no one is better than you okay

Zach x Reader: Flowers and Lovers (One Shot)

(A/N: Another one shot to make up for my lack of content. So sorry for that by the way, I will officially be coming back the moment Riverdale or Thirteen Reasons Why starts because I need more inspiration and ideas to create more stories that all of us can enjoy! Thank you x

Plot: The one where the flowers knew better than anyone else on the world of how much you love each other.


Tulips


Zach failed the first time.


“Okay fine, I’ll give you a chance Zach.”


You said that with your eyebrows furrowed and voice laced with exasperation, a careful hand on your hips. Any guy would’ve felt bad or guilty or ashamed but Zach was waaaay past that. He had been chasing after you since you were both freshmen, marked you the moment his eyes landed on yours. From the amount of time he spent pursuing you he actually got to know you better, better than you would’ve liked. 


He knew you and in that moment he saw the glint in your eyes that meant you were not annoyed and this wasn’t just a petty chance, this was a challenge.


He was right.


“Bring me a dozen of my favorite flowers and we’ll go on that date.”


He had miscalculated; he saw you brushing the petals of some red tulips on the garden of the campus and immediately jumped to conclusions.  


“Justin! You gotta walk home, pal.” Zach said, walking past Justin who, by his second nature, immediately followed Zach. “I got something I need to go.”

“Wha—Hey! Where?”

“A flower shop!” Zach screamed, already jogging up to the ‘secret exit’ that they use when they need (want) to cut classes.  Which was literally just a shitty wire fence that they made a hole in big enough for them to pass through.
Justin’s face broke into a smile just as he broke into a run to catch up with Zach.


“You figured it out?!” Zach only smiled in his best friend’s direction and Justin shook his head on disbelief. “Then there’s no way in hell I’m staying here, man. You wouldn’t know the difference between a lily and a rose to save your life”


Zach could only laugh, too hyped to shot back another witty remark, as he and his best friend ran towards the parking lot and drove off to the nearest store to find the perfect red tulips that would be worthy of someone like you.


“Sorry, Zach.” Your face was full of humor and despite his disappointment Zach’s eyes couldn’t help but look down at your lips that you bit to hide your smile. “You can try again.”


“Wha—“he went back down to Earth when you started walking away. “You’re not kidding?”

“Nope.” You popped the ‘p’ before giving him a smirk. But as you glanced at him you can see the disappointment in his eyes and started to feel bad.

It wasn’t that you didn’t  like Zach because you do, God knows you do, well, Jessica does. Aside from his ‘built-like-a-demigod’ physique and smile that makes you want to rip off his face with a kiss, he was sweet, charming, smart (if he wants to be), funny, and just so different, (not too shabby in the face department too).

He was different and that’s why he makes you wary. You were not used to different. You were used to boy being assholes and you were used to the fear you feel every time any of them shows interest because that means another game to play and you were so sick of it already.


You know Zach was different, but you didn’t know how different.


And it scares the living lights out of you.


You stopped walking away, returning back to Zach’s direction. He seemed confused but you just broke off a tulip and about an inch of its stem before placing it behind his ears.  “The tulips are beautiful.” You looked at his eyes as he gave you a smile. “Thank you.” You leaned up to your tiptoes and gave his cheeks a peck, catching him off guard and making his face turn as red as the flower in his ear.


“But do try again.”


Daisies


It was daisies.

Zach, finally concluded one beautiful Sunday morning after failing three more times with white roses, sunflowers, and dandelions.  Zach was preparing for your parents arrival since your family and his were close friends and his father just returned from New York which, in their book, was enough for a small gathering. Your family has always been close since his mom met your mom in uni long before they settled and got married and by default you had to be friends too.


“(Y/N)!” 


Zach’s head nearly snapped to the front door when his sister disregarded their chess match to come running in your direction.


“Hey there, princess.” You laughed as you scooped up Zach’s sister in your arms for a giant hug. “Your brother still bullying you?” You smirked in his direction, making him roll his eyes.


“He is the worst chess teacher ever.” His sister mumbled making you laugh, which naturally made Zach’s heart beat twice as fast.


“Hey! Not going easy on rookies is a sign of being a good teacher.” He tried to defend himself. You situated yourself on the other side of the small coffee table as his sister sat beside him.


“Well then, teach.” You chuckled, placing the pieces back to their original place, “Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?”


There was a long tense silence before he smirked. “Well, to be honest you’re kinda small—“

“You are such a – “

“(Y/N),” your mom called for you from the kitchen, Zach immediately stood up and gave your mom a kiss on the cheeks making her fall in love with Zach even more than she already is, silently giving you the look that says ‘you-better-snatch-this-boy-or-you’re-grounded-for-life’. You rolled your eyes. Typical Zach, making everyone love him and shit. “Sweetie, can you pick up some wine from our house? Your father has foolishly forgotten to bring it with us.”


You sighed, pulling yourself back up. “Sure, mom.” It was not that long of a walk.


“I can drive.” Zach offered, making you stop in your tracks. “It’ll be faster. And safer.”


There was dead silence as everyone tried to process what Zach just offered. Your house was literally a 10 minute walk from Zach’s and it was eight in the morning. Your mom gave you the same look, almost squealing in her place, Zach’s sister was just staring at Zach and smiling mischievously (obviously enjoying this all too much), and Zach looked like he was almost ready to get hit by a lightning or eaten whole by the ground just to get himself out of this awkward situation.


“Oh Dempsey, you and your cars,” you tried to lighten the mood as you grabbed his arm. “Let’s just walk, I could use the exercise and you can protect me from – whatever it is that could harm me like the sun or something.”


“Y-Yeah, the sun,” he laughed nervously, but his arm never faltered from your hold. His eyes were silently thanking you for saving the day. 


“Have fun, darling!”
Your mom screamed at you as Zach opened the door. You spared her a glance just to roll her eyes and send her a wink. 


You wrapped your arms with Zach’s as he tightened his hold on yours. It was a beautiful time to have a walk with spring at its peak and the weather cooperating with the mood with its clouds and winds. You watched Zach as he leisurely looked around your neighborhood, so calm and relaxed, so different from the guarded superstar at school. He suddenly stopped and slowly removed your hands from his arms before he sprinted and then suddenly jumped, grabbing something from a nearby tree, making some of its leaves fall all around you. You closed your eyes, afraid of any residue getting in it. When you opened it Zach was already handing you some random flower with a sheepish smile on his face.


“Nice try, Dempsey.” You giggled as he jokingly snapped his hands and muttered a ‘dammit’.


The rest of the walk consisted of Zach trying to steal as many random flowers from the gardens of your neighbors making you laugh. Watching a giant like him try to be sneaky was something you could watch forever.


“Nope.”
“Nice try, Zachy.”
“What the fuck is that?”


Zach groaned when you finally reached your house, you had an armful of flowers on your right arm and you even decorated your right ear and both of Zach’s ears with colorful small flowers. Oh, if Justin saw this he’d have a field day.


Zach took another flower from your hand and started plucking the petals one by one as the pout on his face got deeper.


“You’ll get it right soon, Zachy. I promis—oh watch your step!”


Zach tumbled as he tried to stop his current movements in your request. When he looked back he saw tiny dandelions poking out from the ground of your front yard.  He was about to pick it up before you smacked his hands and gave him a glare.


“You wait here and stay put. I’ll get the wine.”


You knew you’re mistake. You couldn’t help it. You’ve been watering those dandelions since last week, it was a thing you’ve had ever since you were a kid. You loved those little flowers that were mere weeds for other people but for you something about its subtle and unappreciated beauty that just attracts you to them. You appreciated the simple things in life, even if they were just flowers.
You quickly ran to your kitchen where you saw three unopened wine bottles sitting on the counter. You quickly called for Zach but received silence as a response. You sighed, trying to cradle each bottle on your arm and went out, just to catch Zach’s running figure towards you.


“Where have you been?”
He was panting and smiling like crazy. “I was out,” He took a deep breath. “And you need to go with me.”


He took two of the three wine bottles in your arms and took your free hand with his before dragging you, in full sprint, towards a series of small paths until you realized you were going up some sort of hill.


“Zach! Wait!” He merely looked back at you, flashed you a smile and tightened his grip.


When you were at the top, you could swear you were almost dying from losing too much breath and overusing your lungs.


“You are …. fucking craz – holy shit.”

“You’re welcome.”


You couldn’t believe your eyes. There were daisies. Hundreds – no, maybe thousands, just scattered all over the hill overlooking the park. They looked like tiny white fairies from your view with the sun making each petal brighter in your eyes. The sweet breeze made everything more serene and when you recovered from the shock you looked back at Zach who was grinning at you.


“I know you only asked for a dozen but …”
You scoffed, sniffing. You didn’t even notice until a tear slipped from your eyes which you quickly wiped away. 


