#and B) tells you highlights *exactly* what you need to read

[the-bisexual-bitch]

listen

ask for help when you need it

Sisyphus

listen to me. listen. your actual job in life, and it sucks that your 5th grader teacher didnt explain this adequately enough, is to ask for help when you need it and to accept charity when it would take a weight from your shoulders. Otherwise you end up like Sisyphus- or even worse, Walter White

[2tcs]

Day 6: Forgetting an important date and offense

DeadTired: Tim

TheBloodSon: Damian

WingDing: Dick

PurplePower: Steph

Shadow: Cass

GlowStick: Duke

UndeadDrama: Jason

SpaceCadet: Danny

Alfred: Alfred

B Less Batchat

Feb 9, 11:15 AM

DeadTired

“I don’t think you understand the 

importance of getting a third

party to” bla bla bla

I sware. Some of these old farts

just need to retire already.

PurplePower

But if they retired then the world might figure

out that we don’t need them.

Shadow 

🤯

WingDing

Just a little longer Tim then your home free

DeadTired

Easy for you to say. I have three meetings

after this. And all of them could be covered

in an email. But I swear that none of these

Old hats even know what an email is.

SpaceCadet

ducks to be you

Ducks

Ducks

DeadTired

It’s okay. Take your time.

SpaceCadet

Fuds you

wtf?

PurplePower

🤣😂🤣

Shadow

😂

WingDing

Autocorrect strikes again.

TheBloodSon

Please cease this irritating conversation.

Some of us have important work to do.

GlowStick

This is kinda the highlight of my patrol.

But I remember when I was in school.

Don’t let the teachers see you texting.

TheBloodSon

Tt. As if they would catch me.

SpaceCadet

Aren’t you at lunch right now

Damian? Besides you could

just put your phone on mute.

PurplePower

Ooo Snap!

TheBloodSon

That is irrelevant. You all need to

focus on your duties instead of

complaining about frivolous things.

WingDing

Aw. Look how responsible you are!

PurplePower

Our little boy is growing so fast. 😭

Shadow

😢

DeadTired

Some day he will be all grown up

and too smart to hang out with us

simpleton.

TheBloodSon

I am already too smart for a plebian

like you Drake.

SpaceCadet

Lol

Sit down, pleb.

Oh before I forget

The 12 is my dd so I

won’t be available.

Shadow

👍

WingDing

👍

GlowStick

👍

DeadTired

👍

PurplePower

👍

TheBloodSon

Tt

UndeadDrama

QUIT SPAMING MY PHONE!

Alfred

Might I suggest you all return to your

duties?

Feb 10, 8:30 PM

SpaceCadet

Where is everyone?

Shadow

❓

SpaceCadet

I’m in the cave but no one else is.

DeadTired

Lol

Check the time.

Alfred

Young master. I can hear you all the way

in the manor. Please mind your language

And remember to place a quarter in the

jar.

SpaceCadet

Sorry Alfred

Feb 11, 6:00 AM

DeadTired

GUYS! I JUST FIGURED IT OUT!!!

I KNOW WHAT COFFEE SHOP

DANNY GOES TO!!!!

DANNY YOU ARE SUCH A SELFISH

AHOLE!!! THEY GAVE ME A 12OZ 

OF STRAIT ESPRESSO SHOTS!!!

Alfred

Master Tim. Master Danny. If you would 

please meet me in the kitchen at exactly 

6:30 am I would very much appreciate it.

SpaceCadet

Tim. I am sorry to inform you

that we are no longer friends.

DeadTired

GET BENT DEAD BOY!

SpaceCadet

Alfred? Tim hasn’t gone to sleep

since February 7th. He has set

up an alarm system to tell him

when you are coming up the 

stairs to the family wing so

he can pretend to be asleep

when you check on him.

DeadTired

YOU TRAITER!

SpaceCadet

Oh, hay! Thanks Tim! Now

I have my own theme music

for the day!

DeadTired

NO! SUFFER!!!

UndeadDrama

Why the heck is the Barbie song

playing next door…

Never mind. I just read the texts.

SpaceCadet

I′m a Barbie girl, in a Barbie world

Life in plastic, it's fantastic

You can brush my hair, undress me everywhere

Imagination, life is your creation

DeadTired

GO EAT A DICK!

SpaceCadet

I think Kory would unalive me if

I tried to eat your brother.

DeadTired

ALSKDJFA;OLSDIFJKA;SOLKDF

Feb 11, 9:15 AM

UndeadDrama

I hate to inform everyone but

Danny’s phone has unfortunately passed

away.

GlowStick

R.I.P.

What song was it playing?

UndeadDrama

Crazy Frog. Auto-tuned Crazy Frog.

WingDing

Isn’t that song already auto-tuned?

UndeadDrama

This was worse. So much worse.

Think Alvin and the Chipmunks 

level of pitch with the weird 

auto-tune echo.

PurplePower

On this day we say goodbye to

a good phone. Taken from us

too soon. Please light a candle

for our fallen comrade. 🕯️

WingDing

🕯️

Shadow

🕯️

GlowStick

🕯️

UndeadDrama

🕯️

GlowStick has invited (888) XXX-XXXX 

to the chat.

(888) XXX-XXXX  has changed their name to 

DieHard.

DieHard

🕯️

DeadTired

YOU WILL SUFFER!!!

Feb 12, 10 AM

GlowStick

Hay. Has anyone seen Danny?

He wasn’t in class today.

TheBloodSon

He is probably shirking his studies.

WingDing

Come on Dams. Danny likes that.

Hay Jason. Danny’s apartment is

Next to yours. Is he home?

Feb 12, 3:16 PM

UndeadDrama

Just woke up. I didn’t hear him get

back last night.

Feb 12, 3:30 PM

UndeadDrama

Just went through his apartment.

He’s not there and it doesn’t look

like anything’s been touched since

I was over yesterday.

Shadow

😱

PurplePower

That’s not like Danny. Sleep is sacred

to him. He would never purposely

Stay out later than his normal patrol.

GlowStick

He never showed up for class. I’m on

patrol rn so I’ll keep an eye out for him.

Shadow

🤕❓

WingDing

I don’t know Cass.

I’m coming to Gotham tonight

To help look for him.

UndeadDrama

I’m going to do a few rounds

in the alley. If I can’t find him 

before patrol, I’ll have some of

my men start nosing around.

Alfred

I will make sure the med bay is

prepped and ready. Please be safe

everyone.

DeadTired

👍

TheBloodSon

Of course.

WingDing

👍

PurplePower

👍

Shadow

👍

GlowStick

👍

UndeadDrama

Okay Alfi.

Feb 13, 7:35 AM

DieHard

Hay everyone. I just got

back in Gotham.

What did I miss?

WingDing

DANNY!!!

PurplePower

Danny! Where were you!

Shadow

🥺💔

DeadTired

WTF WAS YOUR TRACKER?

WHY WAS YOUR PHONE

UNTRACABLE?!

GlowStick

Dude! Are you okay?

TheBloodSon

Tt. I do not see a reason for you

all to be so concerned.

DieHard

DID YOU ALL FORGET

ABOUT MY DEATH DAY?!

DISSHONER! DISSHONER

ON YOU! DISSHONER ON 

YOUR COW!

Alfred

Young Master Danny. I am happy

To hear you are back. If you would

be so kind please come by the

manor, I would greatly appreciate it.

DieHard

Of course Alfred.

Feb 13, 2:50 PM

UndeadDrama

Danny! Your back!

DieHard

🖕

UndeadDrama

😢

DieHard

🖕🖕

UndeadDrama

😭

[lovesculprit]

Caps on for this post so its easier to read because I'm serious today + screenshots/message included + if you plan on commenting, read the whole thing

I wasn't going to make this post but I actually decided it would be good because sometimes people need to take accountability and also so it doesn't happen to others. if you cba to read it, i've highlighted the key points

I'm sure you'll see this, in which case, I messaged you and I thought we could stop what you were doing civilly, but instead you continued to spam my inbox. And since I knew it was you, I blocked you anyway, but it's all good because you blocked me right after you realised I knew. You said I dragged your name through the mud and I didn't, I referred to you as 'x' and didn't even say anything, but in this post, I am going to name you as clitfilms directly. (if you message me to own up to it and apologise, i will honestly take this down)

I am not commenting on the role she did/didn't play in her own drama, this is merely about her bringing people into it that aren't involved and creating more drama herself by lying and spamming my inbox.

So, as some of you may know, recently I had someone in my inbox tell me that people were talking about me in discord servers and saying I was clitfilms. (see ask here) and then i defended myself here

This anon refused to give proof when I asked, just said that what they (let's call them a and b because i don't want to name them) did to clitfilms should be enough.

(black image next to it is just so it displays better on the phone)

But that's no proof at all. If you know someone's said something, you should have screenshots and yet you had none, so I already doubted this anon. On top of that, I messaged a and b and cleared it up with them myself, but as I said, the no proof was the main doubter here for me.

I then began to suspect that the anon was clitfilms, maybe she wanted an ally and thought if I was attacked in the same way, I'd side with her. I had no proof of this, aside from this timing coincidence.

A little weird that clitfilms posts exactly when I get these 3 anon messages, but maybe a coincidence. So I just think it to myself but I won't accuse her of it, right?

Okay moving on, I turned anon off because it was annoying but then after I cleared the 'talking about me' stuff up with a and b a few days later, I put it back on.

Then, 23rd of Oct I get this ask:

(click the image on the right to see the full image, showing battery/time etc. to show that timing wise, the post and ask were sent literally a minute apart)

I didn't know her name was Naya because I've only checked her blog to clear up rumours in that one post and didn't stop to get her name, but since her drama keeps popping up in my inbox, I decided to check her page after getting this ask.

There, I discovered that her name is Naya and on top of that, someone had sent her this post. Which means in the 1/2 minutes that post of hers was up, someone managed to see it, check my post/read hers, then comprehend it and then send that anon message.

Now maybe someone has crazy super speed reading and absorbed it all in 2 seconds to then send me that anon message but to me it seems like she had already copied and pasted a message ready for my inbox that she sent as soon as she posted.

& that was so suspicious to me and exactly when I felt I wasn't crazy to think it was her the first time.

After this, I was tired of getting these asks and honestly was just waiting for more to come in, they were spread out a little so it seemed like they were different people' (ha, how wrong that was) but I wanted it to stop.

In my mind, there's two ways to stop this, make a post saying 'clitfilms leave my inbox', or send her a message. So I decide to unblock her and message.

I'm not going to blast someone's name if I can solve it with them privately, regardless of if what she's doing is shady & downright hypocritical based on what she seems to be posting about. (Just something I don't want to do unless I absolutely have to)

And for me personally, spreading my name around in people's inboxes, acting like different people in my own inbox to convince me of your lies and then spamming me? I can't just ignore that.

I don't know if my message comes across as mad, but I was, so I don't really care. Getting constant anons for no reason is so annoying, especially when you know who it is.

Now in this message, I addressed the anon claims directly (no point beating around the bush when I know clitfilms typed them to me) Which is where my points 1/2 came from.

So now she knows that I know for certain it's her.

5 minutes later, another ask comes in and then later after that, another one:

The one asking for 'proof that I know it's clitfilms’ comes 5 minutes after I message her basically saying I know it's you.

At this point, I'm certain it's her but hey maybe that's a coincidence too and the anon was instead referencing that ask from earlier. again though, the timing is crazy coincidental.

I don't know how many times anon asks can match up with clitfilms posts/interactions on several different days over several different weeks and it not be her. There are only so many coincidences that you can brush off.

I didn't screenshot every single ask, especially not the original copy/paste ones that I think many people got because I didn't know I'd make this post and after blocking sender, they're gone now.

But, I know I got an ask defending her on the 7th oct, again don't know what time but she was posting about the drama on that day.

And also, I was tagged on a post with one of a / b and on the same day, that was when she was first mentioned in my inbox.

Which now kinda feels like, she didn't know who I was, saw that post, realised I might be mutuals with a/b and quickly messaged me to say they were bullies to prevent them from 'manipulating more people to turn against her'.

Saying that, I have never ever gotten a single bad ask about clitfilms. Every ask was defending her like that was their life's goal.

And linked to that, this ask from earlier came through on Oct 19th around 3/4am bst. One of a/b got a message in their inbox too, saying I was clitfilms (again, sorted now) & I didn't want to message them again because we don't know each other, but I wonder if they got that ask around the same time I got mine. That one I don't know because I haven't asked, but just a thought, wouldn't be surprised considering everything else adds up.

^^ since this little paragraph, i don't have exacts to prove it, you can ignore

Anyway, I'm going off topic.

Then finally, I had made this post, which I then reblogged. Which states that when I pressed 'block sender' on one of those anon asks, they all disappeared too.

So every single one of those anons was the same fucking person and at this point, like come on. Does she have some crazy fan that has singlehandedly been defending her honour in my inbox consistently over several days? Like how am I supposed to not think it's her?

Additionally, I feel like she'd be quick to say she's being 'framed', but in one of the earlier examples, where she was online at the same time as anon, the anon ask i got was a few minutes prior to her post. and how would they know she'd be online in a few minutes, to then decide to send me an ask?? They'd have to be some crazy mind reader that predicts when she posts, to perfectly time an ask to frame her.

That connected with everything else just makes it so blatant.

And so if I've messaged you and then you continue spamming me, you're a lost cause, there's no getting around it other than blocking you again.

So I reblogged that post ^^ (because I was honestly laughing at how crazy someone has to be to go to those lengths, on tumblr of all places), blocked her and in the same second, she blocked me too.

So you're not in my inbox, but you ignore my message, your chance to defend yourself and then block me after refreshing my page and seeing me confirm again that I know it's the same person sending those asks...hm okay.

Personally, if it were me, I'd want to defend myself if I was innocent. And I gave you that chance to have a conversation privately.

But instead, you block me, someone who's profile i'm sure you'll say you've never seen, on 0 grounds, other than the fact that I think you're harassing me, makes you look even more guilty. But hey, maybe it's just me.

In my opinion, with all of that, it's so painfully obvious that it was clitfilms constantly doing this to me, but take it however you want.

I just can't stand to see people doing stuff like this and then trying to act like it's not them. Take some accountability like damn girl.

On that post of hers (with my post linked), after her rant, she tags it with this, yet she's the one in my inbox.

If she can lie and do that to me, what else can she do? Which is why I feel the need to say something, before clitfilms does it again to someone else.

[otomehoneyybearr]

Act 12

Episode 10: Decision Time

Working w/ Maybelle Lace

Note: As you read, you will see that some sentences highlighted in a different color, this is what they indicate.

Pink: Flashback

Blue: Characters are acting

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

Tenma: I can’t believe a board member was behind all of this...

Banri: Shit. It’s been that guy, all this time.

Sakuya: Amadate...

Izumi: Are you okay?

Sakuya: It's hard to believe, but it's the truth...

Izumi: I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier.

Sakuya: No, it's fine. It’s surprising, but I have to accept reality...

Syu: It's unfortunate that we're in a situation like this.

Zen: Originally, we planned to deal with it ourselves.

Hiro: Sorry for causing you trouble.

Kasumi: I'm sorry that we put you all in danger.

Izumi: There's no need, it's not your fault...!

Syu: But this is the seed we sowed. We were supposed to corner him, but we got outsmarted.

Syu: It may take a while, but we will definitely take responsibility and drag him out.

Hiro: You all of the next generation shouldn't become a repeat of what happened to us, the first generation.

Hiro: If you all become torn apart, you will just give him exactly what he wants.

Izumi: ——I see what you mean.

Izumi: But, let me just say one thing. We call ourselves the first generation and the new generation, but aren't we all a part of the same Mankai Company?

Izumi: We can't just leave these matters to you guys.

Izumi: The new generation has faced a lot of hurdles up until now, but each time we all talked it over and worked together to get through it.

Izumi: I am sure we will be able to overcome it this time too.

Izumi: The new generation has strong members, and if we work together, we'll definitely be able to beat any opponent.

Banri: You can't just make the first generation look cool while ignoring us.

Tsumugi: We’ll fight too.

Tenma: Let us help you.

Sakuya: With all of us together, we will never lose!

Izumi: Once again, I would like to ask for everyone’s cooperation on this.

Izumi: As the general director, I will absolutely protect the Mankai Dormitory and Mankai Theater, where everyone's home is.

Izumi: So please, lend us your strength to overcome this crisis!

Sakyo: Obviously we’ll help.

Masumi: We'll do anything.

Yuki: Naturally.

Homare: Leave it to us.

Muku: I will do whatever I can to help!

Juza: I won't let ‘em hurt something important to me again.

Citron: If push comes to shove, we'll mobilize an army!

Itaru: How strong.

Guy: That may cause a diplomatic issue.

Syu: But there’s one thing we should be cautious about.

Syu: If the performance is canceled, the audience won’t be harmed, but the theater company members are a different issue.

Syu: Unless the troupe is disbanded, they will come after the troupe members. Nowadays, Amadate will stop at no lengths as long as it is a means to an end.

Syu: We won’t know what he’ll do next if he realizes that we’re still active despite canceling the performance.

Yuzo: We have to be very careful so that things don't end up the same way as they did before.

Izumi: ...

Izumi: (That's true... If the theater company continues any longer, everyone will be in danger.)

Izumi: (I don't want us to fall apart, and it's frustrating to have things go the way he wants...)

Izumi: (But in order to protect everyone, we may have no choice but to disband.)

......

Board Member A: I would never have thought that a theater company with so much promise would suffer such misfortune.

Board Member B: Their performance was supposed to start tomorrow, correct? The situation seems quite hopeless for them...

Board Member C: Do we have any more details on the situation?

Board Member D: There haven’t been any announcements from the theater company yet.

Board Member A: Hmm, I wish there was something we could do to support them...

Amadate: It's a tragic incident, however the board of directors can't support any particular theater company...

Chairman: ...

Chairman: Let’s move on to today's agenda. We will introduce our new board member candidates.

Reni: ...

Amadate: So the Chairman's recommendation was Kamikizaka.

Reni: ...

Amadate: ...What’s wrong?

Reni: ...It's nothing.

Chairman: Now then, each candidate, please give a brief introduction.

Board Candidate: That is all. Thank you.

Chairman: Next, is Kamikizaka.

Reni: I am Reni Kamikizaka. I am the founder and director of the GOD Troupe.

Reni: ...Having been in the theater industry for a long time, I know that the theater world is not as pristine as it seems.

Reni: I, myself, have engaged in acts that touch upon taboos that made me lose sight of myself just to surpass or undermine other theater troupes.

Reni: And I continue to regret those actions.

Reni: But that’s precisely why I want to dedicate myself to the actors and theater groups who earnestly devote themselves to the stage.

Amadate: It takes courage to confess your own mistakes. I am curious about the details of this.

Amadate: But do you really think someone who has made mistakes can get votes?

Reni: Because I can never change what I did in the past, I want to sincerely dedicate myself to the future of the theater world.

Reni: ...And I vow to never overlook the presence of those who, like me, have made such mistakes and lurk in the darkness.

Amadate: ...

Reni: (However, since the deal with K fell through, I can’t continue the plan to expose Amadate.)

Reni: (After all, he’s a tricky opponent. I’ll have to work more carefully than I did before.)

Reni: (But I won’t give up. I WILL break his stronghold.)

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

Prev | Next

▼・ᴥ・▼

[oleworm]

on that post you've made - it almost like the burger place scenes are from the lens of Benson's eyes. Everything is taken to the extreme. The young couple aren't just inoffensive lovers who can't get their hands of each other, they are these inappropriate and sinister sex-crazed bullies, Kris isn't just some random jerk - there is a heavy innuendo (if not an explicit theme) to his abuse, the thirst for power and control. The girl is wearing those stereotypical "sexy" clothes (which would be inoffensive and totally fine in any other setting, but contribute to the overexposure of the moment), is all over her man and acts like his cheerleader in violence - a caricature of sorts, too. The manager is all about sex, hiding it behind propriety of a light suit. All while sex is heavily implied to be something negative in B's view - he borderline says so himself. But it's everywhere in that place, unavoidable. You can't even ignore it, stick to your routine and shut down the outside world - because it would be forced upon you by one of them through violence. The boundaries and consent are not very well respected there, to say the least.

All of this stuff happens in like, 5 min - to the point of being unrealistic and hyperbolic. The whole place has those heavy oppressing color of emergency yellow, they have burgers on their hats like targets, like they themselves are food, the secondary characters are so caricaturistic they feel like an explicit parody. It's all really surreal and bizarre, like inferno for someone with a trauma, lol. And then it all stops when the camera floats out of that place and into the wild - suddenly, people are friendly and nice, the lights are bright, the colours are normal and pretty with limited yellow highlights (thinking about the candies in the glass jar at the school's office - the colour of the sweater B wears as he is standing right next to them). It's like, when you have trauma, if something triggers your memory, normal things grow extreme, become overwhelming, a drop of red paint feels like dying, etc - then the panic ends and the world is normal again. But it's a movie so everything is taken to the extreme for drama.

You’re completely on point when you talk about these characters as caricatures, or caricaturistic. It felt that way to me too. They did not look like they were intended to look like real people to me. Jess’s loud and exaggerated screams, the gallons sprayed of blood a nod to slasher horror, which makes sense when you think that the studio that funded this film mostly makes horror movies. Then the film takes a different turn, focusing on the more mundane and real-life horrors.

It's not difficult to become disturbed when you’re faced with constant reminders of the traumatic events that shaped your life for the worse. And maybe I didn’t express myself very clearly, but that is exactly what I felt too—that Benson was focusing on these things because they are the ones that stand out to him, and that the filmmakers were intentionally bringing these elements to the fore. If you met someone like Chris in real life, you’d probably think he was an asshole. Keep to yourself, report him if he went too far. But that’s another thing that adds to the comparison of Benson’s past with his current setting. Hardy is aware of the hostile dynamics at play and doesn’t care, so if anyone actually thought to say something about it, they wouldn’t have anyone to turn to. If the boss is in on it, what do you do? Who do you tell? Does that remind you of anything?

I don’t know if I am reading too much into it. But yes, the way it was filmed, also, made me think of when a stimulus brings back a memory. It takes you out of yourself and at the same time turns you inward. When Benson walks out to his car, he is not only walking toward the gun and towards death but also walking away from the scene that so disturbed him. I think that though he might have decided that now he was really going to do it he also needed to physically remove himself from the situation because it overwhelmed him.

There’s this short clip that I liked, right after Benson and Randy take the bodies to the freezer. They’re mopping and sponging the blood off the floor, off the walls, and if it were not for the red you would think that it’s a normal workday. They’ve closed for the day but they’re heading home soon. They’re working side by side, wordlessly, in a way that I imagine them doing in better moments. But at the same time, I imagine that they’re thinking “I can’t believe I did that,” or “I can’t believe that happened.” And trying to ground themselves and keep it together.

I love what you say about the colour yellow. It makes me sick! I love it. I feel like this film took out my appendix. I need to rewatch some scenes, but now I am getting sleepy. Will answer that part (and your other messages) tomorrow.

[chaotictarlos]

show off

ship: Tarlos | fandom: 911 Lone Star | author: chaotictarlos | read on ao3

Rating: Explicit | Warnings/Tags: Carlos’ tits in THAT shirt, spanking, dirty talk, anal sex, anal fingering, use of the word “slut / slutty”, oral sex, teasing, m x m smut, m x m sex

Summary: Carlos and TK are invited to an event and he gets a new outfit that's meat to tease TK.

Author's Note: This was 100% inspired by Rafa's GLAAD award outfit because it was a 1000/10 fit. Thank you to the TWP discord, @mooshkat, @cowlos-reyes, @thebumblecee, and @paperstorm for listening to me complain about how my smutty fic decided to go off and have plot included in it and for dealing with the stupid amount of sneak peaks I sent. And thank you to the anon who sent me an ask about how Rafa's outfit made them think of me and my slutty Carlos series! I loved getting that! This fic was really fun to write! I hope you all enjoy it!

Thank you to @lightningboltreader for foregoing work to beta this. Hope it was worth it lmao

Part of the "We can get a little crazy just for fun" universe

----

When Carlos and TK receive the invitation to the Austin LGBT+ Gala, Carlos decides that it’s the perfect excuse to buy a new outfit - without TK knowing. He’s always looking for ways to tease his husband and wearing clothes that he knows TK will deem “slutty” is a great way to do that.

