survive the distance

But your best friend is still your best friend. Even from half a world away. Distance can’t sever that connection. Best friends are the kind of people who can survive anything. And when best friends see each other again, after being separated by half a world and more miles than you think you can bear, you pick up right where you left off. After all, that’s what best friends do.
Business and Pleasure - Part 12

Summary:  Bucky AU. After a major deal falls through, your father’s business almost falls apart. In a desperate attempt to save his livelihood, he seeks the help of his oldest friend, George Barnes, who happens to be the CEO of one of the most influential businesses in New York. He agrees, but on one condition. You have to marry his son.

Word Count: 1,359

Warnings: Swearing 


Originally posted by buckysclique


Neither of you had slept that night. You were wrapped in each other’s embrace until the moment Bucky had to leave. You had insisted on going to the airport with him, despite his protests that it wasn’t necessary. You wanted to, though. You couldn’t let him leave on his own.

There was a time when you prayed that he would be sent away on business, but things had changed so much in so little time. You wanted to show him that you were serious, to reassure him that your relationship would survive even despite the distance.

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Knuckles : Boxer!Ashton (Part 5)

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six

“Calum!” you call after walking into the kitchen, spraying cleaner on the counter and drying it down with a rag. “It’s your turn to take the garbage out.”

“One second,” he says back, followed shortly with an unrelated, “Oh, shit.”

A moment later you glance up to see him emerge from his bedroom, shirtless, and holding in his hand a toothbrush with bristles coated in white paste.

Your arm continues to circle the counter with the rag, using slightly less elbow grease now that you’ve been distracted. “What?”

“Water’s out in my room,” he answers casually, as if it’s a reoccurring inconvenience that he’s come to expect over time. He reaches across the counter to dampen his toothbrush with the kitchen’s faucet, then proceeds to scrub his morning breath away.

“How does it just go out in one room?” you question, turning to use the same cleaner on the front of the refrigerator.

“Dunno,” Calum mutters with a mouth full of foam. Your ears catch the sound of him spitting into the sink.

“I just cleaned that.”

“And you did a great job.”

You cast an annoyed glare over your shoulder.

“Anyway, cool if I use your shower?” Calum asks, smiling at the silent threat.

The ownership you have over anything in the apartment still sounds odd to you when put into words, almost always forcing you to pause with the need to correct Calum before remembering he’s making sense. You guess you haven’t quite settled in to your newest living arangment yet, still in the habit of referring to it as Calum and Ashton’s place. You only unpacked your last box a few weeks ago, a short while after Ashton left for Las Vegas to pursue the boxing training Dennis Serrant had to offer.

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STILES LOVE FOR LYDIA OVERWHELMS ME , LIKE HE LOVES HER SO MUCH LIKE YOU CAN SEE IT IN HIS ACTIONS AND ON HIS FACE ,I JUST LOVE HOW STILES WHEN HE LOVES PEOPLE HE LOVES THEM DEEPLY HOW HE LOVES SCOTT AND HIS DAD AND LYDIA. FUCKS ME UP.

LIKE STILES AND LYDIA ARE BROKEN PEOPLE AND TOGETHER THEY WILL HEAL EACH OTHER 

I CAN IMAGINE THEM LAYING IN BED NAKED AND STILES KISSING EVERY INCH OF LYDIA BODY AND WITH EACH KISS HE SAYS I LOVE YOU AND HE TELLS HER HOW MUCH SHE MEANS TO HIM,IMAGINE HIM KISSING HER SCARS , IMAGINE HIM SEEING THE SCAR THAT PETER GAVE HER FOR THE FIRST TIME , IMAGINE LYDIA TRYING TO COVER THE SCAR WITH HER HAND BUT HE TAKES HER HAND AWAY AND KISS IT AND HE GENTLY TELLS HER “ DON’T HIDE FROM ME ” .

IMAGINE LYDIA DOING THE SAME, KISSING EVERY INCH OF STILES BODY IMAGINE HER WHISPERING ALL THE WORDS THAT STILES NEVER THOUGHT HE WILL HEAR FROM HER ,SHE TELLS HIM SHE LOVES HIM ,SHE TELLS HIM HE IS BEAUTIFUL ,SHE TELLS HIM THAT HE IS HER SAFE PLACE , SHE TELLS HIM THAT HE IS HER HOME .

