i think about this picture at least five times a day

procraesthetics  asked:

I wonder what would happen if Dudley grew up in the wizarding world but still as a muggle? like kind of reverse AU where his parents are dead and he has to go to Lily for whatever reason? do you think he would become bitter like Petunia about magic?

Lily remembered her sister, how there had been a time she was curious and delighted about magic, before it slowly sank in that she could look and not touch.

The last thing Petunia had said to Lily before she died was a chilly goodbye, ending a holiday dinner where they’d had a shrieking row in the entryway. Petunia had said freak and Lily had hissed better than this, better than this being my whole fucking world, Tune, do you even see yourself, are you happy–

And now here was Dudley Vernon Dursley fussing himself to sleep as Lily walked the halls of the Godric’s Hollow house. His tiny soft hands with their tiny soft fingernails curled under her chin, the same way Harry always had.

She passed James, who was gently bouncing his way up the hall the opposite way. “I think he’s asleep,” James mouthed over Harry’s tousled head. His hair was the same mess, bent down to peer at his sleeping son.

Lily stopped where she stood, her nephew heavy on her chest, her husband smiling, her sister buried. “James,” she said. “How are we going to do this?”

“Oh,” he said. “Hey. Don’t you cry, you’ll start them off– unless you need to cry, I mean, you go ahead, hey, sweetheart, hey, it’s alright, you just let it out.” He stepped forward, shifting Harry gently to his other shoulder, and pressed his forehead to hers. “We tuck them in, okay, that’s what we do next. Then we go to our own bed, okay, and go to sleep, and when we wake up it’ll be a new day.”

“A new day,” she said. “Another day– James, that’s the– I’m so tired.”

“So let’s sleep. It’ll look better in the morning,” he said. “And if it doesn’t look better this morning, it’ll look better in the next one.”

“You promise?”

“Better than that. I’ll show you. Every day,” he said and kissed her cold forehead.

Dudley had not shown up on the Potters’ doorstep with the milk bottles. Lily had gotten a phone call from the landline she still had installed in Godric’s Hollow, about an accident, and she had gone down to the Muggle police station to identify the bodies.

The cupboard under the stairs was filled with spiders, broomsticks, and the sewing machine Lily’s mother had given her when she married James– that’s all. Dudley slept downstairs. Uncle Remus taught Dudley and Harry to knock out coded messages through the wall their rooms shared.

In the backyard, beside a rickety porch and an ambitious hedge, James taught them to fly– first on little tot brooms where their toes brushed the grass the whole time, then out of the barrels of practice brooms James used for lessons and coaching Little League Quidditch.

When the boys turned ten, five weeks apart, they both got shiny new Nimbuses on Dudley’s birthday (which came first), and a set of enchanted Quidditch balls on Harry’s, to share. The Bludgers were enchanted to be very kind but Dudley spent long afternoons whacking them far afield while Harry chased the Snitch at his back.

Harry had a scar on his forehead, like a jagged bit of lightning. Dudley had no scars– the car crash that had killed his parents hadn’t touched him where he sat strapped into a car seat in the back, chewing on a stuffed dinosaur toy.

Lily did not believe in lying to the children. She was bare years off being a child herself, and spare moments on the far side of a war. When Dudley asked about his parents, she told him there had been an accident. She pulled pictures off the shelf and wrote Petunia’s old university friends for more.

Photographs came by mailman, the images still and unnatural to Dudley’s eye. Every day he’d gone out to play, for years, he’d been waving at the picture near the back door of his aunt and uncle on their wedding day, and they waved back every time.

“She was very clever,” Lily said. “Your mom liked to know everything.”

“And my dad?”

“Vernon liked… cars?” James offered. “That’s the word, right, Lily?”

“I didn’t know him very well,” Lily said. “He liked drills, I think; he worked for a firm that made them, and he talked about that a lot.”

Dudley brushed his thumbs over the dull edges of the photos. When Lily went off to Auror headquarters the next morning for work, James bundled the boys up and took them on an impromptu invisible tour of Grunnings Drill Manufacturing Inc.

They tiptoed down halls and past water coolers and ringing fellytones. They held hands under the Cloak as they dodged around the machines on the manufacturing floor, thumping and pounding and whirring away loudly enough that Harry and Dudley could whisper to each other under the noise. An elevator took them all the way up to the top floor. Harry whistled cheerily and eerily along with the elevator music while the Muggles slowly edged toward the doors and pressed floor buttons lower than they’d originally wanted.

There were boxes and cabinets and folders and desks and staticky monitor screens full of numbers strewn in endless grids. “Merlin’s knuckles,” said Harry, who was seven and a half and rather proud of this expletive. “People can look at this all day, their whole lives, and not die?”

“Work is hard work,” said James.

“At least mum gets to curse things.”

“But my dad liked it?” Dudley said, peering at a white board that was bleeding enthusiastic marker. “There’s a lot of things, here. Maybe he liked knowing things, too.”

When the boys asked about the scar on Harry’s forehead, Lily and James looked at each other. “You know how sometimes we sit with Uncle Remus and talk about a war?” James said. “Or with Ms. Amelia or Mr. Mundungus.”

“Mr. Mundungus is kinda smelly,” Harry said helpfully.

“It’s not nice to say so though,” said James, and Lily made a face.

“Are we raising them to be nice?” Lily said.

“I’m trying,” said James.

“You talk about a war,” said Harry and shrugged. Dudley nodded.

“There was a very bad man, in those days,” said James.

“Voldemort,” said Lily, and James made a face.

“He was so scary a lot of people don’t like to say his name, even now,” said James. “And he was coming after us because we had been fighting against him, in the war. He came to the house and he tried to hurt you, Harry. But it didn’t work. It hurt him instead, and gave you that scar.”

“Is he going to come back?” said Dudley, who was paler than his normal pink.

“No one’s heard of him since then,” said Lily.

“Where were you?” said Harry, because all his life they had been right there.

“Oh,” said Lily, but her throat closed up.

“We were at Dudley’s mum and dad’s funeral,” said James. “Our friend– our friend Sirius was watching you two. The bad man, he came to the house. He. Well. I.”

“Sirius died,” said Lily, one hand squeezing James’s knee and the other reaching down to brush hair off Dudley’s forehead. “You lived, Harry, and Voldemort vanished. And that’s why sometimes people stare in the streets, baby.” James tweaked Harry’s collar absently.

Two days after they had buried Lily’s sister, the Potters had stood together in the first chills of November and buried James’s brother.

Sirius had been burned off the Black family tree years before. Lily and James had talked to his cousin Andromeda, to Remus, and then they had laid him to rest in the Potter family plot. At the wake, they’d told old jokes about squirrel breath, shedding, and man’s best friend. Remus had fallen asleep on their couch and stayed for a month.

It took a two hour row with HR for Lily to get two passes to the Ministry’s Bring Your Kid To Work Day.

“He’s a Muggle.”

“He’s not,” Lily snapped. “He’s family.”

She had to get permission, sign a million forms, and she also had to take the boys in early so that Dudley could get smothered in the spells that would keep the Anti-Muggle wards around the Ministry from activating on him. “If a Muggle stumbles in somehow, they just see a funny-smelling supply cabinet and turn back around,” Lily told Dudley. He nodded and dragged Harry off by the wrist to go look at the fountain.

The windows were pouring sunlight into the underground room– the maintenance workers had just gotten a win on their contract negotiations and had banished the grimy rain-spattered windows of the previous weeks. The light hit the falling water, the golden statues, and the small excitable crowd of Ministry dependents who were gathering in the atrium. Dudley was fishing about in the fountain for Knuts to toss back out again, elbow-deep, and Harry was laughing and coming up with weird wishes to make on them.

Lily hadn’t said son. She’d said family, and that was true enough, wasn’t it? She didn’t say son– she had a son, and she had a nephew, a ward, another child who came to her after nightmares and scraped knees. It was not less, it was just words.

Lily worried about stealing more things from Petunia. Tuney had shrieked at her, in ladies’ restrooms and suburban foyers, had hissed at her in grocery store aisles and family dinners, because Lily got everything. And now Lily had her son.

Lily could just imagine it– could just see Petunia’s face twisting and chin stabbing at the air. You could have anything, and you took my son– my son!

“You left him to me,” Lily whispered, but that wasn’t quite right. “You left,” she whispered, and that wasn’t quite right either, so she strode off toward the fountain to ask the boys if they wanted to go see the Auror spellwork ranges. Dudley’s sodden shirt sleeves dripped all over the Ministry floors. Harry’s hair fell down into his eyes and they both grinned bright enough to rival the spelled sunlight.

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Six Years and Seven Days

This is pretending that Bellamy could hear Clarke talking all those years, she just can’t hear him responding, and that the ship at the end is them coming back to Earth. 

So…pain. 


Day Three

“Bellamy…are you up there? Are you alive? Is anyone alive?”

Static.

“I only woke up yesterday. At least, I think it was yesterday. I barely made it into the bunker in time, but I made it. And the computer says it’s been three days since the radiation hit, and I was so hungry I thought I might die. Please tell me you didn’t die.”

Silence.

“Bellamy, my mom was right. In a way. My face is disgusting, covered in boils. You’d be laughing at me…probably. Because she was right but so were you. I’m not dead Bellamy. I hope you aren’t either.”

His fingers slammed on the respond button, pushing it down to the point of it feeling like it would crack from the pressure.

“I’m not dead, Clarke. I’m not dead.”

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more texts for you bitches

ANGSTY TEXTS, BITCH

[text] You should have told me you wanted me out of your life.
[text] I should have never let you back into my life.
[text] Okay [muse’s name] what’s the deal, pretty sure this is you…listen if you want me to leave you alone, please just tell that.
[text] Please don’t walk away.
[text] Please don’t do this.
[text] When are you going to realize I want nothing to do with you?
[text] You want nothing to do with me, I get it.
[text] I’m an idiot. You fooled me again.
[text] When I think things are about to change … I’m always proven wrong.
[text] I just want you to be happy. And you’ll be happier without me.
[text] I just hate that someone could make me trust [him/her/them] the way that I did
[text] The truth is I’m not over you.
[text] The truth is I never really wanted to be with you.
[text] I’m seeing someone else.
[text] How the hell did you get my number, stalker?
[text] You’re so selfish.
[text] I just saw you leave with [her/him/them].
[text] FUCK YOU AND YOUR DUMB CUTE FACE

LOVING TEXTS, BITCH

[text] Did I tell you today that you’re the most adorable? Cause, yeah.
[text] Be careful.
[text] I’m only saying it because I love you.
[text] I’m only saying it because I care about you.
[text] Okay, I’m bringing coffee.
[text] I’m thinking dinner and a movie later this week?
[text] Let me take you out, please?
[text] Let me make you dinner tonight.
[text] I want you to be happy.
[text] You’re always safe with me.
[text] I can’t stop thinking about you.
[text] I seriously don’t know what I’d do without you.
[text] I know you may not feel like you are, but you are loved. And important. Please don’t forget that.
[text] It was so good seeing you.
[text] You don’t need this shit.
[text] I’ll be there in five minutes.
[text] Let me help, please?
[text] You’re important to me.
[text] Stop falling asleep in the bathtub. You’re going to drown and die and leave me and I’m not having that.
[text] I would gladly watch Netflix and eat Thai with you any day.
[text] I’d give up my phone charger AND the last piece of gum for you. That’s love.
[text] Hey beautiful no judgment but why is there a bucket of KFC chicken in the bathtub??

ANGRY TEXTS, BITCH

[text] If you don’t want me to bust your window, I suggest you answer the phone. Now.
[text] To quote Mean Girls, you’re a fugly slut.
[text] Are you SERIOUSLY bringing that up right now!?
[text] Lose my number, asshole.
[text] You’re so predictable and obnoxious. And it’s not only me who thinks so.
[text] …The least you could do is answer, wtf.
[text] You’re a piece of shit human being and an even worse friend.
[text] This is YOUR FAULT. And you can’t even pretend like it isn’t, because you know it is.
[text] Why couldn’t you just stay out of it?
[text] Holy fucking shit, take a hint, asshole.
[text] Go fuck yourself.
[text] What the fucking hell is wrong with you?
[text] You can take your stuff back as long as I don’t light it on fire first.
[text] I have cramps and a migraine so you do NOT want to mess with me right now
[text] Bye and have a very fuck you day

SEXY TEXTS, BITCH

[text] Just let me suck your dick and be happy. Let me have this.
[text] Why are you so hot…like honestly, it’s not fair.
[text] Yeah, you looked good in your [dress/shirt/pants] last night but really, they looked way better on my floor.
[text] Come over. With condoms.
[text] You should come over, clothing optional.
[text] I feel like a nasty slut and I LOVE IT
[text] Sorry I got drunk and texted you about my sex life
[text] Sex on a rooftop - trashy or adventurous?
[text] If you’re not at my apartment, shirtless, in five minutes, I will be personally offended.
[text] I don’t think he likes that I’m always sending him pictures of me in my bra but he needs to get it together
[text] It’ll be like The Notebook, except with way more of my penis.
[text] I didn’t know that all of his brothers would be hot and musically inclined, too. That’s a dick move on behalf of biology.
[text] I DON’T WANT YOUR DICK. I WANT BRUNCH.
[text] So is it your turn now to pretend like dating someone else would stop us from fucking?
[text] I just need some of your time and all of your body.
[text] I am available for nakedness
[text] I think about [him/her/them] when I masturbate so I guess you could call it love

DRUNK TEXTS, BITCH

[drunk text] So wat are you really over me no w
[drunk text] AND I UNFOLLOWED YOU ON INSTAGRAM TOO, BITCH
[drunk text] You are my queen and my savior and I love you forever
[drunk text] You are the most beautiful girl I have ever known
[drunk text] I’m eating macaroni and cheese on a slice of pizza and autocorrect just wrote that text for me pretty much, what’s your night like
[drunk text] Listen up slut, you’re one hot piece of ass and if [he/she/they] doesn’t realize it, it’s their loss
[drunk text] but what’s the point of a Disney sing off party if you’re not here. You have to be be the Pumbaa to my Timon
[drunk text] Can you pls remind me tomorrow of how much of a fool I made myself tonight
[drunk text] FUCK YOU YOU’RE GORGEOUS
[drunk text] I think maybe you and me should like go out and eat pizza or something check yes or no
[drunk text] Please don’t hate me I’m too tired and too dizzy to be hated
[drunk text] I hate (him/her) but less when I’m drinking. Thanks, alcohol.
[drunk text] Omf g you need to get over here now I think I’m dyin
[drunk text] SWEEEEEEEET CAROLINE

anonymous asked:

Yo could you share some of your headcanons for the deh kiddos :O ?! I'm really curious!!

*cracks knuckles* HEADCANONS UNDER THE CUT (these are generally feel-good and going off of a Connor Lived And Everything Gets Better AU set of ten [+ one extra] headcanons for the kids where they’re all friends)

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Harry Fake Dates Kendall but is in Love With You

A/n: This is an updated version of an imagine I’ve previously uploaded. I know Hendall is so 2015. I get it.

Masterlist linked in bio.


The red wine leaves a particular stain on Harry’s lips that he hadn’t noticed until Kendall pointed it out to him.

“It looks like you’re wearing lipstick” she laughs, “I didn’t know you were going to dress up this much for the party.”

They are currently sat at his mum’s kitchen island, drinking red wine while munching on some chips left out for the guests. The house is filled with familiar faces, friends and family all throughout London coming together for Anne’s birthday celebration.

They hosted one every year for as long as Harry could remember, a time of year where nearly every one of his family members, including his step family, would unite. It was their favorite time of year, believe it or not. Despite all the excitement for the holidays, Anne’s birthday celebration was certainly something special.

