[crowd-applauses]

“Can Confirm” [Daveed x Reader]

Prompt: If you’re still taking request can I ask for a daveed x reader? Where Daveed loses his voice after a show and the reader had to take care of him? Thank you, I appreciate it.

A/N: so it’s been like 20 years since I posted an imagine? I’m sorry my loves, I hope you all forgive me and enjoy this!! xoxox

T/W: having a cold?

A/U: modern

Words: 2539

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

You pulled your coat closer around your body as you stepped outside into the winter snow, rushing to hail a taxi to take you to your workplace. You had been off of work and on holiday for a week, and were excited to get back to your job. 

You were a dresser for a few of the cast members in the musical Hamilton, a job that doesn’t sound all that amazing but filled you with immense happiness. Being that close to the buzzing energy of an acclaimed theatre show made you tingle with excitement every night – and it didn’t hurt that virtually every cast member was incredibly amazing to both hang out with and to look at. You never understood how they could sustain enough energy for a two-hour show, let alone doing it eight times a week. Nonetheless, every member made you feel apart of the Hamilton family. 

You jumped out of the taxi as it pulled up to the Richard Rogers theatre, thanking the driver and giving him some cash before hurrying into the heated venue. You looked up as you heard someone laugh at you shaking small bits of snow out of your hair. 

“Good afternoon, Y/N. Snowing outside?”

“Very observant of you, Lin,” you smiled back, giving him a hug hello and answering all his questions about your holiday, before making your way to the boys’ dressing room to help them get ready for the first show of a two-show day. 

You said a few more hellos on your way down the hall, slowing down as you neared Oak, Anthony, and Daveed’s communal dressing room to catch the end of their conversation.

Keep reading

Piano

Draco took a deep, shaky breath, hoping that Harry wouldn’t notice how nervous he was. He had been struggling with crowds since the war, and the combination of meeting the Weasley’s and the huge amount of people at King’s Cross station made him anxious as hell.

Hundreds of people walked, ran, waited or strolled around the main hall. In the distance he could already see the little coffee shop where the entire Weasley family sat, waiting to go to platform 9¾. The entire corner seemed to have a red glow due to all the ginger haired people gathered in it.

“Dad! I need to go to the bathroom!” Whined Lily.

“Just follow the signs sweetheart, it’s over there I believe.” And Harry pointed at the far end of the hall.

“But what if I get lost? Mom always walks with me…” Lily pouted.

Draco rolled with his eyes and suppressed a smile. The girl was a Slytherin for one hundred percent. Ginny never accompanied her to the lavatory since she wanted Lily to be more independent, and rightly so since she was eleven years old already.

Harry however, always melted for his daughter’s sad pout and cute face and Lily made good use of that.

“Sorry honey, duty calls.” Harry pressed a quick kiss on his lips. Merlin, he would never get used to that feeling. Draco was a complete sucker for Harry’s quick, domestic yet loving kisses. Before he knew it he’d agreed to walk James, Albus and Scorpius to the Weasley’s all by himself while Harry left with Lily.

His eyes drifted to the coffee stand again. There had to be at least twenty five Weasley’s present, even Charlie who didn’t even have kids was there.

“Well then, let’s greet the family.” The family that will be seeing me today for the first time since they heard Harry and I are dating. Draco shuddered at the thought.

Scorpius grabbed his hand and squeezed it. “You’ll be alright dad.”

Sometimes Draco hated that he couldn’t hide behind his mask anymore. It turned out fatherly love, or any kind of love really, destroyed your ability to wear it.

He squeezed his son’s hand back. “Of course Scor. Nothing to worry about.” And he began to make his way through the crowd with three children in tow.

As soon as he came within twenty yards of the coffee stand he knew he couldn’t do it. Ron, George, Percy, Charlie and Bill were huddled together on the side, and judging by the looks they shot at him he was in for a serious talk. A serious “mess with Harry and we’ll murder you” talk.

Draco thanked the heavens when Albus asked “Why is there a piano in the middle of the station?” He pointed at the grand piano standing next to the coffee stand.

“It’s there so people can play it.” Answered an elderly lady who’d overheard his question. “Do you play?”

“No…” Albus shot a sad look at the piano. It was currently being abused by a four year old who seemed to be banging the keys without any real purpose.

“Dad plays!” Said Scorpius enthusiastic. “He’s really good as well. Do you want him to play for you?” Albus’ face lit up, and he cast a hopeful glance at Draco.

“Would you?”

“Of course.” Said Draco for the second time that day, though this time he actually meant it. Anything better than joining the twenty five Weasley’s at the stand, five of whom looked ready to flay him alive.

Albus beamed at him, and took off towards the piano with James and Scorpius. By the time Draco reached it they had cleared the stage for him. The father of the four year old seemed happy enough to pull his kid away from the instrument.

“Can you play something fast?” Asked James. “I don’t like those slow depressing bits.” And he pulled a disgusted face.

“No problem. Fast is my favorite.” Even more so now that the Weasley firing squad was approaching the piano. If he played something soft they might try and talk to him despite the music.

Draco sat down, cracked his fingers for an extra dramatic effect, and began to play.

He started fast, loud and with closed eyes. His fingers danced over the keys and soon enough he had to bite his bottom lip to suppress a smile.

Oh, if his father could see him now…

He remembered vividly how angry Lucius had been when he found out his son, his only son, was playing a muggle instrument.

How happy he had been when he found an old, dusty piano in and abandoned classroom at Hogwarts. The hours he’d spent trying to find tuning spells in the library….

And then, of course, the time his aunt Bellatrix had caught him playing, resulting in a punishment that had nearly turned him into Frank or Alice Longbottom. How even after that he hadn’t quit because how could he give up the only thing that enabled him to make something instead of break it?

He opened his eyes to see a small but growing crowd standing around him, a crowd that was there because of something he voluntarily chose to do. A crowd of people who didn’t know him or his past, but just enjoyed the notes flowing from his blood stained hands.

But the blood had dried up a long time ago, and for the first time Draco fully realised that. He was aware that to these people he was not an ex-death eater or even a Slytherin, but just him. A guy with some talent for playing the piano, who tried to brighten other people’s day a bit by producing a colourful tune.

He quite liked being ‘just him’.

Someone standing behind him brushed a lock of hair from his face. A hand squeezed his shoulder. “I had no idea you could play like this.” Whispered Harry in his ear.

The line almost caused Draco to slip. He was a sucker for Harry’s whispered words as well.

The Weasley’s who had gathered around the piano as well looked baffled when Draco bent his head backwards to kiss his boyfriend. “I still have some secrets left in my closet, after all there’s a lot of room there since my sexuality came out.”

Harry laughed. Merlin he had the greatest laugh.

The man wrapped his arms around Draco as the last tunes from the piano died away. “That was nearly as beautiful as you are. And I’m sorry for abandoning you, I forgot the entire family was coming.”

“Well.” Whispered Draco in Harry’s ear as the crowd burst out in applause. “I think I’ve managed to survive these five minutes without the saviour at my side.”

And after a brief pause he added; “Of course, you still have to make it up to me later, but we have until Christmas for that.”

Harry turned bright red, but still pulled Draco a little closer as they walked towards the others. Draco couldn’t suppress the smile on his face this time. Even the judgemental glances of the Weasley’s couldn’t make him do that.

