the irish accent though


Summary: Coffee have always been key to lighten up your mood in cloudy days. Specially when its made by your favorite barista.

Author: @sleepywinchester prev. deanwincehster-af | Mobile Masterlist 

Pairings: Barista!Sam x Plus Size!Reader

Words: 1.4k+ 

Beta: @waywardlullabies​ 

Warnings: None.

A/N: Guys… Things are gonna get interesting from now on. Just warning y’all.  Feedback is always appreciated it! <3


“I’m not drinking. Ever. Again.”

Your words came out slowly and with an under gruff tone. The morning after your birthday party wasn’t as festive and carefree as the night before. Instead, you woke up with a dry mouth and headache. Events of the night were mostly blurry or non-existent in your mind. Only recalling all the tequila you drank, the money you won and that you ended up in your apartment heavily drunk.

Sam scoffed with a small flat smile as he slid the hot coffee towards you. Inhaling the smell of brewed coffee made your insides flutter with joy. The smell of coffee being really satisfying in this moment of regret. Blowing air in order to cold the coffee before you took a small sip.

“Thank you,” you sighed placing the cup on the counter.

Sam nodded with a weak smile. “Babe?” he said softly catching your attention.

You watched him laid both hands above the kitchen counter. Something was off about him since both of you woke up this morning, being mostly silence and pensive. You gave Sam a nod with an arched eyebrow as answer instead asking what.

Sam clenched his jaw, “Do your remember anything that happened last night?”

Keep reading

Hello! Got an announcement to make for a friend for a Doctor Who fanfiction project that we’re all very excited about.

“Attention all!  We’re looking for volunteers to take part in a fan-produced Twelfth Doctor audio adventure. This is entirely voluntary, however, we’re hoping that this project will have a fairly respectable amount of listeners when it eventually materialises – it’ll be a great opportunity for various fans and aspiring actors and actresses to come together and produce a love letter to what’s been an amazing era of Doctor Who.

Cast-wise, we’re currently looking for:

  • A Peter Capaldi voice impersonator (if you’re Scottish you may get some preferential treatment, but we’re considering all submissions very carefully) – leading role
  • Two female voice actors, both either Irish or able to put on a convincing Irish accent (not a Northern Irish accent, though!) – one a leading role and one a major but slightly less significant one (yes, you can specify)
  • A female voice actor, any age/accent welcome – main antagonist
  • A female voice actor, any age/accent welcome – minor role
  • Two male voice actors, any age/accent welcome – both minor roles
  • A male voice actor, preferably older-sounding with a Cockney accent – minor role
  • An actor of any age or gender, who is happy to have their voice modified to sound very, very strange

*Any category specifying ‘two’ doesn’t mean you have to submit together. We’re only looking for individual submissions.

If you are interested in taking the project to play any of these parts, please drop us an email at  This doesn’t mean you have to agree to take part yet – you can email us if you want more information but are still considering.  We’ll be able to give you more details about the story and how we’re producing it. Don’t worry about submitting any recordings yet – you’ll get to have a look at the script if you’re interested in taking part and we’ll work on the auditioning and recording process from there. If you’re not interested in taking part, we’d still really appreciate it if you gave the project a boost by sharing this post with your followers!  Thank you for your time.“

The script is one I’m quite excited about, written by a talented friend off a premise we’ve bounced around a bit. It should be quite a treat!

I don’t know where you’re going
But do you got room for one more troubled soul?
I don’t know where I’m going
But I don’t think I’m coming home and I said
I’ll check in tomorrow if I don’t wake up dead
This is the road to ruin
And we’re starting at the end

“Alone Together” - Fall Out Boy

Romanogers Week: Road trip

She kept pacing the room of her hotel room. Letting out a sigh, she grabbed her wool coat and headed down the stairs and starting running through the night streets. Immediately her eyes fell upon a familiar red truck.

“Hey!” Turning around, a blond man looked at her and smiled. “So about that star gazing you promised me.”

He let out a laugh, “I was hoping you’d come,” his Irish accent making her blue. “Though I was having some doubts.”

“Well you did promise me a night to remember,” she blushed remembering their conversation at the pub. “So I thought I’d you take you on your offer.”

“Well of course lassie, come on into the truck,” he guided her into the passenger seat before going around and slipping into the driver seat, “are you ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” she smiled at him and her heat beating fast as they drove off.

