pure privilege

Panic! at the hook-up (part 3)

Rating: M (this is a lie, It should strictly be T)

Pairings: AkaFuri. Slight Nebumibu, Murahimu and Midotaka.

Characters: Akashi Seijuro. Furihata Kouki. Mibuchi Reo.

Word Count: 4700+ words (this is NOT the final chapter, unfortunately)

Tags: Aged-Up Characters. One Night Stand AU. Fluff. So much Fluff. Awkward conversations are awkward. Dorks who don’t know how to get their shit together. Reo the Angel Incarnate. Author is very sorry for splitting the chapter. Okay not so sorry. Just feeling Evil.

Parts: Part 1/Part 2/Part 3(here)

Summary: Akashi woke up after a drunk one night stand feeling at peace with the world. Unfortunately the brunet in his arms doesn’t seem to think the same way. (or an AU where Furi and Akashi have been scarred by terrible relationships in the past that one never wants to get into them and one waits in vain for someone to love him back)

Author’s notes : |||orz terribly sorry for cutting the chapter short! Its just got wayyyy out of hand and I didn’t want to dump too much in one go. So…..splitting into two! As always, thank you so much for reading and following this story!! It all ends with the next update! (which will be posted soooooooon!!)

AO3 Link right here!

Seijuro rapped his knuckles impatiently against the metal door of the nondescript building. The area the address had indicated looked like something anyone would miss in the passing, not offering a second glance. It had no discernible boards or colourful nameplates that made it stand out to the passerby. Nothing, to show that it was an art studio of one of the most sought-after names in the Art World. And yet, Seijuro stood in front of it, rather irritably, for more than twenty minutes in the frosty weather.

“Maybe he couldn’t hear you. Isn’t there a bell around here somewhere?” Reo was next to him, puffing clouds of air into his gloved hands before rubbing them. His hair was pulled back into a stylish yet unkempt ponytail, few strands tugged loose to drape his cheekbones artfully, giving him the Gallery Owner Look (whatever that meant, Akashi had waved it off when Reo started to explain enthusiastically), and the side clips had been abandoned - courtesy the aforementioned Look. 

Keep reading

exo fic rec

Breakfast With The Fuzz - chanyeol/baekhyun - surgicalfocus - 78k+

Officer Park Chanyeol is reassigned from a busy city police department to one in a small town, against his wishes. When a beautiful, intriguing parkour enthusiast is arrested and brought in to his new workplace, Chanyeol feels compelled to ask him out for breakfast. He quickly learns that Byun Baekhyun never eats breakfast, hates cops, and has more baggage than a busload of tourists. These things are only minor obstacles to winning him over, as far as Chanyeol is concerned.

Earthgrazers - chanyeol/baekhyun - lotusk - 23k+

Ruby Sparks!AU. Romance novelist Park Chanyeol is having the worst writer’s block of his career. Frustrated, he tries writing on an old typewriter and for the first time in weeks, the words start to flow. The next morning, he wakes up to a naked stranger spooning him—a naked stranger who just happens to be the main protagonist of the novel he’s writing.

Ocalis: The Lost Legend - chanyeol/baekhyun - mminnex - 37k+

An assignment leads journalist, Park Chanyeol, to a desolate island in the middle of nowhere where people have been rumored to be disappearing. He doesn’t know what to expect of the island, but it isn’t mythical creatures; an eyeless, soulless villainess; or magical mirrors that lead to another world. And surely, it isn’t the alluring innkeeper and barista who claims Chanyeol is the missing ruler of the magical land; and that he is Chanyeol’s long-lost lover.

Keep reading

Can I just rant for a sec?

I am all about Hermione being a POC. It makes sense as a metaphor because of the discrimination she faces as a muggleborn witch. Like “oh maybe in the wizard world, I won’t be discriminated against because of my skin” and she’s right about that, but she faces another kind of discrimination. Her skin color is never described in the books, but based off of other descriptions it’s entirely possible that she is a POC.

You know what doesn’t make sense to me? Harry being a POC. First of all, we know Lilly is white because she’s a redhead with green eyes. And now, it’s possible that James is a POC, but that really wouldn’t fit with the metaphor that’s applied to Hermione. James is a pure blood wizard with two wizard parents and it simply doesn’t fit. Obviously that’s just my opinion and if your headcannon is that they’re both POC, there’s not a problem with that. I just think it’s more powerful to have Hermione kicking ass and being so successful with all the odds stacked against her, whereas Harry just kinda gets what he wants all the time and doesn’t have to work for anything (read - white, pure blood, male privilege)

~Your Manager of Mischief, Missy

Title: Blood And Water

  Author: anonymous until reveals

  Status: Completed

  Rating: NC-17

  Length: One Shot

  Genre: Romance, Fluff, Smut, Hogwarts!AU

  Summary: Ever since he was a little boy Chanyeol has known that there is much more to life than his parents, with their pure-blood privilege and conservative ideals, would have him believe. But when he meets Baekhyun, a Muggle-born whose magic goes far beyond mere wizardry and spell casting, Chanyeol gets so much more than he ever bargained for.

[Admin Notes: I CANT EXPLAIN HOW MUCH I LOVE THIS EVEN THOUGH I’M NOT REALLY A POTTERHEAD OMG I’m just squealing so hard while reading this chanyeol is such a lovestruck cutie patootie puppy boy to baekhyun that he was so into Muggle stuff 😭😭😭 I love their friendship and how their relationship had evolved and how chanyeol was so whipped ((and jealous)) they’re such cutie pies here lol I LOVE MY BABIES SO MUCH AND THE SMUT THAT I DID NOT EXPECT AND GOT ME SHOOKT IM BYE - Admin Elle ♡]



Black, Jewish And Avoiding The Synagogue On The High Holy Days
It's one thing when outsiders don't recognize my faith. It's a different kind of sadness when I'm made to feel like a stranger in the synagogue.

I can attest to behavior like this from attending white-dominated temples with Black and Asian Jewish friends/relations. It’s partly why I’ve always felt so uncomfortable with the “Jews aren’t white” debate because, um, yes, there are white Jews because white privilege exists within the Jewish sphere and the experiences of a Jew that looks like me vs a Jew that’s Black have a strong contrast that yes, is race-based. Jews can be white. We’ll never be “pure” or “truly” white, of course. We’re sneaky, false whites, never white enough. And, the idea of “Jewish Privilege” is fucking grotesque. But yes, Jews can/do enjoy white privilege when they look like me, especially if we’re not being “too Jewy”.


When you’re religious, and when your religion is so intertwined with your cultural identity in general, what happens in a House of Worship will have a very particular impact on you. Especially, especially so if, like Leah Donnella, your schul was such a major setting of your childhood. And yes, we really need to be better about this. 

Seriously, the lack of intersectional discussion of race and Judaism is super troubling to me. There’s been a lot of discussion lately about exclusion of Jews from many activist spaces, and I have been thinking in particular about the Black, Female, and Jewish identities and such since Yom Kippur. For those of you who don’t know, there was a lot of controversy because this year NOW scheduled its March for Black Women on Yom Kippur. 

And, yeah, I’m sorry, that WAS a major fuckup. I get that such large-scale protests are extremely hard to organize and schedule, but that never should have happened.

