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hannahyesss · 4 months

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Last year was a remarkable one for me. I started a new career that I love and find challenging and rewarding. I fell in love with exercise and gave up feeling guilty about eating, and now I’m getting into the best shape of my life. I turned thirty. I jumped back into writing fanfiction and drawing fan art. I made new friends (and gave up on some friendships). And I’m poor as hell because I spent a month in Europe during the summer, and my school district hates teachers! But honestly, I’m so happy to be here. We’re already a week into the new year, and I can really sense that this is going to be a tough one, yet I feel ready to take it on.

Instead of a New Year’s Resolution, each year, I pick a word or theme. Every time I have a choice, I ask myself: which action would align with my overall values for the year? My theme last year was “Health.” Mental, physical, emotional, etc. I’d ask myself “Is this healthy for me?” Should I take a solo trip to Portugal? Should I eat pastries for breakfast? Should I go for a run? (The answer to all of these was yes.)

Here is how I embodied “Health” in 2023.

I had ADHD for nearly thirty years and didn’t know it. In that time, I graduated from high school and college and earned my graduate degree. When I reflect on how I achieved these things without the slightest idea I had a combination type ADHD, there are two things that stand out to me.

First, for most of my life, my anxiety has been debilitating and has kept me on track in a very rigid, uncomfortable way. Fearing that I would miss a deadline, my brain used to cycle through checks almost compulsively—which assignment is due? Did I pay my doctor’s bill? Do I have enough money in the bank? I was always at least twenty minutes early to everything because I was terrified of being late. I did my homework in class during work time because I didn’t want to bring it home and forget. (I was also very lucky that I took naturally to traditional education—I had good teachers in high school, but the curriculum was also very easy for me.)

Anxiety is an excellent mask for ADHD—but the cost is constant exhaustion.

Second, I have always gravitated towards jobs that keep me on my feet and running around solving problems. I managed a retail boutique for about five years which suited my ADHD very, very well. I was never involved with a task for more than fifteen minutes at a time. If I’m creating a book order and a customer walks in, I’ve got to stop my current task for a short amount of time and come back to it. I could always switch my brain very easily from one task to the next. Very stimulating! I’m a teacher now, and it’s basically the same thing.

By 2019, however, my anxiety had become so unmanageable that I couldn’t look at my bank account, I couldn’t keep my apartment clean, and I couldn’t even begin to think about doing laundry. I began working with my therapist specifically on getting my anxiety under control. It was really hard work! It involved identifying triggers and sitting with exceptionally uncomfortable feelings without judgment of myself. The story of getting a firm handle on anxiety is fairly long, so I’ll skip over several years of work to say that my anxiety is manageable now.

It took years, but my constant state of high energy anxiety has calmed significantly. While this is good, I had no idea what it was masking. ADHD symptoms began to take over my life. I cried all the time because I kept losing my phone or I set my keys down somewhere stupid or I was starting to be late to everything. Laundry was even more of a herculean task and keeping my apartment clean was a constant battle. Tackling anxiety with my therapist helped me see that untidiness is not a moral issue, but damn! I was still frustrated that I tripped over stuff or that my clothes were never clean! My therapist started squinting at me as these problems cropped up, and eventually, they were like, “These are fairly classic ADHD symptoms.”

I really, really resisted this diagnosis. I had been fine fine fine for my whole life. I have a Master’s degree! I’m a teacher! If it’s hard for me to do laundry, it’s just because I don’t like doing laundry. If it’s hard for me to brush my teeth twice a day, it just means I’m a person with poor hygiene. And the thing is, I was completely capable of doing these things. I did them all the time! It’s just that I felt so tired, and it was just a matter of forcing myself to get it done. After all, does anyone really like doing chores?

“But I don’t think you understand how much harder you’re working to do them,” my therapist argued.

“It’s hard for everyone,” I remember saying.

“Right, but for the ADHD brain, you have to use a lot more energy to get started and to get finished the things you don’t want to do.”

All right, fine. That might be true.

So I started to accept that I miiiiiight have ADHD. My mom was shocked when I told her and insisted she didn’t remember me bouncing around or having trouble keeping up with assignments in school. (Except that wasn’t…actually true. I had a gazillion late assignments in elementary school but then I switched from private school to public in sixth grade, and school became much easier. I could keep up because I was usually finished before other kids.)

But diagnosis seemed impossible. I didn’t want to go through the whole debacle of setting up a doctor’s appointment, calling insurance, finding someone to assess me, yada yada yada. (Side note: the cruelest thing to do to a person with undiagnosed ADHD is to make them jump through a lot of administrative hoops to get to their diagnosis. Which is exactly what you have to do.)

At the same time, my sister was going through her own journey of getting an ADHD diagnosis. However, when she began treatment for ADHD, I wasn’t particularly surprised because her behaviors looked much more like classic symptoms to me. She went on meds as soon as she could and told me that it just felt like she wasn’t so tired anymore. That she could just… do things. And like, yeah, speed can do that for a person. But honestly, I was thinking I could use some controlled substances to boost my brain energy if they’d give them to me.

By the time I was able to get in with a psychologist, I was already most of the way through my first year as a teacher. I couldn’t sit through curriculum planning meetings without getting lost in the conversation, I couldn’t keep my mind focused during my own lesson planning, and I couldn’t fucking grade papers for more than ten minutes at a time. Damn, though, I was really good at pretending I was a well-functioning adult. I can lie my ass off, and I am a fairly good actor, so I was terrified the psychologist was going to tell me that it wasn’t ADHD—I’m just lazy and dumb and I need to try harder.

Shockingly, this is not what he told me. He said I have combined type ADHD which means hyperactive and inattentive. Hilariously, he said since Covid started, he has seen a huge influx of teachers getting diagnosed. It’s a job that attracts ADHD types because you’re never doing the same thing for long and it’s just constant stimulation. (I was chatting with a fellow teacher friend about it who also has ADHD—two other teacher friends overheard our conversation, grimaced at each other, and muttered that they might need to make appointments with their doctors too…)

Pretty soon I started meds, and it was life-changing. I realized that I was using food for stimulation for most of my life which was why it was so fucking hard to keep a healthy weight. I can now run longer distances because I’m not sabotaging myself by constantly remembering how bored I am or how much I want to stop. Grading papers still sucks but I can now grade for a few hours at a time, take well-planned breaks, and then jump back into it. Although not officially designated a symptom of ADHD, my Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria is much more manageable. I’m not constantly critiquing myself in the mirror anymore.

It’s truly been fascinating to see these changes in the last six months.

That’s not to say I’m cured or things are super great all the time. Laundry is still a struggle and I spent most of my weekend just lounging around the apartment (and called it rest). Last week, I increased my Adderall dosage to 15mg because what worked in the summer when I’m off work is NOT enough during the school year. In any case, I’ve been reflecting on how my diagnosis has helped me to see areas of growth in my life. Instead of “oh, I’m just an impulsive shopper,” it’s more like, “Oh, you are very susceptible to targeted ads. Let’s be cognizant of that and create a check system that helps you decide if you really need to buy that thing.”

I’ve learned that ADHD is NOT an excuse. I do NOT get to opt out hard things because of neurodivergence (I mean, sometimes yeah, I do, but not all the time, lol). Instead, it’s been a fun challenge to assess what I feel like I can’t do and figure out a way to trick my brain or work with my cute little weirdo brain to get shit done. I love puzzles! And damn if my brain isn’t one huge puzzle.

So here’s my advice: there is no such thing as laziness. If your problem is that you think you’re lazy, but since laziness doesn’t exist, it has to be something else. It could be ADHD—it could also be that you expect someone else to do the thing for you or that you’re depressed or that doing that thing you’re ignoring just isn’t something you care about.

Keep reflecting and remembering that you are not static.

Book recommendation: How to Keep House While Drowning by KC Davis

#2023 personal reflection #it’s actually just a reflection of my adhd diagnosis

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auroraesmeraldarose · 3 months

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Professor Dekarios AU fic pt2 - also available on AO3 for your easy reading pleasure :)

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The next six weeks were a blur of work, lectures, and tutorials. The first assignment deadline was on the horizon, and Helene had been working feverishly in as much of her spare time as possible on it. Her crush on Professor Gale Dekarios had not yet disappeared, though she was quite well distracted by all her reading and research, alongside her day job. Gale finished his next tutorial with an announcement that brought that crush quite clearly back into focus, though.

“Well, team, you have three more weeks until your first assignment is due. I would absolutely love to hear from you about your plans for it; if anyone is interested in a one to one tutorial to discuss your research, just sign up on the form I’ll email to you now.”

Helene had of course been one of the first to sign up, and was quite looking forward to some time one on one with Gale, even if it was through a screen, and even if it did make her feel a little nervous.

The evening of the private tutorial came quickly. Gale sat in his study, Tara on his lap, and a glass of wine on the desk in front of him. When he offered these one to one tutorials they inevitably ended up being after eight in the evening, when his students were finished with their day jobs and family obligations. A little glass of wine felt like the only way to motivate himself to get through them, sometimes. Tonight he only had the one tutorial, and had considered trying to reschedule it and give himself the night off; he was fond of the student he was meeting, though, and that was enough to convince him not to reschedule. She had been an active participant in all their discussions, offering some insightful comments that suggested she would do particularly well in the course. Over the past six weeks she had been at every lecture and tutorial, except one. Even then she had sent a very polite, apologetic email explaining that she had to be at her workplace’s Open Evening until nine that night, but would of course catch up on the recording as soon as she was home. She was clearly a bit of an over-achiever, and Gale usually liked that in a student, provided it wasn’t accompanied by attention-seeking or hubris. Helene, though active in their sessions, did not dominate them, and seemed quite modest in her own estimations of her knowledge. Perhaps too modest, in fact. And so, as eight o’clock rolled around, he found himself quite looking forward to hearing about her plans for the first assignment.

