#i do like how the hair colour turned out tbf

[liminalh-creations]

Janvier ‘Jen’ Magritte (late July 2010)

“Jeder Mensch ist ein Abgrund. Es schwindelt einem, wenn man in ihn hinabsieht.” - Georg Büchner, Wozyeck

(Every human is an Abyss. It dazes you, to gaze into the depths.)

here she is, “official” art for miss janvier magritte!

i kept futzing with this and had to eventually tell myself that this is just a sketch and i dont need to take it so seriously lmao

fun fact: phone size is historically accurate

click below for a few more relevant songs & a character bio, i guess

Janvier Magritte - she/her Belgian-Turkish (father was Wallonian-Flemish mixed; mother was born in Turkey but raised in Belgium after her family immigrated) DOB: 28/07/1980 height: 187 cm

tiefe Brunnen muss man graben wenn man klares Wasser will... Rosenrot, oh Rosenrot tiefe Wasser sind nicht still. - Rammstein, Rosenrot

skill notes: - engineer (software, hardware, electronics, IT) - good at 'making do’ with absolutely minimal resources - highly observant - very fast learner if she cares about something (especially with languages) - violent driver - good at multitasking

Mind is willing, soul remains, This woman cannot be saved from the draw into the fire. - Pendulum, Propane Nightmares

random other details: - very online - Grand Marnier won’t be her name for long - put a lot of effort into modelling her motorcycle after the one from Akira - listens to Nightcall by Kavinsky like every fucking day - preferred fiction genres: science fiction, cyberpunk, space-anything, horror - preferred music genres (chronologically): coldwave, gothic rock, industrial, alt rock, synthwave, outrun, IDM, horror film scores. general preference for modern European & Arabic music. also happily adopts entire discographies regardless of genre, if people she is fond of introduce them to her - started HRT by stealing from pharmacies in the mid-1990s - also started driving by stealing cars off the side of the road in the mid-1990s - violently bisexual & tends to bring out the worst in her partners - has 1 brother (Deniz, born 1989) and 2 half-siblings (Tamara, born 1996 & Ariaan, born 1999) - bonus: playlist with songs from her youth (link) (she was not doing well, lol)

I guess I got bad instincts! 'cause I'm in sync with the worst of us, and I don't really mind burning in hell - Kavinsky, Renegade

[writefightandflightclub]

The light is blinding (Joel Miller x fem!reader)

Summary: When he's hurt, you offer to wash Joel's hair for him. Turns out there may be other forms of comfort you can offer him too.

Genres: character study; angst (sorta); hurt/comfort; SMUT. Joel's POV.

Author's note: I watched TLOU ep 1 last night, then made bad choices today in favour of hyperfocussing on this 8k Joel fic. I mean, this was sort of inevitable tbf. We've been handed a sad, scruffy, brown-eyed, dusty apocalypse DILF, and there was no chance of me not adopting him as a blorbo. Anyway, this is my first attempt at Joel, I wrote this in a trance so god knows what it says and I haven't spent any time on editing/correcting. Can't promise it's any good, but if you want to wash his hair as much as I do (lol) maybe you'll enjoy it, who knows. P.s. I promise it does get super smutty. You just have to survive the extensive internal monologue and many rounds of haircare first. (I'm just like that :P)

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Minors interacting will be blocked. EXPLICIT SMUT (unprotected p in v sex, totally ignoring practicalities like birth control in the apocalypse bc we can); canon-typical themes such as grief, apocalypse, infection/disease, trauma, injury. SPOILERS - if you know the core plot points or have seen episode one you'll be okay. Joel's POV.

Word count: 8.2k

GIF by @joelmjller (Pls lemme know if you'd like me to remove this!)

How did he get here, exactly? All stretched out on his back, your careful fingers twining through his wetted, grizzled hair?

Well, he supposes he got here because a smuggling deal had gone sideways - like usual.

He got here, because he’s getting too old for this shit, and because someone precisely young enough for this shit had garnered the advantage just long enough to land a gun barrel blow to his head. A blow which then made room for all manner of nonsense, of course; like Joel being teep kicked into a desk. The desk - owing to its sturdy construction and deliciously planed hardwood - had withstood the blow. Joel’s body, however -far less sturdily constructed - had reacted far less favourably to that particular transaction.

Most of all though, cracked ribs and busted shoulder aside, Joel is here, because of you. He is here, because you offered to wash his hair.

Joel isn’t a clean man, by any stretch. Who could be anymore, with the way things are? In truth, he’s forgotten what it’s like not to be coated with a layer of dirt and smoke and ash. But apparently, even in the midst of an apocalypse, the dried-in, caked-up, days old blood matting his hair had left something to be desired.

He’d agreed to your offer only because - honestly - it was starting to itch. Because this time he truly couldn’t do it himself, the searing pain in his ribs seeing to that. Making sure he couldn’t quite raise his arm high enough or dip his head low enough to get the job done.

He’d agreed to your offer, in part, because he thought you would be quick. And - he now realises - you are being anything but.

You have him stretched out on his back, on a repurposed dentist chair. The worn, dark green leather creaks beneath him as he adjusts, positioning himself just so. You’ve installed a makeshift neck rest and basin to the rear of the chair, and Joel’s head is currently dipped backwards into the warm water, your fingers diligently combing through the strands to release the debris and muck.

You use a cup to cascade the water from the basin over his head, cupping it with the other hand to guard his face and neck from any rogue rivulets. Then, you ease your fingertips over his scalp, massaging in circles, being extra careful -he notes- around his recently closed wound.

Yes, to Joel’s dismay, you are taking your time. You are being so thorough and so attentive, in fact, that Joel even wonders if you will end up washing the gray right out of his hair - Joel’d never been wholly convinced that his newly-developed colouring was ever anything more than a thick, impenetrable layer of dirt and ash.

You hum thoughtfully, a sweet, innocuous note as you assess your next step. “I’m switching out the water, okay?”

That doesn’t sound okay at all. That doesn’t sound done. And Joel had thought that this would be quick. Had needed this to be quick.

Before he can grunt an answer though, you are winding a towel around his hair, presumably attempting to save the drips from reaching the floor as you swap out one basin for another, setting down the one now filled with muddy brown water, and bending carefully to lift a second steaming basin of fresh water on to your makeshift plinth.

He needs to stop this here. “That’ll do,” he says gruffly, motioning to sit up -carefully- despite the pain in his ribs.

“Lie back,” you insist, the sound of your voice muffled through the towel wound over his ears but soothing nevertheless. “I’ve only managed to rinse out the blood and bird’s nests so far. We still need to wash and condition.”

Joel would protest more vigorously -means to, in fact- but the soft smile on your face dissolves him like sugar before he can do so.

He frowns though, for good measure. “Fine. Just make it quick.”

“The quicker you relax Joel,” you sing song, “the faster I’ll let you out of my seat. Deal?”

He grunts. He doesn’t relax. He can’t relax.

“And,” you add playfully, as if reading his mind. “If you can’t relax, you’d better learn fast to fake it.”

Joel sighs deeply in frustration as he lies back, and you usher him gently into position. However, the slow, deep breath he expels does genuinely serve to sink him more deeply into the chair. Does force him to release just a jot of the tension snaking through his taut muscles.

You hum again, softly, in satisfaction, and he thinks he can even hear a smile on your mouth as you foam his hair with some sweet-smelling product, your fingers resuming their careful ministrations across his scalp.

It’s nice, he notes, unwilling as he is to admit it. Your touch could knock him out better than a barrel full of oxy and a bottle of the good stuff. He almost lets himself enjoy it - an attractive woman like you working your hands into his hair, massaging with your thumbs, your fingers, your palms. Applying pressure and sensation, even into the tight muscles in his neck. Loosening some of the tension at his temples. He even consciously relaxes his forehead, feeling his frown soften. Closing his eyes instead of fixing his stare on the broken picture rail he’s sure he could fix with a few tools and a little bit of effort.

He breathes more deeply as he closes his eyes, focussing in on the sensation of your touch. On the scents flooding his nose. Floral and sweet and fruity. It smells of you, and he breathes it deeply. He tries not to think about how his pillow will smell of you later.

It shouldn’t be possible for you to smell as good as you do, Joel ponders. You even have him wondering whether perhaps he’s not the only game in town. Whether there’s another smuggler dealing in contraband which hasn’t even occurred to him to barter with. Perfumes and oils and essences. He doubts that you would be mixed up in smuggling, but he doesn’t doubt that you are capable of far more than surface-level assessments might suggest.

After all, people only survive this long with one of two things: brutality, or blind luck - and no-one is that lucky that they’ve never had to dabble in the former. Everyone who has made it this far is only out for themselves.

Therefore, who knows what secrets you hide behind your sweet facade, Joel contemplates. Though, if he did have to believe there was anyone selfless left on god’s blighted earth? If he had to believe in someone, Joel would bet cards on it being you.

He sucks in another long, slow breath, and the scent of you envelops him all over again. For a moment, he finds himself wanting to believe in you. But it’s never too long before he recalls he gave up a long time ago on believing in anything. Anything except his wits and his fists and his gun, at least.

“That’s it Joel,” you praise as he relaxes - uncoils - just a shade, and the smooth tone of your voice slides right under his skin. The thought that you want to make him feel good makes him tingle. Makes him forget - almost - that he doesn’t deserve that.

Meanwhile, your deft fingers and thumbs continue to work nimbly into him, sliding over the contours and bones and ridges of his skull. Applying a warm, steady pressure against the muscles at the nape of his neck. Circling your thumb against a spot that sends a buzzing, suffusing warmth skittering down the length of his spine. Blooming through him - and, it has been so long. So long since Joel felt anything resembling pleasure that when he feels this warm honey trail down his back, an involuntary moan overspills his parted lips.

Shit. There's no chance that you didn't hear that.

The moan reverberates in the tight, quiet room. Lingers far longer than it sounds out for. Lingers, despite how quickly Joel cuts it short - clamping his mouth shut and hoping he can pass it off as a grunt or some expulsion of pain from shifting in his chair.

Your fingers halt, still tangled in his hair. “D-Do you want me to stop?” There is a heat in your tone, Joel thinks, the vowels and consonants warm and full like the pop and crackle of a hearth.

It's new. And it occurs to him, ever so suddenly, that maybe you are enjoying this too? Touching him?

After all, he’s not insisting upon it. Didn’t suggest it. Has not attempted to prolong it. And yet, you continue, working diligently. Soothing him. Freely offering your praise and those little, contented hums - those small, burgeoning sounds which make his fingertips ache to have your skin beneath them, so that he can keep on making your lips overspill with those sweet sounds of satisfaction.

Indeed, Joel’s hair has got to be cleaner now than it’s ever been. He’s been in your chair longer than he ever intended - and you don’t seem to be working any other angle. Don’t seem to be after any contraband that he can get his hands on. Haven’t submitted any requests. Fished for any information.

Perhaps then, you are enjoying him. Enjoying performing this act of service for him - though god knows why. Perhaps you are even looking down at his body right now while he’s all laid out for you in this worn-out chair. His long limbs stretched out, clothes tugging taut over his tight, muscular frame. Perhaps you like looking at him like this, his hair slicked back and away from his sharp face and his hawkish nose, watching the twist and pull of the muscles as he sets his jaw - needing to consolidate all of his resolve simply to resist your sweet, sugary touches. Perhaps you liked when you watched his eyes flutter closed under your touch. When you watched his lips part with that sound. That throaty, undone moan, all for you.

Joel’s not stupid.

He’s clocked the way you look at him sometimes. With this gentle, inviting hunger. The way you always make the effort to come over and speak with him whenever opportunity presents itself. The way your appealing body bends to him like a flower to its sun, as though he has anything nourishing about him. As though he has anything but darkness to offer.

He’s clocked you too. Has seen the way kindness and warmth dance across your features like a living, licking flame. Has seen you glow brightly too with a steady, constant fire, which he is sure must run hotter and more fierce beneath the surface than any would estimate. He had noticed too, of course, the swell and contours of your body, hiding beneath your clothes in all the places he most enjoys.

He’s thought before how he’d like to find out where the hunger in your eyes could take him if he chased it; but in the end he knows there is never any further to go than here. That every road is a dead end since the world ended. That the quarantine zone is the only place with walls more impenetrable than his own.

Still; he’s thought about you more than he’d care to admit. To Tommy. To Tess. To you. To himself. Has thought about the way your lips might feel on his. How soft and warm your body might be if he held it up against him. The way his calloused hands might look with his fingers sunk into your flesh, grabbing up handfuls of you like you are his daily bread - the very thing he needs to survive.

Of burying his head between your thighs for hours and trying to suck the impossible sweetness out of you, as though, somehow, he could then begin to understand how someone as good as you is capable of existing in a world as shitty and cruel as this.

He’s had darker thoughts too though. Thoughts of filling you rough and sudden - if you’d let him. Of burying his anger in you with every thrust, deep enough that he could attempt to forget it. Of letting you take his rage from him for just a few moments - as if it could ever truly leave him for a moment longer than that.

But of course, in actuality, he’s done none of that. Joel hasn’t pulled on a single one of those threads. He hasn’t unravelled.

Instead, for the most part, Joel has simply ignored you. Ignored you, because that’s the precisely the last thing he wants to do. Ignored you, because the safest option - Joel has established - is usually to give himself the opposite of whatever he thinks he wants.

That is… he’s ignored you until today. Until you offered to wash his hair. A simple yet towering offer of kindness in a world blighted by dark and rot. An offer that feels like more than he deserves when all he’s ever done for you is to give you the brush off. To answer you tersely, his aim with every interaction to have it over quick.

Still… he’d said yes. Or, at least, he’d declined to protest. Had nodded. Had followed you.

If he’s being honest with himself, he could have asked Tommy to help him, even if he was trying to obscure the severity of his latest injuries from his dear ol’ brother. Even Tess - she’d have done it. With plenty of griping, but she would have done it.

The truth is though, that he wanted it to be you. Needed it to be you. He’d gravitated towards you, even before he knew what you might be prepared to give him. Even without any trade to offer. For you, he’d unravelled. Just a little; in a moment of weakness. He hasn’t slept and he hasn’t succeeded and he hasn’t succumbed for so long, that he finally slipped. Finally gave into one of his wants. Finally gave in to what he wanted most. To seat himself in front of the warm hearth of you and to feel a little god dang comfort.

Joel opens his eyes, expression washing clean with a new resolve, and your fingers still frozen in his hair. He fixes his gaze on the broken picture rail. Precisely at the point where it fractures. Where it needs fixing. He needs a little fixing too, he thinks. He’s sure now, that he’s chosen the right tool for the job, when not another damn thing could do it.

“No,” he finally responds, his voice unwavering, blinking his bitter coffee eyes, sweetened already by your sugar. A gentle gulp sinking down the corded column of his neck. “I don’t want you to stop.”

From behind and above him, he hears you release a breath as though you may have been holding one, tight in your chest, and you slide your fingers from his hair. “Good.” Good. The word rattles pleasantly in his chest when you say it. “We’ll do your conditioner next.”

And, for the first time, Joel unclenches his fingers from where they have been curled around the arm rests of the chair, clinging on to the lip until his knuckles had turned white.

This time - for all he can tell via his scalp - your touch feels a little bolder. A little looser. You even drag your nails over his head now, applying long, sizzling scratches which send that same buzzy warmth snaking down his back. You massage him more eagerly, blood flooding to his crotch as he thinks about having your strong, supple, precise hands work him in other places. He imagines, as your nails graze over him, how you might claw harsh stripes down his back in a moment of ecstasy. As your thumb massages a circle into the spot behind his ear, imagines how you might circle the soft pad of it around the swollen head of his cock, collecting up the glistening bead of precum as he leaks for you. Imagines, as you carefully pour a cup of warm, cascading water over his head, how he could bathe himself with the warmth of your skin on his. Imagines, as he hears the subtle wet sounds created as you scrunch sweet-smelling elixirs into his hair, how it might sound if your own juices were being coaxed out of you by his fingers until they began to drip, working down his veined, muscled forearm.

He allows himself to imagine everything he plans to deny himself. He at least allows himself to have that.

“That temperature still okay for you?” you ask as you lift the cup of water once again, fracturing his sordid daydreams.

Joel gives a terse grunt. It’s all he can manage.

“So,” you ask breezily. “Are you going anywhere nice for your holidays?”

It takes Joel a few moments to realise just what you’re doing. To twig. It’s a decade - shit, more - since he had a haircut like that, so it takes him a while to pick up that you’re echoing the banal small talk which used to occur as you sat down in the barber chair. Those memory cogs are stiff. He hasn’t turned them in a long time. He doesn’t want to remember that there was anything before. At least, not a lot of it.

Still, your bit takes him by surprise. It’s such a ludicrous contrast that it makes him laugh to think about how things have changed. Who can even go on holiday now? You can’t even leave the quarantine zone. Shit. Even if you could, you wouldn’t want to. And so, Joel laughs. He laughs and he barely recognises the sound from his own mouth. He laughs… and he instantly regrets it, because he knows better than to pull on any of those threads.

But; it’s too late now.

He laughs and you mirror him, the sound melodious and hopeful, and all of a sudden Joel can imagine everything he’s been avoiding you for.

He hasn’t been avoiding you because he wants to fuck you - not really. He’s fucked plenty of folk, and he’s moved on.

He’s avoiding you, because of how easily he can imagine you in a summer dress, twirling in the yard to show it off to him. How easily he can imagine you sitting on a front porch gripping your morning cup of coffee and the sun shining on your face as you smile up at him. How easily he can imagine you lifting a tray of freshly baked cookies out of the oven, batting his hand away as he steals one before it cools.

Truthfully, he has no idea whether you ever did a single one of those things before - before all this. He doesn’t even really care whether you did. He knows it’s a flat, idealised, empty picture postcard version of you.

But, even so, it still hurts.

It still hurts, because of just how easily he could imagine waking up beside you in his house.

The house that no longer exists.

The house with Sarah in it.

And that’s why he never pulls on that thread.

That’s why he avoids you.

That’s why this can never work.

Because you?

You make him remember all the sweet things. All the sweet things the world used to contain before the rot and the death and despair painted over everything. Infected it.

You make him remember the taste of fresh mangoes. The feeling of sand beneath his feet and waves washing over his toes. Saturdays at the mall. Picking away at his guitar in the living room. The easy jubilation of ball games on the TV on Sundays, with Tommy in the kitchen plating up chicken wings. Of bad movie nights. Of mornings spent around the kitchen table, and his daughter cooking up birthday pancakes.

That’s why he can’t ever start to be happy with you. Why he can’t pull on that thread; because all the good things in life are attached to it. All tied and knotted and tangled up with “before”.

When he dreams of you - when he lets himself - he dreams of then too.

He has to, doesn’t he? Because the past is the only place to build a future when the present is apocalyptic, isn’t it? When you are the only thing he hasn’t lost yet, and everything else -pretty much- is already dead and gone.

It kills him that he found you now.

Found you too late.

It kills him because Sarah would have loved you, and because he thinks he could have too.

You don’t know all of this, of course. You can’t ever know this. And so, your oblivious fingers continue touching him, until he feels another moan begin to spool itself tight in his chest, getting ready to unravel. This time though, he is less sure whether it is a moan of pleasure or of anguish. More and more these days, those two feelings have been starting to feel precisely the same.

“Can we move this along?” he asks gruffly, some of the weight settling back into his brow. He asks, predictably, for the opposite of what he wants. It has to be like that. There’s no other road anymore.

“We can stop whenever you like but… that’s a shame.”

His frown deepens. “Why?”

“Because your hands had only just started to unclench.”

Joel’s heart clenches at the thought you were watching him that intently. That you were weighing the state and tension of his body. Valiantly trying to release some of that weight from him, even when you must be so heavy too.

And of course, knowing this, he only tries to push you further away. Before his dreams of you are seared even more brightly under his skin.

“You know what. I should go.” His chest constricts - throat grows tighter, a lump forming.

Joel idly wonders if his grief will ever stop feeling so raw. That’s the second disease, he thinks. The other monster infecting everything around it. The shadow of the original cloud. He wonders if it will always be this debilitating, even after he’s pushed it down as far as it can go. It’s not only a grief for what was lost, he ponders. It’s also a grief for what he can never have again. It's a grief for you and all the ways he could have loved you.

He sits up -carefully but abruptly, hand clamped over his aching ribs- and his wetted hair sends rivulets snaking down his face, his neck, his chest. Inching beneath the collar of his green button down shirt. Collecting on his shoulders like a pattern of indoor raindrops.

“Joel,” you scold, tutting lightly. Following quickly after him with the towel, trying to mop up after him. Hastily, you towel off his hair. Sneak your hand beneath his collar, gathering the drops up from his chest and neck.

With effort, and a grimace, Joel swings his legs around, until he is sitting upright, feet planted on the floor. But, whether for the pain or for the promise of pleasure - he’s not sure - he can’t bring himself to move any further than that. Especially not as you finally round from the basin, the damp towel slung over your shoulder, your hands and wrists still shined and wet from caressing his hair in a way he can only describe as reverent.

You kneel before him, drying your hands off and setting the towel down before boldly sliding your palms up his denim-clad thighs. “Joel. Would you just let me take care of you?"

He meets your eyes and finds them soft but determined. Empty of darkness, even with the black expanding abyss of your pupil eating away at the colour of your iris.

Joel looks down at your hands as you begin to smooth them up and down, inching slowly up towards his crotch before retreating - repeating the pattern. He looks at you in displeasure, but there’s nothing about your touch which is unwelcome - and that’s exactly the problem. He swallows. Gathers his question up in his throat before he offers it to you gently, as though in cupped, outstretched palms. “How?”

Your beautiful eyes flash with pity then, he thinks, or something like it. It seems like a silly question, but after all this time he doesn’t recall what it’s like to be cared for. He doesn’t know how to let you.

Your palm reaches up to the scruff on his cheek. You smooth it fondly. “Lie back,” you encourage, with a soft smile which seems to glow from the inside, like a porch backlit with the glow of home. “And just let me take care of the rest.”

Joel has always found something to fight for, but today, he has no fight left in him. In truth, he doesn’t want to fight this. To fight you. It is easy to give in to you. In fact, it's too easy. That has always been the problem.

Your hands continue to travel up and down his thighs, and he feels the warmth of you bleed through the fabric.

God. He’s already hard for you. Already full and throbbing in his jeans. Already, he is imagining your hands wrapping around the thick, straining mass of him. Imagining the way that -in moments - you may be unloosing his belt, threading leather through denim loop. The way you might pop the button keenly with your thumb, and he might groan as you relieve the pressure. The way you might unzip the straining fly to have his substantial length spring free, so rarely touched and so so ready to be taken care of.

At the thought of that alone, he’s straining against the seams of his pants, a pressure which sits smack bang between pleasure and pain.

“Joel,” you whisper softly, and he realises he hasn’t yet moved from his position.

“Right.” He swallows. He lies back. Stretches himself out, feeling far more exposed this time, even if he is still fully clothed.

You stand, quickly disappearing the basin away and soon you’re back, standing over Joel and watching him laid out all needy like this. His eyes travel over you, entranced by your form, and he suddenly needs friction. Needs the relief he didn't even know he was waiting for until you offered it - or, implied it. He bucks his hips up, not even caring if he’s being subtle, and the denim and leather creak as he shifts. He punches out a breath as he strains in his pants, chasing any morsel of friction he can. The feeling of his shaft pushing harder against the seam as his whole cock twitches for you. For those hands. For that plush mouth. Maybe for that cunt of yours.