“Other dad, can you teach me how to play the piano?” Albus nearly bounced out of enthusiasm. Draco nearly did too, this was the first time Harry’s youngest son, the one who had struggled the most with the divorce, had called him dad.

“Of course, other son.” Draco shot a hesitant look at Harry, he didn’t know if his comment was out of line or not. But it wasn’t.

“Congratulations, other dad.” Harry kissed him. “Looks like you’re stuck with us now.”

Somehow Draco found that he didn’t mind being stuck with Harry and his kids.

Not one bit.


Slowly the train started pulling out of the station, taking Lily, Albus, James and Scorpius with it. Draco missed them already.

“Even after everything we’ve been through, it’s still worth it don’t you think? Life?” Harry was blinking against his tears. The departure of even his youngest kid weighed heavy on him, but at least he wouldn’t be returning to an empty house.

“Yeah.” Sighed Draco. “They make it worth it.” And he nodded at the train. James was still hanging from the window, waving at them. “They and you.”

Ron, George, Percy, Charlie and Bill watched as Harry kissed Draco again. Draco pulled Harry close, and together they watched the train disappear out of sight.

It looked like Draco didn’t need that talk.


So I imagined Draco playing Beethoven “Moonlight” Sonata op 27 # 2 Mov 3 but that doesn’t have to be your music for this of course. If you know any other piano music that might fit please tell me I love piano music!

I don’t know if public piano’s are a thing everywhere but here in Holland and in GB they are. It’s basicly a piano where passe by’s can play on to make waiting more fun.

Also I have never been to King’s cross and I don’t even know if that station has a main hall, but  it’s fanfiction, so I don’t feel the need to be geographically accurate, sorry

Sunday Respite - Necromancy: Making Friends

I will be truthful, I have never had a player choose to devote themselves to the dark-arts … in-game, obviously. Well, and out of game. Usually they avoid the venerable school with a distance rivaled only by that given to inconspicuous props upon pedestals in wide, empty dungeon rooms. Perhaps its a dislike of suiting the stereotypical (yet badass) summoner of souls and entrapper of the dead, perhaps its a desire to pursue a more immediately rewarding school such as evocation or illusion. I say bah-humbug to this. If someone wishes to play in my game and hang out in haunted graveyards, chanting ‘til the pale moon sinks beneath the horizon, then I say good on you, pal.

Here are some enticing items to tempt the pure and incorruptible over into the blackest fifth and rotten waste, where mortal pleasures and obsessions are diseases to be cured through the sacrifice and suffering of the pursuit of true knowledge. Unlock that fascination, surrender to the whispers, take our hand and join us beneath the cloaking shadows of the dungeon walls.

Hooded-Cowl of the Antler

A warm and well-made cowl which tussles and dances in the midnight winds. A beautiful inner of amber weave gleams like torchlight under the absorbing darkness of the exterior; empty as sorrow, lonely as a blackened tide washing over barren shores of ancient bones and tattered flotsam. The collar ties loop together over the chest around an iron ring, and the hood obscures face and eye from any passing observer. The wearer, upon command, can pull forth from the speechless depths of the earth a great, prideful stag of ashen bone and gleaming frost. It howls out onto the wilderness and slowly lowers its head toward its master, offering a ride upon its icy spine. The stag can run as fast as any horse, living or dead, and can outrun a jackal pack over open ground. It leaves behind a path of frigid air, with pebbles and stones lathered in peeling cold for hours beyond its passing. Those unfortunate enough to cross this trail risk having their blood lock in their veins as they idly step through its trail.

Hangman’s Gift

This decoration is a rotten, gnarled length of thick rope, tied around the wearer’s neck with a clubbish knot hanging below the chin. The trailing fibers are frayed and sliced to wire-thin strings. This necklace, or sorts, is worn by those who have survived executions and certain death through one means or quite another. The gallows aren’t suited for them, and many executioners recognise such a symbol; one of an untouchable status. This man should be dead. Whilst the Gift is adorned, the wearer doesn’t require food, water, nor even air to survive. They live on through the worst that life can throw at them, and much beyond that.

Motley Neck-Knife

The Motley blade is a tidy-little throat slicer. Its a short, silver blade, barely an inch long, secured upon an ivory grip. Its sheath is that of a simple, black leather with a crude zig-zag stitching around its opening. When the Motley dagger earns its name and separates a man from his life with an abrupt, yet precise, infliction, that same body that dropped not two seconds ago jolts back to its feet at his killer’s side. Most guards have seen a murder in their time, so corpses scares them little. Some have even witnessed petty undead, so a shambling body upon its twisted ankles and bloated joints is nothing to panic over. But none had seen the smiles that the Motley carver grows over its victim’s lifeless mugs. Certainly none had heard the screams of the dead men inside as they watched in horror, helplessly passive as they see their own, empty forms stride forth towards friend and fellow alike with a feral madness burning in their bloodshot, and crow-pecked eyes.

Dead-Shot Arrows

These arrows are made of human bone. Their feathered ends are human hairs, the shaft is a carved femur, and the head is a incisor tooth, carved to a needle’s edge. They feel heavy to hold in mortal hands, like all of the goodness in the world and your head bleeds out onto the floor as you level it upon your pale palm. The munition is said to be made exclusively from the skeletons of priests and paladins from wherever they may be found. No-other would do, clearly. For when you test the wrath of the divine you may as well go full-in. Why not desecrate the holy dead? That query becomes difficult to dispute once the arrow meets a target. The arrow stings like a wasp swarm, digging out the skin, itching the blood like the veins are full of sandpaper. Then the victim’s bones begin to creak like heavy timbers under a sea storm, bending and twisting in horrific pain. Then they splinter and fracture through skin like porcupine quills as the bones begin to pull themselves out of their flesh.

Pipes of the Grave

A lonely city-bard may perchance these wooden pipes of birch and green leather in a lonely shop window on a lonely street they have never once walked. The shop-keep promises through yellowed teeth and dry lips that the instrument is as perfect as a true-lover’s kiss, bringing true emotion to any tale told with heartful passion and intent: a memorable performance if there would ever be one. The bard may yet further be intrigued at the low price, and may further yet buy them with a smile gleaming with the thought of gold and silver coins aplenty. The performances that she plays will sing like mountain cries and wail with forlorn hopes, echoing through every generation’s ears, bringing both youth and elders alike to rapturous applause. The crowd is crying, only not in joy. They scatter like woodlice as the lush grasses of the city park grounds split open into raw dirt and clawing fingers, as the generations lost before join in on the celebrations, tearing their rotten hulks up from the ancient graveyards buried and forgotten below. His performance ceases, and the dead collapse into piles of bone. She discards the instrument, destroys it perhaps, and she returns to her original flute. Unfortunately, once the Pipes have been played, the curse it contracts is not so easily gotten rid of, and the dead will rise wherever she sings.

Enjoy

Pixie x

12/2/17

Club Soda and Whiskey

Characters:  Dean x reader, Sam

Summary:  Dean meets reader at a rock show.

Word Count:  3317

Warnings:  Language, sex, slightly angsty 

As aways, feedback is welcomed and appreciated. Tags are at the bottom. There is still room on my new Forever Tag list! Add yourself here

Originally posted by bringmesomepie56

Club Soda and Whiskey

Sipping your drink, you sit on the stool at the bar. As far as venues go, this one isn’t too bad. It smells of beer, but not in a funky, sweaty man and stale cigarette kind of way. It’s not smoky and the crowd seems cool. The band has played in far worse conditions. Like that time at that dive bar in LA. That was a night that you’d never forget. A biker gang had decided the middle of the set would be the perfect time for an all out brawl. One thing was for sure, there was never a dull moment to be had.

