, the few hours she got of sleep not enough for her to be properly rested. Charles noticed instantly what they had been up to the night before. It wasn't the first time that Y/N and Max had alone time, just as he had with her sometimes or as the two men did whenever she was out with friends or back at home visiting family. But the sight of her fighting sleep and Max's big ass smirk when he passed him by just fueled Charles' most petty side. It was the implied 'I won' that made Charles furious. Max did better at free practice three and then, got pole in Qualifying. Charles ended up fourth, behind Y/N on second place and George Russell between them. Now it was his turn to be pissed. He went straight back to his hotel and sent Y/N a message, telling her that he wanted to see her. She knew what to expect, so when Charles pinned her against the door, she wasn't surprised.

"Don't. We're not doing it, Charles". He stopped attacking her collarbones instantly and looked up at her eyes. She was dead serious. "I mean it".

"Okay". Breathing heavily, he moved backwards just a few centimeters, giving her some space. "Can I ask why?". She huffed. "I know that you don't own me an explanation, I'm just curious. I promise".

"I'm just tired. I need to sleep". She looked genuinely exhausted. "I can't be the referee of your competition with Max tonight".

"I don't want to make love to you just to compete with Max, Amour". She scoffed, feeling kind of insulted.

"Tell yourself that enough and you might believe it". She was properly angry and Charles started to recognize that things were going too far.

"I'm sorry for making you feel that way". But she was way past apologies.

"You're just a pair of troglodytes!". Charles did a mental note to search for that word later, it definitely wasn't good, but he just didn't know how bad it was. "I'm sick and tired of being in the middle of your little beef. If you want to know who fucks better just go ahead and fuck each other and leave me out of it". With that, she stormed out of the room.

"Troglodytes veut dire... hommes des cavernes? Putain". (Troglodytes means... cavemen? Fuck).

They did fuck up bad.

Charles woke up the next morning with Max pounding his fist on his room's door. He checked the time before getting up, a lot earlier than when he needed to be up. He walked to the door and let Max in. His boyfriend was notoriously anxious, he kept rambling in Dutch and mixing it with some English words. From what Charles could grasp, Y/N refused to let him into her room last night and then left him on seen when he texted her goodnight. Charles already knew she was mad but for Max, she had just gotten angry out of nowhere. "We are troglodytes", Charles informed Max, who looked kind of surprised that Charles would use that word. But she was right, as a pair of cavemen, they just kept sizing each other, as if being better would make them more worthy, and through all that competition, they both lost. They had to fix it, whatever it took. If they wanted to be better so bad, then they had to do better. They sat together and thought about what they should do. Buy a gift? Make her some good dinner? Charles started writing a list of options on his phone. Max was more worried about starting on the first row with her at the race. If there was something that could scared them, it was their girlfriend driving angry. He was in trouble. At the paddock, Max and Charles were given the cold shoulder, not only by their girl, but also by Oscar and Lando, who most surely were up to date with what happened.

"Lights out and... We're racing in Hungary!". Max was forced out of the track in a blink, the Mercedes car that started next to him taking P1 and sprinting off. He went down to P3, overtaken by George too. It was kind of embarrassing, how easily she stole the race from him, just like that. Charles was close behind, in P4, and he knew that he had to build some distance because Charles couldn't be trusted with any gap. The Mercedes just flew off and Max decided to focus on keeping P3 and getting himself into the podium. P5 was Fernando Alonso, to say that Max was worried would be an understatement. He had to fight Charles while also making sure that Fernando didn't overtook them both. After his first pit stop, he got to pass George -who went down to P5- and get P2, Charles still visible on his right mirror, trying to take the inside line. They mede a little contact at the turn and Christian complained over the radio. He was in trouble, but Max couldn't do anything, the car was slow and he was doing what he could. Ferrari was so quick he could barely keep Charles at bay. GP, his race engineer, informed him that Fernando was on DRS range to the Ferrari number 16 and that the chances of the monegasque getting overtook were high. Max tried to decide: getting close to Charles and risk P2 or put some distance and then fight Fernando, who was faster than his boyfriend.

"I'll push, then focus on Fernando". He couldn't concentrate on everyone, he had to choose. Leaving Charles on his own gave Max time to build a gap with Fernando, and also made the Ferrari waste more tyre, giving him an advantage over Charles after Fernando inevitably overtook Max in a few laps. At least he could get P3.

No one was shocked when Y/N won the race, she had driven like a beast, completely untouchable. After parking her Mercedes behind the P1 sign, she ran to her team and hugged everyone. That gave Charles time to weight himself and take all of his head protections before running to her. Even if the world didn't know about Max, their relationship was public and they agreed on keeping it like that. He waited patiently for her to finish with her team and then walked to her, helping her take off her helmet and balaclava and kissing her fondly. He might be P4, but his girl won the Hungarian Grand Prix and he couldn't be happier. Max walked to them and hugged his girl, kissing the side of her head and telling her how proud he was of her. She walked out to the podium with her chest filled with pride, the Argentinian national anthem putting a smile on her face. Charles found himself proud too, as he watched his girl get her trophy and golden medal, Max standing at her right and looking at her with adoration.

The drive back to Max and Y/N's hotel was quick, them leading the way and Charles following. She was in a better mood, but she still felt like they needed to apologize properly to her for being a pair of machos, as she called them when she complained to Lando and Oscar. It was actually the brit's idea to fuel her anger to make her a menace on the track. The McLarens could barely grasp P10 there so he knew that they weren't winning that race, if he had to choose someone to get P1, he'd choose her. He made it clear: "They fight to see who's better but they never stop to consider that you could be better than them both. Doesn't that make you angry?". And damn angry she was. He wanted to watch the world burn to the ground so he could gossip about it later. "Show them who's truly the best". She walked out of Max's car not even looking back at him and completely ignored Charles, who parked next to them. They both followed to her room in complete silence. Inside, they sat on the bed and looked down at their laps, not knowing what to expect. Will she yell at them? Will she threaten with braking up? She opened a bottle of vodka from the minibar and poured 1/3 on each of the three glasses she had on the room's table, filling the rest of the glasses with orange juice. At least, if she was going to scream at them, they could down it with some alcohol. But after handing them the glasses, she never raised her voice. On the contrary, she changed her clothes in silence and sat on the little couch in front of the bed, at the other side of the room.

"I was named the most stylish person in motorsport by Vogue, trice. I have a 7 time World Champion as my mentor and Sebastian fucking Vettel as my race engineer. I can play almost every sport. I finished high school with perfect grades. I can play the viola and cello. I can sing. I have the best score on Grill the Grid. I'm the first woman to ever win a Grand Prix and the first latina to ever race a whole F1 race. I bagged Monaco and F1's golden boy and the most dominating driver of the decade. I just have to give you one kiss and you're on your knees, desperate and begging". She made a pause and Charles and Max looked up, watching her observe the bottom of her glass like it was the most interesting thing. She sighed and stood up, walking up and stopping in front of them. They looked at her from below, following her every move. She placed the glass on the nightstand and clicked her tongue, disappointment tinting her next words. "You both acted like pricks, the only things that you didn't measure against each other were your dicks, and if you did, I don't wanna know". They both looked away, blushing, the answer to that comment revealed, and she rolled her eyes. "This competition of yours has been the most pathetically macho thing you have done and you forced me to not only witness it but, also, be a part of it".

"We're sorry, Schat, we-".

"I'm not done talking. Don't interrupt". Max shut up and nodded. "What you did sucks and I should totally be mad at you for some time, but I think you learned your lesson tonight, after the demolishing victory I pulled against you". They both nodded eagerly, happy that she was forgiving them.

"Thank you, mon amour. We'll try and do better". Charles said and reached out to her, his hand coming to the back of her knee to bring her to his lap. She decide to place each leg between theirs, sitting on both Charles' left leg and Max's right. She took their faced in her hands gently, to make them look at her.

"You're welcome". They sent her their best smiles. "I know that you'll keep competing against each other to see who's better... just know that if I'm in the picture, you're always fighting for P2".

They both were well aware of that.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Okay, since I've seen that most of you guys like this series, I'll give it priority over other stories. Thank you for reading!

[otherone12]

Oh, Baby... You're Mine

Vampire!Gerard Way × Reader

-> Masterlist

A/N: Hey!! I’m weirdo and vampires are fucking hot, so I has to write a something like this (no judgement, pleaseeee). Hope u enjoy it :)

Summary: The boy in your class is shy and weird, but you've always been nice to him, making him create an obsession. The problem is he's a little weirder than you thought… I mean, he literally drinks blood, and wants YOU and YOUR blood, and he won't take "no" for an answer.

- Word Count: 2.090

- Warnings: She/her pronouns. Blood things, pet names? Kidnap, AFAB SMUT!

> DEAD DOVE!!!! < IF YOU DON'T LIKE THIS KIND OF CONTENT, DON'T READ!!!! YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE CONTENT YOU CONSUME.

- Ps: I'll not use y/n…

- Ps2: Sorry for the smut, i'm not used to write this, i'm still learning already. (:

- Ps3: I'm brazilian, so english is not my first language... sorry if i wrote something wrong.

___________________________________________

1st Person POV

Gerard has been my classmate since the beginning of the year. I've never talked properly with him, but everyday I say “hi” to him with a smile. 

His black hair fell perfectly on his unhealthy pale face when he bent over the table to draw. Maybe the way he didn’t talk to anyone, or the way he kept his attention on his drawings during the class, I don’t know, but he's really cute. 

Sometimes my pastime is to find him looking at me, when he notices I stared back, he stops staring and gets a bit blushed. 

This has been happening for some months, and I got a bit tired of this, so I walked towards him at the end of the class, knowing he has free time. I crossed the empty classroom, and stood in front of him. Gerard looked up at me and swallowed hard, looking a bit nervous.

- Hi! - I started with a kind smile - Am I bothering you?

- H-hey… N-no you’re not… - He tucked his hair behind his ear, taking his eyes from his draw. His voice was high-pitched and pleasant to hear. - I wanted to talk to you, but I was afraid of being creepy. 

We talked, and I noticed that we had a lot in common, passion for art; for good music and old movies; so we kept the conversation going as long as we could. He didn't smile even one time, but I thought he liked talking to me as much as I liked talking to him.

In the next few days, Gerard and I had small conversations during the free periods, but nothing more than that. I started to think about him as a friend, ‘cause somehow he made me feel great.

Wasn’t like I thought of him as some kind of partner or something, but it is nice to know that if I need someone to talk to, I can go and speak to him. I haven’t many friends, none actually, I just didn’t feel comfortable with anyone, but he was different, someway.

After class, on an ordinary day, I was walking alone with my headphones on, and the cold wind of fall in my face. Going home, I felt something weird on my way. I didn’t know what was wrong, but the sensation of being followed haunted me for some streets. 

Faster than I could understand the whole situation, I felt a strong hit in my head, I fell on the floor, beating my head on the asphalt. The pain didn't last longer than a few seconds, cause i had already fainted.

Opening my eyes slowly and with difficulty, I couldn't see an inch in front of me because of the dim light. When I tried to rub my eyes with my hands, I realized that they were tied apart. I began to panic, noticing that I was tied to a bed, with my hands on different sides of the headboard and my legs spread with my ankles tied to the other end of the bed.

My first instinct was to scream, and I did. I got no response, but a door was opened, making the room a little brighter because of the light coming from it.

Before the door was closed, in the few seconds that the room wasn't pitch black, I saw that the room had a gothic aesthetic, with old paintings, black veils covering the windows, candles and chandeliers filling the room, and the old structure itself attracting attention.

I heard the sound of footsteps approaching, unable to make out anything. Soon I felt cold hands tracing my face and going down to my neck. I froze, the soft skin of those hands was almost soothing, but I couldn't let it take away my focus. I screamed again, but my mouth was covered pressing hard on my dry lips.

- You don't need to scream, darling. - A familiar voice reached my ear, making me even more nervous - I won't hurt you, hun. At least, not now.

 Slowly, he took his hand away from my mouth and I didn't scream, for fear that the situation might become worse than it already was.

- G-gerard?! 

I said, stuttering and with my voice muddled by fear.

- Aw how cute, you recognize my voice. - His tone didn't sound friendly, but threatening. As he spoke, he caressed my cheek. - There's no need to be afraid, baby.

- W-why are you doing this? - I cried, and he dried my tears with his thumb. - please, let me go

I begged to no avail, only to hear a harsh laugh coming from him. 

- I'm doing this because you’re different from the others. But you already know that, right, princess? - He moved away from me and lit some candles, letting me see the room more clearly - Do you know how much time I spent observing you? The way you talk, the way you smile, the way you walk... The way you look, damn! All pretty, all perfect, but never all mine.

His delicate fingers holding the candles looked like some hypnotic thing, and i couldn’t stop stare at them.  

- I’m not the only one who think about you like this, i’m fucking sure about that. - The disgust in his voice, probably thinking about the guys who asked me to hang out with them, made him seem genuinely concerned about me. - So I couldn't wait any longer to finally make you mine.  

Gerard’s voice became serious, while his disgust turned to seriousness and possessiveness. The sound of the old wood on the floor creaking filled the environment while he walked toward me again. 

- I love you. I always have. And I know you love me too. - A fatherly countenance, together with the heat emanating from the candles, left the environment less morbid, but still gloomy.- If you didn't love me, you wouldn't have spent so much time with me, would you?

- You're crazy! - I screamed, still crying. - I've talked to you very few times. I've never said anything about love!

- You didn't say it, but I felt it. - Now, with the light brighter, I could see the highlight of his white skin contrasting with his black clothes. - You don't know what it's like to spend eternity looking for the right person. 

He walked towards me again with a smile I'd never seen before. The closer he got, the more outward his teeth became. My heart races when I realized that those was FUCKING FANGS! And “eternity” was meant literally.

He sat on the bed next to me and looked me in the eyes. His bright hazel iris bore into mine and sent a chill down my spine.

Panting, my nervousness increased and he noticed. Keeping his smile, letting it be obvious how he was enjoying this situation.

- You're so pretty, do you know? - His hand was on my body again, unbuttoning my blouse. He licked his lips admiring my exposed chest - The most beautiful woman in this world, and all mine.

I opened my mouth to protest, but the stern look he gave me shut me up.

My hands remained tied as he ripped the sleeves of my blouse, removing it completely.

- Please don't... 

Again, I tried to react, but he was already unzipping my pants, ignoring me. The only thing I could do was hope that he would feel sorry for me, and stop doing anything.

- Darling, you're mine now. Don't worry, I'll be nice... - his hands passed over me, who were now covered only by my black lingerie. - but just if you behave like a good girl. Will you do this for me, baby? Can you be a good girl?

While he spoke, his fangs turned apparently, in a perverse smile. He leaned over me and pressed cold kisses down my torso, past my ribs and up closer to my breasts, making me fight the pleasure that was slowly consuming my mind. A moan was about to escape my lips, but I bit it back, muffling any sound that might come out. 

- Looks like someone's enjoying it, huh?  - he hummed, with a haughty tone in his voice - I told you. You love me. 

I tried again to say something in protest, but this time it would be a lie. Not that I loved him, but I was involuntarily enjoying it. He licked his lips in such a hunger, I couldn't help but shiver. 

His hands slid down my panties, pushing them aside. He teased my entrance and made me sink my teeth even deeper into my bottom lip. He looked with satisfaction, laughing darkly, and said In a practically growl.

- Very wet, aren't we? 

I mumbled in response, trying not to make my state of hopeless obvious. Gerard removed his hand from inside me, and positioned himself on top of me, with his knees on either side of my waist. 

- You know I'm about to turn you into the same beast as I am, right? - I barely heard what he was saying, but his voice, at the same time that left me panicking, made me melt into the bed. - I just want to have some fun first. Vampires are cold... but don’t worry, you'll get used to it. 

Gerard undid his black  jeans, springing his boner free. I got shocked by the size, and he let out a grin with his shiny fangs. The situation itself could be romantic, like candles and a pretty guy who apparently loves me… but the kidnap shit messes with all of this.  

