i feel so proud of myself for this coloring it took me hours last night

Sick of Losing You

Plot: Harry and Y/N lost each other when he found someone else.

Warnings: None aside that it kinda broke my heart.

Playlist to the one shot: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL2S-tehb1XqDqkmE4xnz7-SciJy61soVf

Thanks to @interfectorems for being such a good friend, supporter and for requesting this. 
Songs that are mentioned but not on the playlist are “Out of the Woods” by Taylor Swift & “If You don’t Know” by 5Sos.

Pic of this beauty isn’t mine.

I watched from a far how he held on to her hand, his fingers grasping and squeezing hers gently while his eyes never left her pretty face. He watched her speak with such an intensity in his green eyes, as if he literally saw nothing other than her. His girlfriend. Not me.
I took a deep breath, swallowed the thick lump building in my throat and turned away from the sight.
Exactly three weeks ago, Harry and I had shared a kiss. Our first kiss, which had been exactly how I’d secretly always wished for it to be. Of course it had been. Every time you get to kiss the person you love is special and like fireworks painting colors into the sky.

He’d been talking and listening to me all night, similar to how he now was with her and had at some point reached out to hold my hand, just like he was holding hers in this moment.
When the time felt right, he’d leant in and had captured my lips with his. Needless to say, Harry was a phenomenal kisser. He knew when to press further, when to use how much tongue and was very attentive to how my body responded to his. Whenever I thought about it now, my cheeks tingled with the memory of his hands cupping them gently as he cradled my face to keep me close. He’d been so soft, so perfect. Harry had touched me with a tenderness, I thought it’d break my heart. I remembered wrapping my arms around his neck and feeling like they belonged there, like I was meant to hold him close.
Only that I wasn’t. The girl he was with now only proved how insignificant I was.

I couldn’t help peaking and looking over at him again. Harry’s lips. I knew exactly how they felt when pressed against my own, knew their taste and shape. Their warmth. Harry’s touch was impossible to forget.
I watched him kiss his girlfriend with a mesmerized stare, before moving away and into the kitchen, leaving the small gathering of our friends with a murmured excuse that I needed to get a refill of my drink, when in reality I couldn’t bear seeing the man I loved sharing affectionate kisses with someone else.
But not even the kitchen was a safe area for me. t had been this exact kitchen, the one in Harry’s house, where he’d pulled me aside and told me about her for the first time.

“It’s difficult” I think he said. “It’s my fault that this situation has become so messy.”

Was it silly that I could actually still remember every word he spoke to me? That I’d engraved every pause, every take in of breath he made, deeply into my head?

“Listen, Y/N… You’re important to me. I care about you. Need you, it’s just… There is someone. Someone who could be a chance for a relationship and I really want to give this a go. Give her a go, I mean. You can understand that, right?”

At first it’d felt like none of it was real. Because how could he be serious?
Harry. My best friend, Harry.
Only three days after our magical first kiss, three days full of us talking and flirting and texting constantly, he was telling me that he wanted someone else. Her name was Ira. And though he was seemingly behaving the same way with her he had been with me, we weren’t the same. In fact, she was everything I wasn’t. So when he told me he wanted her and not me, that he was picking her over of me, how come I’d been surprised?

I would never be his first choice, not when there were thousands of others he could choose from. And it was time for my brain to learn to not interpret every kind gesture, time to learn to stop overthinking every word. It was time for my head to accept, that there was no way Harry Styles could possibly want me.

So… I had been understanding. Kind even.
I’d lied and told him that yes, I agreed that our kiss had been a mistake. We shouldn’t have done any of that and instead thought of our friendship first, rather than our impulses. I’d kept a smile on my face throughout the entire talk and even finished the short chat by wishing him good luck with her. Another lie.

My fingers shook and so I set the empty glass of my drink down quickly, worried for a moment that I might otherwise spill the last few drops. I didn’t think much when I reached for the bottle of vodka on the counter. There was no getting through this night if I didn’t have something proper to drink. If only I remembered the recipe….

“Need help?”

My shoulders tensed. It couldn’t be him. Please… anyone, literally anyone, but him.

However when I turned around, Harry was there. He stood tall and beautiful, his short hair soft and wavy. Harry’s compelling eyes held my gaze with such a tender rawness in them, my knees weakened. All my body burned for was to wrap my arms around his shoulders and have him embrace me, have him tell me that everything would be okay again. I felt like I needed it, but knew that this was a wish I would be denied. Harry must have felt it, too. It was in the air around us. It had changed and… buzzed. As if being in each other’s presence made the world halt still for a moment.

“I’m sorry,” Harry chuckled lowly when I didn’t say anything. How could he smile like everything was alright?

And what was it he was apologizing for? Abandoning our friendship? Ruining any hope I’d had to find a partner in him? Shattering my heart? Hardly.

“For scaring you,” Harry elaborated, a sudden hint of guilt in his eyes, almost as if he’d read my thoughts.

“It’s fine, Harry,” I muttered, bearing a false smile, “All good.”

It was hard to look at him. Especially his eyes. They burned a whole into my chest whenever my own orbs found them. They reminded me of the Harry he once was, the one I could always come to and rely on.

“What are you doing?” Harry asked, his head nodding towards the bottle of vodka. His forehead furrowed in a worried expression and I quickly set the container back down.

“I wanted to make myself a drink, but the recipe slipped my mind. I’m not as much of an alcoholic as it must look like.”

“Good to know,” Harry chuckled, then, visibly thinking about it first, took a step forward. “I remember what you like in your favorite drink. Could make you one.”

From how close he was standing, it was easy to notice every detail of his skin. Every curve of his lips, every hair of his barely-there beard. My stomach turned.

“That’d be nice.”

Harry smiled and nodded. “Okay.”

We avoided any touching. I was leant against the counter, he stood with a safe distance between us and only came closer when he needed a different ingredient that happened to be near me. It was awkward and… weird. It didn’t feel like ‘us’. The friends we’d been once seemed to be two completely different people. I knew him and felt he was familiar, but there was a emotional distance between us I knew neither of us could overcome. And still, I was with him and even if we behaved like strangers, being with Harry was nice.

“I think that’s it,” Harry said, breaking the silence. His eyes were set on the pink-orange liquid in my glass, then they drifted to my face. A proud smile pulled at the corners of his mouth.

“You 'think’?” I challenged shyly.

I took the glass from him (cautious not to touch his fingers) and took a sip. It tasted great.

“M'not big of a show off,” Harry grinned, “S'it good?”

I nodded and stirred the colored liquid once more. “Thanks, Harry.”

“You’re welcome, Y/N.” His voice was soft and his gaze shy.

The air around us shifted once more. My eyes teared up. What had happened to us? Harry and I… we used to be the kind of friends who didn’t stopped talking to each other for hours. At first, we’d be loud. We’d laugh and giggle so much eventually both of our tummies hurt. That was when we’d change the subject and speak more quietly, until several hours later our conversations drifted to topics only we were allowed to hear. Then we’d be whispering and sitting closer together, always an eager sparkle in the other’s eyes as we both listened with interest about what was being said.

I quickly turned away and pretended to yawn. My eyes blinked rapidly and I willed them not to cry in front of him. Not because of embarrassment, but because I couldn’t do that to him. I’d given him my okay. I had no right to be mad at him for having found someone else. Harry remained standing close and with his hands in the front pockets of his black jeans.

“I think I should go,” I muttered.

I held my head low and took a deep breath before looking at him briefly. Harry’s eyes held concern and his fingers twitched, as if he longed to reach out for me.

“Y/N, love,” he began lowly, “Do you think we could talk for a bit? S'been a while since I got to see you. Hear your voice. I missed you.”

This time when my eyes met his green orbs, I didn’t look away, even though I could feel the tears forming and coming closer to spilling over. Harry’s whole expression changed. His cheeks paled and his forehead furrowed deeper.

“I miss you, too, Harry,” I admitted, my weak voice barely above a whisper.

“No,” he mumbled, shaking his head slowly, sorrow deeply set in his eyes. His feet stepped closer and his warm hands touched my flushed cheeks before I even had the chance to back away from him. The unexpected closeness caught me off guard and had more tears coming, this time because of how much I hated how uncommon this sort of care from him had become.

