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#and sweet creature ?? the sweetest love song ever !! you bring me home :)
indigogirled · 3 years
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I adore HS1 and I listen to it all the time, and it makes me a bit sad that Harry went from using the metaphor of ‘Sweet Creature’ and the lyrics in FTDT and SOTT to then go to Fine Line and have him using watermelon as a metaphor for oral sex and hearing the same lyric 5 times over??? like out of Fine Line I only listen to Lights Up, She and Fine Line like consistently because it’s just like HS1 is kinda back
this is my HILL and i’m so glad u brought it up!
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svnflowervol666 · 4 years
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Fried Rice and... Kiwi? (Harry Styles x fem!Reader)
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Word Count: 2.5k
Author’s Note: Happy third birthday to HS1! Here’s something short and sweet in it’s honor. I came across this gif earlier today and all I could think about was lying on Harry’s tummy and listening to him talk about the album. Hence, this fic was born. Obviously, I had to turn it into dad!Harry, because that’s all I can manage to do ever. Like, literally ever. But, regardless! Enjoy, take care, and TPWK. gif by @stylesinthewild​!!!
Three sequential knocks on the weighted, wooden door broke up the playful banter occurring in the studio. It wasn’t a request to enter, more so a signal of arrival and a warning - she was coming in whether they liked it or not. 
“Delivery!”
Smells of grease and soy sauce filled the nostrils of everyone inside as she cautiously maneuvered her way around discarded instruments and cords and towards the coffee table with a both arms full of enough take out to feed a small army.
“God, thank you! You’re the best! Been starvin’ all day,” Jeff piped up from the armchair he’d been sitting in.
“Genuinely! You didn’t have to come all the way across town to bring us dinner,” Sarah added, hair aloof and sticking up around her head as if she’d been running her fingers through it incessantly over the past few hours.
“Well, someone,” Y/N sneered, cutting her eyes back to Jeff, “keeps stealing my man away from me and I’m tired of waiting for him at home, so I figured I’d just pay him a visit here instead.”
“A simple, ‘You’re welcome, Jeff,’ would’ve done ya just fine!” he sarcastically fired back as the rest of the room doubled over in laughter.
Harry was up and out of the cushion he’d been slumped back in to grab the paper bags that were balanced on top of his girlfriend’s arms so he could take her hands in his and guide her towards him.
“Tip your driver?” she cocked her head to the side and pursed her lips down at him when he sat back down.
“Hmmm,” Harry toyed with her comment, pretending to pat down his pockets in search for change, “‘Ve only got my undying love and affection and an endless amount of kisses. Will that do?”
“I suppose,” Y/N huffed, leaning in to press her lips chastely against his.
“Okay, let’s see if I got this right,” she directed her attention back to the group as she fished around the bags of food.
“Beef and broccoli for Mitch?” The long-haired, almost-resembling-jesus brunette smirked and nodded as he leaned over to take the white carton from her hands.
“Kung Po chicken with extra sauce for Sarah,” Y/N stated confidently. She knew that one for certain.
Sarah bowed graciously as she swiped a handful of duck sauce from the bag after taking her order from Y/N.
“Hot and Sour soup for Adam and Jeff.” 
She handed Adam the plastic tub of hot liquid as if she was presenting him a sacred piece of treasure and cast Jeff’s soup away dramatically as if to say she was still fake-mad at him for keeping Harry holed up in the studio for long hours and couldn’t care less if he spilled the damn thing in his lap or not.
“You’re too kind,” Jeff scoffed, earning a pointed middle finger in his direction from Y/N.
“And last but certainly not least,” she grabbed the two remaining cartons by the thin metal handles and presented one to Harry, “Veggies for the boy.”
“Thank you, lovie,” Harry responded earnestly as he grabbed utensils for the both of them, chopsticks for him and a fork for her (he’d tried to teach her more times than he could count to use chopsticks properly but she could never quite get the technique down successfully) and dug into the steaming heap of vegetables packed to the brim of the container.
It was peacefully quiet as everyone chowed down on the takeout Y/N had brought in, everyone coming to the realization of how hungry they’d gotten after spending the entire day writing, composing, and recording an album. Harry and Y/N sat on opposite ends of the couch, her feet resting comfortably in his lap.
“Wha’ did you get?” Harry asked through a mouthful of food.
“Rice.”
Harry frowned.
“Just rice?”
“Wasn’t that hungry,” Y/N shrugged, “Plus, I might have eaten the leftover pizza from the other day right before I came.”
“Still. ‘S not good f’ you. Need t’ be eating better than tha’,” the newly short-haired brunette (Y/N may have shed a tear when he told her he was cutting it) gathered an assortment of sauteed vegetables with his chopsticks before leaning over the couch and dangling it above her lips, waiting for her to open her mouth and accept the bite.
She managed to catch it all, sans a thin strip of onion that she quickly slurped up before it fell and wiped the remaining sauce from the corner of her mouth with her knuckle.
“You two disgust me,” Jeff called out from across the room, a scowl adorning his features.
Harry smiled that obnoxiously cheesy shit-eating grin that he had become infamous for having in his manager’s direction, being sure to push the chewed up broccoli to the front of his teeth to only add to Jeff’s so-called repulsion.
“I think you’re just jealous that the attention’s not on you,” Y/N stated matter-of-factly, “I’m carrying precious cargo. It’s part of the job description now.”
She gave a snide and over-dramatised rub over her swollen belly where hers and Harry’s unborn child was nestled conveniently on top of her organs, making it harder and harder to move around and have any kind of energy as of late.
“If I recall correctly, I’m carrying his career. ‘S pretty precious if you ask me.”
With a roll of her eyes, Y/N plopped her half-eaten side of fried rice onto the table in front of her and shifted her body so that she was lying in Harry’s lap, her head resting perfectly where his thighs met his toned, yet somehow still soft tummy. Harry acclimated to her new position with ease, freeing one his hands so he could pet her hair gently.
“What did you guys work on today?” she asked, her fingers slipping under the hem of Harry’s shirt to absent-mindedly rub the sparse strip of hair that trailed down from his navel and disappeared into the waistband of his boxers that were just barely peaking through the top of his jeans - similar to how he stroked her bump when they cuddle in bed at night.
“Finished up the master for Two Ghosts and added the keys to Woman, but tha’s about it. Started playin’ with another one, but I’m not sure that it’s gonna go anywhere.”
“Yeah? Was it the one you were playing for me the other night?”
Harry shook his head through another bite of his food and swallowed.
“Think we’re gonna do tha’ one next week. We were just messin’ ‘round w’ this one. Doubt I’ll ever go back to it after today.”
“Well, can I at least hear it before you scrap it?”
Harry bit the inside of his cheek and peered around the room, trying to locate the hard drive that held all of their practice runs and demos.
“Did they take the laptop when they left?” he asked.
“Nah, it’s still here. Let me go get it,” Jeff promptly shimmied out of his seat, stuffed to the brim with tofu and bamboo shoots that were mixed into his soup, making him move a bit slower than he had earlier.
Whilst Jeff was digging around in the back room in search of the song Harry was almost certain would get lost deep down in the numerous files of unfinished songs and melodies, Y/N tapped Harry’s stomach with her pointer finger to get his attention and opened her mouth, signaling she wanted another bite of his food. He dropped the veggies into her mouth gingerly, making sure to avoid staining his shirt or accidentally dropping a carrot on Y/N’s nose.
“Thank you for comin’. Missed ye’ all day,” Harry spoke in a whisper so that only Y/N could hear him.
“Missed you too,” she mumbled through her chewing, “She doesn’t move much when you’re gone. Think she misses you more.”
In that moment, he was thankful she wasn’t lying on his chest, because she most certainly would have heard his heart combust and scatter like confetti into his gut at the mention of his sweet baby girl that was set to arrive in a few months time.
“’S she kickin’ right now?”
A wide grin appeared on Y/N’s face and she nodded, taking the chopsticks out of Harry’s hand so she could move it down her waist and press it against the underside of her belly where their daughter was seemingly doing summersaults in the presence of her father. 
It always amazed him, each and every time. How there was a human being growing inside of her and he had a hand in creating her. Although he hadn’t met her just yet, he was postive she was the most precious and sweetest creature he’s ever known.
Bursting the sugary sweet bubble they’d trapped themselves in, Jeff arrived promptly with the laptop tucked under his arm. He brought it to life, skimming the dozens of folders within the drive until he found the one he was looking for. 
“Found it!” he announced to the room.
“Alright, let’s hear it.”
As if it would allow her to hear the song more clearly, Y/N lifted her head from Harry’s lap and sat up beside him instead. She leaned against his shoulder, letting her fingers intertwine with the ones attached to his arm that was pressed against hers.
The beginnings of an electric guitar and Harry’s voice filled her ears, Y/N immediately clocking the sound as something unlike anything he had previewed for her thus far. It was heavier, more akin to the style of an actual rockstar that graced stages across the country in tight pants and ooze sex appeal from every pore in their body (not that Harry didn’t already do that). 
Next, she heard the heavy pounding of drums, to which she gave Sarah a raise of her brow and look of approval for her skill. She had absolutely no explanation for the way this song Harry had been so pertinent about tossing in the trash was making her press her thighs together to mediate the heat rising within, but it was there. The dull, persistent throb that made her wish her and Harry were the only ones in the room so that she could straddle him right there on the couch and have her way with him.
Pregnancy hormones. Yeah, that’s what it was. Well, at least that’s what she was telling herself.
And then she heard the chorus.
I’m having your baby. It’s none of your business.
She cut her eyes to Harry, who was undeniably blushing and had his face buried in his free hand as if he was scared to see her reaction. He was smirking underhead his palm, knowing good and well that she was staring at him as the lyrics repeated themselves over and over and over again. When he finally decided to peak through his fingers, he was met with her wide-eyed and stunned expression, to which he burst into a fit of giggles that shook his belly and made his sides ache. Y/N couldn’t help but join in on the laughter, shaking her head at his bluntness, for lack of a better word. 
The song wasn’t long at all as it was clearly choppy and unfinished and a product of Harry, as he’d said in his own words, messing around with his friends. Sure, it needed some cleaning up and could use a bit more substinance, but it was by no means bad or anything worth chucking in her opinion. It was very much a song written about her, so she felt like she could stand confidently by that opinion.
“Well, shit,” Y/N huffed as the instruments came to an abrupt hault and all that was left of the recording were dwindling laughter and shuffles in the background while whoever was in charge of the sound board moved to cut the microphones, “That gets right to the point. Doesn’t it?”
“That’s what we said,” Sarah managed to get out in between wiping the mascara from under her eyes that ran when she was laughing at her dear friend’s reaction.
“I mean, I don’t think it’s bad at all. Needs some cleaning up, but I think you should keep working on it,” Y/N said honestly, prying Harry’s hand from his face so she could kiss him on the cheek.
“Oh, gee. Thanks. Didn’t know you were on payroll as a producer too,” Jeff called out contemptuously.
“Umm, without me, you wouldn’t have half of this album. Think I can say whatever I want about the matter. Thank you very much.”
Harry pressed his lips together and pointed at her with his fingers shaped like a handgun as if to corroborate what Y/N had just said.
“Yeh actually liked it though?” there was a hint of surprise in his voice.
He hadn’t expected that. He’d expected a smack on the chest or a scold, not praise.
Y/N smiled at the bashful boy beside her, picking a piece of fuzz from the collar of his shirt and flicking it off to the wayside.
“’S gonna have everyone’s panties in a bunch, that’s for sure.”
She picked up Harry’s arm and draped it around her shoulder so she could properly snuggle into his side.
“That damn kiwi,” she said with a playful sigh.
“Pardon?” Harry looked down, bewildered, to see Y/N busying herself by gently poking the taut skin of her tummy in attempt to get their baby to poke her back with her tiny hand or foot, there was really no way of telling which was which.
“That’s when I said that to you,” Y/N yawned, “I was craving kiwi and fuming mad because you ate the last one and when you asked why I was so worked up about it, I told you it’s because I was having your baby, but it wasn’t any of your business.”
The recollection immediately dawned on Harry, making him smack his forehead with a closed fist.
“That’s where that came from! I couldn’t remember what happened, but I’ve always thought that was the funniest thing you’ve ever said t’ me.”
“Ehhh, it’s top ten for sure. Wouldn’t say the funniest, but it’s up there.”
Harry rolled his eyes at her indifference, but he won’t lie and say that it wasn’t one of the things he loved about her the most. How even though she can be the biggest pain in his ass, she always finds a way to bring light into his life and make him smile even it seems next to impossible.
“So yeh think it should stay in the running?”
“Definitely. If I wasn’t already pregnant, I’d beg you to put one in me right here in this studio after hearing it,” she said nonchalantly.
Jeff mocked a gagging noise, “I think I’m genuinely going to hurl.” 
“Oh, be an adult for once in your life, Azoff!” Y/N quipped.
Harry stiffled his laughter into her neck, tickling the tiny hairs that rose to goosebumps with each breath he exhaled onto her skin. 
“I don’t think you understand, Y/N. I hear about you two every damn day in this studio. ‘S just like you said, the whole bloody album is about you two not being able to keep your hands off of each other for five seconds. ‘M surprised it’s taken you this long t’ get knocked up.”
Harry remained tight-lipped, having reduced his giggle fit to a minimum as he watched two of the most important people in his life bicker back and forth like children fighting over a toy. He supposes, in this case, he is the toy in question, but it was entertaining nonetheless.
“Gonna make a damn good album, though. Isn’t it?” Y/N’s haughty smirk answered that question all on its own.
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harrywritingsbyme · 4 years
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Sweet Creature
Based Off Of This Ask
A/N: Heres some more dad!Harry and husband!Harry fluff 🥰 🥰🌸🌸 Enjoy 🙃
Tonight was just one of those nights where Harry couldn’t get to sleep. He didn’t want to wake you up, because he knew how much you needed and deserved your rest. So, he decided to just settle on a cup of tea to help him sleep. Harry had gotten up to make his tea, and on his way back to bed, he decided to pay a visit to his son who he presumed to be fast asleep. Sometimes he liked to sit in the rocking chair next to Jacob’s crib and watch him sleep for a little while. There was a completely different type of calm that came over him whenever he did this. When he walked into the nursery this time, Jacob was anything but asleep. The 9 month old was crawling around in his crib, wide awake. 
“Now I thought mummy and I put you to sleep.” Harry exaggerates in a whisper. As soon as he says this, Jacob immediately stops in his tracks and he turns his head towards his father. His reaction was always like this towards Harry. Ever since you found out that you were pregnant, Harry always talked to Jacob. It didn’t matter if it was through your pregnant belly at any waking moment, or now when he was right in his arms, Harry just loved talking to his son. 
Thanks to the soft glow of the night light that was plugged into the wall, the two of them manage to make eye contact and in response, Jacob lets out a little laugh. Ever since you gave birth you’d become a light sleeper, so you heard this through the baby monitor. But it wasn’t unusual to hear a laugh or two throughout the night, you thought he was just dreaming so you decided to go back to sleep. You had no idea that he was wide awake with his dad. Harry makes his way over to the crib and he sits the mug he had in his hand on the small table next to the chair. He bends down to pick the baby up in his arms, and he sinks down into the padded rocking chair next to the wooden crib before turning on the lamp. “Now why are you up so early this morning?” Harry whispers to the baby, to which he softly coos back in response. “As much as I want to hang out with yeh’ I have to get back to mummy. I should have been back by now, and I think she’s waiting for me.” Harry explains, as if the little boy could understand what he was saying.
As Harry was sitting there rocking back and forth, he couldn’t help but admire the tiny human in his arms. As he took in all of his soft features, he noticed how much he resembled you. Sure Jacob had his fathers curls and soft pink heart shaped lips, but the rest was all you. From the big brown doe eyes that were staring up at him, to his nose (which Harry couldn’t get enough of on you both), all he saw was you. Just about every parent wanted their child to be a carbon copy of them. But he loved and looked forward to looking down and seeing your features more than anything. For Harry, the craziest thing happened when he became a dad. When he became a dad, loving his son so much made him completely fall in love with you over and over again. Harry’s then broken out of his thoughts when he hears a soft yawn leave Jacob’s mouth. 
“Y’tired of me now?” Harry chuckles. The now sleepy baby in his arms begins to nestle into the cook of Harry’s arm to get comfortable. “I guess that’s my queue to go to bed too huh?” Harry continues, smiling down at the baby. He eases himself out of the rocking chair and he begins to sway back and forth around the room.
“Sweet creature, had another talk about where it’s going wrong, but we’re still young, we don’t know where we’re going but we know where we belong…” Harry begins to sing. 
That’s when you woke up. 
The monitor didn’t pick up on him talking before, but as he was moving around the room, the monitor was able to catch his voice as he was singing. When you heard Harry’s voice resonating through the speaker, your ears instantly perked up to listen. When everything else failed to get your son to simmer down, both you and Harry turned to his voice. To put it simply, Jacob loved Harry’s voice. He loved it so much that it didn’t matter if you were singing one of Harry’s songs, Jacob always wanted to hear it from Harry. One time you even had to call Harry so that he could console the baby through the phone. Sometimes when Jacob woke up in the middle of the night, Harry would go into the nursery and calm him down by singing to him. And every time he did, you’d sit up against the headboard and you’d just listen to him sing. You loved the smooth sound of his voice, along with the raspiness that came with it being in the middle of the night. Not to mention the fact that he was singing to your guys’ son. All of it without a doubt made your heart melt. 
