#very fun silly song! suits my voice well enough but more than that it sounds good with a smile in my voice | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

meetmymouth · 3 years

Note

ooh I think #7 and #17 from the blurb list would fit very well together! if you want!

THANK YOU LINDS <3<3

prompt list here, send a number!!

#7 If we both want to fit, we’ll have to cuddle

#17 Sleeping in the same bed for the first time

THIS IS 3K IM SORRY I COULDN'T HELP MYSELF SO PLEASE REBLOG LMAOOOOOO!!!!!

"This is my room," comes a gruff voice behind you as you keep looking out the window, taking in the greenery and the beautiful ocean.

See, you knew he would be here.

You knew, because Harry and Mitch were attached at the hip, and you didn't mind. You didn't mind seeing your ex every time you were invited to hang out with MitchandSarah & co, except when said ex decided to be an evil arsehole.

Perhaps, calling him an "ex" was weird, seeing how your time alone only consisted of you both getting high, mostly naked as he whispered the filthiest things in your ear and promised to make you feel good, be the best you've ever had. Other than that, though, he was an insufferable bastard. Since you never hung out with the man without your friends around–getting rat-arsed and high... and the activities that followed aside–, you didn't know if he was always this annoying.

He seemed to be getting along just fine with the others, especially Sarah and the other girls, so you had no problems scratching off the "women hater" off your list. And you can't ever recall him being this insufferable while you both were fucking which was, in his case, miserable. So, it was definitely annoying. You weren't that interested in him to think that he was being mean because he was secretly in love with you. That was a myth, a pathetic myth, wasn't it? No, you wouldn't steep that low. He was just an arse, full stop.

You turn around with an eye-roll, and within seeing his face, you nearly clench your fists like a ten-year-old. "Do you live here?" You ask, hoping the boring expression on your face is also detectable in your tone.

It's certainly not a surprise when Harry scoffs.

"I don't, but I picked this room first. Since, you know," he looks around, and walks further into the room, finally stopping at the feet of the bed. "You were late. As per."

"Oh fuck off. This isn't summer camp. Besides, I don't see any of your shit around. The room was empty when I arrived."

"If you bothered to look inside the wardrobe..."

Seriously, you find yourself thinking, how the fuck did you ever end up with this man. Naked.

There's a commotion downstairs, so you both turn to the door, but much to your dismay, there's no one coming to check up on you and hopefully, save you from Harry Styles' pathetic gob.

You turn towards the window again, eyes squinting briefly at the last bits of sunshine that's glinting from between the branches.

"Well. You shouldn't have left then. You weren't here when I arrived."

Harry shakes his head, and you swear you can see his nostrils flaring if you look carefully. Though, you just watch him with a smug smile on your face as he walks to the wardrobe and pulls open the white doors. True to his word, his clothes are there, perfectly folded, and for a moment you feel a pang of guilt before you look back up at his face and see the furrowed eyebrows.

"See. My clothes. I'm sure Sarah will sort it out for you, find you another room or summat."

"There's only three bedrooms. Can't sleep with a pregnant woman and her boyfriend, can I?"

"What about Rachel and David? Aren't you best friend's with her?"

"Harry, you're ridiculous. Just–" you wipe the sweat off of your forehead, feeling yourself grow hotter and hotter each passing minute. "–just sleep on the sofa. This is my first vacation this year. You go on holidays every week or so. Let us commoners have this."

"Oh, please. Didn't you have a girls weekend getaway or whatever the fuck in Soho Farmhouse two weeks ago?"

You can't help the scoff that leaves your mouth, and a raised eyebrow follows. "How do you know about that?"

"Because," he rolls his eyes, and slams the wardrobe shut. "You post seven hundred stories every day."

"You're a stalker."

"You sleep on the sofa."

You smirk, noticing how he avoided your previous statement.

To be fair, you hated posting on your story. Though, knowing Harry followed you on Instagram made posting on there fun, and seeing his username on the list of who watched your stories pop up at the very top every single time whenever you posted a story almost made you let out a mingy little laugh and rub your hands together, and scream "gotcha!".

"I won't."

"You're getting on my nerves."

"What a coincidence," you ignore the stare he's sending your way and walk towards your carry on, and start taking the contents out one by one, laying everything on the bed.

He watches with a scowl on his face, arms crossed across his chest, and a satisfied smile paints your features as you take out the toiletries bag next.

"Are you seriously unpacking right now?" Harry cranes his neck so he can see better. He looks ridiculous, standing in the middle of the room with arms crossed, but you refrain from saying anything.

In fact, you don't even answer him. Perhaps, you find yourself thinking, it was silly to unpack your underwear first. It wasn't as if you brought super "sexy" shit or lace everything. You can definitely feel his gaze watching your every movement as you take everything out carefully and place them on top of each other. With most of your underwear in hand, you get on one knee in front of the bedside table and open the drawer, placing everything inside and it's surprising how he hasn't claimed the bedside table yet.

"Look," he sighs. "I'll talk to Sarah, maybe you can sleep with her and Mitch–"

"–don't be stupid we're not making them sleep with other people because you can't be a gentleman and sleep on the sofa."

"Oh for fuck's sake," he growls, and you finally look at him, eyebrows raised in hopes of making him feel as stupid as he sounds right now. Unfortunately, though, he continues, "Okay, damn it, I'll sleep on the floor."

Fool.

"Common sense, Harry. Always pick sofa. No matter what."

"Were you born to make my life a living hell?"

"Look," you sit on the bed, and look around. "This is boring me to death. I'm sleeping on the bed. If you shut your gob, you can sleep with me on the bed."

Harry lets out an obnoxious laugh. "Just admit I was here first and you didn't bother checking the–"

"Yes, I didn't and what about it? I'm here now, aren't I? I'm on the bed, babes. Anyway," you get on your feet, and with one last look at him, you start walking towards the door. "I'll see you in a bit. I guess."

You both manage to avoid each other as much as you can throughout the day, and really, it wasn't that hard considering the good company of your friends, good food and good alcohol. You mainly helped Sarah and Rachel in the kitchen as the men lounged on the sun loungers, Mitch handling the grill and David helping you guys with the drinks that came in and out of the house pretty quickly with the way you lot consumed them like water.

You spend the night eating, laughing and drinking, sometimes singing along to whatever song played on David's fancy Bluetooth speaker, and everyone begins ushering inside with full bellies and most of them–except the very pregnant Sarah–with a tipsy smile on their faces.

You leave before Harry though, leaving him smoking his last cigarette by the pool while you run up the stairs and into the room, closing the door behind you. You quickly get rid of the romper and get your favourite pyjamas on, eyes searching for the orange makeup bag so you can take off the remaining makeup before bed. You knew it was silly not to do your night routine, but you still zip the bag closed with a sad expression on your face, not wanting to see your toner and night cream any more than you needed to as you throw it on the floor next to your bags. It's pathetic really, how determined you are to get in the bed before Harry can that you forego your whole routine and stick to some cotton pads. Though, plugging your charger and getting between the cool sheets make you forget all about it as you let out a sigh, and unlock your phone to do your nightly scroll before falling asleep.

As you double tap on a selfie, the door opens, and you hear him scoff, again. You keep scrolling though, and try to sneak a few glances at him as he makes a beeline for the wardrobe, and to your surprise, begins to undress. You try to stay calm, and not to think about how domestic this whole thing seems; being in the same room as him as he gets ready for bed.

Right, getting ready for bed.

You keep your eyes on your phone as his clothes hit the floor one by one, and when you look up briefly, he's got a pair of joggers on, and he's throwing the clothes he had on in the wardrobe.

He turns around, and find your gaze, and he rolls his eyes.

"I knew you'd be in bed, here, as soon as I heard someone running. Forgot you were a literal five-year-old," he mutters under his breath, loud enough so you can still hear him. "I'm not sleeping on the sofa."

"I love how you're basically arguing with yourself."

"Like I said, I'm not sleeping on the sofa. I didn't come all the way to sleep on a bloody sofa."

"Suit yourself. I guess we're sharing. Unless," you lock your phone, and place it on the bedside table. "You want to share," you shrug, adjusting your pillow and sigh at the cool fabric against your hot cheeks.

You can feel him thinking, the wheels turning in his head, and you finally hear the floorboards creek underneath his feet as he walks closer to the bed, and pushes the sheets off of you. The whole thing.

You blink in surprise. "Stop it, dude! What the fuck."

"I'm getting in! Fuck's sake, be quiet."

"You did that just to annoy me."

You're both quiet for a minute, Harry taking his rings off and then comes his socks, and he finally copies you, laying on his back on the bed. He covers the both of you, though you know it's not intentional since he couldn't do it without covering his own body with the duvet, and then he lets out a strangled sigh.

"The bed's too small."

"Are you calling me fat?"

"What?" He turns his face to you, and perhaps it's the first time he's looking at you– really looking.

His brows are furrowed, and lips turned downwards in a pout.

"I'm taking the piss, Harry. I know you're not calling me fat."

"Good," he says, though his voice isn't exactly soft. "I wouldn't."

"Good."

Silence.

It's unbearable.

Despite the hot weather, you feel yourself shiver, and you wish you were the only one in bed so you could do the whole burrito technique with the duvet. Alas... you stay where you are. You both do.

A dog barks in the distance, the high-pitched bark coming through the open window, and you can feel Harry breathing too fast beside you. You want to shout at him, tell him to fuck off and... not breathe too fast, though it sounds a bit too rude even for you, so you stay silent and wait for the dog to pipe the fuck down.

You try to turn on your side, because you could never see yourself fall asleep laying on your back like a vampire, but you almost fall, not anticipating the tiny space you've got going on. It's bad, and you know you're not going to get a good sleep. So, you find yourself contemplating about getting up and sleeping on the sofa because honestly, fuck him.

Harry shuffles next to you, presumably trying to find a good position to sleep in himself, but he lets out a groan and it startles you.

"What's wrong with you!"

"The bed's too fucking small."

"We've established that."

He sniffs, hands clenching the sheets around his body. "I don't sleep on my back. My back hurts."

You don't say anything, hoping for him to just get up and leave, go sleep on the sofa. He doesn't, though. It's another fifteen minutes before you let out another sigh, trying to get comfortable on the bed, and Harry copies you. You both turn on your sides, facing each other and Harry groans when your knee makes contact with his thigh, making you cringe in embarrassment. A quiet sorry leaves your mouth and he shakes his head, then turns the other way, facing the door.

"Fuck," he spits after a minute. "If we both want to fit, we'll have to cuddle."

"Cuddle? Fuck no."

"Just," he turns to you again, but the bed is too small for you both so his knees touch yours. "Just come closer. Either that, or go sleep on the sofa."

"Why don't you–"

"You're so stubborn! Come closer, I won't eat you or fall in love with you. Fuck."

You groan, but oblige for some reason, feeling your heart beginning to beat faster for some ridiculous reason.

It's been a long time, you find yourself trying to convince your heart. It's been a long, long time since you've been this close to a human being. Too long since you've cuddled with someone, so obviously you were going to feel a little excited, and weird. Yes, definitely weird.

You get closer and he lifts up his arm, you both sharing a look before you roll your eyes and place your hand on his wrist, placing it on your hip. He's quiet, eyes searching yours, and the crease between his brows are gone, and you want to laugh, because who knew it only took your skin against his to wipe that stupid grimace off of his face.

"I still think you're annoying," Harry mumbles, clearly sleepy. His hold on your hip becomes tighter as his thumb strokes your skin over the fabric.

"I know. Just shut up and sleep."

#harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles smut #harry styles writing #harry styles concept #concepts #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfiction #babyurthendofjune #ask

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artzee-bee · 3 years

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Flower crown worthy of a princess| Lucifer Morningstar x reader

Fandom: Lucifer (Netflix)

Request: “ Can you write reader and Lucifer Who have spent a few hard days and run away from others together and go on a forest picnic and finally dance together in the forest. Forgive me I know it's ridiculous. ”

