#‘I have a crush I think about a lot and I whisper poetry to myself at night’ | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cellsshapedlikestars · 3 years

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jonsa prompt fic/modern au

(look at me, making my way through the rest of my prompts from *checks watch* five months ago)

This one was from the lovely @chispas-and-broken-bindings and the prompt was: “I'm sorry 'bout the other night and I know I could be more creative and come up with poetic lines but..”

1) had to google these lyrics, and I have to say, I had never heard of this song, so thank you for also bringing it to my attention

2) I have no concept of what a drabble is, apparently. I meant to keep all of these at under 1k words but nooooope

Jon grunts as he reaches deep into the fridge – he can see the label of one of those craft beers Theon had (with shockingly good taste) brought in the back and he'd really like that instead of the cheaper swill crowding the front.

Sansa's birthdays are always massive and he honestly forgot the way she goes all out for them. After high school, he just never really made it back for her big, late-September parties and then after college, he'd taken a job down in Dorne. It's his first year back and he sort of forgot how overwhelming it all is - how many friends she has, how her entire extended family shows up.

It doesn't help that he barely knows any of her friends anymore. He recognizes a few from her high school years, but other than that he knows no one. Thank the gods the Starks and Theon are here, because otherwise, Jon's lost in a sea of strangers.

“Jon Snow!” he hears a voice behind him, light and airy and filled with what almost sounds like glee. His fingers finally manage to grasp the neck of the bottle he was aiming for and he pulls back and stands up and turns around to see – fuck, what's her name? Margaery, that's right. Sansa's best friend from high school.

“Hey,” he says, giving her what he's sure is the smile that Robb always calls ‘weird’ and ‘awkward‘ (how you've ever gotten any woman to sleep with you is a miracle, he remembers Robb telling him once).

“It's so nice that you could come,” Margaery says, voice oozing with... something he can't quite place.

“Uh, yeah?” he agrees, because he guesses it is nice? He starts to move around her – they're the only two in the basement right now, everyone else is outside at the party, he'd only come in to grab a drink.

“I mean, I guess we're all adults now, high school is so a decade ago, am I right?” There's a sort of glint in her eye that Jon doesn't like and he really, really wants to get back outside, but there's also a part of him that wants to ask what the hell she means.

“It was a decade ago,” he agrees again, edging towards the door.

“It must have been so awkward for you, I guess that's why you've been avoiding her all these years,” Margaery sighs and tilts her head with a piercing stare, like she's trying to look into his soul or something.

“I... what?”

“Oh, it's ok,” she smiles, leaning forward and starting to whisper even though there's no one else around, “she told me everything.”

“Everything about what?” he asks, mind going suddenly blank because he cannot think of a single thing that Margaery could be talking about.

“Your crush, duh!”

For a moment there's silence in the basement, before, “my crush?”

“I mean, you were like... obsessed with her!”

Jon blinks, feeling both very confused and very stupid as he says, “what?”

“Oh come on! We were all there when you sent her those flowers. You clearly wanted everyone to know, you had them delivered in the middle of lunch! She even read the card aloud – what did it say? Oh my god, they were lyrics, that's right! I'm sorry 'bout the other night and I know I could be more creative and come up with poetic lines but..” she trails off with a giggle. “I'll be honest, I never pegged you as a Rihanna fan.”

Jon feels some sort of creeping horror filling him because he has - one, never sent anyone besides his mother flowers and two, doesn't think he knows even a single Rihanna song.

“Excuse me.”

He walks out of the basement with Margaery's tinkling laugh following him and when he's outside, he immediately spots Sansa, surrounded by a group of her friends by the pool, laughing with a glass of sangria in her hand and a flower crown on her head and a sash that reads Birthday Girl! across her body.

Arya calls to him, but he ignores her as he pushes through the crowd of Sansa's friends and family, making his way to her. She spots him right before he gets there, a smile forming and then fading when she takes in his face – and then panic seems to cross her features and she looks around, like she's going to try to run.

“Sansa,” he says before she can bolt, and her friends part to let him through. “Can we talk?”

She opens her mouth, but he takes her by the arm and starts dragging her away from her friends and behind them, he thinks he hears a few of them start to whisper and giggle and the annoyance that's been simmering in his chest flares.

“Jon, I'm so glad you could make it!” she says brightly, plastering a smile on her face that he can tell is completely fake. “It's been-”

“Why does Margaery think I had a crush on you in high school?”

He watches her open and close her mouth a few times, eyes darting around for an escape and he tightens his grip on her arm.

“I don't...” she starts, but her voice isn't very strong.

“Sansa,” he tries to keep his voice calm and even.

“Ok, fine,” she hisses, eyes snapping back to him and narrowing and there's the Sansa he knows. She may look sweet and innocent, but Jon has known her long enough to know she isn't the wilting flower she sometimes pretends to be. He watches her spine straighten and her head rise and she looks him in the eye. “I told some of my friends back then that you had a thing for me, so what? It was like, a decade ago. It's nothing to freak out over.”

“Well, Margaery is bringing it up to me at a party a decade later. Why does she think I sent you flowers?”

Her confidence falters then, pink staining her cheeks. “I needed to convince them you had a crush on me, so I... may have... sent myself flowers and made the card from you.”

He stares at her, dumbfounded, before asking, “why did I never hear about this before?”

Sansa shrugs and says, “you were away at college at the time. And then you went south and this is the first time you've been around my high school friends since then?”

“Why?” he asks, mind still reeling over this (and, oh gods, he hopes none of Sansa's high school friends ever said anything to Robb or her parents. But no, if they had, Jon's pretty sure he'd be dead in a ditch or, at the very least, banned from family functions by now).

He watches her struggle to come up with something to say, watches the blush spread from high on her cheeks down to her throat and she visibly swallows and for a moment he thinks she might cry and he feels suddenly horrible. Except no – she's the one making up stories about him. He shouldn't feel bad!

“It was... we were at a party and they were all talking about-” she lowers her voice to a whisper, eyes darting around, “-sex and they kept making jokes about how I was a virgin and they knew I hadn't slept with Joffrey before we broke up and I was sick of them making fun of me so I just... I told them I wasn't a virgin. And then they wanted to know who and... well, you were the first person I thought of.”

He's not quite sure how to take that and he doesn't really know what to say (though honestly, he wants to tell her that her high school friends were shit then and they're still pretty shit now, if Margaery cornering him in the basement to taunt him about his supposed crush is any indication).

“And the flowers?”

“Ok,” she says, letting out a forced, breathless laugh, “here's where it gets funny. I promise, you're gonna laugh...” He keeps frowning at her and she gives a subtle tug to her arm and, finding it unmoving, realizes she's going to have to tell him. “Margaery asked a lot of questions and I could tell she didn't believe me and it turned into this whole thing where you were like, obsessed with me? I told them you wrote me poetry and then I sent the flowers to myself...” she trails off uncertainly and Jon wills himself to breathe deep and bite his tongue against his initial retort.

“And you never thought that your gossipy high school friends might spread this around and it could get back to, I don't know, your brother - my best friend? Your parents?”

Her eyes go wide in horror and Jon can tell that no, she never thought of that. Her eyes dart around the party and Jon turns to look behind him and he can see a group of her high school friends whispering together and not too far away is her parents talking to her Uncle Benjen. He watches her eyes well up with tears and he fights back a sigh of annoyance because he wants to be furious with her, but he can't quite manage it (he is weak to tears, yes, but he also remembers high school Sansa – how insecure she was, how desperate to fit in with her friends, that little shit boyfriend who made her feel even worse – and he can't bring himself to be mad).

“Did it have to be Rihanna?” he sighs eventually, giving her what he hopes is a reassuring smile.

“It's a good song,” she says, hesitantly, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth in return.

“You really should ditch those friends,” he tells her, serious again.

“I honestly don't hang out with them anymore, I just invited them because we all still live around here and Margaery DM'd me a few weeks ago about my party and I felt weird not inviting her. If you want, I can tell them the truth. I should have years ago.”

“It doesn't really matter,” he shrugs. “As long as it never gets back to your family, I do not want to deal with them thinking I deflowered their precious daughter.”

She huffs out an incredulous laugh and says, “I almost wish it had been you, Harry...” And then she stops and her mouth drops open and her eyes go wide like she can't believe she said that and honestly, neither can Jon. It hangs between them for a moment and suddenly he is very aware of his hand still on her arm, how smooth her skin feels beneath his touch. He lets go of her like it burns.

“Well,” he says, shifting back to give a few more inches of space between them. “I should probably let you get back to your party.”

“Yeah,” she says and then, just before he turns to go, “I'm glad you're back. In Winterfell, I mean. I guess I'll be seeing you around more?”

He stares at her for a few moments, the pink stain back on her cheeks, teeth biting into her bottom lip, fingers nervously playing with her birthday sash and he should say no because he can feel this leading down a road he was not prepared for, but instead he says, “yeah. Yes. I'll see you around.”

“Good,” she says and she smiles and as he walks away, all he can think is – Robb is gonna be so annoying about this.

#jonsa #jonsa fic #oh look it's another modern au #shocking #prompt fic

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carnationcreation · 4 years

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reggie x bandmember!rapper!reader

where the reggie has a crush on reader and tries to win them over.

just a suggestion

TITLE: Distractions (JATP Reggie x bandmember!reader)

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Prompt/summary: Reggie has a crush on the lyricist behind the bands raps and verses and he’s trying desperately to win her over

Word Count: 1,614

Authors note: I don’t really know too much about rap so I decided to relate it more to music but she still basis her lyrics in rap so I hope this is okay!

Being the newest member to the band left me under a lot of pressure, I had to switch between different instruments and learn the parts in case something happened to one of the members so I could go on in their place. So I was like an understudy for the Phantoms as well as one of their lyricists. If Luke or Julie were having trouble getting inspiration they’d come to me and I’d help them work their way through their writers block by making them listen to famous rappers like Tupac and Eminem. After a while their minds would be focusing on the rhythms and the melodies instead of just words, because you can’t have a good song unless it flows like a stream.

The problem that seemed to keep arising was Reggie trying to get my attention.

“(Y/n) watch!” Reggie said before he swung his bass over his back making it loop around so he could catch it again.

“That’s cool Reg but we’re supposed to be working,” I responded before turning back to my notebook on top of the piano, missing Reggie’s pouting face.

He was so sweet to me, but sometimes his antics would interfere with my work. I knew he wasn’t trying to be annoying but after a long day of learning songs and writing with Julie it can feel like he’s just trying to distract me just because he can.

“Alright so then there’s a key change up to a D major,” Julie said as she played the chord effortlessly on the piano, “And then I’m thinking Luke will come in on the melody-”

“(Y/n) look what I made you!” Reggie said running up to the piano, he placed a piece of paper in my hand, looking at me expectantly. I smiled at the picture of a hand turkey colored in with different colored crayons.

“Wow, thank you Reggie,” I said and turned back to the piano with Julie.

“He really doesn’t stop does he?” she said quietly.

I nodded, “It’s endearing most of the time but right now I just really want to get this done.”

“I need a line right here, I just can’t get it right.”

Julie and I continued writing, even leaving me a space to do some free verse that acts as a counter melody as well as to pick up the tempo for the final chorus. It wasn’t too long after that when Reggie tapped me on the shoulder.

“What Reggie?” I said annoyed.

“Oh,” Reggie said, “I wanted to ask if you were ready for our bass lesson but I’ll wait.”

My face softened as I saw the time on my watch, “I’m sorry Reg I lost track of time.”

He nodded and led me over to the stools he had set up, I grabbed his bass out of the stand and plugged it up to the amp beside the piano.

“I’m sorry I annoy you all the time,” Reggie said quietly.

“What do you mean Reggie?”

He sighed, “I just want to talk to you all the time I just forget that you’re doing important stuff for the band.”

I smiled, “Reggie you could never annoy me, or at least not to the point where I wouldn’t like you.”

“So you really did like my hand turkey?”

I laughed, “Yes Reggie I promise I really did.”

Reggie grinned widely and pulled me into a tight hug making me giggle.

“Are you gonna keep it?”

I picked up the paper and walked over to the piano where my binder full of song lyrics and sheet music sat, I slid the paper into the front clear pouch on the binder so everyone could see the turkey right on the front of the binder.

Reggie threw his hands up in the air, “Yay!”

“Alright we seriously have to get to work now,” I laughed.

_________________________________

After a sold out concert at the Orpheum the night before Julie decided we should take the day off and have a movie marathon. Julie picked out the first 3 and chose all disney movies. We were watching the Little Mermaid when I started to feel myself getting mind numbingly bored from having to sit still on the couch next to Reggie and a sleeping Alex. I reached down to my feet and into my backpack to pull out my binder to scribble a few lyric ideas down before I forget them.

“What are you doing?” I heard Reggie whisper.

“Writing down some lyrics,” I said.

He scoffed, “Do you ever stop working?”

“Do you ever stop trying to get my attention?” I tease him with a smirk.

“Whatever, but you should take a break. It’s our day off you shouldn’t be working.”

“Depends on what you want to call working. Lyrics are just part of my thoughts for most of the day, I’m much more productive writing down wording and rhymes and beats from my head that can be molded into a new song otherwise I’d just forget them and be frustrated when I don’t have anything new.”

“Well, I guess I think about bass lines a lot so I see what you mean,” Reggie shrugged.

We sat quietly for a few minutes, as the credits started to roll I looked over to see Luke picking up Julie to take her to bed as she had fallen asleep. Alex stirred and stood up before walking outside to the studio. I’m assuming he went to sleep on the couch in there.

“Come on,” Reggie said, standing up.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

He smiled, “To get your thoughts on something else for a while.”

He grabbed my hand and led me out the front door, we walked out of Julie’s house and down the street. We finally hit main street and he pulled me over to a street vendor selling hotdogs and grabbed two for us before sitting down on a bench to eat.

“I’m surprised after how you died you still want to eat these,” I laughed.

“As long as it’s not from the back of a car I think I’ll be fine, they’re good!” he said before biting into his, “So what kind of lyrics were you writing down?”

I pulled my backpack off my shoulder and pulled out the binder, Reggie smiled and pointed at the hand turkey that was still on the front.

“Skies grew darker,

Current swept you out,

Inside this Eden,

No one hears us shout.”

“That’s kinda depressing,” Reggie said.

I laughed and tucked it back into my bag and put it at our feet.

“So those lyrics are just constantly in your head?” he asked.

“Yeah, I guess where I’ve read and written so much poetry and listened to so much music all the time it’s just something that comes naturally to me,” I shrugged.

“Can I read through them?”

“You can read through it any time you want Reggie,” I said, I finished up my hotdog and crumpled up the wrapper.

“Really?” he asked.

I giggled, “Yes Reggie I trust you with my deepest, most depressing lyrics.”

He laughed and grabbed both of our wrappers and walked over to the trash can with me tagging closely behind him.

“I gotta head home, it’s starting to get late,” I said.

Looked at his watch, “Oh yeah, I’ll walk you home.”

“You don’t have to.”

Reggie scoffed sarcastically, “Can’t let a pretty lady walk home in the dark.”

I took his arm in mine, “What a gentleman.”

We walked down main street and finally turned to the street that led into my neighborhood. Reggie stopped and pointed at random things he saw along the way, and when he wasn’t doing that he was singing songs and dancing to them while walking along beside me trying to get me to laugh.

“Reggie quiet down my parents are gonna hear and ask why I’m outside with a boy.”

“Not just any boy, a formerly dead boy,” Reggie smirked.

“Shhh!” I stepped up to the gate and unlatched it, letting him and I into the garden.

“Come on (y/n). What if we rewrite the stars!” Reggie sang.

I rolled my eyes, “I shouldn’t have shown you that movie.”

“It’s catchy!” he said.