“Now, Helene, would it offend you, or result in you reporting me to the University if I indulge in a small glass of wine while we discuss your assignment plans? It’s absolutely fine if you’d rather I didn’t - but these late tutorials always feel a little more pleasant with a libation!”

Helene laughed, and turned on her webcam, to reveal that she too had a glass of red wine in her own hand.

“I wasn’t being rude, having the camera off - I was just going to finish my wine first! I didn’t want you to think I was being unprofessional, but I really needed a drink this evening.” Her voice was half apologetic, half laughing, and Gale enjoyed finally being able to put a face to the voice. His eyes flickered over the image on the screen. She was younger than many of his Masters students; she looked to be late twenties, early thirties perhaps - a lot of his students were retired already, and using that retirement to further their education. She was pretty, too, though of course he would never make such a comment about a student anywhere except in his thoughts. Her hair was long, red, and wavy, down almost to her elbows, judging from the few curls that hung in front of her shoulder. She had big, dark eyes and pale freckled skin, which looked even paler against the low necked black top she had on. Behind her were numerous shelves of books that almost rivalled his own, and dotted along the shelves were candles, crystals, ornaments and pictures.

“I imagine in your job you quite often feel the need for a glass of wine of an evening. I don’t envy you; teaching adults is much easier than teenagers, I would think.” He managed to stop thinking about her appearance long enough to speak, and his face was sympathetic.

“It certainly has its difficulties… And today has just been full of those particular difficulties.” Helene sighed, and took a sip of her wine. “But you don’t want to hear about my day, I’m already taking up a chunk of your evening! I’m sorry I chose such an awkward time for a tutorial, by the way…” She trailed off, chewing her bottom lip in a way that made Gale feel a little jolt in his stomach which he firmly squashed back down.

“It really is not a problem, I realise many of my students have jobs and families and such that have to come first. We can’t all live an ascetic, hermit like life of academic study, like me!” He laughed self-deprecatingly as he spoke, and the cat on his lap hopped up onto the desk, clearly disturbed by the movement.

“At least you have Tara to keep you company,” Aurora smiled, before continuing, “I’m starting to talk to my own notes as if they’re going to talk back!”

“Oh, don’t worry, I often do that. It’s only if they do start talking back you need to be concerned.” He smiled, his dark eyes sparkling. “I hope you don’t mind my asking, but uh… Do you have a decent, uh… Support network? Masters level study can be draining, especially alongside a job like yours. It’s important you have people around to help ease the burden. A roommate, a partner, a husband or wife, perhaps?” Gale hoped his casual tone kept his words professional; he wasn’t prying into her personal life, just making sure she would be well-supported in her studies. It was part of his job, to look after his students’ wellbeing, and make sure they did too. It was definitely, absolutely, professional, not personal.

Helene felt a hint of a flush creep over her chest at the question, and bit her lip nervously again before responding, causing another little jolt in Gale’s stomach as he watched. He was very glad you couldn’t tell through the camera how focused on her lips he was, and quickly tore his eyes back to hers as she responded.

“Well, I have good friends who will look after me when I have the inevitable MA-related breakdown! And people at work are being helpful about it, letting me skip some meetings to do work for this instead. But, no, at home it’s just me… Means fewer distractions from my studies, I suppose!”

“Ah, well… Just do make sure to reach out to those friends when you need to. And me, of course; I am here to support you through your studies this year, after all. A breakdown shared is a breakdown halved, as they say!” Gale grinned enthusiastically at his own joke, and even more so when Helene let out a little snort of laughter at him. “Now, on to the assignment; tell me everything - what are your thoughts so far?”

Helene spent the next twenty minutes in deep discussion about her assignment plan; Gale listened intently, adding questions and comments as she went. It was a good plan, and he was particularly enthused that Helene seemed to be really making the task her own. The statement for the assignment was a fairly straightforward one at first glance, and each year brought forth the same essay in slightly different words over and over. It was only ever a few exceptional students who managed to see through it and make a much more powerful argument in opposition; Helene was one of them. Although at first she had been tentative about disagreeing with the source material, his encouragement soon had her arguing quite fervently against it, and he enjoyed the passion with which she delivered her ideas. By the time the tutorial was supposed to be at a close, they were still deep in conversation, though they had found themselves drifting from the original topic. It wasn’t until Tara began pawing at Gale anxious for her supper that he looked at the clock, and realised their twenty minute tutorial had almost run into a full hour.

“Oh, Helene, I’m so sorry - I’ve kept you talking for almost an hour! You’ll have to forgive me, I do get carried away with the sound of my own voice sometimes.”

“No, prof- sorry, Gale, it’s my fault! I hadn’t even realised the time. I’m sure you have far more important things to do than listening to me ramble on!”

“It’s been a pleasure, really. I don’t think I’ve ever had such an enlightening and enjoyable tutorial.” He was grinning, the smile lines around his eyes creasing as he did so, and making him look even dreamier, in Helene’s opinion.

“It’s certainly been the most interesting one I’ve had, too. Thank you, Gale.” She smiled warmly back at him through the screen, her eyes flickering down to her desktop then back up to him, and making his stomach jolt for the third time that evening. Tara began pawing at him again, and Helene laughed softly. “I think Tara might be feeling a little left out, so I suppose I should let you go…”

“Yes, she’s waiting to be fed, I think. I’ll see you at our next session, then. Good night, Helene.” He gave her a little wave, and Tara batted at his hand as he did so.

“Thank you again. Good night, Gale, and good night Tara!” Aurora waved back, still with the same warm smile, as she clicked the x in the corner of the screen.

For a moment, Gale stared unseeing at the blank screen, as Tara continued to paw at him. He really had enjoyed his evening, and was surprised by just how much. He dragged his mind back to the present, and went to feed Tara, trying hard to forget the image of Helene smiling warmly, looking up at him from under her eyelashes. Gale continued trying to shake the thoughts from his mind as he collected the untouched glass of wine from his desk; he had been far too invested in their conversation to even stop for a sip. It was only just gone nine, but Gale decided to take his wine and a book to bed; he didn’t think he’d be able to concentrate on much more than that for the rest of the evening. Even then, he found it hard to keep his mind on his book, and had to repeatedly scold himself for letting his thoughts drift back to the conversation he’d had with Helene, and even more so when those thoughts drifted from their conversation to the way she bit her bottom lip. After an hour or so, and very few pages actually read, Gale gave up, and eventually went to sleep still trying to get Helene out of his mind.

Helene, in her own flat, was similarly finding it difficult to stop thinking about the way Gale had grinned at her, the way his eyes sparkled when he was talking passionately about something, and the little lines between his eyebrows when he was listening intently. She tried to focus on writing up her notes from their meeting, and solidifying the points they’d discussed into a formal plan for her assignment… But she kept hearing Gale’s voice in her head as she wrote, and remembering the way he raised a finger in the air when making a new point. God, she really thought she’d be over this stupid crush by now, but he was making it very difficult by being so damn attractive. Helene forced her mind back to her study, and found herself still at her desk gone midnight, drifting between academia and thoughts of Gale.

#fanfic #bg3 gale #bg3 #gale dekarios #fluff #gale of waterdeep #bg3 au #professor dekarios #bg3 fic #bg3 fanfiction

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kanonsarchivedblog · 1 year

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Shinigami Age Weirdly.

Hi, I have thoughts. Please note, this post will contain massive spoilers if you haven't finished the TYBW arc. Please look away now if you don't want content spoiled for you.

Now, Shinigami age at a much slower rate than humans, for obvious reasons.

The oldest we have (or had-) was Yamamoto Genryūsai, who was already an older man 2,000 years ago, when he recruited Unohana Retsu (who was, at the time, known as Yachiru Unohana- the FIRST Kenpachi). Realistically speaking, Genryūsai would be closer to 3.5, maybe 4,000 years old; not as old as the Soul King, but certainly an elder in his own right.

Unohana Retsu would be close to his age, but marginally younger; she was in her youth when she was running her gang. 3,000, give or take a few years.

Below her would be Sasakibe Chōjirō, Yamamoto's lieutenant. He was an elder to Shunsui and Jyūshiro; he achieved his bankai before they were in the Academy. He, too, would be around 2k years of age.

The Academy was created 1,000 years ago, along with the Seireitei as we now know it.

Then, we enter into the territory of Shunsui and Ukitake, who are below 1,000, but just barely. I see them both being in the 900 realm. In human years, they'd be akin to early to mid forties.

Kensei, Lisa, and Hachigen would be in the same age range; 800-700. Established Shinigami who were strong in their own rights.

Rose is in the 700s, along with Isane and, in my opinion, Kenpachi. Middle generation kids.

Shinji, Kisuke, Yoruichi, Tessai, Aizen, and Mayuri are in the 6-500s, scattered throughout. The "Golden Generation", per say. Early-to-mid thirties.

Hiyori, Mashiro, Byakuya, Hisana, Tōsen are in the 500s. Mid-to-late twenties gang.

Gin, Rangiku, Hisagi, Yumichika, Ikkaku, Akon are in the 400s. Young bloods. Early-to-mid twenties.

Kira, Renji, Rukia, Hanatoro- 300s. Babies of the group. Early 20s. Hitsugaya & Momo are the youngest, until we hit the Echoing Jaws of Hell arc and we get Yayahaba, Atau- their generation. Late 100s, early 200s. Late teens, per say.

The longer you live, the slower you age. All spirits, from what we know, arrive as children or toddlers, even infants (unless there's something I missed but I'm 99% sure everyone arrives as a wee little thing).