There are a lot of people who might assume my issue with this is purely white privilege, and I’ll admit, that might be a factor. But I am not here to white-woke cry about how I waaanted to support Black Women but it was on our holiday waaaah! No, that’s not why I think this was a screw up on such a scale that it’s made me think a ton about Black, Jewish, Female experiences so much for over a month.  It was an insensitive fuckup that is part of the same problem that Leah Donnella talks about in her article: basically, that people seem determined to never pay acknowledge that there are plenty of Jews who DO NOT LOOK LIKE ME. IN THIS PARTICULAR CASE: BLACK. JEWISH. YOU CAN HAVE IT ALL!

Seriously, if you’re not a Black, Jewish Woman, imagine this scenario for a secon:  you’re a Black, Jewish Woman (or man) and you’re both super-religious, but also a passionate activist who wants to support and speak out for black women, march for black feminism/womanism, wants to gather with the same people. In this particularly ugly social climate where racism and sexism seem to leak from every congressional pore, you want to march. NOW is organizing a march in DC for Black Women…

Oh, but you have to violate sacred spiritual laws that you have observed as a core part of your identity in order to do so. 

That’s. Not. Fucking. Fair. 

And yes, I actually think NOW’s scheduling fuckup was kind of a ethno-racial privilege problem. Not only did it show an embarrassing level of incompetence and insensitivity to Jews in general, it’s another example of people ignoring the existence of non-white Jews. It puts Black Jews in a particularly difficult position. And it ends up creating a situation where there’s a conceptual Black vs Jewish conflict. Basically, it not only pits women against each other, but it pits two historically marginalized groups against each other.

The mentality that scheduled the Black Women’s March on Yom Kippur is the same mindset that leads to the schul usher asking Leah Donnella, not her (Catholic) boyfriend, “What brings you here?”

“When I talk about Judaism, people look at me in a way that makes me feel like I’m breaking into my own house. Especially the people inside the house.” —- Leah Donnella

We need to celebrate intersectionalism, racial diversity among Jews, religious diversity among racial groups, etc. We have to stop kicking ourselves out of our own homes, whether they be spiritual, cultural, familial, or ideological.  

The media you like isn’t pure.

I really, really hate this tendency to refer to things we like as “pure” and “perfect”.

My creativity is neither. The things I like are neither. Nothing I make or consume, no matter how good it is, is either of those things, because media is made by humans and all humans are hampered by some form of privilege or ignorance, no matter how much we try. We’re humans. We fuck up.

I’ve seen desperately cissexist TV shows described as “pure”. On the other side of the coin, I’ve seen shows that succeed in many kinds of representation but fail in a few areas dismissed as media inappropriate to consume - impure - because of their failures. It isn’t pure, so therefore it isn’t worthwhile, and wanting to consume it is seen as a slight on those not included by it, even though other groups are finding good representation for the first time.

Neither is the right way to evaluate media. Neither results in what it is we want - conversations educating and resulting in media made with more awareness, compassion, representation and insight. Neither results in people thinking, considering, growing, learning.

Is anyone discussing the problem of using a word like “pure”, anyway? What the hell are we doing, deciding that “pure” and “perfect” work as a merit ranking system? “Purity” has been used as a means to exclude and justify hate for many kinds of minorities, so why are we using it as an indicator of merit? What possible worth does the notion of “purity” in evaluating anything give us that we’re happy to overlook the history of this concept wielded against vulnerable groups? It’s a word and concept that has been used to harm us, yet now we use it to evaluate media that supposedly doesn’t? How does that even work?

(And don’t get me started on the ableism behind “perfect”, honestly.)

Again: creators and consumers are human. We are all working from positions of privilege and ignorance. We are all going to make mistakes based on our possession of these, no matter how hard we try. We are all going to be less inclusive than we should be. If nothing can be pure, on what basis are we determining a work’s purity? What microaggressions and erasures are being overlooked by the person evaluating a creation as “pure”?

Isn’t, in fact, the ability to determine something pure an act of privilege? And if we acknowledge that this is so, why is this a remotely useful determination?

Can we, please, have conversations that talk about media’s flaws and failures along with its strengths and successes? Conversations that understand why someone doesn’t watch it (on the basis of the harm it causes) but also doesn’t judge someone for watching it (on the basis of inclusion and acceptance)? Conversations that go beyond the incredibly limiting and unhelpful narrative of pure or not pure? Conversations that don’t slam minorities for engaging in less-than-pure media because that’s the only representation they can find?

As a multiply minority person, I have to wade through a lot of media that is horrible in other ways just to get a few bright spots of inclusion. Should I not talk about that? Should I hold out for the correct, mythological “pure” media (that doesn’t exist at all) that gives me representation without harming anyone, knowing that will never happen? I have privilege and ignorance, meaning I will not recognise a great many hurts perfection-by-my-evaluation causes others, so how can I hold out for something I deem “pure” when it won’t and can’t be? Or should I lie and brand the flawed media I consume as “pure”, even though that’s a slap to the face to those many people who are hurt by its absences, by the author’s ignorance, by poor handling? Which is also a worthless evaluation?

We shouldn’t have to pretend something is pure just to justify our enjoyment of something that is, like all of us, human and flawed.

When I see someone describe a work that is ableist or cissexist or hurtfully amatonormative as “pure”, I feel sick. It tells me that my pain doesn’t matter; this “pure” work can stomp all over me because I don’t need to be included.

When I see someone describe a work that is ableist or cissexist or hurtfully amatonormative as “ableist and cissexist and hurtfully amatonormative but I read it for X reasons that appealed to me”, I feel included, acknowledged, understood. It tells me that they know the work has problems and they’re not ignoring those problems in any discussion about it.

Or even when they just say “I liked it for X reasons”, I feel like there’s space to discuss my problems with it. Space that doesn’t involve me slamming up against the realisation that another reader thinks an author that disregarded me has created a “pure” work. “Pure” shuts down discussion. It says something is socially acceptable and silences other viewpoints.

Please, tell me: what possible benefit is there in labelling a creative work as “pure”?

Why has this become the norm in evaluating media? Why has it become the metric on which we base whether or not works are socially acceptable to consume?

Why are we using a word with such a damaging and judgemental history?

anonymous asked:

" In the early days, when he said it to Obi-Wan, it was probably more subconscious than anything" Okay, but Obi-Wan knowing that when Anakin calls him "My Master" instead of Obi-Wan, he know it doesn't mean shit, but doesnt click about slavery

That’s about the slice of it, yeah.

When Anakin says things like, “I’m deeply sorry, Master,” Obi-Wan hears it for the complete snark it is. But he doesn’t make the connection with Tatooine or slavery. And, in fairness, I don’t think Anakin actually makes the connection either. At least not consciously.

But I think it’s very significant that Anakin calls Obi-Wan “my Master” on Mustafar. Because that’s when he’s lashing out. He thinks the Jedi are evil, and (maybe more importantly) he thinks the Jedi have been controlling him, and want to do so still, and he sees himself as breaking free. (He’s deluding himself, of course, but I’ll come back to that.) And suddenly, Obi-Wan isn’t “Obi-Wan,” or even “Master” - no, now he’s “my Master.”

