#yes its windy outside can you tell

[antisocialgaycat]

me??? procrastinating by writing a really shitty story???? no fuckin way

@elemelom

I don’t know why I climbed the tree. More importantly, I don’t know how I’m going to get down. I’m quite high off the ground and the wind is really starting to pick up. I can see the sun setting over the horizon, and if I wasn’t so stressed right now, this would really be quite peaceful.

It’s been 15 minutes and I’m still sitting here. I’m not sure I’ll ever have the courage to climb down. The wind has matted my hair and my eyes are watering, but my hands are frozen to the branch I’m sitting on and I really don’t want to look down.

It’s been 16 minutes and I looked down and now I’m shaking, both out of fear and because the wind is getting stronger and stronger. What if I fall? I don’t have my phone up here, and even if I did I wouldn’t be able to call for help because I’m holding on to this branch like that’s somehow going to do anything. I wish I were able to do anything right now.

It’s been half an hour and it’s fully dark out now. The wind is stronger than ever and I think this tree might just blow over. At least I can’t see the ground anymore. That’s a win right?

It’s been 45 minutes and I’m so so tired. I would probably fall asleep right here if I wasn’t trying so hard to not get blown out of this goddamned tree. The only thing that’s keeping me going right now is the thought of going home and having the hottest shower of my life. This wind is going to be the death of me.

It’s been an hour and a half and I don’t want to be alive anymore. I can’t feel my face and I think my hands might be permanently frozen to this branch. My ass hurts from sitting for so long but I don’t dare move because what if I fall?

It’s been 2 hours and I really do hate being alone with my thoughts. There’s nothing worse, I think, than having nothing to do but think. It really plays tricks on your mind.

It’s been 3 hours and I’m just about ready to jump out of this tree. I don’t care if I die. You know how I said that having nothing to do but think plays tricks on your mind? Yeah I’m feeling that now. The wind is howling even louder but I swear I can hear the voices of people chanting which honestly scares me a little. I hope it’s just my mind playing tricks on me. Well, even if it weren’t it’s not like these people would find me, sitting half frozen at the top of a tree. Good lord I’m an idiot.

It’s been who knows how long and I know I’m not going to make it out of here alive. I think I’m crying, but I can’t feel my face so I’m not really sure. I don’t think I can move a single muscle and my mind is going to all kinds of places that it shouldn’t. There are much better things to be thinking about than your old best friend who ghosted you or how the person you like has a crush on your best friend. But you know, when you’re stuck in a tree and you can’t move you have to do something to keep yourself occupied.

It’s been far too long and maybe I could climb down. Maybe I could be like the hero of a story and get myself out of here. Maybe I was exaggerating earlier and I’m not even that far off the ground. Maybe I will see tomorrow. Unlikely, though.

At least the wind has stopped a little.

It’s been maybe 6 hours, maybe more and I don’t even know if I’m alive. The wind picked back up and the branch I’m on is swaying more than before. What if it breaks? I don’t want to die. It sounds so trivial but I’m scared. I really am. What if I don’t see another sunrise?

It’s been at least 8 hours and I’m so hungry. Why did I climb this tree? What was I even trying to achieve? If I get through tonight I’m never going near a tree again.

It’s been maybe 9 hours, maybe 10 and I’ve started counting out loud. I can’t hear the sound of my voice over the roaring of the wind in my ears, but at least I have something to do and I know that I’m alive for now.

I’ve counted up to 10 million and back now. I swear the wind keeps getting stronger. The tree I’m in is swaying in the wind and it’s creaking so loudly I can hear it. I think the chanting’s come back too, but it’s more of a whisper than it was last time. I’m losing it.

It’s getting lighter, I think. The wind is still as strong as ever, but at least I can see.

The sunrise is beautiful from up here. Almost as soon as the sun arrived, the wind stopped entirely. I can feel myself thawing out but I’m not quite ready to move yet.

I’ve been sitting in the sun for about half an hour when I feel the wind start again. Seriously? I think to myself, letting out a weary sigh.

Almost as quickly as it started, the wind stops. The branch creaks to my right and when I look over I see what looks like a teenage girl of about 16 sitting there, rapidly flickering in and out of sight. “Who are you?” I demand, but she only smiles in response, extending her hand out to me. Slowly I reach out to take it, and when I do, I feel the warmth practically radiating from her incorporeal body. I ask the question again, this time filled with curiosity, not anger, and she answers.

“I’m the wind. And I do apologise sincerely. I had a bad day yesterday and I took it out on you. Would you like to get down from here?” I nod, slightly stunned, but at this point I’ll believe anything. She shuts her eyes for a brief moment and just like that, I’m slowly drifting to the ground. Once my feet touch solid earth I collapse and lie there for a moment, taking in the feeling until I roll over onto my back and look up. I see Wind wave a small goodbye and then disappear. I don’t know why I climbed that tree. I don’t know how I survived. I don’t know what just happened, but I do know that I’m going to go home and eat some soup and have a hot shower then sleep until tomorrow. I don’t think I ever want to see a tree again.

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

You're Still The One ♥️

Coupled up Virgin Eddie and Virgin reader having their first times with each other, and - from both love and in defiance of the people who said they'd eventually get bored with each other - ending up married and/or with a couple of kids, and still as in love with each other and as horny for each other in their 40s/50s/60s/+ as they were in their late teens/early 20s?

Request by anon.

Also this request reminded me of the Shania Twain song-You're still the one so the lyrics are at the end of this fic 🥰

Mdni. 18+. A little bit of smut at the start, fluffy and sweet. Eddie and you being utter simps for each other.

♥️

Eddie's hand gently clasps yours, the two of you are nervous, entwined together and naked in more ways than one but there's so much love and trust, the eagerness to give each other everything.

He's gentle, so very gentle as he thrusts into you. Well as gentle as he can be and holds your hand whispering words of love as he moves in and out of you, only begins to move faster when you assure him you're okay.

The sharp pain you felt at the start dulls and in its place is an all-consuming need for Eddie, you're begging him to move faster and meet his lips in a clumsy but perfect kiss.

"You okay princess?" he strokes your cheek and you nod clenching around him, he lets out a guttural moan and his thrusts become harder, a little bit sloppy at first but he gets into the most perfect rhythm that has you seeing stars.

"You feel so good, so tight sweetheart, I can't believe you're mine"

The pleasure is like nothing you've ever felt before and you know Eddie feels that way too, moans issuing from the both of you as you both reach your climax.

You're giddy and on a high, so is Eddie and the two of you kiss, giggling and so in love with each other.

"That was fucking incredible princess" he sighs then he pauses his eyes flashing with anxiety, "Was it okay for you too?" You rest your forehead against his and smile, feeling like you're on cloud nine.

"It was perfect Eddie"

♥️

People warned you that the two of you wouldn't last.

"You'll never last, you'll grow bored and move on. You're young and being so head over heels in love doesn't last forever"

All of the naysayers were proven wrong, through utter love and defiance you and Eddie fell more in love with each other and that love lasted.

Eddie proposed one beautiful spring day, he had the ring for a long time while trying to think of the perfect time to propose. He had big ideas for doing it, maybe a campaign where at the end he would propose or he could take you to a fancy restaurant and propose to you there.

In the end, though the proposal came on that spring day while you and Eddie were enjoying some quiet time together after a busy week. It was windy and a little chilly, with blossom trees in full bloom (a sight you always loved) and Eddie tearful and struggling to get the words out.

You had pretty much screamed yes and nearly tackled him to the ground when you hugged him. He was grinning widely, all dimples and glee as he slipped the ring on your finger. It was perfect.

The two of you married in the autumn, with just Uncle Wayne, very close family and friends in attendance. It was outside, in the park you and Eddie loved so much, under pretty autumnal trees painted in golds, reds and rich browns.

It was one of the best days of your life and Eddie's too.

♥️

Adelaine was the first of you and Eddie's kids to arrive, from the minute you found out you were pregnant you and Eddie pored over every pregnancy book the two of you could find. He was extremely protective and completely enraptured with your growing bump, talking to the baby and telling the baby stories.

"I want to be the best dad sweetheart. Better than my old man ever was" he murmurs as you both look at lists of baby names. Gently you squeeze his hand and press soft kisses on his forehead.

"You're going to be the best daddy Eddie Munson, you're already the most amazing husband, I know our little one will be loved and so lucky to have you" he still looks anxious so you climb onto his lap and hold him close to you.

"Eddie you're nothing like your father. He was an asshole, cold and cruel. You're nothing like that, you're so full of love and gentleness, I love you so much and so will our little one. Any anxieties we have we get through together okay?" He nods his eyes brightening and a small smile on his lips that soon turns mischievous.

"Hey, how about the name Gandalf?" you snort and shake your head.

"Absolutely not" he pouts and wraps his arms around you, rests his hand on your bump and grins when he feels a kick.

"It would be so fucking metal babe, Gandalf Munson, we could be on to something. Popularise the name" You can't help but start giggling, Eddie pouts again but lets the name game drop for now.

Five months to that day Adelaine Maria Munson was born and Eddie was wrapped around her little finger which was adorable.

Samuel Munson followed and then Arwyn Munson, completing your little family.

Not to mention the many stray cats and dogs you adopted over the years as well. Ozzy, Sabbath, Midnight, Gandalf and a lot more.

Your house was always filled with love, laughter and a dozen pets, you could never resist a cute kitty or dog and Eddie could never say no to the combined forces of you and the girl's pouts.

"Sammy, they're doing the puppy eyes again dude, help your old man out" he would playfully joke to Samuel who was pretty much Eddie's mini me and idolised Eddie.

The first time Samuel and the girls begged Eddie to teach them about D&D, he almost cried. (He totally did) and rushed to make up a campaign for them.

Sundays were campaign day every week in your house after that and Friday nights were reserved for Eddie's epic bedtime story hour - Lord of the Rings was a hit in your household.

Not to mention he made up stories for the kids and dramatically acted out each one (with your assistance) you think Eddie enjoyed telling the stories even more than the kids.

❤️

You and Eddie being still so completely in love year after year made your kids whine that the two of you were "so gross" when you kissed or were particularly touchy-feely, Eddie always over dramatically kissed you even more just to make them laugh.

All these decades later and the two of you were more in love than ever and despite what everyone said the two of you did last.

Soulmates until the end.

♥️

Looks like we made it. Look how far we've come, my baby, We mighta took the long way.

We knew we'd get there someday

They said, "I bet they'll never make it" But just look at us holding on. We're still together, still going strong.

Mm (you're still the one) You're still the one I run to, The one that I belong to. You're still the one I want for life (You're still the one), You're still the one that I love.

The only one I dream of, You're still the one I kiss goodnight.

Shania Twain- You're still the one

[bellrocsgf]

Bellroc x GN! Reader

Disclaimers: I am using all he/she/they pronouns for Bellroc and just referring to them as all genders as to my knowledge they are androgynous, pls excuse me if I'm wrong about that

Congratulations, you successfully obtained a flamethrower girlfriend that hates all of humanity. How? good question, onto the head cannons :)

They always have a reason to be right next to you, it's a windy day in the Flying Fortress of the arcane order? what if you get blown away and fall and they need to catch you? You should just stay near him today. Skraels in the room? Youll get too cold! You need to stay next to me just incase (yes Bellrocs presence alone is warmth, they are your personal campfire). You have chores to do around the fortress? What if you get lost? it is giant, he will have Skrael take over watch today so Bellroc can accompany you. "Just admit you wanna spend time with me" "don't imply such nonsense, you are a mere mortal. Should danger arise, You need me to protect you" You get the gist, they aren't paranoid and needs your presence to relax them no no.. You're the one that needs them constantly 100%

He will never admit he is somewhat clingy and if you even dare insinuate that you will get a 2 hour lecture on why you're incorrect in ancient fancy Shakespeare sorcerer language, the "thou"s and "thine"s come out when they get defensive (I'm messing, they get flustered af when they get called out accurately but mask it like hell)

She is definitely the more dominant side of the relationship, if that wasn't obvious. She believes you are like glass and they are very protective of you, they won't outright say they worry for you. Nono you fool thinking they would admit that, they'll make up reasons you can't do certain things and why they have to always accompany you even in the fortress, you have a very hard time getting to touch grass and on the lucky occasion you're out alone, they're just stalking you from afar. They do understand your need for freedom and time to yourself... somewhat.. which is why you're allowed to leave at all, she doesn't necessarily want to upset you so best case scenario, you will never find out whenever you go outside they use spells or even just stalk you themselves 24/7. just to make sure you're safe.. and you come back

cough cough moving on

they will get offended if you ever use a lighter or any other means for a heat source

yes I'm fr, they won't admit it though because he would feel weak to care about that

Bellroc's love language is quality time 100% however they believe human affection is.. stupid. Stuff like cuddling, pda, kissing yeah no and they will say that very confidently. However they wouldn't necessarily stop you if you decided to hug them, they would be confused as to be honest, Nari is the only one that's ever hugged them in their billions of years of existence, also Skrael but that's like a once in a millennium thing and neither of them will ever admit it (they both feel its a weak thing and also they don't like to admit they do have genuine care for each other). If you hug them they will probably just very awkwardly put an arm around you and if you're lucky, they will sit on their knees so you can properly reach them (reminding you they are 6'8... AHH-)

They are willing to stay in your room with you at night or just have you in their own chambers even though they rarely need sleep but if you think they're cuddling you oh nuhuh they are literally just standing at your door staring at you all night. However, if you nag enough and pull the "its so cold" card they might just give you one night, but you are NEVER TO TELL THE OTHERS

Bellroc doesn't in the slightest want to seem soft for you even if they are. They do actually have a slight aversion to touch, it got a lot worse after they were blinded (I head cannon its a spell that allows them to use the pauldrons as eyes and it can get tiring so most of the time they like to just chill out when they can) because of course, now they don't always know somethings gonna touch them before it does. However, there's a minor exception for you

Im tired, pls bring this fandom to life and give me more bellroc

fin.

[ladystarksneedle]

The night is dark yet full of warmth

A/N: For @hotd-bigbang

Prompt: December 11th - Blizzard | Blankets | Berries

Helaena's pov

Summary: The children cuddle up on a windy night to a warm tale of the North.

Word count: 500

Dividers by @saradika

“Muña tell us the story of the snowy castle up north”

Their twins pulled at her skirts before she gathered them up in her arms walking towards the bed as she saw Aegon cradling Maelor. The maids helped in tucking them all in before leaving to light some of the snuffed out candles nearby. They cuddled together before he joined them at the foot of their bed with their son cooing in his arms. It was a cold night with the shutters pulled tight and the glow of the hearth bathing their chambers in its warmth. She'd recited the tale of the Good Queen countless times yet as they gazed up at her with their inquisitive eyes, pleading silently, she could hardly resist the words that spilled from her lips. Her husband chuckled as he listened enraptured. He'd told her he loved her voice one night, when it was too cold to venture out. They'd been wrapped in their blankets, huddled together as he gazed at her. “Perhaps we should do this more often” he'd said

“Lie together? Mother would certainly agree”

He had chuckled then before pulling her closer. “You have a nice voice Hel. I like hearing you talk”

She wove tales of an icy blizzard surrounding the mighty Silverwing as she descended upon Winterfell aweing commoner and lord alike and how the witty queen had thawed the stoic lord of the manor with her charm.

“What about the berries?” Jaehaera chirped excitedly. She laughed in response as her little girl pouted impatiently.

“Yes, how can you forget the berries, Helaena. That is quite inconsiderate of you is it not byka jorrāelagon” Aegon responded earning him a rapid nod from her little head. (Little love)

She shook her head before pulling them both closer as she continued.

“The Good Queen had managed to charm Lord Stark with her wit and beauty, however it was a handful of berries that endeared him to her at last. Red as the roses of the King’s gardens, those little treats were secretly favored by the grumpy lord who was still wary of dragons. Imagine his astonishment when he found a mighty beast like Silverwing enjoyed them just as well. Upon learning of his fondness the queen had offered them to her in front of him, juggling them in her palms before feeding them to her with each catch as he watched in awe. A mummer’s trick that had excited all alike finally proved to be a valuable collection in her arsenal”

The twins clapped as she finished her tale grinning with delight.

“Remember my loves, to always be kind and to listen carefully above all. You never know when a trick up your sleeve can come in handy” she finished before winking at Aegon who looked away in embarrassment.

The wind around them howled outside agreeably, rattling the window panes as they relished in the warmth of the little anecdote of ice and fire.

Taglist: @witheredoffherwitch @arcielee @barbieaemond @chompchompluke @watercolorskyy @paprikaquinn

[waltwhitmansbeard]

Hewo. I bring you an old prompt from an old list:

25. "Leave the light on." May I ask for Vilya and young Kiki? Thank you <3

25. "Leave the light on."

