#none of this is romantic i must make this clear. it is all a weird evil form of platonic. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kirk-says-wah · 3 months ago

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𝐃𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐂𝐫𝐲 - 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟖

You can also read it here

Pairings: Kirk/Lars, James/Lars, James/Jason

TW: guns, violence, blood, fire, vomit, knives

Note: this is a bit of a longer chapter so I hope you enjoy it! 💕

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

The words lie thick on Lars’ tongue as he turns off the engine, glancing out onto the street.

They’ve arrived at the address on the invite, a small restaurant that looks like the kind of place you go on dates to; a romantic joint with light music and red walls.

Lars frowns, glances to the side of him.

James is squinting, his breaths coming in quick, a hand around his middle. He doesn’t look good, not at all. Maybe he should’ve pushed him to go to a hospital.

“Are you gonna be okay?” Lars asks, because yeah, he’s pretty concerned that James is gonna keel over whilst they’re in there.

James’ gaze slides to him slowly, before he blinks, shrugs.

“Let’s just get this over with.”

He’s opening the car door before Lars can say maybe we need to think about this, because the fact that they’ve got no plan is starting to dawn on Lars, and the situation is sinking in like a knife through the belly, leaving his eyes smarting and his hands shaking on the wheel.

He quickly gets out the car, resisting the urge to help James as the older man grunts, getting onto his feet.

They stand there for a moment, watching people talk and laugh and eat at the tables in the restaurant, and Lars can’t help but think it a peculiar place to have a meeting. At least it means Mustaine won’t kill them.

He hopes.

Lars just hopes he’s not walking into this blind, that James doesn’t know more than him, because he’s starting to trust James and he doesn’t want to feel slightly betrayed if he’s left in the dark.

They walk into the restaurant, James still limping, until they get to the small counter. A waiter stands behind it, a warm smile on his face.

“Have you got a reservation?” he asks, grabbing some menus.

Lars clears his throat, glancing around, though he’s not really sure what he’s looking for. He’s never seen Mustaine before. His eyes track upwards until they land on a photo frame, hung with pride a few inches away from them.

It’s a picture of a young woman, bright blonde hair cascading over her shoulders, and a little boy on her lap. Lars finds that a little weird, but he doesn’t think anything of it, turning his attention back to the waiter who’s looking at James with an edge of concern.

“We’re here to see Mustaine,” Lars answers, because he doesn’t really know how to go about this.

The waiter’s eyes narrow, his hands slipping away from the menus, and Lars feels the hostility like hands around his neck, cutting off his airway.

“Come with me,” the waiter says simply before turning, and Lars glimpses at James briefly before following.

They weave through the restaurant, past happy couples and families to the top corner by the kitchen where a long maroon curtain is drawn over the length of the remaining wall.

“Just through there,” the waiter says, though he makes no move to show them the way.

Lars nods, taking a deep breath before opening the curtain slightly and stepping in.

It’s a little darker, the lights dimmed, but there’s a table in the middle, shadowed by red hair.

Before Lars can move any further, a hand sinks into his shoulder, and he’e ushered forwards. He looks over his shoulder to see a large man pushing him, his face stern, before his legs knock against chair legs and he’s pushed down.

He lands in the chair abruptly, the hand leaving just as quickly, and he looks to the side to see James getting the same treatment, two hands pushing him down into the chair next to Lars none too gently.

Their eyes meet, and Lars wants to ask if he’s okay but keeps his mouth shut.

“Gentlemen.”

Lars’ eyes snap over the table, and he comes face to face with Mustaine. The man must be at least forty, long red hair framing his face, a short beard lining his cheeks. He’s got a dinner plate in front of him, a steak and some salad, a wine glass by his wrist.

“Mustaine,” James grits out.

Mustaine’s mouth curls upwards, eyebrows rising ever so slightly. He grabs one of the napkins in front of him, placing it in his lap as he shakes his head.

“Please, call me Dave.”

Lars’ throat feels dry, feels like he can’t even swallow, and he wants to look at James to reassure himself that he’s not doing this alone but his neck won’t move. Dave’s presence alone makes Lars want to cower, something he’s only ever really felt in the presence of his father.

“D’you like my restaurant?” Dave asks, picking up his fork. A steak knife lies next to him, glinting in the low light, and Lars can’t help it when his eyes snap to it, panic hitching the blinds open, his body laid bare. He knows they’re at Dave’s mercy here. This is Dave’s territory.

He thinks back to the picture on the wall and wonders if Dave has a family. He wonders if he’s as nice to his kids as Torben is to him.

“I just bought it,” Dave continues, before gesturing to the glasses in front of Lars and James. “Wine?”

A beat passes as Lars realises Dave is genuinely asking. It feels like a trick question, but when neither of them answer, Dave’s nostrils flare slightly, giving away the anger that lies briefly under the surface of his calm demeanour.

“I asked you a question,” Dave says, voice firm.

“Err no-… no I’m driving, thanks,” bubbles from Lars’ throat, and any attempt he was making of trying not to sound intimidated flies out the window.

Dave’s eyes flick to James, and he cocks his head, his stare tracing the bruises smattered across James’ cheeks.

“What happened to you?”

Lars can hear James’ heavy breaths over the music that’s filtering in from the main restaurant.

When James doesn’t answer, Dave makes a little huh sound before grabbing the sharp steak knife.

“You boys have been up to a lot, haven’t you?” he says, sawing at the steak on his plate, cutting it into little chunks, blood spilling over the white porcelain. “Congratulations on your marriage by the way. You make a cute couple.”

Lars doesn’t like this, he doesn’t like that Dave’s playing nice. He just knows Dave’s going to snap, knows this is all a game and he doesn’t want to play it.

When neither he or James say anything, Dave glances between them before sticking a piece of steak in his mouth, chewing on it obscenely.

“You see boys, you’ve been playing in the wrong sandpit, and I need you to give it up. You’re messing with things you don’t even know about.”

Lars’ eyebrows crease, watching as Dave plops another piece of steak in his mouth.

“First off,” he says after a moment, wiping the corner of his mouth with a napkin. “Why does Torben owe me so much?”

His eyes pin Lars and Lars feels like he’s trying to be caught out, like somehow Dave is trying to put this on him.

“Because after him begging me for help, I give him money, only for him to not pay me back? And then I find out that it’s you that’s crunching the numbers,” he says, pointing at Lars with his fork.

Lars tries to think but he wasn’t aware of anything being wrong with his accounting. He’s quite good at it, and he would’ve seen if he was writing down more income than outgoings. He would’ve know.

“So tell me, pretty boy,” Dave drawls, his fork eye level with Lars. “Where’s my money?”

Lars knows it would be one error, one overseen error and everything would’ve been messed up. But he didn’t see anything, he could’ve sworn everything he submitted was right.

“I-.. I don’t know,” Lars stammers. “I swear, I don’t know anything about it.”

Dave stares at him for a moment, sticking his fork into the meat on his plate.

“You swear to that?”

“I swear,” Lars says, his hands gripping into his thighs, panic striking through him. Why did his dad never tell him they were in money trouble with Dave? Maybe he could’ve helped.

Just one error. But he knows it wasn’t him.

“Even against your lover’s life?”

Lars swiftly looks at James, and James stares back at him, eyes curious but fearful.

Dave laughs.

“No, not James,” he says, arching an eyebrow. “You’re loverboy. What’s his name?”

What? How could Dave possibly know about Kirk? Lars doesn’t know how to answer, he doesn’t want Kirk to be any part of this.

He watches Dave’s knife lift.

“I asked you a question.”

“Kirk,” Lars squeaks, his cheeks aflame.

“Mhm yeah that’s right,” Dave says, going back to cutting up his steak. “Curly hair, fucked up teeth. Why’d you think he’d be a better fit than our boy Hetfield here?”

James shifts next to Lars. Lars’ eyes sting.

“You love him don’t you?” It’s said with mirth, like Dave is making fun of him, and Lars can’t help but avert his eyes, finding the pristine tablecloth suddenly interesting.

“Speaking of love,” Dave says, chewing on his food. “James, you need to keep your hands to yourself. You’re getting involved with the wrong family.”

“You killed my mom,” James spits abruptly, jaw clenched.

What the fuck? This obviously goes deeper than Lars had realised, obviously more to the story.

James’s outburst catches Lars by surprise, and he flicks his eyes to James, takes in the flush over his cheekbones and the sweat gathering on his forehead.

Dave stops eating, his eyes widening slightly, a weird expression filtering over his face.

“Is that what your father told you?” he voice is inquisitive, sly.

James keeps quiet, fists clenched at his sides, and Lars has to resist putting a hand on his leg to calm him down.

Dave sighs heavily, continuing to chew on his steak.

“Well no, she was… what do they call it? Wrong place, wrong time? It’s not that bitch that fire was meant to kill.”

Lars doesn’t know how to process this new information, can feel James practically vibrate with anger next to him. He never knew anything about James’ mom, it’s something he hadn’t had time to ask about.

Dave grabs his wine glass, taking a swig.

“Anyway,” he continues, “what I was saying is Jason is too good for you.” He looks straight at James. “I’ve got big plans for him. I don’t need someone with a vendetta getting in the way.”

A flurry of emotion from the curtain catches Lars’ attention, and he turns to see the waiter from before.

“Mr Mustaine,” he says, nervous-like. “There’s a call for Mr Ulrich.”

Dave makes a surprised noise, and Lars just looks between them, utterly confused. Who would be calling him? And who would know he was here?

“Go,” Dave says with a flick of his wrist. “I’ll give you three minutes.”

Lars swallows thickly, standing upwards gingerly, unsure if he’s going to be manhandled again.

When no one touches him, he swiftly follows the waiter back into the main room towards the phone. He feels bad leaving James alone, but he’s sure James will be able to stand his ground.