It was Kendall’s first time attending, considering the fact that Harry had only really talked to her whenever he was assigned to be with her for publicity. It wasn’t always ideal, however, he built a stable friendship with her, so he didn’t mind the extra company with him from time to time.

She was invited last minute, of course, since his management called last night to ask if there was any way for them to be seen together. With Harry’s new movie coming out and his solo album just released a couple weeks ago, it was almost a given for him to be rumored with a girlfriend. That’s how it’s worked all throughout his career.

He normally wouldn’t have minded, however, this was the worst possible date for him to be with Kendall.

Because it’s Anne’s birthday party, this means that it’ll be the first time in one year that he’ll be seeing Y/n. They have been best friends since they were five years old, basically growing up in the same house as they went through school together. But as time went on, and as they both went to their separate ways, it was hard to keep in touch with each other all the time.

She remained in the small towns of London while Harry was traveling world wide, where his name became known everywhere as Y/n’s was only known through people she attended school with. Of course, they still talked, considering they both admitted to having more than friendship feelings, but their lives were busy in their own ways, preventing them from being more than what they wanted to be.

For the past couple months, Harry planned that this would be the day he’d finally move forward with Y/n. Or, at least attempt to. With the loss of her over the past year, it made Harry realize just how much he couldn’t imagine a life without her. It had been so long—too long, and he couldn’t stand how long he’s lived without keeping in touch with her.

But now, everything he planned for the two of them is becoming impossible. He can’t begin to imagine how Y/n would feel knowing he brought Kendall to his mum’s birthday party after they both confessed their love for each other. In all honesty, he wouldn’t blame her for giving up on him. He keeps doing this to her, even if it’s unintentional.

He watches around the kitchen at the guests he hasn’t seen in quite a while. His leg bounces with impatience when each new person walking in to attend the party isn’t Y/n. It’s been nearly an hour and has never been so late to anything before.

And as horrible as it sounds, he almost wishes she doesn’t come, just so that she can avoid the heartbreak that will come when she reunites with Kendall again.

“I’m sorry I’m late!”

Harry’s head whips around when he hears the voice he’s been deprived of for the past year. The first thing he notices are her lips, and the way they move around her words so softly. They’re slightly glazed with a lipgloss, painting her lips with a rosy shade of pink. They look so much fuller to him now, but he knows not a trace of them are artificial.  

His eyes only drift from the shape of her lips when her fingers reach to tuck loose pieces of hair behind her ear. It’s then he notices just how much shorter her hair has gotten. What was once so long and lank is now falling just above the shoulder, set in luscious curls he can only imagine twisting around his fingers.

His jaw goes slack when he sees the pale pink dress she’s wearing. It’s made from silk, the metallic fabric glowing with each step she takes. He gulps when he notices just how much the dress accentuates the curvature of her body and how much of her legs are put on display for him to see, and he can’t help but to wipe the sweat off his palms when he watches her greet his mother with a proper kiss on the cheek.

He notices that his eyes haven’t shut since he’s seen her, but he’s so completely intrigued by how much has changed in her. Something about her seems so much more real—so much more vibrant—and he can’t seem to stop himself from praising how time has done her so goddamn well.

“You never told me she was going to be here.“

His body jerks at Kendall’s sudden appearance, her body slowly occupying the seat next to his at the kitchen island. If it wasn’t for her, he swears he would have caught himself drooling.

“Didn’t think I had to,” he says with a shrug, “she’s been my best friend since we were five. She’s basically apart of this family, she wouldn’t have missed this for the world.”

Y/n hasn’t missed a single one of Anne’s birthday celebrations since she’s known Harry. Their bond is irreplaceable—so irreplaceable, in fact, that Anne has been convinced Y/n is a miracle for their family. She was there for them through all the troubled times; helping them through their hardships and family instabilities.

When Anne and her husband first got divorced, Harry and Y/n were seven. Harry didn’t understand much of what was happening, all he knew was that his mum and dad weren’t going to love each other anymore. He was hurting, even when Gemma was there to try and keep him together. He started to believe everything between his parents was a lie.

She understood the whole separation process. Her mum left her at a young age, leaving her alone with her father. They were close, of course, but she always missed having a mother figure in her life. It made her upset to know she could only listen to one voice in the house, but as she grew older, she accepted it more.

By the time she met Harry, he kept bringing her over to his house as the years went on. Anne was the closest she had to mother, and their bond became unbreakable by the time Y/n was a teenager. Nearly seven years of Y/n being like another member of the family, Y/n started buying Anne Mother’s Day cards.

So when Y/n watched her second family fall apart, along with Anne’s heart, and she was determined to patch them back together again. Even at her young age, she’d pick flowers from her garden and give them to Anne everyday after school. Y/n said they represented her, and how she felt being a woman with such love and beauty could die all too quickly. Harry never understood what it meant, but Y/n did, which is why she never stopped until she heard Anne laughing again.

She also started to draw pictures and write her letters, reminding her of how loved she was by everyone. As much as Anne was heartbroken during the time, she took the letters everywhere she went and kept every flower alive for as long as she possibly could. Anne would always tell Harry “That girl came into our lives for a reason, my love. She’s a special one, our little miracle, never let her go. You hear me?”

Harry didn’t understand what it truly meant to let someone go, but he did his best to do anything but that. And now, as Harry sits on his mother’s kitchen island and seeing Y/n for the first time in a year, he feels he’s done just that.

“Guess not.” Kendall mutters, taking her last sip of the red wine left in her glass. “She’s just so strange, I guess. I can barely hold a conversation with her without her making an excuse to leave.”

Kendall and Y/n never really got along, it was extremely noticeable to everyone who held a conversation with the both of them. They just don’t see things in the same light. Y/n is very outgoing and lively; an extreme extrovert that seeks adventure—and Kendall can’t stand it. She thinks Y/n does it for attention, especially because she’s remained a small town girl while being surrounded by well-known celebrities. And even though it may seem like Y/n likes the attention, that’s not her purpose. She gives all her attention to others, never to herself, and it has always been something Harry loved the most.

And when it comes to Y/n, Kendall was that one thing that was constantly in her way of Harry. No matter how many times Harry and Y/n discussed how there was something between them, Kendall always found her way back to haunt her. She was her worst goddamn nightmare. She was perfect for Harry in the public eye, and nothing made Y/n feel worse than knowing she’ll never be her type of perfect, especially when it came to Harry.

But Kendall doesn’t know that. All she knows is that Y/n is extremely stand-offish with her, and she’ll never understand why.

“She’s not used to our lives. It’s extremely difficult for her to understand how we live, you know? She’s normal.”

Kendall scoffs, eyes rolling around the room because she hates that word. She feels so divided, like she’s in a categorization in society and everything about it makes her teeth clench.

“We’re normal, too, you know. I don’t understand why she feels so intimated and feels like she has something to prove.”

Harry’s jaw clenches slightly at the negative connotes Kendall has about Y/n’s life. Something about it makes his stomach twist the wrong way, and he can’t help the underlying growl in between his words.

“We’re not normal. Deep down, you and I both know that. You also don’t know Y/n, so stop making irrational assumptions about her.”

Kendall narrows her eyes at Harry, a gaze full of confusion and disbelief at the undeniable grumble in his tone. Any rational conversation they have about Y/n always end the same—with Harry quick to end the discussion and jump to her defense. It’s times like these Kendall never understood the true extent of Harry and Y/n’s relationship. They always claimed it was platonic but there has always been a sense of something stronger in them, like unaddressed or unchased feelings, or a past they shared that was kept between the two.

Either way, it annoyed the shit out of Kendall because they both were hiding something that she’ll never be able to get answered.

“Fine, whatever.” She sighs dramatically, scooting her chair back until she has room to stand properly. “Want some more wine? Getting some.”

Harry slides his empty wine glass so that it’s in front of her, muttering a small “yeah, thanks” before she’s on her way to the counter across the room, retrieving extra wine and mingling with some of Harry’s family.

Harry sighs while his head rests at the palm of his hand, eyes gazing directly to where Y/n is standing. His lips tug up lightly when he hears her laugh from the living room, his tongue running over his bottom lip ever so slightly as he watches her mouth lift and her eyes squint shut as she catches up with one of his uncles about his grand annual weekend fishing trip.

And as his eyes stay so transfixed on the woman in the other room, he can’t help but imagine seeing that type of perfection every day for the rest of his life.

“And everyone thinks Sweet Creature is about me..”

Harry’s head snaps to Gemma’s figure leaning over the edge of the island, her elbows hitched on the counter as a small smirk plays on her lips. She found it abnormally amusing how he didn’t even acknowledge her presence until she spoke, too invested in hawking over Y/n’s every move.

Harry grumbles, but the smile from Y/n’s laughter is permanent on his lips when he does so. Gemma even notices his cheeks brighten with pink, another hint of confirmation to the words she spoke.

“Shut up, Gem.“

She puts her arms up defensively, “Hey, don’t take it out on me. I’m just making an observation.”

Harry rolls his eyes as Gemma wraps her arm around his neck, hunching over so that her lips are close to his ear and eyes are directed toward Y/n again.

“She has gotten hotter, hasn’t she?”

She has no idea. All Harry can think about is how someone already so beautiful has grown to be so perfect. Everything about her makes Harry want to get down on his knees and worship every inch of her body. He has to bite down on his bottom lip to stop himself from thinking how much of a wreck he wants to make out of her.

“I don’t know how she did it. You better get her while you still have the chance, I know many, many men who want a taste of her.”

No is the first thing Harry thinks when the words leave from Gemma’s mouth. As hypocritical and selfish as it is, knowing other men have shown an interest in her makes his skin crawl. And he can’t help but feel his throat tighten at the moment Y/n realizes he had brought Kendall to this party.

“Is she—“ he can’t even finish his sentence without his jaw tightening again, hindering the rest of his question from leaving his lips.

“Oh, quit your worrying, H. She’s single, I don’t think she’d ever date someone who isn’t you. Besides, I don’t think you can do much about it with Kendall here.”

Gemma lifts a finger to where Kendall is standing, still in the same spot as she talks to his aunt Leslie. His heart hurts knowing what Y/n will feel when she finds out. He knows that there is always a part of her that feels discouraged whenever there’s a new woman in his life. In between Harry and Y/n’s love for each other was a mix of false hopes and miscommunication, and it always fucked them up whenever anything else was put in their way.

Gemma pats his shoulder before making rounds to her family and friends again, leaving Harry slumped against the counter with not a drop of wine to numb his scrambling mind.

When Y/n finishes catching up with the rest of Harry’s family, she finds that her patience is wearing thin. It’s been a year since she’s seen the love of her life, and knowing that he’s somewhere near her is enough to get her heart racing.

When she sees him sitting alone at the kitchen island, wearing his infamous pink suit and staring down at his fingers, it’s as if her body starts to malfunction. Her legs stop moving and her lips part, eyes glistening with admiration as she sees him for the first time in so long.

He’s as beautiful as ever, his new haircut accentuating his facial structure. His lips seem so much more red, too, which are complimented greatly by that goddamn suit. Everything about him radiates, like he’s developed into a whole other person. She’ll never quite grasp the idea that she’s about to reunite with him; something about it makes her palms sweat.

“Hey, stranger.”

Harry lifts his head up to look at her in all her glory. His heart warms at her presence more than the wine did, and he can’t help but to take a breath of relief when he finally hears her voice again.

“Y/n.” He breathes out, his fingers instinctively reaching up to the ends of her cut hair.

He chokes out a laugh of admiration when he sees her this close to him. She is so much different—so much more perfect than he ever remembers her being and it takes his breath away.

His fingers twist her hair, wrapping them around the digits before letting the strands fall back in place again. He never saw her without her hair down to her waist, and now that he has, he never wants to see her hair past her shoulders again.

“It’s so beautiful” he whispers, “you look so beautiful like this, Y/n. I absolutely love it.”

She blushes, her chin tucking slightly into her neck as if trying to hide how much of a reaction he got out of her. No matter how many years she’s known him, she was never used to the way he spoke to her.

“It was spontaneous. Really wanted a change, and it looks like I’m not the only one.”

Her hands reach to his hair, which is so much shorter compared to the last time she saw him. She remembered she couldn’t keep her hands out of it last year, constantly finding ways to tangle her fingers at the ends. Harry found it hysterical, actually, and thought it was the cutest thing she’s ever done.

“It’s just so soft” she’d say, “it’s like a whole other world in there!”

But now her only option is to tangle her fingers at the roots, and as she does so, her mind drifts to all the other occasions she could have her hands in his hair again.

“It’s so much shorter. Look at that! I can barely tug on it anymore!” She laughs in amusement, her fingers slipping as she pulls too hard.

He smirks up at her, a giggle falling from his lips as he watches her utterly amused reaction. They begin to catch up with the part of their lives they both have missed. Harry talked about his album while Y/n started discussing her new journalism job.

Talking to Y/n is one of the only normal parts of him left, it always gave him a sense of grounding whenever he felt his career was taking off to heights he wasn’t ready for. She is one of the only sense of normality he has left in his life, and it’s another reason as to why he admires her so dearly. She brought out parts of him nobody else could reach, and it’s another reason why he feels so upset he’s barely talked to her.

“Y/n?” he asks hesitantly, reaching his hand over so that his fingertips graze her hand.

Her breath breaks when he touches her, the softness in his voice proving that what is about to be discussed is far more important than their previous conversation. She notices the stress lines in between his forehead and the parting of his wine stained lips when he begins to speak. 

“I’m so sorry I haven’t kept in touch with you. I know how it makes me look, especially after everything that happened between us. With the new album and everything, I’ve just been so busy with—“

“Kendall?”

Harry’s head jumps to where Y/n stares dumbfounded, Kendall holding two glasses of wine in one hand while the other is carrying a plate of chicken wings. She’s looking down at Y/n, too, her eyebrows lifted up in an intimidating manner. There’s a scowl present on her lips as she continues to tower over her.

Y/n feels tears building in her eyes as she takes in the situation at hand. She was so fucking dumb to think that Harry was going to come to Anne’s party alone, especially since his new album just released. This is Kendall’s prime time appearance, when Harry needs a familiar famous face beside him to advertise his solo career.

This isn’t anything new—this isn’t anything unfamiliar, but the pain feels like a fresh wound to her heart. Harry and Y/n are nearly 24, with having known each other and felt something for each other for years, she thought that if anything were going to happen, it was going to happen now. But everything between them has remained stagnant for so long that the last sliver of hope she had for their potential relationship has been completely taken away from her. By Kendall, again.

“W—Wow, I’m sorry. I didn’t—I didn’t know Harry had invited you.”

“Yeah,” Kendall nods, “he invited me last night.”

Last night.

Y/n’s lips purse together, nodding her head as her eyes drift around the kitchen. Anything to avoid Kendall’s eyes—anything to feel as unimportant as she does now.

Harry’s eyes squeeze shut, a small hissing releasing from his tongue at how wrong it all sounds, considering absolutely nothing happened between Harry and Kendall the previous night besides being demanded that the two of them are to be seen together again.

“Right,” Y/n’s voice cracks, “well, I’m sorry to interrupt your time together. I’m going to go to Gemma’s room, got a phone call from my dad a while ago so I should go check up on him. I’ll see you guys around.”

She musters up a pathetic smile before practically running away from them. After everything they both told each other, after all the feelings they’ve had toward each other, how could Harry keep doing this to her? How could he keep being with Kendall when he says he loves Y/n?

She doesn’t even find the strength in her to hold in her tears before she approaches the steps, not daring to look back at them again. She never wants to see them in the same room again, it’ll be too much her heart can handle. 

“You’ve really got to be fucking kidding me, Kendall.” Harry growls.

His hands fist around the wine glass, his knuckles turning white and he’s absolutely shocked it hasn’t shattered into pieces in his hands from all the anger pulsing through his veins.

