also lol the angst

i really, really want a plot where muse a is a naive, sweet, romantic, whimsical little thing with a whole lot of optimism and sunshine in their veins and muse b is the complete opposite; a total player who has someone new in their bed every weekend and hates responsibilities and just spends a lot of their time fucking around. somehow these two have been friends for a while, despite their differing personalities, and one day muse a ends up having to move out of their apartment due to a fire or an infestation or something and muse b is the one who offers to put them up for the time being. it’s all well and good except muse a has terrible nightmares constantly and one night muse b is sick and tired of it (and deep down a little concerned) so gets into bed with muse a until they stop crying and shaking and fall asleep in muse b’s arms instead. cue awkward muses sleeping in the same bed every night and it actually helping muse a a lot with the nightmares, and lots of cuddling and feelings ensue. muse b, being the player they are, are terrified of the idea of liking someone but muse a is pretty much already head over heels and ANGST !!

Shatt Angst Train™

        I’m just kinda imagining Shiro being Ultra Guilty about not being able to find Matt after his escape, and feeling really bad about injuring him and then never seeing him again. Shiro probably gets really worried that Matt will hate him and he can’t really remember much so hurting Matt is really most of what he remembers of Matt during their time in the Galra prison. Meanwhile, Matt probably knows that Shiro feels bad, probably thinks about how Shiro will remember hurting him, how Shiro will feel guilty and Matt wants to tell him that he’s ok, that he’s not mad, but he can’t and it’s killing him. 

  •         Shiro tries to cling as much as he can to the bits of Matt he can remember, and he wants to remember it all because he knows he might never see Matt again. Sometimes if he’s walking to his room late at night he’ll hear quiet sobs coming from Pidge’s room. Shiro knows that it’s all his fault. If he’d only been better, or smarter, he could have done something. He should have tried harder and he shouldn’t have been so impulsive. And now the image of Matt’s terrified face after he attacked him is burned into his memory.

  •     Sometimes Matt wonders whether Shiro is dead and if he does get free, if he’ll ever see Shiro again. And then, suddenly, all Matt can see is Shiro’s pained face as he whispers “Take care of your father,” as he gets dragged away to fight.  Oh god, how Matt hopes Shiro got away somehow, but he knows in his heart that Shiro might have died even moments after he was taken away from the arena.

  •    Sometimes, when he can catch a glimpse of the stars from inside the prison, Matt will look out and wonder if Shiro really did make it out. He’ll wonder if Shiro is out there somewhere, or if he’s back on earth, and then, at the thought of Shiro back on earth, he realizes Shiro doesn’t know if he’s alive either. All he can imagine is Shiro having to explain to his mother and Katie, having to explain “I don’t know what happened to Matt,” and that’s when Matt vows that he’s going to escape some day. Because he has to make it back to his family, has to know what happened to Shiro.

  •    Not knowing, Matt thinks, not knowing is almost worse than a solid answer. At least if Shiro was dead he could begin to grieve, but as long as things are uncertain his heart won’t let him release the glimmer of hope. It won’t let him get rid of the fantasies of Shiro being safe and happy back on earth.

  •      Shiro knows he has to remain calm, he has to be the team’s leader and needs to stay strong. Yet every time Pidge announces she’s got some sort of lead, some kind of evidence that might lead them to Matt, he can’t help but feel a tiny glimmer of hope, and he tries to push it away because he knows Matt is probably dead.

  •     Shiro, too, decides that uncertainty is worse than knowing for sure that Matt is dead. Every Galra ship that they destroy, every ship that they watch explode, Shiro wonders if Matt is on there, and he wonders if Matt’s blood is on his hands again. He doesn’t know it, but Pidge thinks the same thing every time as well.

  •     In his darkest moments, when he feels like giving up, Matt remembers Shiro’s desperate face. He remembers Shiro’s voice, telling him to take care of his father. And Matt remembers back on earth, Shiro quietly reminding him to take care of himself, and how he’d reply the same way every time. “But who’s going to take care of you?” And Matt remembers that, and he remembers when he vowed that he’d make it out, for Shiro.

  •      If Shiro’s mantra during his time with the Galra was “Patience yields focus,” then Matt’s is that he has to make it out for Shiro. Even if Shiro is dead, Matt knows the least he can do is escape instead. The least he can do is let Shiro’s family know too, because Matt knows for every time he thinks of his father, of Katie, of his mother, that Shiro must be thinking of his family too.

