#just found this in my history and was laughing a lil too hard at the memory aaa

[foreverxdaydreaming]

fellow veteran tumblrians spotted out in the wild, what a day to be alive

[shaanks]

Hii! How are you? I wanted to ask if you could share some of your personal headcanons about shanks, i love that man soo much and i feel that i found my people on your blog

Awwww man hello!!! M8 first and foremost thank you so much for this message, this is gonna sustain me for literally ever probably. I love Shanks so dearly too, he's so easy to adore it's crazy ; u ; I'm so honored that you feel like you've found community here I'm just rambling about him and reblogging people that do words better than I do ; uuuuu ;

Here are some thoughts!!! They're not in any like particular order, just me tryin to retrieve something actually coherent out of the centrifuge I have him in in my mind lmfaoooo. I'm gonna put it under a readmore after the second one bc it got a lil long.

I think this one is pretty popular but it's also really important to me, but I do think that man is the sweetest, sappiest loverboy to ever be. He's so affectionate and indulgent and if he's in love with you, he's all-in 1000000% in love with you, really revels in everything you are separately and everything you've made together.

I think he's really, REALLY good at things. Cards, guitar before he lost his arm, honestly I think he is gifted and burdened with being able to pick up and become proficient with anything he takes any great interest in. That's fun for him to a degree, and would have made childhood REALLY fun, but he's sort of learned that it's hard to have fun with people and enjoy card games and whatnot if he wins every time and dominates the board. So he kicks his feet back and cheats casually and poorly at cards and plays slight of hand tricks and acts like a dork because he WANTS to have fun with his crew and his friends and the people he cares for. He's come to value losing for a joke and a laugh over winning just for the sake of it.

I think he pays a lot more attention to things than he gets credit for, and is a lot more emotionally aware and intelligent than he gives the impression of being. Part of how Shanks operates is in this kind of carefree ambient role, even in situations he feels a great deal of investment in. He'll stand back, and act silly, and play a little scatterbrained and flighty because it's a lot safer for everyone if that's how he acts. Plus, I think he's had to spend so much time sublimating his own personal wants and needs that he sort of lets situations dictate how much of his real feelings and vulnerabilities get involved. There's just too much at stake to act without careful consideration and responsibility, at least that's how he seems to me.

I think he's pretty decently well-read, though I think this one's pretty against the grain for popular fanon with him lmfao. He's a Yonko, and he's chosen the like kingmaker/steward/diplomat route as such. He has to travel around, he diffuses situations, he has to be able to communicate with people and understand the situations he's walking into, so like. I do think he has some understanding of philosophy and history (given his travels with Roger probably to a degree that'd likely be forbidden if it was well-known about), I think he knows several languages, I think he's able to keep conversation and find common ground through things like music and literature and things like that.

Steering back into less like somber-serious waters I also think he's soooooooooooooooooooo clingy (affectionate). Definitely with his significant other but platonically too, I think he drapes his lanky body all over people and rolls around and lays in laps and wants scritches, he's very affectionate and he loves affection in return!!!

Okay I'm gonna stop here for now, I could ramble about that man for literally ever. I have no idea if this is what you were asking for but if not, lemme know and I can answer from a different direction!!

[fandomhype]

Plagiarism Somerton

I obviously didn't watch the new James Somerton apology video ON his channel because I did not want to give that man the views and you shouldn't either! It has been re-uploaded and summarised elsewhere so that he doesn't benefit if anyone wants to see it.

The original hbomberguy video was wild to me because of all the stealing, I found it highly entertaining, loved all the Memes and it honestly did my imposter syndrome wonders! but then I watched the Todd in the shadows video and it really upset me.

He didn't just steal from other LGBT creators he lied to his mostly young LGBT audiance who were looking to an elder gay for guidance and to learn about their history.

Todd's video starts with a clip of James lies being spread by another person on a podcast, there's clips of people discussing his made up gay nazi fanfic he has presented as hard facts. He actively harmed his own community for cash! There are young gay men bringing that subject up in conversation being laughed at for falling for it and that leaves a really bad taste in my mouth.

Now I'm not a part of that community but a lot of people I love are so that angered me a lot.

...and then he comes back with another apology video, conveniently within the three months he would have had to post something on his channel to retain his monetisation status weirdly?! In which he blames both a head injury and his ADHD for his theft - at no point does he address the lying in either apology video or any of the apology posts he made that I could find.

I have combined ADHD, when I was first diagnosed the NHS referred to it as ADD with Hyperactivity element but everyone seems to have gone back to calling it ADHD and that is the term used most commonly online so that is what I refer to it is as.

I am medicated but there has been a world wide shortage of my medication and I was without it for some time over winter, which was HELL! I got nothing done.

I am in no way a big creator, Youtube for me is a fun wee hobby that will hopefully grow and allow me to collaborate with other people with similar interests but ADHD is for sure a large part of my journey as a creator.

I've published like 7 videos and currently have around 10 being worked on because, you know... ADHD! *siren noises*

I know that I am forgetful sometimes, just for the record I also had several head injuries and concussions as a child because Lil undiagnosed at the time me truly had no fear of climbing or other dangerous activities so I have my script (because free talking a subject with this brain would be nearly impossible) open in one google doc and my research open in another. It's not hard.

That's the way it was at school, college and Uni too. James claims he went to Uni to do business. Every university uses anti-plagerism software for essays and has done since like the mid 2000's? so he knows not to copy pasta. He's straight up lying there.

Another thing he's lying about is his ADHD making him forget he copied things. Now if you tell me a joke that I like it'll stick in my head and I will straight up tell it as my own later, I've been called out for this many times! But entire articles? whole sections of other peoples videos? (he also flipped a fan Vid he had ripped off of another YouTube to avoid detection and tried to pass it off as his own) No that's not something you can accidentally do even with a swiss cheese brain like mine.

Weirdly all the the paragraphs James claims he accidentally copied were also edited to remove aspects of the Trans, Bi and Ace experiences that James markedly does not believe exist. Strange considering he accidentally copied them and assumed they were his own words? Imagine going back through a paragraph you think you wrote yesterday in the edit the next day and finding swarths of things you don't agree with there?!

Why am I telling you all this? Well because I wanted to put my two cents in as a creator with this condition, partly because I felt it was somewhat of an attack on us!? He's put it out there that ADHD creators are liable to steal from others and that's not ok by me. Also I just really like the sound of my own typing!

TL;DR : James Sommerton is a suck ass liar and he doesn't get to use his disability as an excuse for what he did! and...

****** ADHD DOES NOT MAKE YOU STEAL SHIT!!! ******

Also watch Todd's Vid, everyone saw the Hbomberguy one but this one goes deeper:

[heyidkyay]

I guess I'll take this pain, instead of your name

Part Seven

A/n: Might've cried a lil writing this part:/ But I hope you enjoy it all the same x

Summary: In life, things changed. The boys you'd once grown up with were men now, and famous ones at that. The type that toured the world and had millions of adoring fans.

The five of you shared a shit ton of history. But you also shared a lot of mixed emotions for one of them in particular, a certain drummer.

Warnings: Talks of a struggling relationship with a parent, (doesn't go into detail but alludes slightly to other things, so take that as you will), and the mention of previous deaths of relatives (again, there's not much detail)

Masterlist

--

“Mum?” I croaked out.

…

The woman in which had birthed me and given me my name was stood in the very same cafe, ignorant to my presence. 

There was no denying it was her. Her hair was still the same shade it’d always been, only now it was cut into a sleek sort of bob that better suited her face. She was thinner now too, I supposed. Her figure only accentuated by the fitted silk shirt she had tucked into a pair of dark jeans.

I scanned over every detail she had to offer me, or rather the world, but came to an abrupt pause when I saw a sudden similarity between us. It was a simple one really, but I saw then it in the way she was laughing away heartily at whoever she was on the phone to, her smile so wide and unapologetic. It was very same smile I'd caught myself wearing in pictures with friends, or when I rewatched old videos of us at gigs.

The realisation made my stomach turn, as though everything inside of me was slowly being vacuumed up into the big black hole that had suddenly replaced it.

I was snapped back to reality rather quickly when George’s head whipped around to see what I was freaking out over. His wide eyes darting between both myself and the woman who was stood waiting in line for her order, his jaw dropped. He looked just as unsure on what to do here as I was.

Because, well, what were you supposed to do when the parent you hadn’t seen since leaving home was stood right in front of you? It was a headfuck, a complete and utter headfuck. That had me ripping at the very seams.

George must’ve seen it on my face too because he reached across the table then to take my trembling hand in his, forcing me to divert my attention. My eyes found his. 

“Birdie…”

His low whisper paired with that godforsaken nickname wasn’t even enough to distract me from the way I was beginning to spiral. Suddenly, I felt so out of it. As though I was floating out of my body, or on another plane all together. 

I took a deep breath then shook my head at him, hoping to somehow clear my mind. 

“I know, it’s fine- I’m fine. I’m okay. Really.” But I didn’t know who I was trying to reassure here, him or me. “She just, brings something out in me. I didn’t expect to see her here is all.”

“No shit,” George mumbled distractedly with another long glance over his right shoulder. When he looked back at me, he hunched further across the table to keep his voice low. "You gonna say something?"

I blinked, but the thing that shocked me wasn't his question, it was the real anger I saw then in his eyes. It wasn’t a typical emotion for George.

“Sorry.” I apologised for the interruption, then attempted to steer us back on track. This wasn’t about her. This was me trying to fix things with George. Us trying to salvage the friendship we’d had long before we’d ever messed things up between us by getting together. “Where were we again?”

“Don’t. Don’t do that. Not with me.” George interrupted, his grip on my hand tightening by a fraction. “You don’t have to pretend. I know what it was like. What you went through with her, how bad things got. I was there. You don’t have to build back up all those walls you tried so hard to knock down around me.”

I felt my eyelids fall shut when that familiar burning sensation begun to tingle the tip of my nose and started to sting just behind my eyes. My throat was slowly closing and the hairs that ran down my arms stood on end.

It was hard to hear, especially when I’d worked so hard to come to terms with the distance that our breakup had wedged between us. But ultimately, that was only because I knew he was right. He knew better than anyone what I’d gone through. Seen more than I’d care to admit I’d wanted him to.

