#enzo knows better than either of them...

[lilacerull0]

most of the time i am deeply freaked out by these books, but then i remember the ultimate message is that they're called MY BRILLIANT FRIEND!!!!!! elena really said the most historical and the most unshakable truth about your life is that i loved you. elena's history book as an antithesis to all history books.(this is why it is the best one)

[aoflameandco]

Netflix DanteLady: in depth analysis

I ship Dante and Lady. And it makes really hard to miss a big controversy, surrounding the Netflix version of characters. There's a lot of negativity out there, and while I see some valid points, my shipper heart absolutely disagrees with the harsh takes on DanLady's development. So let's break it down and highlight some nice things about this particular interpretation of our beloved ship.

Warning:

1) This post treats the Netflix anime as its own thing. I'm not comparing the show's DanLady to the game's DanLady maybe some references aside bc imho it would request another big meta and a couple more Seasons to make a fair judgment.

2) The analysis mainly focuses on the scenes that Dante and Lady share together. The show also likes to draw parallels between them, but once again, I'd need another big meta to cover that. maybe one day

3) I call Lady "Mary", bc that's who she is from her POV right now. I like Lady better too and know the dmc3 nuances, but the show didn't reach the point yet.

Starting from the bottom

She hated demons with a passion. He exterminated them with joy. So much in common and yet — a shared distaste for the demonkind caused an all-time-low first impression.

But things looked fun at first! At least from Dante's POV. Just when the party seemed to be almost over, another pretty guest flew through his window. There's no doubt that Dante was having a blast, dominating the entire battlefield, so he accepted his new challenger eagerly, his wild grins don't lie.

Too bad, Mary was a woman with a mission. Careful calculation behind every move. Strategy instead of brute force. If her theory is correct, it's the only way she can win. And she succeeds, securing the amulet. The soldier's cold mask falls for a second, revealing how much she enjoys being in control after Dante carelessly underestimated her.

Jokes are over, Dante is pissed and Enzo's suggestive remarks the og captain of the ship don't help either. He doesn't care about the pretty thief, all he wants is to keep his sacred promise and return his precious necklace.

And so the battle for dominance begins. The episode emphasizes that Dante and Mary are birds of a feather. Both smirk when they think they have situation under control, about to catch their prey. It's not a sweet kind of smirk, they're serious and even manage to cause minor damage, but Mary wins this round by introducing an anti-demon weapon Dante never saw before.

Time to test the demon theory. Which completely takes Dante by surprise. No wonder, the whole animation looks rather suggestive, if we ignore Mary's gun pointed right at him. But that's not what confuses Dante the most, it's Mary's words. A mere thought of him being a demon is quite insulting, so he immediately laughs at her failure, hiding his own stupor behind cheeky jokes.

But this lady is too smart for her own good. She continues her musings, so deep in thought that she loses her grip, and Dante is quick to use it against her. His ruthlessness gives another hint that she has touched on a sensitive topic, triggering him further.

Mary immediately retreats, most likely blaming herself for relaxing in front of such a cunning foe. Her jumps and blasts are more uncoordinated than usual, she clearly panics and Dante has to save her at the last second from his own counterattack.

And he's still mad and demanding answers. Although the scene clearly references "my type of rain" this Dante is in no mood for flirting. The gentleman dies: he slams Mary's wrists against the wall, ignoring the close proximity he created, yanking her body like a rag doll, when she touches his nerve.

To Mary's honor, she keeps her cool even cornered, this time determined to overpower her opponent mentally. Dante's anger makes it easier, yet her cocky pocker face falls under his touch. That's really not her type of "getting personal", though he walked right into her trap.

The whole scene radiates the hateful tension that is clearly mutual. Both are a bit too petty. For example, Dante takes offense at Mary's implication that he's a brainless demon and he immediately rubs her current helpless situation in her face. Only for Mary to strike back a minute later. A great uno-game, what to say.

Slightly touching on the topic of power scaling: nope, the show doesn't make Mary stronger than Dante. Even though currently she's way down on his favorite people list, Dante has no intention to kill her, because: A) He got his morals and B) He seeks information, which she processes. And Mary thanks to the extra ammo and lack of moral limits takes full advantage of it.

Dante's hot anger subsides the next morning. Maybe because he's had time to calm down, maybe bacause Enzo's presence provides him sort of comfort their bond is truly wholesome. Either way, he decides to stand his ground, calmly denying all the demon allegations.

Meanwhile Mary's cold hatred has grown. After nearly failing the exam she did her homework — this damn hellblood won't ever get the upper hand over her. Mary demonstratively ignores Dante's small talks, turns away whenever he opens his mouth, takes every opportunity to punish him for his silly escape tactics, bluntly dehumanizes him referring to him as a "thing".

While, yeah, Mary is being a bitch in this episode, the reason behind it isn't just a sore victory. Dante is ruining her simple world. Demons are bad. But Dante is acting like a deviant, so human-like, Mary can't help but think that he's up to something. She doesn't believe in his ignorance, she tries to warn Baines that even a half-demon is a demon and doesn't deserve any special treatment. And she surely is annoyed that Dante denies his blood and has a sad backstory, quite similar to her own. Nope, she won't succumb to this demon's manipulations.

Yet, despite her cold facade, Mary isn’t as heartless as she pretends to be. After Rabbit's attack she pauses for a second to make sure her prisoners are in fact fine, before running to her teammates. And for someone who was so enthusiastic about the bomb in Dante's neck, she certainly seems a little too concerned when she realizes he’s crossed the one-mile radius.

Still at this point of story DanLady are bitter strangers. Dante isn't one to hold long grudges (given his dynamic with Enzo), but Mary's hostility doesn't help his insecurity about his origins. Meanwhile her prejudice prevents her from seeing him for who he is. They both value the amulet above all else, so they spare no extra though for each other, before diving into their own separate arcs. Which change their perception of demons forever.

Change of heart

Next reunion highlights the progress both Dante and Mary have made. She has realized that the world isn't black and white, there're different types of demons out there, even those she can't consider her enemies. And he has faced the truth, came to terms with his father's heritage and been forced to see the world through the eyes of a demon himself.

The character's journey greatly affects their dynamic. Mary doesn't hesitate to save Dante from Rudra. And Dante immediately confesses that she was right about him all along. Burying the hatchet of their first disagreement, they slowly learn to compromise.

Mary lowers her gun once Dante confirms that he won't transform again. Given how wary she was of his human form before, the new info about his power-up would naturally raise her alertness, but she trusts his words now. Besides, she isn't afraid of him, she's pretty comfortable with his harsh truths duh, she already figured it out And that means a lot to Dante, who's still struggling with self-acceptance.

Still having his head blown up might be quite a painful experience, and Dante can't help but tease about her change of approach. Mary simply rolls her eyes, but still accepts him as a reluctant ally, untill the amulet tears them apart.

The first sort of teamwork estabilishes who's the braines and who's the brawn. Dante certainly prefers a direct confrontation while Mary engages in a battle of wits with Rabbit. Still, it's impossible not to notice her distressed state, and even though Dante feels awkward witnessing it, he doesn't walk away as soon as he is instructed to work solo. In fact, he pays attention to the smallest shifts of her mood.

His attentiveness and demonic instincts save Mary's life. He cradles her close to his chest, shielding from the blast. Mary certainly has no time to react when he jumps through the window with her in his arms. Looking very mad. No wonder, his strength keeps being tested, but he's determined not to let anyone die on his watch.

Mary wakes up to find herself in a rather compromising position. Dante groans beneath her, for the first time she sees his face so close. And she's mesmerized, his soft surprised gaze doesn't help either. It's a very short lived moment of vulnerability between them, where they're stripped of their confident, smug demeanor. A blush covers her cheeks, and Mary rushes to break the magic, too afraid of the unspoken feeling that has arisen between them.

While this scene surely echoes the classic tsundere trope, Mary's reaction is easy to understand. She's a soldier, a tough one, who can't afford the luxury of weakness. Dante's existence was already confusing enough, and she'd just come to terms with his not-so-bad demon side — but feeling something for him? No, no, no, that's taboo! And so she lashes out at him in frustration.

Dante's reaction is slower. To his credit, he took the brunt of the fall on his own back, which hurts even with his healing, but the grimace of pain magically disappears when he meets her eyes. Unfortunately, he gets no time to enjoy the view, because his face meets her palm too quickly. There she's, the lady he knows, brutal and rather ungrateful, not that he expected a thank you. Well, his pout might tell other story.

Still, his soft spot for Mary is clear as day when he tries to console her about the fallen soldiers. She is also a good listener and Dante confides in her so easily, telling her about his father and the mission he intends to inherit from him. Too bad, she has other plans.

Another disagreement emerges between the pair. Both believe that Rabbit is their personal nemesis, while the other party should stay away from him. The truth is that both are wrong, bc the Rabbit's heart is big enough to hate both Darkcom and Sparda.

Anyway, while Mary's "courtesy" is definitely not for every court, she doesn't knock Dante down, even though it would've been more convenient for her plan. But at this point, she definitely sees him a person. A person she struggles to reason with, heck, the "demonic dumbass".

Dante, who just can't catch a break with his lady, is very unamused by the following development. But instead of anger, his expression is closer to despair. As if it's not just a matter of a stolen fight, but also the fear that someone will die in his place. Again. Eventually, he'll be able to break free from the truck, but who knows, if Mary will be alive by then.

In this end, this small arc points the growing attachment between the two. Mary's presence and honest approach help Dante grapple with his own insecurities, and it's clear how much he needs someone to lean on in his vulnerable moments. Meanwhile, Mary realizes that the guy in front of her is too pure for his own good, far from the cunning demon she imagined. His kindness and relatable family values keep messing with her head, but she shields her heart, knowing full well that his careless actions put the entire world in danger.

Back to back

Mary's change of heart doesn't escape Rabbit's attention. No matter how indifferent she tries to sound, using Dante's life as a bargain, her opponent calls her bluff. Without even realizing it, Mary lets it slip by using Dante's name and considering him a part of both species. The fact that she never planned to detonate the real truck adds to the point. Even though from her POV the human world would have been saved without Dante around he'd have probably survived it though and she was never into Baines' idea of using him as a weapon, she just can't. He's no longer a "thing," not an evil demon to her.

Mary's plan was quite self-destructive from the start, but lucky her, her knight in the red armor is punctual. Once again Dante saves her, giving her a cocky grin, a silent "told ya". Instead of gratutude he gets a groan from the paralyzed Mary. Of course, she's furious because he ignored her warnings again and walked right into a trap.

Mary hates being helpless, but she underestimates how much her mere presence helps Dante. He remembers Eva's words about Sparda just by looking at her. In this moment, Lady embodies the world he wants to protect. Her voice of reason is his wake up call, she drives his doubts away, leaving Rabbit no chance to use Dante's insecurities against him.

Mary does her best to be useful. She warns Dante about the poisoned blades and breaks through her paralysis to join the fight. But she still isn't strong enough, causing Dante to worry sick about her. Since this episode his protectiveness reaches a new level.

After the fight Mary reaches him, noticing, that he's again troubled by Rabbit's words. And she talks about his mother's necklace. It's a small thing, but she doesn't call it an "amulet" — instead, she understands and points out the special meaning this victory has for Dante personally.

Given this, it is no wonder that Dante looks extremely happy when Mary confirms that she will not take his amulet anymore. Too bad, both misunderstood each other. Dante is full of hope, that Lady has accepted him as the best protector. Mary — confident that Dante has understood the danger and will cooperate willingly from now on.

That's where their third conflict blossoms. But unlike the previous ones — about the demon nature or the Rabbit fight — this one lacks the edge and feels like a flirting banter. Especially if you watch their body language and face expressions closely, both are challenging each other, clearly enjoying the tension. The changes Enzo the og captain of the ship immediately notices and points bluntly. Funnily enough, none of the two try to beat allegations.

At this point Dante uses "we" heavily, viewing himself and Mary as an inseparable team, after everything they went through. His childishness is contagious and Mary finds herself engaging in his silly points, arguing about their saving score. Still, she reminds him that's she is a part of Darkcom and that's not just a matter between them two.

Dante's sympathy for Lady doesn't apply to her organization at all, and their opinions on Baines' methods clash. Ironically enough, Baines decides to play a harsh boss right afer Mary defends his honor. But Dante isn't one to watch how his lady get reprimanded in front of him. Besides, he realizes that he's the main cause of her struggles, and quickly covers for them both with a lie. Mary, still visibly torn, agrees and doesn't reveal that the amulet is in fact in his pocket.

However, Baines sets the stage to make the choice between heart and duty even more difficult. Once again the Lieutenant Mary Ann Arkham is acting out of character, questioning orders and hesitating to take the "demon" in custody. For someone who teased Dante about blusting his haircut a minute ago, Mary looks terribly hurt when she actually gets an opportunity to do so.

The inevitable confrontation gets cancelled by the mutated Rabbit, who gives DanLady a chance to show the best of their teamwork. Without hesitation Mary entrusts Dante with her gun, but his unholy strength quickly breaks her gear. They even find time to bicker about it, between the shooting and strategizing. Dante's face doesn't look very remorseful though, it seems he enjoys being scolded by her.

But his confident smirk vanishes immediately when his partner gets hurt. Once again, Dante can't hide his fear of losing Lady. Her life has skyrocketed to the top of his priorities: after the helicopter crash the first thing he does is checking on her, rather than securing his precious necklace.

Mary is hard to kill though. Not only does she always rise up, but also comes to Dante's aid at the most critical moments. She pays her debts, saving him twice. Finding the strength to pilot a helicopter and fire the last anti-demon bullet, when Dante is cornered. His influence on her is hard to deny when she adapts his famous catchphrase for her final shot.

The way they look at each other after the enemy is defeated speaks volumes. They won and saved the world, working together. Quite a solid foundation for a bond.

Sunrise finds them together on the bridge, the shortest distance between them. Mary consoles Dante over Enzo's death, at this point perfectly understanding how much the loss affects him. She sees right through his cheerful facade and when Dante tries to escape with another joke, she opens up to him too. The honesty is mutual and Dante tells her of his latest discovery: his brother may be alive. Finding Vergil becomes his primary goal. But suddenly Dante, the former lone wolf Dante, who didn't want anyone to pry into his family's affairs — invites Lady to come with him.

This is not something Mary ever expected, her expression softening, surprise evident in her eyes. Dante doesn't give her a break, immediately coming up with the name for their future duo. It all makes sense from his perspective, they fight great together, they complement each other, they share similar regrets, they'll make it work. The only snag is the order of their names and Dante laughs heartily, looking genuinely happy for once.

Little did he know about the turmoil his Lady was going through at that moment. Her weak smile dies with their silly argument and shifts into a somber expression. And she does what her duty requires, looking absolutely heartbroken.

The disbelief on Dante's face doesn't make Mary's explanation any easier. Yet, as he falls, we see Lady from his slowly blurring POV — and it's not the face of a traitor, but the small lost figure of someone who regrets this outcome deeply. Her guilt echoes in her apologize, which, sadly, he can no longer hear.

Their last crucial disagreement finally comes to light. Mary has witnessed the danger of a demon invasion first-hand, so she can't let Dante and his amulet go on another risky adventure, especially knowing how unstoppable he'll be with his newfound motivation. And even though Mary the person clearly sympathizes with Dante's passion, Mary the soldier makes the final decision. However, it immediately backfires, because it's Baines who throws the safety of their world into the trashcan.

Well, long story short, it's hard to deny how much the bond between Dante and Mary has changed over the course of the first season. From bitter enemies to reluctant allies to ride-or-die comrades. All with a tension in the air that the show isn't shy about calling romantic. And yet, Netflix DanLady takes a complicated, but realistic route.

Lady doesn't join Dante at the end of the day, and they don't walk into sunrise hand in hand. After all, they've only known each other barely more than a day. That was enough to develop a great sense of understanding and care for each other, but not enough to give up their old lives. Both still in the middle of their character arcs. Mary isn't ready to be Dante's Lady yet, but her trust in Darkcom is clearly crumbling. Dante's straightforward approach would've result in the world's collapse if Mary hadn't cover for him, he still needs to learn to be less reckless. And the next Season looks very promising for both of their arcs, which will clearly collide at some point and take their relationship to the next level.

Thanks for reading till the end! Of course, this analysis is nothing but my personal interpretation. I'd love to hear your thoughts too! What do you love about Netflix DanteLady? Are you looking forward to Lady's "redemption"? What do you expect from Tony Redgrave? Please, let me know 😌

[urcoolgf]

WHAT’S YOUR DEAL? PT. 7

pairing. childhood bsf¡rafe && childhood bsf¡reader

content. fluff

summary. just a cute fluff chapter of you and rafe getting used to being together (enzo will be dealt with in the next part, just give them this cutesie moment)

SERIES MASTERLIST

you and rafe had spent all day together. it was nice—things weren’t back to normal, they were better. you and rafe were currently curled up on the couch—it was about 8pm, but your dad requested you don’t go out too late tonight because of his ‘family plans��� for tomorrow. you didn’t mind, and you didn’t think rafe did either. you had turned on some movie that was actually interesting—not to rafe though. all he could do was look at you, his right arm slung around you while his left hand played with the hem of your shorts.

sometimes his right hand would aimlessly explore your hair, running his fingers through your scalp. it felt nice—not only did you have your best friend back, but now it was something different. rafe just seemed… happier—like a weight had been lifted. you weren’t sure how long he had felt the way he did, but—sitting here, right now, curled into his chest while his fingers roamed all over you—you were glad he had confessed. you never expected this, but now that it was here, you couldn’t imagine it being any other way.

“y’wanna do somethin’ fun?,” rafe’s soft voice cut through the low hum of the tv, looking down at you.

“my dad wanted us to stay here tonight,” you replied plainly, not taking your focus off the screen.

“i know… but ‘m jus’ really in the mood for one of those soft pretzels from the gas station down the road,” that caught your attention—he knew those were your favorites, and you hadn’t even gotten one yet. your head snapped up to look at the mischievous smirk spreading across his face. a similar one took place on your lips because of it.

“okay fi–,” before you could even finish, rafe was off the couch. he reached down to grab your waist, and throw you over his broad shoulders, your soft giggles filling the air.

he finally set you down near the door so you could both put on your sneakers. both of you quietly walked out the door, careful to close it softly since your dad's bedroom was nearby.

—

the walk to the gas station wasn't too long—maybe 10 minutes—so, you pulled out your phone, shuffling your playlist titled 'Sounds like love'.

Disco by Surf Curse poured through the speaker of your phone. rafe just looked at you—wide smile on his face like he had never seen something more beautiful. you slipped your phone into his pocket, grabbing his hands, and beginning to move to the beat. you were walking backwards at this point, dragging rafe with you. he had no complaints—a genuine laugh left his lips, and you had never seen him so happy. it warmed your heart.

admire all of you

but fire burns me, too

can't stop that disco getting through

can't stop that disco wanting you

'cause there's nothing like it, locking my eyes with you

rafe held his arm up, spinning you like a dancer. your laughs were like music to his ears, and he swore life couldn’t get any more perfect than this. he motioned for you to jump on his back so he could carry you the rest of the walk. songs continued to play from his pocket until you arrived. you didn’t talk, just rested your head on his shoulder. your arms slung around his torso while he held you up by your thighs which were wrapped just above his hips.

you gave him quick kisses on his cheek or neck while he carried you.

“thanks for the ride, ray,” you whispered into his ear, giggling before you could finish your sentence.

“anytime, princess,” his signature smug smirk present on his face.

once you had finally made it to the gas station, rafe set you down easily, and the two of you made your way inside.

you grabbed the pretzels out of the mini heated carousel (i have no idea what they’re called), and then made your way over to the slushie machines. you never really got to have slushies except for when you were here. you and rafe had gotten them every vacation since you were kids—when you were little, rafe even taught you to mix the different flavors: cherry and coca cola to make cherry coke, cherry and blue raspberry to make… well you weren’t exactly sure, but it tasted good.

after rafe paid the cashier, you headed back outside. rafe wasn’t ready to let this moment go yet. he shoved the pretzel into his mouth, handed you his slushie, and motioned for you to get back on his back.

