#so i need to get it out of my system. no hard feelings or passive aggressive bullshit (hopefully)

[sodaspringz]

sometimes i really want to forget that dsmp existed

[beetlejuicyy]

╭─────────── ♱ · 𓆩🤍𓆪 · ♱ ───────────╮ ╰─────────── ♱ · 𓆩🤍𓆪 · ♱ ───────────╯

Yearning | Shinazugawa Sanemi x reader

Summary: you get very horny after your first mission with Sanemi

Warnings: !nsfw! smut with some plot

Word count: 8,216

Read it on AO3

Notes: I needed to get this out of my system after watching the movie

Masterlist

The most annoying thing about you was that you were friends with Tomioka Giyuu, Sanemi thought as he stole glimpses at you from the corner of his eye. He couldn't stand that guy. The way he looked upon others was always from a superior point of view. The way he talked, rarely and unbothered, was always a favor for anyone who could hear him. You were the same, somewhat worse. On top of all of Tomioka Giyuu's flaws, when you would open your mouth to talk daggers seemed to stab him. You were brutally honest when provoked by him and almost too sure of your own strength. The big difference, however, was that Shinazugawa Sanemi wanted to kill Tomioka for his attitude, while he wanted to fuck you out of it.

He never really knew how to talk to you. Granted, he would never act based on his feelings or let them show in any way. He admired you for your strength as well as your beauty. While he did respect you as one of his fellow Hashira, his eyes would always slip down your body, too weak to resist the way your uniform fit on your curves, the soft skin of your exposed neck or your long hair that always smelled like summer flowers. He would soon fight with himself to stop staring at you, afraid that someone might notice. He would always find moments when he was sure no one was looking, not even you, to see from the distance how bad your injuries were after a mission and he would try to find out if you were fine from the people at the infirmary. But he would never tell you. You rarely ran into each other because of countless missions back to back, both of you being Hashira. You worked on your own most of the time, backed up by lower ranked demon slayers or alongside Tomioka on tougher missions, simply because you got along very well. You and Shinazugawa met occasionally in training, although rather seldom, and during the official meetings at the Ubuyashiki manor. He felt the need to get closer to you, but he didn't have the means to do so. So he resorted to what he knew best, attacking Tomioka indirectly, knowing that you won't miss the chance to step in and try to outsmart him with another witty remark. Most of the words exchanged between the two of you were on a passive-aggressive tone and he was certain that his feelings, buried deep inside his heart, were concealed by the well-known rivalry.

Although he noticed this method was effective in getting your attention, Shinazugawa didn't know exactly to what extent you enjoyed this type of bickering. You too found him annoying. Sometimes he would talk more than needed and he had too good of an opinion about himself. He was cold and senseless sometimes, too focused on the details to be able to see the bigger picture. He wasn’t exactly the nicest person you could stumble upon, but he wasn’t a bad person either. Shinazugawa was hard to approach, intimidating and challenging but most of all you loved getting him angry. Tomioka didn't need anyone stepping up for him, and you didn't do it for your friend's sake anyway. You simply enjoyed to hear Shinazugawa's raspy voice grow in volume and see the anger in his eyes whenever he would feel intimidated, belittled or dismissed. He was hot, you thought one day, appalled, as he ran after Giyuu almost attacking him physically, if it hadn't been for the other Hashira. But you never let it show. You were sure he hated you as much as he hated your friend. You had to be a veritable masochist to have a crush on a guy like him.

Now, despite your reputation as arch enemies, you had been sent on a mission together. It was almost strange to see how well the two of you got along, especially on the battlefield, when you weren't pressured to hide the obvious from other people. You soon noticed that, contrary to his unfriendly nature, Shinazugawa paid a lot of attention to you, conveyed in small gestures.

"Look, the owner said his wife is a healer." He said in the softest voice you ever heard him talk, offering you a small bottle filled with a herbal mixture. You had travelled for a couple of days by that time and stopped at an inn on your way to grab something to eat. When you looked at him questioningly, he looked the other way. "You have been in pain since this morning." And indeed you were feeling some discomfort, altough you never said a word about it, because, before being a demon slayer, you were a woman with a natural body cycle. Maybe he really was a gentleman, although you would have never guessed it, you thought on multiple occasions. Then again, you would remember how everyone saw him and you shook the thought off your mind.

The demon you were after was hard to track. It took a couple of weeks to find its whereabouts, plenty of time for you and Shinazugawa to get comfortable around each other. He was actually sweet, you found yourself thinking as he did his best to maintain a conversation. You liked the sound of his laugh, although it was closer to a low giggle, whenever you tried to crack a joke. You’ve never heard it before but it made your heart flutter a little. Even the silence started to feel comfortable. After a couple of days of trying to find different topics to talk about, you learned a lot about him, although it was only trivial aspects of his life. By now, simply exchanging looks was enough to understand each other.

The fight too place near a small village hidden in the mountains. It was a powerful demon, even though both of you were two of the strongest demon slayers. Shinazugawa’s injuries were worse than yours and he almost lost consciousness by the end of the battle, but you took care of him until the morning, when the people from the village came. They were beyond grateful to you so, in exchange for your services, the head of the village offered to have you stay at the onsen until you regained enough strength for travelling back home.

***

Usually, after a fight, you would sleep like a baby. It was the deepest and most restful sleep that allowed your body to heal properly. No dreams to keep your mind busy, no need to wake up thirsty or any other reason could compromise the sweet moment of relaxation after driving your body to its maximum strength. But this time was different. Maybe because you had spent so much time with Shinazugawa, or maybe those few hours until sunrise while you tended to his injuries were to be blamed. But you had a wet dream. You woke up, confused and well aware of the fact that you were wet. You could still remember all the details, all the positions you imagined yourself in, the way his voice sounded in your ears while grunting and moaning your name, his white hair wet sticking to the back of his neck and his forehead because of sweat, sounds of skin slapping against skin, his palm pressed open just below your navel as he thrusted into you- No. You shook your head, trying to get it out of your mind. You had a crush on him, yes. You found him attractive, yes. You occasionally had dirty thoughts about him. But this was getting out of hand. The worst, still, was that the dream didn’t even help with anything, it only made you aware of how attracted you were to him, how horny he made you feel. It was because you spent so much time together, for sure. Also, the adrenaline of the battle could have this type of side effects in the body often. You could lie to yourself as much as you wanted, but you had never experienced it with anyone else before, you knew that. Now that you were thinking about it, it was around two weeks or so since he gave you that painkiller for your period.

You were ovulating.

The realization left you feeling even more helpless. In any other case, you could hope to fight it, hide it, ignore it. But now, aware of your hormones going crazy inside your body for a few days, you could do nothing about it. It made you feel helpless. The thought of fucking Shinazugawa couldn’t leave your mind. Come to think about it, he was very kind to you these past few weeks. He couldn’t… No. Or maybe there was a small chance he did? Small gestures, kind words, playful and easy going behaviour, all these things were the total opposite of what you expected of him. Could he like you?

***

Despite the blood, sweat and dirt covering your body after fighting a demon, you still smelled like the flowers in summer. Yes, now that his nose was barely touching your shoulder he could fell that it wasn’t only in your hair, the soft and sweet smell was everywhere on your body. Sanemi desperately wanted to open his eyes to see you, but he was too exhausted. The warmth of your body covered him like a thin blanket and he found it in himself to force his hand to grab you by the sleeve. But there was no sleeve because he felt the warm skin of your arm and almost heard the soft coo of your voice when you told him to stay still. Using the last drop of strength that he had, his eyes were obliged to open, even faintly between lashes, to witness your body leaning over his. Above your waist, your body was covered only in your undergarments, hence your bare arm that he was still clinging to. If he hadn’t been covered in blood you could probably see his skin turn to a shade of red, as the silky skin of your chest was only inches away from his face.

Shinazugawa turned around on the futon for the hundredth time. He had been awake for a while now. When he woke up, his body sore and his mind cloudy, the first thing he noticed was that the material around his arm resembled his own uniform. He quickly remembered getting stabbed there, it probably was the deepest wound on his body. So that’s why you were undressed, Shinazugawa thought. Indeed, he hadn’t been hallucinating. You used your own shirt to improvise a tight bandage on his arm in order to reduce blood loss.

Not long after he woke, a girl working at the onsen brought him water and a tray with food. He didn’t have an appetite but munched on it anyway, knowing it will help him build back his strength.

“How is she?” He asked the girl while she was pushing the door closed as she exited theb room.

“Your colleague?” He nodded. He didn’t like the word colleague, it was too formal and too cold for what he wanted you to be. At the same time, he didn’t know how to refer to you. “She’s still asleep, I believe. Thanks to her first aid skills your body is quicker to recover than expected.” Part of him was relieved now that someone confirmed your safety. The last thing he remembered was defeating the demon together, but collapsing to the ground shortly after, losing control over his worn out body. Glimpses of you flashed in Shinazugawa’s memory chaotically. However, your clothes as his bandage was proof enough that they were not just a product of his imagination.

“I need to change these bandages. Bring me some?” The girl bowed and left quickly. She probably had a lot of work to attend to or rather she was scared of him to some extent.

When the girl came back she was not alone but accompanied by the owner of the onsen, whose face Shinazugawa didn’t remember since he was already unconscious when the villagers arrived, and another man who seemed to be a doctor.

“I can handle it myself.” He quickly dismissed them when, after offering his gratitude once again for killing the demon, the owner suggested that the young girl would help him wash up while the doctor checked up on his body. No additional pleas were allowed. The girl left a basin with fresh water and a basket of clean bandages and ointment by the futon and they left the room.

More than anything, Shianzugawa wanted silence. But he couldn’t have it. Now that the mission was fulfilled, there was nothing else to keep his mind busy and distract him from you. Moreover, you would be leaving soon. He loved having you all to himself. And you seemed to like it too, he would think sometimes. You were not as irritating as before and, to his surprise, all the things he found difficult about you turned into qualities that he appreciated. It was only Tomioka’s fault, he mumbled to himself. What he most afraid of was that, once you would be back home, you would go back to spending time with that bastard. All this time you shared would be forgotten and everything would go back to normal.

“Shinazugawa? You’re awake?” Shinazugawa’s bared back was turned to the door as you opened it carefully. He was sitting on the floor, checking some minor wounds. He turned around to look at you, his breath stuck in his throat as he noticed you were wearing only a thin robe loosely tied around the waist. It exposed your chest to a degree he’s never witnessed, granted that your uniform was always buttoned up and covering your breasts entirely.

“Y-yeah.” He quickly found his voice and shifted on the futon, turning to face you. He was only wearing a pair of clean pants. The upper side of his body was covered in bruises or bandages and he was barefoot. “Good job on the mission.” He blurted out, without even thinking about it. He felt pressured to talk, thinking that conversation would distract you from noticing the effect your attire had on him. But you started walking towards him and, with every step, he felt his heart beat faster and faster. His expression was stern and seemingly uninterested, but his eyes alone travelled from your bared calves along the line of your legs until they were completely hidden by the robe, high enough that he expected to see the colour of your panties with every step you took. You didn’t have anything underneath that robe, it was obvious from the way the lose knot around your waist could come undone any minute, from the generous amount of chest that was exposed, from the way one of your sleeves was hanging lower than the other, almost revealing your bare shoulder. Shinazugawa was thirsty. He felt his lips part without control in an awed expression as you crouched down next to him and placed your palm on his forehead. He was thirsty, but water could never quench the kind of thirst he had.

“I was afraid you would catch an infection with all those open wounds. You seem fine.” It was embarrassing how difficult he found it to swallow his own saliva.

“I’m perfectly fine.” He pushed your hand away gently. If you touched him for one more second, he was afraid his heart would burst. He couldn’t look away from you though. There was something about you he had never seen before. And it wasn’t only the way your nipples poked against the thin material of the robe you were wearing, although it was a very compelling sight.

“We're at an onsen. It would be a shame not to take advantage of it.” You said standing up. He would take advantage of you, Shinazugawa though but tried to control himself, given that the bulge growing bigger in his pants couldn’t be controlled. “I just can’t find any towels in my room.” You complained looking around his room. It was such a stupid excuse. Of course there were no towels, they would be by the water, not in every room, so you could grab them on your way. But it was the only idea you could come up with, having your mind clouded by the excitement you felt in your lower belly when you thought about Shinazugawa. It was even harder to act normal when you saw him, shirtless, messy white hair, the muscles on his back flexing as he turned to face you.

