#the only other option is ireland

[rainydayscribbling]

I wanna do a year abroad but my only option is the US (because of funds…), which is a bit annoying because I AM VERY UNSURE IF I WILL SURVIVE THAT, politically speaking, but I have to decide in the next few weeks… US peeps help

[coochiequeens]

"Like many people who go through surrogacy, Cathy said it was not a choice; it was their only option." While I feel bad for what Cathy went through surrogacy was NOT her only option. Adoption is also possible.

By Kate McDonald

As a bill that seeks to regulate aspects of surrogacy goes before cabinet, Prime Time spoke to families who have used international surrogates.

"My house was silent. When you have a stillborn baby, your house is silent." Cathy Wheatley was seven months pregnant when she had a spontaneous uterine rupture. Her daughter, who she named Helen, died at birth and Cathy found out she could not carry any more pregnancies. "I lost my little girl," Cathy said. Despite their devastating loss, Cathy and her husband Keith Wheatley, from Co Wicklow, were determined to have their family.

Like many people who go through surrogacy, Cathy said it was not a choice; it was their only option."When a doctor mentions surrogacy, your first reaction is, people like me don't do that. You know what I mean? Like, we're just ordinary, everyday people on a farm in Wicklow. "But when they looked into it, they found that there were Irish couples doing it.

"You have to be very careful to make sure that you do all your research so that you know that you're doing the best that you possibly can for your babies, but also for your surrogate, because without your surrogate, you wouldn't have your babies," Cathy said.

The Wheatleys decided to go to a clinic in Ukraine, where they met Ivanna, who would eventually carry and give birth to their twins Ted and Elsie.

"It's the biggest thing in the world to give your babies to somebody to carry and to mind until they can give them back to you," Cathy said.

"I love those kids but I don't love them as my own; those are different feelings. Like it’s my nephew or cousins, not like my son or my daughter," Ivanna said.

Ivanna told Prime Time she became a surrogate mother after the birth of her second son.

"That is something I wanted to do because I love helping people, I love the feeling of being pregnant and I thought why, why don’t I help?" Ivanna said.

Cathy and Keith Wheatley remortgaged their house to front the cost. They paid just under €40,000 to their clinic in Ukraine, of which €14,000 was compensation for their surrogate Ivanna.

"I’m pregnant for nine months. I don’t work. But I have two kids. And my kids have basic needs" Ivanna said.

"They needed food, they needed education, they need dresses – everything that a normal kid needs. If I am surrogate, I am pregnant, I can’t work. It’s not like you are getting a lot of money with that - not like you decide 'I need money’ so I’ll go and get a baby for somebody. [It’s] not like many people think it is."

With legal fees, flights and accommodation, their total spend was €70,000.

"They don’t pay you for being pregnant in Ukraine, they compensate for your time," Ivanna said.

The Wheatleys and Ivanna developed a deep relationship and kept in touch after the twins’ birth.

When Russia invaded Ukraine two years ago, the Wheatleys brought Ivanna and her children to live with them in Ireland.

"If we talk about what happened in my country now, they came and they saved my life and they saved the life of my kids because four years ago I gave life to their kids," Ivanna said.

Brian and Kathy Egan had always planned to have four children. But after having her first son, Harry, Kathy had six miscarriages and she said she knew a larger family wasn't to be.

"It obviously gets harder every time to pick yourself up after it and try again. But we still felt very strongly that we'd be able to do this."

Kathy had no issue getting pregnant but couldn’t sustain the pregnancies. After another two miscarriages, the Egans began to consider surrogacy.

"Because it's new to you, you're second-guessing everything, you really want to make sure you have the right information. It's going to be the right clinic, the right surrogate, and everything is right in every way," Brian said.

Kathy and Brian Egan

The cost of surrogacy in the US and Canada ruled that region out for them, so they began looking elsewhere. They decided to go with a clinic in Lviv, Ukraine.

"Within a month, we were matched with a surrogate who matched my blood type, and we went ahead. But unfortunately, at the 20-week scan, we discovered there was a fatal fetal abnormality within the heart."

That first surrogate pregnancy ended in miscarriage, but the Egans then found a second surrogate.

"We did Zoom or Skype calls with Mariana, our surrogate. Her first response after every checkup was, 'now, can we tell Kathy & Brian?'"

"She's a very strong lady and quite business-like too. She was in no doubt that this was helping us both," Brian said.

Baby Luke arrived in May 2019 while Brian, Kathy and big brother Harry were at home in Kilkenny. They travelled through the night to get to Lviv.

"You cannot get there quick enough. You'd swim there," Kathy said.

"He was tiny. He was four weeks early, but he looked like Harry looked when he was born. So, I knew straight away which one to walk over to."

"You feel like, you know, you've been talking to him for months and praying and hoping to meet him, but it's like no other feeling," Kathy said.

The entire process cost the Egans about €100,000, they said.

Two years later, in June 2021, the family were stunned when Brian was diagnosed with an aggressive form of prostate cancer.

"I didn't know what to say, really. That ‘cancer’ word anyway, you're all over the place," Brian said.

Eleven days after he was diagnosed, Brian’s prostate was removed. The surgery was a success, but his next blood test indicated the cancer had spread.

"At that stage I genuinely felt I didn't have long left. I was looking at Luke, he was two, didn't know if he was going, I was going to see him being three."

Brian received radiotherapy treatment and is still getting hormone treatment, which he says is going well.

However, due to the lack of regulation around the legal status for parents of children born through surrogacy, the Egans were left in a precarious situation.

Current Irish legislation does not cover legal issues that arise in surrogacy. The legal status and rights of all people involved are covered by the laws dealing with non-surrogate births.

This means the surrogate mother, who gives birth to the child, is the child's legal mother under Irish law. In the Egan’s case, Kathy is not Luke’s legal parent, although genetically he is her son as he was born using Kathy’s egg and Brian’s sperm.

"We just realised, if I pass away prematurely, Luke is effectively an orphan of the state." said Brian. "Kathy is just his legal guardian. He would not have a parent, he has different rights to Harry."

Brian and Kathy decided to take a case to the High Court, saying the State had failed to recognise Kathy as Luke’s mother.

The Egans were in court in April but have recently paused their action after hearing assurances that long-promised surrogacy legislation will be brought before the Oireachtas soon.

Under proposed terms of the Health (Assisted Human Reproduction) Bill 2022, parents of children born through surrogacy will be recognised as legal parents, if they meet certain criteria in the jurisdiction in which the surrogacy is intended to take place, and also the criteria to be specified in the Irish legislation.

Senator Mary Seery Kearney and her husband Dave tried to have a baby via IVF.

"We did 13 rounds.... I was pregnant on five occasions...unfortunately, they all resulted in a miscarriage," she said.

"We're a very close couple, but it's a very, very stressful experience. All my life... I wanted to be a mother. I wanted my own child," she said.

Mary initially thought that surrogacy was for well-off people: "My view was Elton John did surrogacy, really rich people did surrogacy. We were ordinary people, already indebted from all of the IVFs we had done."

When she began researching, she initially relied on Google. She said the most impressive website she found was for a clinic in Kyiv.

"We flew over, we gave them €12,000 upfront, and nothing came of that," she said.

Senator Mary Seery Kearney

After that experience in Ukraine, Senator Seery Kearney and her husband found a clinic in India and a surrogate who would carry their child.

"We were so grateful to this woman, and I also felt a huge responsibility for her," Mary said.

They said they sent gifts every couple of weeks and engaged with the surrogate mother all the way through. When the pregnancy reached the 20-week mark, they allowed themselves to hope it would be a success.

"I have to say, right up until the moment we stood outside the theatre, I didn't really believe. I believed that something was going to go wrong. Because you, you carry that trauma into the experience," she said.

But when they were called inside they knew it was real.

"I literally ran, I screamed and ran, 'this is my little girl,' handed into my arms," she said.

Now advocating in the Oireachtas for changes to made to Irish surrogacy legislation, Mary thinks 'goodwill' payments should be made to the surrogate to cover their costs during the pregnancy, but does not agree with commercial surrogacy: in which an agency takes a fee and passes on a portion of it to the surrogate.

"Throughout the process you have doctors paid, clinicians paid, you have the travel agent's paid, you have the lawyers paid.

"The only person that isn't entitled to any goodwill gesture at all is the person who's giving birth, who's carrying the pregnancy and giving birth. And that there is no reason why a goodwill payment could not be made to that surrogate," she says.

[death-and-the-codein-scene]

Trying to book two concerts in a nearby city and a 10 day trip to wherever Europe all in the same 7 day time frame is a real buzz kill ngl

[hollowdeath]

obsession (hjp)

pairing: harry james potter x fem!reader AU (18+)

summary: harry potter (19) is attending university after hogwarts, and isn't recovering well from the war. completely alone, harry soon grows attached to you, the girl from his potions class. however, his attachment quickly turns to obsession, and harry isn't sure how much longer he can be just friends.

content warning: smut!!! perverted thoughts/acts, shame, masturbation, stalking, obsession, yearning/pining, intoxication, jealousy, stealing panties, dry humping, cumming in pants, oral sex, overstimulation, penetration, creampie

a/n: sooo i wrote over 19k words in like 2 days. but i haven't written a proper fanfic in literal years so please be kind. heavilyyy inspired by "never have i ever" from @selfcarecap , please go read it when you have the chance!! this is very much a SLOW BURN, do not proceed if you do not thoroughly enjoy pining…ft. a shy, inexperienced, slightly obsessive university student harry who has jealousy issues and perverted tendencies but is still such a complete gentleman…some of this might not be book/movie accurate…sue me...

song: Do Friends Fall In Love? - Rachael & Vilary

harry's expectations of university weren't very high to begin with, but he didn't expect it to be this shit.

there were limited options for him since he had no desire of leaving the U.K. to further his career as an auror. and since the only 2 schools that offered a program for him were either an old, run-down campus in the middle of nowhere or an overpopulated city school known for its infamously average quidditch team, his decision wasn't difficult.

the dorms, however, made him reconsider entirely.

though harry was grateful to have a solo room, it was entirely bleak and smelled vaguely of mildew. one tiny window he's unable to open past a few inches and a depressing overhead fluorescent bulb was enough to have him searching the other university's dormitory information, only to be just as disappointed with the result.

harry gets over it quickly, as it becomes fitting to his mental state at the time. plain, cold, and unforgiving, harry feels like it's what he deserves to live in after everything he's seen.

to say harry hadn't been doing well after the war was a criminal understatement. his whole life had been leading up to and dedicated towards killing voldemort before he killed harry first. in that time, he held a purpose and drive to fulfill everyone's expectations of him. and, once he did, he was left with nothing.

voldemort had consumed harry's entire life, and the lives of everyone around him as well. though they technically both died, harry had the choice to live again. after he made that choice, he was never the same.

the relationships around him were changed forever. he lost friends. he lost family. he lost himself. and yet, life continued.

applying for university felt so silly to harry at the time. he had just fought in a war and died, and now he had to sign up for 9 a.m. transfiguration classes. to say he was uninterested was putting it lightly.

it didn't help that he knew no one there. it was nobody's first choice school by any means, and it didn't exactly have the best reputation. his classmates fizzled out into other schools or already had jobs, like ron…

ron and hermione. seems like lately wherever hermione went, ron followed. of course she got accepted into some of the most prestigious schools of magic in the world, with some practically begging her to pick them over the others.

in the end she chose westminster, a legendary university along the northern ireland coast that saw many great members of the ministry in its time. harry's school was practically the furthest it could've been from her all things considered.

ron worked for the ministry office in the area like his father, though he was more like an assistant or secretary than an active member. still, he was paid well and ultimately he and hermione were able to find a place near both of their priorities that worked well for them.

harry knew he wouldn't see them very often at this point. no matter, his relationship with them had long since changed, and not for the better. ron had lost his brother and hermione had lost her parents. once the calm settled after the storm, there was a lingering tension between him and them that went unmentioned for over a year before they split ways silently.

harry still talked to hermione towards the end, mainly to discuss ron and his grief. harry knew the growing coldness between him and his friend wasn't unjustified. harry felt a level of guilt that he previously thought was impossible when it came to fred, and though ron never out right blamed harry, it was just never the same between them.

harry knew their relationship wasn't completely at a loss. like hermione told him, it just needed time. once they both process what happened they can always come back to each other.

but for now, harry was alone. completely and utterly alone.

his first day of classes were confusing, boring, and packed with students. seriously, every seat in every lecture hall was filled, and the hallways were just a mess. the sidewalks weren't much better with too many people being too loud, walking too slow or too fast. in the end, harry was exhausted by the time he showed up for his last class of the day.

another packed room despite his effort to be there earlier than he planned. rather than a lecture hall like all his other classes that day, this last one was set up with plenty of tables and cauldrons. potions. harry loved this class at hogwarts. as his eyes scanned the room for an empty seat, he felt eyes fixated on him from every direction.

though he looks like the same harry potter everyone's read about, he's completely different now. his once bright eyes and radiant smile have been replaced with eye bags and unkempt facial hair. both his short beard and his overgrown hair gave him a messy, disheveled appearance that was rougher than people remember. but, as always, the glasses had never left, and neither had his scar.

ignoring the curious glances and whispers, harry takes a seat towards the middle of the room at an empty table. as more students filed in, his table became the last place to sit. he couldn't help but feel like an outsider, his first day and he already had a reputation.

as the final bell rings, the last student comes walking through the doorway.

it's you.

you're walking quickly, rushing into the classroom just as the ringing of the bell comes to an end. right behind you is the professor, a man of small stature with an impressive beard yet bald head.

"ms. [y/l/n]." he simply states.

you stop in your tracks, a look of defeat crossing your face as you slowly turn to him.

"professor rodden." you respond cheerfully. "it's nice to see you."

he looks unimpressed with your tone.

"we should try to be a bit more punctual next class period, hm?" he asks condescendingly.

harry is taken aback by the immediately intense interaction between the two of you. there's clearly an established relationship there that doesn't seem to be positive.

he can't see the look on your face as your back is turned to him, but he can hear the forced smile in your voice as you cordially respond, "of course. my apologies."

you turn on your heel, facing harry as you quickly find your seat across from him at his table. with all eyes on you, harry looks away and at the front of the room towards professor rodden.

rodden had an indistinguishable look on his face about the situation, but quickly moved on with introducing the class. as he shut the door and began writing on the board, harry took a moment to look back at you.

somewhere in that time you had pulled out a book and ink pen as you began taking notes. your hair fell around your face as you concentrated on your penmanship; a slight furrow of your brows and pursing of your lips.

you were gorgeous. he couldn't deny it.

something about the way you got lost in your notes was so mesmerizing to him. the intense exchange between you and the professor seemed to have no effect on you as you continued to scrawl your thoughts onto parchment. harry couldn't imagine himself being so calm as to just begin jotting down notes immediately after such a conflict.

his eyes flickered from your concentrated expression to your ferociously moving hand, writing line by line in succession without so much as a second's pause. he had to admit he was impressed with you, but he wasn't quite sure how to describe it.

finally, you felt his curious gaze on you.

looking up at him, harry's struck with how beautiful your eyes were. his heart jumps along with his stomach, he's never had such a physical reaction to someone's features before. you're just, so…right. like everything about you just makes sense together.

harry's used to people recognizing him pretty quickly, mostly before he even sees them first. it almost feels like having a big sign taped to his back that says "harry potter, the boy who lived twice". but, you…you just looked at him. simply looking, nothing more.

he felt so see-through at that moment, like you were looking right past him. he could feel his heart thumping, and would be surprised if you couldn't hear it for yourself.

you give him the most casual smile in the world, barely an acknowledgement of his existence in that moment, and yet it fills him with something entirely warm and familiar. he's sure he looks completely lost staring at you, turning his head at the last moment to relieve you of his gaze.

it's a simple, introductory, first day of class. you're all let out half an hour early with no assignment other than to show up for the next, real class on wednesday.

as you're packing up to leave, harry is back and forth between introducing himself to you or letting you leave. surely you'll talk to him at some point during this class, right? especially if no one else seems to sit with you two for the rest of the semester.

but, as you turn your back to him to leave, he makes the split second decision that he can't let you leave without a proper introduction.

quickly gathering his books, harry follows you out the door along with the ridiculous amount of students flooding the halls. scrambling for a reason to talk to you, harry catches up to your left side as you look over at him with surprise.

"how does rodden have it out for you already, hm?"

it's a genuine question he has, but he's not sure it's a great topic to bring up during your first interaction.

looking up at him as you both walk away from the classroom, your cheeks go red as you chuckle dryly to yourself and look away. "oh, arthur?" you ask.

harry's shocked. not just at the way you're looking at him, but the boldness of calling your university professor by their first name so casually. he doesn't know how to respond.

"he's a total wanker," you say with a smirk. "had him 3 semesters in a row now and he just…ugh," you groan, rolling your eyes. harry is even more at a loss. he's surely never called anyone a wanker, let alone a professor, but he can't help himself from laughing at your frustration.

"oh? what's so bad about him?" harry asks as he continues to follow you outside, a cool breeze blowing your hair back in the most cinematic moment harry's ever experienced in real life. as you look up at him, your eyes catch the sunlight and practically melt him on the spot. his breathing hitches at your shy smile and rosy cheeks, and he just couldn't understand how a human could look like that so casually.

"honestly, he's not so bad. he's actually quite a good professor…" you say with a twinge of guilt, turning to look ahead of you. "he just doesn't like me, i guess. we don't see eye to eye, to put it kindly." you laugh it off.

harry doesn't understand. you seem like such a pleasure to be around, and he's only known you these past few minutes. how could anyone dislike you? especially when they're looking into those eyes.

he continues to walk with you, asking about your classes and what your schedule's like. no other classes together, to harry's disappointment, but it's because you're a year above him.

"wow, have any advice for a first year, then?" he asks. it feels like a bit of a silly question, but he just wants to keep talking to you.

you chuckle, like you do after everything he says. he's not sure what to make of it, hoping it's that you truly do find him that funny. "well, i guess i would just tell you to study constantly, keep to yourself, but don't take any shit." you smirk at him again.

he likes that advice. he can already tell you're the type to not let anyone push you around, like with rodden. he likes that about you. you're a bit more confident than him, and you're not afraid to be bold despite your naturally sweet, gentle nature. you're funny, witty, intelligent, and, of course, unbelievably beautiful.

harry just keeps coming back to it through your walking and talking together. every time he looks at you he instantly loses his place in time. it's like everything goes quiet for just that split second that you're looking at him. he's never felt like this, but he's practically addicted to the feeling after the 10 minutes it took for him to walk you to your next class.

before parting ways, he asks for your name. "well, it's nice to meet you then, [y/n]. i'm–" "harry, right?" you ask sarcastically, giving him a cheeky smile. normally that answer would have left him defeated, you already knowing who he was, but for some reason, it didn't feel so bad this time. you never acted like you knew him once this whole conversation. you just let him talk and ask questions without feeling like he was anyone special.

well, of course he felt special. when you looked at him, that is.

he didn't want to let you leave, it physically hurt him to say goodbye. but he wasn't about to creep you out already. no, he had to make a good impression with you. so, he simply turned around and walked away, knowing he would see you again soon.

and as harry walked to his potions class that next wednesday, he had the biggest pep in his step he's had in a while. you'd think there was a tree full of presents waiting for him in that classroom the way he practically jogged through the maze of people between him and you.

as soon as he walked in, he saw you.

how could you get even more beautiful than you were before? he's actually taken aback for a moment as he makes eye contact with you. his heart is so loud in his ears it's deafening. as he slowly makes his way towards the table left for you two, he can't help the goofy smile that spreads across his lips.

"[y/n]." he says, letting it roll of his tongue. you smile warmly at him, your eyes softening. "harry. it's nice to see you again," you chirp.

he's just mesmerized by you yet again, the way you say his name is like a song he never wants to turn off. he's pretty much in complete awe of you as he sits across from your seat.

you chat a bit before class starts, an introduction to your first experiment. professor rodden explains that each table of four will split into partners for each assignment. as harry instinctively looks at you, he's already meeting your eager gaze.

he can't help it when he smiles like a fool at you. he can just hardly believe someone as amazing as you would want to spend even more time with him.

after class, you gush to harry about how excited you are to be potion partners together. his face completely flushes as he tries to return the sentiment, thanking whatever luck he has in this universe to be deserving of this opportunity to be with you all semester, twice a week at least, not including outside studying and walking you to your next class.

that night, after exchanging numbers with you to "discuss class", he finds himself staring at the number you scrawled on a ripped piece of notebook paper along with your name. he just holds it for a while, tracing the curves of your name with his eyes. you're just so amazing to him in every little way.

weeks later, harry is a wreck.

you see, he's become, well…completely obsessed with you. every moment he spends awake is spent thinking about you. in the midst of hours-long homework sessions or mind-numbingly long exams, all he wants to do is think about you.

you two have become increasingly close over time, figuring out your commonalities and learning about each other's interests. you invited him to your dorm and he was amazed at your ability to dress up such a desolate space. it felt warm, inviting, and quickly became a common place for you two to spend your time together.

you also bonded over food, and would often meet up for lunches or dinners and sometimes even breakfast if you were up early enough to respond to his calls.

and you two were always studying together, you really inspired him to stay on top of his classes not only to keep up with you but to also impress you. he really admired your work ethic as a second year and would always ask for your help with assignments.

of course it was nice to have help, but he mainly just wanted you to sit closer to him, your breath hitting his cheek as you explained something complicated to him in your soft voice, pointing at the book that sat in his lap. you could read the most boring textbook to him and make it sound like the most interesting piece of literature in the world.

a lot of things he did were mostly just an excuse to have you pay attention to him in some way. if he felt a bit unwell, he'd play it up a bit to get your sympathy and a back rub. he still gets the most insane goosebumps thinking about your hands all over him.

if he was hungry, he was suddenly starvinggg and needed one of your amazing grilled cheese's made in the student common room kitchen. you would roll your eyes every time, reminding him that you don't do anything special to it, but he insists it's better because you make it specifically for him.

in short, he was head over heels for you. he pretty much knew that first day you two met that he was already smitten with you, but it took a while for him to fully realize just how deep he'd gotten himself into this.

not only had he learned your entire class schedule without asking you directly, he knew your schedule outside of class as well. not through any disrespectful tactics, he just so happened to always study at the library next to your dorm building with a perfect view of the door you go in and out of.

he also knew who all of your friends were, at least the ones he's seen you with so far. it's not difficult when the university yearbook practically gives away their books for free to get rid of them. that's also how he found out what clubs and organizations you're apart of, and knew exactly what to ask you to get you to talk about them with him.

see, some might see this and think harry's a bit creepy or overstepping some boundaries. and harry would agree.

he constantly feels guilty when it comes to his feelings for you. he's a complete gentleman when he's with you, but then he turns around and becomes this incessant stalker who needs to know what you're doing at all times.

that's not even the worst part. he feels so, so incredibly guilty about the thoughts he has of you.

harry's not one to feel shame from lust or masturbation, he doesn't have much experience with that stuff anyways so he never really understood the hype around it.

but now, things are different.

he's had random erections before, and he's gotten riled up from previous makeout sessions, but now, he was constantly horny.

all it took was an innocent look from you and he was hard. you often sat in your bed with him as you two studied and insisted on having a leg or arm touching him at all times, which made him completely hot and bothered. certain tones of voice you use or things you say to him can completely melt his brain on the spot.

this isn't meant to brag, harry felt truly awful for these one-sided thoughts. he felt like such a stereotypical man who thinks with his dick. the last thing he wanted was to make you think he saw you in a sexual way at all; he hated your stories about guys who only turned out to be sex fiends with no respect towards you. his blood boiled to think about it, actually, and swore to himself he would always be your friend first despite what he may feel towards you.

this is where the guilt was heaviest. you were constantly saying he was your best mate, one of your closest friends, someone you can really trust, and he held that so close to his heart. above all else, he cared about you so deeply. he wanted to keep you safe.

so when he started to think these thoughts or feel these feelings, harry beat himself up. how could he truly be a good friend to you if he was just so obsessed with you in every way?

you two had just finished up the last steps of your potion experiment for professor rodden's class in the library that harry frequented by your dorm building. as you and harry are talking and packing up to leave, you look out the wall of windows and laugh.

