purple and gold shirt

“Is That One of Mine?”

Another Harry blurb. Hope y’all like it! Xoxo.

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You saw it in the store and you absolutely had to get it.

It was a silk shirt that was a dark, royal purple, with a gold pattern that swirled and decorated the entire stretch of material. You saw it in the window of a little vintage store on your walk earlier that day. Harry was in the recording studio, and once he’d woken you up with kisses that morning before leaving because he “had to get some lovin’ in,” you had a hard time falling asleep. So you decided to go on a walk and get a relaxing start to the day. But when you saw that shirt, it screamed “Harry.”

Harry’s fashion sense was one of the things that initially attracted you to him and you’d gotten into the habit of wearing his clothing throughout your relationship. You were especially a fan of the pink shirt with white polka dots he wore during the iTunes Festival performance, one that he’d eventually just passed down to you. You were also known to wear his white silk button-up, as well as all of the many flamingo shirts that he had sported, and you even had laid claim to a couple that had never been worn outside the house. It was a running joke the two of you had that he always had to be buying more shirts because you eventually stole them all.

That day when you got back home Harry still hadn’t finished up at the studio. He’d sent you a text that he’d be done in an hour, but you knew that an hour for Harry while recording meant three hours, minimum. That was okay with you, though. As soon as you got home you changed out of the shirt you were wearing and into the shirt you’d purchased, doing up the buttons and leaving the top few undone just like Harry did, revealing hints and flashes of the black bra you had on that day. It was a men’s shirt so it was big on you regardless. You slipped off the pair of jeans that you’d been wearing that day and padded over to look at yourself in the full-length mirror in the bathroom.

At first it looked and felt a little bit strange—usually when you wore something like this you could sense and smell Harry all over it, and it brought you comfort and safety, but this one was solely yours and had no traces of him. You turned slightly to glance at your backside in the mirror before rotating the other way, repeating the action a couple of times, the shirt just long enough to cover the matching black panties you’d chosen to wear that morning. If you were being honest, you knew that half the things Harry wore were attractive to you simply because Harry was the one wearing them. But the longer the garment rested on your figure the more it grew on you, if only because you were excited to see your boyfriend’s reaction to it.

You remained in the garment as you walked around the house and did little things to keep you occupied, like read through the mail you’d gotten and put the dishes away that had been loaded into the dishwasher the night before. Eventually you ran out of tasks to do and began to read a book on the couch, glancing over at the clock on the wall every once in a while, waiting for Harry’s return.

Eventually, when you heard the keys jiggling in the lock across the hallway from the room, your lips couldn’t help but tilt into a smile. You waited for him to open the door and walk in, his voice filling the air with life and light.

“Where’s my girl?” He called out in a jolly tone, which meant that he’d had a good session. It sent a wave of happiness through you to hear—he was rather nervous about doing this solo album, even though you reassured him constantly. 

“On the couch!” You called back to him, gaze still attached to the book that was open on your lap. Shifting a little bit and tugging on the silk that rested on your skin in a fidgety action, you waited as you heard his feet bring him closer to you, and out of the corner of your eye you could see him stop at the entryway and lay eyes on you. You continued looking at the page of your book, acting nonchalant, even though you weren’t reading anything at this point.

“S’that one o’ mine?” You could hear the smugness in his voice already, and he adopted that husky tone that made you feel a certain way. You looked up from your book and he was leaning against the wall with his arms folded over his chest, sporting a signature smirk.

You shook your head and reciprocated his smile, gaze attached to his frame as he pushed himself off of the wall and began taking steps in your direction. “I bought it this morning, reminded me of you.” You spoke casually, as if you hadn’t spent a good ten minutes checking yourself out in it a couple of hours earlier, but the playful light in his eyes caused you to giggle involuntarily.

“Oh, so you were thinkin’ of me, hm?” He teased softly, wiggling his brows up and down in a cheeky gesture, and before you knew it he had plopped himself down on the couch and splayed his body across it to rest his head on your lap. Your fingers immediately found their place in his cropped locks as you massaged his scalp gently, lowering your lips to search for his and press a light kiss to his mouth.