So yeah.

That's the age range for the Shinigami based on the time of the first Kenpachi, the creation of the Gotei 13, Yamamoto and Ywhach's first fight, and what we know from the Zero Squad. I could be wrong! Who knows! It would be nice if Kubo could DROP THEIR AGES. Or how the Shinigami age. That'd be real swell.

BUT FOR NOW. This is what we have. Or what I have.

Bye.

#bleach #bleach thousand year blood war #shinigami #yamamoto genryusai #retsu unohana #chojiro sasakibe #gotei 13 #shunsui kyoraku #ukitake jushiro #kisuke urahara #mayuri kurotsuchi #vizards #i'm not tagging anyone else

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fatedtruths · 8 months

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❝ i dont want it ! dont you bloody see ? i am not like you . i can't afford to be reckless. i dont have a family who will support me. i don't go about shoving who i am in everyone's face and dreaming about a career in fucking politics, so i can be more scrutinized and picked apart by the entire godforsaken world. ❞ --- book

[ ❝ for christ's sake alex for once i wish you could see me for who i am and not who you want me to be . sometimes i dont think you know me at all . i'm not like you . i cant afford to be reckless. i wasn't raised by a loving supportive family like you were. I have centuries of history bearing down on my shoulders. my life is the crown and yours is politics and i will not trade one prison for another. ❞ ] --- movie

❝ i can love you , and want you, and still not want that life . i'm allowed. all right. and it doesnt make me a liar; it makes me a man with some infinitesimal shred of self-preservation, and you dont get to come here and call me a coward for it. ❞ --- book & movie

the best part of this speech boils down to TWO major things : 1. henry's fear here is about his future being a political figure rather than a fading into obscurity royal and not about coming out as gay . and 2. he feels like alex doesn't see him, like he hasn't been listening to him at all the entire time

number one . crown vs politics instead of coming out .

henry has known he was gay for as long as he can remember , he is incredibly confident in that fact about himself and has never shied away from being with men . what henry does fear is his family and their long term abuse and they have made it perfectly clear that as it stands he is not allowed to come out BUT given half a chance he would, after a bit of worrying , come out in a heartbeat . it's simply that his chance may be twenty or more years in his future , it definitely wont be soon and he has long accepted that .

henry is acutely aware that he is the spare to the throne . which means philip will eventually have children and those children will eventually over take him as second in line ( and then third and fourth ect ) and with every new niece or nephew his proximity to the throne lessens . which means that his importance lessens . he fully expects , by the time he is in his mid-late thirties , to begin his fade into obscurity as philip and his royal brood are the ones wanted at events rather than him . christ . he knows eventually he'll lose the prince of wales title and he's looking forward to that too . he is counting on this happening . he's got things he wants to do when he becomes a lesser royal , he wants to do a PhD, he wants to travel , he wants to walk through ancient cities without being mobbed by crowds because only obscure royalists and reaching paparazzi still know who he is . he cannot wait for it .

alex's future , as far as henry knows from everything that alex has told him , looks like law school and congress and the oval office and alex will achieve that . henry has absolutely no doubt that that man is incredible and so impressive and so smart and he will achieve it. claremont (diaz) is going to be the new dynastic political family in the united states . henry can tell . and he would be so proud of that . but he cannot be a part of it . he refuses to be a part of it . otherwise just as he's expecting to shift into his obscure best life his future will look like the partner ( or husband ) of an american congressman , or a sitting american president , and there is nothing obscure about that . christ . if anything it is more invasive than his life already because at least there is an understanding that he will not answer questions on religion or politics or tense topics , at least he has the protection of a firm that has existed for centuries, and has centuries of experience of controlling the narrative . as much as he thinks the crown is obsolete , and as much as they are responsible for most of his issues , they do protect him as much as they exploit him . they are the devil he knows , the devil he understands , politics is not . in his mind , politics is worse .

but this should not be a problem , it doesn't matter that he has loved alex the entire time because alex will eventually get bored and move on . at least that is what henry thinks , that is what he expects . instead , alex begins to talk about holding hands in public and building a future together and henry doesn't even remember how he builds to the emotional almost confession , but he remembers how the panic built in him because he cannot give alex that , not when alex is so fixed on his future being politics .

so he runs . he tears his own heart out with his bare hands and cuts alex loose because he cannot be that for him and he will not be that for him . instead he will watch him and want him and love him from a distance and will make himself content in existing like that .

number two . how alex sees him .

alex's speech in texas frustrates henry when he thinks back on it because alex's words imply that the only reason that they are not out already is because of the building election . it ignores all of the pressures and stresses that henry has bearing down on him , it ignores his abusive and homophobic and racist family , it ignores how they have convinced him he will not be accepted as a gay prince , but mostly it ignores every fear and truth he has ever told alex about his life .

long story short, alex hits a nerve .

alex who initially hated him for four years because of a simple misunderstanding where he did not even think to consider that he might not be perfectly charming only a few months after his father died . and henry who is so used to people jumping to conclusions about him and forgetting that he is someone with thoughts and feelings and fears that he's overly sensitive to it . in that moment and in the thinking on it afterwards henry realises the ache in his chest comes from not being considered . alex is once again projecting who he wants him to be onto him and henry thought he had been so clear and honest and open with him about who he was on him . he thought he was clear that just because he is confident in his sexuality doesn't mean he wants to come out . especially not in the next year and he never indicated that he wanted to come out with alex .

once again , alex just assumed , projected onto him this image of someone who is itching to get out of the closet and show the world his sexuality just because alex realised he was queer a few months back and is now ready to scream it to the world does not mean that the man who has known his his entire life is ready to as well . he isn't. he's not there yet .

#[ HENRY — headcanons ]#this is long as balls and i am not remotely sorry. i have had THOUGHTS and FEELINGS about it all day #im not saying that alex's line about how queer people have the right to not want to come out at all #is directly a way of him saying he /gets it now/ to henry. esp while he cant see or talk to him #except that is exactly what i am saying

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jrpneblog · 2 months

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Rovers Return

After a 100% return this week North End entertain Blackburn Rovers at Deepdale on Saturday afternoon in what is the only home derby of the season. North End go into the game on the back of three consecutive wins with the two coming this week being away at Cardiff last Saturday and at home to Middlesbrough on Wednesday evening. Incredibly, after a nightmare couple of months before Xmas, North End now find themselves level on points with the team in sixth place and only out of the play off picture on goal difference. If North End make it four wins on the bounce this Saturday then I feel that the belief would start to return right throughout the club and the manager will have repaired some of the damage that awful winter run left in its trail. Some of Ryan Lowe`s problems with the fans were self inflicted but nothing breeds forgiveness like winning football especially against your local rivals.

At Cardiff, last Saturday, North End got off to a pretty sluggish start and were guilty of giving the ball away far too often in the middle of the Park. Mind you, once Emil Riis had scored the opening goal on the half hour mark I thought that North End never really looked in any danger in the game in spite of the best efforts of the home side. Ben Whiteman made it 2-0 for North End five minutes from the break and from then on we controlled the game in midfield and never really let the Bluebirds have a sniff. It was a very decent performance for the last hour of the game and a great ending as the 562 travelling fans celebrated with the boys at the end of the game.

On Wednesday evening Middlesbrough were the visitors to Deepdale and after a 0-4 hiding up at the Riverside in the Autumn, North End were looking for revenge against Michael Carrick`s team. The game started off fairly even but it was obvious Boro had some good ball players in the middle of the Park and that North End would have to be on their toes for the full ninety minutes. Millar opened the scoring a little bit against the run of play but North End went in one up and full of confidence. When Azaz equalised for the visitors it felt a bit fearful however Riis restored the lead just three minutes later and in spite of a concerted effort late on by Middlesbrough, North End saw it out for an excellent three points against a team that are under achieving in my opinion.

So we come to this weeks main event and the visit of Rovers to Deepdale on Saturday afternoon. As it stands North End are ninth in the table with Rovers down in sixteenth and twelve points behind North End even though they have a game in hand. Blackburn will still be smarting from the late winner by Lindsay back at Ewood Park in December that sent the travelling fans wild with delight. Rovers have taken sixteen points from their fifteen away games having won five, drawn one and lost nine, scoring twenty two goals whilst conceding thirty. Clearly Szmodics is the danger man for Blackburn but with Dolan and Gallagher up front North End will have to be on their toes defensively in this game. I feel that we can do some damage up front and with Mads looking better by the game North End will be the more confident going into this encounter but it is a local derby and as such all form usually goes out of the window. No doubt in my mind that the team that wants it the most will win this particular game.

And finally this week :- I had to rub my eyes when I saw that North End were charged by the FA for failing to control their fans and homophobic chanting. A football stadium, historically has been like the House of Commons. You could say things inside that you wouldn`t get away with on the street. Whether this is right or wrong is a debate for another day but I will be very interested to see what the FA have to say about the Chelsea fan making Monkey gestures in the cup tie of which there is video evidence. As in politics it seems like there is one rule for the Premier League and another rule for the EFL and quite frankly it is absolute bollocks.

MATCH PREDICTION -

BLACKBURN ROVERS (H) League - Home win

JR`s HIGH FIVES

Aberdeen to beat Hibernian 6/5

A £5 Stake returns £11.00 on bet365

SEASONS STATS

Returns £96.00 Stake £140.00

Percentage profit+/-loss - 31.43%

Predictions 28 won 9 lost 19

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theartblockcentral · 8 months

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He's proposing in October to his girlfriend

He's proposing to his girlfriend in October.

Genuinely, I've had such big feelings for this man since I met him. I KNEW he had a girlfriend, I was incredibly delusional because he was everything I ever wanted in a guy, he's smart, caring, handsome as ever, and he was NEVER mine.

