chelsea if you see this the one on the right is for you my darling!

Photo Shoot

Opening your eyes you felt around trying to find the warmth that normally consumed you. Instead of finding him you felt the empty side. Letting out a sigh you decided to get up and get breakfast. When you walked into the kitchen the glint of something caught your eye.

Walking over you looked down to find Harry’s face on the cover. Actually you found three different covers. Picking them all up you made your way to the living room. You remember him talking about the photo shoot but didn’t know it was published yet. You opened all three to find them the same, so you took one and began looking through it.

The photos were beautiful. Harry was very photogenic, although he hated taking them. He wanted to be the one behind the camera. However after his friend Matt passed, he lost interest. It’s been a difficult time for him lately. Photography used to be an escape, but now it was a reminder of how short life is.

Flipping through the magazine it was hard to choose a favorite picture, until you came upon the one of him lying in the field in huge sweater with a huge smile on his face. This was the Harry you were used to seeing. The one who was happy and wouldn’t let anything get to him. It’d been a long time since you’d seen him like that. You began to ache. If only he’d feel like this every day. You don’t mean to sound selfish but you wanted your Harry back. Not the one who only pretended to be happy, but was really in pain.

The photographs were amazing, however they couldn’t compare to the interviews and letter from Gemma. The letter from Gemma was first. If you’d known what she’d written you would have tried to prepare yourself for it.

After reading Gemma’s letter you had to set the magazine down to not get tears on it. You couldn’t fathom why you were so emotional, she’d told you those stories many times. But for some reason seeing them written down for the world to see hit you a thousand times harder. Now the world would have a glimpse into the Harry anyone close to him knew.

When the tears finally stop you pick up the magazine to see what else it had in store. Harry’s interview with Paul McCartney. Even though they weren’t face to face you knew Harry was probably a little nervous. He’s a very confident person but every once in a while he was self conscious. Most of the time it didn’t have to deal with other people, but just how he felt about himself. It didn’t happen very often,  it when it did, it took a great deal of persuading to convince him otherwise.  On a few occasions you had to reassure him that he didn’t need to change in anyway. He always wanted to tone his stomach because the ‘pudge just wouldn’t go away.’ You were thankful he wasn’t a self conscious person because being one yourself, you knew no one should experience that feeling. The interview seemed like it went smoothly and you hoped it did for Harry’s sake. He looked up to Paul and it would have been a shame it something had gone wrong.

Harry’s interview with Chelsea Handler was next. You expected it to be an amazing interview, but you had no idea that it would end up being your favorite interview that he would ever do.

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Julian Albert One Shot


Julian Albert One Shot: Imagine being Barry’s sister and even though Julian doesn’t like your brother he somehow falls in love with you.


Julian Albert x Reader


“I brought coffee and donuts” Chelsea announced as she entered the lab with two steaming cups of coffee and a box. She placed them on Julian’s desk and sighed disappointed at his empty chair.

-Looking for me?-she heard his brother’s voice speaking from his desk.

-You wish, dumbass-she laughed as she turned around to face him-Have you seen Julian?-

-Why do you want to see him?-he asked frowning. - -I have to speak with him about the last case, the judge has request the report-

-And you bring coffee and donuts?-he sighed-Chelsea…-

-I know, I know….you are going to give me the big bro speech now right?-

-Of course not!!I know you can take care of yourself, you have always been able to, since we were young, what I mean is that he is my co-worker and I hate him-

-I know Barry, but he is so hot and he has that superiority aura when he is talking and let’s not speak about his British accent-she sighed dreamily biting her lip-he turns me on-

Chelsea had been dating Julian three months now but she didn’t know how to tell his brother so she was trying to make him accept that she liked him. She preferred his brother to think that she only wanted to have sex with him, not that she had fallen in love.

-Chelsea that’s disgusting-he exclaimed with a disgusted face-And this is exactly why I don’t want you to talk to him-

-I don’t care what you think big brother, I like him and you aren’t stopping me from flirting with him-

-Flirting with who?-said a British voice from the door.

-Julian-Chelsea’s smile brightened when she greeted the blonde British man. -Chelsea, you are here for the report, am I wrong?-

-Exactly, the judge needs it-

-Here you have-he said as he handed it to her-Is that coffee?-

-Yes-she she shook her hair playfully as she approached his desk-I bought it for you and some donuts if you are hungry-

He smiled -Thank you Chelsea-

-So….how is everything going?-she sat at his desk and started a random conversation with him. She heard her brother groan behind her.

-Not bad actually but I’ve being having some problems with the latest cases, the meta humans are getting more complicated-

-I heard something at the office-she mumbled distracted.

-I cannot keep watching it anymore-Barry said as he left the lab.

-Finally-she sighed in relief and walked towards him and sat in his lap.

-I thought he would never leave-said Julian before kissing her.

She wrapped her arms around his neck-I love my brother but sometimes he is like a child-

-I hate him, I can’t see any similarities between you two-

-I can’t neither-she said as she started playing with the buttons of his shirt.

Not here darling, your brother could come in any moment-he smirked and kissed her slowly.

-I don’t care-she whispered against his skin, kissing his neck.

-NO WAY-Barry’s voice screamed from the door.

-Barry!!-she exclaimed

-Allen!!-Julian said

-I should have known-he hissed-How long has been this going on?-

-Three months-Chelsea slowly started to get up from her spot in Julian’s lap

-And you didn’t tell me-

-I wanted to! But I know you hate Julian…- -She didn’t want you to get mad at her- Julian explained.

-Shut up, Albert. You were snogging MY little sister in MY lab. No one asked your opinion- Barry looked like he was going to hit Julian.

-Don’t you dare talk to him like that Barry!!-Chelsea went forward his brother and confronted him even though he was taller.-It was my fault, I was the one who started flirting with him.I met him the first time I came to talk about the case. We talked about politics and your incompetence at work. I liked him since that. The next day I came, he asked me to take a drink, and this is how all started-she explained his brother.

While she explained it Julian had placed his arm around her waist.-I knew I loved her since I first saw her, she was so independent and strong minded, she wasn’t scared to say her opinion. Not to mention how sexy she is-he smiled lovingly and kissed her cheek-She walked through the door like she owned the whole world-

Barry sighed, he knew he couldn’t go against his sister desires, she always got what she wanted since she was a child.

-I actually understand it-he started slowly-My sister has dated more boys than I can remember, many different kinds of boys but all of them were gits. At least you are a git with money-

-Barry!!-she laughed-you should really try to get to know him, he is amazing when he isn’t rambling about how perfect he is-

-I’ll take it as a compliment-said Julian with his cute British accent while he crossed his arms.

-I love you dork-she laughed and kissed him.

He immediately put his arms around her waist and kissed her back.

-Puag-Barry said with a disgusting face-I think I’m gonna go and let you two enjoy..whatever you want to do-

He stopped at the door-Take care of her, Albert-

-Don’t worry, Allen. I don’t intend to lose her-

Keep Holding On:Moving On

Originally posted by frozen-delight

This is the sixth and final part of a series which is written for @sdavid09​​ TaleTeller’s Winter Writing Days Challenge. I had to have a winter theme and set it in a Mechanic AU with the song Keep Holding On-Avril Lavigne.

Characters: Y/n, Dean, OC Chelsea, Lisa, Amara, John, Mary, OC Lexie, OC Matt

Pairing: Dean x Y/n (MALE READER)

Warnings: Angst, sadness, accusations of cheating, sadness, crying, fluff, happiness, implied smut. 

Word Count: 3208

Summary: Dean realizes he needs to tell Y/n the truth about what happened with him and Lisa, but when he gets home, he realizes his secret might not be a secret.

A/N: FINAL PART of this series. I fucking love this series!!! I love AU apparently!! I don’t know if u think there’s enough of the AU and stuff, but I hope u think this fit in with ur challenge @sdavid09​​​ and is what u wanted. I shall miss this series a lot. I love it. Hope u all liked it.

Tagged Peeps: @waywardsons-imagines @whywhydoyouwantmetosaymyname @sallyp-53@malachai-winchester @helvonasche@kaitlynnlovegood@notnaturalanahi @wayward-mirage@riversong-sam@nerdflash @miss-miep@impala-dreamer@mypeopleskillsarerusty0203@greek-geek481@chelsea072498@tttiiigggeeerrrsss @deals-with-demons @plaidstiel-wormstache @impalaimagining@deathtonormalcy56 @winchester-gospels-67 @gecko9596

Masterlist

Keep Holding On Masterlist


It had been two days since he left the house. Two days since he saw y/n, his kids. Two days since it happened.

He felt sick to his stomach.

Her lips were slimy, the lip gloss tasting toxic to him, her perfume burning his nose, her hair feeling like sharp knives on his face.

Nothing about her was right.

She was a different. Unfamiliar. Vile. She wasn’t y/n.

He remembered the way her long claw like fingernails scratched at his hair, her other hand cupping his face, rough and scratching at his cheeks.

Dean shook his head, trying to get the thoughts of Lisa out of his head.

He never should’ve agreed to take her and Amara out again. Never should’ve taken her to the bar, drinking with her until it happened.

His heart hurt, knowing what he did. What they did. How was he supposed to face y/n again?

The shop was closed, Dean sitting in the dark for the past two days, the guilt eating away at him.

He hadn’t done anything except drink, hating himself for what he did to his husband, his family.

But the bottles had long since been empty, Dean only sat there with his thoughts invading his mind.

He had to tell y/n the truth, hoping for the best.

Dean picked himself off the floor, wincing at the stench that was coming off him, but that was the last thing on his mind.

He walked back home, the cool breeze in winter feeling refreshing on his body, shivering slightly also.

He stood on the sidewalk, staring at the house.

Was he going to do this? Admit what happened?

What if y/n didn’t forgive him? What if he left? What if he took their kids and never contacted Dean again?

Dean felt the pit of dread growing, threatening to consume him and shaking with fear.

However, he was determined to do this. Y/n had a right to know. After everything, he had a right to know.

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Right before I left for college, I was running my high school. Feel it. I knew where to park, I knew where to get the best chicken-cutlet sandwich, I knew which custodians had pot. People knew me. They liked me. I was an athlete and a good friend. I felt pretty, I felt funny, I felt sane. Then I got to college in Maryland. My school was voted number one … for the hottest freshman girls in Playboy that year. And not because of me. All of a sudden, being witty and charismatic didn’t mean shit. Day after day, I could feel the confidence drain from my body. I was not what these guys wanted. They wanted thinner, blonder, dumber … My sassy one-liners were only working on the cafeteria employees, who I was visiting all too frequently, tacking on not the Freshman 15, but the 30, in record-breaking time, which led my mother to make comments over winter break like, “You look healthy!” I was getting no male attention, and I’m embarrassed to say, it was killing me.
But one guy paid me some attention — Matt. Matt was six feet tall, he looked like a grown-up von Trapp child, and he was five years older than me. What?! An older boy, paying attention to me? I must be okay. Uff. I made him laugh in our bio lab, and I could tell a couple times that we had a vibe. He was a super senior, which is a sexy way of saying “should have graduated, but needed an extra year.” He barely spoke, which was perfect for all the projecting I had planned for him. We grew up in the same town, and getting attention from him felt like success. When I would see him on campus, my heart would race, and I would smile as he passed. I’d look in the mirror and see all the blood rise to my face. I’d spend time analyzing the interaction, and planning my outfit for the next time I saw him. I wanted him to call. He never called. But then finally, he called.
It was 8 a.m., my dorm room phone rang. “Amy, wassup? It’s Matt. Come over.” Holy shit! This is it, I thought. He woke up thinking about me! He realized we’re meant to start a life together! Let’s just stop all this pretending that we weren’t free just to love one another! I wondered, would we raise our kids in the town we both grew up in, or has he taken a liking to Baltimore? I don’t care. I’ll settle wherever he’s most comfortable. Will he want to raise our kids Jewish? Who cares? I shaved my legs in the sink, I splashed some water under my armpits, and my randomly assigned Albanian roommate stared at me from under her sheets as I rushed around our shitty dorm room. I ran right over to his place, ready for our day together. What would we do? It’s still early enough, maybe we’re going fishing? Or maybe his mom’s in town, and he wanted me to join them for breakfast. Knock-knock. Is he going to carry me over the threshold? I bet he’s fixing his hair and telling his mom, “Be cool, this may be the one!” I’ll be very sweet with her, but assert myself, so she doesn’t think she’s completely in charge of all the holiday dinners we’re going to plan together. I’ll call her by her first name, too, so she knows she can’t mess with me. “Rita! I’m going to make the green bean casserole this year, and that’s that!” Knock-knock. Ring ring. Where is he?
Finally, the door opens. It’s Matt, but not really. He’s there, but not really. His face is kind of distorted, and his eyes seem like he can’t focus on me. He’s actually trying to see me from the side, like a shark. “Hey!” he yells, too loud, and gives me a hug, too hard. He’s fucking wasted. I’m not the first person he thought of that morning. I’m the last person he called that night. I wonder, how many girls didn’t answer before he got to fat freshman me? Am I in his phone as Schumer? Probably. But I was here, and I wanted to be held and touched and felt desired, despite everything. I wanted to be with him. I imagined us on campus together, holding hands, proving, “Look! I am lovable! And this cool older guy likes me!” I can’t be the troll doll I’m afraid I’ve become.
He put on some music, and we got in bed. As that sexy maneuver where the guy pushes you on the bed, you know, like, “I’m taking the wheel on this one. Now I’m going to blow your mind,” which is almost never followed up with anything. He smelled like skunk microwaved with cheeseburgers, which I planned on finding and eating in the bathroom, as soon as he was asleep. We tried kissing. His 9 a.m. shadow was scratching my face — I knew it’d look like I had fruit-punch mouth for days after. His alcohol-swollen mouth, I felt like I was being tongued by someone who had just been given Novocain. I felt faceless, and nameless. I was just a warm body, and I was freezing cold. His fingers poked inside me like they had lost their keys in there. And then came the sex, and I use that word very loosely. His penis was so soft, it felt like one of those de-stress things that slips from your hand? So he was pushing aggressively into my thigh, and during this failed penetration, I looked around the room to try and distract myself or God willing, disassociate. What’s on the wall? A Scarface poster, of course. Mandatory. Anything else? That’s it? This Irish-Catholic son of bank teller who played JV soccer and did Mathletes feels the most connection with a Cuban refugee drug lord. The place looked like it was decorated by an overeager set designer who took the note “temporary and without substance” too far.
He started to go down on me. That’s ambitious, I think. Is it still considered getting head if the guy falls asleep every three seconds and moves his tongue like an elderly person eating their last oatmeal? Chelsea? Is it? Yes? It is. I want to scream for myself, “Get out of here, Amy. You are beautiful, you are smart, and worth more than this. This is not where you stay.” I feel like Fantine and Cosette and every fucking sad French woman from Les Miz. And whoever that cat was who sang “Memories,” what was that musical? Suze Orman just goes, “Cats.” The only wetness between my legs is from his drool, because he’s now sleeping and snoring into me. I sigh, I hear my own heartbreak, I fight back my own tears, and then I notice a change in the music. Is this just a bagpipe solo? I shake him awake. “Matt, what is this? The Braveheart soundtrack? Can you put something else on, please?” He wakes up grumpily, falls to the floor, and crawls. I look at his exposed butt crack, a dark, unkempt abyss that I was falling into. I felt paralyzed. His asshole is a canyon, and this was my 127 Hours. I might chew my arm off.
I could feel I was losing myself to this girl in this bed. He stood up and put a new CD on. “Darling, you send me, I know you send me, honest, you do …” I’m thinking, “What is this?” He crawled back into bed, and tried to mash at this point his third ball into my vagina. On his fourth thrust, he gave up and fell asleep on my breast. His head was heavy and his breath was so sour, I had to turn my head so my eyes didn’t water. But they were watering anyway, because of this song. Who is this? This is so beautiful. I’ve never heard these songs before. They’re gutting me. The score attached to our morning couldn’t have been more off. His sloppy, tentative lovemaking was certainly not in the spirit of William Wallace. And now the most beautiful love songs I’ve ever heard play out as this man-boy laid in my arms, after diminishing me to a last-minute booty call. I listened to the songs and I cried. I was looking down at myself from the ceiling fan. What happened to this girl? How did she get here? I felt the fan on my skin and I went, “Oh, wait! I am this girl! We got to get me out of here!” I became my own fairy godmother. I waited until the last perfect note floated out, and escaped from under him and out the door. I never heard from Matt again, but felt only grateful for being introduced to my new self, a girl who got her value from within her. I’m also grateful to Matt for introducing me to my love Sam Cooke, who I’m still with today.
Now I feel strong and beautiful. I walk proudly down the streets of Manhattan. The people I love, love me. I make the funniest people in the country laugh, and they are my friends. I am a great friend and an even better sister. I have fought my way through harsh criticism and death threats for speaking my mind. I am alive, like the strong women in this room before me. I am a hot-blooded fighter and I am fearless. But I did morning radio last week, and a DJ asked, “Have you gained weight? You seem chunkier to me. You should strike while the iron is hot, Amy.” And it’s all gone. In an instant, it’s all stripped away. I wrote an article for Men’s Health and was so proud, until I saw instead of using my photo, they used one of a 16-year-old model wearing a clown nose, to show that she’s hilarious. But those are my words. What about who I am, and what I have to say? I can be reduced to that lost college freshman so quickly sometimes, I want to quit. Not performing, but being a woman altogether. I want to throw my hands in the air, after reading a mean Twitter comment, and say, “All right! You got it. You figured me out. I’m not pretty. I’m not thin. I do not deserve to use my voice. I’ll start wearing a burqa and start waiting tables at a pancake house. All my self-worth is based on what you can see.” But then I think, Fuck that. I am not laying in that freshman year bed anymore ever again. I am a woman with thoughts and questions and shit to say. I say if I’m beautiful. I say if I’m strong. You will not determine my story — I will. I will speak and share and fuck and love and I will never apologize to the frightened millions who resent that they never had it in them to do it. I stand here and I am amazing, for you. Not because of you. I am not who I sleep with. I am not my weight. I am not my mother. I am myself. And I am all of you, and I thank you.
—  Amy Schumer
Acquainted