You decide to get up and take a trip down to the nursery to see this father son moment in action. You push your feet into your slippers and you quietly make your way down to your sons nursery. Instead of going all of the way in you lean against the doorframe, watching the two of them together. It didn’t take long for the tears to come up to your eyes. You couldn’t believe how lucky you were. You had no idea what you did to deserve such an amazing husband, and a beautiful baby boy. Harry was the most amazing dad and husband. He loved you and Jacob more than he’d ever thought he could love someone. And your son was a gift you’d never stop thanking your lucky stars for. At first, you were a little unsure about having children. You weren’t completely sure about how your life would change and you were terrified at the thought of being a mother. But after your son was born, it was like all of your fears and anxieties disappeared. Yes you were still anxious about being the best mother you could be to your little boy, but you loved him more than you could imagine. He brought something to your life that made you feel complete. All you would ever need in life is standing right in the room in front of you.
As Harry was walking around the room, singing and rocking Jacob to sleep, he caught a glimpse of the doorway to find you leaning against it, gazing into the room. 
“Hey” Harry stops singing, catching your attention. When you look up to meet his eyes, he could see that they were glossed over. So he opens up his free arm, inviting you to join him and Jacob. You push yourself off of the door frame and you make your way over to Harry. You wrap your arms around his slender waist, and you rest your head against the side of his chest. He wraps his arm around you, pulling you tight against him before he begins to sing again. 
“…I know we started, two hearts in one home. I know it’s hard, we argue, we’re both stubborn, I know. But oh, sweet creature, sweet creature. When I run out of road, you bring me home…” while Harry was singing this time you couldn’t help but notice the way Jacob was peacefully laying against his father. He looked like the sweetest creature you’d ever seen. His eyes were closed and a little smile was on his face. 
Whenever Harry sang to him he always had the most adorable smile on his face. The three of you stay like this for a little while longer, making sure that Jacob was fast asleep. 
“M’gonna put him down now.” Harry whispers to you. He pulls away from you and he gently lowers the baby back into his crib. He makes sure that he’s still sleeping before sitting back down in the rocking chair. He opens his arms for you with a small, tired smile on his face and you come right over to him. You sit in his lap and he tightly wraps his arms around you and continues singing. 
“I know when we started, with two hearts in one home. It gets harder when we argue, we’re both stubborn, I know. But oh, sweet creature, sweet creature wherever I go, you bring me home. Sweet creature, sweet creature, when I run out of road you bring me home. You bring me home” he sings softly in your ear. 
When Harry had written and when you first listened to Sweet Creature, the both of you resolved in your minds that it was exactly how you both felt about each other. But as time went on and you guys got married and now having a small family of your own, the significance of this song changed for you two. It didn’t exclusively describe your feelings for each other. It encapsulated all of the feelings you not only had for each other, but your small and growing family. The ’Sweet Creature’ wasn’t just you and Harry. It was you, Harry, Jacob, and the son or daughter you and Harry would be bringing into the world in the future. The ‘Sweet Creature’ was the love that you and Harry had for every last person in this room.
 Masterlist
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Text
Cold
Chapter Four, 1464 words
Summary: Loki tells his family about his prince (fic below the cut)
The setting sun cast warm light through the stained glass as Asmund and Loki sat with their legs entwined on their window seat, Loki gazing at the prince as he read with a peaceful expression on his face. He felt a faint ache in his cheeks from how much he’d been smiling all day. Any day spent with Asmund was a day well-spent. The prince glanced up from his book, catching the god’s eyes.
“What’s the smile for?” he asked, a light tone dancing through his voice. Loki rested his cheek against his hand, winking at Asmund.
“Just admiring the view, dear.” Asmund smiled back, moving over to kiss Loki gently, resting their foreheads against one another.
“As am I. And I must say, it’s becoming my favorite view.” The god’s mind went fuzzy as he stumbled to reply. Asmund shifted in his seat, leaning into Loki’s chest before turning back to his book with a self-satisfied smile. With the warm weight against him, the god rested his head on top of Asmund’s soft golden curls, reading the prince’s book on insects in a comfortable silence. The birds sang outside the window, flittering from one tree to the next as the princes smiled to themselves.
“Would you teach me Asgardian?” Asmund interrupted the silence, looking up at Loki with sweet eyes that reminded him of shining brown diamonds.
“Of course, dearest. I shall bring you the finest books on Asgard and-” Asgard. Loki’s head shot up, startling Asmund.
“Is something the matter, dear?”
“I have dinner with my parents this evening, and it completely slipped my mind. I’m so sorry to leave you, dearest one,” Loki explained as he stood, offering a hand to help Asmund up. Warmth spread from his fingers when the prince accepted. He traced circles on the back of Asmund’s hand, connecting the faint freckles. “I’ve truly had a lovely day with you today. Shall we meet again soon?”
Asmund’s dark eyes twinkled warmly like the stars Loki had enchanted for him, a smile on his lips. Standing on his tiptoes, he kissed the god’s cheek. “As soon as you can return, my starshine.” Loki dazedly held a hand up to where Asmund’s lips had been, the skin tingling like he’d stood too close to a fire. His family wouldn’t mind him being a few seconds late to kiss Asmund back. More than a few seconds, actually.
His blissful smile hadn’t faded all the way to the Bifrost site, nor did it as he arrived home. As he waltzed into the dining hall, Loki hummed a song to himself that he faintly remembered as a love song. At the sound of him entering, his family glanced up, staring quizzically at the usually stoic prince. Frigga raised her eyebrow as he sat.
“What has you in such a good mood, dear?” his mother asked. “You haven’t sung in quite a while.”
“Ah, well, Mother, it technically is humming,” he laughed at his own joke, awkwardly clearing his throat at the silence. “I, er, have some good news, actually.”
Thor laughed, grinning widely at the black-haired prince. “Did you finally spot that yellow butterfly from your book, brother?” Loki glared at his older brother, his smile fading slightly.
“No, actually,” he took a deep breath before continuing, feeling his nerves bubbling. “I’ve met someone. Romantically, I mean.” At the head of the table, Odin choked on his drink, coughing loudly. Loki crossed his arms, shrinking into his chair. “I hardly think it’s that bad, Father.” An uncomfortable air descended over the long table.
Frigga shot her husband a look before smiling at her youngest son, her hand reaching out. “It’s not bad at all, Loki. Do we know them?” He sat up a little more in his seat. Oh, Norns, talking about Asmund was something he could do for hours and hours.
“You wouldn’t know about him, Mother, but he’s positively wonderful! His name is Asmund and he has the sweetest-”
“Is he nobility this time?”
Loki rolled his eyes, biting his lip in annoyance. The warmth in his chest he’d felt from kissing Asmund had all but been extinguished. “Yes, Father. Since it is so important to you I court the right person, he’s a prince.”
Thor looked up from his goblet. He gave his brother a supportive grin across the table. “A prince? Good job, brother! What realm is he from?”
Loki smiled again, fainter this time. “Midgard. He has the most beautiful castle bordering a for-”
“Midgard? You’re courting a mortal?” Odin asked, his gold fork practically bending in his fist. Loki’s head snapped to face him, his green eyes glowing angrily.
“Yes, Father, he is mortal. Can I ever finish a full sentence in this family?” Loki muttered, glaring at the king. His food sat entirely untouched in front of him.
“This is beneath you, Loki,” Odin said, in a tone that stated clearly he didn’t want to be argued with. Loki decided to disregard that entirely. Asmund was in no way lesser than him, not in intelligence, nor status, and certainly not appearance.
“I need not defend my partner to you,” Loki snapped icily, glaring daggers at his father. Frigga held a hand up, the gold bracelets on her wrists clinking softly.
“Both of you, calm down,” she ordered. Thor stared awkwardly at his half-empty plate. Loki almost felt bad for his brother; putting up with this family could be a true nightmare.
“I am calm, Frigga. I’m simply stating our son should not waste his time on this mortal creature,” Odin said, the last straw for the prince. Loki shot from his seat, a wave of green magic exploding from his hands. Behind him, his chair smashed into the wall with a massive crash. The room went completely silent.
“Asmund is not a waste of time, and he is not a creature, Father!” he spat, before storming out of the dining hall with emerald waves cascading angrily around his arms. Faintly, he heard his mother and brother calling after him. So much for his perfect mood.
Loki’s door slammed open, several books falling from their oak shelves. A fire crackled in the hearth, but the sound only annoyed him. With another wave of green energy, his door slammed shut behind him. He clenched and unclenched a fist, trying to calm himself. Loki missed Asmund already. In the back of his mind, he knew it had only been a few hours since they’d parted, but all he wanted was the comfortable warmth of the prince’s head against his chest as they read together. It had been the happiest Loki had felt in ages.
He laid down on his bed, staring at the ceiling. Intricate runes stared back down at him. His temper had begun to cool, and with it, the glow surrounding him. Loki sighed, fiddling with the fabric of his blanket. At least his mother and Thor had been somewhat supportive of him and Asmund.
A knock came at his door. Loki groaned, holding a hand over his eyes. “I’m not in the mood, brother. Leave me alone.” The door creaked open, quiet footsteps echoing off the walls.
“Good thing I’m not Thor,” his mother replied with a smile in her voice. “I brought you some tea and a little something to eat, dear.” Loki removed the hand from his face, watching as his mother sat at the foot of his bed. She placed a tray with a porcelain teapot next to her. He sat up, curling his legs close to his body.
“Would you like to talk to me, Loki?” she asked, offering him a floral-painted teacup full of rosehip tea.
“I don’t know what there is to talk about,” he mumbled, taking a sip. It always reminded him of sitting in the gardens with his brother as a child, watching with wide eyes as their mother showed them how to cast spells.
“Why not tell me about your prince? I bet that he is wonderful,” Frigga offered with a smile as she lifted her own teacup. Loki looked up, resting his cup in his saucer with a clink of the porcelain.
“Are you sure? Father didn’t seem exactly thrilled about him…”
His mother’s eyes sparkled. “I’m not your father, am I?” Loki chuckled softly, staring at his cup.
“No, you’re not. I think you would love him, Mother. He is so intelligent, and has the most magnificent library with hundreds of books. And he has this incredibly warm smile that shines brighter than the sun,” Loki rambled, his smile slowly returning. “And he’s so kind to me. He treats me like someone worthwhile, like I hold the world.”
“He sounds perfect for you, dear. I look forward to meeting him, whenever you’re ready.”
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the-fiction-witch · 3 years
Text
Darlin’
TV SHOW GODLESS COUPLE: WHITEY WINN X READER RATING: SWEET + SEXY + SAD
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The sweet as sugar voice across the town.
The cluttering of horse shoes on the dirt.
The flutterin' of Blue cotton in the wind.
The whine of Violin strings.
The snap of bow strings.
Her little songs sung in the darkness.
The smell of her desert flowers in the garden.
The smell of sage and other herbs.
The smell Her Quail roast.
She'd shoot it in the mornin', have it plucked and cleaned before I went to work, it would roast all day and be just finished when I got home.
Her knitting needles set on every surface.
Her ribbons tied around things she would use often.
I can recall, the first moment I saw her.
She was the sweetest thing I had ever known.
She was dancin', not old enough to go in the La Belle bar, so she stood out in the dirt of the road, dancing to the music ya could hear blaring from within. Her black riding boots against the dust, stockings full of holes, her little blue cotton dress dirty around the edge, her white slightly greyed apron with two pockets either side of her skirt. she had sewn daises on the pockets, and ivy leaves across the top and skirt, A Large Bow tied her apron at the back. she had her sweet almost Y/h/c hair in curls that bounced on her shoulders as she danced, she had ribbons in her hair, bright white ribbons that kept her curls somewhat controlled a bow at the back of her head like her apron strings.
And I remember thinkin', That she was the most beautiful girl in the world.
After many weeks of nervousness and a little poking from Mary Agnes, I finally spoke to her and the moment I did... I loved her.
"Hello" she smiled
"Hi, uhhh I umm hi" I blushed
Her name was y/n.
only Two years younger then me, but you'd never tell.
she was mature for her age, more so when I was.
She was the sweetest little thing I had ever met.
She wouldn't hurt a fly and even if she did she would make sure they wouldn't suffer.
We would go on little dates after I was done in the office, walking around town.
We would go for picnics on the hill.
We would go riding down to the river together.
We'd race our horses across the open desert.
I would take her down to the river and teach her trick shots with my guns, and she'd show me tricks with her bow and arrows.
We would sometimes kiss cuddled up in the hay of the stables.
"Ummmmm uummmmmm" I groaned slightly my arms around her waist as we laid in the stables sat up on a huge pile of hay, her arms around my neck as we kissed I pulled her closer and closer as we kissed the two of us at times literally having a roll in the hay
"whitey!" she gasped "what are you doing with your hands up my dress?" she argued noticing my hands half way up her skirt
"Uhhhh.... fixing your stockings" I lied
"Course you where" she giggled pulling me back to kissing her.
I loved her, more then words could explain.
by some magic she loved me too,
We where married in the half finished church one sunny Saturday in June,  
she was the most perfect wife I could ever dream of,
she would come visit me at work and bring me cookies she would bake for me.
She would have a nice toasty warm bath waiting for me when I got home from work,
Dinner would be cooking on the stove ready for as soon as I was done with my bath,
and a cuddle after dinner in our bed together until we fall asleep.
she was my darlin', My sweet wifey, My angel.
I'd do anything she asked of me,
I'd worship her, adore her, in all the little ways I could.
giving her kisses,
holding her hand,
telling her at any time I could get out the words that I loved her.
I sat one night watching her as she sat on the bed knitting, in her little white nightie, ribbons still in her hair where she hadn't untied them yet. she sat up against the headboard, the blankets tucks up tight to her body, I sat on the chair by the fire watching the candlelight flicker across her sweet face as she worked, her tongue slightly sticking out her mouth slightly as she worked.
"You're staring Mr winn" she smiled playfully looking up at me
"Am I now?"
"It's rude"
"Is it now?"
"Is there something you wanted?"
"... You are the most beautiful creature in the world"
"So you say whitey, I rather think your going blind like bill"
"I'm not goin' blind y/n, I think you're beautiful"
"well, That's your opinion"
"It is, Darlin'?"
"Yes whitey?"
"Ya know what I want?"
"A Million dollars I suppose" she smiled as she knits making me laugh
"No," I smiled "A little curly Y/c/h girl"
"Would you now?" she smiled and I nodded "Then I shall do my very best"
I finished up at work today, getting my jacket from the hook by the door I slipped it on as I headed out the office going down the little steps and though the dirt and dust of the streets heading back to the little house, as soon as I got close enough to smell the sweet plants in the garden, the door opened and little Eliza ran out the house in her little light blue dress her sweet y/h/c curls bouncing as she ran "Daddy!" she giggled as she jumped into my arms
"Hey little one" I smiled putting her on my hip giving her head a kiss fixing her little ribbons
"I missed you daddy"
"I missed you too little one" I told her heading inside the house, I went in and the moment I did Arthur latched onto my leg "Oh. Hey little guy," I laughed patting his hair, putting Eliza down
"They missed there daddy" Maggie says as she fiddled with her gun
"Yeah, I missed them too" I smiled letting them run off and play
"How you doing?"
"Uhh... yeah. Okay" I lied "I uhh I'm sorry Maggie I uhh I need to go see y/n" I told her
"Go on, I'll keep an eye on them for you" she says
I nodded and headed back out taking my horse and heading down towards the river where the tree was growing. I climbed off my horse tying it up by the river and going over to the tree "Hi darlin', I can't help thinking about ya, whenever I'm on my own I just... I feel like I can't help thinkin' about ya, sometimes when I'm all on my own I swear your still with me,... I miss everythin' about you, all the little things you used to do, I missed your food, your voice, your perfume, everythin', I adore our little ones darlin' but....... Sometimes I wish I had you instead of them." I sniffled moving and brushing some dust and dirt off her stone
'Y/n Winn, Beloved Wife and mother,'
"Not a night goes by I don't dream about ya y/n. My sweet darlin'. Arthur's doing well at school, Kallie says he's the best in his class, Eliza misses you, she's always following me to work and all. I don't think she likes being on her own too long, even though she has her brother. I can't help missing ya when I see them, Eliza... she's, she looks just like you, she even ties her ribbons the same way you used to." I explained to her moving and resting my head on her stone "I... I'd give anythin' to have ya back darlin'"
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lightdanced · 4 years
Text
The Heart Of The Sea.
A Mermaid!Nadian AU.
Word Count: 1029
The sea is stormy as the empyrean weep and weep. The sea’s maw threatens to swallow the world whole. Among its home, there is ship. Wood groans, creaks, and cries. Water crashes down, down against the ship’s deck, again and again. The people cry, the people howl. Crimson billows across the stormy sea. Sea creatures of beautiful and ethereal women linger far, far below.
They have sharp, sharp teeth to tear apart flesh—to find love in carnage, in dying hearts when they are torn from their home; of rib cages torn apart, for flesh to be dug out for their lovely prize.
Mermaids do not have hearts.
It is a tale as old as time, that mermaids do not have hearts for they eat the hearts of men. They consume and consume such a fleshy thing, for the hope of feeling something. Or they steal their hearts, to tear apart their own rib cage; to give themselves a gift of a heart.
A pirate, beautiful and fiery in the damp red locks covering a covered eye—lingers among chaos. Water sprays and spits. A quiet grief settles on his chest, heavy and disgustingly strong.
Julian’s people are dying. Drowning or being torn apart among the insatiable desire of the mermaids, to feel something. He cannot find his sister. Pasha, his sweet Pasha, could not be found. The Captain cries that she is dead, fallen among the stormy sea.
He cannot focus, for singing fills the air. It is the only sound consuming besides the sea’s raging, and the grunts of those who struggle across the deck.
Such beautiful singing that is far, far better than the greatest bard’s, who they had captured in the cells below. The bard was surely was dying, dying like this world. 
He follows the voice; so high and sweet. It promises peace, it promises freedom. It is the dawn breaking among darkness, in the brilliance of gold and pink.