IMAGINE THEM SITTING ON HIS BED WHEN HE TELLS HER THAT HE GOT ACCEPTED TO COLLEGE AND SHE SMILES AND HUGS HIM BUT WHEN SHE LOOKS AT HIS FACE SHE SEES THERE IS SOMETHING WRONG SHE HOLDS HIS HANDS AND HE TELLS HER THAT HE SHOULD LEAVE EARLY HE TELLS HER THAT IT’S HER DECISION TO MAKE BECAUSE HE DOESN’T WANT TO LEAVE HER SHE KISSES HIM AND TELLS HIM THAT THEY WILL ALWAYS FIND EACH OTHER, HE CAME BACK TO HER AND SAVED HER WHEN SHE WAS STUCK IN ECHEIN HOUSE HE CAME BACK TO HER AFTER THE GR TOOK HIM, HE ALWAYS COME BACK TO HER , THEY CAN SURVIVE LONG DISTANCE RELATIONSHIP . BECAUSE THEY’RE STILES AND LYDIA THAT WHAT THEY DO THEY SURVIVE TOGETHER . 

THEY LAY IN BED AND TALK AND SHE TELLS HIM THAT SHE WANT TO DRIVE HIM TO DC AND WHEN SHE LOOKS AT HIM TO SEE HIS REACTION HE HAS THE WIDEST GRIN ON HIS FACE THEN HE NUZZLES HIS FACE IN HER NECK AND JOKES “ IMAGINE ALL CAR SEX , HOTEL SEX AND DORM SEX WE CAN HAVE  ” AND SHE LAUGHS AND KISSES THE TOP OF HIS HEAD.  

( you know i truly think stiles would put the decision about him going to DC in lydia hands , i am pretty sure that he knows that she will tell him to go,like if she told him don’t go which she would never say he would have stayed , i don’t know how to explain jiekjrkgkrj please feel free to discuss this with me  ).

The Ex

Nicole’s ex-girlfriend comes into town to visit and Waverly is not happy at how close the two still are.

“Wave, it is not that big a deal,” Nicole said with a nervous chuckle, holding up her hands in surrender. “Please just calm down and think about this rationally.”

Waverly huffed and crossed her arms. “Really? You want me to calm down about this? Your ex, your first love has rolled into town and just decided to say hey with no kind of alternate plans?”

Nicole shook her head in earnest. “Babe, no, that’s not it at all. Look, she and I were close even before we dated, so even after we broken up–”

Wynnona from where she stood in the corner hissed in sympathetic pain and took a swig of her beer. “Wrong thing to say, Haughtstuff.”

“Wait, wait, are you telling me that even after this girl broke your heart, you continued to be friends?” Waverly cried in disbelief. 

Nicole winced and rubbed the back of her neck. “Well, when you say it like that, it doesn’t sound great…”

“You think?” Wynonna chuckled from her front row seat.

“Shut it!” the couple shouted in unison.

“Look, babe, just let me explain? Please?”

Waverly sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Okay. I trust you, Nic. So explain–”

Nedley walked over the where the girls were having their… disagreement.“Hey, Haught, some girl wants to see you. Was wonderin’ if you were still on for dinner.”

Waverly’s face became stone and Nicole looked like she had seen a ghost. Waverly straightened and her jaw was set, eyes fixed in a glare that could kill.

“Hey, Haughtstuff?” Wynonna whispered. Nicole glanced over at where the older Earp was standing. “I’d make my daring escape right now if I were you.”

Nicole backed away slowly from where Waverly was clearly trying to keep her composure as she grabbed her jacket and practically sprinted out the door.

“Wynonna?”

“Yeah, baby girl?”

“Two things.”

“If murder is one of them–”

“I need a flamethrower, alcohol, and a place that I can shoot at things and probably not kill them.”

“Oh, thank God. Alright, let’s go get the booze first.”

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10 things to appreciate in your LDR:

  1. You don’t always need to shave
  2. The texts you get from them make you smile at your phone like an idiot
  3. You still get butterflies just hearing their voice
  4. You get to have the cutest Skype dates
  5. SKYPE KISSES
  6. You get to be a total romantic when writing letters and mailing them stuff
  7. You always get excited planning visits and talking about closing the distance someday
  8. Every visit is technically an adventure
  9. You really appreciate the little things that close distance couples overlook
  10. You know that if you survive the distance, you both can pretty much survive through anything
Fanfiction - Stealing Tomorrow (Chapter 5)

Chapter 5 – Boston Calling

Edinburgh, 12 years ago

Claire absentmindedly twisted her silver wedding ring on her finger, listening as Jamie rummaged in the adjacent bathroom, preparing for bed. The sounds he made – whistling as he shaved, cursing in Gaelic as he cut himself with the razor or tunelessly singing in the shower – were her favourite playlist in her life’s soundtrack.

