he acknowledged my existance

from the Battlefront 2 trailer… is this one of the Sentinels described in Empire’s End??? They had red robes and holographic projections of Palpatine’s face on them and Palpatine’s voice is speaking during this part of the trailer…


Jughead Jones x reader

In which Jughead is having a bad day.

Mainly fluff because I’m WEAK

We all met at our usual place for lunch. Kevin and Archie were having some kind of heated discussion over the table, while Veronica and Betty were smiling at each other, and talking quietly. Just date already. I watched as Jughead walked over to our table, plonking himself and his food down opposite me.

“Hey!” I beamed at him. He didn’t smile back, just nodded his head in acknowledgment of my existence, and I tried not to feel offended as he looked down to his meal and started eating without a second glance at me. The others greeted him, but he gave them equally as despondent responses.

“How has your day been? What lesson did you just have?” I asked him, eager to talk to him. He rolled his eyes.


His one word answer was a little depleting, and I frowned.

“Okay, I’m gonna pretend I didn’t see that eye roll, Jones.” I said, raising my eyebrows at him. “What’s up?”

He ignored me, continuing to eat, and I began to grow frustrated.

“Jug, seriously, what is wrong with you?”

“Nothing, Y/N! Will you just leave me alone?” He snapped, his eyes furious as they met mine. The others turned to look at him, surprised. I was a little alarmed by his sudden outburst, but sat back as I realised what was happening. I knew Jughead well enough to know the difference between when he was actually angry with me, and when he was lashing out because he was hurt. I sighed.

“Right, come on,” I stood up, walking around to him and pulling him up with me. “We’re going for a walk.”

He sighed but didn’t say anything, letting me drag him away from his uneaten lunch. There really must’ve been something wrong if he let that happen.

I linked my arm with his as we began to walk around the grounds of the school. It was a bright day, and the sun shone vibrantly onto the grass surrounding us. I leant my head against his arm before looking up at him.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked, and he sighed.

“It’s just… my dad…” He trailed off, looking away, but I understood him perfectly.

“Right.” I nodded. “How bad is it?”

He sniffed and I leaned into him, holding onto his arm.

“Let’s just say I’d be surprised if he even recognised me right now, he’s so wasted.” He muttered, and I looked up at him again, noticing his tired eyes and clenched jaw. Rubbing his arm, I decided Jughead was in serious need of some fun.

“We are ditching last period.” I said matter-of-factly, letting go of his arm and grinning at him.

“We’re what now?” He asked, deadpan, and I giggled.

“Come onnn, it’ll be fun. No one will even notice we are gone. Let’s go, let’s go!” His mouth curved upwards at my enthusiasm, watching me jump around him excitedly.

He let me yet again pull him away, as we quickly left school and I dragged him along the road to my open-top car. I vaulted in and watched as he stood next to the vehicle, his arms crossed.

“I am not getting in until I know where we are going.” He stated. “I am legally obliged.”

I laughed.

I don’t even know where we are going yet, Jug. Come on, have a little trust!”

He raised his eyebrows sceptically, but eventually got into the car, shaking his head as I cheered. We began driving with no direction, using the rural location of Riverdale to our advantage as we drove down endless empty country roads. I didn’t feel the chill of the wind, passing by the fields and hills in a blur of green and red and brown as the sun shone on us. Knowing he was in need of a distraction, I began rambling on about anything and everything, gesticulating wildly and prompting many concerned comments about my driving ability. Ignoring them, I continued to talk until I cut myself off, hearing one of my favourite songs come on the radio.

“Oh, yes.” I said, grinning and turning it up.

“Oh, no.” Jughead groaned. “Please don’t let this lead to an inevitably very loud and off-key performance of this song.” He pleaded, but I only grinned at him: he knew it was coming.

I began belting out the lyrics, waving my free hand around as I passionately acted out every word. The countryside flew past us as I sang at the top of my lungs and he watched me, grinning. It may have been a bit flat, but Jughead was laughing, so I would call it an overall success.

We stopped the car on a random hill. It didn’t have a particularly good view but it was peaceful, and the sky was a multitude of colours above us as the sun set. There were birds and a breeze and the radio was still playing softly. We were lying horizontally across the back seat, my back against Jughead’s chest as he played with my hair.