He finds her.
A tail of dusk; scales of red fading into purple, then into darkness, swaying with the raging storm. A woman, golden and brown, lingering by a rowboat. Her dark purple lips part again and again, exposing sharp rows of teeth as she sings and sings.
Julian drops to a knee, arms resting against the wooden edge of the dinghy. His gaze is almost, almost fond among these peaceful moments.  The sun is forgotten behind darkening clouds. The little light birthed, illuminates the creature of the sea.
He thinks he is grasping his boyhood again. As a little child, he could only dream of such tales of such vivid beauty. Pasha always whispered how wonderful it would be to fall in love with a mermaid, to live forever among the sea.
“You look like her.” the mermaid says, her melody ending; her gaze is cold, cold as the depths of the sea. It is just as red as the blood of Julian’s crew mates—red as the plague beetles scuttling over the previous Captain’s body, among the belly of the ship. “She calls herself Pasha, before she became one of us.”
Julian swallows nothing, gaze wide as the moon and wild. He cannot help but to lean, lean in. He reaches, for fingers to curl into purple locks.
“What about me?” his voice is hoarse, and his throat is raw from his own howls. Time has stretched into eons. He does not know how this dawn has lasted for days and days, this nightmare twisting into eternity.  He remembers how to be wild, among these moments. Her beauty chokes him. He could choke on his own words, his tongue yearning to speak of the forbidden.
Nadia smiles a wide smile; sharp teeth exposed in her lips stretching from cheek to cheek. Her laughter is harsh and sweet, all at once. She swims closer, closer—for her arms to curl around his neck.
“Give me your heart,” she whispers. “Give me your all. I will not leave you wanting.”
He relents.
She tastes like the salt of tears, she tastes like heaven—she tastes like wine, when her lips seek his.
He cannot ever recall feeling so cold when he sinks into the watery depths of the sea. She drags him down, down to the sandy seabed. His spine breaks underneath guilt, as his body cracks and twists into an abomination.
This is the sweetest death, he thinks, as he screams to the fathomless abyss of the sea; water filling lungs. The mermaid, beautiful as the dusk in purple hair and scales, kisses and kisses his pain away as a clawed hand sinks into his chest.
She tears herself apart as within the cavern of her chest; she rests her prize. Half of his heart. She bleeds and bleeds, as the sea knits flesh back together. She smiles and smiles when she releases her grasp on him. She drifts around him, slowly as she sings and sings her song of adoration.
She watches how he writhes, how he twitches, how he screams his strangled screams among her home.
He breathes eventually when gills bloom and form upon his neck. Legs are no longer legs but a tail of black scales. She kisses him again when he ceases his screams.
“One of us, one of us,” she sings, among the deafening pull of the sea.
She carries his burden, of a heavy heart. It is an ugly thing, his heart. It feels too much, too quickly. Guilt of far too many things plague it.
He feels how his heart beats and beats when a hand seeks to rest upon her chest.
“Mine?” his whispers are hushed.
“Yours,” she says with gentle laugh. She feels so, so full. She did not have to bring him to death’s grasp, for death to choke and choke for a heart. Half of a heart was enough. “You have a beautiful heart. Much pleased am I, that I did not eat it.”
How rare, how wonderful was it to feel your own heart in another’s body.
The sea is stormy, the sea is everything. It seemed only right that he drowned, to be born anew among his home.
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thatmultifandomhoe · 4 years
Text
The Extremely Large Tag Game
ATagged By: @dreamystuffers​ thank you sweet pea and HOLY SHIT THIS REALLY IS THE ULTIMATE TAG GAME BUT I AM READY.
SECTION ONE: First and last tag: post the first line of a wip as well as the last line you’ve written so far!
So I have several Wips at the moment and whelp, I’m gonna do them all lol.
The Size of a Heart: Wonho and Reader (Drabble)
First Line Written: The sky was burning as the sun set for the night, cloaking the city in its familiar darkness.
Last Line Written: “I tell myself that it’s better if it hurts, but I…I can’t anymore…I can’t.”
Tentatively Falling: Vampire Jongdae and Reader (Series)
First Line Written: Strobe lights flashed around the dark bar, drawing your attention every now and then when they went wild as the bass dropped.
Last Line Written: It was more than you ever thought, but it was exactly what you dreamt about hearing him say.
Heavenly Father: Boyfriend Yoongi, Priest Jimin, Alter boy Jungkook, and Reader (Smut Crack Drabble - Title May Change)
First Line Written: The stain glass windows in the Church were a sight to see during the day, the sunlight streaming through and bringing life to the images during the service, and brought a sense of comforting to those during times of trouble.
Last Line Written: Jimin groaned and your eyes watered when your nose was pressed against the base, his dick down your throat.
Knitting You a Home: Wolf Hybrid Namjoon and Reader (Series)
First Line Written: The wind howled while rain pelted your house as the storm refused to let up.
Last Line Written: For the moment, his thoughts were cleared, allowing him to fall asleep with you safely in his arms.
SECTION TWO. Enter 15 of your biases and put them in this order to discover the story of your life
Parent: Hongjoong
well I mean he is pretty daddy at times
Sibling: Jongdae
Grandparent: Sammy
Haunts you: Vernon
Significant other: Jooheon
HELL YEAH BITCHES
Ex: Yuta
damn that’s...that’s a change
Best friend: Chanyeol
Proposed to you: Yoongi
Was this before Jooheon or after Jooheon? Who’s my ass with?
Your boss: Taeyong
Random person you meet a the bar: Seonghwa
Rival: Bang Chan
BUT HE’S THE SWEETEST HUMAN BEING THO
First kiss: Namjoon
Drunk and singing karaoke with: Wonho
Played seven minutes in heaven with: Felix
Gave you your favorite dessert: Jackson
I...I can see this one. He’s sweet to do that
SECTION THREE. Describe your bias by their vibes as if they were someone in your life. (I’m doing my Ults, 1 from each group.)
Jongdae (EXO): The guy that everyone knows because he’s the one with that distinguishable laugh. The class clown that knows the limits and only crosses them on rare occasions. You think you know him but then he’ll say something that you never knew about him. Craves his independence but is the quiet one when in a large group, smiling as he watches the more energetic ones run about. An old soul trapped in a young body.
Yoongi (BTS): The one who devotes himself to his work and rarely sees the light of day. His room is littered with empty to go cups of coffee mixed with his own assortment of coffee mugs Coffee ring stains on furniture. You think he’s not listening or paying attention but when you least expect it, he’ll quietly do something or hand you a gift that he knows you treasure. He’ll never ask for cuddles, but he’ll always give them to you and refuse to let you go when you try to get up. Wise beyond his years because he’s suffered and doesn’t wish it on anyone else.
Yuta (NCT): The popular guy that at first everyone warns you about, but once you get to know him yourself, you don’t know why they warned you in the first place because he’s a total sweetheart. The guy who flirts with everyone and anyone, but remains loyal to his girl. He’s never without his iced coffee, and he’s dyeing his hair in the bathtub with a friend to help make sure it doesn’t go too wrong. Will entertain your drunk texts. He’s the one to text at 2 am when you’re feeling alone and down and he’ll do what he can to lift you back up with nothing but the truth.
Hongjoong (Ateez): He’s the guy who doesn’t give a shit about trends or styles, he creates his own. The guy who does the piercings at the local tattoo shop knows him by name because he’s gotten so many of his piercings done there. He is the Fashion DIY King. Will roast his friends the hardest  because he loves them the most and takes it when they dish it back. Somehow manages to rock hairstyles - long live the mullet - that no one thought should have ever existed. Don’t let him cook though. If he cooks you’ll end up with food poisoning. He’s the one who will let you try makeup tricks and new products on him. Secretly amazing at painting nails.
Wonho (Monsta X): He’s the guy friend that you never expected to be friends with. Him? You? Total opposites on a physical scale. On completely different levels. Once you get to know him, he’s a total teddy bear. Doesn’t question it when you suddenly appear and hug him without saying a word, he’ll simply hug you back while maintaining the conversation he had going. Or he’ll simply surprise you with a hug because he likes them.
Bang Chan (Stray Kids): He’s the one that always has his earbuds in even during class. Like he’s the guy that has the earbud going through the sleeve of his hoodie and is pressing his palm against his ear to listen to the music. Listens to everyone, even if he doesn’t know them that well and gives really good advice if they ask for it.
Jackson (Got7): The guy that you can hear a mile away. Hyper. Can’t sit still to save his life. He was the guy that you’d see doing laps in the hallway with his friends when he should have been in class, but he was the nice one. Passionate and when you ask him about what he’s working on, he’ll talk about it for hours. Will also apologize multiple times for going on but then continue to go on.
SECTION FOUR. Search your name + “core aesthetic” on Pinterest and make yourself a moodboard
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SECTION FIVE. Make a normal and fantasy version of yourself using this !
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SECTION SIX. Writing tag game!
What is your ideal setting for focusing on your writing?
A quiet office where I can play music softly in the background and be at a desk with a comfortable chair.
 What Genre do you prefer to write?
Slice of Life, Young Adult, College Age.
Do you prefer to write on paper or digitally?
Both.
It’s the middle of the night and you suddenly wake up with an idea. What do you do?
Make a note of it in either my notebook or in the notes section on my phone.
Who is your favorite person to write about?
Jimin and Hoseok
Do you like making your own characters, or do you usually write about real people?
I like to do both. Honestly, it’s kinda like a mix of both. With some of my fics, the only thing that makes them fanfics are that I’m using the real person’s name, and I’ll pin point on certain aspects of their physical features. In Brotið Hjarta, the only thing that connects to it being Namjoon is his name, and maybe his hair style/color and ear piercings, everything else was what I imagined it to be.
Have you ever written a book/story with more than 15 chapters (100K words)?
Yes. Strawberry Cream and BBQ
How often do you get ideas?
From everyday life, sometimes I’ll be daydreaming and it kinda morphs into a story or a fanfic and so I’ll make notes so that I don’t forget it.
Do you ever get an idea that you really like, but just can’t seem to finish?
Yessss, all the time.
What is your least favorite plot?
I don’t know about least favorite plots, but I do hate it when fics dive straight into a story without any background or anything. Wait, so maybe that’s pwp fics????? I don’t want to be a hypocrite, but even with my fics that primarily focus on smut, I still add in those background details and give them a teeny tiny plot.
SECTION SEVEN. Put your music on shuffle and reveal the first ten songs that come on.
The Kids Aren’t Alright - Fall out Boy
In the Dark - Bring Me the Horizon
Teeth - 5 Seconds of Summer
All In - Monsta X
To the Beat - Ateez
Shot - Lil’ Jon
Daechwita - Agust D
Treasure - Ateez
Adore You - Harry Styles
Guys My Age - Hey Violet
SECTION EIGHT. Questions tag:
Relationships: 2
Break-ups: 2
Kids: Right now? 0
Brothers and Sisters: 1 older brother.
Pets: 0
Surgeries: 0
Tattoos: 0
Countries you’ve been to: 0
Been in an airplane: yes
Been in an ambulance: yes
I sing karaoke: hell no.
Ice skating: I like it but I suck at it and have only been able to go during school events in the past.
Been on a cruise: hell no
Driven a motorcycle: nope
Ridden a horse: yes
Stayed in a hospital: nope
Favorite fruit or berry: Raspberries
Favorite color: Magenta
Last text: “Perfect! I’ll let you know when I am able to send yours out!” - I do pen palling and was letting someone know when I could send them a post card in exchange for the one I’m getting.
Cat or dog: Cat
Favorite pizza: White sauce pizza with chicken and feta cheese
Met a star: nope
Flown a helicopter: nada
Been on TV: nope
Broken my leg: nope
Seen a ghost: don’t believe in them.
Been sick in a taxi: nope
Seen someone die: no
SECTION NINE: Fifteen questions tag:
One ; it’s your birthday! what did you ask for?
Gift cards, um...(this is bad because my birthday is actually coming up) maybe some things from my Amazon list?
Two ; what was the last song / album you listened to?
WAP by Cardi B
Three ; what is your go to snack when you’re hungry?
Chocolate, cookies or cookies dipped in peanut butter
Four ; what is your morning routine?
Wake up, check messages on my phone while still in bed, get up, make coffee, maybe eat breakfast, drink coffee in bed, listen to music/watch videos or read on phone while drinking coffee, get dressed, brush teeth and skincare routine, make bed.
Five ; what mythical creature would you be?
An Elf? Or a Forest Witch. Something that has to do with the Earth and nature.
Six ; how do you interact with someone you don’t like?
I give short and straight to the point answers, if I’m working on something and they come up to me I’ll pointedly focus on that task instead of them.
Seven ; how do you define a toxic person?
Someone who lies, who makes you feel bad about the things that you do, that puts you done while lifting themselves, who is constantly bragging about their own things, who puts down others, who acts like they’re better, who acts like they’re way of life should be the only way of life.
Eight ; have you ever been to a concert or a fan-meet? if not, would you want to?
I have not, but I would like to one day because they seem fun and it would be nice to see a performance in person.
Nine ; do you believe in astrology? why or why not?
I do, mostly because it’s fun and interesting and I tend to find that I do a lot of the things and act like my zodiac sign without realizing it (aka I’m a Virgo).
Ten ; if you could have only one sense (hearing, touch, sight, etc.), which would you keep?
Hearing.
Eleven ; who is your favorite celebrity or idol?
At the moment, BM from Kard.
Twelve ; if you could talk to your favorite celebrity for a limited time, what would you tell them?
How do you keep going when it gets hard?
Thirteen ; I’m taking you out on a date. where are we going?
Maybe an art museum, or somewhere with flowers?
Fourteen ; do you prefer sweet or savory?
Sweet.
Fifteen ; do you have any Merch from any of your favorite artists?
I have several BTS albums and an EXO album.
I AM Tagging: @mygsii @myforeverforlife  @peonybane  @hobicomeholla29  @loser-dot-com @jeonsdear @namsjoon  @kpopcinnamonswirlroll @eashmo201 @1997jk @soulofatiny @cherryeoo​ @minniepetals​ @minniesmarshmallow​ @yoongi-sugaglider​  @crystaljins​ @taestfully​  @hyyunjins​ @i-am-delaney​ @worldwidebt7​ @flurrys-creativity​  @apurpledheart​ @holyfluffly​ @yunception​ @boymeetsweevil​ @chans-chair​ @brokecollegenerd​ @jinyoungsir​ @writersrealmbts​ @kpophoneybunny​ @actuallythatwaspromise​  @ladyartemesia​ @haylo4ever​ @ggukcangetit​ @kpopfanfictrash​ @wwilloww​ @jingabitch​ @kigurumu​ @jamaiskook​ @thatlongspringnight​ @ot7always-main​  @hauntedlilies​ @koophoriia​ @lorealchanelll​ @sweetheart--sannie​  @sweetae-tae​ @iniquitouspoppy​  
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warriorteam1924 · 4 years
Text
Tag game time !!
I’ve been tagged by the sweetest Sheamus aka @doctorqueensanatomy on this one. (love, whenever you want me to sing to you, just let me know ^^ ahahaah lol) 
Answer 10 questions and then supply 10 for those you tag! 
1.Stunned clothes or sparkly/shimmery
I would go for sparky/shimmery cause i love glitters in general
2. Is there any aesthetic you fall into and if so what is it and how is it implemented in life?
Humm this is really hard. I think i would go for the stars. The sight during the night is so amazing and it always reminds me of how small we are in this universe.
3. what is your favorite genre of rock if any ? (Psychedelic, glam, hard rock, etc)
Ah regarding rock i would definitely go for Queen ahaha 
4.Have you ever written or said something that made you think “holy shit i could win an academy award with that” ? 
Omg it happens all the time ahahah lol…. To be honest i would love to share but many of the puns or jokes or sentences are in french and it is impossible to translate it wouldnt make sense…. 
5. How tall are you and how does that compare to your family and friends?
Im 170cm tall. To give you an idea my sis calls me hobbit since im the smallest of the family…. As for friends i dont have real life friends so i cant tell….
6. Imagine your guardian person (angel/creature/demon/anything) looks like…. What are they wearing and what would they say about you right now?
My guardian angel is a tiger so wearing nothing really. They would say  :  "never give up on the good times, you deserve them"
7.Do you have a niche interest that is too niche to bring up in job interviews or a normal conversation but you know a surprising amount about it?
Ive studied latin at school and there are a bunch of info i actually recall but that are quite weird to say in a convo lol some stuff im proud to know though lol
8. A set of lyrics or perhaps a whole song where the lyrics hit right in your gut that you wish to share?
Each night I cry I still believe the lie
I love you 'till I die
Save me save me save me
Save me save me oh save me
Don't let me face my life alone
Save me save me oh
I'm naked and I'm far from home
I feel save me by queen really hard lately
9. Is there a nickname not many people have for you but if you heard it in the street you’d respond?
Yes. My sis has a chinese nickname for me and it was created particularly for me so only i can get it when being called this way….
10.Your favorite piece of clothing you own?  
It is quite weird but yeah…. It is a black pareo with flames i have bought in hungary so sooo many years ago. If i die i would love to be buried with it lol
ahahah it was once again really fun, thanks again love !!! Here we go for my questions then ^^
What question would you like to be asked ? 
 Is there a dream you often have ?  Like more or less the same ?  If yes, would you mind sharing ? 
Is there a thing that might appear super simple or super random but that makes you feel happy, no matter what ? 
What is the best advice you could give yourself ? 
What is the funniest joke you've ever been told ? 
Is there something you’ve been aware of for many years but that you’ve understood only lately or many years later? 
Do you have any assumptions about France or French people in general? 
If you know it, what is your Chinese astrological sign and does it suit you?
Have you overcome one of your fears and if yes, how?    