“Reggie,” I said grabbing his arm lightly and making him face me, “please be quiet for a minute.”

Reggie nodded but still giggled as I pulled out my house key and he followed me on to the porch.

“I had fun Reggie, this gave me more song ideas.”

“Well that’s good at least,” Reggie smiled, “can I drag you out tomorrow to annoy you some more?”

“For the last time Reg, you’re not annoying,” I giggled.

“If you say so,” Reggie said as he turned to walk away.

“Reggie?” I said. He turned around and I placed a quick kiss on his cheek.

Reggie smiled widely and grabbed my waist, pulling me in and kissing me on the lips this time. After a second we pulled away, “So, tomorrow?”

I smiled and shook my head, “Pick me up in the morning, and bring your skateboard.”

He grinned and turned. He ran down the steps and out onto the street, eventually tripping over the shoelaces of his converse and falling to the ground, “I’m okay!”

I laughed and turned to unlock the door. When I got to my room and pulled out my binder to put on my bed I began to mumble to myself, what if we rewrite the stars.

The rest of the night was filled with the memories of the night replaying in my head and the lyrics that poured out of them and on to the paper.

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

Taglist: @thebookwormlife @peachyxdream @catieiscute2001 @me-myself-and-my-oboe

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solohux · 4 years

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Summer, Sunscreen & Secrets - BenArmie ☀️

for @pangolinpirate, who wanted a High School AU with a pool party, some sunscreen application and some hidden feelings! I hope you enjoy! 💛

- - - - - - - -

This pool party is everything that Kylo hates. Hot weather, lots of people and loud, shit music. He’s lucky that Poe has a large garden with lots of trees; there’s enough shade for Kylo to hide in. He stands on the upper decking of the Dameron’s glorious patio, looking down to where dozens of seniors splash about in the pool and show off with dives and cannonballs, throwing the inflatables at one another. Kylo hides underneath the shade of a parasol, admittedly warm in all of his black clothing but he’s almost enjoying being able to judge the others from behind the frames of his black sunglasses.

Hux is worth all of this.

The nerdy red-head has been the centre of Kylo’s world since middle school, since the transfer from England dropped into Kylo’s History class in the middle of the winter semester and blew the teacher away with his knowledge of...everything. An outcast too, Hux had latched onto Kylo without really meaning to, following him around like he was the coolest kid in school as opposed to the least popular.

5 years later and on the eve of Hux travelling back to England to go to university, this ridiculous party is the only way for Kylo to hang out his crush before he never sees him again.

“Kylo!”

Kylo’s heart leaps in his chest. He whirls around, making his long hair flick back over his shoulder, and finds an image before him that’s like something out of a shower fantasy.

Hux is standing before him in nothing but a pair of green swimming shorts and a pink pair of sunglasses pushed back in his mess of ginger hair. His skin is so pale that Kylo wonders how he hasn’t burst into flames yet—though the same could be said for Kylo. That’s why he’s in the shade.

But Hux. His body is just as beautiful as Kylo imagined it would be. Underneath the shirts and slacks, Hux has been hiding a thin frame and narrow shoulders, perky nipples and an elegantly soft collarbone that Kylo can’t stop staring at.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” Hux says, joining Kylo in the shade, leaning against the wooden pillar of the fancy decking. “This isn’t really your scene.”

“My...uh. My Mom is friends with Poe’s mom,” Kylo says, trying to keep his gaze on Hux’s eyes and not on his bare chest.

“Ah. And that means you’ve got to come to every pool party that Poe throws for all the seniors?”

“I guess so.”

“Well, I’m glad that I’ve found you,” Hux says, smiling so widely that his nose scrunches up. It melts Kylo’s heart. “Will you help me with my sunscreen? Being ginger means that the sun hates me. I’d kill it if I could.”

Kylo feels all the heat in his body begin to pool in his cheeks, hoping that the darkness of the overhanging parasol is enough to hide his blush. He pushes his sunglasses up into his hair, taking some of it out of his eyes and swallows hard.

“Uhhh...”

“You’re the only one I trust not to draw a cock on my back,” Hux whispers, pushing the bottle of sun cream into Kylo’s hand. If he feels the shake of them, he doesn’t comment.

“Okay,” Kylo says. He can do this.

Hux turns around. Kylo just about manages to stifle his gasp; a plethora of little freckles for themselves over Hux’s thin shoulders, cascading like stardust from one side to the other, thinning out into nothing but perfectly soft skin across his prominent shoulder blades. How can a person’s back be a turn on? Kylo doesn’t know but he’s so in love with every inch of Hux’s body that saying goodbye to him seems more impossible now than it ever has before.

“Kylo?”

“Fuck,” Kylo sighs, blinking away his emotions. “Sorry.”

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Of course.”

“You know, I can get someone else to do this if you don’t want to,” Hux says. “Maybe Poe or Finn...?”

“No! No, I’ll do it, it’s fine.” Without another moment’s hesitation, Kylo squeezes a generous helping of sunscreen onto his palm before dotting it onto Hux’s back using one finger, a little afraid to use more.

His skin is just as soft as it looks. Feeling brave, Kylo begins rubbing it the cream in with more fingers, wanting to get the most out of this before he loses Hux forever. His strokes are as gentle as he can be, feeling like touching Hux too hard would break him; he’s precious, deserving of soft touches and kind kisses.

Kisses? Oh, to kiss this skin forever would be like heaven, Kylo thinks, wondering if this heartbreaking feeling of having a crush on his best friend will fuel his poetry.

“Your hands are so soft,” Hux says, sighing with a long rise and fall of his shoulders.

“Thanks?”

“It feels nice. Maybe you should quit your band and become a masseuse. The first goth masseuse in the world.”

‘Anything for you,’ Kylo thinks.

“Oh, and my chest too?” Hux spins around, startling Kylo. “I’m shit at putting it on myself. I think I might need glasses. You’re better at doing it. You don’t mind, do you?”

“N-no,” Kylo bites his lip, catching his piercing in between his teeth. “I’ll do your chest.”

“You’re the best, Kylo.”

“I’m not.”

“You are. What am I going to do without you?”

Kylo scoffs, “I don’t think you’ll need sunscreen in England.”

But instead of laughing, Hux smiles sadly, glancing down at the ground. “Good point.”

Another few squirts of the cream onto his hand and Kylo is rubbing it into Hux’s skin again, touching his collarbone and feeling the ridge of the bone beneath his fingers. The bounce of his nipples as Kylo’s rubs is hypnotic and beautiful, draining some of the blood from Kylo’s red cheeks to his crotch.

Kylo has never felt anything like this before. So many emotions, too many thoughts, and he’s run out of time to set them free. Hasn’t he?

“You’re blushing, Kylo,” Hux says softly, all trace of mischief gone from his expression.

Kylo gulps, “So are you.”

“I’m a ginger in the sun. What do you expect?”

“I’m a goth in the sun.”

“Touché.” Hux looks down to where Kylo’s hand is rubbing the same spot in a little circle as though he’s just in a trance. “Uh. I think that’ll do, Kylo.”

“Oh,” Kylo blinks, pulling his hand away. “Okay.”

“Thank you.”

“Anytime,” Kylo forces a happy smile. “Always.”

“I’ll see you around?”

“Sure.”

Hux takes his bottle of sunscreen and slides his sunglasses back down onto his nose, walking away across the decking to make his way towards the pool. Kylo can’t watch. It can’t end before anything has had the chance to begin.

“Hux, wait,” Kylo reaches out, taking Hux’s hand and pulling him back into the shade, their heartbeats drowning out the sound of the awful synth pop music. “I have to tell you something.”

Hux takes his sunglasses off, his green eyes looking as through they’re brimming with tears.

“Yes?”

“I...” The words are stuck on the butterflies that feel like they’re clogging up his throat. Kylo chokes, wanting his confession to be perfect but instead he’s stuttering like a fool in front of the one person who actually likes him for him. “I love...y—“

“What?” Hux gasps. “You love me?”

“Y-yeah,” Kylo shrinks back against into the corner and wishes the shadows would eat him up. “I’m sorry, Hux. But you’re leaving tomorrow and I’ll never see you again so I had to tell you. You’re my best friend. I’m sorry.”

But Hux takes Kylo by surprise. He takes both of Kylo’s hands and closes the gap between them, until they’re practically chest-to-chest.

“I’ve dreamt about hearing you tell me that,” Hux says, his voice filled with excitement, his eyes sparkling. “Because I love you too, Kylo Ren. Ben Solo. Whatever you want to call yourself. I adore you and I think I always have. Since that first day—“

“Yeah,” Kylo agrees. “That first day in History class. I knew. I knew you were important.”

“Kylo.”

The kiss is everything Kylo has fantasies about; uncoordinated, sweaty and much too short for his liking. He wants to stay locked to Hux’s perfect lips forever now, stay here where he’s the happiest that he’s ever felt.

“I won’t go to England,” Hux shakes his head as he pulls away from the kiss. “My father will have to defer my place at university for a year at least. I can’t leave you.”

“You won’t have to,” Kylo cups Hux’s cheeks, getting sun cream on them but neither of them care. “I’ll come with you.”

“Kylo. I wouldn’t expect you to leave your family behind—“

“I don’t care about them. I don’t want to work in my Dad’s scrapyard. I don’t want to be a snooty politician like Mom. I want to be with you, Hux. I’ll pack up tonight and come with you. Wherever you go, if you’ll have me.”

“Yes,” Hux gasps, stifling his tears. “Yes, Kylo! Always!”

He throws his arms around Kylo’s neck and hugs him tightly, the two of them sharing an incredible moment whilst the rest of the party goes on without them. No one notices them in the corner, embracing in the shade as though they’ve been apart for centuries and finally finding each other. Kylo can’t believe it.

“Oops,” Hux mutters, smirking and chuckling in Kylo’s ear. “I’ve got sunscreen on your favourite Joy Division shirt.”

“Is that your way of getting me to take my shirt off too?”

“Was it that obvious?”

#kylux #benarmie #modern au #high school au #hs au #m:writing #I’m sorry this took me so long!!

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ewdaviddd · 4 years

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folklore think piece

for a lower case album such as this, i will be writing a lowercase think piece on the subject. i will not explain why. you get it or you don’t.

the 1: i have never been in love or any type of romantic relationship that left me with lasting feelings of any kind. but, on my fourth listen through of this song today, what once was just a promising and fun intro to this peasant girl summer gut punch, brought me to actual tears as i sat on the toilet in my lime green childhood bathroom as if i were mourning the one that got away (another great song). however, i am an expert on being hung up on the past, the “what could have been”, and made up hypotheticals. this song also introduces the film motif seen a lot in this album. i think dating an actor has really gotten to her. anyway what a killer way to begin, top notch stuff. how can a song be so fun and so soul crushing at the same time?

cardigan: when did taylor wear black lipstick? this is important to me. an old cardigan is an inherently bisexual article of clothing. that is not an opinion. i read it somewhere today and i believe it. this is the tip of the queer-coding ice berg in folklore, never fear. another reference, “tried to change the ending / peter losing wendy”. this year i wrote a movie script where both peter and wendy were both gay. coincidence? probably. basically this one is classic taylor poetry on every level and it being one of a trio in a larger story makes it that much better. yet again, high school romance is not a universal experience (like for me for instance) but haunting my “what-ifs” is going to haunt me for a long time. and the thought of someone saying i was their favorite cardigan makes me want to scream into a pillow.

the last great american dynasty: my favorite ts songs have always been the ones with detailed characters and stories and this one introduces the trope of the “mad woman” who comes back later on as well a long with many fun character details. at first this song is just cheeky and cute, very visual, a fun world to jump into. but then this particular stretch of lines makes your heart drop into your chest and reminds you why taylor isn’t just always fun and always cute and always creative, she also holds the ability to nimbly sock you in the gut when you least expect: “fifty years is a long time / holiday house sat quietly on that beach / free of women with madness, their men and bad habits / and then it was bought by me.” my jaw is still on the floor. and i’ve never bought a house myself. but i’ve spent numerous christmases having a marvelous time ruining everything (so i’ve been told) so this song still applies to my life.

exile (ft. bon iver): i’m gonna be honest. for as long as i can remember i have strongly disliked bon iver and i never remembered why. it is a matter of principle at this point. i just don’t trust him. but then taylor announced she wrote a song with him which filled me with tremendous anxiety. but i can rest easy. much like “the last time” this song is a ts and male artist collaboration i can get behind. also the film motif again: the only time i’ve left a theatre when i didn’t like a movie was never because movie tickets are so expensive and if i’m shelling out 11 dollars to sit in a chair, i’m staying the whole time no matter how bad the ending. but i probably would have left my sister’s keeper if i had seen it before if i’m being honest. so i get it. thats why i read spoilers for everything i watch before watching it, because the anxiety of worrying about how it ends make me not enjoy it in the first place. the end of this song: the call and response felt… ethereal? i felt like i was watching a broadway musical from the splash zone seats, crying as i was spat on.

my tears ricochet: this song is what i picture stepping outside in the middle of the night when an inch or so of snow has just fallen and i can see the flakes fall in front of a street light sounds like. or the scorned secret ex lover throwing themselves onto the coffin demanding to know why they weren’t enough. which is to say it feels like a sign from some sort of god. yet again, haunting is brought up, an overt reference to the fact that this album will live in my brain rent free for eternity. for some reason this song reminds me of the relationship between hamilton and burr when burr kills hamilton. that could be because i just watched the disney+ recording last week. one lives, one dies, but neither survive, both pay for it. Which is a super romantic and understanding view on murder. both musical experiences equally chilling and moving. if i die under mysterious circumstances this will for sure be played at the funeral.

mirrorball: first off, this is my mom's favorite which is very important. also, it has skewered a very specific but also universal insecurity of mine; existing just to please others and yet miserably failing. it is comforting that ts is not a “natural’ and feels she must always “try try try” because i too lack natural ability, but also rarely “try” even just the one time. the best way i can describe listening to this song is walking through a silent disco where everyone else is listening to some classic lady gaga jam and you are listening to a calming lullaby sung very far away. but don’t let the soothing sounds fool you. it still will have you reflecting on what it means to look and be looked at. a dark rabbit whole, like falling through the looking glass. i’ve never actually read that book though so i could be wrong.

seven: i’m dumb and on my first listen of this song i thought she “hit her peak” at 7 clock as opposed to age seven. but i always saw taylor swift as someone with an early bedtime. also a fun discovery while writing this, “seven” is the 7th song on the track list. clever. although this song is young and innocent and so nostalgic for a time when screaming ferociously was a widely accepted form of expression, it also sounds like a very old secret someone is whispering to me. a love from long ago that lasts beyond the person being in your life, passed down to me and it all just sounds a little gay. not just because of the specific line to hiding in the closet. but that certainly doesn’t go unnoticed. when i was seven i was definitely in love with girls and assumed that was just what friendship was, playing pirates and making plans of running away together.

august: the eighth track for the eighth month. her mind. also my birth month so that’s special. controversial opinion: from what i’ve read most people seem to think illicit affair is the third song in the triage of teen love. i will strongly make the case that it's actually this one. first of all, the subject: a short lived summer fling, which is specifically mentioned later in “betty”. the central heartbreak of this song is liking someone who always belonged to someone else. yes, this song is a window into a different summer, far from pandemic central and the escapist imagery is delightful. but a whole song from the pov of the “other woman” to james and betty is just so much more fun. and there are two more specific lyrics that prove my point. “remember when i pulled up and said "get in the car”” you will see later comes back from the other person’s perspective. and most of all: the repeated line, “meet me behind the mall”? only teenagers make plans to meet up behind a mall. i rest my case. so now we have cardigan and august. two pieces of the puzzle.