"hey, look. you can see my dorm perfectly from here." you say, pointing towards your building. harry freezes, feeling his mind go blank as you look back at him with a laugh. "little creepy," you say with a smirk, lifting your bag over your shoulder and the rest of your books in your arms.

harry is still frozen, terrified you're going to somehow figure out that that's exactly what he's been doing for the past month now.

"yeah, weird." is all he managed to get out.

as he walks you into your dorm, he barely has the door closed before you start taking your shirt off right in front of him, not even 3 feet away.

harry immediately turns around, letting the door close in front of him. "oh, sorry." he quickly mutters, his heart racing yet again. he didn't even see anything crazy, just the small of your back and the navy of your bra, but it was enough to immediately get him worked up.

he hears you laugh behind him, opening up your drawer. "you don't have to turn around, harry. i'm just changing my shirt." he can hear the smirk in your voice.

he's dumbfounded. all he's thought about for weeks is your body in front of him, and it's right here, and he can't bring himself to look. he feels each second pass by painfully slow, trying to answer himself as to why the fuck he's not turning around.

"okay, you can turn around now." you laugh as you roll your eyes at him. he slowly turns to you with an undoubtedly pale face and shocked expression.

you're standing at your drawer, new shirt fully on, and he can't help but feel a bit disappointed. he didn't want to make you uncomfortable by watching, but you seemed okay with it. he's a bit lost in his feelings before you start asking him about something completely irrelevant, taking his mind off the mini-show he just got for free.

that night he's lying in bed, room completely dark except his bedside lamp, and he's thinking of you. like always.

as he replays the moment you took your shirt off right in front of his eyes, he finds himself grabbing for his cock without even meaning to. his hand wraps around the shaft as he begins thrusting his hips, imagining it's your hand like he has so many times before. it only takes a few seconds of stroking and thinking about your blue bra before he's made a mess of himself.

cleaning up afterwards was always the most guilt-ridden part of the entire experience. it was bad enough he thought of you sexually and constantly got hard just from you looking at him or calling him a loser as a joke, but to actually jerk off to the idea of you is something else entirely.

he tried not to get too down about it, plenty of guys do this right? whats so wrong with it if it doesn't affect his relationship with you?

except, it does. harry doesn't know how much longer he can go without telling you how he feels. the guilt he feels every time you refer to him as your best friend, not knowing he spends almost every night cleaning up his own cum off his chest just from thinking about your smile. how would you feel finding out your so-called best friend had these perverted thoughts about you?

as harry falls asleep, he hugs his pillow and pretends its you, asleep in his arms, completely safe.

it's halloween, and harry's never been more excited.

you enthusiastically asked if you could do a matching costume with him, and he'd never been so quick to agree. wearing a matching costume with you to a university party was possibly the first step in becoming a real couple. he wasn't necessarily thrilled about going to a party, but he knew if he was with you he would enjoy himself no matter what.

you couldn't decide what you two should be until harry suggested pirates as a joke.

"oh my gosh, harry! that's perfect!" you said with a huge smile. harry laughed at you, shaking his head. "really? i was kidding." he deadpanned. you narrowed your eyes at him. "yes, really! i think it'd be so cute. and i have the perfect top."

harry gets excited once you say it's cute, and is just happy to be included in your plans.

you take harry shopping just a few days before the party to find pirate-like clothes and end up with a good collection of stuff. at the last minute, harry pays for everything you bought and you give him the biggest, warmest hug he's ever gotten.

yeah, that was enough for him to know this was worth it.

the night of the party, harry feels a bit ridiculous walking up to your dorm in such a billowy white button up and the most uncomfortable, oversized pants he's ever worn. to top it all off his bandana didn't look right on his head, so he embarrassingly knocked on your door and waited for your reaction to his failure of a costume.

when you opened the door, he was stunned into silence.

you were just. so. hot.

your hair was loose around your face under a perfectly tied bandana, an off-the-shoulder white top similar to his worn over a red lace bra, along with ripped fish net stockings under a tied skirt and, shit, a fucking garter wrapped around your thigh.

to say he was insanely turned on and completely stunned by your beauty was an understatement. he couldn't believe this gorgeous woman in front of him was dressed like this to match with him at a party in front of everyone. he just couldn't stop staring at you up and down, not caring if you noticed him practically drooling over you.

"you look so cute!" you exclaimed at the sight of harry standing at your door.

he looked up at you, your soft eyes wide with excitement as you clasped your hands together. you motioned for harry to come in and opened the door further for him. he slid past you into your dorm room, intentionally breathing in your scent as he did, and practically fell apart at the seams. he was so, so attracted to you right now.

"but, let me fix that bandana." you say with a giggle. he turns around and you're already reaching for his head. his breath gets caught in his throat as your arms wrap around his head, retying the bandana tightly just below his hairline. you pull away a bit and smile at him before looking down at his shirt, reaching for that as well.

harry carefully watched your fingers begin to unbutton his white shirt, his world stopping in its tracks in this moment. he was so lost until you said, "gotta show off the chest hair."

as you continue to adjust his shirt with the top buttons undone, he can't help but admire your body and outfit from this angle, this close. everything worked together so well on you, and fit you perfectly in every spot. he felt like such a joke standing next to you, who could ever compare to such a goddess like yourself?

on your way to the party just outside of campus, you felt chilly in just a skirt and cropped top. harry noticed instantly. "cold?" he asks. you nod, crossing your arms in front of your chest as you start to shiver. harry instinctively wraps an arm around you before he can even process what he's doing. "uh, is this any better?" he inquires.

you look up at him with those damn eyes, and he's lost once again. "a lot better." you say sweetly.

at the party, you stick with him for a bit until a few friends pull you away to do some shots. he gives you a reassuring smile as he tells you to go, and he watches your barely-covered ass as you run along.

and so do a few other guys.

harry notices at least 3 guys around him who watch you leave, and at least one of them makes some snide comment about you to a buddy. his blood boils like he's never felt before. he could feel himself tensing up as he imagined what he would do to them if they ever tried to touch you.

harry takes a deep breath and finds a bathroom, running some water over his face to calm down. you were not his girlfriend. not even close. but he felt like any other guy who looked at you was looking at what was his. he was there for you 24/7, he knew your favorite everything, he saw how beautiful you were in all your states, not just dressed up at some costume fraternity party, and though that gives him no right over you, he just couldn't help but feel protective over someone who means so much to him.

you find each other again at some point during the party, and you're a bit drunk. harry finds it somewhat amusing at first, but quickly hates the way those guys are looking at you again. so, he wraps your arm around his waist, tells you it's time to go home, and you mindlessly abide.

on the way home he's completely in awe at the feeling of your arm wrapped around his waist, and his around your shoulder. he felt like you looked like a proper couple, matching costumes and all, and he loved that thought.

as he walked you into your room, you immediately began stripping off your accessories. he was caught in that same predicament he found himself in not too long ago. does he casually let you unclothe in front of him or turn around and give you the privacy you deserve?

he quickly decided on the latter and turned away, making sure the door was locked for your privacy. you started giggling infectiously, stumbling around behind him. "you ok?" he asked with a smirk, amused at the sound of you struggling.

"no, need helppp," you whine, slurring your words slightly while still giggling. harry freezes. he hadn't even considered that you might be too drunk to get undressed by yourself. he's even more conflicted than before.

"m-my help?" he asked. obviously he knew the answer, he just didn't feel right taking your clothes off of you while you were intoxicated. "well duhh…" you giggled, taking another stumbling step behind him.

what should he do? if he says no you might feel like he's annoyed with you or doesn't want to help you out, when that couldn't be further from the truth.

before he can make a decision, you turned him around, his eyes landing on your glazed over eyes.

you had taken off the bandana and gotten your shirt partially off before asking harry for help. he's a bit startled to see you half dressed in front of him, but he quickly makes the decision to be professional and friendly about this situation.

he helps you take off your shirt the rest of the way, and unties your skirt around your waist. harry tries to divert his eyes as he does so to give you the most privacy possible in this moment, though his mind was pushing the most sinful thoughts he could muster.

his hands were shaky as he put both your skirt and top in the laundry, not even noticing how hard and fast his heart was beating until he took a moment to breathe.

just behind him, he hears you take a seat on your mattress. "can you take my shoesss pleaseee," you whine, sticking your left heel in the air towards harry.

the sight that beholds him in this moment is unholy.

you, practically naked except for your underwear and fishnet stockings, pointing a bright red heel at him with a pouty face as you wait for his help. he could devour you whole right here, right now. the fact that he hasn't kissed you yet tonight honestly had harry impressed with himself.

he nervously swallowed before reaching for your shoe, carefully sliding it off your foot as you gracefully lift the other leg towards him. he takes that heel as well and sets them next to your other shoes. he reaches in your closet for a big, comfy t-shirt and turns around to give it to you.

he sees you on your back, rolling around on the mattress, struggling to get your fishnets off, laughing to yourself as they get tangled on your legs. harry cant help but laugh at you as well, your carefree intoxicated state was just so adorable to him.

harry briefly helps you out of the stockings before handing you the t-shirt. "here, is this okay to sleep in?" he asks, putting the stockings on your dresser. "yeah!" you say cheerfully. "thanks, harryyy," you coo. harry immediately blushes, the way you carried out his name just made his heart sing. he was so lucky to be this close to you.

"gotta take this off," you say, pulling at the straps of your bra. harry nods and turns away. you giggle softly, grabbing for his hand. he turns to you in shock, looking down at your hand as you stand up from the bed.

"help me?" you ask seductively.

harry is frozen. are you meaning to be so overtly flirty right now? is this a bit from the alcohol? are you about to start laughing him off and put the shirt on anyway?

but you don't, you just patiently wait for his answer with puppy dog eyes. he glanced between you and the t-shirt in your hand, clearly a worried look taking over his expression.

"you don't have to," you say softly. that snaps harry out of his daze. "n-no, of course i'll help," he says eagerly. you smile again and turn around, gathering your hair to one side to get it out of the way for him.

harry has never been so aroused in his life. this is the most intimate he's ever been with anyone. he's never unclasped a bra before, and worries he's about to make a fool of himself in front of the most beautiful girl in the world.

but he soon figures it out and manages to unclasp it for you. "there you are," he assures you. you slowly turn around, your arms crossed in front of your chest as you hold the bra up. harry's completely infatuated with the delicious sight of you in front of him in this moment, but quickly diverts his gaze to an uninteresting part of the room.

"harry, do you want to see my boobs?"

harry snaps his head back at you with concern. his brows are furrowed and mouth agape. you have a genuine expression but your eyes are still a bit bloodshot.

"wh…what?" he choked out. he can't believe you asked that, even in this state. you've truly never showed interest in harry like this before, only subtle touches and looks that he interpreted how he wanted, but never anything like this.

well, unless you count the other day when you undressed near him.

but that was friendly, wasn't it? you were just changing, lots of friends change in front of each other. but this was completely different, you were purposefully exposing yourself to him. not only that, but you were asking him if you could, as if it wasn't the only thing he wanted in this moment.

"do you wanna see my boobs?" you ask again, giggling slightly.

harry blinks a few times, trying as hard as he can to not ogle over your body. this is all he's wanted, for months this is the only thing he's wanted, but right now just didn't feel right. you weren't fully aware of what you were doing or saying, and he couldn't, in good faith, continue further with this situation.

he carefully places his hands on your crossed arms, keeping them close to you as he talks.

"[y/n], you're drunk right now. and while i helped you get undressed, which was already a bit over the line, i don't want you to do something you'll regret."

you give him a look he can't quite decipher. your smile drops, your eyes focus, and your arms tense.

"i'm sorry," you say softly.

harry quickly reassures you. "don't be! seriously, don't be. i am so, so glad that you trust me enough to help you in this state. truly. it means the world to me, because i care about you so much." he gives you a warm smile.

you smile back at him. "then i hope you understand when i say i want to do this,"

you begin to pull your arms away from your chest, but harry is still holding them. he looks you in the eyes with worry, afraid of what you're about to do, yet more excited than he's been in a long time.

"but [y/n]..." he protests. "please?" you ask simply.

harry is reluctant, but he can tell you're going to be insistent, so he slowly lets go of your arms as you remove your bra from your body.

harry glances at your chest, his heart dropping. you're perfect.

perfect, perfect, perfect.

your skin looked so beautiful in the lowlight provided by your lamps and fairy lights. the curves of your boobs looked so soft and untouched. this was the first time harry was seeing tits in real life, and he was pretty sure this was the best they could possibly get.

he looks back up at your eyes, a shy smile spread across your expression. "beautiful…" harry whispers before he even realizes what he's saying.

you giggle, unfolding the shirt you handed him and swiftly pulling it over your head. "thanks, harry," you say so casually, turning around to make your bed so you can sleep in it.

he can hardly believe what's just happened. the girl of his dreams, the girl he'd practically been obsessed with for months, just willingly showed him her boobs for fun. though you were intoxicated and would most likely regret it tomorrow, hopefully not mad at him for letting it happen, he was still grateful that you felt that level of trust with him in any capacity.

what he wasn't grateful for, however, were these bloody pirate pants that gave him the most uncomfortable erection of his life. this was also definitely the hardest and most turned on he had ever been, so he's not sure if there's any comfort to be had in this moment anyway. while you focus on the bed, harry takes a step away and tries to calm himself down, thinking different thoughts to try and let the hornieness subside for just a bit longer.

as you plop into bed and begin getting comfortable, harry turns off a few lamps for you but keeps on the fairy lights in case you need the bathroom at any point.

"do you need anything before i head out, [y/n]?" he asks.

you sit up in your bed, a look of pain on your face.

"you're leaving me?"

harry is utterly heartbroken at the tone of your question. you sound so genuinely upset he immediately comes to comfort you, sitting on the edge of your mattress.

"oh, no, i-i won't if you don't want me to." he stumbles out. harry wasn't planning on staying, he was actually just imagining how good of a jerk he was about to have in 10 minutes, plus he's never technically stayed the night with you before. but he quickly pushes his perverted thoughts of you to the side and knows it's much more satisfying to him if he stays here and makes sure you're okay through the night.

you reach for the bandana that's still tied around his head and pull it off swiftly, leaving his hair disheveled. you throw it across the room with a laugh.

"sleepoverrrr" you cheer, patting the spot next to you on the bed. harry laughs with you, standing up and realizing he's still dressed as a pirate. "i didn't bring any clothes…" he says with a twinge of sadness.

you look at him confused. "you're a guy, just sleep naked." you say it like it's the most obvious thing in the world. harry is a bit stunned at this statement but quickly laughs you off, going to your drawers to look for a pair of pants. besides, he's still slightly struggling with a situation in his boxers and being naked next to you wouldn't exactly help him out.

he eventually put together a shirt and pants combo that fit him comfortably enough to sleep in. "hope you don't mind," he says as he changes into them.

"not at all," you say, watching him change in the lowlight. there's something in your voice that makes harry feel feral, an overwhelming desire to just let go and release the tension between you two. at least, the tension he thinks is there.

he quickly gets dressed, setting his pirate clothes and glasses on your dresser as the sleep begins to settle into his bones. he crawls into bed next to you, and is quickly invited to join you under the covers. he's a bit reluctant at first, but realizes he doesn't have much of a choice as he starts getting cold.

within a few minutes of saying goodnight to each other, you and harry drift off to sleep together.

you're the first one awake, a splitting headache and dry mouth creating an unpleasant feeling immediately after opening your eyes. you rub the sleep away from them and reach for a glass of water on the nightstand next to you, sitting up a bit to sip slowly.

"good morning," a deep voice rumbles just beside you. you instinctively jump a bit before your brain quickly recognizes harry's tone and accent. as you turn to him, he's adorably disheveled wearing one of your university crewnecks under your blanket.

he smiles at you. he looks so different without his glasses on.

"morning, harry," you say groggily. the moment doesn't last long before another wave of your headache hits you, causing you to rub your forehead. you groan in pain. "what happened last night?"

harry's a bit frozen. this is exactly what he was afraid was going to happen. you don't remember anything from last night. he should've just dropped you off here and left right away, not even letting there be a chance of anything happening.

he's brought out of his thoughts when you look back down at him, a look of curiosity in your eyes as you continue to rub your head.

harry also sits up a bit before climbing out of bed, putting his glasses on from the top of your dresser.

"well…" he starts out nervously, scratching his head. "we went to the party," he says as he begins to stretch his back out.

"oh yeah, the party. we were definitely the best costumes there." you recall the night fondly. harry laughs nervously, worried about how you're going to react when you find out he undressed you and even saw you nearly completely naked in such an intoxicated state.

"right, yeah, of course." harry chuckles dryly. "but, um…at some point you left me and started drinking, so we didn't stay for long." he says carefully, his mind racing as he slowly, nervously paces between your bed and your dresser.

"classic," you chuckle, reaching for a hairbrush as you begin to comb through your knotty hair. "thanks for bringing me home, harry," you smile at him.

the guilt twists in his stomach like a knife, he can't believe how innocent you are. but he also can't believe what happened between you two last night, and just how eager you seemed for it to happen. he has to stop thinking about it before he gets turned on again.

"of course, [y/n], but, um…" he takes a deep breath before he continues. "you look cute in my jumper, by the way," you interrupt him, standing up from your bed as you begin to collect toiletries to take a shower.

his brain fogs from the compliment, but doesn't let it distract him from what he knows he has to tell you.

"well, thank you, but, um…" harry says with a blush.

you give him a confused look. "what's up?" you ask him. he's just going to come right out and say it.

"look, [y/n], i don't know if you remember, but…you asked me to help you get undressed last night because you were too drunk," he spits out, trying to immediately gauge your reaction before continuing. you just give him an even more confused look. "oh, well, thank you then. is that okay?" you ask incredulously.

harry stiffens. "yeah, um…i didn't mind helping, of course, it's just…" you giggle, opening the door to your en suite bathroom that's barely bigger than the shower within it. "harry, you're such a dork. do you actually feel bad for taking care of me when i was drunk?" you ask sarcastically as you set down various lotions and hair products onto the sink.

he cracks a small smile at you calling him a dork, but it doesn't last long. his heart settles a bit after hearing your positive outlook on the situation so far, but it doesn't stop completely.

"it's not that, um…but, uh, afterwards, you, well, kind of…" he awkwardly tried to find the words.

"you…showed me your boobs." not the most eloquent way of putting it.

your face goes pale. his stomach drops immediately.

"n-not by my request or anything!" he quickly reassures you (and himself). "it's just, i told you you might regret it, but you were insisting on doing it anyways…" he doesn't want to feel like he's blaming you when he was the sober one in charge.

"oh…" you say despondent, seeming lost in your thoughts as you search his expression. he gives you a moment to process what he's said. "yeah…" is all he manages to say.

you sigh. "i'm sorry, harry. it was wrong of me to force that on you." your apology is so sincere, and it immediately confused harry. force that on him? bloody hell. you really had no memory of just how much he enjoyed himself in that moment. harry's sure he looked like a kid at a candy shop just staring at your beautiful body in the warm light.

"what? no! i-i'm sorry i let that happen," he responds with a ridiculous tone. "i was the sober one, i should've tried harder to–""to what? stop a drunk girl from showing her tits? yeah, good luck with that one." you laugh, cracking a joke.

harry's nerves are much more calm. he's insanely grateful that you seem to be taking this news well and aren't angry with him.

"look, harry…" you start, adjusting your shirt around your shoulders. harry's been stealing glances of your delicious thighs and legs every so often as you talked.

"i'm really grateful for you. just in general, but for last night especially. you helped me out, and you were a complete gentleman, at least from what i can remember…" you joke with him. he cracks a smile too.

"so don't stress about it, yeah?"

harry lets out a breath of relief, physically feeling the weight of the situation lift from his shoulders. "yeah, of course. i'm really grateful you trust me like that." he's in awe of your grace in this moment.

you smile, stepping over to the laundry next to your dresser. you grab a shirt and some pants from your closet, and, before harry even realizes what you're doing, you drop your underwear you were wearing last night to your ankles, stepping out of them and walking towards the bathroom again.

