a better picture of the poster i made a couple days ago :)

Merry Christmas @watsonofabitch!

I hope you enjoy this :D

Read on AO3

Bad Santa

“Wait, what?” Stiles sputters, spitting Cheetos everywhere. He twists round to stare at Scott, the episode of Brooklyn 99 they’re watching forgotten.

“Secret Santa.”

Stiles gapes. “Seriously?”

Scott shrugs, “I thought it would be nice.”


“Y’know, promote pack bonding or whatever.”

“And you couldn’t have mentioned this earlier?”

“I sent a text,” Scott’s face falls. “Oh, wait, I sent it a couple of weeks back, around the time your phone was broken.”

“Oh my god, Scott. When I didn’t get back to you, you could have e-mailed me. Or skyped. Or written me a letter or something.”

“There were giants, man. Actual giants. I was distracted.” Stiles rolls his eyes, and Scott sighs. “I honestly thought you knew. I didn’t make the connection between the lack of reply and the broken phone until just now.”

Keep reading

Auston Matthews #1 - Prom

This is my first attempt at any sort of imagine/ specific character writing. The inspiration for this prompt came from my little brother going to prom recently and asking his girlfriend in a similar fashion. 

Auston had always been a year ahead of you in school. When he had graduated and subsequently been drafted you two decided to continue your relationship despite the distance.

During one of your Friday night skype calls you had mentioned to Auston that the official theme for prom had come out. The committee apparently had some clashing views so the end result was more of a mix of various classic themes that they hoped appealed to everyone. He had laughed at that and asked, “so when is it?”

“Uh,” you paused and pulled up the calendar on your phone, “Saturday March 4th at 7.”

Auston pulled out his own phone, “perfect. We play Anaheim on the third then I’ll fly down in the morning and be there in time.”

You looked at Auston in confusion, “wait fly down? Auston you’re coming?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I take my girlfriend to her senior prom? Unless of course,” he smiled cheekily, “you were planning on going with someone else. I know that Brandon from the lacrosse team always had his eye on you.”

You rolled your eyes, “Brandon has been dating Thomas for three years and you know it.”

“Alright well, how are you going to ask me?”

“Ask you? Why am I asking you?”

“Well how I see it is that I asked you last year. It’s only fair that since you still go to that school that you ask me,” said Auston like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Keep reading

To Forget

Pairing: Credence x Reader

Warnings: Angst ?? Mentions of abuse, abandonment.

Word Count: 1685

A/N: A little different style than my usually writing but I like it.

You shuffled your feet, the toes of your shoes lined up with a crack in the sidewalk. Glancing quickly up at the warehouse-like structure that loomed so forebodingly overhead, you gripped your suitcase tighter, a shaky sigh escaping your lips. This crack in the sidewalk, you decide, is now the line that separates the house from the rest of the world. Soft light from liquid shadows. The healing warmth of comfort from cold, harsh winds. Predictability from the vast unknown.

You throw your head back, adrenaline coursing violently through your veins. Everything in you was yelling, screaming at you to leave. Turn, walk away now that way you can’t be hurt but your feet were incapable of moving. Impossibly, yet undoubtedly frozen in a single pace in time. So there you were, in front of the building, suitcase in hand, toes on the edge of oblivion.

You chanced a sideways look at your luggage, it’s faded, worn leather and shiny, silver latches glinting at you cheerfully in the pleasant afternoon sunshine. Why you had even brought a suitcase along baffled you. The entirety of your belongings included one hat, a hairbrush, an extra shirt and pants, various undergarments, three pairs of socks and one hundred and forty seven dollars which you kept rolled up in one of the aforementioned socks. Technically you could keep everything you owned in a backpack or hand bag even, but you didn’t own any of those and money was… well money was tight to say the least.

You let your mind wander back to home, or the last thing you had referred to as home in your own mind. That would be Mrs. Tippin’s Home For Lost Children, ironically it had been there when you had felt the least lost in your life.

The day was clear as crystal in your memory, pristine and flawless in some cruel and perverse way. Your mother guiding you hurriedly up the front steps of a building, the soft velvet of her long jacket whispering softly every time her arms brushed against her body, the sharp clacks of her heeled boots, muffled by the thin layer of snow blanketed across the city, your small, naked hand clutched tightly at gloved, limp fingers that didn’t hold you back. If only you had known then, how she would then sheperd you into the old building, yanking her hand from your grasp and nodding towards the woman at the front desk quickly before vanishing out the door again into the cold outside. Maybe if you had known then, instead ignoring the soft, sinking feeling in your stomach and holding out futile hope that perhaps she was just busy and surely she would be back soon, maybe you wouldn’t be so afraid of the building before you.

You massaged your temples, fighting back the bile that was desperately clawing its way up your throat. You had come here with intentions, intentions you still planned to make good on.

It wasn’t easy, in fact it had never been. The easiest time for you was probably time spent with him at the orphanage. Credence. He was the first to talk to you there, the first to actually listen, and the first to care. He had his own problems, of course, those which he would whisper to you gently at night when you were nestled against his side, your chests rising and falling in delicate harmony. He was beautiful in every aspect. The alluring sparkle in his chestnut eyes, how he would walk, his footsteps falling carefully on the hardwood floor, it always fascinated you how he could walk with such grace and never make a sound. And his smile was contagious, when he grinned, you couldn’t help but begin to beam as well your heart pumping not blood, but liquid joy.

If his physicality was attractive his demeanor was doubly so. The way jokes flowed from his lips like honey and how he gazed down upon the world with such curious, childlike awe and love. He was intelligent and kind and most of all forgiving. His ability to forgive, you held higher than anything you had ever encountered. It made him surreal and almost godlike for in a world that you’d found had such everlasting and bountiful supplies of hate, forgiveness was the most treasured crop to grow.

Coincidentally, your own hate was what led you here. You had left your boyfriend after seven years of verbal abuse. It had taken two years and an infinite amount of courage to leave him. You had finally fueled the hate inside, the pure seething anger and despise you felt for him. Often times you had found it difficult to stay angry at him long, soft spoken I love you’s and sweet kisses along your neck always reeling you back in, guilt pressing in from all sides. But this time the guilt wasn’t enough. He had hit you. Of course you were aware that there were others who fell to much more unfavorable circumstances but to you, this was new. Usually he would just yell, his words falling like stones but they had stopped hurting a long time ago. In some sick way it had become the norm, your mind throwing up walls, a thick, impenetrable cocoon. But a cocoon wasn’t enough to save you from his fists and their harsh blows raining down on you finding every inch of exposed skin.