We control the winds, her mom always tells her, their ebbs and flows, their strength, their direction. It is our gift and our responsibility. The Air Ashari control the winds, and yet the eerie whistle through the bare cherry trees at night still keeps Keyleth awake, cowering beneath her blanket. She can't stop herself from imagining all sorts of monsters just outside her window, waiting to pounce.

"It's just the wind," she whispers to herself, the blanket pulled all the way up to her chin. "We control the winds."

Something knocks against her window, the glass shuddering in its panes, and Keyleth lets out a sharp yelp. Just a few moments later, her bedroom door creaks open, and, illuminated by a single candle, her mom's face appears. "Little bird? Are you okay?"

And even though it such a baby thing to do, she sniffles, rubbing her nose with the back of her hand. "There was a noise."

Her mom slips inside, crosses to perch on the edge of Keyleth's bed. Keyleth instinctively curls in closer. "It is especially windy tonight. We're probably going to get a snowstorm in the morning." She brushes Keyleth's hair back from her face. "Is the wind scaring you, little bird?"

Now that her mom is here and the candle casts a warm glow over her bedroom, the wind outside seems less terrifying. "Kinda. I guess."

"Well, it's a good thing I hadn't gone to bed yet. Scoot over." Keyleth does, wriggling closer to the wall as her mom carefully sets the candle down on her bedside table. Then she climbs under the covers with Keyleth, who eagerly cuddles into her side. As soon as her mom starts combing her fingers through the hair down Keyleth's back, her eyes start to droop, instantly heavy.

"You know, it's okay to be scared," her mom whispers. Keyleth can barely hear her over the wind outside. "I get scared all the time."

"You do?" Keyleth asks, awed.

"Mhm. I'm scared about the future of Zephrah. I'm scared of something bad happening to you." She taps Keyleth's nose, and Keyleth giggles. "And...can you keep a secret?" Keyleth nods furiously. "I'm scared of the ocean."

Keyleth's eyelids, no longer heavily, spring open wide. "Really?"

"Really. You know the trip I have coming up in the spring? My Aramenté?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm going to have to visit our sister village, Vesrah, and they're located in the ocean."

"Whoa."

"Yeah. Kinda nervous about it, to be honest."

"It'll be fine," Keyleth says confidently, snuggling onto her mom's shoulder. "You're the bravest person I know."

Her mom laughs, and the sound reminds Keyleth of summer days in the sun. "I sure hope so." She kisses Keyleth's forehead. "Think you can fall asleep now?"

"Yeah." One more kiss to Keyleth's forehead, and her mom slips back out from the covers. She tucks them close around Keyleth's chin before leaning down to blow out the candle.

Before she does, though, Keyleth says quietly, "Mama?"

"Yes, little bird?"

"Can you leave the light on?"

And then her mom smiles the smile she only ever smiles at Keyleth. "Of course I can." She heads for the door, and the last thing Keyleth hears before she falls asleep is a soft, "Sleep well, little bird."

[elgringo300]

elgringo300/755365694868209664

Nature is healing, sunrise, cool dice (how was the boat trip?)

My toxic trait is I think my boy scout training would be sufficient in a societal collapse, which, to the other side of my brain, tells me I would die immediately in an apocalyptic situation. But yes, lets go hiking! (and thank you for calling me kind soul!)

I used to be a really good morning person! Back in like middle and early high school. Now I'm a night owl, I don't know what happened. I moved to a new high school and my body's circadian rhythm just flipped. man I am trying so hard to do everything right. and yet the horrors. Indeed. Water is great - I am a frequent bathroom enjoyer in college

Nerds rule the world! I have some pretty cool red socks so thank you. Boat trip was fun and awesome and I have a really cool tanline where my watch is. If you've seen the recent post I made about dealing with people (everyone is trying to be a good person etc) I wrote that based on my experience with the other people in the boat.

There were a couple people in the same watch as me who would consistently shit-talk the skipper of our boat. Some of their complaints were valid, but I think they read way too deep into those and were looking for things to complain about. I listened to them and tried to see where they were coming from, and tbh I could! But if they had tried to see things from a more forgiving and adapting attitude, they would've had a far greater time, and the skipper really didn't deserve all that. I think he was trying his best, for a fairly old dude.

The one fair complaint I truly agreed with the others about was when the skipper decided to dump our waste inside an area you're legally Not Supposed to Do That, which... as a guy at a military college I understand both sides of This Rule Is Stupid So I've Elected to Ignore It as well as Follow The Rules Because You Haven't Thought Of Everything You Idiot so. I'm on side Follow The Rules but I get it.

The sailing was fun too! Its louder inside the sailboat than outside of it because the ropes bang against the hull and you can really hear that. It sounds so incredibly loud inside if its windy outside because every rope flying around sounds like a gunshot or like something metal snapped, and then you go up and "well its windy but the ropes sound normal". We got a little unlucky because there was just very little wind most of the way up and back down, to the point where we used our motor more than half of the way to stay on schedule. Most of the time the biggest problem was how sweaty I got when trying to fall asleep (which was very - boat can get pretty stuffy inside).

At one time though the wind was so strong we were at a 20-30 degree angle constantly - and that was with a reef taken in the main (that means we lowered the mainsail a little bit so that it was smaller and would catch less wind - you can take 2 reefs in the main at most). It took actual skill and positioning to get dressed for my watch because you could not rely on the floor to not throw you against the wall as you were taking off your shirt. And when we tacked (meaning we turned so the wind was coming at us from the other side) it was so violent! We had to secure everything to make sure it wouldn't fly off the counters when we turned. Its hard to explain but whenever you tack and especially when you gibe, when the wind passes the midpoint and catches the sail it can really just seize the boat and what was a nice measured turn suddenly turns into a loud, hard spin. At least thats what it feels like. Whenever you tack or gybe thats a minimum of 90 degrees change of course.

I think thats long enough of a post for now, but thanks for asking! If you want more sailing trivia just let me know - I learned so much in such a short span of time I can probably pull bits and pieces out of my brain for days.

Thanks for the ask!

[awaffledreamer]

Dog Sitting mystery

“Netflix and Chill with a guy would be the best thing ever”

Really Janet?  Really?  Well, then you have never watched a scary movie with a dog barking at his own shadow…the exact moment the killer is standing beyond the victim!!!!  And why is the victim always blonde?  What is up with that?

Helen couldn’t believe that she was dumb enough to wait till it was completely dark out when she decided to watch the movie Scream for the very first time.  And with a dog that barks at his own shadow!  Every time the bad guy comes around the corner, bark bark bark!!!  Talk about your jumpscares!  

“Ketch! Good boy, good boy.  It’s alright.  It’s alright, it’s just your shadow,” soothed Helen.  At least I hope it’s just your shadow and not the killer.

Usually a good soothing talk can calm Ketch down but for some reason that night Helen was having trouble keeping Ketch down.  It’s not like they haven’t done this before, or that Helen is new to Ketch.  Ketched loved her.  Adored her.  Hated it whenever Helen left.

Ketch is a Black/White Husky / Pitbull mix.  At first Helen was a little apprehended about Ketch because of the pitbull media news, but as soon as Ketch lept on Helen’s lap and fell right asleep, it was love.  Ketch’s owner is usually away on business a lot so Helen gets to see Ketch and work with him a lot.

See, Helen is a dog sitter.  She loves going to people’s houses and help them out with their animals, no matter what the animal is.  She has watched snakes, gerbils, parrots, pigs, ducks, horses and your regular dogs and cats.  And it doesn’t matter how many you have, Helen is always up for the task.  

It’s a fun job.  It’s an interesting job.  

But at 32 years of age?

Yes.

Yes it still is.

Now granted, Helen does have a full time job as well as dog-sitting, doing computer tech work, but watching an animal at someone else’s house and getting paid for it?  Priceless!

So Helen was use to Ketch’s antics but for some reason this night, he was stepping it up a bit.  Either Ketch got into the catnip again; or its because Helen was using him as a animal shield for the scary bits of the movie; or and this was a scary thought…there was actually something out there.

It’s gotta be a squirrel.  Totally a rabbit.  Maybe a flock of turkeys are going by. Nothing bad is out there.  You good, girl.  You good.  Helen was trying her best to keep it cool and try and soothe Ketch down, thinking it was nothing.

After about 5 more minutes of him scratching and barking he was finally able to settle down enough to move by Helen’s feet by the couch.  Not fully getting up on the couch but sitting in the protective stanch Helen taught him when he was a pup.  Helen let it go.  At least he is done barking.

Matthew Lillard just quoted “I’ll be right back” as he is getting the beer when the tension in the room just escalated.  Ketch was finally lying down dozing off when he shot right up in the protective stance again at Helen’s leg.  Helen was noticing Ketch’s ears twitching back and forth.  Helen has been dog-sitting going on 15 years…she picked up a thing or two about learning how to read your animal.  She knew something was up as well.  Pausing her movie, Helen slowly gets up from the couch and slowly walks towards the window.  It is a windy night.  Even though Helen is inside the house she could tell how cold it was outside.  Wind picking up more of the cold air coming from Lake Michigan.  Not really seeing anything with her eyes, she pressed her ear up against the window.  Unsure what she was trying to hear for, it just seemed to be the right thing to do.

Nothing but the wind.  I’m getting tired and the movie is almost over.

“I’m not hearing anything bub.  Let’s finish the movie and get ready for bed,” she looks longing at Ketch, hoping he understands her.

As she makes her way to the couch and just when she is about to unfreeze Matthew Lillard, that’s when they both heard it.

The one sound, on a cold October night, you do not want to hear.

The one sound, that makes the hair stand on end.

The one sound, that you know, you will not get your animal to be quiet about.

Sirens.

Maybe not my street.  Maybe not around here.  Helen prays.

More sirens.

Cop car drives by, causing ketch to leap up towards the window and give the howl all dogs do when they hear the sirens.

“It’s alright Ketch.  Looks like it was just the one cop car.  Maybe Mrs. Stevens locked herself out of her house again.  We should be o…”  Helen wasn’t able to finish her sentence as more cop cars start racing by her window.  This time it was county.

“Oh no,” whispered Helen.  Her days as volunteering at the County Court House with her Mom, she got to hear a lot of details from the cops.  When the County cops get involved you know something is up.  It will get managed just fine though.  No problems, no worries.  It’s when the State cops show up is when you want to start worrying.

“Please no state, please no state,” prayed Helen.

All quiet on the western front.

Until a flash of blue raced by with the lights on and the sirens blaring.

“Oh no.  State boys are here too.  This is bad Ketch.  This is really bad.  What did you see out there?” exclaimed Helen.

20 minutes later when the ambulance showed up with an unmarked car riding behind it, Helen knew it was the medical examiner and knew her night was just about to get more interesting than finding out that hotties Matthew Lillard and Skeet Ulrich were psychos.

After reading this, would you want to read more Or would you have already closed the book? Curious

[aestheticvoyage2023]

Day 84: Saturday March 25, 2023 - “Hi-king Boots”

This post contributed by Audrie after a pretty sunset hike in her old backyard, Saguaro National Park, with our boy in his Hiking Boots. What’s even better?  This was the first time in almost 9 years Audrie ever said “I want to make today’s post” -  Yes Ma’am!!

It was a sunny Saturday, after a cold-spelled-sonoran-springtime week in the Old Pueblo. And with a rare weekend spent at home, all together as a family, William and I lingered in our afternoon, out on the patio, skin drinking in those solar rays, as my son-shinned before me; in his whizzing and whirling around the yard with his dogs, and dace moves, and his dazzling wonderment in his world, warming my heart from the inside out.  As a parent, you can never have enough of these moments, watching the child you created in total awe.  The innocence, the joy, the candidness in all they do — A tiny human that we grew and is now growing into his own life and ways and wildness— Like a small off stream fed by a mighty river. We were between belly laughs and refereeing the doggie-bit-face-games, when my bright-eyed-dusty-blond-smiling-child sauntered over requesting “diaper off.” I complied, naked potty training time is more safe outside anyway, where the hose is handy, and we can talk about where the dogs potty, and where he should, ultimately someday hopefully soon, potty do his potty business in his potty. With a shirt on his shoulders and nothing from the waist down, he continued his play, in and out of the plastic ice-cream-truck he’s put about 10k foot-miles on (all be it mostly in reverse) over the last few weeks since it joined our most favorite toy line up here at home.  Apparently still unsatisfied with the level of nakedness, he jogged back over to me and said “shirt off” and tugged at his shirt.  “You wanna be a totally nakey-baby buddy?” and very assuredly he nodded in affirmation and said “Yeshh!”  So then there he was stark naked, looking like he was getting away with something big, having apparently even more fun than ever climbing in and out of his ‘Ich Ceam Guckk’ and periodically turning around to snack on his plate of berries and pretzels he had placed on the rear of it.  When he tired of this he was ready to up the nakkey-anty-antics, and he shuffled back over and said “bubbles bubbles!” while pointing over to his bubble making machine.  “You want bubbles to go now?” “Yeshh!” And as I filled the battery powered bubble producer, he started to spin his gears some more and decided he needed to also be hoisted into his blue porch swing, so he could swing through the bubbles…. naked. This kid.  So this is what we did for the next 30 minutes.  Until he wanted down and “uh ohhh…..” points at puddle on the patio, “pee pee potty” yeah, oops, mom missed that one, “Its okay buddy, lets wash it off and clean you up.”  

We played like this until both my shoulders and all of William’s cheeks were a little more than rosy and reluctantly we went inside and put his clothes back on, where we read books together on the couch until daddy came home from errands and it was time to get ready for a family sunset hike. Dad put on his hiking boots, and William couldn’t help but look enamored, “Boots!” “Yep! Those are Daddy’s Hiking Boots!” and the longing envious look on William’s face sparked the memory of a tiny pair of hiking boots that have sat on the nursery dresser for more than two years… The ones I secretly had a friend purchase when the first pregnancy tests came back with two lines, way back in September of 2020. The smallest pair I could find would be 5 sizes too big for him by the time he was born, but served the trick to surprise and tell my partner that our hiking duo would be a trio soon.  And with a drive up the mountain, and some sage, and one of the expensive digital readout pee-sticks, and these tiny boots, up there on that windy point we were able to celebrate with smudging smoke the welcoming intentions we were beginning to hold for this speckle of cells growing inside my belly.  Setting our minds around this conception and pulling towards us the coming reality of parenthood, and the definitive divineness of the budding and bloom of life.  I had no idea then, that days would look like this now… Plastic Ish Ceam Guchs, and bubbles, naked baby booty scooting and scorching all over my patio; I couldn’t have known the person that was doubling by the moment inside my body, the globule of cells that was unfolding, would eventually unfold to become this sun-shiny-sweet-son-of mine.     

I asked William if he would like to wear some hiking boots just like daddy.  Of course his answer was a big “Yeshhh!”  And soon enough I was finagling his feet into these tiny yellow lace up boots.  Although they appeared as they should, I’m not totally confident I ever got his heels completely down into the shoe pad, and he probably had a gap on at least one of them the entire hike even after adjusting them twice.  But he wouldn’t have let on, he wore those boots so big and proud “HI-KING-Booots!!!” with a dimple to dimple grin.  There would have been no way to know the child that would wear these boots, but if I could have dream-designed him/her, I don’t know that I ever could have come up with the perfection and wildness and wondrous son that stomped proudly up and down the trail today; a trail that lay under a smiling crescent moon, in a sunsetty southwestern sky, surrounded by the outstretched arms of a million saguaros, and the peaks of the same four mountain ranges that raised me.  Jake and I take pause a lot to just ooh and awe over his total beauty.  Our beautiful boy. Our Boo-Boo.  And in moments like these it leads me back to that mountain top day, and all the days since, that were intended and asked for him, in our prayers to the universe, in the sage we’ve burned, in the counts of the heartbeat heard on his sonograms, in the deep first gazes into his gray-blue-baby eyes, in the late afternoons when he sunk into sleep latched to my breast, in the night hours spent reaching out to feel his breath; asking for a kind soul, a loving heart, and someone that wouldn’t play small in this big world.  We still don’t fully understand who and how and what all William will be.  But for now, as this little stream continues to grow, pick up speed, and pull further from the river, we enjoy these awesome moments spent sharing his splendor.  For I know the stream does not exist without the river, but eventually the stream steams far enough ahead and away from the mighty-mother-river that to an onlooker the waters appear different; separate. So I will continue to pour the best of what I have into him, while I still can and while he still remembers he is connected back to me.  And all this journey into motherhood reminds me to take pause, and remember my own headwaters, my mother river, and all the mothers and grandmothers before them that poured out their heartiness into those tiny streams that became roaring rivers that fed me, and now feed my son, in his very own hiking boots.       

