i ran out of oxygen

4 Months

The faces of familiar strangers blur past me along the sidewalk. The walk back to my apartment building seems to grow longer and longer everyday. It certainly doesn’t help that my final class everyday is a philosophy lecture. However, it does hold merit in distracting me, if only for a little while, from the fact that Luke won’t be waiting for me at my door.

The morning of his departure, my heart woke with cracks already forming. My eyes fluttered open very early to see Luke next to me, drooling on the sheets. I just laid there watching his peaceful face grow brighter as the sun rose through my cheap drapes.
“Why are you staring at me?” He mumbled sleepily, startling me a bit.
I pulled my brain out of its trance and ran my fingers through his tangled curls, “You’re just so cute,” I said.
He scooched himself across the mattress until his broad shoulders engulfed me in a tight embrace. Calloused fingers stoking my arm, he knocked his pixie nose back and forth against mine, “My pretty girl” he mused.

I sat up against the wall, Luke placed himself cross legged in front of me. The fingers of my left hand tangled into his while the other drew unorganized patterns into his forearm.
“It’s only 4 months,” he intended those four words to be reassuring but they hitched slightly in his throat.
“4 months,” I repeated softly, refusing to meet his gaze.
I felt knuckles meet my chin and my head involuntarily tilted upward. The instant I focused on Luke’s bright cerulean irises my ducts burned with salty tears.
“You’ll wait for me right?” Luke whispered
His thumb stroked across my cheek to catch a single overflowing tear as I nodded slowly, unable to form words. His expression was soft, yet strong. I could tell he was hardening his emotions for me. He kissed my forehead before getting up to shower and gather the suitcases he had brought with him a couple nights before.

Luke unzipped his huge black duffle bag and chucked something at my head. I unfurled the fleece to see that it was the particular pullover I always stole from him.
A huge, giddy smile wrinkled my face, “Really?” I questioned
He just shook his head at me as I shrugged it on and took a long drag of his scent.

I held onto Luke’s arm with both hands as we walked with the other three boys to their security checkpoint. Ashton and Michael each gave me a hug while Calum and I exchanged our secret handshake before leaving Luke to say goodbye.

He ran both sets of fingertips around the perimeter of my face, from hairline to chin. I threw my arms around his waist, burrowing myself in his chest. His lips pressed firmly into the top of my head. I realized when I pulled back that it was my turn to be strong. Luke’s eyes were drooped, flickering around my face as if he were trying to memorize me.
“It’s gonna be okay bub,” I said.
“I already miss you,” he countered.
I kissed along his bearded jawline eventually meeting his lips. His tongue slipped past my teeth and I heard someone whistle from the other side of security. The smile that formed against my mouth swelled my heart almost as much as the squeaky giggle that flitted from Luke.
“Go on,” I flicked my head towards the gates, “go be a rockstar.”
His lips found mine once more, then between my eyebrows, and finally the tip of my nose.
I stood frozen in that same spot as Luke removed his jacket and shoes and passed through the metal detector. He joined the other three who collectively patted him on the back. Luke turned over his shoulder to blow me a final kiss. I returned to gesture and watched him disappear into the vast sea of travelers dragging suitcases.

I meandered alone back to my car. The booming sound of the door closing echoed through the parking garage much longer than seemed possible. My hands curled around the steering wheel. In the six months that I’d been dating Luke we’ve never spent more than 48 hours apart. While everything already felt so empty I knew my strength could carry me for a couple of days. What happens after that?

I dropped my bookbag behind the arm chair as I strode through the door of my apartment. I made a bee line for my nightstand where I had forgotten my phone that morning. A fact I had became acutely aware of when I sat down in my first class then was unable to focus for the rest of the day. I clicked it awake to see three texts and a voicemail. My mom had sent her usual good morning message alongside two texts from my best friend about her coming over later; she was concerned about my impending hermit status. I stared at the final notification for a good two minutes. “1 new voicemail from Luke Hemmings”, it read. I pressed my hand to my chest as I selected play.