He came out and turned off the lights, immersing their room in shadows, as the wind howled outside. Pulling up the sheets to slide in next to her, she yelped as his cold hands grabbed her buttocks with purpose.

“Hmm.” Jamie growled. “Ye’re so plump and warm, Sassenach. Can’t think of a better way to warm myself.”

“My ass is freezing, but you’re welcome.” She complained, but scooted closer to him nonetheless. Claire enjoyed the feel of his hands, brushing her arms and waist, tracing her outline from shoulder to hip, melting against him as she had so many times before. She bit her lip, trying to regain focus and not to surrender completely to the sensation altogether. “I received a letter today.”

“A secret admirer, lass?” Jamie said jokingly, but she heard the hint of jealousy in his lilt. She was very popular amongst the young doctors - and even some professors treated her with unwanted gentleness and looks filled with longing directed to her bosom. Jamie always managed to rein in the urge to kill them all in gruesome ways, leaving her with the task of subtly display her wedding ring and casually mention her husband’s menacing height.

“Not quite.” She softly said and rolled to face him. “Before we met I applied to a scholarship in Harvard – they have a fantastic program and…Well, I really didn’t have anything to root me here.” Claire shrugged. “As so much time passed without an answer, I forgot I even sent them my application.”

“And ye got an answer today?” He brushed her curls, caressing her face.

“I did.” She swallowed hard. “Apparently my papers were lost – placed in the wrong archive. They found them a few days ago.” Claire looked into his eyes. “And they want me, Jamie. They are offering me a full scholarship to graduate there. There was a note with the letter – from Doctor Raymond. He directs the surgical program at Mass Gen and he is offering me a spot there to learn under him.”

“Doctor Raymond.” Jamie massaged her hand, furrowing his brows in concentration. “The wee doctor whose articles ye keep reading even while we eat? The one ye once called “A legend disguised as a toad”?”

“Yes.” She smiled. “That’s the one.”

They stayed in silence for a while, contemplating the ramifications of such mind-altering news.

A Dhia! That is amazing, Sassenach!” Jamie smiled at last, kissing her deeply. “I’m verra proud of ye. I always knew ye were extraordinary and I’m so glad others are coming to the same conclusion. When will ye go?”

“What do you mean?” Claire asked, confused. “I can’t go! It’s on the other side of the bloody planet!”

“I ken that.” He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “I have my geography up to date, Sassenach. But ye have to go – it’s your dream we’re talking about, your career. If they really are the best, ye must learn from them - the chance being offered so prettily.”

“But this means years there, Jamie!” She insisted, agitated. “To change our lives so profoundly they will barely look the same!”

“The most important things will remain the same, mo nighean donn.” Jamie said in a soft tone. “I will still love ye with all my heart. I will still be proud of you to the point of bursting with it.”

“But Jamie…” Claire said in a husky voice, fighting back the sudden threat of tears. “You can’t come. And I won’t leave you!”

“Aye.” Jamie agreed, his eyes downcast. “I canna come.”

One year before Brian Fraser had been walking on his state, overseeing the harvest intended to the malting of whiskey, when a shattering headache had overcame him. His workers had found him on the ground, barely breathing, his left side paralyzed and his speech incomprehensible. Victim of a massive stroke, he had managed to survive by sheer Fraser stubbornness – but in spite of vigorous physical therapy and all around the clock care, he would never regain full function of his hand and leg. Jenny had been forced to assume the bulk of the Fraser business, but Jamie went to Lallybroch every week to assist his father and help his sister – spending himself on tiresome journeys and constant heartbreak. It was impossible for him to leave the country for a long period, and they were both painfully aware of that realization.

“I will write them explaining it is impossible for me to go.” Claire insisted, entwining their fingers, their wedding rings touching as chains of an unbreakable bond. “I can become a surgeon just as easily here.”

“You canna do that, Claire.” Jamie said vehemently. “I canna live with myself knowing I hindered ye. That our marriage was an obstacle for ye to move forward – I can’t and I won’t. We have our entire lives to be together – we can manage to survive a few years of distance. Besides, I’ll come to visit ye as often as I can manage.”

