How To Win A Boy: Fumbling Punk Edition

How To Win A Boy: Fumbling Punk Edition | Dan Howell, local punk, and his friends need a new cafe to hang out in, now that Dan has ruined starbucks for them (don’t ask). So they try out the new family business that just opened up a few days ago… and somehow Dan falls in love with the Pastel Goth kid behind the counter who just so happens to be his waiter. Why Phil seems to think disgusting smoothies are going to win Dan over, no one knows, but… well, they do. | Phan | Teen and Up | PastelxPunk | 8,359 Words

Thanks to @botanistlester for the title, and the fic inspiration, not to mention listening to me talk about this fic for the last 3 hours of writing. I apologize for any typos, but screw proofreading, I really want to post already.

Art: (Dan & Phil) (Mini Comic) (Full Comic)

(ao3 Link)

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Half-Blood Princess

Characters: Dean Winchester x Sister!Reader, Sam Winchester x Sister!Reader, Hannah (Twin Sister)

Length: 2466+ words

TW: Descriptions of Injuries. Character death. Just sadness and angst all over (I made myself cry writing this tbh)

A/N: I’m sorry (but not really sorry) for all the angst. Feedback is encouraged!

Part 1     Part 2     Part 3

Being half a Winchester usually never ended well. With Adam being in a cage- it was safe to say that if you’re not a full-blooded Winchester, your fate is very bleak. Very, very bleak. You on the other hand, never believed this. Neither did your twin sister, Hannah. When your mom died, she gave you the address of a Bobby Singer who then introduced you to your brothers- well, half brothers, Dean and Sam Winchester. They were one of the strongest men you’ve ever met in your life, and to say you weren’t a little bit intimidated was a lie.

You and Hanna were complete polar opposite. She was outgoing, and very easy to talk to; whereas, you were a bit on the shyer side, always anxious about saying the wrong things. But you got along pretty well. She understood you, and always tried to do her best to make you comfortable. Despite being quieter, it didn’t mean you were bad company. You had a lot of friends who thought you were the life of the party- well, before you moved to the other end of the country. Life with your brothers wasn’t exactly what you were expected. They bonded so well with Hannah (as expected), and you could see yourself becoming distant from them.

It wasn’t until they started training you two to hunt that you saw the clear favouritism towards your sister. You were equally as good as Hannah when it came to picking up the skills that your brothers taught you, but you were never praised. You were never given a high five, and offered to go out for your favourite treat. You were absolutely sure your brother had no malice intentions when doing these things. It was just your personality.

Dean was an extrovert through and through. You thought you could win him over through your cooking, but apparently he didn’t like anyone else working in the kitchen but him. By the time you found out his love for pie, he had already banned you from using the kitchen.

Sam was good-natured, and you were sure that you and him would get along very well. But, Sam was too excited at the prospect of a sister that he became more of an extrovert as well. He wanted to socialize, go out, and do things with his little sister.

It’s not like you hated going out or anything. You were fond of spending time with your family, but socializing drained you, and you were already quiet from the beginning. It was hard to get close to your new brothers when all they wanted to do was outgoing activities, but you did try.

You sat in when Dean was fixing his Baby or washing her, but he didn’t like the silence, so in the end he turned on his music. That’s when Hannah came in. She made a joke about his taste in music which he took full offense to, and she started asking questions about his car, and next thing you knew, he was teaching her everything about Baby- forgetting that you were even there.

With Sam it was a little easier. He was better to be around since you both were avid readers. You sometimes would read with him, but that left no room for communication, and you were left with a gap between you and your brother. There was one time where he wanted to go to the library, and you wanted to go as well, but that was until Dean piped in, and said that he wanted to go alone so he could ask the cute librarian out. Immediately, you backed out- not wanting to latch onto him when he wanted some alone time.

Cases like this kept happening, and it was harder to try. Too much time has passed, and you got nowhere closer to your brother than when you first met.

Then, there was the day that changed everything.

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If the American pie bar is news to you, you’re not alone. Emily Elsen says she didn’t realize she was one of the original trendsetters when, seven years ago, she and her sister Melissa opened their first Four & Twenty Blackbirds in Brooklyn. Even earlier this year, when the Elsen sisters opened their fifth location — a 10-stool bar where you can chase a slice with wine or beer — Emily says she had yet to realize the extent of this sweet and widening outbreak.

“Having been in the business and written a cookbook, we’ve seen people [including Ms. Glennon] start their own business,” Elsen says. “But I’m surprised to find out there are as many as there are.”

There’s no definitive data on just how many pie bars there are — or by how much the pie-bar world has grown. But according to the American Pie Council, which collects data on pies, total pie sales have been growing steadily — now at about $1 billion per year.

At A Time We All Need Comfort, Pie Bars Serve It By The Slice

Photos: Courtesy of Four & Twenty Blackbirds

Drive | 01

pairing: reader x Jungkook 

themes: driver!jungkook, angst, action, fluff, smut (later on) 

warnings: swearing 

summary: Jeon Jungkook is an experienced driver, but he is not just any driver; he is a getaway driver for his crime boss Min Yoongi and his crew of sociopaths. Jungkook thinks he has it all, that is until he meets the one thing he was missing; you. Jungkook is forced to make a decision that not only is threatening to him, but to everything and everyone he cares about. 

**partially based off the movie baby driver idk i was inspired 

Originally posted by jungkook-e

A black Honda Civic rolls up beside the curb slowly, jolting in the park gear.  

Jungkook’s fingers tap against the steering wheel to his own pace. He looks to his right to see his allies for the day. Behind him sits two more people. A total of four people in the car, three boys, one female, however only three of these four will be doing the task on the to-do list this evening. 

The three of them get out of the car quickly as Jungkook pops the trunk open for them. Jungkook watches as the three of them hurry across the street, pulling masks over their faces. To distract himself from what’s going on, he pops on his headphones and begins to listen to his music playlist very loudly. 

Jungkook taps his fingers and rocks his head together with the music, humming to himself. A minute or so passes until through his headphones, in the distance, he hears police sirens coming. 

He immediately looks over to the large building to find them still in there and Jungkook’s heart starts to race, however he finds it in himself to calm down. The loud alarms in the bank are now going off and finally, after it seems like too long, the three suspects come running out of the building. 

Jungkook cracks his knuckles against the steering wheel, revving up the sports car as the three of them hurry into the car. 

The man up front gives Jungkook the signal and Jungkook puts the car into gear before reversing and doing a spin around before he takes off hitting 60 miles per hour before they can even blink. 

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Imagine getting back together with Chris.

A/N: I LIVE! 😂 Okay, so my sluggish internet is making tagging an arduous process which is why I may be desolving the taglist for a little while. If you’d like to continue getting updates, turn on my notifications. If not then 🤷🏻‍♀️ 

Chris paced his hotel room from window pane to window pane, gnawing nervously on his thumbnail. His gaze darted to the keycard tightly clenched in his right hand; it unlocked the room three doors down where you laid restlessly on your identical king size bed. It had been a tediously long day for the two of you; the maid of honor and the best man of a wedding with four hundred guests. One might’ve thought the tedious part was the wedding duties you’d been bestowed, but it was actually having to do them with the one you’d recently ended a six year relationship with. It was exactly as you’d expected having to complete ridiculously romantic tasks with someone you’d thought you’d spend the rest of your life with; doleful and utterly gut wrenching.

That was the idea you and Chris had, you’d planned to grow old together in a beautiful house somewhere in Boston where you were both born and raised. It was meant to be easy, he’d promised you easy, and it was easy. Since the beginning, things with him had been effortless. There was no need to try or change because neither felt like the other was short of perfection. The whole relationship had been perfect, then he dawned the role of Captain America and everything changed. In a matter of days, you lost him to his perpetually demanding job. You were proud of him and you did everything to make it work, but it just became too much. His fans, the paparazzi, his constant absence- it overwhelmed you. You would’ve sold your soul to the devil himself if it meant sparing Chris’ life, but that kind of love didn’t change your inability to handle the fame that came with his abundant success.

The breakup was a tragedy the two of you were still trying to heal from. It’d only been six months and it wasn’t like you could take time out to purge the relationship from your systems due to the wedding. Your best friend was getting to married to his best friend, it was hard not to associate with him when he was the best man. Every decision you made with the bride, you had to check in with him and the groom. It helped that his job kept him in South Africa for as long as it did; you managed to get through four months of planning without having to see him face-to-face. It didn’t make things easier, but it helped.