“rafe, you can’t carry me! you have a pretzel in your mouth, idiot. eat it first. then you can,” you laughed, scolding him like you were his mother.

“fine. but, if you don’t get on my back do you promise to follow me?,” he had a childish look on his face, like he was genuinely expecting you to promise him.

“follow you where?,” your brows furrowed together. you weren’t even supposed to be out now, and rafe wanted to stay out even longer?

“doesn’t matter. you can’t ask questions. promise?,” his hopeful face made you melt. you just couldn’t say no to him.

you nodded your head, raising your arm to tell him to lead the way.

you followed without complaints. eventually he finished his pretzel, and once again, wanted you to get on his back.

“fine! fine! you’re so weird,” you laughed, holding your hands up in joking surrender before hopping onto his back. his hands cold against your thighs from the slushie cup he was previously carrying.

you were only on his back a little longer. the sun was beginning to set just as you guys had arrived at rafe’s destination.

“here we are princess,” he said, plopping you back down on your feet. he had led you to the beginning of a forest of some sort.

“and where exactly is ‘here’?,” your puzzled expression made him chuckle slightly. he just took your hand in response, guiding you toward the path through the trees.

once you came out the other end, there was a tiny beach—it couldn’t have spanned more than 50 feet. it was clean, but obviously secluded. the sun cast a light right above the water, the pinks and oranges of the pre-sunset sky reflecting off the calm ocean.

“ray…,” you began, but you didn’t really know what to say. it was gorgeous.

“beautiful innit?,” he turned toward you, big smile on his face. the sun cast a perfect glow onto the side of his face. you admired him for a moment before turning back to the water.

“yeah,” you sighed, eyes glued to the image in front of you. you had seen many sunsets before, but something about this one felt magical. rafe moved to sit on the sand, patting the spot next to him, urging you to join him. of course, you did. he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you close to him.

the two of you watched as the sun set. the hand that was slung over your shoulder placed itself on the side of your face, making you turn your head towards rafe.

“hey,” he whispered, leaning in towards you.

“hey,” you whispered back, a small smile forming on your lips.

“‘m gonna kiss you now, ‘kay?,” he asked, but it wasn’t really a question—more of a warning.

“mkay,” you nodded lightly. a smirk took over his face before he leaned fully into you, colliding his lips with yours. it was so strange—not because it actually felt weird, but because it felt natural, as if you had done this for years. as if your lips had been made for his.

he pushed a little deeper, testing how far you would let him go, exploring new territory. you let him. his tongue pushed through your lips, making contact with yours and your world stopped. you moved your hands to the sides of his face, pulling him impossibly closer before moving them to the back of his neck. your manicured nails raked lightly against his warm skin.

you eventually pulled from each other, both staring as if you couldn’t believe what just happened. rafe leaned forward once more to give you a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“let’s go home, baby,” he said quietly. you just nodded in response, standing and dusting as much sand off you as you could. rafe grabbed your shoulders, forcing you to spin around so he could swipe the sand from the backside of you—he definitely just wanted to touch your ass, but you weren’t complaining.

you grabbed your phone out of rafe’s pocket, playing your music and slipping it back in his pocket before hopping on his back once again. he didn’t even have to tell you this time, you just wanted to.

a soft song began to hum through the air.

spring into summer, and the winter’s gone

i try to hold on to it, but the current’s too strong

somebody finds me in the state i am

love you like i mean it when i know i can’t

you rest your head on his shoulder the same way you did on the way to the gas station, taking in his scent, the feeling of his skin against yours, the lingering sensation of his lips.

hold it against me, cool to the touch

nobody knows what it’s like to be us

somebody finds me in the shallow end

love you like i mean it just because i can

“i like this song,” rafe said unexpectedly, turning his head slightly to try and look at you.

“yeah?,” you asked, a curious smirk on your face, “it’s ours then.”

“nobody knows what it’s like to be us,” he noted to himself.

“nobody knows what it’s like to be us,” you repeated, moving your head from his shoulder to place a kiss to his cheek, and move to wrap your arms over his shoulders.

by the time the song ended, you had arrived back home.

you took your phone out of his pocket, adding the song to a new playlist.

‘Feels like love’.

an: i didn’t realize it had been a few days since my last update on this little series—apologies! also not proofread…

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[alicethenobody]

Thinking about how fucking ridiculously kind Dante is.

Trish lured him to Mallet Island through manipulation which lead to him “killing” (we know Vergil survived but he didn’t) his brother but he still forgave her and offered her his kindness, empathy, and even trust and friendship. His kindness impacted Trish so much she was able to become her own person outside of Mundus’ influence. Speaking of helping people change for the better, in DMC X he fights Credo and even though this guy is out for his blood he only wants to help him change his ways and manages to convince him to do the right thing. Which I think is what lead to him protecting Nero in his last moments. The canonicity of DMC X isn’t stated but considering the fact that we know Dante was originally supposed to have a longer campaign I can’t help but think a lot of the stuff in that game is remnants of those scrapped ideas.

He very openly felt bad for Griffon when Mundus killed him despite the fact that he’s loyal to the guy who killed his family and even gave him a respectful sendoff in DMC5. Generally he’s known for roasting his opponents but he still has a level of respect for them which I think is cool. In the first novel he even laments about the people who had to die on his missions, as he despises unnecessary bloodshed even if it involves bad people and popularized showing mercy among the other mercs in the business.

In the anime he often takes on jobs for free out of the kindness of his heart and is happy just being able to help people who need it even if he’s broke. Most of the money he DOES get goes to victims of demon attacks like Grue’s daughters and Enzo who lost his arm because he feels immense guilt for not being able to do what he feels like is enough for them.

He’s shown to be very protective of the younger generation through Patty and does everything he can to shield her from seeing him fight demons because he doesn’t want her to be traumatized like he was at a young age. He does the same thing with Nero, really, trying to keep him from fighting Vergil because he believes the result will either be his nephew getting hurt or him killing his own dad and having to live with that trauma like he did after he thought he killed Vergil. The way he looks at Nero and Kyrie fondly at the end of DMC4 before leaving Fortuna, he was willing to do whatever it took in order for Nero to keep that happy life with her. (Side note, Dante grew attached to Patty like, immediately. 15 minutes in he’s like “WHERES MY DAUGHTER?!” He’s so silly like that.)

It’s nice to see Nero is following in Dante’s footsteps too. In an interview it was stated Nero only really stepped into action in DMC4 because he wanted to protect Kyrie but in DMC5 we see a much more mature Nero who cares about civilians too, my favorite example being how he offered a total stranger food because he assumed he was just hungry. Dante in DMC3 was in a somewhat similar situation, though he was obviously a lot more selfish starting off than Nero ever was until he matured by the end of the game and took on the role of humanity’s protector like Sparda. It was his journey of “waking up to justice” like his dad.

Uhh… yap over. I typed this at 3 AM.

[starstruckmoony]

Hi, could I request a enemies to lovers with Enzo? Love your writing :))

tysm for the request anon!! i am so so sorry for taking ages to post this but i got veryyyyyy carried away and it may or may not be too long BUT i hope you enjoy it and that it's similar enough to what you imagined <3

king of my heart.

masterlist , requests

pairing - lorenzo berkshire x reader

summary - you and lorenzo are both sore, jealous losers with egos the size of jupiter, so you decide that you hate one another and that academic competing is the way to go. you keep that up for six full years, until something rather unfortunate happens and destroys your entire game plan.

trope/tags - enemies to lovers, rivals to lovers, angst, fluff

word count - 12.8k

warnings - language, smoking

if there was one thing every single person who ever crossed your path knew about you, even if you were barely acquainted, was that you had sort of been raised without the ability to accept that you cannot always come out on top. it was simply incomprehensible. you'd been told that you were a gifted kid from the moment you became aware of your pathetic little existence. it did wonders to your ego. your smarts and determination amused your tutors, petrified them even. and the better you got, the more motivation it sparked in you.

you intended to keep things going your way when your acceptance letter for hogwarts arrived in the mail. you weren't worried, not even a little bit, and neither were your parents. being the best of the best was a running thing in your family.

unsurprisingly, it couldn't have started off better. your professors loved you. other kids envied you. each essay and exam result you'd ever recieved was the textbook definition of perfect. your grades were nicer that aphrodite's reflection in the mirror, as hermione had told you once. it was a lot coming from her. she was also amongst the few of the smartest, most hardworking students in your year, but you never felt threatened by her, or anybody else for that matter. there was, weirdly, no jealousy. on her part, at least, considering you so very effortlessly secured your spot as top of the class and never let anybody take it. she'd always be happy for you like the good friend she was, proudly patting you on the back, yet you couldn't help but think if she ever felt a little angry behind that supportive smile of hers.

and funny enough, you were finally able to stop pretending to know what it was like one fine wednesday before the christmas holidays. you had come into class more confident than ever that morning, smugly waiting for your potions essay results. you were hoping for a hundred, but a ninety nine, maybe even a ninety eight, didn't seem so bad either. that would have been, if lorenzo berkshire hadn't got his essay back with a score better than yours. he, much like yourself, was just another sore loser who craved academic validation like a drug, silently fuming whenever somebody surpassed him. he had dealt it with for months, watching you ace everything from charms to transfiguration, and always being second to you. the jealousy consumed his entire being, and he was kind of going mental, so you one could only imagine how ecstatic he was when he saw your face twist with dread after snape praised him in front of everybody. he wouldn't have hidden that mocking grin on his face if you held a knife to his throat and it made you want to choke him to death, for lack of better term.

"l/n." he sang as he successfully caught you in the corridor right after the said lesson. twat. you ignored him and increased the speed of your steps, biting the inside of your cheek, so hard that it began to sting. you didn't instantaneously realise how desperate he was to get your attention, but it became a lot clearer when he stood in front of you, entirely blocking your path. your little attempts to confuse him and avoid the situation were useless. it was kind of pathetic.

"what do you want?" simply shoving him to the ground and acting like it never happened would have done the job, but god forbid you swallowed your pride for once. 

"c'mon, don't be so pissy, i'm just trying to make conversation." you saw right through him, anyone would. him? wanting to make conversation with you? after death-glaring you every lesson for three months straight? and then bursting your bubble and being so smug about it? you almost scoffed, "you're in my way."

"oh, my apologies." he moved to the side and bowed dramatically, waiting for you to leave. you rolled your eyes, and took a single step forward, just to have him come right back to his original spot.

"move." you tried to shove him and even attempted to run for it, but he was faster than you. your nostrils flared, "you know that today was just dumb luck, right?" you crossed your arms, thinking you'd get under his skin, but there was no sign of change on his face. on the contrary, he was more accomplished than ever. you were fuming.

"i wouldn't call it that." he tilted his head to the side, observing your face.

"alright then," you copied his movements, "plagiarism?" his smile fell a little. it made you a lot happier than it should have. you expected victory from that senseless squabble, but lorenzo wasn't the type of person who backed down so easily. that was something you should have known.

"you're projecting." he shrugged, blankly staring at you.

"projecting?" you almost stuttered.

"projecting. pick up a dictionary, yeah?" he gave your head a tiny pat, and left you standing in the hallway, dumbfounded, angry, and a little humiliated.

that moment alone set off a feud that changed the trajectory of your miserable lives forever. each time he did better than you, whether it was on an essay, an exam, flying lessons even, your urge to wipe his existence of the face of the earth got stronger. the feelings were mutual on his part. you went back and forth like that for a while, trying not to be that obvious about it, but one could only hide their true feelings for so long.

it started off with hushed insults, which got strategically thrown around every time you'd cross each other's path. having other people notice your diminishing confidence was proper nightmare fuel, so you kept it as subtle as possible. then it turned into shoving and pushing, which was enough to set off some alarm bells in the heads of your friends. neville had told you that it wasn't worth it, and draco, of all fucking people, had told lorenzo to tone it down, but you refused to listen. you offered a few empty promises, saying that you'll sort it out sooner or later (sort out as in make sure you never let lorenzo get a score higher than yours again, but that was not going to happen).

your sooner or later turned into a few godawfully long years. saying you hated him may have seemed like an overstatement, but there was no other way to describe that burning feeling of i want to fucking kill you that entirely took over you whenever you laid your eyes on him. it kept getting worse and worse, without you realising just how bad it had become. your little competitions had completely lost their significance. it didn't matter who was first anymore. it could be ron or pansy, and you wouldn't bat an eye. all you cared about was surpassing each other, even if you were among the average with your scores.

that being said, it became an open secret of sort. as stupid as you made your classmates out to be, they were not, and they quickly put the missing puzzle pieces together. one of them spread a rumour that you tried to kill lorenzo, or vice versa, you couldn't really remember. and frankly, you couldn't blame them. you had given them more than enough reasons to think that you hated his guts. the most ridiculous instance had to have been the one during potions class when snape assigned you to work together. you could have placed a bet of two million galleons that he did it on purpose. it was like he wanted you to fail.

lorenzo had managed to insult you before he even took a seat at your table, calling you too stupid to work with in front of the entire class. you told him that he was a daft idiot when he unwillingly slumped down into the empty seat next to you, which had only set him off more. you accepted your fates almost immediately, knowing that whatever task snape assigned to you wouldn't be done, even if it cost you your grades.

just like you predicted, you did everything but what you were supposed to; spilled every sort of liquid there was all over each other's things, broke a few glasses, set two notebooks on fire, and burnt a hole in the table. you had stuck him to his chair, too, and lost a few house points as a result.

***

a sane person would have reached a certain point and stopped, pushing all of those stupid grudges aside. forgive and forget, that whole talk. hopelessly, your friends thought you would have got over it as you were growing older and that you would have chosen basic human decency over some hurt feelings and an insignificant competition no one gave a shit about. but no. you were not sane. you were ruthless, and you continued trying to make each other miserable like your lives depended on it. you hated lorenzo berkshire, and he hated you just as much. you were too naive and caught up in it all to realise that it'll come right back for you later.

it was like some sick obsession. from obvious sabotaging during classes whenever you got assigned to work together (followed by unsatisfactory results you blamed the other for) to throwing insults at each other in the corridors where everybody was set to hear you, you had checked every single one off.

you called him a useless arsehole on a daily basis. he called you an insufferable bitch every time he saw you. you had cursed out each other during lessons and done even worse things when nobody was looking. and if anyone did see you and try to get involved and call you names, it was bad news for them. you were each other's enemies to insult and demean and degrade and ruthlessly bully, nobody else's. only you were allowed to call him a cockroach, and only he was allowed to call you a snake. your relationship with lorenzo was nothing you could explain to somebody with a fully functioning brain, even if you tried.

one night in your fifth year, you had successfully snuck out in search of some sort encyclopaedia to help you out with your DADA assignment. none of the books which you were allowed to use did good enough of a job at making it easier, so you were hoping that the restricted section would have something better to offer - which it did. you couldn't recall the last time your trip to the library was that short.

to make things even better, you successfully avoided bumping into an annoying brunette who made your life oh so entertaining (unbearable). lorenzo wasn't anywhere to be seen. you smiled to yourself, feeling a sense of freedom at last. you were praying that the prick got bored of looming around the corridors all alone like a loser, waiting to terrorise you.

you began humming a tune you heard dean play on his old gramophone (one that got confiscated), and skipped around the corner to make your way to the grand staircase. mistake number one. you tripped over something, someone, but managed to stay on your feet as opposed to falling face-first onto the ground. you didn't even have to look back to know who it was.

"my, my, out rebelling again?" lorenzo leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, smirking in satisfaction when he noticed how you were grimacing. he stepped on one of the books you dropped, refusing to move when you tried to snatch it back.

"do you mind?" you spat, aggressively pulling it from under his foot. you straightened out your clothes and dusted yourself off before tucking the literature you had picked up under your arm.

"stealing?" he raised an eyebrow.

"borrowing." you corrected.

"without permission?" he tilted his head to the side in faux amusement, "i wonder what would happen if i alerted a professor about this."

"and you'd tell them what?" you scoffed, barely able to hold your laughter in, "that you saw me stealing while you were sneaking out to go for a casual wank?" what a fucking idiot. you rolled your eyes, turning away from him with the intention to walk away from the scene. you were not in the mood for his bullshit.

"yeah, yeah, run away like you always do." he uttered in disappointment, yawning. he knew exactly which buttons to push, and it wasn't surprising. you were familiar with each other's habits and emotions more than you'd like to admit. you stopped in your tracks. sighing, you set the books down onto the stone tiles, and spun around to face him once again.

"aguamenti." you cast the spell with an evil smile, and in a matter of seconds, a wave of water was shot straight in lorenzo's direction, leaving him soaking wet. he gasped out in shock; his clothes clung to his body. the water was unbearably cold, it was so fucking freezing, he could barely move. the commotion was noisy enough to alert filch and his beloved ms. norris, but those were the last of your worries. your felt rather fulfilled, that was what mattered.

"you asked for it." you shrugged, but did not turn your back on him just yet. that would have been the easiest way for him to attack, so you mistakenly waited, thinking he would strike for you. he dug his wand out of his pocket, and muttered a spell, "vermiculus."

you whipped your head in the direction in which he pointed his hand, realising what happened a second too late. he had turned your precious books into worms. you yelped in surprise and stepped away from the disgusting mess on the ground, your back bumping into his chest. you turned to face him and gave him a harsh push, backing him up into the wall and shoving your wand into his face.

"uncast it." you demanded. he laughed. how stupid did you have to be to even think that he'd listen to you, "no."

"berkshire." your words came out louder than expected. you wouldn't have been shocked if you saw a teacher coming around the corner to reprimand the both of you for looming around so late, but you didn't care.

"undo the damn spell." you repeated, just about ready to strangle him if you deemed it necessary.

"no." he pushed you away and took a hold of his own wand. he tried to disarm you, but failed miserabley. two could play at that game, then "stupif-"

"what's going on here?" filch's scratchy voice stopped you mid-spell. your head snapped towards him, and you instinctively stuck your wand inside of your clothes as if he hadn't already seen it. being too preoccupied by trying to come up with an explanation that you hadn't previously used to get yourself out of trouble, you had forgotten about the slimy creatures crawling on the floor. a worm wiggled towards you, too close for comfort, and you scrambled to get away, clumsily bumping into lorenzo once again. he gave you a somewhat gentle shove to get you away, and you kicked him in response, right in the shin.

"she tried to drown me." he explained with an irritated groan, rubbing the sore spot on his leg.

"he destroyed school property." you added dramatically, wishing to kick him one more time. filch's eyes trailed over to the filth beside your feet, and he made a face of disgust before instructing you both to follow him to dumbledore's office.

the whole ordeal ended with the books being safely returned to their spot on the shelves of the restricted section, a half-assed DADA assignment and the two of you getting put on bathroom cleaning duty for seven days straight (no magic allowed). it was probably the biggest mistake of dumbledore's life.

the bathrooms were not cleaned properly once. in fact, they'd only end up in conditions which were about ten times worse than their default ones. lorenzo was too busy spilling bucketfuls of water, dirty or clean, all over you to care whether he scrubbed the junk off every single sink there was (payback for the stunt you pulled on him in the corridor), and you were too busy hitting him with funny smelling toilet brushes (made sure you got all that rubbish into his hair, too) to polish the tiles and mirrors to perfection like you were told to do. it was disgusting and sickeningly entertaining at once. dumbledore considered punishing you with some other method, but gave up seeing what the boys' toilets looked like after night four. not even detention was able to come between the two of you. limits and common sense weren't either.

