good god and his voice


hoseok birthday bonanza!

day 06 - dancing

I can’t believe I just saw louis perform on jimmy fallon but I’m literally DEAD he’s so talented he performed the song twice and somehow only got better and better his voice was so GOOD oh my god and he was so hyperactive like jumping around and pointing his finger and stuff and he’s just the brightest human being on the planet??? he’s a star that fell from the sky holy shit I’m so proud of him and I’m so glad everyone is going to be able to see him perform KING OF ICONIC PERFORMANCES

someone help, tae is moving up my bias list at the speed of light aND I CAN’T STOP IT

You’re Beautiful (AAD drabble)

Very short Ant/Dec drabble, based on this prompt of @otpisms. I’m way too much on that blog.

“Pet? Are you awake?” Ant whispered.

Dec pulled himself in a sitting position with his eyes still half closed and hummed. Ant felt the butterflies in his stomach. Dec was stilled wrapped in his blanket, the wrinkles of his pillow were printed in his face and his hair stood up in all directions. Ant brushed down Dec’s hair and smiled. “You’re beautiful.” He whispered lovingly. Dec smiled shyly. Ant awed and pushed his lips softly on Dec’s. “Good morning, love.” He mumbled after the tender kiss. Dec smiled. “Good morning.” He whispered, his voice still raspy. “God, you’re cute.” Ant mumbled and he took Dec in his arms.

Ant wanted to stay in this moment forever.

a red signal—

Looking back, I’m so thankful we somehow managed to make things happen.

I wasn’t prepared for it. Call it cliche and whatnot, but it just felt like the universe was trying to send us a message, one that we only just received in time. It was partly my fault, for being so indecisive and the usual wreck that I am, but I can’t deny that she was hesitant too. I’ve long since forgiven her for her mistakes, though, and so has she for mine.

It was Wednesday, or ‘hump day’ as some people so gloriously call it. The Tube was packed to bursting, and I remember being unbearably close to an unkempt stranger in his late-twenties, his bomber jacket reeking of weed and his snapback hovering dangerously close to my eyes. All I could think about was trying to make it to the next stop, where thankfully I’d be able to squeeze my way through the crowd and run out into the sweet-tasting, polluted air above.

And just as this wonderful thought came to me, the train came to a lumbering, cruel halt in the middle of the tunnel.

“Sorry ‘bout that ladies and gents, we are currently being held at a red signal. Should be on our way in a couple minutes time, I do apologise for any inconvenience this has caused to your journey this evening.”

A chorus of sighs and grunts of frustration echoed throughout the carriage. I couldn’t help but exhale sharply, causing the rebellious man-child before me to recoil slightly in disgust before turning his back. I chose to make no comment; my fingers were itching for a light at this point.

After an eternity of internal suffering and unnecessary bodily contact, the train finally rumbled into action once more. I could hardly contain my anticipation for departing, shifting my weight from one foot to the other. The first thing I’d do was light a smoke, I told myself. The platform suddenly slid into view through the windows, and I began to edge and push my way toward the doors, but in my haste I must’ve caught my watch on someone’s handbag, for I suddenly felt myself dragging an unwilling passenger with me out the train.

“Hey, hey! Careful now!”

The colourful accent caught me off guard. I stopped trying to free myself and looked up at my captive. And I was stunned. The woman before me had a pair of inquisitive blue eyes, prompting me for an answer. Perhaps I was taking too long; the corner of her nude lips seemed to twitch at my stumbling hesitation.

“Sorry,” I blurted in a rush, stepping away from the edge of the platform with her. Clumsy fingers finally uncaught her strap from my watch. “So sorry.”

“That’s all right. I don’t blame you for wanting to get out in a hurry,” the stranger replied cheerfully, shrugging into her shoulder bag once more.

“I should’ve been more careful, I’m terribly embarrassed…”

“Please, stop apologising.” She flashed me a devious smile. “It was my stop anyway.”

We walked toward the exit sign together, fairly alone now in the breezy, dimly-lit tunnel. My heart was caught in my throat. Where were the words that usually came so easily? Why did I suddenly feel like all the years of flirtatious gambling and acquired skills had vanished in the blink of an eye? The escalators came into view. I let her on first, leaving a step between us, trying not to notice the cut of her navy shift dress and how they revealed a pair of lean, athletic legs.

“What do you do?” she asked me, tossing that mane of dark hair over one shoulder, sending me reeling with her scent.

“Ah, I’m in music.”

”Ooh, an artiste.”

I shook my head sheepishly. “Not quite. Piano teacher, for kids.”

“Oh. How disappointing,” she joked, and I laughed along with her, aware that the end of the escalator was fast approaching.

Click click. Two modest high heels stepped expertly toward the turnstiles. And in my muddled desperation at her leaving, I stood there for a second or two before I finally went after her, fingers grazing her elbow, and asked: “Could I have your number?”