“Always do. Do you like it?” You asked, watching him as his eyes fell shut and his lips remained in the smile that hadn’t disappeared since you laid eyes on him two minutes ago. You loved when Harry was like this—when he was absolutely confident in who he was and what he was doing, when it felt like light and sunshine itself was coming from his body and you would bathe in it forever if possible.

“Love it. I might have t’steal it off of ya one o’ these days. Like right now…” You suddenly felt his hand sliding underneath the silky material which caused a delicious shiver to run up your spine, and it was amplified when his hand cupped the swell of your breast. Your breath hitched in your throat and you didn’t know how even after all this time of being together he could still have you like putty in your hands within seconds. Somewhere between his touch and you trying to formulate a response you felt him slide his hand out from its nestled location, and before you had the chance to complain his hands were on your rear pulling you onto his lap. A small squeak fled your lips and you found yourself sitting with his nose nestled in between the rise of your breasts. 

“I didn’t know you’d like it THIS much…” Your voice came out softer than you intended, and you felt his shoulders shake softly as he chuckled, leaving a delicate kiss upon your skin before tilting his head up to glance at you with so much love resting upon his features that it caught you by surprise.

“I wrote a song about you today,” he explained, nuzzling his nose against your skin gently this time, his smile softening as the mood lightened. His words sent different kinds of chills down your body and butterflies into your stomach, to which you smiled widely and looked down at his features that were now hidden in the material of your new shirt. 

“Really? A song about me?” You whispered, fingers curling around his locks of hair as you looked down at him, waiting for him to look up but he simply remained nestled against your chest. The two of you had started dating after Made in the A.M. was released, which meant that to your knowledge he hadn’t written any songs about you before. And that was fine by you, but the idea of it happening made you feel a certain way that you’d never felt. 

“I did. All about you, babe. S’not finished yet, but that’s why I was so late today. Once I started I couldn’t stop,” he continued, pressing a series of light butterfly kisses against the skin right over your heart which you could feel beating out of your chest, and you were sure that he could feel it too. You could feel tears form and suddenly you hear yourself sniffling, and his head snapped up to look at you as soon as he heard. He chuckled lightly, his large palms cupping your features as you struggled to not cry. 

“Why’re you cryin’, princess?” He spoke softly, handling you as if you were about to break, although within his arms you never felt stronger.

“I’m not crying,” you replied stubbornly, even though you were sure your eyes were watery.

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m not.” 

“(Y/N)…”

You pursed your lips softly, lowering your gaze to the space in between the two of you, and a few moments passed before you felt Harry’s fingers tilt your chin up to look at him again. He waited a few moments, allowing you to process whatever you were thinking, and you could tell that he was a tad worried with the tightening in his eyes.

“No one’s ever written me a song before,” you stated simply, your voice a soft murmur. 

You’d had a lot of bad experiences with men before, many of them either using you and then leaving you or simply not treating you the way you should. And for a long while you’d settled for being alone, until you met Harry. He was already everything that you could have ever hoped for and more, and even though dating someone as well-known as Harry Styles had its downsides, he was always worth it. Especially when he caught you by surprise with something like this. 

“How could I not?” He asked, his palms travelling up your sides overtop of the new garment that you’d forgotten all about at this point. Though you bought it partially as a surprise for him, he had a much better surprise for you. “You’re…I love you, (Y/N). So much that I had to tell the world.”

The simplicity of his words resonated deep inside of you and he didn’t even give you a chance to speak before he crushed his lips to yours in a searing kiss, and something told you that you weren’t going to be doing much more speaking that evening.

The rest of the day was filled with passionate love-making that eventually made its way into the bedroom and resulted in soft and playful whispers in between the sheets afterwards. Harry told you all about his visions for his new album, and you reassured him as always when his nerves began seeping through. They were going to love it, of course they were. It was impossible not to. That day was one of the best days that you’d ever had with Harry, and it all started with a purple shirt. 

A few weeks later you were laying across the bed in nothing but one of Harry’s white t-shirts when he came in practically bouncing up and down with his laptop in his hand, plopping down next to you. 