this is me trying: i’m glad i now have a succinct message to send to anyone when they ask me what the hell i’m doing at any given moment. this song just sounds like regret and waste in the most self-assured and confident way. this is “back to december” with the training wheels off. i have no apologies for my efforts at wasting all my potential. but in this song, taylor has opened her arms to me in a warm embrace and has forgiven me for all i’ve done wrong and reminds me to not take for granted the “try”. okay mom. i’m crying again, but okay.

illicit affair: this is the kind of thing that makes you feel sixteen, living in a dull suburb, while secretly screwing your 38 year old married neighbor who’s rich but wants to be an artiste. aka like a character in euphoria or something. it’s sexy and dangerous until you think about it and then it's just dingy and creepy. but this song starts and stays beautiful. most importantly, this song is too sad and depressing frankly, to be a part of the trilogy. we could never forgive james for leaving such a mess and making her a fool. you don’t want to be this girl. you want to walk up to her and shake her and yell “you exist and will not be ruined by any dumb man”. and that’s feminism.

invisible string: is it reductive if i say this one’s about joe? all my non-stan friends have asked me which ones are about him. we forgive them and point them in this direction. because it is lovely and beautiful that we are all tied to our soulmate for our whole lives before we ever meet them (because that would in fact mean that there is someone out there for everyone which might be naive or dumb but i am both of those things and whats the point of living if you don’t believe in the power of love). this honestly gives me “begin again” vibes in the best way. it’s red-era level with the wisdom of lover-era tay. sublime.

mad woman: the second mention of the “mad woman” as both taylor herself and the character in the story. as usual, tay stays calling out double standards and the manipulation of women into “going crazy” for expressing reasonable anger. I, personally, wish i could say “fuck you forever” without someone saying i’m “overreacting”. this is my least favorite song on the album and i’d still listen to it three times in a row and need to resist the urge to set a man’s lawn on fire. just girly things.

epiphany: i know she said this one is about her grandfather’s experience in the military but all i imagine is a slow montage of harry style’s character in “dunkirk” on the beach. and it’s beautiful. and much like my sophomore in high school self reading “all quiet on the western front” it evokes a pain from deep inside me that engulfs a loss i could never describe and a sadness too awful to witness. you will listen to this song and feel absolutely powerless to the will of the universe and it’s cruelty. and the faint but steady heart monitor beep in the background… i’ve never seen “grey’s anatomy” but i can imagine why it has so many fans sobbing. and let me end on this: two soldiers in some old war (meaning both men based on dunkirk) watching each other like this and living and dying together…gay.

betty: the first verse was pulled directly out of my subconscious fantasy of being in love in high school and it being so wonderful and painful and dramatic. and taylor riding a skateboard… is a mood. the song has been out for less than a week and it’s already a cold take to talk about how this is her gayest song to date (close runner-ups being reputation’s “dress” and “cardigan”). but of course i will still talk about it. the lyrics embody such authentic awkward gay energy (see the lesbian in booksmart for reference) and having been a 17 year old only three years ago, i can say with reasonably good authority that no 17 year old straight boy could stand in front of a crowd of peers and beg forgiveness from a girl he hurt. it’s just not realistic. these are all awkward, over-dramatic, young girls stumbling through love. and it’s awesome. james is the speaker of this song, and the subject of “august”, the summer fling that was never truly there due to james’ love for betty, the titular role of this song. thus completing the love triangle. and there are so many obvious references in this song to both “august” and “cardigan”. rhyming cardigan with car again makes me want to light myself on fire in the best way. i love it. “i dreamt of you all summer long” is the final nail in the coffin for the girl in “august” who was clearly just a place-holder. totally separate from taylor swift, my favorite word is porch. so the amount of times it appears in her lyrics is wonderful. say it out loud. it just feels nice. anyway, this song makes me want to be young and dumb and in love. the second can really only be tolerated because of the first and third. i hope the story has a happy-ending. if james were a boy i’d wish him the plague.

peace: the coming-of-age movie starring james and betty (and inez) is over. we have come to “the age” i guess. there’s a thought that’s gonna fester. if this song was just the line, “would it be enough if i could never give you peace?” over and over for four minutes it would still smash me to pulp and fill my body with helium gas. i can and will cause a car wreck when this comes on the aux. if this song is what being grown up is like (bare in mind grown up to me is like, 30) then i’m ready to be done coming of age. because i already worry if i’ll be at all enough for anyone and way too much for someone at the same time. but like all good poetry, this song isn’t about what it “means”, but how it “feels”. and this is new york city, the summer, pouring rain, a long walk home, desperately fearing and hoping they are there waiting for you.

hoax: a one-sided conversation between me and my stubborn clinical depression. i too, constantly stand alone on the cliff demanding a reason. one has not yet been presented. it operates both within and and against me. i could be bigger and stronger than it. but instead i tend to it like a prickly plant. (“no other sadness in the world will do”). there is nothing both sadder and funnier then the scene in “avatar: the last airbender” when prince zuko stands alone on a cliff screaming at the sky for lightning to strike him. i don’t know why this song reminds me so much of that. what a way to end such an emotional rollercoaster. it is so emotionally draining that it simply forces me to start folklore again from the top and listen to it all over again. or take a long therapeutic nap.

there are no skips. and it will still surprise you on your 267th listen. proceed with caution.

i knew you, in a past life maybe. i have not met you yet, but folklore has made me believe you exist.

@taylorswift 10/10 good work

@taylornation this had to be shared and i don’t have a twitter so

#@taylorswift #@taylurking #@taylornation #taylor swift #folklore #ts8

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nctsiren · 3 years

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Thank you for turning on anon uwu for the ask game thingy can I ask these for all of the girls? daydreams, caress, ivory, golden, freckles, twilight, poppy, clouds, roses, lollipop, dimples, whisper, pencil, honey, velvet, strawberry, kiss, shampoo, lace, sapphos?

hewwo anon!!! thank u for requesting!! i’m sorry it’s late :(( hope you enjoy, nonetheless!! i enjoyed writing it 🥺

daydream-

hyeyoung: “i think i’ll say joan jett or debbie harry!! i admire them a lot, i love their music, and i think it’d be fun to be a rock singer.”

mila: “i think it’d be nice to be beetle. i’ve always wondered how his mind works. being a dog seems cool”

evie was answered in my other post!!

jimin: “seulgi unnie!! i’ve always wondered what it would feel like to be perfect ;)”

caress-

hyeyoung: “i love to snuggle... i like when johnny lays between my legs with his head on my chest. it makes me so happy.”

mila: “yes... but i play hard to get with some of the wayv members. i feel at ease cuddling with ten.”

evie was answered in my other post!!

jimin: “there are hundreds of youtube comps of me being snuggly and affectionate .. i just love my members”

ivory-

hyeyoung: “i wear matching sets. like the pants and the button up shirt? or the silk/satin shorts and matching tank tops. i love cute pajamas, i always have.”

mila: “i usually wear a sports bra and boxers or shorts.”

evie: “big shirt and my underwear.”

jimin: “usually a big hoodie and shorts!”

golden-

hyeyoung: “i cannot choose!! i own lots of stationary, and i scrapbook, as well.”

mila: “i’m not really a stationary person. just gimme some lined paper and i am all good.”

evie: “i love a good pen.”

jimin: “AHH i’m a sucker for the cute stationary cards. i like writing letters and notes”

freckles-

hyeyoung: “honestly, i have a pair of black cigarette pants that i love to pieces. i wear them often- they just go with everything and are so comfortable!”

mila: “i... honestly probably this hoodie i stole from lucas. it’s super big and comfy. if i don’t wear it at certain times i feel like something bad will happen ://“

evie: “i have this big, chunky grandpa sweater that’s striped and i wear it to the point where it might start falling apart.”

jimin: “it’s not really a clothing item, but i’ve worn the lily necklace chenle gave me every day since i got it. and my necklace that’s just my name, jimin, in cursive.”

twilight (this is their best friend outside of the other girls)-

hyeyoung: “i know it’s cheesy, but johnny, for obvious reasons... i’m also quite close to irene unnie, as well as jaehyun and taeyong. it’s hard for me to pick.”

mila: “ten.”

evie: “i legitimately cannot pick outside of the girls... maybe lucas... or yuta... or doyo... i don’t fucking know.”

jimin: “chenle- i’m stuck with him.”

poppy-

hyeyoung: “pink. i’m not even much of a pink girl, but pastel pink is lovely.”

mila: “is... pastel orange a thing? i see it in my mind, but i don’t know if anyone else can.”

evie: “green. green is my favorite color in general, all shades.”

jimin: “lavender and periwinkle are my favorite colors outside of grey and white.”

clouds-

hyeyoung: “it was me alone in a practice room, but the room had large windows in it and it was so light. i was dancing- there was no music playling, but i still was. i felt so happy, and i stopped after twirling because johnny had arrived and he just smiled at me with so much love in his eyes.”

mila: “i honestly don’t remember my dreams, but i remember how i felt during them?”

evie was answered in my other post!!

jimin: “all of my dreams are weird and i don’t have a favorite because they’re too bizarre to enjoy.”

roses-

hyeyoung: “red roses... my late grandma, who was the person i loved most in the world, loved red roses.”

mila: “i think... tulips.”

evie was answered in my other post!!

jimin: “lilies, but not because of my name. my loved ones give them to me because of my name, but i love them because i receive them from my loved ones LMAO”

lollipop-

hyeyoung: “lipstick is my favorite. nice reds and pinks. i never go dark with lipstick- only dark eye makeup.”

mila: “i love ALL makeup”

evie: “i kind of hate wearing makeup, but i guess i’d pick eyebrow stuff.”

jimin: “mascara and blush! i like the heavy blush look.”

dimples-

hyeyoung: “my favorite thing is when i see people’s eyes crinkle when they smile. smiles and lips- oh, lips- are so beautiful.”

mila: “i love the variety of expressions that people can show even in a matter of seconds. i love seeing the range of emotions and thoughts on people’s faces.”

evie: “i love noses. all noses. also, i think facial structures are so lovely and unique. everyone is different.”

jimin: “smiles and eyes. i think eyes are so, so beautiful. i’ve never met anyone with eyes that aren’t beautiful. and smiles are heavenly because seeing a person’s joy written on their face is priceless.”

whisper-

hyeyoung: “i usually get the amount you’re supposed to get. i tend to go to bed earlier and wake up earlier. my alarm is santeria by sublime, like johnny’s...”

mila: “i have horrible, horrible insomnia and only get a very little amount.”

evie was answered on my other post!! ++ she also will sleep through ANYTHING even her alarms

jimin: “i either get too much or too little.”

pencil-

hyeyoung: “i bullet journal to plan, and i also write down the things that make me anxious during the day so that i can reflect and see what i could do next time to sooth myself more”

mila: “lined notebooks full of songs that i keep in a specific drawer. if i need to get out anything, it escapes my mind in a song”

evie: “my journals are 10% words, 90% drawings.”

jimin: “i have my song journals, but then i have my jimin journals which hold every intimate thought or emotion i have ever felt.”

honey-

hyeyoung: “baby or love. those are what johnny most commonly calls me. he likes to call me angel, too, and that really gets me :) .. we also call each other chipmunk.”

mila: “i used to hate being called lala, but now i love it. it’s also cute when evie calls me baozi, because i call her shumai. i also like bun.”

evie’s is answered on my other post!!

jimin: “uhh... baby, minmin (thanks, jisung), i like when people call me flower too 🥺”

velvet-

hyeyoung: “my first crush? i saw kurt cobain when i was little and thought he was the most handsome man i’d ever seen- i listened to a lot of nirvana growing up. a lot of people don’t expect me to like things like grunge or rock, but it’s very much my style!! im just shy and don’t dress to reflect it.”

mila: “i watched hercules when i was really little and became obsessed with meg. yup. it was the classic ‘i just thought i wanted to be her!’ but nope. gay.”

evie: “i don’t remember?! i think it was when i was in secondary school, because i didn’t like anyone for a while. just this classmate... and i was a cringe little fuck.”

jimin: “the first notable one i remember was when i was in second grade... i was reading twilight and fell in love with edward. yes, i was reading twilight in second grade, yes when i got to breaking dawn my mom didn’t let me read part of the honeymoon. i also had a crush on bella, and to this day, i would be in a throuple with robert pattinson and kristen stewart.”

strawberry-

hyeyoung: “cherries and strawberries, because they taste best covered in chocolate.”

mila: “mangos are so fucking good.”

evie: “grapes are arguably the best fruit and gumdrop grapes are arguably the best kind.”

jimin: “watermelon, bitchesssss”

kiss-

hyeyoung: “i mean, my first kiss was with a boy i was friends with when i was in america. we had both smoked a cigarette before it (i just wanted to try it) so it tasted bad. the other guys i kissed i weren’t proper friends with, and then johnny.”

mila: “um, ive kissed evie, like, when we were dating. i havent kissed many people to be honest...”

evie: “i kissed mila, i’ve kissed lily (a friendly peck), i’ve ALMOST kissed hyeyoung, i’ve kissed some of my guy friends and girl friends predebut- so, yes, i have kissed friends. and people who aren’t friends. i just like to kiss.”

jimin: “... sigh. renjun, chenle, evie, The Ex We Don’t Talk About, yeri (friendly, like with evie), and probably a few other friends in a non-romantic way? i dunno”

shampoo-

hyeyoung: “my favorite scent is johnny’s versace cologne, his shampoo, and his skin. definitely roses. i also love my perfume smell, clean linen, and i love the smell of champagne.”

mila: “i like the smell of cigarettes... YES i know it’s bad, but it calms me down. i’d also pick the smell of rain, or beetle, because he always smells good.”

evie: “the smell of paint and pencils is so comforting. i also like nature smells. when the air smells cold, it’s so nice. and the OCEAN.”

jimin: “home-y smells? laundry, and warm smells... lavender and florals, my perfume, and the smell of summer nights and bonfires. also any of my members.”

lace-

hyeyoung: definitely a dress person, is definitely in love with the classiness and sleeves of that first one, and is definitely happy about how sexy she looks in that second one.

mila: is NOT a dress person and prefers dresses that she can go braless with and are comfortable

evie: this is just Evie and we all know it

jimin: the first one is cute on it’s own AND with a big sweater/sweatshirt over it, and the second one make her feel like she on a european holiday

sapphos-

hyeyoung: “jiminnie :) she writes such beautiful poetry- i’m very thankful that she chose to share some with me!”

mila: “i don’t think i have a favorite poet, to be honest... i like kate bush, though, and i know she’s a singer, but she’s truly a poet.”

evie: “michael faudet. he wrote a series of poetry books, his first is called ‘dirty pretty things’ and it’s really 18+ but i thought it was gorgeous. i have all of his books.”

jimin: “asking me to pick a favorite poet is like asking me to pick a favorite member- can’t do it.”

#nct siren #nct siren;; q&a #nct siren;; misc #just siren things #hyeyoung shon #mila zhou #evie wu #lily na

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i-am-just-a-kiddo · 3 years

Text

get to know me

thank you so much for tagging me, @cortue 💖 this came as a lovely task to do in the morning.

Last Song: Przykro Mi by The Dumplings

recently i am on a hunt for more slavic music and discovering this polish group was an absolute blessing! i’ve been listening to two of their albums repeatedly (Raj and Sea You Later) for the last few days. interestingly i discovered them while hunting for songs to add on my wen kexing inspiration playlist and for some reason this song and a few others made it on there? don’t ask. if any of you have suggestions for slavic or generally east european music, please drop them!

Last Movie: Spirited Away (i think)

we showed this movie to my dad and it’s always a wonderful experience. he didn’t like it as much as we hoped to but it was still lovely to rewatch this gem. the scene of the train ride and the sixth train station seriously changed my life forever, sigh i can’t remember if i’ve watched any other movie since then, because i don’t watch many in general and my memory sucks.