You rubbed, unconsciously, at your neck, what had once been a large, purple and blue bruise had now faded, yellowing. For years to come, you would find yourself rubbing at that spot when feeling attacked or frightened, not a physical scar yet a scar all the same, the man’s hand carved mercilessly into your psyche.

Hate had fueled you to leave in the inky black of night, but hate was also what kept you at the edge of oblivion right now. Hate was painted across this building, draped over it like coarse burlap. It didn’t flow nor was it presented gracefully. This hate was harsh and blunt. The banners hung from the grimy windows and walls of the building advertised nothing but loathing. The New Salem Philanthropic Society. Twin fists rising from the lapping tongues flames, in their clutch, a broken stick… No, you scanned the rest of the posters, all calling for the drowning, burning, and other equally as gruesome deaths of witches. It was a wand.

Magic. You hadn’t seen it or heard of it since Mrs. Tippin’s. Since a certain young boy whisked you away to his room and into his closet and up, up, up onto the top shelf where you sat, the air crackling with apprehension, where you watched as he contorted his face in concentration and a small fire burst into life in his hands.

It was those days that you thought back on so fondly. Those hazy memories of you and Credence as children in the orphanage, that kept you safe at night. Back before you knew what your mother had done to you and about the evils of the world and the hate that ran like blood through the water.

Before you had grown and he had too, no longer a friend but perchance something more. Before one night and he had pulled you into his room and cupped your face gently, his lips suddenly molding with yours. It was quick and just a moment, the most magical you had ever known to this day. And then he went in again, this time not so innocent, this time with tongues moving against each other, sucking lightly on other lips with such giddy desperation that you couldn’t help moaning into his mouth just a little.

And then before the woman and man had shown up, kind smiles on their faces but the friendliness never reached their eyes. They were looking for a child. Maybe a girl, because they’re just so much more well behaved and quaint than those boys. And maybe around fourteen years old because they don’t want too much of a fuss. And so they had you. And they took you away and you didn’t see Credence again after that.

They gave you up a couple months after, apparently a girl wasn’t as meek as they expected, and you were bounced between foster homes and orphanages for four years, each stay never too long, everyone wanted the perfect child, a rental child, one you could take home for a month then return when she ran out of use.

Then you were eighteen and homeless, falling into the arms of the first financially stable man you found, planning to leech off him, slowly sucking him dry of his money before leaving. But it didn’t work out as you planned, things almost never do. He bowed you down, breaking you slowly until you had no resilience left, simply clay for him to mold to his liking, using you and toying with you for years until he couldn’t.

You spent three months seeking out Credence, the first person you had thought of to turn to, the only one you could think of now. You tracked him down, orphanage to orphanage, family to family, then to here. He was inside the building now. You could almost see him.

Had he changed? Maybe he had a girlfriend, a wife, children. A life without you in it. You had no idea. In fact he could have walked past you down the street and you would be none the wiser. It was imaginable that you had never known him at all. He was simply a character in your mind. A dangerously, glorified picture of a person. And it was most likely that he had no memory of you at all.

You pressed your lips together tightly, squeezing your eyes shut tight enough for you to hear ringing in your ears, tight enough to, perhaps, forget. To forget unloving mothers and orphanages and heated kisses in the dark and raining fists and philanthropic societies and large warehouses and cracks in the sidewalk and a boy you knew once, many years ago.

Keep reading

Toshinko One Shot

Author’s Note: More Toshinko! I stayed up a bit too late writing this one. ;__; It ended up a little as a venting piece but I hope that you can enjoy it all the same. This fic is supposed to take place after Chapter 102, so there are some spoilers for the manga here and there.

No title yet, but I’ll hopefully figure something out later when I’m more awake.


Inko had no idea how things had progressed to this point, where she and All Might were on first name basis. But here they were, on one of their ‘parent-teacher meetings’, having tea together at a cafe as it rained heavily outside. The gray day was relaxing, even with the occasional rumble of thunder or flash of lighting. Inko loved the scent of rain and the slight chill in the air felt refreshing. But the rain also seemed to add to the strange mood that seemed to follow Toshinori that day. He seemed more tired than usual and his eyes were completely wrong that day. Toshinori’s eyes were shrouded in the shadow of his eye sockets but glowed like a fire that refused to die. It was a feature about the man that Inko at first found a bit disturbing but ended up admiring.

Over the time that they had gotten to know each other, Inko found Toshinori was more than his frail, haunting appearance would have one believe. At first he was serious and rather awkward but as he opened up to her he became more expressive and friendly. Toshinori lacked the confidence that All Might had but was still optimistic, funny, and charming. He was a lovable mass of unpredictability and contradictions all rolled into one very strange package.

But that day the light in Toshinori’s eyes was barely there, sometimes it seemed to have gone out completely. It made him look more frail than usual, as though he was going to crumble away into rubble and dust. Their conversations weren’t as lively as they usually were. Toshinori seemed to have withdrawn into himself, sticking to the topics of school and Izuku’s progress. It was like being back at square one. Only this time, Toshinori seemed far colder without that fire in his eyes.

Keep reading


WARNINGS: noneeeee :)

AUTHOR’S NOTE: hiiiii @lelewright1234! sorry i took forever on this, i was kind of stuck :( but i hope you do like what i came up with! .xx enjoy, my lil millenials, this one is for you (or us whatever i dont get generations bc apparently im gen y but also a millenial ah lmao) ! ;)

You had met Sebastian at a convention. 

He was immediately taken aback by you. You were gorgeous and so put together. He wouldn’t have known you were such a big fan of his as you were so calm and collected while meeting him. 

He couldn’t take his eyes off of you the whole time you were standing in front of him, making you blush. You made small talk with him while he signed your poster before being shoved away. 

Later that day you went off to eat with some of your friends at a small little deli in the city. While sitting with them and freaking out about the celebrities you had all met, the door opened, sending a small ring throughout the entire place. You looked up and your heart stopped. 

There he was again. 

You felt your cheeks turn hot as you both locked eyes and he sent you a small smirk. Your friend kept slapping your leg and nudging you as she too, noticed his presence. 