→Sebastian Stan x Y/N

→ Word Count: 840

→ Summary: A Broadway actress tests her luck with the film industry in The Martian. Opening night in Downtown L.A. has finally arrived and focusing on the premiere was a little difficult due to a certain someone. 

+summary sounds hella boring but i think this will be a good one. its short but I’m just getting my feet wet (also just some Y/N character development). I hope you enjoy the first part of Acquainted! 

+fluff? idk not really though 

Part I Part II

Acquainted;

to say that we’re in love is dangerous / but, girl, I’m so glad we’re acquainted 

 "So, Y/N, after working on your first film, do you prefer acting on a stage or in front of a camera?“ The darling interviewer asked the glowing goddess of an actress in front of him. 

 Y/N smiled, “Well Mario, I must say there’s nothing like the thrill of acting before hundreds of people. The post show jitters are indescribable. The theater is and always will be my home. Don’t get me wrong, I would do another film or a TV show in a heartbeat if I’m given the chance but there is seriously no compare to live theater for me.” Y/N couldn’t stop glancing at Mario Lopez’s dimples the whole time she was answering his question. Hot damn, this boy hasn’t aged at all since his days on Saved By The Bell. She was lost in thought until Mario placed a warm hand on her shoulder and said ‘thank you’. Time to move on, Y/N.

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SENSATES » Will/Hannibal fanmix for THIS FANFIC » LISTEN ON 8TRACKS

Songs:

01. Mess is Mine, Vance Joy | Hold on, darling, this body is yours, this body is yours and mine. Well hold on, my darling, this mess was yours, now your mess is mine.

02. Wilder Mind, Mumford & Sons | It’s in my blood, it’s in my water, you try to tame me, tame me from the start. When the din is in your eye, flash your flesh, desperate for a need to rise (…) You can be every little thing you want nobody to know.

03. Fire Meet Gasoline, Sia | It’s dangerous to fall in love, but I want to burn with you tonight. (…) So come on now, strike the match, strike the match now, we’re a perfect match, perfect somehow, we were meant for one another.

04. Glory, Radical Face | I was born when they took my name, when the world turned wicked, when I joined their game. (…) I sat and dreamed at the foot of your bed. You split my skull and reached inside my head and pulled out the pictures I’d been wishing I’d forget. And you stitched me up then and wiped the blood from off my chin.

05. I Will Possess Your Heart, Death Cab for Cutie | How I wish you could see the potential, the potential of you and me. It’s like a book elegantly bound, but in a language that you can’t read just yetYou gotta spend some time, love. You gotta spend some time with me and I know that you’ll find love. I will possess your heart.

06. Hurt, Johnny Cash | I hurt myself today to see if I still feel. I focus on the pain, the only thing that’s real.

07. Human, Of Monsters and Men | Cage me like an animal, a crown with gems and gold. Eat me like a cannibal, chase the neon throne. Breathe in, breathe out, let the human in. The air is silk, shadows form a grin, if I lose control I feed the beast within.

08. No Light No Light, Florence + The Machine | You are the hole in my head, you are the space in my bed, you are the silence in between, what I thought and what I said. You are the night time fear, you are the morning when it’s clear, when it’s over you’re the start. You’re my head, you’re my heart, and I’d do anything to make you stay.

09. Can’t Help Falling in Love, Haley Reinhart (Elvis Presley cover) | Like a river flows surely to the sea, darling so it goes. Some things are meant to be. Take my hand, take my whole life too, for I can’t help falling in love with you.

10. My Body is a Cage, Arcade Fire | My body is a cage that keeps me from dancing with the one I love. (…) You’re standing next to me, my mind holds the key.

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Who Do You Think You Are?

Title: Who Do You Think You Are?

Character(s): Actor Tom

Chapter Number/One Shot: One Shot

Rating: T

Genre: Fluff/Humour

Summary: Exhausted from filming, Tom takes a shower late at night, only to be interrupted by a disgruntled neighbour.

Warnings: None

Author Note: Look guys, I actually managed to finish something *groans*. I don’t know why writing is giving me a bit of trouble lately, but I’m slowly but surely getting out of this slump. Hopefully.


Tom couldn’t remember the last time he had been this exhausted. All he wanted to do was drop into bed and not leave it for a week. But he would be right back into filming once again come tomorrow afternoon, as he had been for the past week. The very last thing he wanted to do was waste time in the shower, but with his shirt sticking to his chest from sweat, Tom knew he didn’t have much of a choice.

A half an hour later, and he was being woken up by the cold spray of water.

“Shit,” he grumbled under his breath, running his fingers through his soaked curls. Tom hadn’t thought it possible to doze off in the shower. Snickering, he shook his head and turned off the water. He had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last time with the schedule he had.

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Please Be My Fake Boyfriend Part 2 - Requested (Michael)

Requested by hemmingsdie Part 1 here, ENJOY!!!

Michael moves his arm from around you as he shuffles around the booth, he gets out heading over to the bar, ‘Do you know that guy?’ Ashton asks nodding over to the bar, you follow his gaze to the crowded bar, squinting but not seeing anyone that stands out, ‘Who?’ you asks not looking away from the bar, ‘The one talking to Michael’ he adds, you look towards Michael’s red hair, your heart stopping and an odd lump filling your throat how it used to when he was around. You can’t seem to find any words as you look down to your hands taking in a deep breath.  

‘You okay?’ Ashton asks, clearly noticing your strange reaction, ‘Yeah, I’m…erm, I’m gonna get some fresh air’ you tell him, quickly moving from the booth, you hear him shout you but ignore him, heading for the exit, but changing your mind when you realise you hadn’t bought your bag with your ID in, instead you head for the back exit. You smile to the bouncer standing there.

‘Hey shug’ he nods and you nods a little, ‘Am I okay to get some air?’ you ask, he frowns as though he can’t really, ‘I’m trying to dodge an ex’ you chuckle slightly, he smiles nodding as he opens the door, give it a knock when you want me to let you back in’ he tells you and you nod, stepping past him and out. ‘Thanks’ your voice is small as you feel the air hit you, sighing when your back presses against the wall, you close your eyes, moving your head to face higher you take in a large breath.

You hear the click of the door and quickly pull yourself together expecting the bounce but it’s not, instead your met by you red headed boyfriend, he smiles softly, as the door closes behind you. He opens his arms clearly realising you had seen your ex, you move straight in, no words shared for a couple of minutes while his chin is resting on your head, while you breath in his familiar scent.

‘You okay?’ he finally asks but you shake your head, he must have felt it because he pulls away holding you at arm’s length, his eyes meeting yours, ‘I’m here’ he reassures you but you shake your head a little, ‘Do you mind if I leave?’ you ask. ‘What? Seriously?’ he asks shocked and you nod sheepishly.

‘You realise you left that prick two fucking years ago right?’ he asks, you take in a sharp breath hearing how harsh Michael’s tone has turned. ‘He left me, dumped me actually’ you correct him, he shakes his head. ‘And?’

‘I really don’t wanna see him…I, I know this sounds pathetic but I can’t face him’ you sigh, he shakes his head, a look on disappointment filling his eyes, your  can’t look at him and instead let your gaze drop to the floor. You hear him sigh after a minute, his hands taking your face and pulling it gently to look at him. ‘You’re a stronger person now than you were then, he has nothing on you (Y/N), I love you and that’s all that should matter’ he explains softly you nod.

‘That is all that matters it’s just….wait’ you freeze looking over his face, his serious look breaking into a smirk, ‘Yep’ he nods, you shake your head, feeling the blush as he looks so deeply, so lovingly at you, ‘You love me?’ you question and he chuckles a little. ‘I do’ he nods.

‘I….I love you too you giant weirdo’ you laugh pushing his chest a little making him laugh, ‘Michael’ you speak and he hums, taking your hand in his and pulling you closer, ‘Thanks’ you speak into his chest, ‘For?’ he asks. ‘Changing me’ you tell him, but he doesn’t reply.  ‘(Y/N) I didn’t change you, all I did was love you, well treat you right at the start, you just grew into yourself because you didn’t have that arse hole putting you down’ he tells you, you pull away nodding.

‘Yeah, yeah, why the hell am I standing at the back of this amazing club when its full of my friends, what…because that idiot is in there, he has nothing on me, he has no hold on me, he is nothing, I’m so….im better than him’ you speak the words, hearing your voice getting stronger by the second and Michael smiles proudly nodding with you. ‘Fuck him’ you nod, you quickly knock on the door while your courage is still up. It opens straight away and you walk in thanking the bouncer again.

You spin quickly, crashing yourself against Michael, your lips don’t move, just hold each other for a second, ‘I really fucking love you’ you whisper into his ear, before leaving him and heading to the bar to get a drink, your confidence coming back to normal. Before you have ordered a drink Bryana has grabbed your hand and is pulling you to the dance floor with no fight from you, you join her, laughing, singing and dancing, very well if you do say so yourself. It’s not long until you feel hands take your waist, moving behind you, Bryana’s eyes flash behind you frowning slightly and you know it’s not Michael or the boys otherwise she wouldn’t look so amused.

You turn to see him…his cocky smirk as usual dominating his face, his hands moved as you did and now hold your waist from the front, you push them off glaring at him slightly, ‘What are you doing?’ you snap, making him chuckle harshly. ‘I knew you noticed me gorgeous, it’s because you’re not over me’ he winks making you laugh now, your oddly proud of how confident it comes out and behind him you notice Michael coming thought the crowd, but he stops, watching you.

‘Oh Justin, darling don’t kid yourself, if one of us isn’t over the other then…well let’s just say, you’re the one coming to me’ you speak cockily, you see movement behind him again and this time you notice that Calum has joined Michael, Michael wearing a amused smirk.

‘Don’t act cocky baby, it’s doesn’t suit you’ he tells you, ‘You know what does suit you?’ he asks with a raised eyebrow and a cocky smirk that has managed to come back, he looks down to his jeans, ‘You on your knees’ he adds winking to you, you shake your head noticing Michael go to move but Calum grabbing him. You pull back your hand, your nails digging into your palm at how hard they are squeezed, you didn’t realise what you were doing until your fist comes into hard contact with his nose, he stumbles slightly, but when his hands moves from his nose it is pouring with blood, you feel your eyes widen as surprised with yourself as he looks.

‘You little bitch’ he growls but you just wink, he shakes his head rushing off through the crowded dance floor, pushing people roughly out of the way. You laugh seeing the proud look on Michaels face as he rushes over to you, ‘Holy shit’ he laughs, its then you feel a small frame crashing into yours, its Bryana, you know from the blonde hair that tickles your neck.

‘Bad ass’ Calum laughs, smacking Michaels back as he laughs, then you realise Ashton is also there as Bryana lets go of you and moves under his arm. ‘Holy shit’ you laugh slightly with a shaky breath, Michael moves, grabbing your waist with one hand while the other grabs your cheek and his lips are on yours before you can take in a  breath, they move in sync, you smile into the kiss but when you move to reach up to Michael’s neck you feel a sting on your hand and pull away hissing, you grab your hand with the other and look down to see two of your knuckles bleeding and your whole hand aches.