Would you rather burp every time you lean in for a kiss or drool every time you talk?  
Even if I’ve been highly ignored last time with this one, even if it is super fun and super interesting, I’m tagging : @thosequeenboys @roger-taylors-car @ilygwilym @mirkwoodshewolf @painandpleasure86 @deakys-chesthair @keepsdrawings @sweet-potatoq @anotheronebitesthedick.... Thanks for reading and have fun 💖💜
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your-yandere-kiss · 5 years
Text
His Beautiful Rose // Beast! Romania x Beauty! Reader.
“For who could ever learn...”
She was so beautiful.
The most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
Vladimir's enchanted mirror had shown his many lovely things over his lonely life: handsome men and gorgeous women, stunning scenery from all around the world, displays of magic and great wonder that no mere human could even begin to imagine.
All of it had been beautiful. But none of it could ever compare to her.
She was just a simple village girl. She was no princess, no fairy, she wasn’t adorned in glittering gold and the finest silk. Her clothes were simple and plain. Her hair was pulled back into a long braid, tied with a faded ribbon. She was walking barefoot through a flower field, clutching an old tattered book to her chest as she walked through the blooming flowers.
And she was the most beautiful woman the hideous beast had ever laid eyes upon.
Vladimir couldn’t remember what it was like to be beautiful. It felt like he had been cursed so long ago, long enough that he’d forgotten his former life and became...the beast. No longer was he the handsome prince, standing in the light of glory. Now he was the beast, hidden away in the shadows so that no one may learn his horrible secrets. A hideous monster, hidden away by his shamed family. A creature that crawled out from your darkest nightmares. His fur was black as a starless night, his red eyes glowed like hell fire. His fangs and claws destroyed everything and anything he touched, he was a most terrifying beast but…
When he looked at her…
He forgot about all of that.
So he kept looking at her. Kept watching over here through his enchanted mirror, watching as she grew more beautiful each and everyday. It made him feel better, made him forget. And he wanted desperately to forget. The Beast watched Beauty (as he had come to call her) and as he did, he learned everything about her.
He learned that she was kind, her heart so full of love (could she ever love something like him, he wondered). She loved to sing as she worked (when she sang his favorite song, he was certain that it must be some kind of sign) and walked, exploring the forest around her home. She loved roses (he planted them all around his castle, just for her) tenderly. She loved to read, getting lost in the four falling-apart books that were all she had (she could have every book in his library, in only she would smile at him).
He learned that she was perfect. Everything that he had ever dreamed of. And he learned that he wanted her terribly.
Surly, he thought, if Beauty was by his side then his miserable life might finally be worth something. Maybe she would be frightened of him at first but...her heart was so pure and kind that he was almost certain that she could maybe...maybe love him.
If only he could find a way to get to her…
He thought about it. He thought about it every day and night, about taking her away to his castle in the dark forest but...he couldn’t leave his home. There were too many hunters around and he couldn’t risk it. They wouldn’t know they were killing their unseen ruler rather then some common beast. Even with his guards, it would be too dangerous.
So he would have to find a way to bring her here instead.
For years, he watched her. He waited. He wondered if he could ever call her his when...it finally happened. Her father, a long time widower remarried and Beauty gained a step-mother and six step-siblings. The step-brothers were hunters, roaming the woods and selling their catches. But unlike Beauty, the step-sisters were lazy and cruel, just like their mother. They hated Beauty, the jealous things, and mistreated her everyday. Her father was a weak man who pretended that it didn’t happen, leaving his precious Beauty to suffer.
He watched her cry, running off into the woods to sob. He watched them laugh at her tears, abuse her her, treat her like a common slave. But as much as Vladimir hated them for the way they treated his Beauty…
They were the key to making her his.
A hateful heart, after all, can always be manipulated for another’s gain.
He sent his elks to the forest, knowing full well what would happen. The three brothers killed them and brought them home, only to be followed by the royal guard. Or rather, stone statues made to look like guards. They were told that they had just killed the Crown Prince’s elks, a crime punishable by death or imprisonment. The step-mother wept for her precious sons only for one of the guard to whisper in her ear,
“If you sell us the girl, we’ll spare your sons.”
“My daughters? My dear daughters?” She cried.
“No...Y/N.”
Upon hearing Beauty’s true name, the step-mother ceased her weeping. She bullied Beauty’s father into agreeing to the deal and on that very night...Beauty was stolen away from home. She didn’t weep. She didn’t scream or cry. She never even looked back at her home once. Beauty was put into a golden carriage and carried away, far far way...
Vladimir watched her be lead through the forest she had always known...and into his lands.
His dark, gloomy lands. Gray clouds were thick in the sky and sunlight rarely seemed to stream through them. Tonight there was a terrible storm. Thunder beat loudly as lightning flashed its blinding light, rain fell heavily upon the land. The forest was thick and dark, full of thorns and many dangers. His stone soldiers carefully lead Beauty down a winding path. It was so hard to wait for her, it felt like he had been waiting forever…
“Just a moment longer. And then...”
Then she could be his.
Beauty was brought to the castle, looking up at the structure with wide eyes. It had once been a beautiful place, a shining golden castle but...now it was as ugly as he was, covered in a shroud of darkness and misery. Thunder suddenly clapped, a flash of lightning giving only a glimpse of the world around her. Turning around to thank the guards, Beauty was surprised to find that...They were gone. The horse and carriage were gone too.
Only he and Beauty were left now.
Vladimir watched as she walked, her simple shoes gliding across the cracked stones. She looked around her as she walked, staring at the unkempt grounds. Everything was impossible to make out in the dark but flashes of lightning occasionally allowed her to catch to glimpse of something. A fountain, once filled with fresh waters, now cracked a broken, filled with dirt and rain. Trees that had once bared the sweetest fruits now dead and bare. The grounds that were once beautiful and grand, now tangled and filled with weeds and dead things.
It was all a terrible mess but...the roses stood out.
They were perfect, blood red and blooming brilliantly. She looked at them as she walked, reaching out to touch the rain soaked petals. Would she ever touch him like that, he wondering. So gently and sweetly, oh, how he yearned for such a thing!
She came to the castle now and the doors swung wide open, revealing...nothing. No one.
There was only darkness.
“Hello?” She called out, her voice echoing in the abandoned castle.
It was the first time he could really hear her voice, not just from the mirror but...here. With him. In his home. His heart skipped a beat as he watched her walk through the castle. Everything was shrouded in darkness and the once fine furniture was covered in thick layers of dust. No one but him had been here for some time and that much was obvious. She walked alone through the dark castle until...she saw it.
A light.
A candle had suddenly burst alive, it’s flame flickering in the dark. Beauty followed it until suddenly another candle light up. And another and then another. One by one, the candles lead her through the castle, through the lonely halls, leading her...to him.
She walked and walked, following the flickering fire until it came to a door, a heavy golden door decorated with ruby roses and diamond stars. There was a silver moon smiling down at her...and a handsome man made of gold sitting among the roses. She touched his face before reaching to open the door. The second she touched the golden handle, the lights all when out and you were left in darkness once again.
For once, Vladimir turned away from his enchanted mirror.
For the first time in so long, he stared at something else. His bedroom door.
He watched it slowly open, he watched Beauty step inside.
His bedroom was pitch black, the only light came from the moonbeams that shined through the large window. He hid away from the light, lingering in the shadows as he watched her. Beauty looked all around, wondering why those candles had brought her here...until she saw it. The shape of something, just there in the corner. It moved slightly and she walked towards it.
“Hello? Is...is someone here?”
Her voice was beautiful, musical, magical. It made his heart leap with joy as she came closer to him.
The enchanted mirror had done her no justice, none at all. Beauty was even more perfect in person. His eyes couldn’t leave here once, roaming over her body and taking it all in. God she was...there were no words that could possibly describe her. Vladimir stared in awe as she walked towards him, still unable to quite make him out.
“Please, I was brought here...I don’t know why. Please, can you tell me?”
She was so close. So, so close.
Years of waiting and wanting bubbled up in his heart and...Vladimir couldn’t take it anymore.
Clawed hands reached out and pulled her into a tight embrace and he...stepped into the moonlight. She saw him as the monster he was, his black fur and his red eyes. Her small hands grasped his fur, her wide, beautiful eyes stared into his.
“You’re finally here...” he growled.
She really was here. He could touch her, smell her sweet scent, feel her heart beating wildly in her chest. Unable to control his excitement, he lunged forward and pressed his wolfish lips to hers in a hard, heated kiss. He could feel her tugging on his fur, hear her muffled little cries.
They only excited him more because…
Because they were real. She was real. And now…
Beauty was finally his.
“To love such a beast.”
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nancypullen · 4 years
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So Far, So Good
I have no beef with November.  She showed up right on time and brought some lovely chilly weather with her.  She’s sprinkling her colorful magic all over the trees and generally being delightful.  Unfortunately she is also the gateway to holiday food and I’m like a junkie who’s been clean for a year but I’m ready to score a casserole.  I eat a very healthy balance for ten months and then *BOOM*  the Butterball turkeys show up at Kroger and all bets are off.  I wish I could buy willpower.  Sadly, I can’t even say that I fight temptation, oh no, I jump in with both feet and create the temptation.  On Saturday the mister and I were running errands...Lowe’s, Kroger, Tractor Supply for donkey corn to keep the deer in our yard during hunting season, the usual.  I told him that we needed to swing into the library parking lot because I had a couple of books on hold.  Were these volumes to entertain or expand my mind? No. They will only expand my thighs.
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Come on.  You can’t tell me that that doesn’t look like fun!  Last week I baked cookies.  I hadn’t baked anything in forever because we don’t need it hanging around the house.  But I had an excuse.  I had swapped cat sitting duties with a neighbor (Willie’s other mom).  They were out of town for a few days in September and I dutifully went over and got the mail, fed her cats twice a day, scooped litter, let them out in the morning and back in for dinner, and gave them love.  In turn, when we went up to Maine she came over and scooped litter, fed our kitties wet food once a day, brought in the mail, etc.  She even took our garbage can to the curb and brought it back in.  They left town again just before we returned from our trip but had a relative house sitting.  They returned last week.   She’d given me a restaurant gift card as a thank you for watching their kitties, so I did the same but also used my gratitude as an excuse to make my favorite fall cookie - gingersnaps!  I figured I’d take a batch over with the gift card so they’d have dinner and dessert. Pulling that bottle of molasses out of the top cupboard felt like a homecoming. I uncovered the ol’ KitchenAid mixer and had one of the best afternoons I’d had in ages.  Playing music, baking cookies, and watching leaves flutter to the ground through the kitchen window - it just doesn’t get much better than that.  Of course I kept a baker’s dozen on a plate for us and they were gone in no time.  The floodgates are open. I did it.  I sabotaged myself.  And I loved every minute of it.  Please do not suggest that I could enjoy the same magical experience by whipping up a batch of bran muffins or tofu brownies.  That’s just crazy talk. Bustling around the kitchen and filling the house with delicious aromas - it’s such simple comfort.  My sister and I have had conversations recently about how, now more than ever, it’s important to keep sweetness and simplicity in our lives.  I actively seek out the whimsical side of life - enchanting art, silly poems, looking for clouds shaped like animals, all of it.  I’m drawn to fairy tales and their illustrations. I love a happy ending.  Remember when I mentioned that I’d picked up a watercolor by Maine artist Marvin Jacobs?  I didn’t choose a seascape or a harbor painting.  I picked this guy.
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 It’s so important to keep sweetness in your life, otherwise the daily news will drag you under.  Be aware, be informed, work diligently for change, but leave room for lightness.   I’m saying all of this so that you’ll know why my heart cracked open and I cried when my sister sent a box full of joy straight to my mailbox.  Seems that she caught wind of a woman clearing out some treasures and she picked up a batch of Royal Albert Beatrix Potter figurines for a song!  She picked out three for me as a surprise and I can’t tell you how happy my heart is when I look at my kitchen window sill.
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Jemima Puddleduck,  Mrs. Rabbit & Bunnies, and Old Mr. Brown.  Oh, my heart!  My sister told me that she knew I needed the Mrs. Bunny figure because she’s cuddling her two babies - like my two babies! 
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Add to that the reminder that my Grandma Ethel called me Cuddlebunny, sewed bunny patches on my jeans during the summer that I chased her sheep and named all of her chickens, and I’m a puddle.  My sister and I love Beatrix Potter’s sweet (there’s that word again) stories and illustrations.  When the mister and I went to London I scoured the stalls on Portobello Road to find an old Beatrix Potter illustration to bring home and frame.  It hangs in the sweetest room in our house, the grandgirl’s room!
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Can you imagine what it meant to me to open that box from my sister?  That was a box of love, my friends.  Now I need to add to my collection.  My sister is a fan of Hunca Munca, the busy little mouse.  She kept this figurine and said she identified with it.  I think she’s spot on.  I’ll have to look for more Hunca Munca for her.
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I think we both agree that something about these little statues reminds us of time spent in Weiser.  Being at our grandparents little pink house was paradise.  My sister stayed at Grandma’s elbow, watching her sew and cook.  I stuck to her like glue outside learning about her chickens and flowers.  Her gardens were so lush.  Once when I was pretending to be outlaw Belle Starr, western rule-breaker and heartbreaker, I used one of her giant snowball bushes for my hideout.  It was so big and full that I could crawl under the lowest boughs and sit up inside.  It was beautiful and smelled good, just the sort of spot Belle would choose.  We were always so carefree in Weiser - my brother and I taught the sheep to play hide ‘n seek (really!).  If you’ve never seen a sheep hide behind a tree and peek out at you, you haven’t lived.  We named chickens after characters from Robin Hood.  My Grandpa Carl thought I was a hoot.  He spoiled me and I was his favorite.  Turns out that every one of his grandkids could say the same.  We were so safe and loved on their patch of Idaho.   I tried to put plenty of magic and whimsy into my kids’ childhoods.  They probably aren’t even aware that some of their silliest thoughts were planted there early.  I’ll bet when they see birds lined up on a wire and their first thought is “bird meeting” they don’t remember the dialogue I’d make up when we saw things like this -
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Bird meeting!  #1 on the agenda is cat location...new orange tabby moved in on corner of Elm and Oak, so be aware.  Worm of the Month award goes to Maurice for the whopper he pulled out of a garden on May 5th. Way to go!  Congratulations to Stanley and Mary on hatching 4 eggs last Wednesday. That’s a lot of mouths to feed, so if anyone has extra bugs, slugs, or worms let them know. You get the idea.  They were little, Mom was just rambling at a red light, but I’ll bet that BIRD MEETING pops into their heads when they a feathered gathering.  Besides, when you anthropomorphize creatures I think kids are less likely to harm them and more likely to empathize. Whimsy with a purpose. Wow.  I apologize.  This blog post is all over the place and as usual I had no plan.  I just sit down at the laptop and empty my brain.  It’s therapy for me and a sleep aid for you. Win-win! On that note I will wrap this up and go dance around the kitchen with a broom.  I used panko when making last night’s eggplant dinner and based on the crunch I heard under my slippers this morning I didn’t sweep it all up.  Your assignment for today is to seek out sweetness.  When you find it, hold on to it.  Take it like a vitamin every day for a healthy soul.   Have a cookie too, can’t hurt might help. XOXO
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littlecrookedheart · 5 years
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Where We Belong • Fluffy Friday no.2 vol.1
Prompt (s) : 35 & 40 ; "you'd give it all up for me?" / "teach me to do that" requested by @brightpinkpeppercorn ♡
Pairing : Damien x Ryan
Rating : Brief language warning, I think I dropped 4 F bombs. Otherwise, none!
Author’s Note : I kinda cheated? This fic is supposed to be fluffy and it's a little angsty too, I'M SORRY!! Deduct points if needed.
Word Count : 1,713
Inspiration found in this song : Sweet Creature | Harry Styles
"When I run out of road, you will bring me home."
Ryan's breath expelled in a cloud of white against the indigo sky, the bite of winter harsh on her skin as she stood arms crossed and brow furrowed, feet planted firmly on the fire escape.
"Come back," Damien called from the window, his arm resting against the pane.
"Get away from me."
"Okay. At least take this blanket?" He held out an emerald colored knit blanket, eyes impatient toward her pouting.
"I'm fine."
"Ryan, really?"
She turned on her heel to face him, her eyes brimming with tears. "Really what, Damien? Is it that impossible for you to leave me alone for one fucking minute? Can I not breathe one breath without you down my throat?"
Damien shook his head, scoffing, "Look, I get being angry, Ryan. But this? This is mean. This isn't you." He walked away, leaving the blanket on the edge of the window.
Somewhere inside, she knew he was right, but in this moment, she wanted to scream to the heavens. Mean? What about what he'd just said to her? That was mean. She knew that even if he'd been awful in the moments before, so had she. He was right, and she hated it.
Bundling the cover around herself, she sat against the wall, her shoulders dropping as she started sobbing. Why was this so hard? If by some chance they could move on from this, would they ever really mend? What if this was it? All questions she dreaded answering, all that could wait for awhile as she buried her face in her hands, tears drying against the night air.
Inside, Damien paced back and forth, finally stopping and slamming his hands on the countertop. His hair fell into his eyes and he huffed upward at it, sending it flying in an even more annoying array. He dropped to the floor, head in his hands.
Could he fix this? This was the big one, not their first fight, but their worst fight, less than a handful on their track record. This is the one that stung. This was the one that made them both cry, that rocked the rowboat they've been living so happily on, and all because he said something stupid.
He thought back to his words and the way her heart broke in front of him, his breaking in her reflection.
-
"I'm sick of pretending it doesn't hurt me, Damien. Either we want the same things or we don't, but every relationship has compromise and I'm willing to-"
"Maybe we shouldn't be together."
Ryan froze, her hand shaking as she wiped her nose, "You can't....what?! You can't be serious."