He makes sure to hide his outfit in the back of the closet so that TK has no chance of seeing it and only gets it out on the night of the gala. Carlos waits for TK to get ready, shooing him out of the bedroom and telling him that he wants him to be surprised when he sees the outfit for the first time.

Carlos pulls on a pair of black boxers before pulling on his new pants. They’re black, simple and high-waisted. Classy enough for a night on the town but tight enough to get his husband's mouth watering. Next, he pulls out the shirt, really it’s the main piece of the entire outfit because he knows that TK’s going to have words about it.

He pulls it over his head and tucks it into his pants before looking in the mirror. The shirt is long sleeve and made of black velvet, but what Carlos likes most about it is the deep v-cut that it has. The v-cut allows for his pecs to be highlighted, showing off just enough that it could still be a little classy, but it mostly leans on the slutty, “look at me” side that he knows will get TK all riled up. 

Carlos slips into their bathroom and takes his time styling his hair, taming his curls to lay tastefully against his head. He spritzes on the cologne that he knows makes TK crazy every time he uses it and takes a step back to look at himself in the mirror. He looks good and his pecs look delicious in the shirt. He knows that he’s made the right decision in buying it - it’ll get him exactly what he wants.

“Babe! Come on, we need to leave soon,” TK calls from the next room.

Carlos takes one more look before he gives himself a nod, deciding that everything is just how he wants it to be.

With a smirk on his lips, Carlos makes his way out to the living room where TK is looking at himself in the mirror, fixing his hair again. When it takes a few moments for TK to notice him, Carlos clears his throat.

Carlos bites his lip and keeps his eyes trained intently on TK as he watches him turn around. He enjoys the way TK drags his eyes down his body and up again, and how they darken when they notice the outfit that he’s dressed in. TK closes the distance between them quickly, hand reaching out to run down the center of Carlos’ chest. Carlos lets out a needy little sound, licking his lips as he leans into the touch.

“Is this a new shirt?” TK asks, his voice rough and controlled in a way that Carlos is very familiar with.

READ MORE ON AO3

tags: @strangefurychaos @sapphire11 @first-kanaphan @noxsoulmate @rangergurlgleek1211 @detective-giggles @tarlos-spain @lonestardust @bubblesandroses8 @thebumblecee @mooshkat @importantbailiffpaperpony @cowlos-reyes @meditating-honey-badger @paperstorm @otter-love-asl @kiloskywalker @angeltk

[espithewarlock]

Hello! I loved Deep Dive (and the first Mermaid!Charles fic of course) and am taking you up on your request for prompts related to that au. 😊 If you’d like, I’m curious about Max’s POV for (a) the decision to tell Marko about/capture Charles (like - how did he think that would go?!??), and (b) what his whole deal with Daniel is (does he think Daniel isn’t seriously into him or what?). If you’re not interested in those things no worries, and thanks for the lovely hours I got to spend in that world - it really helped distract me yesterday when I was otherwise in an angst spiral about some stuff happening today.

Hello! Thank you so much for the ask! It means a ton to me that these stories helped you in some way, shape, or form. I hope that things are looking up for you! 💚

I’m going to answer these in reverse, so apologies for inflicting you with my chaos!

For B - Max has a lot of…weird hang-ups on relationships. In this AU, his home life wasn’t exactly the beacon of positive, healthy romantic relationships to say the least. Then, in high-school & university he was always comparing and trying to differentiate himself from Pierre. 

After one too many rejections, (and a couple of people trying to get close to him to get close to Pierre) he sort of built an identity out of being “above” or “better than” romantic relationships. He didn’t think anyone could be interested in him, so he resolved to not be interested in any relationship. 

Thankfully, Daniel is also a stubborn bastard and can see the goofy, carefree, loveable side of Max that he lets slip around his friends. I combined your prompt with Daniel meeting Charles in this chapter and I hope you enjoy it!

Now A is something I’ve thought about. A lot. And I’m probably not going to actually write the snippet because it’s not a happy one. Max is selfish, more than a bit of a bastard, and I don’t like thinking about how he completely discarded his friendship with Pierre. The highlights look something like this:

Max makes the connection that Pierre is visiting with Charles on his lunch breaks when he sees the picture Pierre finally shares with them at Trivia night

He tries following him a few times, then finally has success and sees Charles

In shock, the first person he runs into is Dr. Marko and he basically blurts out the secret that mermaids exist without thinking

One thing leads to another, and before he knows it, he’s making plans to capture and study Charles

At one point, guilt and doubt start to creep in, he second guesses what he’s doing, but Dr. Marko talks him out of it. Basically convinces Max that his friendship with Pierre is holding him back and he’ll never find success if he’s tied down like that

It’s very reminiscent of things his father has said about achieving success, so Max basically shoves all those feelings away and focuses on the plan

After Charles is captured, Max is hit with a ton of guilt when his friends ALL choose Pierre over him. Instead of apologizing, he doubles down and stubbornly tells himself that he doesn’t need them. He’s going to be famous and they’ll all wish they sided with him.

Over the months that Charles is in the lab, he sees little glimpses of the care Pierre and Charles have for each other and how much Pierre is destroying himself over this

Max realizes about 6 months in that he truly fucked up. He hasn’t gotten a single text from a non-family member in that length of time and that’s when he decides to do what he can to fix it.

Everything else pretty much happens on-screen. Max helps with the escape and slowly re-integrates into his friend group. It still takes him a while to get together with Daniel, but at least he has support from his friends for that one.

I hope this satisfies your prompt request! I've got a few more prompts in the queue and feel free to send me anything else you're interested in reading!

[enjolrasofficial]

i saw you’re currently reading the captive prince and now i have to ask: do you think it’s worth the read? like i remember reading it at sixteen thinking ‘what the shitfuck is this?!?!’, like i hated it, absolutely hated it. but i have no recollection of the plot or anything other than my dislike. and i have had people tell me that they like it a lot, so i’m considering a reread simply to either cement my dislike or change it. would love to hear your thoughts on it just out of curiosity!

Heyyyy omg thank you for asking bc i have LOTS of thoughts about captive prince and i'm ALWAYS ready to rant about it!!

okay so i have very strong opinions about cp (and i need to warn you i've read it like 30 times in the past 7 years). the thing is. most people who say they hate it read the book with the wrong context notion. especially the first book . which is exactly why i give everyone who wants to read it and asks me about it the full trigger warning list and the disclaimer to NOT read the first book as a romance novel. (which is why i get very angry randomly when i remember that audible sorts the first book into the erotica genre which it decidedly isn't imo)

cp being sorted into erotica makes me so mad bc book one is a lot of things but NOT erotica. everything that happens in that book is to show the recipient the worst parts of both the akielon and vetretian cultures and societies and their practices. it introduces the reader the protagonists (well mostly damen but i will talk about that later) and outlines their struggles and motives. so i usually read the first book as something akin to a thriller and/or critique of the society bc nothing that happens in the first book is happy or sweet or erotic or lighthearted or romantic. it's all terrible, terrifying and just plain horror and i feel like that's also what the first book is SUPPOSED to convey.

book 2&3 are where the protagonists and circumstance both change. the protagonists learn and grow BECUASE they're removed from the awful court society and the circumstances they'd been thrown in by intrigues and fate. non of this change in them could've happened if they'd stayed in Arles. it shows the reader that the way they change each other and grow away from their respective cultures is a good thing bc both societies have MASSIVE FLAWS which are highlighted to excess in book one (and which is also commented on in the bonus short stories)

so yes if you read all three books as romance when you first read them i understand why you would've been disturbed by them as everything that happens in the first book is VERY disturbing and massive parts of the second and third book are quite disturbing too. However if one reads it under the prerequisite one would read let's say the hunger games (or any dystopian novel) under i wouldn't say it gets less disturbing but the reader suddenly uncovers a whole other layer of the book.

also i personally think that they get so much better (not in the sense of that it gets less disturbing but more so which makes the story better imo) with every reread bc you know so much more about laurent and his motives and his reactions and why he acts the way he acts whereas the reader now KNOWS the ways in which damen actively misinterprets laurents actions which is SO BRILLIANT bc it shows us that a) damen TRIES and he's a good guy but also that he's an absolutely unreliable narrator bc his experiences were so different from laurents and b) just how much laurent is struggling with the fact that he KNOWS and i love it i reread it SO OFTEN

also sorry this got a little longer than planned oopsie ly have a nice day 🤍

[welcomehomefindings]

Welcome Home ARG Findings 2

Below, I will list what I noticed that I haven’t seen anyone talk about before. I will list these under a spoiler. Do not read ahead if you want to figure out and find things on your own!

Today’s update is going to be brief, as I don’t have much to share. But I do want to get out what I have found and figured out since my last post.

First things first, I’ve been trying to figure out how the numbers of the “signature” fit into the puzzle. If you didn’t read my last post or need a refresher, I found that the “signature” in one of the images on the website wasn’t actually a signature at all, but a set of numbers placed on top of each other. The numbers, from what I could tell, were 6, 7, 3, and 5. My initial thought was to try to see if these corresponded to any sort of url, much like the misplaced letters on the website do. However, I tried every possible combination of these 4 numbers and found nothing. So as of right now, I still do not know what these are meant for but rather, we at least know what they’re NOT meant for.

The next thing I actually noticed before my first post, but completely forgot to include as I kept that one entirely focused on the slideshow images. This bit is hidden within the gif of Frank’s head spinning on the About Us page. On the books in the bottom right are a series of messages disguised as the books’ titles. Here is a closer look at the books themselves.

From what I can tell, it reads out in order as:

HELLO It’s You Know Who? I’m Your Neighbor. Do you ____ about me? You do. I see you

I can’t tell exactly what the third word of the fourth one is. We believe it’s either “know” or “think”, but it’s too crunchy and blurry for me to make it out as any exact word. So I’ve chosen to leave it as a blank in the transcription.

The last thing I’ll be adding to this post is another observation from the slideshow images that I completely forgot to include with the others due to how excited I was over finding the hidden words. This finding is in the very first image, and is particulaly just an observation that has me a little intrigued. You see, in this image of the slideshow we have several different merchandise items shown off. Each has a little letter placed on it in the advertisement, and the letters lead to descriptions of the items in the lower left of the image. This text is typically far too small to really make out, but by zooming in using my browser, I was able to identify what it says and the fact that there’s one certain item cut off and/or left out of this image. Whether intentionally or unintentionally done, it’s piqued my interest.

In the image, there’s 4 letters attached to the various items. I’ve highlighted them below.

A is attached to the little cut-outs, B is on the record, C is on the house, and D is seemingly attached to the puppet that is holding the record as there’s nothing else there for it to be for. To note, the letter D is not included in the item descriptions in the image. Only A, B, and C are included. I’m not sure if it was left out or if it was cut-off by the bottom of the image. Below is a zoomed in screenshot of the descriptions in the bottom left.

As you can see, D is excluded in the description. I can’t help but feel like if they didn’t want us to notice it, they wouldn’t have included the letter D on the image, or would have included the description for it with the other letters. It’s a little hard to make out what it says unless you look at it really close and focus, but I’ve typed out what it says below.

A. SALLY STARLET AND EDDIE DEAR can be played with for hours with their fellow cut-out neighbors! Included in the #3 "The Welcome Home Dailies" activity booklet. Howdy Pillar included. B. SING-WITH-WALLY RECORD lets yous sing along with Wally Darling and the cavalcade of colorful cast members from "Welcome Home." Includes 7-inch 45 rpm vinyl record with five memorable songs. C. HOME is a darling house fit for the most darling neighbor. One of eight houses to play and place on the WELCOME HOME TM PLAYMAT. Wally Darling included. Wood/Plastic.

That’s all that I’ve noticed that I haven’t seen others mention. Thank you so much for taking the time to read, and I sincerely Welcome you Home~

[tparadox]

While I was able to use the holiday Monday at work to catch up on stuff I haven't been able to do in the last six weeks I've been doing my job alone, I spent way more of that time than I wanted to in trying to find a way around Excel breaking my labor saving spreadsheet by refusing to follow its own rules.

I help out my supervisor by turning the reports our phone system generates into a chart of call times she can analyze for coverage purposes. There are two hurdles the way it generates the reports creates. One of them is that the date, beginning time, and ending time, are all in the same cell of its line, and the other is that if there's no active call time in that span, it will more likely than not skip that span.

The easiest way I've come up with to find those times it skipped is to break up the time stamps into separate date, start, and stop cells, and then use conditional formatting to highlight the start times that are different from the end time of the line above. Originally I was using text to columns to do this, but then I decided I wanted to automate that. I set up a spreadsheet that would take the file name of the report and fetch the date and time cell from it, then an array of cells using the MID function to pull out the individual pieces of it.

It worked great! I could just tell it the file to look at and it got the data I needed. And then I'd go to add a line for a skipped time span and all of the formulas would break, because they were referenced based on the line number, and Excel ever so helpfully updates those references when your data moves. But it's okay because if you don't want the reference to be updated, there's a character for that. To keep the same line number, use B$2 instead of B2.

I worked out a fancy formula with INDIRECT, LEFT, and the new to me FORMULATEXT function to automatically assemble a new version of the formula with the crucial absolute reference for each row, since the absolute meant it wouldn't update by line if I just filled down and I was not going into over 300 cells to add one character by hand.

EXCEPT! Marking the reference as absolute only freezes the reference for pasting and directional filling! It turns out it totally ignores the $ if you're shifting and inserting! Excel broke my plans because it doesn't follow its own rules!

After like two hours of beating my head against it and reading a bunch of forum help threads where the answer was "just use INDIRECT" when I was already using INDIRECT, using COUNTIF to count only the cells above that had data in them seemed promising, but it kept giving reference errors as part of the INDIRECT, probably because the COUNTIF syntax needs you to tell it what to look for, and I think the quotation marks around the asterisk weren't playing nicely with the quotation marks of the INDIRECT even though I was using " for the latter and ' for the former. Finally I started looking into other COUNT_____ functions and it turns out that plan old COUNT does exactly what I was looking for. Where "count cells that have data" with COUNTIF needs you to specify cells containing "*", COUNT just does it. By some miracle, I found the right syntax to have the INDIRECT assemble the COUNT with a range from B1 to (current cell) in only one or two tries, and now I finally have a formula that doesn't care if I add lines which are empty in the column it's looking at.

Now I just need to automate adding the missing rows and filling in the zero values in the column I'm doing this all for, but that seems beyond what I can do with just Excel on its own. Seems like something that would be simple to execute in Python if I export a CSV, and if I could get anything to work in VBasic I could probably do a macro, but I'd prefer not to step it out of Excel and back in, and I don't think our workstations have Python, and if they don't have it, I can't add it...

[yourlocalseo-blog]

Optimizing Ad Copy

Optimizing ad copy is essential for improving the performance of your ads, including click-through rates (CTR), Quality Scores, and conversion rates. Effective ad copy is clear, engaging, and directly addresses the needs and interests of your target audience. Here are some key strategies for optimizing your ad copy:

1. Understand Your Audience

- Identify Pain Points and Needs: Know your audience's challenges and desires. Tailor your ad copy to speak directly to these points, offering solutions or highlighting benefits that resonate with them. - Use Audience Language: Use the language and terminology that your audience uses. This helps make your ad feel more relatable and relevant. 2. Highlight Unique Selling Propositions (USPs) - Differentiate Your Offer: Clearly communicate what sets your product or service apart from competitors. Whether it's a unique feature, superior quality, pricing, or exceptional service, make sure your USPs are front and center in your ad copy. 3. Include Keywords - Relevant Keywords: Incorporate the primary keywords from your ad group into your ad copy, particularly in the headline. This improves relevance and can enhance Quality Scores. - Avoid Keyword Stuffing: While keywords are important, avoid overloading your ad with them. The ad should still read naturally and be appealing to the user. 4. Craft Compelling Headlines - Catch Attention: The headline is often the first thing users see. Make it compelling and relevant, ensuring it grabs attention and encourages further reading. - Use Action Words: Verbs like "discover," "save," "get," and "learn" can prompt users to take action. Pair these with your offer to create a sense of urgency or interest. 5. Utilize Emotional Triggers - Appeal to Emotions: Emotions can drive decision-making. Depending on your product or service, appeal to emotions like excitement, fear of missing out (FOMO), comfort, or happiness. 6. Clear and Compelling Call-to-Action (CTA) - Strong CTAs: Your ad copy should include a clear call-to-action that tells users exactly what to do next, such as "Buy Now," "Sign Up Today," or "Get a Free Quote." - Create Urgency: Phrases like "Limited Time Offer," "Act Now," or "While Supplies Last" can encourage users to act quickly. 7. Leverage Numbers and Data - Specificity: Use numbers to add credibility and specificity. For example, "Save 20%," "Join 1,000+ satisfied customers," or "In business for over 20 years." - Evidence of Benefits: Use statistics or data points in your ad copy text that demonstrate the benefits or effectiveness of your product or service. 8. Incorporate Social Proof - Testimonials and Reviews: Mention awards, endorsements, or customer testimonials to build trust and credibility. - Popularity: Highlight the popularity of your product or service, such as "Best-seller" or "Most popular choice." 9. A/B Testing - Test Variations: Regularly test different versions of your ad copy to see which performs better. This includes testing different headlines, CTAs, and descriptions. - Use Data-Driven Decisions: Base your optimizations on actual performance data, such as CTR, conversion rate, and cost per acquisition (CPA). 10. Keep It Simple and Direct - Concise Messaging: Online users have short attention spans. Keep your ad copy concise, focusing on the most important message you want to convey. - Avoid Jargon: Use simple, clear language that is easy to understand. Avoid industry jargon or complex terms that might confuse the reader. 11. Align with Landing Pages - Consistent Messaging: Ensure that the messaging and tone of your ad copy are consistent with the landing page it directs to. This creates a seamless experience and reduces bounce rates. - Reinforce the CTA: The action prompted in the ad copy should be easy to follow through on the landing page. By implementing these strategies, you can create more effective ad copy that attracts clicks, engages users, and drives conversions, ultimately improving the overall performance of your ad campaigns. Read the full article

[servicesprintmail]

Effective Flyer Design Tips to Enhance Your Print and Mail Success

Flyers are a powerful marketing tool, capable of reaching a broad audience with your message. To maximize their impact, it’s essential to design them effectively. Here are some tips to enhance your flyer design for print and mail success.

Understand Your Audience

Before you start designing, understand who your audience is. Knowing their preferences, interests, and needs will guide your design choices. Tailoring your flyer to resonate with your target audience increases the likelihood of engagement and response.

Define Your Goal

Clarify the objective of your flyer. Whether you’re promoting an event, announcing a sale, or introducing a new product, having a clear goal will focus your design and messaging. This ensures that your flyer communicates its intended message effectively.

Catchy Headline

Your headline is the first thing people will notice. Make it bold, concise, and compelling. It should grab attention and entice the reader to learn more. Use large, readable fonts and consider incorporating color to make it stand out.

High-Quality Images

Visuals play a crucial role in flyer design. Use high-quality images that are relevant to your message. Avoid generic stock photos; instead, opt for images that reflect your brand and resonate with your audience. High-resolution images ensure that your flyer looks professional and appealing.

Clear and Concise Content

Keep your content brief and to the point. Use bullet points or short paragraphs to convey key information. Highlight the benefits of your offer and include a clear call-to-action (CTA). Your CTA should be specific and tell the reader exactly what you want them to do, such as “Call now,” “Visit our website,” or “Join us today.”

Use of Color

Color can significantly impact the effectiveness of your flyer. Choose a color scheme that aligns with your brand and is visually appealing. Use contrasting colors to highlight important information and ensure readability. Be mindful of the emotional responses different colors can evoke and use them to your advantage.

Typography

Select fonts that are easy to read and consistent with your brand identity. Avoid using too many different fonts; instead, stick to one or two complementary fonts. Ensure that the text size is large enough to be easily read, even from a distance.

Layout and Design

A well-organized layout is crucial for a successful flyer. Use grids and alignment to create a balanced and structured design. Ensure that there is enough white space to avoid a cluttered look. Group related information together and use headings and subheadings to guide the reader through the content.

Print Quality

The quality of printing can make or break your flyer’s success. Choose a reputable print service that uses high-quality paper and ink. Consider the type of finish that will best suit your design, whether it’s glossy, matte, or textured. High-quality printing enhances the overall appearance and professionalism of your flyer.

Personalization

Personalizing your flyers can significantly increase their impact. Use variable data printing to customize elements of your flyer, such as the recipient’s name or specific offers. Personalized flyers are more likely to catch the reader’s attention and elicit a response.

Distribution Strategy

Consider how you will distribute your flyers. Whether through direct mail, handouts, or in-store placement, ensure that your distribution method aligns with your target audience. Timing is also crucial; plan your distribution to coincide with relevant events or peak business periods.

Test and Refine

Before finalizing your flyer, test it with a small segment of your audience. Gather feedback and make necessary adjustments. A/B testing different designs or messages can provide valuable insights into what works best. Continuously refining your approach will lead to better results over time.

Conclusion

Effective flyer design is a blend of art and strategy. By understanding your audience, defining clear goals, and following best practices in design and content, you can create compelling flyers that drive engagement and achieve your marketing objectives. High-quality printing and a thoughtful distribution strategy further enhance the success of your flyer campaign. With these tips, you’re well on your way to creating impactful flyers that stand out and deliver results.

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[mccarthyplumbinggroup]

Binge-Learning; 7 business lessons I’ve learnt from the couch watching Netflix

I love watching TV. I love talking to friends and workmates about what ‘show’ they’re currently watching and get their advice on what I need to watch next. My husband and I always watch TV together at night, with a cup of tea. That means a). We have to agree on what to watch (he’s currently suffering through season 6 of Outlander) and b). If either of us are out for the night, we can’t watch that show without the other (that’s cheating). 

The kids don’t go to bed until 8.30pm now so we watch a family friendly show from 7.30pm-8.30pm, reducing our couples binge-watching show time from 8.30pm-9.30pm. After 9.30pm its Come Dine With Me or Anthony Bourdain for 10 mins wind down (yes, after TV wind down is a thing, especially after watching something like The Handmaids Tale).

All of the business books and life coaches say TV is bad and life-wasting and we should be reading a book or doing meditation or writing in a journal or Wim Hof-fing or something else to develop oneself. And that’s all great advice of course. But after a big day of client woes, late payers and HR headaches a TV show can be just what’s needed to desensitize you for an hour, and soothe your day before bedtime.

Some of that mind-numbing stuff will not only pacify you, but teach you some lessons in business when you least expect it, while you’re nestled under your hygge rug munching on a square of Cadbury fruit and nut. Here are some business tips I’ve learned from some of my favourite TV shows recently (spoiler alert!).

Formula 1: Drive to Survive – You’re Only As Good As Your Last Race

Drive to Survive is now in its 5th season and is a documentary series based on the behind-the-scenes happenings of the Formula One World Championship. The show has been so popular its driven Grand Prix attendance numbers and viewership of Formula 1 to new heights; pumping an extra US$1billion into the motorsport annually. The series highlights exactly how dispensable the drivers are; there are only a limited amount of ‘seats’ (20 per season, 2 per team). And whilst I stop short of feeling sorry for these pampered and famous multi-millionaires with homes in Monte Carlo, I do feel for how consumable they are by their teams.

Fan favourite, and one of the shining stars from the series is Australia’s Daniel Ricciardo. A fellow sandgroper, Daniel is the class clown of the program, a loveable larrikin and genuinely talented race car driver having won 8 Grand Prix victories. In his Formula 1 career he drove for Scuderia Toro Rosso, Red Bull Racing, Renault and McLaren. His history of changing teams and progressive decline has reduced him to now becoming the backup driver for Red Bull Racing (ironic, as he left Red Bull previously because he didn’t want to be driver number 2). Daniel hasn’t had a win since September 2021, and was replaced in 2022 by fellow Aussie up and comer Oscar Piastri. 