He thrusted his dick in me in one move, not even trying to be kind. I was in some kind of state of mind, forgetting that he was abusing me, I started to enjoy the situation. 

- Don’t be shy, honey. - He groaned, going somehow deeper. - I wanna hear all those pretty noises. 

It didn't take too long and I felt my orgasm getting close, and like he said, I moaned really loud, breathless, I felt him come inside of me. 

He kissed me passionately, muffling while I screamed in pleasure against his lips, reaching my apse. The taste of cigarettes mixed with red wine was good, and I kissed him back, needing and wanting more of him. 

I caught myself thinking of how I would feel being with him forever. I’ve never felt like that, loved by someone, cared for by someone, and Gerard gave me all I begged for at last few years. His electric touch, this erotic feeling he brought me, was it that bad? He said “turn you into the same beast as I am”, does it mean he’s gonna bite me? ‘Cause he looks exactly the same way as a vampire does in my mind. 

- Are you ready for this, hun? 

He whispered, biting soft my bottom lip, running his hand to my neck. 

Before I could even respond, his teeth were already buried in my artery. I could feel the heat of my blood being sucked from my veins. The feeling of his tongue running across my neck made the pain milder, even so, the piercing and sharp sensation of pain ran through my body, as did his hands, which touched every inch of my torso. 

As he tightened his grip on my waist, my warm blood began to drip from the corner of his mouth, painting his pale skin a bright red. When he finally let go of my neck, he left kisses at the bite site, moving up towards my jaw and finally reaching my lips again, smashing them hard. The taste of my blood now filled my palate, while our tongues intertwined in movements that seemed to have been rehearsed.

Soon, I found myself out of breath, and feeling tipsy by the smell of wine he emanated. 

The strength in my entire body seemed to have been removed, and I felt really weak. Gerard held my face with one of his hands when he broke the kiss looking for some oxygen, while his other hand was still squeezing my hips.

Quickly, my vision became blurry, and I could only feel his cold lips hit mine again and my body collapsed in that bed, feeling like i was on fire and leaving the scene outside like one of the paintings I saw in his sketchbook once

- G-gerard...

I mothered in a whisper.

- Shh, you'll be fine, baby. I'm gonna take care of you, and we'll be happy ever after. 

He caressed my hair and rocked me. Little by little I lost the last lapses of consciousness, becoming completely off.

___________________________________________

~ So... that's it, guys!

PART 2!

[lightofraye]

Keep fighting the good fight!

I just wanted to comment on a few things:

1.) Every single time Danneel touched Jensen during the WCC panel, he immediately and significantly leaned away.

2.) In the infamous photo of Jensen, Danneel, and their friends (taken while they were dating in the late aughts), Jensen is heavily leaning away from Danneel. He is fully embracing the person next to him, making no active contact with Danneel. She, on the other hand, is plastered onto him from face to thighs, and shoving her hand up his shirts (so much so that his stomach is exposed). Also in that photo, in the back, on the opposite side? Riley. I would love to hear your analysis of that photo, and what you think about that whole messy situation.

I have personally speculated that one of the reasons Jensen initially stayed with Danneel was to save face after detonating a bomb in their social circle. They had to prove that they were really “in love” to justify and excuse the affair. From there, I think social pressure and apathy doomed him into marriage - and I think he’s too “old-school” to divorce her without major cause. They’ll probably be together until he actually catches her in bed with Steve. 🤷‍♀️

Hiiiiii!

Sorry it took me this long to get back to you!

Life happened and I wanted to know if you were okay with your name out there.

That said....

First, thank you SO much for the compliment! I super-appreciate it!

Comment away! I like discussing things!

1) YES! Even when she did that rather overly aggressive shove-pat and claimed to be joking, he turned away from her.

2) I know exactly what photo you're talking about! I can't find it right now but I know which one you mean! She was being overly possessive and clingy, as if to go "See? This is my man!" My lord, woman, show some class and dignity!

I'm told that photo was taken after they married--I believe--and by then they were doing a kind of WB/CW promo thing. Jensen and Riley are clearly professional enough to behave themselves, thankfully.

But I could tell Jensen was tense and not at all comfortable that Danneel was behaving in such a manner. She's always possessive and insecure, even now, which is a damned shame. True confidence stems from inside, not what they're wearing (that had been her answer once, when asked).

So… the timeline of when they got together and how varies because apparently it's hard to keep accurate information. Plus Danneel hired some company or other to scrub a lot of her bullshit off the internet. Thus a lot of her older mean girl tweets are gone.

That said… this is more or less accurate. Jensen was supposedly already broken up from his girlfriend. Danneel was not broken up from Riley. Supposedly they knew each other back from when Jensen helped make the Plight of Clownana. (I watched it on YouTube; it's hilarious.)

Fast forward a few years and Jensen and Danneel meet up again in the making of Ten Inch Hero. Jensen liked to amend years later in conventions that they fell for each other during the commute to filming, and even claimed once that he wrote her a note saying "Not now, someday."

(I believe that note thing is false, because it was brought up so many years later and not during the initial telling back when it happened. Plus, Danneel never brought it up during the Drama Queen podcast despite Jensen claiming she kept it--Danneel stated the only paper thing she kept was the birthday card from Hilarie.)

The problem is… you could tell even during their dating photos, their post-engagement photos and even during their freaking wedding… there was zero chemistry. Zero interest. Danneel was possessive, yes, but affectionate? No. It's even worse from Jensen to her--withdrawn, stiff. He used to be comfortable with PDA before her. Since they started dating then married, it's been bad. He's just not comfortable at all.

Last year at Crossroads, that kiss was painful. He was pulling away and she was forcing him.

Wales Comic Con opened some eyes and it's encouraging. It's not "cute" or "banter" or anything. Not when he actually put himself down and she didn't reassure him. Not once.

So to your theory as to one of the reasons Jensen stayed with Danneel. It's entirely possible… but they were going on 2-3 years of dating and it was only when Jared proposed to Genevieve that Jensen was given the ultimatum--lock her down or she was going to split.

Given it was barely weeks after Jared proposed, I can't help but wonder if Danneel made that threat at all because she felt in competition against Genevieve. She has been for a very long time.

Of course, there was no way Danneel was going to break it off with her money ticket. Ahem.

I do agree social pressure doomed him into the marriage. From the persistent gay rumors (poor guy had been dogged by them since Days of Our Lives) to his father's very harsh expectations… Jensen was in a no-win situation. Maybe he felt Danneel was "good enough" back then.

Then once the ring was on that finger, everything changed.

There's a reason why he says their marriage works better when they're apart--which, honestly, isn't a marriage at all.

So… will he ever divorce her? That is the million dollar question.

From my speculations of the abuse he's under and how hard it is for a victim to break free from that to other possible reasons why he may still stay with her… we can't know. We just don't know.

However, I hope he does. He seems happier, healthier, away from her. A relationship should be a foundation in which to build a good life; not one that drains you.

Thanks for the message. I really appreciate it and your patience.

[damagedintellect]

Dazai Osamu x reader

💌 Reading into the palms of isekai bullshit: Chapter 4 💌  

Summary: You were no stranger to isekai bullshit. It’s not like you had a problem with it. The genre took over the anime scene for years now but you try to stay away from thinking about how you would handle the situation. The last time you thought about inserting yourself into your favorite show you wrote a 100k word xReader fic for your favorite characters and you didn’t want to spend all your time consumed by the brainrot again. Never again, you promised yourself that was the last time you’d let the devil on your shoulder win. You clicked on chapter 1 to start the adventure over again but when you opened your eyes and saw Dazai O-FUCKING-samu getting choked by Kunikida you honestly hoped it was a dream.  

Notes: Another isekai so I can play around with BSD like dolls.  

💌 Word count: 1,970 💌 <= Previous Chapter | Next Chapter =>

The next few days will be boring for you since Dazai was taken by the port mafia. Being a non combatant also kind of sucked because it meant that you were basically useless on the front lines. You mostly spent your time doing office work and or following Ranpo around like a lost puppy getting him snacks whenever he wanted. Honestly with how bored you felt it seemed like he was rubbing off on you. Although you still didn’t forgive him after that last stunt. The sugar fiend was so pleased with himself when he saw you that morning. Although you should have expected as much.

 Atsushi was concerned over Dazai’s disappearance but you spilled the beans that he was taken on purpose to try and figure out what was up with the bounty on his head. That actually made him feel worse but before he could ask you too many questions Ranpo pulled you away leaving Atsushi alone to run errands with Yosano. You sighed seeing how satisfied Ranpo was as if he was a major hero stopping a great calamity.

 “Still doesn’t make up for giving Dazai the drawing but I’ll accept the apology.”

It wasn’t long until Kyouka was taken in and you were once again pushed to the side. Now you think you understand how Ranpo feels about knowing the ending of books. Again you stayed out of the fun only dropping your two cents when absolutely necessary. Atsushi asked if you wanted to tag along but you begrudgingly turned them down. Meaning you’d miss out on getting crepes later. You’d have to go out on your own time to get some. Which gave you an idea but it was still a day too early or was it? You remember Dazai pretended to be held longer but when did he actually sneak back? As the day came to an end you took your leave making sure no one else was around. You relaxed against his door in the standard cool guy position and started knocking.

“.... . -.-- , / .-- .- -. -. .- / --. . - / -.-. .-. . .--. . …”

“Hey, wanna get crepes”

He’d understand the morse code right? You had to look up a chart to figure it out. A brief moment passed with no answer. Oh well, you would still go to get a crepe. You were about to leave when you finally heard a very soft knocking from the otherside.

“.-- .... -.--”

“Why”

You had to pause, looking up what he said before you smirked to yourself. “If you do, I won't tell anyone you came back already.~” You said it in a sing-song way like it wasn’t a soft threat. There was a short beat before the door quickly opened and he pulled you inside. You yelped as you stumbled backwards but he put his hand over your mouth pulling you closer so he could close the door before anyone else saw. “Now what’s the real reason?” He seemed slightly irritated that you disturbed his peace. 

Ever since you came into the picture it feels like you can see through him and he's not used to someone else being able to do that since Chuuya. He's still wracking his brain trying to figure out how you do it because it still doesn't add up. Especially since Chuuya minded his own business for the most part and you've practically made it your goal to win this game that Dazai swears you both are not playing. You saw his palm twice, how can you know him like the back of your hand? He’s done his research and that’s not how palm reading works at all! You shouldn’t be able to get names from his palm or very specific details the way you’ve been. When he talked to Ranpo before Kyushu he was so sure that you weren’t reading palms at all but still it couldn’t be an ability so it had to be a secret third thing that he still hasn’t found out about. Disappointed would be an understatement for how deranged he felt when Ranpo came back and you saw through his trap. There was only one other person who has managed to counter his predictions in this way and he’s sure you are not a demon like he and Fyodor are. So what gives?

“Well Atsushi took the new girl for crepes and it sounded good. I can’t ask Ranpo out of spite. Yosano would rather get a drink. Kunikida doesn’t eat sugar past a certain hour and actually I didn’t even think about asking Kenji now that you mention it.” You played dumb making up random excuses as neither of you moved to change the position you were in. You were still being held slightly into his chest and leaned back far enough to need Dazai’s hold on you to stay balanced “Besides I figured you’d wanna get the taste out of your mouth after being reunited with your ex. I assume all you’ve had was cheap booze and canned crab?” He only frowned as you glanced over to his lazy set up. It looked like he was genuinely weighing out his options before his sinister smirk rested on his lips. He needed to gain the upperhand somehow. "Admit that you missed me and I'll go."

"What?" You were dumbstruck. You were the one with leverage. It was you who was supposed to be making demands not following orders. "You heard me just tell me that you missed me." He sneered, "I'm just trying to help you be more honest-"

"I missed you." Your cheeks were warmed by the confession but you held firm with no hesitation. Your voice was soft yet strong as if it was intended for his ears only. Like it was supposed to be your little secret.

Dazai was in a state of bewilderment, astonished that you actually said it back to him. He really didn't expect you to, and he didn't think it would be so genuine. He marveled at you for a while, for once he was at a loss for words. Your eyes held an unwavering conviction over the sentiment that he would rather not think about. Originally he was trying to garner more control over the position you placed him in but now it appears he's the one who played himself. He lowered his gaze letting his bangs shield his vision as he shifted you upright. Your unwavering stare made him tense. He wasn't used to this feeling of being uncomfortable. You really were his belladonna.

"Okay." 

Dazai sounded far away from himself. You desperately wondered what was running through his head. He started unbuttoning his vest as he opened his closet to pull out some more casual attire. He ran his hand through his hair pseudo slicking it back throwing on a pair of glasses. By the end Dazai looked like a different person as you went to get your reward. When you got there he ordered for you but you paid knowing that you were the one who invited, or well, forced him to come it should be your treat. Of course it was no surprise to you that Dazai had ordered you both the “Romeo and Juliet” which was chocolate ice cream, with freshly cut strawberries, two pieces of pocky, whipped cream and drizzled with chocolate sauce. You wonder if Dazai got it because of the flavor or because of the name because he couldn’t pass up the double suicide reference. Even if he didn’t order for you it’s the one you would have chosen because the one you wanted to try was already sold out and it was the next bestseller.

It was golden hour, painting the sky in beautiful yellows, oranges and hints of reds and purples. There seemed to be less people out and about right now which was good for Dazai. It also meant that you and him got to share this moment completely unbothered. Watching the sun set over the city and eating something sweet would be the perfect end to the peace. You had maybe a day or two before the guild showed up on your doorstep and you weren’t looking forward to the week of chaos when Q gets released into the world. Dazai had been unusually quiet but you didn’t mind just the fact that he came with you was enough. As you ate the last bite you noticed some of the ice cream dripped on the back of your hand. You were about to wipe it away with a napkin when Dazai finally spoke, grabbing for your hand.

“If I profane with my unworthiest hand

This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this:

My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand

To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.”

He licked it up, placing a gentle kiss to where it used to be giving you a playful look. Little does Dazai know you actually played Juliet in highschool so without missing a beat you shifted your hands as you spoke.

“Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much,

Which mannerly devotion shows in this;

For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch,

And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss.”

He didn’t seem that surprised as you continued the scene if anything he hummed with enthusiasm. “Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?” Dazai smirked, leaning into your personal space. You wonder how far he’ll go “Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.”

“O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do;

They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.”

Dazai interlace your fingers giving you eyes that pierced your soul. Were you guys playing chicken right now? Was this nerd chicken? If this was you didn’t want to lose but no matter what you did, it would be his win since you already took the bait. Savvy as always, he has tied you to a stake you cannot fly. 

“Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake.” You had to come up with something otherwise you won’t hear the end of it.

“Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take.” Dazai brought his free hand up to your cheek. You watched as his eyes closed as he started closing the distance. You quickly placed the kiss on his cheek instead of his lips. You whispered against his ear before pulling away “I already told you, saints do not move, and I am not that easy.” Implying that you weren’t a saint you grinned smugly.

He exhaled out of his nose “No you are not.” He matched your smile and stood up. Dazai was about to let go of your hand but you tighten your grip “Who said you could let go?” You would yield this round but that didn’t mean you were going to throw in the towel. You wanted to make it clear that you were enjoying the game. “Then after you my little belladonna~”

“With pleasure my little snake.” It didn’t have the same ring as mackerel but you tried.

You held hands all the way back to the dorm. The coast was clear but who knows for how long. You let go of his hand when you were outside of his room. “I won’t tell, scouts honor.” you held out your pinky to him. Everyone knows that pinky promises hold the most gravity in the court of law. After he shook on it he softly but swiftly made his escape.

You hummed to yourself “Parting is such sweet sorrow that I shall say goodnight till it be-” you stopped, he wouldn't hear you so what’s the point “A few days from now.” You sighed, retiring to your room as well.

What you didn’t know was that Dazai did hear it from the other side of the door and he was smiling to himself.

[myrquez]

I am Italian and it doesn't seem to me that the hatred for marc has decreased. On the contrary I have the impression that since his ducati move was announced the hate comments have increased.