Song: Eric Hutchinson - Everybody’s Gotta Beating Heart

Quote: “I would love to live like a river flows, carried by the surprise of its own unfolding.” - John O'Donohue

[sanjanavij]

Tips and Tricks to Take Care of Your Electric Cycle

Are you wondering how to maintain an e-cycle? If yes, this guide will tell you some effective tips to take care of it effectively and ensure smooth operation for years. Maintaining an e-cycle is not challenging; all you need to know is the right techniques. Using the following techniques, you can keep the bike new for years and ensure optimum performance every time you use it.

3 Tips to Maintain Your Electric Bicycle

Let’s look into three effective tips for e-cycle maintenance.

Increase the Battery Range

Everybody wants their e-cycle to run long distances before they start draining. If you want the same, you can increase the battery range by charging the battery whenever possible during the ride in a nearby outlet. Also, keep the charge in eco mode to increase the battery life. Furthermore, avoid going for a ride when it is windy outside as the e-bike has to provide more power to tackle the wind and move ahead, thereby losing its energy.

Read More at (Original Source): digitalmediainc.org

[iicheeze]

Cats (=^ェ^=) Pt. 1

summary: In which, you decided to adopt a cat, alone in a box on a windy yet cold night. Taking care of it, just as a normal master would do. What's not normal, however, is a beautiful, handsome man in your apartment instead of your cat!?!

Characters: Diluc, Kaeya, Zhongli, Childe X Gender Neutral Reader (Separated).

pt. 2 / Cats (=^ェ^=) Masterlist

Diluc

You were just cooking for your dinner, as the rain wept outside, fog appearing at your apartment's window. Not long after, your cat, Diluc, came to you. Purring his way to your leg, seeming to beg for food. Looks like he smelled the food.

“ Awh, I know you're hungry, 'Luc. But I'm cooking right now! Just wait for a little longer, okay? Go play with your toy at the couch. ” You chuckled, yet he didn't comply. Still surrounding your legs with its dark red fur, tickling you in the process.

“ Alright, alright.. I'm coming, ‘Luc. Just wait for 1 minute, okay? ” You finally gave in to the cat's temptation. With a loud yet sweet purr coming from the cat.

Time passed, yet the rain doesn't seem to stop any time soon. Though, you and Diluc were already finished with dinner. Each stomach full to its content.

Bellies full with delicious delicacy, you began to yawn. Whilst, Diluc seemed to be calm and content, as usual. “ Alright, I'm gonna go to bed. You gonna come with me? ” You sat up, going to your bedroom. With the male cat following you, guess that's a yes.

You then took off your shirt, wanting to change to a more comfortable one. With Diluc facing the wall, as usual. What a gentleman, no, gentle-cat.

Soon, you got on the comfortable, soft bed. Not forgetting to invite your beloved cat by opening your blanket, with Diluc then jumping to it before finally getting to a comfortable position.

It was supposed to be just like any other night. You and him sleeping together, as the rain wept from the dark, cloudy sky.

So why the heck are you woken up to a hot, attractive man?! And.. Is he naked?!?!

Kaeya

“ Kaeya!! I'm home! ” You yelled with a hoarse, tired voice. It's now 11 PM, way later than you expected to come home. Of course your boss had to get you to work overtime solely because one employee called in that their sick.

Your cat then meowed, crawling his way to you. You can tell he's tired and hungry. Yet he still made his way to you. Poor him.

“ Oh gosh.. I'm so sorry, Kaeya. My boss made me work overtime. Here, I'll feed you- woah. ” Before you could even finish your sentence, a bag of cat food was ripped open and a little mess near his food bowl was in front of you. Did he feed himself?-

Turning to your cat, he was basically clinging onto your leg. Looks like he's just attention-deprived after all. “ Geez, you.. You're some cat, huh? ” You sweat dropped. Carrying your cat with both your hands, causing his body to seemingly stretch.

“ Meow. ” “ Yes, yes, Kaeya. You did a good job. ” “ Meow! ” “ Okay, I'm also sorry for not telling you that I had to work overtime.. ” Kaeya then fell silent, before rubbing his soft fur to your cheek. Seems like he forgave you. What a cat.

“ Now how about I give you a little kiss so that you'll forgive me even more, huh? ” You teased, before kissing his little mouth.

But.. Why did it suddenly feel so human?

“ My, my. And here I thought you'd be too tired to play with me. ”

... Who said that?

Opening your eyes, you saw a shirtless- no.. Naked man making contact with your lips. Is that.. Scars at his body?! Wait a moment. HE'S NAKED!!!

Zhongli

Zhongli has always been a cat that minds his own business. Unless you start playing with him, and by playing you mean rubbing your cheek against his. He never really played with any of the toys you bought for him, only playing with your discarded books.

In fact, is he even interested in toys? He only seemed to be interested in catching up what's happening in the world, or hearing about your day or more. Well, at least he's a good listener.

He tries to be independent. Keyword: Tries. Often times he'd try to feed for himself from the cat food bag, but ended up ripping it apart. Oh well, he is a cat. Nothing you can do but laugh.

Though, you catched up to the news that it's mating season. Knowing fully well your cat might hump your leg for a bit. You don't mind, as long as he doesn't scratch you.

You're now getting out of the shower, water trickling down your hair strands. As you finally cover yourself with your towel, you got out of the bathroom, fog coming out as well.

“ Geez, look's like I used too much hot water. ” You then chuckled as you then opened the bedroom door, expecting your lovely, furry black cat with orange tips at the end of his tail.

What you did see though, isn't what you expected.

“ Oh? You finished showering faster than usual today, Master. ”

Instead, you saw a glorious, naked man with long, dark brown hair with bright orange tips at the end of his hair. And... Why is there saliva at his penis- WAS HE LICKING HIMSELF?!-

Childe

You adopted yourself a very, very handful cat.

Often times, your cat would run away to fight with other cats, sometimes dogs as well. Your neighbor's dogs. Which causes a lot of trouble and tons of apologies sometimes. Though, at least Childe always won. Still, it's no excuse to get into fights just because of his bloodlust.

Because of his fights, he'd always, always, comes out with blood and scratches all over his body, leaving permanent scars at his skin. At this point, the vet down the street would even have a nickname for you AND your cat. Not a very proud one as well.

Other times though, the wounds don't end up that bad. Causing you to patch him up yourself. He likes that better than going to the vet, somehow. Because if his wounds haven't healed yet, he will refuse to take off that bandage. And if it did, he'd play with it, even though it has dried blood on it.

One thing you noticed about him, is that he likes to bring.. gifts to you. Whether it be dead rats, dead birds, heck, even a live bat sometimes!! You pity those animals, so you just buried them peacefully. Much to Childe's liking. At least he gets pats and cuddles from it though, still a win-win.

Now, you're just peacefully doing your work while the ginger cat is loafing at the end of your bed. Noticing that it's almost 10 PM and you still have no signs of stopping your work, he jumped to your lap before meowing at your face.

“ Meow!! ” “ I know, I know, Childe. Go back to bed, I'll finish this soon. ” Obviously that's a lie, you always say that everytime the project isn't gonna finish in 2 hours or more.

Childe, knowing that, is now going to use the ultimate tactic, the “ Rub-Master's-Face-Until-They-Give-In ”!!

His furry cheek then collided with yours, as purrs came out of his mouth. “ Awh.. Fine, fine. I'm coming to bed, I'll just turn off the lights at the living room, okay? ” You gave in, as always. You were always weak to that attack.

You didn't even take 2 minutes to turn off the living room's lights, with your cat waiting for you at the bed before you left the room.

SO WHY THE HECK IS THERE A HANDSOME, SCARRED GINGER WHO'S POSING LIKE “ Draw me like one of your french girls ” AT YOUR BED, COMPLETELY NAKED.

“ Come on, Master! Get in the blanket and sleep together, like always! ”

You didn't get paid enough for this.

Next part includes; Ayato, Thoma, Al-haitham, and Dainsleif. If you have any more characters in mind, don't be afraid to ask! I'm planning to make more parts with this concept anyways.

[jtrokujo]

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐇𝐘 𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐎𝐗𝐈𝐂¿

paring: Mikaela Hyakuya x fem!Reader

(they’re 18+!!!)

word count: 4k

warning: this story contains sexual content

gerne: smut

summary: there are days when they get along well but there were also days when they hated each other like the plague and even though they love each other?

—

The weather is neutral, but I wish it got better.

The sun is obscured by the gray clouds, but it's not windy or anything.

You could even go out with a top.

However, y / n decided to take a seat in the four walls with a number of different books and a tall pile of books right next to them.

As she gently leafed through the pages of the somewhat older book, she felt a stab.

Of course it didn't hurt since no one was attacking her, but it felt like someone was watching her.

Without presenting her feelings, she took some books and put the rest where she got them.

Immediately after leaving the library, she stopped in the middle of the path and said with an annoyed sigh, "Bathory, I know you're here."

He stands grinning in front of y / n, but could hardly show a disappointed face.

With his head tilted to one side, he looked at his prey and smiled at her immediately. "I prefer you to call me by my first name, dear."

“I do what I want and not what you want, Bathory. Besides, I have better things to do than waste my precious time being influenced by you. "

When they told the vampire, she continued on her way, or at least intended to.

As quickly as he came, he grabbed her arm just as quickly. "But y / n, why is it in such a hurry?" asked the vampire, amused, pressing more and more on hers with every second, so slowly you could hear her bones. Y / n had to react immediately!

Without thinking for a second, she dropped all of the books on the white floor and immediately grabbed her gun. "You should let go of me!" y / n's voice rang out down the hall and immediately shot the vampire in the arm.

His blood spurted around her.

Y / n got his blood on her face as well as on her clothes - it was the same with Bathory, also the wall and especially the floor got his blood.

"Disgusting." mumbled y / n and wiped the blood on her face, although she knew herself that it would be of no use.

"What's going on here?" Everyone but not him.

"Hello Mika!" said Ferid with delight and turned to get a better look at him.

"Have you lost your nerve again?" he asked me annoyed, but he only looked at me for a few seconds and immediately saw Ferid's blood spatter.

"What do you mean 'again'?"

Even if we've known each other for a long time, we both have to admit that one and the other have diverged. Sometimes it was his fault, sometimes it was me. There were of course moments when we got along really well, but in the end they weren't enough in my opinion.

"Since you've lived with us, at least one vampire must have got something from your weapon."

Said the blond-haired vampire while his eyes stared at me.

I'm not understating when I say that his eyes alone make me feel naked.

Mika only manages to control me through his eyes, even though I should be the one who should control every vampire or the various books I spend most of my time on just one more bad joke.

It was enough for vampires to exist and more than hundreds of people took their own lives just to be able to enjoy themselves. To this day I cannot forgive any of the vampires for what they did to me or those around me. I know myself that there are bad ones, but what is their goal?

Or do you have a goal?

"Y / n." I heard his voice.

Awakened from my trance, I see his eyes again. However, they do not have this previous aura, no, they are a little stricter this time. When I gave him a sign of his attention, the lecture immediately came, "You are old enough to know how to behave and with whom to behave. If you show this behavior to someone else, I'll let that person do it . " and do what they want, because I haven't had the nerve for someone like you for a long time. So finally know your limits before I use my weapon against you! "

Impressive. From sentence to sentence his voice grew louder and louder. Seriously, I never expected or even had the idea of ​​this side of Mika in my life, but here it is. Wonderful y / n, now you have managed to sink deeply with Mika, which is actually the very last thing I ever wanted to achieve in my life, but life has never been a paradise.

With a chuckle, Bathory put his arm and my shoulders and spoke to Mika.

"But, but Mika shouldn't be so strict with her. She's just a little girl again, not even now, is she?" "If I were that little girl, you would surely have two arms instead of one." After saying my sentence, I picked up the books that were still on the floor and didn't say goodbye to anyone, why should I?

Bathory is nothing more than an idiot who uses his satisfaction to see others suffer rather than provoke them too.

While Mika nudges both children like a father, although the other is to blame for everything.

When I got to my room, I put the books on my table and sat on my bed, thinking about the old days. However, I don't think of the days with loved ones that I lost, but of those that I spent with Mika before he gave me a “better life”.

I could leave it all behind at any time and either not start an old or a new life, but I love to have him in my heart for it.

Sighing at my thoughts, I give up and stood in front of my closet for the next minute.

While the lukewarm water felt the white bathtub, my clothes landed on the floor.

This life is more of a calling expected of others than a life of its own. A break does no harm to anyone.

I said to myself and after a few seconds I closed my eyes.

After my bath or a break from the real world, I'm just choosing which book to read.

As I was about to start the new book, someone knocked on my door.

Hesitantly, I said the door was open and waited for the person behind it to appear. Please leave it all but Bathory.

Sighing, I immediately put my hand on my left breast and saw him, Mika.

To be honest, I'm happy to see him, but I'm not, but I don't need an explanation. "Good evening." he said in his usual tone. Without making a big head out of it, I repeated it myself, but added if he needed anything from me.

Shivering, I answered my question in the negative and came up to me with slow steps.

The only thing I could do was do nothing. I stopped. When our faces are a few centimeters away, his arm came slowly towards my body, until he reached for something, when he had this in his hand, he came back with a few steps and immediately held a book in my face.

"I really recommend it, I have to say, you have pretty good taste when it comes to books. I've read it several times because these stories, the writing style, the plot and most of all the characters are up to me." uniquely well written down to the smallest detail. "

I looked at the vampire in amazement. "You read that too?" "Y / n, if I hadn't read it, I wouldn't have a clue either."

A little ashamed of my oh-so-intelligent question, I also looked at the floor.

The whole time there was nothing to be heard, neither a little intoxication, nor even breathing. But after a few seconds, Mika also broke the embarrassing silence by taking a few steps and holding out his arm to me. I don't understand it about myself. When Mika is around, I either act annoyed or neutral. However, countless butterflies gather in my stomach when I think of him alone!

"Y / n ... y / n?!" Mika looked up, gave me a neutral look and at the same time held a few strands of my hair and asked me if he should tie my hair up with a towel. I gently took the wet strands of hair from his hand and began to giggle at my discomfort and nervousness. The thought of me being weird was always out of the question.

"I think I'll blow dry my hair. I'll see you at dinner or tomorrow."

"I'll see you at dinner or tomorrow." repeated Mika before she disappeared from my room.

Locked in the room and caught in his deepest thoughts, he stared over the ceiling.

The reviews of that day haunted him to this day when he also dreamed them.

Sleeping now wouldn't be for him, even though it is shortly before 2 o'clock.

But what can you do about it?

The vampire rose from the bed, stretched out, and decided to go for a walk immediately.

As he walked through the empty corridors, he always hoped not to meet anyone.

Whatever stays that way.

Bored and hands in his pockets, the floor caught his attention. It didn't take long, however, because he was amazed to get up when he saw the light coming from someone's room.

He was more than sure whose room, or rather chamber, it was.

It was Y / n's.

He stopped in front of it, thinking, held out his hand and wanted to knock on the door. At the same time he quickly put his hand in his pocket. This scenario takes about 3 minutes. But it wasn't the vampire's nervousness that was unusual, no, why should he be at y / n's door? This is funny.

Doesn't he often seem annoyed or stern in your presence?

Well, he doesn't even know what's going on in his head.

After an eternity, the vampire finally knocked on the human's door and immediately heard "Come in" from the other side.

Without telling himself twice, he opened the door and saw her. He saw her spread out on the large bed with several notes and books.

Stressed out. You can't see it from the outside, but even Mika can confess that he thinks it is strange to see y / n at this time.

"Do you need something?" she asked him and fixed him with her gaze.

"Shouldn't you be sleeping long ago?" he asked and at the same time crossed his arms over his chest.

"Mika, I could ask you that too, don't you think?" sigh y / n and slowly start piling up her notes and books together.

When Mika offered her help, she politely declined and slowly and carefully put the things on her desk.

"If you have nothing special to do, you can always keep me company, you know?"

Yes, even if there is an argument between the two, they still get along well. However, they don't seem to be as close as they used to be. Without saying anything, Mika accepted the offer and sat next to y / n.

Was that really wise?

The smell of y / n gets over his head, but he's not as easy to lose control as other vampires.

Breathing hard, Mika rubbed her eyes and hoped that this unbearable smell would go away any moment.

Easier said than done.

If only I had drunk blood in the last few days. The vampire cursed.

Y / n noticed his unusual behavior and tried to communicate with him, but to no avail. She called his name several times, tapped him on the shoulder, and shook him a little. He seems trapped in his own world. For the first time she seemed to see someone so trapped in his own world. When will he regain his senses?

Annoyed, she hit his skull with her fist, which led to a groan of pain from Mika's mouth. "What does this mean?!"

“If you are tired, please go to your room and sleep there.

Both rolled their eyes in annoyance.