‘That kinda hurt’ you whine looing up to Michael and he chuckles, gently taking your hand with one of his and bringing it to his lips, his eyes on yours as he kisses your knuckle. ‘Then let’s get you to bed and look after by bad ass girlfriend’ he winks making you laugh as his arm wraps around the small of your back.


From Chelsea

Jerrod's Editing Horror Stories

So I just sent this to @piratebay-premium and then decided to share it with the discord room I’m in and this asshole I know, so I decided that you, my loyal Tumblr followers, should suffer as well.

So as some of you may know, I’m an editor for a publishing company. So this was around the time the fucking Fifty Shades of Grey movie came out.

My awful, awful story.

So this one girl and her mother come in. She looks like she’s in the middle of a transition to tumblr scene girl. Boys clothes. Mother looks like your typical fat suburban mom who rushed her kids to soccer practice and will try to kick your ass if you don’t like her cooking. Kid could not have been older than 17.

Put on the whole fake smile and the obviously fake overly-excited voice. “Hi! How are you two doing today?!”

Mother: “Hi, I’m Chelsea and this is my daughter.”
Daughter just smiles. I forget her name. They sit down and the mother starts telling me about how much of a wonderful writer her “star child” is. How she won several competitions at her school for creative writing and is in her creative writing class. Didn’t even ask me for my name. That’s how I first knew this was going to be fun.

The kid looks relatively embarrassed. She even asked if she could move on. She hands me the novel. “Enigmatic Necessities” I believe it was called. I could tell that this was going to be another bullshit romance thing. What surprised me was that the mother didn’t seem slightly concerned with the slightly-pornographic title.

I read the first page and it actually was not that bad.

The thing that was odd was that she wrote it in a guy’s perspective.

So I read it and I ask if I can keep it to read the rest. They were both ecstatic to hear this. I’m a fairly quick reader so when I ask to keep something, it usually means I’m taking an extra hour or two to actually read through something.

So it starts off alright. Usual bullshit character introductions. The protagonist, who we will call Tom, is a nerdy freshman in college who, because of his nerdiness, ended up never actually having sex. As soon as I read “I was still a virgin…” I knew what this was fucking about.

“Oh dear god, no. Please don’t tell me this teenage girl just presented me a fucking smut book with her mother happily cheering her on. God, don’t do this to me.”

Start progressing, find out that Tom here has recently fallen for some chick that we’ll call “Samantha.” The reason why Tom fell for Samantha was because he say her just straight up step on her abusive ex boyfriend and then punch him in the throat. That really turned him on. Literally.

“I felt a tingling sensation down there as it began to harden” we’re the exact words used.

So he starts having the courage to ask her on a date. Turns out that Samantha has a history of abusive ex boyfriends who were all assholes. Tom always talks about “it” getting hard EVERY FUCKING TIME HE SAYS HE SEES SAMANTHA CRY

THIS DUDE IS STARTING TO FIND OUT THAT HE GETS OFF TO CRYING CHICKS.

One day, Tom wakes up and “it” is as hard as it can be. He straight up says “I would masturbate, but it doesn’t do anything for me even more.”

So then he thinks “I get hard every time I see Samantha cry. What if I just look up video of girls cry? And so he fucking does. This 16-year-old girl straight up wrote a masturbation scene in this novel.

I’m not even joking. She straight up wrote him saying “Ugh! It feels so good! I haven’t felt this since the first time I did it when I was 10!”

He says it takes him like twenty minutes. Then…

“And then I felt it. White hot gooeyness slithers out of my penis and all over my desk and floor. I know it’s not scientifically possible, but it felt like it was two weeks worth of semen that finally exited me. I uncontrollably twitched and moaned as loud as possible.”

I took off my glasses and put my head down. The mother asked if something was wrong. I just looked at her and said “I get headaches every now and then. One just got to me right now. I think I’m almost done.”

I continue onward.

So Samantha and Tom REALLY start to like each other while Tom starts having the desire to have sex with Samantha. The condition is that he wants her to cry. After a lot of bullshit pages that I began to skimp through about them going to the movies or kissing, premature ejaculation, and other bullshit, we get to the true shit of this fucking novel.

The first time Tom and Samantha have sex.

Tom straight up tells her “I can only get off if I hear you cry.” Samantha fucking smiles and says she knows what to do. Turns out, Samantha has a fucking BDSM sex room in her fucking dorm room.

Tom is fucking in shock.

She undressed him and immediately, he fucking comes on her after she is done taking off his pants.

SHE STRAIGHT UP SMILES AND LICKS IT THEN LICKS HIM AND WHAT IS CONFUSING IS THAT THE AUTHOR SAID THAT IT GOT ON HER HAIR AND SHE APPARENTLY LICKS IT FROM THE TOP HER SCALPE

So she introduces him to the wonderful world of botched BDSM.

Are you ready for this next part?

Spiked testicle clamps.

“Trust me, darling, they will make you cum faster and harder!” says Samantha.

Instead of feeling intense pain, Tom feels INTENSE pleasure and he CUMS AGAIN.

“I felt the cum get forced out from my right testicle and immediately zipped all the way out of my dick and all over the floor.”

My mouth dropped.

Samantha places the next one on his remaining testicle and instead of cumming again, he says that he almost feels it come out but it doesn’t.

So now spiked clamps are on both of his testicles, and the next thing I know, he has his dick inside her, trusting in and out rapidly. These clamps are just straight up tearing up his ballsack but he’s too into having sex.

“Her inside felt warm, clean, and unused. It was then I realized that she was also a virgin. I heard a pop upon my next thrust and knew that I was the one who took her virginity and she took mine as well.”

Me inside my head: “I want to fucking die. God no. Please stop.”

So he straight up says it’s been like an hour and their still fucking each other and then it ends with him saying “I felt it… Closer… Closer! Closer! Ergghmm ugh! Ahh…” was what she actually fucking wrote.

I just glare at the kid. She knew EXACTLY what I just read.

I could feel her heart just sink to the bottom of her body with my facial expression.

I close the packet and tell her that I cannot, in good faith, publish this.

“Well, why is that?” the mother asks. The kid’s face tenses up.
“I really think you should review your child’s writing before presenting it to a publisher.”

I hand the rejected novel to her mother and tell her to have a nice day.

I didn’t even finish reading it. That was like halfway through the book too.

And that is the story of how I have lost even more innocence that I did not know I still had.

I hope you all enjoyed my suffering.

David Luiz Long Imagine -; [I'd like one that was like David has a long time girlfriend and takes her to a party with the other Chelsea players (Torres, Oscar etc) and gets jealous of her giving them all the attention, so when they get home he proves to her that she is his. The girlfriend can be called Rebecca pleaaaase thank you]

“C’mon go with me just this once"
“You know I don’t like parties David!” I explain whilst picking at my nails to distract myself.
“Please Becca it’s just this one party everyone else is going and you don’t have to stay long.” He begs placing his hands on my cheeks forcing me to make eye contact. He begins to pout in a dramatic plea and I know I am convinced.
“Okay okay alright I’ll go but just this once” I put my hands up as a sign of defeat and he smiles a breathtakingly beautiful smile which in turn makes me smile.
“Thank you baby” he mutters in my ear whilst hugging me tightly.
“Now go away and let me change” I say playfully and he quickly departs from my room allowing me to put on some party clothes.
Seeing as I’m not a party goer I don’t really have a choice when it comes to what to wear so I manage to find a dress right at the back of my wardrobe that I wore about a year ago.
I quickly remove the t-shirt and shorts that I have on and I just about manage to squeeze into the dress.
I put my hair straighteners in the plug and get to work on my face. When I finish putting on my mascara, blush and winged eyeliner I begin to straighten my hair. After about an hour I am almost done and just in time it seems because I can hear David yelling at me to hurry up from downstairs. I quickly reapply my deep red lipstick and put on my heels which match my dress and make my way downstairs.
“Finally! I thought I was going to die before you got ready. What took you s-” David begins to complain before his eyes rake up and down my body and I hear his sharp intake of breath and my subconscious gives a knowing smirk.
“You look beautiful sweetheart” he mutters in my ear once I’ve made my way downstairs placing his hand on the small of my back and I give him a small ‘thank you’ smile.
After what seems like ages we finally pull up to a huge three storey house that looks very modern and like it was pulled straight from the movies. My eyes widen at the amount of people that are here and I gulp.
“I thought you said this would be a small party” I remind David and he takes my hand and pulls me into the large hubbub of people choosing to ignore my question.
I huff and follow him into the house. He high fives and hugs a lot of his friends that I think I’ve met once or twice before but not enough to know their names. They all give me a polite wave and carry on chattering with David. After about ten minutes I get bored of standing next to David doing nothing so I think to myself seeing as this is the first party I’ve been to in ages I might as well explore. I excuse myself from David and make my way around the huge living room and notice the art on the walls. Whoever lives here must be really rich I think to myself before I hear my name being called a couple of times by different voices.
“Becca”
“Rebecca”
“Becca”
I turn around seeing as my name is being chorused and I am met by three happy smiling faces all with drinks in their hands. Fernando, Oscar and Frank. I recognize the familiar faces and move towards them whilst smiling and waving to show I had seen them. 
“Heya darling ! We haven’t seen you in ages” Fernando says moving to kiss my cheek. 
I begin to blush as Oscar wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me into a hug whilst muttering into my hair “where has David been keeping you hidden” before swiftly bending down to kiss my cheek. I feel a little weird being given all this attention but I don’t say anything because I don’t want to make it awkward. I giggle at Oscars sweet words as Frank compliments my outfit for the night.
“It looks very classy” he says smiling at me and I begin to blush again. Damn all these boys and their compliments.
“Thank you” I reply politely and we begin to chatter, catching up with each other. There’s a lot to talk about seeing as I haven’t seen David’s closest friends since around 3 months ago. 
After about an hour of talking and laughing with the Chelsea boys I begin get a bit restless and excuse myself from the them to go in search of David.
“I’ll come and help you” Oscar offers kindly and I take him up on his offer as I don’t want to get lost in this gigantic mansion. 
We begin our search downstairs but to no avail. David seemed to have disappeared but where would he go? Before I can really think Oscars deep voice interrupts my train of thought.
“Would you like a drink? 
“Alright then” I reply and he gives me a brief smile before going towards the table filled with alcohol. I know I shouldn’t drink but this is my first party in a long time so I want to make the most of it. Oscar quickly returns with a cup of cold vodka and I thank him.
“Let’s check for him upstairs” Oscar says placing his hand into mine and pulling me towards the staircase. I begin to panic. I know Oscar is just being friendly but David is quite the jealous type and I have a feeling he wouldn’t be happy with this. I ignore the part of me that tells me this is a bad idea and just go along with it. We reach the top of the stairs and Oscar finally releases my hand and I breathe a small sigh of relief. We split up and check all the rooms which takes a long time but David is nowhere to be found. I find an empty room with a huge bed in the middle and sit at the edge of the bed. My head is becoming a little fuzzy and a small headache is beginning to form. 
“Becca?” I hear Oscar call and I yell ‘in here’ so he knows where I am. He quickly joins me next to the bed and takes his hand in mine again.
“You couldn’t find him?” I ask timidly and he shakes his head ‘no’
I pull my hand out of his and attempt stand up. My legs wobble and my head begins to pound and I can just about make out Oscar quickly standing up and placing his large hands around my waist to steady me.
“Careful clumsy” Oscar smirks moving closer towards me. I retreat with every step he takes until I feel my back against the cold wall. I am cornered.
“So how long have you and David been dating” Oscar asks raising an eyebrow.
“Uhm .. a year or so?” I state but it sounds more like a question. 
“Wow you’ve been dating a whole year and David ditches you at a party? Dick move. If I was him I would never let you out of my sight” he says as my eyes widen and my breathing becomes erratic and his words. 
“He hasn’t ditched me. I’m sure he’s just in the toilet or something..” I mumble.
“For this long?” He questions closing the little space between us. His sweet breath is fanning my face and although I am a little drunk I am sober enough to know that this isn’t going to have a good outcome. 
“Oscar this isn’t a good idea” I place my small hands on his chest and he puts his left hand on my upper arm and his right hand on my cheek. 
“Nobody has to know” he says before moving his head closer to mine and closing his eyes.
I am holding my breath and thinking what to do when I hear the door handle being opened. I silently thank God that someone has come to save me from this situation but all the colour soon drains from my face when I realize my hero is in fact David. I curse under my breath and his eyes widen in shock as he takes in the scene in front of him before I see a flash of fear which then turns to anger in his eyes.
“What the fuck is this?” He hisses making his way over to us. My head begins to spin and I am speechless for once.
He moves towards Oscar and although he’s the one that got me into this mess I am afraid for him. I know David could easily do some damage as he is a lot stronger than Oscar and he doesn’t need this all over the press tomorrow morning so I try my hardest to prevent a bloody battle from occurring. David shoves him very hard and he stumbles. I quickly move in between them whilst placing my hands on David’s torso and trying to stop him from swinging at him. 
“David leave him alone he was just helping me” I say and I am surprised I managed to say a complete sentence without breaking down in tears which is exactly what I want to do right now.
“Helping you? Helping you!?” David scowls at me, fury emanating from every pore and I know he is ready to explode.
“Helping you what? Cheat on me?” He questions angrily running his hands through his hair.
“Oscar leave please this is between us” I tell him and he nods apologizing.
“David you’re getting angry over nothing. Nothing happened he was merely helping me find you seeing as you pulled a disappearing act.” I explain breathing heavily.
“I pulled a disappearing act? No that was you. You left me as soon as we walked in and then I left to go and find you but once I saw you were giggling away and having fun with my supposed best friends I decided to leave you to it.” 
I begin to open my mouth and say something before closing it again because I can tell from David’s expression he’s not done.
“Then I get distracted by my friend who I haven’t seen in two years and we stop for a chat. Once I’ve finished I come in search of you again because I know you dislike parties and I wanted to get you out of here. But then I walk in on you and Oscar about to kiss … Am I not enough for you anymore?” He finishes sadly his eyes still blazing with anger.
“That’s just it. He almost kissed me. I didn’t almost kiss him back because I love you. Why would I want any other guy when I have you?” I say moving towards him.
He grabs my arms twisting me around abruptly pushing me up against the wall. He grabs my face between his hands, forcing me to look up into his ardent determined eyes. I gasp, and his mouth swoops down. He’s kissing me, violently. Briefly our teeth clash, then his tongue is in my mouth. Desire ignites throughout my body, and I’m kissing him back, matching his pace, my hands knotting in his flawless curls, pulling it, hard. He groans, a low sexy sound in the back of his throat that vibrates through me.
“You. Are. Mine,” he snarls, emphasizing each word. He pushes away from me and bends, hands on his knees as if he’s run a marathon. “For the love of God, Becca.”
I lean against the wall, panting, trying to control the reaction my body has to him and only him.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper once my breath has returned.
“I’m sorry too. For overreacting. I know nothing happened and I trust you. Don’t ever scare me like that again I thought I had lost you.” He says and he pulls me into a hug.
“I love you so much David you will never lose me I can promise you that” I reply looking up at him.
“I love you too. More than you’ll know.” He murmurs against my head and I can feel his smile and I know we’re okay again.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY BAMBI!

