i stopped breathing a while ago

Nico Robin from One Piece, Happy Birthday

I missed her birthday by a few days but better late than never I guess.

La douleur exquise Pt.1 (M)

La douleur exquise: The heart-wrenching pain of wanting someone you can’t have.

Summary: You’ve been helplessly in love with your brother’s best friend all your life, but he can’t see you as anything other than a little sister.

Pairing: Wonho(?) x Reader (feat. Jungkook) ((let me live))

Word Count: 8.8k

Warning(s): No smut in this chapter but I’ll promise there will be in the next chapters!

A/N: Hi! So I’ve actually had this done for quite awhile and was debating on whether or not to post it in it’s entirety but I have a lot in store for this idea so I decided to do it in parts! This idea is based off of these pics here x x x of Wonho cuz he just looks so boyfriend & I love him so hardgysasjsknc. And I’m tagging this as a Jungkook scenario because you’ll be seeing him more eventually. Also, I’m working on drabbles in the meantime as well DON’T THINK I FORGOT THEM OK I’LL BE POSTING ONE SOON hope you enjoy this in the meantime!!

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Everdeen Vineyards

happy valentine’s day, just barely! here’s a little drabble that wouldn’t leave me, hope you enjoy <3

“Have you had a chance to look at the menu yet?” Katniss asked the back of the man’s head, her eyes already scanning the room to make note of the new patrons she still needed to greet. A steady flow of customers through the tasting room was keeping her busy–not that she was complaining. Not much, anyway.

The man turned around, and she snapped her gaze back to him, a polite smile fixing itself to her lips. “Not yet, I’m afraid.” He smiled, and her expression froze as she got a look at his face for the first time. “Hey, Katniss.”

It took an embarrassingly long moment for the synapses in her brain to fire, and her smile slipped. “Oh–Peeta?” Why she phrased it like a question, she didn’t know. Of course, it was Peeta. She’d recognize that face, with those blue eyes and that sweet smile, anywhere. She just hadn’t expected to see it here. “Oh my god–what–I mean, hi. Wow.”

He laughed slightly, and she felt herself blushing. She shook her head, forcing a laugh too. “I’m sorry. How are you?” she asked awkwardly. She wasn’t entirely sure of the protocol for greeting an old high school classmate who’d existed mainly on the periphery of her acquaintances. The last time she’d seen him was graduation 10 years ago.

“I’m good,” he said, sliding his hands into his pants pockets. “I just wanted to check this place out. I, ah, saw your post about it on Facebook.” He looked sheepish when he said that, and she blinked. She wasn’t sure how to feel about that–the fact that he could, and did, apparently, read her posts on Facebook. She’d accepted his friend request years ago in college without much thought; they weren’t friends or anything, but she’d received numerous requests from people she barely knew from high school over the years, so it hadn’t seemed too strange. Some–actually, probably most requests–she’d declined. She hadn’t seen the harm in adding him, though. She didn’t know him well, but Peeta Mellark was nice. Funny. Popular. College wrestling champion two years in a row, or something like that–not that she was keeping tabs. He’d regularly show up in her feed over the years, even though they never interacted.

Since she barely used Facebook these days, it just didn’t occur to her he would ever see anything from her.

“Right, of course,” she said with a dazed laugh. “That was the point. Um, thanks for coming. That’s–that’s really nice of you.” She folded her arms over her chest, feeling uncomfortable and not sure what to do with her hands. They were trembling slightly.

Peeta pressed his lips into a small smile, his eyes darting around as he surveyed the room, the people milling around them. “This place looks incredible.”

She wondered if she was ever going to stop blushing at this point. “Thank you. I mean, most of the groundwork was already laid.” She took a deep breath, not wanting to launch into that story. If he’d seen her post, then he’d already learned of her efforts to revitalize her family’s old vineyard, which had been in disrepair since her father’s death more than a decade ago. “Let me get you a menu.”

He nodded while she grabbed a paper menu from a nearby table, holding it out for him. “We do glasses and bottles of the wines listed here, but we also offer a tasting where you can sample seven of our wines. If you haven’t been here before, I recommend that.” She stopped herself and laughed, shaking her head. “Which, of course you haven’t. This weekend is the grand reopening. I just mean–that’s probably what you want to do.”

His eyes flicked up to her from the menu, a wide smile spreading across his face. “Yeah, that sounds good. I’ll do that. Thank you.”

“Sure. Just find a seat outside if you’d like, and I’ll bring the wine to you,” she said with a vague gesture toward the patio, already turning away to scurry to the bar. She needed a moment to compose herself, inexplicably rattled.

It was just…Peeta. Mellark. Here. To see her. Or rather, to see her vineyard, but it was her vineyard. And he’d come because she’d made a post on Facebook proudly announcing the reopening of Everdeen Vineyards, after three years of planning and toiling and fermenting wines until they were just right.

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anonymous asked:

I know requests are closed but could you possible do a little blurb where y/n is Harry's current gf and she gets a little jealous that Carolina is about someone else and Harry's wondering why she doesn't like the song cause every time he asked her about it she shuts down and they fight and h gets mad cause y/n is "hindering his creativity" and they fight but then make up? Thanks love id really appreciate it

I hated that I’d become this person.  Jealousy was not in my repertoire.  I knew the deal when I’d started dating Harry Styles.  He was committed to his art.  He wrote about experiences he’d had which could range from things he’d done to people he’d hung out with.  I was lucky enough to become one of those experiences though he’d never written a song about it.