The day of the wedding filled both you and Chris with indescribable amounts of dread. Your heart would start pounding against your chest whenever you heard his name, and his stomach would flip every time he heard yours. There was a common understanding between the two of you that you’d eventually run into each other, but as long as you could avoid it- you tried. You even had it down to a math, counting the seconds so you’d just miss each other. But you couldn’t do that when it came time to walk down the aisle. Your best friend was kind enough to make sure the groomsmen waited by the alter with the groom rather than walk down the aisle with their appointed bridesmaid. There was no way you would’ve made it down the aisle without your heart combusting if you had to walk down holding Chris’ arm.

Chris ran his hand over his beard and groaned loudly in frustration as he kicked the edge of his bed with his barefoot. “Fuck!” He cussed, hobbling around in a circle. The pain that accompanied a toe stub was sometimes blinding, but nothing compared to the pain of seeing the love of your life and knowing you didn’t have a future with them. Chris’ eyes filled with tears as he sat on the edge of his bed. A chuckle escaped him and he managed a wistful smile when he thought about how beautiful you looked in your blush pink gown. He wished he’d spoken to you instead of actively avoiding you. He thought it would’ve been easier on both of you, but he realized after he arrived back in his room that he’d made another huge mistake; the first being letting you go. He had to see you, even if he couldn’t be with you- he had to see you. He rose to his feet and left his room, quietly padding down the corridor to yours.

Outside your door, he paced again with great apprehension. The lights seeping out from under your door told him you were still awake, but he was worried you wouldn’t open up after seeing it was him through the peephole. The last time you’d exchanged actual words unrelated to the wedding was your breakup. You’d told him you loved him before you left with your bags, leaving literally nothing for him to remember you by. You’d wanted a clean breakup because you were familiar with how the two of you worked. You needed to take everything including your shadow because if you’d looked back, you would’ve never left.

You propped yourself up on your elbows when you heard a soft knock on your door. You didn’t need the peephole to know it was Chris on the other side, your heart could tell. The closer you got to the door, the harder your heart started to pound. It was like it never stopped from when you saw him at the wedding, just slowed momentarily. You placed a hand on your chest and closed your eyes, taking a slow, deep breath. You knew it was a bad idea. You wished you had to ability to turn around and climb into bed, but not when the guy was Chris; he left you weak-kneed and nonsensical. “Get it together,” you whispered to yourself then opened your door.

“Uh- h-hey,” Chris stuttered, shocked you’d opened the door. “Sorry, were you-” He didn’t even need to finish his sentence because you knew what he was going to say and had shaken your head as an answer. “I was just- um- I- uh-” He swallowed, wishing he’d practiced what he was going to say to you before he came over. “Do you want to grab a drink?”

If your brain was operative, you would have declined and told him to go to bed. But it wasn’t because it’d been six months and you still missed him dearly. Every morning you’d wake up alone in your bed in your deafeningly quiet apartment; no Chris, no Dodger, and you hated it. You’d cry in the shower and wished for the capacity to endure what his lifestyle meant for yours so you could be with him again. No, it wasn’t a good idea for you to grab a drink with him. You were vulnerable enough without the influence of alcohol, you needed to close the door and go to sleep. You knew all that, yet you responded with “I’d love to.”

At 3:23AM, even the twenty-four hour hotel bar was empty. The environment consisted of four people: you, Chris, the tired bartender, and a dedicated musician. Soft nameless melodies floated from the grand piano to the bar where the two of you sat in silence, staring uncomfortably at your untouched glasses. Chris ordered you a moscato because your favorite drink had been seared into his mind, and for himself he kept it simple with a scotch. His lips curled into a small smile when he heard you quietly humming along to the pianist rendition of Pachelbel’s Canon. Your appreciation for all kind of music from country to classic was something he admired.

“How are you?”

You were slightly taken aback when he started a conversation, you were sure the night was going to be spent in silence. “I’m okay,” you nodded then took a sip of your wine. He nodded as a response, taking a sip of his scotch. “How are you?” You turned to him and asked, darting your gaze away when he met it.

“I’m okay,” he responded similarly.

Another silent minute that felt more like a hour ticked by before one of you spoke again. This time it was you who initiated the conversation, though confrontation seemed more appropriate. “Chris,” you worked up the courage to meet and keep his gaze. Your heart wrenched at his wistful smile and you asked, “what are we doing?”

“I don’t know,” he whispered with a shake of his head. “I just know the past six months have been hell without you.” It was instantaneous; both your eyes filled with tears. “I miss you, baby.” He disclosed with a broken voice. “I don’t know how to do this, Y/N. I had a plan- you were my plan. I thought- I shouldn’t have let you go, it was-” He shook his head vigorously as he cried, reaching a hand forward to cup your face. “I am so sorry, I told you it’d be easy.”

“And I told you I’d stand by you,” you sniffled. “I am sorry I walked away, I thought I could handle it but- it was so hard, Chris,” you admitted, starting to sob. He rose to his feet and wrapped you in his arms; you buried your face in his chest. “I miss you so much, I miss Dodger, I miss our home and- I just don’t want to be without you anymore.” Chris’ arms tightened around you and he pressed a kiss on the top of your head. “I don’t want easy, I want you.” The smile he had on his face was genuine for the first time in six months. “I just want you.”

Chris drew back, smiling at you as he took your face in his hands. “I want you too,” he whispered as he dipped his head. His lips touched yours, healing the cracks on your heart that appeared six months ago. Your hands slipped into his soft hair as you kissed him back, moaning softly into his mouth. “I love you,” he repeatedly whispered in-between his tender kisses.

You smiled when you broke the kiss, running the pad of your thumb along his swollen lips. One of your hand that had remained on the back of his neck drew him forward. Your lips brushed his earlobe, making him shudder when you whispered, “so take me back to my room and show me how much.”

Tags: @chrisevans-imagines @widowsfics @m-a-t-91 @imaginesofdreams  @katiew1973 @winter-tospring @shamvictoria11 @soymikael @always-an-evans-addict @yourtropegirl @smoothdogsgirl @createdbytinyaddiction @dreamingintheimpalawithdean @rileyloves5 @buckys-shield @tabi-toast @ssweet-empowerment @chrixa @feelmyroarrrr @akidura79 @castellandiangelo @edward-lover18 @yourenotrogers @im-a-fandom-slut @royalexperiment256 @palaiasaurus64 @badassbaker @pegasusdragontiger @sfreeborn @dorisagent101 @aekr @imagine-cats96 @adeptkillsyasse @shliic @justanotherfangurlz @camerica96 @lilya-petrichor @pinkleopardss @bywonater @avengingalec @nerdingoutismylife @captainxamerica @lapetitsyrene @01asianista @alwayshave-faith @southernbellestatues @thegirlwiththeimpala @callie-swagg1 @what-if-wenevermet @hillrichhill @patzammit @gerrardisgod @stevcsass @sebstanchrisevanchickforever19 @steveschuyler78

Surfer Boy (Grayson x Reader)

Summary: Requested by anon: “can you do an imagine based on ethans tweet “@ethandolan: Haha gray just texted and was like yo my face is so red I just saw a cute girl what do I do” 😌”
Word Count: 1,337
Warnings: None.
A/N: This is cute :’) Thank you for requesting, my dear anon. Hope you like it. xx

“People have a weird tendency of not cleaning up after themselves.” Your friend, and also your boss, pointed out as she carried in four glasses behind the bar, placing them by the counter so she could wash them.

You laughed, watching her pull a face before returning to wring out a dishrag. Your friend had always been an impulsive one, so it didn’t even surprise you when she had come home one day, claiming that she bought the small tiki bar on the beach, not far from where you lived.

It had turned out to be a smashing hit, everybody buying their cool drinks and their occasional cocktail to clench their thirst. You being the good, bored friend you were, you had offered yourself to work behind the bar. It wasn’t all too bad, you got plenty of Vitamin D, got drinks for free and got to watch a lot of hot guys who went to catch a wave or sat by the bar, sipping on their drinks under the scorching L.A sun.

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Seeking Safety - Yondu Udonta x Reader - possibly NSFW

Pairing: Yondu Udonta x Reader

Word count: ~2,300

Summary: a lovely request I got from @rhyatt-deauxtreve  . They asked for a fic in which Reader is faced with having a stalker and turns to Yondu and his crew for help by asking him if she can pretend she’s with him for an evening. (I reworded your request for this summary as to not give too much away, ;)) Hopefully I got the request right - I wrote this fueled by my hated of fuckboys and men who don’t understand what no means.

Warnings: Language. Sexually suggestive content. Mentions of stalking and verbal sexual harassment.

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Hate To Break It To You

Pairing:  Steve Rogers x Reader

Warning:  Swearing?

A/N: Something I found in my saved files, since I’m working on a few things I figured I would post this. It’s probably crap, but enjoy it. Hahaha.

