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lilliagradiewrites · 4 years

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wish you liked girls (kiara carrera)

Summary: You’ve been best friends with kiara for years, but lately you’ve noticed some changes in the way you feel towards her. When you hear the song she wrote about you, all is revealed.

WC: 4.5k

WARNINGS: homophobic, use of the f slur, cursing, nothing else really, just lots of angst and a lil fluff.

*this is based off of the song ‘wish you liked girls’ by Abbey Glover. I changed the lyrics around a little to fit the story better, but all credits to her nonetheless!!

A/N: happy new years my loves! this one shot is kind of my new years gift to all of you. I haven't been very active in the past few days, so I’m sorry about that. i tried to upload this on christmas, but tumblr was rude and didn’t let me, so here we are instead! wishing you all the greatest 2021, and I hope you all enjoy!

LET’S DO IT!!

~~~~~

You didn’t know exactly how you felt towards Kiara in the beginning. You feelings for her were indecipherable; more than friends… but also just friends?

The past few months had been a wild ride for you. Constantly, you were questioning your sexuality, and frankly everything you’d ever known.

It got harder as the days went on, and with every beautiful girl that showed up in your Instagram feed or your tiktok for you page.

And then, of course, there was Kiara.

Perfect, beautiful, unattainable Kiara.

She was your best friend, and you usually viewed your hangouts as a super comforting and safe space. Now, however, your hangouts were simply a cause for more stress.

Kiara was so… wonderful. After knowing her for many years, you could confidently say that the girl had no flaws.

Kie’s perfection made everything so much harder for you. Your feelings toward your friend were incredibly confusing.

Did you want to be her, or be with her?

The biggest issue was not your feelings for Kiara, but rather a completely separate problem.

Your boyfriend.

You were nearing a year with Hunter, the boy you found yourself lucky to call your own.

Hunter was an amazing guy, and everything a teenage girl could ask for in a boyfriend. He was considerate and sweet, and always knew the right thing to say to you. He never pressured you into intimacy, knowing that you weren’t comfortable or ready just yet.

You loved Hunter, you knew you did.

Yet, you found yourself feeling that same way towards Kiara.

This was the main issue causing the battle in your head. Was your love for Kiara just platonic? Or maybe you loved Hunter as a friend, Kiara was the one you wanted to be with?

None of those options felt right, but the last possible option made you feel confused and slightly guilty….

What if you wanted to be with them both?

All these thoughts rushed through your head as you brushed makeup on your face, preparing for a night with the girl who frequented your thoughts daily.

There was an open mic night at you and Kiara’s favorite indie cafe. Kie, who was unknowingly an amazing singer and songwriter, had played some music for you a while back, leading to a process of you encouraging her to grow as an artist.

For months, Kiara had been running song ideas by you. You could recall countless nights during which you and Kiara would sit on her bed, working together to finish up a song she’d been writing.

Kiara credits all her music to you completely, but you knew she was just being modest. The girl was undeniably talented.

That’s why, when you saw that Retro was having an open mic night, you’d insisted that your best friend go play one of her songs.

You had sat on her bed that night, the flyer you’d collected from the cafe sitting between the two of you.

You grabbed the notebook containing all of the lyrics you’d written together, and pored over the most recent piece.

The song was your best one yet. She’d been inspired by yet another fight between JJ and Rafe.

“What if I write something about the pogues and the kooks being so divided?” She’d suggested that same night. You could tell, judging by the look in her eyes, that a train of ideas was chugging in circles throughout her mind. “The whole thing is so ugly and gross… I just want to turn into something beautiful, you know?”

Without a second thought, you’d picked up a pencil and the song book you’d grown to be familiar with, and the two of you got down to work.

Two sleepless nights and countless cups of coffee later, the two of you had completed the piece. It was undoubtedly the best song you’d ever written. It captured the unnecessary feeling of hatred coming from the opposite groups of the island perfectly, adding a touch of soul. The moral of the song was simple: can we just get along?

Kiara had strung the words together beautifully, adding a gorgeous melody and some strums on her guitar. Once the two of you heard the lyrics had worked so hard on turned to music, you knew that there was something special about this piece.

That’s why you insisted so strongly that Kiara sing it at the open mic night.

“I don’t know, Y/N…” Kiara had twiddled her fingers, biting her lip in apprehension. “What if people hate my music? Or what if I fuck it up so bad I become a massive laughingstock. I don’t think I could handle it.”

You smiled, grabbing her hands to still them. “It’s a good thing you won’t have to worry about that, then, because you’re not gonna fuck it up.”

“You don’t know that for sure.” Kiara protested, breaking the gaze you’d been holding as you spoke.

“I do!” You grabbed Kiara’s chin, moving her face towards you so that her eyes met yours again. “You are fucking amazing, Kiara Carrera. Do not doubt yourself. You are so talented, Kie, I don’t think you even realize how incredible you are. I am going to that cafe tomorrow and signing you up for the open mic night whether you like or not.”

This was a threat, but not an honest one. You would never sign her up knowing she was uncomfortable. So, when you let go of your light grip on her chin, you listened intently for a murmur of approval.

After a moment, it finally came.

“Okay, I’ll do it.”

“Yes!” You exclaimed in celebration, throwing your arms around your friend. “I’m so excited, you’re gonna be amazing!

Now, a few days later, you’re sitting at your vanity, preparing for the night you’d be waiting for. Kie was extremely nervous, so you’d taken her out shopping earlier that day to calm her down. She’d bought a new outfit for the open mic night, which looked amazing on her. She promised you that she’d come pick you up so you could go to the performance together, and you’d happily agreed.

You didn’t expect to be at your house an hour early, though.

You weren’t even halfway through your makeup when you heard a knock at your door.

You’d rushed down the stairs, praying you’d get to the door first.

Your parents never liked Kie. They knew she liked girls and guys, and called her a “Hippie whore.”

Your homophobic parents: Yet another reason you couldn’t come to terms with the way you felt towards your best friend.

The odds seemed to be in your favor today, as you reached the door before your parents and swung it open to reveal a highly nervous Kiara.

“Hey!” You smiled. “What are you doing here so early?”

