making this hole thing was a pain

Aries: Do not mourn over things that never did you any good. Do not look at those moments with rose colored nostalgia. They will always lead you astray. 

Taurus: Keep your head up. The critics will come hard and fast. Tell them to fuck off with middle fingers up. You are so much better then this fucking town.

Gemini: The ghosts can’t hurt you anymore. Even as they reach out from the past. You’ve got the salt. You’ve got the gun now. You are in charge, and they should be scared. Not you. Not anymore.

Cancer: Stop going back to burned bridges. Trying to make something out of the ashes. Remind yourself you set the flames for a god damn reason. Mourn the loss, but don’t keep going back to the scene of the crime.

Leo:  You are not the chaos around you. Not the pain that the aftermath is causing. You are so much more then the bad things you think about yourself. Learn to make the eye of the storm your home.

Virgo: Sometimes you need to let go of the past and all of the memories it holds. It’s going to hurt in a way you couldn’t imagine, but you have to clean out the infection to get better. You will get better.

Libra: Stop following people down rabbit holes. If you were meant to be 6 feet under you would be. Do not rush time and do not test fate. You can not try to take their place.

Scorpio:   Do not apologize for doing what you had to do. For having a spine. For learning to pick up a knife and defend yourself. You do not owe them  an explanation. You do not owe them an apology. You do not owe them anything.

Sagittarius: Stop trying to destroy your beauty, just because you can not see it. It doesn’t matter how much alcohol. How many pills. How many scars you give yourself. You are still as bright as the sun. Just as beautiful as the moon.

Capricorn:  Hold them to the standards you expect of yourself. If they can not meet them, then they don’t deserve a seat at the table with you. Do not dim your light or slow down to make them comfortable. It’s not worth it.

Aquarius:  It’s okay to indulge. Okay to go numb every once in awhile. You do not have to sit there and make yourself suffer night after night, just to be strong. It is okay to break. It is okay to be weak. It is okay to need a moment of true peace.

Pisces: If you keep faking a smile long enough, you’ll eventually start to believe it to. Just try and pretend at being happy now, so that you can learn to be really happy when the time comes.

—  This Weeks Zodiac
SEND ONE IF WE HAVEN'T INTERACTED

Friendly:

“Hi, I’m new here, can you show me around?”
“Uh.. I think I’m lost.”
“Wow, those are some awesome threads!”
“Don’t mind me, I just like making new friends!”
“Oh dear, do you need help?”
“You look like you could use a hand.”
“You look a little lost, can I be of assistance?”

Rude:

“Watch where you’re going.”
“Oops, did I do that?.. Oh well.”
“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”
“Get lost, would ya?”
“I don’t have time to play tour guide.”
“Thankfully, it’s not my job to help you.”

Dramatic:

“Wait! Stop!”
“Don’t let them find us.”
“I don’t wanna be left alone.”
“Get out of the way!”
“Are you dead?”
“Hurry! Run!”

Flirty:

“Can I skip dinner and go right for dessert?”
“I think I just found the most beautiful girl in Japan.”
“Hey there, Foxy Mama.”
“Huh? Oh yeah, this view is nice.”
“How about we go back to my place? I’ve got board games.”
“All you have to do is say, "yes”.

Romantic:

“Wow, your eyes are the most beautiful, that I’ve ever seen.”
“I’ve been enchanted by your amazing voice.”
“Ah, I’m sorry, I could have sworn you were an angel.”
“Am I dreaming, or do you really exist?”
“I wasn’t aware that Goddesses/Gods existed.”
“No flower or scenery can compare to your beauty.”

Enemy:

“At long last! I’ve finally found you! Now I can kill you!”
“What an ugly mug, it’s a good thing I won’t have to see you for long.”
“How would you like to be full of holes?”
“You know, I think your head looks better detached from your body. ”
“I will make you experience unimaginable pain.”
“Beg all you want, but your fate is going to end the same way.”

Unemotional:

“Love is illogical, it means nothing to me.”
“The more you cry, the more reasons I find to leave your pathetic being.”
“Do not touch me, I don’t require affection from anyone.”
“Why are you hugging me?”
“He’s dead, let’s move on.”
“Why is family so important to you?”.

I hurt myself today
To see if I still feel
I focus on the pain
The only thing that’s real
The needle tears a hole
The old familiar sting
Try to kill it all away
But I remember everything
What have I become
My sweetest friend
Everyone I know goes away
In the end
And you could have it all
My empire of dirt
I will let you down
I will make you hurt
I wear this crown of thorns
Upon my liar’s chair
Full of broken thoughts
I cannot repair
Beneath the stains of time
The feelings disappear
You are someone else
I am still right here
What have I become
My sweetest friend
Everyone I know goes away
In the end
And you could have it all
My empire of dirt
I will let you down
I will make you hurt
If I could start again
A million miles away
I would keep myself
I would find a way
—  Hurt by Nine Inch Nails
Hang on To That Feeling

MASTERLIST

A/N: This is a planned post. I’m going to put a trigger warning on this just in case. This one is a bit different, so feedback would be lovely. 

Word count: 3,278

Originally posted by your-local-killjoy


”Hey Brian, I don’t have much time. What is it?” I asked, struggling holding the phone to my ear using only my left shoulder. 

My fingers moved across the keyboard on the computer without my eyes gazing down once as I continued to type. 

Multitasking had never been my thing and talking on the phone while typing in corrections for the next meeting at work, wasn’t really working out for me. 

“It’s Shawn” he stuttered and then the air in my lungs what punched out entirely. 

Keep reading

Third Love Part Two

Originally posted by geezerwench

Originally posted by shamelessturkey

Part One

This is the last part.

Text in bold is flashbacks. Thank you for your patience with this one, I hope you guys enjoy it xxx

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He watched the door slam shut behind you and he turned to the wall.
“Fuck!” Jax yelled and clenched his fist.
He pounded it against the wall, over and over.
The white paint slowly turned red as his knuckles bled but he didn’t stop, not yet.
After a few more hits Jax stepped back and ran his hand through his hair, brushing it out of his face with his good hand.
He stretched out his fist but ignored the burning pain in his knuckles and he glared at the bloodied hole in the wall.
He knew he should have ran after you, tried to make you see sense. But he had never seen you so mad before and he knew he deserved it.
Honesty. Respect. That was all you ever asked for.
You didn’t care about the things he did for the club, the club secrets he had to keep from you. You didn’t care that he barely took you on dates. You didn’t care that he had a son to another woman. You didn’t care that he was a criminal, an outlaw. You didn’t care about the late nights or the lonely ones.
You didn’t ask him to stay home with you, didn’t nag him or need to know every detail about his days or things with the club.
All you had ever asked of him was that when it came to your relationship, he was honest with you.
And he hadn’t been.
Jax knew he should have told you Tara was back the day she had turned up at the clubhouse.
But his head had been a mess and he needed time to work out what this all meant.
It was like a ghost had walked back into his life.
He never thought he’d see her again after she left and when she’d walked through those doors he felt like a teenager again, and all those feelings he had once had came flooding back to him.
He should have told you what happened, how he was feeling, but hell he didn’t even know how he felt.
Jax leant against the wall and stared at the shattered glass and splatters of whiskey on the floor.
The kitchen was a mess and it seemed fitting to mess inside his head. He needed to make sense of these feelings, of these thoughts that were taking control.
He needed to leave, needed to get out of this empty house.
He turned and walked out the door, heading for his bike.
A long ride was what he needed to clear his head.
~
Laughter left your lips and you wiped the counter thoroughly.
“I’m serious! He turned up in a denim suit. A juit.” Cassie said.
You laughed again and shook your head.
For a month now you had been working with Cassie at the diner and almost everyday she had a new story to tell you about her disastrous love life and the many bad dates she’d had that left a smile on your face.
The bell above the door chimed and you glanced at the entrance.
Three men entered, all in leather and all ridiculously attractive.
You watched them walk casually into the diner and slide into a booth by the window, near the back.
“Hellooo handsome.” Cassie said beneath her breath and you smiled and winked at her.
“Shotgun.” You said and grabbed a notebook and slid it into your apron pocket.
Before she could argue you stepped out from behind the counter and approached the table.
There was a tall one, wearing a slouched beanie and a full beard. A younger looking guy, with a shaved Mohawk and tribal tattooes on his skull. And a blonde, with long blonde hair and blue eyes.
“Welcome to Daisy’s Diner, what can I get for you this mornin?”
The guys glanced up at your approach and you smiled warmly to each of them.
“Just coffee, thanks.” The one with the beard smiled.
You nodded.
“Anything else? The cherry pies real nice.”
“I bet it is.” The blonde said with a wink and a smirk and you tried to ignore his eyes looking you up and down.
You smirked back and met his eye.
“I’ll grab a slice.” He said.
You scribbled the order in your notebook.
“Won’t be long.” You smiled sweetly, making sure to flutter your eyelashes and headed back to the counter.
You could feel their eyes watching you as you walked and you made sure to sway your hips a little more than normal.
“Thoughts?” Cassie whispered once you were behind the counter.
“The one in the beanie’s married. No rings on the other two though.” You reported.
She nodded and bit her lip.
“I call dibs on the Mohawk.”
You laughed and quickly got the order ready.
A phone rang out and you glanced at the table and saw the blonde answer a call.
You grabbed the pot of coffee and the plate of pie and headed towards the table.
When you were almost there the three men stood and the blonde turned towards you.
“We gotta go, sorry darlin’.”
“Sorry for wasting my pie or for staring at my ass earlier?” You asked.
He raised his eye brows and smirked.
“Oh I ain’t sorry for that darlin.“
You laughed and he flashed you a wink before turning and following the others out of the diner.

~
The sound of birds chirping woke him and he squinted at the bright sun shining down on him.
For a moment he was confused at his surroundings but they slowly familiarised around him.
Jax always ended up here when times were tough, or when he needed to clear his head.
Some people found cemeteries eerie, creepy and uncomfortable. But Jax found them peaceful, and he seeked comfort sitting in front of his fathers grave.
He yawned and rubbed his eyes, wincing at the pain that tore through his fist.
Slowly he stood and stretched his body, already aching from sleeping on the hard ground.
Jax walked slowly to the garden tap that he’d used to wash his face many times before.
After freshening up Jax headed for his bike.
He had left his phone at home last night and so he had no idea what the time was.
As he walked to his bike he contemplated whether or not he should head home.
You would be there and he knew you’d still be mad, and with every right.
He knew he needed to face you, to explain himself.
But he needed to freshen up first.
Jax swung his leg over his bike and brought it to life. He would go to the clubhouse, freshen up in the dorms and head home. Hell he might even buy some flowers on the way.
~
“Same again?”
“Please,” You smiled at the bartender.
He smiled back and turned to get your drinks ready.
Cassie had managed to convince you to come out with her and she had dragged you to one of the local bars.
Sitting next to her, you were like chalk and cheese.
She sat with her perfectly straightened hair, perfectly applied make up, tight red dress and six inch heels.
And then, there was you. Ripped black jeans, combat boots, Guns ‘n’ Roses tshirt and your hair pulled into a rough high ponytail.
The only make up you wore was a perfect flick of black eyeliner on your upper lid.
But somehow the two of you got on like a house on fire, despite the differences in your personalities.
The bartender passed you your drink and you thanked him before taking a sip.
You were putting the glass back on the bar when you felt a presence next to you and you turned towards the newcomer.
“Hey cherry pie.”
You smirked at the blonde biker, instantly recognising him from the other day in the diner.
“Hey stranger.” You purred.
“Hey I’m Cassie.” Your friend interrupted.
He glanced at her and smiled before introducing himself as Jax and introducing his friend, ‘Juice’.
You chatted for a while, well flirted mostly, before Cassie dragged you away to dance.
Almost an hour had passed and you knew they were watching when you heard a new song start.
The music was familiar to you and you laughed and turned towards the bar, where a smirking Jax watched with a playful hint in his eyes.
“She’s my cherry pie, cool drink of water such a sweet surprise.”
The song played, Warrants ‘Cherry Pie.’
Jax raised his eyebrow, challenging you.
You don’t know what came over you but you flashed him a wink before stepping on a stool and climbing on top of the closest table.
And from across the bar, Jax watched as you swung your hair and swayed your hips to the music. His eyes were focused on you and with each move you made, the rest of the world fell away.