Harry embraced me. His head buried itself into my neck and both arms wrapped themselves around my waist so he could lift me up from my feet. “Please no, Y/N, Sweetheart. Don’t cry.”

I couldn’t help it. My heart, the final bit that had been whole still, broke in his caring hands and I was overcome and pulled under a wave of grief. That was what I was doing. I was grieving our friendship and the lost hope I’d had for a relationship with him. And he allowed it. He let me cry against his collarbones without any complaint and instead began to hum quietly, knowing how much his voice always soothed me. Pain shot through my chest. He probably did the same when she was upset.

“I can’t-” I cried, but got cut off by my lungs that burned with need for air.

Harry hushed me, his hold tightening, “Don’t, Y/N. It’s going to be alright.”

I shook my head and loosened the hold I’d taken around his neck. My hands momentarily brushed his soft hair, then I pulled away. Harry hesitated but allowed me to step out of his hold.

“I can’t take it anymore, Harry,” I confessed, my voice breaking halfway through the sentence. I reached up to brush my cheeks with the end of my sleeve and hiccuped. My head felt numb and I knew if I didn’t get out of this kitchen soon, he’d witness a break down I wasn’t comfortable with him seeing.

Harry’s hand reached for my arm. I didn’t fight it when he pulled me closer to him, but avoided his eyes when he leaned down to find my gaze.

“Y/N,” he spoke, his voice rough with emotion, “I promise you, it’ll be alright. M'not leaving, okay? M'not. We’ll figure this out.”

I wanted to scream but all I could was shake my head rapidly. “Figure this out how? What have we become, Harry?”

Another sob wrecked through my chest.

“I don’t know,” he confessed, “But we’re going to find each other again, okay? I promise. Let me say goodbye to the others and then we’ll go for a walk or something. We’ll talk. About everything and nothing at all… Just like we always used to, yeah?”

Used to. So long ago, it seemed.

“Okay,” I whispered, my burning eyes set on my feet. My skin shivered under his warmth and my lips hurt from how much I was bitting them.

I flinched when his mouth pressed a kiss to my head. The skin was left with a burning sensation. “Wait for me here, love.”

Harry’s quick feet carried him out of the kitchen and left me standing by the counter with my heart at the pit of my stomach. I stood up straight and brushed the few remaining tears from my cheeks. My skin tingled and I felt the hint of a smile on my lips, even though my body ached.
Looking back now, I wish I would have stayed put by the counter and had waited for him just like he’d asked me to. I wish I hadn’t been impatient and eager to reunite with Harry, because that eagerness drove me to exit the kitchen shortly after him and turn the corner, allowing me clear view into the living room.
There he stood. His arms around her thin form, his hands in her long hair and his lips kissing hers. All air was knocked right out of me. I could see how his hands gently moved against her neck, bringing her in closer and their bodies flush together. When their lips parted for a moment, I could see how he let his tongue run along his lower lip, as if he wanted to make sure he got all of her taste. And I could see him smile warmly at her, right before he leaned back in to connect their mouths once more. This sight… it burned.
I didn’t wait for him. Because I had been wrong before. My heart wasn’t truly broken until that moment, witnessing the man I loved with my everything, kissing a woman who wasn’t me. And if he wasn’t going to leave me, if he was just going to keep me close and allow my heart to shatter over and over again, then I supposed I would have to be the one to go first.
So that’s what I did. I walked back to the entryway, slid on my jacket, picked up my bag, and left the house. Left, to never come back to Harry Styles.

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PART 3!!!

Surprise I wanted to put it up now. Sorry I know it’s late a pretty lame update and it hecka sucks but #4 is about to be great. Love you guys!

Rating: PG maybe

It was impossible to sleep that night. The reveal of my art piece was approaching quickly and my nerves were catching up to me.

I got a text from my mum first thing in the morning saying she was so proud and excited to see me. I had picked out what I was going to wear weeks ago.

The black dress hug my porcelain curves, the red lipstick I boldly chose matches my red shoes and hang back.

I felt like I was going to something as significant as the Grammys. My dark hair falling in perfect ringlets as I curl it.

I arrived at the studio early, much earlier than required. I observed the blank space on the wall that would soon hold my masterpiece.

Artwork that I’ve tried to express multiple times in my teenage years but just finally was able to do.

My parents are the first to show up. They race to hug me.

I introduce them to the owner of the art gallery who I met while sketching at a coffee shop. My artwork caught his eye and he said he wanted to see more. I want to say it is because he liked my work more than the fact I was drawing a nude woman.

Many strangers show up. Already with still a half hour left until we start, there is a much bigger turnout than I expected.

The art covered walls feeling much closer together as my nervousness increases.

Calum, Ashton and Michael all show up. Michel brings a girl who I do not recognize.

“Is my art reveal the place you bring a girl on a first date?” I question as the blond wanders away to look at the other art pieces.

“Well I get major props for knowing the artist.” Michael bumps me.

I grin and look at all of them. They are all dressed up, meaning they are wearing button ups. Sure michaels is only half tucked in and calum is wearing blue jeans but it’s really the effort that counts.

“It really means a lot that you guys are here.” I smile at them.

“Aww!” Ashton squeals like a girl before hugging me.

“Have you guys heard from Luke?” I ask nonchalantly.

They shake their heads. I brush it off, I’m sure he is on his way.

When the owner starts calling for everyone to gather together I glance at the door one more, waiting for Luke to make one of his last minute entrances.

I make my way up to the front, while I was chatting with people I didn’t notice them put up my painting. It is covered by a thin cloth so no one can see it.

I glance down at my phone. There is a text from Luke:

Finally couldn’t put off taking ‘A’ out to dinner any longer. Wanna hang after?

I swear I could literally feel my heart being smashed. All of the pieces tearing through my body, desperate to find their way back together. But they were too lost.

He had forgotten and her again Arzaylea got what she wanted. On the night that was supposed to be mine.

I know if he had remembered he would have been the first person here. He would have wanted to come out to dinner with my parent and I after and he would have calmed my nerves before the show.

He wasn’t here, instead he was with her probably fighting.

I feel as I am about to cry. In front of all of these people. Everyone is looking at me, am I crying and not noticing it.

The one say I do decide to wear make up of course I would ruin it.

The owner says my name and I realized he was speaking to me.

“I’m so sorry. what?” I ask.

“Nerves seem to get the best of these young people.” He makes a joke. Many people laugh and I pull together my best smile.

“Why don’t you uncover your piece when you are ready and tell us about it.” He says.

My eyes scan the faces of the room once more. Hoping Luke remembered and snuck in without me noticing. I’m yet again let down.

The thing is I’m not even mad. I’m just so incredibly hurt, this was one of the most important nights of my life and he promised.

I slowly remove the barrier and everyone claps before pulling out their cameras. My mother has been filming since she got here.

“I want to catch my baby girls big moment.” Her words ring through my head.

“It took me a really long time to think of a name for this piece. Eventually I just went with ‘Air’.” I say. “It is painted with oil based paints. To me it represents freedom and individuality.”

My painting has a silhouette girl who is off centered next to a house. It is a pallet of colors. She is holding on to a bunch of balloons that I like to are pulling her up, wherever she wants.

The small room that recently seemed so full suddenly seems so empty. One of the only people I wanted to be here celebrating wasn’t.

I try to swallow back the tears of sadness the blur my vision. One single drop wins the battle as it slides down my cheek, the rest of its arm fallows in its quick descent down my face.

“There is a reason I wants the girl to remain identity less. Because I do think of this as a self portrait but adding something like skin color or hair color could ruin the illusion that this could be any other woman out there. Those fighting for freedom, equality.” My voice cracks as I continue to cry.

My mothers eyes mirror mine, smiling as proud and happy emotions stroll from her eyes.

“Those fighting for love. I wanted this to be a painting that could be looked at and see from so many different perspectives and points of view. See yourself in my work. I do this for the world.” I finish my speech.

The audience stars applauding and as much as I feel it’s impossible I muster up a smile.

“Wow. It is very phenomenal that this piece means this much to you. And it is only through true emotion like this do we find success and beauty in one’s art.” The owner of the gallery starts another round of applause.

I think them all, excusing myself to get some air.

On a day that is suppose to be about me I would ruin it crying over some boy. I painted the girl to be me but I don’t feel half as strong or beautiful as I want people to feel when they look at it.

I’m joined outside by Calum. I wipe my eyes and smile at him.