He’s handed the phone, and he turns his back to the waiter, facing the wall, the cord twisting around his finger.

“Hello?”

“Lars?”

Trepidation makes Lars’ breath shudder, and he clutches the phone tighter.

“Kirk?”

Of course Kirk knew they would be here, but why is he calling?

“I need you.”

Lars frowns, leaning against the wall when his legs start to feel numb.

“Where are you?”

“I’m in the hospital,” Kirk replies, sounding a little winded.

“What? What do you mean? What happened?”

“Some guy drove into the back of me. I just-… I need you to come. I don’t-…”

Kirk doesn’t finish his sentence but Lars already knows what he means. He doesn’t want to be alone. Worry makes Lars’ teeth start to chatter, or maybe it’s the adrenaline.

“I’ll come as soon as I can,” he says, but before he can say anything else, a finger presses down on the receiver button, ending the call.

“Times up,” the waiter says, grabbing the phone out of Lars’ slack grip. Lars doesn’t even have time to comprehend what just happened before he’s being escorted back behind the curtain, only to see blood, and lots of it.

James has got a napkin pressed to his nose, blood dripping between his fingers. He looks at Lars, pain making his pupils dilate.

“Don’t worry about him,” Dave says, before Lars can even open his mouth. He’s quickly sat back in his seat, careful of the blood standing the tablecloth. “It’s not easy to knock any sense into that thick skull of his.”

Lars feels a well of anger snake up his tongue, and before he can think about it, he’s speaking, not thinking of the consequences.

“How do you know about Kirk?”

Dave’s tongue skims over his teeth, the wine glass stem sliding between his fingers.

“Jason told me.”

“You leave him alone,” James growls, though it’s slightly muffled behind the tablecloth.

“He can take it,” Dave shrugs, leaning back into his chair, putting his glasses down. “I’m cold but I’m not heartless. I only kill who need to be killed. Like you,” he says, pointing his knife at Lars.

Lars’ heart thrums in his ears, the knife already penetrating the thick barrier he’s put up to try and save himself. But it all comes down to this. Dave could kill him if he wanted to.

“What’s to say I’ll let you go and you don’t go running off to neverland together?” Dave says, twisting the knife in the air. “I don’t need anyone trying to catch me out. I already have a hit out on your father if this deal doesn’t go the way I was promised.”

Lars gulps, glancing at James’ quickly, registering the panic in them.

“I wanna show you something,” Dave says, sitting forwards. “Put your hand on the table.”

Lars desperately doesn’t want to, but he feels like he doesn’t have a choice, the pressure mounting as Dave stares at him.

Lars trembles, puts his hand flat on the table.

Before he has time for reflex to kick in and pull his hand back, the steak knife is whacked down into the top knuckle of his ring finger. He cries out, body bucking as pain spasms up his wrist and into his arm, his arm seizing as blood gushes all over the table.

Dave laughs at his reaction, wiggling the knife down until the top of Lars’ finger falls off. Lars heaves, inky spots blurring his vision as he fights for breath, pulling his hand toward himself, tears pooling in his eyes.

A hand lands on his thigh, squeezing just above the knee, and Lars tries to focus on it, blinking his eyes rapidly. He’s not too sure how, but quickly a napkin is wrapped around his finger, and he looks over to see James’ holding it there with his other hand.

Dave leans forwards, eyes menacing.

“Me and Virgil agreed a long time ago to keep out of each other’s way,” he says, voice low and scathing.

“But Virgil’s broken his word.”

“We’re married aren’t we?” James exclaims, but Dave growls.

“It’s not that deal he’s broken. And it’s your fucking fault. Virgil put his fucking filthy hands on Jason before he gave him back.”

So Virgil must have beat Jason before giving him back to Dave. But surely he would’ve known that was going to upset him? Lars feels confused, the pain searing his nerve endings, his eyes landing on the end of his finger lying on the table.

“I was holding back before, staying out of this, trying to make peace,” Dave says, leaning back again, looking between the both of them. “But I’m sick and tired of fucking being in the middle and not being able to do a fucking thing.”

Lars sucks in a breath through his nose, tries to think of what Dave’s saying.

“This is your last warning. Back off,” Dave says, wiping his hands on his own napkin. “You don’t listen? You’re dead. And don’t think I won’t kill you slowly.”

A hand fists in Lars’ hair and he pulled upwards until he’s on his feet by the man from before.

“Now get out. I don’t want to see either of you again.”

And with that, they’re pushed out, though this time through the kitchen. Dave probably doesn’t want everyone in the restaurant seeing all the blood. James is stumbling, hardly keeping up, crusted blood all over his face.

When they finally make it into the fresh air, when finally they’re free, Lars trips, throws up all over there ground.

He spews mostly bile after not eating anything all day, his head pulsing, until he’s done, spitting on the floor.

When he looks up, James is staring back at him, face abnormally pale, cheek slick with sweat, his hair sticking to his face.

“I don’t-“ James hiccups, swaying. “I don’t feel so good.”

Lars moves quickly, grabbing James before he can fall, even though it jolts his finger.

“It’s okay,” he says, slips his good hand around James’ waist, urging him back to the car. “We’re going to the hospital.”

“We can’t,” James breathes, his legs hardly cooperative as they wobble to the car.

“Kirk’s there,” Lars says, unlocking the car before opening the passenger door. “Something’s happened to him.”

He pushes James’ heavy frame into the seat, apologising when James flinches, his breathing speeding up.

“Kirk’s there?” James mumbles, leaning his head back against the headrest, closing his eyes. Lars has to stop himself from moving the hair from his face. It’s far too intimate, and he already feels guilty for the kiss.

Fuck, he feels so confused.

He closes the door before climbing into the driver’s side, wonders how he’s going to get anywhere when his finger is throbbing.

He just needs to get to Kirk. He needs to know he’s okay. He sounded okay on the phone, if not a little shaken, but Lars really doesn’t want anyone else to be hurt today.

Maybe going to the hospital is a good idea anyway. James definitely looks like he needs it.

Maybe they’re putting themselves in harm’s way by going somewhere so public.

It’s a risk he’s willing to take. He just needs to make sure Kirk’s okay and that James gets seen to. And yeah, maybe they can look at his finger too.

He sucks in a breath, leans forwards to press his forehead into the wheel.

He just needs to regroup, figure out a way to get out of this.

Dave’s threat rings in his ears. The need to throw up burns his throat.

He smooths his hands over the wheel before sitting up, looking over to James.

James has still got his eyes closed, throat moving, a hand around his waist, much similar to the way he looked when they first arrived, if not for the blood all down his front.

Lars just wants to go home. He wants this to be over.

He turns the engine on and pulls out.

#metallica fanfiction #asks #kirk/lars #james/lars #james/jason #kirk hammett x lars ulrich #kirk hammett/lars ulrich #james hetfield x lars ulrich #james hetfield/lars ulrich #james hetfield x jason newsted #james hetfield/jason newsted #metallica fic

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gittetj · 2 years ago

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-CHAPTER 16 OF THE END OF THE WORLD SPOILERS - NOT SURE IF IT'S NECESSARY BUT IT JUST FEELS RIGHT-

I feel like there are others curious about this as well, but what was your thought process behind the kiss scene? Did you think of it when you were just planning out the story or did it come up later? Did the idea surprise/terrify you at first? (i'm beginning to sound like i'm obsessed with it but it's just the last thing i expected of the fic so it delights me endlessly lol) It would actually be cool to know more about the trials and tribulations of how the writing process for the whole chapter went, so if you're willing to share, pleaseee?

(also a random one, but how old is ootsuki?)

Ootsuki is 23. I'll put the rest under the cut~

The kiss was actually something I decided on very early and then debated whether I should get rid of a million times, because yeah, it's out of my comfort zone to write about teenage (non-)romance, and it's so at risk of being taken the wrong way in several different ways. If I hadn't had 3 people with very different perspectives beta-read it and tell me they got what I was going for, I probably would've found some lame way to chicken out of it.

Anyway, the reason I decided to go down that route was that I have a rule that every canon scene with Shou must go in the fic. By no means do you have to make adaptations that way, and there are things later on I'll twist a bit, but I like rules and challenges, so there.

This meant I had to do something with that fucking maid café scene, which, let's be frank, is very gay. It's a weak joke and has no purpose other than to be gay fan service. So what can you do with that? I could either pretend it isn't gay and didn't happen (glaring at ONE here), I could lean into it and make it the start of something romantic, which would derail the themes of this particular story, or I could use it to support my points about all manner of relationships often being weird and difficult and full of mistakes that are sometimes forgivable and sometimes not.

Shou and Ritsu try to figure out if it's a big deal to kiss someone, but there are other more or less explicitly romantic-leaning relationships in this fic, none of which feature any kissing, and meanwhile the person who is the most blatantly physically affectionate with Shou is so in a way that's 100% platonic, and meanwhile, I've given Shou very strange reactions to multiple of the grown-ups in his life which, on a surface-level, you'll often find in fanfic/young adult fiction as cues that something romantic is going on (blushing, stuttering, general awkwardness) although I sincerely hope it's clear that's not where I'm going with that either. I don't know, I just find it very interesting to dig my claws into that whole mess.

But you asked about the writing process, and it wasn't really the kiss that forced me to rewrite chapter 16 like 8 times, but rather that A) I knew Okura had to be in the chapter, but wasn't sure how to use him, and B) I had to construct a scenario where Ritsu would not flip the fuck out and never talk to Shou again after being told about the burning dummy corpses. (Also a lot of other things I don't remember anymore since some of those rewrites happened long ago)

When you have long chapters like this, if you want it to feel cohesive and avoid mood whiplash, you have to pick one high tension point that everything else can build up to. In this one, I wanted the kiss to be that point, which was really fucking difficult with so much other drama happening around it. I don't have enough experience with writing to have a great feel for these things when I have to write them myself, so it was a loop of trying one approach, asking someone, "does it work now?", them saying no and making some suggestions, rinse and repeat.

