#also please do not be an asshole and put your opinion on how much you hate p-shifting on here. Doesn't help and you'll just be blocked 🤠

[mountain-lion-gremlin]

i'm just wondering how real p-shifting is. i really want to be able to do it, but i don't know if it's something that's real, feasible and worth my time working towards, or if it's not.

i guess something that would help is some sort of proof that it's been done before. if it genuinely has, i absolutely want to get going on my own journey.

and i'm not saying it's impossible, but i just want to learn how possible it is and if current methods lead to genuine results. thanks!

OH OKAY, let me help you a bit fellow anon.

Honestly im not sure how exactly to affirm if it's real or not. I've had evidence such as growing fur strands, half shifting in my sleep, and even learning recently that when I was very little I had p-shifted before. That's just me, I've been a shifter for a long time and eventually came to this through WAY TOO MUCH exploring and asking myself hard questions.

Usually though, the best thing I can tell any curious individual is to just... go through the very first step of being a shifter. Its incredibly helpful, and will answer the majority of present questions at the beginning stage. If you want more details on this I will gladly do a follow-up, but currently I still have to collect and get my facts straight about this first step. More developed guides (such as phenexus weyr and even blaze's guide to shifting) will be much more helpful then what i have to say. Perhaps I'll have a guide to give one day too after all of this 💀

I can tell you though to just go for it. Not start p-shifting i mean, you wont be able to do so for a long time if you eventually figure out you are a p-shifter. Its better to know by exploring instead of just never trying because you are afraid of it not being real.

P-shifting is only a tiny part of being a shifter (as I've said over and over again lol) but similar to theirans our identities live on within us our whole lives. It's just keeping a healthy balance of understanding where you are at and that, usually, you might not be a p-shifter at all and that's OKAY.

Sorry I like talking. Perhaps that could help you a bit if you decide to begin your journey.

REGARDLESS.

i would honestly also love good evidence (images, videos, etc.) of p-shifting actually happening because of the methods that exist. (Disclaimer methods aren't "rituals" that are 100% guaranteed to give you results, they are only building blocks to help you develop your own style when you decide to voluntarily shift)

Ive had to realize that 1.) There is a whole community around it, from all walks of life and information, which gathered to give us the information we have today because they all experienced similar things too. 2.) time and time again there have been stories, from history all the way to now, where people have shifted into creatures and animals constantly. 3.) In truth you find your own evidence eventually, within yourself weirdly enough.

I can't speak for everyone (hell naw) but for me I eventually came to a point where i no longer needed to see from others that p-shifting was real, I knew it was real through my own evidence and experiences. Shifting involves a lot about connecting the dots tbh, sometimes it can take a hot minute to make the right dots connect.

If there is physical evidence out there, nowadays it's so incredibly targeted and never given a chance to believe. Like, honestly, tech is so good nowadays there is no way actual physical evidence could exist within the community anymore.

What im basically trying to say is that although physical evidence can help, at the end of the day you have to find it within yourself to see as true. Nobody can really convince you to believe otherwise 🤷

Thank you for sending the anon, and if you read this and want any more help or expansion on anything, please let me know and I'll be happy to expand. I'll probably stick around for a little longer to answer anything else anyone may want to ask.

#as always others who are also p-shifters are welcome to also help/expand on what I have said. #It's honestly so important to have more than one person telling you information ✨️ #p-shift #physical shifting community #physical shifter #physical shifters #physical shifting #physicalshiftingcommunity #real werewolves #proudphysicalshifters #proudphysicalshifter #mountain lion.txt #real supernaturals #p shifters #p shift #p shifter #also please do not be an asshole and put your opinion on how much you hate p-shifting on here. Doesn't help and you'll just be blocked 🤠 #im looking for people to give advice and help not be hatersss

[kairiscorner]

he is me and i am him (also i updated my masterlist, i put a jjk section !!)

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

he's so sorry he made you cry... kinda. – teen!satoru gojo x reader

summary: he was never a nice guy, you knew that, but even so... he does have a heart, a literal anatomical one; he's just never shown you how much you make it beat like crazy. pairing: teen!satoru gojo x reader genre: lil' bit of angst and a whole lot of comfort and fluff 🫶🫶🫶

satoru gojo is a little shit. well, a head and a half taller than you piece of shit, but who cares? you do, a little bit, but the fact he's so much taller than you isn't what bothered you—it's the fact that he effortlessly makes you feel shitty about yourself.

satoru gojo was the worst guy you ever met, and you've met all kinds of douchebags in your life—but he definitely takes the cake. he's insensitive, crass, lazy... he's everything you hate in a person. you had no idea how anybody could like him. the only reason you hang around him is because you're friends with shoko and geto, no other reason. you'd kick him out if you could, but you didn't wanna hurt the two of them so you just... had to bear him and his shitty attitude.

satoru gojo was so boisterous, he always filled the silence with his stupid jokes and gags that you were surprised anyone would laugh at. he was so noisy... it was like he wanted his voice to be remembered by everyone, especially you.

satoru gojo doesn't know when enough is enough when it comes to you, he assumes that your angry, annoyed face is a face you make when he's doing a good job at riling you up–and it is, but he's yet to understand just how mean he can really be towards you. he thinks that a lot of his jokes towards you always come across the way he wants them to; they're just harmless little jabs at you, no biggie... until he jabs you a little too hard that tears start falling from the corner of your eyes.

satoru gojo knows nothing, nothing, about comforting people when they're crying–he's unsure why you're even crying in the first place. if he wanted to make you cry, he'd've done much worse than just poke some fun at you and tease you for a few of your shortcomings, but he never meant to make you cry. he teased you that you were a crybaby, a sensitive little cutie that gets pissed about everything. turns out, he was partially right, you were indeed expressive with your emotions, but only when they reach the boiling point, and you just... can't take his bullshit anymore.

satoru gojo had never seen you so vulnerable before; he had always thought you were the type to not get so affected by some guy's unsolicited opinion, but he wasn't just some guy to you... he was satoru gojo for crying out loud; and you didn't care if he was some hotshot sorcerer or womanizer or anybody else important or well-known or liked–he was an asshole, he... he shouldn't have affected you this much. you weren't angry at him, at least not anymore, you were more angry at yourself for letting his words get to you.

satoru gojo felt awkward and a bit unsure of what to do as he watched you cry, with you trying your hardest to wipe your tears away amidst you sobbing a whole new batch of tears. it was like his words had cut so deep into your heart that you forgot how to close the faucet of your tears. you were so mad... how could a jerk like him get to you that well?

satoru gojo would've left you right then and there for you to deal with the aftermath of his overstepping, like hell did he want an earful from shoko and geto from his idiocy and insensitivity again, but there was just something about your pathetic little self that gojo felt compelled to deal with, to... console.

satoru gojo hates this feeling, he hates feeling responsible for feelings that aren't even his. you would think that for a guy who gets a lot of praise from people for his looks and abilities, he'd know how to deal with them and get them off his back–but he doesn't. he sighs as he looks away from you, his brows furrowed together in agitation as he tries to settle with himself that he shouldn't stay, he shouldn't try comforting you when he doesn't even have the faintest idea on how to even start.

satoru gojo sighs and groans loudly as he crouches to level with you, rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to collect his thoughts. "oi, crybaby, look at me." he said to you in a snappy voice as you looked up at him with angry eyes, your vision being blurred as the tears obscured your sight. if your goal was to make gojo feel bad, well you were doing a semi-bad job; he doesn't yield to anybody's tears, or at least, he didn't until he became the reason you cried for the first time.

satoru gojo sighed again as he took off his sunglasses, wanting to face you fully, show you he isn't kidding around. you looked away from him again as you buried your face in your palms, your muffled sobs getting louder as gojo approached you. "c'mon now, crybaby... y'know i didn't really wanna make you weep–crying doesn't look good on you." he muttered as he gently grabbed your wrists and pulled them away from your face, seeing your eyes dripping with tears and your nostrils wet with snot.

satoru gojo chuckled as he saw your usually prim and proper face being all disheveled and wet, to believe he was the first guy in a long while to make you sob isn't that unbelievable–and though he felt a small pang in his chest that urged him to cheer you up, he kinda found this other side of you as... kinda adorable.

satoru gojo gently wiped your tears away with the pads of his thumbs, chuckling lowly as he did; muttering how swollen your eyes look now, how they–despite him saying that crying didn't suit you–you looked really pretty with this more somber look on your face. "for a crybaby, you sure look kinda pretty after sobbing. it's pathetic, sure, but... kinda hot as well." he said in a hushed voice that was laced with mischief as he stuck his tongue out at you as you looked at him all angrily, as if you were about to hit him for what he said.

satoru gojo laughed loudly when you said you weren't a crybaby, you just... you just felt a little vulnerable. "yeah, yeah, say what you want to feel better, crybaby. and, so i can see you smile that impish little grin again..." he uttered as he leaned closer to you–his aquamarine blue eyes locking with your own as he stared into the pretty hue of your irises–and says with a wide smirk on his face: "i'm sorry..." and he blows a raspberry at your face and chuckles. "kinda." he ends as he pulls away from you, pinching your cheek all the while. he dons on his sunglasses as he pinches your cheeks again, noticing how bite-able they are. some things just never change, do they? well, at least you heard the satoru gojo speak an apology, even if it was fake, or semi-fake.

#satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x y/n #satoru gojo imagines #satoru gojo fluff #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jjk fluff #jjk imagines #jjk season 2 #jujutsu kaisen season 2

[vengeful-velvette]

Hey stranger!

So a couple of days ago you asked what my list would be for least to most brattiest hazbin characters would look like, and i’m incredibly curious as to what your list would be!

This concept is really fun to me omg I really want your opinion on this 🤔

Hey random stranger who I have never met before! Fancy seeing you in my little ask box.

Here are my own thoughts regarding the tier list, also ranked from least to most to build tension:

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- Charlie: I'm glad we both agree that Charlie is at the bottom of this list lol. She's just too sweet! I feel like she doesn't even think to brat either, like she thinks "we're both enjoying this, why would I tell you to stop or not listen to you when I want to?"

I also feel like Charlie really enjoys sweet sex, like she just doesn't understand how someone can enjoy being called derogatory names during sex. She probably also says "I love you" during sex and wants to hold your hand.

At the absolute worst, she'll get embarrassed (especially when you two are first dating) and put her hands over face to hide from your sweet words.

Though, I do think that she has a hidden animalistic side to her (did you see in in the finale? 😳 I'm a dom, but oh, that got to me), that I bet that even she's unaware of. I imagine that she finds this out about herself when you two are play fighting in bed and wrestling each other around. You're able to pin her to bed and as you tease her; "Not so powerful now, are you princess?" She can't help her eyes from going red as she snarls at you.

Which of course shatters all playful energy as you reinsure her that you weren't scared - you actually found it really hot. (Also, fun fact, but as much as I go crazy about Velvette, Charlie is actually my favorite Hazbin character. Idk, she's just so cheerful, hopeful, apologetic, and nice in a show filled with loveable assholes that I couldn't help but get attached. I love her, she's my baby girl.)

- Sir Pentious: I'm glad I'm not the only one who doesn't see him as the least bratty character ever, lol. He's just so precious! I imagine him as being extremely shy in bed and extremely reactive. Even the most chaste kiss can embarrass him.

I also think he isn't used to hearing compliments since he's visually very more animal-like than most sinners, so some people are little put off by his appearance. So hearing you call him your "pretty boy" and "darling snake" has him flushing and squirming.

I also doubt that he could handle any mean words. It just absolutely kills his confidence. Though I do think he will find some embarrassing enjoyment in being teased, I think that it could never cross into actual mean words. He absolutely loves to please, though, and it's honestly really cute seeing him try to pleasure you even though he doesn't really know how to. What he lacks in skill, he definitely makes up in enthusiasm, though.

- Vaggie: Man, three in a roll that's exactly the same, lol. But I totally agree with you, I don't think Vaggie is much of a brat. I think she also doesn't like not pleasuring her partner (because my girl has self worth issues), so I feel like if you told her to lie down and relax while you pleasure her, it wouldn't take long before she's trying to touch you and get you off too.

That's really the only way I can see her "bratting", and I bet that after awhile with you proving to her that you want to please her, that it brings you pleasure, she eventually relaxes.

- Lucifer: I know you put him up higher, but to me, Luci would never not crumble immediately in bed. This man has a praise kink a mile long and loves to hear you call him your "good boy". Though, there's a reason he's placed here and not all the way at the bottom.

While I do think that the first few times (or, more accurately, first 50 times) he's a blushing mess who crumbles immediately, I feel like after a while he starts to gain some self confidence (and internalized the idea that he wouldn't fuck everything up with you if he messes anything up), he feels a lot more comfortable teasing you back and bratting.

I still think it's laughably easy to get him to crumble, but an attempt is still made!

- Rosie: I know you said you didn't know where to put Roise, but I do! Gosh, I love Roise so much. Every single one of her lines is my favorite. I ultimately find her to be a rather sweet character, hence why she's pretty low on the list, but I still think she has a bite to her that can make her seem brat adjacent.

Like, if you're up for it, she will totally bite you until you don't have a single unmarked bit of flesh.

- Cherri Bomb: Now we're getting into "slightly a brat but can turn it down" territory. I definitely think that Cherri has some spark in her, but I also think that it wouldn't take much to flip her over and make her show her stomach. She's kinda explosive in that way, in the sense that she's hot and quick in the beginning, a bit very quickly flizzes out.

I also think that she's not really used to pleasure? It's implied in the Addict music video that she used to have a lover, but based on her facial expressions, I don't think she really likes him all that much? Or it's complicated, at least. But judging purely by his looks and the fact the two still aren't together, I'm assuming that he wasn't that great of a partner and Cherri isn't used to getting more pleasure than she gives.

- Husk: I think he's actually a bit of a brat. You've seen him bristle whenever someone pets him in the show, I think he's kinda predisposed to ruffling up when you call him your "pretty little kitty" or pet him (even though he really likes being your pretty little kitty). I feel like he's prone to get embarrassed very easily, and this means he can be quite bratty when you lay on the compliments a little thick.

I do think that Husk would get a little off on the humiliation aspect, but it takes him a bit to really accept this fact about himself that bratting to you is easier.

I agree that he's probably used to pleasing his partner during sex, so that probably adds to his brat score as he tries to wrestle control away from you to make you feel good, too. Though, after a while, I think Husk realizes that he feels truly comfortable with you taking care of him (while calling him your pretty kitty) and won't brat as much.

- Alastor: since Alastor is canonical asexual, and I like to include this fact, I don't think he gets the same out of sex as non-asexual characters do. What I mean by this is that he isn't so interested in the physical sexual experience, but how sex can lead to many situations he isn't familiar with. I do think he finds those situations entertaining and thus finds enjoyment in them.

For example, in @/prince-liest fic Station 66.6, Now Playing: The Irreversible Ruination of Your Self-Respect (that I think everyone should read, really it's so good), introduced me to the concept of Alastor really like prey/predator play because he has some deer instincts in him. I really, really, really love that idea!

I think Alastor likes experiences like that, ones he isn't accustomed to. Especially when he you mix that with sex, something he usually has no interest in, but adds a neat layer to the whole thing.

Because of this, I also think he's somewhat of a brat. Mainly, he really wants to see what you will do to him if he says "no", will you force him? How will you force someone like him to do something he "doesn't" want to? I can see him as a sub who likes to make their dom work to get their submission, as it feeds into his massive ego.

- Velvette: she's so used to barking orders all day long that it can be hard to turn that aspect of her "off". So she can be quite bossy during sex. She doesn't really understand that you want to take it nice and slow tonight and will start demanding that you hurry it up as you eat her out.

She thinks she knows best, so she isn't shy in voicing her opinion when she thinks you're doing something too "slow" or "softly" or you're being a "tease". She absolutely hates being called a brat, too, and huffs and puffs and pouts when you call her one.

- Vox: I'm glad we can both agree that he's extremely bratty, lol. He definitely has this image in his head that he's some big shot dom, and probably doesn't even realize he's a sub until he meets you and you take him apart bit by bit. The only reason why I haven't placed him higher is because of how fast he crumbles when you have him underneath you. I wouldn't go into too much detail because I think you already nailed how Vox can turn into a dom, to a brat, to a squirming sub.

- Lute: I know you don't see her as a brat, but I definitely do. I see her as someone who can be pretty bossy in bed. I can also see her as someone who loves being "forced" into submission. She's a fighter! She wants to wrestle into you pin her to the bed and force your fingers into her cunt before shoving your fingers into her mouth to make her "taste her desperation".

I also thinks that she gets really embarrassed by sweet words, and thinks that you're just teasing her when you say she's your "adorable little angel", and thus isn't afraid to bite back at your words.

- Adam: I'm glad he's at the top of both of our lists lol. Yeah he's a terrible brat, and he doesn't really have the excuse of "wants to please you too" or "wants to be forced into submission" like other characters. He's just a brat! He wants all the pleasure for himself, and he wants it right now! I feel like the biggest struggle is actually getting him to try and please you. (Maybe you even have to lock him up in a cock cage to get him to behave - woah who said that?)

------------

Sorry, this is kinda half "tier rank of least to most bratty characters" and half "random smut headcanons I have". Also some of these characters got wayyyyy longer parts because I have!!! Lots of Thoughts!!! About them!!!

Anyway, I hope you like my tier list!!

#hazbin #hazbin hotel #hazbin smut #my post #my smut #oh shot i forgot Emily #i love Emily #she'll probably be around the Sir Pentious area

[writingsfromhome]

Dos and Don’ts III

A/N: firstly apologies for the wait and secondly I absolutely did not want to cut this into another part but here we are 😢 I think this will change some ppls opinions oops dont hate me

Part 1 / 2 / 3 / 4

——————————————————

I couldn’t put my finger on it but something was off in my life; I felt disconnected from myself, my friends, and most importantly from Gray. But getting Gray to communicate when he didn’t want to could feel like pulling teeth. And I was no dentist.

I figured the solution was to stubbornly throw myself into work. After all, with Harry’s European tour starting March there was always a lot to do.

“Nice of you to get here so early,” Harry says as I step off the elevators just before 9–an hour later than I usually do.

“I had dry cleaning to pick up,” I ignore his sarcasm. “Your tour fits aren’t going to magically appear in the penthouse as nice as that would be for me.”

I keep my tone light, joking, but it’s passive just as he is. And he can’t call passive out.

That’s what working for Harry has been like since December. It was winter outside these walls and inside.

I had originally decided to let it all go after sitting with the party’s events that weekend but upon arriving to work Harry had been particular asshole-ish and I decided two could play at the game. It was like the holiday party never happened. And I was okay with that.

“If they did, I wouldn’t need you would I?” Harry takes on the same tone I do.

Asshole, “yeah, how nice would that be.”

I walk away to his closet to hang up the garment bags.