At least people think I’m crying for a different reason.

He pulls me in for a hug, rubbing my back.

“I’m sorry he wasn’t here today.” He says.

The waterworks start all over again. We pull away from each other i try to conceal myself but I can’t.

He already knows anyways. Everyone knows that I’m so in love with Luke. Everyone but Luke.

“I don’t know why I’m letting him get to me like his.” I rub my face, a lot of my makeup coming off with it.

“He said he would be here. It’s not right and you have every right to be upset. It’s not fair. He is supposed to be here.” Calum says.

I wonder if he knows where Luke actually is.

“Yeah well he has other obligations. Like a girlfriend who he is with right now.” I say.

The surprise etched in his face shows me he didn’t.

“He is with Arzaylea? What? 10 times out of 10 he would rather be with you.” Calum says.

“That’s not true.” I shake my head. Luke and I do have the best fun together but there is something about being in a relationship with someone. You want to be with them all the time.

That’s how I’ve always felt about Luke except we aren’t in a relationship.

“They just fight a lot. I’m scared sometimes he is unhappy but then there is days like this where he forgets about me because he is with her.” I wipe the unders of my eyes.

“I don’t think he ever stops thinking about you.” Calum says quietly. “Do you ever think the reason Luke is so unhappy with Arzaylea is because she isn’t the one he wants to be with.”

Calum seems like he is almost trying to hint something.

“What? What are you saying?” I squint at him through my tears.

“Oh my gosh. You are both so blind. He likes you, as more than a friend.” Calum rolls his eyes.

I shake my head in disbelief “Luke doesn’t think of me that way. I’m nothing more than a friend to him.” My soul breaks as I say that.

More and more these days being with Luke seems to not even be possible. Like a dream I need to give up on.

“Drunk Luke can’t keep a secret from Calum.” Calum speaks of himself which makes me laugh.

I still don’t know if I believe what he is saying.

But what if he is right. All those times I’ve caught Luke staring at me isn’t because he is spacing out. When he tries to make me laugh with horrible jokes or pays attention to me over his girlfriend.

Maybe Calum is right.

I don’t know if I have enough willpower to find out though.


Pinky Promise (pt. 1 of my Le Duo verse)

Pairing(s): Luke Evans/Josh Gad

Summary: Luke isn’t intimidated by a simple babysitting gig, okay? He really isn’t. He’s performed live in front of massive audiences on West End and seen his face on the big screen all around the world. Needless to say, he’s definitely not scared of some little girls. Especially not Josh Gad’s adorable little girls. Nope, not scared at all.


The front door is pretty average; tall and sturdy and probably a little expensive, but plain. Certainly nothing to be intimidated by. Except that Luke knows the man of his dreams is just behind that door. And with him, his beautiful wife and two daughters. God, he really should just turn around and feign some deadly illness because the whole situation is too absurd.

When Josh had asked him for a favor, Luke had foolishly agreed without knowing anything, jumping at any opportunity to please like an overeager puppy. He hadn’t realized that the favor would involve going just long enough without seeing Josh to make Luke really miss him and then sleeping over at Josh’s house with the two most important little people in his friend’s life. It was all a giant domestic tease that Luke wasn’t sure he could handle.

Luke never thought that he would be trying to get into Gaston’s headspace outside of shooting Beauty and the Beast (because really, who would willingly put themselves in that guy’s headspace for any other reason?), but he found himself taking out his phone and pulling up the camera app, trying to let courage show through his eyes on the screen as he channeled his character’s outrageous self-confidence.

“You are Luke Evans, and you are clever, kind, and incredibly fun to be around. You are the perfect babysitter, and you have noth
ing to worry about.”

He cocked an eyebrow for effect, starting to feel even less self-assured at how silly he looked, when he heard the door unlatch. He immediately shoved his phone in his pocket and felt heat rising to his cheeks as the door swung open and he looked up into Josh’s amused eyes.

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Throwing Cellphones

                                 Feliciano gets himself a sugar daddy

Warning: This chapter has slight nsfw, slight kinky stuff, and some other…sad stuff.

Once again I remind that I update Throwing Cellphones…very late into Monday, but it’s Monday none the less

Chapter 1 I Chapter 2 I Chapter 3 I Chapter 4 I Chapter 5

                                                     Chapter 6

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With the Tuans - Mark

At the age of sixteen, my parents filed for divorce. My father remarried and I lived under the care of my single mother. Two years after, she told me she was ready to start a new life. I was happy for her, but not for long when she told me I wasn’t part of that life. Because I soon turned eighteen, she abandoned me. One day she told me to pack all my belongings and dropped me off at one of her friend’s home. She didn’t say much. Just that I will be in good hands and that I should never look for her. What could I have said at that age?

I think about it now at twenty-one and rather than mad, I feel sorry for myself. I have no one. If you count the Tuans, then sure, but even they don’t come close. There will always be that emptiness that only a family can fill.

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He Goes 0-100 For This Sugar Baby, Real Quick

The best part of being unemployed is how the meaning of time changes. You no longer have to schedule your life around your 9-5. If you want to start being productive at 5 am or 11 pm you can. You don’t have to do what someone else wants, makes someone else rich. The day, every day, is yours.

I’d woken later than usual the morning after my date but not so late that I couldn’t text Bentley good morning. We exchanged pleasantries. He told me his plans for the day. I told him mine. He asked if I’d be free in the early evening for a trip to the art supply store and use the gift card he’d given me. The day was mine and I had a long list of things to accomplish but I thought I’d be able to get it all done, especially if art supplies were my reward. I rolled out of bed and got my day started.

He’d said over dinner that if I was with him when I used my gift card he would handle any thing that I wanted but the card didn’t cover. He reiterated that promise in the car and then again as we stood in the aisle contemplating fan brushes. I’d made a small list of things that I needed but that quickly went out the window. He kept pointing out things that he thought were interesting or wanted to know the use of. He kept adding to the cart things that he thought I should have. What started out as a small list turned into multiple trips to the cashier to ask them to hold the more unwieldy items as we continued to shop. I had fun. I laughed. I learned more about him. I kept, under his encouraging eye, adding more to our basket.

We left the art supply store with three bags, one so large that it couldn’t fit in his trunk. But he wasn’t done. We had dinner. Fried food in a seafood bar. Then as I lugged my grease filled body to his car, he mentioned the Apple store. I’d mentioned that on my list of things to get my business running were several Apple products but I was undecided on which was the best fit for me. Did I want to go to Apple and play with things? Of course, I did.

On the way there, he asked a lot of questions about the man I’d just left and about my views on relationships. I answered his questions honestly. I’d told him during our first date that I didn’t want him to be my sugar daddy and I’d meant it. I didn’t think we’d last long in those roles and I certainly didn’t think he’d have made his offer to invest in my business. I would date him. The same way I would any other man whose company I enjoyed.

I touched, doodled, deliberated, and finally decided which products would work best for me and proudly told him of this small accomplishment. He asked if I wanted to get them now. I can admit here that my brain short circuited. Wasn’t the money that he’d spent on art supplies enough? I can admit that his generosity made me a little uncomfortable. The idea that a man could make a gesture that grand for me, a woman he’d just met in person the night before, was a bit staggering. I felt guilt that I had no reason to feel. I tamped it down and said that yes, I would like to get them now and thanked him.

However, disappointment came quickly. The Apple store didn’t have the products I wanted in the colors that I wanted. The idea of going home with nothing was inconceivable so I switched colors. Bentley announced that he knew why I had done that. I wasn’t sure if he was still going to be around in the next few weeks and wanted to get what I could when I could. I looked him in the eye. “Where would you be going?” I deadpanned. “I thought we were having a great time”. He howled with laughter, wrapped an arm around me, and told me I could buy the store if I wanted. I would just take what was available, thank you.

That moment made me proud. There was a time where that would have been exactly what I was thinking. But now that I was more confident in my seductive style I wasn’t worried. If he decided to leave, there would be another man to replace him.

I left the Apple store with a MacBook and iPad Pro. I wanted the pencil but I’d have to order it online.

We wandered the mall contentedly and talked easily about barbecue, sweet tea, who made the best french fries, and life in the south. We stopped in Lush and it was similar to the art store. He had a great time pointing out things, talking, joking, laughing, and encouraging me to get whatever my heart desired. It was Lush so my heart desired practically everything in the store but I contained myself. Just because he was willing to buy in the beginning didn’t mean that I had to spend. But let’s not get confused. I did get a few things.