“Listen to this,” he commanded, and you propped yourself up on your elbows and listened closely as he pressed play. A laid-back guitar intro played and you could see the pride in Harry’s features as you looked up at him, and you couldn’t help but smile as you heard the sound of Harry’s singing fill the room between the two of you, warming every inch of your body.

It was a love song, it was YOUR love song, and you could tell without even asking by the way that he was looking at you. It was gorgeous, it was better than you could have ever imagined, and you were surely going to listen to it over and over but there was one part that stuck out to you more than all the others.

Purple shirts and whispers,

early morning kisses,

I see your tears and wish away every ounce of pain.

And I can’t wait until tomorrow, to do it all again, because it’s you.

It’s only you.

anonymous asked:

If your taking prompts maybe glanni getting some unwanted advances while waiting on ithro to show up for their date or something

I was hoping to get some requests about Glanni or Ithro! :3 Never written them before.

Glanni knew he looked good.

He was wearing his favorite heeled boots, skin tight black pants, and a deep purple collared shirt. Over the shirt was a charcoal vest where a gold watch peeked out of the pocket. His makeup was on point, as always, and his hair was slicked back.

Glanni knew he looked good.

He didn’t need some idiot who couldn’t get a clue to tell him that. Over and over.

“It’s so cold out, beautiful. Why don’t you come to my place and we’ll warm each other up?” The man way saying. 

“I am so close to punching you, you don’t even know,” Glanni replied in a monotone voice. He had tried moving to the other side of MayhemTown’s park fountain but the man had yet to leave him be. And Íþró was late for their dinner date.

The stranger pressed up again Glanni’s side. “I like it rough,” he said, sliding a finger under Glanni’s chin.

Glanni narrowed his eyes, “It was a threat, actually.”

“Kinky.”

“Remove the finger or lose it.”

“Let me impress you with my fingers and you won’t want me to remove them.” 

Just when Glanni was about to sink his own fingers into the other man’s eyes, a voice called behind him, “Glæpur! Sorry I’m late!”

Suddenly, Glanni was pulled back away from the stranger. Íþró held him in a dip and kissed him hard. Glanni threw one leg in the air to stay balanced and wrapped his arms around Íþró’s neck. 

When Ithro pulled back, he and Glanni turned to face the stranger, still holing their positions. 

“Is this man bothering you, Glæpur?” Íþró  asked loudly.

Glæpur?” The stranger looked horrified, “As in.. as in GLANNI Glæpur?!”

Glanni gave him his best shark smile, “The one and only.”

The man made a quick exit after that. Íþró set Glanni upright, glaring after the stranger. Glanni looped an arm around Íþró’s shoulders, “Do you always kiss on the first date?”

“As always, you’re the exception to my normal rules.”

“Mmm, I think I like being an exception.”    

bekneko  asked:

Hello, do you have an outfit reference of Raquel's soccer uniform? I need it because of reasons.

Hey Bekneko!

We actually have not designed her soccer uniform yet, but it’s basically the athletic version of the Arlington Academy uniform, with purple and gold (plus I imagine a ‘C’ on her shirt since she’s captain). That’s what she would wear in official tournaments

That being said, we have planned her outfit for when she’s at a regular soccer practice. Here it is:


Serena, Project Manager

Game Site | Development Blog | Staff Antics Blog | FAQ  | Join the Team

There is a knife decaying in your collection
The blade has a strange ruby tint, rust or blood or emergency light reflections, and the edge is dull, dented, chipped.
You love it anyways, love it like the crops where you grew up liked summer rainstorms, wet dirt, quiet small town, and you, dragged to the outskirts like trash, that very knife pointed at you.
The rain mixed with blood as it dripped off your elbows, your nose, your new red knife.
You put that behind you, and then eventually fell back into that lifestyle, dark as the dirt after a thunderstorm, until people dragged you somewhere brighter, scarlet firecrackers and effervescent gold laughter and loud purple/orange, floral shirts and careful patterns written up arms
You love how broken they are, how they took the slate black world you lived in and turned it into an opal, color misbehaving in the crystal.
It makes you remember that sometimes home is a blessing you forgot to count, that you don’t have to be alone, and there are balconies to grow things on in cities.
There is a knife decaying in your collection, but you aren’t, not anymore.
—  Drip-Effervescent-Opal
{{ for @ssoouunndd }}
New Orleans Mardi Gras Gothic

• Everywhere you look people are wearing the same purple, green, and gold shirt. Men, women, children, infants. All wearing the same shirt. You have never seen this shirt for sale in any store. You have no memory of these people in any other shirt. They have been here forever and they will remain. 