“I just can’t do this. I-" I choked out, the tremble in my hands seemed to invade the rest of my body now. Everything appeared to be working against me.

George was still there though when I reopened my eyes, and I had a vague guess as to how red and watery they must’ve looked as I stared back at him hopelessly.

“Take a second, yeah?” He murmured to me, his thumb gently skimming over the back of the hand he still had yet to let go of. 

The action seemed to soften things somehow, gave me a feeling to ground myself to. I swallowed down the tension I'd felt balling in the back of my throat, letting it sit heavily now in my chest.

I couldn’t bring myself to look back at her though, at the hazy stranger I just about recognised.

Not yet.

“When was the last time you spoke to her?” George questioned me quietly and I couldn't silence the humourless chuckle I let go of, playing with the fraying tear in the booth’s tablecloth that someone must have caught their zip on. 

“Other than that birthday card? My nana’s funeral.”

George’s brow pinched further. “That was almost a year ago now though. I remember it. You two hardly said more than six words to one another.”

I shrugged, feeling small. “Well…”

With a sigh that was more of a scoff, George shook his head and worked his jaw. “Who’d you spend Christmas with then?”

I mustered up a sad smile. “Matty’s family took me in. With both my grandparents gone now, and well, us being…”

George dipped his chin curtly, eyes darting away for the briefest of seconds just as the vein in his neck ticked. I tried not to react to it.

“I didn’t have many people offering to put me up.” I told him honestly as I glanced towards the counter, shrugging a shoulder again. The rip in the tablecloth had grown now too.

“I-” George begun but faltered as he inhaled, sucking in far too sharply for it to go unnoticed. But then he shook his head as though irritated and his brown eyes found mine again shortly after. “Do you want to say something now? To her, I mean.”

I felt myself frown as I thought it over. Did I? It was a chance to face her again, to talk things over, maybe get some answers now that I was older and not so sheltered. But, then again…

My gaze flickered up to see her still stood there waiting. She was by the counter this time, leaning in and flashing a smile at the worker whilst she accepted the drink she’d ordered. I couldn’t tear my eyes away.

George seemed to have followed my line of sight too and he turned back towards me a bit too quickly to get my reply. “Well? This is your last chance.”

And I watched on as she called out her hasty thanks, still prattling away on the phone whilst she started to make her leave. The only thought that crossed my mind though was whether or not it was the same number I’d tried calling her on a few weeks prior. Or in the months before that. I opened my mouth to say something, but I just couldn’t do it. Unsure if I even wanted to.

She was gone then. A whirl of hair and sweet laughter as the wind swept her back up, closing the door firmly shut behind her.

It felt like a strange metaphor for my life.

I slumped.

The cafe seemed to grow nosier after that and I wondered when everything had started to dial back for me. George was still there though, studying me closely like he always used to do. Only, it was for an entirely different reason this time around.

“Maybe it’s for the best.” He said, looking at me almost like he could sense every thought I was thinking, every feeling I felt. I dropped my eyes so that I could paste on a semi-convincing smile.

“Yeah, maybe.”

“You can let it out, you know. If you need.” George mentioned, and he chewed on the edge of his bottom lip for a blink before shrugging lightly, on anyone else the gesture might’ve appeared abashed but whilst George was many things, he was far from that. Not with me at least. “Dunno. Just used to help.”

And it had. Whenever things would happen, when a memory would resurface, or I'd just be having one of those days… I’d close up and hide away from everything. It was only whenever George prompted it out of me, or decided to my mind off of things, did I see the bigger picture again.

In the time we’d been apart, those days had grown a little more frequent. Longer too. Because I hadn’t had that around to distance me from the thoughts. There was no light to keep the shadows at bay.

“I don’t know. It’s just weird, ain’t it?” I swallowed thickly and had to force my gaze outside, focusing on all the chips in the pavement and the birds that were now scouting around the decking. “Of all the people. All the places! And when I’m here with you too, trying to muddle through all our shit. Just feels like someone’s gone a dropped a massive bomb on my life.”

I waited a while for George to say something, to maybe pull his hand away or draw me in closer. But he just gave me that moment. And I didn’t know whether to be grateful or not for it, especially when it only seemed to spur me on.

“She was supposed to be all these things. A role model. Someone I could turn to. Look up to. A person I could always count on to be on my side. But she was barely ever there. Not when it counted.”

I could feel every hurt I'd ever felt in the breath I took then.

“She was meant to protect me. Keep me safe. But after dad- she just let anyone walk in and out of our lives. She was just a doorstop to them, a warm bed, and I had to face the brunt of it all. The leers and the looks.”

I scoffed, blinking away all the emotions of that sad little girl.

“You’d have thought that after his death, she’d might've wanted to keep me close. Make sure nothing bad happened to me too. But she just shut me out. Sent me away- to my nana’s, and my aunt’s.” 

My next whisper was sharp and it stung, it tainted the air around me. 

“She couldn’t even bare to look at me, G.”

George was there. Sliding into the booth beside me. He wrapped an arm around my waist and shielded me in his side, blocking anyone else who might have looked over then from watching me fall apart. I focused on my breathing, in and out. Out then in. The fog seemed to lift slightly as I continued, and George must’ve sensed it because he let up a little.

“Sorry," I sniffed, "If I’d've known that today would end up like this I would’ve spared you the lost time.” I made a chuckling sound that was mostly belittling and rolled my eyes at myself.

“Oi, don’t say that. She’s the one who fucked up. She’s the only one who should be apologising. Alright?”

I nodded slightly, because I couldn't not, and took the tissues he handed me, ruffling them between my fingertips. 

“It just hurts, I 'spose. ‘Cause somewhere deep down inside, I’ve always sort of felt like I was disposable.” 

That confession felt like too much even in the moment and so I turned away from him, sniffing as I blinked back the welling tears again. Only, one slipped free, but I was quick to swipe it away, chuckling sadly at myself.

“God, bet you regret asking me out now.”

George was sure in the shake of his head. Face solemn. “Never. Just thankful to be here.”

I snorted softly in turn, not believing him for a second. 

“It’s the truth.” He shrugged, gifting me one of his small lopsided smiles.

I used the tissues then to wipe at my nose and caught him staring as I did. I tried to smile back. “Alright if I go clean myself up? Feel like I’ve been hit by a lorry or summat.”

George and I shared a small chuckle between us and he nodded as he stood from his seat, allowing me to slide past.

“I’ll just be a minute.” I assured him, but it was useless as he only rolled his eyes at me. Waving me off.

—

By the time I’d sorted myself out and fixed my makeup as best as I could, George was nowhere to be found.

My heart lurched as I walked back over to where we'd just been seated, eyes scanning the length of the shop whilst a million stupid thoughts ran through my head at a million miles an hour, only to be silenced by the very sight of him waiting outside for me by the curb. Obviously having gone out for a cigarette whilst he waited.

I calmed my racing heart. He hadn’t just upped and left. 

As I made my exit and thanked the gent who held the door open for me, its bell jingled, grabbing George’s attention from where he’d been toeing the outline of a drain. His lips curved up into a smile as I made my way over.

“Alright?” He nodded and I copied the action, releasing some of that remaining tension I’d just been working on shredding off in the girls loo’s.

“Can I?” I requested, titling my chin over towards the fag he held. His eyes dropped down to it too and he took a small drag before willingly giving it up. I hummed my appreciation, inhaling deeply.

“Feeling any better?” He quizzed, squinted stare unmoving from me as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat.

“Air helps.” I replied, then tried for a joke, wanting to lighten the weighted atmosphere I’d created. “But hey, they say bad things come in three’s, so I won’t be too surprised if I end up under a bus on the walk home.”

“Don’t say shit like that.” George grimaced, and shook his head as he looked away from me, seemingly paler at the very thought. I glanced away too, feeling a bit stupid. 

A long silence fell between us then and I used it to finish off the cigarette he’d lit. Already itching for another. But I wouldn’t. At least not yet. Not until I’d made it home and started running a bath. Waiting for that second where I could just hide away from the rest of the world again. An avoidance method I often frequented, which was appearing more and more enticing after everything that had happened over the last two days.

Still, I couldn’t leave things like this with George. I didn’t want to, try as I might. He’d been such a big part of my life growing up and today showed me that that fact hadn’t changed, even though our relationship had. 

Whatever had happened between us in the lead up to our breakup, and the period after it, could be sorted out if we tried hard enough. I didn’t want to lose him, I couldn’t. And if things panned out the way I hoped for them too, then I’d have to get used to dealing with a lot more than just patching things up between us, like him eventually falling in love with somebody else.

Just the idea of it had me rolling, nausea creeping its way up my spine making my head spin.

I moved to stub out the butt on a nearby brick wall, tossing it into the plant box sat outside the cafe. George had calmed somewhat and was gazing over, watching me as I walked back towards him.

I rubbed at the tip of my nose, eyes lingering on my feet a moment too long. He cleared his throat.

“I um, Ross and I were gonna meet up down the local in a bit for a drink, if you wanted to join.” He mentioned, scratching the back of his head. “Only if you fancy it though. Figure we could just put this on pause for a bit. Let you get your head sorted first.”

I blinked, a little surprised. By the offer or his sincerity, I wasn’t quite sure. But I found myself nodding slowly anyhow, shocking myself even further. The hot, relaxing bath I’d been dreaming about vanishing in a blink.

“Uh yeah, yeah that sounds nice, I think.” I replied, caught off guard. But I inhaled and got over myself enough to give him a sly smile. “Did MacDonald plan it this way, believing that our meet would end in shit?”

George snorted at the insinuation, smirking over at me from where he stood rocking back and forth on the paved path. “Maybe, but when’s he ever been this prepared for anything?”

I gave a light laugh, unable to help myself. Because wasn't that the truth.

“So we’re encouraging this sort of behaviour now?”

“Why not? He’s growing up.” George grinned and I felt my feet moving before my brain could catch up.

“Alright then. Lead the way, Daniels.”