“You still have two fits that need final fitting. For today, you’ve got a 2pm for your ear plugs and monitors,” I say as I walk back into the main living space. I take in Harry in his bathrobe and bedhead and realize he must be hungover. Which meant extra grumpy. “Also a meeting before noon with Jeff—he’s sick so he’ll do a Zoom. And rehearsals start tomorrow at 8am.”

The long-awaited tour he was rehearsing for was 2 months long and with his tour manager joining him I’d be kind of redundant. We agreed I’d start the tour with him, and then end it as he came back to the UK but I’d take a break in between.

“Good,” Harry sits on a barstool and as the robe parts I hoped he was wearing something underneath. “Are you joining rehearsals?”

“Tomorrow yeah,” I instinctively start tidying the coffee table littered with Harry’s activities from last night. There’s empty bottles and unused rolling papers, takeout containers and unopened bottles.

“Can you stop that,” Harry snaps. He’s wincing when I look up. “The clinking—it’s too loud.”

His second statement comes out softer but it doesn’t make him any less irritating.

“I’ll just toss these ones,” I take the ones I’d gathered in my hand.

“So,” he carries on with the earlier conversation. “Just tomorrow yeah?”

“Yep, to make sure everyone’s there, forms are signed, and all that. Jeff will drop by too. Otherwise I’ll just be there once a week or so since I have other things to complete.”

“So you’ll enjoy the full glory of the show once it’s live on stage?”

“I guess.”

“Please y/n reign in the excitement, it’s just too much.” Harry flexes his sarcasm again.

I look up from the other side of the island and lock eyes with him. With one bottle still in my hand I don’t put it in gently, instead letting it drop onto the others in the bin. His face twists in pain and I get my hit of satisfaction.

“I am excited,” I continue. “I’ll be more excited when you get on tour but right now I’m buried under an insane amount of logistics and stuff. So I’m just pacing myself.”

“Glad you got that out of your system,” he slides off the stool. “Are you sure you want to join tour? It takes a toll.”

“What? Am I taking up the space you reserved for groupies?” I goad.

He pretends to think, “No…we’ve got a whole other bus for that.”

“Great,” I smile. “Then I’ll definitely be there for the start of your tour, cheering you on.”

“Not too hard though,” Harry grabs a water from the fridge and heads towards the bedrooms. “Can’t have all of y/n’s enthusiasm overshadowing my fans.”

I roll my eyes behind his back and choose not to respond, as tempting as it was.

By the end of the week I’ve met everyone that’ll be joining the tour, taken copies of a million contracts and filed a billion papers.

It’s Saturday night and we’re heading home from the studio. Harry, in a twist of kindness, offers to drop me home.

“You don’t live too far,” he comments as we get closer to my building.

“Yeah, I was surprised with that.” It was a stroke of luck having a short commute.

“How does Mr. Duran feel about you coming on tour?”

I throw him a look but he sits there smug, waiting. “Well he’s not keen on me being away from home for so long but otherwise he’s fine.”

“Is he?” Harry extends his knee to nudge mine, irritating me. Just a few more minutes.

“Yes.” I turn to look out the window, no longer interested in the conversation. In reality Gray had been pretty upset that I’d be travelling the continent with womanizer Harry Styles. I’d soothed his fears but he was hard-headed about it.

Originally I’d saved the conversation to be had after New Year’s to not ruin the holidays but Josie had brought up tickets for the tour during Christmas dinner and although I played it off then, he’d been in a mood since.

“You’re an awful liar,” Harry says. I don’t respond. Luckily I’m home.

I figured Sunday, on my day off, Gray and I could catch up and spend quality time together. Maybe iron out some of our kinks. But he tells me he had a few sessions and I’m left alone for most of the day, convinced Gray booked them on purpose but not wanting to admit what that meant.

The following Thursday night, Gray and I finally collide after I’d spent the week stewing in my anger and anxieties.

“Why won’t you just talk to me? I feel like I’m living with a stranger these days.” The conversation starts out semi-tamed as we wash up for dinner.

“You feel that way? Well I’ve seen my fiancée for less than 48 hours a week this last year. Talk about being a stranger.”

“I’ve been taking more time off,” I wonder when he decided to count the number of hours. But it was true—I’d started doing a half-days on most Saturdays and coming home earlier on week nights. Like tonight, I’d been home by half past 6. “I’ve been trying to spend more time at home.”

“Too little too late,” Gray mutters.

“What?”

“I just mean,” he sighs. “I…y/n, we barely get time together. We’re like flatmates these days aren’t we? We haven’t-“

“Don’t you dare Gray,” I wasn’t having this. I refused to hear what he was trying to get at.

“Y/n don’t be difficult-“

“Difficult!? You can’t go radio silent on me and then decide 3 years can just go down the drain.”

“I’m not saying that-“

“Then what are you saying!?”

The silence rings to the corners of our kitchen. The dishes are long forgotten, suds drip down my elbow and onto the floor, and Gray’s towel hangs like a white flag beside him.

“You knew what this job meant—you work with the same clientele, and you encouraged me to go for it. I’m trying to be better I don’t get it.” I finally say.

“I’m saying something needs to change.”

What takes me back the most is the even—even apathetic, tone. It’s the fact that he must have been thinking on this for long enough to be so level-headed about it.

Who has he talked to, I wonder. His sister? Our friends? Who’s advised him to go in this direction because the Grayson I know wouldn’t do me like this. Couldn’t.

Are you even the y/n Grayson knows, a small voice asks in my head.

“We’ve changed, I get it.” My tone takes a pleading ring to it and I hate it. “But you can’t just decide this isn’t worth fighting for Gray-“

“I’m not Y/n,” he puts the towel to the side and grabs my arms. “I’m not throwing anything away but we need to bloody figure something out because…I’m unhappy. And can you really say our relationship is the same? Can you call what we’re in a relationship?”

“Why not?” I whisper, tears choking me. “I thought we love each other and we support each other and-and we see each other through thick and thin.”

“I love you,” Gray squeezes. “And I know we’ve seen each other through thick and thin but…I don’t know if I can keep supporting you at the expense of us.”

“Well what do you want?” I look up into his brown eyes. They’re steady like they usually were.

“I want you, selfishly. I want all of you.”

He had what he wanted, didn’t he get that? He had me. I don’t know what more of me I could give him. And that thought tears me right through.

“What happened to setting a date?” Gray steps back and takes his steady grip with him. I sink into the countertop behind me. “What happened to planning for our future? Marriage and kids and buying a home and doing something more?”

His voice raises as he talks.

“I feel like I’ve been living in limbo for the last year! Just waiting around for you. I don’t know how much longer I can wait-“

“We can set a date,” I say. “We can do all that! You-you haven’t brought up any of it either! If it’s been weighing on your mind why don’t you ever just say something!?”

“I shouldn’t have to!”

I’d hit a nerve. We’d had this conversation a dozen times.

“Of course you do! Like, I’m not a mind reader you’ve been stewing in these feelings for god knows how long and now you’re telling me you’re thinking of-of-of ending things!?”

There, I’d said it.

His face contorts into a flurry of emotions. My body feels ragged just saying these things out loud.

“When I spoke to Stewart and Bex they said-“

“Stewart and…” I was right he’s been talking. “You were talking to Stew and Bex!? Since when did you spend time with Bex?”

“Since I had a lot of time alone at home.”

Fuck, he managed to get the upper hand all the time with that one valid point he had.

“They both agreed with me that this isn’t right. I’m allowed to be upset and ask you for something to change-“

“But why didn’t you talk to me!” The switch to anger is quick when he admits he was talking to our friends. I think about the last few times we saw them—had they been judging me? Had Gray told them by then?

Gray tries to brush past and tell me more about his validated feelings, about how things had changed. I can’t hear anymore.

“This decision you seem to want to make for both of us should involve me too and yet you make it the talk of the town before consulting me. I’m so goddamn tired of the way you shut down Gray I-“

“I’m tired!” He butts in. “I’m tired of watching things change and being forced to move past it.”

I stare at him. He’s not bending whatsoever. He’s not even understanding the frustration at being the last to know his feelings on our fucking relationship. Didn’t he understand how iced out that made me feel? When I’ve been trying to be as mindful as I can?

“You know what Gray,” I sneer. “You talk about us changing but did you ever think that we’ve been changing since we first met!? The only thing that’s different now is we stopped talking!”

I throw the rest of the dishes into the soapy water and storm out to the only safe haven I had right now—our bed.

Everyone wanted parts of me I couldn’t give and I felt torn to shreds! I hardly recognized the girl in the mirror, I hardly remembered what it felt like to be me.

The only time I felt centered, a bit of calm, was here. With Gray.

And now I knew the feelings weren’t mutual. He’d been thinking of ending things while I had curled in his arms. While I had kissed him goodnight and hello. While we had dinner or drinks. While we hung out with friends who were privy to all the cracks in our relationship. Who knows how long it had been a one-sided feeling.

I bury my head into my pillow wanting to scream and cry at the same time. My head hurts but mostly my heart hurts. I feel betrayed by my bestest friend and the person I love the most.

You’re no better, the ugly voice in my head shows up again. You’ve done things you should be ashamed of.

I block the voice out. I block it all out until all I feel is numb.

Gray doesn’t come to bed at all that night. I drag myself out of the nest I’d created some time around midnight, thinking he fell asleep on the sofa. To tell him to come to bed since I knew our sofa wasn’t long enough for him to even fit on.

I sway in the middle of the empty living room. There’s nobody here. Definitely not Gray. He’d left altogether, to wherever he’s been finding refuge recently.

It hits me; I think I’ve done this to myself. I was alone. Really alone.

***

The scowl is permanently etched onto my face as I go about my Friday morning. I feel Harry’s eyes on me a few times but even he doesn’t broach the subject. We silently maneuver around each other until he leaves for rehearsal.

I think about calling my friends to talk about this but I realize all my friends who were up to date on my life had become interwoven with Gray’s. And I already know Gray complained about my job to them based on a few parties last year. So they definitely wouldn’t be unbiased listening to anything I said.

I regret then, not staying in touch more with my friends back home. For the first time in years I feel a bit homesick.

I decide busying myself with work would be the only thing to keep me sane so I throw on headphones and get down to business.

As the day starts to come to an end I put on Harry’s stereo with the mournful songs that had been comforting me today and grab a seltzer from the fridge. He wouldn’t be home until 8 tonight and he’s always been open about using whatever was in the general living spaces.

So I nearly have a heart attack when I see a shadow from the corner of my eyes around 6.

I give a shout when it comes with a voice and once my senses return I realize it’s just a sweaty Harry back early from rehearsal.

“What? Are you doing here!?” I press on my pounding heart. “Alexa music off.”

He’s grinning at the way I reacted and now he laughs, it’s a bending-over laugh and I chuckle myself as I replay how dramatic it all was.

“Wow.” He says when he finally catches his breath. “I wish I had that on video.”

“Jesus,” I swear. “I thought you’d be home a lot later.”

“So this is what happens when I’m not home,” he teases.

“Only on Fridays,” I collapse into the closest chair and tilt my head back. “God, I thought there was like, an intruder or something. Or a ghost.”

He laughs again, moving to the kitchen for a water. “Good thing ghosts don’t exist.”

“They so do.” I reply.

“There’s no proof that’s ever convinced me they exist.”

“You live a sad skeptical life Mr. Styles.” My breathing is finally regulated and I sit up to look at him. “I’ve seen one myself when I was a teen. I wish I could be a disbeliever like you.”

“You’ll have to tell me the story,” he leans on the island looking very amused.

“I will,” I accept his challenge.

“I cut rehearsals short,” he continues. “I’m knackered from this week. I just want to be one with my couch and get drunk and not worry about what moves to do and what song to sing.”

“Yeah,” he looked tired and his hair was getting a bit shaggy. He runs his hand through the damp curls. “I need a shower and I think I should do a trim.”

“Consider it booked,” I pull the phone towards me and text his usual stylist. I hear him move around the space and pause before he disappears down the hall.

“Are you heading home soon?” He asks.

“Hm?” I kill time responding, acting like I didn’t hear his response. I didn’t want to go home at all. I didn’t even know if Gray was home or not and I didn’t want to find out. Harry repeats his question. “No. I wanted to wrap up some things. I can move to the office if you wanted the space to chill out?”

He shrugs and tells me I could go where I want.

I wanted to be out of the way, and not home. So I move to the office. The same office where weeks ago I’d teetered on the edge of a fatal decision and now was faced with the possibility of that decision made for me.

I slump in the seat and take a moment to just decompress. A headache creeps around my eyes and I just feel lost and hurt and alone.

When I break the laptop open again I move like a slug, scraping the barrel of effort and coming up with nil.

“Uh y/n?” Harry’s head pops into the door a while later.

“Yeah?” I blink up at him, still in slug mode.

He stares at me a second, “Do you have plans tonight? You could…join me in doing nothing?”

When was the last time I did nothing? I couldn’t remember. And it sounded like a distraction—not a good one, but one that helped me avoid home for longer.

“Sure?” I respond.

Harry blinks. “Oh. Brilliant. Finish what you’re doing if you’d like or you can join me now. Oh. Could you also order us some pizza or something that’s greasy and bad for us?”

I liked the direction of this. I feel my sluggish feeling slide away. “I can do that.”

“Good. Great. This is going to be a good night.”

He moves away as he talks and his last sentence is shouted from down the hall. I smile, relieved to do something like this.

I consider texting Gray, but decide against it. He left last night without a word, making me worried and today there’s been radio silence. I wasn’t in the mood to take the high road.

I do as Harry asks. Meanwhile Harry had put on some peppier music and brought out a six-pack from the fridge. His head is buried in the pantry rummaging through.

“What do you need?” I come up behind him.

“Oh,” he pops out. “Looking for some sweets. I’m sure I have some somewhere.”

“Oh yeah!” I close the doors he’s looking in and open the top cabinet. His eyes light up when he spots the options. “Food’s on its way by the way.”

He rubs his hands and starts pulling things off the pantry. It’s a different energy than any before, he’s not picking on me or ordering me around. He’s just inviting me to be on the ins with him. My instinct is to stay quiet and see where it goes but I shake it off.

“Are we just playing with beer tonight or is wine on the menu?” I ask. I hated the taste of beer.

“It could?” He unloads the pile in his arms onto the island and starts rummaging through the wines. “How about this one?”

A white. I take it from him and head for some glasses.

We end up making a buffet for ourselves on the coffee table and when the pizza comes we settle in, chatting occasionally about the things around us.

“So what does doing nothing involve?” I ask when we’re situated on the couch. Harry’s left a few feet of space between us which is very appreciated. I pull my feet up. “Because I have to say it’s been a while and I don’t know how to do nothing.”

He laughs, throwing his head back. I find myself grinning in response.

“Touché mon amie.”

“Okay I actually got that,” I nod.

“Do you speak french?” He asks as he opens the wine and pours us both a glass, mine’s a lot more full than his.

“No but I spent a month in Paris when I was in uni,” I savour the sour flavours of the wine as it coats my mouth and settles me down. “So I learned the bare minimum. Now all I can say is bonjour, ca beigne? And also un verre du vin s’il vous plait?”

“So you cut right to the chase—hey are you alright? A glass of wine thanks. Now leave me alone.”

We laugh and I hold up my glass, “I was hoping you’d get the hint. Why is mine so full anyway?”

“I’m just drinking some so you don’t have to drink it alone. Then I’m gonna crack on with the beer.”

“Oh!” There he had to go and be thoughtful again. “Forget it, I will happily drink the bottle. Drink whatever you want.”

“Yeah?” He leans forward to put his glass down.

I lean over and pour his measly amount into mine. “There, you’ve done the sharing part.”

“So y/n,” he asks after we’ve grabbed our respective snacks of choice. “Can I ask why you were listening to all those ballads before I came in?”

“I need to get a bit more drunk before I do that,” I down some more wine, already feeling the buzz of it. Obviously this was not the cheap wine I generally had.

“Alright we’ll get you there,” he promises. His eyes flicker from his phone to me and back to his phone. “Uhh could I show you something?”

“Like what?”

“We’re releasing the MV for one of my songs a week before I go on tour right.”

“Right,” I name the single that’s been thrown around countless times this week.

“I got back the deck for what it’ll look like. I’m excited can I show it to you?”

It’s endearing, in a way, how eager he is to show it. His cheeks even have spots of pink.

“Uh yeah! Let’s see it!”

“Cool,” he grins. He turns on the TV and casts whatever video is on his phone to the screen. He gives me some background on how it was setting up a whole storyline and how they’ve already started filming some of the scenes.

“The shooting starts the week after this one right?”

“Yeah, I’ll be in Scotland for a few days. You’re joining me right?”

“Yes! I’m excited to see all the action myself.” I had signed up for the 4-day trip with zero hesitation. As someone who’s always been making up stories and concepts to most music I listened to, getting to see the bts for an MV was a dream come true.

“Really?” He asks.

“Yeah, it’s real excitement I promise.”

“You’re interested in it?”

“Yeah! I love music videos, it creates a whole new experience for a song we’ve probably listened to on repeat. It’s cool!”

“So this is y/n really enthusiastic,” he leans back in the cushions to get me in full. “Now I really know you couldn’t give a rat’s arse about tour.”

“Stop saying that!” I laugh. “I was just stressed. I am excited about all of it okay?”

“So you say,” with a final glance he presses play and I’m entranced as the narration takes us through the plan.

“Umm all I can say is wow.” I turn to him when it’s done. My wine glass had been emptied and my brain had been itched with the most beautiful location and storytelling I’ve seen in a while. “That’s like a mini movie.”

“That’s what I said!” He exclaims. “It’s going to blow everything out of the water.”

“Look at us, doing nothing.” I realize we’d turned around and talked about work.

“Bollocks we’re no good at this.” Harry slides a hand down his face and I laugh at the dramatics. “Let me refill you at least.”

I happily oblige.

We talk about the mv some more, and move onto the tour. Harry asks me about the concerts I’ve been to and we get the kind of excited when you’re tipsy once we find out we were both at a Coldplay concert four years ago in London.

“That would’ve been before the success so I would have been just another bloke to you,” he notes.

“Yeah, imagine we crossed paths then? That would be crazy.”

“If we did, we might still be doing this tonight, just as mates,” he points to between us. “Or you would have fallen in love with me and I would have sacrificed my music to raise our kids.”

“What!?” It’s so absurdly ridiculous that I nearly snort my wine. “Where did that comes from!?”

“Admit it,” he puffs out his chest. “That would have happened. And I’d be so committed-“

“Well you’re assuming that in a 4 year time-span we would get to the point of having kids. So firstly no, secondly who said you had to sacrifice your career?”

“I-“ he stops mid-sentence, looking into the distance.

“Exactly!” I shout. “You’ve got nothing. You’ve just made up a story that makes you sounds good and noble!”

“Fine,” he settles down. “Fine! We never meet and you end up with your Duran bloke and I end up a musician.”