For painfullymediocre - a little BikeMessenger!Harry and Architect!Draco for you - because apparently, there is nothing my brain won’t turn into Drarry if given half a chance.  I hope you have a wonderful day darling, big hugs xxx

Pic set by me, I don’t own the images.  Featuring Marlon Teixeira as Harry and Clark Bockelman as Draco.  

Some bad language.  No smut.  2.8K words. 

Fast-Track

  Harry was having one of those days.  One of those days where he couldn’t seem to stop griping about the fact he had a university degree, that he was very talented in numerous fields, but owing to an infuriating need to pay his bills on time, had agreed to a job as a bloody bike messenger.  

  Not there was anything wrong with being a bike messenger.  There were days when he loved whizzing around London, priding himself of delivering packages on time or even early.  He liked the ones marked ‘Fragile!’ the best, he saw it as a challenge and had never once been responsible for any breakages.  

  But the downside to a job like this was it also gave you a lot of time to think, and Harry was thinking too much today.  About how his friends all had proper careers, were getting married, hell, Ron and Hermione were even expecting their first baby.  And here Harry was, in a menial job, single, living in an attic flat so small he could barely stand up straight in the middle of it.  

  He sighed and swung his bike around in the busy street, hoping off to manoeuvre it between parked cars and trot up to the few steps to the four story town house listed on his delivery form, hoisting his backpack around to fish the jiffy envelope out before ringing the doorbell.  This was a whole house.  Even if it was split into flats per floor – per room – Harry could never afford a place like this.  He told himself he wouldn’t even want to live in Chelsea anyway, it was full of people with more money than sense, but he still struggled to put on a smile as the door finally opened.

  “Jam Pony Messenger!” he said cheerfully as a wizened old codger in his eighties scowled down at him.  He had a maroon, velvet dressing gown on that Harry thought belonged in a Dickensian novel and a genuine pipe clamped between his teeth.  

  “You’re late,” he grumbled, snatching up the parcel from Harry’s hand.  Harry gritted his teeth and willed himself to keep smiling.

  “I’m sorry about that sir,” he said, despite the fact he was well within the allocated delivery slot.  Some people just made themselves feel better by acting like douche-bags to the help, and those people would probably die alone Harry assured himself.  Alone in their grandiose mansions, but alone none the less.  

  He held out his tablet for the man with a stylo.  “If I could just get your signature…”

  “New-fangled codswallop,” the man muttered, pulling his glasses out of his top pocket and inspecting the tablet dubiously, like it might explode.  As Harry held it out for him, he caught a handsome man leaving the building next door out of the corner of his eye.  He was tall and so blond his hair was almost white, and he wore a harangued look on his face as he stopped at the bottom of the short flight of stone steps, buttoned his suit jacket and rested his briefcase by his feet. He was talking very fast to someone on the other end of the mobile phone pinched between his ear and his shoulder, obviously late for a meeting or something.  Harry didn’t want to eavesdrop too obviously, so returned his full attention back to his customer who was finally scribbling on the screen with a trembling hand.

  “Great,” said Harry brightly as he handed the stylo back.  “Have a nice-” The door slammed in his face.  “Day.  Wanker,” he hissed under his breath and shook his head.  This day really sucked.  At least, he soothed himself as he turned back around to fetch his bike, he’d been able to spy a bit of man-candy.

   The blond was still talking on the phone.  “What do you mean they’ve cancelled!” he bemoaned, taking the phone back in his left hand and looking at his flashy watch on the other. “I was up all night working on those plans!”  He listened for a bit to the other end of the phone as Harry threw his leg over the bike frame and readjusted his helmet, hoping he didn’t look too dorky.  Not that the guy was paying him much attention, but Harry liked to think he maybe thought he was okay looking too.  If he was gay.  There was always a chance he wasn’t, but Harry was normally pretty spot-on guessing who was eligible for a good flirt, and this guy definitely checked all the boxes.  

  Harry brought up his schedule on his tablet as the guy huffed and rubbed his eyes with his free hand.  “I guess,” he sighed, and Harry thought maybe he was on hold while someone rescheduled his meeting.  

  Harry also found himself sighing.  He had no jobs cued up, so he would just have to hang around until someone in West London decided they needed something moving urgently.  He could go back to the hub, he reasoned, but he always found once he did that he’d need to ride back out right where he just was, and that was tedious.  

  He only half noticed the teenager skulking by; the street was heavy with pedestrians and noisy from the traffic rumbling by, so it wasn’t that surprising.  But there was something about the way his shoulders were hunched under his t-shirt that caught Harry’s eye at the last second, just in time to look up and see the boy dart down, hand flashing out for the handle of the blond guy’s briefcase before he broke into a sprint.

  “NO!” the guy yelled, jerking forward, but the boy was already ten feet away.

  Harry didn’t even think.  He slammed his bike into gear and jumped on the pedals, shooting past the stunned guy still gripping his phone in his hand.  He wasn’t really sure what he wasn’t doing; all he knew was his day may have been crappy so far, but the look on that guy’s face was like the boy had just kidnapped his child, and Harry would be damned if he was going to let that slide by without a fight.  

  He rocketed between people already scattered by the fleeing thief.  Harry had to give him credit, he was lightning fast, but he wasn’t a match for Harry and his bike.  Which is probably why, after glancing over his shoulder to see he was being pursued, he darted right into the traffic.  

  “Shit!” cursed Harry, slowing and weaving between two parked cars, thankful to the one in motion that slammed on its breaks to let Harry into the flow of the road. The boy was already over the other side, running as hard as ever, but Harry decided to gain to ground before trying to cross the opposite lane.  Instead, he flew down the centre, between the vehicles going both ways, snapping his head back and forth to make sure he hadn’t lost the teenager.

  Soon enough, a side street loomed, and predictably that’s where the boy darted.  But Harry was already judging the cars next to him, and managed to swerve his bike between them and then in front of the van at a standstill by the bakery on the corner.  

  This street was much quieter, and Harry leaned into his handlebars, feeling the blood burning through his thigh muscles as he closed the gap between them…closer…until…

  He came up beside the boy and did the only thing he could think of, which was to yank the wheel and slam into him, sending him sprawling on the tarmac and the briefcase scattering from his hand.  Unfortunately, Harry also took a dive, crashing into the hard ground, scraping his skin and bashing his shoulder, his legs tangled painfully in his own bike frame.

  The boy was quicker back up to his feet, but he was panting and scowling incredulously at Harry, already limping away at a surprisingly fast rate.  Harry didn’t care though as he groaned and eased himself onto his arse, pushing his bike off and rubbing his bleeding elbow.  The briefcase was just a few feet away, half under a parked red hatchback, still locked and barely scratched from its fall.

  Harry had drawn a small crowd from his minor heroics, and a couple of people were drawing near, asking if he was okay.  But through them pushed a frantic figure, his blond hair visible before anything else, who drew up at the sight of Harry sat on the ground, his stolen property lying a couple of feet away.

  “Oh thank fuck,” he cried, sinking in front of Harry and grabbing his shoulders.  “Oh Christ alive, oh thank you thank you thank you.”  He dropped to sit beside Harry, one hand covering his face, the other resting on the leather of the case.  “You are my hero.”

  Harry gave a shaky laugh as a couple of people inspected his wounds and asked if he wanted them to call an ambulance.  “No, no,” he said, waving them off with a grateful smile.  “I’m fine, it’s worse than it looks.”  After a lifetime of scraped appendages he knew that although his grazes stung, they just needed a wash and they’d heal in a week or so.  

  The blond guy was taking slow, deep breaths, and appeared to be recovering somewhat.  “Thank you,” he said again, lowering his hand and looking Harry at sincerely.  He had beautiful silvery eyes, and Harry had to take a second to recover himself.  

  “Oh, hey, no problem,” he told him, easing himself to his feet.  The man hopped up too, offering a helping hand which Harry took even though he didn’t really need it.  “You seemed like you wanted your case back pretty badly.”

  The small crowd were dispersing with smiles and nods that Harry reciprocated to assure them he was really okay, and convey thanks for their concern.  The guy shook his head ruefully and picked up the case, hugging it to his chest.  His jacket had come undone to reveal more of his white shirt, still crisp despite his sprint, and a teal-green tie that complimented his eyes and hair very nicely. “I’m such an idiot,” he said as Harry pulled his bike back up and kicked the stand.  It didn’t look like it had incurred any damage, which Harry was extremely thankful for; he couldn’t afford any repairs right now.  

  “You’re not an idiot,” Harry said, fetching a bottle of water from his satchel and taking a swig.  “This area’s not exactly common for muggings.”

  “That’s not what I meant,” said the guy, taking the bottle as Harry offered it and draining a good mouthful.  He tapped the briefcase.  “The plans in here are hard copies, and there aren’t any back-ups.  I was rushing too much and I thought I’d be okay, normally I have triple copies, quadruple.”  He shook his head again and raised his eyebrows at Harry.  “I would have been monumentally screwed if you hadn’t chased that guy down.”

  Harry shrugged.  “He got away,” he said, stating the obvious, but the blond shook his head even harder.

  “Couldn’t give a shag,” he said firmly.  “These drawings are for a deal that could be worth millions, they’re all I care about.” He inhaled deeply, his eyes still trained on Harry, and stuck out his hand.  “Thank you,” he said once again, but Harry didn’t mind.  He was happy he’d been able to save his handsome stranger a world of grief, he could deal with a bit of awkward grovelling.  

  “No problem at all,” he insisted, shaking his hand which was warm and pleasant in Harry’s grip.  He tried to suppress the fleeting image of having those hands elsewhere on his body, but without much luck.  

  “Let me repay you,” said the guy, dropping his hand and gesticulating uncertainly.  “I mean, I’m not sure I can, but you could come back to my apartment and clean up, I could make you tea or something?”

  Harry couldn’t actually believe his luck.  “Yeah, sure,” he stammered.  “That would be great.”

  The guy gave him a beaming smile, and they began walking back the way they had chased the thief, Harry’s bike trundling along between them.  “I’m Draco by the way, Draco Malfoy.”  He drummed his fingers on the leather, the case hugged to his torso again.

  Harry would normally make a quip about the stupid names rich people gave their kids, but he found he couldn’t even muster one mentally.  It was such an unusual name, beautiful but strong.

  “Nice to meet you Draco, I’m Harry,” he told him, watching amused as Draco ran his hand fretfully through his fine blond hair.  

  “And do you often come to the rescue of hopeless architects Harry?” he asked, managing a shaky smile that Harry mirrored back.  

  “Oh yes,” he laughed.  “A fellow has to make a living, the courier business isn’t what it used to be you know.”

  That got a laugh out of Draco too, and Harry could see him start to relax.  As they walked, Harry tapped out a text with his thumb, one hand still on the handlebars, telling his boss he’d been knocked off his bike and asking for a longer lunch break.  He got a reply almost immediately telling him to take the rest of his shift off, and suddenly this day didn’t seem so rubbish after all.

   “I’m so sorry you got hurt,” said Draco as they crossed back over the main road and headed up towards his building.  “I should have said that first, I was worrying about the stupid drawings, are you okay, do you need to go to hospital?”

  Harry chuckled; he obviously hadn’t been listening to him talking to the people who had come over to help.  “Honestly I’m fine,” he said.  “Once I wash the blood off there’ll only be a few grazes.”

  “Well,” said Draco, fishing his keys out and unlocking the front door.  “I’d like to help in any way I can.  You can have a shower if you want, and I could lend you some clothes?”

  Harry looked down as they stepped into the cool entrance hall, out of the heat of the midday sun.  He hadn’t realised he’d ripped his trousers, and his t-shirt had blood on it.  “Oh, thanks,” he said.  “That would be great.”  They deposited Harry’s bike under the stairwell and headed upwards.  

  Draco’s flat was on the second floor, and was three times the size of Harry’s. Again, he tried to muster up enough energy to be jealous, but instead he just found himself appreciating Draco’s style and décor.  Being an architect, it wasn’t surprising to find lots of arty prints on the walls and modern looking sculptures dotted about the bookshelves and on coffee tables. It was a good deal more sophisticated than Harry’s horror movie posters and sci-fi memorabilia.  He pondered maybe there was a reason his flat was a fraction of the size of Draco’s.  

  “So,” said Draco, flying about the place.  Harry spotted there was a spare room filled with a couple of large easels, white-boards and a computer with two monitors, but it was to his bedroom that Draco darted.  “I’ll grab you some things, the bathroom’s through there, and I can make you some tea – or coffee?”

  “Tea,” said Harry, inspecting the bookcase.  “Two sugars, thanks.”

  Draco ushered him into the white-tiled bathroom with a pile of jeans, polo-shirt and a fresh towel.  “Use whatever you like, take your time, I’ve not got any more meetings now so I’ll be, you know, here,” he said, waving his hands about scattily.  “I’ll just…”  He stopped and took a deep breath.  “Sorry. I’m not used to being mugged.”  He gave a curt nod.  “I shall be in the kitchen, making whatever tea has the least caffeine in it.”

  Harry reached out and took his shoulder.  “Freak out all you like,” he said with a grin.  “My boss gave me the day off.  What say we have some tea and you can tell me all about that project I saved for you.”  He winked, for good measure.

  “I’d like that,” said Draco, sagging a little in relief.  The moment hung, and Harry suddenly felt bold.  

  “Then,” he said slowly.  “How about you take me to dinner?  I think that would make us even, wouldn’t it?”

  Draco’s eyebrows rose into his pale hair, and for a second Harry feared he’d misread the situation.  “You mean…like a date?”

  Harry smiled tightly.  “Nah, I mean, not if that’s not…if you’re not…”

  “I’d love to,” Draco interrupted.  It was Harry’s turn to be surprised, but Draco broke into a gorgeous grin that wiped away all doubt.  “I’d really love to.”

  Harry smiled.  It was worth the grumpy customers and the sore elbows and the general lack of direction in his life.  He’d found his inner hero, and now he’d found himself a scrumptious date.  “I’d really love to too,” he said.  

  Yep.  Today had turned out pretty okay he decided.  

