slick bun

I Slapped Your Ass in Greeting

John Laurens x Reader, ft. Alexander Hamilton

Modern AU

Author: Lil Lambie

Words: 1984

Warnings: Mild swearing, social anxiety, butt slapping mentions of alcohol, and violence

Request: (Anon) :I thought you were my friend so I slapped your ass in greeting AU please!

A/N: At first I didn’t think I’d be able to do this one, but I totally fell in love with it and it all game together. I love this one so much. As for the anon, that brought up our faults in our schedules, I’m really sorry. We are really going to try and stick to the schedule this week, unlike last week which was awful. Enjoy!

“Excuse me, excuse me.” you whispered as you tried to navigate the crowd. Your friends had abandoned you and you were left in a terrifying crowd of punks. You were sure that they were all nice once you got to know them, but they were intimidating from the outside, and you could barely speak because you were choked up with fear.

You shifted with the long line to the concert. You popped in your earbuds and tried to calm down and listen to some music. You texted your friends, begging for them to come back or at least take you home.

They were your ride, and as of now, you would have to find a way home. You frowned when you glanced down at your battery. It was already below 50%. You envisioned yourself in the worst possible scenario, getting thrown into the mosh pit, suffocating from beer, smoke, body heat, and of course social anxiety.

At the thought of this, you turned up the music a little louder, trying to drown out your thoughts. It was getting dark and the concert was about to begin. You had no idea what you were going to do. You considered hiding and crying in a restroom for majority of the concert and hope your phone had enough battery to call someone to pick you up.

“Hey, sexy!” you felt a swift slap across your butt.

Your face instantly turned red. Every part of your body turned red hot. Anxiety coursing through your veins.  Your heart pounded in your chest. Your stomach dropped.

“Ohmygod!” you turned around to see a man, completely red staring at his hand and back at you. “Ohmygod. I am so sorry. I thought you were-I-I.”

You stared at disbelief at the man. He was short and had curly dark hair, that poofed under his red baseball cap. The cap was torn and frayed on the edges with a bit of sweat around the bill. His freckles were like stars compared to his red tomato face.

“I am so so so so sorry! I thought you were my friend and I-”

“Your girlfriend?” you blurted out.

“What? No. My boy-I mean my best friend. Alex. Alexander Hamilton? He’s about yeah high,” he waved the air just below his neck, “full of angst, anger, long dark hair but smooth. Kinda like mine but straight.”

You laughed.

“What? Excuse me?”

You blushed. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to…” you looked down and tried to avoid his eyes.

“What’s so funny?” he asked in a joking tone.

“Nothing, it’s just… you started out saying boyfriend, then you said he was straight and you said you have curly hair-which I mean you do, it’s beautiful-but then it was like the implied joke that you know you aren’t straight and ohmygod I’ll shut up. I’m sorry.” you were rambling and your words jumbled into one, long, run on sentence.

You expected him to yell or defend himself.

He replied with a grin and laughed. He extended his hand. “I’m John. John Laurens. You can call me, J, J La, Laurens, Johnny, Jonathan, frankly you can call me whatever you like.” he chuckled. You took his hand and shook it tentatively.

“I think I’ll just stick with John…J La.” you laughed.

He smirked. “So forgive me, let’s forget about my friend for one moment. But, you seem like a fish out of water here.”

You laughed and nodded. You and John walking to keep up with the moving line. “Yeah, I came with some friends but they ditched me. Also, they were my ride. So, I’m kind of just stuck here. This night has been pretty awful so far.”

“Well, that’s nothing a few beers, dancing, and good music can’t fix.” he smiled.

“Shouldn’t you find your friend, Alex, or something?”

“Nah, he’s fine. Probably lecturing some poor old punk about classic rock and such. He actually kind of likes heavy metal, but I dragged him here with me.” John pointed to his shirt, pointing at the Aerosmith logo. “I love classic rock. But yeah, he’s probably fine. You wouldn’t mind sticking with me would you? I just..I just don’t want you to get lost or overwhelmed because your friends were such assholes-oh,” John blushed, “sorry, that wasn’t my place.”

You shake your head. “You weren’t wrong.” you sighed. “But, I guess I’ll have to take you up on that offer, considering that I well have no one else except me, myself and I.”

John smirked back at you. “You wouldn’t mind if I held your hand then?” he blushed. “Ya, know…so that we don’t get separated or anything…”

“No, not at all.” you threw your hand into his. A warm feeling washed over your body. It wasn’t anxiety anymore. You couldn’t explain it.

You and John continued to talk, he talked a lot of about Alex, and then asked about you. You let him pull you a few rows behind the mosh pit. You started to scream at each other, because the band was doing soundchecks and the crowd was chanting and cheering.

“So, you work at a pizzeria?” you asked.

“Yeah, I actually own it. Just on a college campus not far from here. Originally, I was just an apprentice at the old place, but the old man moved and gave it to me. She’s my little baby. Kind of like Alex.” he laughed. “I swear we aren’t a thing. He’s just my odd wing-man/best friend.”

“Suuuure.” you laughed.

“New York City!!!” one of the frontman singers screamed into the microphone. His hair was long overgrown and thinning fast with old age. He must have been touring for at least half a decade now and was closer to a hundred. The man who was a classic rock legend of his era, was almost a century. But he still had the sound pipes of an angsty thirty year old.

You and John quickly got pushed into the mosh pit.

“John!” you screamed as you lost his hand in yours.

You found yourself in the middle of screaming, sweating, violent, and drunk psycho fans. One elbowed you in the face telling you to ‘shove it’ along with many non-family friendly words. You winced at the throbbing in your nose. You were slowly pushed into the depths of the pit, around everyone’s stomping feet. Someone stepped on your hand.

“John!” you screamed.

You heard a distant shout at the bottom of the feet. Every time you tried to stand up, you got pushed under like trying to resurface the ocean with a wave crashing over your head. Except, instead of white rimmed waves, cigarette ashes and beer fell over your head.

The next moment was filmed with absolute sailor profanity. A fight broke out around you. More so than before. And in the middle of it was a short, freckled-faced, curly haired man. You watched, with tears running down your face, blood running from your nose, as John took a broad looking guy, covered in tattoos.

John hit him with an uppercut punch, and finalized it with a punch to the gut. Anyone who stepped in his pathway ended up with a broken nose and intense bruises. You watched the anguish on his face, sweat dripping down his temples, cap being pushed around. When everything was too loud and panicking to bear, your vision went black.

