take out a loan

anonymous asked:

I want to live by myself when I move out of my parent's place but I'm really afraid of money problems? I'm afraid that the only place I can afford will be in the ghetto and it'll all be torn apart and I'll only be allowed to eat one granola bar a week. I'm really stressing out about this. I don't know anything about after school life. I don't know anything about paying bills or how to buy an apartment and it's really scaring me. is there anything you know that can help me?

HI darling,

I’ve actually got a super wonderful masterpost for you to check out:







Better You




Job Hunting

Life Skills



Travel & Vehicles

Other Blog Features

Asks I’ll Probably Need to Refer People to Later

Adult Cheat Sheet:

Once you’ve looked over all those cool links, I have some general advice for you on how you can have some sort of support system going for you:

Reasons to move out of home

You may decide to leave home for many different reasons, including:

  • wishing to live independently
  • location difficulties – for example, the need to move closer to university
  • conflict with your parents
  • being asked to leave by your parents.

Issues to consider when moving out of home

It’s common to be a little unsure when you make a decision like leaving home. You may choose to move, but find that you face problems you didn’t anticipate, such as:

  • Unreadiness – you may find you are not quite ready to handle all the responsibilities.
  • Money worries – bills including rent, utilities like gas and electricity and the cost of groceries may catch you by surprise, especially if you are used to your parents providing for everything. Debt may become an issue.
  • Flatmate problems – issues such as paying bills on time, sharing housework equally, friends who never pay board, but stay anyway, and lifestyle incompatibilities (such as a non-drug-user flatting with a drug user) may result in hostilities and arguments.

Your parents may be worried

Think about how your parents may be feeling and talk with them if they are worried about you. Most parents want their children to be happy and independent, but they might be concerned about a lot of different things. For example:

  • They may worry that you are not ready.
  • They may be sad because they will miss you.
  • They may think you shouldn’t leave home until you are married or have bought a house.
  • They may be concerned about the people you have chosen to live with.

Reassure your parents that you will keep in touch and visit regularly. Try to leave on a positive note. Hopefully, they are happy about your plans and support your decision.

Tips for a successful move

Tips include:

  • Don’t make a rash decision – consider the situation carefully. Are you ready to live independently? Do you make enough money to support yourself? Are you moving out for the right reasons?
  • Draw up a realistic budget – don’t forget to include ‘hidden’ expenses such as the property’s security deposit or bond (usually four weeks’ rent), connection fees for utilities, and home and contents insurance.
  • Communicate – avoid misunderstandings, hostilities and arguments by talking openly and respectfully about your concerns with flatmates and parents. Make sure you’re open to their point of view too – getting along is a two-way street.
  • Keep in touch – talk to your parents about regular home visits: for example, having Sunday night dinner together every week.
  • Work out acceptable behaviour – if your parents don’t like your flatmate(s), find out why. It is usually the behaviour rather than the person that causes offence (for example, swearing or smoking). Out of respect for your parents, ask your flatmate(s) to be on their best behaviour when your parents visit and do the same for them.
  • Ask for help – if things are becoming difficult, don’t be too proud to ask your parents for help. They have a lot of life experience.

If your family home does not provide support

Not everyone who leaves home can return home or ask their parents for help in times of trouble. If you have been thrown out of home or left home to escape abuse or conflict, you may be too young or unprepared to cope.

If you are a fostered child, you will have to leave the state-care system when you turn 18, but you may not be ready to make the sudden transition to independence.

If you need support, help is available from a range of community and government organisations. Assistance includes emergency accommodation and food vouchers. If you can’t call your parents or foster parents, call one of the associations below for information, advice and assistance.

Where to get help

  • Your doctor
  • Kids Helpline Tel. 1800 55 1800
  • Lifeline Tel. 13 11 44
  • Home Ground Services Tel. 1800 048 325
  • Relationships Australia Tel. 1300 364 277
  • Centrelink Crisis or Special Help Tel. 13 28 50
  • Tenants Union of Victoria Tel. (03) 9416 2577

Things to remember

  • Try to solve any problems before you leave home. Don’t leave because of a fight or other family difficulty if you can possibly avoid it.
  • Draw up a realistic budget that includes ‘hidden’ expenses, such as bond, connection fees for utilities, and home and contents insurance.
  • Remember that you can get help from a range of community and government organizations. 


Keep me updated? xx

Dungeons and Dragons is the perfect hobby for millennials

- it doesn’t require any further expenses after the book and dice
- you don’t need to take out a massive loan to learn how to play
- you can use technology/internet to organise meetings and make your game better for free
- you can make your character anything you want without bigots judging you
- old people listen to you if you roll high enough
- your character’s actions can actually have an effect on their world
- it transports you to a world where donald trump, brexit and climate change don’t exist, which is all any of us want really

Once there was a man named Mr. Paddiwak. Mr. Paddiwak worked at a bank, and he was a very good banker indeed.

One day, a frog hopped into the bank and right up on to Mr. Paddiwak’s desk.

“Hello!” the frog said cheerfully “I’m here to take out a loan, the woman on the desk said you could help me?”

Mr. Paddiwak frowned a little, and then said

“Well, perhaps I might be able to help. Do you have anything to offer for collateral?”

The frog nodded and offered up a paperweight in the shape of an elephant.

“Will this do?” He asked, and Mr. Paddiwak frowned again

“I’m not sure. It’s certainly…unusual. Let me ask my manager” and Mr. Paddiwak excused himself to speak to his manager

“Excuse me sir” Mr. Paddiwack said knocking on his manager’s door “I have a frog here who wants to take out a loan, but all he has to offer up for collateral is this elephant shaped paperweight. Does that qualify?“

The manage looked up at Mr. Paddiwak and said gruffly

"It’s a knick-knack, Paddiwak! Give the frog a loan!”

Case Closed (Jungkook x Reader)

Admin: Candi
Request: Can i request a rough jungkook smut? Thx btw.. – anon”
Fandom: BTS
Member/reader: Jungkook x Reader
Genre: Smut, Lawyer!AU
Warnings: Smoking, language, hair pulling, daddy kink, spitting, slapping, choking
Words: 3.6k
Authors note: O this is a treat for all you jungkook stans, hope you enjoy it and lemme know what you think. Thank you! Also I ain’t a lawyer so don’t judge my case scene lmao.

           As a child you always thought you’d end up being a vet, then during your teens you wanted to be a tattoo artist since you entered the rebellious phase at that stage. Throughout the years you never saw yourself as a lawyer but here you are, your first case was happening today and you were going against the most respected and feared lawyer in the company. His name was Jungkook and he always won every case. You wanted to kick your boss in the teeth for putting you up against Jungkook for your first ever case but you were also quite flattered knowing that your boss thought you’re good enough to go against Jungkook.

           The case has been going on for a few months, your client was a victim of identity fraud and Jungkook was defending the person who did it. If the judge had any common sense you’d easily win the case but it’s not about that, it’s about knowledge and confidence, it’s much like having a debate; the more facts you put forward the more likely you’ll win.

Keep reading

Sex Workers: YES, you're a Whore.

You know what baffles me about girls who have barely entered the industry?

The first moment when they experience degradation for being a whore. Listen girl, listen good. You ARE a whore. You MUST understand and accept this BEFORE going in. None of this “Ohhhh if I’m a sugar baby, I’m not really a whore. I’m just dating wealthy men….for financial advantage and letting them fuck me."🙄🙄😑😑

What does it mean to understand your identity as a whore?

It means you’re a female no longer constrained by our massive slut-shaming society, and would rather do what it takes to be able to walk in ANY restaurant in the world and not worry about the price on any goddamn item you so desire. It means if your loved one suddenly got ill, you can come up with cash to pay for the best medical treatments for them without taking out a loan. It means you will probably be one of the handful of your classmates who won’t have a student loan hanging over them for the next several decades. It means YOU ARE NO LONGER A VICTIM FOR FUCK BOYS.

These vanilla women will go out of their way to shame you while their sexual partners have them saved as "Ashley OKC” from that one really drunken night. He wouldn’t even be able to pick her out of a lineup in less than a year. Also the same women whose idea of a “spoiled and romantic” date is at a pizza parlor. They will glorify being a “ride or die” chick for men out there hiring us on the low.

These men who have no problems watching AND ENJOYING women get violated, beaten or brutally gangbanged on their screens will be the first to say “So you fuck for money?” with a shocked look of disgust on their faces. The same type of men who’ll order cheap kegs of beer and VIOLA; strippers for their bachelor parties.

You girls need to wake the fuck up.

Why are you letting insecure and dumb as shit females or lying, cheating and manipulating men dictate YOUR standard of self-respect and morals?

Know what it REALLY means to be a whore and OWN IT….with your rent being paid, nails being done, delicacies on your dinner plates, and a smile on your face for no longer wasting your time on bullshit men that don’t enrich your life in any way.


Every time someone insults me with something like that, I reply “Hm, Is it fulfilling having to figure out the food budget for each month?”

Make that money and stay safe, ladies. 💸💸💸

anonymous asked:

Can you do a fic where the sides want to make Virgil laugh so they try different things but only tickling him works?

Laughter is the Best Medicine

Fandom: Sanders Sides
Pairings: (not sure how to tag it, so) LAMP, Moxiety, Analogical, Prinxiety
Warnings: None

Summary: The Sides compete to hear Virgil laugh.
A/N: Pun source
Edit: Alternate Ending

Tagged: @existental-crises​​ @here-to-vent@jordisama

Patton had made the realization a week ago: none of them had ever heard Virgil laugh.  Snickers aside, he’d never actually laughed in front of any one of them. Patton had presented his finding to Virgil, looking for some kind of solace, but instead he’d just gotten a noncommittal shrug.

“Yeah? So?”  He said as he lounged on the stairs, pulling at the loose threads of his sleeves.

“Sooo we’ve gotta hear you laugh!  I bet it’s a wonderful laugh and I’d love to hear it sometime.”  Patton looked into Virgil’s eyes hopefully, shoulders tensing in anticipation as Virgil leaned closer.  He opened his mouth and after a short pause, spoke softly into Patton’s ear.

“Say something funny and maybe I will.”

Patton’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “Well I’m loads funny!”

“Sorry, Pat,” Virgil said, leaning back on his elbows, sounding entirely unapologetic. “It’s gotta be funny in the moment or it isn’t happening.  Or–” he gasped, “what if I can’t laugh?”  He said mockingly, covering his mouth with false disbelief.

“Oh, stop it, you goof,” Patton said, swatting lightly at Virgil’s knee.  “We’ll hear that laugh sooner or later, just you wait.”  Virgil shrugged again and Patton turned on his heel, stomping away to start planning schemes to make Virgil laugh.

Keep reading

You’re Anorexic

*Trigger warning 

A/N: This was a very difficult piece for me to write. Please keep in mind that I am no professional and, by any means, mean no offense to anybody with eating disorders. If any part of this imagine is offensive or taken personally, please message me.

If you are suffering through something this fatal, please contact help as soon as possible. 

- masterlist linked in bio


It’s a funny concept for Y/n. Between every hour and every minute of the day, there lays a purpose. Every second counts, whether it determines the rest of your life or destroys what’s left of it. For those, time goes quickly or barely passes at all- has no beginning nor end.

It’s relied heavily on, because we all die one day or another, unexpectedly or anticipated, and if a second of time is wasted, it haunts us until our dying days.

Time is the one true consistency in everyone’s life.

When Y/n was younger, time meant everything. She counted the days till her birthday, counted down the seconds to the new year, and dated every special event she could think of. She believed that every second of her life mattered so greatly, that everything she had once known could change in a blink of an eye. Days were filled with bliss, anticipation for what the future held for her. Because she wasn’t getting any younger, and all she could think about how she was one second- a millisecond, even- away from her life giving her a new purpose.