“I think you can find them there.” He answered. You turned around on your heels, biting your lip. He looked so good. Your fingers itched to touch all of his scars, on his arms and chest and abdomen and go even lower.

“Why don’t you come with me?” You blurted out.

“We would be in different areas anyway.” He replied. It made sense, usually there were separate spaces for men and women. But that wasn’t enough reason for you, especially not after seeing him in that state. You needed him very badly. At this point, you didn’t even bother to think if the feeling was mutual or if you were making a fool of yourself. You would do anything to ride Shinazugawa’s cock.

“Oh, come on.” Your voice was louder and higher in pitch than you expected. “The building is empty, save the guy at the reception. We’re the only people here.” The idea of getting in the hot water with you left Shinazugawa speechless. He could only imagine what was hiding under that robe and you were giving him the chance to find out.

***

You got in first while he turned around to give you some privacy until your body was covered in the cloudy water. It was great for your tired bodies, soaking in thermal water. But you weren’t here for that. You didn’t even feel the difference in temperature, since your body was already burning with lust.

“Hey, don’t look.” He said, embarrassed, when you gestured for him to come in. You playfully covered your eyes like a child, though peeking between your fingers to see Shinazugawa as he was getting undressed, catching a glimpse of his already hard dick. You quickly moved your fingers to cover your eyes, so he wouldn’t know. But the sight had already done irreversible damage to your mind. He couldn’t help but constantly think about the fact that you were naked under that water. So he tried to keep a decent distance between the two of you, not too big to become awkward but not too small so you couldn’t accidentally touch him and notice his dick was painfully hard. But you would always close the distance between the two of you. You would shift your position all the time, showing him something or pretending you didn’t hear what he was saying. When you moved, the water level would shift with you, revealing more or less of your round breasts, but never all of it.

“It looks so much better.” You said, getting the closest your ever got to him, as you gently touched his arm where you had bandaged it the night before.

“Sleep helps a lot.” He said, aware of the fact that, if you moved one inch closer, you would feel his dick against your belly.

“I tried my best so you wouldn’t get another scar.” You continued in a low, seductive voice that you didn’t know you possessed. Your fingers ran along Shinazugawa’s scarred skin, from his muscular arm up to his shoulder, brushing against his bony clavicle. “You already have so many.” He let out a hot breath as your fingers continued their way on his chest where two long scars crossed each other in an x shape. “But I always thought they’re hot.” Your touch moved even lower, on the scar that was travelling along his abdomen. By now, your hand was already underwater.

“Y/n…” Shinazugawa breathed out your name, almost moaning it. It was torture to him. You could at least say what you wanted from him, straight to his face, without killing him second by second with ghostly touches and promiscuous words. “What are you doing?”

You looked up at him through your lashes, your eyes hungry with lust. It was unbearable for him.

“What do you think I’m doing?” The sarcasm lingering in your languid voice reminded him of all the arguments you usually had. Shinazugawa grabbed you by the chin carefully but firmly enough to force your head back to look up at him. You never thought his rough hands damaged by countless fights with demons could be this gentle.

“I think you’re being desperate.” His lips moved dangerously close to yours, though never touching, as he leaned his face towards yours. “And I’m running out of patience.” His eyes were so demanding that your hand rested just above his navel, not daring to go lower as long as he was forcing you to look at him.

“I could see that.” You mouthed back, obviously referring to his erection.

“Then do something about it.” He muttered between his teeth. You didn’t need anything more. Pressing your body against his, you kissed him roughly and he let you get whatever you wanted for a while. It was almost amusing to Shinazugawa, to see how hungrily your lips pressed against his, how desperate your tongue was to circle with his. The pressure of your flesh against his dick didn’t provide the friction he needed, but it was promising enough. Your hands were all over his body, craving to have no inch left untouched. He grabbed you by the hips, holding you still as you were already standing on your tippy toes to be able to kiss him. Shinazugawa had lost count to how many fantasies he had imagined in his head before, but he was sure he never dared to dream you would be this hungry for him. Your lips soon left his and moved down to leave wet trails on his jaw and along his neck, biting and sucking. You heard him hiss in pain a few times, which only made you even more aroused. Every sound that was coming out of his mouth was so hot, so stimulating that it only made you even more desperate for him.

Shinazugawa let you do as you pleased for a while. After all, it was extremely satisfying to him to have you all over himself. He might have gotten bored though, because one of his hands grabbed you by the hair and forcefully pulled your face away from him. You whined in pain and frustration.

“You’re such a needy whore.” Your lips were swollen and your eyes darkened as you looked back at him. He let go of your hair as he kissed you, arms circled around your waist to keep you as close to him as possible. This time, he was in control and you had no way of regaining dominance as his tongue roughly pushed against your lips, forcing its way inside your mouth. Your breasts were tightly pressed against his chest and you felt the desperate need for friction between your legs. But Shinazugawa’s hands moved down your back, grabbing your ass, fingers digging painfully deep into your flesh. You whimpered against his mouth, but not because of the pain. He had you paralysed now. You couldn’t move your hips against him anymore.

***

You didn’t know how you got out of the water, briefly patted your bodies dry with some towels and put on robes to cover yourselves in case an employee would see you on the hallway. You only remembered Shinazugawa’s tight grip on your hand as he dragged you after him, rushing back to his room. He slammed the sliding door open and allowed you to step in first. You barely let him closed the door, your hands already pulling at his robe that was already undone. He pushed you against the wall, cornering you. There was nowhere to run, his large body covered yours with ease. In a totally unexpected gesture, he brushed his fingers through your damp hair, as if trying to make sure you were really there with him.

You were taken aback by this change in pace and atmosphere. But he hissed in pain and only now did you become aware of the fact that you had been too focused on your own needs, to such an extent that made you forget his body wasn't in such a good condition as your own.

"Shinazugawa?" You called out his name as you gently sat with him on the floor. He snorted at the formal way his surname sounded out of your mouth. The same mouth that was so ready to swallow him whole a few moments ago. "I'm sorry, we can stop if you can't-"

"No!" He quickly dismissed the idea. After years of hidden feelings and wet dreams he was so close to having you. He would not lose the chance.

"But your body is-" You tried brushing the white strands of hair out of his face to see him and your fingers felt the uneven texture of the scar on his forehead.

Shinazugawa didn't bother arguing with you. He simply kissed you again, slower this time, more sensual and intimate. It felt as if the roughness and hunger from before were only the outer layer to something deeper that he wanted to convey to you and you let him have his own pace, although the heat between your legs was aching. He seemed to know that, because he grabbed your hand and guided it down between your legs. You instinctively spread them open, anticipating. Guided by his hand, your fingers slowly rubbed circles against your clit and you moaned against his mouth.

"Touch yourself for me." He said. For a moment, you thought that he meant for you to please yourself because he wasn't able to. But, as he pulled away from you and placed his palms behind him on the wooden floor, leaning back to see you better, you noticed that the brief moment of vulnerability was gone from his eyes. He was demanding, exactly as he sounded. His robe was covering only his arms and shoulders as it fell down at his sides and spilled on the floor, undone, his bared body fully exposed to your eyes. Your eyes took in the sight, with great attention to his throbbing cock that seemed to invite you to touch it. At first, you found it akward and embarrasing, especially feeling the pressure of his eyes watching your every move, eager not to miss one bit of it. But you've done it many times before, you've touched yourself with him on your mind so many times. On top of that, his presence quickly changed from an impediment to a huge turn on. You saw the way he licked his lips as he watched you, flinching at every sound you let out. More than anything you were desperate for his dick that was proudly sticking hard against his lower abdomen like a prize you could get only if you passed this test. So you continued to stimulate yourself.

Shinazugawa was fascinated by you. He was under some kind of spell, eyes focused on your body, taking in every bit of detail. How wet you were becoming, the small mole on your inner left thigh, your exposed neck as your head fell back in pleasure. He touched himself too, placing his palm at the base of his cock, stroking it faintly in order to relieve some of of the tension in his entire body. As much as he couldn't wait to fuck you, something else inside him took even more pleasure from witnessing your filthiest, most sexual self. And you were doing it just for him.

"Say my name. My own name." Shinazugawa's command covered the sound of your mewls. You've done that before as well. Alone, in your room, while everybody slept, you would moan his name as you masturbated. His name, not his surname that you asdressed each other by, the name you couldn't call him by out loud.

"Sanemi." You moaned. You always thought his name was moanable.

"Fuck." He breathed out, as your voice found its way inside his body, driving him closer to orgasm. "Say it again."

"Sanemi." You obliged. With eyes half open you saw him touching himself as well.

"Again." He grunted.

"Sanemi I'm-"

"Don't cum." He warned, figuring out from the way your voice cracked that you were close. You gently hit your head against the wall in frustration, forcing your hand away from your throbbing clit. You were so close. When you looked back at him, he was already sitting on the futon, gesturing for you to come next to him. With shaky legs, you crawled on all fours towards him. He greeted you with another wet kiss, his hand cupping one of your breasts, his thumb running circles around your nipple.

"I want to ride you." You pleaded against his lips.

"Only if you ask nicely." He grinned. Although he was composed and teasing, the way you were so straight forward about your desires made his head spin in exicitement. You gently pushed your palms against his muscular chest and he lightly fell with his back against the futon.

"It wasn't a question." You said as you straddled him.

Shinazugawa watched as you climbed on top of him, biting his lower lip in satisfaction whe he felt your soft plushy tighs press against his hips. He put both his hands under his head, looking at the curves of your body on top of him, at the way your hair was falling over your shoulders, covering only small parts of your breasts. From the first moment he saw you, he felt attracted to your body. But now that he was witnessing it completely naked, in all its beauty, he was sure you had to be a goddess.

He allowed you to do whatever you pleased with him. At first, you only rubbed your folds against his dick lightly, rocking your hips in a slow back and forth motion on top of him. He could feel that you were dripping wet, your juices covering him all over. You placed one hand on his chest for support as you picked up the pace, your cunt finally getting the friction it needed for so long. Shinazugawa moaned in response, stimulated by your movements. The sound was so beautiful to your ears. You were determined to make him more vocal. And you did, as a grunt from deep inside his throat came out when you slowly slided his cock inside your welcoming walls. You took your time, adjusting to his girth. Your eyes were glued to his face, trying to memorize as much of his expression as possible. Lips parted, eyes half closed and cheeks flushed, white hair spilling on the futon like a halo around his head. Your first moves were painfully slow for him. The muscles on his arms were tensed and he seemed like he was putting a lot of effort into keeping his hands to himself and not thursting into you as hard and fast as he needed. But the look of ecstasy on your face as your rolled your hips gradually faster, your breasts bouncing with every move, wet sloppy sounds filling the room in a rapid rhythm and your moans, god especially your loud moans as you used his body to please yourself, all of these were making Shinazugawa feel more than satisfied.

Soon, he had to grab you by the hips because, in your desperation to feel him as deep as possible inside, your movements became chaotic and violent, losing pace and balance. He held you in place, his fingers digging deep into the skin of your hips. Supporting yourself on one arm securely placed on his chest, you managed to find his hand and pushed it back towards your ass. His large hands moved to your back as you guided him, grabbing your ass and pushing your body even more against his cock. The sharp sound of his palm slapping your ass as you bouced up and down his dick echoed in the room, sending a flash of pleasure right to your core and your head fell back in pure pleasure. You moaned loudly, probably the loudest so far, and he felt the consequences of it as your walls tightened around him.

"That's right you're so fucking loud." He said and he slapped your ass again, obtaining the same chain of reactions from you.

Sweat was dripping all over your body and you were running out of breath, but the way his cock felt inside you was addictive. Your hand moved to your clit, feeling like the stimulation wasn't enough to drive you to your orgasm, but Shinazugawa's hand pushed yours away. He laid his palm flat against your belly, pushing against your flesh as his thumb found your clit and provided the additional stimulation you needed. There was a puddle of your fluids forming around the base of his cock, as your hips rose and fell on top of him over and over again. Shinazugawa knew better than spilling his seed inside you. Instead, he concentrated on driving you to your high, noticing how your whole body tightened around him, your muscled tensed and eyes tightly shut, all your senses focused on the way his cock rubbed against your walls hitting your sweet spot over and over and over.