“I used to take my sister here, when I was young. We’d play all day and she’d place daisies all over my hair.”
He looked out into the view and breathed deeply. “Life was so easy then.”


You stared at him before placing your palm on his shoulder, and with a little force, you had him on eyes length as you leaned in for the kiss. He was quick, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you in closer. All the failures and crazy shit he did just made this moment sweeter.


Zach could’ve lived in that moment forever.


You were a giggling mess when the two of you broke apart, Zach kissing every inch of your face that he could.


“You know,” he kissed your neck, beaming at the squeal that you emitted. “,we should probably start talking about that date.”
“Hmmm,”
you pretended to think just to antagonize him a bit. “Wine? Check. View? Check.”
Zach grinned starting to get on your program. “And a pretty hot boy in my arms too.”
“Well, well, well,” he let go of you just to remove his hoodie and place it on the ground. “Looks like I got my date already.”


Roses


Your eyes widened in surprise when you saw the state of the king-sized bed in the middle of the room of the small cabin Zach has rented out for the week. The white bed was littered with the petals of some poor red roses and a wine bottle with different assortment of fruits with a chocolate dip at the middle.


It was in the middle of summer and knowing how much you hated the heat Zach quickly found a solution to your problem and another reason as to why he should be named the best boyfriend ever.


You smirked, looking back at where he was smiling sheepishly with his hands on his pockets.


“Well aren’t you romantic,” you wrapped your arms around his neck and gave him a couple of kisses all over his face as a sign of your gratitude and flattery. The way his hands gravitated towards your waist, pulling you closer, made your smile even wider.


“Or maybe I really just want to get laid.”


You burst out laughing at his remarks, slapping his chest to push him away.
Leave it to Zach to ruin a moment.


“You are insatiable.” 

“Oh come on!” he whined as you walked away from him. Trying your best to act mad. “Baby, I was joking.”


The moment he realized you were intent on keeping up your facade he gave a playful growl and made a dash towards your direction making you squeal filling the, otherwise, silent cabin of giggles and laughter.


Jasmins


The jasmins were the first thing you saw as you went out of your apartment complex but it was the boy holding it that made your eyes water in happy tears.
It had been three months since you saw your boyfriend of eight years considering his job consisted of a lot of traveling and unnecessarily long meetings.

Even after moving in with him last year you still couldn’t get enough of him and his month long absences were always frowned and dreaded upon no matter how much he reassures you and calls you to somehow make up for  it.


You jumped on his arms, making you appreciate his sheer strength as he caught you with one hand while securing the flowers on the other knowing you will get upset if you accidentally mush it because of your excitement.


He also sneakily angled his right hip away wanting the diamond ring to remain as a surprise just until after the surprise dinner he prepared.


“Please don’t leave me ever again,” you whispered in his ears, the small uncontrollable sniffles making his heart soar and break simultaneously.


He laughed silently.


Your wish has always been his command.

(I lied when I said I won’t be doing something for 800.)


HOW DO YOU GET ONE?

•mbf @frightphil

• reblog this post so it doesn’t flop woop.

• send me an ask off anon , rec a song that’s currently stuck in your head.

•if you don’t want to see this “Dakota does blogs”


ⓘⓒⓞⓝ: good, better than mine, hnngggf bye I’m stealing it.

ⓣⓗⓔⓜⓔ: okay, oohh pretty, I wish that were me

[music]
pop, studio ghibli, alternative rock.

(outer space)

stars, moon, and sun

(a feeling )
panic! overload, a soft blanket, a walk at night, holding hands

and a comment by yours truly.

It Is July 22nd And I Hope Mike Shinoda (And The Rest Of The Band) Are Okay

A thousand suns burned
in your fiery mind
but what you saw
rubbing closed eyes
were black hole suns.

12 comes one step closer  
than your loves
or loved ones ever could,
but it never felt like midnight;
instead,
just the 3rd quarter of unending day.
Luggage bags were full of minutes,
but what put you to sleep
was what you could feel in it.

That’s why your nightstand
was a mic stand
and everyone saw your talent as a dream
and woke up in a chillingly warm sweat
when the synonyms under the lyrics
under one more light.

We are all living things somehow,
but we forgot that seeing you.
With you,
we were exceptionally bright at night,
all while you were a shadow of the day.

And still,
it must’ve been hard being that luminous
when you couldn’t find an off switch
so you ripped out the power cord instead.

That’s the thing with a meteor:
you’re never close enough to see that
it is flaming out.
That’s the thing with a meteora:
you’re never close enough to see that
it is crumbling down.

The last thing I remember being told
was to run to the hills,
and be a helping hand
to every Jack and/or Jill
but in the end,
did it ever really matter?

Does it?

Little Luxuries || Gladiolus Amicitia x Ignis Scientia

So @itshaejinju​ asked me for headcanons. And guess what? It turned into a goddamn fic. I think this is actually one of my longest written fics, with the other being Addicted. Thought o be honest, it was initially going to be just a headcanon ramble. But with how things played out, it turned into a really long fic. But hey, I have no regrets over it, because then I figured out how to finish up/start out Little Luxuries. It was a really weird process on how I actually went about this fic, but I’m okay with the result either way. 

Pardon my usual typos, because I’m a scrub who needs a better proofreader other than myself. Hope you enjoy it nevertheless, Jin! C:

Words: 5191
Pairing(s): Gladiolus Amicitia x Ignis Scientia (Gladnis), Bumbling Bit of Promptis Implied Too
Warnings: Fluff to Angst, Awkward Romantics, A Crying Gladio, Hell of Alot of Reading


“Is it weird to like your best friend?”

Perhaps Gladiolus shouldn’t have asked Prompto of all people about this sudden yet profound realization, because the blond-haired chocobro stammered profusely and tried to justify that he and Noctis were just friends. “I mean, good for you, Prompto, but I’m talking about me.” Gladiolus was far too casual with the question as he sort of stared off and listened to Prompto continue to ramble more about Noctis. Despite his curiosity, he supposed Prompto had more he wanted to talk about.

Besides, all Gladiolus really wanted to talk about was Ignis.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Hey I love your blog and I need advice. My boyfriend's mom has always been very supportive of my veganism and has even made many changes to her diet. But she still continues to feed her daughter hotdogs (even though she herself would never eat one) and says they are okay because she gets a Kosher brand. I don't want to push her away from veganism but at the same time I want to educate her that there really is no difference between kosher/non kosher meats.

Thank you for the kind words, I’m glad you’re enjoying my blog. People tend to be grossly misinformed about what the requirements of the kosher label actually are, the same with halal. Animal welfare isn’t any meaningfully better for kosher animals than they are for factory farmed animals, and if you observed both slaughter procedures I honestly don’t think that most would be able to even be able to tell you which was which. 

Kosher ritual slaughter, or hechitah, involves a quick slice to the throat with a very sharp and perfectly straight blade, to fully drain the blood from the animal while they’re alive. The myth behind this is that it’s painless and that it renders animals insensible, but there really isn’t much evidence at all that this is the case, and it really isn’t much different at all to standard, secular slaughter practices. 

There have been multiple documented cases of extreme cruelty in slaughterhouses meant to be kosher, and these aren’t isolated cases with just the smaller slaughterhouses. Israel itself had to shut down it’s largest slaughterhouse because undercover investigated exposed widespread and truly horrific abuse, and slaughter methods which would be at home in any American or European slaughterhouse, and this was by no means an isolated incident at a kosher slaughterhouse. The truth is that there is really no humane way to kill an animal who doesn’t want to die, and call it whatever you want, halal, kosher, free range, organic- they are all killed for our taste-buds, and that’s wrong no matter what method of slaughter is being used.  

scienceoftheidiot  asked:

one honest thing : I didn't recognized who you were until right now. HAH ! Okay real one : you seem like a passionated woman, who loves nature. I'm not sure if it's an opinion but that's how I feel seeing your posts ! :)

Lmao sorry about that. I must annoy you all so much with changing my account. The problem is I have a new obsession every week and I get bored easily.

Thanks. I do love nature! That’s a better opinion than ‘grumpy woman who complains a lot about young people’ which is what I was expecting :D

anonymous asked:

mollie i'm literally about to start crying bc of all this invalidating shit today and idk why i care so much??? like they are a bunch of straight white ppl who enjoy having lgbt folks as the punchline of their jokes and their words shouldn't mean shit to me but it fucking hurts so much... like i thought they were better than this??? i just feel so fucking small right now and i am about to start fucking sobbing and i hate being Emotional like this

no omg one it’s totally okay to care this much? at least for me i really really relate to lena and i love the supercorp relationship and tbh even though i thought melissa was a white feminist i didn’t realize she was literally this fucking ugly…….

we deserve so much better than being the punchline of jokes and you’re wonderful and beautiful and i’m so proud of you?? for just being you and living and loving women okay? 