Currently Reading: Oh boy, do these tag games keep reminding me how little i read. i’m not even reading something for uni currently, which is so rare? so all i have is still that native nations poetry anthology When The Light of The World Was Subdued, Our Songs Came Through (ed. Joy Harjo). I’ve read around 50 pages so far, it’s a slow progress but i enjoy just reading a handful of poems before going to sleep. other than that, i picked up Crush by Richard Siken and Yu Xuanji’s poetry (When The Clouds Float North) once again for inspiration purposes. i need to read more in general because i’m noticing that my own writing is a little bit rusty and i need words (also i’ve been neck deep in fics lately)

Currently Watching: Word Of Honor and The Sleuth of The Ming Dynasty

Last week i properly fell into the WOH pit, so i can’t really focus on anything else? which is a nice change after three months of always watching at least five shows at the same time. now i am down to two, and Ming Dynasty is on hold currently until WOH will be over? it’s very enjoyable so far and i really want to get properly into it and give it better attention. technically i am also on a rewatch of Nirvana In Fire with my ppl, which is absolutely amazing because i miss this show every second of my life and love it so much (and technically i am also watching My Beluga Boyfriend with my sister because???? how can you see a title like this and not be absolutely curious what bonkers show this is)

What is antipoetry to you: so i had to look this up and i’m really not familiar with this concept, but the thoughts i had while reading about it, is that i’ve always felt all words can be poetry? no matter what medium or what structure, if they touch something inside me or if their rhythm and sound feel beautiful, it’s poetry. any topics and any themes can be poetry, if the way they are delivered make me feel some emotions; i think i am a person that is a lot into the vibes of words? it’s hard to explain but i think you know what i mean. i don’t think poetry should have fixed structures and rules, but should simply makde people feel

Currently craving: ice cream and more words for my writing

luckily i bought ice cream a few days ago so i can get some later! and i just want for my writing to go smoother - i know i shouldn’t be hard on myself because it’s amazing that i finally found back to it after months of writing nothing! but it still frustrates me that it takes three hours to barely write three pages. idk, i really need to read more so i can just absorb more vocabulary. i guess it’s okay when i am confused because wen kexing is confused as well and writing him is both a joy and curse? it’s fun and i get to dig in deeply, but also i get easily lost in his and my own head. it’s gonna be fine, eventually.

thank you, this was fun! am tagging @vishcount , @sassyassassy, @intyalote, @the-cloud-whisperer.

#man my reading game sucks #i really should start my research for uni #at least then i have something to read #damn #tag game #personal

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inspirationdivine · 4 years

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(Fae) Blood is Thicker || Lydia and Deirdre

Timing: The morning after the Red Room, where Morgan and Remmy found out about Lydia’s humans Parties: @inspirationdivine @deathduty Summary: Deirdre comes to comfort Lydia after her friends leave her. Triggers: Domestic abuse, emotional abuse, physical abuse, gun use reference, head trauma references. No actual abuse in this but lots of apologism

Deirdre nodded back at the security guard as she’d been let in, sparing a quick glance at the last text she’d sent—a quick ‘I’m coming over. Let me in’ to Lydia, followed by the heart emoji so she would know that Deirdre wasn’t coming with anger, only comfort. She didn’t particularly think Lydia would assume she was upset, not like Remmy and Morgan seemed to be, but much seemed to be confusing to her now. She still couldn’t wrap her head completely around what the issue was, but the voice of her mother was clear: only fae understood each other. And so she was here, with understanding and love. “Lydia?” She called out. “I heard what happened. Are you okay? I—where are you? Lydia?”

Lydia had gotten Deirdre's text when it had arrived, and should have gotten dressed. At the very least she should have wiped yesterday’s make up from her face. She had at least the previous night managed to pull off her frilly dress, leaving on her beige slip underneath. She hadn’t so much gotten into bed so much as curled up on top of it and pulled the rest of the duvet over her like a burrito blanket. At some point she’d stopped crying, but she wasn’t convinced at any point that she’d fallen asleep. Her eyes throbbed, her chest ached, and yet the sun had had the gall to rise anyway. Downstairs, the door clicked open, and Lydia heard Deirdre call out for her. It took a moment for her to scrape together the courage to ask. “Up here,” She croaked.

“Up here? Up here? Where is up here?” Deirdre, panicked for the well-being of her friend, glanced around frantically. It occurred to her then, with the flush of her cheeks, that Lydia had meant upstairs. Despite her blunder, she was quick to follow the sound of Lydia’s voice, rushing up the stairs to find her in a state of undress, and clearly not okay. She took Lydia into her arms the moment she could, holding her close and tight. “I’m so sorry,” she mumbled against her hair, “I’m so sorry they found out.” She was sorry that they didn’t understand, she was sorry that they thought of humans like people. She was sorry they’d hurt Lydia, and she was sorry they wouldn’t see her as the good woman that she was anymore. “Were you sleeping?” She asked as she pulled back. “We can go to your bed, if you’d feel better laying there.”

Lydia thought she had run dry of tears, but no, they were just trapped behind another damn. As Deirdre pulled her into her arms the floodgates re opened, new tears spilling down her cheeks without invitation. She didn’t reply nor hug back at first, but shrank into the embrace, leaning into Deirdre as much as she could. Sorry. So was Lydia. She should have locked the door. She should have been more careful. Lydia inhaled shakily before sobbing quietly, her voice croaking. After a long moment, she nodded, curling back into her bed. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t tell her you knew. I’m so sorry.”

Deirdre sat at the edge of Lydia’s bed, beside her, holding her hand as the other moved to soothe her tears. “It’s okay,” she laughed with a quiver, “I would have rather told her myself anyway, which I did...so it’s okay. Don’t worry.” She smiled softly, though there wasn’t much of anything to smile about. “Don’t be sorry, Lydia. It’s--well, I guess you already knew that there are some people who just won’t get it.” Only fae can understand each other...but even Deirdre knew what the fae in White Crest were like. They weren’t as traditional as the kind in Ireland, and the Irish Leanan-Sidhe had far worse prison cells for their humans. These were all things Morgan and Remmy would never understand, but Deirdre did. She knew Lydia, and she loved her all the same. “You’re a good person, you know. They don’t think it, but I do. I love you, my friend.” After a moment, she had decided that simply holding her hand wasn’t enough, and with care, she curled against Lydia on the bed. Of all the things Lydia and her had shared, cuddling was not one, but she didn’t care for the strangeness of it--she’d only wanted to hold Lydia. She only wanted to help her. She wanted to make it okay, make the pain of friends and love loss...okay.

"It’s not. The last thing I want is to come between the two of you. I should have kept-” Lydia breathed shakily, her voice vanishing as it cracked. Deirdre’s voice had quivered. It wasn’t all that okay. She breathed more and more shakily, pressing the back of her hand to her eyes as if she could push the tears back into her face and reverse everything that had happened. “I did, I knew, I knew when I first asked them to move in. The door should have been locked.” She shivered as Deirdre shifted onto the bed. "I love you too," Lydia whispered, curling right into Deirdre's cuddle. It was possibly strange, but after Remmy and Morgan has both rejected her touch, after Morgan's kiss that had burned ice cold, she wanted that loving warmth more than she could articulate. “I knew better than to grow fond of anyone other than fae. I should have been more prepared for this.” As soon as she said it, Lydia knew it was a foolish thing to say. She knew enough of poetry to know that heartbreak didn’t work that way.

“You wouldn’t be coming between us,” Deirdre asserted firmly. “My opinions of humans are nothing new to her and she...we’re okay. The two of us. We’d figure it out. It wouldn’t be on you, Lydia.” It’d been a while since she’d held anyone that wasn’t Morgan, and it took her a moment to remember that Lydia didn’t need, or want, the crushing grip she used on her girlfriend. Her regular, fae body would take a light squeeze better, and Deirdre moved by instinct, tugged along by the magical tether of their species between them. “Don’t say that…” She breathed, “you know that’s not it. You can’t blame yourself for loving Remmy, for not being prepared to lose them. That’s not your fault.” Morgan’s words rushed to her mind, though the conversation had been perplexing, she took away that there was an issue with how Lydia chose to treat Chloe. While what that issue was nameless in Deirdre’s mind, part of her whispered that something here must have been Lydia’s fault. Just what it was, she wouldn’t dare give power in her voice. “Remmy...wasn’t going to understand. But you weren’t wrong to love them, to give them a home, to care. I think you know, better than anyone else, that the things you do aren’t the kind that makes friends. But it wasn’t your fault to have hoped. And if that door was left open somehow, you can’t blame yourself for that either.”

How is that fair? Lydia wanted to ask, suddenly. When Deirdre had known from nearly the start, when Deirdre had praised Lydia for being so generous with her space, how was it that Morgan could forgive Deirdre for being involved when she couldn’t spare any such consideration from Lydia? When she’d tried to steal from Lydia. “And I would have loved you, if you’d ever let me,” Morgan had said. Lydia couldn’t feel any smaller if she’d tried right now, but she wanted to try even if it would crack her ribs. That would be the lesser pain now.

It felt, right now, ever so foolish to let herself love a zombie, especially one who had changed so recently. Every single argument Lydia’d had with Morgan was about how human Morgan still was despite everything. Remmy had been just as bad, but they had been quiet and soft and full of love, looking for guidance rather than conflict. It was part of what had made them so easy to love. That love had led her to betray her own kind for them. That same love had let her show Morgan just what she was capable of. Perhaps, if she hadn’t been so eager to help Morgan, none of this would have been so bad. “It was my fault. Deirdre, I’ve made so many mistakes since… since that wretched leech got in here. I damaged a painting, I keep promise binding people only to get it wrong, I accidentally promise bound myself the other day, completely unintentionally. And I killed Sammy. Not by feeding off him, but with a gun. I can’t think straight, I can’t- It’s my fault. I don’t-” Lydia pressed her face into Deirdre’s shoulder to muffle a sob. “I don’t think they’re coming back.” Ever, Lydia thought, and that thought alone wrapped around her throat and choked her.

Deirdre’s hand found Lydia’s hair, brushing through the strands. She tried to straighten out the mess, and leave it as immaculate as Lydia liked it. “Okay, so you’ve made some mistakes then,” she said casually, as though the worst thing Lydia had done was toss a red sock in with her white laundry. “Maybe you can’t fix all of them, but you can start with some, if you’d like. Or you can take a minute, rest, and come back to it. Blaming yourself like this doesn’t help. You’re smart, Lydia, you’ll get back up.” She pressed her lips to the side of Lydia’s head, mumbling the rest of her comfort there. Though the shock of hearing of Sammy’s death clicked against Remmy’s account of gunfire, she let neither play in her voice or across her features. “It’s okay,” she cooed, “it’s okay.” But if it was or wasn’t, she didn’t know. Her only desire was to make it okay, somehow. “Maybe not. Morgan said she’d be by to pick up Remmy’s things. As I understood it, her issue is more with how you treat Chloe. Remmy’s problem with it is...probably far more broad.” She sighed, and tucked more hair back behind Lydia’s ear. “It’s okay,” she pressed another kiss there, “I’ll stay here with you, okay? For the whole day, for the week, if you want that. We’ll figure it out, okay? I’ll help you think straight, if you need it. And you’ll be okay, Lydia. I will always love you, and we can figure out what you want to do next.” She smiled warmly, though Lydia’s face was too far buried into her neck to see. “But we don’t need to do any of that now. Just tell me what you’re feeling. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I’d love to see Morgan control a human as long as I do without having to treat them like- It was a bad moment. Anneliese never needed that kind of treatment. I’m not defending it, I don’t like it myself, I-” Lydia choked on the lump in her throat, what had started as a vicious retort had quickly melted into her own heartache, already missing the padding of quiet feet on the hardwood floors as Remmy made this house their home. She sobbed as Deirdre pressed a kiss to her hairline, and promised to be there, for as long as Lydia needed. Right now, that felt like forever. “I love you,” she murmured between crackling sobs, “I love you,” she repeated until her voice faded into nothing and her sobs subsided into painful, heavy breathing. Lydia had made this mistake before, but she’d forgotten how suffocating grief could be. “The basement, it’s an old bunker. There was an escape tunnel, this whole time and i didn’t know it. They’ve been creeping out for months. I should be better than that, I fucked up, if I hadn’t been more careful with the promises, it could have-” Lydia cut herself off, reaching up to wipe away her tears. “Sammy got bitten by something. I- panicked. I made the wrong choice, I think. I think I murdered him. And now this, and fuck, I- Felix is dating a human, I can’t help you or Regan with this training thing, Jared had a bad mushroom season. I feel more lost than I have since I was in my twenties, like that bloodsucker tried to drag me down into the mud with him.”

“I don’t think I was very good at trying to explain that to her…” Deirdre sighed, understanding Lydia’s point, though she was ashamed at how happy she felt to hear Lydia admonish it. They were human, and it shouldn’t have mattered how Lydia treated them. What else was she going to do? Manipulation was the easiest way to deal with humans who thought they loved and adored her, the best way to keep them still and quiet. Deirdre understood this. She told herself over and over again, under each admission of love from Lydia, that she knew this. And she knew, better than Lydia did, that the leanan-sidhe in Ireland were far less kind. If there was an escape tunnel in their prison bunker, they probably would have done away with the insolent humans right there and then. This cruelty, that normalcy in which she had grown up in it, made her feel as though she ought to praise Lydia for being different. Lydia’s story was a little hard to follow, but she held her comments (bitten by what? Why did you need to kill him? What does Felix’s romantic life have to do with anything--and also, what? No one wants to help with the training, and Jared’s mushroom season seemed great to her). “Something terrible happened to you, Lydia, something you couldn’t have predicted and something you’re not used to. Wouldn’t it be natural to feel unlike yourself? To feel lost in the wake of having your security stolen?” She shifted, moving to thumb Lydia’s tears away herself. Suddenly sure that she shouldn’t have to wipe them alone. “But you’re not gone, Lydia. You’re here, and you’re you, and you’ve done some things you regret but you can do plenty more that you’re proud of. You’re okay, Lydia. You’re going to be okay.” Deirdre was sure at that point she was only mumbling nonsensical reassurances; she would have said anything to stop Lydia’s crying, to take her pain away. “I love you and I believe in you, Lydia. And I’ll be here, no matter what.”

Lydia had no idea how little sense she made, because now Deirdre had welcomed the floodgates. There were so many spinning plates she felt like she was dropping at the moment, people she wanted to help but couldn’t. Remmy leaving felt like a punishment for loving them so openly. “I hate it. I hate making mistakes, I hate feeling off balance. I hate that… And now they’re not coming back. I have to pack up their stuff and I don’t even know how to get out of this bed. He could come back at any time and come back to take more.” The vampire wasn’t even the only one who was taking from her now. If that wolf welp hadn’t tried to take Sammy, Remmy would never have become as suspicious as they were, and Lydia wouldn’t have such an empty home. “What did I do to deserve a friend as wonderful as you?” Lydia held Deirdre tightly, because it was the only salve for the hurt in her chest. Every murmured declaration of love pierced through that suffocating heartache. “People wonder why I favour fae, but how can I not, when you are here, when they are not?”

“I’ll pack their things.” Deirdre declared. “I can do it. And he won’t come back for more, you’ve got your security and me. And you can stay in this bed as long as you want, and I can stay here with you.” It seemed simple enough to her; she loved Lydia, and she would stay. Whatever affairs needed to be fixed, she would help fix. Whatever tears needed to be wiped, she would wipe. Whatever humans needed to be killed, she could kill. It was fair to her, and nothing short of what she wanted for Lydia. “You’re pretty great, Lydia. You’ve done plenty to deserve kindness.” Lydia’s humans and their basement didn’t flicker across the movie screen of her mind. She saw scenes of that day crumpled on the hotel floor in Lydia’s arm; she thought of the damp alley outside of that mime bar; of all their evenings sharing wine, and Lydia’s immediate help with Regan’s father. The Lydia she knew was kind and generous, shrewd and proud. She was a fae, the way fae ought to be, and Deirdre had come to realize how lonely the perfect ideal was. Lydia was a person, with her flaws and merits, and Deirdre loved her all the same. But as Lydia said it, she knew they were fae, and she knew that was the basis of their friendship, even as something stung to hear it. “Fae understand each other best,” she mumbled back.