@chrisevansthedoritobastard   @holahellohialoha  @almightyunnie @imamotherfuckingstar-lord  @iwillbeinmynest @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @goodnightwife @irepeldirt  @yourtropegirl  @bellejeunefillesansmerci  @buckyb-avengers  @winterboobaer  @mrhowardstark  @rileyloves5 @ria132love

Originally posted by undercoverfandoms

“Oh please Steve, come with me.” You bat your eyes, poking out your bottom lip pleading with him. “Don’t make me go alone.” You smirk at him as he sighs shaking his head trying to not laugh at you. You’re leaning over the bench press watching Steve deadlift, your eyes travel over his biceps pausing momentarily taking in their glory and size, before breaking eye contact in hopes Steve didn’t catch you gawking.

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Falling into the wrong crowd.

Requested || Based off of #49 prompt found here

“It sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself.“

Harry Masterlist found HERE
To Enter to win tickets for Harry Styles IN Nashville TN, HERE

You have been through this phase before with him, the late nights, the dense trail of alcohol etched into his clothes, the drunken slurs, and the stumbling around the house as he attempts not to knock over one of the valuable pieces that hang around the house.

You thought the phase was over with, that he had overcome everything and was far better than how he used to be. It just seems to be history is repeating itself, again.

You sigh as you gaze over at your sleeping husband, his hair a mayhem, his scent not emanating like the delightful sensation you are used to, but instead, smells like alcohol. You can determine that last night he was in the hard liquor, you know that scent better than anyone.

You enable your finger to trace over the several tattoos on his arm, your mind trying to think of what to do with him.

He’s falling— falling into the wrong crowd, again.

You observe as he begins to leisurely wake up, his body stretching out while a few groans escape his dry and more than likely dehydrated lips. He lifts his arm to wrap around you but you gently push it away, causing him to prop himself up on his forearms, his eyes dipping to glance at you.

“Mornin’, love.” His dry voice echoes against the plasticity of the bedroom walls’, his eyes resembling nothing but bloodshot and exhaustion.

You exhale a breath, disappointed in him for the second time this week, “Morning, have a good night?” You question while pushing the heavy covers off your warm body, and swinging your legs over the edge of the bed.

He grows withdrawn for a moment, your feet hitting the raw floorboards’ a shiver radiating through your body as you stand to your feet. “What happened last night?” He falls back to the bed, resting his head back to his pillow while tucking his arm under the covers.

“Don’t know.” You shrug, reaching for a long sleeve and pulling it over your body, “You got drunk and managed to get home, that’s all I know.” You bitterly add, shaking your head to yourself, trying to work out where things went wrong again with him.

He was doing so well, he had cut off the immoral influences, he was back in the studio, for heaven’s sake, his album reached multi-platinum in the U.S this morning and he probably doesn’t even know it.

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anonymous asked:

Any thoughts on the chatter before 'Olivia' ("rest for four bars")? And the 'writing' noises on 'I want to write you a song'? Are the of any added value to you?

I do have thoughts about that, anon, really complex and conflicted thoughts.

I’m going to refer you to this brilliant Masters thesis, written by a Scott Interrante, who is the host of the popunlimited podcast.

When One Direction adds in these ambient studio sounds– the insider musician chatter in “Olivia,” the scratching of a pencil in “I Want to Write You a Song,” the fans in “History,” the purpose is to add an illusion of authenticity. The illusion gets fans closer to being in a live experience, a folk music, intimate, small venue, acoustic experience.

It is musical gesture– a way for the band to evolve away from pre-packaged, cookie-cutter boyband pop songs and closer to music they would prefer to make, closer to what they personally like to listen to. They are striving for the authenticity of making “real music,” not the typical boy band, “bland-as-fuck” (Zayn’s words) pop music.

This question of authenticity is a complex one. As consumers, we know that what we consume has a veneer of artifice. We know that voices are auto-tuned and distorted by reverb. We know that 1D songs go through a production process that transforms the raw material into the polished radio hits.

We like to listen to professionally produced music. And that’s okay.

But as Scott’s thesis argues, this question of authenticity goes to the very heart of the question of One Direction.

Selling authenticity of music is a way of selling an authentic fandom experience– the same way that @Louis_Tomlinson seems authentic when he tweets that Pizza Hut should DM him, as if this is Louis Tomlinson charmingly asking for a pizza, rather than Louis Tomlinson™ being paid to endorse Pizza Hut. The lines of authenticity are being blurred without informing the audience.

It isn’t as clear-cut as seeing a celebrity sell perfume in a magazine ad. In the same way, any fashion endorsement, interview, or brand ambassadorship through SM or pap photos strives to seem authentic. It is reflective of the huge confluence of social media and product placement in our culture. It’s the reason for Zigi.

One of the boys said in an interview once– “pressured by the modern age.” This is how modern advertisement works.

But, I mean, they’re just songs. Why get so worked up about them? Do they really have to do with all this– other stuff?

The reason it’s different for One Direction is that inauthenticity, sold as authenticity, is the badge and pride of 1DHQ. It is their modus operandi.

They hold contests to meet band members or go to special listening sessions in which the winners have already been pre-determined– and it’s rarely the casual fan without insider connections. I, and people I know, would have loved going to the London sessions. But I knew that would never have been a possibility. It’s always the people in service of 1DHQ.

This philosophy is what allows stalkers to appear as lucky fans who bump into the boys “by chance,” and allows these stalkers access to the boys time and again, often without security.

Inauthenticity as authenticity as a philosophy is extended to selling a band member’s image TO THE BAND MEMBER’S DETRIMENT. Just look at Louis Tomlinson’s representation with the James Grant Group since January 1st.

There are so many layers of inauthenticity there, that it’s both embarrassingly hilarious and inhumanely immoral.

Inauthenticity sold as authenticity is a way to double back at fans who point this out, to target and invalidate fan theories by calling them crazy, conspiratorial. By having “authentic” band member interviews (Liam Attitude interview, Zayn Fader) stating as much. By having “authentic” band members tweet angry diatribes to fans (Louis Bullshit 1.0, 2.0).

So to your question of whether these ambient noises do anything for me, I would say, yes, on the surface, they’re incredibly charming. They give off a hipster-ish vibe. I love hearing Harry’s and Louis’s voices in Olivia. The pencil scratching in IWTWYAS is a bit cheesy but ok. The fans in History are lovely.

Other musicians include ambient noises on their discography to sound authentic. At the end of Carlie Rae Jepsen’s “Let’s Get Lost,” you can hear this incredibly charming, haunting sound of a dog howling, synthesizers and percussions dying away as if the music itself is being disassembled, put away. Another example would be the weird but lovely oscilloscope sound in Wilco’s “I am trying to break your heart.”

Will there ever be a time when authenticity for 1D is, well, authentic?

It’s like a little ink seeping into water. The water can never be clear again. It can only get clearer if diluted by a lot more clear water. Honesty is a difficult thing to reclaim.

Generally I love a little fun and games in music– and actually love all sorts of ambient noises being incorporated into music. But as usual with One Direction— it gets me thinking.

He’s with Me

This is it! Part2 to “He has Someone Else” !! It can be read as a stand alone though. 

Plot: Harry cheated on his girlfriend, this is him dealing with her having left him for it.

Warnings: It made me sad. Also: It has a few smutty bits.

Pic isn’t mind sadly. It’s hot though.

I didn’t need to open my eyes to realize she was gone. Her absence was felt as clearly as the soft breeze coming in through the window. It doesn’t take a person’s sight to know and when their soulmate has left, all warmth leaves too. The skin feels so cold, goosebumps rise and breathing hurts. My eyes opened and squeezed shut against the bright light illuminating the bedroom, and I turned to rest on my back with a groan. I’d forgotten how annoying that could be in the morning, given how I hadn’t slept in this bed recently, but rather spent my nights on the couch instead. I also wished I weren’t naked. Not by any means because I regretted the sex Y/N and I had had the night before, but because I imagined a pajama would protect me against at least some of the cold.

My fingers hesitantly reached over to the side on which I’d seen Y/N sleep only a few hours ago when a nightmare had pulled me from my sleep at some point throughout the night, and a heavy feeling settled onto my heart when the mattress’s fabric didn’t even feel warm anymore. She must’ve been gone for a long while already.

I knew what this meant, it was the first thought coming to my head, but instead of accepting it, my brain did the natural and most human thing to do: it went to denial.

