#it isn’t the healthiest breakfast sure but who fucking cares

[plinkcat-gif]

skinny people saying “i can’t eat x cause i’ll get fat” is so annoying. it’s a fucking pop tart packet for breakfast. you’re not going to get fat after eating both you need those calories to make it to lunch

#it isn’t the healthiest breakfast sure but who fucking cares #tw food #tw weight #if this needs ​any more tags lmk #this is different than if she had told me ‘oh yeah i only eat one cause i’m full after one’ #and that would make more sense cause she’s like half my size lol #but ughgggg you just became the most annoying person on earth to me #disclaimer: i am a skinny person

[oh-styles]

Something About a Beginning: Part II

First off, I want to thank each and every one of you for your immense patience. (More so than others, but I digress.) Writing on such topics when you yourself aren’t in the most healthiest mentality is a struggle alone, but we got here. 

Second off, if you haven’t read the first part, you can so here. These chapters implicate bouts of depression and talks of miscarriage, so read at your own will. 

I do want to note that I mention Robin in this story, and I was hesitant to include him because I felt it wasn’t appropriate, because he shouldn’t be used as entertainment purposes (i.e. in stories) but I mention him only with love and respect.

Again, thank you for your patience, and happy reading.

July 3, 2019 London, England

Harry lost his girl.

She vanished in the night – gone with the wind – and all that remained was a ghost of a woman, transparent and bleak. He hasn’t seen her smile since that night, coming close to a week now, and his gut retches at the thought he might never get his girl back.

She’s buried herself in the sheets; the window is opened a crack, and he spots an empty bottle of melatonin laying overturned on her bedside table. He stares intently at her body, watching as the sheets rise and fall to the pattern of her placid breathing, and he thinks for a moment that she’s finally found herself a better place. Not dead—not by any means. Whatever dream world she has found herself delved in, he knows she might have found a sliver of peace there, hopefully smiling.

“She’s sleeping, mum.” Harry says into his phone, taking a step back to gently close the bedroom door. “Rande and Cindy invited us to Muskoka but…” His words hung in the air, like the elephant in the room, but his mother knew all too well what was lingering on the precipice of her sons’ tongue.

But she’s too depressed.

But she can’t go a day without crying.

But I don’t think she has the energy to leave the house.

It’s been four days since the attack, and Harry hasn’t seen her take a step outside of their bedroom.

“Love, she’s wasting away in there. It might help her a little to get out, get some sun…”

“Mum, I can’t even get her to sit in the fucking garden.” He can hear his mother’s nettled sigh on the other end of the line, but how can anyone expect him to put her on a mother fucking airplane if she can’t even bother to walk the 30 meters to the fucking garden? “The sodding paps were outside the house last night.”

“They can’t—”

“I’m aware.” He begins to descend his way down the stairs, stopping to peer out from the front window – an old, worn out habit. “I think it’s best we get away for a bit. The story hasn’t died down… I think it’ll help—getting away. They won’t bother us there.”

Harry knew your answer before he even had the chance to ask; he knew he was wasting his time in even suggesting such a thing, but the guilt would eat away at him if he didn’t even try.

“Muskoka…Canada, remember? We went there last year.” He sat at the edge of the bed, running a hand over the sheets where a peek of your shoulder laid exposed. “It’ll be quiet. Nobody there to bug us. If you want to just hang out in the hotel room the whole time, I’d be fine with that. It’s just…”

I can’t stand to see you burrowed away another day.

“I’m really worried about you… I’m just trying to help.” He was powerless, and he knew it. He couldn’t take her by the arm and force her on a plane, but god forbid he try his damned hardest. “No paps, nobody. I promise. I wouldn’t take you there if it wasn’t safe.”

He feels a stir beneath him, and from underneath the covers, a small hand inches outward and lays upward, a silent plea for intimacy—a piece of familiarity he hasn’t touched in days. He reaches out and clasps her hand in his, and readjusts himself to lay beside her.

“You can think about it. I don’t need an answer this second, but give it a day or two, okay?”

He sees her nod, and her eyes blink open to meet his, only for a second, before they are closed once again for the remainder of the night.

*

July 6, 2019 Ontario, Canada

Muskoka came and went. Nothing advantageous to really capture your attention, though you kept your head nestled low in a book for most of your stay. You tossed a couple Stephen King novels into your bags without much thought, and by the time your trip was coming to an end, you had already completed one and started another.

A photo made its rounds online of you at dinner with Harry, Rande and Cindy, and even thinking back to that night, you couldn’t recount a time where you felt a pair of eyes boring at your table. You think it might be because you paid more attention to the drink menu than your friends, but you digressed. They only saw the back of your head, and not even the photographer mentioned you. You were also mistaken for Kaia on a couple occasions.

After Muskoka, you were back in London, and not much later Harry would be jetting off to Italy for Google Camp, and a few days after that, he was set to fly to Mexico for a video shoot. He was redundant to go, and even called Jeff to see if they could reschedule, but that would cause a delay for the next video they’d film only a week later. He asked if you wanted to join him, and you kindly declined. You were much aware of his past video sets, and how common it was to see photos and videos leaked online, and you were far from interested to be included.

You were much happier to find yourself under the watchful eyes of Anne Twist.

“I can meet you in Scotland if I’m feeling up to it.” You knew it was a scorching lie crawling right off your tongue, but if it meant he carried some hope with him, then you would feed him whatever white lies you could muster. Even Anne knew better than to believe you.

“I think Canada was good for you, love, but you need some rest, too. Can’t be travelling all over the bloody world, now, can you?”

It was a nice feeling to know she had your back.

In another life would a little green monster be envious of missing such a trip to Cancun, but the only desires you had were sitting in Anne’s garden being force fed a steady cup a tea and a plate of biscuits.

Anne didn’t pry; she knew well what you needed, but she would be keeping her sons promise on keeping you safe, and she knew there was no safer place for you to be.

It was August now, and the heat felt suffocating. You and Anne spent your mornings walking to the bakery her son once worked in, grabbing a quick breakfast before heading to the park. You would pick off pieces of your croissant and toss it at the squirrels, but you almost always scared them off. Anne told stories of when Harry was a child, and how he once tried to tell her Gemma was a drug dealer.

“She was only a child,” she hummed, laughing into her coffee. “But he was always a character to have around.”

“I feel like…between you and me, right?” You could hear in the distance the sound of a goose honking and a group of children wailing, running away. “I just…don’t want to upset him.”

Anne reached over and took your hand in hers. “Anything you say is always safe with me, love.”

“I’m mad he left me here.” There was a short beat, but you could feel your throat close, and that anger begin to well up in your chest. “This…this is also…”

“I know, love.” She scooted closer, squeezing your hand. “Everyone has their own ways of dealing with grief. Harry isn’t good at sitting around… Even when Robin passed, he didn’t like to sit. He needed to go do something.”

You remember, and yet you still recall him lying on his mother’s couch in tears. You don’t think he’s cried since the two of you left the hospital a couple weeks ago.