#the end of the world as you know it #replies

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voxiiferous · 2 years ago

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That makes sense he supposes, he tends to initiate a lot of their encounters. If he sees Alastor, he's going to poke the bear... or the tentacle as the case may be. It's fun, it's a distraction, no politics or business or Valentino and his changeable moods. "You've gotta be kidding. He'd give the win to me? That's fantastic. It's gotta be harder now than it was." The city connects all the way back to him-- televisions in display windows, phones in every pocket, street lamps. And Alastor must hate it.

He taps out an old song, one of the romantic swing songs of the age. "Just like a dance; dip, spin, a bit of footwork just to keep everyone watching." For a moment, the visual changes from a fight to a dance proper, a look of joy at a properly executed lift. Through his speakers, the big band sounds, echoing and tinny like a memory, before he stops it. Fuck that's embarrassing. He makes a sound like clearing his throat.

No, no this is safe conversation. Well, he amends in the safety of his own mind, it's not. None of this is safe. But safer? Something like that. He lifts a hand to his chest and laughs. "So generous letting me stay alive, profit off all my hard work." He lifts an eye. "Valentino's the martian? Why? You were created here-- how do you even know about Mars or the specific nomenclature for pop cultural aliens from there?"

"You're not wrong, but it would make him a Hell of a lot easier to quantify he he claimed anything other than a few souls and the airwaves." In truth, Vox had given up hope of Alastor actually claiming the deserved title decades ago, and counted it towards the Radio Demon's many and varied eccentricities. Inconvenient, but that's a given with Alastor. It makes him more unpredictable which he suspects is exactly what he wants.

He lets out a groan, letting his head come back, and leaning it against a hand propped on the armrest. "He'd better." He laughs at the idea of Alastor's reaction to the music-- Astor was probably right, he'd be surprised if he didn't have a role to play in it, as the face of the new and improved in Hell, music and all. "It's good to know that you, at least have better taste than him."

He lifts an eye, grimacing at the thought. "No, no I'll let the shadow stay that alone. I don't need that stress, mild curiosity of what they'd be like aside." He follows Astor with his eye, tapping his foot for a moment, not bored just... filling time, doing something with his body. "I always preferred coffee." He admits. "I never understood the appeal of tea-- if not that, what do you like?"

Vox lets out a displeased hum. While it came after him time, he had, in fact, watched it, one of the weird nights when it had been he and Velvette, Dia, and Hellaina, all just exhausted and draped on the couch, pinned under Vark. "Please don't insult me like that. He's the loveable buffoon type, I'd make for a much better Velma."The comedy of a Scooby Doo trap for Astor isn't lost on him however, especially when it's the two of them. "You have it backward. I'd be the man in the mask-- getting away with it if it weren't for the fact..." he shrugs, arms spread wide. "I did get away with it."

"But that's actually a good idea. Much more modern, and less likely to end with my booby-trapping my own apartment against me."

"Now isn't that just adorable? I didn't know Alastor had a soft bone in his body, but I guess you're special."

He shakes his head, and points at the kitchen. "Just because you can eat something doesn't make it food. No one in their right mind should eat a Voot Floop, but here we are. Do you have any idea how many chemicals are in them? Some of those weird health foods? The 'marshmallow' isn't food." And now, it's a matter of pride, he's dying on this hill, digging his heels in. "You wouldn't, you absolute menace."

#shadowofthehost #*filming schedule (rp)

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chaotic-carnifex · 4 years ago

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You know, if I had to describe my experience as an aromantic in one word, I think I’d go with “alienating”. Let me explain:

Imagine you’re aro and watching TV. There some kind of SciFi show on and they are debating the personhood of an AI.

The AI shows curiosity and a thirst for knowledge. They have desires. They have strengths and weaknesses. None of this convinces the doubters.

The AI makes friends. They take up hobbies. They talk about their hopes and dreams for the future. Surely this is enough to relate to them as a person? It’s not.

The AI is shown to fall in love. This is framed as the ultimate proof, the one thing that must humanize them even to the staunchest denier of their personhood or else that person is irredeemable.

You change the channel.

There’s a children’s cartoon on. “What is this?!” the villain cries, pointing at a couple. Their inability to understand the romantic love between those two is framed as stemming from the fact that somebody so deeply evil simply cannot understand something as pure and good as romantic love.

You change the channel.

There’s a sitcom on. Two characters are discussing a third character. “He’s really not that weird,” says one character. “He hasn’t been in a relationship for [x] years!” the other refutes. Cue the laugh track. The implication is clear: If he’s not in a relationship, it must be because he’s too weird.

You change the channel.

There’s a Christmas movie on. The main character is a successful businesswoman. She’s shown talking to her friends and family regularly. “You need a man,” her mother says as they bake together. The daughter denies this. The rest of the movie is all about proving the mother right, as suddenly her career, her friends and her family are framed as not being enough for her to lead a fulfilling life.

You change the channel.

It’s some show aimed at young teens and tweens. “Ew,” one character comments as the idea of them having a significant other one day is brought up. This is treated as a sign of their immaturity.

You turn off the TV.

Your experiences aren’t enough to humanize a non-human character. You’re the villain. You’re a weirdo. Your life is incomplete. You’re immature.

You’re tired.

There’s a reason it was an aro who coined the term voidpunk.

#aro #aromantic #asaw2021 #voidpunk #None of these are extraordinary or extreme situations #None of this could only happen under very specific circumstances #None of this requires me to be out as aro #None of this is rare #None of this comes with a warning #but All of it is really fucking alienating #happy fucking ASAW #I am not broken or immature or evil or incomplete but goddamn it am I tired #edit: maybe if I tag this post as alloaro ppl will stop assuming I'm aroace?#alloaro

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watchmegetobsessed · 3 years ago

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THE DEAL

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

pairing: Harry X Reader

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

word count: 11.8k

masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you broke that rule.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Have you tried it?”

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

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

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

“You know I never do that!”

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

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

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

“Alright. And we can end it anytime?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Um, whose is this?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No! I’m… I just—We…”

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

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

“When I couldn’t go, right?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shit!” you curse under your breath.

“What?” Harry asks, pausing the show.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I mean… you’re not wrong,” you sigh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You motherfu—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Obviously,” you scoff.

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

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

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

“Girl, you are totally dating Harry.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, thank you!” you chuckle softly.

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

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

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

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

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

“Thought you went for a refill?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then he finally breaks his silence.

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

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

“No, take that back!” you whine.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But why does it hurt so badly then?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not mad at the whole world!”

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

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

“Who else then?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course.”

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

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

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

“Yes,” you whisper truthfully.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Girlfriend?” he asks quietly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Absolutely.”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

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simplysimpingsimp · 3 years ago

Note

Lmao here I am again requesting something. I love your writing and I was wondering if I could request (another) Inosuke x Male Reader scenario where someone is hitting on the reader? Perhaps the reader doesn’t even notice the flirting? You can decide! Thank you for your writing! Continue to be awesome!

Hiiiii !! Omg thank you so much for requesting again <3 I really appreciate and love that you’ve sent in another request :D this is such a funny and yet cute scenario especially because of how Inosuke is probably a jealous type but in a wholesome way ! Please enjoy and I’m sorry if I didn’t meet your expectations T^T!!

🌲—————————————————————🌲

🌲Strike 1,2,3

Inosuke x Male!Reader

Pronouns: he/him

TW: none !

🌲—————————————————————🌲

Inosuke had been following his beloved around a local village with a grimace on his face hidden by his boar mask. While it’s not that he didn’t want to be there, he simply did NOT want to be there.

Though it made his heart flutter to see the happy expression on his face, it made him feel a certain rage when women and even men would approach Y/n with what Inosuke interpreted as wanting to steal him away.

Inosuke would huff at the sight of Y/n simply talking it off like they weren’t trying anything. From the view of his innocent smile, it was more than clear that it was going over his head.

“Thank you so much for the welcoming,” the e/c eyed young man spoke sweetly to the young woman who had approached him, “It was nice to meet you.”

The young woman practically skipped away with a glittery aura and a bright blush on her cheeks.

“Wasn’t she sweet,” he mused sweetly as he held onto Inosuke’s arm, holding him close.

Inosuke scoffed as his face warmed at the feeling of his beloved holding onto him. The giddy feeling building up in his chest at the very notion of being touched by the one he revered as some sort of love angel.

“Is something wrong?” He questioned with curious eyes as he looked at the deep blue of the boar mask’s eyes.

“N-No!” Inosuke practically yelled, earning the attention of others on the street.

He hummed, ignoring the eyesight of onlookers, “There there,” he gently patted the smooth pelt of his boar mask earning a soft satisfied sound from Inosuke.

A young woman approached the pair with a certain sway in her walk. She was dressed in a gentle blue floral kimono with her dark hair down and flowing. Her eyes held a sultry look in the direction of Y/n that Inosuke couldn’t explain effectively but it made him angry. Her lips were curved in a smirk and painted a soft pink.

She practically pushed past Inosuke, and wrapped her arm around his beloved.

That was strike 1 for Inosuke. He clenched his fists, holding in the urge to pig assault and head butt her into space.

How dare she try to touch the God of Love and have the audacity to not acknowledge the great presence of the Lord of the Mountain?!

“No one ever told me that we would be having a handsome demon slayer stopping by,” her voice was elegant and smooth like a dark wine, her fingers elegantly caressing his face.

The obliviousness that was Y/n could only smile as he took a step away, gently prying off the woman, “We’re just dropping by to make sure everything is all clear here! And to get something to eat.”

She let out a soft giggle, her eyes half lidded as she maintained a smokey stare on Y/n.