Y/N could have gone anywhere, I decided. It didn’t have to mean what I believed it did. Deep down I believed she was gone. Gone as in out of my life.
Maybe we’d run out of that tea she liked so much and always insisted on drinking in the morning or else the entire day was doomed, but when I thought about it, I couldn’t have said if that still was her habit at all. I hadn’t watched her drink that tea, or any tea, in a very long time.
I hissed at the cold feeling of the floor against my bare feet as I came to a rather tumbling stand, but I didn’t allow myself to gain my balance fully before quickly reaching down to the floor so I could reach for and pull up my boxers from last night. I’d change into new ones after a shower, I decided. Maybe Y/N would even join me once she was back?
I walked into the hall of our house from where I had a view into the kitchen and living room. Both were deserted.

“Y/N?” I called out regardlessly, fear cursing though my veins and paralyzing my body.

She could not have left. Nothing would ever bring her to do that, I knew it. Or didn’t I? Had I been wrong all this time that I believed to know for sure, that she’d always be waiting at home for me? Had my certainty been misplaced when I had believed she’d never abandon me, even though I had abandoned her?
She loved me. I’d seen it in her eyes whenever I’d allowed mine to find her’s for a moment, noticing how her gaze had followed my every movement. I’d felt in in every touch we’d shared the night before, how she’d clung onto me and kissed me as if I were the only thing that kept her breathing. Her love was ever present, like a comforting coat embracing me whenever I came home to her. It was a simple truth that promised me Y/N’s loyalty for always. But… hadn’t I broken that very same promise too? And wasn’t I still in love with her regardlessly?

My heart had still belonged to her when I’d given my body to someone else. And still, it’d be a lie to say I’d thought of her throughout the act. It hadn’t been her face that I pictured, but the one of the woman I was hovering over and when she whined my name I hadn’t compared it to the sound Y/N made when we had sex. For those few moments, it was almost as if Y/N had left my mind entirely and given it enough space for my thoughts to be clouded by the woman I was with and only her. It was her touch I craved in those moments and only her scent I wanted to cloud my head. Not Y/N’s.

Maybe Y/N had left to get us breakfast? She’d done that before on special occasions. Us finding each other again surely counted as such, right? Perhaps she’d gone to get some of those avocado and cream cheese bagels the cafe down the road sold, aware of how much I loved them. A smile pulled at the corner of my mouth and I turned to walk back into the bedroom. I’d change quickly and then go make smoothies for the both of us, I decided, wanting to contribute at least something. My fingers pushed the hangers to the side in search for the particular shirt I had in mind and frowned when I couldn’t find it anywhere. This was odd. I remembered distinctly how I’d hung the Styles shirt right next to the light blue one Y/N’d given me a few months back, but there was no trace of it. Actually there was no trace of the blue shirt either. A frown formed on my forehead and suddenly I noticed how there were shirts hung up, which I knew I usually kept folded in my drawers. It just kept getting stranger, because where had those spare hangers suddenly come from?
That’s when it finally sunk in. More of my cloths fit into the wardrobe, because hers weren’t there anymore.
My feet hastily carried me to the bathroom where my eyes scanned the two glasses, holding toothbrushes and toothpaste. Only that it was just one toothbrush and that was mine. Her light green one, for which I always teased her as it looked like it was made for a child, was no were to be seen. Next I searched the drawers and again, found that all of my products where lined up neatly and all of Y/N’s missing. By now hands shook so hard the bottle of my cologne almost dropped to the floor and I quickly sat it back down to the spot which Y/N’s body spray had originally occupied.

“Huh,” I hummed to myself.

My palms momentarily pressed to my cheeks and rubbed the skin and though sleep still clouded my head, I could think clearly. There was no denying that the realization of Y/N leaving me and with that ending our relationship, hurt. It had me feel a pain I found difficult to describe, showing itself with headaches and a heavy chest. Why, I couldn’t understand.
Y/N’s I realized, was stronger than I believed she was and much stronger than I thought she was. It wasn’t out of vanity that I didn’t doubt her love in me, it was a truth I knew better than my own name, yet it hadn’t kept her from leaving.
I’d believed us sleeping together the night before had meant that our souls had found to each other again. To me, it had felt as if I had been drifting for the past few months and finally she’d come to take my hand and lead me out of the dark. But now she was gone, just as if none of it had meant one bit to her.
How heartless, I thought, before a tiny voice at the back of my head piped in, reminding me how I had been selfish in the first place by being unfaithful.

But last night… it changed everything. We’d fallen in love all over again.

“Maybe it was just me,” I whispered to myself, “and she slept with me, knowing all along that she’d leave the next morning.”

I shook my head, wondering what hurt more, losing her by choice or losing her without getting a goodbye.

*Flashback to four months earlier*

The bar had been crowded enough for me to struggle whilst following Nick, who led me towards the counter where they sold drinks. It had been about time for us to catch up, I’d decided the day before and knowing Nick I knew he’d be up for us going out. So I’d left Y/N with a sweet kiss on the lips and met with my old friend at a bar.

“Here’s to a good friday night!” Nick yelled over the music as he handed me a shot while downing his own.

It was one of many shots I drank, followed by several cocktails and finally I was so drunk I couldn’t tell what it was that burned my throat.
My vision blurred and my body buzzed as I danced to the loud music, allowing myself to surrender to the heavy beat.
That was when I’d felt her. She pressed her hands to my chest from behind, forcing me to turn around and look at her. She was tall, taller than any girl I’d been with before, but I still loomed over her. A smile played on her red lips and I felt my stomach flutter when she pulled my hands forward to rest on her slim hips. Before I could comprehend what happened, the strange woman pressed herself against my body and we danced together. She could move well and I moaned whenever her lips pressed to my exposed neck, nipping and biting on the skin.
This was wrong, I thought, but her hands roaming my chest kept me from moving away. She was beautiful with full, plumb lips, a lovely face and hair redder than I’d ever seen it on anyone before.


I turned around to face Nick, who’s facial expression looked anything but amused.

“I think we should go home. You’ve had enough.”

I shook my head and groaned when the girl moved herself against me a little rougher.

“I’m good, but you can leave if you want.”

“Harry,” Nick urged, “What about Y/N?”

Y/N. The name should have brought me back to reality immediately and awakened the love I held for her. A name, that should remind me of the face I looked at first thing in the morning and to which my life mission of making it smile every day was dedicated to. Mentioning Y/N should have woken me up. But it didn’t.

“What about her?” I asked and though Nick continued to protest it didn’t take more than me snapping at him, for him to leave.

My hands moved from the woman’s hips down to cup her bum and I laughed when she hiccuped, indicating that she wasn’t much more sober than I was. In response, she clung to my body even tighter, coming so close I could feel her breathing against my neck hotly.
I couldn’t remember how we ended up in my car, but we did and after I sent the driver away, claiming we’d be fine to drive in a bit anyway, we settled into the front seats.

“Maybe I should get us an Uber,” I suggested, “One to take the both of us home.”

“We could do that,” she hummed, smiling widely, “but I have a better idea.”

Her hand moved on my thigh, circling and squeezing it before rising higher and to my crotch. I cursed and she laughed, throwing back her head. She shifted in her seat so she had better access to my body and when I looked at her pretty features and felt her fingers move over my growing hard on, the words I’d wanted to tell her disappeared from my head. I have a girlfriend. We can’t do this.
Instead, all I could focus on was the excited buzz and the lust taking over my senses until I couldn’t think straight.
My own hand reached forward and clasped her chin, bringing her close so I could connect our mouths in a heavy kiss, making it the first kiss I shared with a different woman than Y/N in over two years. The girl was quick to comply and moved her warm and full lips with mine, licking into my mouth and battling my tongue for dominance, letting me taste alcohol and smoke she must have consumed earlier. I groaned at the unfamiliarity and she moaned loudly, her hands driving me crazy as she continued to rub over me.

“Harry,” she whined into my ear before pressing kisses to my jaw, “let me help you, yeah? Let’s fix that problem you’ve got.”

Before I could say anything, she began to undo my belt while giggling against my lips. Her eyes locked with mine momentarily and a dangerous smile danced on her face, then she pressed another wet kiss to my cheek and leaned down so she could take me into her mouth. And I let her. Gladly, even, as she made me feel good. My eyes were squeezed shut as I concentrated on the pleasure I was feeling, which was easy to do as it overtook all of my senses. When I came wetly I didn’t feel guilty one bit, but rather amazed how she swallowed it all with no protest.

“Let me,” I panted and reached down to pull her up, “I wanna reciprocate.”

I hissed when she moved to sit on my softening length, sensitive from her touch and my heart throbbed heavily in my chest. Her slender arms wrapped around my neck and she leaned in close, brushing her mouth over mine.

“No need,” she whispered against my lips before kissing them lightly, “We can do that next time.”