"gonna shower for a bit," you inform him as you close the door behind yourself.

harry's left behind, staring at the door before returning his gaze to your panties.

they're red, much like your bra from last night, and he remembers taking note of them to keep in his fantasies later for accuracy. but now, here they were, just laying right in front of him.

he finds himself still staring at them when he hears you turn the shower on and step inside, closing the sliding glass door behind you. he looks at the door, and looks back at your panties.

for a while he just looks at them incredulously, not entirely sure why this specific detail has made him so irrationally horny. you were completely naked on just the other side of this wall, but he's practically mesmerized by the image of you casually sliding your red panties down your legs right in front of him like it wasn't the most erotic thing he's ever witnessed in his whole life.

before he knows it, the shower turns off. he's still left staring at your red panties. as he shifts his weight, he can see that they're a bit wet and slick in the light from you wearing them all night.

he can't take it anymore. his erection from last night has returned with a vengeance this morning. before harry could even realize what he's doing, he's picked up your underwear carefully, holding them between his fingers, your wetness still soaking through the cotton.

his heart is racing as he hears you brushing your teeth. what is he doing? if you caught him being perverted with your panties like this after just reassuring him that he wasn't in the wrong for what happened last night, he'd surely be on your bad side. but he can't stop himself.

he brings them to his face and takes a slow, deep inhale.

you smell completely divine. slightly sweet, slightly bitter. he gets goosebumps just thinking about how you must really smell. his erection is raging beneath your sweatpants he put on last night, feeling incredibly dirty from being so turned on by your used panties.

his stolen pleasure is too quickly interrupted by the sound of the bathroom doorknob jiggling. shit. as you're about to open the door, harry panics and shoves your panties into the pocket of his sweatpants.

you come out with freshly damp hair and raw skin. the wonderful smell of your shower products fill the room as you brush through your hair casually.

harry keeps a hand in his pocket over the panties so you don't have the chance of catching him, and to better conceal the raging boner that's not going away anytime soon.

you don't say anything as you place your toiletries back in their rightful spots, humming to yourself as you comb through your hair occasionally.

so casually beautiful, so effortlessly pristine. you amazed him every time with just how ethereal you could be at any given moment. a freshly clean angel fluttering around the room without a care in the world.

you begin complaining of your hangover headache and ask harry to get food with you. he's more than willing, his stomach already growling in response for him.

at breakfast, you sit in silence with harry as you both hungrily devour the pancakes you ordered. harry got you two glasses of orange juice to keep you hydrated after last night.

after a while, you inform him you have to go study, and he offers to help you. "thanks, but i can't be distracted. this exam is going to kick my ass." you complained to him. harry gave you a look. "i distract you?"

you laugh at him, leaving him at the lunch hall with a simple, "goodbye, harry. call me later."

when harry gets to his dorm room, he realizes he's still wearing your clothes. and, shit, he's still got your panties in his pocket.

harry slowly reaches for them, feeling a twinge of guilt and lust once his hand finds the fabric. pulling them out, he's in shock that he actually stole a pair of your panties. to be fair he didn't intend to, he just panicked and wasn't thinking straight.

but, now that he has them…

keeping the red lace hanging from his fingers, harry climbs into bed and begins to remember those unforgettable moments with you just the night prior. it doesn't take much to get him just as riled up as before, imagining the moments he was undressing you in slow motion. taking your heels off as you looked up at him with the most seductive eyes in the world. seeing the flesh of your breasts for the first time in the dim lighting, imagining how they'd feel in his rough hands. god, he feels so bad finding pleasure in these moments, but he physically can't resist it.

his hand is already wrapped around the base of his cock, stroking slowly as to savor the memories flashing through his brain. he's been aching for this release since seeing you in your costume last night, just another memory that brings him closer to the edge.

finally, he slowly brings your panties to his face. though they've since dried in his pocket during breakfast and the walk home, the lingering smell is still enough to drive him wild. he's breathing them in like it's oxygen and he's drowning.

just as he's nearing the end, he brings the panties to his other hand and begins stroking his cock with them. the sight alone is enough to break him, his cum spilling onto his hand and all over your red panties as images of your half naked body continue to infest his brain.

this time, the immediate guilt was the worst it'd ever been.

as he began to clean up, he realized just how much he ruined your panties in his excitement. his cum had soaked through the thin fabric and was already drying around it. he cursed himself for ruining such a sacred momento that he should've cherished, but also quickly cursed himself for thinking that way about you in the first place.

you even said yourself that harry was being a perfect gentleman last night. yeah, a gentleman with a raging erection the entire night who steals your used panties for his sick pleasure…

he continues to clean himself up, putting your panties in a safe place where nobody can find them and he won't lose them. even just the thought of them being in his possession was enough to get him riled up again.

it's the stressful time between thanksgiving and christmas where school has the two of you completely spread thin. harry's constantly writing essays while you seem to have endless lab experiments to finish for other classes. the one saving grace is your potions class together, twice a week. it's what kept harry sane during this chaotic time.

spending even just this short hour and 15 minutes with you is enough to fulfill harry. he hasn't properly hung out with you in nearly two weeks and was missing you like he was withdrawing.

sitting close to you to copy some notes about the potion you two are working on, harry admires your handwriting for the millionth time since he's met you. "i just don't understand how you write so well, i can barely read my own," harry jokes, holding out his notebook, making you laugh and blush.

the potion you're working on is one that allows the consumer to communicate with animals for a short period of time. it's rather complex, but harry helps you keep things organized and encourages you when you get frustrated.

"i just don't get it, how is it 3 drops and not 6? i swear it was 6 last week…" you groan, looking through your notes as you set down the tincture, rubbing your face, exasperated.

harry sets a reassuring hand on your arm. he's gotten pretty good at being more physical with you, and isn't afraid to touch you casually like you always have with him. "hey, [y/n], it's okay," he tells you, catching your eyes with his. "it's been a stressful week, yeah? just a mistake, no big deal."

you give harry that same, warm smile you delivered on your first day meeting him. he often looks back at that day fondly, forever grateful he got the sudden courage to talk to you after this class. not only were you now his closest friend, you were also the light of his life.

as harry finishes up, he hands you the round vial full of luminescent, purple potion. "here you are, test it out."

you take a small swig of it just as professor rodden makes his way to your and harry's table. next to the table is a bird's cage on a hook, with a sweet owl inside named jewel.

you make eye contact with the owl, and begin to speak. to you and everyone else it just sounds like regular english, but the owl begins to hoot and flap its wings at you immediately.

"hello, jewel, how are we feeling today?" you coo.

amazing, incredible, unbelievable! jewel's hoots become intelligible to your ear as you practically jump up and down with a huge smile on your face. "it worked, it worked!" you announced to harry, instinctively jumping in his arms for a hug as he spins you around excitedly.

"yes! you did it! see, i knew you could." harry exclaims, setting you down and giving you a toothy grin.

you look at jewel again, who is turning her head at you every which way. how nice, you and the boy! how sweet indeed! her loud hoots make the class silent as they watch you interact with her.

"what's she saying?" harry asks curiously. you give him a shy smile, feeling your face turn red. "she likes us." you're not totally lying.

"well, ms. [y/l/n], i must tell you i'm quite impressed. not just at how quickly you two perfected this potion, but of your performance this semester overall." professor rodden compliments you. he turns to harry. "i see mr. potter has been a positive influence on you this year."

harry quickly shuts him down. "actually, sir, if you don't mind me speaking out of turn, [y/n] has helped me way more this semester than i've helped her. she's brilliant."

professor rodden turns to you, a pale face and shocked expression, and gives you a smile. "well, then, hat's off to you, ms. [y/l/n]." he says, bowing to you before continuing with his rounds in the classroom. "thank you, professor rodden."

after class, you're all over harry, resting your head on him, hugging him, touching him randomly, but he's not complaining of course. he feels lucky enough that you're so comfortable around him as to be touchy feely.

"thank you, by the way. for what you said to rodden." you thank him as you two walk into your dorm room. harry takes his usual seat at your computer desk. "of course, i wasn't about to let that wanker give me credit for all of your hard work." harry says, laughing. he's become so much more confident with you, even using your lingo in his own vocabulary.

"no, really, thank you. just, for everything." you smile at him. "you're the best friend i could ever ask for."

harry feels his smile slightly falter. he's always reminded that that's all you are is friends, and while he's insanely grateful for your friendship, probably more than anything else in his life, he just can't help but feel a bit lost at this point. he's insanely attracted to you, ferociously protective over you, and, yet, can't bring himself to tell you any of this.

"you're welcome, [y/n], but if anything i should be thanking you. you don't even know how much you've helped me, not just with school but with everything. you're, like, the only friend i have at this point." harry laughs, but it's true. he's tried to make friends in other classes this year but has been disappointed each time, they're just not you.

you give harry a sad smile. "that's not true, ron and hermione are still your friends. more than that, they're practically your family." you walk over to him and run your hand through his hair, something you know he loves. he looks up at you slightly through his eyelashes.

"hermione's right, they'll come back to you one day. just give it some time, yeah?"

harry melts into your touch. nobody can settle his mind like you do. he didn't exactly look for pity from people, but you were someone he felt so safe with that he could be completely vulnerable in front of you. the reassurance and love that you provided him in these moments healed him in a way he didn't understand.

"right," he sighs, giving you the same sad smile.

you whine and pull his head into your chest, resting your own head on top of his. "awh, i hate seeing you so sad." you say sympathetically, still running your fingers through the back of his hair.

if harry's being completely honest, he's not sad at all anymore. how could he feel anything but pure bliss with his head buried in your sweater and your fingers leaving goosebumps throughout his scalp? he leans into you like a dog being pet, so desperate for your touch.

you stay like that with him for a while, just enjoying each other's company. harry found solace in your heartbeat, feeling truly at peace for the first time in weeks. "i've missed you." harry practically moans, intoxicated by your warm scent, his eyes fluttering closed.

you hum, smiling softly to yourself, feeling harry practically melt into your arms. "missed you too, harry," you coo, enjoying the feeling of being together.

"the semester's almost over, then it's christmas." you remind him, lifting your head as you look down at his closed eyes. he looks so peaceful resting against you.

harry smiles. almost christmas. but more importantly, almost your birthday.

harry very vividly remembers a conversation he had with you towards the beginning of your friendship about birthdays and how neither of you particularly enjoyed them.

your birthday fell close to christmas, so, inevitably, it became synonymous with christmas growing up. never really getting a separate party or separate presents, you learned to not expect much the actual day of, and to rather wait for christmas so you could be celebrated on the side.

harry was having none of this. he thinks you forgot about the conversation with him completely, but he's thought about it constantly since then. he's been planning on giving you a special birthday on your actual birthday this year, and he's practically dying to tell you. but he doesn't, and he won't, because it has to be a complete surprise.

"hm. christmas." is all he says, tilting his head back to look up at you. from every angle he finds you so fascinating, you just get prettier and prettier the more he truly looks at you.

you're gazing at him so gently, so warmly, your hand practically cradling his head against you. harry blinks and you're suddenly leaning forward, planting a soft kiss against his forehead.

harry could've died happy at that moment.

he brings his head away from your chest as you step away, soft smile and blushing cheeks. watching you turn and start folding laundry mindlessly, harry feels the lingering kiss tingling his skin.

for a brief moment, he imagines himself coming up to you from behind, wrapping his arms around you, kissing your neck, feeling you, pushing you to the bed…

harry quickly shakes his head, grinding his teeth at the horny urges he gets at the most simple actions. what other boys in university get an erection so quickly from a forehead kiss? sometimes harry felt like such a loser, not just with you, but with sex in general.

he never thought about it much before you, so it's not something he knows a lot about. he'd masturbated before, but not as often as he does now, or in the same way. usually he thought about making out with someone, maybe touching them, but now…he just felt so dirty, the things that his brain creates about you.

once you finish the laundry, you ask for his help to put stuff away. he's done this for you many times before, so he knows where you like everything to be.

he hangs up a few shirts and puts away some jeans and socks. he turns around to see you handing him a pile of your panties loosely stacked together. "here," you say as you're turned the other way, gathering another pile of clothes with your other arm.

harry is frozen for a second before reluctantly taking the underwear from you, immediately feeling his face flush.

he's instantly reminded of your panties sitting in his room right now. the panties he stole. the panties he masturbated with.

he's since washed them and keeps them out of guilt, partially, but he's not quite sure how to subtly return them to you. not like he wants to anytime soon.

as harry turns around and opens the drawer you put your panties in, he takes his time so he can admire all the different pairs in his hand. pinks, purples, reds, neutrals, blacks, he was practically holding a goldmine. it almost made him chuckle, the irony of you asking him to put these away.

he neatly tucks them into the drawer, admiring them one last time before slowly closing it.

for the first time that month, you and harry actually have the freetime to leave campus and get food together. your favorite diner is open all night and serves the best milkshakes either of you have ever had.

"how are we splitting the checks?" the older waitress asks, eyeing harry up and down. before you can say anything he tells her just one, handing her his card out of nowhere.

as she walks away you give him an evil look. "you don't always have to pay for everything, y'know? i'm perfectly capable of paying for myself or the both of us." you tease him. he smiles. "i know." he states simply.

you finish your milkshakes within minutes, handing your cherry to harry like you do every time. "cherry for harry," you always say. it always gets a smile out of him.

after a few minutes of chatting alone in the diner, the bell at the front door rings. you get a big smile across your face as you stand from the booth. "thomas?" you ask.

harry turns around to see a man in a quidditch uniform, his hair sweaty and book bag full to the brim. he's carrying his broomstick around, like a total tool if you ask harry, and gives you the cheekiest smile possible.

"[y/n]?" he asks.

harry could've killed him just for saying your name the way he did. like a predator hunting its prey again.

harry's anger immediately worsened when you practically jumped on this guy to give him a hug. nothing like the hug you gave harry in class today, he wants to note.

harry stood up, causing the guy to look at him. he had a scar as well, one from quidditch harry would assume. a slash across his left eye, healed but still somewhat recent.

you look back at harry as well, smiling at him. "harry, this is thomas." you introduce them.

yeah, he picked up on that. harry's face was red from anger.

he reluctantly steps forward, offering his hand to the douchebag who still kept a light hand on your shoulder. harry wanted to break his wrist when he went in for the handshake, but instead he offered a polite, "harry. nice to meet you."

the guy, thomas, gives a half smirk. "harry potter." he states matter-of-factly.

harry was sure his anger was visible at this point. it was enough that this guy was touching you and clearly had a past with you, but for him to pull the boy who lived card on him in front of you was enough to make his fists ball up.

"that's me." he says, his tone dripping in sarcasm.

there's an awkward moment of silence as harry continues to stare thomas down.

"so. how do you two know each other?" harry asks you, his tone and gaze softening just looking at you.

"oh! um…" you start nervously.

"we dated back in high school." thomas finishes for you.

of fucking course you did, harry thinks.

"yeah…for, like, 2 months…" you awkwardly laugh off, clearly not the most comfortable discussing this in front of harry.

thomas laughs with you as the waitress hands him a to-go box. "well, i'll see you guys around," he says as he hikes up his bookbag. "it was nice to see you again, [y/n]."

if looks could kill, this guy would've been dead long before he left out the door. harry knew he was visibly upset when you looked over at him.

"you okay harry?" you ask with a laugh.

he breaks, looking at you with a smile as he loosens his tight muscles. "sorry, i'm fine," he says.

as you both put your coats on to walk home, harry can't help but replay the interaction in his head. "dated…in high school…" "yeah…for, like, 2 months…"

harry's mind was swimming as you left the diner with him, walking into a light snow. "wow," you sigh, looking around you. harry looks up. it's beautiful out. the snow gives everything a light, soft look under the street lamps. he looks down at you and smiles at you admiring the scenery.

sometimes it scares harry how jealous he gets when it comes to you, and how quickly it can happen. that guy did nothing but say your name and give you a 2 second hug, and he actually dated you, so what right does harry have to get upset as just your friend? but all he can think about on the walk to your dorm is pummeling this guy's stupid face into the ground.

harry hadn't told you yet, but he had actually been going to the gym lately with all the time he had spent away from you during the busy school weeks. nothing too intense, he actually focused on boxing and lifting specifically because he wanted to be better prepared to protect you in case anything happened to you. and for self defense reasons, of course, but mainly for your benefit. he would do anything for you.

upon arriving at your dorm, you plop onto your mattress with a groan. "too much milkshake," you whine.

harry chuckles at you, shaking the snow out of his hair. "i told you not to get the large." he smirks. you frown at him, making him laugh again. "it's not funny! and you're wrong, i deserved a large after this month." you protest.

he laughs you off again, taking a peek at your alarm clock next to your bed. his eyes widen. "bloody hell, since when was it half past 11?" he asks astounded.

you laugh at his shock. "time flies when you're havin' fun,"

harry rubs his eyes. "if i don't leave now i won't get enough sleep to make it to my 9 a.m." he groans, not wanting his time with you to end yet again.

"nooo," you whine, clearly wanting the same. he gives you a sad look at your tone. "stay?" you ask.

harry's a bit taken aback. he hasn't stayed the night since the halloween party. thinking about that night for even a split second makes him break a sweat. it's his most replayed memory. he could even call it his sexual awakening at the ripe age of 19.

"stay? are you sure?" harry asks. you immediately nod your head, smiling at him. he can't say no to you, and he doesn't want to. he has no reason to leave, anything he needs is already here.

"well, if you insist." he smirks. you roll your eyes, taking off your jacket and hat and setting them in your closet. "i only insist because that snow is turning into a storm." you reply. you're not wrong, harry would've had to walk for 15 minutes through heavier and heavier snowfall, not to mention the windchill.

"well, thank you." he says. you smile back at him before reaching to take your shirt off. harry's seen you in multiple states of undress since the halloween party, so it's not uncommon for you to just change at any point during your conversations.

but that didn't make it any less pleasurable for harry.

sometimes he just sat back and watched like it was a personal show just for him. he would memorize the shape of your back and, shit, the curve of your ass. he watched as you pulled down your jeans, left in nothing but a bra and panties. he tried not to stare but it was impossible to look away for too long, your ass was just perfect to him.

before too long you unclasped the bra hooks behind your back and let the black fabric fall into the laundry. you slipped on a big t-shirt, your favorite thing to wear to bed, and harry caught just the slightest glimpse of your tits from behind you.

as you turned around, harry quickly began taking off his wet, snow covered converse to appear as though he wasn't just observing you like his own personal dirty magazine.

when he looked up, you were handing him some clothes to change into. he thanked you, grabbing them as he took off his jeans and sweatshirt. harry had also learned to be more comfortable changing around you, even if it wasn't as often.

harry put on the sweatpants and fresh pair of socks before realizing you hadn't given him a shirt. he looked over at you and you were already staring at him.

"harry, have you been working out?"

his face flushed, feeling exposed with just a pair of sweatpants on his hips. you were looking at his body with an expression of shock and amusement.

"u-um, yeah, a bit…just between classes, get some stress out." he's not entirely lying, but he could never tell you the real reason.

you smile at him, but a different smile than normal. you're almost…nervous? you've never been nervous around harry, even when you two first met.

"you look…good…" you say with a slight crack in your voice, still looking at him. harry can feel his blood pumping, and he knows that can only lead to an eventual erection, so he turns around casually pretending to fold his jeans. "oh, thanks," he tries to say casually.

he can still feel your eyes on him as he hangs his sweatshirt on your coat rack. "damn, harry. you're like…ripped." you say with genuine shock in your voice.

harry turns towards you, but you're fixated on his exposed torso. he nervously laughs, not sure how to respond. of course he thought getting stronger would mean his body would inevitably look better, but he cared more about his ability to fight off any creeps he needed to in order to keep you safe. however, he hadn't necessarily considered your reaction to his transformation. he had somewhat forgotten you also saw him change his clothes that halloween night. he thought you had forgotten too.

"i don't know about that," he laughs awkwardly.

you just giggle and look away, shaking your head. you climb into bed and invite him next to you. harry accepts and joins you beneath the covers, turning off a lamp beside him.

after a few moments of silence, harry could hear your shallow, even breaths indicating you're asleep. he looked down at you, peaceful, beautiful. he sat up as gently as possible and placed a soft kiss to your forehead. "goodnight, [y/n]."

it was finally your birthday.

harry had been planning this day for weeks. he made sure to ask you way ahead of schedule when you would be seeing family so he could time everything perfectly.

he had completely set up your room to look like a birthday party for a kid. balloons, streamers, a birthday cake and ice cream, presents, even fun plates and napkins.

you should be coming home from going out to eat with your parents for brunch in about 10 minutes. harry made sure to call you before you left early in the morning to be the first to wish you a happy birthday.

as he was waiting for you to arrive, he made sure everything was perfect, down to the last balloon. he had put your favorite cd on and even lit a candle. he's not quite sure why, he just felt like it was right.

soon enough, he could hear your keys on the other side of your door letting yourself in, so harry positioned himself beside your bed and waited eagerly for the reaction he'd been thinking about for months.

when you open the door, you're a bit startled to see him at first. "surprise!" he says with a suppressed smile, trying to contain his excitement.

your eyes slowly examine the room, your jaw dropping as you bring a hand to your heart. "harry…" you choke out in a small voice, still noticing different details around you as the door closes behind you.

"happy birthday." he says lovingly, taking in every second of your realization.

"you…how did you…" you can't even get the words out as you set down your purse and coat on your bed next to your presents from harry.

"i've been planning this for weeks. i wanted to give you the birthday you never had." he tells you.

you look at him with tears in your eyes, quickly looking away and towards your dresser. "you got me a cake…" you say tearfully, walking up to the custom cake he had placed an order for an entire week ago.

"we also have reservations for the diner at 5. if you'd join me, of course." harry smirks. you chuckle at him, jumping in his arms and enveloping him in a hug. "thank you…" you begin to cry into his shoulder.

harry holds you tight, dazed from your scent and enjoying the softness of your hair. he rubs your back softly as you get the tears out, letting you know it's okay.

you pull away, wiping your tears as you laugh at yourself. "sorry, i just…this is so amazing of you harry."