“Is that all I’m reduced to?” I raise my brow. “Who I’m with?”

“No!” He leans between us to pat my leg. It tingles. “No I didn’t mean it like that. You’ll do great things. I just mean the person you end up with isn’t superstar Harry Styles.”

I roll my eyes, “I need more wine if I’m gonna be subjected to any more of this bullshit.”

“Bullshit?!”

“Mhm,” I pop a gummy into my mouth and ignore the look of shock on his face.

“Fine. Then tell me about your bullshit,” he raises his can. “What’s happening to make you so ferocious this morning.”

Oh god. I hold up a finger and shimmy forward for some more wine. I’d drank 2/3 of the bottle and I was definitely tipsy. Maybe I’ll just sip this one.

“Fine. If you want to hear it.”

“I do.”

“I got into a fight with Gray.”

He raises a brow, I continue.

“He’s upset with me and complaining that I work a lot and that he feels like I’m his flatmate!”

“Flatmate with benefits.”

“Shut up!” I groan. “Not the point.”

“Sorry!” He holds his hands up.

“I don’t think he realizes how much of my head is just Gray like, I’m always thinking about him, about what I could do for him and say to him just to make sure he feels seen and reassured and loved! You know I’ve asked you for half-days on Saturdays when you don’t have a lot going on-“

“Mhm,” he nods along.

“I’m like, making sure I’m being a good partner. And apparently he’s been upset and not saying anything.”

“The old silent on the home front.”

“Yes!” I nearly drip wine as I pump my hand. “Yes, on the home front he’s bloody broody and quiet. I knew something was on his mind but like always he’s tight lipped. Even when I asked him a week ago he said he’s just been working a lot. What a liar!”

I complain about how it felt to be iced out of my partner’s emotions and having to guess all the time.

“Then I find out he’s been talking to all our friends to get advice.” Harry raises his brows in judgement and leans back into the sofa, and the small gesture makes me feel so validated. I didn’t realize how much I needed a third-party to just listen to my side of things. Until now, I’d literally not had anyone to talk to about this especially since I avoided talking about work with Gray. I get misty eyed.

“And when we’re talking he’s like so-and-so said this as if I want to know. And!” Now I was on a roll. I put my glass down in fear of spilling it on the pristine sofa and get on my knees to emphasize my frustration. “And the girl he quoted? Get this, I met her—Rebecca—at a job I did like a year ago? And we got along fabulously and I invited her to this party we threw right because she was new to the city and all that. She met my other friends and she fit in so well they invited her the next event. I got her into the group and now she’s talking shit about me with my fiancé behind my back!”

“She’s probably got a thing for your man,” Harry suggests.

“Oh she definitely does!” I’m animated as I continue. “She so does! I’ve caught her making eyes at him before, and laughing a lot whenever he makes a joke. I even mentioned it to him once but he said he didn’t notice.”

“He probably didn’t,” Harry shrugs.

“I know, the male species is a wonder. You get big flirts like you and then otherwise they’re completely oblivious.”

“I’ll have you know when I was a teen, a girl literally gave me a valentine cupcake and I just thought—well I knew she liked to bake, so I thought she just had extras. I didn’t understand why she didn’t speak to me the rest of the year.”

“No way,” I laugh—a lot because the wine was definitely sloshing around in my head, but also I couldn’t imagine Harry being that aloof. “I guess it comes with the ego territory. Were you less of a jerk as a kid?”

His jaw drops. “You just called me a jerk right now. To my face.”

“I did,” I say with glee. I stand to get the full picture of an offended Harry. “And I don’t regret it. So? Were you nicer as a kid?”

“No I’m not answering until you take that back.”

“What! You are a jerk…sometimes! I’m not taking it back!”

“You have to take it back otherwise I will cut you off on the wine.”

I take a step back and stumble as he speaks. Which makes me laugh more. “I think I should cut back. I am a hot mess.”

“At least you’re laughing,” Harry stands too. “It’s world’s different from this morning.”

Just like telling someone not to think of an elephant, I think of the elephant.

“Noo no don’t do that!” Harry rushes towards me and bends down to look me in the eye. “I liked it when you were smiling just now c’mon.”

“Well you reminded me why I was so upset-“

“Can’t stay grumpy, just give me another smile. One smile! Small teeny tiny smile—there it is!”

I can’t help it with his face in mine and the way he’s putting on a voice to get me to smile my face splits in a grin.

“You’re soooo annoying!” I push him but unstable and drunk I fall backwards.

I don’t know what happens next but I’m on the floor looking up into Harry’s concerned face.

“Y/n? Y/n!?”

“Yeah,” my head pounds as I try to make sense of where I am.

“Fuck,” I hear Harry say. He moves away and the overhead light attacks my eyes so I squeeze them shut.

I hear him, panicked, on the phone.

“No!” I try to call out. “M’fine! Don’t even worry-“

“Stay down Y/N,” he’s back by my side. I try to prove to him that I’m okay and sit up but a few inches off the ground and my head feels like it’s full of bees.

“So many bees,” I murmur as I go back down, now a pillow behind my head.

A few minutes later Harry’s helping me up gently. I tell him I wanted to throw up and he helps me to the toilet where I do. Gah. Why did I drink so much.

“I think I’ll head home now,” I hear myself saying to Harry like I was miles away.

“No,” his hands are around my shoulder and holding me upright as we walk out. The lift increases my nausea but I keep my eyes shut.

“I’m going home now,” I tell Harry when we get outside.

“No you’re getting checked out.”

“No!” I shove him away and nearly topple over myself. Why did he have to boss me around all the time? “Stop telling me what to do! My head hurts I’m going home!”

He tries to grab my hand but I yank it off. “Stop! Just stop!”

“Y/n,” Harry’s voice is low and comforting as he gets down in my ear. He smells nice too. “You passed out and you have a headache we have to get you checked out.”

“You’re no fun,” I cross my arms but follow him, only because my headache is so bad. As we get in the car I close my eyes shut as the lights assault them. Harry doesn’t let me sleep on the ride home even though his body is warm and steady beside me. I barely know where I am.

Harry’s POV:

I keep telling myself she would most likely be fine, just like the doctor reassured me but it’s hard not to beat myself up.

I shouldn’t have let her get that drunk, especially upset. I shouldn’t have gotten in her space and caused her to tumble back. I should have done something else.

The guilt is added to when I think of how I spoke to the doctor, demanding they do every scan and not to skip any. I hated who I became sometimes, when I pulled the famous card, but I thought it was necessary right now. Even y/n would give me a pass for using it.

I can’t stop replaying the thud as her head hit the hardwood floor, her eyelids fluttering as I rushed to her, her slack face when she lost consciousness for a moment.

It’s been hours since we came in. The doctor finally heads my way.

“Mr. Styles, your girlfriend is alright,” he holds up his hands before I’m fully standing.

I may have had to say she was my girlfriend after they wouldn’t let me have any say tonight…

“She’ll be alright, you did the right thing getting her here right away.”

“But?”

“No but,” he smiles. “Obviously it’s serious she has a moderate concussion but if she doesn’t exasperate any symptoms—takes it easy the next couple weeks, she’ll be right as rain. We can discharge her once the neurologist confirms. She’s just finishing with another patient right now-“

“She should stay overnight,” I cut him off. His cheeriness was starting to irritate me I felt like he wasn’t taking this seriously enough.

“Oh well,” he laughs but I know I’m irritating him right back. “She will be alright. I can provide you and her with a followup plan-“

“Doctor,” I say. “She’s staying overnight. If I need to rent a bed I’ll do that, tell me what I need to do, but she should stay under observation. Get the care she deserves.”

He pursues his lips, and I wait for him to agree.

“Yep,” he sighs. “I’ll tell the nurse. Just follow me and we can sort the details.”

We do that, I even take a selfie for the nurse’s daughter which grates on the doctor’s nerves even more. He leaves shortly after.

I get y/n’s room and walk there slowly, wondering how to apologize. Ever since December we’ve been playing a game of tennis with words and tonight I felt both of us relax onto the same note. Then this.

She’s sleeping when I get to her. My watch says 1am. She looks peaceful and it hurts even more.

The truth was despite acting like I didn’t, I did like Y/N but she was complicated, and the more I tried to untangle her web the more sticky things became for both of us. I didn’t want to make more mistakes than I have in the past so I’d kept my distance. Even if it hurt both of us.

Tonight was good though. Until it wasn’t. This was why I shouldn’t blur lines. You would think I’d have learned that by now.

I step by her bed, hesitating. Someone has wiped the remains of her makeup off and she looks so much younger. Like a sleeping cherub. My heart gives a squeeze.

I push back a strand of her hair, my hand wanting to do something. I settle for taking her hand in mine, it’s not the first time I’ve held it but like it always does, a flood of warmth rushes through me.

I never understood Victorian romances until her; just touching her hand got my blood pumping.

With a stroke of my thumb over her knuckles, she stirs. I freeze.

Her eyes flicker open, “Hey?”

My voice disappears. There’s too much that I want to say and nothing I’m allowed to say. Maybe a sorry. I open my mouth but she squeezes my hand. I forgot I was still holding hers.

“So much for doing nothing huh?” She cracks a smile and it breaks the marble I’d become encased in. I laugh and collapse onto the sliver of the bed.

“We should never do nothing again.”

“Nope,” she smiles, closing her eyes again.

“Y/N I’m really sorry for tonight. I feel awful-“

Her mouth parts. She was asleep.

I want to sit here with her until she wakes again, until the doctors kick us out. Something about seeing her so vulnerable here makes me want to confess the thing that’s been lodged in my chest for a long time.

I release her hand and move away from the bed. This was dangerous. Maybe I could wait in the waiting room until she’s released. Then take her home.

Something vibrates. It’s not my phone, and then I notice the purse I’d brought with us. Y/N’s.

I peek inside for the phone and her fiancé’s face takes up the screen. He looks younger. And then I remember, it’s like stepping out of the fog this night had put me in and into reality.

I pick up.

“Y/N it’s nearly 2 in the morning just tell me you’re alright? You haven’t been answering your texts I-“

“Hi,” I clear my throat and the line goes dead silent. I decide to continue. “Hey uh this is Harry. Styles. Uhm, don’t panic or anything because she is okay but she’s in hospital and-“

“What?” He comes back with a boom. “Why is she there what happened? Which hospital?”

I tell him which one, explain she bumped her head and I had to take her here. That the doctors said she would recover and be herself again soon. He simply swears and tells me he’d be there soon.

This was Y/N’s life. This was the right thing to do. Still, I stay in the room with my head in my hands and think about the whole evening again and again.

“Just tell me the bloody room…I don’t care about the time…”

The voice travels through as doors open and close in the hall and I look out. Grayson. Like a pitbull. I can see him through the rectangular window demanding to see Y/N.

I open the swinging doors and his nostrils flare as he spots me.

“Why the hell is he allowed in and not me?” He continues his tirade. “Does hospital policy not matter when it comes to the rich and famous now? I want to see her doctor and-“

The nurse turns to me, annoyed but before she can ask the question the doctor is out.

“What’s all this? Do you know the time sir, please follow me and we can talk-“

“I don’t want to fucking follow you. I want him gone and I want to see my fiancee.”

Looks are exchanged between the doctor and the nurse, finally landing on me. I imagine what they’re thinking—just another homewrecking famous rockstar, do we tell the fiancé or act cool?

“He should be able to see her,” I say in an even tone. I can feel the eyes on me, especially the laser beams from Gray.

“I thought-“

“Okay. Visitor pass him and let him in,” the doctor cuts his nurse off as she stares at me. Maybe her daughter wouldn’t get that photo tonight after all, and instead be told to pick better role models. It doesn’t matter to me. Not tonight.

I watch Gray get sorted, watch him walk down and to Y/N’s room. To his fiancée’s room.

I wonder how he feels, fighting with her last night just for y/n to end up here tonight. I wonder if that’s why he was so vocal tonight—the guilt.

But I suspected he was the kind of man that called himself easy-going and only got this raucous when another man was threatening his public image. It was pretty clear the hospital staff thought we had some pseudo-relationship arrangement. I don’t think Duran was daft enough to miss that.

Plus, I’d been the one to bring her here not him.

With a big sigh I take my phone out to call a taxi. It was my turn to go home.

I text Y/N from the car, tell her to rest over the weekend and let me know how she feels Monday morning. She could take the whole week off if she wanted but I also knew her and knew she would try to come back asap.

I try to piece back the marble armour I wore before tonight, it’s ill-fitting and hurts to get on but I do it anyway. This was why I couldn’t be the person Y/N wanted me to be; I tried to mix parts of my life together and it would only end with shite.

Y/N’s POV:

I don’t know who this man in front of me was. Or actually, I hadn’t seen him a long time.

I’d been discharged from the hospital on Saturday morning with odd looks all around. Maybe because Harry brought me in? And ever since, Grayson has been doting on me. Doting.

“Did you want anything specific?” Gray stands at the foot of the bed, asking me what he should make me for breakfast. The last time he made me a special breakfast was…last summer?

“I wouldn’t say no to pancakes?” I reply. “I looove your chocolate chip pancakes.”

“I’ll get it started,” he walks over to kiss my temple and leaves.

The weirdest part is that I feel weird; I don’t know why but Gray doting on me like this made me feel claustrophobic and…weird!

I look out the window to the overcast sky. Same, I think. At least for a Sunday, it felt fitting.

I pick up my phone and check the last response from Harry. Since I got discharged he’d been texting me to see how I was feeling. I think he was feeling guilty even though I told him it wasn’t his fault.

I tried not to drink when I was upset because back in uni it led to some shitty situations but the other night I’d overstepped my rule and done this anyway. And paid for it. I should have known better. And after the absolute misery of yesterday’s aftermath—the migraine and the vertigo and the completely lack of appetite, I don’t think I’ll be doing that again. Ever.

Today I feel a lot better. I still have a headache and I’m looking forward to breakfast with my painkiller, but the light doesn’t hurt as much and the nausea only comes back when I do too much.

You: I’ll be back in no time. Feeling better

Harry: I want you to feel the best so I’m banning you from working until Wed. And that’s conditional on you feeling better

Y: Doc said I can resume a lowkey version of my life after 48hrs

H: I didn’t like that doc. take my advice instead

Y: when did you get your md

H: same time you got yours

Y: I have an md?

H: being stubborn 101

Y: your jokes are a lot better when you text

H: cuz you’re not distracted by my face

Y: ooookay I’m no longer giving you the platform byeee

He was sassy, apparently. I never got this side of him before.

I read through the convo again and smile. But it hits me that it sounded like flirting. And that would be incredibly inappropriate. So I shove my phone in my bedside drawer and inch out of bed to join Gray.

We spend the day talking about a lot, but not about what we should talk about. Which, with the way I was feeling, was fine by me. At the same time it felt like we were both politely playing a role neither of us could put our hearts into. It felt shitty.

Gray has a session around 4 and I crawl back into bed, putting on a romcom I’ve watched a million times for comfort.

My body feels heavy and it has nothing to do with the concussion. The last couple days and my current relationship with Gray casts a shadow over my thoughts. I felt like making any decision was like wading through quicksand and running away just sounded better.

I rub my temples, hoping like a genie’s lamp, I could get an omnipotent spirit cast out and grant me easy wishes. I’d wish for things to go back to normal, for my heart not to be such a wretched thing. For clarity.

I pick up my phone and scroll to the one person I had run away from and have missed since. I didn’t talk to her very often but I thought I could use her no-nonsense approach.

My mom frets when I tell her what had happened. She goes quiet as I tell her I’d gotten drunk to forget about the troubles in my relationship.

“Relationships go through a lot of phases. It’s like going through those cave tunnels all made of rock and you gotta squeeze really tight sometimes just to fit through and continue on.”

“That is an amazing comparison mom, but I don’t know if this is one of those times. It feels like Gray’s already given up on us.”

“Well it’s been a long time he’s waited.”

“But he never said. He never talked to me.”

She sighs. “Your Grayson sure is a contemplative son of a bitch isn’t he?”

I laugh a little too hard and feel a pulse in my head. “I know. But then today he was so dang sweet—since I got home. He was so overprotective. And he made me breakfast mom and it made me realize I haven’t had that Gray in a long time.”

She’s silent on the other end. She knew there was more. How did I ever think, as a teen, my mom didn’t understand me? I think I just never understood her.

“But it felt weird.” I continue. “I feel horrible for saying it but I felt weird!”

“Was there heart?” She asks gently.

There wasn’t.

That’s what it was. And my heart weeps. All those actions without feelings.

“Have you thought about coming home?” Mom asks when the silence stretches. She always asked and I was the worst daughter in the world for never going back. The last time was when I graduated, for 2 weeks in which my family drove me crazy and I had been crazy in love with Gray and eager to get back to him.

“Maybe,” I close my eyes and slide down into bed.

“Your brother’s new girlfriend reminds me of that friend you had where she came on our camping trip and cried the whole time? What was her name?”

“Deanna? Mom I stayed friends with her all through high school! She was just very anxious.”

“I know! His girlfriend’s always darting about, jumping at tiny things. Reminds me of her.”

“Well Jace better be treating her right.”

“He does,” mom’s voice raises. “You should see them together. It’s cute but they’re still teenaged loves so I try not to break his bubble too much.”

Mom had definitely relaxed a lot since I was a teen. She had practically chased my first boyfriend away.

“Remember your first boyfriend?” She asks and I shout how I was remembering that too. We end up talking about old memories, and I feel a little more known and a little less lonely when I hang up.

Gray and I order takeout and I try to watch a movie with him but the strain on my eyes gets too much. I tell him I was going to bed and insist that he stays and finishes. I didn’t feel like watching him play boyfriend.

I’m eager to get back to work, for next week when I can go to Scotland for the MV. The eagerness comes from guilt but I carry both as I fall asleep.

***

I feel like a kid at Disneyland. Or maybe a Disney adult. Either way, I’m blown away getting to watch this MV come to life.

It’s long hours, a lot of waiting, and some shouting. But everything else is magic.

I came back to work last Thursday and other than an ear-splitting headache on the flight and a low-grade one when I stared at a screen too long, I was on my way to normal. When I got back to work Harry kept making excuses for me so I could work from the office but I refused to be treated differently and eventually he relented.

“It’s so freaking cold!” I jump up and down beside Harry by the cliffside. He’s just wrapped up a scene and the crew was taking a look at the footage to see if they needed anything more in this spot.

“Why don’t you put on more layers? Do you want an extra coat the crew might have-“

“No!” I continue wriggling around. “I’m heading back to the car in a few. This is an amazing view.”

“Isn’t it,” Harry turns to the sea that’s churning away much like my own heart these days. It feels calming to see it physically somewhere else.

We stand in silence except for my occasional teeth chattering and stare out to the view.

“Have you seen more of it?” Harry motions to the cameras. “What do you think?”