Jesus, Harry, neither one of you can take a joke. Does she not understand that all of this is for the press? She keeps acting like we’re a couple.”

“Could you really blame her after that? ‘He invited me last night,’ you’re really getting a kick out of making her uncomfortable, aren’t you?”

He grumbles as he takes a long sip of his wine, hoping that the alcohol loosens his muscles enough to restrain himself from doing anything he regrets. He loves his mum too much to start an argument during her birthday party, and as much as Kendall’s shifting Harry’s mood, he still appreciates her as a friend to ruin anything.

“That wasn’t even my fault, you both dug into that way too deep. Last night does not mean while we were fucking. It’s a time of day.”

“It’s the way you said it.”

“Are you being serious, Harry?”

He slams his glass down on the island, grumbling under his breath while he stands up from his chair. No matter how much anger is in him now, the only thoughts swirling in his brain are wondering if Y/n’s okay. She would have never left the party to go into a secluded room, not even if her dad called her.

“You leave her the fuck alone, Kendall. I mean it.”

He storms away from her, desperate to find Y/n because God only knows what’s really happening in that bedroom. Y/n’s emotions and feelings are always positive, always so bright, and he refuses to be the reason they turn upside down. She doesn’t deserve all he keeps doing to her, she doesn’t deserve him.

When Harry nearly swings himself onto the first step, he can already hear the soft murmur of Y/n’s and Anne’s voice, which makes him stop from approaching them any more than he has already.

“Y/n? Y/n, darling?” Anne asks with worry when she sees Y/n climbing up the top step with tears in her eyes, soft cries falling from her throat as her hand attempts to silence them.

She reaches an arm out for her, tugging at the front of Y/n’s dress slightly to get her attention. She’s grateful it was Anne who found her this way instead of any other guest at the party, considering nobody besides her and Harry have seen her with a frown on her face.

“Y/n, baby, what’s going on with you?”

The lights are off in the hallway, with no guests permitted in the area, which gives Y/n the proper time to fully allow her tears to fall down her cheeks.

“I’m so s—sorry, Anne.” Y/n cries.

Anne’s hands rub her shoulders, reassuring her that there’s absolutely nothing for her to apologize for. It also lets her know that she’s willing to listen to her, no matter where or when—she’ll always be there.

“I’m almost 24, Anne, and I’ve put so much of my life on hold for him.”

She knows instantly who Y/n’s talking about. It wasn’t difficult to notice the undying connection between Y/n and her son, especially as the years went on. They have grown so strongly together, there has never been a doubt in Anne’s mind that Y/n is going to be the girl Harry ends up marrying. Everyone in the family called it a destiny waiting to happen, but it has been so long since anything has happened between them, and Anne can’t help but feel heartbroken to know Y/n’s carrying the wrong idea about him and Kendall.

“And I’ve sacrificed so m—much to continue waiting for him, but I don’t think I can keep doing this anymore. We’re nowhere near where we should be, especially when he keeps spending time with Kendall and I just—I just don’t know if I can—“

“Oh, my darling.” Anne sighs, cradling Y/n’s head against her shoulder as she rubs down her back.

She shushes her through her tears, rocking her slightly in an attempt to calm her from her cries. It’s extremely rare for Y/n to feel upset, so when she does so, Anne knows she deserves all the comfort and love she can get.

“I know you so well, and I know my son. I always knew you were a match made in heaven, my dear. I knew from the start you were more than just an ordinary girl. You’re so special, to everyone in our family, but especially to him. He may not have his head screwed on right most of the time, but if I can promise you anything with all my heart, it’s that he loves you. Please, no matter what, never forget that.”

Y/n nods against her shoulder, thanking her through her violent cries before Anne insists she takes some time to herself. And as much as Y/n wanted to refrain from going into Harry’s bedroom, it’ll be the only place that brings her a sense of comfort.

Harry already knows he’s in for a lecture the second he sees his mum coming down the stairs with bewildered eyes. She grips his shoulders, her face tight with frustration.

“Mum—“

“You go over to her and you be the man I taught you to be, Harry.”

Harry’s eyes widen at her words, swallowing thickly at the thought of disappointing another person in his life.

“She loves you and you love her. Stop doing favors for other people and start thinking about you before you ruin both of your lives forever. You hear me?”

Harry nods feverishly, determined and more motivated than ever to fix all that he’s caused. Love comes first, always, and he needs to remember that before he breaks Y/n’s heart completely.

She’s it. She’s all that matters to him.

He barely responds to Anne before he’s racing to his old bedroom, completely clueless as to what he’s going to say, but willing to do anything to get her back.

“Y/n?” Harry calls through the door of his old bedroom. “Y/n, can I come in?” 

He knocks on the door lightly, just using the knuckles of his pointer and middle finger. He hears her feet pad over to the door, opening it to reveal her tear stained cheeks. Her hands are trembling against the knob, her breath broken with soft, gentle cries. Her eyes are widened with sadness, wet and red from tears she barely ever cries.

“Y/n.” He whimpers, tentatively reaching his shaking fingers up to her cheeks. He wipes away the tears from the bottoms of her eyes, sighing upsettingly as her eyes close at his touch. “Never seen you like this. Please talk to me.”

Her lips quiver as another sob rips through her, her hand reaching up to capture his between her fingers. Her saddened and wet eyes looking down at the intertwined hands now resting against her lap.

“I’m so tired, H.” She whimpers, “So tired.”

His lips press against her forehead, “I know, love. I know.”

She wraps her arms around him, her face burying in between his chest as he lets her tears soak in his undershirt.

“I couldn’t take it anymore. I thought I’d finally be alone with you after all this time. I missed being close to you, I wanted to be closer to you and I thought you felt the same about me and I didn’t understand, Harry, I didn’t get it and—“


“Hey, relax for me.” Harry mumbles, his lips grazing tenderly along her cheek.

She takes a deep breath, her fingers fisting the back of his suit tighter in her fists. She rests her chin on the top of his chest, tears still roaming down her face as she lets out an exasperated sigh. Her fingertips trace patterns on his back, her eyes fluttering closed as he pushes some of her hair off of her face, refraining them from sticking to her wet cheeks.

“I didn’t get it,” she whispers, “I was so confused, and when you didn’t answer my calls or texts I thought you didn’t find me important. And I was under no right to be upset about it, because you’re busy and you have priorities. But when I saw you today, I didn’t see you as the Harry I always have, I still can’t tell you what I saw but I wanted every part of you more than I ever have before. But when I saw Kendall I—“

Her cries and words die down when she feels Harry’s tender lips against hers. She’s taken aback at first, and before she has any time to really kiss him back, he’s already pulled away.

“Let me fix this.” He breathes out, “let show you that I only want you.”

His lips press against the side of her mouth, not allowing himself to kiss her the way he wants to until she lets him. They then begin to travel down her neck, along her jaw, around her mouth.

Y/n’s breath is stiff as he does so, embracing the feeling of his mouth against her skin. They’ve only ever kissed a handful of times, none of them being passionate or loving. They’ve shared pecks while saying goodbyes or after confessing their feelings, but none quite like this—none quite like the one anticipating to happen.

His breathing his hard when he continues to kiss along her skin, his fingers moving longly in her hair the more his mouth presses against her.

“Will you let me?” He whispers when his lips are ghosting over hers, “this okay?”

She nods feverishly, hitting the point of desperation when she feels his breath fan over the skin of her face. She’s been needing this for far too long now.

“Yes, please.

His thumb runs over her bottom lip one, two, three times before he finally leans in. Their lips mush together passionately, only breaking apart to move their position before locking again. Their tongues meet in the middle, making the both of them moan at the unfamiliar spark coursing through their veins.

Harry walks toward his bed until Y/n’s knees hit the edge of it, making her back meet the mattress. Their lips haven’t detached once, not daring to break away from the feeling they’ve both been deprived of.

They’re both making out on Harry’s childhood bed, grinding onto each other half naked like two hormonal teenagers. Their clothes thrown across the room, lips swollen from all the suction and nibbling, and hair completely knotted from either of their fingertips, the party below them long forgotten.

“Wait, wait wait wait!” Y/n gasps, lifting herself off of his chest.

Harry’s chest rises and falls rapidly, trying to catch his breath as he looks up at Y/n in confusion. He watches as a smirk lifts from her lips as she peers down at his flushed face, giggling slightly at his complete fucked out appearance.

She notices that his lips remained stained from the red wine—a little faded—but still making her body weak at the sight of it.

“’s the matter?” He croaks.

His voice is thick—an entirely different level of raspy, and Y/n wonders how she’s lived so long without hearing him speak in that way. Between all the kissing, all the touching, all the moaning, his voice has a particular roughness to it that Y/n could feed off of if she had to.

“We shouldn’t do this, right? I mean, we’re about to fuck during your mum’s birthday party. Your entire family and Kendall are downstairs, anybody could walk in at any second, or hear us, and your mum could find that so disrespectful and—“

Her rambling is interrupted by his lips, meeting hers passionately between her words.

There is no way in hell he’s leaving this room tonight. Everything that’s been stagnant between them is finally moving in the right direction, and he can’t find it anywhere in him to walk away from it.

“You think I’m letting you go now?” He whispers, his thumb running along her bottom lip. “I have been waiting for this moment with you since high school, sweetheart.”

His lips reattach to her neck, sucking on spots he hasn’t already left marks on, soaking up every bit of the time he has with her before it’s over. This is the first time they’re going to make love, and he wants to feel and remember every bit of this moment.

“B—But your mum—“ She moans, her fingers nearly tangling at the ends of his hair as she hisses in pleasure from his tongue.

“Every single person downstairs knows about us. This—this happening right now, has been expected to happen since I first brought you home. I guarantee you, nothing will make her more happy than knowing her son and his future wife are finally acting on our feelings instead of pushing them to the side again.”

His words make Y/n blush like no other; her cheeks turning the shade of pink on her dress she wore previously. It’s then he notices just hot fucking pretty she is in pink, how every tint of the color compliments her in ways he can barely wrap his head around.

“Future wife, hm?” She smirks, tapping the pads of her fingers against his bare collarbones.

He kisses her again.

“Thought you knew that, love. Wouldn’t know a single soul I’d rather spend the rest of my life with.” His fingers dig into her hips, “’s always been you.“

Y/n pushes Harry’s back against the mattress again, trailing her fingers down his torso. She giggles when his teeth clench at her touch, finding it almost irresistible to embrace the way he responds to her touch so easily.

“Trust me, I always knew.”

Things to add to your bucket list:

Travel:

  • See The Northern Lights 
  • See A Solar Eclipse 
  • See A Waterfall 
  • See Cherry Blossoms in Japan 
  • See The 7 Wonders of The World 
  • See The Mona Lisa, at the Louvre in Paris 
  • See Da Vinci’s Notebooks, Victoria and Albert Museum 
  • Spend New Year’s Eve in Times Square 
  • Spend a day at Central Park, New York 
  • Spend Mardi Gras in New Orleans 
  • Spend La Tomatina in Spain 
  • Spend Dia De Los Muertos in Mexico 
  • Use a Cable Car In San Francisco 
  • Visit Anne Frank’s House 
  • Visit Large Hadron Collider 
  • Walk Along the Great Wall of China 
  • Push A Stone at Stonehenge 
  • Wear an Authentic Kimono in Japan 
  • Make A Guard Laugh at Buckingham Palace 
  • Go to an Olympic Game 
  • Travel All Around the World 
  • Stand at The Equator 
  • Backpack Across at Least 10 Locations 
  • Pack Your Bags and Set Off for A Random Location 
  • Live in A Different Country for at Least 6 Months 
  • Set Foot in All the Continents 
  • See A TED Talk Live 
  • Comic Con or Who Con – Any Con 
  • Tee in The Park 
  • Coachella 
  • Go On a Safari 

Achieve Something

  • Achieve My Ideal Weight 
  • Publish A Book 
  • Get Featured in The Media for Something You Are Proud Of 
  • Start A Movement On a Cause You Believe In 
  • Get A Standing Ovation 
  • Get A Street Named After Me 
  • Give £10,000 To Charity 
  • Create A Famous Quote 
  • Start A Phenomenon 
  • Start A Petition 
  • Prove A Theory 
  • Become an Ordained Minister 

People

  • Be A Matchmaker 
  • Contact A Company  Just to Thank Them 
  • Fold 1,000 Origami Cranes and Give Them to Someone Special 
  • Pie Someone in The Face 
  • Personally Know Someone Famous 
  • Do Volunteer Work 
  • Be A Mentor to Someone 
  • Make A Difference in Someone’s Life 
  • Teach Someone Illiterate to Read 
  • Give A Heartfelt Surprise to Someone 
  • Perform A Kind Deed Without Expecting Anything in Return 
  • Meet A Good Street Performer 
  • Shake Hands with PM and President 
  • Meet Someone You Can Only Dream of Meeting 
  • Collect Autographs from All My Favourite People 
  • Donate Blood and Meet Who It Got Donated To 
  • Get A Pen Pal 
  • Write 365 Letters to Someone 
  • Write Letters to 5 People Who Positively Influenced You 
  • Leave £100 Tip for a waiter/waitress 
  • Befriend A Stranger 
  • Get A Drink for A Stranger 
  • High Five a Stranger 
  • Take A Picture with A Stranger 
  • Give Free Hugs on a side-walk 
  • Hold Sign Saying ‘Talk to Me About Anything’ On A Busy Street 
  • Order Pizza and Send It to A Random House with Note 

Something for Me

  • Get A Pet 
  • Get A Complete Makeover 
  • Decorate My Room – Paint A Cool Landscape 
  • Fly First Class 
  • Get My Portrait Painted 
  • Legitimately Play a Song On Any Musical Instrument 
  • Get A Signed Copy of a Book I Love 
  • Dye My Hair an Unnatural Colour – Purple/Blue 
  • Get The Restaurant Staff Sing for my birthday 
  • Get A Mani/Pedi 
  • Have A Spa Day 
  • Receive A Postcard from All Countries from Post Crossing 
  • Get A Star Named After Me 
  • Get Picked Up at The Airport by Someone with A Sign 
  • Authentic Chuck Taylors 

Learn Something New

  • Learn A New Language 
  • Learn Morse Code 
  • Learn to Say Hello in 26 Languages 
  • Learn Sign Language 

Try Something New

  • Try A Profession in A Different Field 
  • Try Every Single Ben and Jerry’s Flavour 
  • Try to Be Vegan for A Week 

Once in a Lifetime

  • Fly in A Hot-Air Balloon 
  • Do Public Speaking 
  • Act in A Film - Big or Small 
  • Be an Extra in a Big Film 
  • Crowd Surf 
  • Indoor Skydiving 
  • Wash an Elephant 
  • Ride A Rollercoaster 
  • Be On a Big Screen 

Participate in/Organize  Something

  • Run A Marathon 
  • Volunteer at A Hospice 
  • Go in A Corn Maze 
  • Join A Book Club 
  • High School Reunion 
  • Participate in Holi Festival 
  • Attend A Jewish Wedding 
  • Attend A Christian Wedding 
  • Attend A Hindi Wedding 
  • Attend A Sikh Wedding 
  • Attend A Muslim Wedding 
  • Attend An Atheist Wedding
  • Attend Any Wedding … 
  • Attend A Random Wedding as a Stranger 
  • Treasure Hunt 
  • Scavenger Hunt 
  • Masquerade Ball 
  • Murder Mystery Dinner 
  • Organise A Picnic Outing 
  • Organise A Barbeque 
  • Organize a Block Party 
  • Throw A Mega Party       
  • Put On a Fundraiser 
  • Foam Party 
  • Zombie Walk 
  • National Novel Writing Month 
  • MONOPOLY – actually complete it 

Something Sentimental

  • Walk/Dance Barefoot in The Rain 
  • Experience A Sunrise 
  • Experience A Sunset 
  • Go Stargazing 
  • Plant A Tree and Watch It Grow 
  • Go Camping 
  • Road Trip 
  • Fly A Kite 
  • Fall Asleep On Grassy Plains 
  • Ultimate Water Fight 
  • Message in A Bottle 
  • Sleep Under the Stars 
  • Make A Cool Snowman 
  • MOVIE MARATHON 
  • All Day with No Technology 
  • Water gun and Water Balloon Fight 
  • Bonfire and S’mores 
  • Blanket and Sofa Fort 
  • Catch Fireflies 
  • Collect Seashells 
  • Messy Twister 
  • Let A Floating Lantern Go 
  • Belong in A Secret Society 
  • Collect A Penny Made in Every Year I’ve Been Alive
  • Food Fight 
  • Leave A Note in A Library Book 
  • Leave A Note On A Car Window 
  • Leave A Shoe at A Ball 
  • Release A Chinese Lantern 
  • Use A Fake Name at Starbucks 
  • Pretend to Be a Window Mannequin 
  • Pull A Fire Alarm 
  • Pull an All Nighter 
  • Put A Pair of My Shoes On a Shoe Tree 

Places to go / Things To See

  • Ballet 
  • Beach 
  • Castle 
  • Concert 
  • Drive-in Movie 
  • Factory 
  • Haunted Place 
  • Laser Quest 
  • Museum 
  • Music Festival 
  • Paintballing 
  • Theatre 
  • Zip line 

Make Something

  • Knit A Scarf 
  • Build A Treehouse 
  • Write A Children’s Book 
  • Start A Vlog 
  • Make A Rubber Band Ball 
  • Start A Scrapbook 
  • Do A 365 Day Photo Project 
  • Wreck-This Journal 
  • Make A Bracelet 
  • Bake Something 
In This Light (Part 1)

Summary: Model!Bucky AU with Photographer!Reader. This is your meeting with Bucky, and how your friendship developed into something more.