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: none

~~~

You could barely contain your excitement as you were tying your shoes and checking your bag to make sure you had everything you needed. Lucifer already texted you saying he was waiting for you outside of your apartment building.

Both of you had been going through a very stressful last couple of weeks. Work life was busy for both of you and you were constantly exhausted and on edge, to the point where, when you hung out, you would be too tired to do anything fun, and would spend your time in complete silence, either on your phone or napping.

“I just wanna get away from it all” you said to him one night

“Give me a time and date and I’ll be right there with you, my dear”

At first it was a silly joke, a hopeless dream perhaps, but the more Lucifer thought about it, the more it began to sound like a real possibility. He approached you again, a couple days later, about running away for ‘just a couple days’. You gave in a lot easier than you’d like to admit, but a weekend far away with Lucifer sounded like a dream come true, so you agreed to it. From there on, he swore to take care of all the details. All you needed to do was be ready to get picked up shortly after work on Friday.

You skipped down the stairs, running out the front door of your apartment complex, only to see Lucifer in the parking lot, leaning against his car. He was dressed in a red suit, cigarette between his teeth, he didn’t even seem to notice you until you yelled his name

“Ah, there’s my pretty lady!” he said, extinguishing the cigar and leaning in to give you a kiss. You could still taste the smoke on his lips

“Are you ready?”

“More than ever”

“That’s exactly what I was hoping to hear!”

You hopped in the car and off you went. Miles and miles of road ahead, you didn’t even know where you were going really but the fresh air was running through your hair and the radio was softly playing a bunch of 80s songs. Lucifer’s hand was on your thigh and you couldn’t help but think that if heaven was real, it must feel something like this.

Lucifer drove further and further away, until the city became a mere memory. You couldn’t look through the windows of cafes and fancy boutiques as you rode by anymore, instead you were delighted by the view of green fields and tall trees that made you feel like they would swallow you whole. You tried to get your boyfriend to tell you where you were going, but to no avail.

Eventually you reached a little dead end, in the middle of the forest. Lucifer parked the car and got out to open your door for you

“Is this the big surprise? A dead end street in the middle of nowhere?” you teased

“It sure is my love” his casual voice made you think for just a second that maybe this was it, but before you had time to think that through, Lucifer led you around the trees and bushes in front of which he parked the car, revealing a little open area, in the middle of the forest. You could hear water running somewhere to your right, letting you know there was a little river nearby. The trees were so tall, they felt like they were shielding you from every worry and every bad thing that happened back home and in the middle of it all, there was a little red blanket on the ground. A picnic basket was patiently waiting there, with a flower crown atop.

“Lucifer, did you do this?”

“Who else, darling?” he laughed

“But...when?” you found it hard to say anything. The view before you was astonishing and all you could do was look around to inspect every single detail

“A devil never reveals his secrets” he teased. Lucifer led you to the blanket and picked up the flower crown, placing it on your head

“A little gift for my beautiful princess. It’s not quite like the jewels we see while shopping but I think it suits you much better than gold or silver.” and he was so right! The crown was rich and full of colorful flowers, which complimented your hair color perfectly. Plus, you had never been the materialistic type.

“Thank you Luci”

“Pleasure is all mine, as always” he smiles down at you before grabbing your hand and gesturing for you to sit down.

The basket was full to the top with all sorts of different things. You had everything, from your favorite sandwiches to fruits and snacks, chocolate muffins and ice tea. Music from the car was playing softly in the background. Lucifer even took the time to make a special playlist with both of your favorite songs. You spent so much time there, it began getting pretty cold, so Luci took off his suit jacket and handed it to you. The day was magical, but like all good things, it had to come to an end. Once it started getting dark, you and Lucifer both concluded it was probably time to start packing and leave. You carefully packed away all of the packages and folded the blanket, but right as you were about to hop in the car, you noticed your favorite song coming from the speakers. With a playful smile on your face, you grabbed Lucifer’s hand and dragged him back to where your picnic had been

“Love, what are you doing?”

“Dance with me?” you said, holding out your hand for him to take

“Well, I can’t say no to that'' Lucifer immediately took you into his arms. Your hands went around his neck and his were holding your waist as you swayed back and forth to the slow music. Lucifer was looking into your eyes the entire time, with an awestruck expression.

“What?” you asked, giggling

“You're so beautiful, you know that?” you blushed at him

“Yeah, you make sure to remind me everyday” “And I’ll keep doing that until the end of time because you, my darling, deserve it” as he said these things, he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours, in a soft and gentle kiss. You poured all of your love and soul into kissing him back and it still felt like it wasn’t enough. No matter what you did, you could never love this man enough. Finally, you broke the kiss, and as Lucifer pulled away, he accidently knocked off your crown, making both of you laugh.

“It’s fine I guess, we’re leaving anyways” he said, pulling you in the direction of the car

“Wait, no!” you picked the colorful braid of flowers up, inspecting it carefully “I wanna keep it”

“What for?” “To remember tonight”

“And what are you gonna use it for?”

Years later, that flower crown is hanging above your desk at home. You and Lucifer are married now, and he still teases you about keeping the dried flowers on the wall, but you don’t care, because everytime you look at it, you are reminded of how much you love this man, and always will

#lucifer #lucifer netflix #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar imagine #lucifer morningstar fluff #lucifer morningstar

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raw-lesbian-energy · 3 years

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A Loveable Trap

[Image description: @mayo-is-an-instrument said

I just thought of possibly the cutest idea,,, but anyways, what if Anne and Marcy are being adorable and snuggling with each other, when a little secret is remembered when Anne accidentally brushes Marcy’s side or something and then she just cuddly tickles her? :3 I love them so much jxpjcohxjcohd]

Okay so this one isn’t as long as my usual fics but it still holds so much fluff so I hope you enjoy!!

——

Summary: Anne and Marcy are snuggled up after a long day, and in the moment, Anne remembers something about Marcy and uses the closeness to her advantage.

Fandom: Amphibia

Pairing: Marcanne (more romantic than platonic with Anne pining again)

Features: None

Word Count: 929

Warnings: This is a tickle fic! If that’s not your thing, just keep scrolling.

—————————————————————

“Marcy, you’re squishing my arm.”

“Mmh, deal with it.”

Anne looked down at the smaller teen in her arms, unable to hide the smile on her face. The two had dealt with a lot that day, only just managing to get some time to rest and choosing to snuggle up in Marcy’s room. Anne had always been one for hugs and cuddles, but with Marcy, it was always special. At least, that’s how she felt about it.

Only problem this time was that she was starting to lose feeling in the arm that was stuck under Marcy’s shoulder.

“Mar-Mar, it’s going numb.” She complained, trying to worm it out from under the other teen. In response, Marcy put more weight on Anne’s arm, effectively trapping it between her and the mattress.

“Suffer.” Marcy teased, sticking her tongue out playfully. Anne gasped in response, though it was purely to be over-dramatic.

“Marcy!” She whined, her words holding no true malice against her friend. She still tried to pull her arm out, even putting her free hand on Marcy’s side to try and roll her off. The second she put pressure on her, Marcy squeaked and flinched away from Anne’s hand, causing the teen to stop. The two locked eyes for a moment, Marcy’s face turning pink while Anne had to take a moment and process what she heard.

“Marcy, did you just-?”

“I’m not!” Marcy blurted before Anne could even finish speaking, which only made the teen realize what was going on. Her confused look turned to a mischievous smile, one that the raven-haired teen recognized immediately.

“Oh Maaarcy~” Anne spoke with a sing-song tone, causing Marcy’s blush to worsen. She quickly tried to scoot back, only for Anne to pull her close and use both arms to trap her in a hug. Fingers wiggled against Marcy’s exposed side, earning a squeal and bubbly giggles in response.

“Ahahanne!” She sputtered, kicking lightly as she tried to push herself away. The tickles made her unable to properly focus, meaning she wasn’t able to even budge from Anne’s grip. Anne couldn’t hide the grin on her own face as she spidered her hand up and down Marcy’s side, occasionally squeezing her hips and earning high-pitched squeaks in response.

“Aww, you’re like a little squeaky toy!” Anne cooed, which caused Marcy’s ears to go red. She shook her head frantically, eyes shut as a ticklish grin spread across her face.

“I’m nohohohot!” She squealed, a sudden change in her pitch only affirming Anne’s statement. Anne felt her heart skip a beat at the sound, working her hands up to Marcy’s ribs and causing an increase in her laughter. The raven-haired teen buried her face in Anne’s chest, which caused a blush to spread on the other teen’s face in surprise.

“Wow, you’re a lot more ticklish than I remember, Marbles.” She commented, kneading her fingers over and in between the spaces in her friend’s ribs. The sweet, bubbly giggles that came in response had Anne’s heart fluttering, but she ended up distracted by something else. Marcy was hardly struggling, save for her legs kicking beneath the blankets, and her hands were just gripping onto Anne’s shoulders. She wasn’t stopping her at all.

“Aww, are you having fun, Mar-Mar?” She teased, earning a loud screech of denial from the other teen. The sudden sound caught Anne off-guard, making her stop for a moment before she collected herself and increased the tickling tenfold.

“Nooohohoho ANNE-!” Marcy tossed her head back in a loud, hitch-pitched squeal followed by cackling, her legs kicking madly but still not putting up a fight. Anne noticed it clear as day, continuing to spider her hands over her friends’ ribs.

“You are!” She exclaimed, grinning from ear-to-ear. “That’s so cute!” Marcy’s blush had gone red enough to rival the suit she had worn back in Wartwood, and worrying that she might burst if she kept up, Anne pulled her hands away and allowed her friend to breathe.

“You okay?” Anne asked, tilting her head slightly as Marcy collected herself. The other teen nodded, though she was still panting for a few seconds afterward.

“Yeheah.” She managed, a few giggles lingering in her voice. Her face was still red, though it seemed less from being tickled silly and more from being found out by her best friend. She was unable to meet Anne’s gaze, and it didn’t take a genius mind like hers to figure out why.

“Hey,” Anne spoke, keeping her tone soft, “your secret’s safe with me, okay?” Marcy let out a small squeak, but managed to look up at her friend and nodded with a small smile.

“Thanks, Anna-banana.” She muttered, moving her hands off of Anne’s shoulders and wrapping them around her in a hug. Anne felt her own face heat up at the action, but she was quick to return the hug, smiling happily as the two lay in silence.

“Oh, but you should know,” Anne piped up after a second, the mischievous tone returning to her voice, “I will be using this against you.” Marcy hardly had time to process the words before hands were back at her sides, kneading and tickling away. She squealed and clung onto Anne in response, bright laughter soon filling the room. Anne smiled at the sound, finding it like music to her ears as she playfully tickled her friend silly.

Not that Marcy minded, but she knew now that any cuddles Anne offered could very well be a trap.

A sweet, lovable trap that she’d happily fall for every time.

#amphibia #prompted work #tickle fic #amphibia anne #amphibia marcy #marclee #marcy wu #anne boonchuy #marcanne #annarcy

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writingstarling · 3 years

Text

Comfort in You

Adrien needed to get out. He curled deeper into himself as the walls chased down to cage him like a determined hunter.

It was a trick of the mind, he knew. He knew his room was spacious enough to support a relatively large apartment. That it would be impossible for him to be closed in.

He knew. But his brain couldn’t process that.

Today wasn’t what Adrien would call a good day—and he certainly had better. Just thinking of it sent him into a spiral of his own thoughts.

The air in his room were lego blocks he's forced to inhale. Smothering his nostrils in full force. And was it just him or was the ground starting to sway?

“Breathe,” a voice brought him back to reality. Adrien didn’t even notice he was holding his breath.

He had to calm down. Gain his head back.

Breathe, Agreste. Just like the article said, 4 7 8. Inhale through the nose for 4. Hold it for 7. Exhale through the mouth for 8, Adrien did as so.

You’re alright, you’re okay. Just calm down and you can get out of here!

Somehow he had managed. His surroundings were clearing up. The walls didn’t look like they were about to collapse on him anymore. The air filtering through his nostrils lightened in weight.

He was fine.

“Fine” was an overstatement really. He was far from it as it is.

But in his situation and for argument’s sake, “fine” would fit in nicely.

Exhaling one last shaky breath, Adrien fixed eye contact with his furry companion and smiled.

“Thanks, Plagg. I needed that.”

The black cat rubbed his cheek against his chosen’s. Not for long though. Despite appearances, Plagg had a reputation to keep. He couldn’t let Tikki make fun of him!

Plagg did loops in the air before favouring a spot in front of his chosen. His flipper like hands poised on his waist and a sly smirk played on his lips.

“So, you ready to break out of this place?”

Adrien mirrored his smirk with a fresh new glint in his eyes, “Plagg, claws out!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Life had been considerably unpredictable for Marinette. With her secret life as a superhero and the sudden debut of a supposed supervillain—or magical terrorist with the ability to grant people magical powers through the aid of butterflies, Marinette had thought that she was beginning to gain the capability to be unfazed by the unexpected. That with all the bizzare events in her life she became acquainted with it.

Apparently she was wrong.

Never had she expected for a certain cat—or perhaps Chat to be perched on her veranda. It rattled her at first. Chat’s last visit had been... interesting, to put it nicely. It wasn’t his fault per se, nevertheless the escalating events left a bad taste in her father regarding the cat themed hero. The bad blood died down, but finding the very person that broke your daughter’s heart on your balcony would certainly summon a very irresistible impulse to jettison him; and Marinette really didn’t want to explain to Paris why one of their heroes managed to become roadkill near her bakery (the suit would probably protect him, but Marinette did not want to take that chance).

That put aside, Marinette shuffled under her sole protector from peering—or in this case, Chat Noir’s eyes. A hand stationed at her trapdoor as her eyes spied on her partner.

His back faced her as he surveyed the city; his cat ears were flat on his tousled gold locks while he hummed a song Marinette became familliar with as “Little Cat on The Roof”. Her lips twitched into a knowing frown.

Being partners for so long they were bound to notice habits the other owned. At the moment, it was Chat’s occasional croons. Marinette recognised the song as Chat's solace. A safe haven achieved by focusing on the assortment of melodies the song offered. She came to the conclusion that her kitty was distressed; presumably due to family circumstances.

Marinette weighted her odds. It didn’t seem like Chat had noticed her yet—which was good. She hadn’t known what action to take. On the one hand, it would be wise to not nose around and let him solve it in his own time. But on the other hand, seeing him lack his usual jubilant and bright attitude sent a jab to her heart.

She wanted to help. To be of service to him like the terrible jokes and over the top shenanigans he did for her. No matter how stubborn she was to clung to her sour mood, he would do almost everything that came to mind to alleviate her spirits. She wanted to do the same for him.

“Marinette?”

The mentioned girl tensed before sighing internally. She knew she was bound to be spotted (HA!) somehow, though she did wish it would be from her own volition rather than a slip aided by Chat’s observation skills. Marinette didn’t loiter on that thought longer and pulled herself up. Red bloomed on her cheeks as the crisp autumn air caressed her skin while embarrassment added an even darker shade of red.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to spy,” she found great interest in the floor as her fingers busied themselves by connecting and disconnecting themselves, stealing peeks as she did.

She expected, hoped, for him to take the chance to chaff her of having an infatuation on him or alleging her of being stunted by his self-proclaimed dashing looks (Marinette has thrown herself into a spiral of denial), albeit begrudgingly. She had, because if he did—there lied a glimmer of hope that it would be easier to buoy her partner. Chat, however, had other plans in mind.

Chat offered her a smile. Impeccably centered and hollow like a well crafted porcelain doll, “It’s okay, it was rude of me to steal your balcony.”

Internally Marinette cringed at the sight. Her stomach wrapped itself in knots of discomfort. It reminded her of the smile Adrien would plaster whenever Chloe or Lila claimed possession of him. That night Marinette vowed that she would never let that smile abide on either boys ever again.

“It’s all right,” she spoke as her feet planted herself next to him.

A pregnant pause held them hostage. Both fearful of breaking the fragile semblance of peace between them despite the mutually felt inquietude.

“So,” Marinette threaded with rightfully earned prudence. Voice soft and light like footsteps on thin ice.

“...So...”

“I have some croissants.”

Finally a piece of her kitty came to light in the form of a grin on his lips and a glint in his eyes.

“You would indulge this poor stray to the finest pastries in the world? Truly, you are the most a-meow-zing purr-incess in the world!”

Marinette fought the giggle bubbling in her throat with no success before sending him a playful glare coupled by a smirk that flourished nothing but friskiness, “Careful now, those awful puns might just cost you.”

Chat’s hand sought his heart above the magical leather suit as an overly inflated gasp found freedom from his peach pink lips.

“How could you Purr-incess! My puns are widely ad-mew-tted to be fur-ry paw-esome,” he retaliated, voice brimmed with feigned smugness.

Snacks and chagrins were soon forgotten as they fell into an easy rhythm of banter. Jabs aimed to Chat’s puns would immediately be reciprocated with a flimsy defense along with an additional pun. Each one personally designed to perturb her further into submission. But despite it, Marinette couldn’t brush away the warmth buzzing through her entire body as they went back and forth. The once brisk air nipping at her skin replaced by a fervour akin to a hug from a dear friend.

After a particularly long laughter from both parties as Chat had finally managed to delivered a humorous pun - “EXCUSE mew Purr-incess, my puns are always funny!” - they settled in another lapse of silence. Consisted of feather lightness and melodic sweetness.

The city was exceptionally beautiful, they had agreed. Perhaps it was due to the occurrence of a full moon, offering the city a better lighting to its beauty; perhaps it was the fiery orange lining the streets with its playful gradient; or perhaps the most immediately discarded thought in their heads, the company they had.

It was a territory they never dared to venture. A land littered with minefields yet to be discovered, yet to explode with much more uncertainty and a set of emotions they were far too fearful to label. Because trying to label the unknown might shatter the bits of understanding of their emotions they barely possessed. Putting the hesitantly glued pieces into shambles; and as a teenager finding their place in the world, it was a risk they were walking eggshells on.

Neither allowed themselves to loiter on the thought longer than a second.

“I, I should get going.” Perhaps it was her imagination, perhaps it was reality how Chat’s ears drooped as he spoke.

“Uh, yeah, it's getting late...”

Chat took the initiative to climb the rails of her balcony, hunched and ready to set off. Baton in hand and his leather-covered thumb hovering over the button to extend it the moment he leaps.

Swivelling his head to face the pig-tailed girl, he gave her a smile, genuine and sincere. “Thanks Marinette, I’ll see you next time.”

For reasons unkown to Marinette herself, a giggle burst forth from her throat. Tickling the air around them with her bubbly laughter. All at once, the air felt warmer to Chat Noir.

“Sure thing, you silly cat.”

Marinette had expected for Chat Noir to make his way. However, still he was in his previous position, unmoving. Marinette was one breath away from uttering her worries when Chat Noir’s voice cut through the air in slight whispers timid and uncharacteristic.

“Can I,” he paused for a minute, but persevered nonetheless, “can I come here again?”

The question sounded child-like in Marinette’s ears. Like a shy little kid trying to make friends while shouldering a large fear of rejection. He sounded so small, so vulnerable.

Marinette took a breath to ease the tenseness she felt from Chat’s question. She needed to deliver an answer appropriate from her words down to her tone in order to fully put Chat at ease.

Gentle and fluffy, sweeter than all the candies in the world with a tone of loveliness, she spoke. “You’re always welcomed here, Chat.”

A weight could visibly be seen lifted off Chat’s shoulders. Shoulders once guarded and fearful of rejection came to relax for the first time that night. With a nod, Chat finally made his way back to his house.

The journey was something he didn’t desire, but he can’t impose Marinette with his overdue stay. At the very least, he came back with a new feeling better than anything he had in a long time. A feeling of warmth buzzing in his heart. Perhaps, he’s finally starting to remember the feeling of home again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

HAHAHAHA SO-

I uh, I forgot about this thing’s existence and neglected it for 2 years...

Well so that’s also why the writing style is a bit screwed up but I tried and honestly I was too lazy to rewrite the whole thing so you can have this mess instead ❤️.

#miraculous chat noir #miraculous ladybug #miraculous #miraculous marinette #marinette dupain cheng #adrien x marinette #ml marinette #mlb #ml adrien #marichat #fanfic #fanfiction #chat noir #adrien agreste #miraculous adrien #mlb fanfic

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wrenhyperfixates · 4 years

Text

It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas

Pairing: Loki x reader Summary: It’s the Christmas season and Loki still has much to learn. Thankfully, he has his favorite little mortal to teach him all about it. Warnings: just straight fluff A/N: Alright, it’s December, and you know what that means: time for Christmas fics! Hope you enjoy my first installment for the holiday season. Happy reading folks :)

Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiant @lunarmoon8 @twhiddlestonsstuff @lokistan @thelokiimaginechroniclesficrecs

Disclaimer: Gif not mine

It was bizarre, thought Loki, how seemingly overnight the world was lit up with red and green everything. Lights, wreaths, trees, inflatable decorations; you name it, and Loki could spot it from any corner in NYC. Everyone he passed seemed to be filled with joy, ready to start singing at any second. It was disconcerting, to say the least. Normally, people would give him the side-eye, but lately they passed by with a quick nod or wave. Loki doubted it had little to do with him and much more to do with the Christmas spirit floating in the air.

Ah, Christmas. He knew a decent amount about it, but had never paid too much mind to it. After all, it wasn’t like he ever really planned on living on Midgard. It was just the way things worked out. Now he wished he’d taken a bit more of an interest, for this fat, bearded, old man in a red suit made very little sense to him. And yet, he was everywhere this time of year. Though he could have asked any one of the Avengers about it, he refused to risk being teased. It should be easy enough to learn about if he truly desired to.

Loki marveled at the world in a sort of confused awe as he walked back to the Tower. This time of the year on Midgard, while so disagreeable to many, was perfectly fine with him. The bitter cold of the city at wintertime barely even felt like a summer breeze to him. One of the perks of being a perpetually cold frost giant, he supposed, was that you didn’t notice the freezing temperatures. As for those who did, well, he didn’t get why those silly little mortals didn’t just go somewhere warmer. You’d explained to him, once, that not everyone could afford to just pack up and move as they could on Asgard. A terrible shame, he thought, and he wished that he could do something to help, not that he would ever admit it. Feeling particularly generous, he dropped a one hundred-dollar bill in one of those collection bins that always popped up this time of year. It was guarded by yet another one of those strange, bearded men ringing a bell.

Hugging his so dark-green-it-was-almost-black peacoat to him, he rounded the final corner to get back home. Much like his gloves, it was more for style than anything else. Besides, no need to draw more attention to himself by dressing too lightly in the winter weather. Taking one last glance at the world around him, Loki pushed through the doors of the Avengers Tower.

“What in the Nine?” he sputtered as he was hit with a mouthful of glitter.

“Sorry, Mr. Loki,” Peter apologized. “We’re just decorating for Christmas.”

“By throwing glitter around?”

“Yeah. Why not? It’s Christmas, everything is glittery,” he said with a shrug.

“That, I can tell you,” Loki replied, patting Peter’s shoulder as he passed, “is absolutely true.”

All his other teammates seemed to be as excited about decorating as Peter was, though no one else was just haphazardly throwing that infernal sparkly dust. No, they were all using their special talents to hang garlands up from high balconies and banisters. Large ornaments and snowflakes were hanging from the ceiling. Every floor that Loki walked to was filled with merriment and yet more Christmas adornments. How they were put up so fast, the trickster god had no idea.

The common room was, much to his surprise, the least decorated place in the Tower so far. The team must have been saving this room for last, perhaps to do all together. Loki would have been upset that he wasn’t invited, but he was sure it was mentioned in one of those email blasts he always ignored. Now that he thought of it, he did remember seeing it in something that he skimmed. Regardless, this was a nice break from the hubbub in the rest of his home at the moment. In this room, there was only a tree put up and his angel working on prepping it. You.

“It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas,” you sang to the music you had blasting through the room, unaware of Loki’s presence. “Everywhere you go.”

He watched in wonder as you twirled about the floor, taking out ornaments and other assorted trimmings for the tree. You grabbed a silver and gold garland and began the tedious process of wrapping it around the artificial branches, still belting your heart out. Though Loki was unfamiliar with the words, he caught on to the tune and began humming along, startling you ever so slightly. He walked up to you and grabbed your hand, joining in your spinning and dancing. Prancing around the room with you, Loki was filled with unbridled joy, and he thought he might be beginning to understand the reason for all the joy the season brings.

As you sang the final notes, you and the God of Mischief collapsed onto the couch amidst the boxes of Christmas knick-knacks, laughing your heads off. When you tried to get up, Loki pulled you back down to him, starting another fit of giggles.

“And how is my little mortal today?” he asked, playfully ticking you a little.

“I’d be a lot better if you let me finish decorating,” you teased, poking his chest.

He sighed and relinquished you back to your duties, watching you walk back toward the tree. If only he had the courage to tell you how he feels, rather than just admiring you from afar. You were best friends, sure, but he longed for more. Much more.

“Loki,” you called in a sing-song voice, batting your eyes. “Can you help me, please?”

“Of course, little one.”

He helped you string the garland the rest of the way around the tree, using his magic to get even the highest boughs. You squealed in delight as you admired your work so far, throwing your arms around Loki to thank him for his help.

Soon, the rest of the team joined you and began to hang the ornaments. No one particularly cared about where they were put, just that everyone was having fun. Loki tried to stay on the outskirts of the activity, but everyone kept pulling him back in. It made him happier than he cared to admit that they all concerned themselves with him participating. That they wanted him to participate.

