cries because it is so lovely

Eight Months.

Even eight months after the break up, Harry still felt the overwhelming urge to check up on you and your life. He would check your social media accounts a few times a week, more so before going to bed when thoughts of you plagued his mind. It felt naughty, wrong in a way; after all, it was him who ended your two year relationship.


“It’s never going to change, Harry! Things will always be the same! You ‘forgot’ my birthday and you spent the day with Kendall. You ‘forgot’ our date night and you spent the evening with Cara. I know it’s what the media want and expect from you, and I know management want you to do this, but I think you want to as well” you sigh, the words you had held for so long in your mouth now finally spilling out.

“You’re joking, right? That was a joke? You seriously think I want to spend any spare time I have with Kendall or Cara over you? Management need me to do this, if I don’t, I can kiss goodbye to my pay cheque! Half the things I do in this job is for you! How the fuck else would you get the latest handbags and purses and shoes?! Who else is going to pay for your education? Because I don’t see you or your family offering to cough up!” he spits almost bitterly.

You gasp in shock at his words. He knew your financial situation at home and that your parent’s worked so bloody hard to provide for you, but it just wasn’t enough. Your future career depended on your qualifications, and those qualifications could only be acquired in higher education in which Harry had offered to pay for, before he knew anything about the money side of things.

“Really, Harry? That’s how you feel? You think I’m with you for the money? I don’t give a damn about the shoes or bags and purses or latest fashion trends. I love you because you’re my boyfriend and I see myself living the rest of my life with you. I don’t love you because you’re Harry Styles from One Direction!” you spit back, your words truthful.

“I’ve heard that one before” he tells you, his eyes averting to the floor.

“So now you’ve got trust issues with me? Other girls may have treated you like that in the past, but I’m not like other girls, Harry. Two years we’ve been together and you really think that of me? When you guys broke up as a band, and you didn’t know what was going to happen to your music career, who was the one sitting up with you every night holding you whilst you cried? Other girls would have run a mile because of the uncertainty of your future. I love you even if you have nothing!” you shout at him.

Harry shrugs his shoulders and bites his lip. “Look, it’s not even just this causing arguments. They’ve been going on for a while and maybe having Kendall and Cara as friends is something you can’t handle. But I can’t live my life like this anymore. I’m done arguing with you all the time” he tells you softly.

“You’re making it sound like I don’t want you having friends, which isn’t true. I want you to put me first, like you did at the start of our relationship. You would have done anything back then for me, Harry. I hate arguing with you too. Maybe if we arrange some sort of schedule and arrange dates in advance to see each other?” you suggest.

Harry shakes his head. “I think it’s too little too late, (Y/N).”

You frown, your bottom lip beginning to quiver as you ask the dreaded question. “Are you breaking up with me.”

Harry’s eyes avert to the floor once more and the silence between you both speaks more volumes than words ever could.


Your Instagram account had been almost inactive for the first month after the break up, with only the occasional bog-standard photos of new make-up purchases and Starbucks coffee. But no selfies and nothing that indicated any happiness in your life. After three months, your social media accounts portrayed some happiness returning to your life as you took selfies with friends on regular nights out, but Harry knew as well as anyone that social media is one massive cover up for reality. Were you really actually happy? Were you living or were you just alive?

It seemed to him that your life continued to appear happy, but after four months of opening the app, he noticed someone by your side. Photograph after photograph, upload after upload, this person would be stood next to you. You had a side when taking photos with Harry, but now somebody else was standing on Harry’s side, taking his place, standing where he should be standing. Then tagging each other on Twitter began taking place. Simple things such as “coffee dates” and memes.

Five months after the messy break up, Harry sighted a picture of the two of you kissing; you and your new beau, as it was publicised. Your lips on his, no doubt his tongue down your throat and he wanted to vomit. It didn’t make social media, but it made the headlines in the news. The media had left you alone a little while after the break up, but of course, a new relationship for you meant gossip amongst the public, especially One Direction fans and Harry girls, and the tabloids couldn’t resist the opportunity.