"don't be sorry. i'm glad you love it." he reassures you, making you smile. "let's have some cake, hm?"

after some cake and ice cream as well as messing with the balloons and party favors, it was time for harry's favorite part. the presents.

he sat you both down on your bed and savored each reaction you had to each present. every thank you was followed by, "how did you know i wanted this?" "how much was this?" "how did you get this?"

harry had his ways. and again, he would do anything for you.

his last present for you, though, was the most important. he kept it beside him until the very end, handing it to you with a shy smile. you lifted the lid off the box to reveal a beautiful necklace, one he saw you looking at multiple times while out shopping with you.

you were speechless. you looked at harry with the most genuine expression of shock, gratitude, and confusion. "harry…" you gasp. "you got this for me?" you ask.

harry chuckles. "do you like it?" he asks, already knowing the answer.

"harry…you really shouldn't have…" you tell him, staring at the necklace in your lap. he smiles even bigger, the look on your face was already enough to convince him it was worth it. it was all worth it. "here, i'll put it on you."

you hand harry the necklace, turning and scooting towards him as you hold your hair to the side for him. he's immediately reminded of the night he helped you take your bra off.

he clasps the necklace together and you turn towards him, looking down at it with him. "wow, it looks great." he says with a smile.

you look up at him, your faces nearly touching. harry can barely process your beauty before you lean in for a soft kiss against his lips.

harry's completely frozen, not knowing what to do or what's even happening.

when you pull back, harry can barely breathe.

you look up at him, your eyes soft and eager. harry can't hold himself back anymore. you've kissed him first, that's all the permission he needs for now.

he lightly grabs the back of your head and pulls you in for a bigger, deeper kiss. soon enough, you're making out with harry in your bed.

he's a bit rusty when it comes to kissing, but he plays it safe with you and keeps it soft and light. your hands have traveled to harry's neck and hair, pulling him closer to you.

after a minute or so, harry pulls away. "i love you, [y/n]." he admits. he just couldn't keep it in for much longer.

your eyes light up, a shy smile on your lips as you read his expression. "oh, harry. i love you, too." you reply breathlessly.

the kissing becomes more and more heated as you eventually push harry back onto your pillows. he's surprised, and completely aroused, trying to ignore his growing erection from simply kissing you.

you climb on top of him, the visual making harry sweat already. as you lean in to continue the kiss, your legs end up on either side of him, straddling his torso.

harry is at a loss. he never imagined his birthday surprise for you would end like this. did you really mean you loved him? like, loved loved him?

his hands went to your hips, savoring the feeling of your weight on top of him, his pants becoming more and more uncomfortable. eventually, he can feel your hips slowly rock back and forth on his lap.

he pulls away from the kiss, looking at you above him with wonder. it was everything he could've imagined. even better than the constant fantasies he had of you.

"is this okay?" you ask him softly, searching his eyes, grinding your hips into his a bit slower than before.

harry looks at you incredulously. "[y/n], this is all i've wanted for so long. please. use me." the desperation in his voice surprises him, he knew he wanted you this bad but he couldn't believe how quickly you had him begging.

you practically moaned at his desperate request. "fuck," you whisper as you go in for another kiss.

harry guides your hips into his, and he's sure you can feel just how hard he is through his jeans. you're softly moaning into the kiss, stopping to catch your breath every so often as harry slightly thrusts his hips into you, desperate for more.

"oh, harry…" you moan, causing his eyes to roll in ecstasy. for so long he imagined how you'd sound moaning his name just for him, and he's more than happy with the real thing.

"you're so beautiful, darling," harry says, reaching for your flushed cheek.

you whimper at his voice, tangling a hand in his hair. "tell me again." you demand him.

shit. harry could seriously cum just from that. he's doing everything he can to keep this going as long as possible, but he's not sure how much longer he'll last under you.

"beautiful. so, so beautiful." he says between heavy breaths, watching your incredible body grind onto him for pleasure. "you have no idea how badly i've needed you," he looks back into your eyes, half shut with pleasure as you continue to blush.

"touch me." you tell him, putting your hair behind your shoulders. he looks up at you slowly moving up and down on his lap. he could watch you do this for hours. a dream come true.

one hand slowly makes its way towards your tits, massaging one through your clothes. harry's head rolls back in pleasure, hardly believing this was his real life. involuntary moans slip through his lips as you continue to dry hump him.

"fuck, harry…" you whimper, kissing him again. he can feel the necklace he got you against his hand as he continue to feel your tits. everything about this was perfect. as far as he was concerned, right now, in this moment, you were his and only his.

"i-i…i think i'm gonna cum…" you tell him between kissing. his hands grip you tighter, all he wants to do is please you, be the reason for your ecstasy.

"please, [y/n], please cum for me," he begs of you, feeling his own body tipping over the edge. you look him in the eyes, your hand on his cheek as your breathing gets more rapid and uneven.

you're whimpering, desperately grinding for relief on harry's jeans as he feels himself about to cum. "harry, please…" you beg.

harry slightly thrusts into you, meeting your rhythm as he pulls you closer to him. you begin to shake in his grip, your eyes and jaw going lax as your whimpers become breathless. your hand finds one of his and interlocks your fingers together. you squeeze his hand as you ride out your high. he's completely enthralled with your face and body's reaction to him. he could be here forever, letting you use his body for pleasure, and he would hurt anyone who tried to stop him.

as you start to come down from your climax, harry gently pulls you in for a weak kiss. you crawl beside him, hiding your face in his chest as you continue to catch your breath.

"that was…so hot…" you manage to say between breaths. harry laughs softly, his hands finding your waist as he pulls you closer to him, placing a kiss on your head. "you're amazing." is all he can say.

"so…did you…?" you shyly start to ask. "yes. i came in my pants." harry admits, hiding his face in your hair. you can't help but laugh a bit, looking down at his jeans. he looks down and sees a dark spot near the zipper.

"oh." you say, clearly amused. "how couldn't i? i had the most beautiful woman in the world orgasming on my lap." harry smirks.

you hide your face in his chest again, giggling. you look up at him with dilated eyes, flushed cheeks, and sore lips in a small smile. "i really do love you, harry," you speak softly.

"i love you too, [y/n]."

it's the day after christmas, and you and harry had spent the holiday with your family. he loved your parents, and got on well with your siblings. he had even rented a room at a local inn near the area for you two to stay in. a private place to escape the chaos and have some alone time.

you and harry were practically all over each other all the time at this point. he couldn't help himself, all he ever wanted was to kiss you and now he could, whenever he wanted, and he was going to take advantage of that.

it was your last day at the inn, a cozy cottage type place with the softest beds you've ever slept in, and harry paid for all of it before you even knew about it. "merry christmas," he had told you.

you were eating your complimentary breakfasts together in silence, across from each other at the little table in the corner of the room.

"thank you, again, harry. this was a wonderful idea." you said as you finished your orange juice, admiring the snowfall out of the window. "it's so beautiful here."

"you're beautiful."

you give harry a look, but crack a smile. "and you're cheesy."

harry chuckles, admiring you like he always does. his soft eyes and kind smile give you butterflies.

as you're packing your clothes to get ready to leave, harry comes up behind you and wraps his arms around you. you smile, giggling, continuing to pack your suitcase. his lips end up on your neck, but you ignore him as you put your panties inside the bag.

harry laughs to himself. you look over at him. "what?" you ask with a smile. he's blushing, shaking his head. "nothing, nothing." he continues to laugh.

"tell me," you say. he shakes his head again. "no, its…it's weird." he says. you can hear a bit of shame in his voice as he hides his face in your neck again. "harry, tell me. please?"

he can't resist when you ask nicely.

he sighs, taking a step away from you and sitting on the bed next to your suitcase. "well…" he starts, rubbing his face nervously. "um, after the halloween party…" he trails off.

"yes…?" you ask, amused at his shy demeanor.

"u-uh, the morning after, when you took a shower…" harry recalls, shifting his weight. "i may have, um…stolen your underwear you took off in front of me…." he cringes at his words, turning his head away from you.

"i knew it!" you declared, pushing his shoulder.

harry covered his face completely, feeling like he could burst into tears at any moment from the embarrassment.

"god, that's so bloody hot, harry," you practically moan, pushing his arms to the side and sitting in his lap. he's completely red in the face, bewildered by your reaction.

"wh…what?" he asks breathlessly.

you hold his face in your hands, admiring his shy expression as you sink into him. "you don't find that weird? or creepy? or extremely perverted?" harry asks you incredulously.

you giggle at him, your eyes full of love. "yes, harry, stealing my used panties behind my back is very perverted. if you did that to any other girl they may find it really disturbing." harry's heart drops, his eyes focused on you completely. "but, i like you. i've really liked you for a long time. and…i find it so fucking hot just how desperate you were for me…"

harry's heart is immediately pumping at your words. you wrap your arms around his neck as you force a kiss on him, his hands grabbing your waist with a hunger.

after a moment he pulls back, nervously blinking and clearing his throat. "um, that's not all, though," he says regretfully. you give him a curious look. "i might've, um…used the panties to masturbate…" he admits.

you smile at his nervousness, biting your lip and giving him a desperate look. "oh, harry, tell me what it was like…" you moan as you begin kissing his neck.

harry's voice is caught, his head rolling back in pure bliss. sometimes he still can't believe this is real life.

you continue to bite at his neck, leaving marks as harry tries to find the words. "i, um…" his hand travels to your ass. "well, i smelled them first…" you moan against his skin, your legs tightening around him. "go on…" you say with a smile.

harry's trying to focus on the story without getting distracted by your lips. "they smelled so good, and you almost caught me, so i put them in my pocket," harry fights back a moan.

"so naughty," you tease him, pushing him onto his back. "tell me more." you demand.

harry nervously swallows at the sight of you above him. you hadn't done anything since your birthday just a few days previous, but it was all harry could think about. he missed the feeling of you being above him, using him, telling him what to do.

"when i got home, i immediately started jerking off thinking about undressing you, seeing your tits for the first time, smelling your panties, i felt so dirty because you told me i was such a gentleman that night…" harry rambles. something about revealing his perverted obsession with you as you're on his lap makes his erection harden.

he grabs for your thighs, sighing at how heavenly they feel in his hands. "then, i just…wrapped your panties around my dick…and i came on them, almost instantly…" harry reveals, the embarrassment fueling his lust.

you're practically aching for harry listening to his story, watching him become desperate for you once again. he's falling apart in your hands and you just can't get enough of it.

"god, harry, that's so hot…you were so obsessed with me…" you say as you lean into his lips, your bodies entangled on the bed.

harry pulls away, holding your face in his hands gently. "i still am, [y/n]." he says sincerely, admiring your eyes. "so, so obsessed…you have no idea…"

you gaze longingly at him, melting his heart. after a moment you kiss him passionately, savoring his eagerness.

"well…would you like these panties too?" you ask with a smirk, putting his hand on your ass. he looks up at you with begging eyes. "please," he says so softly.

soon you're sat on the edge of the bed, harry pulling down your pants with the fireplace lit behind him. he's looking at you so tenderly, taking in every part of you, constantly reminding you how much he loves you, and how beautiful you are.

you open your legs for him as he kneels in front of you, his eyes fluttering from your face to your panties, which are undoubtedly wet from hearing harry's perverted stories.

his mouth is watering just looking at you.

he gently kisses your thighs, higher and higher until he reaches your panties, taking a moment to look back up at you. you're intently watching him, a blush spreading across your face. you look so pretty from here, a view he's daydreamed about plenty of times.

he buries his face in your smell, moaning, taking you in completely, eyes drooping shut as he feels complete bliss overcome him.

you whimper at his reaction, a hand reaching for his hair as he comes back to earth. he reaches for your panties when he pauses, looking up at you shyly.

"i-i've never done this before." he admits.

you giggle at him lovingly. "i know, harry. it's okay. i haven't either." you reassure him, reaching for his glasses and setting them beside you. he smiles shyly and lays his head on your thigh, letting your hand tangle itself in his hair, memorizing this angle of you.

"just enjoy yourself."

harry blushes at that sentiment. he was enjoying himself no matter what, with you he was always happy, especially in moments like this.

but harry more than enjoyed himself. he had always fantasized what it would be like to eat your pussy, your hand in his hair as you ride his face and cum in his mouth. what he didn't expect was just how intimate it felt with you, the soft whimpers that escaped your mouth, having your legs rest on his shoulders, practically making out with your pussy while you writhe with pleasure beneath his hands.

you were both a bit unsure at first, awkward smiles and laughs and reassuring touches, before harry eventually lost himself in the act. he paid close attention to your reactions, your facial expressions, trying to figure out the best way to pleasure you. he loved feeling you get more and more wet for him by the minute, he couldn't get enough of you.

harry didn't want to stop. cumming once wasn't enough for him. he ignored your begging for him to wait, please, it's too much, holding your hands down with his own as he continued for several more minutes. he had waited so long to finally do this for you, showing you just how badly he wanted you. his dick was aching from how hard it was. this was easily the most turned on he'd been for you so far, watching and hearing you orgasm because of him, on his face, he was convinced there was nothing more enjoyable or desirable than this.

"harry, god damn it…" you sighed. he stayed between your legs in the same position, leaving loving and longing kisses on your thighs and stomach, enjoying the aftershocks your body was having in response to him, looking at you with hunger in his eyes.

"yes?" he asks innocently, still admiring your delicious pussy. "harry, i can barely move…" you whine, your body aching and sore. harry smiles devilishly at your weakness, loving the effect he's come to have on you.

he kisses up your body, leaving a desperate kiss on your lips as you taste yourself on him.

"that was even better than i ever imagined it could be," harry practically growls. you giggle at him, your eyes tired and lips bitten.

you look down at harry and see his throbbing erection through his pants. you look back at him, and offer to return the favor.

"oh, honey, you don't have to, you should rest…" harry insists, stroking your hair out of your face. but you're not backing down, and you at least convince him to let you help him out.

he lays next to you on the bed, shirt and pants off as you start feeling his dick through his briefs. harry's instantly desperate under your touch, realizing just how long he's waited for this moment, no longer having to imagine his own hand as yours.

"[y/n]..." harry moans, his eyes filled with lust as he looks over at you. you. blushing, beautiful, natural you. "i swear i could cum just looking at you."

you giggle at harry again, blushing into his chest as your hand continues to stroke him. you look back up at him innocently, admiring the look of desperation he couldn't hide. reaching for a kiss, harry moans softly into your mouth, his dick twitching in your hand.

"oh god…" harry whines, his head falling back in pleasure. you can tell he's close, just from light touching and barely any kissing. you can't help but giggle at his state, loving the control you have over him.

"go ahead, baby, cum for me," you whisper seductively.

that's all it takes for harry.

trying his best to keep his eyes on you, he comes completely undone under your touch. his breathing becomes completely ragged, breathy whimpers, vaguely trying to say your name the longer you stroked him. similar to how he kept going with you, you didn't back down. he begged you to stop, but you could tell he didn't really want you to stop any time soon. you kiss him to quiet his begging, continuing to overstimulate him until he came for a second time, ruining his briefs for good.

after cleaning yourselves up, harry gives you the longest, warmest, most loving hug you've ever received in your life. you bury your head in his chest, taking in the feeling and smell of his skin. his, now muscular, arms are wrapped tightly around you, holding you like harry had nothing left in this world but you.

"i love you, so much, and i'm so thankful for you." harry says, his deep voice rumbling in his chest.

you hug him even tighter. "i love you, harry,"

————————————————————

by the time next semester starts, you and harry are full-blown boyfriend and girlfriend, constantly holding hands wherever you two go and seeing each other off to your classes or study sessions. people talked amongst themselves about the harry potter having a girlfriend, but you both paid no mind.

being with you has really made harry come out of his shell. by the time spring sports roll around, harry feels confident enough to try out for the university's quidditch team. with your support, of course.

it was never a question that he'd make the team, he instantly became their new seeker and brought the school out of their losing streak. through this, harry also made tons of friends, real friends, who wanted to get to know him outside of being harry potter.

not to mention that you had become his number one fan, showing up to every game and most practices to cheer on your best friend and help him strategize for future games.

in every aspect, harry's life completely changed for the better. he loved his classes, he loved his team, and above all else, he loved you, and felt like he owed everything he had to you.

the only thing that bothered harry anymore was that jerk you dated and introduced him to at the diner, thomas.

thomas hadn't made the quidditch team this season, and he made it very clear that he blamed harry for that. he tried spreading a rumor that harry paid his way in, but people didn't buy it after seeing just how well harry played every game.

but that's not what bothered harry. what bothered him was the way thomas used you to get to him.

everyone knew you and harry were dating. it was the topic of conversation on campus for nearly a week when everyone found out. so why is it that every time thomas talked to you when he saw you alone you had to remind him that no, you can't hang out sometime soon, you have a boyfriend now? to harry it felt personal, and he didn't like it.

it was one of the most important quidditch matches of the season, it determined the university's qualification for finals. harry was on top of his game, especially seeing you cheering for him in the stands, and won the match easily, being celebrated by his team on the field.

after taking a few photos and congratulating the rest of the players, harry eagerly runs to meet you at your usual spot just beside the stands to get his usual post-win kiss.

what he finds instead makes him see red.

thomas. he has you completely backed up to the stands, a clearly heated conversation going on between you two. harry can tell you're pissed just by looking at you, speaking with your hands and trying to walk away but being stopped by thomas each time. finally you push him away, and he grabs you.

that's all harry needs to see before he begins sprinting towards him, his mind racing a million miles an hour and yet completely blank at the same time.

you had managed to push thomas off of you, now yelling at him to get the fuck away from you before you rock his shit.

before you can even try, harry tackles thomas to the ground and begins rocking his shit for you.

you gasped. "harry! stop!" you tell him, not wanting him to get caught and punished. but harry doesn't stop. you've never seen this anger from him. it's like he can't stop, not showing any signs of fatigue or resistance.

"harry! stop!" you yell at him, grabbing him from behind and pulling him away. harry stops punching thomas, only to stand above him and kick him in the stomach. "harry." you warn him, giving him a concerned look. "stop. you'll get expelled." you tell him in a hushed tone.

harry looks at you, softening, coming back to earth as you motion for him to just walk away with you. harry looks down at thomas, a bleeding mess in the dirt, crying in the fetal position.

harry kneels next to thomas, making him flinch. harry points his wand at him and mutters quickly, "episkey."

thomas's nose fixes itself, his cuts heal, and his stomach bruise lightens. he looks at harry incredulously, feeling no physical pain, but in fear of the threat harry posed.

"don't ever fucking touch her again. do you understand? next time i won't be so nice." harry growls. thomas quickly nods his head, desperate to leave. harry stands up, sneering at him still in the dirt. "and don't talk to me either while you're at it." you add at the end, your voice just as intimidating as harry's. "got that?" harry asks sarcastically. thomas nods again, standing up and running away from harry.

as he turns to you, you notice his bloody nose, multiple cuts from the game, and bruised knuckles. "oh, harry," you coo sympathetically, grabbing his hands and examining them. "come on. let's go home."

and by home, you meant to your house. the university had upgraded your room and board in exchange for you to work for them as a professor's assistant in potions. it was a small cottage just outside of campus, one bedroom, one bathroom, but it was enough for you and harry.

walking into your living room, you send harry to the bathroom as you lock the door behind you and drop your stuff off on the dining table. you grab a rag from the kitchen and get it wet with warm water.

you enter the bathroom to see a shirtless harry already attempting to clean a wound on his chest. you can see his reflection in the mirror and are completely infatuated with his focused, bloody face concentrated on his reflection as he tends to his injury.

you come up behind him, barely able to rest your chin on his tall, broad shoulders. his reflection instantly softens, his muscles relaxing.

you turn him around, cleaning the wounds on his chest, arms, and hands. his knuckles were bruised, nothing a spell couldn't fix. "you're lucky you didn't break anything." you remind him.

he watches you so intently. your gentle, caring touch bringing him instant relief. even now, all these months later, you still mesmerize him every day. he's not sure he'll ever get used to having you for himself. but that's just what you were, for himself.

"i wanted to kill him. i would've killed him." harry reminds you, rubbing his knuckles. "sit, please," you ask quietly, pulling him over to the closed toilet. harry sits down, letting out a groan as his entire body aches from quidditch and nearly killing someone.

he looks up at you, his eyes dark and angry again just thinking about it before softening at you. you bring the rag to his face, wiping away blood and dirt from his scars. a tense silence falls between you two. harry can't tell if you're angry at him for what he did. he has no idea why, that thomas kid was dead meat as soon as he decided to touch you.

as you carefully finish cleaning the last of the dirt off harry's face, you notice how tenderly he's watching you. you sigh, holding his face in your hands.

"i'm not mad at you." you say. he swears you can read him like a book.

"but, you could've gotten in serious trouble. or hurt yourself. i just don't want to be the reason you're down." you explain, rubbing a thumb along his cheek.

"i would do anything for you." he reminds you, his hand finding yours.

you smile warmly at him. you can't stay upset with him for very long.

"then do this for me: stay out of trouble."

harry smiles. no promises.

as you're getting ready for bed, harry walks in from his shower in just a pair of shorts. you walk up to him, running your hands along his torso to make sure his scars are sufficiently clean. and to just admire your boyfriend in general.

harry revealed to you some time back his real reason for working out. you found it sweet, but a bit silly, as you could handle yourself perfectly well. however, tonight, harry proved you wrong. though you were never in immediate danger or physical harm, as far as you knew, it still felt really nice to know he had your back when things got scary.

while working out definitely helped his strength, quidditch is what really made his body so exceptional.

he was perfectly toned, incredibly strong, and more buff than he ever had been his entire life. you were never someone to have a thing for muscular guys, but something about watching harry's body get better and better with time just drove you crazy.

"you know," you start off, resting your hands on his chest. you could feel his heart racing. all this time later and he's still such a nervous wreck for you.