And maybe that’s where I was stuck.

We’d been dating for a year.  I resisted him at first, I didn’t want the spotlight that came with dating someone like him.  I’m not a girl who walks around in Gucci everywhere I go.  In fact, most weekends I look homeless while I run around LA in workout clothes and not a stitch of makeup.  But he’d persisted.  And he’d finally won me over.  A combination of his kindness and undeniable charm and I fell fast.  He told me daily that I was the one who inspired him.  I was his home.

But yet, he’d never written a song about me.

When he’d come home from Jamaica with new songs burning a hole in his pocket, I was almost as excited as he was to hear them.  We’d been apart for two months with limited communication at his request.  I understood, I didn’t get upset.  But I also wouldn’t say it had been easy.  Missing Harry, whether he was a thousand miles away or two miles away, was just part of my day now.  It went with the territory.

And I was blown away.  I was.  The songs were other worldly.  They were a perfect mix of every artist we listened to together.  They were Harry.  He gave me a little rundown of each song.  What had inspired him, what parts he’d written versus the parts other people had written, how the arrangement came about.  He knew I liked hearing about how the songs were built so he indulged me.  Just one more reason why I loved him so much.

He saved Carolina for last.  He said it was the song that got them out of their funk in the studio when they felt like everything they were coming up with was crap.  I liked it.  A lot.  It was fun and infectious and the kind of song I’d enjoy blasting while driving down the highway.

However, when he launched into the explanation for the song, my love for it dwindled until it was gone.

And that’s where I was stuck.

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Ten Years And Counting

A year ago today, @atticuos send me a Derek Hale fanvideo and that was the start of a beautiful and wonderful friendship (and also the first of many, many videos that she send me). I honestly don’t even know where to begin to describe how important Elisa is to me and how happy she makes me, and I’m just so lucky to have her in my life.

Happy friendaversary, my adorable baby monkey. I love you to the other end of the universe and back a billion times. ♥

As soon as the car door was shut and the sound of the busy city on the other side was reduced to a more muffled sound, Derek sagged back against the driver’s seat, closed his eyes, and let out a heavy and tired sigh, his shoulders losing the tension in them little by little.

It was late. The sun was already going down behind the tall buildings of the city, leaving the sky in a soft pink and orange glow that Derek would probably have been admiring if he wasn’t resting his eyes and considering taking a power nap for just a brief moment. That, and the buildings illuminating the darkening city was blocking out the sunset anyway, so he wouldn’t have been able to see much from the parking lot he was parked in.

That was one of few downsides of living in the city.

Letting out another tired sigh, Derek scrubbed a hand over his face, ran it over his beard (he had let his stubble grow over the years, a few gray hairs joining the darker ones) to fix the wild hairs sticking out, and then grabbed the steering wheel as he turned on the car.

His head was killing him, his brain tired from a long day of having to be around so many people. But, as a history teacher at the community college, that was his job and he liked it. It was the good kind of tired, the kind of tired where he could go home and not feel completely drained and exhausted, the kind of tired where he still had energy to be awake for a few more hours.

He hadn’t felt this relaxed and good in years, and all it had taken was to leave Beacon Hills and his ghosts behind. And, of course, for Stiles to join him in New York, too.

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Save or Break

Pairing: Dean x Reader, Matt (OC)

Warnings: Lots of angst, language, mentions of death

Word count: 1482

Summary: Dean thinks the reader left him for someone else but is that the real reason?

A/N: This fic is for my newly introduced “songfic friday”. Song inspiration for this one was “Breakeven” by The Script.

Originally posted by bittercasblogger

“Sometimes the strongest among us are the ones who smile through silent pain, cry behind closed doors, and fight battles nobody knows about.” -Unknown

Dean’s loud voice, thick with anger and despair filled your ears as you threw your clothes haphazardly into your suitcase.

“What do you think you’re doing Y/N? You’re going to bail out on me and Sammy just like that? After everything we have went through you’re going to call it quits? Because of what? Is it me? Did I do something wrong?”

Hearing his words brought tears to your eyes. You were seconds away from breaking his heart but you had to do this. You did not have another choice, not after what you had found out a while ago. Your hands were shaking; you stopped what you were doing and took a deep breath. Turning towards your soon to be ex-boyfriend, you looked into his eyes. He stopped with his wild gestures, his chest heaving from all the anger and frustration.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and started to speak, trying to sound as cold as possible. “I can’t do this anymore Dean. I don’t want to. Yes, I quit. I’m leaving you. This was never the life I imagined for myself. I want more, okay? And you can’t give me more Dean. I’m sorry.”

His arms dropped dead to his sides. His mouth fell slightly open and a shocked expression spread across his face as he stared at you, letting your words sink in. “You’re… What? Why? I thought… I mean we talked about this. You never wanted more. What changed?”

You could see in his slumped shoulders and teary eyes how much you had hurt him. ”I have to do this,” you kept telling yourself in your mind.

“I-I don’t know Dean, okay? I simply changed my mind. I want to get married and have kids and I want to come home to something that is not as broken as what we have. Let me go Dean. I’m done. Let me be happy.” 

You continued to pack the last pieces of clothing and zipped your suitcase; you didn’t have the courage to look him in the eyes right now. The guilt you felt when doing so made you question your decision but there was no going back now.

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Texts Between Strangers

Note: female/woman ‘reader’

Hey, it was really nice meeting you last night. Maybe we can grab lunch tomorrow? This is Cisco btw.