It wasn’t until summer of 2012 when all of her greatest expectations were destroyed in a blink of an eye.

Y/n lost her father.

It happened so suddenly, an unexpected collision during the early hours of the morning. Y/n was home at the time, locked away in her room because she had an argument with him earlier on that night. Because the money situation was tight, it was impossible for Y/n to attend her top choice university. She insisted that she’d take out loans from the bank and pay every bit of tuition herself, but he refused.

She felt as if all her time and effort has been wasted. Of course, there were other schools, but Y/n was too stubborn and so set on attending this university that they didn’t matter half as much as the one she worked for.

She spewed out words she didn’t mean, anger and frustration boiling up inside of her. She had worked so hard for this moment- had worked so hard to make her parents and herself proud, but it all blew up in her face. She had never been so upset before, and it was the first time in a while she started to raise her voice and cry to try and get her way. She would have done anything, even if it meant insulting her father.

He pleaded for her to settle down, because no matter where she ended up, she’d always make him proud. But she wasn’t having it.

“I never want to talk to you again.”

Of course she didn’t mean it, but she just felt so betrayed. And because of how sensitive she was, she knew the grudge she was holding against him was going to last a while.

Already late for his meeting, he sighed and placed a delicate kiss on her forehead, the way he always did whenever they were in an argument. It was to show that he still loved her, that he’ll always love her, even when times seemed rough.

“I’m so sorry, love bug. We’ll discuss this with your mother once I get back from my meeting.“

It wasn’t until a couple hours later her mom called her.

She was sobbing, her words jumbled and breath so harsh Y/n could barely understand a word she was saying. All she managed to hear was “your father” and “car accident,” and it was all she needed to understand that her father hadn’t made it. He was never going to come back home.

Y/n spent the next couple of months trying to cope with his loss. She didn’t understand what it meant to lose somebody forever, she never experienced that kind of pain before. It was too much for her, living without her father and watching her mother slowly turn into a lifeless woman.

The only way to cope with all of the pain was to stop eating.

She didn’t know exactly how it helped, but it did. She saw it as a punishment against herself, for saying such horrible things to her father and having him believe she truly never wanted to speak to him again. She didn’t blame herself for his loss, but she carried a horrendous amount of guilt upon herself. So, she began to skip meals, which wasn’t hard because she could barely stomach the thought of food while she was as depressed as she was. And what started off as a coping mechanism turned into something much more fatal.

Now, time means nothing to her, filled with an empty void. Every minute is another minute of being alone- another minute closer to her end. She sits, stares at the wall clock hung perfectly in Ms. Carter’s office, and watches as it passes with every breath she takes.

“Y/n..” Ms. Carter mumbles, looking down at her watch to calculate just how much time has been wasted since their session began.

“Are you ever going to speak?” she questions with an exasperated sigh, long past her patience because all of their recent sessions have consisted of unanswered questions and the same dismal look displayed on Y/n’s face.

Y/n makes no effort to answer her. Her legs stay crossed indian-style in front of her, picking at a hangnail that’s been bothering her the past couple of days. She hasn’t moved since the appointment started, staying in the same position as Ms. Carter asked her questions Y/n was hardly paying attention to.

She’s well aware she’s wasting Ms. Carter’s time. She could be guiding other clients toward the help they need, or simply listening to someone’s troubles other than the horns honking outside and the agonizing sound of the clock ticking further toward the next hour.

Hell, she’s even convinced that she’d be wasting her own time, as well, if it weren’t for the emptiness in her heart. This is the only place Y/n has somebody. Everyone in her life left her, unable to deal with the constant struggle of her eating disorder. Her family, friends, boyfriends; all of them had left her. What was once an attempt to help Y/n recover from her disorder turned into a part time job for them; a constant occupation in their lives to deal with her.

If it was their choice, they probably would have left sooner than they did. But they all gave her pity, only remaining in her life because they felt another person leaving her would push her to the edge- would push her into something far more fatal. Some left without a word, others left with a rehearsed speech about how they didn’t want to see her suffer, that they couldn’t bare the sight of her bones sticking from her body. They couldn’t help her anymore, because they didn’t understand, and they barely have their own lives figured out, so how could they figure out hers? They finished their speeches with a sympathetic apology, saying that they’d still be there for her if she needed them. But they didn’t mean it. She knew they didn’t mean it.

A year and a half into her disorder, with nobody by her side, with not a soul left to help her recover, someone saved her.


When he started to get to know her- to listen to her story- he had never felt more remorse for somebody the way he had with her. Such a beautiful and sweet woman has been torturing herself for years all because of the amount of guilt she had at such a young age. He couldn’t begin to imagine what she’s been through, all the pain and hardship she’s endured throughout er life.

She was so lovely, as well, he fell in love with her the moment she started opening up to him. It was easy for the both of them, to talk to one another, simply because there was instant connection none of them could deny. They fit into each other’s lives perfectly, as if filling up the emptiness they both had.

Harry dedicated every part of his life to her, with not a single complaint hanging from his lips. He loved her in ways nobody else had loved her before. He showed it by staying with her, through all the horrible battles she faced. He was patient with her, putting up with her fight against food and reassuring her when she wanted to throw it all up. He was there every step toward her recovery and every step toward her relapses.

It took a long while for her to finally recover. She was eating again; she was healthy again. Her skin glowed with an olive undertone, hair so soft Harry found it irresistible not to touch. Her once twisted thoughts altered to an optimistic mindset. The once beautiful girl he once known developed into an ethereal woman, convinced he was going to spend the rest of his faithful life with her.

If it weren’t for Harry, she wouldn’t have recovered. When he came into her life, she made every promise to herself and to Harry that she would overcome this. She’d continue her battle for them, because she now had a reason to fight. Her love for Harry pushed her to be the woman she became. He changed her- he saved her.

But a year into her recovery, something changed between them.

Something changed in him.

She never felt his love like she used to. He was barley there for her. When he’d come home from work, he wouldn’t call out for her anymore. Even though they were together, she began to feel lonely again. Y/n was convinced he had stopped loving her. She stayed up countless nights, without him, wondering what she did wrong. He didn’t hold her anymore, not like he used to. Before, he’d always hold her, because his arms were her sanctuary and his chest was a bed made specially for her head. His lips only lingered on her cheek or forehead, not in the way they used to. Before, he’d always kiss her lips, because he said he swore his lips were compelled to love hers and said he was always hungry for her love. She fell asleep feeling empty, not in the way she had before. Before, amongst falling asleep, he’d be inside of her, hips colliding with hers because he praised her, and said he’d never love the way he loved her.

But it all ended so suddenly, there was no warning.

She began to feel what she felt with everyone else- neglected.

She felt it was because she recovered. When she was battling her disorder, he loved her because he felt he had to. She had nobody else. Her family had given up on her, her friends left her, and she was left with absolutely nothing. He came at a time she needed someone most. At that point, she was prepared to die, there was no helping it. He was her lifeline, her only dependency, and that’s why he had stopped loving her. He didn’t need to love her anymore.

“I- I don’t quite know what to say.” Y/n mumbles.

She wishes she could tell Ms. Carter everything about it. She wishes she could talk to her like she was supposed to; trust her and open up to her to help her with her recovery. But if she does, she knows Ms. Carter would have to take her to a rehabilitation center. And Y/n wanted absolutely nothing to do with that.

Ms. Carter nods, lips pursing as she places her notebook down of her wooden coffee table. She crosses her legs and arms, back moving to rest upon the black velvet seat she always sits in during her sessions.

“Then why do you come to me, Y/n?” she asks softly, watching as Y/n moves her eyes slowly to her. “If you don’t know what to say, why are you here?”

She shrugs, arms moving to hug her knees to her chest. She rests her chin gently on her knee cap, eyes trained on the window directly in front of her. She watches as cars move during the rush hour, people walking on the sidewalks with a premeditated destination. She envies those who thrive, for she lacks motivation to accomplish her ambitions.

“This is all I have.”

Ms. Carter blinks at her confession, interlocking her fingers together while nodding her head.

She knows Y/n has been different the past couple months. Normally, Y/n talks about her relationship with Harry, how he’s been her biggest step toward her recovery. She talked about how great she’d feel, but was, nonetheless, worried she’ll eventually relapse and disappoint him.

Ms. Carter has had suspicions that Y/n is going through another relapse. However, she knew that if she was, that Harry was by her side at home. It was one of the many reasons she hadn’t taken major actions to help her through it. She knew Harry would do her more help than her, but Y/n kept scheduling appointments that she couldn’t deny.

“And what about Harry?” She asks timidly, “Is he helping you through this time, Y/n?”

Y/n’s eyes flutter shut at his name. Her hands shake as her fingers pull down the sleeves of her sweatshirt, tugging them all the way so that her hands are completely covered by the material.

“Not anymore.” She whispers.

Y/n’s eyes divert to Ms. Carter’s cautious gaze. Her mouth is slightly parted, almost shocked at the confession she made. Ms. Carter knows the only thing that guided her was Harry. He was her rock and support through her entire fight, and with the possibility of his departure comes the possibility of Y/n going back to where it all began.

“Are you- are you still eating, Y/n?”

Her eyes go back to the window.

Another question left unanswered.

The weather outside is making Harry miserable. So miserable, in fact, he’s refused to move from his spot on the couch for the past four hours.

The house is dark for the mid-afternoon, the gloomy weather making it nearly feel like a funeral home. With no motivation to go outside and finding it oddly comfortable to wallow, he can’t help but to keep his eyes trained on the television show playing in front of him. It’s Y/n’s favorite show- one they watched nearly every Saturday afternoon because that’s when CW aired the marathon.

He still watches it every Saturday. A part of him can’t let the tradition go. He’s somehow convinced himself that maybe, just maybe, she couldn’t, either, and they are some how both watching it at the same time in two different places. Gemma tells him that she probably does the same, as well, but he should try to move on from her; that staying in the house and only doing things that remind him of her is going to edge him to insanity. But oddly, consuming his days with things that remind him of her keep him as sane as he can possibly be.

He sighs, clammy fingers tugging at the roots of his hair as he looks down at his phone for what must have been the twentieth time today. His thumb hovers over her contact number, twitching as he begins to contemplate whether to call her or not. It’s been months since he’s seen her, let alone talked to her. Every second without knowing how she’s doing kills him more and more each time.

To say Harry’s been worried is an understatement. He’s completely petrified.

For the past couple of years, Harry has been through it all with Y/n. He’s seen her at her worst, was there to witness her greatest and most disastrous downfalls and stood by her side during her most amazing recoveries. He’s seen her in all her forms of terrible glory, with bones sticking from her skin and bruises covering her arms and legs. He’s watched her as people began to leave her one by one- a bystander of a broken girl being neglected by her loved ones. He’s seen her fantasize about her end and watched as pain settled in her eyes.

And he just can’t shake the feeling that everything Y/n has built up to her recovery has been knocked down again.

He can’t stomach the thought of her looking the way she did when they first met. He doesn’t even want to think about what she’s been putting herself up against since his departure.

For the first month after their breakup, Harry had called Y/n everyday to make sure she was eating properly. He’d call her before bed, asking numerous questions about her diet and her therapy sessions. What did you eat today? How much did you eat? Was Ms. Carter nice? How are you feeling? It was a routine that was able to keep both of them sane during their separation.

It didn’t last long, however, when Y/n started to finally realize she wasn’t able to move on. Between the constant reminder that she didn’t have anybody there for her anymore and his constant phone calls, she found it impossible to move on from him.

Y/n also began to feel upset that Harry had broke things off with her but still had the audacity to call her. She understood what he was doing. She understood that he was showing her that he still cared and worried for her, but the fact that the only effort he had put into taking care of her was through a phone call made Y/n feel like a charity case.

“I just can’t do this anymore, Harry” she muttered softly to the phone, her fingers halfheartedly fiddling with the corner of the duvet, “You can’t keep calling me when we aren’t dating.”

