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!

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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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.

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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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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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: Want to be tagged? Hit me up with a message/comment and I’ll add you to the list! Mostly fluff, building towards a bit of angst, and some 18+ smut. For other stories check out my Main Masterlist.

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25| Pas De Deux

Pairing: Jimin x Reader
Genre: Ballet au, Romance, Angst
Warnings: None
Wordcount: 3846

Masterlist | Prev | Next

He held you against his chest for a second, as you both got your breathing in check. The dancers spun around you, black figures in the dimmed lights. The piano played, but you heard none of it.

Jimin. Jimin!

Gently, he lowered you back to the stage floor, until you could sit. You stared up. How? How was this possible? But he was gazing back down at you, his eyes still an intense green, his hair messy.

“You’re here.” You whispered.

He lips turned up slightly. “I’m here.”

His voice. You let out the croak of a sob and a laugh. Your ankle moved. You gasped, gulping back the sick feeling.

“What are you doing?” He demanded, the floating world of yours destroyed. The piano was loud in your ears now. It was time. As soon as the piano reached its crescendo you had to be ready.

“I’m dancing.” You told him.

“(Name)” He said incredulously. “You’re injured.”

You shook your head. “It’s not so bad.” Now more than ever, with Jimin here. You had to do this…

With your teeth biting hard into your lip, you pushed yourself up, getting your good leg under you.

But suddenly Jimin’s hand was on your shoulder, pushing you back down. His eyes burned, “(Name), you can’t do this.”

You stared for a second. “I know.” You said, voice wavering “But I still have to.”

“Why? You’re in pain, (Name). I could tell from the wings.”

You smiled grimly. “‘There are no excuses’.”

His eyes flashed, recognizing his own words. He looked at your swollen ankle, then back to your face, studying it. “I can’t stop you, can I?”

You shook your head. “You can’t.”

He raised his chin, looking past the dancer’s into the blackness of the unseeing audience. “You must dance then, but not alone.”

In a single movement, he had lifted you up to standing, making sure you were leaning on your left foot.

“Jimin.” You whispered, your mind struggling to catch up. “You don’t have to do this. I know you don’t.”

He hooked a finger under your chin, tilting it till you met his eyes. They burned with fire. “(Surname) (Name).” He said softly, though his words were as strong. “Ignore everything, everything that I have said previous to this moment.” He leaned closer to you, eyes turning almost desperate. “I know I don’t deserve it, but will you trust me? Will you give me your trust, (Name)?”

For all the worlds, you could have pondered his words for hours. You could have questioned and fought, but at the end of the day, you realized, there would only ever be one answer. “I trust you.” You whispered. No, you couldn’t let yourself interpret his words the way you wanted to. You couldn’t let the delusion win.

“And I trust you.” He said back, shutting his eyes for a split second. “More than I have allowed myself to understand.”

You were so confused, what did he mean?

Then he gently turned you so that you were facing the front, where your class would soon break apart. “Just keep your weight on your left foot.” He said softly in your ear. He was so close. Shivers ran up your spine. “If you can, keep your other leg straight. I won’t drop you.”

You nodded nervously. “We have four bars.” The eight people dancing around you sped up, spinning and twirling as you had, lifting the music to the most terrific peak. “One.” You said shakily. “Two.” You were going to dance with Jimin “Three.” No, no those same feelings were going to come back. “Four.” You had to stay neutral. “Five.” Simultaneously, you took in a deep breath. Jimin pulled you a little closer to him.

It was just a dance…


But was it?

“Jimin!” You spoke up.

“(Name), I – ”

But the dancers hiding you suddenly split, fading away into the wings. No!

Jimin hesitated only a moment, then lifted you high. Your arms rose up. The glaring bright lights were on the two of you. You were bared to the black sea of the audience. The world opened.

You heard the gasp of surprise. The piano suddenly faltered, holding on to its last note. Everything paused. Just for a single second. And then the piano started again.

It was the same tune, but slower, more delicate. It was the beginning again! Those first few curious bars.

Jimin lowered you, until your left pointe touched the ground. The notes began to roll down, and you did as you had done before, leaning into a penche, lifting your leg up until it was straight with your standing one. But it was different now, because Jimin was in front of you, down on his knee, holding your hands. His eyes held your, gazing at you. You knew you looked confused and flustered. He hadn’t answered. You didn’t know. What had he been about to say?

The music came back up, and so did you. Then you walked forward, trying to keep your weight on your ankle for only the briefest of moments. Jimin held your hand. You went up on your pointe. He seemed to know what you were going to do, and so you pirouetted. His hands rung around you, giving extra spin.

It felt so easy, but you just didn’t know. You didn’t understand.

The music finished it’s tinkling. You should have ended your turn and put your leg back on the ground as you usually did, but your body, without any instruction, leant backwards, letting your bad leg stretch out in front of you, laying your head against his shoulder.

Why? Why were you doing this? It was silly, he hadn’t answered.

But it felt so perfect, leaning back against him. You felt safe your eyes shut. His hand came further onto your stomach.

What were you doing?

The music continued. You stepped away from him, his hands slipping from your bodice. But you knew you wanted them back.

You walked forward again. Jimin, a few metres away from you now, did the same.