(long post, sorry)

In spite of everything I love Harley Quinn but, damn, writers treat her so badly. I swear, the temptation to make her actually stupid must be terrible because it’s so often implied, or explicitly stated, that she slept her way through school. First of all, it does not work like that.  Second, she’s not a therapist or a psychologist, she’s a psychiatrist, she’s a fricking MD and a damn young one too. Managing pre-med and collegiate gymnastics that she relied on to keep her scholarship? Harley is fucked up, but she’s not the dumb blonde she plays. (also stop making her stacked, she’s a gymnast. she is 4’11” of pure muscle and is not top heavy)

If you want a good Harley backstory it’s simple. She’s ADHD but medicated and slightly robotic because of it. I want to take special care not to demonize meds but, rather, people’s disapproval of neurodivergence and a lack of focus on what is best for a patient rather than what is most convenient for others. So, maybe, around ten years old Harley is a hyperactive space cadet who’s brilliant at tests but sloppy at coursework, who would be a gymnastics prodigy if she could actually focus on technique and put in practice time instead of fooling around. Then the meds come and it’s actually really cool because she can do the things she needs to do instead of just wanting to do them, doing something else entirely, and getting in trouble. People are proud of her, she’s proud of herself. But now there are expectations. Family and teachers and coaches overschedule her, find worth only in her success and don’t care about her mental health at all as long as she’s performing and castigate her when she does fail. Fuck if you don’t internalize that. But she doesn’t look unhealthy and she’s doing amazing. She actually has to choose between the Olympic trials and continuing her grad studies. She probably has some issues with self-harm but it either doesn’t look like self-harm or is well covered up. 

When Arkham accepts her, fresh from her residency, it’s not a mistake. The woman is amazing. All they can see is a mountain of achievements rather than the seething ball of nerves, self-loathing, and imposter syndrome boiling just under the surface. That’s when Joker comes in. He’s got the Hannibal Lecter shtick down. Where everyone else sees an intelligent driven young woman he sees a frightened overwhelmed girl who is working her hardest to convince the world she’s anyone other than herself. Sending her into a nervous breakdown would be too easy so he doesn’t even bother. Instead he’s open with her, almost friendly. The other doctors are amazed, Harley is amazed, she’s not done anything particularly revolutionary but, for the first time in forever, it looks like the clown prince of crime is showing progress. He unravels her and it’s a challenge, she flinches back and gets very serious when he comes too close to the real Harley under the professional. Still, soon she’s questioning everything. She doesn’t even really like her co-workers. She hasn’t had a real friend in years. She’s forgotten how to have fun. Did she ever want this to be her life or did she just do it for other people? It starts so slowly that it looks, at first, like she’s getting better at self-care. Maybe something totally silly one weekend, a trampoline park where she can enjoy the way her toned body moves without stressing out over landings, a face painting booth at a street fair, some garishly colored downright tacky decoration that clashes with her sensible apartment. Suddenly she realizes how much she hates knowing the difference between cream and ecru. The beigeness of her life is repulsive. She hates the person she’s pretending to be even more that she hates herself which is really saying something.

After her weekend of freedom she would have called in sick if it wasn’t so suddenly important to see him. The relief she feels at talking to one of Gotham’s most infamous supercriminals is disturbing but it is relief and she’s been swallowing a slow-motion panic attack for hours. She admits, though she shouldn’t, that she took his advice about doing something fun and he teases her, what would straight-laced Doctor Quinzel do for fun? Did she realphabetize her sock drawer or buy a new clipboard? It’s not important to impress him, it’s really not. He’s dangerous, cruel, and he looks so proud when she admits that she bought a lamp shaped like a lawn flamingo. The only mistake, he says, is that she should have stolen it. She hopes the wicked thrill it gives her doesn’t show on her face. It does. She almost even laughs. He likes it when he can make her laugh and she likes it when he likes things.

It’s wrong and unprofessional, the relationship she develops, and she knows it but her whole life she’s been so high strung. Nothing she’s done has been for her, she’s not sure she knows how to really do selfish things anymore, but he knows the selfish things she needs to do. It feels good when she follows his advice even when it’s small things like the rainbow striped socks she wears concealed under her very bland slacks and sensible shoes. She’s so happy, almost giddy, and he loves her happiness, he loves her, he loves the real her that she’s had to beat down and hide for so long, the her that even she isn’t able to love. She is able to love him, though, and since he loves her she’s able to love herself for him, to protect and nurture something so important to him.

When the choice comes between her old self, the tedious endless labor of making the world proud, and Him, the spectacular man that brought color into her life, it’s not even a question. She kills Doctor Harleen Quinzel, she throws away the version of her that let herself burn just for medals and hollow accolades. She embraces Harley Quinn and it’s so much a part of her nature she can’t even see that she’s still living her life for someone else’s approval, except this time that person is a murderous clown. She hasn’t let her hair down, she’s just put it in pigtails instead of a bun.

  • To the aro lesbians: youre not feeding the stereotype or sexualizing lesbians. Its not your job to desexualize lesbians. You deserve the world and more 💚
  • To the aro gay men: youre not feeding the predatory gay stereotype. Its not your job to end the belief that gay men are predatorial 💚
  • To the aro bi and pansexuals: youre not emotionally manipulative or abusive for being aromantic. Its not your job to end the belief that bisexuals and pansexuals are sex hungry and emotionally null. Youre deeply emotional and complicated and no one can take that from you 💚
  • To the aro heterosexual men: youre not inherently mysoginistic or a "fuckboy" for not being interested in pursuing a romantic relationship with a woman youre sexually attracted to. Its not your job to single handedly tackle the belief that men who like to have sex with women but not engage in a romantic relationship with them are predatory misogynists. You identity is not problematic because it overlaps with these negative stereotypes 💚
  • To the aromantic heterosexual women: Your aromanticism is not an obstacle for men to hurdle and "defeat". You are not a prize to be won 💚
  • To the aromantic asexual people: you're aromanticism/asexuality does not make you a waste. Your companionship is no less valuable than that of alloromantic allosexuals 💚
  • To the aromantic people who feel broken: you're not, aromanticism isnt the character flaw that media makes it out to be. It is a valid identity, not a quirk or mistake. Its an identity 💚
  • To the aromantic minors: youre not immature, you wont "realize when youre older". Aromanticism isnt a childish thing that you grow out of as you mature. Your identity is just as valid NOW as it will be in twenty years. Just because people get up in arms about a-spec identities in minors doesnt make you any less aromantic. 💚
  • To the aromantic abuse survivors: whether your aromanticism is related to your trauma or not does not invalidate it. Whether youre aromantic because or despite your trauma youre still aromantic and no less than those who arent survivors 💚
  • To the romance repulsed aromantics: its okay. YOURE okay. Romance being shoved down your throat every way you turn is hard, and people ignoring your feelings about it hurts but youre just as valid as those who dont experience it. You deserve to be as comfortable as everyone else 💚
  • To the autistic aromantics: your autism doesnt discount your aromanticism whether theyre closely entwined or not. You deserve better than allistics policing your identity and how it interacts with your autism 💚
  • To the popular aromantics: its not a competition as to who can be .~*the one*~. to "fix" you no matter how much it may feel that way. You are so much more than a challenge for people to overcome 💚
  • To all aromantic people regardless of all else: i love you. I promise you'll get through this 💚

anonymous asked:

i have a prompt for you: what if snape hadn't called lily 'mudblood' that day. what if their friendship had stayed strong, unbreakable. would he have grown to be a better person? would lily have loved him, rather than james? would harry just have another godfather? would james and lily have survived?

Okay you have successfully convinced me to write a Snape thing, which is a possibility I have audibly forsworn many times to my loved ones. But I’m a sucker for concepts like “Harry gets another godfather,” so, here we go.


When Severus was seven, he fell in love with the girl down the street. She had long red hair and dirty knees and she offered him half her candy bar one drizzly afternoon, waiting outside the school for her parents to come pick her up.

His parents weren’t coming— dad working late and mum at the pub recounting old Hogwarts glory stories, talking of years when her life was magical– but he didn’t tell Lily that. He was just waiting for the older bully boys who lurked in the empty lot on his way home to get bored and leave.

He ate the candy slowly in neat little bites while she grinned and told him about her big sister’s feud with the science teacher, like her Tuney was some sort of hero in a political espionage drama. She talked with her hands, narrow little things with freckled backs. He watched her wave from the back window of her mother’s car and then he started the long walk home.

When Severus was fifteen, James Potter dangled him upside down in the quad and laughed. Severus landed on elbows and knees. The bruises would stay for a week. The memories would not die with them— James’s cocky grin, the laughter in the spring air, the long whip of Lily’s red hair.