Not unlike in business, Daniel was only ever as good as his last race, which weren’t great in 2022. In business, we are only ever as good as our last client interaction. We could have 99 wonderful interactions with a client, but they will remember the last one, over everything, as it is freshest in mind. This is what we try and convey to our team, particularly honing in on the importance of the client experience and ensuring we give them a positive journey with our company. They’ll remember if they’ve had a good experience with our company, but if they’ve had a bad experience, they won’t just remember it, they’ll tell their friends about it. We’re currently reviewing our Client Experience Process to ensure its on point for 2023 as we’re only as good as our last race job.     

Below Deck – Safety First

We occasionally like a bit of trashy reality TV in our house, and there is no trashier than Below Deck. Based around ‘yachties’ working on superyachts in the Caribbean or Mediterranean, the series (there’s also been lots of spinoffs) showcases how the boat’s team members impress their wealthy clientele on charter by creating flawless experiences.  

There are a LOT of messages, and lessons learned from mistakes, around customer service. The end game for the yachties is to earn a tonne of cash from tips. The tips are based around the experience had by the clients. There are also loads of examples on teamwork, and how being a supportive team member can benefit everyone else, and how a toxic person/weak member can really let down a team if not managed correctly.

The biggest message I learnt from the show however was about safety. And not just safety, but the impact being unsafe can have on yourself and on others. In one episode, a deckhand stepped on a tow line which wrapped around his ankle, dragging him into the water. He could’ve lost his life, or at the very least his foot, from being towed by the yacht, had a cameraman not untangled the lines quickly giving him time to swim free of the ropes he was tangled in.

When my husband and I watched this scene we froze, I think I even started crying. Not over the happenings of a reality TV show, but the reality of workplace accidents and how one split decision could be so hazardous and lifechanging, or life ending. The Captain spoke and choked up about how lucky the deckhand was, and the importance of safety on boats. I had trouble sleeping that night, thinking about being in the Captain’s shoes and how devastated I’d be if one of our plumbers got seriously hurt or had a terrifying near miss, or worse. We ended up showing our team the clip at the following toolbox talk, in the hope that a bunch of good looking, tanned reality TV stars could convey such an important message that perhaps my monthly drone at a toolbox talk couldn’t.

Ted Lasso – Encouragement

I didn’t think I’d be a fan of this show as I thought it would have to much American slapstick humour, but it didn’t disappoint. The relegated British Premier League team plot appealed to me as I had worked for a Premier League Club in my previous pre-plumbing life, and that team was also relegated.

Ted is an American football coach, employed to manage the fictional AFC Richmond. Initially employed out of spite by the owner’s ex-wife in the hope he’d fail, Ted wins the hearts of the players, staff, fans and media with his ever-positive attitude, and thoughtfulness.

It’s not just me who took notes on Ted’s powerful management messages, his leadership advice has been written about by Forbes magazine and the Financial Review, because it’s so damn good. Ted is a great leader because he embodies empathy, positivity, and humility. He listens to his team members and genuinely cares about their well-being, both on and off the field. He also leads by example, showing his team how to treat each other with respect and kindness. Ted doesn't focus solely on winning but rather on the process and the growth of his team. He acknowledges his own mistakes and encourages his team to do the same, creating a culture of accountability and learning. Ultimately, Ted's leadership style fosters a strong sense of community and inspires his team to believe in themselves and each other.

I love how he encourages his players, and respects their opinions even if he doesn’t necessarily agree with them - “I appreciate you for saying that”. Ever gracious, and conscious of his team’s mental health, even if his own is failing.

Vikings – Grit

I could keep watching this show forever but unfortunately my husband zones out of everything after 3 seasons. Vikings loosely follows the old Norse legendary sagas, however instead of hundreds of different characters, the sagas tend to be depicted in one small community; Kattegat.

Vikings portrays the value of grit and determination through its depiction of the Viking warriors and their way of life. The characters face numerous obstacles and challenges, from battles and raids to harsh weather and difficult living conditions. Yet, they persist and push through these difficulties, relying on their strength, endurance, and resilience to overcome them. The show emphasizes the importance of mental and physical toughness, perseverance, and the willingness to sacrifice for a greater cause. The characters' determination to survive and thrive in a harsh and unforgiving environment underscores the value of grit and the rewards that come from enduring through adversity.

The trials and tribulations main character Ragnar Lothbrok and his family (wife Lagertha, best mate Floki and sons Bjorn, Ubbe and Ivar) have to endure is brutal. But they never, ever give up and through sheer grit and determination keep soldering on for the betterment of their community.

Running a small business relies on grit more than anything, especially in a post-pandemic, inflation rising, recession looming World. It’s a core value business owners require to get past that 1st, 5th, 10th year in business.

Clarkson’s Farm – Red tape

This show is a new favourite in our household, with one side of our family being dairy farmers from Colac, Victoria. Jeremy Clarkson, of Top Gear fame, lives on a property in the idyllic English farming village of Chipping Norton. Rather than continuing to subcontract his farm work out, he decided to learn to be a farmer himself. The show spans over three seasons of hilarity, showing Clarkson learning how to farm from scratch including how to drive farm machinery, grow crops, shear sheep, feed calves and pick vegetables.

What begins as a humorous journey, morphs into a serious message of the adversity farmers face in modern Britain. Firstly, Covid strikes, and every business owner knows what that means for businesses (everyone except Kleenex that is). Next, Brexit impacted the farm and local community of farmers; why buy a £10 pork roast when you could buy a £5 pork roast imported from Europe? Most consumers don’t care for supporting loyal when they’re struggling to support their families.

The cost of imported foods was discussed in later episodes; UK produce was taxed higher, and the farm businesses had to cut through more red tape and regulations than their European counterparts. There were various green taxes (eating into profits), pesticide bans (meaning crops were eaten by insects) and various levels of legislation and council regulations making it nearly impossible to grow and innovate.

It was refreshing to see that Clarkson had chosen to show the warts and all side of farming, and small business ownership, and his frank account of showing the viewer how almost impossible it would’ve been for him to proceed had he not been a millionaire. The show has done wonders for farmers in Britain, showcasing the local produce lifecycle to viewers, and also highlighting what regulations and red tape do to hinder growth and prosperity in small business.    

Peaky Blinders – Loyalty Isn’t Enough

If my entire family of sisters, cousins, aunties and uncles could choose a show we’d all watch together happily, we’d all choose Peaky Blinders. I don’t know if it’s the working class grimy British setting that reminds us of our grandparents’ humble beginnings, or the fact that its just a brilliant show.  

If you haven’t watched the show (where have you been?!) It tells the tale of the infamous Peaky Blinders gang in Birmingham, who hide razor blades in their peaked caps, ready to ‘blind’ their enemies with.

We should hate the peaky blinders; they are a band of violent brothers and their mates, bullying others and making their fortune from drugs and illegal betting. But for some reason we, the viewers, seem to turn a blind eye to the misdemeanors of Tommy Shelby and his brothers. Perhaps it’s because Tommy can be charming, intelligent and strategic; with the charisma of a Hollywood star. Or perhaps it’s because we feel sorry for Arthur, the perpetually downtrodden, traumatized underdog. For a good 4 seasons, the Peaky Blinders strength is their loyalty, to the cause (whatever that may be at the time) and to the family. But things change in the final few seasons, when loyalty is all but gone and their end up warring with former Chief Accountant, and cousin, Michael Gray.

For the Peaky Blinders, loyalty was EVERYTHING. But they relied on it too much and in the end it meant nothing as the post-war world was changing. I think of it akin to today’s current ‘employee market’; we as employers can’t just assume our employees will stay due to ‘loyalty’. We need to create a positive team culture, communicate regularly, reward and recognize, provide training and pay appropriately to begin to foster employee loyalty. Easier said than done, getting the mix right is challenging and we as business owners don’t always get it right, I put my hand up now saying my husband and I are no experts, we’re continuously learning and hopefully improving.   

The Founder – Systems and Processes

The final addition to my binge-learning favourites list was the movie The Founder. The Founder is the story of Ray Kroc, who turned the McDonald’s chain of restaurants into the goliath it is today. The movie shows Ray as an unremarkable milkshake maker salesman who chances upon a restaurant owned by the McDonald brothers.

After watching the brothers serving at their restaurant (with some genuine unique selling propositions over their local competitors), Ray gets the idea to franchise the restaurant, one that sends him on a trajectory of uber-wealth, amassing nearly $600M by the time of his death in 1984.

The movie shows how McDonald’s came to be the titan of systems and processes it is today, through having a standardized menu, robust staff training on how to follow specific procedures, using technology to streamline operations, and focusing on customers’ needs and preferences. Love or hate McDonald’s, they continue to dominate due to their dedication to the process. I may employ plumbers not hospitality workers, but if two near identical resumes come in and one has worked for McDonald’s previously, that one normally gets the phone call first. Why? Because the ability to follow systems and processes is a highly sought after, transferable skill.

The Netflix Effect: How Binge-Watching Can Teach You Business Lessons

So next time you feel a pang of guilt when you’re slouched over your hot chocolate on the couch, just think; binge-watching Netflix can provide practical lessons for business. By observing successful companies/people (such as Red Bull) and avoiding their mistakes, viewers can learn about leadership, teamwork, and innovation. The diverse range of characters from programs can also inspire creativity (Jeremy Clarkson) and empathy (Ted Lasso). It may never be as info-laden or insightful as a Stephen Covey or Robert Kiyosaki book, but it’s a fun and engaging way to gain practical lessons for success. I’ll still listen to my business books and podcasts on my commute to the office, but its Netflix & Chill during me time. Or is it more HBO & Merlot when you’re married?...

[yikimiki]

> made for me (+18)

Eren is utterly sure you’re made especially for him, and he’ll go above and beyond to take what’s his.

4k words ♡ eren x fem!reader ♡ dark content

⚠️ warnings: smut, dark themes, stalking, manipulation, yandere!eren, possessiveness, delusions, mentions of violence and death, dirty talk, fingering, unprotected sex, breeding, creampie, size kink, rough/desperate sex, noncon pregnancy kink

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

Eren thinks it’s quite pathetic how easy it is for him to track you down — well, to be fair, you did give him your address the first time you met.

Apartment 402, block B. Big brown building, number 671, two roads down from the shopping mall, turning left and then right, and then left again. The elevator was broken the first time he went there, so he had to go up about sixty steps to get to your floor. Third door to the right — the one with the white and purple welcome rug, and the pink flowers. You opened your door at exactly nine twenty four, one minute before your food delivery was due.

“Thank you so much, I’m starving!” You smiled, and you smiled so big and bright that Eren thought he finally understood the meaning of life. He barely even reacted when you reached out for the money over your counter, picking the heavy box from his hands, and said. “No need for change, it’s the right amount.”

Eren pretended to check, shuffling the coins around and looking at the paper, but his mind was paralyzed, focused on you. “All right,” he was speaking on autopilot now. “Have a good night, miss.”

You smiled again, and everything Eren wanted to do was to get down on one knee and ask you to marry him right away. “You too.”

And then your door closed. And his work started.

It took Eren five minutes to get back to his motorcycle, two minutes to check your name on the app again. It’s a pretty name, because of course it is. Your data is all there: full name, birthday, amount of times you ordered in this restaurant (three) and your consumer points. Nothing impressive, but somewhat active. There’s no picture, but that’s not an issue. Eren finds your socials right away, and saves the pages for when he’s alone at home.

Eren has never considered himself the dedicated type — one of the many reasons why he decided college wasn’t for him in the first place, and got that delivery job until he figured out what he wanted to do with his life — but, with you, it’s different. With you, he dedicates every passing second of his day thinking about you, learning about you. Your Instagram page is open, you have a modest amount of followers, and a handful of pictures — tells him that you’re not super interested in being hopelessly online, which he appreciates. Your stories and highlights are an open book of your personality, though — the books you read, the bands you like, the food you order, the friends you hang out with. Your Twitter is filled with corny jokes and random comments about your day, your job, someone who was particularly annoying in the line to catch the bus. It’s a perfect slice of you, a beginner’s course you made just for him.

Eren knows where you spend most of your days now, where you go for a bite and where you work out. He visits your apartment when you’re out — silly you to leave the spare key under the rug, it’s like you’re giving him a sign that you want for someone (him) to be swept into your life — and he finds out which medications you take, which panties you use. Eren practically knows your schedule by heart, and he has done his homework by reading some of the same books you mentioned in your socials, in case he needs some extra points. He wants to have something to talk to you about — he knows you’ll appreciate it.

The next step happens purely out of luck, and it convinces Eren that you two are truly meant to be; that the entire universe is working alongside him. It’s in a passing conversation between him and Jean, in which Eren forgets to close his Instagram app with your profile open, that he finds out that the man standing before you actually knows you. Jean knows you! Eren cannot believe his luck; cannot understand how someone as unremarkable as Jean has been chosen to have a taste of someone as special as you in his pathetic life. But well. Jean is a friend of a friend, not particularly close to you by any means, and he went out in a group (which included you) about two months ago. Eren’s rage spikes when he hears his friend talking about how hot you are, but it instantly subsides when Jean offers to introduce you two. Eren accepts it promptly.

The wait almost makes him pass out — nothing feels enough anymore, his desire to have you is consuming him like a paper to an open flame. His need has reached a thunderous crescendo and he doesn’t know what to do with it anymore.

At first, Eren thought his love for you is pure, platonic almost, but the world proved him wrong. You’re a temptress, he thinks, a demon sent down to set his soul on fire. Eren craves to discover how your skin feels against his, wishes he could touch your curves and sigh against your soft lips. Eren fists his cock every single night and cries out your name, wishing for all the gods above that he finally gets to feel your sweet little cunt all to himself.

He spills his seed all over his abs and thinks of you, you, you. You, as this siren dragging him to the depths; you, who was clearly handmade for him, from your body to your soul. You, who would surely appreciate all the lengths he’d go to just to keep you safe. Eren wonders if you’re a virgin — if you’re smart enough to have saved yourself for him. He asks himself, hand teasing his sensitive, spent cock, if he’ll be your first, if he’ll be able to claim your pussy as his. Even if you’re not, he’ll figure it out. You are his forever, you are made for him. No matter what came before.

♡ ♡ ♡

The party happens three months after his talk with Jean, and Eren doesn’t know how he was able to handle the impulse of breaking your door down and fucking you until you’re crying in the meantime. It’s a pathetic college party at the outskirts of the city, filled with drunken losers and incoherent music — the type he would never go to if it wasn’t for you — and part of him hopes that you’re also being dragged in there against your will.

“____, this is the guy I was telling you about: Eren,” Jean says, voice fighting past the loud thumping of the song. Eren almost chokes: he has been talking about him? What about? He hopes that hasn’t stained your image of him. “Eren, this is ___.”

Obviously, he knows. Eren knows everything about you.

“Nice to meet you,” once again, your smile makes all his worries dissipate. Your pretty eyes are blinking up at him, eyebrows coming down into a frown as you search for something on his face. Eren’s cheeks heat up, feeling like a cell under a microscope. “You look familiar, have we met before?”

He chuckles, and decides to play it safe — he doesn’t want to come across as too eager, especially now that he doesn’t know what has been said about him. “I don’t think so, I would’ve remembered.”

You bite your lower lip. Eren is pretty sure you’re just lying so you don’t look too overwhelmed to finally be rejoined with your one true soulmate. It’s okay. He understands. He knows what you’ve been through — thinking about him, desiring him — and he won’t rush it. Two can play this game. “That’s strange… I swear I’ve seen you somewhere.”

“Well, I…” Eren clears his throat. He should receive an oscar for his nervous-boy performance. He thinks you’ll find it endearing. “I work for a food delivery service, but I look pretty different with, you know, work clothes. Maybe something like that?”

Your eyes light up instantly. How adorable you are, pretending you don’t know that already. “That’s probably it! What a coincidence.”

He smiles right back. He is beyond elated that you remember him — it is the obvious sign that he means something to you as well, that you finally decided to stop these games. “Yeah. A huge coincidence,” he says, side-eyeing Jean, who instantly gets the cue to turn around and leave. Finally: you two are alone, an island of pure souls amongst so many lost ones. Eren swears he sees the halo around your head. “So, what are you doing at this party? Doesn’t seem like your type.”

You chuckle, crossing your arms. You smell sweet, just like Eren remembers. “My type? What do you mean?”

He shrugs. You have complained in your instagram captions and on twitter (precisely three weeks ago now) that you thought you weren’t built for college parties. “You seem like the serious type, that’s all.”

“Well… maybe,” you agree, crossing your arms. But you don’t answer beyond that. “And you?”

“Wanted to meet you,” it comes out of his mouth before he’s able to hold it back. Eren almost chokes on his own spit, and he sees the confusion plastered all over your face. You don’t seem scared, however. You look like you’re inviting him in, just like you had been doing for the past months.

“Meet me?” You echo.

He thinks quickly. “Yeah… it’s a bit embarrassing.” Eren itches the back of his head, right beneath where his hair is tied up. “Ever since Jean showed me a picture of you, I’ve kind of had a crush.”

“Ah.” Your face instantly relaxes, a small smirk curling up at the corner of your lips. Eren never wanted to kiss someone so badly in his entire life. But he can wait — at least for a little bit longer, he thinks you deserve a good amount of courting before he takes what is his. “That’s really cute.” Bingo. “Why don’t you tell me a little about yourself, Eren?”

And he does. Well, at least about the version of him he has handmade especially for you.

♡ ♡ ♡

Eren is not the bad guy — he knows he’s not. But he is not the best at self restraint either.

It’s a little controversial when taken into account the months of cold, torturous obsession he has endured because of you, but that was because he never had you so close. Never seen your gorgeous eyes staring up at him like he was made of marble and silver; your tender voice enveloping him like a warm blanket. It’s only a matter of time before he loses his cool, and he knows it.

Like he predicted, knowing about your interests proves to be the right choice. It’s after a specific reference about one of the books that you recommended — one that earns him the most gorgeous smile in the world — that he leans in, unable to stop himself, and crashes his lips against yours.

The kiss is sensual, slow; he wraps one arm around your waist and pulls you up against his toned body, keeping you close as your delicate fingers tangle in his hair. You taste like cherries and a little tinge of alcohol, the smell of your perfume intoxicates him like nothing else. Eren is utterly lost in your soft lips and, when he asks for entrance, they part right away, allowing for his tongue to brush against yours. You whimper against the kiss and his cock throbs inside his pants — it has been hard ever since he saw you for the first time — and he can’t help but back you up against a wall, deepening the kiss as his other hand pulls you closer by the neck.

Eren almost cums when you bite his lip, moving your head back so you can look into his green eyes. With a voice that sounds like an angel and a demon, you ask him to go upstairs and find somewhere private.

It’s a little frustrating, he thinks. Eren wanted to make your first time special, something you’d remember him by, something that would make it clear that you belong to one another forever. But now that he’s been tempted by this inccubus that lives within you, he cannot help but fold, taking you into a vacant room and tearing your clothes off until you’re naked and whimpering beneath his large figure.

“You’re so pretty, it’s like you’re not even real,” he rambles. The alcohol in his system thins his inner filter, but you don’t seem to mind. Your delicate hands are tangled in his hair, legs on either side of his waist as he leans closer, licking a fat stripe up your neck. “Tastes so good, too. Bet your pussy tastes even better.”

Your breath hitches at his filthy words, and you raise your hips slightly so your core brushes against his hard, still covered cock. Eren catches your drift and presses himself down against your clothed slith, slowly grinding against your mound.

“Pretty girl… all mine… made for me…” he trails off, placing small kisses down your chest. His eager hands are pressing your tits together, his tongue coming out to lick at your exposed nipples. You keen under his hold and arch your back, whimpering his name like a beautiful prayer, but Eren is too far gone to fully appreciate it. “Need to be inside you.”

“Please,” you whimper, eyelashes fluttering as you stare up at him. “I need you too.”

Of course you do. You are made for him, and he is made for you. This type of intimate union is the final stage of his claim over you — the first domino of a long sequence of events, if he’s lucky. Eren cannot contain his excitement as he leans back and pulls his pants down, tugging his underwear alongside it and throwing it aside.

He hasn’t removed his gaze away from you for one single second, and he watches as your eyes widen as they notice his cock spring free from his pants. Eren knows he’s big — bigger than average, for sure, with an equally threatening girth and heavy balls to match. And he knows what’s going on inside that pretty head of yours before you even utter that, “It’s not gonna fit.”

“I’ll make it fit. Open up,” Eren orders, but your legs stay hesitantly pulled together. He groans, impatient, and shoves your knees apart, placing himself between your thighs. “I said open.”

“Eren,” you whimper helplessly, watching as he sucks two fingers into his mouth before lowering them to your core. “Slow down.”

But he can’t, he can’t slow down. Not when you’re spread open and glistening before him, ready to be eaten up like a meal. Giving yourself to him. “Shit, look at this tight little pussy.” Eren slowly enters one finger inside you, feeling as your warm walls clench around him. His cock throbs in his hold, and he has to squeeze its base so he doesn’t cum on the spot. You’re too tight, there’s no way you have been fucked properly before. “Tell me you want it.”

You shiver, eyes closing as he fingers you open. “I want it, please.”

He shoves another finger inside, curling them up and making you yelp with the sudden rush of pleasure. He’s not satisfied. “Actually beg for it. Show me how much you need me.”

“Fuck me, Eren, please,” you sob, chest quivering with trembling breaths as he pumps his fingers in and out of your tight, perfect heat. It’s a half-assed prep, he knows that, but he’s not doing it with the intention to fully stretch you out. He wants to fuck you full of his cock, his cum, and he wants to feel you open up for him. “Please, I need your cock inside me.”

“That’s a good girl, you learn so fast,” Eren praises, quickly removing his fingers from your pussy and kneeling closer to you. He pushes your thighs over his, pumping his aching cock a few times before aligning it with your hole. You jump at the contact, mewling when he starts collecting your arousal. “Shhh, relax now. I’ll be gentle.”

But Eren really isn’t all that gentle — that primal, ancient need to claim you as his overtakes his bones, and he bullies his fat cock inside your cunt without further warning. “E-Eren, it hurts,” you yelp, nails digging into his biceps. Fuck, you are so warm. You take his cock so well, pussy throbbing around him. “You’re too b-big…”

“Shhh, baby, you got this.” He kisses your lips softly, pushing the rest of his cock inside. It twitches inside you as you moan out his name, legs trembling on either side of him as he slowly starts to set a pace. “There we go. Fuck. Deep inside this pussy.”

It feels so much better than he imagined — certainly so much better than his hand — and Eren has to use every ounce of self restraint not to cum inside you in seconds. It’s just so perfect: the sound of your wetness echoing around the room, the push and pull of your cunt, just sucking him in, as he fills you up again and again, finding his home inside your body. Eren wishes he could fuck you for the rest of times, until the stars burned out and only the two of you remained in the universe. He wishes for you to take his cum again and again until you’re full and leaking, until you’re crying for him to stop but he just won’t do it. The world could be ending and there was nothing able to tear him away from that sweet, tight cunt of yours.

“Eren, it’s so good,” you moan out, nails marking his arms as his pace increases, turning feverish, ferocious as he pounds your pussy. “Oh! Yeah, please, go h-harder,” you keen.

“Yeah? Fucking take it,” Eren groans. To anyone looking in, he’d look like a complete animal fucking you — fast, rough, possessively — his muscular figure dwarfing yours as he cages you in his arms like you’re his greatest gift. “Look at me. Look at me when I’m inside you.” He grabs you by the jaw, making you stare him in the eyes like the good little fucktoy that you are. Your gaze looks vacant, like you’re drowning in pleasure, and your lips fall open as his cockhead hits the right spot inside you. “Only think of me, you get it?”

You nod, bottom lip quivering as you throw your head back — but still keep eye contact with him. Such a good girl. “Your cock feels s-so good.” You’re trembling and trashing beneath him, both trying to pull away and into the pleasure he’s giving you. God, you’re flawless. Sculpted by the heavens above.

“Yeah? It’s yours,” Eren says, fingers digging into the flesh of your ass as he leans in, nose brushing yours. “You take it so well, baby, shit. Squeezing me so tight. Bet you want to be filled up so bad.”

Once again, you can only nod. Eren wants — needs — to mark you. He wants to carve his name on your chest, burn it on your limbs, write it all over your body. He wants to keep you inside his place forever (or maybe he could move into yours) so you’ll always stay safe, always stay with him. His heart feels like it’ll burst out of his chest because he feels as if he never loved something as deeply and madly as he loves you right now.