  End

(PS - If anyone recognised ‘Jam Pony Messenger’ you are a cool human being)

Wildest Dreams: Chapter 1

CS Modern AU
Rated M
Words: 5.3K 
AO3/FF.net

When rising star Emma Swan has a one night stand with a man she picked up at her manager’s engagement party, she doesn’t expect to see him ever again. But of course her life is not that easy. (CS Modern AU inspired by the song Wildest Dreams by Taylor Swift) 

Chapter 1: he said let’s get out of this town

Emma breathes in deeply as she steps out on the terrace. This is her favorite time of day. The sun is just dipping past the horizon, causing reds and oranges and pinks to intermingle with the purples and blues of the early twilight sky. This time of year, the sunset looks like a painting and she can’t get enough of it. She places her hands on the railing, smiling as the breeze sweeps her mane of hair off her back and over her shoulder. 

Emma may not be a huge fan of these stuffy parties, but she can’t deny this venue is killer. Not that she should have expected anything less. Her manager, Regina, had impeccable taste and an attitude that demanded the best. That attitude is part of what Emma loves about her as a manager. Although she can come across as abrasive at times, the lack of sugar-coating can be extremely refreshing. Emma can always count on Regina to set her straight if she’s doing something stupid. Regina’s impeccable taste is undeniable in her choice of venue for her engagement party—the Chelsea loft is nearly surrounded by windows showcasing gorgeous views of the city lights and the Hudson. Regina had the place done up with rich purple and red curtains and sleek lights, changing the space from an industrial feel to something much more sophisticated and elegant.

She stares out over the city for a long time, enjoying the view, the cooling air of late summer, and the lack of company. She hasn’t really grown accustomed to being around so many people. And even though this is not a business party, it sort of feels like one, what with the high profile people in attendance and the photographers covering the event. If it’s rude or gauche for her to be out standing on the terrace enjoying the peace and the sounds of the city below her, then so be it. Emma has been socializing all evening and her face aches from the forced smiling. She takes a long sip from her martini and closes her eyes, settling herself for a moment.

“Quite a spectacular view, wouldn’t you say?” a voice interrupts her daydreaming, causing her to jump. “Sorry to disturb you, love,” the man adds in a gorgeous accent.

Keep reading

Right before I left for college, I was running my high school. Feel it. I knew where to park, I knew where to get the best chicken-cutlet sandwich, I knew which custodians had pot. People knew me. They liked me. I was an athlete and a good friend. I felt pretty, I felt funny, I felt sane. Then I got to college in Maryland. My school was voted number one … for the hottest freshman girls in Playboy that year. And not because of me. All of a sudden, being witty and charismatic didn’t mean shit. Day after day, I could feel the confidence drain from my body. I was not what these guys wanted. They wanted thinner, blonder, dumber … My sassy one-liners were only working on the cafeteria employees, who I was visiting all too frequently, tacking on not the Freshman 15, but the 30, in record-breaking time, which led my mother to make comments over winter break like, “You look healthy!” I was getting no male attention, and I’m embarrassed to say, it was killing me.

But one guy paid me some attention — Matt. Matt was six feet tall, he looked like a grown-up von Trapp child, and he was five years older than me. What?! An older boy, paying attention to me? I must be okay. Uff. I made him laugh in our bio lab, and I could tell a couple times that we had a vibe. He was a super senior, which is a sexy way of saying “should have graduated, but needed an extra year.” He barely spoke, which was perfect for all the projecting I had planned for him. We grew up in the same town, and getting attention from him felt like success. When I would see him on campus, my heart would race, and I would smile as he passed. I’d look in the mirror and see all the blood rise to my face. I’d spend time analyzing the interaction, and planning my outfit for the next time I saw him. I wanted him to call. He never called. But then finally, he called.

It was 8 a.m., my dorm room phone rang. “Amy, wassup? It’s Matt. Come over.” Holy shit! This is it, I thought. He woke up thinking about me! He realized we’re meant to start a life together! Let’s just stop all this pretending that we weren’t free just to love one another! I wondered, would we raise our kids in the town we both grew up in, or has he taken a liking to Baltimore? I don’t care. I’ll settle wherever he’s most comfortable. Will he want to raise our kids Jewish? Who cares? I shaved my legs in the sink, I splashed some water under my armpits, and my randomly assigned Albanian roommate stared at me from under her sheets as I rushed around our shitty dorm room. I ran right over to his place, ready for our day together. What would we do? It’s still early enough, maybe we’re going fishing? Or maybe his mom’s in town, and he wanted me to join them for breakfast. Knock-knock. Is he going to carry me over the threshold? I bet he’s fixing his hair and telling his mom, “Be cool, this may be the one!” I’ll be very sweet with her, but assert myself, so she doesn’t think she’s completely in charge of all the holiday dinners we’re going to plan together. I’ll call her by her first name, too, so she knows she can’t mess with me. “Rita! I’m going to make the green bean casserole this year, and that’s that!” Knock-knock. Ring ring. Where is he?

Finally, the door opens. It’s Matt, but not really. He’s there, but not really. His face is kind of distorted, and his eyes seem like he can’t focus on me. He’s actually trying to see me from the side, like a shark. “Hey!” he yells, too loud, and gives me a hug, too hard. He’s fucking wasted. I’m not the first person he thought of that morning. I’m the last person he called that night. I wonder, how many girls didn’t answer before he got to fat freshman me? Am I in his phone as Schumer? Probably. But I was here, and I wanted to be held and touched and felt desired, despite everything. I wanted to be with him. I imagined us on campus together, holding hands, proving, “Look! I am lovable! And this cool older guy likes me!” I can’t be the troll doll I’m afraid I’ve become.

He put on some music, and we got in bed. As that sexy maneuver where the guy pushes you on the bed, you know, like, “I’m taking the wheel on this one. Now I’m going to blow your mind,” which is almost never followed up with anything. He smelled like skunk microwaved with cheeseburgers, which I planned on finding and eating in the bathroom, as soon as he was asleep. We tried kissing. His 9 a.m. shadow was scratching my face — I knew it’d look like I had fruit-punch mouth for days after. His alcohol-swollen mouth, I felt like I was being tongued by someone who had just been given Novocain. I felt faceless, and nameless. I was just a warm body, and I was freezing cold. His fingers poked inside me like they had lost their keys in there. And then came the sex, and I use that word very loosely. His penis was so soft, it felt like one of those de-stress things that slips from your hand? So he was pushing aggressively into my thigh, and during this failed penetration, I looked around the room to try and distract myself or God willing, disassociate. What’s on the wall? A Scarface poster, of course. Mandatory. Anything else? That’s it? This Irish-Catholic son of bank teller who played JV soccer and did Mathletes feels the most connection with a Cuban refugee drug lord. The place looked like it was decorated by an overeager set designer who took the note “temporary and without substance” too far.

He started to go down on me. That’s ambitious, I think. Is it still considered getting head if the guy falls asleep every three seconds and moves his tongue like an elderly person eating their last oatmeal? Chelsea? Is it? Yes? It is. I want to scream for myself, “Get out of here, Amy. You are beautiful, you are smart, and worth more than this. This is not where you stay.” I feel like Fantine and Cosette and every fucking sad French woman from Les Miz. And whoever that cat was who sang “Memories,” what was that musical? Suze Orman just goes, “Cats.” The only wetness between my legs is from his drool, because he’s now sleeping and snoring into me. I sigh, I hear my own heartbreak, I fight back my own tears, and then I notice a change in the music. Is this just a bagpipe solo? I shake him awake. “Matt, what is this? The Braveheart soundtrack? Can you put something else on, please?” He wakes up grumpily, falls to the floor, and crawls. I look at his exposed butt crack, a dark, unkempt abyss that I was falling into. I felt paralyzed. His asshole is a canyon, and this was my 127 Hours. I might chew my arm off.

I could feel I was losing myself to this girl in this bed. He stood up and put a new CD on. “Darling, you send me, I know you send me, honest, you do …” I’m thinking, “What is this?” He crawled back into bed, and tried to mash at this point his third ball into my vagina. On his fourth thrust, he gave up and fell asleep on my breast. His head was heavy and his breath was so sour, I had to turn my head so my eyes didn’t water. But they were watering anyway, because of this song. Who is this? This is so beautiful. I’ve never heard these songs before. They’re gutting me. The score attached to our morning couldn’t have been more off. His sloppy, tentative lovemaking was certainly not in the spirit of William Wallace. And now the most beautiful love songs I’ve ever heard play out as this man-boy laid in my arms, after diminishing me to a last-minute booty call. I listened to the songs and I cried. I was looking down at myself from the ceiling fan. What happened to this girl? How did she get here? I felt the fan on my skin and I went, “Oh, wait! I am this girl! We got to get me out of here!” I became my own fairy godmother. I waited until the last perfect note floated out, and escaped from under him and out the door. I never heard from Matt again, but felt only grateful for being introduced to my new self, a girl who got her value from within her. I’m also grateful to Matt for introducing me to my love Sam Cooke, who I’m still with today.

Now I feel strong and beautiful. I walk proudly down the streets of Manhattan. The people I love, love me. I make the funniest people in the country laugh, and they are my friends. I am a great friend and an even better sister. I have fought my way through harsh criticism and death threats for speaking my mind. I am alive, like the strong women in this room before me. I am a hot-blooded fighter and I am fearless. But I did morning radio last week, and a DJ asked, “Have you gained weight? You seem chunkier to me. You should strike while the iron is hot, Amy.” And it’s all gone. In an instant, it’s all stripped away. I wrote an article for Men’s Health and was so proud, until I saw instead of using my photo, they used one of a 16-year-old model wearing a clown nose, to show that she’s hilarious. But those are my words. What about who I am, and what I have to say? I can be reduced to that lost college freshman so quickly sometimes, I want to quit. Not performing, but being a woman altogether. I want to throw my hands in the air, after reading a mean Twitter comment, and say, “All right! You got it. You figured me out. I’m not pretty. I’m not thin. I do not deserve to use my voice. I’ll start wearing a burqa and start waiting tables at a pancake house. All my self-worth is based on what you can see.” But then I think, Fuck that. I am not laying in that freshman year bed anymore ever again. I am a woman with thoughts and questions and shit to say. I say if I’m beautiful. I say if I’m strong. You will not determine my story — I will. I will speak and share and fuck and love and I will never apologize to the frightened millions who resent that they had it in them to do it. I stand here and I am amazing, for you. Not because of you. I am not who I sleep with. I am not my weight. I am not my mother. I am myself. And I am all of you, and I thank you.

—  Amy Schumer, at the Gloria Awards and Gala

1,000 FOLLOWERS!!!

So today I smashed through 1,000 followers (thank you again quietpastelcolours​!) 

I asked you guys for any ideas on how to celebrate, and goldentruth813 suggested very sweetly that in light of my own recent engagement I should do some kind of Drarry proposal.

So, story time.  I had an inkling my lovely man might be planning to pop the question, and therefore I’d been thinking about weddings and stuff.  Then Taylor Swift’s new song “Wildest Dreams” came out, and I LOVED the vintage Hollywood video and spent the whole day with the song literally on repeat.

Turned out I was right, my fella proposed, and afterwards I stood on the balcony looking out over London and listened to the song one last time before going to bed.  It is now my engagement song.

So, here’s a 1950s Drarry AU, where the boys are both stars of the silver screen, but only have eyes for each other.

1K words, no smut, just fabulous feels.  Pic set by me, featuring Montgomery Clift as Harry and Errol Flynn as Draco.  I don’t own the images.  

***

Wildest Dreams

 “He’s so tall and handsome as hell,

He’s so bad but he does it so well.”

   “And CUT!” the director hollered.  Harry was grateful to let go of his co-star – the effervescent Ginevra Weasley – and step away from their passionate embrace.  “Great job guys, great job,” Lockhart cried as he came over, slapping his hands together and rubbing them enthusiastically. “Ginny, baby, you’re blowing me away here.”

  She rolled her eyes.  “Sure Gil,” she drawled.  “I’ll be in my trailer.”  She winked at Harry and sashayed away, managing to look cool as a cucumber despite the heat of the African desert.  

  “Man,” Lockhart whistled.  “What a doll, huh?”

  Harry gave a non-committal noise and looked around at the crew resetting the scene.  “Are we done for the day?” he asked, not wanting to hope too hard.  But Gil clapped him on the back.

  “Sure Harry, you take off,” he said grinning and already looking around as the next shot began to take shape.  “It’s all Gin for the rest of today – you might want to pop by and say hi later, I’m sure she’ll need a back rub after such a long day.”

  Harry sighed.  Most people knew better than to push him on to his co-stars.  Lockhart tended to see what he wanted though, and if Harry’s…preferences…were too much for him, then he could carry on in his fantasy.  

  “Whatever you say Gil,” he said, shaking his head as the makeup girls descended upon him to scrape off all the gunk they’d layered on his face earlier in the day.  

  He was wiped, and was relieved to plough through the sand out to where his tend stood, away from the hubbub of the set and most of the other tents (or trailers as they still tended to call them.  You could take the man out of Hollywood…)

  His shirt was already half undone as he stepped inside, thinking about a nice cold beer maybe from the catering guys, when he realised his affairs were not as he’d left them.

  “It’s about bloody time,” Draco Malfoy cried around the cigar between his teeth, standing from his seat by the small dining table and raising a saucer of champagne aloft. Red rose petals littered every surface from the rugs on the tarpaulin floor, to the writing desk and the table Draco was stood beside, to the king-sized bed he’d had flown in especially from the States. “Potter old chap, I was starting to fear you’d wilted in the heat.”

  Butterflies swirled inside Harry’s chest like they always still did at the sight of his lover, even after all this time, but especially in light of such an unexpected and romantic visit.  “Draco,” he breathed, stepping carefully over to him, not wanting to crush any of the flowers under his sandy boots.  “When did you – how – what-”

  “Come now darling,” he said in his daring British accent that left Harry weak at the knees.  He stubbed out his cigar and handed Harry a fresh glass of champagne, seizing him around the waist.  “Does a man need an excuse to fly across the world and spoil his beloved rotten?”

  It had always been his way, ever since they’d met on the set of “Pure Blood and Pure Love,” some eight years ago.  Harry had been all wide-eyed innocence, his career just taking off.  Draco though had seemed to know stardom was in his veins, and played the part of England’s most coveted darling of the silver screen right from the start.

  “You’re up to something,” Harry challenged, leaning back and arching his eyebrow.  

  Draco sighed dramatically.  “You caught me,” he said, and swept out his hand holding his drink to encompass the room. “Subtlety was never my strong suit.”

  Harry watched as he placed both their glasses down, and became uncharacteristically serious. He took a deep breath, his hands holding on to Harry’s, his thumbs rubbing over the knuckles.  “I have missed you terribly these past several weeks,” he confessed.  When not gallivanting across the globe, they shared their time between their mansion in Hollywood and their penthouse in London.  Draco had written him several letters from Chelsea bemoaning his boredom and demanding half-heartedly that Harry should abandon shooting and come home immediately.

