I will as of now start taking song requests! Only one a chap, and only if it fits. What I love about song fictions is that I never have writer's block, because I can just pick a song and incorporate it into the story, and maybe actually have a plotline fling off of it. I actually based House of Talent off of Safe and Sound by Taylor Swift. I was stuck on that song, and I literally couldn't stop listening to it.

Disclaimer: I don't own Dear John by Taylor Swift, Adele, or House of Anubis

Nina

I woke up in my waterbed, at first unsure where I was. Then, I remembered that I was on tour with Adele with all of my friends. I squealed happily.

A warm body shifted in bed, reacting to my annoying sound. I turned over to see Fabian curled into a ball, a pillow wrapped around his head, which must have been the shift in movement. I giggled. Such a manly position to be in, I thought.

I tapped his shoulder. He groaned, and turned to his side. "I don't want to jog with you, Mick," he mumbled. "Nina doesn't mind that I don't have a six pack." I smiled, and leaned close to his ear. "It's time to wake up," I whispered. He shot up, scared.

I laughed at the defensive pose he'd taken. He had grabbed his leg and pulled it to his chest, and ducked his head ridiculously. When he saw it was me, he lowered his leg and brought up his head. "Looks like someone's scared of Jerome's pranks," I smirked. "They're not as bad as your morning breath," he retorted, leaning in to kiss me. I held up my hand tauntingly, and said, "Ah-ah ah. I'm not going to kiss someone if I have smelly breath." "But it's the sweetest smelling breath in the world," he promised. I smiled and brushed my lips against his.

Pink's song, 'Fuckin' Perfect' started blasting out of my phone that was on my nightstand. I grabbed it and checked the caller ID. I pressed the 'accept' button and ignored Fabian's protesting of how puny that kiss was.

"How's my beautiful and talented star?" Harris sounded like he was hyped up on caffeine. Then again, he always was that way. "I'm fine. Why are you calling at…" I glanced at the analog clock that hung over my bed, "nine thirty in the morning?" "Good question. Very good question in fact. In fact, I'm not usually up at this time-" "Harris," I warned. "Right. Well, Adele's manager says there is to be a rehearsal today at two o'clock p.m. Can you make it?" "Hmm, I don't know. It's not like I'm Adele's opening act and I want to do everything in my power to make a good impression on her crew, not to mention Adele in the first place," I said sarcastically. "Right, right, of course. Well, the place where they are going to be practicing is about two hours away, so you and whatever friends want to come along need to be ready by twelve." "Got it," I said, and hung up.

Fabian grabbed me when I was done. "Why was Harris calling?" His sweet breath washed over me. I smiled, and pressed my lips lightly to his. When he brushed his tongue across my lower lip, I tauntingly pulled away, and whispered into his ear, "Want to go to a professional rehearsal with superstars?" He grabbed my shoulders and pushed me back gently so he could see my face. When he saw that I was serious, he smiled, and asked, "What time do we leave?"

oOoOoOo

"Here we are, madam," Pierre said as we neared the theatre where Adele was singing. "OH MY FREAKING GOD WE ARE MEETING ADELE!" Amber screamed. In the end all of Anubis wanted to go, even Jerome. (That one surprised me.) I took a deep breath. I was the one whose name was known, but I had to be calm, even though the fact that I was performing with Adele made me want to throw up, scream in delight, and run away all at the same time.

Pierre opened my door and handed me an umbrella, even though it was bright and sunny outside. I hopped out, and stared at the big mass before me. There were fences on either side, and it seemed to stretch on for miles. I headed towards the big double doors.

I entered the empty hall. Before me sat a row of ticket holders about a mile down; obviously meant for the giant crowd of fans. I thought about that for a minute. I was like a fan myself; I just happened to make an album that attracted press. Now, I'm here. I had to pinch myself to believe it.

I heard footsteps behind me, and I knew that my friends had found me. I turned around, and smiled at them. I threw my arms wide open. "Welcome to Wonderland." I grinned like an idiot and screamed after those three words.

oOoOoOo

I stare at the dress, then at the stylist. "Oh, hell no," I said.

The dress in question was a heavily sequined, bright red, and had a short skirt that would barely brush my thighs. It had a racer back, and was so low cut I worried my boobs would fall out of it when I tried it on.