"i may not approve of it, but…i can't deny how fucking sexy you looked beating thomas up for me,"

harry could feel his blood boil just from you mentioning that douchebag's name, but he was somewhat distracted by your observation.

"oh, really?" he smirks, grabbing your waist possessively. you instantly have goosebumps, leaning into harry's tight grip. "mhm. i haven't stopped thinking about it…you in your quidditch uniform, your muscles, the anger in your voice…" you practically swoon for him.

harry blushes, but takes advantage of the situation. "i was seeing red." he recalls. "i was seriously going to fucking kill that loser for even thinking he could touch my girl."

you're instantly turned on by his fierce protectiveness. normally you find harry's jealousy funny, since he has no reason to ever worry about you, but tonight it made you see a completely different side of him…

harry was always so soft and careful with you, and was a normally mild-tempered person with everyone. the only time he really got upset was if someone was getting too comfortable with you too quickly. to see him completely lose his cool, to watch him unleash onto this guy who thought he could just grab you…

you were just so, so attracted to him right now.

"yes, your girl, all yours," you reassure him as you lean in for a kiss. he quickly takes control and brings you to your bed, laying you down with haste. "mine. mine. mine." he reminds you between sloppy kisses.

the lingering anger within harry needs to be released, immediately.

he quickly undresses you, a complete 180 of the old harry who was afraid to help you take off your bra. he practically rips your panties in half trying to get them off of you.

you're already soaking wet from his aggression. he smirks at you. "guess i should get angry more, yeah?" harry teases.

you blush, but you wouldn't exactly be against it.

as harry slowly begins thrusting into you, he feels that familiar bliss overcome him like it does every time he's inside of you.

you and harry have had sex a couple times before, mostly slow and passionate with lots of kissing, enjoying each other's bodies and intimacy.

but this time, harry was hungry for you.

not to say he never is. he might always be hungry for you, quite literally. but this time, he lets the hunger consume him.

harry's thrusts become less careful and more desperate, he leaves dark, aching bites all over your chest, marking what's his. "mine. mine. mine." he reminds you between each bite.

you're in a state of pure ecstasy. you didn't know harry could be so rough with you. his desperation usually came in the form of shy begging, whimpering, and a desire to please. but this kind of desperation was aggressive, jealous, and aimed to please himself. you didn't mind, you thought it was bloody hot. you also wanted to help harry get his anger out, and you were the perfect way to do that.

as his thrusts become more possessive and sloppy, his arms rest on either side of you, the sight above you enough to make your orgasm accelerate. a sweaty, tired, aching harry, desperate to prove something to you, looking at you like you're the first meal he's had in years. his muscles flexing, veins popping out, and his breathing becomes labored.

he can feel you tightening around him and quickened his pace. "harry, harry, i'm cumming," you warn him, whining, desperate for a release.

"that's right, cum for me, baby." he groans in your ear, wrapping his arms around you as he continues pounding into you relentlessly.

watching you fall apart under him is enough to send him over the edge himself. his head is buried in your neck as he breathes heavily, moaning your name in your own ear.

"fuck, i'm gonna cum inside you, baby. can you let me do that?" harry asks you, his sweaty face desperate for your approval. you nod quickly, eager to be his release in anyway you can.

"can you take it? can you be a good girl for me?" harry loves to dirty talk, and this is the hottest it's been yet.

"please, harry, please give it to me, please, please, i need you," you beg harry, grabbing his shoulders, feeling your body prepare for its second orgasm.

"take it, baby, take it, god, you feel so good," he groans into your ear, his hips stuttering as he cums deep inside you.

your body convulses from the feeling and watching harry melt into you. his face is relieved of all anger, his eyes soft and full of love for you as he leans in to give you a sloppy kiss.

he steps back, watching his cum drip out of you, and could easily get turned on again just by the sight of you right now. but he's too tired, and he knows he has lots of time with you to do it all over again.

after cleaning up and crawling into bed, harry holds you against his chest. you're asleep in no time, steady breaths and slight snores coming from your peaceful expression. harry wraps his arm around you before leaving a kiss on top of your head.

"i love you, [y/n]. goodnight."

————————————————————

[if you actually read through all of this, i salute you. if you actually enjoyed it, pls let me know. i definitely want to post more like this in the future so i always appreciate any feedback <3 thank you!!! happy new year btw lol]

[moonlightpeddler]

Hiatus

The game is on indefinite hiatus.

Demo

[Current word count without code: 11465 with two branches]

Life is unpredictable.

You have just been to your first party, with hope for a different, better, and more social future, but instead of waking up with a hangover, you wake up 13 months of coma later, severely ill and with no chance to build the life you wanted to live.

Confined at home, confined to the night by your medication, deprived of outside contact to keep stress away from you, and with food that tastes like iron, all you have is your loving family and the small village they have moved to during your long sleep.

The house is old, dilapidated, the neighbours unfriendly and distant, looking at you with strange eyes, whispering whenever you see them, treating you like your illness is contagious.

But why has your family never taken you to the hospital for a checkup? Since when do hospital doctors make frequent home visits, and only when their patient isn’t conscious?

What would happen if you open the curtains they tell you to keep closed?

The game is intended for a mature audience.

Blood

Violence

Self-harm (for a reason)

Murder

Assault

Brainwashing

Dysfunctional relationships

Co-dependency

Death

And many more.

Depending on the route you take, Cailean, your character, can not be said to be an innocent or good person, please make sure that you are okay with playing a non-human MC who might act accordingly.

Mending Yesterday pairs folk believes, old elements, and lore from different media, with Vampyr lifestyle to create a modern portrayal of vampires that retains the classic feel yet gives it a more down-to-earth presentation.

You take the place of an established character and turn the tale into your very own, form the adventure and how the protagonist faces his new reality.

Will you change Cailean’s behaviour over the course of the story, develop a new personality for your new life, or will you cling to your old self despite the consequences it could have?

Will you keep to yourself and your loved ones, build something new to spend your long life, or get involved in a struggle that isn’t yours? How will others see you, who are your friends and foes? Do you stick to those who are seemingly safe, or will you place your own judgement?

The game doesn’t give you an overpowered protagonist, you aren’t the chosen one, won’t save the world or change it in any meaningful way.

You are just a 19-year-old young man being in the wrong place at the wrong time, all you can do is live your own life that, in the grand scheme of eternity, is nothing but a fleeting picture.

Taking place in a fictional village in Ireland, the game takes a step away from the Urban-Vampire trope and focuses on dynamics commonly found in, very, rural places.

While I have abstained from using phonetics to make it easier for people not familiar with the country, selected sayings and use of words have been kept to preserve the feeling.

Mending Yesterday is most and foremost a horror-drama, character-driven and story-heavy, not a dating game. The only romantic candidate (male) is a central character and the relationship with him greatly influences the plot instead of being flavour or a sidenote; you can stay distant, friendly, close or even loving, all four options significantly shape your personal story.

Being a family-person, you will have to keep an eye on your parents and brother, how you react to the changes in your life, respond to situations, and how you treat them has a direct impact on how your adventure will go.

A character and relationship focused narrative requires you to think twice about how you interact with others, pay attention not only to yourself but those you meet, decide wisely about how to treat them and with whom you want to be close with.

There are relationship-stats you can and should check regularly, for they keep track not only of your bonds but could give you valuable information, yet they won’t ever tell you clearly what they mean.

Just like in real life, people aren’t open books.

Every choice you have to make is meaningful, it either changes or determines something important; you won’t be continuously prompted to make decisions. The game doesn’t bother with flavour.

Routes are roughly equally long, with several endings dedicated players can try to find.

Prologue

Cailean Morrison, whose place you take, is a 19-year-old geriatric-psychology freshman. Calm, quiet, and slightly distant, he was never good at making connections and even worse at maintaining them. He loves his family above all else, has a good heart, and is very fond of older folks.

James Morrison, Cailean’s father, 46 years old, family lawyer. He’s a sensible, somewhat emotional person, bad at dealing with negative experiences, and generally a kind soul.

Aileen Morrison, Cailean’s mother, 44 years old, elementary school teacher. While she loves her family and students, she can be very strict and vengeful, knows how to stay calm in difficult situations, and often keeps her emotions to herself.

Alfred Morrison, Cailean’s brother, 24 years old, investment banker. Although he was wild in his youth, he’s hardworking and cunning, and while usually perceived as friendly, he has well-hidden sharp edges and a ruthless nature.

Choices will determine which talent you are proficient in, while some increases might be obvious, others are hidden behind story-progression.

You can’t fail skill-checks, instead they will change the story depending either on which talent you are most versed in, or if you are generally lacking - and they might have an impact on how other characters feel about you.

The game is in active development. Planed additions include more visual elements, incidental music, and a compendium that tracks information the player has found (coming in the Chapter 1 update). As a solo dev who does everything by himself, music and visuals are not my priority and will be included only in major updates.

[s-awturn]

Us, again || CS55

summary: Abandoned in a strange country, with no money, friends or family and a positive pregnancy test, Y/N finds herself on the brink of unprecedented chaos. There is no one she can count on, except her ex best friend, who she didn't want to have to turn to.

cw: conflict, abandonment, crying crisis and mention of an anxiety attack. Old conflict, nostalgia, separation, problem solving, relationship to be established, ex-friends to lovers. Extreme cuteness

a/n: I wanted to start something like this, and Carlos and Toto are always my favorites for angst and this plot arose especially for the grid's smooth operator. And I articulated the details of the story while reading "my tears ricochet" by @spngi and it's no secret to anyone that I'm a drama girl, so be aware that this is going to be a lot of drama, something cute and sweet, we'll see how it turns out.

a/n¹: notes: oh my god, this took so long to finish, I almost gave up when Tumblr lost everything I had ever written (I almost cried) after four attempts, three days, I finally finished it, anyway, I hope you like it, yay!

Freely inspired by Taylor Swift's "cardigan".

“I knew you'd haunt all of my what-ifs / The smell of smoke would hang around this long / 'Cause I knew everything when I was young / I knew I'd curse you for the longest time”

"This isn't happening, Y/N, Don't fucking fuck with me! This isn't happening!" I hear Aaron's raised voice as he walks through the hotel room, in my hands, an urgent ultrasound and a pregnancy test with a static "positive" on the test screen. "I can't be a father now!"

"I also didn't choose to be a mother now, Aaron, much less did I make this child alone!" I respond, equally upset and stand in front of him, I would never let him, or any man in the world, get above me.

"So it's decided, we will have the abortion" he says as if it were simple, and my mind spins in a huge spiral, I don't know if abortion is an option for me, much less in a strange country and in circumstances like this. "Ireland guarantees the right to abortion, we can do it today, hopefully!"

Aaron holds my arms tightly and shakes me lightly, trying to convince me. I move away from him as if I had been shocked and stop in the other corner of the suite, looking at him as if he were a stranger.

"I'm not going to have an abortion, much less in a foreign country! I cannot and will not decide this overnight, Aaron!" I speak and I see him become more exasperated and veins grow on his forehead, a sign of stress.

"You've got to be fucking kidding," he complains, and I don't like the glazed look he's giving me. "You can't decide? Y/N, fuck, we have plans, we start our trip now and you can’t decide?”

"No, we're talking about my body! Whether I carry this pregnancy forward or not, is my decision!" My voice echoes in the room and Aaron sighs, I feel a bad shiver running up my spine when I see my boyfriend's green eyes go dark.

"You're right, it's your decision, it's your body..." He rests his hands on his hips, breathing deeply "let's sleep, we'll go back to London and talk better"

I nod and change into comfortable pajamas. The test and ultrasound are forgotten on the table. All around us, the strange tension and feeling of something wrong only allow me to sleep much later than I would like. Aaron falls asleep as soon as he hits the pillow.

-- ♡ --

I wake up as the sun escapes the translucent curtains, my body hurts like I've been hit by a truck. I barely open my eyes and my intuition kicks in and I sit up so quickly that my muscles groan with pain, there is no sign of Aaron, his bags are not in their place, I jump out of bed and open the safe, I only find my passport, torn up, in fact. No sign of my cards or the money we brought for the trip.

Tears burn my eyes as the truth crashes down on my head.

Aaron abandoned me in Ireland, alone, without money and with my documents torn up, he destroyed me. I start to hyperventilate, there's no one I can ask for help, no one to rescue me, I'm alone in a country I don't even know. My boyfriend left me, alone, pregnant, without money or any fucking support.

"Son of a bitch!" I scream and collapse on the floor, crying without stopping, I should have followed my instincts, but I trusted that he would never do something like that to me, I trusted his feelings. I was such a idiot! It takes me a few minutes to recover, taking deep breaths with my left hand on my flat stomach.

"I'll find a way to get us out of this, baby, I promise" my voice shakes and I try to stop crying. "Your stupid mom will find a way, we'll be fine soon"

After forty minutes between "I'll fix this" and "Oh my God, I'm fucked", I call the hotel reception, and I have the excellent news that my stay is guaranteed for another eight days, a Since Aaron — my stupid fucking ex — we paid before we left. At least I have a guaranteed roof over my head for a week, with food and clean clothes, I wouldn't be completely homeless.

My parents passed away years ago, my friends walked away from me when I started dating Aaron, which means I'm fucking alone.

A new bout of crying chokes my throat and I'm tired of being strong, I can't believe that stupid man left me and stole my money. I feel so, so destroyed. I face the test and the ultrasound, I wanted my mother to be here, I wanted her to comfort me and tell me everything would be okay.

Five days later.

"Wow, really? One hundred and fifty euros for a new passport? I don't have that money!" my hope dies as soon as I understand how bad my situation is. "I have the police report, isn't that worth anything?"

"I can check with my superiors, but it will take at least two weeks, Miss L/N"

"Two weeks? I can't afford to stay here for two weeks, I have no money!" My voice shakes and I suppress the urge to cry.

"It's the best I can do, Miss"

"Well, thank you then..." I thank you grudgingly and hang up. It's been five days since Aaron left, in the meantime, I've sunk into so much self-pity that I'm sharing the rent with Samara. I've swallowed my pride the last few days and called some old friends, but all the calls went to voicemail, and that doesn't surprise me.

What did I expect? That they would welcome me with open arms after I turned my back on everyone? How I was deceived;

My reservation will expire in three days, and then I will literally be in the gutter of Dublin, with no chance of returning to London, all the disappointment turns my stomach and brings on the disgusting feeling of sickness, I only have time to run to the bathroom and vomit my breakfast into the toilet. I don't know if it's a symptom of pregnancy or if it's a consequence of the horrible situation I'm in. I brush my teeth and go back to the room, going straight to the suite's balcony and facing the view of the city, I hope Dublin's landscape makes me forget how bad everything is around me. Sitting on the lounge chair, looking at the azaleas on the balcony wall, she absently ran her fingers over her belly; If you asked me a few days ago if I wanted to be pregnant, my answer would have been a giant "no", but now, I feel anxious about the little things.

Looking forward to buying the baby's clothes, choosing the color of the room or making a list of names, nothing will be easy, I know, but I will make it work, even with all the difficulties and problems, I will strive to be a good mother, and a father too if necessary.

"You didn't come at a good time, little one, but I promise I'll do everything I can for you" I murmur, trying to be confident and find some way out. There are no more tears to cry, there's no more pain to suffer so I'm not going to waste any more energy on it, fuck Aaron, I'm capable of taking care of everything, I just need some time, but I'll make it. I remain on the balcony until the end of the afternoon, when the hotel reception calls me, letting me know that dinner is already served, the mention of food makes me salivate with hunger, in the same way that it shakes my stomach in previous waves of nausea. "I need energy to sort things out for us, little one, so you can let mommy keep the food down today, huh?”

I talk to my stomach as I look for my cell phone in the mess on the bed, ignoring the pieces of my passport, otherwise I would have a tantrum and be able to get to England by swimming. I greet some guests, who ask me how I am and if the baby is already giving me trouble, and they also ask me if I managed to solve the passport problem. These same guests found out about this when they found me in tears at the reception, sympathizing with the situation I was in.

"We're fine, he's already deciding what he likes to eat, and avocado toast isn't on the list" I say laughing as we go downstairs. The restaurant is not that crowded, most guests prefer to dine in local restaurants and pubs, so most of the seats were vacant, the process of serving my food and choosing the table furthest from the air conditioning takes less than ten minutes. The food on my plate is almost gone when I'm drawn to the call of an Irish sports program, they were going to rebroadcast the Monaco GP qualifying, with comments from the commentators. I don't even notice the time passing, I end up staying there in the restaurant as the guests leave and say goodbye to me, and my heart starts racing like a rocket when the camera focuses on Carlos Sainz.

"I haven't heard anything from him since... Oh, it's been so long..." I murmur, resting my chin in my hands, hoping he can get a good position. Even though I haven't been to the races for some time, I still know how things work and I also know that Monaco is a difficult circuit. I can't help but be thrilled when he gets P2, it was quite an achievement! This leads me to wonder if he still keeps the same phone number.

Can Carlos help me... I know I'm being selfish, but I have no one else to turn to, and I'm about to despair. We were friends until one of his girlfriends decided that there was no more room in Carlos' life for me, until she decided that I could no longer come between them, not that I would, I always wanted my best friend to be happy, with whoever he was, and what hurt the most was Carlos agreeing with her and cutting me out of his life. Carlos was my best friend.

"It doesn't hurt to try, I already have the 'no'" I murmur, sliding my finger across my cell phone while I look for his phone. With my heart racing, I press "call" and wait and at the height of my anxiety, I count the seconds until he answers. Thirty seconds until I hear Carlos' familiar voice.

"Hello?" He says and I can't hold back my tears, like an emotional idiot.

"Carlos?"

"Y/N? Is that really you?" He looks as surprised as I am.

"Well yes, it's me" I give a choked laugh, the tears are blocking my nose, soon I'll be exhausted. "I know we're not friends anymore, Carlos, but I need your help... I don't would bother you if it wasn't necessary"

I hear the sound of a door closing and a strong accent complaining in what I think is French.

"You would never bother me, how can I help you, cielo?"

And then I talk, I say everything that's happening, my sobs make me cry in some parts, the hormones are already in an uproar, apparently. Carlos listens to me without interrupting once, and if I know him well, I know he's messing up his hair and frowning like he always does when he's concentrating.

"I wouldn't be calling if I weren't desperate, Carlos..."

"Calm down, calm down, you did well in the place, cielo, I won't be able to go, of course, but you'll be home soon, I promise" he says, there are no signs of hesitation in his voice and It comforts me in a way I can never explain. I hear the sound of drawers opening and a sheet of paper being torn apart "give me the address of the hotel, I won't be able to go, because of the rush, but I will send my advisor to take care of everything, don't worry, bien?"

"Thank you, thank you so much! I can't even tell you how grateful I am" I speak emotionally and give the hotel address next to the phone, in case I don't answer.

"There's no need to thank me, cielo, I would never leave you helpless, never" he assures me and I feel eighteen again, sitting on the sidewalk outside my house with him, the two of us eating ice cream and talking about his season. Oh God, I missed him so much.

"Congratulations on P2, you were great" I say sincerely, Carlos is a great driver and I know how much he works every day, I don't need to be with him to know, he is very obstinate.

"Oh, did you watch it? Thanks, Y/N"

We stay silent on the line, sharing our breaths until I break.

"I don't have enough words to thank you, Carlos, but thank you, you saved me" I say, swallowing the lump that suddenly appeared in my throat. "I need to sleep now... Good luck in the race tomorrow, I'll be rooting for you"

"Thank you cielo, have a good night" he says and we remain on the call until I hang up. Carlos and I have always shared silence, staying silent has never been a problem between us. When I lock myself in my room, all the weight of that day falls on me like a stone, I take a hot shower and lie down, tormented by memories.

"You don't call me anymore, so I came to see you, your mother told me you were here" I say, entering his room, something we always did, Carlos and I always went to each other's houses.

"Well, I didn't return your call for a reason" he said and I saw Isabella, his current girlfriend come out of the bathroom, wearing one of his shirts. "We'll talk later, Y/N"

“You never call me Y/N, what’s wrong, cielo?”

"We can't be friends anymore" He says it without pity, harshly and even cruelly.

"Huh? Why? Because of Isabella?"

"Isabella has nothing to do with this" he says quickly, standing in front of his girlfriend, Isabella puts on shorts and says she will give us privacy, I don't even look at her face, keeping his eyes on Carlos. "your feelings do!"

"What the fuck are you talking about, Carlos?! My feelings? Are you crazy?

"I heard your conversation with Blanca" he confesses and I feel my heart stop, he shouldn't have... "Don't make me say, Y/N, So spare us the humiliation of having to break your heart over feelings that should never exist, because you know, we would never have anything."

I could call him names, fight him, or do anything else, but I just nodded and took off the friendship bracelet we had made last summer. A stupid symbol of our bond, which no longer exists.

"I think you're right, I hope you're immensely happy, cielo and that you can achieve everything you dream of" I leave the bracelet on his desk before leaving the room. I say goodbye to Mrs. Sainz and Blanca, Carlos' sister apologizes, she didn't know he was listening. "It's my fault, there's no need to apologize"

I said goodbye to them, aware that it would be the last time we would see each other like that, I had been accepted at a university in England and with the death of my parents, nothing kept me in Spain anymore. Except only for Carlos.

But not anymore, that was the last time I spoke to Carlos.

My heart jumps when I wake up, I feel my face wet and I confirm that just like in the memories, I cried. I really had feelings for Carlos, but I was willing to ignore them if it meant having my best friend with me, I didn't care if he was dating or anything, I just needed him, I didn't have anyone else, feelings that shouldn't have even arisen. I didn't want to ask him for help, but I knew I would never have the courage to ask Blanca, Reyes or Mr. Carlos, so I had to swallow my pride and call him.

I'm still looking at the hotel ceiling, thinking about the floodgate that Carlos opened in me, with just one phone call. I thought I was over it, that the hurt and resentment were gone. As for the mistake, I was as hurt and resentful as years ago, it still hurt as if it had been done yesterday. My daydreams are interrupted by a call from an unknown number, I answer and make the mistake of answering while yawning.