Strong arms hooked themselves beneath your arms, secured you and pulled you back. The arms dropped from yours, to under your back and legs.

When you could see again, the lights and blaring of the concert was a haze.

“You’re okay!” John cried.

Another man, equally short squatted over you. His hair was dark and slicked into a messy bun, with a scrappy beard.

“Here, take this.” the nameless man said, placing a cold ice pack to your face. John ran to grab a paper towel and helped stop the nosebleed.

“John.” you cried softly, shaking your head. Your tears turned to laughter. “You are dead. You are going to get your ass kicked. You messed with some pretty scary dudes.” you laughed.

The nameless man grinned and slugged John in the arm. He said, “I’m Alex, by the way.”

You and John burst out laughing. You reached for his hand, struggling to calm the tremors in your body. He reached back for yours and met your eyes with a soft smile. He had a few scratches and bruises on his face. A single tear fell. He wrapped an arm around you and held you tight.

“I’m so glad that you are okay.” he cried. He shook his head and sniffed.

“Awww, you’re like a little baby, with snot running down your face.” Alex laughed at John.

John laughed and tried to ignore him. “You know, if you aren’t too traumatized, we could go back to the concert-” he paused when he saw the look of discomfort in your eyes, “-or I was thinking more sensibly, we could go eat an old diner or grab a drink and dance there with no possible chance of a Lion King stampede.” he joked, in a light manner.

Alex shook his head at him. “Too soon man.”

“It’s fine.” you laughed.

“No! I’m taking about Mufasa! It’ll never be okay! He tried to save his son, and he died!” Alex sobbed.

You cocked your head at John, a sly smile on your face. “Is he okay? Is he joking?”

John shrugged. “No one knows.”

John stood up and helped you up. He pulled you into him, an arm around you, the other hand in yours. “Shall we go get a drink then?” he smiled.

“Yeah! Five tequila shots, on John!” Alex snatched the car keys from John’s pocket and started running towards the parking lot.

“I was thinking more like just the two of us.” John laughed.

Alex stopped and looked at John, awful concerned. “Don’t you think that’s quite rude?” he gestured to you.

“I meant (Y/N) and I.” John frowned.

“Well, you need a third wheel for stability right? Buy me five shots and I’ll hang out by the jukebox. You guys won’t even notice me.”

John laughed and looked to you. You shrugged. “I call shotgun!” John shouted. He let go of you and make a quick jump forward.

“No!” Alex screamed. “I don’t want to drive!” Alex booked it to the parking lot.

“Why’d you do that?” you asked. John hadn’t took off running.

“So that I could do this.”

John yanked you forward and kissed you. He had a sharp intense grip on you and kissed you fiercely. Until he softened and melted into the kiss. His grasp softened to nothing and his hand slipped to your hair. To your chin. He brushed his hands down slowly and gently. John’s lips hurt a little bit against yours because of the bruises, but you kissed him back.

“Guys!” Alex came running back, out of breath. “What is taking you so long-oh, GROUP HUG!”

Before you and John could break apart, Alex threw his arms around the both of you.

“Why does he do this?” you laughed, uncomfortably, pressed up against John.

“To ruin the moment.” John laughed. “But, that’s nothing a swift punch can’t fix.” John broke from you, just a moment, to clock Alex in the shoulder, enough to stagger him but not to hurt him. John grabbed you and again and kissed you.

“I like this.” you said in between a kiss.

“I like this too.” John smiled. “I like you more.”

Time slipped by in John’s arms. Your head throbbed with an enormous headache, but it turned to a dull ache when you kissed John. You both ignored Alex’s protests as you kissed more intensely than before. The kiss was filled you with everything and simultaneously nothing.

Because, nothing seemed to matter in John’s arms.

Drunk Dialling

Originally posted by soaimagines

Originally posted by tswiftdirectioner


 Imagine your away on business and Chibs calls you because Juice is having an anxiety attack and wants you

Imagine being away on business and Chibs calls you to come home cause Juice is drunk and only wants you.

I combined these two requests cause they were so similar, I hope y’all don’t mind x also sorry these ones took me so long 

Also I am having total mind blanks when it comes to naming these so I apologise for the shitty titles lol

Text in bold is text messages x


‘I miss you babe. 😔’
You smiled at the message on your screen and quickly typed back.
‘I miss you more, Juan Carlos x’
Maybe it was attachment issues, maybe you were both ridiculously needy or maybe you were just two kids in love. Either way, neither of you were coping well with the sudden distance between you.
Ever since you had met Juice seven months ago you had been practically inseperable. It had started with countless nights spent in each others arms and eventually grown into a solid relationship. He had been warned by his brothers not to rush into anything, especially asking you to be his old lady. But when the boys had seen you two together they knew they had nothing to worry about. You were perfect for each other. You were his old lady and he was crazy about you. So crazy, in fact, that the second you had gotten into the cab to head for your business trip he was already sending you messages.
But it was only for two more days. Two down, two to go. And you would be home.
Juice hadn’t been very pleased when you had arrived home from the office and told him about your business trip.
Four days in the city. That was all. You could do it.
‘Impossible. Come home baby x’
You slid into the hotel bed and pulled the covers up around your neck as you typed back a message.
‘I wish, Juicy. Not long to go tho babe. I love you’
You curled your body into a ball and pulled the covers over your head.
The hotel was nice, the company had really gone all out. But it wasn’t home, and seeing the pristine room with the decorative cushions and generic paintings on the walls, and the sounds of the bustling nightlife below was a constant reminder that you weren’t in Charming.
It had been a big day, your boss had managed to cram eight meetings in and you were drained.
You came out of your blanket cocoon only to grab the remote and turn on the television mounted on the wall. But you didn’t watch the images flickering on the tv, you buried your head back under the sheets.
You fell asleep to the muffled sounds of traffic and a soap opera, oblivious to the text messages from Juice blowing up your phone.