Part eight>

[anonymous-eggy]

i had been talking to a friend and we had an idea that had been stuck with me for a while😃

um. vampire au👀 mc can also be a vamp but VAMPIRE AU…Nicky with sharp teeth..hehe… and red glowing eyes…

apparently i lied when i said i wasnt very interested in Nicky anymore. i think its just seasonal. warm weather brings back the need to think ab him. time to go through my dusty old inbox and spout gibberish at the ghosts.

jealous of anon for having a friend to talk ab Nicky with fr. if only fictif didnt suck and get abandoned, I'd force my friends to play it.

AS HOT AS VAMPIRE NICKY WOULD BE...I HAVE TO TALK AB VAMP MC

poor Nicky trying to hide the fact that he, a catholic (or so he swears, despite not acting very catholic) sicilian mob boss, is in love with a chaotic arsonist (possibly queer as hell) vampire mc is so so funny.

Like. suddenly he's also completely nocturnal bc he wants to spend time around his love and Chris is like "dude you never wanna do meetings during the day anymore, why do i have to go to all your daytime meetings" and Nicky has to try to pass off an excuse.

----

Chris: whatcha got there?

Nicky, holding a parasol over his vampire lover while holding their drink: alcohol :D

----

also... him allowing mc to bite his neck and then practically begging for it next time you need blood bc surprise this 6 foot somethin' mafia boss found out he gets a lil hot, bothered, and submissive when you bite him and drink his blood. straddle his lap while doin it to feel the effects what who said that. anyway. uh. 👀

the absolute confusion this man would feel in terms of whats possible and his faith. can someone be catholic and horny for a vampire lover? surely he can bc he also finds it hot how "wrong" it is despite how good it feels. but yeah tbh he wouldnt think too much bc he canonically doesn't think too hard ab love he just goes with what he feels and doesnt question much further than that.

(side tangent: i adore him so much for being one of the only love interests I've ever seen that canonically uses no labels for his sexuality. no label representation. i adore that he doesnt wanna be put in a box. and its not just because he lives in the 1920s and doesnt have the word for his sexuality, he just truly doesnt vibe with labelling his sexuality. good for him. if you didnt know this, surprise! thats a fun fact from this dumbass who knows practically everything about his character bc i cant be chill about anything and must know everything)

anyway for example with my self insert(ish) mc: trans gay little vampire man who turns into a sgrunkly little bat and hangs from his chandelier in protest that Nicky had to go to a daytime meeting for once? Nicky comes out of the kitchen with a lil platter of fruits to lure him down for a cuddle by the fire place while sweetly apologizing bc god forbid he do his job and not suffer the wrath of a little clingy dustball squeaking at him.

OR NICKY TUCKING LITTLE BAT MC IN HIS COAT DURING THE DAY WHILE HE DOES HIS ROUNDS CHECKING ON HIS BUSINESSES?! he just reaches into his coat every now and then to give his love a little scritch on the head 😭 and everyone around him gets nervous that he's hiding something super valuable or dangerous that he doesnt wanna lose (which is true, but not in the way they think)

see also: Nicky getting into some trouble during the night and being all chill ab it and saying to the guys "oh im not the one you gotta be afraid of" and the guys laughing until guard dog Mc appears, absolutely pissed, hungry, and ready to hunt their fill for the night.

and mc just randomly one day being like "you realize im a good 200 years older than you, right." after Nicky says something that implies Mc is younger and Nicky immediately lights up and just begins asking baseball history questions, not even phased by Mc saying that. which is much to Mc's dread.

my brain worms have recently been obsessed with the concept of a mob boss falling in love with a vampire anyway, so this is prime thinks for me.

i shall continue rotating this in my mind.

[florilegia-or-what-you-will]

Commonplace Songs

So. Here’s the thing. I have a bad habit of skimming, especially when I’m reading rubrics. I don’t notice I’m doing it but it can mean I miss important bits of information, such as the part about your last entry being a 250 word retrospective. Luckily I am aware of this deficiency of mine so I tend to check my rubrics periodically to make sure I haven’t missed anything. So I wrote the post. But. Before I realized there was a set end to the life of this blog I still intended my own form of wrap-up. I decided to make a playlist with at least one song per reading from this class. Even after I knew I just had to write a lil paragraph I couldn’t get the idea out of my head so here is the playlist anyway. [Commonplace Songs] Obviously it would be a bit of a time commitment to listen to the whole thing, so this was mostly just for my own enjoyment, but I had too much fun not to share. Notes for each song under the cut.

Abbess Hild & Caedmon, & Caedmon’s Hymn - Sisters of Mercy - Leonard Cohen

This one was honestly one of the most difficult to figure out. I generally struggled most to find songs for the explicitly religious texts, but I think this one works pretty well if you think of it as being from Caedmon’s perspective.

The Exeter Book Riddles - The Riddle Song - Joan Baez | Scarborough Fair - Simon and Garfunkel

These are cheating a little I know, since they both have very old origins themselves. I did consider including Schubert’s Swansong as a reference to Riddle 7, but I’ve tried to stick with songs that have lyrics.

The Wanderer - Man of Constant Sorrow - Joan Baez

Man of Constant Sorrow is really a modern version of The Wanderer to me. An exile “bound to ramble” away from their loved ones, unable to see them again in this life.

Deor - This Too Shall Pass - Danny Schmidt

This one is obvious from the title, and she makes rings! What more could you ask?

The Wife’s Lament - You Don’t Have to Say You Love Me - Dusty Springfield | One Too Many Mornings - Joan Baez

You Don’t Have to Say You Love Me really captures the tragedy of still being in love with someone who’s abandoned you. I think the desire for physical proximity really works with The Wife’s Lament. One Too Many Mornings works for the feeling of physical, but more importantly, temporal distance. The tortuous, and at the same time mundane passing of time, and the feeling of it being too late.

Wulf and Eadwacer - Farewell Wanderlust - The Amazing Devil

I struggled with this one. Another song considered was Better Man by Pearl Jam but I think Farewell Wanderlust works better even if it's less specific. It's got the anger, frustration, heartbreak, and defeat going for it. 

Dream of the Rood - The Becoming - Nine Inch Nails 

I decided no church music was allowed which made this one harder. I decided to lean into the slight body horror of the description of the cross shifting between bloodstained and bejewelled. Also: “He’s covered with scabs he’s broken and sore” just like Jesus! Obviously this doesn’t really suit the glorious tone the poem was going for, but I personally found the poem a bit unsettling.

Judith - Glory and Gore - Lorde | The Dismemberment Song - Blue Kid

Glory and Gore definitely fits the tone of the poem best, it's hard to explain why without going line by line, but trust me this one is exceptionally good for Judith. The Dismemberment Song is here even though it's not quite right, because it was suggested to me and it made me laugh. Content warning though, it is very clinically detailed about, you know, dismemberment.

The Battle of Maldon - Immigrant Song - Led Zeppelin

This one is pretty obvious right? I came so very close to including Waterloo by ABBA as well, but I do have some restraint.

History of the Kings of Britain - Set Fire to the Rain - Adele | Everybody Wants to Rule the World - Tears for Fears

Set Fire to the Rain is for Igerna. All that love, and vulnerability, and secrets, and distrust. This song is just about Igerna to me now, it's pretty perfect for her. Everybody Wants to Rule the World works really well for Arthurian legend. “Nothing ever lasts forever, everybody wants to rule the world”

The Mabinogi - Rhiannon - Fleetwood Mac | She’s Always A Woman - Billy Joel

Rhiannon is ludicrously obvious, I don’t think I need to explain. She’s Always A Woman is also about Rhiannon, specifically how Pwyll defends her and keeps her as his queen even though everyone is against her.

Lanval - Who is She? - I Monster | Come Wander With Me - Jeff Alexander

I feel like a magical woman appearing out of nowhere to be your girlfriend would actually be pretty trippy, hence Who is She? Come Wander With Me is a bit more suitable tonally. Have fun wandering off, never to be seen again, Lanval!

Ancrene Wisse - Agoraphobia - Deerhunter

As you might expect, from a song called Agoraphobia, this works well for anchoresses. The lyrics match the actual daily life of an anchoress surprisingly well.

Middle English Lyrics - Luck Be a Lady - Frank Sinatra

With regard to The Lady Dame Fortune is both frende and foe

Sir Orfeo - Frozen Pines - Lord Huron | Word Spins Madly On - The Weepies

Frozen Pines captures the frozen-in-time-ness and its about seeking a lost loved one in the woods. It's perfect. World Spins Madly On works because time has also very much not frozen, and they are apart from one another, knowing, and at the same time not knowing, where the other is. Honourable mention to Nothing Takes the Place of You by Toussaint McCall, which just wasn’t quite right, but has a maturity the other two lack.

Sir Gawain and the Green Knight I - Family Friend - The Vaccines

Poor Gawain is the only responsible adult at court. Jokes aside, this is a really good character song for Gawain.

Sir Gawain and the Green Knight II-III - All in Green Went My Love Riding - Joan Baez

I’ve mentioned this one before. It's too perfect not to include.

Sir Gawain and the Green Knight IV - Little Lion Man - Mumford and Sons

Another character portrait for my favourite boy Gawain! This also works for him in Morte d’Arthur. He tries so hard, and always comes just a little bit short, and then blames himself mercilessly.

Canterbury Tales – General Prologue - Prologue: Into the Woods - Stephen Sondheim

I’ll be honest, I had no idea what to do for this one, but I committed to a song per reading. It does work well in a way. They are both prologues that introduce a billion archetypal characters at once, tell you what they want, and make fun of the a little. Sondheim could have done a kick-ass musical adaptation of The Canterbury Tales.

Piers Plowman – Prologue - Land of the Believer - The Weather Girls

Club music perilously close to gospel music, I wouldn’t be surprised if this genuinely was about Jesus and religion. I considered skipping Piers Plowman because we didn’t actually go over it in class, but I’m a completionist.

Chaucer – Canterbury Tales – The Miller’s Tale - You Give Love a Bad Name - Bon Jovi

Oh Absolon… I considered going with Tainted Love, but I needed a ridiculous song for a ridiculous story.

Chaucer – Canterbury Tales – The Miller’s Tale - Put the Blame on Mame - “Rita Hayeworth” Anita Ellis

On the other hand, Put the Blame on Mame is about a beautiful woman being blamed for disasters both natural and human, but which is supposed to, in my opinion, make you think about how ridiculous it is to actually blame a woman for that kind of thing.