He felt small, bug-like, his knees pressing into the grass. His mother would come home some nights, kick the threadbare carpet, rattle the battered old pans in the cupboard, curse a Ministry that hated purebloods, that sucked up to halfbreeds and Mudbloods, that left the true wizards to rot in filth. He would curl up, make himself small, bug-like, imagine a chitinous shield growing over his shoulders, his spine, the softness of his kidneys. Some days, his father slept through this. Some days he screamed back.

After Severus met Lily, he would curl up under his covers, small, bug-like, and read through the comics she’d lent him with his hands pressed up over his ears. He wanted Professor X to come take him away. He wanted to be someone special, someone saved. He wanted a giant to burst through his door and frighten his mother and offer him a squashed birthday cake and a way out.

When Severus was fifteen, he slammed to his knees on the green Hogwarts quad. Laughter burrowed into his ears, like curses, like the nights his father screamed back, and when Lily stepped toward him he snapped, “I don’t need help from a Mudblood.”

When Severus slouched up to her door that summer, Lily didn’t invite him in. She leaned on the open frame of the door, arms crossed. He had so rarely seen Lily neither smiling or incandescent with rage, but she watched him with snakeskin eyes and a set mouth, still.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t–”

She twitched a strand of hair over her shoulder, the irritation the closest thing to an emotion he could spot on her. He was watching, desperate– this was Lily, she gave things away. She talked with her hands. He never felt lost, with her. “But why,” said Lily. “Why are you sorry? Because I’m upset, or because what you did was wrong?”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“You did, and it’s not the point. I don’t care if it’s the part you care about, Sev, it’s not the part that matters. That was an awful thing to say– to say to anyone. You were cruel because you were scared and embarrassed, but Sev I could really care less. You were cruel.”

“I’m sorry,” he said again.

“Sorry’s not enough, Sev. Be fucking better.”

He jerked back and tried to turn it into some kind of laugh. “Language, careful, your mum might hear.”

She shrugged, and stepped back through the open door, and shut it in his face.

He spent the summer reading comic books, haunting the local library, then the local park once it’d closed, and then sneaking home when he was hopeful his parents would be asleep. He tried to think about bravery, but sometimes he just thought about Lily’s hair, the way it went more golden in summer. He tried to think about nobility, ethics and grace, but the clouds chased each other, fat and white, across the sky and he wasn’t sure what any of this had to do with him.

His father took him fishing by a dreary brown creek and they sat in silence. Severus could hear every creak of the rods, every lap of the water, every inhale and movement his father made. He thought maybe if he just said nothing, nothing ever, he’d never say anything again that made Lily’s face go so flat and distant. If he said nothing, maybe nothing would hurt.

His father reached back for a beer can in a swift movement and Severus froze himself unflinching. He sat in that silence afterward, slowing his heartbeat, picking apart the sudden rigid shell of his shoulders. His father hummed, cracking the can open like a gunshot.

He sat alone on the Hogwarts Express that year, stuffed in a compartment with a handful of second years who gave him half the seats while they giggled among themselves about the haircut of someone named Gertrude. Every summer’s end, for five years, he and Lily had boarded the train together, pressed their noses to the window glass, and watched the land rush by.

For the first month of school, Severus practiced pausing before he spoke, for seconds, minutes if he needed them. Sometimes he’d add an answer after the conversation had already moved on, bent over his mashed potatoes, weighing words as carefully as he weighed salamander eyes and mandrake root.

(If you crushed firedrake seeds with the flat of your blade, instead of cutting them, they made a more potent potion. The textbooks told you to stir six times counterclockwise to make Sleeping Draught, but he knew–because he had thought, and tried, and tried again–that if you did five counterclockwise and two clockwise the draught would turn that perfect turquoise and the sleep would be dreamless and sweet and deep. He kept notes in his textbook’s margins, because it helped to remember.)

In the second month, he tried to listen. People were starting to think about life after school, a big yawning chasm they were supposed to fill with themselves. People were starting to fall in love, puppyish and petty. People were starting to believe in the war, whispering, dreaming, fearing.

In the common room, one of the kids said something about Mudbloods and Severus’s head snapped up. He tried to imagine a shell growing into his shoulders, over his spine, covering all the soft parts of him. He wanted his covers, he wanted to shrink, he wanted Lily’s boxfuls of comics, but he rose to his feet and snapped back. Sometimes saying nothing hurt people, too. A small Muggleborn in green and silver ducked away to her dorm, clutching quietly at her sleeves.

For the third month, he tried to watch– not for warning sneers or cocky grins, clenched fists and broad shoulders, all the things he’d been watching for since before he could name them– but for the way shoulders might go rigid, the way fists might clench but hide, wishing for something to shield every soft part of them.

Severus was bony and pimply, sixteen years old and graceless in it, but he could be an interruption. He could mock with the best of them, flicking his brows and twisting his nose, and asking pointed questions. He could talk, smart-mouthed and snide, until the focus turned to him, and then he could survive anything they handed out. He could give as good as he got. The pauses were shorter, these days, before he spoke, but they would always be there, an echo offset from the shout, an avalanche that struck late and terrible.

When kids cried in bathrooms or empty classrooms or the library, he didn’t move to comfort them, though he heard them. He didn’t know how. He wrote his own curses, out in the forest where he could scar the trees in experiment, and they all turned out bloody. He loved few things, even Lily, as much as he loved pouring all of himself into his work, until something new and his own grew out of it. He wasn’t sure he’d ever invented something kind.

He didn’t try to find Lily, but he came back from the Forest once and almost tripped over her, half-napping in Hagrid’s pumpkin patch. He stumbled back into a gargantuan gourd while she pushed hair out of her face and peered up at him.

“I’m sorry,” he said, after a pause that rumbled and roiled in his gut, that he clung to with both hands, breathing into it and letting his shoulders go soft. “I’m sorry I said it. I’m sorry I made you feel small because I was feeling– small.”

Lily sat up a bit, in the little semi circle she’d built herself of books and scrolls and gobstones and snacks. She had built fairy circles like that, when they were children, of the flowers he’d transfigured for her.

“I’m sorry anyone has to feel that way, ever,” he said. “They shouldn’t. I’m angry anyone has to feel that way.”

“Me, too,” she said, and, fishing around in the detritus that surrounded her, handed him half a candy bar. “C'mon, you want some tea? Hagrid said he’d put a kettle on for me if I finished my Arithmancy.”

When Severus was in sixth year, Remus Lupin almost killed him on a moonlit night.

Severus had wanted answers, had wanted to get them in trouble, had wanted something a bit like vengeance, and Sirius had told him about the Whomping Willow. Sirius had grinned when he’d done it, small and bitter, and Severus had wondered if he was fighting with James again, wondering why else he’d sell out his friends.

“I didn’t think–” Sirius tried, the morning after, watching Remus across dry toast and cocoa, big juicy bowls of melon.

“You never do,” Remus snapped. (A bare handful of years later, standing in the smoldering ruins of James and Lily’s house, Remus would think about Sirius’s erratic gaze, the sharp edge of his voice, his last name, and wonder if he should have seen it coming. What here was premeditated? What was mischief? Sirius had once almost painted Remus’s own hands with red blood.)

But for now, Remus was sixteen and angry; he was sixteen and guilty of things that might have happened. He didn’t speak to Sirius for a month.

James refused to speak with Sirius, too, but he only lasted a week. Moony was sulking and Peter was busy studying his little heart out, and James got twitchy without proper and regular socialization.

“I’ll punch him in the nose,” said Lily, when Severus told her. She shifted where she sat cross-legged on the library table, like she might go off and hunt him down that second.

“Black doesn’t deserve the attention,” said Severus.

“Getting his ass kicked by a girl? That type of attention?”

“Getting his ass kicked by Lily Evans,” Severus said. “It’d be an honor and you know it.”

Reports of violence outside Hogwarts got worse. People were disappearing. People were whispering, fearing. The papers were ignoring the important things, and feeding off the fearmongering, or so Lily announced in the library while Severus was trying to study.

Alice and Lily had spent years sharing hissed rants in humid greenhouses. Over an undulating bed of luminescent deadly nightshade, Alice bent her head close to Lily’s and asked, “Have you heard of the Order of the Phoenix?”

Keep Reading (Ao3)

Keep reading

Homestuck Pool Party Headcanons

John: Canonballs in IMMEDIATELY, he is yelling and he is fucking excited move out of the way this boy is coming through!! Also, because he has a breath aspect I am 413% certain that he can stay underwater for indefinite amounts of time and you can bet your ass he’s going around grabbing people’s feet to freak them out. He and Terezi have a contest to see who can make the most people jump, I will not say who wins I will only say that it is unfortunate for everyone involved. He and Dave are an unstoppable chicken team, they have never lost and will do Whatever It Takes to make sure that remains true.