“You’re mine,” he groans against your ear, large hands grabbing your ass harder. Eren wants to crawl inside your skin and live there forever, wants to breathe your air, exist alongside you. His cock throbs inside your wet pussy and you whine, sharp nails digging into his biceps. “Tell me who the fuck you belong to.”

Your bottom lip shivers, but you reply. “Y-You.”

“And what’s my fucking name?” Eren asks, practically growling. He’s a fucking goner now, completely lost in the warm wetness if your hole. “Let everyone know who’s fucking you.”

“E-Eren!” You scream, which turns into an equally loud moan. He hopes the entire party knows you’re his. He’d murder anyone who came between the two of you. “Eren, fuck— I’m so close.”

Your airy, needy voice almost makes him release right away as well. “Cum for my cock,” he orders. “Cum right now. And don’t stop looking at me.”

Like magic, your pussy clamps down around his cock and you cum — hard. Eren succumbs into the constant, high-pitched sobs you’re producing; into the rhythmic clenching of your cunt around his shaft. You’re fucking shaking too — but, just like he asks, you keep looking into his eyes the entire time. It’s even better than he has imagined. It’s made for him.

“That’s right, I didn’t even have to train you,” he praises, leaning closer until his mouth is pressed against the skin of your neck. “Such a tight little pussy. I’m fucking addicted.” He groans, softly nibbling the skin. “It’s fucking mine, you hear me? This pussy’s mine.”

“Y-Yeah,” you moan, “I’m all yours.”

“Yes, yes.” Eren quickens his pace even more, reaching one hand towards the headboard to steady himself. The new support proves its worth when he feels himself digging even deeper inside your pussy, your eyes rolling back in a mixture of pain and pleasure as he fucks the high back into you. “Gonna cum inside you, baby. Gonna make you mine.”

You nod, and he can tell you’re out of it. But Eren doesn’t care — all that he can think about is filling you up with so much cum that you’re dripping out, so there’s no way you’re not getting knocked up. He wants to see you pregnant with his children, wants to make you a mommy, wants to suck on your tits until they’re filling his mouth with milk — his milk. You’re all his: body, mind, soul. You two belong together, and not even death can put you two apart. He knows it. He knows fate when he sees it.

“Fuck. I’m gonna cum, take all my c-cum like a good girl,” he wants, hips faltering as he buries his cock to the hilt inside you and releases thick waves of cum. You moan at the feeling of his length throbbing inside you, brushing against your cervix, before Eren comes back to his senses and milks a few more thrusts out of you. “That’s it, baby, fuck,” he moans. He’s filling you up with so much cum that it’s almost as if he hasn’t masturbated in months, but he knows his body has been saving up for you. He knows it’s meant to be. “Nice and full for me.”

Eren groans as he leans towards your spent figure, not even bothering to slip out as his cum starts to drip out of your abused hole. He likes this way better: likes staying connected with your body at all times.

“You belong to me.” He sighs, kissing your cheek. He knows that, when you shiver and whimper beneath him, you know that he’s speaking the truth. He knows that you understand that it’s meant to happen, that you belong together. “Forever.”

And yet forever feels like such a small period of time — but he supposes it’s a good place to start. After all, Eren knows so much about you — your favorite bands, your book recommendations, which bottles of lotion in your apartment are needing replacement (some of which he replaced himself, a small gift for you). Eren knows your address by heart. He knows the pills you take, knows which one is birth control. Knows you didn’t notice when he switched it up with vitamins a few weeks ago.

Eren is certain of his love, his endless devotion for you just like he knows that the sun will come up tomorrow. He knows you are meant for him, made from clay and molded into his perfect soulmate, like the universe intended. Eren knows you’ll have to stay with him now, now that he has claimed you for life.

No matter what stands in between, you are made for him.

[raifenlf]

Why Loki’s Sylvie Is A Mary Sue

So I am firmly in the camp that Sylvie on the Loki series was/is a Mary Sue.  The last episode made me feel better and like maybe the show was doing a thing where they were faking you out that she was a Mary Sue only to show she was actually sort of a bad guy and I liked that.  But all the recent interviews make me think the show wants to go back to her being a Mary Sue.

But I feel like when I call her out for being a Mary Sue people tell me what are you talking about, she’s not a Mary Sue, bad things happen to her, etc.  But that doesn’t actually make her not a Mary Sue.  

Also, before we start, I know some people find Mary Sue sexist.  But I personally use the term for guys and girls. I don’t use the term to belittle women.  I use the term to criticize a poorly written character.

And I know Mary Sue is often used to describe fanfic characters.  But to me, this series is kind of like a fanfic because the writers took a character who had been in canon MCU material for ten years and then created characters around that character.  So, I kind of review it like I would a fanfic.  It’s very different than if the writers had created a brand new show with all of their own new characters.

Anyway, if you are not totally familiar with the Mary Sue term, then check this out:

I know the term Mary Sue probably means different things to different people.  But I have always used these guidelines when I write my own fanfic to make sure my characters never come off as a Mary Sue.

This article really gives you a full scale of what a Mary Sue is.  If you start reading it, you’ll immediately see why Sylvie is.  But I’m going to take out the parts that most fit Sylvie just to highlight why I believe she is a Mary Sue.  I apologize for this being so long.

Mary Sue Character Traits

Personality

Erm... what personality? The typical Mary Sue doesn't have one per se, because she isn't meant to be a character; rather, she's an entity by which the author makes cool stuff happen.

I feel like that is Sylvie in a nutshell.  She doesn’t have a personality.  I feel like even though she ate screentime, I still don’t really know her at all.  The writers love to say she’s badass.  That’s not a personality.  

Sometimes when I am writing stories for fun and creating new characters, I like to take surveys as my fictional characters.  Like the kind of surveys you’d see in a magazine, like personality types, what’s your dating style, etc.  I figure if I don’t know what my character would do in any of those situations, then I need to keep working on my character.  And if I was trying to fill out a survey pretending I was Sylvie I would have no idea what to answer because she doesn’t have a personality.  She’s just “cool”.

What little personality a Mary Sue has isn't as important as how other characters react to it. No matter how shy or socially awkward Mary Sue is supposed to be, other characters will be inexplicably drawn to her

This is so Sylvie.  Loki falls in love with her...why, exactly?  He falls in love with her in the big Nexus event moment...why?  Because she had a tough childhood?  Mobius spends like two seconds with her in a car and goes from hating her to saying she’s his favorite Loki.  For. No. Particular. Reason.

She's extremely persuasive; everyone finds her opinions to be better than their own

She enchants Hunter B-15 and then immediately Hunter B-15 makes it her whole entire life mission to back Sylvie up.  

And occasionally she'll be a complete asshole...This can manifest itself in several ways...The author wants to write a badass but doesn't know how. This leads to a character who mistreats everyone around her and is never called out on her abrasive, casually abusive behavior.

Sylvie talked down to Loki and treated him like garbage for all of episode three, but it was never portrayed as a bad thing and we never got any impression Sylvie later felt bad for the way she treated Loki

The author doesn't know how to hold back the character, meaning that she will succeed at practically everything. This means that when she encounters rules or authority figures who would otherwise prevent her from doing what she wants to do, she rolls right through them (and they praise her for her "boldness" in defying regulations). If a bad guy is violent and aggressive, she can beat him by being more violent and aggressive (with all that entails). It's impossible for her to go overboard because she's protected by Protagonist-Centered Morality.

Sylvie is shown as a kid to immediately be able to grab a Tempad and run away.  And she can kick ass way better than Loki, for no known reason.  She is always able to fight back against the TVA when they attack her.  And she can kill lots of innocent TVA agents but it’s okay because TVA bad, Sylvie good.

Skills

She will always be superior to the canon characters, regardless of what canon has established they can do or whether it makes any sense.

Whose skill was needed to defeat Alioth?  Sylvie’s.  Of course.  Sylvie needed to teach Loki her skills in order for him to succeed (!).  And again, she is literally called the superior Loki.

Relatedly, there's no effort to her skills. She never actually trains or learns anything to become more powerful; she just wins the Super Power Lottery, or is a freakish natural learner, or is just Inexplicably Awesome

We’re told Sylvie literally taught herself magic.  She literally taught herself to enchant people.  That. Makes. No. Sense.  Like, I have so many questions.  Like, why would it even occur to her to teach herself that?  And how????????????  This is really lazy writing.

Canon Character Relationships

Mary Sue is often designed to hook up with another character, often as a form of Wish Fulfillment. This isn't that bad in and of itself (okay, it is kinda weird), but Mary Sue accomplishes this without any sense of realism. She just grabs her lover's attention straight away, and their relationship will never face any obstacles or tension; it's true love from the start and nothing else. The biggest giveaway is if the love interest is explicitly the author's favorite character, and she essentially "cures" him of all the angst that ails him (at the expense of his characterization).

Yeah, so...this one should be pretty obvious to anyone who watched the show.  Loki literally falls in love with Sylvie immediately, and then he suddenly turns from “villain” to “hero” just because of loving her.  And this was definitely at the expense of his characterization.  And Loki just knows he falls in love with her.  There’s not even any moments of hmm what do I feel for this person?  It’s just true love, immediately.

She will be related to a canon character in some way. This (marginally) helps explain such phenomena as her being a Copy Cat Sue and other characters accepting her so easily.

Sylvie is a Loki variant.  They use this to help explain why Loki is drawn to her and why their falling in love immediately “makes sense”.

Most characters give her more heed than they normally would. The good guys never stop praising her

Seriously, it was so over the top and OOC for Loki to gush over her.  He literally tells her she’s amazing.  They don’t even make it subtle.

Characters' previously established personalities change in reaction to her. Proud, arrogant gimps suddenly acknowledge her superiority in everything. Reckless youths will listen to all her advice. Responsible leaders will defer to her instead. Villains will obsess with her to the detriment of all else. Extremely competent characters will become stumbling buffoons who require her help to do anything. Sweet, mild-mannered characters whom the author doesn't like turn evil and insult her. They all become unnaturally focused on her in some way.

Again, Loki’s whole personality changed in reaction to her.  He became a buffoon who needed her help to enchant the Alioth because of course he couldn’t do anything without her!  Hunter B-15 goes from doing whatever the TVA said to fighting the TVA just because of Sylvie.

Story Elements

Mary Sue is without exception a single-person Spotlight-Stealing Squad. The entire story hinges on her existence; if you removed her, there would be no story. 

Sylvie undoubtedly drove the whole story this season.  It all became about HER meeting the TVA heads because of HER trauma.  Loki’s life was only saved at the beginning because the TVA was trying to capture HER.  And SHE was the one who started the whole multiverse (!).

Mary Sue is The Chosen One, even if the setting already has one. There are many ways she can accomplish this: she can be a Sailor Earth type who "shares" the position with the canon hero; she may be vaguely "destined to help the destined one fulfill their destiny" (i.e. do all the work except the final blow so that the prophecy is still technically correct); or the canon hero may be revealed to be a Fake Ultimate Hero all along. Being the Chosen One doesn't necessarily involve her being a God-Mode Sue, especially as authors become aware of the phenomenon and try to avoid it, but it does make her critically important to the world and allows her to continue stealing the spotlight without the "god mode" label.

HWR wanted Sylvie to come with Loki in the end, like she was chosen all along right alongside Loki.  Like one of the most important characters in the entire MCU is now this character who we only met a few episodes ago.

Most Sues have an unusually Dark and Troubled Past. It's often used to create a Sympathetic Sue, but any type of Sue can have one

They tell us, over and over, how hard Sylvie’s life was because she was kidnapped by the TVA in order to create sympathy for her.

She almost never does anything wrong. In the rare instance that she does, it's usually; (a) a way for the author to disclaim her being a Mary Sue by introducing a single imperfection (that has no bearing on anything anyway), and (b) designed to show her smarts by making her feel instant remorse, and she'll be Easily Forgiven anyway:

So this one hopefully will not come true, as a lot can change between now and when the show is taped. But if the show goes on the way the behind the scenes team is talking, Sylvie immediately felt remorse for betraying Loki, and Loki has already forgiven her and is desperately looking for her.  Ugh.

Alternatively, she is more than capable of doing something wrong, be it in general moral terms or something that goes against whatever code she abides by, and she maybe even frequently does so, but don't expect the other characters or the narrative to ever acknowledge or comment on it in any real capacity. If the other characters do call her out, expect them to be treated like they're the problem for daring to criticize her at all.

Mobius calls her out for killing people, but Sylvie immediately says he’s a bad person and then Mobius agrees, because, of course.

She will often suffer from Special Snowflake Syndrome; i.e., she has a trait or backstory that sets her apart from her group or race.

She is the only female Loki, thus making her the special one among all the Lokis in episode five.

Presentation

In visual media, the camera just can't stop staring at her.

The camera would follow her in fight scenes rather than Loki.

Mary Sue Tropes

Okay, so there are specific Mary Sue tropes that Sylvie is.  One of those is Copy Cat Sue, which I think was referenced before.

Copy Cat Sue

A lot of fanfic writers...start to write something because of their passion for this character, but they find something about the character that doesn't mesh well. Maybe they're the wrong gender or are otherwise not close enough to the author's expectations...In any case, rather than put them through the Possession Sue process, they just get a Clone-O-Matic™ and out pops a Copy Cat Sue...the character might be intended as a replacement for the canon character, but without whatever icky traits the author hates. They'll then rob the spotlight, prove the canon character to be unworthy of his/her position, and either relegate the character to obsolescence or, perhaps, even remove them entirely.

Sylvie is basically a clone of Loki, she is a variant.  But she absolutely robbed the spotlight of Loki’s, and they literally call her the superior Loki.  I mean, they are literally not even being subtle about this.  And there was a feeling by myself (and a lot of other viewers) that Sylvie might ultimately replace Loki in the MCU. 

Black Hole Sue

Much like a black hole, this is a Mary Sue who "sucks in" the plot and characters to her. Characters will behave outside their personalities, logic will be defied, and rules will be broken for her sake.

Sylvie really does suck up all the plot and Loki definitely behaves outside of his personality just to fit the Sylvie show.

Jerk Sue

A Mary Sue who is mean or maybe even cruel, but are still treated as an ideal person.

Once again, Sylvie is basically a jerk all of episode three, but you’ve got Loki falling over himself to call her amazing in just the next episode.

Relationship Sue

A Mary Sue who exists to be the perfect mate for a specific character...this character has everything in the plot conspiring to enforce this One True Pairing...in Fanfiction, they are the perfect beloved of a canon character.

They literally have Mobius speculate that Loki falling in love with Sylvie is so extraordinary that it causes an entire Nexus event, that’s how huge this One True Pairing is (!).  And Sylvie is the love interest of Loki, the only character who had been around before the beginning of the series

TLDR: Sylvie has all the tropes of a classic Mary Sue character.  So calling Sylvie a Mary Sue isn’t being sexist or just randomly hating on the character.  If you use common Mary Sue characteristics to examine the character, she just has too many of these characteristics to ignore.

[harrystylescherry]

In My Feelings Part Four

a/n: thank you so patiently for waiting! this bitch is here! and she’s like..novel length lol v quickly, i want to mention @serenityhues​ and thank B for always brightening up my day with things that remind her of imf! it seriously makes me soo happy and it means a lot :)

what it is: you and harry hate one another but that doesn’t stop you from fucking

warning: choking, cursing–i always feel like warnings can ruin the like, surprise or spoil the smut so im telling u now, if choking is too much for you, the other shit in this will not be for u either so read at ur own risk :)

word count: 23k

pls pls pls reblog if you liked it!

i’d love to hear your feedback :)

SERIES MASTERLIST

here we go:

October 27, 2020

You were sitting at your desk at work when your phone buzzed with a text from Sarah in the girls group chat.

Wine at mine tn? I’ll get pizza

Before you could respond, Charlotte had texted back that she would be there and you did the same. The day had been long and dreary, the London mist engulfing you every time you stepped outside. A night full of wine and friends was what you needed to turn it around.

You tried to ignore the texts that came barreling in for the next hour about what kind of pizza to order and what wine you should drink as you tried to brainstorm your next assignment.

You were meant to be working on a piece about the vintage clothing scene in London. It was actually supposed to be a two or three part piece, each one highlighting a different area in the city where the best vintage could be found. Later that week, you would be heading to Brick Lane to peruse the vintage market and small shops dotting the street that you were already way too familiar with in order to figure out who and what would be highlighted in the first part.

Finally, their tour rehearsals started up again and your phone stopped buzzing on the top of your desk.

You were meant to be at Sarah’s around eight, but it was eight-fifteen and you had yet to leave your place. Your day hadn’t gone well and it had put you in one of those moods where everything had to go exactly your way or else you would start crying. There was a staff meeting where all of the writers under Abby got yelled at for someone else’s mistake and then your computer at work crashed in the middle of you taking notes, then you stepped in a huge puddle in your new (well, secondhand, but new to you) Burberry heels. It was just one thing after the other and you were over the entire day. At that point, you didn’t even know if you still wanted to go to Sarah’s.

Which was why you were standing in front of your bed, hands on your hips, staring at the large pile of hoodies covering your comforter. The only one you wanted to wear was buried under a pile of dirty laundry in your hamper so wearing it was out of the question—but the thought of wearing any of your other ones made tears swell in your eyes.

You let your head fall back and let out a long groan before stomping over to the hamper in the corner of your apartment and starting to dig through it. You pulled out your black GOLF hoodie and pulled it on, completely ignoring the dirty laundry smell. The hoodie reminded you of your brother and you needed the comfort.

Before walking into your bathroom, you slipped on your Air Force Ones and then grabbed your perfume from its shelf. You sprayed a little too much and hoped it would save you before grabbing your bag and heading off to Sarah’s.

As you walked from the tube station to her place, you grumbled about the rain and held onto your hood to make sure it didn’t fall. You didn’t bother looking both ways before stepping into the street and when a car honked at you, the driver being forced to step on their breaks quickly, all you did was hold up your middle finger, not bothering to hurry your speed at all. You needed the wine. You needed it six hours ago while you were sitting at your desk, but better late than never.

You shivered as you stood on the steps of her building and held your thumb to the buzzer, refusing to release it until you heard the lock of the door click. You pushed down your hood as you walked to the elevator and tapped your foot in impatience as you rode it up to her floor.

When you reached her door, you started knocking—incessantly. Sarah opened the door with an exasperated look already on her face.

“What?” You asked as you walked past her and into her apartment.

“Hello to you too.” She said as she closed the door and followed you over where Charlotte was standing at the island.  

“You alright?” Charlotte reached for the pizza box.

You sighed, “Shit day.” You leaned forward and rested your elbows on the counter before dropping your chin into your hands.

Charlotte rubbed her hand up and down your back. “It’s a good thing we’ve got alcohol then.” She leaned in close to you, “Maybe we’ll even excuse the fact that you’re almost an hour late.”

You rolled your eyes in annoyance even though you heard the playfulness in her tone.

Sarah placed three glasses on the counter and opened the bottle of pinot. She poured one glass and handed it to Charlotte. She poured another and pulled it close to her before hugging the bottle to her chest. Her eyes fell on you.

“What?” You asked with your brow furrowed.

Charlotte moved to the end of the island and her eyes flickered between you and Sarah where you stood on either side. “Sarah…I don’t think tonight’s the night.”

You turned to Charlotte, even more confused. “Not the night for what?”

“You want the wine? Explain why you didn’t text me when you got home on Sunday night.”

Your head snapped over to Sarah and you raised your eyebrows. “What?”

“Sarah, she didn’t have a good day. Just drop it.” Charlotte shook her head.

“No.” Sarah’s eyes were still on you. “I told you to text me when you got home on Sunday and you didn’t. [After] you swore you had called an Uber. [After] we left you alone with Harry.”

The shock was evident on your face but your expression quickly transformed into one of anger. “So? I fucking forgot. I was drunk and tired.”

Sarah scoffed. “Sure.”

You tilted your head to the right. “Sure? What exactly are you implying, Sarah?”

Charlotte spoke up while Sarah’s eyes narrowed in on your face. “Sarah has a theory…that you and Harry are hooking up. Or that you have.”

You shook your head and your eyes widened. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Something was different on Sunday.” Sarah said.

“And I told you that nothing was going on. We were just being nice to one another. That’s all. You two are always pushing for us to get along and now that we are, you assume it’s because we’re fucking?”

“I saw the way he was with you on Sunday. And so did Charlotte.” Sarah pointed in her direction and your eyes followed. You looked at her expectantly.

“He just kept standing next to you!” She explained. “Willingly. And you two were, like, flirting or something. Joking around and he looked genuinely concerned about your parents and—“

“So he can’t be nice to me?” You cut her off. “We can’t be normal?”

“That’s not normal!” Sarah said, her annoyance and impatience evident. “What’s normal is the two of you not speaking. It’s him not wanting to be near you. It’s the two of you yelling at one another, causing a scene, one of you storming out, all of us slightly uncomfortable and you two wanting to get as far away from the other as possible. There was nothing normal about Sunday. It looked like he was touching you!”

“Well, he wasn’t!” You slammed your hands on the counter. You were so over the conversation. “We were being adults. We were being mature and being civil and, I don’t know, maybe Sunday was just different. I know it was weird! It almost felt like we were friends. I know it was weird, I know—but that doesn’t mean we’re sleeping together or that we did. But even if we had, frankly, it’s none of your fucking business.” You crossed your arms over your chest.

“Yes, it is.” Sarah argued. “You’re both my friends.”

“And? If anything were to ever happen between Harry and I, which it’s not, but if it were to, it would be between me and him.”

“You’re right.” Charlotte cut in, holding her arm out in between the two of you like some kind of referee. “(Y/N)’s right, Sarah. If something had happened—or was happening—it would be none of our business. I mean, I’d be kind of pissed that she didn’t tell us, but her sex life is her business.”

Sarah let the bottle down onto the counter with a loud thud. “I’d be pretty pissed too.”

Before you could say anything, the sound of Sarah’s lock clicking made your heads turn towards the door. You heard Mitch’s voice as he pushed it open and you sighed in annoyance when you saw Harry walk in behind him.

Mitch held his hands up when he saw all of you staring at him. “I forgot my wallet. Just need to grab it.” He walked towards the hallway where the bedroom was and Sarah followed him and you had no doubt that Sarah was going to complain about you.

Charlotte announced that she was going to pee before moving down the hallway as well, leaving just you and Harry standing there.

He walked over to where you stood at the island and leaned on it, so close to you that his hip brushed yours. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Just a bad day.”

He smirked, “We heard your voices in the hallway. I don’t know what you were saying, but you were loud.”

“Eavesdropper.” You mumbled as you leaned forward and snatched the bottle of wine from the other side of the counter. You felt his eyes on you as you poured yourself a glass. “Can I fucking help you?”

“You said you had a bad day, so I’m gonna let that one slide.”

You rolled your eyes, “What do you want?”

“Are you alright?”

You turned to him and gave him a sickly sweet smile. “I would be if you would just leave me the fuck alone.”

He stood back up, his eyes still on you. “I’ll let that one slide too.” He lifted his left hand and brought it around you, where it landed on the side of your neck. He pulled you in and placed a kiss to your temple. Harry pulled away just as you heard one of the doors open and feet padding down the hallway.

“So where are you guys going?” Charlotte asked as she reentered the kitchen.

Harry told her about this Indian place they were going to as what he had just done replayed in your head over and over.

What the fuck was that? you thought as your eyes zeroed in on your glass. It had been two days since you had fucked and you hadn’t spoken at all—and you didn’t exactly leave off on good terms. Sure, he made sure you were safe and you sent him a smiley face (something you had decided was a drunken mistake), but he had told you to go home. He demanded it. The sex also came after a fight, which you hadn’t forgotten in the slightest. He still owed you an apology. You weren’t going to simply forget that.

As they talked, you pulled yourself off the counter and started walking to the living room with your wine clutched in your hand. You blocked out the traveling sound of their voices as you sat on the couch with a sigh and took a sip from your glass.