Your moans turned into whimpers and then into uneven breaths as you got closer to the edge. But there was one missing thing to get you there. Intuitively and out of pure erotic instinct, Shinazugawa's hand reached your neck, grabging it between his thumb and index finger, putting enough pressure for you to feel lightly choked. You looked down at him despite your blurry vision, his eyes already locked on yours. You gasped for air while your hips slammed against his uncontrollably. His thumb stimulated your clit and your vision whitened as you finally came, your moan reveberating in the room covering the sound of your bodies. You pressed your hips one last time against his body, taking his lenght as deep as it could go, as you chased every last drop of that numbing pleasure that spread trough every nerve in your body making your legs shake. Your heart was beating at a rapid pace to the brink of failing inside your chest as you removed yourself from him, falling on your back next to him.

With the weight and warmth of your body gone, Shinazugawa took it upon himself to reach his own orgasm. His cock was covered in your juices mixed with precum as he wrapped his fingers around it. He turned to look at you, finding the most arousing sight. Your chest was moving up and down as your lungs filled with air and released it, your brests jiggling slightly with every move. You were covered glistening in sweat, legs still pressed together to find every last bit that was left of that sweet high you had reached. On your hips he could see the marks of his fingers turning purple. But the expression on your face, that was the most rewarding thing for him. Furrowed brows, lips slightly parted, hair sticking to tour temples as you let out soft whimpers. All of this because of his cock. He came quick enough, groaning with his eyes closed, your ravished image still impregnated in his mind.

But it was just the beginning. Although releasing his seed eased some of the tension built up in his body, Shinazugawa was nowhere near done with you. Soon enough you felt his heavy weight over your worn out body and opened your eyes in surprised to look at him, towering over you. His cock was laying on your belly, his balls rounded full with arousal ghosting above your skin.

"I hope you've had your fun." He said, "It's my turn now." The look in his eyes was so animalistic as he spoke, you felt your insides twist in satisfying ache as arousal was building up inside you once again.

You cupped his face with both your hands as you kissed him, hungry for his lips, for his touch, for his throbbing cock again inside you. He groaned against your mouth, one hand finding your breast and grabbing it harshly, the soft plush flesh of it squeezed in his rough hand. You whined in response and then he slapped it, gaining an even louder cry of pain from you. Your legs desperately found his waist and tried to get a hold of them, but he pulled away from you, grabbing you by the thighs and forcing you to turn around on the futon, face down, as he ripped the robe you still had on away from your body. His palm hit your bare ass lightly and you quickly understood the command, rising your hips from the floor and up in the air, supporting your weight on your knees.

"Good girl." He cooed in approval as his hands held you in place.

You were expecting his cock to penetrate you any minute now. Instead, he took his time to take in the view of your waist that curved generously into your hips and ass exposed just for him, as the air of the room felt cold compared to your burning, soaked cunt.

"Sanemi..." You cried out. You couldn't see his face, but the sound your voice whining out his name so pathetically got him even cockier than before and his lips curled in a half grin.

"Hmm?"

"Please..." You felt him so close to you, but not close enough. Your pussy ached for his thick cock but you could't even find some sort of consolation with your ass up, legs unable to come close to each other as his own knees were pushing yours open.

"You're not so bold anymore." You didn't need to see his face, the arrogant tone in his voice said everything you needed to know.

The only thing you could do from that position was push your hips back towards him, in hopes that you'll earn some friction. But his hands stopped you as soon as you moved, holding you in place as he clicked his tongue critically. He leaned over your back, grabbing a fistful of your hair and you felt his cock press against your cunt. It was only a feeble touch but enough to have your eyes roll in stimulation as he pulled you by the hair, forcing you to arch your back.

"If you insist on behaving like a slut I'll treat you like one."

That's exactly what you so desperately wanted and he quickly fulfilled his promise as you felt his dick strech your walls once again. You groaned as he didn't lose any time for you to adjust, instead he just thrust in and out of you with violent and swift movements and you had to place your hands firmly on the futon to resist the force he was pushing into you or else your body would have slipped. But he had full control of your body, one hand on your hips pushing your ass back towards his body as he rammed his dick inside you over and over, the other hand a tight grip on your hair, pulling you towards him. The angle allowed him to hit new and untouched spots inside you, and the stimulation that his aggressive movements provided was numbing all your other senses. You didn't feel the pain in your scalp when he pulled you by the hair, you didn't feel your back aching because of the unnatural way it was bending, you didn't feel the strain on your knees, already overworked from riding him, you didn't feel your arms almost giving up, unable to support your body anymore. You only felt his cock slamming into you, his balls hitting your folds with every move.You could only hear his grunts and pants on top of the wet sound of flesh slapping against flesh relentlessly. Your walls tightened around him as you were slowly getting closer to your second orgasm.

But even though ecstasy was numbing everything else and the only thing you could discern was how good his fat cock felt inside you, your body was bound to break down at some point. And it did, because the hands you used to support the upper half of your body slipped and you fell face down on the pillow. Shinazugawa's reflexes followed suit as his hand let go of your hair and both his muscular arms hugged your waist, holding your body in place while he never stopped pounding into you. Now that he was leaning over your back, arms roughly holding your waist, his face buried in your soft hair, you could clearly hear all the unholy sounds coming out of his mouth close to your ear. He was in pure bliss. Contrary to the wet and sticky state of your bodies and the room that was filled with the smell of sex, your hair still embraced him in a fresh and sweet scent that he had always associated with you. Your fists were grabbing the pillow tightly, toes curling in pure pleasure. You moaned in pain as you felt him sink his teeth into the back of your shoulder, groaning like an animal as his movements became uncontrollable and messy, lacking the rhythm and structure they had before. You desperately forced your hand to move under your belly and up between your legs to help yourself reach your high the second time. Shinazugawa was too far gone, too concentrated on his own plesure and his own instincts to even think about you at this point. He was thrusting inside you brutally, chasing his own orgasm, gutural sounds that resembled an animal more than a human coming out of his throat as his teeth were still sunk into your flesh.

But you came too fast. Because you rushed to touch yourself in addition to his cock stimulating your insides, you reached the second, more violent orgasm. It felt twice as much intense as the first and, if it hadn't been for the pillow that your face was buried into to mute your scream of pleasure, you would have woken up the whole village. Your walls tightened around his cock as you came but he wasn't done yet. Soon, you were overstimulated and crying under him. You couldn't fight back, you couldn't push him away or stop him from fucking your overly sensitive cunt. His whole weight was pushing down on you, his arms holding you immobilized as he used your body as a simple sexual object to get himself off. The pillow soon turned wet with your tears. You didn't even know if he was able to hear your cries over his own grunts.

You knew he was done when he moaned your name as came, his seed spilling on your back. You collapsed alongside him on the futon, his grip around your waist never losening. You felt sore and exhausted and used as you laid on your side with him behind you, hearing his deep breathes as he was starved for air. His arms, still securely wrapped around your waist, pulled you closer as he buried his face in your hair and only now you became aware of how sticky your bodies covered in your mixed juices were. It would be a lie to say you didn't enjoy the sense of safety and calm his warmth gave you. So you remained there, without saying a word, as both of your hearts reached a normal rate and your muscles relaxed, the hazy veil of arousal lifting from both your minds.

"I'm sorry for..." He started but he didn't finish his sentence.

It was fascinating to you how mellow his voice sounded, making it almost impossible to understand that the animalistic sounds from before came out of the same mouth. In response, you gently grabbed one of his hands and brought it to your lips, leaving a soft kiss on his knuckles. The same knuckles that yanked your hair, the same unyielding arm that held your body against your will against him, they were so weak and willing to follow your guidance.

"How...was it?" He sheepishly asked. You giggled while playing with his fingers. For some reason both of you still avoided seeing face to face.

"It was breathtaking." You said and felt him relax behind you, smiling reassured of your praise.

Soon enough your naked bodies started getting cold. He sat up even though you whined in protest like a little child. Only now did you dare to turn around and look at him, standing in the middle of the room completely naked, with his back turned to you. As he moved, your eyes followed his tall figure from the rounded calves to his ass and up his muscular back and wide shoulders, speding a bit too much time on the nape of his neck then fell back along the lines of his defined arms and slender fingers. You bit your lip, enjoying the view a little bit too much. If it hadn't been for the soreness and your already weakened body from slaying a demon a day prior you would have definitely gone for a third time.

"Sanemi?" You called out his name and it felt so natural, so domestic, so right that you wondered how you ever called him by his surname all this time.

"Yeah?" He turned his face to you instinctively, revealing his handsome profile.

"Nothing. I was just practicing." He scrunched his nose at you like a child and turned back, biting his lip because the sound of his name out of your lips still made him somewhat nervous. He came back to you with a bowl of water and some clean cloths that were left untouched when he fixed his bandages before. You were still on your back, finding another spot that stinged with pain every time you tried sitting up.

"No, it's fine I can do it myself." You quickly tried to dismiss him when he sat down next to you, drenching the cloth in water and touching your thigh to get your legs spread. It made you very nervous and somewhat embarrassed, having him clean you up.

"Shh." It was the only sound that left his lips, so gentle and so loving that you had to give up resisting.

He cleaned up your body with care and all you could do was simply stand there and look at him in awe. He helped you sit up, made you turn around, checking if there was anything left when he noticed the blueish marks on your hips. He leaned over your body, placing a soft kiss over the bruised skin like an apology. Your heart skipped a beat and your breath hitched. Butterflies exploded in your stomach and you couldn't take your eyes away from him. He was so handsome, so strikingly beautiful. He seemed to notice that you were staring because he smiled back at you.

"There's another one." You said as you brushed your hair away from your shoulder, turning to the side to show him the marks of his teeth on your skin. You didn't know how it looked but you could feel it swollen and pulsing and you guessed it looked worse than the marks on your hips.

"Ah... I'm sorry for... this." So this is what he wanted to say the first time. As he applied some ointment to your shoulder he couldn't help but notice that sweet flowery scent again.

"Can I ask you something?" He said unsure and you nodded. "I.. I always liked the way you smelled. Is it like a perfume or something?"

"I-I know you like gardenias..." You mumbled sheepishly. It was an old habit that you developed because of him. "I heard Genya talking about it once and I..." He chuckled in response to your voice cracking with embarrassment and you felt your cheeks burning.

"I only like them because they remind me of you."

"We're not very bright, are we?" You said, relieved.

"It is only Tomioka's fault." He rolled his eyes as he grabbed the covers, pulling them over both of your bodies.

"What?"

"If you weren't friends with him maybe you would have been easier to approach." He shrugged.

"Maybe if you wouldn't be so petty and hostile you would have been easier to approach." You spat back. Instead of getting angry like usual, he started laughing. The sound of his honest amused laugh warmed your heart instantly.

"Ah, this really feels like our usual conversations."

***

Tomioka sneezed for the third time in a row. It was beginning to get annoying how his training was interrupted by continuous sneezing. It was probably pollen from the trees.

"Someone must be talking about you." Tanjiro remarked.

╭─────────── ♱ · 𓆩🤍𓆪 · ♱ ───────────╮ ╰─────────── ♱ · 𓆩🤍𓆪 · ♱ ───────────╯

[harmoonix]

Love me like you do

❤️‍🔥(Love astrology observations)❤️‍🔥

Before reading: 🔞

All aspects applying including parallels and contra-parallsls aswell

All charts system applied; Vedic, Sidereal. Tropical etc..

Some of my observations can be 18+

Enjoy the reading ♥️

❤️‍🔥 - Venus in 7th house/Venus in Libra > So romantic, full of tenderness for their partner. They're so cute when they're in love

❤️‍🔥 - Asteroid Bacchus [2063] can indicate pleasure and the way you give/recieve pleasure, in conjunct/sextile/trine with Juno (3) is so hot, you basically are a pleasure machine for eachother and you probably seek for someone who can give you pleasure

❤️‍🔥 - Asteroid Ceres (1) aspecting Juno (especially in harsh aspects) need to nurture their partners or vice versa, they have a high need for intimacy and love and i personally see them hugging eachother in bed 24/7

❤️‍🔥 - Asteroid Groom (5129) in Aries/the 1st house (for those attracted to men) can indicate getting a spouse who can have the same kinks as you and to be very close to you also this bounding is so deep.. (Very hot Chemistry between you two)

❤️‍🔥 - Gemini/Virgo/Mercury in the 8th house = They love being communicative during sex, they may also have very shooting voices

❤️‍🔥 - Eros (433) aspecting Midheaven (MC) = The way you show yourself can be very erotic, and that can attract more people into you + they can really end up working in movies 18+

❤️‍🔥 - Juno Scorpio/Juno in the 8th house = They love Intensity, these natives seek for high intimacy with their partners and offering touches

❤️‍🔥 - Men with Sagittarius Mars/Mars aspecting Jupiter can have an bombastic penis in size, the size can grow unexpected sometimes and you'll wonder...how tf I am riding this now??