Keep reading

Full "Stern" Interview with Mario & Marco

Mr. Götze, how was 2011 for Marco Reus?

Mario: Many goals for his club, avoided the descent with Mönchengladbach, matches with our national team. He can go on like this.
Marco: Oh, national team?! But I was injured most of the time. Now I have to be friendly too: Became Champion, on top with Borussia Dortmund. He even showed great performance from time to time. *smiles*

Are you satisfied with this year?

Marco:  You can always improve, and that’s what we want to do. But I'm satisfied with what I have achieved so far, yes. It should not seems like you would rest, because that’s not true. 
Mario: Yeah, you don’t do this. Maybe our fans feel different about it, but for me as a football player the championship is far away. 

Did your status on the pitch changed during this year?

Mario: I always feel that the rivals adapt to me better than before. 

Does defenders still wispers to you that you have only 5 minutes left?

Mario: *laughs* to live?

Until the next injury.

Mario: I’ve never experienced something like that. 
Marco: You won’t be offended with words on the pitch. The actions speaking for themseves. You will get injured or not. 

You both play in clubs with strong footballers but most of the time you were able to convince as a team. At the same time, you guys are known as players who make the difference. How important is a single player in times of modern football? 

Mario: Bacelona is a good example. They got many players with individual quality, but they make everything as a team anyways. I think both is important to be successful. 
Marco: They often talk about a main character. Maybe a single player can decide a game from time to time, but never the whole season. 

What made you two so successful, exept talent and luck?

Marco: Maybe your surprised when we don’t say: I wanted it so bad and I had the will. We had and have it of course too, but mainly it’s the fun we have.

At least that doesn’t sound like the type of footballer like Oliver Kahn.

Mario: Do you mean with Kahn that you always have to torment yourself?
Marco: I stick to it, it’s the fun. That you’re crazy for football and be passionate. 
Mario: Discipline and Disclaimer too, but I totally agree with Marco.
Marco: Mario even plays football down in the basement. 

In the basement?

Mario: We got a little pitch down there, perhaps 4x5 meters in size, with little gates. Me and my brothers play with a little plastic ball, but not as often as in the past.
Marco: although it would be necessary. *smirks widely at Mario*
Mario: I’ve invited Marco to a little match, but he doesn’t dare. *grins back*

So, Reus has a basement training deficit against Götze. Another difference between you is, that Mr. Reus was already at several clubs. 

Marco: I didn’t play in the first year of the B-Jugend at Borussia Dortmund, because the Trainer said he would set the players after their performence and skills.
Mario: That’s why you didn’t play.
Marco: You weren’t even born back this time! *laughs* In those days I already thought that I’m good enough and after a game against Ahlen I asked them if they wanted me, and the Trainer said yes. Basically I tranferred myself. Ahlen made me feel good.


Marco: Because I was finally allowed to play football. It hurts when you’re like 15,16 or 17 years old and you can’t play. That’s like a ban. I didn’t even cared that I played for the third class Ahlen instead of the first class Borussia Dortmund. 

Mr. Reus, you said you have to feel good to bring good performance. What does that mean?

Marco: When I moved to Mönchengladbach at the age of 20, I became part of a very young team, which helped a lot. Than of course the surroundings: family, girlfriend, manager. 

Mr. Götze, you still live with your parents. 

Mario: And it’s the most beautiful place to live. 
Marco: I live alone - and can’t complain. If you will ever move out…
Mario: What surely happens…
Marco: You will like it. And I even know why.
Mario: I love to cook.
Marco: That’s what I’m talking about! *both of them laughing hard*
Mario: No, let’s be serious. I have my family and friends here, so everything is fine.

Do you ever feel like your career went rapidly better and better?

Marco: I’m a late Bloomer compared with Mario.
Mario: I think you have to classify and process. When you’re surrounded by the right people, you can relativize everything.

Do you still have contact with some friends from the past?

Mario: Something changed. There are 2 or 3 friends who still see’s me like who I am. But there are some people too, who only wants to be friends with you because of your career. 
Marco: Those people who “always believed in you”. I know them too.

Do you get warily?

Mario: Yes.
Marco: It’s always difficult to find people you can trust. But that’s not a problem, I have enough good friends. 
Mario: When we are away with the team, we always sleep in expensive hotels and of course we spent a lot more money on clothes than other people at our age. That’s a fact. But we don’t spent all our money for expensive things, we still eat pizza for 7 euros. *laughs*

Do you get begging letters sometimes, like some lottery winners?

Mario: Nobody asked me for money yet. 

Mr. Reus,you watched a game from the tribune a few days ago, because of you toe-injury. You sat next to you girlfriend. (Mario is typing instantly something in his phone) Did you told her how everything runs and she said “ok I’m going to watch this game with you in the stadium, even the cameras filming and and taking photos of me”?

Marco: She is watching every game of my team at the stadium. This time I was injured and sat next to her. Sould I sat down 3 places away from her, or what? *laughs* That would’ve been quite unnatural. 

They wrote in the newspaper that you showed the love of your life.

Marco: She sat next to me in the stadium! After that we went together to the VIP room, but she left after a couple minutes. My family stays there after every game too. I think, you don’t have to overthink everything.

Mario(shows a picture from the newspaper on his smartphone. The photo shows how Marco kisses his girfriend.): “Marco Reus kissed his Caro tenderly on the tribune”. *laughs hard* 
Marco: Completely unnecessary to show that now, completely unnecessary. *smirks at Mario*

Do you feel in everyday life that footballers are role models too?

Mario: It’s not like I feel it every second. I don’t went to the christmas market and drink 5 cups of Glühwein of course, but I wouldn’t do this at home either.

Some professional footballers of Dortmund went to a concert of the politically incorrect and disputed Rapper Bushido. 

Mario: I wasn’t there.
Marco: I went to Söhne Mannheims in Oberhausen, they aren’t politically incorrent, right? 

Could you sing along without being filmed? Celebrities who are went out privately recover themselves on youtube sometimes. 

Marco: Nobody filmed me or recorded me… I think. I didn’t even danced or something like that. *laughs*
Mario: You’re just wearing a hat when you went out, that’s enough. 
Marco: We even play football in towns and live in towns where football is an pretty important thing. I don’t know Berlin that much, but I think football is more significant in Mönchengladbach and Dortmund than there.