On this trip I’ve been giving my honest opinion, and I know I’ve offended Harry at least once but I didn’t come all the way here for my dream experience only to stroke his ego.

I tell him my take. We talk about the overall storyline about belonging and sacrifice until we’re interrupted with two hands holding out hot teas.

“You both looked cold,” the woman says. She was another assistant on set and I’m not sure what to do being waited on as a PA myself.

“Oh, thank you!” I make sure she knows I appreciate it. “That’s…that’s super kind thanks!”

She throws us both a smile and I stare at my cup, the heat tingling on my cold fingertips.

“Friendship and belonging yeah,” Harry starts up again.

“Yeah but also I like how you—your character, whatever, knows when it’s time to leave for his better growth. Sacrifice with his friend and sacrifice with the only home he’s known. Plus that’s a comfortable outfit.”

I tap a button on Harry’s jumpsuit. He grins. “You can have it.”

“I would be drowning in that you’re a lot taller.”

“We can have it altered,” he says. A shiver runs through me at we. I blame it on the cold.

I sip the tea now that it’s not scalding and find it’s a lot cooler. The open air, I guess.

“So you really love all this,” Harry says. “You weren’t joking about that excitement.”

“No I told you!” I flash to the night we did “nothing” which feels long ago. “I have a vivid imagination when it comes to music and I spent any spare courses on film so now I can interpret the heck out of any song and music video like my life depends on it.”

“We should get you back there,” he motions to the crew. “Get you on board.”

“Would I get the little clipboard and clapper?”

“Yeah!”

“Goals,” I sigh.

Little did I know, by Saturday as we’re filming our final scene one of the crew members hands me the clapper. He tells me I’m supposed to cut the final scene. I stare at him, thinking I misheard.

The clapboard hangs between us. He shakes it a little and I take it. It’s heavier than I thought.

“Harry asked if you can cut for the final scene, see the man behind the camera? He’ll look to you and give you the nod. Then you step in front and just do the thing.”

“Oh…” I’m still staring at the thing in my hand. My palms feel sweaty like it’s going to crash to the ground and break in two but that thought gets me to hold it closer. “Thanks.”

“Yep,” the guy walks away and I stare at the scene being filmed. Slowly I walk closer to the cameraman and he glances at me, notices the clapper, and smiles holding up two fingers.

He whispers something to someone beside him and they change the lighting. Harry walks off “screen” and I try to catch his eye to show him what I had. We catch it briefly and he winks before walking back onto the screen.

Oh my god! My heart is racing as I hold it in my hands. I had to chill. Or I’m gonna make a mess of things. It’s just a clapperboard and you’re saying one word!

Two minutes. I manage to calm down enough and when I get the signal I step in front of the camera and, as I see it later on, with the biggest grin on my face I clap down and yell “cut!”

Harry lets out a whoop and the crew cheers as the filming wraps up. I’m sure my eyes are wide as saucers as I go to Harry. He puts an arm around me and pulls me in, laughing because I tell him my heart is racing and how does he do tours when just that made me shaky.

“It gets easier,” we walk now with his arm around my shoulder. “One day you’ll be behind the camera shouting at me to move places.”

“Oooh getting to boss you around and get paid for it?” I look up at him and my breath catches because he’s handsome at every bloody angle. “Sign me up.”

He let me go and gives me a few tsks. Then he gets his phone and tells me to pose with the clapper and I do it happily. The picture shows a grinning girl with pure delight on her face.

“I’ll put that as your contact photo right,” Harry says as he gets into a jacket. “And that way at least when you call me with bad news I get to see a smile beforehand.”

“Har har,” I roll my eyes but I don’t hate the idea.

A lot of the crew decide to go out for drinks and dinner and Harry passes but I decide to go. I’d met some friendly faces and I would miss working with them, miss the overall energy, when we got back to London.

As I fall asleep that night, full and content, I realize I hadn’t texted Gray all day. I wake to check my phone and see he’d sent a text a few hours ago.

Sorry I was out for lunch with the crew. Babe it was sooooo fun I can’t wait to show you pictures when I get home.

I read the rest of his message asking how I was. I tell him my headache was gone and ask him about his week but I’ve fallen asleep before he can respond.

***

The morning I have to leave for tour I wake up way too early. Too much nervous excitement. I’d already brushed and checked my luggage was packed before crawling back into bed waiting for Gray to wake.

I watch him sleep, my eyes following the familiar contours of his face. We’d been making an effort at rebuilding the relationship since we agreed we at least had to give it a try after I got home from Scotland a month ago. On one hand it feels like starting a new relationship and also breathing easier because we were both on the same page. On the other, we’d finally started planning the wedding!

I would miss him, nearly 3 weeks away which is the longest we’ve been apart since we got together. Then I’d be home for 2 weeks, and away for the last week before Harry finishes with a couple shows in London. It was going to be epic and crazy as exhausted as I’ve been.

I huddle close to Gray and he stirs slightly but I kiss his neck to wake him.

“Hey,” he mumbles in his sleep.

“Morning,” I press another kiss to his face.

“What time?” He moves his head to kiss me back.

“Hmmm half past 7?”

He grumbles about it being so early but it stops shortly after with both of my legs on either side of him and my hair curtaining our faces.

“M’gonna miss your snooty face,” I say with another kiss. He finally opens his eyes and his hand comes up to hold my chin.

“I’ll be the one here missing you.”

“I’ll call every chance I get.”

“You’ll get to see so many new cities,” he says.

“Barely but I’m gonna try to make the most of it,” the travel schedule was hectic but I know there were a couple slower days I could use to explore cities. If I wasn’t completely exhausted.

“You’ll have a lot of fun,” he pushes my hair behind my ear.

“Remember Josie’s coming this weekend to stay the week.” Gray’s sister had taken the opportunity of a semi-empty flat to stay here while she studied for mid-terms. I had encouraged it so Gray felt less lonely.

“She’s gonna drive me crazy,” he huffs.

“Just behave,” I warn him.

“I don’t know how,” he smiles, rolling us around so he’s on top and showing me what misbehaving means. I don’t mind it a bit.

After a quick shower together we head out to the airport, Harry offered to pick me up on his way but I wanted to make sure I spent as much time with Gray as possible so he doesn’t feel like I was leaving him like before. I hoped he knew, at least, the effort I was making.

***

Stockholm, Hamburg, Oslo, and Copenhagen in one week. It was exhilarating and exhausting and hectic and so fulfilling.

I had seen Harry at small shows before but on the big stage he has a presence with a capital P. It’s amazing watching him perform and dance and be charming all over. He could be cheeky yet command the crowd at the same time. And despite all these sides he’s never inauthentic.

For the first time I’m able to take somewhat of a backseat. He already had his manager, tour manager, stylist, and tour chef with him to manage most aspects I would regularly. I became sort of an extra hand when I wasn’t having sit-down hours. That’s what I called the times I was sitting on the laptop sorting out future timelines for Harry’s life (and my wedding).

But I loved it. I’d pick a cafe close to our hotel and spend a few hours working. I’d call Gray during these times and if he was free we’d catch up on all I saw and he’d share stories with me until Josie crashed the conversation with stories of her own.

My eye bags require more concealer than usual and my body begs for nutrition but otherwise I love every second.

I’m back from my sit-down hours and get off the lift. Harry and his team were placed in the same hotel just down the hall from each other. As I approach my own door one of Harry’s band mates rushes out of his door looking stressed.

“He’s in a mood,” she huffs. “Don’t go in there.”

“Did something happen?” I ask.

She shrugs, “he gets this way. Usually at the start of tour I don’t know why. Kinda snappy just…give him space.”

I do as she says but the next morning as we wait to board our early flight to Paris he continues to be a dick to everyone.

“Maybe take a nap on the flight Haz,” one of his bandmates suggest. “We’re all bloody tired don’t be such a grump.”

“I don’t need a bloody nap stop treating me like a child.”

“What to do when you act like one.”

“You know what-“

“Woah hey c’mon.”

I startle at the commotion, I was starting to doze off but Harry rushing out of his seat and someone else stepping between him and Mitch wakes me entirely.

“Let’s stand there get some space.” Niji recommends.

Everyone follows the group away and it’s Harry, myself, and my bag left.

He glances at me, “Don’t you start too.”

“I wasn’t…”

“I could see it in your face.”

“What the hell? I was just napping I don’t even know what’s going on except that you really are being a dick.”

“There you go!” He points. “I knew you wanted to say it.”

“Guess I’m joining the others…” I pick up my bag and walk to everyone else. They’re all venting their frustrations for Harry and comfort me that he was an asshole to everyone.

It gets worse on the flight when our pilot announces we couldn’t land in Paris.

“What’s going on?” I ask our hostess.

“The weather, we apologize for the inconvenience folks but there is high winds and a lot of fog so it’s not safe to fly.”

“I have a show tonight,” Harry stands and starts to advance on the poor woman. “I need to be in Paris before 4 where are we landing?!”

“Sir we’ll be landing in the Lille airport. This is good because we’re only a few hours from the city-“

“For fuck’s sake,” Harry runs his hand through his hair.

“I understand,” the woman looks back at me and I nod, letting her know I got it.

“Harry we’ll only be delayed by a few hours-“

“I don’t have time for a few hours. We need to set up and run tests in Paris! We were supposed to be there yesterday but somebody booked the wrong shit!”

It was true, his tour manager had booked us for Monday morning rather than Sunday morning but at the time it hadn’t been a big deal since the show was 7 on Monday and we got an extra day to relax. Now it made things more stressful.

“Fuck this,” Harry mutters. The other members on the plane roll their eyes and put on headphones, sighing and looking out the window. It was obvious to everyone but Harry that this was just a minor setback.

I decide to be the idiot who enters the lion’s cage. Harry sits in the back of the plane jiggling his leg and trying to connect his phone to service.

“Are you trying to call Morgan?” I ask.

“No I’m trying to call the pope.”

“He might be sleeping.”

He looks up at me and if I wasn’t aware of how stressed he was I would laugh. Confused doesn’t even cover his expression.

“I don’t have time for this right now, I need to get to the show-“

“We have like a five hour wiggle room it’s just a minor-“

“I can’t perform thrown off like this!”

“There’s no reason to be thrown off!” I try to keep my volume contained but I can feel eyes on my back.

“I don’t need you right now just go.”

“So I guess the one week rule is true.” I mutter.

“What’s that?” He asks with an i-dare-you expression.

“I said the one week rule of you being an asshole on tour, I guess that was true. I wish someone told me I would have skipped it.”

“Well you could have skipped the whole thing and nobody would notice.”

His comeback is muttered but cuts like a machete and I feel like the words were physically slung at me. I stand there stunned, my heart sinking as he continues to fiddle with his phone until the call connects.

The shock wears off quickly leaving me with the familiar heat of anger. This was how I reacted to Harry and his dickish ways. How dare he? Why the fuck does he think it’s okay to treat me like this when he wanted? I clench my fist as his voice rises with Morgan.

But beneath the anger is a raw hurt, his words struck a nerve. The same one Gray had struck once. I was replaceable, and all the efforts I’ve put into my career were unimportant and unappreciated.

I snatch the phone from Harry, annoyed at hearing him talk at Morgan.

“Hey Morgan it’s Y/N, yeah it’s a minor inconvenience but if you can get a bus or something to the airport it should be…”

I look to the hostess and she flashes me two fingers and a shake of her hand.

“About 2 hours to get into the city.” I finish. I nod along to Morgan’s questions and repeat details back. “Yeah just text me on my phone, not Harry’s. We’ll sort this out.”

“Thank you y/n. I’m really glad you’re there today.”

The words are a feather on a pile of nails, it’s nice to hear but Harry’s cruel words still ring in my ear.

I hand the phone back to him, expecting a thank you or an apology, but he just takes it and slinks down in his seat.

“It’s her isn’t it?” Sarah gets up on her seat on her knees to look back at Harry. I pause as I walk up the aisle. Is was who?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Harry mutters with his eyes glued to his screen.

“It is,” someone else says.

“Who?” Claire asks.

“Don’t take his mood personally,” Sarah says to me. “Paris is a touchy city for him.”

“Do you guys ever shut up?” Harry asks.

“No that’s why we’re your crew,” Mitch responds.

“We understand,” Sarah continues. Who was she talking about!? “Just don’t take it out on us. It’s not nice.”

Harry doesn’t respond but I sense a deflating happening on his side. Sarah’s words had gotten through to him but they’d just made me super curious.

I get filled in as we wait at the airport for our bus—Morgan had saved the day.

I hear about Harry’s french lover and how he got his heart broken a couple years ago. How the last time they were in France he had disappeared for a day and they’re all sure he visited her. How he can’t go to Paris without getting in a mood, either because he doesn’t get to see her or he’s anxious about seeing her.

“That’s like a city-specific booty-call.”

“Kinda,” Sarah laughs. “But I think he grew really attached to her so it’s a bit—he’s coming back.”

Harry stomps back to where we are, a tray of coffee in his hands. His team accepts it without a word. The world’s most famous non-verbal apology.

I watch him wearily. I still wanted a verbal apology from him, was that crazy? What he said was deeply hurtful. And hearing about his French lover makes me feel a way that I don’t like so I shut it out. I stick to the anger instead. It was easier.

He starts to warm up as we board the bus, cracking jokes with his band. I pick a seat near the front and stay there with my headphones. Aside from answering Morgan’s texts I pretend to be asleep. Eventually I do.

Someone flicks my hat, “C’mon sleepyhead! We’re in the city of love.”

“Wha?” There’s a crick in my neck and I feel rusty. But Harry’s right, we’d landed in Paris. He hovers above my seat with a jovial smile but it dies the longer I don’t return it. Serves him right. He doesn’t get to be cruel and wipe it away with coffee and a joke.

He gets the hint and boards off. I grab the last of the bags and join the group in the lobby where Morgan greets Harry like his long lost son.

“The trials aren’t over just yet,” he cringes. “I don’t know why Paris keeps fucking with me but we’re booked tight for rooms.”

“What does that mean?” Harry asks.

“Uhm well,” Morgan clears his throat. “The hotel overbooked. We have 3 rooms between the 8 of us. Luckily I have a mate who lives in town so I’ll crash at his. The rest of you need to share.”

“Morgan you’re fucking with me,” someone groans.

“No I’m sorry. I booked 5 with an en-suite but they screwed up. They’re refunding us half—I fought for that at least. I can use that to put others in another hotel if you’d like but so far I’ve only managed one room with two doubles.”

“Claire and I can share,” Sarah says.

“Good, Mitch you good with the boys?”

“I’ve slept in worse places.”

“Uh y/n…would you like me to book you an extra room somewhere? I don’t want you to be far from the team-“

“She’ll stay with me.” Harry says. “I’m performing tonight and then we’re moving to Amsterdam tomorrow afternoon so…”

I squirm a little as all eyes fall to me. Cool. Casual. “Sure.”

“Sorted! Let’s get these bags up and out of the way. I’ll have a car waiting down here in a half hour so you can all freshen up and meet me again.”

We trudge along and get off on our respective floors.

“The truth is,” Harry says as we scan ourselves into our room. “I’m probably not even gonna use the bed for the night so it’s all yours.”

“Oh,” I look around the room. It’s got a french touch and a lush queen in the middle. I could deal with not having to share it. I’m sure my fiancé back home would be happier too. Even though I want to ask why I don’t. “Okay.”

We settle our things in silence and a part of me wants to break it and start talking about the ride and Paris but I’m still not over his earlier behaviour so I continue giving the bare minimum. He doesn’t seem to care.

We head off for tests and I end up falling asleep in one of the booths. The tiredness was really creeping up. I could sleep through all the noise the band was making.

A particularly loud screeching from feedback wakes me up. I look down to the group, everyone’s mostly broken up while tech crew tapes down some wires and connects equipment. Harry sits on the edge of the stage, swinging his feet and texting away at his phone. He’s different from the grump this morning. He’s lighter.

Charlie catches me looking and waves, I wave back. There’s a pit in my stomach that grows heavier as the day passes into night.

Paris is not the loudest but super engaged. Everyone has some reference to Harry adorned on their clothing or their face and I can tell Harry has a special connection to the group.

“And finally,” Harry says into the mic. “This is a special song for my French friends. Tonight has been a blessing and I want to merci beaucoup for showing up!”

The crowd cheers as the intro to his song comes on. I listen to the lyrics for the first time since hearing the song last year and connect the dots to what Sarah said earlier. Maybe this was the girl. Maybe this was why he wasn’t sleeping at the hotel tonight.

As we’re leaving the venue and I’m going through a mental list of everything we could have forgotten, we spot a familiar face around back.

“Riley?” Mitch spots him first. “Is that you mate?”

“Hey,” Riley like, Harry’s old assistant Riley is standing with a couple other people who are having a smoke. He squashes his and greets the band who apparently still feel fondly when it comes to him. He looks the exact same but my feelings towards him are curdled after knowing what he’s like and how he left us high and dry.

That leaves Harry and I still hovering by the entrance alone, staring at the reunion by the time Riley comes up to us. I guess the band knew his friends because they get to chatting. I remember then, Riley ditched Harry to work for one of his friends. Must be a small world.

“Why the long face you two, c’mon still not holding a grudge are we?”

“Riley,” Harry addresses him. I stay silent, watching Riley from where I stand behind Harry.

“Nice to see Y/N’s still sticking around. How are you liking tour life?”

“Did you come to the show?” I find my voice.

“Yeah,” he nods all friendly like this was casual and he’s done nothing wrong ever. “I might be biased because I worked for the guy but Harry Styles is one of my top artist. And I’m in Paris until the Fall so why not come support him.”

“Well,” Harry says in the same deadpan voice. “Thanks for the support Riley.”

Riley glances over at him, smug. He knows he’s annoying Harry. So maybe I wasn’t the only one who got enjoyment out of doing that.

“Oh c’mon you’re still upset with me jumping ship? It’s been months! Y/N we’re cool right-“

Riley moves to walk past Harry and to me but Harry side-steps to stay in his way. I look at Harry. So does Riley, confusion sliding away to amusement.

“Oh I see,” he steps back, arms crossed. “Harry you sly dog you did it again.”

“We’re going now,” Harry says. “Try not to show up at any other shows.”

Harry tried to leave and I take the few steps to follow but Riley starts again.

“So y/n you fell for his trick too? I’m disappointed I thought you were immune.” Riley continues. “How’d he get you to the bedroom? Lots of booze? Or did you not even make it to the bedroom? Was it being treated like shit that did it for you?”

“What?” Now in the middle, I look between the two, wondering how this conversation took such a bizarre turn.

“You have some obsession with me Riley?” Harry steps back towards us. “Because you sure enjoy making up stories in your head with me starring in it. Don’t rope y/n into them either.”

“Not all stories,” Riley stays smug. “Some of them I’ve seen with my own eyes.”

They had to be talking about the last PA. The story Riley told me. Which means he thinks I…

“You really should watch what you talk about,” Harry reminds him.