The text pops up on your phone screen as you’re scrolling through social media. You’ve been lounging in bed on this rainy Saturday morning planning on doing absolutely nothing for the rest of the day but binge watch The Walking Dead and order thai take out later. You just stare at the text for a minute, blinking.

You definitely didn’t give your number to anyone last night because all you did yesterday was pull a double shift at Jitters because they’ve been short staffed lately. A long day at work usually left you looking a bit wrecked so you’re damn sure there wasn’t anyone slipping their digits your way either.

This person has the wrong number.

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color doodles from a while ago. 
*coughs* that i almost forgot about 

Dirty Mouth II


Characters: Jon Moxley (or Dean Ambrose, its more Mox era though) x OC/Reader

Summary: Mox wants more and OFC isn’t quite sure. Follow on from my original Dirty Mouth fic, you don’t need to read the other one, but that one is a bit smuttier if that’s your thaaaang.

Warnings: NSFW, Sexual Content, Swearing, Dirty Talk, Unprotected Sex.

Do let me know if you wanna be tagged in any of my fics (:  Please please please let me know what you think!


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Flufflet #4 for @lifeinahole27 as a reward for writing her CSBB!

Little Neverland Renaissance inspired by the prompt from @runningwithscalpels. Not as fluffy as the rest, but whatever–

Killian found it awkward sitting around the campfire with the prince and princess. Snow White had very clearly not forgiven her husband for hiding his fatal condition, and to avoid talking to David, she kept trying to talk to him.

Meanwhile, Killian was distracted. Swan was also still angry at her father for his secret, and at both himself and Neal for what happened at Dark Hollow. She’d stormed off after they’d made camp for the night, saying something about needing fresh air, and to his dismay, Neal had followed.

Not that Neal was that much competition, if Killian was being honest. It wasn’t Neal whom Swan had kissed. It wasn’t Neal who’d promised to win her heart while she stared in hopeful wonder. And it wasn’t Neal whose name she called out in terror when they were both being torn asunder by shadows.

All the same, though, he was not happy at the thought of them alone together.

Fortunately, not five minutes later, Neal returned, looking quite disgruntled before announcing he was going to sleep.

But Swan did not return. Eventually, Snow White declared that she was going to bed as well. David looked around camp. “Emma’s not back yet.”

“I’ll go find her,” Killian volunteered.

“No, it’s fine, I’ll go.”

“No, I insist.” Killian threw a meaningful look towards Snow, who had her back towards him. David caught the glance and his shoulders sagged. But he nodded; better to let someone else retrieve Emma while he tried to mend things with his wife.

Swan wasn’t far from camp; he only had to walk for a minute or so to find her sitting on the ground, back against a massive fallen tree. “What do you want?” she asked sullenly.

“We’re retiring for the night.” She shot him an amused glance, as it has been night since they’d arrived days ago. “You know what I mean. Your parents sent me to make sure you were all right.”

“I’m fine.”

“You sound fine.”

“Well, I am.” She shivered. Of course she was shivering; her arms were bare and the material of her shirt was incredibly thin.

He pulled off his coat and held it out to her. She stared at it for a moment before sighing and reaching up for it. As she wrapped herself in it, he wondered, briefly, how much it would smell like her when she returned it.

“You can sit with me, I guess,” she said when he didn’t move.

“How could I refuse such an offer?” The ground was cold and hard, and he wished that he still had his coat to sit on. But better to have her be warm than to have his arse be cushioned.

They sat together for some time, staring at the jungle in front of them. He couldn’t help but feel a little triumphant; by this point in time, she’d clearly already sent Neal back to camp, and judging from his mood and expression upon his return, whatever she’d said to him had left him unhappy.

“What if we fail?” Her voice was so small and sad. It hurt to hear.

“We won’t. You won’t.”

“I have before.”

“I don’t know if I believe that.” She snorted derisively. “I mean it, Swan. You recall how we met, don’t you? You saw through me. You got the compass. You defeated Cora and got back to Storybrooke. You stopped me from killing the bloody Crocodile. You saw through Greg and Tamara. You found a way to save Regina and your town. I find it hard to believe you won’t succeed here as well.”

“You know, a lot of what you just listed involves you being a villain.”

“I know. But my point still stands. When have you ever failed?”

She sighed. “I lied to Henry.”

He frowned. “When?”

“About Neal. This was a while ago, when I first came to Storybrooke. He just …” She took a deep, shuddering breath. “He just was so interested, and I didn’t want him to know. So I told him his dad was this firefighter who died heroically.”

He wasn’t sure what a firefighter was, but he understood the sentiment. “I knew Neal when he was young,” he said. “I always assumed he would make a fine young man. To be honest, I’m struggling to comprehend that he could have hurt you so much.”

“He said he loved me,” she said quietly. “That we were going to have a life together, a home. And then he left me behind, and I ended up in prison.”

He wanted to ask why–why had Neal left her? Why had that resulted in prison time for Emma? But if she wanted to explain, she would have. What mattered was that Neal had left. And she hadn’t deserved that.

But more than that: “You did not fail when you lied to Henry.”

“You didn’t see how upset he was.”

“I didn’t say he wasn’t upset. You were trying to protect him; you had no reason to think that you would ever see Neal again, or,” he said wryly, “that he would end up being the son of Rumplestiltskin.” She chuckled, and he smiled, pleased he was able to elicit that reaction from her. “What I’m trying to say is that Henry obviously forgives you, and someday he’ll understand why you lied. Given the many ways in which parents can and do fail their children, this hardly registers.”