But you know who else is “my Master” - is always and only “my Master”?

Yeah, it’s Palpatine.

Anakin never calls Palpatine simply “Master.” He always adds the “my.” Every single time. It’s the clearest indication we get, imo, that he’s not deluding himself anymore. That he knows full well that he’s Palpatine’s slave.

By the time we get to the OT, he’s taken it up to 11 and we get the truly amazing, “What is thy bidding, my Master?” Which, if Palpatine had known Anakin Skywalker anything like as well as he thought he did, should have had him really worried.

(Incidentally, there are two ways of interpreting that line, but they both amount to the same thing.

The first way is to say that “thy” is technically the informal version of “your,” and that Anakin is being intentionally snarky by speaking to Palps in the informal you. Personally, I don’t buy this. Yes, it’s true that “thy” is grammatically informal, in the most technical sense. But in the actual practice and use of the word in modern English, it has effectively become the formal pronoun. It’s mostly used in order to sound archaic, a bit stiff, and yes, formal.

So the second way to understand this is: Anakin is being overly formal to the point of sarcasm. No one actually talks this way - not outside of bad pseudo-classical holodramas. But Anakin does, because linguistic resistance is really all he’s got.)

Love on the radio || AU

Sometimes it is hard to believe this is my life. How I got here, today doing what I love, making it a career - pure luck and privilege and talent. I managed to leave a shitty teenage marriage behind in a small conservative town and turn it into this: a framed music career. Awards, brand deals, adoring fans. My day was going great, early morning shoots and interviews out of the way, I was ready to relax. Until I get the call from my lawyer, and friend Finn: Talon had never signed the divroce papers @aravenwithagun

I have to keep stressing that it wasn’t until middle class white kids began to suffer under the cloud of heroin use, that senators, politicians, even officers began talking about the drug problem with more compassion. Joe Biden helped write the 94 Crime Bill, that Hillary championed, that Bill Clinton signed into law. This is a pure example of White Privilege, viewing Black pain as tolerable, punishable; even by the politicians, of the time, who claimed to be on the side of minorities. It’s easy to just treat the symptom, when you know that treating the sickness will cure a problem that you don’t want cured at all. One instance of misjudgment doesn’t always absolve all possibilities of redemption. However, in a position of power and influence, one instance of misjudgment can effectively ruin many lives, forever. The Clinton Administration, along with the legislators of the era, and their misjudgment on Drug and Crime policies resulted in the largest increases in federal and state prison inmates of any president in American HISTORY. It just stirs my fucking soul to hear politicians, Today, talk about the Heroin Epidemic with so much empathy and compassion. Where was this vision, when my community needed it?

Privilege says I’ll only listen to oppressed voices if they offer practical solutions to the problems that they describe.

Privilege says learn my language, my customs and my worship style — so we can all enjoy unity.

Privilege says the world’s problems would be solved if everybody were just like me.

Privilege says I can dress like a bum but still be perceived as edgy, unique or not materialistic, rather than homeless.

Privilege says I’ll only listen to oppressed voices if they communicate in a way that’s easy for me to understand.

Privilege says I have no cultural identity.

Privilege says diverse people should come to my church, on my turf, in my comfort zone.

Privilege says I’ve earned everything I’ve got.

Privilege says the characteristics of Jesus that are most evident in my culture are the most important ones.

Privilege says why are oppressed people always talking about oppression? Why can’t we all just get along?

Privilege says your perspective is tainted by your culture (your identity politics, if you will). I speak pure truth.

Privilege says I’ll only listen to oppressed voices if they describe their negative experiences in a super hopeful way and I leave feeling super hopeful.

Privilege says that reverse racism is real.

Privilege says I’ll only listen to oppressed voices if they come to my church/conference. I don’t see that in doing so, they risk being further marginalized by me.

Privilege says I’ll only listen to oppressed voices if they possess the kind of credentials that I value.

Privilege says I’ll only listen to oppressed voices if they listen to me.

Privilege says people who disagree with me are angry.

Privilege says I choose a church based on what is comfortable for me and my family.

Privilege says I would listen to oppressed people but they see everything from their unique cultural viewpoint. I, on the other hand, can see the big picture.

Privilege says I’ll be friends with oppressed folks, as long as they never call me an oppressor.

Privilege says your perspective is important, just not as important as mine.

Privilege says my culture naturally embodies more of the characteristics of Jesus.

Privilege says I’ll only listen to oppressed voices if they remain calm (in the way that calm means to me).

Privilege says let’s plan a conference and then after the fact invite diverse people to “add flavor.”

Privilege says this crosscultural encounter is uncomfortable. I’m leaving

Privilege says this oppressed person’s story is such a downer. Why can’t they be more hopeful and grateful?

Privilege says I’d definitely follow a poor/female/person of color leader. I just never have.

Privilege says I should get brownie points for being friends with oppressed people.

Privilege says I’m colorblind.

Privilege says I’ll only listen to oppressed voices if they repeatedly affirm that I’m a good person and not like other privileged folks

Privilege says this is the land of equal opportunity.

Privilege says I don’t have a cultural identity, but people who are different than me do.

Privilege says I’m not privileged.

—  Privilege Says by Christena Cleveland

anonymous asked:

What's wrong with amy being in bollywood when there's tons of indians in Hollywood ?

  1. There aren’t very many Asians in Hollywood, particularly South Asians. They’re actually one of the most underrepresented groups in Western media. 
  2. Bollywood is an industry largely consumed by a racially homogenous population. The issue of representation isn’t as pressing as it is in America, where media is consumed by an incredibly diverse audience but which doesn’t actually reflect that diversity onscreen. There isn’t, for example, a significant white population in India that can’t see themselves represented in global pop culture, but there IS a large viewership of Asians in America who have had to deal with that issue for decades.
  3. White supremacy still exists in India, and Amy only upholds the “white is better” ideology. The entire reason for her career is that she is as close as you can possibly get to ridiculous European beauty standards that are still being imposed on the Indian population and still “pass”, despite the fact that she’s not even Indian. It’s false advertising at best, and horribly unethical and damaging at worst. With the few Indians there are in Hollywood, they’re not handed careers SOLELY because of the color of their skin. In fact, it’s usually in spite of it (unless they’re playing a really stereotypical role) that they get work. But with people like Amy, that’s the entire basis for her popularity. It’s white privilege, pure and simple.
  4. More diversity in American media=challenging the status quo; white people playing Indians in Bollywood=maintaining the status quo in the most obnoxious, harmful way possible.

so i told my psych about the racist bullshit i experienced on my teaching prac and she literally said ‘but you basically look white so it can’t have been that bad!!!”  i’m gonna say this once and then we can move on: white passing privilege DOES NOT equal white privilege, privilege is purely circumstantial and whether you are a white passing poc or not, you do not get to judge another person’s racial experience, you do not get to invalidate their struggle, you do not get to erase their identity simply because it doesn’t appear obvious to YOU.

if someone is feeling prosecuted because they are not white, you do not get to poo poo their experiences of racism, especially if you are WHITE. White passing peeps acknowledge our privilege, but that privilege is not present in all places all the time. This has been a PSA. 

Ron Weasley: Not Your Sidekick

Let’s talk about Ron Weasley. 