“Hi pretty girl,” I blinked back tears over a small grin, “I guess you’re in class or your phone’s dead cause you NEVER hook it up!” Hearing his little laugh after so long made me realize just how much I adored it. “Listen, I know it’s been a few days since I called and I’m so sorry. We have a day off today so when you get this, please call me. I don’t care about the time difference I just need to hear your voice. I love you, baby.”

I knew that the band was scheduled to be in Spain this week, which garnered a seven hour time difference. According to the clock it was nearing 3AM where the boys were. An unavoidable pang of guilt hit my chest as I dialed Luke’s number.
The line buzzed a few times before a burst of dead air cut in.
“Hello?” A groggy, disoriented Luke answered.
“Hey it’s me,” I said.
He let out a relieved sigh as if he had just been given the final dose of a life saving medication.
“I love you I love you I love you,” Luke repeated.
“I love you too, bub.”
I heard him fall back onto the pillows, “What have you been doing?” he asked.
“Oh nothing,” I said, “the usual…”
“Well tell me about it!” He urged
“It’s boring compared to your life right now…”
“I don’t care. Just talk to me.”
I proceeded to tell him every detail of the past four weeks; including the new puppy on the first floor that always poops on the front stoop, and that I had recently aced my creative writing final with the poem he helped me write. Every once in a while Luke would offer a question or comment but mostly he just listened, breathing in my words like oxygen. After a while I ran out of menial tales to tell him. I sat, curled up on the couch, phone fused to my ear. The silence shattered under Luke’s words, “What are you thinking about?”
“I wanna come see you.”
“You have school.”
“I don’t care,” I retorted firmly.
“I don’t want you to miss class for me. I can’t…,”
I cut in, “Luke, please”
He took a deep, pondering breath. Finally he said, “We’ll be in London in three days. You can come then.”

The passport Luke made me get months earlier received its first stamp when I arrived at the customs desk.
“Welcome to London,” the man said.
I thanked him and merged back into the crowd. I glanced at all of the signs trying to remember where Luke said he would be. I turned to examine the map of the airport on the wall, squinting at the microscopic print, ‘Where the fuck am I!?’ I thought. A loud melodic whistle sounded from the other side of the hall. I turned on my heel and there he was; towering over me in a leather jacket, hands burrowed in the front pockets of his tight jeans, sparkling eyes peeking out from under his full eyebrows. It took all of my will power not to full on scream as I leapt into Luke’s arms. In that embrace, every piece of me that had chipped away over our time apart was squeezed back into place and I was whole once more. I dropped down to my feet and moved my arms around Luke’s waist, not willing to let go of him just yet.

“Nice outfit,” he said with a smile in his voice. I looked down at my scuffed high tops, disheveled jeans, and Luke’s sweatshirt.
“It doesn’t smell like you anymore…” I whined into his chest.
He situated my head under his chin, “I guess we’ll just have to trade it back and forth then.”
“Deal,” I replied.
I pressed myself closer against Luke’s body. I felt like if I let him go he may just disappear into thin air.
“Hey,” Luke whispered, “Can I kiss you now?”
“Well since you asked so nicely.”

Cas X Reader

Request: i was wondering, if it’s not a problem, can you make something fluffy with cas? like the reader is ill (you know, cold, temperature…) and cas is taking care of her? like REALLY FLUFFY

Request: First of all… I LOVE YOUR WRITING! Secondly, Could you write a Cas X reader where the reader is a cute kind of dorky girl who is like everyone’s little sister and Sam and Dean are really overprotective of her? I would probably squeal until I ran out of oxygen:)

Request: Heya! Um can u do one where the reader’s got a really good hair and it just smells so good, she stars dating one of em *u can decide either sam dean or cas :)* and he just cant take his hands off it touching and nuzzling it! Thank you so much and keep up the good work.