You fiddle with the slice of lime garnishing the rim of your glass while you watch the crowd. A tall, handsome man threads his way through the crowd. He’s rugged and sexy, broad shouldered. You notice by his gait that he’s bow-legged. He sidles up next to you at the bar and gives you a broad grin. Damn, he’s one good-looking son of a bitch. Probably a total douche, though. Most of the guys you meet in these clubs are.

Lifting a finger to the bartender, the man says smoothly, “I’ll have whatever she’s having.”

You stifle a giggle as the bartender replies, “You want a club soda?”

The light catches his eyes as his lips turn up into a grin. They are a brilliant shade of green. He chuckles, “Scratch that. I’ll take a whiskey.”

The bartender nods and turns to pull a bottle off the glass shelf. Tall-and-handsome turns to you, extending his hand. “Hi there, I’m Dean.”

“Hey,” you respond, taking his hand and grasping firmly. Christ, he’s strong. “I’m (Y/N).”

“Have you seen this band before?” he asks casually.

“Yeah, I’ve been to all their shows.”

“Wow, that’s dedication! I’m just in town for a few days and thought I’d catch a show. I’d never heard of them until today.”

“Well, Dean, you are in for a treat,” you say, smiling up at him. Dean looks just past your shoulder and you turn to see the hulking form behind you. It’s Clint, head of security for the band. Clint is big and looks menacing, but he’s a teddy bear at heart. Clint leans and whispers in your ear and you nod in response.

“Sorry, Dean, that’s my cue. I have to get going”

“Wait…are you with the band?” Dean asks.

“Uh, yeah…I’m the tour manager,” you reply.

“Really? Awesome!”

You give him a wave and start to follow after Clint, before turning back to Dean. “Hey, what do you say to a backstage pass?”

“For real?” The expression on his face is like a kid in a candy store. “Man, I’d love that. But I’m here with my brother…”

“What’s his name?”

“Sam.”

“Okay, when you find your brother, go talk to Clint. He’ll be to the left of the stage. Give him your names and he’ll bring you backstage.”

Keep reading

Capable of Anything

cr. @ask-seokjinnie

on Ao3

Jungkook’s a snitch. He’s not proud of it, but he’s not ashamed of it either. It was convenient and easy to get information for coppers Taehyung and Seokjin. Easy money.

At least, that’s what he thought until he gets pulled into the seedy underworld of vaudeville speakeasies by the one and only man-eater with the angelic voice, Park Jimin.

Is it your first time with BTS? Welcome to Bangtan Sound.

Keep reading

Lost in Tanslation

AN: Based on a request from @tony——stark. This is my first request piece so sorry if it’s bad. *I was wondering if you could maybe write a seb x reader fic where the reader doesnt speak english, like she speaks romanian or something and seb always has to translate for her and the marvel cast asks if he finds it annoying or something, also can it be kinda angsty and fluffy*
Sorry it’s short xx Genre(s): Fluff, lil angst


You were a Romanian actress. Now that was fine, except the fact that you only spoke Romanian. And you were working on Avengers:Infinity War with only one Romanian speaker. Sebastian Stan. You had developed a good friendship with Sebastian since you were constantly around him but at the same time insecurities tore away at you. The longer you were with Sebastian the more you felt like you were a burden to him. Your English wasn’t great but you heard what people were saying about you when you were walking around the set.
“She’s such a pain to the cast.”
“Surely they could have chosen a better actress who actually spoke English as well.”
“Y/N must be such a burden to Stan, I mean she follows him around like a puppy.”

However, you had thick skin and pushed all the comments aside thinking that if there was ever a major problem the cast would confront you about it. But then there was one evening that pushed you past the limit.
You were doing your workout in the gym, practising the fight sequence for the scenes tomorrow when Robert and Scarlett walked past talking with Anthony Mackie.
“The women must be such a pain for Stan, though. She can’t do anything without him if it involves other people.” Robert was saying and Scarlett made a noise of approval.
“She just kind of hovers. Lizzie and I were going to invite her out for girls night but then we realised Seb would have to come to so we didn’t do it.”
“It must be hard for her as well though, not being able to talk to us without him.” Anthony backs you up and you made a silent note to thank him as you listened carefully.
What most people didn’t know was that since joining the cast, you had started learning English to surprise them. But now it all seemed pointless. The cast didn’t like you anyway by the sounds of things. Tears threatened to build up in your eyes as you silently ran from the gym, the other actors not even noticing you. You didn’t stop until you were on the floor of your trailer, kneeling by your bed and ugly sobs were tearing up your throat. Your mascara run in thick rivers and clumps down your face, dripping and staining your white sports top beneath your face.
More comments swirled around taunting you in your head. Some not as polite as others but all were derogatory towards you. At some point you must have crawled onto the bed because that’s wear you woke up the next morning curled up in the duvet with Seb banging on the door.
“Y/N!” You dragged yourself out of bed, duvet still wrapped around you, and opened the door.
Instantly Romanian rolled off his tongue. “Come on, let’s go for cost- Y/N what’s wrong?”
“Apparently I’m a pain to the cast and I just hover around you like a puppy. You can go without me.” Beginning to push the door closed you turned around but then Seb stuck his foot in the way.
“Y/N, look at me.” He stepped into your trailer as you curled up on the bed. You didn’t look at him but he continued anyway.
“You’re not a pain to me or the cast. I don’t mind having to translate for you because it’s like having a slice of home with me all the time. Please never think that I hate translating for you.” By now, Seb had wrapped you in his arms. You were quiet for a moment relishing his hold around you.
You took a deep breath. “I am learning English.” You said it perfectly and you couldn’t help but let a small smile come on to your face at Seb’s shocked chuckle.


“I’m proud of you, Y/N/N.” Seb whispered in your ear. The cast was about to do one big Q&A and they were all still oblivious to the fact that you were now almost fluent in English. Seb had been a gift from God when it came to helping you with the language late at night in either of your trailers. Smiles made their way onto your face more and you were proud. Tonight was the night you were going to take control of your own answers and say them yourself.
The questions were flying in and soon came your big moment.
“I have a question for Y/N. What’s it like being surrounded by people who don’t necessarily speak your language?”
You glanced at Sebastian and he nodded encouragingly. “To start with it was quite hard but I had a great translator but then I decided to learn English to keep up with conversations.”
You looked around as no one spoken. “I did get that right, didn’t I?” Sebastian burst out into laughter and scooped you up and swung you round as you laughed as well.
“You did it!” You were laughing and high-fiving as the the crowd roared with applause.

Revenge Dance

Group: BTS

Pairing: JUNGKOOK X READER

Excerpt:  “ Now all he had to do was have you begging for him back so he could apologise, and he knew your weaknesses.

Genre: angst, BBMAs au

Length: 1k

A/N: i saw a jungkook thigh appreciation post and whoops my hand slipped..

Up tomorrow: JIMIN ( click here for the complete BBMAs masterlist )

Originally posted by the9397


“All you care about is your image,” you threw the bracelet he had bought for you at his hard chest, it bounced off with barely a flinch from him, “your music, your dancing, yourself!” You pulled the promise ring from your finger throwing it at his face before someone wrapped their arms around your torso to stop you from doing anything else.