Julian of Norwich – A Revelation of Love - Space Age Love Song - A Flock of Seagulls

I love taking songs that aren’t supposed to be about Jesus and making them about Jesus, and Jesus in the role of alien girlfriend is funny to me. That said, it does work really well for the transcendent vibe of medieval mysticism.

The Book of Margery Kempe - Crazy - Gnarls Barkley | Policy of Truth - Depeche Mode

I found it a bit difficult to take Margery seriously at first, because she is patently a ridiculous person, but is she really crazy just because others think she is? Trying to think of songs for her is actually what made me take more seriously what her life was like. She experienced many dangers and a lot of persecution for living her truth, hence Policy of Truth.

The Book of Margery Kempe - Sad Eyed  Lady of the Lowlands - Joan Baez

A singular, and shockingly untouchable woman.

Second Shepherd’s Play - Mack the Knife - Ella Fitzgerald | Sheep - Pink Floyd

I admit, these are both kind of joke songs, but they do work! Mack because Mac, sheep because sheep.

Second Shepherd’s Play - Under Pressure - Queen and David Bowie

The slightly more serious choice for this play. It matches the complaining of the shepherds at the beginning of the play, and it has references to prayer, and a desire for change that works given it is a nativity play.

Noah’s Flood - Rain on Me - Lady Gaga (feat. Ariana Grande)

Okay, hear me out. I know it's a club song, but it's actually perfect for Noah’s wife. I can’t go line by line, but it expresses disappointment with a relationship, be it with God or Noah, but it also expresses gratitude for being alive, even though they wish they were “dry” , a reference to rain, and alcohol.

The Crucifixion - Blowing’ in the Wind - Joan Baez

This one was really hard without just choosing a song literally about the crucifixion, which would be cheating. Blowing in the Wind is about ignorance and apathy to human suffering, which is also what characterises the Roman soldiers. Also, yes, I will pick the Joan Baez version of every song I can. Thank you for asking.

Mankind -  WWJD - The Axis of Awesome | Out of Touch - Hall and Oates

Mankind - Send Them Off! - Bastille

WWJD is another joke song, but you can’t tell me a group of demons in a morality play wouldn’t sing this. Like the demons in the play, it humorously pokes at a question people would really be asking about how they are supposed to ever live up to Jesus. Out of Touch and Send Them Off! are more straightforwardly readable as Mankind singing to/for Mercy.

Morte d’Arthur, book 1 - Tower Song - Martha Wainright | In the Blood (feat. Ashley Barrett) - Darren Korb

Tower Song is my other song for Igerna. It works along the same lines as Ste Fire to the Rain, but it's a little more vicious. I was torn about including In the Blood, even though it works well for Arthur, because of course it does, I transposed one young hero who is the future of his people, onto another. I still think the Arthurian angle changes the way the song reads enough for it to work, though.

Morte d’Arthur,  book 8 - Happy Ending - MIKA | Heavy Crown - Trixie Mattel

For Happy Ending, please see my previous post on Lancelot and Guinevere. Heavy Crown is for Arthur, “Winning’s losing with a couple strings [...] Gotta be the last to know”, I think it suits the melancholy of all the lost glory Camelot, and how inevitable the whole thing felt to Arthur the second he was confronted by Agravaine and Mordred about Guinevere and Lancelot

[fenharel-apologist94]

WIP Whenever

I was tagged by @idolsgf for WIP Wednesday and while I did miss Wednesday, I have a degree in philosophy and I'm not afraid to use it to say time isn't real :3 Anyway, tysm for the tag! I'll add an actual writing piece at the end, but some of what I've been up to involved stuff that doesn't produce a "work", per se, but it's all part of the process!

I think most of everyone who I would tag has been tagged by someone else, so I'll leave this as an open tag to anyone who wants to do it for today :)

What's Icy been doing???

Organizing

With suspicion of Google Docs growing, I figured it was time for me to consider an alternative. I'd been thinking of it anyway and so this was a lil nudge for me to make the switch to Scrivener! After the initial mass export, I've been spending some time getting oriented to Scrivener and organizing all my documents and notes. I am absolutely enamored with Scrivener so far!!

Planning

While writing NADAF, I learned a lot - and as a result, one of the things I want to get better at is plotting/planning my fics. NADAF helped me really fall in love with writing as a hobby, not just in the actual putting-words-together writing but in the thought process behind it as well. What will these characters struggle with? How will their histories and personalities affect the story? What do I want to tell my readers, and how? So I've been having some fun thinking through those things for Tea Leaves and Sweet Dreams, as well as NADAF's future sequel, Yet Another Dragon Age Fanfic.

Writing

The last part of NADAF is underway!! I'm trying to get what I can written but its slow-going. I also may have gotten derailed by Tea Leaves and Sweet Dream again cause ya girl's got shit to process and this is how we do it. What can I say, I needed a bit a fluff (and a bit of angst) in my life. So below the cut is a sneak peak of Chapter 6: Honey Chamomile (pt. 2)!

TLSD fic summary:

There are four things Kieran knows about Solas: (1) He’s Professor Flemeth’s infamously irritable and reclusive TA, and tears his essays to shreds (2) He’s Kieran’s new labmate in one of the most difficult academic programs in Ferelden, under the supervision of one of the most mysterious professors alive (3) Solas hates point (2) (4) Solas hates tea When Solas makes his distain for Kieran clear, Kieran decides to fight fire with tea. Will Solas survive this tea war? Will Kieran find the one tea Solas can tolerate? Is there more brewing beneath the surface that neither of them want to confront? (The answer is yes.)

He’s probably going to stay in the room, Kieran repeated firmly to himself. He glared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. You need to get a grip.

Unfortunately, the rim of the sink seemed to be the only thing he could get a grip on. His heart hadn’t slowed from the moment he left Solas sitting on his bed, and Kieran couldn’t shake the sense that this was going to be a long night.

He caught sight of the bedraggled state of his ponytail and grimaced self-consciously. Creators, he was a mess. He was halfway through fixing it when he caught himself. Who was he trying to impress? Solas?

As if, he snorted to himself, dropping his hands. He was in his pajamas, for crying out loud. There was very little appeal to be found in his gray t-shirt and navy, ‘Denerim U’-emblazoned pajama bottoms. That is, if he were trying to impress anyone. Which he wasn’t.

He quickly redid his ponytail into something a little neater before he could think too hard about it. It couldn’t hurt.

Once Kieran felt reasonably adequate in his appearance, he took one last, steadying breath before venturing towards the kitchen. As he drew closer, the sound of laughter greeted him alongside the tempting scent of warm pizza. Was that... Solas laughing? Kieran squinted. There was no way such a carefree sound was coming from someone so chronically solemn. Skeptical, he rounded the corner into the kitchen.

[azlovesem]

Hey i do a lot of other thongs that might boggle ypur lil brain. I thiunk you found thatvput the hard way. I kill i do that too. Now youvstupid fucon monkeys listen tye fuck up. Now i need those hostages released. If i font getvwhatvi want youll funckn know it becausecim gonna fuckn snap and kill a lot of you. Ill smack that yahoos head around so gard itll spin so fast you wont be able to see he his lying fucon face. Ahhh this good ol guy did me a favor. The wars over your leaders dead. Negotiate release all the hostages seek peace. Then thst guy is sncient history we can csll an election. You have to release sll the hostsges. Or im gonna fuck you ip like you dont even onow how. Youll think you got attacked by alien killers. Who work for God. Ill throw anyone out a fuckn window on to their heads. I dont think you morons get it. Come fight of furl youll find out im not human like you are. Im Azriel Gods favorite. Sooooooooo surrender! Uoubsint fightn shit. I dont even care about the writingyoubtook younpaid in doades suckas. Ha ha ha everyone knows im back that too yhanls for your help.

i look at a lot of gorls pics on here but yeah you asshole i have to admit i do like yours most you lil bitch. Try not yo take this too seripusly remember i font know thats why this tocks and is do funny. Ahh fuck thrm. Look at em. Ha ha ha ha. No i vsnt i waa going to bit i love that chick. Shescreally great and her lil dayghter. See kids no ones perfect but see hiw nicevthwt lady is. Id break a bunchnof other people necks before hers not even I can trll pierre to torch everything: oh he will hes fuvked he lo do it just to see. Hes kind of cruel that tripstone Pete..its not all hos fault its a cruel world. When we get yogether its noyhn but laughs. We arent cruel to each other we re old friends from way back. Hes funny. And highly intelligent. And sn idiot. Running this ding bat lkanet is my real job. It sucks thos place is full of losers. Time to clean house. Gabriel open fire.

She knows!

[lila-skies]

20:53

it's a yearly tradition now: shinichiro closing his shop early every 31st of october to celebrate halloween and give out candies to the children. together with the black dragons founding members, you exert the effort to dress up every year. tonight, you are rapunzel because emma and senju who are cinderella and belle respectively said so.

"that's the last kid," you announce after the boy walked away, looking back at the guys. "we are out of candies already."

"hah, thank goodness." wakasa helps to remove the head of the bear mascot, revealing a sweating benkei. "it's very hot. i'm not doing that again."

benkei wore a bear mascot for tonight because he lost a bet against the three. takeomi, the classic ghost face, while wakasa is howl pendragon; and since you are rapunzel, shinichiro, your boyfriend, is obviously flynn rider

"there were a lot of kids tonight," takeomi says, a lit cigarette between his lips.

"compared to last year, yeah," shinichiro responds, lighting his own cigarette. for the first time in five hours, it's his first one because you chewed him out. "i don't even know most of the kids that came."

"i mean, that's much better." remembering last year's happenings, you only shake your head with a chuckle. "at least your siblings will not fight for their lives to have the remaining candies."

"remember when manjiro had his ass handed to him by senju?" takeomi laughs at what wakasa said and says 'yeah, 'course that's my 'lil sister.'

last year, only the neighborhood kids came, that's why there were a lot of candies left. kids are kids. the four of them were competing with each other, something about who received more treats. manjiro happened to find the candies shinichiro hid just when he was already losing, but senju caught him and the rest is history.