Not once did Natasha find herself in Ireland to fall in love, not only with the sights, but with a handsome local. She couldn’t help feel giddy with this small road trip of theirs, as he drove them out of the small city and more into the country. Maybe after this road trip, she would understand exactly what her heart yearned for and hopefully before her wedding.

anonymous asked:

Rly random question, you don't have to answer, what accent do you have? Bc for some reason I keep imagining you as having a birminham accent but that's probably not accurate...

((OOC: My accent is somewhere between northern and southern because my family couldn’t decide where they wanted me to live when I was younger… fun fact though: I used to have an Irish accent))

GFriend Reaction to you speaking English

Originally posted by chxiyuna


Sowon was very impressed, she’s only ever heard you speak Korean and this sudden newfound knowledge of you only made her love you more. If you’re watching some English TV channel, she’ll ask you what’s happening or what certain words me.

Originally posted by omyseulgi


Eunha was surprised, she didn’t even know you spoke English. Now that she knows, she’ll ask you how to pronounce things, especially names of movies that she likes, and asks you to recreate lines from her favourite movies. Her favourites include lines from Titanic, and songs from Grease.

Originally posted by navillera-eunrin


After finding out that you speak English, she’ll make you say random crap in various accents, just to see what they sound like. She especially likes British and Irish accents. (Even though you might not be able to recreate them). Out of nowhere she’ll bring up some words on her phone and make you say them. Just because. But she’ll reward you with kisses though, so it’s totally worth it.

Originally posted by eunhasmom


Yuju found out you spoke English when you went on holiday together. She was trying to figure out what to order, inputting some of the words she didn’t know onto Google Translate. When suddenly, you ordered exactly what she wanted in perfect English. Her reaction was “Woaah, Y/N! I didn’t know you spoke English! Can you say “I love Choi Yuna in English?” Pleaaase?” 

Originally posted by yvlsic


Eunbi was confused at first, asking why and how you could speak perfect English. As soon as you told her that your native language was English she kept persisting that you teach her English so you could have conversations that the other members couldn’t understand, well, apart from Umji.

Originally posted by 3unha


Umji actually presumed you spoke English since you met. She had heard you speak on the phone with your family once and she just never brought it up. Although, now that you know she knows, she’ll speak to you in broken English sentences. She hopes that with time, her English will improve. Sometimes you’ll have English only days, and Korean only days so you can help each other learn :D

Hello Detective Chapter 48

Part 1   Part 2   Part 3   Part 4   Part 5   Part 6   Part 7   Part 8   Part 9   Part 10   Part 11   Part 12   Part 13   Part 14   Part 15   Part 16   Part 17   Part 18   Part 19   Part 20   Part 21   Part 22   Part 23   Part 24   Part 25   Part 26  Part 27  Part 28  Part 29 Part 30  Part 31  Part 32  Part 33   Part 34   Part 35   Part 36   Part 37   Part 38   Part 39   Part 40      Part 41   Part 42   Part 43   Part 44   Part 45   Part 46   Part 47   Part 48   Part 49  Part 50   Part 51  Part 52 Part 53   Part 54  Part 55   Part 56  Part 57 Part 58 Part 59 Part 60

You snuck into Mycroft’s office, knowing he was still here and would be back to lock up. He was surprised to see you sitting in his chair, reading through Kitty’s unpublished story.

“She has really done her homework Miss Riley. There’s things that only someone close to Sherlock could know.” You spoke. Mycroft laid down his umbrella and briefcase.

“Ah.” Mycroft spoke, closing the door.

“So how does it work then? Your relationship with Moriarty? You go out for a coffee now and then, huh? You and Jim? Your own brother and you blabbed about his entire life to this maniac?” You asked, disappointed.

“I never intended… I never dreamt–” Mycroft said.

“This, see, this is what you were trying to tell me, isn’t it? Watch his back, because I’ve fucked up.” You scowled at him. “How did you meet him?”

“People like him, we know about them, we watch them. But James Moriarty, the most dangerous criminal mind the world has ever seen, and in his pocket, the ultimate weapon, a key code. A few lines of computer code that can unlock any door.” Mycroft said, and you were still angry.

“And you abducted him? To try and find the key code.” You followed.

“Interrogated him for weeks. He wouldn’t play along. He just sat there, staring into the darkness. The only thing that made him open up… I could get him to talk. Just a little, but–” Mycroft spoke before you cut him off.