Okay. Oh-kay. I’m going to probably have to do some calming breathing exercises to get through this one. I’ve been wanting to talk about Ron Weasley ever since The Big Dramatic Thing, and only now have I gotten around to it, because whenever I sat down to write it went (to borrow a joke) a little like this:

No, seriously. This whole debacle enraged me. Not because JKR said that she regretted putting Ron and Hermione together (because if you read the original interview she pretty clearly never said that, but rather simply that she put them together for very personal reasons, which you know, is kinda how writing should go)  but rather the fact that she implies that Ron leaving the group for a short while in the seventh book says “something very powerful” about Ron’s character, in the same way that Hermione staying said something very powerful about hers. 

Well, to that I say, yes. It does say something powerful about Ron’s character. His character is such that he will sometimes let wounded pride get to him. 

But it doesn’t say nearly as much about his character as the fact that he came back. 

Look, I’m not saying I hate JK Rowling or anything, because God knows that’s not true, but it does rankle me a little bit to trivialize what I thought the point she was making with Ron was. I thought the point of this arc, and the foreshadowing to it in Book 4, was that while true friends aren’t necessarily such that they won’t ever fight or get angry with each other, true friends will always come back. 

Ron is a boomerang, in the best way possible. I say this somewhat defensively, because I identify a lot with Ron. 

Ron isn’t perfect. In a lot of ways, he isn’t even what you would consider special. He isn’t the brightest wizard of his age, he isn’t the chosen one. But how dare anyone suggest that he isn’t a deserving character, a character worthy of praise. Because Book 7 Ron is still the same Ron who sacrificed himself on the chess board at age eleven. The same Ron who looked at barbaric, marble soldiers, smashing each other to smithereens, and thought, Yeah, I’ll take that blow for my friends. To save the world, I’ll stand in front of a sword. Those things could easily kill me, but I’ll take the risk. 

At an incredibly young age, Ron knew the value of unselfish leadership. Ron sacrificed himself early on. Earlier than most characters, in fact. He stood by Harry in the beginning, and he damn sure stood by him at the end. Any lapses in the middle are inconsequential, because he still pulled Harry out of that freezing water, he still destroyed that horcrux, as hard as it was. 

He learned from his mistakes. And luckily for Ron, he has a steep learning curve precisely because he has made a lot of mistakes to begin with. He’s a smidge prejudiced, to be honest. His pure-blood privilege shows through when talking about house elves and giants. But Ron is the one to suggest taking care of the House Elves in the final battle. 

Ron learns. He might not be done learning by the end of the series, but there is nothing to suggest that he will ever stop. And honestly, I find that way more valuable and compelling than a character who is boringly perfect from the start. Because what do they have to offer the reader? What are they teaching anyone?

Look, Ron Weasley is not a sidekick, even if there’s nothing inherently wrong with being a sidekick. Ron Weasley is not unworthy, he’s not undeserving. He’s a hero in his own right. A hero that took a little while to bloom, to come out from the shadows. He’s not the chosen one, he’s not special, but he’s still a hero. 

And honestly, from the bottom of my heart, I think fiction could do with a few more characters like that. Characters that show you there’s nothing wrong with a learning curve.

How is Hermione’s sacrifice to let her family behind greater than Ron’s?. Her parents are muggles, she changed her memories and sent them to Australia where they were safe. That’s a great sacrifice that costed her deeply, of course, there’s no point trying to diminish that, but how is it a bigger sacrifice than Ron’s?

Ron’s family is fighting in this war for the greater good, even when they are not part of the underdog group. Being in the good side is the reason why they are poor in the first place, because the other privileged pure blood wizards thought they didn’t have the proper “wizard pride” so they didn’t let Arthur Weasley have a better job in the ministry. They already lost family in the first war against Voldemort, both Molly’s brothers were killed because they belonged to the original order of the phoenix.

When Ron left his family to join Harry in the search of the horcruxes his brother Bill was already injured by death eaters. His brother George had already lost his ear. His father and brothers had to go to work every single day to the ministry of magic and other very traceable places. His sister had to go back to Hogwarts. The Weasleys weren’t hidden like Hermione’s parents or the Dursleys. They were in the middle of the battle with a big fat target in all of them. He knew that it was mandatory for him to come back to Hogwarts, so he created a fake Ron to pretend he was sick. If the trick hadn’t worked the Weasleys would have been imprisoned or killed.

So illuminate me. As great as Hermione’s sacrifice was (and of course it was great) how in the world is bigger than Ron’s?. 

A blessing in disguise ~ chapter 55

Authors note” Hey guys, I hope you guys like this chapter :)
Credit too bananaxstyles for the kissing scene backstage!! She deserves a follow plus she is super ncie and funny.

A blessing in disguise ~ chapter 55

“Alright you two.” Niall intrudes, making me pull away. “People are staring.” Niall clears his throat. “Fuck them.” I shrug, cupping Hayleys face and kissing her sweetly, “too much PDA.” Niall interrupts again and I flick him off subtly. I pull away from Hayley and she blushes, “sorry Niall.” She softly apologizes, “all good darlin’ but we need to get going, we are attracting quite some attention.” Niall gestures towards the people around us. I groan, kissing Hayley one last time, before, I take her suitcase then lace my fingers with hers. “How was the flight love?”

“It was alright, a little tedious but I managed.” Hayley smiles,

“Have you eaten?”

“No, the food was terrible, I’m starving.”

“Do you want room service or fast food?” I offer while we walk away from the nosy people. “Room service, jetlag is setting in on me, and I just want to feel the softness of a bed, and eat.”

“I’ll call for Liam to order us room service so it is ready when we get there.”

“Why Liam?”

“Because Zayn is probably asleep, and Louis will probably eat half the food.” I reply, feeling pretty happy that Hayley is with me. I feel as if a weight has been elevated from my shoulders. “Alright.” Hayley smiles, walking beside me as we make our way out of the crowded airport. I place Hayleys suitcase in the back of a black SVU, while the driver opens her door and lets her and Niall in the car. I jump in and signal for the driver to drive. I seize Hayleys hand and lace our fingers together, resting our hands in her lap. She grins up at me before resting her head on my shoulder. “I missed you.” I whisper,

“I missed you too.” She replies with an extensive smile, her eyes glimmering despite their tiredness. I see Hayley close her eyes and start to rest, so I allow her. I know what it’s like to be on an extensive flight, I have done it many, many times, getting off a long flight makes you feel drained, no matter how enthusiastic you are to see the person you’re flying too. The car pulls up to the back of the hotel where there are no fans or media. Niall thrusts the door open, and I rub Hayleys arm, “Hayley… Love.. Hayley.” I effort to wake her up nevertheless she just moans. “She’s out lad.” Niall laughs, getting out before the driver opens my door. I cautiously manage to get out of the car without stirring Hayley. I sensibly move her and hook my arm under her legs to lift her out of the car bridal style. “It’d be funny to draw on her.” Niall smirks,

“It would, but, very mean to do.” I nod, kissing the top of her head as she rests on my chest. I thank the driver before trailing behind Niall, into the building. I casually walk through the foyer with Hayley in my arms, not caring about those who are observing me. Niall and I gait to the elevator, hopping in before awaiting for our floor. “You really missed her, didn’t you?” Niall whispers,

“You don’t even understand.”