"You have nothing to say to me, human."

"Oh really? What are you going to do about it, vampire?" It wasn't a mistake by y / n, but rather Mika's mistake. If he hadn't called her a human, she wouldn't have called him a vampire. Nobody except Mika knows right now how much he hates vampires and yet he is one himself, but you have to remember that he never wanted to be one. Not everyone is lucky in life.

As I said, even if it was his own fault that she reminded him, he completely lost his nerve. Slowly she approached y / n, she already felt the dark aura coming towards her. However, y / n did not want to show the fear that is in her and slowly rising above her head. She will regret it. "Repeat when you have the pity." "What is the problem? You called me human and I called you a vampire, but you know what makes me be silly, get out of here, vampire. ”Without further ulterior motives, Mika grabbed her wrist and squeezed the bones with her hand listened from print to print. When she wanted to reach for her gun, which is under her top, Mika was a second faster and threw it directly to the end of the room. When Mika immediately released his hand from Y / n's wrist, she saw an emotion in his eyes, sadness.

He was hurt, but shouldn't he care? What should a little person who plays with little guns do against a vampire, ask him about a game? However, he saw her more as a person, he saw her as someone he can love, with whom he can laugh, of course he had had these people before in his life, but they have long since disappeared. Oh how much he loves her.

If only she knew how many letters he wrote her, but never gave them to her, but hid them in his room.

"I'm really stupid." Mika muttered trembling to herself. Y / n heard it and slowly walked up to him "Mika, that was very childish of me and, to be honest, I'm sorry." When she tried to touch his shoulder, he knocked her away and looked into her eyes, it was their fault.

“I don't want your decisions! I never wanted to be a vampire! If you don't know anything about me, please be quiet and think twice before you open your door! ”The whole room went quiet, pretty quiet. It was rather uncomfortably quiet for y / n, but she preferred to keep her mouth shut because it looked like Mika was looking for the right words. "Why do I love you? Tell me Y / N, how can I love you when you hate me so much?" His voice was fragile and it was tormented to hear it that way. "Mika, I had never hated you before." Exhausted, Mika sat down on the floor and looked at the gun at the other end of the room. "Every time I see a gun like that, I hate myself even more." “Even if it sounds a bit clichéd, for example because of the current situation, I have to and want to admit that I love you Mika. You are in such pain and apparently you have torn old wounds. You didn't deserve that, nobody deserved that. ”Y / n sat like Mika on the floor and hugged him. Her warm body against his cold one. As if in slow motion, their faces stood a few inches apart until their lips met.

𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐏

With my hands on the back of his neck and my tongue seeking his, his fingertips dance from my thigh under my top.

Only he managed to make me shiver everywhere in a few seconds with the help of his touch. Not through his ice-cold skin, no, only through him. In keeping with the mood, the cold raindrops hit my window pane. "Waiting." he whispered to me.

Not a second later it was pitch black in my room. The butterflies in my stomach just like Mika don't know when to stop, but I love it, never let it stop! His lips kissed every inch of my skin and whispered to me how divine my body was. His hands slide up my top until it finally brushes over my head. The first item of clothing is already on the floor. My legs were around his waist so he could pick me up and lay me on my bed. When he did that, his lips were still on my skin.

As I lay down comfortably, I watched his clothes land piece by piece on the floor. His belly is built like that of a Greek god and although it is dark the moon shines on him. One could have immediately thought it was a godsend. The boxer shorts were the only items of clothing that remained. While I was about to take off my pants, Mika took my hands and indicated that he could do it himself. When my pants peeled off my skin, he looked at my legs in admiration and immediately threw my pants on the floor. Now stand half-naked in front of my bed. The red cheeks on his cheeks were clearly visible. "Are we really supposed to pull this off?" I asked Mika and looked him in the eye. His lips approached my ear and he breathed softly, "Y / n, the question is not, we should, but we can. A human and a vampire, is that a good chemistry?"

"Why don't we want to find out?" I whispered and kissed his shoulder in time. Now he looked at me again, but with clearly red cheeks you could have thought he had a fever, but I can't blame him, because even when his ice-cold body is on top of mine, my body manages to have a hot temperature.

As our tongues played with each other again, our hands explored each other's bodies. While one hand pinches my buttocks, the other is right on my bra clasp.

Moaning slightly, I also pinched his buttocks and felt my muscles tense. A low gasp left his delicate lips, which made me even weaker. My temperature rises more and more with each of his touches.

I can not stand it anymore!

He knows very well that he has the upper hand!

When my bra, like the rest of the clothes, landed on the floor, his ice-cold hands brushed my arms up to my hips and brushed the last piece of clothing across the floor.

I was breathing hard down in my zone.

His hands were on each thigh so I couldn't pinch my legs together. Apart from the horniness, I could hardly move my legs because of his strength, you can not say that he is so strong. The horniness in me is going like crazy! With every breath Mika takes against my area, the butterflies in my stomach fly crazier.

When his tongue brushed my cervix for less than a second, I let out a gasp. Immediately afterwards he pressed his tongue against it and danced with it at the same time. That I'm getting wetter is not only clear to me, but also to Mika, when he was his tongue in my entrance, she explored every single inch inside.

Overwhelmed by shame and lust, I pressed one hand against my mouth so as not to make a noise from you, and the other on his white-blonde hair.

Every time his tongue penetrated deeper and he spread my thighs wider and wider, it honestly hurt, but I don't care about that at the moment because as good as he makes me feel no one is going to do it and I want it too nobody does it because I just want them. Because I just want Mika.

When I thought it couldn't get better, I was wrong. When he started sucking, I was done. My lustful moans got louder every time I sucked, but I do my best that nobody but Mika can hear it. When he freed his tongue from the entrance again, he stuck his middle and ring finger in the next second and didn't give me a second to get used to it. The speed of his fingers is unique!

No matter how much I press my hand against my mouth, my moans stay louder.

Several times his name groaned, which only drove him to increase the speed. My orgasm is nourishing. When I groaned and said I was about to be there, he didn't stop but continued. His tongue dances on my cervix and his fingers successfully hit the G-spot every time, it's just breathtaking!

When my orgasm came, I screamed his name with relish and breathed heavily as I stared at the ceiling.

His beautiful face approached mine, but he devoted his lips to my ears and whispered, "A second round won't hurt you." Aren't my trembling legs enough for him? In the middle of the kiss, I slowly felt his member inside me, but my nails clawed behind his back in pain, we continued the kiss. Now it was Mika who groaned in the middle of the kiss. He closed his eyes and kissed my chest as his hips began to dance. Is it still normal for him to make me feel this way? Because on the one hand I can no longer, on the other hand I want more! Mika's one hand is on my thigh while the other is on my chest. The way he plays sensitive nipples is superb.

I don't know how he makes me feel so good, but I want him to never stop. "Mika, don't stop." I moaned in his ear and wrapped my legs around his waist. When he saw me, I didn't know how to feel. Because his eyes are blood red! He slowly approached my neck. That cold breath worried me even more. He didn't bite me, however, but instead scratched his designated spot with his fangs as the blood flowed from the wound, so it propelled him and made him much faster than before. The clap of our skin was just as loud as the satisfying moans from our mouths. "Y / n." he groaned my name and immediately turned me around. Now my back was visible to him. With both hands on our hips, our bodies clapped together. When I moaned his name one last time, the orgasm came, Mika pulled his member out of me and rubbed it with his hand until finally the white sperm speared out of his body.

𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐏

After Mika helped me cleanse my body, we are back in bed naked. "Do you think we can do it?" Mika asked out of nowhere. “I don't think so, I know, Mika. And I think you should too. "The vampire looked at me lovingly and finally kissed me on the lips and immediately afterwards whispered" Good night, y / n. " "Good night, Mika."

[gutsybitsies]

This is pnr-ISH in that there’s really only pride and prejudice on one side. because bitty’s a total Jane. 

Bitty was busy writing a letter back to his cousin. Lardo had enclosed such a pretty sketch of the sunset from home. It was thundering and windy outside, and he wondered if the delicate buds in the garden would survive. Unexpectedly, the doorbell rang. 

Maybe Connor returned early with Marianne? Bitty grabbed two towels and hurried to the door, ready to throw those over their shoulders. Instead of his cousin, he saw Jack Zimmermann standing in the doorway. His tall frame darkened it and he had clearly not anticipated the storm. 

“Mr. Zimmermann!” Bitty exclaimed. “Come in, come in. Let me brew up a spot of tea for you, and here, have a towel!” 

He herded Jack Zimmermann into the parlor, and went about setting up for him. This may not be his home, but Bitty will be damned if he let someone be soggy and miserable in his presence. Even if that person was Jack Zimmermann, who didn’t seem to like him much. 

“Now Marianne still hasn’t come back from whatever business she has, and I don’t see her allowing Connor to come back without her. I’ve received such a nice little sketch from my sister, Larissa. You remember her, I hope,” He rambled. “Let me go fetch that in a bit, but you go ahead and help yourself to some warm tea and dry your hair off. And I’m sure that Marianne won’t mind me searching for some suitable garments for you while yours dry off, she’s quite in awe of your aunt. Now that I think about it, she’ll be downright displeased if I don’t offer you a change of clothing.” 

Jack remained silent, before blurting, “How are you? I heard you fell down.”  

Surprised, Bitty smiled and rolled his ankle around. “Oh, it healed pretty much in one day. It wasn’t broken or fractured at all, just swollen.” 

“Good.” Jack was quiet again. 

“Now let me just get those dry clothes for you-”

“No need,” He said abruptly. Jack stopped. “I’m.” He started, then stopped again. 

He stood up abruptly, and walked straight towards Bitty, then decided to change his course and instead went to the side, then paced the room from side to side. 

“This is very hard for me to say,” he said. Jack Zimmermann finally stopped, this time in front of Bitty, and took a deep breath. “I have the deepest affections for you.” 

“I’m sorry, what?” Bitty squeaked. He took a step backwards. Jack Zimmermann was certainly a handsome fellow, and that look in his eyes...Bitty would swoon over him any day. But Jack had never expressed other than disinterest or disdain towards him. Bitty always tried to think the best of most people, and even he thought that sometimes Jack was excessively grumpy for no reason. 

“This has been torturing me,” Jack continued. “I can’t tell whether or not you’re attracted to me, you are so free in your expression. The one moment I think a smile was directed at me alone, I find you coquettishly laughing with another person. Of course I understand your aim, you wish to gain some measure of nobility that your family lacks through marriage with me. Otherwise how can your family's waning dignity and fortune ever lay claim to any sort of honor? And your mother no doubt has input in your head everything to do with taking the path paved easily to better fortunes and standing, to seduce men like me.

And yet I fall for it! So you win. You’ve had my affections since the beginning, and it has only grown stronger. I look at you and I can’t tear my eyes away. My ears seek your voice, my fingers itch for- well. I’ve tried to rid myself of these feelings, because I know that you are exactly the type of shallow that I shun, but I can’t. So you’ve won, and I’m here asking for your hand in marriage.” 

He waited patiently for Bitty’s “yes,” but it didn’t come. The other man stood, as if frozen in surprise. A blush made its way up to his rosy cheeks, the ones that Jack longed to caress and kiss. 

Bitty took another step back, and Jack took a step forward into his space. 

That’s when Bitty burst into tears. 

Jack panicked. “I-I know that this news is good but you don’t have to cry. Happy or not tears shouldn’t fall-” 

“No!” Bitty turned and ran out of the room. He stopped at the entrance to the parlor, and turned back to Jack. 

“It would be a lie if I told you that I’d never entertained thoughts about you,” Bitty said, his eyes trained on the ground, his tears, motivated by fear and surprise, dripping down his face. He refused to look up at Jack. “I’ve always tried to find the best in you, because no one who’s such good friends with Mr. Knight can be a bad person! And you’ve shown adequate politeness over the past few days, but now I see the kind of person you truly are. Was I really as coquettish with other people, or were you just disappointed that I wasn’t directing all my attention to you, even if you had given me no cause to? Because I have never, ever exceeded beyond what is polite and appropriate, and I’m sure that in more detailed recollections you will find no instance where I have behaved irresponsibly.

‘And Lardo was right about you. You hold yourself above all overs, you act as if just by speaking with me you’re extending some sort of honor. All those-those nasty words you said about my family! Did you think that I would swoon into your arms after you insulted the people I love and hold closest to my heart” Bitty’s eyes were drying now as he calmed down, and his breath evened out. “Now bless your heart, but please see yourself out.” 

Jack made his way out, and stopped in front of Bitty, but took a step back when Bitty flinched at his closeness. 

“I only spoke the truth about our circumstances.” He said, softly, afraid to raise his voice in fear of Bitty crying again. “Surely you-”

“Then that must mean that it’s destined we can never be together.” Bitty interrupted, his voice still weak from shock. “Not when I’m clearly a money grabbing shallow thing and when you’re too noble, too rich, and too good for my ilk.” 

Bitty turned away, and didn’t see how Jack left, but the door wasn’t slammed and he had heard slow measured footsteps walking away. 

He remembered the first time he saw Jack, he was blown away at how handsome Jack was. They had one dance, where Jack was silent and gloomy as Bitty tried to make small talk. That was the majority of Jack’s interactions with him. Silent, sulking, staring at him occasionally like Bitty had wronged him. And yet Jack had never caused him harm or discomfort before, so Bitty was happy to defend him against Lardo’s sharp words and criticisms.

And now Bitty couldn’t get Jack out of his mind. Jack, who loved him. Jack, who hated his family. Jack, who saw him as someone as low as dirt. He had no love for Jack in his heart, and yet Bitty felt the ghost of a heartbreak, telling him that he was this close to being torn apart by the harsh words of someone he could’ve loved so so much. 

The next day, as he was taking a walk in the gardens, he saw Jack pacing around. When Jack saw him, he looked determined and walked towards Bitty. 

Bitty froze, unsure of what to do. He wished to turn tail and run, but his politeness kept him rooted to his place. 

“Good morning, Mr. Zimmermann,” Bitty said.

“Good morning, Mr. Bittle.” Jack shoved a letter into his hands. “I’ve been here for a while waiting for you. Please read this.” Then he paused, as if he wanted to say something, before he gave a curt nod and left. 

I apologize deeply for what I have said about your family, and what I have said about you. This is my apology to you, a letter of vindication for your shame (for now I see I have shamed you yesterday). You were right, I was enthralled in my own emotions, by my own jealousy. I have shamed you unrightfully, and now I have cast shame upon myself. 

I understand that you may not wish to see me ever again, and I promise you that I will cease to seek you out. 

Bitty folded the letter, and sighed. Jack’s words when he proposed, although they were rude, were true. Jack would in fact be lowering himself to marry him. All Bitty had to inherit was the meager Bittle estate, mere pennies compared to what Jack had, and it was true, he had little in strategies for keeping his family estate and standing at its height.

If Jack hadn’t been ashamed of him, Bitty thought, he would’ve married him. Bitty thought about handsome Jack and his handsome eyes and sighed. But if he accepted Jack’s proposal, then all Bitty would have for the rest of his life would be churlish words thrown at him, expectations for him to kiss his husband’s feet every day, and snide words about his family flung every day...

Jack Zimmermann was facing a crisis.

“I don’t have to come with you.” 

“Yes, you do!” Shitty said. “I’ve been exchanging letters with Lardo and honestly it’s time. I’ve sent a letter to her father already, and I need you as moral support. A man can only propose to the person he loves once.” 

Jack felt even lower, if that was possible. “Yes, that’s true. Just the one time.” 

“Honestly, I’m surprised you’re not raising a fuss about this. You used to be firmly against the Duangs and their relatives.” Shitty said. “You were trying to convince me to give up on Lardo and that her family wouldn’t be worth the hassle.” 

Jack groaned. “Don’t remind me.” 

“What happened?” Shitty looked concerned. 

“I can’t tell you as this involves another person. But I’ve learned my lesson,” Jack replied. “If you love Lardo, and you feel she loves you back, you should lay your heart bare.” 

“Woah,” Shitty said. “What happened to the cynical Jack Zimmermann? I like this new person! You’re coming with me and sharing the greatest moment of my life.”

“Ugh.” Jack buried his face in a couch pillow, thinking about having to face Eric Bittle again. The thought of Eric Bittle disliking him had struck such a terrible, miserable chord inside him, and Jack knew that if he comes to the Duang Estate with Shitty, then Eric Bittle would probably outright hate him. Or worse, he’d be afraid of Jack. He couldn’t bear causing Bittle pain, but apparently that was just his lot in life. Jack Zimmermann, the one who causes misery to the one he loves.

“I’m cutting this visit short and heading back home,” Jack said, getting up. “I’m going to check up on Ford, and I’m going to stay there until after you propose.” 