“In return, you had to offer him Sherlock’s life story. So there’s one big lie, Sherlock’s a fraud, but people will swallow it because the rest of it is true. Moriarty wanted Sherlock destroyed, right? And you have given him the perfect ammunition.” You argued.

“Y/N… I’m sorry.” Mycroft said genuinely.

“I trusted you!” You cried. “I didn’t tell Sherlock because I trusted you, and look where that’s gotten us. He deserves to know, Mycroft. Moriarty is going to kill him, and you helped! You said you take care of your family, then stop him. Save him.” You told him. Storming out of his office, leaving the copy of Kitty’s story.

You stepped out to the curb to hail a cab, and one was slowly approaching you, before another cut in front of it and pulled up next to you. You furrowed your brow, but got in. You were more worried about how you were going to tell Sherlock you were pregnant. You needed to tell him, before it was too late. He needed your help.

“Barts Hospital.” You told the cabbie, he nodded. The trip should have only taken 5 minutes from the Diogenes Club. You were so deep in thought that you hadn’t realized it was taking much longer than it should. You looked at your phone, no signal. Where the hell were you? You looked out the window and noticed they were almost blacked out. Before you could yell or protest, the car slammed to a stop.

Your door was ripped open and you were pulled out of the car by two strong hands. Before you could put up a fight a syringe was stabbed into your neck and your body went limp in his arms. The last thing you saw before everything went black were a pair of green eyes.

When you woke up, you didn’t know how much time had passed. It felts like days, but it could have been hours. As your eyes adjusted to the bright light, you saw that your ankles and wrists were bound. You were on your knees at the top of a building facing Barts Hospital. You made the mistake of looking down, even though you were afraid of heights. You began to squirm when you saw how far off the ground you were.

You were yanked back by your wrists and your eyes met the same green ones you had seen before slipping into unconsciousness. He was now holding a gun.

“I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure of meeting, Sebastian Moran.” He flashed a cheeky smile with a slight Irish accent. “Though of course I know who you are.”

You tried to speak, though that was impossible with the cloth in your mouth.

“Here let me help you out there love,” he bent down and untied the gag from around your head, “Better?”

“If you were going to kill me you would have done it by now, what do you want?” You asked, bravely.

“Oh, it’s not what I want, it’s what my boss wants.” He smirked.

“Your boss? Let me guess, Moriarty?” You rolled your eyes. You were getting tired of playing games.

“You are a smart one, I’ll hate to have to kill you.” He said.

“You don’t have to do this.” You tried to reason with him.

“Actually I do.” He looked up across to the roof opposite and smiled, “Ready to play the game?”

“I’m a bit tired of games actually–” You said, before following his gaze and seeing Sherlock stepping out onto the roof of Barts.

“Time to put this back on love, don’t want you spoiling the game.” He said, quickly re-gagging you before you could scream out to him.

You watched as the game unfolded across from you, Jim and Sherlock still had their backs to you. Moran bent down next to you and spoke into your ear.

“You see how this works Y/N? If Sherlock doesn’t commit suicide, you die.” He spoke and you turned your head to face him, eyes wide. He laughed at your reaction.

Sherlock was now holding Moriarty by the lapels of his jacket, dangling him over the edge.

“Ah, here’s my favorite part.” Sebastian said, and you furrowed your eyebrows. Sherlock suddenly pulled Moriarty back to his feet, and they both turned to face you. Sherlock’s mouth hung open.

“If Sherlock doesn’t jump, everyone he loves will die. You, John Watson, Martha Hudson, and Greg Lestrade.” Moran laughed.

Your eyes connected with Sherlock across the way as he stepped up onto the ledge. You shook your head furiously as tears spilled from your eyes. This wasn’t happening, he wasn’t going to do it, he couldn’t.

You saw him begin to laugh… what the hell was he playing at? He turned around and Moriarty began to yell. You looked to Moran and he was confused as well. This wasn’t part of the plan. Sherlock jumped off of the ledge back onto the roof.

You were confused as well, what was he trying to do? Did he think he could make Jim Moriarty call off the killers? You weren’t sure what was happening. Moriarty stuck out his hand for Sherlock to shake. He took it slowly. As long as Sherlock had Moriarty, there was a way out of this. You felt a glimmer of hope. Suddenly you saw Moriarty pull a gun and fire it into his mouth. Sherlock stumbled backwards, surprised by his actions. No, there was no way out now. One of you were not getting out of this alive.