You wanted to be a lot angrier than you were. He was acting weird, as though you were friends or more and it didn’t exactly sit right with you, but it didn’t make you as angry as it should’ve. The worst part was, the small kiss had made you feel slightly better. You knew you were definitely annoyed with him and frustrated by him; his apology turned into a rant filled with accusations and then he told you to leave after sex—despite the fact that you didn’t exactly plan on staying anyway, it still hurt and it was still rude. But when he was nice to you, you couldn’t figure out how to be angry.

Sure, it was frustrating and confusing when he was nice, because you had never known him to be that way with you, but you couldn’t be angry with him for treating you like a person. Even though, technically, on Sunday, he was a jerk to you in a lot of ways, he was sweet to you in more and so when you got home that night and you thought about him and what had happened and all that he had said, you couldn’t will back the kind of anger you had before he kissed you. Or the kind of anger you were holding onto at the market.

Mitch and Sarah’s voices echoed as they moved down the hallway.

“Took you two a long time to get that wallet.” Harry commented when they reentered the kitchen.

You heard a small “Ow” come from Harry, which meant that Mitch probably punched him for what he was implying.

“Alright, bye, guys!” Mitch called as he started moving towards the door. Charlotte said goodbye and you lifted your right hand in the air from where you were sitting in a half-assed goodbye.

“Bye, you two.” Harry said to your friends at the counter. You heard his footsteps get closer to you but you didn’t bother to turn around. “And cheer up, (Y/N). You’re ruining their night.” As he walked past, he landed a quick flick to the back of your head that made you wince.

“Fucking dick.” You grumbled as the door closed behind them. He really couldn’t have just left it at the kiss? No, of course not; he had to go and cancel it out by being a jerk.

You heard Sarah sigh loudly from her place in the kitchen. “(Y/N), care to join us?”

You rose from your spot on the couch and turned around to face them. “That depends. Am I going to be attacked again? Or will I be allowed to eat some pizza in peace?”

Charlotte opened the box. “In peace, I swear. Sarah shouldn’t have said anything in the first place.” Sarah’s head snapped over to Charlotte, who mouthed an apology for throwing her under the bus. “I’m right, though. You know I am. She had a shitty day and you basically accused her of lying, which she wouldn’t do. Not that it’s any of our business.” She said the last part under her breath.

“Uh, I’m still here.” You said as you walked around the couch and back to where they were standing.

Sarah sighed again, but this time in defeat, and crossed her arms over her chest. “Look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have attacked you like that. It’s just…it seems like there’s something going on and I feel like I’m going crazy because you tell me that there isn’t, but…I don’t know. It just looks like you two are…I don’t know. And Mitch thinks so too.”

“You discussed this with Mitch?” You placed your near empty glass on the counter and Charlotte moved to refill it.

“Well, yeah. I wanted to make sure I wasn’t imagining it.”

“Sarah, it’s none of your business.” You were quick to correct yourself, “[If] there was something going on, it would be none of your business and anyway, it would be something you discuss with me, not something you conspire with your boyfriend about.”

She shrugged. “I tell him everything, (Y/N).”

“And you should—about your life. I love Mitch, I really do, and I do consider him a friend, but I don’t like that you discussed theories about me with him.”

“I’m just saying that I’m not the only one who thought that something was up.”

“Well then it’s not just you who’s an idiot.”

“Can we please just stop fighting?” Charlotte drew your and Sarah’s attention. “I put the pizza in the oven. When it comes out, this conversation is over and we’re all gonna be friends again, okay?”

“We’re not fighting.” You said. “We’re having an adult conversation, which is something Sarah should’ve tried to have with me in the first place instead of luring me here to accuse me of something that has nothing to do with her.”

“You know what,” Sarah leaned her right hand on the counter and put her left on her hip. “I’m gonna let you have that one because you’re mostly right and I don’t really want to apologize.”

You rolled your eyes at her and Charlotte sent her a death glare.

“But I will apologize, because that’s what good friends do.” Sarah smiled at Charlotte, who nodded in approval. She then turned her attention to you. “I’m sorry, really. You’re right. I should’ve talked to you about this like a grown up and not have raised my voice. And I understand why you aren’t exactly okay with me talking to Mitch about you. And you’re right, even if there was something going on, it’s none of my business.”

“Thank you. I accept your apology.” You held out your hand for her to shake and tried to keep your serious expression, but it broke when her hand landed in yours, smiles spreading on both of your faces.

“I’m sorry too.” Charlotte said from where she stood at the oven. “I know I’m really only guilty by association, but still.”

“It’s fine.” You smiled at her. “Now, pull out that pizza. I’m fucking hungry.” You swiped Charlotte’s glass off the counter and brought it over to her as she opened the oven.

October 29, 2020

You pulled your coat tighter around you as you stepped off the train at the stop for Aldgate East. Your coat was oversized and landed a little past mid-thigh; it was cream colored, with a beige, plaid pattern covering it. You had paired it with a pair of straight leg, cream colored jeans, your oatmeal colored JOSEPH band tee, and your square toed, burgundy boots with a relatively low heel since you would be spending the whole day walking around.

You had a notebook, pen and a small digital camera tucked into your brown leather bag along with your other usual essentials and were ready to really start your vintage clothing article.

As you walked down Whitechapel High St, you double checked the list of places you knew you wanted to go which you had jotted down in your notes app, making sure that you hadn’t forgotten any. You kept your eyes on your phone as you made a left onto Osborn St, slipping between the groups of friends that were walking in the opposite direction. As the street morphed into Brick Ln, you passed countless Indian restaurants and side streets that were lined with houses before coffee shops began to pop up as well as small vintage shops and “beigel” places.

You had made sure to come during the week so the insane crowds could be avoided and you’d have the room to talk to the owners of the shops or the people running their stalls in the underground market. On Sundays, the streets were packed with people and lined with tents where food was being served and secondhand items were being sold. As much as you would’ve loved to include those stalls in your article, Sundays were too chaotic to really get anything good, the stall workers and owners too preoccupied with making sales to the customers crowding their small spaces.

You decided to start at Serotonin Vintage, which was a shop all the way at the other end of Brick Lane, on the corner of Bacon St. It made sense for you to work from the back end up, since it meant that the shops you ended on were closest to the tube station, saving you a long walk in the cold—and there was this one shop that tended to close whenever the owner wanted, especially on slower days and you wanted to get there as early as possible.

Serotonin’s price point was pretty high for a vintage shop, but it was because they specialized in designer pieces. They had everything from Burberry, to Fendi, to Moschino, to Chanel. You were a frequent buyer from them and had the owner, Jessie, to thank for your Burberry heels and a pair of bright red Gucci pants.

You spent just under an hour with her, asking questions about the shop and its inventory and taking a few pictures of some of her favorite pieces and both the shops interior and exterior.

Next on your list was meant to be Search and Destroy, the shop with the fickle owner, but when you tried to pull the door open, you found it was locked. You sighed in frustration and pulled out your phone and shot him a quick text. A few days ago you were shopping in the area and you popped in to tell him about the article. He swore to you that he would be there and open until at least mid-afternoon that day and even gave you his number so you could contact him in case plans changed. You had bought several things from him in the past and he was a great guy, just…unpredictable.

After sending him a text asking if he was at the shop and telling him you had tried to stop buy, you walked further up the street, moving onto your next shop, which was Brick Lane Vintage, only a few doors down.

This place was much less fancy than Serotonin—and there was nothing wrong with that. They had brand names and designer pieces, as well as some stuff you had never heard of for less than ten pounds. The ground floor was filled with track jackets, windbreakers, Levi jeans, and t-shirts. The lower level was where they kept the pricier stuff: the designer pieces, suits and dresses. You roamed around for awhile as you talked to one of the guys who worked there. While he was showing you some of his favorite stuff, he pulled out a vintage men’s Dolce and Gabbana suit jacket. It was black, with thin, faint purple and light green pin stripes running throughout it that were barely visible. The inside was what struck you. The lining was iridescent and purple with peacock feathers stitched throughout in a shimmering, gold thread, accented by a darker purple stitch. It was gorgeous—and it was only eighty pounds.

While the worker rang you up, you took pictures of the shop and of him behind the counter.

By time you were done there, you had received a text from the owner of Search and Destroy, telling you to come back to the shop. You were there in a few seconds and gave the door a harsh knock.

“Hey, (Y/N).” Tommie greeted as he let you into the shop. “Sorry about that, I had someone come in and I figured it would be better to lock the door to give them some privacy.”

“Oh, did they buy anything?” You asked as you stepped inside. It wasn’t unusual for him to do that. He had a lot of high profile people pop into the shop and because it was never insanely busy, he would “close” so they could shop in peace.

“Not yet. He’s still here.” He pointed towards the short hallway where the fitting room was located before locking the door again and following you further inside.

The shop was one of your favorites. Tommie went out of his way to find one of a kind pieces from all over the world. The shop sold mostly t-shirts and button up tops, but they had a few jackets and dresses as well. The best thing about them was that everything was old. So much of their merchandise was from the sixties, seventies, and eighties—which is why it was all extremely expensive.

“Have you worn that Blondie t-shirt yet?” He asked as he sat down on the black leather couch tucked under a rod of t-shirts.

You nodded. “I did. I think it’s one of my new favorites. Might be in the market for another.” You looked at him sideways as you started looking through the band tees hanging up to the left of where he was sitting.

“Wait, I’ve got a few that you’ll love. Two of them are in the back, though. Just came in. Give me a second and then we can start this article thing or whatever.” He said as he got up and walked down the short hallway before disappearing around its right corner.

You heard the faint sound of footsteps before his voice. “This is fucking sick.”

Harry looked up and stopped walking when he saw you standing there, hands resting on a stack of Harley Davidson t-shirts folded on a table at the front of the shop.

“Hi.” You said when he did nothing but stare.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, his fingers still pinching the bottom of the sweatshirt he was wearing. It was an orange crew neck, which fit him just right that had an outline of Schroeder from Peanuts in black on the front, who was wearing a t-shirt with Beethoven’s face on it.

You held up the notebook that you had tucked under your arm. “Article.”

He nodded in understanding and then pointed to the door behind you. “I thought he…”

“He did.” You smiled and tilted your head to the side. “But I’m the exception.”

“Of course you are.” He rolled his eyes and turned around to look at himself in the large standing mirror against the wall.

“To those of us with real understanding…music is the only pure art form.” You read the quote on the back of the crewneck. “Interesting.”

“It’s from ’65.” Harry said.

“You should buy it. The color’s cool and who doesn’t love the Peanuts?”

“I can’t tell if you’re mocking me or not.” He looked at you through the mirror.

“Who’s to say?” You shrugged.

“You’re annoying.” He muttered before marching back into the fitting room.

“Alright, I’ve got a t-shirt, a bowling shirt and a varsity sweater for you.” Tommie said as he reentered the space. You met him at the couch, where he placed the selections down. “I only have the one fitting room, but you can try them on over your t-shirt if you want.” He offered and you nodded before taking off your bag and jacket.

You pulled the Stevie Nicks t-shirt over your head and immediately fell in love. It was black and a little oversized, the legend’s name in white, placed above an angled red heart with wings, its feathers both red and white. A yellow and blue flame peeked around the right of the heart and wrapped around it. You knew you would be taking it, no matter how much.

Harry emerged from the fitting room again, this time wearing a blue floral button down from the seventies, halfway unbuttoned as always. He stopped in front of you and Tommie. “You need to get that.”

“I know.” You didn’t even look at him, your eyes still glued to the t-shirt.

Harry’s eyes landed on the bright red varsity knit on the couch. “Holy shit.” He bent down to pick it up, but before he could, you had snatched it off the pile.

“Uh, not so fast, buddy. Tommie picked these for me.”

Tommie looked between the two of you. “Know each other?”

You said “yes” at the same time Harry said “unfortunately”.

Harry turned his attention back to you. “C’mon, that thing looks way too big for you.”

“So? I like my stuff oversized. It makes it more cozy.” You said as you started to undo the buttons so you could try it on. You moved to stand in front of the mirror and pulled the cardigan over the Stevie tee.

The shoulder seam hung several inches lower than where it was supposed to sit and your hands were hidden inside the long sleeves.

“See, it’s too big.” Harry came up to stand behind you.

“No, it’s not.” You argued. “Look, if I roll the sleeves up, it fits perfectly.”

“You’re not supposed to roll the sleeves up.”

You turned around and put your hands on your hips. “Says who? You just want me not to get it, so that you can.”

He shrugged. “Maybe.”

Tommie spoke up from where he was standing at the couch. “I might have another one that’s a little similar. Let me go and check.” You knew he definitely didn’t and that he just wanted to get out of the way while you two argued over a sweater.

“At least let me try it on.”

You sighed. “Fine.” Before you could move, he had slipped his hands under the sweater at your shoulders and was pushing it down your arms. You turned around and let him pull it off your hands.

He rolled the sleeves back down before putting it on and stepping in front of you so that he could see his reflection.

“See, it looks so much better on me.” He said as if it was obvious.

You crossed your arms over your chest and rolled your eyes. “In your dreams.”

“You? You were, actually. Almost as good as the real thing.” He looked at you over his shoulder and smirked. When your mouth opened in disbelief, he simply sent you a wink before turning back around.

Before you could reprimand him, Tommie waltzed back in empty handed. “I thought I had a blue one like it, but we must’ve sold it.”

“It’s fine.” Harry said. “We’ve agreed that it should be mine.”

You shoved him in the back, causing him to stumble forward a bit. “Uh, no we have not.”

“I’ll take it.” You said to Tommie.

“C’mon, (Y/N). You can’t afford this and the Stevie shirt.”

“Excuse me?” You could sense Tommie’s discomfort but you didn’t care. “Yes, I can.”

“Sure.” You didn’t miss the sarcasm. He looked over to Tommie. “I’ll take this,” he pointed to the sweater, “this button down and the Peanuts crewneck, I think.”

“Uh, no. That sweater is mine.”

“It won’t be in about five minutes.” He sent you a smile before walking back towards the dressing room.

“Harry, that’s not fucking fair. Tommie pulled it for me, not for you. Find something else.”

“I’m not leaving without the sweater, (Y/N).”

“Well, neither am I.”

“Why don’t we just share it then?” He turned around and threw his hands up in exasperation.

“Share it? No.” You shook your head.

“Well, then it’s mine.”

“No!” You tugged on his sleeve so he couldn’t walk away. “Stop being a dick. The sweater isn’t yours to buy.”

“I’m not being a dick. I’m offering to share it with you.”

“How would that even work?”

“When you want to wear it, you have it, and then when I want to wear it, you give it to me. We share.”

“But that’s not fair.”

“How?” You could tell that he was beyond annoyed with you, even though he had no right to be.

“Because you go on tour in a few months. So what, I pay for my half of the sweater and then it disappears for half a year? More? Not fair.”

“Fine. So the sweater is mine until tour and then when I leave, it’s yours. Fair?”

You thought it over for a second before shrugging. “I guess.”

“Cool. I’ll pay for it and then you can just Venmo me the money or something.”

Your hand landed on his arm again. “Uhm, no. I don’t trust your dumb ass. We’re paying in cash.”

He rolled his eyes. “Whatever.” You finally let his arm go so he could change back into his clothes.

You turned around and walked back to the couch where Tommie was sitting. As you took off the Stevie tee and put your jacket back on, he let out a chuckle. “You’re both bloody mental.”

As Harry changed back into his sweatshirt and pulled on his jacket, he was already planning on “accidentally” packing the sweater for tour in January. He only offered to share the sweater as a way to shut you up. He would pack the sweater and then have his assistant pay you back for your half and maybe block your number so he didn’t have to hear you complain about it—he had it all figured out.

He walked back out and over to the register where you were already waiting for him. He dropped the sweater on the counter between the two of you and Tommie rang you both up in silence. You were preoccupied by whatever you had written down in your notebook and Harry had received a long text from Jeff about a music video shoot that was coming up. The only time you gave Harry your attention was when you tapped him on the arm, your half of the money clasped between your fingers. He put all the notes in order before handing them over to Tommie, but only after commenting about how yours were all crumpled.

After you both paid for the sweater, Tommie rang Harry up and you stood off to the side and waited for your turn.

Harry’s eyes kept roaming back to you; your bottom lip was pulled between your teeth and your brow was furrowed. You kept flipping back and forth between two of the pages, every now and then either crossing something out or adding a note in the small margin.

He had been thinking about you a lot lately, and the comment he had made about dreaming of you—it wasn’t a lie. Your body always seemed to be on his mind lately. He wanted to feel your skin again. Harry wanted to kiss your neck, slip his hands between your thighs, feel your body under him, hear your soft whimpers in his ear—he wanted to hear you call him “baby” again. It was an embarrassing admission, but it was what he thought about the most. It slipped from your lips so easily, so naturally and it was constantly echoing in his mind. He knew that you only said it because the two of you were fucking; it was the same for him. He called you “baby” while he was kissing you, touching you, fucking you, but he would never say it outside of that bubble.

You brought your hand up to your mouth in order to hide your yawn and the words were out before he could stop them.

“Wanna grab some coffee?”

“What?” Your eyes shot to him and the furrow in your brow deepened.

Harry grabbed the small stack of his purchases off the counter and dropped them into his tote bag before moving over so you could pay for your t-shirt. “Wanna get some coffee?”

“Now?”

Harry nodded, the look on his face showing he thought that was obvious.

“You have nothing else to do?” You asked as you handed your card to Tommie who was watching the two of you with an amused expression.

Harry checked the time on his phone. It was only a quarter to one and he didn’t have his fitting for some tour outfits until five at his house. “Not for another few hours.”

He saw you thinking it over in your head. You tapped your card on the counter a few times before slipping it back into your wallet and then glanced at your notebook. Harry knew that you probably had more work to do for your article, but he wasn’t exactly ready to say goodbye to you yet. He didn’t know when he would see you again. Even though he had your phone number and you had his, the two of you didn’t text. It didn’t feel right to and there was really zero reason for him to ever reach out to you.

He didn’t even like you, so he wasn’t sure where this sudden urge to hangout with you for a bit longer came from. Just a few minutes ago, you had frustrated and annoyed the fuck out of him over a stupid sweater. Why did he care about not seeing you? He should’ve been more than ready to say goodbye. Also, the more time he spent with you, the higher the chance that you would bring up the mistake he made on Tuesday.

He had kissed your head almost out of reflex—and he didn’t understand why. It was something he did with the girls he dated, not with girls who pissed him off and belittled him. Once again, he reminded himself that he didn’t like you and you didn’t like him. The sex didn’t change any of that—obviously, since the two of you had gone straight back to fighting afterwards. Every time you saw one another you fought. As Sunday proved, you two could be nice to one another for hours, but at some point, the hatred would bubble up and the yelling would start.

Before he could tell you to forget it, you said, “Yeah, sure. I just have a few more questions to ask Tommie, if that’s okay?”

Harry hid his slight surprise well. He obviously wanted you to say yes, but part of him was sure that you would turn him down. Granted, you were never one to say no to something free. The only time you hung out with him willingly, or allowed him to tag along when you went out with Mitch and Sarah was if he promised to pay.

“Yeah, uh, take your time. I’ll sit over here.” Harry pointed to the black couch as he walked over. He sat down and started scrolling through his phone, even though all of his attention was on you and Tommie. He listened to the questions you asked and couldn’t help but be kind of surprised that they were a little deeper than the basics about when the shop opened and the kind of stuff they sold. He heard you ask him what made the search for pieces so important to him; what the cultivation process was like for him; in Tommie’s mind, what made Search and Destroy different from the rest?

A few minutes later, he heard you thank Tommie and then tried desperately hard to look like he was paying you little to no attention.

“Ready?” You tapped his Van-clad foot with the tip of your boot.

“Huh?” He looked up. “Oh, yeah.” Harry pushed himself up from the couch and walked over to where Tommie was straightening out some t-shirts on a table. He held out his hand for him to shake. “Thanks so much, man. I’ll definitely be back.”

“Glad to hear it. If you ever need anything, or need me to search for something, just give me a call.” He handed Harry his business card after shaking his hand. He then turned to you. “Thank you for the feature, (Y/N). It means a lot.”

You waved him off. “Of course, Tommie. You’re one of the best. I couldn’t leave you out.” You gave him a hug before both you and Harry thanked him and started towards the door.

Once you were both out on the sidewalk, you turned to Harry. “There’s this really good coffee shop around the corner, if you want to go there.”

“I don’t know you well enough to trust your coffee choices.”

He saw the confused expression on your face. “You drink it black. What the fuck do you care where we go?”

He smirked, “You listen to my record regularly and you know my coffee order? The girls were right, you really are a fan.”

You rolled your eyes. “If you’re going to be a dick, you can take your coffee offer and shove it up your ass.”

He chuckled and bumped his arm against your shoulder. “I’m kidding, relax.”

“There is absolutely nothing funny about the idea of me being a fan of you.”

“Okay. Ouch.” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his green coat and tried to ignore the slight sting he felt at your words.

You shrugged. “You started it.” You stopped walking and grabbed his arm. “Okay, so where are we going? Because I don’t exactly have the time to wander around aimlessly—no offense.”

“There should be a place a little further up, down one of the side streets on the left.”

“Do they have muffins?”

“Probably.” Harry shrugged.

“Okay, lead the way.” You let go of his arm and waved your hand out in front of the both of you, instructing him to start walking.

“You’re so fucking weird.” Harry muttered as he walked past you.

“And you’re a fucking dick.” You said in a singsong voice, loud enough that he could hear you from his position ahead.

You both walked in a silence that was oddly comfortable. Every few seconds, you pulled your phone out and sent a text or two to someone who’s name was Abby. From what Harry could read, he assumed it was someone from work. He never pulled his hands from the warmth of his pockets and looked down every time someone seemed to be staring at him, hoping the hood and sunglasses were enough to convince them that it wasn’t really him.

He drifted closer to you as you walked, letting his arm brush lightly against yours, his stomach tight at the idea of you stepping away. He felt himself relax when you didn’t and allowed your arms to brush with every few steps, but tried to shove down the disappointment that was brewing since your attention stayed with your phone.

“Everything alright?” He asked.

You looked at him, your brow furrowed in what seemed to be stress. You scratched your forehead as you shook your head slightly. “Yeah, sorry. My boss is just—she’s moving deadlines around and they want my article done by Sunday, which gives me less than a week to get it written and get all the photos sorted and—“ You glanced up at Harry before shaking your head again, “Sorry, you don’t care.” You dropped your phone back in your pocket.

“I never said that.”

“C’mon, Harry. We both know you don’t give a shit. You never have.” You shrugged as though it was obvious.

“That’s not true.”

“Whatever, Harry. Just forget it.”

“Whatever.”

He knew you were right, but he didn’t particularly want to admit it. He never cared about your job or if you were ever under any kind of stress—and he still didn’t, not really, but he was trying to be nice. It was one thing to be an asshole, but another thing to willingly admit that he was an asshole.

“Make a left up here.” He pointed at the corner of Buxton St.

The two of you rounded the corner, and he led you to the third storefront.

“Oh, my god, I love this place.” You said once the two of you reached the small cafe, whose front was painted a bright teal with its name painted in big gold letters at the top. Kahaila was one of Harry’s favorite spots, which he didn’t get the chance to go to often, unfortunately. It was super small and pretty hidden since it was halfway down one of the side streets tourists didn’t care to explore. Whenever he went in, there was only ever a handful of people in there and he was never bothered. He figured it was a safe bet since it was the middle of the afternoon on a Thursday.

Harry pulled the door open and waited for you to take the hint and walk in, following closely behind you.

The counter was right next to the door when you walked in; the base of it was made of white painted wood and the top was stained dark. Mounds of different kinds of pastries and sandwiches covered the counter space on their respective trays and there was small space to the left, at the end of the counter, where the iPad was that served as the register.

After greeting the baristas behind the pastries, Harry joined you in scanning over both the handwritten coffee menu on the wall and then over the donuts, cinnamon rolls, croissants, paninis, and muffins that sat right in front of the two of you—even though he already knew exactly what he was ordering.

“Hi,” You looked up and smiled at the barista. “Can I please have a small cappuccino and two peanut butter cookies?”

“Yeah, of course.” The blond guy said before turning his attention to Harry. Harry ordered his usual coffee, but no sweet treat which earned him a weird look from you. The barista lifted his finger and moved it between you and Harry. “Together or separate?”

Harry said, “together” at the same time you said, “separate”. You both turned to face one another and his annoyed expression mirrored your own.