"I'm sorry, please, I just woke up" I ask before hearing the person, who laughs, I would recognize that laugh anywhere, even in a crowd. "Carlos"

"Sorry for waking you up, cielo" he says and I feel my skin itch, the nickname takes me back to good days, where everything was sweet and full of dreams.

"Relax, I literally just woke up. Is everything okay?"

"Yes, yes everything is fine, I just called to let you know that there will be a car to pick you up at one o'clock in the afternoon, you will be taken to a private flying field straight to London" he says, I hear the buzz of the pitlane in the background, lots of shouting in Italian and the uproar of the crowd. The race would start soon. "Is everything okay with you, cielo? Can you get it ready in time?"

"Yes, definitely yes, I didn't want to bother you, Carlos, especially before a race."

"Ah" he clicked his tongue, dismissing my apology "it's no big deal, I promised I would take you home and I will, there will be a car at the private airport to take you home, just give your address to the driver, and don't worry about paying anything, you only need to worry about eating and resting during the trip, as for your passport, I scheduled a time for you to get a new copy of your document, in three days, you will receive a memo on your cell phone."

My throat constricted, well here I am feeling like crying again, these hormones are still going to make me dehydrated from crying, or my tears would dry up at some point.

"You're being a guardian angel for me, Carlos, I'll never thank you enough" I murmur hoarsely, swallowing the tears.

"Oh no, no please, don't cry, you know I never know how to deal with your tears" he says and I know he's despairing, which makes me laugh and sniffle, in a strange way that I know I've never done before "I'm not doing anything much, if with all this money, I can't do something simple like take you home, what is all this for?"

"I know, thank you very, very much... I'll pack my bags and have coffee, you'll do well in this race, I know that" I say quickly and hang up before it gets awkward, or rather, weirder.

The following hours are a mess, checking in at the hotel, the journey to the runway and much of the flight are done with my mind on standby, I could only think about how betrayed I felt by Aaron's attitude, how I needed to swallow my pride and ask for help from someone I swore I wouldn't see again. The Earth turned several times until it threw me into Carlos Sainz's life once again. I sink into the armchair looking at the fluffy clouds through the window.

"I said I would find a way, little one, and we're going home now. Maybe you'll question my methods in the future, but not my results" I laugh at my own joke and I let my hands rest on my belly, I suddenly feel anxious to see it bigger, Being a mother was not a goal for the next five years, I'm not at all prepared for motherhood, but I don't know how to describe the panic that gripped my heart when Aaron suggested the interruption. I have a stable job, which allows me to work from home and a flexible schedule, I have a small apartment, but with an extra room for the baby and well, I decided to move on. I already feel very connected to the baby, and there is a break in the loneliness that I have felt for years, it is good not to feel alone.

My cell phone rings the moment I turn the key in the lock, Carlos' name flashes on the display and I answer it while trying to push my bags inside.

"The driver just told you he dropped you off at home, did everything go well? Were the flight attendants kind to you?"

"Yes, yes, everything was fine, Carlos, the flight attendants are really cute, I was treated very well, you can put your weapons away" I breathe a sigh of relief as I sit down on my sofa, finally away from all that hell I went through in Dublin.

"That's good, cielo, I've been worried about you all day"

I don't know what to answer, I don't know what Carlos expects from me after all these years, after so much distance.

"I'm glad you're home and well, cielo, I'll let you rest now"

Another time, we are silent on the call until I ask "did you win?"

“It was Charles' home race, my job was to make sure he won, but I got second place” he says, there's a certain 'job done' tone in his voice. "I'm happy with today's result"

"That's good, I'm happy for you, and for your teammate" I say sincerely.

"Thank you, that matters a lot... Anyway, rest okay? You can't sleep late anymore, take care cielo, call me for whatever you need, anything, don't hesitate" he says with such firmness that It almost makes me uncomfortable, so we hang up. I don't know if Carlos is back in my life and I don't know if I'm okay with that. It's so confusing, but I don't need to deal with it right now, I have more important things to take care of.

Almost two weeks later, I got a new passport, applied for new cards and was being monitored by an obstetrician. Luckily I didn't run into Aaron a single day, I changed the locks, I threw his things in the trash and made my transition from a committed woman to a single woman smoothly.

"What do I need to buy at the market?" I mutter as I check cupboards and fridge, licorice dangling from my lips. "milk, eggs, sugar, tomatoes and pasta... Cheese and bacon, for sure" Maybe I'll make a carbonara when I get home from the store. I had been in the middle of an Italian food fixation for days, all I wanted was pasta, tomatoes and cheese. Just when I finish making the market list, my campaign rings and I have a heart attack when I see no one other than Carlos Sainz — and all his other surnames — standing at my door.

"Carlos? What are you doing here?"

"I don't know, to be honest I don't know, but after you called me, I couldn't stop thinking about seeing you again" He says it so fast I think he's going to choke and I pull him into the apartment before the neighbors see him and decide to hold a carnival on my doorstep. He wastes a few seconds looking around, for an instant I saw my best friend there, the guy who knew everything about my life and who today, knew nothing about me anymore, big breakthrough.

"I'm sorry if you think that explains anything," I reply, looking at how lost he looks. "but again, what do you want here, Carlos?"

"I want to apologize, I was a shitty friend to you, I was cruel, I belittled your feelings, you are the most amazing and resilient person I know" he says, taking a step towards me, I don't back away, but I make it clear that he is not welcome in my personal space. "Life without you has been bad, very bad and I only realized that when I saw you, weeks ago."

"Walking away was the best thing we did, Carlos. God knows how we would have ended up if you hadn't put an end to it."

"No, it shouldn't have, it wasn't the right thing! We were left without our best friends because we didn't know how to deal with things, I didn't know"

"Carlos, you can't be best friends with the guy you're in love with, at some point I would hate you and that would be worse"

"and you didn't hate it?"

I keep quiet, because yes, I hated him for a long time, I still think I do and I don't even know why I'm trying to defend him. It must be the hormones talking.

"Yeah, yes I hated you for a long time, maybe I still hate you, but you were my best friend, I can't hate you forever"

I look at the man who was my mainstay for years, my confidant, best friend, accomplice, the guy who won my heart with gumdrops and notes in candy wrappers. The man I fell in love with and broke my heart. There is a mixture of feelings in me, hurt, pain, hope, resentment, all of it shaking my heart nonstop, I don't know what to feel.

"I don't know if I can have you around, Carlos, you were really my best friend, but you were also the guy I fell in love with and who broke my heart, I don't know if I'm ready to have you back"

He swallows, taking in what I said, and for a moment, I think he's going to give up and walk away, but he nods and straightens his posture "okay, I'm going to prove that I'm sorry, for everything, for being a shitty friend, a stupid guy, I'm going to make you forgive me and" he pauses, to emphasize everything "I'll be with you, I'll make up for all the years, all the pain, I'll deserve you, Y/N, I swear"

I don't even know what to think, my mind goes blank as I try to understand what he's up to.

"What if I don't want to?" The question escapes my mouth without permission, the filter between my brain and mouth is off, apparently. "What makes you think I might want you in my life again?"

He doesn't respond for a few minutes, I can almost see the gears in Carlos' head turning, trying to find a good answer.

"Nothing, but that's never been an impediment for me, you know"

I just stare at him, surprised by that, my mouth articulates, but no sound comes out.

"You came all the way here from Spain for this?"

"I would come from anywhere in the world"

After that there wasn't much we could say, Carlos insisted on staying and making pancakes for me, and I couldn't say no as my stomach growled like a monster at the mention of food. In an instant I was watching Carlos move everything in my kitchen, he chops strawberries and blackberries while letting the pancake batter rest for a while.

“Aaron looked for you?” He questions, putting the fruit in a bowl and only looks at me when I sigh loudly. "What? Has he been bothering you? I'll sort it out"

"What? No, no! He didn't show up"

"Then why do you look frustrated?" I watch Carlos put the frying pan on the fire and add the yeast to the dough, and then stir gently, placing small discs in the hot pan.

"I'm just tired, all the stress from the trip is still affecting my sleep..." I murmur, stealing a piece of strawberry, the smell of the pancakes increases my hunger and Carlos laughs when he hears my belly rumbling. "Don't laugh, I'm eating for two and you have no idea how much this little one likes to eat"

We enter another silent space, Carlos focused on finishing the pancakes and my mind wanders to our conversation, some time before. I'm not a hypocrite in saying that I've already forgiven Carlos, but I don't think there's still space for that kind of resentment, I'm not eighteen anymore, I'm about to be a mother, I no longer have the time or inclination to feed old grudges. And God knows how much I missed him all these years, I refused to watch any races so I wouldn't have to see him. Calling Carlos and asking for his help seems to have put all our dramas in order, It made me understand that one way or another, my life would end up intertwined with his again.

No matter how much I wanted or tried, I would never be able to completely move away from Carlos, and it's time to accept that.

"Here you go, eat it all, I don't want your baby to grow up hating me" he says and pushes over a plate full of pancakes, berries, honey and some icing sugar. A beautiful montage.

"I hope it's good, or we'll both hate you" I reply and laugh when he turns pale, I take out a generous piece and the sweet smell intoxicates me for a few seconds. I go to heaven and back when I chew the piece of pancake, the taste is light and the dough melts in my mouth, I know I can eat this for the rest of my life and be happy every day.

"Holy fucking God, this is perfect, Carlos!" I take a piece of pancake with a strawberry and feel heaven on my tongue, a moan of appreciation makes my whole body vibrate, this is perfect, damn"If you had used that to apologize, I would have definitely accepted it from the beginning."

"if I had known food was the secret, I would have come prepared" He laughs as I finish eating, nothing more is said until I finish the second helping, which Carlos was happy to serve me.

I slide my finger across the plate, picking up the traces of honey and sugar, humming as I literally wipe the plate clean. I insist that he put everything in the dishwasher and come sit with me so we can sort everything out, once and for all.

"I still can't believe you came all the way to London... You got my address from the driver and you're here, making me pancakes and everything..." I say, playing with one of the cushions while Carlos takes the armchair in front of me. I allow myself to face him, he's even more handsome than before, the trail of beard over his chiseled jaw, his thick hair in an elegant mess, Carlos is a vision of fucking paradise.

"I'm not lying, Y/N, I really want to make amends with you, in any way" he assures, and breaks the distance between us, sitting next to me while holding my hands. "You missed me so much, and when you called me crying, I realized that we missed so much from each other, I wanted you to be at my first victory with Ferrari, I wanted to see your graduation, help you move in... "

In a strange way, I'm grateful that he doesn't mention the fact that I was in love with him, not that I'm ashamed of it, but ignoring it might make us easier to get along with.

"We can try, Carlos, try to be friends again, because my goodness, I missed you so much" I confess and he laughs.

"I promise to make it worth it, cielo" he squeezes my hands, running his thumb affectionately from the back of my hand. "I won't disappoint you"

"I bet it'll be a boy," he says, stealing a spoonful of my ice cream, fast enough to avoid the hit of my spoon on his hand. "God said to share bread, you know?"

"Exactly, He said to share the bread, not my ice cream" I mumble, protecting the container with my body. Carlos has been coming to my house for weeks, always bringing food — I'm beginning to suspect that it has a direct connection to my stomach and my hunger —, gifts for the baby and books on child psychology, food introduction and everything he considers necessary to educate a child. He's been taking over my couch whenever he has time off. I dare say that I see more Carlos than my neighbors. "And why do you think it will be a boy? This is misogyny, Sainz"

He tries to steal my ice cream again and this time I slap him right in the middle of the forehead, which is effective because he moves away. "I'm not being sexist, I'm following my intuition, okay?"

"The last time we followed your intuition, we ended up in the middle of nowhere, at three in the morning in a car without gas. If it weren't for my father, you would be grounded to this day." I respond, changing the sofa, Carlos is willing to steal my ice cream, interfering with a pregnant woman's right to satisfy her desire for a sweet treat after lunch. I'm going to report him to human rights.

"But do you think it's a boy or a girl?"

"I have no idea, I still don't have that 'maternal intuition' that I've seen in the support group for solo mothers, but I'm fine with any option, I'll love it regardless of gender" I say, my right hand slides over my recently completed five-month-old belly. "I should have found out the sex at the last appointment with the obstetrician, but this little one here had his back turned, can you believe it?"

Carlos laughs, throwing his entire body back and falling onto the sofa. I just watch him laugh, being enveloped by his laughter like a fluffy blanket.

"Seriously, I didn't even know that was possible, crossing your legs, ok, but being on your back is something new" he says, still laughing and drying his tears. I just realize how close he is, When I feel your hand on my belly, the calloused palm warms my skin even with the shirt between us. My breath hitches in my throat, something new growing and It's not just the little traveler in my womb... I don't know if that could be a good thing, especially considering our history.

"Yeah, she told me to go back there in a few days, if I want to find out the gender before the sixth month, then I'll be there on Tuesday, I won't have a meeting at work and I can buy the paints" I explain, poking at the ice cream, trying to distract myself from Carlos' hand on my belly.

"I just need to be in Maranello on Saturday, so I can join you if you want" he suggests, finally moving to his end of the sofa.

"Really? I don't want to disturb you, I know race week is coming and you need to prepare" I say trying, I don't even know what I'm trying, I'm going to blame my exploding hormones.

"I can deal with that later, you need my opinion on paint colors and someone to hold your hand while you root for the business class traveler to be facing forward this time" he said, and looks at me meaningfully "that is, I am most needed here"

"Are you sure? You don't need to go"

"I would be there, even if I were playing crosswords in the office waiting room" he says, without giving me any chance for discussion.

"Okay, whoever said that is no longer here, now pass the ice cream slowly and no one gets hurt" I say and hold out my hand, waiting for the container he stole when he thought I wasn't looking. "Now"

"That's unfair," he grumbles, handing over the pot.

"I'll let you have the ice cream if you get pregnant in my place."

"You win, you can have the ice cream"

-- ♡ --

"Do you want me to come in with you?" He asks and I bite my lip to keep from laughing, Carlos is holding my bag under his shoulder. Quite a scene.

"I need someone to hold my hand, and" I look behind him "I don't see any more volunteers, so smile, you've been selected" I smile, waving my index finger as if it were a flag.

"Okay, let's confirm that my intuition is right"

"Uh-huh, of course yes, cielo" I say, entering the office.

The obstetrician doesn't need to ask any initial questions, since I was here a few days ago, so asking how I am is irrelevant. I change into that horrible hospital gown and lie down on the stretcher, Carlos looks anxious in the passenger seat and my hand grabs his so fast I don't even register it, I laugh nervously as the cold gel is spread across my bulging belly.

"Let's hope he's being an exhibitionist today" she says confidently and starts to use the device.

"How can you understand anything here, it's all blurry" he says, approaching the screen. "Where is his head?"

"Shut up, chilli" I say, but I give a nervous laugh "I don't understand anything either, so let those who do understand tell you what we're seeing", I shake his hand and receive an eager smile.

"We're lucky today, he's turned around, or rather, she" she indicates on the screen and I start crying immediately, Carlos squeezes my hand and wipes my tears. "Congratulations, you will be parents of a very strong-willed girl."

"Oh, no, no, I'm just the family friend" Carlos corrects her, but this is forgotten, given how much I'm crying. "You're crying a lot, should I be worried, cielo?"

"I-I'm fine" I sniffle crying less, I'm having a little girl, I don't even know what to say, I'm exploding like fireworks "I'm fine, really"

"I'll leave you two alone" the obstetrician leaves and I feel, cleaning the gel from my abdomen and I am hugged tightly, Carlos supports me with care and zeal, there is so much between the lines here, so much implied.

"That little girl is so lucky to be born as your daughter" he murmurs, stroking my hair gently "a little girl, damn you were right, my intuition is shit"

I press my hands to his shoulder blades so hard I feel my fingers tremble. "Thanks for coming"

"There's no place in the world I should be, cielo"

"You want me to go to the next race? Why?"

"I like having important people cheering me on there, and Charles is bothering me to meet you" he says, painting the wall lilac, he's all dirty, there's dye in his hair, and of course, he is shirtless. As long as I don't have a knife at my neck, I will never confess that the vision is messing with me. "I will take care of everything, you can stay in the same hotel as me"

"You should stop taking care of everything, or you'll have a heart attack instead of appendicitis" I murmur, Carlos insisted that I sit and watch him paint, he even brought books, chopped fruit and even Alexa to play my favorite playlist. "Seriously Charles Leclerc wants to meet me? Why?"

"I have no idea, Charles must have heard it one of the times you called me" he replies. Carlos speaks so quickly that there's no way not to be suspicious, but I give him the benefit of the doubt, I'm sure Charles will tell me why.

"Mhmm, I know... Now I'm curious to meet him too... But the trip to Budapest can be so tiring..." I murmur, peeling the pear as I watch him slide the paint roller along the wall perfectly, Carlos is meticulous and perfectionist in everything he sets out to do, so I admire the paint stains in his hair and on different parts of his body, thank God the fan is on here, otherwise I would be melting from the heat, and having him there, almost naked, doesn't help much.

“It’s not like I’m going to let you take a commercial flight to Hungary, please Y/N, I’m not that petty!” He retorts, touching up the paint on the roller while giving me a quick look "You will go with me to Budapest, on a private flight and I will leave you staying in the same hotel as me, if you are worried, I will hire a private neonatal nurse to accompany us, but I really want you to go, it's important for me to have you two there with me."

"If you insist on that—..." I try to say, but he interrupts me.

"I insist yes, and I'm glad you agreed, I was ready to start the Infallible Convincing Plan for Carlos Sainz" he says and I laugh loudly "What? Am I not convincing?"

"Persuasion isn't one of your best qualities, chilli" I mutter, picking up the folded sheet of paper from among the books he brought me "changing the subject, I listed the female names that I liked most for the baby, feel free to give your opinion, I'm quite undecided here, I have good options."

"I'm listening, I hope they are good names and none taken from the books, considering how obsessed with A Court of Roses and Thorns you are, the girl is in danger of being called Feyre" Carlos shamelessly mocks me and I throw the pear stem at him. "I'm just telling the truth, cielo, but come on, give me the options"

"You know, Ancient Egypt has been my Roman Empire for years, so I thought I would pay homage to one of the greatest queens of that civilization, none other than Cleopatra, but" I pause, aware that Carlos will want to object, so I continue quickly "I chose to shorten the name, Cleo. It's a good option, right?"

"It's a beautiful, elegant and feminine name. I like it, you have a good option" he responds, with his back to me, giving a beautiful view of his lats contracting and relaxing. Oh God, what a hell of a handsome man.

"Well, the next option is Athena, as the Greek goddess of justice, wisdom and war, I don't think I need to explain further, right?"

"It's good, but I still prefer Cleo"

"I like Margot and Elena, they are both elegant and short, I didn't think about long and complicated names, I don't want her to have problems learning to write her own name"

"It's a good justification, giving her a name that's easy to read and write... So I still prefer Cleo"

"Don't you want to hear the other options?"

"Nope, I like Cleo, it's beautiful and very meaningful, and it matches her last name, she'll love it, when she understands it"

I hadn't thought about my last name when choosing the names, so Carlos' reasoning makes sense, so I already had a name chosen.

"Alright, we have a winner, I like Cleo too, thanks for helping me choose"

"You're welcome, we are here to serve well and always serve" he makes an exaggerated bow and I laugh.

"Oh really? My kitchen faucet is dripping non-stop, can you fix it for me?" I ask ironically and Carlos wipes the sweat from his face, giving me another meaningful look.

"Of course yes, cielo, I'll sort it out as soon as I'm done here"

"I'm kidding, chilli, you don't have to worry about it"

"But not me, I'll sort it out as soon as it's over" he insists and I give up trying to make him give up, Carlos is as stubborn as a wild horse, it's no wonder he's at Ferrari. Which makes me think of something:

"I agree to go with you, but I want to meet Lewis, it's my condition" I point my index finger and Carlos looks at me, raising his eyebrow.

"Really? I need to find out what makes Lewis Hamilton so appealing to the female audience" I can't identify the feeling in his voice, and I adjust myself in the seat, stroking my protruding belly. Being pregnant isn't easy, the nausea, all the swelling and fluid retention is horrible, I was already sleeping poorly because my belly wouldn't let me find a comfortable position and of course, I've already lost all my clothes. But I don't regret for a moment having continued with the pregnancy, my little traveler is a gift, Cleo already makes my days wonderful. I observe the lilac covering the walls little by little, making her room take on shape and color, soon the furniture would be assembled.

"I think it's the voice, he has a very good voice to listen to, I could listen to hours of ASMR of him speaking" I respond, hearing Carlos mumble intelligibly. "What did you think of color? I didn't want pink because I thought it was too obvious, and I love the combination of lilac and green"

"I like it, they are very pretty shades and you chose a good brand, they don't have a strong smell and they pigment well on the wall... I'm almost done here, where do you leave the tools to fix the tap?"

"Carlos, I was joking, don't worry about it, the plumber will come on Tuesday to fix it, I'm serious" I say, hoping he will forget this story. "Don't worry, it's serious!"

He puts the rest of the paint in the can and takes the paint roller to the laundry area. I even try to help, but Carlos forces me to sit down again when he returns from the laundry area. He himself collects the newspapers from the floor and opens the windows.

"I need a shower now, can I use your bathroom?"

"Obviously, feel free, I'll order a pizza for us" I say, following him to the living room, Carlos waves and gives a quick kiss and and go to my bathroom in the suite. I see how his jeans fit well on his hips, leaving the waistband of his underwear slightly visible and God only knows how that messes with my hormones. “Y/N, you fucking need to control yourself, he’s your best friend, stop acting like a needy bitch.

"Are you Y/N? Finally! It's a pleasure to meet you, Carlos talked a lot, a lot about you!" Charles tells me, giving me a tight, loving hug. He is really very handsome and It's easy to understand why his fans are so obsessed with him, he's gorgeous. He has an adorable dimpled smile on his face and I feel shaken all of a sudden.

"He also spoke a lot about you, Charles, it's great to meet you too" I return the hug.

"I hope he said good things"

"I tell her the truth!" Carlos shouted from afar.