"who do you think got more candies tonight?" you ask shinichiro, walking hand in hand with him. the two of you are on the way to pick the kids up in the baji household.

"emma, probably," he answers. "she's a natural charmer."

"oh, by the way. i got a chocolate from the last boy earlier!"

"you did?"

"yeah, it's this one. looks imported, though," you show him the now empty wrapper. "it tastes sweet, i like it."

that little boy was adorable. after you handed him the treats, he took five from his pumpkin and gave them to you while telling you "because rapunzel worked hard today!"

"do you have more?" shinichiro asks, glancing at you. "i want to taste it, too."

"no, it's only one." you lift your dress a little, trying to get a different candy in the pocket of your shorts. "but you can have this—"

before you could even finish, shinichiro's lips were already on yours. you stand frozen when you felt his tongue inside your mouth like he's actually trying to taste the chocolate you are eating. the next thing you know, the chocolate is already gone but not because it melted.

you feel heat rise to your cheeks, and shinichiro only cracks a smile at your reaction. a proud one at that. shinichiro sticks out his tongue, flaunting the chocolate he stole inside your mouth.

"you are right. it does taste sweet."

"shin!" you shriek, getting more embarrassed and flushed by the minute. "what if someone saw?!"

"i doubt someone did. it's already la—"

"shinichiro, you are a pervert! what are you doing to her?!"

suddenly, a voice the both of you are familiar with came from behind you, causing the two of you to flinch in your places. your boyfriend stares at you, mouth open, as if he's about to be taken away by a grim reaper.

the said grim reaper is no other than manjiro.

"get away from her, shin-nii!" emma shouts, her arms crossed while glaring at her brother.

"wait!" shinichiro raises both of his hands as manjiro continues to stride over his direction. "let me explain!"

manjiro didn't and chased shinichiro. while you and emma held each other's hands and followed behind them, cackling at how desperate shinichiro looked trying to make manjiro stop.

well maybe, it was actually a good thing that there was only one chocolate left.

ah yes, the horimiya candy kiss. i feel like my writing got so rusty so i'm sorry about that ;____;

[finelinevogue]

Can you do a bad boy Harry blurb because he is my weakness and I would do anything for him? Thank you.

hun bad boy harry is ALL of our weakness. that man is kryptonite. anyways let’s do a lil blurb for something that might become a lil series - lemme know what you think?! im thinking maybe strangers to fuck buddies to lovers hmm??

You had been on your third fourth jack and coke by the time you saw him.

Burning, lustful, emeralds for eyes. Hair that was so messily unkept that it looked so put together. Black t-shirt. Black jeans. Black shoes. His aura was dark, but his smile told you otherwise. The dimples that were carved into his face told you he was hiding a completely different person behind this exterior, which is why he was so enticing. You saw a piece of yourself in him. Your outfit was a lot like his; black upon black, but it was veil to keep your true self protected. Hidden. You’d exposed yourself before and it hadn’t gone too well for you. The lesson had been learnt.

Other lessons, like ��stay clear of bad boys and danger’ were much harder to learn. This moment being a prime example of that.

“Another round?” His voice was not as you expected. It held gravity and strength. It was holding so much behind it, you could tell.

“No thanks. I think i’ve drank my poison for the night.” You countered back and turned to look at him for the first time up close.

Fuck, was he perfect.

His cupid pink lips. The freckles on his nose. The slight signs of a permanent frown line to his upper forehead. He was just… wow. You suddenly felt like he could put Brad from Sex/Life to shame - a recent show you’d watched where you’d questioned your entire existence and entire future existence. You could sense there was so much behind his emotionless front too, just waiting for someone to take the risk and divulge in him completely.

He leaned his arms on the bar, letting the weight of the bar-top hold him up. The way he stood let his arms bulge from his tight t-shirt, expressing the veins and concentrating muscle making him look like a Greek sculpture, let alone a human - beautiful - being of a man. He was so carefree in his body language and he definitely didn’t shy away when you caught him checking you up and down.

“Yeah? Well i’m staying for one more round and I kinda hoped you would too.” He waved a hand for the bartender to come over, standing up properly now. He towered over you, even with you sat high on a barstool. He was intimidating and powerful, and you liked that.

“What can I get for you?” The bartender asked, wiping down the counter you two sat behind as a good-willed gesture.

“Whiskey. Neat.” The mysterious hunk of a man ordered, nodding his head in thanks to the man but before he could go off anywhere you quickly added in your own drink too.

“Another jack and coke too.” You said, causing the man to turn and smirk at you only for you to then do the same. “On his tab this time.” He chuckled at you for being so bold and demanding, but didn’t resist nonetheless as the bartender walked off to fulfil your order.

“Jack and coke?” He sounded surprised, but also not.

“Disappointed. You want a girl who drinks pink gin or white whine?” You teased, sucking on the end of your straw from your previous drink. He looked at your mouth, watching the way your lips danced with the straw and the way your tongue licked the remainders of a previous drink away. The sight was so minimally sensual, yet it sent his body into overdrive.

“No, but why? Are you offering, darling?” The way he spoke so smoothly had you weak at the knees, so you were grateful you were sat down.

“I’ll be whoever you want me to be.” You kept eye contact with him as you spoke, biting down once on the straw for added effect - until he snatched it away. You didn’t expect him to be so quick with his movements, but as he stole your straw he kept his face close to yours.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He whispered hotly against your face, before leaning back again. Just in time, your drinks came and both of your thanked the bartended. Watching him put your straw back into your new glass, you weren’t expecting him to lean over and take a sip from your mix. He hummed in delight, looking up at you as he leaned back to sit closer to his drunk.

“And?”

“Tastes like you.” He chuckled before facing back forwards to watch the passing bartenders and crowds of people in this thumping club. “You have a name, darling?”

“Obviously, but why should I give it to you sweet cheeks?”

“Sweet cheeks?”

“Seems only fair, what with you calling me darling don’t you think?”

“No.” That made you stop drinking your drink and look at him abruptly, to find he was already waiting for your stare, “I don’t play fair.”

You thought he was joking about the whole thing, but the look in his eyes told you a completely different story. He was angry and frustrated, a combination in your history that doesn’t mix nicely together. At least not as nicely as jack and coke. If you were ever going to get this guy to reveal at least an inch of himself you were going to have to obey his rules, even if they were slightly indifferent to you.

“No more sweet cheeks then. Sorry.” You blushed, turning away from him to stir through the liquid in your glass.

You had never really been one to apologise to people. Never really had the need you. You’d always kept yourself to yourself, although that not always being most helpful. Apologising, you thought, made you seem weak. Turns out you’re weak for not. Manners make you stronger, build you to be a better person and strengthen you to me mentally stronger.

The crowds of youths and strange elderly people swarmed the sweaty room, making you sweat more than you would like. Still, the room had atmosphere and reminded you that your life was very much alive. You were very much alive.

“Sorry what?” You realised the guy had said something next to you, but you’d completely missed what. Apologising, again.

“It’s uh Harry.” He cleared his throat midway through speaking. You understood that he was nite telling you his name and you could tell he wasn’t lying by the sincerity in his eyes, the same way he could tell you weren’t lying about yours.

“Y/N.”

“Lovely name.” He smiled at you when you caught his eye, making you grin back.

“Well I like yours too.” You nodded, trying to repay a compliment even if it was slightly lacking something special.

“Mhm,” he laughed, throwing back the rest of his drink, “you come here often? I haven’t seen you before.”

“I come when I need a release.”

“Oh I bet.” You didn’t miss the words he boldly spoke. You like him. Harry had spark and he was passionate. You could feel the lust radiating from him body like a heatwave and you craved it all so badly.

“I also come when I shouldn’t.” You finished the rest of your drink, returning your mouth to your straw whilst looking at him. Harry was now standing so close to you that your head was tilted back ever-so-slightly.

“So you’re disobedient.” He asked, reaching his hand forwards to take the straw of your mouth and putting it down on the side. The distraction was unnecessary and, quite frankly for Harry, a real dick-hardener.

“I like being punished.” You spoke quietly, as if the walls weren’t vibrating from the loudness of the music amplifiers.

“Are you here right now even when you shouldn’t be?” Harry asked, licking his lips and looking between yours and yours eyes. He was having a hard time focusing on which one he found more perfect. Your eyes were full of treasure and wonder, but your lips. God, were they so kissable. Too kissable.

He wanted to make your lips bleed from lust.

“Yes.”

“And so you’re going to be punished for it, you say?” Harry’s torso was getting dangerously close to your chest. His head tilted down so he was only inches away from yours, allowing you to smell the whiskey on his breath and the perfume on his body. He was sensory overload.

“Mhm.”

“By who?”

Now that was an interesting question.

You chuckled, invasive and repulsive thoughts running through your head, as you stood up out of your seat, standing tall in your high heels and yet even still you were small in comparison to Harry. In a good way though.

Too bad you had to cut it all short.

“Find a pink gin lady, Harry. She’ll be easier than me.” You picked up your jacket and your bag, swinging it over your shoulder. You tap his shoulder as you round the chair, giving him a half-hearted smile before leaving.

[enthusiasticharry]

Second Best

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

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

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

masterlist   |    speak to me about second best here!

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You shouldn’t joke about that.”

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

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

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

“Don’t you dare say paintings!”

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

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

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

“If you say so.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Harry.” He smiles, “M’names Harry.”

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

“You must be—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod, “I love to.”

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

“It’s not beautiful though.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please. Call me Lizzie.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is there something wrong?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Europe?” He asks, “You want to go?” 

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

“Can you not do that here?” 

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

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

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

“I don’t think I understand.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why don’t you leave then?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then I will teach you.” He says. 

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

“Deal.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m letting go of you.” 

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

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

“You’re not going to fall.” 

“I am.” 

“You’re not.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I might.” 

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

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

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

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

“You don’t talk about you mother.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You do have you.” 

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

“You respected that?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What have you done now?” 

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

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

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

“Thank you for bringing her home, Harry.” 

“It’s no problem.” 

“Would you like to stay for dinner?” 

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

“Pass my love onto your father.” 

“I will.” 