“What do you think, Mr. Loki? Here?” Peter questioned as he held up an ornament in a prospective spot. “Or here?”

“The first spot, I suppose.”

“No,” Thor chimed in, making Peter worried he was going to start one of their infamous sibling battles. “The second spot, for certain.”

“I guess. I still do not understand most of this ‘Christmas’ stuff, to be quite honest.”

“Well, why did you not say so, brother?”

“Yeah, we can teach you all about it,” you added, showing up beside them. Then you snapped your fingers, getting an idea. “The tree lighting is tonight! At Rockefeller Center. We should go to that!”

“That’s a perfect idea,” Peter agreed. “So it’s set then. A crash course, then a field trip to see the tree lighting!”

Loki smiled at his friends as they bustled around him, planning the rest of the day. He couldn’t wait for later, and it made the rest of the time spent decorating even more enjoyable. Between the constant singing and cracking of jokes, there was not a dull moment to be found. While it would have usually drained Loki, he felt as lively as ever. Maybe there truly was something special about the season, after all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hours later, Loki stood with his teammates as incognito as possible in Rockefeller Center. It had been agreed that they just wanted to be normal people for one, not celebrities. To keep your group warm, Loki had cast a heating enchantment that they were all more than grateful for as they waited for the tree to light. In the last minutes before it was set to shine through the night, you summarized your lessons on the holiday.

“So,” you began, “I guess it’s basically a time for love, showing others how much they mean to you. And sure, there’s all the commercial stuff about candy canes and elves and trees and Santa Claus, which is nice and all, but that’s not the real meaning. It’s about being with those you care about and spreading goodwill to all.”

Loki thought back to all the times he’d needed a little charity or a helping hand, or really just to be shown he was loved. There were certainly a plethora of scenarios to pick from in his life. A whole season to spread cheer and show everyone things are not as hopeless as they seem sounded like a splendid idea indeed.

“I quite like the sound of that,” he said with a smile. As you looked back at him, an equally warm glow adorning your features, Loki realized there was one person he loved more than anyone else. With a sudden burst of confidence, he went to tell you exactly how he felt. “I must say this now, I-”

He was cut off as the crowd began the countdown. You gave him an apologetic smile as the both of you joined in. Upon reaching the last number, the tree lit up, filling Loki with a warm, fuzzy feeling in his chest. That was only accentuated when you grabbed his hand, bursting with excitement and awe. Once the cheering went down, and your group began to depart, you remembered Loki had been about to say something to you.

“What was it that you wanted to tell me before?” you asked. “Before the countdown.”

“Oh,” he said, clearing his throat. He’d already lost his nerve. “It was nothing urgent. I hardly even remember now. Another time, perhaps.”

“Well, that’s ok,” you replied, though you sounded a little disappointed. “Whenever you remember is fine.”

Back at the Tower, everyone said goodnight and parted ways to go to bed, exhausted from the busy day. In the hall between your rooms, you and Loki stopped to say goodnight one final time. You paused mid-sentence, spying something green hanging from the ceiling above you. Loki followed your gaze upward and immediately went a shade of red that put Rudolph’s nose to shame. Even before all your lessons from the day, he knew mistletoe when he saw it. And, of course, the tradition that went with it.

He heard snickering from around the corner and spotted Peter and Thor waiting for one of you to make your move. Undoubtedly, they'd fabricated the situation to try to get you together faster than you were going by yourselves. To be fair, at said pace, you’d never be together.

“Just kiss already!” Thor shouted before ducking away to give you some privacy.

“Pardon my brother,” Loki said self-consciously. “If you do not wish to, there is no law saying-”

He was cut off for the second time that night. This time, however, it was by something much more pleasurable. You had stood up on your tip toes and placed a kiss to his cheek, too sheepish to do much else.

“Night, Loki,” you said to the still stunned god. “Talk tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow indeed, my little mortal,” he said, pulling you in for another kiss, this time on the lips.

Oh yes, it was decided. This season was magical.

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drawlfoy · 4 years

Text

The Wonders of Ohio P.6

masterlist (catch up on parts 1-5 here!!)

request guidelines

pairing: draco x reader

request: my original idea :))

summary: y/n’s senior year was going to be great, but her British exchange student is a little weird. this is NOT a non-magic AU. draco’s still a wizard in this fsjifkszfjkd

warnings: language, fainting, bad driving, mentions of drinking and drug use

a/n: eeee this is such a fun bit to write. thank you all so much for being there for me. this is definitely one of my favorite fics i’ve written since it gives me so much creative liberty and the fact that i get feedback and readers for it...just warms my heart. if you’re reading this: thank you so, so much for sticking around. i might come around with more oneshots soon. anyways i hope you enjoy the initial descent into the real real plot. also fluff will be coming soon i promise but i wasn’t lying when i said this was slowburn

tags tags tags @gruffle1 @missmulti @cleopatera @hahaboop @accio-rogers @geeksareunique @eltanin-malfoy @war-sword @cams-lynn @itsivyberry @ayo-cowbelly @nerd-domland @yesnerdsblog @shizarianathania @evanstanfanatic @strawberriesonsummer @hariosborn @night-ving @icintliviinyiniilsiji @erisdogwood @loveissupernatural

word count: 3.4k

song recs:

a pearl -- mitski

movement -- hozier

revival -- deerhunter

Draco was crying.

Or, at least, someone was. The gasps coming from just a wall away were apparent, but Y/N could hear a voice that didn’t quite sound like Draco--which had to be a trick of the mind, because there could be no one in there but him.

She rapped on the door against her better judgement to be met with a flurry of movement--fabric rustling, and a soft pop that echoed through the air.

“Draco? Are you alright in there?”

Y/N found herself wishing that he wouldn’t open the door. After the Homecoming ask, the last thing she wanted was to see his stupid pretty face again, but she was a good host sister. Emphasis on sister.

To her shock, the door swung open. Just a few inches, just enough for her to see the pile of black shredded paper in the middle of his room and a drained looking Draco glaring back at her.

“Can I help you?” His once pristine white shirt was gray in some places, like he had rubbed ashes on it.

“I just thought--did you burn something?”

“No. What is it?”

She looked at him a bit closer. His eyes didn’t look red rimmed with the dead giveaway of a crying session, but they looked close. The furrow in his brow was from worry instead of his usual sternness and he kept nervously pulling down at his left sleeve.

Draco wasn’t crying, but he was about to.

“I…” There was something deeply unsettling about seeing Draco so uncollected and fidgety--almost like seeing a fish out of water or an American conservative with an adequate understanding of class struggles.The air was charged with something yet again, so much so that Y/N could feel the hair on her arms stand up. She decided to avoid damaging his masculinity any further. “Nothing. It just smelled a little like smoke. I wanted to make sure you weren’t burning a candle or anything. You know how my mom is about that.”

He continued to stare at her.

“Would you like me to leave you alone?”

“Please.”

Well, that was embarrassing thought Y/N as she made her way back down the hall and to her backpack. I get rejected twice in one day. Smooth.

The days following were profoundly more uncomfortable. Breakfasts became uncomfortably akin to the Silent Game and Draco stopped coming out for tea in the evenings. The drives to and from school were decorated only by occasional bits of small talks or grumbles of exams. In short, Y/N knew that she had overstepped a boundary and Draco was pulling back.

School had finally become crazy. Y/N’s life became so entrenched with letters of recommendation and 200 word supplements that the Draco shaped hole in her life was bearable. After all, she was fine before he came, and she was fine now. She’d been silly, allowing herself to fantasize about a kid with some serious trauma and family issues that clearly had personal things that handle before he thought about getting all cozy with someone who was not in the slightest compatible with him. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

oOo

If someone turned a glass of whole milk into a human, that person would be Chad. He was the poster child of an “American” boy--tall, warm blonde hair, slightly tanned skin, and cornflower blue eyes.

But his personality? Not so much.

“My beloved husband!” Y/N called out as she saw him speaking to her mother in the foyer while Draco glowered in the corner. She bounded down the stairs in record time, leaping into his arms as her strappy heels swung from her hands. He smelled of cotton and laundry detergent.

“Hey nerd,” he said, swinging her around in a circle before setting her down. “Did you finish the Econ homework? I was hoping I could take a picture before I leave…”

Y/N drew back to smack him on the shoulder. “You disgust me.”

“You abuse me.”

“And I’ll do it again,” said Y/N. She had forgotten how funny he was.

“Oh, you two,” Mrs. Y/L/N cut in, stepping between the two and pressing the boutonnière into Y/N’s hands. “Always bickering like a married couple.”

Lizzy snorted from the top of the stairs where she was struggling to stuff a light jacket into her purse. “Hot take.”

“Hold still,” commanded Y/N, holding the pin and attempting to attach it to his lapel. “I’m literally going to accidentally stab you. Cut it out.”

He made a face down at her. “Do it. You won’t.”

“Oh? I won’t?”

“Y/N,” Mrs. Y/L/N’s exasperated voice warned.

“I’ll refrain, but only because the rug we’re standing on was my Grandmother’s,” Y/N said to him, her voice dripping with sweetness. “Consider yourself lucky that you’re not on the tile.”

“I’ve never been more thankful that my late grandmother-in-law had such impeccable taste.”

“Suck up.”

“Oh, because you’re such a rebel.”

“It’s called motivation!”

“Honey, I want a divor-”

“For Christ’s sake, stop flirting or I’m going to puke,” a cool voice cut in. The group turned to see Sylvia standing in the doorway, clad in a flowing black dress that just barely ghosted over the top of the floor.

“You look radiant, darling,” Mrs. Y/L/N said.

“And we weren’t flirting,” said Y/N.

Sylvia sent her a little wink before walking to sit down on the couch across from Draco, who was currently perched cross legged and looking profoundly uncomfortable.

Sylvia, Lizzy, and their dates all opted to take Lizzy’s car to the city while Chad, Y/N, and Draco took Chad’s. The plan was to drop Draco off at the school with ample time to prepare him for the uniquely traumatic experience that was ASB sanctioned after school events, and to the plan they stuck.

“Yeah, go ahead and treat me like your chauffeur, “ scoffed Chad as Y/N slid into the backseat next to Draco. The sports car was surprisingly narrow with hardly any space between them. If she wanted to, she could easily rest her thigh against his.

“It’s called being polite, dear,” said Y/N, flicking the back of his head before turning to face Draco. “You’re really gonna commit to this? Major props, but, like...you really don’t have to go to this if you don’t want to. You can even stay home. I know how to sneak you back in.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “I’m here for the American experience, right?”

“Hate to break it to you, but there is no uniform American experience. It’s all personalized, and I don’t know if you want yours to be seasoned with 14 year olds T-posing in a circle to...I don’t even know. Chad, what kind of music do they play at those places?”

“Fuck if I know. I don’t go to them either.”

“It’s fine. I told Heather I’d be there.”

“Ooookay, whatever you say,” Y/N said.

They rode in silence for a few more beats. The wind outside was uncharacteristically strong for an early October day, and it looked like a storm was brewing. In their rush to get to the dance on time, they had neglected to take precaution against the wind and ran outside to Chad’s car without a second thought. Draco’s suit, while posh and put together, had clearly bore the brunt of this choice. His tie had become slightly rumpled and his hair mussed, a look that was all types of wrong on him.

“Draco?” she asked. He snapped to attention. “Your tie is all undone. Can I…?” Y/N motioned to his neck.

Wide-eyed and frozen, he met her with, “er...sure.”

Y/N leaned forward, trying to think past how her thighs were just barely touching his. Her corsage (a tasteful red, thank you very much) bumped against his chest, flattening a bit. She wasn’t very familiar with ties--she’d never had to be in her past experiences--but whatever his was made of, it was expensive. The fabric felt silky and impossibly smooth in her hand as she carefully untied it.

Chad took a sharp turn into the school drop off lot, prompting Y/N to nearly topple into Draco’s chest. His arms shot out to steady her and retracted so quickly that she was left wondering if she imagined the whole ordeal.

“So it’s true,” said Chad from the front. “Nerds do have bad upper body strength.”

“Shut up,” she responded. Her cheeks felt unbearably hot as she tried her best to focus on tightening Draco’s tie and ignore the fact that she was close enough to smell his cologne--a soft pine, she observed--and feel the shadow of his breath on her face. His hands were clasped together lap, tight enough to turn the knuckles white.

It was an odd feeling, getting butterflies in her stomach while she was touching a boy that wasn’t her date as Chad careened towards a parking spot and pulled in so violently that Y/N almost went sprawling into Draco again. She looked up at him, getting ready to crack a joke about the absurdity of the situation or the questionable driving; instead, she found herself staring up into his eyes.

His normally pale eyes looked darker than usual--his pupils were insanely dilated--but that was because it was dark in the car. Obviously. Out of the corner of her eye, Y/N could see his chest rising and falling with an urgency that she hadn’t noticed before.

“Do you want me to uh..fix your...your hair, too?” Y/N said, mentally cringing at how she stumbled over the sentence. To be fair, his hair was ruffled and out of place. It wasn’t like she was making an excuse to touch it or anything.

To that, Draco jerked away from her, his back brushing up against the opposite car door. “No. No, it’s ok. I’ll fix it myself.”

Y/N was sure that her face was tomato red.

“Alright buckaroo,” Chad said from the front, his nonchalant demeanor never more appreciated. “Your hot date is here. Get out of my car. We have a busy day of antiquing ahead.”

Any semblance of casualness left Draco’s body as his eyes widened. “Antiquing?”

“Yeah, remember the place I took you to right after you came here?” asked Y/N.

“Er...don’t you have anything better to do?”

“Excuse me?” She sat up straight so quickly that she felt her hair come slightly undone at the nape of her neck. “That’s rich, coming from the kid going to a school dance as a senior.”

“It’s probably not going to even be open. It’ll be late by the time dinner’s over,” he said.

“Since when do you care? Honestly, quit acting weird,” Y/N responded, scootching away from him as he made no effort to get out of the car.

“I’m not--it’s--erm, nevermind, forget about it.” He cleared his throat, straightened his tie, and brushed off his lapels. “Heather must be waiting for me. Goodbye.”

After a little struggle, Draco managed to best the slightly confusing door handle of Chad’s car and was out the door. Y/N slid across the seat and out with him, shutting the door and grabbing the handle for the passenger side.

“Y/N?” Draco’s voice called before she had the chance to fully get in and tell Chad to book it.

“What’s up?”

He took a few steps forward, pausing just a couple feet away from her. His eyes were cast to the rain puddle ridden cement. “Promise me you won’t do anything stupid, okay?”

“I should be telling you that, king,” Y/N quipped. “Your first real American dance. If you go to any after parties, make sure to watch your drink. Don’t take any substances from strangers--or, anyone, really--”

“Y/N, he’s not a chick.” Chad, his hands still perched on the steering wheel, turned to peer out at her. “He’ll be fine. I think they have beer in Britain.”

“Well, whatever. Have Heather text me if I need to pick you up anywhere. And don’t get in any cars with someone who’s been drinking!”

“Y/N!”

“Ok, ok, I’m coming.” She slid into the car, turning one last time to say bye. Draco was already gone. “Only if I drive.”

oOo

“So Heather and Draco, huh?”

Y/N scowled at Lizzy as she speared a piece of her salad particularly viciously. “I don’t know if it’s like that. I think he’s just being polite, or whatever. I think British people are just like that.”

“Why are we even talking about that boy?” Chad asked. “He’s got that whole Timothée Chalamet dying Victorian toddler aesthetic if Timothée was blonde and had a perpetual stick up his ass.”

“In a hot way, though,” said Lizzy, her eyebrows wiggling. Jonathan scowled at her side. “Oh, don’t be so jealous. As if I’d ever go for a kid who doesn’t even know what Snapchat is.”

“I don’t understand what Heather sees in him,” Chad continued, his fettuccine plate long forgotten. “He’s got the personality of a wet rag, and she’s so bubbly and...I don’t even know. Do you guys get what I mean?”

“Draco’s got personality,” said Y/N.

“Not like Heather.”

“It’s not his fault he’s reserved. He’s actually really funny.”

“And that’s what I like to call rose-tinted glasses,” Chad said, gently poking her cheek.

“Hey! I’m the one who lives with him.”

“Whatever. Let’s just call for the bill. I’m not hungry anymore.” Chad folded up his napkin, placing it on top of the tablecloth and ignoring Y/N’s protest as he got out his wallet and placed a credit card on the table. “It’s on me, guys. You know how my parents are. They’re just happy that we’re all getting together again instead of holing up in our rooms.”

“Thank god junior year is over,” Sylvia added. “That’s really kind of you. At least let me get the tip?”

As the group bickered over the payment options and flagged down the waiter, Y/N noticed her phone lighting up with a notification.

Heather, 6.48pm: Hey girly! Sorry to bug you on your night but Draco wanted to check in and ask where you guys are/what you’re planning on doing tonight.

“Who’s that?” Chad asked, looking down at the little paragraph in the gray message bubble.

“Just Heather. Draco wants to know what we’re doing. Probably because he’s realizing how sucky dances really are and is about to beg us to come pick him up.”

He snorted. “Yeah. Poor kid.”

Y/N typed out a quick “we just finished dinner and are heading to the antique place now. lmk if i need to pick him up earlier” and tucked her phone away in her purse. As much as she resented it, she couldn’t help but wish that Draco wanted to join them instead.

“Are you guys ready to beat it and hit up that antique place?” Marvin, Sylvia’s date, asked. She rolled her eyes and sent him a lazy smile.

“You sound like a dad.”

“Off like a herd of turtles, baby,” Y/N offered, gathering her things as they made their way out the restaurant door. “Not gonna lie, this place doesn’t show up on Google Maps or anything. I think I know how to get there but none of you guys are allowed to make fun of me if I take too many wrong turns.”

“No promises,” said Chad, winking down at her and giving her shoulder a little squeeze.

As they walked, it became profoundly obvious that Chad and Y/N were the only two who weren’t officially an item. Lizzy and Jonathon were walking hand in hand while Sylvia and Marvin whispered in each others’ ears when they had to wait for crosswalk signals. While she had great chemistry with Chad, nothing ever felt real with him. It always felt like an act.

Perhaps the tension between them was because of that one time they kissed and never talked about it again in freshman year after a particularly nerve wracking competitive math round before she quit--something that she wasn’t exactly going to shout off the rooftops for the masses to hear. Or maybe because he pushed her away right after and said it was a mistake.

Whatever it was, Y/N and Chad were decidedly not romantically involved. She had been shocked when he’d even bothered asking her for the night. Granted, they were always pals and it shouldn’t have been awkward, but drawing the comparisons between her and the other girls was making the evening very uncomfy. Y/N couldn’t help but pray that Chad was going to be the one to break the ice.

“Where the fuck is this place?” he finally said, much to Y/N’s glee. His grace and manners were absolutely unparalleled. “It’s cold and I’m sure it’s going to start raining again.”

“It should be just a few more blocks and then to the right,” she responded. “Sorry. It’s cool as fuck, though. I promise it’s worth it.”

“This is just her ploy to lure us all away from civilization to off us,” Sylvia said, turning around from a few feet in front of them to raise her eyebrows at Y/N. “Eliminate the competition before college apps even begin. I’m impressed, honestly.”

“Now you’ve gone and ruined it all,” she fired back. “Thanks, Vy.”

She was relieved to see that the antique store couldn’t be missed, even if she tried. The sign, a worn and friendly gold, was illuminated by large lights. The words “My Grandfather’s Attic” had never looked more welcoming as Sylvia gripped the door and ushered them inside.

The moment Y/N stepped inside, something felt...different, kind of like the hair-raising feeling she got when she was around Draco. The electricity in the air she felt with him could easily be explained away by the fact that he was, for lack of a better term, the most stunning person she’d ever seen, but perhaps she was slowly getting over him. Perhaps…

She turned to see Chad, his honey blonde hair spilling over his forehead as he focused on a basket of vintage buttons that seemed to glimmer in the light. The furrow in his brow--the same one that she’d been so familiar with after seeing him solve countless math problems--appeared as he examined the basket, turning a red button around in his fingers, soft and and sprinkled with writing calluses.

Maybe it had been Chad all along. Maybe Draco was just a detour.

Before she did anything she regretted, Y/N turned and made her way back into the store. The set up was the same as she remembered--interesting and foreign objects hanging from the walls, ceilings, and congregating in baskets and overflowing shelves. She didn’t even realize that she had migrated over to the opposite side of the room until she felt the solid, cool wood of the black box from her dreams pressed into her hand as she turned it over and traced the strange white sign that was etched into the front.

“Y/N!”

The sound snapped her out of her trance to see...Heather and Draco? He was jogging towards her despite the fact that he was wearing a full suit. Y/N made an absent note to make fun of him later.

“Why are you--”

“Put that down!” He stopped a few paces away, his eyes darting around the store at a frantic pace. “We need to leave.”

“Why? Honestly, if you wanted me to pick you up, all you had to do was…” She had to take a breath to steady herself. Her body felt like it was filled with static. “All you had to do was ask.”

“That’s not...ok, just put it down,” he commanded. “Please. Just put the box down. We need to go home.”

“No! This is my last homecoming. I’m sorry your experience wasn’t great, but I don’t...I don’t, uh, appreciate…” The lightheadedness hit, so suddenly that she almost fell.

“Fuck, are you okay?” Draco was right in front of her in an instant, his eyes scanning her face.

“I feel...” She took a shaky breath. “I feel...starry?”

The last thing she remembered was Draco trying to tug the box out of her grip, his other hand warm on her shoulder.

And then everything went black.

final a/n: so draco got a howler and some wack stuff happened, huh? tell me what you think.

#draco x reader #draco imagine #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy imagine #draco x y/n #draco x oc #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x oc #draco #draco malfoy #draco lucius malfoy #draco x you #draco malfoy x you

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spaceorphan18 · 4 years

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Kurt Hummel Solos Ranked

Ever since I finished the Kurt Hummel Meta Series - Finding Kurt Hummel - I’ve been wanting to talk about the music a bit. Well, here we go. I have four different categories -- Solos, Duets, Small Groups Numbers, and Large Group Numbers, and I’m starting off with Solos.

Kurt didn’t have a ton of solos on the show, but that made them special when we did get one. Kurt’s solos are usually integral to his story line, and usually hold a great deal of emotion one way or an other. And while not all of them are 100% tied to his own plot - I think they all show bits and pieces of his character.

As a note - there are a few songs on here that may not initially be counted as a solo, but I’m doing so anyway -- either there’s a studio version with just his voice, or the tiny bit of someone else singing I’m kind of ignoring. For this discussion, I’m counting them as solos.

There are two songs, however, that I should mention first -- two short solos that didn’t have a studio release --

1. Pink Houses (Laryngitis, 1x18)

I still find this number quite hilarious. Kurt’s attempt at emulating his dad, and therefore singing John Mellencamp, to seem more ‘masculine’ is not only a great comedic spot, but shows us really what the opposite of who Kurt is. While, clearly, not a great song for Kurt -- we do at least get to hear Chris’s low register for once, and get a rare moment when we get to see Chris be actually comedic during a musical number -- something that didn’t happen all that often because Kurt’s musical numbers were usually serious in nature and involves a lot of crying. It’s not a great performance - but it’s a damn entertaining one.

2. Music of the Night (Choke, 3x18)

Another non-studio release for what is an extended comedic moment. Kurt’s right - his rendition of this is pretty bland, and you can tell he’s not putting forth his best effort. There’s clearly no emotional connection to the song that is a hallmark of his songs, especially his solos. That said - the scene itself is pretty entertainingly comedic -- from his ridiculous choreography, to Tina’s bored version of Christine, to the massive amount of candles on stage. The scene is a lot of fun - even if it’s not meant to be a serious performance.

So, with those out of the way....

Kurt Hummel’s Solos Ranked:

I should preface this with, these are, obviously, my own objective opinion. While I am taking into account performances and effectiveness of the song, at the end of the day, these are my own opinions, and everyone will have their own version of the list.

17. I’ll Remember (Goodbye, 3x22)

I don’t think that there are any bad Kurt solos. There are ones that I don’t think work all that well, and this is one of them. First off is the fact that I’m not a big fan of the song, originally done by Madonna. While the song does fit the moment lyrically, and I do buy Kurt singing it, the song itself isn’t that great. The performance is fine. Despite all the tears and wistful looks, it’s a bit standard of a performance that doesn’t lend itself to being all that memorable. Also, there’s the fact that this song is dedicated to all the men in the room. Ug, Glee your plot points suck sometimes.

16. Don’t Cry For Me, Argentina (Special Education, 2x09)

This is the first of a few songs on the list that are technically sung by two people, but this has a Kurt-only studio version, so it’s here as a solo. Kurt does relatively well vocally with this song. But it’s clear that it’s not his song at all. This is a Rachel song, which is made clearer as they sing it side by side as a comparison. While Kurt sings it technically and proficiently fine, he doesn’t embody the song the way Rachel does in the scene. (And that’s fine - the point is that it doesn’t fit him correctly.) Kurt is a little stiff and uncomfortable with this song, with a sense of emotion that doesn’t quite connect. And while fine for the scene that they’re doing - it lands this one low on my list.

15. I’m Still Here (Bash, 5x15)

This is Kurt’s last solo of the series, and, unfortunately, the only representative of season 5 (and 6), which is why it really pains me to put it so low on the list, but, also unfortunately, there are a lot of issues with it. First of all, at this point in the series, while old Diva Broadway numbers were his bread and butter - he had been growing past them, and while the song choice works for the story (mostly), the selection feels a little tired. Vocally, he’s proficient enough, though it lacks some of the grittiness and understanding of, say, an actual old school Broadway Diva. (I can see Rachel Berry singing this when she’s 80 a la Elaine Stritch.) The choreography is a little weird at times - but they did let Chris do the choreography of this one nearly by himself, and it shows a little.

One weird nitpick I have about this number is actually a production thing -- it’s clear that in the close ups Chris is doing better acting and giving more of an effort than he’s doing in the wide shots. It’s a weird thing to notice but between that and the tepid performance in general, it brings this one way down on the list for me.

14. Some People (Funeral, 2x21)

This one is a huge step above the others on the list, as the rest of this list is really a bunch of fantastic performances. Chris really brings it in this one (and fun fact, he helped do the choreography on this one), as Kurt’s energy is high and all of his moves here are quintessential Kurt classics. It’s like all of standard Kurt Hummel in one song, especially since it’s a classic old diva Broadway standard. While I don’t have any complaints about the performance, the reason it’s so low is for two reasons. The first one is the context -- it’s for an audition for a solo and not directly connected to any meaningful Kurt storyline. And secondly - it’s just not a favorite song of mine. But, Kurt at least gets to have a peppy and physically entertaining solo, which doesn’t happen very often, so it is worth a watch.