As we meandered out of the mall, I heard the comments. There had been stares all evening. I enjoy them or ignore them. They don’t ruin my good time. But hearing…words are different than stares and I’d wondered how I’d take them. “I guess that’s what a date the escort agency set up is like.” The comment came from a younger black girl. It surprised me. I loved and supported whatever decision a black woman chose for her life. Why wouldn’t they do the same for me? I had thought the hate would come first from a white woman. I was disappointed that I was wrong. If Bentley heard the comment, he didn’t let on. I assume he didn’t hear it. He doesn’t seem to be the type to let things slide despite his jovial attitude towards me.

I pushed the comment to the side easily. There is no shame in escorting. And I’d had a very enjoyable date. In a moment of smallness, I consoled myself with the fact that they hadn’t been gifted $3k technology and art supplies. They were just walking around the mall hating on people they didn’t know. They were no better or worse than me because of who I decided to date.

He took me home and I lugged all of my purchases inside. I sat surrounded by them stunned. In the moment, I didn’t think about anything but the items that I had just picked and how much fun they would be to call my own, how much easier life would be with them. But with the bags on the floor around me, the reality of the day hit me. A man had spent more on me in four hours than any man ever had. Was this real? Was this my life? Was this how things worked?

This couldn’t be real. I had struggled. Messed up. Been conceited for no reason. I had made a list of things that I needed to get my business going and then had watched as the man I thought was going to purchase them had left my life. Now just a few weeks later, half the list was sitting on my lap and at my feet. If there were sugar gods, maybe they were starting to see me.


I hummed to myself as I set the table, after making his favorite meal. I was looking forward to this night, our date. He had been coming home late for the last two years. I was so proud of my man for accomplishing and maximizing his brand for an IPO in Wall Street. He was already successful, selling multi-platinum albums, selling out tours and Madison Square Garden faster than MJ the legend, yes the Justin Bieber. He had talent, looks, and money why wouldn’t I fall in love with him. But it wasn’t his name I fell in love with or his fame, looks, or talent. It was his character, he cared so much. He was an enigma, he easily made an audience become instant believers as soon as his silver tongue began its magic, and boy would I know. Justin was always good with his mouth, whether it be singing, kissing, or talking.

Lately he has been on numerous business trips, out of the country all across the globe. He was a super busy man. It wasn’t always like this. He always made time for me, no matter how busy his schedule was because I was the love of his life and he was mine. We were inseparable. Never could keep our hands off of each other. Always having sex, both of our appetites for one another were insatiable. But once his record production merged he became busy, spending long hours either working or making music. He even had a little apartment made in the building that he would spend the night in from time to time. Leaving me alone in his—our big house, with our fancy cars, and our baby, Esther, the little teacup terrier he got me for our first Christmas as a married couple.

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Saving Lives pt. 5

Pairing: Baekhyun x Reader

Genre: series, doctor!baekhyun au, fluff, angst, smut (in later chapters)

Word Count: 1,724

Summary: You’re about to start your internship in Seoul’s most prestigious hospital but before you devote your whole life to medicine, you decide to have one more night of freedom, and meet someone you didn’t expect to meet again. (inspired by Grey’s Anatomy)

A/N: I know I said I would post every weekend and I know I didn’t post last weekend but I’m super stressed because of school. I don’t have the time I want to be able to write so frequently but I’m not giving up on this fic. I really love it and I know many of you do, too, so I’m going to try my best to post and write. I received some really nice comments so far and I want to make you all proud. Anyways I hope you like this chapter. ~admin L

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9

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Tell Me Something That I’ll Forget.

Rating: NC-17

Word Count: 11.5K+

Content: Bi!Lashton, polyamory (MFM dynamic), language, graphic content, sexual situations (anal sex, multiple partners, light spanking, orgasm denial, etc.)

A/N: I have returned and it feels so good to be back. This is something that I’ve been working on for quite some time, and it is notably different from what I’ve posted before. I had an idea of Chef Ashton and I’ve always wanted to explore polyamory within the bounds of fanfiction. This is what I came up with after about two months of messing around with it. Have an open mind if this is all new to you. Enjoy. :-)

Feedback is greatly appreciated

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Hard to Breathe

Warning: Bitty is trans. There’s no transphobia at all, but there may be some sensitive content regarding Bitty telling those around him. Be safe when choosing to read. <3


Being checked always knocks the breath right out of his lungs.

It always happens in slow motion; first the sharp whistle of skates coming toward him, too close, then the gust of cold air that blows into him just before a hard, heavy body does. Jack and he have been training, but he’s suspected that Jack holds back and this proves it — the guy that slams into him feels like he’s trying to raze Bitty right into the ground. Bitty lets out a loud noise, high-pitched and keening, as he’s forced right into the plexiglass and away from the puck Shitty’s just hit his way. He hits it with a thud, further compounded by the jolt of the other player’s momentum taking him forward, right into Bitty’s back.

Then there’s a whizzing noise just above his head, and suddenly his whole body caves inward, pushed down by the heavy weight above him. He doesn’t know what frightens him more — the screams and shouts of the crowd or the crystalline rainfall of plexiglass shattering over him in a thousand broken shards.


The day he’d told his mother was the best of his life, until he’d come to Samwell.

“Avery, honey, your breakfast is waitin’!”

He - because Bitty had always been he, even when he was she to everyone around him - walked down the stairs and into the kitchen. On the table was oatmeal with maple syrup his Mama had made him, just the way he liked it, set on a placemat with a glass of the apple juice only he drank next to it. It had been a morning where the baggiest t-shirt he owned was still too tight, and he remembers staring at the oatmeal and the juice and having a lump the size of a rock in his throat.

“You okay, sweetheart?” his Mama asked, flitting past but pausing to rest a hand on his shoulder.

He didn’t know when he’d started crying, but by the time his mother had moved to stand in front of him, his cheeks were soaked with tears.

“Whoa, baby, whoa, it’ll be okay.”

Nothing was okay — hadn’t ever been okay, not fully. He buried his face in her hair, smelling hairspray and perfume and the slight hint of syrup. He cried so hard he didn’t think he’d ever stop.

She rocked him side to side, like she had when he’d been sick as a child. “Mama will make it better, honey,” she said, and he wanted to believe her. More than anything, he wanted to believe it.

The breath he took made his chest ache.

“What if I don’t want to be Avery anymore?” he asked, and even as close as they were standing, he wasn’t sure it had been loud enough for her to hear.

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Love Online - Chapter 3

This is a continuation of Love Online. You can find Chapter 1 HERE and Chapter 2 HERE.  Thanks again to @booklvr4 for the original story prompt.  Enjoy!  


Tomorrow.  Tomorrow her world would change.  All of her hopes and dreams will converge, culminating into the form of Jamie Fraser.  Tomorrow she would begin the greatest adventure of her life with the man she loved.

She had stopped at a little cafe for lunch and caught herself tapping her nails on the table in a relentless rhythm.  She forced herself to stop, seeing the eyes of the other customers on her.

“Sorry,” she said apologetically to the couple next to her.

She had to calm down.  Why was she so nervous?  She loved him and he loved her.  Nothing really mattered other than that, did it?  But for some reason, she was frantic about meeting him.  

As she thought about it, she realized that she was actually worried about what he’d think of her.  A man that hot (and by his profile pic she knew he was) could get any woman he wants.

But he wants you, she told herself.  He said so.

This was ridiculous.  She was working herself up into hysterics for no reason.  The waiting was killing her.  

In an effort to calm her mind, she decided that she would take the rest of the day off.  She had done her rounds at the hospital that morning, and had planned to do her patient reports this afternoon, but with her current mindset, there was no way she could think clearly enough to do them.  

She decided to go browse the dress shops for something to wear on their all-important date.  She wanted something sophisticated, but also incredibly sexy.  She had often been told she had nice legs, so perhaps a short dress would be good, something mid-thigh.  Accentuate the positive, as they say. What color?  She didn’t want to go with black.  Everyone wore black.  She wanted to be distinctive.  She wanted him to look at her like no one else existed.  Red.  She always looked really good in red.  