“Sorry for snapping at you earlier.” He mumbled, his mouth pressed to the top of my head. I smiled up at him, turning my head to see him better.

“That’s okay. I knew it was just because you were having a bad day, not because you were actually mad at me.”

He smiled tenderly down at me.

“How’d you get to know me so well, huh?” He asked. I exhaled,

“Well, I guess knowing someone for this long will do that to you.” I said, pausing before continuing. “Either that or I’m just incredibly attentive, observant, perceptive and generally great.” I teased, smirking as he laughed, tightening his grip around me.

“Well, that is true as well.” He said, eyebrows raised as he looked at me.

I leant forward, connecting our lips gently, tracing his cheek with my fingertips as his hand came to rest on my neck. I smiled as we separated and turned back around, leaning further into him, looking up at the sky. He grabbed my hand and wrapped his fingers around mine.

“You did a pretty good job of cheering me up, you know.” He said, and I frowned.

“Only pretty good?”

“Okay, very good.”

“Thank you.”

anonymous asked:



Flashing Lights (part 3) - Benedict x reader

A/N: Well this was loads of fun to write. Especially the end because damn, the cumberbutt gets me every time. A huge thanks to @duskybatfishgirl for providing me with this post that inspired me profoundly, lol. Also, this week I might be slower on updates because of a few upcoming exams, but I promise I’ll make an effort. Just be patient, you guys, because a lot of good stuff is coming up ;D

Requested by @thestrawberryblondehobbitbatch: Flashing Lights. I loved this fic. I was wondering if you could to do another one like it. But Benedict is going on the graham Norton show to promote Sherlock. And the reader is the surprise guest.

Word count: 2509
Warnings: none

Originally posted by cucumberbenny

[part 1] [part 2]

Keep reading

Break Even

A Christmassy SnowBaz fic for the Carry On Countdown


Of course, it’s not enough that the Crucible stuck me and that twat in a room together.  It’s not enough that I have to deal with his abuse every single day six months out of the year.  Of course, someone out there, whoever’s controlling the fates, has gotten it in their mind that I don’t have it bad enough.

           You know what would make this even better?  Make Simon and Baz buy each other Christmas presents!  Perfect!

           I trudge along the snowy pavement, scowling at the melting slush.  I’ve been in five shops already and I can’t find anything.  I don’t even know what I’m looking for.  What do you get for someone you despise?

           I suppose I could pull a prank or something. That’s probably what he will do. He never fails to stoop to the lowest level when it comes to me.

           But then again, he would probably kill me if I pulled something like that.  For some reason, he’s allowed to mess with me, but I’m not allowed to mess with him. Figures.

           Exhausted, I duck into a coffee shop.  The air is warm and spiced with cinnamon.  As I make my way to the front of the line, I see the display of gift cards next to the till.

           Baz drinks coffee, doesn’t he?  Of course he does.  Everyone drinks coffee.

           So I buy my peppermint mocha, load a gift card and walk out relieved.


Of course, it’s not enough that I have to pretend I hate the boy with every word I say.  It’s not enough that I have no choice but to make his life a living hell every single day six months out of the year. Now I have to display my everlasting hatred by means of a Christmas gift exchange.

           Whoever thought this was a good idea can get fucked.

           I shove my way out of a candy store emptyhanded. Every shop is bringing me closer to the point of giving up.  What kind of villain gives the hero candy for Christmas?

           Then again, what kind of villain gives the hero anything for Christmas?

           Maybe the villain who doesn’t want to be the villain.

           I shake my head to clear it, squinting up at the sign over the next window.  Antiques it says in big loopy writing.  I sigh and push through the door.

           The smell hits me first.  It’s not a bad smell necessarily, just old and musty, kind of like breathing straight dust, and I cough.  As my eyes adjust I begin to make out the piles of knick-knacks stacked up on every surface, age-old brass and silver winking at me from every corner.  Or rather, blinking.  Like someone who’s trying to wink but never quite got the hang of it.

           I don’t know where to start.  I don’t even know what I’m looking for.  What do you get for someone who despises you?