Jeongguk stood there before he ran a hand through his hand aware you wouldn’t listen to anyone when you were this angry, before looking you straight in the eye, “You just had to pull the shit right before the awards?” You pulled against the arms restraining you, hands balling into fists, getting ready to punch his devastatingly sharp jaw so hard it would shatter.

Keep reading

Imagine Chris thanking you in his speech.

A/N: Hi hi, I’m back from my hiatus. I didn’t really plan for a hiatus, I’ve just been busy with work and suffering from a bit of a writer’s block. (You can tell I’m still suffering a little because this one’s kind of a mess) Anyhoo, this is a request from @shadowprincess0218. Hope you enjoy it. X

“Oh God,” Chris mumbled under his breath when Jennifer Lawrence finished her speech. You glanced over at your husband, whose hand was now adjusting his tie as a nervous tick. “My category is next,” he said to himself then swallowed the lump in his throat.

“You’re going to be fine.” You assured him, placing your hand on his knee and giving it an assuring squeeze under the table. “Stop fiddling, you’re going to mess up your tie.” You told him but his hand remained on his tie, adjusting and readjusting.

“Why aren’t you nervous?” He raised an eyebrow, glancing at you before focusing his attention back on his perfectly fine tie. “It’s your screenplay I directed, it’s your work on the line too.” He reminded you and you chuckled. “Martin Scorsese won best director for your last screenplay, what if I don’t win one for this one?”

“You will because you’re an amazing director, you wouldn’t have gotten a nomination if you weren’t. Stop, Chris.” You chuckled softly and wrapped your hand around his wrist, pulling his hand away from the tie that he would not stop adjusting. “No matter how many times you adjust that tie, you’re still going to be nervous. Just-” You slipped your cool, dry hand into his clammy one. “Hold my hand and breathe.”

“But my hand is all clammy.” He told you as he tried to pull his hand from yours, only to have you tighten your grip by entwining your fingers with his. “Right,” he chuckled softly, “you don’t care about that. Thank you,” he pressed a kiss to the side of your head and you smiled.

“Let’s move on to our next category, best director.” Your dear friend and husband’s co-star, Robert Downey Jr.- the host of the 89th annual Academy Awards- started. You glanced at Chris when you felt him tense in his seat next to you. “Please put your hands together for Scarlett Johansson and Jeremy Renner, two people I’m proud to call my friends, to present the next award.”

The crowd erupted into an applause as Scarlett and Jeremy walked out, they hugged Robert before stepping in front of the podium with the golden envelope that had the information that could make or break yours and Chris’ heart. You weren’t all that concerned about your screenplay getting best director, you were more concerned about your husband getting it because he was an amazing director who deserved all the recognition in the world. Now it was your turn to fiddle; your hand reached for your clover necklace which you wore whenever you felt you needed the luck, and you definitely needed it now. You knew your husband was very talented but talent wasn’t always what got you an Oscar; Leonardo DiCaprio had incredible talent but he only had one Oscar, you could only hope Chris wasn’t as unlucky as Leo.

“And the nominees for best director are…”

You lost focus on Scarlett’s voice when you heard Chris mutter, “I feel sick.” You turned to him and chuckled softly, giving his hand a light squeeze. “I know it’s nerves but- I genuinely feel like I’m going to throw up. Can you do something to distract me?”

“I could kiss you but I’m afraid you’ll throw up in my mouth,” you told him and he chuckled. “Just keep your eyes on me, focus on my touch, and match my breaths.” You instructed and he followed. “How did you manage award shows before me, Christopher Evans?” You teased him and he chuckled again.

“With great difficulty.”

“And the best director award goes to…” You and Chris turned to the stage as Scarlett opened the envelope. Both her and Jeremy’s smile reached their eyes and you felt your heart skip a beat. Could it be? Was Chris’ name inside the envelope? “Chris Evans!”

Applause and cheers broke out around the two of you. You knew what had just happened but Chris was still in a daze, only realizing it was his name that was called when you pulled your hand away to give him the standing ovation he deserved. He rose to his feet and hugged you tightly, kissing your cheek and whispering an “I love you” in your ear before making his way to the stage.

“Good job, Dorito.” Robert patted him on the back as he walked past.

“Congratulations, Chris,” Scarlett passed him the Oscar then hugged him tightly.

“You deserve it, man.” Jeremy smiled and shook his hand before leaving him to his speech.

The crowd settled and you sat back down as Chris took the podium, he looked at his award then looked out into the crowd at you with a wide smile. You felt tears well in your eyes out of pure adoration and joy for your husband; he was finally getting recognized for something other than his good looks. He was very handsome- there was no doubt about it- but he was so much more than that which was why he enjoyed directing; directing got people talking about his talent rather than his physical appearance.

“Wow,” Chris began speaking and the crowd fell silent. “This is incredibly surreal. I always thought that I’d only ever be up here to present an award, never in a million years did I think I’d get a nomination- let alone a win. I’m incredibly grateful for this opportunity so thank you to the Academy.” The crowd clapped. “And now for the more personal thank yous. To my mom and dad, for giving me the chance to pursue my passion. To Anne, my agent, who got me the jobs that brought me here. And of course, to my beautiful wife, Y/N, who has only made my already wonderful life better with each passing day.”

You smiled and wiped away a tear that fell unknowingly.

“Without you, sweetheart, my life and all of this would be meaningless.” He told you and your smile widened. “You give me all the support and love I need to get through each day and- I just- I wouldn’t be here without you.” He glanced at his Oscar then chuckled, “like literally because she is the reason I had a movie to direct in the first place. Without your talent, I wouldn’t be able to apply mine and I wouldn’t have this Oscar so- from the bottom of my heart, thank you. Thank you for being so talented, thank you for trusting me with your work, and thank you for being the light in my life. I love you, Y/N.” He said and smiled when you mouthed the same three words back.

The music started playing which gave Chris his cue to make his exit and return to your side. “Aren’t they just the cutest?” Robert teased as Chris disappeared back stage with Scarlett and Jeremy. “You should see them when we have them over for dinner, with their heart eyes and their hands all over each other.” You shook your head at Robert, biting back your smile. “Congratulations Chris, and Y/N. Your screenplay got him best director, let’s see if it gets you best screenplay,” he reminded you of your nomination and you suddenly felt the same nerves Chris did earlier. “Let’s move on to the next category, shall we?”

Your nerves disappeared and you redirected your attention when Chris returned; he wrapped his arms around you as you wrapped yours around him. “I told you you’d win,” you whispered as you pulled away. “I didn’t marry you for your good looks, you know.” You teased him and he chuckled, dipping his head to kiss you ever so tenderly on the lips.

“I know,” he whispered when he broke the kiss, “you married me for my Oscar.”

“Like I need yours when I have three at home,” you poked his side and he laughed.

it’s obvious // josh dun

requested by an amazing anon 🌌

“Josh, please refrain from eating anymore Oreos, you’ll be sick halfway through the show,” you teased the yellow haired boy as he continued to scoff down the cookies backstage. You had to shout to be heard over the screaming crowd outside, which had been chanting both Josh and Tyler’s names for the past twenty minutes.