Overwhelmed by all the wardrobe possibilities, she decided she needed to bring in reinforcements.  Picking up her phone, she dialed Jillian.


“Claire!  How are you, darling?”

“Nervous as hell.”

“Ah, the big date is tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah.  I’m shopping for a dress.  Help!”

“You’ve come to the right person.  Where are you?”

“Catherine’s on Dumbarton.”

“Ok.  Meet me at the cafe across the street in ten minutes.  Cao!”

Jillian arrived in short order and then took Claire to an exclusive shop a few blocks away.  Claire had never been in this shop, and she knew why.  

“Christ!  Is this price in pesos?  There’s no way that can be pounds!”

“I’m afraid it is, Claire.  Fashion comes at a price, my dear.  Besides, you’re a doctor, you have plenty of money.”

“No, I have plenty of school loans.  That is what I have.  If I was rich, do you really think I’d live in a one-bedroom flat the size of a matchbox?”

“It’s not that bad, Claire.”

“I know.  I’m just so nervous, Jill.  I’ve never got so worked up over anyone like this before.”

“Let’s find you something that will blow his mind.  Then perhaps, he’ll let you blow his…”

“Jillian!”  She exclaimed, laughing despite herself.

After looking around the shop for a good half hour, Claire finally found what she was looking for.

“Oh, Jill!  Look at this one!  Isn’t it divine?”

Jill looked at the short, red number and her eyes got wide.  “Claire!  It’s perfect!  Just the right amount of sex and class.  Try it on!”

Claire took the dress into the changing room.  She had never worn a dress quite this provocative before.  The skirt came right to mid-thigh.  The color was not just red, but a deep, rich crimson.  It had three-quarter length sleeves and a deep V neck, but not too deep, the edge skimming just off the shoulders.  The result was very elegant, tasteful, and drop dead sexy.

She came out of the changing room to show Jillian the dress.  Jillian squealed with excitement.

“Oh my God, Claire!  Yes!  That’s it!  He will explode at the first sight of you.”

“Jillian!  For God’s sake.  Is that all you can think about?” 

“It will be all *he* can think about when he sees you.”

“Is it too much?”

“Just enough, I’d say.  Ring it up!”

After making her purchase, she bid Jillian goodbye, assuring her friend that she was more than capable of finding shoes to wear with her dress.

“Call me and tell me EVERYTHING that happens tomorrow.  EVERYTHING!”  Jillian yelled out of the cab window.

Claire laughed as she headed down the street.

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My Boys: Better Days - Chapter 8

Hey Guys,

Since it took me a while to post the last chapter, I thought you guys deserved a faster update this time!

Here goes! thanks a lot @jia911 for the fantastic work!

My Boys: Better Days - Chapter 8

Owen slowly gained consciousness as he felt the soft touch of Amelia’s wet kisses on his jaw, waking him up from a deep sleep. Still with his eyes closed, he smiled lazily, enjoying the idle circles her fingers were drawing on his chest.

“Hey,” He turned his head to the side, finally opening his eyes to meet hers.

“Hi,” Amelia whispered when she moved her head closer to his, touching his nose with hers.

“How did you sleep?” Owen reached for her hair, gently pulling a lock off her wonderful face. He used his thumb to brush her skin gently, loving how delicate she felt to his touch.

“I had the best sleep I’ve had in weeks,” She confessed and moved one leg to the top of his hips, feeling Owen’s other hand immediately capture her naked thigh.

“You did?” He raised an eyebrow, too proud to hide it. Owen leaned in and kissed her gently, “You look beautiful,” He noticed the glow in her blue eyes.

Amelia smiled tenderly at him, hugging him with both her arms. Owen glanced over at the window, it was still dark outside. The clock on the nightstand confirmed his suspicion; it was barely past 6 am.

“Babe, why are you awake?” Owen chuckled, moaning in protest to the early hour “It’s six in the morning on a Saturday, go back to sleep,” He felt her entangle her arms on his neck and pulled her nearer, closing his eyes as he buried his face in her chest.

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AU: You’re a serial killer and Luke is your undead roommate

Every person my age complains about being “misunderstood.” They can rant and rave for hours about how nobody allows them to express themselves when in reality their so-called unprecedented opinions are straight from the Buzzfeed article they read last month. The funny thing is, the only person I know who is truly misunderstood is me, and I’m very thankful for that. Because if everyone truly understood and accepted the kind of person I am, the world would never be a safe place.

I don’t know when it started really, the weird obsession for the hunt. I’ve always been a little odd I guess, even during my childhood days. One day in 4th grade a bird ran into our classroom window and died right as we returned from recess; the thing hit it so hard the beak had shoved into its head, leaving its face concaved and cracked open. The other kids ran squealing, but I had stood there, paralyzed. Not a shocked or scarred paralyze though. No, it was an awe-struck paralysis. I was enamored by the way one crucial second had reverted this lively creature into a bloody mess at my feet. The teacher, having been alerted by twenty screaming students, rushed me inside, but the thought of how fragile and helpless that bird looked haunted me for weeks. I was obsessed with it, but not because it was dead, but because I realized how easy it was to make death happen.

Over the years, things have only gotten worse.

I’m in my third year at uni, and I’ve killed eleven people. Some of them I knew, others I didn’t even know the names of until I watched the news report on them the next day. Some were old, others young, girls, boys, fat, skinny, muscular, colored, white, locals, foreigners. I don’t discriminate. I don’t know how I choose my targets; they choose me, I guess. And I’ve never even been a suspect in my own murders; whether it be I’m too good at my cover-ups or just nobody suspects the sweet, quiet girl who wears skirts and bows I don’t know, but it makes things easier.

I don’t want you to get the idea that I’m like obsessed with murder or I’m proud of who I am though. It’s actually quite the opposite. I hate who I am; I hate the fact I’m obsessed with having the power to decide whether a person lives or dies, the sight of their struggling fading at my hands, the feeling of their heart pounding frantically against their chest before coming to a quick halt. It’s disgusting and sadistic and evil, but I just can’t tame it. It’s something I have to do, the same way a heroine addict has shoot up, or an alcoholic has to have his flask.

Except instead of rehab centers, people like me get death penalties.

It’s impossible to explain. Not that I’ve tried explaining it to anyone ever… I mean, what would I say, “hi I have an obsession with murder, which by the way I’ve committed loads of times”? Yeah, that would go down so well.

With that said, it’s easy to understand why it’s hard for me to get close to people; I have very few friends here at school, and the ones I do have I keep at arms length for their own safety. I’ve trained myself to be emotionally detached when it comes to interhuman relationships for obvious reasons. Empathy isn’t exactly an ideal feeling to have for a person when you’re snapping their spine. I’ve only just reluctantly agreed to a roommate – serial killer or not, we all gotta pay rent, and it’s fucking expensive.

His name is Luke, and he’s also somewhat of a loner. I don’t exactly know why.. I mean, he’s cute and funny and very sweet, but there’s something a little unsettling about him that I can’t put my finger on. But seeing as we both are social outcasts in our university ecosystem it’s no surprise we ended up getting partnered together for an Econ project, and over time he unfortunately began to grow on me. So after months of him begging, I finally agreed to give rooming together a shot.

It’s been strange and really tough living with someone; seeing evidence of another living being around my (our) flat, whether it be his dirty dishes in the sink or the remnants of his late night math study session in the living room, it sends a weird feeling through me. He’s so close, so vulnerable, so available, all the time.

While rooming with him gives me more ways to distract myself from my… cravings, it also gives me reason to be even more cautious. Many times I’ve caught myself staring at the prominent vein that runs down the back of his neck the way a wolf looks at a young deer, and many times I’ve left him dumbfounded as I rush out of the flat to keep myself from doing something I know I’ll regret. But regardless he continues to foolishly trust me, and I hate to admit but that naive vulnerability is making him more and more delicious.

Which is why I took this trip. After weeks of unbearable temptation, I decided to take a weekend holiday in a small neighboring town. A town that is now looking for two teenage boys who were last seen in the grocery store where I stopped when I rode through town. Hm, strange coincidence.

But now that I’m back I see that those two boys, who just so happened to have Luke’s height and build, minimally helped the hunger clawing through me for a certain  blonde-haired boy’s blood. I’ve tried avoiding him as much as I can, but seeing as we share very small living quarters, there’s only so much sneaking around I can do.