           From what I can tell, everything in here is pretty expensive, which almost causes me to turn around right then.  Expensive doesn’t fit the guidelines I’ve set for myself. The gift can’t be too sentimental or he’ll know you don’t hate him.  It can’t be too expensive or he’ll think you cared enough to spend money on him.  It can’t be candy because candy is for kids, it can’t be cologne because that’s too personal, it can’t be homemade or he’ll think you spent time and effort on him. The list goes on and on.

           A flash of metal catches my eye, and I turn to see a tiny silver object on a table by the window.  I wander over to it.

           It’s a sheath, only big enough for a dagger, and it’s patterned in bronze rosebuds.  When I pick it up, I discover that the blade is still inside, intact, and actually nicely polished.

           Of course, Snow already has a sword, but when you live with a vampire, what harm would it do to have an extra weapon handy at all times?  One that doesn’t disappear when you’re not using it?

           “How much for this?” I ask the shopkeeper.


When the last day of classes rolls around, I find Baz in our room – no surprises there – packing the last of his things for the holidays.  I clear my throat as I enter.  He turns, but only for a second, and he doesn’t make any other move to acknowledge my existence.  Again, no surprises there.

           “Are you leaving soon?” I ask, trying to at least begin the conversation in a civil manner.

           “Yes, Snow,” he sighs, “as you’ll be thrilled to know.”

           I roll my eyes.  It doesn’t matter what I do.  This is just him.

           I drop my bag on my bed and rummage through it, searching for the tiny gift.  When I find it, I toss in onto his bed.  “Here.”

           He looks at it, his brow furrowed.  “What’s this?”

           “Christmas gift exchange,” I say, “you might have forgotten.”

           He opens the pathetic little square of wrapping paper I’ve taped around the gift card, and mutters something incoherent.  “What was that?” I ask.

           “I said, this is my favourite coffee shop.”

           “Oh,” I reply, not sure what else to say.  “Well, good then.  Happy Christmas, I guess.”

           He slips the card into his pocket and doesn’t move.  I figure he’s completely forgotten about the gift exchange, or he deliberately didn’t get me anything, and decide not to press the subject.  I flop down on my bed and pull out a magic book.  No use in packing for me, I’m not going anywhere. Not like Baz.  Not everyone gets to celebrate with a family.  And certainly not everyone gets to celebrate in a fucking mansion.

           A small wrapped package appears in my periphery. I look up.  Baz is madly arranging clothes in his luggage, trying to look like he didn’t put the thing on my bed.  I’m surprised, I’ll admit.  I guess he didn’t forget.

           “What’s this?” I ask.  I don’t know why I ask it, as the answer is fairly obvious.

           “Just open it,” he says, not looking at me.

           Carefully I pull the tape off of the paper, not wanting to trigger anything in case this is still some sort of prank.  I wouldn’t put anything past him, the boy who literally pushed me down the stairs and tried to feed me to the Chimera.  But nothing ticks, and nothing blows up in my hands.  Slowly I pull the paper back from the object, holding it far away from my face, just to be safe.

           I am not expecting a dagger.

           Specifically, I am not expecting a dagger with a matching sheath that clips onto a belt, adorned with a rosebud pattern of bronze. I am not expecting what appears to be a polished silver blade with a soft leather hilt that fits in my hand like it was molded to the shape of my grip.

           My mouth is hanging open in awe.  I can’t seem to form words.

           I look back up at him.  He’s stopped rearranging his luggage and is watching me, and he looks almost nervous.

           “How much did you spend on this?” I breathe.

           He shakes his head.  “It was just from a pawn shop,” he mutters.

           “Damn, Baz,” I chuckle, “way to make me look like a shit gift-giver.”

           His eyes harden.  “I’ll take it back then,” he growls, moving to take it from my hands.

           “No!”  I clutch the knife to my chest.  He stops, looking surprised, like he hadn’t actually expected me to like it.  How he could think that beats me.  “I love it,” I say, not even realizing that I’ve admitted to something.

           His brow softens a bit.  “I just thought it might be easier than always having to summon your sword,” he shrugs.

           “It’s perfect,” I breathe, staring at the roses on the sheath, spellbound by the thing.