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

“What is it?” 

“Does he know?” 

“Does he know what?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“His name is Theodore.” 

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

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

“Are you alright?” 

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

“You too, Harry.” 

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

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

“But—”

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

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

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

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

“To Theodore.” 

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

“But you want to be.” 

“What makes you think that?” 

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

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

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

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

“I thought you were in love with Harry.” 

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

“He loves you.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How have you ended up?” 

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

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

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

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

“Please.” He says, “Come in.” 

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

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

“Thank you.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You asked?” 

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

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

“See what?” 

“The ring.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s not your fault.” 

“She’s my sister.” 

“You’re not in charge of her.” 

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

“Did she ever love me?” 

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

“That doesn’t make it any easier.”

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

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

“Whatever you need, H.” You say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You aren’t second best, YN!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not sulking.” 

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

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

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

“There’s nothing to tell.”

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

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

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

“What does that mean?” 

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

“Who told you that?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Four Years Later

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

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

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

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

Pierre was the person who had helped you do that. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What time should I be ready?” 

“I’ll pick you up at eleven.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I look exhausted.” 

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

“I’m. . .” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You haven’t.” 

“You haven’t, either.” He smiles.

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

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

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

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

“I could.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why not?” 

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

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

“Do you want to marry him?” 

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

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

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

“I do.” You say, quickly. 

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

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

“Then why are you marrying him.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Harry—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tomorrow?” 

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

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

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

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

“I’ll see you later, love.” 

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

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

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

“Is something bothering you?” 

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

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

“Yes?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you ever love me?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you too.” 

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

“You may now kiss the bride!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod your head, “Please.” 

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

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

“Good?” 

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

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

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

“I don’t want to hurt you.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you so much.” You smile. 

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

“I do now.” 

Three Years Later

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m glad I didn’t give up on you.” 

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

“I love you too.” 

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

[captainswhore]

mmkay i'm ready to talk about it some more.

i'm literally on my lunch break at my office job and i don't think i've been this horny in a good long while. sorry if this is utterly unhinged.

the 141 are already jealous of price. soaps the mouthiest of the three under the captains care- always bitchin about how "what the hell does cap'n have that i don't? shit british teeth?" and how "what the hell does that bonnie lass see in the old man anyways? is it the viagara? i'll start taking it"..... price hears that last one and soap has bathroom duty for 3 weeks and has to run extra laps to "make up for running his mouth" (it's a problem for you. when you're there and soap's panting harder than anyone else is from running extra your panties are wetter than the sweat slicked shirt sticking to his tits.)

gaz isn't too far behind him. he won't shut up about "christ cap got a good one" and "fuck, wish she was into blokes more her age" and the fuckin kicker comes when he's really drunk once out at the pub with the team and he sees prices arm around your shoulder and his fingers idly tracing your arm and he blurts out "is it 'is dick lovie? *hic* issit tha' big? cap, whip it out and lemme look. gotta see what's got the pretty lady glued to your side".... the smack that ghost gave him to the back of his head sent his hat flying onto the table and made soap laugh so hard ale came out of his nose.

ghost? he's more subtle about it. lingering stares on you n cap interacting. stares at your hands when they're wrapped around prices massive fuckin bear paws for hands. watches the way you sit just a little bit closer to him in the pub.

and price clocks all of this- obviously. mutters somethin about "sharin you with the team, fuck, lil pink pussy bein stretched out as a team bonding activity" when he's grinding his heavy cock into you. you can feel his balls tighten and his orgasm feels never ending when you reply with a breathy whine and a slurred "cap- please! wan' be shared wi' th' boys!"

lo and behold. the morning before the boys deploy, he makes you wear four different sets of the nicest undies you own. ones that were recently purchased by him, in the boys favorite colors.

digs his fingers into your cunt when you have black cotton panties on with a skull pattern until you cum at least twice. lets you take a breather and leak into them before he wipes his fingers on the gusset of them and peels them off of you. takes a picture of you with the panties on your stomach, a fucked out smile on your face and your tits half exposed from being pulled out of your bra and shirt neckline. bunches it onto the end of the bed.

finds green lacey cheeky panties and makes you cum again (TWICE! this man will be the death of you) when he rubs your clit through the fabric and suckles your nipples. does the same thing as before. gives you a breather, rubs your cunt through the undies to get them well and truly soaked, peels them off, takes a picture. this time your nipples shine with spit and the flush on your face is a little more evident.

found a thong with the scottish flag across the front of them (don't ask him where he got them. his search history is something you don't wanna ask about. his amazon history? fuckin crazy.) makes you soak this all the way through and this time makes you leave them on when he takes the polaroid picture- thighs spread wide so your glistening pussy is peeking out a little bit from the sides of the thong. you smile at the camera with half lidded eyes.

the best is saved for last. it's prices favorite pair of your underwear ever. your most basic, white, cotton. with a tiny pink bow on the front. this time the picture is of you, ass up face down, with your panties tucked to the side and his fat cock nestled in your pussy. the pic is a little shaky because price is having a REALLY HARD TIME holding the camera steady.

...... this face and gesture is the one he makes when the boys are about to board with him, and your face heats when you ask "hun.... you remember the pics? and the accessories with them?" all quiet. the boys look SO CONFUSED, which kind if makes your embarrassment worse, but price has never been so proud.

imagine what their return would look like?!?!?

@chamomiletealeaf why do we encourage eachothers horny lil drabbles i am so endlessly glad we found eachother as horny tumblr friends what the hell would i do without you to discuss this with.

OH I AM GOING TO HELL.

This came up in a conversation I had a while ago with @captainswhore

But imagine this gif is Price going on deployment and he’s patting the pocket that’s securing your panties he just pulled off of you to take with him.

[foolishgamers]

SOME (MORE) OSMP QUOTES FROM THE STREAMS TODAY (10/4)

*this is a very long post- you have been warned*

——————

“if you work hard enough labor can be free”

“dare we expand some crevices for a minute”

“wait, tubbo’s pregnant & ranboo’s the father?”

*joins call* “are you pregnant?”

“not being doesn’t work for me, i really like being alive”

“so how have things been? i heard you’re not pregnant”

“what’s your preferred type of minor?” “i can’t really answer that”

“how do we get rid of you sneeg”

“are you alright? you did one of those dsmp lore sighs”

“yeah i found toby face down on the lawn”

“i can be your rehab”

“you literally talk in crayola crayon”

“i need to go chop down shit, for therapeutic reasons”

“friendship over with tubbo, ranboo is my new beloved”

“i thought no one was supposed to get married without me”

“hear me out, i’m going to make a tik tok at your wedding”

“strip mining is dead”

“anyways” *messages sneeg ‘you’re out the server’*

“you have made me a worse man”

“i worry i talk about myself too much. how are you?”

“can i burn down your house for a vlog”

“my above average body is pulling down my below average mind”

“alright schlatt” “OKAY SNEEG YOURE OUT”

“the tree is naked? WHAT??”

*tommy messages wil : ‘HELP ME!!!!!!!!!!!’*

“i’ll sniff out the diamonds for you!” *aggressive sniffing noises*

“dudddde, you can’t just go around taking other peoples kids tubbo!” “sorry, it happens”

“you’re gaslighting me!”

“what’s with you and arson today?” “ i just love arson.”

“ranboo, i need you to show up to toby’s house with a knife and a dream”

“if tubbo dies and i’m even slightly responsible i’ll be like “man that’s annoying’ “

“me and charlie damillio? i’d get rid of tubbo for that”

“i’m sorry i kept trying to murder you” “when did you try to murder me?”

“i don’t know what charlie damillio does”

“no don’t get hate haha, just make some tik toks”

“what does she do?” “…………………………… she’s great”

“why don’t the manifold’s have a show? keeping up with the manifolds”

“don’t do as i say or i do or anything”

“is tommy a brand risk wilbur?” “yup :)”

“phil’s making me a lil house and when he’s done i’ll give him a kiss”

“you can be friends with a lil kiss”

“what is a boy without his glass?”

“don’t pity laugh, give me my glass!”

“it’s so easy to upset you” “ that’s it i’m putting you down”

“why is niki ‘the cutest predator?” “because i am”

“im lost.” “that’s nothing new” 

“ you know what? i’m not girlbossing i’m manfailing”

“now i birth”

“tubbo where are you?” “he’s at my birthing pod”

“i woke up and chose to struggle”

“want to go build bridges with me tubbo?” “okay but i’m not doing any of the work.”

“niki, i’m in my fail era help me.”

“okay you just need to stop being a failure, can you do that for me?”

“tubbo, can i manipulate you to prove a point?”

“toby it sounds like you haven’t been gaslighted in a while”

“tubbo do you know where i left my child?”

“you keep her on the noose i’ll go build a home”

“i hope you feel better soon tubbo :D” “i don’t.”

“what are you doing tubbo?” “suffering”

*giggling* “why are you stealing a child tubbo?”

“i’ll pay you your fees for watching my child”

“your house is full of coal” “oh no santa!”

“im sick of being bullied, i’m gonna start bullying myself so you don’t have to”

“im gonna pee” “pissing circle let’s go!”

“WHERE IS THE GOOP KING”

“i don’t like spending time with you tubbo” “that’s how it should be”

“phil i need repent!”

“why are you taking your anger out on me?” “ i have to take it out on someone important to me”

“if i was a chicken what would i want”

“can you go follow someone else tubbo?” “ no i need to follow someone with a bad origin”

“you’ll never find me, it’s raining and i’m viscous”

“tubbo can i not have larceny committed against me real quick?”

“do you have a couple balls to spare?”

“charlie how do i milk you?”

“at least now we can milk him again”

“do you have any balls? “ “im ball-less. i’m neutered.”

“did you make that man give birth?”

“you hit him so hard he birthed a child!”

“if only someone produced enough content to sustain a hive.”

