after two years away from photoshop i decided to come back

[!] we are hiring! 3 new admins

Hey guys! I hope you all are doing amazingly well. I mentioned in a post earlier that we were hiring, so here we are!!

I have some unfortunate news to share. Our dear and beloved admin Cynthia (longguks) has decided to leave the blog. We’ve been pushing this announcement sooo actually so shamefully back because we’ve had no time to start requiting right away, but I think it’s been way too long and too disrespectful to the tremendous help Cynthia has given us. Thank you Cynnamon Roll for putting up with my atrocious puns and helping the blog achieve what I believe was its peak. I can’t thank you enough, really!!

And of course, our other main admin, Emma, has deactivated her Tumblr due to personal conflicts. We are eternally grateful for the support she’s given this blog over the years, reaching out when we were completely down even though she left already. I know you’re taking a break from social media, but I hope you see this, Emma, and know how thankful I am to have had you guide me when I first joined the blog and help me through a time when the blog was dead. Wishing you the best of luck.

ANNNDDD, my favorite plant v3r4 (mumamoo). I seriously can’t believe you’ve put up with me for as long as you did, and I am forever grateful for the time we’ve had together, both regarding making posts and our stupid bickering and attempts to be the cooler person (let’s be honest, neither of us is cool alright). When I first joined and got to know you, man I thought you were the most edgy, cool person ever, and I never thought we’d come to the point in our friendship we’re at right now. Wishing you all the best in university and life!!

The best way to run the blog is to have at least six admins, so we’re hiring! As excited as we are to be requiting a new admin, please make sure you fit the following requirements so we can run the blog as smoothly as possible.

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This is the beginning of a short multi chapter fic that will be part of a new series I’m calling Jon Snow in Uniform.

This story is the result of several prompts that I received, asking for variants of Jealous!Jon and Possessive!Jon. Here is both of those, with bonus Sweetheart!Jon. 

You can read below or on ao3. Further chapters will be posted on ao3.

Rated E.

San Diego, CA, USA. Home of the U.S. Navy SEALs

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An Intern’s Guide To: Interning

Yesterday I turned 19. Meaning today it has officially been one year since I claimed the title of intern. That’s one year of intern knowledge, and then some, that I would like to share with you. 

Let’s begin with a bit of background. I lost my intern virginity last summer. I started applying in spring and, to my surprise, heard back from all the magazines I applied to - bar one. But their Twitter pic hasn’t changed in a year so I’m not quite sure what’s going on there. I ended up becoming an editorial intern at two magazines. Both of different genres - I figured it’d be beneficial to  get a diversity of experience. The first was a fashion magazine and I absolutely loved it. It was the first magazine I set eyes on and I even modelled my entire CV around one of its covers (more on that later.) I enjoyed it so much that I re-arranged the dates of my next internship just so I could stay longer. I woke up every morning last summer looking forward to what my day had to offer. Even though I struggled to afford travelling into London everyday, and got achey eyes from hours in front of a laptop screen, I began each day with a flurry of butterflies in my stomach because I loved writing for them so much. It felt like the right fit from day one. Despite arriving 2 hours late on day one that is.

I was given so much freedom to write exactly how I wanted to — much different to my next internship, where despite the fact it was a much younger magazine, had a more traditional approach with its interns. Everything would get sent back with highlighted notes and once it was finally published, lost all remnants of its initial vitality, but in turn gained the slick and polished voice of an edited feature.  I did learn a lot from all that editing. Things they’d usually teach you in journalism school like “numbers under ten are expressed in words.” Not only did I learn a lot but met some really wonderful people.

Despite each internship’s differences, both editors seemed happy with my work and expressed they wished I could stay longer! I now write for the first magazine, which is beyond what I could’ve imagined when I began applying last year (have a read of my elated response to first-time publication here.) I’d like to stress that I had no contacts nor family members who have a clue about this industry. If I can do it, you most definitely can too! So from me to you, here’s how to become an intern.  

Find Your Own Experience.

High-key every intern’s #goals

Before writing your CV you need relevant things to fill it with. Instead of waiting for opportunity to knock on your door, why not make your own? With the Internet at your fingertips there is no excuse. Gaining experience and building a portfolio is as simple as e-mailing your favourite blog and asking to contribute an article. Starting your own blog and making sure it’s in tip-top shape when future employers decide to Google you, and sincerely reaching out to growing online platforms asking to write for them. In the beginning I built my portfolio through Twitter search. I would search key phrases like “bloggers wanted” or “writers wanted” and volunteer my services (@UKFashionIntern is fab for this). You’d be surprised how far a well-composed e-mail can get you! Experience wise, you really don’t need anything fancy, you just need to show employers that you’re competent in the basics. So e-mail the editor of your local paper and ask to shadow someone for a week, or get down to your local radio and volunteer your time for a few days. If you’re at school or university make use of all the opportunities to write for the magazine or paper. This is all classed as experience, will build your portfolio and get you suited for an internship.

Stand Out.


I think this is most important. Especially if you’re lacking in the experience department. It’s imperative to set yourself apart from all the other candidates who have the same or more experience than you. Two ways to get your application an eyebrow raise are your e-mail subject line and the aesthetic of your CV. Editors’ inboxes are filled with hundreds of e-mails a day so use your subject line to stand out from all the other intern e-mails. Make it short, concise but interesting so they have to read it. I’m not sure where I came up with mine, but I definitely did a ton of research, looked at lots of examples and steered away from the conventional. Think of it like a headline, but always ensure it’s appropriate. 

Don’t be afraid to get creative with your CV. Fashion and media are industries where creativity is celebrated after all, so you can afford to push boundaries with your application (although as was suggested to me by Heat’s Senior Editor, simplicity is often better). It’ll make you memorable and give you a chance to show your personality and how badly you want that internship. Think of the dozens of black and white word documents an editor receives then *boom* in comes your creative piece of curriculum vitae. At one of my internships, the editor showed my CV to the entire office and asked how I created it. I used photoshop (good way to showcase photoshop skills) in order to create an infographic CV. Infographics are a succinct means of getting your experience across, way more visual and fun to look at, and a great way to play on human psychology (psych student coming thru). Who wants to read through dozens of identical applications when you could present the same information through image, colour and an attractive aesthetic. Chances are they won’t be glossing over your CV. It’s different to the usual application so they’ll take note. If you dont know how to use photoshop - like me pre-CV - just google everything. Google is your friend.

Be as modest or as extra as you please

For infographic inspo I did a Google and Pinterest search for creative CVs. I saved my favourites and used them for inspiration on how to design my own. As mentioned in the intro, I based the colour scheme of my CV on the cover of the first magazine I applied to. Partly because the colours were soo beautiful, and because I wanted to impress them. I literally used a colour code finder to find the exact colours. If that doesn’t show how bad you want that internship I don’t know what could! A strong subject line and a pretty CV are bound to give you a good footing in the application process.

Here’s a buzzfeed link to CV ideas you could use for any job, not just creative ones

Use your Initiative/Be a Ninja.

Once you’ve got through the prelims and finally land that internship, it’s time to be on your A-game and stay on that A-game. Bring a notebook so you can take note of instructions, feedback and stay on track. It also makes you look like an eager beaver who’s ready to work. It’s important not just to do what you’re told, but to go beyond that. Do things that your editor didnt even ask or expect you to do. Make everyone’s life as easy as possible by doing more than you have to. So if you’re asked to write an article for online, write the tags and social media posts for it too. If you’re asked to research an interviewee organise your research in an easy-to-read format and suggest interview questions - even if you weren’t asked to. You must always be one step ahead. It’s important to be quick but not to sacrifice quality. So edit, edit, edit. You better be the most helpful and competent ninja that office has ever seen.

Be Present.

Carrie started as an intern. Who wouldn’t want to be Carrie?

Don’t be scared to contribute to discussions. An intern is still a part of the team so offer your ideas and when asked - dont be a neutral party - give your opinion. Be sure to make the most of your time at a publication and get to know people. A good conversation starter is to ask them questions about themselves. Like how they came to work there or any advice they could give you. Dont be a silent voice in the background, you’ve got to be a helping hand and a smiling face. Remember, these are the people giving you references and everyone seems to know each other in fashion, so they could recommend you to someone or even offer you a job based on how lovely you were during your stay.

Be a Nice Human.

UAL produced McQueen and Phoebe Philo. Their word is golden. 

This is integral in any field. Be nice and respectful to any and everyone you meet. I can’t tell you how many people I’ve met and googled when I got home only to realise how major they were. These are the people you could be working with one day or the key to your next opportunity. You need to be remembered as a pleasant and competent person because in order to advance, it really can be about who you know. So greet and say hello to everyone. Even if you’re shy and really awkward, you have to do it! Try to get as many contacts as you can and keep in touch. Whether that be e-mailing them for advice once, thanking them for your experience or offering your time to help them (I recently did this and ended up working at Topshop’s flagship for a few days - score!) This includes fellow interns. A lot of people in the industry started as interns - look at where they are now? Who’s to say that intern on the Mac next you won’t go on to work at a PR firm that might just be hiring, or recommend you when a last minute stylist assistant is needed? Just leave a good impression on everyone you meet, k?

In summary, get off your bottom and seek experience whether that be online or in your local area, get creative with your e-mail, cover letter and CV, always be one step ahead of your editor’s needs and treat everyone with upmost respect. Fashion and the media aren’t as mean as TV and film make them out to be. People tend to be very helpful. The opportunity is there you just have to be willing to go for it!

Now you’re equipped, go get that internship!

Yours truly,


Like the advice? Check out my previous How To’s:

How To Be Organised: From the Least Organised Student in Existence.

How To Revise: A-Level Edition 


Honestly I have no clue where this came from but I’ve been writing it for a while and Fake Dating is my favourite AU of all time so it does fit with day 7.

They don’t know how they ended up here. Honestly. But somehow, a simple comment in a televised interview had made social media blow up within seconds, “Aaron and Robert” trending almost instantly worldwide. Next days’ magazines and newspapers had headlines consisting of “Sugden and Dingle- the hottest new couple?”

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The fandom is supposedly a fun, safe place for me to join and feel free share my love for Vegeta without being judged. I expected that most people in here would have understand each other because most of us have been going through the same things because we love the same character. The first time I joined the fandom was in 2007, when I begin to share my stories on fanfiction dot net. I know I am not that good when I first started but the fandom showed me support and encouraged me to do more. I met lots of good people too, who taught me many things until I was able to improve myself.

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Holding On To You

wordcount: 7071

genre: fluff/angst

warnings: swearing

summary: Phil wishes he knew Dan better, completely and totally, because they’ve only been friends for two years and that’s by far long enough to love Dan and be worried about him, but it’s not enough to recognize all the demons. (aka a bunch of headcanons about the evolution of their dynamic; title from 21p)

The silence has stretched out for over a minute, and Phil lets the tension in his jaw relax. Over. Finally. He lets the bed creak as he stands, a warning that he’s coming, but it’s echoed by a creak in the floorboards in the room over, and Dan’s pacing again.

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anonymous asked:

please,, more Neil being an amazing kisser headcanons I need them

I don’t think this is exactly what you wanted, but it’s what I could come up with and it fits the criteria, so it’s what you’re getting

Aka the story of HOW Neil became such an amazing kisser

Aka the 3rd worst day of Neil’s life

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My Heart Has Died - part 3

It’s s funny thing, trying to fall back in love with someone. It’s not like falling in love for the first time. The first time is simple, easy and effortless, like drifting off to sleep. You don’t have to think about falling asleep, it just comes, like a wave, washing over you and filling your senses until you are plunged in to a pool of unconsciousness. Trying to fall in love with someone for a second time is different. There are so many complications that were just never considered the first time, so many memories and experiences that make you wonder if it is really worth it.

Of course I still loved Harry. But was I still ‘in love’ with him. A heart can only be broken so many times before it gives up completely, and my heart has been broken many times while I have been with Harry.

The first time was when we had our first argument and he called me a bitch. It seems silly and childish now, but it still chipped my heart slightly, to hear such a name fall from his lips, and for that name to be directed at me.

The second time was when he disappeared for 2 days, no note, no text and no phone call. That was after our second argument, about how I felt he was pushing me aside for his friends. He had disappeared to his mothers, a fact I never found out until he returned home and explained everything.

Those heartbreaks were small and easy to recover from, but heartbreaks all the same.