The loud ringing of your phone woke you up and you groaned, your eyes squinting shut as the bright light of the screen in the dark room nearly blinded you.
Incoming call from Juice.
“You better have a good reason for waking me up, Ortiz.”
You raised an eyebrow and stifled a yawn as you rolled over.
The alarm clock on the bedside table read 3.47am.
“Are you drunk Juicy?” You grumbled into the phone.
“I mean I might have had a couple of drinks. Two. Maybe three.”
You rolled your eyes but a grin came on your face. You could never stay mad at Juice for long and drunk Juice was always adorable,
“Is that why you calling me at 3.47 in the morning?”
“I missed you.” He slurred.
“I miss you too, Juice.”
“Come home.”
You laughed and rolled on to your back and stared at the ceiling and the patterns dancing across it from the tv you had failed to turn off.
“I’ll be home tomorrow night babe.”
“Okay.” Juice said loudly.
“I’ll come to you baby I’ll be there soon.”
“Please babygirl, I need you.”
You sighed and chewed your lip. “I know baby.”
You could practically hear him pouting through the phone and it took another half hour before you finally convinced him to get some rest. Eventually he said goodnight and you hung up the phone.
It was 4.15am now and you knew you wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep, so you threw the covers back and headed for the shower.
One more sleep, and you could go back to Charming.

“And so, going off the data we gathered it seems that bringing more business back to Charming could benefit not only us, but the entire state of California.”
Your boss nodded approvingly at your words before taking over and addressing the rest of the people in the meeting.
You shuffled the papers in front of you when you felt your phone vibrating in your pocket.
You ignored it, knowing without checking that it would be Juice. He had already called you twice this morning and you had been forced to put your phone on vibrate so that his calls wouldn’t disturb any more meetings.
The phone went through to voicemail and you cleared your throat, trying to focus on the words your boss was saying.
The vibrating began again and you took a deep breath.
Juan fucking Carlos.
But a quick glance down to the screen proved you wrong.
Chibs’ name appeared at the top of the screen and worry instantly filled your heart.
Your boss had finished talking when you stood.
“I’m sorry, Ive got to take this.”
Your boss nodded and you excused yourself, shooting down your pencil skirt as you left the office.
As soon as the door was closed behind you you lifted the phone to your ear.
“Chibs? Whats wrong? Is Juice okay? Whats happened? Is he-“
“Calm down, lass.”
You took a deep breath.
“Is he okay?”
“Aye, physically he’s fine, love.”
You could sense the ‘but’ in his tone of voice.
“He needs you back here, (y/n). I’m sorry to call ye like this but you’ve gotta come home. We cant take anymore of this.”
You leant against the wall, a sense of relief rushing through you.
So he wasn’t hurt.
But you knew Juice suffered from severe anxiety attacks and by the way Chibs was speaking you knew things must be bad.
“I cant come home yet, Chibby.”
“Look, sweetheart. He’s rearranged everything in the clubhouse and I’m worried if he doesn’t stop whistling soon Jackie boy might send him unprotected into Mayan territory.”
You smirked into the phone. Whistling was a habit anxious Juice had picked up a while back and even though you loved him dearly, his whistling drove you mad.
“Keep him safe a little while longer? I’ll leave soon.”
“Aye. Hurry, love. I don’t think Happys too impressed with his whistling either.”
You laughed and thanked the Scot before hanging up the phone.
You had just slid it into your pocket when your boss walked out of the office.
“Everything okay?”
“Not really.”
You put your years of drama lessons in high school to work, and within seconds you had fake tears running down your cheeks.
“Its my dog, umm..Tiggy. He’s sick.”  It wasn’t really a lie.
Your boss wrapped an arm around your shoulders and squeezed you comfortingly.
“I need to get her to the vet.”
“Of course, (y/n). Take all the time you need.”
“Thank you.”
“I hope Tiggy gets better soon.”
“Me too.”
You wiped the tears away with the back of your hand and turned away, heading for your hotel room.
“Me too.” You repeated, smirking to yourself.

The cab pulled up in front of your house and the driver turned to you.
You could tell by the expression on his face that he was questioning why a woman dressed all in a business suit would be stopping at a house that was blasting 90’s rap music, but he accepted your payment and helped you get your bags out of the boot.
It was mid afternoon and the sun was still beaming down on you as you hauled your bags to the front door.
The music was so loud that Juice didn’t hear the front door open and you ditched your bags in the living room before kicking off your high heels.
You pulled your hair out of the slick bun you had been wearing all day and treaded across the carpet.
Following the strong smell of bleach that was drifting through the house you made your way to the bathroom.
Juice was shirtless, wearing sweatpants and yellow rubber gloves.
The bathroom was spotless and sparkling, and you wondered how many times in the last three days had he cleaned this room.
He was scrubbing the tiles in the shower, his back turned and you smiled to yourself as you studied his back muscles tensing as he worked.
A bucket of water sat in the centre of the room and you crept inane dipped your hands in the hot water.
“What the fuck?”
Juice practically yelled as he felt drips of water being flicked onto his bare skin.
He turned and when he saw you he nearly kicked the bucket across the room.
He wrapped his arms tightly around you, pulling you tight against his body and burying your face in his chest.
“Cant. Breathe!”
“Sorry.” He smiled at you sheepishly and released his grip on you.
“You missed a spot.” You said, pointing to a spot on the wall behind him.
“Where?” There was panic in his voice and he turned to the wall with wide eyes.
You instantly felt guilty but you tore your shirt from your body, exposing your bra.
He turned back to you, his brows furrowed but when he saw your half naked body he licked his lips.
“I missed you.”
“I missed you, baby.” He whispered, his hands grabbing hold of your hips.
“Why don’t you show me how much, Juicy?” You reached on your tiptoes and pulled his lips to yours.
Juice leant forward, reaching down and lifted you up, your legs wrapping around his waist.
He growled and you squealed as he arrived you to the bedroom and threw you onto the bed.

“Please don’t leave me again.”
You looked up at him, from your spot in the nook of his arm while the two of you were curled up together, naked in the sheets.
“i won’t, baby.”
He kissed the top of your head and traced patterns on your shoulder with his fingers.
“Im not.. good on my own.”
You sat up and took hold of his face, forcing him to look at you.
“Juan Carlos Ortiz, you ,listen to me. I am here. I will always be here.”
“But what if your boss wants to take you on another trip? Or you get sick of me? Or-“
You pressed your lips against his, silencing him. You left them there till you felt him relax and you pulled away.
“I’m not going anywhere. And if my boss wants to go away I’ll just tell him that our dog is sick and I cant leave him.”
“We don’t have a dog.”
You smiled.
“Not yet.”


