#viral video confrontation

[etfrin]

⤷❝The Study | Coriolanus Snow❞ˎˊ-

⇢☾Warning: NSFW | riding, toxic relationship, arranged marriage, mentions of cheating (no actual cheating occurs), riding, dom sub undertones, degradation (he calls you a slut once), hair pulling, edging if you squint, crying, pinv sex, unprotected sex (wrap it dumbfucks), creampie, dry humping, clothed sex (you were still wearing a dress) | lmk if I forgot anything!

⇢☾Pairing: young president! Coriolanus Snow x fem! Reader

⇢☾Summary: A video of you flirting with an elitist goes viral and Snow calls you to his study to confront you about it and it ends up in sexy times ;)

⇢☾A/N: btw for those who doesn't get why Snow asked reader to mark him, it's to show the Capitol that despite rumors, they are actually very close. And uhmm I hope you guys like this!

< masterlist > < bc: @cafekitsune >

< tags: @roryzzz @stelleduarte @strengthandstay @skywalker1dream >

The marriage was a facade, a show for the Capitol that the president didn't stand alone. The people in the manor were the only people who knew how fake the marriage was. Some of the elite of the Capitol could also tell. People can fake everything but not love, never love.

You learned early on Snow wasn't capable of love. A lover wouldn't do half of the atrocities Snow committed as he got to power but he had never done anything to you. You didn't exist for him in the manor and he was always respectful when you were by his side.

It was manageable, the life you had, nobody could mistreat you, not as the First Lady of Panem. However mistreatment and flirting are very different things, and the people of Capitol aren't a stranger to wandering hands and lustful eyes.

You didn't think Coriolanus would mind that you sometimes let the hands linger. That you would bask in the attention you were so deprived of from your husband. You were proven wrong as a video of you and an elitist was going viral all over the Capitol.

You didn't cheat on Snow, but you were too close to the stranger. His hand on your waist and your smile too wide. Cheating or not, it wasn't any less inappropriate.

A remainder by your servant made you walk to the study in which Snow spent most of his time. You were wearing a knee-length white dress, something that clings to your curves. It was a desperate, pathetic attempt to distract Snow. A part of you knew it wouldn't work and would make your mistake more obvious but it was an attempt better than none.

You knocked at the door and you could hear him say come in. So you did. Your hands are behind your back, and your eyes look at the floor like it's the most interesting thing in the world.

“Do you know what you have done?” He asked, you still couldn't look up to meet his gaze. Your fingers fumble behind your back as you bite your inner cheek. You give him a nod.

“And what have you done?” He questioned, his voice like the calm before the storm. “I created unnecessary gossip that isn't good for your reputation,” you mummer.

“What else?” He said, his tone suspicious and waiting for the confirmation. That's when you look up at the most beautiful demon you have ever seen. He looked all glorious with his suit and hair slicked back. “I didn't cheat,” you said, firmly, your eyes fierce and reflecting the truth of your words.

When Snow didn't reply, you insisted again, “I. Didn't. Cheat. It's a line I will never cross, Coriolanus.” Again, he didn't say anything, instead, his gaze went up and down your body, his expression unreadable. You flushed from his stare, not sure if wearing this dress was the right move after all. The man had always surrounded himself with those stupid white roses and this was the symbol that you had noticed.

“Come and sit.” You begin to walk towards the chair only to be interrupted by his words, “No, not there, in my lap.” You freeze from his words, but your brain tells you to obey his every word.

You make your way to him, your heels clicking against the marble floor. Your hands are sweaty and your heart is in your throat. You reach him before you straddle him without a word being uttered. Your dress hitching up to your thighs. Your hands around his shoulders as you wait for further instructions from your husband.

“What do you think we should do to make the rumors go away?” He asked, his voice deep and so seductive. You weren't even sure he realized the effect his voice had on you. You let out a small gasp when his hands held your hips, cementing your place in his lap.

His hands were warm and perhaps maybe it was biased but you thought they would be ice cold. Instead, his palm laminated heat against the thin fiber of your dress making your skin warm. Your former flush turns into a deeper shade of red.

“We could…” you couldn't focus, how could you when he was touching you like this? When he was so close. He was never this close to you before. Ever. His touch reminded you of the fact that despite everything he is a man and your husband at that. A demon in human flesh.

“We could do more PR,” you mumbled. He raised an eyebrow at the suggestion. “I mean if we do it right, I am sure it will work,” you fumbled. He gives you a nod.

“Take off my shirt,” he demanded. Your eyes widen and you hesitate. “Do it or I’ll make you.” he threatened and you know not to take his words lightly. With shaky fingers, you unbutton his shirt. The process was slow, meticulously slow. His toned physique comes into complete view, making your breath hitch. Fuck, he was a Greek God of tragedy and sin.

“Mark me up,” he said, his tone emotionless. “What?” you questioned, surprised. “You think you’re acting innocent?” he sneered, “You heard what I said, my wife. It's because of your suggestion. Mark. Me. Up.”

You swallow down your nervousness and bring your lips forward to his cheek. You pressed a soft kiss there and felt him tense underneath you. You drag your lips to his jaw and nip the skin, the tip of your tongue soothing the small teeth mark as he lets out a grunt. It was music to you. A masterpiece of symphony and you needed more, so much more. Snow had you deprived for months and it's time to take.

Your lips continue to nip at his jaw, placing sloppy wet kisses as his breaths get heavy. You moved down to his neck, a moan leaving your lips as you attacked his skin with your teeth. Sucking onto his pulse point and moaning when the salty taste of his skin hits your taste buds. Your hand goes to his neck, tilting his head to give you more access. All the while he lets out quite controlled sounds. You licked his Adam's apple before wrapping your mouth around it to suck a purple bruise. Marking him up just as he wanted.

His hand on your waist gave you a firm squeeze which made you bite harder and made him hiss. You lean back panting, as you admire your artwork of teeth marks and red love bites. You pressed down into him and moaned as his hard bulge pressed right against your clothed cunt. Your panties were soaked by now. “Snow,” you whimper.

“Corio, call me Corio” he whispered. His eyes briefly turned to a white bouquet of roses before he met your gaze. You didn't think much of it and whispered, “Corio.”

“Corio,” you tried the name again on your tongue and watched his eyes darken. You leaned in, your lips brushing against his. “Let me kiss you. Let me make you my husband, please,” you whispered.

You waited for a verbal answer but all you got was another squeeze on your waist. You were desperate enough to take what you could get. You started by grinding against his bulge. The juices that made your panties soaked are now ruining his pants.

You let out a breathless moan as you gained delicious friction against your pussy but it wasn't enough. There's no hell and heaven for which this would be enough. You crashed your lips to his. The kiss was all carnage and desire. Uncoordinated, something so unlike Snow Corio that it made you moan into his mouth. Your hands are in his hair, pulling him closer. Your lips glide against each other perfectly. His tongue took over your mouth, not leaving any place unexplored, untouched by him.

You break the kiss with a gasp. Your hand going towards his pants to unzip. The motion stopped as Corio held your wrist and you looked up at him. “You’re my wife, you're my right,” he said, “but do you deserve it?”

It was more than a question, it was a promise waiting to be made, a bond waiting to be sealed. “I…” you begin to speak, you meet his eyes, sea blue you wanted to drown in, “Never again, Sn- Corio. Never again.” “Please,” you added for extra measure. You had his taste already, no one else could ever compare. He had to know that too because he gave you a sharp nod.

You get up from his lap, taking off your panties first, not bothering with the dress. You knew he liked it now, more than you thought so he would. You find your rightful place in his lap again, his pants and boxers past his knees.

His cock was hard and twitching, the length had an angry tip with its slit profusely leaking pre-cum. It looked painful and it was because of you. You. You wondered if you had power over him now for a brief second but you shake your head clear of these thoughts.

Instead, you catch his lips again, the kiss slower this time. You raise yourself a bit so his cock can align itself to your entrance. Your dress is raised to help you. Even if his cock was on the girthy side with veins on the underside of his cock. You knew your pussy would stretch around him, that your walls would be a splendid fit around his length. You were too impatient for any sort of foreplay, you wanted the stretch, you wanted him to make you dizzy with his cock splitting you apart.

You let out a whimper as you began to sink onto his cock, your eyes flicked to him and his eyes were zeroed down to the place you both were connected now. His hands are on either side of your hip, guiding you down on his length. It was after his cock was fully stuffed in you, that his self-control allowed him to let out a groan.

“I respected you like a lady but sluts don't deserve respect,” he said, his lips parted as he let out a heavy pant. You let out a whimper, your mind hazy as your cunt tries to get used to his length. “I.. am sorry,” you whine, how many times do you need to repeat? When will he be satisfied with your apology?

“Prove it,” he said with a smirk, “Prove that you deserve to be my wife and the First Lady of Panem.”

You follow Corios’ command. Your hands are on his shoulders to support yourself. Your fingers fist his shirt as you begin to ride him. Raising yourself a few inches before slamming down on his cock with a loud moan escaping your lips. He reached the deepest spot inside of you like this. His cockhead grazing your spongy spot as you fucking yourself on his cock. Your arousal and his pre-cum being smeared all over your thighs.

The sight made his breath hitch, something you didn't notice as you were too busy with your eyes closed and taking his cock like a good wife. You looked completely debauched like this, your hair wild, your lips red and swollen, your hands digging into his shoulder. Your nipples are hard and obvious through the white dress.

He wasn't supposed to lose control, this was happening for a reason. No matter how many deem him God or devil in the end he was a man. And no man is perfect. He pulled you closer to him. One of his hands is on your back, pressing you to him. Another of his hands in your hair, tugging the strands without a care about how rough he is being. It makes you moan, your head on his chest now. His hips raise upwards to fuck you as he now lets out more vocal sounds of enjoyment.

His pace was slower than yours. Each thrust of his was made for his indulgence in your velvet walls. The drag of his cock was perfect, his speed however was making you feel insane. You needed him, faster, harder. Used would be a much more correct term. You wanted to be used by your husband. And right now, you were but it wasn't enough.

You let out mewls and whines to make him break his languid pace but Corio gives you no mind. His fingers interlanged in your locks, his hand still pressing you in and his strength made it so you couldn't take control. He was drunk in the pleasure your pussy gave, his head resting on his headrest, his lips parted to let out a grunt with every thrust.

You weren't a person for him, not right now, a fleshlight perhaps. It didn't matter what you felt, it mattered what Snow felt. Snow felt amazing, he felt stupid for denying himself this for months on end. He would never make the same mistake again.

Time passes and you don't know how long Corio has you like this, your nerves raw as your pussy impossibly sensitive. Tears were falling from your eyes and staining his shirt but moans slipped your lips every time he pushed in again.

“Corio, please,” you try to plead, raising your head to look at him. “Please, please can't anymore.” He turns his head to you, his fingers that you seemed to have forgotten were in your hair tugging your strands roughly.

That was it. You gasp out as the pain becomes a trigger to make you cum on his cock, your pussy tightening around his cock like a vice as the orgasm washes over your body. It was intense and you had snapped. “Sorry! Sorry!” You begin to sob, “I won't ever look at a man that's not you! Sn- Corio please!”

His languid thrust had sped up, his arms caging you to his chest. The last thing you heard before he spilled his seed inside of you was, “Snow lands on top.”

[timotheechalametsrealgf]

BNHA BOYS REACTING TO YOU PUTING THEM ON YOUR HEAR ME OUT CAKE

feat: K. Bakugou , S. Todoroki , I. Midoriya, N.Monoma , S. Hitoshi

author note!: I haven’t seen this idea being done before so here is my take!

KATSUKI BAKUGOU

Katsuki spends at least 30 minutes on tiktok before going to sleep, so he definitely knows what a “hear me out cake” is.

Initially he laughed when he saw you holding a mini version of a Monoma on a stick “Of course only they would find him attractive” he rolled his eyes as you were explaining your thoughts to a disgusted Mina.

After the pinknets turn, you placed another figure down on the cake. This time it was one of UA top students, Katsuki Bakugou!

At that moment he felt betrayed, bamboozled and might i say offended.

“Why would i be here, i am conveniently attractive!” he shouted at himself. Did you really just assume that him being good looking is a quirky and unique idea!

He immediately called you. The minute you answered, he didn’t even give you time to question the sudden phone call, as he demanded you to take down the video. He then proceeded to yell at you for the next 20 minutes about how “selfish you were for thinking that only you found him attractive, or how he was not a “hear me out”. He then took another 10 minutes explaining how his good looks were a FACT and trying to prove his point by telling you than he benches twice your weight and so on.

At the end of the night you were forced if not HARASSED to take down the tiktok.

SHOTO TODOROKI

Shoto has no idea what a “hear me out cake” is. I doubt he would even have TikTok, so naturally he only found out about the video through Izuku’s fyp. So while the poor boy was scrolling through the app and watching the TikTok you made with Momo, Shoto was watching as well through his friends shoulder. At first he was much disinterested as he couldn’t quite understand why miniatures of his classmates were being placed on a cake by you and Momo.