Harry had given me the space I needed, just like I had asked of him. He hadn’t shown up at my door for 3 days, and despite my better judgement, telling me that I should run for the hills, to leave the green eyed boy behind me and get on with my life, I missed him dreadfully. Not having him telling me about his day or the latest TV programme he had watched through the door made me realise that no matter how much I tried to convince myself that his daily visits were a nuisance, I craved his voice, his time and his attention. That week, when he came daily despite my silent pleas for him to leave, was what kept me alive. Kept my heart beating and my lungs breathing. I realised I found myself waking up each morning, looking forward to his arrival at my door and his deep, husky voice whispering words of love, kindness and guilt through the wood.

Of course he didn’t leave me alone completely. Each morning and night I would receive one text from him, the same text:

'I love you’

And every morning I would go to my mail box and find a single red rose taped to the door. It was those things, the small things that made me realise how much I cared for the strange boy with the terrible jokes.

But was caring enough? Can you go through life with one person, and simply care for them. Not love them. I didn’t think so.

Trust is a strange thing. It is something that takes weeks, months even years to build with someone, yet it can be broken in a second. I was never one to trust many people, experience taught me that the few people who deserved my trust were my family and closest friends. Harry was the first person I had let in, the first, outsider (if you will), penetrate my wall and stumble his way in to my heart. I trusted him with my life, I would have told him everything he wanted to know and I would liked to have thought, that I was the same with him. Harry and I are alike in many ways, we a simple people. We like some people, trust a few of them and love even less. It is a curse and a gift, because the fewer people you love, the less likely you are to get your heart broken. But I guess that theory didn’t work out so well for me.

As I lay in bed and stared at the ceiling, I fiddled with the petals of this mornings red rose between my fingers, rubbing my thumb and forefinger back and forth against the smooth, waxy flower. My mind was all over the place, bouncing back and forth between memories of Harry and I in happier times and the present day. I was weighing up my options, balancing out the pros and cons of everything that has happened in the last five years, from meeting Harry, falling in love, moving in with him, having my heart ripped from my body, moving back in to my old flat and to this very moment, where I would either decide if Harry deserves a second chance, or if this was it for us.

I had promised myself when I woke up this morning that I would end both of our suffering today. By tonight I would have my answer and I would tell him what the future held for the both of us, whether that meant together or separately.

It was now three in the afternoon, and I as no closer to making my decision. There was a part of me that thought, 'it was only a kiss, nothing more, how can I be mad about him just kissing someone?’ But then again, the other part of me thought 'what would he have done, if our roles had been reversed? Would he have given me a second chance, or would he have walked away for good?’ It was difficult to tell. I don’t honestly think it was the kissing that was bothering me the most. I think it was the lies. The deceit of him not telling me straight away, of trying to play it off like some paparazzi photoshop when the evidence was right in front of me. I think that hurt the most. But then again, the irrational part of me understood why he did it. He was afraid. Beyond afraid because he knew that once I found out I would walk away and I think if our roles were reversed, I would have been just as terrified.

Why am I making excuses for him? He cheated on me! My mother always said 'once a cheater always a cheater’ but I don’t think that is the case with Harry. He knows that if he screws up again, I am gone for good. No second chances, no remorse, no looking back. It would be the end of us forever.

“How do you fall back in love?” I said out loud to myself, turning my head to the left to look at the vase full of roses which I had placed next to my bed. I sat up and placed the rose in my hand back with the others. I sighed and looked down at the t-shirt I was wearing. It was Harry’s. It was far too baggy on me, the neckline hanging low across my chest and the hem falling mid-thigh. It still smelled like him. It was a glorious smell. Looking at my reflection in the mirror opposite my bed, the girl who greeted me was so different from days ago. She had more colour in her face, the dark circles under her eyes had all but disappeared, her hair was washed, her eyes were brighter and she didn’t look as thin. The moment after Harry left my apartment a couple of days ago, the first thing I did was take a shower. It was the most amazing feeling, having all the dirt, grease and grim scrubbed from my body and washed down the drain. The next thing I did was eat and to my delight, I managed to keep everything down. My diet was almost back to normal now, with the exception of my dinners being slightly smaller. I still couldn’t have full meals yet.

It was Harry, he brought about this change. Seeing him in front of me, looking as bad as I did made me realise that I was not the only one suffering here, we were both prisoners in our own minds, being eaten alive by our misery. His kiss stirred something deep within me, a fire that I thought had been extinguished the day I left him. But sure enough, each day when I received his text and found his roses, that fire began to burn a little bit brighter, warming me from the inside out.

I sighed and shook my head, still looking at my reflection in the mirror.

“You’re a fool” I said to myself, a small smile playing at the corner of my lips, “a love-sick fool”.

Picking up my phone I quickly dialled Harry’s number before pressing the device to my ear. He picked up after only two rings.

“Y/N” he breathed down the line. His voice was soft.

“Hi” I said.

“Hello my love” he replied, “how are you?” He asked.

“M'good. I was wondering it you could-uh, if you come over at some point, today maybe” I stuttered. He breathed out softly before replying.

“I’ll be over in 5 minutes gorgeous” he said, before hanging up. 5 minutes, right 5 minutes, time to get changed, I thought. Slipping off Harry’s t-shirt I quickly threw on a cream jumper and a pair of navy skinny jeans. I tied my hair up in a high ponytail and bushed my teeth. True to his word, Harry was at my door in five minutes, knocking softly on the wood.

I paused for a moment, breathed in deeply and opened the door. He looked better. His face was flushed with more colour than before and he looked less tired, his long, brown hair freshly washed and hanging loosely around his face. He was dressed in a loose, grey hoodie, tight black jeans and black boots. In one of his hands he held a bunch of red roses. He smiled and handed them to me without saying a word. I thanked him and stepped aside gesturing for him to enter before closing the door. It was silent between us. Neither of us knowing what to say. I could feel a nervous energy radiating off Harry, like he wasn’t sure of what was going to come next, was he going to be leaving with the promise that I would try to forgive him, or would he be leaving heartbroken and alone? For me, the answer became clear as soon as I opened the door and was greeted by his overwhelming scent and bright smile. This beautiful boy was mine, and if he won’t hurt me again, I won’t let him slip through my fingers.

“I-uh, I don’t really know what to say” Harry said, a nervous laugh slipping past his lips as he scratched the back of his neck.

“I do,” I said and he looked at me nervously, “you’re a dick”.

His face fell and his shoulders deflated. He nodded his head. “Yeah, I’m a dick” he agreed.

“And you’re an idiot” I said. He nodded again.

“And I’m an idiot”.

“And you have hurt me Harry, very much” I said, he looked at me with sad eyes.

“And I have hurt you Y/N, very much” he said.

“But my god I love you” I said. His eyes widened and he opened his mouth to speak but before he got the chance I had leapt in to his arms and pressed my lips firmly against his. He responded in seconds, with just as much, if not more, enthusiasm than I was putting in to it. He sighed in relief and held my body tightly against his, winding his free hand in to my hair. I wrapped my legs tightly around his body and ran one of my hands through his hair, the other resting on his shoulder. Despite Harry’s protests I pulled away. He whined and tried to kiss me again but I turned my head away with a giggle.

“3 months I haven’t kissed you and that’s all I get?” He asked with a cheeky smile.

“Yes, for now. I’m still mad at you” I said, pushing his long hair away from his face and behind his ear.

“Oh my baby I know. I’m so sorry Y/N, I’m so, so sorry” he said.

“I know Harry” I said, kissing his forehead softly.

“Oh my girl” he said, resting his forehead on mine. He set me down on my feet but didn’t let me go, he kept a firm grip on my hip, his left hand still on my cheek and playing with a loose strand of my hair.

“Please don’t hurt me again Harry” I whispered.

“Never again my love. I can’t lose you again. I was so scared Y/N, so scared that you wouldn’t take me back, tell me to piss off and never talk to me again” he said, his thumb stroking back and forth against my cheek.

“I was so alone” I said, a single tear sliding down my cheek. Harry caught it and wiped it away.

“You aren’t alone anymore my love. Neither of us are alone anymore” he said, before pressing his lips back against mine.

It would take time to get back to where we were, that I am certain of. To build up the trust and love like we used to have. But it could be done. We could get past this. If anyone could fix my dead heart, it was him and deep down I knew he would spend the rest of his life, trying to fix what he had broken.

Getting to know Bucky Barnes

Pairing: Reader x Bucky

Word Count: 3,647

Warnings: None

A/N: Requests are open

“Morning Barnes,” You say as you walk into the kitchen in Avengers Tower. You were usually the first one up but quickly after James’s arrival last week you had gotten demoted to second.  Just like every other day James doesn’t acknowledge your existence, leaving you to make your coffee in silence. You thought it a good idea to make breakfast while the others were still sleeping, that way you wouldn’t have to ward off people, Tony, trying to steal food while you were cooking.

You decided on pancakes, bacon and scrambled eggs since they were all quick and easy things to make. You already had enough to feed a small nation cooked by the time the others started drifting in, which was good because Thor would eat about half of that.

As the others slowly filled in they would make their plates and sit down, none more than minutes apart, this resulted in all of the Avengers sitting around the table chatting about mundane things and the occasional compliment on your cooking. As always when one of the Avengers made breakfast once everyone finished it was left to a game of ‘Nose goes’ to figure out who would clean the mess. “Nose goes!” you yelled putting your finger on your nose and waiting for the other to process what was going on. Not even a second later the chatter stopped and everyone was yelling “Nose goes,” trying not to be last. The loser ended up being James, seeing as he neglected to participate at all, most likely not understanding the reasoning behind doing so.

“Snowflake is last, he’s got dish duty,” Tony said over his shoulder as he was already halfway to the elevators. Everyone filters out one by one and you, begrudgingly, get up to get dressed for the day. After doing so you walk back out into the kitchen and find James struggling with the dishes and occasionally mumbling under his breath in Russian. You stand silently in the doorway for a few more moments observing the ex- assassin struggle and you decided to help.

“Need some help there Barnes?” you asked making your presence known. James seemed startled for a second but then his gaze hardened on you as he silently willed you away. You just shrugged and started picking up glasses from around the table anyways and carrying them over to the sink. After you both had nearly finished the dishes James did something that surprised you.

“Thank you,” he said, barely loud enough to be heard.  He had his head ducked so he could hide behind a curtain of hair, therefore successfully avoiding your gaze.

“And so he speaks,” you said sarcastically seeing as this was the first time he had even said two words to you since he arrived at the tower. You smiled a soft smile and decided it was best to not leave it at a sarcastic remark “Anytime,” you said and dried your hands before walking away and towards the elevator to go run errands.

As the next few months came to pass James slowly came out of his shell more and more towards you, thus making you, Steve, and Natasha the only people he would talk to in the tower, and you the only one to call him James rather than Bucky. It started with him acknowledging you when you came out every morning and saying thank you after you two became the regular dishwashers. Slowly he would start conversations with you, and eventually you convinced him to help you with breakfast, which took you just as long to teach him how to make.

“Mornin’ James,” you chime as you walk into the kitchen to see James half asleep over his cup of coffee, most likely his 2nd, he sleepily mummers out a good morning, still not fully able to function, and you start on breakfast. Today you opt to make porridge as it was simpler to make and was considerably quicker than anything else. After quickly popping some in the crockpot you made a cup of coffee and plopped down next to James, who was slightly more awake than before. After deciding to keep the peaceful silence you pull your phone out and decide to scroll through Tumblr. Most bloggers on this site were still stuck on Stucky, no matter how many girls Steve dated or how many time he said he wasn’t gay, not that he didn’t support the queer community he just wasn’t a member of it. You chuckle as a, very obviously photoshopped, picture of Steve and James kissing ends up on your dash. You never really saw how they could’ve been anything but platonic but you also saw behind the closed doors of Avengers tower which is something not many did get a front row seat to.

Avengers started filtering in and you took that as your queue to start making your porridge, settling on putting a few strawberries and some cinnamon in it. After grabbing a spoon you sat down next James who was still practically asleep in his coffee. “Hey James, go make your food,” you said nudging his shoulder. James turned his head and gave you a look as if you had kicked a puppy, but you knew that look had a whole different meaning. “Blueberries?” you asked, sighing as you got up.

“Please,” James said weakly into his coffee and you absentmindedly nodded and got his breakfast and a spoon. As you were putting the food in front of James, Tony walked into the kitchen with a bit of extra pep in his step.

“What’s got you so chipper, Tony?” you ask before turning your attention back to your breakfast.

“All of you need to clear your plans for Sunday, we are throwing a party,” Tony said causing you, along with everyone else in the room, to groan. Last time you guys, Tony, threw a party ended with a near code green and Thor causing the biggest lightning storm in New York since you don’t even know when.

“Isn’t Sunday Valentine’s day?” you heard Steve say from the other end of the table. Most of the team weren’t forever alone like you were so you could see how this could be a problem.