Strike 2. Inosuke’s blood was beginning to truly boil at the sight of the woman caressing his beloved. He was comparing the scene internally to the memory of how wolves would approach adorable rabbits and devour them before they even had a chance to escape.

He watched the way the woman would cling onto Y/n, her temptress ways were completely flying over his head as the young man had an innocent smile on his face.

“It must be so difficult to be on the road,” she spoke softly, “Especially with that,” her sight traveled to Inosuke.

Strike 3. That was it for the feral boar young man.

“Get off him you hag or I swear I’ll rip your breasts off!!” He yelled as he practically shoved her off of him.

Before Y/n could speak, Inosuke had thrown him over his shoulder and ran off as if Muzan was chasing behind him.

“I-I-Inosuke pu-put me do-o-own,” Y/n yelled with an embarrassed blush on his cheeks. He spoke as best he could as Inosuke’s running and grip on his body was making it difficult for him to express himself.

Inosuke ran into the nearest forest, his panting sounding feral and wild. He set him down. With full sight of him, y/n witnessed steam being ejected from the nostrils of the snout of his mask.

Inosuke removed his mask, setting his mask down on the ground. A face of anger shown by the way his eyebrows were furrowed and his beautiful large eyes narrowed. His lips in the form of a scowl as he looked at Y/n’s confused expression.

“What is the matter wi-“ before he could finish his sentence Inosuke grabbed him by his shoulders, pulled him in and smashed his lips onto his. Their teeth clanked together but Inosuke could care less. He was still learning what different modes of affection were and all he could think to do was plant his lips on his just as Y/n had explained to him that it was an action of romantic love and affection.

It caught Y/n by surprise, but he gave in anyway. His arms wrapped around his neck, as he melted into the kiss. Inosuke’s body tensed beneath his touch, a clear sign that he didn’t know what to do next.

He pulled away, a scowl-like smirk on his face, “There now that hag won’t ever put her filthy hands onto you again,” his voice was proud and mighty as his arms wrapped around his beloved’s form tightly, “No one will ever flurth with you again or I’ll fight them, I swear!”

“There there Inosu- wait did you say flurth? Do you mean flirt?”

“Yeah! Monjiro and Monitsu explained to me what flurthing was and what’s called!” He yelled as his body became warm.

Y/n stifled a laugh, “It’s flirt, my love,” he laughed, “Fl-ir-t,” he sounded out.

“It’s flurthing now! I, the great lord Inosuke, am never wrong!” He huffed.

He laughed softly, gently kissing his cheek, “I thought she was just being really weird and touchy because I thought maybe the village was the comfortable with each other. Completely went over my head,” he smiled lightly at Inosuke.

E/c pools meeting the beautiful lime like color that was his irises.

Y/n’s hand gently found its way to Inosuke’s cheek, fingers gently caressing the soft skin of his delicate features.

Inosuke placed his hand over his, “I don’t want anyone ever taking you away! You’re mine and mine alone,” he had a shy smile on his face as his fingers caressed the soft skin of Y/n’s hands.

“I wouldn’t want it any other way,” he smiled at the feral boar man.

His e/c eyes were glimmering with happiness and love. The very sight of his gaze made Inosuke’s heart flutter and the giddy feeling he adored and wanted more of build in his chest. His own green irises were shining beautifully with love.

Y/n lightly pecked his lips, before Inosuke pulled him back into a gentler kiss. His kiss felt deep and unsure in the sense that he was still learning and continuously improving. A warm blush dominated their cheeks as they pulled away, Inosuke pulling him into a tight hug again.

His embrace was sweet and adorable as he had finally gotten the hang of how to hug better. His hands gently petting Y/n’s h/c colored hair the way he would do to him, earning a soft laugh from him.

“I love you and only you, Inosuke.”

“I love you and only you too.”

ᴇɴᴅ

🌲—————————————————————🌲

ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ sᴏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ғᴏʀ ʀᴇǫᴜᴇsᴛɪɴɢ <3 ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ

ғᴇᴇʟ ғʀᴇᴇ ᴛᴏ ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ ɪᴅᴇᴀs/ʀᴇǫᴜᴇsᴛs/ᴀsᴋ/ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ!

sᴇᴇ ʏᴀʟʟ sᴏᴏɴ <3

#inosuke x male reader #kimetsu inosuke #inosuke x y/n #inosuke hashibira #inosuke x reader #demon slayer inosuke #kny inosuke #inosuke x you #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #anime x reader #demon slayer #kny #fluff #reader insert #kimetsu no yaiba

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pulchrasilva · 2 years ago

Text

Vine

Fandom: Roleslaying with Roman

Relationships: platonic or romantic Royo/Youngman

Characters: just Roman and Youngblood

Summary: When Roman said he wanted to introduce him to Reston’s vines, Youngblood didn’t exactly have many ideas about what that might mean. This was not one of them.

(It's exactly what it says on the tin)

Word Count: 1464

Warnings: none that I know of

Notes: based on this headcanon

Read on AO3 // My Masterpost

When Roman said he wanted to introduce him to Reston’s vines, Youngblood didn’t exactly have many ideas about what that might mean. This was not one of them.

“This,” he said gesturing to a perfectly ordinary tree, “is the Do I Look vine.”

Youngblood raised an eyebrow. “The what?”

“The Do I Look vine!” Roman beamed.

“Uh alright. What does that mean?”

“I discovered this one when I was a kid. Listen!” Then, of all things, he put on an exaggerated baby voice and said, “daddy?”

And the tree shifted. No, not the tree – one of the vines wrapped around it. The vine lifted until it was right in Roman’s face. The tip opened up into what looked bizarrely like a mouth. And then:

“DO I LOOK LIKE-”

Youngblood shrieked and sprang backwards. “What the- what the hell was that? It spoke!”

But Roman didn’t even seem concerned. “It’s the Do I Look vine!” he chirped as the vine drifted downwards and wrapped back around the tree trunk, once again a perfectly normal plant.

“Vines aren’t meant to speak!”

“Really?” Roman asked, as if that was a reasonable question. “Vines don’t speak in the rest of the world?”

“No!”

“That’s so weird!”

That was weird? That? Youngblood was going to scream.

“They must be so boring,” Roman continued. “I love the vines! Come, listen to this one!”

Roman grabbed his hand and Youngblood could only stumble along behind him, head still reeling, until they reached a new tree.

This time, Roman yelled at it, loud enough that Youngblood and the vine jumped.

“AH! Stop!” the vine said angrily. “I could have dropped my croissant.”

Roman was in stitches. And, Youngblood had to admit, it was pretty funny.

“Why-” he cut himself off to stifle a giggle. “Why would vines even know what a croissant is?”

“Oh Burgundy makes croissants for everyone!”

“Even the plants?”

“Of course! They need to eat too!”

“You people are so weird,” Youngblood muttered, but he was smiling.

Roman grinned.

“Do all of the vines speak?”

“Most of them. And you don’t need to say anything to activate most of them either, look!”

He prodded at a vine, and it rose up at the contact. Unfamiliar music emanated from the tree trunk. This time, when the vine opened it’s mouth, a melody came out.

“I heard that you were talking shit and you didn’t think that I would hear it.”

Youngblood gaped. “In all of Reston, only the vines know what singing is?”

“This is singing too?” Roman gasped, excited. “It has words! I didn’t know you could sing with words!”

“Yeah, yeah you can.” Youngblood couldn’t decide if this was sad or adorable.

“Can you sing this one for me?”

“Uh… sure,” he cleared his throat. “I heard that you were talking shit and you didn’t think that I would hear it.”

Roman’s laughter was bright, full of sunshine. “That’s amazing!”

Youngblood’s face heated, and he ducked his head. “Come on, show me some more of these things.”

Hours went by as they explored the woods together. There were just so many of these vines. All kinds of bizarre sentences spewed from the magical plants, each one unpredictable and bizarre.

When Roman said, “story time!” a vine slipped down from a branch to reply dramatically, “no matter how fast he ran he could not escape the demon, but he would not let his soul be taken today!”

A second vine dropped down out of nowhere, opened its mouth, and screamed.

When Youngblood prodded at another, it told him, “You got this, Travis. Make ‘em wait for it- boom.”

He double over with laughter. It took him several seconds, but eventually he managed to ask, “Who- who the hell is Travis.”

“I have no idea!” Roman said, delighted. “There’s never been anyone in Reston with that name, I’ve asked!”

“Where did it get that name from then? Did it make it up?”

“I guess!”

Then Youngblood was wheezing again, and it didn’t take long for Roman to join him. They stumbled deeper into the forest together, laughter light in the air.

“Okay, take a look at this one.”

The vine twisted in irritated circles as it announced, “I said ‘whoever threw that paper, your mum’s a hoe’.”

“What does that- what does that even-?”

Youngblood couldn’t even speak, he was laughing so hard. But Roman knew what he was trying to ask.

Roman just shook his head, managing to mouth through his laughter, “I don’t know!”

Youngblood flicked at another vine, watching as it lifted.

“Alright, let’s tell each other a secret, about ourselves. I’m gonna go first,” it said, gesturing towards the tree it hung from like a person might gesture to themself. “I hate you.”

Roman burst into giggles again and Youngblood grinned at him. This was fun!

“What does this one say?” he asked, batting at the vine before he could get a response.

“If there are any spirits here tonight,” the vine said, dramatically, “tell me: does this sound like Shakira? LELELOLE-”

Throwing his head back, Roman cackled. “I’ve never heard that one before!”

“You mean there are some you don’t know?”

“Yeah, I don’t know most of the ones around here I don’t think. This is, uh, further from Reston than I’d usually go.”

“Come on, then,” Youngblood said, grabbing his hand. “We can discover them together! Try this one.”

Roman reached towards the one he’d pointed at. Before he could even touch it, it perked up.