“He loves you, darling. He calls me every day to check in on you. Don’t think for a second he doesn’t care.”

Even with her words, you felt something was missing.

*

Harry was only in Scotland for a couple days before he was finally home, but it wouldn’t be long before he would be venturing off to Italy – again – for another work-related conquest. You weren’t sure why he was so content with country hopping every couple of weeks instead of resting at home with you, but you didn’t bother bludgeoning him with questions.

“After I’m through with Italy—I won’t even be there a day—I’ll be back home, but a couple weeks later, I have to go to LA for some meetings… I’d like you to come, if that’s okay.”

Again. There’s always something. It must be so fucking difficult to stay in one place for more than a couple weeks with your grieving girlfriend.

“Also…I was meaning to ask you. Ariana is in town in a few days… Wanted to know if you wanted to come with me and the guys… I think it’ll be fun.”

“Your child died a month ago and you want to go to a fucking Ariana Grande concert.” The words fell helplessly from you, but it was weeks of anguish and neglect that hit its final tier, and you were quite tired of hanging on. “Tell me….how does that make sense to you?”

“Excuse me?” For the first time that night, he looked at you. All before, he found excuses to shift his glances to anything but you, maybe in fear of reality finally hitting him in the face with what he’s been running from for weeks, but for the first time that night, he bared his eyes down at you, and his mouth fell open.

“I’m sorry—have I been hallucinating you just picking your shit up and leaving every chance you get?”

“I’ve had work—” He took to his feet, swiftly flinging his hand out to close the lid of his luggage.

“Any normal person—I swear, any normal person would stay home, and fucking grieve, except you, who wants to fucking fly everywhere and work, because that would require facing his fucking prob—”

“I have a job—I know it’s hard for you to relate to that, but I have commitments—”

“And what am I then? If not a commitment, then what, Harry?”

“You are a commitment—”

“Then where have you been? Why have I been staying with your mother? I know you invited me to go with you, but I shouldn’t have to. I’m fucking hurting, Harry! I don’t want to go to Cancun and Italy—I want to be here with you. Do you know how fucking hard it’s been dealing with this without you here?”

For once, he was silent, but he shifted on his feet.

“You haven’t cried. Not since the hospital. I can’t count how many times I’ve cried, and you sit around texting your band or going to video shoots… If you feel nothing—no grief or anything…if you didn’t even want the baby, just tell me. Make this easier on me, please.”

“How the fuck can you say that I didn’t want the baby? My heart is fucking hurt!”

“Then act like it!”

“You really think I can sit around every day and watch you fall apart? I have to be the strong one… If it can’t be you, then it has to be me, and I don’t like watching you hurt.”

“You know…you sometimes have a really shitty way showing people you care about them.”

You stood there, arms folded in resistance, and he couldn’t take his eyes from off the floor. He felt cornered, and he was defenseless with nothing else left to give. His bags still laid on the bed, clothes scattered over the sheets ready to be put up, and you knew this room was no place for you. Your purse was downstairs, and your phone in your pocket.

“I’m going to stay with Gemma tonight. I’ll have her pick me up. Please don’t follow me out.” 

*

She’s always been the quiet one.

The first time she met you, at a family gathering you were reluctant to attend despite the persistent reassurance from your other half, she knew from the moment she saw you that you were different from all the others. You held yourself different, much shorter, like you knew you could never become the center of attention.

You studied the room, holding onto Harry’s hand as he introduced you to his mother, and that’s when Gemma appeared from over her mother’s shoulder.

“About time I meet you,” she chuckled, reaching her hand out. “I’m Gemma.”

She watches you now from the edge of the driveway, sitting on the steps of the porch with only the light above you illuminating your surroundings. From behind you, she spotted the silhouette of her brother peeking through the curtains, keeping a close eye for just in case.

Your track record wasn’t a good one.

As she approaches, you perk your head up with a sigh of relief. For the first time, she was the Styles you nothing but needed.

“Come on, Magoo,” she chirps as she finally reaches you, lifting her hand out for you to take. “We can hit the McDonald’s drive-thru.”

Laura Nyro played over her car stereo, a melodious tune you recall hearing once before on a long drive in Cheshire. You shut your eyes, and the memory floods you like a storm, like a stampede parading across your chest, and you lean over to rest your head on the window.

Gemma reached her hand over to find yours, giving it three squeezes of solace.

I. Love. You.

The cut that was tucked away in your hairline was in its last stages of healing, and a scar would most certainly take its place. You always felt the erratic throbbing, like a little reminder that no matter how far you run, your problems will always be chasing you like the devil.

“Did I make a mistake?”

Gemma turned her attention from the road, lifting your hand up with hers, and planting a soft kiss to your knuckles.

“No, Magoo. I’m sorry to tell you, but you’re dating a dumbass.” She heard a muted hum in response. “Nobody is perfect… Not even that shithead. I can see where he thought what he was doing was okay, because he was sacrificing his feelings for you, but… that’s just not how you do it.”

You could drink to that.

Gemma spotted the golden arches and took a left at the light. “I’m glad you texted me… Haven’t had a bloody girl’s night in ages. It sucks under the circumstances but…” She turned back to you with a wink. “I’ll take what I can get.”

On the journey back to her flat, you pleasantly sipped at your chocolate milkshake and tapped your feet to the music, and even sporadically hummed along to the few chords you knew. It really didn’t take much to please you.

Gemma was never gifted a sister as a child. Though, she did want one, and was thoroughly distraught when her mother brought home a brother all those years ago, she did grow accustomed and grew to love the curly haired boy who she would then share with the world. But the girl beside her, who slurped her drink and choked behind a laugh of a joke about a time traveler who walks into a bar, had burrowed herself deep within her heart, much like she does with any counterpart she meets.

It’s incredibly difficult not to meet this girl and not hold some sort of placement in her life. Her heart is massive, but the love she radiates is gracious and touches anyone who dares get too close.

And the love Gemma has for her is just as the same.

Michal was asleep when the two of you arrived; you knew your way around, and confidently walked to the spare room down the hall, last door on the right. Gemma trailed behind you, holding your milkshake as you flipped on the light, and kicked off your shoes.

Olivia was already sprawled out over the comforter.

“Could you stay with me, tonight?”

“You don’t have to ask me twice, babe.” Gemma smirked, setting your drink down on the bedside table. “Have you ate?”

You shook your head, even trying to recall if you had mustered an appetite to have some breakfast, but even then you think you took a couple bites out of an apple and forgot about it.

“I’ll make you something—actually, Michal and I have spinach ravioli left over… Want me to heat some of that up for you?”

You graciously nodded. “You’re too good for me.”

“I just love you is all.”

The next morning, the spot beside you was visibly vacant, and from down the hall you could vaguely hear a low, sullen voice talking over the sound of the television. Gemma fired back in response, and from your feet, Olivia peeked her head from the covers, turning towards the disrupting noise.

“Let her sleep—she’s exhausted—”

“Just give me five bloody minutes!”

You knew any chance of sleep you wish you had was far gone.