His heart fell to the pit of his stomach. Calling her before bed was a routine to him now. Talking to her was able to keep him sane, because he was getting the reassurance he needed to know she was doing okay.

In all honesty, he didn’t know if he could go a day without talking to her. Without her updating him, he knows he’d spend every second of his day worrying about her health and how she’d be keeping up with herself.

The phone calls were also the bit of her he had left. If he were to stop calling her, all he’d have left is her empty side of the bed, and he needed more than that. He needed more of her.

“But you need to see that I still care for you, Y/n” he whispers brokenly, “that I’ll always be here to make sure you’re alright.”

“But how do you think that makes me feel?!”

Her voice was higher than usual, a tone she very rarely used with him because he never gave her a reason to be angry. But now, after him calling off their relationship but still having the audacity to call her made her sick to her stomach.

“If you still cared, if you still wanted me, you’d be with me right now! You’re not making any effort to care for me, Harry! Calling me doesn’t mean anything because you’re not here!

He shut his eyes at her words, a pang of guilt hitting him like a ton of bricks. He would be there with her if he had a choice, but their relationship wasn’t working out in both of their favors. In the midst of her getting her life back and him settling in a new job, it was very hard for them to keep up with each other. It was especially hard for him to keep up with her because she seemed to be so content in her new life that he almost felt unwanted.

He still loved her, but he felt like she didn’t want him anymore. She had recovered because of him, and because she didn’t have to rely on him in the way he was used to, he felt useless in her life. And no matter how much he tried to convince himself that it wasn’t true, that she still wanted and needed him, it still broke him apart.

“You know our relationship wasn’t working out for us and-“

No,” she cut him off, teeth clenching out of frustration, “our relationship wasn’t working out for you. You felt no need to love me anymore, so you left me just like everybody else.”

Harry’s jaw clenches as she speaks, head thrashing wildly side to side, because it’s not true. Everything she thinks, everything he’s made her come to believe isn’t true, and he wants nothing more than to try to make her understand that he’ll always be in love with her. That he’ll always be there for her because he can’t image a day without loving her the way she deserves.

“Y/n, baby, how could you say tha-“

“You need to stop calling me,” she cries, “you’re either a part of my life or you aren’t. There’s no middle ground for you to be in. That’s not fair to me. It’s either you care for me and love me or you don’t.”

Harry’s breath was harsh against the speaker, fists clenched together as he tries to wrap his head around the situation he’s put in.

The hesitation in his answer was enough for her heart to break. The silence between her words and his answer spoke louder than anything he could possibly say to her.

She couldn’t lie and say she wasn’t surprised this is how their story ended. Everyone has already gave up on her, it was only a certain amount of time before Harry realizes how easy a life would be without her. She just didn’t want to believe it.

“I get it, Harry” she whispers, sniffling as she runs her wrist along the tip of her nose. “Goodbye.“

He’s been doing this everyday, worrying and contemplating on what he should do. He wishes more than anything to be with her the way she deserved, and wishes even more that he had never left her in the first place. He knows calling her would make her angry because she’s made it clear she felt hurt every time she did so, but he also knows not calling her isn’t fair, either.

He understands how wrong it sounds to leave his anorexic girlfriend of three years, but he felt it was best for the both of them at the time. But now, after months of her out of his life with no other connections to hear from her, he realized how stupid he was to convince himself that.

He’s completely devastated without her.

Living without Y/n wasn’t living at all. The life he experienced with her was incomparable to the one he’s been experiencing without her. She’s the love of his life, she’s the woman who showed him what it truly meant to love and care for someone so much. Of course, being with her wasn’t the easiest thing in the world, but loving her was. That’s what made them so real. Their relationship was filled with struggles, messes, and tears, but they were still in love with each other regardless. It was their ability to fight together that pulled them through their most difficult times.

“Jesus, Y/n.” He whispers to himself, “I’m so sorry, baby.”

Harry’s thumb presses on the cancel button, letting out a shaky breath as he does so. He feels a tear slowly fall down his cheek, which he’s quick to wipe away with the back of his hand when he hears the front door swing open.

“Afternoon, H!” Gemma greets, hands filled with grocery bags as she stumbles through the front door.

“Bought us some sandwiches. Turkey chipotle sandwiches, to be exact. Figured we could just watch some shows today? The weather is a fucking disaster, it’s making me moody.”

Harry nods speechlessly, his fingers toying with his upper lip. His eyes divert to Gemma’s struggling figure for just a couple seconds before his attention is back on Y/n’s contact.

“Yeah, yeah sounds fine.” He mutters distractedly.

Gemma’s eyebrows furrow in concern over his melancholy tone, placing the grocery bags lazily on the kitchen counter before making her way toward Harry’s slumped figure.

She bites her lower lip at the look of her distraught brother, who’s clearly shown no improvement since his breakup with Y/n. She’s aware that he blames himself for their breakup and that he spends every waking hour of his day worrying about her. No matter how hard she tries to help him through this struggle in his life, there’s always a part of him that will always feel a sense of protection over her.

He’s a wreck, and no matter how many times he tries to deny it, there were numerous nights Gemma would find Harry staring at her contact during the earliest hours in the morning with helpless tears building in his eyes. She’d even hear him mutter apologies to himself, as if rehearsing a speech to say if he ever found the strength to call her.

Who could really blame him, though?

“You okay?” she asks timidly, already knowing his answer but still finding it in her heart to ask.

She would do anything for him- anything to help him. Hell, she’s tried everything. She’s tried to talk to him alone whenever she found him in his darkest hour, even made him cups of tea to help settle his brain. She bought him a journal, in hopes that writing down his feelings will help him recover in the slightest. She even scheduled him for an in-home therapy session, but every bit of her attempts never budged him. He was still the same mess of a man he has been since the day he left Y/n.

Harry looks up at her, nodding his head feverishly when he sees the concerned look on her face.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine,” he coughs, looking back down at his phone, “Just haven’t checked up on her in a while. Kinda worried.“

Gemma raises her eyebrows at him, unconvinced.

Kind of worried?” she questions, occupying the space on the couch next to him. Her hand reaches up to his forehead to wipe the beads of sweat off his forehead, which slowly moves to his back in attempt to relieve his tense muscles.

“You’re sweating.”

He lets out a breathy chuckle, his hand reaching to the back of his neck. He nods his head, lips pursing together as he tries to hold back the emotions he’s feeling.

“I feel like she stopped eating and it’s just- it’s just something I can’t stop thinking about, you know? I can’t live in peace when it’s all my head wanders off to.”

Gemma nods her head, her fingers squeezing the skin of his shoulder as a way to reassure that she’s here for him.

She feels awful about how much blame Harry’s been putting on himself the past couple of months. It’s beginning to take a major toll on him, he can barely include himself in day-to-day activities without getting lost in his thoughts. His once well-put-together form has seemed to turn effortless, not cared for in the way it once was. He’s become so disconnected,, she can’t deny the overwhelming concern she’s had for him for the past couple of months.

“I’m sure she’s okay, Harry. I’m sure she’s still checking in with Ms. Carter and working on herself. She’s a strong woman, you and I both know that. Strongest woman we’ve ever met. She’ll be okay.”

She leans over to press a chaste kiss to his cheek.

“And if she isn’t doing well, she would have called you by now.”

But Harry is having none of it. He knows that if she’s relapsing, she wouldn’t have called him. She wouldn’t have called anyone. He knows she feels like he doesn’t care about her anymore- feels like she’s the last thing on his mind. If she were to call him, she’d feel like she was a burden on his life, and that was the last thing she’d want. He knows that.

But if only she knew. If only she knew he can’t sleep at night because all he can think about is betraying the woman he loves, leaving her to fight by herself. Hell, if only she knew he can’t touch his phone without constantly going back to her contact trying to muster up the strength to call her and ask her how she’s doing.

“I was her reason to eat. If she stopped eating, it’s because of me.”

“No,” Gemma shakes her head, reaching her hands up to grab his face to ensure she was looking at him in the eyes, “You can’t put that much responsibility on yourself like that, she had plenty of reasons to recover. None of this would be your fault.”

He shakes his head, gripping the sides of his head as if trying to remain as calm as he possibly can. He wouldn’t be shocked if he lost all of his remaining sanity in his moment.

“I was literally all she had, Gem.” he spits, all the anger and frustration he’s held against himself now unleashing. All the contained emotions he’s been feeling, all the loathing he’s been trying to ignore, is all unraveling inside of him to the point where he feel like he can’t breathe.

“My existence, our future, that’s what she recovered for. Not a second of her recovery was for anybody or anything else.” He rants, breathing harsh as the thoughts rush through his brain. “She had nobody except for me. She didn’t have any friends, any family. She wasn’t fighting when I met her. She was waiting to die..”


“And I did what I promised her I wouldn’t do and…and now I-”

“You shouldn’t feel obligated to be with her, Harry.” Gemma blinks, shaking her head softly as she reaches to remove his hands from his head, “If you didn’t love her anymore, you didn’t have a choice.“

“But I do love her” he defends, shaking his head, “I’ve always loved her. We had to break up because our relationship wasn’t easy at that time, but hell, Gem, that doesn’t mean I ever stopped loving her.”

He sighs, rubbing his sweaty hands over his face.

Tears fall slowly down his face, soaking his cheeks as he inhales sharply. God, how much he fucking loves her, is what kills him the most.

“Me, helping her recover, of course that was a plus. I helped her get out of her anorexia, Gem. I never gave up on her, but I did once she recovered. That’s not fair, I still love her so much. I don’t know what to do anymore.”

Gemma frowns, slowly leaning toward him so that she can softly wrap her arms around his shoulders. She buries her cheek against his shoulder, thumb rubbing delicate circles on his back.

“I think you know what to do, H.”

Once Y/n’s appointment ended, she found herself curled up in her bed as the sounds of Harry’s mixtape played quietly throughout the room. It was a tape he made for her when they first started dating, something sentimental for her to hold onto whenever he wasn’t able to be there.

She’s been listening to it almost everyday since the breakup. She’d listen to it mindlessly, whether she was staring at wall or she was listening to it on her way to therapy. It was the only thing in her life that made her feel something; the pure value of it holding so much meaning. The music was the closest she’s been to Harry in a while, so it was her sanctuary.

She sighs, her fingers lightly grazing the window that drips with rain. In her loneliest hours, Y/n wants nothing more than to make her way over to him. She doesn’t quite know how she’s made it so long without him. In all honesty, she expected her to have given up and walk up to his door and beg him for his help. She knows she’s suffering, her body weak and starving the more she refuses to eat. But, to her, she has no reason to. Every bit of love she had for herself and every purpose she had to continue living has all dissolved into nothing.

She shakes her head, unwrapping herself from the blankets she raveled herself in before her bare feet made contact with the cold floor. She decides to go for a walk, or maybe just go out on her front porch to get some fresh air. She thinks it’ll be good for her, after all, she doesn’t have anything else to do besides stay cooped up in her four walls and listen to disgusting love songs.

The second she stood up from the bed, she nearly fell onto the floor. Her head spins and feels obnoxiously light when she begins to stand up properly. It wasn’t rare for her to feel lightheaded whenever she moved too quickly, however, this was the most intense it has been. Holding herself onto the wall, she waits until she feels back to her normal self before making her way down toward her living room.

Her fingers immediately press against her temples when she makes it to her foyer. Her head spins wildly with every step she takes, making her lose her balance once she reaches the last step. Her head hits against the floor, a groan leaving her chapped lips as her body begins to tremble. Her eyes cloud with darkness for a few moments at a time before she regains her consciousness, her sight fogged and lightheaded as she tries to pick herself up off the floor.

“No” she mumbles, coughing as she rushes to reach for her phone.

“No, no, no.”