“Don’t tell your mother,” it sang, making Roman’s whole face light up hearing at another song.

A vine by Youngblood’s feet lifted to respond, “kiss one another.”

“DIE FOR EACH OTHER!”

“OH what the-” Roman fell over his own feet, landing on his butt.

Youngblood snickered as he helped him up.

“I wasn’t expecting that!”

“No, you clearly weren’t,” Youngblood replied, barely keeping the amusement out of his voice.

Roman pouted at him. “Okay, well, you can do the next one.”

“Alright then,” he chose a vine at random and poked it.

There was a long pause, and Youngblood began to wonder whether this was just an ordinary vine.

Then: “Adam.”

His shoulders shook with laughter. “What?”

“My turn, my turn!” Roman batted at a new vine.

This one spoke in a dangerous voice. “I will have your head…”

“Uh, Youngblood?” Roman said nervously. “The vine is threatening m-”

“OF lettuce, because you grow the freshest of greens!” The vine giggled. “Crispy!”

“Oh. Oh. Oh, that one was nice.”

Youngblood cackled, flailing enough that he accidently hit the loop of a vine hanging near his head.

Suddenly, they sprang up all around him, speaking urgently over each other.

“Password must contain a capital letter and five numbers.”

“Three question marks.”

They were surrounding him, he couldn’t get away from them.

“The poop emoji.”

“The name of your firstborn son.”

And they just kept going and going, enough that it became overwhelming.

“Two Greek letters.”

“The Batman symbol.”

“Don’t worry, Youngblood!” he heard Roman shout over the racket. “I’ll save you!”

The vines were beaten back by the flat of a sword until finally Roman was there, hand outstretched to pull him from the swarm. Together they ran, Roman tugging him along.

“Um, thanks,” Youngblood said awkwardly once they were finally far enough away that he couldn’t hear the vines anymore.

Roman collapsed into a heap on the ground. “You’re welcome!” he chirped.

They’d made their way into a small clearing. The ground was dappled with shadow, the trees providing them with shelter even while giving them space. The grass shimmered slightly as it waved in the wind, bright and untamed.

The whole place was magical – even without any talking plants.

Youngblood sat down beside Roman. His whole torso ached from laughing so hard for so long, but he didn’t mind.

“It’s nice, here. In Reston, I mean.”

“Yeah, I guess it is.”

“I’m glad you brought me here.”

Roman beamed. “Me too.” His smile faltered slightly and he ran his hand over the stalks of grass, bashful. “Thank you, for agreeing to take me with you when you leave,” he said, voice earnest. “I know that you’d probably prefer to travel alone, so-”

“You know,” Youngblood interrupted, nudging him gently in the side. “I think I might like the company after all.”

“Really?”

“Yeah really.”

The joy on Roman’s face was so strong that Youngblood had to look away.

For a long time they were silent. It was quiet, save for the usual forest ambience, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was nice. Youngblood really wouldn’t mind Roman accompanying him, if it meant he got to experience more days like this.

Then the moment shattered.

“TWO BROS SITTING IN A HOT TUB, FIVE FEET APART ‘CAUSE THEY’RE NOT GAY!”

#roleslaying with roman #roman of reston #rswr youngblood #rswr roman #roleslaying with roman fanfiction #crack #fluff #memes #apex eclipse

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rsmrymnt-tea · 2 years ago

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Thats so funny because I only dont care for lesson 16 and the lessons around it because i felt the resolution was a bit rushed in terms of everyone just suddenly being lovey dovey with MC cuz theyre descended of lilith. I would love to hear your thoughts on this when you get the chance!

honestly i WISH i were apathetic about lesson 16... but as a person being apathetic about something is impossible (sadly... it would bring me so much more peace if i could just not care) and so i do have a lot of thoughts about lesson 16? like bestie you've just unlocked a long long rant that's gonna be hidden under the cut

because it is just sooo absurd to me that that was somehow the best idea that the writers came up with, and the execution ended being so rushed and poorly written that it managed to make so many people think that the brothers only love mc and/or only started being open with mc about how much they adore them because of the lilith reveal. it's very much not like that at all (i have arguments for every single one of them tbh) but the way lesson 16 was written + some of the handling of some of the brothers' relationship to mc before that definitely makes more than understandable to me that people would think so.

so like, firstly i think that yeah, the resolution is so rushed and weirdly written. i think at the end of lesson 16, belphie should not be so immediately buddy-buddy with mc and there should've been dialogue from ALL the brothers that they're glad that MC is fine and isn't actually dead. the mammon favoritism from the writers kills me here—levi and beel should've said something about being worried to death and i won't take any other opinion on it! they've been close to mc and have had pacts with them for much longer than asmo and satan!! i can't even agree that asmo and satan wouldn't have been concerned because they were definitely worried when mc was sent back in time (as shown in lesson 12), and that is just a few hours away from the events of lesson 16.

not to mention, just a few hours before (technically after, but never got the chance to happen in the new timeline) they were called family—there is just no way that none of them are greatly relieved that mc is fine (because those feelings are there even if they're never said), and it's not enough that they're showing it through coddling them during that stupid scene where diavolo drops that 'there must be so much they've wanted to do for lilith' line.

in fact that line is another major issue i have with lesson 16—why did the writers think it was a good idea have that said? it just adds more to the 'oh they only love mc bc they're related to lilith' thing, and in a game where y'know, the goal is to kiss and fuck these guys, it's very weird and off putting.

(inb4 someone brings up that mc wouldn't have any blood relation to lilith and the brothers + it's been millennia (probably; but parts of canon imply that it's been like, just 200 years ago) since then so it's fine. idk but my inclination to fuck someone who drop super low if i thought/knew they associate me with being related to their sister, and it's also a little weird if they're thinking of their sister when they're with me—which isn't the case at all because the brothers very much love you outside of your lilith relation, but the handling of lesson 16 really makes it seem like youre now someone to project their affections for their long dead sister on sdgjkg especially with belphie being the only one to openly say that he doesn't like you purely bc you're related to lilith and that weird scene where lucifer's reminded of holding hands with his sister while he's holding hands with you at a carnival? such a baffling thing to make him say, writers. whatever blush i'd have would immediately drain from my face.)

i also think it's a fault of the writers that there is very, very little clear romantic attraction from the brothers to mc before the revelation. as far as i know, only mammon's been anything transparent + there's hints from lucifer and satan in lesson 12; i personally wouldnt count the time everyone was stuck in an otome because theyre were obligated to do all that or else they wouldnt be leaving the game and it was clear that they're all just saying those words to literally get points. they all make fun of mammon for having a crush on mc which sends the message that none of them are interested. while there is a huge, huge timeskip of what's apparently 10 whole months between the end of lesson 18 and the start of lesson 19, the fact that we don't get to see that development of feelings makes it feel even more like the revelation had something to do with the rest of the brothers catching feelings :/

then there's like, all the other issues i have with lesson 16 which have honestly become inspiration for dola's vitriol towards diavolo. it makes it so that all the of the heartwarming moments that mc experiences with the brothers never happened. all those little one-on-ones with the brothers when mc come back to the HoL with beel after belphie's arrested? never happened. all of them working together to get lucifer out so they can actually talk? never happened. and neither did that talk where lucifer himself tells everyone what really happened to lilith or why he's so loyal to diavolo, or the moment where mc is called family? erased. lucifer proving to diavolo and all his brothers that he cares more about his family than his eternal obedience to the prince? absolutely did not happened and is replaced by diavolo rubbing it in lucifer's face that he shouldn't have ever doubted him in the first place or some shit during lesson 16.

it's why i think mc should be so much more upset than they were during lesson 16. i get that the writers wont do that because ~blank slate~ (not saying cant bc lbr they lock you into choices and emotions you dont agree with ALL the time) but it leaves a sour and bitter taste in my mouth that after losing all of that, mc is just okay with everything. everything returns to almost normal, and we're actually in charge of making sure it goes completely back to normal! we have to help belphie bond with his brothers again!! great.

most frustrating somehow, all the things i come up with in trying to justify why that stupid lesson played out like it did feels like copium lmaooo especially since it feels like there's not really any payoff to diavolo ensuring that the only reality that exists is one where lucifer never openly opposed him in front of his brothers >.>;; it's such a weird lesson with such a weird conclusion, and an aftermath that i sped through because i could not get into the idea of my mc being so willing to help belphie bond with his brothers again so fast. i think with all the magical bullshit that they can make the brothers and diavolo pull bc OM has no rules to their magic, they couldve easily had mc come back from their mission to report that te door opened with their touch. then through some magical ritual of some sort, they go and investigate and find that lilith's spirit is just there and was the final sibling that enabled the door to open, and then diavolo channels enough magic through some obscure spell or device to get her to talk to them and belphie or whatever—literally there's so many ways that that lesson could've gone.

instead we have like... whatever the fuck that lesson is and i hate it lol

#chat & colloquy #glorified-monster #also it just feels like that entire thing was written for shock value bc the climax has to have that #oh! you have to travel in time! oh you were killed! oh youre actually a distant descendant of their sister!#like i know good otome writing isnt the norm but...#yeah idk #sorry i just hate the lesson so much and having to think about it while writing for dola's canon made these feelings very fresh #imagine these with like... the fake-real rage of rage quit michael ranting or something #obey me #<-am i really? sure why not

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thecarnivorousmuffinmeta · 3 years ago

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i love your metas! I just discovered them today and have spent all afternoon reading them. I have two part ask, if that's okay. Firstly, do you think a sensible version of bella could survive if she recognised early on that keeping on Edward's good side was her only survival option? and secondly, on the flip side, just how unhinged do you think bella could be before edward rejected her?

Ooh, both interesting questions, anon. Let's do this.

