thousand miles apart


» A Collection of Near-Death Experiences by somethingaboutamoose

Keith was twelve years old when he was involved in a car accident with his family. After the near-death experience, Keith has found out something about himself: He can’t die.

» all we have to do by aknightley

Keith gets hurt during a mission, and Lance is not sure how to handle that.

» between stars by NotRover

After years of fighting on opposite sides of the war, Lance and Keith meet once again on the battlefield.

» blue, blue eyes by albino_yeti

What would you do
if you ever knew
the man you desperately love
never thinks the same of you?

» Bottom Of The Ninth by xfulcrumx

Lance is the new pitcher for The Lions. Coran’s goal for the season is to make their rival team, The Galrans, beg for mercy. Somewhere along the way, Klance happens.

» Carpe Diems and Chrysanthemums by Gigapoodle

After years of rivalry, bitter acquaintanceship, and eventual friendship, the realization slaps Lance hard, hard enough to settle into his lungs and sap his life away. It’s when he coughs up a petal that Lance realizes just how far gone he is.

» close to you by solllys

they’re in love with each other; that’s how these things go

» Confinement Of Pain by NightcoreFairy

“During the day we were mere rivals.”

“And during the night?”

“During the night, he was the love of my life.”

» Control by ver_ironica

Keith is desperate to keep up appearances, but things are getting harder. He has to lead Voltron while keeping himself in check. His control is reaching the breaking point, and there may be no turning back.

» Crowd Pleaser by WhatTheBodyGraspsNot

It’s a male strip club, which means Keith’s never short of entertainment during working hours - especially when Blue Rider takes the stage. Because Blue’s hot - definitely talented - and definitely taking an interest in Keith.

» excelsior by warmth

“Onward and upward,” Lance says. “to greater glory.”

» Going Under by sun_stricken

Lance takes a dangerous spill in the ocean and is saved by none other than a mermaid with weird hair

» Hershey’s Kisses by EnglishCivilWar

In which Keith is sad, and Lance tries to cook.

» i think you’re fine you really blow my mind by keithxlance

Five times Lance uses pick-up lines and one time Keith decides to try it out as well.

» I Watched the Sky and the Stars Reminded Me of You by beckkai

“What’s up with you?”

“Nothing. I’m just.” He looked back at the rising moon and expanse of sky before setting Keith with a soft glare,”Nothing.”

» Like Fire by PastelClark

By circumstance and happenstance, Red finds herself in situations requiring she change paladins twice in her life

» Moonset Deep by MilkTeaMiku

All his life he’d been told to make sure he was never seen – it was what all the children were taught from the moment they were born. Never let a human see you, never fall in love with a human, and most importantly, never kiss one.

» Never Let Me Go by doodlenauts

When the music stops, he meets him halfway - even when they’re thousands of millions of miles apart.

» Nothing Like the Rain When You’re In Outer Space by Wayward_child

Lance misses the rain.

» oblivious to what made you so obvious by altruisticallura

He looked up suddenly, as if he could feel Lance’s eyes on him, and gave a small grin. Lance was a goner.

» Panacea (A Cure for Love) by RowenaMacLeod

Keith contracts an alien disease that wipes your mind of the one you love.

» Reach out for you (break these walls) by Utsukushin

Keith is trying to make himself smaller, to bury his head deeper in his knees, and Lance’s heart freezes in his chest. 

» solace in the thrum of your heart by laidellennt

Lance cannot find solace in the stars.

» Somebody Left The Gate Open by lordbatty

Lance always knew he would have to be the one to pick Keith back up. And he’d do it again in a heartbeat.

» suave and charming as heck by Lance_WhyUAlwaysLion

Lance is neither suave nor charming. Or, Lance thinks he’s a pro at flirting until suddenly, he’s the one getting flirted with.

» Sung Me Moonstruck by sciencefictioness

Something hungry within him that was only sated by the sound of Lance’s voice, or the sight of those too deep eyes cutting sideways to look at him. Something wild that only calmed when he was near.

Something broken in Keith that was held together with that crooked grin.

» symbolization by bolbessa

Keith didn’t really do flowers. He just couldn’t take care of them, and to be completely honest, he didn’t see the point.

» teeth and all by viscrael

“Do you want to kiss someone?”

Keith almost drops his Bayard.

» the sea pronounces something by legendarydesvender

AU where Keith is a sailor and Lance is the siren trying to drown him.

» The Whirling Ways Of Stars That Pass by mandaloore

“There,” he spoke in an almost-whisper, tracing the outline of the imaginary constellation like a child following a dot-to-dot illustration. Keith watched his movements from his peripheral vision, hoping that Lance was too preoccupied to notice the rapid beating of his heart. “Can you see it now?”

» Waves Amongst Stardust by Resamille

The flutter of Lance’s heart is almost lost to the homesickness pounding through his veins.

Keep reading

Someday, I’ll wake up with you next to me. Everyday, for the rest of our lives. And I’ll never get tired of those morning kisses and hugs which I’m longing for every single day when distance makes us apart.
Paper Hearts Finale

Originally posted by tbhobi

Genre: Angst/fluff

♡ Pairing: Reader x Jungkook // Reader x Jimin

♡ Length: 6.4k

♡ Summary: It has been nearly a year since you started writing anonymous letters to Jungkook, giving him words of encouragement behind the thin mask of a paper. He never considered you as a possible suspect behind these letters, because you were nothing more than a best friend. And you couldn’t put all the blame on him either, after all, you were too afraid to confess in fear of tarnishing your precious friendship.