“Oh is it really I hadn’t noticed,” Tony said sarcasm dripping off of every word, “It’s a Valentine’s party, duh.” You heard James start to mumble in Russian and a few of the words you had learned from the months of trying to catch him up to movies and music and hearing him yell those few choice words at the tv.

“And you got Pepper to agree to this?” Bruce asked the obvious question. Pepper wasn’t overly fond of Tony’s parties and now he’s throwing one on the day literally centered on love, he must’ve done something big to get her to agree to this.

“She doesn’t know yet,” Tony said, and there was your explanation, “it’s going to be a surprise.” The worst idea he’s had since… yesterday.

The rest of breakfast was filled with chatter from around the table but you had fallen into a comfortable silence trying to figure out why James would be so angry about Tony throwing a party on Valentine’s Day. Did he have a date? Although you doubt that was the case seeing as the only people he ever talked to were you, Steve, Natasha and occasionally Sam. He probably just wasn’t looking forward to the crowds. That had to be it.

As everyone started to trickle out, dumping their dishes in the sink before doing so, you got up and started to put away all the fruits and spices that were set out to put in the porridge. Once you and James were the only ones left you decided to ask him why he was so angry so you could stop over thinking everything. The truth was you’ve developed a small crush on the ex-assassin as you got to know him better. “You know I don’t speak much Russian but from what I could understand you had a few choice words for Tony after he said something about throwing a party Valentine’s Day, what was that about? Have a hot date I don’t know about?” you asked trying to play it off as curiosity rather than worry.

James chuckled and you could’ve swooned at the sound. “Yeah,” James said and you could feel yourself deflate, “because I talk to only for people but I’m totally taking Steve out,” James finished and you couldn’t help but laugh because you always teased James about the ship of him and Steve because he found it more amusing than anything.

“Oh, really? You can just take him to the party then, it’ll be like when you took him to see Howard Starks flying car because at some point we’re going to have a drunk Tony trying to get in a suit and show off,” you said laughing harder and James joining you.

“What about you? Any secret plans I hadn’t heard about?” James asked and you started laughing so hard you nearly fell on the floor.

“You mean besides raiding Tony’s hidden ice cream freezer and watching Disney movies?” You ask sarcastically. In all reality Tony and you had been close for many years; you were nearly inseparable in high school despite the grade, and age, gap. In school, you were one year behind Tony but having been the nerd you were you had been taking classes a few grades above the normal level and you had met him in engineering. You had also skipped two grades so you ended up being 16 when you graduated. In Tony’s eyes, you were his little sister he never had and you made sure he was taking care of himself after his parents’ death. Nobody wanted to mess with Starks little sister so you were forever alone. “Anyways now I have to go shopping for this stupid party,” you said with a sigh.

“You’re going?” James asked tilting his head to the side a little which always reminded you of a puppy dog.

“Of course, I’ll never be able to hear my movie over the party and there will be sweets, I mean it’s a Valentine’s party, if Tony doesn’t think to have it be nearly all sweets then he can no longer hold being smarter than me over my head,” you said chuckling.

“Good point. I’ll still probably stick with my room, though,” James said shaking his head.

“Oh come on don’t make me face those peasants alone. It’ll be fun,” you said pouting and pulling his metal arm playfully.

“Peasants?” James questioned your choice of words and chuckled once more when you nodded. “You’ll have Steve and Natasha (Y/N),” James said and you pulled his metal arm again.

“Steve will be surrounded by girls the second he walks through the doors and Natasha will probably blow it off and go out with Clint. Please,” you said trying your best not to smile.

“I don’t know what to wear to something like that,” James rebutted but you had already thought of that.

“You can come shopping with me or I can pick something up for you,” You said giving his arm one last tug and letting go. “Please,” you said looking up at the giant from under your eyelashes and pouting.

James sighed, “Fine, but you owe me,” he finally mumbled and you fist pumped the air and mumbled something along the lines of ‘yeah’.

“So are you joining me on my shopping trip or am I picking something up for you?” you asked excitedly.

James contemplated his options for a second for a second. “I’ll come with you so you don’t get something stupid like a cupid costume or something,” James said and you started laughing at the thought.

“Okay, go get dressed and meet me at the elevator in like 20 minutes,” You say and head off to your room to get dressed.  You decide to dress comfy since you will most likely be changing quite a bit. For make-up, you quickly put on eyeliner wings, mascara and a quick layer of tinted chapstick. With one last quick mirror check, you walked out into the hall to meet James and head to the mall.

A few days have come to pass since your and James’s outing and today is Valentine’s Day and you have 2 hours to get ready before meeting up with James and Steve to go to the party. You put on music from your phone deciding to start with ‘Anything’ by Hedley and let shuffle take over from there. Sitting in your bathroom you curl your hair in loose ringlets, you do you eye makeup as a brown smokey eye, and a matte burgundy lipstick and paint your nails white. After your nails finish drying you go and get dressed. You pull on opaque black tights, a strapless dress that’s skirt is burgundy and the top part is white and has a sweetheart neckline, you put on the shoes you found with James that are suede 5-inch oxford heels the same shade burgundy as you dress. To finish the look you put a white rose clip in your hair and a necklace with a red heart pendant on a black ribbon.  You grab your phone and check the time and see you are running right on schedule. You drop your room key, lipstick tube, and phone into your dresses pocket, take one more check in the mirror to make sure you look good and head out the door. The party was going to be on the floor above you so James, Steve, and yourself agreed to meet at the elevator.

Your stomach felt like it was in knots as you walked out of your room. When James and you went shopping you had only picked up the shoes, lipstick, and the hair rose so he hadn’t actually seen your outfit and even though he wasn’t technically your date he was your crush and you still cared what he thought more than the world. As you walked down the hallway to the elevator you could hear James and Steve talking but you couldn’t really make out what they were saying but as you got closer you were able to make out your name being said and you smirked as you walked around the corner.

“Hello boys, you called?” you said in a thick accent trying to inmate Crowley from Supernatural. You rounded the corner to find Steve and James talking. Immediately the boys stopped talking and their eyes turned to you. Steve and James were dressed just about the same, a nice dress shirt tucked into dark jeans with dress shoes. The only difference was James was wearing a red dress shirt and Steve was wearing a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up some. “So are we going to go to the party or are we going to stand here all night?” you ask sarcastically suddenly uncomfortable with the eyes on you. You walk across the room and press the up button to the elevator and step in when it arrives.

As soon as the doors open again music is filling the elevator and you smile as you grab the boys and drag them out. As predicted girls flocked Steve immediately and you decided to fight him out of the girls grips was not a battle you were up for tonight. You lead James directly over to the bar, which is the least crowded place. As the night goes on James migrates to the dance floor but you stay by the bar, still not drunk enough to actually dance in front of people. Somebody sits down next to you and when you turn to find Steve you smile. “Get tired of the fangirls throwing themselves all over you?” You ask and he chuckles.

“To say the least. Why are you alone, though, wasn’t the entire point of dragging James up here so you wouldn’t be alone?” Steve asks you.

“He got swept away to the dance floor by some girl in a dress that looked about two sizes too small,” you said trying not to sound too sour about it.

“Well he’s alone right now, why don’t you go dance with him?” Steve asked, he had been one of the only people informed on your crush on James so he was always trying to get you to admit it to James or to make a move or something but you were always too shy, but right now you were just buzzed enough to go for it.

“I think I will,” you say as you stand up and head towards James. James smiles down at you when you reach him. “Hey,” you shout over the music as just as it change to ‘Photograph’ by Ed Sheeran.

“Care to dance?” James asks and you smile and nod. You felt like you were in high school again at your prom. You started lightly sing the lyrics to the song as you wished you could stay in this moment forever but you knew it had to end at one point.

“I think I’m going to head to bed. See you in the morning,” you say to James as the song goes over.

“Do you want me to walk with you?” he questions but you shake your head and make your way over to the elevator. When the elevator comes you get in and immediately take off your heels, feeling an instant relief. If it was possible to walk any slower than you were on the way to your room you would be amazed because you felt like a sloth, the second you got into your room you dropped your shoes next to the door, took the rose out of your hair and went started toward your bathroom to take off your makeup but as soon as you got there you heard a knock on your door causing you to groan and shuffle like a zombie back to your door.

When you opened your door you found James standing there looking slightly anxious. “Hey,” you said sleepily and leaned against the dresser next to your door. Absentmindedly you started playing with your necklace.

“Hey (Y/N), I couldn’t bring myself to let you go to sleep without telling you that you looked gorgeous,” James said and you blushed and looked at your feet.

“Thank you,” you mumbled still focusing on your feet.

“Okay well you can go to bed now, sorry to have disturbed you,” James said slightly hurried and turned to walk away.
“Wait,” you said, grabbing James at the wrist and turning him back toward you, and maybe it was a surge of confidence from the compliment and booze or maybe you were too tired to think it through properly but the next thing you knew your lips were on James’s and you were trying to stand as high on possible on your tip toes but still you had to pull him down to meet you. When you realized what you were doing you backed up and blushed even worse. “S-sorry I don’t know what I was thinking,” you said looking at the ground. “I-I’ll see you tomorrow,” You stuttered as you started to close the door but you were stopped by James.

You looked up and saw James was looking at you with his adorable head tilt trying to figure you out, and then he leaned down and kissed you again. You were shocked for a second but then your eyes fluttered shut and your lips started to move in sync with his. The kiss was slow and passionate. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while now,” James says when he breaks the kiss and you smile leaning your forehead against his.

“Me too,” you say in response and finally open your (E/C) eyes to meet James’s icy blue ones and you knew that your life would never be the same again.


The next day you and James emerge together much later than usual. Everyone else is already eating breakfast, which was cereal, or pop-tarts in Thor’s case since you hadn’t made anything, and when you and James walked in together you could see Natasha, Pepper, and Stevie smile since they were the only ones you had told about the crush. As soon as Tony notices you two his face goes hard and he grabs you both dragging you back out of the room, you crack a smile until he opens his mouth.

“Really (Y/N), you screwed snowflake over here?” Tony said and your face went completely blank.

“Not that it’s any of your business Ton Ton but, James and I feel asleep talking, mostly about some crazy shit like why bananas and lemons aren’t called yellow’s if oranges are called orange,” you say leaning against James with your arms crossed, “Also don’t act like that isn’t exactly what you and Pepper did the second you two got together.”

“Actually, we didn’t,” Tony says matter-of-factly.

“That’s only because I made you wait!” you hear Pepper shout from the kitchen and you start dying of laughter while a blush spreads across Tony’s face.

“Let’s go get breakfast,” James says after kissing the top of your head and lazily slinging an arm over your shoulder.

anonymous asked:

4/4 they cheat?

Omg this is such a sad one :( I hope you enjoy it though!


You make your way through the front door of the house that you share with your boyfriend, Calum. You can already feel your eyes threatening to close from exhaustion before you’ve even made it a step inside the house. Work has been extremely stressful lately, and you have hardly had the energy to do anything except sleep. You’ve even lost weight because you don’t have time to eat anymore.

You slowly trudge up the stairs, wanting nothing more than to strip out of your work clothes and collapse onto your bed. You’re about to push open the door to your bedroom when you suddenly hear noises coming from inside. Calum shouldn’t be home yet, so you instantly freeze, thinking that somebody has broken in.

You quietly push the door open and the sight that greets you is worse than any home invasion. Calum, your boyfriend of two years, is on top of some naked girl in your bed. Their lips are connected, and they’re both too distracted to notice your presence.

“C-Calum,” you mumble when you finally find your voice after a few seconds.

His head immediately snaps up and he looks at you with wide eyes. He stumbles out of bed, quickly pulling on a pair of boxers and walking toward you. You hold up your hand when he gets within a few feet, signaling for him to stop.

“Don’t,” you whisper, too upset to be angry right now.

You walk past him and go into your closet, your mind still picturing your boyfriend on top of that girl. You can hear him telling her to get dressed and leave as you begin throwing some of your clothes into an overnight bag. You know that you’ll need more than this, but you’ll have to come back for it later. You just need to get away from him right now.

When you walk back out of the closet, the girl is gone, and Calum is now fully dressed. He has tears on his cheeks, and he’s staring at you with his mouth open as if he wants to say something but can’t. You ignore him and walk into the bathroom, quickly tossing a few essentials into your bag before going back into the bedroom. He’s still standing in the same spot, frozen.

“I’ll come back for the rest of my things later,” you tell him quietly, your eyes never leaving the floor.

He starts to walk toward you, but you take a step back, still refusing to look at him.

“(Y/N), please,” he says, his voice breaking. “I made a mistake. I’m sorry. Please stay so I can fix this.”