“I’m paying.” Harry started pulling his wallet from his front pocket.

“Yeah, for yourself.” He watched you dig your hand into your bag. The barista excused himself to make your drinks and left the two of you alone to argue.

“(Y/N), c’mon, let me pay for you.”

“No.”

He didn’t like your stern tone. “Why not? I asked you to coffee, so I should pay.”

You let out a condescending laugh, “Harry, this isn’t a date.”

“Trust me, I’m aware, but this was my idea.”

“Absolutely not. I refuse owe you anything.” You said the last part under your breath, but he still managed to catch it.

His brow furrowed. “Owe me? It’s a coffee.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Harry’s eyes were still glued to you as you looked down and shook his hand off before pulling a ten and a five pound note out of your wallet.

Harry held his hands up in surrender, his wallet still clutched in his right hand. “Fine, pay for your own fucking coffee.”

“I was planning on it.” You finished your sentence right as the barista returned with your drinks and warmed up cookies.

“So..” He trailed off, his eyes moving between the two of you.

“Separate, please.” You handed over your cash as Harry pinched the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb.

Harry tapped his Amex on the small white square on the counter to pay for his coffee before picking it up and meeting you at the end of the counter where you were waiting for him. “Grab a seat in the back?” He pointed aimlessly at the space behind you and you nodded.

He followed you as you maneuvered through several empty tables crowded in the small space. Harry hoped the two of you would be able to move past the small argument you had or else the next twenty or so minutes would be beyond uncomfortable. He took a deep breath and rolled his shoulders back, attempting to shake off the urge to bug you about why you wouldn’t let him pay. You never attacked him unless provoked—usually—so he figured if he managed to calm down and get over it, there wouldn’t be a problem.

You lead him to a table in the back left corner, nestled underneath a shelf overflowing with green plants. The table was made of dark wood and old, slightly off kilter, and the chairs groaned when you sat on them.

Harry pulled his green coat off his arms and let it fall over the back of his chair while you pulled your bag off and hung it on your own. He watched you rub your chilly hands together before leaning forward and wrapping them around your cup, a small shiver moving through your body.

You sat in an uncomfortable silence for a few moments. Your coffees were too hot to sip as a distraction and neither of you knew what to say after snapping at one another. This was the first time the two of you had ever hung out, if that’s what you could even call it, and you were both quickly learning that a buffer was a necessity. Harry cleared his throat and leaned back in his seat, but no topic of conversation came to him and you didn’t even look at him; your eyes were trained on the cup between your hands.

Harry leaned forward and tapped one of the many gold rings on your fingers. “I like that.” You looked at the ring he was pointing to. It was one of the plainer ones; it was gold, which was really all you wore, and large. It was almost like a signet ring, except the flat part was in the shape of a heart. Before you could thank him, he pointed to one on your other hand. The ring was also gold and thick, with mermaids engraved around the entirety of it. “Are those fish?” He asked and leaned in a little closer, his eyes squinting just a bit.

You lifted your hand and held it out to him so he could get a better look. “Nope, mermaids.”

“I love that.” Before he could think, he was twisting the ring around your middle finger, inspecting each engraving. He felt his own stomach flip at the contact and prayed that you couldn’t see the blush that had risen to his cheeks. He dropped your hand quickly and allowed you to return it to your cup. “Is it custom?”

You scoffed, “Imagine.” When you saw his brow furrow, you explained. “Harry, I can’t afford that. It’s estate. I found it at this tiny jewelry shop back home before I moved here. I spent a lot more than I should’ve, but I couldn’t leave without it.”

“You’ve got really good taste.”

“I know.” You said brightly.

Harry rolled his eyes. “You’re supposed to tell me that I’ve got good taste too.”

“You really need to stop telling me what I’m supposed to do.” He raised his brows at you and you sighed sharply. “Fine.” You dropped your hand on the table, palm up. “Let me see ‘em.” When he didn’t move, you looked at him expectantly and wiggled your fingers on the table. “Come on. You want me to tell you that you have taste, then I’m gonna have to see it. I don’t bite.”

“That’s not what the warning label said.” He mumbled it but knew you heard it when he felt a sharp pain in his shin. Not wanting to earn another kick, he dropped his right hand into your palm.

You scooted up a little on your chair, balancing on the edge, and leaned forward so you could inspect them. You twisted the gemstone ring around his pinky, your fingers slotting between his, so that the gem was facing forward before moving to his ring finger where the gold one sat with its three flat sides. Lastly, you looked at the silver one on his middle finger and twisted it so it was the right way, letting your fingers linger near his knuckles.  “Peace,” you muttered, “interesting.” You dropped his hand on the table and motioned for his next one.

Harry let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding in before placing his large left hand in your small ones. Your hands were soft and a little warm from being wrapped around your drink. He tried his best to ignore the warmth blossoming in his chest at your touch. He watched your face as you examined his fingers, yours brushing against his over and over again. You ran your thumb over the red stone on his forefinger and then over his knuckle, before moving to twist his dancing bear ring around. He saw the small smile on your face and swallowed hard. You twisted his initial rings so that they were the right way and he wondered if you were feeling the same way he did. You looked so unbothered, so completely oblivious to everything he was feeling, while he was sure his cheeks were flushed.

You dropped his hand on the table and he quickly pulled it back and dropped them both in his lap. “Well?” He asked as you popped the top off of your cup.

You shrugged. “You’ve got taste.” When you saw the hint of a smirk on his face, you said, “But your right hand could use some work. It’s a little plain.”

“No, s’not.”

“In comparison to your left hand it is. The initials are my favorite, though. Florence Welch has one too, right?” Your eyes were on him as you brought your cup to your lips and took a tentative sip.

“Yeah, she does. Are you a fan?”

You nodded quickly. “Yeah, for a long time. I saw her three times last year.”

Harry leaned back in his chair. “Wow.” His brows popped up as he said it.

“What?”

He shrugged and forced an exaggerated frown. “Nothing, just thought I was your one and only, s’all.”

You rolled your eyes, “Someone’s full of himself.”

“I’m not! I’m just saying, the way you seem to listen to my record…” He trailed off and sent you him a smirk.

“Sarah and Charlotte exaggerated. I don’t even listen to it that often.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “C’mon, love.” He tensed up as soon as he heard it leave his mouth. He saw your brows flinch.

“What was that?” You bit your lip in order to hide your smirk.

“What?” He feigned confusion. He had already wiped the mistake from his mind.

“Nothing.” He watched as you sunk further in your chair, your eyes slightly wide.

You didn’t respond and just let a familiar silence wash over the two of you. It was a little tense, filled with thoughts that the two of you would never express. You couldn’t believe he had let that slip and wanted more than anything to tease him for it—but something stopped you. Part of you was telling you it would ruin it all, whatever this moment was that the two of you were having. Harry was cursing himself in his mind. He couldn’t believe he had been such a careless idiot. He didn’t even know why he said it. He had never thought of you in that way, in an affectionate way.

You cleared your throat. “So, uh, speaking of Charlotte and Sarah…”

“Yeah?” He took a sip of his coffee.

“The other night at Sarah’s—“

“When you were in a pissy mood.” He added the unnecessary detail, forcing you to bite your tongue.

“Yeah. Well, something’s wrong.” His brow furrowed as he took another sip and you started to explain. “She told me that she thought something was off—between us. She thinks that something happened, like, sexually.”

“Well, it did.”

You sighed in exasperation. “I know that, Harry, but she’s not supposed to know that. She shouldn’t.”

“Did you tell her that something happened?”

“No, but she has all these theories. Sarah noticed the way you were with me Sunday night.”

“And what way was that.” You saw in his eyes that he knew exactly what you were referring to.

“Harry, come on. I’m serious.”

“I know, I—“

“No, you don’t.” You interrupted. You whispered harshly, “She basically attacked and accused me, Harry. She’s sure something is going on and I know she’s not just going to let it go.”

“I swear I didn’t tell her anything, (Y/N).”

“Well, did you tell Mitch?”

He looked at you as though you were crazy. “Are you joking? Of course not. The man looks quiet but he tells Sarah everything. I would never tell him what we did—what we’ve been doing.”

You felt relief overtake you and you believed him. “Okay, good, because—“

“Sorry to bother, but could I get a picture. Please?” Before you could finish your sentence, a young girl, who looked to be in her late teens, appeared at the side of your table.

“Uh, yeah, sure.” Harry said. He held his arm out and waited for the girl to move in closer to him.

“You mind?” She asked you as she held out her phone.

You shook your head, slightly taken aback by the sudden intrusion. “Uh, no, not at all.” You took the phone from her outstretched hand and turned it side ways, setting up the shot as she moved closer to Harry. She tucked herself into his side and he put on a bright smile. “Ready?” You asked and the girl nodded. Just as you clicked the shutter button, Harry threw his hand up in a cheesy peace sign. You took one more before handing the phone out to the girl.

She took it and cradled it to her chest, her eyes moving between the two of you. “Is this, like…an interview or something?” You saw the look in her eyes. You knew there was only one right answer to her question.

Your eyes flicked to Harry, who was starting to open his mouth in response. You were sure he would’ve said the wrong thing. “Uh, yeah.” You’re tone was bright. “It is, actually.”

“Oh…” You saw the confusion in her eyes as they searched the table in front of you, which was absent of a notebook and pen.

You held up your phone. “I’m recording everything. It’s so much easier to just let it flow and transcribe it later.” You felt his eyes on you.

“Oh,” You watched her expression transform into one of joy. “Who do you work for?”

“British Vogue.” Harry supplied.

“Oh, my god.” She said. “That’s so exciting.”

“Yeah, it is.” He smiled at her as you looked down. You were panicking slightly. You knew how fandoms worked. If this girl was any more than a casual fan, there would be theories and hype about this pretend interview all over social media and you would be in some deep shit.

You barely listened as her and Harry exchanged pleasantries and goodbyes. From your peripheral vision, you saw him pick up his cup and patiently waited until you heard the bell at the top of the door chime with the fan’s departure before you returned your attention to him.

“So there’s an interview now, yeah?” He was being cocky.

“Better than her thinking we’re on a date.” You faked a gag.

“Hey! What makes you think that would be the first thing she thought?” You gave him a look and he nodded. “Yeah, yeah, alright. It probably would’ve been the first guess.”

“It would’ve. You’re welcome for saving us, by the way.”

“I didn’t thank you.”

You rolled your eyes and took another drink from your small cup. “Anyway,” You said as you pulled your cookies from their small brown bag, “I need you to not tell Mitch.” You broke off a piece of cookie and ate it.

“Oh, trust me, I’m not telling anybody.” Harry reached over and picked up your cookie. You watched in annoyance as he took a big bite.

“Prick.” You muttered. He sent you a huge smile, before taking another bite of your cookie.

October 30, 2020

There had been whisperings all morning at work. The anxiety was telling you that it was about you, but you had been fighting those thoughts all morning. You had convinced yourself that it was over some celebrity gossip that you had missed out on. It didn’t explain the curious eyes flicking in your direction or the whispering that seemed to amplify between two of your coworkers who passed your desk, but it being about you didn’t make any sense—until Abby called you into her office.

It wouldn’t have alarmed you if it hadn’t been for her tone. It was the same tone that her voice held during fashion week: one of urgency, panic, and importance. You hurried into her office and closed the glass door behind you, slightly infuriated by its illusion of privacy.

“You wanted to see me?” You clasped your hands in front of you and tried not to fidget in your purple pumps. It couldn’t have been about the Brick Lane piece. You had sent her an update that morning telling her you were ahead of schedule.

“What’s this?” She turned her laptop around on her desk and you tried to control your expression.

“Uh, it’s a picture of me…with a friend.” It was you and Harry at the coffee shop. It had to have been taken by the fan—an assumption made based off the caption of the photo: “Saw Harry meeting with a writer from British Vogue today! We’re getting fed, ladies!”

“The caption, (Y/N).”

You cleared your throat. “Uh, yeah, I see it.”

“The girl says you told her that you were interviewing him?”

You sighed and fought the tears burning your eyes. You hated getting in trouble. “I’m sorry, really. I didn’t know she took the picture, or that she would post anything. I just…I didn’t want her to think that him and I were…together—which we aren’t, but I was afraid of it becoming a rumor.”

“You’re not with him.”

You closed your eyes and tried to relax. “No, not at all. We have mutual friends and I ran into him while working on my vintage clothes piece and we got coffee.”

“Do you have mutual friends with him, or are you friends with him?”

Your brow furrowed. “What do you mean? Aren’t they the same thing?”

“No. How often do you see him?”

“I don’t know, maybe a once or twice a week? It depends.”

“So enough where he would feel comfortable with you doing an interview?” She was looking at you expectantly.

“I don’t know. Maybe?”

“I don’t need a ‘maybe’, (Y/N). I need a ‘yes’.”

“Uh—“

“We’ve been trying to get him for months, but he keeps saying no. We have no idea why.”

“Really? That doesn’t—“

“You need to get him to do an interview.” Abby leaned forward and placed her hands on her desk. Her eyes were focused on your face and it didn’t really sound like she was giving you a choice.

“I can try.” You offered.

She laughed, but you knew she didn’t think anything was funny. “‘Try’? Honey, you’ve dug us a hole. The entire internet is now anticipating this interview and I really don’t want to disappoint. We can’t. Also, the higher ups think I’ve done some great thing by getting him; they’re even talking about offering him the cover. You can’t fuck me over now. You’ll get the interview. You have to. It’s your job.”

“Like, it’s my job to get the interview, or it’s my job on the line?”

You could tell by the look on her face that that wasn’t the right question to ask. “Both.”

You nodded quickly. “Yeah, right. Okay.”

“I want it confirmed by Monday.”

You nodded again. “I’ll take care of it. I promise.”

“You don’t really have a choice.” She looked down at her desk. “You’re dismissed.” Abby sat down in her chair and turned her attention towards her desktop.

You glanced down at the picture of you and Harry one last time before spinning on your heel and exiting her office quickly.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, your mind chanted as you walked back to your cubicle. You should’ve known this would’ve happened. The minute the lie left your lips you should’ve anticipated it biting you in the ass. Harry was popular. Everyday, it seemed he was achieving something new, collecting accomplishments as if they were frivolous compliments.

You huffed and sat back down at your desk. Zach, the guy in the cubicle in front of you, peered over its glass top, “Harry Styles, huh?”

“If you don’t leave me the fuck alone, I’m telling everyone that you accidentally sexted your grandpa.”

Instead of responding, he sunk back down into his chair, his eyes wide with panic.

You shot Sarah a quick text.

Are you guys rehearsing at the studio tn?”

Yeah, you wanna come by?

Will jeff be there?

This is about the twitter thing isn’t it?

Sarah.

Yeah he’ll be there. Come by at like 7

You reacted to her message with a thumbs up before locking your phone and turning your attention back to the barely written piece on your screen.

Harry was having a rough time that night. He had failed to hit certain notes and after Mitch had decided to do some weird improv during Stockholm Syndrome, he had been in a shitty mood.

“Mate,” Harry turned to Mitch and ran both hands over his face, his guitar pick slotted between his fingers. “Can you just do it the way its supposed to be?”

“But I like it this way. It sounds better.” Mitch said, his fingers still poised on the guitar’s neck.

“Bloody fucking hell.” Harry sighed.

“Oh, (Y/N)’s here!” Sarah said, causing Harry’s head to whip towards the window in front of him. He saw you lean over to one of the guys in the booth before nodding and moving towards the door that led to the studio, where they were rehearsing.

He looked back at Sarah, his brow furrowed. “Did you invite her?”

“She kind of invited herself.”

Harry turned back towards the front of the room just as you opened the door. He couldn’t help but feel like maybe you had come to see him. Hanging out with you the day before wasn’t too bad—actually, he kind of had a good time and wouldn’t mind doing it again (a confession that came after a few hours of trying to convince himself that he didn’t actually enjoy spending time with you). Sure, the two of you had a small argument in the beginning, but everything was fine after that. Harry knew it wouldn’t have been if he hadn’t dropped it, if he poked at your annoyance and dragged it. It made him realize that maybe he was the instigator of most of your fights—most, not all.  

He thought about you for the rest of the day and during rehearsals that night, he even asked Sarah what you were up to, which was something he had never done before. He probably shouldn’t have, considering what you had told him during coffee. If she had theories, and was giving you a hard time about being nice to him, an innocent inquiry about you probably didn’t seem so innocent.

He wanted to ask Mitch about what Sarah had said to him. After the fan left, you told Harry that Sarah had been talking to Mitch about what she thinks is going on and you wanted to know if he had said anything to Harry, which he didn’t. Mitch never even mentioned you to him, unless it was to tell him that he was being an asshole to you. Harry was slightly frustrated that Mitch hadn’t brought it up to him. Maybe he didn’t bring it up because he didn’t agree with Sarah even though Sarah told you he did. It didn’t make sense to Harry. If Mitch and Sarah thought there was something going on, if they were so concerned about everyone’s friendships being at stake, then they should’ve been talking to Harry, not about him to each other.

“You can wipe that big frown off your face, Harry. I’m not staying.” You said as you walked further into the room.

“Good,” he mumbled before busying himself with his guitar. He heard your heels click against the floor as you walked towards Jeff. He heard the mumbled introductions and only lifted his head when he saw the two of you moving towards the door. Harry turned to Sarah. “What’s that about?”

She shrugged. “Not sure, honestly. She asked me earlier if Jeff would be here, but she didn’t tell me anything else.”

Harry wasn’t really a fan of not knowing what was going on. As far as he knew, there was absolutely no reason for you to be talking to Jeff. He ran his hand through his hair. “Uh, Stockholm Syndrome again, yeah?” The band made sounds of agreement and then Harry turned to Mitch. “If you fuck it up, I’ll kill you.”

You and Jeff talked through the entire song. Harry watched the two of you go back and forth through the glass. Neither of you seemed angry and neither of your gestures seemed aggressive in any way. Towards the end of the song, you both turned back towards the window, finally paying attention to him, little ghosts of smiles on both of your faces.

“That was good, I think.” Harry said as he turned around to face all of them. “Better, at least.”

“Harry.” He turned at the sound of his name. Jeff had half of his body stuck through the doorway. “Can you come here for a second?”

“Uh, yeah. We can take a break.” The band started moving as Harry pulled his guitar from off his body and rested it on its stand.

Harry closed the door behind him and stood between you and Jeff, his hands planted on his hips. “What’s going on?”

“I talked to you about that tweet this morning, right?” Jeff asked. Harry’s brow furrowed before a look of understanding took over his face.

He had woken up to a text from Jeff. Everyone was expecting an interview, which was much better than rumors about the two of you being in some kind of relationship, but it was a lie—one that would lead to severe disappointment, especially since people had gone as far as googling you in order to confirm that you were a writer from British Vogue. There were theories that you two met at fashion week, which they saw as a blessing if it meant an interview. Some people also did enough research on you to find your friendship with Sarah, and were over the moon that the interview was being done by someone who actually knew him. Everyone’s hopes were up, which was a problem.

“Well, how do you feel about actually doing the interview for Vogue?”

Harry sighed. “I don’t know.”

“Why not?” You asked. “I know they’ve been trying to get you for a while.”

He turned his attention to you. “I’ve met with two writers already, both of whom I did not like. And then the shoot ideas were…I just didn’t really like them.”

“What if (Y/N) interviewed you? Everyone already thinks she is.” Jeff offered.

“I don’t like her either.”

You sighed in slight frustration. “Harry, come on. Please.”

“You don’t like me either. Not doing an interview isn’t the end of the world.”

Harry caught the way that Jeff’s eyes flickered to you, a hint of worry in them. “I’m gonna make a quick call. You two figure this out.”

“Us too.” The sound engineers, who had been listening to the conversation that was quickly growing into an argument, announced before following Jeff out.

You plopped down on the couch and sighed. “Harry, I need you to do this interview.”

“Well, I don’t want to do it.”

“Harry, you’re not understanding. I need you to do it.”

He laughed. “What, did you get in trouble or something for lying?” When he saw the look on your face, his cocky smile disappeared and he sat down next to you. “Wait, you got in trouble?”

“Like I said, they’ve been trying to get you for months and my boss’s bosses think she managed some miracle and she can’t tell them that it was a lie. She obviously knew it was just a rumor, one that I started, but now she’s expecting me to deliver…or else it’s my job.”

“Wait, what?” He was shocked. “I do the interview, or you lose your job?”

You shrugged. “That’s what she said. I can’t tell if she was serious or not, but she was visibly mad at me. Since that stupid tweet, social media engagement has gone up and website views have gone up and people have even subscribed for the full year just so they can get their hands on whatever issue you’re supposed to be in. That’s a lot of people to disappoint. It would be a big failure…I’m starting to think Abby was serious about the job thing.”

“But that’s not fair.” He knew he didn’t particularly like the people at British Vogue. The two meetings he had with them hadn’t gone very well—and now they were threatening you with unemployment over a stupid rumor. “We could just say I backed out. It wouldn’t make you look bad at all. Right?”

He watched, a little worried, as you leaned back into the couch and let your head drop onto the back of it. “Harry, please. I know you don’t like me—that you sometimes hate me—but I have never asked you for anything.”

“Well,” he interrupted, “that’s not true. You have asked me to leave you alone several times.”

You closed your eyes and let out a frustrated sigh as you pinched the bridge of your nose with your fingers. Harry scooted closer and dropped his hand right above your knee and gave the spot a light squeeze.

“Sorry, I’m sorry. Maybe this isn’t the best time to be a dick—even as a joke.”

“Obviously.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this stressed out before. It’s weird. Usually you act like it’s all so easy.”

“I’ve never been threatened with unemployment before.”

“True.” The two of you didn’t say anything for a short moment, but Harry’s hand still rested on your knee. He sat up straight and peeked into the studio, where he saw Sarah and Charlotte continuously glancing over, obviously trying to see what the two of you were up to. He turned his attention back to you. “When do you need an answer by?”

“Monday.”

Harry pulled his hand from your knee and scratched at his chin. “Fuck…okay, I’ll do it.”

You sat up quickly, your eyes wide. “Really?”

“Yes.” He saw the way your eyes were searching his face.

“Like, actually? You’re not being mean and fucking with me right? Because I will cry.”

He laughed lightly. “No, I’m not messing with you. I’ll do it.” A huge smile overtook your face and your shoulders visibly relaxed. “But,” he held up a finger, “I’ve got some terms.”

You reached down and pulled your small notebook and pen from your bag. “Yeah, what are they?”

Harry fought the urge to tell you that you didn’t have to write it down, that Jeff would work the terms out with the magazine, but you looked so cute staring at him with eager eyes, the small book poised on your lap. “You’re the only writer and editor on this thing. I don’t trust the other ones. Those meetings I had, they all had some angle that they thought I was too stupid to notice, or something. I don’t want that happening. I don’t want someone else moving my words around or whatever, only you.” You nodded. “If there ends up being a shoot, I want you there.” You paused and looked up at him, your brow furrowed. “I trust you more than them. I told you, the past meetings didn’t go very well.”

“What if they say no? What if Abby isn’t okay with not being allowed to edit or they’re not okay with me being involved in the shoot?”

“Then we don’t do it.”

“But then what if I lose my job?”

“Love, that’s not going to happen.” He felt his chest tighten. He did it again. His eyes snapped to your face, looking for a hint of a reaction, but he saw none. You let him say it like it was normal, but he was sure you were only doing that as not to embarrass him.

“I hope not.” You let out a small sigh. “Thank you, Harry. I really, really appreciate it.”

“Of course. Jeff’s been wanting me to do this for a while so he’ll be over the fucking moon about it.” He stood up from the couch and you followed.

You two stood there for a moment, awkwardly staring at one another, very aware that Sarah’s eyes were probably on the both of you.

“I would hug you, but I know they’re all staring and I’m so not trying to add any fuel to fire Sarah’s intent on starting.” You said as you shoved the small notebook in your bag.

Harry shoved his hands in his pockets. “S’alright. You’ll just owe me one.” The silence returned and Harry cleared his throat. “We should probably go and tell Jeff.” You nodded in agreement and followed him back into the studio.

Harry went straight over to Jeff, who was sitting on the couch off to the side, and you were following him until Charlotte grabbed your arm and pulled you away.