“Aww, you miss your sis,” Shitty said. “Go and spend some time with her, but I’ll be personally arriving to your estate to drag you with me.”

Jack just shrugged and left. 

When he arrived back, his housekeeper greeted him and informed him that there were some visitors on the estate.They were currently strolling through the gardens. It would only be polite for him to quickly greet them, before fucking off back inside so he can listen to Ford sing and think about where he’d gone wrong. 

Jack headed to the garden, and he saw a peppy couple cooing over the statues and finely manicured bushes, before a figure trailing behind them caught his eyes. 

He’d never thought that he would see Eric Bittle again. He spent so much time going over what went wrong with Mr. Bittle, he had to stop himself over and over again from going to him to bother him about it. 

[studioahead]

Artist Spotlight: Leslie Williamson

Leslie Williamson is a photographer of interiors. We mean this literally – in books like Still Lives and Modern Originals she photographed the studios and homes of iconic artists, including some of our Northern California favorites – but also figuratively, because what is remarkable about Williamson is her ability to touch upon the life of a space, or as she calls it, the soul – the part that offers a glimpse of a person's inner world, even when that person is no longer part of this one. In speaking with her, and looking at the mysterious, quiet, strangely emotional places she has photographed, I kept thinking of Gaston Bachelard's maxim in The Poetics of Space: "all really inhabited space bears the essence of the notion of home." Flip through any one of her books, and you will see how such notions take shape.

Studio AHEAD: Let's start with your essay "Doc's Lab," published a few weeks ago in a recent WildSam guide, Big Sur & HW 1. Tell us about it and what draws you to this particular landmark in Monterey.

Leslie Williamson: It’s funny how that came about. I became a little enthralled with Ed Ricketts and his Pacific Biological Laboratories when I moved to Monterey in April 2020 (yes, a pandemic move…). I am sure it won’t surprise you to learn that when I am in a new place, I research “house museum” to find what is around me, and when I did this in Monterey, Pacific Biological Laboratories came up. I have never read any Steinbeck so I wasn’t familiar with Ricketts and his story, but with the quiet of the pandemic I soon became a fan. Ricketts is such an inspiring character! It’s no wonder he was Steinbeck’s best friend and muse.

Anyhow, I tried and tried to visit Pacific Biological Laboratories throughout the pandemic but it was always closed. Finally one day, as I was on a walk, the door was open and the nice docent let me in even though I didn’t have a reservation. Oh my goodness that space, it gave me goosebumps!!! It is just so special – steeped in history on a few different levels: early 20th-century Cannery Row and the PBL/Doc Ricketts era and through to the birthplace of the Monterey Jazz Festival and the men’s club that left it to the city of Monterey. Of course I photographed the space and my plan was to write an essay to accompany it that would go on the Still Lives Portal on my website. I have begun sharing my stories in real time there. Happily the WildSam project seamlessly dovetailed in unexpectedly. I am thrilled they wanted to publish my essay in their 50th WildSam guide. I hope people will read the essay while looking at the images. It will really bring it to life.

SA: While we're talking about places, I want to mention a photograph you took that I find so compelling: of JB Blunk's Moongate sculpture that leads to JB Blunk's house. We've been to the estate, and to get there you have to go deep into the woods of Inverness, along a windy road up a steep mountain far from everything, and there is a sense of the space caught unawares, as if no one is supposed to see it. I'm not really sure this is a question! But maybe you can speak about this feeling; it's very powerful.

LW: Thank you! It is a special place for sure. I experienced that same feeling on my first visit. Somehow my emotions come through in my images a lot of the time. I’m not sure I can say more than that. It has always been that way. 

SA: I love the home libraries of various Californian luminaries that you shot in Interior Portraits – partly because whenever I'm in someone's house for the first time I head straight to their bookshelf, and partly because they're incredible spaces. Ray Kappe's library, with its bright blue cushions and the bamboo forest outside, shows his relation to reading. What sort of objects "speak" to you as the kind that tell a story, and how do you photograph that object in way that helps it best tell its story?

LW: First off, can I just say I love libraries too…so much. There was a time when our bookshelves were a window to our mind, heart and soul. I just added a Bibliophilia section on my SL Portal that shares people's bookshelves. I always photograph them and they never make them into my books so I decided they needed a venue of their own.

As for other objects that speak to me, I never know what they are going to be. It is different for every person/space I am in. I generally just trust my gut. From Una Jeffer’s narwhal tusk, to Georgia O’Keeffe’s record collection, I seem to be able to sense where there are meaningful stories.

SA: What role does writing play in your photography, and vice versa?

LW: My writing is still a surprise to me. I see it as in service to my photography; but having said that, the "Doc’s Lab" story ran in WildSam with none of my photographs, so maybe that is evolving? When I wrote Handcrafted Modern, it was a bit of an unexpected turn of events that led me to writing the book, as well. But in hindsight, it was the magic combination of expression I didn’t know I was looking for. The photography always comes first and I let my curiosity run rampant as I shoot. Then, after I have edited the images, I hone in on the stories I want to share in the writing. That is the general scenario my process takes.

SA: Speaking of which, you've now published four books. Tell us a little bit about this process – whether you've a vague idea for each project... or how you build a narrative between each space photographed ... maybe a hint as to the next project you're working on…..

LW: The process of creating my books has evolved quite a bit since Handcrafted Modern. I began just because I wanted to see the spaces of my favorite architects and designers and this evolved into a plan to create a library of how creative people live in the 20th/21st centuries. And that is still happening, but I realized pretty quickly that the discernment of my choice of spaces to photograph is very specific. I am looking for what I call “soul spaces”: spaces that are still imbued with their inhabitant’s soul if they are no longer with us and an innate expression of the owner if they are still living there. There is always a certain je ne sais quoi that I am looking for. I know it when I see/feel it. But I am not sure there are words to describe it.

As for what’s next, I am looking to more shows in art galleries and museums. There is a particular project I am just diving into that will be in a major museum in a few years. I can’t say more. And of course there will be an accompanying book. Creating books is in my DNA.

SA: Finally, pretend you are not Leslie Williamson and that Leslie Williamson comes to one of the homes you've lived in – any of them from your whole life – to photograph it for Still Lives: The Sequel. What room would you want her to capture? What is in it?

LW: Oh wow…what a question! I am not sure any of my former or current homes would warrant being included in one of my books. But I do wish I could time travel back and photograph all of my former living spaces starting with my childhood home, where my father still lives, before we remodeled it in 1976. I can’t really remember it before that and am curious what it was like in its original state and how my parents had it set up, what objects they had, etc. I also wonder if there is an evolutionary through line of my own that would be evident in my own bedroom/homes throughout my life starting from my first bedroom. Like artists who make a portrait of themselves once a year, I wish I had a portrait of my living spaces for every year. I would be fascinated to see that, just for my own curiosity and self learning.

Photos by Leslie Williamson

Leslie Williamson’s home in Monterrey, CA.

“The Party Room” at Doc’s Lab on Cannery Row in Monterey. Originally the home of noted marine biologist and Steinbeck muse Ed Ricketts.

Detail in Ed Rickett's former home and business, Pacific Biological Laboratories, on Cannery Row. Monterey, CA.

JB Blunk’s ‘Moongate’ sculpture and his home in Inverness, CA. 

Detail of the living and loft area in JB Blunk’s home.

Artist and AIDS activist Derek Jarman’s library at Prospect Cottage, his home in Dungeness, UK.

The kitchen/greenhouse and a longe area in the home of artists Evan Shively and Madeleine Fitzpatrick. Marshall, CA.

Artist David Ireland’s sitting room in his home and masterwork, 500 Capp Street. San Francisco, CA.

Stair detail in artist Jesse Schlesinger’s home. Sausalito, CA.

[watchmegetobsessed]

Eunoia - Harry Styles

a/n: i’ve been meaning to write a piece filled with just fluffy, domestic moments through a relationship, and that’s when i created Flora in my mind. wrote it with an OC bc i had very specific traits and stuff in my mind about her and it didn’t feel right to write it with y/n but feel free to read however you’d like it! but i think Flora is a delightful girl, she is a teacher and a free spirit, i think you’ll like her!

pairing: Harry x OC (Floortje ‘Flora’ Hoven)

word count: 9.5k

masterlist

Eunoia (n.) Beautiful thinking: a well mind.

Harry is always looking forward to times when his days aren’t filled from morning to midnight, traveling all around the world, meeting dozens of new people at various new meetings. Don’t get him wrong, he loves the buzz his life comes with, but one can drive this lifestyle only for a while before getting tired. He now appreciates his calm periods, when he is not living out of his suitcase, he has the time to drop by a café and enjoy his morning coffee sitting down instead of grabbing it in a go-to cup and chugging it down in his car. When he can just take a walk when the weather is nice enough and his favorite is when he has the time to just look at things without a rush and appreciate them.

He has built up a habit of going to the same coffee place since he got off tour and jumped right into his well-deserved months off filled with meditation, resting and focusing on himself after giving so much for the world. It’s just two corners down his place, falling perfectly into his way to the gym and now he even has a favorite table in the corner, because it gives him a great view of the place but the vines hanging from the ceiling masks his presence enough that people don’t often notice him there, providing some privacy for his morning coffee.

It was his third day here when he first noticed her. She was sitting at the table by the window, near the door, deep in a book, another pile waiting for her on the free seat next to her as she intensely made notes of her reading. She had her wild, curly hair in a puffy bun on the top of her head, clearly just thrown into it haphazardly when she started working. Her ivory frame glasses kept sliding down the bridge of her nose and thy seemed a bit too big for her face, but they overall fit perfectly with her knitted sweater and dungarees. And Harry couldn’t look over the fact that she had little sunflowers painted on her nails. That instantly made him smile as he adorned her from afar.

As the days passed and Harry spent almost all his morning at the same spot, he started seeing or more like noticing her more often. She always sat at the same table and Harry figured it was because of the natural lighting coming through the windows that came in handy, because she was always either reading and making notes, or doing something crafty, mostly origami, he noticed. She often had her laptop open with tutorials on different origami works that she was trying to make herself, not always succeeding, but she got it right most of the time, a triumphant smile plastering across her face every time she finished a piece, her dimples digging deep into her round cheeks. Harry couldn’t stop herself from smiling whenever she held up the finished work and adorned what she just created. He often wondered what happened to the little creations afterwards, but she just usually shoved them into her backpack before leaving.

By the fifth or sixth time he has seen her, he already knew her order. Vanilla latte with a sprinkle of cinnamon on top. Large sized, of course, so she has something to sip on while she typed away on her laptop or finished reading another book.

Harry caught himself looking for her on mornings when he didn’t see her, which were usually Mondays, Wednesdays and Thursdays, but one Wednesday, when he had an early meeting for a change with his team, he arrived before 8 am into the place and for his biggest surprise, there she was, sitting at her usual table, drinking the same drink as always. Later, Harry found himself coming earlier on those days just to find her there yet again and he figured her work schedule must start earlier on those days.

As the days went by Harry started to play with the thought of walking up to her. He wondered if she has noticed him as well, but it seemed like even if she did, his presence didn’t impress or bother her at all which just irked his curiosity about her even more. But every time he thought about finally talking to her, he decided against it, feeling like he would just be an intruder in her morning sessions. Until one day, the chance was handed to him on a silver plate.

She is doing origami once again on this particular day, making little cranes, one after the other, using different colored papers to make them form out a mess rainbow on her table. It’s a quiet morning, only a few more people sitting around at place. It’s been quite windy the past couple of days and today seems to be the worst, the trees are being tossed around by the howling winds outside, but it just makes it even cozier to sit inside in the warmth, enjoying a nice hot drink.

Harry finds himself watching her intently as her delicate fingers work on the paper, one crane following the other, she is starting to have a whole army of them.

An older man walks into the café and as he opens the door wide, the wind is quick to run into the place, knocking over everything that’s not heavy enough to stay still and the paper cranes are the first ones to start flying off the table.

“No! Darn it!” she gasps, her hands grabbing after them, saving just a few, but most end up on the floor, somersaulting away from her table. Harry is quick to jump to his feet and come to her rescue, lending her a pair of helping hands as she gathers her creations. “Oh, thank you!” she breathes out softly, her eyes meeting his and for his biggest surprise… she doesn’t seem to be stunned or even surprised by him, as if she doesn’t know who he is.

Maybe she doesn’t, it’s a possibility, he tells himself, smiling at her as he collects the cranes from the floor.

“Guess they wanted to be free,” he jokes, setting them on the table with the rest.

“It wasn’t my brightest idea to do it on such a windy day near the door,” she chuckles, looking over the bunch she’s been working on for the past thirty minutes.

“May I ask why you need so many paper cranes?” Harry inquires, leaving out the part that he’s been watching her do her origami for weeks now.

“Oh, I want to make decorations out of them, hang them up in my classroom. I’m a teacher,” she adds smiling.

That’s the most fitting job he could ever imagine for her, she is definitely the cool and adored teacher every kid is obsessed with.

“Wow, and how many do you need?” he asks, the stack of paper at the edge of the table looks quite a lot and he wonders if she wants to use them all for the cranes.

“Well, as many as I can make before my fingers fall off,” she jokes. Harry notices her freckles from up close that have been hidden behind her glasses until now. Her hair is in two space buns today and she is wearing a striped shirt with light-washed jeans and colorful sneakers. The sunflowers are gone from her nails, replaced by tiny daisies, but Harry likes them just as much as the previous flowers. They fit her well.

“Do you… I would love to help, if you want,” he finds himself offering, not even thinking about the question before it slips his mouth.

“You sure?” she asks, seemingly surprised but she definitely doesn’t find it weird that he just offered to help her.

“Yeah. Looks really calming and I haven’t made one in so long. Want to see if I still remember the steps,” he smiles.

“Take a seat then,” she nods, returning his smile. Harry goes back to his table to grab his stuff and join her.

“I’m Harry, by the way,” he introduces himself as he takes the empty chair at her table, holding out his hand for her that she gladly takes.

“Floortje, but everyone just calls me Flora,” she smiles.

“Never heard that name, what’s the origin of it?”

“It’s Dutch. My dad is Dutch, he came up with the name as well and my mother liked it. It means little flower, nothing grandiose,” she chuckles, reaching for another paper to start her next crane.

“Do you have a Dutch last name as well?” he asks, but then realizes she might not feel comfortable sharing her full name just yet. “You don’t have to tell me your last name though, if you don’t want to.”

“It’s alright,” she chuckles. “It’s Hoven, which is Dutch, but you pronounce it pretty much the same as you’d if it was a simple English word, just with a softer V in the middle,” she explains, her fingers working easily and fast on the thin paper, the crane is already starting to form. Harry reaches for a paper himself and tries to recollect his memory of the steps.

“Were you born in the Netherlands too?”

“Yes, I was born in Eindhoven, but we moved here when I was five. But my Dutch is still just fine, luckily. My dad refused to talk to me in English when we moved, he said he won’t have his daughter forget her mother tongue just because he is getting paid more here,” she explains with a soft chuckle as she finishes up the crane, putting it to the pile.

“I always envied bilingual people. Must be great to speak two languages that easily,” Harry wonders, eyes fixed on the paper as he is trying his best with the crane. It’s slowly coming together, though it’s not as pretty as Flora’s.

“It’s not that fun when I suddenly forget a word in one of the languages and then spend twenty minutes trying to remember when I know for a fact I know the words, it’s just stuck on my tongue.”

Harry laughs, finishing up his creation, holding it up and Flora looks at it as well. It’s a little crooked and one of its wings is longer than the other, but overall, it’s a decent first one.

“You don’t have to use it if you don’t want to,” he chuckles, putting it to the others.

“What are you talking about? It looks great!” she smiles, taking it into her hand, looking at it from all angles, smiling widely as she places it back to its peers. “It’s a nice one, and after all, it’s not your job to make cranes, so you’re fine,” she jokes.

Harry reaches for another paper as he thinks about if she knows him. Does she know what his job really is? Not that he expects everyone to know him, but she seems his age and it’s been quite impossible for him to meet someone close in age to him and not know a thing about him.

“Yeah, origami is definitely not my job,” he hums and then adds: “You… know what my job is?”

Flora glances up at him, a small smile tugging on her lips.

“Is this your way of trying to find out if I know you or not?” she smirks, tilting her head to the side, and it’s already a giveaway that she is very much aware of who she is sitting at a table with.

“I know, it was lame,” he huffs awkwardly.

“No, it was alright. And to answer your question, I do know what your job is, Harry Styles,” she replies.

“Sorry for asking around about it, you just seemed so casual and unbothered when you saw me, I thought you have no idea who I am.”

“I’m a teacher, my job is to treat everyone the same, I take equality very seriously. I don’t want my kids to think I put any of them above the rest, but I do the same outside of school too. Or do you want me to gasp and stutter now that you are sitting here?” she teases him making him laugh.