As usual though, when Joel feels anything good, there is a familiar swell of guilt too; this time, riding in on the flood of arousal to his cock. This time, there’s something new to be feeling guilty for too. Something to add to that already long list. He feels guilty for having all of these thoughts about you, despite never having asked you where you were from. Before. What you used to do. Who you lost.

“I’m sorry,” Joel offers, before he even knows that his mouth is moving. Before he’s even figured out what it is he’s sorry for.

Truth is, he’s sorry for so many reasons. For what he’s done. What he’s lost. Whatever you’ve lost. For not asking you about it. Mainly, he realises, because he can’t make you any promises. None that he could keep. Not to keep you safe. He can’t promise you that.

He thinks you’ll ask him what for - why he’s sorry. But instead, you say something else.

“Don’t be.”

If only it was that easy.

Even so, he looks into your eyes as your hungry gaze skims the length of his body, settling at the bulge at his crotch as you drag your tongue along the pillow of your lower lip. You’re beautiful. Vibrant. Full of life and lust and hunger. Alive in a dead world; and suddenly, it doesn’t matter one bit to Joel where you came from. It doesn’t matter what happened before. It only matters where you’re going. What you want. How he can give it to you.

But it is you who gives him something.

You hinge at the hips, slanting your mouth against Joel’s, and he feels your lips brush up against the scruff on his top lip. Feels the pillow of your plush mouth meet his before your tongue fleets out, licking into him like a searing, dancing flame. You hum hungrily into his mouth and his lips chase you as you pull away, another backlit smile dancing on your face, your features already beginning to resemble home to him in a world where there's no such thing.

Joel watches you move now, with quiet fascination, as you kick off your boots. As you wiggle your pleasing hips, untying then easing your cargo pants and panties down your thighs. His tongue curls around his lip as he is gifted glimpses of your skin - although you are still covered to your upper thigh by the yellow tunic top you’re wearing - and now he can’t help but palm himself through his jeans for a morsel of relief.

Still. What you're about to offer him? It feels like far too much. “What are you doing? You don’t have to-“

“-Tell me you don’t want this and I’ll stop,” you promise, meeting his eyes, open and honest and ready to back off if he doesn’t want this. But shit, how could he not want you? Look at you - and so he can’t. He can’t possibly tell you that, even though he thinks that he should.

“No. God, I want you,” Joel pleads, voice hollowed-out with need. All spent, like ash.

“And you’re going to have me.”

You kick your pants and panties off, leaving them to pool discarded on the floor, and Joel palms himself a little harder, grabbing the fat roll of himself through the denim as he catches a glimpse. They’re nothing sexy, of course; but from the way they’ve fallen he is able to note the telltale wet spot on the crotch. It looks like you’ve soaked them through, and God he wants to feel your wetness for himself.

You ease over him, settling your knees on to either side of the leather chair, where Joel’s legs are stretched out before him, sturdy thighs slightly parted to accommodate the arousal between his legs.

You’re still wearing your tunic top, bright yellow like sunshine, and the length of it dances and clings at intervals to your hips and thighs as you move. It’s driving him wild that you are bare beneath. All he can think about is that warm, delicious wetness of yours spilling over him. God, he wants to hear it. Wants to squeeze it out of you. Wants it to drip down the veined shaft of him.

You straddle his thighs, knees folded, the soles of your feet pointed up towards your ass cheeks, and your heat settles just below his own - not quite grinding over him, but tantalisingly close.

You take a moment like this to simply look at him. To gaze into his coffee brown eyes as though there’s something more to him than being sorry and bitter. Like you could see anything sweet there. Anything worth wanting. Then, you comb his damp hair back with your fingers, drawing the strands back from his forehead. Tucking and curling them around his ears.

Your touch - your tenderness - makes him ache. Makes him throb. Makes him want to bury himself in you. His tongue, his fingers, his cock, his feelings - anything of him you’ll take. And, as he wraps his arms around you a wracked moan unspools from his chest as his rough fingertips find the soft skin beneath your yellow tunic. As his touch traverses the contours of you he’s always admired from a distance.

As his jaw falls open, slack with desire, you drink down his moan, catching the resonant sound in the cave of your mouth. Kissing him with a gentle yet constant hunger. With a red hot spark of deviance in your sweet eyes which almost makes Joel spill creamy ropes into his pants there and then. Your tongue travels along your lower lip. Your gaze drops, lust dark and heavy to the bulge at his crotch, and you unloop his belt with those hands of yours. They'll look small next to the size of him, he thinks. He likes that thought a lot.

“Let’s see what contraband you’re smugglin’ in these pants of yours, cowboy," you smile, and Joel's eyes crinkle with rare amusement. His face tips up with a lopsided smile which is quick to drop - all of him focussed on where you're about to touch him.

He twitches eagerly in his jeans thinking about how tight you will grip him, but you don’t touch him just yet. Instead, you shuffle yourself back, down his legs, giving yourself enough space to tug on his clothing and to ease it down his thighs. Once his pants and his boxers have reached his knees you stop there, abandoning them almost as soon as his thick, veined length is sprung free, nestling all tender against the hatch of greying hair trailing down his abdomen - where his shirt is lifted.

He’s flushed a deep colour already. Veined and needy and weeping for you. His need becomes even more urgent yet as he thinks of your hands and the way they move - the way they might touch him. Take care of him. As he thinks about you sliding your thumb over the pearl of precum at his head.

Still, he is not quite ready for the feeling when you dip forward to slide your tongue around the head of him instead, gathering that salty bead with your tongue, lapping it up with relish. He feels you hum around the head of him, the vibration sending a zip of pleasure flooding along his length. Making his balls tighten and ache already.

He wants you. He needs you. He wants you with an urgency, and yet here you are, still taking your time. Taking your time to suck at him and feel him weigh heavy over your tongue until your jaw aches from it. To grip him in your hand and marvel at the girth of him. At the way he is so sensitive that every motion and shift of your pattern makes him melt into the chair, increasingly boneless, his brow burdened with need.

You are tender with him. Careful, of his injuries. But it’s more than that, isn’t it? You touch him like he’s wounded; everywhere. His whole body. His whole soul too. And he is, isn’t he? All of him is hurting? Has been for so long?

Joel groans, his lip almost splitting from biting down and stifling his moans. He never was a vocal lover but God, it’s different for you. And this time, the sound punches out of him as you shift. As you settle your cunt over him and he feels your sopping heat glide along his length for the first time. It is a non-descript sound, halfway between pain and pleasure; and instantly, concern flashes in your eyes. You pause; lift off of him with a rise of your thighs and check-in with him.

“Joel. Are you okay? Am I hurting you?”

Are you? His breath is searing in and out of his lungs. Ragged breaths, jolting his pained ribs. You have him on the edge and so alight with desire for you that his need feels unbearable. He’s aching to fill you up. His face is contorted and crumpled by his need, brows drawn down, eyes half-lidded. But is this pain? Or is this something else? Something he has forgotten.

For a moment, then, he almost answers “yes”. Yes, because he doesn’t remember anything else but pain and so, the sensation he’s feeling now? Isn’t that pain too? Is there anything else?

He’s almost grateful when he shifts slightly, writhes against the chair to buck his hips keenly up in search of you as you withdraw so cruelly from him, his muscles coiling up. He’s grateful that the shift does indeed send pain blooming through his side; because he knows then, with certainty, that you are bringing him nothing but pleasure.

He’s grateful too though, for the pain, because a pleasure like this? A pure hit of it, not cut through with anything he's more used to? Joel thinks it would be too much for him to take. Joel thinks you are too much for him. Far more than he deserves.

“Joel?” you prompt, sliding your palm against his scruff. He hears it rasp like a scraped match. “I want you.”

You don’t want me, the voice in his head sounds out. I have nothing I can give you. But those are not the words that make it to his lips. Those are not the words at all. “Then have me, sweetheart.”

Joel may have nothing he feels he can give you, but holy shit he wants everything you are offering. He wants your plush, velvet mouth. Your smooth thighs. He wants the pooling slick between your legs - and for once, just this once, he intends to allow himself to satisfy his needs.

He figures he will simply owe you a debt. Find something that you want or need and acquire it for you. He simply has to think of this like a transaction, doesn’t he? Something familiar. Something he knows. That way, he’s not taking anything he doesn’t deserve - and he sure as hell doesn’t deserve you.

Once invited back to his body, sure of what he wants, you kiss him. Deeply, hungrily, your tongue rolling and writhing against his. Your breaths just as ragged as his. Your thighs quaking next to his, your want more than evident.

You break for air and you rise up on your knees again so that you can settle over him, notching the fat, swollen head of him against your folds.

You look like a dream on top of him, and with this yellow fabric dancing about your thighs, you look to Joel like you’re wearing a sun dress. Indeed, when he looks up at you - when he blocks everything else out - you make it feel like nothing ever happened. Like nothing was ever lost.

You look just like you’re about to fuck him on his bed on white crisp sheets. Like you’ll fall asleep beside him and in the morning he’ll make you breakfast.

You look like everything he wanted and found far too late.

You are beautiful. You are good. You are gentle. Gentle still. Gentle despite everything. And where on earth did you learn that from - how on earth did you hang on to it - in a world like this? A world which has not been gentle with him. Which has been out to get him at every turn.

You are gentle with him, even when he is undeserving. Even when he has been anything but.

Gingerly then, you settle yourself over him, and once his head is notched there and your slick hand is guiding him home, he slips easily past your folds. His eyes flutter closed as he feels your warmth wrap around him, the tightness of you hugging his girth. You’re so tight that he feels like he must be splitting you apart, but the way you’re shaking for him, the way these delicious moans unravel from your mouth tells him it feels just as good for you too.

You’re gentle with him. Sinking down on him slowly. Being ever so cautious of his ribs and his bruises and scrapes. You’re making him feel so good. So close to coming undone.

But god, he’s not planning on being gentle with you.

There’s a part of Joel that wants to make love to you, sure; but he’s not even sure he’d know how to do that anymore. How to be tender. How to be gentle. And so, he reaches for you in the only way he knows how. Reaches for you with his arms, his hands. With a body that doesn’t remember pleasure - not really. With a soul that doesn’t remember anything good - not really. He reaches for you, with hands that only know how to kill things.

In the end, it’s clunky, when he extends his touch towards you. Rough - and far too desperate. He reaches for you like it’s survival - the one thing he knows how to do - and he claws at your hips, the rough pads of his flesh sinking into your skin like dough. He has the sense, at least, to check with you, to ask with words rasped through gravel in his throat if he can fill you up. And as soon as you say yes, as soon as your breathy affirmatives and pleas lilt to his ears, Joel is dragging you down on him. Spearing you -abrupt and sudden- with the fat length of his dick, surging into you all at once.

The motion, along with the sudden swell of him punches a breath from your lungs, your rib cage flaring with quick short pants. Your eyes, rolling back into your skull as you mewl his name, and god, if he wasn’t hurt he’d be drilling into you already, fucking himself up into you at a brutal pace, so long as you’d let him.

“S-sorry,” he stutters, with effort. “Too much?”

“Almost. Joel - fuck. I’m so full of you.”

He stills as you breathe around him, adjusting to his size, and as soon as you’re ready you rise up on your knees, dragging electric pleasure all along his shaft as your cunt strokes and grips him tightly.

Then, when you sink yourself down once more, impaling yourself on his length, Joel screws his eyes shut as he eases -glides- into the wet, warm cushion of you all over again. You’re so soft and tight and forgiving, your walls relenting to the girth of him, yet providing such glorious friction that it makes his head spin. Makes him see spots, the edges of his vision whiting out.

Next, Joel moves too, adjusting his hips slightly. Helping you impale yourself on him over and over like this. He keeps it going, despite the burn of pain in his ribs and his shoulder. He tries to guide you with the claws of his hands at your hips, until it begins to hurt him too much. Until all he can do is lie back and take it from you. All he can do is feel it, emitting gusty, billowing breaths from the shocked “o” of his plush lips as he attempts to stave of his end. To do all he can to take care of your end too before he spills himself.

He needs to. Needs to take care of you like this, because he can’t offer you any other damn thing.

He can’t promise to take care of you.

He can’t promise that to anyone ever again.

He will only break it.

So, no promises. But surely, he can feel pleasure, for these fleeting moments? Surely, he can give you that too, because even if he doesn’t he’s damn sure you deserve at least that much.

He reaches for you. In desperation again. Like it’s survival. Like he can’t live without this. Without you. Even though he has already. Even though he'll have to again.

For now though, for right now, he's filling you all the way up. Squeezing your juices out of you. Pushing them out with every thrust until he’s fucking you with wet, obscene sounds. Until your slick is coursing down his shaft, coating his balls, inching over him.

With a grunt, Joel gathers some slick with the two forefingers of his left hand, and he rubs the calloused pads of his fingers into your clit. You yowl at the pressure -the pleasure- and then you guide him with your hand over his, Joel quickly learning your pace and your patterns, replicating it perfectly when you release your guiding touch.

It feels so good. It feels so good and your eager, pleasured moans are billowing down to him, your cunt clenching down on him and his dick is feeling fucking blissful as you repeatedly sink yourself. It feels good - so good - and it’s more than he deserves but god, he’s going to take it. He's going to take it even if he has to be punished for it later.

He’s pretty sure the world has been punishing him for years anyway. Pretty sure it’s keeping score and will be sure to let him know about it if he dares to take too much.

For now though.

Holy shit.

It feels so good and you’re so beautiful. So perfect. Better than he could have imagined, his flattened daydreams of you nothing compared to the real thing. You’re a vision, and you’re too good for this blighted earth and you’re every bit deserving of the life Joel knows he can never give you.

It’s bittersweet and you’re beautiful; but you’re too beautiful to look at - bright like the sun in your yellow tunic, fabric moving around your thighs like a sun dress, like something you might have worn in the before times. Like you might have worn in his yard if he’d still had a home to offer you. Maybe. Maybe you would've. It kills him that he'll never know. Never know what you could have had. What he could have given you.

You’re beautiful, and god you’re too beautiful to look at and so he drags you down to his lips as you clamp down around him, squeezing him like a vice, causing pleasure to sear white hot from his middle, creamy ropes of cum filling you up as you convulse. Your spasming cunt sends jolting aftershocks zipping through his length, ekeing every last drop from him, draining him dry.

You’re too beautiful. Too good of a thing for him to hold on to - and so Joel keeps kissing you, his hands coming to cup your face as tenderly as his killing hands know how. Kissing you, for long enough that he can quash the tears which threaten to squeeze out from the corners of his eyes. He kisses you softly, his sentiments dissolving like sugar against your mouth - as sweet as he can muster.

He kisses you, until he feels the shape of your mouth morph into a smile, and that’s it. That's when he stops.

That’s when he stops, because he can’t let himself feel this. He can’t let himself feel this because he can’t pull on that thread. Not when everything he has worked so hard to push down is all knotted and tangled together. Everything he’s loved and everything he’s lost, all bundled up in his chest.

He can’t let himself feel this because it was far more than he expected to feel.

He’d thought that you would be quick. Thought -hoped- you were just using him. Like this was a transaction. That maybe this was how you collect advantages. How you’ve managed to survive. Instead though, you gave, and you took, but it was not transactional in the slightest. And Joel has nothing left in his heart or his pockets except ration cards. Nothing he can give you in return.

Most importantly though, he can’t let himself feel this, because happiness died when the world did.

Died when she did.

And, happiness?

Well - Joel doesn’t believe he deserves to feel it again.

That’s why he encourages you off of him a little too quickly, even when you pepper kisses along the column of his neck. Why he moves away a little too abruptly, even when you tongue hungrily at the salt-slick sweat which has pooled in the hollow of his throat. Why he sets his face, all stern again even as he’s still leaking out of you.

Anyway, he stands, grunting out in pain. Maybe in anguish. Pulling his pants up with his good arm, and preparing to go.

He sets his face, and he looks back at you, where you have huddled yourself in his spot on the chair, your makeshift yellow sun dress hitched up around your hips, exposing where you glisten, all slick with the evidence of what he just did with you.

You're beautiful. Too beautiful. You look like summer when he meets your eyes. A sun that is bright and constant, like it used to be before the rot clouded over the skies.

A light that is far too bright for him.

Part of him expects you to look sad. To look surprised that he has leapt up like this, motioning to leave so violently. Expects you to plead with him to give you more; but instead, you look at him levelly. Knowing, not naive. Maybe you too are clear on the limits of what’s possible. Clear that there are some things that can never be.

Still, as that soft smile plays over your face, as Joel holds the memory of your touch over his body, the bitter coffee look in his eyes sweetens just a little.

“Listen. Thanks," he states brusqely. It’s not enough. Not by any stretch. But unless you want some contraband or some shit, it’s all he’s got.

“No problem, Joel-y. I... I just wanted to take care of you. I thought you deserved that - at least once.”

Tears prick at the corners of Joel’s eyes. Stinging; but pushed down and flattened before you can even notice it. He’s not quite sure. Not quite sure whether hearing you say he deserves something he’s sure that he doesn’t counts as pleasure or pain, but he supposes that it doesn’t matter anymore anyway. He’s back to not knowing the difference. Not recognising pleasure or happiness when they stare him in the face, because now they have become strangers.

Joel nods efficiently at you. Picks up his rucksack and moves towards the doorway, trying not to think about the fact you’re still full of him. About the fact that you’re still smiling, that backlit glow of home imviting him in.

Truth be told, he can’t imagine ever being happy again.

If he could imagine it though? If he could imagine being happy, he’s sure as all hell that it would be with you.

You’re like summer, he thinks. Bright. Luminous. It's just that Joel’s not looking for the light.

For someone who’s so used to the dark? Like him? The light is blinding.

Still, he pauses in the doorway, turning back towards you for one moment more. From the surprise on your face now, he can tell you didn’t even expect that much from him - and by God, you deserve so much better.

His eyes sweeten, just a little further, and his face sets - now with a different kind of resolve. He offers his words, like they’re cupped in outstretched palms. Like he could be gentle. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“You don’t owe me a debt, Joel.”

He nods, but that doesn’t mean at all that he accepts your assertion.

His eyes tick over to the broken picture rail, right where it fractures. His gaze lingers on it for a moment, cataloguing what tools he might need to fix it. Clocking the picture frames of salvaged art you have leaning up against the wall, not yet hung.

“I said, I'll make it up to you.” You nod efficiently back at him, and Joel drinks one more long measure of you in before he leaves. Maybe it's not quite a promise, but right now, it's all he's got.

He’d burn the world down for you, he thinks, if it could change a damn thing.

Thing is though, the world has already burned.

He can’t make you many promises. Can’t keep you safe. Make you happy. Offer you a home.

He’ll only let you down.

Maybe all of that is true. Maybe it is - but Joel knows one thing for sure. You’re brighter than the sun, and, in a world full of darkness? He just can’t look away, even though you’re blinding.

[soft-ramuda]

“Sweet.”

uhhhh sooooo this ramuda week prompt list is by @/ramumemura on twt !! so shoutout to them for providing this amazing prompt list for such an amazing character !! give them a follow too !!

this is my first time posting here and i spent a good amount of time lurking in the ramuda amemura x reader tag and there is great lacking for oneshots about my number one boi so uhhh have this !!

this might suck as i haven't properly written anything in two years but i tried my best OTL have fun and enjoy tbf this was really fun to write and i love ramuda so much he deserves the world omg

lowercase intended !! idk how tumblr formatting works since i am very unfamiliar with it so uhhh apologies >< im also on mobile so double apologies ><

words: 1,043 <333

sunmary:

do you still want to taste the icing, y/n?”

you nodded then he pressed his lips to yours. the kiss lasted for a few seconds before he pulled away. an unprecedented whine left your lips which only caused him to chuckle.

“it tastes sweet, doesn't it, bunny?”

••••

eggs? check!

flour? check!

baking powder? check!

everything else that was needed to make cupcakes that ramuda couldn't list on the top of his mind? triple check check check!

ramuda stuck his tongue out the side of his mouth as he tied his bangs up to prevent them from being a distraction. after that, he grabbed a pretty pastel pink apron that had shibuya's cutest baker embroidered on it in different brightly coloured letters. he stood by the kitchen counter, happily waiting your return as you promised to bake cupcakes with him as an early birthday celebration. he stared at the door of his apartment, bouncing up and down on the soles of his feet, as if he was an excited puppy waiting for his owner's return.

a few minutes later, the door opened and ramuda's imaginary puppy ears and tail perked up and wagged respectively.

“y/n–nee!” he exclaimed, running over to tackle you in a hug.

“ramu–chan!” you steadied yourself because you almost fell over when he suddenly threw all of his weight on you. “as adorable as you are, please don't scare me like that. i haven't even properly entered the apartment.”

his response was a giggle and to snuggle his face deeper in your chest, holding you closer to him. you rolled your eyes playfully yet you couldn't help but smile at the affection you received from your boyfriend. you placed your hand on his head and gave his hair a ruffle, appreciating the warmth he gave off. it was surely needed after a tiring day.

he looked up at you with sad puppy dog eyes and an exaggerated pout on his lips. “but you promised,” he whined like a child, exaggerating his tone on the last syllable of ‘promised’, “you said we'd bake cupcakes so i prepared!”

you rolled your eyes, trying your best to remove his arms around your torso (to no avail, by the way). you gave up after a few struggles because his grip was strong.

“i never said we'd never bake!”

“but you took so long!”

you laughed at the way he stomped his foot while still looking up at you with a fake glare. he huffed, turning up his nose, and looking away at you to cement the fact that yes, he was ‘mad ’ at you. he showed no signs of letting you go. with the way he acted, you couldn't believe he was gonna be 25 in a few days.

“alright, alright.” you raised your hands in faux defeat. “i'm sorry i had to work today. let go of me so i can change and we can get started.”

his imaginary tail wagged as he smiled, letting go of you, raising his arms in victory. he stood behind you and began pushing you in and towards the room you two shared.

“hurry up, y/n–nee!”

“be patient!”

“no! i already waited all day!”

••••

usually, when you baked on your own, it would be swift, clean, and easy. usually you'd be done within an hour — preparation and other stuff already thrown in there. but when ramuda was in the picture… oh boy.

it basically took you two almost two hours to finish up because of all the distractions (kissing, flirting, throwing ingredients at each other's faces, all that stuff). flour wasn't only on the countertop like it should be when things get a bit messy but also on the floor, on the kitchen walls, in the sink … honestly it was everywhere in the kitchen. the mess due to a certain someone initiating a flour fight and of course, you wouldn't say no to an ongoing war so you had to fight along.

that was the only mess that you permitted because cleaning up would be a pain in the ass and ramuda would use his birthday as an excuse to get out of cleaning. so far, besides the two of you being covered in flour, sugar, and egg shells, everything went by smoothly and ramuda was the best (but also the worst) assistant there could be.

you took a breath of relief as you pushed the cupcake tray into the oven. you turned the oven on, set an alarm on your phone, and walked over to ramuda who was busy mixing the sweet lemon flavoured icing. he picked that flavour because yellow for fp, bunny !

you leaned on the countertop, looked at his face, and smiled. his tongue stuck out at the side of his mouth, eyebrows furrowed in concentration– you couldn't help but think he was adorable … and handsome.