What the Italians wrote after the wdw is disgusting, marc was wished everything and the worst thing was definitely the behavior of the journalists. Zamagni, moto.it, sky have used what happened to be able to talk about marc in the most disrespectful way possible and trying to provoke as violent a reaction as possible in their audience.

Many will disagree with me, but even Bagnaia with the latest statements a fully took part in the action to destroy marc mediatically. It seems clear to me that the strategy is, as usual, to make marc look like the villain of the situation. With his statements Bagnaia wants it to be clear to the public that whatever happens will definitely be marc's fault, while he will be the poor victim.

Bagnaia for his own good should get away from rossi and instead continues to be manipulated and used as a tool in rossi's one-sided war.

On one thing I’ll have to disagree e mi scuserai forse but: what Marc is facing today is nothing like what he had to face years ago. People back then were extreme, not only vocally or on socials. Has the atmosphere worsened a bit after Ducati announcement? Sure! But it isn’t really like what went on for some years after 2015. Just to think how they welcomed Marc at WDW, cheering and dancing with him, telling him to not sign Vale’s helmet, if I have to be honest I don’t think it would’ve been possible years ago. This ofc doesn’t mean people do not hate Marc anymore. The press will be the press and they will ALWAYS go after controversies, clickbait headlines, and such shit. And they still do this bc ofc there are people who still don’t like Marc for many reasons: do many of them not like him bc of Valentino’s narrative? Yes! But many of them also do not like him just because Marc is… Marc. I love him, he has always been my only one, the respect I have for that man is incredible. But he IS extreme, in many many ways. It’s just who he is. How he acts, how he races, how he thinks, how he speaks. You either love him or… just not love him. And it’s okay to not like him, for me, it’s totally normal! However, I’m glad it’s not as bad as years ago.

As for Bagnaia, I want to say that even if I do like him I’m not his biggest fan in the world and I wouldn’t have any reason to defend him at any cost, but I still think that among all the VR46 riders, Bagnaia has always been the “quiet” one. I don’t really remember him saying any crazy, very antagonistic shit. Might he be just very subtle? Yes, why not! And it would be crazy to not think he’s on Vale’s side of the history, bc ofc he is. But I just think journalists are trying to push this antagonistic narrative between the two already, asking Pecco some fuckass dumb questions, and once he actually answers they’re gonna make some big, crazy headline out of it, like that time they asked him if he considered the psychological games Marc could employ against him and he was just like, not really, I didn’t think about it bc mental games are useless with me. That’s it. But ofc people were already like omg Pecco is losing the idgaf war already!! The girls are fighting!! Well… no, actually. Pecco was just answering the question they made him. And he’s the first to say that the press is being extreme and way too annoying.

Again, I don’t remember him being very antagonistic about it. Could it be that I just missed some interview?? If you remember what those last statements were, just lemme know!! :)

[fitrahgolden]

Lilies and Soap: Chapter 5 - A Good Hurt

[NOTE: I was going to write a few lyrics for “A Good Hurt,” Anthony’s song for Violet, but it’s literally just “Upward Over the Mountain” by Iron & Wine. Ya’ll, it’s the perfect song for them. Also, it’s one of my favourite songs of all time. The lyrics will be at the end.

An additional note: This is the last of the “once a day” updates. I immediately fell in love with this story and have been compulsively writing it all week. But, unfortunately (for me, anyway), the updates are gonna slow way down, more to a “once a week” type frequency.]

“Mum?”

Anthony was happy to find his mother alone in the drawing room of her house. He didn't want an audience for this.

“Anthony, Dear. I didn’t know you were coming by.”

“Yeah, just for a bit. I can’t stay for dinner, but I need to talk to you.”

Concern coloured Violet’s face. “Of course. Is everything alright?”

“Oh, yes. Sorry, yeah. Everything’s fine. Actually, I wanted to play you something.”

He moved to sit at the grand piano situated by one of the room’s large windows and scooted to one side.

“Do you mind sitting with me?”

Violet smiled curiously as she sat next to her eldest son. “Oh, am I getting a preview of the next album?”

Anthony laughed gently. “No. It’s not going to be on the next album, but I would like your permission to consider it for the one after that.”

“Permission?” She raised her eyebrows.

“Yes. I wrote a song about you. Well, about us, for you. And I didn’t want to spring on you. It means a lot to me that you be the first one to hear it in private, and that I have your blessing to share it.”

Anthony wasn’t surprised when tears already started to form in his mother’s eyes.

“Go on, then,” she whispered. “Let’s hear it.”

Anthony began to play the opening notes of a song he’d titled “A Good Hurt.”

After his father died when he was eighteen, Anthony’s relationship with his mother became rather volatile. For the first year, Violet was all but completely absent from the family, including Hyacinth, who was born shortly after Edmund Bridgerton’s death. Anthony became a caretaker to his mother and a surrogate father to his seven siblings overnight. Once Violet recovered, she and Anthony never quite found their footing when it came to each other and their roles as heads of their family.

A couple of years ago, things came to a head, and Violet and Anthony decided that it would be in their best interest, and the best interest of the whole family, if the two of them went to therapy, separately as well as together. As part of his healing journey, Anthony’s therapist encouraged him to lean into his music, to use the tools he already had at his disposal to process the things they were working on in therapy. “A Good Hurt” was one of the results of that labour. Anthony was proud of it, of what it did for him, and hoped it would communicate to his mum everything he’d felt in the past, what he felt now, and what he hoped for their future. 

Violet was silent for a few minutes after the final notes resounded in the air before dissipating.. He wasn’t sure what to expect, so he just sat silently with her.

“Anthony,” she finally said, “I… hardly even know what to say.” She put a hand on one of his and squeezed. “Thank you. It's beautiful. Thank you… so much.”

Anthony had some tears of his own in his eyes as he squeezed Violet’s hand in return. “You’re welcome, Mum. And thank you.” He handed her a folded piece of paper, filled with his handwriting. “It’s the lyrics. I want you to have them. And there’s no pressure to let me record it. I understand if you want to keep it private.”

Violet nodded and pressed the paper against her chest. “May I think about it?”

“Of course, Mum. Take all the time you need.”

The two sat at the piano together for a while, talking and playing a few songs together. Eventually, Anthony stood.

“I’m sorry I can’t stay and eat with you guys. I have plans tonight.”

Violet stood as well and patted his cheek. “Oh, that’s fine, Dear. Anything fun? Are you seeing Kate?”

Anthony furrowed his brows a bit at the assumption. Not because it was unreasonable. It wasn’t. He often spent his evenings with Kate. He simply felt an unfamiliar feeling in his chest. It was as if he felt sorry that the answer to his mum’s question was no, he wasn’t seeing Kate tonight. He shook the thought out of his head and smiled. “No, not tonight. I have a date, is all.”

Violet gave a half smile and nodded. “Right. Well, have a good time.”

Anthony nodded curtly and turned to leave when Violet stopped him.

“And, um, thank you, again. I’m so proud of you. you know that, right? Of what you’re making of your life, sharing your talents with the world. Your father would be, too.”

—

Anthony met Siena outside of the restaurant she’d picked out. She greeted him with a kiss on the cheek before they headed inside. They were each recognised exactly once before they were seated and laughed about it while they looked at their menus.

The food was delicious and the conversation was easy. It was mostly more of the same as their lunch meeting, talking about their time at the Royal College of Music and the careers that followed.

"Oh, I had a question," Siena said after taking a sip of her wine.

“Alright, here we go. Should I be scared?” Anthony joked.

“No. Believe me, Bridgerton, you’ll know when I start grilling you. It’s just that I noticed at our meeting the other day that you still call Kate Lamb. After all these years. It always got my attention when I would hang out with you guys. How did that come about?"

Anthony sat back and smiled softly at the memory. A few seconds passed. He saw Siena looking at him expectantly and realised he hadn’t actually started responding to her yet. "Oh. Well, we were in one of the practice halls. It was the first time we collaborated. The first thing she did at the piano was play  'Mary Had a Little Lamb.' Completely serious, totally committed to singing and playing each note. And I just…burst out laughing. After she threw a pencil at me, she explained it was a part of her vocal warm up when she first started music lessons when she was six. She liked that it was her stepmum's name, so she stuck with it from that point on. I had to respect that. She's been my la–  She's been 'Lamb' to me ever since."

Siena nodded, her expression hard to read, and quietly said, “Ah.” She quickly moved on to other topics, and the rest of the meal was perfectly… nice.

After dinner, the pair decided it was too pleasant of a night to not take a walk in the nearby park. Siena looped an arm around Anthony’s and they strolled along the paved trail, avoiding the evening runners. During a lull in the conversation, Anthony slowed to a stop and turned Siena towards him. Her hand slid down his arm to take his hand.

“I’m having a really nice time, Siena.”

“Me, too.” She smiled up at him dreamily.

“Are we… Um, do you want to call it a night, or…”

Siena raised an eyebrow as she got on her tiptoes to kiss him. As soon as Anthony closed his eyes, he saw Kate. The same Kate he’d imagined while watching her record “Perpetual Commotion.” The Kate that was brand new to him, while somehow at the same time also feeling intimately familiar. The sudden vision made him falter, and when he and Siena pulled apart, he opened his eyes to find her frowning at him in a sad, oddly understanding way. She shook her head slowly as she looked down for a moment. Then she kissed his cheek and finally answered.

“Yeah, Anthony. I think we should call it a night.”

They hugged and parted on a friendly note, speaking genuinely about how much they were looking forward to working with each other on Siena’s album and exchanging "see you soon"s. Once she left in the taxi that Anthony had flagged down for her, he walked around the park for another hour on his own. His mind was whirring, and he’d hoped the walk would help slow everything down. No such luck. So, he went home and did what he always did when he needed to sort out his thoughts.

He started writing.

—

The words were pouring out of him faster than he could even think about what he was writing. He eventually stopped to read the stream of consciousness that filled the pages of his notebook.

Kate, Kate, Kate.

The melodies, the imagery, the metaphors. He was writing about Kate and didn't even realise it.

Kate, Kate, Kate. 

It was all there, in the span of ten minutes, the entity, the woman, the person. His person in more ways than he had been aware of.

Kathani, Kate, Lamb. 

He felt lightheaded, looking back at the last few years with all the filters removed, finally seeing everything for what it truly was.

He laughed to save from crying, to stave off the pity and frustration and…anger he knew he would be directing at himself soon enough.

So much wasted time.

Well, he couldn't get that time back. He could only attempt one hell of a course correction.

Mine, mine, mine.

Hers, hers, hers.

It was a wish, a prayer, a vision of his future–of their future. 

Ours, ours, ours.

He stared at the pages again. He needed to find a way to distil them down into… something. He didn’t know what.

Something worthy of her. 

Kate, Kate, Kate. 

[NOTE:

“Mother, don't worry, I killed the last snake that lived in the creek bed

Mother, don't worry, I've got some money I saved for the weekend

Mother, remember being so stern with that girl who was with me?

Mother, remember the blink of an eye when I breathed through your body?

So may the sunrise bring hope where it once was forgotten

Sons are like birds, flying upward over the mountain

Mother, I made it up from the bruise on the floor of this prison

Mother, I lost it, all of the fear of the Lord I was given

Mother, forget me now that the creek drank the cradle you sang to

Mother, forgive me, I sold your car for the shoes that I gave you

So may the sunrise bring hope where it once was forgotten

Sons could be birds, taken broken up to the mountain

Mother, don't worry, I've got a coat and some friends on the corner

Mother, don't worry, she's got a garden we're planting together

Mother, remember the night that the dog had her pups in the pantry?

Blood on the floor, fleas on their paws, and you cried 'til the morning

So may the sunrise bring hope where it once was forgotten

Sons are like birds, flying always over the mountain”

“Upward Over the Mountain” by Iron & Wine.

Lyrics by Sam Beam.]

[callsign-rogueone]

It’s been way past 30 mins, but sending anyway just because I love you 💕

What’s your favorite thing about writing/what got you into writing?

-fw-gt

and this response is way past due lol oops

what got me into writing was my middle school friend introducing me to the strange new world of Dr. Who fanfiction. that was a very short-lived phase for me, since I wasn't really into the show, but the idea that I could write about other people's characters just... doing stuff was life changing. literally.

I've made so many friends through fic and fandom since then (love u all) and writing in already-developed worlds has really helped me with my composition skills! I'm very very slowly writing a fluffy but also deeply emotional romance novel on the side that we won't talk about (unless you ask, then I'll tell you everything. I'm actually in love with it, but it needs some spaghetti throwing and accuracy checks before it can go much further, hence why it's on the back burner lol)

my favorite thing about writing... I can't pick one, so here's two (you know how indecisive I am.)

I said this above but the community and the friends I've made!! the social aspect is definitely a big part of it for me. being able to talk about all this and play sandbox with y'all (see my last post lol) is so fun and has helped brighten each one of my days for the last six months (I started writing FW in January. that's wild to think about.) I'd been posting on this blog on and off with diff fandoms and random stuff for years, but nothing has stuck like fourth wing, and that's 1000% because of y'all. muah.

it's an outlet for me personally. this all started with Garrick and Angel, which I honestly didn't think would go anywhere. when I posted it, I told myself I would be happy if it got two likes, because I wrote it for myself -- Angel is me, just in a different universe. she's got chronic pain, anxiety, and a lot of the personality traits I have. and while I promise you I will never assign physical traits to the girls in my writing, since they're a reader insert, and I want all of us girls to be included and be able to "be" Angel, or Darling, etc., I'll admit that Angel is implied to be on the thicker side, since she's me, lmao. but I think it's still neutral enough, since gare is a giant, so he's bigger than any of us. love me a big boi. I want to feel small too, okay 🥺

anyway, the idea of having someone like Garrick be there for her through that all is helpful to me. it's a little escape from my current situation, a daydream of sorts, without pretending that I'm healthy or not in pain, but actually acknowledging that and making it part of the story, having Angel have a reason she's in pain all the time -- I say, as I'm laying here, answering asks because I can't sleep because of this mystery illness and the pain it's causing me right now lmao

similarly, and in a combo of both points: hearing from you guys that you feel seen in the girlfriends, or that my work cheers you up, that kind of stuff. seeing that y'all relate to the girls is heartbreaking sometimes, especially the ones that have been through the wringer (honestly, they've all been through the wringer, but you know what I mean -- the more anxious, insecure ones) but also it makes me feel like my thoughts are worth writing down and editing and posting, because people will see they're not alone, and can live that distant, "happy" scenario of a character they love helping them through things they're struggling with in real life.

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

that's all I have for now, partially because my brain is fried, but also because if I keep talking about this I'll cry.

just know that I love and cherish each and every one of you, you're nor alone, and our boys love you all too. and the girls (I've been neglecting them lately. oops.) anyway, muah (goodnight kiss). go get some sleep, because I'm not going to anytime soon.

