genre: angst

Fic Recs 6/28/15

I attempted to do this a few days ago and google chrome crashed and I was too lazy to do it over so here I am now attempting again.  :)

A Thousand Miles From Comfort

In which Louis is a closeted gay actor and a recovering addict with a troubled past. Harry is the personal trainer who helps him get his life back in shape.

With Liam as Louis’ childhood best friend, Zayn as a famous R&B artist, and Niall as a fanboy.

we’ll play hide and seek to turn this around (give me love like never before) 

au where harry paints his nails and drinks strawberry milk and is too nervous for it to be nothing and louis’ just trying to figure out whats wrong with him

cause all that you are is all that i’ll ever need

the strawberry milk sequel; where harry still needs help, louis’ trying to give it to him, liam rents a van, zayns a bit protective of his best mate, and nialls there to tie it all together

Wild And Unruly

Harry is a cowboy sitting on the biggest oil reservoir in Wyoming, and Louis is the paralegal assigned to pressure him into selling his land.

Patchwork People

Louis knew cardboard furniture and the carpet biting into his cheek as he tried to sleep, while Harry knew the luxury of a warm bed.
Louis could sell drugs faster than a card dealer could shuffle his deck, but Harry believed in flowers and peace and walking barefoot everywhere he could.
Louis just wanted to make it to tomorrow.

Somehow, they meet in the middle, and once they become a part of each other….well, tearing away the stitching might lead to permanent damage.

Featuring punk, drug dealing Louis with the appropriate number of tattoos and flowerchild, yoga instructor Harry with too many flower crowns at his disposal.

(warning: might make you tear up but its a happy ending)

for now (and forever) 

Louis is going into the Army, Harry is going nowhere, and there’s nothing like a little identity fraud between friends.

Take Off Your Running Shoes

AU- Harry is the fit supermarket check out boy. Louis wants to sleep with him. Summer romance ensues.

Happy Reading!

anonymous asked:

50 followers, #25, February 29th; Biospecialist!

Grant is going over some old mission reports – certain there’s some clue he’s missing and it’s nagging at the back of his mind. He’s still dusty and dirty from his mission – sore and aching. He came into his little hole of an office straight after his debrief and he hasn’t left yet because he – and his superior officer – believe they’re missing something.

He’s not expecting a knock on the door and he’s certainly not expecting one of the desk agents to peer around it and smile at him. He shifts, deliberately showing his left hand – and then mentally cursing. Because of course he couldn’t wear his ring on his mission and he hasn’t had a chance to put it back on yet. There’s not even a mark from it because while he goes against orders to wear it when he’s not in the field they have a special tan spray thing to make sure the skin looks the same as the rest. (Sometimes he gets to show that he’s not wearing his ring, but those missions always make him feel even more scuzzy.)

He considers smiling – Jemma is always on him to smile more – but the way the agent is sashaying, taking her time crossing the tiny space to the front of his desk, makes him know that smiling would only encourage her.

“What?” he snaps, irritated already and a little harsh. He hasn’t seen Jemma in, what, nearly three months now? Just the reminder has him on edge and now that he’s not on a mission and doesn’t have to play the role he doesn’t want to.

Her smile falters and she lays a pile of mail across his desk, leaning over it to give him what he thinks is supposed to be a sweet smile. “Some things for you – let me know if you need to talk about it.” He scoffs, audibly, like he’s going to accept some desk agent’s help to work through his mission. (Which is exactly what he’s going to do, if you replace desk agent with biochemist – but Jemma’s lack of field experience doesn’t affect her ability to comfort him.)

He scowls after her and waits until she leaves to rustle through the missives. Most of them are notes from other Specialists, not where they are or when they’ll be back but just quick “Gone for now, lets get lunch sometime”, and then one “Hey man, tell me when you get back,” from Trip. He smiles and considers calling the other man right then, but there’s some envelopes that are probably about future missions so he puts it off.

At the bottom of the stack there’s a thick envelope that’s not from SHIELD. He arches an eyebrow at the return address – some law firm he doesn’t recognize the name of – but slides his knife under the flap. There’s no way it’s got anything dangerous in it – SHIELD wouldn’t let that sort of thing past the first desk.

He pulls the stack of papers out, bemused, and skims.

He lets out a sharp breath and sits down heavily before starting at the top and reading every word carefully. He can feel his heart in his throat and there’s tightness like he can’t breathe in his chest and a rushing in his ears.

He reads the front page twice before flipping through the papers, a little frantic, to find where her name is written – her signature looking like a dozen jagged little points which is, not incidentally, what his chest feels like when he sees the date next to her signature.