“Well, thanks.” She shivered again.

“You’re still cold?”

“A little.”

His heart sped up a bit. “May I?”

“May you what?”

May I wrap my arms around you and pretend that the gesture is romantic instead of platonic? wasn’t something he was sure would be well-received were he to voice it aloud, and so he settled on action.

Swan stiffened as his arm settled around her, but she didn’t speak. His heart continued to hammer in his chest; it was impossible to think that she could not hear it. He wished now that he hadn’t given her his coat, so that his hand could touch her bare arm instead of cool leather, or even that the coat could be gone entirely so that he could feel the heat of her as their sides pressed together.

Gradually, though, she relaxed, and while he waited for verbal protestation or a snide remark, neither came. Instead: “So we’re gonna win?”

He smiled. “Aye.”

Loneliness - Tom Wilson

A/N: This wasn’t requested. I’ve just been having a really stressful weeks and needed to write something that nobody had requested in case I wrote something really shitty. It is long, but I hope you like it xx.

Word count: 3333

Warnings: Anger. Swearing. Sadness.

Master list

Originally posted by hail-to-the-goalies

I turn around in bed, trying my best to get comfortable. The room isn’t cold, but my bones are freezing. The bed is huge, but I’m lying on the edge. I have everything I’ll ever need, and yet again I feel helpless. It is always the same; it is the same loneliness that hunts me every time Tom is away… And I’m not sure if it is worth it anymore.  There are days when I just want to run away, go back to my home and never look back,; but this is Tom’s dream, and if I love Tom, I need to learn to love his dreams just as much as I do him.

Jack jumps onto the bed and lies against my back, melting part of the ice inside of me. Getting Jack had been Tom’s idea so I wasn’t alone every time he was on a trip with the team, but the Australian Shepherd could not replace Tom. He was a good boy nevertheless.

“Hi, buddy.” I whisper, turning around to pet his fluffy head.

Jack has learnt to sense my mood, because he lifts his head and licks my hand, making me smile for the first time today.

“You are the best boy in Washington DC.” I say to him and he picks up his ears, turning his head and looking overall adorable.

I’m whispering, even though that I’m alone in the apartment and no one would care if I scream, but after spending the whole day quiet I don’t think that I can make myself to speak any louder. I spend another hour turning around and petting Jack until I fall into a tormented sleep where I’m alone and I can’t escape my own demons.

Waking up in an empty bed is just as bad as going to sleep alone, so I roll off of it as soon as I open my eyes. I walk towards to the kitchen, the wooden floor cold against my bare feet, and start making coffee when I hear the front door opening.

“Hello?” Tom’s voice is loud and I wish I could just cover my ears.

“Hey.” I answer him, my voice much calmer than his while I keep working on making coffees for both of us now.

“Hello, beautiful.” His voice is about to burst my eardrums when he walks in the kitchen.

I don’t say anything and I keep working on the coffees, pouring almond milk and hazelnut syrup on mine, and a sugar in his black coffee. I hand him the mug and turn around to face him. He is as handsome as always; his hair is messy and his blue eyes are bright.

“Hi.” I just say, and I try to give him a small smile, but it comes like more of a grimace than a smile.

He doesn’t seem to notice, because he leans in and kisses the corner of my mouth softly. I don’t know why this time is different, but I can’t pretend that I’ve been okay this time, so I just look down and wrap my hands around my cup seeking the warmth of the beverage.

“Where is Jack?” He wonders, looking around for our little rascal.

“He was still sleeping when I woke up.” I explain to him and he huffs. “Jack, dad is home!” I call out for him and seconds later we hear the four paws running through the hall. Jack jumps around Tom, excitement clear in his pretty eyes.

I’ve always thought that Tom chose Jack because their eyes look the same; they go from icy blue to the color of a stormy sky, hitting every color in between. One of my favorite games is to name every color I see on Tom’s eyes; he finds it hilarious when I tell him that his eyes are ‘the color of the sky on a summer day when it is too hot to go out’ or ‘the color of a smurf’s butt”.

“Hello buddy, I’ve missed you.” Tom throws himself to the ground, not caring about the suit he is wearing.

I look at the way they play on the floor, Tom getting on his four and grunting and for a second I feel happy, but the feeling washes away when I remember that this is temporary, he is going to leave again.

“I’m taking a shower.” I say, walking to the bathroom and shutting the door.

I lean on the door, feeling my eyes sting for the first time in months. I stopped crying about this a long time ago, but today is an odd day and I let myself roll with it. I turn on the shower and undress myself, shivering when I step in, the water still a little cold. The more time I spend in the shower, the more my crying becomes sobbing and I end up struggling to breathe while I cry under the shower. I don’t even hear Tom coming in until I feel his hands around my wrists.

“Ey, ey, ey, what’s wrong?” He asks, using his finger to make me raise my head.

“Nothing.” I say, stepping away from him, hitting my back against the wall.

“Baby, you are sobbing.” He says, a hurt expression in his face and his shirt sticking to his body.

“I said that I’m fine.” I yell and I choke on my own screams.

“Then why are you crying?” He sounds mad now and I turn around, facing the wall and not him, resting my head on the tiles.

“Because I goddamn want to.” I fist my hands in frustration, punching the wall slowly.