Sane Bella and the Yandere Simulator

Last time, on The Carnivorous Muffin's ridiculous blog, we covered what would happen to a sensible Bella who realizes the Cullens are not fluffy bunnies she should take home.

The long and short, Edward eats her.

Edward's romantic interest in Bella, the thing that has him fighting his own baser nature to keep her alive, is dependent on a few things.

One of those is Bella's interest in turn.

In time, if Bella truly was not interested in him, he would eat her. Alice tells us there's only two paths for Bella: death or vampire. Leaving her and walking away is never a true option for Edward.

So, Sane Bella loses Yandere Simulator because she doesn't realize the key aspect of Yandere Simulator: You Never Say No to Yandere.

However, you point out something interesting here, that this is a sensible Bella.

Sensible people do not immediately think they're playing Yandere Simulator. You don't run across people like Edward often, there aren't many of him, and while there are red flags early in Twilight Edward did a pretty good job of making them not particularly visible.

By the time we hit Eclipse he's pretty much thrown pretending to be nice and sane out the window. Luckily for Bella, that doesn't appear to bother her as much as it should.

Bella thinking "if I don't play along with this inhuman whack job he'll eat me", is paranoid lunacy. It is not the first conclusion a reasonable person would jump to.

That it happens to be the right conclusion is irrelevant.

But alright, I'll play ball.

Paranoid Bella and the Yandere Simulator

Bella is utterly paranoid and wearing her tin foil hat when she enters Forks. She remembers Biology very well and when Edward comes back and pretends to be nice she gives him a strained smile and thinks, "This motherfucker will eat me the moment my back is turned."

Bella considers travelling back to Florida, but that would be leading Edward to her mother, more it would be very easy to find Bella if he truly wished to.

Florida isn't an option.

Bella tries to keep her distance from Edward, hard when he sits next to her in Biology, but he seems willing to ignore her. Bella calms down a little, maybe this will work out.

Bella is nearly crushed by a van, desperately pretends she definitely did not see Edward fold that van like a pretzel. Nope, no siree Bob, Bella is concussed! She then stays awake all night in terror and OH GOD HE'S CLIMBING THROUGH HER WINDOW! HE'S GOING TO EAT HER IN THE DEAD OF NIGHT! HE KNOWS THAT SHE KNOWS!

Bella pretends to sleep, horrified, and Edward stays there all night. Staring.

(Edward, meanwhile, is realizing he's in love.)

Bella enters school a nervous wreck, waiting for that fateful Biology class and... Edward is studiously ignoring her. He doesn't even say hello.

Bella would be relieved, except he keeps sneaking into her bedroom at night, staring. Bella gets no sleep for weeks.

Then the blood testing happens and suddenly Edward is talking to her. He tells her they shouldn't be friends and he doesn't want to be friends, GREAT, EDWARD, THAT'S GREAT. But then it's very clear that he's after something, and Bella's spidey senses are tingling.

Edward doesn't want to be friends.

Oh, oh shit.

Suddenly, Edward sneaking into her room at night takes on a whole, new, sinister twist. First he'll rape her, then he'll eat her (or who knows, maybe vice versa, Bella certainly doesn't want to find out).

Bella is driven home by Edward (he insists) and enters the house to wheeze into a paper bag.

She thinks over her options.

Edward can crush cars, Bella trips over asphalt. Even if she wasn't Bella, there's no way she could outfight him even if she wanted to.

Edward was very concerned when he suspected that she knew, he likely still suspects and Bella's not a very good liar. Bella doesn't want to find out what happens to her if Edward realizes she really does know.

Edward appears to have a romantic interest in her. Does Bella really have the option of saying no?

Bella, still wheezing in her bag, comes to what seems like an inevitable decision. She must humor Edward at all costs. For the sake of her family, of her own life, she must play into his romantic overtures. Bella can't act but now, her life depends on it.

Well, Bella still can't act, but luckily for her Edward doesn't care.

Edward just thinks Bella's very jumpy, a little nervous and shy, and just plain weird (given he thinks Bella's just plain weird in canon this is not too far from normal events).

So Bella gets to live in terror for things like the meadow, where Edward talks about how easy it would be to eat her, how he contemplated murdering Biology in cold blood to eat her in the most efficient manner, how he loathed her for daring to smell delicious, how Alice warned him there was a good chance of him eating Bella in the meadow today, all while pressing his cheek against her hammering heartbeat.

"AH HA HA HA HA, EDWARD, YOU'RE SO CHARMING."

Edward invites Bella to the house. These creepy, man eating, people all meet her with smiles. Edward has composed her a lullaby. One of them, Alice, tells Bella they're going to be best friends.

"AH HA HA HA HA, EDWARD YOUR FAMILY IS SO NICE."

In other words, somehow, all of Twilight still happens because Bella is terrified of saying no.

At least, until Volterra. Given Bella's being hunted by Victoria, even had Bella not gone cliff diving eventually Alice would see her eaten and then black out as the wolves chased off Victoria instead.

Bella spends New Moon having a great time. Mostly. The Cullens are finally gone, she's free, she spends weeks on edge thinking they might come back.

Just when she starts to relax, fucking Laurent shows up and learns Victoria's trying to kill her. Because of Edward, because of course, it's always about Edward. WHY ARE VAMPIRES ALWAYS TRYING TO KILL HER?!

Regardless, Alice shows up and goes, "Bella, my god, you're alive!" And Bella dies inside. Alice Cullen is back. Oh no.

Bella pretends she's thrilled to see her. Alice, her best friend, her favorite demon. Hurray. Alice fills Bella in on the New Moon scoop, Bella pretends to be very invested. Then Alice gets the vision.

Edward has decided to commit suicide via the Volturi.

Bella has no problem with this, unfortunately, she realizes that Alice clearly has a problem with this. Alice fully expects Bella to run off to Italy to save Fucking Edward.

Once again, Bella isn't sure she's allowed to say no.

Bella runs to Italy, finds herself saving Edward's life, and then she's brought before the Volturi where she might very well be executed because Edward Cullen happened to involve her in this mess.

BELLA NEVER WANTED TO BE HERE.

Bella snaps. She's crying, she just can't take it anymore, and she finally loses her shit at Edward. SHE NEVER LOVED HIM! HE IS SCARY AND WON'T LEAVE HER ALONE! IF THEY'RE GOING TO KILL HER JUST DO IT NOW BECAUSE SHE CAN'T DO THIS ANYMORE.

Aro watches Bella's mental breakdown in utter amazement. Naturally, while Marcus suspected something was funky with those two, Aro did not see this coming from Edward's perspective.

Aro offers Bella her out, it is unfortunately death or vampire, but vampire is very much an option and Aro will offer Bella sanctuary in the Volturi.

Bella takes that offer and runs with it.

Edward is devastated and blindsided.

Somehow, neither he nor Alice saw this one coming.

But to answer your question: Paranoid Bella survives Yandere Simulator By Defecting to the Volturi

How Unhinged Does Bella Have to Be For Edward to Dump Her?

He won't.

Remember, Edward in canon thinks there's something legitimately wrong with Bella. She doesn't think like normal people, she always makes the least rational choice, and he can't hear her thoughts.

Edward doesn't think Bella's gifted just that she's... different. (Bella, hilariously, immediately picks up that Edward's calling her a freak. Edward backtracks hard on that one.)

Bella's decisions also become increasingly ridiculous as the series goes on.

She stabs herself in the middle of a battle, she insists on having sex with him while human, she consorts with shapeshifters (to Edward this is lunacy), she picked up motorcycle riding, she threw herself off a cliff, she ran from his sweet protection to the reservation, she believes he doesn't love her, and she doesn't want to get married.

I imagine Edward thinks there isn't anywhere left for Bella to go. She's left the planet, unhinged is her middle name.

But none of that matters.

I already linked the Edward/Bella post I always link near the top so I'll just recap. For Edward, it's all about the blood, the silence, and the projection.

An unhinged Bella is still a delicious and silent Bella. He can still pretend she's Carlisle.

Even if Bella became addicted to cocaine, and ruined that sweet scent, it wouldn't tarnish her memory. He'd nurse her back to health, then eat her so she never relapses.

That's the trouble with Edward/Bella, it's not about Bella, not at all. You could replace her with sweet smelling cardboard and Edward would not notice a difference.

#twilight #twilight meta #twilight headcanon #twilight renaissance #edward cullen #anti edward cullen #bella swan #edward/bella #anti edward/bella #alice cullen #anti alice cullen #the volturi #aro #meta #headcanon #opinion

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mfingenius · 3 years ago

Note

Hey, I’d love a drarry in 4th year where Draco is Harry’s second task and/or they go together to the Yule Ball (a lot of provocation between them!)

Harry's staring; logically, he knows he should hurry, knows he doesn't have time to simply float around, contemplating life, but Malfoy is there, floating motionlessly beside Hermione and Gabrielle Delacour and Harry is confused.

Cho was obviously Cedric's task; that had been clear enough even before Cedric had grabbed her - while Harry had just watched, as confused as he is now - and Hermione has to be Krum's. There's no Durmstrang student, and - as far as Harry knows - Krum only talks to Hermione.

Gabrielle Delacour is Fleur's. She's her sister, it's as simple as that.

Which means that whoever designed this Merlin forsaken task thought Malfoy was 'what he'd sorely miss'.

Where the fuck were they getting their information?

Harry's startled out of his silent shock when Krum pushes by, half transformed into a shark, and frees Hermione.

He gives him an odd look while he swims back up, which is quite an impressive feat with what is possibly the least expressive animal's head as his own.

Right.

He frees Malfoy with a quick Diffindo, and grabs his wrist so he won't simply go away while he looks around; his time must be almost up - he can almost feel it, the effect of the gillyweed beginning to fade, his lungs beginning to feel unpleasant with water in them - which means Fleur needs to show up to get her sister, soon, but she's just - not.