His interest only piqued when you presented a mini version of him. “what does that mean?” he asked Midoriya who jumped not expected from his friend to have been watching this whole time. The shorter boy tried to explain the concept of “hear me out” but it was to no vail.

Todoroki just assumed that you thought he was ugly. So for the rest of the day he tried to move on, ignoring the sad feeling that shadowed him. His whole life people would praise him for his looks, but the one person whose opinion actually mattered to him…thought he was ugly?

Fortunately Deku was quick with explaining to you the whole situation and you didn’t waist time to confront Shoto.

His sad feelings had automatically vanished when you enlightened him that he wasn’t actually considered a “hear me out” since most people were akin to his looks, you just wanted to point out a different perspective of why you thought of him as attractive, not just because of his facial features.

IZUKU MIDORIYA

Deku was mindlessly scrolling through TikTok when he fell upon a video of you and Ochaco doing the viral “hear me out cake”trend.

The boy was watching the video with much interest, him adding on to your explanations as well. For example when you added Tigress from Kung Fu Panda and you were quick to justify that she had an attractive aura,he also pointed out on her assertiveness.

Non the less, it was safe to say that when his name fell out of your mouth as a picture of him appeared on your hand he was a blushing mess.

Sure he was aware that his shy personality could be an ick for some people, but hearing from you that he was really underrated and that you found him very cute made him malfunction.

For the next few days he couldn’t look at you without blushing. He couldn’t even speak to you without messing up a word or two, but he was more than glad to find out that you were inspired by him. That’s why be wanted to be a hero! To motivate others to try their best, even when the odds are against them.

NEITO MONOMA

Ok let’s be real, Monoma definitely enjoys brain rot and he spends a lot of time on the app. He is always up to date with trends and new slang, so he is definitely aware of what a “hear me out cake is”.

Now, Neito also believes that out of all UA students, he definitely is one of the most attractive, if not THE most!

So rest assured that when he saw you pulling out that miniature version of him and heard you say “im suprised i haven’t seen anyone else point out his looks, he is sooo pretty” he quickly fled to the comments.

He was spamming insults like crazy. Mostly attacking your spacial awareness. “labeling me as a hear me out is crazy”, “get a reality check”, “how could you do this” What offended him more was the audacity to put him on the same cake as Bakugou Katsuki.

To him, it was like you had broken an unspoken rule. So he did what any sane person would do. He made his own version of a “hear me out cake” where he pulled out a bunch of pictures of you,only you.

Kendo who thought they were filming a normal tiktok covered her mouth in astonishment not even bothering to present her picks. “My pick is Y/n because im probably the only person who likes them” he began “another unique pick of mine is Y/n, who only I find attractive” “ and here we have someone new, someone fresh: y/n ladys and gentlemen!, who unfortunately only i recognize the beauty of”

HITOSHI SHINSO

Shinso isn’t really chronically online but i’m sure he has passed by the “hear me out cake” trend. So when he saw you pulling him out of your pocket he quickly understood what you were referring to.

Surprisingly, he was glad to see a person thinking of his quirk as interesting and full of potential. He smiled softly when you said “i could only dream of having a quirk as strong as his”.

It also didn’t go unnoticed by him the way you talked about his looks. How you referred to his eye bags as attractive and his purple hair as astonishingly beautiful. He even allowed himself to chuckle when you noted on his liking of cats, even calling him a “cat dad”.

After the video ended with a few more additions in the cake he found himself searching for your socials and pressing that “message” button.

With a bit of hesitation he texted you something along the lines of “So you like my hair huh?” but it only took him a minute to regret his decision, cringing with himself. He tried to delete the message but you were already typing back.

[talon-dragonbeast]

okay, ive seen way too many posts on the community tags talking about the tiktok ban and saying stuff like "i hope tiktok therians dont come in here theyre so awful and i hate them lol". and... i dont know what to tell you guys, i think thats mean as hell.

imagine, just for a second, that youre a therian on tiktok. at 13 years old, youve found a friendly community where people express themselves with masks, tails, and a type of movement called quadrobics. they seem to be having fun, so you decide to join in. and for a while, youre having fun too! you start practicing quadrobics, which is tough at first but you work hard to get better. you ask your parents for some cat masks, which you decorate with paint and faux fur. you make videos of yourself and your friends, wearing cat masks and dancing on all fours to some bland indie song.

then, out of nowhere, one of your posts goes viral. and suddenly, youre not having fun anymore.

"therians are crazy", "if you identify as a dog you should be chained and made to sleep naked outside", "my little brother came out as a therian and i bullied him until he stopped lol", "if i see a therian in the woods im shooting them", "if you want to be an animal, ill treat you like one".

again, YOURE 13. so you get defensive, because people you dont know are attacking you online and as a young teen, you dont know what to do to make it stop. so instead of confronting them, you try to please them instead. "im not crazy, im just having fun" turns into "i dont identify as an animal, only crazy people do that!" and then to "therians dont actually think were animals; thats lycanthropy and its wrong". this is what others in your community are saying, so it must be true, right? it helps slow down the criticism at least, if only for a little while; even if it never fully goes away. so you keep saying it, even to others in your community, because if it protects you from judgment, why not?

but now youre dealing with the possibility of your platform disappearing. youll lose your friends, the community youve worked so hard to be a part of. you heard some friends say they might switch to instagram if tiktok gets banned, while others prefer reddit or tumblr. Feeling curious (you didnt realize there were therians on other sites!), you decide to check out tumblr to see what that community is like there. the first post you come across at the top of the tag? "i hope tiktok therians dont come here theyre so awful and i hate them lol".

so yeah. thats the problem with making blanket statements like these; it only pushes away members of our own community. shame is not a motivator, and your aggressiveness gets us nowhere. remember, one catches more flies with honey than with vinegar. so be kind.

[housethemd]

My headcanons for a 2024(ish) House MD (self indulgent sorrysorry)

- House is canonically bisexual, and instead of hookers (or maybe as well as) he’s very open about his Tinder/Grindr hookups.

- Wilson is still a closet case, somehow. All his friends are queer, he is very active as an ally, but has somehow not figured it out. He even has little pride flags in his office pencil holder.

- Cuddy is a lesbian, she and House still flirt for funsies (worth noting I think her and House still had a one night stand in college before she came out, prompting a running joke that sex with House turned her into a lesbian)

- Chase goes viral on twitter (X) when he starts live tweeting House’s antics during DDx’s (his handle is @thataussiedoc and all his DDx tweets are tagged #mycrazyboss)

- The ducklings make tiktok videos when they don’t have a case. The first time House catches them they are expecting him to call them idiots or throw them out of the DDx room, but instead he joins them. Cue House doing a hilarious tiktok dance.

- Non-binary Thirteen my beloved

- Foreman plays Pokemon Go

- House gets a Nintendo Switch for his office so he can game in there, and when forced to go do clinic duty switches to handheld mode

- House and Kutner will game together when they don’t have a case

- There is a PPTH Diagnostics Dept. Discord server

- Foreman hates Apple products

- Cameron has one of those rainbow pins that says “you’re safe with me” she wears on her white coat

- House learns Gen Z slang and spends an entire episode talking exclusively in it - and everyone else is left trying to piece together what he’s saying

- House is canonically autistic but it only comes out during “Lines in the Sand” or similarly themed episode. I feel like either Chase or Foreman get snippy during the DDx and makes a muttered, offhand comment about House, something to the effect of “yeah well maybe you have autism too” and House is like “well duh.” They spend the rest of the episode approaching the other ducklings, Wilson, etc about how they feel, now that they know that House has autism only to be met with general indifference. Maybe it ends when they go to Cuddy and she reminds them what a great doctor House is and all that and eventually they are forced to confront their own internalized ableism.

- PPTH definitely has a float in the pride parade every year

- Chase plays Among Us

- Lesbian Cameron but also CompHet. Like the first couple seasons she hasn’t figured it out yet.

- Hilson is absolutely made canon at some point

I told you they were self indulgent. Might reblog to add more as I think of them!

[thewertsearch]

TC: all my life i believed at a fuckin paradise to come what held the most baller, darkest of carnivals to join. TC: AND A PROPHECY TC: to tell all about a band of rowdy and capricious minstrels steeped in the good harshwhimsy. TC: THE MIRTHFUL MESSIAHS WERE FORETOLD TO BE CRASHING THAT FUCKING PIE STAND AND BRING THE HOLY RUCKUS. […] TC: I'M TALKING ABOUT THE VAST HONK, YOU BLASPHEMOUS MOTHERFUCKER.

I suppose I have to take Gamzee's cult a lot more seriously now - which means I should probably at least try to figure out what it is they actually believe.

It appears as if their doctrine is centered around some sort of prophecy, concerning a group of legendary figures known as 'mirthful messiahs'. They're fated to release the Vast Honk - and, in doing so, create some sort of Juggalo paradise.

We don't know any lore about the Vast Honk, but its name sets up intentional parallels with Gl'bgolyb's apocalyptic Vast Glub, as well as the Vast Croak, a holy sound emitted by newborn Genesis Frogs. Both of these sounds accompany enormous, galaxy-shaking cosmic events, so the Honk is presumably no different.

Alternia's First Guardian was 'corrupted' by a genome of the same name, presumably changing him from a standard Sburb NPC into the English cultist we all know and tolerate.

Could the Vast Honk be released by someone corrupted in a similar manner? We already know that Jade's Genesis Frog was spliced with some unknown DNA; it's terrifyingly plausible that said DNA was planted by Scratch, Gamzee, or English himself. There's a very real possibility that the Vast Honk will come from the mouth of Jade's frog.

TC: BUT NOW. TC: because of you. TC: BECAUSE OF ALL YOU AND YOUR FUCKING OUTRAGEOUSNESS. TC: you stole up all my miracles away by revealing at me how the wicked shit was really kicked. TC: LIKE SOME FILTHY FUCKING SCIENSTIFF WHO AT OLD TIMES WOULD BE RULED UNFUNNY WITHOUT EVEN GETTING HIS FUCKING TRIAL ON. TC: and now i don't know what to think about the spiritual fantasies i had.

Anyway, Gamzee can’t seem to reconcile his worldview with this pair of alien rappers who seem to cruelly parody his beliefs.

He’s always been dimly aware of his fictional nature, and as his mind begins to clear, it is forced to confront the possibility that this is all his religion ever was. A viral video and a meme.

For once, he doesn't think it's a very funny joke.

TC: I HAVE THE IDEA THAT YOU PUT IN MY PAN TO SIT THERE. TC: that the paradise planet TC: IS A FUCKING JOKE. TC: and the miracles TC: ARE FAKE. TC: pure fiction. TC: FALSE FAKEY FRAUDY CON JOBS FROM A BUNCH OF UNFUNNY NINJA HARLEQUIN BULLSHIT ARTISTS.

It would be remiss of me not to bring up the possibility that ICP are non-trivially involved with Homestuck's plot. I mean, Betty Crocker is now a key figure in multiple characters’ backstories, so fucking anything is possible at this point.

Joseph Bruce and Joseph Utsler could literally be the mirthful messiahs, and I have no idea what that could mean. I might actually have to listen to their albums to understand the comic.

[phoxphenex]

hiii!! could you please do riize members confronting idol!reader who was caught staring at them and they know abt it because the video of them staring went viral on twt and tiktok. (also i love your texts sm! they genuinely make my day<3)

awwjdjjwd thank you so much!! hiii i went with all different relationship concepts for these, i hope you don’t mind <33

riize when you go viral for staring at them (idol reader)

[letters-to-lgbt-kids]

My dear lgbt+ kids, 

If you are online a lot, especially in spaces or bubbles where people often share their experiences „for awareness“, you may feel like it’s your obligation to share your own life experiences as well. 

This can be a subconscious thing. You would likely never sign your name on „Every gay person who had a traumatic encounter with a homophobic person needs to make a TikTok about it or else they fail their community“ or „If you’re disabled and trans you need to post about your specific struggles or else you don’t even care about visibility for your own communities“. But you may come across people who did make a video or post about their struggles - and feel some guilt or shame when you realize you experienced the same but don’t talk about it. You may feel like they’re using their voice to do something and you just sit around. Or alternatively, you may see those things and feel „inspired“ to share your own story, so you rush to do it.. and later on you realize you actually didn’t feel inspired, you just felt uncomfortable. You didn’t actually want to share your story with strangers and you kinda feel worse now, but you had to do it for awareness, right?

If you relate to any of that, here’s some things I want you to know: 

You don’t owe anyone a list of all labels you identify with. You don’t owe anybody a list of your medical diagnoses. You don’t owe anyone a list of all traumatic events in your life. Asking you for that would be considered wildly inappropriate in almost all circumstances offline… so it definitely can’t be the measure for how „good“ or „brave“ you are online, either. 

Most people who share their stories online don’t really only do it for awareness. They also do it because they want to receive sympathy, comfort, praise, the feeling of community, the unbiased confirmation that what happened to them was wrong etc… or even just the relief of getting it out of their system. And there’s nothing wrong with that! We are all human beings who need each other. But it may take some pressure of you to remember that those posts are not always some selfless, heroic deed purely done for activism. 