“I can’t, Jamie…” Claire pleaded, entangling her fingers on his auburn hair, already dreading the moment she wouldn’t be able to touch him – to roll in bed in the middle of the night and find him waiting for her. To hear his voice coming up the stars, joyful with the prospect of kissing her once he opened the door. To smell him on her skin as an invisible cloak he had offered her to wear.

“You can and you will.” His thumbs traced under her eyes, as if predicting the need to wipe out tears, still to come. “For I love ye, Sassenach. Nothing will ever change that.”

A grief strong as lightening was already ravaging her body, searing her chest and belly, turning iron into steel for the armour she would wear in his absence.

“Alright.” She accepted, closing her eyes – but still seeing him clearly, gazing at her with love and confidence. “I’ll go.”

He kissed her with fervour, pulling her against his body to remind her that their farewell was still impending, that their touches could still be carved in more than memories.  

“We should stop trying, then.” Jamie whispered softly, rubbing her flat stomach – the box of wonders where they had been hoping to create their own shared miracle. “We’ll think about it again in a couple of years.”

“Does that mean you won’t make love to me anymore?” Claire asked in a fearful tone. “Because I won’t have that, Mister Fraser.”

“Nah.” Jamie smiled with mischief and rolled to place her atop of him. “Just that I will love ye more safely.”

****

Boston, 11 years ago

“I can’t take it anymore, Jamie.” Claire declared to her phone. “I can’t concentrate on anything. I miss you too much.”

“I miss ye too, mo ghraidh.” He sighed. “I’ll be there in a couple of weeks – I can’t stay more than a few days though. Jenny is huge like a ripe watermelon and she can go into labour soon – I must be here to see to Da when she goes to the hospital.”

“Send her and Ian my solidarity – or don’t, she might bite your head off.” Claire laughed and then turned on her side, watching the snowflakes twirling and dancing through her Boston window – she could pretend she was in Scotland, talking to him while he was on another room of their house. “I might just go back with you. This is going nowhere – I’m so behind everyone else. I’m failing, Jamie. Miserably. If I keep this up I’ll be invited out of the program.”

“Ye canna be serious, Claire.” Jamie admonished. “I’m sure ye’re exaggerating.”

“No – I’m not!” She closed her eyes, shielding her eyelids with her palm. “Doctor Raymond called me to his office yesterday – he told me forthright he was very disappointed in me. “Waisted potential” – I believe is what he said.”

General surgery is a hard and demanding residency on a good day – an inferno of sleepless hours, endless techniques and competing colleagues on a mild one. A desperation pit where all hope goes to die on a bad one. Claire had started hopeful and energetic, trying her hardest to be the first to arrive for rounds; reading ahead for every surgery in order to know the answer to every possible question; prescinding of her scarce hours of sleep for the chance of doing one more minor procedure.

But as time went by, Jamie’s absence became an unsurpassable obstacle – the miles separating them a looming shadow, that consumed everything else delicately touched by any light form. Claire started having sleeping problems – which made her unfocused and sometimes late for rounds, arriving just in time to hear a reprimand from her superior. She would ignore what was being said while she texted Jamie, being caught off guard by their questions. She became increasingly more unhappy and sloppy – which had culminated on her neglecting to prescribe the right antibiotic for a patient with known allergies, resulting in an almost fatal anaphylactic shock.

Jamie stayed silent on the line for a moment – she could hear him breathing deeply on the other side. Eventually, he talked again – his voice husky.

“Everything will be as it should, Claire. I’ll take care of it – I promise.”

****

Boston, 10 years and 9 months ago

Claire smiled as she poured water on her vase – the Forget-Me-Nots starting to bloom in a promising array of blue. Jamie had surprised her by bringing the plant with him when he came to visit – it had been peacefully living on their room’s balcony in Edinburgh since they moved there.

Her eyes drifted to the place near the door where they had parted. Jamie already had his travelling bag next to the door, ready to take the cab to the airport. She had located her purse to accompany him and smiled to him in an expectant way, when he had grabbed her by the waist and pressed her against the wall.

“Once more.” He growled against her ear, his hands feverishly displacing her clothes before they locked themselves on her hips. “I must.”

He had entered her like a storm, powerful and devastating, raining on her senses as he thundered on her body, a passion so violent it bordered on despair. All the time his body rocked against her, his forehead was nestled on her neck – he spoke in Gaelic, broken sounds that he repeated like a prayer, as he worshiped her with abandon. When he lost himself to her, moistness bathed her shoulder - tears and sweat like christening presents, offered to protect her against the demons of separation.