  “I know,” Harry said quietly, stepping closer together.  “I’ve missed you too.”

  “Solitude has a habit of making one consider one’s position in life, and how to better it,” Draco said, his eyes focused on their entwined hands.  “And it came to me it was about time I did the gentlemanly thing, and make an honest man out of you.”

  The words sunk into Harry’s brain slower than they should have.  “Whu-” he managed to utter…

  …before Draco dropped down on one knee.  

  “Harry James Potter,” he said, his voice wavering slightly, and he cleared his throat. “Will you do me the utmost honour of marrying me?”

  Harry was pretty sure he’d just been hit by a Sherman tank.  Marriage?  Was that allowed, could they do that?

  And in the split second it took him to think that he decided he didn’t care a rat’s ass. He was gonna marry the man of his dreams and he dared any schmuck on the planet to try and stop him.  

  “Are you kidding baby?” he drawled, giving him his million dollar smile.  “There ain’t enough yeses in the world to answer that question.  Get up here and kiss me God damn it!”

  Draco leapt to his feet and slung his arms around Harry’s neck.  “Do you really mean it?”  He asked before pressing their lips together, excitement coming off him like lightning in a summer storm.  

  Harry held him close and tight, letting his joy flow right outta his skin.  “Never,” he told him, emotion making his words thick and tight.  “In my wildest dreams did I think anyone could make me as happy as you do Draco Malfoy. I love you too much.”

  “You could never love me enough,” Draco replied, his face wet with tears.  “And I do declare we shall have forever together to prove that.”

  Harry nodded.  “Forever,” he agreed, then leant in to kiss him once more.  

 Fin

Sassy Curves - Requested (Calum)

Hey guys, so Anon requested (Would you do a Calum one where you’re curvy so some of his fans call you fat even though you’re confident so on twitter you kinda just can’t keep quiet when they say that and end up tweeting sassy replies and calums just like really proud you stuck up for yourself? please??) ENJOY!!!!!

‘@Y/Twitter doesn’t deserve Calum, she is fat, he could do better’

‘Did anyone see @Y/Twitter in NY last night looked like an Elephant’

‘Where’s the piggy piggy? Oh there you are @Y/Twitter’

‘I wonder how @Y/Twitter feels watching Cal with those models in his video with her being SO fat’

‘What’s with fat bitches getting hot nice guys? @Y/Twitter would know’

‘@Y/Twitter what do you have that other don’t? Fat?’

‘No wonder Cal never gets any sleep @Y/Twitter  takes up 4/5 of the bed’

You smile a little as you read the comments people have sent you on twitter, you don’t let them get to you, and you never have, your confident enough to brush it off. Reading them just reminds you how much Calum loves you because you know you are a little big but for Calum to stick by you through all the shit you get, you know he really does love you and nothing these ‘fans’ ever say makes you questions that.

‘(Y/N), Ash wanted to know if you would maybe have a word with Cassie, she got a really nasty message this morning from a girl and its upset her, Ash thought since your so okay with it that you could make sure she okay cause he doesn’t think she is’ Calum whispers to you, you rest your head on his shoulder and watch the movie.

‘Yeah that fine’ you whisper back and he kisses the top of your head.

‘You’re amazing’ he tells you.

‘I know’ and he chuckles a little his shoulders bouncing making your head jiggle slightly. About twenty minutes later Cassie shuffles out of the room. You watch her and lock eyes with Ashton from the other side of the room; you nod and give him a quick smile before following her out. You look in the kitchen and she isn’t there so you stand outside the downstairs toilet, waiting for her but when she doesn’t come out after ten minutes you knock ‘Hey Cas, you in there?’ there isn’t a reply so you try the door and find that it is open and she isn’t there, you roll your eyes at your stupidity and head upstairs thinking she has to be in the bathroom. Again you lean against the wall and wait. It’s been five minutes when you hear a little whimper and you move closer to the door, gently tapping.

‘Hey Cass, can I come in?’ you ask, you hear shuffling and a sniffle and then the lock on the door being undone, it opens a slither and you gently push it further as you walk in, closing it behind you.

‘Come here’ you tell her, seeing her tear stained face and red eyes. She comes closer and your wrap your arms around her rubbing her back and she does the same sniffing slightly. ‘Don’t cry okay; don’t take any notice of anything they say. Ashton is head over heels for you and that’s not going to change, I get that what they say is horrible but it means nothing, its jealously’ you tell her, you spend the next twenty minutes calming her down and soothing her and then she finally agrees to go back to the movie which is probably nearly over by now. You watch her head down stairs and you slip into your room pulling out Calum’s laptop.

It’s not fair that people should feel like that because of little girls nasty words, Cassie shouldn’t feel like that and you, you shouldn’t have to deal with it, you can and you don’t mind it but why should it be like that. You have wanted to reply to all the hate messages you have had over the last seven months but never have because you didn’t want things to blow up in Calum’s face for what you say but now, now you reply.

‘@Y/Twitter doesn’t deserve Calum, she is fat, he could do better’ you hit reply and type ‘I prefer the word curvy but if you’re going with fat that’s fine darling’

‘Did anyone see @Y/Twitter in NY last night looked like an Elephant’ and again ‘Oh dear, hunnie you should go back to school that was LEOPARD print’

‘Where’s the piggy piggy? Oh there you are @Y/Twitter’ and again ‘To be fair I do snort when I laugh sometimes’

‘I wonder how @Y/Twitter feels watching Cal with those models in his video with her being SO fat’ you can’t think of a sassy reply so just type ‘I am overcome with pride that MY amazing boyfriend is living his dream’

‘What’s with fat bitches getting hot nice guys? @Y/Twitter would know’ you smile as you type ‘Some guys like to have something to hold onto ;)’

‘@Y/Twitter what do you have that other don’t? Fat?’ this one is simple ‘Calum’

‘No wonder Cal never gets any sleep @Y/Twitter  takes up 4/5 of the bed’ and finally ‘Oh sweetheart that’s not why he doesn’t get sleep, has mummy told you about the birds and the bees?’

You smile satisfied that you will have at least kept those couple quite for a little while and close the laptop jogging down the stairs, when you reach the living room, everyone is chatting, the TV switched off and you stick out your tongue as your eyes lock with Calum’s making your way over and flopping down next to him. He continues to stare at you a smirk on his face.

‘What?’ you questions.

‘I’m so proud of you, I have been waiting for seven months for you to take out your sass and slap them in the face’ he tells you making you laugh at him words.

‘You’ve seen my tweets already?’ you ask amazed.

‘Dame Right I have and I’m not planning on getting much sleep tonight beautiful’ he whispers the last part with a cheeky wink as he leaves a sweet lingering kiss on your lips. 

From Chelsea

Once in a Lifetime: Chapter 3

Once in a Lifetime: A Harry Styles AU Imagine Series

[masterlist]

Hello everyone! I am so so sorry for making you wait for so long! I was on vacation and then I had to think about how I wanted to execute this chapter cause it goes back and forth a lot! SOOOO forgive me! I promise I will update with another chapter within the week!

Chapter 3: The Way Love Happened

Fallin’ for You by Colbie Caillat

January 2009: Holmes Chapel

Harry’s POV

It has been almost two weeks since I’ve seen Y/N.

She has been in the States for her ‘vacation’…well that’s what she called it; it was just a college visit in my opinion.

I was excited to see my best friend because I haven’t since I officially made her my girlfriend on Christmas Eve.

Wow, I can’t believe I get to call her my girlfriend. The person I’ve been in love with since I was a kid; well I know I still am one. I might only be 14 but I knew with everything I had, that I was in love with her and she would be the person I would spend the rest of my life with.

On the first day back at school from Winter break, I waited outside the front steps of the main building for Y/N.

I saw her mum’s red BMW pull up a few yards from where I was and stood up. Y/N stepped out of the car and waved at her mother as she took off. Her mum saw me and waved before she disappeared down the street. Her dad may have a problem with me, but her mum never did, or at least I didn’t think so.

“Harry!” Y/N’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

“Hey!” I gave her a hug and kissed her cheek.

“I have so much to tell you!” She said excitedly after she kissed me on my cheek.

“Good, cause I want to hear everything.” I laced my hand in hers as we walked up the steps and into the double doors.

Y/N and I haven’t had classes together since primary school. She was genius and was taking classes with kids older than us, while I was just doing the normal classes for my age, but I always made sure to walk her to class first. I never cared if I was late, but she always had to be on time or it would drive her insane.

During school days, the only time I ever saw her was lunch hour and a few times in between classes. Lately, when I’m not working after school, we would stay after to study or just to hang out since her parents have been home; usually, we would go to each other’s houses but I honestly didn’t want to see her dad.

We sat together with a couple other classmates during lunch and she continued to talk about her week in Boston. I could listen to her for hours, I loved her voice and I nothing made me happier than seeing her happy.

“The campus was so beautiful! I love the vintage buildings that the college kept and I can’t wait to get my own place when I’m there… I can’t believe I’ll be going there in 2011! Well hopefully…” She grinned as she opened her lunch box.

“2011? We don’t graduate until 2012.” Our classmate, Chelsea, raised her eyebrow.

“Yeah! I’m graduating early, I will be finished with sixth form (junior & senior year) and graduate by June of 2011.” She took a bite of an orange slice.

“What?! Seriously? I’m still in secondary classes (freshman & sophomore year) though!” James, another class mate, eye widened.

“Well Y/N’s been skipping ahead for as long as I could remember so that doesn’t surprise me.” I shrugged and laced my hand in hers under the table.

“So when did you two start having a thing?” Chelsea winked at us.

“Yeah the whole school’s been whispering about it!” James nodded.

I could see Y/N’s face turning pink, I didn’t blame her, this was new to the both of us.

“It just happened.” I took a bite of my sandwich.

“Well you two are pretty much inseparable, it was only a matter of time before you guys finally got together.” James nonchalantly said.

“What! We aren’t together tha-” She began.

“Well what can I say? She couldn’t resist my charm anymore.” I stuck my tongue out at her and winked at our classmates.

- - - - -

February 2019: Manhattan, New York

Your POV

“Oh shit, I’m going to be late.” I muttered under my breath as I looked down at my watch: 7:55am. I was waiting for my daily morning Starbucks to finish being made as I scrolled through the New York Times app. I was supposed to be at work at 8, but I knew that it was a good 10 minute walk from this Starbucks to the hospital.

“Soy caramel latte!” The barista shouted and I immediately hurried to the pick-up counter and grabbed the hot cup of coffee.

I was half-way out the door when someone accidentally bumped into me, causing my coffee to spill all over my pencil skirt and blouse.

“Ouch! Shit! Hot- hot-hot!” I held the coffee cup away from my body, my hair all fell in my face as I looked down at my now ruined outfit.

“Oh damn! I am so, so, sorry!” A deep British accent apologized as I saw a man’s hand dabbing at my skirt with napkins, repeatedly.

What… is… he… doing…?

I looked up to see a beautiful, dark haired man in a nice pair of black slacks and white button up shirt, frantically cleaning my skirt. He didn’t realize where his hands were until I completely stopped and just stared at him.

It finally hit him and he stood up straight, looked me in the eyes and blushed.

“I am so sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going, please forgive me!” He said as he handed me the rest of the napkins.

“Ah-mmm it’s okay. It’s fine, I think I have another outfit in my office.” I visualized my office remembering that I did have a full pant suit in there.

“Please, no, let me make it up to you. How about lunch? On me?” He flashed me a smile as he slicked his hair back with his fingers.

I didn’t know how to respond, I think I was blushing. 

He was absolutely gorgeous. He was definitely mixed since he didn’t look like he was just British… Middle Eastern maybe? His skin tone was tan and his eyes were light brown; he had a clean, well-kept beard and his hair had a unique style: buzzed cut on the bottom half of his head and long at the top half and lazily slicked back.

“I’m Zayn by the way.” He held out his hand and I gracefully shook it.

I haven’t been interested in or so much as looked at a guy in years.

“I’m Y/N,” I blushed.

“Y/N? Beautiful name. How about Saturday?” He pulled out a small business card and handed it to me, “Stop by any time and let me repay you for ruining your outfit.”

“Okay.” I slowly nodded and looked into his eyes.

“Looking forward to seeing you,” He winked then pushed the door open and left.

I stood there staring at the coffee and napkins in one hand and his card in the other.

I looked down at the business card: Luhring Augustine. Whoa, that’s a really well-known art gallery here in New York, I moved my thumb to see his information.

Zayn Malik, Art Curator & Manager
Cell: xxx-xxx-xxxx
Work: xxx-xxx-xxxx

Art curator?

Wow.

I quickly checked my watch again: 8:08am.

Shit.

I am definitely late now.

- - - - -

January 2009: Holmes Chapel

Your POV

Tonight was my first official date with Harry and I was absolutely nervous. A complete mess.

Even though he’s been my best friend for over nine years, things were slowly starting to be different between us.

He was more loving, more sweet and romantic. Granted he was still silly, cracking jokes, being cheesy, always baking, but I could feel that he was more attentive to my feelings and emotions.

A week after school started again, Harry asked if he could take me on a date and I happily agreed, not realizing how nervous I would be.

My parents thought I was going to the movies with Chelsea, but little did they know, I would be going on my first official date. Anne was picking me up and dropping us off in town; she didn’t know that my parents had a problem with Harry. I begged him not to tell her, I didn’t want her to be upset.

I decided to wear a simple dress with flats and a long necklace with a heart pendant that dangled between my chest.

At 7pm the doorbell to my house rang, I grabbed my purse and I raced downstairs to answer.

“Y/N, you look amazing.” Harry slowly breathed as I stepped out of my house.

“Harry, you see me all the time.” I hurried and closed the door behind me, I was glad my parents were upstairs in their room.

“And you always look amazing.” He kissed my cheek.

I just blushsed and shook my head, “You don’t look too bad yourself.” Harry was wearing a navy blue button up shirt with jeans.

“So what are we doing tonight?” I asked as we walked towards Anne’s car, which she was waiting for us in my driveway.

“It’s a surprise.” He winked as he opened the back car door for me and then slid in after me.

“Hi Anne!” I leaned forward and kissed her cheek before I settled in the back seat and buckled my seatbelt.

“Oh Y/N! You look lovely darling!” She squealed as she looked at my outfit.

“Thank you!” I blushed and looked over at Harry who was nodding in agreement.

Anne had pulled up to W Manderville Bakery. I shot a confused took at Harry but he smiled back at me.

“Thanks for driving us mom! See you in a few hours!” He opened the door and held his hand out for me to take.

“Bye Anne! Thank you for driving us!”

“No problem dears! Have fun!” She waved and winked at us.

After she drove up, I turned to Harry, “What are we doing at your job?”