We often read that many different clubs offer a lot of money to buy you too. Mr. Reus, the Fc Bayern woos you at the moment. How do you deal with that?

Marco: I’m not so much interested in reports like that. When I show performance and big clubs wanna buy me, I’m happy about it. 
Mario: It’s always great to hear that, of course. But the question is, how serious those articles are.

But of course, the representatives of major European clubs report their consultant Volker Struth and Dirk Hebel.

Marco: Yeah, sure and that’s what I’m a little bit more interested in. But I don’t ask Volker about new inquires every week and he don’t annoy me with it either. 
Mario: We are both pretty happy at our clubs. I don’t think I’ve send any signals that shows that I really wanna leave Borussia Dortmund.
Marco: When the newspapers wrote that Bayern wanted to buy me, something beautiful happened to me. I came to training and over my locker hung a poster with the words “Ulli, keep your money”. 

How would react your teammates when they read that Arsenal wants to pay 40 million euros for Mario? 

Marco: Then he gets spells in the cabin, that’s for sure. Plus some from me. *smirks*

Footballers and trainer always say they wanna focus on the next game. Do you really do that?

Marco: Ask someone from the Bundesliga against whom he will play in 5 weeks, he will need time to consider. 

How do you plan your own career?

Marco: It’s diffecult to really plan something, everything can happen in football. You have to convince every single day, during every training. When I wanna influence my career, theres no other way. I think, I really live for the moment. 
Mario: Me too. Of course I have some goals for the future, but I don’t put myself under pressure. 

And what about private things? Kids, for example, do you want some at the age of 30? 

Mario: Perfect question for Marco.
Marco: Thanks, you’re so kind. It can happen a little bit earlier, but it can wait. 

Mr. Götze, how will 2012 go for Marco Reus?

Mario: If he will marry? At least he will score a lot of goals and give some Assists. 
Marco: And Mario has to stay healthy and show, how good he is. I mean on the pitch, of course. *smirks*

Mellifluous Tunes

Summary: Phil lives on his own in a quaint little apartment right near the heart of London. It was quiet, peaceful and calm. That is, until his new neighbor Dan moves in and decides to make himself known by playing music so loud, the entire building can hear it. Phil finally had enough and goes over to complain but it results in an unlikely friendship.

Word Count: 1866

Warnings:  A swear once but that’s about it.

Tags: youtuber!Phil, nonyoutuber!Dan

Keep reading

Prom? (Jin Fluff)

Summary: Sometimes the better looking option, isn’t always the best.
Members: Jin x Reader (Appearance by Hoseok)
Type: Fluff
Length: 1,764 Words

 This was not at all the story I had set out to write, but I like it a lot. I hope you guys like this scenario as well <3

-Admin Kat

Originally posted by vubbletae

“I just don’t get what you see in him. He is so quiet and shy and barely talks to anyone. You would honestly rather sit with him at lunch rather than someone like… like Hoseok?” Your best friend asked in disbelief. The two of you stood side by side in the cafeteria of your high school. You held your tray of food close to your body. It was the beginning of your second semester and everyone was waiting for the moment when the senior boys started asking all the girls to prom. This was your senior year and you remembered that the previous three years, you spent them trying to get close to senior boys in the hopes that one of them would find you good enough to ask to prom.

Keep reading

Somewhere In Neverland | 02

✒  Here is chapter two, hope you guys continue liking the fic :)

“Tell me how you feel over and done with, like your life is a map with no compass.” 

           It was weird going back to your dorm room later that same night and taking the time to clean it out completely. Yes, you started a couple days ago by taking down posters and getting your boxes together, but you’d been putting off the whole “finally cleaning the dorm” thing for a while, but tonight was the last night, and you had no choice.

           You went out with the boys for a while just an hour before. You ate, laughed, and even played a couple rounds of karaoke at that place down the street that never seemed to get any customers, other than you guys. It was weird, but you all preferred it that way; it made you feel like it was your place and no one else’s.  

           But after the partying died down a bit and you remember your messy dorm, you excused yourself from the fun and slipped away. The boys were mostly too absorbed in Junhoe’s performance to mind your absence, aside from Bobby however. He managed to discreetly slip away as well right after you and see where you were heading.

Keep reading

The night you met him. (Harry Styles)

You never in a million years would have thought that this is how your day is going to end. How did a regular Monday which started so normal turn into one of the best days of your life.

You finally got home and dragged yourself to your bed. You simply laid there with every single moment from last night going through your mind. How? Why me? You didn’t even try to hide the smile on your face. Everything was so wonderfully weird. It was him that made your mind explode in happiness.


After long busy weekend of night shifts at the bar you worked in, Monday seemed like an easy shift. You got out of bed at 2 pm which was a normal time for you as work made your sleeping schedule an absolute disaster. It wasn’t a good day, neither was it a bad day. It was just a Monday. After quick ‘breakfast’ if you can even call a meal at 2 pm breakfast, you jumped into the shower and put some clothes on. You dropped all your make up next to the mirror and sat down on the floor in front of it. You put some music on and looked at the time on your laptop. There was plenty of time till work and you haven’t really planned on doing much else. Luckily which you realized later that night, you put quite a bit of effort and time in doing your hair and make up, for no real reason apart from pure boredom.

When you were all ready for work you put your headphones in and left your house. The weather was horrible. You were wearing a simple shirt with a long baggy knitted cardigan, ripped black jeans and a coat. Which still seemed not enough when you shivered with your first step outside. The only thought in your mind was 'Thank god it’s not raining’.

You entered work at 6:30 pm and looked around to see loads of happy people with drinks in their hands and laughter mixed with music spread through the building. You quickly changed into your uniform and stepped behind the bar to be greeted with usual customers and your colleagues.

Even though working as a bartender was not your dream job it made you happy. You came to this small town in England to study in University and this job paid for your living. It couldn’t be better fitted for you. During days you would go to all your lectures and work during nights and weekends. You had enough money to let yourself live a free life.

The other thing you loved about this job is making other people happy. People call bartenders psychologist for a reason. You stand there, provide people with drinks and listen to their life stories. It’s fascinating I might say. The amount of people you’ve met so far with so many interesting stories makes you feel wiser.