“You know what, sweetheart, I can’t read your mind.” His voice is harsh now and I shiver. “So, you either tell me what’s wrong or you stop acting like your fish has died.”

“Or what?” I challenge him, turning around to look at him.

We hold each other’s gaze for what seems like centuries, neither of us wanting to give it up to the other, until Tom sighs and lifts his hand to punch the wall, just as I was doing, but with all his strength.

“For fuck sake, (y/n), talk to me.” He screams, but I don’t even flinch at his bloody knuckles or his cursing.

“I don’t want to talk, Tom.” I simply answer, turning off the shower, wrapping myself with a fluffy towel and walking out of the bathroom.

“Too bad, I do want to talk.” He follows me, leaning on the wall and looking at me getting dressed.

I ignore him, picking a pair of clean underwear, a pair of leggings and a cozy sweater from my wardrobe and putting them on. I take a deep breath, my eyes still stinging, and turn around to face him.

“Talk to me, please.” He begs and I break down.

I sit on the bed, burying my head on my hands. I’m crying again, but this time it isn’t sobbing, they are just quiet tears. The bed shifts next to me under Tom’s weight and I want to jerk away when he rubs circles onto my back.

“I can’t do this anymore.” I say in between hiccups. “I can’t pretend that I’m fine.”

“What is ‘this’?” He asks and I sigh, lifting my head up, my eyes red and my face soaked in tears.

“The loneliness.” I try to explain. “I can’t handle the distance. I can’t handle being alone. I stay awake at night, not being able to sleep because the bed is too big and too cold without you. I make two cups of coffee every morning, just to find yours on the counter realizing that you are not going to drink it. I don’t wash your shirts until the day before you are back because they smell like you. I see more of you on TV that actual real life.”

“Baby, you are not alone.” He tries to cut me off.

“Tom, I am alone all the time.” I wave my hands in front of me. “Yeah, I hang out with the girls, I go to work… but at the end of the day I’m alone here.”

“(y/n), I know that me being on the road sucks, but you have to understand that this is my job.” He states his case. “This has been everything I’ve ever wanted. This is my dre…”

“Your dream.” I finish the sentence for him. “And I understand that this is what you want.”

“Then what’s the problem?” He asks and I bury my hands in my hair, pulling from the roots.

“The problem is that I can’t do this anymore.” I whisper and he looks at me like I have just poured a bucket of icy water on his head. “But because I understand it is your dream I don’t want to make it difficult for you.”

“What does that mean?” He gets on his feet. “WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT MEAN?”

“What I want to say is that I won’t make it hard for you.” I tell him and I can see the rage showing in his face. “I’ll be gone by the time to get back from practice tonight.”

“So you are giving up on us?” His shirt is still wet and his hair is more of a mess while he runs his hands through his hair. “YOU ARE GIVING UP ON US, JUST LIKE THAT. WITHOUT TALKING. WITHOUT FIGHTING. DO YOU EVEN LOVE ME?”

“This isn’t about love. This isn’t about fighting. It is about both of us being happy.” I say. “You are happy playing hockey and I need to find what makes me happy.”

“You know what? Fuck it. Leave. Today. Now.” His voice is pure poison. “Get the fuck out of my house.” He spits, leaving the room and a few seconds later the house, slamming the front door.

The worst thing about the last week is that I don’t feel any worse than I did before. I’m still hurting, but nothing has really changed; Tom and I don’t see each other, and the only difference is that we don’t talk or text.

After Tom left I packed up as much stuff as I could fit in my car and left the apartment, leaving Jack behind. That’s probably what hurts the most; I’m completely on my own now. But it has taken me a couple days to find a nice apartment to move in and start moving on.

My day has been okay so far; that’s the thing, everyday was just okay. I just want to go to bed one day and feel like it hasn’t been a waste of twenty-four hours, so when my coworkers asked if I wanted to go out for drinks I said yes. The night has been fun, and my coworkers made me smile for the first time in what it seems like forever, so the idea of going back to my apartment wasn’t really appealing.

“C’mon girl, you can do this.” I encourage myself. I need to stop wiping and start moving on.

The doors of the elevator open and I take my heels off, stepping on the soft carpet of the hallway. I turn right and walk down the hall to my apartment when I see it, a figure sitting next to my door. This is Washington after all, so I hold my shoes so I can use the heel to defend myself if necessary and I start walking as quietly as I can towards the unknown figure.

“Tom?” I drop my shoes in disbelief, kneeling down so I can shake him awake. “Tom, what are you doing here?”

It takes him a moment to open his eyes, and when he does I wish he hadn’t; his normally bright and blue eyes are now puffy, bloodshot and grey, with no spark on them. My heart breaks in a thousand billion pieces just because how helpless he looks; Tom Wilson, who could punch his way out of every situation, looks helpless. He opens his mouth for a second but closes it as fast as he has opened it, not sure of what to say. I take that time to straight up, picking my shoes up and opening my bag, looking for my keys. If he isn’t going to talk I might as well just get inside and try to forget how grey his eyes are.

“(y/n), wait.” He says when I insert the key in the keyhole and unlock the door.

I lean on the door, trying to figure out if I want to open the door and get inside and leave Tom outside, both from my apartment of my life, or I want to listen what he has to say. Curiosity wins over common sense because, as my mom says to me all the time, common sense is the least common of the senses.

“Want a drink?” I ask, opening the door and pushing it wide open, inviting him in.