***

in your sixth year, the unimaginable happened. there wasn't a single soul who saw it coming, not even yourselves. maybe it was magic. maybe it was a sign from the universe. maybe some higher power did everybody justice. whatever it was, it sent your professors into a spiral. their shitty damage control was finally paying off, as cruel as it turned out to be.

classes had become increasingly more difficult than they were in previous years. to follow, to manage, to keep track of, and everything in between. mcgonagall had pulled you outside twice, asking you what was wrong after she had noticed that you were falling behind. many of your peers were, actually, but nobody would have ever expected it from you. the results you'd achieve weren't always as perfect as they were in your first year, though you had never struggled to get past eighty points until then. it was singlehandedly the worst thing that could have ever happened to you. priorities were hard to sort out, so there was a noticeable decline in your performance. you were absolutely miserable, and it did not get better, only worse. so bad that you had forgotten that you had a certain slytherin to compete with.

it was the day before halloween night, lessons had come to an end. your friends scattered around different places – some to the great hall, some to hogsmeade, some headed straight to bed, all intending to clear their minds after a stressful week of difficult assignments and dreadfully challenging essays. nearly every student left the transfiguration classroom with a relieved smile, happy that even their low scores ensured them a pass. hermione got a ridiculous amount of praise for her outstanding results, and even an encouraging pat on the back from mcgonagall.

so, a wonderful end of october for everybody but yourself. your expectations weren't high when you handed your toughest essay in. you thought you'd get sixty points at best. not hoping for much, yet still trying to ignore the worst possible outcome - one that was bound to get you someday like proper karma. but that wouldn't actually happen, would it? there was no way. it was impossible. you felt like a bloody idiot.

you failed. you fucking failed. for the first time in your life. and it was much more humiliating than you had imagined. you were so upset with yourself that you hadn't even bothered to pester lorenzo about his results, and strangely, he hadn't approached you either. no glances, no death glares, no hushed insults. not during the lesson, not after.

you left the transfiguration classroom trying your hardest not to cry, ignoring all of your friends and wishing to get out of the castle as soon as possible. you needed to be alone. you weren't looking for anybody's comfort, validation or their empty words of sympathy that would lose their meaning the moment you fixed the mess you were in. so you went to the black lake; where very little people preferred spending time, where you could be at peace with your own thoughts, and where you could catch a much needed break, even if it was only for a little while.

you slumped down onto the grass with a thump, bringing your knees up to your chest and letting your tears fall. you failed. for merlin's sake, you failed. it was like everything you had ever known was suddenly gone. you weren't even worried about what your parents or professors would say. truthfully, you couldn't give less of a damn. you were so disappointed that you had blocked out everything and everyone else, or whatever stupid opinion and solutions they might have had to offer. everyone, except for lorenzo and that dumb game you two were, for an even dumber reason, still playing. he must have been oh so happy to hear about your failure. he'd never let you live it down, you knew it.

"l/n?" speak of the fucking devil. he always had fantastic timing.

"get out of my sight before i throw you into the lake." you spat, wiping your tear-stained face with your sleeve, not looking at him.

"shiver me timbers." he sang, not feeling threatened at all.

"berkshire." you warned, turning your head towards him and meeting his gaze. you shouldn't have moved. worry flashed through his face for a brief moment when he caught a glimpse your puffy eyes, and he pressed his lips together, guilty. could he actually bring himself to pester you while you were in such a terrible condition? no, he couldn't, regardless of the resentment he felt towards you.

he cleared his throat and took a step closer. you sighed, staring back at the landscape spread out in front of you without uttering a word, "what happened?" he questioned hesitantly.

"nothing that concerns you." you attempted to shut him down. he raised both of his eyebrows, a little amused, "someone upset my favourite rival," he scoffed, "of course it concerns me."

you rolled your eyes, "just leave, will you?" but did you really want him to? your voice shook as you spoke. you despised the part of you that was wishing for him to stay. you wanted to be alone more than anything, but you knew you'd break down again if he listened to your plea and left you there. you'd take his overused insults over failure any day.

"not until you tell me what happened." your jaw clenched, and you muttered a quiet curse, knowing that he most likely wouldn't let up. as if that one would miss out on an opportunity to annoy you. he settled down in the grass, right next to you, waiting.

you sat in silence for what felt like forever. he didn't push you to speak again, and you were pretty reluctant to say a single thing. not even calling him names seemed tempting. you sighed for the nth time, starting to tear up again, "i got my essay back with thirty points." you sniffled, silently preparing yourself to get made fun of.

"fuck," you heard him mumble, and he scratched his head shortly before speaking, "if it makes you feel better, i got twenty eight." getting on your nerves was always in his best interest. although, having to see you so seriously upset was not on his bucket list, not anymore. you stared at him in shock, frowning, "what?"

he nodded. the look on his face was so sullen that you were starting to believe him, "are you not taking the piss?"

he snorted, "i wish i was," he avoided your gaze, "i, uh," he pursed his lips in thought, letting out a breath of frustration, "i was convinced i'd do well even if i started last minute... without research, but uh, guess i was wrong." you hummed, doubtful.

"why are you telling me all this?" you shook your head and trailed your eyes back to the lake, finding it rather difficult to believe that he was being so... nice. it was your first normal conversation and you had no clue what to make of it.

"who else am i supposed to tell it to?" he responded, annoyed. you bit the inside of your cheek, just as irritated, picking up a pebble. you examined it shortly before throwing it into the water.

lorenzo watched you curiously, having very little to say, which was terribly weird in itself. lorenzo berkshire not having a single unnecessary, offending comment to offer? your failures had truly taken a toll on you, completely.

"i can't believe we both fell off." you said in wonder, throwing another rock below the surface.

"right," he agreed, without an urge to backtalk, "fucking hell, i've no reason to hate you now." he blurted out, horrified by his own words.

"fantastic, now i suck at that too." you let out a dry, emotionless chuckle. you weren't crying anymore, just silently fuming at lorenzo for being the one to stop it without even properly trying.

"you suck at everything." he corrected.

"i take after you." you retorted nonchalantly.

"dumbass." he bit back a smile.

"dickhead." you were struggling just as hard. holding in your laughter was never more challenging, but you were determined not to break character.

you found yourselves in an eerily comfortable silence. by the looks of it, things would be alright. knowing that he messed up too somehow put you at ease. not even because you were happy to him fail, but more at the thought that it just happened to be at the same time as you. you found a certain dose of comfort in it. it was written in the stars, as it seemed.

"get lost now." you broke the bubble you found yourselves in. it was about time you got back on track. there was no way you'd get all friendly and gushy with him, even after whatever that was.

"alright, alright." he stood up, groaning as he did so. he dusted off the pieces of grass that got stuck to his trousers.

he stared back at the lake shortly, waiting to see if you'd say anything else he could offer a witty response to. he was a bit sad when you didn't, and he shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers, sighing, "well, i shall see you-"

"never." you finished that for him.

"perfect." he added, turning on his heel and heading towards the castle. you allowed yourself to glimpse at him one last time, simply not being able to let him have the last word.

"you've got some on your arse." you were talking about the remainder of the grass that was stuck to his clothing. he stopped to clean it up, and then flipped you off wordlessly.

you thought that was the last of your civilised interactions. there was no reason for you to bore your mind with it. you happened to fall behind at the same time and it gave you a decent bonding moment, but it was nothing more than that. just two people who claimed they didn't like one another very much talking properly for once. nothing, it was nothing. simple as that. so you weren't able to pinpoint why you kept looking back on it nearly every day, or why you felt so guilty for calling him stupid and useless, or why making fun of him for getting a lower score than you wasn't rewarding anymore, or why competing so fiercly was no longer satisfactory. and why he too, happened to feel just the same. maybe you had grown out of it.

you blamed it on the stress. you did have lots of different things occupying your mind anyway - such as your major arithmancy exam that you decided to pull an all nighter for.

for the first time in a while, you stayed inside the library past closing hours. madam pince wasn't too happy about it, but she liked you enough to let you crash there and warned filch not to throw you outside if he happened to notice you during his nightly patrol. the woman had some interesting tactics up her sleeve, none of which you ever questioned.

you swore, probably for the tenth time in the past two minutes, crumpling up yet another piece of parchment. you had to start over a ridiculous amount of times. the pile of rubbish on the floor was growing larger by the second. ripped up paper, bottles of ink, broken feathers, it was definitely a sight. there was no way you were getting through all of that on your own. and oh how that angered you. you rarely ever needed assistance with anything, but this was just a little bit above your level. that enraged you even more. a helping hand was starting to sound promising.

"you're still here?" you didn't even flinch, knowing all too well who that voice belonged to. did god or the devil just answer your prayers? you never got past your little habits of leaving the dormitories to do whatever there was to be done around the castle almost every night, so there he went, running into you again. lorenzo peeked out from behind the bookshelves in front of you, smiling like a little kid who was just about to do something egregiously silly. you couldn't not grin back, despite being angry.

"you're still here?" you repeated his question, crossing your arms.

"i asked first." he moved towards your desk, pulling out an empty chair and settling there next to you without even asking if you wanted him there. weird, that one.

"alright, and?" you teased further. he bumped your shoulder with his own. he wanted something. punching him suddenly sounded like a fine option. he looked over your arm to examine your notes.

"arithmancy?" he glared at you, kind of bemused. it was another subject he was that awfully good at, unlike you. you weren't terrible, but not exactly the best either. an infuriating thing.

"my favourite." you responded sarcastically, throwing your quill across the table. he hummed, sitting back in his chair, but not taking his eyes off of you. he definitely wanted something.

"what?" you could sense it already. he was gonna mock you again.

"do you need help with that, perhaps?" or maybe not. you looked at him, skeptical.

"from you?" you raised an eyebrow.

"well, i mean, yeah." he shifted in his spot, as if he was anxious. you did a double take, and then burst out laughing, wiping away a non-existent tear. he was just too damn funny. him helping you? that was a good one. you carried on with that little performance of yours for the next minute until it hit you that he wasn't joking.

"are you serious?" you asked, just to confirm. there was absolutely no chance.

"look, i can leave-" he stood up, "no," you grabbed a fistful of his sweater and pulled him back down. he yelped, startled, "what's your deal?" you weren't letting him get away with that so easily.

"what do you mean?" he was geniuenly confused.

"don't play fucking dumb," you jabbed a finger into his chest, "why are you being so kind to me all of a sudden?"

he laughed uncomfortably, scratching the nape of his neck, "well, i thought, you know, since it seems like we're no longer on about hating each other, that-"

"oh." you interrupted him, chuckling in disbelief. you shook your head, rubbing your temples in frustration and then letting your arms fall to your sides, "look, berkshire, just because i'm not trying to kill you anymore doesn't mean i want to be friends."

"what!? for fuck's sake, you're impossible." he stood up once more, this time darting out of your reach.

"here we go again." you rolled your eyes. you just couldn't interact without quarreling, could you? he paced around inbetween the bookshelves before returning to your table, "you're not exactly giving me any reasons to be nice right now."

"i never asked of you to be nice." you argued.

"you could appreciate me trying." he retorted. you had no idea what on earth he was trying to achieve. you could only think of so many explanations, "why? so that you could gain my trust and then stab me in the back when it's convenient for you?"

"that's what this is about?" he muttered something under his breath, "i thought we were past that rubbish."

you wanted to laugh hysterically, "okay, we may have pushed the resentment aside, but you can't exactly expect me to trust you."

he understood that, unbeknownst to you, "i never said that you needed to trust me," he sighed, leaning over the table, "listen, i offered to help you because i can see you're struggling. i'm not here to sabotage you if that's what you're worried about. i'd be wasting my time." he straightened his posture, standing there with his arms crossed.

"because i'm already terrible enough and don't need anyone's interference to properly fuck up, right?" you were prepared to tell him to bugger off if he refused to give you the answer you were looking for, furious at him and yourself.

he paused, hesitant. you were so fucking stubborn, and he loved you for it, "correct." alright then.

you picked up your quill, "sit down."

you got your exam back with a shocking score of eighty-nine, surpassing even hermione. not lorenzo, but you were second, and that was enough to have your ego flying right back through the roof.

i told you you could do it, he said, but not without me, he had to point out. you had to give him that. how could you not? he casually decided to save your life without you even asking for it. if it weren't for him, you most likely would have majorly fucked up on that exam. that's not saying that it wasn't difficult. he had no patience and you had even less, but you had somehow survived that night in the library without biting each other's heads off or getting into any additional fights. he even followed you back to your dorm, an offer he didn't allow you to refuse and one that you were too exhausted to complain about.

in the few weeks that followed, you decided that it was for the best that you block out whatever happened between you that night. christmas holidays were approaching, and you couldn't let that ruin your mood. lorenzo told you that mattheo said that it was a shift in the matrix. you had no idea what that meant, it sounded horrifyingly muggle, but you agreed for the sake of agreeing. a shift in the matrix, bloody nonsense. a coincidence, you called it. an accident, even. an accident that helped you out tremendously and made you reconsider lorenzo on nights when you couldn't sleep, but still an accident. 

who were you kidding? something had definitely changed. other students started noticing it too.

you had gradually become somewhat friendly rivals who'd rub their own success into each other's faces for the laughs till they got threatened with a jinx or tickled to death. some occasional name calling too, just not as intense. but you weren't friends. nothing near it. you had done a pretty good job at convincing yourself you never would be. treating him a little better than usual was the farthest you'd go trying to mend all those years of jealousy and grudges. that was what you started living by, pushing away that strange tingling sensation that would coarse through you every time his hands happened to brush against yours when you walked side by side.

it is exactly why you almost spilled acidic liquid all over the table and burnt a hole in it again when he sat next to you during potions one fine afternoon.

snape was visibly mortified by the sight, partially because of that incident from two years prior (when you almost set the entire classroom on fire), and partially because he couldn't believe that mcgonagall was actually onto something when she purposefully failed you both. it would go down in history as one of the most ridiculous moments of his career. he sent a warning glare your way before beginning the lesson.

"excuse you?" you whispered once professor snape finally turned his back to the class, raising both of your eyebrows in question. was lorenzo asking to get violated?

"harry took my seat." he pointed towards the table where he usually sat. and shockingly enough, there was harry, sitting next to draco, for whatever sick and twisted reason. you gaped at them, then at lorenzo. not looking into that deeper was maybe for the better.

okay then. you didn't respond, trying to get into taking some notes like you were previously instructed. that would have been easy (it was for the first quarter of the lesson), if lorenzo's presence wasn't keeping you so alert, stopping you from focusing on what you deemed more important, "merlin, can you breathe a little quieter?" you snapped.

he purposely inhaled louder than he normally would, grinning proudly when your eyes rolled back into your brain. you kicked him under the table. he yelped, but oddly, covered it up with a cough. you glared at him, doubtful. that was not the reaction you were expecting to get.

you resumed trying to copy the crucial bits from the chapter snape assigned you all to analyse, very poorly. it was kind of impossible. you weren't used to having lorenzo sit so close to you for such an extended amount of time. ignoring him was unimaginably hard. your notes had never looked worse. words missing, constant mistakes, sensless scribbles. you reached for a new pot of ink after seeing that you had run out, and then felt his finger poke at your side.

you flinched, catching a glimpse of your professor who's head was still buried in the pile of assignments he needed to grade. he hadn't noticed you. good. but then lorenzo did it again, right where you were most ticklish, because he knew. you swatted his hand away, not missing the way he smiled to himself. little shit.

you reached to poke him too, and when you tried to pull away, he took a hold of your wrist, not letting go. he had a lot of good defense tactics up his sleeve. you didn't try to yank your arm out of his grip instantly, which was the perfect opportunity for him to tickle at your side with his free hand. this time, you held back a startled giggle, kicking him under the table one more time. he snorted, resuming his little game.

you were both sweating trying not to make too much noise, but neither of you was letting up, not letting the other have the satisfaction of winning. he eventually moved his chair closer to yours with the excuse to tickle you more effectively. your legs were touching under the table, but only because it was easier for you to kick him that way. it went on for at least fifteen minutes, until snape finally lifted his head, his eyes on the class. you separated, thinking you were being slick about it, when it was the least fitting explanation for what had been going on. the two of you had your lips pressed together, trying not to laugh. your professor could only sigh in response. at least you didn't set anything ablaze.

hermione tucked her arm under yours in the hallway when your lesson ended, grinning mischevously, "would you like to tell me what happened just now?" 

you scoffed, rolling your eyes playfully, "huh? i don't know what you're on about." you played dumb, despite knowing exactly what she was getting at. and you had no idea why. it's not like you had anything to hide.

"i think you do." she pushed. there was not a chance for you to get out of that conversation.

"really? i truly don't." you still tried, though. acting foolish was your only escape route.

"y/n." she dragged out, laughing and pulling you along with her. potions were your final lesson of the day, so you were already able to picture her desperate attempts to pull some information out of you all the way until bedtime.

"what? we were just fighting." you finally gave in. you knew you would have to eventually, but you loved your free time a little too much to let her annoying interrogation tactics drag on for so long.

"so you do know what i'm on about." she teased, scarily invested.

"what else could you possibly be on about?" you snapped, pushing away that uncomfortable feeling that settled in your chest. you had no reason not to tell her anything, so you couldn't pinpoint why you were feeling so guilty all of a sudden.

"the way you two sat closer together than every couple in our year?" she exclaimed, astonished by how shamelessly you were avoiding the subject.

you gasped, feeling a bit offended, or maybe called out. you couldn't tell which one it was, "that is not what happened." that was an overexaggaration if you ever heard one. was she out of her bloody mind? sometimes you thought that she enjoyed setting you off as much as lorenzo did.

you stepped through the portrait hole with the rest of your housemates, pushing through the crowd to get your dormitories faster. you wanted a nice shower, some peace and quiet for reading, and then decent sleep. it was that simple. you survived the walk through the common room without anyone asking additional invasive questions, immediately heading for the toilet once you arrived to your dorm.

you really needed that shower. it made you feel whole again. you stepped out after putting some comfortable clothes on, skipping over to your bed and then cursing out loud when you realised what was on it. amongst your own, there was lorenzo's fucking book. you had accidentally taken it when you scrambled to collect your things once class ended.

you could have just given it to him tomorrow, or not given it back at all. like he'd know who took it. it was incredibly tempting, but it also felt unnecessarily mean. what if he needed it to study that night? you brushed it off, not like it was your problem anyway. you sat down onto the mattress, picking up a novel from your nightstand and throwing the other books straight to the carpet so you could comfortably settle on your bed. you then put it back. you didn't feel like reading anymore. you laid there, thinking. peace was never an option in your world.

you groaned, snatching his book up from the floor and venturing back into the common room. you hadn't bothered to explain yourself to anybody, and you continued trotting over to the dungeons with a neutral expression on your face (neutral as in i am very much internally raging and if anybody tries to talk to me i might use the imperius curse on them). very useless it was, that relaxing shower of yours.

none of the slytherins lounging on the sofa questioned you, your appearance was pretty telling. good thing you ran into mattheo on the way there. getting in wouldn't have been so easy otherwise. you disappeared in the direction of their dormitories, stopping right in front of lorenzo's door. you swallowed harshly, begenning to get nervous. something was wrong with you.

you hesitated before knocking, tapping your foot against the ground furiously as you waited. "one second!" lorenzo yelled from the other side. it sounded like something had fallen over. the noise was followed by a few curse words and some shuffling before the door opened.

much to your dismay, you were met with a bare chested lorenzo, wearing nothing but a pair of trousers which loosely hung around his hips. his hair was wet, and his cheeks were a tinted with a light shade of pink. he had stepped out of the shower merely three minutes before you showed up. you inhaled sharply, swallowing the sound of surprise that almost escaped you and feeling your face heat up. his eyes went wide, given that he was taken aback much like yourself. you were the last person he was expecting to find on the other side of the door.

"hi." he greeted awkwardly, pulling his trousers up a bit as if it would help. you opened your mouth to speak, then closed it. opened it, before closing it again. you were pretty sure you resembled a damn fish. whatever was happening to you, you did not like it one bit.