1  ♡2  ♡3  4  5  6  7  8 9 ♡10 ♡11 ♡12 ♡13 ♡14 ♡15 ♡Finale

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Chewing her lower lip, Marinette brought up Adrien’s contact information. What would she say? Hesitantly she typed out ‘hi’. She looked at the screen. She could do better than that, right? Minutes passed and she hadn’t typed anything more. Her finger hovered over the screen and then with a burst of determination she pressed send, and quickly closed her eyes.

Opening one eye she looked down at the sent message. Would he message back? Maybe he wouldn’t. What if getting the message was a bother? As the seconds ticked by Marinette had herself convinced he wouldn’t message. “Agh, what am I doing? It’s not like even if he is going to message me back it will be right away. It’s not like he’s expecting me to…”

Her phone dinged notifying her of a replied message and Marinette’s grip on her phone fumbled. Taking a deep breath she looked down at the message. It said 'Hi, Marinette.’

ten thousand miles apart by @ladyserendipitous

humble beginnings | tom holland

Originally posted by kiingholland

inspiration: my love for the “best friends turned to lovers” cliche & @hufflepuffholland for encouraging me through the humble beginnings of my own relationship 

summary: since when did being best friends stop being enough?

a/n: for all intents and purposes, you’re from where tom is :)

It’s been two months since you’ve last seen Tom in person, and his absence is hitting you harder than you thought. At first, your sudden relocation to Southern California felt like a vacation, but as the weeks dragged on, reality began to set in.

You grew up with Tom by your side; ever since you met in the sandbox on the first day of your first year of primary school, the two of you were inseparable. He was there for everything - the ups, the downs, the laughter, the tears - and now that you’re thousands of miles apart, you realize just how much you took him for granted. You never knew how much you needed Tom with you until you left.

It’s a funny thing, how you don’t know what you have until it’s gone.

Even now, as you’re looking at him through the camera on your laptop, it isn’t enough. You can’t help but feel like your relationship is morphing into something you don’t recognize, like you’re drifting in the most inscrutable way possible and no amount of Skype calls, text messages, or Snapchats can change that.

The inevitability of losing Tom to distance sends a dull ache through your chest.

“Hello? Earth to [Name],” Tom’s chuckle filters through your laptop’s speakers and you’re pulled back to the present, where you decide not to worry about the what ifs and to focus on what’s in front of you. 

Which is Tom, and he’s itching for attention.

Your gaze meets his and your eyebrows shoot up, “Sorry, what?”

He sighs overdramatically and rolls his eyes, pretending to sulk, “No, nothing. I can see you have more important things to think about, now that you’re in San Diego.” 

He says the last part with a terrible valley girl accent and you can’t help the laughter that bubbles past your lips, “Shut up, you nob, I’m tired. I can’t help it if someone wants to Skype at such an ungodly hour.”

Ungodly? Darling, it’s two in the afternoon.”

You scoff, “Yeah, for you! It’s six in the morning here in San Diego.” You mimic Tom’s godawful accent, and in the haze of your tiredness, his laugh is more contagious than usual and a weird feeling of fondness squeezes your chest.

There’s a lull in your conversation, but you’re not willing to log off yet, despite your ever-growing tiredness, so you tell him you miss him. A sad smile pulls at Tom’s lips and he shifts to rest his chin in his palm, undeniable charm making an appearance as his cheek smushes against his hand. His voice is a little muffled when he says, “I miss you, too. But it’s fine because you’re coming to visit me in a few days. I’m going to spend so much time with you that you’ll wish you were back in America.”

Your chest fills with a strange sense of affection, but you ignore it and quip, “Hit me with your best shot, Holland. You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

“Good.” He says, grin plastered on his face.

The rest of the conversation proceeds normally, but you can’t shake the weird feeling stirring in your chest and you don’t realize why you’re so desperate to hold on to your relationship with Tom until you hang up.

Leaning back against your pillows after you close your laptop you sigh, closing your eyes. Mentally berating yourself for not realizing your feelings for your best friend earlier, you groan as you think about the past two months and realize that everything you were and are feeling makes sense.

You hate the fact that it took 5,000 miles and two months for you to realize that you’re love for Tom transcends that of a best friend. You guess what they say is true:

Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

There’s a fine line between best friends and lovers and you belatedly realize that you crossed that line a long time ago.

part two

Whipped...Boyfriend...or not anymore??(PT.6)

Originally posted by potplanthas-been

GIF is not mine

How do you go from being around someone 24/7 to having to get used to their abrupt absence from one day to another? 

Harry can admit he’s felt the cold hands of loneliness clinging to him for far too long. 

He’ll refuse to complain about the sudden rise to fame he’s gone through these past 7 years-he likes to think most of everyone knows that-and give into the idea that it might have stolen what might have been a normal life. It’s given him everything he ever only wished for. 

But he’s not immune to the want…the need to have someone beside him he can love. And it’s not the same as family love, or strong bonds of friendship for that matter-not that he’d ever complain about that either, he’s been lucky enough to be surrounded with a genuine group of friends that will put him in his place if need be. But it’s not the same as having someone he can give his heart to in a different way. Someone who he can wake up to, go to sleep next to, celebrate accomplishments with, and just love in a way every human longs to be loved like. 

He’s had relationships in the past, sure, but those didn’t live to see…hear the words I love you. There was just always too much public interest in who he was dating. Harry knew though, so he couldn’t ever reproach fame for that either. The few, and by that maybe two at the most, relationships that he was able to keep out of public eye never made it past the three month mark. What with having been on the road for the better part of his teenage years, he could never offer any of the girls stability. 

But when he met Y/N, it was different. And he sometimes thinks it’s because they were able to form a strong bond as friends before they became an item. The cliché friends to lovers if you will. 