“tubbo don’t eat his slimey balls”

“charlie im double fisting you”

“give me a book and i’ll start writing history”

“get your balls here”

“gunky chunky funky man. taking the world one gunk at a time”

“i can’t believe you just causally gave birth”

“this started out as a reading of ‘real history’ and ended as a funeral”

“i think you should have the honor of naming my dead son”

these are all i got today but if i missed any good ones feel free to add :))

[kira-fluff]

Hellonio👉 I heard headcannon requests are open, and I was hoping to ask for *cough* sell my soul for *cough* the RFA + Saeran with a huge history and science nerd MC. Pretty please with honey Buddha chips on top?

a/n: when I say this request is fine, when I say this request is SCRUMPDIDLYUMPCIOUS!! thank you T-T it’s beautiful // since you specified Saeran but left three other characters unspecified, please send another request if you’d like a part 2 with the rest of the characters! 

-

MC who is a History and Science Nerd

Saeyoung 

Saeyoung is the Blueprint for being a nerd 

like come on he tries to flirt with you in binary code

I think he’d still tease you though 

little things like “oh wow my little nerd~” 

you have to remind him sometimes how big of a dork he is 

pokes your cheeks when you’re reading something 

instead of paying attention to him haha 

literally will pout 

if you ignore him too much 

still, seven is the type to get into your passions too 

seeing the way your eyes light up

he is intrigued and ends up loving it just as much as you do 

tries to make REALLY bad science puns 

I just imagine each time he’d tease you he couldn’t hold back the big smile he makes 

when he sees you look a little pouty 

if you don’t include him when you watch history documentaries he will be very very petty 

might ignore you until you say, “well, do you want to watch to?” 

when you were studying for your chemistry exam

instead of being helpful 

seven whispers dirty jokes in your ear 

all science-related of course 

oh gosh he LOVES messing with you so much 

will steal your little journals recording plant growth and read them out loud 

he’d hold it over his head when you try to grab it 

“LOLOL YOU NAME YOUR PLANTS?!” 

“ssSTOP!! SEV STOP!!” 

little mischievous giggles 

oh gosh he loves you so much. 

Saeran 

watching you talk about the subjects you love – it’s his favorite thing 

when your eyes light up and you have this big, geeky smile on your face 

he’s not good enough with his words to express it to you 

the way his heart rate speeds up 

and oh 

when you realize you’ve been talking non-stop 

and you blush profusely 

apologizing, saying you didn’t realize you were talking so long 

he shakes his head, “no, I like it. I like it when you talk about the things you love. tell me more.” 

now you’re blushing for a different reason.. how did you end up so lucky?

literally so supportive 

hypes you up while you’re studying 

makes you little flashcards ;-; 

loves you so much 

will genuinely give you lil kisses (they’re shy) when you tell him all about your favorite wars because ?? 

THAT’S SO CUTE uwu

PLANTS 

p l a n t s 

he has so many plants 

shows you all of them 

has names for each one

and his beautiful flowers

will read with you plant care books and scientific experiments about them

honestly will spend looooong nights just staying up and talking with you 

like can you just IMAGINE 

staying up til 5am… talking about everything and nothing 

accidentally falling asleep together on the couch 

he loves how you smell, and subconsciously hugs you closer 

you wake up 

and in a moment of boldness 

you wake up and exhales 

and hugs you a little tighter 

Yoosung 

he’s a (sort of failing) university student 

to be honest you will use each others strengths if you are in classes with him 

you lowkey carry him with all the assignments and studying you help him with 

but he really admires you 

he’s not really the type to seek things out for the sake of curiousity 

sure, gaming is different

but when it comes to subject matters and non-fiction it all flies past him 

he’s no dummy, it’s just hard for him to apply himself to something he doesn’t even really care about 

so meeting someone so refreshingly different from him is so, so nice 

not to mention you’re so incredibly sweet and kind 

you’re so patient with him 

and when you lean in to help him understand the concept more.. 

he can’t get enough of it 

he thinks it’s so cute how you’re so passionate and geek out occasionally 

you inspire him to succeed 

because you can do anything

and yoosung thinks that if you cheer him on, he’s able to do anything too 

oddly enough, he might even find a certain area of what you love to be really interesting, too

but honestly you kind of lose him when you get into astrophysics 

like are you even speaking korean anymore 

he can’t keep up with you 

when you talk about things he can’t really wrap his mind around 

but he could listen to you all day 

he would also probably want to tell you a lot about his own hobbies 

it’s very sweet how you both can love what the other loves – simply because you or he loves it 

Jumin

honestly Jumin is incredibly smart 

like he knows so much about almost everything 

so he eats up all the conversations you have about historical events or the sciences 

he’d hold his palm over his mouth, resting his chin on his palm simultaneously 

trying not to laugh 

because he looked at his watch 

and you’d been gushing about a new scientific breakthrough for the last ten minutes 

he’d avoid eye contact with you in that moment because he might lose all control 

and say it out loud 

I love it when you talk like that.

resisting you might be the only thing Jumin isn’t good at 

buys you ANYTHING remotely close to the subjects you like

if he ever sees something in a store, he’d immediately buy it on impulse 

“Y/n would like this..” 

God if you weren’t already dating it’d be beyond obvious that he’s so smitten with you 

He’d just give you it casually, saying, “I found something for you..” 

He’d pay any price just to see your eyes sparkle and a big smile light up your face 

Cute. 

He’s so patient, so even if you stay up late doing research or reading, he’d stay up 

and listen to you if you’d read to him 

or do some of his own reading 

can you imagine Jumin reading one of your little books during his free time? 

like oh my gosh 

he has a habit of getting really into your passions 

he’s certain anything you are passionate about is worth learning more about 

[mqnasluvr]

heya ! i heard you were new around here, could i request headcanons of enemies to lovers with kaeya and childe ? any pronouns are fine ! they’re so annoying i hate how i love them nevertheless,, thank you belladonna and take your time <3

enemies to lovers | kaeya alberich

pairings; kaeya x gn!reader

mentioned; jean

warnings; enemies to lovers but it’s pretty one sided, spoilers for kaeyas backstory, no beta we die like men, a lil bit of kaeya slander im sorry i had to, gn! reader

word count; 2k

a/n; where did kyquu go? :( i hope they at least see this.. i didnt finish childes part but i wanted to push this out as soon as possible. :(

kaeya

to put it simply, your relationship with kaeya was... tiring.

you had been close to kaeya and his younger brother for years, them being your closest and most trusted friends throughout part of your childhood and teenage years. but that all came to a halt when the former admitted to being a spy from khaenri'ah.

in no way or form did he expect for you two to forgive him— but actually seeing your broken and betrayed faces hurt him more than he thought it would, and the image still haunts him to this day.

you had separated yourself from the two brothers. although diluc didn’t do anything wrong, you didn’t want to pick between them ( even though you really should’ve ). that decision was too hard for you to make.

for years, you stayed out of touch with kaeya as he continued to climb the ranks within the knights of favonius, and you followed, much to your dismay. you worked hard to become a knight, and you weren’t going to quit just because of some bad blood between you and your superior. ( props to you for maturity )

he wanted nothing more than to reconnect with you, and maybe even diluc— but that was wishful thinking. diluc ragnvindr was a stubborn, hardheaded man, and getting past that exterior would be no simple feat.

so, he opted for ( not so ) subtly courting you— giving you the occasional wave whenever he saw you walking through mondstadt, offering to help you train ( although you declined every time ), and other small things. you question why he chose to do this now of all times, after half a decade of not speaking to each other.

you weren’t sure how to feel, but it made you agitated. not seething with rage, but it did annoy you to see his lazy grin whenever he walked into the angels share and saw you sitting in the corner of the room. it annoyed you whenever he did that stupid two finger salute before walking off, and archons, did it annoy you when he patted your shoulder after sparring as if you were the best of buds.

then why did your thoughts never stray from him?

that question, you couldn’t answer.

and so, you resorted to treating him like he didn’t exist. it was rude, but you couldn’t really think of anything else. avoiding him like the plague was the one thing you were good at.

as if things couldn’t get any worse, one of your worst nightmares came to fruition.

“jean, please. why can’t i do this mission with you? why... him?” you were basically at the acting grand masters feet, head in your hands and pleading up at the woman. she felt bad, but there was nothing she could do.

“i’m really sorry y/n. but i’m too busy with other things, and kaeya happens to be available. you know an ordinary knight wouldnt be able to take this mission,” her guilt worsened when you looked up at her with ( fake ) tears in your eyes. she kneeled to your height.

“i don’t know of your history with kaeya, but please, just put it aside for this one mission. it shouldn’t take you very long.”

jean helped you stand to your feet, the frown etched into her face growing deeper when she saw your shoulders slump. “alright, fine..i’ll try-”

“jean! have you seen y/n— ah, there they are,” kaeya waltzed in without so much as a knocking, making you jump in surprise and shoot a glare at him. he flashed you a lazy grin.

“speak of the devil..” you muttered.

“are you ready to go? we don’t have much time.” the mission you were assigned was to gain intel on what the fatui were planning. to get said intel, you had to sneak into a gathering held by the fatui. the dresscode was rather expensive— more expensive than anything you owned— so to help you out, kaeya took the liberty of purchasing an outfit for you.

kaeya dropped it into your arms. “change into this. don’t want to show up to a party wearing uniform, do you?”

“thanks...” your face felt warm from embarrassment, but you did have to admit, that was considerate of him.

he laughed and waved his hand, shaking his head. “let’s get going, yeah?”

—

you finished getting ready with the help of jean. she sent you one last apologetic gaze before walking you out the door, waving at you both.

kaeya didnt even hide the fact that he was checking you out. his eyes raked over your attire, before sticking his arm out for you to hold. “my, my, you look quite impressive, y/n. is everything suited to your tastes?”

you huffed and walked past him. “the corset is too tight, and the shoes are too small.” you were only half lying— the corset was a bit uncomfortable to move in, but he got your shoe size down to a T. how? you didn’t really want to know.

“if that’s the case, i can loosen it for you-”

“no.”

kaeya laughed it off, and you only grew more irritated. “come now, y/n. don’t be so stiff.”

“i am perfectly content with being stiff, thank you. now hurry up, i want to get this over with,” you muttered the last part.

you didn’t want to admit that you were struggling to take your eyes off of his attire. he was clad in a white suit with blue complimentary colors to match your own outfit.

you rolled your eyes. ‘of course he’d get us matching outfits.’

but, you didnt find yourself minding all too much.

