pick my heart up

You’re A Flirt

Request: Can you an imagine of kai parker where he meets y/n for the first time and can’t stop flirting with her?

a/n; I wish Kai was still on the show tbh

Word Count: 306 (sorry omg)

Pairing: Kai Parker X Reader

Y/N’s P.O.V

“Dang it.” I mumbled to myself, looking around for an employee to help me get what I need off of the top shelf. A hand came into view as I looked back to the box of cereal that was for some reason on the top shelf. I looked to the left of me and saw a guy grabbing it for me, clearly he didn’t work here. “Thank you.” I smiled when he handed it to me, “it’s the least I could do.” He answered, a half smile, half smirk on his face, making my heart rate pick up. 

“And why is that?” I asked, placing the box in my cart, checking it off of my list. “A pretty girl like you shouldn’t have to wait for one of these idiots to get it for you.” He responded, looking at me in a way I couldn’t decipher, although it was definitely flirty. I grabbed my cart handles, getting ready to continue on my way. “Well, thanks again.” My face flushed as I turned away from him. “Maybe we could hang out sometime?” I heard from behind me, I slowed to a stop, turning my head to see the mystery man looking at me skeptically. 

“I don’t even know your name.” I told him, he came up to me again, so we weren’t shouting down the isle. “Kai.” He offered his hand, I took it shaking it slowly, “Y/N.” I smiled, feeling my face heat up, from a simple touch. “Well, Y/N. My offer still stands.” He took the pen that I had sitting on my purse, for my notepad and scribbled a number on it. I looked it over, smiling to myself. “We’ll just have to wait and see, Kai.” I told him before walking off with my cart, leaving him there to process what I said. 

the struggles of going for another route
  • zen: so you don't like my photo?
  • me, clutching my chest and cringing in pain: ...no
  • zen: hmph.
  • me:
  • me, whispering to myself: my heart is breaking

this went in a completely different direction, i am so sorry, it’s 2am

preston ‘The Romantic’ goodplay must be stopped

I remember the day I realized you would never be able to love me. 

Sitting on my cream colored couch
Drifting into space but awake from the dream.

I realized your love for me has glass ceilings, 
There would always be a limit.

There’s a different type of pain when you reach that place.
My heart shattered, and I’ve tried to pick up the fragmented pieces. 
I thought maybe if I put it back together, I could create the most beautiful mosaic.

And in that form, my heart would change,
becoming a different form of art.
But the way I could love transformed into something a little distorted -
You took my capability away.

—  Rhonda Elnaggar
The city streets look different in the morning, the cold air strangles the daylight. The person that I am today still hates the person that I was last year– I’m still learning about how to let go, it’s taking an awful long time and I’m losing a war with myself. I’ve grown bitter about my ways, I still can’t quit my bad habits as quickly as I’ve picked them up. I’m still soft where it counts, my heart is tender and it’s not ready to forgive people. The city looks different without us, but as it seems– I’m still okay without an us, I’m still okay with these chills running down my back. The city forgets, the city forgives. I don’t forget, I don’t forgive. My only flaw, my only imperfection. These tears don’t belong to you, they’re mine. The wind then takes me away, that’s the only thing we share nowadays. A whisper into a busy city, you’re just the scar I didn’t mean to cover up.
—  The Burgundy Poet
If life is a work of art, paint me a canvas. A portrait of me, in dashes of red hot anger and streaks of mournful blue. Paint me into a canvas, don’t leave anything out. Keep the shame and regret, but make sure to see the happiness too. Balance the colors, and hopefully there are more bright spots than dark. Paint a canvas, and do not be afraid to make mistakes. We are all human, and all of our self portraits are colored with the full spectrum of color. Dark days and light days all mix together, maybe not pretty, and maybe not done, but nonetheless paint a canvas of me and I will hang it in my heart for the days when I feel black.
—  pick up all the pretty pieces

JACKSON SEES HIS BAE JOOHEON & RUNS TO PICK HIM UP OMFG MY MONSTA7 HEART #got7#jacksonwang#jooheon#monstax#monsta7#gotx#hardcarry

Made with Vine

“Was it a boy or a girl?”

His question froze the blood in my veins. Was? He thought Julia was dead. Someone had told him our child had not lived. It wouldn’t have been entirely mislead, as we had both almost died in L’Hopital des Anges.  My heart sank to the pit of my stomach as he asked another.

“Are you going to make me beg, Claire?”

Before I could answer him, not that I had tried, Julia announced her presence with a shrill cry.

I met his gaze for the first time and whispered “she’s a girl.”

Jamie was kneeling at my feet and now reeled backwards like I had struck him across the face. In truth, I felt a little sucker-punched myself, and could well imagine what he was feeling.  I couldn’t breathe as he stood up and walked behind me to the hearth.  The sound of blankets rustling and Julia’s soft coos told me he had picked her up.

My heart urged me to fly to him, to wrap my arms about he and Julia and never let go.

Instead, my brain replayed the last the two months: the betrayal, the feverish nights at L’Hopital when I, too, thought Julia dead, the days spent helpless against my child’s pain. All of it, every moment flashed before my eyes.

I propelled myself out of the chair and away from Jamie. I knew that if I saw them together, the tears would begin and I would never be able to stop. They would thaw the protective layer of ice I had so carefully placed around my heart. I would begin to feel again and I fought with every ounce of my being against it.

But Jamie’s love was too strong.

I could hear him whisper to her over and over in Gaelic, his voice thick with tears.  Mo leanabh, mo leanabh.  A piece of my protective wall crumbled apart with each repetition, the weight of emotion pressing down hard upon me. I turned and saw Jamie’s tall form silhouetted by the fire and candle light, an image suddenly and permanently engraved in my mind. The hard edges of the gilded gleam chipped away the images of the past until they were dust, thrusting me towards my husband and child.

I stood beside him, watching him meet his daughter for the very first time. One elbow gently cradled her small head, while his good hand traced the curve of her nose and lips. He looked up and saw me next to him. Reverently, he moved his hand away from Julia’s face and offered it to me. I took it and he drew me into his embrace.

The familiar smell of him washed over me, and the floodgates opened. With every body-wrenching sob, I could feel the last vestiges of my hate for him be torn away. It left me raw and so very vulnerable.  Jamie stood there, holding Julia and I close, letting his tears mingle with mine for what seemed like hours.

Julia, not wanting to be left out, joined us in crying and Jamie shifted the baby into my arms. Her hungry cries set my hands in motion, but Jamie stopped them by kissing me soundly on the lips. He led us to the nearby settee and took my face in both his hands.

“I thought I had lost both of you,” he murmured, wiping the tears from my cheeks.

Not taking my eyes off of him, I nodded. “You almost did.”

His eyes closed and he brought his head forward to brush against mine. He said something in Gaelic and kissed me again.

“What was that?” I whispered when we came up for air.

“Our daughter is perfect,” he repeated.

I pulled sharply away from him, succinctly breaking the spell and hurdling us both into the present. I couldn’t bring myself to tell him what I had only just begun to come to terms with: Julia was dying.  I could feel myself start to tremble as he gathered me into his arms again. He didn’t need to hear the words, he knew with one look.

“Much, mo nighean donn,” he murmured into my ear as he stroked my hair. “Much, mo chridhe. Dinna fash, there’s the three of us now.”