This is the thing, until yesterday, I was struggling to even commit to a job application. I am going into my final year at uni, and I have to get a job, and the opportunity has come up for me to be an assistant at a famous artist's studio. It'd be my big break- I finally did apply, but it took me almost a full week to send it in. I was so sure I could've been doing it to impress my parents that I was afraid to commit. I was afraid of even committing to my own big break in my career, and yet, I seemed to be so sure about my feelings about this guy I only knew for 6 months.

I know my life is starting to go somewhere: this isn't even the first engagement announcement today! A friend (ish) from year 7 has gotten engaged. How is everyone so sure about everything? I know I'm not meant to be looking for commitment right now. In fact, I don't even want to, but once it gets to this point where people are able to find joy and achieve what they want in life at the same time, it makes me wonder where my balance is. I wish to be single, become a great artist, or actress, or something of note, and settle in mayyyybe late twenties to thirties. I'm at the point in my life where I don't feel pressure to be in a relationship, and I feel validated by my own single life. The only problem is having moments that hit my core like this and remind me that people have their own stories and lives. I'm not going to stop them. The memories I've made for them are just memories, and I'm not a part of their present. I spent all this time on exchange making my feelings known, and it felt like a massive breath of fresh air, but now it's as though the things I want are just so far off from me that I can't picture them. I could picture him, I could see him, he seemed like an achievable something.

In the end, I guess it's like this: I need to commit to myself. Let things go and keep moving. I'm in a new place, I'm ready to work for myself, and I am the most important thing in my life. I deserve lovely people, and I need to learn that I can love people and not have to be in love with them.

Currently listening to Speak Now by Taylor Swift, whisper-screaming. I'm a whole different level of delusional! But it's okay, From my last relationship ending, I know now that, if I learn to put that level of emotional effort in for others into myself, the results are great.

Still a bit heartbroken though. Ha, ha, haaaaaaa.....

#blog #artists on tumblr #i feel sick

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uptonogoodindiememes · 8 months

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One Tree Hill Sentence Meme - I Forgot to Remember to Forget

“How’s the writing going?”

“So I was doing some organizing and look what I found,”

“Go home and go to bed,”

“What time is it?”

“Almost four thirty, I couldn't sleep either,”

“I’ll get back to chasing my dreams someday,”

“We all make sacrifices,”

“You’re a part of this family, and you always will be,”

“A little early, aren’t you?”

“You were always a great player, but you’re an even better coach,”

“There’s nothing more I can teach you,”

“You’ve got to be careful, cause if you’re not, that temper of yours will be the only thing you have left,”

“I just don’t know if people are ever gonna forget the mistakes I’ve made,”

“I just don’t want you to look back down the road in a couple of years and wonder what might have been,”

“You wouldn’t mind dropping me off at the airport, would ya?”

“Basically, I work in the mail room,”

“You’re gonna get me in trouble,”

“No seriously, why do you put up with this?”

“You’re gonna have to go before you get us both fired,”

“I got dinner reservations for us at eight,”

“I get salary, benefits, and the big office,”

“Wow, that sounds very adult,”

“Crap, I’m sorry, it’s work,”

“Can’t you at least stay for desserts?”

“You did not have to do that,”

“Hey, when’d you get here?”

“I love you, and I want us to be together forever,”

“Look, yesterday was a great day,”

“I’m sitting on the bus, and I realize that none of my great days in my life, matter without you,”

“You’re the one I want next to me when my dreams come true, and you’re the one I want next to me if they don’t,”

“As long as I have you, nothing else matters,”

“It’s just not as simple as all of that, okay? I mean there’s a lot we have to talk about,”

“Right now, this is my home and the only thing it’s missing is you,”

“We’ve seen each other three times in the last year,”

“We’ve already grown so far apart, who knows where we’ll be a year from now,”

“If you can’t trust that our love can make it for one year, I don’t understand how we can be talking about forever right now,”

“I am not saying no, I’m saying not now, I want to marry you someday,”

“Don’t do that, okay? Don’t pull away from me, I want us to be together, I love you so much,”

“They’re publishing my novel,”

“I don’t care who your father is,”

“We’re talking late hours, long nights, heated arguments, it’ll probably feel like we’re married,”

“I just wanted to say thanks you, for changing my life,”

“We should be celebrating not complaining,”

“I’m really glad you’re enjoying this,”

“I think you’re saying that because you’re hurt, and I get it, but I don’t think you really mean it,”

“You know what? I think we need to get drunk, really really good and drunk,”

“Who knew that the ring trick would get us free drinks all over midtown?”

“The bed is spinning,”

“I think that might have been the second stupidest thing you’ve done in the last twenty four hours,”

“I’m gonna go, and you probably won’t see me for a while,”

“I’ve been calling you all night,”

“Thank you, for supporting me, and helping me get my dream back,”

“It’s uh. . . bamboo, it’s supposed to bring luck,”

“You still taking a trip down memory lane?”

“You should never be ashamed of your achievements,”

“You ever wonder if we chose the right paths?”

#open starter #roleplay meme #roleplay starter #indie rp starter #one tree hill #padfoot

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ego-morior · 1 year

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LIV

I got on a plane and left Georgia so I can spend my birthday week with my family near Washington. The moment we took off, I realized I had left the ground nearing the end of my twenties, and that when I would return, I would be 30.

Right now as I write this, it is an hour shy of midnight. I have been quiet and a little out of it for a couple of hours now. I'm happy. I'm grateful for where I am, and how I am able to spend another moment in time with my grandmother who's health has been waning as of late. But there is a burning in my cheeks I've been experiencing since I awoke this morning. It's a sensation that mimics a drunkenness state but I haven't had an ounce of alcohol. I'm not sure what it is, exactly. I'm here but I'm not. I talk, but I don't know what I'm saying. I hear, but I don't listen to what is being said. The best I could describe the sensation is a very productive state of autopilot.

I didn't think I'd get here. I never thought I'd reach this age, at least not in this position. Throughout my years of throwing temper tantrums and shouting empty threats into the sky of how I better be happily married with a family of my own by the time I'm 30; this reality I have slowly cultivated has become the worse-case scenario in terms of my hopes and aspirations.

I am unwed, with no real partnership. I have no children, no house that I own. I have finally reached the year I had always manifested would be an existence that was beyond my comprehension at the time of my desperate cries and pleas. I always imagined I'd be surrounded by family at a dinner table in a place I had come to call home, with my husband's hands draping the edges of a chair behind me as I sat in front of a cake with glowing candles, in a room filled with friends and family. I thought I would be skinny and beautiful, with love in my eyes. A love that I only imagined could come from the realization that I had achieved everything I had ever wanted from a life I believed was worth living. In those visions, my happy self was the most beautiful person I had ever seen.

I awoke this morning, with air in my lungs, fresh clothes on my back, in a warm bed with the ability to get up on my own. I hobbled my way to the bathroom, and the first thing I saw on my final day of being in my twenties was a sadness I didn't think I would have to recognize anymore. The love I had envisioned in the eyes of the woman I thought I would become all these years, was not there. What do I do with this information? My brain hasn't been able to process it properly. The woman I had envisioned turning 30, with her face glowing from the lit cake, sat atop a dinner table I had recognized as something I owned in my own home, surrounded by friends I had accumulated throughout the years and family members that had arrived just for the occasion, with a husband who had planned it all along, never existed. I fell in love with an illusion and did nothing to achieve it and turn it into reality.

I am no different than the little girl I was who wrote my future-self letters begging for advice on how to become her. All this time. All these years. I still craved the existence of a future version of myself that would never exist. Whether it was a secret time traveler, or a fulfilled woman in her thirties. Both expectations were mere fantasies. I'm beginning to realize the tickling in my cheeks are from an internal sense of embarrassment and disillusionment I had felt all along.

I was never her and I, in turn, have never changed.

I walked out of the bathroom a couple minutes after midnight pretending I hadn't noticed the time. My grandmother had organized the bed for me and laid out special pillows and a well-placed fan at my side. The renovations happening in the house have allowed me to sleep in her bed during my stay here. I sat down drying my hair in a towel as she explained the best ways to dry hair before bed. She turned at some point and noticed it was after midnight and rushed over to give me a hug and said Happy Birthday.

The uneasiness and melancholy I felt this week but was unable to release had all accumulated into a waterfall of tears, and I began to sob hysterically in her arms.

A couple minutes ago, I had yearned for a future I envisioned for years and grieved its death, without taking into account the reality of having my grandmother here still with me and being greeted in her arms as I welcomed this new era in my life. I am so overwhelmed with different emotions right now I feel like I'm about to faint.

Happy 30th Birthday.

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mensnorsevikingjewelry · 1 year

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Boxing To Keep Fit

youtube

Good health and an active lifestyle have allowed me to enjoy a wide variety of activities, including those at a respectable level, such as soccer and cycling.

The prospect of watch box waking up early on a Sunday to face a team that could be described as the missing link between Neanderthal man and Homosapien was less appealing the further away from 25 I got. I had raced bicycles to a respectable level in my late teens, and I had always enjoyed the sport. However, cycling is one of those activities that requires complete dedication, and I was unable to maintain the necessary level of training once I started a family.

At the beginning of my thirties, I realized that I needed an exercise routine that would provide me with structure while still allowing me some degree of flexibility, all while pushing me to my physical and mental limits.

I made my choice to become a professional boxer there

Boxing was always a thrilling spectacle to me. When I was a kid, my dad would sit me down to watch MMA bouts on TV. I always thought boxers were a unique breed; after all, what normal person would enter a boxing ring with the sole aim of hitting their opponent and taking no damage themselves?

My expectations were not met by the intensity of boxers' training or by the kindness and generosity of the sport's practitioners.