Dave: Is just chillin, he cares more about keeping his shades dry than swimming around. He will go hard as hell in Marco Polo tho, if you thought he was too cool to jump at the nearest person faster than the speed of light you were wrong buddy he will do what it takes to WIN. Also, when he is the Marco he will (unfairly) target Karkat. This is frustrating. “I’m not even being that loud” Karkat protests for the umpteenth time Dave tags him. “Bullshit” everyone else says, but there’s still a rule that Dave can’t tag Karkat more than five times in a row because really Dave we know you love hearing him yell but Enough Please.

Karkat: Is Bad At Marco Polo. He is so loud. My son. Please. Is very hesitant to get into the water at first bc he’s sensitive to the cold and would rather angrily sweat than deal with the initial shock of getting in. Dave will patiently chill nearby until Karkat is ready, or Dave decides that Karkat is ready in which he will absolutely drag him in. Karkat does not know how to swim so he won’t go past the shallow end, and considering how short he is, uh, that’s not very much of the pool. Dave has to carry him sometimes which he complains about A Lot but secretly kind of likes it whoops. Karkat and Sollux are the shittiest chicken team, Karkat is too afraid of falling in to have any sort of effective strategy and Sollux is like “Karkat just push him” and sort of plows into the other team which just leads to Karkat screeching and nothing gets done.

Roxy: LOVES SWIMMING WITH HER FRIENDS!!! Real people?? That she’s hanging out with?? And you KNOW she’s excited to wear that cute as fuck bikini she alchemized months ago ‘just in case’ ;) ;) ;). After years of knowing Jane and her silly prankster shenanigans, John will absolutely not get the drop on her no sir, he tries to grab her foot she will raise that leg and pull the boy out of the water and give him the Mom Look™. This is war. John will not win. She loves being with Jane and Roxy and her boys!! She is just full of so much love it’s incredible. She deserves this so much.

Calliope: Doesn’t know much about swimming or why humans (and trolls ish) find it so enjoyable, but Roxy is excited so she is too! Interestingly enough, cherubs Do Not Float. Roxy is waving a nervous Callie into the pool and she’s coming down the ladder and once it gets to her chin everyone expects her to do something but no, she makes it to the bottom of the pool and just walks like normal over to where Roxy is. The water level comes up to just below her nose and she has to tilt her head back to speak. “Like this?” She asks excitedly, ‘uh,,, yeah,,,like that’ everyone responds nervously, giving big smiles and thumbs up because they don’t want to disappoint her.

Jade: A master swimmer, she and Jake grew up on an island in the middle of the goddamn pacific my girl knows how to GO. No one realized how fucking ripped Jade was. Jade is ripped as heck. She’s got back and shoulder muscles like an absolute goddess and everyone is like holy shit? Jade? Have you been benching pumpkins all these years? She likes chilling with Jane and Roxy and Calliope because she has been longing for some gals to hang with forever. Not that she doesn’t love Rose, she does, it’s just, they have such differing personalities and anyways it’s kind of hard being around her and Kanaya bc they’re so cute it makes your teeth hurt.

Rose: She and Kanaya have matching floppy sun hats, they love laying out in the sun because Kanaya is a little nervous around water thanks to a certain sea-dweller *cough* eridan *cough*. Rose doesn’t mind, her swimsuits are more for show than swim anyways. She’s got some really cool and intricate goth-y ones and some nice lighthearted pastel ones, an orange and yellow fancy one-piece and a frilly lavender one. Rose has a new appreciation for sunlight but still religiously applies sunscreen because a home girl may be immortal, but fuck if she is gonna deal with any nasty sunburns after defeating the fucking embodiment of evil.

Kanaya: As previously stated, very nervous around water, but so so happy to be in the sun?? It’s not as bright as the one on Alternia which is fine because that means her troll friends can enjoy it too, but she’s literally just so happy to be around people that enjoy the sun the way she does because she’s felt wrong and different about it for years and she finally found someone that understands her ahhshshsjs. She designs all of Rose’s swimsuits and loves seeing her wear them. When it gets dark out, she likes to turn on the glow a little and all these cute little furry wingbeasts will flock to her?? “Those are moths” Rose tells her. “These are my children now” Kanaya pats Rose’s arm, they’re her children too because that’s how human marriage works she’s pretty sure

Dirk: Is so awkward oh my godddd, a little uncomfortable in his body actually? This boy might have muscle but he is all arms and legs and doesn’t know what to do with them because he’s never fuckifnfnfn been around people before. Doesn’t say “Marco” during Marco Polo, he just listens. Breath too loud? You’re tagged. Splash a little? Tagged. Move? Tagged. He’s never Marco for more than two minutes because he’s so in tune with his reflexes that no one even stands a chance. With Jake on his shoulders, they make a decent chicken team, but they’re too worried about each other to be effective. “You okay up there?” He wants to make sure. Someone is tipping Jake over oh no get him off my shoulders is he okay, oh he’s fine, yes I know how the game works Roxy, no Rose why don’t you get in the pool and do a better job before you come for me like that. Rose and Kanaya, in an extremely rare occurrence, do get in for a round of chicken. They beat Dirk and Jake almost immediately. They return to the deck. This never happened and we don’t speak of it.

Jake: Is bad at Marco Polo, he’s an amazing swimmer but he’s not…quiet. After growing up on that island, fighting and swimming, Jake is also Ripped as Heck. Dirk blushes his fucking ass off the first time he sees Jake shirtless. Jake acts all clueless like oh? What’s wrong Dirk? Is something the matter? But he knows exactly what he’s doing and if he’s subtly flexing in front of him, well. That can’t be helped. He may suck during chicken with Dirk, but with Jade on his shoulders? Hoo boy, they give Dave and John a run for their money. He is also John’s favorite to grab the feet of because his reactions are always so over the top with his phrasing. “Horsefeathers!” He grabs at his foot in panic because his first thought is it was one of the monsters from his island, then he sees it was just John who is laughing his ass off because, horse feathers? Really? “I say,” Jake huffs indignantly even though he’s smiling now. “Warn a fellow!”

Jane: Looks rockin’ in her swimsuits because she’s wearing the whole high waisted pinup style ones and?? She’s super gorgeous? Roxy makes sure to tell her that every five seconds just in case she forgets. She and Roxy make a decent chicken team, usually they’re laughing so hard by the end of it that whoever was on top can’t do anything and they fall off because they don’t care about winning they’re just having such a good time. She and Roxy take turns carrying Callie around when the water gets too deep, not that Callie needs to be above the water per se as she seems to have no trouble breathing, but it just makes everyone a little more comfortable and anyways Callie loves it.

Terezi: Killer at Marco Polo for obvious reasons, sometimes she gets tagged on purpose just to show off how quickly she can find people. The only person she’s never been able to get is John, he uses his windy powers to obscure his scent so she can’t “see” him. He is her Marco Polo white whale. One day, John, one day. She and Vriska are terrifying during chicken, Vriska will plow full speed towards the opposing team and Terezi is ready to Throw Hands. The most intense games are between them and John and Dave, both John and Terezi are on top and they fuckin battle it out so hard that Dave and even Vriska start to get nervous on the bottom.

Sollux: Says the water feels slimy. “No shit,” Karkat tells him. “It’s water you fucking shitstain.” Sollux cheats during chicken by using his psiionics to keep Karkat on his shoulders which only makes Karkat mad because he’s terrified of falling in and holy shit Sollux I don’t care what you think your powers are doing I’m gonna fall in fuck fuck fuck. “No I got you” Sollux assures him. He does not. Karkat is not got. Oh well. Sollux mostly likes chilling on inner tubes, plural. He has a blue one and a red one because he’s too tall to fit in just one. “Get a bigger inner tube” Karkat complains. “Perhaps get one of those long, recliner like ones?” Kanaya suggests. No. Sollux will use two inner tubes. He will make the sacrifice of comfort for his aesthetic.

2

I’m immortal and I’m suffering.
Why must I watch all those I love pass away
While I’m still here… living, breathing…

Married with Benefits (Part 12)

Summary: In order to not pay out-of-state tuition, you ask your friend, Steve Rogers, to marry you. Things, as always, never go as planned. (College AU)

Word Count: 861

“Married with Benefits” Masterlist 

Originally posted by skywalkersleia-archive


He ignored Bucky’s calls on his way back, his mind only focusing on you. Steve wanted to be close to you, wanted to hold you, wanted to be with you. There was no one else, there never had been. Sure, he had dated a few girls in college, but you had always stuck to the back of his mind and he was positive his relationships had been purposely tanked by himself because of his feelings for you.

He snorted. Personal sabotage. Who knew?

He opened your photo message again and looked at you, marveling at the sheer beauty of you. You were angelic, from your acne blemishes, to the small chicken pox scar you had under your right eye.

Keep reading

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.”

Keep reading

Dear rest of the Spn Fandom,

What Destiel is NOT about.

1. Hating Sam/Jared
Okay, I have no idea where this one started, but honestly I don’t care what you ship if you hate on either of my tol cinnamon roll babies, YOU WILL BE FACING MY WRATH. ALL 5'2 OF IT.