Riley turns his attention to me, “Y/N I thought I warned you good enough. But I guess you put out as easily as the last one.”

“Riley whatever drama you’re trying to-“

“Mate,” Harry gets in Riley’s face so he can’t even look at me. I go quiet. “Get the fuck out of my sight before I get security to kick you out permanently.”

“Being the knight in shining armour doesn’t really suit you Haz,” Riley says. With one final judgemental look thrown my way he walks away. I have to lay a hand on Harry’s arm just to keep him from lunging at him but as soon as my hand makes contact he brushes me away.

This whole interaction was ego-bruising. “Why did he think-“

“Ignore him.” Harry cuts me off, his back still to me. His band, having watched the final scene unfold, now awkwardly shuffles back to us. “You okay?”

“Yeah but why-“

“Good.”

He cuts me off from asking anything and I don’t get to push because the group tries to defuse the situation by changing the subject. That includes the girls inviting me for drinks at their favourite parisian place. Harry disappears and so do those answers.

I try to poke whether the girls at dinner knew anything about his last PA but they barely met her. So I’m forced to eat oysters when they find out I’d never had them and the subject changes quickly to new and other things.

“So oysters thumbs up or down?” I’m asked as I slowly eat another.

“Weird texture…ehh?” I hover my thumb in the middle.

“Well too bad your partner—what’s his name again?” They ask. I tell her. “Ooh good name. Too bad Grayson isn’t here to cash in on all these oysters.”

They laugh and I think I’m not drunk enough to laugh as much with.

It’s the wee hours of the morning by the time we get back to the hotel. I crash alone as soon as my head hits the pillow.

***

After three weeks of tour I’m ecstatic to get back home. I wanted to sleep in the same bed for more than a day, I wanted a shower with even temperature, and I wanted a home-cooked meal.

And I wanted Gray.

I even catch an earlier flight—the night before rather than the next morning. I build up surprising Gray so much that I end up being the one who’s surprised when I come home to an empty flat.

I double check I’d set my phone back to the right time but it’s nearly 11. He must be out with friends, not a client.

I want to call him but still hold the idea of a surprise so I take a shower instead, put a load of laundry in, and make myself a sandwich. I crawl into bed at 1, still no Gray.

I end up tapping through our friends’ stories and find him in one. At least I knew where he was. But 2/3 photos I can find of him, Bex is standing too close for comfort.

I can tell by the photos there’s nothing going on. From his end. The most contact they have is his arm around her shoulder but for some reason all of this makes me mad. I’d broken it down to him that he couldn’t talk with people who had a thing for him because they would only give biased advice. But he didn’t listen. He said I was reading into it too much. And here she was, gazing up at him in every damn photo.

I hate that I wasn’t even home for a couple hours and already found something to annoy me.

I must have fallen asleep shortly after because I wake to poking on my side.

“Y/n? Is that really you? Y/n? Y/n?”

Gray.

“Hi,” I turn in bed. “I’m home early.”

“Shit!” He stands and sways back slightly. Wow, he was pissed. I hadn’t seen him this inebriated in a hot minute. “You didn’t say!”

“I know I-“

“I thought I imagined you.”

“Nope all here,” I grit my teeth. Why was I annoyed at my boyfriend for having a life, I scold myself.

Why is he so drunk and is this a new thing or did he only get this way cuz I’m not around?

“You finally came back to me,” he slurs. He smells like a brewery as he climbs into bed and I wish I could force a shower on him but I get swept up in his arms. “Hey you were right by the way.”

“About?”

“About.”

“Gray! What was I right about?”

“I’m getting to it! You. Were right. About Bex.”

“H-how do you know?” Weird coincidence. Or not?

“Sheshe she tried to kiss me!” He falls back laughing in bed. “I said nooo cuz I have a fiancée. Y/N. Oops. She was maaad.”

My heart drops. I knew it. That little bitch! And she had to go and try to kiss my man when he’s drunk! I officially didn’t like her. And the story itself adds to my irritation.

“Wow. Crazy. I’m tired as hell so I’m going to bed.”

I turn and leave my back to Gray. I didn’t want to see him this drunk, this chill about someone I warned him about trying to kiss him.

He splays on the bed where he is, draping an arm over me and pretty soon I hear his even breathing. That annoys me too, that he could fall asleep so quick. His arm is a weight over my body and I feel like I’m sinking into the bed and out of view.

***

It’s like Grayson and I have forgotten how to live with each other.

What starts out as minor annoyances turn into bickering pretty quickly. Our 1 bedroom flat begins to feel cramped and I desperately try to cling onto the idea of us because I can’t fathom us fizzling out like this but my fingernails are raw from scraping threads.

Work is the easiest it’s been in a while. With no set working hours I just spend a few hours everyday doing admin and running errands. Otherwise, unless somebody calls me I’m free.

I thought it would be great. So much free time with Gray, we could continue planning the wedding and catch up again. But he busies himself with work, and when we go on dates he doesn’t make much of an effort to talk. It’s like getting to know him all over again except he’s a broodier version of himself. It makes me mad and I end up picking fights.

I book brunch with some of the girls on the last Saturday I’m home, thinking it might help to have space from Gray and see other people. I thought everything would be fine. And it is, on a surface level—they treat me perfectly normal.

Except the only time they gave me space to talk about myself went something like this,

“So Y/N how are you? Busy touring how is that?”

“Oh yeah it was great! Really taxing but fulfilling too. I went to so many cities I haven’t visited even though I’ve been in London for like 7 years? Copenhagen was one of my fave-

“Ooh. Yeah I really want to visit Copenhagen this summer.”

“Oh I love Copenhagen…”

And I was officially asked out of sharing my own life. The rest of brunch was me reacting to everyone else’s stories and having the subject change quickly after I brought up anything about myself. When I mentioned Gray casually, I could feel the judgement. It’s like they were waiting on me to complain about him so they could pounce. It’s a weird and tiring energy.

As we all say our goodbyes I manage to catch Rebecca alone.

“Hey Bex,” I stop her on the edge of the group. “I know we haven’t talked much lately but I just want to say I don’t appreciate the moves you’re making on Gray.”

She raises a brow, “moves?”

“He told me you tried to kiss him. Those kinds of moves.”

Her face pinches. “Well someone has to make some.”

“Excuse me?” She tries to walk away but I rush to step in front of her.

“It’s no secret you and Gray are on the road to a breakup,” she has the audacity to look judgey in that moment and I want to slap the look off her face.

“What the fuck do you know about me and Gray? Back. Off.”

“Hey what’s going on?” One of our other friends drifts towards us and I notice they’re all looking our way.

“Just a friendly chat,” I say with sarcasm you can’t miss. At the same time Bex responds, “Y/n’s being delusional.”

I was going to get physical, I step back towards her but our friends get between us. I think they knew uni me, and knew I wasn’t afraid of confrontation.

“What the fuck y/n?” I was so tired of the look on their faces, like I was crazy.

“She tried to kiss Gray!” I reveal. “Last week! I’m just telling her to back off and I have every right to!”

It’s news to them. They turn to Bex who’s fidgeting with her sweater as a flush creeps up her neck.

“I-I he did! He tried to kiss me!”

I snort, “I don’t have time for your bullshit Rebecca. I’ve gotta go.”

“Oh yeah we all know you don’t have time y/n, you’re so busy these days.”

“Bex!” Someone scolds her.

“Somebody better teach her hand to keep her hand over her mouth because I will get through all of you if it means getting to her. You know you guys don’t know shit about my life. And you don’t even care to these days! Just because Gray told his sob side you guys treat me like-like shit!”

“That’s not true-“

“It is! You don’t even know my side! And I don’t care to explain because you lot are supposed to be our friends, not the judge and jury of my relationship.”

They stare blankly at me and nobody denies it so I continue: “I try so hard to stay involved in your lives knowing I can’t make it to half of our parties, I’m always messaging you guys and trying to stay on top of your socials to know what’s going on in your lives. I feel like I make all the effort and I’m just made the pariah.”

It feels good getting it off my chest. It feels amazing. I feel like I’m breathing an actual lungful of air now.

“We’re sorry if we made you feel that way.” I look at who’s said this. One of my oldest friends from uni. I scoff.

“You’re sorry if you made me feel that way?! I just said you did!”

“Sorry,” she says, quieter.

“Y’know it’s…it’s disappointing. I thought, when we became best friends first year of uni nothing could shake the bond we had. Apparently a man you met 3 years ago who vented to you about your best friend was just the thing.” All their faces are small and nobody makes eye contact with me. “Anyway, I do have to go. I have an appointment. Let’s not do this again.”

I walk away, proud of myself for saying what I had to and getting it off my chest. For sticking up for myself.

But the farther away I get, the more the adrenaline crashes through me and I end up walking onto the tube on shaky legs and collapsing in my seat. The reality of what’s happened falls into my lap and I see a bunch of burned bridges.

I spend a couple extra hours out after my appointment. I’m not going anywhere in particular, I let my feet carry me through the city as my mind continues to whir.

Harry texts me, asking me to stop by his place before I fly back for tour tomorrow evening. Apparently the concierge needed all his mail picked up and he needed a few of the items. It annoys me that he waited last minute to ask.

When I get home at 4, Gray’s vacuuming the flat. He stops it when I come in.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“How was brunch?”

It’s the way he asks. I know he knows. Which means a group chat exists with our friends and him without me. It feels like another betrayal. Who keeps their partner out deliberately? Who opens up their relationship like a hockey net, open for anyone to take shots at?

“Why’re you asking?” I feel another fight coming.

“I can’t ask you how brunch went?”

“Did you hear something? Let me guess, did Bex snitch?”

“No, chill out why would Bex snitch?”

“Grayson,” I look at him deadpan. “Don’t bullshit me. If you have any respect for me, which I know now is not a lot, don’t bullshit me.”

He sighs but doesn’t say anything more. Doesn’t lie and doesn’t tell the truth.

“So?” I ask. “Is there like a group chat or something?”

“Let’s just drop it-“

“No! I’m not dropping this when you brought it up. So is there? Did you disrespect me in front of all our friends by talking shit, and then do it even more by allowing them to ice me out in a group chat you knew I wasn’t part of?”

He doesn’t respond. My temper flares.

“The hurtful part isn’t even not being part of the chat, it’s that you didn’t tell me.”

It makes sense now. I was always initiating birthday messages there or privately, thinking everyone was forgetting to wish each other. Now I know I was public fool number one keeping that convo alive when they were probably all wishing each other elsewhere. God. I was an idiot!

“Look I’m sorry y/n, after you stopped showing up to things they just made a new one so they don’t bother you.”

“Oh is that why? Because that was active up until a few months ago. So according to the timeline it was probably when you fucked up and talked shit about me to all our friends and they decided I was a bitch and they should all cancel me! Well I hope you’re happy Gray!”

“I’m not! I’m sorry I didn’t realize-“

“Stop!” I slam my hand into the wall and it hurts harder than I anticipated but I bite back the pain. “Just admit it! You want to paint me as the bad guy so fucking hard, and I am in some ways I know I’m far from perfect Gray! But instead of talking to me like normal fucking people do, you just iced me out and then isolated me from the only friends I’ve ever made in this stupid fucking city!”

I can’t help the tears now even though I don’t want to cry. I want to rage and scream and throw things about but the hurt is bigger and it bubbles over the pot and sears my heart.

I leave my shopping bags where I’ve dropped them and walk back out of the door before he can come up with a response. I couldn’t stand to look at his face. He’s betrayed me over and over and the whole time I was desperately trying to show him I hadn’t changed and I loved him.

I walk the 40 minute to Harry’s and the early evening air helps me learn how to breathe again. I take in gulps of it and try not to cry. I didn’t want to waste tears on Gray and my stupid friends. I didn’t want to do any of this! I just wanted to press pause on my whole damn life and take a nap.

Outside his building I pull out my phone and make sure I don’t look crazed. My hand is killing me and I ignore the bruising blooming fresh.

The concierge spots me just as I enter, and we make small talk about Harry on tour and his last few shows that would happen in London. I make a note to mention to Harry to send him tickets—apparently his niece listened to him.

He helps me load a cart with Harry’s mail and take it upstairs.

It had been over a month since I’d been in here and it’s weird that it feels comforting. Or maybe that was just after two weeks of feeling like a stranger at home.

Harry’s words on the plane echo back to me. Not that I was appreciated here either.

If there was ever a time to go back home to the States, it would be now. But that felt like running away. I had to sort my life out here before I made any rash decisions.

With a sigh I dump the paper onto the coffee table. After sorting what looked like bills from letters from miscellaneous I spot the two envelopes Harry wanted and put it to the side. I open the boxes next and locate his custom orthopaedic inserts he asked me to grab too.

I take the extra mail to my office to sort out. In the familiar closed quarters where I’d spent too much time in the last year rolling through a hundred phases, my feelings edge out of me. I try to wipe the tears and continue on but I end up pathetically sat over on the chair crying until I can barely breathe.

It’s pathetic because this is the first space I’ve felt I had the space to cry. And it was where I worked. Where, apparently, I wouldn’t even be missed.

New tears. Less breaths.

“Get it the fuck together,” I say between gasps. “That’s. Enough.”

Through my own self-talk I manage to calm down enough to finish the work. It’s half past 8 by the time I get back to the main living area. I get water to rehydrate myself and stay sitting on the couch staring into space for another ten minutes. I don’t think I had any more tears to cry. Just a rock in place of my heart and another bigger one attached to my ankle.

“Okay,” I finally get the courage to head home.

The end isn’t big and explosive. It’s a simple statement: I think we both know what needs to be done now.

I don’t fight him this time. I have no fight left in me. I just nod.

“I’ll sleep on the couch and still drop you off tomorrow,” he reassures me.

“Just sleep in bed,” I couldn’t even muster enough energy for expression. My flat tone is how I felt. “You don’t fit on the couch. And I’ll get myself to the airport.”

“No I’ll take you. I’ve already made the arrangements-“

“You don’t have to worry about me anymore Gray,” I say. He looks crestfallen and it irks me that he does. I didn’t want him to be sad, it was ridiculous but it was.

“Well I’ll take you anyway.” He says then turns back to the TV.

I wash the day off and make sure everything is packed for my early flight tomorrow. As I lay in bed alone I realize this might be the last time I ever sleep here. Like this. I would have to move all my shit out. Oh god, the wedding. I’d have to cancel my dress shopping dates and the cake testing, the invites we were still designing.

We’d only told our friends it was going to be a winter wedding, I’m glad we never gave them a date. Nobody had marked their calendars. Nothing about us would been permanent.

I look down at the simple ring on my hand. Everything but that.

I keep it on.

I’m still awake when Gray comes to bed but I pretend to sleep. My mind can’t stop making lists to answer: what now.

I’m in a fugue state all night and the only thing that clears the fog is the rays of sunshine peeking through the blinds in the morning. I hadn’t slept a wink.

Quiet, so I don’t wake Gray, I get up and dressed. I order a taxi and try not to linger on the hurt of doing this alone. Of Gray waking up to an empty bed.

The flight to Madrid is a couple hours and I miraculously nap through it. Everyone is happy to see me when I get back, especially when I present them with snacks they’d all said they missed from home while we were on tour. With them in hand, I’m an angel in their eyes.

I hand Harry his mail and he stops me. His eyes don’t stop examining my face.

“What happened to your hand?” He asks.

I’d picked up a bandaging kit and ice pack at the airport and with the help of Youtube, wrapped it up. It had started to bruise even worse but I couldn’t be arsed to deal with it even though it hurt. Nothing a few painkillers couldn’t fix.

“I accidentally got it caught in a door,” I lie easily. I had practiced. “It’s nothing.”

“Did you get it checked?”

“No.”

“Make sure you do, tonight’s show.”

“Sure. It’s really nothing though.”

“You sure?” He asks. His gaze is unnerving.

“Mhm,” I nod.

He’s silent, eyes scanning my face. Right as I decide I couldn’t take the scrutiny he asks, “Why were you crying last night?”

I stare, unsure what kind of trick he was playing.

“Sorry.” He laughs to himself. “I have one of those uh, motion sensor cameras in the entryway. I turn it on while I’m away so it sends like, automatic clips if there’s movement. I saw you come in and leave.”

“Oh.” Shit. Think fast. Think fast. “I uhm, got into it with some friends I had a meal with. Y’know…they were being a bit icy cuz of what they’ve heard. I’m over it though.”

“Yeah?” His eyes flicker down to my hand.

“Yeah.” I hold his green eyes for a moment, to reassure him I’m okay. I don’t know why he cares, maybe because I looked like a right mess last night as I left. How embarrassing. But I do my best acting job ever.

Satisfied, he lets me go. I return to the group asking for updates and any stories they wanted to share. Before long I’m laughing along and creeping out of my depressed mood. But something heavier still lingers.

***

TAGLIST: @boomitsallie1 @indierockgirrl @ndunad @jerseygirlinca @sunshinemoonsposts @ninasw0rld @love-letters-to-uranus @mayamonroem @sassamanda77

#writingsfromhome #harry styles x reader #harry styles fic #harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #fic #harry styles angst #harry styles series #dos and donts #harry styles au #like I’m actually annoyed I had to split this up #because it’s supposed to get more interesting #ugh tumblr and its word limit… #musician!harry #well excited to finish the final part tho

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for telling my cousin that her baby's nursery is boring and lifeless

I (24F) have an older cousin J (27F) who is like an older sister to me. Well she's currently six months pregnant with her first child and just recently finished the nursery so she invited me and my fiancé M (24M) over to see it for the first time.

Well we went and saw it yesterday.

You know those moms on instagram and tiktok that try to make their nurseries "aesthetic" and "minimalist" by making EVERYTHING beige, gray, or white?

Yeah thats what she did.

Everything in that room was either white or pale gray. The walls were white, the ceiling was white, the crib, blankets, curtains, blankets, even all the toys were white or gray.

And the only decoration in that room was a wooden circle, painted gray, with the baby's name right above the crib.

That room felt so cold and straight up sterile, like a hospital room. I cannot tell how unwelcoming and downright unsettling that room felt.

(and she wants to put a BABY in there?)

And J was just smiling a big smile, talking about how clean and calming the room was. (Calming how exactly? Just standing in that pale lifeless room was triggering my anxiety so bad that my chest had started to hurt from how hard my heart was beating)

I look over at M and he has the same uneasy "what the fuck?" expression on his face that I did.

J then asked if I liked it and wanted to do something similar for my own nursery (Im currently twelve weeks pregnant myself)

I outright told her no and when she asked why not I told her that her nursery was incredibly boring and bland. (I didnt tell her that being in this nursery made me feel like I was put in solitary confinement) she got angry and started yelling, saying that she worked really hard on this nursery to make it look as good as it does.

