ShopDreamUp AI ArtDreamUp
Deviation Actions
Literature Text
Hey you,
It's 3AM and I love you. I've loved you from the day I met you, for the first time in the loop of the blistering summer haze of our childhood. In three years maybe it'll be even more, maybe it would be the same, maybe –God forbid- even less, but I'll still love you.
I love your laugh. I love your smile. I love your voice. I love the dimple in your cheek and the curve of your jaw when it fits into my palm. I love your face in general.
I love the fact that you're able to reduce me to incoherence. I love the fact that you take pride in knowing just which buttons to corral me down near a rocky crevice, one step away from launching an avalanche. Am I masochist for liking it, because I love you enough to trust you to be able to keep me grounded? Because I have faith that I could be suspended thousands of miles above ground on a taut rope stretched across the galaxy, but as long as I know you're there I would be safe?
I love how I can imagine you reading this right now. I love that you probably never will, because I don't want you to read this. I want to be the one to tell you all this, I want to be able to look at you when my throat has gone sandpaper coarse and be able to see the light in your eyes, because I know that mine would probably be the same, especially since you're the one reflected in them.
In 10 years, 29 weeks, 3 days and 55 minutes, I will still love you. When I am grey and old and sitting on a rocking chair on our porch beside a lake, I'll smile as I notice how the water glimmers with its own life, as if harbouring a secret directly beneath its sparkling surface and tempting me to reach out to grab it before it slips away between my fingertips. I'll notice how bright the day is. I'll notice that it's warm outside. I'll notice the patter of tiny feet dancing from somewhere inside the house and I'll melt against the chair when I realize that all this magic happened because of you; because you had faith in me when nobody else had; because you loved me when I felt incapable of doing so myself; because you loved me with the tender strength and devotion that brings me to tears every time I think of you because I feel like I don't deserve you.
As soon as I'm done with this letter, I'll be putting it away. I hope that you won't ever find it.
Do me a favour and hang around for as long as I will love you, okay?
It's 3AM and I love you. I've loved you from the day I met you, for the first time in the loop of the blistering summer haze of our childhood. In three years maybe it'll be even more, maybe it would be the same, maybe –God forbid- even less, but I'll still love you.
I love your laugh. I love your smile. I love your voice. I love the dimple in your cheek and the curve of your jaw when it fits into my palm. I love your face in general.
I love the fact that you're able to reduce me to incoherence. I love the fact that you take pride in knowing just which buttons to corral me down near a rocky crevice, one step away from launching an avalanche. Am I masochist for liking it, because I love you enough to trust you to be able to keep me grounded? Because I have faith that I could be suspended thousands of miles above ground on a taut rope stretched across the galaxy, but as long as I know you're there I would be safe?
I love how I can imagine you reading this right now. I love that you probably never will, because I don't want you to read this. I want to be the one to tell you all this, I want to be able to look at you when my throat has gone sandpaper coarse and be able to see the light in your eyes, because I know that mine would probably be the same, especially since you're the one reflected in them.
In 10 years, 29 weeks, 3 days and 55 minutes, I will still love you. When I am grey and old and sitting on a rocking chair on our porch beside a lake, I'll smile as I notice how the water glimmers with its own life, as if harbouring a secret directly beneath its sparkling surface and tempting me to reach out to grab it before it slips away between my fingertips. I'll notice how bright the day is. I'll notice that it's warm outside. I'll notice the patter of tiny feet dancing from somewhere inside the house and I'll melt against the chair when I realize that all this magic happened because of you; because you had faith in me when nobody else had; because you loved me when I felt incapable of doing so myself; because you loved me with the tender strength and devotion that brings me to tears every time I think of you because I feel like I don't deserve you.
As soon as I'm done with this letter, I'll be putting it away. I hope that you won't ever find it.
Do me a favour and hang around for as long as I will love you, okay?
Literature
Proposition
James never really understood the idea of having several damn locks on one's front door. Especially when he needed three separate keys to undo them before even releasing the protection charm above the threshold; today he was too distracted. It had taken him a few minutes to notice that the locks were already undone and dispelling the charm was apparently unnecessary as a familiar voice rang from the inside.
"It's open you know!"
James swung the door open to the sight of his best friend lounging on the small two-seater sofa he had taken from his parents' house as the only thing small enough to fit into the flat. Sirius was grinning at him pr
Literature
Confessions of a Potterhead.
No, it wasn't just a book/movie series for me; it was so much more than that. It was a place I could go to when I wanted to runaway. It was a magical place I could go and feel alive with friends. I could believe in everything, than anything was possible, even when there wasn't any light of hope left. I found comfort and security on Harry's side. I found loyalty and trust in Ron. I learned to be strong with Hermione. I learned to stand up against my enemies and my friends with Neville. Luna taught me that it's completely fine to not be like the others. Fred and George showed me that there's always humor in the most serious situations. Draco l
Literature
Harry and Ginny
It was just as he'd imagined it. That first time he let his lips touch hers. He had spent lots of time dreaming about it, wondering what it would feel like if he was with Ginny, not Dean. He'd spend his nights thinking about her beauty, how her vibrant red hair was so perfect, how her pale skin was so smooth and pretty. About that flowery smell she carried that made him think of pink, blue, and butterflies. It was so perfect. She was perfect.
So now they were by the lake during free period, just sitting and talking. Harry had Ginny's hand in his as he spoke. "How's your day been so far?" he asked with mild interest. He asked how her day was
Suggested Collections
Featured in Groups
...
You know what?
I just don't know anymore.
[EDIT]
According to a friend, she could relate this to some of the Dalton!verse characters too. Well, we could all use some Jogan/Klaine/Rane now can we?
Consider this a massive mash up of all of them <3
You know what?
I just don't know anymore.
[EDIT]
According to a friend, she could relate this to some of the Dalton!verse characters too. Well, we could all use some Jogan/Klaine/Rane now can we?
Consider this a massive mash up of all of them <3
© 2011 - 2024 Syaz-Avyen
Comments53
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
oh, I forgot, I see julian when i read this...