He looks at Malfoy's face; he looks unexpectedly young and - handsome, almost - like this. There's no denying his aristocratic nose and high cheekbones are appealing - at least to Harry, who doesn't know how Ron could possibly think Malfoy's 'weird-looking' - but Harry doesn't usually have time to appreciate it, since Malfoy immediately ruins it by opening his mouth.

Fleur is still not showing up.

Gabrielle, who looks exactly like Fleur, looks like a kid even to Harry; if he'd been deemed too young to participate in the games, why is everyone in this task as young as he is, or younger?

Surely, he tries to reassure himself, the heads of school wouldn't let them rot here.

Even if the egg said they would, even if it said it 'wouldn't come back'. These are children.

Harry only has to ponder half a moment more before he decides that he doesn't trust adults that much.

A matching Diffindo frees Gabrielle, and he drags her and Malfoy up with merepeople grabbing at his feet, with his lungs filling with water, heart bursting in his chest and vision darkening at the edges because he can't breathe and he can't get out and-

He breaks the surface and hears screaming, and he's coughing up water and maybe blood - or maybe it's not his, but someone is bleeding, because the water around them is turning pink - and he wants to sink right back down, wants to rest.

"Gabrielle! Gabrielle!" Fleur's shrieking is louder than anyone else's, but Harry thinks that's fair; he's never had a sibling, but he can't imagine thinking they were going to die because of a school approved activity.

Everyone else is cheering, he realizes; they're happy for him, for them, they think this is good.

He manages to catch sight of Cedric's, Krum's, and Fleur's faces, and none of them look like they're feeling anything even slightly positive.

"Potter?" He finally looks at Malfoy. "What the bloody hell are you doing?"

Harry can't help the laugh that bubbles out of him. What is he doing? What was Malfoy doing, representing the thing Harry would sorely miss? Dumbledore - or the merepeople, or whoever made this decision - could've taken Ron, could've taken any Weasley, hell, they could've taken bloody Mrs. Norris, and Harry thinks they would've been a better choice than Malfoy.

He tightens his grip around Malfoy's and Gabrielle's arms, and begins dragging them towards the other contestants; as soon as they're there, hands are reaching in and pulling them all out, wrapping them in blankets, and Fleur is hugging Gabrielle and crying and Malfoy's teeth are chattering and Harry can still feel water in his lungs and he can't think.

"Merlin, Harry, you're bleeding!" Hermione exclaims.

Harry looks down and realizes she's right; the merepeople got him with their claws.

"Come on," she says, cheeks red from the cold. "We'll get you to the infirmary."

Slytherins keep making kissy sounds at him in the hallways, and it gets worse whenever Malfoy is around; he'd think this is Malfoy's doing, except the bastard looks just as embarrassed as Harry - if not more than Harry - when it happens.

They can't quite even look at each other anymore, let alone argue, because if they even say a word to each other, there are three dozen people suddenly watching.

Which is how Harry finds out he would kind of miss Malfoy if he were gone.

In the totally not friendly, even less romantic, entirely normal rival kind of way.

Obviously.

He likes to think Malfoy misses him a little bit too.

Which is, of course, why Harry seeks him out after checking the Marauders' map and making sure there's no one else within a hundred meters of them.

"What the-" Harry has to cover Malfoy's mouth, because if not, it would ruin his plan of quietly shoving Malfoy into the broom shed.

"Shut up, you git," he says, looking around and shutting the door behind him; Malfoy bites his hand, hard, and Harry muffles a yelp, pulling it back.

Malfoy smirks, looking quite pleased with himself, and Harry glares.

"What do you want?" Malfoy asks, looking around and upturning his nose; his features are decidedly less appealing when he's talking; Harry wants to shut him up. "Why'd you bring me here? It's disgusting, Potter."

And yeah, okay, the broom shed isn't quite nice - it has just as many spiders and much more dust than Harry's old cupboard under the stairs - but it's not like they could talk anywhere else.

"I didn't want other people listening," he says.

Malfoy looks at him incredulously. "Listening to what?"

Which makes Harry realize that he didn't really have a plan after this, and yeah, it might've been a bad idea.

What does he want to do? Talk to Malfoy? Apologize? For what? Insult the bastard? Argue? It wouldn't be too hard, considering Malfoy's a pointy, contrarious git, but Harry suddenly doesn't know why he dragged Malfoy in here, either.

He can't let Malfoy know that.

"You never thanked me," he says.

Malfoy's look turns more incredulous, first, and then his eyes narrow furiously, jaw tightening.

"Thanked you for what, Potter?" he asks, crossing his arms. "Making sure every single person in this awful school thinks we're secretly dating? Making sure I can't get down a bloody hallway without some idiotic Gryffindor asking me something beyond inappropriate about you? Making my parents think there's something going on between us so they're threatening to disown me?"

"What?" Harry asks, immediately thrown off. "Your parents would disown you if we were dating?"

Malfoy looks taken aback, like he didn't expect himself to say that, and he looks away. "Forget it. I'm not thanking you."

"Your parents would disown you for dating me?" Harry asks, still stuck on that fact. "Why?"

Malfoy looks troubled, and he shakes his head, looking at the door like he wants to flee; unfortunately for him, Harry's blocking it.

"Are we done here?" he asks. "I'd really rather not spend time in a shed with you."

"Oh, please, you'd love to spend time in a shed with me." Harry rolls his eyes, because he, too, is easy to goad into an argument, as long as it's Malfoy doing the goading.

"Yeah? What part of this do you think I'm loving?" Malfoy asks drily.

Harry doesn't have an answer except for the realization that he himself isn't having the worst time of his life. He isn't even having the worst time he's had today.

"Arguing," he says dumbly.

Malfoy looks at him incredulously again, and then he shakes his head, almost to himself.

"Go to the infirmary, Potter," he says, sliding past him, twisting himself in an almost impressive way so he doesn't touch Harry at all. "Tell Pomfrey to check for head injuries."

"Would you care if I did have a head injury?" Harry asks, already knowing he doesn't have one but not willing to quite reject the idea, because he's enjoying time with Malfoy. He's enjoying arguing with Malfoy.

Malfoy snorts and rolls his eyes. "Sure, Potter. If you end up in the infirmary with a head injury, I'll visit and even bring you flowers, I pinky swear."

He leaves the shed, and leaves Harry blinking after him.

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jupitermelichios · 3 years ago

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Lets talk Spike’s love interests

I’ve been prodding at possible sequel ideas for my Spike x John Constantine fic, and it got me thinking about Spike’s romantic and sexual history, and I have Thoughts™ so I guess you’re all getting meta.

Angel/Angelus

I know is isn’t necessarily a popular opinion, but I absolutely think Angelus and Spike were fucking for basically the entire 15 or so years the Whirlwind was together.

I also don’t think it was as fucked up as you’d necessarily expect.

Spike is genuinely pleased to have Angelus back in season 2, at least to begin with, so there must have been something more than just resentment between them, and I think that something was kinky sex. Angelus is a sadistic bastard who’s idea of BDSM probably looks like torture to an outsider, but Vampires heal fast, and while I think Spike’s more a pure submissive than he is a masochist, I also don’t think he minded the rough treatment at all, especially not if Angelus took the time to build a clear distinction between play time and any of the bickering from the rest of their lives, and I think that’s something Angelus would care about, because he also needs that distinction. He can’t walk around just being the person who’s attracted to Spike in his daily life, not without fundamentally altering his own self-image. So they have boundaries, they have pretty compatible kinks, they have accelerated healing to keep Angelus from fucking up too badly.

Aftercare is probably non-existant, but the plus of them all living communally is that Darla and Dru are there to pick up the slack. (Darla and Spike have a singular lack of relationship in canon, and which is mostly a feature of Darla not really being a character in any meaningful sense until pretty late into Angel, but I like the idea that once he stops trying to turn her into a mother figure, they actually get on pretty well. They don’t have sex, and Darla ultimately disproves of him on religious grounds, but she can’t resist fussing over him a little bit in her own way, including cleaning him up and getting him a meal after Angelus has got bored and wondered off to massacre a village or whatever it is he does for fun. Her interactions with Dru suggest she quite enjoys taking that matriarchial role with her family, indulgent and fond and the ultimate unquestionable authority.)

Ensoulled Angel and unsoulled Spike have sex exactly once, in that weird liminal space where Angel has his soul back but hasn’t left the Whirlwind yet and is going slowly insane while trying to pretend everything is still normal. It’s pretty tame by their usual standards, because the idea of doing any of the shit Angelus used to do makes him feel sick (he never really figures out that the kinky sex isn’t the actual bad thing Angelus did to Spike, because ensoulled Angel is messed up about a lot of shit but none more than his family). Despite that, it’s the only time that leaves Spike actually fucked up, Angel blowing hot and cold, moving the boundaries every time Spike thinks he's figured out what game they're playing, letting him go deep and then refusing to actually be his Dom. It's bad enough that Dru actually warns Angel off, which ends up being of the catalysts for him figuring out he needs to leave.

This may also be the source of Spike’s issues with men, but I suspect that that has more to do with his mother and noticable lack of a father than it does Angel. (Although Angel disappearing in China probably reinforces every natural suspicion he was already harbouring). Either way, every person Spike cares deeply about is a woman. It’s one of the reasons I don’t like Spike/Xander as a ship, because that requires Spike to care about another man in a way he just... doesn’t, in canon. Even as I'm writing a version of Spike owning his bisexuality and falling for a man, I don't think that's changed much, he's just mentally ammended his definition of acceptable people to 'women and also John' in his head, and even getting him to do that much took 130,000 words of branching timeline character growth. That's one of the reasons I don't think Spike & Angel would ever work as a couple outside the confines of their family, for all that they probably screw around a few times during/post Angel S4. With Dru and Darla there, Spike can follow their lead, (and he probably hates men at least a bit less at that point, which helps). When it's just the two of them, no Dru to follow and no Darla to lay down the law, his mental pigeonhole for Angel is a lot less about family, and a lot more about masculinity.