M tried to tell her to at the very least add some colorful flowers or something because babies need color and visual stimulation when they're young(which is true) but she said it would ruin the aesthetic. J then told us both to leave since we hated her hard work so much. (Also babies are very MESSY and stay very messy even when they become children. Like I distinctly remember running around covered in stickers, mud, finger paint, leftover food, and juice for a good portion of my childhood. So why would you want the room where your baby spends the most time to white? Aka one of the most difficult colors to keep clean? Thats just asking for problems)

Well a couple of hours later J's friends starting dming us, calling us awful people, saying that the nursery wasnt for the baby it was for the mom so J could decorate the nursery however she pleased (??? Its literally the BABY'S room) that we were just jealous of her good design and we were being assholes to a pregnant woman.

I dont really think we were rude and she's the one that asked for our opinion. But idk so Im letting tumblr decide

Were we the assholes?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

[deanwritings]

The Guest House - Chapter 6

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Series Summary: Dean Winchester is going through a nasty divorce. He doesn't have much left to his name, but what he does have is his house. Leave it to his soon-to-be ex wife to find a way to even ruin that for him. Enter Y/N, who is looking to get away from life for a bit, and stumbles right into the middle of it all.

The Guest House Master List

Word Count: 3,288

A/N: Almost missed this week's chapter because I've been obsessively reading Fourth Wing and Iron Flame. Took a lot of willpower to put the books down and get this finished 😅

You were absolutely shocked, flabbergasted, dismayed, aghast, and every other word in the thesaurus when Dean offered to be your hiking buddy. 

Never in a million years did you ever expect the man to offer you any favors, not alone fix your car, and definitely not take you hiking. 

After he left for work, a part of you still wanted to go. You weren’t one to wait around if you didn’t have to, but if you were being honest with yourself, you had been scared to go alone. The only times you had ever hiked alone was when you were a fearless teenager, and even then you had your 110 pound dog, Beau, by your side, so you never had to worry about someone bothering you. Plus, those were your home trails, you knew them even when you took a wrong turn. Mount Carmel was entirely new to you. Even though the hiking reviews said the trails were relatively easy, there was always a chance of missing a trail marker, especially being out of season. Hiking markers were typically re-sprayed in spring, so it had been almost a year of weathering the elements since the last time they’d likely have been updated. 

And of course, the big question ringing in your mind – could you trust Dean? The truth was, you didn’t know much about him. Every interaction up until that point had been contentious at best. Not to mention that gun he first greeted you with. Sure, you two had a nice morning together, but was that enough to trust him and let him lead you through the woods alone? 

So you decided to give Sydney a call.

“Absolutely not.” Her voice rings through the receiver. ��Just cause he was nice to you once means nothing.” You sigh as you throw yourself onto the couch. 

“I know.” And you do. That’s why you were calling her for a second opinion. “But he actually seemed genuine. Surprisingly so.”

“Nope. No. No way.” She reinforces her position on it. “Please don’t make me have to do an interview on Dateline. I will not be nice. I will say ‘I told her not to go but she was dumb and didn’t listen.’ Twitter will have a field day with it.” You laugh quietly as you let your head fall against the back of the couch, staring up at the plank ceilings that match the floors. 

“Fair enough,” you conceded, knowing that what she’s saying is absolutely true. “But what if I told you he was really hot?” You raise your eyebrows even though she can’t see you. 

The other line is silent for a moment.

“How hot we talking? Like Tom Hiddleston hot or Chris Hemsworth hot?”

“Hemsworth, definitely.” You smile as you think about Dean’s defined features; a strong jaw covered in a few days worth of scruff and his oddly beautiful green eyes. You don’t think you’ve ever considered a man’s eyes beautiful until you met him. You also enjoyed the way his hair swooped over his forehead. It wasn’t long, per say, but you definitely could see yourself grabbing a handful of it if the time were right.

“Are we forgetting the vindictive ex-wife?” Sydney chimes in, breaking you from your daydreaming before it takes a shameful turn. “I mean, he had to do something to her to make her hate him that much.”

“I’m not trying to marry him, Syd.” You roll your eyes. “Yeah, he’s kinda an asshole, but he’s a hot asshole. And it’s not like I’m going to be around here much longer.” You only had about two weeks left on your rental, and now that Dean was starting to come around to you, the thought crossed your mind that maybe he could be that vacation fling you had been hoping to find. 

“Okay, well I gotta get back to work.” You can hear her heels click before background voices filter in. You glance over to the kitchen clock; 1:31. Her lunch break was ending. “Just make smart choices, please.” Her voice pleads just a bit. You know she trusts you, but you would be looking out for her if the roles were reversed. 

“Always do, Sydy. I’ll text you later.” 

As you hang up, you realize that you haven’t actually gotten lunch yet for yourself. You had some cold cuts in the fridge, but considering you were supposed to be out hiking right now, you were antsy to get out of the house. 

You decide it’s a good day to head back into town and grab some lunch, and who knows, maybe you’ll run into a certain mechanic. The idea has you smiling as you grab your coat and throw on your boots, not before freshening up with some quick makeup before you go. Just in case. 

Thankfully, your car starts with just one easy press of the ignition, and your lips turn upward as you think about Dean saving you this morning. 

A few minutes later, you’re parked downtown, this time getting a spot right in front of BILLIES. Your eyes scan the street, not seeing the tell-tale forest green truck of your neighbor. 

It had been wishful thinking, but you still need lunch so you head inside.

“Afternoon, hun.” Billie herself greets you, and you give her a wave as you take a seat at the counter. This was your fourth visit now, and each time Billie had always greeted you with a warm smile and treated you like a regular, even though she knew you were leaving soon. 

She drops a menu and a water in front of you.

“You know the deal.” She gives you a smirk before turning towards the kitchen. And you do. Once you are ready to order, just flag her down.

You’ve been making a point to order something new each time you visit, so today you were going with a chipotle turkey cheeseburger, curly fries, and your usual Diet Coke. 

Once your food is ready, Billie drops it in front of you, but you stop her before she can hurry away. Even with a near-empty diner, she always manages to find something to keep her busy.

“Hey, can I get your opinion on something?” She nods, her hair bouncing around her as she drops a hand to her hip.

“What’s up, hun?” 

“You know Dean pretty well, right?” Her chestnut eyes narrow at you. 

“Sure do,” Her tone is lighter than her gaze. “Known that boy since he was a tyke. Babysat him and his brother a few times.” 

Well that was interesting, you didn’t know Dean had a brother. Not that you would, but considering all your run-ins, you assumed he would have been around. Maybe he didn’t live here anymore. 

“He offered to take me hiking on Mount Carmel on Thursday. Obviously I barely know him, he’s safe to go with right? Like, I don’t have to worry about him killing me or anything?” Her head falls back with a deep laugh, and her hands clap together. It takes her a moment to collect herself as her chest heaves, and she wipes a tear away from her eye. You just watch her with wide eyes as she draws the attention of the few patrons enjoying a late lunch. 

“Oh, LORD, I have not laughed like that in a while.” She throws a hand onto her chest. 

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’ then?” You assume from her reaction. 

“Sweetie, that boy is harmless.” She assures you, a hint of laughter still in her tone. “A pain in the ass, maybe, but you don’t have anything to worry about with Dean.” 

“Well that I knew.” You pick up a fry and take a bite.

“How’d you manage to talk him into taking you for a hike anyhow?” Billie asks as she rests one hand on the counter and the other finding its way back to her hip.

“He offered,” you shrug, biting into another fry as her eyebrows shoot up. 

“He offered to take you hiking?” She parrots in disbelief and you nod. Her eyes look you up and down and you suddenly sit up straighter under her scrutiny. 

“What?” You now feel self-conscious. You don’t know what she’s looking at or for, but heat rises to your ears and cheeks as she looks you over. 

She just tsks and shakes her head, pushing off the counter. 

“Just surprised is all.” She gives a small shrug as someone behind you flags her down. “Enjoy your meal, hun.” 

And with that, she hurries into the dining room, leaving you confused and hungry as you pick up your burger and dig in.

Dean’s toweling off his hair, the bathroom steamed and warm from his shower, when his phone buzzes on the counter. 

He clicks his phone alive, 7:02 in big white numerals above the text notification bearing your name. 

He stands up a little straighter as he clicks open the text, his eyes quickly scanning your words.

If the offer still stands, I wouldn’t mind a hiking buddy on Thursday. 

He smiles down at the text. He obviously didn’t know you very well, but he fully anticipated you ignoring his warning and going hiking alone today anyways. 

But his shoulders drop as he realizes he’s now committed to a hike and he drops his head back. 

“Fuck,” he mumbles as he tossed his damp towel in the hamper and heads into the bedroom, thinking about his response as he grabs some sweats, a henley, and a thick pair of socks, because god damn, it was cold out. 

 Once he’s changed, he picks his phone back up.

Consider it done. He texts back as he heads downstairs to whip up some dinner. 

Dean didn’t have a lot of skills outside the auto shop, but one thing he was good at was cooking. He spent a lot of his childhood watching cooking shows with his mom as she tried to up her own ability, his early years being a lot of tv dinners and mac and cheese. By the time he was a teenager, she could pull together the most delicious pot roast and mashed potatoes you ever had. And Dean was her number one helper. 

“My little sous chef.” She would call him until he begged her to stop one day when he was twelve. 

The thought makes him smile, and he realizes he hasn’t called her in a while.

Once he gets out the ingredients he needs, he grabs his headphones and pops them into his ears.

“Hey Siri,” He unwraps the strip steak and slaps it down onto a cutting board. “Call mom.”

The phone rings as he heavily salts the beef.

“Dean!” His mother's excitement makes him wince as it nearly blows out his eardrums.

“Hi, mom,” he smiles, happy to be talking to her for the first time in well over a week. He tried to call her every few days, but as his divorce has been draining him mentally and financially, he’s been calling less. And at this moment, he feels really bad about it. 

“It’s been a while.” She says much softer. “How are things?” The genuineness in her voice immediately eases the stress that has burrowed in his shoulders ever since Lisa left. 

As he heats up and butters his cast iron skillet, he fills his mom in on happenings at the shop, Mary needing full updates on Benny, Adam, and the rest of the gang. How the divorce is going, and Dean fills her in about his guest. 

“Dean,” she sighs. He knows this divorce hurts her. She had loved Lisa like the daughter she never had, and was so excited to watch her son start his life with what she thought was a lovely woman. He still remembers her heartbreak when he told her that he caught Lisa cheating and that she had left him.

“Sweetheart, is this really worth dragging on?” He rolls his eyes as he bastes the steak. 

Here comes the mom lecture. 

“I really wish you could just move on from all this. I know she hurt you, but Dean, how long are you going to continue giving her power over your life?” His shoulders drop as he sighs. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to move on, but to be honest, he just didn’t know how. Everything went so wrong so fast, his head was spinning like a top, and that was before he found Lisa in bed with Gavin. 

“I really want you to be happy, Dean.” The break in her voice has him shaking his head. This was another reason he hasn’t been calling as often. He didn’t want his own mother to pity him. 

Here he was, 32 years old, in the middle of a divorce, with nothing but a house and bitterness, while his brother was thriving. 

At 28, Sam was proving to be a shining star at the law firm he started with when he graduated law school. And last month, he proposed to his college sweetheart, Jessica. His life was just beginning, while Dean’s was stuck in the mud. 

“I am happy, mom.” He lies. “And I’ll be a lot happier once this divorce is over and Lisa is out of my life for good.” He carefully flips his steak, continuing to baste so it doesn’t burn. He can hear his mother’s sigh in his ears. She always knew when he was lying.

“Are you coming up to visit anytime soon?” She changes the subject.

“Actually, I’m coming up this weekend. There’s a car auction Sunday and Rick wants me to come tune up a few of his cars before he puts them on the block.” 

“Oh good!” His mother’s excitement returns, and they carry on with their conversation. 

Fifteen minutes later, Dean carries his finished plate to the table; seared stripe steak and roasted green beans with some leftover potatoes he had from a few nights ago. 

He rubs his hands together before he cuts into the steak, humming at the perfectly medium rare center. 

After a few bites, he picks up his phone, and sees he has a missed text from you stamped 24 minutes ago, while he was on the phone with his mom. 

Not sure if you wake up early on your days off, but if you do, I was thinking a sunrise hike? But if not I’m happy to go anytime. 

Dean purses his lips as he takes another bite, this time mixing in some mashed potato. 

He Googles Thursday’s sunrise: 6:59am. The hiking trails were about 25 minutes away, and it takes about an hour to hike to the lookout. Doing the math backwards, they would have to leave here by 5:30am. Definitely a little early for his taste on his one day off this week, but he invited himself on your hike, so he was going to swallow down his own distaste for that early of a start and agree. 

Sounds good to me. Meet me in the driveway 5:30am. We can take my car. 

Dean’s about to put his phone down but the three text bubbles jump up on the screen, and only a few seconds later, your next text.

On second thought, how about a post-sunrise hike? 

Dean smiles and lets you know that works, and you agree to meet in the driveway at 7:30am instead. 

See you then. You reply, and Dean closes out the screen and returns to his dinner. 

He’s not sure why, but he feels almost excited for tomorrow. Which is odd considering how much he fucking hates hiking. And though you two have been civil, he still wouldn't say he likes you. He just doesn’t dislike you anymore, finally able to separate you from the scheme Lisa dropped you into.

But Dean doesn’t dwell on it, more than likely just looking forward to a change of scenery as he takes a big bite of steak and settles into his seat.

“I can’t believe you consider this fun,” Dean huffs behind you, watching every step he takes as you transverse the mountainside. The incline is not overly steep, and thankfully the path isn’t too rocky, but the real danger is the one Dean warned you about; the ice. Thankfully you haven’t fallen flat on your ass, but you’ve definitely slipped a few times, once which had you rolling out your ankle to make sure you hadn’t sprained it only fifteen minutes in. 

“No one forced you to come.” You remind him with an easy breath as you focus back on your own steps, your gloved hands resting easy on the lapels of your backpack. Not that you’re trying to taunt him while he seems to be struggling as he staggers behind you.

“You know, you could walk on a flat road.” Dean continues to complain a few minutes later, as the trees start to fall away, replaced by boulders and lingering snow patches. “I mean, really, what the hells the difference? There’s plenty of trees on the road by my place if that’s what you’re looking for.” He gripes as you turn over your shoulder, watching as he steps around an iced-over puddle.  

“Tell me Dean, are you always this grumpy, or do I just seem to bring out the worst in you?” You pause and fully look towards him, dropping your hands across your chest as he takes a few more cautious steps, closing the distance between you as he steps up on a rock, the added height making him tower over you.

You’ve been at this for almost an hour, and Dean has complained almost every chance he’s had. It was very clear that he did not enjoy hiking, and it was starting to sour your morning. This was supposed to be your get-into-nature, positive energy, meditative morning hike. You had no problem taking this hike alone, he was the one who invited himself. So it was time he started acting like the guest he was. 

“Must be you, sweetheart.” He grins widely down at you, his white teeth flashing, and you suck in a breath as your heart halts.

Holy shit, this man is beautiful. His hair is tucked into a gray knit hat, and his broad frame is hidden under a thick, camel hunting coat. But his eyes. Those green eyes are shining bright in the early morning sun, and they may be the most amazing eyes you’ve ever seen, on a man or woman. It’s almost unfair. 

Truly, what the hell is a man as good-looking as Dean doing hiding away in this small town? Especially with the city only two hours away. He could easily be a model or an actor if he wanted to. The world opens doors for beautiful people. 

“Lucky me,” you regain your composure and return a tight smile as you turn on your heel, but as you shift, your left foot slips out from under your boot and you start to fall forward, your hands shooting out to brace your fall just as two hands grip your hips, catching you. 

“Warned you about that ice.” You can hear the cheeky grin in his voice as he helps you straighten up, his fingers digging deliciously into your skin through your workout tights before he lets go.

You want to shoot back a sassy remark, but you bite your tongue.

“Thank you.” You offer instead, turning towards him carefully as to not lose your footing again. 

“Don’t mention it,” he smiles down at you as he pushes past, taking the lead for the first time since you started your hike, and you have no choice but to follow.

Keep Reading

NEXT TIME:

“This is weird, right?” You say to yourself once you’re back to your little cabin. Who the fuck goes on a trip with a man they barely know, to stay with his mother of all people. 

Aunt Rose would. Your inner voice rings out. Hell, she would jump at the opportunity for the chance at a fun weekend at a fancy car show. 

I mean, it did sound cool. You’ve never been to a car show before, not that you know much about them, but you do “ohhh” and “ahhh” whenever a nice car drives by. You can at least appreciate them. And what were you going to do this weekend? The loneliness was starting to grate at you. Turns out four weeks alone wasn’t as relaxing as you expected it to be. It was nice at first, but now it was getting boring. You’ve hiked, you’ve read, you’ve meditated, you’ve shopped. Though it sounds like the town is bustling with city tourists during the warmer months, there was not much going on while there’s snow on the ground. Really, the only thing you could think of was to head to Max’s. Maybe you could meet someone this time, and not get interrupted since Dean won’t be around. 

But you know that’s not what you want to do. 

Oh god, Sydney is going to murder me. 

You pick up your phone and open a text.

I’m in. 

Forever Tag List

@iprobablyshipit91  @likesiriusly @kittyque @findingfitnessforme @wonderange @captainemwinchester @xtina2191 @smoothdogsgirl @mogaruke @chin-up-love @tsunadesenjuuchiha @lyarr24 @globetrotter28 @krazykelly @roseblue373 @k-slla @stephv213 @kaydallas21 @nerdymuffinbonkcloud

#dean x reader #dean winchester #dean imagine #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfic #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fic #dean x y/n #dean winchester fanfiction #the guest house

[decadentpostnachos-evil-twin]

This is why you can't have a discussion nowadays. People's narrative being "My opinion is the only opinion, Idc what you say you are wrong."

Bitch Honey, if you can't deal with someone else's opinion, maybe don't post shit in the internet for everyone to see.

You can't put up with morally dark characters who are actually morally dark and not trying to justify their actions.

Besides, the worst thing we actively see Eris do in all of the books is saying that Morrigan dresses like a slut and calling Cassian some slurs. Plus we know that he left Morrigan at the border without touching her (what was he supposed to do, take her to Beron? Srsly, use your brains people. Please.)

None of these things were nice.

But how does this in any way compare to slaughtering a whole village of people for revenge (Cassian)?

Or better yet, to leave a head on a spike in the garden of someone else for shits and giggles, be a ruler for centuries and yet not manage to stop women in your territory from being mutiliated, even though you call yourself the "most powerful High Lord to ever rule" or some shit. Or SA your apparent future wife, also just for fun because he could have left Feyre in the cell in acotar and no one would have given two shits except for Tamlin and Lucien who would have been worried for her. Stealing millenia old artifacts. Threatening to kill everyone who doesn't share your opinion, constantly and therefore jeopardizing an alliance against the main enemy. Keeping mass destruction weapons in your posession without telling anyone outside of your "family" about it. Misusing your wife and mate as a breeder and not even informing her about the fact that she will likely die in childbirth, instead leaving your sister in law to sacrifice the brunt of her own magic to safe her sister. Belittling a man dealing with heavy depression and PTSD for really no apparent reason other than your own petiness, telling him he should kill himself when he's at his lowest AFTER he saved your mates life, your life and essentially turned the tide in a war. And I could go on.