Pairings: Bucky x Reader (main); Steve x Reader (side)

Word Count: 4,658

Warnings: None.

A/N: This is a re-write of  Dean fic series I never finished. Here’s hoping that I will have motivation to finish this storyline with Buckaroo. Hope you all enjoy! Also, I don’t claim to know how the photography/fashion world works, I’m just… Sorry if there are mistakes. 


“Alright, children, enough chattering!” A large woman with bushy blonde hair and overdone makeup stared down at her sixth-grade Earth and Space science class. She was frowning and it was only the first day of classes. She was already feeling the headache that was sure to make itself known by the end of the week. “Settle down!” she bellowed.

At her shrill voice, silence overcame the room and everyone found empty seats to call their own. She gave them all a wide, forced smile in gratitude. “Welcome to Earth and Space Science! I am Mrs. Paulson and I will not tolerate any unruly conduct in my class. You will be wise to be on your best behavior while you’re in my class. If you aren’t, a detention slip with your name on it will be waiting for you by the end of class. Do I make myself clear?”

A drone of agreements reached her ears and she gave a grin of satisfaction. Some kids thought her wolf-like. She clapped her hands once before picking up a stack of papers, licking her forefinger to separate the sheets. Oblivious to the grimaces of her students as she handed them their syllabus, her voice thundered through the room. “Learn it, live it, love it. I will always abide by the schedule you find there and everything that will be required of you is written on that very sheet. Is that understood? There are no excuses!”

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Billboard: Niall Horan Braces for Stardom Outside One Direction, With Advice From Justin Bieber & The Eagles

When Niall Horan decided to move from London to Los Angeles in early 2016, it’s no surprise that he chose a house in Laurel Canyon, the epicenter of ’60s folk-rock culture. Horan was the one ­toting a guitar in One Direction, the British boy-band juggernaut that was just then going on a hiatus, and he’s got the soul of a singer-songwriter: He’s charismatic, witty and sensitive, but also easygoing and no-nonsense. Viewed alongside his bandmates – born rock star Harry Styles, “sensible one” Liam Payne, “funny one” Louis Tomlinson, moody R&B prince Zayn Malik – Horan, 23, is sort of like the middle brother: the most ­approachably handsome, the second-most popular across social media (29 million Twitter followers; 19 million on Instagram) and the most likely to lust after a gig at the historic Los Angeles rock club The Troubadour. “Playing for, like, 500 people. What more do you want?” says Horan. “I’ve had some good moments with screaming ­teenagers, but I like when the room is completely dead. It’s a ­different kind of respect. People are actually listening.”

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A Scarecrow For God

by reddit user survivalprocedure

“Can I take your picture?” Larissa sat a few feet away from me on the grey velvet sofa as I aimed my iPhone towards her. I stared at the screen intently for a moment before shifting my focus, looking over the brim of the phone at her defeated, hopeless state portrayed by bloodshot eyes.

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share my heart

A/N: i was forced at gunpoint tonight to write a s4 drabble about bellarke realizing how the other feels about them. Rated T. WC: 1455.


It’s quiet.

Somehow, quiet is always around Bellamy. It’s like he wears it on his shoulders, along with all the pain and hurt and guilt. She doesn’t know if he’s even aware he projects it. All she knows is when she’s sitting with him like she is tonight, sorting meat packages into piles for storage for Alpha Station’s five years weathering out the storm, everything just feels calmer.

“Pass me the checklist,” Bellamy rumbles, nudging her hand with his. It’s the first thing either of them have said for the past half hour.

She obliges, and he squints at it.

“We’ve got to sort those.” He points. Clarke glances around. “Into different kinds of meat. We forgot to do that.”

“Then we have to do it again,” she exhales, and rakes a hand through her hair, nails digging into her own scalp. That will take another twenty minutes at least. Heavy frustration washes over her in a wave. There’s too much to do. Too many small details to iron out. “There’s not enough time.”

She hears him taking a deep breath— it’s no secret that they’re both counting down the minutes. But when he speaks, his voice is even. “There’ll be plenty of time soon enough. Five years, to be exact.”

She looks up, finds him watching her, dark eyes unreadable, and nods, her throat still feeling tight.

They resume sorting, but this time, it’s his shoulders that are drawn tight, and Clarke feels terrible right then for reminding him how little time they had, as if he weren’t already thinking about it every moment of the day. She scrambles for something to say to distract him. “What do you think you’ll do?”

Bellamy looks up, quirks up a brow.

She clarifies. “What do you think you’ll do with those five years?”

Keep reading

Sweet Creature

Words: 7,500

Warnings: Smut

Harry sighed as he peered into the kitchen from his spot by the staircase in the living room. He’d like to be next to Y/N and Gemma right now, but his neighbor had whisked him off into a conversation about gardening that he truly had no interest. Nevertheless, Harry was polite, so he stood patiently and nodded and “mhmm”ed at the appropriate moments. He couldn’t help but let out a wistful sigh as he saw his sister and best friend slip out into the backyard.

As much as he appreciated Anne throwing a party in celebration of his first solo concert, he silently wished he had just gotten a private day in his hometown. Harry knew his friends and family were proud of him. But he was nothing if not humble and a little bit selfish. He so rarely got time at home to see Y/N, and he wished he could actually spend a moment with her now instead of playing host to what felt like the whole village. He’d much rather have been relaxing on the couch watching a rom-com with the girl he could never get enough of.

Just then, his mother swooped in to rescue him with a bright smile and gentle hand on his arm. “Sweetie, would you mind bringing the rest of the chicken out to Robin to grill? And maybe bring him a beer?”

He nodded much too fast for someone being asked to do chores. “Sure, mum.” He kissed her cheek and smiled brightly at their slightly disgruntled neighbor. “Sorry, mate. Talk to you later, yeah?”  

Harry wove his way through the crowd in the house to get to the kitchen. After slamming the refrigerator door shut with his hip, two beers clutched in one hand, he snatched up the last tray of chicken from its spot on the stove. He thanked Barbara from the bakery for opening the door to the back garden for him and offered her a cheeky smile she saw more than nearly anyone else.

Robin stood at the grill next to the deck, laughing and listening to the conversation going on in the chairs nearby. He saw Harry exit the door from the house and quickly waved him over.

“Having fun?” he asked, taking the tray of chicken and leaving Harry’s other hand open to start popping caps on the beer bottles.

Harry shook his head a little and snorted.  “You know how it is. Lots of small talk and cheek squishing.”

“And not getting to see Y/N,” Robin replied knowingly. He chuckled as Harry rolled his eyes before taking a pull from his beer.

“How has she been? I haven’t really talked to her much yet.”

“She’s lovely as always. I think her dad is having a bit of a hard time. You know the 15th anniversary of her mum’s passing is next week. She’s stayed with us the last couple of nights.”

Harry couldn’t help but frown. Y/N’s mum had died of cancer when she was only seven. Her father had been a dear friend of his mother’s, so they’d taken Y/N in when it happened. Her father hadn’t wanted her to see her mother like that, nor did he think he could properly care for her. Harry and Y/N had always been friends, but those four months that she lived with them had given them a bond no one could ever replace. They’d been absolutely attached at the hip their whole lives. To this day, the guest room at the Styles/Twist household was mostly considered Y/N’s and held some of her pictures and personal belongings. She’d long been a member of their family.  “She’s coping okay, right?”

“Why don’t you ask her yourself, nosy?”

One of his only regrets about participating in X Factor and leaving home so young was that he felt like he had abandoned Y/N. She had come to visit him in LA and London a few times and had even joined him on tour, but she always felt obligated to return to Holmes Chapel to make sure her father was cared for. Though they were best friends, they often went months without talking because Harry was just too busy. He hated himself for that.

“Harry! Come sit a mo’ and have a chat?”

He turned to see his cousin Charlotte gesturing to the chair next to her. Robin’s clap to his back was taken as a dismissal as he made his way over.

“Hey there, rockstar. How ya doing?”

Harry settled in the chair and grinned. “Good, good. ‘N you?”

“Wonderful! Kyle just started his new job, so we’ve got a good income now. Not that you’d know anything about that,” she joked and leaned over to playfully nudge his shoulder.

Harry was sure his smile looked more like a grimace. While he may not have been hurting for money, there had certainly been a time when he would skip dinner just to save his mum a little money. He knew as much as anyone how hard it could be.

“Robin! Anne wants to know what’s taking so long with those birds!” Harry perked up at the sound of Y/N’s sweet voice washing over him like a lullaby. He quickly turned to see her leaning out the back door with a bright grin.

“Can’t rush these things, Y/N. At least gotta buy ‘em a drink first, love,” Robin joked. The crowd around him laughed along with Y/N.

“Right, I’ll be sure to tell your wife that!” Her gaze shifted to Harry and she smiled softly at him. He tried to wave her over, but she held up a finger in a “hold on” motion and disappeared back into the house.

“So what is Kyle doing, then?” He continued to make small talk with his cousin Charlotte as Gemma reappeared and took up the last chair on the deck right next to him.

Y/N returned about five minutes later carrying a bowl that Harry quickly determined was filled with fruit.  She stood by him and held the bowl down to offer him a piece, but he shook his head. “Come sit,” he told her instead.

She rolled her eyes at him. “There aren’t anymore chairs, H.”

Just as her hand holding the bowl of fruit started to retreat from him, he quickly grasped around her wrist and tugged her forward. When she stumbled just as he knew she would, he took a firm but gentle grasp of her hips and settled them down on his legs.

“Harry!” she scolded, knowing he’d made a scene. While Harry tended to thrive under the public eye, Y/N often did her best to hide from it. That was the primary reason Harry loved to take the piss out of her. Nevertheless, she shifted back to a more comfortable position on his lap and sat a bit sideways so she could hear the conversations going on. Harry wrapped one arm around her, resting his hand on her opposite thigh to keep her securely in place while the hand nursing a beer rested itself against her knee. He couldn’t help but chuckle as she flinched at the cold bottle just barely touching her skin. She finally went back to eating her assortment of pineapples, strawberries, and grapes as she listened to Charlotte.

“He’s just started work at the pub down the road from our house. The pay isn’t that great, but he’s been making loads in tips,” she finished.

“Where is Kyle, anyway?  I haven’t seen him yet, I don’t think.” Y/N was considered a member of the extended family and had attended every family event for the last 15 years. Since she had stayed in Holmes Chapel, Harry figured she probably knew more about his family these days than he did.

“Oh he’s off on a lad’s weekend in Bristol. His mate is getting married next week.”

“Oh good, that means he’ll be all freed up for when Harry and Y/N over here get married soon,” Gemma teased.

“Gem!” Y/N exclaimed. Harry noticed that her cheeks flushed to a pink very similar to the bath water on his album cover.

He just chuckled and gave her a little squeeze.

“Just saying! You two have that whole agreement anyway where if you’re still single at 28 you’re gonna get married. I hate to say it, Y/N, but you two aren’t getting any younger.  Plus you’re like in love anyway. It’s inevitable,” Gemma defended. She seemed unfazed by Y/N’s embarrassment.  

“Ooh, that just reminded me! Harry, you just have to tell me about that girl you wrote ‘Carolina’ about! That’s far and away my favorite song on the album, and I need to hear more about my future cousin in law!”  Charlotte gushed, looking at Harry with excitement in her eyes.

Harry didn’t miss how Y/N tensed at the mention of the song that he knew she for some reason despised. He hated to admit that it hurt him a little bit. He was proud of “Carolina”, and though he knew his opinion of his artistry was the one that truly counted, he didn’t like the thought of Y/N not liking one of his songs.  His hand slipped from her thigh and rested on the arm of his chair. “Oh, I don’t think she’s your future cousin in law.  Just a girl I met in paradise.”

Y/N quickly scarfed down the few remaining pieces of fruit in her bowl. “Think I’m gonna bring this back inside.   I’ll catch up with you later,” she told him quietly. She didn’t bother to look at him as she stood from her seat on his lap and retreated back into the house.

Gemma couldn’t help but sigh as she watched the exchange unfold. The two of them were too oblivious of the others’ feelings for their own good and were absolutely horrid at communication.

Robin finally finished the last batch of chicken and called everyone inside to make plates of food. If Harry thought the inside of the house had been busy before, it was nothing compared to when all the people that had been outside also made their way in for food. There was hardly room in the house to walk, much less find anyone.  Luckily, Harry was tall enough to see over the majority of the crowd, and he found Y/N sitting next to his mum as they split a plate of food.  

After he’d had his fill, Harry stood off to the side and leaned against the wall as he observed everyone around him. He finally had a moment alone as it seemed that everyone was too busy chewing to make conversation.  

He wasn’t alone for long, however, and he stood up straighter as soon as he saw Y/N making her way over to him.  She didn’t look particularly happy, but he put that down to her current family affairs. Though she tried to not let it show, Harry knew how much the loss of her mother affected her.

When Y/N finally reached him, she wrapped her arms tightly around  his waist and rested her cheek upon his chest.  He was much taller and could tuck her head snugly under his chin as he returned her embrace. “Missed you,” he heard her mumble.

Pushing his upset feelings about her distaste for his song aside, he squeezed her tighter and pressed a kiss to her hair. “Missed yeh, too, love.” His hands took to rubbing her back comfortingly as they stood in their embrace. He knew how much Y/N having her back rubbed soothed her. “Yeh look pretty today.”

Her hair had been curled prettily, her lashes long and full with the help of the mascara she had applied to them. Her outfit had been kept simple with a pink sweater over her flowy white tank that she had paired with jeans and flats. She didn’t try as hard as most did to look pretty, but Harry always thought she was the most beautiful girl in the room.

A rosy blush painted her cheeks as she pulled a little to look at him. “Thank you, bubs. You’re looking mighty handsome today, as well.”

Harry couldn’t help but smile at the nickname. It was the one she had given him when she was six and he was seven, and to this day he’d never heard her use it on anyone else. “Thank ya, love.”