"i- you- we- ithinkthisisyours." you finally spluttered, slamming the book into his chest. his hand touched yours momentarily when he grabbed it so that it wouldn't drop onto your feet. you felt lightheaded.

lorenzo was kind of freaking out, but only kind of, not even bothering to look at what you had given him at first. he was a little too busy staring at your blushing face, wondering what the hell was going on and why his heart was in his throat all of a sudden, "are you alright?" he queried, concerned.

"i am perfectly fine." that was a lie. 

"ah," he nodded, then eyed the piece of literature in his hands shortly as he slowly figured what it was, "oh! thank you."

you laughed in misery, "okay!" before shutting the door in your own face. you tripped and almost fell down the stairs as you ran, still flushed and your heart beating in a way that you found a little too unusual to push away.

you received a few judgemental glares from the students you had run past. the question marks were practically visible above their heads. you were too busy going hysterical to sneer at them for staring. you burst through the door of your dorm, breathless and blushing, "what the fuck?"

somewhere back inside the dungeons, a confused lorenzo turned to face his friends, still holding the book you had given to him. he had no idea what on earth happened, or why you reacted the way you did, or why he, deep down, found it more adorable than he'd like to admit. he groaned, falling face-first onto his bed. what the fuck, indeed. christmas holidays never looked more promising.

and oh how you regretted waiting for them with so much anticipation. you were supposed to get a break. from books, assignments, essays, whatever lorenzo was doing to you. hogwarts was supposed to be all yours. you weren't heading home that year. it was your parents' twentieth anniversary, so there was no point in going back, considering that you wouldn't see them (you didn't exactly have friends in your hometown either). they'd be having the time of their lives in the alps, and you'd be regretting every decision you had made up until that point.

not only because you were already bored out of your mind waiting for your friends to return, but because you saw lorenzo sitting at the slytherin table when you walked into the great hall on christmas eve. the image of him opening the door two weeks prior flashed through your mind. it happened often, in the most inconvenient situations too. you were hoping you didn't look too flushed.

"what are you doing here?" he questioned in amusement once you slid over to him, an equally puzzled expression on your face. "i could ask you the same thing." 

"all in good time." he cleared his throat, awkward. it was weird, but you didn't think much of it just yet. instead you sighed, taking a quick look around, and then speaking, "my parents ditched me for a skiing trip."

he snorted, motioning over to the very empty seat beside him. you sat down, no thoughts behind it. he was the only person among the ones who stayed for the holidays who you knew enough to hold a conversation, so it's not like you had better options. besides, that was your chance to see if there was more to his sudden change in behaviour. you were unnerved at the idea of even having the desire to do such a thing.

"what's your excuse?" you reached over his arm to grab a piece of toast, as well as some jam and chocolate spread.

"parents as well." you didn't miss the way he shifted uncomfortably. you put down your knife and propped your arms on the table, eyeing him expectantly. he held back shortly, and you couldn't blame him. who were you to think that he'd trust you with a possible family issue?

"i was told that i'm a disappointment and i'm not allowed home until i get my grades in tact." he stabbed the bacon in his plate aggressively, not looking at you. your jaw dropped in shock.

"in tact?" you uttered in disbelief. it was practically common knowledge that lorenzo exceeded you in a lot of subjects, a little more than half of them actually, so in your mind, this shouldn't have even been a problem. he was one of the top students. everybody knew that. your parents expected you to do well too, but they weren't that pushy or strict. yeah, receiving a howler for momentarily falling behind in october was aggravating, but nothing that you couldn't bear. lorenzo's, however, were crossing a line.

he hummed, picking at his food, "don't say anything." he sighed, it almost sounded like a plea. he couldn't just ask you for comfort, or ask of you to understand. faux sympathy was the last thing he needed.

"no, it's just–" you chewed on the inside of your cheek and picked up your knife again, spreading some jam over the piece of toast you grabbed previously, "you're not a disappointment, that's bullshit." you bit into the crunchy bread, chewing it slowly, a sour expression on your face. lorenzo went a bit red, stumbling over his words before getting out a clumsy i know, followed by a hesitant thanks anyway. 

you said nothing for the remaining few minutes of breakfast, just eating in silence while other students chatted in background. when you were exiting the great hall together to return to your respective dorms, you made eye contact with mcgonagall for a brief moment. she offered you a proud smile, yet with a hint of mischief behind it. you had never been more confused.

you spent the first half of christmas day alone in the gryffindor common room, reading some trashy muggle romance novel you found under hermione's bed a couple of nights before. it was one of the worst books you had ever picked up, but there was something so annoyingly addicting about it that you just couldn't give it up. it left you feeling empty and lonely, and with a strong desire to fling yourself straight into the depths of the black lake.

"christ, l/n, why do you look so sullen?" you shut your eyes, exhaling through your nose. just what you needed. you weren't even gonna question lorenzo was doing there. you had a clue.

"you don't wanna know." you tossed the book across the room, internally celebrating when he decided not to investigate further.

he made a face, "merry christmas?"

"likewise." you replied blandly. when you didn't tell him to get lost, he jumped onto the sofa, getting comfortable next to you. he didn't look all too happy either.

you sat there for good twenty minutes, staring at the fire like your entire worlds were crumbling in front of your eyes. it didn't occur to the either of you how awful it would feel to spend christmas all alone for the first time. no presents, no childhood foods, no hugs from mum in the morning. you even missed your spoiled cousins who would nag you to play with them each time you visited their house on boxing day.

it fucking sucked, but god, at least lorenzo was there. you'd push aside everything that happened between you in the previous years just for a twinge of affection. something came over you, and you lowered your head onto his shoulder, almost sighing in relief when he didn't shove you away. he scooted closer and rested his head on top of yours, not speaking.

from that moment onward, you saw each other every day. he'd show up at your dorm at random moments and you'd show up at his at even worse ones. you'd take walks in the snow together and come back with soaking wet clothes and red noses. you'd smoke in the courtyard before bed after making sure the coast was clear. you'd go to hogsmeade and fight over who was gonna pay for the butterbeer until you came up with a nonsensical compromise. you'd sneak out at night to steal books from the restricted section of the library and then read them under covers in the slytherin dorms. you'd sometimes fall asleep next to each other and then act like nothing happened in the morning.

***

you expected it all to fade to nothing once everybody else came back to hogwarts, but then it didn't. you still took walks in the snow and argued over butterbeer and snuck out after midnight (and had to clean several toilets after getting caught almost every time). he still helped you with arithmancy without asking for anything in return, and you'd sometimes kiss him on the cheek if you were in a good mood. you thrived off of the expressions that would paint his face whenever you did that.

but with the return of other students also came whispers and rumours, following you around like shadows. you ignored them tactfully, not wanting to give anybody the satisfaction of confirming that their silly theories may have been right all along. especially not hermione. she wouldn't let you forget that until you perished. she'd probably leave a note on your grave too, so you'd have that humiliating reminder haunting you in the afterlife.

"i thought you two hated each other." mattheo deadpanned one evening after lorenzo had brought you to the slytherin common room, straight into the damn snake pit. you were squashed together on the sofa, a large book splayed open across your laps, not getting read. it was one of the stolen ones. all of his friends were there, watching you like hawks.

"we do." you responded nonchalantly, taking the cigarette that lorenzo handed you. you took a long drag before putting it back between his lips.

"then why do you spend so much time together?" draco was very obviously judging you. he of all people should have understood. lorenzo rolled his eyes.

"you are in no place to talk, mister i hate potter but snog him in my off time." blaise took your side, bless his soul, and tossed theodore's shoe in his direction. shutting draco up was easier than you would have thought.

"no, but why?" mattheo repeated draco's question, propping his chin up into his palm and observing you curiously.

"maybe, they're– wait, what do you call that?" theodore leaned into pansy, hoping she had an answer.

"masochists?" she replied casually and lit a cigarette herself.

you choked on your spit. lorenzo almost burnt a hole in the sofa. but then pansy brushed her friend off, staring at the two of you with a mischievous grin, "not really, i think they're just bad liars."

and she was so bloody right. hate was the last thing that could be used to describe your relationship. third year you's biggest nightmare was a better label for it, given that you couldn't even be in the same room as him without trying to turn him into something nasty.

present day you was having a difficult time stopping herself from trying to kiss him whenever he was in her presence. it was that fucking frustrating. you couldn't believe yourself. lorenzo was facing the same struggles, and you couldn't tell if he was worsening or subduing the tension by randomly touching you. not like you minded, you were loving it all and stopped bothering with trying to hide it from him. your ego may have been large, but your crush on him ended up being bigger.

potions class was usually the height of it all, although it wasn't the only period during which you got to sit next to your favourite rival. mcgonagall was was thriving, unlike snape, who simply could not get used to the positive energy surrounding you, or the way you were together each time he crossed your paths. seeing pure fear flash through his eyes at the beginning of every class was hilarious.

when lorenzo arrived, you felt yourself starting to smile and tried to push it away with the most unsettling thoughts you could muster. it did nothing. he sat down with a dramatic groan, and immediately started ranting about some minor issue he had run into that morning. he did that a lot. this time it was about his favourite pair of socks going missing. you sucked in practically everything he said, chuckled at the random curses, noticed every breath of frustration he released as he was rummaging through his bag. you didn't realise you were staring. lorenzo did, but he didn't comment on it. he liked when you were looking at him.

you failed to regsiter that the lesson officially began, but not much was happening, really. snape was telling you about felix felicis and how insanely difficult it was to make, while you were required to write down the most useful bits of the information he was giving out. when he finally sat down after assigning you to read an overly long passage, lorenzo shifted closer to you. you eyed him, puzzled.

"would you kill me if i asked you for a favour?" you focused half of your attention on the writing, half on him.

"depends what the favour is." you shrugged. he put his arm over the text to prevent you from reading. he wanted you to look at him. he had always wanted you to look at him. from the very moment your fued set off, it was one of those little annoying things that made your hatred for him stronger. not anymore, but it was still infuriating in its own way. you gave him your full attention. he may have seen some sparks fly. you had each other wrapped around your little fingers without even realising it.

he shifted even closer to you so that you could hear him better, considering that he had to whisper, "can you come to hogsmeade with me today?" his breath fanned over your ear as he spoke. you didn't respond, so he continued, "none of my friends want to and it would be stupid if i went alone. you do kind of owe me." ah, yes. for that time he saved you from detention after slughorn caught you two smoking in the astronomy tower. you shot him with an annoyed look. you both knew it was exaggerated and what your answer would be, yet you still played around with it. that's the way things went. he smirked. bitch.

"fine." he was so smug about it, you could choke him and snog him at the same time. he got his arm away from your textbook, but didn't retrieve his chair. you were squeezed next to one another despite having more than enough space. your arms were touching, and so were your legs beneath the table. you moved not a muscle, and neither did he. you had grown to like having him sit so close to you. it made you feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside, helping you ignore the freezing winter air and the thick layer of snow covering the ground outside.

you met him in the courtyard after a quick change of clothing following the end of your classes for that week. when hermione asked you where you were heading and why you won't be staying in the common room with the rest of your friends, you told a half truth. that you were heading to hogsmeade, but then bolted out the door before she was able to ask with whom. she would guess either way.

"i forgot to ask you why we were doing this in the first place." you spoke as you left the school grounds, your hands shoved into your pockets and your face hidden inside of your fluffy scarf. you were a little cold. lorenzo was too, his nose was already going red. it was an adorable sight to see, but you weren't dumb enough to say that out loud.

"i wanna pick up a few poetry books." you bit your tongue, trying not to laugh at him.

"didn't know you could read." you snickered, it was stronger than you.

"you're so original," he mocked, "they're not for me. pansy's birthday's coming up so i figured i should get her something."

"oh." the disappointment in your tone was obvious.

all of your willingness to go with him left you in an instant. his presence was more irritating than ever. he furrowed his eyebrows as he watched you chew on the inside of your cheek, wondering if he said something wrong. again... or not. lorenzo was smarter than that.

"what, are you jealous?" he nudged you, teasing. yes. you hated yourself just a tiny bit for that, "no," you scoffed, "in your dreams, berkshire."

"we both know you can't fool me." he kept the act going. you gave him a shove, making him stumble. he almost tripped and fell in a pile of snow. it was very funny. he tried to get back at you, but you slipped out of his reach, laughing when he began chasing you.

spending time with him was like a getaway from all the things that drove you mad, even though he sometimes excelled at that. he became a friend you didn't know you needed and a friend you were pretty sure you were catching some major feelings for.

you entered the bookstore as your unplanned snowball fight came to an end, its warmth immediately engulfing you. after being in the cold for longer than intended, it was just what you desired. you stuck with lorenzo for the first few minutes, helping him out and leading him away from the large isle of erotic novels he accidentally found himself in. people were looking at you weird, especially your schoolmates, so you stepped away from the crowded bits of the shop and decided to check out different sections.

a certain book had caught your eye – its contents intrigued you, but the price did something opposite. you put it back on the shelf without second guessing yourself. you hadn't brought any money with you. you continued roaming through the different isles, browsing through various books while you waited for lorenzo to finish. you lost sight of him for a few minutes, too busy debating whether to make him come back with you here some other time so you could purchase whatever your heart desired.

for the time being, you'd have to leave the shop with empty hands. lorenzo was luckier and ended up getting five poetry books which all seemed to be written by the same author, except for one. he handed you the odd one out. you opened your mouth, ready to complain about your fingers being cold and not wanting to carry it. slowly, you realised what it was. your jaw dropped a little.

he had seen you looking at it ever so longingly when he went to check up on you after realising you had gone off on your own. he picked it up without hesitation. you were too stunned to thank him, too stunned to say anything, for the matter. but he wasn't exactly expecting a thank you. he was just happy that you liked it, grinning when you blushed and struggled to keep it cool.

"you shouldn't have done that." you chastised. those were the only words you could muster. he rolled his eyes, "deal with it."

you punched his shoulder. he didn't even flinch, "you're welcome."

when he threatened to ruin your life when you were twelve years old, this wasn't how you thought it would happen.

"i'm gonna kill you." you weren't exactly addressing him, more like talking to yourself.

"you're still on about that?" he huffed, pretending to be bored.

"lorenzo!" you groaned, he chuckled, "i love you too." your eyes almost popped out of their sockets. his weird confession seemed unserious, but your heart still fluttered. little did you know that he wasn't as oblivious as you imagined.

he was positively glowing at the reactions he was getting from you. his tiny year five crush on you had blossomed into something stronger after that moment at the lake a couple of months prior, and at last, the possibility of you feeling the same wasn't looking so small. if only you saw through his actions. all those offers of help, and his complete dismissal of your rivarly, and his clinginess, and how he stuck to you like glue whenever he got the opportunity.

your walk back to the castle surprisingly wasn't silent. you were chatting quietly, snickering amongst yourselves. your shoulders brushed occasionally, and so did your hands, and you thought your heart might burst. you shivered as the wind got stronger, pressing yourself a little closer to him.

"you okay?"

"huh?" you didn't register what he said at first, "oh, yes. just a little cold, that's all." you explained, not taking your eyes away from the pathway you were pacing across.

"let's hurry up, then." he took a hold of your hand, swiftly leading you back to the castle. you were so, royally fucked. you clutched onto the poetry book tightly, focused on regulating your breathing. your entire face was on fire, your breaths ragged, heart beating rapidly against your ribcage.

four days later, you caught a terrible cold after accidentally falling asleep by the window while you were reading. hermione said that she expected better from you. she was fantastic help. you were pretty sure you were dying. your limbs hurt. your head was throbbing. your sinuses were clogged. your throat felt like someone had stuck a knife into it. but did you skip any lessons because of it or at least visit madam pomfrey to see if she could do anything? no, you weren't that helpless. you'd deal with it on your own.

or try to, at least. you stumbled into class resembling a zombie, eager to sit down and hopefully not do much work for the day. you placed your arms on the desk, laying your head into them and shutting your eyes. you opened them only a few seconds later when lorenzo shifted next to you. you were met with his worried face, just a couple of centimeters away from yours. when you didn't budge, he touched your cheek with the back of his hand, frowning.

"you're burning up." he kept his voice down, but his tone was giving away the fact that your state concerned him greatly. you waved a dismissive hand, closing your eyes again. he poked you to make you look at him.

"have you went to madam pomfrey?" he questioned. you shook your head. if looks could kill, his probably would have.

"i'll go later." you reassured him poorly, just to get him to stop. the last thing you needed was getting all flustered and emotional because he was showing more interest in taking care of you than anybody else in your circle of friends.

"your later usually means never," he was right. you hated that. you grunted, hiding your reddening face. that was both from the fever and from him, "hey." he threw his arm around you when he didn't get a resonse. you leaned into his touch faster than you thought you would, just searching for any sort of warmth there was.

other students were giggling, but he couldn't care less, "y/n."

you lifted your head again, and then allowed it to fall against his shoulder. mcgonagall stepped through the classroom door shortly after that, her mouth dropping a little when she saw the position you were in. she was gonna scold you for displaying your affection so publicly, but lorenzo quickly explained the situation, and before you were able to protest, she shooed the both of you outside.

he immediately intertwined your fingers, walking at a slower pace than usual, not wanting to tire you more. as annoyed as that made you, you didn't pull your hand away, and instead kept your body close to his. he was muttering something, scolding you for being so dismissive and not getting this fixed right away. you were too exhausted to argue, but he was right anyway.

you inhaled sharply as your headache increased in intensity, latching onto his arm and stopping in your tracks. you shut you eyes, thinking it would help and ease it a bit. you felt him move to stand in front of you. his forehead fell against yours and his hands cupped your cheeks gently. you held onto him, taking a few deep breaths through your nose. his thumbs grazed over your skin ever so slightly, as if that his was his way of trying to soothe you.

eventually, your eyes fluttered open, but neither of you let the other go. lorenzo broke the silence between you, "you're so bloody stubborn."

"you're one to talk." you chuckled dryly, hugging him a bit tighter. he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, waiting for you to give him a sign that you were ready to walk again. when you nodded, he took your hand again, leading you to the hospital wing.

madam pomfrey had you going back to normal with a simple flick of her wand after a tiny scolding, and then she pinched lorenzo's cheek and called him a "good boy" for being so caring. the unexpected praise had his eyes going wide and he was blushing madly – you were never gonna let him forget that one.

she instructed you to come back if the cold returned, but she was addressing lorenzo more than she was you. a smart move on her part, the older woman knew you and your headstrong ways well enough. she ushered you out only after she made sure were in perfect shape to head back to class, though you couldn't do it without rubbing her comment into lorenzo face until he turned completely red again. he had to tickle you to get you to stop and you caused a bit of a commotion in the silent corridors, but that didn't matter. you returned to the transfiguration classroom with your pinkies intertwined, all eyes on you. you two really needed to talk.

and what are the odds of him being caring enough to check up on you later that day. he knew he wouldn't find you in your dorm, or the common room, or the library, or the astronomy tower. instead, he headed to the only other place on his mind, where the two of you often hung out on nights when neither of you could sleep.

you were sat on one of the stone walls in the courtyard, a cigarette in your hand, kind of forgotten. you hadn't noticed that it was burning out, or the occasional ash landing on your clothes. your thoughts were going places, recalling the many events that occured during the past few months, and what on earth you were going to do about your feelings. you could hide them from your friends for some time, but not from lorenzo. you blew out a frustrated breath, pinching the bridge of your nose. being straightforward with that idiot was always easy. you never had trouble with telling him exactly what you meant. 

the fact that you were anxious about it now was the most maddening thing in the world.

"what a depressing sight." you flinched, whipping your head in lorenzo's direction almost instantly. you couldn't tell if that was luck or misfortune. you snorted, rolling your eyes and offering him the remainder of your cigarette. he gladly took it, joining you in silence.

"why are you here?" you questioned.

"came to check up on you." he replied.