February 29th. It’s from less than half a week after he left on his latest mission. She couldn’t have – there’s no way any law firm would’ve had turn over time that good. She had to have set it in motion before –

He can’t think.

He can’t breathe.

He puts the papers down, carefully because all he wants to do is rip them to shreds and then light them on fire but if Jemma –

He rests his face in his palms and tries to breathe through the pain and the panic.

Less than seventy-two hours ago he had eight guns trained on him while he was completely unarmed in only his boxers.

This is so much worse.

That he knew he could get out of – survive.

He doesn’t know if he’s going to survive his wife – Jemma – asking him for a divorce.
the colour of grief

summary: currently, phil is living inside the memory of an accidental purple paint crime scene; inside the boy with dark curls and dried watercolour fingers and eyes full of fear, staring at a bewildered phil lester from a refuge of scaffolding and star stains.

words: 4,843

a/n: this was originally just supposed to be cute angsty artist dan ft. university student phil, but it evolved into this and idk why it did but i’m sorry and i hope u enjoy 

Okay, so I know everyone loves them some butterfly bog babies, but what if Marianne and Bog couldn’t have babies because they just didn’t have compatible parts? They’d watch helplessly as Sunny and Dawn have all these beautiful children, while no matter how hard they try, they just can’t .

I made myself sad…

anonymous asked:

I just started reading yesterday and I am very thankful for your writings!! Could I please request something Aomine, perhaps angst with a happy ending sobs precious basketball bby

Glad you like our work! ^-^ Please continue to support us and let your friends know about us as well, we have something special planned in the future! For now enjoy your request!! -Admin Fyre

I’ll be there. I promise. You trust me, right?

Man, how Aomine regretted saying that now. He knew that you didn’t like it when he was late. But Tetsu and that idiot Kagami and the others had asked him to play street basketball, so how could he possibly refuse? And he’d persuaded you to let him go, promising he’d be home for dinner. He hadn’t had any fun in so long; he was a cop, for God’s sake. Especially with the recent mugging attacks at night that forced Aomine to work late, having a chance to go out with friends and let out some steam was hard to come by. He’d used that same argument to make you let him go, too.

Of course he was late. Aomine could already picture your disappointed expression, the things you would say. But first he needed to get home and apologise.

Keep reading

The  Last First Time (6/?)

Chapter 6 on AO3

From the Beginning on AO3

John and Sherlock meet in the lab at Bart’s. It’s not their first first meeting, but God willing, it will be their last. They’ve lived a dozen lives already, each ending with one of them dying early and tragically. The trajectory of all these past lives has brought them together again, at St. Bart’s, in London, in 221B. John is convinced that this Sherlock has it in him to change their fate and give them peace at last.

(Chapter 6 - in which there is a resolution to unrequited love)


Things are not unfolding as Sherlock imagined they would.

John has finished his meal at Angelo’s, has taken his time returning to Baker Street. He’s been walking, wandering, thinking. He’s come to a conclusion, but it’s not the conclusion Sherlock expected.

John is standing by the door, gazing solemnly at Sherlock. He has been there for some time – quietly watching Sherlock play.

“You know – I’d never have time for a child.” John says as he moves into the kitchen and places the groceries on the counter. “You’re pretty much a full-time commitment already and I’ve only been here a few weeks. I’m not – ” He falters, then swallows, steels himself as he edges a toe over a line they never cross. “I’m not going to lose you again – not like last time.”

By unvoiced agreement, they do not speak of endings, nor of the time spent without the other once one of them has departed.

“John – don’t.” Sherlock’s voice holds a warning, but John – stubborn, decided – pushes forward, ignoring it.

“We never talk about it. Maybe that’s our problem.”

“No.” Sherlock tries to move around John and return to the sitting room, but John steps in front of him.

“Sherlock – we need to talk about Oslo.”


Sherlock is still holding his violin. He turns from John now, faces the window, lifts the instrument to his shoulder. Raises the bow, pauses a second too long.

“They said – they said you were queer.” John’s voice is unexpectedly rough.

Sherlock turns slowly. He doesn’t have to ask who they are. He knows. He holds John’s gaze, unflinching.

And here it is – just like that. The moment of truth.

Not with a bang but a whimper.

But he knows John. Knows him like the back of his own hand, the scar on his wrist, the face in the mirror.

He affects a matter-of-fact attitude.

“They were right,” he says. “John….”

John shakes his head. He is powering through this, settling this matter once and for all.

