#catch me rereading this later in bed sobbing again

[donald4spiderman]

Ok hear me out. Spencer is dating Reader and she’s always hated that she’s been more chubby/curvy. And one night in the middle of a case she calls him crying and Spencer just gets really soft and calms her down after a bad nightmare. And his heart breaks cause his loving girlfriend hates her body. So Spencer plans this elaborate date and proposes maybe? You can decide if the team have met her or not. I’d like it to be the original team but if you wanna combine the original and new teams together that’s cool too!

no bc my body image issues have been rampant lately so this is personal as hell to me. I work out a lot and i’m fit but i’ve never been SKINNY like i have thick legs and muscular arms andnnfnfjndjnffn so this is personal.

I modified this a bit but it’s still the same premises hope you like it! ***BTW IN THIS UNIVERSE THE S3-7 CAST EXISTS FOR THE ENTIRE SHOW— SO THE LATER SEASONS HAVE MORGAN AND HOTCH.

also sorry this is a long

TW: body image issues, discussions of food & weight, insecurity, crying, kissing

WC: 1.5k

-

You know, pragmatically, that you have nothing to worry about. Spencer chose you. And for the past four years, Spencer has worshipped you every day— again and again. He is the most loving, considerate, and tender partner you could ever wish for. He is near perfection.

You’ve met Spencer's friends many times. You’re not close with either of your parents, so the team of profilers welcomed you into their arms with grace and care. Each and every one of them is beautifully amazing and exceptionally brilliant.

Spencer‘s friends are not only badass, but they’re also gorgeous. JJ, Emily, and Garcia are national treasures— so visually stunning it’s almost sickening.

You knew he used to have a crush on JJ way before he met you. You’ve also heard the tale of Lila Archer, the celebrity actress who made out with your boyfriend in a pool. Spencer’s had an eventful life, full of beautiful, sweet, magnificent women— so why does he choose you?

You view yourself as bland in comparison. What do you have to offer Spencer that he can’t find elsewhere? You don’t have toned abs, slim hips, and slender arms. You’re not striking in any way.

Spencer calls you every night when he’s away on a case. He’s never missed a call, even when he got shot in the neck and kidnapped by a murderous cult. He’s reliable and consistent, and that eases your worries a little bit.

It’s eleven pm in D.C. and your phone rings right as your getting in bed.

“Hi, my love,” Spencer says breathily, his voice slightly muffled by the phone. He’s away in Ohio for a case.

“Hey.” You reply, the sweetness in his voice soured by your mood. “How’s the case going?”

“Good. JJ and I are about to pass out in our beds— we’re so tired.”

You can’t help the way your face drops. “Oh. Well, get rest.”

Your about to hang up before he interjects. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Why?” You know better than to lie to your boyfriend, who happens to be an expert on human behavior.

“Okay, I know a lie when I hear one. (Y/N), baby, what’s wrong?” He pleads.

You can’t help the tear that rolls down your cheek. “God, I’m sorry. I just miss you so much. You always know what to do when I’m feeling like shit.”

Spencer knows how much you struggle with self and bodily acceptance. He hates the world for making you feel anything less than incredible, both inside and out.

“I miss you too, so much, (Y/N).” His voice is thick as if he’s going to start crying too. “I love you so much, so fucking much. You have no idea how beautiful and amazing you are.”

“I don’t deserve you.”

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” He laughs through a sob that wrecks his body. “You deserve everything in this world. I promise to give you everything you’ve ever wanted. You are the love of my life.”

You wipe the tears from underneath your eyes. “Sorry for keeping you up. You must be tired.”

“Never, if it means I get to talk to you.”

“I love you, Spencer.”

“I love you too, (Y/N). More than you’ll ever know.”

-

Spencer wakes up the next day with a newfound determination. The team solves the case as fast as possible, and by the end of the night, they’ve boarded the jet back home.

Spencer has more than enough hours to think about you and how much you mean to him. Hotch is seated directly across from him, rereading the case files.

“Hotch?” The wiser man looks up from his files, raising an eyebrow.

Spencer pauses for a moment. Maybe he’d be better asking Morgan or JJ for advice, considering Hotch’s tragic circumstances regarding Haley.

But no one loves like Hotch does-- sincerely, passionately-- stronger than anything else in the world. Spencer decides there’s no one better to ask.

“How uh did you know that Haley was the one?”

Hotch’s eyes soften for a bit. He clears his throat. “I knew since the day I met her that I would love her for the rest of my life unconditionally. She makes me complete. Do you feel that (Y/N) makes you complete?”

He already knows why Spencer is asking for his advice, steering the conversation in that direction.

“Yes. She’s my world.” Spencer whispers.

“Then it’s simple, really. Love doesn’t need to be complicated and precise. It’s what you do with it that matters.”

“I want to marry her, Hotch. I want to be with her for the rest of my life.”

Hotch smiles, “Then do it.”

Spencer feels the rush of excitement as he gathers everyone on the jet, including the prior sleeping passengers, filling them in on his big plans.

“I need all of your guys’ help.”

-

There’s a firm knock on your door at four in the morning. You know it isn’t Spencer because he has a key, but who could it be?

You take a cautious look out of your peephole to find Penelope, Emily, and JJ outside.