You looked up to Moran, his eyes were wide in shock… this wasn’t part of the plan, he didn’t know how far he was willing to go to destroy Sherlock.

Sherlock now had his hands on his head, he didn’t think it would have gone this far.

He stepped up on the ledge again. You tried to scream, shake your head, stop him from doing this. He took out his phone and held it to his ear, you didn’t know who he was calling but you glanced down to the ground and saw John there, on his phone, looking up to Sherlock.

A light rain was now beginning to fall as Sherlock threw the phone behind him. You heard John yell his name. Before you knew it, everything was happening in slow motion. Sherlock looked up to you once more, before jumping. You screamed as loud as you could, but it came out muffled. Your view of the ground was blocked by the ambulance station, but you heard it. You heard him hit the ground, you heard the screams of people standing nearby.

You fell back, breathing heavily, not believing your own eyes. You looked around and Sebastian Moran was gone, and you were all alone. All alone. Somehow you managed to removed the robes from your wrists and ankles, and remove the gag from your mouth. You stood to find the exit, and stumbled to your knees again. Everything hurt: your legs, you wrists, your head, and your heart. You somehow managed to make it down out of the building. You saw John, being held back by paramedics as Sherlock was wheeled away.

“JOHN!” You screamed and tried to run to him, though your legs were weak. You made it to him, then saw the blood on the ground, you dropped to your knees and held your head in your hands as you cried, as you shook, and as you grieved.

More Fallout because i finished Alex and it makes me happy to see her running around with Jack. Though i will forever imagine her with an Irish accent now because i replaced Cait in game.

Kind of annoyed i gotta do the whole ‘oh my wife died gotta find my son’ quest though. Because i’m pretty sure Jack is like king of the raiders and him and Alex just murder everyone in their path. So basically it’s about time i took him to Nukaworld.
But yes, i’ve been enjoying inserting my characters into the fallout universe so much. If i didn’t know i would never get it finished, i would start some kind of story,  set in the fallout universe. instead you’ll probably maybe, get some pictures.

I should probably make a fallout blog huh?

fireflysummers  asked:

3, 15, 20

For the salt meme ask challenge (Preacher is the focus).

3. Have you ever unfollowed someone over a fandom opinion?

Yes, but not for a long time. I can’t give specifics because I can’t remember any.

15. Unpopular opinion about the manga/show?

Welp, since Preacher has a comic series and a tv show I’ll talk about both.

  • Comic: Without spoiling anything, all I can say is I really don’t like how Steve Dillon drew a certain character looking a certain age in one panel but made said character look an older age in another panel all within a few pages in the last issue. INCONSISTENT DRAWING STYLE. THIS BOTHERS ME SO MUCH.
  • TV show: I despised Joe’s attempt at an Irish accent in the first episode. Though, he seems to get much better as the series progresses. :D

20. What is the purest ship in the fandom? 



Like don’t give me no Les Mis bullshit. That one bitch lived in France his whole life and had a COCKNEY accent? What the fuck? Do americans know the difference between the countries? Do they know what a france is?

Or do they just think everyone in Europe has a brittish accent?

anonymous asked:

the fallout lore is a bit too rich for me to make much sense of it but youre a nerd so i wanna ask; how does accents work in fallout? how can cait be the only one with an irish accent and how do the bobrov brothers also have an accent? there's a ship with norweigan speaking ghouls but they were there before the war. if cait and the bobrovs werent born in america, did they travel there? how did they develop/keep an accent in america?

Dude, this is one of the parts of the new Fallout game I hate the most.

I asked myself the exact same question too. I can somewhat understand, or rather accept, Cait, but the Bobrov brothers, along with Arturo, by the way, make no sense. Unless they came from a vault that was filled with immigrants, I see no possible scenario in which random Commonwealth citizens can have such a strong accent.

Fallout 4, in my memory, is the first game that introduced characters that look legitimately foreign .We had Tempenny in Fallout 3, but guess what, he was actually explained - we knew where he came from, we knew about his background. Fallout 4′s characters are just there, and we, as players, apparently are expected to blindly accept it without asking too many questions.Not like you and I right now. There was clearly no intention to tell us about the Bobrovs’ story, there was no indication that the writers meant it as anything but the reinforcement of the famous stereotype of the vodka drinking Russians. Everyone knows about it, it’s funny - why not make two dudes with Russian accent our bartenders?