“I’m up—just fucking talk!” You hollered into your pillow, your eyes still adjusting to the sunlight cascading into the room. You could guess it wasn’t any later than nine that morning, and before you had a moment to check, his unquestionable footsteps neared your door, and you heard a light tap. “I’m obviously awake.”

After you walked out the night before, he ignored your wishes and followed you downstairs where the shortest reaction he got from you was the front door slamming in his face.

“Can I talk?”

I don’t know, can you?

“You literally came here and woke me up from some incredible sleep, mind you, and you’re asking me if you can talk.” He was in a blind panic and darted his eyes around the room. “Well, talk.”

“I’m a fucking twat, I know this. It’s inexcusable what I did—what I put you through—it was selfish—I’m so fucking selfish—I can’t fucking deal with this kind of stuff, and I’m a bloody twat for leaving you because I can’t handle it. It’s cowar—I’m a coward! I can’t face shit—and I love you so much, and I left you… I’m so sorry, please believe me. I’m such a twat—"

“Shut up, please—you’re giving me a migraine.” You held up a single finger as you adjusted yourself in bed. “Look, I don’t even know how early it is, and you know how much I hate mornings.”

“I know, but…I didn’t want to wait until the afternoon to talk to you.”

“That’s fair.”

“It’s 10:30 by the way.”

“Did you practice that speech in your car, or did you just wing it?”

While you were in bed with Gemma, watching King of the Hill on her iPad, Harry resided to his office where he spent much of the evening hunched over his journal, scrawling out endless messages to you about how much of a wanker he is, and by the time the sun began to rise, he had his eyes in his hand and began waiting for an appropriate time to come and see you.

“I…thought a little bit about it, yeah.”

“You really hurt me, alright? It’s not something I can just forget because you said you were sorry. When I needed you the most, you weren’t there. What kind of partner is that?” He stood silent in his spot; his hands dug deep into his trousers. Suddenly, he was a little boy again getting scolded by his mother. “I had your mom, I had Gemma, but not you. The only person I needed. I get this wasn’t part of the plan, and we got our hearts broken, but that doesn’t give you the right to run off because you can’t handle seeing me upset.”

Olivia stretched her limbs out over the covers, purring against the sheets.

“I appreciate you coming, I really do. This isn’t something I can just forget and move on from. I want to work on this, but it’s going to take time… I still love you though.”

*

September 19, 2019 Los Angeles, California

“Your shirt looks like amebae under a microscope.”

He stifled a grunt, looking down at his shirt with concentration, and every so subtly did you see him glance swiftly at the bathroom mirror. “I’m surprised you even know what ameba are.”

“Or it looks like those eye floaties you get, but…colorful, you know?”

“Will you stop bullying me?”

“Only when you tell me how much you paid for that shirt.”

For a second, and you saw it flash through his eyes, he considered telling you, but figured that was a fight for a different afternoon. His silence was all the answer you needed. You nodded and left the room.

He found himself eminently lucky that you even agreed to accompany him to Los Angeles, but it was under the one condition that he takes you to In-N-Out whenever you oh so politely asked. Though, after you harassed him over his attire that morning, he was undecided to change his mind.

He didn’t.

You did, however, apologize and say he looked like a sexy ameba, and he then locked you out of the car for five minutes.

To be fair, you only accepted his offer to travel with him because you missed your friends, and they were the one thing that remained untouched from the summer. You felt the emptiness being carried with you with every passing day, and all the books and websites said that was normal, but finding distractions and hobbies to pass the time was coming close to becoming a sport – way too laborious for you.

You even found yourself searching “Losing interest in things I used to like” and you were considerably shocked to discover the rabbit hole Google led you down.

You didn’t consider yourself depressed, not by any means. Sure, you were sad most of the day, you never really gained your appetite back, you stopped painting and watching King of the Hill and Breaking Bad, and if you didn’t spend the entire day sleeping, you would lay in bed with your eyes closed, praying you would eventually grow tired enough to slip away for a little while.

Harry even signed you both up for couple’s therapy.

“This is for people who cheated on each other and refuse to break up!”

But regardless of your inherent fussing, he refused to back down. Where the two of you stood mentally, this was your last chance at redemption, and he wasn’t letting you back out. The way he saw it, if you didn’t make an effort to try and fix what was broken, there was no hope for the relationship moving forward.

That was when you realized the outcome was more than just losing your baby.

After the first session, you made an appointment with your physician, who later prescribed not only you with anti-depressants, but Harry as well. Your world was spinning madly, in every which direction, but at least you had your boy holding on madly with you.

The first time you encountered a fan since the summer happened on that very first outing in Los Angeles when you and Harry were arriving for your lunch plans. (Not In-N-Out, but you let it go.) If it had been solely one girl, you trust that you could easily fight her off if given the opportunity. I mean, sure, you didn’t fight off that other girl, but she had the upper hand, or so you tell yourself.  

But, no, she was with a group, and you felt the urge to vomit.

“I’m going to throw up—” You propel yourself in the other direction, ready to sprint back to the parking lot, and thinking back on it now, you can’t even remember the last time you even sprinted. “Let me sit in the car—let’s get the food to go—I don’t care—”

This is why we should have fucking gone to In-N-Out.

“Pet—you can’t run forever, okay? I know it’s fucking scary, but you have to face this one day.” You remember the exact quote Harry was reciting from the therapist, just with less profanity. “I won’t let them do shit, alright?”

They did stop him, of course, and you took a few steps away so they could have their moment, but you made sure he was still an arm grab away incase—

“Hey,” You had disregarded the voice, opening a game on your phone – Numberzilla – before you registered someone had spoken to you. “I’m sorry to bother you…”

At first glance, you could easily discern she was unsure of herself. She likely had a rush of confidence, and now standing blankly in front of you, she has lost all certainty. From behind, you peered up to find Harry staring at the back of her head, already inching into his pocket for his keys.

“Oh,” you gulp, clutching your phone in your hands. “Hi…”

“I just…was just hoping that you were doing okay.”

Doing okay, because of—

Your heart thudded to a stop.

“You alright?” Harry was at your side, and the young girl took a step back.

“Sorry—I’m sorry.” She gave a weak smile. “I just wish the best for you two.”

She was already walking off when you mustered up the words to thank her, but you were doubtful she heard you. Harry’s arm was in a tight grip around your backside, with his keys hung in his hand, ready to run.

The two of you cancelled your lunch plans and hit In-N-Out instead.

*

September 24, 2019 Los Angeles, California

“Is it okay?”

It was a Tuesday; you had a clear agenda for the day, and it was a little after lunch that you found yourself aimlessly clicking through channels, with your boyfriend sitting down by your feet, flipping through the pages of your current read.

You had felt the undeniable ache since the night before, and you thought maybe if you just ignore it, it’ll go away, but it only lingered, taunting you with its insatiable lust.

The itch you don’t want to scratch.

Your heart was racing, your palms were sweaty, and it didn’t matter how tightly you squeezed your legs together, nothing could rid you of this.