           Suddenly I’m hit by a wave of guilt.  I spent a handful on a lame gift card, when Baz went and actually found me something that would mean something.  I don’t stop to think about why he would want it to mean something, I only know that it leaves the scales completely unbalanced.

           I need to repay him somehow.

           I stand, and suddenly we’re nearly face-to-face. If our room wasn’t so damn tight we wouldn’t be this close together, but for once the proximity doesn’t bother me. It clearly affects him though, because he shies away as soon as I stand.  He won’t even make eye-contact with me.

           “I can’t accept this,” I tell him, “not without paying you back somehow.”

           “What part of the term ‘gift exchange’ do you not understand, Snow?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at me.  “It’s a gift.  Let’s just wish each other a Happy Christmas and be done with it.”

           “No, that’s not how we work,” I insist.  “I torment you, you torment me, and somehow we always break even.  So now we have to break even on this.”

           “I’m not telling you how much I spent on that,” he shakes his head.

           “Why not?”  My heart drops for a second.  “Was it terribly expensive?”

           “No, it’s just not what you do.  You don’t tell someone what you spent on them, it just makes them feel guilty.”

           “And since when have you ever passed up an opportunity to make me feel guilty?” I challenge.  He doesn’t answer, just stares at something that isn’t my eyes. I can’t quite tell what he’s looking at. Maybe the wall behind me, maybe my shoulder, maybe nothing in particular.

           “Alright,” I concede, “no money, then.  But there must be something I can do.”

           And – Merlin – his cheeks turn pink.

           And now I’m very aware of how close we are.

           And of how I can pinpoint his gaze now.

           He’s looking at my face, but not my eyes.  My mouth.


           I don’t think.  I just lean in and kiss him.


Simon’s mouth, no matter how many times I’ve thought he might kiss me, is a complete shock.  I’ve stared at his lips plenty, but apparently I wasn’t prepared to feel them against mine.

           And now here he is, pressing a gentle kiss to my cold mouth like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

           Before I can even close my eyes, he pulls back.

           I don’t speak.  I don’t trust myself to.

           “Is that alright?” he whispers.

           “Yeah.”  Crowley, I’m shaking.

           “Are we even then?”

           “Um,” I swallow nervously, “almost.”

           “Oh?” He smiles, and my heart stops entirely.  “What else do you want?”

           I lean in by just a fraction, hoping he’ll take the hint.

           He does.

           And then his mouth is flush against mine, not even bothering to be shy.  

Originally posted by wwwechampionship

Roman Reigns Blurb request - The Introduction

Seth and I had been friends for years. He had always talked about Roman but somehow, for as much as we both hung out with our mutual friend, we always seemed to miss each other when we were in the same town or city. So, I was nothing short of shocked when I stepped through the doorway of Seth’s Tampa home and found the man himself sprawled out on the sectional. I swear he took up half of it.

“Is this the infamous Cassie I hear so much about but never see?” His deep voice matched his size and boomed across the room as he stood up with a huge grin on his face.

“One and the same,” Seth grinned back at him.

He strode over to where I was standing in a few short steps and put his hand out, “Hey, I’m Roman, pleasure to finally meet ya.”

I took his hand in mine and looked up at the man towering over me. “Cassandra but everyone calls me Cassie.” I couldn’t take my eyes off of him, “Jesus, how fucking tall are you?”

“Around 6’3”,” he laughed.

His voice was mesmerizing. “I have no idea why I just said that,” my face flushed as I spoke, “clearly you’re aware of your height.”

“When your 6’3” everyone is aware of your height,” his grey eyes held mine.

Keep reading

Someday you’ll understand.

A/N: This one will probably be a smack in the feels. The ages of Sam, Dean, & the Reader will change throughout the story. The reader is the youngest child of Mary & John. Sam doesn’t act 100% like I think Sam would actually act if he had a little sister, I think he would have totally loved it but ya know, for the story’s purpose this is how it’s gotta be. I also didn’t edit like I was gonna so if you read this before I get to edit it…my bad 😂

Dean x Sister!Reader

Sam x Sister!Reader

Originally posted by sam-and-dean-winchesters

Dean happily sat holding you in his arms. You were three days old and he couldn’t be happier to have a little sister, Sam on the other hand was disappointed that you were not a boy. He so badly wanted a little brother so that he could be just like Dean. His parents said that he’d love to have a little sister, but he had doubts

“How come you like her so much?” Four year old Sam asked Dean, “She doesn’t even do anything!”