❤️‍🔥 - Libra Mars/Mars in the 7th house > They love being undressed during the act, i feel like they can be very ambient in their positions in bed and often switching up a lot

❤️‍🔥 - Pisces 7th house/Neptune 7th > Soo Oohhhh Soo Oohh OBSESSED, they can get literally addicted to their partners + showing that by being clingy

❤️‍🔥 - Venus Parallel Mars or vice versa > They're so hot. So intense, full of energy and those type of people who go for more rounds because they enjoy it so much

❤️‍🔥 - Sun Parallel Venus > They're so cute when they're in love, they can often blush when their specific person is around, and can be lost in their words when they talk

❤️‍🔥 - Mars Parallel Pluto > So hot and magnetic, i feel like they want someone who can dominante them or to just break bed, something in between

❤️‍🔥 - Lilith Parallel Mars/Neptune > They can have many wet dreams, many sexual dreams aswell in away they can day dream about this too

❤️‍🔥 - Moon in Libra natives know how to put feelings and pleasure together, in aspects to Pluto/Venus they can be really intense and want to seem for more love

❤️‍🔥 - Moon in Leo natives know how to praise their partners so they can feel in a good mood too, they may have partners with praise kinks and worshipping kinks too

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

EDGE OF PARADISE

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

❤️‍🔥 - Vertex trine/sextile/conjunct Sun has a big chance of attracting influential people into their lives, especially men

❤️‍🔥 - Scorpio/Pluto in the 10th house have big chances to attract influential people in their lives and often being involved in love scandals (Will you be the next Selena Gomez gurl?)

❤️‍🔥 - Uranus in the 5th/7th house and 2nd house can attract people of the same gender and being attracted into this too, unless is not aspecting Saturn which can turn into a fear to fall for people the same gender as you

❤️‍🔥 - Eros - Mars aspects, go girl give us everything, I know they like it rough&hard like they want to suck the soul out if their partners

❤️‍🔥 - Asteroid Asmodeus [2174] in the 7th house can attract posesive/obsessive partners into their lives but enemies aswell, like girl everyone is obsessed/passive agressive and like the reason is unknown?? (Siri play Obsessed by Mariah Carey)

❤️‍🔥 - If you have Psyche (16) in water signs you may have the need for intimacy aswell, like is something your soul craves

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You're the only thing I wanna touch

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

❤️‍🔥 - Mars - Mercury aspects/Mars parallel Mercury > They have that rough/lil' aggressive voice, omg when they whisper in your ear (eargasm or something 😭👁️👄👁️)

❤️‍🔥 - Venus aspecting Pluto/Venus parallel Pluto > These aspects the most known for being very attractive, their energy/vibe is hot aswell, and they have this magnetic field around that pulls you in

❤️‍🔥- Ascendant aspecting Mars > They're just the type of person to look at because they have a good looking body (men++👄) and yeah, you know their face looks like it needs to be kissed

❤️‍🔥 - Pisces/Taurus/Cancer in the 2nd/3rd house though, omg they have the softest lips?? Like I am kissing a cloud?👄👄 Is so soft and so calming in here

❤️‍🔥 - Mars in the 6th house > Okay so probably natives who have a high drive and thus placement too will crave for sex/intimacy a lot (6th house also being the house for daily activities)...👁️👄👁️

❤️‍🔥 - No cus' Sun/Venus in the 12th house natives are underatted when it comes to such things, 12th house can also indicate intimacy/sex/pleasure to an extent, and let me just say they will be savouring the moments

❤️‍🔥 - To all the natives who have Juno/Groom in the 2nd house, you'll get a spouse who will spoil you so much like is so romantic too (Juno - 3, Groom 5129) (The spoiling doesn't always have to be in material things if you know what I mean😀)

❤️‍🔥 - Asteroid Groom (5129) in Aries Degrees 1°, 13°, 25° they really want someone hot in their lives, this is the Aries energy after all so I guess it can aslo indicate you want an dominant spouse in your life too

❤️‍🔥 - Groom (5129) in Libra Degrees 7°, 19° can have really high chances at attracting an romantic spouse in their lives, someone who can aslo may treat them nicely and cute

❤️‍🔥 - Venus/Mars in the 11th house are not play, they definitely do it either very soft either rough and sometimes can turn into a mix, they give this "we are besties during the day and at night...👁️👄👁️" vibe

❤️‍🔥 - Mars in air houses (3rd, 7th, 11th house) needs talking stimulation, they can be very much attracted by voice/talking may like to talk during the act

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Follow me through the dark

Let me take you past our satellites

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

❤️‍🔥 - Asteroid Lust [4386] in 2nd house/Taurus may like physical contact a lot, everything they are touching is pure to them and they can have a tendency of checking others people body

❤️‍🔥 - Asteroid Lust [4386] in 12th house/Pisces may be the type of person who can end up day dreaming about that person they like, but the thing is these dreams are usually very sexual and can often get lost in their dreams or thinking about them a lot

❤️‍🔥 - Capricorn Venus women don't always go for older men as a type but they rather go for ones who are more mature and stable/+ if they're looking for something serious aswell

❤️‍🔥- Moon - Pluto aspects can end up hating hookup/one night stands, like they want you to be theirs forever not just for one night, they may actually detest such things

❤️‍🔥 - Juno/7th house in Leo/Sun in Leo want to find recognition in their partners, they want to be praised by their partners and be appreciated, these placements are cute when they find healthy love

❤️‍🔥 - Mercury in the 7th house/Mercury in Libra > I love these type of natives for the way they care so much about the people these natives love, their communication style and commitment is on point and always putting others feelings above as a sign that matters for them a lot

❤️‍🔥 - Lust [4386] square/opposite/conjunct Mars, well these people can actually be very sexual or at least to have that sexual energy in them 24/7 even though they can hide it

Guess who's back 😍😍😍!! This biatch is back

I missed Tumblr so I said hmm let me check the app and omg I needed to post something so I had to make a new post 😍 a new theme something a lot of people liked and here we go with this one!!

I hope you all have a really great great great Saturday!!😍 And a very good weekend

H a r m o o n i x

[whenmemorydies]

This needs to get good or go away.

Having watched all of season 3 of The Bear, Carmy's epic spiral in 1x07 The Review makes so much more sense now. Let's take a look.

Recall Sydney's Cola-Braised Short Rib & Risotto dish from 1x06 Ceres, which she asks Carm to try:

Carmy tells Syd the dish, while tremendous, is not ready to be rolled out as part of The Beef's menu:

Now at Eleven Madison Park, where Carmy was CDC before returning back to Chicago to take over The Beef, when Carmy produced a dish that his EC (Joel McHale as psychopath, Chef David Fields) didn't think was ready, he was berated and abused for it:

Carmy would then be made to THROW AWAY the food he had made:

This is because in Chef Field's kitchen, the food needs to get good or go away:

Note: This particular brand of abuse by Chef Fields almost certainly set the stage for the COLOSSAL waste of food we kept seeing in season 3 as Carmy chucked "not perfect" dish after dish into the trash. He was reverting to learned patterns of behaviour picked up under Fields at EMP in his feral pursuit of a star at The Bear.

Alright, so I think we can establish that in Carmy's experience, there's no serving food to patrons where the EC doesn't think that food is ready to go out. Even if this means huge amounts of perfectly edible and probably delicious food gets chucked in the bin.

But what does Sydney do in 1x06 with her tremendous but "not ready" dish of Cola-braised short ribs with risotto, of which she has an extra plate? She sends it out to a patron. Because Sydney Adamu Does. Not. Waste. Food! (a woman after my mother's heart):

She even tells Carmy that she didn't want to waste the food in the next episode, 1x07 The Review, when we find out (along with Sydney) that the patron she gave her dish to was a food critic who wrote a glowing review about The Beef, and made special mention of Syd's dish in particular (note: this is the same review that Syd has stuck to her fridge door in 3x10 Forever):

Now Carmy plays the review and the fact that Sydney's dish made it out of the kitchen off here. He insists "its all good" but this lasts for about a second before he drops this petty, passive-aggressive barb:

And then as most people know by now, the kitchen rapidly descends into chaos when we come to realise that Sydney accidentally left The Beef's online pre-order option open, resulting in a huge number of orders that the crew could not reasonably be expected to fill. While this is happening, Carmy begins to spiral. He starts berating Sydney:

And then we get it, the moment Carmy snaps to EMP, Chef Fields and Michelin Mode:

Of course, Sydney asks the question that we're all thinking:

Because really, the short rib and risotto dish has nothing to do with the pre-order fiasco...but Carm is in the middle of a spiral here.

He is off kilter, triggered by Sydney sending out a dish he deemed was "not ready" and a new system they've tried to implement now blowing up in their faces. When Sydney asks Carmen what her Cola-braised short rib and risotto dish has to do with the pre-order issue, Carm yells at her:

Chef, stop!

Then Sydney does her best to try and manage expo but at this point, Carmy is taking anyone speaking to him as an act of insubordination. His need to regain control is so great at this point in the episode that he blows up at Sydney in a moment that is still hard for me to watch:

As I said at the start of this post, seeing the windows into Carmy's culinary (and familial) ancestry across all 3 seasons of The Bear has contextualised Carmy's breakdown in 1x07 that much better for me. Key to this context is control and agency.

@chaoswillcalmusdown and I talked here about how important a lack of control is in driving much of Carmy's actions, particularly in the context of being locked in the walk-in at the end of season 2. I think this obviously holds for season 1 as well.

Carmy's history of trauma, particularly as the child of an addict, means that he has grown up feeling powerless and fearful in the one place where he was meant to feel safe and secure: his home.

This fear was felt by all the Berzatto kids. In 3x08 Ice Chips, Carm's sister Natalie tells their mother, Donna, that the latter scared all of her children and that this is something Natalie doesn't want for her own unborn child.

In his Al-Anon monologue in 1x08 Braciole, Carm also discloses a number of other instances where he felt powerless, including as an adolescent at school and later in his relationship with his brother Mikey:

Carm wanted desperately for a relationship with his oldest brother but the latter's addiction and mental health issues meant that Carm was kept at a distance. Mikey's death by suicide would have been another foundational trauma for Carmy: an event he could not have controlled at all but, had he been able to, would have tried to change with everything in his power in order to avoid losing the only father figure he's ever really known.

Now, add to all of this: Carmy's experience at EMP working under an Executive Chef who seems to get off on inducing a perpetual state of fear and powerlessness in his staff. We see from Carmy's flashbacks throughout the series that at EMP, he never speaks back to Chef Fields despite the latter's incessant verbal and psychological abuse. The ONLY time we see Carmen challenge Fields is when he makes the decision to sub out his EC's choice of fennel soubise for blood orange in a hamachi dish - a dish that eventually will make its way to Sydney Adamu. But even this challenge by Carmy is oblique, one that doesn't involve direct confrontation of Fields himself. In fact, as far as we know, Fields never finds out about Carm's act of insubordination.

Where folks have experienced repeated or chronic trauma like Carmy has throughout his life, a common coping mechanism is to try and assert control wherever possible. This reflex is an attempt to claw back some of the powerlessness that traumatic incidents have taken away. We've seen Carmy do this most profoundly throughout season 3. But this is also what has been happening all along in the show, including in ep 1x07.