He gets on his feet fast, stumble and hitting the door frame with his shoulder and hissing. I shut the door when we are both in and I stand there, trying to figure out what to do next; what do you do when your boyfri… ex-boyfriend shows up on your door?

“I don’t really have that much to drink.” I confess, walking towards the kitchen and looking inside the fridge. “Beer, orange juice, milk and diet cok…”

“I can’t believe you don’t have diet coke.” Our voices overlap and we both chuckle. “Water is fine.”

I nod, taking a cup from the cupboard and filling it up with chilled water, neither cold nor warm, just as he likes it.

“Thank you.” He says, grabbing it from my hands, our fingers touching for a second.

We both walk around the couch and sit as far from the other as possible. The air is heavy, changed with electricity as both of us look everywhere but the other, neither of us wanting to break the silence. Tom drinks from his cup and I play with my own fingers, picking on a small piece of skin.

“Stop doing that.” He scolds me, giving me a warning look before realizing what he’s done and sinking even deeper in the couch. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s okay. You are right.” I say, putting my hands under my thighs so I can’t pick on my fingers anymore.

“So…” He starts and I look at him, seeing him struggle. “How have you been?”

“It’s been a busy week.” I don’t lie, my week has been busy as hell, but I don’t tell him how shitty it has been as well. “You?” I casually ask.

“Definitely busy.” He agrees, grabbing a coaster from the middle of the coffee table and puts it down so he can rest his drink on the table. “It’s a nice place.”

“It is. It was fully furnished, so moving it has been easy.” The conversation is light, just to fill up the empty space between us.

Tom nods, but doesn’t say anything else. He seems deep in thought and I don’t do anything to snap him off of it, so silence is the king of the room once more.

“I get it now.” I hear Tom’s voice from what it seems far away and I realize that I have spaced out as well.

“What do you get?” I ask, confused.

“What you said.” I raise an eyebrow, not understanding what he is saying and he sighs, frustrated. “The loneliness, feeling alone.”

“Oh, that.” I answer, not really knowing what to say. “It wasn’t that big of a de…”

“But it was, and I’m sorry.” It’s the first time that he is actually looking at me. “I’m sorry that I didn’t understand. I’m sorry that I didn’t listen. I’m sorry that I didn’t notice. I’ve spend a week by myself, just a week, and I felt like I was drowning the whole time.”

Words get stuck in my throat and tears are burning in my eyes, so the only thing I can do I look at his cloudy eyes and hope that he keeps talking.

“I know that I was a jerk, and I know that it is unfair of me to even ask, but I would love to have you back, baby.” He says, and he really looks like he’s taken a huge weight out of his shoulders.

I chew my bottom lip, my mind racing at a thousand miles per hour. I’ve missed him, I’d be lying to myself if I said I haven’t, but I’m not sure that love is enough to heal my shattered heart. I can’t go back to the way the things were before.

“I can’t…” My voice comes out as a whisper. “I can’t go back to the way things were before. I can’t go back to your place. I can’t go back to missing you, having everything reminding me of you.”

“But baby, I love you…” He starts, but I cut him off.

“And I love you too, so much it hurts.” I tell him. “That’s why I can’t do it anymore. Love isn’t supposed to hurt. Love is supposed to make my heart flutter, not break every time you aren’t around.”

Tom’s eyes are glossy and he covers his face with his hands to hide it.

“Come with me then. You won’t be alone.” He says, sounding defeated.

“That’s not how it works. We need to be okay when we are apart, and I’m not okay when you are gone.” I explain to him and he looks at me, tears falling down his cheek.

“I don’t know what to do or say to help you, (y/n).” He looks helpless again.

“I can’t miss you and see you everywhere.” I say, my voice breaking in the middle of the sentence. “I see you everywhere in your apartment.”

“Then don’t be in my apartment. Live here or there or wherever makes you happy. Find a way to miss me with your own terms. Take your time to try to figure out how you want to love me.” He sounds both passionate and defeated. “But don’t leave me.”

I look down at my hands and I feel the couch shift besides me, where Tom has moved. He grabs my hands from my lap and brings them to his lips, kissing my knuckles and my palms and my fingertips.

“Don’t leave me.” He repeats and I break down, sobbing onto his shoulder as he picks me up and puts me carefully on his lap, hugging me like I was a glass doll.

“I feel like I’m so selfish.” I say in between breaths.

“You are not selfish, princess.” He whispers, rubbing circles on my lower back. “You were lonely, and that’s my fault and my fault only.”

“Are you okay with me having my own place?” I ask, looking at his eyes so he can’t lie to me. “Not living together during the season… just until I can figure it out. I need a space that it’s just mine, where you aren’t everywhere.”

“I only see one problem…” I look at him, trying to figure out what’s wrong. “Jack.”

“He’ll go where I go.” I tell him, making it clear that I won’t accept no as an answer.

“But…” He starts complaining but stops when he sees my face expression. “Sure thing, baby. But make sure I see him at least once a week.”

“Of course, pretty eyes.” I tell him, wrapping my arms around his neck, looking at his now bright blue eyes. “We wouldn’t want your kid to forget your face.”

Tom runs a finger down my cheek, collecting the leftover tears.

“I love you.” He says, his forehead pressed against mine.

“I love you too.”

“I want you to feel like we are the couple your poetry books talk about.” He whispers, his lips getting closer to mine.