“Neither did you when you were a baby.” Dean defended you, “Besides, you aren’t even giving her a chance. Being a big brother is all about loving your little brother or sister even if they’re being annoying, just like you are right now.”

“I am not annoying.” Sam persisted. “Y/N is.”

As if on cue you started to cry and wiggle around in Dean’s arms.

“See!” Sam exclaimed, “So annoying. I don’t wanna be an older sibling if it’s to her.”

Dean let out a sigh and rolled his eyes while re-positioning you in his arms, sometimes his brother drove him crazy. You calmed down and made a happy noise at Dean which made him smile.

“Someday you’ll understand Sammy.”

Keep reading

  • what she says: im fine
  • what she means: was the song help from pink season a genuine cry for help or is it satire because im concerned for the well-being of a comedian I've never met or spoken to he doesn't even acknowledge my existence but it's as if he's pulling some marina joyce shit man like is he okay? what scares me more is the fact it sounds like a teen movie song and papa hates teens like....dang

One time I had a guy come to the check out who was talking on his phone. This is something I usually find really rude but it was obvious that he was talking to his boss or someone important, and unlike a lot of people who talk on the phone when they’re paying he actually acknowledged my existence and said please/thank you/have a nice day and listened to what I was saying and said sorry about ten times. But this old lady behind me him then decided to though a fit literally yelling about how rude he was being and how horrible this generation was. By the time I rang up her purchase and she complained about how the youth of today had no respect for others she took a good look at my hair (a line bob with side cut, curled to perfection and slaying it that day even if I do say so myself thank you very much) and said “well you’re a bit dykey looking aren’t you?”. I asked her a lot more politely than she deserved that I had other customers to see to and I needed her to step aside from the counter.

okay so this is kind of a shitty video and I’m sorry, but I figured if anybody would appreciate it, it would be the Tumblr fandom. my depression has been BAD lately, and sure, the thought crossed my mind that at the concert I had been waiting MONTHS for, Brendon might walk by me. I had seen the videos, seen other people getting to hug him. And sure enough, Brendon Urie walks by me, does a double take, grabs my hand and says into the microphone, “I like your jacket,” and my heart stopped. Every bad emotion I had been feeling for the last few weeks was gone. He acknowledged my existence and took the time to compliment my favorite jacket. It meant so so much to me and I haven’t come down from that high yet. If you took the time to read this, thank you; we picked a good band to love.

Rich Youth | Chapter 1

chapters: 12 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

featuring: reader + most of NCT will make an appearance at one point (if you guys like this enough for me to continue)

warnings: slight smut, language

word count: 2.8K

“Stop being so dramatic; I’ll be joining you in two weeks. My new step-bitch wants to take me shopping in Dubai so we can ‘bond’ but I know it’s just a massive excuse to convince my dad to give her his credit card so she can fulfil her gold-digging fantasies”, Hayi’s voice echoed through the loudspeaker of my phone as I finished packing my bags. I walked over to my bed, falling back onto it and turning my head so that I was facing the phone I had laid on my pillow.

“I’m sorry, Hayi. If it makes you feel any better, while you’re splashing the cash in Dubai, I’ll be suffering a slow and painful death at the country club. God knows why my dad and Jessica insist on spending all summer there when there are so many other places to visit and so many other things to do that don’t involve making forced conversation with a bunch of rich, sexist men, their trophy wives and their spoilt children!” I sulked. I lifted my head as I heard Hayi giggling on the other line.

“Did you just describe your own family, Y/N?” she laughed. As the realisation hit me, I couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle.

Keep reading

“Pure projection” my nigga? You mean the “pure projection” substantiated by your repeated abuse of a mentally ill  barely legal teenager that you admitted to enjoy manipulating because it amused you sexually? The story you couldn’t find a narrative for, the one where you first told me was you just trying to get her to realize how toxic the relationship was, that you then switched up and said “oh it was all part of some bdsm roleplay?” The pure projection of you saying you going after young girls because you go after anyone that likes you?

The “pure projection” of you trying to use my own abuse to gaslight me because I didn’t want to have anything to do with you after that?