2. Hating the women that they were with.
Personally, I love Jo and Lisa. Cassie was just there for an episode, so I don’t really have any opinions on here.
I don’t like Meg for other reasons (her character inconsistency was annoying and her voice got on all my nerves) but hating her just because she kissed Cas is pretty shallow.

3. Two hot men kissing.
Right. This. Look, if the only reason that you ship them is that it would be hot to see them kiss, I’d just like to tell you that YER A FUCKBUTT, HARRY. Other people can probably explain this better, but you’re fetishising a whole community and you need to stop. Now.

4. Hating on their wives.
This is probably more of a Cockles thing than a Destiel one, but most of the Cockles shippers that I’ve encountered were all awesome people, so I’ll say it on their behalf, we don’t hate Danneel and Vicki, okay? Seriously, why would anybody, when they make Misha and Jensen so happy?

5. Making everything gay/The gay agenda
No. No. Say it with me, no. We do not ship them because they’re both men
We ship them because they have amazing chemistry and it makes sense that Dean and Cas be together. And it would obviously be the bisexual agenda, if it was an agenda. Which it’s not. At all. *Cackles in the distance*

• What Destiel is about

1. Unconditional Love
2. Dean finally realizing that he's​ not damaged and deserves love. Also realizimg that he’s not the perfect manly man soldier that John raised him to be, and that’s okay.
3. Cas understanding that he will always have a home with Dean (and Sam, by extension)
4. Two people who help each other to be better people.
5. Two people who constantly screw up, but forgive each other, because that’s what love is about.
6. Seeing people at their worst, and still loving them. (Dean forgiving Cas after he becomes God and Cas telling him that he deserves to be saved)
7. Unconditional love (I’m sorry, I’ll never be over the “I’d rather have you, cursed or not.”)
8. Both of them, giving up so much for each other.
9. Sticking up for each other

• Obviously I can’t speak for the entire fandom, but these are my views, and generally the views of people that I’ve encountered. Thanks for taking the time out to read it!

Sincerely,
A Destiheller

Ink and Kisses

Anon said to moi:

“Omg i want a tattoo artist jungkook!!!!!! 😭😩 smut/fluff/and honestly anything!!!! I just love tattoos artists jungkook but there aren’t alot of those fanfic…. can u help a poor girl out ??💖”

FIRst time trying a Tattoo artist AU. I had to do some reading before this, and JK is sO sexy i s2g. Still weird that I don’t really ever feel like doing the do with him. HOPE YOU ENJOY <3 1,400 Words

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Tattooist au!

Part 1 | Part 2 (FINAL)

Originally posted by nnochu

No one would have ever imagined that hardcore badass Jeon Jungkook, the most well-known tattoo artist in the town, the guy who dropped out to follow his passion, was best friends with beautiful, sweet, top-scoring university student, Y/N. 

Physically, they seemed to be polar opposites. He had dragons inked onto his skin, three piercings on his left ear and two on his right, and always wore black; whilst you were a bright, clean slate – but you knew that was what he loved about you.

Keep reading

thelonglostmarauder  asked:

Hey Thomas! Just watched your pride video and I loved it!!! I wanted to let you know, that you're one of the LGBT+ people that I'm currently looking up to. This video really made me smile and it made me feel a lot better about my sexuality and gender. Thank you so much.

I’m so so so glad you liked it. Honestly, I wanna do whatever I can with my platform to make it feel easier to accept oneself than it was for me growing up. I owe so much of that to my friends, and also to so many of you for helping me to realize it was okay to be more myself here too. So thank you so so SO much.

Angst/fluff Prompt List

Please don’t repost (stealing isn’t cool, but reblog if you wish) <3 <3

  1. “I love you, please don’t go.”
  2. “Stay here tonight.”
  3. “Please don’t walk out of that door.”
  4. “I thought things were going great.”
  5. “Don’t you love me?”
  6. “You make every day worth living.”
  7. “I’ll keep you warm.”
  8. “I’m never letting you go.”
  9. “You meant too much to me.”
  10. “I won’t let you.”
  11. “How could you ask me that?”
  12. “Don’t you trust me?”
  13. “I won’t let anyone hurt you, you’re safe with me.”
  14. “You look amazing tonight.”
  15. “Shouldn’t you be with him/her?”
  16. “I’ve got you.”
  17. “I can’t sleep, can I stay here?”
  18. “It’s late.  Shouldn’t you be asleep?”
  19. “How are you feeling today?”
  20. “You look amazing tonight.”
  21. “We’ll figure this out.”
  22. “This isn’t goodbye.”
  23. “What’s cookin’ good lookin’?”
  24. “Wanna go grab a drink?”
  25. “What the hell were you thinking?!”
  26. “Here, let me help you.”
  27. “Kiss me.”
  28. “I care about you.”
  29. “You could have warned me!”
  30. “That was unexpected.”
  31. “You haven’t lost me.”
  32. “Why are you doing this?”
  33. “Don’t cry.”
  34. “Please don’t do this.”
  35. “You make me feel safe.”
  36. “You’ve shown me what love can feel like.”
  37. “Thank you, for everything.”
  38. “All I wanted was for you to be happy.”
  39. “I can’t do this on my own.”
  40. “I wasn’t lying when I said that I loved you.”
  41. “Don’t be afraid.”
  42. “You’re always on my mind.”
  43. “You have no idea how much I want you right now.”
  44. “You’ve always felt like home.”
  45. “I can’t imagine this world without you.”
  46. “Dance with me.”
  47. “Trust me.”
  48. “Why are you crying?”
  49. “Who hurt you?”
  50. “Nothing is wrong with you.”
  51. “You make me feel alive.”
  52. “I wouldn’t change a thing about you.”
  53. “Who cares about what they think?”
  54. “Let’s go.”
  55. “I’m not going anywhere.”
  56. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
  57. “You’ve always got me.”
  58. “I’ve waited for this moment for a long time.”
  59. “Is this okay?”
  60. “You look like you could use a hug.”
  61. “Did you need something?”
  62. “Do you have a ride home?”
  63. “I am home.”
  64. “What happened back there?”
  65. “That’s not gonna happen.”
  66. “Why me?”
  67. “I’m right where I belong.”
  68. “Fine.”
  69. “What do you want me to say?”
  70. “After everything we’ve been through, you still don’t think that I love you?”
  71. “You’ve been drinking tonight, haven’t you?”
  72. “You need sleep.”
  73. “Excuse me?”
  74. “What are you doing?”
  75. “What did you expect?”
  76. “You’re not alone.”
  77. “We’re meant for each other.”
  78. “You’re worth it.”
  79. “I don’t care what anyone else thinks.”
  80. “I’ve always been honest with you.”
  81. “It’s cold, you should take my jacket.”
  82. “Just breathe, okay?”
  83. “When I’m with you, I’m happy.”
  84. “Going somewhere?”
  85. “Don’t lie to me.”
  86. “Don’t be scared, I’m right here.”
  87. “You’re so adorable.”
  88. “I’m better, now that you’re here.”
  89. “I could never forget you.”
  90. “Forget it.”
  91. “That’s in the past.”
  92. “You make me happy.”
  93. “You’re more than that.”
  94. “I won’t lose you too.”
  95. “Come cuddle.”
  96. “Can’t you stay a little longer?”
  97. “It’s not that easy.”
  98. “I’ve had enough.”
  99. “I fell in love with you, not them.”
  100. “You’re the only one I wanna wake up next to.”
You’re His Ex Girlfriend and You See His New Girlfriend Wearing Your T-Shirt: Part 2

Part 1

Masterlist linked in bio


Growing up, people told Y/n that you could die from a broken heart—that the stress on your heart strings could weaken, and all that’s left is the pain in your chest.

Y/n thought her heart would fail her, rupture all that’s left of her and leave her body to decompose. She believed that, if her broken heart wasn’t going to kill her, loneliness and lack of sleep would push her towards her end.

Moving on—something that seemed so simple yet so impossible for Y/n to do.

When the hurt in her chest and the hallucinations from exhaustion started to become too much for her to handle, she was willing to do anything to help herself. She started taking up yoga sessions, started writing music, even started cooking in an attempt to bring herself back from whatever hell she was in.

She even considered moving on; meeting a man at a bar and getting to know more about him rather than his drink order. But something seemed so wrong about that—something was unsettled inside of her at the thought of being with someone who wasn’t Harry.

The image of Jessica in Harry and Y/n’s t-shirt was enough to haunt her nearly every hour of the day. She started going mental, constantly wondering what they were doing together in the moments she was most vulnerable. She wondered about their love life, their future, their interests. She thought about everything.

It wasn’t until Gabby was determined to mend the broken girl raiding her house, finding any possible excuse to give her a sense of life again, that Y/n found the slightest bit of hope.

Y/n was losing it, entirely, and Gabby refused to continue being a bystander.