This was the part where you were meant to be reaching for something, but you had already discovered the World of Ballet. This time, you had to search for something else, but the one thing that you wanted. It was stupid, it had been proven wrong on so many occasions, but you still wanted it. You wanted it so badly now.

So you gave up.

You let yourself be taken.

You let the delusion have you.

As the music came into its final soft chord, you gave Jimin one last, almost apologetic look. You knew he was just trying to get you through the rest of your solo. You knew you shouldn’t make it more than it was, but then you let your bad leg come behind your other, and you lowered, letting your back knee touch the ground. Your tutu was rough on your thigh. You brought your hand to your heart, bowing your head.

Surrendering yourself to him, to Jimin.

At that moment there was no past, no future. There was just raw instinct, all there ever is in ballet, once you are here, on stage.

And so you held your position, only looking up a little, peeking at the man across the stage from you.

But he was no longer standing. He was sinking down onto one knee, bringing himself lower than you. His hand clasped to his chest.

Your breathing halted. 

He wasn’t…he couldn’t be…?

Then his face lifted again. Your eyes locked. And it was like that first dance. The same thought in your minds, except that now he knew the question you were asking. And he was giving you the answer.

When you had danced, he had felt it.

The connection. It was real!

The piano broke into the melody, definitive and sure. And you were up, rushing towards him, feeling as light as air. Your ankle hurt, but it was covered by something even more potent than adrenalin. Jimin! He understood! He knew!

As you reached the middle, you spun into a pirouette. Jimin was right there at your waist, and you leant back, your head and arms now over his shoulder. He picked you up just slightly and spun you around. You couldn’t help but laugh as you were twirled, the air rushing past you. You knew only he would hear over the light, carefree music. And you knew…somehow…that he understood.

As he put you down again, you stepped back, and he leapt across the stage, his muscles flexing as he flew through the air. You could see the smile on his face. He was truly amazing.

As he landed his second leap, he stood and held out a hand to you, his eyes lit with excitement.

You raised your chin, and in a few quick steps, your waist was in his hands again.

You let your legs come out, and it was as if you were leaping, except your feet merely brushed the floor as Jimin lifted you each time, keeping your ankle from damage. The music carried on at it’s fast pace, and you went with it. You leapt again and again, but it was growing in volume, something more had to happen.

At your highest point in the leap, Jimin suddenly twisted you and let go for a single second. You were spinning in the air! He quickly caught you again, bringing youright down until you were bent back over his arm, staring up at his face. You thought you heard clapping, but the music was coming to its end, powering through. It took only a second for him to pull you back up on your feet.

Jimin and you separated again, going to your opposite sides.

You pirouetted, feeling so glorious, so happy! As you passed in a blur, you saw Jimin doing the same, spinning with equal speed. You had never seen someone so strong.

Three bars, two bars.

And you ran once again, launching yourself high into the air. Jimin caught you as the final bar played, and you were up high in an arabesque.

An arabesque! Just as you had begun the piece, but so much had changed. You were no longer on the ground, but suspended above the whole world. Elated like no one else save one.

The last note faded.

The lights went out to black.

Jimin gently lowered you back to the ground, setting you on your pointe again. Your bad ankle tucked behind it. Your hands rested on Jimin’s chest, his arm was wrapped around your waist.

All you could hear was his breathing and your own. In the dim lights from the wings, Jimin’s face looked shadowed, beautiful and strong. The exhilaration was still on his face.

You stared at him, a smile spreading over your face. The relief, the pain, the dance.

“You answered.” You whispered, laughing in elation.

He laughed with you, pulling you up in his arms. Your hands went around his neck, he was really here. “I did, (Name).”

“All that you said before?”

He shook his head. “That dance meant everything, (Name).”

And then his lips were on yours.

You gasped. 


But then you were kissing him back urgently, your instinct taking over. You felt his smile as your mouths met. Your bodice pressed into his chest. He was so warm.

His strong arms wrapped further around you. Your fingers wove into his hair.

Perfection…perfection in chaos…

“Uh…(Name)?” Came someone’s voice.

You snapped down from your pointe, fumbling a little as you regained your footing. Jimin quickly steadied you. Your heart was going frantically fast.

You glanced around, patting down your tutu. You could faintly see your class in lines across the stage. Yuna was behind you, a grin on her face.

“Curtain call.” Jimin murmured.

“I-” But speech was a little too much for you.

Jimin grabbed your hand and helped you limp off stage.

The lights turen on again as you reached the curtain. Jimin kept a hand around your waist. “Don’t go further back. I think Hyejin’s waiting…”

You nodded nervously. You’d kissed Jimin. Jimin had kissed you. You’d kissed. Jimin he was here. The delusion wasn’t a delusion.

You bit your lip and focussed on your class.

They were in two lines, alternately girls and boys, standing poised and perfect. They walked forward as one, then the ladies stepped to the right and curtsied, as you did in class. You looked at Hyeun almost bursting with excitement. Minjee was between Kihyn and Jongsoo in the front row, looking demure, her usual half-smirk on her face. The boys then stepped up and bowed, just a simple forward motion. Kwangsik was beaming like he hadn’t done for days. Again, you hoped Jiwoo was watching.

The audience, who you couldn’t see, clapped and clapped. Your class, your class who had been through so much because of you, were smiling and looking at each other proudly. Part of you hummed with happiness. You hadn’t failed them, or at least, they didn’t think you had.