How are the narrative and part of the fandom able to find excuses for Rhysand's fucked up behaviour over and over and paint him the misunderstood hero, but Eris is evil incarnate because he did what again? Left Morrigan at the border, most likely knowing she would be found and taken care of (at the ripe age of...very much younger than her, too, mathematics say) and called Cassian a brute.

"Good to know that after five hundred years, you still dress like a slut." -Eris in acowar to Morrigan. This is him saying she dresses like a slut. Not calling her one.

I'm not trying to make excuses for Eris here. He's an asshole, I'm aware of it, and the absolute majority of his stans are aware of it. But that's about it. So if you make some post about "abusive men", and include Tamlin and Eris, then reflect on what fucked up shit your favs did. Because if saying someone dresses like a slut and leaving her lying around injured but untouched by you (when you have no responsibility for her state at all) is horrible and abusive, I'd like to know what you would call all the shit Rhysand pulled.

On the other hand, I'd like to say something about Neris shippers being racist, because I don't see how? I could honestly care less for how Cassian looks or his ethnicity, this is about him having literally no backbone and treating Nesta like shit throughout acosf when she was clearly not in a good place, mentally. If y'all wanna be degraded for having ugly trauma I can't help you. I liked Nessian in acowar, they had potential. But acosf? Nah.

#anti rhysand #anti rhys #eris vanserra #anti feysand #anti morrigan #anti cassian #neris #nesta archeron #pro tamlin

[windvexer]

dear chicken, if its not too much trouble, could i ask for your advice on a situation that's troubling me a lot as of late? my spiritual practice has been suffering due to my being torn between so many different interests and areas of hyperfocus, and i'm unsure how to reconcile all the different things that i'm drawn to but are so culturally different. for example, i'm in love with traditional english folk magic/witchcraft, and have done a lot of research on the regional folklore of places my ancestors are from. at the same time, however, i'm also in love with orphism, and feel no greater contentment and purpose than when i dream about devoting myself to the greek gods. to say nothing about historical/cultural differences and potential disrespect (ancient greece having very different ideas on what constituted "witchcraft" and whether or not it was hubris, for example) i'm just not sure how to even go about reconciling how these would work together as part of a practice. genuinely, i feel distressed, stuck, and as if i am simultaneously letting down my ancestors /and/ those who historical practices i have put on a pedestal.

Hi, Anon.

Do you think it's possible that you might have very unrealistic standards for what it actually means to practice your faith?

Because, please forgive me if I'm wrong, but I have a sneaking suspicion that you might be making up a ton of rules for yourself.

Have your ancestors visited you and told you they would be disappointed in you if you practiced anything other than English folk magic? If so, why do you hold their opinions to be higher than your happiness? If so, what steps have you taken to reconcile your relationship with your ancestor and reach a place of mutual understanding so they won't be upset with you for doing what makes you happy?

Approximately one billion modern witches practice witchcraft and intentionally include the Greek gods in their witchcraft, or, have a faith centered around the Greek gods and practice witchcraft on the side. A Greek goddess has personally helped me with my witchcraft even though I'm not even a pagan.

Is there anything that makes you feel that you in particular would disrespect the gods by doing this, even though other people do it and it improves their relationship with the gods?

(I also just now remembered Hekate, isn't she like, the highkey Greek goddess of witchcraft? Why wouldn't she want you to both venerate the Greek gods and practice witchcraft?)

If the gods have told you that you can't practice folk magic without disrespecting them, what steps have you taken to understand why they have this special rule for you that they do not have for other people? Have they told you that this is temporary, or permanent? When you've offered solutions, what did they say?

And if these assholes are all banding up on you telling you that you can't do what makes you happy and weaponizing their disappointment to make you fall in line, why do you want to work with any of them at all? You deserve better.

But, Anon, I secretly suspect that none of that has happened. I suspect that you might have just made up a lot of rules for yourself and decided everyone will be mad at you unless you dedicate yourself to 1 thing and do it 100% perfectly.

I'm not saying that sometimes ancestors don't bully people into following a certain path, or that gods ask for very special levels of devotion once your relationship gets to a certain point. But I'm also not suspecting that this is the case for you.

It's just that, I dunno. To me it sounds like you're acting like any particular path you take is like locking yourself inside of a monastery to the exclusion of all else, like instead of starting out chill, you're wanting to start out as a devotee initiate ready to take lifelong vows.

Instead of just like, praying to Hermes to help with traffic and then later that week giving your ancestors a meal.

You're saying you don't know how this would look in practice, which makes me worry that you're trying to write a textbook about how to do your practice without ever actually having learned the material.

You can never know what it looks like before you do it.

You are not supposed to able to envision a complete, polished pathway before you put your hiking boots on.

You don't even need to be able to see around the first corner.

Toad charm to cure a cold, veil to limit Miasma. Pray to the ancestors, then to Zeus. I don't see the conflict. And if Apollo gets mad at you for doing your ancestral coffee grind readings because it isn't Greek enough for him, sort that out when it happens.

But wait until it happens before you worry about it.

#answered

[intimidating-fettuccine]

Could we know how it would be like to go on a mission with Sully please?

When you're going on a mission with Sully, he gets SO protective over you. Like, he'll still focus on the mission, but also a majority of his focus is on where you are and if you're safe and sound and able to handle yourself properly. If it's a more relaxed mission, I think Sully can handle working with you pretty easily, but if it's something much more intense and life-threatening, he's going to be a giant ball of nerves the whole time, and I think it would be better that you don't get put on his team for the difficult ones so he's able to focus better and not just be stressed over you.

Sully also tries to act like he's not treating you special when you go on missions together, but it is so obvious to everyone else on the team that he does, in fact, spoil you a lot on missions. If you have to climb something he always rushes up first so he can help you up, he always asks for your opinion the most about mission plans, and he always checks in with you the most to make sure you're feeling alright and you're not too worried. The thing is, he does it 100% subconsciously, he isn't even aware of the fact that he's doing so much for you, and everyone else finds it so cute and hilarious that this asshole of a man gets so soft and caring the second you might be in the slightest bit of danger. He likes to put on a tough guy act, but really, he gets pretty concerned for you on missions and doesn't want you to overdo it.

That's not to say he doesn't think you're capable enough to handle yourself though. He loves watching you at work, loved admiring your skills and abilities on the job. You impress him so much, and he has to remind himself to focus sometimes and stop just staring at you as you handle your portions of every mission. If things do start getting too dangerous, quite honestly, he tells you to fall back and retreat, as he genuinely cannot handle the stress of worrying about you getting too injured or possibly dying out there in the field. He always makes sure to locate you first and check for injuries, and if you sustained any, he knows enough about first aid to insist that he gets you somewhere safe and treats your wounds at least a little bit. Sully might be pretty rigid for the most part, but he loves you more than he thought it was possible to do so, and your health and safety will always be his first concerns.

#creepypasta #creepypasta headcanons #creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta x reader #homicidal liu #homicidal liu x reader #homicidal liu headcanon #homicidal liu headcanons

[merakiui]

ooh, Mera!!! any tips to seduce Jade?

In the context of TMDG (because Jade is so seduced in the fic), I think it boils down to a few key things that will leave Jade absolutely smitten:

✧ have the same crazy energy as him. You're passionate about and obsessed with Floyd (wrong eel in Jade's humble opinion), while (unbeknownst to you) Jade is very infatuated with you. The two of you are so unhealthily obsessed, so in a way it's like a mirror reflection. And Jade likes that sort of energy. You always liven up a room because you're so genuinely, painfully you. Also, he just likes being able to tease you when you're in the middle of monologuing about why Floyd is so perfect lol.

✧ engage in the weird flirt-banter Jade likes to have with you. Is he flirting? Is he threatening? Is he foreshadowing????? Is he plotting something???????? You can never know, but ooooo does it get his blood pumping when you snap back with your own witty retorts. Similarly to how Floyd gets hyped for a fight or a challenge (if he's in the mood), banter leaves Jade an excited wreck, especially if you can't come up with anything good and so you default to: "stupid, sly eel" or "asshole eel" or any insult placed before eel. He thinks you're so cute when you're insulting him.

✧ know little things about him. Though he doesn't like being transparent, he is immensely touched when you remember certain details about him (details he would have thought were easily forgettable because you're so focused on Floyd and everything he is). So when you bring up the mountain lovers club or his interest in mushrooms and you show genuine curiosity for these hobbies of his? Oh, he wants to marry you right now!

✧ you sort of have him wrapped around your finger. He's like a big, scary guard dog who is collared by his overwhelming attraction to you (metaphorically, of course, but then he wouldn't mind it in the literal sense) and if you were to tug on his leash he'd come padding forwards. He's just so whipped for you, and there's something enticing to Jade about this fragile human having so much power over him. He would kill for you, sacrifice everything for you, drop everything and elope with you, carve out his heart to please you. So why do you continue to chase after Floyd? :(

✧ be yourself and don't hold back. Jade likes unfiltered, shameless you. The you who treats failure like it's the end of the world when it was really just one small blunder. The you who is so wrapped up in an uncertain romance. The you who eats his cooking and grades it accordingly, lowering the score when he annoys you out of petty childishness. The you who is so easy to please when he puts on Floyd's voice. Every part of you captivates. Even the sides of you that are ugly and not the healthiest, he loves those just as much.

✧ there's so much more I could write, but just know he is in love with you and doesn't want you to change for the world. <3

#twisted chit chat #forgive me for all the chatter about the fic orz orz #but i really adore this version of jade #he's so down bad T_T it's very cute #this can also apply to jade outside of tmdg hehe #i feel like banter for any version of jade (whether sk or even something like tmdg) he will love it so much #devours it like it's a whale corpse in the coral sea <3 banter is his sustenance

[urlocalnonbinarybastardwrites]

Hey hey! I was wondering if you could do the greasers with a hyperfeminine reader? 🫶🏽

Sureeeeeee pookie

The Gang x Hyperfem! Reader

(Tried to find accurate pics but there’s like none on friggin google- ps I could only find pink but hyperfem doesn’t necessarily mean always pink! And Hyperfem can be an umbrella term for many aesthetics (Lolita, coquette, old money, etc. that help you embrace a youthful look and femininity!)

Ponyboy Curtis

-he sees you sitting under a tree, studying one day

-and he’s like Whoa

-the background is fitting, it’s just begun spring and all the flowers are blooming around you

-quite fitting indeed for your flowy dress with light pastel heels

-he really loves your style

-and loves that you embrace your femininity

-he would try to get you things that he thinks you would like

-he smiles when he sees a pretty fabric that reminds him of you 😊

-he compares you to a lot of similar women he sees on screen with similar style (Marylin Monroe, Audrey Hepburn, etc. maybe not time period accurate but whateverrr)

-“Hey uh Y/n! I saw one of those girls that dressed like you in the movie the other day!”

-absolutely draws you

Johnny Cade

-he thinks you’re stunning

-he really loves your style and how it stands out from most people

-I think fashion wise you two contrast pretty well with you wearing more lacy things and him wearing a jean jacket

-just an aesthetically pleasing couple tbh

-he calls you things like “lovely” “love” “princess”

Sodapop Curtis

-he also adores your style

-you two fit like a key and lock

-I think for even his time period sodapop is the most embracing of his own femininity

-and he loves that you can appreciate yours

-he would let you doll him up for fun

-like putting lace or bows in his jeans and hair

-he shrugs it off whenever the other greasers give him shit for it

-he’s simply above their opinions

Darry Curtis

-he’s stunned when he sees you

-you look as graceful as a swan

-his illusion is quickly destroyed whenever you fall on a rock, right in front of him

-and before you fall he quickly catches you

-and you awkwardly get up, uttering a small thank you with an embarrassed smile

-which he thinks is adorable

-I love you guys yall are such perfect husband and wife vibes

-he loves your outfits and you both are such opposites fashion wise

-💀he throws on whatever is clean

-while you spend thirty minutes deciding what to wear

Dallas Winston

-oh, he hasn’t seen a broad like you since New York

-he thinks you’re amazing

-all dolled up

-you two definitely met when he was catcalling you on the street (why is it always Dallas 💀😭)

-and you know walked up to him, in pretty neat strides despite your heels

-and gave him a hard slap (poor dal I always make y/n slap him)

-(cuz he needs it)

-but anyway he’s kinda like whoa… you’re feisty. Don’t worry, I like that. (bc he would say that 😭)

-and you would roll your eyes at him, giving him a polite hand gesture

-before storming away in your heels

-I don’t even know how he’d manage to date you it would take months of effort

-but once you both are dating you’re pretty cute together, and you try to make him less of an asshole

-(which idk what voodoo you pulled out to make that happen but it eventually works a little)

Two Bit Mathews

-when he sees you his jaw drops to the ground

-he really loves your style

-he touches the lace and various things a lot in admiration

-he shoplifts things for you that he thinks you’ll like

-“Aw, Two! This is so nice! But, where’d ya get it?”

-“Y’know…. Don’t worry ‘bout it, y/n.”

-he makes jokes but their kinda more just about admiring your outfits

-he’s really proud of you

- drinks less when you both are a couple

Steve Randle

-he pretends to not be super impressed and amazed at your style whenever you walk into the gas station

-but he totally is and talks to Sodapop about you way too much

-“Hey, but, did you see that one chick, y/n? With all the pretty clothes and stuff?”

-sodapop makes him talk to you next time you’re at the DX

-you actually think he’s pretty cool and you two hit it off really well

-even if you both have different styles and hobbies you both love learning about eachother

-he remembers all the small things, what perfume you like, what lipgloss is your favorite brand, etc.

#urlocalnonbinarybastardwritesanswers #the outsiders hcs #the outsiders headcanons #two bit mathews #johnny cade #the outsiders #darry curtis #sodapop curtis #steve randle #dallas winston #ponyboy curtis

[flowercrowngods]

Short (trans?) Eddie floaty existential 4am blue glow starry night rambles please

in which eddie is short, steve is a bit existential, and they’re both very soft and in love at 4am | 1.5k

🤍 also on ao3

“Son of a— Steve!” Eddie calls out, his voice somewhere between a whine and a shout. “I can’t believe you hate-crimed me!”

There is a snort behind him, and if Eddie weren’t busy trying to reach the top of the cabinet, all the way in the back, he would be giving the light of his life the most scratching look. As it is, he glared at the top shelf he can barely reach. That one deserves it, too, so it’s a small win at least.

“I what?”

“Oh, don’t act innocent on me now, Harrington, you know what you did!”

Steps are approaching and then there’s a hand at his back, stabilising him but not at all helping. Eddie scowls harder even though he melts a little at the display of affection. If he were to fall — which only happened three times this month, okay? — Steve would be sure to catch him.

“Enlighten me,” the fucker says, and Eddie does stop his movements now to look down at Steve. Oh, how the tables have turned, huh?

“You put the good stuff where I can’t reach it.” He’s not pouting. Eddie Munson doesn’t pout.

Steve smiles up at him, the absolute asshole, and he looks too fucking endeared and amused by the whole situation. Hate crime!

“Eddie, baby, you told me to put it there. You said you wouldn’t smoke for the rest of the week, remember?”

He huffs and crosses his arms in front of his chest, still very far from pouting. “Okay sure, but since when do we believe what I say?”

“What, so now it’s my fault?” Steve is chuckling, his hand still outstretched, resting on Eddie’s side now, so warm and steady that it takes everything in Eddie’s might not to reach out and take it.

“Course it is, Stevie. I never believed myself in the first place, and now we both have to suffer for it. It’s not my fault I’m pocket sized, but it’s your fault that everything here is made for tall people.”

With a huff, he jumps down from the counter, landing beside Steve who immediately reached out to cover the edge of the kitchen table with his hand. Maybe because Eddie bumped into it too many times on his 4am joyrides to the top shelves and cabinets in the kitchen of the Harrington household.

Eddie always notices these little things Steve does to make sure he’s safe, to make sure he doesn’t hurt himself, and it’s really fucking sweet. Sweet enough to make the dramatics melt away as he steps into Steve’s space and leans up on his tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

It instantly earns him a smile and Eddie brushes another kiss to the corner of Steve’s mouth before finally hitting the jackpot and pressing his lips to Steve’s. All craving for some weed is gone now, replaced by the drug that is loving Steve Harrington, surpassed only by the rush that is being loved by Steve Harrington.

They just stand there and kiss for a moment or two, and when Eddie finally pulls back, feeling properly dazed and high, Steve is still smiling, his eyes closed, swaying and leaning into Eddie.

“For the record,” he says, opening his eyes and pressing another kiss to Eddie’s forehead. “I love that you’re pocket sized.”

Eddie’s breath hitches and he’s a little glad that he didn’t get the weed, because this is much better. “You’re easy, Harrington.”

“Very.”

Eddie hums and wraps his arms around Steve’s middle, just hugging his boyfriend for a while. He has a lot of opinions on being short, but the most important one is that Steve’s chin resting on top of his head is one of life’s best treats yet.

“Do you want me to get the stuff?” Steve asks after a while, sounding calm and sleepy and so incredibly gentle that Eddie knows he could get away with anything right about now.

Maybe that’s why he says, “Nah. Maybe tomorrow. I just wanna lie down with you for a bit, okay?”

“For a bit? Babe, it’s almost sunrise.”

“Well then, until sunrise or something. Just. Just wanna be with you.”

Steve’s arms around him tighten and there’s another kiss to the crown of his head. “You’ve got me.”

They make their way outside, cuddling in one of the pool loungers, Eddie’s head resting on Steve’s chest. Another upside to being the short boyfriend — near infinite cuddling opportunities.

“What are you thinking about,” Steve asks after a while and Eddie takes his hand to play with his fingers. Steve lets him. In fact, he loves it when Eddie does that. They both do.

“Cuddling. Infinite cuddling.”

Steve hums and tilts his head to the side so it can touch Eddie’s. “Infinite cuddling sounds like a wonderful idea in theory, but sometimes the best thing about cuddling is knowing you can let go at any time.”

Eddie lifts his head off Steve’s chest and looks at him. Immediately there is a hand in his hair, stroking it behind his ear and then staying there to cradle is face. Gods, who allowed this boy to be so tender, so gentle, so soft?

“You saying you want to get rid of me?”

“No,” Steve smiles, leaning up briefly for a kiss. “But knowing you’d let me go if I needed to is kind of the best thing. It’s what everything revolves around, you know? Knowing you want me to stay but would let me leave. Just to breathe, just for a minute, but you’d let me. You have let me go. And always let me come back.”

“For more cuddles?”