This has happened to her before. It happened years ago, though, when she hasn’t consumed anything for weeks. The only difference is that she had someone there to save her before. Thankfully, her mom was there at the time and rushed to her rescue. When she made it to the hospital, they said she was near her end. If she had went a couple more hours without consumption, she wouldn’t have been able to make it.

But now, she has nobody.

Her breathing becomes harsh as her body keeps losing consciousness. There’s only a certain amount of time she has before she fades out entirely, and no matter how much she’s tried to convince herself that she’s been ready for this moment, she has never been more scared for her life.

Her shaking fingers reach for her phone in her back pocket. She has to do something and has to do it quick. If she dies like this, nobody would be out looking for her, nobody would find her body. She’d be stuck in this house as her body decays into nothing but bone.

She decides that this isn’t how she’s going to die, because if this is the day her end finally nears, she’d want to spend her last dying breaths with the one person she feels something for.


She whimpers, weak fingers punching in his phone number. Every part of her wants him to answer- needs him to answer, because he’s her last bit of hope and she doesn’t plan on leaving it all behind. But a part of her wouldn’t blame him for not answering. After all, she was the one who dropped him from her life completely, which was, quite honestly, the stupidest thing she’s ever done in her life. She practically pushed him away entirely, even when he was still there for her. Even when he still held onto her and cared for her like nobody else has.

And she can’t die knowing that.


Y/n swears hearing his voice is everything she needs in this moment.

Seeing her name light up on his phone makes Harry spring out of bed, his hands gripping the phone closer to his ear, as if trying to get closer to her. It’s been too long since he’s talked to her, and he’s convinced he can’t allow himself to waste another minute without hearing her voice again.

But no matter how much he wishes she was calling because she missed him, too, he just can’t seem to shake the feeling that the only reason she called is because she’s in trouble.

“Harry” she heaves groggily.

Her eyes are clouded, the room spinning around her. She can barely move, only the ghostly movements of her lips and the subtle rise and fall of her chest. She’s lightheaded, feeling cold and utterly weightless as her body lays faint on the carpeted floor beneath her.

“Y/n” Harry breathes out, slightly confused and partially in awe at the sound of her voice, “are you okay? I was gonna come by later. Been worried about you.”

“I keep fading out” she whimpers, her eyes closing longly each passing second, “I’m gonna die.”

Harry’s face pales the second he hears the struggling in her voice.

Nothing could have prepared him for this moment. It’s as if the world has stopped revolving around him, his only concern being Y/n and her safety. With her shaking voice filled with fear; it feels as if every one of Harry’s greatest fears are all coming to haunt him all at once. Y/n’s in a great amount of danger, all because of him, and he might not be able to save her in time.

In a matter of a second, working so quickly Harry doesn’t seem to fully keep up with his actions, he’s stumbling down his stairs and at his front door, holding his car keys shakingly in his hands. He doesn’t even bother putting on a pair of shoes or a jacket before he’s rushing toward his car.

“Y/n…Y/n, you have listen to me very carefully.” he pants, slightly tripping over his own two feet before regaining balance. “You have to hang up the phone and dial the police before i-”

“I- I can’t, Harry” she chokes out, interrupting him because she doesn’t know how much longer she can make it. “I’m so weak. I can’t move.”

Harry’s moving wildly once he sits down in the car. His hands are shaking so harshly it takes him a couple seconds to push the keys in the ignition, causing frantic mumbles of c’mon, c’mon, c’mon to leave his quivering lips.

“Fucking shit!” he spits, putting the car in reverse and stepping on the pedal so hard he’s convinced his car will be wrecked by the time he gets to her. But he doesn’t care, not at all.

He puts his car in drive and swerves onto the road, breaking the speed limit by an extra 30 miles an hour. His teeth clench together as his hand wraps tightly around the stirring wheel, causing his knuckles to turn white as he steps down on the pedal harder.

No matter what speed he goes, he has this inevitable fear that he isn’t going to make it to her on time. He feels he has no time- that she has no time- and no matter how badly he wishes he can stay talking to her to ensure that she’ll be okay by the time he reaches her, he knows it isn’t her safest option. He has to risk it, he doesn’t have much of a choice.

“You gotta give me two minutes, love. I’m putting you on hold for two minutes so that I can send someone over to you. Do not hang up on me, you hear me? You stay with me. Gimme two minutes.”

He doesn’t give her any time to reply before he puts her on hold. His fingers are rapid as he calls the police, the fingers that are gripping onto the steering wheel tapping along the leather as he waits for the operator to answer.

“What’s your-”

“My girlfriend, please,” he rushes out before the woman can finish, “she’s home alone and she keeps fading in and out of consciousness. I need you to bring someone over to her house please.”

He doesn’t notice how fast he’s speaking until the operator begins to ask him to calm down and repeat himself.

“Do you know any information in regards to her unconsciousness?”

“Yes,” he swallows thickly, “she’s anorexic.”

“What’s the address, sir?”

“168 Williamson Drive.”

“The police are on their way.”

He hangs up with the operator before switching back to Y/n’s contact.

“Y/n, baby, you still there?”

Her body jolts when she hears his voice from the speaker, breath hitching in her throat as she grips onto her phone tighter. She swears, if it isn’t for Harry being on the other line, she would have given up by now. Knowing he’s coming back to her keeps her fighting against her body, which is on the brink of blacking out for God knows how long.

“How much-“ she whimpers as she speaks, eyes slowly closing, “how much longer?”

His eyes wander wildly to the roads ahead of him. He isn’t far from her now, just a couple more turns until he’s in her neighborhood. Working quickly, his foot absentmindedly presses harder against the gas pedal, switching lanes to avoid the cars that are getting in his way.

Shit, baby, you gotta give me five more minutes. I just need a bit more time and I’ll be there with you.”

The five minutes feels like forever.

Between Y/n’s soft crying and Harry’s continuously worried questions, Y/n had already fallen out of consciousness three times. She isn’t positive on how she is able to wake up each time, but she is. Every time she wakes up, Harry is calling her name desperately through the phone, reassuring her that he was going to be there as soon as he possibly can and help make sure she stays safe. However, Y/n is almost completely positive she is going to die. She had put her body through so much for far too long, she doesn’t know how many times her body can keep recovering just to relapse again. Her health was constantly fluctuating between the most drastic lows and highs, there is no possible way it has any more strength to push her through this last fight. There is just no way.

Harry doesn’t have time to turn off his car before he’s rushing toward her front door. His sweating hands slip off the doorknob on his first attempt to open her door, but is quick to rebuttal when he storms inside her house. It’s dark, only a small amount of light illuminating the foyer as his eyes wildly search for her.

She’s collapsed onto the floor. Her skin as pale as he’s ever seen it, her fragile body shivering and shaking against the hardwood floor. Her body looks broken, in a way. It looks lifeless as she helplessly tries to muster any atom in her body to keep fighting for her survival. Her loose clothes didn’t hide how weak her body has become within the past couple of months. There’s still a drastic, evident change in her body frame since he’s last seen her. And if he has to be honest, it makes him feel sick to his stomach, to see the love of his life like this.

And the only thing he can think about is how this is all his fault. He caused all of this, not any of this would be happening if he hadn’t left her the way he did. Instead, they could be getting married, living in their dream home together, cooking on the kitchen stove and listening to their favorite music together. They could be happy together.

But everything is because of him. There is nobody else to blame besides him and his selfishness. He left her, alone, in her most disastrous condition and nothing about what he did is okay, not when she’s like this.

“Baby” he cries, falling to his knees beside her.

He begins to sob as he lifts her up from the floor. He cradles her against him, her head laying perfectly on his chest as his arms wrap security around her waist. He nuzzles his face into her hair, his strong cries raking through him as he holds her tighter against him.

She feels cold, much different than her usual warm touch. She feels so light, too, and so weak as he grabs onto her like she’s his life line.

It’s been too long- way too long since he’s held her so close. It feels as if this is the first time he’s finally able to breathe, to not feel so suffocated in his heartbreak over losing the love of his life. He’s with her now, and maybe not in the best way possible, but he’s with her and it’s the biggest step to help them overcome this. Together.

Her fingers brush against his neck, her cheek rubbing against his chest as she whimpers against him.

Her head spins and her eyes fog as he holds her to him, making it nearly impossible for her to keep up with her consciousness. All she can think is how good it feels, to be with him in her weakest moment. She feels the most alive, even in her time closest to death, being wrapped in his arms and being peppered by his kisses. She feels the safest she’s ever been, and in this moment, for the first time in a while, she truly feels like everything is going to be okay.

“Don’t leave me, please” she whispers, “please don’t leave again.”

His heart breaks when he feels her tears soak through his t-shirt as the words she speaks crack in her voice.

He’d never leave her, never in his wildest dreams would he think about leaving her again. He can’t live another day without her, and he’ll stop at nothing to make sure she gets the ending she deserves.

“Oh, my love” he whimpers, placing a delicate kiss upon her forehead, “I’m so sorry, my love. Help is on its way, okay? You’re with me now, you’re safe. I’ve got you.“

He leans down to kiss her shaking lips, running his hands through her hair as he lets out another broken sob.

“You’re safe now.”


As a student, a young Ted Bundy worked as a busboy in various hotels and clubs. In the August of 1967, he became friends with fellow Seattle Yacht Club colleague, Beatrice Sloan, who fell for his “wicked sense of humour and boyish good looks.” The widow learnt of Ted’s love interest, Stephanie Brooks, and would loan him her expensive car to take her out on dates. Realising the finer things in life impressed Stephanie, Ted encouraged Mrs. Sloan to lend him expensive cutlery to use for meals with his girlfriend. 

Even though she knew that Ted would take girls up to the crows nest of the Seattle Yacht Club for sex, and even that he would steal money from drunk patrons, she couldn’t help but like the young man. She ended up giving Bundy a large loan of money, confident that he would pay her back. When he didn’t, Mrs. Sloan rang Ted’s mother who simply replied with: “You were a fool to lend him anything, you’ll never get it back.” and with that, Louise Bundy abruptly put the phone down.

Despite the betrayal, Beatrice Sloan remembered Ted Bundy as the goofy young college student that she knew and adored. “Once he arrived at the Yacht Club in a jet black wig, it had me in stitches. He just looked like a completely different person.” Unbeknown to her, the killer would go on to use that same black wig as a disguise during his time as a fugitive.

Help! My former math teacher is a creep!

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I hope this story gets accepted when I submit this, and if it does it’s actually a serious one; A bit of a warning actually to be wary of some of your former teachers who try to get back in touch with you. If anyone would like more info or screenshots even, just hmu on here @honeyhazey.

Alright, so it was around March when my former math teacher (let’s call him Lou ) got back in touch with me via Facebook. I accepted the friend request and he immediately sent me a message; It was like 11 pm though so I decided to reply again later the next day cos I was tired. At first it seemed as if he was checking up on me, asking about my future and what do I have planned; He was a decent teacher too and he was always really intrigued by me in a way. Around 2014, he retired from CPS since the system was going downhill and he began to hate his job. Around my 8th grade year, you wouldn’t be surprised if he had a breakdown and yelled at us saying that “we’ll end up working in minimum wage jobs like Mcdonalds if we don’t listen to what he’s teaching." 