"I can't be what you need, Ryan. We both know it. Why prolong the inevitable?"
"Fuck you for saying that," she cried, her chest seeming to cave in, "I hate that you just said that to me." And with that, she crawled onto the fire escape to be alone, to get away from him.
-
She's my person, he thought, my soulmate. I can't lose that, especially not because I couldn't keep my mouth shut.
So he stood up, wiping his face and pushing his hair back, walking to the living room before lifting a leg out the window. He slumped down next to her and wrapped his arms around her. The idea that he was the reason she could hardly catch her breath through her tears clawed at his heart. And he cried, too, quietly with her as the world around them drifted away.
Damien lifted his face, stroking a hand through Ryan's hair as he took a deep breath.
"I'm so, so sorry."
Ryan looked up at him, her eyes bloodshot and teary. She sniffled and shook her head, saying, "I'm the one who should be sorry."
Damien's forehead creased, regret filling his eyes. "Don't say that," he said, his voice almost a whisper. He brushed her hair away from her face, using his thumb to gently wipe her half dried tears.
"Ryan, listen to me. I fucked up, I know I did, and I can't tell you how sorry I am. You deserve more than that-"
"Stop! That's what started this in the first place, Damien. I don't want anything else. I don't want anyone else. Why don't you hear me?"
He looked up, blinking away the urge to cry.
"Talk to me, please. Why don't you believe me?"
Damien sighed, clearing his throat. His voice cracked when he spoke, eyes glossy. "I love you more than I even know how to comprehend."
"I love you just as much, dummy," Ryan said, placing a hand on his abdomen as she rested her head on the wall next to his. "I'm sorry for what I said. You're right, it was mean, and I didn't mean it. But Damien," she cupped his cheek, turning his face to hers, "You have to stop this."
"I don't know how to."
"Then...I'll help you learn."
"I'm not wrong, though, Ryan."
"So..you don't want to be with me?"
He turned his neck, looking at her desperately. "Of course I want to be with you. You're all I want for the rest of the moments I'm alive."
"Then why-"
"Because I'm...Ryan, nothing I can ever be for you will be good enough. You deserve better than me. Like I've been telling you."
"Yeah, like you've been telling me, but not once have you given me any actual reasons why. We've been together for two years, Damien. Don't you think I'd know by now what I do and don't want?"
"Why would you want this?!"
"I just want you. No matter what that means. Unless you're breaking up with me, I'm not talking about this anymore."
"I can't take care of you the way-"
"Do you think that's all I want from you?" She asked, an obvious tone of offense in her voice, "Have I ever treated you like that's all you are to me? Money, Damien? Read my lips. I love you."
"I love you too, with every fiber of my being, but I can't help thinking this. At least know that.. I'd understand if you....drifted from me."
Ryan stood to her feet, swooping back into the apartment. Damien rubbed his temples, sighing heavily before following her inside. He turned to close the window, Ryan calling over from the kitchen, "Do not dare step foot in this apartment unless you promise me, promise me, that you won't say a single bad thing about yourself."
He stopped for a moment and nodded, pushing the window closed before making his way to her. She slipped her arms around his waist, trailing a hand up his spine and tangling it into his hair. And she kissed him, like he was the world, because for her, he was.
Pulling away with stars in his eyes, Damien's somber demeanor turned to a bright smile. "Teach me how to do that?"
"Do what?"
"Make everything better," he said, pressing his lips to hers again, feeling her love swell in his lungs, chest, and move fluidly through him, as if she were the very reason his body kept going, the blood that filled his veins.
"I never want to spend a second without you. But I promise, if you need to breathe...I'll back off."
"I didn't mean that," she said, resting her head on his shoulder.
"I don't want to swarm you."
"I'd rather you swarm me than ever talk about leaving me, ever again."
"You think I'd ever have left you? Ryan...Losing you? I would never recover. You're my angel, I just want you to be happy, you have to know that."
"You're my happy."
"As you're mine," he smiled, kissing the top of her head. He laced his fingers with hers, walking to the couch.
She plopped back, snuggling into him. "Tell me something. Anything."
"You're the sweetest smelling woman I've ever known."
Ryan giggled, tightening her embrace around him. "More, please."
"You're kind. Understanding. Way too patient,"
"If I weren't patient, this relationship would be much different."
"I am thankful for your patience. You're intelligent, hilarious. Seductive."
"Don't even try."
Damien laughed, throwing his hands up in surrender. "Wouldn't dream of it."
She sat up, looking into his eyes. "We're going to have to talk about this."
He fixed his posture and nodded, "Okay."
"Okay. We both want children, right?"
"Absolutely."
"And marriage?"
"I'd love to be your husband."
"But we differ on where we want to be."
"I love the city, but like I said before...I'd want to have my family in a house somewhere beautiful, somewhere our own."
"Damien, I want to be wherever you are. We can move away from the city."
"I know how you want to live in the city and design the spaces, though. I told you, Ryan, if that's what makes you happy, I'll be happy."
"But you wouldn't be. And neither would I. Raising a baby in this little apartment? A dog? It wouldn't work the way either of us want it to...and that isn't something I'm willing to compromise on. I'd be happy to move outside of the city for us."
"Angel, it's your dream. You'd give it all up for me?"
"I wouldn't have to. I could design from outside the city, not to mention suburban clientele. Besides, it would be for us. Me, you, random dog we don't have yet, and little baby Nazario."
"Say that again."
"Random dog we don't have?" Ryan teased.
"Little baby Nazario," his grin almost audible in his words, "Now that's the dream."
"It's the most beautiful dream," she said, meeting his lips with a honeyed kiss, pushing him back.
He held her closely in his arms, smiling at the idea of the pitter patter of little feet. They'd imagined their future home before, but not like that. Not like how it was destined to be.
"I was made to love you," he whispered, "Nothing in existence could ever matter for me if you weren't part of it. You're my home. And I am so, so sorry for being anything other than sweet to you."
"Promise me something?"
"Anything."
"You'll listen to me when I say, I could never love anyone more than I love you. I don't want a life that doesn't begin and end with you by my side. Okay?"
Teary eyed and full of adoration, he nodded, kissing the crown of her head.
"Okay."
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the 5 most important fics to me
i don’t know if i should thank you or start crying with this tag anitra @allwaswell16 ,like how dare you? i was in absolute pain picking the most special fics for me..holy hell, i apologize to all my writer mutuals, please know i love you all, and i am always in awe of your talents. i appreciate and love you all, know that this is a REAL challenge for me, jesus christ, so here goes nothing..
1) RELIEF NEXT TO ME by @dolce_piccante i have a soft spot for this fic. Le Louis? until now i imagine what this decadent chocolate would taste like. For me, the portrayal of their relationship, how it came about, although it started unconventionally, depicts the most REAL experiences of any couple, regardless if it’s a HET or Gay relationship, the circumstances that they went through and how they dealt with ‘em as a couple/unit, is so accurate. In all honesty, my wedding vow is loosely based on what Louis said in their wedding, or in their case, the one he whispered to Harry when he thought he was asleep one morning (to those who’ve read it, you know what i mean). RNTM is the fic that made me a huge fan of larry fan fics. It served as my gauge to all the fics i’ve had the priviledge to read. What came with the fic is the genius playlist dolce provided, the L and the Harry playlist, jesus knocked my socks off! And lest i forget to mention another great fic of dolce, which is SOFT HANDS, FAST FEET, CAN’T LOSE . I mean, who does not know who Hugo Styles is? that’s how you know how it made an impact to the larry fan fiction fandom, is when you start to associate the pictures of the real Harry to a fan fic character. And the angst man, the angst!!!!!!..love it.  
2) 210 DAYS by @cherrystreet i think i’m one of the biggest stans of this fic. In all honesty, I’ve read this fic over 15x and every god damn time I do read it, i am literally crying. For anybody who has been in a long distance relationship, like what i’m in right now, writing and receiving letters are the most important part of your life. The line I fucking miss you, i miss fucking you. whutt????? tears start rolling down my cheeks and suddenly i’m ugly crying! I swear, that was my personal mantra for a year before lauren’s fic came out (shout out to @fullonlarrie, you’ll get your mention later). I will never tire of reading this fic..ever.
3) (7th day of 30DOS) LONG ROAD TO LOVE LEADS YOU BACK by @myownspark okay kiddos, for some of you who have not been in a long term relationship or is not married, let me tell you, daydreaming with your PERSON, even if it is the most mundane, crazy or stupid fantasy, is NORMAL in any circumstance. Cynthia, bless her gorgeous mind, was able to paint the picture of impossibility in a moment to pure realism. Every time she drops a new fic, i know i’ll be blown away. Again, I will play favorites, because I will not dare mention her two other fics which are for me, the new classics. These are NO ONE LIKE YOU & JUST SING ME THE SONG AND I’LL SING IT. You want to read quality fics, no explicit content, just enjoy the ride in finding LOVE and be catapulted to the stunning imagery of unadulterated passion, give NOLY and JSMTSAISI a read. Holy hell, Cynthia is the best in romaticism for me. Please, if you have not read any of her fics, you are truly missing out.
4) ATLAS AT LAST by @louisandthealien one of the fics that you would like to be part of. Road trip AU where the soundtrack is as beautiful as the story. You want friendship, you got it. You want young love, have at it sweets. You want adventure, by god man, this fic has loads of em. Marie is a young woman with a penchant for oldies but goodies song. I would love to dig into her playlist and  invite her to have a beer or somewhat while we listen to the songs. 
5) I want to cheat, please let me, I beg you. I’m so conflicted with these two amazing fics. 
5.a. COAX THE COLD by @mediawhore This fic is pure MAGIC. A mermaid au that takes you to the world of magical creatures, the macabre and of a man who is driven by curiosity but later on was lead into finding unconditional love. Isn’t that the sweetest? When you look beyond appearances, past species even, and just trust how your hearts beats for another being. I love how Marie describes the supernatural world in the eyes of the most cynical person (Prof. Tomlinson) and finding the beauty in Merman Harry. Encompassing prejudices and pretentiousness..like Magic.
5.b. SAY HALLELUJAH, SAY GOODNIGHT by @alivingfire An Angel/Demon au. Holy hell, this IS an incredible fic. This fic gave me the What Dreams May Come vibes (a Robbin Williams film that I hope some of you have seen. It’s an oldie okay). This universe brought me the “As I walk through the valleys of the shadows of death, will swim the deepest and vastest ocean, go to hell and back just to find you” vibes. Just writing that is giving me chills. i mean, will you do that, will you welcome death upon yourself, endure the most pain, strip yourself of dignity, make the ultimate sacrifice for the one you love, when it does not guarantee you, not even in a minute way, that you will be with him/her? Then this is the fic for you , and fucking hell, it is for me.
okay, some of these fics deserves to be raved about too. indulge me if you must with the honorary mentions.
FICS THAT KILLED ME!!!
1) Take My Breath Away by @realitybetterthanfiction breathtaking fic, a top gun AU wherein the fic is far more beautiful than the film. How do you like them apples! (director Tony Scott RIP tho’)
2) Swim in the Smoke by @crazyupsetter the fic that made me fall in love in the ABO universe. A pioneer ABO fic.
3) Don’t Want Shelter by @fullonlarrie Lauren gave me my new mantra “Spoon me, asshole!”. I will forever be grateful to her for bringing me silver fox louis. The best enemies to lovers fic, Did i mention the Larents are in their 40′s!!! Can you imagine how maturely immature they are, because they are! the puns, situations and jokes, so borderline geriatrics in  proportions.  I love love love this fic!
4) Where Your Heart Is @tvshows-addict @ahncor this fic has a special place in my heart, because I am a medical person, trained medical person even. And referencing EB in a fic, blew my god damn mind! Addy and Gen, jesus, this fic—flawless. 
5) Got the Sunshine On My Shoulders by @hattalove this fic killed me over and over again. i would never forgive Harry in this fic, and this is the first time that I wished they never ended up together. Can you believe a larrie hoping they don’t fucking end up in the end! That’s how affected I am of this fic. An angsty fic that kills me over and over again.
6) Over Again by @sincewewereeighteen the song Moving On by Kodaline, what else can I say, a perfect choice for this fic. Can you really move on from your greatest love? hard no bish.
7) Wings to Break Your Fall by @karamelised Stripper au. God damn, the sexiest fic ever!!!! i will never forget Harry with wings dancing on a fucking stripper pole.
8) The Impossible Now by @stylinsoncity In every universe, Larry will find each other and fall in love. 
9) TIF how dare anyone not mention TIF as one of the bests. A true Classic. The car wash scene–genius! and the clicking sounds of Harry’s camera when they first reunite after they unofficially broken up, fuck! the feels.
10) We The Fireworks by @happilylarreh (AfterJenny) heartbreakingly beautiful fic. the Larents after going through unimaginable ordeals in their lives, needs to have a happy ending, and indeed they did. They found each other, fought their demons, learned to love and live their lives. and together, they were fireworks.
11) (Take Me Home) Country Roads by @awriterwrites the perfect enemies to lovers fic, also modern medicine meets homeopathic medicine (imagine my excitement when I get to read another medically inspired fic). Of course, I see myself as Louis, who is the stubborn and cynical bastard who does not accept unorthodox methods of healing. But alas, Lisa, being the gifted writer that she is, made the cynic in me see the potential in everything. The angst, slow fucking burn!! i live with these shit. Give me fics that’ll burn holes in my heart, give em to me, i want to hurt. And this fic hurts real good. 
i know, i cheated. this is a long list. i’m a fic addict, can’t you tell? i actually restrained myself, because the honorary mentions, i’ll probably end up naming 50 fics, jesus christ!
ok, i’m tagging @gaycousinlarry @goodmorningtoyouuniverse @fullonlarrie @dimpled-halo @myownsparknow
i’m so sorry!!!!! i had to sweets! good luck!
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nitewrighter · 6 years
Note
Can we get some Bunnyribbit content please and thank you
…Fairytale AU, anyone?
Once upon a time there was a princess named Hana who rode atop a great armored steed she lovingly called Meka. She was famed for her skill in combat and much beloved by the people for her fierce spirit and joyful heart. Of all these people, no one loved her more than a humble bard named Lúcio.
 Though with his great talents, Lúcio could have easily taken his place as a singer to kings, he had long ago decided that his music belonged to the common folk, and he preferred an open blue sky over his head more than any castle. Still though, he would find himself drawn to the jousting matches where the Princess Hana would compete. He would watch as the enemy lances shattered and splintered against her sea-green shield, and the scalloped edges of the pink caparison of her horse fluttered as it galloped. Her skill and valor would leave him speechless and awed in the daylight, but by night he would write out pages and pages of music inspired by her, for she was the song of his heart.
Eventually these songs, so pleasing to the ear, would be sung throughout the kingdom, and leave the Princess in a wonder as to where they were coming from. 
One day, however, the bard emerged from his room in the inn to find there was no singing in the streets. The next jousting match had been cancelled, and he was determined to find out why. He went to the castle and found a long line of knights there, and politely asked what was going on.
“The princess has been captured,” one of the knights replied, “But sunset yesterday, she lead her horse to water, and sat down to rest herself. While she was unhorsed she was stolen away by a cruel sorceress.”
“Then I must rescue her,” the words fell out of Lúcio.
“You?” the knight laughed and poked Lúcio in the chest with a gauntleted hand, causing Lúcio to flinch slightly “With no armor? No horse? Naught but the clothes and lute on your back and that silly feathered hat upon your head? Go home and write your verses, bard, sing a sad song, and leave this to a real adventurer.”
But Lúcio was not to be deterred. By night he stole into the royal stables and found the mare Meka, who bucked and whinnied in nervousness at the sight of a stranger. Lúcio quickly took the lute off of his back and plucked a few soothing notes, easing the animal down.
“I wish to rescue your mistress,” he said to Meka, “But I need your help to find her. I know you let no one ride you but her, but know that she is the song of my heart, and I cannot rest until she is safe.”
The horse, eased by his words and music, turned her flank to him, and he swung up onto her saddle. With the lightest kick to her sides the horse took off like lightning. The guards of the castle raced after them, but no horse could compare to the speed of Meka. They easily outpaced the city guard and rode out into the wilderness, and rode day and knight into the lands of the sorceress. Sometimes he would play his lute from the horse’s back, and as if by some powerful magic, the horse would run more swiftly, joy and fury in its heart. They rode to the edge of the Sorceress’s dread realm, where the sky overhead was gray and the grasses underfoot were dead and dried, and there they reached a bridge. A single troll, massive, bleeding from countless cuts, wearing a pig-like mask and carrying a cruel bloody hook stood at the side of the bridge, the bodies of many felled knights littered around him. He wheezed from his own wounds.
“If you wish to die against my hook, by all means, step forward,” said the troll, coughing from exhaustion.
Lúcio took a deep breath and swung off the horse. The troll was clearly near death but not about to show it, and certainly not unable to kill him.
“I seek no fight,” said the bard, “But, if you let me pass, I can heal your wounds.”
“You would do that?” said the troll.
“I’m no barber-surgeon, this lute has been gifted to me by the fae,” said Lúcio.
The troll sighed. “If you are lying I will cut your heart from your chest and wear your entrails as my belt.”
“…Fair enough,” said Lúcio. With that he began to play. Note by note the bleeding wounds all over the troll’s belly closed and the great brute gave a sigh of relief.
“You may pass,” said the troll, and Lúcio nodded, swung back onto Meka and rode on.
 They rode on and on across the gray lands, until they reached a cave. A tall spindly goblin stood next to to the mouth of the cave, eagerly various powders into his campfire and giggling with glee at the shifting colors of the flames.
“This is the swiftest way to the castle of the sorceress, isn’t it?” said Lúcio.