“Harry!” they heard Robin call, and Harry chuckled as Y/N whined quietly and squeezed a little tighter around his waist. “Can you come help me clean the grill real quick?”

Harry left one last parting peck to her forehead before releasing his grip on her and moving out of her arms.  He followed his step dad into the back garden to provide assistance.

“I think now that everyone has full stomachs, they might be heading out soon. Hopefully we won’t have all these stragglers on our hands late tonight,” Robin commented as they went to work scrubbing the burnt bits from the grate.

Harry huffed in response. “Better not. I’d quite like a relaxing night in to be honest.”

Robin nodded. “I know you would, kiddo. You’ll get it, I’m sure.”

All in all, cleaning the grill only took about ten minutes. While they were outside, the two men wandered the yard holding trash bags to pick up garbage that had been left around to minimize the cleaning later. Finally, Anne called Harry in to start saying goodbye to guests as they began to depart just like Robin suspected they would.

When Harry made his way into the house, he saw that Y/N and Gemma had started to pick up the kitchen much as he and Robin had been cleaning the back garden. He saw them occasionally reach for their respective glasses of wine as they put food in containers and cleaned dishes.

Harry continued to play host and made small talk with the guests as they all gave him their closing remarks and good luck wishes. He thanked each of them sincerely and made sure to give an anecdote about their lives as well. Finally, after what felt like hours of talking, hugs, and handshakes, he collapsed onto the couch with the opening titles of The Notebook playing on the telly.

One by one, the family settled in with him. Robin took his usual recliner spot, and Gemma curled up with Dotty and a blanket on the love seat. Harry could hear Y/N fussing with Anne over helping to clean the kitchen.

“Y/N, I will not take ‘no’ for an answer. You go relax a bit. You’ve been picking up after people all day,” he heard his mother scolding and Y/N’s response in the form of an exasperated huff.

“We’ll get it done faster if I help you, Anne. You deserve to relax, too.”

“And I will as soon as I finish this. Now, shoo. Go be lazy for a tick.”

Y/N was still grumbling quietly to herself as she reached the living room and collapsed in a heap next to Harry on the couch. She automatically leaned her head against his arm, wrapping her own around his waist and craning her neck to see the move on the screen.

Harry chuckled. “You’re a snuggly little thing today. Budge up for a sec, love.”

Y/N groaned but lifted back off of him. He didn’t say anything as he moved a throw pillow to rest against the arm of the couch before swinging his legs up to the side and sprawling out across the length of it. With Y/N trapped between him and the back of the couch, she had nowhere to go but to rest against him as he held his arms open for her. After her head was settled against his chest and her hand against his heart, he reached down to pull her knee up and tuck her top leg between his. Once their ankles were comfortably tangled together, he clasped his hands together on her upper arm. “Comfy?” he checked, though he knew she was. Y/N loved to be held almost as much as he did, and this was their favorite cuddling couch. They were practically pros at the movie session cuddling by now.

She nodded against his chest but didn’t verbally respond as she had already gotten herself engrossed in Noah and Allie’s summer romance.

When Anne returned from the kitchen, she settled down with Gemma and pulled her daughter’s feet into her lap.  She took to reading a book while the rest of the family watched the movie on screen. Just as Allie discovered Lon was in town looking for her, Anne felt Gemma’s foot gently nudging at her thigh. Anne looked up at her, and Gemma jabbed her finger in the direction of the couch.

The Notebook was Harry’s all time favorite movie, but he couldn’t seem to be bothered by what was happening on the screen. His hand was wrapped up in Y/N’s hair, softly pulling his fingers through the tresses as he seemed to be humming to her. Her eyes were shut as she rested against him, but Anne doubted she was totally asleep. Unlike Harry, Y/N found it hard to sleep in public settings. Even this house, one she’d practically grown up in, was usually too public for her to sleep aside from in her designated bedroom.  Occasionally she’d see Harry whisper something and Y/N’s lips move in return, but her eyes never once blinked back open.

Finally, when the movie credits started rolling, Robin was the one to shatter their bubble. “Y/N, I hope you were planning on staying here again tonight, because I’m not letting you drive home at this hour. You’re too knackered. Get upstairs, kiddo.”

Y/N yawned and leaned up, Harry’s hands falling from her body in response. She had a few lines on her cheek from the wrinkles in his Harley Davidson tee, and she rubbed gently at her face to relieve the soreness. “Y’ can’t get rid of me that easy, Robin,” she replied, her voice laced with drowsiness. “I see your plan. I’m staying in that guest room forever.”

Anne laughed at her. “That’s your room, anyway, sweetheart. It’s for you to sleep in as long as you want it.”

Harry sat up as well so that Y/N wasn’t pinned behind him on the couch. “I’m pretty tired, too. Think I’m g’na head to bed.”

Anne nodded.  “Alright. Sleep well, love. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Harry climbed the stairs behind Y/N and watched as she went straight to the bathroom to brush her teeth and take her makeup off. He shuffled up beside her to brush his teeth as well and made sure to annoy her by bumping her hip with his to make her move to the side.

“You’re a right pest,” she grumbled, “D’ya know that?”

Harry grinned, mouth full of foamy toothpaste, and pressed a smacking kiss to her cheek.

“Ew, Harry!” she scolded, wetting her hand to wipe the toothpaste from her face.  

He finished his nightly routine long before she did and retreated in to his childhood bedroom to go to bed.  He stripped off his tee and jeans, opting to leave his briefs on just in case Anne came to wake him up for breakfast in the morning. He had just settled into bed and was scrolling through Instagram on his phone when he heard the quietest of knocks sound on  his door.  “Yes, love?”

Y/N just slightly peaked the door open, looking as shy as ever as she stood in an old shirt and her worn out plaid sleep shorts. “Can I come in?”

“’Course ya can,” Harry said, setting his phone down on his nightstand. He shifted a little further to the other side of the bed and sat up a bit as she quietly shut his bedroom door behind her and tiptoed over to his bed.  Instead of sitting cross-legged on top of the comforter as she usually did when she came in for their late night chats, she gently lifted the blankets up and climbed in next to him and settled her head against the other pillow.  She didn’t say anything but started to trace the tattoos adorning his arm as he looked down at her. “Y/N? What’s gotten into yeh today, love?”

She shook her head and didn’t respond, seemingly too caught up in the outline of his rose to properly respond.

“Y/N,” Harry said a little more stern, gently moving his arm away from her as he sat up fully against the headboard.

She shifted in response to his tone, backing up a little and sitting up in the bed.  Her bum rested on her feet as she stared at him solemnly.  “It’s just…”

“What, love?”

Y/N shook her head, features showing that of shame as she looked down at the bed linens instead of him. “Nevermind, I’m being silly.” She started to move to get up from the bed and make her retreat, but she was stopped by Harry’s large hand cupping her cheek.

“Love, if something is truly bothering you,then s’not silly. I can’t make it better if you don’t tell me what it is, hmm?” His hand against her face made it so that it was nearly impossible for her to look away from his piercing green eyes.  

“It’s just…Townes.”

Harry blinked, barely understanding what she meant. “Okay…? What about her?”

She sniffed, and Harry’s heart broke knowing she was struggling so much with what she wanted to say. “It’s stupid and selfish, but I hate knowing that you write all these songs about these girls and the world knows all about them and you thrive on it. You put her name in the bloody song, Harry! Everyone loves it, and I don’t even know her, but I feel like you guys just have this connection now that I was never good enough to have. It’s just…am I not special enough to you for a song? I don’t want you to be so ashamed of me that you won’t tell anyone about me.”

Harry’s mind scrambled as he intook this information. He never imagined this was how she would feel about the song.  Her words hit him like a ton of bricks and suddenly he knew. That feeling in the back of his mind that he’d always tried so hard to keep at bay…she felt it, too. She wouldn’t be so upset if she didn’t.  She loved him, too.  And he’d inadvertently made her feel unwanted. Y/N was all he’d ever wanted whether Harry had known it or not. He knew he had to make her feel better and hurried to grab her hips and pull her closer to him. She started to slip and fumble against the bed so she grabbed onto his shoulders to steady herself. Once her knees had been pulled to either side of his lap, he pushed her hips down to settle her into a straddle above him. “No, love.  That’s not it at all. ‘S that what’s had yeh upset ever since we were out in the yard today? Yeah, I wrote a song about a girl that I barely know. Think people might get a bit tired of me if I wrote them all about you like I’d like to do.”

Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise. “W-what?”

Harry chuckled, pulling her closer by the hips and nuzzling against her neck. “You beautiful, silly girl. You didn’t really think ‘Sweet Creature’ was about Gem, did you? You do have a song, and a very special place in my heart. But that’s just it. You’re too special, love. I’m too selfish to share you with the whole world.”

“W-wait, ‘Sweet Creature is about me?” her eyes watered as she looked at him in awe.

“’Course it is, love. ‘S just that you’re mine and the world can’t have you. Gotta protect yeh from them. Pretty sure I’ve loved you my whole life. But my love for you is just for you, and I don’t wanna share that with the world.”

Y/N seemed to sputter as she struggled to keep up. “You l-love me? Harry, I-I-” She started to get choked up and couldn’t seem to find the words to say.

“I know, love.  I know.” He reached up to hold her face in his hands, lifting his leg up to shift her closer to him. His gaze was locked on her mouth as he inched closer, and Y/N thought she might faint.

Finally, when their foreheads were pressed together and she could feel his warm, minty breath on her tongue, she let her eyes slip closed. One of her hands that had been resting against his shoulder moved up to fist at the back of his curly locks. “I love you, too, bubs.”

Harry felt as if he’d been struck by lightning when he buttoned his mouth firmly to hers. He was sure he could’ve spent his entire life just kissing her like that, but his body immediately craved to have her closer. She gasped when he traced her bottom lip with the tip of his tongue, and he quickly took the opportunity to dive into her mouth. She let out a little whimper that almost made Harry groan aloud when his tongue touched hers. Her fingers tugged gently at the roots of his hair as she pushed herself as closely to him as she possibly could. Their tongues tangled between their mouths for a moment before Harry gave her what she thought would be a reprieve, but she let out another little noise when he took her bottom lip between his teeth and gently sucked. This time he couldn’t control the little growl that bubbled up from the back of his throat and quickly reattached his lips to hers.

Y/N could feel the vague smug smirk adorning his lips through their kiss over the noises he was making her generate.  To retaliate, she quickly disconnected their kiss and trailed her lips down his jaw and neck, finding a nice place to bite down on at the same time that she rolled her hips forward against his. He groaned in pain and pleasure and took her hips back in his hand. “D-Do that again, love.”

“Do what again, Harry?” Y/N teased as she soothed over the bite on the side of his neck with her tongue. She gasped lightly when his hands gripped firmly to her bum and pushed her hips forward again. This time, there was no mistaking the erection straining hard against his briefs. “F-fuck,” he stuttered in her ear as she moved against him once more in a wave, enjoying the feeling of him heavy and warm between her legs.

Y/N lifted her head to kiss him again as she continued to grind against him. While she had him thoroughly distracted with her lips, she quickly moved her hand down between them to palm at him through his underwear. As soon as she pressed down into the bulge, Harry parted from her with a gasp of his own. “Don’t h-have to, love.” The next noise he let out could only be called a moan as she pressed her small hand against him again.

She shook her head and pressed her lips against his in a quick peck. “Want to,” she promised.  

Harry nodded, eyes closed and head leaned back as he just absorbed the feeling of her against him. He caught his bottom lip between his teeth to avoid being too loud as he felt her hand dip inside his underwear and brush against his swollen length.

“Can we get these off?” She tugged at the waistband of his Calvins, eager to get him loose so she could put her mouth on him.

Harry fought to open his eyes and make them focus on her face as he nodded and tapped against her thigh to signal her to move off him.  As soon as she was kneeling at his side, he stuffed his thumbs into the side of the briefs and lifted his bum to shove them down his legs. Once they were successfully discarded, he looked down at himself to see his length twitch slightly against his tummy, the raspberry tip bubbling a little bit of pre-cum against the hairs just under his belly button. He could almost cry it felt to good to be out of the confines of his underwear.

If he thought that felt good, it was nothing compared to what the felt when Y/N leaned down to timidly kitten lick at the little spot he’d dripped on himself. He bit down on the skin of his hand to keep from making a noise too loud as her tongue accidentally brushed against his slit. She looked up at him as if to get permission, and he nodded quickly at her before she looked back down and began to kitten lick at the underside of him as she took his length in her hand. Her tongue brushed against the vein throbbing there before getting caught briefly on the ridge of his head, and already Harry was frustrated by the veil of her hair obscuring his view. He gently brushed it up into his hands to hold on to as she finally took the head of him into her warm, wet mouth.

“Baby, please,” Harry almost whimpered. His balls were starting to hurt because of how turned on he was.  Luckily, she didn’t make him wait any longer and quickly bobbed down on him, her hand following her mouth’s path back up before sliding down again. On her next pass up, she lolled her tongue around his tip like it was a lolly, and his head fell back at the feeling. “Ungh.”

Y/N began to move faster against him, dragging her hand up and down the length of him with her mouth provide sufficient lubrication. She could taste the occasional blurt of pre-cum against her tongue, and it only made her want more. His little groans and gasps spurred her on even more, and she finally reached up his hands to cup at his balls while she had him deep in her mouth.  He groaned a little louder than he should have at the feeling, and she slid her mouth back up for her tongue to swipe at the slit of him just as her thumb gently pressed to the space just behind his sac.  He immediately gasped and reached down to grab at her hand. “N-No, I’ll cum. Ungh. Can’t cum yet. Have to be inside you first. P-Please, oh God, please don’t make me cum.”

She pulled up and swirled her tongue against his head one last time before sliding off him with a little “pop” noise. She pressed kisses against his hips and fern tattoos while she waited for him to catch his breath.

He panted rapidly against her, struggling to keep a quiet level as he tried not to lose his mind. “Fuck, where did you even learn that?” He laughed a little deliriously as she smiled against his hipbone. Finally, Y/N pulled herself up against him and he didn’t waste time pressing his lips to hers. “Are you gonna let me make you feel good?” He asked between kisses.

She whimpered against him and nodded almost imperceptibly. “Please,” she whispered against him, and he took that as his cue to gently flip them over so she was on her back.

“Let’s get this off o’ yeh, yeah?” Harry gently pushed her shirt up her torso, pressing kisses to the skin he exposed along the way. His tongue just briefly caught against her erect nipple before he lifted up to pull the shirt completely from her body. He quickly returned to the area, suckling her right nipple into his mouth as his fingers tweaked her left. She let out a quiet sigh of contentment against him and tangled her fingers in his hair, gently massaging his scalp. After giving her left breast the same attention her right had received, he started kissing back down her torso.  His hands slipped into the waistband of her shorts and pulled them down, leaving her panties in place.

Harry almost groaned at the sight of Y/N’s underwear. Baby pink cotton was darkened slightly between her legs, and he couldn’t help but gently press his tongue against the wet spot she had made. He wasn’t sure if it was the pineapple she’d had earlier in the day or if she just always tasted that sweet, but he immediately knew he had to get a better sense. He dragged his tongue up and pressed it gently against where he knew her clit would be, and she let out a wet gasp at the feeling. “S-stop teasing,” she stuttered, tanking gently against his curly locked entangled between her fingers.

Harry chuckled against her and kissed gently at her hipbone. “Just returning the favor, love.” He gently pulled down her underwear, and his mouth began to water at the pretty pink feast in front of him. “Christ, baby. So beautiful. Are yeh wet for me? I know yeh are.”

She nodded, her bottom lip caught between her teeth as she waited for him to move. Unfortunately, he seemed to be too preoccupied admiring her to actually do anything. “Harry, dammit, do something!” she groaned.