‘i want to kiss him right now.’

when he noticed you were looking at him, he winked and gave you a side smile. he chuckled, breaking you out of your trance.

“like what you're seeing, bunny?” he said, his voice lower than usual.

you became red and buried your face in his shoulder. he giggled and leaned his head against yours.

“taste the icing if it's alright, y/n!” he said excitedly, his voice back to normal before moving his shoulder so you'll stop leaning on him (rude). but before you could react, he dipped his finger in the mix and booped your nose, leaving the icing there.

you twitched your nose and tried to reach it with your tongue. ramuda watched amused as you tried. you both laughed after multiple failed attempts. eventually you gave up and tried to wipe away the icing on your nose. but before you could, ramuda grabbed your hand, twirled you, then he placed his hand on your hips. your faces centimetres apart. he had a smirk on his lips as you blushed redder. he licked your nose, removing all the icing before he hummed.

“do you still want to taste the icing, y/n?” he asked the same deep voice as earlier, tongue stuck out teasingly. he leaned in closer, his lips almost touching yours.

you nodded. before you could process anything, he pressed his lips to yours. you kissed back, your hands going to the collar of his dress shirt, pulling him closer— deeper. the kiss lasted for a few seconds before he pulled away. an unprecedented whine left your lips which only caused him to chuckle.

“it tastes sweet, doesn't it, bunny?

[enthusiasticharry]

Second Best

summary: you and Harry meet at a party, but he seems to take more interest in your sister than in you, and you won't be Second Best. 

author’s note: bonjour mes chéris!! this is the first instalment of hannah being the history/french student she is and merging all three of her worlds and creating her own little fictional one. this is based off of lousia may alcott’s little women (one of may favourite books ever) but with my own little twist on it. this is set in the 1860′s during the civil war but i haven't made it too historical at all.  i have done all of the translations myself and even though i'm semi-fluent i still make mistakes so if you spot any let me know. this is so long so i'll shut up now, thanks for all the support bye!! <3

word count: 16k of good old fashioned marriage talk (there’s a lot of it, its all they spoke about tbf??), fluff, angst and a lil’ smut. there is marriage and children at the end (woo, exciting!) not proofread because my eyes are already asleep. 

masterlist   |    speak to me about second best here!

“Stand up straight, don’t slouch. You have a tendency to do so, and these people will not tolerate it.” You sister, Lizzie, says as she pushes her arm between yours, walking you towards the fancy house in front of the two of you, “Whatever you do, don’t speak about your art at all. Nobody can stop you once you’ve started. Do speak if you’re spoken too, and if you’re asked to dance, dance.”

You shake your head, “But I don’t want to dance.”

“You will dance.” Lizzie says again, squeezing your arm slightly, “You may find yourself a husband if you act proper enough.”

“I shouldn’t have to act proper just to find a husband, Lizzie.” You scoff, shaking your head, “If they don’t love me, oil paints and all, then I don’t want them. I don’t think I’ll ever find a husband.”

“Oh shush with you.” She says, tapping your arm slightly. It didn’t hurt, but it did cause your lips to part in shock, “How lovely would it be if father returned and you were married! It would make his life.”

“I think he’d have a heart attack.” You mutter, removing your arm from around hers as you stand outside of the door you were going to walk through in mere minutes, “I’m his little girl, you are also, Lizzie. If we were both to be married I’d think we’d kill him off.”

“You shouldn’t joke about that.”

“I’m not joking. I truly believe that would happen.” You deadpan.

She scoffs and slips her arm through yours this time, using her free hand to ring the bell. A man wearing one of the fanciest suits you’ve ever seen in your life opens the door, allowing the two of you to slip through. You help Lizzie remove her shawl, whilst she does the same to you. The man hangs them up amongst the array of other jackets. You lips part in shock at the sight of the house you were in, the first thing your eyes falling upon being the large staircase, with paintings littering the walls. For once, you were speechless, unable to control your excitement and want to gawk at the art upon the wall.

“Lizzie!” You gasp, gripping her arm tightly, “Look at the—”

“Don’t you dare say paintings!”

“Lizzie!” You groan again, pulling her arm so that she’s looking your direction, “Look at them.”

“I’m looking at them.” She lifts her eyes to look at the wall you were looking at, where the pieces hung with such grace and elegance, “They don’t seem too spectacular.”

A shocked gasp escapes your lips, “Take that back, Lizzie! They are beautiful!

“If you say so.”

She removes you from your awe of the paintings and pulls you towards the ballroom. There’s people everywhere, the most amount of people you think you’ve ever seen in your life. You watch as they mingle with glasses of Champagne in their hands, the expensive material of their dresses sparkling in the light from the chandelier. Men stood wooing the women before them, flicking their suit jackets and inviting them to dance. The dresses the women were wearing were something out of dreams. You weren’t the biggest fan of dresses, in fact, you lived in trousers around the house, but you couldn’t help feeling embarrassed about your tattered dress. You’ve had the dress for a year or so, and the holes and rips and anything else you’d manage to do to the material could be seen in the light even if you’d fixed it.

“Lizzie!” The call comes from somebody who you don’t recognise, but Elizabeth certainly did and before the syllables of her name could escape your lips, she’s gone. You watch as your sisters whisked away with the crowd, leaving you stood there with no clue as to what to do.

Gripping the material of your dress, you slip yourself to stand by one of the doorways, away from the hustle and bustle of everyone in the room, but close enough for you to be able to watch. Lizzie stands in the middle, just as she always is, with a group of people around her. She was always the centre of attention, the one that everyone loved — you included. You were only a few years younger than her, but you were the only siblings each of you had, so you were close. You had your disagreements, that was certain, but you always came back stronger. You weren’t shocked when you noticed her spinning around holding some man’s hand, dancing away with a smile on her face that always made your insides happy. If she was happy, you were happy.

“Not one for dancing?” You eyes almost bulge out of your head as you hear a voice next to you, a male one at that.

“Oh, um, not really.” You laugh, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear, “I’m not a very good dancer. I don’t really like dancing, to be completely honest.”

“Everyone loves dancing.” The man says, and you’re able to get a good look at him. A black suit, with a crisp-white shirt sits upon his torso. His hair was a fluffy brown, a chestnut that you found yourself in awe of. His green eyes ones of masterpieces, better than any art you could ever see upon any wall in any gallery, “I believe you are just lying.”

“I am not.” You shake you head, “My sister told me that if anyone asked me to dance I must say yes, but I have decided that I mustn’t. I have two left feet and anyone who is to ever dance with me will regret it, I know of it.”

“I highly doubt that.” He shakes his head, sipping from the glass he had in his hand, “Your sister shouldn’t force you do dance either.”

“Oh.” You shake your head, “Lizzie isn’t forcing me to dance, she just wants the best for me. Dancing is how people meet.”

“It’s how we met.” He says after a few seconds.

You let out a small chuckle, running your tongue over your lips slightly, “Sir, pardon me, but I don’t even know your name.”

“Harry.” He smiles, “M’names Harry.”

“Oh!” You exclaim again, “Harry Styles! You’ve just moved in next door with your father! Mother saw you the other day.”

“You must be—”

“—YN YLN.” You hold your hand out for him to shake, immediately shaking your head and pulling it back, “I’m so sorry, Mr. Styles, Lizzie forgot to remind me to not shake hands. It’s not very ladylike, I know.”

“It’s perfectly okay.” He holds his hand out, and you bite your lip and shake it, “And please don’t call me Mr. Styles. I’m not my father. Call me Harry.”

“Harry.” The name slips from your lips, “I think Lizzie would die if she saw me talking to you.”

“If I may, would you show me Lizzie?” He asks and you nod.

You nod and turn back to the crowd, fluttering your eyes across all of the people in hopes to spot your sister. She was wearing red, the colour which suited her the most in your opinion, so she wasn’t too hard to spot. She was dancing in the middle of the room with a man with blonde hair, a suit similar to the one that Harry was wearing upon his body. She looked happy, and the sight caused a smile to flutter across your lips.

“She’s in the middle there.” You say, nodding your head in the girls direction, “The one in the red dress.”

You turn to look at Harry and once his eyes fall upon your sister, you can tell that the whole world stops around him. His lips part, his eyes widen and if you look closely you can see the reflection of the red dress in his eyes. You’re unsure how long he’s staring at her, but you’re staring at him for the exact same amount of time.

“It’s a. . .” He fumbles with his words after a few seconds, lifting his hands to scratch the back of his neck, “It’s a beautiful dress.”

“It is.” You agree, “Mother let her save up her allowance to buy the material. I should’ve done the same but I spent mine on paints.”

“You paint?” His raises his eyebrow, finally looking back at you.

You nod, “I love to.”

“Then you have every right to spend your money on paints.” He says, and you try to hide the heat that falls upon your cheeks, “You dress is perfectly swell

“It’s not beautiful though.”

“It’s swell, YN.” He reminds you again, “I’m sure you’ll get a beautiful dress at some point.” 

Then you’ve lost him. You’re not surprised, though. Everyone prefers Lizzie to you, it’s just how it’s always been. You watch the back of him as he walks towards your sister, taking the world in his stride behind him as he does so. You watch as she courtesy’s for the man she has just danced with, and before Lizzie can go anywhere, she’s scooped up to dance with Harry. Maybe if you had bought the Emerald material your mother had wanted you to, Harry would be dancing with you right now instead of Lizzie. Maybe if you hadn’t been so against dancing in the first place he might’ve asked you to dance.

No, you wouldn’t stoop to that level for a man of all people. If Harry didn’t want to dance with you, ‘swell dress’ and all then you weren’t going to change yourself, no matter how much you wanted to, for a mere man.

“YN!” Lizzie delightful glee of your name came after their dance had died down. Lizzie came bouncing towards you, a just as bashful Harry following behind her, “Harry has offered to take us home in his carriage!”

“Now?” You ask, your heart hopeful that they’d both say yes.

Lizzie turns to look at Harry who shrugs his shoulders slightly, “If the two of you want to, we can.”

“Oh no.” Lizzie places her hand upon his shoulder, “We couldn’t dare take you away from the festivities. We will wait until you’re finished.”

“I’m ready to leave myself, Miss YLN.” He says to Lizzie, the same heat falling upon her cheeks as you had felt earlier.

“Please. Call me Lizzie.”

“Okay, Lizzie.” He grins, “I’ll just go fetch the carriage, see you by the front door?”

Lizzie nods, and you give him a small smile and watch as he walks towards the door. You try not to stare as he shrugs on his coat but it’s hard to, and you know that Lizzie is feeling the exact same way that you are.

“Oh YN.” She gushes, turning to you and placing her hands upon your shoulder, “He’s a perfect gentlemen.”

“Is that so?” You ask, walking towards the door also to fetch your shawl, shrugging it on your shoulders.

“It is.” She copies your actions with her own, “He asked to dance, saying that you were the one to introduce me to him. I can’t thank you enough, dear sister.” 

“It’s no issue.” You shake off, turning away from her so that she can’t see the fall in your face, “He seemed to take a fancy to you once I’d pointed you out from the crowd.”

“Really?”

“Oh yes.” You nod your head, turning to look at her. Her shawl was scraggly thrown upon her body, probably from how distracted she was, and you lean forward to sort it for her whilst she gleams over your shoulder at nothing. You wonder if this is what it was like to meet your husband, butterflies and distractions from that moment on. It hadn’t happened yet for you, and seeing the way Lizzie was acting, you decided that you didn’t really want it happen, “Couldn’t take his eyes off you, sweet one.”

She squeals and wraps her arms around you, squeezing you slightly. You were happy that she was happy, and you wouldn’t take that away from her.

The door opened, revealing a blushed faced Harry due to the cold outside, “Ready?”

“YN!” Your mother calls from the floor below you, “Can you please come and set the table?” 

You groan and remove your paintbrush from your canvas. The day prior you had been given a small sum of money from your Aunt Jemima after visiting and immediately gone to the store in town to pick up some new canvases. It was heaven to receive little amounts of money like these and you almost always spent it on canvases so you wouldn’t have to use paper, which was the cheaper alternative that you had to buy. 

“I’m a little busy!” You call back, moving so that you can shout out of your door, “Can you ask Lizzie?” 

“She isn’t here!” Your mother calls back and you groan. You place your palette down on the table beside you, as well as your brushes in the pot of water you had brought up with you. You wipe your hands on your apron before pulling it over your head and off your body. You drape it over your bed carefully, being careful to not get anything on the linen.

You bounce down the steps, tucking your hair that falls down in ringlets by the side of your face behind your ear. Entering the kitchen, you place a kiss to your mother’s cheek. She stands over the side, chopping some vegetables that she’s going to bring to boil for your dinner. She greets you with a smile and continues chopping. 

“Is Lizzie with Harry?” You ask, placing the cutlery beside each mat on the table, noticing that there were four like there had started to be now.

“Of course she is.” Your mother shakes her head, “They’re always somewhere causing trouble.” 

You had to suppress your grin. Lizzie had been the good girl of the family for so long, always doing everything that was asked of her and your were the one who tended to ignore requests so that you could continue doing whatever you wanted to. Since Lizzie had met Harry, that had been completely flipped upside down. You were the good girl of the family who did everything that was asked of you, and Lizzie was the one always getting out of doing things by sneaking off with Harry. 

Since the two had met just over two months ago, they had been inseparable. When the two of you weren’t being taught how to read and write by your mother, Lizzie was always somewhere doing something with Harry. The other week he had taken her to the theatre and words couldn’t explain how jealous you were. You and Lizzie did everything together, and you always had done, but now you felt second best to someone who she hardly knew. You knew a part of you was jealous, but you would never admit that. What you did admit to yourself was that you were lonely and missing your sister. 

“Is Harry staying for supper?” You ask, filling up the water jug to be placed upon the table. 

“I’m guessing so.” Your mother says, moving to bend down by the fire to check on the meat, “It’s ready. Will you go get them? I think they’re by the river.” 

You nod your head, moving to the front door to retrieve your shawl and boots. They were always at the river, as though it was there place. You couldn’t understand for the life of you why they’d chosen that place out of all, especially during the winter months. Snow was just around the corner and the two of them decided to spend their days moments away from catching a cold by the river. 

The walk itself was five or so minutes through the woods behind your house, watching your step for fallen branches and wild animals. Lizzie was usually the one who brought you to the lake, so it was a given that you hadn’t been in a while. 

Once the trees start to disperse, you stand in the middle of the opening to try and spot them. You do, quite quickly in fact. They’re stood by the water, picking up stones every now and then to skim across it, rippling the stillness with their movements. Skimming stones felt like a normal thing to see people doing, but once you watch Lizzie throw her arms around his neck, you feel like a little portion of you crumbles inside. You hadn’t seen them like this before, and you never ever wanted to see them like that again. 

“Lizzie!” You call, snapping them out of their trance so that they turn to look at you. Lizzie immediately removes her arms from around Harry’s neck.

“Is there something wrong?” 

“No.” You shake your head, “Mother just asked me to collect the two of you for supper.” 

The two nod and move around where they were stood to collect their things but you don’t wait for them. Instead, you turn around and walk back towards the house. You can hear them laughing but you refuse to look back, because you know that you won’t be able to handle it. The temperature drops dramatically as you walk back, and you pull your shawl closer to you to help preserve some heat. You had a suspicion that at some point this evening it would start snowing, which you weren’t too unhappy about. It would give you time to finish the painting you started today, and hopefully create some more. 

They aren’t close behind you as you reach the door, so you enter and immediately walk towards the table which is looking a lot fuller than it had been. 

“Are they coming?” Your mother asks and you nod, sitting down at the table. They enter a few minutes later, Harry greeting your mother with a kiss on the cheek. 

The three join you at the table, Harry next to you, Lizzie next to him and your mother sat next to the spare seat — where your father usually sat. You all join hands in saying grace, your hand feeling completely natural sat in his. The way his encompassed yours was something that will be etched into your brain for the rest of the day, and for the days after that. It isn’t a light hold either, it’s a prominent one, and his fingers squeeze yours tightly. You drop your eyes to your plate, unable to look up at him because you’re unsure of what his features may hold. 

You don’t say anything over the dinner, you just listen to their words. It’s all about Harry’s time in London, like it usually was, and the rest about what the two had been up too. Your mother asks the dreaded question, and yet again, you ignore any word that comes out of their mouths.

It was inevitable at this point that Harry and Lizzie, at some point, were going to marry each other. You were surprised that Harry hadn’t proposed yet, if you were honest. If soulmates were a thing, no matter how much it pained you to believe, you wouldn’t be surprised if they were the example. You wouldn’t ever say anything to anyone about this, but you do think a part of you wished that was you in her place. You wished that you were the one that he smiled at, held hands with, kissed upon the cheek as she left. 

After the dinner had finished, you had returned up to your room and lit your candle, leaning against the window frame to peer outside. They stood by the gate, Harry’s hand holding hers and her hand holding is. They looked as though they truly loved each other and what you expected to be a measly kiss on the cheek like it usually was, wasn’t that at all. A little part of you died inside when you saw him lean forward and place a kiss upon her lips, his hand lifting up to rest against her cheek. You managed to draw yourself away from the window after you’d watched for a while or so, slipping under your sheets and into your linen, turning so that you’re facing the wall. A few minutes or so later, you hear the door open and the rustling of clothes and you suspect Lizzie gets ready for bed. You try not cry but you can already feel the tears starting to fall down your face.

“YN.” You hear the soft whisper of your voice over the crackle of the candle that was still on in the room, “Are you awake?” 

“Yes.” You manage out through the hesitation within your voice. 

After a few seconds, and a slight giggles escaping her lips, “He kissed me, YN.” 

“Oh.” You try not to sound like you’re upset, “Are you going to marry him?” 

“He hasn’t asked me.” She’s quick to say, “But I think he might.” 

A month or so later, you’re stood in front of a carriage, one that sits Lizzie inside on her way to Etiquette Lessons. Every young lady in the village had to go to them when they reached a certain age to make sure that they are properly prepared for how to look after their husbands when the day comes. You weren’t quite at the age yet, but Lizzie was. 

You had given her a hug, and watched your mother kiss her cheeks and hug her, but you now found yourself watching something that you had seen so many times now. Harry and Lizzie stood by the door of the open carriage, her hands in his as they whisper and chuckle at whatever they’re talking about. You can’t hear what they say, but you can tell it’s emotional from the tears that are running down his face. 

You mother wraps her arm around your shoulder, squeezing your shoulder. You wondered if she knew. You hadn’t said anything to her, but she always seemed to know what was going on in your life even if you hadn’t told her anything. 

Harry helped Lizzie into the carriage, and closed the door for her before coming to stand next to you. Your eyes fluttered up to look at him for a second, but he didn’t even look anywhere near you, he was watching the carriage as it left. The love of his life was leaving in it, so I’m not surprised he did so. 

“Mother.” You say quickly once the carriage had turn off the path, “Can I return and paint?” 

“Of course you can.” She places a hand on one of your cheeks and a kiss to the other, “Take Harry with you. He’ll need the company.” 

You turn to look at him, and he just shrugs, so you nod. You return back to the house with Harry trailing behind you, looking like a lost puppy. The way his eyes seemed to droop, as well as his hair, all hinted to the fact that he was actually upset that she was leaving. He follows you into the room, and sits on the end of Lizzie’s bed whilst you pulled your paints out of your drawer. 

“I’ve only been in here once before.” He says after a few seconds, running his hand over the linen of her sheets, “You were out. Something about Aunt Jemima.” 

“Oh.” You start to face place some of your paints upon your palette, “I read to her, sometimes, and she pays me so I can buy paints. I’m hoping that one day she’ll take me to Europe with her.” 

“Europe?” He asks, “You want to go?” 

“More than anything.” You sigh, swirling your brush in the green paint you had just placed upon your palette, “More specifically I’m hoping she takes me France. I’ll be able properly practice my art then.” 

“Can you not do that here?” 

You hesitate for a second, hovering your brush over the canvas slightly, “I’ll be better suited if I go there. People will care more about my work.” 

“It’s beautiful work.” He says after a few seconds, “I don’t know how France would change that.” 

You think for a second about how to explain this to him, “Think of it like Etiquette school. The girls go and return as better wives than if they hadn’t gone. They would’ve been good wives, but not as good without the school.” 

“I don’t think I understand.” 

“My art is good without France, just like the wives are without Etiquette class, but they are better with it. My art will be better with France.” 

You turn around to see him nod his head, “I think I understand.” 

“A part of it is also me wanting to leave this town.” You say, turning back around so that you can place your paintbrush back upon your canvas. 

“I cannot fault you for that.” He says, and you turn to him again, only to see that he’s laid back upon the bed, a hand over his eyes, “Sometimes I wish I could leave.” 

“Why don’t you?” You ask, “If one of us had the beings necessary to leave it would be you?” 

“Beings necessary?” He pushes himself up on his elbow so that he’s looking directly at you, “And what would be those necessary beings?” 

“Money, for one.” You say, moving so that you’re sat on your bed, looking straight at him, “Carriages. Knowledge of the world. The furthest I’ve ever gone is the neighbouring town and that was to drop something off for my mother.” 

“Why don’t you leave then?” 

You chuckle, raising your eyebrows, “I plan on it.” 

“Ice Skating.” Harry says as he walks through your bedroom door, holding two pairs of ice skates in your hands. 

“Harry!” You exclaim, placing your hand upon your chest at the shocked sight of him, “I could’ve been indecent and you would have never known!”

“But you aren’t.” He tips his head to the side, “Ice Skating. We’re going ice skating. The lake has frozen over and it’s perfect.” 

“Are we now?” You ask, placing your palette down upon the table next to your easel, “Is Mr. Styles bored of his mansion.” 

“I’m going to loose my mind.” He drops down on your sisters bed, the skates clattering to the floor as he does so, “Please come ice skating with me.” 

“Harry.” You sigh, pulling your painting apron off, “I don’t even know how to ice skate.” 

“Then I will teach you.” He says. 

After a few seconds of contemplation, you nod your head, “I’ll do it if you let me paint you.” 

“Deal.” 

Over the past two weeks you and Harry had grown close. Not as close as Harry and your sister, but close enough for you to class him as one of your good friends. The two of you had started to do everything together, similarly to him and Lizzie but with some barriers. You hugged each other but you certainly weren’t as touchy deeply as they were with each other. You couldn’t do it to your sister, so you avoided doing anything that would be seen as wrong.

 You did feel sorry for Harry. He had told you that he had sent three letters to Lizzie during this time and she hadn’t even replied to one. You weren’t quite sure why, but that was quite despicable on her part. The poor man was making himself sick with how much he was worrying about her, and you were the one who had seen it, and been the one to try and get him out of it. One of the things that you had begged him to let you do was paint him, but he kept rejecting your proposal. Instead, he told you that he liked to enjoy watching you paint rather than having you paint him. 

You were excited to say the least that he had agreed to let you paint him, and you certainly weren’t going to miss that opportunity. 

“Slow down.” You call to Harry, who’s around ten strides a head of you as you waddle your way with your dress in your hands through the snow, “I can’t keep up with you.” 

“Walk faster then.” He says, turning to look at you with a grin across his face. 

You groan and try to pick up the pace, nearly slipping a few times on some particularly icy parts of the ground but you make it to the lake in once piece. Harry passes you the skates he had picked up for you and you thank him for passing them to you. You kick your shoes off and fasten the skates, just as he does the same. 