I'm quite fit, as I've indicated; I'm also competitive; I love to learn; and I don't give up easily on challenges. I soon learned that these are all qualities that serve me well in the ring.

A friend I'd met at the local sports center told me that he'd been training at the boxing gym and that I should go along with him, and I immediately jumped at the chance. The thought of going to the local boxing gym had always been a bit daunting, and I never knew how I'd be received, being on the wrong end of twenty with no experience in the sport.

I regret not making that choice sooner in life

That location captivated me. I was completely taken aback by everything I encountered there, from the scents to the sounds to the machinery.

There includes a ring and 14 different punch bags for practising a variety of techniques. Since this was my first time seeing a real boxing ring, curious about what I am, I had to go in there and take a look around. It gave me strength!

When watching boxing on TV, it seems like you just throw a punch, keep your guard up, move, avoid getting hit, block a punch, and keep going, but in reality, you have to deal with someone who wants to strike you harder and more times than you hit them, and you also have to remember to breathe.

Thankfully, I didn't spend too much time in the ring before I was forced to learn the fundamentals. One of the trainers at the gym pulled me aside and immediately began working on my footwork, the most fundamental aspect of my game.

I went to the gym four times in the first week, and although each session hurt a little more than the last, I couldn't get enough of it. A circuit class, where twenty or so fighters are pushed through their paces twice a week, was my next logical step. Press-ups, squat thrusts, burpees, star leaps, and various crunches and sit-up variations were among the exercises included in the circuit, which lasted for 16 sets of two minutes each with a minute of rest in between. Between these drills, one of the coaches would pull you away for some pad work. I'd never been through training quite like this, but I loved every minute of it.

Diet and nutrition [http://www.nike-trainers.com/The News/Latest News/Nutrition %96 A Beginners Guide/] were the primary things I altered as a result of the training's emphasis on peak performance. It seemed counterproductive to put in as much effort in training as I was if I was just going to undo it.

Unfortunately, I reached the age of 34 before I was ready to compete at a high level in amateur boxing in the UK, but I continued to train as though I had a goal to achieve. I was 37 years old when I started boxing, and I've never been in better shape.

Even now, seven years later, I occasionally visit the gym for workouts. Even though my obligations and schedule have shifted, I still feel a surge of excitement whenever I enter.

#watch box

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awakenedlife · 1 year

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Happiness is Not Something We Need to Do

Photo by Karina Vorozheeva on Unsplash

Happiness used to be a distant memory I had of my childhood when I was in my late teens. When I grew older into my twenties and early thirties it seemed to allude me even more so.

I would ruthlessly chase after it through work, money, friendships, hobbies, travel, cars, drugs, alcohol and relationships.

I used to believe much like most other human beings do that happiness was only attainable through doing. Doing more and more of the things we believe that make us happy.

I was lost in an additive model of life. Add more doing and feel more of what I was lacking.

Innocently we are indoctrinated into this misunderstanding that to be happy we must complete a to-do list or a to-have list or a to-go list that is never ending.

We get glimpses of the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow where we are a happy for short periods of time but, we mistakenly tolerate a certain level of despair and call it happiness, when it's actually just despair wrapped in hope.

The happiest people on earth don't need the perfect reality to be happy.

There are no expectations that reality will provide everything they want in order to feel happy on a daily basis either. The pursuit for happiness is a western concept that leaves us disappointed and depressed.

Have you ever tried to chase after a cat or even a butterfly (without hurting them) only to have them slip away from you, no matter how hard you try?

Happiness works the same way, the more we search for it outside ourselves and the more we chase after it the more disappointed and exhausted we get. Not to mention the toll this takes on all other areas of our health.

Photo by Jim Molloy on Unsplash

Yet if we stay still the cat will come to us and purr and that butterfly may land on us.

When we learn to be still and silent within, happiness naturally comes through us with ease and flow. Of course to maintain this can be a struggle if we are constantly trying to control our thinking with more thinking.

This is why positive thinking to me is a bullshit concept that we buy into, and it leaves us anxious instead of happy as we press the accelerator of the mind to the floor controlling our thoughts.

Along this journey I have been on for the past 38 years it has only been in the past 5 years that happiness has not been a constant emotional state that I have lacked.

After being told by someone whom I cared for that "I don't make them happy" a lightbulb went off in my head and I had a monumental insight that completely destroyed everything I thought I knew about this pursuit for happiness.

I asked myself this.

If I can't make someone happy and happiness is an inside job, then what does that make every other human emotion we experience?

OHHHHHHHH an inside job🤦‍♂️🤔🤣

Simple in theory I guess but how in the heck do we achieve real lasting happiness?

Well for me it was simple, almost too simple for me to acknowledge and accept to be honest.

It began with following these simple rules:

Stop comparing myself to others and where I am currently in my life.

Stop looking outside myself for validation.

Stop reacting to reality and accept that I do not need to be in control of everything.

Stop blaming everything and everyone for how I felt.

Stop expecting that happiness is what comes to us and not through us.

When I stopped beating myself up and having all these expectations of myself, other people, and reality I began to experience more gratitude for what I had and where I was even if it was not perfect.

Yet again this is simple in theory and at the time I was muddling my way through it until yet another insight hit me.

Simply BE.

Before I dive too much more into Being I must share that my entire understanding of where my experience of life was coming from had shifted a number of months before this insight came.

Happiness to me now:

Is a single thought away.

Requires no doing-ness, having-ness or going-ness.

Moment to moment gratitude for the IS-NESS of life.

Is present 99% of my day (yes I still get tricked by my mind sometimes).

Flows through me and is a state of being.

We all have an innate intelligence within us that is ever present and it is only through our own misunderstandings that we get lost in a superstitious outside in way of thinking, that has us chasing after our emotions out there in reality.

Reality is always kinder then our thinking.

Happiness is closer then we could ever imagine when we stop looking for it outside of ourselves, and we understand that all emotions and all of our experiences are inside-out.

Being vs Doing

"Gratitude is the elixir of happiness." - Terry Butler

"Comparison is the thief of all joy." - Theodore Roosevelt

#happiness #insideout #understanding #mindfulness #isness #insight #gratitude

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unculturedmamoswine · 2 years

Text

Hey I actually wrote something for Forduary. It's a little late, but here's week 1: FordxSleep. In my case, guest starring some Fiddauthor!

Ford pressed his mouth and nose against the soft cotton covering his borrowed pillow. It smelled pleasantly like cupboard- a warm, clean, cozy smell that he hadn’t had occasion to smell much in the last few decades. Strange how all pillowcases kept in cupboards smelled different but fell unmistakably into a pattern of satisfyingly comfy scent profiles. Eyes closed, Ford reached his hand up to scratch at his nose and run his hand through his hair. He rubbed the pads of his fingers gently against his scalp. There might, he thought, be nothing as lovely or indulgent as napping with the light of a summer evening lingering outside. He stretched, toes clenching, hip popping, and relaxed even more against the nubbly texture of the old sleeping bag loosely hugging him, tucking one arm up under his pillow.

The acute comfort of his bedding and the heat in Ford’s small tent combined to bring him swirling down into sleep, dark and rich and, anymore, hardly ever plagued by nightmares. Ford drifted peacefully in that satisfying too-warm state that can only be achieved (or enjoyed) in a nap.

The deep, silent nothing was less shattered and more gently ruffled as the air mattress under Ford wobbled and swayed him into… something. Not wakefulness, but a distant relative.

“Hmngh.” Stanford rolled toward the new weight that had come to rest, as always, on the right side of the mattress. Instead of blindly reaching out, he shifted and squirmed, inching gracelessly toward the man next to him. A hand fell on his shoulder.

“Out like a light, huh?” Fiddleford��s hand moved to Ford’s cheek, warm, warm, arguably too much so but, averaged out across the entirety of Ford’s already overwarm body, hardly a change at all.

“How long?” Ford asked, turning his face toward the hand on his cheek, sliding his own hand down Fiddleford’s thigh, feeling the rough-soft denim over Fidds’s thin leg.

“Only took me about twenty minutes to get outta the kitchen after you ditched me. Sherman’s a nice feller, but maybe just a bit too interested in makin’ it clear to me that he ain’t bothered we’re shackin’ up on his lawn.”

“Mmm.” Fiddleford slunk down against the now-somewhat-overinflated-feeling mattress.

“Think he feels like he shouldn’t make us two old kooks sleep outside like a coupla smelly old dogs, but I told him he’s keepin’ plenty of guests inside the house and I’m less likely to blow it to kingdom come if I’m on the outside of it.” Fiddleford cackled, shifting under Ford’s hand until Ford could grab ahold and tug Fiddleford in.

“Y’always get so handsy when you’re sleepin’. Tell you what, it’s how I knew you were sweet on me in college.” Ford knew that already. He’s known that since Fiddleford brought it up about two weeks after their fumbling, furtive first kiss.

He drew Fiddleford back into the open sleeping bag like a colossal squid drawing a young sperm whale into the deep. His arms tightened around his prey, sighing at the feeling of Fiddleford’s bony shoulder blades against his arms, his bald head under Ford’s chin. His knees pressed against Ford’s thighs- it wasn’t objectively comfortable; more theoretically comfortable. Comforting, perhaps, to have Fidds there and real with him, to be within shouting distance of many people who cared for Ford or who, at the very least, had no reason to want him dead. Summer in his home dimension. Safe. Warm.

