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The 25th Letter

here’s my second one shot(ps it’s super sad) and i just want to thank you all for all the love and support on Professor Hiddleston and i hope you guys enjoy this one just as much :)

concept: when you get ripped out of tom’s life with no warning, he decides to write you letters.

word count: 1,408

warnings: super sad//talks about death

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Empty, I felt completely empty and alone. It didn’t matter that 6 months had flown by just like that. It didn’t matter the countless letters I have sent her since the moment I got the news. It didn’t matter, none of this did. It didn’t matter to others that 6 months ago the love of my life was ripped out of my fucking arms and killed, leaving me completely alone and empty. But here I am, writing my 25th letter to her, I write to her every week knowing that she won’t actually read it.

Dear my Princess,

It’s Tom again, I don’t even know why I say who I am because deep down I know that you won’t ever see this, you won’t ever open this and you won’t ever read it. I have so much to say and I find myself everyday that passes that I have more and more and more to say. I want to say how angry I am. At myself, at the driver in the other car, at you, at the universe, at every single person. Mad at myself for getting angry at you over a stupid fight about the laundry and how I caused you to want to leave the house so badly that you did. Mad at you for getting in your car and driving away to go to your best friend’s house for the night. Mad at the other driver in their car because they hit you on your side of the car and instantly caused your death. Mad at the universe for deciding it was your time to go when I know it for sure was NOT. Mad at every single person because they didn’t die but you did and they’re still alive and able to go home to the love of their lives and to go see their family and to laugh and smile and to be able to just breathe.

I lay awake most nights waiting for the sound of your keys unlocking the front door and walking in and give me some sort of signal that you just want to be home. I lay awake every night holding your pillow hoping that your scent will stay there forever but knowing that your scent is fading every day. I refuse to wash your clothes, in fact they’re still hanging up in your closet. I refuse to lose the scent of you because walking into our room and being able to have something of yours give me a sign that you’re still here when you aren’t, gives me some sort of motivation to still get out of bed the next day and still go to work even though I don’t want to. I refuse to take your pictures off the wall and refuse to take down all the little things you hung around the house, it gives me the feeling that you’re just gone for the night and that maybe, just maybe you’ll come home in the morning. I refuse to accept the fact that you were ripped from my arms forever and won’t be coming home.

I miss holding you at night, holding your waist in my arms and knowing that you would be there when I woke up. I miss breakfast with you, when I would make us pancakes and you’d make the coffee and tea and cut the fruit. I miss surprising you with your favorite flowers when I know you’ve had a stressful day. I miss watching movies with you at night, when you’d fall asleep on my chest and I would carry you to our room and place you under the covers softly so I wouldn’t wake you up. I miss your voice so much.

I miss the way it would sound raspy in the morning when you giggled and said “good morning”. I miss the way it sounds over the phone. I miss the way it sounds when you told me “I love you” and went to give me a kiss. I miss your kisses, so, so much. I miss the way your soft lips felt against mine. I miss the sweet sugary taste of your lips. I miss your touch, you gave me a sense of safety and love and warmth that nobody had ever given me before. I miss the spark we had, we were electricity and heat, and now that you’re gone it’s all static and cold. I miss the way I’d be able to rub my thumb on your palm in circles when I would hold your hand.

I miss the way you’d sit by the window on rainy days and had a book open, reading while listening to the rain against the window. ‘Pitter, patter, pitter, patter, pitter, patter.’ I hate the rain now, because you’re gone. I miss the playlists you’d make me when you felt inspired. I miss your hair, as weird as that may sound. I miss playing with it, it was so soft. I miss the sweet brown sugar smell of your shampoo. I miss the moments of you lounging around in one of my shirts that fell giant on you and you had your hair up in a messy bun. I miss reading Shakespeare plays out loud with you just to be goofy. I miss seeing Shakespeare productions with you, my god you loved them so much.

I would give anything in this world to have a second chance of that night. To stop you from walking out that door and getting in that car and getting into that accident. To stop you from losing you. When I got the call that you had been in an accident, my world crumbled right there. I rushed as fast as I could and when I got there they told me you were gone and I screamed. I screamed in pain and anger and shock. I walked straight over to that driver and I screamed at him for hitting you, for taking your life away.

Nobody on scene could calm me down, I was a wreck. Your best friend showed up too and she had it more together than i ever did at that place. I watched as they tore open the car and found your body. My heart broke the second I got the call, but watching them show me you were really gone, that shattered my heart into millions of pieces. The day of your funeral came around and that night I got so drunk and I went to bed and I woke up the next morning with a big slap to my face, it was official, you wouldn’t be coming back at all. I wonder all the time what was going on in your head up until the moment you got hit. Did you hate me? Did you want to leave me? Did you still love me? I didn’t even get to say “I love you” before you walked out that door. I wonder if you wanted to turn around and just come home. I wonder so much about what was going on in your head and I wish you could just tell me, to put me out of my misery.