Kiara bit her lip in embarrassment and looked down to her feet.

“I-I got nervous and I got ready way too early. I know I’m not supposed to be here for another 45 minutes, but I’m too freaked out to be alone. Is it okay if I hang out with you while you finish getting ready?” She questions softly, almost embarrassed.

You smile, finding her nerves exceptionally adorable.

“Yes, of course you can. Come in, come in.”

You grab her arm, closing the door behind her and pulling her quickly up the stairs. The last thing you wanted was for Kiara to have to interact with your parents.

Once in your room, you close the door and head back to your vanity, Kiara flopping down on your bed.

As you sat down and continued applying your makeup, you spoke to your friend.

“So, how nervous and excited are you for tonight?”

Kiara smiled lightly, and bit her lip once again. “Very for both.” She confesses with a small chuckle.

“I know you can’t tell someone not to be nervous but I can tell you that you shouldn’t be. You’re incredible, Kie. I can’t wait for everyone to see how talented my best friend is.

You focus hard on your eyeliner, leaning in to your mirror to make sure you get a clean wing.

Once you're done on both sides, you lean back and admire your work. Perfecting your winged liner was something you’d been working on for a while, and it seems that your practice has helped. The wings are sharp and pretty much even. If you don’t look too closely, the wings are seemingly symmetrical. This is good enough for you, you decide, capping the liquid liner and setting it back in your makeup drawer.

Finally done with your makeup, you begin cleaning off your desk. You put your products back in your drawer, and the brushes in the holder you have for them on the corner of your desk.

Standing up, you look at Kie with a smile. “Now help me pick out an outfit so that I look hot supporting you from the audience.”

45 minutes later, the two of you are finally ready to leave. Kie is nervous as ever, but you offer comforting words to try and help calm her down as much as possible. You grab your favorite bag and throw the essentials in it. Your phone, a portable charger (just in case), and a few extra hair ties. Once you were done, you turned to Kie, who was playing with her fingers anxiously. “You ready?” You asked, encouragement laced in your voice. Kiara, still very obviously apprehensive, could do nothing but nod. Taking your bag in one hand and Kiara’s hand in the other, you head out of your room and towards the front door.

The two of you made your way down the stairs, moving quickly to leave so that you didn’t have to interact with either of your awful parents. When you got to the bottom, you rushed for the door, fumbling with the door handle. The house you lived in was old, and all of the metal pieces (such as the door knob) were rusted and hard to use. You did your best trying to twist it open, saying a silent prayer that one of your parents didn’t round the corner and see Kiara with you. She was nervous enough as it is; she didn’t need your parents making her night even worse.

Unfortunately for the both of you, your prayers were seemingly denied as your mother walked into the foyer, arms crossed over her chest.

You had hardly even noticed her presence until she said your name, anger apparent in her voice.

“Y/N. How many times do I have to tell you who you can and cannot bring into our home?”

You grimaced at the sound of her voice, turning slowly, knowing you’ll be met with inescapable doom. In the process of turning, you saw the look on Kie’s face. She looked anxious and heartbroken, not to mention severely guilty. After seeing your best friend’s expression, you knew you weren’t cowering down to your mother.

Your original plan had been to apologize profusely and beg her to let you go with Kie, possibly even lying about where you were headed.

But you knew you had nothing to apologize for, and neither did Kie.

“I don’t see why it matters, Mom.”

Surprise flashed over your mother’s face, shocked by your confidence. Standing up for yourself wasn’t your usual reaction to her scoldings, and she wasn’t prepared for the reply she was given.

“It matters because it’s my house, and because I’m your mother. I told you I did not want people like her over at this house. Now send the girl on her way and come sit down with me. I think we need to talk.”

You had to admit, you were nervous to make your next move. You knew what you were going to do, and it would result in getting your ass shredded when you come back home. But you didn’t care; you had to be there for Kie.

“I can’t right now. Me and Kiara have a place to be, so…” You turned and messed with the doorknob some more, finally getting it to work correctly. “I’ll talk to you when I get home tonight. It shouldn’t be terribly late. But, I might stay over at Kie’s, so, you think you could wait until tomorrow?”

Anger washed quickly over your mother’s face. She uncrossed her arms so that she could clench her fists at her sides, moving towards you menacingly. “Absolutely not, Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N. You will be staying here, and you will not be staying at her house. I won’t allow it.”

You smirked, a sudden confidence washing over you. “Well, that doesn’t sound very fun. Good thing I didn’t ask for your permission, huh?”

Kie looked shocked by your attitude, and your mother was getting angrier by the second.

“I’m going to need you to fix your attitude, young lady, or there will be severe consequences.”

“I don’t care. I don’t, and I’m not sorry about it. Kie is my best friend, whether you like it or not, and I’m spending the night with her.”

Your mother’s face was almost completely red. “Kie is a fag-”

“No. Don’t you dare finish that sentence. I will not allow you to talk to her that way. Why are you the way that you are?”

“Why are you hanging out with gay people? Do you like girls or something?”

“Why does it matter?” You’re fuming at this point. If she wasn’t your mother, you would’ve hit her by now.

“It matters because homosexuals are abominations. The Lord says so. I thought I’d taught you this by now, but clearly I didn’t press the word of God into you hard enough when you were younger.”

“No, Mom. Terrible people like you are an abomination. We’re leaving.”

And with that, you were gone, wrenching the door open and ushering Kie out of it, ignoring your mother’s shouts as you closed it behind you.

You rushed to Kie’s car, hopping in it as she pulled out of your driveway and sped through your neighborhood.

The two of you were completely silent for a moment. Both of you could barely process what had just happened. The more you thought about the situation, the more it upset you. Who was your mother to decide who you could and couldn’t hang out with? Especially when her reasons for you not hanging out with Kie were so disgusting.

What would your mother say if she knew the thoughts you’d been having?

After a little while, Kiara broke the silence. “Why is your mom like that?” Her voice cracked slightly as she spoke, and you could tell by the tone of her voice that she was fighting tears.

You sighed. Hearing Kiara so upset, especially on a day that was supposed to be fun, broke you. “I wish I knew, Kie. I’m so sorry.”