“Stop asking so many questions.” He laced my hand in his and guided me towards the door of the closed bakery.

I was surprised when the door wasn’t even locked as he turned the knob and lead me inside.

The bakery was closed but there was a table set up with origami napkins, silverware and two chairs with candles and a single red rose in the middle.

“Harry… what… is all this?” I gasped. There were a few candles lit that was set up around the bakery and I saw a lady standing behind the counter, beaming at us.

“This is Linda, she is one of my bosses!” Harry introduced us.

“Hi! I’m Y/N.” I shook her hand.

“Oh! I’ve heard so many wonderful things about you! It’s so nice to finally meet you!” She shook mine.

Harry walked over to the table and pulled a chair out, “Come, sit.”

I nervously walked towards him and sat down as he pushed the chair under me.

“I’ll be right back.” He smiled as he and Linda hurried to the back of the bakery through the swinging door.

I fiddled with the hem of my dress, nervously biting my bottom lip, as I scanned the bakery.

Harry definitely tried his best to make this as romantic as possible. One single red rose, just the way I would like it, he knew a bouquet would overwhelm me. There were dessert scented candles all around the bakery.

Harry came through the swinging door with four dishes in his hands. He placed one salad plate and pasta dish in front of me and the same two in front of his seat. He rushed back through the double doors and came out with a basket of garlic knots.

I looked down at the pasta dish in front of me, it smelled absolutely delicious.

“Did you… make this?” I looked at Harry in awe.

“Yeah, I realized that I’m always baking for you, but I’ve never cooked for you before.” He grinned, “For dinner tonight: hand tossed salad with a homemade dressing by yours truly, baked ziti with garlic knots.”

“Wow Harry, you didn’t have to do all of this.” I blushed.

“I know I don’t have too, but I want too. You’re special to me. Now eat up!”

Harry and I spent all of dinner talking about our future plans while we laughed and joked. Everything was delicious. I was really impressed with his cooking skills. For a fourteen year old, Harry knew exactly what he was doing in the kitchen.

Harry told me that he dreamed to own his own bakery one day, which I’ve always known; he said he didn’t care where, but he hopes it will be in New York, London or Italy. He told me that he really wants to go to this amazing culinary and pastry school in France called Ferrandi. He explained that not only is it hard to get in, it is also very expensive for the two year program and he knows that his mum wouldn’t be able to afford it which was why he was working so hard, to save up money for his tuition.

“I really want to make my mum proud, I really want to be a renowned pastry chef, it’s my dream.” Harry set his fork down after he finished his pasta, watching me finish mine.

“Your mum would be proud of you no matter what Harry, and I KNOW you’re going to get in, I believe in you.”

“Yeah?” He looked me in the eyes from across the table.

“Yeah.” I set my fork down.

Harry reached across the table and held my hand, “I want you to be proud of me too.”

“I already am.” My eyes locked with his.

“No, seriously… I know you’re going to be this amazing doctor one day… and you’re going to discover the cure to cancer or something, so you know, I have to make sure my pastries are the best in the world, gotta keep up with you.” He beamed.

“Oh shut up.” I rolled my eyes.

Harry cleared the pasta plates and then he came out with a plate of assorted desserts.

“Harry… you’re going to make me fat.” I shook my head.

“That’s quite alright, I’ll still love you.” He grinned.

Love? Did he just say he loves me?

I brushed it off and grabbed a powered sugar covered brownie cube and took a bite.

“I think… I’m in heaven.” I moaned as the chocolate dissolved in my mouth, it was the best brownie I’ve ever had. Total perfection.

- - - - -

February 2019: Manhattan, New York

Your POV

Saturday, I was off work and grabbing a cup of coffee with Eleanor and Sophia as we caught up for the week.

“What are your plans for the day?” Eleanor asked as we sat down at a table at Starbucks.

“I think I’m going to swing by Luhring Augstine art gallery…” I sipped on my iced latte.

I was curious to see what pieces they had this year at Luhring Augustine and it didn’t hurt that the hot curator owed me a lunch.

“What…? Alone? But we usually check out art galleries together on girl’s night!” Sophia frowned.

“Well the curator slash manager there owes me lunch and he told me to stop by today…” I smiled, knowing that this was the first time in all the years that we’ve been friends, that I have brought up a guy. They tried setting me up before but it never worked out; this time I was the one to bring up a guy for myself.

“HE?! WHAT?!” Eleanor and Sophia stared at me with their jaws dropped.

I quickly explained what happened and then pulled out Zayn’s business card for them to see.

“Oh my god! What does he look like? Is he cute?” Eleanor squealed.

“Mmmm… he’s more than cute, he’s gorgeous.” I blushed recalling his dark hair and light brown eyes and incredible smile.

“I am so excited for you! You have to call after and tell us everything bitch!” Sophia lightly hit my arm.

“Of course, of course…” I nodded.

Around 2pm I walked in the front doors of Luhring Augustine and made my way around the gallery, gazing at each piece. I was pretty amazed by the collection and was considering buying a piece that caught my attention, but I didn’t recognize the artist’s signature.

“Interesting piece isn’t it?” I heard a familiar deep British accent from over my shoulders and turned my head to see him walk up next to me.

“Hi, I’m really glad you came.” He smiled at me, making me blush.

“Hi… and yes, I really love it, is it for sale?” I turned back to the piece. It was colorful, exciting, it broke boundaries and I felt like the artist was trying to send a message that life is about coloring outside the lines and breaking down barriers.

“You want to buy it?” He sounded surprised.

“Yeah… why is it in the back of the gallery? This should definitely be in the front.” I turned my body towards him.

“If you want it, I can just give it to you, on the house.” Zayn said as he held out his hand, leading me towards the door.

“No way! I can’t accept that- why- why would you? What would the artist say?”

“Well you’re looking at him and I say, that I would like you to have it.” He flashed me a smile as he held open the door.

“You painted that? You’re an artist as well?!” Wow, I was definitely impressed.

“Yeah! Well I’m not good, but since I’m the manager of this gallery, I hang one of my own every once in a while to see how it gets received.” He walked along side me, matching my pace.

“Oh… well, okay then accept a donation at least, I can’t just take the piece.”

“A donation? That’s very generous of you. I think my boss would be very happy with that.” He chuckled.

Zayn lead me to a nice cafe and asked for a booth. After we both ordered something to eat and drink, he began asking me questions, trying to get to know me.

“So Y/N… tell me, what it is that you do? Well actually can I try to guess?” He licked his lips after he took a sip of his cappuccino. 

I let out a little laugh, “Sure, you can guess.”

“Well you were in a business outfit the other day, but today… you’re in a dress. Which you look absolutely stunning if I might add…” His words made me blush.

“An accountant?”

I let out a little laugh, “No, definitely not, too boring.”

“Agreed… hrmm… a lawyer?”

“What? Lawyer?” I was a bit shocked.

“Okay, I’m terrible at this guessing, I don’t know why I even wanted to try.” He covered half his face in embarrassment.

“No, you’re amusing me!” I flashed him a grin.

“Well I give up.” He shrugged.

“I’m an oncologist. I specialize in pediatrics if you want me to be more specific.” I thanked the waitress for bringing out our food.

“You’re a doctor? No way! I would’ve never guessed that.” He took a sip of his cappuccino and grabbed his silverware.

I just smiled, not really sure how to respond.

During the entire meal, Zayn and I just got to know each other and we asked questions about each other’s jobs. It was interesting since it was two complete different worlds, but we did share a love for art and music.

After Zayn paid for lunch, we both walked back to the gallery together discussing our favorite painters and their works.

“Would it be too forward if I asked you out on a date?” He tilted his head and looked at me as we stood outside his gallery.

“What?” I was surprised. I didn’t think he would be interested in me.

“I had fun today, talking to you and getting to know you. You seem like an amazing woman and I would really like to see you again.” He pulled his bottom lip in between his teeth.

I looked up into his eyes, unsure of what I should say. I have only had one boyfriend in my entire life and that was almost 9 years ago. I didn’t know how to do this dating thing as an adult even though Eleanor and Sophia constantly tried to set me up on blind dates.

I guess I took to long to answer and Zayn panicked, “I mean if you don’t want too then I unde-”

“No, I mean, yes, I would like to see you again too.” I blushed, “I’m sorry, I just don’t asked out often and I was just a bit shocked.”

“You don’t get asked out often?” Now he was shocked.

I just shook my head and looked down at the sidewalk.

Zayn’s finger gently lifted up my chin,“You’re absolutely gorgeous, I don’t believe you.” He grinned.

“Well thank you, but it’s true, yet I never minded, I work a lot and well I’m always with my friends…” 

“I see, well you have my number, so whenever you’re free just call me. Also text me your address, I’ll have the painting you want delivered to you.” Zayn said as he hailed a cab for me.

As a taxi pulled up, I thank Zayn again for lunch and for the painting.

“No, it was my pleasure and I definitely owed you.” He smiled as he opened the door for me.

I don’t know what possessed me to do it but I quickly raised myself up on my tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek before I climbed in the cab.

Zayn was caught off guard but I saw him blushed after he closed the door and waved.

After that, Zayn and I casually dated for a few months; we were only able to see each other on the weekends when we weren’t busy. We took each other to concerts, live music performances, broadway shows, comedy shows, art shows and museums. I had a love for food and wine, so I showed him a lot of great places to eat in New York and took him to a few of my favorite bars.

He completely stole my heart one night during our fourth month of dating. After an art function at the gallery he worked for, he brought me back to his apartment and showed me his studio filled with his art work. He was an amazing artist and I was shocked that he was so shy about his work because I thought they were just brilliant. 

That night was the first time Zayn and I were intimate with each other and we’ve been together ever since. The morning after as we laid in bed, wrapped in each other’s arms and as I traced his tattoos, which I loved to do, he just asked me to be his girlfriend and I said yes. 

Zayn’s idea of romance wasn’t the typical things you see in movies like flowers, dinner, chocolates, candles; no, he would draw me all the time and randomly, like when I’m laying in bed reading or he would bring me a cup of coffee when he knows I’m having a tough day at work or send me encouraging quotes or send me links to songs that remind him of me or describes how he feels about me. Zayn loved to do the small things to show how he felt and I loved it. Zayn brought out this whole other side of me and he made me feel like anything was possible when we were together.

- - - - -

December 2016: Boston, Massachusetts

Eleanor’s POV

It was 2am on a Friday night.

Y/N and I were trying our best to stay awake during our night clinicals at the hospital. Tonight we were assigned in the ER and we had both just drank a gallon of coffee.

“Y/N…” I pushed her as we both walked into the ER after getting a call about two drunk patients.

“Yes?” She hummed as she grabbed two patient charts and handed me one.

“I’m so tired…” I whined.

“I know, but we have five more hours, suck it up El.”

I pouted as I flipped opened the patient’s chart and shook my head.

Y/N and I just started being friends not to long ago. She was my closest friend in medical school and we hit it off when we realized we both wanted to specialize in Oncology. We had met at clinicals a few months ago during the beginning of our third year of medical school. She’s absolutely brilliant. She was younger than me, having graduated high school early and immediately started college after, but she’s one of the sweetest people I know.

I heard some guy shouting and slurring with a strange British accent behind one of the closed curtains and rolled my eyes. The patient in the curtain next to him had a thick Irish accent and told him to “pipe down because his head hurts.”

Y/N took the patient behind the left curtain who seemed to be more quiet and winked before she closed it. Which left me with the loud shouting patient behind the right curtain. I’m going to kill her later.

I wrapped my fingers around the edge of the curtain and pulled it back swiftly not looking up and then closed it as I read his chart, “Hi, my name is Eleanor, I’ll be taking your vitals this evening.”

“Well helllooooo! I’m- I’m,” He hiccuped, “Louis. Are you British too?”

I finally looked up. His eyes were as blue as the ocean and for a second I stopped breathing. This man, Louis, had some scruff growing, his hair was a mess, and he looked drunk as hell. He was also in a business suit that I know cost as much as three months of my rent. Despite the fact that he was a drunk mess, he was very good looking.

“Can you take off your blazer please? I need to take your blood pressure.” I grabbed the blood pressure cuff and put my stethoscope in my ears.

“Wow I haven’t even taken you on a date and already you’re trying to undress me? Cheeky, cheeky.” He slurred as the fumbled with the buttons.

Remain calm Eleanor, this idiot is just drunk. Remain, calm.

After I took his blood pressure, I took my pen light from my pocket and quickly examined his eyes as he whined about the bright light then scribbled a few notes.

“How much have you had to drink tonight?” I asked, being able to smell the whiskey off his breath.

“One too many.” He continued to slur.

“I can see that… It says here that you and your friend were in a car accident, drunk driving I presume?” I tried hard not to sound presumptuous, but I was really against it.

“Actually we weren’t driving! Our cab was hit by a drunk driver and I hit my head on the window.”

“Oh I’m- I’m sorry.” I bit my bottom lip, “What’s your full name?”

I should make sure he doesn’t have a concussion.

“Louis William Tomlinson, I’m originally from Doncaster. How about you?”

“I don’t think that’s important, what day-”

“Hey that’s not fair! You asked for mine and I answered!” He cocked his head.

I rolled my eyes, now this man is getting on my nerves, “Eleanor Calder. Manchester. Do you know what day it is?”

“Pretty name! It’s Friday, well now it’s technically Saturday.” He shrugged as he looked at his rolex.

I recorded his blood pressure, heart rate and breathing rate, “When’s your birthday?”

I looked up to see his eyes were locked on mine, “Christmas Eve, ‘91.”

I quickly looked down at my clipboard, “Okay well I’m going to get the doctor to finish examining you… don’t think you have a concussion. You’ll be bit sore from the accident.” I bit the edge of my pen after I finished scribbling, “I’m sure you just need a banana bag to help you sober up, then you can go home and get some rest.”

“You’re not my doctor? That’s too bad…” He pouted.

“I’m still a student.” I signed off on his chart then turned around to leave.

“Feel free to practice on me!” He shouted through the curtain.

What a cheeky man, but that aside he was pretty damn cute. I can’t believe his eyes kind of made me melt. Oh well, probably won’t ever see him again.

The next evening, at 7pm, Y/N and I stepped on the floor for another 12 hour round of clinicals in the ER.

As I was getting ready to start rounds with our lead doctor, I heard that same Doncaster accent from behind me, “Eleanor?”

I turned around to see Louis, now cleaned up, his hair slicked back, his face shaved, he was dressed in an all black suit with roses in his hand.

“What… what are you doing back here?” I glanced at Y/N who had her hand over her mouth, watching the both of us, with wide eyes.

“Well the thing is,” He took a step towards me, “The hospital called me asking how I was feeling and the only thing I could remember was the pretty medical student that checked my vitals.”