  •        At some point, Pidge picks up on Shiro’s carefully concealed emotions every time she shares any information about finding Matt, and she makes sure she lets him be the first to know anything she finds. After that, they cling to each other trying desperately to find the reassurance that only the safe discovery of Matt can bring them.

  •         Shiro still thinks Pidge might resent him a little for when he tore her away from the Galra ship on Arus, when the robeast was coming. He understands her reasoning, that she would be willing to risk serious injury to find any clue about Matt. He would too, but he knows that they could have died, and that dead men cannot find Matt. She never picked up on the desperation in his voice, the conflict in his expression. He wonders if he had stayed another moment, if they would have found Matt. Shiro tells himself that living in the past is foolish, even as he replays Matt’s fearful expression in his head for the millionth time.

  •       Matt finds that missing Shiro is like losing a part of yourself, like a dull ache that fades but never really goes away, and that it is like a million instant replays of Shiro’s desperate expression. Shiro finds that missing Matt is like the anxiety of misplacing something important, like a persistent thought in the back of his mind, there at all times, and that it is like a million instant replays of the fear and shock in Matt’s eyes.

  •        Every time Shiro glimpses Pidge out of the corner of his eye, it’s like a stab to his heart. When he was first being rescued back on Earth, when he first caught sight of Pidge he thought that she was Matt. They look so similar, especially now that she’s cut her hair short, and he tries to hide his pain because he is the leader and he needs to be strong for his team. He can’t let them know how broken he is inside, how every time he sees Pidge, he thinks he breaks a little bit more.

  •      During the battle with Zarkon, when they’re losing, and everything is going wrong, Shiro thinks of Matt. He thinks of his last glimpses of Matt, he thinks of what Matt was like back on Earth, and he decides that he can’t die now. He has to live, because he just knows that Matt is out there somewhere. He knows Pidge got new data from Slav’s prison, which gives him hope. And Shiro knows he can’t let himself die knowing that the last Matt saw of him was when he was being attacked.

  •        Matt doesn’t know why, but one day, he’s managed to catch a glimpse of the stars through a window, and something just feels terribly wrong. He thinks of Shiro, at the exact same moment the team is running towards the Black Lion, only to find it empty, to find Shiro missing. Then, Matt is dragged away from the window and everything is the same as always, and still he repeats to himself that he has to make it out for Shiro.

In light of recent Holby City spoilers I currently feel like trash because I’m kinda really excited?!?
Obviously I’m not some kind of sadist, but the thought of CR & JR having something so dramatic to sink their talented teeth into thrills me. Oh and call me naive- but I truly think Holby City will dodge the death trope for Berena, and things may be angsty as hell but it’s storytelling and it’s air time for our ship and it’s a platform for our two faves to shine. Bring it on.
(I’ll be crying and screaming whilst the ep airs but I’m kinda trash for this-sorry)

why she stayed

summary: fan hate pushes you to leave jaebum for good, but it’s only so long before you remember all the reasons why you stayed in the first place. for this beauty’s request

relationship: jaebum x reader

words: 3,849

warnings: mentions of self-hate, depressing themes, bullying

Originally posted by got7kings

a/n: i would recommend listening to “you should be here” by kehlani to get a feel of jaebum’s pov :)

It’s quiet, the quietest your shared home with Jaebum has ever been, and the silence was suffocating.

Jaebum hadn’t done much of anything since that fateful day two weeks ago, when you had grabbed a bag and stuffed it full of everything that wouldn’t remind you of him and left. You had been kidding yourself though; every possession of yours, every memory that predated your relationship, even every breath reminded you of someone who wasn’t there. It had been driving you insane as much as the silence had been driving Jaebum insane.

He’d wake, in the sheets you two had picked out together four months ago, to see the bathroom door cracked open (you hated the bathroom door being open at night), and his day would start painfully.

He’d put on slippers that you had painstakingly attempted to shuffle around the house in time and time again despite the obvious shoe size difference, would pour coffee into mugs with puppies on them that you had bent over laughing in the middle of the store about, would stare past starry patterned curtains draping the living room windows that you had told him reminded you of the night sky from back home. He would wake and live and survive, and each day would somehow, somehow, feel more painful than the last. At night, right before he would fall asleep without your warmth against his back, he’d wonder how you were, if you were thinking of him as much as he you, and then he’d force his eyes closed only to dream in colors of you.