So after the first text that he sent, things seemed chill and I was happy that he cared for me that much. Eventually, he’d text me everyday (usually during the evenings and late nights) but after a couple of weeks things got very weird. He started trying to offer me large sums of money, at first it was $500 but he wanted to lower it "because his wife would notice”. Lou even asked what did I want for my birthday, and since I figured his intentions were innocent at first I just said an Amazon gift card. After we stopped communicating, it was sent in the mail and it was a pretty large sum for $50. I didn’t even ask for a present from him. Next, he mentioned taking out a $100K loan on his house because he wanted to take me out to this Harolds shack near this high school and I declined cos he wanted to meet at like 9 am while I was busy with my family. (The chicken shack wasn’t even near the school…btw he claims that “he loves dark meat <3 and that he’s not being prejudice”..btw I’m Black.). Then he saved a photo of myself that was in my sophomore year (at least from Spring 2016 and it was just a photo of me posing with skinny jeans and a tank top.) and accidently sent me to me. Finally, he would send me messages obsessively and would even stalk my status to see if I was awake or not (One time, I woke up early in the morning and I checked my facebook. A minute later he messages me if I was “Up for the day.”).

Don’t get me wrong, but we did talk on the phone a few times and he’d always bring up memories from when I was in middle school. I got bullied like hell and my school was trash at the time when I was there. Lou was going through a rough time as well since the public school system was trash and he would always have these mental breakdowns teaching in my math class; SO he’d use this and my experience in middle school to relate to me and build a connection since we were both “angry tortured souls”. He even mentioned an incident back around 2015 in which one of the girls (Which I found out that it was someone I knew from him when he brought the situation up) were having a sexual relationship with a substitute teacher who was teaching there. Then, he goes on about how he felt as if she was trying to flirt with him and that he was paranoid for some reason on getting fired since the administration were thinking that he was a bad teacher at the time. He would always talk about how beautiful I was, how I looked like a goddess, and he even tried to get me to go to college in his state (he currently lives in Indiana).

So fast forward to spring break, and he continues to text and call me. I began to ignore them cos I was busy with testing and with my family. I told my mother when he first texted me, and she was happy. But I started telling her how he’d obsessively stalk my facebook status and message me multiple times if I did not answer. So she was very concerned and disturbed by the messages he would send, and told me to cut it off immediately. I told Lou that his behavior was beginning to disturb my family and I, and that it was becoming creepy. I informed him that my mother was next to me as well as I was texting him, and it took him at least 45 mins to reply back after he read the message. (He knew that my mother was a cop, and that she’d do lots of damage to his rep if he continued this.). He immediately apologized for his behavior, and made an excuse on that he just really misses his children. After I read it, he just told me that we should just forget about all of this and that he was happy to have me as “a buddy” for a month.

The next day, I informed two of my counselors about it and one of them had called 311 to report it. They told me that I should probably end up making a police report about it, and so I did. Later on that day, My mother and I went to the police station to discuss the incident with the investigators. So there was immediate action, and asked me for all of his information since some of the things that he attempted to do were very disturbing. They felt bad that I had to go through that, and his intentions made me very angry; I’ve known Lou since I was 7, and to be frank he did give me some really creepy vibes. Since then, the investigators still need to get back in touch with me since they have a large case load; But now, I’m just telling most of my friends that went to middle school with me to avoid him so the same thing won’t happen to them.

*If anyone wants screenshots of our correspondence, please message me @honeyhazey!!*

Gemma Doesn’t Like You: Part 2

Part 1

Masterlist linked in bio

A month after Y/n’s encounter with Gemma, she hasn’t been seen again. She had cut ties with Harry and his family, meaning she started taking out loans and working every day just to pay off her schooling. Harry had absolutely no access to her. He never expected his last moments with Y/n to be in a three-hour car ride where silence consumed them whole as Y/n wouldn’t even look at him. The memory still haunts him, in his sleep and even when he’s awake, laying on their bed with a glass full of bourbon at 4 in the morning.

He’s changed since then, every bit of him broken and unfixable. He questions his reason for living. With finishing his career and his friends busy managing businesses and living their lives, the only thing keeping Harry going was now gone, had disappeared from his life and showed no sign of return. He saw a future with Y/n, a new beginning to an end with her, and now that it’s over, he feels his reason to live and his future has turned non-existent.

Gemma hasn’t heard from Harry ever since that night, either. She had tried numerous times to explain herself but he simply ignored her, blaming her for ruining his life. She didn’t know exactly what to think, she believed what she did was to protect him, but she started to doubt herself whenever Anne told her he’s been locked up in his house with excessive amounts of alcohol and drinking his pain away. She had hoped a part of him would have learned that she was right and moved onto a different woman, but she knew that was highly unlikely. She was just frustrated, not only with Harry, but with herself as well.

“You and Harry need to talk about things.” Anne demands through the phone.

Gemma rolls her eyes, letting out a slight groan.

“Mum, if he wants to put all the blame on me, he can have fun doing that. However, there isn’t a thing I’ve done wrong and I’m not just going to sit here and-“

“I have never seen your brother more miserable in my life.” Anne whispers, a slight quiver in her voice as she speaks. “He’s not doing well, mentally, at least.”

Anne lets out an almost inaudible sigh, “Gemma, I don’t care what your intentions were, but the outcome of what you did is killing him.”

Gemma takes in a shaky breath, leaning her elbow on the kitchen counter, placing the palm of her hand on her forehead.

"I’m not calling you a bad guy, but please, my Gem, fix this.”

“But mum, I-“

“They drove three hours to see you just for you to deliberately embarrass her in front of her boyfriend.”

Anne’s tone suddenly became rough, not tolerating the fight Gemma has been constantly putting up whenever they discussed the situation.

"I understand you were trying to protect your brother but that is not how you go about it. Now, I will not tell you again, you speak to Harry about this before you lose your brother forever.”

The line goes dead against Gemma’s ear. She sighs, locking her phone before pressing her forehead against the kitchen counter. She knows she has to talk to Harry about this, but a part of her still feels like she can’t allow Harry to stay with Y/n. It’s as if her big sister instincts kicked in. She doesn’t want to see him hurt because of Y/n, but she questions whether she’s the one doing it instead.

“Fine, fine!” Gemma groans to herself, picking up her car keys from the counter, “Guess I’ll have to fix this.”

Harry decides that it’s a good night to go out. A new bar has opened up a couple blocks from his home, and he feels it’s time for him to at least grief outside of his bedroom. Of course he was drunk prior to his arrival, and he went alone, but that didn’t change the fact that this is the most improvement he’s shown since Y/n left.

“Jus’ some vodka, please.” He slurs, struggling to get onto the bar stool properly.

The bartender pours him his drink, which Harry takes a big swig of. He has never been one to rely on alcohol for his problems. He’s always just learned to get over them and to never look back on the situation. But this? This is different. Alcohol is his only way of becoming numb, an attempt to escape his horrifying reality.

If there’s one thing he’s learned, it’s that alcohol actually makes it worse. It numbs him, but the second Y/n enters his mind, there’s no way of getting her out. At least when sober, he can cook, listen to music, read, or write to distract himself from the thoughts of her. But once alcohol is in his system, Y/n is barricaded inside, trapped in his conscious. And in some sick, twisted way, Harry loves it.

Harry lifts his drink up to his lips, looking around the bar for, hopefully, a friend he hasn’t spoken to in a while. He almost gives up on his attempts of finding company when, suddenly, he sees a mysterious woman across the bar. Maybe it’s the intoxication playing tricks on his brain, but she just looks so much like her. He can’t stop staring at her, so much of her reminds him of Y/n. The way her hair flows naturally to her breasts, and how she moves her body almost perfectly like Y/n does. He could swear she’s even holding the same drink Y/n would be, and her lips are colored with a color that reminds him so much of Y/n’s favorite lipstick shade. There is no way it is her, this isn’t her scene, but it’s almost like this woman was inspired by Y/n’s natural, charming looks.

After seeing her, everything became a blur. He remembers approaching her, but doesn’t remember any conversation they might have had. All he can remember afterward was letting her kiss him and asking if her if she wanted to leave with him. And now, he’s making out with her on his bed. His hands roaming her body, tongue battling dominance against hers. He aggressively holds her hips down, squeezing the tips of his fingers into her hips. She moans into his kiss, biting his bottom lip as her hands slide underneath his shirt. She lifts his shirt off his body, Harry panting heavy breaths before going back down to kiss her more. His lips travel to her neck, nibbling on her skin, sucking on her jawline.

His hands travel to her legs, hitching them up so they can hook around his waist. He pins her hands above her head, where she lets out a tiny giggle as he does so. His lips travel down to her chest, chin pulling down the neck of her shirt the lower he goes. His hips move against hers, the friction hot against his skin. He bites down on her shoulder, his hands gripping onto her shirt, ready to discard it from her body.

“Harry” she whispers, nails gently scraping down his back.

The voice that whispered his name makes him come in touch with reality. This isn’t right, this isn’t Y/n. How could he be touching another woman like this? She doesn’t even feel right. Her skin isn’t as soft as Y/n’s. Her hair isn’t as light at Y/n’s, either, and the way she moves against him isn’t as effortless and magnetic as Y/n’s. Her voice doesn’t make his heart race and her touch doesn’t set his skin on fire like Y/n’s always has.

Harry quickly places his hand onto her chest and pushes himself off of her.

No!” he growls.

The woman bounces on the bed, her face twisting with confusion when he begins to aggressively put his shirt back on. He’s already crying, his hands rubbing over his face as he keeps whispering “That’s not her. She’s not her.”

“What the fuck?” she squeals, propping herself up with her elbows and she stares at his back–his way of choosing to not face the situation.

“You need to get out.” Harry cries, his body like a ticking time bomb, ready to explode the second she leaves the room.

He grabs a glass from his nightstand, pouring bourbon from a bottle left there for nights he wasn’t able to sleep, an accessible reliant to help him become numb.

How could he do this? He never imagined himself being that intimate with another woman. Y/n was the only one he’s ever been comfortable with, exposing parts of him nobody else even knew existed. He may be famous, but he was never able to find women he felt stable with. To him, they were temporary, just to keep some sort of consistency in his hectic lifestyle. But he never felt love, never felt a connection with them, not until he met Y/n. She opened him up, discovered parts of him nobody else took time to discover. He never felt so alive the way he did with her, like his job and the entire world he knew meant absolutely nothing without her.

“What?” the woman asked again, sitting up at the foot of his bed.

“Please just get out!” Harry roars, his rage taking over as he throws his bourbon-filled glass across the room.

The woman flinches as pieces of broken glass fall onto the floor, quickly gathering her belongings before making her way out the bedroom door. As she was hurrying down the stairs, trying to fix herself, her body rams into another.

“What in the-?”

“S-so sorry” she stutters, “so sorry.”

Gemma turns her head around to watch the mysterious woman walk out the door. Her eyebrows furrow in confusion, utterly lost as to what just happened.

“Harry?” She calls.

The only response she gets back is sounds of objects being thrown and Harry’s drunken slurs. Her eyes widen, quickly rushing up the last bit of stairs to reach where Harry is. When she reaches his bedroom, Harry is throwing the sheets off the mattress. The pillows had already been thrown across the room, the duvets pooled by his feet. He’s muttering to himself, quietly, strings of slurred curses harshly leaving his lips as he drowns in inhumane sobs. Gemma’s mouth hangs open as he aggressively flips the mattress off the springs of the bed, screaming as he does so. This is no Harry she’s ever seen. He’s almost animalistic, but in a more depressed sense, like his violence is derived from desperation and guilt.

“Harry!” Gemma yells, quickly approaching the mattress that has ended up on the floor.

“What the fuck are you doing?!”

Harry watches as she places the mattress back in it’s place, almost throwing up everything inside of him as he looks at it. It was a simple object, meant for comfort and rest. But it was so much more to him. Almost all his favorite memories with Y/n happened on that mattress. Hours of countless jokes, tickle fights, making love, and even stupid fucking fights that they later joked about happened on that mattress, between those sheets, upon those pillows. But now? He’s ruined it. He touched another woman on there, made another woman feel good on the mattress that was meant for him and Y/n.

“I was on there with some other woman” Harry breathes out, gulping once he finishes his sentence. “I don’t even know her name, Gem. I don’t know what I just did.”