The sudden ringing of the phone jumped her, ripping her out of the trance of memories.

“Hey, you.” Claire saluted, knowing it must be Jamie calling. “Not a word for the last couple of days – I was beginning to think you had found yourself a new wife.”

“Claire.” He sounded detached and cold. “I…Needed some time to think.”

“About what?” She said, surprised. Her knowing heart was already racing, preparing her body for an impact she hadn’t predicted. “You’re scaring me, Jamie.”

He stayed silent – like he was reuniting every shred of courage left – and then talked again, sounding supernaturally calm.

“This isn’t working, Claire. I think we should end it.”

“What?” She croaked, her lips numb, as if kissed by unforgiving black death. “You can’t be serious. Is this your idea of a joke, Jamie?”

“No.” He said with assertiveness. “We should separate.”

“But what happened?” She raised and started to walk around her room, everything spiralling around her in a descent to nothingness. “How can you say something like this?”

“Ye were right.” He said in a laconic tone. “It’s too hard. I thought I could – but I can’t. This isna a marriage, Claire. It’s best if we’re both freed from it.”

“I can come back!” She sobbed, rubbing her face – the metal of her ring taunting her like a distant laugh. “I’ll go to Scotland and we can make things right again.”

“No!” He answered, almost angry. “Seas. Don’t come back.”

“What are you saying?” Claire pleaded, her voice no more than a rasp.

“I don’t want ye anymore.” He whispered. “It’s over. I…I want to be with someone else.”

“Jamie…” She cried, sliding to the floor where she curled. “Jamie…”

“I am sorry.” Jamie said and the phone call ended.

I am sorry. I am sorry. I am sorry.

Somewhere, something was breaking. Maybe it was the heart they had built together which she carried inside her chest – maybe the entire world was crashing down, through the vortex opened by the death of their shared star. Maybe all the stars were actually falling from the sky, as the ultimate shower of unfulfilled desires, until nothing remained but meaningless darkness, where she could find solace in the broken shards.

I don’t want you anymore.

Or maybe it was the way her hands blindly searched for the vase - where flowers of ancient promises could never live again, to remind her of his betrayal – as she crushed it on the floor.  

bleedtoloveher  asked:

Kill me. (I'm the worrrrst.)

You’re a goddamn monster and I hate you.



“Do it,” the demon ordered.  Behind him the flames rose higher, gathering strength.

 “Clarke, no,” Octavia screamed.

 The sword shook in her hands.  The curse rang in her ears with terrible clarity.  Saving world will cost you the one you love most.  The words had chilled her to her very bones but Clarke hadn’t given up demon hunting, because that’s what Griffin women did.

They hunted demons.

 No matter the cost.

 So she’d withdrawn, making herself cold and aloof to protect her friends.  It was the only way she could go on; the only way she could think to survive.  Keep them at a distance so she would never have to sacrifice them.

 But the day Bellamy Blake walked into her life with his necromancer witch of a sister that all blew apart.  She’d kept him at arm’s length at first, bickering with him even as she came to rely on him.  He wormed his way into her heart and before she realized it she was throwing herself in front of a fire demon to keep him out of harm’s way.

 But no matter what, she wouldn’t say it.  Not when he kissed her, not when he pulled her out of the siren’s clutches just before her lungs gave out completely.  Not when he was inside of her, and not when he tenderly wrapped the deep cut on her arm from fighting the ice demon.  Not when he kissed her shoulder as they lay in bed together, and not when he challenged her to a sparring match with their swords.  She wanted to— every single time— but the curse kept coming back to her.  Saving the world will cost you the one you love most, it said, and she hoped if she didn’t say it out loud it wouldn’t be true.

 She should have known curses didn’t have loopholes.

 “Do it,” the demon ordered.  “Kill him, or watch the world burn.”

 “No,” she spat.  “I won’t.”

 Wind from the flames fanned Bellamy’s hair, but he kept his eyes on her.  “Come on, Clarke.  There’s only one way out of this.  You know that,” he said, steady and reassuring even on the edge of death.  “I love you, O,” he called, and then those brown eyes were back on her, anguished but determined.  “It’s what has to be done,” he said.  A sad smile crossed his face.  “But hey, at least now we know curses are real.”

 Clarke made a sound that was half laugh, half sob.  Of course he would choose this moment to make a terrible joke; it was why she loved him in the first place.  “I didn’t want it to be you,” she said, and a tear rolled down her cheek as she tightened her grip on the sword.