And it wasn’t like you were having the best time either.

Keep reading

newtscamder  asked:

that is. such a good ship. please give me more.

(are we talking about flintwood here bc i will always give you more flintwood)

feel-good headcanons to consider:

  • Oliver attempting to sneak into the Slytherin dormitories for a) spending time with Marcus purposes and b) stealing Marcus’ quidditch playbook purposes
    • getting caught kicking angrily at the Slytherin dorm entrance by none other than said boyfriend
    • “you’ll break ur leg like that” “i’ll break yours if you don’t let me in”
  • midnight flights on the quidditch pitch?? with lots of bickering and taunting and daring the other to fly faster and them winding up in a heap on the lawn and staring up at the sky
  • locker room make-outs because #cliche
    • stealing each other’s jerseys to wear because #morecliche
  • date/bar nights at a pub near their flat - they take a booth at the very back, debate over the latest game, and both wind up tipsy and laughing over their butterbeer and playing footsies under the table
  • their respective teams trying to hide their laughter when they get into shouting matches when they’re playing against one another
  • morning runs aka Oliver shoving a groaning Marcus out of bed 
    • they’re that couple with matching workout gear lol what losers
    • inevitable race for the showers
    • “oh for - let’s just share?” “don’t try to trick me into letting you win”
  • winding up on the same team after a couple of years into their quidditch careers, and basically being a formidable offense and defense
  • “if you score ten goals in your next game, i’ll do that thing you like”
  • accidentally burning dinner because they got distracted by each other in the kitchen, and ending up ordering take-away and tangled up on the couch
  • “surprise! we have a dog now” “what the fuck
  • Marcus always always overspending on gifts because he doesn’t know how not to spoil Oliver
  • Marcus purposely digging his cold feet under Oliver’s ass
  • Oliver purposely using all the hot water the next morning in retaliation
  • wrestling matches, but like - for fun.
  • both of them being stupidly overprotective over the other when they’re injured e.g. no you’re just going to keep your ass in bed and i’ll do everything, okay?? okay.
  • “you love me” “no i don’t” “Marcus, we’re married” “that means nothing”
  • anyways, the #flintwood tag has a lot more bc this is getting too long oops

how does one draw snow in SAI again…

anyhow, here’s a fanart for @pemprika‘s werewolf!yuu AU! >w< i haven’t done any proper colouring in a while so this was sort of a challenge for me as well TwT

i hope you like this!~ ;v;

// i f  i  b e l i e v e  y o u //

the 1975 drabbles

if i believe you + punk!jungkook

// if i’m lost then how can i find myself? //

Jungkook was an absolute legend on stage.

“Are you guys having fun tonight?” he asked seductively to the crowd, making sure to press his lips as close to the mic as possible. Excited screams erupted from the venue and you smiled widely to yourself. No matter how many shows you attended, you were always entranced by his presence on stage. He had so much charisma, with the way he looked out into the crowd with sultry eyes to how his raspy voice rambled over the lyrics he wrote himself, a lot of them unsurprisingly about you.

You could remember the first day you met Jungkook. He looked like he popped off a page of Rolling Stone, wearing nothing but black (black skinny jeans, black t-shirt, black leather jacket, black Doc Martens…) and his signature smirk. It was odd to see him scanning the aisles of a bookstore, but when he later explained that he was trying to find a book for his best friend, you only found it endearing.

Everyday since then, you have found yourself attached to the punk rocker who had a specific soft spot for someone by the name of Y/N. From the way he sang you to sleep at night to how he had a secret passion for Disney movies or even how he always burnt the pancakes no matter how hard he tried. Dating Jeon Jungkook was nothing short of perfect, but you couldn’t help but feel a little…lost.

He had a set path and a mind full of dreams. His band was gaining so much momentum that it was almost too hard to keep up with. More and more gigs began to pop up, and there was even rumors about a record deal dancing in the air. It’s amazing, definitely, but it also made you feel like you didn’t have your own life. You toured with him, helping out backstage however you could or simply keeping him company when he was feeling low and homesick. His world was bright and loud and exciting, while you didn’t even know if you had a world.

But then Jungkook would kiss you, and you could find your purpose all over again.