Upon reaching seven months, Harry noticed another change in you on social media. You were becoming more and more inactive by the day, rarely replying to tweets and the amount of photographs posted reduced. Anybody else would put it down to business in studying and spending time with loved ones, but Harry knew how much you had loved your interactions on social media, and something didn’t sit quite right with him. But then he remembered that he’s not yours and you’re not his, and you have someone else taking care of you now.


Eight months later, and Harry still had you on his mind almost every minute of the day. He would awake in the morning with the help of his alarm but your hair wasn’t sprawled across the pillows as he would expect; he no longer bothered eating breakfast in the mornings; gone are the days when he used keep something warm on the stove for you, for when you awoke, ensuring you had something warm for your hungry tummy in the mornings; he had nobody to send a morning text to. His routine was completely out of sync and nothing over the last few months made it any better.

He would come home every evening to an empty apartment. He had nobody to cook dinner for. He had nobody to talk to about his day. He had nobody to snuggle up to at night. He had nobody to kiss. He had nobody to love and he had nobody to love him.

Some nights would be simple; Harry would climb into bed and flick on the television, watching a favourite film in which he no longer got pleasure out of. He’d check his social media, and then check yours, before setting his alarm and falling asleep, his dreams of you haunting him throughout the night.

Other nights, he’d yearn for you. He loved you, still loves you, and wants nothing more than to hold you whilst you sleep and keep you safe in his embrace. But he would yearn for you in other ways too, awakening in the night from happy dreams of you, his cock hard for you. He would lay awake between the sheets, grinding his hips into them and rubbing himself vigorously as he imagined being inside of you. He would let himself go completely when he could imagine the moans that would leave your lips, the breathlessness you would encounter, and it was as though he could almost feel you come around him.

He hadn’t been in another relationship since the split, but there had been a couple of one night stands. In a way to get over you, ironically, he would fuck others that had similar traits to you. The same hair colour, the same laugh, the same smile. But neither of those girls were you. He didn’t really want them, they just happened along with the alcohol consumption of both parties involved. After two girls, he stopped. He wasn’t sure if it was the reality of the situation that made him stop, or if it was the slap he received one night.


The music was pounding against the speaker, the DJ’s were screaming out and giving shoutouts, mostly for people’s birthday’s and other celebrations, bartenders were leaning over the bar in an attempt to actually hear what the customers were ordering in the club, and everyone was like sardines, squashed together, but everyone seemed to be enjoying it and having a good time. Everyone except Harry.

He occasionally moved around and shuffled his feet in an attempt to dance, but he felt so lost without you there. He kept an eye out to see if you were around, almost forgetting that you didn’t go there together. He always used to keep an eye on you, making sure you were safe on the dance floor and that no drunken men took advantage of you. He was your protector. 

“What’s your name?” a young blonde asked. That was the only thing that was same about the two of you. You’re blonde and so was she. But she wasn’t you. Harry wasn’t too sure if she was just acting oblivious to the fact that he was the most famous, most well-known person in the club, or whether she was just so drunk that she barely knew her own name, let alone his.

“Harry” he told her, placing his hand on the small of her back and pulling her closer so as they could hear each other’s spoken words over the thumping music.

The girl nods. “Louise” she tells him. “Fancy getting out of here?” she asks. 

Harry nods. He realises she’s not as drunk as he thought she was, but taking in her features, she looked a few years older than him. Maybe she really didn’t know who he was.

“Mine or yours?” she asks as they stumble out of the nightclub and onto the streets of London. Louise quickly hails a taxi as Harry replies, “yours.”

Whilst his own place seemed more appealing as he wouldn’t have the awkward ‘leaving after a shag’ stage, he didn’t want to take her, or anyone, to his bed. Only you got the privilege to be in his bed. He didn’t fuck anyone else in his bed, only you. He didn’t want anyone else to come in the sheets besides the two of you together and for each other.

The taxi ride back to hers was soon over and they stumbled through her apartment, his lips pressed to hers. Their eyes remained closed as he thought about you. Undressing you. Running his hands up and down your body and caressing your breasts as you laid all bare for him, for his eyes only.

Harry breathlessly pulls aways as he lifts up the miniskirt. They both quickly realise this is nothing more than sex up against the wall. She’s not taking him to bed either, and Harry wonders if Louise is also getting over someone. Within the next thought, he doesn’t care. He does’t love Louise. He loves (Y/N).