"i can take care of myself just fine." you patted his back. he seemed unphased. of course he was, he knew he'd win that argument.

you glimpsed up at the sky shortly. it was snowing just a little bit. you turned to lorenzo, a pleading expression on your face, "walk with me?"

he nodded, tossing the cigarette butt into the snow. you left the school grounds once again knowing that you wouldn't make it back before curfew, but that wasn't something the either of you dwelled on very much. there were more important things to get worried about.

it was obvious that you kept dodging the subject, settling for talking about things so insignificant that you would probably tell somebody to shut up if they brought them up in conversation on a normal day. being ballsy wasn't your thing anymore, as it seemed.

as cowardly as you felt, the sore winner in you wasn't letting you back down. a long internal debate and a silent minute of self-deprecation was what it took to make you finally speak your mind... to an extent, "have you ever felt incredibly guilty about being wrong about someone?"

lorenzo stared at you as if you were insane. it was a little too early on in the conversation for him to start connecting the dots. his street-smarts were sometimes lacking.

"you sure your cold didn't come back?" he pressed his hand against your forehead. you let out a startled laugh, observing his questioning face.

"what?" you spluttered, shoving your hands further into your pockets. the skeptical look in his eyes was making you nervous.

"you're admitting that you were wrong about something?" he sounded unconvinced, but there was a hint of jest in his voice.

you bit your tongue, clearing your throat awkwardly, "yes." you breathed out. he nodded, a way to tell you to go on. he was definitely interested. you were beginning to suspect that he already knew what you were gonna say.

"i mean," you grunted, cursing quietly, "you know when you spend years convinced that somebody is an awful person and claiming you hate their guts but then end up realising that they aren't nearly as terrible as you thought when you get to know them properly?" you explained frustratedly, resisting the temptation to kick the snow piling at your feet.

his mouth fell open in surprise for a moment, but he quickly shut it, running a hand through his hair, "uh, yeah, actually." he uttered nervously, scanning your face for any sign of humour. but you weren't playing around, and certainly not lying. he had been around you enough to be able to tell when you were being truthful.

you gave him a brief nod, looking everywhere but at him. you barely noticed that your hands were shaking. you contined walking on, not saying a single thing. if he were to tell you that he could hear your heart beating, you wouldn't even have the time to act surprised.

"i have to tell you something." he stopped in his tracks, grabbing your elbow in order to make your steps halt. you faced him, looking down at your feet, waiting for him to drop the bomb. he chewed on his lip anxiously, running a hand through his hair.

"i, um," he was struggling, not exactly knowing how to begin. how to formulate that sentence, even. he wished he could just show you. he reached to take your hand, and you let him, standing there motionless.

it was his turn to panic, "i- fuck." he met your gaze. you knew that look. you knew that bloody look he gave you when you were both thinking the same thing. two years prior it would have been something along the lines of i want to kill you. but it had turned into something that was a lot closer to i want to kiss you. you wanted to fucking cry. 

you nodded, breathing out and blinking your tears away. he almost sighed in relief, cupping your cheeks, and that's when your lips pressed against the last pair of lips you thought you'd ever be kissing.

you reached up to touch his face – that pretty face you once hated the sight of, but then couldn't get enough of. you pulled back only for a moment, only to connect again, neither letting the other go. your kisses were unhurried, soft, and loving, despite months upon months of pining, despite the years of pent up hate that was, at the end of day, sort of bound to blossom into love.

at the end of your seventh year, when you were leaving hogwarts hand in hand, mcgonagall stopped you on the way out. it was only then that she told you what had actually happened that gloomy day october, the one that practically sealed your fates for eternity. the overflow of different emotions was too strong for you to have time to act shocked, and you pulled the woman into a big hug, thanking her with teary eyes. for putting up with you for so many years, and for managing to do the unimaginable.

[hjparisian]

mistletoe or mistlefoe- theodore nott x reader

p: theodore nott x fem!slytherin!reader s: after seeing her best friend pine after a certain slytherin boy, pansy decided she would take matters into her own hands w: fluffy, slight drinking mention a/n: i know its not the holidays anymore but i wanted to write for theo soo oh well

Theodore and (Y/N) were returning from the kitchens, with food piled in their hands.

Pansy had thought it would be a great idea to have a small party for the start of the break, seeing as most of her friends were staying at Hogwarts during this time.

While she and Daphne were commanding the boys to get the common room more festive for the holidays, she sent her best friend and Theodore to ask the house elves for food for the get together.

Pansy knew of (Y/N)'s crush on the quiet Slytherin boy, so what better way to bring the two together than having them run an errand by themselves?

When Pansy told the two their job, (Y/N) saw the smug look on her face, knowing what she was trying to do. Little did she know, that was not the only trick up Pansy's sleeve.

The walk back to the common room was quiet, the sound of their footsteps filling the halls.

Until Theodore broke the silence.

"How come you stayed?"

"My father had matters to attend at the ministry and my mother is visiting family in France," (Y/N) replied. "What about you?"

"I didn't want to deal with my father right now."

(Y/N) just nodded. She knew how harsh Theodore's father is towards him, especially since his mother passed away.

"Well, at least you have us," (Y/N) said to him.

"Yeah. But unfortunately I have to deal with Mattheo's snoring," the boy said, smiling a bit.

"Really," (Y/N) asks, chuckling a bit.

Theodore nodded. "Threatened to use the silencing charm on him."

At that point, they made it to the entrance of the common room. Theodore uttered the password, letting the two of them enter.

Pansy was the first to notice the twos arrival, smirking a little.

"Welcome back you two, got what we need?"

"We did," (Y/N) assured her.

"Good, now we can get started."

The group began grabbing from the pile of food that (Y/N) and Theodore brought. Everyone was enjoying it. But of course, Pansy was trying to figure out how to set something in motion.

Mattheo tapped on the girl's shoulder, bringing her out of her thoughts before whispering in her ear. Pansy started grinning before taking the bottle that was in his hands.

"Alright everyone! I want to play a game with you guys!" Pansy called out to them. "Come sit in a circle!"

"Now what dumb game are we going to be playing this time?" Draco grumbled as he sat down next to Blaise.

The dark haired Slytherin rolled her eyes at the boy. "Well I was thinking we play spin the bottle."

"The muggle game?" Questioned Crabbe.

Mattheo nodded. "I say we should add a bit of a twist. You and the person you get have two options. Either kiss or fight to see who can pin the other to the ground first."

"Mistletoe or mistlefoe," said Enzo, laughing at his own joke.

"Yep."

(Y/N) rolled her eyes at Enzo's words. "Let's get started then before I have to hear Enzo crack another dumb joke."

"Hey!"

Mattheo started, landing on Theodore. The two looked at each other with a smirk on their faces.

"Oh this is gonna be fun," Mattheo said before jumping on Theodore.

The game went on, Theodore gave a kiss on the cheek to Blaise, Blaise fighting Goyle, Goyle attempting to kiss Pansy, Pansy kissing Draco, Draco fighting Crabbe, Crabbe fighting Enzo, Enzo kissing Daphne, Daphne kissing (Y/N).

Then it was (Y/N)'s turn.

She spun the bottle. Everyone watched it spin. (Y/N) was anxious, but she wasn't the only one. Pansy was too. The bottle began slowing down, appearing as though it were to stop on Crabbe. Mattheo noticed the panicked look on Pansy, discreetly pulling out his wand and making it stop on Theodore, who sat two people away from Crabbe.

"Well, its Theo, so you guys have to kiss."

(Y/N) looked at Mattheo quizzically. "Wait but don't I choose if I want kiss or fight him?"

"Nope. There's mistletoe." Mattheo said while using his wand to place mistletoe above Theodore's head.

(Y/N) felt her face burning. Was she going to kiss Theodore? Or would she avoid that by fighting him? Either way, she would probably embarrass herself. She looked towards Pansy to see what she would tell her.

The dark haired girl was looking right at her, mouthing her to just do it.

(Y/N) got up towards Theodore, the boy staring at her with his blue eyes. She crouched down in front of him, eyes flicking between his eyes and lips. A million things were going through her head. But there was a voice telling her what she should do.

She kissed him.

She kissed her crush.

And he was kissing her back?

She felt a hand on her cheek, pulling her in, deepening the kiss. The cheers from the gang were drowned out by her focus on Theodore.

The two had departed, taking time looking at each other's eyes.

"I like you Theo."

The boy smiled. "I like you too (Y/N)."

"Fucking finally!"

The two turned to Mattheo, Pansy standing next to him. Both having smug looks on their faces.

"Been waiting for you to admit it since forever," Pansy laughs.

"Same with Theo," Mattheo chuckles.

A cough fills the room.

"Well I'm happy for Theo and (Y/N)," Draco began. "But we still got a party going on."

"Firewhiskey for everyone!" Enzo shouted while passing the drink to everyone.

(Y/N) stood by Theodore, who's arm was wrapped around her.

She lifted her drink towards him. "Cheers Theo."

Theodore did the same. "Cheers. To the holidays and to us."

[sunkissedscribbles]

The Beach

pairing: lorenzo berkshire x poet!mentally ill!reader

genre: angst, a wee bit of fluff

tw: mental health issues, swearing

word count: 2008

summary: enzo comforts you when having a mentally rough period

a/n: my soul needed this one. i don't really want to label reader's mental state because in my mind bpd was the starting point but I think it would fit under the terms of depression as well, that's why I haven't specified it in the pairing (and because i'm not a specialist). also, it contains one of my poems I have not yet posted on my main.

playlist: The Beach - The Neighbourhood

masterlist

dividers by @chachachannah

It hasn’t even been a month since the new school year started, only two weeks. Two weeks got you utterly exhausted, and even that was an understatement. It felt like you had forgotten to talk, taking a little too long to answer, to process things – to think. Your head felt heavy with emptiness, your entire body ached as it didn’t seem to be able to release stress, holding onto it deep in your bones, low in your back.

It wasn’t just fatigue, it was emotional and mental exhaustion that made you want to lie in bed all day, yet your sensible side made you get up every day and go to your classes.

Those damn lessons.

You went to all of them, tried to siphon in as much of each subject as you could but your mind was elsewhere all the time.

At how sick you were.

At how tired you were.

And in the afternoons you did nothing other than lie in bed, trying to convince your mind that it was okay, there was nothing wrong with you, and that you needed to study.

Just five more minutes.

Oops, It’s been ten minutes ago.

Anyway.

You’re gonna start studying at next-hour-o’clock.

You didn’t.

At dinner you were only pushing your relatively small portion of food back and forth on your plate, your mind foggy with very negative thoughts as the chatter of your friends next to you blurred into an indistinctive mess of different voices over your head.

You were silent,

and lethargic,

all the time.

It was after dinners when you lay in bed, hoping this was a phase or something you’d eventually get over. But in the back of your mind, you knew you wouldn’t.

And you didn’t really want to, either – you felt so down, so numb that you felt like you couldn’t move in the direction of getting better.

Not properly.

Not permanently.

Lying there, alone, you couldn’t think of anything better than causing your own pain, physically – at least you’d feel something, wouldn’t you? Even if it’d hurt – maybe you’d deserve it. Maybe you’d deserve it because you had spent your entire summer not doing anything valuable, pushed down these feelings of despair, hurt, pain, depression. You didn’t study saying you couldn’t pay attention and you were tired – of course you were when you kept staying up endlessly, only getting mere hours of sleep and not eating enough.

Maybe you did deserve to feel this way.

You missed the affection, just a hug at least, from your friends. But you have been so withdrawn from them and they were all beating around the bush, not knowing how to corner the question of your visibly deteriorating mental health.

It was Enzo though, who paid the most attention to you; he knew you like the palm of his hand, even if you hadn’t realised it. He cared about you, probably more than he should’ve. He’d known all your mood swings, and even when you had better days, he knew you were going to be just as down, if not even worse in just a matter of days.

He couldn’t bear seeing you like this, he missed the carefree, loving Y/N you were. He missed his Y/N. Every word you spoke felt like a dagger to his heart as your tone only made it obvious just how tired and ill you were. Every time he saw you scribbling into your notebook he knew contained your poetry his heart ached, even when it was just two words.

He knew you were starting to give it all up.

Life.

You didn’t cry, and that was obvious – you’ve never been one to cry much or cry immediately when something relatively bad happened, or when it was something that you took too personally, nor when one of the bandages you thought were securely protecting your wounds were ripped off, not suddenly but slowly to hurt even more as it stuck to the surface of your heart. No, you took it, held yourself together, trying to maintain the facade you built so well and perfected over the years of suffering from whatever game your mind was playing with you.

Because the more people knowing you’re hurt the more able to hurt you.

Because the more pain you show the less people will think of you.

Because the more you trust the more leaving you and hurting you in the end, the more betraying you.

You were more on the bottling-up side, but the bottle always spilt in the end when it couldn’t hold more.

More suffering, more floating, more silence, more pain.

So, two weeks after your seventh and last year at Hogwarts had started, here you were, writing a new poem in the Astronomy Tower.

I find nirvana; I’ll exist in eternal peace, you wrote the last two lines, the cool autumn breeze in your hair.

“Y/N?” Enzo’s voice echoed through your ears, and closing your notebook, you looked up at him. This was the day the bottle broke – you’ve been crying before writing your poem.

Startled by your red eyes, he looked at you with concern. “Y/N, were you crying?” he immediately crouched down in front of you, and as he took your face in his palms gently, you could feel the dam break again. You didn’t like this. No, you couldn’t be crying in front of him.

“Just, uh, tired,” you answered in a low tone, trying to convince him – or yourself, rather.

He looks down at the notebook and shakes his head, “Liar. Let me see.”

You hesitated – how could you possibly show him what you were feeling? It took you weeks to be able to put it into words, and it’s not too happy. “Please,” he asked softly, one hand caressing your cheek, the other reaching down for the notebook in your lap. And you let him, knowing he’d get what he wanted anyway.

You saw his facial muscles twitch and tense up as he read its title, his hand falling off your face: ‘goodbye.’

His eyebrows knotted in a frown at first, glancing up at your once lively eyes, now missing the bright, pure shine they used to have.

You watched as his expression became sad and even more concerned as he breezed through your lines written.

these lines; I plan them to be the last ones I write and speak, so that I can be free in a world where pain doesn’t exist, where no clouds disfigure the sky. I go tonight; I don’t regret and don’t look back, I’m not afraid to leave anymore, I give up the fight, I end the war. i lie down tonight and drift to sleep, I unite with nature forever, and release the built-up hurt and pain. I find nirvana; I’ll exist in eternal peace.

“Y/N, you–” he shook his head as he lifted his head again, meeting your eyes. But you, you couldn’t look into his, you felt like you’d break immediately. You were afraid of what emotion would look back at you. Hurt? Sadness? Disappointment? Or would he look at you differently?

“I’m sorry,” you muttered, shaking your head, keeping it hanging low.

He cupped your face again to make you meet his gaze, gently yet forcefully tilting your head upwards. His eyes, as always had that caring look in them, mixing with concern, and a sense of fear that he’d lose you washed over him.

He’d lose you, before it was nature’s job to cross your path together, before he could even confess to you.

“...Why haven’t you told me?” he asked in a low, broken voice. Fuck, he couldn’t lose you.

You couldn’t answer him at first – how could you tell him that you’d been feeling like shit for weeks again? That the longer you’re alive the less you’re living? The more days you survive the more of your want to live, and the more of your shine you lose. you took a long breath and with a tremble tugging at your lips, you shook your head while a stray fat tear rolled down your cheek.

“Y/N, darling…” he pulled you in for a hug and as his arms enveloped you tightly, your salty tears started raining down your cheeks again, lading on the fabric of his hoodie.

“I’m sick…” you sob into his chest, not able to hold anything back anymore, not in front of him as your fists clutch the fabric on his back. “And I’m tired too.”

You weren’t fireproof, that was for a fact, and he knew it too, probably better than anyone. You didn’t want to burn in your own flames but you felt it, felt it burning you and spread over onto him, burning him too. You were holding on to him for dear life, hoping your own miserable state of mind wouldn’t murder you.

“...I hope I don’t burden you,” you trembled against his body and he held you tighter.

“You could never,” he assured you, shaking his head. “Never, honey. You’re not a burden.”

You didn’t need to say much, he’d known almost everything already. He just held you tight against him, as if you could just slip away and disappear if he wouldn’t – and the truth is, you could’ve, especially in this state. And you kept gripping his hoodie as you slowly calmed down in his arms, while his heartbeat gave yours a soothing rhythm to follow. 

You were slowly coming to your senses that felt numb all this time – his cologne was a nice mix of sandalwood and citrus which filled your nostrils and made you feel at home, even more at ease, his touch warm and soothing under your sweater, rubbing your skin through the thin layer of your shirt, his voice sending your mind into a state of contentment as he kept whispering sweet nothings into your ear, and yet again, you couldn’t help but wonder what his lips would taste like. You’d been friends for a long time and you didn’t want to ruin the relationship you two have built up over the years.

Then the three little words left his lips involuntarily; “I love you.”

You felt him stiffen against you as the realisation that he indeed said that out loud hit him, and coming down from your surprise, and trying to control your rapid heartbeat, you lift your head from his chest and meet his eyes. How could he love an emotional wreck like you?

“Y-you what?” you asked as if you hadn’t heard it right.

He gulped, trying to swallow his fear of rejection before repeating his words, “I said I loved you,” he led his hands onto your waist under your sweater as you pulled back slightly to look into his eyes, but kept drawing you in lightly.

Without any further hesitation, you crashed your lips against his, afraid this was only a dream, hence wanting to enjoy every second of it and take it to the fullest.

His lips were so soft and moved so in sync with yours, and you wanted nothing more than to stay like that forever, wrapped in his embrace, with your lips connected, your tongues dancing around, making your mouths a ballroom, available for only them.

You pulled back just to come up for air and to clarify one thing. “I love you too.”

Your words sent a jolt of electricity and happiness down his spine, and he leaned his forehead against yours before reassuringly whispering to you, “I’m not leaving. We’re in this together and you can count on me, anytime, anywhere. Just- don’t shut me out. Please… I need you here with me.”

You nodded against his skin and let out a heavy sigh. You knew it would be a long way, a really deep dive. But until it was him swimming with you it didn’t matter that you were out in the open. It wasn’t a sudden light, a newfound wave of relief taking you out to the shore, but the beach seemed closer than ever. 

tag list: @inksoakedparchment @mqstermindswift @reys-letters @girllblogging777 @myysunshine @yelanare

[sinofwriting]

Figlia Mia - Charles Leclerc (Part Two)

Words: 1,927 Summary: What do the 2024, 2025, and 2026 season look like with Enzo Ferrari’s granddaughter having taken over the Ferrari F1 team? Read part one here Note(s)/Warning(s): This is a very different fic to what I normally write. The story is mainly told with news headlines and only has 3 blurbs in it. But if you want me to expand on anything in the news headlines or want to see a part three told also with news headlines for the 2027, 2028, and 2029 season let me know! And thank you to @eleetalks for the Italian translation! Also, I shouldn’t have to say this but: How I write the drivers in these fics is not based on my feelings for them, it is just what I need them to be.

Masterlist | Support Me!

2024

January 2025

“I feel like I’m in trouble.” Daniel jokes, as he follows her through the hallways. “I think you just like being trouble.” He grins at her, winking. “Gotta keep you on your toes, huh.” She shakes her head, but grins. “Was the drive okay?” “Better than most. I’ve got a room at the hotel for the next few days as I house hunt.” “No flat?” He scoffs, “for three years? And with the amount of development we’re doing? Fuck that. I’ll go crazy.” She hums, sending a smile to Anita as they pass by her who tuts when seeing Daniel.

“What was that about?” “Anita likes her peace. It’s why she’s worked for us for so long.” “I can be peaceful!” He protests and then immediately makes a face. “Okay, I can try.” She snorts, shaking her head as they reach the dining room.