13. You Are The Sunshine of My Life

Honestly, the only reason this as low as it is, is because I’m not a huge fan of this song. There’s actually a lot of great things going on here. For one, this is a really sweet performance for Kurt as he sings a sentimental song for his dad. The choreography is silly, but it’s intentionally childlike as little Kurt came up with this with his dad. Kurt sounds really good when he’s in his lower register (I actually love his lower register - which isn’t complimented enough). And one thing I really like from second half of the series Kurt is that he’s less choreographed Broadway style and more reflective of the quirky weirdo that he is. And this performance is exactly that.

12. A House is Not a Home (Home, 1x16)

This is an interesting one, because there are a lot of great things going on here that bring it up the list, but a few things that very much drag it down. First of all -- it’s the first showcase in the show of something I don’t see Chris get much credit for (outside the fandom bubble). The fact that he’s able to act while sing. It’s a difficult thing that Chris does masterfully here -- it’s not easy to make a solo next to a piano visually enticing but he really sells it. Anyway - the way Kurt’s emotion bleeds through the song is perfect, it’s not too overt or too subdued. And we really feel everything Kurt is feeling in this moment. It feels real, in a way that isn’t apparent in a lot of the other characters when they sing songs (coughrachelcough). This song is a fantastic reflection of Kurt’s emotional stance, and fits into the story wonderfully.

Bringing it down... first of all, technically, Finn sings a verse of this. And while I don’t consider this at all a duet (duets, I feel, are sung together), it’s still there, and still a glaring ear-sore. (Sorry Cory.) It sticks out like a sore thumb that Finn’s voice is not suited for this material, and while I see what they were doing with the story, it’s cringey when it gets there. The other thing about this song is that it’s kind of uncomfortable to watch. Kurt sells all of his emotion, but it’s focus point is an unrequited love, and the discomfort on Finn’s face, as well as a few others, makes it not an easy watch. Still -- overall, this is a great number and a fantastic performance.

11. I’m The Greatest Star (I Am Unicorn, 3x02)

This is kind of an interesting one to talk about because there are a lot of conflicting things going on. It’s one helluva performance, it’s a terrible interpretation of the song, and it’s not a great choice of audition song for West Side Story (all of which was the point), but that doesn’t mean I don’t agree with Coach Beiste, that Kurt made the song his prison bitch. If nothing else -- this really showcases just how talented Kurt is -- not only can he act while he’s singing, he has other talents as well, such as climbing scaffolding and using sai swords. The comedic/tragic element of this song, for me, is the fact that Kurt’s trying to show off everything he’s able to do in one song -- and in effect, while being an incredible spectacle, kind of backfires for him. (If he had done this one for his NYADA audition - I would have bought Carmen Tibideaux’s remarks.) I think this is often an underrated Kurt solo due to the high level of proficiency that’s needed to pull this off -- but it’s also not the best Kurt has to offer.

10. Bring Him Home (Diva, 4x13)

This is another one of those Kurt/Rachel comparison numbers that I count as a solo because there’s Kurt-only studio version and because it’s not really sung together but side by side. What I really love about this number is that subtle delicacy that Kurt brings to the number. It’s sung with a restrained emotion that’s perfect for the number that is a pleasure to listen to when compared to the over-emoting mess that Rachel is doing next to it. The other fascinating thing I’m learning, as I do this list, is that there’s a sense of maturity about Kurt’s voice that I’m finding in the later seasons - which is really neat to listen for. My only real reason it’s as low on the list as it is - is because there’s the song holds no real weight for Kurt’s story. I kind of wish the Midnight Madness song had not been the popular number of the year thanks to Les Mis, but something more meaningful to their friendship - but ah well, for Kurt, it’s still masterfully done.

9. Le Jazz Hot (Duets, 2x04)

This is a fun number that really showcases Kurt’s talents and ability. I really love the moment at the end when he sings his entire range. Like I’m The Greatest Star and Some People, it’s a showoff number, but I think more so than those other two, Kurt really brings it extra in this one as the choreography and costume additions are incredibly inspired. It’s not his greatest vocal solo, or the most meaningful, which is why it’s a little lower on the list, but it’s quite entertaining to see Kurt push in so much on himself, especially when forced to do so by the story, and thus makes it a memorable solo.

8. I Want to Hold Your Hand (Grilled Cheesus, 2x03)

I believe with this one we’re getting into the iconic Kurt-solo territory. The show already knew that Chris was a great pretty crier, and that was used to great affect in this entire episode. The one really great thing that Kurt (and Chris in his acting) does is not over emote. He sings songs with great emotion, but it’s usually controlled and right under the surface, making it incredible compelling. (By contrast - Rachel is always over-emoting, and always giving the same kind of over emoting that feels bland the more you see it.) The fascinating thing is that Kurt draws you into his world and his pain with song, and while he’s not doing much but standing there, he is letting you get a glimpse of what is behind the guarded shield he uses so much. This is why Kurt solos are special, because they’re rare, and a rare glimpse of what’s going on in a character who blocks himself off so much from the outside world -- especially in the early years. While I just happen to like the other solos on the list more, I believe this is one of the best performances on the show.

7. Defying Gravity (Wheels, 1x09)

So. This is the last of the side-by-side comparisons that I have on the solo list. And I want to start by saying that vocally, even minus the intentionally botched note, it’s not very good. Honestly - go listen to the season 5 version, and you hear how much better a vocalist Chris became, and it’s really a treat to hear him grow into his voice. And I do think Rachel won this competition. However... there is something magical about this performance. First of all, the song is deeply resonant for Kurt (and for Chris) and that comes through clearly in the song. He embodies the emotion of the song in a way that Rachel (and I’ll argue Lea) doesn’t. The lyrics are meaningful, and are acted out superbly. And on top of that is a layer where Kurt is debating with himself as to whether or not he’s going to throw the song. The vocals might not be there, but the acting is, and the emotion is, and on that alone brings this song so high on the list. This is a character defining song if there ever was one.

6. Blackbird (Original Song, 2x16)

Do yourself a favor - go on Netflix and watch this one, the youtube version cuts off Kurt’s head, which really is a disservice to the song and the performance, but it’s the only link I could find.

First of all, I’m biased, because I really love this song. Kurt sings it beautifully, too, which helps. But really -- I think it’s an incredible story element on multiple levels. Kurt’s singing a eulogy for a dead bird, which is bizarre when written out. But this moment is perfect. It’s a moment where Kurt’s restrained emotion is channeled beautifully through song, and we see, again, an element of Kurt himself, who has been caged throughout the whole Dalton arc. So, it’s not only about the death of Pavarotti, but about the death of Kurt trying to be something he’s not - and the freedom that comes with allowing yourself to be you.

On top of that, it’s a pivotal moment in the Klaine story, where Blaine finally gets to see the raw emotion of who Kurt is, and realizes he’s in love with him. The fact that this song is so multilayered on top of a great and beautiful performance is really what makes it one of my favorites.

5. I Have Nothing (Dance With Somebody, 3x17)

This might be the most controversial choice on this list, but I’ll stand by it because it is one of my favorites. Yes, Kurt is straining to get to some of those high notes, vocally it’s a bit raw and forced. But my god, it’s one of the most stunning displays of emotion that he ever gets to do. Not only is this song about him, and the type of person he is, it’s also about love, and how Kurt expresses love.

Like so many of his best performances, there are a lot of layers going on here. Not only does it have the emotional intensity that A House is Not a Home did, but it has a razor sharp, singular focus that the other song lacks. Kurt is expressing himself, the best way that he can, to communicate to Blaine -- and the two of them have an unspoken dialogue during the song, which is really incredible. (The acting chops for both Chris and Darren here are really remarkable.) It is the most romantic performance on the list, and one of my favorite moments on the show.

4. The Boy Next Door (Choke, 3x18)

Believe it or not, this is one time I’d actually recommend the studio recording over the show performance. Despite lacking the Gold Lame Pants of Infamy, the studio version really showcases just how amazing this performance is. But anyway - unlike Carmen Tibideaux, who clearly doesn’t know our Kurt Hummel, there is nothing surface level about this performance. And unlike I’m The Greatest Star - this isn’t Kurt trying to shove everything he can do into one performance, it’s showcasing who he is as a person and a performer. Vocally, it’s fantastic, and I’m glad the later seasons allow Kurt to do more songs settled in lower registers - as that part of his vocal range is really quite beautiful. Visually, this is Kurt emulating a bit of Hugh Jackman while retaining some of his own, unique elements. This performance is truly special because it’s a time when Kurt realizes that it’s okay for him to be himself, and lets that shine through song.

3. Rose’s Turn (Laryngitis, 1x18)

Kurt’s first real big solo in the show, and it’s absolutely stunning. The fascinating thing about this one is, again, just how much is going on here. Kurt slowly gets to unravel, shaking off the expectations that he thinks society is putting on him, and blossoming into who he really is. This song is perfect for him as a character in this moment. While the vocals are a little shaky at times (I’m noticing that a lot about season 1 Kurt) the performance is not. We never really get to see Kurt be angry and gritty through song again, but I’m glad we do have this moment to show how it would go. I love everything this number chooses to be, and everything that it says about Kurt, which is why I feel it’s one of his best numbers.

2. Being Alive (Swan Song, 4x09)

There is something kind of magical about this song. And this is the reason that I find it tragic we don’t get an emotionally powerful song from Kurt after this point. (Though - after this point, we don’t get a long going individual Kurt arc either, so I suppose it makes sense.) But here’s the thing about this song... It is Kurt going inside himself, and reflecting on all the pain and heartache that his life has given him, and all the struggles he’s had in the change from child to adult, and almost unknowingly, as the song continues on, getting lost on that emotion as he reflects. It’s very hard for, I believe, for a musical number such as this to work on TV -- that relies on more action and visuals than other mediums. But as I’ve stated in all of these other entries -- Kurt (and Chris, really) is the master of reflecting all these different, conflicting emotions on his face, and making it visually compelling, even if it’s one person in a room, and nothing else going on. The emotion, the complexity, the story is all there in a performance much more mature than anything that had come before it. This is really one of the most beautiful and richly developed performances on the show, and truly one of the best that Kurt has to offer.

1. As If We Never Said Goodbye (Born This Way, 2x18)

I debated for a while which would take the top spot, and what I kept coming back around to was that while Being Alive is the most technically proficient, and deeply profound of Kurt’s solos... As If We Never Said Goodbye is the epitome Kurt’s character and story all wrapped up in one. It is his most iconic solo, and for a reason. It’s all of the emotion, vulnerability, and deeply layered story telling we get so often from Kurt Solos. It perfectly describes the journey this character has been on and where it’s going, as well as just being a fantastic performative piece. It’s helped by the fact that the show allows the whole five minute song to be sung, where we get to follow Kurt as he moves from one stage of his life to the next, again another song about coming out of his shell to reveal his true identity and what is buried in his heart. This song is why I love the character, and why I love his story. The fact that it’s subtle and refined, but having so many layers if you’re willing to look. It’s beautiful and imperfectly perfect, just like Kurt Hummel.

#finding kh #kurt hummel #kurt solos #glee #there ya go!#i'll be getting to the other categories later on this week

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duhliriouss · 4 years

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Joker One - Shot

Grind on Me

Based on @jokerflecker’s anon ask rollplay that got a little too REAL , I’m sorry if this is a flop. I tried writing it as fast a possible for all you horny clowns and kinda went over board 🥺

A/N: plug in those headphones! I like to add music to fics a lot and find that listening with headphones on while reading really brings in the mood ❣️ well at least for me it does (I don’t do anything without music blaring in my ears) I’m sorry if I made it too musical :/

Summary: Joker has made you sexually frustrated so you end up grinding yourself on his thigh. That’s it really except for the insanely added random stuff😅🖤

Word Count: 3,625

Warnings: Swearing, SMUT

You’ve never committed a crime in your life. You can even say that now; as you waited in Joker and yours’ shared apartment for him to come home from his daily tasks of being his clown prince self.

You always had followed him blindly after his transformation. You’ve been together for so long now. And you were okay with his new-found confidence. You were okay with him switching the gears in your relationship; he was in charge now, and thank god for that...you were never good at taking the lead anyway. Now don’t get yourself all wrong, you loved Arthur dearly before he changed. It had always made sense when you soothed his laughing attacks before bed, when you gave him a warm soothing bath and kissed his bruises tenderly to make them feel better. You would do it all over again if you had to, even if it meant to go through mountains and valleys, hell and back just to protect him from the cruel world that had ambushed him vigorously day in and day out.

But you didn’t have to anymore. Instead, the tables had turned. It was Joker now that went though hell and back to protect you. Although this time it was to save you from the consequences of his own actions, the actions that you justified each time he added a number to his kill count. He never killed for the fun of it. It was for solid reasons; They deserved it, and he shows you just how much he appreciates you every day for staying by his side. He was only blossoming, and you will blossom with him in your very own way. You’ve become more loose, not caring what others think; Dancing in the rain with your beloved after he had just blown up the bank, splashing your feet in the wet remains and ash that sprinkled down with the cold water droplets that sent chills up your spine, mingling with the adrenaline you were both high on. And you have never felt more alive.

And that’s exactly what you did in this very moment..

( Listen To: Just the Two of Us - Grover Washington )

The radio trumpeted throughout the flat. Joker would be home soon and what better way to celebrate than lighting a cigarette and letting your head boom so loud you couldn’t even think straight? It sounded great to you, as it did everyday since it had become routine. You’ve grown bored most days since you liked to stay home all curled up in just your clown shaped slippers, one of Joker’s sweatshirts and your messy (y/h/c) hair, watching the news in anticipation to possibly see what your Joker has done now.

You smiled mischievously as you lit your cigarette, bobbing your head slightly to the vibrational thumps of melody that traveled from the floorboards up to your legs.

Just the two of us

Building castles in the sky

Just the two of us

The song certainly didn’t match the gracefulness of your sun dress you decided to wear today, but you danced anyway.

You lifted up your arms above your head with the cigarette in one hand, swaying your body back and forth and singing along, with your head held up high. The twilight sky seeped though the opened window, turning your living room into a lush blue hue, illuminating your already light blue floral adornment while darkening the rest of the flat into darker shades of purple contours.

You boogied and let yourself free, your body finding its way to each corner of the flat. You kept your eyes closed for the most part, letting yourself feel the strains and chords of the day, melting into a simple bliss of song. You moved your fragile, elegant body in ways that would be hard for anyone to keep their eyes off of; especially Joker, since he was already silently watching you from the doorway that led straight to the living area. You kept going, completely oblivious to his presence that had been muffled to the unnecessary loud music that seemed like it could shake the whole damn building.

He moved his forearm against the opened door frame, getting himself more comfortable as he watched you in complete amusement. This was clearly a routine for him too. He enjoyed nothing more than coming home and catching you in the act at your most tasteful state. He was infatuated by the way you’ve changed, with your afresh freedom that he created for you. For the both of you.

He started to tap his foot, his green oceans flicking back and forth as to follow your every move. His red painted lips turned upwards into a wicked smirk, nodding his head with chuckles escaping his throat.

“And darling when the morning comes

And I see the morning sun

I wanna be the one with you”

Joker sang out loud to you. You wiped your body around to find him leaned lazily against the door frame. Pure excitement boiled up your spine to the site of his return as you smiled broadly. Joker’s eyes twinkled to your contagious, beaming grin, causing his smile to grow even wider. You lifted your arms outward with your cigarettes still in your hand as you sung back:

“We can make it just the two of us!”

The saxophone that played in the song had begun as Joker swayed his way over to you, graceful in his bouncing steps, pulling his hands in front of his face in a silly attempt to fake-play the instrument. He kept going in a desperate plead to make you laugh until he was up close to you. And oh did it work. You couldn’t get enough of his absurdity. You laughed audibly over the fading out music, flicking your cigarette to the ash tray by the table that laid next to you so you could stretch out your open arms for a well needed embrace.

“There’s that laugh” Joker cracked out lovingly.

He reached in for your welcoming embrace and held you for what felt like forever. The only sounds now just being the radio talk show host:

“And there you have it folks. Our next song here will get that fog out of your brains. We are all disheartened from all the terrible riots that have been happening all over here in Gotham. So wind down, grab a glass of wine, and kick back to this one..”

(Listen To: Come and Get Your Love - Redbone)

“I’ve missed you” you breathed as you clung to his red suit.

“Shhh, I fucking love this song”

“Wha—“

“Shh” he hissed again “dance with me love”

You complied with a over dramatic eye roll along with a smirk as Joker grabbed your hips and gently started to move your body along with his own. He didn’t even give you any time to take in more of his scent or even be greeted with his usual array of kisses that he leaves all over your face and chest. Once there was music involved, no matter where or what time of day, Joker was clearly unable to contain himself from boogieing down and giving his full attention to anything else. You didn’t care however...actually, you fucking loved it. Nothing was hotter to you than watching him dance. Music or no music. It didn’t matter. His moves would never look as good on anyone else but himself. It sent you in a trance and always sent sparks of butterflies up your core. Actually, it was even more hot when he dances up against you; especially to music like this that forced the both of you to rub up against each other, other than the usual slow dancing and floor dips. Dancing to songs like this made you desire more of him. His confidence dripping off like pure honey, drizzling off the spoon.

Joker spun you around so your back was flush against his chest. He crossed your arms in front of your own chest and kept hold of your forearms as he moved his own hips back and forth, grinding against you. His unruly green locks bounced against the back of his shoulders enticingly. You followed along matching his rhythm, leaning your head back slightly so you can look up at his authentic, painted features. A smile plastered on your face as Joker leaned down and kissed the front of your exposed neck. You both continued to dance back and forth.

The bass that reverberated the entire building enveloped the moans that cracked out of your throat when he forced his tongue out to lap at the sensitive skin. Joker didn’t have to hear it to know what he was doing to you. He actually smirked against the pulsing point of your throat as it quickened. He could also feel the vibrations from your throat too as you whimpered.

“Heeyy“ He sung against your neck, you could feel his hot breath as his face nuzzled against you.

“Heeyy” you replied for the next verse. You both kept your eyes closed, both very aware of each other’s giddy, foolish smiles.

You gasped internally as Joker brought his mouth up to your ear, tucking a strand behind it as he spoke:

“I know what this does to you. I can feel your legs trembling”

“Then do something about it.” you teased back, making sure to keep the innocence in your voice as you spoke softly, though you couldn’t hide the shudder that ran through your body to his words.

Joker hummed in response. Your bodies just kept moving in a silent game of who can make the other give in first. It was Joker’s turn as he let go of your crossed arms and slid his rough hands down the seem of your dress, stopping at the front of your hips and grabbing down. Your breath hinged, cursing internally to yourself for telling him long ago that this was your sensitive spot.

Your heat was starting to drip to the inside of your thighs, you swallowed hard in anticipation of realizing it was now your turn. But before you could even think of what to do to get him going, the music ended.

“That’s alright” you thought to yourself. “I don’t need music to win”.

Apparently you did as you realized Joker had let go of you now. You stayed facing away from him for a few seconds as the talk show host invaded the silence that resided the room. You turned around to meet his gaze which you thought was right behind you, but instead watched as he was actually over in the kitchen area, pouring 2 glasses a wine for the both of you.

“Hey! That’s not fair! It was my turn!”

He seemed to ignore your clamor but held a small, smug grin which didn’t seem so small with that exaggerating, red stained smile. He made his way over with the 2 wine glasses, passing one over to you. You snatched it out of his hands, waiting for an explanation on leaving you this flustered.

“Your turn for what darling? I can’t dance all night. And besides..” he paused to reach down to the coffee table, grabbing his cigarette and lighting it. “That radio guy was really making me crave some wine”

Your lips parted slightly in bewilderment. Joker on the other hand took a long drag off his cigarette, looking deep into your dilated pupils. He was eating up all of your sweet reactions, it was such a drug to him, watching you be a writhing, flustered mess. You were completely unaware of the fact that this was still Joker’s turn. And he was winning. You never stood a chance and deep down you knew better.

You didn’t move and kept your eyes locked on him as he gave you a half chuckle. He held his cigarette with his mouth while he walked passed you to get to the tv, switching it on before making his way back to the couch. You turned to get out of his way but stayed standing still with the wine glass in your hand. You were feeling rather speechless on what to do or say next. Joker sat down gently on the couch as to not spill his brim-filled beverage. He kept his legs spread out and reached out his arms to the back of the couch lazily. He stared at you for a moment again, so you crossed your arms childishly and formed your lips into a pout.

“Yes?” You asked.

“I can’t see the T.V doll, could you move for me?”

His words stung straight to your chest. You were still completely unaware of his little game, prudishly under his control and he knew it. This was only making him radiate even more confidence. You stepped out of his way and stood to the side. You held your glass of wine with both hands, as if suddenly forgetting how to properly hold it due to how unnerved you were still feeling. You were extremely frustrated with the arousal you were still experiencing. It had all stopped so abruptly and all you craved in this moment was his hands on your soft skin again. Your skin tingled from being especially touch starved in this moment.

Your frustrations got the best of you as you failed to notice Joker’s enlarged pupils boaring into your innocent form. He was clearly satisfied with himself for thoroughly throwing you off. He was in control now. Your thoughts were finally interrupted as Joker cleared his throat. You snapped your head up to look him in the face, causing him to grin widely at seeing your flushed cheeks. You waited for him to speak but instead watched as he placed his already half drunken wine glass gently down on the side table, then using that now free hand to pat on his lap.

“Come”

He didn’t even need to say anything for you to know he wanted you to straddle him while he watched T.V. It had also become a routine for you and Joker’s down time. You sighed, ultimately giving up and walking over to him with a sheepish, tired smile painted on your lips. You sucked down most of your wine before taking your place on his lap. He didn’t move a muscle as you tried to get yourself comfortable, though it was hard seeing how, for some reason, he wasn’t closing his legs enough for you to be able to saddle him with one leg on each side of him. You didn’t think much of it though, you got comfy anyways by placing one leg on each side of just one of his legs, then lying down your head against his red suited chest to close your eyes and let the wine lull you into a dizzy nap.

You were struggling however, you couldn’t stop thinking about Joker’s hands on you just minutes ago. You felt slightly ashamed by how wet you were still getting underneath your sundress. You needed some friction more than ever right now. So you slowly started to move your hips against his thigh, oh so carefully as to not get him to notice. You acted it out as if you were just repositioning yourself.

Joker smirked wickedly as he kept his eyes to the T.V. , he had the news on which played a segment about himself. Though it wasn’t the purpose for his smug smirk - he knew exactly what you were doing. You had fell right into his trap, just how he wanted it..

“It’s okay darling, go ahead, rub yourself on me” his voice cracked a little

Blood rushed to your ears from his words. Your head snapped up drastically as you looked into his eyes, which flicked casually from the T.V to meet yours. You could see his dilated pupils now.

Was this his plan all along?

Joker watched as your rosy cheeks turned into a deeper red, flushing down all the way to your breasts. His gaze dipped down until stopping at your heaving chest. He swallowed trying to rewet his mouth, then licked the button of his lip before bringing his thigh up just gently enough to reach your heat, causing you to twitch slightly.

“Come on, don’t be shy now”

His words mixed with his relaxed posture was driving you crazy. Juices were soaking your panties at this point as butterflies continued to dance in your veins. You’ve never rubbed yourself against your Joker’s thigh before, so you complied timidly, steadying yourself first by placing your hands gently on his broad shoulders. You positioned and grounded your swollen bud on the right spot, instantly feeling the warmth that took shelter under his pant leg. You were a little too embarrassed to look him in the eyes yet, so you curled your back forwards slightly to give yourself room to rest your head into the crook of his neck. You could feel his pulse point quicken as you began to move yourself back and forth. Once you leaned down under his chin, Joker lifted his head slightly to give himself room to place his cigarette between his lips without interrupting you. His cigarette hung loosely from his mouth while his hands found their way back to the backs of the couch.

His eyes stayed locked to the T.V as you continued to grind on him; He wasn’t watching it however. His eyes stayed locked in on the reflection of the television, observing each and every motion of how you got off on him. How your (y/h/c) hair fell messily around your shoulders, down your back as you moved yourself on him.