Here at The Beef where Carm was in effect EC, his sous, Sydney, challenged him by sending out a dish he said wasn't ready. She does what he did at EMP but the difference is, here Carmy finds out about it. And then, as the kitchen descends into chaos because of the pre-order fiasco, Carmy ROARS. He doesn't stop to think about how similar Sydney is to him in their rebellions. Or that it makes sense to not waste perfectly good food. Instead, he lets the bear out of its cage in an attempt to scare everyone in his vicinity into submission. He channels the most recent mentor he's had - the one whose abuse would have literally altered Carmy's brain chemistry and behavioural instincts (because thats what trauma does to us) - in order to assert control and avoid, at all costs, that familiar feeling of powerlessness.

All of the above is not to say that Carmy's behaviour in 1x07 (or 3x03 or 3x09 etc) was acceptable. It wasn't. Carmy even recognised this in 1x08 when he apologises to Syd via text:

Later in that same episode, Carmy offers to start The Bear with Sydney: a peace offering and a commitment to their relationship.

We got none of this remorse or show of contrition from Carmy in season 3, which I think has contributed to why the most recent season of The Bear has divided audiences. But given the events of 3x10, I suspect these things are going to come from Carmy in the next season. I also note this interview with co-show runner Joanna Calo where she says (about depicting trauma and recovery on the show):

[I]f you're going to change, its probably temporary [...] or if you do actually change, it takes a while.

[...]

[c]hange is gradual and you do, you go back and forth [...] You make gains in one way but then when its actually tested in another, you realise you actually aren't fixed at all [...] and that felt like a real thing that we knew we wanted to explore.

Watching this interview after season 3 was reassuring. It contextualised a lot of Carmy's behaviour as regression, given his past trauma. This leaves room for the next season of the show to explore what happens after Carmy realises the cost of his regression - on himself and his loved ones. And hopefully we then get more steps forward than backwards in his recovery. Hopefully, we get less perfection (which itself is an attempt at control) and more joyful, loving mess.

[copperbadge]

I've been putting off asking this, because I didn't want to fuck with anyone's process, and I know it can be hard to talk about therapy or hard to do it if you've talked about it, but like...people who are in therapy and feel you're deriving benefit from it, what do you do in it? Not generic stuff like "work on my problems", specifically what do you say and do? What do they do? What is the benefit you feel you get?

The problem I'm having is that it feels like how Catholic friends have talked to me about going to confession as kids before they fully understood how it worked, making stuff up to confess because they hadn't done much to warrant confession. I keep trying to come up with things therapy could help with, stuff to bring to the meetings, and not finding much. My therapist is fine, it's not that she's unhelpful; she does the stuff a therapist is supposed to do, like validating or active listening, but I don't really need validation and I don't feel any benefit from just talking about stuff. I think my access to catharsis is very narrow if it's present at all.

I tried bringing therapy types of problems to her, interpersonal stuff, but most of those I don't really have a say in solving, and the ones that I can influence I generally have already worked on. It feels like roughly 99% of my problems could be solved with money (admittedly more money than I have or probably ever will) and the other 1% aren't...solvable. Like there isn't much a therapist can do about the AC being off for the next three weeks in my building.

But my only other experience of this is when I was a kid and didn't get a say in it, and that generally felt like an obscure form of punishment. And I know people do get something out of it! It's not me trying to take a passive aggressive swipe at therapy. I'm just perplexed as to what I'm meant to be doing to make it useful. I feel like I'm missing the point, but also like maybe I'm just not someone the point was meant for.

I'm not trying to call myself the picture of mental health or anything but like, you can't talk-therapy ADHD into submission, and the other issues aren't under my control. I tried floating the idea of improving my emotional regulation but I suspect this is as good as it gets, because there doesn't seem to be any kind of process or system for fixing that. I don't especially anticipate it or feel better or worse about things after, I just log off the call and get on with fixing dinner. It's a non event other than the copay and an hour spent on Zoom. Which I can spare, I don't mind the money or the time, it's just....why am I doing it?

So, what do you do? Because if I get answers about stuff I'm not doing then I can try that, and if I get answers about stuff I've tried, maybe this just isn't for me. Wouldn't be the first time and won't be the last that I'm not quite built for something that other people find valuable. Although admittedly usually it's a tv show or a video game and not mental health treatment.

[irkimatsu]

NSFW Husk headcanons because I've lost control of my life

-Dude loves a nice ass. Gender and presentation don't matter, if you have a nice round ass he wants it. Sit on his face, let him burrow his nose and tongue into your cheeks. Give him some 69 to really sweeten the deal. Let him fuck you, let him feel those soft cheeks pressed into his waist on every deep thrust... yeah, that's the ticket.

-I still need to figure out exactly how I want to write his dick, just that it's not strictly human, and it's more mammalian than avian. Don't know how far I wanna go with the barbs. I need to go look at some inspiration (read: filthy, filthy furry porn.) It's a good size, can really fuck you up if he wants to.

-He's pretty strictly a top - not too keen on penetration. He's tried it, it doesn't do it for him. Might let you rim him if he's drunk enough, though. He does like giving head regardless of genitalia, but you have to let him set the pace. Try any shit like throatfucking and you're gonna be left with your hand for the rest of the night. (This does not, of course, mean that he's not going to throatfuck you, especially during a good 69 where he's so turned on he can't help but thrust.)

-He's not really into BDSM in general, and he is definitely not into being submissive. He already wasn't into it when he was alive, but after everything he's been through in hell, absolutely not. Do not restrain him, do not talk down to him, and for the love of god don't even suggest pet play. Best case scenario he'll just get pissed off; worst case scenario you're gonna trigger a breakdown. Don't do it.

-That said, he can still be fairly dominant outside of the typical BDSM stereotypes. He'll tie you up if you really want, but that's not the domination he's into; when he thinks about being dominant, he thinks about pinning you down and fucking you fast and rough until you're an overstimulated mess. If the bed isn't slamming into the wall with every thrust, he's not doing it hard enough. Expect lots of loud swearing about how fucking great you're making him feel. He loves dirty talk, clawing, and biting in both directions. Sink your teeth into his shoulder at your own risk, it'll only intensify his need. Definitely have to be careful if you're fucking his demon form; he doesn't want to hurt you, but he'll never quite be used to those claws...

-Even if he's toned down now, he was a lot more sadistic as an Overlord. Loved making bets with prey and then dominating his prize when he won. He'd back off if he other person truly seemed to be distressed, but uncertainty and passivity weren't deterrents for him, and if he could get his prize to start begging for more of his rough treatment, then that was the greatest prize of all. He's not proud of this aspect of himself, which makes him wary about indulging in consensual sadism after his fall, but if you can really make him comfortable and assure him that you want him to be not just rough, but mean about it, then maybe the instinct will kick in again...

-He has a surprising amount of stamina. He may be in his 60's, but being a demon gets rid of all those pesky problems that come with an aging human body. He can go for hours if he really wants it. Given how rough he likes it, you better have the stamina in turn to keep up. This is especially apparent when he gets back into sexual activity after his fall from being an Overlord, since he hasn't had much sex if any at all since then. He is super pent up and it's going to take a few all-nighters for him to get it all out of his system.

-For all of his love of rough, intense sex, the man has a heart, too; you'll make him feel so much better if you warm him up first. Cuddle and kiss him, compliment him, scratch and massage that spot beneath his wings that hits so right. He's happy to return the favor, teasing every inch of you with his mouth and hands until you're begging him to fill you up already. He'll rub his cock against your hole while you're begging, smirking down at your desperate face. The sounds you make when he finally gives you what you want are so satisfying.

-He loves multiple types of compliment during sex. He loves hearing how much you love him, how happy he makes you, how you always want to be with him... and he also loves hearing about how badly you need his huge cock slamming you open. A little ego stroking goes a long way with him. Nothing too cheesy, he finds overly scripted porno dialogue to be a bit of a turnoff, but if you find that sweet spot between earnest and filthy he's all yours.

-He's a big cuddler after sex. He feels incredibly vulnerable when the deed is done, and should not be left alone afterward under any circumstances at risk of permanent emotional damage. Let him take care of you, kissing all the spots he scratched and thanking you for the good time, before falling asleep with his arms and wings wrapped around you. His purrs are loudest during a post-coital cuddle and sleep. It's adorable, but do not mention this to him, ever. He already knows he does it. You do not need bring it up. (This wasn't quite the case when he was an Overlord; the most he could manage then were some halfhearted apologies or compliments on how well they did, depending on how it went, before sending them off so he could go drown his deeply repressed guilt in booze. It wasn't great for him. Not a thing he ever wants to revisit.)

[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

[lastwave]

Harry Du Bois, the skills + DID/OSDD coding

a compilation of most of my thoughts on harry as a system (note: i am system im not just like. pulling stuff out my ass)

1. Structural Dissociation Theory crash course

so for this point i'm going to give you a crash course structural dissociation theory (do not use me as a source for ur knowledge on it this is very like. base level and just to establish context)

structural dissociation states that we all start as multiple different facets, and that as we grow up, these facets all fuse into a cohesive personality. however, in DID/OSDD, ongoing trauma proves it safer to NOT fuse these facets and instead develop dissociative and amnestic barriers between them to varying degrees. these facets cope by developing into individual personalities, and if traumatic events persist, the brain may split more personalities to try and cope with this. this gives us two bits of information that i'm going to use throughout this

1. there is no "original", just alters that host for long periods of time and/or identify with the body the most

2. amnestic & dissociative barriers are fluid. in times of rest, these barriers may start to come down between some alters, but not necessarily all.

**NOTE: these are not hard and fast rules and vary from system to system. it's also vastly different if you have Polyfrag DID or Complex DID. since I don't hc Harry as polyfrag or complex tho, i'm not gonna get into that

2. Harry (the system)

so it's pretty easy to establish that harry has a good handful of childhood trauma. being born in a military hospital + town and growing up there means he probably saw and/or heard a lot of death and sickness. we also know his father left based on the logic passive in the measurehead conversation

we also know from the reaction speed passive when you find out your name that harry was born in a time all these were concerns. most likely, hunger, considering how through the game hunger + eating is an undertone w/ harry

we also have the klaasje half-light passive implying that harry's been raped (might not have occurred during childhood, but still a contributing factor to trauma)

my point being bro has enough childhood trauma and then some to create a system.

we also see a LOT of amnestic barriers between harry and the rest of the skills. besides the obvious not remembering anything, we see the skills remembering things that harry doesn't.

for example, EChem remembers that harry took speed some point recently, while harry himself doesn't

we also see that the skills have distinct personalities and opinions separate from each other. shit we've got a communist (rhetoric) and a fascist (endurance) living in the same fucking body. half light is immediately suspicious of everyone and everything while empathy tries to understand everyone even to their own detriment. and volition and echem need a whole post of their own. thats some pretty strong dissociative barriers

3. Harry (the alter)

to be quite honest with you i think harry as we, the audience, know him is a brand new split, an introject* of an old host that has either fused with another alter or gone dormant. he's trying to fill a different harry du bois's shoes- someone he is fundamentally similar to, but is, at his core, not

*Definition from did-research.org: Introjects are alters that are based off of an outside person or figure. Introjects may or may not see themselves as the individual that they represent.

knowing nothing about yourself, even what you look like, is a common feeling for new splits (in our experience). with the high amnestic barriers separating harry from the rest of the system, it makes sense that the first time he is conscious he is totally lost about his own identity, where he lives, or what his occupation even is.

losing facts about basic reality is probably a dissociative response. things the brain knows (see encyclopedia filling in gaps once given a prompt about something like Fillipe the Conquerer) but doesn't want the new host to know for fear of not being able to function.