@i-want-to-be-watered-by-roger @daniehelene27 @hellsmurf96 @thejulietfarciertlove @blustar02 @homicidalteenagedream @sons-of-anarchy-fan @trinasoftballgirl 

If you want to be added to the tag list for any or all Sons please let me know.x

dance trends through the seasons

feel free to add your own, this is just what i’ve observed over the last couple of years

2011/2012 jazz shoes + tan tights for lyrical dances

2012/2013 giant sock buns w big poofy bits at the front, also MUSICAL THEATRE

2013/2014 leggy dances to instrumental music

2014/2015 slick low buns w middle or side parts

2015/2016 contemporary’s with one-word titles that have nothing to do with the original song and/or the choreography

2016/2017 leotards of every shape, cut and colour

2017/2018 chemical compound names probably lets be honest

anonymous asked:

Yes. I mean Why is so special for u?

I love his personality. His wit. His sense of humor, because he is really sarcastic and stupidly clever. I love his silly/lame jokes and subtle comments that are so ON POINT. I love his charm. His charisma and cheekiness. I love his magnetism. I love his coolness. I love that I can’t take my eyes off of him regardless of how many people are around him. I love how he carries himself. How he lights up a room. He’s so aware and confident., but never cocky. I love that he can also be a little unsure and awkward. I love his vulnerability. His compassion. I love how he wears his heart on his sleeve and that he isn’t afraid to show emotions. I love how inherently silly he is sometimes and how he doesn’t take things too seriously. I love how he treats the people around him. I love how he tries to see the good in everybody, even if they haven’t deserved it. I love how protective he is. How much he genuinely cares. I love how good he his with kids. I love how he appreciates his fans. His patience and how he tries to make them all happy; by way of hugs, pictures and autographs, in all situations where it’s doable. He’s always the last one to leave the fans. I love how he’s never rude to paps even when they try to get a reaction from him or some sort of controversy. I love how he never falls for their cheap tricks. I love that even though he’s one of the most sought-after young men in the world and “everybody” wants a piece of him, he never complains about the extra pressure and the extra attention that he undoubtedly copes with. And you know it can’t always be as easy to deal with as he makes it to be… I love that he’s always humble and thankful. I love that he never shows off in an off-putting way. He’s ridiculously wealthy, hangs out with a lot of amazing people and does a lot of incredible things but he Instagrams pictures of his knees and doors and tweets completely unrelevant, odd things. I love that he uses proper spelling and grammar. I love his taste in music and movies because it’s so ridiculously similar to mine. I love his speaking voice, it’s the sexiest sounding voice I know of. I love his singing voice. It’s the epitome of what I like to listen to; deep, raspy, comforting, edgy, cashmere-like, full of texture and it continually gets better and better. I love how he changes up the notes during live performances. I love how he performs, how passionate he is about it and how he tries to do his best every single night. I love how you can tell how much it means to him. I love how much he’s smiling when he’s up there. His moves. EVERYTHING about the way he is on stage. He’s a total rockstar, born for this life, and I honestly can’t think of another 21-year old with as much stage-presence as he has. I love how much he interacts with the crowd. How he’ll even stop his verse to blow a kiss to somebody. How sometimes one kiss isn’t enough, and he’ll blow nine kisses just to make sure. I love it when he imitates the fans, and treats them like they’re his friends. I love how he tries to make them all feel seen.

I love his face, he’s gorgeous and he gets better looking by the day. I love how effortlessly sexy he is. His dimples, green eyes and pink lips. Jaw. Smile. Hands. Collarbones. Arms. Thighs. Legs. It’s all too good. I love that he keeps gaining muscle and getting bigger and broader. I love that he’s tall. I love his hair, whether it’s in a bandana, ponytail, slick, bun, casual or disheveled, curly or straight. He pulls it all off. I love his walk. I love that he genuinely loves fashion. For my taste and liking, he’s one the best dressed guys out there because he dresses exactly how I like guys to dress. I love how good he looks in black jeans and a simple white tee but also how he pulls off a suit. I love that he stays true to his style, but that he isn’t afraid of more quirky pieces. If he likes it he likes it, be that glitter boots or obscenely large hats. He always does his own thing and rides with that, and I have so much respect for that. I love his tattoos. I love that some of his tattoos mean seemingly nothing, but that he also has tattoos that holds connotations to his friends and family. I love his mannerisms. The way he talks, his intonation, accent, subtle little quirky things he does. I love that he’s a total sweetheart but also a dirty fuck. I love his mass-appeal. I love that even though somebody says they don’t listen to One Direction, they’ll admit to liking Harry. They all know who Harry Styles is. I love the impact he has on people. I love the way he looks at people, unwavering, and how they’re all that matters in that moment. I love that he’s an old soul and a true gentleman. I love how he shakes hands and greets everybody and treats everybody equally and with respect. I love how competitive he gets when they’re playing games or getting quizzed. I love his maturity and how he always takes the high road when people try to put him down or have some fun at his expense. I love how ridiculously cool and smart he is when it comes to handling the media and the fans. I love that he’s himself 100% through and through. I love that he drives motorcycles. I love that he can’t be mean even if he tries to. I love how much love there is in his heart. Yeah, that’s some of the things I love about Harry Styles ;)

The Dropout

George Washington x Reader

Author: Lil Laddie

Words: 1726

Warnings: Swearing, taunting, sexism, war, stress from school, fear of being a disappointment

Request: May I have a George Washington x reader where the reader was in college, one of the first women to get her education and realizes her lover (George) and family are counting on her, but she gets overwhelmed and drops out. (Kind of like Nina from ITH) - @the-depressed-fangirl

A/N: I hope you guys enjoy this! I’ve honestly never listened to or seen ITH, so I didn’t really in cooperate that and I’m very sorry about that. I hope that this is what you were looking for when you requested it. I love writing George Washington! Hopefully, I’ll be able to write more of him in the future. I love y’all! Have a simply amazing day!

“I’m never going to get this done.” You huffed, slamming your textbook shut.

You ran your hands through your hair in frustration. You had been working on homework for hours now and felt like you had gotten no where. You still had 3 more classes that needed assignments done by tonight. Going to college was driving you crazy.

You had agreed to come to the first college to accept women. You had fantasized of the idea of attending what used to be an all male college. Unfortunately, these fantasies you had were quickly crushed into oblivion. Even with the overwhelming work load and the topics that went over your head, you kept attending the college.