“Just a couple more,” Josh pestered, jutting his lower lip out and frowning. You laughed at his puppy eyes attempt, before grabbing the blue packet of cookies out of his hand.

“Not far, Y/n,” he joked, before running towards you. You quickly turned your back on him to make it harder for him to grab the treats. Josh collided with you and you felt his arms wrap around you from behind, his fingers inches away from the packet. You screamed as Josh attempted to tickle you, and you quickly turned around to playfully push him away.

But as soon as your eyes met his, you both stopped moving. Josh’s arms were still loosely wrapped around you, and your chest was pressed up against his as you tried to regain your breath. The two of you couldn’t stop staring, and your mind raced with the thought of how long you’d dreamed of a moment like this with him.

“Ahem,” you heard a cough coming from the doorway, and both you and Josh jumped from fright. You spun your head around to see Tyler leaning on the door frame, a smirk evident on his face. You quickly stepped away from Josh, and he coughed awkwardly to break the silence.

“Josh, we’re going on in five,” Tyler said, his eyes staring at you mischievously. You frowned at him, before walking towards the door and pushing past the brown haired boy. Josh remained in the dressing room as Tyler ran after you.

“Well?” Tyler asked when he caught up to you.

“Well what?” you said loudly.

“Well, it’s been three years and that’s the best you can do?” Tyler said. A smile had worked it’s way onto his lips, and you knew that what had just happened at lightened his mood.

“We can’t be sure he likes me, I can’t just go making moves whenever I feel like it,” you replied, and you felt your stomach sink a little. Tyler was quick to notice, and he pulled you into a warm hug. 

“I’m pretty sure he likes you, alright,” Tyler whispered, and you felt tears beginning to form. You gently pushed Tyler away and forced a smile onto your face.

“You’re supposed to be going on now,” you said quietly, and Tyler’s eyes widened.

“Oh, yeah, we’ll talk about this more after the show,” Tyler said quickly, before spinning on his heels and racing down the corridor. You wiped your eyes hastily before setting off to find a seat beside the stage somewhere.

***

The crowd was extra rowdy tonight. The room had been over packed, and the atmosphere was sweaty and hot. But the crowd seemed happy, as each person screamed every lyric that Tyler sang. It began to quiet down when the end of Oh, Ms. Believer faded away, and you bit your lip as Josh took a plastic bottle and drank some water.

“I love that song, it reminds me so much of Josh’s crush on Y/n,” Tyler spoke loudly, and you felt your stomach drop. The crowd burst into applause and your face turned a bright shade of red. Josh’s face copied yours, and he stared at Tyler confused.

Tyler just smiled and started to play the chords to the next song, and without question Josh reluctantly followed. Your heart was pounding, and you were begging for the show to finish so you could shout at Tyler.

As the show finally neared the end you decided to return to the dressing rooms. It was much cooler in the aircon, and much quieter. You needed time to be alone. You sat in a chair in the corner and pondered over the embarrassment of Tyler’s words.

The dressing room door opened and you quickly stood up. Josh’s figure strode into the room, and he stared at you with a look of dismay. You looked into his brown eyes and felt your heart pounding again.

“Josh…” you whispered, having no reason to mutter his name.

But before you could speak another word Josh walked over to you and cupped your face in his hands, attaching his lips to yours. Your eyes were wide with surprise as he kissed you, and you quickly shut them to immerse yourself in the moment. You heart hammered in your chest, and you reluctantly moved your hand to Josh’s chest, where you could feel his heart beating even faster than your own.

“I should have done that a long time ago,” Josh whispered, as he pulled out of the kiss and lent his forehead onto your own. His hand were still warm as they continued to cup your cheeks, and you rested your chin into them. A small smiling was dancing on your lips as you spotted Tyler leaning in the door frame, a large smirk plastered on his face.

The Best for Last | Klance circus!au

This is the first time I’m writing in a long time -and the first time I write about Voltron-, so please bear with me if it’s not the best, I tried ;; also, English is not my first language, so if you see any grammar mistakes please point them out and I’ll change it ASAP! Also, thank you to @salamandraimoral​ for letting me use her !au for this, you should go check her amazing art ♥

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Baby Do You Love Me (Sebastian Stan)

Summary: Another “Baby Do You Love Me” but with Sebastian this time! Shaking things up slightly, but it’s a little similar. Feat. Civil War cast x

Words: 732

Warnings:

Baby do you love me is a game where you have to go up to someone as ask “Baby do you love me” and the other person has to reply “Baby I love you but I just can’t smile” without smiling or laughing. Enjoy x

Originally posted by ohhseby


Robert loved a good party for any film release and it was paramount every key cast member turned up. You, Scarlett, Elizabeth and Emily all turned up together, with short, casual party dresses donned on you all. Scarlett’s makeup was a true masterpiece and the rest of you marvelled at her beauty. Being Scarlett, she was very modest about the whole thing, commenting her makeup artist and commending the rest of your makeup. Eventually, as you all turned up to the party together, Chris, Sebastian and “Mackie” all congressed over to you, informing you all about the group over in the corner. Robert, Paul, Don, Tom, Chadwick and Jeremy were all conversing over the bar table, sipping on the vodka sodas, Tom only having a lemonade of course. “Should we go over?” asked Chris, pointing over and leading the way, taking Scarlett’s hand with Mackie coaxing Elizabeth and Emily, one each in hand. “Should I?” asked Sebastian turning to you, holding out his hand. Already flattered and internally panicking, you leant onto his hand, him walking you over as if you were royalty. “Are we made of china now?” you laughed, turning to see him smiling gleefully, his eyes squinting. “Aha, possibly. I gotta say though, I’m not exactly great at this posh kind of stuff.” Sebastian replied, looking to you in response. “And you think I am?” you laughed, joining the rest of the group.

Most of you had settled down now, sitting around, lounging on chairs and the odd hammock. You sat with Scarlett and Emily, Elizabeth deciding she would sit with Jeremy who she was newly friends with, because of the film. Just leaving his conversation with Sebastian, Mackie arose from his seat, about to propose something to the group. “In on honour of this glorious film, how about a few rounds of Baby Do You Love Me, and we’ll see where the night takes us?” chanted Mackie, winking to Sebastian cleverly before turning back round to the group. “We make a film and to honour it you want to play that?” laughed Robert. He was right, it didn’t really make any sense, but it was Mackie, so it didn’t have to. “And? You’ll love it! Come on, I’ll go first!” he pounced, wandering round the circle until he arrived at Sebastian’s feet. It was obvious they would both attempt to play it on each other, as they were the mischievous ones on set. You had to admit, Sebastian was super cute, especially when he got a suited up, and it worked wonders on your imagination, but you had to keep that at bay. Within seconds, before Mackie had even begun the phrase, Sebastian broke out into a perfect laughter, his eyes scrunched up.

As he circled the group, your breath hitched as he neared you, passing slowly and breathing out in relief. For a split second, you thought you were clear, and you wouldn’t have to deal with the embarrassment; that was until he turned back around. Smirking blissfully, Sebastian neared you and stood directly above you. His smile was perfectly beautiful… almost masterfully crafted. Taking a short, sweet intake of air, you prepared for the round. “Baby girl, darling, sweet cheeks, pumpkin pie, cupcakes and cream and a cherry on top…” he began, already sparking laughter from the rest of the group. “Do you love me?” he asked, kneeling down before you, small sincerity in his tone. “Baby I love you but I just can’t smile,” you replied, nibbling on your lip to distract yourself from smiling. Instantly, Sebastian pounced onto your lips, a subliminal warmth cascading over you. Pulling away and biting your lip, he smirked miraculously, knowing he had you round his finger. “Don’t bite your lip like that, it does stuff to me…” he whispered, repetitively glancing down to your bottom lip. “Fuck it,” he crashed onto you, feeding a hand through your hair and standing up to get higher over you.