~
Jax pulled into the lot and parked in his usual spot along the row of bikes.
The garage was still shut and he frowned slightly.
Perhaps it was earlier in the day than he had first thought.
He hopped off his bike and placed his helmet on the handlebars before heading towards the clubhouse entrance.
He had only taken a few steps when the doors flew open and Gemma and Chibs came running out.
“Where have you been?!” Gemma demanded.
Jax ran his hand through his hair as he walked closer.
After the night he’d had, the last thing he needed was a lecture from his mother.
“Look, mom-“
“Dont worry about it, Jackie boy. Theres been an accident.” Chibs interrupted.
Jax froze and glanced between them, his face filling with concern.
“Its (y/n), Jax.”
His heart dropped.
“Is she..?” His words fell off, unable to bring himself to finish the question.
“Shes in intensive care.”
Jax nodded and stepped backwards before he turned and headed for his bike.
Gemma and Chibs called after him but he ignored their voices.
Everything seemed to move in slow motion, and no matter how hard he tried his legs couldn’t carry him any faster.
His body went into auto-pilot and he yanked on his helmet, the bike roaring to life beneath him while his mind raced.
Gemma and Chibs moved past him in a blur as he pulled the bike out of his spot and sped out of the lot.
He didn’t bother looking for cars, didn’t bother stopping at the red lights.
He didn’t bother with the speed limit as he weaved his bike in between the oncoming cars.
All he knew was that you needed him.
Eventually he stopped in front of the hospital and he stopped his bike and leapt off it, letting his helmet drop to the pavement beside him.
Jax ran up the steps, his heart thumping rapidly in his chest.
The woman behind the desk glanced up as he ran through the doors.
“(y/n) (y/l/n), where is she?!”
~
You always hummed when you cooked and this morning was no exception.
Jax leant against the doorway, a smile on his face as he watched you work.
You rummaged in the drawer for a whisk before whipping the batter in the bowl.
“Whats cooking good lookin?”
You turned and saw Jax watching you and laughed lightly.
“Pancakes.” You smiled.
He grinned and walked into the kitchen and took you by the waist.
He laid his chin on your shoulder and watched you whisk the mixture.
“With blueberries?” He asked.
“And bacon.” You answered.
“God I love you.”
You laughed and moved his hands from his waist.
“Sit down, it wont be long.”
He obeyed and took a seat at the table.
He could get used to this, waking up to you cooking in the kitchen, naked beneath his SAMCRO shirt and your hair hanging loosely.
It was a sight he could never get sick of.
You quickly got the breakfast together and plated before carrying it to the table.
Jax let out a whistle as you placed the dish in front of him and you smiled before taking your seat.
You both ate in contempt silence, enjoying each others company.
After eating You cleared the table and Jax had a smoke.
You were washing the dishes when you felt his hands creep around your waist once more and you leant into him.
“Thank you.” He whispered in your ear.
“I might have a shower,” He told you. “Why don’t you join me?”
You chuckled. “Ive already showered.”
Jax raised his eyebrows and dipped his hands into the sink.
He cupped his hands, letting them fill with the soapy water before splashing you with it.
You gasped and squealed.
“Jax!”
He laughed and splashed you again.
Before you knew it, you were both soaked, covered in bubbles and sliding around the kitchen floor.
You splashed him once more and he pulled you into his arms.
“I love you.” He said.
You smiled and looked into those blue eyes.
“I love you too, Jax.”

~
Jax ran down the corridor and pushed through the door the lady had directed him to.
When he entered the room he froze in his steps at the sight of you.
Lying there, in the hospital bed. There was a bandage wrapped around your head, you had a black eye and your lips were swollen, along with multiple grazes along your cheek.
Your arm was in a cast and you lay there so.. peaceful.
Jax stepped closer slowly and his legs carried him to the seat next to your bed.
He sunk into the seat and his eyes brimmed with tears.
You needed him, and he hadn’t been there.
How long had you been like this?
The doctor said you were in a coma, and although you were stable he had said the damage was extensive, and there was a chance you may not pull through.
Jax grabbed your hand gently and squeezed it.
He couldn’t bring himself to pull his eyes away from your face.
“Im so sorry, (y/n).” He whispered.
He should have followed you, he should have been there. He should have protected you.
Seeing you lying here like this was killing him and you looked so.. broken.
Tears ran down his cheeks and all he could do was apologise.
A door opened behind him but he didn’t turn.
He lifted your hand to his lips and kissed it gently, praying that you would open your eyes.
But you didnt.
“Jax?”
He turned and when he saw Tara standing at the end of the bed anger rose within him.
Gently, he placed your hand back on the bed and he stood.
“What are you doing here?”
Tara blinked rapidly and reached for his hands but he snatched them away.
“I wanted to make sure you were okay.” She said. “I thought you might need me.”
Jax grimaced.
“What I need, is for my girlfriend to open her eyes.”
“Jax I-“
“Why did you come back, Tara?” He snarled.
“For you, Jax. I came back for you.”
Jax scoffed and shook his head but before he could reply she continued speaking.
“I got my degree, Jax. I have a job,a house. I have everything Ive ever wanted. Everything except you.”
“Its too late Tara. Im with Y/N now. She’s my old lady.”
“I have your crow.” She argued.
Jax clenched his fists and moved closer, hovering over her now.
“Yeah? Well you’re not an old lady. You should have got it removed when you left.”
~
The clubhouse was quiet, and for the number of people inside it was unusual.
The moment Gemma had called you you had dropped everything and headed over.
You had known Jax was getting home from Stockton today, but you weren’t expecting him for another few hours and you weren’t expecting the bad news that came with him. Opie was gone.
Grief hung in the air and the whole atmosphere of the clubhouse had changed.
Your heart was in your throat as you moved, searching desperately around the familiar faces, searching only for one.
“He’s in his dorm, lass.” You heard from behind you.
You turned and saw Chibs, his head hung low and a haunting pain in his eyes.
You reached up and hugged him tightly. You hadn’t seen him since he’d gone inside and you weren’t sure if it was prison or the events that had occurred that made him seem older somehow, haunted. He hugged you back, his arms embracing you and you pressed a kiss to his cheek before letting him go.
Of course, all of them were hurting, but Jax was the only thing on your mind and you desperately needed to find him.
Chibs squeezed your hand and you headed to the dorms.
It was funny, how suddenly a place could feel different after something so tragic.
The hallway felt so.. empty. Eerie, almost. Like it knew something, or someone was missing.
Your feet carried you to Jax’s dorm and you didn’t bother knocking.
He was sitting on the floor, leaning against the bed and staring at the blank wall in front of him.
He didn’t look up when you entered but you ran to him and sank to your knees beside him before pulling him into you.
He didn’t need you to say anything, just you being there was enough and he began to sob uncontrollably into your chest.
You stroked his hair slowly, letting his tears soak through your shirt.
“He was my best friend.” Jax whispered against you, his voice broken and full of sadness.
“I know baby, I know.”

~
“Jax we can make this work, we can-“
“No!” He yelled.
Taras eyes widened and she stepped back from him.
“How dare you come here.” He snarled. His fists
clenched and he trembled with anger, both with Tara and himself.
He turned away from her and stood at the end of the end of the hospital bed. His hands grasped the bed frame tightly, making his knuckles burn.
Guilt ran through his veins as he looked at your broken body.
After a moment of silence Tara stepped forward and Jax felt her hand lay on his shoulder.
“I’m your first love, Jackson.”
Jax took a deep breath and clenched his jaw before he turned back towards her.
“Your right.”
She smiled with relief.
“You were my first love Tara. But she is my last. You are my past, and she is my future.”
Tara opened her mouth, unable to find the words. Her eyes brimmed with tears and she turned abruptly and left, letting the door close behind her.
Jax sighed and ran a hand over his face.
God, he felt sick with guilt and he couldn’t help but blame himself for what had happened to you.
He should never have let you leave, he should have chased after you. He should never had made you so mad to begin with.
For a moment he considered following Tara. Not to be with her, he had meant what he said. But seeing you lay in this hospital bed had him thinking if maybe you would be better off without him. You were a good woman, with a kind heart and he knew you deserved a love that Jax wasn’t sure he could give you.
He had no doubt in his mind that he loved you, with all he had left in the ashen remains of his heart. But he had always had doubts that he was good enough for you.
It was because of him that you had ended up in here after all. If it hadn’t been for him you would be fine, walking around and laughing like normal.
Jax walked to the edge of the bed and gently lifted your hand once more.
Your skin was soft and fragile and he sighed as he held it gently in his rough hands.
Maybe it was selfish of him, and maybe you deserved better. But he knew he couldn’t walk away, couldn’t let you go. You meant too much to him.
He lifted your hand to his lips and kissed your skin softly.
“Please wake up, (y/n). I need you.”
~
Jax slung his arm over your shoulder and you squeezed his waist.
His lips pressed against your hair as he kissed your head and you smiled up at him once he pulled away.
You had spent all day helping Gemma clean up the clubhouse after another wild party and despite having a godawful hangover it had actually been enjoyable.
Cleaning wasn’t your favourite pastime but you didn’t hate it either, and you liked spending time with Gemma.
She was terrifying, of course, in her usual Gemma Teller way but you both seemed to get along despite the fact you were dating her son.
And she was grateful for your help.
The croweaters had been there too to help but cleaning wasn’t exactly their specialty, especially when they were hung over.
Finally though, the boys had returned from their club business that had kept them away for most of the day and you were happy to see Jax walk back through the doors.
He led you outside for a well deserved break and you perched on the edge of the picnic table while he lit up a ciggarette.
“Thankyou for helping out today babe.” Jax said after blowing out a cloud of smoke.
“Anytime,” You smiled at him. “Although I’m kinda scarred after cleaning Tigs mess.”
Jax chuckled before taking another drag.
A car pulled into the lot and you both looked up.
Wendy got out of the drivers side and waved to you both before getting Abel out of his car seat.
“(Y/n)!” The little blonde yelled as soon as his feet hit the pavement.
Abel ran towards you and you hopped off the table and knelt with your arms open.
He ran into them and you smiled as you squeezed him tight.
You lifted him and held him on your hip and Jax pressed a kiss to his sons forehead.
“Can we play on the swings?” Abel asked eagerly.
“I guess so.” You sighed playfully before tickling him.
He giggled loudly and you smiled at Wendy once more before carrying Abel to the swing set.
“He’s been asking about (y/n) all week.” Wendy said.
Jax nodded, a proud smile on his face as he watched you playing with his son.
“So is she your old lady yet or what?”
He raised his eyebrows, an amused look on his face as he looked at his ex.
“You gonna give me relationship advice darlin?”
Wendy rolled her eyes.
“She’s a good girl, Jax. She’ll make a good old lady, better than I ever was.”
They both watched as you pushed Abel on the swing and his laughter echoed through the lot.
“Look all I’m saying is don’t screw things up with her. She’s good for you. She’s good for him.”