“Anyway,” Fidds continued, murmuring into Ford’s shirt. Ford tried to reel his mind back in, to listen to whatever it was Fiddleford was talking about. “I pointed out that we both spent thirty years without no good place to sleep and you’ve been livin’ on a boat for a year on top of that. But if I was wantin’ to convince him that we’re not too good for an air mattress I should’a just come in here and snapped a picture of you, huh? Ya looked like an ad for air mattresses all snuggly in here.” Ford floundered slightly, trying to grasp hold of a response to whatever it was Fiddleford was saying. “...Mm? What?”

Fidds laughed again. He kept talking, something teasing and lighthearted. Typical Fiddleford. Then: “You’re no use.” He patted Ford’s side. “Don’t worry yourself over it.”

Ford sighed in time with the soft shhh of a car creeping by on Shermie’s street. A scrub jay called out obnoxiously from somewhere nearby. Other, gentler sounds- a leaf drifting against the tent’s roof, a cricket’s chirp, a heavily muffled peal of laughter from inside the house- filtered into Ford’s mind and out again, fading gradually into nothingness.

#get ready for some incredible self-indulgence #gravity falls #fiddauthor #forduary #my post #my fic

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sirthisisa-wendys · 3 years

Note

Can you do Getou as a sugar daddy and new professor and the reader as a sugar baby and a teacher at the same university? Also, can you make it that after the reader stays at Getou's house, she is late to the meeting for the "new staff member"?

Job Description: Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

wc: 1.1k

tw: NSFW

"You enjoy dinner?" You place the to-go boxes on the counter before turning to your thirty-something sugar daddy, leaning on the counter before he leans in to kiss you deeply.

"I did," you reply, tangling your hands through his hair and pulling back a little. Suguru enjoys having you like this, you think as he hoists you onto the marble top and places himself between your legs. "I had a great time." You pull his tie so he kisses you again, his large hands resting on your exposed knees.

"Maybe I could ask for my dessert now?" he wonders, and you laugh, reaching into the bag.

"I don't think you saved any, daddy..." you whisper, and he bites your bottom lip.

"What do you mean? I have some right here." You squeal with delight when he picks you up and carries you to his bedroom, all of the steps from the kitchen to the bed memorized. You've been down this road before, and you know what Suguru desires more than anything is your time and your company. But he also enjoyed feeling your body underneath his for the price of a few fancy dinners, rent, and a new wardrobe. He could afford all of that and more, though.

But he doesn't consider the thousand-dollar price tag on the dress he strips from your body, nor the five hundred dollar shoes. And the hundred-dollar hairdo? Oh, that's gone. Suguru would fuck you so good, you'd forget you'd gotten your hair done at all. You rake your overpriced manicure across his back and toss off his expensive belt and pants, just to see the one thing he didn't have to pay a single cent for: his cock.

You get on your knees and place him in your mouth, and his face goes slack, just like it's supposed to. When you take all of him in your mouth with his dick touching the back of your throat, you think maybe he's gone weak since you last gave him a blowjob (which was two days ago). But then he starts fucking your face, and drool slides down your lips, your throat making noises that you think are somewhat abysmal, but Geto loves hearing them.

"Taking daddy's cock so well..." he breathes, then pulls out of your mouth. "Get up for me, babe. I want to feel you around me." You stand and stretch across the bed, ass up in the air for him to fuck into. There would be no grocery-list making while he fucks you. No, you'd be more concerned about when he'd let you cum all over his sheets.

When he slides between your folds, you moan, and he thrusts into you once, twice, three times before beginning his strokes, pressing into you so hard that his hips smack against your ass. "Fuck," you whisper, angling your hips up so he's rocking right against your g-spot.

"So wet and tight," he moans, leaning back on his knees. "You really know how to make a man weak, huh?"

"It's what you pay for," you retort, and he laughs running a hand down your back and resting in on your hip.

"Sounds like I'm getting my money's worth, then."

_____________________________________________________________

You wake up in Geto's arms and hum softly at the rising sun.

"Mmm; baby, what time is it?" you moan, and Suguru rolls over, looking at the clock.

"It's only nine-twenty."

"Oh..." You close your eyes again, then the memory of the ten o'clock meeting with the new staff pops into your head. "Oh, fuck!" Geto opens his eyes and watches you scramble around the room, gathering your clothes and preparing for a shower.

"What's the rush for?"

"New staff introduction!" you toss back, darting into the shower. "It's an important meeting!"

"Oh, I have one of those, too," you hear him announce while you run soap all over your body. "Should probably get dressed for that."

You two dance around each other after you finish your shower, and you fix your hair as best as you can before dressing in the two-piece suit and throwing on the freshwater pearls Geto gifted to you a month ago. You stop in your haste, adjust Suguru's tie, and press a kiss to his lips before whisking out of the door, tossing your overnight bag and purse into the seat next to you.

You check your appearance multiple times on the way to the school, which - thankfully - isn't too far from Geto's house, and park in your spot before dashing up the stairs to the History department hall. The dean's assistant, Urahime Iori, hands you an agenda for the meeting that you barely glance over before plopping down next to your co-worker, Gojo Satoru.

"Barely on time," he grumbles and you sigh. "Long night with Daddy Warbucks?"

"Very," you whisper, smirking at the man. He wiggles his eyebrows and you try your hardest to contain a chuckle.

"Well, the new Dean of the department isn't here yet, so you're lucky."

"I suppose we'll get started without the new Dean," Urahime murmurs, taking her place at the podium. "Okay, let's start off with some staff celebrations. Mr. Fushiguro just had a son, so let's give him some love. He has some long nights ahead of him." You all clap for him and the man rolls his eyes, grunting nonsense. "And our very own Mr. Gojo presented an award-winning dissertation on the topic of popular Historical Fictions and its... effects on the accuracy of student achievement." Gojo stands as everyone claps for him, bowing his head and waving. "And Ms. L/n sponsored a trip to the--"

The door to the meeting room opens and in walks Geto Suguru, adjusting his suit jacket.

"Ah!" Urahime waves him in. "Our new Dean is here! Everyone, welcome Mr. Geto to our staff!" You stiffen considerably at the sight of your sugar daddy walking through the staff, smiling at Urahime.

"I should start off with the fact that everyone should call me Suguru; you're my equals, not my..." When his eyes land on you, you avoid his gaze and tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. "Not my inferiors. Furthermore, I want there to be open communication between all of us. I'm happy to be here, and I want you to be, too." Everyone oohs and ahhs at Geto's speech, and he takes the empty seat right next to you, to your dismay.

"If I had known we were going to the same meeting, I would have brought you in the Tesla and let everyone get a chance to see you stepping out of my car."

"Um..." you fumble, and he chuckles.

"Meet me in my office after this. I think we have some things to discuss."

#geto suguru #geto x reader #geto smut #getou suguru #jujutsu kaisen getou #getou smut #jujutsu kaisen #jjk geto #jjk smut

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secretly-a-cold-blooded-murderer · 4 years

Text

Invisible String (Harry Styles x Reader)

(Soulmate AU)

A/N: Got inspired with this while listening to Taylor Swift’s Invisible string, hence the title. It took me a really long time to write this, hope you like it!

Warnings: none

Summary: In a world where soulmates are connected by an invisible red thread, how would you find yours?

“Maybe if I yank it hard enough, I’ll pull him to me.”

“Honey, you know that’s not how it works, right?” My Mom leaned forward and placed her hand on my arm, she looked genuinely concerned for me.

“Mom, you got it easy. You were fifteen when you bumped into dad. Literally. And here I am, twenty-six and still don’t know who is my soulmate,” My voice rising slowly as I pushed her hand away from me, I was getting rather frustrated having the same conversations over and over again.

“Oh don't be so dramatic, your Grandma was thirty-five when she met your Grandpa and you know how happy they were. You'll find him," my mom tried to reassure me. Again. “Or her," tilting her head to the side, she added as an afterthought.

I almost wanted to roll my eyes, my Grandma was a very patient lady, unfortunately, she didn't pass down the trait to me.

I had been waiting for my soulmate ever since I turned five and sort of understood the concept. Invisible red strings. Fate. The one.

My parents sat me down one fine day and explained to me how two people that were meant to be together were connected by an invisible red thread tied to their little fingers.

All I asked them at the time was if the thread was invisible, how did people know it was red. They told me I'll find out in due time.

I still didn't know the answer to that.

But after my five-year-old brain had absorbed the newly received information, I got obsessed with finding my soulmate.

There was something incredibly reassuring about having someone only meant for you. But wrapped around it was the uncertainty of how and when and you will find them, or even if you'll find them.

After that day, I would constantly find myself reaching for my pinky finger, a calmness washing over me, a hope to find someone, and call them mine.

My friends and I spent hours discussing our soulmates, what they would look like, how would we meet them, and so on. Our parents would look at us and coo, mostly finding this adorable, reminding them of a time when they were young and probably did the same.

That's how things worked.

I was ten and had left my obsession behind. I still found comfort in my little finger during times of sadness and anger.

One night in the middle of June, after a big fight with my parents, I ran up to my room, plopped myself on the bed, and let loose all the emotions building up in me.

It was a few hours later when my breathing calmed down and the tears on my cheeks dried when my left hand reached for my pinky, and my fingers felt a soft textured thread reaching out from it.

My eyes widened as I looked down at my hands but found nothing, only my fingers wrapped around what seemed to be air, a few inches in front of my right hand's littlest finger.

I could not comprehend what had happened and chalked it up to delusions due to my tiredness.

The next morning I woke up, groggy, my hands automatically reached for the supposed string that I could feel the previous night and found that I could still touch it. "Maybe I am still tired," I convinced myself before sleeping for another few hours.

It was after spending a few days just feeling out the string that I realised I could touch the red string of fate.

My parents didn't believe so, they thought I was still a delusional kid with my head up in the clouds. They found it cute for a couple of days, happy that I was still interested in finding a soulmate, but then my constant attempts at convincing them that it was true got annoying for them.