Your breathe was getting more and more rigid as you continued. You were already feeling the tightness build up in your abdomen and your breath started to turn into whines that muffled themselves into his suit. You twisted your arm around the back of his neck more to get a better angle, you needed as much friction as possible. You were starting to get really close to your release. And Joker could tell because you finally brought your head up to face him. He his eyes caught yours in a heavy glare. Your flushed face watched him. He still acted almost careless but you could tell it was still his game since his eclipsed, barley visible green rings around the pupil of his eyes gave it away. His stare alone was enough for you to come undone.

Joker’s cigarette still stayed loosely between his thin red lips but his arms finally made their way off the couch and his hand traveled to your hips. Your maneuvers were becoming way out of sync so he gripped down hard with his calloused hands, moving you rapidly and roughly. His eyes flicked back and forth casually, multiple times until eventually resting where your blue floral trim met with your silky skin. The skirt of your dress had risen quite a bit from Joker’s hands. His head tilted just slightly enough to get a better look at how your juices were visible on this part of your thigh, shimmering from the dim light of the living room. You finally heard a low grumble accumulate in his throat. And your left knee could now feel the bulge that started to take over his pants.

This was enough for you now. You couldn’t take anymore as you threw your whole being into Joker’s loose embrace, sending out a loud cry as waves of your orgasm washed over your trembling frame. Joker let go of your hips, now just ghosting his hands over them to let you ride out your climax. You grabbed fistfuls of his red suit in your hands. Your legs shook violently around him until you could catch your breath. You were calming down but you were still a writhing mess. Joker didn’t move yet so you slowly brought your head up. His eyes looked at you for just a second before taking the last drag of the stub of a cigarette that still poked out of his mouth. He took one hand and discarding it in the ashtray next to him on the side table. He leaned his attention back to you, now looking straight down right on his suite to see all the drool you had left on it. His eyes then traveled to the bottom of your skirt again that displayed delicately to cover all your cum faultlessly. Your eyes darted all around him desperately waiting for any kind of reaction from him. Anything

“Lift up that pretty little dress of yours and show me the mess you’ve made” his voice came out hoarse and flat. Almost unamused

You obeyed, but you couldn’t tell what game he was playing now. Was he really unimpressed with you pleasing yourself on him for the first time ever? Did you really do that bad of a job? Was the way you did it unattractive? You internally nodded your head no, since you still could feel his hardened cock against your knee. He was obviously pleased.

With one last hesitating look, you slowly hiked up your skirt; you were wearing white panties but when Joker’s eyes fell on your mess, he saw how you have came so much that your thong was completely soaked, and see through. The white fabric clung to your pussy, defining your glistening folds. Joker swallowed hard and you could almost hear his heart beating faster in his chest. He let a few rigid breaths before letting out a small series of throaty chuckles. He lifted his head back up to you and you were caught off guard by a charming, wide smile:

“I win..”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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whumprincess · 4 years

Text

World of Pain: Ch. 2 - Juliet Takes the Stage

Word Count: 2352 words

CW: Creepy/Intimate/Possessive Whumper, Lady Whumpee, broken bones, torture, body control/human marionette, dehumanization, death threat, begging, mild horror, True Fae

Summary: Clara learns the misfortune that falls upon anyone unlucky enough to attract the attention of a True Fae obsessed with theatre.

Related Content: Intro, Chapter 1

Clara’s wakefulness came as erratically as a skipping record. There was an unsettling tune playing in her mind, one that was both familiar and unknowable. It steadily grew louder and more intrusive with every passing second.

“Rise and shine, Juliet!”

Their speech was nothing more than a mess of music notes escaping into the air and yet she understood all the same. Her vision was blurry as her eyes fluttered open.

“My, my, how precious.”

She felt woozy and captivated with every… word. However, even amidst her haziness, it was abundantly clear that something was wrong. Horror sank deep into her body when her eyes focused on thin, translucent wires wound taut around her flesh. Instinctively, she fought against her bonds only to be interrupted by an aggravating pitch she just knew was a laugh.

“And such fun too!”

“FUN?!” Her voice pierced the air, addressing the presence that seemed to be simultaneously everywhere and nowhere. “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!”

“About you, Juliet!” The strings entangling her shifted to prop her up onto her feet and then concentrated around her elbows and knees. “Most of them don’t notice until…”

The sound of snapping harp strings accompanied the sensation of snapping bones. In an instant Clara lamented every object she had ever broken. The screech that left her lips was impossibly loud and pathetically quiet.

“Ah, such a beautiful song.”

Her joints gave way, but she remain standing. A delicate thread slowly creeped its way under her chin.

”Now… let’s take a look at your pretty face.”

Gently, her anguished expression was directed upwards. She nearly drowned in her own tears as she came face to faces with an abomination of reality.

“Perfection.”

This wasn’t happening… it couldn’t be happening! What she was looking at wasn’t even possible. The only way she could interpret it was as three large masks that didn’t fit in her field of vision, made up of an ever-shifting number of eyes. Their eyes conveyed emotion by warping smaller ones into crescent brows. Each face was connected to a large smile that resembled a harp… or perhaps it was the other way around? The “teeth” were the very same wires that were holding her up. She had wanted to refute its existence, to tell it to burn in hell, but every time she opened her mouth her voice was replaced by cries.

“Still conscious and singing? You must be trying to impress us!”

Clara’s anger overrode her pain and fear, “I-!”

“Oh?”

The eldritch horror reeled her in, eagerly awaiting her response. She was lost in their presence, but made found by the countless amount of eyes that gazed upon her. The need to breakdown was immense, but she fought it with the entirety of her will.

“PUT ME DOWN!”

Their screeching laughter nearly made her pass-out, “Now why would we do that? You can’t even move without us!”

“I DON’T CARE!”

“Now don’t be cruel.” They let out a sorrowful note.

“CRUEL!?” Surely even in this godforsaken place irony must exist.

“We went through all this trouble to welcome you home. You should be grateful to be ours.”

The mere insinuation made her blood boil, “I AM NOT YOURS!”

“Of course you are!”

“I DIDN’T AGREE TO THIS!”

“Agree? You say the cutest things!” Their smile extended beyond their faces. “Surely you understand a plaything has no say over who owns them.”

The weight of their words sat heavy on her broken bones. She was preparing to retort, when they abruptly gave each of their cords a twist. Agony once again robbed her of her words and forced screams out of her throat.

“We knew you’d understand, Juliet! Now, let’s get you ready!”

Clara must’ve succumbed to her overwhelming torment because the next thing she knew she was in what appeared to be an extravagant dressing room. Her earlier memories started to trickle back in causing her to panic. She jolted forward, attempting to escape, only to be met with the harsh reminder that her limbs were no longer hers to control.

The melody of her wail put them at ease, “Good, you’re finally awake! We were worried you’d be late for the show.”

The pounding of her aching body was ear-splitting; she shouldn’t have been able to hear that monstrosity as clearly as she did… there truly was little mercy in the world. Obstinately, she endured the rush of queasiness that threatened to send her back to sleep. She had to collect herself, she had to show them she would not be toyed with!

“What the hell do you mean: show?”

“Come now, Juliet, don’t be silly! It’s the reason you’re here.”

She was confused for merely a moment, before she caught a glimpse of herself in a nearby mirror. In the glass she saw reflected her fragile frame strung up and decorated like some hapless marionette. Her heart plummeted as she fought the invading realization, “No!”

“Yes!” They responded, all their eyes lighting up with joy.

“I won’t do it!”

“Oh, Juliet,” they sighed. “You’re so eager to make things difficult.” They puppeted her towards the mirror, ensuring they were visible right behind her. “You’re forgetting…” Their tone was low and accompanied by strings coiling around her neck, “we’re the ones who run the show.”

Her heart was beating like a hammer, she couldn’t run even if she wanted to. As her mortified eyes stared into their soulless ones she recognized death was as close as she wanted it to be. “I-“ She considered her next words more carefully than her outfits, “I don’t know the script.”

Their amusement echoed throughout the space, “Of course you do!” They spun her around and waltzed her across the room to where a script lie on a table. “Go ahead, pick it up!”

They extended her arm towards Romeo and Juliet. For whatever bizarre reason, whenever this thing moved her around there was no pain; in fact it was almost soothing. With a scowl, she took the paper in her hands and flipped through it. Surely there must be some sort of demented twist. It came as a complete shock when, not only did this appear to be an ordinary telling of the story, but she also did indeed know all of Juliet’s lines flawlessly.

“How?” her question was halfway amongst demanding and disbelief.

“I’ve known you a long time, Juliet…” They moved a string to rest on her shoulder. They delighted in the vibrations of her shudder, “You were made for this role.”

She felt lightheaded. She was stuck between wanting to pry for further answers and wishing she had never asked in the first place. However, one thing was for certain: All this stress would not be good for her performance.

“When is the show?”

“Whenever we want it to be.”

She couldn’t help but roll her eyes at their smug attitude, “Well then, could I persuade you to postpone indefinitely?”

They gave a deep chuckle as they caressed either side of her face with their cords, “Careful, Juliet.” They ominously inched closer to her pupils, “It would be a shame if we had to hold your pretty eyes in place too.”

Reflexively, she shut her eyes tight. She wanted this villain to touch her as little as possible, which was already a challenge considering they hadn’t let go of her since she arrived at this horrid place. “Right, well…” she cleared her throat, “What time suits you?”

Pleased with her change in demeanour, they rearranged their strings to maneuver her towards an ornate door. “Immediately.”

She had a sinking feeling that’s what they would say.

The stage was hotter than hell and the audience looked like they belonged there. Beings appearing even more sinister than her captor were among the crowd, fervently awaiting to witness a show, where she could only assume, no one was a willing participant. She felt sick considering she could be connected to all the other actors on stage via that thing. Her vindictive urge to ruin this damned play boiled to the surface, but before she could indulge it, its voice filled the auditorium.

“Fair folk and accompanying unfair folk, we thank you for coming to the greatest show in Arcadia!”

Cheering erupted from the crowd and in an instant Clara was reminded of home; her real home up on stage, where she was revered and she could do no wrong. A home where the applause harmonized so perfectly with the rhythm of her heart, she knew it belonged solely to her. Her instincts as an actress took over; she was determined to get her praise.

And she did.

Her performance was immaculate. Every line spoken from her soft, tantalising lips was angelic; every movement she was forced to complete was made her own by the flourishes of her fingertips and fluttering of her eyelashes; every minute she spent in the spotlight was blessed by her poise and passion. By the end of the show, she had undoubtedly earned the standing ovation offered by the cursed spectators. She fell so deep into the sound, the fame, the adoration that it was all she could remember, all she could dream of until…

They could never possibly tire of the sweet refrain of Juliet’s cries. As much as they loved seeing her be their perfect little puppet they were overcome with fondness whenever she writhed for them. They had waited with anticipation for the inevitable reminder that their kindness was a gift they had graciously given to her; one that could be easily taken away.

She didn’t even believe she was the one making those mangled shrieks until the unrelenting pain tore her from her dreams. All too vividly, she felt the twisting and turning of her bones as they attempted to fuse with something that was not her own. When she clamped her eyes shut, an intense image of thorny vines drilling deep into her flesh filled her mind. She watched as it scraped the length of her bones and spread out to contort around her broken parts.

“What’s the matter, Juliet?” They asked, teeming with glee.

As its sound danced its way inside her head, she attempted to close them out- to pretend she couldn’t hear them, but it was impossible to ignore the feeling of infinite eyes leering at her; making a spectacle of her suffering. She felt exposed. Exploited. Violated.

Overindulging their enjoyment, they pried her dripping eyes open, “Let us see those pretty eyes!”

She was utterly helpless as her last semblance of control was ripped away. Gawking at her nightmare, reality set in like cement: there was no escape. The violent convulsions of her healing body were the only means of protest she had left.

“Aw,” they cooed with mocking sympathy, “Is it too much for our plaything to take?”

Defiance mixed in with all the other hellish sensations housed within her. Her weak voice was dragged out of hiding, “N-o…”

“Hm, what was that? We couldn’t quite hear you.”

With all the energy she had left she shouted, “NO!”

“BRAVO! SPLENDID!” They played a congratulatory tune as they lifted her off the ground. “You can still sing!” They twirled and tossed her around from string to string until she was chaotically ensnared. “That means we can hear what we want.”

Being thrown around like some ragdoll should have aggravated her wounds, but it didn’t. Just like when she was performing, being connected to their cords brought her peace. Betraying her desire to flee from her tormentor, she let out a pleasant sigh of relief.

“There’s our Juliet.” They mused softly.

Although she was undeniably in less pain, she was sick to her stomach. The thought that it had any claim over her was revolting. She was seconds away from ordering it to unhand her before fear told her to hold her breath.

“Is there something you want to say?” They urged deviously.

She bit her tongue until it bled, maintaining a hateful glare. It was excruciatingly obvious they wanted her to lash out, to expel curses that would be used against her, so she practiced a new form of rebellion: silence.

“No? Just as well. It’s important you listen to what we have to say.” They intentionally began to rub their wires over her tender joints. “We have spoiled you, Juliet; Chosen to show you kindness without so much as asking for a please or thank you, however…” Without warning, they applied pressure, “We think it’s time you begged for our mercy.”

Unable to restrain herself, she spat blood and vitriol, “OVER MY DEAD BODY!”

Euphoric at her response, they cackled while jostling her around. Eventually, nothing but a single strand of string remained, precariously wrapped around her slender ankle. “That can be arranged!”

Vertigo set in as she faced the threat of plummeting to her death. Unfortunately, it wasn’t strong enough to overshadow the pain that impatiently returned to occupy its natural place in her body.

“So what will be?” They asked with a tightly strung note, “Would you rather beg or die?”

Just when she thought she might accept death, a pining voice resounded inside her mind:

“I’ll miss you, Doll.”

Why? In this world, where she was reduced to nothing more than an object; where she was certain to be subject to more misery; where there was no hope of escape; did she hear her? And why, oh why, did it fill her with such melancholy resolve?

With a heart torn more viciously than any part of her she sobbed, “Please…”

She remembered the brightness of her hair.

“I’ll do anything…”

The inviting hue of her eyes.

“Anything for you…”

The allure of her smile.

“So please…”

The warmth of her hands.

“Let me live!” Her desperation came to a crescendo. By the end of her pleading, she found herself enveloped in the villain’s embrace.

“Oh, Juliet.” They played with the red locks of her hair, “We didn’t know you loved us so.” They gently squeezed every cord surrounding her, “How could we ever let you go?”

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years

Text

Survey #442

“the more you suffer, the more it shows you really care, right?”

Would you ever sell your soul? No. Do you believe that something is going to happen in 2012? Welp, clearly not. I never believed it. Have you ever been to the Grand Canyon? No, but I'd love to! When was the last time you slept in someone else’s bed? Uhhh not since I visited Sara, I think. Do you like your music loud or at a reasonable level? Loud, for sure. Louder than I should listen to. Did the last person you kiss have a tattoo? No. What’s the last song you heard? "The Bird and the Worm" by The Used. Has anyone told you they missed you lately? No. What are you most likely to do when you’re exhausted; take a nap, drink some coffee, or go for a run to get yourself pumped up again? Naps definitely win. What are you most likely to pick if you got to choose your topic on a research paper; drug abuse, mental illness, or the death penalty? Mental illness, for sure. What is your favorite month of the year and why? October, bc aesthetic. What’s your least favorite animal? Probably wasps. They're mean fuckers that kill bees. What was your class song when you graduated? Some super shitty country song. Have you ever had to spend the night outside (not camping)? No. What`s the scariest living animal that you`ve petted? A tarantula, I'd say. She was a sweet rose hair that I literally did pet, which you absolutely should not do to tarantulas, but I knew nothing about them at the time. The urticating hairs on their abdomens cause serious itching, and I tell ya, that sure happened. So did you play old school Nintendo or Atari or Sega? If so which one? We had an old Atari for a long time. When/where did you meet your first love? In the hallway, during my sophomore year of high school. Is there anyone you dislike, that you have to see/speak to regularly? Hm, what qualifies as "regularly," really? I don't like my sister's husband, who I see semi-regularly, but I don't really talk to him. Does your family eat any unique foods for Thanksgiving that aren’t the norm? If so, what are they? Nah, not that I can think of. If you eat oatmeal, do you add water or milk to it? What is your favorite flavor? Milk; I don't like it with water. I only eat the apples and cinnamon kind. Was the last video you watched on YouTube a music video? If not, what was it of? It's a let's play. Have you ever been brave enough to cut your hair in a very different way? If you have, did you regret your decision after? Yes, and I still love it. What was the last book you had to read for school? Did you enjoy it, or were you just trying to get through? The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood. I loved it. Has anyone you know personally ever won the lottery? If so, how much did they win? Would/have you ever play(ed) the lottery? No to both questions. I have a very addictive personality, so I don't really mess with dangerous things that might tempt that behavior. What band/celebrity/etc. do you know the most information about? Who would you like to learn more about? Markiplier, ha ha. As for who I'd like to know more about... hm. Have your friends met the last person you kissed? Girt has. Who has made the biggest difference in your life? Jason. You get a text from someone saying that they want to hang out - who would you most like it to be from? Also Jason. -_- What is the name on your birth certificate (feel free to withhold your last name for privacy reasons)? Brittany Marie is all you need to know. Even if shopping isn’t your favorite... every girl has a favorite store. What’s yours? My favorite physical store is Hot Topic, but my favorite store overall is Rebel's Market, which I'm pretty sure is just an online source. Which type of undies do you wear most: Thongs, bikini/briefs, bootyshorts, or granny panties? Don't you dare laugh, I prefer "granny panties" lmfao. They're what I'm comfortable in, okay. How many nail polishes do you have, if you were to take a guess? *I* have none. Idk about Mom, but I know not a lot. Are you on birth control? Do you use condoms? I use birth control to regulate my period and ease cramps. If I was sexually active though, both would be musts for me. When did you start your period? How did you react? Who did you tell first? When I got home from school sometime in middle school. I don't remember exactly how old I was, but I was EXTREMELY upset. Like, I cried, because I didn't feel like a kid anymore. My mom was the first to know. Have you ever had sex while on your period? If so, would you ever do it again? NO NO NO NO THAT SOUNDS SO GROSS LKASDFJ;AJW;LKERJA;WEJLRKQWLKE;JR. Which way do you swing (boys, girls, or both)? I'm bi. Or pan. I really don't know. Tell me ALL about your longest/most serious relationship. Are you still in that relationship? How about I don't, because doing that I'm sure will send me in a PTSD spiral. No, we're no longer together. Who is your ALL TIME best friend (don’t count your boyfriend, either, silly!)? Sara. I don't think I've been as close with any other best friend. Which one of your friends has the best singing voice? SARAAAAAAAAAAA. What shade are you in foundation or concealer? I don't have a clue. I don't wear either. Have you ever showered with someone? Boy or girl? Were you completely naked? "Were you completely naked." No, I shower with underwear on. I've showered with my little sister as well as my best friend as a kid. I've never shared a shower as an adult and don't want to. Do you think you’re good enough for the person you like? No. Are you a cuddler or no? If I'm really into you, YUP. And if it's not hot. Wouldn’t it be kinda annoying to have to share a bed every night? No. I miss it sometimes. Have you ever walked on a beach at night? Yes. It's beautiful. Could you go the rest of your life without drinking alcohol? Pretty easily, yeah. Would you marry someone you didn’t love if you were paid 10 thousand dollars? No. I just wouldn't be able to stomach doing that. I'm solely marrying for love. Have you had sex today? I haven't in many years. Do you still care about your last ex? Very very much! Do you own more then one bathing suit? Nope. Is there any alcohol in the fridge? Yeah, but none I like. Who have you recently made up with after fighting? Nobody. Who do you WANT to make up with? Jason. Megan. Do you get scared easily? Hm. It really depends on the situation. Have you seen UP? Never the full movie, actually. I need to. How many coats of mascara do you use? I use it so rarely that I barely know. Two, maybe? What’s your favorite bracelet? The one Sara gave me. I used to always wear it, but it's worn down with time and is too loose for me now, so it's just with my jewelry. What color hair does your mom have? It's naturally gray now, but she dyes it black. Favorite song to listen to when you are mad? "Headache" by Motionless In White does it. What restaurant would you want to work at? NONE. I ain't working with hungry people. I don't want to work with people - period. When people ask “how are you?” do you say “good” even if you aren’t? Depends on who's asking. If it's a stranger or someone I barely know, odds are I'm just going to reply with "fine" or something like that. Were you honestly a good kid? Yes. Is anything wrong with your eyes? I have to wear glasses, so. Have you kissed or hugged anyone today? No. What is your mom’s and dad’s favorite TV show? I don't really know for either. Mom watches loads of shows, and I don't live with Dad, so. I know he really likes The Big Bang Theory, though, which Mom also loves. Have you ever suspected your mom or dad of having an affair? No, but ~supposedly~, Dad did with his now-wife. I don't know what the fuck is true between my parents, though. Do you think buying second hand clothes is gross? It depends on the type of clothing (ex., used underwear is a huge fucking no), as well as the state it's in. Does it gross you out when your parents kiss? They're divorced. That would be incredibly weird, uncomfortable, and impossible with how I know at least Mom feels towards Dad. Do you have a playlist made on YouTube? Yeah, multiple. Do you like dollar stores? I mean, sure? They have good deals occasionally and are a good option to stop for a quick snack or something. Mom doesn't actually *shop* in them, though. What’s the last thing you bought from one? I think a honeybun. Do you think it’s weird how babies are made? Well, yeah. Science can be crazy, though. Have you ever lost a friend over the opposite sex? No. Are you comfortable in a short skirt? I wouldn't be comfortable in ANY skirt. Do you and your family go on a vacation ever year? We essentially never do. Vacations cost money. We don't have money to spare. When you were going out with your last ex and you had the chance to date your celebrity crush, would you have left your bf/gf for them? No, because it's not like I know him personally, while I know her very deeply. Who was your most romantic moment with? Jason. Do you sweat easily? Like you wouldn't BELIEVE. A side effect of one (or even multiple) of my meds is hyperhidrosis, so I can sweat an ocean in two minutes, it seems. It's disgusting, and I am so self-conscious about it. What’s one memory you wish would just vanish? Just a specific moment with Jason that is particularly agonizing to recall. Are you in love with someone? No. Partying or watching a movie? Partying isn't my thing. I'd have more fun watching a movie with friends. What pisses you off the most? Child molesters/rapists, probably. Where do you want to be at a year from now? I just want a job by then, dude. I also hope I've lost a lot of weight. Do you like pickles? Only dill pickles. If you saw someone broken down on the side of the road, would you stop to help? Honestly, no. I don't trust people. What do you do with your plastic grocery bags after you unload your things? We put our plastic bags into one big bag for later use. Have you ever slept in a water bed? Yes. How often do you use Flickr? I don't. I only ever check my friend's for meerkat photos, ha ha. Share three nice memories you have of the person you fell hardest for. No, unless you want me to cry. Have you ever made any of your friends cry? Not deliberately of course, but yes. Do you look decent in your most recent photograph? God no, I look high. Out of all the guys you know, who would you trust to not cheat on you? Girt. I know he never would, especially because HE'S been cheated on. How do you plan on disciplining your children? NOT by physical means, I can tell you that much. If I actually had kids, I'd teach them through (hopefully) primarily deeply talking things out. If need be, there'd be time out, grounding, things like that. I do NOT support methods like spanking your kid, so that's a big no. If you could live in another country, would you? What country? Yes; Canada. If you could change your name, what would you change it to? Quinn, probably. What’s one health problem you wish you didn’t have? It's a tie between depression and anxiety. What is your cure for hiccups? NOTHING works for me. It's the worst. Did you ever do anything in class that annoyed other students? I mean, I don't think so. Have you used a Ouija board and had a freaky experience with it? I've never messed with one, and I don't want to. I don't know if I believe in their supernatural abilities or not, but I ain't fuckin around and finding out. Do you stick with a political party, or vote for who you like best? I pick based on their policies and morals, not necessarily their party. Do you know anyone who is an albino? No. Word search or crossword puzzle? Word searches. When you watch a game show, do you like to see people win or lose? Aw, who wants to see them lose? It's great to see people win and be so excited. Do you have a pair of fake redneck, vampire, etc. teeth? No. What is your favorite Pixar film? Finding Nemo. Do you get really mad when you lose a game? Not at all. I'm not very competitive, and games are about having fun. When was the last time you used a pay phone? I actually don't think I ever have. Who did you have your most amazing kiss with? Jason. Do you go to church every Sunday? I never go to church as I'm not religious. If you had to get famous for one of the following, which would you choose: music, acting, writing, modeling? Writing. What do you think of girls with huge boobs that don’t wear bras in public? Who the fuck cares. If they're comfortable and at least have a shirt on, let 'em. Most women have breasts, big whoop. Do you even like politics? God no. What’s it like at raves? Oh god, I'd never go. Have you ever had a dream in which you were making out, or more, with someone? lol yes

#survey #surveys #random questions #lyrics: ''self esteem'' by the offspring

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bangtan-madi · 4 years

Text

546 Days Without You — Ten: Day 300

Pairing — Seokjin x Reader

Tags — boyfriend!Seokjin, older brother!Yoongi, producer/songwriter!MC, military au (ish), idol au (ish)

Genre — fluff, angst

Word Count — 2.7k

Summary — Kim Seokjin is your entire world, and that world falls apart the moment he and your older brother Yoongi are conscripted into the South Korean military.

Part — 10 / 15

Warnings — none

A/N — I am so sorry for the long wait for this update, guys. Same old story; all work, no play. Hope it's made up for the absence somehow. Thanks for sticking with me <3

Previous — Next