Soon we are surrounded by the team, who are extremely warm and kind to me, but I feel claustrophobic among so many people.

"Okay guys, give her space, please, you're making her suffocate" Carlos appears as a salvation and takes me out of the crowd, Charles follows us to the empty area of the garage. "Are you okay, cielo? Here, drink some water, it's too hot and you can't get dehydrated." He offers me a disposable cup of water and makes me sit down. "I have to talk to my mechanics now, but Charles can take you for a ride in the pitlane, if that's okay?"

"Of course, of course don't worry, you can go, we'll be fine"

"Well, take care of them, Charles"

"Relax, being with me is the same as being with God, relax cabrón"

"That's what scares me" Carlos says and kisses me quickly on the cheek, not caring what it does to me, not that he knows.

"Ready? I'm going to give you the best guided tour of the pitlane" Charles interlaces his arm in the middle and guides me through the pitlane, he is approached by a lot of people, always being extremely kind and attentive, he makes some jokes while introducing the places and some people.

"Y/N! Carlos didn't tell me you were coming!" Lando comes running towards us and hugs me too, we were already close to the Mercedes garage, one of the employees told us that Lewis was in a meeting, so I decided to wait

"It was a last minute decision, there was no way to warn you anyway" I say while Charles takes a chair from the Mercedes garage and makes me sit down.

"Why did you meet her before me?! I hear Sainz talking about her all day!"

"I live in London and I met her during his visit, so I tagged along! It's not my fault you don't live in London!" Lando retorts and I laugh at them.

"Sorry if I'm Monegasque! I didn't choose to be born in Monaco!" My laughter echoes around the room and they stop arguing, and then they laugh too, but the moment is interrupted by Lewis Fucking Hamilton. He's more impressive up close, damn it.

"It's good to finally meet Carlos' girl, you've been the talk of the paddock, he says and my cheeks burn and he hugs me too. The four of us talk for almost forty minutes, Lewis is exactly what I expected, polite, kind and attentive, he really has the aura, that aura that few people have and that made it clear why he is one of the greatest in the sport. He's really impressive.

"Let's go to the garage chérie, you need to get some rest, it's too hot for you to stay out here" Charles says as he guides me to the Ferrari garage, where Carlos is already waiting for us, Seeing him is like a cool breeze on a scorching day, he looks so good in red that wow, it hurts to remember he's leaving the Tifosi.

"How was it? Did you enjoy the ride? Did Charles treat you well?" He asks and sizes me up, but I nod dismissively and hear Charles click his tongue, offended.

"I'm fine, Charles was a perfect gentleman to me, and we met Lando on the way, it was amazing!" I say.

"That's great, cielo, let's go to my room, you need to rest, there was a lot of excitement today" He takes me to his private room and lets me rest on the bed there, I don't mind, my feet hurt so much and I wanted to get some sleep, Carlos sits on the edge and rubs my belly, he looks strange, like he's uncomfortable. "Are you okay? How is Cleo?"

"We're fine, she's great" I reply and feel her move and kick, Cleo is Carlos' biggest fan, apparently, she always moves when he speaks, loves the sound of his voice and kicks in the exact place where his hand is. She's going to be his biggest groupie, and there's no argument.

I watch him, feeling my heart beat like a fool, Carlos has been exactly what I hope he will be, a friend, a great companion, he is always in connection with me, I hate knowing that I'm falling in love with him again, that I'm entering that gray area again, putting our friendship at risk because of my stupid feelings, so I'm going to swallow whatever I feel because I'm not willing to be without my best friend again, I couldn't bear to lose him and I want him to be part of my daughter's life, of our life. So it's okay for me to stay in the friend zone if it keeps him around.

"What's bothering you, chilli? You look strange"

"I... I need to tell you something"

"Carlos, if you brought me to Budapest just to kick me out of your life, I swear to God I will run you over with your own car!" I exclaim, trying to pinch his muscular abdomen but failing, obviously.

"What? Of course not, it's nothing like that" he laughs nervously "It's something else... Well, I know this shouldn't happen, and I don't even know how to tell you this, but spending the last few months with you It's been the best thing in my life, I love spending any available time with you and Cleo, helping you with everything, this has left an impression on me and continues to leave a lasting impression on me, I'm so grateful for allowing me to be a part of this."

He stops, leaving tension in the air, making me anxious.

"What I want to say, cielo, is that my feelings have changed, I no longer feel like your friend, I'm just falling more in love with you every day, I tried to avoid it, because we are friends, but it was inevitable and when I realized it, I was already in love. I know it's not the best case scenario, and I broke your heart before, so it's okay with me if you don't reciprocate, but please, let me stay close to you, close to Cleo, I already love this little traveler, I love her so much and it hurts to imagine not being around—..."

I didn't even notice when I sat down on the bed, but I notice the exact moment my hand grabs the collar of his red t-shirt and I kiss him. As I imagined doing since I was sixteen. Carlos responds almost immediately, there is urgency, care and satisfaction in his kiss, all spiced up by the sweet taste of cinnamon. It's exactly how I always imagined it. It's sweet, strong and intense.

"If it's up to us, you'll be with us forever, cielo" I say and he breathes a sigh of relief, kissing me again while leaving his calloused hand on my belly.

"I'm going back to London now, fuck it, my little girl is coming" he says on the cell phone, I hear the sound of him moving around the room, I breathe loudly when the contraction hurts and I want to cry, but I don't.

"No, no, you're saying goodbye to Ferrari, Cleo won't like knowing that her father is abandoning the race like that" I say in one breath. "We're fine, okay? Blanca is here with me and Reyes will be here soon, please stay calm, love and promise me you will win, for us"

Carlos whimpers and I stop holding him, bursting into tears, I wanted him with me there, but I would never forgive myself if he didn't race his last race with the Maranello team, and Cleo will understand in the future. I know it will.

"Cielo... This is fucking unfair" he kicks something and I sob "I wish I was there, you need me, both of you"

"Win the race, chilli, for us!" I scream because Blanca takes the phone away from me, because I enter the operating room.

-- ♡ --

Cleo is perfect, there is nothing Aaron about her, thank heavens and she is absurdly restless, she doesn't cry, but she doesn't sit still either. I'm absurdly in love with my little traveler, ga she is beautiful, healthy and was born at exactly the same time that Carlos won the race in Abu Dhabi, that didn't give him the championship, but it was extremely important for us, because the checkered flag waved when she cried.

"She's beautiful" Blanca is standing next to the stretcher, holding my daughter's little hand while Cleo breastfeeds, still with her eyes closed. The silence of the maternity corridor is broken by quick footsteps, the door to my room is opened with force and I see Carlos there, he still looks like a mess in his Ferrari overalls, messy hair and very, very tired.

He doesn't say anything, he just walks towards us and kisses my forehead for long seconds and looks at Cleo.

"I'll leave you alone" Blanca gives a suspicious smile and leaves the room.

"Lamento llegar tarde, pequeña estrella, pero gané la carrera por ti". He says in Spanish and I melt with so much love, Cleo seems to recognize his voice and calm down. "she is beautiful, too beautiful, I'm sorry for being late, mi amor"

"It's okay, chilli, you're here at the right time" I say, grateful to smell his expensive cologne, it feels like home and gives me so much comfort. "Thanks for coming."

"There's nowhere I want to be, cielo" he murmurs, carefully I make Cleo stop breastfeeding and cover her breast with the hospital gown. "are you really okay, cielo?"

"I'm, I'm fine actually... How did you get here so fast?"

"Fred left a jet ready for me, I just did the race, got the trophy and came here as soon as I could" he says, running his finger on Cleo's cheek. "She's so beautiful, her nose is identical to yours, happily."

"Do you want to hold her?"

He looks nervous, but accepts it. Carefully, Carlos places Cleo on his lap and walks around the room, talking softly to her, it's the most adorable scene in the world, my heart fills with love as I watch them.

"Cielo, will you marry me?" He says, still looking at the baby in his lap. "I want you close to me always, I want to take care of you, of Cleo. God, I love you both so much and I can't spend another day away from you"

"Are you serious?

"Damn it! I've never been so serious in my life"

"Yes, yes, yes! There is no one better for me, no better father for Cleo" I say in tears, and he comes over, sitting next to me on the hospital gurney. We both watch Cleo sleep in his arms, she looks comfortable and happy with him, just like me.

Months later.

"Let's go see daddy, sweetheart" I say, clearing the entrance to the paddock. It was Cleo's first race since she was born, Carlos had been looking forward to this race for weeks, but didn't want to travel with her so young, so I waited for the Silverstone circuit. I'm in the process of moving to Madrid, but it's happening gradually because of the racing, the 2025 season has been unusual, Williams is finally scoring well, Carlos is having a great season so far, so I thought it was only right that we came to support his race.

Cleo babbles happily, clapping her hands as the team members greet us and joke with Cleo, my little traveler laughs to everyone. She is Miss Congeniality herself, drawing attention wherever he goes. When we finally arrive at the garage, we are greeted by the sound of an engine being tested, the mess of Netflix with the team and Carlos aside, talking to Alex as if they were two old gossips, and when he sees us, he smiles so wide it shines like the sun.

"¡Mi estrellita!" He talks loudly as he comes towards us, Cleo claps her hands and laughs, making the cute baby sounds, getting the team's attention, I don't mind seeing my little girl be his focus first, this is part of what I idealize paradise to be. Cleo laughs as Carlos kisses and tickles her, so I go to greet the team, ask James what his predictions are for the day's race and talk to Alex.

"Where's Lily? I thought I'd have company during the race" I look around, trying to find her, but I hear Alex sigh.

"She's at a golf tournament in Asia, she won't be back until Thursday" he says sadly "She wanted to come, especially since it was Cleo's first race, but she couldn't miss it..."

"Oh, and will it be broadcast? I want to root for her" I say, the two of us spent a long time talking until Carlos came to us, they are both blushing and smiling, which makes my heart skip a beat.

"Hey cutie, I loved your blue jumpsuit it suits you so much" Alex holds out his hands to her and of course my daughter goes with open arms to him, Alex takes her for a walk and sees her cats, giving me and Carlos a little time together.

"Hey cielo, Thank you for coming, it's important to have you here" he says and kisses me, wrapping his arm around my waist, keeping me close."I like this dress, any special occasions?" He says, looking me from head to toe, I try not to blush under his malicious scrutiny.

"I thought we could have dinner today after the race"

"Oh, really? I think we can request a special babysitting service from Lando and Charles... And extend our dinner to the room, what do you think?"

"Excellent! We can make things better then" I suggest, playing with the zipper on his suit.

"And how do you intend to make things better, mi cielo?" He asks quietly, and suddenly everything around us disappears, leaving just the two of us there. The air becomes thicker and my breathing is heavy with anticipation.

"A bet, if you win the race, I'm in your hands, otherwise, you'll be under my yoke, what do you think?" I suggest softly, he laughs, running his tongue over his lips as he stares at me.

"I'm in, and I'm prepared mi amor, because I'm going to be at the highest place on the podium today" He assures me and kisses me, the team calls him to run, I find Alex and Cleo in the corner of the garage, both playing with one of his kittens.

"Come on baby, let's let Uncle Alex run" I pick Cleo up and she whimpers, wanting to keep playing with the puppy. "then we play with the kitten, love, I promise" I say to to comfort her, Alex promises to leave the kitten with Cleo later. The two drivers prepare for the race and I decide to watch from Carlos' room. Cleo is not used to the noise of the cars and I don't want it to become a nuisance for her.

The whole race is full of unforeseen events and surprises, no one is really expecting Williams to perform well, but Carlos and Alex are getting everything they can out of the car, putting pressure on Lewis and Lando in the first positions, the last laps literally become a game of musical chairs, the four exchange risky overtakes, the last lap is marked by an interesting exchange and Carlos takes first place, with Lewis in second and Alex in third. Cleo and I celebrated in the pilot room until we were taken to the garage, When Carlos arrives, he is euphoric and celebrates with the team, I love seeing his joy, how well he is with Williams. He comes to us and picks Cleo up, throwing her in the air and making her laugh. I'm taken by surprise when he kisses me, amidst applause and screams from the team.

"Thank you, thank you for everything, mi amor, I love you, I love our family"

"I love you, chilli, and I know Cleo does too" I respond, leaving my face close to his and kissing him again. I never thought that my life would have such a huge turnaround and that I would end up here, once again in love with my best friend and, on top of that, being reciprocated by him. I thank each and every entity that has guided me to this moment, I thank my incredible partner, my perfect family and our wonderful family.

I watch Carlos go get his trophy, he refuses to leave Cleo in the garage and she loves being in the middle of the mess.

And I love seeing them.

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ALL RIGHTS RESERVED TO S-AWTURN™ 🪐. I do not allow copying or republication. Any unauthorized publication will be reported.

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[elfgrunge]

This doesn’t mean a flat you happened to live in while a student, this means specifically student flats/dorms in a big student building.

Everyone I know in Ireland/UK has experienced the first two as far as I’m aware, but the third seems to be a more common American option? Tag your country if you want

I had 2 years in student accom and only ever had a private bathroom thank god

[massscara]

DRDT SPOILERS.

Theories and headcanons about the execution of the murderer of the second chapter.

And so... Since we know the murderer of this chapter (They is innocent, believe me), I want to share my guesses about their possible execution.

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My reasoning will begin with the fact that there are executions in danganronpa that not only reflect the killer's talent, but also contain things that they don't like ( Example: Mikan Tsumiki )

In her execution, you can see the oversize objects ( You can notice a large syringe, and then a huge hand and space appear ), which she doesn't like and is afraid of. All in order to make her fall into despair.

Following from Ace's Wikipedia, you can find out that he doesn't like horses and meat. ( But this is only from material things. I'll mention the rest later )

Of course, if he is a jockey, then the execution itself is more likely to involve horses, however, I would find his execution more interesting if it involves meat ( or some other food ). Based on these words, it can be concluded that there are two possible scenarios for his execution: a horse and food.

Food:

If we go on this trail, then since Ace has an eating disorder, then he can be under tremendous pressure from himself. He will either be forced to eat something, or he will soon become someone's food ( the same meat that he neglects )

Horses:

You can die in different ways because of horses, so I've given you a list of some historical figures who died because of a horse-related accident. Here are the highlights:

« He fell from his horse onto his sword and fell to his death »

« He was thrown from his horse into cold water and suffered a fatal heart attack or drowned as a result »

« He fell in front of a horse that stepped on his head »

« He fractured his skull when his horse stumbled and fell »

In general, I understand Ace why he is so afraid of horses. I think there are at least two possible scenarios ( they are divided into subtypes )

The first scenario :

I think a horse racing option is possible.

Subtype 1:

Horse racing contains a dangerous obstacle course. Ace goes through them all at first, but at the very last moment he messes up ( It is possible that Monotv cheated by giving impossible obstacles to overcome or outwitted him )

Subtype 2:

Ace successfully overcomes the same dangerous obstacle course, but his supposed opponent cheated and won. Ace's loss may anger those who bet money on him. That's why, let's say, they started throwing stones at him.

The second scenario :

Historical events. Executions of the Middle Ages. (both that I found are very similar )

Subtype 1:

To be hanged, drawn and quartered was a method of torturous capital punishment used principally to execute men convicted of high treason in medieval and early modern Britain and Ireland. The convicted traitor was fastened to a hurdle, or wooden panel, and drawn behind a horse to the place of execution, where he was then hanged (almost to the point of death), emasculated, disembowelled, beheaded, and quartered.

Subtype 2:

The remainder of the punishment might include hanging ( usually not to the death ), usually live disemboweling, burning of the entrails, beheading, and quartering. This last step was sometimes accomplished by tying each of the four limbs to a different horse and spurring them in different directions.

If it concerns 2 subtypes of the second scenario ( 1, in principle, too ), then it will be funny to put pressure on the moment with his already fragile neck.

And I'm going back a little to the moment when I was talking about Ace's dislikes! Of the non-material ones, he dislikes the following: being a jockey and being perceived as incompetent.

We know perfectly well that Ace is a rather short — tempered personality, most often acting impulsively due to aroused emotions. It can be assumed that his own execution will carry ridicule about his lack of professionalism and frivolous attitude to the sport in which he is so famous. It is possible that his entire execution will stupidly mock his desire to escape both from the killing game and from his daily life ( It was also the case with Teruteru, who was turned into his unloved food, and also presented on the cover of the execution in the form of a pig in honor of disrespect )

It is likely that in this scenario, he will be banally pissed off, which will make him act irrationally. And these actions of his based on negative emotions will push him to a fatal mistake.

That's all!

Thank you for your attention and time, because Ace is actually alive and not dead and it was all a prank hehehahHaehEhhaHahehe....

[lucawrites11]

my optimal lionesses line-up v ireland

i am going to this match and i am not afraid to insult sarina from my seat loudly if she doesn't play younger players for this one

A lot of players are on yellows and one more will put them out for the Sweden game so this is the main consideration in the creation of this line-up. It's two yellows for a suspension, Jess Carter, Ella Toone, Leah Williamson, Lucy Bronze and Chloe Kelly are all on one. This is also one of the easier games in the group and an opportunity to play some younger players.

Alessia Russo may be injured after leaving last week's camp early with a hamstring injury in training but I think that was minor and mostly precautionary however if she's not ready to play a full 90, I would like to see Aggie Beever-Jones start in her place. They've tried starting Lauren Hemp in the nine before and it regularly fails to produce goals. However, if Aggie Beever-Jones starts, I would like to see Fran Kirby over Grace Clinton to bring more experience to that front line and introduce someone that Aggie is more familiar with playing with rather than two young players connecting through that central channel to create a line-up like this:

Okay, so justifying my other choices. Firstly, England needs to start introducing a more consistent staring line-up for chemistry and game plans. This is not possible in the defence but consistency can be carried over in the attack and midfield with the exception of Grace Clinton. Hence, my choices of Russo, Hemp and Mead up front. I think they need all the chances to build up their chemistry possible so England can start scoring the goals they need to score. This especially comes with how they understand each other's movement. Clinton can slip into this as the best like-for-like replacement for Toone who can get up front to compensate for Russo's runs that create a midfield overload much needed for chances through the centre especially with both Wubben-Moy and Williamson unavailable to make these runs from the defence.

However, England will likely benefit from Ireland's lack of a midfielder with the talents to mark Keira Walsh out of the game which is why I have deemed it okay not to play Williamson and miss out on her midfield overloads that free up Walsh and allow her to make her crucial chance creating passes through the midfield. England will also benefit from Clinton's speed, allowing more of these passes to capitalise on as she can outrun her markers. Stanway and Walsh are further irreplaceable in the midfield, although I would accept Park in Stanway's role however with two inexperienced defenders, England would benefit from experiences in the midfield.

With all the yellow cards and injuries, England is limited in the defence. As a result, Greenwood despite being a stronger player at centre-back is the best option at left-back and fortunately links up well with Lauren Hemp so this isn't the worst scenario for England. However, it does leave England without a left-footed centre-back. Both Morgan and Le Tissier can play at right-back. However, with McCabe preferring the wings to score goals (though let's face it we have no fucking idea where she's going to play and quite frankly she shouldn't be given a positional label any more, she should just be called an outfield player because she plays fucking everywhere), it is better to play the more experiences player at right-back to possibly counter this and that would be Maya Le Tissier. However, Esme Morgan and Maya Le Tissier's positions in the starting line-up are interchangeable for me.

I want to see Keating make her competitive debut sooner rather than later, as a result, I think this would be the perfect time to give her a chance. She had minutes in the game against the Netherlands and with no friendlies coming up soon, I think this may be the only opportunity. If both Hampton and Earps are injured, she is the keeper we would turn to and she needs some competitive experience to remove the pressure and give England and herself the best chances in the future. She is a stronger keeper than most in the WSL and with Greenwood and Morgan in front of her she will be in the unique position of playing with a familiar defence to guide her.

If Niamh Charles makes the match day squad and Maya Le Tissier returns to the reserves, I would like to see Millie Turner play the centre back role alongside Millie Bright. In that scenario, Esme Morgan would take up the right back role to look something like this. (Left if Russo isn't fully fit and right if she is.)

Substitutes

With Mary Earps and Niamh Charles still recovering from injury, the match day squad (limited to 23 players) would be:

(players in italics are on a yellow and at risk of a suspension)

Hannah Hampton, Khiara Keating, Lucy Thomas/Anna Moorhouse Lucy Bronze, Alex Greenwood, Millie Bright, Leah Williamson, Jess Carter, Esme Morgan, Maya Le Tissier, Millie Turner Keira Walsh, Fran Kirby, Georgia Stanway, Ella Toone, Grace Clinton, Jess Park Lauren Hemp, Beth Mead, Chloe Kelly, Alessia Russo, Aggie Beever-Jones, Jess Naz

I think it would be sensible to give Charles and Earps a little more time, especially Charles, ahead of this game and not name her to the squad especially with the limits already placed on the defensive by the yellow cards and it being key that Le Tissier, as a right back replacement for Lucy Bronze, is named in the match day squad.

I do not trust this squad not to get yellow cards against Ireland despite managing it last time out, especially Lucy Bronze. Quite frankly, some of the players not on yellows are quite literally bloody miracles (*cough* Georgia Stanway *cough* *cough*)

Personally, I am a little disappointed in the match day squad as it would be a good space for Bo Kearns to make a debut off the bench and I think she would do very well against Liverpool and she's in the unique position of being one of the few future English midfielders who can play in a defensive midfield position. The lack of depth in the defensive midfield role hurt England in their matches while Keira Walsh was injured with Katie Zelem one of the few other English options available in this role and nowhere near the standard of Keira Walsh however I think Bo Kearns, despite being more of a central midfielder, does have the ability to learn this role and slip into it much like Patri Guijarro is able to do at Barcelona. I would like to see her make the squad over a player on a yellow card as a tactical decision. Ella Toone is probably the best option as a like-for-like change in the midfield squad list.

Considering this, this is the substitutes that I would like to see made throughout the game.

