Just Harry Styles one shots. I will be inviting friends to submit their one shots here if they wish. It will be like our little fair. Friends sharing one shots and having a good time. an invitation to people around the world to contribute a piece.
These past few months I have been completely buried in work but needed my wattpad fix during coffee breaks or late at night when I go to bed right before I fall asleep. So I decided that starting new books would be too absorbing and distracting and knowing me I knew that I would deprive myself of sleep or even worse procrastinate so that I'd finish it since I always become one with the characters I read. So I thought that one shots were a safe, wise option. I tried a few and it worked for a while...I say a while because as I was searching for good one shots I came across @peanutboyfriend's work.
I can only say one thing. Thank God I am my own boss because I did deprive myself of my precious sleep and I did procrastinate. She writes what she calls "sexy" one-shots and that they are but they are also so much more. Of course you do find yourself blushing while reading, or even better your hubby might want to kiss her and thank her for getting you in the mood, send her flowers on her birthday, but I repeat they are truly so much more.
This girl has a way with words, she is eloquent and resourceful with new topics and a huge fanbase I might add. She has lots of dedicated fans, who are glued to their phones or laptops waiting eagerly for her new update. So if you haven't read her work, please go ahead and do so, follow her and enjoy the ride.
This girl from Portland, Oregon, USA is not only one witty, cheeky gal she is also very down to earth and giving. Welcome her to the sisterhood!
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New York, NY Today
"Fuck."
The ugly, gray scuff mangling the otherwise perfect glossy patent toe of your brand-new stiletto is deafening. It's exactly your kind of luck to score lavish heels in your size at a sample sale only to have them chafed on the first wear and it makes you second guess why you even insist on trying to own nice things in the first place.
Quiet, defeated mutters tumble from your lips as a frown cuts into your features, the pad of your thumb swiping against the tip of your tongue as you tuck your hair behind your ear and bend down to attempt to blend the scrape into the leather.
The subway platform below your feet is exponentially more filthy than your fashion mishap, covered in grime and cemented pieces of chewing gum that were spat out years ago. Just beyond the edge of your shoe is a bumpy yellow traction pad that signifies the edge of the platform and beyond that, a pit with train tracks and the odd obese rat waddling off in search of scraps of food or trash.
The station at your transfer is packed with people; you rarely travel out of the comfort of Brooklyn to Manhattan if you can help it, but today you have agreed to meet a small group of friends at The MoMA for the Frank Lloyd Wright exhibit followed by a couple rounds of sunset rooftop drinks at the Roof Garden Bar.
You don't exactly fit in with that sort of crowd, but you must admit that it feels good to get tipsy on rosé in the sunshine with the skyline slowly flickering to night at your back. The luster inside of the buildings replacing the vanishing glow from the sky, hundreds of yellow squares compensating for the invisible stars that are drowned by light pollution.