We stared at each other. The sound of the city seemed to drown out for a heartbeat. I was dimly aware I was in another commuter’s way, but I felt rooted to the spot, my only desire in that moment to hear what this beautiful, funny stranger had to say. She seemed to debate it over and over, those blue eyes losing their warmth and openness, just for a little while, as she retreated within her mind.

Her lips started moving before it’d even registered in my brain. But the answer made me smile like a child, and as we parted and I went up the stairs and walked toward my apartment, all I could think about was that kind, Welsh voice—the thought of having a smoke long disappearing into the back of my mind—and how badly I wanted to tell Aubrey about this feeling, about what I felt to be something truly rare and fleeting.

”Meet me for lunch. Tomorrow, here at 12. I’ll decide then if you’re worthy or not.”

L is for love

Originally posted by black-little-demons

 You kept your eyes shut as you woke up.
Smiling, you felt a soft breath hit your face every few seconds. As you opened your eyes, you saw him there; his eyes shut peacefully and his arms tight around your figure. 

You didn’t want to wake him up just yet, you didn’t know when he had gotten in or how rough the hunt had been; but you couldn’t help yourself. Placing your lips on his elicited a small groan from him as he pulled you closer.

Keep reading

I don’t know. From the texts I receive from him, he’s all right, because he’s still being a little bit of a cheeky cunt. According to my mam he’s all right. But I don’t know.
—  Noel Gallagher about his brother, 2015 [x]

he watched her, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, silently begging her to just speak her mind. to just say what she was feeling.

but she stared at her feet, played with her clothes, looked anywhere but him. “please,” he whispered, reaching out and grabbing her hands in his, “just tell me, for once, just say what’s on your mind.”

she raised her head and met his gaze, and for a second, she looked as if she were going to say something, but then she lowered her head once more.

he felt frustration rising inside of him; if she would just fucking say something, if she would just be honest instead of letting him think these paranoid fucking thoughts, it would be okay. “good god, could you just fucking say something?” he felt his voice growing louder and he stepped back from her, running his fingers through his hair. she flinched, but the silence continued. “oh my fuck, you just, you can’t blame me for being worried, okay? you can’t fucking blame me for that when you don’t even talk to me, i’m sitting here thinking that you don’t even want to be with me, and if that’s the case, then just say it, because that’ll hurt a whole lot less than this… this shit, whatever this is,” he paused to take a breath, and he was crying, because the last thing he wanted to do was to leave, but he didn’t know what else there was to do. and when he opened his mouth to speak again, she stood up, abruptly, and she was crying too, and finally–finally–she spoke.

“i’m in love with you.” it was so quiet, and it stunned him, so much that he didn’t process it.


“i’m in love with you, okay?” her voice was shaking, growing stronger, and she rubbed at her eyes with a hand. “christ.”

“why didn’t you tell me?” was all he could manage to say.

“because, because i’m scared. i’m–i’m fucking scared because people always leave, that’s what people do, we leave each other, and we leave destruction in our wake because we’re all selfish and even if we love somebody it’s all selfish and it’s still all about us, but i don’t care about that because i’m so fucking in love with you and i know i have a problem with not saying what’s on my mind but trust me, if i didn’t want you here i would just leave like the others left me or left you, but i won’t, because i love you, and that’s what was on my mind for the last two weeks–”

and suddenly he was kissing her, and she kissed him back, and they were both crying and laughing and he held her as close as he could because god, did he love her too.

—  “an excerpt from a book i’ll never write #5” -c.h. // Instagram: (via @poeticaffinity)

i can just imagine waking up next to calum with his right arm wrapped loosely around your waist as he spoons you, soft snores coming out of his slightly open mouth as you turn over to face him and gently caress the ink on his skin. he’d stir in his sleep as you changed position but still remain passed out and you’d chuckled at how hard of a sleeper he was. but you’d also smile because he looked so peaceful and beautiful in this state compared to the hard look he usually wore whenever he went out in public and you’d remember how lucky you were to be one of the few people to ever see calum in this state. and you’d scoot closer to him and press a soft kiss on his nose which would somehow wake him up causing him to groan and say “good morning princess” in his raspy morning voice and oh my god what i would do to wake up next to him fml fml fml


Life is good bc Wonwoo and his voice exist, thanks God.


My heart can’t in any shape or form right now.

And his voice. Goodness, it’s been so long.

Thursday’s going to be prodigiously lit.


Happy 25th birthday, Nacchan! (06.26) (~ ̄▽ ̄)~

Kaneki isn’t there because I haven’t watched Tokyo Ghoul… Yet. 

I have discovered him by watching Starmyu and then he never ceased to surprise me. He has a good voice range and his screams… Oh my godness. He’s only one year older than me and he’s done so many things… I’m so proud of him… He’s so talented… ヾ(○・ω・)ノ☆