☽ ephemeral /ɪˈfɛm(ə)r(ə)l/ adjective: lasting only a moment; delicate as smoke, gone before you can hold it. a heartbeat borrowed from eternity ☽ I could almost see the shadows of his past, the echoes of a father whose own battles had left marks far deeper than physical bruises. In his defiance, in his unyielding refusal to be anything but who he was, I sensed a desperate bid for identity, a silent plea not to repeat the legacy he feared. .·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·. Maeve Foster stopped believing in permanence a long time ago. Being the daughter of an Air Force officer means never staying in one place long enough to put down roots - or get attached. Niall Horan has spent his whole life in the same small town, watching people come and go like the tide. He's learnt not to get too close because, as his family says, nothing good ever stays. His father left years ago, his mother barely holds things together, and he's long since learnt that if he wants his own way out, he'll have to carve his own path. Even if it means carrying the weight of someone else's childhood on his back. Together, Maeve and Niall are a contradiction, something fleeting that feels inevitable. A flame that should've gone out long ago, yet never does. She's spent her whole life leaving, never letting herself get too close. He's spent his whole life being left behind, pretending it doesn't hurt. Maybe that's the cruellest part, because love was never the problem. Time was.

𖡎 palimpsest /ˈpalɪm(p)sɛst/ noun: originally, a manuscript or parchment that has been scraped or washed clean, then written over again. Yet no erasure is ever complete-the old words remain, faint and stubborn, shadows beneath the new. ∴ a text that carries two stories at once: what is present, and what refuses to vanish. by extension: a life layered in memory, the past pressed beneath the present, ghost-ink bleeding through no matter how much you try to rewrite it. to live as a palimpsest is to be haunted-every moment doubled, nothing truly forgotten. 𖡎 Niall Horan has everything riding on his season - the scholarship, the scouts, the future he's been chasing since he first kicked a ball. Riley Maddox just wants a clean slate, far from the ghosts of a past she can't seem to outrun. They're strangers on the same campus, carrying weight neither of them can set down. Neither of them are looking for each other. But some memories refuse to be forgotten.

I hate her, I hate her, I fucking hate her. If she died right now, I wouldn't care. My main concern would be how I would get my money for this stunt. I have not an ounce of a feeling for this girl in front of me, yet I can't move under her angry gaze. I wouldn't dare. "Fuck you." I whisper out a pitiful insult to get the last word. "Fuck you." She replies just as quietly, taking a deep inhale as she holds our eye contact. She grinds her jaw as she stays looking at me, eyes scanning over my face with a huff. I hold my same scowl, still not backing away from her. I'm stuck in my place, my face not even an inch away from hers. I don't know how it happened, who started it, or what, but before I know it, her lips are on mine and I'm shoving her body backwards into the shelf. - Aubrey Hart and Harry Styles, costars in the movie "Forbidden Connection", hate each other. On screen, they're happily in love and yearning for each other's touch. Outside of that, though, it's constant yelling and fighting between the two of them. There's never a second of peace. Harry goes too far with what he says and Aubrey claps back in an instant. They don't clash very well whatsoever. When they're offered a big paycheck for a PR relationship, will the forced closeness become a little too real? Will they start to grow an understanding for each other? It's like they all say... there's a fine line between love and hate. **MATURE CONTENT** HIGHEST RANKINGS #1 in enemiestolovers #1 in harrystyles #1 in louistomlinson #1 in zaynmalik #1 in liampayne STARTED JANUARY 2021 - COMPLETED JULY 2021

"You'd be wise to tell me the truth. Which racer would the Circuit rather see dead?" "Redline." --- The Circuit is the top name in underground car racing - an elite, globally connected syndicate operating secretly beneath multiple polished fronts. Each season, it attracts blacklisted professional racers, unknown talents, and secret donors who are all chasing high-stake wins on illegal, unpredictable tracks. With a new season approaching, the racing world remains unsettled by the shocking conclusion to last year's run - and the role Harry Styles played in it. Known as Redline, his reputation was built on unmatched speed and precision. But a collision at the final race ended his most recent season just short of the win, and rumors suggest he hasn't quite recovered. Still, his brand can't afford to disappear. If he can't race, Redline still has to. He needs a ghost driver; someone who can match his skill, win under his name, and navigate the pressure the Circuit demands. Val has several lurking issues of her own. As a getaway driver for organized criminals, her life depends on speed, discretion, and skill. When she betrays a top client, she needs a way out - and fast. Unbeknownst to her, an offer is already lingering nearby. Deals are made. Obstacles lurk in each city. And two stubborn individuals must work together to ensure that Redline finishes this next season on top.