The roar of the crowds grows louder and louder as showtime gets closer. Fans pour in for hours, elated and ecstatic to see the boys in person. Singing and dancing, cheers and laughter, all forms of joy fill Olympic Stadium. As the time grows nearer, you can feel the auditorium start to tremble under your feet. It's far from the first time you've been this close to a show—this has been part of your life for the last eight years—but being such an integral part of it gives the night a whole other feeling.

The only way you can describe it is pure wonder.

Peering down to see the massive crowds finding their seats, ensuring that you remain hidden behind the large stage lighting on the highest balcony, you force yourself to take a deep breath and hold it. It's the one thing that's worked consistently through the last year, and it's the one thing Seokjin's told you on a regular basis.

"If your breath is off, you'll feel it," he'd repeat over and over on every call. And then he'd follow that up with a silly joke and force you to practice breathing with him.

To which you'd always give him an eye-roll and sarcastic quip—while practicing with him, of course. It's his way of showing how much he cares. He'd talked you through plenty of moments of self-doubt.

"Remember: Sing for yourself first—the rest of the world can follow suit."

But the shoulder you leaned on that particular night was that of your brother. He'd been promoted recently and was given similar freeing privileges, so you no longer had to rely on such an archaic way of communication.

"Are you nervous for tomorrow?" he'd asked the night before, voice soft and timbre as you remember.

You'd tried to make it seem as if the nerves were gone, but even with the slight tremble in your voice, you could tell that he knew right away. You might've been able to fool most people that you were conquering the hoard of butterflies in your stomach, but Yoongi reads you like an open book.

"And don't lie."

"It's my first live show," you explained. "We've been practicing for the tour for months. I've been nailing my singing and rapping. All of us are spent, and tour hasn't even begun...but we're also the most excited we've been in a while. It feels like we haven't been with the Army in so, so long. Like years have passed."

"So you're torn, aren't you?"

Even though you knew he couldn't see you, you nodded your agreement. "I never thought I'd be so excited to tour with them. At first, I was horrified at the idea. And then I saw the benefits and thought it could be fun. Everyone's been so supportive and helpful. The boys and the team have guided me through all the parts I'd only seen from the sidelines. Now that I'm in the middle of it...I feel both honored and thrilled and terrified and nervous."

Yoongi chuckled softly at the confession. "That's awfully honest of you. Normally I have to pry it out of you."

"What can I say? I've spent an ungodly amount of time with Jimin. Like, even more than before. I'm now a professional feeler."

Your brother's laughter grew in volume, then fades as he insisted, "Well, your feelings are totally valid. The older I get, the more I realize that it's both normal and fine to have conflicting emotions. You can be both excited and scared. You can be nervous and thrilled. You can both be impatient to begin and scared of it, too. That's life. That's the human condition."

"Even if I feel sick to my stomach?" you asked with a chortle.

"Especially if. We paint our lives as two distinct sides and tell ourselves that we must be in one or the other. We're happy. We're sad. We're scared. We're delighted. There are no in-betweens. But here's the thing: life is not binary. There's no black and white, and you have to learn to be okay with being all of these things at once. It's a lot, but it's the greatest part of life."

"And the worst," you added.

Yoongi laughed, "Well, that's part of it, too!"

You let out a huff of air and felt the uneasiness in your body settle down as his words hit home. "When did you get so wise, Yoongles?"

"I've always been wise. You're just now enlightened enough to see it."

Thinking back on that conversation, you can't help but chuckle and bring your attention back to the moment. The night is unraveling perfectly. All of the work and time and money that's been invested in this tour, especially the first night, is paying off. For once, the universe is on your side, and all is going according to plan. In a few moments, you'll begin the trek down to the stage interior and begin the final prep for the performance.

But in this moment, you stand with arms braced against the metal railing, gazing from the Army, to the stage, and up to the periwinkle sky. The lights are twinkling as bombs light up across the tens of thousands, and the horizon wraps around the stadium like a blanket. The weather is clear and the stars are beginning to show themselves.

It brings a smile to your face when you realize you're comfortable with the medley of feelings in your chest, and that you find yourself more than willing to face the night with them.

Straightening up, you raise your hand to catch the wind as a breeze sweeps down from the clouds and into the crowds. Your smile grows, and a joyful sound builds in your chest. And for the first time, your heartbeat quickens not from fear alone, but from excitement.

Bounding down the stairs, two at a time, you sneak around the Army and make your way back to the boys. Most of them are already dressed for the first performance, with a couple finishing touches being added to their hair and makeup. Jimin catches your gaze first, forever the worrisome one. You give a reassuring smile, and the tiny line between Jimin's brows dissipates.

Taehyung pulls you towards the stylist. "You need to get ready," he orders with a playful smile. "We have the first couple of songs, then you're up."

Nodding once, you turn towards your flashy tour garb that hangs on the rack to the side. "Got it."

"Are you ready, [Y/n]-ie?" Hoseok inquires.

You give the now-senior member two thumbs-ups, grin widening. "I got this. We got this!"

Namjoon ruffles your hair as he passes, surprised and thrilled with your eagerness. To which Jungkook shouts, "Let's get it!"

After the vocal line's song comes to an end, and the cheers begin to fade, you're ushered to the lift under the stage. Jimin holds your hand along the way, and he's the one that helps you up the step and onto the platform. Jungkook hands you your sparkly, white mic and leaves his tattooed hand on your trembling fingers as reassurance.

Hoseok adjusts your matching earpieces so that they stay in place, and Taehyung places a stabilizing hand between your shoulder blades. Namjoon's eyes lock with yours, and even though no words are said, the nod he gives you says everything.

Focusing on a calm exhale, you give a thumbs up to the members. As they visibly relax and back away from the platform, you raise your thumb towards the crew. A lever is pulled, and the gears in the lift groan to life. You crouch down as the platform begins to rise, letting your eyes flutter shut in one final moment of tranquility.

White noise. It's the only sound you can hear through the muffling of your earpieces. Not even technology can block out the cheers and elations of Army. The pitter-patter of your heart causes the smile to spread across your face.

Opening your eyes, the platform halts at the top of the stage. You straighten your legs as a rush of adrenaline pumps through your body. The sudden resurgence of energy has you blasting out onto the stage, as perfect as all those days of practice could be. Except this time, you have a sea of lights that play against the dark.

The live track begins to play, and you strut to your on-stage cue. Lifting the microphone to your lips, you begin to sing. From the very first note, the crowd goes wild. It's everything you could've dreamed and more. The way they immediately sing along, the way they dance along with you despite not knowing all the choreography, the way they cheer for someone who's as new to this stage as a trainee. Their support lifts you and carries you along your well-practiced routine.

The melody flows from the first verse to the chorus, then into the second verse. Not once does your voice crack. Not once does your memory falter. Not once do your feet tangle under you. If ever there were a perfect performance, especially with the high note in the bridge before the final chorus, it was this night in Seoul.

You know Seokjin and Yoongi would be proud as hell.

When the song comes to an end, the mic drops from your lips and your head rolls back. You take a moment to let the sight around you imprint in the back of your mind. Every part of this first performance, you want to remember it forever. Even the bittersweet fact that your brother and lover are far away from such an impactful moment.

Tears well up in your eyes as the lights fade. The backup dancers rush off stage, and you're pulled with them. You hadn't expected the sadness to hit you this soon after performing; by the time you're backstage with the members, your sight is blurry and your lips quiver.

"Whoa, whoa." Hoseok is over at your side in an instant, and Jimin cups your face between his palms. "You did great! Why are you crying?"

"You killed it," Jungkook agrees with a bunny-esque grin.

You shake your head fervently, brushing away the tears with the back of your hand. "It's not that," you murmur, and Taehyung wraps you in a back-hug. "It's not that at all."

That's all you have to say, and the others fall silent with understanding. Namjoon gives your shoulder a squeeze, and Jungkook offers you a bottled water.

"Drink slowly and sit down," the leader orders softly. "Hoseok and I are up next, but take it easy with the maknaes for a second, okay?"

Nodding your acceptance, you watch as the two oldest skip out towards the stage for another wild and passionate performance. Jimin grabs your hand and, threading his fingers through yours, ushers you towards the break area backstage. The music and crowds fade away, replaced by quiet.

Jimin kneels down in front of you, while Taehyung wraps you in a side hug. Jungkook grabs a small snack from the side table and insists you get some food into your system so the shakiness stops.

"We got you," the youngest of the three chides.

You give the brunet a grateful expression and take the chips from his grasp. It takes all your energy to focus on the three around you, in this moment, and not on the two that are absent. It'd taken you by surprise as you left the stage; you thought you'd come to terms with Seokjin and Yoongi being so far away. But after performing the song that poured out your emotions, you feel raw and exposed and drained. It's near impossible to tear your mind away.

However, eventually, you're calm enough to drink and eat a little, much to their relief. Blinking away the remnants of your tears, you heave a short breath and murmur, "Sorry...I don't know why I got caught up in that again."

Jimin's thumbs brush across your cheeks. "Don't be. It's always emotional performing a song for the first time. We should have warned you."

"And one of the members is always crying after a show," Jungkook chuckles. "So don't beat yourself up."

Taehyung adds, "It's almost always one of us."

The comments cause you to laugh, and the tension in the room dissipates. One of the producers pops her head through the door and says, "Jin's recording is up next. Are you still okay to go on stage?"

The boys turn to you, and you nod assuredly. Standing up, you drag them with you. The gentle squeeze your fingers give lets them know of your choice. They follow you without question.

It’s time to face the music.

And that’s what you keep telling yourself, time and time again, as the stage stands dauntingly ahead. Curtains and props rise up around you. Bombs light up the arena with their iridescent glow. Armys chant and sing, bringing your mind back to the present moment.

Despite the wondrous things you have seen the first day of the tour, despite being surrounded by five of your closest friends–men you consider your brothers, despite the great adventure that lies in front of you, the only thing consuming your mind at this moment is him. What you wouldn’t do to have him beside you, what you wouldn’t trade to thread your fingers through his, what you wouldn’t sacrifice to hear his angelic voice harmonizing with yours.

Then you hear it.

As if from a hazy dream, somewhere in the fog that is your mind you recognize the vocals that begin to play. Unlike most of the performance, this particular piece is a recording. You’ve lost count how many times you’d watched it, in your darkest moments when the heartbreak in your chest becomes too much to bear.

As you glance to the side, to the gigantic screen at the back of the stage, you see Seokjin’s face exactly as your memory promised. This recording isn’t one from a music video or short film, nor is it from the tour or live show from earlier last year. No, the Jin singing now is barefaced and adorned in an ocean blue sweater with an image of RJ on the chest. A guitar in hand, he sings in the privacy of your home, the one you shared for almost two years before he left. It’s intimate and beautiful and goofy, everything you love to death about the man himself.

And it brings a smile to your face when you hear the song he wrote for you.

A gentle hand grasps yours as the song nears the second chorus. Jimin stands at your side, a look of cautious worry on his makeup-enhanced features. He doesn’t say a word, but his expression tells you what he would say if the microphones weren’t turned on.

Are you okay? Are you holding up? Do you need a moment before we go on again?

Giving a small nod of reassurance, you squeeze the hand of your closest friend in an attempt to reassure him. Jimin nods once and rests his chin on your shoulder. Both of your gazes shift back to the screen, back to Seokjin, back to one of several people you miss more than the world.

You’ve made it 300 days thus far, but it breaks your heart when you remember that you still have 246 days yet to bear. No one should have to stay away from the one they love for 546 days.

At that moment, you pray even harder for the strength and courage to make it 246 more days.

But until then, you’ll keep repeating those six words over and over until your fear disappears.

It’s time to face the music.

Taglist — @joyful-jimin, @gracehiii, @live-2-fangirl, @rjsmochii, @btsnatalena

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theelliottsmiths · 4 years

Note

Could you please liveblog the making of Amerika?

Yes

I'm anticipating complaining about the penis zip guy already

Did you know that for a long time as a child I thought the English version was the real version? Cause I did

The bit where they're putting the paint on their faces is weirdly cute even though Richard looks kind of silly

Flake grow out your long hair pleaseee just like. A cute little bob again. I would listen to him talk for hours honestly I like the way he pronounced the words and his tone language doesn't matter

You can always tell by how he holds his face vs his eyes when he's joking "that's what this song is for: to sneak ourselves into their hearts" i feel like they have done that pretty well. For some reason it seems like most of the American fans are from the Midwest but maybe that's just coincidence

Rammstein saying they have no message except "Fleisch, Fleisch" or "ja" or "ich will" I forgot this entire thing is ceaseless dunking and sarcasm

i like the sounds he makes like the. There's a name for them what is it. The noises you make between words for emphasis etc? Those

"America was so fucking annoying we felt the need to call them out on it"

Oli talks a little like he's trying not to yawn. Them saying the war was on while they were in the practice room is strange considering how long the various wars had been going on just from like a born in the late 90s living in 2020 perspective

Ah yes you really were. So subtle. It's very. Clever many double meanings

"sehr gut, Till". :).

The sehnsucht thing tickles me so much he starts off by saying yes it's better to leave things up for interpretation and naturally my brain assumes he means the well thought out probably not true but poetic stuff, right, and then he goes on to say Americans thought sehnsucht was chainsaw and I cannot

The knife also is good.

In a way Amerika as a video is a precursor Ausländer and I like seeing how it compares because its

AS I WAS TYPING THAT OLI SAID THE WORD AUSLÄNDER

Oli does not seem happy to have his words captured At All

I wonder how many people did the Deutschland thing and went straight to saying it's racist without thinking through the reasons behind what they were doing (at least in part criticising American racism) I'm pretty sure l've seen someone complain about it somewhere like it was serious, I think on Reddit around the time the Ausländer Making of came out? Which is why I bring it up

"we wanted to make it clear that it wasn't a love song so these lyrics are perfect" Till: literally just saying this is not a love song

I would like to see them perform a cheer in proper cheerleader costumes instead of the uncomfy stickman Deutschland dance that makes me cringe my skeleton right out of my skin in 2021 please

The juxtaposition of Richards pro-america comments and flakes sarky comments about how nice the urinals are is so reminiscent of that post that's like America where freedom is the choice between thirty kinds of bread that you can't afford to buy

I was going to make a Regan's grave joke but I do prefer to keep that one for Margaret Thatchers grave

I like schneiders hair at this length

Schneiders capacity to oscillate so wildly between being a vacant dumbass and saying intelligent and thought out things is ceaselessly amazing

Saying it's hard because "it's like a punk concert for them" Jörn my guy my dude almost all of them were in punk bands I just checked and this was 2004 Feeling b only broke up in the 90s do you literally just mean Oli (I do not remember if there was any punk going on in the Inchtabokatables) or

Schneider is making it look so easy was he truly just so -_- about feeling b that he can be completely calm in the face drumming that fast? Cause we know usually his fast drumming involves screaming faces and or actual screaming I swear he does and it's just not hearable under the music sidenote he sings along sometimes and if he does it out loud I NEED to hear it

Richard when it's slowed down looks uh. Looks like he's eh. Hm. Is that the real reason people are so into guitarists?

I don't know which part of the sentence Glasses Paul says in that louder voice (schossen? Is he saying that/shot?) but I do like it if I knew more German I would take on way more Rammstein things as echoes you have no idea how much time I spend saying es reicht wenn hier so 'nen fleischfarbenen Draht lang legst which If that's wrong it's exactly what I was told he said so please correct it but it's not my fault unless you consider it my fault for not knowing enough German in which case it is my fault

But anyway yes hes Talking like its a museum tour and in his little glasses and shirt and everything he is totally playing the part of unhinged historian which is the best kind of historian honestly if you're going to be academic in nature you might as well be fucking mental

I want to know what vibes his speech gives off in German because to me he in English and German seems very theatrical in the way he talks? Including how much he rolls his rs it's very... Showy? But maybe not actually?

I forget how many videos Jörn has shot with them honestly

What do you do with this ash sand once your finished with? Some of them had kids I'd have taken it home and pretended it was real moon dust or something

They really go for it when they decide to do something like this and it really is admirable. It's rare they'll half-ass something and even when if feels like their director has they don't themselves

Richard looks very handsome in his space suit before they hang him up

Pretti

He looks like a marionette now nevermind

THIS FUCKER

I just. Do. Not. Enjoy this man I'm sorry to you and the mullet man I'm sure he's great but for fucks SAKE man he

TILL LITERALLY SAYS DONALD SUTHERLAND POINTS TO HIS DICK AND MIMES ZIPPING YOU KNOW WHAT HE'S FUCKING TALKING ABOUT SO WHY DO YOU LOOK SO CONFUSED

YOU TOLD HIM THE STORY YOU KNOW WHY HES SAYING DONALD SUTHERLAND AND POINTING TO HIS PENIS WHY ARE YOU SO GORMLESS

Look. I have nothing against Americans individually B is American Nick is American i love them dearly i know also other Americans a lot of you guys are Americans and I love you lots but here's the thing why are Americans like this

If it's not in English the brain turns off even if the context is obvious it's like when English people see Welsh/English signs and are so anti-welsh that they don't acknowledge that they're also in English and get angry that they don't know where they are

The sweetest little face though!

Softest boy ever besides Rosenrot Till

Till gets bored of the guy and decides to tell a story about a dick it's very him

This is the hair I think of when I think of Till this is the quintessential till haircut no?

God I do dislike this man

Tills voice is so so high here I adore him so completely it's so soft and high and the song is Not

If you're trying to learn how to say L sounds like a German I feel like richard is the easiest one to copy? Unless they're all weirdos and no other German says L sounds like that. Him and flake.

Flakes smile is more cheerful than Paul's there I said it

I know it's not foreshadowing but Jörn foreshadowing Ausländer

Richard talking about America's tendancy to exaggerate is really interesting since that's something the community as a whole seems to agree is a personality trait of his. They didn't fight, they almost broke up. He hates touring and yet he loves touring. Is that why he likes it there or is living there why he's like that?

Can you casually buy ten litres of orange juice? The boys are busy they cannot confirm and Google does not understand what I'm asking

Yeah Richard and Till, get closer

Knife

Schneiders handprint

I forgot about "there was a rumour in the DDR that America didn't exist" what is it with Germany and conspiracies about places not existing I'm there are tears in my eyes I genuinely I never watch this one flake is so fucking funny

Till talking pictures of the others

It's better than I give it credit for in my memory is there anything they've made that is in not a single way entertaining? I feel like no

Thank you for asking for this one it was every fun actually

#me rambling #rammstein #liveblog #amerika #complete liveblog

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iam-kenough · 4 years

Text

Will you ever notice me? (Arthur Morgan x Original Female Character)

MASTERLIST

CHAPTER 16

- I can't believe you are getting married, Marston. It's like pigs could fly - Iris chuckled, fixing John's tie. She should help at bride's tent but it was wild place to be since Mrs Grimshaw scolded everyone around, like it was matter of life and death, not happiest day of someone's life. So she decided to give an emotional support for groom, who was alone.

- Thank you for cheering me up - his voice was raspy - I am nervous as shit.

- Why? After all those years you are nervous to marry Abigail? - Iris threw him surprised look. She rested on clothes trunk, waving her legs in the air.

- She...she can still say no, right?

- You kidding me?! - Iris scoffed- You are made for each other! And I am happy to say I see you like this, it gives me hopes I'm gonna leave and marry someone properly.

- You mean Morgan? - he chuckled, 'cause it sounded ridiculous.

- Arthur? He would never marry someone, especially me! - Iris got the idea of what he was laughing about and smirked too.

- And where is he anyway?

- He said something about staying away from him so I won't spoil the surprise, he doesn't know what I'm gonna wear today. Just like you don't know with Abigail!

- Oh God, just when I forgot for a second - he groaned, burrying face in hands.

- It looks like Reverend Swanson is ready - Iris said peeking out of the tent.

- S-should I go? - John gulped, getting up like he was about to faint and get back on the floor.

- Go and get her - Iris patted John's arm to encourage him.

She slipped out of tent and looked around. It was almost like mother nature knew it's gonna be wedding tonight. Air was warm and smelled like pines, there were decorations made from white roses (it took girls ages to accomplish something like this) and lanterns, giving their camp look almost like from fairy tale. They moved their tents and wagons to make room on the grass for drinking and sitting around campfire and dancing.

Iris was wearing very pretty and very atypical dress. When all Ladies of Van Der Linge gang went downtown to search for dresses they found this small Parisian shop they would never go to if it wasn't meant to be for Abigail's wedding sake. At first, when she saw that dress Iris wasn't sure if it was right for her but it fitted like glove. The top was tight and had straps crossing on her exposed back, when the bottom half was A shaped, giving her this princess look as it was going down to the ground, fabric folding nicely. It had dark rich green colour. Iris's hair was braided in crown around her head and she was wearing bold, red lips. Even if she felt in this dress like a fool at first, lady in the shop convinced her that if someone should try it out, as a new fashion trend, it was meant for Iris and her sweet arms to try.

Right after ceremony took place she tried to search for Arthur but she couldn't see him. Guess he got bored with me for today, she thought. But the evening with friends still seemed fun. After few drinks and toasts she started feeling urge to have a cigarette, so when she spotted Dutch sneaking out for one, she followed, bumping into him right after one of wagons.

- Evening, can I have one please? - she giggled, balancing herself with drink in hand.

- Sure, help yourself - Dutch gave her thoughtful smile. Iris joined him, leaning against the wagon.

- What a beautiful night. Makes me feel like I was normal or something - she smirked, lighting cig up.

- Aren't you? You probably coming next - Dutch pushed her a little using shoulder, with friendly manner.

- I don't think so. No one would have me, I talk to much making men roll their eyes back into their heads with boredom and irritation.

- Forgive me my being nosey but Arthur and you..? - Dutch mocked her.

- You must be joking and not knowing man you raised to think he would ever marry some crazy brat. I guess his just having fun with me, even if I thought it's love at first. No strings attached.

- I was almost sure you are basically living together so I assumed things - Dutch rolled his eyes.

- Look, I can tell you the difference. There is John, cuddling with his wife and having a beer together. And then there I am, having a cigarette with you, Dutch when Arthur is nowhere around me since the start of this party. That's difference between love and fun.

- I think you were hopeless romantic by the books you read and songs you are humming all days..? - he dragged onto his cigarette.

- It's just books - she waved it away - Life isn't like this, especially ours! I am no good girl who's gonna get the best husband picked by her daddy. So I am holding onto something what makes me happy, even if it's silly.

- I really misjudged you then - Dutch said with mysterious smile playing on his lips as he left her to have the rest of cigarette alone. Iris was making small circles with smoke, looking into starry sky. She kinda felt dumb for thinking that Arthur would care about some stupid romance when it was his brother's wedding day. Because that what it was, silly. She started humming a song she overheard from campfire and her legs were tapping a rythm. She wasn't even thinking about being alone in the dark while others had fun.

- Hey, you - Arthur appeared from nowhere, which made Iris jump up with fear. He was wearing suit, and was clean shaved. It made Iris's heart skip a beat too.

- Jesus, I think it's heart attack - she hissed, hand agaist her chest.

- You hiding away from me? - he murmured into her ear and purred slightly - How dare you hide away when you look like this?

Arthur wasn't waiting long to drag her to the tent. He kicked apart her ankles and pulled dress up, just to soon after that rock her brain, pinning her doggy style against the trunks, pulling out successful quicky with her without being noticed as gone or disappeared. After all happened, Arthur turned Iris around and kissed on the temple, like he always did after rough sex.

- I-I love you - she exclaimed as she paced, burrowed in his arms. Iris was almost sure she never said it out loud before, she was just thinking this deep inside. Girl blushed, hiding face away from him, burrying it in the croock of Arthur's neck. So it was kind of confession in this crazy relationship.

- 'Fcourse you do, you are the most naive and pure creature I had met - he caressed her cheek with dark chuckle - No one else would be crazy enough to fall in love with me.

He didn't say he loves her back, Iris thought. That's sad.

- You are just lovable, I think it's that - she blushed briefly.

- Lovable? - he bursted into laugh, which made Iris head vibrate when her temple rested against his skin - I would never let myself fall in love with someone who's careless and cold like me.

Iris bursted into laugh too, he was kind of right. Arthur was an outlaw, dangerous and ruthless one, who was risking his life actively almost everyday for last 20 years or so. What he was saying made sense, but Iris felt little pin poking her heart, because that meant she also isn't on the best page in his records. She was cold and careless too.

- I think we should go - she whispered, trying to hold chuckle so she won't be looking like hurt idiot she just were - I'm sure everyone around noticed we're not there.

As they left the tent she noticed people are dancing in pairs, or thirds, laughing and fooling around. Iris decided to push her luck and ask Arthur if he would consider dancing with her a little. He was never much of a dancer and she usually were turned down by Arthur, even when Dutch's phonograph was playing something nice and slow, so they could just cuddle and rock to the tact. Iris turned around to say something but he weren't there, she bumped into someone instead.

I was searching for you everywhere - Mary-Beth squeezed her tight, amortising bump - I kind of fancy a dance with my little friend.

- Oh, that's very nice proposition! - Iris let Mary-Beth kiss her hand, pretending she's a man inviting her friend to dance.

- M'lady - Mary-Beth chuckled. She was beautiful tonight, Iris thought. Romantic dress in baby blue color suited her blond, curly hair and rosy complexion. Real lady.