Gasping for air as you broke away, you panted, “Baby I love you, but fuck it I smiled,” Giggling, you melted under the purity of his eyes, glancing around the group to see them all standing up and clapping. You shied away slightly, retreating behind your hands and ducking your head. “See, I said it was a good game,” he whispered in your ear, turning back round to the crowd of applause.

Little Arrow

“Little Arrow” is based off this dream I keep having of our beloved Daryl Dixon. I decided to write it as a short story, though I may continue it as the dreams continue (if they do).

Daryl acts like he may finally be ready to take this ‘relationship’ to the next level, but then he tells you a heartbreaking reality.



  • Daryl Dixon
  • 1015 Words
  • No warnings that I know of
  • I am writing this at 3am so excuse how poorly this is written <3 I may rewrite eventually~

You walked up to the neighboring house of Alexandria. Rick called a meeting for the morning once Negan’s men had left yesterday, claiming over half of the rations this time and taking a couple of your people. Luckily, they hadn’t caught sight of Daryl, who was just coming back from Hilltop for a quick visit.

The chatter was loud, even with the door shut. You didn’t want to walk in, knowing that this meeting was the meeting. Rick would split all of you up, keeping you as far from them as possible, seeing as Negan and his men clearly knew you were a little too close to the escapee.

Deep in your own thoughts, you missed the shadow of a man standing on the far end of the porch, at least until a low growl escapes his lips and you were forced to spin around, hand on the knife strapped to your thigh.

Daryl stepped out of the shadows and raised his hands in the air, giving himself in. “Jus’ me. Though I been injured by everybody but you.” He joked.

You dropped your hand and shook your head, a smile hint of a smile playing on the corners of your lips. “I figured you would be halfway back to Hilltop after yesterday.”

This time, Daryl smiled. He shook his head and some little brown hairs fell into his face, causing him to squint just a little bit more.

“Ready to head inside?” You asked him and rested your hand on the doorknob.

“Wait,” Daryl nodded to the spot he was standing two minutes ago, and walked back over, taking his position.

With a little confusion plastered across your face, you follow suit and stand beside the man. He’s digging around in his pocket, finally able to find what he was in search for.

He pulled out a rectangle, black box. “I saw this and I…. Jus’ open it.” He thrusted the box into your hands.

“Daryl…” You looked at him warily before taking the box and staring at it for a moment before you decided to finally open it, a gasp passing your lips as you noted the small necklace inside. “Oh my…”

“It’s an arrow. See?” Daryl peered into your hands and pointed at the little object. “’cause you’re my little arrow.” He beamed and you felt your heart melt. ‘Arrow’ was always his nickname for you, since the day the two of you met.

You had never seen Daryl this excited about anything—in fact, you couldn’t remember seeing him feel much of any emotion. It was a nice change, and you hated that after this moment, you two would most likely have to go your separate ways.

“It’s beautiful.” You tilted the box so the necklace fell a little more in place. It was a beautiful arrow with a stone of your favorite color in the middle. It was either very sweet how he remembered, or a huge coincidence. “Can you…?” You motioned to the piece of jewelry and Daryl carefully took it out of the package for you.

You spun around, pulling your hair to the side so Daryl could easily slip his arms around you and clasp the necklace around your neck. You could feel his breath on you; it was warm and you had to admit, you wanted more.

“Thank you, Daryl.” You look over your shoulder at him, giving him a big smile and assuring him this was the best damn present you thought anybody had given you. “This means the world to me.”

And it did. You and Daryl had been flirts toward each other for months now. It was apparent that you two had something between you, but Daryl was too shy to ever act. In fact, any time the others would bring it up, Daryl quickly left the room or he would turn bright red and refuse to speak to anyone for a week. You thought maybe the flirting was all in your head. Until he was taken by Negan.

His crooked smile appeared on his lips. It was adorable how his sky blue eyes never left your eyes. Not to be cheesy; but you wanted to soar away in them, get lost. You cherished those moments you could stare into his eyes and imagine the two of you running away in a normal world.

A normal world would mean you wouldn’t have to worry about men such as Negan wandering through the gates at any minute, threatening to take the one person you cared about. Those few weeks without Daryl were the worst, you had no intention of going back into that deep, dark hole.

Daryl turned his head and this mask draped over his face instantly and his shoulders tensed up. “I’m leavin’.”

Immediately, you knew what was about to happen. Another argument. “Okay. As long as I’m beside you.”

Daryl snapped his head up, although he avoided eye contact this time. “Negan is on the lookout for me. I ain’t gonna be the reason yer caught too.”

He wouldn’t understand. “I don’t care about that. You can’t be out there on your own, Daryl.”

“If anything ever happens to you…” He choked up and turned his head away. 

Without much thought, you grabbed the man by his cheeks and kissed him.

Before the walker infestation, you would watch romantic movies. They all told you the first kiss was meant to be “magical” and fireworks were supposed to go off around you. Some even told you there would be an ‘awe’ from the crowd or an applause.

This kiss was so much more than any of that. Magical didn’t describe it enough.

Daryl hesitated, but only for a brief second before his hand clamped on the back of your neck, throwing himself into the kiss. You stumbled back a couple of steps until your back hit the railing, steadying the two of you as the kiss became a little too clumsy, but still sweet and full of passion; a passion only a man neglected of the word all his life could give.

Ceremony

Part Five: Draco Malfoy x Reader Imagine Series

Part One HERE
Part Two HERE
Part Three HERE
Part Four HERE

MASTERLIST

Summary: It’s the night of the ceremony, but needless to say the night does not go as planned.

Word Count: 5,849

Warnings: Reader getting her drank on, slightly self-destructive behavior and quite a bit of tears, strong language, allusions to sex (nothing explicit), DRAMA ™, testosterone, and angst, and a far too adorable Draco Malfoy

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Engagement- Prince Adam

Originally posted by until-the-last-petal-falls

Pairing: Prince Adam x Reader

Characters: Prince Adam, Plumette, Mrs Potts, Chip, Cogsworth, Lumiere

Warnings: There are no warnings but I would like to thank @neverlands-little-lost-girl for translating the dialogue into French for me. Thank you so much x 

Request: N/A

Word Count: 912

Author: Charlotte

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No Payne No Gain

PHOTOGRAPHY: James White
TEXT: Paul Flynn

 

Last year LIAM PAYNE had a conversation with Justin Bieber. He doesn’t usually do this sort of thing. There’s a shop Liam frequents in Los Angeles. Whenever he sees one of Will Smith’s kids or a Kardashian he feels too self-conscious to introduce himself. “There’s still that little boy inside of me,” he says. With Bieber, it was different.

Like each of the select bands who go through their boy-to-man rite of passage in full public glare, Liam at 23 is a disarming mix of confidence, knowledge and conviviality wrapped up in a frightened canary let out of its cage. Sometimes he’s the boy at the bus stop. Sometimes drops in reflexive anecdotes about his dealings with Donald Trump. No one understands Bieber’s experiences with quite the same clarity on quite the same timeframe as Liam and his four One Direction buddies.