The shift was going quite slowly and all your colleagues have left. It was already 10 pm only two more hours of serving. You slowly started cleaning around and getting the bar ready for the next day. There weren’t that many customers in the building, you were cleaning all the glasses and dancing on your own behind the bar. Suddenly you heard a group of people enter the building with loud laughter. You didn’t pay much attention to them when they sat down at a table and took their coats off.

’ I know Harry. It’s all your fault, you know’  -  one of the voices said.

’ It’s not my fault it’s cold outside’ - the other voice said.

’ Yeah but it was your idea to leave the hotel and go into town this late to have a drink’

You didn’t hear them approach the bar when you were dancing while polishing the glasses. You almost dropped everything when you heard a deep beautiful voice behind you.

'Good dance moves you got there, can you teach me?’ - you stood there frozen and turned your head around to be greeted by a tall man with beautiful green eyes. You didn’t realize for a second who was standing in front of you. And then it hit you. It’s one and only Harry Styles.

'Well I would teach you but I don’t think you’ll ever be as good as me’ - you said back to him trying to hide the surprise of who was standing in front of you. The other guys approached the bar. Surprise surprise it was the rest of his band mates. The first thought that ran through your mind is to act cool. You weren’t the biggest fan of One Direction, you knew a couple of their songs and a listened to them but your room was never covered with posters of them.

'Sarcastic. I like it’ - he snapped back at you with a smirk on his face that made you blush.

'Boys what are we having?’ - you made all of them drinks and he even offered to buy you one but you refused to as you didn’t like drinking at work.

Few rounds of drinks have passed and the boys were tippsy but not drunk. It was close to closing time when Harry came to the bar with a smile on his face.

'So what is your name?’ - He said leaning on the bar while the other boys were sitting at the table.

'Y/N, and let me guess you’re name is Harry’ - you giggled as you stood right in front of him behind the bar.

'Are you a mind reader or just a fan?’ - he said with a big smile on his face. You examined his face. You’ve seen pictures of him but just now it hit you how beautiful this man was. His curly messy hair, bright green eyes and tattoos covering his arms. Breathtaking.  

'Neither’ - you sarcastically snapped back at him. His face was confused and he didn’t know what to say. You were never the shy one around new people that’s why you kept the conversation going while cleaning the bar. He didn’t seem to care that his friends were sitting on a table far away from him. He was interested in you and you didn’t know why.

'What brings one of the biggest stars in the world to this bar in a small town?’ you kept a conversation going. It’s what you always did to customers standing at the bar but this time you were actually interested.

'Well we got a couple of days off and decided to come here. It’s not far from our next meeting and there is nothing better than exploring new places, isn’t it?’ - how did you get so lucky? Such a beautiful man was right there in front of you actually keeping a decent conversation with you. He is Harry Styles. Does he do it everywhere he goes? Randomly chat up and flirt with bartenders?

'Okey boys, last round and we are closing up. I think it’s time for everyone to get some rest’ - you said a bit louder so the other boys could here.

'No, no. We don’t want to go back to the hotel it’s boring there’ - Harry quickly replied with a worried face.

'Well, Harry, I can’t just keep the bar open because a couple of famous boys are drinking here. I’m sorry darling but we will be closing you want it or not.’ - you said with a genuine smile on your face.

Harry bought the last round and went back to the guys. By the time they finished their drinks you almost finished cleaning up and the only thing left was counting the money.

All the boys put their coats on and were getting ready to leave. As Harry whispered something to them. All the boys walked out but Harry. He started walking up to you and you thought 'This one is going to be trouble’.

'I’ve already told you we are closed and I’m not staying extra time here just for you.’ - you said as he stood there with no intention of leaving.

'Well me and the boys had an idea, why don’t I wait for you to finish up here and we all meet up in our hotel and hang out a little bit. We are making each other crazy, I can’t keep talking to them anymore. As much as we love each other, we need more people around us.’

'We just met a couple of hours ago. It’s a bit weird and I don’t think going to your hotel at 1 am is a very smart idea’ - you snapped back with a confused face. Why was he inviting you? What are his intentions?

'Oh don’t worry’ he laughed at how you reacted to his offer ’ We are not murderers I promise you and you don’t seem like one. And I’ll get you home and safe at the end of the night. Pinky promise.’ he said putting his pinky in the air. As much as you wanted or had to say no, you wanted to see where this is going. You actually liked talking to him. He seemed very smart and genuine, but it could only be a mask. Every bone in your body was screaming to say no, but you were mesmerized by his beauty.

'Well if you are definitely not murderers a couple of hours wouldn’t do any harm’ - you said putting a pinky up to his. You’ve never met this man before and he was incredibly powerful and famous. Somehow you felt safe as if you’ve known him for ages.

He sat there staring at you as you finished cashing up. He waited while you went upstairs to the office did all the paper work, changed and came downstairs to see him standing there with his coat on ready to go.

'All ready?’ - he said all excited.

'Yes, let’s go’

You’ve got a taxi to their hotel which was a 10 minute drive away. When you entered the room all the guys were sitting there playing FIFA and didn’t even notice you walking in.

'Hey guys we are back’ - Harry said loud enough for everyone to turn their heads to us. They were a bit surprised but you were hoping not in a bad way.

'Hey guys I’m back.’ - you said not know what to do next. They all stopped playing and turned their attention to you. Harry left the room and all the guys started talking to you, they seem genuinely interested and you were surprised by it. The conversation kept on going when Harry walked back in with drinks for everybody. When he sat down across from you and smiled, your stomach stopped for a second and you felt your cheeks getting red.

The time was flying by and you were having fun, you relaxed after a couple of drinks down in your system. You played some stupid drinking games and got to know them a lot. You were surprised how open they were about their lives and how genuinely friendly they were towards you.

One after another boys started leaving the room to go to sleep. You completely lost track of time and place. You didn’t realize that it was 5 am all the boys have left and you were casually sitting with only Harry on a bed. You talked about life, your dreams, your favourite places, everything. He opened up to you like a long lost friend. At that moment neither of you had any intentions of sleeping together, it was pure night conversations, which were the best.


You slowly woke up and opened your eyes with surprise. He was right next to you. You could feel his warm body next to you and his arms wrapped around your waist. You took your phone off the table next to the bed trying not to make quick movements not to wake this gorgeous human being next to you. He only moved a little bit, groaned and moved his hand from you. This was your chance to go. You were already late for university but you didn’t feel guilty about it.