“H,” You poked his leg with your toe. “Bear with me on this, okay?” He didn’t respond, but he carefully set your book back down on the coffee table. “Will you have sex with me real quick?”

“I…you want to?”

“Do you have condoms? Because if not, I can take care of this myself—”

“Yes, yes, I have them. I have—they’re upstairs.”

And there you were, minutes later, his cock was inside of you, and he slowly rolled his hips carefully into you, dipping his toes into the water. He physically cannot express how much this meant to him, and how long he hid this desire deep in his gut, because God forbid he be the one to bring it up. If he had to wank off in the bathroom in between commercial breaks until you decided you were ready to have sex again, he’d find a way to tolerate it.

“Is it okay?” He choked out in between breaths; only minutes in, and he was cradling dangerously on the edge.

“Yeah—yeah, it’s okay. It feels good.” You readjusted your hips, stretching your leg out to wrap around his. “Maybe a little faster?”

“I’ll cum in a second—” He shook his head, halting his movements when that tiny, little knot inched closer to unravelling. “Just give me a sec.”

“Babe—”

“Hold—” He reached his arm under the bend of your knee, lifting it up as he thrusted back into you. “Fuck—”

He was relentless; you stretched your hand down between your thighs, rubbing and kneading that small bundle of nerves as his cock hit deep within you with no sign of letting up.

It had been way too long.

“Harry—fuck—” It was deep, pulsating, and you lifted your hips up as your orgasm radiated throughout your every limb, tightening around his cock as he thrusted hard, giving you one last nudge of pleasure as his grip tightened around the sheets, fucking into you with a lasting, animalistic moan, cumming thick ropes into you.

You made him access the condom, triple checking there wasn’t a hole unbeknownst to either of you, and after a fourth overview, he politely asked you if he could throw away his used condom now.

You would be okay this time.

He ran a bath a little later, and you submerged your body deep within the bubbles, letting them rest at your jawline. You felt like you lost your virginity all over again.

“H?” You asked, rubbing the bubbles up your arm.

“Yes, pet?”

“Do you want to get married?”

The question caught him, and he cracked his eyes open with curiosity. “I want to, yeah. You know I do.”

The conversation had only been passed around once, when you were terribly drunk and crying over some sob film where the boyfriend dies before they have a chance to elope despite their parent’s protests. The film stuck with you for weeks, and you always wondered, if you knew you were with the one, why wait? Why wait for tragedy to strike?

“Let’s get married.”

He chuckled, wiggling his toes against yours. “You’re mental.”

“No, I’m serious. Why wait? Seriously? I love you, you love me, and we aren’t getting any younger.”

“Pet, you’re 24.”

“And only getting older!”

“So, you want to find some Little White Chapel in Vegas and get hitched?” He leaned up a little, a smirk stretching out on his face.

“I want a real wedding, of course, someday, but right now…let’s do it. Let’s go to Vegas or Miami or somewhere, and just do it.”

It took an hour, but he eventually agreed, and was on the phone with Jeff to arrange a flight and hotel. The next day, the two of you ran around downtown to every consignment shop in the city, looking for a white dress – not as hard as you thought it would be – a diamond ring – a little tough, but you found one for cheap – and a nice pair of heels in your size – a lot harder; you bought a size too big by accident.

And in 24 hours, you would be marrying your best friend.

*

Miami, FL September 26, 2019

“Shit…fuck, we’re actually doing this?” You stuffed a wad of tissue paper into the toe box of your heels – one size too big – and stood up to test them for a final time. “No going back?”

“Cold feet, pet?”

“No, I’m fucking—it’s humid in here.” You swing around to face him, fanning yourself off with a loose People magazine, and its then you see him standing smugly in his slacks, a proper grin etching itself across his face.

“Cold feet—the expression, pet…”

“Harry—fuck, I’m nervous. My shoes are too big, I feel a pimple forming on my chin, and I’m pretty sure the wire in my bra broke ten minutes ago because something is stabbing my tit.”

“Well, I think your tits look great.”

“You can thank that bombshell bra I bought years ago for that.” You stroll back over to the sofa and toss the magazine carelessly onto the coffee table. “Did you have them sign an MDMA?”

“NDA, and Jeff got that covered.” Harry combs back a piece of his hair, that one strand that always gives him trouble. “Hold onto this for me?” You watch as he removes his H ring, and strolls over to the sofa. “Put it in your bra—can’t lose much in there.”

“You’re hilarious.”

“And you’re my wife.” His fucking smug grin falls over him like a tidal wave, and you wish you could just slap it right off his face.

“No, I’m not.”  

“Give it a couple minutes.”

Your heart hurled itself up into your esophagus, the tremorous pounding radiating all throughout your head to your toes. Harry appeared quite relaxed as he staggered to the full-length mirror to adjust his collar, and from the reflection, he caught your watchful stare.

“Your mom is going to be pissed.” You think back to Anne, and all the good she’s done for you, and you are now repaying her by having her miss her son’s wedding. “We’ll need to plan the real thing soon.”

“We’ll tell her when we want to tell her, but for now,” he swung around on his heel to face you, “This is about you and me…and the rest of our lives.”

You make a mental note to thank Niall later.

You think back to those years ago, and how you almost bailed on Niall that night to stay home and watch The Young and the Restless with your roommate. You weren’t thrilled to get that phone call, but as long as Niall agreed to pay for a couple drinks, you found it in yourself to put on a pair of pants and enjoy a night out. 

And maybe if you had inclined to stay home, your entire life would be a completely different world right now. Maybe you’d be in somebody else’s kitchen helping them prepare dinner, or on some lavish vacation with a guy you only met a month ago, or maybe you’d be alone in your apartment, binging a new show to pass the time you only let flutter by.

But you were here now, standing at an alter that smelled roughly of cigarettes and mildew, wearing shoes that were too big on you, in a dress that probably saw more weddings than you ever will, holding the hands of the man you were prepared to love for the rest of your life.

Nothing seemed to matter anymore, not the harassing, not the attack, not the stalking. It didn’t matter what anybody threw at you anymore; you were hard as fucking stone, and not a single person was going to damage what the two of you were building.

“You may now kiss your bride.”

#harry styles imagine #saaf series #miscarriage mention #miscarriage tw #harry styles #harry styles smut #one direction imagine #one direction

[usagichanp]

lexthan

*rubs hands together* I was hoping someone would ask me that

This is gonna be a long one folks.

General:

Rate the Ship -  

Awful | Ew | No pics pls | I’m not comfortable | Alright | I like it! | Got Pics? | Let’s do it! | Why is this not getting more attention?! | The OTP to rule all other OTPs

How long will they last? - Life long partners, babey.

How quickly did/will they fall in love? - I think they had crushes on each other for a while. They didn't officially say "I love you" till a few months into their relationship, but they thought it sooner.

How was their first kiss? - I wrote a lesbian Lexthan version of their first kiss, though I don't think canon Lexthan's first kiss was like that. I imagine it to be not really planned out; just like they're talking to each other in the car and lock eyes, then slowly lean in and kiss. Since they've had kisses before, it's not a catastrophe, and it's actually fairly soft.