The stylist pouted. She had bleached blonde hair, too much makeup, and honestly looked like a fifty year old still trying to lengthen her teenage years that are long gone. "Hon, it'll look fabulous on you," she insisted. "It's not me, and I refuse to become a tart!" I exclaimed. She placed her hand on her hip. "Sweetie pie, I decide your style, and it's this dress, take it or leave it!" she motioned to it. I nodded. "I'll leave it," I said, short of temper, and I stormed out of my dressing room.

The dressing rooms were underneath the stage in this building. I guess that's so Adele could be lifted up on a platform or something, but I didn't care. I stormed up the steps that led up to the stage.

It was ginormous, with stadium seats that covered every available surface until the stage took over (which was massive too,) but all I cared about was finding Harris.

Harris in question was talking to a tall, buff black man, wearing a black shirt that said 'security'. I didn't care, and pulled Harris over, out of the man's earshot.

"What, Nina?" Harris's crystal blue eyes seemed nervous and sad for me, like he thought something bad happened. "I can't work with my stylist! She wants me to put me in the skimpiest dress possible!" I said, with my temper strangely short. "Nina, I'm sorry, but I can't help you," he looked honestly apologetic, like he wished he had the power to help me. "But it's not ME!" I protested.

"Hon, you are the blandest character I've known. I don't know who 'you' are." The annoying voice said. I whirled around to the woman. "I'm certainly not a tramp or somebody trying to act younger than they are!" I insulted. "Well, I'm not someone trying to sing even though they're tone deaf! I don't think you can hit a note to save your life!" she retorted. "Oh, I am going to show you who 'me' is!" I said, and marched out onto the stage, determined. I grabbed the nearest guitar, which was on a stand on the stage, and grabbed a stool.

I thought about what I should sing. It all of a sudden struck me; a song I had written in History class, when we were learning about letters that women were sending letters to their lovers, (usually in WWII) informing the men that the relationship was over, usually because they found another person. I had found it kind of cruel, but fascinating.

I started to sing the song:

Long were the nights when my days once revolved around you

Counting the footsteps, praying the floor won't fall through

Again

And my mother accused me of losing my mind,

But I swore I was fine.

You paint me a blue sky, and go back and turn it to rain

And I lived in your chess game, but you changed the rules everyday

Wondering which version of you I might get on the phone

Tonight

Well, I stopped picking up, and this song is to let you know

Why

Dear John, I see it all now that you're gone

Don't you think I was too young to be messed with?

The girl in the dress cried the whole way home

I should've known

Well maybe it's me, and my blind optimism to blame

Or maybe it's you and your sick need,

To give love and take it away

And you'll add my name to your long list of traitors

Who don't understand

And I'll look back in regret, how I ignored when they said,

'Run as fast as you can'!

Dear John, I see it all now that you're gone

Don't you think I was too young to be messed with?

The girl in the dress cried the whole way home

Dear John, I see it all now, it was wrong

Don't you think sixteen's too young to be played by

Your dark twisted games when I loved you so?

I should've known

You are an expert at sorry, and keeping lines blurry

Never impressed by me acing your tests

All the girls that you've run dry, have tired, lifeless eyes

'Cause you burned them out!

But I took your matches before fire could catch me,

So don't look now

I'm shining like fireworks over your sad, empty town!

Oh, oh, ohh!

Dear John, I see it all now that you're gone

Don't you think I was too young to be messed with?

The girl in the dress cried the whole way home

I see it all now that you're gone

Don't you think I was too young to be messed with?

The girl in the dress wrote you a song

You should've known

You should've known

Don't you think I was too young?

You should've known

I smiled when I finished, and I heard clapping. I was snapped out of my own little world by the sound, and I immediately looked for the noise, probably to shut them up. It turned out I had gathered an audience, with the whole Anubis house, the Security guy, Harris, and (although I thought she looked grudging) the stylist. In fact, they were giving me a standing ovation, Harris and Fabian looking so proud, the security guard amazed, and the stylist vaguely impressed. (The whole Anubis House were just like, 'Yeah, she's amazing, but this is theatre is more amazing'!) "That was very, very good," a voice behind me said. I whirled around to see a very pretty, strawberry blonde woman with watery blue eyes and a cleft chin. I was staring at Adele.

Sorry I didn't update yesterday, but I was very busy.

~ChocoAwesomeness~