They say that time is supposed to heal you but it hasn’t changed a thing. You’re still my princess, my baby girl, my love of my life, my partner in crime, my baby, mine. I just needed you to know this, need you to see this and to read this. I just needed you to know..

I should have said this when you were still here.

Love you so much,

Your Tom

I place the folded letter into the light blue envelope and close it. On the front I write your name and on the back, on the part where the card gets sealed, I write the last line of the letter. “I should have said this when you were still here.” I get out of my car and walk over to your spot, your burial in the grass and I place that letter on your tombstone with your favorite flowers, daisies, my hands shaking as I place the items down. Tears slid down my cheek and I screamed, no words, just a long, pained sound.

“I love you, baby. I’m so sorry.”

I stand up and turn around, my feet struggling to work, and get back into my car to drive home to the empty hole in my heart.

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-Viper

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Baby’s Trunk: First Look

Pilot, 1.01

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Reblog if you are:

- gay

-secretly a turnip disguised as a human

-stressed

-wearing PJs

- vegetarian

- furry

no one will ever know which one

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Pencil and Paper- Steve Rogers

Artist!Steve Rogers x Reader AU

Summary: Having no artistic ability whatsoever, you enroll in an art class to learn and attempt to master the craft. In your class, you manage to meet someone who turns your world upside down… and sketches it.

Warnings: toooo much fluff

WC: 2,611

AN: so um this is my first non-angst and my first AU. I was actually very inspired by @invisibleanonymousmonsters ‘ Biker!Bucky AU which was OUTSTANDING I would definitely go check that out! But yeah I was really inspired by one of the scenes and so this dumb idea popped into my head and here we are!

You loved art. You loved how you can express so much through something as little as a brushstroke or a line. It was delicate yet immense, subtle yet extravagant. A neverending paradox of emotions and visions.

Too bad you had zero artistic ability whatsoever. So, you had no idea what moved you so much as to sign up for your first art class.

You paced your apartment living room, making a mental packing list of what you need and trying your best to make sure you didn’t forget anything. But knowing you, you probably would forget something.

You checked your watch and sighed in annoyance as you had three hours before your class even began. You walk over to the window and looked out at the busy streets and the skyscrapers in the distance.

It was a nice June afternoon in Manhattan, and you didn’t want it to go to waste. You packed your bag, grabbed your keys, phone and wallet and made your way to the door.

After locking the door you turn and head down the hall and to the elevators. On your way, you happened to bump into your neighbor, Wanda.

“Oh hey, Wanda! I almost didn’t see you there!”, you said as she approached the elevators, “How have you been?”.

“I’ve been alright, (Y/N)! How are you?”, she asked while reaching for a hug.

“I’m alright. I’m actually heading out to my very first art class!”, you said with a smile on your face, meanwhile, butterflies were still going crazy in your stomach.

“Oh, really? Are you going to the ones that are being offered at the Art Studio down on 20th Avenue? I’ve heard that Steve goes there a lot… have you met Steve?”, Wanda rambled on.

Keep reading

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THIS IS AN IMPORTANT ONE! Don’t ignore this in your writing!

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nobody can save you but yourself and you’re worth saving it’s a war not easily won but if anything is worth winning then this is it

think about. think about saving your self.

~ charles bukowski

#worldsuicidepreventionweek

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You Are Going To Have So Much Success In 2018 (pass it on)

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Sending kisses!

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@postmodernmulticoloredcloak, excuse you, but are you telling me that Dean can be more than one thing at once? 

That he can be both a hug monster

and closed-off

That Dean can be both rough

and tender

Both resentful 

and forgiving

Both cautious

and reckless

Both abrasive

and gentle

That he can be both childlike

and full of wisdom

both vulnerable

and cocky

Both fearful 

and brave

That Dean can be a badass, take no shit monster hunter

while also being the softest boy

I’m sorry but I just don’t see it. 

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hii are there any instances where you can prove dean raised sam?

Well, you can check out the entirety of my parental unit dean tag. which is all about the unfair burden dean was forced to take on, filling in the parental role when John was absent, sometimes for weeks at a time: 

There are many more examples in that tag. If you mean did Dean take care of Sam all by himself, then the answer is no because John was there too (and so was Bobby and apparently, pastor Jim) when he wasn’t off hunting for weeks at a time but even then Dean seems to have taken on more of a partner role to John than a child role

But I think all the proof you really need is here when the show finally put it into words:

So, yes, there is definitive proof that Dean filled the role of both mother and father to Sam, which means he helped raise him. 

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Jensen Ackles | SPN S13, BTS [x]

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Reblog this if you love and support Genevieve Padalecki and Danneel Ackles ❤️

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endless gifs of dean being adorable 

the way he talks to himself is one of my favorite things | 13.06

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