“Obviously [Bieber]’s struggled a lot through the way the world looked upon him,” Liam says. “I don’t feel sorry for him,” he continues, “he’s great guy, inside there’s a really good heart. I said, look, the difference between me and you is that I had four different boys going through the same thing to look to. He didn’t have that.” Quite out of character, Liam Payne reached out a hand to his peer. “I said to him, listen, take my number and any time you want to have a chat, let me know because I’m here and I understand exactly what you’re going through and I understand your world.”

It was a lovely thing to do. “He needs somebody like that and in that position,” he qualifies, placing himself deferentially into the third person. It’s sweet for other reasons, too. In Bieber there is something of the idiosyncratic otherworldliness of a Michael Jackson figure. Liam Payne, a pretty, straight talking lad from Wolverhampton appears at first not to be that thing at all. “There is that in all of us.” he avers, meaning not only Bieber but his fellow One Direction alumnus Zayn Malik, Harry Styles, Niall Horan and Louis Tomlinson. “We all have this chaotic side to us. You know, they say that anger breeds passion. I think that’s the same with a lot of us, that we let things get chaotic very quickly. We’re used to chaos.”

Liam is sitting in a quiet antechamber above the photo studio where today’s cover story has been shot. He says he likes interviews and honours the assurance in a quietly riveting half hour before he’s whisked magically away. It’s Friday evening. Liam has been working out with millennial precision to make sure he’s at top physical condition should he be required to lose his shirt during the shoot. He’s whippet slight flesh, definition counts.

Six years ago, One Direction came third on the national TV talent show, the X Factor. 1D was an assembly-line operation pieced together audition stages. Boys that barely knew one another, slotted seamlessly together in the kind of multi-demographic hit their boss Simon CowelI so adept at plugging into the national grid each year. That year, Liam and his bandmates Niall and Louis looked like they’d been schooled at a premium boyband academy. Each sported variants of Bieber’s early slideover haircut. It was easy to imagine any of them taking a stool in Westlife or learning to breakdance for Take That, had they been born in another time and place. Within the trio there was a safe place in which teenage girls and boys could measure their sexuality, whilst tapping their toes. That wheel still turned. Flanked at either edge of the three were genuinely new angles for the British boyband model; Harry Styles, Cheshire’s own reality-age Mick Jagger and Zayn Malik, a practising Muslim from Bradford and nonpareil physical work of art to whom supermodels have since flocked. The five together hit enough familiarity and newness to open up a global fame haul not touched since the heady days of Duran Duran, Culture Club and Wham back in the 80s. During the summer of their astronomical American takeover there was a plausible touch of Beatle-mania. They felt like an England football team winning the World Cup. Their records have sold in North Korea.

Liam and the boys were the first band to taste that fame level in the age of social media, making their story simultaneously that of the boys next door and untouchable messiahs. There was something refreshingly undone about them. Their best songs, ‘What Makes You Beautiful’, ‘Little Things’, ‘Steal My Girl’, even the precociously titled ‘Best Song Ever’ are undeniable additions to the Great British pop cannon. Liam says the 1D song that he’d buy above all others is 'Once In A Lifetime’, the little known track from their 2014 album, Four. “That’s my favourite song. Very Coldplay-esque. I wanted it to be a single but they just wouldn’t have it. It was very relaxed the way we chose our records and made things. It was really simple.” Someone else did it.

When 1D lost their X Factor trophy to semi-hot handyman Matt Cardie and were beaten to the silver medal podium by classy Scouse songbird Rebecca Ferguson, Liam was 16. He had auditioned for the show pre­viously, at 14, as a kind of minipops Michael Bublé, Wolverhampton’s hitherto unseen swing angle. On his first induction to the X Factor factory, he was instructed by producers to go home and rethink his shtick as the last 24 were whittled down on TV. He says it attuned him to the hard knocks of rejection. Such was the omnipotence of the show back then Liam’s audition storyline was enough to grant him a local working men’s club career where he honed his skill and paid his dues.

“I did pubs and clubs.” he says. “When I was a kid, I literally played old people’s homes.” His one taste of what was to come arrived when the Wolverhampton Wanderers FC invited Liam to sing before kick-off at the Manchester United fixture to 34,000 fans in the terraces. In honour of his local team’s squad colours he sang Sam Sparro’s 'Black and Gold’. “It’s funny that that’s where we ended up, playing stadiums,” he says, with pleasing air of pride and bemusement. “It was funny being stood in the middle again and thinking back on that 16 year old boy stood in the middle of a football pitch. My dad said to me, this is going to be the toughest gig you’re ever going to play. Football fans do not want to hear little boy singing. They’re not interested. You heard jeering from the crowd. But I got applause at the end. And my dad said, that is the best thing you could’ve got out of today.”

Liam says he can’t remember much of his time in the X Factor house second time around bar the tears. He was recently delighted to see fellow housemate Page Richardson, the contestant Louis Walsh immortalised as looking 'like a little Lenny Henry’ on account of nothing but his colour, in a Harry Potter film (“the one where it’s Dumbledore’s army. He’s actually in the army, which is amazing. I’m absolutely obsessed with Harry Potter. Fucking love Harry Potter.”). He nods as I mention some of the other names he shared his first home away from Wolverhampton with. Katie Waissel, Diva Fever, Wagner. “There were a lot of different strange characters and lovely people through that show. It was very rushed and strange.”

On account of a childhood kidney condition, he had not even been drunk by the time he left home, Dick Whittington style, to live in a shared London house with a bunch of strangers maniacally chasing their fame dream in real time. “The famous line my dad said was. don’t come home until Christmas, meaning don’t get thrown off it before the final. And after I said goodbye to him that day. I never really went home again.”

When 1D lost, Liam turned to his dad with a “we made it this far” face. His fellow band-mates. he says, were in pieces. He remembers first Harry, then Louis, Niall and Zayn bursting into tears. “A cameraman came over and said 'can I get you boys for an interview?’ and I looked at all the boys crying, in their mum’s arms and I was like, 'look, I’ll do the interview’ because I was the only one who was alright and so I went off to side and did the after-camera interview for us. I just left them because I wanted them to have their moment and the cameras didn’t need to see them like that. There was a real atmosphere. This followed throughout our career a lot of the time.”

In Cowell’s dressing room later than same evening, 1D were told that they would be signed to his label, Syco regardless of their position on the show. “Simon took us up to his dressing room to tell us he was to sign us and Harry literally burst into tears he was so happy.” Emotions run high in boyband land. “He told us. I’m going to sign you. That was the moment. That’s where it all began.” The wheels of the juggernaut had begun to turn. “It was like a bomb went off”, he notes.

There was a pearl of wisdom shared by Cowell that stuck with Liam from that high-stakes evening. “The first thing he said to us after signing us from X Factor was 'look, there are no angels here.’ Which is so true.” What does Liam think Cowell meant by that? “That we’re all people. We all people here.” He doesn’t think it was an invocation of mistrust in music industry, the smoke and mirrors world of real life fame? “No, no, no. It was a moment in a conversation. He said 'look, there are no angels here and I know that you’re all going to make mistakes’. That’s what he was saying. Just get on with what the show is, do your bit. do your business, go to work and be real. That’s what that comment meant. Don’t stress about it, it’ll all turn out alright in the end.”