She looks up at him. His face is crimson and covered in tears, his hair a complete mess, eyes red and wet, almost trying to hold back all the tears built in them. He’s shaking, almost like he’s lost control of his body.

“Harry, it’s okay. You guys- you guys aren’t together anymore. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Gemma says softly, picking at the sheets that lay on the floor.

She can’t lie, she suddenly feels like a villain when she sees him like this. He almost looks dead as he stares at the bed emotionless. Harry is the last person she’d expect to lose their temper. He was always the strong one in the family. When their parents first got divorced, Gemma had felt so broken. Anne wasn’t much better. They both broke down several times a night, holding onto each other for dear life, as if trying to keep their family together. Harry was the one who helped them through it. Although he felt as if his entire world was flipped upside down, he remained strong, for not only his family, but for himself. This had happened countless times throughout their lives. Whatever came at him, Harry was always able to take it strongly, never showing anybody, including himself, the pain that was inflicted on him.

“How could you say that?” Harry whispers, still refusing to look at Gemma. “I was on our bed with another woman. I did everything wrong.”

Not knowing how to respond, Gemma ignores his comment, blinking her tears away, quickly tearing her gaze from her broken brother to look at the shattered glass on the floor.

“Do you have any plastic bags for that?” She asks quietly, getting up from her spot to look by his nightstand.


Gemma opens up his closet, looking sadly at the half-filled rack of Harry’s clothes. They are pushed perfectly to one side, as if he felt like he couldn’t occupy Y/n’s. It doesn’t just look empty, but it feels empty, even to Gemma. It doesn’t even look right.

She shakes her head, rummaging through a bin on the floor. As she grabs a plastic bag from the bottom, a small, black velvet box falls onto the floor right by her feet. Gemma’s heart drops the second she sees it, almost afraid of what it actually is.

She hesitantly picks it up, opening it slowly. A sob rips through her, a diamond engagement ring set perfectly in its place. It shines against the dimmed lights in Harry’s bedroom, making Gemma’s heart break.

“What is this, Harry?” Gemma asks.

Harry doesn’t answer, unmoving in the same position, looking at his bed, silent cries and words of guilt leaving his mouth as Gemma speaks.

“Harry, what is this?” she asks, harsher this time, demanding for the answer she needs to hear from him.

He turns his head over, looking sadly at the box, his lips pressed harshly together. He closes his eyes, excess tears running down his cheeks, almost wishing he wasn’t reminded of it. He looks down, his hand traveling to the back of his neck.

“I was going to marry her” Harry whispers, “Wanted to marry her.”

Gemma inhales sharply, her face twisting with guilt as she looks at her brother like he’s a lost puppy. She feels her heart break for him. Not only did he not get the chance to marry Y/n, but it was her own fault that he couldn’t marry her. It was Y/n’s choice to break off things with Harry, and honestly, Gemma couldn’t be happier when she found out they weren’t together anymore. She wanted Harry to move on and find a woman who respected and loved him for who he was, not for his money. But as she looks at him now, alone and emotionally damaged, how could she be happy? He wanted marriage, a life and a family with Y/n, and she completely broke that. She had completely taken away his happiness and future.

“H-Harry, I-“

Her apology is interrupted by the doorbell, making her sigh before putting the ring back in the bin.

“I’ll get it. Just try to clean up, please.”

Harry gives her a small nod before Gemma makes her way down the steps, wiping her sweating hands on her jeans before making her way to the door. When she opens it, her breath is taken right out of her lungs. Y/n is standing there, fiddling with her fingers nervously.

She didn’t expect Gemma to answer, but it was exactly what she wanted. Since everything happened, Y/n felt guilty for not talking things out with Harry. Oh, how she missed him. How every part of her craved him everyday. How her skin craved his touch, how her ears craved his voice and lips craved his. No part of her was able to let him go. She attempted to many times to rid the pain that has inevitably taken over her, but nothing could help her. She was helpless, the pain had consumed her whole and made her into an emotionless woman, unable to feel anything besides pain.

She regretted everything. He was willing to throw everything away for them. He fought for their relationship so strongly, and she just left, not putting up a fight back. Y/n planned on talking to Gemma, however, she didn’t think it would happen so soon. She intended on working things out with Harry before making peace with her, but it seems as though she has to start where she wanted to end.

“Y/n.” Gemma breathes out, almost relieved.

Y/n’s shocked when she hears Gemma say her name. She normally says it with such disgust, like it was poison to her. But something about the way she said it now, and the way she looks at her as she does so, that genuinely makes her believe everything will be okay.

“G-Gemma, I just want to um, want to say that-“

“I know” Gemma interrupts, “I know what you’re gonna say, but you don’t have to say it. I treated you like utter scum, Y/n, and you never deserved that. I know you’re not having Harry pay for your schooling anymore, and that just makes me feel so bad. You work hard, Y/n, you really do. You work harder than anybody I’ve known, and I just jumped to conclusions.”

“Gemma, I-”

“Let me finish” Gemma states, “I was protective of my brother because all his past girlfriends were only with him for his money. I never did anything about it, you know? I just watched it all happen, and when I heard that he was dating someone low income, I just-I just felt like I had to do something. Which sounds so stupid because you love him so much. You cared so much about him and his family that you broke your own heart just so that he didn’t have to choose between you and his family. You have done so much for my brother, and I never saw that, and I’m so sorry, Y/n. I’m so, so sorry.”

Y/n nods, a small smile on her face as she lets out a breath of relief.

“It’s okay” she smiles, “Honestly, I understand.”

Gemma smiles, looking down at the ground before opening the door wider.

“Harry’s um, Harry’s upstairs. You can go in. I’ll leave you two alone.”

Y/n smiles, muttering a small “thank you,” while hugging Gemma for the first time before making her way up the steps.

“Harry?” she calls when she reaches the bedroom door.

She sees him standing in the same place, stiff, tears continuously rolling down his cheeks. He isn’t how she remembered. There is no glow to him, no life left inside of him. There is no bit of the Harry she knew inside this man, instead, all she sees is a broken man, with his soul completely taken out of him.

His eyes look up at her, and he swears his knees almost give out on him the second he sees her in their bedroom.

“Y-Y/n?” He whispers.

“Hey” she says softly, slowly walking towards him, making sure to not step on any of the mess on the floor. “I wanted to talk.”

She moves to sit onto the bed, but Harry is quick to grab onto her arm before she can,

“Don’t-don’t sit there,” he pleas softly, shaking his head, “I just-I just had a woman on there, but we didn’t do anything besides kiss and I know that doesn’t make a difference, and I am so, so sorry, Y/n, but I was drunk and I was trying to help me recover from all of this but it wasn’t working, and I am so sorry but can’t see you sit there right now.”

Y/n lets a few tears fall at his confession, but she can’t blame him for it. It hurts her, it hurts her tremendously to know he was with another girl before she came here. But what else did she expect? When she was gone, she wanted him to move on and find somebody else. She was the one who broke things off, she wanted him to find someone worthy for his family’s acceptance. She just couldn’t blame him, no matter how much it hurt.

“It’s okay, Harry” she whispers, placing her hand softly against his cheek, “I understand, it’s okay.”

He lets out a shaky breath, nodding his head softly, one of his hands reaching up to hold hers.

“I’m sorry I didn’t fight for us,” Y/n cries, “I just walked away and I never gave us a chance. You are the love of my life and I didn’t even fight for you. I did it because I love you, and I couldn’t be the one to stand in between your relationship with Gemma. She’s your sister, and no matter how much I love you, I can’t be selfish with you. I had to let you go so that you can have your family.”

“Oh, baby” Harry sobs, pulling her against his body.

His forehead presses against hers, his arms wrapped securely around her waist. They’re both crying, breaking down for the amount of time they’ve spent apart.

“I know, baby, I know. I just can’t live without you. You’re my everything, you know that? My money, my image, my life means nothing without you. I would give it all up for you.”

Y/n nods, sobbing at his words. She lifts his head from hers, her thumb wiping away his tears before pressing her lips to his. They kiss hungrily, starving from their lack of one another. Every bit of their bodies like magnets, drawn to each other the closer they get.

“Gotta ask you something, baby” Harry breathes out between kisses, detaching himself from her lips and resting his forehead against hers, his breathing harsh and spreading upon her face.

“Fuck, baby, lemme ask you something.”

Her eyes close softly as she nods, biting her lip as she tries to catch her breath between their feverish kissing and died down sobs.

Harry takes in a breath of preparation before kneeling down on one knee, both his hands taking hers in his and running his thumbs across her knuckles.

Y/n gasps, teary eyes staring wildly at his as she begins to process what’s happening. She knew they’d get married one day, however, she started doubting her greatest dreams once they broke up. 

But knowing it’s all coming back to life makes her heart race in her chest. This is what she’s been waiting for- everything she’s been wanting for since the moment she fell in love with Harry.

And it’s all happening in the time they both need it most.

“Oh, baby” she whispers, raking her hands through her hair. Her bottom lip begins to quiver while tears of excitement begin to fall down her cheeks. 

Harry grips her thighs in his hands as he stares lovingly in her eyes.

“Y/n, baby. The moment I met you, I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. You’re the love of my life, you know. You complete me and inspire me to be a better man every single day. And when you left me, I swore to myself that if you ever decided to come back to me, I’d do everything in my power to keep you by my side. So, baby, will you please marry me?”

Y/n’s hand covers her mouth as she attempts to suppress a sob, her eyes squeezing shut.

“Y- yes!” She almost screams, “God, Harry, yes!”

Harry’s face breaks into a smile he’s ever given, jumping from his kneeling position before bringing Y/n into his arms. They both laugh, share the sweetest of kisses, and cry together as they imagine what the future is holding for the both of them. 

Star Struck Fool

Shance AU

Part 1

Everyone knew that Shiro is one in a million. Heck even he knew it. Perfect grades, perfect flight simulation score, perfect hair, perfect body, perfect teeth, fuck perfect everything. Everyone knew. Especially Lance.

Oh boy does he know it. Yet he wasn’t afraid to tell Shiro just how perfect he is. If you were to meet Lance you’d probably say he is obnoxious, greedy and stupid. Hell thats what Lance thought of himself. But if you truly knew Lance, like really knew Lance, you say he is determined impulsive and a genius. You see Lance never has seen his true potential. And he may never truly see it but if you saw a glimpse of his potential you see that he could do many great things. He’s already done so many great things like getting into the Garrison. Getting into the Garrison was a mile stone for Lance. Never in a million years did he think he’d get into it. But he did. He worked hard, hard enough to get a scholarship. He worked two jobs just so that his Mama wouldn’t have to take out any loans just for him to go to school. He never asked her for money. He felt as if he wasn’t worth the trouble. That’s why when he had got his acceptance letter, he was absolutely elated. His hard work had payed off. He felt a twinge of worth at that point in time. But, as always, it didn’t last. Three months into training at the Garrison Lance saw that he wasn’t really all that special. He wasn’t as smart as Pidge or as inventive as Hunk, nor was he as good a pilot as Keith. And he’s never gonna be as strong as Shiro. Gods was that man was built. Another reason why Lance admired him. Ok maybe not admired, idolized? No, crushing on would be more accurate. Lance has one big fat crush on Shiro. He couldn’t deny it, no one could deny it. Well except Shiro. You see, Shiro may be the top student in the Garrison but boy was he oblivious to anyone who wasn’t Keith.

Over the past months numerous of girls and guys have confessed to Shiro. And what does Shiro say?

“You like me? Why?” The audacity! Shiro doesn’t even see why! Shiro may be the top student but he never held that over anybody. He believes that just because you succeed better than most doesn’t mean you should brag about it. It never really occurred to him that maybe he was better than most. Either way it’s no reason to bring someone down. And this is where Lance steps in. Lance, this poor boy, has no filter. He’s as bold as they come and whatever is on his mind, he speaks it. So as Lance starts to hang around Shiro more often, mainly because he’s Shiros cadet, he can’t help but say just how perfect Shiro is. Shiro, of course, is unaffected. He either grunts and nods just to get Lance to stop talking, or, like what he’s doing right now, ignores him and continues what he’s doing.