“I can’t believe she accused you of liking girls just because you hang out with me. She’s so disrespectful for no reason.”

You shook your head. “You say it like it’s a terrible thing she ‘accused’ me of. It’s not a bad thing. She just made it bad because she’s a bitch.”

Kiara nodded, turning her head to gaze out the window. A momentary silence fell over the two of you, but you couldn’t help but feel like something wasn’t right. You glanced over at Kie, whose brows were furrowed. She bit her lip in thought.

Is there something she wanted to say?

“Kie? Are you alright?”

The brunette didn’t say anything. You knew something was up, so you pressed further.

“What’s on your mind, love?”

Kiara shot out her reply quickly, like it was taking all of her courage to say it.

“You didn’t deny it.”

“Deny what?”

“Liking girls.”

You paused briefly, letting the girls words sink in for a second.

“No, I didn’t.”

Kiara turned to you, a million emotions in her dark eyes. They all flashed as you made eye contact, making each feeling hard to identify. “Do you?”

“Like girls?” Your breathing was halted. Was Kiara… feeling the same way towards you as you had been for her?

“I-I don’t know.”

Kie turned towards you. When you looked at her, you could see the tears in her eyes.

You could identify a strong sense of hope in her dark eyes.

“You don’t know?”

Suddenly, you remembered.

Hunter.

Your amazing boyfriend that you loved so much.

“It doesn’t really matter though, I guess. Since I’m with Hunter.”

The words had left your mouth before you could stop them.

Kie took a deep breath, and looked away.

“Right. Hunter.”

A few minutes later, you’d arrived at the cafe. No more words had been spoken, and tension in the car was thick.

Once the car was parked, you finally spoke.

“Are you ready to go?”

Kie nodded. “Yeah, I think so.”

The two of you climbed out of the car, Kiara going into the back to grab her guitar. Once everything was locked up, the two of you headed inside in silence.

The crowd was bustling with life in the small cafe. On one side, people with songbooks and sheet music sat with their instruments, and on the other side, people sat sipping on cups on coffee.

When you noticed the separation, Kie headed over to the performers side. You gave a light ‘good luck,’ to which Kiara didn’t reply, and then the two of you went separate ways.

Kiara took a seat in the performer section, looking nervously at the people around her. She tried her best to push away the feelings from the conversation in the car earlier, but it was very difficult. For a moment there, she had allowed herself to believe that the feelings she had for you were reciprocated. That look in your eye when you looked at her… something about it made her think you felt the same as she did. Unfortunately, she was wrong.

You just had to bring your Hunter.

Kiara hated Hunter, though she’d never let you know that. She had no real reason to hate him, but she did. She hated him so much, it was almost painful to see his face.

She hated him because he had what Kie wanted more than anything else in the world.

You.

Kie watched you as you moved around on the other side of the cafe. You were standing at the counter, talking to the barista. Though Kie couldn’t hear you over the bustle of the place, she knew exactly what you were saying.

You were ordering your usual: a large vanilla sweet cream cold brew with caramel drizzle. You order has been the same for what feels like forever. You had tried other things, but you always stuck to your favorite.

“I’ve never liked anything as much as this.” You’d said a few weeks earlier, when Kie had teased you for never changing your order.

Kie longed to be over there with you, teasing you about your order. Just talking to you lit up her life. You were everything to her, and she wasn’t even afraid to admit it.

You got your coffee, thanking the barista and dropping some change in the tip jar.

Kie watched as you scanned the room, searching for an empty seat. As you looked around, your eyes met Kiara’s, and you held her gaze for a moment. Though you didn’t know why she was being so cold towards you earlier, you couldn’t help but offer a small smile of encouragement.

To your great relief, she smiled back.

Once you knew she was alright, you broke her gaze and continued searching for a seat. You wanted to sit near the front, so that you could lock eyes with Kie when she was on stage as a form of moral support, but all of the front seats were taken.

Slightly disappointed, you had to take a seat in the back, near the exit.

When Kie saw that smile you gave her, she knew something had to be done. Even when the two of you weren’t really on the best terms, you continued to support her.

She loved you so fucking much.

Right then and there, Kiara made a decision, one she hoped she wouldn’t come to regret in the future.

An hour had gone by, and many performers had made their way on and off the stage in the small cafe. You counted down the performers until your best friend went on the stage, nervously playing with the straw on your cup. Even though you weren’t the one going up on the stage, you still felt terrified.

When the performer before your friend was reading off the last lines of his slam poem, your heart began to race.

The guy walked off, and you watched your friend stand up.

“Next up, we have Kiara Carrera, performing an original song called ‘differences aside.’ Let’s give her a very warm welcome!”

You could barely hear the announcer calling Kie’s name over the sound of your heart pounding.

Up on the stage, Kiara’s heart was pounding just as loud.

See, when Kie showed up at your house earlier in the day, she had completely intended to sing the song the two of you had written together. ‘Differences Aside’ was a beautiful song, and one she was very proud of. However, after the events that had went down on the way to the cafe, her mind had changed.

She was writing a song she had written by herself.

A song she wrote about you.

“Hey, everyone, I’m Kiara. I know I said that I was gonna be singing a song called ‘Differences Aside,’ but there’s been a slight change of plans. I’m going to be singing a different original instead. I hope you all enjoy it.”

When she had finished talking, she made direct eye contact with you. You were shocked by her words, and a little bit upset. Was she really so frustrated with you, or hurt by your previous conversation, that she refused to sing the song you wrote together?

It was heartbreaking, and you moved lower in your seat as she began strumming her guitar, fighting the tears forming in your eyes.

“I grew pretty attached to you,

Like a dog on a lead

Thought you were everything I could’ve dreamed of,

And all I could ever need.

But you like him, him, him

And you don’t like me.”

Kiara’s voice rang out as she began singing. She sounded beautiful, and the song was very pretty.

You would’ve loved it, but you were slightly confused.

With every word she sang, she was looking directly into your eyes.

“Always thought you looked at me differently

Than any other you'd see

Thought you were aching to see me

At any, any possibility

But you like boys, boys, boys

And you don't like me.”