In that moment, it sounds like Liam Payne made a pact with himself go for it regardless, at the top tier, to claim his moment. “Everyone strives to be the person that they want to be.” he says. “I try too much sometimes, I think. I overstep the mark a little bit sometimes. That’s why I’m such a perfectionist. But sometimes I think you have to believe that are no angels.” The first One Direction single, 'What Makes You Beautiful’ was released in 2011, on September 11th.

The second half of 2016 was an eventful time for Liam Payne, presaged by his signing a solo record deal with Sinatra’s old imprint Capitol Records on July 21st.

While in 1D, he says all five boys dabbled on their own material. Because boybands never break up anymore, 1D are officially on sab­batical. Whether that translates as a bit of genial respite or full scale hatred for one another is a matter that’s been carefully blended into their tale with just enough leaks of a hint to either. Zayn, who had already fled 1D’s nest a year earlier, missing their victory lap worldwide stadium tour released his solo album Mind of Mine last spring, reinventing him­self as the Frank Ocean for Unilad readers. Niall played to his Irish card with a forgettable busker-ish ballad for the Christmas market very much carved from the mould of Ed Sheeran and seasonal John Lewis adverts. From the snippet of it we heard. Liam’s song sounded like his ascent to manhood, touting him as a moody, roustabout lover-man in something of Drake’s lineage, complete with street lyrical touches (while writing, a picture appears on Liam’s Instagram feed of him with the Canadian don though it’s not specified whether he’s working or partying with his hero)

Whenever Liam talks about the 1D boys he has the exact same dad-ish air of concern, care, amazement and slight separation from the operation that Daddy Barlow has with Take That. Oh, that’s the other thing Liam had kicked off the year with a new belle, The X Factor’s Queen of Our Hearts, Cheryl Tweedy.

Liam brings up Cheryl, of course he does. The two live in Surrey, out of the city. When I make a joke about him being Lord of the Manor, he says that his sister bought him a plaque to denote his Lordship for his last birthday, a joke that doubled when it turned out Cheryl had been bought a similar gift by Simon Cowell during her tenure on X Factor. “So we’re Lord and Lady, which is hilarious.” To British suburbia, this is of course precisely what they represent, a self-selected aristocracy in which we’ve all played a part in the honours system.

He says things with Cheryl are working out well, becoming temporarily misty-eyed. “This is the thing. In a non-cliché way, it’s weird waking up every day and literally living out your dream. You wake up in the most beautiful places. Obviously I have the most beautiful girlfriend if the whole world and she’s absolutely amazing. She’s been my drean girl since I was younger. She’s so ace.” They are used to companionship. They have Liam’s dog, Watson, a Great Dane. “If I’m ever having a problem or I ever get a bit angsty about something that’s happening in life then I take the dog out for a walk and there’s just unconditional love from him. Anyway, I don’t want to go too much into that. I’m not like a weird dog person.”

“She is a wonderful, wonderful person and it’s amazing to have someone who can relate to so much of things, someone who’s taken greater steps than me. Her solo career was amazing. She’s been in the industry for fourteen years now. She fully supports me. We’re super happy. I appreciate you didn’t ask about it. It’s a very personal, precious time for us. I’m still learning. I’m only 23.”

Because he is the youngest of three, Liam inherited the bed that his big sister’s had slept in at home in Wolverhampton. He tried to paint a wall blue to put his own stamp on the room, still shaded by bunny rabbit curtains into his teenage years, and ran out of paint before finishing. “It was a total tip.” he says of the last bedroom he lived in before fame. “That bed was so old. The last time I went back and sat on it I couldn’t believe it was the bed I used to sleep on. I often think about how I used to sit on the windowsill and just look at the stars and wonder what this was all for. And I often used to think, there must be more to life than this.”

I ask if his parents kept the room the same as when he left. “Well,” he says, interrupting the nostalgia with a little sharp reality, “I bought my par­ents a house so I haven’t actually been back to that room in a long time. I’d like to.” The experiences of 1D made five men very rich, very young.

Liam knows exactly his financial worth. “I do,” he says, letting out a nerv­ous laugh. I ask if I would blush if I saw his bank account. 'Honestly, it is a very scary thought.’ he says. “It is not something that we were given it’s something we worked our asses off for. The way we went to work every day and the way we travelled the world and the way we conducted our business, with great management at the time and greater minds, it turned out great for everybody. But it was a long five years.”

On the last night of the last 1D tour, management presented all four remaining members with a plaque festooned with little badges for every single gig they’d played since their first. “It was a sombre night.” says Payne, who has started becoming more emotionally transparent in front of other people this last year. “To see every show we’ve ever done on a plaque?” he says, raising eyes to the sky. “Again, everybody was in tears. And I’m quite good at holding it together but I have got a lot worse of late. Adverts and things mate me cry. I think I’m getting more emotional as time goes by, especially with everything that’s happening in my life at the moment. It’s a very emotional time and time to reflect on a lot of things and the person that I am to be. Do you know what I mean? If that makes sense?” It makes perfect sense.

Beneath the extraordinary life he has lived so far, outweighing every one of his personal, societal and geographic expectations, there’s a deeply admirable humility and candour to Liam Payne. On the subject of his forthcoming record: “l’ll tell you the truth. The dream was to be able to get signed and release an album. That is every musician who’s on Youtube’s dream today. I’ve got the opportunity to work with a really great label, Capitol. The people I work with are absolutely amazing and to get a record deal and be able to release the album that I want to release is the most amazing thing ever.” He has no idea how it will fare. “Even if this went tits up, sideways, it’d still be step one that I got here.”

Liam Payne never voted in a general election. “I’ve never been able to vote,” he explains, “because we’ve always been in different countries and I’ve never really understood it. I still feel like a 16 year old boy when it comes down to things like that and I wouldn’t know which way to go.” He steered clear of the EU referendum (“I kind of knew that we were going to Brexit. It was just a gambler’s feeling”) and doesn’t know how his parents voted in it.

Do you want to know his Donald Trump tale? Of course you do. 'Oh. here’s a story,“ he says, rubbing his hands. “Trump actually kicked us out of his hotel once.” It gets better. “You wouldn’t believe it. It was about [meeting] his daughter. He phoned up our manager and we were asleep. He said 'well, wake them up’ and I was like 'no’ and then he wouldn’t let us use the underground garage. Obviously in New York we can’t really go outside. New York is ruthless for us. So he was like, 'OK. then I don’t want you in my hotel’. So we had to leave.”

He’s seen a lot of life, has Liam. That he retains himself amid it’s spectacular credit to those around him and the man himself. “Now he’s President,” he says, perhaps for a moment reflecting on the opportunities life affords the most unusual candidates. “I just hope he doesn’t kick me out the country.” He’s laughing now. “I hope he lets me stay.”

Source: x

Ride or Die: Leonardo x Reader

WARNING: NONE

Requested by: @llturner7

I have a request and I hope it’s no bother either. Can you do one where Leo finds out his girlfriends secret Hobbie. Like maybe she does illegal street racing, cause her dad was a race car driver and it soon became something of a passion for her to follow in her dad’s footsteps. Only the race she got herself into was something that went from everything being okay to something bad went wrong. Based on the 2016 version

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