He looked up at her with a smirk. “Now, love. Gotta be patient fo’ me. Can yeh do that? Here, suck my fingers and get them nice and wet fo’ me, please.” He pressed his ring and middle finger against her lips and waited for her to close her eyes and suck them into her mouth. “Good girl.” Just when he was sure she was sufficiently distracted, he dipped down and licked a broad stripe up her sex. She immediately went slack jawed and struggled to inhale. He pressed his fingers against her tongue to remind her of her task at hand, and it took a moment before she wrapped her lips back around him and went back to sucking.

Harry’s tongue gently prodded against her entrance, taking the opportunity to lap up the sweet essence that was nothing but uniquely Y/N. When he had gathered most of her wetness on his tongue, he pushed his tongue into her briefly and made her whimper before removing his fingers from her mouth. “Thank you, love. Doin’ so good for me, aren’t you?” He brought his newly wet fingers down to her entrance and slowly pushed just one in, feeling her wet, spongy warmth wrap tightly around him. He fought against a groan of his own as his tongue gently lapped at her clit.

“Haoh, shit, Harry,” Y/N moaned, making sure to keep her voice low as her grip tightened in his hair. As soon as she pulled slightly against him, he groaned against her and set vibrations all across her clit. She whimpered and tugged a little harder, noticing how Harry’s eyes squeezed tighter shut and he licked at her with a little more enthusiasm. The knowledge that he liked having his hair pulled when he was eating a girl out nearly made Y/N fall apart. “Harry, please, more.”

He was apparently done with the teasing as well and pushed a second finger into her without preamble. He thrust them gently inside of her as his lips wrapped around her clit and sucked, and she turned her head and moaned into the pillow next to her. His fingers began searching her walls for that spot that would drive her mad, and he licked her clit into his mouth before gently shaking his head against her. His fingers brushed against a spongy spot inside her at the same moment and pressed into it. Her legs immediately snapped shut around his head as her muffled moans increased slightly in volume. Harry went back to licking against her for a moment as his fingers thrusted against her spot. Then he alternated between suckling against her and licking, noticing how the variety had her squirming underneath him. When he felt her walls begin to flutter around his fingers, he hooked his fingers against her little spongy bump and rubbed against it and his teeth sunk gently into her clit before giving her a good suck. His tongue ran just once against her clit, and she was falling apart beneath him whispering his name like a mantra. He worked her through her orgasm, only coming up when she tugged a little harsher against his curls due to sensitivity.

Her chest heaved against him as he journeyed up to her neck, pressing gentle kisses against her while she came down. “Yeh good, love?” he checked when he felt her breathing start to slow to a normal pace.

She managed the smallest of laughs against him. “I’m much better than good, bubs. I’d quite like for you to make love to me, though.”

Harry couldn’t help the elated grin that lit up his features, and he pecked gently against her lips twice. “Are you sure you’re still up for it?” When he saw her sparkly-eyed little nod, he couldn’t help but kiss her again. “Then it’d be my pleasure. Do yeh want me to use a rubber?” He knew she’d been on birth control since she was 17, but he’d still give her the option to see what she was more comfortable with.

She shook her head immediately. “Just wanna feel you.”

Harry smiled against her lips. “Never been bare with anyone before.”

Her cheeks got dusted with that rosy pink color he loved, but she didn’t seem as embarrassed as usual by his blunt language. “Me either. ‘M glad we can be each others’ firsts.”

Harry immediately shook his head and reached down to line up against her entrance, smiling at her gasp when his tip brushed against her still-sensitive clit. “Baby, we’re each others’ lasts.” He covered his mouth with hers before she could respond, he pushed inside her.

Y/N certainly hadn’t been with as many people as Harry, but she was no virgin. Despite that, she’d never felt anything quite like Harry inside her. She knew it wasn’t about the lack of a condom covering his length. It was her Harry, the boy she’d run through gardens with as a little kid. The guy she’d shared her first kiss with against a tree when she was eleven years old. She’d always loved him, and she’d never felt closer with anyone in her entire life. The knowledge that she, with her legs wrapped around Harry’s waist as he was buried to the hilt inside her, his lips gently rubbing against her collarbone, could not be any physically closer to him if she tried was enough to make her eyes misty.

“You’re so damn beautiful, Y/N. Swear I’m gonna love yeh forever.” She could barely hear the words uttered against her neck as he made his first careful withdrawal, all the way to the tip, before gently thrusting forward again. He looked up in alarm when he heard her sniffle, but she quickly took his face in her hands and pressed kisses to every bit of skin she could get at.

“I love you, too, bubs. Forever and a day,” she promised. He smiled against her just because she always had to one up him, then he pressed his lips to hers as he began to move a little faster inside her.

She gasped when the length of him brushed against that spot inside her, and her arm tugged him closer by wrapping around his shoulder.

“Shh, baby, gotta stay quiet. Can’ have them comin’ in, can we?” Harry gently hushed her his lips brushed against her temple.

She nodded against him and tried not to cry out as he reached down to grab at one of her knees around his waist. He gently hoisted her leg up into the crook of his arm to provide a new angle in which he could push deeper into her. His other hand braced against the bed to hold himself up as he pushed in all the way and grinded his pelvic bone against her clit. Immediately, her eyes snapped shut and jaw dropped open at the feeling, nails digging into his back as she fought for something to keep her grounded to earth.

Harry continued to thrust a little harder against her, always aiming for her spot, and stopped occasionally for those little grinds he quickly discovered drove her crazy. Her little gasps morphed into whimpers and whisperings of his names and quiet moans, and Harry nearly lost his mind. He began to thrust faster against her with the leverage his arm provided against the mattress, hitching her leg higher up in his arm so it was pressed between their torsos.

“Harry, Harry, ‘m gonna cum, please come back,” Y/N sounded desperate as she tried to hold off her climax. She wanted him close to her when she came, and she ran her nails down his back in an effort to pull him down to her.

“Shh, shh, I’m here, love. S’alright.” Harry immediately dropped her leg down from his arm and moved down to hover just above her. He took one of her hands from his back and intertwined their fingers together above their heads. He felt her legs wrap back around his waist as he pressed his lips against hers and moved a bit faster in an effort to get her to climax. He cursed slightly under his breath when the headboard started to gently tap against the wall in their efforts, and he reached up to hold the top to keep it from making to much noise. “Rub your clit for me. Can yeh do that, love? ‘M gonna make yeh come, I promise.”

The hand of Y/N’s that he wasn’t holding onto snaked into the narrow space between their bodies, and she gasped as soon as her fingers made contact with the nerves. She used her legs around his waist to pull her hips tight to his on every thrust he gave her, meeting him halfway. “Wan’ you to come with me. Please, please do it with me.”

Harry nodded frantically, feeling the coil burning white hot in his belly. “I will, baby, I will. Fuck, I love you so much.” He felt her walls begin to flutter around him, and he knew he was done for. He squeezed her hand tighter in his and thrusted as hard as he could while keeping a hand on the headboard in order to minimize the noise. “Come now, baby. Come with me.” They moaned into each other’s mouths as she clenched around him like a vice in her climax. He didn’t stand a chance as soon as she started to close in on him, and he disconnected his lips from hers to bite down into the spot between her neck and shoulder as he felt the coil in tummy snap. She continued to use her hips to thrust up against him as his orgasm hit full force and he emptied himself inside her. The feeling of rope after rope coating her walls was something she’d never felt before and never wanted to go without again. Finally, when she started to feel that he was spent, she released her legs from around him and reached up to brush a stray curl from where it was matted with sweat against his forehead. Her own forehead and body felt clammy with perspiration, but whether it was hers or his she couldn’t be sure. He shook lightly in her arms as he lowered himself down to her, pressing kisses to every bit of skin he could get at. He went to pull out of her, but she scrambled to put a hand against his hip and push him down into her.

“Not yet,” she begged, “wanna feel you just a little longer.”

Harry smiled, nodding his head as he lifted his head just slightly to kiss her. This kiss was less frantic than the previous ones had been. It was slow and unhurried and full of nothing but love. When Harry felt himself going soft inside her, he gently retracted his pelvis from Y/N’s before pressing kisses across her face. “Thank you for being amazing, love.”

Y/N felt her eyelids beginning to flutter shut from exhaustion but smiled nonetheless. “Thank you for loving me, Harry Styles.” She allowed him to pull the covers up their naked bodies, turning off to the side so that Harry could spoon behind her. She prayed they’d wake up in the morning before Anne came knocking on either of their doors and discovered what had happened before they got a chance to properly explain themselves. But when she felt Harry’s lips press gently to the shell of her ear, his arm around her waist and his whole body warming the back of hers, she decided to live in the moment. She’d worry about tomorrow when it came, because she knew she could handle anything with Harry by her side.




Thanks for reading, guys! I’d love feedback so let me know what you thought!!!

-S

A Life Less Ordinary by Jebiwonkenobi

It takes a few years but eventually they manage to agree on something; Derek Hale is an asshole, and Stiles Stilinski is in love with him.


Burn by night by thebrotherswinchester

Sheriff Stilinski has been kidnapped by Alpha werewolves. As bait. For his own son.


Cupboard Love by mklutz

He’s carefully balancing the sandwiches and the two biggest tupperware containers he could find that both had functioning lids when the front door opens and he almost drops everything right there in front of the stupid fountain.

If that’s Derek Hale, he’s definitely not a mountain man.


Daddy’s Do’s by apocryphal

“Hi Mr. Stilinski!” Lydia said pertly. “My name’s Lydia, and this is my daddy. His name is Derek Andrew Hale and he watches all of your videos on YouTube a lot, but he still can’t braid.”

[Stiles is a celebrity YouTube hairstylist. Derek may or may not have a crush. Lydia just wants a French braid for school picture day.]


Everything’s Better Under the Sea by tryslora

Everything changes when Derek goes under while surfing, hits his head on a board, and sees a man with a tail swimming away. He wants to know who that was, and what it has to do with Beacon Hills, the one place he never meant to come back to.

Keep reading

Petals - Bucky Barnes x Reader

PAIRING: Bucky x Reader

WORD COUNT: 4k+

WARNING: references people being sick A LOT

➳ A soulmate & hanahaki (The Hanahaki Disease is an illness born from one-sided love, where the patient throws up and coughs of flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love.) au

[Author’s Note: I’ve always wanted to write a soulmate au and figured seen as I’m making a new start on this new blog it’d be a great time to write one. Also I wanted the first thing I post on here to be something good and I’m content with this, it should end up being three parts but that depends on if people want more.]

The name of your soulmate appeared on your wrist when you were thirteen. You’d been overwhelmed by this uncontrollable delirium and a soft sensation passed over your wrist, like fingertips grazing your skin, and as they passed on they left the name ‘Steve Rogers’ printed in their wake.

You first met your soulmate when you were twenty four, it had felt like an eternity really but in the end it seemed to become worthy of all those years, years full of staring at the name ‘Steve Rogers’ on your wrist, tracing the bumpy letters on your wrist and revelling in the way your heart would stutter every now and again at the thought of him. Never did you think that the Steve Rogers on your wrist would be the Captain America though.

And you were twenty five when you found out that you weren’t his soulmate. The memory of that day was fresh and clear, it was early December and you were sat in your freezing cold studio apartment looking through pictures of Steve and your other friends. There was a smile on your face that didn’t match the unrelenting coldness of the month that had already begun to settle, and even though the night was falling and the air felt icy on the tips of your fingers, there was only warmth filling your chest as you went through the pictures. Pictures of you and Steve out on walks, making funny faces, the memories of convincing him to take the pictures were what had you smiling the most.

You loved him. You loved Steve Rogers so much that one look at his toothy smile had you soaring up in the heavens, bliss being the only thought you have, that and how much you love Steve Rogers. But the thing about love is that it’s very fickle, working in funny ways. On one hand it can be a beautiful and thrilling thing, but then on the other it can also be inhumane, barbarous, mercilessly slicing apart hearts with an already blood stained sword so sharp it doesn’t even let you take a second breath before all the air leaves your lungs. And that edged sword got to you on that particular night, being as unforgiving as expected.

Pain had suddenly spread to your limbs, causing you to throw down your phone onto the floor which still showed the nicest picture of you and Steve, you staring at him smiling and him looking back for once, you looked down at the name written on your wrist in letters shaped much like how you would write them. Every other time you’ve looked at that name you felt only elation, but on that day there was only stinging dread passing through the underneath of your skin until it reached your stomach and began to swirl strangely.

That’s when you noticed it, the discoloration of the words, the solid black beginning to fade. “Why is it- why is it red?” You croaked out, rubbing at the letters but quickly giving up and pressing your hand against the your aching belly.

Steve’s face was still clear in your mind - bright smile, smooth blond hair that he styled to what he liked rather than what the 20th century would want, timid blue eyes, playful lips that hid behind them plenty of sarcastic comments - it was all so incredibly painful and you were in love, so in love.

That was the first night you threw up flower petals.

After it happened all you could do was stare at your lap with confusion, throat tight as you observed the vivid petals that were now scattered around your figure on top of your bed. Picking one of the petals up, you got a closer look at them, finger tips caressing the petals smoothness. You quietly wished that the petals beauty didn’t have to be associated with the same despair that was burning your lungs and causing your hands to shake restlessly.

They were carnation petals. Radiant and soft, filled with all the love that was never destined to fill your heart. Because Steve wasn’t yours. It turned out that he was never meant to be yours.

***

Three years later and you’d finally learnt why your soulmate’s name had turned red, it was because of a rather charming lady named Sharon Carter. You had no reason to hate her at all, and yet during hers and Steve’s engagement party you couldn’t bare to look in her direction.

You’d stayed by Steve’s side for most of the night, your connection to him making it almost impossible for you to refuse the impulsive desire to be in his proximity at all times. There was so much about him that you desired; the way he always smelt like a cabin in the woods, the way his smile was so familiar to you after years of staring at it, making traces in your mind so that when you weren’t near him you could imagine up the perfect replica, your mood instantly brightened by the image.

“Fate did it again,” Sam Wilson began to cheer, raising his glass up after finishing the speech that you’d easily ignored, not desiring to hear the story of your soulmates profound connection with another woman.

Everyone yelled in agreement, glasses rising everywhere and faces turning to stare at Steve. Sharon was sat on his right but you were sat on his left, making it easy for you to pretend in your head that they were raising the glasses in celebration of yours and Steve’s connection instead. Or at least you could until they all chorused, “to the soulmates, Steve and Sharon.” Breaking the marvellous dream you’d gotten lost in up until that point.

You did not cheer along but you did raise your glass for a quick second, toasting more to your official transformation into a glitch, before downing the champagne flute in it’s entirety.

It sounded stupid, but you’d actually been holding onto hope that maybe somehow you could get the writing to go back to black and just maybe Steve could become your soulmate. The hope had come in like the tide would, smoothly drawing itself closer and closer to your shores and filling you, but it was quick to fall back, taking with it any remnants of light you once possessed as the tide would scrape away the surface of any beach. Painfully slow, the pain making it clear just how real your situation was.

Once the yelling was done Steve turned to you, that bright smile of content glowing on his slightly sweaty face, the space in the Avenger’s tower now clumped full of people that were relevant to Steve and Sharon’s life in some way.

“You look so awkward right now,” you laughed at him.

His smile didn’t falter, a sign that your friendship was still as solid as ever because it wasn’t unusual for the two of you to banter. “I asked Tony if we could do a small celebration, only I forgot that Tony doesn’t know the meaning of the words ‘small celebration’.”

“Then this is your fault really,” a waiter walked by and Steve grabbed two more of the champagne flutes, handing one to you. You guessed that he was trying to use the alcohol (as ineffective as it may be on him) to push down some of his nerves, meanwhile you were using it to push down the lump of petals that had been at the bottom of your throat the entire night. “He really did invite everyone,” you murmured, eyes returning to the crowd in front of you, “including your postman.”