The blonde grabs at his belt, unbuckling it and unzipping his trousers, his length exposed to her. He quickly reaches into his back pocket before letting his trousers drop and rips open the packaging. Covering himself with the latex, he soon pushes himself into her. She gasps, taking him in, before moving quickly against him.

They’ve both been drinking and he knows his performance will be affected greatly, so he’s not surprised when he quickly comes inside of her, moaning her name. She gasps and he withdraws from her quickly. Before even getting the chance to dress himself, her hand collides with his cheek.

“Louise! I told you my name is Louise!” she yells at him angrily.

And in that moment, he realises that he moaned your name when he came.


He arrived home from the studio and continued his evening rituals. No work the following day meant he could have a later night and whilst he was glad to be able to sleep in later and not have the demands of an alarm clock, he knew from experience that on a day off where he lacked a busy schedule, you would be on his mind more than ever.

The night passed with Harry doing nothing more than eating his evening meal and lounging around in front of the television, flicking through channels to find something to entertain him for a few hours. He occasionally reached for the bottle of whiskey, pouring himself small measures each time. Whilst the drinking had become a regular habit a few months back, Harry had realised that drowning his problems with alcohol helped nobody, not even himself, and he kicked the habit almost as quickly as it had started. No amount of alcohol got you out of his head.

The comedy shows provided some entertainment, and whilst there were a few forced laughs, Harry did find some of the jokes genuinely funny. He couldn’t remember the last time he laughed properly.

Tapping his watch with a yawn, he checked the time. Flicking off the television set, he threw the remotes back on the sofa and picked his body up from the position he had been in for hours. A loud, repeated knock on the door made him jump slightly. The banging got harder and more frantic and he could only wonder who would be calling in on him at this hour. “Alright, I’m coming!” he yelled in frustration. Couldn’t his unwanted and unwelcome guest wait two minutes?!

Heading into the hallway, he unlocked the door, pouting his lips to express his emotion, making sure the person on the other side of it knew he was angry at the disturbance and the complete lack of respect for him and his property. As far as they were aware, he may well have had work the next morning. Swinging the door open,  he gasps, taking in the demeanour of the person standing in front of him, the sight almost killing him as bile rose in his stomach and a nauseous feeling took control of his body.

Bon’s Midnight Screechings: 3x06 ‘A Malcolm’ (1 of ?)

Originally posted by teachingfeelslike

  • Obvi the Madame Jeanne bit at the beginning was a great fakeout, to make us experience some of the same doubt as Claire, so while that was jarring, I think it worked really well 
  • Polishing the J/C 4EVA  sign !!! MY HEART!!!!
  • LOVED introducing the sense of danger with the Ardsmuir men poking about in the shop. NEW RUPERT AND ANGUS, YOU LADS HAVE BIG SHOES TO FILL. DINNA LET US DOWN. WE EXPECT SHENANIGANS OUT THE WAZOO
  • GEORDIE’S GOITER OMFG. IS CLAIRE GONNA HEAL HIM?? EAT YO FISHES, GEORDIE MY UPTIGHT BRO (also is it just be me or do Wee Ian Geordie and Jamie’s Fraser cousin whose name escapes me all look eerily alike??) 


next installments under the tag: A Malcolm Screechings

anonymous asked:

What would be Harry's first word? How would it happen????

Remus spends a lot of time at the Potters. Not for James, although he would always be his brother, and not even for Lily, who he had trusted since the moment he met; but for Harry. 
The little boy with the emerald eyes and beginnings of a messy head of dark hair. the boy who had no understanding of the dangers he had been born in to or the reasons his mother cried at night as his father held her and promised he wouldn’t let a thing happen to them. 

That little boy knew nothing but love and warmth. Something in that was addictive to Remus, because even in the shitstorm, even when Dumbledore asked the impossible and sirius began to pull away, even when everyone else in his life began to suspect and think him a monster, Harry smiled. 
He smiled and laughed and held his arms up to Remus, knowing him to be nothing but a comfort. 

And so it didn’t come as a shock, not really. 