Drusilla

Oh Spike and Dru, I love them and their relationship so much, and it’s so fucked up.

Lets start with the fact that Spike wants a domme and that’s a role Dru can play - when the stars of her mental constallations happen to align correctly - but it’s very much playing. Spike is not playing, Spike is deadly fucking serious. I’m honestly not sure if Dru knows that or not, not that it matters particularly when it’s not something she can give him either way.

Then there’s the fact that Dru wants, and frequently needs, a daddy. And not just a daddydom. She needs an authority figure to act as a fixed point she can orbit around and rebel against (Dru has a complicated relationship with authority figures), and Spike does an impressively good job considering, but it doesn’t seem to come naturally.

More seriously, there’s the fact that while Dru does genuiely like Spike as well as loving him, a rarity among the vampire relationships we see, she doesn’t ultimately respect him. I think when Angel and Darla were still around, she thought of Spike as something like her fellow Little, or possibly the beloved family pet to her own precious daughter. He was her playmate. When Darla said ‘no, you can’t go and steal dresses from bond street we’re keeping a low profile’, Angel might have egged her on but it was Spike who actually went with her, and it was Spike who tried to keep Darla from scolding. (Are you noticing a running theme here? My Darla is the only actual adult, surrounded by people who never finished mentally growing up). Once their ‘parents’ have left, it’s just Dru and Spike and someone has to stop Dru doing something that will put her in serious danger (I think the family all underestimate her in this respect specifically, but given her penchent for murdering children, which tends to attract attention, it’s not an unfounded concern) so now he’s not her fun playmate anymore, or not as often as he used to be, he’s the one trying to keep them safe and under the radar, the one trying to manage her actual mental health issues (and despite the goth manic pixie dream girl-ness of her, she does have very real, very serious, mental health issues.)

He thinks she’s a goddess and loves her in probably the closest to genuine healthy romantic love we see from a vampire, which isn’t saying much admittedly, but he’s definitely bottling up some resentment for the ways she isn’t what he needs. He wouldn’t fixate on Buffy the way he does if there wasn’t at least a part of him that’s unhappy. Meanwhile Dru loves him but needs him to be at least two people at any given time, and is disappointed when he can’t manage it.

Could they be fixed with marriage counselling? Yes, I think they actually could, marriage counselling and maybe an open relationship, or at least some friends, would do them the world or good. They can’t provide everything one another needs, but no one person ever can, the issue is that they only have each other. If they had other people to lean on for the things they can’t give one another, and if they learned to actually communicate, I think they could be genuinely happy. Dru's lack of respect for Spike, Spike's lack of trust in Dru, they're solvable problems that will never get solved because every joss wheadon character is terrible at actually communicating.

Harmony

Every Spike and Harmony scene is either hilarious or heartbreaking, often both at once. The really stupid thing is that I legitimately think they could have been friends if they didn’t keep trying to date. Spike can be a catty bitch sometimes, and he doesn’t have anyone he can let that side out of himself out around. Also despite being a pretty horrible person when she was alive, Harmony was absolutely also the drunk girl earnestly telling you to dump your shitty boyfriend in the club bathroom, and Spike could use some of that in his life. And Harmony would adore having a mentor, she’s so hungry for validation. They even probably like a lot of the same movies.

As it is though, Spike’s scenes with her are essentially him trying to LARP being a straight man, or what he thinks a straight man is filtered through victorian morality, demoic possession, and Angelus. There’s definitely a whole lot of nasty internalised shit going on in the fact that he responds to Dru telling him he’s not masculine enough by trying to pretend to be straighter, more dominant, and less kinky, than he presents himself in any other relationship.

(And just as much horrible internalised shit in the fact that Harmony behaves the same with him as every other love interest she gets, and it's not at all the way she behaves when she's actually just being herself.)

There's absolutely no universe in which they could have a healthy romantic relationship, or even healthy casual sex (they're both so very very bad at casual), but there definitely is a universe in which they sit in the lobby of Wolfram and Hart drinking pink wine from corporate branded mugs and talking shit about Angel, and I wish that was the universe that had made it to TV.

Faith

Okay, so this is like two hints in S7 and not an official love interest, but it was going to be. Those hints are in there because there was a Spike & Faith spin-off show in the works that never ended up happening, but I care nothing for the petty concerns of canon so I'm going to talk about it anyway!

Could they have had a healthy non-destructive romantic relationship? God no, in absolutely no universe. Faith's definitely-present-if-never-precisely-canon untreated BPD and Spike's 100%-canon insecurity and lack of emotional skills would collide in the worst way. But on the other hand, would every interaction they have be more erotically charged than the best porn ever made? Absolutely also yes.

If Spike was actually capable of having casual sex without falling in love, they would probably have the best sex of any of these possible relationships. They don't need the same things from sex, or kink, but in a casual setting that would probably work in their favour. Faith would absolutely enjoy playing Spike's domme, but it would only be playing, and in a universe where they managed to keep things casual that wouldn't be the issue it is with Dru. And Faith would freak the fuck out if anyone tried to service!top her for serious, but the fact that that's not Spike's preferred role would keep things casual in a way that might let her actually start learning to accept care and give up some control.

It would all go up in flames eventually either way, because of the afore-mentioned ways their different mental health needs would conflict and the fact that I'm not entirely sure mental-health professionals who aren't horror-movie-trope-assylum-orderlies even exist in the Buffy universe, but while it lasted I think they would actually be good for one another.

And, you know, they could bond over both being really really thirsty for Buffy.

Buffy

Oh Spuffy. I never shipped it and yet I understand completely why so many other people did. They're just so compelling together, the way good tragedy always is.

I know this is going to be contraversial with some people, but I don't think Buffy loves Spike. I don't think she even likes him, although that's sort of moot given that she doesn't really know him, and doesn't show any real interest in getting to know him. She needs something he can provide, and that's really as far as their relationship goes, for her.

Which isn't a criticism, exactly. If they were on the same page about that, there would be nothing wrong with her using him that way. (By the end of season 7, they actually mostly are on the same page, which is why I prefer those interactions to anything that came before, no matter how I feel about the season as a whole). The issue is that Buffy not only has no idea where to start with healthy communication, I don't think she even knows that it's a skill she's lacking, and even if she wasn't, it probably wouldn't occur to her to apply it to Spike.

I should also stress, I do think Buffy is very emotionally immature in a lot of ways, but I don't think that's her fault. Living the life she has, it's no wonder she doesn't know how healthy relationships are supposed to work. Hell, the best role model she's got is Joyce, who despite the bait and switch they pulled in season five is a consistently terrible parent for the first three seasons. One of Buffy's two main role-models of emotional maturity is a woman who kicked her sixteen year old daughter out of the house for being, essentially, born different, and then punishes her for having left once she allows her to come back. (Seriously, like half the emotional beats of season 3 are people being angry that Buffy left town, and it's never once address that her own mother literally threw her own and made her homeless minutes after the most traumatic experience of Buffy's life up to that point. I have a lot of strong feelings about Joyce and absolutely none of them are possitive). Her dad sees his daughters once a year, and eventually even that gets to be too much quality time for him. Giles loves her, but it also takes him five seasons to stop thinking of her as a sacrificial lamb, or maybe a scapegoat, and even once he admits to himself he loves her that's still not enough to make him actually say the damn words. It is in no way Buffy's fault that she's fucked the hell up, but that doesn't negate the fact that she's fucked the hell up.

As she is in canon, I don't think Buffy is capable of having a healthy romantic relationship with anyone. She needs time, and space, and a boat-load of therapy to start unpicking all the bullshit she's been taught, by her mom, by her dad, by Giles, by Angel, and for that to happen the world would need to stop nearly ending every other weekend.

The question of whether Spike loves Buffy is thornier. I'm not sure he likes her all that much more than she likes him, although he definitely knows her better. He respects her more than she respects him, and he understands her more. Whether he actually likes her... hard to say. I don't think he's lying when he says he loves her, but I also think he uses her as something like the methodone to Dru's heroine. She's emotionally safer, just by virtue of being more stable, and the fact of her being the Slayer lets him justify to himself why she deserves the plinth he places her on in his mind, but ultimately she's still up on that pedestal that used to belong to Dru.

This isn't an Edward Cullen situation though, or even Angel, I don't think he'd hate her if he ever actually realised she had feet of clay, but I don't know whether his feelings for her would survive it. Maybe, because Spike is nothing if not loyal to the people he loves, but I don't think so.

I also think, despite the element of hero worship, his attraction to her is fairly grounded in reality, and post-series, will fade naturally into the kind of fondness people have for old flames. It will take more time that it would for most people, both because he's immortal and because she's the reason he got his soul back, but it will happen. There will be a point, a hundred years from now, when someone asks him who Buffy was and he'll respond truthfully 'just a girl I used to know', and that's not a bad thing.

And then there's the biggest question of all: could they have worked? Is there a universe out there somewhere where they actually built something that lasted?

I think my answer to that is... maybe. I think it's possible. I also think it's vanishingly unlikely. There's probably one universe where it happens. There probably aren't five.

They don't have much in common, when you get right down to it. They don't share a taste in music, books, movies, friends... The only hobby they have in common is fighting. They could probably be having better sex than they do in canon if they actually talked about anything, but they still wouldn't have many kinks in common. They're very different people, with different needs. There was a moment when those needs alligned, when Buffy needed unconditional support and Spike needed a cause to pledge his heart and soul to. They anchored close to one another while they weathered the storm, traded for the supplies they needed to survive, and then passed on, each going their own way.

I think it's possible that makes them the healthiest relationship on this list.

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