“So?” Jeff asked.

“I’m gonna do it, I think.”

Jeff’s smile was huge. “Thank god, I feel like this—“

“Harry, can we invite (Y/N) to drinks tonight?” Jeff was cut off by Charlotte’s voice.

Harry turned and gave her a quick thumbs up and tried not to look over at you.

He finished his conversation with Jeff about what the two of you talked about and then moved back over to where the band was set up. “Ready to start again?”

Everyone offered a different version of “yes” and Harry moved to pick up his guitar while you backed away from where you were talking to the girls.

“You’re not staying?” Harry shouldn’t have asked that.

“Uh, no. I want to shower and stuff before drinks and I have a little bit of work to do.”

“Oh,” Harry looked down at his guitar.

“Yeah. Alright, bye guys. See you all later.” You sent everyone a big wave before moving towards the door. Sarah called to you that she would send you bar’s address and then you were gone.

You had been standing in front of your closet for close to twenty minutes. Your hands were planted firmly on your hips and your bottom lip was being split between your teeth.

It was just supposed to be casual drinks. Originally, you all were going to go a pub which was great since it meant that you could throw on jeans and a sweater, but as of twenty five minutes ago, the plans had changed. Somehow, as rehearsals were wrapping up, they got on the topic of sketch and Charlotte complained about never being able to get in. All it took was for Harry to make one call and now the six of you had a reservation in a little over half an hour.

You groaned in annoyance as you shoved your jeans down your legs and tossed the cozy sweater on your bed. Sketch London was beyond fancy and required something chic—or as chic as you could get. You knew that you would be going to The Gallery, which was the flagship restaurant, so pink was completely off limits since the entire room was a blush shade.

You opened your Pinterest app and opened the board you had filled with outfit inspiration. You scrolled through the endless pictures of girls in bright colors, looking for something a little more toned down. After going through the same pictures five times, you clicked on the one that had been catching your eye, but that you had been avoiding. You had a version of each element of the outfit, but you were a little worried that it was too much.

“Fuck it.” You sighed, knowing it was the only thing that you had even remotely wanted to wear—and after the stressful day you had, you deserved to feel hot.

You tossed your phone on your bed and moved to the drawer that was home to your bras. You dug to the bottom until you felt the soft lace and rigid underwire of the corset you hadn’t worn since you bought it. Before you could change your mind, you also pulled out the matching underwear you had bought with it. Both were cobalt blue, with matching lace patterns. You pulled the underwear on before undoing the eye hooks at the back of the corset. You wrapped it around you, with the front against your back and started doing up the hooks again. After the last one was fastened, you twisted it around and shimmied it up your body. You tucked your breasts into the balconette style cups before slipping your arms through the straps, which were sewn on the outside of each cup, sitting on the skin right next to your armpit. For a second, you questioned whether or not the outfit was worth the discomfort they would probably cause. The entire thing was sheer lace, your skin completely visible through it. Underwire ran under your breasts, lifting them slightly, and five pieces of boning ran vertically down the front. You jumped in front of the mirror, quickly taken over by the panic that your nipples were visible through the sheer material, but thankfully, the material on the cups was doubled and the lace design obscured them perfectly.

You pulled your black, straight leg trousers from where they were folded in the pile of fresh laundry on your bed and tugged them on. An accomplished smile took over your face when they ended an inch above where the corset did. You grabbed your black, cropped blazer from where hung in your closet and slipped your arms through and then lifted the legs of your pants so you could step into your black stilettos. Was the outfit a lot? Yes. Did you look hot as all hell? Of course.

Your makeup was already done since you had been completely ready before the change of plans, but you didn’t like the lip color with the look. You wiped it off and dragged the bright red stick over your lips as quickly and neatly as you could before tossing it into your usual black bag and grabbing your keys off the counter.

You were early, which was a fucking miracle. Granted, you were only two minutes early and everyone else was running late since they all stopped home after rehearsal to change, but still.

You were leaned against the front of the building, eyes glued to your Instagram feed when a woman’s hand clamped down on your arm. You jumped but felt yourself relax when you saw it was Charlotte.

“Hey!” She smiled at you and pulled you into a hug. “You look so fucking fit.” She said as you both pulled away.

“So do you.” You said and gave the puffy sleeve of her white top a tug.

“Look who showed up on time!” Sarah exclaimed before she leaned in to greet you with a kiss to your cheek.

“Yeah, for once.” Harry’s voice came from behind her. You ignored him, but spared him a glance, not failing to notice the way his eyes were grazing over your body, a small smirk playing on his lips.

You gave Mitch a hug as Charlotte made it clear that she was ready to go inside by complaining about being cold. She led everyone in and you followed at the back, not surprised when you saw Harry slow down his pace to walk beside you.

“Not gonna say hi?” He shoved his hands into his navy trousers.

“Am I supposed to be nice to you now?” You were teasing him and you could tell that he was aware by the small smile threatening to take over his lips.

“Guess not.” He shrugged.

“Good, because that’s not really my style.”

“Oh, trust me, I’m very aware.”

His eyes went down to the steps as you climbed them and stepped over the threshold of the entrance while your eyes moved over his bare chest which was exposed to you since he had several buttons undone. His cross swung back and forth, lightly grazing over his skin and suddenly you remembered him being on top of you, the way his chest looked slick with a sheer coat of sweat, the cross swinging back and forth as he moved above you.

You reached over and fixed the collar of his shirt. It was the one he had bought at the shop the other day. “You look kinda good.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m not really sure if that’s a compliment.”

Before you could say anything more, Adam was calling him to the front of the group. You stayed behind as Harry squeezed through Mitch and Sarah, who both turned around to look at you. You felt your cheeks heat up as if you had been caught doing something wrong and busied yourself with your phone while the host led you all through the room to your table.

When you finally looked up, a small gasp left your lips. Everything was blush pink: the walls, the velvet booths, the pillowy armchairs at the end of every table, the ceiling. The walls were covered in art by David Shrigley and elements of gold dotted the room: the bases of lamps with bubble-like, white shades, and the bases of the booths and the legs of the chairs. It was gorgeous and bright and it looked beyond expensive.  

Harry took the armchair at the end of the table as everyone else slid themselves into the booth where you ended up on the end, on Harry’s left.

“Have you ever been here before?” He asked as everyone settled into conversation at the table.

“Not here,” you landed a finger on the table top, “but I’ve been to the East Bar and the bathroom…the pods, but not here.”

“I hate the bar. I can barely fucking fit.”

You laughed lightly, “Yeah, it’s really tiny and everyone was, like, on top of one another. I was basically on the guy’s lap and I didn’t really even like him.”

“Oh, you went there on a date?” He had a weird look on his face which you couldn’t quite define.

“Yeah…why are you looking at me like that?”

“I just…I don’t know, I didn’t know you dated.” He started to fidget with the corner of his menu.

“What do you mean? You know I’ve been on dates. The bartender?”

“I know you sleep with people, but I didn’t know you, like, dated.” He couldn’t even look at you as he said it.

You tried to ignore the hurt that blossomed in your chest. “A little too early in the evening for slut shaming, don’t you think?” The words came out sharp. You saw his eyes widen slightly.

“That’s not what I meant. Really, I—“

“I don’t really want to hear it.” You were scanning the drink menu now, trying to hold in your anger. When the waiter came over, you ordered a dirty martini and then started twirling the rings on your fingers in hopes that the anger would subside soon.

What he said was beyond disrespectful and you didn’t believe for a second that it had come out wrong. What he was implying was more than clear to you. You had thought that the two of you were getting better. After coffee that day, you were even starting to like him—but of course, he had to ruin everything. The more you thought about it, the hotter your skin got with suppressed rage. You let your blazer fall off your shoulders and then onto the booth behind you.

You felt his eyes on you and when you decided that they had been lingering for a little too long, you looked at him. He was staring at your chest. His eyes flickered to meet yours and he cleared his throat before pointing to it. “Uh, your necklaces are a bit tangled.”

You looked down at the layered gold around your neck and fixed the two that had intertwined without saying “thank you”.

The second your drink landed in front of you, you brought it to your lips and took a bigger sip than you should’ve.

“How come you didn’t tell me about the interview?” Sarah caught your attention from the other side of the table.

“What interview?”

“Harry’s interview.”

Your brow furrowed. “Because it wasn’t a thing until today?”

It was Sarah’s turn to look confused. “What?”

“She means the particulars weren’t fully worked out until today. We started it at coffee the other day but it wasn’t really official until today.” Harry explained.

“But why didn’t you tell me?” Sarah asked.

“I didn’t know I had to.” Your residual anger at Harry was showing.

Sarah looked a little taken aback. “Sorry, I was just asking.”

“I think it’s cool that you’re gonna be in British Vogue.” Charlotte said. “I hope they do a cool shoot.”

Harry smiled at her. “Thanks.”

The table was silent for a second before Mitch spoke. “So I have an idea for Stockholm Syndrome…” Harry groaned and the table launched into a messy conversation about the new arrangement they were working on. You sunk a little into the booth and picked a piece of lint off your pants.

Adam gave you a small nudge with his elbow. “You alright?” He asked softly.

You nodded. “Just a rough day at work.”

He reached forward and grabbed his glass and held it up. “Go on.” He nodded towards yours. Once you had mirrored his position he clinked his glass with yours and you both took a sip.

“Are you having a cheers without us?” Charlotte asked from her spot next to him.

“Yes. We are. We had a secret cheers.”

“S’not right.” Charlotte mocked offense and shook her head.

“We could do another?” Adam offered and everyone else at the table leaned forward and reached for their glasses. Once they were all poised in the air, Adam went on. “Right, uh, I don’t exactly know what to cheers to.”

“Me.” Harry smiled cheekily from his seat.

“Bloody narcissist.” Adam teased with a small shake of his head. “Fine. To Harry, the man with the biggest ego I’ve ever seen.”

Everyone laughed, even Harry, and clinked their glasses together. You took another sip and when you saw that you had downed enough of the alcohol that an olive was peeking out, you stuck your fingers in and fished it out.

“You know you’re supposed to wait until the drink is finished before eating those, right?”

You ignored Harry and munched on the olive, tuning back in to the conversation that was going on around you. You heard him sigh in what you assumed was annoyance before he took a sip of whatever it was he was drinking.

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught him glancing over at you every few moments, even when you weren’t talking. He barely engaged as you all downed your first drinks, just sat there in silence, listening to all of you talk about nothing. You had a feeling he was in a pissy mood because you were ignoring him, which did make you feel a little better. It was what he deserved.

You thanked the waiter when he placed the second round on the table and pulled your glass towards you before leaning forward and slurping at it, knowing that if you tried to pick the full glass up, you would lose half of your drink.

Harry scoffed, “Classy.”

“Leave her alone.” Mitch said.

“Leave who alone?” You asked. “I didn’t hear anything.” You looked around the table, your face contorted in fake confusion. “Did someone say something?”

“Oh no.” Charlotte muttered before taking a long sip from her glass.

“You’re a fucking child.”

“Hm, there’s that buzzing again. I can’t be the only one who hears it.” You brought your glass to your lips and tried not to laugh at the way Harry was fidgeting in his seat. It was too easy to get to him.

Another thirty minutes passed with you pretending that Harry didn’t exist and him doing the same to you. He was pissed at how childish you were being. He said one wrong thing and now you were being the world’s biggest bitch. He couldn’t believe that he had actually been starting to like you, that this was the same girl he had enjoyed spending time with at the coffee shop.

When the waiter returned with the third round of drinks, Harry quickly finished his second tequila on the rocks before pulled the third one closer to him.

His knee bounced along to the beat of the vaguely familiar song that was playing as he fought his eyes that begged to wander. He knew exactly where they wanted to look. When you started talking again, he allowed himself a glance so it didn’t look too suspicious. You looked hot—all he wanted to do was touch you. He tried to blame the tequila, but he knew that wasn’t it. The second he saw you outside he wanted nothing more than to take you home. He watched your face as you talked and focused in on the way your lashes fluttered, the way your lips spread over your teeth when you smiled, how your nose scrunched up when you laughed along with everyone else at the table. He felt his chest grow warm and quickly assured himself that it was nothing more than the tequila finally getting to him.

When Mitch went to pick up the drink menu he had knocked on the floor, Harry scooted his chair a bit closer towards you to give him some room to bend down, causing his bag to fall off the corner of his chair. The black bag fell on its side, some of the contents spilling out of the top since he hadn’t closed it properly.

When he saw the corner of the book peeking out from the top, he felt panic rise in him. Unfortunately, before he could shove it back inside, you had reached down and grabbed it, pulling the paperback from his bag and holding it up by its corner.

“Why am I not surprised that you carry Bukowski around like its your fucking bible?”

He snatched the book from your hand. “So now that you want to make fun of me, I exist?”

“You really do idolize that misogynistic prick, don’t you?”

“Haven’t you teased him about his reading tastes enough?” Charlotte asked tentatively.

“Apparently not, since he still fucking reads this garbage.”

Harry put his bag back on the chair and looked over at Charlotte. “It’s not teasing. She’s being a fucking asshole.”

“It’s not being an asshole if I’m right.”

“The problem is, you always think you’re right.”

“When it comes to you, I am.”

“Why? Because I’m an idiot? Because you’re so much smarter than me?” Harry was seething as he watched you sit back nonchalantly.

“I didn’t say it. You did.”

“What I read doesn’t make me any less than you.”

He couldn’t believe how unbothered you looked as you picked at the polish on your nails. “We’ve already had this conversation, Harry. Do I need to explain it slower so you understand?”

His hand was fisted on the table, his knuckles turning a bright shade of white. Before he could say anything back, Mitch’s hand was clamped down on his shoulder. “How about some air?”

“Yeah.” Harry said before shrugging his hand off and standing up.

Instead of leading him towards the door, Mitch took him to the bar and ordered two shots of tequila. He turned to Harry. “You need to relax, man.”

“I need to relax? She needs to stop being such a bitch.”

“Look, I know you two…did something or whatever.”

“What?”

“I know because you keep staring at her like you want to drag her to the bathroom and fuck her or something.”

“We didn’t do anything.”

“But you want to.”

“No,” Harry shook his head. “She’s not even worth the hate fuck.”

“Fine, whatever, but you need to calm down before we go back over there. We’ll finish this round and then call it a night.”

Harry took the shot from Mitch. “Yeah, okay.”

By time they got back to the table, everyone had moved on and the tension had subsided. Sarah had told you that you were being an asshole but you ignored her. You knew he had started it the second you all sat down.

He had stopped looking at you. It was the first thing you noticed as you all talked through your third and final round. Even when you spoke, his eyes never moved your way. He would stare into his glass as he jostled the ice around or checked the notifications on his phone.

He ignored your thanks after he paid for the check and knocked into you, cutting you off as you all stood up and started walking towards the exit. He was being extremely cold—and for the first time, you really thought you might’ve deserved it.

“You call an Uber yet?” Charlotte asked as you all stepped outside.

“I’m actually going to take a black cab. They’re a little safer, according to my grandma.”

“She’s right, actually. Good on her.” Charlotte smiled before pulling you into a hug. “Let us know when you get home, yeah?”

“I will. Like, actually this time.” You both laughed lightly before pulling away. You hugged everyone else goodbye, except for Harry who started walking away as soon as the other four piled into their Ubers.

“Harry, wait.” You immediately regretted it, but it was too late. He had turned around to face you, a bored expression on his face. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

He ran a hand through his hair. “If it’s absolutely necessary.”

You pulled the small blazer tight around your body. “It is, actually.” He walked over to you slowly and stopped right in front of you. You looked around at the people milling about the front of the building. “Can we walk a little?”

“I guess, but you only have until my driver gets here.” He was barely looking at you as he spoke. You started walking down the street and he followed.

You took a deep breath, knowing it was going to take a lot to get the words out. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” You should’ve known he would make it difficult.

“I’m sorry for the way I acted and for what I said to you. It was wrong and it was a bitchy thing to say. As right as I am about Bukowski being an enormous piece of shit, I shouldn’t have called you out the way I did. There are much better ways to have that conversation and it as wrong of me.”

“Wow.” He breathed.

“What?”

“I just can’t believe you’re actually being an adult about this.”

“You’re supposed to forgive me, not make fun of me.”

“I feel like there’s probably more you should apologize for first.”

You sighed. “Fine. I’m sorry that I didn’t correct you when you said that I thought you were less than, because I don’t. I think you have shit taste, but I don’t think it makes you less than me.”

“And the smarter than me thing?”

“Yeah, I’m not apologizing for that.”

He tried to swallow his laugh. “Yeah, I didn’t think you would but I had to try.” He grabbed your arm and stopped you from walking further. “I’m sorry for what I said. I swear I wasn’t trying to imply that you slept around or that there was anything wrong with that. I just…I just thought that since we were like, hooking up, it was your norm, since you seem to unbothered by it.”

“Oh.” You didn’t really know what to say.

“Really, love. I didn’t mean anything nasty by it.”

You looked up at him and had an overwhelming feeling that he was being sincere. It was the first time you ever got that feeling from him. He was looking at you like he cared, like it mattered to him that you believed him.

You leaned forward and placed a quick kiss to his lips. “I believe you.”

He looked surprised, but quickly recovered. He brought his hands up and placed them on either side of your face before leaning in and kissing you again. He walked you back slowly until your back hit the window of a storefront. He moved his right hand from your cheek to your waist as you locked your arms around his neck.

After a few moments, he pulled away. “Come home with me.’

“On one condition.”

“Anything.” He whispered.

You pushed him away slightly and held your right hand out in between the two of you. “Give me the book.”

“What?” You could tell it was not the request he was expecting.

You nodded towards the bag he had slung across his chest. “The book. Give it to me.” 

“I’m gonna fucking regret this.” He muttered but moved to unfasten his bag. He pulled it out and slapped it down into your hand.

“Thank you.” Your voice was bright and you tried to fight off a smile. “S’cuse me.” You stepped around him and started walking towards the corner of the street, where the trash can was located.

“(Y/N), come on. You can’t be fucking serious. I’ve got notes in there.”

You flipped through the book as you walked, surprised to find that there were, in fact, scribbles on most pages. “Unless they’re notes about how much of a pig he is, they’re useless.” You stopped in front of the trash can, gripped the thin paperback at the top, one hand on each cover, and tore it right down the middle. You tossed both halves into the bin before turning around to face an open mouthed Harry. “Your driver’s back the way we came, yeah?”

“This was a bit cruel.” He mumbled against your shoulder, nosing the strap of your corset as he pushed the key into its lock. He had his other arm wrapped around your waist, your blazer (that he had you take off in the car) resting over his forearm. You didn’t say anything, only moved in closer, tucking yourself into his front as he pushed the door open.

He pulled you inside and closed the door. His hands immediately went to your waist, causing your blazer to fall to the floor, and he pulled you in for a kiss. You rested your hands on either side of his neck and sighed when he gave your waist a squeeze.

“Want anything to drink?” He mumbled against your lips.

“Not particularly.”

“Good.” He smirked before walking you back towards the stairs, his lips never leaving yours. “C’mon.” He said before turning around and grabbing your hand. He was pulling you up the stairs quickly, not seeming to care that you were in extremely high heels. He pulled you up from the last step, causing you to stumble into him. He found your lips quickly and let his hands wander down the sides of your body before landing on your ass.

You pulled away and wiped your thumb over the red lipstick smudged at the corner of his mouth. “C’mon.” You mocked him in a whisper, before walking around him and towards his bedroom, letting your nails trail along the wall of the hallway.

You heard his footsteps close behind you and once you were in the room, he came up and wrapped his arms around you. You could feel how hard he was through the material of your pants and dropped your head to the side, letting him trail kisses along your neck. You sighed when he began to suck at the skin right below your ear. He unfastened the hook of your pants and pulled down the zipper before dipping his right hand inside. His lips ghosted over your ear. “Was hoping for this all night.” He brushed his fingers over your lace covered clit, causing you to sigh. He did it again but with a little more pressure and your head fell back onto his shoulder; your eyes shut as you let out a small moan.

He pulled his hand out and turned you so that you were facing him. He slipped his tongue into your mouth and moaned when you twisted his hair around your fingers. Harry started walking you back towards the bed as you dropped your hands to his chest and started undoing the buttons of his shirt. Your fingertips light on his skin was a tease. Every time they brushed against his chest and then his stomach, he had to hold in a needy whimper.

The backs of your legs hit the foot of his bed just as you undid the last button. You pushed the silky shirt off his shoulder and shook your head when he tried to push your hips down, signaling that he wanted you on the bed. He pulled away from your kiss and searched your eyes, his brow furrowed in confusion. Instead of giving him an explanation, you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth before moving your hands down to the waist band of his trousers. You slipped your fingers between the band and his skin and moved to stand in front of him, tugging on his trousers and making him turn with you so that he was in your previous position.

He rested his hands on either side of your neck, his thumbs brushing the edge of your jaw as you looked down, working on the fastening and zipper of his pants. Once they were loose around his waist, he tilted your head up to face him and pulled you in closer, landing his lips back on yours. You let him kick off his shoes before pushing the pants off his hips. After he had kicked them away, you dropped your right hand in between your bodies and palmed his length in his boxers, earning you a gasp from Harry. You continued to massage his erection as he began to kiss you deeper, his hands tight on the sides of your jaw. When his teeth closed on your bottom lip, you let out a soft mewl and slid your hand down to cup his balls.

You could sense the neediness between the two of you growing. You could feel the pool that had formed between your thighs and as much as you loved the way he was holding your face as he kissed you, you wanted his hands on your body. You needed him to relieve the ache that was growing in the pit of your stomach—but you needed to take care of him first. He was always so concerned with you, which was more than great, but he always stopped you from making him feel as good as you knew you could. You wanted him in your mouth and this time, you were going to get it.

You moved your hands to your waist and pushed your own trousers down your hips and stepped out of them, being sure to keep the heels on, leaving you in the corset in matching panties. Before you could make another move, Harry’s hands were on your hips pulling you back into him. “Matched just for me, yeah?”

You leaned forward and gave him a soft kiss and let your lips hover there. “If believing that makes you feel good, then yeah. I matched just for you.” Harry tried to hold back his smile as he kissed you again, but you pushed him away completely before he could kiss you any deeper.

Your eyes never left his as you lowered yourself to your knees in front of him. You placed your palms flat on his thighs and moved them up, letting your fingers dip under the fabric of his boxers on his legs. You felt his muscles tense up as you dragged your nails lightly over his skin as you pulled your hands out. You wanted to tease him, but the boxers were more or less in your way. You dipped your hands under his boxers again and dug your nails into his skin before rising up and placing an openmouthed kiss on his clothed tip, pulling a small, shuddering breath from Harry.

When you lifted your eyes up to his face, you saw that he’s cheeks were already flushed in anticipation. He watched as you placed your hands on the waistband of his briefs and pulled them down slowly. You pushed them all the way down his legs and let him step out of them before tossing them to the side. Harry moved back so he was leaning on the edge of the bed, almost sitting down, so that you had better access to all of him. You slid your hands up his thighs the same way you had done before as you placed soft kisses on the insides of them, only a few centimeters from his length. Harry was trying desperately hard not to move his hips and you could feel it. He didn’t want to be teased anymore, he wanted your tongue swirling around his tip and he wanted to be at the back of your throat, but he didn’t want to stop you either. You were paying such close attention to him, more than you had paid him the whole night, more attention than you ever paid him at all and he didn’t want to speed any of it up, just in case he never got it again.

He let out a breathy curse when you lazily flicked your tongue at the base of his length while cupping his balls lightly in your right hand. Harry lifted his right hand from where it was planted on the bed, holding him up, and brushed his thumb against your temple before pushing his hand back so his palm rested on the edge of your cheek and his fingers were threaded through your hair. You started massaging his balls softly in your hand and placed an open mouthed kiss to his length.

“(Y/N)…” He breathed.

“Hm?” You didn’t look up at him and continued leaving short licks at the base of his cock.

“Please—fuck.”

“Please what?” When you looked up at him, he saw the smirk you were trying to hide. He should’ve known this was still a game, despite the way you were treating him. He knew that it would change from here. You wanted him to ask for it, the same way he always made you, and then this gentle part of you would disappear, even though he didn’t really want it to.

He adjusted the hand that was in your hair. “Your mouth. Please.”