They were dancing together, giggling and throwing each other looks like they tried to seduce each other. Mary-Beth was nice and warm and for short amount of time Iris was thinking that she wouldn't mind being with a woman somehow. Then they heard a gunshot and everyone froze in place.

It was matter of seconds as Iris understood what just happened. They were attacked, someone had to snitch camp was having a party tonight to hit at the moment they were most vunurable, drunk and dressed well, not fitting for a fight. Mary-Beth suddenly felt heavier in girl's arms and when she noticed hole between her eyes she screamed in panic. That bullet was meant for Iris and that was more than sure. Another gunshot and bullet flying above her head. She felt to the ground.

The terror begin, everyone throw themselves behind trunks, barrels and wagons. Iris stayed on the ground, crawling towards nearest cover, Mary-Beth's blood dripping down her face as it was on Iris's cheek. She crawled inside her tent and started grabing the most necessary things. It was mostly money, 'cause in this situation Iris considered that there might be an option that tonight she's gonna lose all her belongings. Part of them were on horse, guns attached to saddle, she had there winter clothes too.

Iris smelled burning wood and she bursted out of tent, with revolver in her hands. Pinkertons set they things on fire and her tent was the closest one to start burning. Iris was running around the camp, ditching bullets. Arthur, where was he?

- Arthur! Arthur Morgan! - she screamed at the top of their lungs. Suddenly she felt grip around her neck, as one of Pinkertons started choking her. She knocked him out by smashing his nose with back of her head. She felt like dress on her was ripping apart with her every move, not being very suitable for fighting man.

- Arthur! - she yelled in histeria, not sure if anyone heard her. Then she jumped in place as in front of her someone threw fire bottle and it cut her ways out, splashing oil leaving small marks on her skin. It was burning on her flesh.

Iris looked around, not being sure what to do. All she wanted was to feel Arthur's calloused hand and hear his furious voice. But life chosed for her, as all she could do was jump on her horse, which was neighing in terror and run, saving them both, or get shot burning in flammable oil at the same time. She tripped over her dress, tearing it completely and made her choice. With mad tears in her eyes she started galloping through the night. She's gonna find him tomorrow, it was better than get killed and not seeing him anymore again.

***

After hours of running away and taking random paths just to keep lawman off her back Iris was wrecked. She couldn't collect her head yet to analyse what just happened. If there was time she would look around the people faces. Snitch obviously wasn't there with them at time ambushed happened. Iris rested her head against horses mane and begin to sob. All she knew that she's parted from everyone she knew and it wasn't even sure they are still alive. Iris brushed it off, Arthur would never die such stupid death, girl knew him. Tomorrow she will run back and search for him under every rock on her path. She suddenly heard voices coming from the distance and galloping horses. On the road nearby there were lawmen, searching through area. Iris wasn't far enough, she thought. There is half state after her even if she paid her bounties on time. So she stirred up her horse and continued on galloping, in hope this night the hounds won't find the foxes.

Going north was here only choice. No one was crazy enough to go to far out there, as the snow was deep and avalanches could kill one just like that. But after all Iris was growing up there. She could handle it, right?

#red dead redemption arthur #arthur morgan rdr2 #arthur morgan #angst #arthur morgan angst #Arthur Morgan fluff #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x original femal character #arthur morgan x original character #Arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan romance #rdr2 #arthur morgan fanfiction

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vanchlo · 4 years

Text

The Firsts / #2 “The First Time Bringing Him Home”

*not my gif*

---> NEXT BLURB: I hope that I can put it out on October 19th, following the every other week rule, but I’m not sure with my busy schedule. Keep an eye out for updates on the series masterlist!

---> READ BLURB #1

READ THE ASSISTANT, AKA WHAT CAME FIRST

SERIES MASTERLIST

READ ON WATTPAD

-> SHOULD I CREATE A TAGLIST FOR THIS SERIES? IF YOU’D LIKE TO BE ADDED, LET ME KNOW! :)

LEGEND:

+ : a break in the story; a time jump.

italicized words : a flashback.

WARNINGS: None

WORD COUNT: 10.7k words (!!!)

SONG: And I Love Her by The Beatles (CLICK TO LISTEN)

* SNEAK PEEK, DUH BC ALWAYS *

“A tear collects at the corner of my eye, reminding me that at times like these, I expect to blink and it’ll all be gone. I wait for myself to wake up from the dream, and to have him ripped away from me, just like all of those other times he was. But it doesn’t, because how could my dreams beckon for me when my life was finally better than anything I could dream about?“

“She thinks that there’s one soul out there, just for her. One that will stay by her side forever and that someday, she’ll find it.”

- Kazuya Kujō, GOSICK -ゴシック-

“Are you kidding me?”

Groaning, I drop my purse in the doorway where it falls with a thud, and my quick steps echo down the hallway. “Harry Edward, I swear to God,” I mutter under my breath, narrowing my eyes at his laughing figure at the other end, but the happy sound only grows further and further away.

“What would you ever do without me?” I ask nobody aloud, coming to a stop in a patch of sunlight dancing through the tall window. Rounding his desk, I find his brown messenger bag that I still smile at every time, and begin to pack his stuff up.

Pulling open a drawer, I find his Macbook charger that I may or may not be stealing for the tenth or twelfth time. After the last of the unwrapped cord comes out, something pink flutters to the marbled floor. Huffing, I shove the charger into his bag and bend down to pick it up, smoothing down the end of my skirt against my bottom. The thought of standing back up comes to my mind, but as a hint of his recent Sage and Citrus candle trickles through the air, I stop at the words I see.

“Huh,” I sigh, my lips curling into my cheek as the writing on the Post-It clears before my eyes. A certain somebody’s handwriting that I could recognize instantly, but my noggin takes a moment to rouse the reason for this very note.

I hope your case went well today, Harry, and I’m sure it did because you’re so good at what you do. I just wanted to let you know that I really like working with you, and I’m so glad that I found this job, and more importantly, you. You’re one of my best friends, Harry, so thank you a lot for that.

Your Becks xxx

The space between my eyebrows softens when the jigsaw pieces click inside my head, but then it’s followed by the smallest of tears in my chest when I notice that my name is smudged. The paper all over has smudge marks, and looks almost crinkled, as if somebody spilled something on it . . or shed tears onto it.

“Oh, Harry. I hate to think what you did do without me,” I whisper, brushing my thumb over the note I wrote so many years ago, and yet, he still clung onto it. Standing back up, I clear my itchy throat and tuck the note back into the drawer where it sat in the little divider surrounded by coins and pink erasers.

“Can I help you with sumthin’?” a voice teases from the doorway. I almost jump when I hear it, the sleek wooden drawer closing without a sound.

“Yeah, you can stop making us late.”

“What, we’re not gonna be late, Becks.”

“We will if you don’t stop it with your Minnesota goodbyes,” I quip, draping the cloth strap over my shoulder and stepping forward.

“Whatever tha hell that means,” he titters with knitted brows, that breathy laugh escaping his lips to grace the air. He closes the distance between us and I feel zings of electricity on my forehead where his lips touch. “Here, gimme. I was jus’ sayin’ me goodbyes t’ My’ t’ make sure we’re all set with bein’ gone t’morrow and Monday, and you as well.”

“If you say so,” I exhale, letting him take the bag from me. Somehow, it only makes him all the more attractive, clutching onto it across his chest, clad in a teal and black paisley suit with a button up the color of raven feathers beneath.

“C’mon, brat. Let’s get this show on tha road then,” he complains ever so annoyingly, making me roll my eyes.

“Hey! Watch it, you’re on thin ice, bud!” I exclaim, whipping around to find him giggling after pinching my ass.

“Oooo, ‘m so scared!”

“Harry, hurry up already! I don’t want to hit rush hour traffic! What more do you need to bring? It’s only a three-four day trip,” I call up the staircase, my hands slapping against my thighs in impatience.

“‘m comin’! Would ya chill yer tits, woman? My God,” Harry chuckles, appearing around the corner of the staircase a moment later. Shaking my head, I catch sight of the large box wrapped in floral paper. “Don’t smile now, Becks. Dontchu’ smile, babe.”

Stifling a giggle, I turn around fast and thread my fingers through the cloth handle, “Dammit, Harry, what do you have in this bag? It weighs a ton.”

“‘s yer birthday presents, bug.”

“It is?” I ask excitedly after an intake of air. His steps stop in front of me, but I ignore him and push aside the fabric of the large reusable cloth bag.

“They’re wrapped, silly. Hey, you were gonna cheat and take a peek, weren’t you?!” Harry exclaims. Looking up slowly, I press my lying lips into a line and shake my head. His own pair rise to pinch his cheeks and now, it’s his turn to shake his head. “Naughty, naughty, Becks. Hmm, maybe I should jus’ leave ‘em here and you can open ‘em when we get back on Monday. Fo’get ‘bout openin’ ‘em up t’morrow mornin’ on yer birthday.”

“Harry, no!” I almost shout, but his stern look dissolves into a giggle. A spark ignites on my cheek when his thumb brushes along it, hooking his fingers into my hair.

“Don’t worry, sweets. I can hardly wait t’ give ‘em t’ you, let alone anotha few days,” he winks, and I feel my shoulders relax when I breathe out. “Now, let’s go put this in tha boot, and get goin’. Yer dad’s expectin’ us soon,” he hums, bending forward to sponge a kiss under my eye. I can’t remember when he had started doing that, but I smile at the feeling of his warm lips on my birthmark.

“Hey, what’d I say earlier?!” I argue a moment later, almost jumping into the air after he pinched my bum.

“I don’t care. Yer gonna be tha one makin’ us late now, if ya don’t hurry that cute bum o’ yers along.”

Giggling, I open his glossy, black front door to step onto the front stoop. Humming a tune, Harry helps me to get the heavy bag into the boot of his Rover, fitting it and his large box amongst his suitcase and my own. Things are shoved to the side, including his windshield scraper, a jumper or two, and his bag of workout clothes with his highlighter yellow Nikes spilling out.

“Becks, I get t’ pick this time!”

“No, you don’t. I don’t even remember who picked last time, but I got to your phone first. That’s the rule,” I return with a mischievous grin pointed towards him. Huffing, he adjusts himself in the driver’s seat before pulling the seat belt across his chest.

“Pick sumthin’ good please, and would ya plug me phone in then?”

“Sure, and wait, what do you mean? I always pick good music!” I say, turning to look at him as he presses the button to start the car.

“I love ‘Dancing Queen’ and ‘Bohemian Rhapsody,’ babe, but please, can we have sumthin’ different t’day? ‘s a three hour drive, I don’t wanna be listenin’ t’ those songs or bloody ‘Hannah Montana’ tha whole way.”

“You’re no fun,” I groan, finding the words I had just said feeling heavy in my throat when I see his lock screen. A giggly picture of us from the other night fills it, the first time I’ve seen it. Smiling, I unlock it regrettably, and find his Music Library.

“Alright, Ms. GPS, where am I goin’ exactly? ‘s been awhile since ‘ve been up this way, y’know,” Harry says, adjusting the air conditioner until it flows softly.

“Thanks for driving,” I tell him first, squeezing his hand and watching his eyes scan over to me. They instantly fill with the smile that follows on his face.

“Welcome, babe. Take all tha time ya need with gettin’ back t’ it. But, y’know, ya should start lookin’ fer a new car.”

“I don’t wanna talk about this right now, Harry-,” I begin in an upset tone, scrolling through one of his playlists.

“Ya, but I do. I don’t see why you won’t lemme help you pay-.”

“Harry, I can afford it, I’ll be fine. The settlement money will be enough for a used one,” I disagree, settling on a Haim song just to have something to listen to already.

I just hope it’ll help me tune out this impending argument.

“Ya, a shitty used one, Becks. ‘m not gonna let you drive ‘round an unreliable car, I-.”

“Well, I don’t remember needing to have your permission before I did something,” I retort, setting his phone down above the radio on the little mat, noticing his fingers darting around on the touch screen.

“That’s not what I said, Becks, y’know that . . Ya don’t ever need me permission t’ do sumthin’, I can’t believe ya’d think that ‘bout me,” Harry sighs, stabbing at the screen one last time before backing away from his closed garage.

Closing my eyes, I let my head fall against the window, regret pooling inside of me darkly. I try to swallow, but the words I want to say sit there, unsaid.

“I don’t think that about you, Harry, I-.”

“Then why fookin’ say that, Becks?” he spits back, harshly switching gears before zooming along as the directions are spoken to him.

“Because I’m upset and people say things they don’t mean when they’re upset, and I’m tired of-.”

“Doesn’t fricken ‘scuse what ya said, actin’ like ‘m controllin’ when ‘m not like that. You know ‘m not,” Harry grumbles under his breath, stopping suddenly in front of a changing stoplight.

“I’m sorry.”

“Ya well, what have you said t’ me befo’, huh? ‘Sorry doesn’t always cut it,’ ‘cuz y’know, it doesn’t mean a whole lot when it gets overused all o’ tha time,” he continues, a bite in his voice. I soon taste blood in my mouth and release my tongue, unaware I was taking out my frustration on it, as well.

“I don’t want your help buying a car, Harry, why can’t you just accept that already?” I almost explode, wishing I wasn’t, but the words were shoved up and away before I could stop them.

His sigh is automatic and unavoidable, as is the click of his tongue, “‘Cuz we’ve argued ‘bout this how many times, and ya still won’t tell me why not.”

“Fine, because I don’t want to take your help- your money. I-It’s just how I was raised, I don’t know. It’d be so embarrassing, Harry . . ,” I trail off, my voice growing small and choked.

“Oh, Becks,” Harry says in an exhale, lacing his hand with mine and pressing a kiss to it. “Ya don’t hafta be embarrassed, love . . I know that you’d pay me back, and however long it takes ‘s fine.”

“Thanks, but . . I don’t know. I don’t like ‘talking money’ with you, no offense or anything. It’s just . . weird with you being my boss and signing my checks, like you say. You know how much I make, and I know you pay me a little more than an associate because you like me.”

“‘m sorry I give you shit ‘bout tha check thing, but y’know that other part’s a bit o’ an understatement,” he wheezes, squeezing my hand in his. Breathing in, I move my head to look at him and watch his eyes turn to me and soften. “It ‘s. I liked you afta a few weeks o’ knowin’ you at tha firm, then I really liked you, and then I loved you.”

“Harry,” I say with a sigh, looking away and finding our laced hands sitting on his thigh, right where he always places them.

“What, ya aren’t gonna reciprocate me love?” he giggles, and I remain quiet. “‘s okay, love, ya don’t always hafta.”

“I love you too, but-,” I start, but cut myself off, just in time. Or, so I think.

“But what?” he asks, his indicator making a ticking noise while he switches lanes. It takes me a few moments to notice the absence of the music. I think that he’s lowered the volume, but then, I gather that he’s turned it off altogether. “Becks, what’re you thinkin’ bout?”

“Bug? Yer scarin’ me, what’s tha matter?” he says, hurrying through his words. My lips are dry when I swipe my tongue over them, but the landscape outside my window is anything but that. It’s green in between the buildings and the hot sun shines high in the sky.

“I feel like a burden to everybody . . the last few months . . ,” I admit in a small voice, focused on the sensation of him twirling a ring around my finger. An old one I had found in a drawer the other day, from my uni days with Skye. “What are you doing?” I ask hurriedly when I notice he pulls off the road onto the shoulder, and parks.

“Becks,” Harry says firmly, pressing his thumb into my hand, but it doesn’t wake me up quite yet. “Rebecca Holte, listen to me. No, I need you t’ look at me too,” he continues, cupping the side of my face and pressing on it until I look into his eyes overwhelmed with something. “You are not a burden t’ anybody, let alone t’ me. I love you, Becks, mo’ than I thought I could ever love somebody. Hell, mo’ than ‘ve loved anyone. Yer never a burden t’ me, ‘ve told you this fer years, and I wish you’d believe it, love. I really don’t mind givin’ you lifts t’ work, and I know Skye doesn’t either. How else would I know that you secretly love Miley Cyrus’ music, or ya still jam t’ High School Musical or The Lion King? I love ridin’ t’ work and home with you ev’ry day, I honestly cherish gettin’ that extra time with you. Sure, ya drive me nuts sumtimes with yer odd music tastes, but I love you fer that. I love you for yer stubbornness, even with this bloody car issue, ‘cuz I dunno if we’d be t’getha if it weren’t fer yer stubbornness. I love you fer how good you are with yer money, tha effort you make fer those you love, like spendin’ tha weekend at yer Dad’s fer yer birthday with Robbie. I love you fer yer dedication t’ anythin’ and anybody that you love - throwing Asher a surprise birthday party tha other week, or organizing that baby shower fer Rose next week. Yer amazing, you blow me off me feet ev’ry day with sumthin’ new ya did. You could never be a burden t’ me, yer tha complete opposite, bug. You make tha world spin ‘round fer me, always done that, you have. Ya make me excited t’ get up in tha mornin’, t’ be a lawyer, hell . . t’ be a person, and mo’ importantly, yer boyfriend and best friend. I never wantcha t’ think yer a burden, ‘specially t’ me, ‘cuz that’s tha last thing you are t’ me. I love you mo’ than I could ever begin t’ tell you,” Harry divulges and not for the last time do I feel like The Grinch, because it feels as if my heart has grown another size, or two.

His warm laugh dances across my head when I fall into his arms and pull him against me for once.

“Dontchu’ cry on yer birthday weekend now, bug,” he jokes against my temple, his lips making a smacking noise against my flushed skin.

My favorite song in the world fills my ears as his words from before drunken my mind with their never ending meanings. I never thought I could love somebody this much, either. Sorry, Skye.

Sniffling, I brush my hand against my itchy nose and peer up. His greens brighter than the grass outside my window peer down at me, softer than can be.

“I love you too, Harry, so much. I don’t know what more I can say after that,” I croon with happiness plastered across my face. “But, thank you.”

“Ya don’t hafta say anymo’, that’s mo’ than enough fer me, sweets,” he assures me, pressing his lips to mine. “‘m sorry ya didn’t get mo’ settlement money, ya would have if it was me who fought yer case.”

“How many times do I have to tell you that it’s okay?” I giggle and he nods with those dimples on full display for me. He nibbles at his bottom lip, leaving short white imprints amongst the rosy color. I sometimes still amaze myself at getting to run my fingers through his hair whenever I want to, like now. The clean, citrus smell of his new shampoo wafts over me as he smiles down at me, making me think all of my dreams have come true. Almost all of them.

“I know, bug, but it was disappointin’, tha settlement.”

“Your friend at Williams and Knox did great, Harry, and you couldn’t have argued it with your connection to me. Nobody at the firm could, seeing as how I work with them,” I explain to him, my thoughts brushing over the redundancy of it all.

“‘ll tell ya what, I have an ol’ mate who works with cars, and I bet he could knock off a few grand fer me-.”

“Harry!” I begin to protest, but it’s soon whisked away by the softness of his lips against mine. Our giggles tickle the others, and his hand is cold against my hip when he slides up my shirt. “I don’t want you to-,” I start again after he pulled away, but he dives back in for another kiss. Now, I don’t really care if we happen to be late.

“Ya gonna stop arguin’?” he wheezes after ending the kiss, brushing the tip of his nose against mine. My lips part and he raises his eyebrows in response, making me nod moments later. “Good. Now, as I was sayin’, he owes me a favor so ‘ll see what I can do ‘bout gettin’ you a new car. Actually, I think a lease would be best fer you.”

“But, Harry, new cars are too expensive and the insurance as well, and-.”

“Hush,” he whispers against my lips, soon letting me taste his coconut chapstick for the third time in the last minute. Then again, time has seemingly gone out the window these last few minutes, and I couldn’t care if I tried. “I really do think ‘d be best. Ya, insurance would be higher, but then ya have a new car, guaranteein’ no problems, and if there are, tha dealer place fixes ‘em free o’ charge. Inna few years, ya can buy it, or trade it in and sign another lease.”

“Okay, Mr. Convincing Lawyer, you do have a few good points,” I at last agree, watching his sixty-watt smile only grow brighter at my surrender.

“Yer music t’ me ears, y’know that?”

“Ditto,” I say, smiling up at him.

“Maybe if ya continue t’ be good and give a li’l less lip at work, ya jus’ might get a raise when it comes t’ yer six month review next week,” he jests with a lift of an eyebrow, a shit-eating grin plastering his lips. “Reckon that’d help with tha car, bug.”

“Is that so, Mr. Styles?”

“Mmmhmm, it ‘s indeed, Ms. Holte,” Harry answers, but I ignore him and choose to get lost in his lips, and the baby curls on the back of his neck.

A Paul McCartney song hums around us, the soft twang of acoustic guitar filling the holes as buildings pass on by. Yawning, I shuffle my feet in front of me and tip my head against the window. The song comes to a gentle end before a Bowie song follows, and I find my thigh warmed by his touch. I lose myself in the lyrics as his thumb leaves circles through my jeans first above my knee, then higher, and higher. Turning away from the window, I peek a look at him to find him biting at his nails while focused on the road.

“Stop biting your nails,” I whisper, my hand falling onto his and dragging it back towards my knee. It’s difficult, but I hold back the grin begging at my lips when I watch him blink with emphasis.

“Stop movin’ me hand. Y’know what, it took me tha last ten minutes t’ get that high,” he retorts without moving his eyes from the traffic in front of us.

“Why are you trying to get so high, huh, Mr. Styles?”

“Yer not helpin’ things by callin’ me that. Y’know how I feel ‘bout you callin’ me it,” Harry sighs, his thumb falling from his lips, and he turns on his indicator. After switching lanes, he reaches into the middle compartment and offers me a stick of gum before shoving a piece into his mouth.

“And how do you feel about me calling you that?”

“Stop,” he says, turning his head to look me straight in the eyes when a light has turned red. “Playin’ dumb, Becks.”

I avoid his eyes with a giggle and peer out at the landscape where buildings soon become far and in between, knowing how it gets to him and in a good way. His tsking tickles my ears and I shove his hand away, sure I’ve only made matters worse. The next few songs tick Queen off the list, as well as The Stones, and Simon and Garfunkel before a Beatles song follows.

“Penny Lane is in my ears, and in my eyes,” the radio sings back to us while Harry cruises at a steady 68 miles per hour. His distracted humming along eggs me on, and without a thought more, I slide my hand across the divider and onto his thigh. If he noticed, he didn’t say anything, and when I glance over, he’s blowing bubbles between singing along. “And in his pocket is a portrait of the Queen. He likes to keep his fire engine clean . . ,” he nods to the words, and smacks loudly on his gum. I take the chance and slowly lift my hand from the warmth of his leg, and find another spot a little higher up.

“Yer cheatin’,” is all he says while sitting back further and adjusting his hand on the wheel.

Huffing, I look away guiltily and try my darnedest to hide the smile blooming on my lips, “I am not.”

“Yes, you are. Only slidin’, no liftin’, Ms. Holte. Start over, then.”

“Fine,” I groan, replacing my hand to above his knee where I had begun in the first place. His chuckle irritates me, but when he picks up my hand to press a kiss to, I find it hard not to melt next to him.

Throughout the next few songs featuring Jagger, Backstreet Boys, and McFly, I don’t get very far. I hardly beat my record when he picks up my hand and places it back at the starting point.

“Harry!” I exclaim in annoyance, turning to face him. His dimpled cheeks round out with a pink smile. “No fair, I almost won!”

“Ya, and ya were gettin’ a li’l too close t’ me junk, y’know.”

“That’s the point of the game, silly!” I argue but it only collapses into a laugh that he reluctantly echoes. “We don’t actually . . touch each other, you know that.”

“What’re you talkin’ ‘bout? You did jus’ tha other day!”

“Stop it!” I whine, crossing my arms over my chest and facing the window once more with hot cheeks. With my face smushed into a line, I find only a few bits of relief when my forehead meets the cool glass of the window, wishing I hadn’t heard those words. “Don’t,” I mutter when he pries at my stubborn arms that coax me back together.

“Babe, I was jus’ jokin’ with you. It was only an accident, ya don’t still hafta feel bad ‘bout that, Becks,” Harry insists, but the harmless giggle feels anything but that when it interrupts the new Busted song.

“I would if you’d stop bringing it up! You know that I’m never going to hear the end of it from Skye, and now, you too!”

“Bug, it was funny. We all agreed it was, ‘s nuthin’ t’ be ashamed of still, I promise you.”

“Oh, hush,” I say through gritted teeth, shaking off his hand only to hear his depressed sigh.

His voice grows low, and somehow, I let his hand remain when it graces the round of my knee, “I didn’t mind y’know, ‘s rather flatterin’ actually-.”

“Would you shut up about it, please? I touched your crotch the other day, I know because I was there, and it was in front of Skye. I almost died from embarrassment when it happened, and if you don’t stop bringing it up, I actually will die from embarrassment and it’ll be all of your fault.”

“Becks, chill out, babe,” he titters, the emphasis held in his hand that tries to rub the worries away, but I remain pouting. “Stop it with tha poutin’, love, ‘s not lost on me. It was an accident that ‘m sorry I keep givin’ ya grief fer. I like our li’l game, and I know ‘s harmless. Maybe one o’ these times ‘ll make it up t’ you and let ya win.”

“Stop talking already, you know I hate it when you let me win.”

“Young lady, ya better stop it with tha whining, cuz yer stuck with me for tha next three-four days, and ya best bet ‘m stealin’ all o’ tha covers,” he gripes, and I at last look at him with my body too.

“Harry Edward, you will not!”

“I will too, ‘specially if ya keep on poutin’ ‘bout that thing, ‘s not worth it,” he insists, pulling free one of my hands to lace with his one, and smatter the skin of with kisses. “I jus’ hope ya like what ya felt, but ya should know, ‘s mo’ impressive when ‘s hard.”

“Harry, would you stop it?!” I shout, yanking my hand away from him and shrinking against the window with a shiver. “You’re gross.”

“What, like ya haven’t thought ‘bout me dick befo’?” he wheezes with that breathy laugh I’m trying not to love right this moment. Sighing, I close my eyes and try to focus on the song, but it’s becoming too difficult as his words spring a leak in my mind.

This little ‘game’ of ours had started shy of a few weeks ago, and I can’t even remember why really. One of us had started laying our hands on the other’s thigh and as a joke one night, I think after some drinks, I got a little handsy and tried to see how far I could slide my hand without him noticing. It’s become a competition ever since and harmlessly, given the fact that a few steamy makeout sessions as of late hadn’t progressed to anything besides that. Running across some old photos the other night with Skye when backing up my phone made me realize again just how lucky I’ve gotten with him. The man I never thought I’d be able to love, and here I am, embarrassed because my boyfriend is talking about his dick that may or may not occupy my thoughts at times.

God, if I could tell Past Becky that sometime in the near future sh-we may get to see Harry naked, she wouldn’t believe me, or the fact I probably get to sleep beside him the next few nights with him wearing nothing but shorts. I can’t decide which outweighs the other, the excitement, or the fear of the f- that kind of future.

“No,” I whine, continuing to comb through the contents, despite the fact that I already know that it’s not there.

“Yer bedroom ‘s cute, y’know. Look at all these posters, I love ‘em. Bloody hell, ‘s that a Scooby Doo stuffie? Powerpuff Girls too?” he giggles from across the hallway, and I hear things being moved around. “Becks?”

“I know I packed it, what the heck?”

“What’s tha matter?” Harry coos, coming up from behind me and circling his arms around my waist.

“I forgot to pack a razor.”

Apparently, he finds that very funny, because within seconds he’s laughing, “Why ya frettin’ over a razor, bug? We’re only here three nights.”

“Because . . I didn’t want my legs to be prickly when we sleep together,” I reveal softly, and that sweet sound of his returns, soon muffled against my hair.

“I honestly don’t care if yer legs are hairy t’night, or t’morrow, or tha night afta that. I never have, love. But, if it really matters t’ ya, ya can borrow me razor. Lemme find it.” Facing him, I watch as he picks up his small, black toiletries bag and plucks a silver handled razor from it. “Here.”