“What is it about her that has you like this?”

“I don’t know Niall.” I sigh, watching as the stainless-steel elevator doors open. I step out and walk down the noiseless and lively hall, to my room. “Thanks for coming.”

“Welcome.” Niall hits my back,

“I’m going to get you back.” I mutter, sliding the key into my door while still holding Hayley. “Yeah, I’ll be waiting.” Niall laughs, as I kick the door open. I pace into the clean and hotel smelling room, placing Hayley on the white bed. “Mmm.” She sounds in her sleep; I smile at her, remembering the suitcase is in the car. “I’ll be back my sleeping love.” I whisper, clasping the card for the room before leaving and getting Hayleys suitcase. I get to the lobby and the receptionist waves me over. “Your suitcase was brought in by the driver; we will have someone bring it up for you.”

“Thank you, I can take it up though.” I reply, seizing the suitcase. “Alright.” She smiles, allowing me to make the journey to my room with the luggage. I open the door and see Hayley sitting up. “Hi.” I greet, closing the door. A bright smile appears on her face, a smile that makes me want to melt. “Hello.” Hayley replies optimistically. I sit the suitcase down and sit on the bed next to Hayley. “How was your nap?” I inquire,

“Okay I guess.” She answers, still seeming jet-lagged, “you guess?”

“I feel tired still.” She chuckles.

“Why don’t you go back to sleep?”

“Because I want to talk to you.”

“What are we talking about?” I question, my eyes unable to pry themselves away from her. I haven’t seen her in three months and I want to feel her near me, I want to have her in my arms, I want her to tell me stories, even if they are fucking uninteresting, I just want to hear her voice and be appreciative that we are finally together. “I don’t know.” She shrugs just as there is a knock at the door. I get up and open the heavy door, revealing a member of hotel staff, holding a tray with our food. “Thank you.” I take the tray, placing it on the bed, before pulling my wallet from my back pocket and paying for the meal. I close the door and Hayley looks at the food, virtually drooling and licking her lips. “Dig in.” I smile, sitting beside her and starting to eat. “So what’s it like on tour?”

“Do you want the truth or a lie?”


“Okay, truth is, it isn’t what it’s made out to be. I mean it’s remarkable, I love performing but after so long, you get exhausted and drained, and I’m starting to get to the point of being worn-out. I wake up, get dressed, have a small amount of time to myself, go to the venue, warm up, do sound check, talk to everyone, go on stage, perform, go to the hotel or the bus if we are traveling or the airport and do it all over again.” I enlighten, watching Hayley steal one of my fries, “so what’s a lie?” Hayley asks, not looking away from her food, meanwhile I can’t help but just stare at her lovingly. “A lie, Uhm. It’s not stressful or strenuous, everything flows flawlessly and there are never problems, we always work well together and yeah.” I drone, trying to come up with a lie that is observable as total bullshit. “So, you like tour, it’s just demanding?”

“Pretty much.” I nod, watching Hayley take a bite from her hamburger that looks delicious, and mouth-watering. “Do you want a bite?” Hayley queries,

“Want a bite of mine?” I offer, looking at my untouched burger, she nods before she holds her burger closer to my mouth, allowing me to take a bite. “Tastes nice.” I swallow, picking up my burger and placing it at her lips, the lips I desperately want to kiss. “So does yours.” Hayley smiles after swallowing her bite.


My phone goes off, as a reminder that my tour day is demanding to start. I sigh, turning the alarm on my phone off before looking to see Hayley beside me, promptly waking up.

For the first time in three months I feel as if I have slept without worries. I had the privilege of Hayley asleep next to me, to have my arms around her and my legs tangled with hers. A pure, sweet privilege I haven’t felt in months, and something I took for granted before tour. I don’t feel the usual heave of stress on me this morning, but instead, I feel pleased and content with things. Maybe it is because Hayley is here with me, or maybe it is because I have a show tonight and my girlfriend will get to see me perform for the first time. I roll onto my side to watch Hayley, her eyes beam into mine, her smile widening as I gradually glide my hand down her arm. “Good morning.” I whisper, her soft skin brushing with my hand. “Morning.” Hayley exhales, “how’d you sleep?”

“Beside my boyfriend, how about you?” Hayley smirks cheekily, “beside some random girl that kept cuddling up to me, and calling me her boyfriend.” I joke,

“Oh, well, you shouldn’t have random woman in your bed.”

“No, I shouldn’t, I should be punished.” I mumble, leaning closer and brushing my lips with hers, “you should.” She whispers against my lips, before I take the chance and kiss her softly, slowly deepening the kiss. The fire inside me, makes me want to cup her neck and forcefully but gently pull her body to press against mine. To feel her heart beat against mine as our mouths lock and create the spark between us. My hands moves to rest on her waist as I push closer to her,

only to be pulled away from, as the door is knocked on. I groan, before deciding to disregard the knock and kiss Hayley again. “For crying out loud.” I huff, getting off the bed and opening the door. “Are you ready?” A security guard asks me, “for?”

“To be escorted to the car.”


“Your performance.” He raises his brow,

“I don’t have to be there until- oh fuck” I sigh, noticing the time. “I’ll be downstairs in five minutes.” I say, closing the door. I get on the bed and kiss Hayley sweetly, “I have a show, and do you want to come?” I whisper, before getting off the bed and putting on some decent clothes. “I guess.” Hayley gets out of bed and changes into a pair of black skinny leg jeans, a top with a cardigan. “I just need to fix my hair.” Hayley rushes to do her hair while I put on my shoes and wait for her to get done.

My p.o.v

Harry steps out of the car and takes my hand, taking me towards the stadium, entering through what I assume, is a secret door, in an area blocked off from fans. I walk down the dark and cold halls with Harry, taking in the surroundings. “Does it get confusing? Walking around different arenas and stadiums?”

“If I am sleepy yes, you’ll probably witness my tiredness soon.”


“Yep, I’m known for my tiredness ways where I get lost trying to get to the bathroom.”


“Yes, last tour I was trying to find the bathroom after we changed from our stage clothes and had to wait for everyone to clear out because we didn’t get ready quick enough, and I couldn’t make my way around.”

“That must have been funny.”

“Not really, I don’t remember what happened after security helped me. I think everyone thought I was drunk or something.” Harry explains and I laugh. We get to an area that isn’t so narrow and closed. Backstage crew are walking around, fixing cables and giving us smiles. I walk behind Harry as he pulls me along, “come on love.” He pulls me to his side. I see security guards look at us and I instantaneously feel a little insecure here. “Hey, you need to get your hair fixed.” A woman smiles at Harry, her hair a bleach blonde looking colour. “Alright, one second. This is Hayley, my girlfriend. Hayley this is Lou, the stylist and family friend.” Harry introduces us,

“Hello.” I greet,

“Hi, I have actually heard a little about you, pleased to meet you.”

“You too.” I smile, walking with Harry into a different room. “So, now with you being here, this one here won’t be so grumpy will he?” Lou asks, making me shrug. “He’s been grumpy?”