4. Certain Alters with Functions

some of the skills fall into alter "archetypes" (not all alters will, even in like. real life systems) and im just gonna list them out here:

ones with subtextual backing:

Volition: Caretaker + Apparent Normal Part

Half-Light: trauma holder

Electro-Chemistry: symptom + trauma holder

Authority: protector

Logic: apparent normal part

ones that are just my headcanons:

Interfacing: little

Endurance: ex-persecutor

Inland Empire: ex-caretaker

here ends my post of articulate thoughts, if u have any like. follow up questions feel free to shoot me an ask. might take me a minute tho

[tarbuchyloewenthal]

i loved and hated dragon age: the veilguard???

apologies for the extended rant i'm about to go on.

i loved being back in thedas after 10 years, and i loved that final scene with solas. the emotional beats hit just right in that moment.

i loved to absolutely annihilate groups of enemies with arcane bomb popping off every five seconds.

i loved almost all of my companions' arcs. they had so many moments of genuine pathos.

yet all these barely made up for my growing frustration throughout the game at the dialogue and dialogue system, the repetitive quest design, and narrative focus.

this game shares pretty much all the features that i hated when i first played mass effect 3 all those years ago. from the opening of the game skipping everything except the most minimal story set up in favor of bombastic cinematics to the extensive use of auto dialogue taking away the feeling that i had control of my player character.

bioware has apparently gotten into the bad habit of thinking the set up at the beginning of a story is unimportant. i hated starting off with a bang in mass effect 3. i hated it in inquisition. and i hate it now in veilguard. to me it feels like narrative malpractice to forgo the most vital part of the story. only getting a slickly animated cutscene to set the scene in the story instead of any actual attempt to know rook and their relationships with varric, harding, and the world at large really put me off.

the large amounts of auto dialogue only exacerbated my frustration. mass effect 1 (and 2 to a slightly lesser extent) made the dialogue wheel and voiced protagonist feel like an actual evolution of their previous dialogue systems in kotor and jade empire (and origins even though that came out after). i felt like i had actual input. conversations flowed like rpg conversations had always flowed. but in veilguard conversations feel way too passive, only needing my input when the game wanted me to add a small dash of emotional flavor to the conversation or the ever present binary choice for major story moments.

that's not to say bioware didn't write in a lot of reactivity. there's an absurd amount of unique dialogue depending on lineage and faction choices, but i, as the player character, never felt like i was in the drivers seat for any of it.

it made my rook feel completely disconnected from the story they were ostensibly the protagonist of, like they manifested into existence mere seconds before showing up to the bar in minrathous.

and the quests, individually well paced, all mainly followed the same formula of walk down a path, grab loot from side paths, fight some enemies, and listen to your companions talk all the while. part of why i like rpgs is the feeling that i'm inhabiting a world that revolves around more than combat and puzzles for loot. even if that's mostly what video game rpgs boil down to at the end of the day, it's the illusion of that which sells me on the game world. when all your quests involve that same formula, it flattens the game world to nothing but a combat arena. which, to be fair, i felt was a problem all the way back in mass effect 2, as well.

i also didn't like how all the lore reveals flatten nearly all the setting's mysteries down to solas and the evanuris. they were really neat in isolation, but taken together they kind of hollowed out the world.

ok, so i'm tiring even myself out by now, so i'll just mention in passing the relentless and unnecessary expository dialogue, as if the writing team didn't trust the cinematics team to get across literally any information (i'm looking at you bellara on the approach to d'meta's crossing).

this rant gives off the impression that i didn't really enjoy veilguard, but i did. it's just that the things it does well are what you expect from bioware, and the things i find issue with have become a bit of an unfortunate pattern from the studio. the game was so good, but it could have been so much better.

[chaoticrushu]

God everything about Lisa is so tragic. Her trigger event, being forced into villainy by Coil, her desperate attempts to find out as much as she can to prevent the end of the world, and her whole relationship with Taylor.

She sees Taylor for the first time and immediately knows she's passively suicidal. She can't let that go, if course she can't, she can't let another Rex happen. So she reaches out, she invites Taylor to join the Undersiders, knowing the whole time Taylor's lying from the start. She gives her a friends/family/a support group, desperately hoping to give Taylor a reason to live. She takes her shopping, hoping to boost Taylor's confidence in herself. She pushes Taylor to go out with Brian, because she knows Brian has the same feelings, and she thinks it'll both help Taylor feel more tied to the group and help make her happier.

And it kinda works. Taylor gains confidence, she's stronger, she's happier.

"I'm sorry," Lisa put her hand on my shoulder. I felt grateful that she wasn’t pulling away or laughing. It was the first time I’d ever really talked about it, and I wasn’t sure I could’ve dealt if she had.

Shell 4.3

It kind of surprised me, but I realized what I was saying was true, so I didn’t even need to worry about tipping Lisa off. A second later, I realized I might have been a little presumptuous.

"I mean, assuming that we are frien—"

"If you finish that sentence,” Lisa warned me, "I'm going to slap you across the head." I felt the heat of a flush in my cheeks and ears. "Yes, Taylor, we’re friends," Brian said.

Shell 4.3

"I don’t know how to say this gracefully," I said. I paused, noting the presence of a hero nearby who’d raised a camera towards me. Whatever, I’d say it anyways. "But you guys mean a lot to me. I’m sorry I didn’t say it before, but I couldn’t without letting on that something was going on. You’re my family, in a way. As lame as it might be, I love you guys."

Drone 23.5

"I know," Grace said, after a pause. "I get that. I get that there’s other reasons. Like the fact that you love those guys and you never loved us. Cool. Makes sense."

"I liked you guys."

"But you didn’t love us.”

"No," I said.

Venom 29.1

By Arc 19, Lisa's sure she succeeded. She averted another Rex, she saved Taylor. Even with how self destructive Taylor is, pushing herself so hard towards a goal, first saving Dinah then saving everyone, throwing herself in dangerous situations one after another, she's in a better state than she was before. But is Lisa?

Taylor and Lisa have somewhat of a distant emotional connection. As much as Lisa has helped Taylor, Taylor can't really do the same to Lisa. Because even when she isn't wearing a mask in a literal sense. she's always wearing one metaphorically, one that she almost never lets slip. So as much as Taylor loves Lisa, she doesn't really know Lisa. She can't. Lisa's given Taylor a support system, but she herself doesn't have one.

"Except you’ve been talking to the heroes, and you’ve had that to help center yourself, figure out where you stand," Tattletale said. "I haven't."

"That’s it? You need to talk to someone?"

"No. That’s not what I’m saying," she said. She sighed. "Yes. Kind of. It’s only part of it. Who the hell am I going to talk to that grasps things on a level I do? Do you really expect me to find a therapist and sit down and not pick him apart faster than he can decipher me?"

"You could talk to me ," I said. "Not when you’re part of the problem, part of what I’d need to work past."

"That’s not fair," I told her.

"No, it isn’t," she admitted."

Scourge 19.7

And that disconnect shows in Taylor's pov. Even in Taylor's head, Lisa is so often thought of as Tattletale, not Lisa. Even as she's eviscerating Taylor on personal level in 30.1, she's still Tattletale, not Lisa. Rachel is almost always Rachel more than Bitch, and I'm pretty sure Aisha is Aisha'd as much as she's Imp'd.

Later in the same chapter, she explains herself, her first time in the whole book being genuine and letting herself be vulnerable.

Me? When you shot Coil, I realized I was done. I’d helped you out of the same trap of despair Rex had been in. Don’t know if the road I helped you down was a good one or a bad, but I’d finished."

"But why be reckless? Why take the risks?"

"Because I did what I had to do, I helped you, and I still feel like the stupid, self-obsessed little child that let her big brother die. It wasn’t conscious, but maybe I felt like I needed to up the stakes. Pull something dramatic. Show that, with these crazy smart capes like Alexandria and Faultline around, I could still be the smartest person in the room."

Scourge 19.7

She's finished her project, she's saved Taylor, whether for good or ill. She's freed herself of Coil. And it didn't fix her; She still bears all that guilt over Rex. Maybe, given time, Taylor could have helped Lisa, returned the favour. But they never had the time, because so soon after this, Taylor is outed, and things escalate, and Taylor is gone. I can't imagine what that did to Lisa, but it I'd guess that it means that her one true friend, probably the only person who even comes close to understanding her, is gone. Of course, she keeps in touch. But the letter she sends, its so impersonal, naught more than a status report. Whereas Brian and Rachel's are emotional and personal, confessions of their feelings. (I love Taylor and Rachel's relationship so much, but that's not the point here.) And when they meet all meet back up before Behemoth, the only thing she says to Taylor is asking her to survive. I think that even though she said she felt like she'd succeeded fixing Taylor, she was still doubting. Taylor is Taylor, I don't think she ever really could have been saved just by who she is. And Lisa could probably tell.

With a touch more seriousness, Tattletale said, "No dying, okay, Skitter?"

"Weaver," I corrected.

"Skitter," she said. "Here, today, you’re Skitter. Consider it a good luck charm. And no dying . I’ll say it as many times as it takes, until it gets through to you."

...

“Just remember,” Tattletale called out, “You’re officially Skitter today. Don’t be a hero. No point to all this shit if you do something brave and get yourself killed.”

Drone 23.5

And it all leads to Khepri. Taylor ruining herself, letting someone alter her brain to such an extent in a desperation to beat Scion. And it kills Lisa

"You couldn’t have made it easy?” Tattletale asked, looking down at it. “Because standing by while you do this… that’s fucking hard . It’s honestly easier if I’m on their side and I’m helping them stop you. If I can blame the fuck-up job Panacea did to your head."

"While I’m saying all this, kiddo, you gotta know I love you. I adore you, warts and all. You saved me, as much as I like to think I saved you. All this stuff I’m bitching about, it’s the same stuff that got us through some pretty hairy shit, and I love you for it as much as I groan about it. You’re brilliant and you’re reckless and you care too much about people in general when I really wish you’d leave things well enough alone and be selfish. But this?"

"Shit ," Tattletale said. "You gotta forgive me, just this once. Because seeing this and knowing what you pulled hurts enough that I gotta say this. This makes me feel really sorry for your dad, because I’m starting to get a sense of what you put him through.

Speck 30.1

Like, god. The tragedy of loving Taylor Hebert, a stubborn, persistent, unyielding person, one who doesn't value herself but will give everything to fight for her friends. For all that Lisa could try and do to save her, for all the happiness she could try and give her, it didn't work. Taylor becomes Khepri, and she loses her forever. I'm don't even know if Lisa knows what happened to Taylor, that she's on another earth, safe with the opportunity for genuine happiness without all the crises, able to be a regular person. Or does she assume Taylor died, maybe at the hands of a cape traumatised and angry and being mind controlled, maybe because of her own shard destroying her?

Does she ever regret trying to fix Taylor? Does she ever think back on it and wonder if Taylor would be better off if she hadn't guided her into villainy?

[websterss]

THOSE EYES  — LUKE PATTERSON

REQUEST: Hi!! So I've seen your account recently and I really would like you to write jatp luke Patterson x reader, when the Reader is always so goofy and childish. So they are sick like they have a very bad fever, and they are very weak and Luke takes care of them, and maybe sings a lullaby to help them sleep by singing to them and rocking them please. 

WARNING(S): um cussing mostly, and fluff

WORD COUNT: 985

PAIRING: Luke Patterson x fem!Reader    

A/N: Hope you enjoy it! ♡ Feedback is always welcomed!

MASTERLIST

“Y/n, I know you’re in there!” Rapid thuds against your window can be heard. The loudness that vibrates through the window shook through your body. You pull the duvet over your head to hopefully muffle the sounds of your annoying friend.

“Come on, let me in!”

“Goaway.” You muffle yelled. Though to your annoyance, it simply slipped your mind that Luke has the ability to poof in and out of places. Perks of being a ghost. “No. I wanna be at peace!” You whine as you sense his presence before you.

“Hello to you too, sunshine.”

“Goaway.” Your voice muffled under your blanket.

“Can’t do that. Julie specifically told me to come and help you around the house since she’s at school.”

“Why!” You kick out the duvet off you. Moving around frantically, part tantrum. “I don’t need a ghost. I need a goddamn miracle-“ You stop feeling clogged up air in your chest causing you to cough. “God I hate being sick.”

“Do you need anything?” Luke walked over, pressing the back of his hand against your warm tempered forehead. “No fever.”

“I just wanna sleep honestly.” You sigh heavily. Turning your head to meet his eyes. “I have this massive migraine that I’ve been trying to cure with ibuprofen for the last couple days, but I stopped because I’m scared of growing an addiction.” You muster a grin, finding the bit hilarious. “Then there’s my congested nose, trying to breathe has been a bitch. I keep waking up in the middle of the night in coughing fits because my lungs can’t get any air.”

“You gotta tell your lungs to work man!”

“I’m trying!” You laugh, heaving a slight bit then feeling the urge to cough again. “This sucks. I don’t even know how I got sick. It’s like all my energy just got drained right out of me. It’s ruined my whole week.” You let your arms fall in defeat by your sides. “I’m sorry, Luke. I know I said I’d be there for the band’s rehearsals but— I barely have the energy to get out of bed these days.” A faint smile paints your face.