“You’ve always been. Every time. Haven’t you?”

Sherlock examines his hands. He earned the scar, at the juncture of palm and wrist, when he was nine, examining his grandfather’s antique cigar cutter. It is a reminder, in this lifetime, of a quiet gentleman who smelled of tobacco, who was never too busy to answer the young boy’s questions.

Grandfather – if you had to choose – would you rather be blind or deaf?

Grandfather, you do love me more than you love Mycroft, don’t you?

Grandfather – is everything just a coincidence or does it happen on purpose?

Sherlock flexes his fingers, stiff from playing, and looks out the window as the shadowy figure of a man long gone slips away.

You’ve always been. Every time.

“That doesn’t matter.”

It’s the only thing that matters.

Keep reading
things you said while i was crying

summary: “i was throwing things, breaking things, punching walls, screaming bloody hell at everything that was eating me inside. i was miserable. i hated all the things that ever made me happy. well, that is for one thing.”

genre: angst + fluff. it has a happy ending.

a/n: this is kind of corny and poetic but i like it. i literally wrote this all in the tumblr text thing without stopping. i just kept typing and this came out, so here you go. have some of my ramblings.

xtra tags: drabble pls

In Control

In Control


Word Count: 5.1K

TW: underage sex, underage drinking, swearing, kinks, stuff like that, kinda sad fwb

Summary: Dan gets drunk and confesses some embarrassing things to Phil, which results in things developing between them.

A/N: This was supposed to be something quick and easy but it became a monster like Black Eyes I’m sORRY anyways no I’m not back but I’m procrastinating pbb so here!


Keep reading


Some people asked who my baby is so here’s a small story

This is Angst. Angst is a character I created one night when I was having an anxiety attack. I just drew this white fae girl and found out that it helps making the attacks go away. I have been drawing her since then as she helps me through hard times and her simple design makes me relax. She means alot to me and I’m happy that people is curious about her.

Thank you for allowing me to share my baby with you <3

theterritorialpissings asked:

okay what about - mika, ferid, yu, guren, shinya, crowley (probably spelt his name wrong), lacus welt, and anybody you wanna add too - meeting the reader of an opposite race (vampire/human) somewhere (mika meeting a human one, guren meeting a vampire one) and them kinda like love at first sight :^) thank you! and i love your one-shots. good luck with em

psst requests are open!

{thanks! i like how you added lacus lmao; these are going to be a little challenging since there are so many people}

m i k a; he couldn’t bare to watch as his enemy lifted their body up to lay against the door of an abandoned car. who knew someone even looked beautiful when they sputtered out blood? mika quickly rushed to them and their eyes widened a fraction at the closeness. maybe, just maybe, I could save them in time.

f e r i d; he’d watch as they struggled to get their weapon, crawling on their stomach. he easily kicked it a few feet away and crouched in front of them. even in your last dying breath you remain loyal to your own. i admire that. you’re coming with me.

y u u; never ever did think that he’d fall for a vampire. their eyes met and he felt like his knees were bucking beneath them. the vampire casually made their way toward him, but crowley appear out of nowhere and put a hand on their shoulder and they looked between the two males. we’ll meet again.

g u r e n; their blades would collide and smug looks would be exchanged. you know you’re pretty good. he said as they struggled against each other. i never thought that a human would compliment me. you’re actually kinda hot, too. now that really had caught him off guard and soon his body was kicked to the floor. their boot in the middle of his chest, yet his smirk never faltered. you’re kinda hot for a vampire. the grin on their face widened. oh, i’ll definitely make use of you.

s h i n y a; his gun would be aimed straight at their face and they’d close their eyes, a tear ran down their cheek. just end this pain already. he had never seen a vampire cry before, let alone one that looked absolutely stunning to doing it. he lowered his gun. but that would be a waste of a beautiful women.

c r o w l e y; you know you’re the possibly the cutest human i have ever seen. he whispered, lips brushing the side of their ear. they completely froze in place. they know that voice. said human dared to face the 190cm [Goddamn] vampire who was absolutely stunning. they couldn’t help but feel flustered. don’t worry you’ll be safe with me.

la c u s; his ruby eyes landed on their beautiful, oblivious, human figure. now was his chance. he bit his lip until blood dribbled down his lip and stealthily made his way behind you. boo. they drew their weapon, but he wasn’t looking bloodshed. he leaned in toward their face until their lips touched and his blood entered their mouth. the human was too shocked to realize what was happening and the liquid was accidentally consumed. an odd surge rushed through them. you’re mine now.