They walked back again, leaving space at the front of the stage, and their heads turned to where Jimin and you stood in the wings.

“Ready?” Jimin whispered.

You nodded.

“Can you walk?” He asked.

“I’ll have to.” You murmured.

You remembered Odette, four years ago, when you’d first experienced ballet. What had she done?

Jimin took your left hand in his, and his other hand rested lightly on your back. You walked out. The clapping became louder. Someone shouted something. You swallowed and focussed. You walked high on the balls of your feet, letting your free arm drift out, leading your body. Your ankle ached more and more with every light step. Just keep smiling. You forced brightness into your eyes, and made your lips come up. After all, you had more to be happy about than not be happy about, didn’t you? As soon as you processed everything.

Jimin held your hand lightly in his own. It was only when you reached the middle of the stage that you finally looked up.

You found yourself facing a massive auditorium packed with people. There were four blocks of seats in the stalls, sprawling around the stage. Then there was a dress circle, a golden balcony with even more seats on it. Above that was another balcony, 'the VIP’s’, which was almost empty, aside from a few people at the front.

The American Ballet, in their blue, red and white tracksuits were easy to spot in the middle of the stalls, cheering and clapping. Cheering, you swallowed, staring out at the masses of people who had watched your life change.

“Walk forward, (Name.)” Jimin whispered amusedly. You did as he said, taking three delicate steps to the front. He let go of your hand, and stepped back.

You stepped to the right, your ankle wobbling as you stood on it. Taking a deep breath, you looked to the left side of the theatre, letting your left arm up rise up, recognizing the audience there. And then you looked to the right, your right arm rising up in honour of those there. Hands met above your head and you knelt, trying to put as much weight on your knee as possible. Your  arms came down on either side of you, drawing a circle in the air as you brought them to your chest, crossing your wrists and lowering your head down to the front knee. The clapping became even louder. You felt your heart thudding through the bodice. These were your last few seconds before the dance was well and truly over. Before I had to face the massive repercussions which were to come.

But you had done what you’d set out to do.

With another deep breath, you rose up again, biting back the grimace, having to stand on your right leg. Jimin was taking your hand again. You looked at him. He was smiling at you. You stepped back, letting go of his hand this time.

He stepped forward majestically, looking confidently up to the dress circle. He made a wide sweeping motion with his left hand, acknowledging the audience as you had, and then the same with his right. Girls began squealing. He brought his hands back down to his sides as he bowed his head forward. He held it only a few moments before stepping back and taking your hand.

The two of you glanced back at your class, and then together, everyone walked forward, taking your last curtsies and bows. You went low again, more for your leg than anything else. It was then that you looked up, catching sight of the grand chandelier hanging in the middle of the auditorium. It was made up of three tiers of crystals, all shining magnificently in the lights. But they weren’t what caught your attention. It was the words written in silver on the high ceiling around it.

Do not look up, my friends, but forward, for it is upon my stage that you shall gain a glimpse of the heavens.

A shiver ran up your spine. Kwon Songmin must have written that.

Crap! You were meant to be standing! Too quickly, you lifted out of your curtsy and up onto your right leg. However your ankle gave out, and you stumbled forwards, gasping in pain.

Jimin was there in a second, grabbing your waist. You choked back a sob, and stood up straight, forcing a smile back onto your face.

They clapped even harder, then, calling out words which were lost in all the other noise. You swallowed, the sickness finally coming to you.

The lights went down.

“Oh fuck.” You moaned.

Without a word, Jimin picked you up in his arms and carried you offstage.

“Well ladies and gentlemen.” Namjoon’s voice quickly came on. “What a show of perseverance that one was! A spectacular performance there by (Surname) (Name), and Madame Choi’s First Year Class, with a rather unexpected appearance of Park Jimin! Alright, next up we have Master Kang’s class…”

As soon as you were out of the front wing and backstage, you and Jimin were surrounded by your class.

“Oh my God, (Name)!” Yuna whispered as Jimin set you back down, keeping a firm hold on you. “Are you okay?”

You took a deep breath and nodded. “I just slipped a bit. I’m fine.”

Jimin’s arm tightened around your waist. He knew you wasn’t.

“I can’t believe you fell twice.” Seohyun sneered.

“I’m sure it wasn’t her fault.” Kwangsik defended.

“OMG!” Hyeun popped up in front of you, looking excitedly from Jimin to you. “Did you guys plan this?” She gasped. “Is this why you wanted to dance tonight? Oh! That is so romantic!”

Jimin conceded a tiny smile. “No, Miss Yah, we didn’t plan this.”

“But you kissed!” She exclaimed. You felt blood rush to your cheeks. Jimin cleared his throat, looking down.

Though you had far more things to worry about, you couldn’t help the doubts from coming to you. Did he regret it? It was just a spur of the moment thing.

Yuna gave Hyeun an elbow in the ribs. “Shut up Hyeun!”

“Oh I knew it!” She kept going. “This is so amazingly cute!”

The first powerful cello strokes of Viva la Vida began playing. On the stage, girls in white and red dresses began tour jeteing across the floor.

“We caned them.” Minjee muttered, leaning back against an amp. She avoided Jimin’s gaze.

“We totally did!” Areum agreed. “And we did have a Pas de Deux in the end!”