If you want to know my opinion, I think this is how accents in Fallout’s universe work from now on.

I heard that there was a character from FNV that had a New Zealand accent - a member of the Great Khans. Which I wouldn’t attribute to anything either, I suppose it was just a voice actor Obsidian hired without thinking much about his accent. And I, personally, probably didn’t even hear it, as someone born in a country that doesn’t have English as an official language. But the Bobrovs, Arturo, Cait - they stick out, and everyone notices them. You may probably complete the game without speaking to the Khan once (hell, I personally, don’t remember him at all), but you will hardly miss any on the aforementioned characters. So my conclusion? It’s bullshit. I’m sorry, I know it’s not what you were hoping to hear, but that’s honestly the only thing I can say. It serves the same purpose cats in Fallout 4 do: disrespecting the lore, fan service and sloppy attempts at making the game more enjoyable.

And the cats? Since they are supposed to be extinct in Fallout’s universe, they probably ran away from a vault as well. Maybe Vault 81 was trading with the surface and ended up breeding cats to sale them to the wastelanders. And at some point, the population of cats obviously got out of hand. Again, there is no explanation for the cats randomly reappearing in Fallout 4, even though I, personally, find that this is kind of a big deal. When you change lore details, that have been there since 1997, you don’t ignore it and act as if the original lore never existed at all.

So, cats are from a vault. And so are probably Arturo and the Bobrovs. That, or they came from another country. Imagine the Bobrovs winding up at the West Coast and, instead of staying in a far more hospitable NCR, or just staying wherever they ended up, choosing to cross the country and settle in Boston. For some reason. And Arturo? So what, he left Mexico, and, instead of staying in a far more hospitable NCR, or New Vegas, chose to cross the country, enter Legion territory - just to settle in  Boston?? Or I don’t know, maybe they are synths. With foreign accents added to their matrix. Why not.

See, if the Bobrovs aren’t first generation “migrants”, they can’t possibly talk in such a way. If their parents came from somewhere, either vault or Russia, and talked in a broken English, the children surely learned the Russian language, but they also lived among “American” citizens and learned a normal, fluent English. They wouldn’t have an accent.

Or they are doing it for shits ‘n giggles, just to have fun.

I don’t even know where to begin with Cait. She’s obviously not from a vault. Probably a secluded, creepy farm with three people living there, namely Cait and her parents. That way she wouldn’t have a chance to learn any other accent, but the Irish one. Where her parents came from though? I wouldn’t know.

The supermutants form Fallout 3 were lore-breaking as well: supermutants aren’t supposed to roam the East Coast at all. But Bethesda actually explained it by creating a Vault 87, so it was acceptable, even if a bit irritating. But now, in Fallout 4, they opted out of making any attempts at explanation at all. Why do supermutants exists in the Commonwealth? Did they come from the Capital Wasteland? Now, how is that even possible? I’m not doubting that they are strong enough to cross the country and find Boston, I’m doubting that the Capital Wasteland has the NUMBERS to provide TWO wastelands with a supermutants army. It was one freaking vault! The Institute? But the Institute has been experimenting with FEV only for 10 years, and supermutants obiviously have been living there for a long time now. So, how come that the Commonwealth is filled with them? Actually, how did the Institute get their FEV samples? This is something I’ve been thinking about as well, and it asks for a separate, long post.

This response turned into a very long rant. I am sorry, dear anon, but I can’t give you an answer that would be at least somewhat satisfying. The most we can do is use headcanons and try to close the massive lore breaches with them. This whole thing makes me sad and angry, but it is what it is…

Nialls voice is so underrated. His solos are like hot tea when your sick. His voice is so deep and raspy and breathy and beautiful. He hits notes in a way nobody else can. His Irish accent comes though at the best times. He sings from the heart. Niall voice can start off a song and change the entire sound of it. Nialls voice is beautiful. Niall deserves recognition for his amazing sound