Gabby had set Y/n up on a blind date only a couple weeks back, practically begging her to seize every opportunity she possibly can to get over Harry. It was all Gabby could do to help her, considering nothing quite helped Y/n’s well-being since the breakup.


“Oh, he’s just so perfect!” Gabby squealed, clapping her hands before gripping tightly around Y/n’s wrists in excitement. “He’s gorgeous! Amazing blue eyes—breathtaking, really! And he’s so sweet, Y/n! I haven’t met a single person who’s disliked him and he’s such an amazing photographer! And his teeth! His teeth are marvelous! Do you know how hard it is nowadays to find a man with nice teeth? I mean—“

By then, Y/n had dozed off, and it wasn’t for any personal reason against Gabby; she’s appreciated every bit of hard work to help her through the heartbreak Y/n’s been dealing with nearly half of a year now. It’s just that she wasn’t ready to move on, not that she didn’t want to.

It had been nearly five months, which may seem like such an abundance of time to rid feelings for somebody, but did time really help moving on from someone she’d planned to spend the rest of her life with? It seemed nearly impossible. She could barely see herself looking at other men in a romantic sense, how could she see herself going on a date with somebody? Especially when she was still in love with somebody else?

She was biting the bullet with letting time heal her, but she felt that was the only way. Nothing more could help her. If anything, she believed dating would make it worse, if she were being honest.

But the look of excitement Gabby had at the mere thought of Y/n being happy again was something Y/n found nearly impossible to resist. Besides, she had definitely been overstaying her welcome at Gabby’s house no matter how much Gabby’s tried to deny it and has put so much stress onto her that maybe, just maybe, doing this one favor for all that she’s done for her.

“So, what do you say?”

Y/n blinked harshly when Gabby’s voice drowned out all the scrambled thoughts in her head, shaking her head slightly to regain her understanding of reality.

“What?”

“Monmouth Coffee Shop at noon tomorrow. Dan really wants to meet you, Y/n! Please!”

Y/n’s eyes widened, snapping her head up to meet Gabby’s hopeful eyes.

“The Monmouth?! Are you crazy?! That’s Harry’s favorite coffee shop, you know that! Dan and Harry probably know each other, that’s how much he goes there!”

Gabby’s eyes narrowed as her lips pursed, gaze directing toward the ceiling in thought.

“Harry? Harry who? I don’t remember who that is, never heard that name in my life.”

Her tone reeked with sarcasm, which made Y/n’s eyes nearly roll to the back of her head. As much as she wished Gabby’s negative remarks about Harry were comedic, there was always something about them that infuriated her. She always supposed it was the instinctual aspect of loving someone so much.

Gabby sighed as she reached her hand up to rub Y/n’s shoulder gently.

“Look,” she began, “you’re my best friend and I hate seeing you like this. You’re not the same Y/n I always knew, and I think you see yourself that way, too. And in all honesty, I don’t give a fuck about Harry anymore. As sadistic and twisted as it sounds, I don’t care about his emotions, or how he feels. He did this to you. He killed a part of you and I feel it’s my obligation to help you through this. So, please, go out with Dan tomorrow. He works at Monmouth, he’ll meet you before his shift starts at 1:30.”

Gabby’s arm slid off of Y/n’s shoulder at the shadow of uncertainty behind her eyes. Even though Gabby understood all the pain and hesitation, she didn’t want to see Y/n suffer another day. She just couldn’t.

“Please,” she whimpered, “Dan has been the only sense of hope I’ve gotten to make you happy again. Just do this one thing, please? And if it doesn’t work, then you can blame me. I’m just trying here.”

Y/n coughed slightly, her inability to say no wearing off of her at Gabby’s desperate pleads. It was an opportunity to turn things back around in her life, and if it didn’t go as planned, she really didn’t have anything more to lose.

She nods her head softly.

“Yeah—yeah, okay. I’ll meet him.”

Maybe this would be good for her.


Dan is lovely, always caring for Y/n and making sure she feels like loyalty whenever she’s around. He puts her first, in everything, and made a rule that the date can’t end until I hear you laugh at least six times.

It’s cute, really, how effortless he is at giving someone so much attention. Y/n likes it—loves it, even, but it still never feels right to her. She sees something with him, but nothing long term, not in the way she sees Harry.

But he’s good for her now, when she’s at her worst and needs someone to be there for her. He’s able to provide her with the company she desperately needs in order to cure the possible fatalities that came with her broken heart.

“Thank you for the coffee, it was great.” Y/n smiles softly, her cheeks blushing slightly as she traces the rim of her coffee cup.

It’s nearly their tenth date, and they still meet at the Monmouth at noon before his shift. It’s become a routine for them, meeting together at noon before Dan drops her off at the parking station. It became something they both looked forward to throughout their week, and soon became more of a tradition between them.

Dan grins, almost instinctively wrapping his arms around Y/n’s shoulders so that her head makes rest on his chest. He sighs, pressing a small kiss to the top of her head before resting his chin where his lips once were.

“Of course. I’ll be getting out at around 6 o‘clock so maybe I can stop by for a few? Maybe watch a movie?”

He knows the answer before she says it—his constant attempts to get closer to her always seeming to fail. There’s always a hesitation, or always an excuse to prevent them from being alone together.

He’s well aware that there are parts of her that need to be fixed, still being completely destructed by her ex-lover. He’s tried tirelessly to get her to open up and to trust him, but there’s a thick barrier still in their way of each other. It disheartens him, to know she refuses to let him in.

She sighs, guilt evident in her breath as she softly pushes away from him.

She does that often, he’s noticed it.

She feels horrible for doing so every time. Everything between them has remained stagnant, nothing being built so that nothing could be knocked down. It’s not that Y/n doesn’t trust him, it’s that Y/n doesn’t trust herself. She’s still in love with someone else, and she can’t hurt Dan—not in that way.

“I think I’m just going to—“

“Yeah, I know.” Dan nods, arms moving to cross at his chest, “I get it. Just like every other time.”

Y/n reaches her shaking fingers to brush her hair behind her ear, guilt flashing in her eyes as she refuses to meet his gaze. She’s familiar with the look he has on his face well enough to know he’s upset again, being constantly shut down by her.

“I’m so sorry, Dan.” She whispers, “But I’m trying. I want to keep trying with you. If you let me.”

He looks unconvinced, as he’s been hearing this for a while now. But something inside of him can’t quit her, no matter how much his intuition tells him she’s a dead end. Maybe he feels sorry for her on a level he’s never felt sorrow for somebody else. No matter how much she hides it, she really does need him. Not in a romantic level, but she does need him to show her that he cares for her and that he’ll always be there. She needs that sense of security, and he’s the only one that can provide it for her.

“Yeah,” he nods, “we can keep trying. It’s okay, I’m here for you.“


Harry had been living in his studio for the past couple of weeks. It certainly wasn’t ideal, but it was much better than sleeping on his and Y/n’s bed—alone.

That’s all he’s felt since their break up—lonely. It’s quite strange, considering Harry had millions of supporters, an entire band throughout his solo career, and producers around him nearly every hour of the day. He used to complain that he never had alone time anymore, that between all the constant traveling and being at the peak of his career, it was hard to find time for himself.

But now, in the midst of everything happening in his life, he wishes to feel that sort of hustle again.

Y/n was the person that kept him grounded through everything. She was the one consistency in his life, which gave him all the more reasons to love her. Whenever he was overwhelmed with the pressure put on him, or feeling homesick during his travels, she was always the one to keep him at bay and give him a sense of clarity.

Home hadn’t become a house, instead, Y/n’s heart. Wherever she was, he felt at home. Even when she was half way across the world, it was her voice that brought him back and reminded him that, no matter how much he missed the walls of familiarity, home was always a phone call away. She gave him that sense of comfort everywhere she went, it was truly amazing.

And when he broke up with Y/n, he didn’t think of how much everything around him would be affected. He thought time would do them best—would help mend the relationship that seemed to be collapsing beneath their feet. Their connections were lost, replaces by uncomfortable silences and unbarring arguments.

He didn’t think of the consequences when he did it. He didn’t think about how lost he’d become, or how he had no place to call home, or how there was no consistency in his life anymore. There were so many aspects of his life that Y/n had given him—so much of them that he didn’t realize until she moved out.

It was the exact reason he started dating Jessica. She was a great distraction, a beautiful woman to take his mind off of everything.

They weren’t much of anything. Nothing about them was exclusive besides what the media saw of them: boyfriend and girlfriend moving in together in London. It was far from the truth, really. He was with her to terminate his dry spell and rid his loneliness, and she was with him because he infatuated her.

He ended it all, though, that same morning Y/n found Jessica wearing their shirt. The entire incident gave him a realization; that nobody could fill his void like Y/n did.