So the questions stands. How does one manage to lose all of it? He had the girl of his dreams at his side? She knew every kink and flaw there was to him. She made him laugh and did things for him without expecting anything in return, which he’s come to the conclusion it’s hard to come by when it seems all he’s encountered is people wanting to be his friend to benefit themselves. Harry, at one point and he’s not sure when, realized Y/N was someone he absolutely could not live without. It’d taken him so long-too long-to come into terms that it hadn’t once crossed his mind that he didn’t see Y/N as more than a friend not because he didn’t have feelings for her, but because he knew how these things go and what steps follow the previous. 

It goes, strangers to friends. Friends turn to best friends which turn into two people realizing they’ve had feelings for each other. If you’re lucky and someone has the balls to say something, that turns into a relationship. And then after that, there’s only two ways it could go. There’ll be bumps in the road, yeah, but through communication and will, the relationship will see the day of marriage and kids and so on. But…if it doesn’t. You lose a lover, and you lose a friend. So yeah, Harry had been oblivious to Y/N’s love because he didn’t wanna lose her.

So, again. How do you cope with losing your best friend…from one day to another?

It’s the moment he opens the door of their previously shared room to nothing but a made bed and his bags where she’d left them after packing for him yesterday, that Harry realizes, nothing he can ever do or say, will ever make this better.

The wrenching feeling in his gut hits him like a train. Harry doesn’t recall the last time he’s felt this alone, not since Y/N. He could be thousands of miles apart from her, but just knowing that she was somewhere, maybe waiting for him, was always enough to remind him that he wasn’t alone. 

But that was then. That was yesterday, before he confessed. 

Harry didn’t have a hard time finding someone he could bunk with last night. There was really only one person who wouldn’t have asked questions if Harry showed up at their door, emotions a mess and looking like shit. He’d apologized for waking his friend up, and didn’t say much other than ‘can I crash 'ere t'nite mate?’ Grimmy couldn’t say the state Harry was in didn’t concern him, he wanted to ask what’d happened, but he didn’t. He’s known Harry long enough to know that he’ll talk about his feelings when he’s ready. No amount of coaxing will get him to spill anything no matter how much he would press. So he’d patted Harry on the back, making a joke about how he’d have to sleep on the sofa and hope it wouldn’t fuck up his back more than it already was. And Harry was grateful that he hadn’t asked about it, because in all honesty, maybe he deserved to sulk in loneliness. 

What Harry did have a hard time with though, was falling asleep when all he could picture was Y/N’s face. He knows her too well, enough that he can tell when she’s trying to keep her emotions at bay. And it hurt that she wouldn’t even look at him.

But he knows. Harry knows he couldn’t ask her to not be mad.

He knuckles at his eyes, tired not from lack of sleep, but from too much crying. And the noise that erupts from his chest and breaks the silence in the room makes Harry want to break down all over again. 

But he doesn’t. As much as he wants to crawl into bed and wrap himself into the covers until he’s a cocoon-like ball of fabric, he can’t go another second without knowing Y/N’s safe. 

So for the next hour or so, he paces the room, his phone firm to his ear, calling everyone from Gemma to some of Y/N’s coworkers, anyone that could possibly know where she’s gone to. But it seems she hasn’t reached out to anyone. And the thought of Y/N having to go through this alone makes him feel even shittier. 

He’s despondent after what feels like the hundredth call. Until his phone rings, Niall’s name flashing across the screen. 


”'Arry? Ye’ a'right?“ 

Harry doesn’t think he can really answer that, but he exhales audibly none the less, the heel of his palm rubbing at his newly glossy eyes. 

"Yeh, Ni." 

Any other day he would gladly made conversation, but he’s got too much on his mind to even pretend to pay attention to whatever Niall’s calling him for. 

"Ye’ sure, buddy?” Niall pauses for a moment, before continuing, “Picked up Y/N from the airport." 

Harry’s tired eyes open wide at that, "ye’ did? How is she? Is she okay?" 

"She seemed fine, H. Was pretty quiet, though. Everything okay with ye’ two?” Niall’s tone is cautious, knowingly, but cautious. 

“Jus’, stay with her, please?" 

"Yeh, o'course, H." 

"Thanks, Ni.” He ends the call on that. A sigh falls from his lips. His body seems to ache, but he throws his head back in exasperation, both arms and heart defeatedly numb. 


The plane ride back home was anything but settling. 

Three hours. Approximately three long hours spent looking out of a plane window, mind wandering to the what if’s

What if Y/N forgives him? What if she gives him a chance to explain? 

But what if she doesn’t? What if she doesn’t pick up his calls? What if she ignores his texts too? What if she does, only to tell him she doesn’t ever wanna hear from him again? 

What. If. 

Harry feels utterly weak, his feet barely helping his body move. Every step feels heavy, every move forced. 

He thanks the cabbie and hands him some money before exiting the car, bags in hands. 

He sets them atop his doorstep to dig out his home keys from one of the pockets, thankful for the easy find, feebly unlocking the door.

He’d expected deafening silence. But when he leans further in, surprised at the faint noise he managed to hear coming from upstairs, he’s all but tripping over his feet, two stepping up the stairs to find the source. 

His heavy steps halt the ruckus, and when he opens the door, he feels his heart drop to the floor. 

“Y/N.” The name falls delicately from his lips. 

If she was caught off guard any, she doesn’t show. She looks him over once before wiping at her nose and continuing her search through his closet. 

Harry’s stands still at the doorway, eyes fixated on her as she patiently unhangs her shirts from where they hang on rods. Her movements are oddly unflustered.

He watches her walk to and from the bathroom, utilities in hand before shoving them into the same bag she’s packed her clothes in. 

He looks at how she goes to kneel in front of the dresser, opening and closing drawers, retrieving anything that belongs to her. 

Harry’s rendered powerless, not knowing what to do, what to say- where to start.