He Isn't Where He's Supposed To Be

Harry: Panic had set in. Not for you though, you knew he would show. However, security and the planning staff were frantic. It was quite enjoyable to watch actually. You couldn’t help but smile when Paul approaches you for a second time. “Are you sure you have no idea where he is?” You shake your head. You honestly had no idea. Yes, he was supposed to be rehearsing for the biggest award show in music, but didn’t these people know him any better than this? “Call him again,” Paul instructs before walking away. Couldn’t they keep up with him any better than this? Calling him certainly wasn’t going to make him magically show up. You listen to a few rings before hanging up; leaving a voicemail would also be pointless. You get up from the seat you had taken out in the audience; it belonged to Jennifer Lopez, casual. None of the other guys had showed up to rehearse seeing as Harry wasn’t there. They saw no point, you didn’t either. You make your way back to the small dressing room they were given for their rehearsal time here at the venue. Four sets of eyes lock onto you as you walk in the space. You hold your hands up in innocence. You knew nothing. “Where is he?” Liam asks. “She doesn’t know, mate,” Zayn replies as you take a seat beside him on the leather couch. “He’ll show up. It isn’t like him to just ditch completely.” Were they sure about that? Your phone begins to vibrate in your hand and you turn over the screen slowly, hiding it from the sight of everyone else. You get up from the couch and walk out into the hallway, far enough away from the open door to where they couldn’t hear your conversation. “Hi,” you answer plainly. “So, um, I know I’m supposed to be there, but I’m not,” he begins. Was he serious right now? “You don’t say,” you reply dryly. “Well I need you to come and get me.” “Why? Where are you?” He sighs deeply, defeated, he had gotten himself into something. “I’m at the Nike store on Grove,” he answers. “Okay, and why do I need to come get you? You got there without me, why can’t you get back?” Another sigh comes across the line. “I can’t get out of the store.” “And why is that?” “They found me, the fans. There’s probably a hundred outside the door.” “You’re joking, right? There’s no way there’s that many people just crowding that area like that.” “Oh but there is. And I’m in the back office here. They let me stay back here while they got them settled down, but the problem is they haven’t settled.” “Harry this is ridiculous. Why haven’t they called the police or something?” “They have and I think they’re out there dealing with it now.” “Okay, well then you will be able to leave soon enough. That’s fine. They’ve already pushed back your rehearsal slot, so you have time.” They had no choice. “Well see that’s the thing,” he begins, pausing for dramatic effect you assumed. “I can’t leave.” “And why is that?” You were beginning to get annoyed with this entire situation. “My car got towed,” he reveals. It was your turn to sigh loudly into the phone. Of course. His luck was terrible like that. “I’m sorry,” he says knowing you were annoyed with him. “It’s fine, Harry. I’ll go get Paul and we will be over to get you soon.” “Thank you,” he replies softy. “Next time, please wander off on a less important day, will you?” He laughs lightly, “Deal.”    

 Liam: You had left the flat before he had even gotten out of bed. A morning coffee and donut run was necessary if Liam was going to have the day off today. Once out of the building you turn down the street to walk to get breakfast, no need to drive when you lived in the middle of the city. Fall was definitely here, the chill in the air was ever present and you quietly thanked your warm sweatshirt for doing its job. Once down the street a few blocks you step into the warmth of the coffee shop. You stopped in here every morning Liam was home, it had become a sort of tradition, or more like a routine. It just came natural to bring home something for him to wake up to seeing as cooking wasn’t exactly your forte. You are greeted by the bright smile of the girl behind the counter. “Haven’t seen you in a while,” she comments, “must be busy on your end.” “Yeah, he hasn’t been home in a while so I’ve just been staying in most mornings.” “Well we’re glad you got out, it’s great to see you. What can I get for you this morning?” You look at the display case off to the side, your eyes tracing over all of your options. “I know I want two coffees,” you insist, getting that out of the way as you continue to stare into the case. Before you can make any more decisions as to what Liam would most like for breakfast your phone begins to ring from your pocket. “Hello?” You answer, not expecting a phone call this early. “Hey, where’s Liam?” The Irish accent asks. Why was he calling? And why couldn’t he have just called Liam? “He’s at home,” you answer suspiciously. “Okay, well he needs to be at the studio. We’re recording today.” What? Liam had told you that today was his day off, with no mention of a recording studio anywhere in the foreseeable future. “He told me he had the day off today,” you reply, still not believing his bandmate, or at least not wanting to. “We have recording all week. Nine every morning.” You pull the phone from your ear to see the time; it was going on ten. You roll your eyes. Of course this was how the week was going to be. You had prepared for a free week with him, but somehow something always comes up. “I’m sorry,” Niall laments, sensing your disappointment. “It’s fine, I’ll go back and wake him up.” You end the call and slip the phone back into your pocket. “Just these this morning,” you say defeated, stepping back over to where your coffees sit. After paying you walk back out into the chilly air and make you way back to the flat. You sit the cups on the kitchen counter after having slipped off your shoes at the door. You walk up the stairs and into the bedroom. He was still asleep. Of course he was. “Liam,” you say, no need to be sweet. “Liam,” you repeat, your voice stern. A slight moan comes from the covers and movement follows. “Liam, get up.” You stand off to the side of the bed, your hands resting on your hips; the attitude was about to come out if he wasn’t careful. “Why?” He questions, his voice full of sleep. “Well I don’t know, maybe because you were supposed to be at the studio an hour ago?” “No I wasn’t. I have the week off.” “No, Niall called and you’re definitely supposed to be at the studio, all week in fact, nine in the morning every day.” You walk over to the window, pushing the curtains aside to help speed up this process. More groans come from the bed as the light spills in. “Get up. You’ve made them wait long enough.” You walk out of the room, ready to begin another week without him.