“That’s not needed at all.”

They work on their cranes in a comfortable silence and just as Harry thought, it’s quite relaxing, his thoughts slowly clear out, only focusing on the little birds he is creating. Then he glances up at Flora and suddenly his thoughts are filled with her once again. Now is his chance with her, he doesn’t want to leave this café without at least asking for her number even when he knows that he will surely see her around, just like always.

“Can I ask you something?” he speaks up as they both keep folding the colorful papers.

“Of course.”

“I hope I won’t sound creepy or something, but I’ve seen you around a lot and noticed how much you read. Is that just your hobby or…?”

“First of all it’s not creepy that you have noticed me, it’s flattering, because I have noticed you as well,” she smiles, paying him a quick glance.

“Really? I had a feeling you haven’t even seen me.”

“I did, but I thought you come here for the same reason as I do; to have some peace for yourself.”

“Ah, I see,” Harry nods.

“But to answer your question, I’m working on my second degree.”

“Oh, what’s that about?”

“Special education, speech therapy to be exact,” she tells him and Harry is even more stunned by her. Education is already a field not many can handle and then there is Flora, who didn’t just take up on it, she jumped right into it, pursuing a second degree in special education, a hard and challenging part of this job.

“Any particular reason why you chose it?”

“I have a younger brother, he is ten years younger than me, so he was already born here, but he was taught Dutch too. However, it wasn’t as easy for him as it was for me to speak two languages at the same time and he has developed some speech errors. Nothing major, but it was enough for him to be bullied in school. I saw his face every day when he came home and lied to our parents that everything is fine but then he cried to me in my room when they weren’t around. I don’t want any other kids to go through that, I’d love to be the one to not just help them come over their speech errors but also make sure they are treated the same way as everyone else.”

Harry hasn’t even noticed that he stopped working on his crane, he is now staring at her in awe, completely stunned by her. The more he learns about her the more he thinks she is a literal angel sent from above and that he can’t let her slip from his hands.

Flora looks up at him and finds him staring, a blush appearing on her full cheeks.

“Sorry for staring, but I just… this is so beautiful. Your passion about education is just one of a kind, truly. And the way how you made it your whole career and everything, I’m just… blown away,” he admits.

“Well, you made a career out of your passion too, didn’t you?” she chuckles softly.

“I did, but your story is just a little more touching,” he smirks. “Flora, I’m gonna be honest with you. I’ve been meaning to come up to you for a while and now that we officially met, I just—I would love to take you out on a date and get to know you better.”

She blushes again and Harry notes how well the pinky shade fits her even if she probably wishes she could control it more.

“That would be lovely,” she smiles shyly and grabbing a crane from her pile she grabs a pen from her bag and writes her number to the wing of it before handing it over to Harry.

He loves that she could have easily just typed it into his phone, yet she chose to do it this way. He smiles down at the crane and puts it into his bag, securing it as if it was his biggest treasure.

When Flora opens her door for Harry she is still wearing her apron that’s filled with tulips, a pair of simple jeans underneath it with a bright yellow shirt. Harry smiles as he leans down and greets her with a soft kiss. Ever since their first kiss he has been obsessed with stealing one whenever he has the chance. Their first one was nothing grandiose, such a simple and mundane moment but for him, it was perfect. They were visiting a gallery, he chose the exhibition hoping she’ll be a fan of it since the theme was botany, all paintings connected to flowers, gardens and plants and he was right. Flora was stunned, fascinated by each painting as they stopped at one after the other, taking their time to adore the works. They were looking at a painted garden filled with colorful wildflowers around a small cottage in the distance. Flora’s eyes wandered over all the tiny details as Harry stood close to her. She then leaned closer to point out her favorite flower and once they realized just how close their faces were, he just easily closed the gap and kissed her softly, surrounded with art, but he was convinced she was his favorite masterpiece he has ever seen.

“Hi, sorry, I’m a little late, dinner is not ready yet,” she huffs letting him inside. “Had to stay at the school a little longer than expected.”

“Don’t worry. Can I help with anything?” he asks following her into the kitchen, putting the bottle of wine he brought into the fridge to keep it cool until dinner.

“No, it’s fine. I just need about fifteen minutes to finish up the veggies,” she smiles at him and tiptoeing she steals a quick kiss. Harry hasn’t been the only one obsessed with kisses. “Make yourself home.”

Harry leaves to use the bathroom quickly and on his way back he finds himself wandering into her bedroom. He has been in her home just a few times before, only spending short minutes here when he was picking her up but now he has time to actually look around, hoping she won’t mind him snooping around.

Her whole place is just as colorful as she is always, each piece of furniture a different style and color, yet fitting so well when you see it as a whole. The quilted patchwork blanket over her bed is definitely homemade, each patch has a different flower on it while the left lower corner has Floortje embroidered into it. Harry wonders if it was made by a friend or family member, either way, it’s surely a special piece.

Her dresser is cluttered with rings, perfumes and endless amount of hair ties. She has complained before that her hair stretches her elastics out so fast, she keeps buying new ones every month. The little armchair in the corner is covered with a few of her used clothes, ones she’ll wear once more before putting them into the laundry basket.

As he walks over to her nightstand that’s filled with books, at least seven piled on each other, his eyes stop over something that makes his heart flutter.

A crooked little paper crane is sitting on the edge of the nightstand, the one he made the first time they talked, to be exact. Harry takes the bird and looks at it in awe, surprised that she kept it to herself. However he doesn’t find it odd, not even a little bit, since he has also kept the one she wrote her phone number onto, it’s sitting on his desk in his study.

“Found something interesting?” Flora walks in and Harry’s head whips towards her, feeling like he was just caught. But the warm smile on her lips is a telltale sign that she doesn’t mind him looking around.

“You kept it,” he states matter-of-factly, holding up the paper bird.

“Of course I did,” she nods, walking closer. “It’s a special one.”

“Thought you treat everyone and everything the same,” he teases smiling as he puts the crane back, his hands finding her waist.

“I guess there are a few exceptions,” she smirks slyly, her hands running up on his arms until they reach the base of his neck.

“Am I an exception?” The corners of his mouth curl up as he places the bird back on her nightstand and circle his arms around her waist.

“Did I say that?” she teases him. “I think I called your work a special one.”

Harry narrows his eyes at her, pretending to be hurt at her words, but he can’t push the growing smile back from his lips. They’ve been seeing each other for only over a month, but it was enough time to make him completely hooked on her. He is amazed by her in every possible way, feeling like he could never get enough of the ray of sunshine that Flora is. His favorite thing is that she makes him feel so normal, just an average guy dating a girl he met at a café. Not once did she treat him any different because of what he is and it’s just the feeling Harry has been looking for for such a long time.

“Come on, dinner is ready,” she smiles, pecking his lips before peeling his arms off of her frame, taking his hand as she pulls him out of the bedroom, however they surely end up in there again sometime after dinner, but with way less clothes on.

Harry watches as Flora plays with the bubbles in front of her, picking some foam up into her hair, watching it move around on her wet palm before blowing on it gently, her delicate fingers poking at the small bubbles that escaped from it. His hands are caressing her sides under the warm water that was once hot when they first got into it about an hour ago.

It’s been a lazy Sunday, Flora arrived early in the morning and went plant shopping. Her home has always been filled with plants and Harry has grown a liking to all the greenery, wanted some more in his house as well and Flora was more than happy to help him pick out the ones that are the easiest to take care of. Then they cooked lunch together, watched a movie and cleaned up the mess they made in the kitchen before running the bath. Harry has been loving these domestic days, lounging around his or her home, wearing comfy clothes and not caring about much of the outside words, just enjoying each other’s company.

“Remind me to buy peanut butter the next time I’m going grocery shopping,” she speaks up, leaning further back against his chest while Harry rests his chin on her shoulder, his arms tightening around her waist under the layer of bubbles.

“What do you need it for?” he hums, nudging her hair with his nose, her curls ticking his face, but he doesn’t mint it.

“I want to make cupcakes for the kids next week.”

“What for? Is there gonna be a special occasion?”

“No, they’ve just been super nice lately, we set up some new rules in the classroom and they’ve been really good following them.” Harry hums, loving how she is so eager to treat her students, he is convinced she is easily the best teacher he has ever came across.

“So peanut butter, huh? I think I need some too. Been dying to eat a good burger with some peanut butter.”

“I cannot believe you put peanut butter into your burgers,” she chuckles, peeking at him over her shoulder.

“Don’t bash it when you haven’t even tried!” he defends himself, kissing her cheek softly.

“The Aztecs would be so disappointed,” she sighs turning back forward, so she doesn’t see the puzzled look on Harry’s face.

“The Aztecs?”

“Yeah, they technically invented peanut butter,” she nods, as if it was common knowledge.

“Do I want to know why you know this about the history of peanut butter?” he chuckles softly.

“Well I had this kid last year who was obsessed with it and I started looking up fun facts for him for mornings when he looked a little moody. Then the others started enjoying it too so it became our morning thing that I told them a fun fact about anything.”

“Oh really? Tell me one then!” he asks smirking, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.

“Okay, um…” she thinks to herself. “Do you know what the Olympic rings stand for?”

“I do not,” he shakes his head.

“The five rings stand for the five inhabited continents of the world, united by Olympism.”

“Sounds logical,” Harry nods. “Tell me another one,” he asks.

“Are you going to make me tell you all my fun facts?” she chuckles, turning a little so she can look into his beautiful green eyes.

“Maybe. I like it when you talk like this,” he smirks playfully.

“Like what?”

“Like… smart. I love how you know all these little things about the world and teach it to not just the kids but to me as well.”

“You don’t think I’m a smartass?”

“Why would I?” he questions, eyebrows furrowed.

“I used to be picked on in middle school because I liked to learn, more than what was required.”

“That doesn’t make you a smartass, baby. You don’t go around, correcting every tiny mistake around you. You use your knowledge to educate, like you should.”

Flora smiles softly at him, his words bringing the sense of reassurance she’s been seeking for so long. She pecks his lips shortly before turning back forward.

“Do you know how many days a billion seconds make up?” she asks, smiling to herself.

“I don’t.”

“11 574 days. That’s a little over 31 years.”

“So I haven’t lived a billion seconds in my life just yet,” Harry states, doing the quick math.

“No, you haven’t,” she smiles, mostly at the fact that he didn’t just listen to her little fun fact, but also thought about it a bit deeper.

They stay in the bath until the water gets cold and Harry keeps asking for fun facts and Flora gladly tells him whatever comes to her mind.

Harry finishes up the fresh salad, filled with Flora’s favorites: cherry tomatoes, feta cheese and corn with some kale, baby spinach and garlic dressing. He even sprinkled some sesame seeds on top, now he is pretty proud of his work, it looks like something influencers would snap in an aesthetic photo to their Instagram feed.

His bare feet tap against the hardwood floor as he makes his way to Flora’s bedroom where she is still curled up on her chair in front of her computer, her hair in a mess on top of her head, glasses perched up on the bridge of her nose. She hasn’t moved much from the spot in hours, intensely working on her thesis that should be finalized within the next two weeks. She has been gradually working on it over the last few months, in no mean she is behind, but she’s been extra nervous about making it as good as she wanted it when she started and Harry has been nothing but supporting about it, knowing how much it means to her. So he’s been her moral support, making sure she eats, gets some rest and doesn’t get herself too worked up about her research. She appreciates his efforts and though she often feels bad for neglecting him lately, he made sure to assure her, he’ll be right here when she is finally done with it.

Harry walks around the mountain of books on the floor she has piled up from the library these past two weeks as he walks up behind her while her fingers type away on her computer so fast he can barely believe she even understands what she’s typing.

“Hey,” he softly calls out, leaning down he kisses her cheek, holding the bowl of salad in front of her, drabbing her attention, making her gaze move from the screen to the food in front of her.

“Oh, hey! Is this for me?” she asks with a soft smile, lifting her head so she can look at him. Even with the circles under her eyes, the messy hair and worn out t-shirt that she’s wearing, he thinks she is the most wonderful creature he has ever seen.

“Yeah. Come take a break, yea?”

She doesn’t protest, just saves the file before moving away from the desk to the bed along with Harry. She props herself up against the headboard, a tired moan escaping her lips as her spine rests against the pillows under her back. Harry hands her the salad and she digs right into it, only just now realizing that she’s been feeling hungry for the past two hours, but ignored it entirely.

“How much do you have left?” Harry asks nodding towards the computer.

“I’m finishing up the last part, then I just have to write the abstract and then…” she explains, popping a tomato in her mouth. “It’s just gonna be the formatting. I think I’ll be done by Wednesday.”

“That’s great,” he smiles proudly. He has always admired how hardworking she’s been when it came to school and her profession. He could never imagine himself do the same, especially because he didn’t even finish high school. He used to feel a little self-conscious about it when they first started dating, afraid that she might think less of him because he didn’t finish his education properly, even though it was never something that bothered him. But Flora assured him that it makes absolutely no difference in her opinion about him.

“It’s not about the papers or how many schools you’ve finished. It’s about how you see the world and if you are willing to learn when it changes around you. And I think you are perfect in that department, your curiosity and openness makes you an excellent learner,” she told him without even thinking about it.

Harry lies on his side next to her, one hand propping his head up while the other one wanders to her thigh, massaging it gently. She hums to herself, enjoying the food he made and he can’t help the smile that creeps on his face. He loves taking care of her, especially because most of the times it’s her that takes care of him. Cooking for him after a long day at the studio, putting his laundry away while he is in an online meeting or writing him a list for when he goes grocery shopping, Flora has been watching out for him through these little things, but now it’s finally his turn to give it all back.

He’s been thinking about asking her to move in with him for a few weeks now, he just hasn’t been brave enough to bring it up, thinking that she might find it too early for such a big step, seeing that the two of them have been dating for a little over nine months. He’s been playing with the thought of coming home to her every single day, waking up next to her in the mornings, watch her form his home more to her liking, creating a space for the both of them, making it a home not just for him but her as well.

As she finishes up her salad, completely oblivious to what Harry is thinking about, he decides to bring it up once she is done with her thesis, not wanting to bother her in any possible way until she is finished.

“Mm, this was lifesaving, thank you,” she sighs, leaning over she kisses him softly as her appreciation for the sweet gesture. “I’ll finish up this one paragraph I’m in the middle of and then we could watch a movie. But strictly without subs, because I’m done with words for today,” she jokes, making him laugh as he takes the empty bowl from her hands.

“Sounds good,” he nods. “I’ll clean up in the kitchen and find something to watch while you finish.”

“Thank you.” As they both get up from the bed, she pulls him down for another kiss, Harry’s free hand finding the small of her back right away. “I love you,” she whispers against his lips, his heart fluttering in his chest at the words he has heard before, but it never fails to stun him.

“I love you too. Now go, finish it so we can cuddle,” he smiles, smacking her bum gently before they let go of each other.

“Ja, pappa. Dat klinkt fantastisch. Ik zal het hem vragen. Ja.” Yes, dad. That sounds fantastic. I’ll ask him. Yes.

Harry listens to Flora talk to her father on the phone as she applies her lip balm, the one she uses every night before going to bed. He loves it when she talks in Dutch, many tend to criticize the language, but not Harry. Or maybe it’s just because he only hears Flora talk it and he loves everything she does.

“Ja, dat is goed. Dank je. Tot ziens, pappa, ik hou van je!” Yes, that’s great. Thank you. See you soon, dad, love you!

She ends the call and switches the light off in the bathroom that’s been not just Harry’s but hers since she officially moved in with him just last week. Harry finally built up the courage to ask her opinion about the possibility of living together in the near future once she was free from the worries of her research and thesis. For his biggest surprise, she was on the exact same page as him, definitely a fan of the idea. So three weeks later they started slowly moving all her stuff over to his until her apartment completely emptied out. Now all her belongings are splattered across Harry’s home, they haven’t found the perfect place for everything just yet, but it’s slowly starting to feel like home for the both of them.

“Dad called, asked if we would go over for dinner this weekend,” she tells him, moving around the bedroom as she takes her little hoop earrings off, placing them in the shell she uses as a jewelry holder on top of the dresser. She is wearing a pair of yellow sweatpants with one of Harry’s shirts, nothing underneath them, just how Harry loves it.

“It’s cute how you always tell me it was your dad, but he is the only one you speak Dutch with,” he chuckles lowly as she climbs to bed, pulling the covers over the both of them.

“It comes so naturally, I don’t even realize I’m switching languages,” she admits smiling.

“Dinner sounds lovely,” he nods, getting back to what she was talking about before.

“Arnold is bringing his girlfriend too,” she smirks, her eyes sparkling from excitement.

“Your brother has a girlfriend now?” he hums, eyebrows rising at the new information.