[arklay]

WIP DAY.

tagged by @girlbosselrond @morvaris @aartyom @risingsh0t @phillipsgraves @leviiackrman @indorilnerevarine & @denerims over the past month! sorry it's taken me so long to get to anything at all, i'm sure you guys have heard me address it enough, but thank you all so much for continuing to tag me in things while i've been inactive ♡

tagging @aelyosos @brujah @calenhads @florbelles @jendoe @lightwardens @liurnia @nokstella @nuclearstorms @shadowsofrose @shellibisshe @steelport @swordcoasts @wrymbloods @voerman & all of those who tagged me again cause i'm so behind + anyone else who'd like to share anything they're working on, not just writing! ♡

i haven't written anything since the last wip game i did, but i started trying to put diana's timeline together at the start of january, so i mean... i'll show that instead. as you can see, fatigue hasn't let me do much with it even though i've got all of her timeline already done and strewn about all over the place.

started with 1995 onwards cause it was originally going to be an ewskers timeline situation, but then wanted to include all of her backstory so i went back to the start and still have the late 80s and early 90s to get through before then, but yeah :]

it's going to include like all little moments i've thought of between the ewskers just for me and placing them on the timeline, so you can imagine how long this is going to get if i have to go to 2021 for village... like just 1996-1998 is going to be so much... she's very special to me if you couldn't tell already lmaoo

never sharing this though, it's just for me, and like will help for when i do her timeline page (more in-depth version of what's on her oc page) to just run through canon events and brief descriptions and whatnot. you understand.

everything is blurred out besides 1995 ewskers momence and the years, just cause like idk her i feel weird sharing her in-depth backstory unless it's in dms or something, just cause there's lots going on there and yeah. things. idk

i also made a carrd for twt if you wanna have a look at that :] there's some cheeky subtle things with the two resi items i used as pics hehe

actually, you know what, i'll give a lil bit from where i left of with that rewrite anyways, even though it's been months since i wrote it. but why not

Wesker left a fleeting kiss behind her ear then reached around her and hooked his fingers beneath her coat, prompting Diana to glance back at him. But all he did was gently pull it from her shoulders. She watched him from out of the corner of her eye as he hung it up on the rack by the door, his movements careful and almost calculated, until he turned back towards her, and the warmth of his body returned once more. He pressed up against her side this time, as opposed to her back, and one of his hands found a home on her waist. The way the arm it belonged to was resting firmly against her as he began leading her towards the kitchen was comforting, secure, yet unmistakably possessive. And she revelled in it. He had quite the knack for handling her just the way she wanted.

[laurasinele]

This was written pre S02, for the prompt 4. "Do you even know what this means?" from tumblr's 2023 Fictober fest. I'm trying to finish an outrageously delayed fic exchange and start with this year's Fictober prompt list, so I thoughnt I'd post the few past prompts I wrote last year for a chance at a motivation boost.

Stede Bonnet was nothing if not a performer. Life had dealt him an odd hand, unevenly loaded with privilege and disadvantage. Yet at every turn, Stede strived to do the most of it, adhering to his assigned roles in accordance to their rough definition. He was, or rather he played, a nobleman, a husband, a father… The problem with performance was that —Stede had only known too recently— when you performed a role you were never entirely that person. He had never been a complete nobleman, husband or father. Occasionally he had managed a semblance of it but, deep down, he was still a scaredy child mildly confused with the whole situation. 

Secretly, Stede Bonnet had wanted to be a pirate for a long time now. The characters assigned to him so far always felt awkward both for him and his involuntary audience, so Stede created the opportunity and finally set off to perform a pirate’s role to the best of his ability —and through his non-existent desire to get his hands dirty. However, now that against all odds Blackbeard and his men had joined his crew, Stede realized he had become an actual pirate. And the lack of performance, the true and raw nature of it all, was making him nervous. Consequently, in search of comfort he fell into his old performative habit. The second problem with performance that Stede had unfortunately not yet known, was that when you try to perform that which you already are, there is usually the very real risk of overdoing it. 

“What is that ?”, said loudly Wee John Feeney from the middle of a pile of rope he and Frenchie were tidying up. 

Everyone on deck stopped and stared. They were aware, of course, that there had been yips and yells, and no few thrashing sounds coming from the captain's lodgings a few moments ago. Each one of them had privately attributed it to one or another of Stede Bonnet’s idiosyncrasies and moved on with their chores. However, the unexpected result of those tribulations was now facing them in the form of Stede, flanked by Buttons and Lucius Spriggs, sporting a less formal but equally impractical attire than his usual garb, and a big, heavy, gleaming golden hoop earring with a huge pearl drop hanging from his left earlobe, which was a painful purple-ish red color. 

“What…?”, whispered Black Pete coming to Lucius’ side. 

“Don’t”, shushed Lucius. 

“Hear ye,” called Buttons. “Our capt’n has donned the mark of a true seaman”.

He was loud and firm as usual, but not at all convinced of the words he had definitely been given. Between him and a mortified Lucius, Stede opened his arms and took a wide side-skip forward to let the crew admire his outfit and his pierced ear. Amidst the uncomfortable silence that followed, a single sarcastic laugh gathered everyone’s attention. Izzy Hands had left Blackbeard’s side at starboard and was calmly pacing his way to Stede, a predatory smile in place, punctuating each step with a slow clap of hands.

“You’ve outdone yourself, Bonnet! Do you even know what this means?”, he said, flicking the pearl pendant with his middle finger and getting a pained hiss from Stede. 

“Nobody asked your opinion”, shot back Stede and tried to walk past him raising his hand to get Blackbeard’s attention: “Ed!”

With a firm hand on his sternum, Izzy stopped him, which was something Stede would have expected from him. What he didn’t really expect was a flustered Blackbeard desperately trying to find any place to lay his eyes on that wasn't anywhere near Stede. 

“It’s not an opinion, captain ,” mocked Izzy. “It’s a respectful question”, he said, his toothy smile growing wider. 

“Well”, replied Stede fastidiously, “I am aware that I technically shouldn’t wear this piece because technically I haven’t done it”, to which there was a general murmur of mixed amusement and second-hand embarrassment, “but I reasonably believe we’re right about to do it. Right, Ed?”. 

“Oh, for fucks’ sake”, sighed Lucius. 

At the same time Jim laughed loudly over Olluwande’s hand covering their mouth, and Blackbeard fidgeted in his place, fighting the urge to either run to Stede and shut him up or jump overboard. 

“What is this attitude?”, claimed Stede, audibly offended by his crew's behavior. “Are we or are we not about to pass Cape Horn?”

“Oh, so that’s what he thinks it is!”, exclaimed Black Pete with no small measure of relief. 

“Well, he is not wrong”, said Frenchie, nudging Wee John.

“Only a couple decades late”, the other snickered.

Izzy hands was cackling in his ragged voice, delighted with yet another opportunity to be mean to Stede. 

“You colossal twat! That is not what that earring means! Nobody cares which route you travel anymore. The only thing that matters is whether you give”, he said pointing the stud on his right ear, “or you take”, he finished, flicking again Stede’s loop just to hear him complain. 

“Ow!” Stede cried, covering his ear with his hand defensively.

“You even added a pearl drop, you nitwit. Can’t you be more desperately obvious?”, said Izzy disdainfully. 

“What on earth are you talking about?”, demanded Stede, more annoyed than self-conscious at the lack of the admiration he had anticipated and the abundance of something everybody seemed to be in on except for himself. 

“Everybody shut up!” croaked Blackbeard, dashing to Stede’s side with hurried strides. Once there, he gestured vaguely and rapidly at the whole frilly, lacy, shiny and supposedly pirate-y attire, looking like he was about to tell Stede off on it. Finally, he grunted in frustration with his mouth around his own knuckles, grabbed Stede’s hand and dragged him to the captain’s cabin stomping and mumbling:

 “I’ll fucking tell you what they’re fucking talking about, fucking oblivious Gentelman Pirate!”

[shahronak47]

One more chance before I hate you.

In the last year, I can remember 3 instances where people screwed up and were on the receiving end of online hate and trolling.

Jocelyn Chia - She is a stand-up comedian and cracked up a joke about the disappeared flight MH370 which was very insensitive to the victims and their families.

Pushpal Roy - An HDFC bank manager who was recorded abusing junior employees for not reaching their sales target.

Cameroon Green - Australian cricketer who took a controversial catch of Shubman Gill in the final of WTC between India vs Australia.

Now these are just recent examples off the top of my head, I am sure every day some people screw up and receive online hate. I read about this stuff on social media and go through the comments that people post. For example, Jocelyn is a Singaporean-born and one of the comments was "Jocelyn does not represent us Singaporeans. She represents her family and her upbringing". More comments were worse than this. Going through these comments I felt bad. Do we really know her family values and her upbringing? I am in no way defending what she said. Whatever she said was definitely wrong and insensitive but what my point is do we really need to stoop this low to make someone feel so bad about their act? For all that we know her parents must be the most sensitive people and they truly feel sorry for what she said. Or Jocelyn herself is very sensitive but this one joke is what she did not thought it through. She did not know that it could hurt people the way it did. I mean this has happened to me so many times when I say something in a group and then later thinking about it I regret what I said.

Same with Pushpal Roy. Few people didn't find him online so were commenting on HDFC's page about him. Obviously, what he did and how he spoke to his colleagues is not appreciated and should not be tolerated but what if this is 3rd time he is telling them and they are still making the same mistake? Do we know the back and forth of the story? We see one side of the coin, make our instant judgments, and share our thoughts in a very insensitive way.

In this age of social media, no one has time but everyone has an opinion. They don't have time to research things, try to understand the issue to its core, form an opinion, and then post it online. They see an incident in isolation and immediately start spewing venom. Since we do no research on our own, a lot of our opinions are dependent on how the post is written.

Consider these two headlines,

"Monster on the Streets: Ruthless Murderer Kills Own Boss!" and "Tragic Homicide Occurs: Individual Involved in Fatal Incident with Former Employer"

Reading the first headline you have already labeled the murderer as a villain without understanding the situation. The second headline is at least a bit balanced. It encourages you to read more and find out what was the actual situation. Why the employee had to kill his own boss. Imagine we scrolling through our social media feed, read the first headline and within 10 seconds we find ourselves commenting on the post "This person should be hanged. He has no right to live. What an inhuman creature. ". No time to think or reflect. The worst case is when the news headline mentions the race or religion of the person who has done this. "Ruthless Asian Murderer...." or "Ruthless Muslim Murderer...." or "Ruthless Hindu Murderer...." and again we as "innocent" social media consumers would fall for it. Some would get all riled up and add a hate comment on the post for the community, and someone would do nothing but in their mind make a point about how a member of a particular community did this heinous act.

Now there are a lot of wrongs here. It is a fact that someone killed someone. Why they killed some person is secondary but killing someone is wrong. It is wrong that the article wrote a sensationalized headline for more views/likes or whatever and it is also wrong that we get angry about this immediately just after reading the headline and without understanding the complete picture. So yes, there are a lot of wrongs but which of these wrongs can we control? Which of these wrongs can we change? Can we take a break before forming our opinions? Can we give some time to understand the situation completely?

Can we give that person one more chance before we start hating that person for what they did which may or may not impact us? Maybe it was just in the heat of the moment, maybe they were weak for that 10 seconds when they committed the mistake. Can we allow them to be a human who makes mistakes and not behave in a way that we have never done anything wrong?

Can we just take a deep breath before we say or post anything?

[evelhak]

Anime ask please!!!

1, 9, 27

Thank you so much Eve 💕

Thanks, V. :) I'd be glad to ask you something too, but no pressure.

1. First anime that I remember watching was Versailles no bara, or "Lady Oscar" as it was translated. It fundamentally affected me as a person. I had never connected to any cartoon in the same way before, it was love at first sight and made me irreversibly an anime fan right off the bat. I was mesmerized. I wanted to be Oscar. Which is no wonder, I mean, the trans, and I think from my view even specifically nonbinary vibes are through the roof. Of course, I wouldn't realize that until years later. But I think it's such an amazing story because depending on how you look at it, it has the potential to be relatable or an inspiration to pretty much any trans person (and definitely other queer people as well). Obviously it's a product of its time and has its shortcomings, but it made me positively elated when I was an eight-year-old, and after that too to be honest. It sparked a lot more questions for me than it answered about Oscar and at the same time the world. So, the premise is "a girl raised as a boy" and even as a child I never felt like it answered whether this fate was a freedom or a cage for Oscar. Later, I've answered that question to myself as "both" because it doesn't even matter what gender identity Oscar actually has, because so much of the story is about gender roles, and those have the potential to be both a cage and a freedom to everyone despite of gender and whether they are trans or cis. I think this early experience granted me the freedom to feel like I can explore these themes in my own writing, and I still find myself doing it a lot, because both gender identity and gender roles are such interesting topics to me. Haha, the last side story I wrote in my KnB fic series even happens to be inspired by a scenario similar to this anime's, although my inspiration for it specifically was the medieval French poem "Silence" instead. But yes, this anime affects me greatly even today.

9. Favourite anime child... I guess this means literally a child character. I'm honestly not that interested in child characters. I would have said Yotsuba, because she's freaking hilarious, but there's no anime of that manga, so... hmm. Well, Sakura from Card Captor Sakura, maybe? She's ten at the start if I remember correctly. I like her attitude, and she falls in the realm of characters I tend to like for many reasons. I have a soft spot for characters who are smart because they are simple, in a sense. Also, characters who are energetic but not in an erratic, annoying way. Characters who are focused and live in the present. Characters with kick ass athletic abilities who are still surprisingly clumsy and get in funny situations because of it. I kind of relate to her friend Tomoyo's perspective, I totally get why she's charming.

27. Anime I plan to watch in the future... Maybe Beastars? My sister recommended it, which means it's about a 50% chance that I'll actually enjoy it, or that it's a sensory nightmare that bounces from idea to idea, being simultaneously overstimulating for my senses and understimulating for me mentally. Which is the reason I haven't watched a lot of anime in recent years, there just seems to be a lot of hectic stuff around that goes broad rather than deep. I plan to rewatch a lot of old favourites though, like Kaleido Star and Princess Tutu, which I already mentioned to you, V. Oh, and I plan to keep up with Jujutsu Kaisen. Not enough of a fan to read the manga (which I usually do first) but it's interesting enough to watch, and one of the only shonen anime I've seen with actually good female characters, so, that's why I'm going to keep watching it.

[anotherhumaninthisworld]

If I understand Terror! The French Revolution and its Demons (2021) correctly, it’s true the word had a positive connotation during the Ancien Regime. Terror was one of the means used by God and the king to secure sanction/security. The term was also used in the medical square with the idea that recours to the curative powers attributed to terror could solve the crisis stage of an illness. Edmund Burke wrote in 1757 that ”the sensation of terror hightened all emotions,” an intensity which could be either positive or negative depending on the situation. When witnessing the power and grandeur of a natural phenomena, such as mountains and oceans, one could feel both terror and an ecstatic awe (Brissot himself actually wrote in his memoirs about ”the soft emotion” of terror that wild and gloomy nature inspired in him). But there were risks involved too — a close and threatened person experiencing terror could die of overwhelming fear. Terror had thus multiple meanings at the eve of the revolution, and while some were negative — such as the terror weilded by despotic monarchies — the majority were positive and had salutary, cathartic and transformative connotations. All meanings were, in one way or the other, about power and it’s lack — weilding terror made you feel powerful, suffering under terror made you feel weak and powerless. Using a ”language of terror” was to intimidate the enemy and make one’s own people feel safer as a consequence.

At the time of the revolution, terror was still a term that often had a positive connotation attached to it. For example, at the eve of the September Massacres, Roland said he linked the birth of the republic with ”the terror of all the traitors” and an alliance of ”all friends of the country.” When voting for the death of the king in January 1793, the deputy Sergent exclaimed: ”A king’s head only falls with a crash, and his torments inspire healthy terror.” Half a year later, Le Moniteur wrote that ”the French victory near Arlon had truly instilled terror in the area.”

However, statements like these were also being balanced out by others where the word ”terror” was used as something negative. As the struggle between the Montagnards and the Girondins deepened, both sides accused the other of employing ”terror” against them. In October 1792 Marat accused Rouyer of having made threats with the intention of ”keeping him away through terror.” Two weeks later, Louvet accused Robespierre and Marat of being ”ringleaders of a dissenting faction, escorted by terror.” The next year, the Girondin Vergniaud said: ”people have sought to bring about the revolution through terror, I would have liked to bring it about through love.” In a speech by Barère about rumours of troubles near Meaux we find the following sentence: ”sounds of terror sown in the countryside to frighten the imagination of citizens, causing commotion or trouble.” So we see here that the idea of terror as a negative term existed already before thermidor.

As for Robespierre’s speech, I think it’s worth pointing out that, right after the part that you cited, he says this:

”It was said that terror is the spring of despotic government. Does yours then ressemble a despotism?”