 “I know, princess.  I didn’t either,” he said.  She stepped closer and his shoulders tensed.  “Just do it fast, okay?”

 Clarke nodded and raised the sword.

 Octavia’s scream echoed in her ears.  Bellamy’s eyes widened and Clarke could have sworn she felt the metal pierce her own heart.

 And then he fell over.

 Dead.


Clarke dragged herself back to the group.  Raven was patching up Monty and Octavia was slumped over Bellamy’s body, murmuring.  Clarke couldn’t bring herself to look at him.  “Is it over?” Harper asked.

 “It’s over,” Clarke sighed.  “Just had to do a little demon clean-up.”  Her clothes were spattered in black blood and her throat felt raw from all the smoke, but at least they were alive.

 Well, not all of them.

 Not the one who mattered.

 “You saved the world, Clarke,” her mother said.  “I’m so proud of you.”  The tears started to fall and Clarke collapsed into her mother’s arms, broken.

 Six feet away, Bellamy coughed.

 Clarke was out of her mother’s arms like a shot.  She shoved Octavia out of the way and threw herself across Bellamy’s chest.  “It worked,” she murmured.  “It worked.”

Bellamy gave a hoarse chuckle and his hand curved around the back of her head.  “Of course it worked.  My sister is one hell of a witch,” he said.  Clarke laid her head over his heart, needing to hear it beat.  He coughed again.  “Could you let up?  I did just get stabbed, you know,” he teased.

 Laughing through her tears Clarke lifted her head and helped him sit up.  She kissed him— first his lips, then his cheeks, then his eyelids— and pressed their foreheads together.  “That was a hell of a risk you took,” she scolded.

 “I trusted you,” he said, and lifted his lips to press a kiss to her forehead.  “But hey, now we know curses have loopholes.”

Pairing: Iwaizumi/Oikawa

From: iwa-chan
lol cant believe you did that

To: iwa-chan
yeah bet you really miss me, huh?

From: iwa-chan
yeah

Some numbers never get deleted from phones.

It was a secret that Oikawa had kept for years. He actually runs into the problem of having too many contacts and so will delete them when they’re no longer of use. It happens; some people come into his life, very few stay. People he’s dated, people he’s fallen in love with, people he’s hooked up with, people whose homework he’s copied have come and gone from his phone, but some numbers never get deleted.

Even the number of the worst break up he ever had to go through:

Iwaizumi Hajime.

Twenty two years of friendship came to an abrupt and painful halt after a four year relationship ended, two years passing before Oikawa accidentally–honest to god, accidentally–sent a text to Iwaizumi instead of Kuroo. It had been one of the normal awkward ‘you too’ to someone in an inappropriate situation; really, it wasn’t that interesting or funny, but Iwaizumi’s answer made Oikawa feel like that was a once in a lifetime thing.

They’d survived long distance through college, but somehow living together drove them apart. They’d slept over at each other’s so often they assumed it wouldn’t be a drastic change, but what Oikawa hadn’t anticipated was that by living with Iwaizumi, he’d see all the things Iwaizumi never would’ve told him about. 

He’d tried to ignore it, but his forced happiness only pissed off Iwaizumi. By trying to reassure himself that all the opportunities Iwaizumi gave up for him weren’t wasted, he seemed to inadvertantly cause him to miss more and guilt trip the person who was unintentionally guilt tripping him. And then they started fighting, yelling at each other until their voices were hoarse and Iwaizumi croaked that he’d be the one to move out. 

Oikawa still hated himself every single day for not stopping him.

Three days later, he was still staring at that text. At Iwaizumi admitting he missed him, at their short, albeit more or less natural seeming conversation. Three days later, his heart was still fluttering and he still found himself smiling because more than a boyfriend or love of his life, he’d lost his best friend and had never really recuperated. 

Chewing on his bottom lip, his thumb hovered over his keyboard. He wanted to strike up a conversation again, but didn’t know how. Asking him out to lunch after three days of silence was too weird. Bringing up another stupid thing he did was too obvious. Iwaizumi was the one person he could talk to without ever once thinking about it, but suddenly charismatic Oikawa had no idea how to converse. 

It broke his heart almost more than Iwaizumi’s yeah had. 

Giving a frustrated groan, he tossed his phone aside and ran his fingers through his hair. He collapsed onto the couch and stared up at the ceiling. Was Iwaizumi dating? Did he still live in that apartment above the 7-11? Did he still wear his favorite but ratty old Godzilla shirt? Was he still a messy eater?