Sharing your story online doesn’t necessarily do that much. Don’t get me wrong, it can be really brave and it can definitely start conversations! I don’t mean to discredit anyone who decides to share something deeply personal. But: not every post gets viral or reaches anyone besides the people who already agree with it. So if you don’t really want to talk about being bullied in school, you certainly don’t need to feel like you have to. Who says that it would be YOUR post, out of all the posts about bullying, that’d end up super viral and start some big conversation about bullying and end up in the news? Maybe it’d just get 15 likes and two bot comments. No need to feel guilty on missing out on that. 

Talking about a traumatic experience can bring relief and that’s valid.. but it can also be counterproductive to your healing process. Sharing it „for awareness“ will not be worth it if it makes you feel overwhelmed, unlocks memories you’re not ready to confront in detail, comes with the risk of putting you into a depression spiral, re-traumatizes you by bringing back feelings you felt in that situation etc. Put your healing first. 

People can be real mean, especially when they can hide behind the anonymity the internet offers. Sharing something vulnerable can spread awareness but it can also make you a target of hate, ridicule, disbelief and bullying. This is especially important to consider if it’s something you’re still struggling with or healing from. Not wanting to get mean comments is a valid reason to not share something. Again: Put your healing first. 

You know all that and still want to share your story? All the more power to you! My point here is not to silence your voice. If you WANT to share your story, it can be a really great thing to do. 

I just want to remind you that you should only do it if you truly want to. Never do it out of pressure or obligation - there is none. Your story is yours. You have the right and power to keep it or share it as you wish. 

With all my love, 

Your Tumblr Dad 

[thehmn]

Two misconceptions I keep seeing about cats and dogs:

Cats are the only animal that domesticated themselves.

The reason people say this is because it’s believed cats started approaching human villages when we became farmers and suddenly we had lots rodents for them to hunt. But it’s believed dogs approached humans too. It’s very unlikely that humans captured a wolf and tried to tame it and nothing good would come of stealing wolf pups because even if they got used to humans you’d still have a wild animal that could snap at any moment. It’s much more likely that wolves approached nomadic humans to eat our trash and less aggressive wolves could get closer and get better food and humans being humans probably started throwing food to them. And because both humans and wolves were nomadic they could follow us from settlement to settlement which is why it happened thousands of years before cats.

Cats are hardly domesticated and we haven’t fucked them up in any way.

Bit of a sad one. You know all those videos of house cats chasing away bears, foxes and other wildlife? Wild cats don’t behave like that unless they have no way out. That’s why a human can scare away a mountain lion. But we didn’t want cats who were afraid of us so we selected for brave cats who’d get close to us and that unfortunately means hundreds if not thousands of house cats get killed every day by wildlife. There’s a lot more videos of cats getting eaten than being victorious when confronting a fox but for obvious reasons they don’t go viral. The knowledge that foxes eat cats is so widespread in my country that it’s even a plot point in a children’s cartoon where the fox Rita is proud that her mom kills cats but later is confronted by ally cats out for revenge. So unfortunately we bred the fear out of cats and then let them roam the streets.

[moonchildstyles]

flâner

élan part four: wandering around Paris was just what y/n needed. and harry, of course.

wordcount: 11.2k+

—————

Foolishly, (Y/N) thought addressing Harry would make her less anxious to exist around him. She was proven wrong the next morning when she saw him emerging from the restroom and for her skin to feel a bit too warm. From his response, that furrowed brow and the fact that he didn't even seem to realize what she was trying to tell him flashed before her. That blank look in his gaze like he thought she was just as crazy as her father taunted her. 

After that moment, before he spotted her, she slunk back into her room. The door shutting behind her sealed her away, the air settling around her. 

That was a week ago, that first spot of him after that confrontation. Since then, with her door sealed closed, she had burrowed herself into the folds of her duvet and cushy mattress. Her pillows had been thrown askew, ruffled from her shifting in bed and tossing and turning during the hours she was able to sleep. The only times she trudged out of bed was to take a shower, or slink to the kitchen in the middle of the night for snacks. Her phone had been glued to her hand through her time, corresponding with Francesca while she refreshed her socials and news outlets as often as she could manage. 

Luckily, the 132 Gala was set around the same time as a major music festival, pushing her mess to the back burner of the media rotation after a week. Unfortunately, the event wasn't close enough to have wiped everything about the Gala from people's memories or mouths. 

The red carpet interview she gave had gone viral. Analyses of her body language, the way she looked at Harry, every tiny word she let out followed after. The most popular theory she'd seen was those assuming she was high on something while she was there, that would explain the jitters and the fact she couldn't calm down, apparently. Think pieces were posted, the vast majority citing her as the poster child for the "dark side" of the glamorous social scene. Edits were posted to video platforms, set to dramatic music as if this was supposed to be her third act low point in a film. The most traumatizing photo taken of her—her hair a mess, hand clinging to Harry's, her feet stumbling over one another with tears glittering over her face as she tried to get away—had been turned into a meme. She was nothing more than a caricature and a joke to anyone who had any idea who she was. At least the gossip from the festival was enough to push her out of the main publications, other appearances and performances garnering the public's attention for the time being. 

In anonymous blogs, it appeared outsiders had caught on to the fact she was no longer in New York. It started when she wasn't pictured at any of the afterparties, more merit given when she was noticeably missing from group outings with Francesca and the rest of the girls, articles speculating that she was in "treatment" or hiding out from the consequences of her flip out. 

Her least favorite thing was the articles popping up centering around Harry. Many dug into his background, looking into his job history, family, and small amount of social media presence he had. There was nothing to be found, nothing that could add any fuel, but that didn't stop the outlets from crafting something sensational enough to grab attention. The amount of headlines she'd seen, suggesting he was a jealous boyfriend after catching her with Barron, using a photo of him cradling her with his brow furrowed and jaw set was astounding. 

In the week since she left the country and shut herself away, her father hadn't contacted her a single time. The last thing he said to her was that she was a crazy whore, just like her mother. 

Tonight, she was doing much of the same as she had for the last week, eyes straining against her screen. If she were to peer over the top of her phone she would be able to spot the sparkling Eiffel Tower through her balcony. 

Despite doing nothing all day everyday, her body was exhausted. There was more anxiety in her system than she ever thought she could handle. Her only hopeful thought was the reminder that there would undoubtedly be something that would happen to throw her sensationalized story through the window. Someone would do something that would be more interesting, fresher, more exciting. Then, she would be off the hook. 

Until then, she would just be hiding under her covers and dodging Harry's presence. 

—————

(Y/N) blinked her tired eyes as she lay bundled up in her bed, the morning light a little too bright for her. She'd stayed up most of the night, scrolling through her phone mindlessly until she managed to flop asleep for a couple of hours. The sunshine woke her, the look of the stars in the night too enticing for (Y/N) to ever remember to close her drapes before the sun rose. 

It didn't make her regret it any less in this moment, though. 

Turning between her sheets, she gave her back to the open balcony doors, her eyes fluttering closed. She'll wake up a little later to eat something—hopefully, Harry would be busy elsewhere. 

A moment later, with (Y/N) on the edge of sleep, a knock rattled her French doors. On instinct, she squeezed her eyes shut tighter. She did her best to pretend to sleep when she heard the same door open, pacing her breathing and relaxing her features as much as she could. If only she had kept her back to the door, she would have endured another few moments of the sunshine if it would have made this moment easier. 

Harry entered her room after a beat, a heavy sigh falling from his lips. (Y/N) didn't waver in her act, keeping her eyes shut and breathing easy. 

"I know you're awake." 

She could feel her heart racing in her chest at his words. Just keep breathing, she reminded herself, keep breathing and keep her face relaxed. 

The static in the room shifted, (Y/N) assuming he stepped towards her. "(Y/N)," he said, his voice firm, "I know you're awake." 

(Y/N) stayed quiet. She could only imagine the way his lips thinned and that unimpressed gaze of his stayed stitched to her face.

"I just wanted to let you know that I found a pilates studio nearby and I booked you a spot for the morning class. It starts in a couple of hours. Shower and eat if you want, but we will be going either way." 

Blinking her eyes open, (Y/N) broke her act in shock. Looking up at Harry from where she was bundled in bed, her bloodshot eyes met his intense gaze.

"What?" 

Raising his brow, Harry looked a little too smug.

"I found a studio nearby for you," he started simply, the moss of his eyes stuck on hers, "They had a spot available in their morning class. I signed you up for it. 'M not going to let you miss this." 

Shifting between the sheets, she curled her fingers around the hem of her sheet. "I don't feel good, Harry," she croaked, "I don't really want to—"

"Y'can't stay in your room the whole time we're here, (Y/N). You know that. Hiding isn't going to fix anything." 

Behind her ribs, (Y/N) felt something begin to boil. "I'm not trying to fix anything. I just want to be left alone, Harry." 

"That's not going to be possible while 'm here." He matched her intensity head on, unwavering where he stood. "Now, please get up, and I will see if I can put together some breakfast for you." 

With that, Harry gave her his back as he stepped out of her room. He left the door wide open behind him, a tactic that made (Y/N)'s jaw clench and skin heat. He knew she wouldn't be able to stand having the door open, forcing her to get out of bed to close it. 

Looking at him through her wide open doors, she spotted him puttering about the kitchen without a care in the world. It pissed her off even more. 

Can't he see she's in a state of mourning? Her reputation and chunks of her self worth died that night at the Gala. She didn't need some sunshine-y pilates class, full of breathing techniques and affirmations. What she needed was her father to respect her, and everyone to leave her alone, and her head to be fucking quiet for once. 

The rage bubbling in her chest propelled her out of bed, stomping over the floor with her sheets flung behind her. She was seething as she made it to the threshold, grasping the doorknobs with her hands rolled into fists. She didn't know what she was going to say, but she just wanted him to leave her alone, understand that she was pissed off and he wasn't helping even a little. All while he was prancing around their kitchen without care in the world. 

She stopped in her tracks when she took in the fact that he really was prancing around the kitchen. As much as she wanted to be angry and seethe at him, he wasn't there without a care in the world. He was in the process of making breakfast for her. Using their limited supply of food seeing as she hadn't done any grocery shopping other than a single delivery and he didn't know his way around the city at all. He was sacrificing the little rounds of bread they had left for her. 

The bar of her shoulders loosened to a slope, her jaw unclenching. 

None of this was Harry's fault—she knew that. She was in therapy for two years for these kinds of anxiety issues, these gut feelings that made her so frustrated she was almost paralyzed. The real problem was the fact that she was scared. She didn't want to see the world, and she didn't want the world to see her. She didn't want someone to see her face and be reminded of the mascara that was pictured running down her cheeks, her cry-swollen lips, and the messy pile of hair that had been on her head. 

That was none of Harry's fault, though. He was only trying to help her. She wasn't helping anyone—especially herself—by staying cooped up in her room and running on anxiety and three sips of water. While leaving her room and doing something as annoyingly centering as pilates sounded terrible in the moment, in the long run it would help her in ways she couldn't anticipate with her brain scrambled like this.

Carefully closing the doors behind her, (Y/N) turned back to her room and set for her bathroom to get ready for the day. 

—————

Two hours away from her phone, the time filled with breathing, pushing the stretch of her muscles, and kind French women asking about her cute leggings, left (Y/N) feeling... nice. 

Sweat stuck to her skin, baby hairs clung to the outskirts of her features, and her thighs ached, but she didn't mind. She couldn't find it in herself to have a complaint. 

She stepped out of the studio, waving goodbye to the instructor with diffused red lipstick, (Y/N) faced the street to look for Harry with a soft smile on her features. She found the sedan on the curb just a handful of spots away from the entrance to the studio. Her steps were leisurely as she made her way over the concrete. 

Climbing into the passenger seat, she patiently clicked her seatbelt and waited for Harry to pull away from the curb. Maybe he would be willing to let her grab a purple smoothie from one of the cafes by the penthouse. 

"How are you feeling?" Harry asked, his tone careful as he slipped into the flow of Parisian traffic. 

"Really good actually. Thank you." She didn't hesitate to flash him a soft-lipped smile. "You didn't have to do any of this for me, so it really means a lot." 

Something prideful entered his features as he listened to her. The green in his eyes sparkled as he canted his head. "Y'haven't even seen the best part, yet." 

"What do you mean?" A pinch in her brows marred her features.

"While y'were busy," he started, his hands sliding over the steering wheel as he smoothly turned at an intersection, "I was able to find one of your purple drinks at a café." 

Directing her eyes to the center console between them, (Y/N) finally spotted the clear cup with her favorite purple smoothie inside. She took in a bubbly gasp, her features blooming in excitement. 

"Harry! Thank you!" she squealed, grabbing the cup from the holder with her cardigan covered hands. 

Harry didn't say anything in response, instead allowing the closest thing she'd ever seen to a full smile on his face come to fruition. She swore she saw the ghost of a dimple on one of his cheeks. 