This would imply terror actually has a negative connotation for Robespierre, not inherently, but if placed in the wrong hands. When searching for the term terreur in speeches/interventions held by Robespierre during his last year alive, I find the use of it as something negative 15 times, and as something positive 11 times, it’s very even. So, if it can be said that under the Ancien régime, terror mostly had a positive connotation, during the revolution the term might be best understood as a tool that can be used by everyone — positive when it’s used by me, negative when it’s used by my my enemies — rather than as something that it is inherently good/bad.

“The French Revolution gave terror a bad name. This is not a facetious statement. For many centuries prior to the Revolution the word "terror" had largely positive connotations… The word was reminiscent of power, legitimacy and glory, and it had something sacred about it.

All that changed very quickly. What had happened to provoke this stunning cultural transformation? Following the fall of Robespierre on July 27, 1794 (9 Thermidor) his adversaries used the term to discredit him and his allies, and quickly the word came to indicate a period of tyranny. Within weeks the words terrorisme and terroriste were coined.”

From A Genealogy of Terror in Eighteen-Century France, by Ronald Schechter, 2018

[unattainablesillygoose]

♡ I'm Sorry For All Of The Times That I Ignored You

Harry x Hermione, only, they developed a relationship in year 6 when Ron and Ginny started dating other people

Chapter summary: Harry's definitely not in love with his best friend, where'd you get that idea? 🙄🤚

Part One: ♡ All Along It Was You ♡ , Part Three: ♡ I Can’t Imagine A Moment To Be Without You

Ps. Ignore the timeline pls

You get a nickel for every "withdrawal" you find.

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Harry shut his eyes and exhaled deeply, trying not to be annoyed by how loud his dormmate's were currently being.

It'd been a long week of avoiding public situations with Slughorn, where the latter could parade him around as his famous protégé. Long quidditch practices as a result. No one seemed to mind those, though. For the most part all of his teammates love practice, especially Ginny, and some even knew why he scheduled them when he did and agreed with him.

He saw Dean laughing boisterously with the other boys about some new Weasley's Wizard Wheezes product. He didn't seem as broken up about how their relationship was going as Ginny is. Speaking of; he'd gotten to talk to her more as a result of her and Dean's withering relationship, which if he's honest was probably never going to last if he was too insecure to let her talk to other guys, especially considering how headstrong Ginny is.

But, oddly enough, Harry didn't see that side of her unless he saw her with her friends or during quidditch practices and matches. For the most part, she's quiet around him. He'd thought maybe she had a crush on him, too, and it gave him hope for a minute.

But, he'd overheard her and her friends talking... and he really didn't mean to eavesdrop, but they'd said his name and he was admittedly curious. Mostly about how people talk about him when he's not around, but also what Ginny would say about it.

All he'd heard them talk about before he'd left was things the tabloids and false-biographies wrote about him. He'd gathered enough to suspect it's a celebrity crush. She just has the luck and opportunity to cash in on it.

And the more he thought about it over the week, the more he realized she never actually talked to him, about anything. Anything except what he was asked by everyone else.

Not things like what his favorite color is, or his favorite season, or what his hobbies are, etc. These are a few of the things Hermione asked when they first met.

"I already read all about you. Tell me something they didn't write."

"Like what?"

"I don't know... how about your favorite color?"

She, other than Ron who was also guilty of a little bit of starstruck questioning, was one of the only other people that asked him about himself.

Honestly, why would he know anything about the night his parents were murdered? He was an infant! And his relatives are... something else, they'd never tell him anything. And he's lucky to even get a straight answer from anybody regarding his parents.

Basically, he wonders how many people actually like him versus those who are fans, if one could call them that. He doesn't understand the hype. He's also wondering if he was attracted to the attention or to Ginny. He never really got any attention like that usually, so if he swallowed down his pride, he could admit that it was probably the former. Hermione would definitely agree that it was the attention that he liked.

He often found his mind wandering to Hermione throughout the week. They hadn't seen much of each other outside classes and meals, and in passing. He wonders sometimes what it would feel like if Hermione payed him that kind of attention. Obviously not the fangirl type, he doesn't think he'd survive it if she thought of him like that. But the other way, the more... affectionate way.

"You going through withdrawals?" Seamus joked, pulling Harry from his head.

"What?" He asked. He didn't take anything...

"From Hermione." Seamus elaborated, as if it's the most obvious conclusion.

"Can you even have withdrawals from someone?" Dean asked.

"Sure. Ron has withdrawals from Lavender every time they're apart for longer than a class period. Quite annoying, really." Seamus deadpanned.

"I do not!" Ron argued.

Harry wasn't in the mood to hear them bicker, but at least he didn't have to answer-

"So Harry?" Seamus asked again.

Damn.

"Why would I be having withdrawals from Hermione?" Harry said, deciding that deflecting was the best course.

"Um, because you're always together?" Neville piped up.

Harry leveled him with a 'not you too' glare. Neville just shrugged.

"Well, yeah, we're best friends. We're always with Ron too." Harry said.

"Mmm, that's different." Seamus hummed.

"How is it different?" Harry asked confused.

"When you're in a group setting, it's different hanging out with girls." Neville said.

"Yeah, I gotta agree there. It's different when I'm with Lavender than with you and Hermione." Ron agreed.

"But Hermione and I-" Harry started to argue.

"If you say 'just friends' one more time..." Seamus said, closing his eyes as he sighed.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry asked.

"You two have a different bond than you guys do with Ron, no offense buddy." Neville said.

"Nah, that's true." Ron nodded.

"You guys are just closer. You have the type of bond where you don't even have to talk, you can just exchange glances and know what the other’s thinking." Seamus further elaborated.

"Okay...?" Harry narrowed his eyes, he wasn't sure he liked where this new line of conversation was going.

"Like last week, when Ron and Lavender joined us for breakfast instead of eating on their own. You and Hermione were kind of quiet, and when you looked over at her you read her perfectly. Don't think we didn't catch how you held her hand under the table." Seamus said quickly.

"Wait what." Ron's head snapped to Harry.

"She was upset about the fight the two of you had. I was comforting her the best way I knew how in a crowded setting. And she isn't a fan of public displays of affection, so I improvised." Harry defended himself.

"Not when it comes to you." Ron said. He didn't sound hurt, though, or even jealous. He sounded like he thought Harry knew what everyone else seemed to know, he sounded obvious.

"When what comes to me?" Harry asked.

"Mate. When she was un-petrified in second year, she literally ran to hug you. You were the first person she went to." Ron said as an example, "And after that summer that we weren't allowed to write to you, she was incredibly worried, and almost went against Dumbledore and wrote to you anyways. She never sent them, though. And she almost knocked you over when she saw you walk through the door. Oh, and remember the time Skeeter wrote about you and Hermione 'young and in love' fourth year?" He continued.

"Alright, I get it." Harry huffed, "Where is all this coming from? You guys have never been this interested in me and Hermione before."

"It's becoming painful." Seamus deadpanned.

"What is?" Harry asked, resisting every urge to roll his eyes at his friends.

"You guys are so oblivious, it hurts to watch at this point." Neville said.

"Even Ron has noticed what we're talking about!" Seamus exclaimed.

Harry looked over to Ron, disbelieving, only to see a wince.

"I mean..." Ron said, "The amount of times we've been asked by younger students if you guys are dating or not is a lot. I've lost count at this point."

"Maybe we're just really close best friends." Harry reasoned.

"Really close." Seamus smirked.

This time Harry didn't hold back and visibly rolled his eyes.

"You can't honestly tell us that you strictly think of Hermione platonically." Dean said.

"I honestly do not know where you guys are getting any of this." Harry said with a blank face.

"She's pretty, isn't she?" Neville asked.

"Well, yeah." Harry shrugged.

"You answered that pretty quickly." Seamus said with narrowed eyes.

"Because she is." Harry deadpanned. "She's always been pretty."

"Not everyone used to think so." Seamus responded.

"Why?" Harry asked, genuinely confused.

"Well a lot of the other girls said her hair was 'bushy'." Neville said, air quoting the last word.

"Because her hair is curly? That's not 'bushy', her hair just has a lot of volume." Harry said.

"They called her a 'know-it-all' and a 'boot kisser'. Honest to God, I did not know what that last one meant when I first heard it." Seamus said.

"Okay, I detest the second, but she's not a know-it-all. She knows a little bit about everything because she loves to read. And she cares about her studies and wants to make her parents proud." Harry argued.

"Awe." Seamus hummed.

"Point is," Neville cut him off, "you obviously know her better than anyone else."

"Ron knows these things." Harry said defensively.

"Well, yeah, I know she likes to read. I mean she always has a book. And I know that she knows a little bit of everything because she's smart. But honestly, I didn't know her hair was naturally curly." Ron answered.

"But she's always had curly hair." Harry said confused.

"I just thought she curled it." Ron shrugged.

"Yeah, I'm gonna be honest," Seamus butted in, "I have no idea how to tell the difference between natural and ironed curls."

"I don't think she curled her hair with a curling iron when she was 11." Harry responded doubtfully.

"I think we're getting off topic." Neville interrupted.

"I'm not even sure what that topic is!" Harry exclaimed exasperatedly.

"You and Hermione!" Seamus sighed dramatically.

"But there is no-"

"Yes there is." Ron, Neville and Seamus said simultaneously, interrupting Harry.

Harry exhaled roughly, closing his eyes and laying back on his bed, sprawling out.

"Why are you so adamant that there is no you and Hermione?" Dean asked, done with watching the four go back and forth amusedly.

"Because." He shrugged, eyes still closed.

"Because..." Dean egged him on, all four boys leaning in anticipated.

"It's never been an option. She's my best friend." Harry responded.

"Why does that mean it's not an option?" Neville asked curiously.

Harry sat up, "Because I can't lose her if it ends badly."

"Who said it'll end at all?" Seamus said.

Ron spoke up before Harry could respond, "Mate, I've known you both long enough to know that you both always give your all, in anything you guys do. You aren't the types that wouldn't put the work into a relationship and let it wither. If something happened or something was wrong, you'd talk it out. You've always been better at that with Hermione than I have. And like Seamus said earlier, you guys know each other well enough to communicate via facial expressions. You knew what Hermione needed when she was upset. I honestly don't think there's anything that could break you two apart."

Harry contemplated silently.

"That was really heartfelt, mate, truly." Seamus said, attempting seriousness.

Dean smacked him upside the head. "Ow!" Seamus whispered harshly. Neville gave them both the "cut it out" signal, and Ron rolled his eyes.

Harry didn't notice any of it. He was trying to work out the difference between romantic and platonic feelings in his head, and applying it to Hermione to see which one fit. He was confused, how could they still be best friends if they became romantically involved?

"You know," Seamus started hesitantly, "my mum and dad are best friends."

Harry looked up confused, raising a brow.

"They fell in love while in Hogwarts, but they were friends first. They're still each other's best friend, even after marriage and a child." He continued.

"My dad always says my mum is his best friend. My mum always tells us that friendship is the best foundation for love. That just like a tree, it needs a seed to grow." Ron said.

"You can love someone and still be their best friend?" Harry asked.

"My Nan always tells me that my parents were like that. 'Closest confidante', that's what she says." Neville answered.

Harry looked to his nightstand, to the enchanted picture of his parents dancing in the autumn wind, leaves swirling around them. They didn't look at the camera, or whoever held it, they were entranced by each other. Smiling and laughing at something, but they still only looked fondly into the other's eyes. In their own little world.

He thought about it more, faintly registering Seamus saying something, then Dean smacking him and Ron and Neville butting in. Obviously an argument ensued. Harry supposed there was only so much seriousness boys could take. He didn't mind, though.

Harry laid back on his bed again, legs outstretched and his hands folded on his chest, looking up at the canopy above his bed.

He couldn't imagine what his life would be like without Hermione. Ron either, but still.

He tried to imagine what he'd feel if he saw her with another boy. Maybe sitting a little too close, his hands wandering a little lower than Harry would deem publicly appropriate. Maybe he's kissing her. They're laughing at something, and Harry's reminded of how beautiful her laugh is, how pretty she is when she smiles.

He feels like his stomach is filled with stones when he thinks of it. Of not being the one to make her smile and laugh. Of another boy touching her and kissing her. It makes his chest ache and his stomach twist uncomfortably. It makes him angry and sad simultaneously. It makes him want to go over and-

He realizes then that maybe his friends are right.

He doesn't like the idea of her with another guy. He realizes that the icky feeling in his chest and his gut is jealousy. He's never really had any issues before because they're always side by side. They're always together. That's how he likes it. He doesn't like being away from her, he doesn't like keeping anything from her, and he doesn't like thinking of a future without her.

He can't imagine a future where they're not together. Romantic or platonic.

And he can't imagine himself being with anyone else. He realizes he doesn't want to be with anyone else.

He closes his eyes and sighs.

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Omg I'm so sorry for the delay 😢

it was so hard to find a way for Harry to realize he l Hermione that made sense to me. I think this is good, probably not my best dialogue but eh 🤷‍♀️ I'm happy with it :)

Part three coming soon! ;)

[watchmegetobsessed]

THE DEAL

a/n: i literally wrote it in less than a day because i was inspired by a movie... of god, i have issues, but ANYWAYS! this one is a classic friends with benefits to lovers story with so much angst and a grandiose love confession at the end so buckle up, you are in for a treat!! PLEASE PLEASE PLEEEEASE give feedback if you enjoyed it!!

pairing: Harry X Reader

warnings: some, drinking, sexual content, a hell lot of it, angst and messy emotions, it’s a lot!!

word count: 11.8k

masterlist

If your life was some romantic comedy his would be the moment where the camera would zoom on you, your eyes blankly glued to the ceiling, makeup from last night smudged under them as a muscular, inked arm gets thrown across your chest, a snoozing man beside you as you have the internal little monologue.

“You’re wondering how I got into this situation, right? Completely naked with one of my best friends after a night spent with heavy drinking and ending up fucking in his apartment until we both fell asleep.”

Yeah, this is probably what the voiceover would say as the camera would slowly get farther from you, Harry’s sleeping figure coming into the frame while you’re still lying like a damn statue. This was not supposed to happen. Not that it was bad, because oh God! Harry really is as good as his ex-girlfriends gushed to you when you met them on night outs. You could never blame the women for falling for him, he has the charm, the personality, the humor and definitely the looks. If you weren’t you, you’d be one of those girls who would do anything to get his attention just for a split second. But you’re not.

Growing up with a single mother that was repeatedly fucked over by several men, you were taught to be the kind of independent woman who needs no man. Who only uses them for whatever reason and throws them away before they could even realize what’s happening. Feelings could never be involved in the equations, those are just not for you.

For a while you thought you weren’t even capable of feeling anything at all. But the way you cried when your hamster you got for your sixteenth birthday died changed your mind and you realized that you are just saving yourself the time of allowing people to make you develop feelings for them and then give them the chance to break your heart. You’ve seen that happen to your mother enough times to know that you don’t want to go through that. It’s not worth it and why would you risk it all when you could easily get what you need and move on to the next one?

Your friends always joked how you’re gonna be the single aunt to their children later who would take them to clubs and honestly? You’re just fine with that. Because you always thought that while your married friends will be busy with keeping their marriage together with whatever pathetic man they chose to marry, you’ll be living your best life without a worry on the world. That sounds pretty good for you.

There’s no need to make it prettier than what it is, you’ve had a lot of hookups the past years but you always tried to keep yourself in check, have some kind of rules to follow so you don’t hurt yourself or anyone else in the process. One of those were that under no circumstances would you ever sleep with a friend. No matter how badly you want to, no matter if they are begging, it can never happen.

But you broke that rule.

Turning your head to the side you look at Harry’s sleeping face squished into the pillow and you almost wince, because you know that when he wakes up, this gonna hurt like a bitch. He’s gonna freak out, or what’s worse, he’ll want to take it further, take you out on a date… be in a relationship with you! And you’ll have to break his heart because none of those will ever happen.

You and Harry went to high school together and he is one of the very few people you stayed in touch after graduation. Though you grew a little apart when you went to different universities, later on you both somehow ended up in New York and while you’re working as a graphic designer at a magazine, Harry is making good money from writing music for other artists. He’s been one of your closest friends these past years and while you’ve always found him attractive, you should have never let this happen, because it will mess everything up and you didn’t want to lose such a good friend.