A couple nights after I returned from my trip I was in the kitchen boiling a pot of spaghetti while cramming for the biology exam I had tomorrow. My impromptu trip had cut into my preparation for this test, so while I shouldn’t have been doing anything else but memorizing protein chains out of the textbook open on the counter in front of me, I was fixed on the news story about the two missing teen boys that was on our tv. Luke said he was staying at his friend’s place tonight for some reason or another, so I didn’t suppress my grin when the reporter announced the police have no leads on suspects or location of the bodies.

I was so engrossed in the coverage I guess I didn’t hear the front door open, so I almost dumped an entire pot of boiling noodles on myself when Luke appeared in the kitchen.

“Holy shit Luke!” I squeaked as I composed myself, “you’re like a ghost. What are you doing here?”

Luke laughed as he shrugged off his jacket, tossing it onto the living room couch before plopping down next to it. “Mike’s girlfriend came over and they started going at it during the movie, so I decided I’d give them some space. You don’t mind, right?”

I turned my gaze to straining the noodles so he didn’t notice my unease. I wasn’t mentally prepared to have him around all night. “Of course not!” I replied briskly, “this is just as much your place as mine.”

“Then could I get a share of that pasta you’re making? I kinda didn’t have an appetite whilst in the company of Mike and what’s-her-face.” Luke flashed me a cheesy grin before turning his attention to the tv. “Hey, I read an article on this case online. Sad stuff, isn’t it? They were just around our age.”

I shrugged, the overwhelming tenseness in my body made it difficult to twist the lid off the marinara. “It was just their time I suppose.”

Luke wrinkled his nose, “I guess. Hey, are you okay?” He gets up and takes the jar from my trembling hands. I force myself to tear my eyes off the veins in his arm.

I forced a smile, “yeah, just a little stressed. Big exam tomorrow and I’m nowhere near prepared.”

“Let me help you study!” Luke offered as he popped the lid off with ease and set it on the counter, “I took this class last semester so I know most of it. I can quiz you while you finish dinner.”

“No!” I almost shouted, taking him aback. I took a couple steps back and swallowed the growing urge to wrap my fingers around his pretty little neck, “I mean, it’s okay. Really. I study better alone anyways-”

“Oh come on, it’ll be fun” he prompted, reaching toward my textbook. He was so close to me, his arm outstretched and so in my reach…

“Please don’t,” I almost begged. Don’t tempt me.

“It’s fine, honestly-”


And in the blink of an eye before I even knew what I was doing, I grabbed the pair of meat scissors off the counter and stabbed Luke’s hand just as he grabbed my book. I put so much pent-up force into it I sliced clean through and stuck him to the open pages. He didn’t make a sound, and instead just stood their frozen, his eyes growing wide and his mouth agape in shock and horror as he watched his own blood pool over the DNA illustration.

There was no turning back for me now. I grabbed the butcher knife out of the drawer, hating myself more than ever as I thumbed over the blade to make sure it was sufficiently sharp.

“I’m so, so sorry about this,” I say earnestly as I yanked the scissors out of his hand, receiving a yelp of pain from him, “but I tried to tell you.”

As he cradled his bloody appendage, I shoved him back and stuck his arm to the wall with the scissors. This time the shock didn’t help and he cried out in pain, which only fueled the hunger in me that had broken free at last, giving me the extra strength I needed to keep his other arm pinned with my free arm as well.

“God, I really tried with you,” I murmured, gently tracing his jaw with the knife blade. My voice was sweet and soothing, just like it always is once I succumb to the evil, primitive side of me, “I wanted so badly to keep you around. You were so kind, but so foolish, so trusting..”

“You’re insane,” Luke gasped, his resistance disappointingly feeble; I expected more of a fight from him.

I grinned sadly. “I’ve heard worse. And I can’t deny it. But don’t worry, baby, I’ll make this quick for your sake.”

And in one fluid motion, I dragged my blade across the width of his neck, drawing him a scarlet necklace from one shoulder to another. I was unable to look away as the blood oozed from the fine gash, and I found myself squeezing his hand, waiting to feel his pulse fade.

But then I realized, I couldn’t feel a pulse.

For a moment I thought he was already dead, but when I looked up at his face again, I saw the light had not left his eyes; they were different though, his icy blue irises had turned profoundly darker, the usual easy humor that occupied them was replaced with something menacing, something beautiful, something terrifying.

And he was grinning at me.

Suddenly the primitive side of me didn’t feel so powerful anymore. My breath hitched in my throat and I stumbled backwards. “W-why aren’t you dead?” I stammered, the butcher knife still gripped tightly in my hand. This made no sense. I’ve had enough experience to know how to kill people, and with an open trachea like his, he shouldn’t have been still standing.

He chuckled softly, making blood flow out of the gash more aggressively, but it seemed to have no effect on him. His formerly white t-shirt was dark red, and the pool of blood at his feet made it look like he had just gone swimming in food dye. He reached for the scissors with his free hand and yanked them out of his arm, wincing at the action.

He twirled the scissors around his scarlet fingers before shooting me a gaze that paralyzed me.

“If you wanted to kill me darling, you’re about 50 years too late. But don’t worry, I think we’ll still get along just fine.”




A/N: I know it took forever, but here’s another creepy 5sos to go along with the Mikey one I wrote ages ago (link’s in my masterpost). I needed some time off tumblr to figure my real life out, but hopefully I’ll be posting more now that it’s summer! Feel free to leave a comment/suggestion in my ask. Or just say hi if ya want idk. 

You Should Abort

Mike and you are engaged. You come from a rich family who isn’t proud of you dating a drummer. They come and visit you. Throughout the night they make snotty comments about your life. But your too afraid to stand up to them. Then they make a comment about how they feel bad about how your daughter has to be around it. And how you should have an abortion. Mike then says something about it.


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what happens in vegas stays in vegas, b.b smut

A/N: This is gonna be a lot long that I thought it would be, but it’s to short to put into two parts, but if you want a second part to this please tell me! Everyone is okay with each other, btw Enjoy!

Warnings: Unedited, Smut, Swearing, Visuals, Unprotected sex (Wrap it before ya tap it), It kinda sucks

Words: 3,766

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Wrapped Around Your Finger [Calum Hood - Part 2]

Summary: Calum used to only see you as a quick fuck although you saw him as much more. One night, you finally get tired of his antics and decide to be done with him. Until 2 years later…

Warning: there will be smut and language

Authors note: *IMPORTANT* anyone who inboxes me about part 2 in NOT ignored. I just usually wait until I’ve finished and posted the request/story so I can answer them with direct links to the story, so feedback is a way to get yourself a direct like to the other parts! :)

Enjoy xx



Its been 2 years since your falling out with Calum. You hadn’t spoken or seen him since, not that you let yourself care. You kept yourself busy, always taking extra shifts at the restaurant you worked at and when you got a stable job you would stay long hours into the night which eventually led to your boss giving you an upgrade and now people worked for you. And most people found it amazing — you were only nineteen.

But just because any relations ended with Calum didn’t mean your friendship with the other boys had to. So today, at Ashtons 21st birthday, you’d been more than happy to come. You were hoping to run into Calum. You knew that you’d changed a lot both mentally and physically.

After you and Calum’s last known correspondence, you decided a change was in order. You were short and you never liked your tummy. To you, it was lanky since you were short, you felt self-conscious to ever show it off. So you started dieting and exercising more.

Over the last two years any baby-fat you had turned into muscle and your stomach had toned out. Your hair had grown out and it was a different color and much, much healthier.

You weren’t the old you anymore and you were proud of that.

“Y/n!” Michael slurred loudly over the music, “So nice to see you again! How’ve you been?”

“I’ve been great Mikey. And you?”

“Absolutely wonderful. You look hot.”

You laughed loudly at his statement, feeling the confidence build in your bones. Or maybe it was just the liquor. You couldn’t tell and it didn’t matter.

“You’re looking good yourself Mike.”

“Y'know,” He threw an arm around your shoulder and a drunken smile painted itself onto his face, “Calum’s here.”

“I figured.” You brought the green beer glass to your lips and took a long swig. “He’s changed a lot.” He pulled you outside where a few people sat. The area was mostly vacant and the loud music became muffled like elevator music.

“Guysssss,” Mike staggered onto the grass, still holding you in his grasp. “Look who decided to come!”