—

the party looked like any other party— fatui agents littered all over the residence, along with guests in fancy clothing.

you tugged on your sleeve, feeling uncomfortable and out of place. but on the outside, yourself and kaeya blended in pretty well.

because kaeya was such a well known figure, he had to change up his looks a bit. no eyepatch, ( i know, so uncharacteristic ) and he used contacts to change his eye color to a darker shade.

he also put that disgusting rat tail away.

so he didn’t look completely different, but he looked different enough.

...the change was nice.

you couldnt help but feel watched though. but that was to be expected. even though you felt somewhat secure in this situation, anxiety rests for no one. it rested in the pit of your stomach dormantly, waiting for a moment to bloom.

looking around the ballroom, kaeya found people dancing in the middle. deciding that it was better to at least enjoy the party before leaving, he stood in front of you and held his hand out, bowing.

“may i have this dance?”

“who do you think i am-”

kaeya flashed you a cautious glance, head nodding towards a fatui agent who was keeping their eye on the two of you. holding back a sigh, you placed your hand in his. he grinned.

“thank you,” he said. you grunted quietly and held back a roll of your eyes as he dragged you to the middle of the dance floor.

“attention whore,” you muttered, feeling warmer as he placed his hand on your lower back and pulled you in closer.

“you wound me, y/n.”

“you deserve it. i wish i could slap you.”

he stayed quiet. maybe too far?

you shook your head. no. there was no way you we’re going to let yourself feel sorry for him when he was literally a spy.

but he feels honest enough.

sure, his intentions at first were.. questionable. but he’s changed for the better. kaeya has been in mondstadt for years now, and khaenri'ah fell ages ago. his love for mond shouldn’t be doubted for a second, even if he hides it quite well.

before you could look up and make sure your words didn’t hurt him too badly, he leaned down near your ear.

“we have to go.”

“what-”

“i’ll explain later, but we have to go,” he grabbed your hand and pulled you through the crowd.

you didn’t notice, but several of the fatui agents were watching you. you didnt change your looks as much as he did, opting to use simple touch-ups to make yourself more presentable. but it wasn’t enough.

“hey!” one of that agents shouted, and kaeya turned his head back to see how close they were. like he suspected, they were following gou. they pushed through the people, even going as far as knocking one man over, just to catch up.

you hurried your steps along with kaeya, almost sprinting to keep up with him. his grip on your hand was firm though. you two dashed up the stairs onto the third floor of the residence, where the bedrooms were. offices, libraries, bedrooms— they were all there. kaeya picked a random one and shoved you both inside.

it was a red themed bedroom, the lights dim with papers scattered along the desk on the other side of the room. “it seems we’ve gotten lucky,” kaeya joked, skimming over the papers. they were letters, between the fatui and some unknown source. kaeya stashed them in his jacket.

you didn’t understand how he could joke at a time like this. you still arent in the clear and you could hear rapid footsteps coming upstairs. “kaeya—!”

“you know how you said you wanted to slap me?” he said while tucking the last bit of papers into his suit. he didnt even give you a chance to answer. “you can, after this.”

you were confused, but when he backed you up against the wall and pressed his lips to yours, that confusion turned into anger, then more confusion, then understanding.

sighing when you finally caught on, he pulled your body closer to his and you wrapped your arms sround his shoulders. he tugged and nipped on your bottom lip, and if you didnt know any better your knees would be knocking. he was almost too good at this.

suddenly, an agent— a female one, this time— barged in. “have you— hey! take that shit elsewhere, lovebirds!”

kaeya hid your face in his chest, grinning lazily at the woman. his lips were swollen and his eyes were lidded. the woman blushed.

clearing her thoat, she held up a picture of you. well, moreso the back of your head. “have you seen this individual?”

he stared at the woman, then glaced down at you. “..sorry. i’ve been busy, i haven’t seen anyone of the sort. wish i could help,” he shrugged, and the ladies blush worsened. “o-of course..” she muttered, before closing the door and locking it.

kaeya snorted at the irony. he looked back at you, who was still touching your lips with your fingers.

“was i that good?” he chuckled, and caught your hand when you moved to slap him. his laughter died down and he looks oddly serious.

“y/n, we need to talk..”

“...no we dont,” you turned your back to him. he put his hand on your shoulder.

“yes,” he sighed. “we do. i know you didnt want to do this with me-”

“kaeya..”

“-and really, i understand. but i’ve changed, and i know you’ve noticed. i dont want you to hate me forever-”

“kaeya-”

“and you can’t-”

“kaeya!” you nearly yelled. he finally stopped talking over you. “i don’t want to talk about this right now. can you just drop it?”

“then when?” he narrowed his eyes. he laughed humorlessly when there was no reply.

kaeya’s eyes softened the longer you stayed silent. he gently grabbed your wrist and pulled you in for a hug. “...sorry.”

“could you please shut up,” you mumbled into his chest. he laughed softly.

“i know you’re wary right now. but all i ask for is a second chance,” he pulled away and hend your hands together in his. “...please.”

it was an odd sight, seeing him this vulnerable. then again, there was a good chance he was faking it to get on your good side but.. for some reason you found it hard to believe that. he looked truly sincere.

you groaned.

“you better not make me regret this.”

[yourwinchesterbros]

Firstly, you never fail to impress me with your mood-boards, I just love how you start each chapter with one, and its such a great way to help set the scene, I will NEVER get sick of seeing Jax in each title *drools* Secondly, Ohh hoo hoo, guess what everyone, I'm a hot fucking mess after this one! This chapter had me gritting, screaming, crying and squealing! Here we go!

"Two weeks had gone by, and you weren’t sure where you stood with Jax. He had offered Skeeter two weeks’ worth of pay so you could take some time off; something that you knew nothing about."

This has me feeling like an absolute spoiled princess! Jax, who ain't even my man yet, is watching out for me like this, I'm sweating already, eeeeeekkk!

"This was it; this was going to be your life. The Club. And you knew you had to tell Jax, let him know your decision in person. For some reason, it felt right."

The affirmation! God, it's got me feeling like a baddie, the fact that IIIII decided that IM in this for real, regardless of who may or may not like it. Me to Jax hehe

"Wendy, with her long beautiful blonde hair, wearing heeled boots and tight jeans. She looked like every man’s dream. In each hand she held one of Jax’s sons. Blonde hair and tanned skin, they were taking after their father. There was a pang in your chest. And a thought popped up in your mind – motherhood. It was an outlandish notion, but your mind had found its way there anyhow.  Could you be a stepmother? If … by any sort of chance, you and Jax got together. Would you be able to step into that role; as mother?"

Okay but yes to Wendy being every mans dream, cause she's an absolute babe but also, it HURT to read how she's so involved in his life watching HIS children. This hits so hard, because I've always struggled with the fear of becoming a mother, but I love this man so deeply, that I truly think I'd care for his babies. I'm in my FEELS.

"Your thoughts were ripped from your brain by a heartbreaking sight. Jax held Wendy close. It was an intimate embrace, and you knew about their history, but when he pulled back and kissed her cheek... It felt like a punch to the gut. Closeness to another woman shouldn’t affect you like this. He was... well, he was your boss! For god sake you weren’t supposed to be feeling like this."

NO BUT MY ACTUAL HEART. I'm both infuriated and crying, the way you described this was beautifully painful. The absolute knot in my stomach reading Jax kiss her cheek like she's deserving of it. Me watching them ⬇️

"But escaping was too late now, Gemma had been watching you from the office window and as soon as you made a move to leave, she called you over."

IM GASSSED I love that you added this detail, because HOW ACCURATE! If Gemma's watching anyone, it's out that window of hers!

"Abel laughed and his eyes lit up. He leaned from side to side and giggled whenever your eyes met.  “Great, now I think he’s falling for you,” Jax remarked as he looked down at his star-struck son. You didn’t even look up at Jax."

Everything about this, has me cheesing so fucking hard. I can't handle the cuteness of Abel, and JAX with the "star-struck" comment Omg I can HEAR him say that. I'm deceased.

"Jax’s hands were in his pockets, and when he looked at you, there was something like hope in his eyes. Moving a hand to rub behind his neck, he said “You wanna stay a while? I got some free time.”

AHHHHH! THIS! I am stamping my lil feet at how ADORABLE this is, UUGH! I can just picture him being ever so shy asking this! I can't get enough.

"Hey Tig, can you uh, look at my car for me?” With an enthusiastic nod, he realised too late that he had interrupted something serious. If you were a mind reader, you would hear, ‘Fuck you Tig, and fuck your big mouth, dumbass!’ But all you got was a lopsided grin and a man eager to get away from Jax. It was as if  Hades himself was sat on a child’s plastic chair, staring at both of you from afar."

I laughed at this, I love how Tig realizes, but then dismisses it cause he don't care haha. But JAAXX , Oh my word, I can just picture him trying to compose his "pissface" as Tig interrupted. The GLARE I can see it when he's watching us, loved that last line so much. You just know he's SO unimpressed. Yet it's so sexy

"He took a moment to process it. To know that his feelings weren’t unrequited. And somehow you were both standing now; he was looking in your eyes just as intently. The movement towards one another was easy, and when Jax extended his hand, you accepted it. You moved closer, and his lips were inches from touching your own. Inches away from feeling the physical contact of the Prince of Death.

You had me screaming, on the edge of my seat with this paragraph!! I could feel the tension! The fact that I could feel Jax's hand brush my hair, I'm so disgustingly immersed in this but I'm not sorry.

His other hand stroked the hair from your face, and he dropped his eyes to look at your lips. Heart racing, he shook his head and stepped back.  “I’ve lost too much; I don’t know if I can do that again.”

Well, grab me by the shoulders and deck me in the face because that's what this felt like! My heart shattered, not at the fact that he didn't kiss the reader, but at the fact that he's so scared to loose someone he cares about again. God, That last sentence KILLED ME you beautiful writer, you! I love how there's so much intensity and passion between the two, and yet they keep fighting it. It's just the best kind of read. I'm in love with this story, I can't WAIT to see what happens next eeekk!

𝑴𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝑫𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒓𝒆  

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄.

Paid story for @yourwinchesterbros. Word Count: 2k Warnings: swears

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ

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