“Very, he wouldn’t let me touch his hair the other night; he sat backstage and refused to do his hair.”

“Oh, why?” I ask, looking at Harry.

“It was fine how it was.” He mutters, looking at his phone while Lou starts to do his hair, “I don’t see why you have to do our hair. It’s fine how I have it.”

“It’s messy.”

“No it isn’t.” He shakes his head, making her huff. “Keep still.” Lou groans, doing something to his hair. “So, are you staying for the show Hayley?” Lou asks as I sit down in a free chair. “I plan on it.” I nod, rather eager to see Harry perform. I gaze down at my phone, just as someone else walks into the room. “Hayley, you came!” Luke’s Australian accent beams, “yes I did.” I nod, getting up and giving him a welcoming hug, despite Harry’s glare. “That’s good. Harry I bet you’re happy she’s here.” Luke smiles like a child hyped up on sweets. “Very.” Harry nods, irritating Lou as he bobs his head. “I’m done with you, go.” Lou huffs, getting cross with Harry’s endless movements. “Thankyou” he moans, standing up and taking my hand, pulling me to my feet. “What are you doing here Luke?” I request, viewing as Lou starts to do his hair. “I’m the opening performance.” Luke replies, while Harry tugs me out of the room. “Come on.” I protest and he smirks as he pulls me into a changing room. “What?” He queries harmlessly, his eyes gleaming down at me. “You’re so jealous.”

“Mm no I’m not.”

“Yeah you are.”

“No I’m not, because I get to do this.” He smirks, pulling me closer to him, locking his lips on mine and kissing me sweetly. My hands move and rest on his neck gently, his hands on my waist as our kisses deepen. His hand slowly moves and starts to wonder, I pull away, “what if someone comes in?”

“They shouldn’t.” He whispers, attracting me back into a profound kiss that captivates my heart and soul, instigating sparks to explode. My lips work with his, our tongues tied, our body’s locked together impeccably. I pull away from the blissful kiss, leisurely. Moving my plump lips to leave soft trails of kisses around Harry’s neckline. “No love bites.” He advises me, for the very first time. I nod and move my kisses to his jawline, back to his lips. My arms wrap around his neck, our bodies pressed together, chests rising us we continue our motioned kisses, covered in sweet and pure love, and affection. We hear a knock at the door and Harry pulls away, leaning his forehead against mine. “Harry? You have sound check.” Someone says, and Harry sighs. “I’ll be out in a minute.” He calls, before pecking my lips a few times. “Continue when I’m done?”

“Mmm maybe.” I nod, making him grin,

“I’ll be back.” He whispers kissing me one last sweet time before we pull away and walk out of the dressing room area serenely. Harry walks off towards the stage and I hear the sound tech people starting to get ready. “Why don’t you go watch?” Luke seizes my attention by surprise. “I uh, I don’t want to get in the way.” I shake my head, only for him to cutely laugh at me. “Come on you silly girl.” He waves for me to follow him. I follow him closer to the stage before I have a side view of the boys on stage. I smile as I watch Harry play with his in-ear, before singing to the first few rows of fans. “Uh, he’s got the nerves.” Luke comments, leaning an arm on my shoulder as he stands taller than me. “What do you mean?”

“He’s nervous.”

“How do you know?” I inquire, observing all five boys on stage, all of them seeming exultant and full of life. “He keeps clearing his throat.”


“He’s nervous.”

“He doesn’t seem it.” I frown, a little confused to how Luke can tell. “Believe me, he is.” Luke chuckles.


“Excuse me, Are you meant to be back here?” A hefty man asks me, and I nod timidly. “Do you have a pass?”

“A pass?” I question, unsure of what he means. I wasn’t given a pass, neither was Harry. “A pass to be backstage.” He gestures, looking at me with fierce eyes. “No I don’t.” I shake my head, looking around for Lou, the only person I know back here. “I’m going to have to take you outside. Do you have tickets for the show?”

“No.” I reply, feeling a bit anxious as he continues to glare at me. “I need you to come outside ma’am.” He instructs,

“I’m with Harry.” I explain but he shakes his head, “rules are rules, I’m not allowed to let anyone stay in here without a pass.” He clarifies, making me follow him out. He guides me through the different passageways before he pushes a door open and lets me out. I step outside into the cold air and he closes the door. I wait a few moments before trying to open it, but it is locked. I sigh eyeing around, unable to really make out where I am. It’s all shadowy, and to be quite honest, I’m a little worried to be in the dark on my own; in a place I have no idea about my surroundings. I lean against the wall, gripping my phone from my pocket, I try call Harry but have no service. Not that calling him would work considering he is onstage. I shiver, forcing my hands to rub against my arms to keep warm. My thin long sleeved top, not being enough to brave the cold air tonight. I try to send a few text messages but none of them send, so I try getting onto wifi, but of course, there’s no wifi at the venue. I sigh looking at the time, ten-fifteen; the show should be ending soon if it hasn’t already. I keep an eye on the time, formerly my phone dies then I stand alone in the dark. After having to keep an eye out for anything suspicious in the darkened area, the door I came out of opens. I push away from the wall, keeping a distance from the door, unaware of who is exiting. “Hayley? What are you doing? Harry’s been looking for you.” Zayn asks as he jerks his jacket on. “Uhm, you know, the usual, I decided to freeze outside.” I shrug, “Now I know what Harry means by you’re moderately sarcastic.” Zayn chuckles, the door opening and Harry stepping out. “Why are you out here? I’ve been bloody looking for you?” Harry promptly crosses his arms. “Hello to you too, yes I am fine, just freezing cold, thank you for asking.” I sigh, my body quivering. “Why are you out here?”

“I was kind of told I am not allowed where I was.” I answer, not sure if Harry needs to know or not. “What do you mean, come here, you’re shaking.” He instructs, making me take a step closer to him, “well the security requested for a pass, a pass I have no idea about, and he said that he isn’t allowed to let people stay without a pass, so here I am.” I explain, Harry’s arms wrapping around me, body heat radiating off him instantly. “Geez you’re nice and warm.” I exhale, “so, a security guy left you out here?”

“Yes, he could have given me a damn torch.” I mutter,

“How long have you been out here?”

“Uhm, over an hour.” I answer,

“Why didn’t you text or call anyone?”

“I have no service, I tried, and my phone died.” I reply through shuddering teeth.

“Come inside, you’re too cold.”

“No, I don’t want to go back in, security will get onto me and they scare me.” I shake my head. “Well this I’ll just run in and get my stuff, don’t move.” Harry unwraps his arms from me, walking back inside.

Harry comes out and we say goodbye to Zayn before we get into a blacked out car, with a private driver. “The hotel please.” Harry instructs,

“Can we stop and get something to eat? I’m hungry.” I softly ask,

“Do you want food from the hotel?”