Had he fallen in love with someone else?

Breath seizing in his chest, Oikawa pushed himself up and grabbed his keys. He needed closure. He couldn’t spend the rest of his life hypothesizing about Iwaizumi’s ending; he needed something concrete to drive it through his head that they were over.

Or he needed a second chance, just another chance to make sure he wouldn’t mess up the greatest thing in his life.

Blood pounding in his ears, Oikawa yanked his door open. A mass of black hair made him instantly think Kuro? but the whiff of mint instantly made his stomach drop, much like the way his body to the ground with Iwaizumi’s on top of it.

Grunting in pain, Oikawa winced and reached a hand up to his head, shifting uncomfortably. His legs were tangled with Iwaizumi’s and a certain shift caused something to dig into Oikawa’s hip in a rather unpleasant way. He jerked, but when he opened his eyes to see Iwaizumi looking at him, nothing else mattered.

He swallowed.

“…Iwa-chan,” he managed in a tight voice. “You…”

He trailed off.

“…Why are you here?”

“Dumbass.”

Iwaizumi glared but gave a soft smile. Oikawa’s stomach lurched because it was the same smile. The smile when they were sixteen and Iwaizumi told him he was proud to be his ace, the smile when they were eighteen and Iwaizumi confessed to him, the smile when they were twenty one and Iwaizumi was there to watch him get recruited to play professionally.

The smile that reminded Oikawa that no matter how much time passed, some things never changed, some feelings never falter.

“…Like I said. I missed you.”

Fic: Breathing in the Half Light

Part 2 of my Heartlines AU series.

Part 1 Whiskey on a pink dress here

As always feedback is appreciated.

———————————————————————————




Jamie lay in bed staring up at the ceiling. His ears rang from the noise of the club earlier. God. it had been an awful place. But there in the midst of his own personal room 101, he had met her. Claire. He held up his arm and he could make out the numbers on his wrist in the dim light. As soon as he had gotten home he had added it to his phone, written it on a piece of paper and stuck it to his fridge, written it into his day diary and added it to the ‘Useful numbers’ list he kept by the landline. He couldn’t bring himself to wash it off of his wrist though.

He turned over in bed. He wanted to call her, to message her. Connect with her somehow.

He turned again letting out a sigh. He was usually so rational. So logical. He tried to apply that now. “You’re just smitten because you’re so long out of the game. When was the last time you thought about courting a woman?” And that was true. He thought about Geneva. He’d met her when he was 25 and her sister Isobel was dating his friend John. They were running with the same crowd and she was fun and attractive. What had started as a fling based on physical attraction and mutual convenience had turned into a relationship as their shared network expanded and their lives became increasingly intertwined. If he was being honest, things probably would have run their course had he not been sent to Chicago for work. John and Isobel split up not long after and John moved to England. Other members of their social circle got married, got mortgages, had kids. The network that had brought and kept them together slowly unravelled. From Chicago he was sent to Sydney, Dubai and then Bogota. He and Geneva stayed together but their relationship consisted of a few days here, a fortnight’s holiday there. She expressed no interest in joining him on his travels and it never even occurred to him to ask her. Six years later he resigned from his job in order to take over the running of the family business. He’d had big plans for Lallybroch, both as a working farm and as a commercial venture. He returned to Scotland and to Geneva. She hinted heavily that she was nearly 30, that he was 33 and maybe they should think of settling down. Jamie being the dutiful and loyal man he was had duly proposed. Given the ease in which Geneva has arranged the wedding with a date only six months away, it was clear she had been thinking on this for a while. They married with great ado in Inverness, their reception held in an impossibly plush marquee. For once the Scottish weather cooperated. Such was the force of Geneva’s will.

Alas, it became apparent very quickly that their relationship had only survived the years through distance. Once thrown into each other’s company on a regular and continuous basis, the rot set in quickly. Jamie was a constant source of disappointment to her. After six months he’d moved out. Within 9 months he’d filed for divorce, when it became clear there was no relationship to attempt to salvage and quite likely never really had been.. Geneva had not taken it well and delayed at every opportunity. But with no shared assets there was only so long could stall things. Their final decree was made official two days after what would have been their second wedding anniversary.

He sat up in bed. For a long time he’d felt guilty about Geneva. Guilty he had let her down, guilty that he had, when he was honest with himself, never really loved her. He’d thought he was doing the right thing, but he’d probably made things worse. He’d accepted his lack of a relationship in the years since as his atonement for the mistakes he had made, for his personal failure to be able to give Geneva what she had wanted from him. Geneva had moved on. She was involved with a prominent property developer who drove a porsche and treated her like a queen. She still rang him though, usually when she was drunk. It always ended in her yelling at him about the years he’d stolen from her.