“We already are.” And our lips crash.


pairing: lin manuel miranda x reader

word count: 1600 

warnings: self harm mention, self harm implication, self harm

prompt/request: “Can you please write an imagine where the reader is going to/already cutting them self and LMM comes over and stops them and then fluffy ending? Thanks!” from an anon. 

a/n: this is a really sensitive topic and im really scared to post this one because i don’t know if i did it right!!! if anyone has issues with it, i will take it down. the most important part of this fic is the end, after all. but, for anyone who is feeling these urges right now, this is for you. reminder that if you ever want to talk about your thoughts, and if youre ever not in a good place, im always here for you to talk to and i will help you through whatever i can! either way, enjoy <3

“Y/N, open up!”

Eyes widening, you placed a hand on the counter and began to pull yourself up from the bathroom floor. It weren’t normally here on Saturday nights – you were normally out at clubs or bars or sitting on your couch, watching TV and kicking it back. But it had been a rough couple of weeks, and when you arrived home from work, you found yourself collapsing onto the linoleum tiles and doing something you… well, doing something you promised yourself and everyone else you would try to stop doing a long time ago.

Let’s just say you broke that promise.

“Y/N?” Lin called as he continued to bang a fist on your front door.

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quill-wrighter  asked:

I have been through your entire blog and it is amazing! Though I saw a post a while ago about humans being the only ones to laugh and that got me thinking. We as humans can have serious laughing fits at sometimes the smallest of things. Where you start laughing so hard that your face changes colors and all you can do is crumble the the ground in a ball shaking in silent laughter because you just can't breath yet can't stop laughing. I wonder how aliens would react tho that kind of situation.

Originally posted by yourreactiongifs

Originally posted by harrisbn

New setup, new hair 😺💜 triple layer honeycomb, grenade perc ashcatcher and hello kitty bowl. I’ve been tagged by these lovely people a while ago to take a hit: @hotline-sweetheart @nostradumbasss @cannabislittleb1iss 😃✨
Now I’m tagging @stillnotbrooklynnlol @dudeletsflyaway @weed-breath @emmybug @corgiwitch and really anyone who wants to take a hit! Stay high guys!

The Little Shop across the Street

CS AU: I work at a flower shop and you’re a tattoo artist from across the street and you always come in here to practice drawing flowers and you’re really hot

Happy Valentine’s Day @high-seas-swan !!!! It is I, your CSSV. I’m sorry I was not able to woo you as you deserved, but life got really hectic around here…

Lana, I hope you like this little token of my appreciation. I saw a post on your blog where it said you wanted someone to write this prompt, so well, here it is!

Huge thanks to @nowforruin for beta duties on this one.

Ao3 FF.net

The Little Shop across the Street

He couldn’t recall how long the shop across the street had been closed, but Killian could remember with clarity the day everything changed for him.

He was walking down the street early in the morning, ready to open his flower shop - Jewel of the Rose - when he spotted the blonde figure struggling with her keys trying to open the door of the shop.

He was about to cross the street to offer his help - mentally calculating how could he manage to do so with only one hand that was currently carrying his morning cup of coffee - when the blonde seemed to take matters into her own hands - or legs - and kicked the door open. Killian raised his eyebrows in admiration as he witnessed the angel of fury straighten her shirt before she picked up the cardboard box that was set on the sidewalk and entered the building. His eyes focused on capturing the very last moment of her presence on the street as he watched her slam shut what was left of the door.

One thing was clear.  Whoever that woman was - and whatever business she was opening - it was going to make his life a lot more interesting.

It took a few more weeks until the shop opened. Each day Killian arrived to open his shop to find the blonde woman already across the street, busy carrying boxes, painting, or organizing.  The sign was the last thing she put up and Killian quickly made his way towards the front windows of his shop to watch her hang it.

Swan Tattoos.

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Jughead & Reader: Secrets

Summary: As Sheriff Keller’s daughter, you have a lot of rules you have to live by and having Kevin as your protective older brother doesn’t exactly make things easier. Because of this you hid your relationship with Jughead but one night they both found out the truth.


Listen to: Summer Skin - Death Cab For Cutie

“I really don’t think that’s what Rosebud meant,” you said to Jughead as you walked down the street together, hand in hand. You had just finished watching Citizen Kane at the drive-in. Because of how long the movie was, mostly everyone left before the end. That gave you and Jughead the opportunity to talk over the movie to point out details to one another.

Jughead rolled his eyes. “It’s just something that he liked as a child, representing his childhood.”

“But you’re missing the point!” You laughed. “Rosebud symbolizes his childhood and how it shaped him into the man he was when he died.”

“I disagree.” He shook his head. 

“You’re wrong. Just say you’re wrong.” You laughed. 

“Fine. I’m wrong.” He laughed and kissed you. You stood on your tip toes and kissed him back happily, loving the little “arguments” the two of you had almost daily. 

You slowly pulled away but kept your arms wrapped around each other. “I wish you didn’t have to leave,” you said to him. 

Jughead glanced at your house and saw your father’s truck in the driveway. “I could sneak in through the back door,” he suggested. “And I could sneak into your room and I could stay the night.”

“And we can argue about Citizen Kane again.” You smirked.

“Exactly.” He laughed and kissed you. “Come on. Just this once?”

“You’re a bad influence, Jones. What would my father, the sheriff of the town, say?” You grabbed his hand and led him towards your house. 

“He’ll never find out.” He smiled. 

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You usually don’t leave the Sanctuary, not because you don’t want to. But because Negan needs and wants you around the whole time.