When I got home that night, Y/N was asleep on our couch and I found myself unable to stop staring at her. I liked how her eyelashes threw small shadows onto her cheeks and smiled at how pink her soft lips looked. She hummed faintly when I traced my fingers over her delicate features and squirmed, but didn’t awaken. In that moment, for the first time since dropping off the woman, who’s name I learned was Cici, at her apartment, I felt regret. Regret, followed by raw guilt as it only now truly sink in.

“I just cheated on you,” I whispered, looking down at my beautiful girlfriend, sleeping innocently.

Oh god. What had I done? Didn’t I love that woman laying before me more than I’d ever loved anyone in my life? Hadn’t I promised her to be with her and only her? A bling, coming from my phone brought my attention back onto my device which I held tightly in my other hand.

Tonight was fun. Call me whenever you need me to help you out again. ;) Cici xxx

*Back to present time*

My head ached and I throbbed as I declined the fifth call I’d received from Cici today. I hadn’t had a problem with taking her calls in my home before, but now that Y/N had actually been chased away by my affair, it felt wrong. This house… Cici just didn’t belong here.
I jumped up when the front door opened, hope spreading through me, only for my heart to sink quickly when it wasn’t Y/N who’d come in, but her friend. Kate. Her eyes met mine only briefly before she straightened up and raised her head high.

“I’m only here to get some of Y/N’s things out of your dirty grasp,” she spoke arrogantly.

A lump formed in my throat and made it difficult for me to talk, leaving me no other choice but to silently nod. Kate glanced at me one more time before making her way to the stairs and disappearing around the corner. I was about to reach for the door to push it close when another body pushed itself through the gap. Familiar eyes met mine and an apologetic smile was offered.

“Nick?” I asked, surprised since he and Kate weren’t familiar with each other, at least as far as I knew.

“Hey man.”

He clapped me on the shoulder before walking past me so he could follow Kate upstairs. I stayed standing by the door. What the hell had just happened?

“Nick!” I called out.

“Leave us alone, Harry!”

It was Kate who called back, her head appearing from the bedroom door. Taking two stairs at a time I reached them in seconds. Kate was now standing by our bed, roaming though Y/N’s nightstand and I watched her with confusion as I struggled to comprehend what was going on.

“Kate,” I mumbled and reached out a hand to her, “stop.”

My voice didn’t sound like my own and I frowned at its raw and broken sound. Kate’s eyes met Nick’s, who stood behind me, before settling on my face.

“Why?” she asked and put down the books she was holding.

Y/N’s books. Kate crossed her arms and raised her perfect eyebrows, looking at me with nothing but hatred in her eyes.

“Y/N isn’t coming back, Harry. She’s done with you and the poor excuse of a boyfriend you were.”

“Kate,” Nick spoke calmly, as if trying to warn her not to hit a nerve.

But it was already done and I felt cold and tense all over as her words hit me like a slap to the face.
If Kate said it, it must be true, I realized, my thoughts cursing through my head so fast it was hard to grasp them.

“She’s not?” I asked.

“No, you idiot, of course she’s not!”

Kate pushed her long and blonde locks out of her face so I had a clear view on her rolling her eyes at my desperate words. She leaned down and picked the books she’d held back up and walked past me without uttering another word. This felt like a punch to the gut, somehow humiliating as she treated me like I was far below her, unworthy of more of her attention. When I turned around to face Nick he had trouble looking at me. It was only now that I noticed how we hadn’t actually seen each other since the night at the bar and after I’d told him about my infidelity via text, he hadn’t contacted me anymore at all. Now he stood before me, his shoulder slightly slacking and his eyes looking anywhere but at me.

“It was you, wasn’t it?” I said quietly, “You’re the one who told her, right?”

Nick bit his lip and nodded. “She was always a good friend to me, you know?”

“I get it,” I interrupted him, before he could form an apology or explanation.

I really did understand him and why he’d done it. He had a better sense of what was right and wrong than me. Nick smiled gently and muttered a quiet goodbye, before stuffing the few shirts he’d collected into his bag and exiting the room as well. I’d realized a lot today. One of it was that I had been blind for a very long time. And the second was a fact which slowly began to sink in, a little more each hour I spent without Y/N. Y/N would never be coming back to me and it would tear apart my heart.


It had been clear to me from very early on, that Y/N and I would fall into a greater, deeper and more consuming love than either of us had ever felt before. This had brought a sense of fear with it, as well as more joy than I could’ve even begin to describe.
We’d only been seeing each other for a few months when I’d let the magical three words fall from my lips. It had happened by accident, a declaration made after Y/N had just made me laugh so hard my belly hurt. To my great relief she’d reciprocated the words with no hesitation, making me the happiest person and us the happiest couple we could have become.
Y/N was by the far the most beautiful person I’d ever met. She’d easily caught my eye when I’d first saw her and after having spoken to her for the entire evening, I’d not only learned about her kind heart and good sense of humor, but had also began to notice how her eyes crinkled cutely when she smiled or how insanely kissable her lips looked. In fact, her beauty had somehow increased the longer we’d spent time together. Soon my heart had been aching for her affection, hands had started to itch to touch her and mind had burned to know more about her.  
Time passed and we’d grown so close, soon we were called inseparable by all of our friends. I’d loved her with all of my heart back then and had been certain that she’d love me just as much. Now I was left wondering when I’d stopped wanting to lay the word to her feet and instead put my most selfish needs first.

Sex with Cici was a lot different than sex with Y/N was. Her touch was rough as she often liked holding me down whilst she took over pace and rhythm, forcing the both of us to an orgasm quickly. Cici’s lips liked to bite and nip on my skin, leaving marks wherever she could reach me and when she was done she didn’t waste any time with affectioned embraces, but got to her feet and continued with her day, leaving me laying sweaty and still panting on her bed or wherever it was we did it. It was clear to the both of us that it was her who set the tone in our ‘relationship’. And it was clear that she wanted nothing from me, but my body, just like I didn’t want anything else from her either.  
Sex with Y/N was… as corny as it may sound, us proclaiming our love to each other. Her hands held on to me tightly, but never rough and without leaving marks. She kissed my lips with such intensity, it was sometimes her lips that stole my breath, rather than the pleasure. Not that she wasn’t great in bed or that it didn’t feel good, because it certainly did. It was a kind of pleasure more intense than any I’d ever felt before, even with Cici, however with Y/N, said pleasure didn’t come first. We didn’t sleep with each other to please our needs. Y/N and I had sex so we could become as connected to each other as it was humanly possible, wanting to have each other close.
So why had I needed another woman to satisfy my needs? I couldn’t tell. And I’d often wondered what I believed I were missing shortly after having slept with Y/N.
Perhaps I’d searched for more due to how easygoing Cici was with it all. She gave me head whenever I wanted her to and didn’t complain when I stopped by at her apartment in the middle of the night, asking her for a quick shag. Of course, in return, I had to be willing to comply when she called me, ordering me over so she could have her way with me. It happened this way more often, than me asking for her. She couldn’t get enough. Cici was cold and didn’t care and over time, I feared I’d become the same.


My closed fist met the wooden door with such force a stinging pain cursed from my knuckles up my arm, making me hiss. I didn’t stop though and continued to knock loudly. Finally the door flung open and there she was, my beautiful Y/N.
Her hair was a mess, sticking out into every direction, but I couldn’t pay much attention to it as my eyes instantly found her sleepy and swollen ones. They widened when she recognized me and I acted quickly, pushing my foot between the door and its frame, stopping her from closing the door again. She cursed and whined, pushing furiously at the handle.

“Please,” I begged, my voice thin and faint, “hear me out.”

She didn’t speak. She didn’t even look at me, but instead turned away her head and began pushing against the wood as hard as she could. My foot ached but I couldn’t give up now.

“Y/N, baby, I-”

I was interrupted by a loud sound, a mixture between a hiss and cry that made the blood freeze in my veins. It almost sounded inhumane and was a declaration of utter frustration and pain. Finally, the beautiful eyes I had missed and longed for so badly met my gaze with a burning intensity. Y/N’s lovely lips were set into a thin line and though she didn’t try to push the door shut anymore, her hard stare was enough to make me feel unwelcome.

“How dare you come here?” she asked, her voice so tense with anger it cut into my soul, “Huh? Is this the moment I’m supposed to jump into your arms and forget what happened? Forget what you did to me?”

I swallowed hard, desperately searching for the right words. “Y/N, I understand you don’t want me here. Of course you don’t, but I beg you to hear me out still.”

“Forget it,” Y/N replied coldly, “You are the last person I could ever want to see and there is no reason for you to be here anyway!”

“There isn’t?” I asked, my voice suddenly incredibly small.