~
Three days had passed without any changes.
The doctors had said your condition seemed to be improving however you were still in a coma and Jax was growing more impatient with every passing day.
He had spent every minute by your bedside, only leaving to freshen up, but never for more than ten minutes.
The room was filled with balloons and the scent of fresh flowers, mainly from Gemma.
The guilt never left him and every minute you spent in this coma Jax seemed to blame himself more.
The nurses had told him to talk to you, that you could hear him.
At first he had been uncomfortable, unsure of what to say to someone who couldn’t answer back.
He’d started with apologies, before telling you about his plans for the club.
He’d just finished telling you a story about how the guys had hid a bunch of dolls in their rooms to stop Tig from snooping when he stopped talking mid sentence.
Your eyes had fluttered, he was sure of it.
“Babe? Come on wake up.”
You stirred, your eyes flickering open for a moment and your fingers twitched slightly.
A wide smiled spread over his face and he squeezed your hand gently.
Ever so slowly, the room began to focus around you.
You squinted your eyes, gradually taking in your surroundings before you focused on Jax, sitting teary eyed by your bed.
“You look like shit.” You told him, your voice slightly raspy.
Jax laughed lightly and a tear rolled down his cheek.
He didn’t doubt your words, he’d barely slept in three days.
“How are you feeling?” Jax asked.
“Like I’ve been hit by a truck.”
“Il get a nurse.”
“No, Jax wait. I-”
“I’m so sorry, (y/n).” Jax interrupted. “I should have told you. I don’t wanna lose you, darlin. You mean everything to me and I-”
“It’s okay Jax.” You told him.
He stopped and looked at you, the blues of his eyes sparkling with unshed tears.
His face was filled with guilt and you smiled softly.
“I love you, Jackson. And I trust you. It’s okay.”
Jax stood and hovered over the bed. His fingers reached oh and gently room hold of your chin.
He pressed his lips against yours softly, too scared of hurting you. You kissed him back and you didn’t notice the tear that escaped you and rolled down your cheek.
“Marry me.” Jax whispered as he pulled his lips away.
“What?!”
“Marry me.” He grinned. “I love you, (y/n). Almost losing you made me realise how much I need you. I want to spend my life with you. Marry me.”
You rated at him, your mouth slightly open.
“Yes,” you breathed. “Yes!”
You both grinned at each other, your eyes damp with tears of joy and this time when he kissed you you swore you could taste the rest of your life on his lips.
Minutes passed and eventually he pulled away and sat back in the chair, his hands holding yours softly.
“Jax?”
“Yes, mrs Teller?”
You grinned. “Is Tig really that scared of dolls?”

How Does Ni work?

This is how I experience Ni, and how I observed it in Ni users I know. 

Listening is hard
I will often stop listening because the subject made me think about something else (something more interesting), then this new idea will lead me to another one, then another… In a few seconds, I’ll be far away in my head and will sometimes say things that’ll look totally random. I can also get enthusiastic and jump to a new subject, middle-sentence, because I got a new (better) idea to talk about (which can be annoying to other people). And having to pay attention to uninteresting things is intellectually painful because I have to make the effort to not drift away in my mind.

Thinking about everything, all the time
Our thought process is not straightforward unless we’re working on it to be that way (with Te’s help, for example, to get something done). We’re not thinking about a few things: we’re thinking about everything at once. Picture a black hole: no idea can escape; we think them all. It might seem to other people that we only have good ideas, or that we can’t have many ideas, because we’ll express only the best of them. We can’t trust an idea unless we’re sure we can’t think a better one.

Paralysis
How do you know you made the best choice? How can you be sure your idea is the best? You can’t. You don’t know. This can get us stuck. Sometimes, we miss opportunities by hesitating too long. We have to rely on our other functions to move, to do something. And we have to trust ourselves. 

Hello, intensity, my old friend.
Ni is deep. Sometimes, a bit heavy. It makes us drawn to intellectual things, art with a great meaning, talking about what moves people (love, their interests, hard things they experienced, things that changed them…), books on various topics… I often won’t think someone is my friend if we don’t share something special. If you’re just a body to spend time with and have fun, that’s nice, but I won’t be your friend unless I’m sure I deeply know you.

Turn it off, please!
Ni is all about wisdom, blah blah… I wish I could turn my brain off sometimes. I try to, mostly through my inferior Se: eating, drinking, singing (I sing so much)… I’ll watch stupid movies to give myself a break and laugh about silly things. I often avoid so-called intelligent movies because most of them fail to both amaze me and amuse me. And I’ll almost never miss a chance at watching something creative or weird.

Creativity
Ni needs to find the best ideas, or the best plans. The way to get to that is through creativity. Sometimes, the perfect way to go is an old, overused one, and it’s ok. I won’t try something for the sake of it being new if there is a less fun but more intelligent way. Most Ni-people I know are into arts or writing, or both. Personal arts and writing projects give Ni all the freedom it needs to fully bloom and it feels so nice.

Dedication and precision for the right things
If something is not interesting, I can’t go on for a long time unless I think it’s worth the effort. I also noticed, from me and also from Ni-aux users, that for a thing to be considered as done, it doesn’t have to be flawlessly done if it’s not important (chores, meaningless work…) but some other things won’t be remotely okay to us unless they are perfectly done.

Humor
I’ve been told by many people I should think about pursuing a career as a stand-up comic, but many people also don’t get my jokes at all. My INTJ friends told me that they often get taken seriously when joking, and that people can’t tell when they’re being sarcastic (so they just look like they are pretty mean or especially stupid). Both of them amaze me with how they can push the smallest thing into the most epic long-lasting joke, making fun links between things. (And watch up for self-depreciating humor from INTJs. We love that.)

Strange memory
I absorb information all the time. Ni collects knowledge and, later, fishes out what is useful. Sometimes, I don’t even know how I know something. I just do - because I read about it years ago or because I made links from another bit of knowledge. I’m also the kind of person to forget whole days or conversations if they were not meaningful. I often refer to my memory as impressionist. I have many blurry memories from which I keep the overall feeling and no detail.

Jon x Female Reader

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Imagine Jon showing you his outstanding mouth skills in a private cave.

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\ Request from @ahryasthark /

As usual, wanting more smut… Anyways this idea popped into my head for Jon Snow. If you recall when Ygritte and Jon were in that caved and she asked how he knew to do that with his tongue? If you could write smut for that scene that’d be hella hot to see his first time in that cave with xreader…

♡ ♡ ♡ Warning: SMUT ♡ ♡ ♡

The brisk air softly brushed your naked body as you stood in a damp yet warm cave, slightly regretting your intrepid proposal.

Jon had been a fellow wildling for as little as 2 months, however, the sexual attraction between you both was undeniable.

The odd smile turned into flirty conversations, which eventually evolved into something further.

Jon wanted nothing more than to ravish every part of your body and soul but being raised by Ned Stark, he held an incredibly high respect for women. Therefore wouldn’t have shown his lust unless a lady displayed equal need or want.

Which is precisely what you were doing in that very moment.

The teasing looks had become vexatious. You wanted more then just a friendly side hug every once in a while. You needed Jon Snow to hold you with a passion that could ignite fires all around the seven kingdoms.

Perhaps that explains why you decided to be so impulsive. It wasn’t everyday you came across a location that possessed allurement, enchantment and irresistibility.

Yes, the north was very beautiful at times but never had you seen a more perfect landscape to execute your erotic dreams.

You had lured Jon into the glowing cave and easily seduced him by slowly removing every item of material that clung to your breath taking body.

Taking a second to study Jon’s amazed expression, you noticed how his eyes shined with adoration and love. This realisation boosted your confidence enough to begin.

“Having a connection as strong as ours is rare, Jon Snow. This rarity is the very thing that started our affair of the heart…”

As you spoke, you moved towards the star struck bastard. His eyes were wide whilst his blood rushed from excitement due to your close proximity.

“I’m going to ask one thing of you, my sweet nothing.”

You whispered in his ear…

“Make love to me.”

The second those words left your soft lips, Jon Snow had captured them with his own. He moulded his mouth to yours in a beautiful kiss of promising intimacy.

Sensually the boy ran his hands down your curves and gripped onto your hips before slowly lowering himself to the floor.

“What are you doing?” You asked as he knelt on the cold, stone ground.

“I just want to try something.” He said, the huskiness in his voice making you wet with anticipation. You could feel the nerves crawl through your skin as Snow left tingling kisses up your thigh.

“Jon…” you spoke quizzically before being cut off by his tongue trailing down your silky slit.

You moaned softly causing the bastard to pull back and admire your sultry expression. He parted your soft folds slowly so that he could place his lips in a circle on your clit before lightly sucking.

As he did this your knees became weak making you hold his shoulder with one hand whilst the other tugged lightly on his hair. Jon looked up at you, blind from desire as his tongue stroked your soft spot in small patterns.

The noises that escaped you were heavenly, such gorgeous sounds made the bastard want to do much more than taste you.

He took his middle finger and slowly slid it inside your virgin hole. No one but you had ever touched that sacred place before, so the new feeling sent shivers down your spine. 

Jon slowly wiggled his finger inside you, hitting your walls with enough pressure to make your eyes flutter shut. He then began thrusting that same finger in and out of you, deep but not too fast. He wanted you to feel every moment of pleasure…

After all, there was no rush.

Whilst his finger searched every inch of your tight pussy, he continued licking your clit with the occasional nibble. The sight of his mouth so intimately pleasuring you caused a wave of satisfaction to float over your body. 

“How is it?” Jon mumbled against you, vibrations lingering with his words.

You could do nothing but moan.

Jon felt his clothed manhood with his spare hand and slowly rubbed, aching for some relief as he became harder by the second. He was desperate to feel you wrapped around him, whether that was your mouth or pussy… He needed it.

As your moans became more frequent, the bastard decided to fuck you with two fingers in order to push you over the edge. He removed his lips from your clit and stood back up, roughly pushing his mouth to yours in a fiery kiss of lust.

Jon tried to slide another finger inside you; however, due to your unused hole, it caused a pang of pain to run down you. “Ow, Jon.” You whimpered and gasped earning a small chuckle. 

“You need some loosening up before i make love to you Y/N…” He spoke in a low, sexy tone, “My fingers are nothing compared to my cock.” 

Your eyes opened in shock of his bold words. Jon had never spoken about such things and as the words came out of his mouth, you knew your orgasm was drawing closer. 

“Jon, I want you inside me.” His groan to your proclamation was something that caught you by surprise as he continued to work you with just one finger. It was the most sexual noise you had ever heard and by far the hottest.

“Y/N… It will hurt-” 

“I don’t care.” You cut him off, “Pain is pleasure.”

Jon breathed a laugh at your antics. “Are you sure?” 

“Just fuck me.” You moaned whilst he wiggled his finger deep inside you.

Quickly removing his hand, he began undressing, never breaking the powerful eye contact you held, He smirked slightly before mumbling…

“You don’t have to tell me twice.”

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I am so sorry this has taken so long! I have a lot of explaining to do i know… Anyway, for now, i hope this was worth the longgggg wait! I love you all. I’m going to edit and add to this tomorrow !

anonymous asked:

What are you calling her queen for? Breastfeeding? Did you cal your mom queen for doing that too? Or any other women? Well I guess the fact that shes married to Jared puts her on pedestal...even when shes doing things that women deal with everyday without being worshipped or called "queen supermom" and so on.

You need to check your anger and pettiness, friend. 

Let’s be 100% honest here: you’re not mad that I tagged “queen” on a post about a woman breastfeeding, you’re mad because it was Genevieve Padalecki. You can try and hide behind the narrative that you’re angry on behalf of all women but that’s bullshit, because I have tagged other women as queen and never once received wank over it. So this? Is incredibly transparent. 