“(Name)! Jimin!” Dawon was suddenly weaving through your class to get to you. She threw her arms around you two. You bit your cheek against the pain. “I can’t believe what you two just did!” She looked around at your class, “What all of you guys did! That was amazing!” Your class gave nervous, but still proud smiles in return. Dawon turned back to you. “I’ve never seen you dance a Pas de Deux like that, Jimin! It was just…”

But then there was the ominous click of high heels on the stage floor.

“Get out of the way! Get into your dressing rooms!” Madame Hyejin snapped. She came up to you as your class hesitantly left. She was dressed in an elegant evening dress, which was a deep red and reached up one shoulder. “You too, Miss Jung.” She said. Dawon frowned, but Madame Hyejin gave her a stony look. Sighing, Dawon gave you a quick smile and left.

Madame Hyejin stepped in closer. “What the Hell did you two think you were doing?” She hissed. “You!” She looked your up and down. “This is the second time you broke the rules! Right in front of me! And you!” She jabbed a finger at Jimin. “What did you think you were doing? Running on stage like that!”

“I checked the lighting, Hyejin.” Jimin said calmly. “The audience couldn’t see me.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re meant to be in Los Angeles!”

When he didn’t say anything, she sighed. “I need to go and get the next class ready. Doctor Hill is in his office. You need to go and see him – you may have fooled the audience, but you certainly didn’t fool us. And I don’t doubt Master Jinho will wish to talk to you both after the Review is finished.”

You nodded. You gulped, feeling worse by the second.

Madame Hyejin began to walk off, but then stopped, turning back around.

“Jimin.” She said, her voice softer. She gazed at him. “You could have saved many people a lot of grief tonight if you had done what I told you to do earlier.”

Jimin paused. “I know,” he said quietly. What was Madame Hyejin talking about?

She nodded and went into the crossover.

Master Kang’s dancers hurried about, getting to their entrances on time. You glanced through the wings. True to the rumours, there were five pairs of dancers in the middle of the stage, the boys helping the girls to pirouette and performing straight lifts.

Watching their right legs snapping up and down from pointe made you feel even sicker.

Leaning heavily on Jimin, you silently headed for the stage door.

The dressing room corridors were mercifully empty.

You slumped down onto a bench and began picking at the knot of your pointe shoe. It untied quickly. You pulled off the shoe, relieved at the release of pressure. But then you looked at you ankle.

Even through the tights, you could see it had swelled horribly, and the whole area of your foot had turned an ugly blue and black.

“Jesus, (Name).” Jimin breathed, kneeling down beside you.

You swallowed.“It’s not that bad.”

“I shouldn’t have let you dance.”

You shook your head. “You said it yourself; you couldn’t have stopped me.”

He glanced up at you. “Why did you want to do it so much?”

“It’s dancing.” You replied without a thought.

He gazed at you, a slight smile coming to his lips. “So it is.” He said softly. He understood, he understood the one thing which no one else could grasp.

But footsteps were echoing down the hallway.

“Would you care to explain.” Came a sneering voice. “Why you’re wearing my tutu?”

Cool Down- Steve x Reader(f)   Chapter 6

Authors Notes: This was supposed to be a series where each chapter is short. Like, no more than 800 words… so, here’s a 1.2K chapter bc I’m a wordy sonuvagun.

Notes/ Warnings: Steamy kissing, a little tension, and fluffy fluff.

Originally posted by skylerlockerbie

Steve rode around the back roads to nowhere, just riding with you sitting in front of him. Most of the time he had one arm wrapped around your waist and you knew it had nothing to do with safety. You leaned into him after a while, finally feeling a little more relaxed as the ride went on.

 By the time the two of you got back to the house it was nearly two in the morning. Steve decided to be polite and stop the bike at the beginning of the driveway, pushing it all the way up the gravel drive with ease so as not to wake anyone.

 Being the gentleman he was, he walked you up to your room. He kissed you goodnight at the top of the stairs, making you whine with how short and sweet it was.

 He chuckled and rested his forehead against yours. “You need to go to sleep, You’ve got a busy day tomorrow.” Your eyes were closed but you could feel his brows furrow. “I’m sorry I kept you out so late.”

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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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bookgal13  asked:

How about Jamie and Claire take Manhattan (mid-20th century AU)?

We Live For Love

Two hours into their first rehearsal, Jamie Fraser asked Claire Beauchamp for a break.

Ever since he had shuffled out of The Broch and shrugged his shoulders against the cold wind pushing toward the East River, heading to catch the IRT back downtown, his mind had been swirling.

At this time yesterday he had been ironing his jeans, dreaming of taking the stage at Madison Square Garden. Standing by the side of some faceless frontman whose wails matched those of his guitar.

Now he was sweating in a third-floor room of a run-down factory, in between the flophouses and Chinese restaurants which reminded him why he always steered clear of the Bowery, praying the electricity wouldn’t fry his only amp – and trying for the life of him to figure out how to coax Claire into sounding like a rock and roll star.

Claire looked from Jamie to Ian – sweating behind his drum kit – to Willie Coulter, another guy from The Broch who Ian had quickly pressed into service as a bassist.

“Sure – I don’t mind if you guys smoke. But I could use some lunch.”