Right now they’re in the laboratory finishing up the making of solutions so that the next class can use them for their experiments. Shiro, who’s done most of the work because of the control freak he is around Lance, doesn’t even notice the way Lance looks at him. The look that one gives to the love of their life. The look as if Lance was star gazing on the roof of the dorms, inspecting each and every star there is. Lance can’t help it. Being this close to him. His role model and love of his life (even though Shiro may not know it yet). He can’t help but stare at Shiro and examine every aspect of his being. The way his brow scrunches when he’s concentrating, or when he’s frustrated. The way he sets his jaw every time he squeezes the pipet, slowly so he can get the concentration of whatever acid is in there. How Shiro has the most perfect eyelashes Lance has ever seen. He knew Japanese people are gorgeous but man Shiro is on a new level. Whenever Shiro looks at Lance he’s pretty sure that he never hears what Shiro says to him so he just agrees, even though he has no idea what he’s agreeing to. And right now Shiro is looking at him. Oh my god Shiro is looking at him.

“Hmm?” Lance hums not really sure of what was said.

“I didn’t say anything…” oh.

“Oh… right. Sorry!” Lance laughed blushing because he just looked like an idiot. Shiro just grunts.

Time passes and Lance can see that Shiro is stressed mainly because he can’t seem to make the exact concentration that needs to be made. He’s tried at least five times and five times he failed. This makes Lance worry. Shiro usually makes a solution as if it we’re routine. Something is up. And Lance being the nosey person he is can’t help but wonder.

“Everything alright?” Lance asks.

Shiro sighs not responding to Lance and just continues to work. Lance frowns a little due to the lack of attention he’s been getting from Shiro. This makes Lance wonder if he’s even needed.

“Fuck!” Shiro curses. Making Lance flinch, not because he cursed but because Shiro slammed his fist against the lab table. Lance has never seen Shiro this upset. Not even when Lance is being a pain in the ass.

“Do you need help? I’m here if-”

“No.” Shiro sighs cutting Lance off mid sentence. Lance deflates and shuts his mouth. But once again Shiro let’s out a sigh and a growl. So Lance asks again.

“Are you sure you don’t need any-”

“No, Lance.” Shiro says with a chilling voice that makes Lance sit up straight. So he just sits there awkwardly but still observing Shiro as if he’s a biological specimen.

Shiro sighs again, taking off his lab glasses, which is highly unadvised, setting them on the table and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Shiro? Do you want me to he-” Shiro growls before

“No, Lance! I don’t need your help! And frankly I don’t need you!” Shiro explodes. And for an unknown reason. But Lance thinks it’s because of him when it’s not. Shiro is breathing hard, trying to calm down so he won’t break anything.

“Look can you just-” Shiro finally looked at Lance and immediately regretted what he did. At first Lance hadn’t know he was crying. His eyes were wide staring blankly at Shiro as tears dripped out of his eyes. Once Lance felt a drop on his lab coat he gasped, trying to stop the tears from falling but they wouldn’t. They wouldn’t stop! Which made Lance cry even more. Gods he hated crying. Lance never cried. At least no ones seen him cry. And once lance realizes that. He apologized and ran off to his room.

“Wait L-” Shiro tries but Lance is already out the laboratory.

“Damn it!” He curses stumbling back, leaning on a lab stool. He never meant to yell at Lance, he never has. He loves Lance, maybe not in the same way Lance does. At least he thinks he doesn’t. He’d do anything for Lance. Shiro has never met anybody who is like Lance, strong, funny and quite… beautiful.

Beautiful. Gods is he beautiful. Perfect brown skin, not a single scratch or blemish on him. Beautiful deep blue eyes that pull at your soul when you look into them. Long toned legs that could kick anyones ass if need be.His beauty is what he was known for in this school. And of course Lance loved the attention but he only wanted the attention of one person-Shiro. But Shiro is either too busy with work and school or with Keith. Lance never understood why Shiro was so fond of Keith. Yeah he was a great pilot, best in his class actually, but he was always so… grumpy.

Hmm maybe that’s why. Anyway, Shiro was always with Keith in the food court, in the trading deck, even in his room! Lance hated to admit it but he was jealous of Keith. Keith never even tried and he got the attention of the one guy Lance is in love with. Ok yeah Lance was a little overbearing sometimes but that’s who Lance is he always tries to make light of things because frankly that’s what this school needs. Everyone is so grumpy and uptight. Lance feels as if he’s in some type of asylum. And at this moment Lance feels like he’s finally starting to fit in. He finally broke.

I have more don’t worry Tumblr couldn’t fit everything I wrote in one single post so I’ll have to post it in parts. But lemme know what y'all think!!!

Gemma Doesn’t Like You


“Are you nervous?” Harry asks, gripping onto Y/n’s hand as he starts his three-hour drive to his sister’s house.

In their now one year of dating, Y/n is finally meeting Harry’s sister. With their schedules being tied from Y/n’s university to Gemma’s new job and Harry’s recent solo work, there was barely any time for either of them to visit one another. But with Y/n convincing her bosses to get her off the schedule for a week, it’s finally time for Y/n to meet Gemma.

“I’m okay.” Y/n replies reluctantly. 

In all honesty, she’s scared shitless. Even though the rest of Harry’s family practically coos over Y/n, Y/n wasn’t raised in a high-income family. She shared a two bedroom apartment with her two parents and her two older brothers her entire life. Her only time out of the house was when she went off to school or work—never really having a social life because she neither had time nor money for it. 

Y/n being poor and moving in with Harry has been a focus for the media since they publically announced their relationship. They disclosed that Y/n is only paying off her debt and university tuition because of Harry’s wealth, and even talked about Y/n only moving in with Harry because she wouldn’t have to pay the rent that way.

And even though it is true that Harry pays rent and pays off her debt, it is nothing like it seems. There is an entirely different story underneath their publications that nobody understands besides Harry and Y/n—and that’s what scares her the most.

“Don’t worry, baby. She’ll love you. She can read whatever she wants, yeah? But all she needs to pay attention to is who you really are.”

Harry holds her hand tighter. He knows that Y/n is well aware that Gemma has tried to get Harry to break up with her for a while now. She thinks that Y/n is nothing but a gold digger—using the sympathy card to get every ounce of money out of him so that she can manage a living. Of course, that wasn’t the case, and Harry would be willing to spend the rest of his life disproving his sister. 

And he’s starting today.

“Who I am is not going to impress her, Harry. I have nothing set out for me. My future is a dead end. I’m useless.”

Harry’s eyes narrow in pain at her words, slowly letting his eyes leave the road so that he can look at her. He loves her so much more than he can explain, and knowing that the woman he loves so deeply feels so negatively about herself completely and utterly destroys him.

Y/n is so much more than she thinks. She has more determination and gratitude than anybody he’s ever met. She has so much strength and willpower to keep herself moving forward, and despite Harry seeming to have the most difficult job to others, he doesn’t have half of what she has to offer to this world.

“Hey, don’t say things like that. You know that’s not true.”

His eyes are glistening with tears and Y/n almost goes back on her word just for the sake of his own wellbeing. She knows how much putting herself down can affect him, but she truly believes in the words she spoke and won’t take back what she said because she knows it’s true.

“It’s the truth, Harry.”

He scrunches his face with squeezed-shut eyes, shaking his head wildly.

“That’s far from it. You’ve been busting your ass trying to finish school; I have never seen someone so determined to accomplish anything in my life. You inspire me every day—every single day. When I feel like giving up or thinking what I’m doing isn’t worth it, I think of your ability to overcome any of that. It doesn’t matter your money, Y/n, you’re the best person I’ve ever met. I’d do anything to be half the woman you are.”

And as much as Y/n appreciates his words—and no matter how much his words make her heart swell—she doesn’t want to carry on with this discussion. So she smirks, letting out a slight chuckle to lighten the mood. She leans over to press a gentle kiss on his cheek, rubbing her nose slightly against the skin.

“So you wanna be a woman, huh?”

Harry laughs, sneaking a look at her from the corner of his eye. She looks as beautiful as always, and no matter what ends up happening at Gemma’s house, he’ll be by her side no matter what it takes to get there.

His life would be meaningless without her with him. She’s defined all his greatest and most memorable moments, he’ll never let her go.

“Don’t worry, darling,” Harry sighs, “you’ll always have me.”

Pulling up into Gemma’s driveway gave Y/n enough fear to almost pass out on the walk to her front door. Everything she has felt about this day is building up so much inside of her that her body almost feels numb. 

Her heart is racing, her palms are sweating, and her breathing must have been harsh because Harry immediately notices how different her demeanor has become. 

He pulls her into him a bit more than before, pressing a chaste kiss to her temple and rubbing his hand along her waist.

“Stop stressing, darling” Harry whispers, “it’ll be fine.”

But she just knows it won’t be. This is a disaster waiting to happen and she feels the anxiety deep within her bones. If she didn’t love Harry so much, she wouldn’t hesitate to leave him on the door step, steal his car, and drive away from here. But it’s because she loves him so much that she’s willing to prove Gemma wrong.

She has to.

While taking the finals steps up to her door, Y/n has to grab onto Harry’s hand and arm with both of her hands in case she decides to run away. And just for the sake of her sanity, Harry gives her one last reassuring kiss before he opens the door to her home. 

“Gem! We’re here!”

Her house is everything Y/n expected it to be. Everything is open, everything all in one place—nothing to separate the rooms. The walls are bright and decorated with art work Y/n’s only ever seen on display at local museums. It all looks so expensive, there is nothing Y/n has ever seen like it. 

Gemma walks out from the kitchen, looking slightly uneasy, but smiling as she gives her brother a welcoming hug. Their greeting is short and Y/n admires how close they truly are. She never had siblings to grow any particular bond with, so watching Harry and Gemma soaking each other up and making up for lost time makes her heart jump.

But it’s not that long after where Gemma’s attention is on Y/n, a prominent scowl on her face and a glimmer of disrespect in her eyes.

“So, this is Y/N.”

Y/n feels Harry’s hold on her tighten.

She disregards the way she speaks, even if it sends a shiver down her spine. She’s going to do her best to get Gemma’s liking and approval, there is no way she can mess this up. This is her only shot.

“Hello, Gemma, it’s wonderful to meet you.” Y/n smiles, sticking her hand out to properly introduce herself. Gemma smiles slightly, looking down at Y/n’s hand.  

“Is there any reason my brother is paying your university tuition, Y/n?

The way she says her name burns Y/n’s insides; like her name is toxic on the tongue. She slowly puts her hand down, tucking it underneath her other arm as her free hand moves to push twist her hair. 

Fuck, Gemma really jumped right to it and now Y/n is unsure of what to say. She didn’t expect those types of questions to come so soon, and no matter how many times Y/n had prepared for this moment, her tongue is tied and she’s never felt more intimidated in her life.

“O—Oh, well—”

“Gemma!” Harry seethes, his eyes glaring at his sister in almost a threatening manner, “What the hell?”

Y/n swallows thickly. 

“N—No, Harry,” Y/n interjects, shaking her head slightly, “it’s fine. It’s just that my family isn’t financially stable. They obviously wanted me to get into the best university I could, so when I got accepted, I began to take out student loans. I was on work study and we were provided a good amount of financial aid but it wasn’t enough for us. I ended up owing a lot of money to the bank and—“

“So you had my brother use all the money he saved up from his career just to waste it all to pay for you?”

Y/n stands wide-eyed, clearly not expecting that harsh of an accusation. She knew accusations were going to come, but not so goddamn soon and not so rude. 