“Stay away from the middle.” He says, “It’s thinner than the edge.” 

“I think you’re forgetting something.” You say as you try to stable yourself on the blades, “I have not idea what I’m doing.” 

“It’s like walking, but on ice.” He deadpans and you resist the urge to roll your eyes, “I’ll let you hold my hand if you want.” 

He holds his hand out and without really thinking you place your hand in his, allowing him to guide you onto the ice. His hand was cold, but so was yours, but having his in yours sent little flames across the entirety of your body. 

At first you were unsteady on your feet, and you’re sure that you could’ve nearly broke Harry’s hand with how tightly you were squeezing it. He chuckled and made sure that you were continuously upright. After five minutes or so, you found the swing of what you were doing, and managed to move forward without any wobbles.

“I’m letting go of you.” 

“No!” You exclaim, gripping his hand tighter so that he wouldn’t be able to pull away from you, “I’ll fall.” 

“You won’t fall.” He chuckles, trying to pull his hand away again. “I will.” You shake your head, “Please, don’t.” 

“You’re not going to fall.” 

“I am.” 

“You’re not.” 

He somehow manages to release his hand from yours and skate backwards away from you, leaving you on your own. You hold your hands out, straightening them as though that’s going to help balance you out. With the little momentum you had left, you moved forward slightly until you came to a halt, where you pick up one of your feet to push forward and move forward. You manage to do it, without falling which surprises you. 

“Harry!” You exclaimed, beaming at him, “I’m doing it.” 

“I told you that you would.” He smiles, tilting his head to the side, “Shall we?” 

“We shall.” You smile, and the two of you continue off across the ice. 

Everything seems to be going well and good until you manage to catch your blade in a slit in the ice and go tumbling forward, going over on your ankle as you do so. You drop to the ground with a thud, a throbbing immediately falling upon your ankle. 

“Harry. . .” His name escapes your lips through the the hiss of pain you let out. 

“Are you injured?” He’s quick to ask, skating over to you as quickly as he possible could. 

“My ankle.” You say, “I think I’ve sprained it.” 

“You probably have.” He’s quick to say, “Lift up slightly, I’ll carry you back home.” 

You shake your head, “You don’t have to do that.”  

“What are you going to?” He laughs, “Crawl?” 

“I might.” 

“You wouldn’t make it home for Christmas.” He bends down, “Come here.” 

You lift your hand up and wrap your hands around his neck, allowing him to place his hands underneath your knees. He looks at you with a small smile on his face and skates back to the edge of the lake, placing you on the floor for a second so that you could both remove your skates. 

“How did you get so good at skating?” You ask, returning to your prior position his arms. 

“Home.” He says, “In England. It’s cold year round there, and the lakes are often frozen. My mother taught me.” 

“You don’t talk about you mother.” 

“She died when I was young.” He says, not looking at you the way that he had been, “I don’t remember a lot about her.” 

“I’m sorry.” You say, “I didn’t mean to pry.” 

“You didn’t.” He shakes his head, “You were merely curious.” 

You drop your eyes to the white around the two of you, “My mother says that my curiosity may get me in trouble one of these days.” 

“I wouldn’t be surprised.” He chuckles, “But that’s something that makes you, you.” 

Without really thinking, you say the next few words, “Sometimes I wish I wasn’t me.” 

He shakes his head, “You don’t mean that.” 

“I do.” You nod your head, “There’s nothing special about me. I’m no Lizzie YLN.” 

“No.” He shakes his head, “You aren’t Lizzie, but you are YN. This world doesn’t need anymore Lizzie’s in it.” 

“I thought maybe you’d have a thousands Lizzie’s if you could.” 

“I wouldn’t need a thousand if I could have the one.” 

“You do have you.” 

He shakes his head, “I told her before she went that there was no need for Etiquette classes because to be my wife all I wanted was her. Lizzie wanted to go to get the best experience she possibly could.” 

“You respected that?” 

He looks directly over you again, “Why wouldn’t I?” 

“We all know what actually happens at Etiquette classes, Harry.” 

Harry only nods his head once, not saying anything else. He still carries you home, one of his arms rested comfortable under his knee whilst the other rests behind your back. You hoped you hadn’t offended him, but there was no way for you to know. 

Etiquette classes, as a whole, were to teach young women the proper ways of being a wife during the day, and through the night thy would attend balls and such. The balls were so the women could hopefully meet eligible, rich men who they were hopefully going to marry. If you were already meant to marry someone else, it didn’t seem like a right thing to go to this place where the people were always after one thing. 

As your feelings grew for Harry, you wondered whether Lizzie’s had diminished and that was why she decided to go to the classes. You certainly shouldn’t want that, but you couldn’t lie and say that a part of you did.

“Mrs. YLN?” You mother comes running towards the two of you at Harry’s call of her name, “We’ve had a little accident.” 

“What have you done now?” 

“I went over on my ankle.” You deadpan. 

“Harry will you get me some ice?” He nodded and moved towards the kitchen whilst you mother freed your ankle and rested it upon her knee. 

He came back with ice wrapped in a cloth and passed it to your mother who placed it upon your ankle. 

“Thank you for bringing her home, Harry.” 

“It’s no problem.” 

“Would you like to stay for dinner?” 

“I shouldn’t.” He shakes his head, “Thank you for the offer, though. But I should be returning home.” 

“Pass my love onto your father.” 

“I will.” 

He throws you once last look, one that you can’t quite pinpoint the emotion of. After a few seconds he drops his eyes, and walks out of the door without looking back. You turn to look at your mother, who’s got a skeptical look upon her face as she looks at you. 

“What is it?” 

“Does he know?” 

“Does he know what?” 

A small smile crosses her lips, “That you love him.” 

You lips part in shock before you clamp them shut, “I. . . I feel no such thing.” 

“You had just lied to me, child.” She shakes her head, “I know love when I see it.” 

“Mother.” You shake your head, “He loves Lizzie.” 

“I know.” She places her hand upon your cheek, “You’ll be the one to pick up the pieces when she breaks his heart.” 

Lizzie was due to return home today, on Christmas Eve of all days, and the house certainly looked as though it was ready for her.

You, your mother and Harry had spent quite a while this year decorating the house to be as Christmassy as possible. The thing that you still think about to this day was jumping on Harry’s back so he could lift you up to reach the star, your mother smiling as she watched the two of you. 

The carriage returned at around midday. You were stood next to Harry at the end of the garden, with you mother next to him. The carriage came to a halt and the driver was the one to open the door, Lizzie immediately tumbling out and throwing her arms around your mother who had taken a few steps forward. 

She didn’t look like Lizzie, in your opinion. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a tight bun, the dress upon her body looking more expensive than the ones that she had gone with. The material was a blushed pink colour, with fancy detailing upon the corset and a puffy skirt that was one of the biggest that you had ever seen in your life. Lizzie looks happy to see your mother to say the least, but you’re quite surprised when she moves to you next instead of Harry. 

“Hello!” She throws her arms around your shoulder, placing her head on your shoulder whilst you placed yours on hers, the material of her fancy coat hitting your cheek. You hadn’t seen anything quite like it before, never mind felt anything quite like it before, “I’ve missed you so much. How are you?” 

“Well, thank you.” You pull away. clearing your throat and wiping your hands upon your skirt slightly, “The same old. It’s you who I should be asking that question to.” 

She smiles and pulls away, holding her small bag close to herself as she looks at the person stood next to you. Harry looks as though he’s about to cry, and so does Lizzie if you’re being brutally honest. The two of them needed to be alone, and you understood that. When your mother motioned you to follow her back into the house, you didn’t hesitate with your movements, following her back into the house. 

“I feel as though dinner might be late tonight.” You mother says as she closes the door behind you, fumbling to take off her scarf, “I feel like they might be out there for a while. Why don’t you go up and finish your painting?” 

You nod your head, not wanting to say anything. You remove your outdoor gear and race up the stairs. You know you shouldn’t, but you immediately run to the window to see whether you can see the two of them, but you’re unable to. 

Lizzie looked like a different person, but she sounded like Lizzie when she opened her mouth. The clothes that she wore might have changed but she was still your sister, the same sister who had the man you loved following her around like a lost puppy. Lizzie was the same Lizzie as she always had been, and that meant that she probably did feel the same way about Harry as she did before she left. There was a selfish streak in you that wished that wasn’t the case, and she had completely forgot about her feelings for Harry and had met someone else, but until you properly had a conversation with the girl, you couldn’t be too sure that was the case. You couldn’t be sure either that if that had happened, Harry would want you in that way. 

You found yourself unable to paint, so you dropped down upon your bed and sat with your back against the wall, watching the outside world as your thoughts danced around within your head. You found the thoughts spiralling through your head that you were still a young woman at the end of the day, one who could have a line of men wanting to marry you but you instead found yourself second best to your sister, and that shouldn’t be happening. No matter how much you loved the man, or had grown to be accustomed to his company, being second best wasn’t something that you had set your heart on being, and you wouldn’t be for him.

You were the first YLN he had met, yet he had chosen your sister first and he was going to lay in that bed now. 

“YN!” You mother called from downstairs, “They’re here.” 

Christmas Eve dinner, to say the least, was one that you’d never forget. Harry looked as though he was either going to burst out crying or kill someone at any moment, Lizzie looked exhausted and your mother and yourself were sat in the middle of the two of you trying to make ends meet of what had happened. Harry’s eyes caught yours once, but he was quick to flutter them away and take another forkful of vegetables and place it in his mouth. 

“Lizzie, you haven’t told YN and I anything about your time away.” Your mother started, probably not the best topic of conversation but one that would split up the silence hopefully, “Did you enjoy yourself?” 

“I did.” She wipes her mouth upon her napkin, “I had an amazing time. Met some amazing people. Actually, there is one person that I’ve invited for you to meet for the new year.” 

“You have?” Your mother raises her eyebrow, “How wonderful.” 

“His name is Theodore.” 

That’s all it takes for Harry’s fork to clatter to the plate, his chair screech across the floor and his body to stand up. 

“I’m, uh, truly sorry Mrs. YLN.” He says, “The meal was lovely but I’m not feeling very well so I think it’s best that I go home.” 

“Are you alright?” 

“I will be.” He nods his head, clearing his throat and scratching the back of his neck, “So sorry again, have an amazing Christmas.” 

“You too, Harry.” 

Once the doors closed, Lizzie’s the next person to drop her cutlery and sulk off upstairs. The slamming of the bedroom door shakes the whole house. You place another bit of potato into your mouth and slowly chew whilst looking at your mother. 

She sighs, “Will you go check on your sister for me?” 

“But—”

“You’ll get to see him later, don’t worry.” She says, “I’m going to plate him and his father some food. God knows they won’t eat without it, and you can take it over for me.” 

You nod your head, taking a sip from your glass of water before standing up and making your way upstairs. You cam hear Lizzie’s cries before you open the door, and you know that its because of what had obviously happened before the two of them had come to lunch. You push the door open, to see her laid on her bed face down, her head deep within her pillow. You push the door closed behind you and back up until your back is directly placed upon the solid wood. 

“Are you engaged to him?” You say, looking down at your shoes so that you don’t have to make eye contact with her. 

You can hear the bed creek beneath her as she moves, but you still don’t look up, “To who?” 

“To Theodore.” 

“No.” You lift your eyes up just as she shakes her head, “I’m not.” 

“But you want to be.” 

“What makes you think that?” 

You scoff and shake your head, crossing your arms over your chest, “You forget that I’m your sister, Lizzie. I know you better than you know yourself.” 

After a few seconds, she speaks again, “He’s going to propose.” 

“He is?” You take a few steps forward until you’re sat upon your bed, directly across from her, “Why, Lizzie?” 

“We’re in love.” She quickly says, her eyes bulging out the way that they do when she starts to get upset, “When you’re in love, you get married YN.” 

“I thought you were in love with Harry.” 

“I love Harry.” She says, shaking her head, “But I’m not in love with him. I love him as a best friend.” 

“He loves you.” 

“I know.” She shakes her head, “I just didn’t love him the way I love Theodore. He’s just so kind, and so gentle and he makes me feel things that I just haven’t felt before.” 

The way that she stands up immediately makes your mind immediately fall to a place that you know isn’t where it should be. Your eyes widen and she looks at you the exact way that you know that what you thought is right. 

“Lizzie.” You voice comes out as a whisper, and you shake your head, “You didn’t.” 

“I love him, YN.” She shakes her head, “And he loves me.” 

“We always said we’d save that until marriage.” You shake your head, “You told me that’s what you have to do.” 

She sits down on the bed next to you, reaching so that her hands are placed upon both of your shoulders, “And you do. Promise me you will, YN.” 

“I will.” You quickly say, “I promise, I will.” 

“Good.” She sighs, dropping her hands from your shoulders, “You will not end up like me, I won’t let you.” 

“How have you ended up?” 

She looks at you with tears in her eyes, “I think I’m pregnant, YN.” 

You were holding a basket of food that your mother had collated for Harry and his father. You had knocked upon the door once and now you were stood, waiting for someone to open the door and let you in from the cold. The temperature had certainly dropped since you had been outside earlier, but you weren’t surprised at that fact. 

“Miss. YLN.” Harry’s father opens the door. You’ve only ever met him once, and from what Harry has told you, he’s quite a cold man, “May I ask why you’re here?” 

“Uh, my mother sent you and Harry some food over.” You say, holding up the basket within your hands, “I just came to deliver it.” 

“Please.” He says, “Come in.” 

You step through the threshold of the house, entering one that was three times the size of your own but just as empty as yours. 

“I’ll take that to the kitchen for you.” He says, holding his hands out so you can place the basket within them, “H is upstairs, in the library. Third door on the left.”  

“Thank you.” 

The stairs themselves were probably bigger than your entire house, and as you ran your hand across the wood of the banister you couldn’t believe how expensive it felt beneath your fingers. You followed Mr. Styles’ instruction and walked along the grand hallway until you found the third door on the left. It was slightly ajar, so you placed your hand upon the wood and push it open, the door creaking as you did so. 

Your mouth drops open at the sight of the room in front of you. When Mr. Styles said Library you thought it may have been a small room with bookshelves in it, but it wasn’t, it was a full library at the most. It was full of the most books you’ve ever seen anywhere, floor to ceiling bookshelves. You couldn’t help your want to run your fingers across every single cover. 

You spot Harry sat at the window, his knees bent and a book placed open upon them. You cross your hands in front of you, taking a few steps towards Harry. The sound of your shoes against the wooden floor notifies Harry that you’re there, and he lifts his eyes to look at you. 

“Are you okay?” He asks, closing the book that he had open. 

You take a few more steps towards him, sitting at the opposite side of windowsill to him, “I should be asking you that question.” 

He chuckles, lifting his leg up again so that it’s on the windowsill, “I’m okay.” 

“I don’t believe that.” You shake your head, coping him so your feet are up also and you’re facing him, “Tell me truthfully. How are you?” 

He shakes his head, dropping his eyes down to his knees, “She doesn’t want to marry me.” 

“You asked?” 

“Today.” He nods, looking back at you again, “I had a ring.” 

After a few seconds you whisper, “Can I see it?” 

“See what?” 

“The ring.” 

He opens his jacket and fumbles around in the inside pocket, bringing out a small blue velvet box which he throws towards you. You catch it, nearly dropping it but you manage to keep it in your hands. You raise your eyebrow at him and he offers a small smile, one that you knew wasn’t the most truthful of how he’s feeling.

You open the box and see a beautiful ring in the box. The ring itself was silver, but the thing that drew your and probably Harry to it was the gem. It looked to be diamond, not a large one at that but one that was a lovely sized. The light from the window caused the diamond to glimmer slightly, a gasp escaping from your lips.

“Harry.” You shake your head, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear, “It’s beautiful.” 

“I thought so too.” He says, running his thumb across his bottom lip before shrugging his shoulders, “Lizzie didn’t think so.” 

“It’s not because of you, Harry.” You quickly say, “Nothing to do with you.” 

“It must’ve been, YN.” He says, “You’re sister doesn’t want to marry me. Me! Not anyone else.” 

“She can’t marry you, Harry.” You say, the tears starting to collect in your eyes, “I don’t know whether if situations were different she would marry you, but in this situation it isn’t your fault. I can promise you that.” 

You watch a tear fall down is cheek, “Has she met someone else?” 

You look away, pursing your lips and closing your eyes to try and stop the tears from falling down your cheeks, “I’m so sorry, Harry.”

“Is it Theodore? Is she engaged to him?” 

“She will be.” You say, standing up and moving so that you’re in front of him, placing your hand upon his knee, “I’m so sorry, Harry.” 

“It’s not your fault.” 

“She’s my sister.” 

“You’re not in charge of her.” 

You reach forward and place your hand upon his cheek, using your thumb to delicately wipe the next year that falls out of his eye. His tilts his head slightly so that it’s nicely rested within your hand, and you smile at him, which his returns. 

“Did she ever love me?” 

“She did.” You say, nodding your head, “She loves you. She’s just not in love with you.” 

“That doesn’t make it any easier.”

You shake your head, “I don’t think anything will at this point. You just need to wait, time will heal. I’ll be here for you.” 

“I think.” He says, dropping his knees so that he can move closer to you, “I think you might be able to.” 

“Whatever you need, H.” You say.

He moves closer, you can feel him closer to you, but you certainly hadn’t expected for him to place his lips upon yours. The kiss at first in gentle, his lips pressed against yours so gently that at the start you couldn’t quite feel him upon you. Then it’s more urgent, with his hand placed upon your cheek, his lips moving against yours at a quick pace. 

“H.” You whisper, pulling away slightly as he removes his lips from yours, using them to dance down your cheek, to your jaw and then resting against the skin of your neck. 

He removed his hand from your cheek and hooking it underneath your thigh so he can manoeuvre you to be on his lap.

This is the first time you’ve ever kissed a boy, and you can’t believe that the boy of all people is Harry Styles. You hadn’t been this close to anyone before, straddled across his lap with your knees each side of his waist, your skirt bunched up at your waist. The second you were comfortable, his lips attached to your again, his hands rested upon the small of your back. A feeling brewed within you, causing your hips to involuntary buck towards his. You felt him smile against your lips, and that was when you snapped out of the daze that you were in.

Without really thinking, you pulled away and clambered off of his lap. He looked flushed as you pulled away, his hair a little messy and his lips red from the kissing. 

“No.” You hold your hand out at him, shaking your head, “You can’t do that.” 

“Why not?” He said, standing up and taking a few steps towards you. 

“Because. . . because you just can’t.” You shake your head, lifting your hands to run through your hair. 

“I thought.” He looks at you quizzically, “I thought that’s what you wanted.” 

“Maybe I did, a little bit.” You say, shaking your head, “But you didn’t want it to be me. You wanted it to be Lizzie.” 

“No.” He shakes his head, holding his hand out as if to touch yours, “I didn’t want that.” 

“You did, I know you Harry, and you did.” You sniffle slightly, shaking your head, “I’m not Lizzie and I’ll never be Lizzie, and I’ve accepted that. You’ll never love me like you love Lizzie, and I know that. But, Harry, I won’t be second best. I don’t deserve to be second best.” 

“You aren’t second best, YN!” 

You can’t help but let out a small sob at his words, “I am, Harry. From the first day that we met each other, Lizzie came first. She was the one who you couldn’t bore your eyes away from, not me. I don’t think I had a full conversation with you until Lizzie left for her classes.” 

“That’s not true, YN.” He shakes his head, “I swear to you, it isn’t.” 

“I’m sorry, Harry.” You take a few steps back, “I won’t be second best.” 

With that you turn away, leaving the house and leaving Harry. You couldn’t help the tears that fell as you walked across to your house. 

You had made the decision that day that you weren’t to stay in America, that you were going to leave and you knew that Aunt Jemima was the person you knew would be able to help you with that.

Your Aunt Jemima was getting older, but before she died she wanted to go to Europe on last time, more specifically France. She had asked you years ago to be her companion on the trip, and you had agreed, but that was the last time you’d ever spoken to her about it. On Christmas day, you had been the one to bring the idea back up in conversation, dropping in little hints until Aunt Jemima picked up what you were saying. She had been the one to say that in the new year you were going and that you had to be ready to leave on January second with no complaints, not that you had any anywhere. 

When Aunt Jemima’s carriage came, you said your farewell’s to your mother and you sister, and Theodore who had proposed to your sister the day prior — and left. As you sat in the carriage, you couldn’t help but look at Harry’s house, and you weren’t shocked to see him at the window watching your every move. You didn’t look away from the window until you could no longer see the house, when you turned to look straight in front of your, your gloved hands resting upon your knee. 

“Forget him.” Aunt Jemima says, sighing slightly and shaking her head, “He isn’t right for you.” 

“I have no idea what you are on about.” You shake your head, looking out of the small carriage window so that you don’t have to look at your Aunt. 

“That Styles boy.” She says, and you immediately snap your eyes towards her, “Don’t think I don’t know about the two of you.” 

“There isn’t anything to know.” You shake your head at her. 

“There obviously is.” She says, “Or you wouldn’t be sulking the way that you are.” 

“I’m not sulking.” 

“I haven’t brought a liar with me have I ?” She asks, raising her eyebrow at you.

“You haven’t.” She shakes her head, “I am sulking, I’m sorry.” 

“Apology accepted.” She says, pursing her lips, “Are you going to tell me about him, then?” 

“There’s nothing to tell.”

“You’re about to cry, my dear.” She flutters her eyes to you slightly, “I could sense your heartbreak from a mile away. He’s the reason you wanted to come, isn’t he?” 

“I wanted to come.” You say, messing with your fingers that sat on your lap, “He just. . . gave me a reason to finally do it.” 

“I think he’s the idiot in this situation.” She says after a few seconds and your lips part in shock, before you clamp them back together, “He’s the one who got involved with you and your sister. I wonder if he can even get out of bed.” 

“What does that mean?” 

“Well. First of all your sister broke his heart by not marrying him and marrying that other man, I’ve already forgotten his name.” She shakes her head, “Then you broke his heart by doing whatever you did when you went to go see him on Christmas Eve and you’ve been depressed ever since you left.” 

“Who told you that?” 

“Who do you think?” Aunt Jemima clicks her tongue and shakes her head, “My daughter told me. Wouldn’t stop crying saying that you’re leaving the love of your life and her other daughters pregnant by some pretentious nobody.” 

You run your hand over your forehead, scrunching your face at the fact that everyone knew, “My mother knows too much.” 

“Your mother just knows you.” Aunt Jemima shakes her head, “At least you haven’t ruined your life before it’s even begun, with a child of all things.” 

“You’re just saying that because you never had children.” 

“Why would I want an offspring of myself and some other man?”

“It’s about love, Aunt Jemima.” You can tell that you’re about to cry, so again you turn your head, “When you love someone, that’s something to bring that love into a being.” 

“I just don’t see why.” She says, curling up her nose, “But then again, that’s why I’m seventy, unmarried and childless. Don’t think about the Styles boy too much. You’re going to a different country for heavens sake, think of all of the people that you’ll meet whilst you’re there. You’ll forget him soon, my dear, and he’ll forget you. That’s what we’ll hope for anyway.” 