Willie set down his bass and Ian stood, stretching. “Want us to bring you something? I gotta take a walk.”

“The Chinese place two doors down has good lo mein. I’ll pay you back.”

“Get me one, too?” Jamie met Ian’s eyes in silent understanding. “And a Coke?”

“Sure.” Willie nodded, and soon his and Ian’s footsteps echoed in the stairwell.

Jamie shifted his guitar and turned to face Claire. She was perched on a high stool – just like she had been last night – pursing her lips.

“Look – you got a gorgeous voice, Claire.”

“I hear a ‘but’ coming,” she sighed.

He licked his lips. “But you can’t just sing like you’re on a Broadway stage, or in a cabaret. Your voice is too thin above the music that way. It’ll get lost. And you *can’t* get overpowered by the music.”

“I’m not overpowered – ”

“It’s not *you,* Claire!” He stepped a bit closer to her, feeling the ancient floorboards give a little. “Nothing is about you. It’s your *voice.* It’s about how you present your voice – it’s about your attitude. You have to really *feel* what the song is. To really *feel* the instruments – the rumble of the bass, the thump of the drums.”

She stood then, holding her ground. “I don’t want to yell or scream. I can’t lose my voice.”

“You won’t,” he promised. “I won’t let you. Look – you brought me here to help you. Let me help you.”

His eyes searched for hers, pleading. Willing her to understand what he was saying.

Wanting more than anything to establish that connection.

He launched into the opening riff of Blondie’s “Call Me” – the song they’d picked as the first to rehearse.

“One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight,” he counted, watching her. “One more! One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight – GO!”

“Color me your color, baby, color me your car,” she sang. “Color me your – ”

Abruptly he stopped. “No, Claire – no. You can’t just sway into it – it’s not supposed to be a smooth transition from note to note. That’s not how Debbie Harry does it – that’s not how you’ll do it. Make it choppier. Again.”

She frowned, nodded. Wanting to argue back – but willing to learn. Open to his advice.

Four bars – sixteen beats for the intro. He nodded her cue.

“Color me your color, baby – ”

Again he stopped. “No, Claire. Too much. Too choppy.”

She folded her arms over her chest. “Show me, then.”

“You’ve got to remember that this is a song about a gigolo, Claire. It’s not a nice topic. Put yourself in his shoes. ‘Color me your color, baby…’”

Then she tried it again.

“Closer. Getting there. You have to just let it out, Claire. Forget every fucking thing your fancy voice coaches ever taught you. Push yourself into it. Let that beautiful voice just GO.”

She looked like she wanted to say something – but then thought again. Steeled herself.

Holy God, she was a warrior.

He plucked the opening chords again – and then –


Her gorgeous soprano floated aggressively over his raw guitar. Ethereal.

“Keep going!” he yelled over the chord progression between the chorus and next verse. “You got this. Keep going!”

She smiled triumphantly. So radiant. And drew from some spirit dwelling deep within her, and sang her heart out.

“Come up off your color chart – I know where you’re coming from – Call me!”

“Call me!” Jamie echoed the backing vocal.

“On the line, call me, call me any, anytime. Call me!”

Her eyes locked with his.

“Call me!”

It happened then – a connection sparking between them. In an instant, he recognized himself in her. Saw his future in her.

“My love, you can call me any day or night. Call me!”

And from the stunned look in her eyes, she did as well.

They finished the song, transfixed in each other.

Shaking with adrenaline.

And woke to the enthusiastic whoops and whistles of Ian and Willie, arms weighed down with paper bags full of egg rolls and lo mein and fortune cookies.

By three o’clock they’d nailed down not just “Call Me,” but also a fun, rollicking version of John Cougar Mellencamp’s “I Need A Lover.” A more traditional rock song, but with much different timing and tempos than Blondie.

It wasn’t too difficult for Willie or Ian – but Claire was clearly exhausted. She was too stubborn to admit it, but the last thing Jamie wanted was for her to truly blow out her voice on their first day.

“Hey – let’s call it a day?” he suggested after they’d finished yet another run-through, watching Claire quietly lean against the stool for support. She had been on her feet since they’d finished lunch – rocking and lunging and strutting as she sang. Her voice – and, more importantly, her confidence – seemed to grow stronger and stronger with each song.

But there was such a thing as too much practice. And Jamie desperately wanted to get some time alone with her.

“Yeah, fine by me,” she agreed, bending over to take a sip from her Coke. “You guys OK with that? Will you be ready for Murtagh to visit in the morning?”

“Not a problem.” Willie was already packing up his bass, and Ian reached for the bag where he kept his drumsticks. “You OK, Claire? Want me to walk you to the subway?”

“We’re going to stay back a bit,” Jamie interrupted, slipping his guitar off his shoulder and nonchalantly unplugging his amp. “Want to pick another song for tomorrow. Three is always better than two.”

He turned back to Claire, who had climbed back up on the stool, watching the three men put away their instruments.

“I want to thank all of you,” she said quietly. Voice strong, but a bit subdued. Awed.

“Oh, it’s nothing, Claire,” Ian smiled back. “We’re happy to – ”

“With respect, Ian,” she interrupted, “You don’t understand. This is – I’ve waited for this day for so long. It’s a dream I’ve risked a lot for. And you’re helping make that dream come true. So thank you.”