Back in your first weeks you were just helping the doc, sitting around most of the time and watching him.
You were a nothing and sure that when you’d die, no one would care. Especially Negan who sent you one day a confused glare, like who-the-fuck-is-her, as he appeared in the infirmary with the injured Dwight.
But you never complained as long as you had enough points for food and a room.
Then one day the whole situation changed as some of the Saviors got attacked and the doc couldn’t handle the amount on wounded men. Until today you don’t know what exactly happened, only that you didn’t think twice as you start treating the men. You even yelled orders at Negan without thinking about the consequences. But instead of being mad or iron your face he made you his personal nurse.

“(Y/N)? It’s Dwight.. (Y/N), you there?” His croaking voice full of panic and with a frown you take the radio out of your pocket.
“Dwight, what is it?”
“You need to come back. Now!”
“I can’t, we just arrived at the hospital.. wait, where’s Negan?”
Normally no one of his men calls you during the radio, except Negan needs something special and is busy.
“Now!” He repeats before the connection is lost and what’s left is the steady static.

“Hurry!” You shout from the passengers seat at Simon, even when you know that he can’t drive faster.
Simon just mutters something in his mustache while you start nibbling on your nails. A bad habit you did the last time with eleven, but you never heard Dwight like this.
Finally you see the fence of the factory and suppress it to jump out of the Jeep and run the rest of the way. Instead you’re waiting until Simon stops the car before sliding out.
They’re already waiting for you, their faces desperate and you run upstairs to the infirmary.
“Finally.” Dwight sighs while you look at the bloody Negan. “The doc already left, because Negan didn’t stop screaming at him. A few minutes ago he passed out.”
At least they stopped the bleeding as you take away the bandage from his stomach, staring in shock at the bullet wound.
“Who did this?” You ask while you collect the things you’ll need and pull gloves over your hands.
“Someone from the communities.” Dwight turns away as you start searching for the bullet with a forceb.
Negan yelps painfully as you pull the bullet out, his eyes moving fast under the lids.
“I know, I know. But I’m here now.” You try to soothe him and it works as his breath becomes more steady.

“You can go now, he’ll survive.” You say to Dwight as you inject a painkiller in the infusion bag on Negan’s arm.
Dwight nods and looks down at Negan before heading out of the room.
“You’re here.” Negan croaks out, eyes still closed.
“Sure or you think I waste the opportunity to stare at your body?” You ask and he snorts amused.
“You could’ve ask.” His hand searching for yours, squeezing it grateful as it finds it.
“That’d be less exciting.” You lean forward to kiss his smooth cheek. “Rest a little, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

A Sheep in Wolf’s Clothing

Fandom: Star Trek AOS.
Leonard McCoy X Reader.
Prompt: Stop talking about love for a minute and help me with this bullet wound.” For @kaitymccoy123‘s Spring has Sprung challenge.
Word Count: 1514.
minor description of a bullet wound, a little bit of blood, mentions of violence.
Rating: Teen+.
Genre: action, fluff.
Summary: An away mission gone awry has reader admitting feelings she wasn’t quite ready to have out in the open yet.
Author’s Note: The title is a play on the old expression of biblical origin for something that’s not as it appears.  This was hastily written and I feel like it felt a lot better in my head than it does on paper, but I hope you enjoy it, loves!  Especially you, Kaity dearest!

A Sheep in Wolf’s Clothing

Everything around you has long since faded away.  Your world is reduced to the immediate bubble of space around your body as you pace nervously back and forth in the wake of a firefight that’s left the guards who’d chased you and Dr. McCoy out of town out of ammo and far behind.

It was supposed to be a peaceful, run-of-the-mill supply drop off for the town’s medical clinic.  Starfleet had never had problems with this planet’s people before, and so you the captain had decided a security detail wasn’t necessary.  A doctor and nurse were plenty for the short trip down, he’d said, and so you’d come along on his orders.

You supposed it wasn’t Jim’s fault that female crew members had always historically come down in dress uniforms and that they didn’t appreciate how short your dress was.  It also wasn’t his fault that they had reacted with violence against your sacrilege.  You were the one feeling personally responsible for the whole situation now.  Ordinarily you would have changed into a more practical uniform, but because you were only supposed to be planetside for a few minutes to makes the exchange, you’d elected not to waste any time getting into different clothes so you could just get the whole mission over and done with.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

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Not Another Teen Cliché (That Ended Up Being Totally Not Cliché At All)

Based somewhat off this.
Title based somewhat off this

The whole thing was malicious.

Chloe had been sitting at her lunch table with her friends enjoying one of the last high school meals they would have at that specific picnic table in Barden High’s courtyard.

“Look,” Alice Peterson sneered, pointing to one of their classmates sitting alone under a tree.

“It’s that Beca Mitchell girl,” one of Alice’s lackeys said with a grin.

Chloe shifted uncomfortably on her wooden bench spot. She glanced across at Aubrey who was silent throughout the conversation, despite her obvious discontent with the conversation and the girl in it.

“Shame,” Alice shook her head rhetorically, “some girls just can’t be as attractive as we can.”

It was conversations like those that made Chloe question why she ate lunch with those girls three of her four years of high school. Why she was friends with them and why she even put up with them a little bit.

“Bet even you can’t make her pretty,” a lackey noted, nodding at the girl across the way.

Alice sat and contemplated for a moment. “No,” she scoffs for a moment, “but I bet I know who could.”

All eyes turned to the redhead.

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