The tears do start to fall now, in quick streams down down your cheeks. You couldn’t stop them. Aunt Jemima, no matter how much you despised her sometimes, she certainly knew what she was talking about. You turned your head so that you were looking away from your aunt, looking out of the window and trying your hardest not to let any sobs fall out of your lips.

You did love Harry and if he had stopped your from getting into the carriage, your probably would. If he had asked to marry you, you probably would have said yes without any hesitation but at the same time you also felt as though you were second best, and that wasn’t a place that you ever thought you’d be.

No matter how much you loved him, and yearned to be with him, you knew for the sake of your sanity and for the sake of staying as a strong independent woman. You were taught from being young from your mother that no matter how many people try to say that all you were worth is more than just being the wife of some rich man. Your mother also said that you had a talent and that you had to use it. 

France was going to be the place that you were going to use your talents, and be a better person for doing so. 

Four Years Later

“Pierre.” You say, smiling at the man as he held his hand out to you, “Puis-je vous demander ce que vous faites?” May I ask what you’re doing? 

“Je demande à la plus belle fille de la pièce de danser.” You can’t help the blush that falls across your cheeks. You nod your head and slip your hand into his, standing up and following him into the middle of the dance floor. I’m asking the most beautiful girl in the room to dance. 

The music changes around them to one of the most popular songs in Paris to dance to. He lifts his arm up, just as you do to his, and start the movements in the same way that everyone else in the room had.

You had arrived in France with Aunt Jemima four years ago, fresh faced after the journey and ready to start your new life there.  At first it took a while for you to get used to the new life that you now lived. Aunt Jemima’s French house, if it was even possible, was bigger that her house back home with more nooks and crannies to explore but more importantly, a bigger garden that you could paint every corner of. The main thing that you focused on during the first few months of your arrival was settling in and learning the language which you knew would be hard, but it was something that you needed to do. 

Pierre was the person who had helped you do that. 

Aunt Jemima had hired him to be your French tutor. She said that he was one of the best for you, and that he certainly was. You learnt the basics within the first few months until you were able to finally communicate with the people around you in their native language. At first, you despised Pierre and his pretentious way of making you feel small, but here you were, fours years later, dancing with him and waiting for his proposal at some point. 

Aunt Jemima would be turning within her grave if she knew you were planning to marry Pierre. Even though she hired him when you first arrived to teach you, but she found him incompetent to do anything else. She could tell that you were falling for him, and told you multiple times to not settle for him but you were ignoring her. 

If you listened to every one who your Aunt Jemima told you to not settle for, you’d never marry at all. 

“Do you have plans tomorrow?” He asks, in English this time, his accent seeping through with every word that he spoke. 

“Plans?” You raise your eyebrow, “To paint, yes, but I suppose I can clear my schedule.” 

After learning the French language, that was when you had started your painting classes. You started taking everything in, listening to every single word the teacher said to you until you were good enough to start on your own. The first time one of your pieces was shown in an exhibit, people loved it, and you found yourself creating more and more works and creating more and more links with people around. 

“Do.” He says, nodding his head, “Je veux t’emmener quelque part. Quelque part spécial.” I want to take you somewhere. Somewhere special.

You bite your lip, nodding your head whilst trying to suppress the large smile that’s ready to cross your entire face. 

Pierre was a hopeless romantic, always showering you in large gestures that caused your heart to flutter within your chest. He hadn’t kissed you, and even though you knew that you knew deep down that you shouldn’t compare it, you found yourself not feeling the way that you did the last time you found yourself with a man. 

At twenty-three you were late to get married, and if you ever wanted kids you would have to do so quicker than anything you had ever done in your life because you knew that your days were going to start become numbered. 

“What time should I be ready?” 

“I’ll pick you up at eleven.” 

The song ends, your courtesy and he bows and that’s when you walk back towards the table you were sat at, picking up your glass of Champagne and taking a sip. 

“YN.” You stop drinking immediately, nearly choking on the liquid that you had already started to sip. You know that voice anywhere, etched into your brain from when you were just a mere eighteen year old with a heart twice the size of the one you had now, “As I live and breathe.” 

You turn around, immediately seeing a man that you had left years ago stood in front of you. He looked exactly the same as when you knew him all those years ago, except his features were a tad harder and his hair curler that it was before if it was even possible which you weren’t too sure about. 

“Harry.” You swallow the lump in your throat, placing your glass down on the table and turning so that you were facing him, “It’s been a while.” 

“It certainly has.” He says, lifting his own glass to his lips, “You look good. Happy.” 

“I am.” You nod your head. You look at him, his eyes emptier that you had ever seen them before, not even when Lizzie refused to marry him, “I wish I could say the same for you, but. . .” 

“I look exhausted.” 

“You do.” You say, watching as his lips curled up into a smile as do yours, “How are you? Genuinely.” 

“I’m. . .” 

“Ma chérie.” You feel an arm slip around your waist, rest upon the small of it as he stands next to you, “Qui est-ce?” My darling. Who is this? 

“Ah.” You brush a piece of your hair that had fallen out of place away from your face, “Pierre, this is Harry. Harry this is Pierre.” 

Harry raises his eyebrows, lifting the glass to his lips to drink the rest of it. As you watch, it doesn’t seem to even hits the sides with how quickly he drinks it. 

“Bonjour.” Pierre holds his hand out to Harry, “Comment allez vous?”

Harry looks at Pierre’s hand but he doesn’t shake it, and that’s when you lift your fingers to run against your forehead, “Are you two, marié?” Married.

“No.” You shake your head, stepping to the side slightly so that Pierre’s hand isn’t upon your waist anymore, “We are. . .” 

“Courting.” Pierre’s quick to interject, “I think that’s what to call it.” 

You watch as Harry’s eyebrows raise, and without saying anything to the two of you, he turns around and mutters, “I need another drink.” 

As he walks away, you can see the slight stagger in his walk, one that many intoxicated people hold and you know that him being not himself treads deeper than just seeing you there today. 

“YN.” Pierre places a hand upon your shoulder, “How do you know that man?” 

“He’s someone from home.” You say, watching as Harry drinks another full glass of Champagne where he’s staggered off to, “He’s an old friend.” 

He leans down until you can feel his breath at your ear, “Just a friend.” 

You nod, leaning into him as he places a kiss to your neck, “Bien.” Good.

Since Pierre wasn’t picking you up until eleven, you decide that you have the time to at least start your next painting. In the garden of your Aunts house that you had inherited, you had built a gazebo with the money that you had made from selling your art pieces to exhibits that overlooked the garden and the pond from the four different directions that it had around it. 

You had decided that the swans that swum in the pond were looking particularly delightful today and you decide that is the direction that you want to start your painting. You set up your easel and your canvas, as well as your paints that you brought on a palette and start figuring out the dimensions of the painting and what you wanted it to look like. 

You hold up your paintbrush, closing one of your eyes as you move it from portrait to landscape and back again. 

“You always were a perfectionist.” The paintbrush in your hand clatters you the ground as it slips through your fingers, due to you jumping. You weren’t expecting anyone to be here, and you certainly weren’t expecting to hear his voice. 

“And you always had a tendency to shock people.” He laughs, his dress shoes hitting the decking with loud pats.

“My apologies.” He says, slipping one of his hands into the pocket of his trousers, taking another step closer to you, “I didn’t mean to shock you, love.” 

You place your palette down, brushing your hands off slightly on your apron. You’d usually wear your comfortable clothes to paint in, the attire usually not even being a skirt but often trousers, but because you were meeting Pierre later, you knew that you had to dress up. It wasn’t the fanciest dress you owned, but the light blue material complimented your features in a way that you just couldn’t resist when you saw it in the shop. 

“Yes you did.” You lips curl up into a smile, “You forget that I know you Harry, even after all these years.” 

“Lots of things can change in four years, YN.” 

“You haven’t.” 

“You haven’t, either.” He smiles.

You tuck a piece of your hair behind your ear and take a step closer to him, clearing your throat slightly as you do so, “I want to apologise for last night. Pierre can be a little. . .” 

“Intrusive.” Harry leans against the pillar nearest to him and you nod, knowing that is exactly what he is. 

“I’m very sorry. I would have loved to have caught up with you.” 

“I probably wouldn’t have been in the best frame of mind to do so.” He runs his fingers through his hair, “I was drunk, if you couldn’t tell.” 

“I could.” 

“Now.” He lifts his hand up and motions to the garden around you, “Are you going to tell me what I’ve missed in the last four years?” 

“Uh.” You move so you’re stood next to him, leant against the barrier, “I moved with Aunt Jemima. This was her house but she died a year ago, if I remember correctly. She left me the house in her will, and I decided that I wanted to stay.” 

“Have you been at home at all during the last four years?” 

You nod your head, “I went home when Lizzie got married, that was when I met Anna for the first time. Then I went back for Aunt Jemima’s funeral because she decided she didn’t want to be buried here.” 

“I must have missed you.” He says, “I spent a lot of the last four years in England with my grandparents.” 

“Lizzie told me.” You say, “She said that she did invite you to the wedding but your father explained that you were in England.” 

He nods his head, “I left a few months after you. I think my father was fed up of my moping.” 

It shouldn’t have hurt you, but his words did. Your chest squeezed slightly at his words. Even though you knew you were doing what you were doing to benefit yourself, you couldn’t lie and say that you hadn’t missed him. You had lost a friend when you left, as well as your first love. 

“Are you married?” You ask, not really knowing why the words escape from your lips in the way that they do. 

He shakes his head, holding his hand up to reveal his completely ring free hand, “Nope. I can’t really say that I’ve been looking.” 

“I’m sure you’ve had opportunities.” You say, “You’re the perfect gentlemen, Harry. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve had women queuing to marry you.” 

He chuckles, scratching the back of his neck, “People have tried but I haven’t been interested.” 

“Why not?” 

“Some may say that I’m still hung up on somebody.” His eyes flutter away from yours, and you take it as the opportunity to look down at your hands, “But that doesn’t matter. What about you and Mr. Intrusive.” 

You chuckle, lifting your eyes up to look at his, “He was my French language teacher. I didn’t like him, despised him to be fair but here were are a few years later and I think he’s going to propose to me later today.” 

“Do you want to marry him?” 

If you were asked this question but anybody else, you probably would have immediately said yes and that was enough for you to know that you should marry him. But seeing Harry stood there, the way that he is, waiting for you to answer what should be one of the easiest questions ever, reminds you that this may have gotten a lot more confusing now with Harry’s reappearance. 

“I. . .” You hesitate and drop your eyes down to the ground again, “I think so.” 

“You think?” He says, “I can’t say that I believe that you do if you only think that you want to marry him.” 

“I do.” You say, quickly. 

Harry stands up and takes a few steps towards the opposite end of the gazebo, “Do you love him?” 

This answer, so it should be another one, was easy to answer, “No.” 

“Then why are you marrying him.” 

“I’m twenty-three, Harry.” You say, your heels tapping the wood as you move to stand next to him, looking at the pond in front of you, “I’m certainly not getting any younger. If I returned home to mother and father without a husband and children I believe they would disown me.” 

“They wouldn’t.” He shakes his head, “They love you too much.” 

“I’ve had three letters from them asking about grandchildren.” You deadpan, looking at him with a stoic look on their face. 

“I’m sure they wouldn’t want to marry someone who you don’t love.” He says.

“If I don’t marry Pierre, who will I marry?” 

After a few seconds, the smallest whispers escapes his lips, “You could marry me.” 

The whole world seems to slow down around you, and you turn to look at him. He’s already looking at you, with those green eyes that you became so accustomed to all those years ago. You knew each other in all for three months, but you spent every second of every day with each other when Lizzie was away, and it certainly showed with how close you became. Marrying Harry could be the thing that you need, have always needed. You haven’t been as happy as you were when you were back him with him in a long time. 

“Harry.” You say, the words coming out in a small whisper, “You can’t mean that.” 

“I do.” He says, quickly to say the least, “I haven’t been more sure about anything in my life before.” 

“Harry—”

“Madame.” One of the groundskeepers say, walking towards the two of you, “Monsieur Perney est là.” Mr. Perney is here. 

“Merci, Alfred.” You clear your throat to try and mask the uncertainty in your voice, “Ça ne prendra qu’un seconde.” Thank you, Alfred. I will only be a second. 

The man nods and walks away, and you turn back to look at Harry, who has the same look on his face as you do on yours. There’s a level of defeat between the two of you. 

“I need to, um, go meet with Pierre.” You say, hands gripping the material of your dress. 

“Is that a no?” He takes a step towards you. 

You sigh, “It’s a, I have to think about it.” 

He nods, “When will you know? This is probably a good time to tell you that I’m leaving tomorrow.” 

That changed everything. It wasn’t as though now you had a few days to think through and make your decision, you had to make it quickly before he goes. 

“Tomorrow?” 

He nods, “Father’s ill. Paris was my last hooray before I go back home to be an adult.” 

You take a few moments to think, “Will you be able to return back here this evening?” 

“For you? Of course.” He says as though he doesn’t even have to think about it. 

You nod your head and take a few steps towards him, pressing a kiss to his cheek, “Goodbye Harry.” 

“I’ll see you later, love.” 

“C’est une belle journée.” Pierre says as the two of you walk side by side around a park, the spring heat light upon your skin as you do so. It’s a beautiful day. 

“It is.” You say, not being able to pull your eyes away from the ground below you.

You knew that you shouldn’t be thinking about this at all, that it wasn’t fair to Pierre, but all you could think about was Harry. You couldn’t get the look of his face out of your head as you kissed his cheek and walked away, as though he felt like that was it between the two of you. You were still unsure of the decision that you were going to make, but once you found yourself stood at the top of some steps, looking out at the park below, you knew that you were to make your decision sooner of later. 

“Is something bothering you?” 

“No.” You shake your head, finally lifting your eyes to look at his, “Everything is swell, thank you.” 

“Good.” He takes a step closer so that his fingers are brushing yours, “YN?” 

“Yes?” 

“We’ve known each other for a long time.” He says, and the two of you turn so that you’re facing each other, his hands gripping yours, “A very long time, and I was wondering whether I could ask you something?” 

“We have.” You know what the question is before the words have left his lips, and you’re already beginning to prepare yourself for what you’re going to hear the next time he open his lips, “And you can.” 

He clears his throat and fumbles within his inside pocket, drawing out what you know is a ring box. He lets go of your hand which he was still holding with his free one and drops down to his knee, using his other hand to open the small box. 

“YN YLN.” He sighs, “Ma chérie. Will you marry me?” 

The same feeling that you felt before overcomes you, when the whole world around you seems to be moving in slow motion. He looks so happy, his cheeks lifting in a wide grin that you can’t seem to shake from your sight. You can’t even bring yourself to look at the ring he had chosen for you, because it was at that time, seeing him on his knee, that you know what your answer is. 

“I’m so sorry, Pierre.” You slip your bottom lip between your teeth, “I don’t think I can.” 

“What?” His whole face drops, and guilt starts to wash over you. He immediately stands up, looking at you with wide eyes, “No?” 

You shake your head, “I’m so sorry, Pierre.” 

“I thought that you wanted to marry me.” He shakes his head, “Comment ai je pu être si stupide?” How could I have been so stupid?

“You haven’t. I promise you, Pierre.” You reach your hand forward to touch his arm, but he moves away from you, not wanting you to touch him you suppose, “I did want to marry you.” 

“What has changed?” You look at him with sad eyes, tears threatening to spill and you watch the realisation flutter across his features, “He has.” 

You drop your head, lifting your hand to wipe away the tears that had started to spill, “I’m so sorry.” 

“Who is he?” His features switch to angry ones next, and his voice deepens and it shocks you to say the least, “You have never mentioned him and now you will not marry me because of him?” 

“He’s an old friend from hime, like I said.” You repeat your words from the party last night, “I haven’t seen him since I moved here.” 

“Do you love him?” The words are quick to leave his lips and you once again drop your head, in shame if you are completely honest, “Do you? I want to hear you say it?” 

“I do.” His hostile tone scared you into answering, “I always have.” 

“Did you ever love me?” 

You shake your head, the little movement causing him to throw you one of the worst looks you’ve ever seen in your life and stalk away from you. Tears stream down your face, and you know that you probably look the worst you’ve ever looked in your life at this given moment but you couldn’t care less. You thought that you’d feel worse than you do, but you you feel more relieved than anything. You feel bad that you’ve had to break his heart, but the idea of going back home with Harry, seeing your family and saying that he is the man that you’re going to marry was enough for your heart to burst with excitement. 

In your opinion, you couldn’t return home quick enough. The second you return to the house you’re fluttering around as quickly as possible, packing all the belongings that you’d need immediately when you returned but you knew that you could get the rest of your belongings shipped in at a later date. 

The evening rolled around quicker that you had imagined it would, but you supposed time went quickly when you’re packing to go across the world with the love of your life. When you hear the knock at your door, you race to open it, not caring what people think because all you want is to see him. 

You throw the door open, and there he is, stood in the exact same suit that you’d seen him in earlier. He did look tireder then he did earlier, but if you had spent the day worrying you probably would’ve looked worse than he did. 

“Come in.” You open the door wider, so that he can step in, “Please.” 

He takes a few seconds to look around at the entrance way to the house, his lips parting at the sheer size of it as you did when you first arrived. Aunt Jemima was an odd woman, you couldn’t lie, but she certainly knew how to pick a lovely house. You’d probably sell it now that you were going back to America. 

He looked around for a while before he noticed your pile of belongings in the corner, all packed away and ready to leave. 

His eyes meet yours and he looks as though he’s going to cry at any given moment, “Really?” 

You nod your head, “I want to marry you, Harry. Always have.” 

He takes two steps forward and places his lips on yours, his hands falling to your cheeks. It sent you back to four years ago, stood in the library after you’d just kissed him. You couldn’t believe that he was back with you, kissing your lips in the way that you had yearned for him too for so many years. 

He pulls away and rests his head upon yours with a sigh, “I haven’t stopped thinking about you. Ever since that day. I should’ve done more.” 

“It was my fault.” You thread your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, “I shouldn’t have left. I should have sulked for a while but gone back to you. I missed you so terribly.” 

“I know why you did it.” He says, pressing another quick kiss to your lips, “I shouldn’t have proposed to your sister when it was you who made me happy. I knew that I shouldn’t have the second I said it, and I’m sorry for that.” 

“We’ll start a fresh.” You whisper, resting your forehead upon his, “Forget everything that happened four years ago and start fresh. I love you, Harry. I always have.” 

“I love you too.” 

You lean forward and place your lips on his again, his hands resting comfortably upon your waist. It felt so familiar for you to be in his arms, his lips upon yours. He was the only person you had ever kissed, and now he’d be the only person that you’d ever kiss, and you certainly weren’t complaining about that. 

“You may now kiss the bride!” 

Harry smiles at you, and you beam up at him before the two of you lean forward and kiss each other. Cheers and applause erupt around the two of you, as well as confetti and flowers being thrown across the two of you as you walk down the aisle. 

You had arrived a few months ago from Paris, and immediately thrown into trying to nurse Harry’s father back to health, which didn’t go to plan. It was hard on Harry, but he had you and that was the most important thing to him. His Father gave you his blessing for the marriage, saying that it was the best thing he’d heard in a while. The funeral was a few weeks later, and the two of you decided to have the wedding two months afterwards.

The two of you were moving into Harry’s house, across the road from the house that your mother and father still lived in. You had so many plans for what you wanted to do to with the place, seeing as though it was way too big for the two of you to live in on your own. 

It was your wedding night, and you were walking up towards the front door of the house when you felt Harry’s arm slipping under your thighs. You squeal as he picks you up, wrapping your arms around Harry’s neck. Giggling, you lean forward and place a kiss to his cheek, causing the dimples to show within his cheeks. 

“I love you, husband.” You say, smiling as he places you down in the entry way. 

“I love you too.” He leans forward and places a kiss to your lips, “Wife.” 

It was as though the atmosphere within the room changed the second he said that word. His hands found your hips, resting on the material of your dress. You took a step backwards, causing you to press your back against the inside of the door, your lips immediately attacked by his. Your hips involuntarily buck up to Harry’s, causing a groan to escape from his lips. After a few seconds, he pulls away, kissing down your neck. 

“Harry.” You whisper, feeling a moan ready to tumble from your lips at the feeling of his teeth grazing your neck, “Take me upstairs.” 

“Are you sure?” You nod your head and he’s quick to pick you up again, this time carrying you over his shoulder. You squeal and grip his shoulders to steady yourself, “Better give my wife what she wants.”

Once you were up the stairs safely, he placed you down and connected your lips again. The first thing you did once your feet touched the ground again, you gripped the edge of his suit jacket and pushed it off his shoulders, listening to the material tumble to the ground and drop. 

“Can I take your shirt off?” You mumble against his lips and he hums, allowing you to unbutton his shirt and shrugging that material off of his shoulders. This was the most you’d seen of Harry naked, and another human being at that. 

“What about you?” He says, walking you both back until he’s sat on the bed, “Can I see you?” 

“You’ll have to help.” You giggle, turning around. He starts to unbutton your dress, letting the material slip from your body into a pile upon the floor. He starts to unfasten your corset next, allowing that to slip from your body also. You were very exposed now, and you knew that, but the way that Harry looked at you sent all of your worries flying from your head. 

He leaned back on his arms and clambered back into his lap, similarly to the way you had done all those years ago when you first kissed in the library of this very house. You wrapped your arms around his neck, just has his rested upon the exposed skin of your waist. 

“YN?” You hum against his lips, “Can I make you feel good?” 

You pull away and nod, tucking some of your hair behind your ear. It made you feel nervous that he was going to see you in the way that he was but this was Harry, your husband and the person you had wished to be touching you and near to the years that you had been apart. He helps remove the rest of your undergarments until you’re completely naked in front of him, laying and waiting for whatever he is going to do to you. He removes his trousers and underwear as you do so. There’s something about seeing him like that causes your hear to flutter and the rest of you to follow it. 

He hovers over you, pressing another chaste kiss to your lips before moving down your neck and to your chest until he reaches your breasts, pressing kiss to the plushy skin around it until he wraps his lips around your nipple, lifting his hand up to pinch the other one between his fingers. 

“Fuck, love.” He smiles up at you as you whither beneath him, feeling all of your senses heightened at the feeling of him on your skin. 

He kisses down from your breasts to your stomach until his face is directly where you want it the most, where you’re literally throbbing for him. Without any warning, he leans forward and starts to attack your clit with his tongue, causing your hips to buck up from the bed and moans threatening to spill from your lips. Your hand drops to the top of his head, tugging at the curls that rest there. You’ve never felt like this, ever, in your life and you believe that if you feel it too much you will become accustomed to it. Your thighs try to clamp around his head but he stops you from doing so by gripping your thighs with his hands. After a particularly hard tug of his curls, a moan erupts from Harry and vibrates against your clit causing you to shudder. 

He moved one of his hands up from your thigh to run over your wet slit, “Can I?” 

“Please.” You’re quite embarrassed about how breathy it comes out but once he slips one of his fingers in, and a whine escapes his lips you can’t be bothered to care about the sounds that are leaving your lips. 

“I need to stretch you out.” He says, curling his finger in you, “Can I?” 

You nod your head, “Please.” 

He pushes another finger into you, leaning his head back down to attack your clit again. He’s quite gentle with his tongue, using it to make a skilled attack on your clit, using it and his fingers to coax you closer and closer to the first ever orgasm you are to experience. 