You just shake your head. You had been cheated on before, and Calum knew that. He’d promised you time and time again that he would never hurt you like that, and now he has. You don’t even know what to feel at this point, but you know that you’ll never be able to forgive him.

You walk toward the door, stopping one last time to glance at him.

“I hope she was worth it,” you say before walking out the door and leaving Calum forever.


You look at the clock for what seems like the thousandth time tonight. You are supposed to be going on a date with your boyfriend, Ashton, tonight, but he’s almost half an hour late. You’d tried calling him, but it just kept going straight to voicemail.

He’d been acting a little off ever since the boys got back from the first leg of their world tour. They were on break for a little over a month, and Ashton had come home to spend time with you. However, he’d been back for over a week and he’d hardly spent any time with you at all. And when he was with you, he hardly said anything.

A knock at the door starts to put your nerves at ease. You quickly straighten out your dress and run your fingers quickly through your hair before opening the door. Ashton is standing outside, his eyes looking down at his feet instead of at you.

He’s in his sweatpants, clearly not dressed for a date. You frown.

“Ash,” you say. “I thought we were going out tonight?”

He looks up at you, and you can see that he has a few tears pooling in his eyes.

“Babe,” you whisper, reaching out and taking his large hand in both of yours. “What’s wrong?”

He doesn’t answer for a few seconds, his eyes just roaming your face desperately.

“Do you want to come in?” You ask when he continues to stay silent.

He shakes his head. “I can’t. I just came to tell you something.”

Your heart drops. He’s going to break up with you, you just know it. Your mind starts to race as you try to figure out where things might have gone wrong, but you just can’t pinpoint it.

“I-I cheated on you,” he finally says.

Your heart shatters, and your breaths get caught in your throat. You don’t know how to respond. You honestly never thought that you would ever find yourself in this position.

He clears his throat before continuing. “While I was on tour, the boys and I went out one night. We all got super drunk and the next morning I woke up with some stranger in my bed. I don’t remember a thing, but I feel like the shittiest person in the world for letting you down.”

You’re still fumbling for words. You can feel tears starting to roll down your cheeks, but you don’t bother to wipe them away.

“I know you’ll need time,” he continues, his voice nearly as weak as you feel. “But I do love you, so much, and I hope that one day you’ll be able to forgive me. I’ll always wait for you, (Y/N). And if you decide to give me another chance, I promise I will never let you down again.”

He waits a few minutes to see if you’re going to say anything, but when you don’t, he looks back down at his feet. He sighs sadly and turns around, walking off of your porch and leaving you heartbroken.


Your eyes scan over every inch of the photo that’s been shared to your twitter over a thousand times. You zoom in on it and examine it from every angle, trying to convince yourself that it’s photoshopped. It looks real, though. Really real.

You don’t even notice the tears that have started running down your face until they start to land in little droplets on your phone screen. You close out of Twitter and close your eyes, trying to convince yourself that this is all just some fucked up nightmare.

Unfortunately, it’s not. This is real life. And your boyfriend who supposedly loves you has been photographed making out with another girl. It’s not just any girl. No, it’s some stick-thin model that you’d seen him with before but he swore that he was ‘just friends’ with. You suddenly feel incredibly stupid for ever believing his lies. You should’ve known what was going on, but you were too infatuated with him to notice anything.

You angrily pick up a pillow from the couch that you’re sitting on and throw it across the living room, accidentally hitting a lamp and making it fall and shatter on the floor. You get up and walk upstairs to you guys’ shared bedroom. You quickly stuff a few items into a suitcase and zip it up. You then make your way back downstairs and into the kitchen, pulling out a notepad and a pen.

You don’t have the strength to face Luke in person right now, so you’ll need to get out before he comes home. You quickly scribble a note on the paper, your hand shaking and making your writing almost illegible.

I saw the pictures. I know you’re cheating on me. I don’t know why I wasn’t good enough for you, but I’m sorry for letting you down. It sounds stupid to say that I was the one to let you down when you’re the one who cheated, but I guess you must’ve had a good reason.

 I hope you find happiness with her. I’ll send someone to come get my things later. Please don’t try to contact me. I don’t want to work this out. I’ll always love you, but I’m done. Goodbye, Luke.
- (Y/N)


You sit on the opposite end of the couch from your boyfriend, Michael, your entire body trembling with anger as you lock your eyes on the floor, refusing to look at him.

“Babe,” he says, his voice pleading.

You shake your head. “Don’t call me that.”

“Come on,” he says, scooting down to your end of the couch.

He places his hand on your thigh, but you quickly stand up and walk out of the room. You stomp up the stairs and walk to you guys’ bedroom. You collapse face-first onto your bed and breathe heavily as you try to calm yourself down.
You hear him come up the stairs behind you and soon you feel the bed dip as he sits down on it. He rubs his hand soothingly up and down your back as you try your best to ignore his existence.

“(Y/N),” he says. “I think you’re overreacting.”

You sit up and glare at him. “Overreacting? Michael you fucking cheated!”

He puts his hands up in defense, backing away slightly at your intense glare. “It was only Mario Kart, babe. I’m sorry.”

You huff, still annoyed. You had been winning on the final race of you guys’ three race battle, and at the last second he had reached over and shoved you off the couch, making you drop your controller and lose the race.

“Wanna have a rematch?” He asks. “I promise not to cheat this time.”

You cross your arms, debating your answer. Finally you nod in agreement. “But I get to be Yoshi,” you say.

“No fair!” He says, looking genuinely betrayed.

You laugh. “That’s what you get for cheating, Clifford.”

I hope Michael’s made you smile :) after writing the first three I couldn’t take anymore of the feels lol

greenbergsays  asked:

What about a media fic that plays on the #TeamCap /#TeamIronMan promos going on right now for CW? Except when it comes to Steve making a public statement about it, he declares himself #TeamBuckyBarnes. The reason behind the feud between Steve & Tony is up to you.

“This is your fault,” Bucky hisses, and Sam doesn’t even have the decency to look a little sorry. Well, he looks a little sorry, but Bucky thinks that’s mostly because Tony has photoshopped Sam into a revealing Ironman suit and posted it on social media. “You’re the one that taught Steve how to use the internet!”

“That was a public service,” Sam mumbles back, both of them crouched behind a sofa, because Tony and Steve had started trying to claim the rest of the Avengers by snapping pictures of them with their phones. Sam might have taught Steve how to use the internet, but he hadn’t taught him to turn off the automatic flash.

“I think it was a public disservice,” Natasha informs him, holding up her phone, email filled with notifications that #TeamIronman and #TeamCap are trending on a host of sites Bucky is more than happy not to know. “They’re going to burst that vein in Maria’s forehead.”

Sam makes a face and on the other side of the room Tony squawks at Rhodey over the phone, furious that the U.S. government won’t post Tony’s selfie with a bald eagle and a flag. “I don’t know what you’re doing,” Rhodey declares, with the familiarity of someone who’s said that to Tony Stark for over twenty years, “but you can’t just put the government on your dodgeball team, Tony.”

“What are they doing?” Clint asks, ducking back behind the sofa after trying to fire a foam dart at Steve’s phone. “Does anyone remember?”

“I think it started because Steve had more Instagram followers,” Sam ventures, but he doesn’t look very sure. “Or Tony had more Twitter followers? Or Tony’s annoying on Twitter, and Steve keeps retweeting him with sarcastic emojis?”

It could have been any of those things, Bucky admits, scrubbing a hand over the back of his neck, since all of them were true. Steve is going to fill up the entire internet cloud, with all the weird pictures he keeps taking, crooked flowers and New York sidewalk cracks and several of Bucky’s blurry hand when he tries to take pictures of Bucky’s face and gets his middle finger instead. Steve puts them in sepia tones and posts them anyway, because Steve is a jackass—but one with a few million followers, and he does tend to make fun of Tony’s weird Twitter proclamations. Though, to Steve’s credit, “I am omnipotent in the lab!” was sort of begging to be misread.

“And what are the hashtags supposed to do?” Bruce asks, sitting on the couch like a normal person, because even Tony and Steve aren’t stupid enough to harass the Hulk. “Prove which of them can get more bad press?”

“Nick’s going to kill them,” Natasha opines, and looks a little relieved at the thought.

“Fix this,” Bucky growls at Sam.

Sam raises his eyebrows. “Man, what do you want me to do? I can’t cure stupid.”

“All right,” Bucky announces, keeping his metal arm in front of his face as he stalks out from behind the sofa and grabs Steve by the arm, hauling two hundred pounds of idiocy toward the elevator. “That’s it. We’re going home.”

The next morning Bucky wakes up to a text from Natasha. “You’re Instafabulous,” it says, and there’s an attached screenshot of Bucky’s face, lax with sleep, drool at the corner of his mouth and the angle half up his nose. “New Team Captain!” the caption declares, with #TeamBucky and #CantTopThis underneath in blue.

“Steve,” Bucky shouts, kicking off the sheets and prowling into their living room, where Steve is sitting in front of their desktop with an enormous grin. “Steven Grant Rogers, what the hell is this?” he snaps, waving his phone too close to Steve’s face for him to possibly make out the picture, but Steve already knows what it is.

“The internet loves you, Buck,” Steve says sweetly, patting Bucky’s cheek and looking unrepentant even when Bucky tries to bite his hand. “There’s no way Tony will win now!”

“Win what?” Bucky groans, and debates breaking his phone on Steve’s thick head, but decides he’d rather go back to sleep and never visit the internet again.

Steve catches his wrist as Bucky turns away, biting at his lower lip, eyes wide even though Bucky knows he isn’t sorry at all. “I love you even more than the internet does,” Steve promises, probably because Bucky stomped into the living room without putting on clothes, and Steve can be sweet when he wants to get laid.

“If you take pictures of this, I’m joining Tony’s team,” Bucky warns, but he lets Steve take him back to bed. (If he texts a few people on the way, if by that afternoon all Tony and Steve’s accounts are sadly corrupted and demolished and gone—well, he’s done the world a public service, and Steve never has to know.)

5SOS Preference: High School Sweethearts


It was only a few years after high school when things started going wrong. The two of you began fighting over the smallest things. After constant fighting you were both completely drained. So instead of arguing, you just didn’t speak to each other. That was even worse though. You felt alone, even when he was right next to you.

As you thought about everything, it became clear. You and Luke weren’t together because you loved each other. That’s how it used to be, but now, it was obvious that you were together because it was easier that way. You were familiar with each other. Being with him was easier than having to look for the one person you’re supposed to be with. But you didn’t want easy anymore, you just wanted to be loved and cared for by someone that was as madly in love with you as were with them.

When Luke came home you told him that you needed to talk. He was confused by the seriousness of your tone, since you hadn’t had a serious conversation with him in so long. It was hard. You still cared about him, and deep down you still loved him. But you also knew it wasn’t enough.

Silent tears streaked your face as you came up with the right words. But no matter what you said it would still feel wrong. Luke was shocked at first, but it was something he had seen coming for a while. It was incredibly obvious that the two of you weren’t as happy as you once were.

You spent one last night together. Secretly hoping that maybe this one night would rekindle what was left of your relationship. But it didn’t. There was nothing left. You kept telling yourself that it was just bad timing. You were still young, you had a lot of growing up to do. As did Luke. So maybe, just maybe, someday that fire would be lit again. Maybe you would get married and have a family with him. But those are only what ifs and hopeful thoughts. More than likely, you would never be together again. But no matter what, he would always be your first love.


He never forgave himself for what he had done. It was something he had lived with for three years. Guilt weighing him down, for three years.

It was a cloudy Saturday afternoon, Michael had brought you out to a big field where he had a picnic set up for the two of you. You had spent a few hours just cuddling, kissing and talking about the future. A few rain drops fell, making you look up at the sky, Michael doing the same. You smiled, somehow feeling like the rain made it even more romantic. It started raining harder and you both ran to the truck, leaving the blanket and basket of food behind. You were both laughing and just feeling so happy being with each other. By the time Michael had made it to the road, the rain was pouring down so bad that you could barely see the road. Thunder roared loudly and you unbuckled your seatbelt leaning over the back seat to look for your phone.

“Babe, what are you doing?” Michael asked while turning the wind shield wipers up a notch. “I’m looking for my phone, so I can check the weather. This storm looks like it’s gonna get pretty bad.” You replied, rummaging around in your bag. Just as you clasped your fingers around the device, Michael let out a gasp. Suddenly he hit the breaks and jerked the steering wheel, trying to avoid hitting the massive eighteen wheeler head on. But the car began to slide sideways, making the big truck collide with the passenger side of the vehicle. Michael’s vision was blurry but he blinked a few times, making it clearer. There was blood and shattered glass everywhere. He looked down to see your body on his side, lying halfway in his lap. Everything was happening so fast that he could barely process what was going on.