“No,” Lydia murmured. She wanted to hold their things one last time. It was so strange a desire that for a moment Lydia could not reconcile it with anything else. They hadn’t been lovers, there was no secret memento Lydia wanted to pick out for herself. Part of her still didn’t truly believe they weren’t coming back. If there was any way to hold Remmy for a last few lingering moments, if only by running her hand over the back of their jacket or flicking through their art books one last time. “Can we do it together?” She offered after a moment, her ears suddenly ringing with Remmy’s question.

Could that have been me?

It was physically impossible to press closer to Deirdre, and yet Lydia tried, desperate for any last bit of comfort. “I feel like being my friend has brought you more hardship than it should have done,” she said softly, and thought instead of Emma Mushrow, and the horrid fall out from that. Deirdre sobbing in a hotel floor because she had been too afraid to tell Lydia about her human lover, and hadn’t she been right? Felix still wouldn’t answer after Lydia’s outburst. Deirdre was sometimes the fae Lydia wished she was, braver, bolder, better at their particular breed of chaos. She had wondered if the human influence of her mother had made Lydia less prone to the type of chaos Deirdre excelled at, and to top it all off Deirdre was kinder. “You and I understand each other best,” Lydia agreed softly, and somehow, through the chiming resonance in Lydia’s chest and Deirdre’s soothing words settling over her like a blanket, Lydia’s sobs had subsided.

“We can.” Deirdre smiled, “we can do anything you want together. Anything and everything or nothing at all.” Deirdre didn’t know loss like this well, it seemed like her whole life was loss. She didn’t know comfort well either, or emotion, but it almost didn’t matter. Lydia had become indescribably precious to her, and everything else fell into place around them. She held her close and tight and willed her pain to go someplace else. “How funny,” she laughed softly, as if afraid the sound would hurt Lydia. “I feel like being your friend has brought my life more ease and delight. You know, some hardships are to be expected in any relationship, and I don’t mind yours, Lydia. I love you, and I care about you, and I appreciate our friendship and I treasure it.” She pressed another kiss to the side of Lydia’s head, wondering if the other fae could feel her smile. “I don’t regret knowing you.” Lydia had, perhaps unwittingly, taught Deirdre more about being fae than any other had. For that, no matter what happened, she would always be thankful. “I think we do, Lydia. I think we do.”

#domestic abuse tw #emotional abuse tw #physical abuse tw #head trauma tw #chatzy #para #gun use tw

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blackaquokat · 4 years

Text

The Song You Might Have Been (Chapter 6)

Link to Chapter 1 and Chapter 5 !

A/N: This one is a little short, my apologies. And this is around the point I got stuck back during NaNoWriMo, so I can’t promise consistent updates from here on out, but I promise it’s not over yet.

The poem quoted at the end is called “Wild Duck” by Lola Ridge. It’s a lovely piece.

And I’m a horrible person, because I keep forgetting to credit @timelords-13 as my beta for this fic. Your help is greatly appreciated, my dear, and I apologize for falling off the wagon!

---

When you wake up, feeling strung out and dried of all the moisture in your body, you realize you’ve been tucked into your bed. You blink the sleep out of your eyes and see Yancy at the foot, legs crossed underneath him, reading the Sound and the Fury.

“Have you been there all night?” you croak.

“Not a bad book, this one,” Yancy says. “A little...boring, but the writing’s nice. Confusing--”

“It switches perspectives a lot,” you agree. You wipe the crust from your eyes. “You...why did…” You sit up, slowly. “You stayed down here with me?”

Yancy shrugs. “Youse asked me to.”

“No, I didn’t. Not really.”

Yancy looks sheepish. You’d dare say vulnerable. “Don’t push youse’s luck, we’ve got plans to make.”

His reminder pulls you further into the waking world. “I assumed you were joking, last night, when you said you had a plan.” You lean closer to him. “You were joking, right?”

“Does this look like the face of a joker, to you?” Yancy winks. “Listen, youse was right. This is big. I can only do so much to keep you safe if even the guards can be turned by this guy youse investigating. So, best bet?” He shuts the book dramatically and tosses it between the two of you. “I get you back on the outside, youse take down the guy trying to kill you, and I get no more assassinations I don’t order myself in here.”

You roll your eyes. This is mostly a cover to keep you from outwardly freaking out over the fact that Yancy just said he’d break you out of prison. “You are so lucky I’m off the clock. So where do we go from here?”

Yancy taps his fingers against his chin. “I need to get some...affairs in order. But we should be good to go by tonight.”

“So soon? You don’t need more time to plan?”

“Eagle, I know every single nook and cranny in this place. Getting out’ll be a piece of cake. Just gotta wait for nightfall again.”

You nod. “Enough time to...to say good-byes. Or, well, I imagine you don’t want me giving away the plan, so...I’ll be subtle.”

“Eh.” Yancy waves his hand dismissively. “I think some of them suspect. They’ll help you get ready, no worries.” He leans forward to whisper conspiratorially, “Might wanna give them a refresher on that library system youse trying to set up.”

---

It catches you off-guard, the realization that you aren’t going to get to hang out with Yancy’s group in this capacity ever again. (What does it say about you that you have no doubts that Yancy will get the two of you out without a hitch?) Here you are, standing with them in the yard, wondering how the hell you can cope with saying good-bye.

Oddly enough, they make it easier for you. Jimmy pulls you right in for a hug. “Yancy may not have wanted to see it, but we knew you wouldn’t stay here forever. Good luck on the outside, Eagle.”

You receive similar farewells from Sparkles, Shithole Hank, and Bam-Bam. Tiny, on the other hand tackles you hard into a much harder hug than Jimmy’s. “Don’t die out there, Eagle.”

“I’ll do my best, Tiny.” You hug her back. “Look, I’m going to get that volunteer program for the library set up as soon as possible. Every third Sunday won’t be enough to see all of you guys. You all better stay safe too, okay?”

And then, later, when you’re heading back to your cell, Rex passes by and nudges your arm gently with his club. “I’ll miss seeing you in that cell, Eagle. But I better not see you in there again, you hear?”

You can’t help but laugh, despite how serious he looks. “I hear you, Rex. I’ll try to get more poetry sent to you, okay?”

Rex turns away and strolls down the hall, but not before you hear him sniffling.

Yancy is waiting for you in the cell, on his top bunk. “You ready, Eagle?”

You suck in a breath and let it out, taking one last look around the cell. The one that was decorated after you started reading poetry to the inmates every night.

This was very close to a home for a long time. You won’t forget that.

“Yeah, I think I’m ready.”

“Good.” Yancy pops up and holds up a long length of black cloth. “Now, before we do, I need you to put this on.”

“...I’d like to remind you of my trust issues--”

“Listen, Eagle, much as I like you, I don’t need anyone else knowin’ the way out of here. You think it’d be so good for peoples in here to be breakin’ out when they shouldn’t be breakin’ out? Didn’t think so, now put the blindfold on and we’ll get started.”

You take in a breath through your nose and take the blindfold from him. “It’s cute that you think I’d broadcast the path out of the prison.”

“I’d rather not take my chances, Eagle, now youse wanna be free or what?”

---

“And here we are!”

The blindfold drops from your face and you take a step back in utter astonishment.

You’re outside. On the other side of the prison gate. The free side. Just yards away is the woods.

Yancy’s still inside, looking ridiculously pleased with himself. “Told ya I knew all the nooks and crannies, didn’t I? Oh, and uh, one other thing.” He flicks his hand and the photo of your mother suddenly appears between his fingers. “I took a little detour by the warden’s office for a ‘chat’ and thought I’d swipe this back for youse.”

So the warden is most likely dead, you think. I’ll need to work on my surprise when it pops up in the paper later.

Your thumb traces over your mom’s face. The lump in your throat grows and you try to clear it so you can speak again. “Thank you.”

It doesn’t hit you until that moment. You’re out. You’re free. You’re not out of the woods (literally or figuratively), but this is a start. You can seriously get to work on your case and get your name cleared.

And yet...you can’t bring yourself to look away from Yancy.

When you don’t immediately run off, Yancy’s brow furrows. “Everythin’ alright, Eagle? Freedom is just a gander-on that way.” He points behind you. You can’t tell if you’re imagining the slight trembling in his hand or not.

“Yancy,” you start. You don’t know if you’re just stretching out this last moment together or if you’re honestly hoping he’ll accept the offer you’re about to make, but here you are. You can’t help but feel like if you don’t at least mention it, that you’ll regret it later. “Do you want me to look into your case? See if I can get you a parole hearing scheduled?”

You try to make it clear that this is his choice. That you aren’t presuming what he wants. That you aren’t coming from a place of pity. Lord knows this man has a big issue with pity and presumptions.

Yancy seems floored by your offer. But the next moment, he shakes his head. “I’d...nah, don’t do that. I’ve done bad things, Eagle. A lot of them. And...well, I belong here.” He gestures back at the prison. “This is home.” He doesn’t sound as sure as he normally does. “I...it is for now, I mean, I don’t...”

You nod your head slowly and pocket the picture. “Well...if you change your mind, or if parole comes up without my help and you decide to take it…my guest room is pretty cozy.”

You can’t bring yourself to look at him. You’re offering the human equivalent of a semi-feral street cat a place to live and somehow you are not questioning your sanity at doing so.

(The last person to live with you besides your mom was Damien, but those days are long past. Maybe...maybe it’d be nice to have a housemate again.)

Eventually, you look back up and, to your surprise, Yancy looks as if you just plucked the moon from the sky and handed it to him.

How can I say good-bye to you? How can I just leave you here? I know it’s what you want, that you’re taking responsibility for your crimes, and it’s one of the reasons I think I--

No, no, cut that thought off at the roots, do not even let it linger--

“I’ll, erm…” Yancy clears his throat. “I’ll keep that in mind, Eagle.” His hand rubs anxiously at the back of his neck. “Maybe when parole comes around, I’ll...maybe…” He shakes his head hard, then, and forces a grin. “Anyway, I better get back. Don’t get arrested again, and hey, don’t forget about visitation! Every third Sunday, Eagle, you hear?!”

“Yancy, wait--!”

But he’s already faded back into the shadows. Back into the prison.

The gaping ache of regret in your chest threatens to swallow you whole. Out of nowhere, you remember Lola Ridge.

So my soul...emptied of the known you...utterly... / Is yet vibrant with the cadence of the song / You might have been…

You swallow past the tumor in your throat. You force your hands to release the bars of the gate. One step back. Another. Another. Another. Until you manage to turn away and scurry into the woods.

The last line of that damn poem drops into your brain like a feather, but no less devastating than a comet crushing and burning you to ash.

A word that rattles well in emptiness: / Good-by.

---

Thank you for reading! Please reblog/comment! If you want to be tagged/untagged for the rest of this series or this pairing, please leave a message in my inbox!

@starcrossedforever87 , @dontworryaboutanything , @beereblogsstuff , @falseroar , @intemperantiae , @memetoyoko , @soul-wolf , @marki-dumb , @withjust-a-bite , @raimeyl , @scribbeetle , @its-dari , @neverisadork , @silver-owl413 , @sassy-in-glasses , @chelseareferenced , @sketchy-scribs-n-doods , @axolittle-boi , @wildfandom , @shrinkthisviolet , @purple-anxiety-blog , @conceitedink , @skidspace , @missksketch , @day-dreaming-fox ,

#kat writes #prison attorney #ahwm yancy #ahwm #y/n district attorney #wkm #who killed markiplier #why do we have to say goodbye?#when we don't know why it hurts so much?

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writers-hes · 4 years

Text

five years.

hello! here is the first part of a five part series called “five years”. it’s inspired by an article i read in the new york times. i really recommend/suggest you read it here.

five years -- year 0.

in which harry and you meet for the first time.

WARNING: unedited.

contains: fluff !

----------

“Danny!” Harry yelled as he saw one of his mates from his English classes. Harry was currently a psychology student, set to graduate in a few months. He was well known around the campus for being loud and kind to everyone. He was a part of humanitarian orgs and liked coffee a lot. He was usually hanging out at The Bean, a small coffee shop near uni. To him, The Bean was his second home. In fact, Angela, the pretty barista already knew his usual order. Harry tried to ask her out on a date and they went out for one date only to realise that it was weird, seeing as they treated each other like how siblings do.

“Hey, Harry! Nice to see you,” Danny greeted back. Danny was Harry’s classmate in a couple of his Psychology classes. He was tall and lanky. He had shiny black hair that he dyes every other month. He wore thick-rimmed glasses because of his bad vision. He was also Harry’s best friend in uni. He and Harry liked to study together because Danny always had the complete notes and Harry always had something else to say that would make the subject easier to understand fro Danny.

“I already ordered myself some coffee, by the way.” Harry said as he motioned to his glass tumbler. “You can go ahead and order something that you like I’ll wait out here,” he added. Danny nodded and walked towards Angela. He ordered two cups of coffee—one caramel latte and one homemade milk tea. He paid and waited for his orders and went back to his table with Harry.

“Uh, is someone else coming?” Harry asked as soon as he saw two reusable glasses of caffeine.

“Oh, yeah. I’m sorry I forgot to tell you, H. My friend is coming over. She’s a Lit major and she’s picking up some of the books she lent Zo,” Danny said. He laid the milk tea down and took out three books from his backpack, all collections of poetry from Charles Bukowksi, Oscar Wilde, and Ocean Vuong.

“So you buy her a drink, huh?” Harry teased, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Nah, not really. It was Zo who told me to buy her a drink,” Danny rolled his eyes. “He didn’t even give me some money for it,” he grumbled.

“Don’t worry, Dan. I’m sure you’ll get something else later!” Harry joked and laughed. Zo was Danny’s boyfriend for two years. He was also taking up Lit and met Danny through one of their English classes.

“Shut up, Harry!”

———

“Say, what time is Zo’s friend coming over?” Harry asked. It’s been forty-seven minutes since Danny arrived. The ice from the tea Danny got her condensed. Harry stared at the layer of water separated from the layer of milk and tea.

“Uh, not sure,” Danny said, looking up from his notes. “I told her that I’ll be here for the whole day and she said that she’ll be here after she’s done with her classes.” Harry nodded and went back to reading his notes. He wondered who could it be. Zo and Danny never really mentioned that friend…perhaps they were new? It’s not like Harry loved to be nosey—it’s because the milk tea was starting to deteriorate and it’s so damn annoying.

“So, are you letting her drink that?” he said, pointing at perfectly good drink forty five minutes ago.

“Don’t know. Might drink it myself. You can have it if you like, I’ll get her a new drink.” Just then, Danny’s phone let out a ‘ping’. “Ah, she’s outside. I’ll just text her to come in here,” Danny said, typing for a few seconds on his phone. The door opened seconds later and there was you.

You jogged on to where Danny was sat. “I’m sorry I made you wait, Dan! I had to stop by one of my professors to submit my classmates’ papers,” you breathed.

“It’s alright, misery,” Danny chuckled. “Oh, by the way! This is Harry,” he said, motioning Harry who was already looking at you. You smiled uncomfortably. “Harry, this is y/n, but Zo calls her ‘misery’,”

“Why did you submit your classmates’ papers?” Harry asked.

“Oh, I’m the beadle for my creative writing class,” you replied.