“Daniel!” Her grandfather greets, a wide smile on his face as he pats Charles hand before the younger moves to her side, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Signor Ferrari!” Daniel cheers, moving to the older man’s side and bending to press a kiss to his cheek. “You’re looking amazing. It’s the enchante merch, isn’t it?” He jokes, having sent some to both Ferrari’s right before the 2024 season ended. Enzo huffs out a laugh and she watches Daniel’s face as her grandfather sticks out his leg, sliding his slipper off and Daniel’s jaw drops as he sees the enchante sock on his foot. “Healing properties.” “Holy fuck.” Daniel breathes and they all can’t help but laugh. “I told you, nonno that you’d break him.” Enzo grins at Charles, putting his slipper back on. “I’ve got to keep you kids on your toes.” She rolls her eyes, squeezing Charles upper arm, before moving to properly greet her grandfather. Pressing a kiss to his weathered skin and holding his hand in hers for a few seconds.

“Now tell me as we eat how the car is.” He demands as soon as everyone is sitting and food has been served.

—

“He really overdid it.” Charles murmurs as they both work to get Daniel on the bed. She sighs. “He was talking about house hunting here before we joined. The split hit him a bit harder than I thought.” He frowns, eyes sad as he looks at the man that for a good few years was pretty much his second godfather. “Has he said why?” “Racing. This year was supposed to be his last, but 2024.” She shakes her head, a sad but fond smile on her face. “It really hit him how much he wasn’t ready to leave yet and F1 wasn’t ready for him to leave either. She didn’t want him to go this long, didn’t want to deal with the weird long distance and traveling.” She shrugs. “It sucks, but is fair.” “Is it rude to be grateful that we won’t have to deal with that?” He asks, wrapping an arm around her waist and tucking her body against his as they look at Daniel, who's starting to really drift off. “No, il mio destino. Only natural.” My destiny He hums, pressing a kiss to her neck before sighing and unwinding their bodies. “Let me take off his jeans so he’ll be more comfortable.” “I’ll get him a glass of water and make sure to put another pillow under his head, when you lay like that your neck always aches in the morning.” The last part is a murmur and he flushes at her remembering that. Such a small, simple thing.

When Daniel wakes up the next morning he groans at the dry throat he has and the gross feeling of not changing before falling asleep for the night. Turning to the left, his eyes close for a quick second as he murmurs a prayer of thanks before reaching for the glass of water on the nightstand and draining it.

It takes a few minutes for the water to settle in him and for him to realize that he doesn’t have jeans on. He blinks, but shrugs. It wouldn’t be the first time he stripped while asleep, but those were one of his tighter pairs of jeans.

“Daniel.” She greets when he stumbles out of the bathroom and finds himself in a small kitchen. “Morning Stella, Charles.” He rubs at his eyes, clearing the last of sleep away as he sits in the small breakfast nook.

Charles and her share an amused look when the smell of coffee makes Daniel perk up, his face instantly brightening.

“That smells amazing.” She passes a cup to him and Charles presses the small basket slash tray of sugar, creamer, and things closer to the Australian. “Thank you.” He murmurs to both of them before doctoring his cup, murmuring another thank you when a small bowl of fruit is placed in front of him, Charles doing the same.

“I had your luggage delivered to the house.” She states when Daniel is fully awake and halfway through his fruit bowl. His brows press together, hand stilling. “What?” Charles brings his cup to his mouth to hide his smile. “Your luggage, it was brought to the house. Nonno is the only person that lives here full time, Anita, Matteo, and Luca live here when we are not and sometimes when we are. And Charles and I have this whole wing to ourselves, this kitchen, a small living space, a few smaller rooms that were converted into offices, and four bedrooms. We’d like to have you live here as well. Or in the guest house.” Daniel blinks at her. He had forgotten how much she steamrolled and bulldozed through things, it made his lips twitch up into a smile before he turned his attention to Charles. “And you're alright with this?” “You’re family.” Charles states and Daniel can feel tears spring to his eyes at the easy way he says it. “We may have lost sight of that for a few years and only regained it recently, but you are family, Daniel.” He swallows thickly, “fuck.” He breathes, a few tears running down his face before he nods. “Alright, kids. I’ll move in.” And then in a move that shocks Charles, Daniel places a hand on the back of his neck and draws him close before he kisses his forehead and the gesture makes Charles well up. “Jules will kill me for letting you drown for so long.” Charles shakes his head and neither man notices that she has left the room, leaving them to a grief that they share. “No. He’ll be proud we became family again.”

May 2025

She smiles as she watches Ferrari get another 1-2 podium, the third of the season already and it was Charles winning his home race once again.

“You are glowing.” “Maman.” She says, turning slightly to look at Pascale. “I promise that we aren’t hiding anything. We just got married. It’s a newlywed glow.” Her mother in law huffs. “And when will I get my grandchildren?” She shakes her head. “You and my grandfather both. Eventually, I promise. Not right now though. Neither of us are ready for that.”

November 2025

“Daniel, do another lap.” “What?” The word comes out a bit loud and harsh but he listens to Stella, ignoring the checkered flag and starting another lap. “What’s going on, Stella?” It’s quiet for another moment but as he approaches the straight, she speaks. “Daniel, congratulations. You are the 2025 world champion!” “What?” He slows as he takes the turn, her words not registering even though it had been all anyone had been talking about since the weekend started. “You won, Daniel! You’re a world champion!” “Holy fuck.” He curses and as he gets on the straight he realizes why she had him continue and he stops the car in the middle of it, grandstands perfectly able to see it as he quickly unbuckles his harness and gets out to stand on the car, raising a fist in the air as he screams.

2026

@cixrosie @badbatch-simp24 @darleneslane @fanboyluvr @teti-menchon0604 @eugene-emt-roe @crystals-faith @gemofthenight @peachiicherries @lpab @copper-boom @topguncultleader @iloveyou3000morgan @boiohboii @benstormy @bibliosaurous @skepvids

[wordsarelife]

DAY 21: A NONSENSE CHRISTMAS

pairing: theo nott x fem!reader

summary: you and theo are only friends.. right?

warnings: making out, suggestive

note: better late than never ;)

“this is for you” theo said, taking out a small package and holding it in your direction.

your friends had just finished unpacking their presents and the room had quieted down.

you looked at theo in confusion. “what do you mean?” you frowned. “i already got my present”

this year all of you had decided to just draw a name and exchange a present each. it was easier this way, so you hadn’t been expecting a present from theo.

theo smiled friendly and you almost lost your balance at the way he was looking at you. he handed you the neatly wrapped present. "go on" he said "open it"

your friends watched you both expectingly. you gently unwrapped the small box, opening it to reveal a delicate silver chain, which held a small star pendant

"my star-sign" you smiled up at him "it's so beautiful theo. how do you always know just the right thing to get me?"

"i just know you well" he smiled "i'm glad you like it"

"can you help me put it on?" you asked, turning around. you held up your hair. his hands were cold on your neck.

"thank you" you said sincerely and hugged him, feeling a new warmth spreading between you and your best friend.

"it's nothing" he shrugged

"don't talk it down like that" you shook your head "i love it!" it was like his eyes had captured you, you just couldn't look away from them.

"would you look at that" mattheo said, making both you and theo snap out of it. he was pointing at the mistletoe right above theo and you.

a mistletoe that definitely hadn't been there before. you send a suspicious look in mattheo's direction who just held up his hands, feigning innocence

"oh" theo scratched his neck "we don't have to"

"and let everyone think that we're scared?"

theo shrugged.

"definelty not" you answered your own question. you raised your eyebrows at theo, asking for his okay.

"alright" he nodded and you noticed the nervousness clearly displayed on his face

"we can do this" you assured him "it'll be just like hugging"

"yeah but with our mouths" theo whispered back

"nothing different, huh?" you smiled uncomfortably

"we're waiting" draco called from the couch. you turned your head to look at your friends, who were all wearing similiar expressions, like they didn't believe you would go through with it

"okay" you breathed, before your hand reached for theo's neck and you dragged him down to meet your mouth. of course you had kissed boys before, but this was different. this was theo. he was more important than a single kiss or any other boy.

there was no time for you to worry, because just when your thoughts started running, theo reciprocrated the kiss, emptying your head entirely.

he tilted his head to the side, coming impossibly closer to you.

you let your hands wander through his hair while his hands were everywhere on your body. this defineitly wasn't platonic anymore, if it had ever been. and it was far from a hug, because he had never touched your body in such a lustful way. and definitely never your ass.

theo's tongue had just entered your mouth, making your head tilt back, when there was a cough. you broke the kiss, looking at your friends.

you had almost felt victory bubble in your chest, when you noticed their uncomfortable expressions, but then you had to think back to the kiss and your cheeks quickly reddened

"woah" enzo had clasped a hand over his mouth

"yeah" pansy nodded "my knees almost gave in just looking at the both of you. i don't know how you didn't collapse, y/n"

"be honest" blaise crossed his arms "have you guys done this before?"

before either theo or you could answer, draco rolled his eyes "of course they have! no first kiss looks like that" he pointed an accusing finger in your direction

"we only thought it would be funny because the first kiss is always uncomfortable" mattheo explained

"this was far from uncomfortable" pansy exclaimed "no, actually, yes it was, but for us, not them"

you looked at theo and knew that he wanted to change the topic as bad as you did. "that's what you get for trying to embarass us"

you took theo's hand in yours. "come on"

the rest of the group hollored at your depature to the boys sleeping quarters. you were almost glad that the seriousness had been gone as soon as it had come.

"do you want me as bad as i want you?" you asked after you had closed the door behind theo

he nodded eagerly and connected your mouths. "it's so easy with you" you mumbled between kisses

"why is it so easy?" theo mumbled. you couldn't even keep your hands to yourselves.

"maybe because i wanted this for a long time"

"me too" he nodded

the rest of the night was spend in each others arms. you stayed in bed until the early morning, legs tangled and clothes lazily laying on the floor.

of course, you friends teased the both of you at breakfast, drilling for details, but neither theo or you said anything about your night together, just exchanging looks and holding hands under the table. you didn't plan on ever letting go.

taglist: @twistedhistory @bakingintheshire @mqstermindswift @taygrls @athenalikethegoddess @helpimhopelesslyinlove @prettyb1tchsblog @anonnreader777 @ahead-fullofdreams

[sunlightmurdock]

The Odyssey | 0.8 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

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Moodboard | Recommended Listening

Synopsis: Bradley keeps a close eye on the other students, nightly dinners become a regular occurrence. Malcolm feels further away than ever. A phone call in the middle of the night causes a swift change in plans.

Warnings: enemies to lovers, power imbalance (professor / student relationship), age gap (22 / 33), will be smut, virgin reader, swearing, infidelity. 18+ minors dni

…

Bradley wakes up with the sun. All of those West Coast mornings and thin, green floral curtains in his grandmother’s house. The sun spilling through them and alerting him to the Chordettes playing downstairs on grainy vinyl. That meant his mother was cleaning. Lemon-scented disinfectant, her sitting on her knees polishing the hardwood with a rag. The effortless warmth of her voice drifting through the walls.

He exhales. Sunlight seeps through his eyelids but there’s no Chordettes album today. No lemon scent. Just a dusty room and one of his students sleeping six feet away. His eyelids flutter, blinking through the early morning light. A slow turn of his neck allows him to check the clock on the nightstand and doesn’t affront the stiffness that these cheap mattresses give him either.

It’s early. About four hours before Luke would naturally rise, anyway. Bradley hits the alarm and pushes himself upright with a soft sigh. He doesn’t have to be quiet when he’s getting out of bed, that kid could sleep through a hurricane.

They have a lot in common. Lots of similarities in the way they were raised. Bradley likes him beyond just being his professor. In different circumstances, they would be friends. But, Bradley has always kept that line in the sand clear. Until now. Until you had kissed him.

Showered and dressed, Bradley’s up before most of Verona. The soles of his shoes are quiet against the cobble. Italian leather from almost a decade ago. A gift from an old friend that have held up well. The only dress shoes he’s got.

It’s bright out. Bright enough that Bradley’s squinting through his Ray-Ban caravans already, but it’s not too hot just yet. There’s a wind that makes the loose white of his button-up billow against his tanned skin, fighting to work free from being neatly tucked into his belt.

Enzo’s out on the steps by the time Bradley gets there, which means he is late. Teaching hasn’t ever been Bradley’s passion, but it makes way for him to study and — in theory — he gets his summers off. It allows him to write.

“Good morning.” Enzo greets him with a smile. Bradley’s not much for the business side of things — he would have better luck at counting the shades of blue in the sky than he would at figuring out schmoozing. Enzo knows this, and Bradley knows that he knows this. “How’s the book coming?”

“I’m not sure,” Bradley answers with a broad shrug. He tucks the gold frames of his sunglasses into the part of his shirt. “I’m not sure I’ll have it finished by the end of summer.”

Olive-skinned and about fifteen years Bradley’s senior, Enzo looks the part of a sleazy salesman even if he’s just a curator when his lips twist up into a smile. “Something’s got you a little distracted, hm?”

The straight ahead stare, the deep, slow breaths and the unwavering tight line that his lips are pressed into; Bradley’s reaction is easily readable — and Enzo’s close enough to get hit if he keeps it up. He knows that. Towing the line is his specialty.

“Just joking. Here, let’s go in.”

Three soft-sounding steps inside and Bradley’s back where he was this morning. Ten years old and laying on his back in the twin bed in the bedroom at the front of his grandmother’s house, smelling artificial lemon.

He turns his head just a little, his eyes lingering on the mop being pushed around the tile floor, as Enzo leads him further inside.

Being published is what professors dream of. Having someone decide that their little ramblings are interesting enough to publish. Bradley’s study focuses on two things that are inherently interesting to begin with — sex, and power.

His research may be tedious every now and again but the content is always rich. His morning spins by and before he knows it, it’s time to meet you again. You’re ready for him when he gets there, tugging open the door before he has knocked.

But, you don’t look excited to see him.

Cheeks flushed, your body language suggests to him that you would have a decent future as an offensive lineman. His gaze flickers up, over your head and into your seemingly innocent hotel room. Powerless as he scans the room, you just hope he can’t figure out what it is that has you so rattled.

You had aimed to finish before he had arrived but time had gotten away from you.

“So what are we doing today?” You try.

“What are you writing?” His eyes are already on it. The open stack of lined papers, torn out of the notebook already, sitting on the vanity by the wall. Your perfume is next to it and you’ve got the stationary set that your mother got you laid out neatly next to it.

“Nothing.”

He looks down. First, at your face. Wide eyes and baited breath. Then, at your hands suddenly resting against his chest like they’ll hold him in place. His lips twitch.

“Nothing?” He repeats to you. Enjoyment seeps through his words, amusement tugs at his lips and he lifts his right foot to take one step forwards. “Mind if I take a look?”

Instantly, your fingers are curling into his shirt and you’re throwing your weight at him to keep him where he is. Bradley huffs out a sound of amusement, passing you in one swift stride as you claw at his button up to slow him down.

“Don’t, Bradley, it’s stupid — I was just messing around. I don’t want you to read it.”

His fingers brush the top page as you plead with him, tugging at his sleeve, trying to change his mind. He lifts it nonetheless and shoots you a grin, making a show of clearing his throat.

“Dear Juliet,” He pronounces, turning his attention back to the page from you.

“Bradley, please don’t.” It’s not fun anymore. You’re quiet and resigned to him doing whatever he pleases. Embarrassment teems through you.

It’s a familiar kind of crushing feeling. It’s never just feeling small, it’s never that simple. It’s being made small. Every inch that you shrink, you’re squished down further until you’re nothing.

You can see it in his face, the exact moment that he reads his initials on the paper. It had seemed too personal to use his name. Back when this had seemed like a good idea at all.

He doesn’t read on. The paper sits still in his hand as he turns his head towards you. You stare back at him, preparing yourself. Tongue poised, ready to spit whatever venom he deserves after what he says next. Eyes wide, and sad.

“I’m sorry.”

He sets the paper back down as he had found it. It’s not his to discard, it wasn’t his to read. Bradley steps forwards and wraps his hands gently around both of your biceps.

“That wasn’t cool,” He tells you quietly. Bradley knows a couple of different languages, and he’s confident that he’s speaking English now, even if you’re staring at him like he isn’t. “I didn’t realize what it was. I was just trying to mess with you. I barely read any of it.”

Silent, you blink a few times. He’s still there with his big, heavy hands anchoring around your biceps. He’s waiting for you to say something back.

Slowly, your brows draw together. Your eyes flicker over every inch of his face, looking for some fault that will give up this little act.

Suddenly, your mind is made up. This is an act. He’s not sorry, men rarely are. You straighten your back and lift your chin, if you were a cat your claws would be out and ready. “You’re such an asshole.”

The clock beside your bed, the hands don’t move, and yet it feels like you can hear something ticking. Maybe your heartbeat. He’s staring back at you, not moving, but he’s going to have to soon — it’s his turn.

“I know, honey,” Bradley’s hands open and he releases your arms, only to open his and wrap you in them. Your face presses into his chest as he rubs a hand along the small of your back. “I didn’t mean to.”

You’ve received plenty of life lessons on what it means to be a woman. Your grandmother, your mother, your aunts and cousins, teachers and friends. Not one of them prepared you for this. In your scope, apologies come in the form of jewelry or luxury vacations.

No one had ever prepared you for a man to look into your eyes and tell you that he is truly sorry.

“I just wanted to put it on paper, get it out of my head,” You mumble into his shirt, inhaling the notes of wood and warm spice in his cologne. Your hand rests against his stomach now, unclenched. Your body is soft against his. You relax out of all of that tension and let him hold you. “Make some sense of it.”

His palm hugs the base of your skull, cradling you against his shoulder. His cheek rests against the top of your head. He gives you a slow nod.

“You should finish it.” Bradley tells you.

“Yeah. Maybe later.” You hum. It’s nice, to be held by him. He strokes a hand softly over your hair.

Within this city, within the walls of the first space that you have had to yourself in three weeks, in this brown hotel room — you have let yourself be his.

Tomorrow, you’ll move on to Venice. The decision is yours, to leave him and all of this insanity right here — forever between these four walls — or to let go.

Bradley’s thumb trails the nape of your neck. He can feel you deep in thought. Just once, he would like to know what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours. “Could be our activity for today. Write it in Latin, think of it as a translation activity. I won’t check it.”

Lifting your head, you stare up at him, lips pursed in distaste. “If you don’t check it then what’s the point?”

“Confidence.” Bradley tells you. You feel his open palms trail your back until they hit your belt. Then, they skim around to rest safely on your waist. “The more you practice—“

“Yeah, yeah…” Both hands push against his chest as you wriggle out of his arms and turn. “Okay, I’m in.”

“Let’s sit outside. It’s a nice day.”

The eighth of June. The day you sat in a public garden opposite a fountain, laying on your front in the grass while Bradley sat in front of you, propped up against a tree. It turns out that when Bradley says he knows a place, it’s usually worth listening.

“What’s this place called?”

“Giusti Garden.” He tells you, working on something of his own in his lap.

“And what is it?” You ask him, trailing the end of your pencil through the dictionary. He looks up at you, his own pencil stilling for a second.

“A palace, originally.” Blinking through the lenses of his sunglasses, Bradley glances down at the page in front of him and back to your lips, pursed in concentration. “Pretty popular. Mozart, Gorthe, Ruskin— they’ve all visited this place.”

“Huh.” You hum.

This time when his gaze flickers up, you have moved. Your lips are parted, you tap the rubber at the end of your pencil against your bottom lip.

Mid-sentence and stuck, you turn your head towards him and he’s already looking at you. He read what was on that paper the first time. He reads hundreds of essays a year, he has mastered the art of clearing a page quickly.

Admittedly, he hadn’t gotten through the whole page, but he’d noticed that you had stopped halfway through a word at the bottom.

He read all about it. How confused you are. The new feelings and the difficult thoughts. Malcolm and how much he loves you. How guilty you are. How furious with yourself you are.

Selfishly, Bradley wonders if you’re writing the same thing now. All of those biting looks and harsh words — Bradley feels like he’s just starting to understand, and he likes the person behind it all.