“Y/N” he suddenly choked out when he seen that you were out cold. He placed his hand on your shoulders and shook you trying to wake you up, but it was no use. He cupped your face and began to sob, begging you to wake up. The other driver had called an ambulance and ran to check if you were both okay, he had only sustained a few scratches and bruises. Michael hadn’t even noticed that his leg was broken in three places, and he had a massive gash to the side of his forehead.


Michael walked through the quiet, white hallway, with a bundle of fresh flowers in his hand. He slowly opened the door, seeing that no one else was in the room. He made his way over to the vase and took out the flowers that were already occupying it, only to replace them with the new ones. He sat in the chair next to the bed and took your cold hand into his own. He began talking to you. Telling you about things that have happened recently. Telling you about his life and about your family and friends. Just talking to you. Even if you couldn’t hear him, even if you’d been in a coma for three years, he would still talk to you. Because he loves you with every ounce of his being. He would give up anything for you. And as long as your still in there somewhere he won’t give up, because you’re the love of his life. Because he wants you and only you, and he won’t let something like this change that. He won’t give up on you, because you are, and always will be, his high school sweetheart.


‘Has Calum Hood finally moved on after ending his five year relationship with high school sweetheart Y/N?’

You take in a shaky breathe and set the magazine back down. You wanted to know if it was true, but you knew it would hurt to much to read about. After picking up what you needed from the store you head back to your dorm. After the break-up you just decided to move onto campus because you didn’t have the money for a new house. Calum offered to help, but you told him no. You didn’t need anything from him, because he broke you.

You had been fighting over some picture of him kissing some girl. At first you thought it was just photoshopped, but then you found a video of the same girl at the club Calum was at. On the same night. Only a few seconds into the video you noticed her and Calum were really close. Not kissing, but he had his hand on her waist and she was leaning against him. It was enough for you. You couldn’t handle watching them together anymore, so you closed the laptop and thought about what you were going to do. After 5 years, how could he do something like this? You thought both of you were happy, but after watching that, you weren’t so sure. It was a difficult decision, you leaving. It was something you knew would hurt even more than watching that stupid video. But what else were you going to do? Cheating was something you didn’t tolerate. It happened to your mother and father. It tore your family apart.

Once Calum got wind of the situation he was quick to start defending himself. But you wouldn’t have any of it. You were done. He told you it wasn’t true and you told him you had seen a video but he had no idea what you were even talking about. So you left, leaving both of you heartbroken.

After getting back to your room you put away the things you bought and sit down to finish up some work. About thirty minutes later there’s a knock on your door. When you open the door you feel like someone just knocked the breath out of you.

“I know what you were talking about” He says. You look at him confused and shake your head, but before you can ask, he continues, “I saw the video. You know you said you saw one of me and some girl. But did you watch the whole thing?”

You look at him in disbelief, why is he here telling you about the video that ended your relationship? “I didn’t need to watch it all, Calum. The sight of you two all cuddled up was enough.” You answer angrily.

Suddenly he walks into the room and plops down on your couch, pulling your laptop closer to him. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” You ask still standing at the door, puzzled.

“I’m showing you that I was telling the truth. This girl, I thought she was a fan, but now I know she was just using me for attention from the media. Anyways, she’s the one from that picture, it was photoshopped by the way. And here, watch the video, the reason we were like that is because she asked for a picture.”

As you sat on the couch looking at the screen you see them both turn and smile towards someone, and then you see a flash. As soon as the picture is taken Calum releases her and starts to walk away. When you look back at Calum he’s looking at you with pleading eyes. Begging you to finally believe him. You take a deep breath and frown your eyebrows. “How do I know that the picture was fake?”

He quickly pulls up something else from his twitter. It’s a tweet from a fan, with the picture of the girl and Calum, but it’s in a collage with a picture of the girl and some other guy, kissing, and a picture of you and Calum kissing. The fan explains that she found the picture on Instagram, and clearly the girl used it to photoshop herself kissing Calum.

You look at him with wide eyes feeling guilty for not believing him. “Cal, I-I… I’m so sorry, I should’ve be-”

“Don’t apologize. If I had seen what you had, I would’ve believed it too. But now that you know the truth will you come home? We can forget about all of this. Just please, please come back home.”

You quickly throw your arms around him and bury your face in his neck. “Of course I’ll come home. I’ve missed you so much.” You mumble, letting a few tears fall from your eyes. He wraps his arms around you as well, “I love you so much Y/N. I swear I would never cheat on you. You mean the world to me.”

And just like that, you went back home with your high school sweetheart.


Her long hair blew in the wind as she made her way towards the school building. The sixteen year old boy couldn’t take his eyes off of her. He had never seen anyone more beautiful, and he knew that one way or another, she was going to be his. He hadn’t wasted a second before introducing himself to the new girl. And she had him wrapped around her finger as soon as her lips curled into a smile and she spoke her name.


As his frail fingers sort through old photographs, there’s a longing deep in his chest. Every image in the box is burned into his mind forever. He doesn’t even need the pictures. Every moment spent with her is still fresh in his mind. Tears burn his eyes as he thinks back to their wedding day. That beautiful white dress hugging her body perfectly. The bright smile lighting up her face as her glistening eyes meet his. The fluttering feeling in his stomach as her small hands slid into his. Every moment was clear in his mind. All to soon her beautiful hair started turning gray, her porcelain skin started wrinkling and her memory started fading. She remembered him, though she always became confused when looking at the eighty-four year old man. She always remembered a younger boy, a high school boy, with fluffy strawberry blonde hair and hazel eyes filled with love. A boy she fell head over heels for. Everyone said it was just puppy love. Two teenage kids living in the moment, but it was so much more. He never once in his entire existence regretted spending his life with her, nor she with him.

Sixty-eight years may seem like a long time for anyone else, but it just wasn’t enough for him. If he could have just one more moment, no matter how short, he would take it. Even if she had no idea who he was, he would still cherish the time. But that’s not how it works.

“Granddad, are you ready? The service is going to start soon.” A young girl in a black dress asked from the doorframe of their bedroom. He took one last glance at the photo in his hand before wiping his cheeks and closing the box. He gave a weak smile to the girl who had let a few of her own tears fall. Heaving himself off the end of the bed and walking over to her, he was ready. He wasn’t happy about it, but he knew it had to be done. He was going to say his last goodbye to his high school sweetheart.


I Told You I Was Mean // Calum Hood

Request; Yes
Summary; Fame begins to change Calum and he cheats on his fiancé, (Y/N). 


Once again you found yourself sleeping alone. It’s been 2 weeks since the boys got back from their tour and you were happy to finally have your Calum in your arms. Life had other plans for the two of you… well Calum did.

These past 2 weeks had been like torture for you, consisting of heated arguments and lonely nights. Calum had been coming home late completely wasted and rumors were beginning to spread that he wasn’t happy with his girlfriend, now fiancé, of 4 years and sneaking around having threesomes with random groupies. There were also rumors going around that he was getting involved with bad influences in the industry and falling into substance abuse, which to your dismay, weren’t rumors. He was acting out and he made it practically impossible to approach him,  he doesn’t open up to you anymore. All these rumors that were surfacing, you didn’t want to hear them. They weren’t true. You were a happy fiancé that was going to get married in a couple months to a wonderful boyfriend and have tons of babies maybe even have 2 dogs and you’ll two will move live in the suburbs to raise your family. At first you didn’t want to believe it…

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Playing Pretend

summary: basically, all you need to know is FBI agents and fake!marriage trope

a/n: this story is basically just a stress relief from my other projects, so apologies if it’s not up to par with some of my other things. and also thank you so much for all of your kind words so far! I’m so glad you guys are enjoying it(: Chapter 3 will be posted on Sunday!


Dragneel snatched his folder from the table and stood, stalking to the door after Chief and not even so much as glancing at either Lucy or Fullbuster before slamming it shut behind him. Slowly, wordlessly, the young woman unzipped her bag while reaching for her own folder, placing it in the middle pocket. She was too overwhelmed to read it now so she’d save it for a time when she could be alone to collect her thoughts.

Lucy looked up only when she felt a hand rest on her shoulder, and saw that it belonged to Fullbuster.

“Don’t worry about Natsu,” he said, trying to comfort her but it was obvious to the blonde that he didn’t spend much time socializing with others. He most likely spent most of his time behind his computer screens.

He stood and offered a hand to help her up, and while Lucy got to her feet the man had already grabbed his coffee and tucked the folder under his arm. “He’s just a bit shocked is all, the guy doesn’t take surprises very well.”

“Never would’ve guessed,” Lucy mumbled, causing Fullbuster to grin and shrug in a what-can-ya-do sort of way.

“I better go after him, make sure he reads up on the mission.”

“Or prevent him from doing something that’ll wind up with him being fired?”

He smirked, nodding at Lucy once as if sizing her up. “Yeah, I guess. Whichever comes first.”

He looked down at her, patting her once on the back before following his partner out the door. “See ya around, sis.”

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Nicknames (Reader x Sam Wilson ft. Steve Rodgers)

Request from Anonymous: Sam Wilson x Reader with “Wait, do you two know each other” and “You are adorable as hell!” I’m sorry this took so long, but here you go! Enjoy:) 

“Wow, Cap, I’m offended that I’m not your only friend,” You tease the super soldier, mockingly placing your hand over your heart.

Steve chuckles, rolling his eyes.

“I know Y/N, it’s a heartbreaker. I’m sorry you don’t own all of my undivided attention.”

“I guess I can forgive you,” You jokingly agree to with a heavy sigh. “So, who’s this friend you’re introducing me to?”

Since the two of you first met, Steve constantly mentions in a vague passing an old friend you remind him off. You finally cornered him into introducing you to said friend so you can see for yourself whether this person is like you or not.

“An old friend,” Steve responds cryptically.

“Yeah, I’ve gotten that much,” You snort in response.

“You’ll like him,” Steve promises.

“Well if they’re like me, then I’d hope so,” You joke.

Steve laughs, then shrugs.

“It might come as a disappointment to see what you are really like.”

“Shut up, Steve,” You shove the large man, sticking your tongue out at him while he laughs harder.

The two of you walk into the sandwich shop, waiting in line, Steve occasionally glancing toward the door for his friend. After a few minutes of waiting, the bells above the door jingle and you both glance over to see a man walk into the cafe.

“No way,” You mutter to yourself with a grin.

The man, spots Steve, then sees you next to Steve, and pulls off his sunglasses with a similar grin.

“Hey Cap,” Sam greets, shaking hands with Steve.

“Sam, it’s good to see you,” Steve grins.

“So, this is the friend you wanted to introduce me to?” Sam asks, looking over at you who is trying your hardest to not laugh.

He winks at you, stealthily gesturing for you to go with it. You compose yourself, preparing yourself for whatever Sam has in store for you.

“Yeah, Sam, this is Y/N, Y/N, this is Sam,” Steve introduces.

With a straight face, Sam shakes your hand, bowing his head at you.

“Father Time,” He greets.

“Felipe,” You respond seriously.

Wait,” Steve stares at both of you for a moment, your greetings to each other sink in. “Do you two know each other?

“Well, you’ve gloed up real nice since high school!” Sam teases with a hint of seriousness, not answering Steve’s question yet. 

“I can say the same about you,” You grin, a blush creeping on your checks.

“Is that a blush I see?” Sam pokes your checks.

You look down with a sly smile, batting his hands away.

You’re adorable as hell,” He grins, pulling you into a hug as the two of you laugh.

“It’s good to see you Y/N,” Sam murmurs into your hair.

“Good to see you too, Sam,” You agree.

Sam glances over a Steve, one arm flung around your shoulder, your arm strung around his waist.

“Yeah Cap, I know Y/N,” Sam grins, glancing at you.

“How?” Steve questions in bewilderment.

“We went to highschool together,” You explain. “Pretty good friends, actually.”

“Yeah, and we stayed in touch in college, but then I got deployed and we drifted,” Sam finishes.

“Okay…” Steve chuckles. “So much for that idea.”

Someone from behind the counter calls yours and Steve’s name to get your sandwiches.

“Let’s sit down,” You suggest then you and Steve retrieve your sandwiches and join Sam at a table.  

“So,” Steve begins, glancing between the two of you now sitting next to each other. “What’s the story behind Father Time and Felipe?”

You and Sam begin laughing at the thought of the nicknames.

“I forgot about Felipe,” Sam sighs, a huge grin on his face. “So, when we were in high school, I always texted Y/N when I needed advice about something and I swear 90% of the time, the advice was ‘give it time’-”

“-But I was always right, wasn’t I?” You add.