Your eyes widened at the last lyrics.

Was this song about you?

“I could be a bitch and tell you a million reasons why

Being with me would be much better than with any other guy

I could tell you I'll treat you right

And never wrong

Tell you in my arms is where you belong

“But I know that you can't change someone

So I'll just leave you alone, although

I wish you liked girls, girls, girls

Wish you liked girls, girls, girls

Girls like me.”

With Kie looking in your eyes as she sang, the lyrics hit you hard.

She did have feelings for you.

Tears began to sting your eyes, and you were overcome with emotion. You dropped Kie’s eyes, grabbing your things and standing up. Unable to stay any longer, you ran out the door, crying as you did.

Inside, up on the stage, Kiara’s heart dropped as she watched you leave. She had no choice but continue to sing.

“I wish you would’ve been more clear

When I was hanging out with you

That women isn't really something

That you've ever been into

'Cause you like boys, boys, boys

And you don't like me.”

Tears began to fall as she sang, blurring her eyes. She just kept strumming, putting everything she had into the last verse and chorus of the song.

“And I know you don't swing that way

But that won't take my feelings away

Oh I wish you liked girls

I wish you liked girls

Like me”

It became harder to sing as sobs caught in her throat, but she pushed through. She was going to make it through this performance. She had to.

“I could be a bitch and tell you a million reasons why

Being with me would be much better than with any other guy

I could tell you I'll treat you right

And never wrong

Tell you in my arms is where you belong

But I know that you can't change someone

So I'll just leave you alone, although

I wish you liked girls, girls, girls

Wish you liked girls, girls, girls

Girls like me”

When the last chord rang out at the end of the song, the crowd erupted in applause and murmurs. Kie choked out a quiet ‘thank you’ in the microphone before running off the stage and outside to you.

She was so so scared that she’d ruined everything.

When she got out there, you on the phone, sniffling as you spoke.

“See you soon. Okay, bye.”

You turned around, and your cheeks immediately went pink when you saw her.

“Hi.” You said softly, not knowing what else to do.

“Who was that on the phone?”

“Hunter.”

Kie’s heart dropped when she heard the name. She recalled your words from when she’d first walked out. ‘See you soon.’ Her heart dropped further.

“Is he coming to pick you up?”

You shook your head, causing a small bit of relief to flood through kiara. “What were you talking to him about?”

You paused for a moment, dropping the eye contact the two of you were making.

“I broke up with him.”

Your friend let out a light gasp, hope entering her mind once again. “Oh.”

You just nodded, looking anywhere but at Kiara.

“May I ask why?”

Your response was simple.

You ran up to her and kissed her.

Finally.

Kiara was taken aback, but kissed back eagerly, so happy this was finally happening.

And when she was kissing you, everything was good.

Maybe changing the song was a good idea after all.

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liquor-and-intellect · 5 years

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PREHISTORIC PART TWO

Summary: Talia is a singer inspired by the man who broke her heart. The man who left her to pursue his career in the music industry without a second thought. The man who happens to be Harry Styles and is paying her show a visit.

Part One

Roman found me in the alleyway, still staring at the space Harry had previously taken up. A fragrance of clean linen and a hint of spice still hung in the air. The nostalgia of his familiar unchanged scent— even after all these years— threatened to wrap itself around my throat and squeeze until I couldn’t take it anymore.

“I’m not saying I just saw Harry Styles cry,” Roman began. “But I’m pretty sure he was close to tears.”

Roman’s voice was like a punch to my gut. This little bubble of conflicting feelings I had resided in for the past few minutes was immediately popped at the presence of his voice.

“What’s going on, Tal?” Roman noticed my defeated posture. “You look like you just saw a ghost.”

“I feel like I did.” And it was true. This image I’ve had in my head ever since I put the lyrics of Prehistoric on paper, just happened to come true tonight. I always wished he could hear the words I was thinking, feel the emotions I let cause me dread. I wished I could sing this song to him and he would fall to his knees and beg for me back. Apologize for everything he put us through.

Then here he was. Whole. New. A priceless sparkle in his eyes that hadn’t previously been there-- but yet he was the same.

And it caused me so much anger that I had even surprised myself.

“You two had a thing, didn’t you?" Roman asked. If I hadn’t been so emotionally drained, I could have picked up on the hint of sadness his words held.

I nodded.

Roman pressed, "Does he want you back?"

I shrugged. "I don't know what he wants."

"Do you want him back?"

I don't know what I want. "No," I lied.

Roman was silent for a beat before, "Did he invite you back to his place?"

If this was anyone else, I wouldn't have allowed the excessive amount of questions. Besides my music, I was a fairly private person and my band knew that. The boys all knew that the only piece of me they would get would be the part I let them see when I jotted down lyrics on napkins in bars or came to rehearsal with papers stacked on crumbled papers that I wrote in the manic hours of the night.

At this point in my life, Roman was one of the only people I let close to me. So, I let his numerous amount of questions roll off my back because I knew they were only asked out of genuine concern.

I let out a long breath. "Yeah." Straightening my back, I attempted to look more like myself. "He said if I wanted to talk about things, he'd be at his hotel until tomorrow."

There was something indecipherable on Roman's face as he asked, "Are you going to go?"

Honestly, I didn't know. A part of me knew I wouldn't be able to sleep knowing he was so close and willing to talk. Another part of me wanted to bury that part of my life once and for all. I settled for an easy answer that would give Roman a peace of mind. "No. Of course not." But even I didn't believe it.

At my answer, Roman stepped closer to me. So close that I could feel his breath on my forehead and see the pulsing veins in his arms that he usually got after a good show.

"Good," he whispered, before closing the gap between us and placing his lips on my own.

It wasn't that I hadn't kissed anyone since Harry and I broke things off. I had experienced my share of one night stands and attempts at dating— usually after I saw on Twitter that Harry was caught with someone new, but that's besides the point.