Request: Could u please do a oneshot where cas like to smell the reader’s hair and one time he’s upset n sad so he asks her if he could nuzzle her hair n her neck cuz he finds it relaxing … Lol its kinda creepy but I really liked the idea & thanks a lot u r the best!

Request: hi im so glad this is open again!! can u write a cas x reader one where it’s just all fluffy and romantic like theyre in the bunker alone and they slow dance and stuff kinda based on the song adore you by miley cyrus ? thank u so much <3

Keep reading

I can’t breathe today I can’t function.
The walls of everything are closing around me , the place I live is too small , I feel as if I’m trapped in a box and have ran out of oxygen as I can’t catch my breath. I have too many elephants on my chest.
I’m curled up in a ball behind my steering wheel at the beach and I can’t bring myself to leave the car.
Too many memories and I’m just not safe and so alone.
I’m scared I’m really scared, I just want H to hold me tight and tell me I can get through this.
I want to scream , I feel so small and scared but my bodies to big and everything is closing around me.

You Had Me At Loki: Chapter 37

TITLE: You Had Me At Loki: Chapter 37


AUTHOR: winterheart17


GENRE: Drama, Erotica, Romance

FIC SUMMARY: Based on my one shot, Surrender.  Arwynn is half Midgardian and Asgardian and has loved Loki since she was 9.  When she finally becomes his chambermaid, they become lovers but will Arwynn ever get her happy ending with this arrogant, demanding and jealous God?


Author’s note: Okay! So here we have 37! I’ve finally figured out the chapters and I am pleased to say that definitely for now, I have till Chapter 39 to write.  This is because I don’t want to end things on such a rushed and abrupt note and I figured out how to make things flow better, so yayy! <3 Sorry if nothing particularly much happens but it’s necessary for build up and for bridging characters and storylines together! Anyhow, thank you all for reading and it would be really lovely to get any feedback :3 :) *hugs*


‘Prince Loki has sustained grave injuries.’

I stood there, unmoving as every molecule of my body seemed to crystallize, hardening, rendering me incapable of movement as my feet seemed to stay rooted to the spot.  And for the briefest moment in time, as my heart stopped, it was as if time stood still.  I could not hear the beating o my heart, I could not hear a whisper of a sound nor register a hint of movement.  I could not do anything, I could not kneel, I could not cover my ears with my hands, I could not double over to block those words.

Keep reading


Chapters 1 - 13

+ + + + + + + + +

The sweet aroma of syrup wafts through the room, penetrating my heavy woven blanket, currently pulled over my head. If it were up to me, I would not be vacating my bed this morning. The stress of last night’s fallen barricade and my narrow escape to the car was still weighing heavily on my mind.  I snuggle further into the downy pillow, as the blanket rubs against my face, tickling my cheek.  The tent I’d created having sunk in, creating a waiting game to see how long before the oxygen ran out and I was forced to emerge from my warm cocoon.

I feel the mattress momentarily sink down, presumably from the weight of Josh, as he climbs back into bed.  He peeks underneath the blanket, only half his face visible to me.

Keep reading

BWAT Recap Part 3 - After the Show

You can catch the first 2 part of the recap here: http://trocoloca.tumblr.com/post/94063287477/bwat-recap-part-2

Now for the REALLY good stuff!!!!! 

So the show ended at about 9:30pm.  My niece and I sit in our seats for a while just relaxing.  I am trying to become more coherent and less like a babbling idiot.   We then stand up and the entire theater is empty except for about 7 people.   WTF?   How did this theater empty so fast?  Where is everyone?   To the left of us is the Meet and Greet entrance.  There are (no lie) 4 people waiting to go in.  FOUR.   And the lady standing next to us made five.  FIVE PEOPLE FOR THE MEET AND GREET!   Are you kidding me Lancaster?   So this lady asks if we are going too and we said no.   And I respond “Well, with only five people doing it, they should let me go too for free!” and the lady gives me a dirty look.  WTF Lancaster lady?!?!  Does no one get my humor? 