“Yes,” Sam agrees with a smile. “You were. So, our junior year, I took a photoshop class and found this animated picture of “Father Time” and edited Y/N’s face on it.”

You start laughing at the memory of opening that email in the middle of class.
“I remember I was in Mrs. Carney’s class and started laughing really hard so she made me show her the picture then she put it up on the projector for everyone to see,” You put your face in your hands, still laughing. “I don’t think anyone actually remembered my name after that.”

“I had the whole school calling you Father Time,” Sam laughs, leaning back in his chair.

Steve grins at the story, laughing along with y’all. He smiles softly as he watches Sam drape an arm on the back of your chair.

“So how did Felipe get started?” Steve asks, taking a bite of his sandwich.

“That was actually both of us,” You begin to explain, unwrapping your sandwich.

“There was this… I don’t even know what to call it,” Sam chuckles. “Popular saying I guess that was ‘bye felisha’. Y/N here, said it a lot, and I mean a lot-”

“-I didn’t say it that much!” You defend yourself.

“Oh, yes you did,” Sam disagrees. “Anyways, I most of the time was ‘Felisha’, but Y/N didn’t like it. Said I wasn’t a ‘Felicia’ cause I’m not a girl and so Y/N decides to think of the guy version of ‘Felisha’. We were doing a US history review and I said something snarky or something like that and Y/N looks over at me and with a straight face,” Sam starts laughing at the memory. “Y/N says ‘bye Felipe’.”

You and Sam start laughing while Steve chuckles. It’s a funny story, but he can tell it’s more of a you-had-to-be-there type of story. As your laughter dies down, Sam smiles at you fondly.

“Not bad times,” He grins.

“Not at all,” You agree, offering him a bite of your sandwich.

He takes a bite then glances over at Steve who is watching the two of you with crossed arms and a smile.
“Alright Y/N, help me out,” Steve begins. “I need the most embarrassing story of Sam from high school.”

“Oh no,” Sam groans, leaning his head back.

You tap your chin slowly as you study you friend, then the perfect story comes to mind.

“Oh! I should tell him about your cross dressing ‘experiment’!” You grin slyly with mischievous eyes.

“What?” Steve laughs, staring at Sam incredulously.

“It was for sociology!” Sam exclaims.

“Don’t act like you didn’t like it,” You tease.

Sam glares at you then you launch into the story, Sam hiding his blushing face behind his hand. Though Sam was thoroughly embarrassed, not even Steve could miss the admiring smiles Sam sent your way.

You, Sam, and Steve spent another two hours in the cafe, telling stories and laughing until you felt a six pack coming on. You’d somehow forgotten how much you miss Sam. The three of you stand outside the cafe, Steve suddenly deciding he wants to go look at something in another shop alone. You and Sam stand there for a moment then Sam says

“That was great.”

“Yeah it was,” You agree. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too,” Sam seconds. “Let’s do this again.”

“That’d be nice,” You smile.

“Except, let’s just do the two of us,” Sam winks.

“Felipe, are you asking me on a date?” You giggle.

“Why yes Father Time, I am. So, do I have to give it time or will you get dinner with me on Saturday?”

“It’s a date,” You smile, then reach up and peck Sam on the check. “See you Saturday,” You call to Sam as you walk toward Steve who has since come out of the shop and became very “interested” in a nearby tree to cover up his eavesdropping.

Sam waves, then turns, pumping his fist in triumph. Saturday isn’t going to get here quick enough, he thinks to himself, grinning at the mere thought of an evening alone with you. 

This had me grinning like an idiot. Very fun to write :) I love Sam. Thank you guys for being patient with me, hopefully I will be able to get my next request up much sooner (got an 88 on my physics exam *happy dance*). Love y’all!

Accidents Happen -- Chapter 1

So this is the first long fic I’ve started in ages, but I decided that I wanted a HS AU with Nico, and then Solangelo happened and I couldn’t resist (I don’t know if this will be the permanent name yet, but it’s 3 am and my brain is frieddddd)!

Nico didn’t touch the crumpled piece of paper in his pocket until he was an hour into English class and bored out of his mind.

It wasn’t like he needed to pay attention. They were just reading through the syllabus: a stapled collection of five pages outlining the books that Nico would never read and the long term assignments he would undoubtedly fail. In truth, after hearing about grading scales and binder tab labels for five and a half hours, the paper in his pocket was the only spark of hope that Nico had for the remainder of his freshman year.

He set it in front of him on the desk and carefully unfolded it, reading the number it displayed even though he’d already committed it to memory.


The flyer’s bold block print had pulled Nico’s eyes more strongly than any other page on the bulletin board.


The background of the flyer was supposed to look like outer space, and WILL had photoshopped little guitars onto the purple nebulas. This looked cool from far away, but as Nico stepped closer, he noticed that the guitars were outlined with white trim, indicating that WILL was not the best photo-editor in the world.

Nevertheless, Nico had assumed that he was probably a decent musician if he did indeed belong to THE PUNKEST PUNK ROCK BAND IN THE AREA, so he tore one of the tabs from the bottom of the flyer and pocketed it, figuring his guitar skills were decent enough.

As the teacher droned on about behavior expectationsand remediation policies, Nico found himself wishing that he could’ve been homeschooled for more than two years. He knew well that his dad was quite possibly the worst teacher on the planet, but he couldn’t help but feel out of place on the plastic blue chair behind the wobbly-legged desk inside the most overcrowded public high school in the county. He had been more or less out of the loop since The Accident, and he wasn’t caught up with the rest of his generation, to the point where every mention of a social media site or celebrity might as well have been spoken in another language. With each blare of the bell, he’d felt increasingly suffocated by the fast paced current of the school, overwhelmed before the year had really even began. Percy didn’t help.

“Hey, Nico!”

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Recently a very cool person sent me a bunch of questions as a sort of interview for a school project, and it occurred to me that I get asked these questions a lot so I’m throwing them down under the readmore for you guys in case you wanted to know this stuff/so if someone asks me one of these in the future I can just link here. So yeah lots of talky talk under the whatcjamacallit

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Pictures and Kisses (third part of 'umbrella')

“Are you taking pictures of me?” Adam questioned as he heard the camera click. He had woken up to that sound. Taylor had been awake for at least an hour, not wanting to wake him up after she awkwardly woke up in his arms. But damn did he look good, laying shirtless in her bed and thank god she had a camera on her bedside table. The light on his skin was seemingly perfect for pictures and Taylor couldn’t help photographing the guy she had met the day before.

“I might be.” She murmured, taking a picture as he smiled softly, his eyes still closed. “You look pretty laying there.”

“In your bed? I could do this all day if you were next to me.” He smirked and she shook her head, smiling and taking a picture of him before putting down the camera. She sat on the bed next to him, a small smile on her face.

“The storm cleared out.” She told him and he opened his eyes, glancing at her before moving his gaze towards the window. He moved back leaning against the headboard, sitting.

“That’s terrible I wouldn’t mind sleeping with you again.” He grinned.

“Shut up!” She whined, punching his arm playfully. “I have the go to work soon so do you want breakfast?” She wondered.

“I’d love to.” He smiled and she stood up, making her way to the kitchen.

“Scrambled eggs okay?” He nodded his head at her, sitting on the stool, watching as she cooked.

She was beautiful, dare he say perfect. Her blue eyes seemed to take his breath away when he first saw her. Her lips screamed to be kissed but he hadn’t found the courage to do that just yet. He didn’t want to tell her that he knew she spent the night wrapped around him, she’d be embarrassed. He couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face as he watched the woman he met yesterday move around the kitchen.

She turned around and caught him staring at her making her blush.

“What?” She mumbled, a small smile on her lips. He let out a small laugh as she put a plate in front of him and sitting next to him.

“You’re really beautiful, did you know that, Taylor?” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and she blushed.

“Thank you.” She said quietly, taking a bite of her food. He began eating too and they were quiet for a while. “Thank you for staying with me last night.”

“You’re very welcome. It’s not like I could refuse though.” Adam smiled at her and she shook her head a soft giggle erupting from her lips. “Can I take you to work?”

“If you want to. Don’t you have work?” She questioned.

“I’m a writer remember? I can write anywhere, at anytime.” He grinned, standing up from the stool.

“Okay then.” She breathed out smiling at him. “I’m going to take a quick shower and get ready. Feel free to do whatever you want. You can take a shower if you want after me.” He nodded his head and she made her way to the bedroom, entering the bathroom and beginning to get ready.

He sighed when she left the room looking around before moving to the couch, sitting down and looking around. There were a lot of pictures on the walls, friends, family, her cats. He could figure out who some of the people on the walls were, others he couldn’t. She told him about her parents and a few of her best friends and he told her about his.

She was an amazing photographer, he decided. He smiled to himself as he remembered waking up to her taking pictures. He could write a story about her eyes alone. He could write a story about her lips without kissing her. He could write a story about her heart without knowing every corner of it. He could write a story about how it felt to have her wrapped around him during the stormy night. He could write a story about anything about her and it would probably be the most beautiful story he had ever written. And it honestly amazed him how she was opening every door to his heart. She was a wonderful girl and he didn’t want to stop talking to her, couldn’t stop thinking about her.

“I’m back.” Her voice snapped him out of his thoughts and he smiled raising up on his feet. “The bathroom is in my bedroom, you can go take a shower. The towels are on the shelves next to the sink. Do you want some of my brother’s clothes, I probably still have something and since it fits you…” She trailed off.

“Yes, thank you.” He took a step towards her, pecking her forehead. She held her breath as his lips touched her skin, the feeling was still unfamiliar to her but she was sure she didn’t want the feeling to go away. She gave him some of her brother’s clothes and left the room. She had a small grin on her face as she scrolled through her phone, a text from Selena, her best friend, unopened. She hadn’t checked her phone since yesterday. She decided to call Selena.

“Hey, Sel.” She greeted when Selena picked up the phone.

“Hey, bitch. What’s up?” Selena said making her laugh a little.

“I’m about to leave for work. I was wondering if you want to have lunch with me today?” She questioned. She wanted to catch up with her friend since it had been a week since they last saw each other and she wanted to tell her about the guy who was currently taking a shower in her bathroom.

“Yeah, sure. You should tell Karlie to come too, I haven’t seen her in a while.” Selena suggested. Karlie was Taylor’s other best friend, pure sunshine according to Taylor.

“Okay, I’ll text her. How’s Eric?” Taylor smirked. Selena had been dating or sleeping with an intern in the hospital where she was a doctor. He was hot and Selena wanted to move on after breaking up with Justin, a guy she was with for over three years.

“He’s in my bed.” Selena giggled. “But he’s great. Still hot.” Taylor laughed when she said that.

“I’m glad.” She was about to continue but someone’s voice cut her off.

“I used your shampoo, I hope you don’t mind.” Adam grinned, walking into the room shirtless.

“Taylor Alison Swift, did I just hear a man’s voice? You bitch, are you sleeping with someone?” Selena practically yelled into the phone and Taylor cursed under her breath.

“Sel, I have to go.”

“Don’t you dare to-” Taylor hung up the phone wincing slightly, knowing she would have a million questions at lunch.

“Hey, oh hi.” She cleared her throat her eyes tracing his muscular torso. “You are in a fantastic shape. Wow.” She blurted out and he laughed. She stared at him for a few seconds before snapping herself out of her daze. “What did you say?”

“I was saying” he took a step towards her. “That I used your shampoo.” He took another step forward and her eyes travelled to his abs. “And you forgot to give me a shirt.” He put two fingers under her chin making her look up at him, a smirk on his face.

“Thank god I did.” She whispered, a small grin on her face. “Did they photoshop you or some shit like that, did they paint you because wow…” She trailed off pointing at his abs, he laughed and she joined him. “I’m going to get you that shirt, unfortunately.” She told him, walking past him. She came back handing him the shirt and he smirks taking it, kissing her cheek. “Let’s go. I need to open the studio.”

“Oh right, you’re the boss, Miss Swift. Let’s go then.” He grabbed his phone and she smiled before turning away to move towards the front door. She opened it and he walked through it and she followed him, closing the door. They were in silence the whole elevator ride, just small smiles and stealing glances at each other.

The cold air hit Taylor’s face making her shiver, she looked beside her and Adam stretched his lips into a smile. They kept a light conversation as they walked and Taylor decided she was liking Adam a little too much after so little time. She felt like she had always known him and it scared her. He felt the same, he didn’t know what his life was like before he saw her smile and he never wanted to know.

“So this is it.” Taylor announced and he nodded his head a smile on his face. “Don’t be a stranger, Adam.” She let out a small giggle as she looked up at him. His green eyes were mesmerizing, she thought.