“Y/n! I didn’t think you’d make it. You said you were busy.” Ashton giggled. “I was. But I got out of it.”

This was true. Ever since you became the head editor for your job, you’ve rarely taken any time off. Your job and your position were your priority and no one worked as hard as you.

“I’m glad. Come sit with me!” He held his arms out towards you and you slipped out of Michaels arm to fall into Ashton’s warmth. You situated yourself so your back was pressed against his chest and you sat in his lap. His arms wrapped around your upper-arms and hugged you close to his body. You giggled and relaxed into the warm embrace.

Michael took a seat next to Luke and chugged the rest of his beer. “Y/n it’s been a couple months since we’ve seen you.” Luke said, subconsciously playing with his lip ring with his tongue. “We’ve both been busy. I have a life ya’know.”

“I know. Have you seen Calum yet?”

“Actually, no I—”

“Hey mate, we’re nearly out of beers.” As if on cue, the all too familiar voice came through the sliding glass door. Almost immediately the tension in the air grew thick and Luke, Ashton, and Mikes eyes were locked on you two. “Y-y/n?”

“Calum.” You tilted your head to the side. He didn’t say anything, he didn’t know what exactly to say.

“You said beers are almost out? I guess I should go grab one before they are completely gone.” You smiled and loosened Ashton’s grip around you. You strutted past Calum and into the house, weaving your body around the sea of people to get to the kitchen. You rummaged through the vacant coolers before another presence entered the room. “Y/n…” You turned around in surprise and looked at the in awe boy in front of you. “Calum if my name is the only word you know then you’re still a pretty sad person.”

He flinched as if your words actually hit a nerve. “I just… You look good… Really good.” He mumbled. “Thanks.” You said half-heartedly and wandered over to the fridge. “Finally!” You cheered, pulling out a beer and popping the lid. You brought the glass to your lips and took several large gulps. “What are you doing here?”

You looked at Calum and suddenly your confidence had been boosted again. You stumbled over to him. “Same reason as you. It’s Ashton’s birthday.” You creased an eyebrow, “You think that just because I ended any relations with you that I stopped being friends with the boys?” You chuckled. “Ironically enough, my friendships with the boys never began with you, much less would they end with you.” You shrugged.

“But you just had to end our friendship.”

You went for the kitchen door, but he move in front of you. “Friendship?” You scoffed. “That was not a friendship. Furthest thing from it. That was toying. You used me, Calum, and it hurt me, so I evacuated myself from you. All you wanted from me was sex and it’ll always be my fault because I let it happen.” Your eyes averted to your feet, “I’ve been so ashamed of myself for it for two years. You got what you wanted, I never did.”

“Y/n I’m so sorry…” Calum reached out to touch your shoulder. “No! No you’re not Calum! People like you are never sorry! How can you even say that?!” Your blood was boiling much like it had two years ago. “That…” You let out a smug chuckled, “That’s bullshit. Another empty apology.”

“I am sorry! I was stupid!” He started, “I was just a horny 17 year old kid.”

“And now you’re a horny 19 year old kid.” You looked him dead in the eye, “If you were really sorry then you would’ve said it two years ago.”

“I didn’t think you’d want to hear it. You told me that I was a terrible person.”

You didn’t say anything. “Please, Y/n, Let me show you I’ve changed.” He took your hands in his. “Calum I can’t… What happens when I try to give you my trust again and you lose it?”

“I won’t. Just please.” He pleaded, giving your hands a tight squeeze.

“Let me prove you wrong.”












“I just think they look good on people. You spend a lot of time in the mirror looking at yourself when you have tattoos. Same way with other people. It just looks good.”

“Anyone that reads the lyrics and really knew anything about us, they would know we’re not promoting either. That’s one thing about this band that I love is that we never really shove any kind of, like, political or religious beliefs on people. We just, the music’s there to entertain and maybe thought-provoking on both sides, but we don’t try to, like, really shove anything down anyone’s throat. There’s too many bands that do that nowadays, I think.” 2009

“Oh Shit! What’s in the bucket?
What’s in the bucket but a bucket of shit
but a bucket of grapes,
and the grapes in the mouth make you happy down south.
Make you getta big boner what ya gonna do.?”

“It took like 5 hours to complete my virgin Mary. I was raised Catholic and it seemed like a good idea.”

“One day dude I’m just gonna get off the bus, and I’m, I’m gonna run, I’m gonna run in the woods and I’m never gonna come back! And when I come back, I’m gonna be the KNIFE MASTER’… The best turn around, in the shortest amount of time, yeah! Fuckin, and I’m never gonna come back, and when I come back!’


“Let’s come and laugh at me !!! let’s come laugh at the artissstt !!!!”“If Someday I’m not here, I just want you to know, you’re my best buddy, more than everything. You guys are my best friends and I’m having the best time in the fucking world. I’m a little too close to Johnny right now but that’s okay.”

“This is a lesson about life: This is one person. This is another person. This is one person trying to understand another person, even though it doesn’t have room to download the other person into it’s brain. It cannot understand the other person, even though it tries to. So he ends up overflowing with knowledge.”

“Well, what a great.. What a great audience! What a great audience!”

“Look at the size of that fucking duck! LOOK AT THAT DUCK! Jesus Christ. Come here your fuckin’ STALLION DUCK! He’s not afraid at all! He’s not afraid at all! He’s not afraid at all! That’s the biggest fuckin’ duck I’ve ever seen in my life.”

“I’m outa here, I’m only playing one song, and I’m not coming back for ten years! And when I come back..!”

“Just a spoonfull of Jimmy helps the whole world go down!”

“Let’s see what is up with this dog today… *picks up Synyster’s dog, and it starts spazzing out* Hey dog. What’s wrong with you? Dog! *puts down the dog and it walks away completely fine* Jesus Christ!”

“Fuck Prada! Lickin’ on my nuts, suckin’ on my nuts, suckin’… fuckin’ grindin’ DOWN on dem nuts.”

“Hey! I had an epileptic fucking seizure, dude! Yeah, I was looking directly there and then all the lighting, like I couldn’t see drums or the crowd or anything. But just crazy colors. Nothing but flashing and explosion and I’m all OH MY GOD! I’m all am I concience? And then I just closes my eyes and tried to hibernate. It’s crazy.”

“Id like to thank God, whichever one, hahaha whichever one I believe in, which im not sure about yet. Just kiddin Dad, my best friend right here, thank you guys for much more than this award right here!”

“For now, everyone struggling with (the poor economy), the best thing we can do is give them an awesome show. 2009

“Look at all these pigeons, think they can just trust us humans? You can’t trust us humans!”

“My life is kinda like a story that if I told you about it you probably wouldn’t believe. It would seem like fiction. That’s me”

“The first couple of months when you release an album, the crowds don’t know the songs quite as well, so the shows get better after a few months.”

“I’m just proud and I’m touched when I see someone with a new Avenged Sevenfold tat. and now …I always make sure I check them out if they’re sportin'one. That’s meaningful when you put someone else’s ink on your body.”

“Over all Avenged Sevenfold the album is 10 times better than the others.”

“I don’t do well with technology.”

“Everyone in this band has beaten Johnny up at some point.”

“I beat myself off 17 times in one day. That’s the worst beating I’ve ever handed out. I was so sore that it was hard to get that last load out.”

“Your clothes you would think would always be clean when you live in a laundry mat, but no!! I lived in a laundry mat for 6 months and I only washed my clothes twice.”

“Spiders and fuckin shit on my face. I’m not happy about it at all. There is nothing to be happy about spiders on my face. But it’s gonna look cool.”

“What gives Dr. Pillowfucker the right to ask us that stupid question?”

“There is one tattoo on my body that sometimes at night I feel like demonds are atttacking me. I claw at it trying to get it off. I might get it covered up. I don’t know why I brought it up.”

“Like most bands we’re a family, family before band. If we broke up tomorrow, we’d still be friends.”

“The people in this band are my best friends on the planet. Some of them longer then other and some of them truly are my heart and my soul’’

"No one could get anything done if they were completely out of control all of the time. Everyone likes to go out and have a few drinks with their best friends; I don’t think anyone on the planet doesn’t like to do that.”