And if Russo is not ready for a full 90, these are the substitutes that I want to see made:

These crucial substitutes would allow England to keep the experience and also allow young players to get game time ahead of the 2025 Euros something that is crucial for developing a game plan similar to the one that won England the 2024 Euros. With qualifiers for both the World Cup and Euros getting increasingly difficult, there will be no more opportunities like Luxembourg and North Macedonia to give young players a chance and they are going to have to get their chances in these matches. Jess Naz, Aggie Beever-Jones, Missy Bo Kearns, Maya Le Tissier, Grace Clinton, Jess Park and Esme Morgan will all be crucial to England's future success and they need to get the chance at some point and these substitutions will be the way to give it to them. For me, the most crucial players to play with be Beever-Jones, Keating and Naz.

[eldritchgriffin]

Maybe people have already come to this conclusion, but I haven't seen much talk about it, so I'll make a post.

Spoilers up to the end of act 5 for In Stars and Time!

I think The Country is based on Iceland. Why? For one thing, it fits as "an island north of Vaugarde"

Granted, it's a bit far, but the isat world is only based on the real world, not a one-to-one translation. The other likely options would be Great Britain or Ireland. And the creator has made it very clear that it is not Britain.

Ireland seems more likely, but it's indicated that The Country is pretty cold. Siffrin's cloak is pointed out as being made of very warm fabric, and has been Crafted to keep them a comfortable temperature. Ireland may not be warm, but it's much more temperate than Iceland's subarctic climate. For this reason, I'm inclined to think it's Iceland, but it's worth mentioning that many things I'll point out below apply to Ireland as well.

Which brings us to the landscape

Iceland is on a tectonic plate boundary, and has beautiful mountainous landscapes. It also used to be largely forested, though most of the forests have been destroyed now. It also happens to have black sand beaches.

(Source)

I'd say that looks "dark like the night sky."

That's the main evidence I have, but I think it fits pretty well. Feel free to let me know if there's anything I've missed though!

[wuxiaphoenix]

Worldbuilding: Soap, Taxes, Consequences

Way too many writers seem to create dirty, decrepit fantasy or historical settings, without giving much thought as to why things might be grimy. Or why not.

For example, Victorian England, specifically London, is infamous for being dark, with choking smogs and lower classes regarded as filthy. There is a fair amount of truth to this... but historically, we as writers should look deeper. There were a lot of factors involved in this grime, but three of the big ones were heating, the window tax, and the soap tax.

...Yes, there was a tax specifically on soap. I’ll get to that.

All three of these were either directly caused by or exacerbated by the government. Timber was in large part reserved for ships and construction, so unless you had a lot of money to spend on firewood, if you wanted heat, it was usually peat or coal. Peat burns with a lot of smoke. A lot of smoke, to the point that it was doing about as much damage to lungs of the poorer folk who used it as all the tobacco in the surroundings combined. There are reasons it took a long time to get a handle on potential causes of lung cancer.

The better option - and yes, it was actually better - was coal. Only England’s local coal is a high-sulfur type, meaning besides heat and regular smoke you also got sulfur dioxide and its related acid compounds eating people’s lungs and etching everything else in sight. People are pretty sure this was the source of the infamous London fogs. (Though not entirely. Historians are still poking it to see if there were other contributing factors.)

So. That’s the smog. The window tax is Exactly What It Says On The Tin. Which made it very dark inside buildings, especially of the poor, because they couldn’t afford a yearly tax on taking advantage of natural light.

And here we come to the soap tax, the most rage-choking one of them in my mind. It was apparently high enough that good money could be made smuggling soap from Ireland (where there was no tax on it) to England to sell. Smuggling soap.

...Talk about your clean getaways.

But here you see the problem. If you’re already poor and you have to choose between enough food to survive on and enough soap to be clean... taxed soap makes your life much, much harder. Staying clean harder. Staying healthy harder.

And it has nothing to do with “oh, it’s the past, of course it’s more primitive”, and everything to do with a government deciding the best way to squeeze out more taxes is to tax something everyone has to use. A fantasy or alternate historical setting where there was no soap tax would be entirely different. And was, in Ireland just across the water - where there were the same problems with peat and coal, but even the poorest people tended to be clean.

Consider your world’s governments. What have they done well, and what have they (ahem) royally screwed up? And are your heroes just trying to stay out of the way of the worst insanity - or are they actively doing something about it?

It’d be a heck of a thing, to get arrested for smuggling soap....

[llyfrenfys]

Some really good notes from my post courtesy of @margridarnauds about that person accidentally using a white nationalist slogan to support the Welsh language:

I know someone who is doing a PhD on the Far Right and the co-option of cultural movements and these tags are bang on. Its the difference between a healthy nationalism and an unhealthy nationalism. A lot of this goes for Irish nationalism as well as it does for Welsh nationalism.

There's nothing wrong with (and arguably a lot right with) minority language preservation. It can be used for great good (strengthens community ties, preserves culture) but if co-option is not guarded against readily, it can also be used for great evil (see: using minority language struggles as an argument against immigration, for example).

The Far Right sees the cultural preservation of anything (white) and it's like a bat signal. These things are magnets for white supremacists and assorted fascists of all kinds. Which is why it is so goddamn important to be vigilant against people like that hijacking your movement.

I see a worrying amount of Welsh nationalists use (accidentally or not) the language of the far right to argue for Welsh language preservation. It can be as innocuous as advocating for a Welsh Academie Francaise to as obvious as insinuating that Wales must be kept "ethnically" Welsh in order to keep out foreign influence on the language. I see this go unchecked all the time in various Facebook groups for Welsh independence (most of which I've left since admins of these pages either don't know or don't care that people use their groups to share these sentiments).

Nationalism ≠ Fascism - but if you don't keep an eye on the company you're keeping, any well-meaning nationalist/independence or language preservation movement can be hijacked to promote hate. I only know a scant amount because I was only vaguely considering joining Yes Cymru a few years before they all went sideways (but I remember Owen Exie Hurcum talking about this on Twitter at the time) but the leadership of Yes Cymru began to squeeze out minorities from the group- nonwhite folks, gay people, trans people etc. Whole thing put me off from joining. I don't remember the full details but from the testimonies of others, the group was hijacked and steered into a reactionary way of being. Considering a large amount of Welsh nationalists also idolise groups like the FWA (Free Wales Army - a Welsh nationalist group formed in 1963 which tried to emulate the IRA in Ireland, with little success- mostly just playing paramilitary dress up) - whose symbol is this flag:

Even if the flag itself is based on Welsh folklore and is supposedly an entirely innocent, non fash design- it still is like a beacon to the Far Right who will take any amount of symbolic validation as a cue to join your movement and derail it for their own ends.

Which is why Celtic scholars, people with casual interest in Celtic languages and/or their respective cultures and civic nationalists alike need to be vigilant against those who would co-opt the field for their own twisted hate campaign.

So, one final thought,

Returning to my original post responding to that American chiming into Welsh politics from overseas. Please PLEASE be careful when wading into politics that isn't yours. Where the Far Right are involved, it doesn't take much to cause a dumpster fire - if you aren't 'on the ground' with these issues so to speak, you aren't in the firing line if your comments go sideways and enable/provoke the Far Right in this country.

If you have an interest in Celtic languages, countries and politics- you have a duty to be responsible with what you do and say. This isn't to say that you cannot engage with these topics- but that you should exercise caution lest you accidentally worsen an already delicate situation.

This has been your regularly scheduled Celtic anti-fascist tedtalk. Please reblog to make sure more people become aware of how delicate things can be and how to prevent fascists from getting a foothold in this field. Thank you.

[wadesprincessboy]

Fellow Jews, what box do you tick when asked ethnicity on a form? Ive asked people irl and they all say "pick what feels right" but i have no idea what "feels right" !

Like do i put NZ-European because my family is technically from Europe? This feels safest and is what i normally pick, because i am very white and dont want to overstep into a space thats not mine.

Do I pick MENA/SWANA because also technically my family is from the Middle East?

Do I put specifically where my family is from? Like Ireland, or Portugal? Or is that wrong since my family isnt there anymore?

Do I pick other and put "Sephardic/Jewish"?

Do I put Israeli? I dont think so because thats a nationality is it not? And i dont live there nor am I a citizen

Sometimes they give me "Jewish/Israeli" and I think thats odd, because one is an ethnicity and one a nationality and the two aren't the same but if its an option I pick it.

Do I pick multiple? Sometimes I put NZ-European and also Other and I think thats right, but sometimes they only let you pick one.

I once asked someone and they said im "trying so hard to be oppressed" and im "white so pick european obviously" and so ive done that but yeah idk?

Any thoughts?

[mariacallous]

For a decade, the husband of Michelle Bulang, a 44-year-old mother of four, made her life hell. He drank and gambled, failing to provide for her or their four children, even as he forbade her to work. He was also regularly abusive “physically, emotionally, verbally, and sexually,” Bulang said, choking back tears. Once, he poured boiling water all over her��her back and legs still bear the scars.

Bulang has since escaped the relationship and not seen her abuser in years, but on paper she is still married to him. The overwhelming power of the Catholic Church in the Philippines means divorce is not legal. That might be about to change. A divorce bill has passed the House of Representatives and faces the Senate, as the power of the church wanes.

“There are two policies which are seen as a litmus test of Catholic influence. The first is abortion, which is forbidden in the Constitution. And the second is divorce,” said Manolo Quezon III, a former speechwriter for Philippine President Benigno “Ninoy” Aquino Jr. There are only two countries in the world where divorce is still not legal—the Vatican City and the Philippines. Other heavily Catholic nations legalized the practice long ago, such as Ireland in 1995 and Spain in 1981. But the lingering influence of the church in a country where nearly 80 percent of the population is Catholic is proverbial.

Yet, from 1917 to 1949, divorce was legal in the Philippines. The right was only abolished in 1949 as U.S. control ended and the anti-clerical legacies of the Philippine Revolution faded. Under the dictatorship of Ferdinand Marcos Sr., the church became a locus for democratic opposition—even as the president was rumored to keep a divorce bill in his desk to brandish at bishops during meetings when he wanted to keep them in line.

The 1986 People Power Revolution that saw the end of Marcos also saw the peak of church authority. The revered Cardinal Jaime Sin, archbishop of Manila, called people to the streets to protest a rigged election. The Philippines faced a potential Tiananmen moment as tanks rolled. But they stopped as nuns praying the rosary knelt in front of the troops and crowds linked their arms behind them. Marcos fell and fled into exile. The new President Corazon “Cory” Aquino, known for her devotion, inaugurated a new constitution that enshrined democracy, banned abortion, and committed to preserving the family.

Those days are fading. “There is a realization that the Philippines is a secular state, and it should not be subscribing to church principles or doctrines, which we respect but not must not control the policymaking processes,” said Rep. Edcel Lagman, who has helped spearhead the divorce bill. On May 22, the bill narrowly passed the House of Representatives with 131 votes in favor, 109 against, and 20 abstaining.

Under the current system, Muslims, who make up about 5 percent of the country’s population, are allowed to divorce. For Christians, their options are to either having their marriage annulled through a civil court, modeled on the Catholic process—reasons including bigamy, psychological incapacity at time of marriage, or use of fraud or threats—or filing for separation—reasons including physical abuse, adultery, abandonment, homosexuality, and drug addiction and alcoholism. The new bill would allow people who currently seek separation for these reasons to now simply seek divorce.

The inadequacies of this system are well understood. It is both extremely expensive and very slow-moving, leaving victims, usually women, trapped in marriages to monsters. Stella Sibonga, a 47-year-old mother of three, has had nothing to do with her husband for decades. Dug out of hiding and marched to the altar after he got an 18-year-old Sibonga pregnant, he took his vows drunk and proceeded to abuse Sibonga and the children she bore. Out of despair, she twice attempted suicide. Later, he tried to kill her and her children with a machete.

In 2005, at age 27, Sibonga left him, and in 2012 she initiated legal proceedings to have her marriage declared null on the grounds of her husband’s “psychological incapacity.” In 2017, a judge ruled in her favor, but the Office of the Solicitor General, charged by the government with upholding marriage, appealed and won in 2019. The case is still ongoing. Sibonga estimates that it has cost her around 300,000 pesos—over $5,000—to pursue the case. This more than most Filipinos will earn in a year. Her experience of the court system is not unusual.

Those who would reform this system smell victory but are treading carefully, keen to reassure the potentially uncertain. “We sympathize with the concern of some of the conservatives as some states have given divorce a bad name. So they don’t want us to have a Las Vegas type of divorce,” said Paul Roxas, an activist with the Divorce Pilipinas Coalition. A recent poll showed that that exactly 50 percent of Filipinos supported divorce among irreconcilably separated couples, with 31 percent opposed and 17 percent undecided.

Navigating the Senate will be tricky. A divorce bill previously passed the House in 2018 but languished in the Senate. So far, at least seven of the Philippines’s 24 senators have are thought to be in favor of the bill. But four have voiced opposition to the bill, and another 8 have previously made statements against divorce. Still, Roxas is optimistic: “A significant proportion of the senators are sort of fence-sitting.” The Divorce Pilipinas Coalition is lobbying hard those they feel are persuadable and has staked out fall back concessions like only allowing people to divorce once in their lifetimes.

Should the bill pass, it will be the fourth big defeat the Catholic Church has faced in 12 years. In 2012, the Philippine government legalized contraception in the face of furious opposition from the church. In 2016, the presidency was won by Rodrigo Duterte, a man who cursed the pope during his campaign. Church condemnations of the man and the extrajudicial killings that took place in his “war on drugs” failed to dent his enormous popular support. And in 2022, the church all but openly opposed the candidacy of Ferdinand “Bongbong” Marcos Jr., son of the former dictator. Nonetheless, backed by Duterte, he romped home to victory.

With each defeat, wariness of church power seems to have faded. “In the Philippines, there is no Catholic vote—in other words, we should not be afraid of any reprisal from the Church during the elections,” Lagman said. Indeed, he claims that private polling shows that congresspeople who endorse the divorce bill actually stand to receive a bump in support.

Father Jerome Secilliano, rector of the EDSA Shrine built to commemorate the People Power protests, says things very different from 1986. “People were already exasperated with the government” when cardinal sin made the call, he says. Now, according to Seciliano, people are “exasperated” with a church they don’t feel is doing enough for them. “Let’s admit it we don’t have the resources to provide for the people,” he said. “We are a poor country, there are so many poor people, and poor people expect too much from you.” Instead, they turn to politicians who can offer patronage, cash, and practical solutions. “And people have more practical needs than the Mass.”

Cultural change is also part of the story. Gone are the days of Seciliano’s boyhood when he would press his forehead to the hand of elders and all heard the Angelus toll at 6 o’clock every evening. “When we talk about LGBT in the 1980s, perhaps people will still believe us. But now it’s 2024—because of the many different opinions offered, it’s now very politically incorrect to even call him homo or gay.” Indeed, the Philippines is already strikingly accepting of homosexuality for a Catholic country, and polling shows that young Filipinos are among the most likely to support the divorce bill.

Not all the cultural change is necessarily inimical to the church. Pentecostal and born-again Christians are making big inroads among the Philippines. Theological differences between Catholics and these groups that once caused bloody wars now fade as these churches make common cause on promoting socially conservative Christian values. One prominent opponent of the divorce bill, Sen. Emmanuel Villanueva, is the son of Eddie Villanueva, a former politician who founded The Jesus Is Lord evangelical megachurch.

Still, it’s not always so simple as that says Joseph Bonifacio, a former pastor with Victory Church, another evangelical megachurch. These non-Catholic churches are less monolithic in their attitudes. “This allows for other voices, including more liberal ones.” A recent statement by the Philippine Council of Evangelical Churches expressed opposition to the divorce bill, stating a preference instead for expanding grounds for annulment to dissolve the marriage. Given that the grounds for annulment are, with some caveats, close the grounds on which the current bill would grant divorce, the differences seem largely cosmetic.

The Catholic Church is trying to regroup. “The church needs to become a church of the poor,” Father Tito Caluag said. As the man who gives the evening Mass on ABS-CBN, the Philippines’s largest media conglomerate, he is perhaps the closest the Catholic Church has to a celebrity priest. Caluag is trying to take on this task himself reorganizing the church’s charitable efforts talking about professionalization, data analysis, and new fundraising that reduces reliance on single ultrawealthy donors. Notably past polls suggest the working poor are among those most likely to support divorce. Yet it is hard not to notice that the interview is taking place in the Village, one of Manila’s ultraexclusive gated neighborhoods. Caluag explains it was donated by a pious socialite, now deceased, and wryly accepts the irony.

Other tensions will be hard to solve, too. The church must also be a listening church, Caluag says, invoking the words of Pope Francis. “And we must genuinely listen. Because I’ve heard young people say we’ve talked our so-and-so, and he listened, but at the end of it all, he said was the same thing like nothing had happened.”

But he remains opposed to divorce—as doctrine requires all Catholic priests must be. For stories like Sibonga’s and Bulang’s, however, the church seems to have few answers.

[sometipsygnostalgic]

Due to a series of unfortunate events (a cancellation of all direct flights for 2 days), im going to be spending between 90 minutes and three hours in IRELAND of all places. The REPUBLIC of Ireland. I was not expecting this on my american adventure.

I wont get to do any irish things but im flying both flights with Aer Lingus instead of British Airways.

Here is my review of Aer Lingus which is by extension my review of Ireland:

- Holy SHIT this airbus is half the size of the boeing i was going to take. I expected it to have insane turbulence like the KLM washing machines but honestly it's no different to the boeing

- it is nice to hear announcements made in a celtic language first again, even if it's Gaelic and not Cymraeg. I look forward to seeing the "Casnewydd/Newport" sign when i finally take the train home, it's the first symbol of being in Wales.

- We left early. EARLY. On one hand this is leagues above all my BA flights that have never left on time. On the other hand if it left just 60 seconds late, id have recieved a free change of transfer plane. Now i gotta hope we get there "early" enough for me to get through customs and find my next flight. Better prepare to run but theres not much i can do about this. I just hope British Airways dont force me to pay for a rebooked flight because they decided 60 minutes international transfer time was enough (hah!) and i dont have superhuman speed.

- Im sat by an emergency exit. This has funny side effects. I get sliiiightly more leg room, but also im sat by the exit and the door is way, way colder than any other wall in the plane. It's not bothersome but it's funny how i have a free Cooling Wall.

- Internet is about same price as BA and i can use discord (good) but i cant use youtube (very bad, you should probably only go for for the im service)

- The dinner was about the same quality as the British airways food, but they had TWO meat options instead of one. I took the Beef Stew. Very yummy. They had cheese and tomato on the side instead of the cursed tomato couscous yoghurt that looks like strawberry muesli which british airways keep serving (prison food). I also really liked the chocolate mousse, slightly easier to eat than the chocolate brownie i get with BA, but i find it weird aer lingus serve most of their drinks in tiny cartons. Why??? At least i get a tiny water bottle with BA, like a souvenir. Also theres a tinier bread roll and no cheese with it, but the cheese felt out of place anyway. Not as out of place as the tiny creamer pot i get on both airlines, with no coffee in sight. It's like a shot.

- you dont get any free alcohol on this flight, you have to pay for your 1 can can of lager. With a credit card. Mine was in the overhead locker. Thankfully a guy on my aisle was feeling generous and bought my can. Downgrade from BA including 2 alcoholic drinks in the flights

- instead of a nice pasty or bacon egg roll for breakfast they gave me a tiny carton of orange juice and a Nature Valley granola bar. Horrible

- the in flight entertainment is on a screen from 2009 instead of 1999. There is no funny controller that stops working randomly. It is a normal ass touch screen. Unfortunately i lost my provided earbuds at the start of the flight so i havent done anything with it

- no reclining chair on this airbus :( it's an overnight flight. My chair is missing an arm but i assume thats because it is by the emergency exit

- BA do this thing where they dim the lights and turn them back on an hour before arrival. Aer Lingus have decided to "dim" the lights by having these purple lights on, instead of turning them off.

More to come when i arrive at the airport

[phantom-of-the-memes]

Alternative fashion people who shit on others in the community for not getting their wardrobe exclusively from thrifting (or DIY), please listen.

NOT EVERYONE IS FROM A BIG COUNTRY WITH PROPER THRIFT STORES!!!

In Ireland we don’t have thrift stores we have charity shops. Same concept; people donate clothes for free and profits the shop make go towards charity. The issue is they are very very small. I see videos of (mainly) Americans in massive thrift stores with clothes for all ages and styles. Like you really can find good pieces there. And it’s of course cheaper than retail alt brands.

Our charity shops are like the size of an average bedroom. It’s takes you really not long to look around. The vast majority of clothes in there are from and for middle-aged and elderly women. The only kind of good selection they have is in old DVDs. But even then that depends on the shop. When I go “thrifting” all day, visiting 10 or more shops in a day, I’ll come home with maybe one pair of plain black jeans and two DVDs. It’s just not the same!

For certain styles it’s a bit easier. Also if you wear feminine clothing. If you have the DIY and sewing skills that’s great, maybe you can make it work. But please believe me when I say this island does not have goth/ emo clothes in charity shops.

The exceptions to this rule is the new “thrift” or “vintage” stores opening now in Dublin and other cities. Issue is, they’re not fucking thrift stores! They find “vintage” clothing, add their own tag to it, and sell it for €100-€200!! Also, the styles they sell are only the mainstream trending style at that time. Rarely anything alt. There is one store I believe in Dublin that has “vintage” alt clothing. But again, it’s overpriced, for feminine people, and usually small sizes.

Like correct me if I’m wrong! I know there definitely are ways of making it work. But as a chronically ill disabled person, I don’t have the energy or strength to DIY. Of course the mainstream stores that have cheaper clothes are an option for things like pants and stuff. But people demonise those stores due to their environmental impact and unfair labour. Which I of course agree with! So that leaves you to buying alt fashion online that’s more expensive but slightly more fairly made? And still cheaper than “vintage” stores.

I don’t know. Basically I just think you can’t really make blanket statements with these kinds of things. Your country may have the giant thrift stores, so you can be more environmentally friendly and ethical. But some people come from small places! Especially if you live in a small town/ the countryside. If there even is a charity shop, it’ll only appeal to your mum or granny.