Hands grabbed at your arms suddenly, jolting you out of your trance. You looked up from your spot by the stage to see your boyfriend, grinning widely as he pulled you up close enough to him so that he could lock his lips to yours. He was sweaty and breathing hard, but he still tasted like spearmint and happiness. His guitar- that he had haphazardly swung onto his back- pressed against your shoulder, reminding you just where you were. But in that moment, you tried really hard not to care. All you focused on was the beautiful, dark boy softly kissing you like it was his last minutes on Earth, and in that moment, you decided:

If loving Jungkook meant that you were lost, you didn’t care if you’d ever find yourself.

Clap of Thunder, Usnavi de la Vega x Reader

Prompt:  Hi there ! I know it’s not really a prompt but could you do a usnavi x reader soulmate au ?

Word-count: 1,933 (Woo, boy I was cutting it close.)

Warnings: Like, maybe one curse word? I think? Also, angst. The dark blue, silkier kind. 

Note: Lol I’m not at a hundred, although I’m supposed to post this when I reach a hundred. I couldn’t wait. 

This stuff is angsty, I gotta warn you now. It has a happy ending, don’t worry, but don’t expect the regular sunny Usnavi (this functions a bit as a character study in that regard). Hope you enjoy the trash! 

P.S.: I referenced a fic on ao3 for the mantra, thought I would put it out there!

When it all came down to it, Usnavi was practical.

See, people would say differently; his own childish idealism when it came to the distant seas and golden, sun-drenched beaches of his homeland would contrast sharply with his own self-proclamations of pragmatism. But Usnavi rejects the notion that human beings were capable of being either one thing or the other, so he stands in the middle, comfortable if a little tense at times.

(He’d risked the thought that maybe they couldn’t take him all that seriously when he was recklessly awkward and sometimes too sunny, and also a little bit irritating at times. It would fit in with their assumption.) (And not to mention, he was all of those things. But it also happened that he was all of those things and more.)  

If anything, he would say that his pragmatism stemmed from the stiff, black-and-white nature of how he saw things. Quite literally. It was almost ironic, how he could compose soliloquies and sonnets about the beauty of the Dominican Republic (in that he was sure of, never mind the fact that he actually didn’t know what gold or sea foam or crystalline looked like) and the only things he could see on a day to day basis were the endless swatches of gray and coal and white.

He didn’t know which one of his parents bore the deficit, or maybe if it was perhaps both of them, because Abuela Claudia didn’t know, and all the keepsakes his parents had passed on was given to Abuela to filter.

And as much as he liked to believe in the power of things like love and honest goodness and (the reason for his own predicament) soulmates, when you are robbed by loss at such a young age, it’s hard not to keep a reminder around just in case you start selling yourself too hard to whimsical fantasies:

There is more to life than love. There is more to love than joy.

Usnavi kept that reminder close to his chest, and soon it was routine to mutter it to himself, as routine as wiping down the counters of his bodega, as routine as smiling at Vanessa and scolding Sonny as he was, once again, late.

There is more to life than love. There is more to love than joy.

Benny ran to him first when he started seeing color, and Usnavi couldn’t help it, he felt a stab of envy he couldn’t tap down quick enough.

“I see green, man.” Benny breathed, in awe. “And it’s more beautiful than I thought it was going to be.”

“Really?” He couldn’t keep the straight wonder out of his voice.

“It’s almost alive, man. It’s practically breathing.”

“That’s amazing, Benny.” he said, patting his friend on the back. The man barely noticed him, still looking at the overarching planes of grass that stretched before them in the form of Central Park. They were all still varying shades of gray to Usnavi, but undoubtedly they were lush, exuberant hills to Benny now. He took the mantra out of his chest and started again.

There is more to life than love. There is more to love than joy.

Soon enough, the reason for Benny being able to see color was evident in the reappearance of Nina a few weeks later, looking more stressed than anything else but also looking around with wide eyes. She was seeing blue for the first time. On that very same day, their eyes met on the Rosario family dispatch and the burst of color was powerful enough to have them bowl over.

Usnavi wasn’t sure about too many things, but he was sure that he loved Vanessa. Never mind that he’d looked into her eyes and sure enough, he wasn’t able to see color the next second, but at that point, he was used to (and almost content with) living in a monochromatic world, and if he couldn’t have color, he would have Vanessa.