“Call me sometime, tomorrow, today. I’d love to see you again.” He told her, grinning.

“I will. Don’t worry.” She wrapped her arms around his torso and he was taken by surprised but soon twisted his arms around her shoulders, hugging her against him. The hug lasted a little too long and Taylor pulled away although she felt comfortable with him protecting her from the cold. “Well, goodbye, Adam.” She stepped away from him and he waved at her making her laugh as she walked closer to the studio door.

“Taylor?” He called out just as she was opening the door. She turned back to look at him, her blue eyes taking his breath away for a moment but he quickly recovered taking determined steps towards her, she furrowed her eyebrows as he lounged towards her, a smile on his face. His hands gripped her waist and he crushed his lips on hers, getting her by surprise. Their lips moved together and Taylor smiled into the kiss. They pulled away when oxygen ran out and rested their foreheads together, smiling, breathing heavily.

“Wow…” Taylor breathed out and he chuckled. She pecked his lips. “We’ll see each other again. I’ll call you, tonight. Promise.”

“Alright.” He whispered. “I’ll see you soon then.” He smiled and placed a sweet kiss on her lips before letting go of her.

“Bye, Adam.” He kissed her forehead and watched her get inside the door before walking away. They’d see each other again. Soon.

Please Don’t Leave (part one)

Michael: You shake your head, hitting the reject button on your phone for the eighth time in a row. Michael had been calling you ever since the whole issue broke out.

It wasn’t Michael’s fault, what happened- some stupid Hollywood bitch decided to start a rumor about her and Michael. You couldn’t even bother to remember the piece of trash’s name. Some other fandom hates her too. You don’t know which one, but she’s a bitch and they all hate her because she’s a fucking fandom wrecker, but anyway.

You sniffle and wipe at your eyes, tears blurring your vision. Michael did nothing to you. You know that he didn’t do anything with that girl. You’re not leaving Michael because of something that he did, but you can’t deal with the drama anymore.

That’s the problem- nobody is okay with you and Michael being happy except the actual 5sos fam. You know, the ones that sit on their phones and laptops and make edits and imagines for tumblr? Yeah, them. And even some of them hate you.

You shake your head. Too much. Too much drama. Half of these girls didn’t even like Michael until you two started dating.

You stand on the tips of your toes and reach up to the top shelf in your closet, pulling down your old suitcases. You stuff all of your clothes and things into them, tears running down your face.


You jump, whipping around to face Michael. He stands in the doorway, a thin line of red hair dye running down one side of his face. 

“Michael.” Your quiet voice cracks a little.

For a minute he just stands there, his eyes never leaving yours. Then he moves suddenly, crossing the room in three strides. “You’re leaving me?” His voice is strained. “After all this time? What did I-”

“Mikey, please. This isn’t about you, okay?”

He closes his eyes, letting out a sigh. “I knew this would happen.” He mumbles. He looks up at the ceiling, biting down hard on his lower lip. “I knew it.”

You reach up, gently wiping away a tear. “Mikey, this isn’t your fault.”

His shoulders shake a little, more tears falling down his face. “I’m so sorry. If I’d never asked you out, this wouldn’t have happened. Dammit. I’m sorry, y/n.”

You wrap your arms around him and pull him against you. His arms slide around you and he hides his face in the side of your neck, his shoulders shaking as he sobs quietly. Tears run down your face. You’re not sure what hurts more- seeing Michael so destroyed, your own pain, or the weight of knowing what you’re about to do.

You pull back a little, your throat tightening. “Michael, I can’t do this anymore.”

He doesn’t even look surprised. “You’re leaving me, aren’t you?”

You nod slowly, more tears falling. “I-I’m sorry, I-”

“Hey, hey.” He holds your face in his hands, forcing you to look up at him and also so that he can wipe away your tears, totally ignoring the ones on his face. “You don’t need to apologize. It’s okay.”

You shake your head, opening your mouth to argue, but Michael stops you by pressing his lips to yours. You sink into the kiss, knowing it’ll be one of your last with Michael.

He’s the one to pull away. “You do whatever you need to do, okay? If you want to stay friends for a while, fine. If you don’t want to talk for a while, that’s fine too. If you want to never talk to me again, okay. I’ll live with it. If you just need to take a break from the relationship, that’s okay too. I’ll respect whatever you choose to do.”

You smile and give him a hug. “Thank you.”

He wraps his arms around you, his fingers tracing small circles in your back. “No problem, sweetheart. Now, why don’t I help you finish packing?”

Ashton: Ashton stares at the magazine and closes his eyes, rubbing his forehead and letting out a sigh.

You stand leaning against the wall, quietly watching with tears in your eyes. You feel like there’s too many things pressing in on you at once- a little more pressure and you might break or burst.

Since Ashton isn’t going to say anything, you might as well.

“It’s not real.” You say.

His head snaps up, and you notice some things that you hadn’t before- that his hair is messier than normal, that his bandana is a little too loose which is extremely unusual since Ashton always makes sure it’s on correctly, that his bright eyes are duller than normal, and that there are dark bags under his eyes that you’re positive weren’t there a week ago.

You almost miss what he says.

“I know.” He says tiredly, rubbing his eyes. “I know. It was photoshopped, wasn’t it?”

You shake your head. “No, that’s a real picture. But it’s from two years ago with my ex-boyfriend.” Ashton stares at you silently. “He’s gay.”

He lets out a small “oh”. 

You slowly edge closer, afraid that Ashton is going to yell. You had argued with him before, of course, but he’d never yelled at you. They’d never said it directly, but apparently his bandmates had seen Ashton yell before. And apparently, it was worse than Michael yelling.

You sit on the edge of the couch. “Have…have the fans asked you about it?”

He nods, suddenly looking miserable. “That’s all I’ve been hearing about ever since these articles started coming out. Is y/n cheating on youDid you know that y/n was with another guy?”

“And how are your agent and your manager taking this?”

He shrugs, rubbing a hand over his face. “They’re saying that it’s publicity so it’s fine, but some fans are saying that they ‘can’t be in this fandom anymore when the drummer is stupid enough to stick with a cheater and constantly defend her’. It’s just…a mess.”

And it’s all because of you. That voice. You thought you’d gotten rid of it years ago, the one that would insist that you’re ugly, that you aren’t good enough, that no one would ever love you. 

Shut up, you think. Go away.

See those dark circles under his eyes? See how tired he looks? Do you see how his eyes don’t shine the way they used to? See how stressed he is? That’s all because of you.

“It is all my fault.” You mumble, not meaning to speak out loud.

“What?” Ashton asks, looking up.

“I-I-um…nothing." Smooth. He'll totally believe that.

Ashton reaches over and takes your hand. "Y/n, this isn’t your fault. We’ll figure this out, okay? I promise.”

You shake your head. “You shouldn’t have to deal with this, Ashton. So…” you let out a sigh. “I-I’m going to let you go.”


You close your eyes, feeling a tear roll down your cheek. “I’m breaking up with you, Ashton.”

“No, no, no. Y/n-”

“Ashton.” You cut him off, opening your eyes to look at him. “I’m doing this for you own good. With you guys growing in fame and-”

“No.” He snaps. “You are not leaving me now.”

Ashton. Don’t you see? This is tearing us apart. It’s ruining you. You’ll be dead by the time you’re thirty if you’re this stressed all of the time.” You pause, and when he doesn’t speak, you continue in a low voice. “I’m doing this so that we can be happy and so that we can be healthy, okay? I promise in a few years, once everything’s calmed down a little more, I-I’ll come back for you, if you still want me.”

He squeezes his eyes shut, a few tears running down his face. “Dammit, you’re right. I hate it when you’re right in situations like this.”

You let out a choked laugh, and he pulls you against him. You two hug each other, sobbing quietly.

He pulls back a little and brushes your hair back from your face. He leans in and presses his lips against yours softly. “I love you.” He murmurs. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” You say quietly.

He hugs you against his chest and kisses the top of your head. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too.” You sit there for several minutes like that in silence, the only sound being his heartbeat against your ear. Finally, you gather the courage to pull back. “I-I guess I should pack.”

Ashton swallows hard and nods, slowly releasing you. As you walk up the stairs, you hear Ashton softly sing something under his breath. You don’t really hear it for a minute.

I’m really not fine at all.

Surprise - Neymar

It’s been so loooooong! Hope everyone has had a wonderful holiday, and is enjoying the new year so far! This OS is based off of the other Neymar OS I did a while ago, so here’s the link to that:

If you haven’t read this one yet, then I recommend doing so, as it makes this one make slightly more sense (I think). If you don’t, oh well, no harm done :) Enjoy!

“So, you have everything, right? Pajamas, toothbrush, underwear, your ticket…”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I’ve got enough crap to stay for a month,” you snort, balancing your iPhone between your ear and your shoulder as you hoist your suitcase into the trunk of the cab. Despite the warm, wintery layers you’ve stowed away in your luggage, the weather in Brazil is warm and humid, and the thin white t-shirt you’re wearing sticks to your back with sweat as you climb into the backseat. Rafa blabs on about double checking that you’ve got your passport and ticket for the fifteenth time, and you roll your eyes, smiling sweetly at the driver as you direct him to the airport.

“I know, I know, I’m totally talking your ear off, but I swear, if you’re not walking out that gate and running into my arms in exactly twelve hours, somebody is going to have to pay.”

“Hopefully not me,” you tease, grinning as you add, “because I’d hate for our reunion to be any less romantic than what you just described!”

“What can I say,” Rafa sighs dramatically, and you can envision her throwing a perfectly manicured hand across her forehead for full effect. “I’m hopelessly in love with my best friend. Oh wait, my best-friend-slash-future-sister-in-law. Can you imagine the headlines on that?”

“HA. Funny. Either of you should be so lucky!” You pull a face as you search through the contents of your backpack for your passport and ticket, pulling them out one last time, per Rafaella’s request, to make sure that everything’s in order. “Y’know, there’s no guarantees that this ticket isn’t just a one-way flight to Siberia where I can make my living wrestling bears and tigers and shit. I hear the vodka’s pretty awesome.”

“Yeah, well, not as awesome as me,” she sings. “Or tequila. Or Barcelona, and hot Spanish men. Well, maybe just my brother in your case. Who, by the way, has about as much of a clue that you’re coming as my dad had when I threw that party at the house when I was sixteen.”

“That is a terrible analogy!” you cry, laughing at the memory. “Your dad definitely knew about that as soon as he walked through the door. The man sniffs disruption, Raf, he was just tired of trying to get us in trouble when he knew we’d keep on doing the same things anyways!”

“Okay, okay, fine! Then Neymar has about the same idea that you’re literally getting on a flight right now to come and jump him that Luke had about Leia being his sister during that glorious makeout sesh. Boom.”

“Ugh. That one’s even worse.” The drive to the airport is a short one, and you can already see the faint outline of the buildings and runways in the distance. Two weeks. It will be two weeks until you see this place again, and as always, you’re already dreading coming home alone before you’ve even left. 

“Are you there yet?” Rafa chirps. “I want to stay on the phone with you, but at the same time, the sooner we hang up the sooner you’ll be here. What do you want to do once I pick you up? We could go get food, or go shopping, or—“

No, I’m not there yet, and honey, I don’t even know if the flight is going to be on time. I hope I get there on time, but seeing as it’s ten-plus hours of airline food and recirculated air, I’m probably going to want one thing when I land: a big, fat, half-a-day nap. With my fuzzy blanket, which you stole, and have yet to give back.”

“That blanket was loaned! Ugh, you’re going to be so boooooring. Promise you’ll do something fun with me when you come back to the land of the living?”

“Promise. Hey, Rafa, I gotta go. I’m pulling up to the airport right now.”

“Text me as soon as you land! And get some sleep! I’ll be here to tackle you when you get here.” You smile, the muscles in your shoulders relaxing as her words sink in. You’re going to Barcelona. You’re going to see Rafaella and Neymar, and you’ll get to see everything they’ve told you so much about. Hell, you’ll be able to go on a real date, and the thought alone makes your smile widen.

“I will. See you soon, I’m sending hugs through the phone.” 

You hang up and unload your luggage onto the curb, paying the cabbie before pulling your things up to the check-in desk. The plane won’t be ready for another hour, so you disappear into the bathroom to change into your favorite pair of Nike sweats and one of Neymar’s old hoodies. Sure, Rafa may have stolen your favorite blanket, but you were plenty guilty of theft as well, especially when it came to your boyfriend’s clothes.