“What, really?”

His eyes had followed where yours had travelled and you couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled past your lips, though you did try by placing your hand in front of your lips. “Made you look.” You commented, welcoming the joking glare Steve threw your way.

He took another sip of the champagne, a drink more suited to Tony’s taste than Steve’s but he knew that Sharon was a fan of it so the star-spangled man did not complain, especially because you’d already revealed that the engagement present you’d bought was one of his favourite whiskey’s.

“I’m glad you came, Y/N, this night wouldn’t be nearly as fun for me.” Steve blurted out, making that cursed feeling sizzle at the bottom of your belly. His words inspiring too much hope that he did actually love you. Now every time you became hopeful you were hit with the image of the black names stamped on Steve’s and Sharon’s wrist.

“You know I’m always here for you.” The words passed through your lips with ease because they were the truest thing you could possibly say, another curse that came with being a glitch. No matter what he did to you or other people, you would forever be by his side, saying yes to his every whim. “Always.” You whispered afterward, a reminder of your tie to the man who would never love you as much as you loved him.

“And yet you won’t let me be there for you,” he said, making you turn your head towards him in confusion because, as far as you were aware, you gave him everything. Every part of you and all the things that you could offer as perks. “Why won’t you let me help you find your soulmate? All Tony needs is the name and then he can find them.”

Except that, you gave Steve everything but the truth about the name on your wrist. You could never tell Steve about that.

“I just want you to be happy.” His last words were full of meaning and the tone which laced around what he said easily broke your resolve, the pain threatening to take over, making you realise that no matter how hard you try to keep a clean facade it will never be enough to bury your feelings in front of Steve’s affectionate eyes, genuine and dripping with concern.

“I’m fine,” you muttered, voice monotonous to cover up what you were truly feeling. You’d told so many lies to Steve by this point that they passed your lips far too easily now. “I want to do this alone.”

Steve looked down, smile completely gone as he pursed his lips in a tight line that matched the way your lips were. “I don’t want you to.”

Ever since the moment when you first met Steve you knew he was far too kind. Ever since you met him all he’d done was try his hardest to help you in anyway I can, much like how he would with every friend. But for you this wasn’t being nice, Steve was killing you with kindness and you could barely handle it anymore. You rushed to hand him your champagne though he’s confused by your actions so he reacts slower than you’d like. “I need to go to the bathroom,” you reveal after he finally took the flute, “I’ll be right back.”

You’d barely given Steve time to react before you performed a vanishing act in your high heels, making your way over to the bathroom and feeling especially relieved when you found it unoccupied. It took you seconds to collapse inside of the bathroom, falling against the toilet as petals burst from your mouth, your stomach emptying itself instantaneously.

The numbness gained from getting all the petals out is brief but alleviating, and for a short while you’re able to pretend that there’s no tightness around your heart whilst the petals continued to pour out, making you feel light and dizzy as the relief that comes from the flowers mitigates the pain for a few seconds. You weren’t sure how much time exactly you spent inside that bathroom surrounded by yellow carnations which had previously been built up in your stomach thanks to the engagement party. You only realised that you’d stopped throwing up the petals when the swell of pain returned back in your stomach, sharply pressing against your insides like razors rather than petals.

You began to glare at your right hand, the red print on your skin covered to others but far too visible to you. Always far too visible. You hated it so much. You hated how in summer you had to cover it up with gauze and how you’re only ever allowed to wear long sleeved dressed, and you especially hated how shameful the red print was. You wondered how destiny could be so cruel, not holding any kind of clemency against those that it chooses to bear the red words for the rest of their lives.

All you were was a glitch, and such a word always had you feel dry and raw on the tip of your tongue, the truth still so impossible to accept even after you bered the secret for years. The secret being that you were a glitch in fate, condemned to love from afar, doomed to accept the fact that your feelings were never going to be reciprocated, that your heart will always long for a missing piece that you won’t find in your lifetime.

It’s weird how the words in red changed your perception of life. How your innocent feelings for Steve turned into something much more intense and arduous, a desperate longing that came with the mark of a soulmate which is only satisfied in the moment when you find the person that also holds your own name on their hands. There would not be such a climax for you because you were a glitch, a name lost in the wind and never imprinted on someones skin.

Eventually you force yourself to get up, cleaning the bathroom by flushing down all the evidence of your disease. That’s the one good thing about being a glitch, it was easy to hide. All you need to do is keep the name covered and the petals out of sight; the only times the disease got hard to keep hidden was when you were with Steve.

You were surprised to find Natasha silently standing outside of the bathroom, blank eyes finding yours as she lifted her head to look at you, she proceeded to nod her head towards the empty balcony. When she spoke to your her voice was low, the tone sounding almost bored as she dragged out the words. “Come on, I’ll get you a strong drink.”

You don’t say anything to her, knowing that with Natasha there was no need to as she knew what you were going through better than anyone else in the party.

Natasha takes the lead through the swarm of fashionable guest whilsts you kept your concentration completely on the sight of the bar, slightly crowded against the other side of the grand room. Natasha placed her hand on your lower back when you approached the wooden counter, keeping you steady but not asking you to speak, instead she just orders the drinks. It was because she understood that your voice wouldn’t be out of use for a little bit longer, your throat probably raw and broken after all of the petals that had spilled out of your throat. As soon as the drink was in your hand you were quick to sip from it, sucking on an ice cube to cool down your burning throat. “Fuck,” you hiss once the sip was swallowed, “that’s strong.”

The tip of Natasha’s lip rose up, as she took a seat on one of the stools whilst guiding you onto the other. “Don’t worry, one glass won’t turn you into a sloppy drunk.”

“I’ll probably need another one of these,” you think out loud, infatuated by the idea of losing your mind in a glass of some unknown but very strong alcoholic beverage.

“No,” Natasha replied calmly, drinking out of her glass with a smoothness that comes from years of drinking strong liquors, building up an immunity. “I’m not dragging your drunk, crying ass out of here.”

“Ouch,” you muttered, hiding your smile behind the glass whilst taking another sip. Conversation had died down and a comfortable silence stretched between you and your unlikely friend you’d made after meeting Steve. It’s a welcoming peace amongst the buzzing excitement that always seemed to vibrate around the rest of the avengers, you’re casual and quiet behaviour too dull compared to the vibrancy Thor and Tony seemed to possess on these occasions.

It had you wondering if Natasha ever felt that way, feeling locked in as she was incapable of sharing the passion that is brimming around her, only able to focus on her own matters as she ignores the sickness of love that was always heavy in the air. But one look at her face made you realise that she probably doesn’t even care, and the jealousy that suddenly curses through you is so sharp even Natasha seemed to feel it, turning towards you to give you a curious look. “Spill,” she said, finishing her drink in one gulp.

You couldn’t hold back the words that spilled from your mouth, far too curious. “Dd it hurt?” Natasha seemed slightly startled, and that might have been the strongest emotion you’d seen on her face in years. “The surgery,” you cleared up, heart beating nervously as you realised that it may have been a sensitive subject, but as per usual she looked barely fazed.

“They all the pain away, Y/N. So no, it didn’t hurt.” Even though Natasha didn’t seem affected at all, even ordering another drink, you had a feeling of dread faintly tugging at the inside of your chest. Memories of Natasha’s wide smile and quiet yet vibrant laugh still fresh in your mind and very much missed. All that is left of her after the surgery is a mere shell of what she used to be, a rougher facade that sometimes glinted with the ghost of a smile and half hearted laughter. But Natasha isn’t suffering anymore, she got rid of all the pain that came with being a glitch even though it meant sacrificing every single feeling in the process.

“What do you feel for him now?” You prodded further, carefully watching her reaction for any inclination that you’d gone too far.

“For Clint?” There was no emotion in her voice as she pronounced the name of the person that used to be tattooed on her skin, sharp letters in bright red. The name had completely vanished, after the surgery the name had turned fainter and fainter until the letters were completely gone. “I’m happy for him, I guess. Laura is a nice girl, and they look pretty good together.”

“Did you ever tell him?”

Natasha glanced briefly at you, beginning to look slightly tired of your questions, “no way. It’s not that I care, but I know he’d beat himself up for it. He never asked when he found out that I was a glitch, and I’m glad he never prodded.”

You nodded quietly, “sometimes I think about telling him, you know,” you say softly, biting down onto your lip when your heart began to jump against your ribcage. “My delusional brain likes to believe there’s still a chance. That fate got it wrong, somehow. That maybe he loves me and not her, down down.” You couldn’t stop the bitter smile on your face as your own thoughts came out of your mouth, even as you said them you realised how unrealistic they were.

“I’m not going to lie, when I first saw you two together I thought you could be soulmates.” At her words you tensed up and she seemed to notice your distress straight away, fidgeting on her spot. “Sorry. I forget to be tactful sometimes.”

“You always used to pick your words so carefully,” you gave her a dejected smile, one that she doesn’t return. “Don’t you ever miss it thought?”

Natasha blinked at you, confused, looking at you straight in the eye. “Miss what?”

“Being love. Feeling things so intensely.”

She seems to mull your words for a moment, eyes gazing at the liquid in her glass before trailing upward, stopping on something and so you look that way too. Clint stands on the other side of the room, drink in hand. When you turn back to Natasha you feel like you see her eyes turn melancholic for a second, sparkling faintly before the gleam is gone, but then you convince yourself that it was just your imagination.

When she finally answered, her voice came out almost fragile, a ghost of the old Natasha Romanoff resurfacing in the forlorn quirk of her lips. “I’m not even sure what missing feels like.”

The two of you settled in a comfortable silence after that, you forcing the putrid drink down your throat so that you could get the pain to be numbed by the buzz of alcohol if only for a moment. You didn’t know what was going through Natasha’s mind and you never did really. It was still hard for you to imagne what it must be like to have all emotions taken away. As a glitch though you understood more than most the need to have it taken away, but for you there was always fear stopping you.

As you dismayed in that silence, your eyes often scanned your surroundings. Perhaps you were making sure that Steve and Sharon weren’t anywhere near, or perhaps you were looking for something else.

Though you weren’t sure what that something else was, you found it in the form of James Buchanan Barnes. The encounter didn’t fully bloom into something else in that moment, but it was the start. Like a matchstick when it first grates it’s way across the rough texture of the matchbox, the beginnings of flames blossoming but not executing a full flame. No that came after after two or three more times of being struck. In this situation you were the matchstick, and Bucky was the matchbox.

You’d heard of Bucky from Steve plenty of times beforehand but you had never met the damaged soldier as he was a bit of a introvert. An introvert to the point of hiding himself away from most people whenever he possibly could, you assumed that this engagement party was not one of those occasions.

His eyes were a blue you’d rarely seen. They were bluer than Steve’s and had your mind conjuring up a number of new metaphors, though most of the words you could think of had already been wasted on metaphors for Steve’s eyes.

Bucky seemed to be staring back at you but you couldn’t truly be sure as he was hidden in the shadows of the corner of the room, long brown hair falling in front of his face in a way that hid his eyes very well. But the shadows nor the hair could hide what he was playing with in his hands, it looked to be a familiar shape but that wasn’t what truly gave it a way. It was the colour that had you recognising what was in his hands instantly. It was the petal off of a carnation flower, a yellow petal.

The drink you had in your hand was spilled instantaneously, slipping out of your weakened grasp and falling onto the floor with a loud smash that had your surprised condition announced to everyone. It felt like the entire world was looking at you then and there, you simply had no choice but to run away despite Natasha’s disgruntled moans about your surprise attack.

As if the urge to throw up more petals wasn’t already taking control of your instincts, placing you instantly into panic mode, the compulsion only worsened as you slapped your body into Sharon’s.

She was as kind as ever, placing her hands around your shoulders and checking to see if you were okay. But her hands felt like fire pressed flush against your skin, melting the layers of skin and scolding your bones, the pain flowing it’s way through your body as easy as blood passing through veins. Impulsively you cast her hands aside, having to force the words ‘I’m sorry’ as you ran past. In reality you wanted to scream at her, possibly murder her because she won. Even if it was never a game, she’d won the life you would now only be capable of dreaming of. But what use was such a dream when you’d have to wake up to a living nightmare?

Steve looked extremely concerned when you passed him, the petals already weighing down your tongue.

You had to get out.

No one could see the petals.

Even as you thought those things heavy doubt fell on your shoulders. Bucky knew, and you didn’t know him well enough to figure out if he’d go around telling everyone. You couldn’t even decipher what that show in the bar was meant to be, a threat? A show of understanding? Either way your mind had jumped to the worst possible scenario and it had you running out of the avengers building as fast as your feet would allow you.

Once outside you went to find the most private place you could to finally let the petals be freed once again. That would have been the fifth time that day.

dare - peter parker

Dare - ((Tom Holland)) Peter Parker x Reader | 3rd Person 

Prompt: What happens when (Y/N) can’t refuse a dare, and she takes it too far?

a/n: THIS IS MY LONGEST IMAGINE YET AND I’M SO HAPPY WITH IT!! also thank you for all the love on my last 3 imagines! and yes, the ladder part is based on the scenes in nerve!


(Y/N) didn’t know how her reputation came about. It started as a single dare, to which she completed. The one dare turned into five, five turned into 15, and eventually turned into 154 completed dares. Every dare she finished, one of her friends took a picture. (Y/N)’s wall was full of pictures, each with a date and dare name.

Now she was in the same situation. (Y/N) was sitting in a room with her friends, playing the infamous truth or dare. It came to her turn and obviously she chose dare. It didn’t come as a surprise, yet everyone cheered. (Y/N)’s friend smirked and ushered her out of the room. Once (Y/N) was gone, her friends begun to discuss the dare.

Every time (Y/N) was assigned a dare, it was her friends’ mission to make sure she couldn’t complete it. They called (Y/N) back in the room and one friend stood, beginning to announce the dare. “You, (Y/N) (Y/L), have to meet and take a picture with…” they paused, “Spiderman.”

(Y/N) felt her eyes widen, and looked over to her friend Peter, who stood with a slight fear in his eyes, though she couldn’t pinpoint what the fear was for exactly. Nonetheless, she had to manage to track down, meet, and take a picture with Spiderman. Spiderman was elusive. Even though she lived in New York, (Y/N) had only ever seen him once. She didn’t even know what to do.

“How much time do I have?” (Y/N) asked, feeling anxiety bubbling in her stomach.

“You have,” The friend turned around and asked everyone else, “5 days.”

“5 days!?” (Y/N) was beyond livid, “You are fucking joking!”

“Sorry (Y/N), I guess you can’t complete this dare.” They said, smirking.


It had been three days already, and (Y/N) was getting desperate. She tried to do some petty crimes like stealing, but Spiderman wouldn’t come unless it was an emergency. (Y/N) figured he had better things to do than try and stop a high schooler from stealing.

Day four. She had one day left. Her reputation was on the line. Not only her reputation was, it seemed like her life was. Everything she had was built on this persona of fearlessness and bravery. Her friends, the way she carried herself, her confidence, even her family knew. It was pretty silly, but it was true.

She thought back to a previous dare. (Y/N) had jumped across from the roof of her apartment complex to another building. That was the first, and only, time she had seen Spiderman. He was there and jumped down, thinking she had been trying to commit suicide. It was actually his web, which had pushed her to the other building, that had helped her complete that dare.

She called up everyone and told them to meet her at her apartment building. And to bring a ladder. Everyone soon came, and (Y/N) explained the plan. She went to the top of the apartment complex and took the ladder. With help from friends on the other side, they steadied the ladder so it was suspended between the two buildings.

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Discipline 101

So you have the ambition. You have all the answers. All you lack is the discipline.

Unsurprisingly, this is a problem most people have, so don’t worry, you’re not alone.