The “pure projection” of you throwing a tantrum because I found you going after much younger girls suspect?

The “pure projection” of you claiming that you were trying to take full responsibility for your actions despite continuously scapegoating and blaming the girl you enjoyed manipulating and painting her as some evil barely legal vixen?

The “pure projection” of you way back being desperate for a nude from Tima and when, not getting any, throwing an absurd temper tantrum and painting her as evil for getting Heleena away from your disgusting ass with no further explanation except that she’s a drama starting bitch?

What about the “pure projection” of people exposing your abuse and your only fall back being Chay’s supposed obssession with your dick?

What about the “pure projection” of you literally cussing out Infi-someone supposedly that was your friend–for absolutely no reason over Star Wars for God’s sake, comparing her to a whiny bitch with no lube..

Only for you to, months later start desperately thirsting after her nudeblog, to the point where you sending in ugly ass cock pics for her to rate, and then sending her all kinds of messages begging to buy her dildos and monokinis.

What about the “pure projection” of, just after that, you randomly insulting someone else who was supposed to be your friend and who had done absolutely nothing to you at that point and calling her easy directly after you sent in dick pics?

What about the “pure projection” regarding the fact that all these incidents aren’t even the full extent of your sexual obsession that other women that used to be cool with you have come to me personally after all this was revealed and described the same pattern of behavior you had with them and that you have a severe preocuppation with sex that’s directly connected with your self esteem and ego and that you use a fun, safe practice like BDSM to mentally abuse other people?

What about the “pure projection” of you calling women gold digging whores essentially and yet, throughout multiple conversations when we were in a “LDR:”  that you were the one insisting on purchasing me things despite me multiple times saying that more than anything I wanted you to know that I cared about you and just wanted you to get better with your alchoholism but you instead insisted that I wasn’t a sex worker and that you liked buying me things(never mind that at the same time you were basically buying shit for anyone who would show you some tits–ego I guess). On top of that, we’re not even going to get into the fact that a couple months ago when I was going through financial disarray and hadn’t spoken to you or even attempted to contact you in any way shape or form and in fact, had blocked you after you were trying to defend James Deen when his rape allegations came out, how you accused me of trying to soak you for money even though months prior to this allegation, you very desperately asked me if I needed money if I said I never wanted to talk to you ever again and I firmly replied that I didn’t give a fuck about your money and just wanted to know if my friend was a liar and abuser or not.

You’re an abusive, sex obsessed, narcissistic, insecure cockroach who’s had every single relationship fail because no one wants to deal with you and your random temper tantrums, your preoccupation with sex, your pathetic self victimization, and your thinly veiled hatred of women. The fact that I pitied and put up with you for so long, the fact that I actually had faith in you and trusted you only for you, the fact that I put time and effort into wanting you to be a better person despite your tantrums on me (which, despite the fact that you insist I never complained about, I did multiple times only for you to stop talking to me and then come crawling for nudes days later as if nothing had happened) only for you to turn out to be a liar who painted his victims to be deranged abusers and  to continuously lie and attack people is embarrassing. You’re a hurt person who grew up to hurt other people and no matter how much other people have done for you, only for you to burn them and play the victim when things don’t go your way. Explain how the common denominator in all of your flopped friendships and relationships is you and yet somehow you still don’t get it.

Also I find it hilarious that someone who you were allegedly planning on moving you in with you and starting a life with(even though apparently that’s not even something exclusive to me lol) and who you claimed was your “significant other” is now a “thirst follow” , never mind all the times you desperately tried to reconnect with me afterwards.

Bitch, shut up.