Harry stirs in his sleep next to you, his hand squeezing your side before his eyes blink open, green irises finding your wide eyes. He stops for a moment, looking around, taking in his surroundings before his eyes fall closed again.

“Wow, must have been one wild night?” he mumbles into the pillow before a raspy chuckle falls from his lips.

Last night, the two of you and a couple of your mutual friends celebrated that Harry has gotten his biggest deal so far, having to write an entire album for an up-and-coming artist, so you all got pretty wasted, especially you and him. It’s a little blurry how the two of you ended up like this, but you do remember wildly making out hidden somewhere behind the bar before he asked if you wanted to come to his place. You stupid little thing, should have said no…

Groaning, Harry rolls to his back, his arm falling from you as he lies sprawled out next to you.

“The tequila shots. Shouldn’t have had them,” you rasp out, a smirk tugging on his lips at your words. “So, um… we both can agree this was a one time thing, right?”

Harry peeks at you, pushing himself up a bit so his head rests against the headboard. The sheets slide down a bit lower on his body, revealing his toned chest and his several tattoos. Memories of you kissing them eagerly last night flash into your mind and you can only hope you’re not blushing like a school girl.

“What if I don’t agree?” Harry cocks an eyebrow and you almost groan. You knew this was going to happen!

“Harry, I’m not going out with you. You know me, I don’t do that. It’s nice that you think that it could work between us, but I don’t do relationships and I’m not changing my rules, not even for you.”

Harry starts laughing, as if you just said the best joke of the century, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. You give him a puzzled look as you sit up, holding the sheets to your chest.

“Who talked about dating, Y/N?” he then asks. “You said last night was a one time thing. We fucked last night. What if that wasn’t the only time we did that?”

You start to put the pieces together, though you’d definitely be sharper if you already had your first coffee of the day.

“Are you trying to start a… friends with benefits thing with me?”

“I mean, you could call it whatever you want. I personally really enjoyed last night and judging from the way you were screaming my name, you did too.” Now you’re for sure blushing. “Why not do it again?”

“This is not a movie, H. I don’t think it’s manageable without ruining our friendship.”

“Have you ever tried something like this?” You shake your head no. “Then how could you know?”

“Have you tried it?”

“Never,” he chuckles. “But that doesn’t mean I’m wrong. We are both cool, smart people. I think we can give it a try and whenever someone is feeling like they had enough, we’re just gonna stop.”

“What if you catch feelings?” you ask, raising eyebrows at him.

“Oh, but what if you fall for me?” he throws the question back with a cocky smirk and you smack his naked chest.

“You know I never do that!”

“I don’t think you can just decide that, but alright,” he chuckles, holding his hands up in defense. “I promise you I won’t catch feelings for you, Y/N. I swear on my…”

“Your mom’s and sister’s life!” you point at him. It’s clear that he thinks it’s silly, but you just keep staring at him until he gives in.

“I swear on my mum’s and my sister’s life that I will not catch feelings for you, Y/N.”

“Alright. And we can end it anytime?”

“Whenever you’ve had enough of me,” he smirks back, so pleased with himself that it’s clear he doesn’t think that could ever happen.

“If you keep that cocky look on your face it’s gonna be a very short deal, Styles,” you warn him, but he just laughs before he quickly pulls you back down to bed, getting on top of you, his hips sinking between your legs and you gasp when you feel that he is already semi-hard.

“Why don’t we get a head start on it then?” he offers, his lips crashing against yours before they travel down your body and soon enough he gives you something that’s a thousand times better than a coffee in the morning.

At first you’re clearly hesitant about it. Not sure if it was a good idea or you just ruined everything between you and Harry, but soon enough you realize that it wasn’t as bad of a decision as you thought it to be.

Harry is the one to call you for the first time, two days after the night you drunkenly hooked up. You’re just leaving the office when he hits you up, asking if you have plans for the night or you’re free to go over to his place. An hour later you find yourself pressed up against the wall of his apartment’s hallway, both of you eager to get each other out of your clothes. Now that it all happens without either of you being drunk, you actually have the chance to think about how good it is with him. He is just the perfect mixture of dominant and soft, knows when to be the boss and when he has to slow down a bit.

He makes you cum three times. Three mind-blowing times, and you also give him two orgasms. You try to make it equal and make it three, but he respectfully says no.

“If you touched my dick again I think I would start crying,” he chuckles jokingly, so you don’t even think about pushing it.

Instead, the two of you order Chinese, have dinner together, talking like you always used to before the deal and then you go home. There’s no awkwardness, no weird situations, not even when you leave. Harry leans closer and for a moment you think he is gonna be corny and kiss you goodbye, but then you feel him smack your ass before pushing you out the door, just like he always did before, joking about how he is gonna charge you rent if you stay any longer.

Nothing has changed, only that you now spend a good chunk of your time together naked, moaning each other’s name before you get back to your usual.

So after that you don’t shy away from reaching out to Harry as well. It becomes a regular thing, the two of you meeting up about two of three times a week. You fuck, hang out a bit and go your separate ways. Slowly, you start to forget about times when you stayed dressed up for more than ten minutes after meeting Harry.

You keep switching between your and his place, but sometimes meet somewhere in the middle. You’ve had sex in a restaurant bathroom, in his car in a parking garage and even in his cousin’s place in Brooklyn. That was a bit odd but still quite pleasing.

Tonight is going to be the first time you’re gonna be out with all your friends and Harry since the deal was made. No one knows about it and you intend to keep it that way.

Once you’re done at work you head home, texting Leticia, another friend from high school to meet you at your place to get ready together. She was Harry’s friend at first, what’s better, she openly hated you at first for some reason.

“You just had a punchable face at fifteen, you can’t blame me,” she used to tell you. It was actually Harry who made the two of you friends and you’ve been close ever since.

You get to your apartment almost at the same time. Leticia starts rambling about her asshole of a boss at the law firm where she works at as you open a bottle of wine to start the evening while you roam through your wardrobe for an outfit.

“Is Leo coming? I owe him a few bucks from last time,” Leticia wonders, digging into your dresser for a pair of tights she can borrow to pair with her leather skirt.

“I think he is, but he is going to be late. He is coming from Staten Island from his dad’s,” you muse, checking yourself out in the red dress you just tried on, not quite pleased with the look, so you quickly work down the zipper and look for something else.

“Um, whose is this?”

Turning around you see that Leticia is holding up a shirt Harry left at yours a few days ago. She is clearly confused about the men’s clothing between your stuff, because you are not one to steal them from the men you sleep with since you don’t really want anything from them to remind you of them.

“Oh, um, that’s… That’s Harry’s. He left it here a few days ago,” you shrug, not making a big deal out of it, but Leticia is nosier than that.

“And why is Harry leaving his clothes around your place?”

“Is that a crime?” you snort, trying to play it cool.

“No, but in what kind of situation did this shirt come off of Harry and end up in your dresser?”

You can’t think of a good answer that would stop her from interrogating you, and the way you’ve just gotten silent is telling her more than words could. She drops the shirt, eyes widening at you and it’s clear that she put two and two together.

“Oh my God! You’re sleeping with Harry!”

“No! I’m… I just—We…”

“You two are totally fucking! What the fuck!” she gasps in complete shock as you pinch the bridge of your nose.

“Let me explain it, alright? W-We hooked up on the night when we went out to celebrate his big album deal.”

“When I couldn’t go, right?”

“Yeah. So we were both very drunk and it just happened. And I really thought it would ruin everything but we somehow ended up making a deal.”

“Jesus, you guys are acting out the Friends With Benefits movie? Who are you, Mila fucking Kunis?”

“It’s not like that!” you defend yourself quickly, but then you realize that it’s just like that so far. “Well, it kind of is, but the ending won’t be like that.”

“Do you really think you can just do it with absolutely no strings?” Leticia sighs, her hands coming to her hips as she stares back at you.

“It’s been going great, so I really think it’s doable. And if any of us decides they had enough, we’ll just call it quits.”

“Yeah, because it’s that easy,” she rolls her eyes. “One of you will catch feelings and someone is gonna end up crying, Y/N.”

“No, that’s not gonna happen,” you shake your head stubbornly. “He promised it won’t happen.”

“Feelings don’t give a shit about promises! I hope you really know what you’re doing, because I don’t want to have to choose between the two of you,” she grumbles before throwing Harry’s shirt back into the drawer, grabbing the tights she’s been looking for.

Leticia doesn’t hold a grudge for the news she just found out, but she surely has gotten you thinking. Is it really gonna end bad? Why can’t there be a scenario where it goes perfectly fine and no one gets hurt? Harry promised it’s gonna be alright and he has been proven right so far, so why are you having second guesses now?

Arriving at the bar the majority of your friend group is already there, including Harry. You sit across him in the small booth, just exchanging a quick smile before the first round arrives and the evening starts. You allow yourself to take a better look at him while he listens to Mitch’s story and you can’t say that you don’t find him hot. He is wearing a vintage, floral printed shirt, the first few buttons left undone, so you have a nice view of his chest and his necklace you’ve felt under your lips so many times before when you were kissing down his body. He keeps twisting and playing with his several rings and it makes you stare at his hands for a tad bit longer than you intended to. God, he looks so damn good, you really just want to fuck him here and now.

You keep changing who goes up to the bar to order and the third round is yours, so sliding out of the booth you go to the bar and wait for your turn. A young, handsome guy is making the drinks and you clearly catch his eyes.

“And what can I get for you, beautiful?” he smirks at you when it’s finally your turn.

“Two vodka sodas, a martini and three vodka cranberries,” you smile back at him with a hint of flirting in your tone.

It’s kind of second nature to you, a few charming smiles and winks have gotten a lot of free things for you in your life and you never miss a chance to use your advances.

“All that for one pretty girl?” he teases you.

“I would be all over the floor if I drank all of it,” you chuckle, pulling your card out of your wallet, tapping it on the terminal as he finishes up the drinks, kindly putting them on a tray so you can easily bring them over to the booth.

“Don’t worry, I would surely pick you up then,” he winks at you, placing the last drink to the tray before you thank him and head back.

As you take your previous seat you notice that Harry is watching you intently.

“What?” you mouth him over the conversation at the table.

“Nothing,” he shakes his head, turning his gaze away, grabbing his drink and focusing back on everyone else.

You go up to the bar two more times, once to ask for some chips and once for some napkins after a drink has gotten spilt onto the table. Every time you exchange a few words with the bartender and you have to admit, he has a great sense of humor paired with his looks.

Sometime later in the evening you decide to switch to water, so you go up to the bar a fourth time, the bartender coming to you right away at this point. As you wait for him to grab you your drink you feel a hand on your lower back. Turning to the side you see Harry standing next to you.

“Hey, want to come to my place after this?” he asks, leaning closer to your ear. His hot breath hits your exposed skin on your neck and a shudder runs down your spine, especially with his hand still on the small of your back.

“You want a rerun of your first time?” you smirk back at him, referring to the drinks you both have had, though it’s definitely not as wild as that night was.

“No, but this dress is making it hard not to want to rip it off,” he bluntly tells you as you glance down at yourself. At last you decided to wear a black bodycon dress that surely shows every dip and curve of your body and apparently Harry has been enjoying the show.

The bartender arrives with your water, his eyes falling on Harry and you see that he is a little taken aback by his presence.

“Hey man, can you get me another one as well? I’ll pay for both,” Harry nods at him and there’s something foreign in his tone that you can’t really put your finger on. The bartender just nods back and goes to grab another water.

“What if I wasn’t in the mood?” you tease him, continuing the discussion where you left it a moment ago.

“Oh, please!” he chuckles smugly. “I saw you eyeing me from across the table, Y/N. I know you are definitely in the mood.”

He is right. So damn right. You’ve been crossing your legs under the table for a while now, feeling your arousal growing every time you saw him run his tongue over his lips or whenever his finger played with the lip of his glass, imagining him doing the same with your body.

Biting into your bottom lip you need to take a deep breath, but when Harry sees your teeth digging into your lip, he loses his patience.

“Or we can just do it now,” he growls lowly, grabbing your hand before he starts pulling you towards the restrooms. You don’t even have the chance to protest, not that you want to.

He is quick to pull you into an empty restroom, locking the door behind the two of you before his lips attack yours, pushing you against the door with vigor and hunger. His hands are already bunching your dress up around your waist and you moan his name when your hips meet and you feel his hard length through his jeans.

“We have to be quick, so no one notices we disappeared,” he pants as he helps you up to the counter, your back hitting the cold mirror behind you.

“Then shut up and just fuck me,” you challenge him and it makes him absolutely feral.

You don’t have time to enjoy it the way you usually do in bed, but the excitement of the situation alone has gotten you so wet that you’re already dripping when he pushes your panties to the side with one hand while his other works on his own pants.

“Fuck, already so wet for me, huh?” he breathes out, his lips brushing against yours before they kiss you fully.

“Just like how you’re rock hard for me,” you grin against his lips, a hand wandering down to his cock as you pull it out of his boxers, stroking it a few times before he pulls a condom out of his back pocket and wraps himself up. “Were you counting on this quickie, Styles?” you ask when you realize that he just had a condom ready on him.

“I knew for sure I’m gonna fuck you tonight, but wasn’t sure how long I’m gonna last,” he grins, capturing your lips again before he pushes himself inside you with no warning, making you both gasp.

“Fuck! Harry!” you moan as he starts moving rapidly, definitely not taking his time like he usually does. He is pounding into you without mercy, panting against your lips as his ring clad fingers are digging into the flesh of your thighs.

“You like that? Like it when I fuck you somewhere public?” he growls, making your legs curl around his hips.

Your hands move up his chest and neck, fingers tangling into his curls and you give them a tug, earning an animalistic grunt from him as he starts going even harder and faster. You’re rapidly getting closer to your orgasm.

“You close?” he pants and you nod. “Come on, cum all over my cock, Y/N.”

A few more thrusts and your walls tighten around his dick, squeezing him as you gasp, riding your high, your head falling backwards, meeting with the mirror behind you. Harry follows you a few pushes later, moaning your name repeatedly before his movements come to a halt and you both take a moment to catch your breath.

When he pulls out you both just quietly clean yourselves up, fixing your clothes and hair so you don’t entirely scream sex with your appearances.

“My offer to come to mine after still stands,” he smirks, running a hand through his hair before you head out.

“Tempting, but I have some work to do in the morning, so no,” you turn him down, stepping out to the dark hallway that leads back to the bar. Harry grabs your hand and pulls you back, his lips smashing against yours, surprising you with his move. He kisses you deeply, sucking on your bottom lip hard before he pulls back.

“What was that for?” you ask out of breath.

“If you’re not coming over, I needed something to have a good night,” he shrugs with a smug smirk before you return to the bar.

You catch the bartender’s look as you finally get your waters and Harry pays for them. You catch the two men eyeing each other for a moment before you and Harry return to the table and you forget about the whole thing.

A Sunday afternoon you’re lounging at Harry’s. You jumped at each other’s bones when you arrived, but now you’re chilling on his couch, watching a series you both wanted to start so you decided to give it a go together. Your leg is lying across Harry’s lap, his hands absentmindedly kneading your thighs. It feels nice, like a massage, especially after how sore he made you earlier, stretching you out more than he usually does with a new pose you tried out.

Your phone chimes next to you and tearing your gaze away from the TV you check to see who just sent you a text. It was one of your coworkers, Anthony, he sent you a raging text about how he still has no idea what to wear to the company party that’s gonna be next Saturday and you realize that you totally forgot about it.

“Shit!” you curse under your breath.

“What?” Harry asks, pausing the show.

“I have this stupid work party next weekend and I totally forgot about it,” you growl, checking your calendar quickly if you can squeeze in a quick shopping spree before Saturday or you’ll have to find something in your closet.

“Aren’t those things nice with a lot of free food and drinks?” Harry wonders.