Wedding:

Who proposed? - Ethan. Wrote a whole ass fic about it.

Who is the best man/men? - I know who the best man is in my fics (it's my man Marsh, for those who have read it), but idk about the canon Ethan's best man. Maybe Danny (the Smoke Club Boy) but I'm not sure if they'd be friends enough to be his best man. He might not have one.

Who is the bride's maid? - Hannah. Duh.

Who did the most planning? - Ethan, but Lex chipped in too. Tom might help as well if asked lol

Who stressed the most? - Ethan. Though their ceremony isn't big, he still wanted it to be a good memory down the road (it was)

How fancy was the ceremony? -

Back of a pickup truck | 2 | 3 | 4 | Normal Church Wedding | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Kate and William wish they were this big.

First they had just a courthouse wedding where they signed the papers, then had a tiny wedding ceremony with only close friends. Even if they could afford a proper wedding (Canon Lexthan prolly couldn't afford it) I don't think they'd want a big affair anyways. It's be exhausting.

Who was specifically not invited to the wedding? - Lex's mom. Obviously.

Sex:

Now we're getting to the good part lads

Who is on top? - Ethan is a fucking switch. You can't convince me otherwise. He tops maybe like... 60/40 or 65/35. But when Lex tops, she tops bitch.

Who is the one to instigate things? - Ethan likes instigating things since he's a horny teenage boy, but it Lex doesn't want to, he stops. Sometimes Lex instigates, but usually when she does she's in the mood to top.

How healthy is their sex life? -

Barely touch themselves let alone each other | 2 | 3 | 4 | Once a couple weeks, nothing overboard | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They are humping each other on the couch right now

I'd give it a 7.5, depending on the situation. While they try to tone it down around Hannah, when they have alone time they'd totally go for it. Ethan's glovebox in his car has a box of condoms in it at all times. What can I say, as I said before, they're horny teenagers

How kinky are they? -

Straight missionary with the lights off | 2 | 3 | 4 | Might try some butt stuff and toys | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Don’t go into the sex dungeon without a horse’s head

They don't like seeing each other hurt so they wouldn't like BDSM. They're not vanilla but nothing too crazy- blindfolding, light bondage (aka tying hands up with rope or cloth), scratching, light spanking, pegging

How long do they usually last? - It depends on how much time they have to have sex. They've done quickies in bathrooms or whatever before, but if they have all night then they're pretty good at prolonging it.

Do they make sure each person gets an equal amount of orgasms? - Absolutely. It is said in multiple fics (I think?) of mine that Ethan makes sure Lex has the same amount of orgasms as he does. Always.

How rough are they in bed? -

Softer than a butterfly on the back of a bunny | 2 | 3 | 4 | The bed’s shaking and squeaking every time | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Their dirty talk is so vulgar it’d make Dwayne Johnson blush. Also, the wall’s so weak it could collapse the next time they do it.

They certainly can have slow, soft, romantic sex, but Ethan is also 100% capable of rocking Lex's world so hard she can't walk right for a week. (That happens in my first fic, Cassieopia, albeit off screen)

How much cuddling/snuggling do they do? -

No touching after sex | 2 | 3 | 4 | A little spooning at night, or on the couch, but not in public | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They snuggle and kiss more often than a teen couple on their fifth date to a pillow factory.

1) I fucking love that metaphor 2) They don't get much physical affection at home, so they fucking love snuggling and cuddling- whether it be after sex or just hanging out. Sometimes they cuddle as a form of stress relief after a shitty day.

Children:

How many children will they have naturally? - 2, maybe 3.

How many children will they adopt? - I think they might prefer to have children naturally, but in my California series they gain custody of Hannah when she's 12. Does that count?

Who gets stuck with the most diapers? - Lex forces Ethan to learn how to change diapers. That being said, Lex isn't half bad at changing them either, since she helped change Hannah's when she was a child.

Who is the stricter parent? - They're not exactly strict parents, but both Lex and Ethan can definitely scold the kid. ("hAnNaH! tHaT bEtTeR bE fUcKiNg fLoSs!!!!!") That being said, both take care to not be abusive to their child, especially Lex. She doesn't want to be like her mom, so she tries to keep her temper in check.

Who stops the kid(s) from doing dangerous stunts after school? - Ethan has good reflexes, and has stopped his kids from falling and hitting their chin on a playground structure more than once. (Fun fact! That happened to me when I was 3. I fell from a steel elephant shaped jungle gym at a German zoo, hit my chin on a steel bar, and bit through my lower lip/knocked 3 teeth out. I still have the scar years later lol)

Who remembers to pack their lunches? - Lex. Though the lunches aren't always the healthiest.

Who is the more loved parent? - I think they're both loved, but maaaaaybe Ethan a bit more.

Who is more likely to attend the PTA meetings? - Neither would attend PTA meetings out of the goodness of their hearts. If Lex or Ethan would go to a PTA meeting, it'd most likely be because they wanted to yell at a teacher or principal. They might go seperately or together depending on the severity of the issue.

Who cried the most at graduation? - Ethan wouldn't admit he cried, but he did. So did Lex.

Who is more likely to bail the child(ren) out of trouble with the law? - Oh bitch, Lex and Ethan both said fuck the law. If it was just like, an overnight jail cell for some stupid misdemeanor, they might try to break their kid out. Otherwise, Lex would probably the one paying the bail because Ethan would try to punch the cop in the face if the cop talked shit about Ethan's kid. That reaction is not exclusive to cops.

Cooking:

Who does the most cooking? - Neither of them are exactly 5 star chefs, but they can hold on their own. Lex is better at cooking breakfast and Ethan is better at cooking dinner- but if he's exhuasted from work, Lex can cook dinner for him.

Who is the most picky in their food choice? - Neither are picky. Both of them grew up young scrappy and hungry just like their country without really the chance to be picky. They had to take what they could get.

Who does the grocery shopping? - Lex. She's good at calculating totals in her head. I wrote that in an unrealeased fic.

How often do they bake desserts? - Rather rarely. Perhaps on special occasions or to bond. Ethan has ruined the kitchen with his kid trying to bake a cake for Lex at least once. Maybe more.

Are they more of a meat lover or salad lover? - Meat lovers, babey. Fuck that fancy plant bullshit.

Who is more likely to surprise the other(s) with an anniversary dinner? - Ethan. I wrote that in the proposal fic.

Who is more likely to suggest going out? - Depends on what you count as "going out". Lex likes going to McDonalds, but Ethan is the one who suggests eating at actual restaurants.

Who is more likely to burn the house down accidently while cooking? - Ethan, but both have had near misses.

Chores:

Who cleans the room? - Both had fairly messy rooms as teenagers so they're not super anal about having sparkling clean rooms. That being said, when someone comes over Lex does try to tidy the place up a bit. At least enough to make it seem like they have their shit together. Ish.