You sighed, resting your head in your hands. You felt an unbelievable amount of weight on your shoulders. You had your whole family counting on you. They were so proud when you were asked to attend this college, you couldn’t let them down. You didn’t want to disappoint them by not being strong enough.

“Miss (L/N)?” Your maid knocked lightly on your door.

“Come in.” You responded, standing up from the desk you had been sitting at.

“There’s a letter for you, ma’am.” The maid giggled, knowing it was from General Washington.

“Thank you so much!” You grinned, snatching the letter from the other women’s hands.

“Of course, ma’am. Let me know if I can get you anything.” She smiled before letting herself out.

The smile didn’t fade from your face as you opened the letter. It was a much needed break from all the stress school had been putting on you, his letters always calmed you down. George had been away trying to lead his army in war against the British. It had been misery to the both of you to be apart.

You opened the letter scanning it quickly to find where he and his troop had taken camp at. You could easily tell through his writing, the pain he felt as he sent men out into a battle that seemed almost impossible to win. You longed to be with him again and be far away from this hell you felt trapped in.

A chime rang from the hallway clock, signalling your need to leave for a night class you took. You sighed clutching the letter tightly before folding it gently back into it’s envelope. You straightened out your dress, exiting your home and starting the short walk to campus.

As you walked you could feel the eyes of many men on you. Most of the men that still came to school during the war were loyalists. With George Washington as your suitor, this gave the men on campus even more need to hate you. Not only were you a woman that was out of place, but you were also the significant other to the American’s General in the ongoing war.

The men didn’t even try to hold back the harsh words they thought as you passed. To them, you were nothing more than scum at the bottom of their perfectly polished shoes. They hated the thought of women attending a higher form of education. Many of them had scared away countless of girls, leaving you to be one of the last to stand your ground.

Making your way past a rowdy group of men, you keep your head held high. You would not let them see you suffering as they wanted you to. They didn’t need to know how stressed you were with the workload and the taunting. They had no right to know that the teasing had finally gotten to you.

“You don’t belong here!” One called out, the group of men deciding to follow you as you walked to your class.

“All women are good for is a nice time in bed!” Another one sneered, your fists clenching in anger at their words.

“You’re not smart enough to be here!” Another snickered, the group of men getting closer to you.

“Stop trying to be as good as us men! You’re never going to get there, love!” Another man yelled, the frustration you were trying to hold in was growing.

“Your man Washington doesn’t know how to lead those men. He’s leading them all to their death and eventually his. Why are you wasting your time on that traitor?” A man growled, his breath could be felt on the back of your neck.

“SHUT UP!” You snapped, turning to see the men with surprised expressions. “I deserve to be here just as much as any of you do. In fact, I probably deserve it more, but I’m not going to stay here being taunted by immature boys who can’t grow up. I’m done being treated like shit. I hope you all find some decency in your miserable lives.” You spat at them, pushing past them to go back to your small house.

You slammed open the door, pushing past your worried maid. You sprinted up the stairs, packing everything in your sight as fast as you could. You couldn’t do this anymore. You couldn’t do with the terrible things you had dealt with over the past few months. You were done with college.

“Miss (L/N)?” Your maid whispered, watching you with worry.

“Please get my carriage ready for me. I need to get to Valley Forge immediately.” You said, not looking up from your packing to look at her.

“Yes ma’am. Should I tell your father where you went?” She asked, making you freeze in place.

“No, he and my family must not know I left. I will tell them in my own time.” You said, knowing how disappointed your family would be in you.

“Yes ma’am.” She said, before running down the stairs to get everything ready for you.

You couldn’t wait to see George again, yet you were terrified to see how he would respond to you leaving college.


The journey to Valley Forge was tiring and you couldn’t be more than relieved when you pulled up at the camp. It was a little frightening though, stepping out of the carriage to be met with dozens of men staring at you. They had no idea who you were or what you were here for. To them, you were no less than a threat.

“I need to see General Washington.” You demanded to the group of soldiers that had gathered around you and your carriage.

“What do you need with the general?” A man asked, his poofy hair slicked back into a bun.

“I just need to talk to him, the situation is private.” You said, your confidence never wavering as these men stared you down.

“I can help with that.” A man stepped through the crowd extending his hand to you. “Alexander Hamilton, Washington’s right hand man.”

“(Y/N) (L/N), it’s a pleasure to meet you Mister Hamilton. General Washington has told me great things about you.” You smiled sincerely, Alexander perking up at your name.

“Miss (L/N)! Washington didn’t tell me you were coming to visit.” Alexander exclaimed, beginning to drag you through the sea of soldiers.

“He doesn’t exactly know I came.” You sighed, the nerves beginning to bubble up in your stomach again.

“Really? Well, I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you. He always talks about how amazing you are.” Alexander said, making you blush brightly at the thought of George talking about you with his men.

“He talks about me?” You asked, smiling at the thought.

“All the time.” Alexander stopped outside the tent, opening the door for you. “Here you are, Miss (L/N).” Alexander smiled at you once more before walking away.

You took a deep breath, stepping through the flap of the tent. George was sitting at his desk, his eyebrows furrowed as he studied the map in front of him.

“Did you see what all the commotion was about, Alexander?” George asked, not looking up from the map.

“Well sir, it seems a woman has come here to visit the man she loves.” You giggled, George’s head snapping up at your voice.

“(Y/N)!” George grinned, jumping up from his desk to hug you tightly, kissing you desperately before pulling away to look at you. “Why are you here?”

“I dropped out of school…” You sighed, feeling him stiffen up at your words.

“What?” George asked in shock.

“I couldn’t do it anymore. The workload was overwhelming me, the men said the cruelest things every day and I had nobody to help me understand subjects that I couldn’t grasp easily. It has been a living hell.” You sobbed, tears starting to fall from your eyes as you finally let out what you had been feeling for the past months. “I’m so sorry! I know I’ve let you down and my family down. I didn’t mean to disappoint you.”

“(Y/N), you could never disappoint me.” George whispered, wiping away your tears gently. “College isn’t for everyone (Y/N), don’t feel bad. I’m just amazed at how far you got. No one will be disappointed in you because you tried your hardest. You were part of an amazing social movement that is still taking place. There is nothing disappointing about that.” George reassured you.

“Do you think my family will be mad?” You asked, resting your head against George’s chest as the tears slowed at his words.