Last night was one of the best nights of your life, purely because you opened up to a random person you met and he opened up to you. That night you made a new friend and if he wasn’t this famous you would keep him forever. But you knew it was over the second you opened your eyes from sleep. You put your shoes back on and thought that leaving like this would be very rude.

You quickly found a paper and a pen and wrote him a note. For a moment you thought its a stupid cheesy idea and wanted to throw the piece of paper out but who cares. You may never see this man in your life. You felt connected to him. You wanted to see him more, talk to him, laugh with him, be with him. You put the note on the table next to the bed, kissed his forehead and left the hotel room with the biggest smile on your face.


Thank you for last night. But you broke your promise. You said you’ll bring me back home which never happened. You broke the pinky promise. How dare you?!

But sincerely thank you, I had an amazing night. I’ve never opened up to anybody like this. You guys are genuinely one of the best nicest people I’ve ever met. I’ll tell you a secret, you are my favourite.  

Have a lovely life.


You never in a million years would have thought that this is how your day is going to end. How did a regular Monday which started so normal turn into one of the best days of your life.

You finally got home and dragged yourself to your bed. You simply laid there with every single moment from last night going through your mind. How? Why me? You didn’t even try to hide the smile on your face. Everything was so wonderfully weird. It was him that made your mind explode in happiness.


This is the first imagine I’ve ever written. :)


I am beyond shocked and saddened to hear of Robin Williams’s recent passing. Like many of you, I looked up to him greatly from the time I was a child. “Jumanji” captured my imagination. “Mrs. Doubtfire” made me want him as a nanny. And of course, “Good Will Hunting” broke my heart. His performance in “The Birdcage” as one half of a loving monogamous gay couple contributed to the emotional foundation I relied on in later years when I was coming to terms with my own orientation.

When I started to do stand-up as a teenager, club owners told me my manic energy and impersonations reminded them of a cross between Robin Williams and Margaret Cho. So I channeled their tour de force personas whenever I got nervous - which was often. I finally got a chance to meet Robin when his comedy show passed through DC on it’s way to Broadway. $54 for a ticket, $20 for a poster, and $5 for a key chain was a lot of money for a kid in high school. But it was worth it to me. I waited behind Constitution Hall hoping to meet Robin after his earth-shattering performance that left my sides hurting and taught me more about sex than any health class I had ever taken. He graciously signed my poster and thanked me as I rambled about looking forward to seeing his upcoming film “One Hour Photo.” And just as he turned to leave and security was ready to whisk him away, I impulsively got the nerve to meekly ask, “can I take a quick picture with you?” He immediately doubled back, “yes” he said, put his arm around me and posed for a photo. To him, he probably saw a kid he wanted to be nice to. For me, his gesture in that brief moment gave me the validation I needed to get through the horror of high school that week. That photo meant everything. And that signed poster of him simulating cunnilingus with his elbow became framed and decorated various living spaces from my childhood home to dorm rooms at my Christian college, and beyond. I never forgot his kindness that night, and it fueled me for the next 10 years when I met him again.

Exactly two years ago in August 2012, I got cast in Robin Williams’s film, “The Angriest Man In Brooklyn.” Casting directors Jamie Schulman and Margery Simkin introduced me to Phil Alden “If you build it they will come” Robinson. Robin would be playing a man who believes he has 90 minutes to live and runs around Brooklyn attempting to make amends. I read the script and it was beautiful. After two auditions, Phil thought I was funny enough to be in a few scenes opposite Robin and booked me. My experience on that film could not have been more of a dream. A dream in which I biked to work from my Brooklyn apartment and locked my bike on the light post right next to my trailer under the Manhattan Bridge in time to watch the sun rise every day. All this before heading into the make-up trailer to sit alongside my comedy icon and other incredible performers of our generation. The amazing ensemble included Mila Kunis, Peter Dinklage, Melissa Leo, Hamish Linklater, and Sutton Foster. All of us believing in this independent passion project about family and redemption. No one more so than Robin, who’s wife, Susan stood by his side at all times. The two of them were constantly attached and giddy in love like teenagers.

Here’s a secret: although I was on location at the same time as Robin and we got powdered next to each other, I didn’t expect to actually get to act with him. Our only scenes together in the film are of us talking on the phone. In the spirit of Hollywood magic, that usually means the person reading with you during filming is not actually the person you see talking to on screen. But as they set up my shot, Robin showed up, shook my hand, and stood right next to me off-camera to read our scene. Robin was going the extra mile with me - just like he did a decade earlier outside of Constitution Hall.

When we wrapped our scenes, I told him about our meeting from my childhood and the impact it had on me. “You’re great,” he told me. “And you’re going to go far.” His wife, Susan and I chatted briefly as Robin went to set up another shot. She told me about their chance encounter at an Apple Store that led to marriage. “There was just an energy about him. He looked at me and I just had to say hello.” “No, I totally get it,” I told her.

“The Angriest Man In Brooklyn” opened this year on Memorial Day weekend, May 23rd. It did not get the reception many of us had hoped for. Just two weeks prior, “The Crazy Ones” was cancelled by CBS, prematurely ending Robin Williams’s television comeback. In early June, I heard he checked into rehab, and although I no longer consider myself to be religious, I said a little prayer knowing in my heart he would get better.

Hence, today’s news is a shock to my system. As someone who has struggled with depression and thoughts of suicide from an early age, the speculation that Robin ended his own life is an especially painful one. We all have our demons, and Robin is only human.

They say you should never meet your idols. I’m so honored I met and got to work with mine. The spirit of Robin Williams has lived within me for the majority of my life and the entire duration of my acting career- always there as a guidepost and a beacon of inspiration. Whether through his performances on screen or telling me in person, he gave me the courage to be myself.

My heart is so sad for the incredible loss of this gentle man. My deepest condolences goes out to his family, loved ones, and generations of audiences he affected over nearly four decades. Let’s keep the laughter alive for Robin.

Stiles Stilinski - “Leaving for the Big Apple” (For Sabi)

You and Stiles get into a huge fight when he discovers that you’re moving to NYC to go to school there instead of staying with him in Beacon Hills. 