“Harry.” You whine his name and the feeling washes over you quicker than you had expected it too, but at the same time the man knew what he was doing and you to bring you to that peak. He continued to move his fingers and kitten lick at your clit until your thighs stop shaking. Once you have, he moves up your body again and kisses you. 

“Good?” 

“Really good.” You laugh, wrapping your arm around his neck, “I want to feel you, H.” 

“Certain? Because we don’t have to if you don’t want to.” 

“I do.” You place your hand on his cheek, pecking his lips, “I want to.” 

“I don’t want to hurt you.” 

You smile, “It’s going to hurt whether we do it now or later. I want to.” 

It’s uncomfortable to say the least, the feeling contrasting the one that you had felt earlier. You weren’t in a lot of pain, but it made it a little harder to feel the pleasure that you know you can feel from this act, Lizzie had told you plenty about it when you were younger. Harry grunted as he pushed into you, scrunching up his features. From the way that little groans and deep breaths escaped his lips, you knew that he was feeling an immense amount of pleasure. 

“Feel good?” He grunts against your neck, pressing a small kiss to the skin as you smile, running your nails down his back. You knew that he was close, from the way he twitched inside of you, and your tried everything to coax it out of him. 

“Feel so good, love.” He comes soon after his words, spilling into you and filling you up. 

He collapses on top of you and you hold him close to you, pushing his curls off of his forehead that have stuck. You giggle as his pouts his lips, leaning down to play a kiss to them. 

“I love you so much.” You smile. 

“And I, you.” He pulls you close, “You were never second best, I hope you know that.” 

“I do now.” 

Three Years Later

“Mary.” You smile, placing your hand on the back of the little girls shoulder, “That looks beautiful.” 

“Thank you, Mrs. Styles.” She says, continuing to add the green paint to her painting. 

You and Harry figured out not that long after what do with the large house you had been left by his father. With your art and French skills, and Harry’s love for reading and slight knowledge of simple maths, you decided to convert the house into a school for the kids in the village. It was a place for them to come without having to worry and learn and focus on new skills. 

At this point you had just finished one of your art classes and left the kids to let their creativity flow with some paper and paints, as well as pencils and other materials for them to use. You were making your way outside, smiling at the sight of Harry sat in the garden with a group of children sat around him, listening to every word he spoke as he read from a book. 

The next thing you saw was your sister, stood with her husband and her children. You were surprised to see your little boy, Oscar, sat comfortably in her arms. The second he sees you, he’s making grabby arms in your direction. 

He had just turned one and was now in a phase of not wanting to walk but be carried everywhere. He was certainly his father’s son, in more ways than one. He looked identical to his father, with green eyes and unruly brown curls and dimples, but he was also the exact same person as your husband, and if you thought it was a struggle to live with one Harry Styles, having an Oscar Styles as well was just as hard. 

“Hi baby.” You pick him up and place him on your hip, his hand resting on your neck lovingly. From the way he drops his head to your shoulder, you can tell he’s almost ready for his nap. You smile and press a kiss to his cheek. 

Harry comes over a few seconds later and kisses you on the lips briefly and places a kiss to Oscar’s cheeks. The two of you look over at what you have created for the kids around you and smile at each other. 

“I’m glad I didn’t give up on you.” 

“Me neither.” You smile, “I love you, mon chéri.” 

“I love you too.” 

Oscar looks up at the two of you with a pout on his lips, causing Harry to chuckle, “And we love you too, little man.” 

[humanitys-shortest]

✨Simself Tag!!✨

I was tagged by the lovely @shyysims to do the Simself Tag, so here we go with the 125 bloody questions! (I commend whoever came up with all of them, because that’s a lot of brain power that I do not possess.) But! I’m so excited to do this, so thank you so much shyysims!! (●´ω｀●)

I will tag @calsea-ger, @alienshootlove, @wolfy-drawsstuff, @hallucinosims and @stories4sims - of course, you don’t have too! Only if you wanna & have the spare time. :D

Rules: You have to make a simself and include whatever you wish (like traits or anything about you) Then answer the following questions!! (✿◠‿◠)

And heeeree weee go~

Traits: creative, coffee lover(I liked the icon bcuz I love warm drinks but I actually hate coffee dont sue me), geek, music lover, a photo album, geek, loner, hearts(cuz I’m full of love duh) and bookworm!

I also included my aspiration - to become a photographer. 

What is your full name? Charlotte

What is your nickname? Char, Lottie, and Petey!

Birthday? February 22nd

What is your favorite book series? ..Twilight..

Do you believe in aliens or ghosts? Yep!

Who is your favorite author? I wish I could say J.K Rolling but I’ll go with Stephenie Meyer cuz Twilight fueld my younger teenage years.

What is your favorite radio station? Heaven knows

What is your favorite flavor of anything? Wellllll s’kinda confusing! I love chocolate flavoured ice-cream but I can’t have chocolate flavoured crisps, can I? I’m just gonna go with chocolate. 🍫

What word would you use often to describe something great or wonderful? awesomeeee possssummmm

What is your current favorite song? Flightless Bird, American Mouth by Iron & Wine

What is your favorite word? coolio

What was the last song you listened to? Lisztomania by Phoenix 

What TV show would you recommend for everybody to watch? Gotham!!

What is your favorite movie to watch when you’re feeling down? The Amazing Spider-Man

Do you play video games? Yessiree

What is your biggest fear? Moths & heights

What is your best quality, in your opinion? my storytelling? I’m pretty proud of the ideas I come up with, if that means anything. xD

What is your worst quality, in your opinion? S’always overthinking everything.

Do you like cats or dogs better? kitty

What is your favorite season? Autumn & Winter - can’t chooseeee!!

Are you in a relationship? Yep :)

What is something you miss from your childhood? I relate with @shyysims’ last answer - friends, lmao.

Who is your best friend? My Amber

What is your eye color? Dark brown

What is your hair color? Dark brown

Who is someone you love? My boyf and my bestfriend

Who is someone you trust? The above :)

Who is someone you think about often? Jack Napier

Are you currently excited about/for something? AVENGERS INFINITY WAR TRAILER POSSIBLY DROPPING TOMORROW

What is your biggest obsession? rn, batjokes ofc!!

What was your favorite TV show as a child? Ed, Edd and Eddy & Rugratz. c:

Who of the opposite gender can you tell anything to, if anyone? My s/o

Are you superstitious? kinda?

Do you have any unusual phobias? Not that I can think of? Ooh! I hate it when a single strand of hair lands on my skin or something. It freaks me out cuz it feels weird.

Do you prefer to be in front of the camera or behind it? Behind. I take the photos, I ain’t in them :P

What is your favorite hobby? Writing! Followed by gaming!!

What was the last book you read? Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them (script)

What was the last movie you watched? Fantastic Beasts, The Crimes Of Grindelwald

What musical instruments do you play, if any? The triangle.

What is your favorite animal? Wolves! I also rlly rlly love deers and elephants.

What are your top 5 favorite Tumblr blogs that you follow? mellie, freddie-luthor, wolfy, elijah & smolbeanjoker :)

What superpower do you wish you had? The power of SELF DAMN CONFIDENCE

When and where do you feel most at peace? Anywhere my s/o is.

What makes you smile? Jack Napier :)

What sports do you play, if any? I used to really love playing basketball and cricket. S’been ages.

What is your favorite drink? Any kind of hot chocolate. :)

When was the last time you wrote a hand-written letter or note to somebody? October for my bestfriends birthday. :D

Are you afraid of heights? b o i 

What is your biggest pet peeve? Liars?

Have you ever been to a concert? Not with this anxiety I haven’t 

Are you vegan/vegetarian? No. but full respect to those who are :)

When you were little, what did you want to be when you grew up? When I was in primary school, a zoo-keeper... high-school, an author.

What fictional world would you like to live in? The fuckin Harry Potter world please.

What is something you worry about? Life

Are you scared of the dark? Not really

Do you like to sing? Yep! But can I? Nope.

Have you ever skipped school? Uhh yes

What is your favorite place on the planet? My bed

Where would you like to live? Anywhere near a forest/woodland. Honestly Arcadia Bay is my aesthetic.

Do you have any pets? One doggo, three kitto’s.

Are you more of an early bird or a night owl? twittwoo

Do you like sunrises or sunsets better? Sunsets

Do you know how to drive? No :c

Do you prefer earbuds or headphones? Earbuds

Have you ever had braces? Nada

What is your favorite genre of music? The LIS Soundtrack is a genre of music, right?

Who is your hero? Peter Parker.

Do you read comic books? What do you think if my account is based on Batman hmmmm

What makes you the most angry? Liars

Do you prefer to read on an electronic device or with a real book? Real book

What is your favorite subject in school? Media

Do you have any siblings? two sisters, two brothers

What was the last thing you bought? a selection box. for myself. no no m’actually sharing with @crycel ;)

How tall are you? 5′3

Can you cook? Toast? Yes.

What are three things that you love? My boyfriend, my bestfriend and Jack Napier

What are three things that you hate? liars, my lack of self confidence n’ belief, and widowmaker auto-lockers

Do you have more female friends or more male friends? Female

What is your sexual orientation? pink yellow and blue baby

Where do you currently live? tea land

Who was the last person you texted? Ammmbaaah

When was the last time you cried? Last week?

Who is your favorite YouTuber? Depends on my mood! But recently it’s Shane

Do you like to take selfies? I do, because I really wanna try and bring my self confidence up. Buuuut most of the time it fails and I just feel worse about myself god dammit

What is your favorite app? tech not an app but ao3

What is your relationship with your parent(s) like?

What is your favorite foreign accent? Aussies!!

What is a place that you’ve never been to, but you want to visit? Bristol. To see my bestfriend.

What is your favorite number? 7

Can you juggle? xD

Are you religious? no

Do you find outer space or the deep ocean to be more interesting? Outer space 

Do you consider yourself to be a daredevil? Absolutely not

Are you allergic to anything? Some sort of washing power lmao my skin doesn’t likey much

Can you curl your tongue? nuuu

Can you wiggle your ears? nuuuuuuuu

How often do you admit that you were wrong about something? As soon as I realize I am

Do you prefer the forest or the beach? forest

What is your favorite piece of advice that anyone has ever given you? always try and see the good side of things

Are you a good liar? Mehhhh

What is your Hogwarts House? HUFFLEPOOF

Do you talk to yourself? not really?

Are you an introvert or an extrovert? introvert 

Do you keep a journal/diary? used too! Now I have scrapbooks, if thats any consolation 

Do you believe in second chances? Yes. But it’s got me into trouble, lmao

If you found a wallet full of money on the ground, what would you do? Turn it in somewhere, whatever shop/place is closest if they’re trustworthy

Do you believe that people are capable of change? Yes and no

Are you ticklish? ...no

Have you ever been on a plane? Hell no

Do you have any piercings? all natural bby

What fictional character do you wish was real? Peter Parker. (but i’m the female version of him okay)

Do you have any tattoos? Not yet

What is the best decision that you’ve made in your life so far? HAH

Do you believe in karma? aye

Do you wear glasses or contacts? I think I need glasses tbf

Do you want children? no, my sim bbies are my children. and my cats.

Who is the smartest person you know? my bestfriend (sorry boyf)

What is your most embarrassing memory? we don’t go there

Have you ever pulled an all-nighter? what’s sleep? at least, CONISTENT HOURS of sleep?

What color are most of you clothes? Black from my emo days, but now I’m really into yellows and soft colours

Do you like adventures? Yessss, as long as I’m with someone I feel safe with

Have you ever been on TV? I hope not

How old are you? 19

What is your favorite quote? “ohana means family, family means nobody gets left behind or forgotten.” or  “worrying means you suffer twice”

Do you prefer sweet or savory foods? Sweet

YAY

[yeoldontknow]

Cover Me

Author’s Note: happy birthday @yeolology <3 im just managing to sneak this one in for you <3 in your time zone, it is no longer you birthday but when you wake we will continue the celebration <3 welcome back to chanvember everyone!! enjoy more fluff that i am not used to writing! Pairing: Chanyeol x Reader (oc; female) Summary: On your birthday, you search frantically for your boyfriend’s hoodie only to find it is no longer there. Genre: fluff; romance Rating: PG Warning: minor swearing Word Count: 1,841

Technically, the hoodie is his.

His money paid for it, his hands chose it, loved it, without you in mind - years before he met you, and still suiting his taste even after you decided you liked it, too. Technically, it was never something you could rightfully call yours. Even though you wore it, even though you kept it, even though you imagined it was his body and his skin that kept you warm, breathing the scent of his cologne deep into your lungs while you wrapped yourself in the soft fabric, it still belonged to him.

Technically, these are technicalities, semantics. In the end, they mean nothing when it comes to true ownership, true devotion to a thing. His hands offered it to you first, lips pulled into a smile every time he saw it hanging low on your thighs. Mutually, it was decided that you would keep it, appropriating it to meet your needs: a sweater, a pillow, a comfort blanket, a cloth for your tears of frustration. It became him, amorphous and black and, therefore, able to be whatever you decided it could be.

And now, when you needed it, him, most, it was not here.

It’s not that your birthday is bad - far from it, it’s just that, without Chanyeol to turn every moment into something exciting, the moments in your day simply become pleasant somethings. Generic, pleasing things that fade without truly leaving a mark or imprint upon your soul.

Hugs from your family, cards from friends, the notion that tonight you will be taken to dinner and allowed to order all your favourites, these feel warm and sweet, like honey, delicate and wonderful. But, without Chanyeol’s touch or gregarious laugh, they fade almost instantly into your long term memory.

Without Chanyeol, you imagine a future version of yourself will look back on this with a furrowed brow and your tongue tucked behind your teeth, concentrating almost too hard to bring the memory back to life. In the end, all you will be left with is a summation of happiness, nice thoughts and dull colours. The notion that, I cannot remember anything terrible, so therefore everything was fine.

In the morning, you’d woken to a series of texts each more enthusiastic than the last.

Yeollie[4:12 AM]: ITS YOUR BRITHDAY Yeollie[4:13 AM] - Message sent with Confetti: HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Yeollie[4:13 AM]: HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY BIRTHDAY Yeollie[4:15 AM]: i missed midnight Yeollie[4:15 AM]: im the worst boyfriend Yeollie[4:16 AM]: forgive me? Yeollie[4:17 AM]: i want you to wake up knowing i love you Yeollie[4:18 AM]: youre annoying but youre still perfect Yeollie[4:18 AM]: reading week was only last month but i already miss you Yeollie[4:19 AM]: i miss your knees and how they bump me in bed Yeollie[4:20 AM]: and how your showers take too long Yeollie[4:21 AM]: and how soft you are Yeollie[4:22 AM]: its your birthday and i love you Yeollie[4:23 AM]: ill call later today Yeollie[4:24 AM]: ill go back to sleep now Yeollie[4:25 AM]: MAYBE WE CAN MEET IN DREAMS!!!!!!

Waking to these felt like a paradox. At one moment, you wooned into your pillow, hands still stiff from sleep and unable to type a reply. Laughter spilled from your chest and into your pillow, eyes squeezed tightly shut as your smile started to border on painful. Every text was read in his voice, loud and demanding your full attention, rich and luxurious, and settling over your skin like feathers. Each word was chosen carefully for you, delivered with its full intent and said because they came naturally, because they were the only words he could fathom alongside you.

But hearing them in his voice meant accepting the cold understanding he was not there, imagination bringing forth the noise and the warmth of him against your skin. With your eyes closed, it was his voice in your ear as he spoke and his arm draped over your waist to hold you to his chest. You heard and felt these things with cruel tangibility while you basked the blackness of your mind, and opening them meant separating yourself from his adoring touch.

And so because your morning had started with him, because your birthday made little sense without him here to share it, you craved the fantasy of the hoodie, the easy way it made you believe he was near. Tearing through your room, it soon became apparent it was missing, neither in your closet nor in your laundry. And as you continued to search, you realized you hadn’t seen it in far too long.

With a final glance around your room, undesired clothing strewn across your bed and chair and floor, you sigh at the mess and pull out your phone, defeated.

Y/N[12:31 PM]: yeol wheres my hoodie? Y/N[12:31 PM]: :( :( :( Yeollie[12:36 PM]: which one? Y/N[12:37 PM]: the black one Yeollie[12:38 PM]: you have a lot of black ones tbf Y/N[12:39 PM]: you know which one i mean!!!! Yeollie[12:40 PM]: when was the last time you saw it Y/N[12:41 PM]: last time you were on break Yeollie[12:42 PM]: a month ago? Yeollie[12:42 PM]: how would i know where it is now?? Y/N[12:44 PM]: IDK! Y/N[12:45 PM]: maybe you took it Y/N[12:46 PM]: did you take it? Y/N[12:46 PM]: istg if you took it Yeollie[12:48 PM]: is it taking it if it was originally mine Y/N[12:48 PM]: chanyeol. Yeollie sent a Photo Y/N[12:49 PM]: CHANYEOL Yeollie[12:50 PM]: WHAT Y/N[12:51 PM]: T____________T Yeollie[12:52 PM]: it smelled like you! Y/N[12:52 PM]: THAT DOESNT MEANT YOU CAN TAKE IT Yeollie[12:52 PM]: ITS THE BEST PILLOW I OWN Y/N[12:53 PM]: YEAH BUT Y/N[12:53 PM]: LITERALLY Y/N[12:54 PM]: SAME Yeollie[12:55 PM]: it smells like your shampoo Yeollie[12:56 PM]: like youre with me just after a shower Y/N[12:57 PM]: ok but Y/N[12:57 PM]: now i have nothing to wear today Yeollie[12:58 PM]: you have…. Yeollie[12:58 PM]: clothes Y/N[12:59 PM]: omfg Y/N[12:59 PM]: im so mad Yeollie[1:01 PM]: don't be mad Yeollie[1:03 PM]: i love you so much Y/N[1:04 PM]: youre holding my soul hostage Yeollie[1:05 PM]: id rather hold your heart Y/N[1:05 PM]: FUCK RIGHT OFF LMAO Y/N[1:06 PM]: stop being cute Yeollie[1:07 PM]: no Yeollie[1:07 PM]: go outside Y/N[1:08 PM]: why Yeollie[1:09 PM]: just do it Y/N[1:09 PM]: what did you do

Excitement makes your fingers start to tremble; confusion molds your brow into something hard and quizzical. It takes a mighty effort, controlling your synapses and keeping your heartbeat steady. He couldn’t and he wouldn’t run through your mind a speed that takes a second to process their motions, body hesitant and apprehensive. Part of you feels as though you’ve swallowed your tongue, mouth suddenly dry and muscles turned to stone, wary of disappointment.

While it is not entirely out of the realm of possibility he would drive the many hours to see you, it’s also wholly like him to orchestrate something extravagant even when he is not here to experience it with you. And while you will be grateful for whatever lies in your driveway, the lack of his physical presence will hurt deep and down into the wetness of your blood. 

So you brace yourself, close your eyes and wait for the shallow inhales of your lungs to become deep and languid.

As if pressing you for action, your phone buzzes in your palm.

Yeollie[1:14 PM]: stop overthinking and go outside

A great tidal wave of emotion consumes you, tears welling in your eyes as you move through your house and out to your drive.

Of course he would. Of course he would.

He runs to you the moment you throw the door open, long limbs stumbling and struggling to carry his tall gait. Chanyeol is a large blur of white teeth and pink ears, hair tucked beneath a black snapback.

It happens quickly, the arms around your waist and the scent of him consuming you. Beneath your ear, his heart thunders, excited and fraught with emotion - much like yours. Around you he is firm, grip on you tight and breath cascading into your hair, warming you and soothing you, both acting as though the height difference does not exist.

‘Happy birthday,’ he murmurs as his fingers press into your back, steadying himself as much as you. ‘You really thought I’d miss this?’

The wetness on your cheeks is hot, tears gently seeping into your pores without your permission. This is not like you. You are not one for emotional displays, but the relief you feel reaches down to your toes. Bewildered, it takes you a moment to answer, mind caught in a fog of realizing that love and loving are two different things; that you love your family, but loving Chanyeol means days are only special because he is there to make them so.

‘How the hell would I have known?’ you laugh, pressing your nose into his sternum. Your skin recognizes the fabric and, on instinct, you cling to him a little tighter.

Chanyeol scoffs in mock offense. ‘Yee of little faith.’

‘You were here last month. It’s such a long drive.’ On instinct, you take a step back to pull away to peer up at him, wanting to search his face and find all the pieces of joy he keeps tucked into his cheek bones. But he holds you too him, unyielding and unwilling to let you depart from him so soon.

‘You’re more important than the gas,’ he reasons, softly.

‘The gas is expensive.’

‘And you aren’t,’ he teases quickly, and you can hear his smile. Against your best wishes, you smile with him.

‘Ass,’ you laugh. ‘When did you take that picture?’

He laughs, deep and rich, the sound vibrating down in your bones. ‘A few weeks ago. Waited for you to wonder where it went but you never asked.’

Comfortable silence settles between you, time slipping by in unmeasured moments. Chanyeol’s touch warms your skin, raises goosebumps of affect and only when he shivers slightly to realize the air has taken on a chill.

‘We should go inside,’ you sight.

Against the crown of your head, he nods.

‘I brought the hoodie home,’ he says, sounding content.

‘That’s okay,’ you whisper, raising onto your tiptoes to kiss his cheek. ‘You can keep it for now.’

At this, he pulls back to regard you with surprise.

‘For now,’ you smile, ‘I just want you.’

[sunrisesgirlsandadventures]

92 Truths

Tagged by @beth2299

LAST

Drink: Tea

Phone call: Beth 

Song you listened to: Solo Dance - Martin Jensen

Time you cried: few days ago

HAVE YOU EVER

Dated someone twice: Yeah

Been cheated on: Yeah

Kissed someone and regretted it: Yeah

Lost someone special: Yeah

Been depressed: Course

Been drunk and thrown up: Yeah

IN THE PAST YEAR HAVE YOU

Made a new friend: Yeahh

Fallen out of love: Nope, wasn't love 

Laughed until you cried: Yeahhh

Met someone who changed you: Yeahhhh ❤️

Found out who your true friends are: Always knew who :)

Found out someone was talking about you: Yeah

GENERAL

How many people on tumblr do you know in real life: About 15ish?

Do you have any pets: Nooo :(

Do you want to change your name: Nahh

What time did you wake up this morning: Around 11am

What were you doing last night: Doing uni work and watching the walking dead

Name something you cannot wait for: Feburary <3 - so much going onnnnn

Have you ever talked to a person named Tom: yep

Who’s getting on your nerves right now: No one really

Blood type: Havent a clue

Nickname: Evelyn

Relationship status: Taken

Zodiac: Taurus 

Pronouns: She/her

Favourite show: Gilmore girls, OITNB, TWD (currently) and Happy valley 

College: Started last september -BU 

Hair colour: Dark blonde

Do you have a crush on someone: Emma Watson always

What do you like about yourself: Always try to be kind no matter what

FIRSTS

Surgery: Never 

Piercing: None

Sport you joined: Football

Vacation: Egypt  

Pair of sneakers: Nike

RIGHT NOW

Eating: Beans on toast

Drinking: Tea

I’m about to: Start my uni work 

Listening to: Nothinggg

Want kids?: YES

Get married?: Yeppp

Career: Student

WHICH IS BETTER

Lips or eyes: Eyes

Hugs or kisses: Hmm I like both equally tbf, maybe more kisses 

Shorter or taller: Don't mindd

Romantic or spontaneous: Romantic

Sensitive or loud: Sensitive

Hooked up or relationship: Relationship

Troublemaker or hesitant: Hesitant

HAVE YOU EVER

Kissed a stranger: Yes

Drank hard liquor: Yes

Lost contact/glasses: Don’t have them

Sex on first date: Yeah

Broken someone’s heart: I think so

Been arrested: Nah

Turned someone down: Yeah

Fallen for a friend: Nah

DO YOU BELIEVE IN

Yourself: Getting there

Miracles: Sometimes

Love at first sight: Yesssss

Heaven: I hope?