Who is really against chores? - Ethan can be a bit of a lazy bones sometimes, but Lex isn't exactly a huge fan of chores either. However, she is used to doing chores since she practically raised herself and Hannah.

Who cleans up after the pets? - They take turns. Both hate it.

Who is more likely to sweep everything under the rug? - Ethan, because he doesn't want to incur Lex's wrath.

Who stresses the most when guests are coming over? - Lex. As I said above, she actually actively cleans the house beforehand. Not to the level of that freaking out mom from the comedy video who's name I can't remember tho.

Who found a dollar between the couch cushions while cleaning? - Ethan. He has a nack for finding random bits of money. Score.

Misc:

Who takes the longer showers/baths? - Lex, though both take relatively quick showers to save water.

Who takes the dog out for a walk? - They actually like doing it together. It's nice to get some fresh air, and they enjoy each other's company.

How often do they decorate the room/house for the holidays? - Ethan goes over the top, partially to annoy Lex. You know that Christmas tree Chris Pine vine? Yeah, Ethan would fucking do that.

What are their goals for the relationship? - Live a better life together than they did in Hatchetfield. White picket fence and California dreams shit.

Who is more likely to sleep till noon? - Ethan, but Lex is known to sleep till 3 in the afternoon if she's really tired.

Who plays the most pranks? - Ethan. That's literally canon.

I can babble about them all day lol

#Lexthan #Black Friday #lex foster #ethan green #I'll reblog this later with links to my fics #thank you!! #asks

[aquariusgod]

i know this is an astrology blog but HOW CAN I GET RID OF DEPRESSION

I’m not a therapist & I definitely suggest going to see one if it is something available to you. A lot of places have at least one mental health facility per county that will accept you even if you do not have insurance.But, knowing that people under 18 follow my blog, I’ll answer with little tips & tricks that help me alleviate my depressive symptoms.

• Balancing time with others & yourself. This is super important, as you don’t want to isolate yourself, but you also don’t want to avoid your problems all together. If your depression happens to stem from a situation, ignoring the issue will prolong your depression, which means you’ll need time to assess it alone or with the help of others (preferably an adult 21+ or that is very experienced & kind). If your depression stems from a chemical imbalance, spending too much time with others may cause a “crash” when you’re alone, making it feel like the symptoms are worse than before. This is hard to master, so try as hard as you can. • Your Sleep Schedule, fix it. Personally, when I’m depressed I’ll sleep for what feels like days at a time. Up at 1pm, asleep at 3am. Sometimes up at 4pm & asleep at midnight. It’s a real mess! Remember, if you aren’t sleeping right, you can’t eat right! It’s hard to totally just fix your schedule on a whim, so try & set up little coffee dates with friends earlier in the morning to force yourself awake. • To Cancel or Not To Cancel. 90% of the time, don’t cancel your plans in favor of depression. Unless your day is particularly bad, try & go out anyways. Even if you message them telling them you’ll be a little late, or may want to leave a little early. Keeping up with plans will grant you structure, even when your sleep schedule won’t co-operate.• Breakfast, Lunch & Dinner. Don’t forget to eat! Ever! Growing up, my diet fucked me over HARD. I was always out of energy, constantly depressed, and lived off of snacks & caffeine. It worked, technically, but not for the better. Even if you can’t have a full meal, try & just grab something. Maybe an egg for breakfast, a quick sandwich for lunch & some McDonalds for dinner. Work up the ladder. Make sure you have some protein. (So if you need something quicker than an egg, peanut butter toast is fine). If you’re eating light meals, bring snacks wherever you go. Again, healthier the better. Oranges, imo, are the best. Apples & Banana’s bruise & get disgusting too quickly. Oranges will last you for as long as you need them & taste fucking delicious. (If you’re not into fruit, again, peanut butter crackers for protein, cheese sticks, those “healthy” chips, ect).

Yeah, that’s all pretty basic. You’re gonna hear that shit a LOT. For probably ever? Here are some of the things that may be more specific.

• Everyone has somewhere that makes them feel calm, productive, and naturally feels alleviating. For me, it’s the shower/bathroom, with the water running. I feel like a total dick, but also, I feel something. So, when I’m depressed, I tend to take 7-10 showers a week. Sometimes even more! (My skin doesn’t like me very much, though). • Some people for more comfortable talking about what depressed them than others. That’s okay! If you’re able to talk about it with friends, do! If you aren’t, you don’t have to keep a journal or anything. Just try & talk to yourself & remind yourself that the depression isn’t permanent, you’ll find a way out.• Energy Renewal. Honestly, I spend one day a week away from everyone. Everyone. I text people (who I text everyday) and make plans for the following day. Otherwise, radio silence. I do stuff on social media, study if I can, and sleep. It’s not the healthiest, but usually if I’m extra depressed due to lack of a social battery, I feel a little better the next day.• “Self Care.” Yeah, you hear it a lot. This doesn’t have to be washing your face & using a face mask. This doesn’t need to be a bubble bath. Sometimes, it’s just curling up on your couch with your favorite blanket & remote in hand. Try & DO something relaxing, & don’t fall asleep. Reading a book is the best, but not something I’ve managed to make myself do in a long time.• Try & find something that seems to be a root of situational depression (whether it’s the general situation or if it’s a stressor thats made your depression worse). Try & work on it. Find out what it is, why it’s there, and what to do to “fix” it. Can’t fix it? Address it. Apologize, if you did something wrong. Address your fears. Hold a candle to the madness & tell it to fuck off to the plane it came from.• Avoid self-sabotaging behavior. Avoid impulsive behavior. That means no suddenly downloading tinder & fucking the first match you get. That means using a condom even though you don’t care if he nuts in you. That means no going online & buying 7 outfits you won’t wear because you’re having a hard time getting out of your pjs rn. It won’t be motivation. That means no drugs, unless prescribed. Try to keep from arguing with others (esp those you care about). Keep messaging your significant other. Don’t seek affection elsewhere if you’re in a relationship. The easiest way to put this is to be mindful of how you Fuck, Spend, Interact, Intake & Love. It takes a lot of practice, but try & identify if you want to do something because you like the idea & it sounds good, or you feel like it may feel good momentarily.• Look at the drugs you’re on, if any. If there is something prescribed to you, talk to your doctor about it & depression, and whether or not there are any medications that may not have that side affect for you. Changing medications can help significantly, especially if you’re taking birth control or something else for mental health / hormonal treatment. Seek out alternative medication with your doctor, in order to find something that both works for you & doesn’t harm your mental health.

Again, when it comes down to it, these MAY help. These are tips & tricks. The most important thing I can tell you — and I cannot stress this enough — is seek professional help. If it is not available to you physically, there are many online professionals through apps & sites. If you are scared of both of those, even seeking help of a trusted adult (teacher, family member, guidance consoler) is helpful. Someone who is a listening ear who can provide you proper guidance.Even then, only a therapist will be able to work with you in the necessary ways to completely do away (or help significantly) with your depression.