The gate is practically empty, so you sprawl out across a row of seats, pulling out your phone to play a few games and check Instagram before boarding begins. You like a few photos of your friends, repost one that your boss put up from a shoot the two of you had done the other day, and pause on Neymar’s post from that morning. It’s a sweet picture of him and his Pai, but you’re hesitant to like it. You’d always known that you and Neymar lived in different worlds. Even back at Santos, he’d always had a following, the media tracking every move he made, and once he’d made the move to Barça, the amount of attention he received has only been amplified. You’d had your own share of experiences with fans and photographers, as they often sought Rafaella out at games that you’d gone to, but at this point, the two of you hadn’t brought your relationship public. 

And if you were being honest with yourself, the idea of putting yourself out there to the world as Neymar’s girlfriend scared you. You’d become friends with Carolina when her and Neymar had gotten together, and had seen firsthand the backlash that she’d had to deal with, especially with being Davi’s mom. The tabloids were rarely kind, and Twitter and Instagram were a platform for all kinds of judgement and negative opinions. You’d been lucky to have so much time in your own little bubble, but something told you that this trip would mark the end of privacy between the two of you and the world.

The plane boards on time, and as soon as you settle into your seat in business class, each and every hour of overtime that you worked hard for is worth it. Thirty two extra hours spent behind the screen of an iMac on Photoshop? The extra legroom and enhanced reclining abilities of a non-economy seat definitely overshadow the carpal tunnel and sleep deprivation you’ve been living with for the past three weeks.

Ah, if only you could think so optimistically all the time.

It’s a long and boring flight, filled with movies (two crappy chick-flicks and one decent murder mystery), half a pack of spearmint gum, and a choppy couple of hours of on-and-off sleep with an itchy blanket. You wake up to a golden sunrise, though, and the coffee the flight attendants bring around isn’t too awful with a few packets of sugar. 

Before long, after you’ve cramped yourself in the bathroom to brush your teeth and freshen up a bit, pulling your sleep mussed hair into a ponytail, the plane starts to descend, and your face is glued to the window as Barcelona comes into view. The city takes your breath away, cradled against the sparkling waters of the sea, and you can already see why so many call it home. 

As soon as you’ve landed you shoot your best friend a text, gathering your things and stuffing them into your backpack hastily. The door to the plane opens, and with it comes a gust of chilly air that has you thanking your thievery skills for snatching up the oversized sweatshirt you’ve got on. Your phone buzzes as you make your way off the plane, walking slowly behind a middle aged couple that fought quietly in front of you for most of the flight, but when you get to the gate and look around, you can’t find Rafa’s familiar, smiling face. 

Five, ten, fifteen minutes go by, and you stand at the gate with what you can only imagine is a rather hopeless expression on your face the entire time, until you finally decide to go and claim your bags. Despite the fact that it’s hardly ten AM on a weekday, the airport is bustling with people, and all kinds of languages fill your ears as you make your way to the baggage claim. A few phrases are familiar, but the shout of a wild string of portuguese stops you in your tracks. 

You know you probably look foolish, spinning around wildly in the middle of the walkway, but within the mess of people, you can’t pin a location on the source of the noise. 

Two seconds later, and you’re on the ground, tackled by a blur of highlighted hair and a wide, white smile that squeals as the two of you fall. 

“I missed you I missed you I missed you!” she shrieks, and you laugh, pulling yourself off the ground and offering a hand down to Rafaella, who accepts graciously.

“I missed you too! I can’t believe I’m actually here!” You wrap her in your arms, inhaling the scent of the perfume you know so well and grinning like mad. Two months without seeing your best friend was far too long—just as two months seeing your boyfriend was too long.

“Did you get to see the city coming in? It’s a little cold this time of year, but I can’t wait to show you around. I have so many places to take you, we should go get breakfast, and then for dinner later I’ll take you to my favorite place!

Rafa chats away as the two of you descend into the lower levels of the airport, grabbing your suitcase on the way out before you hail a cab. The ride is lengthy, weaving in and out of the streets of the city, but the sights are captivating. Though you’ve been to countless cities before in your lifetime, and have lived in a large one in the recent days of your life, Barcelona is different in an indescribable way. Your counterpart points out places as you pass them, animated and excited as ever to show you her new home, and before long, you’re pulling into the driveway of the house.

The air is cold enough to make you pull up your hood as you walk around to the backdoor. In the yard is the pool and the patio and an array of balls and toys, a sight you’ve seen plenty of times in pictures and FaceTime calls. Inside, it’s warmer, and homey, the family pictures on the walls and the personal items spread across surfaces making it feel like you’re back at the family compound in Brazil.

“Well,” Rafa plops down in a barstool when you reach the kitchen, propping her chin up with her hands as she gives you a look. “I would offer that you could stay in my room with me, or I could make up one of the beds in the guest room, but given that I know you won’t really stay in either of them, I won’t. And yes,” she sticks out her lower lip in a pout as you bury your face in your hands, your face flushing what you can only assume is a bright, bright pink, “As your best friend, I am totally jealous of my brother for getting prime cuddle time before I do, so one of the conditions of my services organizing this little surprise is that I get at least one girl’s night, you and me, without any boys. None.”

“Agreed. Always,” you grin, and hop onto the stool next to her, pulling her into a tight hug and ruffling her hair as you pull away.

“Are you hungry? Thirsty? We’ve got food.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” you chuckle, crossing the room to pull open the refrigerator door. “Water? This place is so modern, I can’t imagine you drink out of the tap!”
“Little blue button on the inside of the door.”

“Thanks.” After a few tries opening and closing cupboards in search of a cup, you get a plastic one thrown at you with a couple of endearing curses, leaving you and Rafaella in giggles as you down a glass and fill up another.

“Can I take my bags up?” You ask, pulling out your phone to check the time. It’s still morning, and you know Neymar’s training goes until mid afternoon, giving you time to get some rest before you hide and stage your surprise.

“Yeah, ‘course.”

Rafa stays in the kitchen as you wander back to the room where you’d dropped your bags, and you take the moment of solitude to look around. Matchbox cars and stuffed animals belonging to Davi litter one corner of the room, and there’s a few pairs of shoes kicked off haphazardly by the door that make you smile. You’d never been the neatest person in the world, but Neymar’s habits of leaving his things all over any space he inhabited put you to shame. When you shared a room, it made for a mighty mess of clothing, football boots, shinguards, camera lenses and any other random junk (and there was a lot) that found its way into your space, driving anyone who attempted to brave the abyss mad.

Finding Neymar’s room is more challenging than you’d anticipated, but allows you to guide yourself on a self given tour as you wander up the stairs and into practically every room on the second floor. The guest room, as Rafa has promised, is not made up, but ducking into Davi’s room makes you smile. You’d known the boy since he’d been born, and you’d been buddies ever since. He knew you well, almost as an extension of his immediate family, and every reunion between the two of you always resulted in big hugs and the tug of his hand pulling you off to play something new that he’d become fond of. 

Rafa’s room has you shaking your head as soon as you step through the door. For all of the relentless teasing you endure for your messy habits, she isn’t far behind, with clothes strewn about the floor and the pink duvet of her bed mussed and unmade. It’s outside of her room that the hallway turns into another staircase, and you climb until you come to the top, pushing the only door open with your hip as you heave your luggage behind you. You can tell immediately that you’ve found your destination as you trip over a pair of rumpled jeans three steps into the room, inhaling the scent that is, inexplicably, your boyfriend. 

This room is bigger than the one he has back home, with a large, plush looking bed situated against the center of one wall and a balcony overlooking the backyard on the wall opposite. Through the doors on the other side of the room you can see a bathroom and a walk in closet, and all around is evidence of Neymar’s presence, from the framed pictures situated on the nightstands, to the towel left on the floor next to the bed and the sweatpants tossed at the bottom of the comforter. You set your things down in the closet and pull out your charger, flopping down on his bed with eyelids drooping once you’ve plugged in your phone and shot Rafaella a text telling her that you’re going to take a nap, and that she should wake you up soon.

Kicking off your shoes, you pull the sweatshirt off, leaving you in your sweats and a sports bra as you crawl in between the sheets of the bed. It’s luxuriously comfortable, and before you even have time to hear back from Rafa downstairs or think about anything else, you’re out like a light, cradled by sleep and the soft comforter pulled up around your exposed shoulders.


There was a story that your Pai told often about you to anyone who would listen. You were a little girl. It had been the dead of storm season on the coast of Brazil, and your family had been bracing for thunderstorms for days. Your father had closed down the store as a precaution, and your mother had been worried sick about your brothers when they’d snuck off to go play down the road, leaving you stuck inside with fretting parents and little more to do to pass the time. Eventually, you’d stolen off with a book to the attic, watching as the clouds rolled in black and the trees started to sway with wind as the storm picked up from a small window. Somehow, you’d ended up falling asleep without your parents knowing where you’d gone, and when your brothers rushed home, soaked to the bone with rain, a new search mission had to be employed to find you, the baby of the family, as the first cracks of lightning and claps of thunder filled the air and left your mother jumping.

As a child, you’d been terrified of storms, and to this day, when you heard thunder, it frightened you, as it always had. Your parents, knowing this, looked frantically around the house, shouting and calling for you as they combed each hiding spot they knew of. It took them an hour to find you in the attic, your book pressed open against your chest and your head tilted back as you slept soundly through the booming thunder just outside your window. 

Everybody knew that you slept hard, and woke for nothing but your own will.

It was just part of who you were, part of your very being to sleep through storms and parties and any other loud noises that happened to be going on.



Blaring music?


Which means that when Neymar arrives home, clambers up the stairs, shouting as he goes to see if Rafa is home, and throws open the door to his room with a loud bang, you hardly stir, where as he stops dead in his tracks, nearly dropping his phone and choking on the candy he’d popped in his mouth downstairs as his eyes dart between the shoes on the floor and the shape of a body sleeping in his bed.

If you had been there to see his face, it would have made your top ten favorite moments of all time.

But, seeing as Rafaella had forgotten (oops) to rouse you, and you were famous for being the unwakeable napper, you didn’t see it, at all.

The only thing that lets you know that your surprise had fallen through is the shift as his weight presses into the mattress beside you, his hand coming up to brush some hair out of your face as you awake with a start, your eyes flying open to meet his own and the wide, cheeky grin on his face.


You’re cut off by lips pressed against your own, smiling against your mouth as your eyes widen with shock.

“No, no, no, I was supposed to surprise you!” you cry, scowling as you sit up and press the palm of your hand into Neymar’s chest. He laughs, pulling you back down by your waist and burying his face in the crook of your neck to press kisses along your jaw, and you twist around to get a good look at his face.

“I had this whole plan, you weren’t supposed to find me up here! I was gonna jump out and scare you and—“

“You did surprise me!” he says, his eyes twinkling as he nudges your shoulder gently. “I had no idea, honest, until I came in here and saw your shoes. This is the best surprise ever, trust me!”

“But I was sleeping!”

“And I got to wake you up!” 

His smile is delirious, infectious as you feel the corners of your own mouth pull up. You hover over him, ponytail falling above his head, and lean down to kiss him full on the mouth, sighing with content when his hands come up to grip your waist and pull your chest flush to his.

“Surprise,” you mutter weakly, letting your head rest on his shoulder and your arm sling itself across his torso. 

“Best surprise ever,” he repeats. “How long are you—“

“Two weeks,” you say. “So, you’re kinda stuck with me for a little while.”

“As if I mind,” he scoffs. “I can’t believe you’re here, sneaky! Oh, I miss you so much, I can’t wait another month to see you! You’re a good actress, amor, fooled me well enough.”

“Yeah, I’m good like that,” you smirk, making a face that gets him laughing again. “I thought Rafa was gonna’ give it away for sure, but I guess not?”

“No, she was solid,” he chuckles. “Quiet as a mouse. I didn’t even think about it when she got up early this morning.”

“I need to thank her,” you sigh, “And not thank myself for not setting an alarm to wake me up.”

“Ah, let it go. Think about it this way; if you’d hid and jumped out at me, it would have meant that we got a few less minutes together than we do now.”

You slap his chest, lightly, and roll your eyes.

“Alright, romantic one, sure. Three to five extra minutes.”

“Hey,” he flips you over, rolling you onto your back so now, his face is above yours, a fake expression of seriousness prompting giggles out of you as he continues. “There’s a lot you can do in three to five extra minutes, amor.”

“Yeah?” you whisper, lifting an eyebrow as his hand finds your side, wandering down to the band of your sweatpants languorously. “Is that so?”

“Absolutely,” he murmurs. His thumb brushes against your hipbone, protruding slightly from the position you’re in, and you reach down to grab a hold of his hand, bringing it up to your face to kiss the rough skin of his knuckles as your eyes flutter shut.

“Then show me.”


Let me know what you think, and what you would like to see next!

Thanks for reading!