Tell me, do you have a concrete goal? Or is it something vague like, “Rule the world”, or “get rich” or “become famous”?

Usually those who lack discipline have a habit of getting ahead of themselves and they end up having all these fantastic goals without any knowledge of how to achieve them. They have big ambitions, but no clear plans, no visible steps, and no foundation to start their life on. It’s the equivalent of standing on one side of the river and being able to see the other side, but having no method of making it across.

It’s good to have a starting point, and know what you want in the end. But the path to earning what you desire isn’t pre-made for you. It’s up to you to lay every brick and measure everything out. In your life, you’re the architect, you’re the engineer, you’re the investor, you’re everything.

So the how do you get some discipline?  It’s simple: You need to know how you’re going to do something, before you set out to do it.

Step 1: Get Motivated

Make a list. And make sure you handwrite it. Two columns. Think about everything you have a problem with, all your interests and passions, and everything you have ever wanted in one column. In the other column, spend as much time as you need to come up with solutions to each issue/goal. Don’t write one side, without the other.

Spend a couple days looking at that list. Make it into a poster, use it as your phone background, it doesn’t matter as long as you make sure you see it every day until you feel something. I’m saying that incredibly vaguely because people are fueled by different emotions. For me, it was rage.

Every morning, I stared at that list of everything I’d ever wanted, every little problem that made my life miserable and I got furious. To see what my life revolved around so callously written on paper, and feeling so close yet so far, that drove me insane. My anger made my passion double, and nothing fuels discipline more than passion.

Step 2: Plan

Once you’ve gotten yourself suitably motivated to take charge of your life, don’t waste any time. Start by creating a plan. Now that you know what you want to do, figure out how to do it.

Create a timeline for the next year and then a looser version for the next ten years. It can sound daunting, but when you fall off track at some point (and I can guarantee, you will) you’re going to need something to point you in the right direction.

For your detailed, one year plan, make sure your goals are distributed into two categories: Short term and Long term.  

For your short term goals, list everything you want to achieve in that year and how exactly you’re going to do it.

For example,  if you want to lose weight, I don’t just want to see you write down “lose weight”. Tell me how. Tell me how much. Tell me by when. “Lose five pounds by October by going to the gym 4 days a week”, or “Cut down on eating X food so I can lose 5 pounds by October”, etc. Be specific.

For your long term goals, pick 3 things you want in general. The first thing should be something you can achieve in that year, and it should be the focus of your entire year. The second thing is something you don’t necessarily need, but it makes you happy anyways (like spending more time on a hobby, or saving money for a new designer bag, etc.). The third thing should be something that stays fairly consistent in every single ‘year-plan’ you have. Ultimately, it’s either your most important desire, or very close to it.

These long term goals will help you put together your 10 year plan, and create a better sense of direction in your life.

Step 3: Prioritize

Learn to prioritize these tasks and goals. Don’t go to sleep until you’ve felt like you’ve completed all your tasks for the day. Don’t give in to distractions and the illusion of “well-deserved fun”. Sure, going clubbing may seem fun on  Saturday, but it won’t be fun on Sunday night when you’re frantically writing a paper that’s due in two hours. There’s always time for fun later, there’s always another concert and another football game and another party. But some things have a greater impact on your life than just one night of “fun”.

I’m not saying become some kind of a workaholic. There’s always a time and a place for everything. If you try to follow your plan without any distractions or any fun, you’re going to get bored and then you’re start to hate your plan and your life and then it gets messy. Avoid all that by knowing when you’ve earned a break. It’s very important to discern when you can afford to step away from work to have fun with your friends and when going out is just going to distract you from an important deadline. 

Step 4: Act

Now, don’t just write these goals down and shove them in a dusty file on your desk. Keep them within arms reach. Look at them frequently. What I like to do is every morning, I write down a short term goal I have for that week/day/month and one of my long-term goals in my planner. It’s just a little reminder and keeps me focused throughout the day. I don’t feel like my day is complete or productive until I’ve had some progress on either the long term or short term goal.

Also, keep in mind that while planning is a great thing to do, don’t expect yourself to stick to every single detail of the plan. Life happens, and there are certain things you cannot control (although it wouldn’t hurt to try). Don’t be too hard on yourself if you find yourself unable to complete one of your goals for the day/week/month. It happens to everyone, we’re all human. What you need to focus on is the big picture and move on. Don’t waste precious time wallowing in past mistakes. Time doesn’t wait for anyone, least of all for you.

Step 5: Commit

Discipline doesn’t come from just being motivated or having a plan. It comes from consistency. Form productive habits, start efficient routines, and stick to them. For example, if you want to become a writer, make sure you write something, however small it is, everyday. One sentence, one paragraph, one page, the amount doesn’t matter. It’s important to understand that something, however small, is better than nothing. This constant dedication to your work will help you move one step closer to your goals.

The more you force yourself to stay in line when faced with temptation, the easier it will be every other time you are faced with the same challenge further down the line. Everyone forms habits. Just make sure they’re the right ones and you’d be shocked at how much your life could change.

Everything you need to become disciplined is inside of you. Everyone has the willpower and motivation. It’s just some people know what to do with it.

Just remember: Get motivated. Plan. Prioritize. Act. Commit

And the world is yours.

It’s An Older Sibling Thing

Characters: Dean Winchester x Friend!Reader, Sam Winchester x Friend!Reader

Length: 1469+ words

TW: Mentions of drug dealing, prostitution, and child abuse

A/N: I’m so sorry I’m posting this so late! I literally wrote this the night I signed up for the Challenge, but completely forgot about it ;; This is for @not-moose-one-shots 6K Writing Challenge! Congrats on 6000 followers, boo! And thank you for hosting the Challenge. This is my first time joining a Challenge, and I’m so glad I did it! 

11.  “He must pay well.”


A low growl erupted from your throat as the demon took your laptop from your backpack. Two days. It’s been two days since you were kidnapped, and tortured.

“You hunters think you’re so smart,” the demon taunted with a smirk. You looked over his shoulder, realizing that he was tracking Dean’s location. It was the same technique that every hunters used when you needed someone’s location- all you needed was their phone numbers. “We’ve picked up a few skills while being hunted.” He laughed with a wicked grin. “Now, c’mon. We’re gonna pay the Winchesters a little visit.” He raised his gun, and knocked your skull with the butt of it.

When you came to, you realized you were laying on a motel bed, the yellow lighting being too bright for your eyes. You groaned in pain, trying to assess your surroundings. The binds that were around your wrists and ankles were gone, and you felt the uncomfortable feeling of gauze and tape around your injuries.

“Easy, Y/N,” a voice rumbled from the other bed.

“Dean?” you called, turning your head to face him. His jaw tensed as you looked at him with confusion on your face. The motel room was a mess as if a hurricane went through it.

“That’s what happens when you lead a demon to our room,” he sniped, seeing you look around the room.

“What do you-”

“The demon you brought here.”

“Brought here?”

“Don’t play dumb, Y/N.” Dean rolled his eyes. “We know you told him our location in exchange for your life.”

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Essays in Existentialism: Footy

International Soccer Player Star Lexa au is and forever will be my dream

The heat rolled off of the pavement in the afternoon. Stagnant and ornery, it listlessly bullied everyone in the streets until they were just as uncomfortable and oppressed, just as mad, just as sweaty and tired and beat up like the harsh summer day. The bustle of the street didn’t stop though, despite the heat, despite the heaviness. Instead, people milled about as best the could, fanning themselves with their hands or papers or ducking into stores, eating ice cream, and failing against nature itself.

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POPULAR TEXT POSTS + ASK MEME  (  PART 3  )

❛ i need a reasonable paying job, something like $2,000 an hour. nothing too wild. ❜
❛ idc (i do care) ❜
❛ ‘are you taken?’ yes bitch, taken for granted ❜
❛ half of me is a hopeless romantic and the other half is, well, an asshole ❜
❛ you’re yelling? at ME? the one person who has never done anything wrong ever?????? ❜
❛ you will find your home, you will find your place. you will find your people. give it a little bit of time but it will happen. ❜
❛ in order lead a happy life i’m gonna have to disappoint my parents a bit. ❜
❛ any body else here not good at anything??? ❜
❛ you can’t force people to appreciate you. ❜
❛ *puts on baseball cap* i am the dad now… ❜
❛ i fake smart.. like i’m honestly a dumbass idk shit but i know how to seem like i do.. i’m smart-passing.. ❜
❛ every straight woman who ever called her platonic friend her ‘girlfriend’ owes me $50 ❜
❛ i am a professional at misreading tones and overreacting to problems that most likely don’t exist ❜
❛ honestly if i survive the next 3 years of my life, i will be impressed with myself ❜
❛ you can’t cure sadnesses with a shower but honestly there is no purer place to suffer ❜
❛ patiently waiting for a kind soul to come along and make everything a little softer, brighter. ❜
❛ honestly i don’t even play an active role in my life, shit just happens and i’m like oh this is what we’re doing now? ok ❜
❛ no offense but if i die and no one uses a ouija board to keep me updated on memes i will literally haunt you all ❜
❛ imma start charging people for hurting my feelings $3 an hour ❜
❛ i have finally reached the age of most young adult protagonists yet my life is still uneventful??? where is my cool story??? my cool talents??? @ universe i’m pissed ❜
❛ hello, police? i accidentally stepped on my cats foot and need to be arrested ❜
❛ *tries to watch 45 minute episode in 20 minutes ❜
❛ please don’t just come in my life, take my heart and leave. please don’t do that. ❜
❛ concept: me, 10 years from now, living in a pretty house with my love, sipping a hot cappuccino on a rainy autumn afternoon. our dog curls up next to me in the window bench while our cat snoozes on the bed. i’m financially stable and i’m never tired anymore. the bees are safe. ❜
❛ i can’t believe what walkie talkies are called ❜
❛ the gorilla could have died and been done with in like a week but none of you know how to be normal ❜
❛ me: *is bitter but is also right* ❜
❛ just saw a girl in high heels long boarding to class. godspeed, my queen. ❜
❛ i’ve never belonged anywhere, i’m always just in between ❜
❛ too young for unnecessary stress, i gotta live ❜
❛ i may not be beautiful but at least i know a lot of useless information ❜
❛ i’m like always sleepy. i feel like i should be used to this by now and stop complaining about being sleepy but i can’t. always, i’m sleepy. ❜
❛ lmao no offense… but what’s the point of being mean to people for no reason ❜
❛ drunk me is the me i really want to be. confident, hilarious, and most importantly, drunk ❜
❛ “alcohol isn’t supposed to taste good” buddy watch me drink the fruitiest/sweetest shit i can find and enjoy it because i don’t hate myself enough to even begin to consider drinking like.. beer ❜
❛ tfw you’re already fully aware of the unnecessary self destructive bullshit you’re doing but you can’t bring yourself to do anything to stop it ❜
❛ hey sorry for not replying i didn’t want to ❜
❛ honestly how am i gonna make it in the world???? i get a little teary eyed any time someone compliments my personality ❜
❛ true bonding is when you and your friends are all angry about the same thing ❜
❛ *touches your hand and looks seriously into your eyes* i am a piece of shit ❜
❛ lets play ‘how rude can i be until you realize i don’t like you’ ❜
❛ i love drunk me but i don’t trust her ❜
❛ hate when i am wearing makeup and still look shitty like what else am i supposed to do? get enough sleep? eat right and exercise??? as if ❜
❛ i’m not on a high horse. i’m not even on a horse. i’m face down in a ditch on the road of life ❜
❛ i hate when people ask me what i would do in their situation because 9 times out of 10 i would literally never be in that situation in the first place ❜
❛ i barely remember the last 6 months honestly like am i even alive ❜
❛ you had me at ‘hello’ and lost me at ‘i think your friend is cute’ ❜
❛ i’m pretty sure by now ‘tired’ is just a part of my personality description ❜
❛ wow i really liked that song now i think i’ll listen to it another seventy times in a row ❜
❛ ‘shit it’s 2 a.m.’ i say every day at 2 a.m. as if i’m surprised ❜
❛ i’ve been stressed out since like the third day of second grade ❜
❛ telling other girls they look pretty is like cracking a glow stick full of positivity and female friendship ❜
❛ i want to be sun kissed and also people kissed ❜
❛ about me: glowing, eating peaches, drinking wine in lingerie, not texting your desperate ass back  ❜
❛ i highly recommend never having feelings ❜
❛ due to unfortunate circumstances, i am awake ❜
❛ i’m gonna solve mysteries so fucking good ❜
❛ what did people even wear in 2008 ❜
❛ i’ll just ¯\_(ツ)_/¯  my way through life ❜
❛ you know what sucks? everything bye ❜
❛ me? overreacting? probably ❜
❛ people asking me what kind of music i like is such a stressful experience ❜
❛ honestly if i survive the next 3 years of my life i will be impressed with myself ❜
❛ if you listen carefully you can hear me whisper ‘shut the fuck up’ at least once every five minutes ❜
❛ any time you like a boy just know you played yourself. always keep that stored in your mind for later ❜
❛ hopeless romantic with trust issues and a sex drive out the roof ❜
❛ what i lack in personality i make up for in…….. nothing ❜
❛ me? cancelled ❜
❛ an app that tells you how raven something is ❜
❛ be with someone who will take care of you. not materialistically but takes care of your soul, your well being, your heart, and everything that’s you ❜
❛ i love the infinite multiverse theory because that means there’s a universe where i’ve pulled every single fire alarm i’ve ever seen ❜
❛ name a more iconic duo than the lengths i’ll go to both get attention and to avoid it… i’ll wait ❜
❛ i just want to be treated very gently and smell like vanilla and wear only matte dusty rose lipstick ❜
❛ 2017 is going to be a very healing year because it’s going to force us to accept that 2007 was ten years ago not three and i think that’s the root of our collective issues ❜
❛ i just wanna do cute things with you like crush the patriarchy, fight for gender equality, and help to destroy racism ❜
❛ i may not be that funny or athletic or good looking or smart or talented… i forgot where i was going with this ❜
❛ how is 2016 already almost over?? like this bitch came in, fucked us up, then left like she gave us a gift ❜
❛ supercalifragilisticextentialcrisis ❜
❛ stop breaking your own motherfucking heart ❜
❛ co-napping is a beautiful thing. knock out with me so i know it’s real ❜
❛ *on the verge of tears* ok not that i care, but ❜
❛ it’s not you…. it’s your zodiac sign ❜
❛ i want to be loved so bad it’s pathetic and embarrassing ❜
❛ my heart is filled with hate and swag ❜
❛ ‘i don’t care’ i say, caringly, as i care deeply ❜
❛ i highly recommend never having feelings ❜
❛ we all ugly to somebody, don’t trip ❜
❛ do i have a crush or am i just idolizing this person for being vaguely nice to me? ❜
❛ my parents were arguing today and my mom said that justin timberlake wouldn’t treat her like this ❜
❛ kissing is hella rad but no one is kissing me so that makes me hella sad ❜
❛ everyone’s having their mid-life crisis at like 19 ❜
❛ there are just people out there that are the embodiment of the sun like the things they say do light up the world and make you feel warm they are human sunshine ❜
❛ dermatologists HATE me… everyone hates me. i’m so alone ❜
❛ you know when you realize and you just… realize ❜
❛ a girl can respect herself and still take booty pics wtf y’all talkin about ❜
❛ i’m not badass i’m sadass i cry about everything ❜
❛ inspired by animal crossing, i’ve started doing this thing where i mail my best friends a framed picture of myself and then never speak to them again ❜
❛ i didn’t know double texting was such a big deal?? i have a lot to say ❜
❛ can someone please just be proud of me like fuck i’m trying ❜
❛ cosmo sex tip #367: when you’re in the mood, tell you partner ‘my spidey senses are tingling’ ❜

(  you can find the other popular text posts memes on my old blog: 1, 2 )