“Uh, no thanks. Forget I asked,” I rush, occupying myself by grabbing my toothbrush and toothpaste from the bag to set on the counter beside his gray one.

“What, why ya look scared, Becks? Ya never used a safety razor befo’ or summat?”

“No,” I reveal slowly, untwisting the cap of the white tube, and squeezing a dollop of the blue gel onto my toothbrush.

“‘s really not that bad, I promise you. I like it better, doesn’t gimme razor burn and goofy bumps, or ingrown hairs as much.”

“I’m fine, no thanks,” I mumble with the toothbrush in my mouth as I move it around, scrubbing my teeth.

“Becks, c’mon. Really, ‘s not that bad. Hey, why dontchu’ help me shave t’night, and that way you’ll learn how t’ use it. Reckon ‘s easier t’ use on yer legs, not havin’ all tha contours o’ yer face and jaw t’ nick.”

“Really?” I ask, placing a hand against the cool countertop, and facing him. “Wait, but I like your stubble and it was just coming back after you had shaved.”

“I leave the upper lip area and chin, but tha cheeks get patchy, so I shave those. I guess yer gonna hafta put up with tha stache again.”

“That’s okay, you know I like it. You’d really trust me to shave your face?” I respond, turning on the sink and filling a cup with water.

He nods, and with an eager smile, fishes out the large tube of shaving gel from his bag.

“What if I cut you?” I almost whine moments later, with the heavy handle in my hands.

“Babe, ya won’t, and if ya do, I won’t be mad. Rememba, like I showed you - forty-five degree angle, short strokes, and tha lightest pressure. Rinse every few strokes under tha tap. You’ll be fine,” Harry insists with the emphasis placed in his rising eyebrows. “Promise you that I trust you.”

“Okay, I’ll try it a few times, but that’s it. If I don’t like it, I don’t want to continue. I don’t want to hurt you, Harry.”

“Ya won’t, bug. This ‘s how ya learn, anyways. Now, c’mon, give it a go,” he coos, pulling me closer to him by his hands pressed to my hips.

Exhaling, I lift my hand and leave a gap of air in between the safety razor and his cheek covered in the white foam. Tilting it like he had said to do, I wait for him to open his mouth to pull the skin taut. I go with the grain and pull the razor along with short strokes, listening to his encouragements as his cheeks slowly reappears before my eyes.

“God, you look like a baby like this. I’ve always wondered what you looked like as a teenager, I want to see more pictures.”

“Noted, ‘ll hafta have me mum bring some over next time,” he replies and I nod, being careful when his face slopes with his cheekbones, but I save the jawline for him to do.

Goodness, Becky, you’re shaving your boyfriend’s face. Sometimes, I still catch myself when I call him that, Harry.

“Bloody hell, ‘s yer dad good at cribbage. I thought I had that last game 'til tha end there,” Harry chortles from across the hallway. Nodding to myself, I flick off the bathroom light, and stop in the doorway to find him snuggled under the covers of my childhood bed. Talk about a sight for sore eyes.

“I told you that I learned from the best,” I reply, closing my door softly and then getting the light. Dashing across the room, I almost jump onto my bed.

“Come warm me up, bug, ‘m freezin’ with that fan on,” Harry says, his teeth chattering, but I wonder if it’s only for the comical effect. “And then, God, what he said when we brought our suitcases in.”

“What’d he say again?” I ask, burying myself underneath the plain, gray comforter, and draping the rainbow colored quilt on top.

“How could ya forget, Becks?” he chuckles from beside me, the sound surrounding me when I place my head on his chest. His laughs continue and grow deeper over the next several seconds whilst I get comfortable under the blankets and his arms find their way around me. “Hey, Dad, where should Harry sleep? Have him sleep with you in yer old bed, I’m not getting any younger y’know, I want some grandkids soon, and Robbie isn’t looking too promisin’.”

“I can’t believe he said that either, I could have died from embarrassment right then and there,” I comment, my laugh joining his to echo around the room. His chest and belly shake and then squeeze beneath me as I nuzzle my head into the middle of his chest.

Little old me had nearly all of her dreams granted after I kissed this fellow, including getting to feel his toned body any time I want to, or lay my head between his solid pecs. Christ Almighty.

“Once again, ev’rybody, but us, thinks we’re havin’ sex,” Harry says, his laugh seemingly not going anywhere. My cheeks warm at his words and I wish that I could bury my head deeper into him, but I only feel the lukewarm metal of his cross necklace against my cheek.

“Hey, that’s not too bad of a deal. We didn’t have to do anything, and people think we are.”

“You have a silly mind, li’l one. I mean, I don’t care what people think, but I wish our parents would stop askin’ fer grandchildren, seein’ as we’ve only been t’getha four months,” Harry giggles, and I nod, remembering my dad missing vague and going straight to obvious when he said he was traditionally named after his father. His elbow into my side didn’t help his case, either.

Suddenly, a disturbing thought whisks my laugh away and I don’t find the joke very funny, anymore.

“Why aren’t you laughin’, hmm? Here, then - it was funny when he hinted he wants a grandson named afta him. Our parents really are obvious, aren’t they?” Harry chirps, and I nod silently, only now noticing the callused tips of his fingers dancing along my arm. “‘m sorry, I overplayed tha joke, didn’t I? ‘s not too funny afta a few goes, ‘s it?”

“No, you’re fine,” I say, but the thoughts kicking up dust in my head don’t feel very fine. No, they don’t make me feel ‘fine’ at all.

Why is it that she always has to ruin everything, ever since I was little? Even now, with her well out of my life, she’s still there despite the fact she’s not . . here.

“What ‘s it, Becks? Did I say sumthin’ wrong, love?”

“No, it’s not you, Harry. I don’t know, just overthinking things,” I reveal, letting my hand rest on the curve of his bicep, wishing I could see his tattoos in the dark to trace them. I know that that wouldn’t make them go away, though.

“Wanna talk ‘bout it, or jus’ go t’ bed?”

“I dunno,” I almost laugh, wishing this was ironic and that it was still funny. But, it’s not. “It’s hard to think about being a mum and mine not being there for it. I know that’s how I’d want it to be, though. It’s just . . hard, knowing how much other mums rely on that and enjoy getting to share the experience with theirs.”

“Oh, love, ‘m so sorry. I didn’t mean it like that,” he pipes up, resting his head against mine, and I welcome the closeness.

“I know you didn’t, it was just my thoughts stirring up ‘what if’s.”

“Hey, ‘m sure when ya get t’ know me mum betta and Gemma, that me mum would be happy t’ step in fer that role, and me sister too. I already know with Gem that me mum would be all over my babies, and she’s a wonderful grandmother. I only wish she lived closer, but she’s always joked if I had kids, that that’s what would take her t’ move t’ London,” he says into my hair, and I nod into his smooth skin, my cheek tickled by his chest hair.

“Gemma must have been annoyed with that,” I titter and he agrees.

“‘ve thought ‘bout it too, y’know. Me dad‘s ‘round fer Harper and Ollie, but I dunno if ‘d ever want him ‘round my kids. He fooked up things with me, so why would I let him do tha same with me kids? I don’t want them wonderin’ why their granddad doesn’t come t’ their birthday party this time but did tha last, or t’ see us have a row . . It makes me sad, but y’know, ‘m glad we can relate t’ each other on this stuff, whatta load o’ rubbish it all ‘s.”

“Me too, Harry,” I breathe, tracing the shape of his necklace as his heartbeat thuds in my ear. “I can’t ever see things changing with my mum, but maybe it could with your dad someday . . It’s a good thing we’re not having kids anytime soon, huh?”

“Ya, reckon so, but ‘m already thirty, Becks. Time’s a tickin’ fer me in that father department,” he shares gently, and I wish I could see his eyes and lose myself in them, and maybe drag him along for the ride too. It’s all that I can think of to get rid of the sour remnants of this conversation, one that’s all of my fault.

“Oh, hush. My dad was thirty-four when he had Robbie and I, so you’ll be fine.”

“Ya, but I dunno, rather sure ‘d want kids soon afta gettin’ married,” he hums happily, a longing for the future in his voice. Boy, is it contagious. “Prolly within tha year.”

“Okay, would you chill it with the future talk? As you just said, it’s only been four months, Harry,” I laugh, nervously. A similar sound rumbles through his chest as he hugs me in his arms, smattering kisses along my head.

“Well, maybe four months will turn into forever one day, ya never know, bug,” he says with a lilt in his voice, teasing dripping from it. “C’mon, ya don’t know yet whether or not ya wanna be my Mrs. Styles one day?”

“I can tell what your answer to that question is,” my answer comes out in between apprehensive laughs, my cheeks surely scarlet against his skin.

“I never reveal me secrets, Becks,” he whispers, as if I don’t know it by now. “So, will ya marry me one day?”

“I’ll have to think about it . . ask again in a few months, weirdo.”

The streams of sunlight tease at my eyes while a sensation tickles my neck. Groaning, I shuffle my legs under the covers but they don’t get very far, knocking against another hairy pair.

“Wake up,” somebody coos softly into my ear, followed by a stream of gentle kisses down my face. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to pull the covers higher, but they don’t budge. “Becks,” they say, dragging out the sound of my name as they rub circles into my stomach.

I lay there for a little while longer, dipping in and out of sleep, amongst the sound of my name and indiscernible humming. The next time I open them, the sun is beating through the window and the standing fan whirs along. A pair of arms is secure around my waist, and although used to it, I feel somebody’s prickly stubble against my cheek. I smile into the soft kisses pressed along my face and then a last one to my nose. “Wake up, Boops, ‘s yer birthday. ‘s my baby Becks’ birthday t’day,” Harry croons and I feel his cheeks rounding out from a smile against mine.

“Mmmmm, my twenty-seventh birthday,” I reply, stifling a yawn. They reply with an ‘mmmhmm’ before they hide their face in my neck. “And I get to spend it all with you,” I hum, my thoughts waking me quickly. It’s black and white from my birthday last year, pining away for him as he loved somebody else and ignoring his presents.

No matter how hard I could try, I wouldn’t be able to remember how long it’s been since I’ve had a birthday as good as this one already is, and undoubtedly will be.

“‘m so glad I get t’, bug, ‘s ‘bout time,” he yawns from behind me, stirring under the covers. I whine when his leg moves away from mine and takes its warmth with him. “I didn’t imagine ‘d be wakin’ you up in yer childhood bed, but here we are,” he giggles. “Tha first o’ many birthdays spent t’getha, babe.”

“Yeah,” I reply distractedly, propelled back to this day last year and how robbed I felt of a day that was supposed to be all about me and being happy. That was the last thing I was, it seemed, and it’s like a different life to think about that while Harry kisses the hollow below my ear. My boyfriend, who kicks off a blanket with a groan, a laugh rising from my lips as he complains about being hot.

“‘ve taken off all tha clothes I can and ‘m still bloody boilin.’ God, Becks, could ya be any mo’ o’ a heater, love?” he sighs and I only reply with a loud laugh that grows when his hands roam my body to tickle me. I find his sleepy face painted with a smile when I turn around to face his naked upper half, and it makes me wonder how he could ever be any more perfect than he already is. “What? ‘m sweatin’ over here,” he wheezes, carding a hand through his mess of curls while his eyes shine back at me.

“Nothing, I just . . “

“You jus’ what, love?” he murmurs, threading his fingers into my hair and stroking it away from my face.

“I just, really love you,” I confess, watching the contentment blossom on his face to almost embarrassment.

“I love you too, Rebecca Ann,” Harry beams with that contagious smile again, dipping forward to peck me. “More.”

“No, I do!” I protest, fingering his gold cross necklace that’s warm in my fingers. “I love you most! There!”

“Okay, okay,” he titters, batting a hand at me before pulling me into his chest. “‘ll let you have it, but only cuz ‘s yer birthday, my love,” he coos, surrounding me with his arms and covering my head in kisses.

I silently roll my eyes but I know he hears my huff, “Don’t be a pout on yer birthday, jus’ be happy ‘m lettin’ you get yer way with e’rythin’,” he remarks, muffled against my cheek where his warm breath wafts over me.

“Everything, you say?” I tease, and his intake of air eggs me on.

“Oh, what d’ya want now?”

“Hey, it’s my birthday. I get whatever I want on my birthday, isn’t that what I told you on yours?”

“I don’t rememba those exact words, but yes, my girl can have whatever her heart desires on her birthday,” Harry responds softly, his eyelashes leaving butterfly kisses against me. “What ‘s that li’l brain o’ yers cookin’ up now, huh?”

A laugh peeks out from my lips and he groans in response as I ready my proposal, sure he’s falling back asleep in my arms.

“A baby,” I divulge, and begin to count the seconds after the words have met the air. 1 . . 2 . . 3.

“‘Scuse me?” Harry exclaims, pulling away from me and looking at me with a wild pair of eyes. I find it so hard to hold it back when his green eyes widen further, accompanied by a sudden pallor to his face. “Rebecca Ann-,” he begins adamantly, but the moment the chuckle pours from my lips, he stops. “Woman, I swear- Jesus Christ, ya really are gonna gimme a heart attack one o’ these days.”

“The look on your face, Harry! I wish you could’ve seen it,” I giggle profusely, only fed by the crimson appearance of his cheeks as he shakes his head.

“You li’l smart ass, you,” he tuts, swiftly flipping onto his back and pulling me on top of him. “Y’know, ya kinda hafta be havin’ sex in order t’ have a baby, love, sumthin’ that doesn’t quite exist fer us yet,” Harry remarks with the cutest double chin from below me. I adjust myself lying on top of him so I’m not crushing his lungs, or well, his baby making junk.

“Not yet, anyways,” I murmur with a smirk, enjoying the squirming he does at my words. He giggles and covers his face with both of his arms, exposing as well as hiding some of his tattoos.

Propping my chin on my hand, my elbow finds a place on the mattress as my finger finds its way to his chest. I trace the numbers in my handwriting above his heart, so entirely grateful for this year and mostly all that it’s brought along with it.

“Maybe one day I’ll have a baby with you.”

I hear his wheezy laugh and the happy sigh, because they live inside of me too. His greens are stuck on me from between his peeking hands when I look over and my smile brightens.

“If we’re havin’ kids, ‘s gonna be mo’ than one, ‘ll tell ya that right now, missy.”

Somehow, my lips spread even wider, “How many then, Mr. Styles?” I pose aloud with a raise of my eyebrows at him.

“Five.”

“Harry!” I exclaim and he giggles from behind his hands that his eyes peek out from. At last, he drops them and peers across at me, making me believe in the cuteness that is triple chins. “Five children? Five mouths to feed, lunches to pack, activities to put them in, bedrooms, pairs of shoes, car seats, bums to change, new school clothes and well, new everything every year, and five babies for me to push out of my crotch?”

That really gets him going and soon, a deep chuckle rumbles through his chest and from his lips, but I really couldn’t be complaining. It sparks one from mine too, and only makes me think of what it would be like to do this with him every morning. One day, with a swaddled baby lying to the side, or on his chest. What have I started now?

“Yes, five . . Five kids t’ cuddle, make memories with, take on adventures, introduce Harry Potter t’, bake and cook with, watch grow and do great things, have mosey into our bed at night, maybe teach guitar or piano t’ one or two, teach ‘em so many things, and I hope they all have yer eyes and yer laugh . . Can you imagine all that love, Becks?” Harry says, dreaming aloud with an effervescent look in his eye that I’ve only seen a few times before. “Hey, don’t you do that on yer birthday,” he tuts, but I’ve already started and go to sniffle into the crook of his neck. “Did I say sumthin’ wrong? ‘m sorry if ‘s too soon and-.”

“No, you said everything . . right,” I whisper against his neck, the absence of words letting me feel how it moves with every tick of his pulse. Gulping, I wait for him to answer, but I get it when he begins to hum our song amidst running races up and down my back with his hand.

“Maybe one day- Wait, no. Not ‘maybe,’ hopefully one day,” Harry coos as I stare into the darkness, but this time I’m not afraid or fleeing. I could never feel anything but safe in his arms, and I know our children would too. “Mmmm, ‘m lovin’ tha cuddlin’, but holy shit, am I warm!” he continues, our skin sticking together as he separates from me between our laughs.

After a few trips to the bathroom between us, Harry plops onto the bed and pulls me onto his lap. His lips sponge kisses along my cheek and his arms surround me, almost swallowing me with their span.

“Well, are ya jus’ gonna stare at ‘em or go and open ‘em, bug?” he coos, the hairs on the back of my neck lifting at his words tickling my neck. Turning my head, my excited eyes connect with his, and he nods. “Go already,” he says, kissing me before I leave his arms.

“Which one first?” I ask, crossing the bedroom to kneel in front of the line of gifts set before my dresser and our suitcases.

“Whichever yer li’l heart desires,” he answers. I grab one of the smaller ones and look over to him. “Savin’ tha biggest one fer last, I see.” He folds his hands together, his long arms already turning golden this early in the summer, and so are his legs that his arms drape across.

Giggling, I stand up and make a few trips to bring the presents to the bed.

“Openin’ ‘em up here, are we?” Harry asks with dumbfounded astonishment gracing his tired features.

“Mmmhmm,” is all I say as I settle onto his lap again, and relax when he wraps me up inside of his embrace. Tipping my head to rest on his shoulder, I stare down at the pink and purple flowers that branch across the crisp wrapping paper, and suddenly, it’s like for the second time.

I’m not going to let it happen again. No, not sitting on the floor with his presents before me, and him so far away, if only a few steps. His chest rises and falls with rhythmic breaths and I remain there, moving my ear until I hear the song his heart plays, needing this to feel all the more real. A tear collects at the corner of my eye, reminding me that at times like these, I expect to blink and it’ll all be gone. I wait for myself to wake up from the dream, and to have him ripped away from me, just like all of those other times he was.

But it doesn’t.

I blink and the tear falls, and his lips rest in my hair, waiting for me. His large hand leaves waves and blossoms against my back, and hopes and promises. I make them too, just as silently against him. I promise myself that I’ll never give up on him, and although he doesn’t know, I promise that to him too.

“Open it up, bug, what’re you waitin’ fer? ‘m dyin’ with anticipation here!”

Smiling, I lift my head and don’t waste any time finding his lips with my own, just because I can. He moans a sound against mine and holds onto me, and I know that he would never let me go, either.

No, not again.

“What was that fer?” he breathes half a minute later, staring deep into me.

“Just ‘cause,” I respond and he only smiles back at me, but then he tips his head to meet mine, resting his forehead on mine. He winks and brushes his nose against mine a few times in a different kind of kiss.

“I hope I get anotha one o’ those afta ya open yer presents.”

“We’ll have to see about that, Mr. Styles,” I grin and he amplifies it with a snort, bumping his shoulder against mine to remind me of the present I hold, and his affable impatience.

Wrapping paper still litters the floor, so do purple bows, and Amazon boxes. The shadows of our mingled laughs pepper the air as his hair falls through my fingers, and his slow breaths are whispers against my skin. I let my head fall and my hair dance across his skin before my lips do, ever so gently.

“Sweet dreams, love,” I barely whisper, careful to leave the bed without waking him. At the last second, I turn back and pull the comforter and quilt up his thighs covered in gray shorts, and past his bare shoulders. He’ll need it with his personal heater gone from his side, I think.

Tip toeing across the room, I take careful steps around the pile of presents still sat by our suitcases. The elation and disbelief comes over me in another wave when I see them one by one, starting with the lilac colored Kitchenaid mixer.

“Ya need it fer yer bakin’, love. I know tha kneadin’ part o’ recipes ‘s a bore, and yer handheld one was almost shot. We both know that. Maybe ‘m tellin’ you t’ bake fer me mo,’ I dunno,” he had laughed after my jaw had fallen to my chest, and his faced turned a proud crimson.

“We’re already halfway in, might as well make sure we have tha whole boxset fer when we wanna rewatch it,” Harry told me after I had opened the large box with the five Friends’ faces on it, assuring me that it was just as much a present for him as it was for me. He had kept making it known that that was the theme, so I would stop complaining about him spoiling me too much.

“I can’t take any credit fer that one, which ‘m quite sorry ‘bout, but mum wanted t’ knit ya sumthin’. Told her ya loved blankets, and here we are. Reckon I might have ya keep it at mine so I can steal it too,” runs through my head as I once again rub the chenille type yarn between my fingers at the end of the bed where the knit blanket lies. With a proud grin, I grab two corners and drape it over the sleeping man in my childhood, twin-sized bed, a dated McFly poster hanging over his head.

“This one’s jus’ as much fer me as it ‘s fer you, too,” he kept saying, then for Paul McCartney’s second show at the O2, and then for another pair of tickets to his daughter Stella’s fashion show in just a few weeks.

The same phrase, give or take a few words, flowed from his lips when the bag of candles graced my hands. He explained that we nick so many candles from each other’s offices that it was only natural that he bought me some, seeing as how he’d be stealing some here soon, especially the Tobacco Vanilla, Whiskey Cedar, Sage and Lemon, and the highly coveted Cinnamon Roll one.

The cribbage board was just a bonus, him claiming that he could finally bring his office one home and keep mine at work for us to play on.

What he couldn’t claim his rightful ownership to as well was the card full of unintelligible scribbles from Harper and Ollie, that thank the Gods, Gemma helped them write. The tears in my eyes since the first present grew and grew, and didn’t waver at the message of how Harper wanted to have a sleepover at Harry’s soon with me - nail painting, baking cookies, and all.

But, when I met his eyes with my sad, puppy dog pair, he melted right then and there.

“Harry, this is too much. I can’t accept all of this,” I had told him and he shook his head, lifting my own with his thumb to look in his eyes.

“Please, Becks. I-I hate t’ say it, but I have too much money than I know what t’ do with, and ‘ve been so excited to give you all of these. Don’t worry ‘bout tha money. Alright, my love?”

I gave in, and with the kisses he smothered me with, there was no way in hell I could say no to that face.

He stirs underneath the covers behind me, and so do my thoughts, but with a huff, Harry returns to snoring softly. I carefully open my suitcase and fish out my last clean outfit, and without a sound, walk across the hall and into the shower.

I thought I had made out like a bandit, but when I slip back into my room in search of Post-Its and a pen, I find that somebody else is awake.

“Where are you goin’, Becks?” they rasp, pulling themselves up to sit and the covers pool on his lap. Rubbing at his eyes, Harry cards a hand through his tousled curls, quickly yawning.

“Oh, just to run an errand quick. Go back to bed, I won’t be gone long.”

“Mmmm,” he groans, knuckling at his left eye. “Can’t it wait ‘til we leave this afternoon, bug? Y’know I can’t sleep without you, I get too cold, and miss havin’ you in me arms.”

“No, it can’t. I’m sorry . . You’ll fall right back asleep, Harry, I promise,” I shush him, stepping forward and pressing on his shoulder, but he doesn’t fall back in any of the ways that I’d hoped.

“I’ll come with, then. We can grab some pastries from that bakery you love fer brekky with yer dad.”

“It’s okay, I will if you want. Please, Harry, go back to sleep. You were up late, you must have a headache from all of those drinks with Robbie. I dunno why you pair had to have a shots competition,” I insist, and my distraction makes a raspy laugh fall from his mouth.

“I like yer brotha, y’know, he’s a funny git,” he drawls, rubbing his hands down his face once before pulling back the covers. “Can I come? ‘ll be mo’ awake after I have a shower.”

“I dunno,” I nervously laugh, tucking a wet lock of hair behind my ear. Huffing, I smooth down the floral skirt of my dress and sit on the edge of my bed. Thoughts whizz around in my head, flying to that destination and the next, but this one isn’t sure where to go.

“If ya really don’t want me t’, ‘s okay. ‘m sorry t’ pressure ya, babe.”

“It’s okay, Harry. I’d like you to come, but . . I dunno,” I reveal, toying with the ring and starting at the corner of my eye, I watch his hands still my pair that wring each other.

“Don’t hafta tell me if ya don’t wanna, I trust you y’know.”

Nodding, I wonder how I had ever gotten so damn lucky with this one. A split second giggle tickles at my lips, and then the toying turns into twirling, and then, telling.

“She would’ve been eighty-five today, I think,” the whisper fights to make itself known, and I can’t meet his eyes, but I think I hear it in his breathing when he connects the dots. The spinning of the ring, and the tracing of the flower, frozen in time. “I bring her flowers every year, just wildflowers I find on the side of the road. I’ve wanted to bring a cupcake and sing before blowing it out, but it seemed odd to eat it sitting there, when she can’t,” I continue, the frog jumping into my throat at the end there.

His words are absent, but they’re the least bit of that and so is my surprise when my head meets his shoulder, and his fingers trickle through my hair.

“You don’t have to come with, if you don’t want to,” I pipe up, grabbing hold of the smooth chain around his neck. The swallows beckon for me, and I trace their wings slowly, wondering how silky they’d feel if they were alive on his chest.

“I’d like t’ come with, if that’s okay with you.”

“Yeah, it’s more than okay,” I respond, my thumb and finger holding onto the cross when my arms go around his neck, and he lifts me onto his lap.

“I wish I coulda met her, yer Grandma Ann . . but bringin’ flowers t’ her grave sounds rather special too. Yer tha sweetest, Becks, y’know that?”

“So do I, she would’ve loved you,” I say, watching the tear glide down the slope of his back, and past the golden hairs lit by the sunrise behind the curtains.

“Does yer dad go with you?”

“Sometimes, maybe he will today.”

“‘d like that,” Harry coos, drawing the letters of my name, one by one, along my spine. I only know that because he’d told me last night when I couldn’t fall asleep, and he was happily buzzed.

I think that’s why I couldn’t, because how could my dreams beckon for me when my life was finally better than anything I could dream about?

“Ya mean it, tha best ever? In tha whole, entire history o’ birthdays, ever and ever?” they titter and its feeling against my cheek brings one forth onto my lips.

“You’re so silly, but yes. I had an amazing birthday, Harry. One to remember.”

“Good, bug. ‘m glad t’ hear. Only tha best fer me favourite girl,” he coos, dragging his nose along my cheek.

“Maybe next year for my birthday you can grow your hair out again for my birthday present.”

“Oh, really? That’s whatcha want? Hmm, I was thinkin’ o’ givin’ you a baby fer yer twenty-eighth,” he giggles, the rich smell of coffee hinting on his breath. Now, it’s my turn to giggle and I share it into his neck, our chests bumping when he pulls me closer. I steal a kiss from his swallow and nuzzle in deeper as he drapes the blanket his mum knitted for me over us, sinking further into his sofa.

“Stop it with the baby talk, marriage comes first, dumbo.”

“Fine then, ‘ll getchu a ring fer yer birthday,” he continues and I hide my reddening cheeks in the place between his shoulder and neck. Monica laughs at something on the TV behind us, but my focus darts to the melodic kisses he sponges along my neck, and his nose nudging at my shirt.

“Shush it, I’m not going anywhere,” I insist, revealing my scarlet cheeks to his smiling eyes.

“Better not, I dunno what ‘d do if ya did.”

“It’s a good thing neither of us have to worry about that, huh?” I return, tapping my finger on his nose. He nods and brushes his thumb under my eye where he often traces the imperfection that lives there.

“‘m lookin’ forward t’ mo’ weekends at yer Dad’s. It was loads o’ fun gettin’ t’ see where ya grew up, tha house ya grew up in, yer old schools, tha park at tha pond, and bloody hell, that night out back by tha bonfire,” he says, words falling into a sound of happiness. “I can’t remember tha last time I had so much Tequila. Fook, can that brotha o’ yers drink, and yer dad too. And that pizza yer dad made, ugh, ‘m gonna need anotha one o’ those soon. I miss playin’ board games so much like that, I see where ya get tha love o’ it from. I ‘specially loved playin’ on yer family piano with you, reckon we might make a good pair if we practice some mo’.”

Giggling, I agree with him as my fingers mingle with his necklace, “Yeah, it was a birthday to remember, that’s for sure.”

“Reckon so, and I couldn’t be gladder to hear that, bug. Remember last year’s wasn’t tha best, you’ve said. I hope they only get betta and betta, my love,” Harry croons, and I nod, sure that they will.

It all seems to be a hill that I get to climb by his side, but it’s the least bit tiring, and all the more exhilarating with every step that I take.

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