GIF credit to alphalewolf


                Over the year, you developed a habit of climbing into Stiles’ window and then going into bed with him.  It became more of a common occurrence when Derek, your roommate, started leaving the windows open and you were too cold to sleep alone with just a throw blanket. Stiles enjoyed your company. Eventually, his dad found out that you were sleeping there, and he invited you for breakfast instead of kicking you out. You didn’t have to sneak in or out through the window anymore. It was the first sense of home that you’ve felt since your family burned years ago along with the Hales. Mr. Stilinski gave you his wife’s old signature blueberry waffle recipe that they hadn’t had since she was here to make it herself; Stiles was nearly crying when he took his first bite of the uniquely prepared waffle drenched in blueberry syrup. That’s basically when they insisted that you were never allowed to leave.

                Melissa and Scott started coming over for dinner as well, and the three of you teenagers made a bet on how long it would take for John and Melissa to get together. Stiles, who guessed that they were already secretly a couple, won. Your life became dramatically domestic. So it makes sense that you can’t sleep while you lie on your old bed back in Derek’s loft for the first time in a year.

                “You should call him,” Derek tells you for the hundredth time as he reads A Farewell To Arms. You’ve been ranting to him for about an hour, and he still continues pretending to read even though he suspiciously hasn’t turned a page the entire time.

                “And say what? ‘Stiles, I’m sorry that I want a real college education and that you are too selfish to let me go’? No, Derek, I’m not doing it. If he wants to talk to me then he has to call me first. I don’t need him.”

                “If you don’t need him then why haven’t you gone to sleep yet?”

                You don’t answer Derek due to your stubbornness. Instead, you turn onto your side that isn’t facing him, and you hit your cheek against the pillow. You hated how Derek had a point. How were you expecting to be okay in a dorm room with a stranger all the way in New York when you could barely handle being a few blocks away from Stiles.

                “You can’t avoid him forever.” Again, this is another thing that Derek has said more than once tonight.


                “Why didn’t you even tell me that you were applying?” Stiles stares at you wide eyed with absolute horror.

                “I didn’t tell you because you would think I’m insane! I just knew you were going to react how you’re reacting right now.”

                His anxiety is obviously heightened and he slams the kitchen cupboard closed as he puts away the dried dished. “Maybe you could’ve given me a warning? Telling me about this five days before you are set to leave is a bit much, Sabi!”

                “I should’ve listened to your dad. He told me that I should tell you right when I was accepted-”

                Stiles scoffs, even more pissed off. “My dad knew about this?”

                “Of course. He gets the mail for us. He asked me to explain why I was receiving letters from NYU.”

                “Oh God. Oh my God. Are you serious? God-” Stiles begins swearing and pacing around the room, avoiding eye contact with you.

                “Stiles, calm down. Be reasonable. I’m eighteen, high school is over, what did you expect? Did you seriously expect for me to stay here and live in your house forever with a bedroom covered in band posters?”

                “No. I had a plan. You and I were going to get married and move out of here, go south. Long Beach was always cool. We could’ve lived there.”

                “Thanks for telling me about this little plan you had.” Usually, it would’ve been heart warming to know that Stiles was imagining marrying you, but right now all you wanted to do was maybe smash a recently washed plate, which he actually did for you.

                “Thanks for telling me that you’re moving across the country.” The plate shatters as it hits the tiled flooring, making you jump. “Why couldn’t you have just gone to school in Los Angeles? Even Beacon Hills community college-”

                “I couldn’t stay in Beacon Hills! Do you know how hard it is to stay here all the time, knowing that my parents burned to ashes just a block away, or that some of my best friends have died around here. Everything reminds me of something terrible. I need to get out of here. These streets, the desk behind Scott in chemistry class, the school parking lot, Derek’s picture frame next to his bed… all of it is killing me. I know you know what I’m talking about. I just can’t be constantly reminded of all the things I’ve lost.”

                “Yet, you’re still okay with losing me.”

                “Stiles, I don’t mean it like that-”

                “Have fun in New York without me. Hey, maybe find some Frank Sinatra wannabe and then have a ludicrous home in SoHo with two dogs. Be the CEO of some big company. I’ll miss you ever damn minute.”

                “Stiles-” you choke on your words, finally realizing the tears falling down your cheeks.

                It’s when Mr. Stilinski walks in, holding some files from the station, staring at the shattered plate, Stiles’ tear stained cheeks, listening to your quiet sobs, does Stiles finally storm upstairs. When John notices the acceptance letter sitting on the floor, beside the glass, he understands what happened, and you can’t even bring yourself to hug him before leaving the place that you once called home.


You don’t bother wiping the tear from your eye; it falls right onto the pillow. “I can avoid him for as long as I like.”

                You hear Derek shuffle as he stands up and sits down next to you on the bed. “It’s going to be harder for you if you leave without seeing him.”

                “I don’t want to have to hurt my heart all over again when I have to say goodbye.” Your words are slurred as you cry, but he understands. “It’s better this way.”

                Now, even though Derek didn’t exactly believe it, he agreed and placed his hand on your bare shoulder. You finally found sleep once he took away the pain from your heart.


                For the first two months in New York, Derek stayed with you so that you could settle in before going to school. You spend the summer together, telling strangers that you are the Hale siblings. Derek, who is a rich saint apparently, pays for the rent in a small Manhattan apartment with a gorgeous view for the two months you spend together. You are on a first name basis with the guy who serves you coffee every morning; you know that the girl who lives a floor above you really loves watching Game of Thrones at 2AM; you know that every day except for Sundays at 2:00, a lady named Eleanor takes her two Shiba Inus, Skippet and Pippin, out for a walk around the Ramble in Central Park, where Derek takes you to run occasionally. New York becomes your new home very quickly.

                 The atmosphere is so distracting that you honestly don’t even think about Stiles until the day after Derek heads back to Beacon Hills. It’s when you’re strolling around strawberry fields, thinking about how tomorrow you’ll be going to orientation in just a week’s time, and a little girl with moles just like Stiles’ asks her mom if they can stop by the store to pick up blueberry waffles. You came to NYC to get away from your past, but here it is, hitting you right in the face.

                There’s this one quote from How I Met Your Mother that goes, “If you can’t spot the crazy person on the bus, it’s you.” That day, while you sped walked out of central park, past the mole speckled little girl, you can’t stop the tears from falling. You get onto the subway, not even entirely sure of where you’re heading and you lose yourself. You hadn’t made blueberry waffles in two months. You missed Stiles’ blueberry flavoured lips as he’d kiss you with gratitude after eating. You miss the way he said, “The only thing that I love more than these waffles is you.”