“Yeah, but I don’t like it, because all my colleagues bring their partners and I’m usually the only single one and they keep trying to set me up with someone,” you roll your eyes even at the thought of having to suffer through another one of those awkward conversations about your love life. Like it’s any of their concern!

“I can go with you if that helps,” he offers and you give him a look over your phone. “What? I’m sure if you brought someone they wouldn’t bug you.”

“But we are not together,” you remind him narrowing your eyes at him.

“They don’t have to know that. It’s a win-win, Y/N. Your colleagues would stop nagging you and I can eat and drink for free,” he smirks, clearly pleased with his little plan.

“I mean… you’re not wrong,” you sigh.

“See? Then it’s settled,” he pats your legs, smirking widely at you, but you’re still not entirely convinced. “Come on, Y/N. It’s gonna be fun!”

“This is so cliché, Harry!” you groan, your head falling back against the arm of the couch. “Pretending to be a couple? Straight out of a damn movie.”

Harry lifts your legs up so he can get out from under them, placing them back to the cushion before he climbs over to you, half of his body pressing onto yours as he squints his eyes at you.

“We can fuck in the bathroom, if you want,” he bluntly offers and you just start laughing at his dirty mind and technique of convincing you. “What? There’s literally no better offer out there. Free food, free drinks and free sex. Really good sex, if I may add,” he points out and you smack his chest lightly.

“Didn’t know you were thinking about charging me for the sex,” you joke.

“Might as well do, baby. Especially if it’s the best you can get,” he smugly huffs and you’d retort something funny, but you get caught up on the name.

“Baby? Since when are you calling me baby?”

“Since we are gonna be a couple next week. Gotta rehearse, baby,” he repeats the nickname and a foreign feeling bubbles in the pit of your stomach. Why is this one little word making you feel things you haven’t before? “And you know what else we can rehearse?” he continues, oblivious to your inner dialogue.

You don’t get to answer upon feeling his hand slide between your legs, fingers gently pressing onto your clothed clit and though you can’t stop a moan from slipping through your lips, you still grab his wrist and pull him away.

“My legs are too sore, I wouldn’t enjoy another round of you pounding into me,” you tell him and you can see the proud glimmer in his eyes that he was the one who got you into this state, though he luckily doesn’t comment on it.

“It doesn’t have to be pounding, then,” he smirks and leaning down he kisses you, taking his time as his hand frees itself from your grip and slides under your shorts and panties, fingers meeting your already throbbing bud.

He repositions himself so one of his thighs are between your legs, his lips never leaving yours as his fingers start drawing circles on your clit, sending pleasure down your body in waves.

“Fuck,” you breathe out against his lips when two of his fingers tease your entrance before pushing all the way inside, curling them between your clenching, wet walls.

“No, we are not fucking right now,” he smirks, never missing a chance to joke around and you want to retort to his comment, but words get caught in your throat when his thumb starts playing with your clit, fingers sliding in and out of you in a steady rhythm.

“So, are we on for Saturday? It’s gonna be fun, hm?”

The little shit is using his fingers to convince you and he has the audacity to ask you questions when you are about to see stars. Sometimes you really do hate how big of a smug fucker Harry is, but it’s hard to feel hatred for him when he is about to make you cum again.

“I-I don’t… Harry!” you gasp when he abruptly pulls his fingers out of you, right when you were so close. “I was about to fucking cum!” you growl, raging eyes meeting his green irises.

“I know,” he chuckles. “Say that you’re in and I’ll make you cum.”

“You motherfu—“

You don’t get to finish, his lips smashing against yours as his fingers return, moving faster than before, quickly pushing you towards the edge again.

“Say it. Say it, Y/N,” he mumbles against your lips as your chest is heaving and you start buckling your hips to meet his movements.

“Fuck… Okay! I’m in, just please make me cum!” you whine, hands gripping his shoulders like your life depends on it.

“Good girl,” he smirks and finishes you off without any more teasing.

You cry out his name, fingers digging into his muscles as you push your thighs together, trapping his hand between them while he keeps fingering you oh so perfectly. He makes sure you ride out the last waves of your orgasm before he pulls his fingers out and without batting an eye, he just licks them and fixes your panties and shorts before returning to his previous position with your legs across his lap, starting the show like nothing really happened.

Saturday morning you’re able to quickly get your nails done and Leticia comes with you, the two of you having brunch together afterwards. You go to a new place near the nail salon and as the waiter arrives with your orders, you notice that he slides a napkin onto the table with a small smile.

Grabbing it you see a phone number scribbled onto it. Normally, you send back a smile and tug the napkin into your purse, but this time you just leave it on the table and decide to ignore it.

“What the hell is up with you?” Leticia asks and glancing up at her you see her gesturing towards the napkin. “You don’t seem too thrilled about the approach which is very unlike you.”

“Yeah, I don’t know. I’m just… not interested,” you shrug, reaching for your fork.

“Not interested? The dude looks like the lovechild of Chris Hemsworth and Johnny Depp. He is exactly your type, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I’m just not seeking another hookup right now, that’s it.”

“Oh my God!” Leticia gasps and you give her a puzzled look.

“What?”

“You don’t want other men because of Harry!”

“What? That’s crazy,” you laugh, because she has clearly left her mind at the salon for even thinking that.

“Have you hooked up with anyone else than Harry since you’ve made your little deal?”

“I, uhh… Flirted with the bartender when we were out together.”

“Flirting doesn’t count, not even in relationships.”

“I don’t think many would agree with that, Tish,” you huff.

“Okay, but did you have any interest in fucking someone else?”

“I don’t get it why you are making a big deal out of it. Why would I seek anyone else if I’m perfectly pleased by him?”

“Honey, that’s like… how relationships work.”

“That’s not true,” you shake your head, though what would you know about relationships? Your first and only one was when you were seventeen and it lasted twenty-one pathetic days.

“Are you fucking with anyone else?” She asks, eyebrows raised at you as you shake your head no. “Are you fucking him?”

“Obviously,” you scoff.

“Do you spend time together that doesn’t include sex?”

You are almost quick to say no, but then you realize that would be a big ass lie. Every time he comes over to your place or you’re at his, it’s never just the sex. That’s always primary, but not everything you do. All the dinners, the movies and shows you’ve watched together, when you sit on your tiny balcony with a bottle of wine, talking and laughing like you always did before the deal, something always happens after the sex.

Your silence once again answers Leticia’s question. Reaching over the table she takes your hand in hers, giving it a soft squeeze.

“Girl, you are totally dating Harry.”

Leticia once again manages to put a flea in your ear about this whole Harry thing. You wish she didn’t say a thing, because now you can’t think of anything else than the fact that you really are doing all the things with Harry that people who are dating do.

You get so riled up that you almost cancel on the evening, but you’d hate to have to sit through the evening with your colleagues alone when you said you’d be bringing someone. That would make their usual nagging a hundred times worse. So instead, you suck it up and decide to ignore the issue just for the time being and you get ready.

You were able to find a new dress beforehand, the yellow dress is truly a sight to the sore eyes with the corset-like top and very subtle lace details here and there. It’s a little daring, but everyone goes all out for these parties usually and you definitely don’t want to be underdressed.

Harry texts you that he is in front of the building a little before seven, holding up the taxi he came with so you quickly grab everything you need and head out.

You’re the first one to see him through the glass entrance doors of your building, he is standing next to the car in a simple black suit and a soft yellow shirt underneath. It was actually your idea to match your outfits and he surely understood the assignment, especially seeing his also yellow nails.

Part of you is still hung up on what Leticia told you, but a bigger one is so excited to see him and also very into his look for the evening, that you push your doubts to the back of your mind and step out of the building with a shy smile on your lips as his eyes fall on you and you see his lips part.

“Wow! This dress is… wow!” he breathes out, his eyes raking your frame up and down shamelessly as you walk closer.

“Do you know any other words than wow?” you tease him, biting into your bottom lip.

“Yeah. How about: I would love to bend you over this taxi and take you here and now in this dress?”

Your face heats up immediately, slapping his arm, but then you leave your hand on his bicep and give it a squeeze as your answer: you’d definitely love that if it wasn’t kind of illegal to have sex out on a busy street.

The ignorance in you is so high that you don’t even mind how Harry keeps a hand on your thigh in the car, what’s more, you’re quite liking the warmth of his touch on you. His fingers are gently tapping against the music the driver is playing and he even hums a little along the songs.

“Hey, how is the album writing going?” you ask to break the silence a little.

“Great! They asked for fifteen songs until the end of August, so I have plenty of time, but I’m already done with six,” he beams, and you smile back at him proudly.

“That’s amazing. Can I hear any of them sometime?”

“I mean… if you buy the album?” he chuckles, making you roll your eyes at him. “I’ll see what I can do about that,” he then adds, giving your leg another squeeze before turning towards the window.

The party is just the same as it always is. A luxurious evening to celebrate the company’s success in the past six months, a way to give back to the employees and make them feel appreciated with all the free stuff. It’s nice, but you don’t feel like it’s necessary, people would be happier with a raise after all, than one night of free food and drinks.

Harry holds your hand as you walk in, the majority of the guests already present, music playing and there are several open buffet tables and bars in the gigantic ballroom that was decorated in a forest-like theme just for tonight.

“So you did not lie about bringing a date!” Anthony beams as soon as he sees you, his boyfriend, Pete following him right behind, both of them wearing matching burgundy suits.

“Have I lied to you about anything?” you chuckle awkwardly.

“Plenty of times,” he points out before turning towards Harry. “Hello handsome, I’m Anthony, Y/N’s favorite coworker, and this is my boyfriend, Pete.” They all shake hands, Harry smiling back at them warmly before his hand finds yours again, his fingers lacing together with yours in an instant.

“Nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you, I’m Harry.”

“Oh my! The accent!” Anthony gushes, clearly already a fan of Harry’s. “I was really afraid Y/N just said that she is bringing someone so we would get out of her hair this time.”

“I feel offended,” you give him a look, but he just shrugs it off, even though he is more right than he knows.

“Come on, let’s get you guys a drink, we are all sitting over there!”

Joining all your coworkers at the table, you get a head start on the food and drinks, not shying away from stacking everything you like onto your plate. Talking, mixing and mingling, Harry stays right next to you, charming everyone the two of you meet, earning you some approving looks from your colleagues that usually try to set you up with someone they know. This time, you’re left in peace the moment they see Harry with you, his hand always somewhere on you, holding your hand, the small of your back, your hips or waist or, your personal favorite, the back of your neck under your hair. His presence is uplifting already, but his tiny touches just warm you even more on the inside.

“I have to say, Y/N, you are absolutely glowing!” Dianne, one of the editors compliment you when the two of you are at the bar waiting for your drinks to be refilled. Harry stayed back at the table, deep in conversation with Pete about guitars, from what you could understand from their conversation.

“Oh, thank you!” you chuckle softly.

“This man is for sure treating you well. It’s so great to see you finally finding your person.”

She meant well with her comment, but it’s what brings everything you kept hidden in the back of your head out to the front. Tonight was supposed to be all pretending, making everyone believe something that’s not even there, but then why do you feel like it’s real? Like you fooled yourself with everyone else as well?

Your eyes fall back to Harry at the table, who is intently listening to something Pete is telling him and as if he had a sixth sense, his eyes snap at you, a smile stretching across his pretty face at an instant that makes you stomach dance again, heart beating oddly fast.

What is happening to you? This cannot be real, you can’t be having feelings, especially not for Harry. No, you do not allow that for yourself, emotions are off limits for you, because if you fall for someone that gives them the chance to leave you and break you and you’ve seen what it does to a woman. You got enough of the suffering through your mother and you vowed not to let it happen to you. And not even Harry Styles will change that. This is about sex and nothing else, no feelings are involved and that will not change. You won’t let it.

Excusing yourself from Dianne you quickly go back to the table, the refills long forgotten as you take your seat next to Harry. His hand instantly finds your leg as he looks at you with a sweet smile at first that turns into slight confusion.

“Thought you went for a refill?”

“Forget the drinks,” you shake your head, leaning closer to his ear. “You promised me bathroom sex.”

You feel the shift in him right away, how he bites into his bottom lip, his bright green irises darkening at your words, his hold on your leg tightening. His gaze flickers to your eyes and you want to devour him, you want him to take you here and there to prove you that this is all it’s about: sex.

Clearing his throat he mumbles a lame excuse as he pulls you from your chair, tugging you towards the restrooms, you try to keep up with his pace in your heels, but you also can’t wait for him to slam you against the door and fuck you quick and hard.

As soon as you’re locked away from the party in one of the bathrooms, your lips collide with his as he pushes you up against the door, a leg coming between your thighs and you can’t stop yourself from grinding on him.

“Fuck,” he rasps out, hands cupping your jaw as he angles your head just right while your hands are already traveling down his body to reach his pants, eager to get them undone as fast as possible.

However the sudden rush and desperation catches Harry’s eyes and he grabs your hands, stopping you mid-action.

“Hey, everything alright?” he asks, out of breath, concern filling his eyes.

“I just need you to fuck me,” you bluntly reply, but he doesn’t move.

“Okay, but why do you look so shaken up? Did something happen?”

“Harry, stop babying me! I said I’m fine, I just want you to fuck me!” you snap, losing your patience. Not sure if it’s with him or with yourself though.

“You’re obviously not fine! You are snapping at me for being decent and making sure you’re okay!” Harry steps away from you, the moment completely ruined as all physical contact ends with him, his eyes staring back at you in disbelief and you feel like a ticking bomb that’s about to explode.

“It’s not your concern if I’m okay or not. We have a deal, just go with that and leave the rest to me!”

“But above the deal we are friends too. I’m not gonna just… fuck you senseless when you’re obviously upset about something. You’re not in the right mindset.”

“Oh my God, stop being so fucking nice! Stop making these grand gestures and stop pretending like you give a fuck!” You raise your voice and it surely surprises him, but he is still more concerned than angry at your outburst.

“What do you mean pretending? I do care about you! Is that a fucking crime now?!”

“It is because it is for the wrong reasons!” you retort, feeling your throat closing up at the same time. Oh God, you hope you won’t start crying, that will make it even worse. “I think you are taking this pretending a little too far tonight. We are not a couple, this is not real, Harry,” you remind him.

He stares back at you for what feels like eternity and you wish you could read his mind, because you can’t read anything from his eyes, he just stands there like a statue and you feel panic crawling up your spine, slowly digging its claws into your flesh.

And then he finally breaks his silence.

“And would it be so bad if it was real?”

You can’t help a sob that emits from you, feeling like your guts are in a tight grip by his words. This is exactly what you didn’t want to happen.

“No, take that back!” you whine.

“I’m not taking it back! Y/N, what we’ve been doing these past weeks is exactly what a relationship is like and you didn’t seem to have a problem with it until a label was put on it. It doesn’t have to change anything!”

“But it is! And you know I don’t do this!”

“Don’t do what? Feelings? You don’t get to choose that!” he chuckles bitterly.

“I do! I fucking do! And I chose not to have them so… this is ending here, because you clearly caught feelings,” you pant in desperate need of getting out of the bathroom, but when you are about to open the door Harry’s hand snaps against it, keeping it closed. You rest your forehead against the cool surface of it, feeling Harry stand so close to you behind, his chest is touching your back.

“Don’t just walk away, we are in the middle of a conversation,” he growls, his voice filled with anger and warning.

“I don’t have anything to say to you,” you whisper, shaking your head as you turn around and face him, your back pressing against the door.

“But I do,” he simply replies. “Why do you think you can just run away from feeling anything for the rest of your life? Why would it be so bad if you fell for someone, huh? I know you do have feelings, I know you well, Y/N. You’re not some cold hearted jerk, you are a caring and loving person, so why won’t you let yourself be happy?”

“I am happy the way I am, have you thought about that?”

“No, you’re not. I’ve known you half my life, I know that you want to be cared for, you want to be loved and cherished, yet you push away everyone who wants to give you that.”

“Because it’s not that easy, Harry!” you snap at him. “It’s never just the lovey-dovey shit! Feelings come with hurt and pain and heartbreaks and I don’t need that! I can’t handle that!”