Gen being married to Jared is a cute “bonus” because I love their relationship and they’re adorable together. But don’t get it twisted: I love Gen because I’m a fan of Gen. Period. She’s a queen for normalizing things that are considered “abnormal” in this society, such as breastfeeding, or letting her sons wear nail polish and challenging gender stereotypes, etc. She’s a queen for being a wonderful mom, wife, and strong woman, a woman who knows that whatever she posts is going to be met by hate from people like you, and yet she still carries on and stays true to her. She’s a queen for standing by her convictions, for putting out positivity and kindness out into the world, for trying to make a difference. 

Me referring to one woman as queen does not equal me thinking all other women aren’t queens. The two are not mutually exclusive. Women are queens; it would only make sense that when I see one of my favorite women being her beautiful self, inside and out, and doing her thing that I refer to her as queen, too, right? Right. 

Since you wanted to make this a tad bit personal: my mom knows she’s a queen, and I remind her all of the time. I tell her that she is the strongest woman I know because she is. A woman who takes care of everyone around her despite the fact that she is disabled and has some physical limitations, including having to spend the rest of her life in pain every single day and yet, she never lets those things stop her, never gives up, and fights every day for everyone in my family. Watching her navigate through life after my dad died unexpectedly three months ago only proved to me even more how incredibly strong she is. She is a fucking queen. And yes, I make sure she knows it.

Whatever your issues are with Gen, it’s none of my fucking business. You want to live in a negative, hate-filled little black hole on social media, go for it. I feel sorry for you if that’s the case. The fact that I hardly ever receive anon hate, but I get a comment because I called Gen queen? Telling. But Gen has only ever shown how strong, kind, and wonderful she is. So whatever your problem is, look in the mirror and maybe you’ll find it within yourself instead of this woman that you have created a one-sided battle with. 

▹ pairing: Jeongguk x reader
▹ genre: smut [sub!jeongguk] just filth all around
▹ word count: 4,235
▹ a/n: thank you @bvngtvns​ for helping me think of an actual vague-ish storyline for this collection and for encouraging this smut-fest, and thank you @taequility​ for putting up with my disgusting ass + screaming about sub jjk with me ily

You decide to have a little fun with a remote controlled toy in class and Jeongguk will do anything for his relief.

Keep reading

Been waiting enough (if this is what you call love)

Summary: it’s as simple as a text, as simple as a party, if its supposed to get twisted, it will get twisted.

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

PT. 1 PT. 2 PT.3

warning: briefly mention of an assault but no biggie, still if you feel uncomfortable skip to the written part.

A/N: once again, I’m sorry for my grammar, English is not my first languague. I would really appreciate some feedback. 



Yoongi knocked on the door, his heartbeat louder to his ears than the sound his fist did against the wood. He was nervous. Two years is enough time to lose all the shyness and act normal in front of your other half, but it doesn’t work like that when it’s a distance relationship. Yoongi had seen her so many times on his computer screen. They talked many nights on the phone, but this time, he was going to see her face to face. To look into her eyes without screen pixels or interruptions. It was different; it felt strange when he saw her the first night. The door opened. She was standing there, with all her beauty, in an oversized hoodie that looked like the one he sent her. She looked beautiful, eternal. Yoongi wasn’t stupid. He knew his girlfriend was beautiful. He discovered that when she sent him the first selfie and after they had their first face time but this was different. Right in front of him, was standing another beauty. She looked stunning, nothing compared to how she looked on his phone screen. He wanted to say something. He also wanted to kiss her, but that was out of place right now. Yoongi opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to voice something. A simple hi or a hello, something, but the only thing that came out was a “you’re beautiful”. If he thought things couldn’t get worse for him, he was wrong. Y/N was beautiful but y/n with an amused smile and a slight blush on her cheeks was another level, a level he wasn’t ready to go through.
“I mean, hi” smooth Min Yoongi, no wonder everyone wants a piece of you.
“Hi” she chuckled, stepping inside, Yoongi took that as a cue and followed her. After all, she was the one who asked him to come over.
Once inside, Yoongi sat on the couch when she told him so. They didn’t say anything else. Y/n disappeared to the bathroom where she grabbed the first aid kit. She pulled closer the table and sat down in front of Yoongi.
He was about to speak when a hand was placed on his jaw, he turned his face inspecting his injuries. If y/n noticed the blush or heard his heartbeat, she didn’t say anything. Yoongi was wetting his lips when he heard her groan.
“Why did you have to do that” she sighed, wetting a piece of cotton in alcohol and dabbing at the small cut he had on his cheek. “I don’t need you saving my ass all the time”
Yoongi frowned “I’m sorry?” Was he apologizing for helping her? That was stupid. “I hate seeing you hurt” Yoongi gritted his teeth when the piece of cotton was pressed harder against his cheek. He wasn’t only talking about this morning assault, no, he was talking about his mistakes. He hurt the girl he loved and he hated himself for it.
There was a silence in the room while y/n finished cleaning the rest of the injuries. It wasn’t a comfortable silence, the tension between them was obvious.
“I’m sorry” Yoongi sighed when y/n pulled away “I’m so sorry for what I did. You didn’t deserve it and I know I shouldn’t be excusing myself but I was hurt” Yoongi looked down at his shoes, he needed new shoes, yep “I was so hurt I thought I would numb the pain by drinking. I wasn’t even interested in that girl. I guess I was just looking for you in her” He ran his hand through his hair, his shoulders slumping with every word.
“Did it work?” It was only a whisper, he wasn’t even sure he wasn’t imagining things but he wasn’t going to ask her to repeat, no. He didn’t wanna ruin it again.
“Honestly, no” he laughed bitterly “I found myself thinking about you. About how would it feel to kiss you like that or to have you in my arms. I was there, my body was there, but my mind was so far away” he rubbed his hands together as he looked up, afraid to see her face. “The truth is, when I saw you, I thought I was seeing things. I thought I drank so much that I reached the point of seeing things but when I saw your cry” he sighed “when I saw you cry and Namjoon running after you I realized I screwed up. I was so hurt I couldn’t make myself run after you and I hate myself for it. I hate myself so much because for a second I wanted you to feel my pain. I wanted you to feel the hole I felt inside when you broke up with me”
“I- I didn’t think it would be that bad” her voice sounded as broken as his, “I thought it would be a good idea. I thought you would be happy to see me and I would finally get to kiss you. I didn’t expect that Yoongi. I didn’t expect any of this to happen" She sighed, moving closer, taking his hand into hers, stopping him from tearing his skin apart.
“I know” he looked down at their hands. It was soft. Their hands fitted perfectly “I know. I’m sorry for ruining the surprise, when Namjoon explained everything I felt so bad. I didn’t want to accept it because it would hurt me more, so I blamed it on him. I’m really sorry”
Yoongi was a destructive person, he needed to feel the pain. He hated himself so much for ruining the only good thing he had in his life. He hated himself way more for the warm feeling he had inside every time her finger rubbed circles on his hand.
After a few more minutes of silence, she spoke again “I understand it you know?” Yoongi snapped his head so fast he almost broke his neck “I understand how you felt and why you did what you did so I don’t blame you” She nodded smiling at him. It was a soft smile, reassuring, but far away from the real smiles he got when they were facetiming and he pulled a stupid joke. Different from all the smiles he got when they were okay.
“I’ve been waiting for this moment for so long” Yoongi smiled “I wanted to have you here in my arms so I could kiss you and whisper sweet nothings into your ear. I wanted to show you galaxies and trace the universe in your body. I wanted you here so you could yell at me when I stopped taking care of myself, or just hug me and hold me when I was having a breakdown” Yoongi looked at her again “I had so many plans and so many ideas, none of those close to this reality” he sighed. Her eyes were watery but she smiled “Please show me your ideas. Take me on those dates you planned. Make me forget this one mistake. Remind me of why I love you and why I shouldn’t hate you” She moved closer, resting her head on his shoulders “Because I love you Min Yoongi, and you know that” She kissed his cheek, a small smile on her lips. This one looked a bit real, they still had a long way to go but they would walk together, hand in hand.
“So, when is our first date?” Yoongi smiled. He also planned a hundred of scenarios to that afternoon but none of them included his girlfriend asking him on a date. “Mm, do you think tonight is a good idea?” He smiled moving a little closer
“I think it can work but give me at least two hours to prepare myself” she smiled, resting her head on his chest as she wrapped her arm around his waist.
“Two hours?” He groaned. “What do you need so much time for?”
“I was planning on spending one hour cuddling you to make up for the lost time, but if you wanna be that way, then fine” she shrugged, teasing tone as she made an attempt to get up.
“No” Yoongi groaned securing his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer “if that’s the case you can take all night if you want”.


BONUS: gif that gave me the inspo for this part.

Originally posted by apgujeon

2

Prompt Credit: x


You’d holed yourself off in the cool darkness of a deserted pantry when it had started. The tile was cool against the flushed skin of your calves and toes. The darkness pressed against your eyes and ears in a comforting manner, making you feel safe. But also, unfortunately, highlighting the very things that had led to you trapping yourself in here in the first place.

Each thud of your heart felt like a dust against your chest. The muscles stretched above your heart to your sternum kept pinching and snarling their pain. You tried to hold your breath, thinking rather irrationally that if you slowed some of the movement the pain might cease. Drinking water hasn’t helped. Neither had lying down. Not really.

And holding your breath?

It only meant that you were no consciously aware that you were breathing. Having to focus on each pull of air into your lungs and mentally cursing that being so conscious of it was rather making the involuntary muscle movements all too voluntary. Each breath just wound your tension more. You couldn’t keep track of the number and what felt like an incredibly fast pulse trying to jump from your neck and chest. You felt like you ought to know though. Your body was screaming with terror, and it felt as if you might overload at any moment.

The floorboards outside the pantry creaked. You told yourself it was just the house settling. The footsteps? You were imagining hallucinatory monsters while in a highly suggestible state.The voices were harder to explain away.

There were only a limited number of people who could be in this house, and you wanted to explain to approximately none of them why you had hidden away in this currently unused storage space. Aside from a few bags of sugar and a container of salt, you were sure the only thing in this place before you shut off the light and closed the door were abandoned cobwebs and dust.

You really, truly hoped no one was so desperate for a cup of sugar they wouldn’t just go to the store on their own.

It wasn’t as if you could very well hide any more than you already were, but you shrank inward the little you could bringing trembling limbs tighter protectively. You pressed your cheek against the chill of the wall and hoped your heartbeat wasn’t as loud to them as it felt to you.

After a few moments, you realized you could discern at least two sets of voices. A Scottish woman’s and a man’s. You didn’t recognize either of them, and didn’t much want to think about what that meant.

“Obviously she’s a tad upset, that’s all. Are you sure you didn’t offend her?”

“Doctor, how would I offend a ship?”

The woman’s voice was further away now, more muffled and indistinct.

“You’d be surprised,” came a mutter far too close for your comfort. Then, worse, came the twist of a doorknob as you pressed yourself against the wall adjacent to the door. Whatever reason these people had for breaking in, you didn’t think they’d be pleased by a witness.

Because you were you, and your luck has always been frankly awful when it matters most, this wasn’t very successful.

“Well hello!” The man exclaimed after he flicked on the light. “This is a surprise!” 

He sounded quite happy, going by the speed of his chatter and the brilliant smile.

 “Have you been in here long? It’s a nice cupboard, bit empty. I’d say you’d do better with some biscuits and a few pillows but - oh! Or is this Sardines? Well, count me in!”

That said, he shut the door firmly once more, his right hand moving to the light switch before pausing with a frown. Sadly, he left the light still on.