Lmao so I had this in my drafts the first time I seen this trash ass nigga/Daniel novak/@sosungalittleclodofclay telling lies and delusions about three or four months ago and I let it go because who the fuck cares but this abnormal alcoholic disturbed nigga had the AUDACITY to text me five months later trying to call me bitter when I clearly haven’t deigned to even acknowledge he existed in months while he still has my number in his phone somehow after I blocked his ass around October or November of last year. I had in fact forgotten his number when I got a new phone in March so he was still able to send me these bitter nigga texts

What she says: I’m fine

What she means: Today I cried over twenty one pilots, not once but twice. Tyler Joseph means so much to me because he doesn’t know I even exist but yet he still acknowledges my feelings and hurt, he cares about a lot of people. He cares about us, dude. Don’t even get me started on Josh Dun, omg. Josh Dun, the drummah man, spooky Jim, jishwa. 10/10 that’s a lot of tallent for one dude. Oh my God. Everything they do fucks me up and I’m in tears in 2 seconds. One time I thought about holding Tyler’s hand and I was in tears a second later. Tyler and Josh mean so mu-

Missing - Kim Hanbin Angst

Request: hanbin angst scnenario, you get jealous over lee hi and you two get into fight, he said hurtful things to you and you want break up but he regret it (happy end) please?

Ooh, I get jealous over Lee Hi too damnNN she’s so good ok anyway I hope you like it! (-:

Group Member: Kim Hanbin x You (in replacement of ‘you’, I’ll use the name ‘Shay’)

Genre: Angst/Fluff/Drama/Romance

Song Inspiration: Flightless Bird, American Mouth by Iron & Wine


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Sober - Jelena One Shot

Sober (Jelena One Shot)

Selena’s POV

“Goddammit Justin! Not again!” I yelled in exasperation when I realized he was not only drunk but high as well.

“Selena! Come hang with me!” He grinned lopsidedly, pulling me onto his lap as he continued talking to the girl next to him.

I sighed, tired of his bullshit.

This was a constant routine and I was so done with it.

It seemed like the only time Justin acknowledged my existence was when he was faded out of his mind and around people.

“Come on.” I ordered, standing up and pulling him with me. “It’s time to leave.”

It was after three and the club would be closing soon anyways.

“BYEEE!” He screamed, waving to his so called friends as he leaned heavily on me.

I managed to drag him home and to bed. I was pissed and fed up with him and his bad habits so instead of changing him into comfortable clothes like I usually do, I left him on top of the blankets and left.





Justin’s POV

I groaned as I opened my eyes because of a bright light.

What the fuck?

Why didn’t Selena close it before she came to bed like she usually does?

With a grunt, I dragged myself off the bed and tried to make my way to the kitchen for some advil.

I frowned as I realized I was still in last night’s clothes.

Selena usually undressed me before bed when I was drunk.

Most times, I would return the favor as well and we’d both be naked.

But obviously that didn’t happen.

Where was she anyways?

I dug around the cupboards until I found what I was looking for and swallowed the pills with a glass of water.

I walked around the house as they immediately began taking effect and the ache in my head dulled considerably.

“Selena?” I called. “Where are you?”

Where could she possibly be? I looked everywhere.

I returned to our bedroom, my eyes landing on a piece of paper I hadn’t seen before.

My eyebrows drew together as I carefully picked it up, taking note of the tear stains on the paper, tainted with makeup.


I’m sorry. I don’t know when you’ll see this and if you’ll be sober when you do but I hope you are. Maybe then it’ll hurt less since you only seem to care about me when you’re drunk. I’ve decided to leave. I’m sorry but I can’t do this anymore. We had a good few years together but it’s not the same anymore. You aren’t the same and I can’t stay with you. It’s only hurting me more and more. I still love you and a part of me always will but this is for the best.

Love, Selena.”

I blinked.

I re-read the paper.

I blinked again.

She left me?

She couldn’t.

She wouldn’t.

But as I read the paper for the third time it became clear to me that she did.

She has left.

Just like that.

She was gone.

I dropped the note onto the floor, running to the walk in closet.

Her side was empty.

She really had left me.

I sank to the floor as my brain shut down.

She was gone?

Just like that?

Not even a goodbye?

She just slipped out the night while I was asleep?

Did she really think it would be that easy?

That I would let her go?

I stood back up as my heart began to beat rapidly, adrenaline flowing through my veins.

I quickly jumped into the shower, deciding I would have a better chance of bringing her back if I didn’t reek of alcohol.

Once I had tidied myself up properly, I grabbed my car keys.

I drove to Theresa’s house knowing that was where she would have gone, only stopping to buy her flowers.

I parked my car in Theresa’s driveway and knocked urgently on the door because the doorbell was ringing too slowly.

“I’ve got it!” I heard her voice call out before the door opened.