“Hey, don’t sweat it okay. Rehearsals will still be there for you to watch after you get better alright? Besides, we can always record what you’ve missed.” Luke sat on the edge next to you. His comfort dissolves the aches and pain that run through your entire system. The mere thought of knowing someone wanting to look after you, gave you hope for a full recovery sooner rather than later. “Though you’re not missing much honestly.”

“Only my social life.” You dismissed passively. “Can’t believe I’m stuck here and you guys are making music. Unfair.”

“Well, if it makes you feel better-” He pointed at your side, activating your flight or fight response. You laughed moving away from his hands, never one to enjoy being tickled. “We’re not really having much luck with coming up with new songs.”

“Now that I found it hard to believe.”

“No seriously, it’s like we ran out of inspiration.”

“Oh come on! You guys seriously haven’t written anything while I’ve been at home sick?”

Luke shrugged. “We’re all missing our muse…” He reached forward to boop you on the nose.

“Please, I’m no muse.” You half heartedly laugh.

“Maybe not the guys, but definitely mine.” He nodded surely.

“Well then, I’m honored.” You reach forward and take a hold of his hand. Twiddling with his fingers. Intertwining and untwining your hand with his. “Any chance I can hear something?” You batted your eyes playfully. A pout full on display. “Would you sing for a poor sick girl?” You force a cough out of your mouth. “A sneak peek of what’s to come?”

“You sure know how to persuade a guy.” Luke smirked.

“What can I say–“ You cough again. “I’m pretty convincing.” Your eyes crinkle, a sleepy haze falls over your tired form.

“Alright sleepy head, I’ll give you something.” He brought his hand up to lightly brush away some flyaway hairs from your eyes. His touch softly lingering. Soothing the slight ache that didn’t want to go away.

“What’s it–“ You yawn big. “called?”

“Well, Julie, the guys, and I haven’t really settled on a name yet, but I think we’re inching closer with Those Eyes.”

“It sounds nice…” You adjust yourself into the bed. Bring the covers up to your chest. The thing about having the flu was that you had the tendency to get shivers here and there, other times hot spells causing you to kick off the covers. A continuous back and forth situation. Right now you were just simply feeling cold. 

“It does. It’s a little slower than any of our other songs, but I think it’ll be a nice touch to the album.”

“Let’s hear it, rockstar.” You hummed. Placing your hands flat over your covered stomach.

“Give me a second.” Luke scoffed humorously. He began making a rhythmic beat on his jean clad thigh, head slowly bobbing as he tried to find his pitch. He took a deep breath and began singing.

“Cause all of the small…things that you do…are what remind me why I fell for you...” His smile grew seeing you start to slip into a deep slumber. Your breathing evening out and becoming slower. He leaned forward, letting his hands caress the side of your cheek gently. His heart fluttering as you subconsciously leaned into his touch. “and when we're apart, and I'm missing you. I close my eyes and all I see is you...and the small things you do.” He leaned back and watched you sleep. His favorite pastime, knowing you were getting rest, and at peace in the comfort of your bedroom. “Sweet dreams, peaches.” Then he was gone in a poof. Silence filling the space, and your sleep unbothered.

[ohtobeleah]

But the fact we know Dot will eventually call Rooster 'Dad' makes my heart swell

Terms of Endearment Masterlist

AAAHHHH my heart just burst inside my chest thinking about this. I feel like it would just slip out the first time, and Bradley would be caught so off guard that he kinda just freezes? But not because he doesn't want to be known as dad, but because you’ve just never spoken about it before or mentioned if you were comfortable with it or if Dot should even be calling Bradley her dad because well, he wasn't biologically.

“You're her father in all the ways that matter though Bradley, so if she's comfortable enough with you to call you dad then I'm okay with it too.” You barely blink after Bradley brings it up. Dot had called him dad at the kindergarten pick-up. She’d come racing out with a drawing she had done just for him, Like she’d done in daycare a million times before. Although this time she’d come racing up to him, jumped into his arms, and squealed two words Rooster knew he’d never forget and would never stop hearing in his dreams.

“Hi Dad!!”

“Okay, well good chat babe.” Bradleys just pressing his lips together and nodding softly, hoping that it wasn't just a one time thing. It's not. Dot calls Bradley dad whenever she isn't calling him Rooster, which had replaced Tooster a few months ago because her speech therapy had actually been working much to Bradleys shock horror. He missed Tooster.

But as Odette gets older, her attitude evolves and when she's fifteen? The spitting image of her mother and a pain in the ass, Dot is calling her uncle Jake to come pick her up from a house party she’d snuck out to attend. Only the cops had shown up and she high tailed it out of there so fast she ended up down at the beach crying. Jake doesnt come and get her, he rings Bradley who's jumping out of bed so fast he doesn't even put shorts on, boxers will just have to do.

“You’re not even my real dad!” She's yelling, a sobbing mess in the passenger seat of Bradleys Bronco, he’d just finished giving her the third degree but told her if she’s gonna do this type of stuff she has to tell him because he just wants her to be safe. “Where do you get off telling me what to do?” And Bradley hates himself for it because he knows it's not good for the Bronco but he's pulling over on the side of the road and slamming on his brakes so hard it sends both him and Odette forward for a moment before their backs hit the seats again.

“Listen here kid–” Bradleys gritting his teeth, clenching his jaw and pointing his index finger at the fifteen year old whos sitting next to him with alcohol running though her system and he fucking knows she high as a kite just by the red in her eyes. “I may not be your biological dad? But I'm here aren't I?” Rooster points out the elephant in the room. “Ive changed my fair fucking share of shitty dippers and I held your hand while I taught you how to rollerskate and ride a bike and I mashed your stupid bananas just so you could throw them in my face anyway.” Dot was dumbfounded, Bradley had never raised his voice at her like this but someone had to smack some sense into this kid before it was too late. “I pay half your school tuition and I make sure you don’t starve to death whenever your mothers working late and need I remind you I’m your legal goddamn guardian, your last name is Bradshaw! So no–I’m not your ‘real dad’ but I don’t need you giving me shit when I’m here and always have been here and always will be here and that deadbeat dickhead isnt and never fucking was.”

It’s silent for a moment while Odette just takes in what the fuck just happened—usually Bradley was pretty passive, never one to raise his voice. But she’d clearly upset him. He’s putting the Bronco into gear again, shifting the gear stick in frustration as he pulls back onto the main road cautiously—his attention now back on the road as he whips the steering wheel around with one hand.

“Your mother would be beside herself if something happened to you kid, so just do me a favour here? and tell me where you’re going, no questions asked.” Again, Roosters met with silence as the fifteen year old just tries to process everything Bradley had just said when her head is spinning and she can’t tell if her fingers were real or not.

“Do you reckon he knew I was defective?” Dots letting her head rest back against the seat as she tries to hide her tears while looking out the window. “That’s why he didn’t want me?” Odette Bradshaw was too young to remember what you’d been through to keep her safe, let alone know why her biological dad wasn’t in the picture.

“You aren’t defective Dot—“ Roosters sighing, he’s still fucking pissed but he can sympathise. “He just isn’t a good person, it was never you.” If there was a conversation Bradley Bradshaw knew not to start without your permission it was the topic of Dots biological father. “But I love you? Isn’t that enough?”

“Please—“ Odette scoffing, picking at her cuticles till they started to bleed a little. Huh, guess they are real after all. “You love mum and you love Riley and you love Nick—“ She’s pausing, her bottom lip quivering as she turned to look at Rooster. “But I was just the package deal.”

“You have no idea how much I love you kid—“ Bradley’s chuckling to himself as he flicks the indicator on. “You’re my daughter, end of story.”

“Yeah but like, you don’t have a choice?” Bradley could tell by the way Dot was slurring her words that she was gonna be sick by the time they pulled into the drive.

“No I don’t have a choice with Riley and Nick—“ Rooster explained. “Because I created them, I have to love them regardless, but you? I choose to love you and I choose to put up with your recklessness and I choose to get up in the middle of the night to come get your drunk ass because I love you and I choose to love you.”

“Really?”

“If you throw up in the car I may have to re-evaluate but yeah kid, you’re stuck with the ‘not real’ dad for life.” By the time Rooster is pulling into the drive your standing at the front door in your dressing gown, arms crossed—glasses on, looking all kinds of angry.

“Oh fuck she looks pissed—“ Dots groaning all the while Rooster is laughing.

“Hey you wanna be a rebel you gotta own up to the consequences of your own actions.”

“Please don’t tell her I’m high—“

“I’m not gonna tell her shit are you kidding me?” Rooster raises his eyebrows in utter disbelief. “Im not suicidal, you’re gonna tell her yourself.”

“Dad!” Dots pleading, begging Rooster to help her out. He thinks it’s hilarious, laughing as he watches you march down the three patio stairs.

“Oh so now it’s dad when you want a bodyguard huh?”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~**~

Tags: @a-serene-place-to-be @lilyevanswhore @thescarletknight2014 @blindedbythelightt t @averyhotchner @emma8895eb @blairfox04 @caitsymichelle13 @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo @teacupsandtopgun @aemondssiut @feltonswifesworld87 @akalei349 @notjustsomeblonde @americaarse

[saturdaysky]

Midst s2e1: Shelter

Imelda!! And a LOT of blaringly evil music. Very subtle.

Saskia! She's trying so hard to save people

Oh it must be PHINEAS knocking on the door; he'd be the most interesting option- IT IS! Will she save him from the tearror?

haha. nah. get fucked phineas

"Can I help?" Phineas is Struggling

The Faster He Moves, The Less He Can Ponder: The Phineas Thatch Story

"only someone who has spent his free time doing compulsive chin-ups could catch up to that car" also the phineas thatch story

I wonder if his very shiny, glowing mace is going to attract a Blinding once he's in the Fold

LARK IS IN THE MAIL CAR! I LOVE IT. she totally would be.

Midst s2e2: Ascendancy

"There's a whole economy they have to save! ........And people, too" The Trust Story

We're on the Consector's ship! I want to hear what Imelda and Spahr are doing.

Ahhh, Spahr is doing his job as Beacon of Confidence! "It doesn't matter what's going on inside his head. No one needs to see that. But WE can – and it's bad in there." I love liars

Imelda is such a smooth operator. Of everyone we've seen so far, I think I'd hate to have her as my enemy the most

OHOHO Spahr doesn't like that she sent Phineas to rustle up the refugees! He seems to have complicated investment in Phineas, but he's also (seemingly) at home in his own role of Golden Boy. I wonder which bugs him more – how poorly it reflects on his company or how it brought out failure in Phineas?

"clearly [imelda] was a menace at debate club" she ABSOLUTELY must have been for how easily she turns Jonas' recrimination back on him. Child's play for the Imeldas of the world

I bet Imelda reads the entire EULA for every videogame she installs

"...every mention of Phineas' name sends a potent mixture of guilt and anger and worry through his mind. He didn't WANT to leave Phineas behind. If Phineas hadn't raced off like a man possessed [...] he would have gone against Imelda's wishes and brought him back with them on the ship. Who knows what's going to happen to him down there on Midst, now that- He can't think about that." We finally get insight into Jonas Spahr's mind and it is TASTY and FULL OF CONFLICTS

"He does not feel Valorous in this moment, and it's not something that can be quantified, and that makes him extremely uncomfortable." TASTY and FULL OF CONFLICTS

I do appreciate how thoroughly unimpressed Imelda is with Spahr. I'm very curious what would actually get to her. She's seemed comfortably situated in pretty much all social interactions we've seen her in! Hardly the "mere Notary" that Spahr dismisses her as. They're both really enmeshed in this system, but she seems like she's actively operating the levers of it, whereas I've gotten the sense Spahr is more passive about his role in it

"Mr. Weepe spiders his way over to Imelda and Spahr" I do adore creative terms for movement like this

Betrayal, or: How I Learned To Start Worrying And Love The Surprise Political Role My Scheming Got Me Into (the Moc Weepe story)

[sillyfanatic]

It’s my birthday. Have a pirate sonadow blurb 🫡

-

He doesn’t think there’s another feeling like it – the sun warming your face, the salty air carried around by a soft breeze – it’s almost like heaven.

Shadow relishes in the feeling of the sunlight on his fur, a warmth unlike any other; it had always felt as though it was an embrace from the sky itself.