It’s when he hears her sniffle that he’s brought back, the sight of his raggedy Rolling Stones shirt in her hands bringing back memories of her walking about the flat, doing chores in nothing but his shirt and a pair of panties. 

She folds the shirt calmly, placing it back atop the rest of his shirt and closing the drawer. 

“Y/N.” Harry doesn’t remember at what point the tears started to flow, his eyes sting and he’s sure they’re red, but he couldn’t care less. 

He takes a step forward, his hand instinctively reaching out. 

She doesn’t look at him, though. Instead, she kneels over the storage bench located at the foot of the bed. 

“Y/N,” he tries again, “please. Talk t'me pet." 

Still nothing. 

"I hope you don’t mind me taking these,” she mumbles, holding up a select handful of vinyls.

“Can take 'em all f'ye’ wan’. But jus’ look at me!” He’s desperate, he thinks she can sense that by the way she nearly slams the top down. 

“Just these." 

The seconds pass by with Harry now standing over her, and Y/N motionless, her elbows on the bench and head in her hands. 

He runs a hand through his disheveled hair and over his tired face. 

"S'not what ye’ think.” His voice is soft as he kneels down next to her, eyes trying to search her hidden face for any sign that he can keep going. 

“Didn’t mean for it t'happen,” he continues, testing the waters, “was so out of it, pet. I’d been drinking and I wasn’t thinking and then next-" 

"Harry.” His name gets caught in her throat.


"No Harry." 

Her head whips up, tilting to look at him. 

Harry lets out a slight whimper at the sight of a glossy eyed Y/N, features dejected.

She sucks in a breath, but it does nothing to mask her trembling voice. "You can’t do what you did and expect me to willingly sit around and wait for you to justify it. I don’t want to hear how much of a mistake it was. I don’t want you to tell me that you didn’t mean for it to happen." 

She allows the tears to fall freely, wiping at her cheeks only once before tucking the strands that stick to them behind her ear. 

"I know. I know there’s nothin’ I can say t'justify wha’ I did. But, please, ye’ have to let me make this up t'ye. I promise it won’t 'appen again." 

He looks at her with doleful eyes, the corners of his lips pulled down. 

"No, Harry.” It’s almost a whine, a defeated whine that tugs at his heart and has her looking away from him. 

“Y/N,” he calls out, eyes begging to have her attention back in him, “I love you.”

She looks at him almost painstakingly, chest heaving as she keeps the sobs at bay. 

“I loved you, too Harry. I loved you to the point I let you go once if it meant you’d be happy. I loved you so much that sometimes I thought no one could ever understand it. I loved you too much to ever do anything that would jeopardize what we had. And I trusted you,” she nods her head disapprovingly, “I trusted you with everything and honestly, you were the last person I could ever imagine would hurt me purposely." 

"But I didn’t-” he’s shaking his head furiously, knowing every second that passes is closer to having her walk out of his life if he doesn’t do anything about it.

“But you did. You did, and you hid it and it hurts." By this point, Y/N thinks it useless to try and regain control of her emotions. 

He reaches out to touch her face only to have her abruptly stand up, palm landing at the side of her hip. 

He could feel she would have walked away, if not for the touch. 

He looks up at her pleadingly. 

"I don’t want to lose you.” He admits, broken-heartedly. 

And oh how Y/N wishes she hand never stepped foot in this place. She should have just sent someone to retrieve her stuff, hell she might have just left everything here all for the sake of forgetting. 

But she knew it wasn’t gonna be easy. She knew she would need some sort of closure. 

“You lost me the moment you slept with her.”

If you’ve stuck around this long, I owe you a massive thank you for putting up with having to wait so long between updates. I appreciate every single one of you! I cannot express how grateful I am that there’s people out there that like reading what I put out. I love you all too much!!(:

LouM xx

i just want someone to love me so much i’d know that even in bad times we could make it through anything. so much that even when we’re up in age he’d still have to catch his breath when he looked at me. so much that even if we both had the worst day of our lives we knew we would still have each other. so much that even if it was late i know i could call at anytime if i really needed. so much that even if we were thousands of miles apart i’d never have to worry about infidelity because we’d trust each other enough. so much that i’d never have to question his love for me because i’d see it in his smiles and the way his “i love you’s” rolled off his tongue and in his eyes when he told me about his day and when he made breakfast on sundays. most importantly i’d see it simply in the way he looked at me—like i was his whole fucking world.
—  am i asking for too much

She Tastes like Candlelight 



It starts with, of all things, a pair of old jeans and a t-shirt.

Logically, he knows it doesn’t make sense. She comes to work in form-fitted jackets that go tight about her waist. She’s been foregoing the baggy slacks in favor of skirts that stop just below the knees, with nylons clinging to the defined musculature of her calves; he’s pretty sure he can count on one hand the number of times he’s seen her wear shoes other than heels, excluding the clinical, white shoes she wears with her scrubs during autopsies.

He’s seen the looks she gets. Sometimes, it’s during an interview, when a witness’s gaze will linger just a little too long on her bustline, and her hand will go up and fiddle with her necklace, her arm blocking her chest in subtle defiance. Other times, it’s men on the streets of the city, shouting out obscenities to her, having the audacity to call her “baby,” and “sweetheart,” and he fights the urge to yell right back, brandishing his badge and his gun, wanting to scare the misogyny right out of the bones of anyone who thinks they’re entitled to her body, but he knows that she would find it condescending. “Thank you, but I can handle myself, Mulder,” she’d say, and it’s not that he thinks she can’t—he just doesn’t want her to have to.