“I-um-okay? Are you feeling better?” I didn’t know what else to say! He looked pretty damn good though.

“Much better, I don’t think I properly thanked you for taking care of me yesterday,” Louis handed me the roses, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome….” I nervous took the roses out of his hand.

“Now I hope you’ll let me repay you by taking you out to dinner tomorrow night.” He put his hands in his pocket and smiled at me.

“I- I umm…” I stammered as I looked down at the roses. Should I say yes? I don’t even know him.

“She would love too.” Y/N came up from behind me and handed him a piece of paper, “Here’s her number.”

I am going to really kill her this time.

“Well thank you,” He gently took the piece of paper out of her hand, “I’ll call you tomorrow Eleanor.”

With that he waved then turned around and walked out of the sliding doors of the ER.

“What… the hell did you do that for?!” I turned to hit Y/N who was trying to contain her laughter.

“Because! He’s cute! You even told me the other day you don’t remember the last time you went out on a date, well there you go!”

“What if he turns out to be a maniac?”

“He isn’t.” Dr. Wilson, the doctor that we have been learning from came up from behind us, chuckling.

“How do you know?” I looked down at the roses in my hand, they were beautiful.

“Louis Tomlinson of the Tomlinson Family? His family invests in hospitals all across the United States. He likes to party and drink BUT he’s got a good head on his shoulders.” He hummed as he handed us charts.

One date.

On my date with Louis, I found out that he was 25 years old, 2 years older than me. He graduated with a Bachelor’s in the UK in International Business and then moved to the States for his Masters. He was funny, charming, sarcastic and very smart. He also spoke French, Spanish and was currently learning Japanese; we actually had an entire conversation in French: I was very impressed. He even made me blush a few times trying to flirt.

But the thing is, he was always back and forth from Boston, Chicago and New York for business. I didn’t really know if I could handle the distance.

He convinced me to go out on a second date… then third. We went out on a few more dates for a few weeks but I wasn’t sure if it was going to work out. I did like him, I started to even get use to his texts and calls. But I told him I didn’t want to be in a relationship while I was in medical school, but he was so persistent. He continued to pursue me, and when he was out of town, he always made sure to let me know I was on his mind.

I finally gave into him after 8 months and “officially” became his girlfriend at the start of my 4th year of medical school. Louis and Y/N even became really close, which I absolutely loved. When Y/N and I graduated in 2018, we both were offered positions at New York Presbyterian/Weill Cornell Medical Center and we immediately took it. Louis was happy to follow me and move to New York with me since his family was also invested in that hospital.

A year later, the hospital offered Y/N and I the head position of the Pediatrics ward of Oncology, which I’m sure had everything to do with Louis. We tried to turn it down but he wouldn’t let us. We knew it had pissed off a lot of the other doctors that had seniority over us, but hey, if that meant I got to work side by side with my best friend and do what I love and I get a huge pay raise? I’m not going to complain.

- - - - -

May 2020: New York City (Present Day)

Your POV

Sophia said she didn’t want her engagement to be longer than a few months and that she only wanted a small wedding with both of their immediate families and close friends.

Sophia’s family still lived in England and so did Liam’s so they didn’t have anyone to help them plan their wedding, so of course all of us told her we would help her since Liam had to travel a lot for work and would try to be there for as much as he could during the planning, but you never know when an athlete was going to be injured.

One afternoon, that we all were finally all off of work, we mulled over wedding plans at Sophia’s condo.

“Have you found a photographer?” Katherine asked as she sipped on her wine.

“Well Liam wants Andy to do it, which I’m kind of worried about since he mainly does professional sports… so I don’t know. I’m willing to compromise only if Andy proves to me that he can capture romance.” Sophia hummed.

“What about a cater?” I asked,  “You know I know a lot of great chefs.” 

“I do want gourmet dishes, so the chef has to be spectacular. Both of our families are going to be there and I don’t want them complaining about the food.” Sophia sighed.

I wrote down a short lists of chefs that I personally knew had five-star restaurants or have won cooking competitions and handed it to Sophia, “Just let them know that I referred you and they’ll gladly help.”

“Oh my god! Please tell me you haven’t found someone to make your cake because I know the PERFECT place for you to get it!” Eleanor squealed.

“Calm down Eleanor, geez!” I shook my head and took a sip of my wine as Sophia chuckled.

“Where El?” Sophia looked up from her planner.

“Oh. My. God. You guys have no idea how amazing the cupcakes from this place is~ they are so addicting and I know the baker makes wedding cakes because I saw pictures of a few that he’s made during his interview with Food Network a few weeks ago. His bakery just opened a couple months ago and it’s now one of the best in New York!” Eleanor clapped.

“Oooh yeah! I heard of that bakery, I’ve had one! Charles brought a box of cupcakes for the office and everyone was talking about them the other week!” Katherine nodded her head,  “Remember Soph?”

“Yeah I didn’t get one though… So how do you know he’ll be willing to make my cake if he’s that busy El?” Sophia raised her eyebrow.

“Louis! Louis knows his best friend from grad school! He helped the owner of the shop build his bakery or whatever. An investment is what Louis explained, which was the right call because now that bakery is world-renowned, within two months! But anyways, I’m sure he can set you and Liam up with an appointment with the baker!” Eleanor was getting even more jumpy which was giving me a headache.

“You’re really excited El… Are these cupcakes that good?” I scratched the side of my head.

“Oh my god! You still haven’t had one?!” Eleanor gaped at me and then quickly stood up.

“Up! Up! Everyone up! We are going there right now!” She yanked on my arm and Sophia’s.

“Alright! Alright!” I groaned as I finished my wine.

“I’m excited! I had one last week and I had to physically force myself not to eat another.” Katherine blew air out of her mouth.

“What’s this place called again?” Sophia grabbed her planner and put it in her purse.

“’His & Hers Bakery.’” Eleanor answered as we all walked out the door.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - 

Sorry that it took so long for me to update guys! Hope you enjoyed the chapter!

Please let me know what you think of this series so far!

<3 M

A Flower of No Other Name

Kiki’s 200 Follower Celebration Word Challenge

Word Prompt: Plumeria from @casnme

Pairing: Cas x Reader

Word Count: 1054

Warnings: Fluff, tad bit of angst at the end

A/N: This isn’t really drabble length, but I hope ya’ll enjoy it. xoxo

Word Challenge Masterlist


You awoke to the barely audible whirs, beeps, and clicks of machines. Groggily forcing your eyelids to flutter open, you groaned when you were welcomed with the sight of stark white ceiling tiles, knowing all too well just exactly where you were laying.

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A Letter From A Not So Stranger | Ch. 18

AU:Karma Ashcroft has everything. She’s popular, never misses a party, and is always up to date with fashion thanks to her friend Shane. She’s a straight A student and has a perfect attendance record. She’s head of the cheerleaders with her co-captain and best friend Lauren. Her life seems perfect, other than Lauren’s who has to cope with her stepsister Amy. She is the school’s troublemaker with her best friend Liam. One day Karma receives a mysterious love letter from someone who knows a bit too much about her life.

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Christmas Eve - Requested (Luke)

HELLO, so this is yeaterdays Christmas imagine number NINE, requested by Anon (Can you do an imagine where your preganant with Luke and you give birth and you go into Labor on Christmas Eve but you cant go the hospital cause of bad weather?) ENJOY!!!!

‘All I want for Christmas is youuuuuuuu, baby’ you shake your head as you listen to Luke singing 'All I Want For Christmas’ in the kitchen while you lounge of the sofa reading your book.

'Baby I got you more castor oil’ Luke sings as he coming into the warm living room with a mug in his hands, you pull a disputed face and you push yourself up in the sofa a little. 'Don’t give me that look, you’re the one wanting to get our baby out into the big bad world’ he teases as you take the mug and he kneels next to the couch watching as you cringe drinking the oil. 'You try carrying it around for nine months only for the little shit to refuse to come out, I’m a week and a half over Luke, it’s fucking agonising’ you whine making he chuckle a little.

'I love you’ he winks pecking your cheek and taking the empty mug from you. 'You better because it’s all your fault’ you tease with an innocent smile. 'Yeah, yeah, I know’ he rolls his eyes as he walks backwards towards the door. 'BABY I WAS THINKING WE COULD READ A NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS TO HIM’ Luke yells through to you from the kitchen.

'Yeah sounds good’ you agree not sounding as loud. 'I have a feel he is coming today’ you call back 'he has too, I need him to come today’ you tell Luke from the other room. He pops his head through the door a smile filling his face. 'Maybe he will be born at midnight and we can call him Jesus’ he winks making you laugh. 'All hale we birthed the next savour of the words’ he calls loudly through the house making you laugh harder.

'Ohhhh imagine if he’s ginger, I’ve always wanted a ginger baby’ you cheer excited, Luke fries a little but still wears a cheerful smile as he sits back on the floor in front of you. 'I’ll be very worried if he is ginger’ he pouts playfully and you wink. 'Your touring a lot baby, you never know’ you tease making him glare a little but you both know it’s all in jest. 'Remind me again why I love you?’ He asks and you wink 'Remind me again how I got in this situation?’ You hit back looking down at your huge belly. Luke lets out a deep chuckles as he jumps back up heading out of the room, you hear him jogging up the stairs. You push yourself up and climb the stairs entering the nursery room to see Luke looking puzzlers as he looks through the babies’ full book shelve.

You head up behind him, moving on your side slightly so your able to reach up and press your lips to his neck, 'Lukey’ you whine softly in his ear and you hear him sigh. 'No, no don’t do that’ he grumbles stepping away from you and you try not to laugh. 'Please Luke I need you’ you try again, this time running your fingers through the back of his hair but he steps away again. You move in front of him and press your lips to his; he doesn’t kiss back for a moment but soon gives up when you squeeze his bicep. You use your other hand letting it travel down his chest to the top if his jeans, you play with them for a second before popping the button and slowly taking down the zip but your hands are pushed away before they get the chance to go any further. 'No, stop, baby please stop’ Luke moans, and you can tell he is fighting himself, so you leave your fingers playing with the hem of his boxers as you talk to him.

'Luke come in the doctor said it was fine, he fucking advised us on it, he said it will help move things along, please baby’ you whine but he shakes his head. 'Ni, no, it’s wrong, it’s weird’ he argues and you huff 'wow thanks babe, I’m carrying your son to only be rejected now. Nothing is going right he was meant I be her for our perfect fucking Christmas and now, now even my shit head boyfriend is turning down sex, Its Christmas god damn eve Luke, I can’t even get my own boyfriend to fuck me’ you whine, your eyes lock with his deep blue ones, you can see the lust and love but right now you just want the lust. Then he starts to laugh 'I can’t have sex with you when you’re pregnant, it’s wrong, like I’m having sex with the baby’ he whines pulling a face and you cringe 'that’s fucking discussing, it’s nothing like that’ you whine.

'Would we have sex if he was in our bed?’ He asks raising an eyebrow and you shrug 'If we were this fucking horny then yes’ you argue knowing that is bull shit and he laughs making you roll your eyes 'Fine no, okay no we wouldn’t but this is different this is for him, and me, make me feel good before I have to push him out’ you flutter your eye lashes, and see him sigh a little. His shoulder relaxing and you know he is starting to come around. You lean in closer pressing your lips to his jaw, traveling up to his lips, as soon as they touch is it full of lust and longing from you both. And you let your hand slide under the thin material of his boxers.

'Fuck’ you scream pushing away from Luke, he frowns as he hold out his arms for your to seedy yourself on, 'baby are you okay?’ He asks and you nod a little 'FUCK!! No, no I’m not, fuck’ you scream again and then your legs before warm and wet, you try to look past your belly but it wasn’t happening so you look to Luke instead to see his eyes wide. 'Your waters broke, he’s coming’ his eyes tear up as he looks back to you.

'Perfect ducking timing’ you growl through another contraction and Luke laughs a little. 'Okay, okay let’s get going’ he nods to himself as though to reassure himself he is doing the right thing. You nod as well as Luke walks backwards letting your grip his arms to get back down the stairs stopping every couple if steps to scream or breath, when you finally reach the front door Luke picks up the baby bag that had been waiting at the door for a months and we opens the front door to see everywhere is covers in a couple of inches of snow. 'Fuck, I need to clear the drive, you can hold it right, just a little longer’ he erasures got as he steadies you in the side table next to the door, he drops the bag and rushes out to the car.

'FUCK! LUKE, I don’t think we have enough time’ you scream, and out see him nodding furiously 'I don’t think I can get the car out’ he is starting to panic, he takes a moment before rushing back to you and heading to the living room with you in his arms. He helps you to sit in the edge if the sofa and through trying to get comfortable you slide off softly so you’re in the floor, then you shuffle around a little until your nearly in the middle of the room, you start to point to your back, unable to speak through the heavy breathing, but Luke understands as he starts to prop you up with pillows. But then he stops and stares blank as you scream again and again and again.

'GET ESTA!’ You scream through another pain, he seems to let the words sink in before nodding quickly and running out without a word.

Its only moment later Luke come rushing in with Esta the lady from next door, and her husband George following. Everything starts to get a little blurry from the pain cursing though your body. You vaguely see her go in Luke instructions, Luke and George rushing around for things, Esta pulling on plastic gloves, somewhere along the way your leggings and pants were thrown to the side.

'Okay darling, I think it’s time to push’ she tells you, you nod through the years streaming down your face, 'George get the towel ready and the scissors, Luke hold her hand’ she orders and seconds later Luke is wrapping his fingers with yours you push and push and scream and push. And you notice Luke cringing in pain and a sort if laugh leaves your lips as you push again. Your throat becoming sore until. There is a gargling cry and you drop back your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath, relaxing after hearing the sweet sound of your babies cry. 'Well don’t darling, well done’ George congratulates you as Luke kisses your head; he cuts the cord and then takes hold of your baby.

'Here’s baby Jesus’ Luke laughs and you shake your head exhausted. He lower his arms as he sits in his knees so you can see you perfect little boy. 'Hey, come in girl one for push’ Esta reminds you and you nod, 'what! Why? We aren’t having twins we can’t’ You can hear Tyne panic in Luke’s voice and glance up go see his eyes wide looking between you and Esta, you look to Esta who has a small smile on her lips as she tries not to laugh and you do the same shaking you head towards her. Then you push, it’s so much easier this time and the placenta slides out. You see Esta wrap it in a towel and reaching hover to hand it to Luke, 'Your twin’ she teases and his face breaks into laughter along with us all.

'And we are not calling his Jesus’ you laugh 'Christmas baby, you two will have expensive Decembers’ George laughs and you smile down at your baby as Luke places him in your arms. And he kisses your head again. 'My family so perfect’ he whispers.

From Chelsea