“I doubt it, if anything they’ll just be amazed of how long you pushed through compared to the majority that dropped out within a week. And if they are, they are idiots. It doesn’t matter what they will say. What matters is how you feel about it.” George said, rubbing your back in soothing circles.

“Thank you, you always know what to say. I love you.” You whispered, kissing his lips lightly.

“I love you too, (Y/N).” He grinned, kissing you just as gently as you had kissed him. “Maybe when this is all over, you can try college again. Until then, stay here with me? I can’t bare you not being by my side again.” He said, his obvious nervousness showing in his face.

“I can’t think of anything better.” You smiled, snuggling closer into the arms he had wrapped around you.

The weight that had been piling on you had finally been lifted. Thanks to George, you could finally feel at peace again.

Lesson (Winn Schott x Reader

The Music Meister is back to teach another lesson about Love. This one is with my fav nerd Winn, y'all don’t know how much i love him, and i brought back a song from his Newsies days.

Trigger Warning: Prison, mentions of death/killing, awkward crush stuff

Originally posted by dailysupergirl

Your head hurt, that all you really knew. Your eyes were closed and you were laying on a concrete floor, and your head hurt.

Slowly you opened your eyes, you were in… somewhere you didn’t recognize. It was strange, the last thing that you clearly remembered was walking into your bedroom after an embarrassingly bad attempt at asking your crush, Winn Schott, on a date which resulted in you complimenting his shirt and him gently punching your arm. Kara had pushed you to try again, but one shoulder bump was enough humiliation for one day. Now you were in… a prison cell?

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Zayn Malik looks dreamy on the cover of Sunday Times' Style magazine
Lovely, lovely Zayn.

Lovely, lovely Zayn.

By Naomi Gordon Mar 17, 2017

Zayn may be modeling a jacket that looks like it’s made from the same material as an Ikea shopping bag, but he’s still a slammin’ hottie on the cover of Sunday Times’ Style magazine.

The 24-year-old singer has been unveiled as the Sunday paper’s magazine cover star, and fans obviously can’t cope - especially as cruelly they’ll have to wait until the weekend to see inside. WE NEED TO SEE THE WORDS WITH THE PICTURES NOW.

The newspaper’s Twitter account shared the image, along with the caption: “Breaking! The @zaynmalik cover. See the full shoot and interview on Sunday zaynXstyle”

Zayn - who is also working a slicked-back man-bun on the cover -  posted the image on his page too, but without any words (so Zayn), and fans promptly lost it as they deluged the tweet with their undying love for the star.

The paper’s twitter account also kindly shared some images from inside the magazine (although the second jacket looks as questionable as the first) and as fans pointed out, he looks nothing short of perfect.

The publication also promised that we’ll see “@zaynmalik as you’ve never seen him before in our brand-new exclusive unseen shots.”

Don’t forget to steal your parents’ paper on Sunday….

Try with Me 1/?

Here is my trash of a first draft if anyone would like to read! :D Next chapter will contain smut. *insert wiggling eyebrows and wink*. Tis’ Alivia at the top. I’m out this bitch til’ next time.

Alivia Carlton placed a hand on her hip out of habit as she looked over one of the outfits a stylist put together for the window display. She couldn’t decide if it was edgy or just tacky; her focus dropped as her cell went off for the third time in the span of thirty minutes. She rolled her eyes at the sound of Wannabe by the Spice Girls filled the previously silent room. “I said I was on the way didn’t I,” she snapped into the phone playfully.

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The Lost Princess {Biadore} Chapter 4 - C*NT

A/N: So I’m back back back at writing super long chapters! This is a whopping 6k+ chapter filled with all sorts of goodies. Today there will be some talk about different sexualities (bisexual, pansexual etc.), which as a pansexual myself, I hope I classified it correctly. We also have a new character coming into the mix ;) Bianca/Roy is bisexual in this AU, Courtney is pansexual, and Adore herself is starting to realize she is not cis. TW: Alcohol consumption, a heavy make out scene and vomit near the end (i don’t go into too much detail but just in case)

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Prompt: “can you please do one where love interest kirk and brother bones finds you crying because you’re not pretty enough to get a guy and kirk kisses you?” -Anon

Word Count: 1,148

Author’s Note: Finally got one out. I like how it turned out, too. Enjoy!

NaNoWriMo Word Count: 52,712/50,000

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Trick or Treat

Part 2

Modern Au where Mor drags Feyre to a Halloween party and she just so happens to run into Rhys who is the other half of her couples costume. (It follows my other fic which you can read here.)

Word Count: 3,058

((I will most likely be continuing this. And as always I would love your feedback.))


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


“Come on, Feyre, you have to go, it’s Halloween,” Mor pleads with me from where she is perched on my bed.

I swivels in my chair. I was sitting at my desk, my latest project –which was giving me hell— was sitting atop it.

The assignment was to create a life like version of an iconic character, villain, or Halloween monster.

“Mor, you know I would love to go with you, but I need to finish my project. Plus, I don’t have a costume,” I admit, to her, I tap the end of my graphite pencil on the sketchpad next to my blank canvas. I hadn’t even begun to paint, and dozens of pieces of paper littered the floor around my desk. The assignment was due on Tuesday. Three days, that’s all I had now, and there was nothing on my canvas.

I look over to where Mor was sitting on my bed. Her makeup was already done. This year she was going as Tinkerbell and Peter pan with Azriel. Her golden hair was thrown up into an expertly slicked back bun. Sparkles adorned her cheeks and her eyes were done up in golds and soft shades of green.

We had both gotten grumbles from Azriel about wearing tights.  Tights, and the fact that he actually had to wear a color other than black for once in his life. The only reason he had shut up about it was because of the fact that Mor had told him that she would take it all off for him after the party.

“Come on Feyre, Rhys will be there, and you can wear my costume from last year, you’ll look so good in it. Please?” She dragged out the word as she clasped her hands together just below her chin.

Her lips were pulled into a pout, and I swear she was giving me puppy dog eyes.

My teeth clench together. I had tried not to think about Rhys or our fateful meeting of me beating him with a shoe. He was still in town, and ended up taking up the spare room in Cassian and Azriel’s house as a more permanent residence for the time being.

I had narrowly avoided him while he was staying here, but since he moved out I hadn’t see him. I would never admit this out loud, but some nights I would wake up with those damned eyes and his tattoos lingering behind me eyelids.