“Uhm, yeah that’ll do.” I nod, getting comfortable as I look out the window, observing cars pass by aimlessly. The car halts and Harry gets out of the car before I step out. Stunned when I see fans all around. I stare at Harry a little concerned, not used to any of this. Harry takes my hand, and holds it tight, before we tread towards the crystal doors of the hotel, only to be unexpectedly swarmed by over enthusiastic fans. “Oh my.” I let out, everything becoming a distortion as people haste around us, trying to pull at Harry. I squeeze Harry’s hand before he lets go, immediately wrapping his arms around me, while everyone is huddling around us, like penguins trying to keep warm. I’m pressed against Harry’s chest as he sighs, “Excuse us.” He graciously lets out, but nobody listens. I pull away from Harry’s chest, his arm staying around me, “babe try walk.” Harry whispers, and I do as he says. Cameras and phones are thrown in our faces, fans attempting to take ‘selfies’ with him. I feel violated, very violated. I don’t understand why they can’t just keep a distance. I’m sure if they asked kindly Harry would take pictures with them, maybe. Security manages to barge their way through and get us out of the swarm. We step inside and I let out a breath of relief. “What just happened?” I question, a little shaken up by then whole ideal. “We were mobbed.”

“Does this happen often?” I question, looking around the empty lobby. “Not often.” Harry shakes his head, making me bite my lip. “Come on, let’s go to the bar and order food.” Harry takes my hand, pulling my outside to the pool area where there is a bar to order food. “Doesn’t room service end?”

“I’ll give them a tip.” Harry shrugs, before ordering us some food.

I walk into the hotel room after talking to the receptionist downstairs, as I close the door quietly I notice Harry soundly asleep on the bed, sprawled out cutely, still in his jeans. I smile to myself, walking closer to the bed, moving his phone from where it has fallen from his grip, placing it on the side table. I swiftly change out of my clothes before turning the lamp off and getting in bed, falling asleep. I wake up to Harry moving around and mumbling in his sleep. I overlook it as the usual dreams everyone has where you move a little bit. Harry continues to move drastically in the bed. I sigh before gradually shaking his arm. He wakes up, his breathing heavy, “it was just a dream.” I assure him, kissing his bare shoulder. He nods and takes a few deep breaths, my lips still kissing his soft skin gracefully. “Are you okay?” I whisper,

“Just a bad dream.” He huffs, lying on his back, looking up at the ceiling.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I offer, placing another kiss to his warm and tanned skin. “Mmm I don’t remember precisely what happened, but it felt real.” He clears his throat, sitting up, “do you want a glass of water?” I question, sitting up and placing my hand on his back; his back which feels a bit sweaty. “I’m going to get it.” He replies, getting off the bed and I feel it spring a little. “Okay.” I nod, staying in bed while he grabs a glass of water. He climbs back into bed and lies on his side; he drapes his arm around my stomach already closing his eyes and falling asleep. I wake up to a silent hotel room, shocked an alarm hasn’t blared and woken us up. I roll onto my side and grip my phone, the bright screen feeling as though it is blinding me. My eyes squint a few times before I see the time. ‘One-fifteen’ I sigh and put my phone back down, my stomach growling, demanding some food. I get up and make my way to the minor bar fridge, peering in to see if there’s anything to indulge in. Sadly all I find is over-priced alcohol, some milk and bottle of water, compliments of the hotel. I sigh closing the mini fridge before getting on the bed. “Just ring room service.” Harry mumbles,

“What?” I question,

“Ring for room service.” He again states, moving onto his stomach and holding the pillow. “We can’t live off of room service.”

“Well I’m not getting up to get a four course meal.” Harry yawns, pushing the covers off his body. “I don’t even know where I am.” I sigh, thinking about going out of the hotel to get something to eat.


For the second night in the row, Harry tugs me through the paths of the stadium, pulling me to the backstage area. “So, what happens if I get kicked out again?” I question,

“Well, I’ll make sure you don’t get kicked out.” Harry clarifies, looking at his phone before sitting down on the small couch. I sit down alongside him, his hand finding its way to rest on my thigh. “Harry, you’re early.” Zayn chimes, walking in with a beverage of some sort in his hand. “Wait, Harry is here before us? Is he drinking?” Louis questions, seeming astonished by the fact that Harry arrived before the others. Louis looks at us before smirking, “I know why he is here before us.” He chuckles, walking away with a wide grin. “I don’t see what the big deal is.” Harry shrugs, putting his phone down, leaning closer to me and kissing my cheek. “I’ll be back, don’t move.” He instructs, pushing himself off the couch and walking away. Niall walks in and gives me a welcoming smile. “Harry’s here?” He asks, the 5SOS boys striding in right behind Niall. “Yes.” I nod, waving at Ashton. I haven’t had a conversation with Callum or Michael but they both seem very lovely. One of them has crazy coloured hair that suits him and brings out his personality, I quite like it. It’s different, bold and daring; something a lot of people in society aren’t. “Hayley how are you?” Ashton asks me, plopping down beside me, “great, how about you?”

“I’m mighty great thank you. So Luke here told me he told you a little about Australia?”

“Yes, he informed me on a bit.” I nod,

“He said something about the football.”

“Yes, I remember once seeing Niall in a picture of red and white, I think with a swan.” I answer, noticing Niall walk closer to us, “they’re the Sydney Swans.” Niall enters the conversation, “oh, right, that’s where Luke is from, right?”

“We are all from Sydney” Ashton comments, “oh, yeah I knew that.” I sarcastically chuckle, “what else do you know?” Ashton questions,

“Uhm, not much, Luke lost his phone in Melbourne.” I answer,

“Okay, I have a question, you know how everyone thinks the British like tea, it’s the stereotype? What do you think the stereotype for Australians is?” Luke asks,
“hmm, that you guys say mate a lot, which I don’t get because British people say mate too. Oh and that Australia is all dessert.” I smile, just as Harry walks in. “I totally lived in the desert.” Ashton jokes,

“Oh yeah?”

“Yep, it was blistering during the day, stony during the night.” Luke laughs,

“But in all honesty, that’s how the weather sometimes felt, Scorching during the day, and suddenly cold. It’s like four seasons in one day over there.” Ashton comments, moving over so Harry can sit next to me. “Thanks pal.” Harry puts an arm around me. “Hey, have you spoken to your sister?” Ashton somewhat softly questions, “no.” Harry shakes his head, watching as Luke starts to pace around. “What’s up with you suddenly?” I question, muddled to why he is pacing around abruptly. “Nothing.” He shakes his head and Harry rolls his eyes. “Are you nervous?” Harry stretches, looking at Luke. “No.”

“I think you are.” Harry comments, making Luke sigh. “Go take a walk.” Harry instructs, “no.”

“Go.” Harry presses, leaving me even more confused. Luke walks away and Ashton is pulled away by some person with a clipboard. “What’s that all about? Why did you tell him to walk?” I ask, “He’s nervous, I know what it is like to get nervous. Walking benefits.”

“But you don’t like him, why would you try help?” I let out,

“I don’t like him, but it doesn’t mean I’m going to watch as his nerves eat him alive.” Harry whispers, making me smile. I’m glad that he is being pleasant and trying to help Luke with nerves. The boys are called to sound check and Harry leaves me with a kiss to my cheek.