All it took was a single sip, the clear acid of pomegranate seeds and bright raspberry bursting over her tongue, that practically changed her entire outlook on life. 

"This is, like, the best day of my life," (Y/N) joked with a fluffy laugh, greedily fitting the straw between her lips once more. 

Harry let out just the faintest huff of air through his nose, his concentration on the road before them, as she gazed at him. The scape of Paris passed behind him, sunlight shaping his silhouette. 

She wasn't so sure she was joking about this being the best day, anymore.

—————

"You've never been to Paris before this? Not even with Camila and Monroe?" 

Swallowing down a bite of his breakfast sandwich, Harry cleared his throat as he shook his head. "No. They preferred going through the states." 

"Wow," (Y/N) sounded, slowly dragging her piece of buttery toast through the remaining hollandaise sauce on her plate. "This is your first time ever." 

"Mhm," he hummed, peeking at her through the fan of his lashes, "That's what I said." 

While (Y/N) didn't like to think of herself as spoiled or out of touch, she guessed maybe she forgot that international travel wasn't the norm for most people. Paris was like a second home to her, it was crazy to think that Harry hadn't had the joy of visiting, even if for a day.

"I have to show you around then," she mused, making the decision on her own. Seeing the Eiffel Tower from his balcony wasn't enough, she had to show him the real deal. 

Harry raised his brows, his shoulders hunching over his plate as he took another bite of his sandwich. He waited until he had swallowed before speaking. "Show me around?" 

"Yes! You need to be a tourist, a little," (Y/N) bleated, "It would be fun, don't you think? I'll show you all of the famous spots, and I can show you my favorites, too." 

Sipping his coffee, Harry lingered for a moment, his eyes on her. He seemed to have brought his observing gaze along from home. "That would be really nice, actually. Thank you, (Y/N)." 

Practically bouncing in her seat, she leant across as if sharing a secret. "Can we do it today, then? Or did you have other plans?" 

"Seeing as how 'm here with you, I think you are my only plans." 

(Y/N) didn't expect the flutter that happened in her chest. Warmth bubbled behind her cheeks when he didn't seem to be teasing her at all, instead that intensity still followed as he spoke. 

He flustered her a bit. 

"Good," she sounded, swallowing around her tongue as she disconnected their eye contact, "Finish eating, and then we'll go be tourists." 

—————

Peering down at her phone, (Y/N) did her best to be aware of her surroundings while poking at the map of Paris on her screen. 

"I think we'll start easy and see the Eiffel Tower first," (Y/N) mused, leading them in the direction of the train station that would take them to the attraction. 

"Yeah?" Harry asked, looking down at her with a small kink to his brow. 

"Mhm," she hummed happily, "It's way better up close and in person, honestly. We could go later to see it at night with all the twinkle lights, but I think I might be too excited to wait." 

That phantom smile settled on his lips for the second time. "I think we could do that, come back and see the twinkle lights. I think it would be a lot of fun." 

Eagerly nodding her head, (Y/N) couldn't wait to add the plans to the set mental itinerary she was lacing together. "If you're not too tired after the Tower, there are a few other places I wanted to visit today." 

"And, what are those?" 

(Y/N)'s babbling filled the air between them, her hands gesturing as she spoke. She had a list forming in her head, landmarks popping up as she went that she swore she needed to show him at least once before their time in Paris was over.

He didn't stop her as she bubbled on, dominating the conversation while only vaguely guiding her down the pedestrian path and keeping her out of danger. She was the one that knew the city, but it seemed she still didn't pay a whole lot of attention to her surroundings. His hand was a curling breeze over her back, palm grazing between her shoulder blades. 

Hitting the train station, Harry didn't slack on the way he herded her around, acting as a wall between herself and the public. Even with the fact that Paris was decidedly less crazy for her, less recognition and less people bold enough to approach her (she'd only seen a handful of people take photos of her even), he didn't waver on his job.

"Careful," he told her when they stepped onto the train, him just a foot behind. 

Staying quiet, (Y/N) blinked looking around the train car. It was full this morning, tourists and the like taking up each seat with others standing by the bars. She hesitated in her steps, unsure of where to go as a handful of others boarded with them. Taking over, Harry guided her inside, pushing her to an unoccupied corner by a rail. 

"Hang on," he told her, huddling her into the small space.

Instantly, she had her hand wrapped around the bar, Harry grabbing the one above their heads. He stood facing her, his back to the rest of the car while she looked up at him with her phone in her free hand. 

"Thank you," she murmured.

Harry gave her a small nod, his gaze looking out the window. 

The intercom dinged once the doors closed, a calm female voice running over the map of the next stop in French. Pulling out her phone, she reloaded the page of all the stops and the schedules. "I think we're the last stop," she told Harry, tapping at her phone distractedly. 

Suddenly, she was thrown off balance once the train shot off, the slow startup being left behind. (Y/N) stumbled, her grip on the handrail clearly not tight enough. Quick as ever, Harry stopped her with a hand on her waist, keeping her upright as her eyes widened and a gasp fell from her lips. 

Harry's voice was low as he righted her, the train steadying in speed, "I told you to be careful." 

Her hand with her phone continued to cling to his arm even when she was flat on her feet once more. 

"I guess I forgot how these are. Sorry," she mumbled, pulling her gaze from where she centered on the dip of his throat up to his face. 

Amusement laced through his features in a slight softening of the edges light in his irises. "Maybe." 

Harry didn't move his hand from her waist until he ushered her to take a vacated seat. 

—————

Walking down the uneven pathways, (Y/N) took the familiar route in stride. The train dropped them off near the Eiffel Tower, but there was still a short walk to be had. Harry was at her side as they mixed in with the flow of tourists and locals set around the area. 

Everything was much cooler here. New York was new and eccentric, full of people setting trends with others following. It was loud and brash, full to the brim with everything and anything. Paris was different. It still moved fast—it was still a major city after all—, but cooler. There was an ease about the people, the palettes, the decorum. Everything worked on the same flow as the Seine, leisurely and winding with a cigarette in hand. She tended to travel here in the summer with lavender fields blooming, but she wondered what a Parisian winter would be like. 

She imagined lots of soup and wine.

"We're almost there," she told him, casting her gaze outwards to catch the tower in the distance, "But, if we went down that way"—she pointed down another walkway—"we'd be able to see the second Statue of Liberty they have here." 

"There's another one?" Harry asked, following the direction of her pointed finger.

"Mhm," she hummed, keeping them moving forward, "I can't remember his name, but a French architect designed the statue and made two—one for us and one to keep." 

Harry took in the information in his silently observant ways, cataloguing it all to be filed away. "What else is around here?" 

(Y/N) bounced in her steps at the question, all too excited to tell him more about the city she loved. With how widespread and different Paris was depending on the section of the city you ended up in, it was easy to forget how some of the most beautiful pieces of human culture were only planted miles apart. She could be Harry's tour guide for weeks just to get through every spot in Paris. 

She took her time pointing him in every which direction, telling him more and more while glimpsing other spots she told him she wanted to stop at if they had the time. Soon enough, the Tower was before them, the lawn around the fixture lush and dotted with tourists. 

In the mid-morning light, it glimmered like the lights were blinking on, shimmering and dancing under the sun. 

"Wow," Harry murmured, almost breaking his neck as he looked up at it, his steps absently moving him closer. 

A wink of pride touched (Y/N)'s chest. She couldn't believe with how well travelled he seemed that he never had seen a place like this, but she would take the honor of being the one to show him. Maybe it wasn't so bad that she got him exiled here if she was able to share something like this.

"It's crazy, right?" she asked, her voice a breath as if to not disturb the towering structure, "I know back home has all the skyscrapers and everything, but this just feels like it's more. Don't you think?" 

"Yeah," he said, his voice floated on impressed awe. "Better than the photos, like you said." 

Glancing at him from the corner of her eye, (Y/N) saw the way Harry looked up with wonder in his eyes at the Tower. She was sure he was catching every detail, ever rung, every bolt. 

"So you wouldn't want a picture with it, then?" (Y/N) teased, watching the way a pinch appeared in Harry's brow. 

"No, of course I want a picture." The slight pout to his lips had (Y/N)'s grin widening into a bubbling laugh. She wondered if he even knew he made a face like that. 

Taking his eyes off the Tower for the first time since approaching the green, he looked to her with his own lips plucking into something amused. It wasn't a full smile, not yet, but something lopsided and reserved. She spotted that phantom dimple. 

Blinking back into the moment, (Y/N) took a step back, intending to photograph Harry in front of the monument. He took his phone out from his back pocket, not even glancing at her before he was casting his gaze around elsewhere. The moment she was about to offer, reaching for his phone, he honed in on a family of tourists, the father with his own camera trained above his head as he took shot after shot of the scene. 

"Excuse me," Harry started, stepping towards them, "Would y'mind taking our photo, please?" 

The tourist agreed with a bright Sure!, taking Harry's phone from him once being instructed on how to use it. Guiding them back to where (Y/N) stood in wait, she saw as the rest of the family seemed to notice what was going on. The mother and the daughter of the group took in (Y/N)'s presence, eyes widening while the father went along oblivious. They recognized her, that much she could tell.

She didn't know what to process first, honestly. Harry wanting her to be in his picture, or the whispers that were currently being shared by the family in front of her, eyes glancing in her direction more often than not. 

"Here, alright?" Harry asked, looking down at where she stood at his side, "Or do y'want to move?" 

"Here is fine," she said, a slight smile on her features. 

"Ready?" the father asked, poising Harry's phone for the best angles.

Wordlessly, Harry offered her his arm. She hesitated for only a second, turning into him with one hand fitting into the crook of her elbow with the other on the broad of his shoulder. She couldn't help the bright grin on her features, no longer a part of the pose she was giving for the camera. The whole of his side was pressed against her, reminding her of the only bright spots she experienced during the Gala: when Harry held her. 

She happily posed beside him as the tourist tapped away at Harry's phone, changing the angles once or twice. "Are these alright?" he asked once he was finished, holding the phone out for Harry to take.

Breaking away from his side, (Y/N) lingered closer than she figured was probably normal as he flicked through the additions to his camera roll. She tried not to read too far into the slight smile on his lips as he did so. 

"These are perfect, thank you," he responded, fitting his phone back into his pocket. 

"Thank you," (Y/N) parroted, feeling the eyes of the daughter and mother on her during her brief speech. 

Pleasantries were exchanged, Harry offering to take a photo of the family that was waved off before parting ways. The daughter only glanced back at her once after. 

That bubbly feeling in (Y/N)'s stomach remained when she turned her gaze towards Harry. "Did you want one of just you, or anything?" 

Harry shook his head, curls of brown hair fluffing over his head. "'M okay," he told her, "I like these." 

(Y/N) didn't know what to say, instead allowing a small smile to settle on her lips. Redirecting her gaze to the Tower, she did her best to pretend like she wasn't hanging off of every word he was giving. 

"Can we come back?" 

Blinking, (Y/N) fell back into the moment, her eyes sweeping across the land on him. "Hm?" 

"I want to come back at night when the lights are on, if that's alright." 

This time she couldn't suppress the toothy smile that fit onto her lips.

"I think we could do that." 

Maybe they could grab another photo together, the tower shimmering behind.

—————

"Are you okay with one more stop?" 

Harry, now familiar with the route from the train station to the apartment, guided them back down the pedestrian streets. He looked down at her from where the sun was gliding over her skin, the late afternoon hours catching up with the sinking sun. 

"I think I can handle it," he mused, maneuvering her out of the way of a large group. "What did you have in mind?" 

(Y/N) perked up at his agreement. She walked with a bounce in her steps as if her muscles weren't beginning to ache from the full day of sightseeing. Despite the grumble in her stomach and her throat feeling a little too dry to be normal, she felt light. Showing Harry around and introducing him to the country's greatest landmarks was more than worth it. 

His camera roll was full of photos of the day, a good handful of them including (Y/N) after he beckoned her to join him. Even the places they didn't have time to properly visit (the Lourve being the most notable one), Harry didn't seem annoyed that she wanted to spend a moment outside, instead indulging her with taking photos and asking about her own experiences. There were separate days entirely that they planned on using to visit the vast amount of libraries and museums in the area. 

"There's a place by the apartment called the Les Duex Magots," she said, peering around the neighbourhood in hopes of catching sight of the awning. 

"And what's special about it?" 

Catching sight of it down the walkway, there was the same line down the walk that there always was at this time of day. The patio was warm and glimmering in the sunlight, tiny cups of coffee and pastries out on the tables beside people who brought their journals and laptops. Conversations in French fluttered in the wind, carrying inspiration.

"This is where a bunch of artists, and authors, and philosophers would come and sit and make some of the stuff that's now in the museums. Amazing stuff has come from here," she said, wonder in her tone. What would it have been like to be those people, scribbling away in journals or sketching on napkins unknowing of what would come later.

Looking down at her, Harry crooked an eyebrow. "Yeah?" he asked, the golden sun ferreting out the bright flecks in the moss of his eyes. 