Her lips pressed into a thin line when she realized it was me.

“Justin…” She leaned against the door frame and crossed her arms across her chest. “What are you doing here?”

“I..I got your note. Please don’t leave me Selena. I’m so sorry. I’ll be better I swear. Just don’t go."I begged.

"It’s too late Justin.” She informed me coldly. “I’ve made up my mind. I’m not getting back together with you ever again.”

“Selena please..”

“No. We’re done for good. Nothing you say is going to change my mind. I’m sorry.”


“Goodbye Justin.”

And she slammed the door in my face, not even sparing a second glance my way.

With a heavy sigh, I tossed the flowers to the side, getting back into my car.

I ran my hand over my face, feeling the moisture of my tears beneath my fingers.

How could I have not seen it?

How could I have not realised I was losing her until it was too late?

How could I have let things get this bad?





Selena’s POV

A scream.

That’s what I heard as I was reading a book.

Justin was screaming and I didn’t know why.

I quickly dropped the book onto the coffee table and made my way into the bedroom.

He was tossing and turning, screams and whimpers escaping him as tears fell from his closed eyes.

What was happening?

“Justin! Justin wake up!” I gently shook his shoulders and his eyes flew open with a gasp.

“Selena?” He questioned, his voice shaky as his lips quivered.

“I’m here baby. It’s okay.” I reassured, pulling him in for a hug.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please don’t leave me. I’ll be better I promise. I-I’ll stop drinking. And I’ll make sure to show you how much I love you all the time. I swear. Just please don’t go. I need you.”

His words were frantic.

“Hey, hey, hey. Calm down. It’s okay. I’m here Justin. I’m here. I’m not leaving you. I’m not.”


“I promise baby. Will you really do what you said?” I asked hopefully, wanting nothing more than the boy I fell in love with.

“Yes. I swear. I’ll be good. I don’t want to lose you.”

I smiled, leaning in to kiss him. “Thank you.”

“Just don’t go yeah?”

“I won’t sweetheart.”

“I do love you, you know. I’m sorry I don’t show it enough when I’m sober. I’ll try to. I promise.”

“I love you too Jay. So so much.”






This is the best I can come up with so…

My Father, My Monster

by reddit user Elias_Witherow

This story literally made me cry. Trigger warning: child abuse

I had a hard childhood. I had a really hard childhood. Each day felt like survival. Thinking back, I’m surprised I’m alive. There are some things no one should have to go through. There are some things that are better left in the past.

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anonymous asked:

you know what i find amazing? our school has an annual concert that multiple groups play in, in which last year's concert i saw the most beautiful guy i had ever laid eyes on in a different group. i remember thinking to myself that he was nice to look at but he'd probably never even acknowledge my existance, so i shouldnt even bother. this year, he was leaning on my shoulder as we watched the other groups. never say you can't ❤.


diminutive-kita submitted:

I want to share a story with people with mental disorders that have rejection issues. My name is Kita and I go to college studying Biomedical Engineering.

I had a boyfriend at the end of the fall quarter. Things seemed to be going fine until he said some mean things such as that he sometimes gets annoyed when I come to him when I’m having a panic attack. He barely made any time for me because he was “busy with schoolwork” and then asked to spend even less time with me because he wanted to meet new people to be friends with. As a result, I felt like I was a bad girlfriend for having these mental disorders. He then broke up with me in a very insensitive way. I felt upset and cried and then felt like I was all alone. The depression and anxiety getting worst. He didn’t bother talking to me and didn’t even acknowledge my existence when we were in the same club together so it made me have panic attacks whenever I was around him But then it dawned on me: I have to be my own investment.

So now have a planner with everything I need to get done. I’m going to the psychiatrist and therapist regularly. I’m eating healthier and exercising. I’m setting small goals and reaching them. Yes, there are days in which it seems as though I may not pass my class or even get out of bed but I always remember that I turned my anger towards him into my inspiration to do better. Now I wish to become the project manager of this club and work my way up into becoming president.

There are many days I’m terrified of getting out of bed but I remember what Eleanor Roosevelt said:“You gain strength, courage and confidence in every experience you really stop to look fear in the face. You must do the thing you think you cannot do.“