And still other times, the looks come not from strangers on the sidewalk, or from people he can reduce to photos in a casefile, but from their peers. Educated, talented men who transform themselves into slobbery, teenage boys when sitting adjacent to her in meetings, eyeing her with an inappropriate hunger while she jots down notes in the margins of her agenda sheet. More than once, Mulder has found himself in the elevator with a man who will look down at Scully, and then catch Mulder’s eye over the top of her head, just so that he can wink, including him in some inside joke he has no interest being a part of.

He supposes that he empirically knows that Scully is attractive—it’s more or less objective fact—but he’s never allowed himself to notice. He’s trained himself to observe her through a filter. He considers her appearance through what he aptly names the Sexual Harassment Video Gaze. He quickly shuts down any thought that could be used as an example in a training tape on inappropriate office behavior.

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“Dear sixth guns,
There are a lot of you that feel trapped, plenty of you whose depression is so indescribable that when someone asks you what’s wrong, you can’t explain it so you just say you’re fine. There are times where you feel like there’s only one way out, but before you even consider the possibility of taking the next step, just know this: you are not alone. Even though oceans may seperate us, we’re still here for you. We make this music for you, write these lyrics for you. All of you made us who we are, and we have a bond with each and every one of you. Even though you feel like we’re thousand miles away, we’re still apart of you just like you’re apart of us. We share one sky, one moon, the same stars. We love you and no matter what happens, we’ll continue on with our passion for music to touch your hearts, and we’ll always let you know that you’re not alone in this. We’re all heretics, we’re in this together. Please, stay strong and never hesitate to send us fanmail because even though we can’t respond to every single letter, we read them and we love hearing from you. All of us worry about each one of you and we want nothing more than happiness for you. Every single sixth gun out there is what keeps us going, and we’ll continue to keep you going as well. We love you, never forget that.
Tomorrow does not disappear.
Love, Aoi.”


HSM3 Song Lyrics Meme Pt. 1

Now or Never

  • “Are you ready?”
  • “Are you with me?”
  • “The way we play tonight is what we leave behind.”
  • “It all comes down to right now.”
  • “It’s up to us.”
  • “This is the last time to get it right.”
  • “History will know who we are.”
  • “It’s now or never.”

Right Here Right Now

  • “Can you imagine what would happen if we could have any dream?”
  • “I wish this moment was our to own and that it would never leave.”
  • “Where you are is where I should be too.”
  • “I’ll promise you somehow.”
  • “But right now there’s you and me.”
  • “We’ve already proved it works.”
  • “But in 2123 hours, a bend in the universe is gonna make everything in our whole world change.”
  • “I’m looking at you and my heart loves the view.”
  • “You mean everything.”
  • “So let’s make every second last.”

I Want It All

  • “Imagine having everything we ever dreamed.”
  • “Do you want it?”
  • “With you we can win!”
  • “Bigger is better and better is bigger.”
  • “A little bit is never enough.”
  • “You gotta have your star on the door.”
  • “Here in the spotlight we shine.”

Can I Have This Dance 

  • “Take my hand, take a breath.”
  • “Pull me close and take one step.”
  • “Keep your eyes locked on mine.”
  • “It’s like catching lightning the chances of finding someone like you.”
  • “It’s one in a million the chances of feeling the way we do.”
  • “And with every step together we just keep on getting better.”
  • “Don’t be afraid, afraid to fall.”
  • “Can I have this dance?”
  • “Every turn will be safe with me.”
  • “You know I’ll catch you through it all.”
  • “Even a thousand miles can’t keep us apart.”
  • “My heart is wherever you are.”
  • “No mountain's too high and no ocean’s too wide.”
  • “Let it rain, let it pour.”
  • “What we have is worth fighting for.”
  • “You know I believe that we were meant to be.”

A Night To Remember

  • “Guess now it’s official.”
  • “Don’t panic.”
  • “Panic!”
  • “Do we have to dress up for the prom?”
  • “I don’t think we have a choice.”
  • “We’re dressing to impress the boys.”
  • “Do i want classic or vintage or plaid?”
  • “Where’s the mirror?”
  • “It makes me look weird.”
  • “Been waiting all our lives for this.”
  • “It’s gonna be a night to remember!”
  • “Big fun!”
  • “We’ll never ever ever forget.”
  • “It’s getting later we should already be there.”
  • “I’m shaking inside.”
  • “Then something changes my world.”
  • “The most beautiful girl right in front of my eyes.”
  • “Who’s that girl/guy?”

Just Wanna Be With You

  • “I got a lot of things I’ve got to do.”
  • “Our future’s coming soon.”
  • “I’m being pulled a hundred different directions.”
  • “But whatever happens, I know I’ve got you.”
  • “You’re on my mind, you’re in my heart.”
  • “It doesn’t matter where we are.”
  • “We’ll be alright, even if we’re miles apart.”
  • “All I wanna do is be with you.”
  • “There’s nothing we can’t do.”
  • “No matter where life takes us nothing can break us apart.”
  • “You know how life can be, it changes overnight.”
  • “A friend like you always makes it easy.”
  • “Through every up and every down, you know I’ll always be around.”
  • “Through anything you can count on me.”

Can I have this dance…

Take my hand, I’ll take the lead
And every turn will be safe with me
Don’t be afraid, afraid to fall
You know I’ll catch you through it all

And you can’t keep us apart (even a thousand miles, can’t keep us apart)
‘Cause my heart is wherever you are

It’s like catching lightning the chances of finding someone like you
It’s one in a million, the chances of feeling the way we do
And with every step together, we just keep on getting better
So can I have this dance (can I have this dance)

Can I have this dance

Oh no mountains too high enough, oceans too wide
'Cause together or not, our dance won’t stop
Let it rain, let it pour
What we have is worth fighting for
You know I believe, that we were meant to be

the plan was this:

time, nails marking backs with a promise,
whispers of  "I love you" between kisses
staying up to watch the sunrise in tangled sheets
bitten lips, possessive bruises reading like devotion 

instead we get:

jealous stars, sweating fingers stroking skin with a cut off vow
thoughts of “I love you” between goodbyes
watching the sunset from a thousand miles apart
bitten nails, radio calls where your name sounds like a plea

—  Somewhere We Got Lost by Abby S

McGee: Tony, what’s going on? Do you have a drinking problem?
Tony: No. No, I just I joined this men’s support group. Meets in the church hall two nights a week.
McGee: You serious?!
Tony: I know, it it doesn’t sound like me, but with the past year, I just wanted to shake things up a little bit.