You could see him better now though. Tweed jacket, bow tie, and long skinny legs to match. You weren’t sure if you wanted to get a good look at his face or not, but you’d shut your eyes tight against the sudden intrusion of light regardless. His rectangular face was topped with a dark swoop of hair that was clearly as much of a statement as his choice in wardrobe. The chipper attitude kept you balancing the fine line of unease and tentative hope that today wasn’t really going to cause even more problems. He seemed friendly. But the housebreaking implied he may very well just be a friendly psychopath.

The diversion he posed was not enough to break the aching weight that piled on your lungs like sandbags. It didn’t stop the stabbing, dry pain that was still attacking your rib cage. You rubbed at your chest with the heel of a palm as discretely as you could, attempting to deepen each breath by finishing it with your mouth instead of your nose. He wasn’t brandishing a weapon about, so you were tentatively hoping he wasn’t planning on killing you.

You only had to wait an annoyingly painful breath or two before you felt the man’s gaze on you rather than your surroundings.

“I’m going to take a wild guess and say you aren’t playing Sardines,” the man said companionably. “Did we scare you? No. No that can’t be it, you’d been in here a while before we arrived, hadn’t you?”

You found yourself nodding your agreement, not entirely sure why you were being honest. Except… that voice from earlier. It had called the person this voice belonged to ‘doctor’. Hadn’t it?

“Are you really a doctor?”

The man sat next to you, smiling brightly as if you were best friends.

“Better. I’m the Doctor,” he told you. 

You weren’t sure if he was cocky or charming.“Do you… do you often break into people’s homes? That’s not part of any residency program I know of. Most would say it’s illegal.”

Your words were accusing, but coated over with a mild sort of politeness that formed from a mixture of respect for medical professions and simple awareness that this man could be dangerously insane.

“Oh that, well I’ve never been big on normal anyway,” the man was terribly sunny. “Although, strictly speaking, didn’t exactly plan this.” His face contorted in a grimace. “I was trying to take my friend home for a surprise visit. We seem to have gotten it a bit wrong.”

That explained the clothes, you supposed.

Apparently, you’d said that out loud, because he practically squawked. “What’s wrong with my clothes?”

Nothing. You assured him. They were perfectly professional. A bit outdated in style, perhaps, but you supposed anyone would get tired wearing scrubs and white coats all the time.

He swirled around to face you, pulling a small cylindrical device that lit up and buzzed as he moved it through the air.

You discarded the obvious question of 'what in the Lord’s name is that’ and instead asked through a tight jaw, “What does that tell you, then?”

The man, the doctor, looked to his whirring device then back to you. He peered at your eyes in concern then slowly reached a hand out towards you. Just as slowly, he took one of your wrists.You stared at his pale fingers, ghostlike against your wrist, and abruptly realized he was taking your pulse.

“What has you so scared?” He breathed.

You tried to give him your best challenging look. What sort of question was that, anyway? Particularly from a housebreaker?

“I’m going to ask you a few questions, but while I do, I want you to take some deep breaths for me, can you do that?”

For some stupid reason or habit, you answered honestly.

“Breathing isn’t my favorite thing just now,” you confided with a bit of a grimace.

He squeezed your wrist lightly and stared into your eyes earnestly.

“Do it anyway. Just trust me. I need you to trust me.”

“Because you’re a doctor and you make people better?”

Why not? You thought. If he was a doctor, maybe he could make the pounding and stabbing and.. all of it just stop. Go back to normal.

“Exactly. Inhale, nice and deep." You obliged. After a few moments, he squeezed your wrist again, "And exhale.”

He did this a few more times before finally asking his questions.

“What’s your name?”

You told him, although your breath got a little stuck on it. He didn’t seem disturbed, and only encouraged you more.

“Y/N, what are five things you can see?”

Unlike the first, this question was odd under the best of circumstances, and you gave him a look that told him so. When you didn’t immediately answer, the doctor asked again after a moment.

“Chalk,” you started, still doubtful, but aware of the dusty stains on your fingers from when you’d been playing with your younger siblings and cousins earlier that day. Before you’d come over here to house sit and feed fish that the owners were convinced could possibly get lonely. “Broken spiderwebs.” You weren’t being paid to clean. No way were you inviting that sort of thing to be taken for granted either. “My jacket in the corner. Your bow tie. And your eyes.” You looked at him thoughtfully. “Are you an ER doctor?”

“It’s still my turn to ask the questions, Y/N.” He smiled again and booped you on the nose. “What about four things you can feel?”

“Mild irritation?” You offered, raising an eyebrow when he shook his head.

“No. Not feel with your emotions. Your physical sense of touch. Four things you can perceive through touch.”

“Your hand on my wrist,” you replied after a moment, rubbing your chest again thoughtfully. “Not as overpoweringly warm as I’d have feared. The floor. A slight air through the house from the vents. My shirt.”

He nodded approvingly.

“Good, good. And I do work a lot with emergency cases, not always in one room though. What are three things you can hear?”

That didn’t explain anything, but you figured it was a yes. It would explain his take charge attitude and the look in his eyes.

“Your voice. Your friend running down the stairs. And the fan in the next room over.”

“Very good. Can you tell me two things that you can smell?”

You frowned, having to work harder on this one.

“Dust, I suppose. The kind of musty smell from disuse, you know? The people who live here don’t use this much.” Who’d have guessed? You felt rather embarrassed for saying something so obvious, but he appeared to find it interesting enough. At least, there wasn’t a glimmer of ‘what an idiot’ visible on his face. “And.. a perfume, maybe? It’s faint on you, but I suppose your friend wears it?”

“Ah, yes. She does that. Rassilon knows why. Last question for now. What’s one thing you can taste?”

At first you’d opened your mouth to say you couldn’t very well taste anything. Your mouth was so dry you barely had spit. Before realizing that actually wasn’t the case at all. And you could taste a slight flavor in the air. 

More than just the acrid taste of leftover fear or salt from your skin.

“Is that… bananas?”

“Always take bananas to a party.” He winked at you and brandished a banana in his free hand. Then he offered it to you and released your wrist, surprising you as you realized you’d been breathing just fine on your own. Were still breathing fine. At some point, the agony had stopped.

“But there’s no party here,” you asked doubtfully, hesitantly accepting the mysterious banana.

He just shrugged.“The human race loves parties. I’m sure we’ll find one soon enough. Want to come along?”

You looked down at your outfit then back to him and tried to open your mouth as he opened the door and called for his friend. Who was apparently named Amy.

“What was all that? What happened to me? How did you stop it?" You shook your head, trying to make sense of it all. "It felt like I was dying. Like… like I was the Energizer Bunny on speed in its death throes.”

The doctor gave you an 'ah’ of comprehension.

“Sometimes your brain will send an adrenaline surge through your body and activate your fight or flight responses. And presto, anxiety attack. All better now though. So, what do you say to that party? You already have a banana, why not go all the way?" 

His friend, who was apparently a woman just as pale but with bright red hair, skipped up to him wearing nothing but striped pyjamas.

“I love parties! But we’ll need a change of clothes, Doctor.”

“Right you are, best get that sorted out. Come on, Y/N!” The man winked at you. “Geronimo!”

2

Thank you for changing my life, for making who I am today a better person! Thank you for taking me out of the hole when I needed you most, with your songs and your affection! Thank you for making me like good things, for positivity and love, I know that we ourselves make our way, but when there is someone like you to influence us is a magic thing … I never had the chance to meet you, but our Souls yes, in my dreams.

You were not only the ‘King of POP’ but a person, a human like all of us, with their pains, sufferings and fears. I do not know where all those people who lived around you were saying “YOU ARE NOT ALONE, WE LOVE YOU” but now you are in peace, but know you have never been and never will Being alone we love you and we miss you so much!

August 29th, 1958. Happy Birthday, Michael Jackson ♡  Forever and Always in our hearts.

Bucky: Tony got stung by a jellyfish. 

Tony: Alright, alright. I got stung. I got stung bad. I couldn’t stand. I couldn’t walk. 

Steve: We were two miles from the house. We were scared and alone. We didn’t think we could make it. 

Tony: I was in too much pain. 

Bucky: And I was tired from digging a huge hole! 

Steve: And then Bucky remembered something… 

Bucky: I’d seen this thing on the Discovery Channel. 

Bruce: Wait a minute, I saw that, on the Discovery Channel. About jellyfish, and how if you… Eww! You peed on yourself? 

Natasha, Rhodey: Eww! 

Tony: You can’t say that! You don’t know! I thought I was going to pass out from the pain. Anyway, I tried, but I couldn’t bend that way. So… 

Clint, Bruce, Rhodey: Eww! 

Bucky: Yeah that’s right. I stepped up! He’s my friend and he needed help. And if I have to I’d pee on any one of you. Only, I couldn’t… I got the stage fright. I wanted to help, but there was just too much pressure. So, so I turned to Steve. 

Steve: [moan] Buck kept screaming at me. Do it now, do it, do it, do it, do it now! Sometimes late at night I can still hear the screaming. 

Bucky: That’s cause sometimes I scream it through my wall just to freak you out. 

Rhodey: Maybe there’s someone you can talk to. 

Tony: Yeah like who? There’s no group for people like us. 

Tell Me You Love Me

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Word Count: 1,853

Warnings: Swearing. Angst. I made myself cry writing this so be prepared.

Summary: After breaking up with the love of his life, and three weeks of hardly getting any sleep, Peter ends up going to the one place he knows he shouldn’t be. Your place. But then you and he have a long talk accompanied by tears and heartbreak that ends optimistically.

Requested:(I know you just got a song request, but could you do an imagine based on Tell Me You Love Me by Demi Lovato? Where Peter and the reader broke up and either the reader or Peter want them back? Or something along those lines) by: a very sweet anon

A/N: It’s done! Finally. Hope you all enjoy! I’m actually really excited to post this. Please let me know if you liked it:)


Originally posted by sddonald22

Three weeks.

Three incredibly long weeks.

That’s how long it had been since Peter had broken up with you. And he hated it. He hated to break up with you. To see the heartbreak carved into your face when he told you ‘I can’t do this anymore.’ The sobs that made your body shake as you begged him to ‘think about this’ and ‘we can work this out! Whatever I did, I’m sorry!’.

It tore him up inside to do that to you, but he felt like it was the only thing that he could do to keep you safe. And as much as it hurt to see you in pain and not be his side, he knew he did the right thing.

But he couldn’t stop thinking about being with you. About being allowed to hug you. To have your hand in his. To have dates where you marathoned Harry Potter and Star Wars. He missed you.  It felt like half his soul was gone.

But still, he stayed away.  He avoided you at all costs, and in the beginning, when you’d try to talk to him about it, he’d turn around and run in the opposite direction.  Because he knew that if he talked to you, he’d apologize and beg you to take him back.

After a couple weeks though, you stopped trying to talk to him, and he saw you smiling more and acting like your usual self. Which was good, he thought, you’re moving on.

But Peter got worse as the days went on.  He hardly slept, which made him reckless and sloppy when patrolling. He started staying out later getting maybe two hours of sleep before going to school. He was trying to distract himself from reality. And, after a week of hardly sleeping- hardly living- it finally bites him in the ass.


Keep reading

Back to school tips!