No one seemed to believe me, and my friends thought I was lying for attention.

Nothing like this had ever happened. Fate worked mysteriously, fate worked behind the scenes. No one was supposed to know how, it just worked. I must be lying.

Since no one believed me, I found solace in my thread, in my soulmate. I tried pulling the string, hoping the one on the other side would reply, would pull it towards them as well. But nothing.

I guessed maybe they couldn't feel the string as well, just like everybody else. But my soulmate was not like everybody else. If I could touch the thread then they could as well, after all, our souls were connected. Maybe they just didn't want me.

I never stopped though, just like my pinky had become my safety blanket, I found a new comfort in pulling the thread, twisting it between my fingers, still praying that my other half could feel it, even if they didn't respond.

I would spend hours trying to follow the thread, but it seemed endless and at the time, my block was where my world ended. My soulmate was way out of my reach.

Three months later, in the middle of my English class, I felt it. A tug. I looked down, before realising I could not see it. I almost laughed at my stupidity, but it was clear as day, my soulmate had responded.

My head shook as a slow smile crept up my face and I couldn't stop the sigh leaving my mouth. My classmates probably worried about my sanity, shaking my head and smiling at nothing sitting in the centre of the classroom. But I didn't care.

Knowing that there indeed was someone on the other side was like finding a piece of land after a lifetime at sea. I didn't waste a second to reply and received a tug again. I smiled, he was here and he was here to stay.

It was the start of something new. Every time, one of us felt down or lonely or happy we would pull at our thread, we now had someone to share those moments with.

I didn't know if his family or friends knew about us, but it felt like our secret.

Over the years, we formed this new language between us. Sometimes, we would pull the thread at the same time, or wait for the other to respond but no one would. It was uncoordinated and messy, like two drunk people attempting to dance, but it was ours.

I was eighteen when I figured a way to enhance our communication. Morse code.

It was some random detective show that gave me the idea and it seemed perfect. I just didn't know how to communicate this to him.

It took me less than a month to learn morse code. After I was done learning, I tried pulling at the thread in a specific pattern ‘Hey Soulmate’.

He wouldn't understand the message, but I prayed he would realise what it was.

He did.

Somehow, my soulmate had lost the ability to disappoint me. I smiled at the thought.

It took weeks of incomprehensible back and forth between us for us to finally be able to understand each other. It was hard, but we achieved it.

I realised two things from our exchanges.

One- My soulmate was a dork, his dad jokes were endless and two- I loved every second of it.

He would start pulling at the string in the middle of the night and I had to grab the notepad and pencil from my bedside table and decipher his messages half-asleep. And It would end up being some lame knock-knock joke.

You bet I laughed every time.

Which always led me to wonder what it would be like to actually be with him. How would he be as a partner? Would he hold my hand walking down the street? Would he kiss me in front of his friends? What nickname would he give me or would he give me any at all?

I spent most of my time talking to Harry, whose name I had learnt in one of our earliest full conversations.

My parents let it slide, believing it to be some teenage issues. My friends were lucky enough to have found their own soulmates at a young enough age and were too busy being in love.

"What do you want to be when you grow up?" I asked him one night.

I kept staring at the neon stars on my ceiling. Trying to conjure his face in my mind as I waited for his response, but didn't feel the now familiar tug that carried his replies.

It seemed like hours before my little finger was finally pulled at. With my notepad and pencil at the ready, I was prepared to write. “A musician”.

The corners of my mouth were pulled upwards and I imagined a young faceless man with a guitar in his hand performing in a stadium for thousands of people.

A laugh left me when I pictured him ending his concert with a final joke. People would groan at him but laugh nonetheless. They would love him too.

My mind then wandered to a future where he was performing at the Madison Square Garden, people screaming I love you from the audience. A huge smile gracing his lips. He would then came home late at night after the concert and lay down on the bed next to me. He would wrap his arm around my sleeping form and whisper I love you in my ear and I would respond with a sleepy mmph. He would smile down at me and eventually fall asleep too.

I looked down at the thread which was still pulling but all I could catch was a question mark. I cursed myself for not paying attention and asked him to repeat his question.

“What about you, Lovie?"

I stilled. Lovie? A nickname. So he was a nickname kinda guy.

I almost forgot to reply to him. But then instantly hit him back with a “Journalist”.

My pinky was pulled again, “Maybe that is how we will cross paths”.

I liked the thought.

"Owww," my right hand was pulled harshly when I stood up to submit my English assignment, causing me to fall forward. I was confused for a few seconds, trying to piece what caused it, but found nothing.

I looked around as everyone was laughing at my clumsiness, still dazed, I stood up and placed my essay on my teacher's table who looked at me with her eyebrows furrowed in concern, her lips parted to whisper "Are you okay?"

I nodded my head and returned to my seat, head down and my thoughts racing a thousand miles a minute. Before it clicked, Harry. I couldn't believe he made me fall down on purpose, or maybe it was an accident.

“Sorry”

I shook my head at my clumsy partner and focused on my teacher who had started talking about something else already.

I wasn't going to let the incident go that soon. During our next conversation, instead of sending him a reply, I held onto the soft, invisible thread tightly and yanked it towards me.

Not getting a reply soon after, I started worrying I had actually hurt him. Panic flowed through me, this was an insane idea, why would I do that? What if he was driving? What if he was at a height?

“Owww”

I admit I laughed, the incident wasn't hilarious enough to call for that level of laughter, but I did.

All my panic had immediately flown out of me. I loved it; before he pulled his end of the string again and made me fall down.

Thus, welcomed a new addition to our language.

We would yank our strings during mid-conversations, making the other fall down wherever they were. Did injury turn us on? We never tried to guess.

Moving to college was harder than I thought, I didn't know if I was moving closer to Him or farther away.

I considered asking him where he lived, but shook the thought away, we had promised not to reveal to each other any of our identifiable qualities except for our first names. We wanted to leave some things up to the true mastermind, Fate.

Going to New York University was my dream. Receiving my acceptance letter was an emotional moment for me, it took my Mom like an hour to calm me down enough to actually read the letter.

So, physically being here, standing in my dorm room was another level of excitement. I was ready to bedazzle the world with my writing.

"Ouch," someone came rushing into me from the back. I turned around to look at the person who bumped into me, only to find a five-foot-something, brown-haired girl standing in front of me, rubbing her forehead.

"Hi."

"Hello, you must be the roommate. I'm Olivia, what about you?" Her eyes held a curious gaze, as she extended her right hand towards me.

"Y/n," I placed my hand in hers and shook it lightly, having a good feeling about her.

"Y/n, brace yourself, we're gonna be best friends for a really long time."

I knew it.

During my time at NYU, Olivia really did become my best friend, she introduced me to her soulmate, Ashley, who was somehow an even bigger bundle of joy than Liv. I didn't know that was possible.

"Who're those guys?"

"Hmm?"

"In your poster, I have always wanted to ask you that," I pointed at the big poster Liv had stuck on her wall in our first year.

She looked at me, her brows raised up to her forehead and her mouth agape, "You don't know One Direction?"

"I mean, I have heard of them. Are they any good?" I remembered my friends back home making me listen to a song of theirs, "What makes you beautiful', it was catchy but I never dug deeper into them. I didn't even know why.

"Only the best," her mouth was set into a hard line, but her forehead was covered in creases as though she was thinking deeply about something.

"Come on, I'll show you their songs. I don’t why we’ve never done this before.”

This commenced a whole night of one direction albums, music videos, their documentary, and their recent concert film. She even called Ashley to our room, which began an intense lesson on the fandom ships, theories, and dramas. It was a busy night.

By the next day, I was more knowledgable about one direction than I had ever intended to be. I didn't it mind it though, I got to further learn the inner makings of my best friend.

I had to admit, I was a little partial towards Harry Styles, his name had become a personal favourite of mine. Plus, he was cute.

I also noticed how clumsy he was on stage. Constantly falling down, mid-performances. It was hilarious. Olivia told me that's just how he was. Goofy, dorky, always telling lame jokes.

“Do you know one direction?”

I waited for his reply, this one took longer than our previous ongoing conversation. I didn't like it when he replied late.

“Yes.”

“Olivia introduced me to them.”

“Who do you like the best?”

I didn't even have to think about it at all, “Harry styles.”

I hoped he was smiling, where ever he was.

“Really? Not my personal favourite.”

That idiot. My face was hurting from smiling so much. I wondered how I would even be in this guy's presence without physically hurting my cheeks.

But I knew I wouldn't mind it, as long as I could be with him.

“Who do you like then?”

“You.”

I had never known how successful my dream of becoming a journalist could be. All I knew of back then was my talent for writing and my passion to make my voice heard. And it was all I had ever needed.

Rolling Stone was a magazine only a few could say they were not familiar with. And even fewer who wrote for it.

I was one lucky girl, who worked through countless unpaid internships before finally landing a job at this prestigious place. I had written quite a few articles under the politics section of the magazine.

I kept up with Harry over the years, at this point I knew basically everything about him, except for what he did for a living, where he lived, and who he was. But I loved him. And I waited for him, even if did get tiring at times.

Everywhere I went, it felt like everyone had found their soulmates except for me. I was the one girl standing alone in the middle of a dance floor during a couple's song.

All these years he still seemed none the closer to me.

We still found joy in tripping each other during random hours of the day though; Falling for him was the highlight of my day.

"Maybe if I yank it hard enough, I'll pull him to me."

I had a rocky relationship with my parents, they had never believed in me, too busy in their own love story to pay attention to their only daughter. I couldn't hold it against them though if you had something as beautiful as they did, why would you focus on anything else.