“For more cuddles.” That smile again. Eddie melts again and lies back down on top of Steve, pressing a kiss to his neck, his collarbone, his heart covered by Eddie’s Dio shirt.

“I would, you know?” he says after a while. “Let you leave. Or go. Or whatever. I think I would give you anything you’d ask at this point, pretty boy. And… it’s a bit terrifying.”

“Oh yeah.” Steve sighs a breathy laugh and wraps his free arm around Eddie a little tighter. “It really is. But it’s worth it. You’re worth it, Eds. I can’t stand it a lot of the time, but then I see you climbing the kitchen counter at four in the morning and all I can think is, yeah, that one. That’s the one.”

“The tiny man with the same insomniac tendencies as you?”

“The tiny man with the same insomniac tendencies as me,” Steve agrees, laughing. “Who will ask to just be with me after spending, like, every day together. Because being together at four a.m. is different. I feel like… Like everything is different at four a.m., like the world has fundamentally changed for an hour or so, but you’re still you. And you still want me. And maybe that counts for something.”

Steve always gets like this. He doesn’t even need weed for it like Eddie does, Steve just starts rambling to his heart’s content in the void hours between 3 and 6 a.m. and Eddie loves to listen. He always does.

“Everything.”

“Hm?”

“I think it counts for everything,” Eddie says. “And I’ll always want to just be with you. You’re easy to be with. Don’t know if I’ve told you that before. But you’re, like, the best person. And I never wanna let you go but I would. I’m weirdly glad that you know I would.”

There’s silence for a bit and Eddie closes his eyes against the slowly brightening sky. Soon the world will be painted in blues and Steve will look so pretty, he doesn’t wanna miss it. But he’s getting sleepy. It’s almost five and everything is the heavy kind of calm and safe, the kind of a weighted blanket resting on you. Steve’s hand is still in his hair, running through it, combing his curly mane, leaving a smile on Eddie’s lips.

“And what are you thinking about now, pretty?”

Steve’s hand stops for a second and his heart picks up it’s pace.

“Just thinking that I love you, Eddie Munson.”

Eddie lifts his head again now, looking down at Steve, tracking his pretty eyes, his perfect face, his stupid little wonderful smile.

“Good,” he whispers that. “Keep thinking that.”

Steve’s smile widens and he brushes Eddie’s hair away from his eyes again.

“Don’t think I could stop.”

And Eddie kisses him. Because if he doesn’t, he might explode, and the rest of the world right along with him. He kisses and kisses and kisses Steve Harrington until the world is awake enough for them to finally fall asleep.

#steddie #steddie fic #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #short eddie munson #steve x eddie #eddie x steve #dio words #i am NOT editing this because it is 5am and i wrote this within an hour #new year off to a great start huh?? but at least it’s a soft start #hi poe is this existential and floaty enough? 👀

[pinktom]

Hi, what do you think about the recent rise of tomarry haters who ship bellamort?

I have a feeling this one won’t go over as well as my anti-Tomione post.

However, what the server wants, the server gets. 🐍

If you like Bellamort, if you will be offended by opinions that are anti-Bellamort, do not expand this post.

I am not putting this in the tags; I am not shoving this in anyone’s face. Don't click it. Don't send me pissy anons about it. Unfollow me and move on.

Background context

First of all: a concession. I know every Voldemort-related passage in Harry Potter like the back of my hand. If you don’t think Bellamort can be found in the subtext, you’re either biased or due for another close reading. Unlike Tomione (which almost always depends on a complete fabrication of their personalities) and Tomarry (which requires a significant tone shift from the books), you can easily write Bellamort as an extension of canon. 

I don’t hate Bellamort because it’s nonsense. I hate it because it is not nonsense; it feels very real. Voldemort’s and Bellatrix’s relationship, in the canon text, is that of Master and Servant—and for me personally, any such dynamic between a man and a woman is disgusting and I have absolutely no desire to read it.

Here's some specific icks it gives me.

Fanon Bellatrix is bullshit; her real form is repulsive, whiny, and pitiful

There’s this common fanon misconstruction of Bellatrix that portrays her as a thoughtful femme fatale who enjoys a close, intimate relationship to Voldemort on nearly equal terms. I find this tacky at best.

Really, Bellatrix is a pathetic, sniveling wimp who would crawl around on her hands and knees and bark like a dog if Voldemort asked her to do so. She’s not strong; she’s weak-willed and pathetic. She's the kind of pathetic woman who accompanies a man on his killing spree and kills her own kids for said man’s affection.

This passage from Order of the Phoenix pretty concisely captures their dynamic.

Also, Tomarrymort writers love to make her past love of Voldemort and (*pukes*) it makes my tummy ache

Ever find yourself reading a fascinating Tomarry fic only for—midway in—Voldemort to reveal his true love is Bellatrix?* Or wax poetic about how beautiful she is, how special to him she is?

It's 2024. I immediately close the fic when this happens. If I’m reading a Tomarrymort fic, I don’t give a fuck about Voldemort’s past domestic abuse trysts with the most spineless woman in the entire HP series.

And the kicker is . . . for what? Because Bellatrix proved herself to Voldemort by licking his boot and wiping his asshole? Please do not try and convince me she is a sinister spooky gal, she plainly isn’t. She’s an embarrassing blithering pissant who does not foil any of Voldemort’s traits.  

And PLEASE do not try and convince me she offers Voldemort something Harry doesn't in terms of being an equal partner or someone he respects, because I cannot fathom how the woman who squeals "MASTER MASTER PLEASE I'M SORRY DON'T HURT ME - I'll wash your anus with my tongue, PLEASE master!" is somehow more respectable than brave, upright, dignified Harry.

*I’m NOT referring to a specific fic. I have been in this fandom since 2011, and I have read it dozens of times, on FF and AO3 alike.

Lastly - they're not a pretty picture

I'm just going to say it... you know those people you kinda knew in high school who now post about their kinky sex life on Facebook? The girl who posts "Daddy 🥺 ?" and the dude responds "Yes, kitten?" in the comments? The chick who has no shame in posting her wolf-tail butt plug or joining a bunch of kinkster groups?

The girl who later ends up getting the shit beaten out of her by said repulsive scrote (no shock) and posting about it on Facebook only to repeat the cycle again and again?

That's literally what Bellamort makes me think about. It's not even like it's deeply upsetting so much as it's disappointing: A reminder of the lowest very promising, very beautiful women can get for men who ought to be curb-stomped and thrown in a ditch.

Tbh the best ending for Bellatrix in canon would've been if she disemboweled and slaughtered Voldemort for ruining her fucking life with his ridiculous tacky cult. He's my baby, but he's a vile scrote first, and I wish Bellatrix had realized what a toxic, life-draining narcissistic psychopathic moron he was. But alas, she too was a pathetic worm.

#anti bellamort #shipping wars #server #asks #i have covid and i'm really mean rn #tw domestic abuse #tw brutally mean #tw anti men hate speech

[battle-of-mid]

iwould like to hear your rant about lmk wukong's character assassination. In detail. if possible. please

(takes long drag of cigarette) it really did all start with the show itself coming out. see, after ROTTMNT came out, i don't think we could really expect flying bark to be "faithful" to its IPs and while whether that was a good thing for the TMNT franchise is absolutely something that can be discussed by people that aren't me, it's a whole lot more sensitive when you're handling a show based on a cultural treasure -

LEGO's line of toys dedicated to a sort of journey of the west spinoff is, in my opinion, an objectively good idea. other than boosting sales it feels kind of inevitable considering just how much LNY stuff they'd put out already, you know? to put it simply i don't have any problems with the lego monkie kid IP in concept, just with the way FB decided to run with its execution -- which ended up landing it squarely in "hot mess" territory.

basically - and i promise that this is relevant to wukong specifically, bear with me - i think that the first red flags were the fixation on their rendition of the six-eared macaque: a character that they've changed from being a single-use "evil twin" character that served the original Journey to the West's allegory for enlightenment (ie. that he was a manifestation of SWK's worst impulses) and then immediately fucking died when the situation called for it. he didn't show up for more than one storyline. they retcon a looooot of SWK's actual backstory as detailed by the book itself in order to make room for sadboy LEMH content so the writers could get their shipfix for him and SWK (which is annoying on more than one point, if you remember what I said about the evil twin thing. if you catch my drift. average flying bark moment)

but to put it simply i genuinely think they just made him... way too much of a lazy fucking self absorbed asshole? the beginning of the show has this which feels like a one-off gag but they double down on it later which makes they didn't write sun wukong -- this is after he's supposed to have ascended to victorious-in-strife buddha, mind you, and it ends up feeling less like sun wukong at any point in the storyline and more like... well, goku. from dragon ball super. which is its own, mostly unrelated can of worms in and of itself.

the thing is this is a character that's been used historically as an allegory, as representative of the people, objectively a cultural icon no matter where in china-influenced asia you find yourself (fantastic analysis of the problem with the way LMK pays homage to that allegory here), and also used in reference to, like, diaspora kids. this is a character that baaasically any chinese person with any kind of connection to the culture is going to see themselves in - especially in his reckless identity and subsequent ascension, you know?

and the main problem here is essentially that when you do this with a character that exsits as part of a media franchise... it's fine? it's whatever. people can just skip that. but when you are doing this as an attempt to adapt a piece of historically and culturally important literature - one that is made for children, one that is infinitely more accessible to diaspora children of that culture than any other adaptation that would be directed towards their age demographic, it feels like a punch in the gut. it's a level of disrespect that just really really hurts, all because the people in charge of it feel like they have to flanderize their characters for their fandom or they'll, like, die.

this isn't exactly organized nor is it every thought i have on the matter but basically tldr they forgot they were writing sun wukong and not their oc

[teecupangel]

Hello! I just discovered you recently, dived headfirst into several your fics and am so in love with them. I'm also incredibly grateful because I'm in the middle of putting a house on the market and your fics are saving my sanity. My most recent read is 'Ouverture', and I love bitter, slightly elitist and secretly disdainful Desmond. Now I have so many questions about Unity cannon (that you've cannonballed) if you wouldn't mind just head cannoning some future what if answers?

Does Arno return to France and get caught up in the revolution? Does Des come with and keep out of sight? IS Des considered a traitor by the Paris Assassins? Arno have an opinion on the Parisian Brotherhood? Does he have better Eagle vision since Des trained him? Do Paris Assassins read blue or white to him? Does he meet Elise again? What has become of the de la Serre family?

The French Revolution:

*random rooftop after absurdly flashy physics breaking move that avoided the lookout of five Paris Assassins*

Pierre: "Pisspot."

*arrogant eyebrow game at max and full permission from Des to be an asshole*

Arno: "0uncle Pierre."

Pierre. "Figured. Only one other who could hold eagle vision that easily to evade everyone with that stunt without breaking his neck. He would have kicked me as he flipped over my head."

Much love and thanks! And sorry for the long submission!

Hello! I’m so happy my fics were able to help you during such a hard time and please don't apologize. I love getting submissions and asks, no matter how long or short they are (although I am quite late in answering them TTATT). I hope selling your home is going well!

Okay, so let’s talk about the possible future of Ouverture and A New Way To Do Things in relation to Arno.

Arno will, of course, grow up in the homestead in this one. Unity officially starts 5 years after the end of AC3 when Arno is around 21 years old. Arno returns to France because he actually followed Desmond back to France (while Ratonhnhaké:ton and Clay had to stay behind for the Brotherhood and tells Desmond that they’ll catch up to him instead). Desmond returns because Lafayette requested their aid (he and Lafayette talked a lot during the American Revolutions as two French dudes doing whatever they can) and Desmond agreed to help his ‘motherland’.

This means that Desmond and Arno went back to France without the Parisian Brotherhood’s ‘approval’ so they’re going rogue (although Charlotte gets a visit and she cries because of how much Arno has grown).

Arno now calls Desmond ‘dad’ in this one too although he still calls Charles Dorian ‘father’ and they become embroiled in AC Unity’s plot as well, with Desmond having bad feelings because there’s something in Paris that just makes his skin crawl.

Desmond is sorta in a very precarious position in the Parisian Brotherhood, especially now that Sophie Trenet is a council member. A lot of the council members have a more forgiving stance on Desmond, especially after they hear how he helped Ratonhnhaké:ton take back the ‘colonies’ from the Templars but they’re not necessarily happy that he’s back. Sophie’s the one who is pushing for him to regain his old rank (not that Desmond wants it) though because she remembers him as being a good man and a great Assassin.

Desmond and Arno actually visits Bellec in prison and that’s how they reunite. Well…

That and the cannonball that ‘started’ the prison break…

Arno is officially a member of the American Brotherhood of Assassins (like Desmond) so he’s not thought of as a traitor but more like an outsider. Arno doesn’t mind though because his memory of France felt more like a distant dream. He doesn’t like to go to Versailles though.

Arno’s opinion of the Parisian Brotherhood is pretty much nonexistent. Desmond doesn’t like to talk about them, not even to complain about them. Other than say their ranking system is ridiculously long but Arno is pretty sure Desmond was being sarcastic (he was not).

Because of this, the Parisian Assassins appear as either blue (Bellec and Sophie) or white to him. They’re polite to him but also sorta cagey because he is not one of them as far as the Brotherhood is concern.

He does have a better Eagle Vision, one of the more advanced ones, actually, considering Desmond, Clay and Ratonhnhaké:ton trained him (and that means his Assassin style is a combination of his three instructors). The whole “I see their memories” thing Arno is also theorized by Clay as being a mutation caused by Arno’s close proximity to whatever Charles Dorian was carrying with him before he handed it off to another Assassin then returned to France to get his next (and last) mission. Clay believes that it’s some kind of POE and that it sorta mutated Arno’s Isu genes to be more prevalent in this case because he was still young when he was in it’s area of ‘influence’. Of course, that’s all guesswork and Arno just uses it to get more information.

Arno does meet Élise once more and it’s… well… it’s complicated.

While it’s highly possible that Arno would still hold a torch for Élise during that time, it is also highly possible that she would just be a distant memory, the kind girl whose parents may have had a hand on the death of his father (or so Desmond believed). Hell, if you want to add more drama in that front, it could be that Élise and Arno sees each other as ‘enemies’ this time around, their childhood memories being nothing more than the innocence of children that they could no longer go back to (especially with them no longer having any long history with one another so Arno sees Élise as a Templar gone rogue and Élise sees Arno as just another Assassin). (If you want to make it hurt, have Élise be the one to actually carry a torch for Arno while Arno had already fallen in love or may have already gotten married by the time he returns to Paris. To who? Ellen’s daughter Maria who becomes Arno’s childhood friend in the Davenport Homestead). Also, he’s seen as the older brother of Ratonhnhaké:ton’s children as well so, in many ways, Arno feels more at home at Davenport than he is in Paris while Élise’s father died because he couldn’t get the letter meant to warn him in time and she’s just full of anger and the burning desire for vengeance right now, with no one she can trust at all.

Also, also… Desmond has a reunion of his own to rival Arno’s Templar-connection past.

His aunt…

Madame Flavigny.

(Yeah, that’s right. The only person who knew Desmond as Antoine Faroy and his only living blood relative is a Templar, to be more exact, a Templar from the Radical Faction.)

#so that would be the ouverture sequel #set in ac unity #and then it ends with ratonhnhaké:ton and clay getting to paris #maybe with aveline as well? #or aveline could be acting mentor while they’re away? #anyway the main point is #they get to france to tell desmond #that shay cormac is in france #and has taken over what remains of the parisian rites #and that will be the #unity-rogue sequel XD #assassin's creed #desmond miles #ask and answer #teecup writes/has a plot #fic idea: assassin's creed #arno dorian #elise de la serre #ac fic: ouverture #ac fic series: yew branches

[kazz-brekker]

hotd episode 8 thoughts

boy! this family really never can have a funky good time together without something happening, can they? (i say as a distraction from my immense emotional pain)

rhaenys you may never have been queen of westeros but you are queen to ME.

really liked the bits of daemon and rhaenyra’s life married that we got to see and how comfortable they were with each other. hbo, i’m just saying, but it’s not too late to abandon this whole “adapting the dance of the dragons” idea and just do a 5 season sitcom about the dragonstone household.

wow alicent really has become the westerosi equivalent of a christian housewife but also with girlboss ambitions.

the scenes with the dying viserys made me so sad. rhaenyra trying to talk to her father but he’s too incoherent to understand … introducing him to the grandkids … daemon helping him climb the iron throne … god it really got to me see how much they care about him and how much he was hurting :(

baby aegon iii and viserys ii were really cute though!

no … alicent … please don’t uphold the patriarchy and become complicity in the oppression of women … don’t continue the cycle of abuse begun by others that you now perpetuate…

i am impressed by how quickly this show made my opinion on aegon ii go from “annoying yet entertaining” to “die in a hole you rat bastard.”

congrats to daemon and rhaenyra (and rhaenys!) for raising some much better-adjusted teenagers, definitely liked what we saw of the older versions of the kids.

adult aemond is an absolute menace and i am going to enjoy every single second of his screen time.

jesus christ rhaenyra it’s been SIX YEARS and you still haven’t told rhaenys and corlys their son isn’t dead? please get on that! did love that those two had another scene together at last, though.

the scene where viserys dragged himself to court to sit judgement over the inheritance case was pretty powerful.

damn vaemond velaryon was kind of an ambitious asshole but he really didn’t deserve to die like that. kind of love that daemon was like “talk shit about my wife and you get a sword to the face” though, very in character.

those 30 seconds at the dinner party where everyone was getting along were so bittersweet, it did such a good job of establishing that the whole impending tragedy COULD have been averted if things went differently.

viserys really did need to put his foot down more often and be a stronger king, but it’s also so sad that he just wants his family to get along and love each other and it’s just not going to happen.

helaena honey i am going to rescue you and your ominous prophecies from your terrible husband, you deserve so much better.

the fact that viserys left the room and things immediately went to shit and the younger generation got into a fistfight was peak black comedy, not gonna lie.

the dramatic pause before aemond finished his “strong boys” toast … yeah i love him.

mentally chanting kiss! kiss! kiss! at rhaenyra and alicent as if this could someone how avert all the impending doom.

god, that last scene with alicent and viserys was so good and i am obsessed with how viserys’s obsession with prophecy and the future of his house is actually what dooms it.

PEAK asoiaf vibes to have the prophecy that was supposed to be the duty of the house instead lead to its downfall!

i’m really going to miss paddy considine as viserys, he brought so much depth and complexity to a character who was pretty flat in the book.

i know this whole show has been building up to the dance of the dragons but ohhhhh man am i not ready to see things actually begin in earnest now that the king is dead.

if anyone needs me i will be sitting here trying to process the hour of television i just watched!

#pie says stuff #pie watches hotd #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd spoilers #rhaenyra targaryen #daemon targaryen #viserys targaryen #alicent hightower #aegon ii targaryen #aemond targaryen #rhaenys targaryen #vaemond velaryon #helaena targaryen