"Mhm," she hummed, a beaming smile on her face, "It's a little bit of a tourist trap now, but I still think it's special." 

A beat passed, Harry's observant eyes grazing over the planes of her face. "Let's go then, yeah?" 

(Y/N) felt the creases beside her eyes deepen with the width of her smile. "Yeah," she repeated, her voice sounding softer than she'd ever heard without cameras present. 

Approaching the end of the line, (Y/N) could hear murmurings of the wait time. The estimates were closer to that of an hour before they would be offered a table—and that's assuming that the patio patrons don't linger. 

Rolling her lips between her teeth, (Y/N) began inching around the line in hopes of catching a glimpse of those on shift. She played with the edges of her acrylics as she weighed her options. 

Turning back to face Harry, she started towards the front of the line. "I'll be right back." 

"Where are you going?" Harry pressed, stepping to follow her on instinct. 

"I'm just going to check on something, but wait right here. I'll be back in a second," she promised, shooting him a small smile. 

After a beat, Harry stood down. "Jus' stay where I can see you, please," he conditioned, his hands coming to clasp together at his front. 

With that, (Y/N) continued towards the front in hopes of seeing a familiar face. While there was a bit of guilt over the privilege of being recognized in places like these, special treatment coming around from certain people, there were days like these where she intended to bury it away. If being recognized and taking up favors allowed for Harry to have a special day, that's what she would do. 

That's why she didn't feel so bad when she saw the familiar face of one of the higher ups of the cafe, his brown eyes widening when he took her in through the glass entryway. 

"(Y/N), mon chéri! Bonjour, bonjour!" he bubbled off as he stepped around the awaiting patrons.  He greeted her with open arms, happily wrapping her in a hug before pressing a duo of kisses to her cheeks. 

(Y/N) fawned under the attention, "Bonjour, Benoit! Je suis si heureux de te voir! J'avais peur que tu me manques ce soir." 

Onlookers watched their interaction, none seemingly paying much attention to who (Y/N) was other than the fact she was cozying up with someone of the establishment. 

"Je ne savais même pas que tu étais à Paris, ma chérie," Benoit mused, his words tumbling over each other the way they always did with the amount of energy that seemed to always be coursing through him. He began inching her towards the entrance, soft hand on her elbow, "Je suis content que tu ne m'aies pas manqué non plus, allez allez."

"C'était un voyage de dernière minute, donc je n'ai pas eu l'occasion de le dire à beaucoup de gens," she responded, sinking her feet in before she could wander out of Harry's line of sight, "Mais, j'ai amené un ami avec moi cette fois, ça te dérange si je l'attrape d'abord?" 

Benoit dropped his hand from her, "Non, non ça ne me dérange pas!" 

He shooed her off with a flick of his wrist, expectantly waiting for her to return with her friend. 

Stepping around the line, she beckoned Harry to her with a short smile. 

"What's going on?" Harry murmured once he was close enough, head low to match his tone. 

"I know someone here, and I think he's going to get us a table early," (Y/N) mumbled, molding her features into a pleasant smile as they approached Benoit. 

(Y/N) just hoped Harry wouldn't think less of her for using this small advantage. She wanted to keep this special day going for him, even if that meant pulling a few strings so he would have a chance to eat sooner rather than later. 

Rejoining her friend, she gestured to Harry with a flourish. "Benny, c'est Harry. C'est sa première fois à Paris, alors je lui ai montré tous les meilleurs spots aujourd'hui." 

Benoit fawned under the compliments, guiding them towards the entrance as he fanned himself over his shoulder. "Oh, alors bien sûr vous l'avez amené me rencontrer. Merci ma chérie, le sentiment est réciproque." 

Letting out a peal of laughter, (Y/N) took Harry's arm in her grasp and towed him behind. Following Benoit, she indulged in his idle chatter while they meandered through the full tables. Finding their way to the back, she saw as he muttered something to one of the servers, her eyes flitting over her manager's shoulder to spot her and Harry. Benoit dropped them off at a table farther in the back, as secluded as they could get in the crowded restaurant. 

He looked at her with an arched brow as he pulled out a chair for her. "C'est parfait, mon amour!" she answered his unsaid question. 

"Magnifique!" he cheered, pushing in her chair once she was situated against the cushioned bottom, Harry across the table. "Colette s'occupera de toi, mais dis-moi si tu as besoin de quoi que ce soit, ma chérie!"

Benoit left their table in a flourish, dramatically French as always. Directing her attention back to her companion, (Y/N) found Harry looking at her with his forearms on the table and raised brows. 

She felt a bit silly now, knowing he saw the whole interaction and the specific strings she pulled to get this table. "I've known him since I started coming to Paris by myself after I turned eighteen," she started, dropping her eyes to the menu in front of her, "He would check up on me a lot and make sure I was alright. He's like my older brother." 

"That's very nice of him," Harry murmured, that arch to his brow lowering, "What was his name, again?" 

"Benoit," she answered, reading over the French script on her menu, "I kinda feel bad about letting him have us skip the line, but at the same time, I'm really hungry." 

"I don't blame you," Harry muttered, amusement tinting his tone as he looked at his own menu. 

A beat of silence passed before she heard a quiet oh from across the table. 

"Hm?" (Y/N) hummed, taking her eyes off the laminate to land on Harry. 

He had his menu flat on the table, the glimmering script taking her eyes while he read it over. He startled at her question, his gaze flicking up towards her. 

"This place is jus'... different than what I thought," he shared. 

"What do you mean?" 

Rolling his neck, his head cushioned by his shoulders, she watched as he tried to find his words. "I thought this was a café, so I don't think I was expecting everything else." 

Glancing down at her menu, trying to find what would have taken him by surprise, she found the context. She couldn't imagine he knew much French, especially with the way she took the lead today when speaking to locals and understanding directions. The only thing she could see him clearly understanding were the gilded numbers beside the items. 

Ducking her head low, she craned her neck towards him as if they could really share a secret in this crowded restaurant. 

"It's definitely overpriced," she murmured to him, flicking her eyes to the menu in his hand, "There's better stuff for cheaper around the corner, but I think it's all about the experience. We're where some of the greatest people in history have sat." 

That phantom smile reached his lips once more as he looked at her over the table, buttery golden light reaching through the windows panelling the front. "I can see that," he mused, the impression of a dimple showing for just a moment to the right of his raspberry lips. 

She matched his smile, though hers was decidedly less hidden. She lingered in that space for another moment before pulling back. "I'll take care of everything today, anyway. Don't worry about it." 

No way was she going to let him pay for himself when this entire day was her idea, she decided. She doubted Harry would want to hear that, though, considering she was beginning to see just how seriously he took his job of her wellbeing. 

When she could still feel his eyes on her, something sharper behind his usual observant gaze, she decided to ignore the protests he would give. 

"Do you know what you want?" she asked instead, not taking her eyes off of the menu. 

When he didn't immediately answer, she peeked over the edge of her menu through the fan of her lashes. He had his eyes trained on the script once more, a pinch between his brows. Harry canted his head as he read. "Everything's in French." 

"Yeah," she responded simply.

A huff of laughter left him at her answer. "Yeah." 

"Do you want me to translate anything for you?" she asked, scooting her chair in that much more as if it would make a difference. 

"That might help," he accepted, "As 'm sure y'noticed today, I don't know really any French." 

Reaching across the table, she pointed through the categories on the menu, listing them off for Harry in English. "And, there's croissants and pastries and stuff, here," she finished, circling out the final section on the page. 

Harry squinted at the page, his head canted to the side as he examined for himself. "What's that?" he asked, pointing out one of the main courses, "That's a sandwich, right?" 

"Mhm," (Y/N) chirped, tipping her head to get a chance to run over the script, "It's a smoked salmon sandwich with avocado and fries, and a bunch of other yummy stuff." 

"Oh. How do you say it?"

"Club sandwich au saumon fumé 'petrossian',"(Y/N) responded simply in the French pronunciation of the meal, swirling the syllables into something fluid. Flicking her gaze up, she found his eyes trained on her.

When he was caught, he blinked down and pointed at another item on the menu. "What's that?" 

Following his direction, she told him, "Snails, but they're these really big kind, an—" 

"No, no—in French." 

"Oh," she started, a pinch appearing in her brow. Nonetheless, she repeated her words in her alternate language, "Escargots géants et sauvages de Bourgogne."

Harry's eyes lingered on her before he pointed at the menu once more, another sandwich at the end of his finger. "This?" 

Though it was clear Harry wasn't necessarily paying much attention to what she was saying, but still she humored him. "Crottin chaud sur pain Poilâne poivré—it's just goat cheese on bread." 

This time, Harry didn't even look at where his finger landed randomly on the page, his eyes fixed on her. "This?" 

She couldn't keep her laughter in this time. "Harry," she smiled, "That's a croissant." 

Blinking with a flutter of his lashes, he finally looked at where his hand was pointing. "Oh, yeah," he agreed, a huff of soft laughter falling from his lips.

Giving up on the game, (Y/N) cradled her chin in her palm, elbow on the table. "I can teach you some French if you want?" 

Looking up at her, the length of his lashes highlighted in the draping sunlight. "Yeah?" 

"Of course," she agreed with a curling smile. Tracing her eyes over the menu, she randomly picked a wine from the list. Tilting the page towards him, with her finger pointing at the name. "Do you want to try saying this?" 

"Maybe," Harry mused, squinting his eyelids to take in the diacritics over the letters. 

"Just repeat after me: Hautes-Côtes de Beaune." She could feel Harry's eyes on her lips, her mouth wrapping around the syllables and twirling through the accent. 

A beat passed before Harry seemed to snap into the moment. He clumsily attempted to pronounce the wine, struggling with the first word as if he hadn't just heard how to say it. 

"No, no, like this," she said, with a soft breath of laughter, "Hautes-Côtes de Beaune." She emphasized the particle he stumbled over, dipping her chin and slowing her words. 

Once again, he murmured the incorrect pronunciation though he did a hair better than before. 

"Better," she praised, a caveat coming just from the tone of voice, "But try this: Hautes-Côtes de Beaune."

When he copied her once more, he somehow butchered the words that much more. (Y/N) couldn't help the peal of laughter that filled the space between them, rising over the dull roar of the restaurant. She could feel eyes flittering to her, taking in her disruptive presence with some recognizing her and others just annoyed in the most French of fashion. Though, (Y/N) didn't care. 

There was a part of her that had to know that he was playing up his inability, she liked thinking his guard might have fallen some. She remembered thinking that she couldn't imagine anything Harry couldn't handle or wasn't the best at. It wasn't much, but this was the most vulnerable she'd seen him, and all it took was a shaky accent and butchered French wine. 

"You'll get it soon," she breathed out a laugh, cradling her chin in her palm. 

"Yeah? You'll keep helping me, then?" he pressed, that ghost dimple pressing into his cheek. 

(Y/N) allowed her eyes to travel over his features. She took in the dusting of freckles on the bridge of his nose, the blonde stubble over his cheeks, the gentle lines on the corners of his eyes. If she wasn't careful, her bodyguard was going to be recruited for a runway show. 

"Of course," she confirmed, "You'll be like a local by the time we leave." 

And for a moment, she didn't find herself itching to know when that time would be.

—————

"How do y'say that?" 

"Tomate." 

"That?" 

"Carotte." 

"That?"

"Poireau." 

"That?" 

Looking up from the stall of the farmer's market (Y/N) was browsing, she looked at him with raised brows and a quiet smile. "Are you even trying to learn anymore, or are you just trying to see if I actually know French?" 

Quickly flicking his gaze up to match her own, Harry responded, "I mean, I think 'm learning." 

"Yeah?" she pressed, examining a stalk of celery from one of the stalls, "What are we making for dinner, then?" 

(Y/N) couldn't deny the tiny bit of pleasure she got over hearing him gum around the accented words she told him before they started out for the farmer's market. 

"Close!" she chirped, offering a smile to the attendant of the vegetable stall.

"Yeah?" Harry asked, his features brightening from the corner of her eye. 

 "Mhm," she hummed, placing the onion, celery, and tomatoes she wanted on the checkout station at the end of the stall, "With an accent it would be gougeres and bisqué. But, we'll work on that." 

Harry left her be as she conversed with the stall worker, working out the pricing for her ingredients before moving on with the vegetables now stowed in her tote bag. 

Meandering through the stalls, Harry followed behind, diligently scanning the crowd. Even if (Y/N) had stepped out of the public eye for the time being, he didn't slack on his job. Without removing his eyes from the crowded market, he spoke to her in his smooth tone. 

"And a bisque is a soup right?" he murmured. 

(Y/N) hummed in confirmation, having led them to a further back stall with panels of ice spread out under an extensive tent. Spread across the ice was fresh seafood in the form of chilled crabs and bags of large prawns. Lobsters and whole fix were kept in the back, clams and mussels nestled in-between cubes of replenished ice. 

"Isn’t it a little... hot for soup?" Harry prodded from behind her. 