“thats it! mama, can you say mama?” lily cooed as she sat on the floor with Harry, Remus across the room reading the daily horrors in the news paper. They used to make him flinch as he read, or stir a wave of anxiety within him, not any more. You can get used to anything, even a nightmare. 

“mama” lily says again, spelling it out for him this time “come on Harry I can’t lose another bet to your dad, I need you to say mama” 

“mmmmm” Harry tries again, looking up at Lily in delight “mmmm-moony” 

Remus’ head snaps up at the sound and he looks between Lily and her son in complete shock “did he just-” he whispers before beginning to talk himself out of it, telling himself it had just been another noise to sound like a word but Harry cuts him off.


Lily looks up at Remus and folds her arms before a wide smile spread across her face “Alright fine, Moony… I can live with that” she says before scooping Harry in to her arms and beginning to shower him in a million praises. Remus didn’t know when he had started smiling but he knew in that moment that no matter what this war brought or who it took away he would protect that little boy until his last breath.

The war passed and a new one came but Remus never forgot that promise and ultimately, he kept it. 

anonymous asked:

i have such a hc about isak reading cmbyn and it only takes him like two days cause he loves it so much and he finishes it when evens at work and he's crying when his boyfriend comes home and now isak's all clingy and sad but also so so so happy that his story got a happy and he ended up with the boy he loves (i just finished cmbyn because u recommend it and i cried so hard ((i really home the movie ends somewhat happier)))

Omg… honestly i made a friend of mine read cmbyn. he has a boyfriend and they’re super cute but also super dumb like “not exclusive” “not too serious” “never said ILY to the other”. Except they’re so gone for each other and spend all their time together. So anyways. My friend reads cmbyn and his world is shaken and he tells his boyfriend that he loves him the next day. And now they’re ridiculously in love and I hate them.

How cute is that?? It killed me haha. This book kinda makes you realize that you have to live your life to the fullest and stop being weird to “protect yourself”. Just feel what you feel.

So yeah i definitely thought about how Isak and Even are the luckiest and cutest boys in the world. “To speak or to die?” To speak is definitely their answer in all universes combined

anonymous asked:

Mermaid Ozzy longs to sleep with her human husband, but she needs to keep her gills damp and he can’t breathe underwater. He eventually gets her some water sacks to wear over her gills on land so she can spend more time with him. He cries as he cuddles her because she seems so delicate and it’s hard to maintain an interspecies relationship, but she loves Ed the way he is and humans fascinate her.

I marched for the last time ever last night, and I feel so fucking empty. I woke up feeling like someone I loved was dead. I’m struggling not to start crying again as I write this. Marching band has been my life for the past four years, it’s the only thing I loved more than FT. I had my friends, and the whole band as my family. We were all so goofy, and I got to watch so many of them grow up a bit. We laughed and cried and sang and played our hearts out.

And as they quickly mourn over the loss of just a show, and look forward to next season, my fellow seniors and myself are all out of tokens, we only have four. They’re all used up and we can’t buy any more. For that we all cry, because how could we not. We are forced to leave our hearts and our souls behind.

A lot of you won’t understand. Either you weren’t in marching band, or you weren’t on a group that was as special as mine.

We are the underdogs, the bottom of the top classes, almost there but so close. We are broke as fuck but we make up for lack of props, lack of base drops, lack of color, with our own spirit.

I was a part of something absolutely incredible, and now it’s gone. I just feel so empty and so sad.

A Ravendor Here

I have three that pop into my mind and I hope you don’t mind hearing all three.

The first involves my little sister, who with all of her young heart thought she would be sorted into Gryffindor on Pottermore. She was like eight years old at the time, so she was really pumped. Her face dropped when she got Slytherin and she started crying. I was like, “Hey kiddo, what’s wrong?” She cried harder and because of the stigma Rowling placed on the house and how Slytherins were portrayed in movies…the kid asks, “Does this mean I’m evil?” She never read the books until recently and she still insists she’s Gryffindor, but I remember telling her that the house doesn’t make the person. I went full out logic on her and said I would still love her no matter what house she was in and that Slytherins weren’t all evil. She was still my sister and I thought she was bright enough to be in Slytherin. I told her they were sneaky, like people who loved pranks and that they wanted to be the best people they could be. She cheered up after that, but Gryffindor is where she feels most at home. This Ravendor showed her the positives in the most logical way I could for someone her age, I was open minded to her house and I accepted her, all while bringing my secondary in…trying to be a good role model.