(She ended up finding her soulmate in her next-door neighbor in her new building, a girl named Georgia who owned three cats and had “the nicest pair of eyes I’ve ever seen”, according to Vanessa. Usnavi handled the news, her pitying gaze, with a grain of salt, and the typical repetition:

There is more to life than love. There is more to love than joy.)

He was on his way home from the bodega when it happened.

He had dropped something, a bag of groceries, and he had sighed, looked at the mess and bent down to pick up all that had fallen. He had put away the last carton of milk and was stretching back up to his normal height, but a flash of something stopped him.

The fire hydrant.

Usnavi had to rub at his eyes. There was no way. No.

He waited for the blur in his vision to fade (he had rubbed quite hard) and fixed his gaze on the fire hydrant again. There was no questioning it.

The fire hydrant was no longer gray.

It was angry, and hot, and colored so vividly it stabbed at his eyes. Red, he realized.

How much time he spent staring at that fire hydrant, he didn’t know. It was only when the brilliant light of the sun began to fade that he looked up. God.

There was so much to see.

It was in the middle of October, and almost everything was rendered into differing, varying shades of red. Usnavi stood there for what felt like forever, taking it all in. He recalled what Benny said to him about green.

It’s almost alive, man. It’s practically breathing.”

Perhaps it could apply to others?

He finally started moving, his hands going to his face and feeling a slight jolt at the wetness he found on his cheeks. With a great sniff, he wiped his nose on the sleeve of his shirt and departed to his apartment. He had a hell of a lot to tell Sonny.

There was apparently a new girl in town. Usnavi would be more curious about her if she wasn’t moving into Vanessa’s old apartment. (It was still a relatively fresh wound, and even if the telltale sign that his soulmate was near was literally right before his eyes, he had loved Vanessa, and that mattered.)

Sonny had delivered the news to him as he walked in the bodega one morning, as late as he ever was. He had talked to her, because he was Sonny and that was what he did.

“Really pretty,” Sonny said, hopping onto the counter Usnavi just wiped. “Really friendly. Also, single.”

Usnavi rolled his eyes. “I’ll consider it then,” he said, not really meaning it.

The next day however, he was at the doorstep of the aforementioned new girl, holding a cup of coffee and a pastry, hoping to be some kind of welcome wagon. He pressed the buzzer multiple times but to no avail. Instead, he dropped off the to-go cup and the pastry (it was in a bag anyway,) on the doormat.

He looked at the cup again, thinking. Before he could second-guess himself, he picked it back up, fumbled for the Sharpie he always kept in his pocket, and scrawled on the cup:

Hi there!

Consider this a Welcome to the Neighborhood gift.

The bodega across the street

He walked back, waving to anyone who stopped and said hello. The bell above the door tinkled as he made his entrance.

Sonny’s head popped up from behind the counter.

“Any luck?”

Usnavi shook his head. Sonny bit down on his bottom lip, but did not press the issue.

He’s only been seeing red recently. Benny said that he was supposed to be seeing more by now. Usnavi paid it no mind. The old mantra was still being put to use, although it was starting to rust a little.

There is more to life than love. There is more to love than joy.

He heard you before he saw you.

“Yeah, hi, is this, um, ‘the bodega across the street’? Okay, wow that was dumb. It’s just that, um, someone left coffee and a donut on my doorstep and it said it was from the bodega across the street and I checked and this was the bodega across the street and anyway—“

“Yes, we are indeed the, uh, ‘bodega across the street’.” Sonny said, amused. “Excuse the mystery, my cousin wrote that on your cup.”

“Oh.” There was a pause. “Can you tell your cousin ‘Thank you’? He didn’t have to do that, and it was honestly really nice that he did.”

Usnavi, all the while, was making another cup of coffee completely identical to the one he left on the doormat. He couldn’t understand what suddenly came over him, but he had heard you, and you sounded lovely, and all he knew was that he wanted to hear more. He was hastily pouring on foam when he heard Sonny say:

“Will that be all?”

“Yeah, that’d be all.”

Without thinking, he burst out of the back of the shop.


Sonny was smirking, and the cash register was open, the money already half-way into it, but his eyes sought out yours.

It was as sudden as a clap of thunder.