Shrugging, (Y/N) absently answered, "That's what you'd think. Then you have some soup and realize it doesn't really matter what the weather is, soup is always good." Taking a step towards the table, she looked at him, "This is the last thing we need, then we can go." 

He didn't have a chance to respond before (Y/N) was selecting seafoods to be added to their bisque, the last thing on the list before they would need to head back to the apartment. He stood back as she plucked up her ingredients and spoke to the attendant, feeling his eyes on her as she went.

With her tote now filled with her finds, the shells of the crabs pinging against the bottle of white wine beside it, she gave the worker a smile before turning to Harry. Just in time with her own departure, another patron made their move through the tent, blindly crashing into her. His head of dark hair was a flash from the corner of her eye, mumbled apologies being offered in broken French. Before (Y/N) could give much of a response, Harry was at her side. 

Positioning himself in between (Y/N) and the other man, Harry slipped into his bodyguard role, protecting her from even the smallest of accidents. He steadied her on her feet, ensuring she was balanced with a hand on her elbow and another slipping around her waist. The man who had bumped into her was blocked off, rushing away after another muttered apology with his eyes on the ground. 

"Are y'okay?" Harry murmured, towing her to one of the further corners of the tent, away from the other shoppers. 

She nodded her head, allowing him to keep his lingering hold on her before he pulled away. "I'm okay. Sorry," she told him, peering around him in hopes of finding the man to assure him it was alright. Unfortunately, he had slipped away already. Maybe it was from how quickly everything moved, the way the man appeared then seamlessly entered in with the crowd once more, but (Y/N) she recognized the flash of his features she saw. She shook her head from the though, placing her attention back on Harry. "I wasn't looking where I was going." 

His observant gaze flitted over her form, his hands drifting from her. "'S alright, as long as you're okay," he assured her, "M'job has been a lot easier here, so I don't mind stepping in if y'need." 

"Paris is always a little bit easier for me," she told him, following after him as he inched out of the seafood stall into the stream of patrons outside. "I don't think I'm that recognizable here, so that always helps after something like what happened at the Gala." 

Harry visibly tensed as he fell into step beside her. "Have y'heard from your dad at all?" he asked, his gaze cast out ahead of them. 

A beat passed. 

"No. Have you?" 

Harry's jaw ticked at her question. "He's talked to me some, yes." 

(Y/N) left the conversation there, unwilling and uninterested in what that conversation looked like. She doubted it was positive when it came to her.

"You're ready to head back?" Harry prodded after a moment, decidedly less tense after the silence. 

"Yes, please," she answered simply. 

—————

Spreading her mail across the tiled counter, (Y/N) froze when she felt an envelope that was a little too heavy to belong amongst the thin slips. 

While she knew it was slowly beginning to leak that she had escaped to Paris, blurry photos resurfacing with people questioning if it could really be her, she figured it would be too up in the air for a letter like this to show up. 

Slipping her finger under the flap of the creamy envelope, (Y/N) couldn't help her curiosity. What kind of photos could have been obtained when she swore she didn't see a single person following her, a single professional camera aimed in her direction. Harry would have no doubt seen anything out of the ordinary. She couldn't imagine anything slipping under his watch, let alone an envelope's full. 

Taking advantage of the time she had alone, Harry using the restroom before he would be used as an extra pair of hands, she pulled out the glossy photos. 

Photos of her stepping into her apartment building greeted her first, her pilates uniform adorning her body. Harry had been cropped from the shot, but the edge of his arm could be seen from where he followed behind her. Others of her going to the studio, climbing into Harry's car, sightseeing around the city were in the bundle. There were shots of them at the Eiffel Tower, cruising the pedestrian walkways, catching dinner at the café. There were even pictures of them on the train together, close enough to capture her shock when she almost stumbled after the jolting take off. 

It was odd to say the least. Not once in any of those places—especially on the train—had she spotted a camera that could produce the kind of quality these photos possessed. 

Underneath them all was a letter. The paper was soft against the pads of her fingers, the edges of her nails catching the folded seam. She swallowed at the sight of the worn paper. 

This was the first time in at least a year that she even opened one of these envelopes, she wasn't sure she could stomach reading a letter at the same time. 

Just then, the sound of the sink running filtered into her brain. Harry would be out here soon, and he couldn't see this. 

In a split second, she collected the photos in a jumbled mess and slipped them back inside the envelope. She practically sprinted across the apartment to her room. The letter found a new home in the bottom drawer of her vanity, under a stack of eyeshadow palettes she rarely used anymore. 

She emerged from her room at the same time Harry stepped into the common room. His eyes were cast towards the kitchen where she was sure he expected to find her. 

"When do y'think dinner will be ready?" he asked, flicking his eyes towards her once he caught her leaving her room. 

Forgetting the letter in her room, the small fire she doused in the vanity drawer, she gave him a look with raised brows. "You don't think you're helping?"

—————

"Harry, just keep stirring. I promise it's almost done." 

(Y/N) didn't have to turn to see the impatient slump of his shoulders at her words. She had tasked him with watching the bisqué while she prepped the seafood that would be plopped in at the end, and infusing the butter that was to be dropped in during serving. It wasn't a hard job he was in charge of, but it was one that she would rather be delegated to him. 

"I've been stirring for thirty minutes now," he complained again, his voice closer to that of a petulant child than the calm security detail she knew him to be. 

"It's been, like, five, but okay," she bubbled back, a smile audible in her tone. 

It was almost endearing to see him like this, she thought. He'd never played with her before like this, given her this kind of leeway and release under his walls. 

"(Y/N)," he tried again, as if saying her name was enough to convince her. 

Carrying her cutting board of prepped seafood—rich crab and tiny shrimp—she came up behind him on careful steps. "Okay, okay," she relented, "We just need to put the crab and everything in, let it simmer for another five minutes since we already cooked it, and then it's done. Can you handle that?" 

"Finally," Harry sighed, acting as if pounds of weight were being lifted off of his shoulders. All because he couldn't handle stirring a soup for longer than a handful of minutes. 

Letting out a huff of laughter, she shook her head. From the corner of her eye, she definitely caught those dimples in his cheeks once more, this time a little less than those of a phantom. 

"Go deal with the gougeres, then. I'll finish the bisqué." 

"Okay," he mumbled, a little too eager to let go of the wooden spoon he had been equipped with. As he approached the cooling pan of the small savory pastries, (Y/N) could hear him attempting to pronounce the name in a proper accent. 

A grin stretched across her features at the sound. 

Soon enough, the bisqué was doled out between wide bowls, a dollop of butter dropped on top with Harry's arranged platter of gougeres in the middle. The balcony drapes were wide open, allowing a view over the city, buttery and warm under the waning light. The ladder of the Eiffel Tower glimmered like gold in the light, the green around it that much more vivid in the distance. 

(Y/N) waited to take her first bite, resisting the lumps of crab meat and spiced broth in front of her, until Harry took his spot across. She was surely a little too eager to see him take his first bite, to catch his reaction. 

"I want you to try it first," she told him once he was settled in, a toothy smile on her features. 

"Yeah?" he asked, already picking up the wide spoon she had selected for him. He flicked his gaze up to match hers with raised brows. 

(Y/N) only answered with a small nod, a little too distracted from the view of his eyes. 

He maintained that eye contact with her as he scooped up a fruitful bite, taking to heart that she wanted him to try it first in hopes of learning his reaction. She wanted to feel unnerved by it, awkward knowing that he wasn't wavering in the contact, but she couldn't find that in her when she was glancing at the bits of sunlight amongst the green. 

Taking that first bite, it took half a second before Harry was humming with his full mouth. He was impressed, that much she could tell from the reverence he gave as he looked down at his bowl. "This is good—really good." 

Practically bouncing in her seat, (Y/N) bubbled, "I told you so! All the stirring was worth it, huh?" 

Canting his head, Harry playfully contemplated her words. "I guess so," he relented with a heavy sigh. 

A lopsided smile touched at the very corner of his mouth. 

Blinking her eyes with a flutter of her lashes, (Y/N) tried not to be too fixated on the half smile he was offering her. "Try it with one of the gougeres!"

Feeling vindicated, (Y/N) began her own meal, scooping up a hearty bite of the bisqué, steam rolling off the bite. She couldn't wait for it to cool, chancing that heated bite in favor of trying it sooner rather than later. 

"I don't know what you're getting at, but I have a feeling you know 'm going to say this is good, huh?" Harry teased, reaching for one of the cheese pastries from the platter. 

"Sure," she said, swallowing down the rich soup, "But, I like to hear it anyway." 

Shaking his head a little, he scooped up the bisqué with the help of the gougere. "Do you always cook like this?" he asked, allowing the tomato broth to soak the treat, "I didn't notice anything like this back in the States." 

"Sometimes," she said in-between her own bites, savoring the spice she added to the broth, "when I have the time. But I tru to make the time whenever I can. It's one of my favorite things to do." 

"Cooking?" Harry pressed, sinking into the conversation between indulgent bites of dinner. 

She nodded her head with a hum, stealing her own gougere. "It's really fun to me," she explained, "When I was little, my parents were gone a lot so I spent a lot of time with the chefs we had, so I learned a lot then. When I started at my private school, though, that's when I started making my own stuff for me and my friends. It's just been one of those things that's stuck with me." 

Harry watched her intently, soaking her in with those observant eyes. She could see him making connections in his head, fitting puzzle pieces of her in his head. The thought made (Y/N) want to squirm. At the same time she was itching to know what kind of picture he was threading of her, she dreaded to know any kind of detail. 

"What did I tell you, though?" she started, changing the subject with her gaze falling from him, "Soup is good all the time—even in the summer." 

Nodding his head, Harry pursed his lips. "Today, I will allow you to be right. Jus' today, though." 

Sinking into the moment, she allowed a peal of laughter to fall from her lips. Harry looked at her with a hidden smile. his teeth keeping him from fully grinning even if (Y/N) swore she could see that kind of amusement in his eyes. 

—————

Fran🫧

    guess what !!! 

Sipping on her purple juice, (Y/N) read her text messages before she would commit to her post-pilates shower for the morning. 

   what !!!???

A beat passed while (Y/N) swiped to another app, a video of a decadent dessert recipe on her screen. Francesca didn't wait very long to respond, the notification getting (Y/N)'s eyes to widen and her immediate rerouting to her message thread. 

Fran🫧

    im on a flight to Paris rn :) 

Sitting up straight from where she was lounging on her bed, (Y/N) typed back an immediate response. 

      are you serious right now???? 

      ur joking right 

In response, a selfie of Francesca came through, her smiling face backed by the pristine leather of her private jet with her favorite pajama set adoring her torso. 

      Francesca stop 

      youre kidding right :( 

Fran🫧

       im not joking!!!! 

       I wanted to visit you !!! its been almost a month (Y/N):( I missed you!!!! 

(Y/N) was practically thrumming with excitement. She hadn't realized how much she missed her best friend until she was presented with the opportunity to be reunited with her.

       when are you landing!!!!!! 

       if you can we need to do dinner or something! 

Fran🫧

        ofc we do ! I'll text u when I land and when I get to my place and then I'll see what im doing and if im not too jet lagged

         Emma was also thinking about coming this weekend too but last I checked she was seeing what stavros is doing 

         bc shes obsessed rn 

(Y/N) huffed out laughter at her message. She missed Emma too, more than she expected to considering Emma hadn't even known she was on her way out before she had booked her flight. 

       at least she's happy I guess sufhsufhsu 

      im so excited to see you ive miss u so much!!!!!! 

When Francesca's response bubble didn't immediately pop up, (Y/N) locked her phone, flouncing out of her room with a bubbling grin. Pulling open her bedroom door, she saw Harry cleaning up the kitchen from the morning's breakfast before her pilates class, his head whipping up to catch her emergence. 

"Harry, guess what!" 

"What?" he asked, swiping a cloth across the counter. 

"Fran is coming to visit," (Y/N) rushed out, "She's on a flight right now!" 

"Francesca?" he asked, his movements slowing as he looked at her with raised brows. 

"Yes! She just texted me," she explained, her grin sticking to her cheeks, "And, Emma might be able to come out this weekend." 

It was practically visible the way the gears in his head began turning. Apprehension appeared as he leant against the lip of the counter. "That's exciting," he granted her, "What plans do y'have with her?" 

That was her security speaking then. He was the one with thinned lips and narrow eyes. 

"I'm not sure yet," she said, gesturing with her smoothie and phone in hand, "I'm just thinking about dinner with Fran when she lands, but I'm sure if Emma's able to make it out, we'll want to go out together." 

He gave her a slow nod, things working behind the scenes as he blinked at her. "Okay." 

The longer that beat of silence rang on, (Y/N) felt unease creep in. Maybe Harry didn't trust her as much as she thought. 

She'd been doing so well since he helped her out of that rut those first few days, but maybe he worried bringing her friends back into the equation would elicit something he hoped they left back in New York. She wondered if he had those pictures of her in mind, the runny mascara and panic she had in the bathroom of the gallery. 