The point is, I'm not sure why my entire body rejected Roman's lips on my own. It should have been effortless. It would have been so easy for us to fall into this relationship after all we shared in common. We had been close friends after all—and in another life, I truly believe that he would have made me happy.

Unfortunately for my happiness, it wasn't this easy and all I could think about is the smell of clean linen and spice that still hung in the air from a man that still had every possible grip on my heart. It wasn't fair, I thought, that after two years, he waltzes back in and changes everything once again.

Maybe he didn't change anything at all. Maybe it had always been there.

I pushed Roman off. "I- uh... I'm sorry," I muttered, thinking of green eyes. "I just can't do this right now."

Roman let out a breath, composing himself. "I understand," he reaffirmed, always kind, always patient. "when you're ready, you know where to find me."

I nodded, thankful— but also a bit uneasy. I don't think I could ever give him what he deserved in a world where Harry Styles existed.

In the end, I walked away. Packing up my things and hailing a taxi back to my apartment.

HARRY’S POV

I don't know what I expected.

For her to run back into my arms? Cry and kiss me? No, none of that...

Doesn't mean that I hadn't hoped for it though.

It had been a couple hours since I left the bar where Talia was playing. She'd been... absolutely electrifying on that stage. She sang and moved with such a magnetism and passion that I haven't seen in the music industry in a very long time. When she placed the microphone up to her mouth, you couldn't look away— and if you were able to, it was physically painful. As if ripping your eyes off this bundle of light was the most unnatural action known to man.

I had heard the songs before. When her band released their EP on Spotify, I couldn't bring myself to listen to her voice on my two thousand dollar lavish speakers. It felt wrong. Instead, I pressed play in my car and drove endlessly through the night, as if my aimless driving would land me back on her front doorstep—wherever that might have been. I knew undoubtedly what songs were about me, I could hear the hurt that I had caused when I initially left for L.A or when I had eventually stopped answering her calls. The pained lyrics were so overwhelming that I drank for three days straight. Then, when a friend of mine pulled me out of my stupor, I wrote about it.

God, I filled up notebooks with lines about her. How I was guilty, how I was mad that she didn't try harder when we were together, how I was frustrated that none of our friends would talk to me anymore, but ultimately how much I still loved her after a year and how terrified I was that I would live the rest of my life with this weight on my chest.

I checked my email, trying to pass the time. I knew deep down that Talia wasn't going to come to the hotel. She had every right not to. Not after all the shit I’ve done.

A subject line of an email caught my eye, it was labeled: Talia.mp3.

My heart dropped to my stomach; I had almost forgotten that I had sold this song to Mikaela Straus months back. Hesitantly, I opened the email as if the song would play before I clicked on it—before I was ready to hear it.

The email read:

Harry,

This track is absolutely killer. Thank you for sharing it with me and letting me tell this story for you. I'm sorry for whatever caused you to write it, because that pain feels so real. I hope I did Talia justice.

xx Mikaela

After my three-day drunken depression, I experienced—what my friends called—a resurrection. I put myself in the studio and wrote until my fingers bled. We banged on instruments, used up ink pens, and tore papers from writing too quickly. In the midst, a song named Talia was born.

It was too raw, too personal for me, that I couldn’t release it. I could barely even sing it without being hit with a wave of emotion. If I released it, I knew my fans would connect the dots and as much as I wanted her music to blow up, I knew she would never forgive me for her career always being tied to this desperate song about her. But the words deserved a chance to take their own form, so I sold it to Mikaela—or King Princess, as she goes by—to let the lyrics breathe on their own. Even if I had released it as my original, I would never be able to perform it live and the speculation and questioning would eventually drive me mad.

My finger did this strange dance where it hovered above the hyperlink to the song. I felt like I couldn’t bring myself to play it. It was like opening a piece of my diary and letting someone else read it out loud for the world to hear.

But the emotions were real. I had experienced them. Even if I had caused them, I deserved to feel them and acknowledge the pain that resided in my chest.

After a small deliberation, I hit play.

There was a slight crescendo of a piano before Mikaela’s voice emitted from my laptop speakers.

“Hey, my love

buried you a month or two ago.

I keep thinking that you’re standing on my floor

That you’re waiting there for me…”

After the third time hitting play, I fell asleep to Mikaela’s voice cracking as she sang the name Talia.

Talia’s POV

It was 4 a.m.

I spent 3 hours after I got home pacing my living room. Another hour spent scrubbing my body of any trace of the night. Another hour cleaning my apartment. I was absolutely manic. I couldn’t breathe properly without the weight of anxiety on my chest. I also couldn’t sit still knowing that a five minute drive away, Harry sat in a hotel room.

So here I was. In front of room 310 at a fucking Hilton Hotel. I was staring at the door, trying to will myself to knock.

You deserve closure, I thought to myself.

My fist rapped against the thick door.

I stood there.

Thirty awkward seconds went by.

I couldn’t bring myself to knock again. Letting my eyes continue to stare at the gray of the door as if it would give me x-ray vision into a room where Harry was.

A minute went by… then two.

Defeated, I felt like sobbing. I had been driving myself mad all night for him to just not answer? No, I wasn’t going to accept this. He couldn’t just show up at my show after two years of not seeing him. After completely ripping my heart out of my chest.

I banged louder on my door. If he chose to ignore this knock, I knew other residents in this hallway wouldn’t.

There was a slight scuff on the other end, a jingle of a lock being removed, then the tentative movement of a door opening.

Harry stood in front of me. His hair was in disarray, curls standing up in all directions, along with a red mark across his face—where I guessed his arm had been tucked under his cheek as he slept.

He was also shirtless, but I tried my best not to ogle at the number of new tattoos that covered his chest.

“Talia.” The grogginess from sleep laid a warm blanket across his British accent, wrapping his words in a soft rasp. If I could ever manage to recreate that tone in my music, I swear I would make millions.

“Hi,” I whispered.

There was a moment of peace as I stood outside his door. A boy and a girl staring at each other outside a hotel room at 4 a.m. There was a wave off complex and overwhelming feelings that were drowning me. Above all else, there was an intense urge not to run into his arms that I was desperately fighting off like a bad cold.

I sniffled.

“Come in,” he said.

And I walked in, because how could I ever say no?