After Harry did his sound check, I went back to the hotel to get my pills, completely forgetting about them until I had a random flashback to not taking them this morning. “Harry” I smile as I enter one of the rooms’ backstage where the boys currently are chatting, few management members on the other side of the room. The security guard leaving my side. I see Harry wearing one of his other t-shirts, he must of gotten changed after sound check. Harry’s head shoots up as he hears my voice, a wide smile on his handsome face occurs. “Hayley” He says, and stands up. The boys’ heads turn to my direction and they all greet me. “I missed you, it’s been a whole hour” Harry chuckles jokingly and grins as he walks right in front of me, kissing my forehead, my face almost against his chest, and then he pulls me into his arms. His body’s warm spreading to mine. I breathe a bid harder and louder than usual. I nestle my cheeks to his pec, I giggle a bit. Harry suddenly bends down, places his hands on the back of my thighs, lifts me up as I wrap my legs around his torso. He starts to walk to the hall. “Don’t be too loud, please” Louis shouts. “Shut up Lou” Harry shouts. I’m too focused on his lips that I really don’t care where Harry is taking me. I bit my lip as I stare at Harry’s pink, plump lips. I can feel Harry’s eyes burning on me. I lean a bit forward and take his lower lip between my teeth and lightly bit it. Harry uses his right hand to open some door and his left one to support me. “This is getting heated” Harry smirks while I’m blushing big time. He slams the door closed by his feet and lets me down. my breathing is not steady, I’m too carried away. Harry pushes me gently against the cold wall, his body pressed against mine, sharing its heat. His arms are placed on the both sides of my head, there is no escape. I gulp silently as I observe the size of his arms, tanned and trained, and even now, when they are not even flexed, I can see the power in them. Three months ago I would never have notices his arms. Harry places his lips against mine, our lips melt perfectly together, and still after all these months, the same butterflies fly all over my stomach. My mind goes through a lot of thinks that might get Harry going crazy. I pull away from the kiss, biting my lip and and watching Harry’s surprised expression. I came to the final decision, I shakily lean a bit forward, place my hands on his biceps, and kiss him again. Harry flexed his arms as soon as I touched them, sending shivers all over my body. “They are so big” I mumble into the kiss. “I know, I know, and they all are for you, only you” His voice echoing all over the room as I run my hands on his forearms, on his biceps and triceps, shoulders, then I get this wild idea. I grab his shirt and pull it all over his head, his hair brushing against my hands as I expose his chest and abs. Harry looks very cheeky at the moment, grinning widely and as soon as I place my hand on his chest, he pushes it forward, making it look even more bigger. His head drops back when I start to press his chest lightly, kinda massaging his pecs. Harry’s neck vein is getting thicker and thicker and I reach up to kiss it. Then I kiss his jawline, my hands still on his chest. Leaving wet marks all over his jaw, I move to his neck, kissing it, licking it, biting it. I make a few love bites to his neck, Harry moaning my name softly. I grin and continue to his collarbone, Harry’s body flinches a little but I don’t mind. Then I start to kiss his big, broad chest, every inch of it. I lean down, lowering myself so I can reach his abs, those six gorgeous, big, strong abs. My hands slide to his side and I kiss each one of them. Then all of the sudden I feel two large, shaky hands under my arms, lifting me up, pushing me against the wall, again. “H-Hayley, I see you enjoy my muscles” Harry smirks, starting to kiss my neck. “Y-yes” I shriek as he hits my weak spot. “Good girl” Harry says when he lifts his head a bit so he can face me. “Love you know I need all my energy for the show, right?” Harry pouts. “Yes” I sigh, kissing his cheek. “But after the show, when I’m full of adrenaline, you can have me, and I can have you, whole night, no one to stop.” He winks. I grin and place my lips against his, this time I push my tongue in, moving it carefully. At the same second Harry’s tongue thrusts to my mouth, tangling my tongue. My hands run to his hair, messing his curls around. Harry’s breathing shakes a bit, he tightens the grip around my waist and kisses me harder, much harder. His lips pressed against mine with a lot of power, His tongue going wild, I can tell that again, I hit one of his weak spots, his hair. It only took me this long to work out his weak spot. We open our eyes at the same time and just stare at each other, Harry’s eyes shining. I smile and poke Harry’s dimples. He chuckles and cups me hand. He pulls me into another kiss, a short one. “I love you Hayley” He smiles. “I love you, too” I giggle. “C’mon, lets get going before the others come to look for us” He takes my hand and starts to move to the door. “Harry did you possibly forget something” I laugh, and watch his bare stomach. Then it hits Harry “Oh yeah, whoops” He laughs and pulls the shirt back to cover his torso before pulling me into his embrace “Lets get going” I say and pull back. Harry right behind me, we walk to the hallway, trying to make our way back to the other boys.

I stand backstage viewing as the boys perform, Harry seeming a little weary but performing well. “Well it’s almost time for that time of night where we have to say goodbye.” Liam explains to the crowd, ruining their night by having to leave. “We’ll be back though, but we do have a few more songs.” Harry comments, eyeing over at me, he smiles widely, giving me a wink and I wave at him, somewhat wishing I was in the crowd instead of on the sides. “I love you.” Harry precipitously speaks into the microphone, taking me by total disbelief. “I love all of you.” Harry comments, looking towards the crowd, covering up his ‘I love you’ to me. “Wow, that’s something sweet.” Ashton comments from behind me. “What?”

“He just told a whole stadium he loves you.”

“I uh, yeah.” I blush, feeling all bizarre on the inside, I didn’t expect him to do that, I don’t think he did either to be reasonably honest. “He must really care about you.”
“I guess he does.” I nod,

“You guess? Girl, don’t guess, you should know.” Ashton laughs,

“Do you think he really cares?” I softly ask,
“if he didn’t, he’d never say I love you into a microphone.”

“It was on accident.” I comment,

“Either way, he did it.” Ashton shrugs, walking away. I continue to watch the show, waiting to go back to the hotel room. Harry comes off and immediately kisses me, “give me a minute to change.” He murmurs against my lips, hurrying off to change. “Hayley, what have you done to him?” Niall laughs,


“Never mind, how long are you staying on tour for?”

“I’m not sure” I shrug before Niall goes to change.

We reach the hotel and enter through the back door, not wanting to get mobbed again. We get to our room and I walk to the bedroom, sinking onto the bed, Harry behind me. He beams before seizing my attention. He kisses me sweetly, pulling me closer, our bodies pressing together. “I’ve missed you so much.” Harry mumbles against my lips, “I missed you too.” I whisper, kissing him deeper, “I missed this.” Harry sighs, leisurely pushing my top up as we are in the middle of a kiss, he manages to take the top off, moving from my lips to leave damp kisses on my neckline and collarbone area, making me exhale. I know what he wants, I want it too, but I just feel now isn’t right. After three months of not being together, what if I mess up? Again. What happens if I’m not good?

“Hayley? What’s wrong?” Harry asks, placing a hand on my waste, “I uh, I just- I’m sorry.” I breathe, moving away and getting of the bed. “Love?” He questions,
“I need to just- I’ll be back.” I stammer out, confused to what I am doing and why I am doing it. I pace out of the bedroom and hurriedly put on the first thing I see. One of Harry’s flannels he left on the couch. I button it up, clutching the room key. I unexpectedly feel Harry grasping me softly, “Hayley, what’s going on?” He requests, making me face him. “I just, I just want a few moments to think and clear my head.” I softly whisper,

“Okay, be careful.” He nods, pressing a soft kiss to me lips.