Leveling her energy, she made a point to meet his contemplative gaze. "I promise I'll behave. I won't cause any trouble or anything." 

Shaking his head, Harry dismissed her in a moment. "'M not worried about that, (Y/N)." 

Unable to school her features, she felt her eyes widen and posture straighten. She couldn't think of a time when she wasn't anticipated as the trouble maker. 

"You're not?" 

Blinking out of his head, Harry shook his head again, meeting her eyes with intention. "Don't worry about me, okay?" he told her, voice gentle in the space between, "Its m'job to think of all the scenarios and everything, but 's not something y'need to concern yourself with. Let me do that, you jus' have fun." 

Though she was a bit dumbstruck, unable to really understand how to move forward without that kind of expectation following her, she still nodded her head. Nonetheless, even if Harry wasn't looking for that kind of promise, she would give it to herself. She wasn't going to stir any kind of drama or trouble. 

She'd make Harry proud.

—————

Francesca, leaning over the dinner table with a makeup free face and her travel clothes on her form, gave (Y/N) a sly smile. 

"So," she started, her voice low as if Harry wasn't already two rooms away from their conversation, privacy being the only other person joining their table, "your bodyguard." 

Nodding her head, (Y/N) plucked a piece of brie from the cheese board they were sharing, "Yeah?" 

"Did something happen?" Francesca pressed, something glimmering in her eyes. 

A pinch appeared between (Y/N)'s brows. "What do you mean?" 

Rolling her brown eyes, Francesca gave her an incredulous look. "Even I've seen those pics of you two at the Eiffel Tower"—honestly, (Y/N) didn't even know there were photos of them together then, having deleted her socials the day after the letter was posted to the penthouse—"and walking in here feels less like your penthouse and more like a... nest for you too. You even line your shoes up next to one another." 

Taken aback, (Y/N) could feel the way her features screwed up at Fran's remarks. "You're silly, Fran," she said, focusing on the cracker she was loading with cheese. 

Francesca shook her head and stood her ground, light amusement curling her lips. "You're lying, and you know it." 

"I'm not, though," (Y/N) countered, covering her mouth as she took a bite of the crumbly cracker. 

Shrugging, Francesca focused on her own overloaded cracker. "Maybe it's him then," she offered, looking at (Y/N) with that sly curve to her lips, "I don't know, all I'm saying is that the vibes are very different from the last time I saw you—and him. Every time he walks out here, it's like he doesn't even see me. He's only looking at you." 

"He's my bodyguard," (Y/N) stated, as if Fran could forget the fact. "He checks on me." 

"Checking you out," Francesca emphasized, hiding her teasing smile behind a sip of red wine. 

It was (Y/N)'s turn to roll her eyes, trying her best to bite back her laughter. "You're so annoying," she teased, "I should've known you were going to say something stupid like that." 

"Whatever," Francesca dismissed, reaching for her phone, "I want to make a post on my Story with you, though. So, pose cute with your wine or something. People are going to go crazy, knowing you're alive outside of blurry pics." 

"People think I'm dead?" (Y/N) laughed, sipping from her wine before fluffing her hair.

Fran shook her head, swiping through her camera to find the right preset. "You'd be surprised how man people actually believe grocery store magazines. Even Damien Moore reached out to Toriana to see if she knew where you were, it's so weird."

"Damien?" she blanched, features screwing up at the mention of his name.

"That was my reaction too," Fran shared, waving her phone in her hand, "I was hoping we'd never have to hear from him again after what happened, but obviously he loves drama."

Rolling her eyes, (Y/N) couldn't agree more. Definitely the worst of the boys her father tried to set her up with.

When Francesca held her phone up, the camera facing them, (Y/N) didn't hesitate to pose. She cradled her glass of wine and got in close to Fran, curling her lips into a warm smile. The buttery lighting of the apartment with the shimmering Paris night leaking in through the windows, (Y/N) felt pretty when she glanced at the reflection. 

Over the edge of Fran's phone, she could see Harry stepping out of the hallway, his steps silent. Though she tried not to pay attention, she couldn't help but to notice the way he really didn't allow his eyes to trace anywhere but her, even when they were doing something as innocent as posing for photos. 

Even when Francesca lowered her phone and went about prepping the photo for posting, Harry didn't step away too quickly. He lingered, the warmth of his gaze on her. 

Surely, he could just be checking on her, noticing how quiet the room became when they started whispering about him and going silent for the photos, but (Y/N) found herself not resenting the other option Francesca presented.

She didn't hate the idea of Harry looking at her just for the sake of looking at her. 

Whatever that was supposed to mean for her.

—————

flâner means to wander aimlessly around a city.

a little change of scenery and time together before we get into some more fun stuff! thank u sm for reading, sorry for any mistakes, and if you have any thoughts or ideas let me know!

[forsoobado137]

Hi , i discovered your account a little while ago and i really enjoyed your nation revealed au posts and i wanted to know if you had more France nation revealed au headcanons because your posts about him are hilarious and he's my favourite character

OUAIS FRANCEEEEE! Oh my god there's so much. He would thrive in the spotlight. He's very charming and good looking, so he knows how to control public opinion. I'm not trying to say that every citizen loves him, but he's a very admired national treasure. The French gov takes advantage of this and tries to make him announce things so they'll be taken more lightly. He attends political press conferences and stuff, but he's usually there to look pretty and distract people from getting mad. It's become a bit of a meme like "when they bring out Mr. France, shit's going to hit the fan."

He's been in a few movies back in the day. But he was usually cast as an extra because the gov didn't want whatever erotic scene he was in to "taint the national reputation". He usually does voice cameos in movies now, and he DEFINITELY made a cameo in Ratatouille (he had one line). The only physical cameos he makes are in historical documentaries.

As the "nation of fashion", He's also starred in many beauty commercials, and has been on many magazine covers (duh). He attends fashion shows to support designers, and his tweets during fashion week are always a highlight. He starts a lot of trends too. Luxury brands see his influence and trample over each other for his endorsement.

His social media personality depends on the site. I made a more in depth post here, but I'll sum it up. His twitter is where he posts his "philosophical musings" with a side of memes. His Instagram is where he is in peak slut form, but he posts normal French stuff periodically to get his boss off his back. His Tiktok is a mix of Twitter and Insta, but more focused on making cooking videos and trends. He also loves posting about his cat, and makes matching outfits for him. he often features other nations in his posts, and films them doing mundane silly things.

Since France is the most visited country in the world, he has a lot of interactions with tourists. He does his whole "charming Frenchman" schtick and gives little tours around Paris. He also does tours at the Louvre, though he usually cares more about the paintings involving himself. Despite the fun, he always has to deal with people being disrespectful and entitled to him. It's even worse now in the age of the internet, where everyone's trying to have their fifteen minutes of fame. People record themselves trying to ask him on a date, flirt with him, kiss him, and other things when he's just trying to get his coffee. He politely turns them down, but he's punched many a tourist before.

France has also been in some scandals. He's had many sex scandals. Too many to count. So many that it's not even considered a scandal when he's caught sleeping with powerful people or being indecent in public. He's a very passionate person. He has been arrested many times, often while at protests. He can also get very confrontational with the paparazzi on a bad day. Those videos often go viral, and people talk about how "unhinged" he is (and say he's "iconic" or whatever). Obviously, his outbursts and police confrontations are a very bad look for the gov. But there's not much they can do to stop him without public backlash. So usually they make him apologize.

He's often invited to talk shows and interviews both in France and abroad. For the serious interviews, it's usually about political and historical stuff. For talk shows, it's a mix of "he's so hot" and trying to make a spectacle out of his eccentric moments. Hosts are usually respectful, but English-speaking ones will often poke fun at his English, and sometimes do stuff like "say squirrel" to laugh at his accent. They'll also joke about his "meltdowns" and stuff (half the time they're moments where he's in mental distress).

[rintoorou]

ALOHA, HAWAII — also featuring

msby’s star setter MIYA ATSUMU is happily engaged to their (his) ace sakusa kiyoomi. he loves the beach because that’s where he realized he was falling for his rival-turned-partner. seriously needs to get his own publicist, especially after the release of his fiancé’s calvin klein ad.

SAKUSA KIYOOMI may not look like it, but he’s so stupidly in love with his fiancé. originally wanted an italian wedding but it doesn't really matter, as long as it's atsumu. he’s obviously not the overbearing relative type—he doesn’t read the messages in the family gc (or anything on socmed really)—and he’s glad yn isn’t, too.

no one knows where the hell MIYA OSAMU is if not at onigiri miya. pay him a visit thinking he’s at home but you open instagram to see him on a plane to venice. posts cooking videos on tiktok and goes viral every other week. is it the recipes? his biceps? he's winning eitherway.

KENMA KOZUME is the permanent dent on the couch in yn's office. the big shot that likes to hole himself up in her suite to avoid confrontation (yn lets him, even if he acts like he wants to fire her). he’s grown a lot from the timid boy in high school, but still, he’d prefer if it were only yn or kuroo in his company.

masterlist — the leads — next

notes other characters will also make their appearances here and there but these are the ones you'll mainly see :P kenma's header is just a 5 min job on canva LOL

taglist @ilyless @strxwberri-s @bbybibi @milesmoralesluvs @hanniemylovelyquokka @nbcvs @crispchocolates @atlasnessie @cnnmairoll @trash-master-3000 @tojirin @megumiif @chemiru @theycallmenanamisgirl @neoclb @krissiekris @nyxlai

[newsfromstolenland]

the kendrick/drake beef going viral has really brought the "rap is so violent :(" white people on this website out of the woodwork

because yes, it involves them generalizing about black art, but it's also them policing how black people are allowed to talk and express themselves

talking shit about rappers who talk about violence is no different than shitting on AAVE, or telling people of colour to be "nicer" and less confrontational

white people are so fucking used to having a monopoly on violence that they don't even notice expressions of violence from other white people. but you can bet that the second a black person incorporates expressions of violence into their art, there's gonna be a fuck ton of pearl clutching

cops and the military and pretty much any white person can enact violence on black people without any accountability, but god forbid a black person raps about violence

no one is forcing white people to listen to rap. the problem is that white people who don't know a damn thing about the history and subculture of rap are deciding that they're an authority on something they know nothing about, and loudly telling anyone who will listen what they think

and what they have to say is always some way of calling rap immoral and sinful. but of course they won't use those words. they're too progressive for that! instead they'll just imply over and over, and then name a white rapper that they don't mind to prove they've listened to rap.

you're no better than people having a moral panic over violent video games or metal or punk. if anything you're worse, because your moral panic is specifically directed at black artists

you don't have to listen to rap, but just shut the fuck up about it

[povlnfour]

Charles Leclerc + childhood friends to lovers also congrats on the 1k 🎉❤️

from the 1k drabble game

ੈ✩‧₊˚ BEING CHILDHOOD FRIENDS TO LOVERS (CL16)

— having known each other since you were children, fans were used to you in charles’ life. you featured in a lot of his instagram photos from when he first made the account up until now, and people had come to love little insights into your dynamic.

— most notably tiktoks went viral of the two of you squabbling in his vlogs and streams, there was never any heat to it, but everyone was obsessed with the way you called him out like no other.

— in an entire contrast, your instagram posts dedicated to each others achievements were always super sweet and supportive — a juxtaposition to the videos of you that people came to love. everyone admired to duality of your friendship.

— you don’t really remember when you fell in love with charles; there wasn’t a eureka moment, it just seemed to appear one day. as if it had always sort of been there bubbling under the surface.

— for a while after the realisation you panicked, pushing him away to protect yourself until charles confronted you at your apartment door.

— he knew without even having to ask, and to your surprise he kissed you on your doorstep, confessing the same emotions he had harbored for years.

— when you announced your relationship by a simple kiss after charles won a race, fans lost their mind, calling your love a fairytale romance. charles dedicated a whole post to you that night, telling you everything he had always wanted to say.

[jinnie-ret]

<---------- back to my youth

<---------- back to main masterlist

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

profile

in real life

Name: Louisa Flora Fenby

Nicknames: lou, flo, lisa, bee

Birthday: 28/06/2003

Birthplace: Rochdale, England

Nationality: english-filipino

Languages: English (fluent), Tagalog (some), Korean (learning)

Family: mum, dad, younger brother, pet cat

Height: 5'5

Personality traits: bubbly, trusting, thoughtful, imaginative, sensitive, defensive, naive

Hobbies: singing, producing, crochet, upcycling clothes

Faceclaim: beabadoobee

Likes: stray kids, kpop, sunny weather, giving gifts to people, cooking, dark chocolate (her fav), gherkins in her burger, green (fav colour), late night walks, long baths, cats

Dislikes: confrontation, brussel sprouts, sparkling water, moths, snakes, socks on in bed, big crowds

idol life

Stage name: sunny

Nicknames: sun, sunshine, flower, aegi sun

After hearing Louisa's full name and learning her middle name was 'Flora', the members soon understood that it was linked to flowers. Due to her bright personality she was compared to a sunflower, thus creating the nickname Sunny.