Santa Claus: Who doesn't

I am tagging @dirtydopamine @abbi2810 @rhianne1997

[m-herra]

🖊+Helex and Elsinaire?

Omg i forgot about these

Edit: I stg tumblr doesn't post right.

Helex Duilenus

A guard from Cyrodiil training under Commander Maro to guard the Emperor Titus Mede II

Tries very hard to be a good imperial soldier and guard but maybe a bit too hard, he's soon sent to stay with Whiterun Guards Elsinaire and Lovionl Adus to learn how to actually be a likeable guard

Tbh he's pretty young so its a bit understandable why he's trying to be "by the book" but also he's a bit of a bitch about it

Has had multiple run ins with criminal factions and since this is his first time meeting them he has no fucking clue that they were criminals. Example: he's good friends with S'agh, a known Vampire Lord with ties to both Thieves Guild and Dark Brotherhood. It's known and quite obvious because no one tries to do anything but Helex is that dense

Smol

Used to crush on a Bosmer named Applewind but was informed that A) he's not interested and B) Old enough to be his great grandfather

He's also a bit of a ditz/gets lost in the clouds a lot, Commander Maro gave him a task to find a prisoner and he still hasn't realized that it was to get him out of Dragon Bridge

To give an idea of his age, he's about 18-19, no one's really sure which but he's an adult at least? Here's a sword go stab something you little disaster

Has no idea what gender he is but leans towards masculine for now

He legit thought Applewind was a girl (and that apparently happened often to the bosmer) and was left shut inside until he got his head together and realized it really didn't matter the gender he just has a type. (And that is anyone who could probably pick him up so that's... more than half of Skyrim)

Has a cream coloured horse named Mara, and another brown horse named Dibella. He adores both. (Old picture but eh)

Can and will die for a doggo, if his death would benefit them in anyway then it might happen

Doesn't have a lot of restraint yet but is working on via Inigo and his braincell (where Inigo got it is unclear, investigation is underway)

Would die for Kharjo bc Kharjo is a good pal.

Despite being shunned and punished for using Magic when he was younger, he has a talent for it.

May or may not be a dragonborn but not like the others. Instead of a Dragon Soul, he has Dragon Blood, and we can thank Sanguine's shenanigans and a Priest for that.

No seriously he's fucking tiny but not like, that tiny, he's more or less a twig so Skyrim Citizens could accidently snap him in half if they aren't careful be gentle with the baby

Elsinaire Adus

He's a vampire thanks to his Grandfather (who died shortly before the events of tes4) and thankfully didn't have to be diseased or deal with Moldy Bitch Balls (he still hates him for what he did to Lamae and his Grandfather he will not hesitate)

Somehow, and I stress the sheer luck of this, evaded being found out by: his superiors back in Cyrodiil, Several Vigilants of Stendarr, the fucking Dawnguard, at least two of the Dovahkiin (tbf, Milonee thought it was an elf thing and Daro'suna is just straight up a dumbass sometimes), and for a short period of time he somehow convinced a fellow Whiterun guard that he wasn't, while he was caught feeding. He's either using vampire powers unknowingly or he's that convincing (or everyone failed several spot checks but his brother helped too)

Joined the Volkihar Vampires to see if he could control his Vampirism but later found out that not only did he have to deal with M*lag B*l, he was lied to and later hypnotised by Harkon to turn on his family and friends. Thankfully S'agh, Lovionl, and Daro'suna literally knocked sense into him (via Lovionl and his love of Warhammers and Vibe Checks)

He's taller than most but is small for an altmer, although this is a family thing, as his Grandmother is actually shorter than him and always has been. It should be noted that there has been no other races involved in his lineage that would be able to affect his height.

Dating a Companion named Metsine Wild-Blade and by the nine he's in love. They get along well but needed some outside assistance (read: counseling) after the Volkihar thing. She can also carry him and the Werewolf brothers so he's very much happy that she can handle herself should something bad happens (also werewolf cuddles are best cuddles you cam fight me on this)

Is in a poly with Metsine (Werewolf GF), Joshabhi (Magic Werecat BF), Mikaer (Musical Himbo BF), and Caysion (Argonian GF) and they get along swell.

Is the sole brunette in a family of Platinum Blondes (his brother used to be brunette but it lightened ever since Cyrodiil)

Got chewed out (along with his brother) by his mom and dad for entering an Oblivion Gate during that crisis, they also were praised because they managed to not only locate the hok (or at least local anime boy Farin Phirois) but save his life and provide some damn good backup while they climbed the tower. It was still idiotic and they deserved the scolding because they were told not to by multiple people but also was told by Farin himself to skedaddle before he realized the brothers were stubborn and lethally stupid but also dangerously brave.

Was trained by his father on combat while his mother taught magic

Hates the Thalmor with a passion and has stolen their clothes before from corpese. Admittedly, it comes in handy when they have to fool them because Thalmor share a braincell and half the time it's stolen by Ji'athra for shits and giggles

He prefers his elven armor over normal guard armor, and wears the thalmor robes underneath for the benefits and quick switch for trickery. Also because he travels a lot and seeing a guard in uniform will draw trouble.

Uses a Sword and Shield gifted to him by his Father but also cannot use a bow to save his life, thankfully, his teammates usually can or have it covered otherwise

Befriended a pair of Nord brothers in Solitude, but when Elsinaire and Lovionl Adus and Hildggr and Sorpr Arrow-Sword get together chaos can and will ensue. That's usually what happens when you pair the sons of a Daedric Prince of Madness (their mother) and two Sheogorath worshippers. Sheo would be proud.

Is training Helex on how to fucking chill and maybe learn to not be so tense.

Was assisted by a young Ji'athra on the way to Windhelm after he found the brothers on the run from Thalmor Agents, a very determined Vigilant of Stendarr who isn't an idiot, and a Werewolf. And this is after they found out their house was on fire. Big Oof

Has been hit by Lovionl's Warhammer many times and somehow has yet to show any ill effects

Carries a few bottles of blood (courtesy of fellow vamps Serana and S'agh) so he doesnt have to feed on people.

Cannot be cured of his Vampirism due to the nature of it. It should also be noted that Lovionl isn't affected by this (but he's about as pale) but then again, he has a whole nother set of issues that we don't have time to unpack.

Outside of Vampirism, he's pale as fuck and even if he wasnt a vampire the sun would be his worse enemy.

According to an obviously lying Lovionl, he's allergic to clouds and cloud magic. (How this managed to work is incredible)

He is actually allergic to fish, which is disappointing because it smells delicious but he doesnt want to be lethally stupid and eat it.

After a set of events involving badass parents, a lost dunmer lady (aka Auntie Gabelie), and several Daedric Princes of Madness and their Artifacts, he now has custody of the main villain of that mess who he intends to raise right and so they don't try to kidnap people from their parents because of what happened during the Oblivion crisis (long story short his mom and some other elf ladies found the khajiit child, cared for them, and were forced to watch as Mehrunes Dagon outright stole the kid, they didn't understand why they didnt save them so they were angry. They didn't age in Oblivion and they're still kitten aged.)

Wants a dog but tbh Metsine and Joshabhi leave enough hair from shedding so maybe not. (Also, not a lot of dogs are available rn)

"Supports" the Empire because the alternative is Windhelm's Polite Citizens And Welcoming Aura. Given the chance, he would fucking deck Tullius and doesn't even need to be prompted to throw down with Mr. Stormcloak and Galmar. None at all. It's on sight really.

[emilyjunk]

Tagged by @detectivedimple

The last 1. drink: coffee 2. phone call: my gf 3. text message: “thanks” - also my gf 4. song you listened to: Drive by Incubus 5. time you cried: hm yesterday i guess. it’s been a week

Have you ever 6. dated someone twice: yes 7. kissed someone and regretted it: regret is a strong word.   8. been cheated on: not that i know of 9. lost someone special: i guess  10. been depressed: only like once? when i was 12 but it just never stopped so 11. gotten drunk and thrown up: i dont think about those times 3 favorite colors 12. purple 13. yellow 14. a dark but soft blue In the last year have you: 15. made new friends: yeah  16. fallen out of love: no but i fell in 17. laughed until you cried: mhmm 18. found out someone was talking about you: yes but not in a mean way? 19. met someone who changed you: you have no idea 20. found out who your friends are: idk what this means honestly but i found out who my friends arent 21. kissed someone on your Facebook list: mhmm

General: 22. how many of your Facebook friends do you know in real life: almost all of them but tbf im not friends with any strangers who i dont know at all 23. do you have any pets: i have a cat his name is cat 24. do you want to change your name: i did when i was younger but never knew what i would change it to. now i dont want to even though idt my name fits me much 25. what did you do for your last birthday: er went to pho with my family it was lowkey but on my actual bday i didnt do anything 26. what time did you wake up: originally at 5:45 but then i fed my cat and went back to sleep til 11:45 lol 27. what were you doing at midnight last night: going to sleep 28. name something you can’t wait for: seeing my gf but idk when. also when i get a job... idk when that is either. 31. what are you listening to right now: some ugly ass birds chirp out my window 32. have you ever talked to a person named tom: yes 33. something that is getting on your nerves: that im not getting any interviews for jobs i apply for even when im overqualified by like 10000 qualification points, racism, and people on this website 34. most visited website: this hellsite  35. hair colour: people are always telling me im blonde but i think im brunette and truly they are blind but when i when was little i was dirty blonde  lol 36. long or short hair: my hair is medium long

39. piercings: both lobes, traegus (sp?), cartilage 40. blood type: red unless it’s in my body then it’s blue 41. nicknames: Ang, Angie i guess, junkle, my brother calls me aang lol 42. relationship status: spoken for 43. zodiac: gemini and proud. 44. pronouns: she/her 45. favourite tv show: orphan black but it’s ending today so im sad. i also am currently revisiting my soft spot for the hell that is glee. and i love poi, even sometimes more than orphan black because it really did me right the entire time and i appreciate that. steven universe is on that list too. llisten i have a lot of favorite shows i cant do this. 46. tattoos: uh i have 3. a sun on my ankle, a moon behind my ear, and a bee on my wrist. i want more but im poor and also dk where i’d put them cuz im self-conscious 47. right or left handed: right 48. surgery: just on my wisdom teeth lol 49. piercing: didn’t we just do this one? 50. sport: haha when i was younger i played lotssss of sports but now im lazy and fat. i gave my entire childhood and adolescence to competitive softball though so i suppose i will always have a soft spot for it. i also did baseball, basketball, soccer, hockey, and one year i did both track and flag football but then i quit cuz i hated them. actually i liked flag football but they never passed to me because boys (especially 13 year olds) are sexist meanies. in college i did ultimate frisbee, volleyball, football, broomball, and dodgeball which i LOVED.

51. vacation: anywhere with mountains or volcanoes. also italy. but also im a fan of staycation. 52. pair of trainers: you mean the only shoes i wear? they’re new balance More general: 53. eating: nothing, but i had eggos earlier and will likely have leftover pizza later. it’s a swell life.  54. drinking: coffee. 55. i’m about to: nothin. 56. waiting for: getitn a job :( 57. want: to be with my gf and also have a job 58. get married: uh maybe 59. career: :/ Which is better: 60. hugs or kisses: hm hugs but kisses too 61. lips or eyes: both but maybe smiles 62. shorter or taller: idc but my gf is shorter so maybe shorter is the right answer here

63. older or younger: idc but not too much difference either way 64. nice arms or nice stomach: arms but they’re all nice 65. hook up or relationship: relationship idk a hookup  66. troublemaker or hesitant: depends Have you ever: 67. kissed a stranger: no 68. drank hard liquor: ya

69. lost glasses/contact lenses: never lost but did break them once :( 70. turned someone down: yes 71. sex on the first date: er it’s complicated like sort of but also not 72. broken someone’s heart: yeah :( 73. had your heart broken: oh yeah  74. been arrested: not yet 75. cried when someone died: no 76. fallen for a friend: yes Do you believe in: 77. yourself: about some things 78. miracles: not sure 79. love at first sight: i used to not but now i kind of do  80. santa claus: no lol 81. kiss on the first date: sure 82. angels: not sure but im open to the possibility of the existence of all things Other: 83. current best friend’s name: hm rachel, renee, emily, jordan 84. eye colour: blue 85. favourite movie: school of rock, a league of their own, miracle, star wars, the pitch perfect movies, boyhood

tagging: @amanaryouserious @aca-trash @crazypitches @haughtwav if u are bored and feel like it i guess

[nerdhorde]

🌻 questions tag 🌻

I was tagged by the lovely @fsstudies to answer all of these questions. Thank you very much! I shall attempt to make myself look interesting, haha. 

I tag @affinityscience @hayley-studies @my-little-studyblr @georgestudies @raven-studies. I don’t talk to very many people on here so you have been chosen at random (mostly). If you don’t wanna do it, then ofc that’s chill. I also tag anyone who sees this n kind of fancies doing it. Go wild, kiddo. 

LAST:

1. Drink: water, and before that, tea. 

2. Phone call: probably my best friend

3. Text message: well, the last time I messaged someone was on facebook (my friend from uni), but the last time I properly texted someone it was probably my best friend, again.

4. Song you listened to: la devotee - p!atd

5. Time you cried: watching a film. I can’t for the life of me remember what it was. I cry a lot, tbf. 

HAVE YOU:

6. Dated someone twice: no 

7. Kissed someone and regretted it: I don’t think I regret any of them, no. Well, I’ve kissed someone and regretted it months later if that counts. 

8. Been cheated on: nope

9. Lost someone special: yes

10. Been depressed: yes, I suppose so. 

11. Gotten drunk and thrown up: yes. All of the time. My stomach is very bad at handling alcohol, so tactical chunders are usually the way to go. I’ve never been absolutely plastered though, and vomiting not by choice; I’ve usually always chosen when I’m going to throw up (usually to make myself feel better/avoid a hangover). 

LIST 3 FAVORITE COLORS:

12. Black

13. Blue

14. Grey

IN THE LAST YEAR HAVE YOU:

15. Made new friends: yes, I started university last September so I made a fair few. 

16. Fallen out of love: not in the romantic sense, no. 

17. Laughed until you cried: yes, a week ago, actually. 

18. Found out someone was talking about you: oh lord, yes, haha. It’s been the cause of all my problems, this past month or so. 

19. Met someone who changed you: no.

20. Found out who your friends are: most bloody definitely!

21. Kissed someone on your Facebook list: yes, I think I did. I regret it now, haha. 

GENERAL:

22. How many of your Facebook friends do you know in real life: The vast majority of them I’d say. Most of them are people I went to school with, and if I didn’t go to school with them, they’re people I’ve met drunk on a night out. There’s only a handful on there who I’ve not met. 

23. Do you have any pets: yes, we have a black labrador, called Breeze. 

24. Do you want to change your name: I’ve never really been fond of my name, it was very popular the year I was born so I always find a lot of people my age called Sophie. If I were to change my name I’d change my last name. I’d make up something completely new so I wasn’t associated with either side of my family. 

25. What did you do for your last birthday: I went to see Morrissey live in Manchester with my best friend, that was a brilliant weekend, one of the best experiences of my life. And with my family I think we went out for a meal? It was so long ago now I can’t even remember properly, haha. 

26. What time did you wake up: today it was 6am, because I’ve got to travel 180 miles North to move some of my stuff in to my new uni house. Usually I’m very bad at getting out of bed before midday, but if I’ve got stuff to do I can wake up any time.

27. What were you doing at midnight last night: Probably watching old Whose Line Is It Anyway  episodes. The UK ones, of course. 

28. Name something you can’t wait for: going back to university in September, though I’m going to miss my best friend desperately. 

29. When was the last time you saw your mom: I saw her 8 hours ago, I think? Just before she went to bed. 

30. What is the one thing you wish you could change in your life: my anxiety (lol, #deep). Deep down I know I’m supposed to be a very extroverted person, but it prevents me from being that. 

31. What are you listening to right now: other than the noisy sodding birds outside my window? Nothing, lmao. 

32. Have you ever talked to a person named Tom: yes? I knew two guys called Tom in middle school. 

33. Something that is getting on your nerves: probably one of my ex-friends (that sounds dramatic af). She’s been very irritating recently and I wish she’d just stop being such a child and leave me the hell alone. 

34. Most visited websites: twitter, facebook, tumblr, youtube. The usual suspects, haha. 

35. Mole/s: yes. Lots. According to my mum they’re a sign of strength. That might well be bollocks, but who knows. 

36. Mark/s: I’ve got a scar on my right eyebrow from when I ran into the corner of a wooden table as a child. I used to get called “Sophie Potter”, Lords knows why cos it ain’t bloody lightning shaped. 

37. Childhood dream: when I was 5, probably just owning a tractor would be enough for me (a Ford one, because they’re blue); when I got a bit older I wanted to be an author, or an illustrator, or an author who illustrated her own books. 

38. Hair color: brown

39. Long or short hair: long. I only had it cut for the first time in 2 years a few months ago. It was ridiculously long then. 

40. Do you have a crush on someone: no, not a crush. That’s the wrong word.

41. What do you like about yourself: I actually quite like my appearance nowadays. I’m very proud of my intelligence, my knowledge of useless facts, my sarcasm, how funny I can be, and my art.

42. Piercings: ear lobes and my nose. I’d love to get more done. 

43. Blood type: I have absolutely no idea, not even my own mother knows. 

44. Nickname: I don’t have one. Some people have attempted to call me “Soph” in the past and I’ve quickly shot them down, only my dad gets to call me that and even then I don’t like it, haha. Occasionally I’ve been called by my last name, and some jokes have been made out of my last name but nothing’s ever really stuck. 

45. Relationship status: single… as a pringle..?

46. Zodiac: I don’t know much about this. I know I’m a Leo… 

47. Pronouns: she/her

48. Favorite TV show: Doctor Who, TLOG, anything Reece Shearsmith & Steve Pemberton write, Green Wing (recently), House, Lie To Me… There’s loads more but I can’t list them all, I’d be here all day. 

49. Tattoos: I have a tattoo of some planets and stars over a mountain on my inside left wrist. I got it about a year ago. I want lots more!

50. Right or left hand: Right. Though weirdly I started out life left-handed and then switched of my own accord when I was about 5. Unfortunately that doesn’t make me ambidextrous though, dammit. 

51. Surgery: twice. Had my tonsils removed as a kid, and then I used to be tongue-tied so I had to have that sorted a few years after. 

52. Hair dyed in different colour: not yet. I’m planning on it soon though, my hair’s a little drab at the moment. 

53. Sport: I used to love football (soccer) as a kid and I was fairly good at it, mostly because I was vicious, and at school I was on various sports teams but nowadays I rarely do any. 

54. blackpink in your area???? I’ve no idea what this means, so I’m gonna skim past it. 

55. Vacation: as a family we’ve been to Greece together (Kos, specifically) and it was wonderful, and we’ve been caravanning on the coast a few times. We haven’t been on holiday in years, but we’re all going to Jersey next month, unfortunately for some not good reasons. 

56. Pair of trainers: two pairs of grey converse, one very new, one very tatty. And a pair of grey generic trainers for the gym (I like grey, apparently)

MORE GENERAL

57. Eating: mashed potato, gravy, pie, cheesy chips, my mum’s roast dinners, my grandma’s baking. 

58. Drinking: tea, always. I bloody love tea, not that I’m upholding a national stereotype there, but oh well. Wine is lovely, but vodka is my absolute favourite when it comes to alcohol. Or gin, though I can’t handle it very well. Tequila shots, yes, jaeger bombs, always. 

59. I’m about to: get dressed and go to my grandma’s for an hour before we drive up North to my new house

60. (there is no 60, this is odd)

61. Waiting for: my exam to be over (it’s on Tuesday, send help). 

62. Want: to be at the pub with my friends, and a night out at Welly (the best club ever, pop punk and indie trash on a loop).

63. Get married: I doubt it. I’m not interested in marriage really. 

64. Career: my dream career would be artist. Quite possibly a portrait artist. But I know that’s not exactly a safe bet, so I’ll save that until I’m financially stable. I’m doing a chemistry degree at the moment, so I suppose I’ll get a job using that. In research, maybe. 

65. Hugs or kisses: depends on the person. Hugs from everyone. Kisses are also wonderful too, though. 

66. Lips or eyes: eyes. 

67. Shorter or taller: neither. I’m tall compared to most of my friends, but not too tall that I can’t get away with wearing heels, so I’ll stick to where I’m at, cheers. 

68. Older or younger: younger I think. I miss being so carefree. 

(dammit why is there no 69 ffs)

70. Nice arms or nice stomach: on me? Stomach probably. But both I think. My arms are odd, I’d like to edit them a little. 

71. Sensitive or loud: both. Loud, naturally, I think. Sensitive not entirely out of choice. 

72. Hook up or relationship: hook up. I think I have commitment issues, I couldn’t be in a relationship with someone. 

73. Troublemaker or hesitant: depends. Mostly troublemaker. If I’m hesitant it’s only usually for a few seconds before I go “fuck it” and do it anyway. 

HAVE YOU EVER:

74. Kissed a stranger: yes. Many a time. 

75. Drank hard liquor: yes. It’s lovely. 

76. Lost glasses/contact lenses:  nope, never, thank god. Let’s hope this continues. 

77. Turned someone down: yes, very gently. 

78. Sex on the first date:  I don’t think you could call it a date, but I’ve had sex with someone the first night I’ve met them? If that counts?

79. Broken someone’s heart: I don’t think so, no. Not that I’m aware of anyway.

80. Had your heart broken: no.

81. Been arrested: never. 

82. Cried when someone died: yes, of course. 

83. Fallen for a friend: no. Not really. I had a brief crush on a friend, but it didn’t last. 

DO YOU BELIEVE IN:

84. Yourself: sometimes yes, sometimes no. I can be very arrogant depending on my mood, so in those moments I do, yes. In the more anxious ones, definitely not. 