He picked up his phone. 2:34am. Should he text? Should he wait for morning? Was he being too keen? Truth be told he had forgotten what it truly meant to want a woman. He’d been with Geneva for years and yet he’d never truly wanted her. Fancied her, yes. Liked her even, but this feeling he had now, for this strange woman that he’d spoken to for only a handful of minutes stirred him more than he had ever known.

He opened iMessages.

“Hi. Jamie here. From the club”

He deleted it. Too sad and needy.

“Hi, hope you were able to make your escape. I was forced to go out of the window and shimmy down the drain pipe. Any chance I could replace that whiskey I spilt all over you sometime? I promise I’ll buy you the good stuff!”

He took a deep breath and pressed send. He was shocked when his phone lit up only minutes later.

“Was forced to change identity and enter witness protection but escape plan successful. Operative escaped with only moderate loss of dignity”

He laughed out loud. It sounded strange in his empty apa. His phone flashed again.

“Operation whiskey is a go. How about tomorrow? 7pm, Taps near the hospital?”

He wasted no time in replying.

“Is affirmative. Rendezvous is set”.

He placed his phone down on the side table and lay on his back. He started at the ceiling and thought about her face. Tomorrow he would find out what colour her eyes were.

Zach Werenski #7

Again, another imagine that wasn’t requested.. But I do have some Zach requests so hopefully this ties you all over till I get to those :) I got this inspiration while listening to Mess Is Mine by Vance Joy so give that a listen if you wanna! 

Word Count: 2,278

It couldn’t be him. What in the world were the odds that he would be at the farmers market so early on a Sunday morning. But you swore you saw him, as you picked up a fresh soft peach from the wooden bucket, you saw him. That dark brown hair, his wide hazel eyes, and you couldn’t miss though stupidly perfect eyebrows either. Truthfully, you thought your eyes were just playing tricks on you, till you looked up again and he was closer this time. 

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kickstarter.com
Distance

I really enjoyed the free game from the students at Digipen called Nitronic Rush, and now three of the students who worked on that are now working on a spiritual successor called Distance - which takes the best bits from Nitronic Rush and adds new features that the fans wanted including multi-player. They are almost at 20% of the required minimun funds needed, but they do have stretch goals prepared for once they reach the goal. So help them go the Distance.

anonymous asked:

"I'm all in if you're all in, baby"

You pace around the studio as your boyfriend records for his second solo album, your nerves pulsating rapidly as you do your best to come up with a speech, a speech that will stop him from terminating the relationship as you tell him in great detail that you have been offered a position in a California Hospital, permanently. You overhear the door open and close, you turn on your heels, your eyes instantly meeting the only eyes that still bring butterflies to your stomach,

“The last time yeh visited me here you brought me a puppy you impulsively decided to buy, so what yeh get us this time?” Harry’s voice chuckles, finally causing you to take a breath and grin. 

“Just came to see you,” You smile while he places a tender kiss on your cheek, followed by pulling you in for a hug, his arms wrapping around you.

You carefully pull away from his warm embrace as you see one of his songwriters walking in, “So, no puppy?” Harry questions with a small pout, making you think he wants to have another four legged friend running around the house chewing on his shoes and belts. 

“No, we can talk about that later.” You trail off, your heart beginning to race at the thought of now bringing up what you are incredibly eager and nervous to tell him. 

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*waves at @lhugbereth* From the God AU, for Promptio week. Not bad for an hours work. 

And Now I’m off to bed. One more day of work and then I can really get some writing done!



It was no great secret that the House of War wasn’t the most well liked among the Citadel. Gladiolus tried not to take it personally; no one liked war, not even the gods. They lost worshippers, saw the cities and temples built in their honor ransacked and toppled, and had to listen to frantic prayers, knowing all too well there wasn’t much they could do. And yet war was needed. It shaped the world, encouraged growth and innovation, among other things.

It was terrible and miserable and brought only unhappiness. No one liked war and so they liked those who brought war, who oversaw it carefully and guided its path, who nudged some to victory and showed only the path to defeat to others, even less. Worse, where War went Death inevitably followed and even the Gods feared Death, their king, their strongest and only true immortal among them. At the end if all things there might not be Love or Knowledge or War, but there would always be death.

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