So Tony is so messed up by his quasi-breakup with Ziva that he is essentially in therapy now.



I want a love like:

Ross and Rachel

Kim and Ron

Lizzie and Gordo

Fred and Wilma

Sailor Moon and Tuxedo Mask

Ellie and Carl

Zoey and Chase

The Doctor and Rose

Amy and Rory

I want the love that goes through thousand years and never gives up, the love that comes from a great friendship, the love that can go through the hard times and still bounce back because of our love, the love that can stay strong thousand of miles apart, the love that can take being universes apart and still be in love, that can take death and still love each other. I CRAVE that love.

Thank You To The Future

If the future could talk, it’d tell Chloe not to worry.

That they would have kids. They would move into a big house, get married, have successful jobs and be happy together. They would get engaged on accident, over a cup of coffee spilling on a magazine with both their faces plastered on and an engagement ring falling from underneath the table it was duct taped to. They would date for two and a half years, fight over careers at least twice, live three thousand miles apart, and Skype every day. They would meet outside the airport and kiss in the rain after a long fight. The would have a moment at the annual Bellas get-together. They’d be the strongest friends that either had ever had.

If the future could talk, it’d tell Chloe all these things would happen in due time. 

But for now? Now Chloe was sitting at the wedding rehearsal dinner of one Beca Mitchell, smiling painfully at the couple.

“You should say something,” Emily, of all people, leaned over to whisper during faux speeches.

Chloe’s eyes immediately snapped off the radiating couple, looking at the small brunette who reminded her so much of Beca.


Emily shrugged. “You should say something. I know you two are both too headstrong and stubborn to admit it, but you guys love each other. You’re meant for each other.”

Chloe doesn’t say anything to the brunette, instead getting up from the table and walking outside the fancy hotel’s ballroom to ‘catch air’.

In the end, it’s not Chloe who says something after all.

It’s not Emily either, much to the redhead’s surprise.

It was Benji, the quiet observer and ever present best man, who burst into the groom’s bedroom the night before the wedding and demanded he call off the wedding.

Chloe doesn’t really know how the conversation went, but as she sat on the cold and wet steps outside the church they were set to marry with the bride’s head resting on her shoulder, she can’t bring herself to imagine it either.

After their breakup Beca moved to LA almost without a word. Chloe was in New York with a sick gig on Broadway doing what she loved, and somehow after the almost-wedding the two of them became close friends again.

(again as in after they hadn’t talked for a year after graduation and Beca suddenly invited her to the wedding without so much as a phone call in between)

Chloe and Beca talked everyday either over phone calls, texts, or sometimes a Skype call.

Chloe informed the brunette of each time her name popped up in conversation at work (“Becs they were talking about your latest hit with Taylor Swift and I had to use literally, like, all of my will power not to tell them how close we are!!”) and the brunette would scoff loudly.

Beca liked to tease the redhead each time one of those conversations started (“and how close are we, hm?”) and to that the redhead would giggle and tell the younger girl how they’re ‘fast friends’.

The point is, the two of them talked constantly about everything, and by the end of the first month after Beca’s almost-wedding the two of them could ease ‘best friend’ into the conversation with not so much as a hesitation.

They had an annual Bella reunion two months later that Chloe made the brunette promise to attend.

(“You didn’t come last year, Becs!”

“I was reasonably busy!”

“No you weren’t. Now come on. Pleeeeeeeease?”

“… fine.”)

When they both found themselves at the Atlanta airport there was a loud squeal and the redhead jumped into the brunette’s arms, causing both of their baggage to topple over.

“We are so taking the same cab to Emily’s!”

Beca just hugged the redhead a little tighter before grabbing both suitcases and making her way to where her car was waiting.

“I got a driver,” Beca shrugged as the two got in.

And it was like no time had passed since the last time they saw each other. The two sat comfortably in the car and exchanged storied from their plane rides as they rode to Emily’s apartment.

To say a ‘moment’ occurred between them would be the biggest understatement of the century.

All the girls caught up and chatted for hours and hours before Beca excused herself outside.

Chloe found the brunette sitting on the front steps outside of the building, playing with matches like a teenager.

“What’re you doing, pyro?” Chloe giggled as she sat beside the brunette.

Beca squashed a lit match under her foot and looked up at the redhead, scoffing lightly. “I’m not Lilly.”

“Yeah?” Chloe took the box from Beca and lit one herself. “That may be true but you are setting fires out here.”

Beca laughed a sweet laugh as she watched Chloe wet her fingers and pinch the flame out. “Hot.”

Not knowing whether the comment was about Chloe’s fire extinguishing abilities, the fire itself, or Chloe in general, the two stared at each other in awkward closeness for a silent moment.

Just as the two started getting closer Chloe opened her mouth to speak. 

“Beca I-”

And it was interrupted by the front door opening and Amy stumbling out drunk off her ass with a bottle of tequila in each hand.

“Oh. Hey Bhloe!” She momentarily stopped before making her way down the stairs and running in the street screaming.

Whatever she was doing, it was enough to stop their ‘moment’.