“It’s the girl I saw him with at his basketball game last month. They made it official like two weeks ago.”

“And he is already bringing her home? He is not beating around the bush,” he chuckles. “Is it going to be the first time the girl meets your parents?”

“Yeah, so it’s gonna be exciting,” she nods, cuddling to his side.

Flora is playing with the little cross pendant on Harry’s chest and he is watching her delicate fingers flipping it over, her fingertips tickling his chest a little in the process.

“When we have kids, will you also teach them Dutch?” he suddenly questions, the words just blurting out of his mouth. Flora lifts her head, resting her chin on his chest as she looks into his curious eyes. She stays silent, but a small smile is tugging on her lips for sure.

“What?” he asks, feeling a little nervous. It’s the first time he is bringing having kids up, but he definitely has been thinking about it, especially since she has moved in. They haven’t been dating for that long, but Harry is one hundred percent sure he is in the long run with her.

“I just… love how you said when and not if.”

“Well, it’s a question of when for me. What about you?”

“Same goes for me,” she smiles warmly. “And yes, I do want my children to speak Dutch. It’s important to my family and me as well. How does that sit with you?”

“Totally fine. In fact, I always envied kids growing up who were taught another language so early in their childhood. Would love that for my kids as well.”

“Dan is het geregeld,” she smiles widely at him.

“What’s that mean?” He furrows his eyebrows.

“I said that, then it’s settled. We’ll have some cute, bilingual babies,” she chuckles, half jokingly, half seriously.

Today has just been one of those days that were doomed from the moment Harry opened his eyes. He has been overwhelmed with stress lately, working on new music, but his studio sessions haven’t been as successful as he wanted them. He is also flying out to LA for two weeks in just a couple of days and he has to miss Flora’s mom’s birthday this weekend, which has been torturing him with guilt ever since he found out he can’t push his trip back.

This morning it felt like the universe just plotted against him. He slipped in the shower, broke a glass in the kitchen and successfully ripped one of his favorite jeans when he was getting dressed. He had a one way ticket cranky city, turning Harry into a moody little child. It didn’t take him long until he started a fight with Flora over the smallest, most ridiculous thing. It started with how Flora misplaced a bowl in the cabinet and took him two moments longer to find it than usual, then they ended up disputing about every little thing about each other they’ve been finding annoying, but neither of them voiced their feelings about them.

Flora, on the other hand, was not in the mood to argue with Harry so early on a Tuesday morning and she chose to just walk away and let him stew in his own anger. Harry knew the moment he heard the front door shut that she was mad at him: she didn’t kiss him goodbye like she does every day before she leaves.

He took a cold shower to cool him down and clear his head, get his thoughts straight so he can apologize like she deserves. Getting into his car he drives to the florist he usually goes to when he needs flowers for whatever occasions. The old lady greets him with a warm smile and upon describing what he envisioned, she immediately knows what to create for him this time. The result is a giant, colorful bouquet that reminds him of Flora in every possible means.

Driving down to her school he is met with an extreme amount of nostalgia even though it’s not even the school he went to as a kid, but it still brings back some memories.

The security guard immediately stops him when he walks into the building, but once he has explained him the situation, the old guy gladly tells him which classroom is hers so he can go and surprise her. His footsteps echo in the empty hallways as it is the middle of the second period, all students are locked up in their classrooms, lucky for Harry, because he surely can’t deal with teenage girls recognizing him right now. Holding the flowers in one hand he stops when he finds room 414 and he can hear Flora’s voice coming from inside, enthusiastically explaining something about penguins and it makes Harry smile.

Even with such a horrible morning behind her, she is still giving one hundred for her students. He brings up his hand and softly knocks on the door, interrupting her speech.

“Come in!” she calls out and Harry opens the door, popping his head inside first, then holding up the bouquet of flowers, making the kids start chattering in excitement at his arrival while Flora is staring at him shocked.

“Miss Hoven, do you have a moment for me, please?” he asks with a shy but charming smile. She quickly gains back control over her features before turning to her class.

“Please start working on task two and five, I’ll be right back,” she orders, but the chatter doesn’t die down so she raises her voice at them. “This is not how we act when we have guests, guys!”

The kids are quick to quiet themselves, eyes curiously switching between their teacher and the intruder at the door.

“Miss Hoven, is this your husband?” one of the kids, a little blond boy asks.

“No, Michael, he is not. Harry is my boyfriend,” she answers calmly, heading towards the door.

“Wait, I know him!” a girl exclaims gasping. “He sings the watermelon song!”

“Lilian, no discussion now. Do the tasks!” Flora tells her before walking out, but keeping the door open so she can hear what’s happening inside. Her cheeks are flushed and eyes wide when she finally looks at Harry again. “What’s—What’s this?”

“These are for you,” he clears his throat, handing her the bouquet. “And I came here to apologize for being such an arsehole this morning. It wasn’t your fault, I’ve just been crankier lately and I took it all out on you. I’m very sorry.”

Flora’s eyes soften on him as she takes one of his hands with her free one, giving it a squeeze.

“I said some nasty stuff too, so I guess I’m sorry too,” she sighs, her anger and frustration from earlier now long gone.

“I brought that out of you, so I’ll take the blame,” Harry chuckles softly. “But the point is that I’m sorry.”

“Well, you are forgiven. You were even before you came here,” she assures him smiling warmly. “Why don’t we order something tonight and just get lazy on the couch?”

“You said you have some tests to go through.”

“That can wait. You’re leaving in two days so I want to spend time with you.”

“So we won’t get our tests back tomorrow?” they both hear a muffled voice coming from inside and Flora chuckles shaking her head as she opens the door wider and steps inside. A small group of kids run back to their seats, but not fast enough to not get caught.

“Lilian, would you mind telling me why you left your seat without permission?” Flora questions the girl who just rolls her lips into her mouth, pretending like she hasn’t even moved all along. Flora sighs stepping outside once again. “I gotta go now, but thank you for this. They look beautiful,” she tells Harry.

“I love you,” he murmurs and leaning down he kisses her quickly, feeling like he is breaking rules even though he is not a student or a teacher here.

“I love you too,” she smiles back before walking back inside and shutting the door. Harry stays for a minute, just out of curiosity to hear if the kids ask her some more questions about him.

“Miss Hoven?” a girl calls out and Harry bets it’s the same nosy girl who recognized him.

“Yes, Lilian?”

“You have a nice boyfriend,” she exclaims, earning a soft chuckle from Flora.

“Well thank you, Lilian, but let’s get back to our new unit. Let’s see the tasks you had to solve!”

The splashing sound of vomit arriving to the toilet hits Harry’s ears once again as he is rushing up the stairs with a glass of water and the Emetrol his hands that he dug the kitchen cabinets through for. Arriving to the master bathroom he finds Flora just where he left a few minutes ago, kneeling in front of the toilet, arms on the rim as she is taking a deep breath, hoping to calm her stomach and stop throwing up finally.

“Oh baby, here. Found you some Emetrol, this should help,” he coos gently, sitting down to the marble floor next to her he places the water beside him as he pours some of the liquid medicine into the cap for her. She lifts her head, skin pale as the wall, the dark circles under her eyes make his stomach churn, he hates to see her in this condition and wishes he could just help her.

“Thank you,” she mumbles, her shaking hand takes the cup and she downs the medicine before taking a few sips from the water. “Harry, I’m so sorry for ruining our date,” she sighs in defeat.

“Oh shush. Don’t you dare apologize for being sick,” he shakes his head, putting the Emetrol aside before he towers above her to redo her hair so it doesn’t fall to her face. Today marks their one year anniversary and though they only planned to go out for a nice dinner, nothing extra, Flora still feels bad they had to cancel on their reservation when she started throwing up this afternoon. She’s been feeling nauseous ever since she ate that leftover casserole for lunch. She had a feeling she should have just gotten rid of it, but she hated wasting food so ate it. Big mistake.

Harry’s fingers delicately work on her curls, piling them on the top of her heat before he secures the bun with professional movements using the elastic he tends to wear on his wrists, just because Flora always loses hers. He likes to keep one on him as well. His long haired days trained him well, her hair is neatly kept out of her face as she frowns, feeling her stomach churning again.

“Can I do anything else for you, baby?” he gently asks, pressing the back of his hand to her forehead to make sure she doesn’t have a fever, but she feels alright. She probably just has to get rid of the bad food.

“Can you please get me a wet washcloth?” she asks faintly. Sitting to her butt she leans against the wall beside her with her eyes closed.

Harry nods and he is on his feet in a blink of an eye, grabbing a washcloth from the cabinet and wetting it in some cool water. He kneels in front of her and starts gently tapping it against her cheeks, forehead and neck, wiping off the thin layer of sweat.

“This is not how I planned to spend our anniversary,” she groans with a frown, making him chuckle.

“We agreed, the anniversary is postponed. Don’t even think about it.”

“But I wanted to look nice for you, even bought a new dress.” She pouts her lips at him, eyes opening narrowly, glistening from the tears that watered them while she was throwing up.

“You always look nice, baby,” he softly tells her, letting her take the washcloth before she places it over her forehead.

“Even now? After you saw me throw up four times? We have very different versions for the word nice, H,” she jokes with a soft chuckle and Harry is thankful to see her smile, even if it’s still very faint and tired.

“Even now, baby,” he nods smirking and he is not lying. Though the situation is saddening, Harry still enjoys taking care of her, being the one she can rely on even on her worst days.

They sit on the bathroom floor as the medicine slowly works and she finally gets rid of the urge to throw up. Then Harry scoops her up and undressing the both of them, he helps her take a nice shower before dressing her in clean clothes, tossing their dirty ones into the laundry basket, noting to do them sometime in the morning.

When Flora is settled under the cover, head comfortably sinking into the pillow, she immediately feels her eyes closing, the strenuous afternoon has successfully sucked all her energy right out of her body. Harry brings her another big glass of water for the night and just to be sure, puts a trashcan next to her side, if things go south again. When he gets under the covers she is already half asleep, but she hums when his fingertips dance down the side of her face.

He allows himself to shamelessly admire her as she finally falls completely asleep, her lips parted as she slightly snores, but she looks so peaceful, the painful frown he saw on her face all afternoon is now gone from her beautiful face. He hasn’t fully wrapped his mind around how an entire year has passed with such a wonderful creature by his side. As their anniversary was coming up, he caught himself thinking about what the future is holding for them more often. There were so many things they needed to experience together, so much to see and do as partners and Harry couldn’t wait for it all to come.

As he lies in the bed next to her, a smile tugs on his pink lips at the thought of the possibility of spending the rest of his life with Flora. His future has never seemed brighter than in that moment.

“This is harder than I thought,” Flora admits, focusing on the instrument on her lap, trying to figure out if she is holding down the accords the right way, but a moment later Harry’s hand covers hers on the neck of the guitar and he fixes her fingers on the strings until they are in the right position.

“Like this. Try it now,” he murmurs, his chin resting on her shoulders as she is standing between his legs, back leant against his chest. Flora has been begging him to teach him a few accords on the guitar and today finally brought the moment Harry would turn into her master.

The two of them are sitting on the bed, Harry only in his underwear while Flora is in one of his hoodies with only her panties covering the lower parts of her body. Harry came back from a week-long trip to New York and they haven’t left the bed too much since he set his feet inside the house, only emerging from the bedroom to fulfill their other physical needs.

Flora’s fingers strum against the strings and the instrument comes to life, giving her a clear accord finally, bringing a triumphant smile to her lips.

“You are a natural talent, baby,” he smirks, giving her hips a gentle squeeze before kissing into her neck.

“Don’t tease me, I’m trying!” she warns her playfully, playing the chord again, loving how she can create such a beautiful sound with the instrument.

“Mm, you’re coming for my career?”

“Oh, surely. I think I would make an excellent rockstar,” she nods confidently, making him laugh.

“You are so not the rockstar type. More like the chill indie singer who dances barefoot on stage.”

“Yeah, but I could spice it up a little and make it rockstar-y,” she explains and glances back at him over her shoulder. “Don’t you think I would look hot in one of your stage costumes? Sparkly suit and all?”

“Oh I know you’d look amazing,” he nods eagerly. He has spent quite some time imagining her girl in one of his suits and he quite liked the thought. Flora chuckles as he puts the guitar aside before she turns around and straddles him, her knees on each of his sides.

“Yeah? I would need a better name, mine is not too fitting for a star,” she explains. “Easy for you, your name is basically the most perfect name for a rockstar.”

“You think so?” he cocks an eyebrow at her, his palms coming to cup her bum as he tilts his head backwards since this position makes her the taller one for a change.

“Harry Styles? Oh please, it’s like Anne knew she would give birth to a legend,” she scoffs making him laugh.

“I’ve been told it’s a nice one,” he shrugs smugly. “I think it’s the surname.”

“It’s pretty cool, yeah.”

“What if you had the same? Flora Styles? Sounds pretty badass,” he suggests and at first, she doesn’t even realize the hidden meaning behind his words, tasting the name so obliviously.

“Flora Styles? You might be right, the surname sounds very cool,” she agrees and it amazes him how easily it went over her head.

“You like it?”

“Mhm,” she nods, her hand reaching for the guitar once again, but Harry stops her, taking it between his as he blindly finds her ring finger that is now ringless.

“Do you like it enough to actually take it?” he questions, hoping she would get the hint now where this is heading. She blinks at him a little puzzled but it’s until she realizes that his fingers are fidgeting with her ring finger, more specifically where a ring would sit on it, his fingertips gently caressing the skin around it.

“Harry?” she gasps with wide eyes as she just watches his grin grow wider. “This is not… Are you--?”

“What?” he chuckles, feeling entertained how she lost all her smug confidence all of a sudden. “What’s it that you’re trying to say?”

“No, what is it that you are trying to say?!” she snaps back, still in shock about what he just implied. “Was this your sneaky way of… proposing?” she asks, whispering the last word as if it was a curse word.

“Why do you act like we have a forbidden love and marriage cannot be even mentioned?” he chuckles at her.

“Because I was shocked! Not that bad now though, you haven’t pulled out a ring so I guess it was just a cruel joke.” She narrows her eyes at him, kissing his smug grin shortly, but Harry is definitely not done with her just yet.

“I wouldn’t be that sure about it, baby,” he warns her before gently pushing her off her lap to get off the bed. Flora’s eyes widen as she follows him walk to his suitcase that’s still lying on the floor next to his dresser, waiting to be unpacked. He digs under his clothes before pulling out a small velvety box, making her gasp immediately. Harry gets back on bed as he holds out the box in front of her on his palm, not opening it just yet.

“Did you buy that in New York just this week?” she asks with her mouth hung open.

“I didn’t. I’ve had it for about a month, I just took it with myself because I was afraid you’d find it,” he chuckles as he plays around with it between his fingers. “Have been planning on it for a while, but I couldn’t come up with anything so then I just decided to wait for the right moment and go with the flow,” he explains.

“And this is the right moment?” she questions, her heart beating in her throat as her gaze is switching between Harry’s green eyes and the box in his hand.

“Felt like it, yeah,” he nods, the corners of his mouth curling up.

Silence settles between them as they both just wrap their heads around the weight of the moment. Harry’s heart flutters in his chest, a little afraid it’s too early. They’ve been dating a little over two years now, marriages have been tied way earlier in a relationship before, but Harry feared Flora would feel it too rushed just yet, however the question is out there now. Or is it?

“Well, are you gonna ask it?” she questions and as Harry’s eyes flicker up to meet her gaze, he is met with that playful challenge in them that he adores so much.

“I just asked,” he mutters.

“No, you asked if I would take your name. That’s not a proposal,” she reminds him and he realizes she is right. He never actually asked the big question.

So he finally pops the lid open revealing the vintage diamond ring he bought a month ago when he was just out and about. The moment his eyes laid on the jewelry, he knew it’s the one he’d like to see on your finger and bought it right away.

“Floortje Hoven, will you marry me?” he simply asks, his dimples digging deep into his cheeks as he smiles widely at his lover.

“I will,” she nods, her heart hammering in her chest as she watches him take the ring out of the box and carefully put it on her once empty ring finger. Still holding her hand, he brings it up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the ring before leaning in he connects his lips with hers.

-

Thank you for reading! Please like and/or reblog if you enjoyed!

[onlyfortheplot]

Joke? You ARE the joke!

➳ Pairing: Kuroo Tetsurou x Fem!Reader

➳ Synopsis: 

“The Earth is flat.“ you said, emotionless. He looked at you like you were the stupidest person in existence. “And the Sun is a planet. Water isn’t a liquid. Plants can—“

“Sorry!“ he screeched, covering his ears at your ridiculousness, “I’m sorry for pouring the water on you. Just stop.”