“Where are you going to next?” Danny asked.

“Oh, I’m going to Kismet to study,” you tell him.

“Kismet is closed, didn’t you hear? They’ve been doing some renovations. You should study here instead,” Harry interjected. “Besides, Danny got you a drink from Zo,”

“Oh, uh—is that okay?”

“Yeah. Don’t worry about him,” Danny replied. You take a seat beside Danny and in front of Harry.

“Thanks for the drink, by the way. I’m sorry I’m late,” you whispered to Danny while leaning on his shoulder. You took the cold glass of tea and mixed the water with what Danny really paid for. You took a sip and finished it in seconds, to avoid the tea getting more watery.

You loved to wear sweaters even on summers. You loved to have your hair tied up so your hair wouldn’t get in the way of your clear-rimmed glasses. You had poor eyesight and a bad back. You liked tea and coffee but loved hot cocoa the best. You’re the sweet day on a hot summer. You were welcoming and warm.

“By the way, it was nice meeting you, y/n.” Harry said from across the table.

———

Harry never really saw you after your encounter even though you saw him all the time. You just knew when he was near. He never left your mind ever since you met him at The Bean more than a week ago. You were always watching out for him and the possibility of him bumping into you and saying “hi” made you more alive than caffeine. What was with that curly haired boy?

“So, I heard Kismet is finally open…” Zo said. You just finished one of your classes together and had a four hour vacant.

“Ah, can we go there please? I miss my rose latte,” you pouted.

“It’s not even that good. You just order it because it makes you feel like a Tumblr girl,” Zo chuckled.

“Hey! Not true. I really like the taste! It’s not that sweet and not that strong either,” you retorted while bumping your sides with him.

“You know who would like it? Harry. You met him, yeah?”

“Yeah. I still feel a guilty for making him and Danny wait. Please tell them I’m sorry,” you pouted. Zo smiled at your sincerity. He knew that Harry and Danny didn’t mind—they were literally the most patient people he ever met. Well, not so much for Harry but he’s good enough.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the campus, Harry was rushing to get to one of his majors. He had his textbooks and iPad in hand while speed walking to the designated room. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he mumbled repeatedly. He couldn’t believe he didn’t notice the time. He was too busy catching up with some of his friends from high school who visited. He was zooming past the corridor when he heard a loud ‘hey’. He turned around and saw you with one of his dear friends, Zo, behind him. He lost balance and fell on his butt, his iPad and books lading on the floor.

“Harry!” Zo gasped as he jogged to Harry. “What happened?”

“Was rushing to my psych class and lost balance,” he huffed. You jogged towards the scene and started picking up what fell down.

“Here you go,” you smiled as you waited for Harry to get back up on his feet. He took his stuff from you. He was so red and you couldn’t help but chuckle a little.

“What are you laughing at?” he asked.

“You’re so red! Are you sure you’re alright?” you asked.

“Yeah…happens to me all the time,” he mutters. He looks at his wrist watch and sighed. “gotta go! Say hi to Danny for me, Zo! And it was nice seeing you again, y/n!” he said as he shuffled and power-walked to his next room.

Harry couldn’t believe it. Before he could even ask for your number, you saw him falling down like a wuss. How will you think he’s cool now? It’s not like he fell in a cool way. He groaned and slowly treaded in front of the class room. He entered and thanked the universe because the professor wasn’t there yet. He sat in his usual seat and opened his iPad and got his Pencil when he received a text from one of his mates, Louis.

Louis Tomlindaughter: oi! u wanna go down to niall’s for the viewing party?????

harry: Can’t. I have to study for a major exam tomorrow.

Louis Tomlindaughter: nerd! next time if you say no im gonna go there my fuckin self and drag u smh !

harry: Sorry. Maybe next time.

Louis Tomlindaughter: alright then but if u dont get a good grade in ur exam im gonna tell y/n how dumb u are ! hehehe 🤭

Louis knew that Harry had a crush on you. Right after he met you, he met up with Louis and Zayn for some burgers. He couldn’t stop gushing about how warm and nice you were. He didn’t stop talking about how you offered him half of your chocolate chip cookie. He also didn’t stop talking about how pretty you looked that time in your baggy sweater and clear-rimmed glasses. Louis never really knew you or bothered to. Zayn and you knew each other because you would aways see each other at Kismet. It seemed like you and Harry ran in the same social circle but you just never really met. He didn’t even wanna go to class anymore. He just wanted to go to you so you can finally talk to him without the interruption of academics. When you were at The Bean, you barely looked at each other, too busy studying and highlighting notes. He sighed.

Danny: hey are you going 2 niall’s viewing party l8r???

hairstyles: No. I have a major exam tomorrow.

Danny: u can study w zo! im leaving him alone tonight and u know how he is. he loves study dates because it makes him focus

hairstyles: Oh? Alright. I’ll text him.

cimmamom roll harry: Hey, Zo. I heard you’re studying tonight. Can I come?

Zo: SURE

cimmamom roll harry: Cool. What time and where?

Zo: KISMET AT 7PM !!!

cimmamom roll harry: Okay. See you then! x

Harry really wanted to go to Niall’s viewing party. It was the premier of Stranger Things 3 and he wanted nothing more that to watch it with his friends. However, time didn’t permit him because he had to study. He was so tired, only functioning when there’s caffeine around. The Bean was basically his second home and although he never tried it at Kismet because he was too afraid to try something new, he was looking forward to it.

7 p.m. came quickly and he was outside Kismet, a brown and white coffee place. The decorations were mostly made up of different wood and burlap. The accents were black and the paint was white. There were also little succulents and cactuses littering the shop from the windowsills to the high tables. He opened the door and heard the bells chime. He looked for Zo only to find you sitting at a brown solo couch. Harry decided to go to you first.

“Hey, y/n, right?”

You looked up from your textbook to find the curly haired boy that never seemed to leave your mind.

“Yeah. Hi, Harry,” you smile at him. It seemed like butterflies erupted in Harry’s stomach when you said his name. Your accent made his name sound better.

“Uh, are you going to study with Zo?” he asked. You noticed how slow he talked. He mumbled his words and his accent was thick.

“Well, I was supposed to. But he said he wouldn’t be able to go in the last minute,” you tell him.

“Is it alright if I study with you, then? Was supposed to study with Zo too but I suppose that’s not gonna happen tonight,” He was really hoping that you would say yes.

“Sure! No problem. Just lay your stuff on the table and I’ll watch you stuff while you order,” you tell him, motioning on the empty chair in front of you. Harry nodded and did what you told him too. he said thanks before leaving to get his order.

Zo: thnx me l8er harry ;)

Meanwhile, Harry was freaking out when he saw Zo’s text. He didn’t know he would be alone with you. Sure, Zo and Danny was doing him a favour and all that but—wait. How did Zo and Danny knew he was crushing on you?

“Hello! What may I get for you today?” a blue-haired girl asked Harry once he was in front of the cashier.

“Hi,” he looked at the girl’s name tag, “Rue. What are your crowd favourites here?”

“Well, we got a lot! We have rose latte, apricot tea with aloe vera, grape cheezo tea, brown sugar milk, condensed milk coffee, and ca phe sua. I personally like the brown sugar milk and rose latte. The rose latte is our signature drink,” Rue informed.

“I’ll have that, yeah. Large. I’ll also get two herb and and tomato linguine, please. With buttered bread and extra cheese, yeah?”

“That will be…5.50 for the latte and then…25 flat for the pasta.” Rue said. Harry handed his credit card to Rue and told her to take something for a tip. Rue declined, telling him that it was fine—he was also a student and he didn’t have to. He opted for some loose cash from his pockets instead and put it into the tip jar. Rue thanked him repeatedly before he left the station to go back to where you sat and wait for his orders.

“I hope you haven’t had dinner yet,” he said as soon as he settled himself on the comfy couch.

“Oh, no. Not yet, why?” you asked.

“Because I got you some pasta. It would be foolish of me to get two pastas of the same kind, yeah?”

“Well, maybe you really like the pasta. Who am I to judge?” you teased.

“Not really a pasta man. More of a steak man myself,” he mentioned.

“Ugh. I would kill for a steak right after the exams,” you told him. The past week, you have’t been eating full meals because of how busy you were. Caffeine and instant ramen was your go-to. if you were lucky, you would be able to make a quick stop to McDonald’s and get some nuggets.

Harry’s orders arrived soon after and you thanked him as he handed the red sauced pasta to you.

“So, what are you studying?” he asked you.

“Not really studying but our final project is to compare two complete different poets together,” you told him.

“Oh? Who did you pick?”

“Bukowski and Wilde. I really love Bukowski and he was my major influence in all of my poems,” you told him.

“I don’t really know him that much but I stumbled upon one of his works before. I think it was Into the Arms of Another? It had those words but I remembered liking it a lot,”

“Out of the Arm of One Love, you mean?” you corrected. “It’s actually one of his more famous works if I’m not mistaken but yeah, I love that poem too,”

“Who’s your favourite poet?” he asked you.

“I really love Virginia Wolfe, Maya Angelou, Ocean Vuong…but for me, Bukowski would always take the cake. The way he writes his poetry is so direct and sad. The emotions are very violent and I just really love him,” you gushed.

He smiled at you. What was with you that pulled him? Is it your intellect? Or is it because you were so damn beautiful?

“If it’s okay with you…can you show me more of his works?” he asked you. Harry surprised himself. He never really liked reading but he was suddenly so interested in what you were interested in. For you, the stranger he met two weeks ago, he was willing to read some poetry so he wouldn’t look like such a dummy. He never really liked changing for other people but what was with you?

“Yeah, of course! You can have my number. We can talk to each other there,” you told him. You wrote your number on a scrap paper and gave it to Harry. You surprised yourself. You never did this to other guys so what was with this lanky boy with good fashion taste? He took the paper from your hands and the soft touch of your skin to his was a shot of electricity between the both of you. You both immediately pulled away, shocked.

“Erm, yeah, thanks,” he muttered. you immediately go back to the books you were reading and he opening his psychology textbook. He fished for his pencil case inside his bag. He took his pink highlighter and started to highlight terms. You sat in awkward silence for a little bit but it soon turned into a peaceful silence. You may have talked less but you were enjoying each others’ company.

The cafe soon announced its last call. It was nearing midnight so you both packed up your things. You walked outside the cafe with him in silence.

“Hey, y/n?”

“Mmm…?”

“Where do you live? I’ll take you,” he told you.

“Oh, it’s fine. You don’t need to do anything,” you told him.

“I insist.”

You informed him your address and just like in the cafe, you walked in peaceful silence until you reach your building.

“Here I am,” you announced. “Thanks for the pasta, bye the way.”

“It’s nothing. Hey, you said you would kill for a steak after finals, right? Why don’t I take you out then?” he asked. You smiled at him and nodded. You hugged him and ran to your flat. What was with that curly haired boy with perfect posture?

Harry arrived at his soon after, wondering what the hell was with the girl with bad posture? You wore a pink sweater on your ‘study date’ so Harry painted his nails pink.

#harry #Harry Styles #harrystyles #harry styles fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfiic #fluff #college #styles #fluffy #first date #first meeting

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gustingirl · 3 years

Text

here, have your y/n moment

Josh: But, well, I have this crush on this girl.

Jake: Mmm-hmm.

Josh: That’s all.

Jake: That’s all?

Josh: And I think about her lot, and I dance at the kitchen at 3am.

Jake: Joshy! You got to be kidding me.

Josh: And I secretly whisper poetry to myself in my room at night.

Jake: Josh, that stuff’s not weird. Those are just- well, the poetry thing is weird.

#creds: ?#gvf #gvfincorrect #incorrect greta van fleet texts #incorrect greta van fleet text #incorrect greta van fleet quotes #incorrect greta van fleet quote #greta van fleet #josh kiszka #sam kiszka #jake kiszka #danny wagner

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theexistentiallyqueer · 5 years

Text

"but he murdered people”

This is a post about Goro Akechi, murder, its aftermath, trauma, and two things that are in real short fucking supply around here: critical thinking and empathy.

Listen, I’m a veteran of the Dragon Age fandom. If you want to talk about toxic fandoms, they’re your Bible. As far as your Judas Iscariots and Nebuchadnezzars go, I was one of them. I’ve seen it, I’ve done it, and I’m done with it. It’s exhausting to carry that much rage inside of you, to live it actively every second of every day, and to inflict it on other people and laugh about it. So I’ve been disengaged, largely, for a few years.

And now I’m in the Persona 5 fandom and find myself enthusiastically appreciating Goro Akechi, because who doesn’t love complex, morally flawed, ambiguously gay-coded characters? Shit, maybe you’re not on board, but I’ll sign right up. I’m a relative newcomer, despite being a longtime Persona fan and playing P5 around when it came out, because I didn’t engage with the fandom then. I jumped back in with the Royal announcement and absolutely saturated myself in this vibrant fan space. Invested in the idea of Akechi being explored as a fully fleshed-out character, I find myself following Goroboys. Which is great! Because so far, they’re all great! Nicest bunch of people you could ever hope to meet!

Except there’s Discourse. There’s always been Discourse, I find, but this is my first exposure to it in this fandom. This weekend was my first week of seeing Goro antis active, seeing people I follow, people I like and appreciate and some I considering genuine friends, actively attacked and harassed because they like a fictional teenage character who killed some other fictional people in a fictional world where you, playing as the main character, have the ability to perform a metaphysical lobotomy on people who literally can’t consent. Here I thought the only people who hated Akechi were white cishet men who saw his rage against a parent and said, “Nah, too bitchy for me,” because they’re too afraid to look in a mirror and see Masayoshi Shido’s fascist, misogynistic mug staring back.

Are you awake yet? Have I woken you up to the fact that Persona 5′s premise is a wish-fulfillment fantasy of “what if I could make the person who took advantage of me when I was a teenager apologize in front of the entire world by using an alternate fantasy dimension to completely violate their brain”?

I see my friends saying, “Wow, it’s amazing how people who hate Akechi can’t leave people who like Akechi alone,” and within an hour they have replies saying MURDER IS MURDER as if they know what murder actually is.

We’re about to get real personal up in here because maybe, only then, will some of you people take the hint that your behavior borders on actively bullying other people on the internet over a fictional character.

Ready? Here goes.

Murder is your mom picking you up from summer camp three weeks after your ninth birthday, driving you to your grandparents’ house, and telling you that when daddy was at work today, someone tried to steal the money, and they had a gun. Daddy was brave and Daddy died.

Murder is blacking out when you’re nine years old and coming to to yourself two houses away on a neighbor’s swing set with crickets chirping in your ears and the crushing reality of never seeing your father again turning your brain into static.

Murder is asking your mother if she asked for the death penalty, and your mother telling you, in a pleading voice, that she didn’t because he was mentally ill and it didn’t feel right. Murder is feeling angry afterwards because you feel like something was taken away from you, and something should be exchanged for that. Because that’s how fairness works, right? If you steal candy from the store, you have to give up your allowance for the next five months.

Murder is realizing you’re an atheist at fourteen and driving past the cemetery where your father’s remains are interred, and having the gut-punching, soul-suffocating realization of what never ever ever actually means. Murder is building an internal cosmology where forever means my atoms and yours, creating new life in perpetuity as the comfort you drag out of the west’s cold, uncaring atheism that never found its own poetry.

Murder is your first two years in college, when you discover social justice and realize the world is bigger than your own life experiences, and that violence at the bottom is a reactionary symptom against violence at the top. Murder is understanding the fact that the man who killed your father was himself a victim of a racist, ableist, capitalist society with a morally bankrupt healthcare system, and that every single one of those things is in and of itself is more hateful than the act of your father bleeding out in the parking lot, in the ambulance, on the operating table.