Beloved Son, Brother, Best Friend.
Jimmy jumped into life and
never touch bottom

an AU where Dean is a dog walker and Cas is one of his clients (well, technically he could count as five, if he’s talking about how many dogs are walked for him…so yes, basically Cas is his only client) but Dean doesn’t mind, not at all, because even if it’s only for three minutes every Wednesday and Friday, he gets to see those blue eyes light up and that smile of his widen when his little family comes home…and damn, Dean thinks seeing that is pretty much worth the entire world

he does his best to get to know the guy as much as he can in the span of time he has while preparing the dogs for their walk and when bringing them home after. So far, he knows that Cas is an English teacher for underprivileged kids, and he also is the head of a charity that gives them the necessities they need to live (of course he is, because anything else might make him less perfect). It’s called Anything, for the Angels. and Dean thinks his heart swells too big when Cas describes his reasoning for that name, “because the kids really are Angels.”

He also knows that Cas loves breakfast and hates mornings. He knows that he would have ten cats if he weren’t allergic, and that dogs were his next choice. He knows that Castiel doesn’t like his full name, so Cas will do. Dean knows his favorite movie is The Titanic, his favorite books are all of them, and his most prized possession is the trench coat his brother bought for him before leaving to Afghanistan. Dean knows that Cas’ brother never came back. He knows that Gabe was the only one in his family that accepted Cas’ sexual orientation, and that his father and mother “simply couldn’t deal with this phase anymore after Gabriel’s death.” He knows that Castiel buys a dog every time he feels like the world is too much, and he wants to go away forever. Dean knows that he needs to protect Cas, that he wants to find his parents and yell at them for letting go of something so amazing. He knows that he’s fallen for the guy, and he has absolutely no clue what he’s going to do about it.

Until one day, Castiel has running shoes on and jeans and a t-shirt that replace the usual suit and tie he wore after coming home from work (and Dean so does not miss the tie for a split second, he also doesn’t secretly appreciate the fact that he could see Cas’ figure a whole lot better, and he definitely doesn’t check him out six times when he isn’t looking.) and it takes a moment of them standing there in the accustomed comfortable silence that they’ve developed, studying each other’s eyes, that Dean realizes Cas is actually coming with him on today’s walk. “I thought today was an exceptionally beautiful one. Do you mind?” Hell, no, I don’t mind! Are you kidding? But instead Dean settles for, “Sure, Cas. That would be nice.”

They each take a few dogs, Dean with three and Cas with the remaining two, and begin on the usual route Dean takes. It’s small talk at first, neither asking big or too complicated of questions, before Cas tears that all down. “I know nothing about you.” He stops, squinting his eyes against the sun when facing Dean, “I realized last night, that I’ve only told you about myself. I only know what you do for work,” Cas gestures towards the dogs, “and that you have a younger brother named Sammy. I would like to get to know more about you.” If Dean wasn’t so hung up on the fact that Castiel mentioned last night as if thinking about him at night was so casual, he would have corrected him nicely and say that his brothers name was Sam, and he only allowed Dean to call him Sammy, but who really cared? The way he said it had Dean’s heart melting anyway, and he just might have to make Sam get used to one more person using that nickname.

He finally realizes, after probably way too long, that Cas is still waiting for him to answer. and fuck, even the way he waits is adorable, with his head tilted and lips slightly parted, Dean thinks he might embrace the embarrassment afterward and pull out his phone to take a picture right then and there. But, he has some sense of will power, and clears his throat instead. “It’s hardly your fault Cas. I’m the one who asked too many questions, you couldn’t get one in yourself.”

“True or not, I still would enjoy getting familiar with you.” Castiel is smiling slightly and Dean notices the small dimples he possesses just below his right and left cheekbone, and he smiles back for a second.

But then his smile falls, “I-Im really not that interesting. My second job isn’t at a charity, it’s in a garage. I, uh, I fix cars. I didn’t go to college because dad needed me to help with the house after mom died…but Sammy? Sammy’s at Stanford. I’m so proud of him.” His smile is back again, “They both know I’m bisexual, my dad and brother. The old man took it pretty hard at first, but he was over it faster than I thought he would be. I think Sam must’ve talked some sense into ‘em. Bobby, my dad’s best friend and our godfather, he took care of us too growing up, still does. He owns the shop I work at.“ Dean lets out a breath, and he’s staring at the floor a little too hard, “Uh…I don’t read a lot of books, but I do like some of the classics. My favorite movies range from anything with a car chase to anything that keeps you thinking for hours after it’s over. I couldn’t live without my family and my car…I think I love that damn thing a little more than I should sometimes. But, it has a ton of memories, ya know?” He glances up to see if Cas is still paying attention, and of course he is, so Dean blushes and darts his eyes away again, “As far as me personally, I’m not very good at saying how I feel. I tend to believe the worst and ruin the best.” He decides he’s done then because, well, maybe it’s getting too much for Cas.

Dean finds him looking at him the way he was before, his head tilted and eyes squinted, but his mouth held a slight frown, “You’re down on yourself a lot. You don’t think you’re something special.”

Dean shrugs, “I’m not.”

“I like my full name.” Castiel says. And he doesn’t explain until Dean gives him a very confused look, “Two months ago, when we first met, I told you my name was Castiel. The next time we saw each other you called me Cas, then later corrected yourself. But I told you that I didn’t like my full name, so ‘Cas’ was okay. I lied.”


And oh my god, that’s when Cas blushed. If Dean thought he was beautiful before, nothing prepared him for now. “I lied because when you nicknamed me, I felt as if we knew each other for more than two days. That you and I had a past, and I could tell you anything. All because of the way you said my name. So when you almost took it away, I lied to keep it.”

Dean only stared at him then, because…what was actually happening? His heart felt like it was beating way too fast, and maybe he knew what was happening. Maybe it was hope. But Castiel was still blushing and they were still standing, facing each other in the same spot they stopped at before.

“You’re special, Dean.” Cas breaks the silence, “I thought so the moment I opened my front door and first saw you, when you greeted me with a grin and a soft ‘hey.’ I thought so when I watched you interact with my dogs, and immediately started telling me how much your little brother would love them. I knew there was something special about you when you actually listened to the answers I gave to your questions, like listening was the best trait you could ever have. Did you know that you sing when putting the leashes on the dogs? You do. You sing as if its natural to you, and you’re good, and that’s special.” He breathes, and smiles, “You have a lot of freckles, I lose count every time I try to find the sum of them all, but I’m never giving up. And your eyes tell stories. They’re young and old all at once. It took me a while to notice that because, well, I guess I have a weakness for green. Did you know that’s my favorite color now? It changed two months ago. Because something special changed it. You changed me in the smallest ways, and I hadn’t even gotten to know you yet. So if you ask me, you’re pretty damn special, Dean.”

They’re closer now, and whether it was Dean or Cas who filled the gap that was once between them, he couldn’t tell. But Dean was tasting the lips he had been staring at for weeks now, the ones he had been dreaming out almost every night, and they were tasting his right back. It was a good thing that the dogs were well trained, because Dean had dropped the leashes and cupped the other mans face in an instant, and the dogs stayed put. He was pretty sure Cas dropped the leashes he held too, because Dean could feel a strong grip on his waist, one that became even stronger when he was pushed up against a tree, and then soft again when they reached up around his neck. The soft breathy moans leaving Cas’ lips and floating onto Dean’s, caused him to kiss even harder, and it wasn’t until a few seconds after that, that he realized maybe they could use some air.

“You’re pretty special too, Cas.” He says in between gasping breathes, and keeps his hand cupped around Castiel’s face, smiling when the other man leans into it. They stay like that for a while, grinning like idiots and breathing, Dean is trying to memorize Cas’ face as Cas begins to count his freckles again.

And Dean can’t seem to get rid of his smile after that, not even when they decide to continue on their walk, holding hands and daring to hold all of the dogs with the other. It’s worth the risk, Dean thinks. He even smiles when he drops Cas off at home, and helps him put the dogs away. Of course he’s smiling during their goodbye kiss (is it a goodbye kiss when it lasts for twenty minutes?) and he smiles all the way home.

A week later, when he’s back at Cas’ front door to pick up the dogs, he has the biggest smile yet. Because, there is no walk that day. There’s only the inside of a bedroom and the sloppiness of eager, long awaited, kisses. And Dean thinks, as Cas falls asleep on his arm and the dogs bark from outside of the room, that…yeah. Together, with all of this, they’re pretty damn special.