Niall: This was the most important family gathering you had. This was the reunion you would finally be introducing him. Everyone was going to be there. Everyone but one it seems, him. He had told you he would meet you here, but the food was already being served and you had already been asked about him at least fifty times. This was not how you saw this going. Where was he? He had been on break for the last four days and still had almost a week left to relax before his schedule got hectic again. His absence couldn’t be blamed on his schedule. So what was it? You had gotten the same ‘good morning love’ text you always got in the morning, so things seemed to be running as they usually did. You had tried calling him three times, with nothing but his automated voice mail talking back in return. “Where’s that boy of yours?” Your aunt asks, a smile on her face as she looks around to see if his blonde hair sticks out. “He’s coming, busy schedule, you know.” That had been your answer to all of the questions, covering for his absence. She nods before walking off to join a few other family members you didn’t recognize. Everyone here knew who he was. After word had got around that you were in fact in a relationship with a member of One Direction the family had gone mad. Calling, emailing, messaging, doing anything and everything to get the scoop. You had promised them all an introduction at some point, and now, nearly a year later, it was happening, or at least it was supposed to happen. You try him one more time on the phone, stepping away from the loud voices that had surrounded you ever since you arrived. The rings stop after three and you almost hang up, not wanting to hear the computerized voice again. Instead though, you hear his Irish accent. “Where the hell are you?” You question, trying your best to keep your tone calm. He sighs, knowing where he is isn’t where he’s supposed to be. “I’m at Richmond Park with Mark,” he admits. He was out golfing. Fucking golf. You take in a deep breath, not wanting to go off on him with your family so close. “Niall,” you begin calmly. “Why are you still in London?” He was meant to be in Brighton, where you were. “I just don’t think I’m ready to meet your entire family,” he confesses. You bring your fingers to pinch the bridge of your nose. “And why didn’t you tell me this sooner? They’re all expecting you to be here.” “I know. I’m sorry, I should have. I just didn’t want to let you down.” “Well this is a lot worse than letting me down. You know I would have understood, right?” “Yeah,” he answers defeated. You had wondered why he hadn’t really said much about meeting all of your family; he never had any intention of actually doing it, at least not yet. “I’m sorry,” he laments. “It’s fine. I’ve got to get back. I’ll talk to you later.” You hang up the phone and begin to make your way back to the group, coming up with an explanation as to why he would now not be showing up at all.