“Yes, but if you wish to pass here, you must answer my riddles,” said the goblin.
“All right,” said Lúcio.
“What kind of tree do you hold in your hand?” said the goblin.
“A palm,” said Lúcio.
“All right that one was easy. That was me testing you. The real riddle is… what is taller when it’s young, but shorter when its ol–”
“Candle,” said Lúcio.
“I didn’t finis—I mean you’re right but—Ooooh!” The goblin shook his fists, “All right. Time for the really difficult one. It cannot be seen, cannot be felt, cannot be heard, cannot—”
“Dark,” said Lúcio.
“You can’t just–How did you—You bloody cheat!” The goblin spat.
“…I’m a bard,” said Lúcio with a shrug, “We work with puns a lot.”
The goblin snarled and screamed and railed and stamped his feet and Lúcio stood quite patiently until the goblin was finished. 
“Fine,” the goblin huffed, “You may pass. This cave is the swiftest way to the sorceress, but no one said you would survive the cave.” 
“Okay, uh…thanks,” said Lúcio, urging Meka forward into the cave.
The cave was a fairly straightforward tunnel, but then Lúcio began to notice it was growing paler and paler with cobwebs.
“This is… concerning…” Lucio started to say when a spider the size of cat dropped down from the ceiling and Meka whinnied and bucked him from her saddle. He flew forward and found himself stuck in a sticky web that covered up the whole of the the tunnel of the cave as Meka paced and whinnied in alarm.
“You’re a long way from home, aren’t you, singer?” a whispery voice came and a creature with the upper torso of a woman, but the lower torso of a spider crawled down from the ceiling. Lúcio’s hand strained toward his lute.
“I know of you, bard,” said the spider queen, “My children spin their cobwebs in every corner of every home. All have heard of Lúcio. All have heard his music. Such a shame the song must end.”
As her fangs drew closer and closer to his throat, Lúcio finally managed to take ahold of his lute and tear it free from the webbing. In desperation he strummed a few sad chords. The saddest, sweetest chords he could. The spider queen withdrew from him with a hiss. “What are you doing?” she demanded.
Lúcio desperately strummed with all his heart. He would not permit himself to weep in despair in front of the spider queen, so he let his lute weep for him. If he died here, he could never rescue the princess. He could never sing again. He could never bring joy to the people or watch the wind blow through the lovely brown hair of Princess Hana. He mourned all of this with every note he plucked on his lute, and the spider queen, a widow with a heart long frozen over by cruelty and wickedness, found herself weeping. She wept and wept from all seven of her red eyes. With a swipe of one of her eight legs, she cut him loose from her web.
“Go,” she said with a snarl and a sob, “Go!”
Lúcio whistled and Meka galloped forward. He swung up onto the horse and rode out of the cave as fast as he could.
Now with the the troll and the goblin and the spider queen behind him, he rode on fearlessly. Then a little fearfully. Then very fearfully. Then he was absolutely terrified, but the important point was, he was still riding. He rode and rode as the sorceress’s tower grew larger and larger. He stopped about a hundred feet from the tower. 
“We… probably shouldn’t just charge in,” he said, glancing down at his unarmored tunic. He drew his lute from his back and started playing a lullaby, then lightly spurred meka forward. He played the lullaby more and more sweetly as the horse moved toward the tower. The archers of the tower drifted off to sleep as soon as the bard fell within earshot, and still Lúcio played his sweet song as Meka trotted ever forward. Finally they reached the great dark door of the tower, and Lúcio swung off of the horse. Still strumming the lullaby on his lute, he braced his back against the door and pushed it open with his feet. He entered the tower and found countless goblin soldiers asleep on the stairs, and then he saw a figure, a girl clad in blue and pink and white hurrying down the stairs with a dagger in hand. Their eyes met and Lúcio felt his heart melt into his stomach.
“Are all the guards asleep because of you?” asked the princess.
Lúcio could only dumbly nod, stunned by her beauty.
She huffed a sigh of relief and continued going down the stairs of the tower. “Thank you,” she said, “I could not have made it this far if not for you.” She squinted her eyes a little. “You don’t look like a typical knight,” her eyes flicked to Meka, “Is… is that my horse?”
“I..um… I only borrowed it,” said Lúcio.
“Who are you?” said the princess, furrowing her brow.
“Me?” Lúcio rubbed the back of his neck, “I’m just a humble singer, your majesty.”
“A singer?” said Princess Hana, “A singer made it past the troll and the goblin and the spider queen?” she glanced down at his person, “Without so much as a sword?”
“Should…should I have had a sword?” said Lúcio, now feeling quite embarrassed at his lack of armor, shield and sword.
Hana’s mouth dropped open and a huff of disbelief escaped her. “I don’t know what to make of you,” she said with a slight smile.
Lúcio gestured at her horse, “You can make what you will of me later. For now I think we should leave.”
The princess nodded and hurried toward him, but then a clear voice rang out from the top of the tower. “And just where, my dear, do you think you’re going?”
Hana brandished her dagger at the sorceress and . “We’re leaving,” she said, her brow furrowed, “You have no power over me.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” said the sorceress with a flourish of her arms. A beam of magic was hurtling toward them both. Without thinking Lúcio shoved the princess out of the way and took the full brunt of the beam.
“No!” said Hana, but it was too late. Lúcio disappeared in a puff of smoke, his clothes falling in a heap, his lute landing with a discordant bounce, and his cavalier hat drifting sadly to the ground.
 In a fit of rage the princess threw her dagger, and the sorceress, still exhausted from putting so much of her fury into her spell, caught the dagger in her heart. The sorceress stumbled back and collapsed on the stairs dead.
Hana fell to her knees next to the pile of clothes, weeping. “I’m sorry,” she said between tears and sobs, “I’m so sorry.” She slumped to the ground but then heard the soft rustle of paper and sat up, her eyes still tearstrained. She sifted through the pile of clothes and took out a sheet of paper covered in music notes and lyrics. She sifted a bit more and there was another, and another. She hummed out the chords written on the papers and her eyes widened.
“All those songs…” she said, her voice still creaking with suppressed sobs, “They were from you.”
There came a squeaky little croak from under the feathered hat next to Hana and she perked up and turned to look at it. She lifted the hat and there was a small emerald-green frog. It croaked again and she scooped it up in her hands. “All those songs were from you,” she said again, tears spilling from her eyes. Without a second thought she kissed the emerald-green frog. There was a great burst of green and yellow light, a shower of sparks, and the bard returned to human form, his face cupped in her hands.
“Princess…” he said softly, and then he glanced down at himself. He quickly grabbed his trousers and covered himself with them, “Princess! Sorry! Sorry!”
Hana just giggled and covered her eyes with her hands as he quickly pulled his clothes back on. “It’s fine,” she said, pulling her hands away from her eyes as she saw the bard still nervously lacing up his shirt, “It’s fine,” she said with a smile.
“We should…” the bard cleared his throat and gestured at her horse, “We should get you back.”
The princess curtsied to him. “Thank you for your valor, brave bard,” she said, kissing him on the cheek as she walked over to Meka, “Just one thing: I’m driving.” 
The bard smiled and nodded.
With that they clambered up onto Meka and rode off towards home.
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sophygurl · 6 years
Text
I love the question memes and my fave kind is the kind @pixiedane​ just tagged me in (thank you!). [Also sidenote: ILU @theawkwardterrier​ for always tagging me in the tagging memes but JSYK I won’t be doing the latest one because I’m just not really a picture person so I don’t really have a lot of pictures saved and the idea of trying to use whatever weird random stuff I might have saved to describe myself would just not work. But you’re the best and I’ll catch ya on the next one!]
The rules:
Post the rules
Answer the questions given to you by the tagger
Write 11 questions of your own
And tag 11 people
1. What’s the meaning of your name? Does it suit you?
Rosemary doesn’t seem to have a specific meaning, although of course it’s an herb, and Rosemary is for remembrance, which is hilarious given my memory problems. Mary means bitter, so some name meaning sites say the meaning of my name is “bitter rose” which I guess is a nice combo of sweet and sad, which I would not really classify myself as. So, no, the various meanings of my name do not suit me.
The name itself? Does. I love my name, and while most people can’t be bothered with a 3 syllable name in casual conversation, my preference is to be called Rosemary and not Rose. Rose does not feel like me.
2. What’s a movie you never get tired of?
A lot of movies fit under this category, but the movie I have probably seen the most amount of times and can still watch either in full or in chunks and still enjoy every single second of no matter what is Dirty Dancing. 
3. Your favourite movie soundtrack?
Are we talking soundtrack as in collection of songs used in the movie and put into an album, or as in score for the movie, or?
Because nothing but nothing beats the Star Wars scores for me. Well, original and prequels and TFA anyway - the last two have diverged quite a bit which has felt odd to me but whatever. [Second place would be the scores for the 70/s80s Superman movies - also John Williams of course]
If collection of songs - then we’re back to Dirty Dancing.
Although if we’re considering soundtracks of musicals, then I’m gonna be reduced to flailing and just naming half a dozen or so, so we’ll just pretend that’s not part of the question. 
4. How would you describe your personal style?
Accidental? I pretty much just buy things that I find interesting, and then put things together that seem interesting to me, and then end up with some pretty ... interesting outfits. One of my roommates actually described my look yesterday as “crazy” if that tells you anything.
Think colors that don’t quite match, conflicting patterns, stripey socks, chunky jewelry, and then at times like now at the end of winter when I haven’t shaved my head in awhile - short floppy hair that is sticking up in all directions that I swear I tried to tame but it just doesn’t take. 
5. Name a fictional crush.
Spike from Buffy. Also Buffy from Buffy. And put them together? Double crush. 
6. What’s your motto?
I don’t really have a motto, per se, but I do have a mantra, which is: love, peace, joy, hope. Those are the qualities I try to embody, embrace, spread, whatever. All four are of equal importance to me. 
7. Are you a gamer?
If by gamer, you mean obsessively playing the Sims, then yes. But most people who consider themselves gamers would probably say no.
8. Would you rather spend time on a secluded beach or at a fancy cocktail party?
How about a fancy cocktail party on a secluded beach? Too much sand in the drinks, never mind.
Ah, these are both problematic for me. I don’t do so well with being completely alone, especially without some kind of distraction or diversion. I guess if I had a book with me on the beach, I’d be okay for a little while, but I’d also get uncomfortable super fast if there wasn’t, like, a comfy sofa or something to recline on. 
And I also don’t do well with fancy, or come to think of it with cocktails since I can’t drink any more with the meds I have to take. 
But, if I had to choose, I’d probably pick the party. I’d be dressed inappropriately (probably something with loud colors and polka dots?), and sitting in the corner mostly people watching, and I’d get overwhelmed and head home early, but still. 
9. Recommend a television series.
oohhhoooomygods just ONE?
I’ve rec’d this one many times, but since it just came back for season two last night (I haven’t watched the ep yet - it’s next on my list), I’m gonna recommend Imposters to you all again.
Imposters is a lil show with a small but dedicated fandom on Bravo. 
It stars Inbar Lavi (Prison Break, The Last Ship) as a con woman and Rob Heaps (Home Fires, And Then There Were None), Parker Young (Arrow, Suburgatory), and  Marianne Rendón (Mapplethorpe) as three of the people who she has swindled. Additionally, Brian Benben (Private Practice, Dream On), Stephen Bishop (Being Mary Jane), Chastity Dotson (Pitch, Veronica Mars), and Denise Dowd (Secrets and Lies, Beverly Hills 90210) star. 
The story of season one is that these three scorned exes find one another and begin a quest to find the woman they all alternately view as their loving spouse and the cruel con who stole everything from them. Along the way, they learn some cons of their own, gain back some of their confidence, and of course discover the power of friendship. 
There are many twists and turns along the way which I won’t spoil for anyone who wants to watch season 1 for themselves, but it involves cons within cons within cons and unlikely teammates. 
Also - Uma Thurman as a hitwoman.
As the finale of season one had our three scorned exes riding off together into the sunset, I am very excited to see where season two leads us. Seriously, you have to watch this show. 
[But if I may very quickly rec some of my other underwatched faves: 12 Monkeys, Colony, Counterpart, Ghosted, Insecure, Kevin (Probably) Saves the World, Madam Secretary, People of Earth, Scream, Speechless, Timeless, UnREAL,You’re the Worst - ask me about my underwatched faves plz.]
10. Do you have any phobias?
Boy howdy, do I! I have OCD, which often comes with phobias as part of the anxiety which leads to some of the obsessive compulsions. [FELLOW PHOBES MIGHT WANNA SKIP THIS PART - PLEASE TAKE CARE OF YOURSELVES.]
I have a slight germ phobia which I mostly don’t go deep into because I don’t have the energy to do what I’d need to do to feel better about it so I just make myself not-think about it really hard, but the underlying anxiety is Still There. 
This is especially true of what I call “poop germs” - which is anything that has ever been inside of a bathroom ever. This makes, you know, having to use bathrooms very upsetting and problematic for me, so again, I deploy my aggressive pretending it’s not there as much as I can, but poop germs can cause me to break down into tears on a bad day. Fun times!
I’m also an emetophobe, which means I’m terrified of throwing up - a fun little phobia to have when you have constant low-grade nausea which occasionally flares up to higher-grade, lemme tell ya.
Another biggie is infestation of any kind - so any kind of insect or small animal that comes into my home. Like, I am absolutely fine seeing these critters outside where they belong - I might even oooh and aaah. But the second I see one INSIDE - I’m screaming bloody murder and waking up the entire apartment complex. 
I’ve worked real hard at being less scared of the harmless single bugs that enter a home, especially the kind that EAT other bugs - so for example I am perfectly fine with spiders (being obsessed with Charlotte’s Web as a kid helps), and even centipedes after the initial screaming over how creepy they look is done. And I’ve gotten where I look insects up on websites that identify bugs and talk about them in positive/scientific ways and have stopped panicking about certain bugs and their larvae now as I can tell which ones are and aren’t actually harmful or prone to infestation. BUT. I’m still prolly gonna scream when I initially see them because eaauughhss. 
Those are the main ones, but the fun thing about OCD is that new ones develop all the time if you don’t stay vigilant about letting those obsessive thoughts do their thang, so I try real hard to ignore those news segments and articles about bringing black lights into hotel rooms and about all of the horrible ways people are committing violent crimes these days and other terrifying and/or gross things that might creep their ways into my fear center. 
11. What’s your rarest rarepair?
Oh, good question. I don’t tend to have rarepairs because the way I fandom is deep immersion into canon and not necessarily delving into fanon/fanfic. So even my non-canon ships tend to be ones that the canon itself at least played with a little bit or that the fandom-at-large has talked about enough that I start to see it. lol
I’m having trouble even thinking about a ship I have that could be classified as rare? It would probably be something involving Spike because I ship that fool with pretty much everyone he’s ever shared screentime with because he is just so yummy, and because Marsters was just really good about getting his character to bring interesting things out of whatever characters he was interacting with, and because he’s clearly so omnisexual that he just oozes chemistry with everyone he meets, but like. I’m also definitely not the only one who sees all that about him and also is shipping him left right and center. So. I’ll just toss out Spike/Harmony because I’ve never heard of anyone else who actually liked them together ha!
Phew! That was fun. I hope all of you all who I end up tagging have as much fun with my questions (and if not, feel free to use some of pixie’s).
My questions:
What is your #mood rn?
Tell me the sweetest childhood memory you can think of.
Favorite mythological/fantastical animal/creature.
What is your favorite mode of storytelling - for example, books, movies, TV shows, graphic novels, video games, etc. - and why do you think that’s your fave form?
Star Trek, Star Wars, or Starlord? (this is not a serious question and you may feel free to expound upon all three if you wish)
Favorite type of geographical location to visit, and is it different from where you prefer to live?
Name a character that you love, but who you would probably hate in real life.
Reboots, renewals, and revivals. Are they ruining your childhood or do you love ‘em?
Tell me about your favorite cookie (or other sweet if you don’t care for cookies).
If there is one thing people could just atomatically know about you upon meeting you that would make socializing with you better or easier, what would it be?
A lot of stories based on comics posit the theory that eventually humanity will evolve into at least some humans developing super powers. Suppose this started happening today - what would the results be, do you think?
Tagging:
(and of course, please consider yourself tagged if you wanna do this - I’d tag all of you if I could but I try and just pick folks I think enjoy doing these. if I’m ever wrong - please feel free and ignore the tag. additionally - please remember to tag ME so I can see your responses! also, feel free to re-tag me in this one since the questions differ and you all know how much I love to talk about myself.)
@absolutelyiris, @dianebluegreen, @c-l-ford, @theawkwardterrier, @the-invisible-queer, @brokenyellowcrayons, @knitmeapony, @fatherjerusalem, @swordsandparasols, @dmphelps, @nightlocktime
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haroldslovekitten · 7 years
Text
Sweet Creature - Pink Series pt. 1
Hello lovelies! Here is part one of that angsty, slow burn, friends to lovers series I’m starting! The series will be called Pink and there will be 10 parts in total, each one inspired by/including one of the songs on Harry’s album.
Word Count: 5k
Enjoy! .xx -M
“So, you’re ready to get back into the game again, huh?” you ask around a mouthful of scone, crumbs tumbling from your lips as you speak.
“Yeah, I think I am. It’s been a long break, and I think I’m ready to really start writing again,” Harry smiles, the future career he’s planning seeming like more and more of a reality.
“Well, I for one, am excited. Always wanted to know what you’d do on your own.”
“You’ve heard some of my own songs,” he questions, sipping his tea.
“Well yeah, but like, none of those were written for your own personal album, H, they were more for fun. I wanna see you in your element,” you say.
Harry smiles at that, thinking about all the possible directions his music career could take now that it’s just him. The prospect is exciting and terrifying. He has to admit though, having friends like you supporting him is a huge help, and he knows the boys will be supportive too as they branch out themselves.