85. Miracles: no way

86. Love at first sight: no, I think it’s unrealistic. Lust at first sight, certainly, but not love. 

87. Santa Claus: hahah wait why is this even up for debate?? Duh. 

88. Kiss on the first date:  yeah, sure, why not, if I liked the person enough I certainly wouldn’t be averse to it. 

OTHER:

90. Current best friend name: Amy

91. Eye color: brown

91. Favorite movie: reservoir dogs, pulp fiction, anything tarantino, leon: the professional, so many of them

[becky1800]

92 truths shit that's a lot of truths😂

Tagged by @lernjaguar Rules: Once you have been tagged you are supposed to write 92 truths about yourself. at the end, choose 25 people to tag! THE LAST…
1.Drink: orange juice
2.Phone call: my friend Ella aka Chipmunk
3.Text message: Ella again😂
4.Song you listened to: stranger in the north by namewee feet leehome wang (it’s chinese😂)
5.Time you cried: ermmmmm I can’t remember tbf 
HAVE YOU EVER…
6.Dated someone twice: nope
7.Been cheated on: nope
8.Kissed someone and regretted it: nope
9.Lost someone special: yes close family friends 10.Been depressed: like I’ve never had depression…. but I’ve felt depressed🤔 11.Gotten drunk and thrown up: nope 
LIST 3 FAVORITE COLORS:
Blue Purple Green 
IN THE LAST YEAR HAVE YOU… 
15.Made new friends: Yesssss so many
16.Fallen out of love: yup
17.Laughed until you cried: yup a few times😂
18.Found out someone was talking about you: as in like talking shit about me…. all the time😂
19.Met someone who changed you: Yas but in a good way
20.Found out who your true friends are: yup
21.Kissed someone on your Facebook list: nope 
GENERAL… 
22.How many of your Facebook friends do you know in real life: all I don’t use Facebook tho
23.Do you have any pets: I have a goldfish I’m counting that😂🐟
24.Do you want to change your name: nope I want to change one of my nicknames tho I hate it😂
25.What did you do for your last birthday: went out for a meal😂
26.What time did you wake up: 8:30am😒
27.What were you doing at midnight last night: talking to peeps
28.Name something you cannot wait for: NY this October
29.When was the last time you saw your mother: idk I don’t check timings I’m away from my mother😂but not that long 
30.What is one thing you wish you could change about your life: ermmm…. I don’t think there’s anything 
31.What are you listening to right now: nowt
32.Have you ever talked to a person named Tom: yup (?) why did you need to know this about me I’ll never know😂
33.Something that is getting on your nerves: in general 2 faced bitches
34.Most visited website: whattsap then tumblr 
35.Elementary: yup (idk American school system but I think so😂)
36. High School: ermmm welllll I’ve finished year 11 just done my GCSEs and I think high school finishes when your 18(???) so nope
37.College/university: still got that to come 
38.Hair color: Brown
39.Long or short hair: Long 
40.Do you have a crush on someone: i don’t know🤔
41.What do you like about yourself: can I say nothing😂ermmm Ima say eyes cause that’s what everyone else says😂
42.Piercings: just ears but I want moreee
43.Blood type: idfk
44.Nickname: Becky, biscuit, beckles cakes, and the one I hate😂
45.Relationship status: single af😂
46.Zodiac sign: Gemini
47.Pronouns: she/her
48.Favorite tv show: I don’t get time for this😭ermmm what I’ve watched of OITNB I guess and super girl (I need to watch the second season tho🤦🏻‍♀️)
49.Tattoos: none but I want some when I’m older
50.Right or left hand: right hand 
FIRST…
51.Surgery: heart operation 
52.Piercing: my ears
54.Sport: Dancing
55.Vacation: France
57.Eating: nothing
58.Drinking: nothing
59.I’m about to: ermmm idk watch something😂
60.Listening to: the tv In the living room😂
61.Waiting for: ermmm nothing much tbf
62.Want: cuddles😂😂😂yup pathetic
63.Get married: one day yasss
64.Career: I love history so something to do with that I want to be a museum curator 
WHICH IS BETTER… 
65.Hugs or kisses: hugs😍
66.Lips or eyes: eyes
67.Shorter or taller: welllllllllll……. i don’t particularly have a opinion I don’t care😂maybe taller cause I’m not that tall
68.Older or younger: older🤔? Or same age but that ain’t a option😂
70.Nice arms or nice stomach: stomach😍
71.Sensitive or loud: ermmm neither erm I can probably cope with sensitive easier tho😂
72.Hook up or relationship: relationship 
73.Troublemaker or hesitant: either 
HAVE YOU EVER… 
74.Kissed a stranger?: nope
75.Drank hard liquor?: nope
76.Lost glasses contact/lenses?: yup
77.Turned someone down?: yup
78.Sex on first date?: nope
79.Broken someone’s heart?: nope🤔 
80.Had your heart broken?: yup
81.Been arrested?: nope
82.Cried when someone died?: yupp
83.Fallen for a friend?: yup 
DO YOU BELIEVE IN… 
84.Yourself?: eh sometimes
85.Miracles?: ehhhhh not really but I’m not crossing it out
86.Love at first sight?: sometimes
87.Santa Claus?: no
88.Kiss on the first date?: maybe idk
89.Angels?: no 
OTHER…
90.Current best friend’s name: Too many I cant list them all but where I live probably my friend Ella or my friend Lenny (Eleanor)
91.Eye color: my eye colour? It’s like green/ grey/ blue people call them all different colours😂
92.Favorite movie: it changes buttttt I would say Annabelle

Okayyy ermmmmm @kaseykitty546, @singasong17, @just-a-camren-shipper, @camrenshipperss, @btshoeforever and yes Ik that's not 25 I have a shit memory but anyone I know you are tagged😂

[adamlynnch]

rules: once you have been tagged you are supposed to write 92 truths about yourself. at the end, choose however many people you want to tag!

tagged by @valines

tagging @looonyluna, @cigarettesmokeandexyracquets, @wesawbears, @fjrebolt, and @abloodneed

LAST… [1] drink: orange juice [2] phone call: My dad [3] text message: trying to tell my treasured friend to stop giving me compliments i’m unworthy of:

Friend: Death and love and death

Me: That sentence if gold

Friend: So are you

Me: .... STOP

[4] song you listened to: Immortals by Fall Out Boy [5] time you cried: I think it was last Wednesday bc my dad was pressuring me about college

HAVE YOU EVER…

[6] dated someone twice: Yes [7] been cheated on: Yep [8] kissed someone and regretted it: Yes [9] lost someone special: Yes [10] been depressed: Hah, you’re funny. [11] gotten drunk and thrown up: I don’t drink a lot

LIST 3 FAVOURITE COLOURS: [12] Onyx [13] Dark purple [14] Pastel blue

IN THE LAST YEAR HAVE YOU… [15] made new friends: For sure! [16] fallen out of love: Nope [17] laughed until you cried: So many times [18] found out someone was talking about you: Yep [19] met someone who changed you: Everyone you meet influences you. [20] found out who your true friends are: D E F I N A T L Y

[21] kissed someone on your facebook list: lol facebook

GENERAL…

[22] how many of your tumblr friends do you know in real life: none (I don’t have a lot of tumblr friends tbf) [23] do you have any pets: Blue and Red (both demonic cats) [24] do you want to change your name: Nah [25] what did you do for your last birthday: Sat in my bed and cried.  [26] what time did you wake up: 11ish am [27] what were you doing at midnight last night: Scrolling through tumblr [28] name something you cannot wait for: for spring break to be over [29] when was the last time you saw your mother: a year and some change ago

[30] what is one thing you wish you could change about your life: Everything (thats a bit dramatic but many many things) [31] what are you listening to right now: Fall Out Boy [32] have you ever talked to a person named tom: No, odly [33] something that is getting on your nerves: People in general/at my school [35] elementary: I went to one elementary school wheres [34] and [36]?? [37] college: Not there yet [38] hair colour: dark dark brown with blonde orange tips [39] long or short hair: Short [40] do you have a crush on someone: Yep [41] what do you like about yourself?: My thighs I suppose?? and how I can make people smile [42] piercings: None [43] blood type: Red [44] nickname: Dawny (to close friends and family) [45] relationship status: Single and forever to remain that way [46] zodiac sign: Libra [47] pronouns: she/her [48] fav tv show: The Flash, Supergirl, Shadowhunters, and Riverdale (I don’t really watch tv) [49] tattoos: Many planned for [50] right or left handed: right handed

FIRST… [51] surgery: N/A [52] piercing: N/A [53] best friend: I had three immedeatly, it only happened a few months ago, and these boys are amazing and I love them. [54] sport: Swimming [55] vacation: N/A [56] pair of trainers: Nikes

RIGHT NOW… [57] eating: Nothing [58] drinking: Nothing [59] i’m about to: Post this lol [60] listening to: See [31] [61] waiting for: My father to get home  [62] want: To be able to sleep [63] get married: Never [64] career: ???? lol

WHICH IS BETTER… [65] hugs or kisses: Depends. [66] lips or eyes: eyes [67] shorter or taller: taller [68] older or younger: Older. [69] romantic or spontaneous: spontaneous [70] nice arms or nice stomach: Arms. [71] sensitive or loud: loud [72] hook up or relationship: relationship [73] troublemaker or hesitant: neither or both, depends

HAVE YOU EVER… [74] kissed a stranger? Nope [75] drank hard liquor? Nope [76] lost glasses/contact lenses? HAHAHA [77] turned someone down: HAHAHAHA [78] sex on first date? No [79] broken someone’s heart? Maybe? [80] had your own heart broken? I wouldn’t put it like that [81] been arrested? No [82] cried when someone died? Yes [83] fallen for a friend: Yes

DO YOU BELIEVE IN… [84] yourself? No [85] miracles? Luck. [86] love at first sight? Yes [87] santa claus? No. [88] kiss on the first date? Sure. [89] angels? Yes(?)

OTHER… [90] current best friend’s name: Isaac, Nick, and Aden [91] eye colour: Brown [92] favourite movie: Aladdin, Captain America: Civil War, a few others that aren’t coming to mind

tagging: @looonyluna, @cigarettesmokeandexyracquets, @fjrebolt, @lionbots

[whitecanaryoflight]

Tagged by @happygoloony​!(Like, yesterday. I’m slow at getting back to these things sometimes haha)

last

1. drink - Iced Coffee

2. phone call -  I think it was my grandmother? When she called to let me know she was bringing my birthday money. Aaaand she offered to bring me anything. Apparently my care kit consists of Long John’s Silvers, Rockstar Energy drinks, and Reese’s.

3. text message - @vampirestakecareofourown :* she’s almost always my last text

4. song you listened to - ... listen I’m in the mood of getting ready for California, don’t blame me that the last one I listened to was Something About The Sunshine from Starstruck (quietly puts it on again)

5. time you cried - Idk, like, Thursday? Last night if tearing up counts (not from sadness though!)

ever

6. dated someone twice? - Yes. Multiple people. Cause I’m an idiot. (Although one of them I don’t regret in the slightest) 

7. kissed someone and regretted it - 2/3

8. been cheated on - I have my suspicions that I was; on multiple occasions.

9. lost someone special - Yes

10. been depressed - Have you seen some of my posts? Tbf I save my Super Dark ones for my Other Blog. (I say that like I only have one other blog. I have SO MANY. Guys I think I have a problem.)

11. gotten drunk and thrown up - Nope!

fave colours

12. Turquoise

13. Cherry Red

14. Teal

in the last year have you…

15. made new friends - Sort of! I’m bad at communication!

16. fallen out of love - eehh. I’m teetering on the edge still. But almost, yes. I can’t wait for when I do.

17. laughed until you cried - Yes!!

18. found out someone was talking about you - Not in a bad manner

19. met someone who changed you - I’m constantly changing, friendo

20. found out who your friends are - I already have my tiny knit group. All that happened was it got smaller due to Complications. (okay so yes)

21. kissed someone on your facebook friends list -  unfortunately

general

22. how many of your facebook friends do you know irl - Pretty much all of them

23. do you have any pets - AHA. 4 dogs(one we’re watching for our Uncle tho), an unreasonable amount of cats, 4 lizards, and some saltwater fish and piranhas.

24. do you want to change your name - I bounce back and forth between wanting to and not wanting to. There’s a couple of names I’d prefer.

25. what did you do for your last birthday - Ah yes, the birthday of Superbowl Sunday at Hooters. When I do not even like football. Luckily this year my birthday is the day after.

26. what time did you wake up today - 7:15ish AM

27. what were you doing at midnight last night - Playing puzzle games and listening to music

28. what is something you cant wait for - Conventions! California!

30. what are you listening to right now - ..... don’t judge me.

31. have you ever talked to a person named tom - I don’t even remember most of this previous week, friendo.

32. something that’s getting on your nerves - Life

33. most visited website - Probably a tie between Tumblr and Youtube

34. hair colour - Natural? Dark blonde. Now? Erm... A Mess of dark blonde roots, purple fading into a lighter/pastel purple, that goes into a mediumish blonde? (This is why we do strand tests, guys gals and nonbinary pals!) (Have I learned my lesson? Nope!)

35. long or short hair - Mediumish Long? Past my shoulder blades. 

36. do you have a crush on someone - Unfortunately. (and if celebrities count, then I ALWAYS have a crush on someone. Always.)

37. what do you like about yourself - My hair and fashion sense

38. want any piercings? - YES!! I WANT MY INDUSTRIAL DAMN IT. I was SUPPOSED to get it sometime last year around this time of year!

39. blood type - I hear O tastes the best. No, I don’t know what mine is, and no, you can’t have it.

40. nicknames - Shy, Lucy, Lulu, Lucy Liu (thanks ma), Hayley, Izzy, Canary.

41. relationship status - Single and wanting to Not Be Alone Anymore

42. zodiac - Aquarius

43. pronouns - she / her

44. fave tv shows - GOTHAM, WWE, Legends of Tomorrow, The Flash, Supergirl, Arrow, Black Lightning, (duh), Prison Break, Wentworth Prison, Vis a Vis (Locked Up), OITNB... (yeah there’s a theme here, shut up), The End Of The F***ing World

45. tattoos - None, unfortunately.

46. right or left handed - Right!

47. ever had surgery - Nope

48. piercings - Just my earlobes

49. sport - no thanks. (Wrestling is the only sport I’ll ever care about.) (Okay and Hockey somewhat)

50. vacation - Yes pls. California. I miss you. I’m coming home, Museum of Death, just wait for me. (Ideally, I’d like to travel around the world)

51. trainers - what does this mean. personal trainer? shoes? no to both. converse and boots, bitches

more general

52. eating - .... Reese’s...

53. drinking - Iced Coffee

54. i’m about to watch - Myself putting on makeup

55. waiting for - Me to get off my ass and put on makeup

56. want - A life that I love. Someone that I love that loves all my asshole animals. 

57. get married - Yes pls.

58. career - Everyone who knows anything about me knows Wrestling is my #1 choice but unfortunately unless I get LASIK, I cannot be a safe worker in the ring. So Cosplaying or Acting or a Wildlife Sanctuary/really good Zoo

which is better

59. hugs or kisses - Hugs!

60. lips or eyes - Eyes!

61. shorter or taller - Taller, cause most people are taller than me anyways

62. older or younger - Older

63. nice arms or stomach - ? Arms I guess?

64. hookup or relationship - Relationship by far

65. troublemaker or hesitant - Depends on the situation.

have you ever

66. kissed a stranger - ..... what defines “Stranger”?

67. drank hard liquor - Rum counts as hard, right? Love the main alcohol I drink IS Rum. I’ve also tried whiskey.

68. lost glasses - Probably

69. turned someone down - I think so

70. sex on first date - Ew

71. broken someones heart - Probably

72. had your heart broken - So much

73. been arrested - No[t yet]

74. cried when someone died - Yes? I become an emotionless abyss and after a couple of weeks THEN I cry

75. fallen for a friend - Unfortunately. I’ve also fallen for someone whom I absolutely hated and that didn’t work out either.

do you believe in

76. yourself - I’m trying

77. miracles - Sometimes

78. love at first sight - Sometimes

79. santa clause - Nope

80. kiss on a first date - Depends on if you knew the person before

81. angels - Kind of

other

82. best friend’s name - Nikki <3

83. eye colour - Blue

84. fave movie - vague shrugging. Right now, probably Atomic Blonde or IT. (this is a lie, we all know House of 1000 Corpses trumps all)

85. fave actor - Wentworth Miller, Dominic Purcell, Caity Lotz, Nick Zano, Peter Stormare, listen I can list all day. People I frequently reblog.

tagging erm... @iamagrasshoppermouse, @aroredhoodie, @vampirestakecareofourown, and anyone who wants to do it? If anyone at all wants to do it.

[gyrlversion]

We Tried The Celebrity Spin Class That Americans Are Obsessed With

Hey, I’m Josie and I love spinning. I go twice a week most weeks. I love it so much that when I heard that SoulCycle, the cult American spin studio, was coming to the UK, I dragged my colleagues along for the ride. Literally.

From a spin snob, to a complete gym newbie, these are our thoughts…

Ben:

Spin classes completed: 0.

As someone who has never been to a gym class in their life, I was a little nervous and a bit skeptical about trying a spin class.

Sam:

Spin classes completed: 1 or 2.

I’ve done spinning a couple of times, and while it’s tiring it doesn’t kill you afterwards, which is ideal.

Hanifah:

Spin classes completed: 10+

I used to regularly attend the gym and spin classes, but I’ve recently taken a bit of a break.

Remee:

Spin classes completed: 30+

I’ve been to a fair amount of spin classes, so I know the general deal (still can’t get on the bloody bike though).

Josie:

Spin classes completed: 70+

I’m a spin snob — I know what I like when it comes to a spin class.

Hanifah: I’ve heard soooo much about SoulCycle. I’d heard that Beyoncé apparently goes, so it’s obviously supreme. I was really really excited to go and do a workout fit for Queen B! I didn’t expect it to be anything like the other spin classes I’ve been to before.

Sam: I try to attend the gym at least three times a week, but I don’t often do classes as I fear human contact and like to keep my head down when exercising. I think I’ve heard of SoulCycle being mentioned before, but before going I didn’t have any opinion on it. I’d heard it was boujie, but I was still going to show up to class in my holey trainers.

Remee: I know SoulCycle is the OG spin class, and although I’ve been to some spin classes in New York, I’d never gone to SC. I know it’s a big hit among celebrities, so I was intrigued to see if it was any more special that the others I’d been to.

Josie: I feel like anyone who has gone spinning before has heard of SoulCycle. I’d heard people utter its name as if it was the holy grail of static bicycle riding. So when I heard a studio was opening in the UK, I knew I had to try it out. I usually go to a Psycle studio as I handily have one down the road from my house and I’d heard they were basically the same thing, so I didn’t feel nervous, more intrigued about where I would see the differences and whether my loyalty to Psycle would be shaken…

Ben: Like I said, I was a bit nervous and skeptical at first, but after a few minutes I was really into it. The music got me pumped and the low-lit room really added to the atmosphere as well as not making me feel self conscious. But I’m not going to lie, the inspirational quotes and mindfulness just aren’t really my thing. If you’re into that stuff it’s cool but it’s just not for me. The playlist was great — our instructor, Josh, had a good mix of bangers and high tempo songs in there which really got me into the mood.

Hanifah: The class was great, but if I’m honest, there wasn’t too much that was uniquely SoulCycle. That doesn’t mean I didn’t love it though – I was a big fan of the candle shrine – it gave it a calming vibe. I really liked the instructor, he was motivational without being obnoxious. I appreciated the fact that he encouraged everyone to go at their own pace, because I know that these classes can get competitive at times. I loved his music – he started off with Beyoncé’s “Countdown,” and when that began I knew I’d gone to the right class.

Sam: I thought Josh was good at reminding us we didn’t need to keep up, which I needed to hear as I was worried that I wouldn’t be able to (which tbf was partly true). The room was insanely warm, and I’m NGL, it would have more pleasant in a cooler environment. I could do without all the motivational speeches, but I liked the fake candles. Music was great – a real mix of pop and indie remixes. I didn’t see any real difference between SC or doing a cycle sesh at my gym though.

Remee: The class was really good! High energy, and the instructor was super friendly and motivating. I liked the candles too, I usually go to Psycle, and they could do with some candlelight! Music was a great mix, he definitely had something for everyone. I would say though, if you’ve never done spin before, it might be a bit hard to follow and there wasn’t any effort put in to get people on the right leg and on the right beat like spin classes normally do. Maybe this is because SoulCycle’s whole mantra is a “do it at your own pace” kind of thing, but come on, for 24 quid per class, you want to know you’re doing the workout right, right??

BuzzFeed

I whip my hair back and forth.

Josie: I love Psycle because I always come out feeling really positive and on a bit of a natural high. I’ve managed to narrow down the list of instructors to the ones that I like and I’ll always try to book classes with. I know that they will play the music I want and that I’ll come out feeling on top of the freaking world. SoulCycle gave me the same good vibes. The music was great with the soundtrack flitting between Ariana Grande, Beyoncé and Temper Trap, and the crowd was clearly feeling it. Josh was the right side of motivational without being overly cheesy. The seats of the bikes were also the comfiest spinning seats that I’ve sat on too which was a huge bonus. I did kind of miss the disco lights of Psycle, and while my colleagues all loved the candles schtick, I only found out after the class that they weren’t real flames so spent most of it imagining us all dying in a spin-related inferno which put a bit of a dampener on my mood.

Remee: This is probably the boujiest boutique gym I’ve ever been to. The space is pretty bright and clean and it definitely looks fancy. There was even facial oil on offer in the ladies changing rooms! And I never ever thought I could be impressed by a water machine, but oh my god, it was seven times filtered and it was DELICIOUS! WATER WAS DELICIOUS! The changing rooms however, were far too small. As someone who has been to spin before, I wasn’t nervous, but when loads of people started showing up the changing rooms got really hectic and started making me a bit anxious. Also, what’s the point of having three types of moisturiser if you can’t even get to it because there are 14 bare bums in the way? It was legitimately stressful being in there.

Ben: I really enjoyed the changing rooms, (I feel like the male ones must have been less busy). I literally used every product in there and they all smelt amazing. I left feeling refreshed and smelling great, which was a real feat considering how much I had been sweating during the class.

Hanifah: Going into the changing room, I noticed that it was very luxurious, but I didn’t really feel comfortable because it was so so packed! After the class I used all the products in the shower, and I felt the opulence. I would’ve loved to spend more time in there but I couldn’t get a seat, so I really just wanted to get out of there.

Sam: I was excited about all the stuff that you get given as part of signing up – towels, shoes, water. What can I say? I’m easy to please.

Josie: SoulCycle is premium. The white and yellow colour scheme feels super LA and sets you up for feeling like this is going to be a really positive experience. One negative about the whole thing was definitely the changing room situation. They were too small for the amount of people that were constantly milling in and out so while there are great facilities, you can barely reach any of them and feel like you’re taking up too much space most of the time. I would definitely recommend turning up in your gear so you don’t have to battle people before and after your class. Other than that the whole place is pretty swish. I mean, Le Labo shower gel?! Drunk Elephant moisturiser?! Dyson hairdryers?! How much money did they spend on this!

Ben: I’ve never sweated so much in my life but I feel strong AF! SoulCycle may have just converted me to spinning.

Sam: It was cute for a taste, but not for a swallow.

Remee: The class was energetic and fun, but the space is just far too small and crowded to enjoy the full experience. If it were bigger it would be great for a workout when you feel like you want to pamper yourself a bit too. You’re paying a premium to have a great workout BUT to have the best facilities, so if you don’t get to use them, it doesn’t feel worth the money.

Josie: I enjoyed the experience but I’m Psycle loyal for now.

Hanifah: Overall, I really liked it – I felt like I got a great workout and a mindful experience all rolled into one. I’d say it does live up to the hype – it’s pretty glam, I just wish it wasn’t so packed.

Services were provided by SoulCycle London to BuzzFeed free of charge, but we were under no obligation to be positive in our coverage. You can book a class at SoulCycle or find out more, here.

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