Murder is your mother confessing to you in college that your father was physically abusive of her and that she had threatened him, only weeks before he was killed, that she would leave and take her daughters with her if he didn’t change. Murder is knowing that your father ran after an armed robber because he was raised by a Sicilian father in a household overflowing with toxic masculinity, and what killed your father wasn’t a man with a gun: what killed your father was the patriarchy whispering in his ear, This theft emasculates you.

Murder is looking your own mother in the eye and telling her that one day you want to visit the man who killed your father and open your heart to him, because all you can think is, He didn’t plan this. He can’t have wanted this. What must it feel like to kill someone without intending to and then have to live with that for the rest of your life with no one to help you? Murder is the sound of betrayal in your mother’s voice when she responds, disbelieving.

Murder is spending years wanting to at least write to him, and then forgetting, and then going back, because you are a fluid, impermanent, imperfect person with your own flaws and failures and mental issues that hold you back from being the paragon you want to be. Murder is throwing yourself into the left and embracing prison abolition so hard it hurts, because you know that if the state can lock up someone who doesn’t “matter,” the state can lock up anyone.

Murder is throwing away or selling every childhood thing you ever possessed because you are not by nature a sentimental person, but never giving up that doll you were gifted, the doll you coveted and wanted more than anything else, three weeks before your father was shot and killed. You have no pictures, no mementos, no nothing, but she sits at the top of your bookshelf to this day, a weighty child goddess, the symbol of your torn and labyrinthine childhood.

Murder is having to see a bunch of petty-ass people using actual trauma that real life people have experienced and continue to experience to directly and repeatedly harass your friends online (and yourself, indirectly, by tagging their hateful shit) because you and your friends like a fictional fucking character who, by nature of being fictional, did not actually murder any real existing people.

Murder is building your entire identity around how you sympathize, deeply, with the person who killed your own father, because that takes hard work and deep empathy and the ability to see past a lot of bullshit just to get to that point, and having some fuck-ass anons act like none of that matters because there is (apparently, I must assume) some omnipotent god of justice saying “Fuck you and everything you’ve been through” that apparently only these bullies can hear.

Murder is seeing fandom moralizers talk about murder like they understand it. Like they’ve read this, plus the last ten-plus paragraphs, and decided they know best anyway because mommy and daddy always told them Criminals Are Bad and walked wide-eyed and innocent into a social network overrun with TERFs, exclusionists, and a rotten segment of the political left that acts like some extras straight out of The Crucible.

I have never once been triggered by anything relating to my father’s murder. I cried at the Resurrection Stone scene in The Deathly Hallows, I cried when I completed when I completed the DA2 DLC Legacy after the end of act 2. When I see a parent die, I have an emotional reaction, because it’s familiar.

But the Akechi antis who all say “but he killed people!”, The Akechi antis who say “murder is still murder”?

The murder of my father is still murder. The man who killed him, his murderer, is still regardless a human being, the man who killed him deserves sympathy and compassion and understanding and respect and, above all, a chance.

I am a living example of what’s left behind when someone is murdered. You can walk into the mausoleum where my father is interred, face his headstone, and let the earth open up beneath you and drop you into hell.

So most sincerely, from someone who lost their father to gun violence, to armed robbery, to murder: Stop fucking using our lived experiences as your justification to harass and bully people online for committing the Grave Moral Sin of just liking a video game character.

Between the fact that the American government is keeping real people in concentration camps and a bunch of strangers on the internet liking a twiggy teenage anime boy who used a fantasy world to kill people who don’t exist, which one is actually important to deserve your moral outrage?

You’ll die eventually; fascism won’t kill itself.

#persona #persona 5 #p5 #goro akechi #if you tell me you're sorry for my loss i'll literally hunt you down and eat you #this one goes out to the goroboys #pour one out kids #real tired of having a bunch of dungeon dwellers insinuate that i #a person who has experienced firsthand the trauma of losing a loved one to murder #am apparently delusional for liking a character who murdered people #you people probably all think tony stark is the best avenger #you probably watched the game of thrones finale and thought dany going mad queen was good writing #you probably think ''split'' is a good horror movie #you probably thought lala land should have won the oscar #you probably like ed sheeran #this is rebloggable fyi

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alarriefantasy · 5 years

Note

Hey there! Do you have any punk au recs? Can be either or both boys! I know you have a bad boy Harry rec but I’m hoping for a little Louis mixed in too! Thank you so much 💕

Here you go, darling!!! :) Hope this is enough, but let me know if you want more! :)

Punk H/L Fic Rec

Punk Harry

oops, i like you by say_thanks

Words: 5k

He thrives in the attention, at the knowledge he makes these boys with their tattooed dicks and pierced whatevers, so hot and bothered. These boys with their confident smirks and broad shoulders and hands, touching Louis wherever they can. Louis reduces them all to a wet, moaning, mess, every time.

Usually he doesn’t see those guys again. It’s not generally part of the plan.

But then Harry tightens his grip on the back of Louis’ neck and Louis ducks his head to taste the sweat beading under Harry’s chin, kissing the ink curling up Harry’s neck, then kissing his way down to get his mouth on the god forsaken nipple piercings. He listens to the way Harry breathes his name, and for the first time silently asks, Can I keep him?

Clusters of Stars by Hazzalovescarrots

Words: 5k

Louis doesn’t have the best history with guys. When Harry shows up, totally different and covered in tattoos, things change. Liam and Zayn don’t really approve but it’s none of their business ey?

leave this house and i’ll burn it down along with myself by orphan_account

Words: 6k

“So I’m simply your guest, am I?” Louis asks, before leaning up and kissing Harry.

“Nope. You’re not,” Harry mumbles into his mouth, and he tries to ignore how Louis’ body arches against his, “you’re not even my living partner. You’re the princess I captured and now I’m going to keep you here, in the forest, all for myself.”

Purr Like a Cat by floatingsalad (orphan_account)

Words: 6k

harry wears eyeliner and listens to loud music and lives in a constant mess and sprays his hair with fifty cans of hairspray every morning when zayn interrupts his perfect sleep. this changes when the innocent cat-boy named louis enters into his life, flipping everything upside down.

It’s In The Love. by SS98

Words: 19k

AU in which Harry is sorta punk and never stops staring at Louis.

These Constant Stars by stylinsoncity

Words: 31k

Louis’ career has nowhere to go but up. He’s living at the height of New York City on the precipice of an epic promotion. Life is good and only getting better. And then one day, things turn disastrous.

Can I Make It Any More Obvious? by slashter

Words: 35k

[AU where Louis does ballet and Harry is the epitome of everything Louis’ friends want him to stay away from]

Beauty Behind The Madness. by ZiamsLarry

Words: 59k

Harry doesn’t meet the worlds perspective of looks, causing him to be judged every time he leaves his house. He never lets it get to him, because he knows that when he gets home at the end of the day he has the most beautiful little girl waiting for him.

So with just her and the lovely old lady down the hall who babysits her, Harry thinks his life is good enough for him.

Of course it all changes when the appartment across from him gets new attendants.

A Place To Call Home by Snowy38

Words: 90k

Louis rides a BMX and works in a diner all the hours god sends to keep his little brother Alex with him. Since their parents died, Louis has become mother and father to his sibling but he’s missing out on love.

Harry is a motorcycle gang member with a mysterious past but his vulnerability soon becomes evident as the two men’s worlds collide.

Louis becomes embroiled in a more-dangerous way of living but he helps Harry finds what he’s been missing all along- a place to call home.

Baby Heaven’s in your Eyes by theboyfriendstagram

Words: 120k

Or a sixth form!AU where Harry is the fucked up bad boy with too many problems, Louis is the perfect rich boy with too much money and their schools are right across from each other. They meet at a party and that’s the last (and maybe the only) thing they need.

Punk Louis

Sun-kissed Hurricane, Perfect Storm by iwillpaintasongforlou

Words: 7k

Harry is the quiet kid in the back of his statistics class who writes a lot and dreams about Louis’ cheekbones . Louis needs a statistics tutor ASAP before he flunks and the quiet kid in the back of the class seems like a good choice. Harry wants to help Louis however he can and Louis wants to see how much he can make Harry blush.

Forget Your Ex by PwoperNinjaElf

Words: 9k

When Harry’s boyfriend of two years leaves him for someone else, it’s fair to say he’s rather a bit upset, but his friends have a solution for him. Nick and Niall are hosting a start of term house party at their flat, having invited everyone they know from uni. Who knows, with a bit of luck Harry can find a rebound shag and finally forget his ex…

but he cant be what you need (if he’s eighteen) by lingerielarries

Words: 10k

the one where harry is sick of getting bullied and casts louis as the hot punk boyfriend to scare them away. louis needs harry to return the favor.

Opposites Attract by louisgrindsonharry

Words: 11k

Or, the AU where Harry’s an innocent little preppy kid and Louis has lots of tattoos and piercings and Harry wants wants to know why he cant’ stop thinking about the boy who walked him home.

In All Its Imperfections by BriaMaria

Words: 15k

From: Louis TomlinsonTo: Undisclosed Recipients

Hello!

I’ve asked the front desk and you lovely folks are the ones who are on the same level as me in the car park. I found a to-do list today that looked somewhat important because it has lines of poetry scribbled at the bottom that seemed like they might be for a card project. The stationary has a moose in a canoe at the top of it (and he is quite adorable). Let me know if it’s yours!

Cheers!

“Oh. My. Fucking. God,” Harry whispered, his eyes darting over the sentences again willing them not to make sense. They did, they did make sense. “Oh. My. Bloody. Fucking. God.”

The next thing he knew he was on the floor, staring at the ceiling, with a very concerned Liam hovering over his head.

“What happened, mate?” Liam asked.

Harry just pointed to his computer.

Liam bent over Harry’s desk to read the email. “What? This isn’t bad. Is that your to-do list? Did you finally come up with the inside text for those cards?”

“Leeyum" he groaned. “It’s what’s on the list.”

“Oh,” Liam paused for a beat. “Is it dirty stuff?”

Harry nodded.

There was more silence. And then, “Dirty stuff with Louis?”

You’re So Square (Baby I Don’t Care) by mmaree

Words: 15k

Or a summer camp au where Louis tries to sort out whether he wants to murder or snog his perky co-counsellor.

Can We Talk for a Moment? by lululawrence

Words: 15k

Or the one where Harry is a shy, nerdy alpha, Louis is a loud omega punk, and there’s more to both of them than their reputations.

Saturday Detention by FallingLikeThis

Words: 15k

Five boys with nothing in common end up together in Saturday detention. Maybe if they can get past their first impressions, they’ll realize they’re not as different as they thought.

Or The Breakfast Club Au that was dying to be written.

the love is ours to make (so we should make it) by lingerielarries

Words: 19k

the one where louis takes some time off from life to return home, only to be met with a strange boy in pink and a flowercrown as the nanny of his siblings.

The Moments When My Good Times Start to Fade by paintsplatteredteardrops

Words: 23k

Where Harry is a flower child who works in a bakery and Louis is a guitarist who has no idea what it is he wants.

In Dreams by dolce_piccante

Words: 23k

AU. When Harry moves to a new city, his new flat come with a number of sweet, anonymous gifts and surprises that brighten his days. Could it be a friendly ghost? Another friendly presence in his new building is his tattooed neighbor, Louis, who seems determined to put a smile back on his face.

i’d burn this city down to show you the light by you_explode

Words: 23k

Harry’s a sheltered rich kid and Louis’s a punk with a heart of gold. They meet when Louis breaks into Harry’s house, Harry obtains an instant and all-encompassing crush, and they spend the summer falling into a whirlwind romance.

Life Saver by objectlesson

Words: 30k

Louis is a sweetheart punk with a theater background and a heart of gold, Harry is an inexperienced nerd who plays by the rules. Classmates, lab partners, and eventually friends, what happens when Louis knows he’s in love, but doesn’t know how tell Harry?

Open Up Your Broken Heart (and Keep on Wanting) by alistoney

Words: 49k

Louis works in a tattoo shop and rides a motorcycle

Harry wears flowers in his hair and does yoga in the morning

Somehow they fit

if my heart was a compass, you’d be north by cheekiestcheeky, heartsoftlouis

Words: 55k

Or the one where punk Louis likes to think he’s not clumsy, but he suspects he’ll have to accept it when he falls face first into a relationship with a head full of curls and his tiny human.

Give Me Truths by iwillpaintasongforlou

Words: 110k

Or, the one in which Louis falls in love with a fragile boy and tells him every beautiful truth in the world, as long as it makes him happy.

Lights Will Guide You Home by Cafelesbian

Words: 137k

Louis Tomlinson is his school’s resident bad boy and easily the most liked person there. He’s loud and confident and popular. He spends most of his time abusing his parent’s money or partying or playing football. He also spends a good deal of it obsessing over the quiet curly boy in his English class, but no one really needs to know that.

Harry Styles is more or less invisible at the same school (unless he’s being harassed). He’s shy and painfully insecure and quiet. He spends most of his time crying on his bedroom floor with a razor pressed against his skin or trying (and failing) to think of reasons to stay alive.

So, of course, it’s inevitable that they fall for each other.

#ask

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pigeontheoneandonly · 5 years

Text

Serendipity

I saw a reply to a post over @ao3commentoftheday suggesting it’s impossible to write a slow burn in less than 10k words. My dumbass brain took this as “challenge accepted”. Who knows if I hit the mark, but I’m pretty happy with the result! This baby clocks in at 2487 words. Tucked under a read more, because that’s still a lot for tumblr.

Fandom: Dragon Age

When we met, I couldn’t see any part of you beneath the mud you’d earned trying to kill me. I don’t know why I took you with us, except that you were an elf without anywhere to go, and in Ferelden an elf with no home was good as dead, and we just don’t do that to each other. Naturally none of the shems understood. I bound up your wounds alone, thinking it would’ve been easier if you’d just fucking died.

The first prick of sympathy came when we arrived at the Dalish camp. You called me my dear warden, mocking the double-meaning of my title and your technical captivity. You flirted shamelessly with me the whole way, undeterred by my gender or my cold silence, and put me in a bad mood because I couldn’t tell if it was genuine interest, or something you felt you had to do, offer yourself to me, to stay in my good graces. With a man for sale it could go either way. But I saw how your ears went red and your tongue fell silent, when our wilder cousins sniggered at your tattoos, your so-called “city vallaslin”. It’s horrible to be an in-between, unwanted alike by the society that spawned you and the one you live with, to be lumped in with those who keep you in squalor and kill you at will. Watching their whispers subdue you angered me more than all the flirting put together. And fuck, wasn’t that annoying.

I bought you a pair of gloves. I don’t know why. They didn’t deserve my money, you didn’t deserve my kindness, but you looked at their tooled leather like you were reading a secret map, and I had to know what you saw written there. You didn’t say thank you. But you told me your mother was Dalish. I told you mine had died. I told you how she died, even though that’s a thing I don’t tell anyone, because my mouth moved before my mind could scream stop.

You made a joke. I shoved you hard into the underbrush and stalked away before I killed you. We never talked about it again.

In fact, we barely spoke at all, the whole long, rainy road to Orzammar. We didn’t speak through the political battle, we didn’t speak cooped up for days in a king’s mansion, and we didn’t speak as the heavy stone gates of the deep roads clanged shut behind us.

I had been a Warden for all of eight weeks. Alistair warned me that Wardens Joined in a Blight always were more sensitive, and all my newfound awareness remained raw as a fresh-hewn board. In the deep, I could hear them everywhere. Feel them, crawling through my skin like worms; smell them in the still and sour air. I could fucking taste them when we stopped to rest and I had no distraction.

The dwarves told me this was where Wardens went to die. I hugged my knees in the weak torchlight of our camp, feeling myself lost in the dark with them pressing in all around me, until they tore me apart, and for the first time, I hoped the Blight would kill me. Sleep was a fantasy. It showed, more and more, the deeper we went.