• You bite into a piece of King Cake. You’re met with something solid; you pull it from your teeth. “You got the baby,” your relatives grin, “Now you have to buy the next King Cake.” Their teeth glisten. The baby bleeds in your hand. 

• “Are you going to the parade?” they ask you. “Which one?” you respond. “Are you going to the parade?” they repeat. You have had this conversation before. To answer “no” would ensure your death. 

• You walk down the street and notice Mardi Gras beads dangling from the electrical wires. There are no parades in this part of town. One strand of beads resembles a noose. You keep walking. 

• You traverse the parade grounds carefully and quickly. You only want to get back to your family. You hope the seven years of bad luck don’t apply to walking under parade ladders. You will soon come to realize that they do. 

• You are walking back to your car. Your neck weighted heavily with beads. The bags in your hand grow heavier with every step. Where did they come from? What do they contain? “Good haul this year,” a man beside you comments. You do not know him. The bags in your hands grow heavier and begin to growl. 

• The Canal Side and the Sidewalk Side do not mix. They never have. Hundreds of years have passed and the two sides have never mixed, nor do they meet at any common point. Through brief gaps in between floats you look across the street to the other Side. You see only fog and discarded cups on the curb. 

• You are watching the people on the floats. They are all the same. One lifts up its mask to take a drink. It has no face. It has no mouth. It replaces its mask and continues throwing. 

• The cheering stops as the tractor passes. The man driving the tractor smiles a toothy smile and waves his limp grey arm, but the crowd remains silent. You do not acknowledge the tractor. To do so would surely bring doom. 

Jungkook Scenario: Beginners Luck.

Request:  Hello~ may I have a scenario where the reader and her friends sign up to volunteer at the local fair, and on the day of she meets a boy (jungkook) who’s volunteering as well ^.^ love you guys!

Genre: Fluff


It was something you liked to do, everybody around you knew you enjoyed outdoor activities and a good time of fun, so your friends weren’t really surprised when you grabbed both of their arms and dragged them towards the tiny stand up looking for volunteers to the upcoming fair.

What they were surprised for though was the fact of you telling them to volunteer as well after you finished writing down your name and offering your cute red pen to them.

–C’mon, it will be so much fun– you told one of them and she whined a little.

–But we’ll be working– she eyed the list in front of you and you tried to cheer them up a little more.

–Yes, but it’s better than it appears, I promise, we can help and we can have fun too– this time the second one of your friends took the pen away from your hand.

–Well I’ll volunteer too– she said with a smile and your third friend ended agreeing as well, so at the end the three of you had signed up to volunteer at the local fair, hopefully together and you could feel yourself already anticipating the day. There was just something about fairs that felt so magical and touched the most childish part on you, you simply loved it, the silly games, the fair lights, the joy and laughter in the air, it was just exciting.

A few weeks passed and everything was ready, you woke up early and called your friend while pouring yourself a bowl of  your favorite cereal to give yourself some sweetness to start with your day and agreed to meet with them at the fair’s place after lunch.

You’d chosen an outfit that allowed you to be comfortable yet still look like you put little effort on yourself, so you went for a bright purple and black flannel shirt, skinny ripped jeans, some gold rings, a long necklace with the initial of your first name hanging from it and stylish flat ankle boots, all of that topped with just the right touch of makeup, just enough to get you going through the day and once you were happy with your whole look, you went out to meet your friends.

You were supposed to have everything ready by four pm, all the volunteers were separated in teams to help in every separate stand, your friends were assigned to work together at the wheel of fortune with another guy in charge of making it roll, while you were assigned to watch over the stand target shooting with another boy. There were a few indications said here and there about the things each of you had to do to keep things working properly and then you were off to the stand.

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