                You ignore the stares from people and get off at the next stop. As you’re waiting for your train so that you can go home, one nearing the JFK airport comes first. You like to think that you’re a strong person with good morals, which you are. Usually, hopping onto this train would seem like a stupid idea to you, but right now, in this moment, it seems like the wisest choice you’ve ever made.


                “He misses you terribly, you know,” Lydia tells you with a bit of an attitude as she drives you home from the airport. You decided to call her, for some reason, knowing that she’d be the only one you could trust to not yell at you or maybe tell Stiles that you were arriving. “He has nightmares all the time, again. They’re not as bad as they used to be, but he has called me in the middle of the night a couple times to ask me through his tears what the weather will be like in New York that day.”

                “I’m sorry.”

                “Don’t apologize. I’m proud of you for getting out of this town. Due to expenses, I have to wait another year to get into Yale. My parents just can’t afford it right now. Man, your application must’ve been impressive. Your parents died, leaving you with a bunch of money, and then all your friends died, but you’re still going strong and still holding a high GPA."               

                "Lydia-” You want to apologize, but you don’t know what for exactly.

                “I’m just jealous,” she says, which is her way of assuring you that she isn’t angry with you and that you’re still friends. “I also really want to see him be happy again.”


                Scott is walking out of the hospital just as you’re walking in. Lydia had informed you in the car ride that Stiles now is working as the hospital’s receptionist because over the summer he decided he wanted to go to med school, so he got the job here to pay it off and also help with applications. At first, Scott stares at you as if you’ve hurt him personally, but after a few blinks, he pulls you in for a huge bear hug greeting.

                “You’re back,” he mumbles into your hair.

                “Temporarily. I still have to go to school.”

                Scott nods, and looks behind him at the closed door before looking at you again. “I just came by to give him and my mom some lunch.” You hated how everyone wasn’t saying Stiles name, as if it were going to trigger something within you. “I guess I should get going. Deaton really needs me today, but it was nice seeing you.” Before he walks away, he pauses and gives you one last look. Quietly, he says, “Listen, Sabi, if you’re here to just say hello, then you really should leave because I don’t think he can handle watching you leave twice.”

                As Scott leaves, you stare at the door that’s blocking you from Stiles, debating on whether or not you’re doing the right thing. You hadn’t had a plan of what you were going to say exactly, but you walk in anyways.

                You didn’t expect it to hurt so much when you saw him, but it does. His hair is messier than it once was, but his smile is the same as he talks to a man who seems to be asking for room directions. Stiles points two of his long fingers in one direction and you watch as the man thanks him and walks away.

                Awkwardly, you stand to the side, staring at him as he rests his head against his hand while going back onto his computer and staring at the screen. He looks content from far away, but as you find the courage to step closer, you see that he just looks very tired.

                “Hi,” you mutter very lamely as you lean against the side of the admin counter.

                His eyelids flutter as he recognizes your voice, but it takes him a moment to lift his head and look at you. “Hello,” he says in absolute shock.

                “I was planning on ordering takeout tonight and enjoying one of the last days in my apartment, but I saw this little girl in the park who looked like the female reincarnation of you. Actually, she didn’t. She had lighter hair and a different nose. But other than that, she was-”

                He cuts off your rambling by jumping up and coming around the corner to embrace you with a really tight hug.

                “Anyways, I came here instead,” you whisper as you burry your face against the nook of his neck.

                It’s the first time you’ve ever seen him speechless. He just stands there, holding you in his arms in the middle of the hospital.      

                “I’m so sorry,” you sniffle as your eyes begin to water. Yes, New York felt like home, but there was always something missing, and as you stand there hugging him, you realize that he is it.

                “Don’t say that. I was being selfish. I should’ve been supportive. I’m sorry,” he mumbles, pulling back to get a look at you.

                “Stiles, I miss you so much, you need to come back with me. We can have a crappy apartment together, I don’t care. I just need you with me. You would love New York. There’s so much random free events all the time, and my friend, the coffee guy, he’s in a running group that you could join and-”

                He puts a finger up for you to stop talking and he walks over to his desk, digging through some papers before grabbing hold of your hand and pulling you close to him so that you could look at the New York school applications he has laid out in front of you.

                “What is this?”

                He smiles. “I started looking into their med schools. I obviously won’t be able to get in until next year, but did you honestly think that I was never going to show up at your doorstep or something?”

                You wipe your eye. “You’ll be such a great doctor.”

                “I was looking into psychology. My dad totally supports it. I was planning on heading over next fall anyways so… going a year early doesn’t sound too insane does it? I can spend the year doing what I do here, just in New York with you. It wouldn’t be so bad, I-”

                You cut him off by kissing him. You hadn’t realized how much you needed that until you did it. He’s smiling against your lips right away, but he has to pull back. “Save it for the Big Apple, I’m at work right now, remember?”

Christmas thoughts

Hello Emus! After what it seems a month and a half, here you have what I’ve been writing. I took a long time because of holidays (you know, people go out and do stuff and have fun and blablabla). After watching series 3, although I really liked it (i didn’t like some parts but i kept positive about most points), writing it was difficult. Why? Because they’re not a couple anymore. I thought they were going to keep an opening ending with their relationship, but the thing with Katie just broke me. 

I needed to think how I was going to keep writing stories about my favourite otp ever, even if they were no longer together. It’s been a sad process to me and not having stuff from series 3 to read, it was harder. I NEED YOU TO WRITE HAPPY STORIES AND HAPPY SERIES 3 AUS FOR ME!!!

Anyway, after the last episode I became with this idea and I started to write it through my free and happy time. Now it’s here. I hope you like it. 

Thank you for every like and comment I’ve received through these two months. I know I haven’t posted anything and I’ll try to write other stuff asap, so thank you all. Especially, the kind messages I’ve received. Emus, you’re lovely ♥



She lies alone for the third night in that empty flat far away from home.

Four months ago, she was leaving her family, friends and town for the promising Bristol. She thought she could make it, and she did. After two lonely and dark weeks on her own in a city she didn’t know, she started to do everything by herself. She made friends, she passed her exams…

Keep reading