“It’s not always the case! But if you never put yourself out there, you’ll never find the happiness you’re seeking!”

“Well, for me, it doesn’t worth it! I don’t want to fall for someone, plan my future with them and open up to them completely only for them to fall out of love with me one day and decide they don’t want anything to do with me! I don’t want to give anyone the chance to hurt me like that, because I’ve seen what it does to a person! I witnessed it all, Harry! I will not be a victim to that!”

You’re full on shouting, tears rolling down your cheeks at this point. You are letting everything out that’s been bottled up deep inside of you all this time. Nothing can make you believe in the fairytale that will never become your reality and you rather save the time and pain than experiment with it.

What really hurts is that now you are losing your friend. Your best friend. Because the way Harry is looking at you makes it obvious that you’ll never be like before the deal. The hurt, the shock, the panic and the anger, it all mixes in his wide-eyed gaze and it’s like a knife into your chest.

“You promised me, Harry,” you sob, voice now barely more than just a whisper. “You swore you wouldn’t catch feelings but you lied!”

“I didn’t lie,” he simply answers clenching his jaw. “I said I wouldn’t catch feelings for you, but truth is… I already had them. I was already in love with you, have been for a while. And you know what? I think you love me too, but you’re just too afraid to admit it. I know it because I can feel it. The way you touch me, look at me, the way you talk to me, it’s written all over you, but you choose to ignore it.”

“You don’t know shit,” you shake your head vigorously. “You think you know it, but you don’t.”

“Stop denying it, Y/N! You can’t just switch it off! Loving is not as horrendous as you think it is! Yes, it comes with pain too, but the good is always there to make you forget about it. You have to give it… you have to give yourself a chance!”

“I don’t have to do anything, Harry,” you sass back, pushing him away so you have the chance to sneak out of the room before he could stop you. But he doesn’t let it end that easily. Running after you he catches your wrist before you could get out of the hallway, pulling you back.

“Don’t just fucking walk away, Y/N! We need to talk about this!”

“No, we don’t. And I’m done with this. Done with… you.”

It hurts. The words rolling off of your tongue hurt, but you choose to ignore it once again as you shake his hand off of yourself, marching back to your table to grab your bag and leave.

“What do you mean you’re done with me? Don’t do this, Y/N! Let’s just fucking talk!”

Harry keeps trying to stop you, but you’re determined to leave. Your coworkers notice the little scene, but you don’t pay it any attention as you head out of the room, knowing well they’ll talk shit about you behind your back as soon as you’re out of the building.

“Y/N for fuck’s sake just stop already!” Harry snaps, grabbing your arm once again when you’re outside, pulling you back, but you’ve had enough.

“No! I’m not stopping, you need to stop! Stop trying to make yourself believe this is anything more than just the deal we made! It’s not and it will never be, because you don’t get to have the privilege of hurting me, nobody gets to do that!”

“Who said I want to hurt you?! That’s the last thing I would want to do! It’s not as cruel as you imagine it, Y/N. I know that your mum had a terrible love life when you were younger, but that’s not the only side to love! There are so much good about it, so much to fight for and endure with the bad sides, you can’t just throw all of it out the window because you decided love is just not for you!”

“I can and I will. Watch me!” you bite back, tearing your arm out of his hold as you step to the side of the pavement and wave a taxi down.

“Please don’t get into that car, Y/N, let’s talk!”

“We talked enough,” you huff as the car stops in front of you and you hop inside, but just as you are about to close the door Harry once again stops you.

“Y/N, I love you. Please don’t do this!” he begs, so much sorrow and pain radiating from his face and for a moment you fall weak. You almost reach out to him, because part of you hates seeing him like this, especially knowing that it’s because of you. You just want him to be happy, but you know it’s not gonna be with you. You can never give him what he wants and needs. He’ll be better off without you.

“I’m sorry,” you choke out before pulling the door closed and the car drives away. Turning around you see him stand on the pavement, completely broken and shaken, his hands tangling into his hair as he angrily kicks at the dirt before the car melts into the traffic and he falls out of your sight.

You did it for your and Harry’s sake. It had to be done and you are both better off this way. At least that’s what you’ve been trying to convince you to believe.

But why does it hurt so badly then?

Harry tried you calling a million times after you left him at the party, he even came after you and banged on your door for thirty minutes straight, begging you to let him in and just talk, but you didn’t even answer him. Just waited until he left before you curled up in the shower and cried for about an hour.

The calls and texts kept coming in the next few days, but after a while he gave up. He got nothing but silence from your side and one last, long ass text that you didn’t even read because you knew you’d just start crying again, he finally gave up.

You were left alone with all the pain and emptiness and you realized how big part of your life Harry played before. Somehow, everything reminded you of him and you couldn’t do anything without wishing he was with you.

You truly believed that time will heal you, that soon you’ll realize that you made the right decision, but days turned into weeks and nothing changed, you just learned to live with the pain. You stopped going out with your friends and not just because you were afraid of seeing Harry, but because you genuinely couldn’t get yourself to leave the house. Your evenings consisted of binge eating all the ice-cream you could find in your freezer and watching reruns of your favorite shows, but nothing could really take your mind off of Harry.

Day after day you cancelled on Leticia as well until she had enough of your hermit life. She got fed up watching you sink into your pit of sorrow and decided to take things into her own hands and not let you run away from her.

A Friday evening you’re doing what you’ve been doing for weeks now, lying on your couch in sweatpants, scrolling through Netflix when there’s a knock on your door. You wait, hoping whoever it is will think you’re not home and go away, but another obnoxious knock rips through the apartment and you growl.

“I know you’re in there bitch, open the fucking door!” Leticia shouts from outside and you curse the day you became friends with her. Maybe you would have been better off as enemies.

“I’m busy!” you call out, but make your way to the front door anyway, opening it to reveal her.

“Yeah, I can see that. Busy with being a bag of trash,” she comments on your appearance, walking inside without an invitation.

“Jeez, you really did wake up today and chose violence,” you mutter under your breath as you shut the door closed.

Leticia is quick to turn the TV off and open up the windows as you just stand there, not sure what she is doing here.

“When did you clean this place? And when was the last time you took a shower?” she asks, her nose scrunching when she takes a better look at you.

“Okay, did you come here to offend me? Because I don’t need that so please leave.”

“No, I’m here to beat some sense into you.”

“Good luck with that,” you scoff, taking your spot on the couch once again. You reach for the remote with the intention of turning the TV back on, but Leticia stands in front of the screen, blocking the device completely as she stares down at you with a disapproving look, arms folded on her chest.

“You’re acting like a child, Y/N. Avoiding everyone and being mad at the whole world, are you an emo teenager now or what?”

“I’m not mad at the whole world!”

“Okay, then you’re mad at just Harry, still, it’s a mistake.”

“I’m not mad at only Harry either,” you admit truthfully.

“Who else then?”

“Myself?” you mumble, eyes falling closed as you slide lower down on the couch.

“That makes the two of us, but why are you mad at yourself?” she asks, finally moving from her spot in front of the TV as she sits next to you on the couch, crossing her legs as she waits for your answer.

“Because…” you start with a sigh, opening your eyes, but you avoid looking at her, instead, you stare at the wall across you. “Because I can’t fucking stop thinking about him,” you admit and your lips start trembling instantly, just like every time you think about him. “I miss him so fucking badly, Tish! I miss our conversations, I miss his stupid jokes, I miss him raiding my fucking fridge and I miss…”

You bite your tongue, not wanting to admit the next thoughts loudly. Because you miss kissing him, you miss holding him and be held by him. You miss sex too, but you miss the tiny things even more, the way his lips feel against yours, how he smiles against them when you whimper his name and you miss the awkward little things the most. When he accidentally bumps his head against yours or when say random shit right before he pushes into you just to make you laugh, or when he leans in for a kiss but misses it and ends up kissing your nose or just the corner of your mouth. You miss everything about him and you hate him for that, but you hate yourself even more. It feels like your own conscious has betrayed you.

Shutting your eyes closed you let the tears roll down your cheeks as Leticia scoots closer and wraps her arms around you, cooing soothingly at you.

“It’s alright. It’s totally normal, Y/N.”

“It is not! Not for me at least!” you protest pulling back, wiping your cheeks with the back of your hands.

“Stop with the bullshit already!” she growls in annoyance. “You are not some kind of ice queen who is incapable of loving! You love me, right?”

“Yeah, but that’s different,” you roll your eyes.

“Not really. You love your other friends as well, right?” You nod. “And you love your mom,” she adds and you nod again. “Would you do anything for these people?”

“Of course.”

“Do you like spending time with them? Do you care about them in all kinds of ways?”

“Yes,” you sigh, fumbling with the hem of your shirt.

“Do you feel the same way about Harry? Do you care about him, would you do anything for him to make him happy?”

“Yes,” you whisper truthfully.

“Then don’t complicate it. You love him, no big deal! And he surely loves you back, because he told you, right?” You nod. “Then pull your head out of your ass and just let yourself be happy for once.”

“Why are you coming with this too? I was happy on my own too!”

“No, you were getting by,” she points it out. “You were doing good, but you weren’t… a whole. Harry gave you everything you missed, but for some fucked up reason you think it’s the end of the world to depend on someone else partially when it comes to your happiness. Which can be a smart thing, it’s important to be your own person and be independent, but sometimes we need some help from others. From people that love us and we love them back. It’s not a crime, Y/N.”

“No, but it’s gonna end up with me being heartbroken.”

“You already are,” she ruthlessly replies, bringing your attention to what you’ve been trying to ignore all this time. “Hate to break it to you, but this is what that feels like. So why not just go with it, you already felt the pain, now you could go for the good parts as well.”

“I don’t know if I can do it, Tish,” you breathe out, resting your head against the back of the couch. “Even if I did it, I know I would mess it up and hurt him or maybe he’ll do something stupid and hurt me and I don’t think I can handle that.”

“So what? It’s part of the deal. And besides, you’re already hurting each other, so you better get your shit together,” she scoffs, poking your side playfully.

It’s part of the deal. Are you ready to make a new deal? One that you’ve been avoiding your whole life? Are you ready to cut yourself open for someone else and just hope for the best?

Probably not. And probably you’ll never be. But your tactics didn’t succeed so far, you still ended up in pain so why not give it a chance? Even if it’s gonna be the hardest thing you’ve ever done?

“Do you think he hates me now?” you ask quietly, peeking at her scared of her answer.

“He is a bit mad at you for shutting him out, but he could never hate you. That man loves you so much, it’s almost disgusting,” she admits, making you chuckle. “Just… be honest with him and talk to him. You need it. You both need it.”

Harry’s fingers strum against the chords again, trying to get the tune right, but he fails again, a frustrated growl leaving his lips as he lets his head fall forwards. He’s been trying to finish the song for hours, but it still hasn’t come together the way he imagined and his patience is running short.

It’s been hard for him to focus on writing, with you on his mind all the time, everything seems like a hard task. He has written plenty of songs since the night at the party, but he could never use them for his job. One, because they are so fucking sad and depressive and they asked for upbeat hits from him, and two, because they are all so personal, he could never give them to someone else. He can’t let anyone else sing the lines he wrote to you, but you’ll probably never hear them.

Giving up on finishing the song today, he puts the guitar aside and calls it a day. Walking into the kitchen he opens the fridge and realizes that it’s completely empty aside from a bottle of ketchup and a single banana. He’s been such a mess lately, he forgot to go grocery shopping yesterday. Huffing to himself he grabs the banana and reaches for his phone to order something right when his doorbell rings. He is not expecting anyone, but Mitch has been popping in every few days to check in on him since everything that went down with you, so Harry is convinced it’s him again.

“Great timing, do you want Italian or Chinese?” he asks, walking up to the door, but as he swings it open he freezes when he sees you standing on the doormat. “Y/N…” he breathes out as if he was seeing a ghost.

“Hi! I-I hope I’m not bothering you o-or anything…” you ramble nervously.

“No! No, come on in!” He snaps out of his trance and steps aside, letting you walk inside. A feeling of nostalgia hits you right away as you think back at the last time you were here. Just a few days before the party, when everything was different.

“I’m sorry I came without asking, I just… I would say I was nearby, but that’s not true,” you chuckle anxiously as the two of you walk into the living room. You notice that his place is a little messier than usually, but it’s not nearly as bad as yours was before you did a deep cleaning yesterday after Leticia’s comments on it.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it. What… What brought you here?”

“I, uhh… I’ve been thinking. A lot. And I have a few things I need to tell you.”

For a moment Harry’s stomach drops, because he thinks you came here to tell him off one more time for breaking your deal, for everything that happened at the party. He is already bracing himself to just let you lash out on him, but it never comes. And when you speak up again, he nearly faints.

“I love you.”

It’s a strong start, definitely a surprising one. Harry’s lips part and his eyes widen, his look almost comical, but you’re not laughing, not now. You have a lot to tell him and you can only hope he won’t throw you out after everything is said.

“I love you and I’m sorry it took me so long to stop ignoring it, but I promise you I’m done with that. And I’m sorry for everything I said to you that night, I was… mad and confused and I didn’t know how to deal with everything at once. I was delusional and ignorant and… a fool for thinking that I could just choose to never have feelings, especially for you,” you add with a tiny, nervous chuckle. “You were right. About everything. That I can’t live without ever putting myself out there and risking it. And I think deep down I knew that, but I was so afraid of getting hurt that I made myself believe I’m good on my own, but I’m not. Not entirely, to be precise. Because sometimes it is worth risking it and… and I realized that you are the person for me who is worth this risk.”

The tears are already blurring your vision, for the millionth time these past weeks, but it feels right now. Opening up to Harry and telling him all of this is hard, but with every spoken word you feel lighter and more relieved.

“I’m sorry if I made you think that I don’t love you, because I do. I really do. You are my best friend and these past weeks have been hell for me without you. I was so keen on avoiding a heart break that I ended up breaking my own heart,” you chuckle bitterly, the first tear running down your cheek.

Harry reaches out and wipes it away with his thumb and you involuntarily melt into his touch. You’ve been starved for it and now it feels like home. When you look up and your eyes meet his, you see that they are red too and it just makes you want to cry even more.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, I just thought that I was doing the right thing, but I was so far from that. So I’m really sorry and I understand if you don’t want to see me again for the way I acted. I was… a horrible friend and… an even worse girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend?” he asks quietly.

“Yeah. Because you were right, we were more than just the deal and… if you choose not to throw me out after this, I would… I would love to give it a try with you. I want to be the girlfriend you deserve and though I’m sure I’ll mess it up a lot of times, I promise I’ll try my best, becau—“

He makes your rambling stop in the best way possible, lips smashing against yours as he cups your tear-soaked cheeks in his warm palms, pulling you close to him, your arms curling around his waist immediately.

Harry has kissed you several times before, but none of them compares to this. It’s messy and salty from both your tears, but you wouldn’t change a thing about it, the way his lips move against yours, tongues meeting, devouring each other, making up for the lost time and full of promises for the future. You hold onto his shirt at his back for dear life as he just keeps kissing you over and over again until you both run out of breath.

“So, does this mean you’re not throwing me out?” you joke, breaking the silence once you’ve pulled back.

“Fuck no,” he laughs, pecking your lips a few more times before his lips meet your forehead. “You are not leaving this place, ever. You’re trapped,” he adds to the joke and you break out in a relieved laughter.

“Wait, so I’m stuck with you now?” you whine playfully, but all you get is another kiss on the lips, hard and demanding.

“Yeah, forever, baby. You won’t get rid of me now, not after the speech you just gave me,” he smirks down at you, his arms coming to curl around your shoulders as he keeps you pressed against him tightly. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you reply, your heart soaring as you hear those words again from him, this time, not even trying to dodge them in any way. In fact, you just want to hear him say it every minute over and over again for the rest of your life. “And I’m happy to be stuck with you,” you add with a shy smile as his grin widens at your words.

“Yeah? So we have a new deal then?” he teases, kissing the corner of your mouth.

“Absolutely.”

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