He’s grown up enough to know that you’ve got enough people messing with your head back home. Whatever that letter helps you realize, Bradley has already decided that he isn’t going to say a word about it.

It’s still bright out by the time that your letter is signed and sealed, tucked into your bag. You straighten up, brushing off your front as Bradley collects his things behind you.

“Here.”

Lifting your head, you almost miss it. He watches your eyes land on the folded piece of paper extended towards you. Your lips quirk softly as you reach out and take it from him.

Breeze catches your hair, you comb it off of your forehead with one hand as you open up the paper with the other. Three different pencil sketches sit on the paper.

The largest is in the centre. It’s of your face and your shoulders, elbows propped up against the grass and your lips pouted slightly as you study the book before you. The lashes, the slight misshape of your polo collar, the tip of your nose. He’s got it down to a science.

The other two are just sketches. One of your face, turned to the side like it is in the drawing of you laying down. The last is of you looking at him, smiling. You don’t even remember what he had said. Neither does he. But he remembers that look.

“What’s this?”

Bradley just slips the pencil into the pocket of his jeans and starts walking, nudging his elbow into yours as he passes by. “You asked me to draw you, didn’t you?”

In truth, he assumes that it’s going to be a parting gift. Call him sentimental, but Bradley always leaves something to remember him by.

When he closes his eyes, he doesn’t remember his father’s face. He has seen it in pictures before, but never in memories. No, he remembers hugging his father’s legs, and sitting on his knee. He remembers the smell of tobacco.

The replacement dog tags. The gold chain. The shoes in the box in his mother’s wardrobe. The suit that Bradley never grew into — one day it was too big and the very next, he had already outgrown it. Those are what he has to piece together parts of his father.

When you’re old and married, maybe you’ll find the drawing and piece together the parts of Bradley that made you smile like that.

You trail behind him, white tennis shoes in the trimmed green grass. A white polo shirt tucked into lemon yellow shorts, your sunglasses sweeping your hair back off of your forehead.

In another life, he’d reach back and you would wrap your palm around his index finger. He would smile at you and you would be all kinds of giddy about this date.

But this isn’t that — it doesn’t work like that this time around. Someone could see you. Bradley knows now how you’re feeling. He knows that your fiancé is on your mind. He chose once, took Natasha’s choice in her own future from her. He won’t do the same to you.

“The dinner thing,” You call out from behind him, watching your shoes travel from grass to stone pavers as you pass by an intricately carved fountain. He turns his head and peers at you over the top of his sunglasses, looking over his shoulder. “Is that really every night?”

Before you’re even done with your question Bradley’s looking ahead once again, and you’re left looking at the plain white of his cotton tee stretched pliantly over the swell of his shoulders. “Until you all start treating each other with a little respect, I guess so.”

“All of us? — Come on, Bradley, don’t act like you don’t know who the problem is.” An incredulous scoff, barely paying attention to your own words as your eyes wander around the flowered garden. “She’s just a slut, and—“

He stops and turns. Your gaze snaps from double early tulips and their puffed yellow petals to Bradley standing before you — the look in his eyes is scolding before his mouth has even moved.

“Do you listen to a single thing that I say? — Seriously?” He asks you, brows drawn together and his lips pressed into a frown. You simply blink at him.

“What?”

“She’s a slut because she has sex with her boyfriend?” He challenges you, shaking his head. The past week, Bradley has been spoon-feeding you content about the sexual culture through the history of Rome. You nod like you understand and yet, you come out with bullshit like that.

He’s the one who challenged you. You simply answer back.

“She’s a slut because he’s not her boyfriend. They’ll both tell you that.” You tell him, defiance coursing through your veins in lieu of anything that might have helped you make a stronger argument.

“What does that make me? — You listen to my stories with a smile on your face. It’s not dirty until it’s someone you don’t like, huh?” Bradley asks. He’s right, you know that much. Bradley has indubitably slept with far more people than Robin possibly could have.

Still, maybe it’s his tone that makes you need to bite back so quickly. Hands on your hips and a scowl on your face, you stand off against him before the fountain. “What does it matter to you if I think she’s a slut?”

“It matters —“ Bradley stops and takes a deep breath. He leans in by three inches and you’re met with that familiar woody smell that just makes you want him even closer. “Use your brain. Whatever your mommy and daddy taught you back home is bullshit — you’re the odd one out.”

With that, he turns and starts away from you. He won’t leave you to walk home alone, but he will walk six paces ahead so that you’re clear with the fact that you have once again stepped on his nerves.

“I’m the odd one out for respecting my body?” You call out to him.

“Respecting it, ignoring it… same difference, right? — It’s your call, honey,” Bradley walks slowly closer until the toe of his sneaker brushes yours. He lowers his voice, calm. “But choosing not to have sex doesn’t make you better than Robin.”

“I’m not your honey.” You bite back.

“Right,” Bradley nods at you. He lifts his arms and drops them back against his sides incredulously. “But here we are.”

It’s an eleven minute walk back to the hotel. You stroll behind him, sullen like a scolded child. The letter feels heavy in your bag. He might not have called you a slut, but you’ve been put in your place nonetheless. The words would never pass your lips — but he’s right. The comparison’s right there in front of you, all around you. You’re living it.

She can’t be a slut for sleeping with one boy if you’re not for whatever you’ve got going on with Bradley.

You would hold it against her, crushing like a weight, if she told your story back to you. If she was the one with a fiancé at home and a professor who spent afternoons in her hotel room.

Still, your face is hot and you’re not ready to speak to him. Halfway across the herati patterned rug that covers most of the reception area, Bradley turns and looks at you as he tucks the arm of his sunglasses into the collar of his t-shirt.

Chin high and shoulders squared, your clear path is to walk right by him. Just as you always have when a man in your life has embarrassed you.

One step ahead, Bradley catches your wrist loosely, stopping you mid-stride. “Dinner’s in five. Remember?”

“I’m not going to dinner with you.” Your answer is simple and biting. Childish. He wouldn’t be surprised if you crossed your arms and stomped your foot.

“It’s not up for discussion. Everyone’s going.” Bradley explains. Right on time, he lifts his gaze and spots Pasquale headed towards the two of you from across the lobby. It’s not like he won’t have seen the two of you argue before.

He reaches you with a smile and stands at Bradley’s side. His bald head has caught the sun, reddened slightly with head. The smile lines beside his eyes always crease when he beams at Bradley. He stands almost an entire foot shorter. Looking up at him and grinning like a kid, even though he’s older than Bradley.

“Hi, guys!” He pats Bradley’s arm jovially and turns that wide, cheesy grin to you. “How is the revision going?”

Your eyes land on the professor and suddenly there’s something dark about them that has simply nothing to do with eye colour, and everything to do with the mood he put you in.

Pasquale lives in ignorant bliss for the two seconds that it takes you to settle your hands into the shallow pockets of your lemon shorts and narrow your eyes at the professor. “Bradley’s a self-righteous asshole.”

“But what else is new!” Pasquale tries. The laugh is forced out of him and nerves shake through it. He shoots Bradley an apologetic look. Bradley’s looking at you anyway.

“She got a C minus yesterday. Still trying to figure out if it was a fluke.” Bradley bites. Your eyes widen.

Sitting on his lap, wrapped in his arms as he told you how hard you had worked — how proud he was. His hand trailing your spine. His mouth soft against yours. Butterflies tearing through your stomach.

“I think I got too much sun today. I’m going to lie down. Enjoy dinner.” Fuck mandatory. Fuck every single student on this trip. Fuck this class, and fuck him in particular. Pasquale swallows softly as you turn on your heel and head for the stairs.

Bradley turns his chin towards the ceiling. He wants to like you, he wants you to like him. In the moments that you do, everything feels so easy. Like the breeze in early June. But when you’re hell bent on arguing with him — those are like those scorching hot summers back in California. Surrounding and heavy. Pressing in on him until he bites.

“A C… that’s not so bad. Right?” Pasquale asks quietly. Bradley turns his head and looks at him, there isn’t really an answer to give. A B is the average in his class, so no — a C really isn’t bad.

The thing about old Italian hotels is that they tend to be marketed towards guests looking to lead quiet lives — romantic getaways and such. Not young women fuelled by anger. The door slams and teaches you a quick lesson in cause and effect. The painting hung on the wall to the right of the bed wobbles in complaint, then bumps to the floor. The glass frame promptly shatters across the floor.

There’s an almost calm silence that follows. A few slow blinks, and the glass is still there. The frame is still shattered. There are pieces all across the floor. Bradley still said what he said.

The soles of your tennis shoes are thin and pliant, excellent for movement but not designed to fend off glass shards. Crossing the floor at that exact moment seems like far too much of a challenge. So, you press your back to the door and slide down it. Cupping your hands tight over your mouth, you clamp your eyes tightly shut and let it go.

The scream is muffled by your palms, but probably still enough to alarm other guests.

Your bag clatters haphazardly to the floor and you lift your face from your hands just long enough to examine the mess once again. Huffing out a sadder sound than you had intended, you push weakly to your feet once again.

Until today, Verona had been your favourite stop so far. Even with that spoiled, at least you have an en-suite here. You’re more careful with that door. You tug it closed and lock it behind you, toeing off each of your shoes as you go.

These old hotels have old water heaters too. You lean across to turn the shower on first and wriggle out of your shorts, dropping your polo onto the ground with them. Facing straight ahead, you stare into the little round mirror above the sink. It’s got molding all around it that was supposed to look gold once, but the peeling paint reveals brass underneath.

Your reflection stares back at you, sullen. It’s a portrait, just your head, shoulders and chest. Swallowing doesn’t make the thickness in your throat fade. You just blink at your reflection in the mirror. The cotton t-shirt bra hugged to your chest is modest and does it’s job — nothing more.

You’ve seen lingerie — you own lingerie. You have a white teddy with matching panties reserved especially for your wedding night. Bradley has most definitely seen lingerie.

A swift inhale is followed by a baited exhale.

The memory is so distinct, standing in a mall with your mother at the ripe age of twelve, watching her soured expression as she searched through the rack.

“Lace, lace, lace.” She had tutted. Back then, you had been more concerned about someone you knew seeing you here, shopping for your first bra. You hadn’t understood.

“Mom, just grab one. I want to go home. I don’t care what I wear.” You had whined, fidgeting on your feet and brushing awkwardly at the pleats of your dress. You’ll always remember the way that she had rounded on you, eyes wide like you had asked her to buy you a thong.

“Well you should, young lady!” Her voice always sounded scarier when you were younger, even though it had always been hushed and poised.

You have been a grown up for a while now. Lived outside of her home. Had your own bank account, car, clothes — and that voice still circles in your head.

The nightdress she had gotten you last Christmas is hanging on the back of the door. Malcolm hates it. He says it reminds him of his grandmother.

You look down at the thread scissors from your sewing kit resting on the shelf beside the sink. Anger has often led you to some of your best DIYs.

“So, we all have to be here… except not actually all of us.” Robin points out, leaning back in her seat and crossing her arms over her striped t-shirt. Elbow resting on the table, Bradley turns his head to look at her.

“She’s sick, Robin, leave her alone.” Abigail mutters from beside her, pushing her fork around the plate of roasted vegetables.

“No, but I heard Bradley say mandatory. So, mandatory for everyone except—“

“Robin.” Bradley sighs, sitting back in his seat and frowning at her. The restaurant is dimly lit, almost ten of them are cramped around a table in the corner, and after your argument today, Bradley just doesn’t want to hear it. “I don’t want to hear another damn word.”

This is what Bradley hates most about education. Half of the time a punishment for his students is more of a punishment for himself, which this dinner just so happens to be. He wants them to like you. He doesn’t want to hear the bitter comments and the arguing.

Everyone’s eager to get it wrapped up and over with. It’s still early by the time that he heads back to the hotel — everyone else decides to go out for drinks again, without you. Making the entire thing pointless.

The knock at your door startles you. You wince as the pin slips into the tip of your finger, inhaling sharply. Abandoning the project on the bed, you push yourself to your feet and walk over to the door. You already know who it is.

Bradley’s gaze flickers down at the sweat shorts and T-shirt you’re wearing first, then back up to your face.

“How was dinner?” You’re already turning away from him again, stepping onto the bed and tiptoeing back across the sheets. Bradley glances behind him, then steps inside and closes the door.

“Are you done sulking?” He rests his hands on the leather belt wrapped around his hips. Sewing needle in hand, you lift your head and stare, silent. “I’m allowed to disagree—“

“Fuck you,” This time, you don’t give him a chance to finish. You turn your head and continue to thread the new hem. “What you said was cruel and you know it, this isn’t about a disagreement.”

His gaze turns towards the ceiling, hands still sitting atop his belt.

“It was. I’m sorry.” He mutters with an exhale and a shake of his head. Bradley looks back at you finally. His brows draw together and he takes a step into the room. “What are you doing?”

“Hemming.” Your answer is short.

Briefly, Bradley presses his tongue into his cheek and considers just saying goodnight. Then, he notices exactly what it is that you’re working on.

“Did you cut that in half?” He’s already crossing the room and craning his neck to get a better look. Unluckily for him, you’re finished. He watches you look up at him through your lashes and lift the nightdress, then stand up from the bed. “Oh, you’re ignoring me now?”

The door to the bathroom swings shut behind you, the thin wood does nothing to muffle your voice. “I’m not ignoring you.”

Bradley’s attention has already waned. He’s looking at the paper on your nightstand. His drawing from earlier is uncurled and illuminated in the light of the lamp, below that is your address book — opened to a page with Malcolm’s name. Dotted around are little pink hearts, his number neatly written along the line.

“Are you snooping?”

Bradley flinches, turning back towards you with a swift inhale. He remains silent, lips parted as you march from the bathroom to the wood-framed mirror about three feet from where he’s standing.

Aware of his eyes on you, you study the new garment. It sits a few inches above your knee, just above mid-thigh. The sweetheart neckline keeps it sweet. Bradley’s eyes flicker briefly downwards in the reflection. With the window open, he can’t help but notice your nipples peaked against the light cotton blend.

“What’s this?” He asks quietly.

“I wanted a change.” You answer him.

He lifts his gaze to your face, just in time for you to turn and face him. Half an hour ago, you were talking to your fiancé — and yet, you’ve got no shame in searching for Bradley’s approval like this. Maybe you aren’t as pure as you had once thought, or as your mother would like you to be. But for now, standing in front of him, you aren’t ashamed.

Malcolm had called you today from his office. He was eating a sub that one of the interns had grabbed from him and he was telling you about his week. Numbers and figures.

You had thought of everything you could tell him. Juliet and the views of the city, sitting under the tree in that garden this afternoon. Bradley.

“I’m sorry that I said what I said.” Bradley tells you. Maybe it’s just because he’s desperate to get the conversation off of the light fabric you’re wearing, but something tells you that he means it. “It was childish, and you’re right, I was being cruel.

Barefoot, you take four short steps forwards until you’re standing right in front of him.

“I’m not saying you’re right — but I shouldn’t have called Robin a slut.” The admission comes with a small, lip-twitching smile. Bradley’s hands reach forwards and curl around your hips.

“She is annoying. I’ll give you that much.” Bradley concedes. Your mouth twists into an eager grin as you press closer and shift up onto your tiptoes. Bradley steadies your hips and follows you in until your mouth is on his. Slowly, sweetly. His hands skim along the yellow fabric experimentally. He hums as he pulls away from you. “So, what’s with this?”

“You’re right. I was ignoring my body — I like the way I look in this. I like my shape. I can still respect myself without covering up so much. Right?”

Fuck. Bradley stares at you for just a split-second too long. He wrestles with the realisation of what he has just done to himself. Sure, you listened to him for once and it was a decent lesson to learn — but his summer just got considerably harder.

“Do you like it?”

He trails his fingers lightly along the fabric, careful not to touch too hard and press it against your skin. Quietly, he hums. “Sure. It’s cute.”

Bradley’s mind is swimming as he is walking back to his room. Fine, he resolved the issue that he went up there to resolve. Now, he has presented himself with a much bigger one.

His hands press into the pockets of his jeans as he starts to contextualize how deep he actually is into this mess. He hasn’t ever thought about fucking a student before — not once. He detests the men he knows that fantasize of it. And yet, here he is, picturing his fingers bunching up that stupid nightdress.

“Hey, Bradley.” Luke grins, sprawled out across his bed in the dark, reading a magazine with a flashlight. Bradley flinches. The door shuts behind him and they’re in there together. “Natasha called from Turin! She told you that she’s going to be in Venice this weekend too, she asked you to call her back.”

…

Tags: @thedroneranger @batdanceq @cassiemitchell @himbos-on-ice @wkndwlff @bradshawsbaby @damrlova @fudge13 @xoxabs88xox @mak-32 @sihtricswife @callsignvenus @callsign-joyride @harper1666 @krismdavis @sheisanangell @thecitysgraveyard @sugarcoated-lame @kmc1989 @cherrycola27

[madhatterbri]

New Deal | HOOK

Summary: Y/N's friend betrays her to the Senerchia family.

Author's Note: @99hook Thanks for everything, boo. When we finally meet, I won't throw your ass into the ocean. ❤️😂 When is that next part coming out?

Tag List: @plentyoffandoms @theworldofotps @multi-fandom-things730

Pure fiction ❤️

"They won't give us an extension, you know. The Senerchias. They said they've been too lenient with us and don't want people to think they are getting soft," your friend whispered from behind the counter that was once her family's restaurant. Almost everything was sold to try and pay off their debts, but they couldn't come up with the money.

"Why are you whispering?" You asked with the same soft tone. With no customers around, it wasn't like anyone could hear. She nodded towards a corner of the room. A camera was pointed at them. The look of fear in her eyes made you realize one thing. The Senerchias had the place bugged.

The Senerchias were known all throughout New York. They helped the community by giving out money to those who needed it. They expected to be paid back by the agreed upon deadline. What many didn't know was the extremes they would go to get paid back.

"I hear the boss is an ass, but maybe you could talk to his son. You went to school with him. Maybe things will be different," you spoke hopefully. You knew the answer the moment she frowned at you.

"Tyler was the one that told us they were coming sometime this week. He didn't seem too thrilled to see me, either. I guess he won't be coming to the high school reunion. I'm wondering if I'll even make it," she gulped.

A car's headlights shined through the windows. The lights turned off as soon as the car shut off. Your friend gulped yet smiled at you. She took out her phone from her pocket. Her mouth dropped open when an idea popped in her head.

"Do you mind letting them in? I just have to go out back and make a quick phone call to my uncle to let him know they are here," she spoke. "It'll take like a few seconds,"

You nodded, and your friend hugged you tightly. She told you thank you and slipped out the back door. Two men appeared at the front door. One was bald with a snake tattooed over his right ear. He was bigger than the other one and appeared to be the muscles of the group. The second man was balding. He seemed more like the talker of the two. Both men wore suits with gold chains. The man with the snake tattoo was shaking the handle impatiently to be let in.

"Coming!" You called out, trying to sound confident. Your legs felt like jello as you made your way towards the door. Nothing could be heard except for the loud pounding in your heart. You opened the door wide enough to let them in.

"Look at this, Enzo. This dude let his niece take the hit. That's some punk shit," the man with the snake tattoo scowled.

"No one wants to mess with the boss. Man probably hiding somewhere shaking like a leaf," Enzo chuckled and rolled his eyes.

"I'm not the niece. She stepped out back to call her uncle to let him know you were here," you informed them and pointed to the back door.

"Just go check it out, Cobra. Ty gave them clear instructions yesterday," Enzo shooed the other away. Cobra grumbled about how this better not be a trick as he walked towards the back.

He opened the wooden back door and stepped out. A blast of the cold night air filled the restaurant. Seconds ticked away. It felt like an eternity of waiting for the man to come back. When he did, your friend was nowhere to be found.

"Either you are making up the story or your friend crossed ya, which is it?" Cobra asked roughly and slammed the door behind him.