One minute, all was as it normally was, if for the stray shocks of red that stood out from the bleak backdrop of gray and black and white he was for so long accustomed to. He had so long settled himself into that world, had so long contented himself to that world completely devoid of color save for a scant handful. He had convinced himself, after all, that things like the promise of soulmates were seductive but seemed more distant than the Dominican Republic ever was. He had made peace with that didn’t he?

What was that old epithet he had attached to his heart the minute he understood that things like love and honest goodness and soulmates had the potential to turn on you as easily as they could welcome you with open arms?

“It’s you,”

And then the curse is broken, and he is looking at you, and the world is awash with life and renewed and reborn, and you are at the very center of it, with your eyes and your hair and your skin.

He stepped forward, slipped, because he had dropped the coffee the minute his eyes met yours and also because he is Usnavi and this kind of shit always happened. Sonny caught him around the waist and hauled him up, and when he felt himself stable enough, he planted his hands on the counter for extra leverage, and looked at you again.

There were tears in your (wonderful, wonderful) eyes as you looked back at him, and you were shaky on your feet (although you were certainly much more balanced than he was).

“It’s you,” you said. He nodded, trying to get rid of the molasses sticking the sides of his throat together.

He stuck his hand out, remembering to pass it along his pant leg to take off the sheen of cold sweat, cleared his throat. “Usnavi,” he said.

Your smile was bright, as bright as the yellow dress you wore. “Y/N,” you said, your hand slipping into his and a shock of pure, undiluted fire passed through him.

The laugh of absolute jubilation that escaped him was as irrepressible as the tears streaming down his face.

“Wonderful,” he said, ignoring Sonny and hopping over the counter. He grabbed your other hand.


Jake’s evolution of love toward Liv

- I like you.

- Maybe I can help you start fresh.

- Maybe I can help you not to be sad.

- Maybe I’m your do-over.

- Close.Your.Eyes

- I could cheer you up.

- It’s a date.

- I like a challenge. Wow, you really suck at dating.

- You’re special.

- I trust you.

- You know why are you mad at me? Because you like me.

- What is it? Back to work? What’s your excuse this time Olivia Pope?

- You’re not alone in this. I’m not going anywhere.

- You’re amazing.

- Because there’s something between us.

- I’m here if you need something. You can call on me.

- I know you.

- …and I just keep picturing your face.Your face saved me. I’m here because you saved me.

- I miss you.

- Just let me in.

- I wish you’d just stood in the sun with me.

- I asked you to save me, and you said no.

- I loved you. Whatever happens next, I want to make sure you know that I loved you. I love you.

- Run away with me Liv. Save me.

- We could run. We could just disappear. You just have to say a word.

- Stand in the sun with me.

- I’d like for us to stop being these people

- Tell me you felt it too. Tell me I’m not crazy. Tell me… You felt it too.

- That wasn’t you handling me. That was US.

- It feels like a first step.

- Take me with you, Liv. Run away with me. Save me. I want US to stand in the sun together.

- You’re leaving everything else behind. Don’t go alone. You don’t have to be alone.

- Man, do I love you. 

- Does that matter to you at all? She is loved. 

- I love her.

- We both know in the end you are not going to choose me. Not choosing me is okay.

- The only difference is that I’m in love with you.

request: 12 or 14 w Luke???

(12) “if you hate me so much, then why are you here?”

(14) “tell me you don’t still think about us” w/ luke

*note: hope you don’t mind that i did both! also, this is a tad long, so tuck yourself in, and enjoy.

The reminder came at precisely ten o'clock the morning before. “Babe and his entourage’s rock show tomorrow at 8:30” flashed across your screen. You need to make the event name something special, a memory jolted across your mind, paired with a pouty face, belonging to a boy who snatched your phone away, replacing the name with something goofy.

Your friend, who was seated across from you and your blind date raised an eyebrow when you sat frozen in your chair.

“Something earth-shattering?” she asked, her lips quirking into a smile. You quickly shook your head and slipped your phone back into the pocket of your skirt, your fingers nervously dancing together, wanting to talk to your long time friend in a more private setting. Instead, she was engrossed in her boyfriend, and the two were scrutinizing baby pictures of each other, having already moved on from your momentary lapse in time.

You placed your right elbow on the fancy tablecloth, and shifted so you were facing the guy your friend’s boyfriend had invited. He was scrolling through his phone, a bored expression on his otherwise handsome features.

“So…what kind of things are you interested in?” You decided to start with a safe, generic question, hoping to distract your mind from what it had seen just a few moments before.