& I want to point out these things are NOT easy when you’re depressed. I’m currently going through a bout so hard I only eat maybe once a day, & that’s typically only when I’m starving. My sleep schedule is literally 4pm - 3am bc I don’t want to wake up. The only time I feel something is when I’m with friends & even then I tend to feel withdrawn. It is NOT easy. Do what you can. Go a little at a time. Do NOT beat yourself up if you don’t start tomorrow, but do try. The most important thing is, while it doesn’t necessary help your depression: stay away from things that can harm you. Don’t impulse spend, don’t fuck strangers, don’t do illegal drugs. These will only hurt later on, whether fiscally or otherwise.

#depression #mental health #not astro #i am NOT a therapist #this is what works for me

[gregwhite]

HEALTHY HABITS FOR WRITERS

Chalk this up to mere anecdote if you wish, but a lot of times creative professionals seem to not be the healthiest people. Because it is a job that you do with your mind instead of your body, it often becomes a sedentary lifestyle. But it doesn’t need to be that way. Even though your job may put you in a writers room or an office for a majority of the day, it’s still very possible to live a healthy, active life and thrive as a human who makes brain nuggets for a living. And this isn’t just something you should do to increase your overall healthspan...it’s good for your job. It’s impossible for your brain to be high-functioning if your body is not functioning optimally. I was an active kid and I remain an active adult who prefers moving to not moving, and so I thought I’d try to make this very simple and just present five of the best things you can start doing today to be a healthier human writing person. 

SLEEP 

No two ways around it. You need to sleep. Next time someone tells you they can “get by on 5 hours” a night just kick them in the teeth. Once it’s dark out, turn off your goddamn phone and screens, and aim to get to bed by 9:30-10. If you’re not getting at least 7 good hours of sleep a night (8 is ideal) then no excuses: fix that now. If you’re depriving yourself of sleep, things aren’t going to turn out too well for you. 

LIFT HEAVY THINGS

When it comes to longevity studies, overall muscle mass is one of the key indicators of a healthy life. I would say the ideal way to do this is by having someone teach you to deadlift and squat heavy. 1.5x bodyweight on the squat and 2x bodyweight on the deadlift are great goals to aim for. I get that not everyone is going to want to join a gym or build a squat rack in their apartment, so in that case, I’d recommend getting a heavy (for you) kettlebell and learning how to do a PERFECT kettlebell swing. Twice a week just bang out a KB swing tabata set (aka 20 seconds on, 10 seconds off for 4 minutes) and learn how to do some movements like the Turkish Get Up and goblet squat while you’re at it. I don’t care if you’re a girl who’s been told that you should only lift light weights, or a 50 year-old who has never touched a weight in his life, it doesn’t matter. You’re a person. With muscles. Make them strong. Especially your leg. Your scripts aren’t going to keep you from toppling over when you’re 90. Your glutes will though. 

WALK MORE AND MOVE MORE

If you have a dog, you’re likely already walking a bunch, but I aim for no less than an hour a day of walking with my hound, and overall I try to walk between 15-20,000 steps a day. Walking is super important and most people just don’t do it enough. Leave your phone and podcasts and everything else at home and just go be outside. A fancy spin class or trendy class pass thing are fine once in a while, but they’re not necessary. Most of what we do should be at an easy intensity, like hiking, walking or running at MAF.  Americans spend something like 90% of their lives indoors at this point and that’s truly grim. If you live near mountains, go walk in them. If you live near a park, stroll around. And second to all this, take some time to squat down every day and just hang out in the bottom of a squat. Do a yoga class if that’s your thing. Just make sure you’re putting your body in different positions every day. You’ve got a bunch of cool joints and limbs and they’re designed to do a bunch of different things. Make sure you’re giving your body some nourishing movement. Yes, standing work desks are great (I use them) but standing still for 8 hours a day isn’t the goal. The goal is to be a human being with a body that can move and moves well. For extra credit, learn to move your body the way it was meant to be moved. I recommend the following FRC or MWOD YouTube libraries for more on this point. 

FOOD

If it comes out of a bag, don’t eat it. If you’re active, aim for .8-1 gram of protein per pound of bodyweight.One of the best things you can do for fat loss (in addition to getting GOOD solid sleep and moving) is to up your protein intake to that .8-1g/lb area. Don’t go nuts on carbs (50-150 grams a day is great) and get your fat from grass-fed meat, avocados, ghee, and things like that. It really doesn’t need to be complicated. Eat vegetables. Eat quality meat (I get mine from US Wellness Meats). Eat some organs (liverwurst in my case). Eat sardines a few days a week (Wild Planet is the best brand out there). Don’t eat cake and don’t drink too much. It’s simple stuff. Avoid refined carbohydrates, sugar, and industrial seed oils (canola, safflower, etc) because they’re super inflammatory and will fuck you up, dawg. To this point, try to not eat at restaurants too often unless they’re using coconut oil or ghee or avocado oil to make your food (they almost definitely aren’t). Don’t give your way of eating a name and don’t join a food cult. Just eat like a person and aim for nutrient density. Also, aim for what’s called intermittent fasting, aka 12-16 hours between dinner and breakfast. And while we’re on the topic of time-restricted eating, try to get out first thing in the morning for a fasted walk.  

***

I’m not health expert, but I’ve been studying this stuff for about 10 years now, and I think I’ve boiled it all down to the basics. Food companies, supplement manufacturers, smoothie places, fancy gimmick gyms and everyone in between make their profit off of basic confusion when it comes to what it means to be healthy. But it’s not hard: eat a bunch of delicious tasty food*, get strong and mobile, and move around during the day. 

*And for anyone who thinks eating well needs to be expensive: nope. Sardines cost about 2 bucks a can, an avocado is another 2 bucks, and a bunch of greens cost maybe 5 bucks. So per meal we’re looking at around $5-6. Throw in a little white rice or sweet potato and you’re gold.

[serahne]

37 for komahina?

37 - You would make the perfect father/mother

After a few months on the island, some things had started to become like a routine. Everyone knew who was up first - Nidai, most of the time, except on sunday where Hanamura insisted to make them the special brunch he used to cook at the diner he used to own with his mother - who woke up last - Saionji, by far, and at least once a week Koizumi had to drag her out of her room to join everyone for breakfast. Breakfast together, too, had become an everyday occurrence. They all had their own activities during the day, and often spend their time with the people they get along with the most, but despite how differents they could be, all of them agreed to join the rest of the group in the restaurant every morning.

Which could sometimes be incredibly chaotic. And this day was one of those days where it looked like the end of the world is still going on somewhere, and this ‘somewhere’ happened to be the inside the hotel’s restaurant.

Hinata entered the room still half-asleep, just looking for some coffee to start the day with as much energy as possible. He still suffered from occasional insomnia, his brain unable to shut the fuck up, and it tired him so much that coffee had become a lifesaver. Probably not the healthiest way to deal with his condition, but since he was a pretty unique case, and that anyone in the world with some competence in brain surgery probably had other things to think about than helping him to sleep, it wasn’t like he had any choice on the matter.