“What about you?” Harry asks. “What are you planning now that you’ve graduated?”
“Psssh,” you huff nervously. “Honestly, I have no fucking clue. Might just be a bum. Or maybe I can be a groupie for Harry Styles on his solo tour!” you say sarcastically, dodging the question.
“I’d be happy to take you along, you know that,” he says, but you just roll your eyes. “Really though, what are you going to do?”
“Honestly, making a career as a filmmaker isn’t exactly easy. It’s not like I can just go audition on a TV show and have my entire life made for me,” you tease. “Think I’m going to have to try to be an assistant to some hotshot first, then get my scripts out there.”
“I could talk to some people, if you want?”
“No no no no, Harry. No,” you say firmly. “I will not have you doing all my networking for me and let myself become successful just because I’m Harry Styles’ best friend. Gotta do it on my own, you know?”
“Mmmm,” he nods his head, understanding completely the need to make it on your own merit. The same thought is what’s haunting him about his solo career. “Well, let me know if there’s anything I can do to help. Even if it’s just reading your work or summat.”
“Yeah, I will,” you smile, reaching over and squeezing his hand in thanks. “So, how’s the love life?”
“You’re a blunt one aren’t you?” Harry laughs before actually considering his answer. “It’s pretty nonexistent.”
“What about that one model?”
“Yeah, that’s over. Very, very over. Just don’t think it’s the right time for me. Don’t know when it will be, but I spend all my time with people I don’t really know. Not exactly fairytale circumstances for me.”
“Well, you spend time with me. I could be your fairytale,” you giggle at the absurd thought.
“Mmm, my tea-slurping, messy-eating, in her head entirely too often fairytale,” he teases right back.
“Oh yes, I’m quite the catch,” you respond, harmless flirting being a staple of your friendship for years now.
“What about you? Any prince charmings on the horizon?”
“As if. I have a very steamy conversation with the barista at my local Starbucks every morning if that counts.”
Harry snorts at the pun and nods, knowing the feeling.
You spend the next hour talking about mutual friends, family, venting about work and media and discussing just how important it is that Harry continue to wear women’s pants.
“Never thought me wearing ladies’ jeans would be such a fucking deal,” he laughs.
“Yeah well, you look better in them than I do, so you can go fuck yourself,” you respond, laughing.
“Nonsense,” Harry says, ever the gentleman.
You pick up your phone, reading a text and gasping. Harry looks up, slightly disappointed. You must have to leave. You never get to hang out enough, in his humble opinion, but any time he spends with you feels just like old times, so he’ll take what he can get.
“James just text, the actor we hired for our short film just bailed. Got a part in a commercial and thinks his career is going to take off, so he quit this. I’ve got to go sort this out. I’m so sorry,” you apologize.
“Don’t worry about it, good luck finding someone else. If there’s anything I can do, let me know,” he tells you, genuinely wanting to help and spend more time with you.
“Actually, yeah, come to my house Friday around 8? I’ve missed hanging out with you. We’re always so busy, I never feel like I know what’s going on with you. Let’s make an effort to see each other more, yeah? Now that you’re on a break and all? It’ll be something to look forward to for the rest of the week. Get me through the hell I have to put up with at work,” you smile and Harry feels like he might blush, which is weird. He guesses he’s just not used to being the reward for a long week of work, it feels so domestic.
“Sounds perfect. I’ll bring that wine I know you like too.”
“You’re literally the sweetest,” you reply, grabbing your purse, giving him a quick kiss to the cheek, and rushing off.
Harry finishes up his food, paying for the both of you before he heads home, a silly smile on his face the whole way there. When you live the life of a popstar, sometimes normalcy is hard to find. Life is big, luxurious, fancy, and damn expensive. Having you as a best friend brings him back down to earth as he goes to coffee shops with you where you always order the cheapest thing, despite him often paying, drink the cheapest wine he’s ever bought but knows you love it, and having conversation that doesn’t revolve around this and that famous person or catty feuds with people. You’re his breath of fresh air and he’s ecstatic that you wants him around more often, possibly more ecstatic than he should be, he thinks, but he’ll ignore that for now.
The next two days go by in a blur as he begins doing a little more writing for his album, getting his brain back in music mode. Honestly, knowing he was going to spend time at your apartment on the weekend put him in an incredibly good mood. As he finds himself writing, his song is happy, chipper even, and he finally feels like strumming away on his guitar is a fun activity, rather than an obligation. Just before he jumps in the shower Friday night, he gets a text from you.
Okay, I’m super lame and went on Pinterest to find something to make tonight and I found the most complicated recipe for cheesy chicken pasta I’ve ever fucking read. Be prepared to work your butt off suzy-homemaker.
Who says I’ll be helping?
He replies with a giggle before showering, washing his newly short hair with way too much shampoo. He still hasn’t gotten used to using like half the product he used to. By the time he’s finished getting ready, he’s smelling like Tom Ford cologne and looking good enough to eat, if he does say so himself. He doesn’t like to be a particularly cocky person, but he is well aware of how swoon-worthy he looks sometimes. He checks his phone once more before leaving.
Well, unless you want burnt chicken and overcooked pasta for dinner, you’re helping.
Only because I love you x
He winces a little after he texts that. You used to tell each other you loved each other all the time. He tells most of his friends that, if he’s being honest, but they’ve been so busy lately and have kind of drifted, so he’s a little worried that you won’t feel quite as close as you used to, that it might weird you out.
Love you too, asshole. Now hurry up, I’m hungry.
Harry’s breath huffs out in a relieved laugh when he sees the response, and he promptly jumps in his car and drives over as quickly as possible. He stops by the corner off-license to grab the wine, getting two bottles because he knows you will probably drink a whole one yourself, and makes it to your place just before 8. When you open the door, you’re in short shorts and a t-shirt with holes all in it, obviously dressed down for the occasion. Harry looks down at his skinny jeans and floral button down and instantly feels overdressed.
“Someone looks fancy,” you chirp, taking the wine from him and ushering him inside.
“Yeah,” he laughs nervously.
“You know, you don’t have to rub in how unbelievably handsome you are, right? You could at least try to look like a normal person every once in awhile,” you tease, getting all of the ingredients for dinner and setting them on the counter.
“Sorry about that, ‘m just so irresistible. Do you have that spare pair of sweats I used to keep here? I could maybe dress down? Make you feel better?” he jokes.
“And what shirt would you wear?”
“Ummm, none? Or one of yours I guess?”
“Yeah, shirtless you is going to make me feel loads better. Actually…I might have the perfect thing,” you say after contemplating for a moment.
You wave him to follow you into your bedroom, the once familiar territory looking much the same as it did two years ago when he’d spend nearly every free weekend he had hanging out here. You rustle through one of your dresser drawers, pulling out a pair of sweats from the very back. Harry can’t lie that he’s a little disappointed you had these stuffed in the back of a drawer, rather than wearing them yourself every once in awhile. He pushes the thought away though, you’re is just his best friend. Why would you wear his clothes? With a smile, you goe to your closet, thumbing through shirts until you find one.
“Aha,” you giggle, handing him a small white t-shirt that has his face from about 2014 plastered on it.
“What the actual fuck is this?” he cackles.
“Told you I was a fan, you know, before we met,” you laugh.
“This picture wasn’t taken that long before we met!” he doubles over in laughter, clutching the shirt. “Plus, it could fit a 12 year old!”
“Shut up! I developed late, okay? You know very well that I look much different now than when we met!”
“Mmm, true. Now you’ve got those cuuurves,” he giggles, beginning to unbutton his shirt to change.
He doesn’t miss the blush on your cheeks as you watch him, then shake your head and leave the room to give him some privacy. Once he finishes changing, he realizes just how absolutely ridiculous he looks. For starters, the shirt used to fit a tiny 18 year old you and barely stretches over his broad frame. His face is all dimples on the fabric, and you can see his tattoos through the shirt. It’s the silliest thing he’s ever seen. But, to top it off, he hadn’t thought about the fact that the sweats were also a few years old, and much too short for him now. So now, rather than looking hot as hell in his tight jeans and designer top, he’s wearing high-water sweats and a shirt with his own fucking fetus face staring out from it. Just what he needs.
He walks back into the kitchen slowly, head hanging in mock shame.
“Oh my god,” you shout, almost immediately falling to the floor in laughter. “You look insane,” you say between harsh breaths.
“Oi, shut up. I make this look good,” he drawls ironically, which just encourages further laughter.
“Okay okay, I need a picture. I need a picture.”
“No no no no, absolutely no fucking way,” he says, eyes going wide with worry.
“It’s not like I’m going to post it, you idiot. But I need it, for posterity’s sake. Pleeease?” you whine, and how the fuck can Harry resist those big blue puppy-dog eyes.
“For your eyes only,” he says sternly, pointing his finger at you for emphasis.
“Mmm, course,” you reply in mock seriousness before grabbing your phone and snapping a quick shot with him pouting angrily.
Now that you’re both dressed down and more comfortable, you dim the lights a little bit, and begin cooking, you doing most of the chopping and slicing of things, Harry handling anything to do with fire. You could not be trusted to not burn down the house, and to be honest, he was actually quite worried about you having a knife in your hands as well. More than once, he almost intervened and said he’d cook the whole damn meal. But, you looked so happy and excited to be cooking this new recipe with him, he couldn’t be the reason that giddy smile and look of concentration left you face when it warmed his heart so much to see it there, so instead, he kept a close eye on you, making sure you didn’t lose a finger. You both wiggle around each other in the kitchen, singing along to the Motown playlist you had put on, cooking and sipping wine together in complete harmony. Harry could not honestly say that his eyes didn’t linger as you wiggled your hips to a particularly upbeat song, or that he didn’t bite his lip when you’d bend down to get another cutting board from the cabinets. More than once, he stopped himself from reaching out and pulling you close, these new feelings definitely shocking him. Sure, it’d been awhile since he’d seen you, but he’s never thought of you as anything more than a sister before. So why now, is he sitting here struggling to keep his gaze purely platonic? You really were a sweet little thing, a sweet little creature, and he couldn’t deny that nearly everything you did put a smile on his face.
“Hey, you’ll burn the chicken if you keep looking at me like that!” you shout, swatting at his arm and bringing him out of his daze. “Don’t look that hideous, do I?” you laugh somewhat nervously.
“Not at all, love, just got a bit of something on your face,” he mentions before reaching out and smearing a bit of the cream they were using for the sauce onto your cheek.
You look at him aghast, picking up one of the cherry tomatoes you were slicing and throwing it directly at his forehead.
“Come now, don’t waste food,” he scolds, to your utter shock!
“You’re the one who initiated it!”
“No need to go pointing fingers,” he grins before going back to cooking.
“Dick,” you mumble under your breath, but can’t keep the smirk from your face.
Soon enough the meal is cooked and you are already halfway through your bottle of wine and still barely tipsy. When you sit down and eat, Harry laughs at the way you stuff your face with pasta, no shame at all. He feels a little pride when you groan in satisfaction at the taste of the pasta, knowing he did most of the work. As you both eat, Harry’s phone buzzes with a text from Gemma.
Always knew you were a self-obsessed ass.  
Apparently there is a picture attached and when he opens the message he sees the photo of himself, ridiculous shirt and sweats and all. His jaw drops as he looks at you as you unsuspectingly finish one of your last bites of food.
“What?” you ask, confused by his gaze.
“I said for your eyes only, little lady!” he scolds, showing you his phone.
You nearly spit out the food in your mouth as you realize Gemma is just as bad at keeping secrets as you are.
“Come on, how could I not send that to her?”
“Fair enough,” Harry replies, knowing his sister probably enjoyed it immensely. “Never gonna trust you again though.”
“Hey, you can trust me!” you pout, taking a gulp of wine.
“Can I really? Said you’d keep that private and now my sister’s sending it to me. Tell me the truth, did you even for a second think about actually keeping it to yourself?” Harry accuses.
“Not for a second,” you laugh loudly. “But you tell me the truth, did you ever for a second really think I would?”
“Not exactly,” he laughs, admitting defeat.
“Knew we still knew each other well,” you smirk.
“Mmm, bet there are some things we don’t know though, yeah?” he asks, a suspicious grin coming across his features.
“I suppose,” you respond, giving him a questioning look.
“What do you say to a bit of truth or dare?” Harry asks and you can honestly say you’re shocked, though it could definitely be fun.
“Hmmmm, alright then,” you say after a moment’s hesitation.
“Who first?” he asks.
“Well you, obviously! You suggested it!” you laugh, taking another admittedly huge gulp of wine.
“Alright, truth,” he says, making eye contact with you as if challenging you to ask him something really good.
This is almost your least favorite part of the game, coming up with something interesting to ask the other person. You don’t want it to be so embarrassing that they’ll lie, but you also want to find out something really great while you can. After a moment, you finally come up with your question.
“How much did you hate me when we were at that bar last year, during the summer, and that really hot blond gave you her number and offered to go home with you, but you couldn’t because I was drunk off my ass and needed you to take care of me?” you ask, almost nervous of the answer. You two had had an amazing night that night. Though you can’t remember much of it, Harry caught plenty of your drunken karaoke in his living room on video and those are some of your favorite not-so-well-remembered memories.
“Honestly, I was completely angry at first, probably a little rude to her too when she offered to come home with me and I told her no. But that night was worth it, oh so worth it,” he says, laughing at the memories he still has perfectly in his head.
You flush at the thought, knowing you probably did some terribly embarrassing things that night that you don’t recall but that Harry would have in vivid memory.
“Okay, your turn! Truth or dare?” he asks, the excited light in his eyes letting you know you definitely have something to worry about.
“Hmmm, dare,” you say, though completely nervous as to what he’ll make you do.
“Call your sister and tell her you’re in love with me and that we’re running off to get married,” he says after only a moment’s pause.
“Oh my god, we’re bringing her into this?” you ask, but take out your phone nonetheless.
“Sure are,” he chuckles, his eyes on you. “And have it on speaker too.”
With a mumbled ‘shit’ you put your phone on speaker and call your sister.
“What do you want?” she answers, always the courteous one.
“Hello to you too, asshole,” you laugh.
“Hi,” she says, obviously annoyed.
“Oh my god, lighten up, what are you doing?”
“Nothing important,” she says shortly.
“Okay, well,” Harry nods at you excitedly, some of his now short hair falling onto his forehead when he does. “I...uh, I just called to tell you I’m madly in love with Harry and uh, we’re eloping,” you try not to giggle as you tell her the blatant lie.
“Am I supposed to be surprised?” she asks coldly. She’s always had a strange way of showing affection, but you know she means no harm. “Uh...yes,” you laugh awkwardly, looking at Harry whose eyes have gone wide, mouth open slightly. “Especially since it’s a total lie, Harry dared me to tell you. How could you even think I’d be in love with Harry?” you laugh, quite enjoying this dare.
“Oi, being in love with me’s not that wild of an idea, is it?” he asks, mock offended.
“Shut up,” you giggle, trying to listen to your sister.
“Oh, ok. Well, whatever. Hi, Harry,” she says after having heard his voice.
“Hiiiii,” he drawls, giggling and apparently already a little tipsy.
“Is that it?” she asks.
“Yeah, that was it,” you respond, now wanting this conversation to be over.
“Ok, well bye.”
“Bye, love you!” you say, rushing the ‘love you’ to squeak it in before she hangs up.
“Love you too,” she says quickly before ending the call.
“Oh my god,” Harry cackles, proper rocking in his seat from laughter, but you know him well enough to see that it is at least a little fake.
“She doesn’t know what she’s talking about,” you laugh, avoiding eye contact.
“Mmhmm, course not,” he giggles.
“Anyways, truth or dare?”
He doesn’t miss the way your cheeks are flushed and your eyes are avoiding his when you ask, but that could be the wine and your sleepiness after a long week. It doesn’t have to mean anything, does it?
“Ummm, dare,” he says, pinching his bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger.
You nod, thinking for a moment before finally deciding on something. This is so much easier when you have other people to discuss with before choosing your truth or dare…
“I dare you to play me the newest thing you’ve been working on,” you smile, proud of your dare. He probably would have done it anyway, but now he has to!
He stares at you for a moment, debating if he will actually do it or not. His gaze is intense, as it always is, but there’s something new behind this look. He is internally panicking, wondering what you will think of the song and also if you’ll be able to figure out it was mostly inspired by you. Of course, a few of the lines were inspired by Gemma, but you were the general idea backing the song. If you knew that...he doesn’t think he could handle it. You, on the other hand, have never heard him so nervous to sing to you, but chalk it up to the fact that this is his first solo work, the first stuff that is only him, so it carries a bit more weight.
You both move into the living room where you keep the guitar that used to be your grandpa’s but you never play, despite having tried to teach yourself  how multiple times. He picks up the guitar, tuning it quickly as he sits on the couch. You sit down on the floor below him, amping up the feeling that this is a performance, and he can’t help but stare at you, looking at him so expectantly with those eyes, those fucking eyes that drive him crazy and feel like home. Your face is full of support and admiration, and it’s the fact that he knows you will support him even if you think it’s shit that gives him the courage to really do it.
“Okay so, well this song is about Gemma really, so yeah…” he says as if excusing it somehow, to make the blow less painful if you tell him it’s awful, which you know it won’t be.
He plucks along the first few notes and already you’re in love, staring at him with the biggest smile he’s ever seen on your face, and his voice wavers a little when he begins to sing.
“Sweeeet Creature,
had another talk about where it’s goin’ wrong,
But we’re still young,
we don’t know where we’re going, but we know we belong...”
He begins and the awe on your face gives him the courage to continue the song. His belly is flip-flopping as he does, but he ignores it because here you are, listening to him sing this song, which is really all about you, though you’ll never know, and he loves your adoring eyes so much he’d sing forever if it meant you would keep looking at him that way.