"I'm not lying. She said she was going to step out to call her uncle. I've been friends with her since middle school. I believed her," you whispered the last part. A sudden realization hit on how stupid that must sound to them. They probably didn't trust many people.

Cobra nodded towards Enzo at the front door. In one quick movement, the man grabbed your wrist tightly. The force made your teeth clench and hiss. You were sure he was going to leave a bruise.

"You are coming with us," Enzo instructed and led you towards the waiting car. A man sat in the driver seat, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel.

"I'm not the niece," you begged and tried to remove his grasp from your wrist.

"And my misses made roast tonight, and I ain't letting it get cold," Cobra announced and opened the back door while running to the other side. The man sat in the back seat. Your captor shoved you in the car before sitting next to you. You now sat between the two men involved in your kidnapping.

"We will make it easy for you," Cobra smiled and pulled out a gun. You gasped and looked at him with fear in your eyes. He placed the barrel to your head. "Play a stupid game, and you'll win a stupid prize, capiche?"

"And please don't do anything stupid," Enzo sighed and looked down at his suit. "These are quite expensive, and I'm banned in all of the dry cleaning shops in New York and New Jersey,"

Your mouth opened to speak, yet nothing came out. Tears quickly pooled in your eyes. You closed your eyes and nodded quickly.

"They get softer every year," Cobra grumbled and rolled his eyes.

The car ride was not as expected. The driver hummed a lively tune, much to the annoyance of the two men sitting with you. You tried to keep quiet. Mentally remembering anything and everything just in case you were able to escape.

The car ride ended by some old abandoned buildings. Broken glass littered the floor, and graffiti riddled the buildings. A limousine, clearly out of place given the area, was parked. The driver stopped the car and stepped out. He leaned against the car and started to smoke. Enzo was the next to vacate the vehicle. Cobra followed and dragged you out.

A tall man with brown hair stepped out of the waiting limousine. He wore a suit similar to the ones that the other men wore. A gold chain with a cross hung from his neck. He took a few steps towards them and crossed his arms. Something was clearly wrong.

"Here she is, Ty," Enzo announced. "Where do you want us to put her for that ransom video to uncle?"

Tyler moved as if looking around you to see someone else. He had a scowl on his face. A vein popped out to show his annoyance at his men. He wanted to send Anthony, Dante, and Darius for the job, but his dear old dad insisted these fools.

"This isn't the right girl," he spoke calmly, yet his words were drenched in anger. His nostrils flared. "I gave you a picture of the girl. Get rid of this one somewhere and get me the right one,"

Tyler started walking back to the limousine. He muttered under his breath about the incompetence of others.

"Done," Cobra shrugged and pulled out his gun. The barrel was once again pressed to your body. You felt the cold ring of the metal against your temple.

"Wait, wait, wait!" You begged and threw your hands up. "I'll help you get her,"

Tyler stopped and turned to look at you. He mulled your words over before entertaining your idea. Hell, you were even shocked that you would help them. Then again your friend deserved it.

"Pretty dangerous proposition you are making today. Making a deal with the mafia. Are you sure you are up for it?"

"She betrayed me. She and I hang out all the time. I can just come up with a lie," you assured him.

"Forget the girl. Give me the uncle, and I will let you live, deal?" He asked and reached out his hand to you. You stared at his hand briefly. You wondered how many lives it had taken before.

"Deal," you answered and shook his hand. For someone so rough they were surprisingly soft.

[alianoralacanta]

Hi Alianora! I am curious to know your thoughts on Ferrari and PR. Particularly how they do damage control. 2022 comes to mind, and this year's triple header as well.

Maybe it's because I don't keep up with other team statements as much but Ferrari seem to be less... transparent?? with their struggles as a team. Binotto in 2022 comes to mind when he would pin the blame on his drivers and say that nothing needs to change.

Also Charles in particular plays the PR game more than Carlos. I mean, this year in China, Charles said the two of them had talked and everything was fine, but then when asked, Carlos said the complete opposite and that they hadn't actually sorted it out. Oops.

I remember specifically Charles saying the team was "extremely united, no division" in 2022 but then multiple statements of his in 2023 under Vasseur imply otherwise.

Ferrari seem to be more willing to throw their drivers under the bus when shit hits the fan and it's more clear that the team messed up big time. Vasseur will have no problem defending Charles in weekends where Ferrari aren't a complete disaster, but in situations like the triple header, he's willing to shift the focus on the drivers.

Is it a Ferrari pride sort of thing?

Ferrari and PR

Firstly, apologies for the long delay in replying. This is my 3rd attempt at finding a coherent frame for my thoughts on the subject. I hope this works. If it does not, please request clarification, reframing or simply to have another attempt.

Also, fair warning: long essay. This essay is 6060 words long, excluding headings. As such, it will be divided into multiple “read more” sections. Tumblr only allows this by posting the essay multiple times, with a fresh addition each time. Please wait for the “Essay complete. Hope this helps” before reblogging. Firstly, PR is not a monolith. Humanity is not a monolith with one unified opinion of what everything is and how everything works. They agree and disagree on what is appealing in a statement made to them on a given subject. Thus, PR can and often is tailored to particular audiences. Furthermore, different groups that produce PR value different things. Section 1: What does Ferrari value? (Ferrari myth PR)

Ferrari has been stricter about PR than any other team. Part of this originated with Enzo Ferrari himself, for he was careful to ensure that nothing was said that undermined Ferrari's political position or offended his sense of what the speaker's job should be (driver or engineer). It has to be said that this didn't put the boundaries in the same place as any modern team's PR approach. While complaining about the team or car being slow was considered just as wrong then as now, a driver saying they'd been cautious because the race was long would also be considered bad. Enzo considered it his job to worry about the car, and the driver's job to press the car as hard as possible. (An engineer who suggested putting less emphasis on the engine in favour of the chassis would fare no better). On the other hand, skipping a sponsor event to go kart would probably meet with his approval. (Whether he would have regarded Max's sim racing as similar enough to treat likewise is unknown, since race driving software wasn't very sophisticated in the 1980s). Later in Enzo Ferrari's career, there began to be more emphasis on Ferrari the myth. Niki Lauda was not particularly appreciated while he was at Ferrari because his approach was so different from Enzo's ideal, but Niki became far more appreciated after that because Enzo realised what he'd done had, in fact, resulted in Ferrari's myth strengthening. (The title did no harm either). Gilles Villeneuve encapsulated what it meant to augment the Ferrari myth. The intervening decades ended up condensing the traits that became part of "Ferrari myth PR": - humble and modest - fast - respectful of opponents - downplaying team psuedopolitics - eloquent and concise when needed - competing with style, verve and boldness - able and willing to do the impossible - believing in the team even when it does not believe in itself - remember one represents a dream - remember that, whatever one's nationality, one represents the honour of the tifosi The price for defying PR in the Enzo Ferrari era was variable and fickle, due to the perennial psuedopolitics behind the scenes. (The situation under Fred Vasseur would have been considered relatively calm back then. Some parts of the Mattia Binotto era, not so much).

[kissorkill16]

Mr. Peterson's Guest: A Hello Neighbor Fanfic

By JJ

Summary: Nicky's been in the basement for a while now, and he seems to have lost more than his freedom.

Gift for @averagenickyrothfan

Trinity woke up, rubbing her temple. It hurt like hell. The first thing she saw was a window, she immediately got up and ran to it, but her hopes had been smashed to bits when she found out it was all just a charcoal drawing.

Just then, everyone else woke up, rubbing their temples.

"Where the hell are we?", Maritza asked.

"I don't know, but I don't like it! I don't want to die in here!", Ivan screamed.

Trinity ran to console Ivan, wrapping her arms around him. Everyone jumped up when they heard another voice.

"Guys! You're here!"

In the corner of the room, they saw Nicky. Nicky had been missing for weeks, Trinity knew he was down here in Mr. Peterson's basement, because she had helped him come in here. She couldn't do much from her room, and she knew if she told anyone, no one would believe her.

Trinity ran to Nicky and wrapped her arms around him.

"Nicky! Oh my God! Thank goodness you're okay! We were so worried!", she cried into his shoulder. She jumped back when she saw the giant laceration on her friend's arm.

"Your arm..."

"Oh, this? Yeah, one of my escape plans failed, and I accidentally cut myself. Mr. Peterson promised me he'd clean it, but I guess he forgot."

Maritza rolled her eyes. She tore off a piece of her shirt and wrapped it around Nicky's arm. "I know it won't do much, but it'll stop the bleeding."

"Thank you so much, Maritza."

"Yeah, whatever."

"Enough chit chat!", Trinity said. "We have to get out of here! Everyone start looking for a way out!", she ran to the door and started twisting the knob as hard as she could.

"No. Trinity, I don't want to leave."

Everyone turned to Nicky in shock.

"I don't want to leave the basement. I'm safe here, everything's okay."

"Nicky, everything is NOT okay. You've been missing for weeks, and people are starting to get worried.", said Enzo.

"Did anyone put up missing posters?"

"No."

"Were there any search parties?"

"No."

"Did either of my parents go crying to the police trying to find me?"

"Not that I know of."

"That doesn't sound like people are worried.", Nicky said. "They're all happy I'm gone. I don't blame them, though. I was such a jerk, I was a bad boy. Down here, I can be a good person. I have a playmate, and they're really nice as long as I play games with them."

Trinity was so fucking confused.

"But Mr. Peterson -"

"Is such a great caretaker. He's been feeding me, and he only let me out of the basement to go to the bathroom or when he wanted to make renovations. I know that sounds crazy, but I got used to it."

"Nicky, you're not making any sense!"

"He's just a lonely old man who just wants a family, and he thinks I'm the perfect candidate. It makes sense since I've been stalking him and breaking into his house for the past few months."

"But -"

"And you guys are here with me! That makes it even better! Now I'm not alone!"

Trinity grabbed Nicky by the shoulders and shook him aggressively. "Nicky! He's clearly broken you! Don't you remember? He's not a lonely old man, he's a fucking psychopath!"

Nicky pushed Trinity away. "Don't say that! If you guys want to leave here, then go for it! But I'm not leaving."

"Oh yes you are.", Maritza said before hitting Nicky over the head with a loose board.

Nicky fell over, now unconscious. Trinity hoisted the boy over her shoulder, like she was going to carry him.

"We have to get out of here."

[imaginefan]

Alone

Lorenzo St. John X Reader

Word Count: 703

Requested: Anon

Request: You turn off your humanity cause your parents died. Enzo was the only person who actually cares about you but he got distant from you cause he was getting closer to Bonnie and didn't see the signs that you were really bad. He tries to get you back but you won't listen to him and he's also why you shut it off too cause you lost Enzo too even though he is still around.

Tvd one shot please.

You can’t believe that you hadn’t seen them before they died, they kept asking you too but you kept telling them that you were busy, you don’t even know what had you so busy. No that’s a lie you knew what it was, it was the friends that claimed that would do the same for you but they weren’t even at the funeral, the ones that you died for yourself, the ones that you continued to fight for even when you should have gone home and now as you stood over the graves of your parents with none of them there, you wondered if it was even worth continuing but it’s much harder to stop when you were immortal.

So you did something else, something that was supposed to make you feel better but all it did was make you feel empty. The only difference was that you couldn’t find it in you to care, with your emotions turned off you couldn’t care what happened around you. That was how you found yourself in a back alley bar everyone around you was dead and you had just finished feeding “(Y/N) what are you doing?” You recognised the voice immediately. “Enzo, I didn’t know that you’d be around here.” You smiled as you gestured around the room. “You are hungry, take your pick. What’s mine is yours.” You winked as you leaned back in your chair “or maybe you want something else, I’ve never really been a big consumer of alcohol so you can definitely have whatever is behind the bar.” “(Y/N) what happened?” He asked. “They’re dead.” You answered “while I was out helping all of you, they died, you know the last time I saw them was before I was a vampire and that was almost 3 years ago now.” “(Y/N)-” “I know that 3 years aren’t that many to you given the fact that you’ve lived so long and before I know it 3 years will be nothing to me either right?” You asked. “(Y/N) I know that you have lost everything but-” “You know the worst part wasn’t that I lost them, it was that the people I still had weren’t there, when I had been there for every one of them, when Jeremy died I sat with Elena, when Caroline was turned I tried to help her where I could, when Bonnie found out about her magic I was there too but the only reason that I’m here to grieve today was because you… A stranger at the time thought I was worth more alive than dead.” You said and he looked down at his hands. “Do you wish that I had let you die that day?” He asked. “You know even after everything, I’m not sure that I do but I’d have to flip that switch to know for sure right?” You asked. “Do you think they would still be alive if I was dead?” “I don’t know, do you believe that it was our enemies that killed them?” He asked. “There was hardly anything left of them, it couldn’t have been anything else.” You answered. “You saw them?” He asked. “They needed someone to identify what was left of them.” You answered “they left their faces so I would know that they were gone.” “So tell me what are you doing here?” He asked. “What do you mean?” You asked. “Well why aren’t we looking for the people who killed your parents, you know I would move heaven and earth for you.” He said. “I didn’t know that.” You answered through gritted teeth “when I stood alone, crying, you know they had no family to see them off, I was their only child and everyone else had died before them, I was there alone.” “I never meant for you to be alone.” He said “I didn’t know.” “You didn’t know because you pulled away long before they died, so leave me be, I’m not the reason that we play hero.” You were gone before he could say anything else but he had failed you, everyone had, he couldn't make them see but he could surely fix what he had done if he tried.

Requests and general question!

[shiftingwithmars]

Mattheo learns what love is

A/N:I just thought of this cute little trop of Mattheo learning what love is<3

Warnings:Fluff, Angst, kissing, swearing, extreme cuteness, Mattheo Riddle being a lovable idiot.

Summary:Obviously Mattheo’s father can’t feel love, which means Mattheo shouldn’t be able to either. But this was different.

You and Mattheo had been best friends ever since third year, but you both knew it was more than that. Maybe it has started out as friends, but now it’s so much more. You’d never admit it, but you were in love with Mattheo Riddle. The saddest part? Mattheo can’t feel love. Tom’s mother had used a love potion on his father, resulting in Tom not being able to feel love, which also meant that his son Mattheo couldn’t feel love. You tried to distract yourself from your feelings, going out and flirting with other guys to distract yourself. None of them made you feel the way Mattheo did though. But tonight, something changed.

You sat in the Slytherin common room, talking with Draco about some potions assignment. Mattheo watched from afar, trying to ignore the pit in his stomach. Watching you talk with his cousin like that, the exact same way you would talk to him, it made his heart feel heavy. Why did he feel like this? You were supposed to be his best friend, not Draco’s. After a few seconds, Mattheo finally decided he’d had enough. You were his best friend, only he could laugh at your jokes, only he could compliment you on how smart you were, constantly reminding you of it every time you doubted yourself. Mattheo got up and walked over to you, pulling you away from Draco. Mattheo’s hands gripped your waist firmly as he pressed you close to him. “Back off Malfoy.” He said harshly as he glared at Draco. Draco looked at Mattheo then back at you, an amused smile growing on his face. “As you wish, Riddle.” Draco said with a hint of amusement in his tone, as if he knew something that Mattheo didn’t. Draco walked off, and Mattheo looked down at you, his hands still on your waist. “Mattheo, what the hell was that?” You asked him with a raised brow. “I think you’ve been spending too much time with Draco.” Mattheo said with a shrug. “You told me you wanted me to spend some more time with your friends!” You replied with a slight scoff, and Mattheo’s eyes flashed with jealousy. “Yeah, some time, not my time!” He replied with a hint of hurt in his tone. “Mattheo what has gotten into you?” You asked with a slight hint of concern in your tone. “You’re supposed to be mine! Not Draco’s, not Enzo’s, not Theo’s, mine.” Mattheo replied with a somewhat stern tone, his grip on your waist tightening ever so slightly. “Look, Mattheo, you’re my best friend-“ You were cut off as Mattheo interrupted. “Oh really? ‘Just friends’, huh? ‘Just friends’ don’t spend every day together. ‘Just friends’ don’t look at the each other the way we look at each other. ‘Just friends’ don’t feel like punching anyone who gets too close to each other.” Mattheo said with a foreign look in his eyes. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was in love. “What are you saying, Riddle?” You asked as you crossed your arms over your chest. “I’m saying I love you!“ Mattheo blurted, looking like he regretted it the second he said it. “I think I’ve always loved you…” Mattheo added, and you just stared at him. Mattheo grew a little panicked by the silence, but then, you finally spoke. “But-I thought-“ You started, and Mattheo sighed. “I know. I thought so too. But,” He leaned closer. “I love you. So much. More than I thought was possible for someone to love.” You looked up at him before leaning in and kissing him. He kissed you back, and after a few seconds you pulled away. “I love you too.” You confessed, pulling him into a tight hug.

[crossedsabers10s]

Hi! just read charnal house floor and adored it-- the dramatic irony, the tension, the rising horror; liz calling damon young which is so terrible because she's right he always will be and yet he absolutely isn't.... art.

I did want to ask, how do you think something similar would go down when they are closer, when liz knows damon's a vampire, when they are both a bit more traumatized, when liz has once tortured damon herself and he's forgiven her that?? like if it were around season 3 or so. I ask mostly because I just really love it when people feel sorry for damon shjddk anyway you're an amazing writer and happy new year !

fjkl;adfdsalfkj thank you!

hm, later in the show when they're friends/she knows? Well, the same story line (her showing him the storage room, perhaps even as a show of reconciliation? her showing a vampire the secret stuff?) relies on Liz forgetting she knows about Augustine or just not considering it important so it remains as status quo until that moment and Damon finds out. He is. Less likely to attack her? Probably--tho we all know how Damon deals with sudden strong emotions-- and she'd realize that this is personal to him, even making the leap that he was involved w Augustine at one point. Which would possibly result in her prying a few horrific details out of him--he's sharing them to shock her into not asking more, she's staying calm and treating him like a victim, falling back on her training, which he does notice and switches to telling her he already took revenge, bc he wants her to see him as villain instead of victim, maybe which spawns her researching the Whitmore family and all of his victims perhaps even preventing him from killing Aaron's aunt bc she's like 'does it make you feel better? does revenge help? this woman never hurt you.' and he's all 'it makes me feel better' but then through the power of friendship he's forced to confront the fact that revenge is ultimately empty/isn't going to bring back Enzo or absolve Damon's role in his 'death' and Liz convinces him that tearing apart the organization and dragging the non-supernatural shady shit to light is a better vengeance than random murder of people who are like. Innocent of the original crime and Dr. Whitmore isn't even alive to care that his family is being hunted down. Tearing down his legacy tho? the college and program and all that? Ruining his name and memory? That's where it's at. So they do that, discover Enzo, and bam. Of course, then Liz has to convince Enzo not to kill Aaron/Aaron's aunt. She could probably call them even for her getting the ball rolling on his rescue as long as he doesn't go after them and instead focus on Wes. They drag Enzo back to Mystic and suddenly, amongst the Original Plotline, they have to deal with Damon's... ex? friend? ex friend? no one is sure. Liz and Damon are keeping quiet. Enzo is too busy being free to answer questions.

OR

she now knows vampires feel and think as people do, remembers Augustine exists and guiltily goes out of her way to check in with them--maybe to convince herself that the vampire they have is a bad one and therefore deserves it? and instead finds. Well. Enzo. when she tries to dig further, she's either shut down or they try to silence her. So she starts... going about it the legal way. Do you have a permit for that? Oh hey I noticed you ordered a bunch of medical supplies. Where did that go? Throws the book at them until they Do Something about it and gets kidnapped so Augustine can figure out why she's making trouble/maybe they even found out about Caroline and threatened her. Liz, drawing her gun: Frankenstein wannabes say what? Whatever, point is, she rescues Enzo, brings him back to Mystic and goes hey maybe I should ask Damon for help? Maybe this guy would feel more comfortable with another vampire. Damon, walking into the room because Liz asked him to help her with something: this isn't the last thing i expected but only because i didn't expect it at all. Enzo: *kill bill sirens*