➳ Warning: Slight language

➳ Word Count: 1.4K

A/N:

I had a writer’s block and I just watched my neighbor fall I cackled. And this is what came out. Hope you guys like?? Asks are CLOSED, but I’m most likely going to open them tomorrow, since Shiptember is coming. Anyway ENJOY! <3 ALSO. @omiswhore​ and @applepienation​ THANKS FOR GETTING ME OUT OF THE BLOCK. (ɔ◔‿◔)ɔ ♥

“Open the damn door,“ you kicked door, irking at the muffled laughs from behind it, you sighed, slamming a fist against it. How dare they. This was the second — no third time you had been locked out. You pounded the door, muttering threats under your breath as your little brother let out a cackling laugh.

“Let. Me.In.“ Each word was a kick to the door. “Or I’m telling mom!“

“Or I’m telling mom,“ he mocked, as you kicked the door harder. 

“I’m older than you, you pea brained idiot.“ you huffed, sliding your pulsing hand down the door. Oh god. This was the worst. Not only did your clown of a brother lock you out, but you didn’t even have your phone. You groaned.

In fact that’s what you had ran back for. Your stupid phone that you had left on the windowsill of your room. You sighed, as you backed away from the door.

You hadn’t wanted to go out, or even leave your room. It was a new house, a new neighborhood. There wasn’t really anything you were excited for. Sure, you would be going to a new school in a few days. And sure, maybe going out and meeting new people might make high school more bearable. And, in your defense, you had tried to get to know your neighbor. But, that didn’t turn out as planned. 

You could still feel the chilling water, stroking your spine and running down your shirt. You shivered. 

“Go away, sis. Mom said too.“ You could hear the loud stomping as he scurried up the stairs. Probably to play video games. Lucky bastard. You huffed, crossing your hands over your chest as you stepped into the chilly air.

It wasn’t cold, or at least nothing she wasn’t used too. It was sunny, the sun streaming into your eyes, blinding you. But, it was windy. And you in a very thin sweater, were not lucky.

“What are you doing outside?“ you turned to side, a black-haired boy gave you a confused look. “In that.“ You huffed, turning your body towards him as he dropped the plastic bags onto his porch.

“I got locked out?“ you chuckled, he gave a lazy smile, “You?“

“Just some errands,“ motioning to the bags, “You wanna come in?“

You nodded appreciatively, walking towards him.

“Uh,“ he fumbled with his keys, “You don’t happen to be new.“ It sounded more like a statement than a question.

You gave him a teasing smile, “No, I’ve just lived under a rock, that’s why you never see me.”

He chuckled.

“New, huh, its an odd time to move,“ he offered, as he finally opened the door, “Ah finally— where did you move from?“

“From Miyagi— Do you need help?” you asked, gesturing for the bags he was carrying, “You’re inviting a stranger in, I might as well help.“

“One, I’m good,“ he said, flexing his muscles, “Two, you’re not a stranger. Not really.“ You smiled.

“Oh, and why is that,“ you batted your lashes. It was odd, you felt comfortable with him. Someone whose name you didn’t know, yet face you recognized.

“What’s your—“

“Kuroo Tetsurou, what in the gods name took you soo long,“ Oh well at least you have a name. He — Kuroo — looked at you sheepishly as he shook of his shoes, bending down to neatly place them to the side. You followed. Lingering as he stalked farther into the house.

“I’m home, pa!“ he shouted out, placing the bags on the table. 

You looked around in awe. It was such a neat and tidy house, barley anything was out of place. It was so unlike their own house, boxes still in need of opening, and litters of package paper in random corners of the house. 

“Neat.“ you muttered to yourself as you watched Kuroo’s back. Something about him was oddly familiar. 

“Tetsurou, did you kidnap someone?“ Kuroo looked at his father incredulously.

“Pa, this is our new neighbor. Y/N,” he motioned to his father, “My dad. Pa, Y/N.” It was a short ,an almost useless introduction. Certainly it was not enough for his father, who peered his eyes at you.

“Aren’t you the little lady, my boy poured water on?“ You gasped. So that’s where you had remembered him from. You whirled around, glaring at him.

“You never told me it was you,“ you accused him, he held his hands up.

“Its not a conversation starter,“ he exclaimed, looking from his disappointing father, to your accusatory glare.

“And throwing water on me is?“ you held your hips looking at him, “I almost got sick because of that.”

He fumbled on his words as he rubbed the base of his neck.

“Well, I made it up to you. My taking you in after you got locked out.“

“That has nothing to do with you pouring water on me.“

“It does!“ You raised your eyebrow, urging him to continue, “Ah,see, I helped you to build your immune system. Every time you almost get sick, your immune system gets stronger. So you can be healthier. It was a very basic study.“

You peered your eyes at the crap.

“Says who,“ you asked.

“Me.“

“Are you a scientist now?“

“No. But,“ he scrunched his eyebrows, looking for a reason, “science is science. No matter who says it.“

“The Earth is flat.“ you said, emotionless. He looked at you like you were the stupidest person in existence. “And the Sun is a planet. Water isn’t a liquid. Plants can—“

“Sorry!“ he screeched, covering his ears at your ridiculousness, “I’m sorry for pouring the water on you. Just stop.”

You grinned at your new found power. 

“Are you sure about that,” you said, a playful glint in your eye.

“Yes!” he hissed, uncovering his ears, “Yes!”  

“Are you two done?“ You both turned around, remembrance of the old man coming back to you. Blushing, you gave a low bow, apologizing. Good lord, it was your visit and you had already embarrassed yourself.

“Ah, sorry, sir — I mean Mr. Kuroo. Mr Kuroo sir,” you stumbled over your words, flushing harder as both Kuroo and the old man laughed at your antics.

“Don’t worry, L/N, he’s just old.“ he teased his father, who gave him an annoyed glance over, blatantly ignoring his comment. He leaned back in his chair, lifting a newspaper in front of his face, but you had caught the slight grin.

You smiled at that, looking to Kuroo who gave you an odd look.

“Miyagi, you said.“ he hummed thoughtfully, scratching his chin. You looked at him. Why was he thinking of what you had said minutes before, “Are you perhaps from Karasanou?“

“Yes, how did you—“ you gasped, realization hitting you. You had recognized him from, “Are you the one who Tsukishima complains about all the time.”

“Complain?“ he dramatically clutched as his chest, “I taught him the ways of a wise man and he complains about me.“

You rolled your eyes.

“He called you ugly—”

“I’m handsome to a fault.”

“And annoying,”

“I am a saint.”

“And rude.”

“I am always kind.”

You gave him an incredulous look, narrowing your eyes. 

“He’s right.” you concluded, “You are annoying.”

“I second that,” the old man called out, as Kuroo turned to him,betrayed.

“Pa, why would you — “

“Sir, how did you deal with all his complaining?” you interrupted him, instead looking at his father.

“He was such a good boy back then.” he sighed, at the thought of Kuroo’s younger days, “So quiet. But, look at him now.” 

“All talk, no bite.”

You laughed, as Kuroo glared at him.

“Pa, how could you betray me like that. And to a stranger.” he wiped fake tears from his eyes.

“Stranger?” he raised an brow, “Is that why you talk about her all the time.” You didn’t laugh this time, looking at Kuroo, who looked like he was going to explode.

“Pa!” he shouted, turning away from you, “Stop talking — “

“No, Mr. Kuroo, please do tell.” you grinned mischievously.

“Lets see,” he had propped the paper in his lap as he held five fingers up.

“He talks about pouring water on — “

“Pa.”

“And he talks about you never leaving your room,”

“Pa!”

“And he talks about you singing in — “

“PA!” he shouted, hands waving all over the place, “Stop, please!”

You cackled at his disheveled figure.

Oh this you could get used to.

“No, sir, go on, I want to know about him,” Kuroo whipped around to you a warning sting in his eyes.

Oh you would really love this.

The old man laughed, as he crossed a leg over another, leaning farther into the chair.

“It all started on an uneventful evening — “

“PA!”

[musicallisto]

♕ — 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐞 𝐬𝐨 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝; (anya x f!reader)

summary: “Well! What you need right now is a little bit of spirit-lifting. And I know exactly the medicine.”

prompt: “How long as it been since you’ve slept?” song: dodie - Would You Be So Kind | 𝄞

author notes: my entry for @locke-writes ’ 1.5k writing challenge, and also my first time writing for anastasia! I hope you all enjoy this <3 (i don’t know how to say this but anya is dani and reader is jamie from thobm i don’t know why it makes sense but it does). I wrote this in second person at first then changed my mind and switched everything to third, then changed my mind again so if you see inconsistencies in the pronouns, that’s why (lol i’m a mess)

word count: 1.6k features: a bit of sad Anya, but mostly fluff; singing and music. this is really not my best writing but i’m rusty and overworked so please don’t insult me

𝐎𝐇, 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐎𝐑 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃.

“Who is your great-grandmother?”

“Queen Victoria...”

“Who is your great-great-grandmother?”

“Erm — Princess Victoria of Saxe-Coldburg-Saalfeld!”

Through the beaten mahogany doors, Anya’s attempts at ladyship have been reaching your ears all day. Enthusiastic in the beginning, they have grown progressively more frustrated as the night has swollen, and your friends’ demands with it. There’s little in courtly life, you imagine, that Anya hasn’t tried her hand at yet.

Oh, the poor child indeed.

“Your best friend is...”

“My little brother Alexei —”

“Wrong! Your best friend —”

“I know who my best friend is!”

The outrage in Anya’s voice is almost as palpable as the bitter cold in your room, adjacent to their rehearsals; you can’t help looking up from your book at the closed door, as if it could tell you how to avoid the collision threatening your group. You grit your teeth, both in empathy and apprehension.

“What a temper!”

“I don’t like being contradicted!”

“That makes two of us!”

“Continuing on —” Vlad tentatively interjects, but Anya and Dmitry’s exasperation, even muffled, is clear in their voices. A second more and one of them will snap; although you’re uncertain which of the two short fuses will go off first.

“I’ve had it!”

Ah, so Anya it is.

“I hate you both! I’m sorry that we ever met — I’m hungry, I’m frightened, and I’m only human, don’t forget! I don’t remember anything — get out and let me be!”

“Anya, darling...”

But Vlad’s soft tone, ever the cunning mediator, is not enough this time to alleviate the young woman’s turmoil; and before he’s finished his sentence, raging steps echo in the vast hall, and a door slams — your door, at the step of which Anya stares you down, blinks in confusion, frowns, then lets out a harrowing sound.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N, I didn’t know you were here —”

“It’s alright. You can stay here as long as you want.”

Anya lets out a long exhale, heavy as a storm cloud, and slumps down on the foot of your bed with a resounding thud. Her shoulders crumple over themselves like bruised wings, and silence falls on the vast house.

But you can’t keep your attention on your book for very long — not only because the living story before you, defeated and worn, is much more vibrant and bewitching; also due to the racing of your heart whenever Anya stands near you. From the moment you’ve laid eyes on her, and even through the dust and gloom of your night, she’s kept that same regal beauty to her — something neither tatters nor amnesia can erase. It’s not in a long-lost parentage, you think, but all in the way her soul rustles with excitement at anything new and beautiful... rare are the souls, in Saint Petersburg, that gray skies and red stars have not yet tattered.

“They’re making you go through everything, aren’t they?”

“Heavens, yes! It’s too much, and I just want to go home!”

You set your book aside, directing your full attention to Anya.

“How long has it been since you’ve slept?”

“Maybe before the horseriding lessons — I can’t even remember!”

“Horseriding? Was that before the mazurka?”

“Yes, and before ten in the morning! Do you know the order of arrival for each guest at an Imperial ball? First, the Great Princes who come through the entrance in the Saltykov lane, then the bearers of the Court Ranks...”

“Anya, I don’t think that’s neces —”

“And married women must wear diadems! Is that not idiotic? What if I’m unmarried but don’t want to wear flowers in my hair?”

“I think you have way more important problems than your Imperial headpiece, like breathing.”

As if on cue, she takes a sudden gulp of air, and her reddened face, constricted by irritation, somewhat relaxes; maybe from the oxygen, maybe from the slight, amused smile that has crept onto your lips.

“Why haven’t they trained you to be Anastasia?” she resumes, her mouth now curled in a pout.

“Have you seen me?” you chuckle, all holed clothes and creviced skin, but your eyes loving. “I couldn’t even pass for Anastasia’s dog keeper.” (She can’t tell you yet, but she thinks you would make a wonderful princess, gracious and intelligent; but she blushes at the direction her thoughts are taking.)

“Dmitry could be the dog.”

“What a lovely sight.”

You settle into a comfortable silence, cross-legged together on either end of the bed, as the biting wind howls and claws at the window outside; but neither of you feels the cold. December is long forgotten, glowing dim as an ember, as long as you keep your gaze on Anya’s appeased face, the blush on her cheeks, and the romantic delicacy of her features.

“Do you believe you might be the Grand Duchess?”

Your question is but a whisper, and you fear she might not have heard you, even more so since she doesn’t turn her head to face you; but rather her gaze clouds, immobile in the flickering white light. A mist of melancholy traverses her face. A second later, it is gone, save for the last specks of snow in her eyes that never seem to melt.

“I don’t know. I don’t know anything,” she responds truly, her words equally as quiet as yours.

“Well, for starters,” you pick up, a little louder this time, “if Anastasia had the temper people say she had... you’ve got that covered.”

She chuckles, like the tinkling of snowflakes twirling in the wind.

“She does sound like she was a lot of trouble, doesn’t she?”

“I think she sounds pretty charming.”

But before you can let the silence stretch for too long, and worry to crease Anya’s porcelain skin again, you enthusiastically slap your thighs and jump from the bed.

“Well! What you need right now is a little bit of spirit-lifting. And I know exactly the medicine.”

After rummaging through the mountain of clutter piled in the corners of your room — what in the world are Vlad’s sketchbooks doing here anyw-- Christ, so that’s where that book was all this time! — you brandish in triumph a triangular-shaped instrument, the one you carved yourself in leftover logs, on a particularly freezing night, the one the three of you painted with care until the crack of dawn to keep you warm and joyful.

“Oh, play me something, please!” Anya’s childlike passion engulfs your heart as you clumsily test out the chords. The balalaika is worn and sanded off at the sides, and severely out of tune, but your hands find their familiar places without hesitation, and the sound of the instrument is clear enough for the both of you on an exhausting and windy night.

You pick up speed, falling into a melody you once knew; what fragments you can’t remember, you improvise, and try your best not to grimace; but Anya’s leaning over, eyes and smile wide as though she wants to drown in your music, and all of a sudden your chest has started to sing on its own.

“Would you be so kind as to fall in love with me? You see, I’m trying; I know you know that I like you, but that’s not enough, so if you will please fall in love, it’s only fair...”

Your eyes leave the strings as your voice rediscovers the words, your fingers the notes; Anya, in front of you, nods her head to the rhythm she savors for the first time, her foot keeping time unconsciously. If she ever had a childhood, this is surely what it was made of: soft, loving voices, gleaming eyes, a ray of light on her face, and the irrepressible urge to laugh.

"There’s gotta be some butterflies somewhere, wanna share? ‘Cause I like you, but that’s not enough, so if you will please fall in love with me...”

You’re grinning wide too, now, but unaware of it; all you see is Anya and her joyful brilliance, and you could swear that despite all the weariness in her body and the bruises on her soles, she’s ready to jump around in utter liberation. If only the music descended by itself from above your heads, you think, and you could drop the balalaika to dance with her — a dance she might enjoy, this time, a dance she doesn’t know the steps to!

Soon enough, you start giggling, without really knowing why; maybe from the silly wiggling of the shoulders Anya does, or maybe from the overflowing of light and sun in your chest; and it’s a pain to let out the last words between your uncontrollable laughter, even more after Anya starts laughing too.

“Oh, I like you, but that’s not enough... so if you will please fall in love with me...”

And so, after your grand finale — holding the last note a little too long and a little too high, and stroking the strings a little too fast like a Russian bolero —, the song comes to an end, the notes hanging in the air like your suspended laughter and hitched breaths... and your sparkling eyes lost in the sea of each other dare to hope, for the first time, that something might happen...

... but it doesn’t.

“Thank you for cheering me up,” she pulls back with a sincere smile, and you can’t fight the cruel disappointment seeping in your chest. Of course — you’re still in Saint Petersburg, where dreams have died long ago, and she has a fate much larger than yours. Still, you return the kind smile. She deserves as much; she deserves everything.

“No, thank you. For letting yourself be cheered up.”

The wind is still howling outside the window, but it carries, like an effervescence, the distant music of a balalaika, and you remain hopeful, your hand resting next to Anya’s.

If she would be so kind...

tagging; @softeninglooks @fives-cup-of-coffee (all my writing) ; @bravelittlesunflower @lxncelot @amortensie (musicals)