And she really wants to crawl out of her own skin. She feels sick—she feels filthy and she wants nothing more than to leave the hatred glaring from Gemma’s eyes. 

She feels the tears she’s been holding in hit the surface, and her chest is heaving and her throat is chocked from the thickness in the air. She really can’t be here right now—she really can’t keep listening to anything else Gemma decides to throw at her.

She’s embarrassed and insecure, two things Y/n can’t handle on her own and now she’s forced to face the situation that’s feeding her both.

“What the fuck?!” Harry shouts, “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about!”

It took Y/n months before agreeing to let Harry pay her tuition. He had offered since the day he met her. She stressed herself out in ways he’d never seen—pushing herself to the brink of exhaustion and never giving herself a chance to properly take a breath. 

In the moments leading up to their relationship, he felt his career wasn’t even half of what she put herself through at the time. He had all the money for everything she wanted—he was willing to give every penny he had to her, drop everything he’s worked for and give it all to her. He didn’t need it anymore. He had spent his entire life building his future and by the time it was over, he had so much money that he didn’t even know what to do with. 

He found his girl—he found the one he was going to marry. He had a house—a beautiful house—one he could still pay off because he’s still being paid for being in the media. He lived his dream, there was no reason to keep the money he made.

He had everything.

And after what felt like years of Harry begging Y/n—to the point where he even went on his knees—to help her get through her financial crisis, she couldn’t say no. Not to that amount of desperation, not when he was in tears watching her suffer so much.

“That’s bullshit!” Gemma spits.

She takes a threatening step towards Y/n, and in any other circumstance, Y/n would run away without hesitation. But she can’t move.

She lets out a sob when Gemma gets in her face, not daring to touch her but still close enough to make Y/n understand how much she’s made her angry—enough to let her know how serious this all is.

“What are the chances a girl like you gets it on with my brother?! Huh? What are the fucking chances of that?!“ 

"That is fucking enough!” Harry booms, pushing his hand out to push Gemma away from Y/n. 

He swears, he could fucking break her wrists in half. Gemma was the last person he expected to judge Y/n on her economic class. He actually thought they’d get on extremely well. He never expected to be holding Gemma back from punching a very fearful, shaken up Y/n.

And he wishes more than anything that he can be comforting her right now, but he’s not going to risk letting Gemma out of his grasp.

Y/n steps back, taking in a harsh breath as the wind is knocked right out of her. She genuinely feels like someone punched her in the throat, which probably would have happened if Harry wasn’t holding Gemma back as hard as he is. 

She feels the tears that were building up in her eyes slowly start to fall, her barrier completely breaking down. It wasn’t supposed to be this way, nothing was. She’s not supposed to make Harry’s family hate her. She wanted to become apart of it, grow old and pass down more generations of it. 

It wasn’t supposed to happen this way.

In the mix of her emotions, Y/n puts on the fakest fucking smile she’s ever put on. Of course,  it’s not on there for long. She looks down the second it disappears, falling just as quickly as it formed. If she continues to fight for herself, there would be no room for any hope she wishes to carry that Gemma will somehow see her differently. 

“You don’t have to worry about this anymore, Gemma.” She cries, little pathetic sobs finding their way from her throat, “Me and Harry are going to go now, and neither of you will ever have to see me again.”

When the words fall from Y/n’s mouth, Harry’s heart drops to the pit of his stomach. She can’t be serious—she can’t mean what she’s saying.

How could Harry live without seeing her? He’d never be able to forgive himself for letting it get far enough to where Y/n is going to leave him and never think of coming back. No, the thought of that just can’t be possible.

“No.” He whimpers, watching her as she turns away from them, “Baby, please don’t.” 

His hands loosen around Gemma’s wrists in defeat. His whole body is paled and his eyes are brimmed with tears and refusing to blink. 

He just lost everything.

“I never want her back in this goddamn house, Harry, I swear—”

“Do you realize what you just did to me?” He chokes out a sob, his hand reaching to the overwhelming pain in his chest. “You just ruined me, Gemma. I—I’m—She was everything to me, you don’t understand.”

And he really can’t find it within him to stay long enough to listen to what she has to say. She just ruined his life—his life is completely ruined and he’s never felt so utterly lost in his entire life.

He walks out of Gemma’s door without looking back, not daring to do anything but speed up his pace when he sees Y/n sobbing against the car door, her body shaking and eyes soaked with tears.

Nothing is making sense, everything he thought he knew is falling apart. The life he’s built himself is crumbling beneath him, and there’s absolutely nothing he can do about it.

When Y/n is only a few feet away from him, he grabs onto her wrists so tight and rams her into his chest. His movements are nothing short of desperate and he needs her to know how much he needs her, now more than ever.

He needs her to know that he physically can’t live without seeing her again. She means more to him than anything he’s ever had and he refuses to let her walk away from what they have. He won’t let it happen.

He won’t.

He grabs her face so that he can look at her, and the pain in her eyes makes him want to rip his heart out of his own chest. She can’t look at everything she’s ever loved and know she has to walk away from it. 

“You didn’t mean that, Y/n. You are not fucking leaving me, there is no way in hell I’m letting that happen.”

His hands are running feverishly down her hair, his eyes practically pleading for her to just come back to him. 

But he needs to understand.


“Not over my fucking sister, Y/n. Please, you can’t do that to me. You can’t.”

She squeezes her eyes shut—the only way she can think rationally because she can’t think properly when she looks at him. It hurts too much.

 How in the world is she going to do this? It’s either she stays with Harry and he loses the person who means most to him, or she leaves Harry and lives the rest of her life alone because she can’t find love in anybody else.

She almost considers staying with him. Almost. But there is no way she can stay together with him and live her entire life being hated by somebody who means more to Harry than she does. She just can’t.

“She’s right, Harry. This whole thing—all of this is a mistake. We’re too different, this isn’t right.” She sobs.

She really doesn’t mean it, but she does believe that there is some truth behind her words. They should have known this was never going to work out, no matter how much they do love each other. 

Love can’t always win.

“No!” Harry barks, pressing his forehead so hard onto hers he wouldn’t be shocked if he broke his skull from it. “You don’t dare say that shit to me. You don’t say that to me.”

Y/n shakes her head, pushing him off of her as hard as she could. It breaks her heart to not feel him pressed up against her, but she needs to do this for both of their sake.

“That’s your sister, the way she spoke to me.”

“I don’t care. I’ll never let her in again, she won’t have any fucking sense in this, baby. Nothing will get in our way.”

But she just can’t.

“I’m so sorry, Harry.”

Harry swears he feels his heart ripping in half at her words. His body feels completely detached, like every bone is breaking and all he has left to do is fall in front of her. He holds onto her legs like it’s his last hope. His sobs draining out everything in his head and all he can fucking feel is the mix of his heart being taken right out of his chest and her hands running softly through his hair.

“Please, Y/n.” Is the only thing is brain can muster: Please, please, please. Any source of desperation to keep her with him, that’s the only thing his brain can register.

He grips onto her legs tighter, his forehead pressed against her knees. He feels her tug at his hair, hears her cry and curse under her breath. 

This wasn’t supposed to happen.


She sighs, one last cry ripping from her.

“I can’t.”

Caught Off Guard // Im Jaebum (M) (AU!)

Originally posted by jitonic

Pairing: Jaebum x Reader

Genre: Smut, Officer!Jaebum, Dom!Jaebum

Summary; After stealing an expensive bracelet with the intentions of pawning it for cash, you get arrested by the malls security officer - and you offer him a deal he can’t refuse.

This scenario is rated M for MATURE as it contains smut - rough sex, handcuffs, general behaviour that you would actually go to jail for so please do not aTTEMPT THIS AT HOME YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

Keep reading

Artemis has cancer.

I just typed that out and wailed for about five minutes.  It doesn’t seem real. I took him in to the vet today because he had a pustule on his leg.  He’s had it off and on for years and we’ve seen vets about it before but they always just say it’s a pustule.  Nothing major, right?


We’ve confirmed cancer cells at this point.  We’re putting him on steroids to minimize it before removing it completely - hopefully next week.  After that, we’ll find out staging and where to go from there.

I’m not asking for money.  We have savings, so we’ll cover it.  Whatever needs to be done.  I’ll put it on a credit card.  I’ll take out a loan.  Whatever I have to do to fix this.

I just want good thoughts his way.  If you light a candle, grab a picture of it and send it to me.  I want to collage them later, when this is all behind us, the spells have worked and he’s back to healthy.  We’re specifically looking for candle lighting between Thursday, November 23rd at 7:00 pm CST and Friday, November 24th through the end of the day.  You can read about that specifically here.

It has to work.  So please, make it work.

Sometimes life takes time

As a kid, I wanted to be one of two things: either a paleontologist or an astronaut. I dreamed of going to Space Camp. I loved dinosaurs and books about the La Brea Tar Pits. I was certifiably obsessed with both space and Earth’s history. As I went through school it was obvious that I was adept at both art and science. 

I was encouraged to pursue the art end of things by my mom; my dad supported me no matter what I did. I struggled a little with math near my senior year, though I was hardly failing and got As and Bs in all my classes, including precalc and physics. Still, I decided to pursue art.

I went to college out of high school on a full scholarship and attended SUNY Oswego for graphic design. I still had to take out some loans but I got my BFA. I took one freelance job and realized: I hated it. Art was fun and I was good at it but… I hated freelance work. 

My mom suggested I try becoming a teacher, so I did that. I got my teaching degree from Indian River Community College in Florida, which is a 7-week program because Florida is really desperate for teachers. I worked as a teaching assistant for a few years but… I was bored. Really bored. 

I went to Florida State University for one semester (again using loans), deciding I was going to become an oceanographer. But I failed college algebra and decided I was too stupid for science. 

Feeling like absolute shit about myself, I joined the Navy. I studied for the ASVAB and got a 97, almost the highest score possible even though that test has math on it. I ended up in a fairly technical job, repairing the electrical systems on F18s. I had to learn some math and some science for my job and noticed I was… actually pretty good at it. 

I spent 4 years in the Navy and got out, deciding I’d go back to school to become a teacher (again) but only as a backup, and my goal would be getting a Master’s and Doctorate in planetary geology. I came to Central Michigan University. I had to take college algebra again… and I aced it. Nearly got a 100%. I was floored. I took algebra II and also aced it. 

It was halfway through that second semester I decided to throw caution to the wind: fuck it all, I was going to become a scientist. So I dropped the teaching major and joined the Geology major. I proceeded to pass algebra II and  trigonometry with As. 

I’m now entering my fourth semester here at CMU. 

I’m taking calculus 1 this semester, calc II in the spring. I’m going to be picking up math as a minor beneath my geology major. I’m looking at grad schools and already planning where I want to go (University of Washington, I’m looking at you!). 

Life isn’t always linear. I’m 32 years old and halfway through a new bachelor’s degree, with at least 6 more years of school ahead of me before I’ll land my dream job of planetary geology, although I could still potentially switch to Earth-based geology (I do still love the ocean, don’t get me started on mid-ocean ridges). I’m keeping my options open at this point because I know that things may not turn out how I’ve planned them. Yes, I have some college debt but I’m ok with that. Yeah, I literally have -$300 in my bank account but I’m okay with that, this is my dream and it’s worth it. 

Do not feel like a loser if you’re 24 and not in your dream job. Don’t lose hope if you’re struggling, if your situation seems boring and endless. Don’t be afraid of student loan debt; I know some people are terrified of it for some reason but you really don’t have to be. Go out there and DO IT, if you can. If you’re in a place where you have to wait, then knuckle down and bear it out. I had to wait out 4 years in the Navy to get where I am. I had to get an entire degree that’s basically worthless to get where I am. I’ve literally lived three different lifetimes to get where I am: artist, teacher, military. 

I’m 32 and my life is just barely beginning.