They didn’t talk about it until they saw each other three months later.

Beca was coming to New York for business so she called up Chloe, asking if she knew of any places to stay.

The redhead of course demanded Beca stay with her for the duration of her visit - a total of four and a half weeks.

(“That’s crazy!”

“I am not letting you rent a hotel room in New York for a month, Beca!”

“I have… money!”

“Beca. No. It’s not trouble, really. Come on!”

“At least let me get rent?”

“You’re not paying for a single thing, Becs!”)

The stay was the most fun either of them had in a long, long time. Quickly Chloe’s quaint two bedroom apartment became a domesticated home. Neither of them really thought about what would happen when Beca had to leave.

Until Beca had to leave.

Then they fought.

“Beca?” Chloe came into her guest room holding a few pieces of paper on her last night as Beca packed up.

“Yeah?” The brunette hardly looked up from her packing.

There was a long pause. “What the hell is this?”

Beca stopped her motions and looked up, face flushing pale as she saw the paper her best friend was holding.


She was abruptly cut off by the redhead’s screeching. “It looks like you paid my fucking rent, Beca.”

The brunette scrambled to her feet, backing up in the room as the redhead closed in on her.

“It looks like you paid for the next six months, Beca,” Chloe continued.

Pretty soon the two of them were in a full on fight. Chloe didn’t ask Beca to pay for anything. Told her not to, actually. 

Beca had told Chloe she was trying to be an equal here. That she made more money, it was only fair.

Chloe had yelled about them not being in a relationship. Them not needing to be equals. She screamed about Beca making more money and how it was wrong to say.

They fought all night until Beca’s stuff was packed and they didn’t have any other reason to stay. Beca grabbed her suitcase and walked out of Chloe’s apartment at nine fifteen PM, hailing a cab to the airport for her eleven PM flight in the worst storm either had seen in a while.

Their time together, the most pleasant month of all, had ended on the most sour of notes. Chloe walked back into her now-empty guest room (which had remained almost always unoccupied as the brunette tended to stay in Chloe’s bed) and she sighed loudly.


This wasn’t how it was going to end.

Rushing to the airport at nine twenty-five to catch an eleven o’clock flight was risky. Rushing at nine forty-three was downright manic. And Chloe’s ten sixteen rush was insane. But there she was, driving down the freeway at ten sixteen trying to get to her best friend.

“Beca!” She called as she saw the brunette cross the street to enter the airport.

(for a moment Chloe wondered how she caught up to the brunette - how Beca drove an hour earlier and they caught up just now - but she decided not to press on)

The brunette turned her head and saw Chloe rush towards her, furrowed brows quickly quirking in surprise when the redhead reached her.

“I love you, I’m sorry, I love you,” Chloe rushed out, grabbing the back of Beca’s neck and bringing her in for a passionate kiss in the rain.

They decided they were both mature enough to handle a long distance relationship.

They Skype called every day, almost.

Beca had so many stories of stress and celebrities and music that it filled Chloe’s heart with joy to be talking to the brunette. The very famous up and coming brunette.

Chloe talked on and on about her work on Broadway. How the show she was working on was supposed to be amazing and how she couldn’t wait until Beca got a chance to see it.

They Skype called every day, almost.

They lived three thousand miles apart and it took a tole on them in other ways than just distance.

They hadn’t had a chance to even be physical other than that one kiss in the rain since dating. 

And while they did Skype each other almost every day and there were… other ways of being intimate (such as over webcam) the two of them started to get frustrated with each other and the distance.

They had at least two big fights since they started dating six months prior. Both were about their careers (though in actuality about the distance their careers put between them) and they both ended with ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘I love you’ and ‘we’ll get through this’.

They did. They got through them. Chloe and Beca both had important jobs that neither were really willing to give up for the other (okay, well, maybe they were but neither wanted the other to have to give up anything) and so they understood the situations well.

Nine months later when Chloe’s musical premiered Beca showed up. And so did a bunch of talent agents, who quickly signed Chloe on to be an actress that could also (bonus!) sing.

Nine months later when Chloe’s musical premiered she was signed to be an actress, moving her across the country to LA, staying about three blocks from her girlfriend, effectively stopping their distance and intimacy problems. 

They dated for some amount more months, marking the two and a half year milestone between them.

Beca had just turned twenty five a week prior when she and her girlfriend were sitting at Beca’s kitchen table in her swanky LA penthouse apartment.

“You want some coffee?” Beca asked as she bit into her morning toast.

“Yeah I’ll get it,” Chloe reached for the pot of coffee sitting on the table, accidentally bumping into it.

Beca laughed as she settled the table. “Careful.”

The two continued to eat their breakfasts, Chloe laughing at the cover of one of the magazines she had bought on her run to the store earlier in the morning. It was a tabloid with both of their faces on it, talking about Hollywood’s newest ‘it’ couple.

Since the redhead moved to LA give or take a year earlier, Chloe signed onto a bunch of new movies and even landed herself a recurring role on one of NBC’s biggest new sitcoms.

(Beca would wrap her arms around Chloe’s waist and whisper “you’re a big time celebrity on a big time sitcom like Friends or Scrubs now”)

Chloe smiled at the magazine before opening the cover and spewing her coffee from her mouth all over the table at the title of the article on them. “Hollywood’s Newest ‘It’ Couple on the Fritz?!”

With all her commotion, Beca jerked forward and spilled her cup of coffee all over the table, soaking the magazine and their breakfasts as her two month old German Shepherd / Husky puppy Beast came running over to lick up the spillover.

(Chloe got a Golden Retriever / Labrador puppy named Bella at the same time Beca got Beast)

With all the bumping around Beast’s head knocked into the table and a soft ‘thud’ caused both of the women to stop what they were doing and look down.