I hadn’t been stupid enough to believe she wasn’t beyond angry with me, but god had I underestimated how much her rejection would hurt. My lungs ached as breathing became difficult and my sweaty palms shook heavily. If she would have punched me it would have been more pleasant. When a humorless laugh fell from her lips, I felt as if she’d spit in my face. Y/N shook hear head, an insincere smile pulling at her mouth.

“No, there isn’t,” she said, “I am here! This means there is no room for you! There will never be a "Harry and Y/N” ever again as there is no scenario in which I’d forgive you.“


The pleading word fell from my mouth before I could stop it.

“Did you think I would take you back? That I would still want you?” Y/N asked, “After you fucked someone else behind my back for month! And after I didn’t even find out through you, but was told by one of your friends!”

Yes. That had been exactly what I’d hoped for. I’d known it would be difficult, if not nearly impossible, but never completely ridiculous to believe. I’d been sure, that her and I would somehow be good again. But now, looking at her, it finally sunk in how mistaken I’d been. She’d never come back. The night we’d spent with each other had meant nothing, certainly not us vowing our love to each other.
I didn’t find it in me to feel ashamed for the tears slipping from my eyes. She had every right to see me cry, see how hurt I was, too. Maybe it would give her some satisfaction to see me in pain for once as it was just what I deserved and had brought onto myself. It was only fair, wasn’t it? I’d heard her cry more times than I could count, late at night when I came home to find her curled up in our bed, her entire frame shaking. And that was only if  I came home. There had probably been many more moments where I’d made her cry, without being there to notice. Without being there to at least face her pain. A sob wrecked through me and I lowered my gaze to my feet, too ashamed to look at her any longer.


“Please, Y/N,” I spoke shakily, “I need you to not hate me. That’s all I can ask. Please don’t hate me.”

She stayed silent after I uttered those words and I could feel her eyes on me, but I didn’t dare look up. I was too much of a coward.

“Please calm down,” Y/N sighed, yet not sounding annoyed,  really.

Hesitantly I looked at her and noticed how she was biting the inside of her cheek, something she always did when she was nervous.
I realized that she didn’t know how to deal with the situation either. She may have got herself a nice apartment and sorted it all out, but me appearing at her door shook her more than she liked to admit. When her orbs wandered back to find mine, I tried my best to keep her gaze, too afraid I’d never get them to look at me again if I let this bond break.
Sighing, she moved so I could enter the small space behind her and with weak legs I followed her into the living room, letting the door fall shut behind us.

“Looks nice,” I muttered.

She didn’t reply, but instead walked over to the sofa where her phone was, picked it up and began dialing.

“What are you doing?” I asked quietly, still unable to stop the tears from wetting my cheeks.

I took my time to muster her and how pretty she looked. The jumper falling from her shoulders gave her appearance a cuddly look and I, much like the first time we’d met, itched to reach out and hold her in my arms.

“I’m calling you a taxi,” she informed me quietly, “You’re too wound up to drive and you staying here certainly isn’t an option.”

My tongue felt heavy as I slowly spoke: “You won’t even listen.”

“It wouldn’t change anything if I did,” she replied, but set the phone to the side regardlessly.

She was so beautiful. And kind and loving and simply too good for me to have ruined her the way I had done. I watched her walk over and take a seat on one of the chairs by her table and noticed that it was the very same chair she used to drink her tea on when it had still stood in our kitchen. Our chair.

“Your moving men came last week to get what Nick and Kate couldn’t carry,” I muttered, even though she already knew that of course.

“They didn’t charge too much,” Y/N said emotionless, “I even got a discount when I explained that they were helping me escape an asshole of a boyfriend.”

She flinched when I moved closer to her and before either of us could properly react I was kneeling before her, grasping one of her hands in mine tightly and crying onto her skin.

“I’m begging you,” I whimpered, “my life can’t exist without you in it.”

“Harry,” Y/N winced but I didn’t give her a chance to reject me again.

“I’ll do whatever it is you want! Please, Y/N. Move to your favorite place in the world, quit my job, get us whatever pet it is you want! Even if it’s a llama or something else that’s completely ridiculous to keep in a city household. Anything, Y/N, please-”

“Delete the last four and a half months, Harry!” Y/N yelled, “Maybe I’d forgive you then!”

My body jumped back at the sudden raise in her voice and its volume. She forcefully pulled her fingers from my grasp.

“You cheated on me! You can’t even imagine what that felt like! What it still feels like everyday when I look into the mirror, when I stand there and ask myself what the hell it is that is so wrong with me you had to do this!”

“It’s not your fault, Y/N, I swear! It had nothing to do with you-”

“Sure it didn’t.”

The finality in her voice made me shut up and a new wave of pain and tears hit me as I truly saw what I’d caused. She shook her head and pushed my hands from her lap, as if too disgusted to have me touch her.

“Didn’t the night we spent together mean anything to you?”

I felt bad for not being able to keep the judgmental tone out of my voice, especially as I was probably the last person allowed to accuse her for using me for sex.
Something in her eyes widened and I knew I’d struck a nerve.

“Of course it meant something to me,” she whispered and I whimpered when she reached out to touch my cheek, just like she’d done that night. The gesture held so much comfort it caused another few tears to slip from my eyes.

“But Harry,” Y/N continued, holding my gaze with a raw kindness in her gaze, “It meant goodbye.”

Goodbye. It meant that we were done, our relationship dead and to never be revived again. All the nights we’d spent laughing together, cuddled up in bed while sharing our most sacred secrets, they were all gone. She’d never embrace me form behind while I was selecting a shirt, cuddling herself against my naked back again. Y/N would never drink her tea while I made her breakfast, again. And above all, I would never again hear her tell me she loved me.

“Goodbye,” I whispered, looking at my beautiful angel before me, “Okay.”

Without speaking any further I got to my feet and cleared my throat. She rose from her seat as well and looked at me expectantly.

“You don’t have to call a taxi,” I mumbled, “I’ll drive, it’s okay. Can I just quickly use the bathroom?”

“Sure,” she spoke and cleared her throat, pointing me to the hall to her right. “It’s the first door on the left.”


With heavy feet I made my way to the small bathroom, but instantly tensed when I heard the sound of my familiar ringtone erupt from where I’d placed my jacked on the couch. Shit. I knew exactly who it was, it could only be her.
Before I could react, the ringing ended and Y/N’s small and uncertain voice spoke: “Who is it?”

Silence. My heart jumped so badly it might as well have flown from my chest. She audibly gasped when the voice on the other end of the line introduced herself. Knowing Cici she’d probably said something inappropriate like “his dick sucker” or some shit that had my stomach turn and vomit raising in my throat.

“Yes, this is his phone. He’s gone to the bathroom.”

I wanted to interrupt her so badly, finding it hard to even imagine what she must feel talking to the woman I’d had an affair with. But a part of me, a tiny selfish little part, wanted to know what she’d say. Would she send Cici out of my life? Would the reality of there being another woman, make Y/N fight for me?

“I’m Y/N,” she continued, her voice, while tense and strained, stayed very collected, “I’m his ex girlfriend.”

I leaned forward so I could glance at her form where I stood. She sat with her back tensed and her fingers shook heavily. There were tears rising in her eyes, but she blinked them away.

“He’s with me,” she said and suddenly sounded much more confident.

Maybe there still was a chance for us, the selfish part of me rejoiced, but was shut down quickly when she spoke her next words:

“Don’t worry, though. You can have Harry. He’s not mine anymore.”

Thank you for reading!! Hope you liked it. Feedback as well as requests are welcome. :) 

Rest of what I wrote can be found here:

take this burden - 44

[ to the top - twin shadow ]



He Tian and Mo Guan Shan left the bar around four, deciding to walk the few blocks home.

There was just enough bite in the air to breathe and enjoy it. They walked in comfortable silence for a few minutes, fingers laced together loosely.

An hour or so later, they made it into the apartment.

Jian Yi and Zhengxi’s keys sat on the counter.

In the bedroom, they shed the majority of their clothes, He Tian slipping on a pair of boxers he’d left in the room, (thank god) but foregoing the pajamas.

He Tian glanced at his air mattress and Mo Guan Shan scoffed.

‘If you even think about lying down on that and I will deflate it while you’re sleeping.’

He Tian held his hands up in mock surrender, stepping over it and joined the other man on the bed.

Mo Guan Shan lowered himself onto the mattress, holding his hand out, and He Tian let himself be pulled onto the mattress.

They lie facing each other, Mo Guan Shan running his fingers down the side of He Tian’s neck, He Tian tracing gentle circles over his sharp hipbone.

Time passed, ten minutes or so.

‘What’s in your head?’ Mo Guan Shan’s asked quietly.

‘You.’ He Tian answered. ‘Every empty space, you.’

‘Is that a good thing?’