“Whatever you’re interested in,” Your date replied with a lull in his voice, fingers swiping across the keyboard of his phone. He laughed at something a few minutes later.

You rolled your eyes and gathered your stuff. “I’ll see you later,” You bid your friend, who looked up momentarily to wave at you.

“It was nice meeting you.” You smiled at her boyfriend, who responded with an apologetic look.

“Call me.” Your date stated with an almost demanding tone, finally looking up at you.

You purposely ignored him.



The preset reminder went off at 4:45, and the recorded alarm was a familiar string of laughter. In your groggy state, you reached over on the other side on your bed, clasping a hand over the mouth of a person who wasn’t there - hadn’t been for a while now, actually. When your hand touched the cool fabric of the pillow, you were startled awake.

“Damn it, Luke.” You muttered, sitting upright in your bed, cancelling the second of five alarms that Luke had set for you nearly a year ago. Even though he was no longer your boyfriend, he still managed to integrate himself into your life, constantly reminding you of his presence.

You unlocked your phone, finger ghosting over the delete button, ready to rid yourself of the last connection you had to Luke.

But maybe it was the fact that you weren’t exactly prepared to let go just yet, or maybe it was simply that it was fucking four in the morning- either way, you couldn’t do it.

Taking several breaths, you grabbed the keys to your car and left for the venue.

Once you arrived, there were already groups of fans lined up conversing excitedly among themselves. You chose a relatively secluded spot near the end of line, and you spotted recognition in a few people’s eyes. They didn’t acknowledge you, other than an obligatory “hello” here or there. They didn’t know what had happened between you and Luke; they’d just decided that one of you had fallen out of favor with the other.

You smiled timidly, quietly making your way inside the stadium.

Your seat was one Luke’s side, naturally; he’d insisted you be right in his line of vision as he performed, knowing that your presence could calm his nerves. But now, your exalted position was no more than an inconvenience; you couldn’t decide if you wanted him to see you or not.

It was a good show; great even. It always was. At the end, you stalled behind a bit, wondering if Luke would notice you. All the boys had left the stage, so you began to make your way towards the exit.

“y/n.” A monotonous voice called out to you. You knew it was Luke. You turned, your face flushed with embarrassment.

“I’m sorry- this was a mistake, I shouldn’t have come-”

Luke’s hair was wet, and he wore a ripped tank, and his arms- god, he looked delicious. But he wasn’t yours anymore.

“I thought you weren’t gonna come.” Luke folded his arms, emphasizing the slight bulge of muscle in his arms.

You ducked your head. You wanted him to smile at you, wanted to feel comfortable around him again, wanted to feel like you still mattered to him. “I wasn’t going to - I hated you for leaving; I didn’t want to be reminded of why we couldn’t be together. Until yesterday I couldn’t even stand it if someone mentioned you in the slightest-”

If you hate me so much, then why are you here?” Luke didn’t meet your eyes.

“I just-” You rolled the thoughts around in your head, trying to find the perfect words. “Tell me you don’t still think about us.” You blurted, surprised at yourself.

Luke lifted his eyes, focusing on the top of your head. “Y/n…”

“Please.” You needed an answer. You were ready now. You had matured, you could handle this long distance relationship. You just needed to know if Luke felt the same way.

“Every moment of every day.” Luke responded, mostly under his breath. Then he repeated the words, his electric eyes staring into yours, making you feel like this was the first time. “And it fucking hurt because I knew you didn’t feel the same way. Did you know how much it stung when you deleted all your instagram pictures of us? Or how I try to keep up with our common friends just to ask how you’ve been? Or how we haven’t talked in months and you appear out of the blue- out of all places, on our tour?”

All your resolve had broken down then; tears fell down your trembling cheeks. You tried your best to blink them away, but to no avail. To your relief, two warm arms wrapped around your shoulders, allowing you to bury your face into the sanctuary of Luke’s neck, so familiar and warm.

“We’re so dysfunctional!” You laughed through your tears. “You’re leaving town tomorrow and the circles going to repeat itself and we’re going to go ‘round and ‘round until we get dizzy and fall into a black hole of our own making and-”

Luke silenced you with a wet kiss, his own salty tears mingling with yours. “I’ll take you with me,” he promised. “if you say you still love me.”

“You know I can’t come with you.”

Luke’s face fell.