Originally posted by omoizakkashop

it’s finally back to school time for most of us, and it’s also time to start good habits (привычки), crack down (сломить) on the bad ones, and just begin to prepare for the year ahead (впереди). i’ve compiled (собрать) some simple tips that help me in day to day life (повседневная жизнь) that i would love to share. so let’s get cracking (принимаемся за дело):

  1. prepare and eat a breakfast. if it’s easier for you, think about preparing your food the night before and packing it in bags or tupperware (пластиковй контейнер).
  2. have a bedtime routine. it can help you stay organized and, two, it helps put you to sleep. the more your brain associates doing certain tasks with sleep, the faster you’ll be able to drift off (заснуть)
  3. make a study group. find friends and people in your classes that you would like to study with and meet up (встретиться)! it’ll be more fun than holing yourself up in your room (запираться в комнате). also, explaining concepts to others will help you better understand them and answer those questions on your tests.
  4. make a weekly to-do list. it’s important to make to-do lists of goals and tasks (задачи) you need to complete. 
  5. have a ‘school survival kit’ ( “набор для выживания”) i like to have a little bag with me that has things i may need that i could have forgotten. this includes a pen, pencil, highlighter, a few pads (прокладки), some mints, pain medicine, allergy medicine, tissues, band-aids (лейкопластырь), hand sanitizer (антисептик для рук), stain remover (пятновыводитель), and other such items.

(adapted from this post by @the-sapphic-desk! Thank you so much for letting us use your post)

habit привычка
to crack down сломить
ahead впереди
to compile собрать
day to day life повседневная жизнь
get cracking приняться за дело
tupperware пластиковые контейнеры
to drift off заснуть
to meet up встретиться
to hole up запираться, спрятаться
survival kit набор для выживания
pads прокладки
band-aid лейкопластырь
hand sanitiser антисептик для рук
stain remover пятновыводитель

PART OF OUR STUDY MONTH

Stay Alive

Now with an author’s note! 

I

She barely sleeps now. 

She has reasons for it, good ones-there are meetings almost every day now, Jon seems to get back later and later from his raids, and the baby has trouble through the night. She likes to stay up and wait until he returns, sometimes scraped and banged up from his fights, sometimes with far fewer men than he’d left with. It gives her some semblance of control. When she’s awake, she can’t lose him. 

In fact she can barely sleep sometimes unless she’s next to him, safe in the circle of his arms, his breath ruffling the hair on the back of her neck. She clings to the nights and shies away from the morning because each day is new, uncertain, and dangerous. 

Brandon Stark seems to think she’s Azor Ahai. She didn’t know much about the old prophecies-she’s never really believed in any kind of destiny she couldn’t prove-but she’s read enough stories about heroes to know that it required sacrifice. She can’t imagine that she’ll walk out of this unscathed. But she’s already lost so much-her soldiers, her allies, Viserion, even Dragonstone which had finally started to feel like a home. She can’t lose anything else. 

She waits for Jon now, looking out the window at the slowly cascading snow, holding their child on her lap. Rhaelle is a good baby most of the time; she sleeps happily cuddled into her mother’s arms. Dany brushes a strand of hair out of her eyes-already a shock of blonde, like her own. A true Targaryen. She sets her gently back in her cradle; the baby stirs once and then settles back into sleep.

The horses materialize out of the gusting snow, one by one. They’re all tired and their riders half fall to the ground as the servants rush to help them off. She runs to meet them in the entrance hall, throwing herself into Jon’s arms without caring who’s looking. He smells of pine leaves and the sharp stink of fire. “What happened? How did it go?”

He pulls her closer, burying his face in the top of her head. His voice is low and defeated; she almost doesn’t hear it. “Moletown is destroyed.” 

Another loss then. These days it seems they’ve had more losses than victories.

II

Rhaegal is injured on the next raid. She’s not there so she doesn’t see it firsthand, but she feels his pain almost as a physical thing. She’s already there when he comes back, helped along by Drogon. A spear of ice sticks out of his wing, like the one that killed his brother. 

When they take it out, there’s still a massive hole in his wing. She makes him stay at Winterfell and heal, visiting him three times a day to bring him fresh meat. 

That raid is also a defeat. 

Tyrion tears up their old battle plans, decides they need a new strategy. Tormund leads a group of wildlings in a surprise attack; only four of them survive. Bran says the Night King may be a greenseer, the same way he is-that would explain why no matter what they do the enemy always seems to be one step ahead. 

That night she has the first dream, of a castle far to the north. It’s carved entirely out of ice, smooth as glass and cold to the touch, alone in a harsh and unforgiving landscape. She dreams of wandering long quiet hallways, alone except for the rush of wind in her ears. 

She’s still cold when she wakes up, even though a fire burns merrily in the fireplace and they’re sleeping under three separate furs. She doesn’t tell Jon; she doesn’t need to worry him anymore than he already is. 

III

He barely eats now and when he sleeps it’s hard to rouse him. He still smiles whenever he sees her but his eyes are tired and sad. 

She doesn’t know who will kill him first-the Night King or himself. 

She does what she can to ease his burdens-she makes sure all of the plans are in order, helps the sick, dispatches soldiers, and even leads a few raids of her own from atop Drogon’s back. But there’s only so much she can do. 

The dreams come every night, always of the same castle. 

She wishes sometimes that her husband was selfish and not quite so noble and self sacrificing. She wishes she didn’t have to share him with the rest of the world and he could stop preparing to die at any moment, kissing her like it might be the last time he ever does. But that’s not who he is. He’s not one to sit back while others are in danger and neither does she. 

One night he has a nightmare and wakes up covered in sweat. 

“What is it?” She moves closer to him instinctively, touching the side of his face. Her fingers come away wet. 

He doesn’t say anything for a moment. He tries to compose himself, breathing harshly. “Just a dream.”

She knows that’s not all of it but she kisses him anyway. “Just a dream. You’re safe here.” For now. 

No. She shrugs off the fear. She’ll do whatever it takes to save him and their children. 

No matter what happens, she won’t lose him. 

Eventually he falls asleep again, but she lies awake for the rest of the night afraid that if she goes to sleep she’ll lose him. He gives and gives and gives with no regard for himself, with no thought for how much it would destroy the people he loves should he die. 

IV

The arrow is a surprise. She doesn’t even see it until it embeds itself in her side and there’s a sharp, stabbing pain below her rib cage. 

She must have screamed; how else does she end up in the snow with everyone surrounding her? Drogon makes short work of the rest of the wights and then Jon is picking her up and putting her back on his back, giving the dragon instructions to take her back to Winterfell in broken Valyrian. Someone-Tormund, she thinks-has the suggestion to tie her to the dragon’s back, just in case she falls off.

Jon’s face is the last thing she sees before the darkness overtakes her. It’s shattered. 

*

The next week or so is a mess of half realized dreams and snippets of reality that she’s barely conscious of. She’s in a clean white bed, people whisper above her bedside-and she’s walking, out of Winterfell’s front doors, across icy fields and dark plains, but she’s only wearing a light cloak and she doesn’t feel the cold. 

Is this what it feels like to die? 

Awareness comes slowly, in bits and pieces. Once she surfaces to see Arya sitting by her bedside, swinging her sword in increasingly complicated patterns and muttering under her breath. Another time Sansa tries to feed her a thick broth that spills down the front of her nightdress. She tries to sit up but the pain sends her spasming back into unconsciousness. 

Sometimes Jon’s voice wends through her consciousness, encouraging her to come back, that they need her. She uses it like an anchor, pulling herself out of the darkness of her mind, pulling her away from the castle. 

When she opens her eyes and sees him for the first time since the accident he hugs her so hard she can’t breathe. “I thought I’d lost you,” he whispers, and she hears the way his voice trembles. It makes her feel guilty for hurting him. 

“How long was I asleep?”

“Two weeks.”

She struggles to sit up because that’s far too long, surely something terrible must have happened in that time. “Where is the Night King’s army?”

“Dany, don’t tear your stitches-”

“Where are they, Jon?”

He sighs, eyes closing and shoulders slumping. “They’re nearly halfway to Winterfell.”

V

She starts sleepwalking. 

At first it’s little things; she’ll wake up on the chaise lounge on the other side of the room with no memory of how she got there. And then she finds herself in other rooms, always asleep in front of a window looking out at the moonlit night. 

One night she almost walks right out of the castle, until two guards catch her and wake her up. 

By this point Jon is beside himself with worry because they know that whatever’s happening isn’t supposed to be. So one night she takes him aside and tells him about the dreams, how sometimes her breath fogs in the air when she wakes up even though a fire roars high in the grate. 

“They’re calling to me, Jon. They want me.” Just giving voice to it makes her heart rate speed up because try as she might to be calm and collected she’s not. She’s so frightened because she has no idea how she can fix things, how things will end in anything other than disaster unless she does the unthinkable. 

“They won’t get you.” He holds her tightly, as if by sheer force of will he can keep her beside him. “I won’t let them.” His voice trembles with what’s either fear or love, she can’t tell. Maybe both. “We’ll fight as hard as we can.”

“It won’t be enough.”

“We don’t have another choice.”

She doesn’t even want to bring it up but she knows she has to; it hangs in the air between them like the spectre of death. “But if we could trade-”

“No.” His voice brokers no room for argument. “I won’t do that.”

“It’s not you they want.” 

He holds her tighter as if that can save them. “There’s another way. There has to be.”

They both know that there isn’t.

VI

She would recognize her child’s cry anywhere. 

It jolts her out of another nightmare and she runs to the window, almost tripping over the rug in her hurry. Jon is right behind her-

-and they both watch as the ice dragon flies over Winterfell. No. 

But Viserion-if he can still be called that anymore-is gone, already soaring back over the forest and fading into the distance. She feels a hole open in her stomach, losing him yet again. He still looks so hurt, with holes in his wings and frozen blood still painting his scales. He’s not hers anymore. 

Another failure. 

She doesn’t cry; she just stays there until dawn, staring into space, while Jon stays by her side and does what he can to keep things from falling apart. 

VII

She’s under constant watch from her Guard now. For her own protection. 

She doesn’t know how long they can save her. 

One night she goes to see Bran Stark, and he confirms her worst fears-if she goes with them, fire and ice, then they’ll retreat North of the Wall again. There won’t be a battle. There won’t be a slaughter. Jon and Rhaelle will live in peace. 

They’ll kill Viserion. For real, this time. So he can be at peace. 

Hasn’t she always said she’d do anything for her people? So why is it that now she knows what she has to do she can’t force herself to do it? Why can’t she think of leaving Jon, of betraying him even as she saves his life? 

She doesn’t leave her room because she’s always so cold. She huddles under her covers or in front of the fire. Sometimes someone will sit with her because she hates being alone with the stress and the pressure not to do anything at all.

She always likes it when Arya talks to her. Arya seems to be the only one who’s not too panicked to do anything else. 

“So Jon wasn’t lying, was he?” Arya says the first time that she sees her, looking into the flames, covered into as many skins as she can stomach. “They’re calling you.” 

Dany nods. “I don’t know how much longer I can hold out…” She doesn’t feel like she needs to hide things around Arya, hide how intense the call can sometimes be, hide how selfish she feels every moment she sits inside. 

“Then don’t.”

It feels like a sweet relief, even as it ties her stomach in knots. “But Jon-”

“He’ll be upset…but he’ll come around. He loves you-and he knows that your duty is to your people.”Arya’s voice has softened, as if she knows how hard this is, what an impossible choice it is to make. “You have to do what you think is right. Don’t wait for him. Don’t wait for any of us.”

“I don’t want to lose him-or any of you. If there’s a massacre…if people die, their blood is on my hands.” And she doesn’t want to be responsible for the deaths of any more innocents. 

“I won’t tell you what to do. We’re Northerners. We’re used to fighting.”

“But this is a fight you can’t win.”

“There’s no dishonor in a death for a cause you believe in. If this isn’t important…what is?”  

“But aren’t you afraid of death?”