I didn’t notice the first time you offered to carry my knapsack, so tired I gave it over without question, numb to anything but the need to keep walking. The occasional darkspawn nest was a respite. Better to fight them than sense them waiting, a constant pressure of millions of eyes on the back of my neck.

I didn’t notice when you started staying up with me. I figured you weren’t tired, either. I still wasn’t speaking. But you rambled, about your childhood, about your exploits with the Crows, reciting snippets of awful Antivan poetry and singing bawdy songs you couldn’t quite remember. But it came as a shock when I woke up, the first I’d slept since we entered the roads, curled up against the cave wall, beside you. You smiled, still awake. Wished me good morning.

We fucked for the first time the first night we camped above ground again, drunk on dwarven ale and being out of that thrice-damned hole, that endless crushing darkness. In the morning we agreed it didn’t mean anything. Just the mindless choice of two bodies almost sick with relief.

You flirted less, after that. I talked more. I told you about coming up to the sealed gates of the Denerim alienage, hearing the word purge from the indifferent shem guard, and how I still didn’t know if my father or Shianni or any one of these people who’d been my entire world were alive. The ridiculous story I made up for those two kids, because elves survive on hope. My absolute disaster of a wedding, doomed long before the kidnapping; I was all my father had left, and the truth, that my inclinations were not reproductively compatible, would have crushed him. That if I closed my eyes, I could still feel a ghost of euphoria remembering my sword plunging into Vaughan’s gut, that I was only sorry I only got to do it once.

I don’t know why you listened. Put together, the whole thing rang absurd, not very sane and certainly not much like a Warden.

I do know that when the sloth demon snared us in nightmares, and I saw you stretched on that rack, my vision went red. When I came back to myself, your brother Crows were in pieces and you were gone. A little of whatever-the-fuck that was lingered when we woke; I took two running steps toward you, so damn happy to see you without joints popped and bruised. You stumbled one step back, on instinct, a portrait of humiliation. I faltered and the moment died.

You moved back to your own tent. We’d taken to sleeping side-by-side. The nights grew colder as the season waned, and the Blight spread, and the presence of another body in the night was an affordable comfort. I stared at the large space you left behind, startled to miss you this much.

Things stayed like that as we marched back to Denerim for the Landsmeet. Cordial, but distant. Hurt without reason and annoyed over it, to the point that Leliana warned me that compelling a Landsmeet as an elf would be hard enough without a pissy attitude. Maybe that was why it was so easy for Anora to betray us, because irritation makes me impatient and rude. But you snuck and charmed your way through the most heavily fortified prison in Ferelden to get us out— to get me out. And somehow I was still annoyed.

I said you must be really hard up for protection. You crowded me into the wall. For a wild moment I thought you’d shank me, and then for an even more terrifying one, that you’d kiss me. Instead, you told me to consider your blood debt paid, and shoved off down the street. Angry as I’d ever seen you.

And what was worse, you stayed angry, and I stayed on edge, and maybe that’s how we got jumped by a dozen Crows in a dead-end alley, one of your bad decisions come home to roost in earnest. Their leader offered to wipe your slate, to take you back to Antiva, make up a story and let you go home. Not like an order, but like a friend, offering you a way out.

You looked at me. Months on the road, and I couldn’t read your face. And what I remember isn’t thinking I was about to die, but that I was about to lose you to this smug shem jackass, of all people.

Then you said no. And the shit hit the wall.

We lived, somehow. Your old friend went down last, and hard, your Crow-hilted dagger quivering between his ribs as his heart pumped itself out. You fell down beside him. Uninjured beyond a few nasty scratches, curled into a ball on the cobbles like you were dying, too.

I asked something that amounted to what the fuck. And it all came pouring out. You grew up together, you and him and some girl named Rinna, a little family inside the unending terror of Crow education. If you couldn’t love the Crows, you could love them, and for a time the comfortable rewards of your harsh training were made sweeter by their sharing. Until Rinna betrayed you to a mark.

He killed her while you watched, you told me, your head in my lap. While she begged your help, you taunted her. She died with her love for you on her lips. You both went forward with the job, a loose end to clean up, and discovered there proof of Rinna’s honesty, her fidelity. You killed her together and now you’d killed him, too.

The silence stretched as the torrent of words finally stopped. Feeling your face damp on my leg. There was nothing to say, but that silence was a wounding kind, so I told you the stupid story about the bluebird in the vhenadahl. Recited rhymes we used to sing as kids, playing hopscotch and tag in the dirt. On and on, until the sun slipped below the buildings, and you were able to sit up, and we left.

It never came up between us again. In fact, very little had changed. A mild thaw in an undercurrent neither of us wanted to address. It seemed impossible we’d be able to swim it; diving in could only lead to drowning.

Returning to the alienage put it out of my mind. My family spared by the purge, but still not safe. Murder and disease and hints of darker things make good distractions. When we discovered elves were disappearing, you volunteered to scout, as you had so many times before. I thought nothing of it. Until I was sitting up alone at my childhood dinner table, more than a day past when you should have returned, too paralyzed to do more than stare at the door and plead with the Maker or the gods or whoever might be listening for you to walk through it.

Sometime after midnight, you finally did. You caught sight of me, and tendered a look of exasperation. My dear warden, you said again, chiding this time, and before you could continue I flung my arms around your neck, too tight for you to get anything else out. And we stood still there, like that, because if I let go I’d slap you. I hated you. You were the most important person in my world, and if you died it would change me, and I hated you for it.

We went into that warehouse together, and pulled people— my people— out of cages together. We read the manifest of those already sold away. You put your arms around me, when I stepped into an alley after it was done and screamed and screamed and screamed into my own hands, because even if we somehow got justice this time, there was no undoing it, and no way to stop it happening again. Because this was the Black City we all had to live in. You told me then that you’d been sold, too, into a different fate but one ugly in its own way. And my hand slipped into yours where it wrapped around my chest, just for a moment, until someone called us back to the mess we’d made.

You watched as I took the bastard Loghain’s head, and if it didn’t feel like justice for my kin, it did feel good. You stood beside me as I promised a collection of the most powerful people in Ferelden, shems all, that I could save their country, and hours later, when I was sick back at the manor where we stayed.

You weren’t there when Riordan told me I was going to die. It’s hard to remember now how out-of-our-minds, slap-happy with relief Alistair and I were when he showed up, fucking finally a senior warden who knew what he was doing. That went up like a matchstick when he explained a grey warden giving their life to contain the archdemon was the only way to end the Blight. He said some other things after that, but I didn’t hear them over the sound of one solitary thought: I cannot put Zev through that again. I can’t, I can’t, I can’t…

And you weren’t there when Morrigan caught me as I shambled from that room, weak with shock and grief. You weren’t there when she told me there was a way out. You weren’t there to see my revulsion— not at what she suggested, but at myself, because I knew my answer immediately. I could not do that to you, not even with the entire world in the balance. That whatever the consequences, whatever pain this brought on me or on the child to come, if it spared you another heartbreak, the price felt fair.

I stumbled to your room no more than half-dressed. You smelled the sex on me immediately. Your face twisting with hurt and rage, until I fell down at your feet, my head on your knees, and told you everything. What waited for us in the heart of the Blight. The blood magic Morrigan wrought. That I’d done it for you, that I begged your forgiveness, that if you left now I’d never be the same and please, please, Maker, please stay.

Your hand lifted my chin. Your expression like I’d never seen before, tender and fond and something else. Something electric. Your voice a whisper. “My dear warden…”

“I love you,” I said. It was what I’d been trying to say through all the incoherent babble. Maybe for a lot longer than just this night.

You bent and kissed me. And in the softness of your mouth, every worry and doubt melted away.

We’d seen each other many times before. But you never trailed your thumb slowly across my every scar, from the faded wounds of Ostagar to the scrape from just this morning. I never traced over the swirls of your tattoos with my tongue. We never drifted back to each other every other moment for a lingering wet kiss, never burrowed a face into a neck or tangled our legs or clung so close together that we seemed more one person than two. It never felt right, not like this.

And as I looked into your face in the dying firelight, brushing my fingers over your cheek, I thought about you covered in mud and pain and waiting to die. Maybe the world didn’t care about us, but in its making, if there was just enough serendipity to let me find you, maybe that was all the care I needed.

#dragon age #dao #zevran arainai #m!tabris #zevran x tabris #slow burn speed run #alt title: dao in 3k words or less #i think i was possessed when i wrote this #not mass effect #enemies to lovers

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sunnyie-eve · 5 years

Text

Somebody To Love (Part 12- An Epic Poem)

(Ben!RogerTaylor)

Word count: 1,566

Warnings: None

—————————————————

"You're what?" I finally manage to spit out. "I'm in love with you, Alice Grace White." He takes my hand and I was just a blinking statue. "Let me just say what I have to say. Alice, I have always actually had a crush on you once I actually started to get to know you. I didn't care what you looked like. I like what was on the inside of you. I was and still am jealous of how close you are with Deaky and Brian. I think being here has made me realize that I need to tell you how I feel before it's too late. Our conversation up on the hill about how we will both find our person soon... I want you to be that person." He looks me in the eye and I don't say anything but grab his face to kiss him.

"I hope that answers about how I feel about you." I smile and he kisses me back. "Rog, can we keep us a secret? Just till we actually know this will work out? We saw how my last one went with Brian." I bit my lip hoping not to upset him. "Of course, I'll do anything you want. I'll take this slow like a real relationship and not jump into things." He kisses me again and I push him away. "Okay, so like you interrupted my nap so leave." I get back underneath the covers and he does the same. "I'm tired too after all that singing." He cuddles me and we fall asleep.

Finally once the album was finished we headed back home, and I was thankful to sleep in my bed for one night. Roger was on his way to pick me up since we had to meet with Ray so he could here it. "It's open!" I yell as there was a specific knock at the door. "Well don't you look beautiful." Roger says gives me quick a kiss as I grabbed my bag. "Don't you look handsome." I kiss him back making sure to grab my keys as we head out. "Are you nervous?" I ask getting in the passenger seat. "I don't quite know. I mean, he didn't like the idea of it in the first place." Roger looks over at me as he drives. "Well he's stupid because it's a perfect album." I smile at him and he holds my hand.

When we park outside of EMI me and Roger give each other a quick kiss before meeting the other at the door. "Darling, you look beautiful." Fred kisses my cheeks. "Thank you, Freddie." I smile as we stand there for a few minutes. "Why did you give Alice a ride? She has her own car." Brian asks Roger who is caught off guard. "I'm low on gas so I called him." I answer for him since he was frozen. Once we head inside to the lift we walk into Ray's office, I sit at one end of the sofa followed by Roger, Deaky, and Brian standing behind us. Paul sits on the arm of the sofa and I move closer to Roger's side. "Yeah, get away from him." Roger whispers in my ear putting his arm on the back of the sofa behind me. Fred plays Ray Bohemian Rhapsody and once it ends I smile at Roger.

"Well... I'm not entirely sure... that's the album you promised us." Ray let's out a sigh. "No, it's better than the album we promised you. It's better than anyone's ever promised you, darling. It's a bloody masterpiece." Fred says walking in front of Ray's desk. "It is a good album, Ray." John says. "We prefer masterpiece." Roger turns his head to look at him. "It's expensive and as form... Bohemian..." Ray starts and I decide to help him. "Rhapsody." He looks at me, "Rhapsody. What even is that?" He asks and Fred answers him, "An epic poem."

"It goes on forever. Six bloody minutes." Ray says pointing at the sheet. "I pity your wife if you think six minutes is forever." Fred says and Paul sniggers while I giggle a little. "We're going to release it as our single." Fred said making Ray chuckle. "Not possible anything over three minutes and the radio stations won't program it, period. And what I'm earth is it about anyways? Scaramouche? Galileo? And all that Ismillah business! Ismillah?" Ray rants on while Fred looks out the window. "Bismillah." I correct him. "Oh aye. Bismillah. What's it about anyways? Bloody Bismillah?" Ray asks us. "True poetry is for the listener." I say and deep down I was wondering where I got all this courage to speak for the band.

"It ruins the mystery if everything's explained." Brian says and they still go on. "We need the radio. Format is three minutes, I have to agree with Ray." John tells the band. "I actually think the single's Love Of My Life." He adds, "No." Brian says. "How about John's song, You're My Best Friend? You know? Ooh you make me live... Catchy, stronger." He suggests. "What about I'm In Love With My Car?" Ray suggests and we just are wowed. "Are you joking?" I say while Deaky moves his head and Brian says Jesus. Roger looks at all over us then Fred kicks the table.

After a few minutes of arguing about how Bohemian Rhapsody will never be played, Miami gets Ray to shut it for a few seconds. "We're going with You're My Best Friend." Ray says final. "You will forever be known as the man who lost Queen." Freddie says and we all get up following him out the door and Roger takes my hand into his. "Fuck him, Fred. He doesn't know how much he just fucked up." I say was we get into the lift. "You're right and thank you darling... For speaking up for the band in there." He pats the top of my head before we head out.

"Oh I have an idea! Here Fred, throw it." I bend down picking up a brick handing it to him. "Darling, I love you." He takes it from me and throws it there the window. "You can take that out of our royalties! Twat!" Fred tells at him. "Wanker!" Ray yells back. "You can shove your gold disks! You made a mistake Foster!" Brian says as we walk off and I grab Roger's hand again. "That actually was a brilliant idea, Alice." Roger let's go of my hand to wrap his arm around my shoulder. "It was, I say we go out to eat?" Brian suggests to us all. "Sounds nice, I'm quit hungry." Deaky turns around smiling at us. "The usual place?" Roger ask as we make it to his car. "See you darlings there." Fred says getting in his car driving off.

Me and Roger get in the car and put on the radio. "I can't believe how Ray actually suggested your song. Not trying to be rude, but that's definitely not a song you and jam out to in your car." I laugh turning to look at him. "I swear you guys are never going to let that go." He glares at me making me lean in to kiss him. "Oh lighten up, babe. It's not as bad as I thought it was going to be." I smile at him and he kisses me quickly. "Thank you."

"I have a question, Alice. You and Roger seem a lot closer now. You actually hold his hand now, sit next to him, and well let him near you." Brian laughs as we were eating. "Yeah, I felt bad for him since I don't give him the same attention I give you and Deaky. Plus sharing a small bed with him back at the farm made us a little more closer. Roger here isn't as bad as I thought he was." I smile at Roger and he smiles back while the others nodded their heads. "That's good, we won't hear him whine about anymore." Freddie's says making Roger glare at him.

As we were waiting for Deaky and Fred to finish eating, I felt Roger grab my hand underneath the table. I let go of his hand and excuse myself to go look at the cakes they had. "Oh, I'll look with you." Roger jumps us and follows me inside from where we were sitting. "Follow me." Roger whispers in my ear and leads me to the big restroom. "What are you doing?" I asks as he locks the door. "I just fell the need to kiss you and I can't do it in front of the band." He smiles down at me and I wrap my arms around his neck. "We can’t be gone too long." I kiss him between each word. "I know." He pushes me against the wall making the kiss a bit rougher.

"Roger, can't you wait till we either go to my place or yours?" I ask as he kisses my jaw and neck. "You're right, then we can cuddle and watch a movie." He kiss my lips before opening the door and we go back to the table. "Nothing catch you eyes?" Deaky asks as we took our seat. "Nope, and this one was too picky to get one." I pat Roger's back as he takes a dink of his tea.

#ben!roger taylor #gwilym lee #joe mazzello #rami malek #queen #roger taylor #brain may #john deacon #freddie mercury #borhap boys #bohemian rapsody cast #bohemian rapsody movie #bohrhap #bohemian rhapsody

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