Damn his sexy tattoos.

And then of course there was the time I had walked in on him in the bathroom. In my defense, I thought he was Mor. We shared a bathroom so we were always walking in on each other.

But one day, I was dying with a headache and needed to get into medicine cabinet for Advil before it turned into a migraine. I walked right in on Rhys.

The water had just been shut off when I was trying to find it—I had heard curtain being pulled back as I grabbed the bottle and poured a few into my hand.

“Sorry Mor, I was just–” my sentence was cut short then, because Rhys was the one in the shower, not Mor.

He had had a towel slung low on his hips, water still glistening on his sculpted chest and abdominals.

His chest.

Good god, it was in that moment that I had decided I found tattoos incredibly attractive. Swirls of dark color covered his chest and shoulders, then faded out in tendrils of ink down his arms.

He had smiled at me with a wicked grin.

“You could have told me you were going to join me in the shower, Feyre darling,” he had purred at me.

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Karlie Kloss at Azzedine Alaia show in Paris
Karlie Kloss was bringing high fashion to the Paris runway as she lead the models at the Azzedine Alaia Fashion Show during Haute Couture Fashion Week on Wednesday.

Karlie Kloss looks edgy in grungy ensembles at the Azzedine Alaia show during Haute Couture Paris Fashion Week

By Kate Thomas for MailOnline
PUBLISHED:  5 July 2017

She usually favours a girl next door look.

But Karlie Kloss was bringing high fashion to the Paris runway as she lead the models at the Azzedine Alaia Fashion Show during Haute Couture Fashion Week in the French capital on Wednesday.

The 24-year-old beauty was sporting an androgynous look, modelling two edgy black ensembles as she strutted along the catwalk.

Gothic chic: Karlie Kloss was bringing high fashion to the Paris runway as she lead the models at the Azzedine Alaia Fashion Show during Haute Couture Fashion Week in the French capital on Wednesday

Karlie rocked a dramatic textured dress with a low-cut neckline, before slipping into a leather coat.

Her newly-dyed platinum blonde locks were slicked back into a bun, with a gravity-defying headpiece setting off the look.

Edgy: Her newly-dyed platinum blonde locks were slicked back into a bun, with a gravity-defying headpiece setting off the look

Upping the glamour in a low-cut, sparkling dress, the star was hard to miss as she took pride of place at the runway show.

Having been a part of the industry since she was 13, Karlie was recently named one of Forbes highest paid models, having reportedly earned $10 million last year.

During that time, Karlie modelled for 18 brands.

Conquering the catwalk: Karlie rocked a dramatic textured dress with a low-cut neckline, before slipping into a leather coat

Additionally, the beauty is a star on social media. Karlie has millions of fans between her various social media accounts, and over half a million subscribers on Youtube.

The NYU student is also the founder of Kode With Klossy, a camp to encourage and assist young teenage girls to enter the world of computer technology.

Karlie recently opened up about her fashion sense in an interview with ELLE Australia.

She explained: ‘I think everybody kind of has to grow into their own style and their own perspective.

'You grow into who you are and your viewpoints on life and how you want to dress and that’s the great part of fashion, it’s a self-expression. You can change it by the day.’

Daily Mail

anonymous asked:

I still live at home, my parents aren't ok with the trans thing, and I'm not allowed to cut my hair above my shoulders. Any tips for looking masculine with longish hair?

Okay, so lots of cis guys have long hair, you can do man buns, slicked back hair, tucking your hair in a hat, masculine contouring, dressing more androgynous, maybe change clothes at school or a friend’s place? Perhaps convince your parents for an undercut? 

I hope this helps at least a little. 

~Papa Ryan

Stranger Than We Meant It

Word Count: Appx 6.5k
Pairing: Dean Winchester / Castiel 
Rating: Teen + (for swearing)
Summary:  Fifth Grade teachers Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak manage to get sucked in to doing the same “Pen Pal Project” that their students are doing.
Note: Many thanks go to thepizzaseraph​ and ackles-likes-snackles​ for beta-ing and such. 
Also Read On: Archive of Our Own

When the idea was first suggested, Castiel didn’t know what to do with it. After his students started getting excited about it and continued to pester him, he figured he could at least take it to his supervisor and see what she had to say.

Naomi was a very strict woman, with hair always tied back in a slick, tight bun and lips that were always pressed together thinly. Newer teachers were always wary of her, walking on tiptoes around her and agreeing mightily to anything she said.  She’d been Cas’ supervisor since he’d started teaching seven years ago, so he knew her well enough to not be so frightened anymore.

“Apparently,” he told her, sitting comfortably in the leather chair in front of her desk, “the high school has some kind of affiliation with schools in Europe, and the language students get paired with a pen pal for the year. Daniel’s older sister writes to a girl in Italy - this was all his idea, you know. And once he mentioned it, everyone started going absolutely crazy… They are all very taken with the idea, and I think it would be a wonderful way for them to improve their writing.”

Naomi stayed silent for a moment, mulling it over in her head. She slipped her glasses off her nose and set them carefully atop a stack of manila folders. “I don’t see why not.” She said eventually, beginning to flip through some papers, “If the high school has affiliates, it shouldn’t be hard for us to branch off of that.”  

It took two weeks to sort out the rest of the details, and then Cas was standing at the front of his classroom, watching his students file slowly into the room, hanging coats on hangers and setting lunchboxes in cubbies before finally taking their seats. Winter Break was slowly approaching and he could tell they were all getting anxious to be done with school for now. He hoped that this new pen pal project would keep them subdued for the next few days.

“Okay guys, I’ve got some really awesome news.”

“Can we do the pen pals?” Daniel asked, as he had every morning for the past three weeks. The question had lost the enthusiasm it had once contained, now sounding like he was just barely wanting to hope for it. Cas grinned.

“Actually… Yes.”

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The Big Day

Title: The Big Day
Rating: PG (Mild Language)
Characters/Pairings: Roman Reigns/OC, Dean Ambrose/Renee Young
Disclaimer: I own nothing but this small piece of fiction. All recognizable names belong to their respective owners.
Summary: The best man always gives the groom a little speech before he says I Do. It turns out to be a big day for the both of them.