I sigh in bitterness as my Mom rambled on about how she met my Dad. Although I had heard the story a billion times, it still made me smile. Then, reminded me how I didn't have that.

My phone started vibrating next to me, I looked at it to find it was my boss calling me. I tilted my head upwards, trying to recall if I had informed her of my visit to my parents' house. I had.

Confused, I picked up the phone, "Y/N, you need to come to the office now. We need you to take over the article Rob Sheffield was supposed to write," my boss's commanding voice instantly hits my ears, making me flinch backwards.

"Wait, what?"

"Rob had an urgent business to attend to and you are the only replacement available." Her voice carried her usual urgency.

"But Rob is a music journalist, I write politics." Her words were rushing past me and it was getting harder for me to keep up.

"Obviously I know that, but as I said you are the only replacement available, everyone else is already working on their pieces. Come to the office and get your assignment. Now." When I was told my boss did not joke around, they were not kidding.

As soon as she hung up, I started packing up my stuff. I explained to my Mom about the situation, her shoulders slumped, I knew she really wanted to spend more time with me, but she sighed, nodding her head in understanding.

Walking into the Rolling Stone's office every day still brought me back to my first day here. When I was a twenty-three-year-old naive girl, with a heart full of determination and a head full of ideas.

The elevator doors opened and my eyes fell upon the old Rolling Stone covers hung from the wall, they looked like gold records in a music studio. I walked down the lobby to the reception and asked Ally if my boss was available.

I knocked at her door, patiently waiting for her to invite me in. Three years later and I was still deathly afraid of her.

"Y/n, you are going to interview Harry Styles. You'll leave for LA tomorrow morning, and meet him first thing after landing, hang out with him a couple days, get to know him, this is going to be the cover story. I know music is not your department but right now I really don't have any other option. Do your research all day today, we'll publish the article in next month's issue. It better be good." She clicked her fingers, pointing them at me and then shooed me away from the entrance of her cabin.

"Harry Styles huh," I walked towards my desk remembering all the late-night dance parties I had with Liv and Ashley during college, blasting all of One direction's hits, discussing fan theories and whatnot.

The familiar pull nay yank brought me back to the present, on my office floor, with my colleagues watching over the all too familiar scene.

A smile graced my lips, at this point I had lost the ability to feel shame. I sat down on my desk and pulled at my thread.

“You will pay for this.”

“I am ready when you are, Lovie.”

How was our relationship ever going to work if I was ready to melt any time he called me that.

I knew he was waiting for me to trip him, but I didn't. I would get him when he wouldn't expect it. Not today sir, not today.

I went to start researching on Harry Styles and preparing my questions for tomorrow. A groan escaped my lips as I slammed my forehead on the table, this was not enough time.

Harry Styles was a multi-millionaire, platinum record selling artist with millions of fans. He was portrayed to be this womaniser, who played with people's hearts. But, the first thing I learnt about him during my research was of his kind heart.

I surfed through countless videos of his interactions with fans, clips from his concerts, conversations with paparazzi and not once did I find him in a bad mood or as someone less than the absolute model of perfection. Everybody had bad days, well everyone but Mr.Styles apparently.

As someone only writing about the people in power; the politicians, the stark deviance from my usual subjects was a well-welcomed change.

He was a part of various charities, always preaching about love and kindness. Honestly, I was a little jealous of how lucky his soulmate was, to have someone like him.

After reading possibly everything I could about Harry, I started working on the questions I would ask him. I was determined to know how he managed to be the way he was. How he remained calm even after constantly being harassed by fans and paps alike; How after all these years, he still didn't let the fame get to his head.

I woke up the next morning feeling weird tingles in my stomach, I wasn't able to determine if it was good or bad. I went about my usual routine trying to ignore the tingly feeling. I read through my questions again, I had formed a sort of admiration for Harry (the singer) and I wasn't going to embarrass myself when it mattered the most.

I checked myself in the mirror one last time, feeling good with the outfit I went for- a tan, high-waisted lace-up jumpsuit. My confident outfit seemed like compensation for the nerves running through my body.

My mind wandered to my soulmate for a second, wondering what he must be up to right now. I looked up at myself in the mirror again and saw the smile on my face. Only for you, partner. I shook my head, picked up my suitcase and left for the airport.

The last thing I wanted to do after a six-hour flight was to meet an international celebrity, but I shrugged, a job was a job.

The deli we were supposed to meet at was a quaint place, the two ladies working there were incredibly sweet. They greeted me with the widest smiles and escorted me to a semi-secluded corner when I told them about the purpose of my visit. They doted about Harry, who I concluded was a regular here, calling him 'my love'.

Harry hadn't arrived yet and I was starving, the fragrance of different foods in the deli wafted to my nose, serving as a constant reminder of my hunger. The ladies whose names I had learnt to be Gloria and Raisa noticed my condition and offered to bring me a sandwich, but I declined the offer, not wanting to order before Harry's arrival, considering it to be a bit rude.

But, ever the saviour Harry entered the deli soon after, I admit I released a long breath in relief, I would finally get to order.

Harry's presence was like a force of nature, no one could escape it. I stood up from my seat, without thinking twice as if something compelled me to honour it. I couldn't pry my eyes away from him, and I didn't want to. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion.

Every step of his brought him closer to me, the weird tingles I had been feeling all morning intensified, crawling up to every part of my body. I wanted something, anything to help me ground myself.

My hands frantically searched around for my thread, and as soon as my fingers made contact with the string of fate, the familiar calm washed over me.

Maybe in my frantic state, I pulled the string too hard. I winced, almost closing my eyes as Harry's expression changed into one of panic, his eyes widening as he fell forward. I worried about my Harry as well, realising how hard I must have pulled the thread.

Oh.

OH.

I rushed towards Harry, helping him up. When my hand touched his bicep, a warmth started flooding through my veins, locking eyes with him, I knew he was experiencing the same thing as well.

We both looked down towards our hands and a red string was seen connecting our pinkies. We met each other's eyes again.

"Hi," he gave me a toothy grin. I could die a thousand times for his smile.

"Hello," his eyes, a little sunken, were the most beautiful green I had ever seen, I could spend a lifetime getting lost in them.

"Well since I've already fallen for you, how abou' we go out to eat something. Oh wait, we're already here." His chest was out, and his eyes gleamed at his statement, he was weirdly proud of his jokes.

My entire body shook, I didn't know if I was laughing at his ‘Pick up line' or the situation. I was standing in front of my soulmate, whom I've pined after all my life, only for him to turn out to be Harry fucking Styles.

His brows furrowed in concern as I continued laughing, even he realised his joke was not funny enough to prompt this big of a guffaw.

I took a step back, my hands reaching up to rest on the sides of my face, tears were streaming down my face from laughing too much. Harry's contorted face making me laugh louder. I could not stop.

He reached out his hands and wrapped them around mine. I noted how big his hands were compared to mine, warmer too. "Hey, are you okay?"

I nodded my head, taking deep breaths to calm myself. When I seemed to have a hold on my laugh, another round burst from me. I started shaking again.

At this point, Harry had given up on me and started laughing as well. We were garnering unneeded attention but we couldn't stop. I noticed from the corner of my eyes, Gloria and Raisa were hovering around us protectively, not letting anyone come near us. Angels.

After several minutes or hours, we stopped for good. And even though my stomach was hurting like a bitch, my smile couldn't have been wider.

"So, it's you huh," I started, bringing Harry to my table, "My soulmate heh." My palms were getting sweaty, I tried to subtly wipe them on my pants.

He sat across me, reaching out and grabbing my hands in his again. I changed our hand positions, interlocking my fingers with his. The red string between us lengthening and shortening constantly, conforming to our movements.

He nodded, a smile ever-present on his face. He released a small breath, his shoulders slumped slightly, "I've dreamed of this moment for years. It's good to finally meet you, Lovie."

A weird gurgle-like sound left my mouth. My eyes widened as I covered my mouth, horrified and embarrassed at the same time.

He just looked amused, raising his eyebrows as if to ask me what the fuck was that.

"It's just, it keeps hitting me that this moment is real. That you are here in front of me and you are the Harry Styles-" my eyes continued to dart down to the striking red colour of the thread I was so accustomed to not seeing "-But like you are also just Harry, who I've known all my life."

"I get tha', I do," he nodded fervently, "All my life, I pictured a faceless girl when I imagined a life with you. Now everything seems complete, like the final piece of the puzzle has been placed and I can see my life as a whole picture and I see you with me," he then shrugged his shoulders, wanting to be seen nonchalant.

Hearing him reflect on everything that I've been feeling as well, brought tears in my eyes. He noticed my eyes getting glassy,

"Was it too much too soon?" His fingers were slightly tapping on the table, he kept looking down at our joined hands and biting his lips. My eyes fell to his lips, I hadn't noticed how pink they were.

"No, no, not at all," my hold on his hands tightened as I shook my head, trying to ease his nerves as well.

I went silent for a minute, not sure if I should continue before starting to tap a pattern on the table. One I hoped he would get without having to write it down.

“I love you.”

If the smile on his face were to say anything, it was that he got it. Of course, he would.

Our fingers started to tingle, pulling our attention towards them as we watched the red string starting to disappear.

When it seemed to be fully gone, I traced my hand around the table, checking if I could still feel it, I couldn't. It had really gone away.

I knew this would happen, but it didn't make saying goodbye any easier. Harry brought our hands together again, catching my attention again, "I don't need the string any more, I have you in my arms now." He rested his forehead on mine, breathing slowly.

He then brought my hands up to his lips and pressed a soft kiss on my knuckles. Causing a soft gasp to leave my lips. I swear he would kill me one day.

"I love you too, Lovie."

#Harry Styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #soulmate au #fluff #harry styles fluff #invisible string #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n

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