Willie picked up his case and softly crossed the room to gently lay a hand on Claire’s shoulder.

“We’re not done yet – tomorrow’s another day.”

She smiled at him – suddenly looking so tired. “Indeed it is. See you here at ten sharp?”

Ian shrugged into his backpack, clapped Jamie on the shoulder, and once again the drummer and bassist for their still-unnamed band slipped out of the rehearsal space.

Jamie knelt to close his guitar case, then stood to face Claire.

How to keep her by his side now, for even a few more minutes? How to extend this indescribable, incredible day?

“You want to get a drink somewhere?” he heard himself say.

This time when she smiled, it went all the way to her eyes.

God, she was beautiful.



Blondie, “Call Me”:

John Mellencamp, “I Need A Lover”:

Demon Dean Part 1 of 2

Title: Demon Dean Part 1 of 2

Pairings: Demon Dean x Reader, Sam

Summary:  Dean is a demon and Sam and Reader, Dean’s girlfriend are looking for him, to bring him back. Reader finds him and he’s not at all what she remembers.

Word count: 2 270

Warnings: Smut: Fingering, dirty talk, unprotected sex, a bit of rough sex, injured reader, Angst

You can find my masterlist here

You and Sam had been looking for Dean for over a month without any luck. You knew he was a demon, because you had seen a tape from a store where he killed a demon and then for shorter than a second when he looked up towards the camera his eyes turned black. Sam had been talking to Crowley and he said Dean wasn’t possessed he was a demon because of the first blade and the mark. How could that happen? Everything lately had been going to hell.

As you and Sam sat in the bunkers library in front of your computers’ his phone beeped. You looked up and saw him frowning at the phone.

“I know what town Dean is in.”

“Let’s go.” You closed your computer and got up from the chair.

“I don’t know exactly where in the town he is.” He got up from the chair and followed you out of the library.

“I guess we have to split up to find him.”

“I don’t like that idea.” He looked at you with frown.

“If I find him I’ll call you and you’ll call me if you find him.” He agreed so you packed some stuff and went to the car to drive to Tulsa/Oklahoma.

When you came there you split up, Sam took the car and you rented one. You decided to look up the bars nearby, he would most certainly be in one of those at least you hoped he would be. He loved bars and you were pretty sure that he being a demon wouldn’t change that.

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An anecdote from Harpo Marx, from his book Harpo Speaks!

Hollywood, 1931:
My little bungalow in the Garden of Allah was a peaceful retreat. It was the best place to practice (harp) I ever had–until a piano player moved into a bungalow across from mine and shattered the peace.

I was looking forward to a solid weekend of practice, without interruptions, when my new neighbor started to bang away. I couldn’t hear anything below a forte on the harp. There were no signs the piano banging was going to stop. It only got more overpowering. This character was warming up for a solid weekend of practice too.

I went to the office to register a complaint. One of us had to go, I said, and it wasn’t going to be me because I was there first. But the management didn’t see it my way. The new guest, whose playing was driving me nuts, was Sergei Rachmaninoff. They were not about to ask him to move.

I was flattered to have such a distinguished neighbor, but I still had to practice. So I got rid of him my own way.

I opened the door and all the windows in my place and began to play the first four bars of Rachmaninoff’s Prelude in C-sharp Minor, over and over, fortissimo. Two hours later my fingers were getting numb. But I didn’t let up, not until I heard a thunderous crash of notes from across the way, like the keyboard had been attacked with a pair of sledge hammers. Then there was silence.

This time it was Rachmaninoff who went to complain. He asked to be moved to another bungalow immediately, the farthest possible from that dreadful harpist. Peace returned to the Garden.

I didn’t really know until much later how sharp my intuition had been. I found out the great pianist and composer detested his Prelude in C-sharp Minor. He considered it a very Minor piece of work. He was haunted by it everywhere he went, by students who butchered it and by audiences who clamored for it, and he wished he’d never written it. After playing the damned thing nonstop for two hours I knew exactly how he felt.

Marauders life as hamilton songs

(not the entire song fits every time but the meaning behind it or the situation does)

- wait for it: Sirius Black trying to regain his life purpose and to learn how to live again (close to the time he finally escaped from Azkaban)

- it’s quite up town: Sirius and Remus learning how to live without James and Lily (i know this song is about a child but I just see them at Grimmauld place all those years later finally dealing with the unimaginable and forgive and help each other)

- helpless: Lily Evans finally falling for James and admits how it was so sudden and feeling over the top and plainly helpless

- the story of tonight: the four marauders in a bar celebrating the end of school and their joint decision to fight for revolution

- the story of tonight (reprise): this one needs no explanation, the four marauders at James wedding celebrating his last night of freedom (and joke about their death…)

- burn: Remus Lupin breaking down after discovering Sirius’s betray. He burns everything he has of his. Listen to the words the pain and disappointment and anger are perfect for the situation (though in the song its about cheating but still)

- dear Theodosia: James potter starstruck over Harry while he is asleep. So very proud of his child and very excited to become a dad. And just all the hopes he has for his kid.

- the world was wide enough: Peter’s betrayal and than the pain and regret he feels and his explanation of how he became the villain in the story. The emotion in the song is so perfect for this.

- history has it’s eyes on you: i imagine Moody for some reasons standing in front of the marauders whilegiving them a pep talk (or actually more of a warning), just as they are about to go into a battle.