“But for the record, I never stopped loving you.”

*note: i’m working through the requests chronologically, so please don’t stress if i don’t get to yours right away.

send me a boy + a prompt from one of these lists: (hogwarts) (breakup) (au) (angst)

Through The Looking Glass

Description: It’s fifth year. Glasses!Baz. Lots of angst. A lovely prompt from the even more lovely @flirtybaz.

Warnings: Glasses!Baz. Little bit of swearing.

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Slight!Peter x Reader x Caspian - Time

Request: Could you possibly write one where Peter is in love with the reader but is too shy to confess. And when he finally works up the courage, she has already started a relationship with Caspian

Slight!Peter x Reader x Caspian - Time
Setting: Prince Caspian
Contains: some angst lol.
Word Count: 548

Enjoy! Also, super sorry. I had a bit of Writer’s block for this one so I didn’t know much of what to do ;u;

Your name: submit What is this?

Peter glanced over at (Y/n) across the Stone Table in Aslan’s Howe. (Y/n) was tending to Caspian’s hand. He had declined Lucy’s healing cordial, he wanted to prove that he was strong. Minutes earlier, they fought a few of Jadis’ followers along with Jadis herself who was trapped in an ice block sort of thing. 

“Ow!” Caspian hissed and pulled his hand away.

Good,’ Peter thought when he saw Caspian in pain. 

“Stop being like a baby!” (Y/n) scolded and grabbed his hand once more. “I’m trying to help you Caspian.” 

‘Stop that, don’t help him anymore,’ Peter frowned when he noticed Caspian staring up at (Y/n). ‘No no no, only can look at her like that.’ Peter sighed, what was he doing with his life? He’s jealous? Oh come on, you’re the High King of Narnia! She’ll definitely fall for you. At least, that’s what Peter always told himself. 

“Are you okay, Peter?” (Y/n)’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. “You’ve been sighing a lot.” 

“Oh, uh, yeah I’m fine,” Peter answered quickly. (Y/n) stared at him for a few seconds longer to confirm if he was lying or not. Peter lightly blushed from her intense stare. She knew he was but she let him off this one time.

“Alright,” (Y/n) went back to cleaning up Caspian’s wound. Peter groaned, but this time he made sure not to groan out loud. Just on the inside, so basically he glared at Caspian instead.

Peter was putting on his armor with the helped of Edmund for his duel with Miraz. He didn’t realize he was frowning until Edmund stopped tightening his armor.

“Are you okay, Pete?” Edmund asked. “You’ve been frowning this entire time.” 

Peter looked at Edmund then over at (Y/n) who was helping Susan and Lucy for their ride with Caspian. 

“You know, if I were you I’d ask her out right now,” Edmund suggested. He gave the armor on Peter one last tug before patting him on the back. “You’re good to go. Seriously, go and ask her. Good luck.” Edmund walked away and by this time Susan and Lucy already went off into the woods. Caspian and (Y/n) was left standing there. 

Peter set off to go talk to (Y/n) and finally confess after many times in the past, in Narnia and on Earth, where he’d try but chicken out. 

(Y/n) and Caspian seemed to be in a deep conversation and just as Peter was about to approach the two…

“You know Caspian, you could have told me you liked me way before,” Cue Peter’s heart shattering. “because I really like you too… Did you feel a sort of thing when we first met and-”

“Time seemed to stop and all I could see was you?” Caspian finished. (Y/n) grinned and nodded her head. Peter turned away and quickly walked over towards Edmund, a few tears had filled his eyes. That usually rarely happens. 

“Pete, what happened you didn’t even talk to her,” Edmund asked. Then he noticed the tears on his big brother’s eyes and shut up. Edmund grabbed his brother’s shoulder and then gave him a hug. 

‘Why him? Out of all people… Why’d you fall for him?’ 

Jimin x Reader

Originally posted by vminv

This was a given request by a follower, so of course I had to write it up. It reaches 3,545 words, which is pretty cool. It’s angsty, but I made it a little fluffy since I had some leverage on a part of it.

Prompt: Your Jimin’s girlfriend, and you’ve been getting harassed by his fans. It’s become so terrible that they even managed hurt you while you were outside of your house, sending you to the hospital with minor injuries. You love Jimin, really, but it was becoming too much.

Enjoy! Especially @yanghyunsukmyass , who requested it!

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