“Sweet creature, sweet creature,
Wherever I go, you’ll bring me home.
Sweet creature, sweet creature,
When I run out of rope, you’ll bring me home…”
He continues and he swears to god he’s getting tears in his eyes and he’s never sang this as emotionally as he is right now and he really needs to bring it back before he scares you. One glance at you, with a small smile and watery eyes as you look at him like he put the stars in the sky makes his heart jump and he finishes the song with as much precision and passion as he can muster, wanting nothing more than for you to like it.
When he’s done, he sits in silence, not making eye contact with you, afraid of your reaction and wanting you to have space to hate it if you do.
“Harry,” you whisper, bringing your fingers up to your mouth, covering it slightly. “That was...incredible.”
You can see the breath he’s been holding leave his body in relief as he finally looks at you, and he looks like a child again, seeking approval, wanting to be liked, and boy, do you like him.
“You’re not jus’ sayin…” he trails off before you can let him finish.
“Harry, no. Don’t you dare do that. Don’t doubt yourself for a second. I’m your best friend, I of all people would be completely honest with you if it sucked and it definitely doesn’t suck, not even a little. That’s the sweetest most heartfelt song I’ve ever heard, H. Have you sung it to Gemma yet? I know she’ll adore it knowing you wrote it about her,” you say, only imagining what she’d think of it. She’d probably tear up, and you knew Gemma - she wasn’t one for tears.
“You really think it’s good?” he asks, needing as much praise as you’re willing to give.
“Absolutely stunning, Harry, just like everything you do,” you respond.
His stomach is in knots, his face blushing and whether that’s from nerves from performing new material or just the fact that he performed for you and you loved it, he’ll never be completely sure.
“I haven’t told Gemma yet, don’t think she’d care that much,” he huffs, a small chuckle leaving his lips.
“Trust me, H, if I had someone write a song like that about me, I’d about die of happiness, she’s going to love it,” you soothe him.
He tries to control his reaction to your last statement, tries to keep himself from muttering anything about the true inspiration to the song, and he keeps a good lid on it, still not completely sure why he’s so nervous to tell you. You are his best friend after all, it’s not surprising that you bring him back down to earth, that you are a super important influence in his life, and that he’d write a song about you. It doesn’t seem crazy at all, actually, but yet, he knows how he felt while writing that song, knows how he felt while performing it, and honestly, those feelings are much too intimate, even for best friends, he thinks. It’s really something he’s got to get sorted out and soon if you’re to be spending so much more time together now that he has more control over his schedule.
Sensing his discomfort, you get up from the floor, take the guitar from him and settle down next to him on your couch. He sighs when he feels your body next to his. Things are good, they are the same, nothing has changed just because you heard the song, he’s going to be okay, you’re both going to be fine, he tells himself over and over as you turn on the television and rest your head on his shoulder.
“Feels a little silly playing truth or dare after you unloaded that masterpiece on me,” you say, flicking through channels.
“Mmm, yeah, I suppose,” he agrees, wrapping one arm around your shoulders carefully so as not to cross any ‘best-friends don’t do that’ lines.
You can feel his body tense slightly when the channel lands on a rom-com, Friends with Benefits it’s called, with Justin Timberlake and Mila Kunis, so you leave it at that, assuming his reaction means he likes the film.
As he sits next to you, your body pressed against his and watches this film about two best-friends having lots of wild sex and ultimately falling in love, his body simply can’t relax. He wonders what’s going through your brain, if you’re having the same kind of ‘maybe we should try that’ thoughts that he’s having. If you’re busy staring at the glorious creature that is Justin Timberlake or if your mind is focused on the way his body feels next to yours, because he can say with absolute certainty that he hasn’t been able to pay Mila Kunis a second of attention with you against him like this. He runs his thumb along the skin of your shoulder soothingly and you nustle deeper into him, your sweet smelling vanilla perfume wafting into his nostrils and absolutely intoxicating him. He really needs to get a lock on what he’s feeling, if these are real feelings, if they’re just lust, missing you as a friend since it’s been so long since you hung out like this, or if he just desperately needs some physical attention from a female. Yeah...he decides, that’s what it is. He hasn’t been laid in at least 3 months, too busy with family and setting things up for work to worry about it and now, having you here like this is reminding him of what he’s missing. That’s it, nothing serious. You’re just a woman and he can’t help feel this way, even if you are best-friends. But that’s all you are and all you’ll ever be - friends. And he’s completely okay with that...he thinks.
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fanciful-follies · 7 years
Text
Hamburr oneshot inspired by and heavily drawn from this fairytale. Warnings for character death and brief mentions of blood below.
From his nest high in the oak tree, Aaron peeked through the leaves and watched the young human wander into the garden, looking forlorn with anguish etched into the lines of his face, so different from the passion and life that Aaron has grown to cherish. 
This human first wandered into Aaron’s garden weeks ago, voice loud and brash, so unlike Aaron’s own Nightingale song, but beautiful all the same. It had made Aaron spread his wings and flutter closer, head tilting as he listened, completely captivated.
It took long days and nights of close inspection for Aaron to finally reveal himself. He had hears stories of humans, horrible stories, stories of them hunting creatures like Aaron. But Aaron was curious. So one day he flew down from his branch and into the lush grass, shifting his form to be more human, as his parents had taught him long ago. 
His wings had remained, feathers scattered across his shoulders and arms, and he was unsteady on his legs, preferring flight, but he had stumbled his way over to the human quietly, not wanting to scare him. Humans were easily startled.  
And the human was startled, at first. Brown eyes wide, lips hanging open as he stood up in the grass, watching Aaron with a wary expression. But he didn’t run, and Aaron came closer.
He couldn’t speak to the human, had never learned their language, the sounds short and flat, sounding unnatural on Aaron’s tongue. He could only understand them. But he spoke his own language to the human, long melodic crescendo’s that seemed to vibrate through the air.
The human, of course, did not understand. Human’s so rarely bothered to learn languages other than their own, but he listened to Aaron, expression growing fascinated, making Aaron ruffle his wings in satisfaction. At least the human had taste.
Their first meeting had been brief, Aaron flitting away back into the safety of his tree after too long, still unsure. But the human kept coming back, and Aaron kept going down to meet him.
Then the human started talking to him, even introduced himself as Alexander, a name that Aaron repeated back in his own language, the note ringing out long and sweet, making Alexander’s eyes light up. Aaron had tried to give his name, wanting to hear Alexander say it, but Alexander’s responding whistle, a sad attempt at recreating Aaron’s own, made Aaron cringe, chittering his displeasure. 
Alexander had laughed after that, seeming to understand his failure, and apologized. 
He came every day after that, telling Aaron about his day, of the things he had seen and the stories he had read, the people he had met. Aaron told him of his day as well, about the trees he’d traveled to and the way the wind felt under his wings.
Aaron started to grow fond of Alexander, his heart fluttering just as fast as his wings whenever the human entered the garden. 
That’s why he immediately grew concerned when Alexander walked into the garden, tears threatening to spill from those eyes that Aaron had come to adore. 
“Oh, Nightingale,” Alexander cries when he sees Aaron emerge from the trees. “I am in torment! How can happiness depend on such little things? I am at a loss.”
Aaron comes closer, tilting his head and brushing one of his wings over Alexander’s shoulders, hoping the human would understand his confusion. He hates seeing him with tears in his eyes. His smile is so lovely.
“The Prince gives a ball tomorrow night,” Alexander tell him, voice tight with sadness. “And my love of many months, Eliza, will be in attendance. I asked her hand for every dance, but I was refused!”
Aaron lets his voice ring out low at that, chest aching with sympathy. How could someone refuse Alexander? He is the prettiest human Aaron has ever seen. He would give anything to dance with him, to hold him.
“She said only if I bring her a red rose will she dance with me,” Alexander continues, his watery eyes locking on Aaron’s, despair spilling from them. “Only if I bring her a red rose shall I hold her in my arms. Only then will she lean her head upon my shoulder, her delicate hand clasped in mine. Only with a red rose will my heart finally know true love.”
Love. 
Aaron moves his wings at that, the word sounding lovely coming from Alexander’s lips. He knows this word. Has sung about it for hours during the night, his song soaring high into the dark sky until dawn came. Aaron likes this word, has always wondered about its meaning. He does not think he has ever witnessed it.
Alexander looks up at Aaron with sadness in his gaze. “But there is no red rose in my garden, so my Eliza will not have me. She will have no want of me, and my heart will surely break from grief.” 
“Here at last is what love is,” thinks Aaron, still inspecting Alexander closely. “Night after night have I sung of it, though I knew it not. But now I know. This small human is love, it is him that night after night I have sung of, telling the stars of him. Now I see him. Now I see love.”
Aaron moves closer to Alexander, wanting to convey this newfound discovery but unsure of how. He does not know how humans express love. But he wraps a wing around Alexander, loving how his brown feathers look pressed against Alexander’s skin.
“You are my only friend,” Alexander tells him, voice low and filled with tears. “You alone will come to me whenever I need you. If only my Eliza were like you,” Alexander whispers, fingers trailing along Aaron’s wing. “But she requires a red rose, and I have none, so I will not have her.”
Aaron blinks as Alexander breaks into fresh tears, his sobs echoing around the garden, making other creatures who live there start to emerge from their homes, all of them curious and wary of this strange sound.
“Why is he weeping?” asks a small tree nymph, emerging from the oak tree to stare at Alexander. 
“Why, indeed?” asks a fairy, fluttering about after a sunbeam but coming to hover near Aaron as well.  
“Why, indeed?” comes the whisper from a daisy to its neighbor, but Aaron catches the flower’s question anyway.
“He is weeping for a red rose,” Aaron tells them all, holding Alexander against him, his own heart starting to break as the human continues to cry. “He is weeping for love.”
The other creatures seem to find this answer unsatisfactory, disappearing back into the trees and leaving them alone. But Aaron understands Alexander’s sorrow, understands the pain that love can bring when it is not returned. 
“What I sing of, he suffers,” Aaron thinks to himself. “What is joy to me, is torment to him.” He thinks that love should be wonderful, not a cause for tears. He does not understand how it can be gotten with something so insignificant as a red rose. But maybe that is how it is in human rituals of love.
Aaron moves his wings closer around Alexander, but uses his hands to tilt the human’s face up, chest tightening at the flushed skin of his cheeks, the tears staining his skin. “Be happy,” Aaron tells him. “Cry no more, for I will bring you a rose. I will bring you love.” 
But Alexander just blinks up at him, not understanding. He smiles, though, the Nightingales voice always bringing him a sense of peace and comfort. He presses his lips to Aaron’s own cheek, the feeling making Aaron hum low in his throat. But then his human is disentangling himself from his embrace, leaving with promises to return the next day.
That night, Aaron sits perched in his tree, thinking of how he can bring Alexander love and joy. 
After some time, he spreads his brown wings for flight, soaring easily into the air. He passes through the garden like a shadow, eyes sharp as he searches for what he needs. Eventually he spots it, a small rose tree, and Aaron flaps his wings until he reaches it, alighting onto one of the branches. 
“Give me a red rose,” he begs, “and I will sing you my sweetest song.” 
But the tree shakes its head.
“My roses are white,” it answers, voice deep. “But go to my brother who grows across the garden, and perhaps he will give you what you want.”
So Aaron does, landing on the branches of another rose tree, and asks again.
“My roses are yellow,” the tree answers, voice filled with regret. “But go to my my other brother, who grows beneath your human’s window, and perhaps he will give you what you want.”
Aaron flies there, and asks for the third time. “Give me a red rose, and I will sing you my sweetest song.” But again, for the third time, the tree shakes its head.
“While my roses are red,” the tree starts,“the winter air has chilled my veins, and the frigid frost has nipped my buds, killing them, and I shall have no red roses this year, none at all.”
“One rose is all I need,” Aaron pleads, heart starting to break at the thought of failing Alexander. “One red rose for love. There must be a way. Please.”
The tree shakes its branches, some of them drooping. But then it speaks lowly, and Aaron strains to listen. “There is a way, but it is so terrible that it causes me pain to tell you.” 
“I am not afraid,” Aaron murmurs.
“If you desire a red rose,” continues the tree, “you must will it to life out of music by moonlight. But then you must stain it red with your own heart’s-blood.”
“How is this to be done?” Aaron asks.
“You must sing to me with your chest pressed against a thorn. All night long you must sing to me, and the thorn will pierce your heart, little Nightingale, and your life-blood will flow into my veins, and become mine. Only this will give you a red rose.”
Aaron thinks, teetering on the branch. It seems a high price to pay, but then Alexander’s eyes come to Aaron’s mind, and his heart flutters. Surely love is worth more than life. 
And what is the heart of a bird compared to the heart of a man?
“It is a burden worth bearing,” Aaron tells the tree, glancing up at the night sky to see the moon already shining. “I am ready.”
“Think wisely, little Nightingale. You will not wake.”
“But my Alexander will have love,” Aaron murmurs. “I am ready.”
“Then sing.”
Aaron presses his chest to one of the thorns, the pricking sensation only distracting him for a moment before he begins to sing, the tree listening to his song along with the moon and the stars.
He sings all night long, and all the while the thorn goes deeper and deeper into his chest, but all Aaron is thinking of is Alexander.
He sings of him, of his eyes and his hair, of his voice and his smile. Aaron sings and sings, thinking he might not ever stop, for Alexander fills him with so much love it can never end. 
“Press closer, little Nightingale,” cries the tree, “or the morning will come before the rose is finished.” 
So Aaron presses closer, letting his song grow louder and louder. He watches as a delicate pink flush came into the petals of the rose, just like the flush Aaron has seen on Alexander’s face. 
He presses closer still, and the thorn touches Aaron’s heart. A fierce pang shoots through him, but Aaron keeps singing, keeping Alexander’s face in his mind. He sings for him, only him.
Finally the rose turns crimson, its petals a deep red, red as Aaron’s blood, red as is heart, red as his love for Alexander. 
He can hear his song growing fainter, the sounds starting to get stuck in his throat, but still Aaron sings, a smile on his face, for he succeeded. He has given Alexander love.
He gives one last burst of music, the note hanging in the air, lingering in the slowly brightening sky. The red rose hears it, feels it, and it opens its petals fully to the morning breeze. 
“You have done it,” cries the tree. “You have created a red rose!”
But Aaron does not hear, for he is lying dead in the long grass, the thorn lodged in his heart.
-
When the sun starts its ascent into the sky, Alexander pulls the covers from his body, and moves to the window, inhaling the morning air. But there is something that catches his eye, something that was not there before. 
“Can this be real?” He asks, quickly making his way outside, heart pounding as his eyes land on the red rose that had caught his eye from his bedroom window. “I have never seen any rose like this one! Never in my life, nor in any of the books I have read.” He plucks it and brings it closer to his eyes. “It is so beautiful that I am sure it can only be the product of true love.” 
With that he rushes to his love’s house, knocking on her door and feeling his breath catch as she opens it moments later, looking surprised to see him so early in the day.
“Eliza, my love,” Alexander begins, holding out the rose. “I have brought you the reddest rose in all the world. You will wear it tonight beside your heart as we dance together. Now you can see how much I love you.”
But Eliza frowns at the rose, not extending a hand to take it from his grasp. “This rose is too red,” she tells him. “It is not of just romance, but of pain. Of unrequited love. Of a love lost. This rose is not for me. I can not accept it.” And then she retreats back into her house, leaving Alexander standing alone in the street.
And Alexander trudges back to his home, turning into the garden at the last moment, his feet taking him to the large oak tree that stands in the middle where he has so often gone.
He sits in the grass and waits, red rose still in his hand. He waits, and waits, but his Nightingale never comes, and Alexander feels disappointment and grief welling up inside him, threatening to escape.
“Where is my Nightingale,” Alexander cries out, tilting his head back to look around the garden, which feels empty and cold without his friend. “ I am lonely, and in need of him. Where is he?”
The oak tree in front of him creaks and groans, and Alexander’s eyes stray to it, silent as he waits, the air suddenly feeling alive. Then the tree starts to speak, its voice grave but well-versed in the human language.
“Your Nightingale is gone,” it tells him.
“Gone? Gone where? To another garden?”
“To the garden in the heavens, to soar in the sky for all of time.”
Alexander’s blood runs cold, and he clings to the rose in his hand. “What happened to him? Oh, please, tell me what happened.” Guilt claws at Alexander, guilt at leaving his friend alone, and sorrow at the idea of never seeing him again.
“He traded life for love. That red rose you hold in your hand is all that remains, brought to life from his own heart.”
Alexander feels a tears slip down his cheek as he stares at the red rose, remembering what Eliza had said, that the rose was not hers, that it was a rose of unrequited love.
Alexander sinks to his knees, clutching the rose to his chest. “I have been blind,” he cries, more tears slipping from his eyes and onto the petals of the rose. “I have lost two loves today, but only one was real, and only one is gone from me forever.”
He feels what he thinks is a leaf against his skin, and he glances up at the oak tree, which seems to be leaning closer to him. 
“Do not weep, for your Nightingale ached at your tears. He soared through this garden from tree to tree, pricked his own heart with a thorn so that you would know love and joy.”
“And I will honor him,” Alexander tells the oak tree, voice trembling. “Never again will I let love rest on anything but emotion and loyalty. Never again will I let true love slip through my fingers due to my own folly.”
The oak tree is silent after that, but Alexander stands, walking back into his home and placing his red rose in a vase, fresh tears still flowing from his eyes as his fingers stroke the crimson petals. 
The rose remains in Alexander’s home for years after, never wilting or dying, an eternal reminder of what true love is.
An eternal reminder of the Nightingale, and the song of love he sang for his human. 
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