You gave his balls another light squeeze before swirling your tongue around his tip, but didn’t take him into your mouth. You moved to the base of his cock and licked up his length before repeating the action at his tip and Harry moved his hand to the back of your head. You let him guide you down, taking as much of him into your mouth as you could before he released the pressure and let you come back up. He continued to guide you, a string of moans and curses leaving his lips. You hollowed out your cheeks every time you moved back up and made sure to flick your tongue at the underside of his tip which always earned you a harsh intake of breath from him. You moved your right hand from his balls to the base of his cock, wanting to make sure you were touching all of him. Your hand followed your mouth up and then led your lips back down, twisting as it moved, forcing Harry’s moans to become louder.

You let your eyes flicker up to him as you continued to slide your lips up and down his cock and saw that his were glued to you. He had the one hand in your hair as the other held him up where he was leaning on the bed. His mouth hung open slightly, short breaths escaping, and then he was biting down on his bottom lip while his brow furrowed in pleasure. His cheeks were pink and his pupils looked blown, the usual green almost completely gone.

“Fuck, baby.” It came out as a pant. Once again, he was trying to stop his hips from bucking into your mouth. You were going so slow and it felt good, but he ached to go faster. He remembered the way he fucked your mouth in the car all those weeks ago and he wanted to do it again.

You saw his hand gripping at the comforter of his bed and you felt the restrained thrusts each time he guided you back down. You knew exactly what he wanted, but you wanted him to ask for it. After the fifth time he held back his thrust, you knew he wasn’t going to ask without a bit of prodding on your part. You pulled your mouth off of him and sat back on your heels, but kept your hand pumping slowly.

“Is there something you want?” You smirked when you saw the slightly surprised look on his face, but he recovered quickly.

He took his hand from the back of your head and ran his thumb along your swollen bottom lip before pushing it into your mouth. You ran your tongue over it and then bit down lightly. “I want to fuck your pretty mouth.”

You felt warmth blossom between your thighs at the words and could feel your wetness on the insides of your thighs. There was something about Harry that turned you on in a way that most guys didn’t. You had never been this turned on by giving someone head. You were never dripping in the way you were for him. “Well, what are you waiting for?” A cocky grin overtook his face when he heard your response.

You rose back up on your knees and moved to take him back into your mouth as he returned his hand to your hair. He guided you down again, a little faster but still relatively slowly, further than before, making your nose brush against his pelvic bone. You breathed through your nose as he did it again, not wanting to gag too soon. You were stronger than that. You kept your lips tight around his cock as he let you up, swirled your tongue around his tip, and kept them tight as you moved back down, until he hit the back of your throat, causing you to loosen them.

Each time he hit the back of your throat, a guttural curse left his lips. When he loosened his grip to let you back up, you stayed hovering at the base of his cock, signaling exactly what you wanted him to do. Harry thrusted his hips into your mouth, his hand carefully and softly holding your head in place. When you didn’t pull away, he did it again, deeper, and you could feel the tears start to form at the corners of your eyes. The third time, he pushed himself in far, causing you to gag and lift your head off of him. You pumped your hand on him once as you blinked back the tears and took a breath before going back down.

When Harry saw you get ready to go back down, he couldn’t hold in the groan bubbling in his throat. He placed his hand in its previous position and let you move yourself back down. He pushed his hips into you and cursed when he felt your lips at the base of his cock.

“Fuck, baby. That’s good.” His voice was raspy and thick. His cheeks were warm and he was glad you couldn’t see him then, so entranced by you, his entire face glazed over in desire. He thrusted in your mouth again and you moaned, causing him to grip harder onto your hair. He couldn’t help but think about how wet you probably were. He was torn between wanting to fuck you and not wanting this picture of you to end. He saw you blink your eyes rapidly as he pushed his cock into your mouth and knew your lips were probably red and swollen. You let out another moan before he pushed too deep and caused you to gag again.

He pulled you off of him and watched you take a breath. Your eyes were watery and a few tears had managed to slip down your cheeks. He grabbed your wrist and stopped you from pumping his length. “C’mere.” He whispered while giving your arm a small tug. You stood up and moved closer to him, slotting yourself right between his legs. He brushed the tears off your cheeks with the backs of his fingers before smirking. “Ruined.”

You rolled your eyes at him, remembering what he said the night of the party and tried to fight off the small smile that threatened to overtake your face. You slipped your feet out of your heels and moved them to the side. Harry tugged at the bottom of the corset.

“I want this off.” You turned around and showed him the many eye hooks at the back. “Bloody hell.” You attempted to swallow a chuckle, but failed. He moved a little further onto the bed and sighed before grabbing your hips and pulling you back into him so you were perched at the edge of the bed, right between his legs. He undid all the hooks as quickly as he could, periodically placing kisses over your shoulder bones and back. Once he had them all undone, he pushed it forward and off your shoulders before running his nails over the small indents it had left on your skin, sending chills over your body.

You stood up and turned to face him. He gripped your waist and pulled you in for a kiss. A needy whimper left you immediately and he knew that you were probably suffering. He trailed kisses along your jaw before moving to your neck as his right hand trailed over your hip and the top of your thigh, landing right at your clit. He rubbed his finger over the wet spot and couldn’t help but move to your center. He wanted to know how much you wanted him.

“Fuck.” He whispered against your skin when he felt the pool between your thighs. The thin lace of your panties was completely soaked through and the sides of your thighs were slick. He pushed the material to the side and dipped his finger in before sliding it up your folds and back to your clit. You let out a shaky moan and immediately felt your stomach tighten. You were aching for him in an embarrassing way. He sucked at the spot right under your ear and he drew circles around the small bud, pulling a string of curses from your lips.

You couldn’t take it anymore. You tugged at his hair so he lifted his head and pushed on his chest. “Move back.”

“What?” He kissed your jaw and then your lips.

“On the bed. On your back.” He smiled into the kiss and then pushed himself back. You didn’t move until his head was on the mound of pillows near the headboard. You pushed your panties down your legs as he watched you and then walked to where he was situated on your knees. When you reached his hips, you lifted your left leg and placed it on the other side of him, hovering your center directly above him.

Harry put his hands on your thighs and let his fingers dig slightly into your skin as you sat yourself on his length and started rocking your hips back and forth, his cock sliding between your folds. You leaned forward and placed your hands on either side of his head and bent down to kiss him. He cursed when his tip slipped between your folds and you moaned when it brushed against your clit.

He hovered his lips over yours. “One second.” He pushed himself up onto his elbows, causing you to sit up straight, your center flat against his length. His hand gripped onto your thigh and he paused, letting out a shaky breath. “Try not to move.” He mumbled before removing his hand and leaning over towards his nightstand.

You bit back a smirk as he opened the drawer and ripped one off the strand in the box before returning to his position. You scooted back and lifted your hips, and watched him roll it on. When he was done, you moved back up and started the roll of your hips again, intent on teasing him just a little bit more. You could tell he was growing impatient by the way his hands gripped harshly onto your hips as he tried to control your movements. You leaned down and placed a soft kiss to his lips and then his jaw. He turned his head to the side and nibbled lightly on your earlobe, causing you to let out a breathy sigh.

“C’mon, love. Ride me.” His whisper was all you needed.

You lifted your hips slightly so he could line himself up before you sunk down.

“Holy fuck,” you gasped. He felt deeper than last time, this position apparently offering an angle that allowed him to fill you completely. You barely moved your hips forward, but the sensation was overwhelming, causing your eyes to flutter closed. Harry’s hands were planted firmly on your hips and his brow was furrowed as he stared up at you. He wanted you to start moving; he was aching to feel you but he could tell that you needed a second to adjust and he didn’t want to rush you.

You put your hands on his chest and leaned forward slightly, giving yourself the space to start rolling your hips against his. He winced at the feeling of your nails digging into the swallows on his chest and then let out a rough groan when you sat back and sunk down, taking in all of him.

You continued the movement of your hips and tried to stop your eyes from fluttering closed, not wanting to miss a second of Harry’s pleasure. His eyes were roaming over your chest and then your face as his thumbs brushed lightly over the skin of your hips. He loved watching you, part of the pleasure he was experiencing coming solely from seeing the way you looked on top of him. He wanted to sit up and kiss your swollen lips, to move the stray hair that had fallen across your forehead, to hug your body into his as you rode him—but you looked too good in that moment. He didn’t want to ruin it.

A strangled moan left your lips when you sped up your movements a bit. Your body jerked forward, the pressure with which your clit rubbed against Harry’s skin being a little too much, causing your right hand to slip from his chest to the base of his neck, the space between your thumb and forefinger resting comfortably on his collarbone.

Harry’s eyes widened slightly, his eyes snapping up from where he was staring at your chest to your face, but your eyes were closed. He trailed his right hand up your body and closed his fingers around your nipple. “Fuck,” he sighed. He continued to massage your breast as you rolled your hips over his, but he wanted more. He pinched the small bud again, but a little harsher. You inhaled sharply and opened your eyes to find that he was already staring at you. “Slow down and look at me.”

You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and did as he said. He cursed lowly as his hands roamed over your body. Your eyes flickered to the hand that rested at the base of his neck; you inched it up until your thumb and forefinger were on either side of his neck and waited to see his reaction.

“If you’re going to do it, then do it.” His words were rushed, almost as if he was embarrassed, but he didn’t look it.

You slid your hand up until your hand was comfortably around his neck. Harry let out a pleased hum when you applied barely any pressure, causing a warmth to form in the pit of your stomach. You had never done this to a guy before. Usually, you were on the receiving end, but you were enjoying this—and a little surprised that it turned you on as much as it did.

You applied a little more pressure, but not much, afraid of making him uncomfortable as you continued to ride him. You felt the muscles tighten as your pleasure built. Harry wanted you to go slow and so you tried to maintain your pace, despite your body begging you to go faster. You settled for riding him harder, your hips moving with more force than before. Without thinking about it, your grip on his neck tightened. Harry released a guttural moan, one that was loud and that sent you over the edge. You fell forward onto his chest with a strangled cry, your fingers still on his neck. The high only kept building as you moved your hips, a prolonged high from moving so slowly. One of his hands planted themselves on your ass, helping you continue to push your hips forward and the other moved up and tangled in your hair.

“C’mon, baby. Keep coming.”

You body began to tremble against his as you bit down lightly on his shoulder, trying hard to muffle the scream. Harry audibly winced but didn’t try and move you. He stayed put, his hands holding you to him as you came down from your high.

When you were done, you kissed the small mark you left on his shoulder, then trailed kisses up his neck and jaw. “Sorry.” You whispered.

Instead of answering, Harry wrapped his arm tight around your waist and flipped you over so that he was on top of you. He stood on his knees and threw your right leg over his left shoulder before leaning forward on his hands and  pushing into you quickly. A surprised gasp left your lips and your hands went straight to his biceps. His eyes were locked in on yours as he fucked you rather roughly. He wasn’t going fast, which was agonizing for the both of you. You could feel all of him move in and out of you and his body wanted him to speed up, but he didn’t want it to end.

He moved all of his weight onto his left arm and slid his right hand over your chest and then up to our neck before he did exactly what you did to him. He applied much more pressure than you did, though, because he knew from last time just how much force you liked. You stretched your neck back so he could get a better handle on it and let out a soft whimper when he applied pressure again.

When your eyes met his again, you didn’t miss the mischievous glint in them. You stuck your tongue out just in time to catch the spit Harry let drop from his mouth. He watched you swallow it, a satisfied smirk on your lips.

“Fuck,” he moaned. He moved his hand and brushed his thumb over your bottom lip, before he dropped down onto his elbow, his hips still bucking into yours. You moved your hands to his hair and pulled him the rest of the way so you could kiss him. He slipped his tongue in your mouth, indulging you for only a short moment before pulling away. “You liked that?”

Your pleased hum was accompanied by a nod. “I want you to fuck me harder.”

He let out a quiet groan at your words. “I’ll cum.”

“Please.” It was a desperate plea, one that he couldn’t ignore. He slammed his hips into you, pulling a startled gasp from your lips—and then did it again and again. His thrusts were getting sloppy and his face was in your neck, a sign that he was close.

“Fuck,” His words were harsh and rushed, a string of curses spilling from his lips. “I’m gonna come.”

“Harry…”

Hearing his name was enough. He let out a choked curse as he came, his thrusts becoming lazy and slow. You ran your fingers through his curls as he came down and let him press tired kisses to the skin of your neck.

He pushed off of you, letting the cold air hit your warm and relatively sweaty body which sent a shiver through you. You wiped your forehead with the back of your hand to remove any traces of sweat and watched as Harry walked into his bathroom to throw away the condom and clean himself off.

“Do you want a glass of water?” He asked when he reentered the room.

“Please.” You sat up.

He pulled on a pair of briefs before standing at the foot of the bed with his hands on his hips and a thoughtful look on his face. “You’re gonna stay, right?”

You were slightly taken aback. “What?”

“You’re gonna stay here tonight, right?”

“I—what time is it?” You looked around the room for a clock.

“It doesn’t matter. It’s late. Do you want to stay?”

“Uh, yeah. I’ll stay.”

His shoulders relaxed as he nodded before mumbling that he would be back.

Did you want to stay? You didn’t not want to. In fact, Harry’s bed felt more comfortable than your own and you had nothing urgent to attend to in the morning. Something felt different, though. You didn’t feel the same way as last time he asked—like it was completely out of the question. It didn’t seem like a ridiculous idea. Just like last time, you didn’t have anything—no clothes, no toothbrush, no makeup remover—but it didn’t seem to matter now, which was an unsettling revelation.

You also couldn’t ignore the warm feeling in your chest that bloomed at the idea of him wanting you to stay. There wasn’t the same urge to tease him for it and you knew why. You didn’t hate him as much as you wanted to anymore. He made you feel good and he was willingly going to help you out at work and he was relatively nice to you tonight—but most importantly, you had enjoyed your time with him at the coffee shop, alone. Since then, you had this nagging feeling that you were missing something, that the guy you had spent the afternoon with wasn’t the same person who was so awful to you, he also couldn’t be the person you thought he was. But what you knew about him said otherwise. You didn’t think you liked him, at least not completely, but your hatred was getting hazy.

You pushed yourself off of the bed and stepped into your underwear, grimacing when you felt that they were still wet. You didn’t want to put your corset back on, nor did you feel comfortable going through Harry’s things in search of a t-shirt. You looked around his room, hoping that he had a pile of dirty laundry somewhere, but frowned when the only thing you saw was the shirt he had worn to the bar. You sighed and moved to pick it up when you caught a flash of red out of the corner of your eye.

On his dresser, underneath another sweater was the varsity sweater the two of you had agreed to share. You dropped the button up back on the floor before pulling the cardigan from the stack and slipping it on.

Harry stepped away from his microwave when he heard your feet padding down the stairs and looked towards the entrance of the kitchen. His brow furrowed when he heard your footsteps and then the front door shut quietly. For a second, he felt panic rise in his chest at the idea of you sneaking out. He left the popcorn popping in the microwave and went to the door. He grabbed his green coat from the closet and slipped it on, not wanting to stand on his porch in in underwear, before going outside.

He relaxed when he smelled the smoke. He turned to the left and saw you leaned over the railing that enclosed the small porch, a cigarette stuck between your fingers. He shook his head when he saw that you were in nothing but his sweater and your underwear.

“Excuse me.”

You jumped att he sound of his voice, your hand immediately covering your heart. “Jesus, Harry. You scared the shit out of me.”

He walked over to you slowly, holding the coat tight around his body. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“What does it look like?” You took another drag.

He leaned over and plucked the cigarette from your fingers and you pulled it from your mouth. “It looks like you’re smoking in my sweater. You’re gonna make it all smelly.” He put the cigarette out on the railing.

“It’s my sweater too.”

“Not yet.” He corrected and you rolled your eyes. “Besides that, why are you half naked in front of my house?”

“It’s not like anyone can see me. Your front lawn is, like, miles long. I needed somewhere to smoke.”

“I thought that was a drunk thing…and a stress thing.”

“It’s also a sex thing.”

Harry sighed. “You really need to stop that. It’s getting worse.”

“We’re not fucking anymore. You don’t have to pretend to care, Harry.” You turned around and leaned your back against the railing, your arms crossed tightly over your chest.

He shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’m not pretending.”

You rolled your eyes. “Harry—“

“No, I care.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Harry, stop.”

“Stop, what?” He was growing frustrated.

You shook your head. “Forget it. I don’t want to fight with you.” You looked at the side of the house, not wanting to look at him.

He watched you shiver and moved closer to you. He walked to stand in front of you and pulled your arms from their crossed position before stepping into you hesitantly, wrapping you up in his coat. He relaxed when he felt your cold arms wrap around his back under the fabric. “You’re still staying right?”

You nodded against his chest.

“But, like, with me? In my bed.”

You laughed softly. “Obviously, Harry.”

“Good.” He pulled you closer. “How about we go inside now. It’s bloody cold.” He pulled away from you and waited until you started walking towards the door to follow you in.

He hated how insecure he felt—and so suddenly. He hoped he didn’t sound needy, over eager for you to stay, but he didn’t want it to be like last time. He wasn’t sure he hated you anymore and for a while, he thought he liked you, but tonight you had seemed to ruin all of that. He was utterly confused and felt as if he didn’t know who you were at all anymore, but he knew that he didn’t want you to leave.

He knew you could be nice, he knew you could be funny, and not so hard, but it seemed that he only got that part of you in fleeting moments and he wanted more of it. He was sure it was because you didn’t like him. You had made that much clear tonight, but then you apologized—and it sounded genuine.

He needed to talk to you, but he wasn’t sure how to start the conversation.

He closed the door behind him and pulled his jacket off. “Have you told your boss about the interview yet?”

You shook your head. “I was going to wait until tomorrow morning. I hope she’s not still so mad. I was doing so well and she liked me…I fucked that one up.”

“What if you also sent her part of the interview? Would she like you again, then?” Harry tossed his jacket in the closet and closed the door.

Your brow furrowed. “How am I supposed to do that when we haven’t even done it yet?”

“We could do it now?”

You tried to hide your smile. “Like, actually?”

“Yeah,” he shrugged. “If it’ll help.”

“That’s…really nice of you.”

Harry felt his cheeks flush but tried to ignore it. “How about you go upstairs and get ready or whatever and I’ll be up in a second.”

You nodded eagerly before turning and hopping up the steps, the oversized sweater hanging lazily off your shoulders.

It wasn’t totally nice of him. He knew offering to start the interview now would make you more inclined to talk to him about what you thought of him, about why you didn’t like him and he was sure that it would give him more than one opportunity to ask about you.

When Harry reentered his bedroom with a bowl of popcorn and two bottle of water, you were already sat crosslegged on his bed, your phone on the covers in front of you. He set the popcorn down before climbing onto the bed. You were both sitting with your legs crossed under you, the phone in between you.

“Ready?” You asked after taking a drink of water.

Harry popped a few pieces of popcorn into his mouth. “Yup.”

You pressed the “record” button on your phone. “What the fuck is with you and the grandpa sweaters?” Harry choked and then started coughing as laughter bubbled up your throat. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” You waited until he finished drinking his water and regaining his composure before asking your actual question. “When curating the Fine Line era’s aesthetic, how much attention did you pay to the fashion? How will that carry over into what you wear for the tour?”

You tried to fight off the smile as you listened to him explain how long it took him and Harry Lambert to really decide what the era would look like clothes wise and how natural it seemed to be in the end. This was a side of him that you had never really seen before. You hadn’t ever heard him talk about how much work he put into all of it, how involved he was. It was easy to see how much he cared and how detailed oriented he was.

“Does that answer it?” His brow was furrowed, but there was the hint of a smile on his face. He knew he gave you a great answer.

“When you go out day to day, grandpa sweaters and all,” He rolled his eyes at your smirk. “Is that you? Or is that Harry Lambert?”

“I think it’s probably both…” A concentrated look took over his face as he tried to sort out how much of his style was innately him and how much of it was Lambert’s influence.

You could see how easy it was for people to like him and, for a moment, completely forgot why you didn’t. As he talked, you found yourself almost mesmerized by him. You saw the charm everyone always talked about and there was a flutter in your chest when his eyes flickered over to you. There was no way to deny it was there, but you weren’t totally sure what to do about it.

You needed to know.

“Why did you cheat on your ex-girlfriend?”

He was shocked and you didn’t blame him. The question came out of nowhere and it shocked even you. Lately, you had been really wanting to know, but swore you would never ask.

Harry leaned forward and stopped the recording. “Are we really doing this?”

“Yeah.”

He sighed and ran his hands over his face. “I know it sounds awful and that it makes me look like a complete asshole but it wasn’t my fault.”

“Harry, c’mon—“

He held his hand up. “If you want to know, you’ve got to shut up.” You didn’t say anything and so he kept going. “Yes, it was my fault because I’m responsible for my own actions and all that, but…I didn’t know what else to do. I loved her, like, really loved her but I was on tour.” He saw the look on your face. “It’s not that I couldn’t control myself, because I can, but she was so distant. Our calls and FaceTimes were getting shorter and she always said she was too busy to come visit and it felt like she just wasn’t in it anymore, you know?” You nodded. “I had a gut feeling that she was going to end things. Every time she called unexpectedly I swore I was going to be sick. It felt like it was ending, like she was through with me, but she wouldn’t say it.”

“So why not break up with her? Why cheat?”

“I knew I was going to be hurt. I loved her—I knew it was going to hurt and I couldn’t not hurt her first.”

You cringed at his words.

“I know it’s shitty.”

“Harry, that’s…it’s—“

“I know.” He ran his hands through his hair before picking up his water bottle.

“You know that’s why I stopped liking you right?”

“Because I cheated on my girlfriend? It has nothing to do with you.”

You shrugged. “I know, but it made you seem really shitty. And you were, like, all smug about it, as if it didn’t even matter. It made me not really like you as a person. And then you started being awful to me and it just sort of spiraled.”

“Do you still think I’m a shitty person?”

“I think what you did was shitty, without a doubt. It was childish and a real selfish thing to do—“

“I really hope there’s a ‘but’ coming.” He muttered.

“But part of me understands it—a very small part. That doesn’t erase the fact that you were awful to me, though.” You took a deep breath. “Okay, next.”

Harry didn’t protest to the two of you moving on and so you hit the “record” button again.

“If you had to pick one suit to wear for an entire tour, from Live On Tour, which would it be?”

He started to answer but you weren’t listening. The realization that you had been wrong about him came down hard. The whole reason your opinion of him turned sour was not only because of what he had done, but because he seemed to wash himself of all responsibility. He acted as though none of it was his fault, as if he didn’t care and like it didn’t matter, but that wasn’t the case at all.

You leaned forward and stopped the recording.

“Did I do something wrong?” His brow furrowed in concern.

“You know I don’t think you’re less than me, right?”

“What? You already apologized for that.”

“I know, but I need you to know that I really don’t think I’m better than you. Smarter than you? Definitely. Objectively better than? No.”

He shook his head and laughed lightly. “You’re never going to give up on the smart thing, are you?”

You threw your hands up in exasperation. “It’s all I have!” You gestured to him. “You’ve made it pretty clear that I’m poor, not a very talented writer apparently, and that I’m just a staff writer. My intelligence is apparently the only part of my identity I can be proud of. No offense, but it’s the one thing I have that you don’t.”

He tilted his head to the side. “I think I want to be a little offended.”

“Well, it’s not allowed so suck it up.”

He chuckled before picking up your phone and dropping it on his nightstand. When you saw him reach for the popcorn you asked what he was doing.

He placed it next to his phone before pulling back the comforter and sliding in. “I think that’s enough interviewing for the night.” He held his arms out to you. “C’mere.”

You crawled under and hesitantly moved closer to him. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into his chest and dropped his head onto yours.

“This is weird.” You muttered and felt Harry’s chest shake with a laugh. “Isn’t it?”

“A bit, yeah.” Under the covers, he tangled his legs with yours. “It’s kind of nice, though, right?”

You hoped he couldn’t feel how hot your cheeks got. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Does this mean you’ll be a bit nicer to me now?”

“I haven’t decided yet. Try asking again tomorrow.”

“What if you don’t like me tomorrow?” You could hear the apprehension in his voice.

“I don’t know.”