Anons are open if you need to talk about ;)

Song mentioned in this part is Talia by King Princess.

masterlist

#harry #harry styles #harry styles imagine #Harry styles angst #harry styles ff #fanfic #ff #angst #harry fanfic #talia #prehistoric #harry angst #harry x celebrity #harry x singer #harry styles romance #romance #love story #short story

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roguelioness · 6 years

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First Drabbles

I was tagged by the always-wonderful @galadrieljones to post some of the first drabbles that I ever wrote. Like gala, a lot of my very first fandom related writings are in notebooks that are now long lost, so I’ll stick to the fandom I currently write for - Dragon Age.

Tagging @long-liv-prairies, @kagetsukai, @shannaraisles, @rawrzimon, @wickedwitchofthewilds, @ladydracarysao3, @ma-sulevin, @thevikingwoman, @buttsonthebeach, @empresstress13, @kaoruyogi, @idrelle-miocovani, @ladynorbert and everyone who reads this!

The first few ficlets I haven’t ever posted anywhere. Many of them are small bits of scenes and dialogue from ideas I had, but they tapered out. Either I lost interest, or lost inspiration, or just never got around to working more on them.

My first ever drabble was for a half-elven Inquisitor, Callista Trevelyan. She was the daughter of Ostwick noble Bann Trevelyan and his elven maid Ashalle; when Callista was five years old, she looked too much like her father for anyone to doubt she was Bann Trevelyan’s child, so he reluctantly brought her up with his other children. She was never accepted, and it was actually a relief for her to wind up in Ostwick’s Circle. Her story was meant to be a love triangle with Cullen and Solas, which is why I stopped writing - I couldn’t find an ending that would be happy for all three of them. *shrugs* Maybe someday I will, who knows.

In the meantime, here’s a snippet from what I had written for her (below the cut):

She rose much before the first faint threads of dawn had meandered across the sky, as was her habit. It was the only time she to do the things she wanted to do. Slowly unwinding her limbs from the tangled sheets she crossed the room to enter the private alcove in the corner that served as her water closet. She filled the large bathtub with water - one of the few luxuries she’d asked for - and with a slow, tired wave of her hand heated it up. She stepped out of the thin, but surprisingly warm nightgown she wore, and neatly put them into the basket that served to hold her soiled garments. She slid into the water with a soft sigh, and tried to relax.

Relax. Not something that came easily with the title Inquisitor.

She reached for the elegantly designed bottle that held her cleansing fluid, something she’d created herself, meant to cleanse and soothe her skin. She smiled wryly, she was a woman after all, prone to all the womanly vanities.

She rose out of the water and dried herself with the towel placed nearby. She enjoyed this ritual she had in the mornings at Skyhold; they calmed her, calmed her thoughts and worries if only for a little while. Pouring the oil richly scented with amber and orange blossom she worked it into her limbs slowly, massaging it into the parts of her that ached. Dressing herself in a rich royal blue tunic and breeches of a warm brown she walked out of her room and down the stairs to the main hall.

She paused in front of the throne. She inevitably did. It was the most prominent piece of furniture in the room, after all. It was imposing and commanding, and for the thousandth time, she wondered the turn of events that lead to it being hers.

Her mouth twisted up into a mocking smile. Callista Trevelyan, head of the Inquisition, respected by Ferelden and Orlais. What would Sedrick and Paulette say if they saw her now? Her thoughts went to her mother as she chewed on her lip worriedly. Leliana had been unable to find anything of Ashalle. Her hands clenched into fists unconsciously. The last she’d heard of her mother was that she’d been sent away. By Paulette, no doubt. That snivelling little druffalo shit was always jealous of the mother-daughter bond she had with Ashalle. She took a deep breath, rolling her shoulders. Leliana was on it. She’d handle it, and if anyone could track her mother down, it was the Nightingale.

Letting out a small sigh, she shook her head to get rid of the melancholy thoughts and found her way to the kitchen for the two honey cakes she always had to help with the bitter tasting elfroot-and-spindleweed concoction she had each morning. She was trying to get the others into it as well, but no one save Vivienne was willing to brave the taste. Picking up the trough of hot pear cider and two mugs, she walked up onto the battlements. Here, she offered the night guards a warm drink. Which she was sure they welcomed, but more importantly it gave her the chance to talk to them, to get to know some of the people she was defending, the people who put all their faith into her. Being around them gave her the strength and the courage to face the day, with all its trials and tribulations.

Cullen found her on the battlements of the right tower laughing with the guards, and a warm glow enveloped him. He knew she did this for herself, but she would never know how much it meant to the soldiers. They knew she cared about them, and all her small kindnesses only strengthened their loyalty to her.

He approached her, his face grim. “Inquisitor,” he spoke. She turned to face him, the smile on her lips disappearing as she saw his expression. He hated that, hated knowing that the news he had would cause her grief. “Might I talk to you? In my office, perhaps?” She tilted her head in acknowledgement, and lead the way to his office. He followed, closing the door behind them as she turned around to face him. He handed her a scroll. “The people we lost at Haven. I’m sorry.”

She took the scroll from him, reading through it, and looked up with a face writ with raw grief. “I should have done more, Cullen. I should have save more of them. I failed Flissa, and Minaeve, and all the rest. Corypheus came for me, and how many died for that?” She absently rubbed her hand across her eyes to wipe away unshed tears.

“Inquisi - Callista, it wasn’t your fault. How could you have known? None of us knew who he was at the time. None of us knew what he’d do. You saved so many of us. And so many of your friends, too.” He did something completely out of character and wrapped his arms around her, his head resting on top of hers. “You nearly died, offering up your life to save the rest. Callista, you did all you could. It is not your fault. “

She leaned into him, taking a deep breath, then pulled away to look up at him with a shaky smile. “Thank you, Cullen. I needed that.”

He let go and took a step back, giving her a comforting smile. “I only speak the truth.”

Her smile grew less shaky. She sighed, and rolled up the scroll. “I should talk to Josephine about setting up a memorial to Haven, with the names of all we lost. It… it’ll help with everyone’s grief.”

He nodded. “I’ll convene the war council later today.” She smiled and placed a gentle hand on his cheek.. “I’ll see you at breakfast, Commander.”