Fans gave the nickname 'aegi sun' to Louisa after partnering her with Felix as the sunshine duo. Being the younger one she is naturally babied.

Positions: lead singer, sub dancer, producer

Lou is not as confident in her dancing skills but is working on them as much as she can, she still enjoys doing it though. Her voice shines through as a softer time that can break through and stand out in Stray Kids' often fiercer songs. This doesn't mean that all the songs she produces are all sweeter, her own music that she creates follows this pattern but she loves to engage in helping 3RACHA experiment in louder bombastic sounds.

Aesthetic: bubblegrunge

Debut Date: March 25th 2017

Company: JYP

Training Period: 2 years

Habits: making random noises, hair flips, randomly singing, stumbling on her words, biting her thumb, full body laughs, tapping her hands to music, zoning out

Known for/as:

Pinky gap

Sunny has a gap between her pinkies that is visible when she presses her hands together. This is because both of them curve outwards. Fans were the first ones to notice and ever since it's been seen as another endearing quality of the girl.

Minsung's daughter

When you see Sunny you'll not see Lee Know or Jisung too far behind. Often in lives she's been spotted leaning against one of them or even falling asleep on them sometimes. They care a lot for the girl and their almost parental roles towards her only solidified the ship of Minsung more.

Sunshine duo

One of her most noticeable features is the freckles that are very visible on her face. Naturally she is partnered with Felix for sharing the same quality, as well as their bright personas.

Bright smile

Sunny's smile is one of her most charming points that both fans and members love. There are moments where people have commented on it because of how it entrances them, such as on Kingdom, Music Bank, and in music videos too.

Producer mode

During solo lives or behind the album videos, when Sunny goes into producer mode, you'll know. She doesn't become strict or lost in her own mind, but instead she is exciteable and tries out lots of different sounds, melodies or lyrics to fit the concept she is creating. These ideas that she comes up with bounce off of members and can be the foundations of some of Stray Kids' most successful songs. On lives fans watch in awe at how her brain is able to come up with such cool sounds and merge them together.

Trying tiktok dances

As said before, Sunny isn't the most confident in her dancing, but that doesn't stop her from trying different tiktok dances and impulsively posting them - she knows stays will love them either way. She likes trying new kpop dances or ones that are viral too. The video she did dancing to Blackpink's Shutdown is her most recent video she posted on the group account, and it caught a lot of attention.

Soft voice

Sunny has a voice that people love and can't stop listening too. She is quite soft spoken, but that doesn't stop people from absorbing every word. Being in a group as loud as Stray Kids, she still manages to make herself heard, especially when it's random statements or jokes that she's sharing.

Random statements

"Bang Chan tried to crowdsurf and then he fell but he got stuck because his ass is too fat."

"Sunny?! What?!"

"I should shut up now."

'British Queen'

Sunny comes from a town in Manchester, her Northern accent only making her more charming to her fans. And of course with one of her 'dads' being Han, the British comments from stays were at an all time high in moments he adopted the same accent.

'he's learning from his daughter'

'Sunny's accent is rubbing off on Han ahahaha'

'since when was aegi sun teaching her parents how to speak british??'

'Comedy Queen'

Even her energetic moods were enough to get the members into a fit of giggles, let alone the strange noises she'd make or her random one liners.

"Bleurrgh"

"Sunny we don't know how to translate that one."

~

"Sweet home Alabama..."

"Sunny sssshhhhh"

The members definitely loved their sun a lot, and she always managed to surprise them whether it was with her talent, her humour or with little gifts she'd make them too.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

tagged: @skz-streamer @kiraisastay @hannahhbahng @kpopmenace143 @sakufilms @kai-lee08 @arloo00 @dunno-wut-to-do @splat00z @cheesemonky @his-angell @turtledove824 @2minstan @royal-shinigami @yangbbokari

[kaciidubs]

hey ml, long time no see! i feel like it’s been a while since i sent a request and i had an idea pop into mind!

fem! skz manager x ot8!skz where the reader is a hidden song artist and has loads of albums that have gone viral. Her identity gets leaked whilst on the way to the airport for skz’s tour. The boys are confused about why everyone is taking photos and videos of their manager and then they later find out why and after listening to some of her songs (2000s lady gaga style music) they confront her about it?

Hi my baby! Sorry this took me so long to get to, but we're here now~ It's not much but I hope you like it.

It genuinely wasn't meant to be a secret, you just didn't think you needed to discern your less-than-usual past as you secured the position of managing the leaders of K-Pop's fourth generation.

What they didn't know wouldn't hurt, right?

Well, you'd hoped it remained that way until you started garnering some unintended attention every time you would travel with the boys; camera lenses pointed in your direction more often, fans vying to get your attention alongside the boys' - it got to the point where security was starting to protect you almost as much as the kids.

None of them were the wiser to this influx of attention - you were pretty, and one of the few public female representatives to Stray Kids' management team, so it only seemed like an odd natural step to your association with them; at least, that was until a few fans chanted a name they hadn't heard before.

Hyunjin was the first to jump into looking up the name's association on the plane's shoddy WiFi while on their way to Japan, and wouldn't you imagine his surprise when images of you - albeit a slightly younger version of you - popped up on his phone's screen on numerous YouTube thumbnails and articles.

It didn't take long for him to put two and two together - granted, the headline "Pop Princess becomes K-Pop Manager" did much of the heavy lifting - and several links were sent to the boys' online group chat; each reaction text grander than the last while you relaxed in your seat, none the wiser to their revelations.

Through the hustle and bustle of customs and baggage claim, everyone was soon settled in their respective hotel rooms, ready to tackle the first day of rehearsals and final adjustments - or so you thought, until you received a text from your group chat aptly named lost orphans.

Bread Boy: Noona!! Come to Changbin's room we have something to ask you 🙏🏻

Could you have ignored him and gone back to your show? Perhaps, but you knew the boys - whenever one of them requested your presence, it was best to see it through, no matter how silly it often turned out to be.

Shuffling your way down the hall, you pressed the spare key card to Changbin's room on the reader before letting yourself in - welcoming yourself to the sound of multiple conversations and faint music weaving throughout the atmosphere.

With the door closing to announce your arrival, you wandered further into the room to see each of the boys taking up space on the double queen beds. It wasn't until you you settled into the free desk chair that the song floating through the air began to tug at your memory.

"Is this...?"

"Your old music that you decided to keep a secret from us?" Seungmin looked at you with a playful smirk, holding this phone up, "Yeah, it is - and it's really good, by the way."

Now, was this a scene from your worst nightmare? Not exactly, but you were absolutely mortified at what they could've stumbled across from old interviews and - lord forbid, your old performances.

"Don't tease her," Minho chided, hitting the top of the younger's head, "you know there's probably a reason she didn't share it with us."

"Would you have told us eventually?" Jisung's wide, hopeful eyes bore into your own, "Because, really, these songs are amazing - did you write them yourself? Did you have a team? When did you start? Why did you stop?"

Hyunjin waved his hand, "Han, calm down - ask her anymore questions and you're gonna scare her off!"

"Guys, please." Each of the boys grew quiet at Chris's insistence, letting him take lead of the conversation at hand. "We didn't mean to just throw this at you but finding out our manager used to be a singer was just too amazing to pass up - I hope you're not mad at us for going behind your back and, in a way, invading your privacy?"

You took in his sympathetic expression before taking the time to look at each of the other boys, the mix of apologetic hope warming your heart and easing the worry that crept up your spine.

"It's okay - honestly, I knew it was going to come up eventually down the line, but I hoped at that time I would've gotten ahead of it enough to at least show you guys the better songs."

The tension in the air quickly dissipated at your playful tone, and the boys began heatedly discussing your old discography, performances, and whatever question they'd hoped you would answer.

"Would you ever go back to making music while being our manager?" Felix mused, nodding his head along to a new song now floating through the speaker.

"Follow up question, would you do a collab with us?" Changbin grinned, holding up his phone as if he were hosing an interview.

Jeongin held out a hotel notepad and pen, "Can I have your autograph?"

You went about answering as many of their questions as you could before you had to do your managerial duty of making sure they went to bed to have enough energy for their busy day the next morning - however, not without a promise that you'd continue the conversation after their schedule.

[Unedited]

[pebblepathblog]

Tiktoker DEPORTS Her Ex For Cheating On Her…| Justice or Cruelty?

The Breakup Revenge That Broke the Internet | A woman’s viral revenge has everyone questioning if she went too far

When it comes to breakups, some people cry, some binge watch The Notebook, and some hit the gym with a vengeance. But one Texas woman decided to deal with her breakup in a way that has left the internet stunned. Instead of the usual tears and block-button drama, she decided to get even, by deporting her cheating boyfriend back to Mexico.

Yes, you read that right. Deported.

This isn’t just your regular “he left the toilet seat up, so I ghosted him” kind of breakup revenge. This is the “pack your bags, buddy, because we’re going on a one-way trip” level of petty. This TikToker’s heartbreak turned revenge story has racked up over 34 million views, with the internet split between cheering her on and clutching their pearls.

Let’s rewind to how it all started.

It all began when she discovered his dirty little secret. She was innocently transferring photos from his phone after a vacation probably reminiscing about their happy times when, BAM. There it was, messages from another woman. Flirty, shady messages. Her world cracked open.

She did what many of us would do, locked herself in the bathroom to cry. But as her tears dried, her mind shifted from heartbreak to strategy. Should she confront him? Kick him out? Key his car? But no. This woman wasn’t about to settle for cliché breakup theatrics. She wanted justice. And justice, in this case, involved a very creative interpretation of “deportation services.”

And then, inspiration struck. If she could bring him to the U.S., she could certainly send him back.

The plan? bold, almost cinematic-level diabolical. She sweetly suggested a spontaneous trip to Six Flags in San Antonio. “It’s just two hours away,” she told him with the kind of smile that hides a storm. He, blissfully unaware, agreed.

Here’s where things get spicy. Before hitting the road, she made sure he was well-fed and emptied his bladder. Why? Because this wasn’t a trip to Six Flags, it was a one-way ticket to the Mexican border. She couldn’t risk him waking up mid-drive and figuring out the plot. Let’s be real, her attention to detail deserves an Oscar.

With him snoozing in the passenger seat, she had two hours alone with her thoughts. Part of her wondered if she was going too far. Was this too much? Would people judge her? But then she remembered the texts. That woman. Those messages. And just like that, her anger reignited. She turned up her music and told herself, ‘I brought him, I will return him’. She said in her video, unapologetic about her actions.

When they reached the border, he was still blissfully snoring. But Mexican customs agents flagged her car for a secondary inspection, and that’s when he woke up. Confused, groggy, and probably wondering, “Why does this Six Flags have barbed wire?”

The confrontation was swift and savage. She told him she knew everything, and his face, according to her, went pale. “You want to be a bastard? Fine. Be a bastard. But you’re starting from scratch,” she spat. She handed him $50 (a generous farewell gift, honestly) and told him to get out of her car. And just like that, she drove off, leaving him and his cheating ways in the rearview mirror.

TikTok? Absolutely ate it up.

The video racked up millions of views, with people either calling her a hero or clutching their pearls in horror. “Best breakup story of all time!” one commenter declared. Others joked, “Girl, you should’ve gone to Six Flags after and posted selfies with a churro!”. Another chimed in, “Immigration needs to hire this woman”.

But not everyone was laughing. Critics were quick to point out that her revenge was less “queen energy” and more “questionably legal.” Legal experts weighed in, warning that what she did could be classified as kidnapping or even human trafficking. And while she jokes in later videos that no one wants to go to Six Flags with her anymore, the ethical debate is hard to ignore.

And here’s the twist, her ex somehow managed to return to the U.S. She claims she doesn’t know how and doesn’t care. “To this day, I don’t regret it,” she said in one of her videos.

Let’s not sugarcoat it, getting cheated on is soul crushing. It makes you question everything, your judgment, your self worth, your WiFi password sharing policy. But weaponizing someone’s immigration status as a form of payback? That’s not just petty, it’s dangerous.

Undocumented immigrants live with constant fear and anxiety, every day is a tightrope walk. The possibility of deportation looms over them like a shadow, and for someone to exploit that vulnerability, even out of heartbreak, raises ethical questions. Was this revenge, justice, or something darker?

The internet is divided, and honestly, maybe that’s the point. This story isn’t just about a cheating boyfriend and a scorned girlfriend, it’s about how we handle pain, betrayal, and power dynamics in relationships.

One thing’s for sure, This TikToker’s story is unforgettable. Whether you see her as a hero or a cautionary tale, she’s left an impression. And while she might have driven away with her head held high, the moral complexities of her actions still linger in the air!

But let’s end on this note, heartbreak can make us irrational. It can make us mean. But it’s important to remember that our actions, even in our worst moments, can have consequences bigger than we imagine. Revenge might feel sweet in the moment, but it rarely leaves you with a clean conscience or a clean legal record.

Enjoyed this story? If you love thought provoking stories like this one, make sure to follow for more! From heartwarming tales to controversial debates, we’ll keep you entertained and leave you with plenty to think about.

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