Louis: Your phone had been ringing constantly for the last hour. You had ignored them all. Royal London was not the place to be taking phone calls from annoying sports managers, no matter if they were entitled to know where he was or not. You sit in the corner arm chair, white walls surrounding you as a slight beep keeps the room from silence. He wasn’t meant to be here. He was meant to be back home, in Doncaster. There was a match today and he was meant to be playing. He wasn’t though, obviously. Instead he was laying in that bed, a thin white blanket covering the lower half of his body. His eyes were closed thanks to the medication and he could now rest. He would kill you if he knew you had brought him here. He hated hospitals. You had no choice though. He had knocked himself out completely early this morning. He had slipped on a small puddle of melted ice in the kitchen, falling and banging his head on the hard marble counter top before hitting the floor, the hardwood no help either. You hadn’t witnessed his fall, but the sound of his head hitting the counter replayed in your mind. You had ran into the kitchen to find him unconscious. Immediately dialing for an ambulance, you stayed by his side until someone else arrived to help you. He was going to be fine they had told you once the scans were complete. They would have to monitor the concussion he had given himself, and that meant more trips back here. He would not be happy about that. “It’s a pretty severe one,” the doctor had told you, “but nothing we haven’t seen before. And as long as he refrains from hitting his head anymore, it should heal itself in a few months.” “What does this mean for his job? Like touring and what about the Rovers? He has a few matches coming up,” you question, concerned. “He’s fine to tour. Just make sure he keeps out of the horseplay.” Unlikely. “As for the team, it’s best he doesn’t play. It would be very easy to reinjure himself that way.” Great, he definitely wouldn’t be happy now. You didn’t want to be the one to have to break all of this news to him, but of course it was left up to you. Maybe you could call the doctor in to tell him what he can and cannot do, that way they could get the full force of the attitude and you would only have to deal with the back end. The covers on the bed begin to shift and your eyes move from your phone to the bed. His eyes flutter open as he groans, discovering the immense headache he had given himself early this morning. “What the hell is all of this?” He question, “And why the hell does my head hurt so much?” You get up from the chair and smack his hand away from the tubes attached to his other hand. You walk from the bed and out to the nurse’s station. “Can I get a doctor in 405? He’s awake.” The woman across the desk sitting at the computer nods and smiles before beginning to request a doctor to your room. You walk back to find Louis sitting all the way up in bed, a frown on his face. You didn’t say a word as you sat back down in your chair. “Alright,” you hear from the door as a woman walks in, her long white coat assuring you she was a doctor. “Afternoon Mr. Tomlinson, glad to see you finally decided to join us.” Was she asking for attitude? He crosses his arms. Step one complete. “You gave yourself a pretty solid concussion, so that’s the headache you’re feeling right now. We’ve already done your scans and we will continue to monitor your healing for the next few months We’re going to go ahead and send you home now that you’re awake, but we will set you up an appointment to come back to check your progress.” He was silent. He was pissed. He certainly hadn’t forgotten about the match he had missed. “Right now we’re asking you to keep the horseplay to a minimum and as for the matches we’re told you are supposed to play in, we are requesting you don’t play in those.” “That’s not going to happen,” he snaps back. “If you reinjure your head it could mean permanent damage, which could be harmful to your music career.” He glares at her. She was being reasonable, he just couldn’t see reason.

Zayn: How could they expect him to be up this early? This was even too early for you, and you had a normal sleeping pattern. You roll around under the covers to face him after turning off your alarm. The loud music hadn’t fazed him, it never did. He was so peaceful. You could watch him sleep for hours. He had an interview today. All the boys were supposed to be meeting at the BBC headquarters to talk to Grimmy during the eight o’clock hour of his breakfast show. Your alarm had gone off with plenty of time to wake him up. You didn’t want to wake him though. He hadn’t gotten a lot of sleep lately, and you were very aware of how he was without sleep. Everyone was. You continue to stare at him, a smile stretching across your face. You move closer into him, resting your head against his chest. He breathes in deeply, realizing where you had moved and pulling his arms around you. You were in too deep now, too deep to fully wake him up. He could sleep though, you could let him sleep for a little while longer. Your eyes slowly close again as his warmth against you takes you back to sleep. You are awakened once again by the sound of your phone, this time instead of music it was your ringer. You roll from your warm spot in the middle of the bed to lean over. You grab your phone from the bedside table, the bright screen causing your eyes to squint. You groan as you take the call. “Mmm?” You moan into the line. “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Paul says from the other side. “You all are still in bed, aren’t you?” You moan once more, confirming his assumption. “You need to get him down here,” Paul instructs. “He’s so cute when he sleeps though,” you tease, turning to see Zayn’s still peaceful face. You can’t help but smile. “I don’t care what he looks like when he sleeps, I see it all of the time. He needs to be down here. They’re on air in half an hour.” You hang up then. No need to hear anymore. “Hey babe?” You question softly, “Do you want to be on the radio this morning?” You hear nothing in response. “Didn’t think so,” you reply with a smile on your face. Yes, Paul would be upset that he missed the interview. Zayn, however, wouldn’t care at all and that was all that mattered. You set the phone back on the table after silencing the ringer, not wanting to hear any more of the inevitable calls that would be coming your way in the next hour. You curl back into your spot, more sleep being the only thing on your mind at the moment.