He Tian nodded.

‘It is.’

Mo Guan Shan studied his face in the soft light.

‘Will you let me touch you?’

He Tian hesitated.

‘You already did.’

‘That didn’t count and you know it.’

‘I don’t know if that’s a good idea…’

Mo Guan Shan sighed, looking at him.

He Tian let himself be pushed onto his back, his breath catching as Mo Guan Shan straddled him, settling down onto his lap.

He stayed perfectly still, waiting for permission to continue, for He Tian’s nod.

Mo Guan Shan’s smile wasn’t smug or triumphant, just relieved as he crawled off He Tian, grabbing something from the nightstand and returning, removing his boxers quickly and prompting He Tian to do the same before resuming his place on his lap.

Only when he saw what Mo Guan Shan had retrieved did he give pause.



Damn it

‘What are you-’

Mo Guan Shan say the small bottle of lube on He Tian’s chest.

‘You know exactly what I’m doing.’

‘Mo Guan Shan, we’ve talked about this.’

‘Yes, but I think I’ve found a loophole.’

He Tian raised his eyebrows.

‘Do tell.’

‘Well, you’re afraid to hurt me, or take it too far?’

‘Yes…’ He Tian squirmed underneath him, uncomfortably unsure of where he was going with this.

‘Well, if you’re not doing anything, you can’t.’

‘Mo Guan Shan, I can’t solve riddles when you’re on top of me. It’s a newly discovered weakness.’

Mo Guan Shan smiled sheepishly.

‘What I’m saying, is if you just lie back and let me do everything, you won’t be doing either one of those things.’

He Tian sighed heavily.

‘Even if that wasn’t ridiculous reasoning, and NOT a loophole, I don’t think I’m physically capable of doing that.’

‘I bet Zhengxi has handcuffs around here.’

He Tian opted to ignore that for now. One agonizing struggle at a time, please.

‘But it’s not…you’re not…’

‘Don’t you want to?’ the redhead asked.

‘You know I do.’

‘So, how about about you let me decide what I’m ready for tonight?’

‘Maybe we should sleep on it and talk about it tomorrow…’

Mo Guan Shan looked down at him, expression carefully blank.

‘Please?’ He whispered.

He Tian thought back to their conversation in his office and and felt like a grade A fucking asshole.

There was a nearly imperceptible shift and everything changed.

This wasn’t about the sex, not entirely.

Mo Guan Shan wanted to feel in control.

He wanted to make his own choices about what he did with his body.

He wanted to see if sex could still be a good thing.

Still feel good.

He trusted He Tian not to hurt him.

All this time, he’d been so worried about making sure he felt safe, that he had everything he needed to recover.

This is one of those things.

He needed this.

He Tian’s chest tightened and for an absurd moment he felt like he might cry.

‘Yes. Of course.’

Mo Guan Shan didn’t give him a chance to back out, cupping his cheek and leaning down for a kiss.

He moved slowly, sighing as He Tian parted his lips for his tongue and pressed their hips together.

Sitting up, Mo Guan Shan picked up the little bottle, popping the cap and drizzling a generous amount over his fingers.

He Tian froze for a second, realizing he’d forgotten a certain specification.

‘Just so we’re on the same page, you're…’

Mo Guan Shan looked confused for a moment before realizing what he meant and rolling his eyes good naturedly.

‘You’re going inside me, He Tian.’

‘Oh, thank god.’

Mo Guan Shan’s laugh eased some of the nervous tension and He Tian smiled.

Placing his hand on the mattress next to He Tian’s shoulder, Mo Guan Shan lowered himself down, dropping his head and reaching behind himself.

He Tian tightened his fingers on Mo Guan Shan’s thighe, momentarily overwhelmed by the mental image of what Mo Guan Shan was doing.

Mo Guan Shan gently ran his fingers over his entrance, shuddering at the sensation and burying his face in He Tian’s neck.

‘Do you want help?’ He Tian asked, very much hoping he’d say yes.

Mo Guan Shan shook his head, pushing a finger in and letting himself adjust to it.

Several minutes passed as Mo Guan Shan prepared himself and He Tian forced himself to breathe.

Mo Guan Shan whimpered and He Tian turned his head to place gentle kisses on the man’s neck.

‘More.’ Mo Guan Shan breathed.

He Tian complied, digging his fingernails into Mo Guan Shan’s thighs, sucking a faint bruise into the soft skin of his neck.

Lord knows how much time passed as Mo Guan Shan prepared himself.

Eventually, he placed a hand on He Tian’s chest, lining himself up and pressing the head of He Tian’s cock against his entrance.

‘Are you ready?’ Mo Guan Shan asked.


Inch by agonizing inch, Mo Guan Shan sank down onto him, maintaining eye contact.

The soft, wet, heat enveloped him and he desperately willed himself not to come. Not yet. Not twice in one day, for fuck’s sake.

Mo Guan Shan steadied himself and began to move, letting his eyes flutter closed.

He Tian wrestled momentarily with the carnal urge to flip them over, taste every inch of his skin and show him exactly how fucking good this should feel.

Patience, he told himself. You can have it your way next time.

Placing both hands on He Tian’s chest, Mo Guan Shan sat up, rocking his hips and biting his lower lip to stay quiet.

Desperately, He Tian forced himself to stay still, digging his fingers into Mo Guan Shan’s hips hard enough to leave ten tiny bruises.

He wasn’t in this to put on a show, but that sure as shit didn’t stop He Tian from enjoying every damn micro expression that crossed his face.

He bit his tongue to keep himself from telling Mo Guan Shan how god damned pretty he looked on his dick. It wasn’t the time for that kind of talk but he’d be fucked…more fucked, that is, if it wasn’t true.

Mo Guan Shan’s eyes were shut tightly, brows furrowed in either intense concentration or frustration, possibly both, as he searched for a feeling just out of reach.

Admittedly, He Tian didn’t have much to offer in the way of comfort or emotional support, but this? This he could do.

He Tian bent the rules, just a little bit. He wrapped an arm around Mo Guan Shan gently and pulled him close before whispering ‘you need to stay quiet, alright?’

Mo Guan Shan nodded, confused as He Tian dug his heels into the mattress, and angled his hips.

Brain short circuiting, Mo Guan Shan ran his fingers through He Tian’s hair and gave it a sharp tug, gasping when his hips snapped up involuntarily.

Wrapping his fingers around Mo Guan Shan’s wrist, he pulled his hand away gently, shaking his head.

‘Not tonight.’

The man on top nodded, returning his hand to He Tian’s chest and propping himself up again while He Tian resumed his previous position and considered punching himself in the face. He was his very own fucking cockblock.

Mo Guan Shan eased his feet under He Tian’s thighs to anchor him and found a rhythm, the backs of his fingers pressed to his parted lips.

He Tian wanted to push his fingers between those lips, to spread his legs, hold him still, and fuck him senseless. He wanted to pull his hand away and make him scream.

But he wanted this more.

Mo Guan Shan finally relaxed, muscles unclenching and giving into the feeling as he reached down to touch himself.

He should have asked for those handcuffs.

He moved with Mo Guan Shan, meeting his shallow thrusts, watching intently as he chased release, trembling, body slick with sweat.

‘I’m going t-to…’

Mo Guan Shan trailed off as He Tian picked up the pace, encouraging him as he brought himself to the edge and pulling him over.

When he came, Mo Guan Shan collapsed on top of him and it was all He Tian could do to pull out, finishing into his hand and wiping it off on a discarded item of clothing.

He ran his fingers through Mo Guan Shan’s hair as they both came down, exhausted and sticky.

Mo Guan Shan rolled off him, wincing when he hit the mattress and letting He Tian clean him up as best he could in the soft light.

He Tian tossed the dirty shirt across the room and settled back down.

They lie facing each other.

Mo Guan Shan looked down at their intertwined fingers and He Tian wiped away his tears as they fell.

‘Good or bad?’ He whispered, referring to the tears, to the sex, to the two of them, to anything he would answer.


Our Brooklyn Promenades (Masterlist) Steve Rogers x Reader

What do we have here? It is an unlikely tale of [Y/N] running into Steve in the midst of taking care of her laundry somewhere in Brooklyn, of making Captain America her man, and keeping it that way. Twelve dates spread over roughly eight months, and one engaging epilogue.

Characters: Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, and Natasha Romanoff. 

Ratings: Slowburn M/E (18+).

Warnings: there’s a lot of drinking going on, there are swearwords, and the characters are down for some 18+ business.

A/N: Mostly fluff, building towards a bit of angst, and some 18+ smut. For other stories check out my Main Masterlist.