The wind picked up as they sailed through the day, their destination unknown. The ship was fully stocked, and she had been well maintained too. The crew was happy, they’d gotten to stretch their legs on the land. It had been an opportunity for some to be alone, the others choosing to socialize with anyone that lived outside of the boat.

There was no place to go, no one awaiting their arrival. It was a moment in-between, one that was sure to leave as fast as it had come.

Sighing, Shadow signaled another crew member to take the wheel, allowing him to store himself away in his cabin.

He was glad to have a moment of rest, but his years of surviving off scraps had left his nervous system a wreck: he was unable to “relax” as it were, always needing to do something useful with his time.

As he stepped into his cabin, he tried to shake the feeling that crept bellow his stomach.

He eyed the bed.

You should lay down.

And yet his desk called to him;

You should make yourself useful. Do not waste your time, you know better than to do something foolish like that.

Huffing, the hedgehog made his way to his rather empty working surface. It wouldn’t stay like this for very long – there was always work to do, something to check off the never-ending list.

And so he started.

On everything and anything, Shadow kept himself busy. He charted courses, logged in progress, assured everything was up-to-date and stocked to its maximum capacity.

He read and wrote, turned away from the sun and the salty air, he found ways to make himself busy. To make use of his time.

He did so until there was a knock at the door. “Come in.” He grunted, that little voice in his head trying to tell him to ignore the knock, the distraction.

Behind the wooden door appeared a familiar shade of blue – trouble in the form of a hedgehog.

“Sonic.” He greeted, rather passively, as he drew up some old paperwork he’d meant to organize many moons ago.

“Captain.” The other said in return, nodding his head with a little smile. Said captain glanced at his crewmate, a little dip in his brow – curiosity.

“Out with it.” He said, though it wasn’t harsh. He knew Sonic well enough to know that he’d not come here for nothing, and the longer he stayed, the less work Shadow would get done.

“Can I ask you something?”

“I suppose.”

Taking a few steps forward, the blue hedgehog stood at the front of his captain’s desk, casting a shadow onto his paperwork. “Why’re you in here?” He tilted his head as he spoke.

“Working.” Was the simple answer, an incomplete one.

“I see that, but-“ He took a breath, pouting for a second as he thought. “Forgive my rudeness here…” Another little pause, as if he was hesitant to continue. Still, ever the risk-taker, he proceeded: “There isn’t really any work to do. You shouldn’t be working.”

“Pardon?” He crossed his arms over his chest.

“Well, you’ve been working hard for weeks now, and… you have to admit it, there’s nothing to do.”

“Tcht.” He had to force himself to not roll his eyes at the other. “There’s always something to do.”

“I mean, if you think that way, yeah, there’s always something to do.” He shrugged his shoulders, soft smile lining his lips. “But thinking that way’ll kill ya.”

“Oh, don’t be-“

But before he could give into his annoyance, the dark hedgehog heard his words turn to muffling as a hand came down to stop his speech.

“Shadow.” The other spoke, eyes locking with his. A crew member shouldn’t be so familiar with their captain. And a captain should never allow it, should never encourage it. And yet, Shadow seemed to do both those things. “It’s a beautiful day, there is nothing to do. You should enjoy it.” The hand was removed, allowing him to respond.

He opened his mouth to… refuse? To yell at Sonic to leave? To ask him how he dared speak to his captain in this way?

To accept?

The choice was made for him – before he knew what to do, he’d been dragged onto the deck, gloved hands linked to strong blue arms tugging him across the ship.

It wasn’t long before they were still, watching the ocean from behind the strong wooden railing of their ship.

His every instinct told him to leave.

But the life in Sonic’s eyes begged him to stay.

How could he ever refuse such a thing?

As they took in the salty air, they filled the quietness of the day with banter, their laughter lost to the horizon.

And Shadow thought this was better than the sea breeze and the sun - Sonic was better than the sea breeze and the sun. He was as rowdy and free as the ocean, as strong and reliable as the sails that pushed them through it. And as the captain gazed upon his crew mate he knew that this was no ordinary friendship, that this was a gem in an empty and vast sea, one that only came around once in a lifetime.

He’s be a fool not to seize the opportunity.

-

A/N

Yoooooo crimson part two ??!!;!;;!;! After almost 2 years ,??:?!. I haven’t named this but I’ll post it on ao3 :3 hope y’all enjoy I am RUSTY !

<- previous part

[drdemonprince]

Hey Doc, any advice on how to determine at what point something crosses the line from me struggling with nueroconforming communication and becomes discrimination?

Context:

I'm out trans at work but have not disclosed my autism. I am constantly getting tone-policed and told I don't communicate well. I keep implementing feedback and communicating as clearly as I can with the criteria I am given, and I keep getting ignored.

When I'm blunt I'm told I am being harsh and need to be softer. When I'm soft I'm told I need to be more blunt to get my point across. When I'm detailed in asking for something I'm told I need to be more brief if I want people to actually read my requests. When I'm brief my requests are ignored entirely and unless I produce screenshots or email chains I'm told I never asked at all. ETC. No matter what I get ignored until the minor issue I was flagging becomes a huge emergency, and then I am asked why I did not say anything sooner.

While this pattern of being ignored has happened to me many times at past workplaces, there were never complaints about my communication skills when I was closeted and boymoding, people just admitted they ignored me and it was their fault. However this is with a new company than the one I worked at before I was out so I'm having a hard time telling if I'm being fucked with for being trans or if this is just the "normal" 'tism office experience but the blame is being shifted to me at this new place. I want to take feedback and learn to be a clearer communicator but starting to feel like my communication is not the issue.

Note: this is not a sexism thing because I have two coworkers and one supervisor who are cis women that do not have this problem, everyone listens to them.

Thanks so much, been pulling my hair out over this for a year now and feel like I'm going crazy.

This is a very, very common experience for trans femme people -- and it is absolutely caused by transmisogyny. I have noticed that trans women truly cannot win. When they explain information carefully to try and educate others, they are accused of being condescending, inaccessible, and difficult to understand. When they cease trying to be heard by people who willfully refuse to hear them, they get criticized for not being approachable or a team player. They're penalized for assertiveness, being told that it's too masculine, and then if they're passive, they get completely ignored.

You are not crazy. You are not making the wrong choice or communicating poorly. You are being targeted by a pervasive systemic bias, and there's probably very little that you could do to make it not happen to you.

A friend of mine once told me that when they were in kind of an awkward-feeling phase of their transition, people suddenly stopped laughing at their jokes. Cashiers, coworkers, random acquaintances at parties, and other people they had easily charmed in the past would suddenly react as if they were not there. Instead of even acknowledging their remarks, my friend was met with a completely neutral stone-faced expression.

For my friend, this phase eventually dissipated and their transition progressed and they arrived at a place where they felt more comfortable and other people found them easier to read by binary, cissexist norms. They still had to deal with sexism in their highly male-dominated workplace, but after a certain point, they became an acknowledgeable human again.

This wasn't about passing as cis, not exactly anyway, because my friend actually never passed as cis ever in their life, not even before their transition. But it was about legibility and their social positioning as a trans femme. When their transition was obviously a thing that was happening but which cis people didn't know how to read or respect, my friend dealt with the full force of transphobic prejudice, and it did ebb a bit once they arrived at a place where they were both more comfortable in themselves, and (probably more importantly, unfortunately) other people were more comfortable with them. The best way I can explain it, from what they told me, was that it was a combination of transmisogyny and hatred of nonbinary and gender-nonconforming people.

It was horrific and unfair that they had to pass through that, and of course many nonbinary and trans femme people live in that area of dehumanization and isolation for all of their lives. But I felt that was a worthwhile anecdote to add, because in some ways it has some parallels to what is happening to you. It might be that gradually people start treating you better, in line with more everyday workplace sexism, as I've witnessed many trans femme people eventually get professionally slotted into a more collectively accepted feminine role after being disrespected for many months or even years. But it does not always happen either, and even when it does, it was after enduring a ton of abuse and learning how tentative people's acceptance always really was -- and there's no unknowing that and unliving it once you have.

I think the workplace culture that you're in is treating you in an unacceptable way, and that you've already tried far more than you should have to in trying to make yourself legible to them. I don't have high hopes that anything you do could have the power to shift this toxically transmisogynistic culture. It's not how you are communicating, it's not how you look, it's not because you're Autistic, it's not because you're a woman -- it's because they are transmisogynistic and are penalizing you for their discomfort and lack of communication skills.

You can, I think, absolve yourself of any feelings of responsibility for managing how other people react to you. Hope can sometimes be a poison that we keep drinking over and over again, believing that we have control over whether or not it will harm us. It's okay to accept instead that nothing good will come of drawing from that well, and choosing not to imbibe it.

The choice for you, then, is how best to survive in an environment where you are treated this way. What can you do to document that you are performing the work as asked? Can you request examples or templates of 'correctly' done work, or explanations, so that you can point out that you are meeting expectations as they have been outlined? Are there people at work who have been treated unfairly too, whom you can communicate with?

(Transmisogyny, I have noticed, often parallels anti-Blackness in certain mechanisms that it uses. Many Black people are accused of being "confusing" to understand when they try to explain basic experiences of bias, or are seen as too "hostile" in similar ways, particularly Black women, and sometimes community can be built along those or other lines. If you have a union, I would certainly consider speaking to union leadership about this if you trust them. Be careful in how you go about agitating against pervasive problems like these at work -- the messenger is frequently punished. But, you might find some solace and some possibility of a culture change in the long-term if it is fought for alongside comrades rather than alone.)

Realistically, you will probably need to build an escape route for yourself. Whether that's by psychologically detaching from your workplace as much as possible, letting them fail for having not listened to you, and finding your belonging elsewhere, or whether that's by finding another job or quitting is for you to decide. I wish the options were better, but I think taking honest stock of what the problem is and accepting that it's not a social dynamic that you have the power to correct can be clarifying, at least. I hope people with similar experiences will sound off in the comments with advice or validation.

Best of luck, and I'm so sorry this is happening. Please keep me updated on what ends up working best for you.

[antigonick]

hey hey pauline, how do you manage to read so Much? im relieved that my uni syllabi force me to read, but also resent the fact that well. i don’t read much because of those syllabi either.

i realize that the algorithmic internet and burnout have smoothed my brain and i need to work on putting the wrinkles back but MAN. i miss being curious, or rather, being able to effectively and patiently explore that curiosity. art and learning are everywhere and i have to have faith that this is a relearnable skill (!!!!) but. yk. woeee is meee i love books when did they get so difficult

I don't read nearly enough anymore either. I do write a lot more, so I guess that's a plus, but reading-wise I'm in the fucking pit with no end in sight. I finished my PhD a year and a half ago and I don't think I've read more than... five? Books for fun since then? I'm curious, I'm excited, I buy books, but I find myself putting them down and not finishing them; those that are useful for my research, my translation work or the lessons I create I treat emptily and efficiently, as academics do, focusing on the parts I need instead of engaging with the whole, which is frustrating and feels empty because a text is a system and I'm necessarily missing out if I pick and choose. As you say for your syllabi—I'm almost relieved to have had mandatory reading for my studies this year because I simply had to read this shit, and I loved doing it, and I was so relieved to see I could still do it, but I only managed it by sticking to hard deadlines, giving myself rigid reading timeslots, page-goals, etc. You have to finish this by the end of the week—today you must read 50 pages and you're not moving your ass off this chair until you reach it. That's the only solution I can give you, and that helps me, since after a day of work I end up reaching for passive brain-off activities instead of books if I don't discipline myself. Let go of the resentment and take everything you can from what you do manage to read. I don't know how sustainable that is either, considering this all speaks of burnout but crawling out of the burnout by making reading a task is an easy slide into making it even more of a chore. My other working alternative has been to pick up books I don't care much about but are entertaining all the same—no pressure to engage with nuanced underlayers, with complex stylistic devices, no expectations and thoughtful critique, just fast-food thriller or horror or crime books that coax me into at least reading spontaneously and show to myself that I can finish a book by choice. Sometimes. Oh, and shorts—one poem a day if you can, one poem a week if you forget. I'm thinking of coming back to audio books too—can't take notes on them, which I dislike, but in transport and on walks it might be a better alternative than nothing.

Not sure this answer is anything else than a bummer BUT. Yeah. I hope some of those work for you ❤️