(ON GOING) MATURE CONTENT (+18) *PLEASE DO NOT COPY RIGHT!* "P-Please," He begs as his voice breaks. "This isn't a good idea Harry, What if you know who finds out? You're dead" His hand tightens at my hip, desperate. "I get that, but honey I'm tired of waiting, so fucking tired" I'm stunned by the rawness in him, so unlike the innocent boy I thought I knew. The way his emerald sea glass eyes shine reckless in my ocean one's, splits me apart endlessly by the sounds of our beating hearts in the night. He cups my face gently in the palm of his hands. "Show me," He cries out every word a plea. "Show me how to touch myself, I want to feel so fucking good, please, I need to learn, I'll be a good boy I swear" My breath catches. I glance around, the open barn, the scatter of hay beneath the stars, us, all alone. "Here?" He nods once, bites his lip in hunger, almost shaking. "Fuck yes. I can't wait. You're the only one who can handle all of me." A lost ballroom dancer bound to survive her new life. A lost cowboy bound to make a comeback in his life. Cowboyrry lovers this one's for you!🐴🫶🏼 I hope you all enjoy this story Thank you GoldenGirlyyy 🩷

❛stay a little longer❜ there is a list on my profile of the available translations of this story.

᎒ ੈ ✩ ‧₊ ᎒ ࿐ 🌊🥥 𝘋𝘌𝘈𝘋 𝘛𝘖 𝘔𝘌 IN WHICH she volunteers to be his fake girlfriend for the media with the intentions of destroying his career

» I didn't know you had a sister, Potter. «

Toxic Draco. Dumb Lucille. The book with a messy plot full of smut. You might fall in love with Lorenzo Berkshire. Oh, and I wrote this in under a month, so enjoy that *rushed* and *minimal effort* taste. + A book that takes unexpected turns of events. + More than just your regular mature fanfiction. {Half-Blood Prince | Deathly Hallows | Post-War} [Mature Content; Viewer Discretion is Advised; This book is semi-slow burn but once the mature content appears, it's very frequent.| Highest Rankings #1 draco #1 malfoy #1 mature #3 dracomalfoy #7 in fanfiction #9 in louispartridge started: september 30th, 2020 ended: october 23rd, 2020

† 𝔩𝔦𝔪𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔢 /ˈ𝔩ɪ𝔪ə𝔯ə𝔫𝔰/ 𝔞𝔡𝔧𝔢𝔠𝔱𝔦𝔳𝔢: 𝔞 𝔣𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔡 𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔱𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔡 𝔟𝔬𝔯𝔫 𝔬𝔣 𝔯𝔬𝔪𝔞𝔫𝔱𝔦𝔠 𝔣𝔦𝔵𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫; 𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔨𝔢𝔡 𝔟𝔶 𝔬𝔟𝔰𝔢𝔰𝔰𝔦𝔳𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔰, 𝔩𝔬𝔫𝔤𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔢𝔪𝔬𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫𝔞𝔩 𝔯𝔢𝔠𝔦𝔭𝔯𝔬𝔠𝔦𝔱𝔶, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔞𝔫 𝔞𝔠𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔡𝔢𝔭𝔢𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔶; ∴ 𝔡𝔢𝔳𝔬𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫 𝔡𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔰𝔢𝔡 𝔦𝔫 𝔡𝔢𝔩𝔲𝔰𝔦𝔬𝔫 † "Then tell me," I rasp. "Tell me and I'll deal with it. I'll handle it. Just-don't shut me out." "I can't," she says again, voice breaking. "I can't tell you. I can't be with you. And I can't stand here and watch you break and know that I'm the reason." She swallows hard, her throat moving. "Please don't make me explain it. Please just... stop." I take a step toward her anyway, rain dripping from my eyelashes, my chest hollow. "I don't care if it kills me," I say, and it's not bravado; it's a man with nothing left to barter. "If that's the price, fine. At least then I get to be with you before it ends." She makes a small sound, half sob, half laugh, and it's the most human thing I've ever heard from her. "Don't say that," she whispers, almost fierce. "Don't ever say that." She holds my eyes for one last beat, lips parted like she might say something else - something that could undo all of this, something that could make the rain stop mattering. But she doesn't. Instead, she exhales, low and unsteady, and shakes her head. "I'm sorry," she says again, softer now, like a confession. Then she turns. And that's it.