-The Big Day-

“Alright boys, disperse! This shindig goes down in a half hour and the best man needs to have a little chit-chat with the man of the hour…” Dean’s face lit up, watching the other groomsmen look over at him as he came through the door. Matt Anoa'i, Jimmy and Jey Uso as well as Seth Rollins all gave the groom a final hug and a handshake before filing out past Ambrose to help user in guests as they arrived to the resort.

“Should I sit down for this?” Roman laughed, watching Dean walk toward him. Both men were dressed in crisp suits and ties, not a hair out of place. Dean motioned for two chairs next to huge bay windows, dark blue Atlantic Ocean as far as the eye could see in either aerial direction.

“Yeah, you probably should. I’m about to go all emotional best friend–best man on you.” They share a hearty laugh as they both take a seat. Looking down from the window you could see the wedding grounds on the back lawn of the Oceanside resort. White chairs lined in rows on either side of the isle covered in fuchsia colored rose petals. The warm, early morning south Florida sun beamed brightly.

Roman leaned over with his elbows on his knees as he waited for the first of Dean’s many speeches for his big day. Ambrose may not have very many serious bones in his body and was usually the one making everyone laugh but when it came down to it, he could move mountains with his words when they truly came from his heart.

“Dude, when I woke up this morning and realized today was the day, I still couldn’t wrap my head around it. I can’t believe after all that skirt we chased you’re finally settling down with one woman..” Roman smiled, watching the guests start to file out to their seats as the movement caught his light gray eyes.

“So your big opening statement is reminding me how much of manwhore I was? All of a sudden I’m not so sure I want you to make that speech at the reception later…” Dean thumped him in the arm with his fist in response.

“Shut up man, I’d never say shit like that in front of your family. You’ve got half the damn Isle of Samoa down there… But seriously man, I just never saw you as the guy that would take the plunge is all. Hell, I never thought I’d have a girlfriend either but I wouldn’t trade Renee for the world. And I know you wouldn’t trade [Y/N] either. I’ve watched you grow into an even better man than I thought you were these last two and a half years because of her. She brings out the best in you.”

Roman looked Dean square in the eye, seeing the emotion there. It was rare for him to get on this level but today was a special occasion and he wanted to make sure his best friend knew exactly how he felt and that he had his blessing before saying I Do.

“When I went to check on Renee a few minutes ago I saw her…” He paused, putting his hand on Roman’s shoulder giving it a squeeze. “Dude never in a million years could you imagine how stunning she looks today. You’re going to lose your mind when she comes down that isle, I promise you that.” Roman’s smile turned into a giddy grin as he tried to picture seeing his beautiful bride for the first time as she walked down the isle to become his wife.

“I have no doubt she looks gorgeous man, she always does. Not to mention she’s been worrying over everything for the last six months…” Roman licked his lips and shifted in his seat. The anticipation was starting to build as he felt the tightening in his chest increase. He couldn’t believe the day was finally here either. Dean shook his head, knowing Roman didn’t fully understand what he was referring to.

“It isn’t that. It isn’t the dress, the hair, the shoes or the make-up. She’s a knockout man, anyone with eyes could see that from miles away. But today is different. Today is her wedding day. She hasn’t just been planning this for only six months, she’s been dreaming about this day since she was a little kid. Marrying you today will become the greatest day of her life. Every bit of emotion and love that she feels for you, you can see it on her face–in her eyes. That’s what stunned me. I could visible see it all.”

“I hope you can see that in me too..” Roman started, letting Dean’s words sink in. “I know we wrote our own vows and I know how good you and Seth thought they were when I read them last night but I still don’t think I’ve done justice. How are you supposed to put into words what your feel inside for the love of your life? Your soul mate?”

“Rome, don’t worry. Those vows are going to have every female in the joint reaching for the Kleenex. I’ve never seen you as happy as you are today. And I know as you start your lives together that will only continue. You and [Y/N] deserve all the happiness in the world…” Dean paused, running a shaky hand through his dirty blond hair. “As for knowing how to tell the love of your life what you feel inside, I’ll let you know.”

Roman eyed him, his eyebrows coming together at the tone he switched to. “What? You’ve got something up your sleeve Ambrose.. I can sense it.” Dean laughed.

“I’m going to ask Renee to marry me.” At first Roman thought he was kidding, honestly. Since he was getting married today, Ambrose was going to try to…

Roman saw that tell-tell gleam in Dean’s eye and the way he nervously began to shift in his seat now that he’d dropped this bombshell.

He wasn’t kidding.

“You’re serious?” Roman asked as he tightened the slick bun that his hair was tied up in.

“Oh I am, Uce…” Dean paused, smiling so big his dimples hurt. Roman looked at him, eyeing him again as his mouth fell open in shock. He never thought Dean would ever find the one even though Roman told him all the time how Renee was perfect for him.

“Seriously dude? You’re going to ask her? You bought a ring?” Roman questioned, still unable to wrap his mind around the fact that Dean definitely wasn’t kidding and actually planned to settle down just like Roman was doing today.

“Yeah, bro. I bought it last weekend during that sting of shows we did in New York. The more I thought about your wedding and the happier I saw [Y/N] get the closer we came to today I just.. I don’t know. I just feel like Renee is the one. Sometimes I feel like I’ve lost my mind but then I see her and I just know…”

“When are you going to ask her?” Roman asked, thankful that the spotlight was off him if only for a moment. It was helping to calm his own nerves seeing as he was about to give someone else his last name in a matter of minutes.

“Well…” Dean rubbed a hand across the stubble on his chin. “I was thinking about asking her at the end of my Best Man speech during your reception.. If you think that would be okay with [Y/N]. I don’t want her to think I’m trying to steal her thunder or anything…”

“No,” Roman chuckled, grinning at his best friend. “That’s her best friend. I think she’ll be just as excited and happy as Renee is going to be when you get down on one knee…” Roman paused, shaking his head. “Holy shit man, I never thought I’d see this day. We’re hanging up our bachelor boots and will be off the market for good!”

“I know man, can’t believe this old tag-team has finally met their match. Speaking of your match, the main event of your life is about to start,” Dean told him, standing up with Roman. They stared at each other a moment longer before hugging tightly like the brothers that they felt they truly were. Pulling back Dean adjusted Roman’s tie and dusted off the shoulders of his suit. “Let’s go give this little lady a last name she can’t pronounce.” Roman laughed, shaking his head as she followed Dean out the door and down to his wedding ceremony.