- cabinet battle ½ : if this isn’t about James and Snape trash talking in school and later on Sirius and Snape (or even Molly) trash talking while fighting over order decisions I don’t know what is

- my shot: James cant stop talking about how excited he is to fight for what he believes in and joins the order while convincing his friends to join as well and getting them all pumped up (and Burr is probably Lily that is like guys calm down your'e right but it’s not a party you know…)

There is so many more OH My GOD i’m literally non stop

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:

Luck- Part 1

Y/N and her best friend, Mia, win a trip to spend a week with the boys from 5 Seconds of Summer. The more time that Y/N spends with Luke, the more she realizes that she has feelings for him. But does he have feelings for her? 

Your “There! I see our names!” your friend, Mia said, pointing directly in front of her.

Looking over you saw a middle aged woman holding a sign with both of your names on it. Grabbing your bag from off the floor, you threw it over your shoulder, while putting your oversized Kate Spade purse on next.

The two of you walked over to the woman, who smiled as you approached. Her shoulder length brown hair was straight and she had just the right amount of makeup to bring out the features of her face. She was dressed in skinny jeans and a white loose fitting tank top. The pair of wedges that she wore made her taller and you had to look up at her as you approached.

“You must be Y/N and Mia,’ the woman said, her green eyes bright. “I’m Caroline.”

Nodding your head, you and Mia took turns introducing yourselves to Caroline.

“You guys must be so excited. I know the boys are!” Caroline said, turning to walk towards the exit.

You and Mia followed behind her as you walked towards the front of the airport. There were crowds of people everywhere. Somewhere leaving to go on trips while others were coming back. The sound of people laughing and talking filled the airport.

Leaving the cool air behind you, you emerged into the sweltering heat. The sun was bright and you had to squint your eyes, not yet used to it. Even if shorts and a tank top you were hot.  

Caroline walked towards the black BMW that was parked directly in front of the three of you. You and Mia followed and placed your bags inside the trunk that Caroline had opened. Slamming the trunk closed, you climbed into the backseat with Mia besides you.

Caroline turned the air conditioner on full blast before taking a final look in the rearview and pulled out into the busy airport traffic.

The drive from the airport to the house would have been quick and easy but the traffic made it painful. On any other day, you wouldn’t have minded the traffic but today was different. You just wanted to arrive to your destination, excited for what was in store.

Finally, after an hour you made it to the house. There was a iron gate blocking the driveway and it opened when Caroline entered a code into the call box.

The medium sized white house was set back from the road just enough that it was hard to be seen through the fence and trees surrounding it. It was two stories high with white siding and blue shutters. There was a basketball hoop in the driveway with an abandoned basketball lying next to it.

It was here. The moment you had been waiting for. Waiting almost three months for. Living with the boys from 5 Seconds of Summer for a whole week. Six nights and seven days.

You had won a contest that invited you to live the boys for the week. You never won anything. When you had gotten the call you had thought you were being pranked. But it was real. After you had lost your mind you had phoned Mia to tell her the good news. The contest allowed you to take one friend and of course you had chosen Mia.  

“Welcome to your home for the next week!” Caroline said, gesturing towards the house.

You looked over at Mia who gave you a reassuring smile. Opening the stepped back out in the hot summer heat. You followed Caroline to the trunk of the car and grabbed your bag, placing it on your right shoulder.

You heard the front door open and close followed by four Australian accents chatting loudly. They smiled as they approached and suddenly you felt yourself become nervous.

The four boys came to a stop next to you and immediately Ashton went for a quick hug.

“Welcome,” he said. “I’m Ashton.”

“I’m Y/N,” you said. “And that’s Mia.”

Ashton introduced the rest of the boys who gave you a small wave. Luke’s eyes lingered on moment too long and you turned away, feeling your cheeks turn a slight shade of red. You looked around at the others but no one else seemed to notice.

“Let me carry your bag,” Ashton said, taking your bag off your shoulder.

Calum carried Mia’s and the of you followed them into the house with Luke and Michael right behind you.

Ashton placed your bag at the foot of the stairs and you laid your purse next to it. Your first thought was that the house was clean for four boys living together.

Looking around, you could tell that the house was medium sized but large enough to accommodate the six of you. To the left was the living room with a good sized couch and the boys guitars all lined up perfectly in their stands. To the right was the dining room with a table that was big enough for all of you. Directly in front of you, was the kitchen. There was a large fridge and an island with a bar in the middle. There were four bar stools lined up against it.

You followed Ashton into the kitchen where he pulled out two water bottles for you and Mia. Thanking him, you took it out of his hand and drank half of the bottle, not realizing how thirsty you were.

“Do you guys like pizza?” Calum asked.

You and Mia nodded. “Who doesn’t like pizza?” Mia asked.

Calum laughed. “Good point. Any specific toppings?”

Shaking your head, Calum nodded and pulled his phone out of his pocket, ordering the pizza.

“Luke and I will show you where your room is,” Ashton said.

Mia and you followed Ashton and Luke out of the kitchen and up the stairs. Ashton had stopped to pick up Mia’s bag and Luke picked up yours.  