So, we leave the theater and it’s empty outside.   How did all those little old couples move so fast!?!?   I mean some actually had oxygen tanks.  I think they ran so fast out of the theater they left tire tracks.  Seriously, I love old couples and I loved that they were there.  Please no angry anons!!!

Keep reading


When I was 15, I met someone who became one of the best friends I have ever had. Back in my hood-rat skateboarding days, I met someone who later changed many lives, Alex Colbert. He was the most humble, generous, and kind-hearted person I have ever met. He struggled with a lung disease called Cystic Fibrosis. His immune system was almost nonexistent, so there were a few more diseases he had to carry around. The first couple years of our adolescent friendship he had a normal amount of energy and strength. With a few annual checkups here and there, the doctors were able to keep his lungs performing at a normal rate.

Alex was able to bring light to any situation. In fact, a lot of our fun was spent in the hospital. We would find our way to the roofs and drop berries on strangers, we attempted to impress the young nurses with our guitars, and we even managed to bring a pigeon into the hospital room to play with. We were inseparable, there was never a dull moment with Alex.

Alex loved music. Most of his time was spent composing and writing music. He was great at discovering soothing melodies, it was very relaxing for him since rest was vital to his condition. He wrote a song about his disease that was later professionally produced and recorded thanks to the connections he made during his hospital visits. He couldn’t have been more thankful.

He really cherished his friends. He didn’t have the opportunity to get out much since he was mostly homeschooled and hospital bound. He loved to make people laugh, his comedic nature made him quite the ladies man. In the hospital, at concerts, and at church, he was always giving people a good laughing ab-workout with his humor.

Moving closer to his last days he was planning his own funeral. He knew he didn’t have much longer, he was on hospice spending most of his time in a medical bed with oxygen tanks keeping his lungs pulsing. He had several deathbed scares, I remember one time we were hanging out in the city and he ran out of oxygen, so I had to sprint him and his wheelchair to the car to charge the tanks. But he knew to stay calm, strong, and always keep his head up.

The night of his death I got a phone call from his brother after work saying he wasn’t doing well. I tried not to think too much of it because these calls were normal at this point. When I got to his house there were a lot of cars parked in the yard. Nervously, I walked into the house to find the nurse was announcing him dead. His mom said he was waiting for me.

The house was peaceful. Everyone, including himself, was expecting this, so it made the news a little easier to bare. We all knew were he was. No more IV’s, no more oxygen, no more bed sores, no more stress. It was all over.

Now his memorial service. This is what disappointed me. We were both part of a drama team at our local church.  The team mostly did happy hand routines to worship music like on Napoleon Dynamite, but occasionally, they did comedy skits. Thats were we came in. We loved to make people laugh, we enjoyed taking part and developing their skits since they were originally written with dry humor. This drama team decided to host his memorial service. Thats what went wrong. A week before the service, me and another mutual friend of Alex, covered and recored the song he wrote about his disease. I approached the drama team to play this song but was turned down with “It’s too late.” How can I be too late with something thats already prepared?

The memorial service was filled with those happy hands presentations, including a few free prize giveaways. This is not why we were all gathered together. They took the focus off of what brought us together that evening. I understand that you want to somehow be involved, but this was unnecessary. You turned down an immediate contribution to his memory, from his best friend, and replaced it with this? Again, we weren’t gathered together for frolicking hands and strobe lights. But a small portion of the evening was devoted to an amazing message from the preacher that Alex was close to.

We all learned something from Alex. I learned that I should not complain, I don’t have anything worth complaining about. Even in tramendous pain, he rarely complained or asked for assistance. It’s a waste of time, complaining doesn’t fix anything. Instead, he fought through and lived longer than anyone expected him to. Faith and positive thinking kept him strong.