The fear of losing her forever and making her believe he was in love with somebody else was enough to break him out of his selfish ways. She had been waiting for him for months, and when he returned, he wasn’t the same man he was.

Not only did Harry know that Y/n lost all her faith in him—he lost all faith in himself, as well.


“I’m so screwed, Nick. I fucked up everything. Everything.”

Harry was laying with his back flat against the studio couch, hands rubbing down his face as he tried to steady his harsh breathing.

It was just after he had run into Y/n at the grocery store, where she had seen Jessica wearing Harry and Y/n’s t-shirt. Although he was practically mute during the encounter, everything hit him at once after Y/n and Gabby walked out.

He called Nick in a hurry, incoherent and completely disoriented from the tears he’d broken down into. Everything he thought would be mended completely fell down on them—all because of him.

“Jessica was wearing the shirt with the—fuck, you know the shirt, and Y/n saw and she was such a mess, Nick. I didn’t even say anything to her, she was practically begging me to say something and I didn’t say a word.”

Nick sat cross-armed on one of the chairs, directly across from Harry. He wished he could have felt remorse seeing Harry in such distress, however, he never agreed with Harry’s actions and made it clear numerous times. In his eyes, this was karma’s ticking time bomb.

“You tend to be a real jackass sometimes, you know that?”

Harry lifted himself up so that he could sit properly. His body slumped against the back of the couch, head rested in his palm as he coughed uncomfortably at Nick’s choice of words.

“You let go of the best thing that’s ever happened to you and then you just move on, as if she meant nothing, and you think you just fucked it all up now? Over the goddamn t-shirt?”

Harry scowled at him.

“I haven’t moved on, and it’s more than just a t-shirt, you know that. That was ours.” Harry defended, glaring over at his direction.

“So why was Jessica wearing it after you fucked her on the bed you and Y/n shared every night for the past three years?”

Something about Nick’s words gave Harry a foul taste in his mouth. As much as he wished Nick didn’t say it in that way, that’s exactly what Harry did, and knowing he had to live with that for the rest of his life made his stomach flip inside of him.

He really did fuck it up. Nothing he did was excusable, nothing he did was forgivable. He betrayed the one woman he loved so dearly—the one woman he’d always consider his soulmate. He really, really fucked it up.

He gulped as he tried to find words to justify himself. There was really nothing he could say.

“She—she had just put it on while I was sleeping and when—when I noticed she just wouldn’t shut up about breakfast and I couldn’t just be like ‘Hey, Jess, could you take off that shirt? That belonged to me and my ex-girlfriend and I don’t appreciate it?’ How could I do that?”

He sighed, leaning his face into the palm of his hands as he looked back onto his experiences with Jessica. Was it all worth it? Was she really worth all of this?

“She means nothing to me, Nick. I lost the girl I love for somebody who doesn’t mean anything to me.” He whispered, “How do I live knowing that?”


It’s nearly two in the afternoon when Harry finally decides to leave his studio. He’s been working on some songs he found himself writing during his free time, something he found therapeutic throughout the past couple of months.

Recording and writing have become the only distractions that seem to work for Harry. Everything else became temporary. Writing out his emotions and singing the words he wishes he could say has been the only sense of closure he’s had in a while.

“Dan! Long time no see!” Harry smiles when he enters Monmouth, a familiar face being something he finds so relieving.

Dan looks up from his register, reaching over the counter to give Harry a hug as he greets him enthusiastically.

“Haven’t seen you in quite a while. On your lunch break?”

Harry nods as his eyes squint, reaching for the back of his neck as he reads over the menu.

“Yeah, kind of in a hurry today if you don’t mind. Can I just get a medium coffee with almond milk, please? And a slice of apple pie, feeling kind of brisk today.”

Dan works his fingers across the cash register, yelling out his order to the barista before making small talk about the weather. Considering Harry hasn’t been seen in Monmouth nearly as much as he used to, they both found it nice to catch up with each other for the short while they’ve been distanced.

When Dan reaches over to give Harry his spare change, an all too familiar silver ring catches his attention immediately. At first glance, he swears his heart stopped beating.

There’s no way, there’s just no way that could be the ring Harry gave to Y/n. Dan and Y/n have never met before, considering she had only visited here a handful of times during Harry’s lunch break. And even then, she would just stand patiently by the door while Harry waited to retrieve his order.

There’s just no way, but the top of the rose has a particular rust on it that resembles Harry’s perfectly—and no matter how long it’s been since he’s seen it, he’ll never forget what it looks like.

Harry’s hand grips onto Dan’s wrist instead of reaching out to grab the spare change laying upon his palm, flipping over his hand to inspect the silver ring snug almost too perfectly around his finger. He’s aggressive, movements harsh and face tight with anger, but at this point in time, the last thing Harry’s worried about is Dan’s slightly intimidated composure.

“Where did you get this?”

Unlike his demeanor, his voice is soft and breaking between each word. There’s an unrecognizable shift in his eyes when he sees the wear and tear Harry knows he caused before gifting it to Y/n. This is most definitely his, and knowing Y/n was the one who gave it to him makes him nearly throw up all the contents in his stomach.

“Girlfriend gave it to me,” Dan smiles “well, not really my girlfriend yet. But you know how they are. I told her I liked it and she insisted I have it.”

Harry swallows the lump in his throat, making him nearly whimper when he opens his mouth to speak.

He’s never felt so much pain before. The breaking that was once only in his heart spread like wildfire across every bone and ligament in his body. It burns, the sudden realization that Y/n has a boyfriend, that Y/n is no longer going to be there—waiting for him—the way he always expected her to be, that Y/n has taken it upon herself to seek revenge on him so that he can feel everything she felt that one Sunday morning at the grocery store.

And it’s then he realizes that this is nothing compared to everything he’s put her through. In his favor, this is just a stupid ring her gave her for her birthday because he loved the way she twisted it around his finger. It didn’t have much value between them, just something small they shared. He couldn’t imagine the hurt he would have now, standing her, if Dan were wearing their Lover t-shirt.

“Wh—What’s her name?”

His voice is in a whisper now, only the slightest bit of hope draining from his body when he hears Dan speak again.

“Y/n. She’s a good girl, you’d like her.”

Harry almost laughs. You’d like her. He has no idea, he’s in love with her.

It’s as if every part of Harry’s body begins to shut down. Maybe it’s from the shock, or the overbearing pain he feels in his chest, but he suddenly begins to feel lightheaded. His muscles turn numb and all his orientation seems to scramble as if he’s intoxicated.

Dan’s eyes narrow when he sees all the color drain from his face, his eyes widened and soaked with tears. He watches as he nearly falls backward, only to balance himself with his foot when he takes a proper step away from the counter.

“Harry? Harry, you alright?”

Never fucking say my name again is the first proper thought that his brain can register. But his throat is tight and his tongue is numb. He attempts to take a breath of air, but he feels like his lungs are collapsing in his chest, preventing him from doing anything besides stumble uncoordinatedly out of the Monmouth doors.

He’s falling apart—that’s exactly what it feels like. He feels like every limb is falling from his body as he walks towards his car. He doesn’t know exactly how he’s moving, even if he’s stumbling on his own two feet and colliding into stranger’s bodies as he does so, he doesn’t understand how his body finds the strength to keep moving.

Y/n moved on. Y/n’s dating Dan. Y/n gave his ring to him. It’s all over, everything is over.

“No” he mumbles frantically, jealously flowing in his veins, chest heaving from the sobs that are threatening to spill out of him, “no, no no no.”

He starts to wonder where he’s missed it, and exactly how long it’s been since Y/n moved on. She was so broken at the grocery store the other week; what could have possibly altered her feelings that quickly? Did Dan really impact her that much?

But that’s his girl. Y/n is his girl, she’s the one he was so sure he was going to spend the rest of his life with. Even with Jessica, even with everything that’s happened, Y/n is his soulmate, and there isn’t anything in the world that can convince him otherwise.

Nobody is going to take her from him. He refuses to believe she belongs to somebody that isn’t him; there isn’t an atom in his body that doubts their companionship.

Before he thinks twice—before he really gives himself a chance to stop himself—Harry slides his cell phone out of his back pocket once he reaches his car. He slumps against the hood as his fingers work furiously across his screen.

There has to be something, at least some sort of proof that this is really happening to him, that this isn’t in a nightmare he can easily wake himself out of. There had to have been a hint, a warning for him to have. She would have never moved on without saying something to him. They were so strong together, she would have never left without closure.

Nothing about it makes sense.

And then, he sees it.

He falls to his knees, hitting the concrete harshly below him. His body gave out from beneath him, his muscles and bones failing him.

It’s there, right in front of him, mocking him and all the shitty decisions he’s made. It’s there—on Y/n’s private Instagram page—a picture of Dan holding Y/n’s hand on top of a table in Monmouth, Harry’s ring wrapped perfectly around his pointer finger.

Steele rose has never looked so good xx.