Because there, wrapped in two flimsy pieces of duct tape meant to stick it to the bottom of the table was a small, velvet box.

“Oh my god, Beca,” Chloe’s shocked voice snapped them both from their gaze as Beast finished licking up the spilled coffee and ran back over to the couch where he was lounging with Bella before.

“It’s not what it looks like,” Beca sputtered, grabbing the box and peeling the tape off of it.

“Were you going to propose?” Chloe asked, snatching the box from the brunette and inspecting it.

“Well eventually!” Beca said, watching as Chloe flipped the box open to reveal the most beautiful princess cut wedding ring the redhead had ever seen.

“Oh my god, Beca, it’s-”

“Marry me, Chloe Beale.”

Chloe looked away from the ring to see Beca kneeling now, a hopeful look on her face.

“Of course,” Chloe said softly, kneeling down next to her girlfriend (fiancée) and kissing her sweetly as they slid the ring on together.

They were so, so happy.

For a while they were. Growing more and more happy with each passing day since their engagement as both their careers sky rocketed. They were so, so happy together and when they went ring shopping for Beca neither one really cared that a flock of thirty paparazzi stood outside the doors.

The were happy and that’s all that mattered.

When they got married outside in the warm May weather, both of them vowed to always be honest, be willing, be in love.

When they went on their honeymoon the day after their May 15th wedding, they giddily said ‘goodbye’ to their families and friends and boarded the private plane that flew them to Spain and then Rome for two weeks.

When they came back home to their new home together, a beautiful two story five bedroom house overlooking the ocean with a pool in the backyard and plenty of running space for their pups (and future kids), they kissed and Chloe carried her wife over the threshold.

When Chloe was twenty nine and Beca was twenty six they had their first child. Her name was Alexis “Lexie” Rose Mitchell. She was beautiful with bright blue eyes and light brown hair, resembling the mother that she didn’t come from very well.

Chloe loved her daughter more than the world, and it seemed like, if possible, Beca loved her even more than that.

Which is why the decision to have another child two years later came easy. Beca would give birth that time, and it wouldn’t be Lexie’s second sibling. It would be her second and third.

Two little boys named Edward “Eddie” Lucas and Mason Eric Mitchell. They looked just like their redheaded mother, since the sperm donor was a close lookalike of Chloe - her brother.

(Eric Beale had never wanted children, so helping his little sister have a baby that shared the same DNA as her and her wife came as a no-brainer. Something that the eldest Beale, Ethan, would make fun of him for until the end of time)

Their family felt complete. Two dogs, three children, a big house and amazing jobs.

So when Beca brought up one more child it sort of freaked Chloe out. Luckily enough, the redhead’s wife was reassuring and loving and honest, things she vowed to do so many years ago.

Their last child, Isabella “Izzy” Aubrey Mitchell, made their family feel really complete.

Finally, everything fell into place.

If the future could talk, it’d tell Chloe not to worry.

That she’d had kids. She’d moved into a big house, gotten married, had successful jobs and was happy together. She’d gotten engaged on accident, over a cup of coffee spilling on a magazine with both their faces plastered on and an engagement ring falling from underneath the table it was duct taped to. She’d dated for two and a half years, fought over careers at least twice, lived three thousand miles apart, and Skype called every day. She’d met outside the airport and kissed in the rain after a long fight. She’d had a moment at the annual Bellas get-together. She’d been the strongest friends that either had ever had.

If the future could talk, it’d tell Chloe all these things happened in due time.

And Chloe would thank it.

When we’re thousands of miles apart with the ocean trying to separate us, and you drop one tear, I will swim to you.
—  Lexi Caccetta // 9-5-15

Title: Captain

Warnings: None

Requests: Hey if your requests are open could you do a Morgan Rielly one where you are visiting him from college…you haven’t seen him in a while bc you go to college in Texas so he is like super cuddly/fluffy?

Could you do a Morgan Rielly one? You can write whatever you want about him I just want a Morgan Rielly one lol 😊

Could you do like Morgan Rielly one where you get into a big fight but then make up?

Note: Let me know what you think!

Links: My Master List  and My Current Requests

“What the fuck, Morgan.” you muttered, tossing your phone angrily across your room and onto the bed. You knew he was busy, but the fact he couldn’t even manage to return your phone calls over the past week was aggravating as hell. A few texts weren’t going to cut it. You scanned the room, your eyes settling on the duffle bag tucked into the corner of your dorm room. Fine. If he wasn’t going to answer your phone calls, you were going to go home and figure out why. Shoving some clothes in a bag, you mumbled to yourself, reasoning that you were a good enough student to miss a day or two of classes.

Eight hours later you were sitting on your childhood bed, waiting for Morgan to respond to your latest text. Your anger was almost at its boiling point when your phone vibrated, Morgan’s face flashing across the screen.

“Hello?” you grumbled into the phone.

“Hi, babe.”

“Don’t ‘babe’ me, Morgan. I’ve been calling you all week.”

“I know, I’m sorry, I’ve just been really busy.” he said.

“Too busy to answer one fucking phone call?!” you growled. “We’re thousands of miles apart and I can’t get a return call?”

“I’m sorry, (Y/N). I don’t know what else you want me to say…”

“I want an explanation, a real reason you couldn’t find the time to call me. I’m in the middle of finals, I work two jobs, but I manage to call you whenever I get a chance. If you don’t fucking care about me anymore, just tell me.”

“What? (Y/N), I love you. This is the first time I’ve ever fucked up our calling schedule. I’m sorry.”

“Fuck you and fuck your meaningless apologies.”

“Can you stop being an asshole for one minute?” he asked; his patience running out.

“No.” you snapped. Pressing the end call button.

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