At the top of the stairs, Aston gestured to the left and pointed out the two rooms, identifying them as Luke’s room and across the hall Calum’s room. Directly in front of you, was Michael’s room and to the right was Ashton’s room. Across the hall from his room, was your and Mia’s room.

Following Ashton and Luke into the room, the boys set your bags down on the bed before turning around to face you and Mia.

Your eyes met with Luke’s blue ones and he gave you a friendly smile, turning a slight shade of red in the process.

“Do you girls need anything?” Ashton asked.

You shook your head as the boys headed towards the door. Luke gave you a final look before the closing the door behind him.

Your room was a decent size. There were two dressers on opposite walls with a king size bed taking up the majority of the floor space. On either side of the bed was a night stand both with matching lamps on them. There was also a huge walk in closet that was connected to your own bathroom. You had never seen a bathroom this big. The bath was the size of a jacuzzi and there was a huge shower that could probably fit at least all four grown adults comfortably.  The counter space was endless. There were two counters on parallel walls both with their own sink.

“Luke was totally checking you out!” Mia said as soon as the door was shut.

“Shut up! No he wasn’t!” you shot back, feeling your cheeks turn pink. However, you were completely ok with this since Luke was your favorite member of the group and Mia knew that.  

“Y/N, I’m serious!” Mia said, dropping a pile of clothes into one of the dresser drawers.

You shook your head and unzipped your travel bag, unpacking your clothes into the large walk in closet. Mia and you unpacked your belongs in a comfortable silence, with the occasional laugh coming from downstairs from the boys. As soon as you pulled the last shirt out of your bag, the doorbell rang. You immediately heard the boys cheer and one of them race to the door.

When the door slam close, the two of you headed back down the stairs to join the boys. Walking into the kitchen, you immediately noticed three boxes of pizza sitting on the kitchen table.

The door slammed close and Calum called everyone to the kitchen. When you walked in, you immediately noticed three boxes of pizza sitting on the kitchen table and the smell of cheese and pepperoni made your mouth water.

Luke was grabbing a slice of pizza when you walked over. He offered you the plate that you were holding and you graciously took it.

“Thank you,” you said, smiling.

“Your welcome,” Luke said, his strong Australian accent making you weak.

You followed Luke into the family room, where the rest of the boys were settled on the couch, arguing over what to watch.

“You guys wanna watch a movie?” Mike asked you.

Nodding your head, you sat down on the floor, next to the coffee table. Luke was sitting on the other side and smiled at you. Mia sat down on the couch next to Ashton.

“Let’s move the coffee table for more room,” Luke suggested.

Together Luke and Michael moved table to the other side of the room. Ashton handed you and Luke your own pillows so that the two of you could lay on the floor. You placed the pillow in front of the couch and laid down with Luke laying next to you.

Somehow during the first movie, you and Luke ended lying close to each other. His leg was touching his and his hand kept brushing yours. As you went to pull your hand away, he whispered, “You don’t have to move it.” His blue eyes met yours as you smiled as left your hand where it was.

xaniluv  asked:

Where would you suggest for us GTA babies to go free styling? Is it better to go in groups or singles?

Hey girl,

I suggest only going with one other person. Three’s a crowd.

Wherever you go, please sit at the bar!
Dress sexy, sit straight and order a drink.


One Restaurant at Hazelton Hotel
D|Bar at Four Seasons Hotel
Kasa Moto Restaurant
Hemingways (more casual)
The Living Room at Windsor Arms Hotel
(The owner loves him some black women😉)
STK (Good place to find the young and rich)
Sassafras (Pretentious women too, beware🙄)

Everywhere else:
Happy hour hubs (4:30pm-9/10pm)

Bymark & Duke of Devon (Located in TD Center)
Duke of Westminster
Earl’s (King St)
Harbord Room
Drake One Fifty
Cactus Club
Bier Markt
Irish Embassy
Le Petit Castor
Pravda Vodka Bar
The Spoke Club
The Chase (pretentious and expensive)
Ceili Cottage
Soho House Toronto
Ki Japanese Restaurant (the best!)
Red’s Wine Tavern (if Cactus Club is dry or full)
Speakeasy 21
Acko Lounge
America Lounge at Trump Hotel
Calvin Bar at Trump Hotel
1812 Bar at Thompson Hotel
Bosk Bar at Shangria-La Hotel
The Library Bar at Royal York Hotel
TOCA at Ritz-Carleton Hotel
Tellers Bar & Lounge at One King West Hotel
Brassaii, EFS, and Wildflower (Night clubs)
Cabana Pool Bar (young and rich)

Also the top floor bar at the Park Hyatt Hotel

You are most welcome!

Fluffy please? - @chaos-and-the-calm67 is about to love me so much right now. This is considered part 2 of A Fan Of What? Click that to read part 1. The song in this fic is “Straight Up” by Paula Abdul. Enjoy! YOU’RE WELCOME.

A Fan Of What? Part 2

After your terrible shift at work, you went home and changed quickly, as your friends had asked if you wanted to go out to a karaoke bar with them. You were quick to accept the invitation after the day you had dealt with, and you spent no  time getting dolled up for the occasion.

Once you had parked outside the bar, you were already thinking about what song you were going to sing tonight. When you approached your friends outside the bar, the four of you walked in and you straightened your rather short dress and made sure your hair was okay. You were known to meet quite the handsome men here and you wanted to be prepared.

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