He watched her leave, feeling overwhelmed with the range of emotions coursing through him. She is a mage, he told himself. Surely, he needed to be wary, after Kirkwall, after all he’d seen…

Then he saw her laugh with the scout outside his office, and the sound, clear, rich and warm, drove all thought out of his mind, save one.

Maker help me. I’m in love with her.

Solas walked into the communal dining room, his eyes immediately seeking the Inquisitor. Not that he’d ever admit it. She had caught his interest from the minute she walked out of the Fade, the sole survivor of the explosion at the Conclave. He’d felt some guilt over all the lives lost, but at the time, they were all just shemlen to him. Undeserving of the land they stood on, akin to weeds. But now… now, the waters were murkier. Being around them, day after day, their lives, loves and desires so like the Elves of old… he reined in his train of thought, gave up on the Inquisitor, and sat at the table next to the Varric.

“Morning, Chuckles,” the dwarf quipped “what’s got your nug? You seem irritated and the day hasn’t even started.”

“Good morning, Child of the Stone. I trust you slept well?”

Varric snorted. “I have a name you can use, Chuckles. Or at least come up with a better nickname.”

Solas grinned “Since you don’t seem to want to use mine, I thought it improper to use yours.”

Varric muttered something indecipherable beneath his breath and stuffed some bread into his mouth.

The noise in the dining hall fell in intensity, and Solas knew that the Inquisitor had arrived. He knew, from memory, she’d be weaving around the tables, stopping here and there to talk to the men and women who gave their lives to the Inquisition’s cause. It was well known that the Inquisitor treated everyone with kindness, and while some of the traditionalists scoffed at it, the majority admired that their leader felt like one of them. He could admire that. He did admire that…

He looked up as she walked over to their table, rising slightly as she sat down. “Solas,” she laughed “how many times have I told you not to rise and interrupt your meal? We’re friends, you and I, and shall stand on no such formality.” Was it just his imagination, or did she emphasize “friends”?

He looked at her, hating the stiff smile on his face. “But of course, Inquisitor.”

She sighed, and turned towards Dorian, who was seated next to Iron Bull. She grinned mischeviously, and Solas felt something twist inside him. “Dorian, I stopped by your quarters last night to borrow a book, and didn’t find you there! Are you well?”

Dorian turned slightly pink, and Iron Bull guffawed. “Nah, boss, our Tevinter mage here was busy last night.”

She grinned, cat-like and wide, and winked at him. “I can see bull riding most definitely suits you!”

The mage from Tevinter turned red, and retorted “Well, at least some of us are capable of having fun, Inquisitor!”

She laughed and nudged him with her elbow, then leaned in close to his ear and whispered something, to which he smiled and nodded.

She is never that free and easy with me. Solas hated it, wanted to hate her for it.

Just then, one of Cullen’s messengers came by with a message for her. Solas frowned at the thought of Cullen, and wondered why.

He heard her quietly reply, please tell the Commander I will be there shortly, and Solas clenched his jaw for a brief moment before remembering his surroundings.

“Nothing serious I hope, Inquisitor?” he asked smoothly.

She replied distractedly “Hmmm? No, I don’t think so. It appears some of our people are missing in the Fallow Mire. Leliana will be giving me more details, but it looks like a party will be heading that way tomorrow.”

Iron Bull slammed his tankard on the table. “I’m ready anytime, boss!”

Solas inclined his head gracefully. “I hope you know that you can call on my services at any time, Inquisitor.”

She smiled, a serious look in her eyes. “Thank you. Iron Bull, I’ll let you know, but Solas I’d like you to join the party. I have a feeling we’ll need another mage.”

He nodded, and watched her walk away, enjoying the sway of her hips. Varric piped up, “She does have a nice behind, our Inquisitor”.

“Oh really?” Solas replied coolly, “I hadn’t noticed.” Giving a curt nod to the others at the table, he rose. “If you’ll excuse me, I must prepare for the journey.”

Varric put a hand on his arm, stopping him for a second. He spoke quietly, directing his words such that only Solas could hear them. “Callista’s good people, Solas. Don’t do anything reckless.”

Solas looked at Varric disdainfully. “Me? Do something with her? She’s not my type, Varric. She is not of my kind.” With that, he walked away.

Was it really so bad she wasn’t an elf?

#ask meme #first drabbles #writing related #not da #roguelioness writes #callista trevelyan #cullen #solas

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ahiddenpath · 7 years

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Author Asks

I was tagged by my gal @ackbang in her post here! Thank you m’dear :D Some author-type asks for you below the cut!

1) How many works in progress to do you currently have in progress?

HAHAHAHAHAHA. HAHA. HA.

Too damned many. I’m (aggressively) trying to complete Seeking Resonance. I’m also working on a one shot off and on (Okaeri). After that, I want to focus on completing Four Years.

Longfics are your enemy, lol x__x

2) Do you/would you write fan fiction?

I would annnnnd I do.

3) Do you prefer paper books or ebooks?

I would much rather read a physical book, but ebooks are convenient and waaaaaay easier to store. I end up borrowing most books from the library so I can read them physically and return them.

4) When did you start writing?

Oh, boy.

When I was growing up, my best friend was a year ahead of me in school. When she was learning to write, her mom bought her a journal. I could not write yet, but I wanted to tell stories so badly that I asked for my own journal. I drew sequential pictures to tell stories (comics without panels or words, basically).

I still have the journal, but alas, all of the pictures are indecipherable to me!

I started keeping notebooks of stories around second grade, and I started writing Digimon fanfics in middle school. In high school and college, I worked on a fantasy novel. These days, I’m back into Digimon fanfics, as you know.

5) Do you have someone you trust that you share your work with?

Only one person I know irl is allowed to read my fanfics, lol. I won’t even let my husband read them- which I think is a relief to him, given how much I’ve written.

Honestly, I hesitate to share my original works, too. There’s too much unsolicited advice from folks who have never dabbled in creative writing, lol XD It’s crazy how quick people are to see/impose/demand I add political stances into my work, too O__O

6) Where is your favorite place to write?