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Kris Wu: Hip-hop is my attitude (BAZAAR November 2017)

Hip-hop soul
Styled as a garage, the photography studio had the metal look of “The Rap of China” recording set. Kris Wu and his friends arrived fully dressed in dark glasses, leather and fur, gleaming accessories and hair styled in place. A still capture of them would have completely looked like a poster for a mafia movie.

Stern browed and bright eyed; tall, stately and handsome - This was what Guan Hu described Kris Wu to be during the first time he saw him, and was probably the majority of people’s first impressions of him as well. Until he is seated in front of you, very focused and good-tempered even during introductions where it was not necessary to actually answer any of the questions, patiently waiting for you to explain for an entire three minutes, then at that moment you would be able to feel this boy’s liveliness and cuteness.

“Do rappers all dress like this?”
While stroking his bracelet, he would begin to explain the origin of hip-hop to you: “Because the history of hip-hop was such - In the past, African Americans led a hard life, and had big hopes of money, so when they gained fame they liked to wear gold accessories to show that they earned money. Gradually this became something symbolic, including dark glasses, they represented a certain style which gave off the feeling that one was very cool. But at present, hip-hop fashion is different from that of the past. It is not only limited to baggy clothing, but also includes some high street fashion as well as athletic wear and classic styles mixed together to create a hip-hop look. However, no matter how the trends on appearance change, as a street culture which conveys freedom and an attitude of individuality, the spirit and soul of hip-hop will remain the same.”

The most important thing is doing what you love
After completing all of <The Rap of China> schedules, Kris Wu placed his work focus on creating his own new music. He has always created the newest hip-hop music, and openly expressed his desire to promote hip-hop. Like his song <6> which was released in July, its completely done in a international style with speedy Hi-Hats, various sound effects with the 808 drum machine, the combination of all these elements resulting in a multi-layered tune. He is willing to do such an experiment, to mix the most trendy global hip-hop music elements together with Chinese rap. He believes that currently, as hip-hop gets more popular, there will be even more of the public that will get to know and love hip-hop. He also hopes that one day in the future, Chinese hip-hop will make it big globally.

In the past, Kris Wu wanted to be a professional basketball player, but because of various reasons, his dream could not be accomplished, which became something he obsessed over. So right now with even more options today, Kris Wu’s life motto is “Follow my heart”, do the things that you love till the very end, so that you won’t leave behind any regrets.

When many people watch <The Rap of China>, they would notice that you are not an idol with a hip hop label, yet you’ve said that you’re someone with a hip hop soul. At what age were you really sure that this was your favourite genre of music?
I began listening to hip hop music when I was about 11, 12 years old. It was because I liked basketball when I was younger, and my idols such as Kobe were all African Americans, and also hip hop music was played during the NBA tournaments, so since young this was something I constantly heard. After entering the industry I had a growing realisation that since I was making music, why not make music that I loved?

Previously, (before <The Rap of China>) you didn’t have many close interactions with the local Chinese hip hop contestants, but after recording this show, were there any of their music works, skills or ideas that surprised you?
There are definitely surprises, when it comes to rapping, the way the lyrics are conveyed, including content of lyrics, and language are all very important. So when the language is very different, the whole context would be very different as well, thus even if you sing a song of the same gene, for example Trap which is very popular now, after singing it won’t feel the same. But after this competition, I also found out that many contestants like retro styles such as Old School, and many people like to rap very fast as well. This is something which is very meaningful, because overseas, such elements have been used by many people for years. And right now for the new wave of music, it’s more focused on the  rhythm, including the use of catchy phrases and rhyming words. Before, everyone loved to write four-bar music that was fully filled with lyrics, which made it sound very outstanding, but actually you wouldn’t be able to understand what was being rapped. So right now, others are making music with elements that aren’t as tightly packed together. Actually if you listen to hip-hop it’s different every year, there will be different trends each year. So I feel that for this aspect, we can do even better, and it will definitely become even better as well.

At this point in time, is there any point music-wise which you really want yourself to improve on?
I feel that all this while my standards for myself are especially strict. In all my works that I do, I always give my 100% effort. Just like we should never stop learning, when it comes to music it’s also something that has no limits. There will always be ways to do it better, and there will always be new stuff coming out. I hope to be a pioneer in creating the direction and trends of music, this is something which I’ve been doing continuously as well.

From the start of the show till the end, it has garnered a large scale interest towards hip-hop. This is the outcome you hoped to see, right?
Of course, I’m really happy about it. But on the flip side, I also hope that everyone will not overly commercialise hip-hop music and culture. This is my only concern, because I know that in China when something gains popularity, everyone would embrace it. (For example having thoughts such as) I want to sign on hip-hop singers, I want to start a company, or I want to become a hip-hop singer. But when something develops at a overly speedy rate, there will definitely be lots of loopholes and issues with small details that will arise, that would have a negative impact later on. So I hope that everyone can slowly go along, with patience, step by step. Give this genre of music and culture a good time frame for growth. Of course, proper guidance from the media and professional platforms would be needed as well.


CHEN WEI (Producer of <The Rap of China>)
When the choice to make <The Rap of China> had been made, Kris Wu was the first producer to be chosen. This wasn’t just because he would be able to raise viewership ratings, but it was because he really understood and was passionate about hip-hop.  The process of inviting him on the show went really smoothly, and we were only able to do so because this was something that he was most excited about. Earlier on there were people who doubted him, but from the start I was never worried. Based on his attitude and knowledge towards music, I felt that he would definitely be able to appreciate this. But after the program recording began, I was yet again shocked by him, as I didn’t expect him to be so professional. If I were to evaluate his performance on the show, I would give a perfect score. For the second season, I hope that he can have even more fun on the show. I know that he would also really want to get to know the contestants, to create even better, even newer hip-hop music.

CHE CHE (Chief director of <The Rap of China>)
The first time I saw Kris Wu was in his dressing room. I had a deep impression of this incident, he brewed a pot of tea by himself and came over. We then chatted for a long time and the conversation gave me many surprises. My impression of him before was a top-notch idol, but on that day I discovered that he had a deep understanding of the entire hip-hop culture, be it the industry or its origins, and even now the newest current global trends. After working together later on, what surprised me was that he really worked on <The Rap of China> as his own show, expressed himself, and was totally immersed and focused on it, completely exceeding my expectations. We feel that amongst the three groups of producers, Kris Wu represents the power of youth, because he has a great influence on trends, but what makes him even more outstanding is that he is able to introduce even more global views, what he values and is doing now is at the forefront of global music trends.

Before getting to know Kris Wu, I didn’t really think much about him, but I knew that he debuted in a Korean group. That was in a highly competitive environment, where everyone had to work extremely hard in order to stand out. Such a background made me feel that he wasn’t a very simple young person. I also knew that he was very popular, but what I wanted to know was, was he really someone who genuinely made music? After getting to know him much better, I sincerely admired him, because I was able to see his attitude in doing things.

During the time I was with Kris Wu, what I found the most unforgettable was when I wanted to make my own song. When I told him about this, he offered to help me, and I thought he was just saying it casually. I thought that it would be really complicated to meet up with him, would I have to get in touch with his manager first? Did I have to sign a contract and so on> But there was no such thing, it turned out to be really easy. The both of us happened to be in Los Angeles during a period of time, and we completed it together. Our goal was unanimous and simple, to make this song the best it could be. It was a time where we genuinely immersed ourselves in making music. His attitude and initiative were a huge encouragement to me.

Before the show I didn’t have a good understanding of Kris Wu. I only knew that he was a handsome guy who knew how to sing and dance, and an artiste who was extremely popular. After getting to know him, especially in the 60 Seconds round, I thought he was a very interesting person when I saw him in the second set. I thought he was a honest and frank guy, who said what he wanted to, and in this aspect was very genuine. Actually coming on to this show, the pressure and burden of expectations he had to bear was greater than the other two groups of producers, because many people were doubtful of him. In the eyes of most of the underground rappers, they thought that he was entering a culture that he wasn’t familiar with, and he stood out like a misfit. Later on I realised that he got into hip-hop even earlier, and made even more fresh music. He used his professionalism to prove himself, which is his strongest point. The best thing about participating in the show was that you could view it from the sidelines, be it producers or other rappers, every person has different strong points, which you do not possess.

translation: @wu_yi_fan

Press Coverage/Less Coverage (Tony Stark x Reader) (Part 2/2)

Part 1 is HERE

Warnings: Daddy kink. There’s a little bit of tony hating himself but like if you’ve seen the iron man movies you already know what that’s like. NSFW.

Rating: NC-17

Word Count: 7.2k (oh my fucking god how did this get so long)

A/N: I started this fic in june of last year and it’s just now finished. I hate my procrastinating ass so much you have no idea.

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