Arya shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. Everything else is up to chance…but death isn’t. It’s final. Whatever you think happens afterwards, death is an ending. A release.” 

“…You’ll look after him, won’t you?”

“Always.” 

VIII

Jon takes the news as well as she expected him to. Which is to say he doesn’t. 

“You can’t.”

“And why not?” 

“There’s no need to. We’ll fight-”

“How many will die? Thousands. Millions, maybe. And all that death…all that suffering could be avoided. I’m tired of having their blood on my hands, on my heart. What is one life for the sake of many?”

“Don’t say that.” There’s a note of warning in his voice now, like he’s so angry he’s just barely keeping it together. “Never say that.” 

“I know you would do anything for the sake of our people. So would I. And I have to do this, Jon. I have to make this sacrifice, so at least they have a chance. So their children won’t grow up orphans.” 

“But ours will.”

She raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

He won’t look at her. “You can’t honestly think that I would let you face them alone, do you?” 

She feels sick now. “Jon, you can’t.” 

“The decision isn’t yours to make, just like it’s not mine to make yours. If I can’t persuade you to stay, then I will follow you to whatever comes next.”

She’s filled with love for him-this reckless, stupid man who she would do anything for and would do anything for her. “Rhaelle needs you.”

“Rhaelle will be surrounded by people who care about her-Sansa, Arya, Gendry, Tyrion…she’ll know what her parents did. She’ll know what they died for. She doesn’t need me. You do.”

“But the throne-”

“Damn the throne.” The intensity in his voice surprises her. “Damn it all. I’ve never wanted it. You know that.” 

Tyrion’s words echo back to her. “But if we both die, who’s left to rule the kingdoms in our stead? How do we protect what we’ve worked so hard to build?” He doesn’t say anything. “I know you never wanted the throne…but you have to take it. There’s no one else who can.” 

She takes a step closer to him, hoping that he knows that she hates this just as much as she does. “You told me that I was your queen. You told me you swore me your alliance, your love, from this day until the end of your days. I need you to do this for me, Jon. I command you to stay. I command you to raise Rhaelle and watch her grow. I command you to be the king that the Seven Kingdoms need.” 

His face is so blank it hurts to look at. “If you do this, I’ll never forgive you.” He walks away like it hurts him to look at her. 

She sags against the wall, the only thing holding her up. It takes all the control she has not to start sobbing. 

IX

For the next few days she avoids him. She knows what she has to do, and she suspects that he knows it too. 

Instead she packs. Arya gives her a knapsack made of a light, supple leather-it melds to her back as if it was made for it and it allows her to move freely. She packs a few extra outfits, a couple of furs, the direwolf pin that Jon gave her on the night they married. And she brings a knife, small and sharp and able to hang in easy reach at her belt. 

What should she pack if she’s going to her death? 

The dreams are more intense now; sometimes she still wakes up freezing and has to lie in front of the fireplace for hours before the cold leaves her bones. It never seems to leave her soul. 

And then, finally, she’s ready. She tells Tyrion what she means to do first; he doesn’t take it well but she thinks that in some way he understands why she has to do it. 

She takes a final walk around the castle that’s started to feel like home-through the crypts, the ramparts and alcoves where she and Jon sometimes kissed passionately when they were alone, the courtyard where he taught her to spar. It’s filled with people now-what meagre forces they’ve managed to muster, who will be destroyed by the wights the second they arrive. 

She’s in the godswood, praying to Jon’s gods for strength, when he finds her. 

He steals to her side, silent as a shadow, and embraces her. He holds her so tightly that she can barely breathe and she hugs him back just as hard, trying to memorize everything about him-how his stubble tickles the top of her head, how his heart beats strong and steady. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m so sorry.”

“I’m sorry too.” 

They don’t say anything else. There are no other explanations, no apologies. There’s not time for them. They’ve already said everything they need to say, before every battle that felt like the last one. 

Instead they stand in the godswood as a new snow falls around them, like the snow that fell when they were married-but all of the happiness she felt that night is gone, replaced by a cold hollowness that she feels she’ll never fill. 

But she reminds herself that she’s doing it for him, for all of them. 

But mostly for him and Rhaelle. 

~

She slips out of the castle late that night, long after he’s asleep. Maybe it’s cowardly, not saying goodbye to him one last time. But she thinks that if she did that she wouldn’t leave at all. She’d stay by his side and wait for the dawn-and there will be no more dawns for her. Not now. 

She stops by Rhaelle’s room and kisses her sweet, sweet baby on the forehead, gives her a stuffed dragon hand sewn by Sansa. She said her goodbyes to the Lady of Winterfell earlier. 

Arya shows her out into the night and embraces her briefly, fiercely, before she can go find the dragons. “Thank you for returning him to us,” she whispers. 

“Keep him safe for me. Keep them all safe.” 

Drogon goes unbidden, flying north like an arrow. She wants to look back at Winterfell once before she goes but she doesn’t, even when the tears blur her eyes. If I look back then I am lost. “I’m sorry,” she whispers, her voice taken away by the wind. “I’m so sorry.” 

She’s not afraid of dying. But she’s afraid of what comes next, afraid she’ll never see any of them again. She’s so afraid. 

But this is what queens do. This is her sacrifice. She’s gone too far to turn back now. 

~

Drogon returns riderless, keening, late the next morning. And something inside Jon’s heart shatters. 

X

There’s a story the children tell now, about a queen with hair like winter who went to the far north and never returned. She rules over a palace of ice and snow now, and she can’t leave until the last of magic is gone from the world. Her king rules beside her. It’s said that he ruled the iron throne at one point, until his daughter was old enough to rule in his stead and he returned to his true love. Now they rule together, in a castle by a sea of ice, finally together.

So you’re all like ‘Sophia, where did this come from?’ So there were a couple of prompts that I got-one on Dany being Azor Ahai and reminiscing on sacrificing from an anon and another from @hales2007 on Dany not planning on losing any more children and on the legend of the Night King and Queen from the ASOIAF books. And then it just kind of formed into this idea. 

Sorry it kind of got out of hand. But are we honestly surprised anymore? 

if i could hold onto you forever, i would. maybe it’s selfish of me to think that but i just know that we were meant to be. things have been rough for us lately and i hate how everything went down. please do not for a second think that i don’t love you or care for you because i do. you are my everything and that will hold true for an eternity. i’m sorry i failed to realise this sooner, but we will always be better together than apart. you were the light in my life and the only thing that made me truly happy. i can’t express how much pain i’m going through knowing that we aren’t together. my life feels so empty without you, it’s like there’s a hole in my heart that only you can fill. you make me complete and now that we’ve parted ways, i’ve been broken into bits and pieces. with every minute that passes by, my sanity slips away more and more. this isn’t how things were supposed to happen. we were meant to reach our happy ending together. what we have is something so special, something that no person could ever imagine. you will always be my one dream come true and i just want to hold you in my arms once more. you’re my entire world and i’m so damn sorry i let you go. i’m here now and will do anything to have you back with me where you belong. i love you with everything i have. please know that you will always have my heart no matter what happens. there is nobody else in this world that could compare to you, there is nobody else i want. it’s only you and that’s how it’s always been. i won’t ever stop loving you and i never want to.
—  Letters you’ll never receive #6 // S.T.

anonymous asked:

how would the RFA + V and Saeran go about breaking up with MC? Maybe because they're tired or because the fiery passion that led to their relationship in the first place died down?

I had an urge to write angst and this has been sat in my inbox since November sorrrrrrry so here you go


Yooung

  • He would need to really be at the end of his tether, his attachment issues are pretty dominant in his life
  • It’s also because of this that he would avoid broaching the subject with you
  • Even if he didn’t love you anymore, he would still be so worried about hurting you
  • His best way of avoiding the situation and you is by engulfing himself in LOLOL, or if he’s really desperate, college work
  • You would notice how distant he’s getting, and you would get a potentially familiar sinking feeling
  • You knew
  • There was no way you couldn’t know
  • It would reach the point where you track him down to talk to him, and everything he’s bottled up would just spill out
  • Throughout the whole relationship he was most likely the one to be clingy the majority of the time
  • So for it to be him to call things off, it will hurt in a way you honestly never expected
  • He’ll cry his eyes out as he says it’s over
  • Meetings, gatherings and parties with the RFA will always be awkward for you both, because even months or years after, Yoosung will feel guilty about being the one to give up on things
  • He’ll always go the extra mile to make sure you are ok, and it will always give you false hope that maybe he wants to rikindle things
  • He wants you to be ok, but he doesn’t want you

Zen

  • He probably hasn’t even realised himself he isn’t entirely happy in the relationship anymore
  • Zen was more desperate than Yoosung for a significant other, and it just wouldn’t occur to him that things might not work out with you
  • It would build for a while, little by little,
  • Until finally one day in the midst of a petty argument over nothing, he would suddenly blurt out that he doesn’t want to be with you anymore
  • It catches you both off guard, and even if he doesn’t entirely mean it, he’s stubborn enough to follow through with the decision
  • He won’t cry in your presence, but you can damn well bet he does once he’s alone
  • It’s a complete toss up between who is most upset about the breakup as it came as a surprise for both of you
  • Even though things hadn’t been great between you, neither of you imagine it would get to this place
  • For the first time in months, you both start to appreciate what you had a little more
  • 110% the kind of ex who is always just kind of around
  • It would be a little tense at first, but you would fall into a level of comfort where you can be in each other’s presence without wanting to cry
  • Highly likely that he will eventually cave and beg to have you back

Jaehee

  • She’s been weighing the pros and cons of your relationship for weeks
  • And so far the cons are winning
  • It hurts her, because even though this isn’t her first relationship, it’s definitely the most meaningful one
  • She adores you with every ounce of her being, but this just isn’t working for her anymore
  • Thankfully she is more upfront than everyone else, and she will approach you as soon as she’s sure that it’s what is best
  • It’ll break your heart to lose someone as wonderful as Jaehee, but she’s surprisingly good at making sure you are ok 
  • Usually it would make things a million times worse to have the person who just ripped your heart out comforting you, but there’s something warm and genuine about her that makes it easy for you to accept
  • She’ll check up on you in the weeks after the breakup, and if you aren’t ready to speak to her directly she will check on you via other members
  • Although she will try her best to make sure things are not awkward between you, she will get flustered more often than not when in your presence
  • Eventually things will settle and everything will be less painful, but she’ll probably spend the odd moment here and there wondering if she really did make the right decision 
  • But even with her doubts, she will never act on them, and you’ll be left with a hole in your heart which she once filled

Jumin

  • Jumin acts on impulse
  • If the cat projects he constantly attempts showed anything about him, it’s that he doesn’t always think entirely rationally, occasionally just doing the first seemingly logical thing that comes to his mind
  • Unfortunately for you, that also means ending your relationship
  • You were the first person who actually steal his heart in a positive way, and it honestly cuts him up for things to go this way
  • His idea of the best approach is being honest and to the point, sitting you in his home office
  • He treats it the way he would a meeting discussing the end of a contract
  • His emotionless expression and monotone voice are reminiscent of his previous self, and if the breakup itself didn’t hurt, seeing him revert to his toxic ways did
  • But the breakup does hurt
  • Especially the way he seems to not care
  • You can’t help it, tears start rolling down your face in a desperate bid to escape your eyes, and your breath hitches in your lungs
  • He wants to comfort you, he just doesn’t know how, so he leaves
  • It takes a long time to recover from the breakup, and during that time he respects your need for space
  • Although he doesn’t stop using the messenger, he does choose to opt out of friendly gatherings between RFA members
  • He wants you to be happy
  • He just wants it to be without him