Anywhere I can. For productivity’s sake, I think it’s important to cultivate the ability to work in any setting, and the ability to jump right in. I think that if you require a ritual and a specific space (for example, ONLY being able to write in your room with x type of tea and y type of incense or something), your odds of producing decrease.

Given the choice, I would like to be somewhere quiet and private.

7) Favorite childhood book?

TOO MANY.

Roughly in increasing age: The Fairy Rebel, Lynne Reid Banks, Matilda, Roald Dahl, Absolutely Normal Chaos, Sharon Creech, Island of the Blue Dolphins, Scott O’Dell, The Hobbit, J. R. R. Tolkien, Harry Potter, J. K. Rowling, The Last Dragonlord and Dragon and Phoenix, Joanne Bertin, Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austen, Jane Eyre, Charlotte Bronte

8) Writing for fun or writing for publication?

It’s for fun right now, but I would love to do it professionally.

9) Pen and paper or computer?

Oh, computer. I can write by hand, but computer is much easier and more fluid. My hand can’t keep up with my spazzing brain, lol!

10) Have you ever taken any writing classes?

I took one! It was... Honestly it was more of a lesson in humans than writing. It was so interesting to form impressions of people and then have them subverted by what they wrote.

11) What inspires you to write?

Maybe it’s selfish, but I find myself writing to explore myself and my world view, and to try to understand and unravel those deep-rooted hurts.

Basically, writing= free and fun therapy.

Thanks for the tag!!! Um, I feel like we’ve tagged some mutuals, so uh... Please feel free to do this one if you’re interested! I don’t want to distract anyone doing nano, though x__x No pressure!!!

#writing #ask hidden

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clotpolesonly · 7 years

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for the writer meme!! how about 1, 2, 12, 27, 32, and 48?

1) Tell us about your WIP!

i’ve got several, but the one i really need to get back to most urgently is For Shell And Safety. i was really feeling that story, and then i ran out of outline. cuz i was stupid and didn’t outline in detail all the way to the end. so i got majorly stuck and it’s been 4 months since i wrote anything on it now.

but it’s the first story i’ve written entirely from an OC perspective and i’m super proud of what i’ve got so far cuz she really feels like a fully developed character to me, with her own drives and motivations that happen to coincide with the canon characters around her, and her own crucial part to play in the fic’s resolution that no one else could do instead.

i swear to god i’m gonna finish it eventually. if i don’t, i will be wholly disappointed in myself. wish me luck.

2) Where is your favorite place to write?

i like to write outside when the weather is nice, but let’s be honest, this is florida and truly good weather comes about like twice a year, lol. right now i do a lot of my writing outside a diner near my office, since i have weird hours at work and have to wait over an hour before i get picked up every day. so i’ll sit outside there and get some writing done.

also i seem to be strangely productive when i get dragged out to bars or karaoke? cuz i want to avoid talking to anyone, so i bring my notebook, and all the loudness kind of blends into indecipherable background noise. so idk if i’d call that a favorite place, but it’s certainly an effective one.

12) Which story of yours do you like best? why?

NOT A FAIR QUESTION, buuuuuut i’ve always gotta go with To Be A King. it’s the longest thing i’ve ever written and i somehow managed to write (most of) it very quickly and totally without any outline!!! i’m just really fucking proud of that one, the way the story progresses, the parallel character growth, the OCs and original setting that all the readers loved. also really proud of the sick burns and oh snap moments i got into that fic lmao, and the ending speech. honestly nothing i have ever written is more satisfying to me than the ending speech of that fic.

27) Every writer's least favorite question - where does your inspiration come from? Do you do certain things to make yourself more inspired? Is it easy for you to come up with story ideas?

haha, probably from avoidance of real life? writing’s an escape ofc, so whenever i need a distraction or get bored, i just pick a character or a ship and start asking myself what if questions. i’ll look around me and think “what if A and B were here right now? what if X and Y happened?” sometimes it goes somewhere, sometimes it doesn’t.

or i’ll pick a trope or an AU. particularly effective for when i can’t think of anything right off the top of my head.

i swear, i have more ideas than i know what to do with. i am never at a loss for a new idea. i keep a list. i’ve got well over 50 story ideas in a google doc, ready for when i have the time, energy, and motivation to actually get around to writing them all (fingers crossed on that ever happening, tbh at least 3/4 of them are probably going to languish forever T_T)

32) On average how much do you write in a day? do you have trouble staying focused/getting the word count in?

in a day? lol probably none. i tend to do no writing at all for a long time, then write a whole lot in a spree. when i sit down and actually get to working, i can churn out anywhere from 1-8k in a sitting, but usually averaging around 2.5k in on a decent day.

if i know the direction a fic is going, i can write really fast and really easily. like when i wrote TBAK, i churned out 78k in 30 days (which is an average of 2.6k per day), and i think i beat that record last year with how quickly i wrote Okay Will Get Us Through??

if i’m not completely sure where the fic is going, that’s when i get tripped up and frustrated and give up easily. that’s when i get subsumed in tumblr lol, cuz i go searching for inspiration and deeeefinitely do not find it.

48) Do you prefer to write skimpy drafts and flesh them out later, or write too much and cut it back?

i don’t do drafts. i write the fic all the way through from start to finish and then i’m done with it. if i don’t like the words i’ve put on the page, then i don’t move on to the next page. i do my editing in real time, in a way, paragraph by paragraph. usually whenever i sit down to start writing, i reread the last section i wrote, both to remind myself of what i just wrote and to make sure i still like it. i’ll make slight changes then if i need to.

really, i don’t do actually revisions unless i have a larger aspect of the fic that i want to change. the only fic i’ve ever actually gone back and Revised^TM was TBAK, and then i only did it cuz i knew that i wanted to write a sequel and i knew what the sequel was going to be about, so i needed to set up some key elements that were going to factor into the next plotline that i hadn’t thought to include in the initial writing.

otherwise no, i don’t do drafts at all. but i do have a tendency to over-write, so when i do my minute-by-minute rewrites, i tend toward cutting back and deleting overstatements and unnecessary tangents/descriptions.

send me writer asks!

#fics by me #misstchotchke #and the answer is

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