He walked through the restaurant, hearing Sonia fawn over the meal Teruteru had cooked for them this day, Souda scream at the said-cook whenever he was trying to suggest a way for Sonia to ‘thank’ him. In the corner, Koizumi was exposing her plan for the cleaning of the island’s beach to a nonplussed Pekoyama, Tsumiki was shrieking, almost crying while Saionji was on her way to prove everyone that she had the largest vocabulary of them all when it came to insults. Even without looking at them, he also could hear Owari and Nidai in a screaming competition, yelling and debating on the feasibility of some technical combat move. Sitting at one table, not saying anything for once and just observing the chaos surrounding him with a smile on his face, Komaeda seemed almost out of place, especially since he hadn’t even made the effort to pick something to eat.

Hinata sighed, closing his eyes for a while, before deciding that it wasn’t worth it. He reached to cupboard where the coffee was. Everyone was being silly, and after all, weren’t they allowed to be after everything they had been through ? Wasn’t it better to have Owari and Nidai piercing everyone’s tympans with their screams than having a metallic Nidai, dead on the floor of the Strawberry House ? Wasn’t too much life better than no life at all ? Shouldn’t he be glad that…

He stopped his train of thought, looking at the empty cupboard. No coffee. He blinked, his brain not processing what his eyes were seeing. Slowly, he closed the door, waited a few seconds, and re-opened it.

Still no coffee.

He breathed in and out, trying to not let the irritation crawl through him - in vain. Suddenly any little noise reaching his ears was like nails on a blackboard, Tsumiki’s whining weren’t so much touching than they were annoying, and Saionji didn’t help. Koizumi’s enthusiasm was more grating than soulful, and Sonia’s candidness made him want to roll his eyes off.

With a loud sound, he slammed the cupboard’s door shut and turned toward the rest of the room, who fell strangely silent - Hinata realized that himself wasn’t the kind to disrupt the organized chaos steaming from the room, that he was the kind to go along with it, and just stand in the middle of it, unperturbed. Well, he thought. That was him when some coffee was available. Which wasn’t the case now. And he was pissed.

“You” he said pointing his finger at Koizumi, who raised his eyebrows in return. “You’ll expose whatever battle plan you have tomorrow, as always, and until then you are going to stop stressing everyone with this stuff, okay ?”

He didn’t wait for an answer and turned toward Saionji who glared at him. “You are going to stop bullying Tsumiki, and I honestly couldn’t care if you eat a healthy breakfast or stuff your face with candies. And Tsumiki, you’ll stop caring about it too. And generally if you can stay from Saionji, it will be holidays for us as well as for you.”

He glanced at Hanamura next. “You are going to stop being a creep, she isn’t interested, no one is interested, if anyone is they will tell you, but for now please consider no one thinks your innuendos are subtle, funny or engaging in any way, thank you” Hanamura opened his mouth to say something that Hinata had no patience to hear. “I’m not interested either. And I’m not done.”

He looked at Sonia. “Stop being so weird.” and Kazuichi “Stop being so you.” And toward Nidai and Owari. “And if you two really wants to scream your heads off, fine by me, but could you please do it outside, if that’s not too much to ask.”

For a few seconds, everything was silent, looking at him in wide-eyed confusion, with the exception of Komaeda who seemed ready to burst out laughing. Hinata threw him a nasty glare to make sure he wouldn’t. He already felt pretty ridiculous as it was. As anyone could have predicted it, Saionji was the one throwing the first stone.

“Big bro Hinata” she called him in this innocent tone that he always used when she was about to say something crass “Are you on your period or something ? Or you have a cramp in your right hand and couldn’t masturbate for a week as the loser that you are ?” She punctuated his question with an adorable smile.

“Hiyoko !” Koizumi rolled her eyes, before giving a severe look at Hinata. “We weren’t doing anything wrong, and I’d appreciate if you didn’t use us to vent whatever negative feeling you have.” She bit her lips before standing up. “Pekoyama, we can keep talking downstairs, if you want ?”

The swordswoman nodded in agreement without looking at Hinata and the girls disappeared, followed by a crying Tsumiki and a mumbling Saionji. Sonia looked at the scene silently before starting to eat the food she had praised so much, and Kazuichi leaned away from her, giving her some space while Hanamura was running away toward the kitchen. Hinata, sighed, putting cereals in a bowl before adding some milk over it, feeling guilty to have spoiled the mood, but satisfied to not be surrounded by yellings and headaches-inducing discussion.

Well, Nidai and Owari were still screaming in the background. For some reason. They didn’t even look like they heard anything from his little speech.

“You’d make such good parent, Hinata !” a voice behind him - not that hard to know who since only one person could be that bad at reading the mood - said. After a few seconds of silence : “Or a good dictator. They are basically the same, aren’t they ?”

“Shut up” Hinata replied, knowing it would be absolutely ineffective. “Are you the one who drank the rest of the coffee ?” he asked, curious.

Komaeda frowned.

“No ? Don’t you remember that you told me that it would be bad for my health ?”

Well. He may have said that. But really, if being the Ultimate Luckster could save him from an airplane crash, from cancer, dementia and the apocalypse, he doubted too much caffeine could be that harmful, be he wasn’t about to discuss the technicalities.

“Sure.” Hinata yawned - he really needed his cup of coffee like three minutes ago. “Awful. Don’t drink it, ever.”

After saying this, he slammed the bowl of cereal he just prepared in front of Komaeda, looking at him with all the authority he could muster.

“And you know what’s bad for you ? Skipping breakfast. So you eat it, and then you can do whatever you want.”

It was a little silly, being the one making such basic breakfast for Komaeda when the most delicious food in the world was there, cooked by the Ultimate Chief, but Komaeda was weird like that and probably didn’t even think that he was included in the people Hanamura had cooked for, and Hinata was a too tired to fight right now.

Komaeda looked at the meal with obvious distaste.

“I like toasts better.” He said, and Hinata wondered if he was about to pout.

It was a cute thought, something his brain created as a symptom of withdrawal or something, he decided.

“Cereal are healthier. I’ll bring toast from the supermarket from tomorrow if you want.” Since he had to go there to get coffee anyway, he could take that as well.

Komaeda’s eyes light up and he picked up his spoon without further argument.

“You really are like a mom, aren’t you ?”

Hinata rolled his eyes and pulled on one of the other’s lock of white hair, strong enough to pass the message that he didn’t like the comparison, but not to hurt him in any way. Komaeda still yelped dramatically, as if he was being scalped.

“I’m sorry, the dictator comparison was more appropriate.”

“Eat your breakfast.” He said, hiding a smile. “I’ll be back. In a better mood.” He added a little softer, not really sure why, but he was happy to do it when he saw the timid smile Komaeda offered him in return.

All he heard was Komaeda’s humming and Nidai and Owari’s screaming while he left the restaurant.

#nagito komaeda #hajime hinata #komahina #kinda not really #danganronpa #sdr2 #yes it's inspired by me being forever exhausted #I shamelessly self-insert on this one #my fanfictions #my stuff