Seven

  • Seven is not good at accessing his feelings
  • And even if he does manage to acknowledge them to himself, he does his damn best to avoid talking about them to other people
  • This includes you
  • His way of ending the relationship is making you do it, that way he isn’t accountable for any hurt you may feel
  • He’ll spend days, weeks, months, anything just trying to piss you off and push you over the edge
  • You constantly feel like your ready to reach your boiling point and leave, but you love him
  • You really love him
  • After weeks of what feels like emotional torture you finally plead with him to just tell you what was going on with him
  • He feels forced into a corner and ends up doing what he didn’t want to do, breaking things off with you
  • It devastates you, a very large part of you thought this was the love of your life, and yet here he is, telling you he doesn’t love you anymore
  • After the breakup, he completely ghosts you
  • You heard that he’s only been speaking to V privately, but you honestly have no idea what’s going on with him
  • It isn’t until at least a year later that he finally turns up to one of the RFA parties
  • He probably thought avoiding you would help you get over the pain
  • But he was wrong
  • Seeing him for the first time since the breakup, the wounds suddenly feel fresh again, and you’re left wondering if you’ll ever escape from this hell you’ve found yourself living in

V

  • He just wouldn’t
  • If V could stay with Rika despite all she did, loving her right until the very end, he would not end things with you
  • BUT
  • In some parallel universe where he isn’t the angelic being that we all know and love as if that exists
  • He would write it in a letter
  • It’s not always easy for him to get out every feeling he has in person, instead finding it better to pen it out on some stationary
  • That is after all why he wrote so many love letters
  • He will stay with you as you read the letter, explaining anything you don’t quite understand as you scan it over and over and over again
  • It feels so bittersweet that the last letter you receive from him wasn’t another expression of his love to add to your overflowing collection, instead a letter ending what you thought would last a lifetime
  • Even now you find it impossible to hate him, he would sit next to you, ready to comfort you at any sign of distress
  • After you go your separate ways it starts to hit you harder and harder
  • He never gave up on Rika despite all the horrible things she did, what was so awful about you that he couldn’t bear it?
  • Your own insecurities make it hard for you to completely ever move on, and even though he tries extremely hard to keep a pleasant atmosphere between you, the scorn of unrequited love plagues the air
  • The other members beg you to let it go, and you may even tell them that you have, but you will always hold on to that little bit of hope that he’ll come back to you
  • But he never does

Saeran

  • The worst of them all, his breakup will be sudden, blunt and extremely painful
  • He’ll get to a point where he knows he doesn’t care about you anymore, but he doesn’t know exactly how to end things
  • So he just kind of stop everything
  • Stops answering your calls, stops answering your messages, stops visiting you
  • He just seems to cut off contact with you in every way
  • It’s almost similar to Yoosung, but he’s not avoiding an inevitable breakup, he just doesn’t think he’s necessary
  • His attitude is ‘if i ignore them for long enough, they’ll get the message’
  • But you don’t
  • You love him with everything you have, and you worry about him like crazy
  • So even when he’s blocking you out, you’ll try to get through to him
  • This results in you turning up at his apartment one night, hammering on his door with a desperate need to just hear his voice
  • He doesn’t let you in, instead standing in the doorway blocking your entry
  • It’s then that he tells you it’s over, your relationship is no more
  • Without even waiting for a response, he shuts the door and goes back to whatever he was doing
  • If there’s one thing he didn’t see the point in, it was wasting time on emotions that didn’t lead anywhere
  • You try everything you possibly can to get him back, even trying to get Seven on side, but nothing works
  • He never really turned up to things regarding the RFA anyway, so he wasn’t missing out and things weren’t awkward in that respect
  • But you just couldn’t shake this feeling of dread every time you opened your eyes, your mind constantly going over everything
  • One night it would be too much, and you ring him begging him for an explanation, but he’s cold and unresponsive, saying only one thing before hanging up
  • He didn’t love you, he never had

You are a witch and heavily pregnant with quads

You are a witch and heavily pregnant with quads. You go to the hospital for your monthly checkup, when you meet a man who takes his girlfriend to the hospital for abortion. He also refuses to give the seat to you because he comes first. He quickly complains how “useless women are” and how “easily they get pregnant” while looking at his girlfriend. Angry by this man’s misogynistic behavior, you decide that it’s time for this little boy get his punishment. You cast a spell to transfer your babies and his soon-to-be-aborted baby to him so that this man can experience full 9-month (and a couple overdue week) pregnancy. You leave the hospital with a flat stomach. You also set a monitor at home to view this jerk’s next 9 months.

The guy happily goes home after getting rid of his baby and breaking up with his girlfriend. The next morning, he wakes up feeling nauseous. He feels dizzy and tired. Seafood and pork have weird smell to him now. And, whenever he smells them he vomits. He quickly vomits everything he eats, even though he doesn’t eat much. He starts to get this weird craving for sour food. He even gets a checkup, but the result shows that it just a cold. He feels stuffed whenever there’s smoke from the cigarettes. One glass of beer makes him feel like dying the next morning. Not to mention, he is always out of energy.  He losts his six packs at the third month. He suffers the next 4 months with those symptoms. And, you feel satisfy watching him suffer.

However, the fun only begins when he enters his fifth month. However, to him, he may look like he gains a little bit of weight, but he looks like he is in his seventh month. You enjoy watching him waddling around with his huge belly, moaning whenever he gets cramp, and rubbing his belly whenever he has a “stomachache”. The whole “weight gaining” thing makes him supper horny. Not only his dick is in pain, but also his hole is begging for pleasure. He has no choice but to call a male prostitute to satisfy him. He feels ashamed being bottomed at first. However, when the prostitute’s giant manhood thrusts into him, he can’t feel anything but orgasm. It feels so good having someone fuck him and rub his belly at the same time. He moans loudly. He only lets the guy go after the fourth round. Despite his heavy belly, aching back and swollen feet, the next 4 months are pleasant as he has someone to fill his horny hole.

When he is at the ninth-month-and-2-week of his pregnancy, his belly drops low. He has stopped coming out of his house since month 7 because he could not find any clothes that fit him. He puts on nothing but his boxer at home. For a few days, he has felt more cramps in his stomach. He usually wakes up in the middle of the night due to abdomen pain. However, the pain does not stop him to call a guy over to have some fun. When they are in the middle of sex, the contractions are closer, and the pain becomes more severe. However, he is too busy rocking his hips and moaning to pay attention to the pain. When the prostitute thrusts hard and deep inside him, he feels a pop, then fluid rushes out of him. It makes the call boy panicked, he pulls his penis out. Now, you let the jerk experiences labor pain. The first baby starts shifting, yet he is not fully dilated He spreads his legs, one hand holding to his belly. The pain tears him apart. He wants to ask the prostitute for help. However, the guy runs away, scared by the scene in front of him. You look at him, whom is alone and scare, from the monitor. You are having fun watching him instinctively pushing although he’s only 6-cm dilated.

“What’s wrong with me?” He asks.

You make the babies kick him as if they could rip him apart. When the kicks become visible to him, he falls into confusion.

“What’s the fuck?  What the hell is inside me? Am I pregnant?”

He puts his finger deep inside to feel what’s inside him, then he feels the top of the baby’s head. As he knows nothing about birthing, he calls 911 wishing they could come to rescue him. However, you will not make it easy for him. You use your power so that the medic only come when you want they to.

“Arghhhhhhhh….. Ohhhh….. Mmmmmmm, owww…” He has been pushing for 30 minutes now, but he is 2 cm away from being fully dilated. He is quickly losing his strength and drenched in sweat as he heaves and pushes. You make him reach for his laptop as the contractions hit him hard. He changes to a squatting position while reading birthing information. He uses his fingers to check how dilated he is, and realizes that he has been wasting his energy pushing so soon. He fights against his urge to push as he waddles to the kitchen to boil water, sanitizes the scissors, and places a blanket for the babies. With the birthing video in front of him, he squats down. When he finds out that he’s fully dilated, he pushes hard as the contraction hits him.

“hoo hoo hoo….FUUUCKKKK….gaaah!” He cries loudly. The first baby is crowing, With one big push and the head is out. The shoulders are the hardest part. He stopping himself from pushing to rewatch that part on the video. When he feels the next contraction, he spreads his hole larger to push the baby out. He cuts the umbilical cord and lays the baby boy on the blanker. After the first one, the babies start coming faster and faster.

“It’s burning….. go slowly… hoo hoo…. Go slowly baby,” he barely has time to catch your breath before the next one starts working its way out.

“As you wish,” you point a finger at him. And, the baby starts to move slowly making little to non-progress despite how hard he pushes. You find it entertaining watching him struggles.

“Gaaaahhhhhh…….haaaaa. it’s not moving. Hoo hooo hoooo,” after 1 hour of pushing, the baby is finally out.

You decide to have a little fun with the third one as you make him arouse by the contractions and the baby’s movement. His dick starts getting harder. You want him to feel both pleasure and pain as the same time.

“Fuck… not now….Mmmmmmhmm…Ahhh,” with one hand’s on his belly and the other’s on his penis, he’s pushing and jerking off at the same time. “Umh, yes… move for daddy baby,” He cums and entirely pushes the third one out.

By the fourth, he’s exhausted. You don’t have to use your magic to make him suffers. He’s in all-four position now. Due to the lack of strength, the baby is pushed back a few inches whenever she’s about to crown. That makes him cries in pain. He clenches his fists and teeth, and pushes with all his might. Finally, the head is out. With a little strength left, he finally pushes the rest of the baby out.

The last baby is the child that he abandoned. You want to make sure that he pays for what he had done. First, you turn the baby from a 7-pound to a 15-pound baby. Next, you prevent the water from breaking for the next 15 minutes, and let him suffer from painful contractions. You also make him walks around to induce the labor. Moreover, you make him takes care of other four babies while suffering from severe labor pain. He has to move around to get blanket, towel, water, close the curtains, and unlock the door for the medics. In the mean time, you prepare your popcorn for the last birth. You and your popcorn get back to the couch at the same time his water breaks. You make him experiences everything he has experienced with the other four, from the pain to the pleasure to the ring of fire. Because the baby’s head is too big, he cannot push the head out. He changes to squatting position, but it is hopeless.

“Gosh, it’s burning. How can women do it? I will change. I won’t disrespect women anymore. Please… it’s hurt,” he’s panting.

Pleased that he learns his lesson, you finally let the medics in to help him. They widen his hole by cut it larger. After the last baby is born, he is taken to the hospital. However, to make sure that he will not “misbehave” again, you cast a spell that if he did wrong, he would get pregnant.

The next day, when you walk past an alley, you catch a guy attempts to rape a girl. After saving the girl, you know exactly what to do with that rapist.  

#pregnanttransfer

I kinda understand why some people with fucked up traumatic childhoods end up turning to drugs and self damaging habits later in life.. it’s that feeling of wanting to numb the constant pain that never goes away. It’s the heavy feeling weighing over your head, your chest and your shoulders. It’s just wanting to feel numb and feel something other than pain, anger and sadness. I feel like people who have endured a traumatic childhood with an abusive parent or parents have this hole inside us that we know will never be filled, it’s that hole where a loving, nurturing protector ..your parent should have been. But it’s never been filled and you feel so empty and you know the hole will always be there so you try to numb it with other things. I know that’s no excuse to make bad choices. But i can relate and understand why people would. Not everyone is strong. Some people were just born into a shitstorm, some people had it bad from day one and all they needed was someone to love and care for them, the simple basics we take for granted, and the lack of that simple thing in the first stages of a childs life and throughout is incredibly detrimental and damaging. How could some of us even stand a chance? I guess I know what it feels like now not to live life..but to just exist and just think about how to numb the pain and how to survive.