My second brings out more of the love I have for multiple languages while protecting my fiance. We were taking a walk and we had to run across the street. People at this light didn’t care if you were a pedestrian or not. My fiance crossed behind me and some jerk pulls up in his car and starts mocking him through the window. I put my hand on my umbrella like a sword and immediately ran over. Nobody teased my Gryffindor and got away with it. While Ravenclaws aren’t about conflict, I swore at him in every Italian cuss word I could think of. The guy was confused and asked what I said. Being the Ravenclaw I am, I repeated every word I said in English while ensuring he fled in fear. He needed to learn right? Which he did…I never saw someone speed off so fast.

The third and final was a trip my fiance and I took to New York City. He’s a Gryffinclaw and coupled with a Ravendor, we were curious about everything. We planned out our adventure and spent the day in scenic locations. We visited the Metropolitan and admired the architecture of Grand Central Terminal. Then we had a little bout of competition and ordered a bunch of hot dogs to see who could eat the most. Let’s just say curiosity killed the lion and the eagle.

Hey, I remember you and your fiance! How have you guys been?

Anyway, the first story was so cuuute! Well, okay, they all were, but this one was particularly sweet :)

The second one savage af, and you need to teach me some Italian swear words, okay??

In the third one, I really loved the line where you said, “Let’s just say curiosity killed the lion and the eagle.” Really clever XD


We don’t much remember that Freyr, the Norse god of harvest, also had the unique property that women couldn’t be harmed near him. Not because he would attack those who wanted them harm, but because it was like a magic shield was put on them. Weapons would literally break on impact with women’s skin if he was around.

Gerd is the only jotun woman romantically involved with the gods who is consistently depicted as big, and often fat. That’s because in the story about Freyr falling in love with her he especially admires her “big, white arms”. It also makes sense that a god of harvest and plenty would love a woman embodying that.
Freyr, his sister Freya and their father Njord (who also married a jotun btw) are all gods of fertility in each their own way, so I like to depict them as overweight too, though not as big as Gerd.

I also like depicting Freyr as something of a classic romantic hero because of how hopelessly and dramatically he falls in love with Gerd. He longs for her and cries when he thinks he can’t be with her, and gets depressed because he has to wait a whole week to meet her in person. Also, the reason why he doesn’t have a sword is because he gave it to Gerd as a present.

And Gerd is a tough lady. Freyr’s servant threaten her with death (without Freyr knowing) and she doesn’t give a shit. He had to threatened her with bad luck for the rest of her life before she agreed to meet Freyr.

Her father is the sea jotun Ægir which is why I tend to give her a sea inspired look.


make me choosevilde and noora or jonas and isak? (asked by @orpheaus)

eres bonita como eres. you’re so cute, thank you so much ❤️ […] but hello, i don’t take spanish, what does it say? tienes que averiguarlo por tu misma, amiga.   


kuroo tetsurou ✩☾

   [ ⏤ requested by @kuroostetsurou ]


“I’m done fighting. I just want to go home.”

“You can’t go home, Julie. I’m sorry. We can go anywhere else in the whole universe, but we can’t go home. I need you to know, whatever happens, wherever you go, you’re not gonna do it alone.”


Noctis: for my beloved Eav


hoseok birthday bonanza!

day 06 - dancing

Here is my commission from @gabriel-fucking-agreste​! This was so much fun to do! I’m super thankful that I got to do this incredibly cute prompt. Ugh they’re so precious!

Commissions are still open!

I cried alone in bathroom today,
for everyone that came but didn’t stay.
because of the pain I felt when people I cared about ignored me,
for when they knew I was breaking but still chose not to see.
for when I felt all alone,
because people treated me like a pawn.

  I cried alone in bathroom today,
because there were a million things that I wanted to say.
But there was no one to tell,
I just wondered why this place felt like a hell.
All of my feeling have got rotten inside,
Still I put on a smile because I know it’s better to hide.

So I cried alone in bathroom almost everyday,
hoping someday the pain will either fade or go away.

—  heaart-talk