“What are you guys doing here?” You yawn. “For god's sake, it’s four am.”

“We know, and we’re sorry.” Penelope smiles.

“Is Spencer alright?” You ask, wondering if things suddenly went wrong during the case.

But by the joyous look on their face, you know nothing somber occurred.

“Spencer’s completely fine. But, we need to you to get changed and come with us. FBI’s orders.” JJ chuckles.

You change into warmer clothes in minutes, and the BAU ladies usher you into Emily’s car as fast as possible.

“So, no ones gonna tell me what’s going on?”

They shake their heads, “We’re just... running a quick errand.”

After a few more minutes of driving, Emily parks on the side of a dimly lit street.

“I need you to put this on.” She says, holding up a blindfold.

“Are you guys gonna murder me?” You joke, slipping the fabric over your eyes with little resistance.

“Quite the opposite, actually.” You don’t have time to think about what Penelope means before you’re being yanked out of the car.

You walk, guided by JJ, for four minutes. The grass beneath you crushes below your boots, and the hushed whispers of Emily and Penelope behind you do nothing to calm your nerves.

“Okay,” JJ says, halting to a stop. “You can take off your blindfold now.”

You hesitantly slip the blindfold off, revealing a brightly lit table in the middle of a secluded field. Morgan, Hotch, and Rossi are standing off to the sides.

Suddenly, Spencer emerges from behind a tree, dusting the leaves and dirt off his adorable sweater.

“Hi?” You laugh, utterly confused by this situation. “What’s going on?”

His hands are shaking, and he has to swallow a few times before he can speak. “I-I uh got y-you apple pie— uh your favorite.”

Spencer walks you towards the table, where a small slice of warm pie sits lonely on the table.

“Y-you should um... eat it.” He urges, pointing at the knife and fork next to it.

You glance around, trying to gauge the emotions of everyone around you, but fail. Stupid profilers and their poker faces.

Your fork cuts into the heavenly smelling pie, and you scoop up a bite into your mouth.

“It’s... good? I’ll pretty much eat any pie you give me, Spencer.”

He smiles, “I know that. But t-this is a special pie.”

“Okay...”

“You should t-take a closer look— at the pie.”

You inspect the dessert, completely puzzled until a glinting piece of silver catches your eye. Spencer notices the shock in your face and catches the plate that almost falls out of your hand.

Morgan hands him a napkin, and when Spencer pulls an apple-covered ring from the slice of pie, you almost faint.

“No way.” You gasp; tears spring to your eyes as Spencer wipes the ring clean.

He holds it tightly between two fingers, bending to kneel on one knee.

“(Y/N) (Y/M/N) (Y/L/N), I knew from the moment I met you that you were the most special woman I’d have the pleasure of meeting. A month later, you asked me out for our first date, and I couldn’t believe that someone as gorgeous and amazing as you would settle for someone like me.” You scoff at his humility.

“I spend every moment loving every part of you, (Y/N). None of my love will ever stop— ever. I promise to share my heart with you until the very end. There is absolutely no one I would rather be bonded to for the rest of my life. You are better than my dream girl because you’re real. You’re here, and you chose to love me every day— the good, the bad, and the ugly. (Y/N), will you do me the honor and great privilege of allowing me to become your husband?” You silently sob.

“Please say yes.” Spencer smiles.

“Yes!” You exclaim, pulling him up to hug him. “How could I say anything but!”

The dam breaks, and the entire team begins to cry as you and Spencer share a passionate kiss, almost collapsing down onto the grass from the sheer force of your love. He slips the ring onto your finger; it belongs there.

“I choose you, (Y/N).” He repeats.

“I choose you, Spencer, always.” You whisper into the crook of his neck.

Nothing’s ever felt so right.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #sub!spencer #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #dr reid #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds smut #spence #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfic

[winter-soldier-vibes]

Burnout (Bucky x reader)

“Burnout”

Bucky x reader

Warnings: burnout, overworked, mental breakdown/panic attack

Word count: 3377

A/N: Take care of yourself, burnout is real and you CAN get sick. Trust me. I’m always here if you wanna talk to someone about anything or want another friend. Stay strong <3

Includes: Lyrics from the song “Weight of the World” by Citizen Soldier

Tags: @buckys2thicc @thatfangirl42 @thundering-barnes @abitgryffindorky @ladyfallonavenger

---------

These nights were becoming more common. And that wasn’t a good thing.

You sat at your desk surrounded by papers, empty cans of energy drinks, and a bright laptop screen. You held your head in your hands and you tried to keep your eyes awake, turning the screen brightness higher. 

1:46 AM

You sighed and rubbed your eyes, trying to rub the sleep out of them. You took your hands away and looked back at the screen briefly before covering your face again. 

You lived with the Avengers and were a huge asset to the team. Not only were you enhanced with powers, but you were incredibly intelligent. That being the case, you worked with Tony and Bruce in the lab either developing new ideas or fixing suits after missions. As well as being on the mission yourself. Therefore you trained early every morning with Steve and Bucky. You also did most of the mission reports, switching off with Steve once and a while.

Most nights you could be found either working through paperwork, down in the lab working into the morning with Tony, or researching for new projects in said lab. You never meant to stay up as late as you did, but no matter how hard you worked, more work kept appearing. Every 10 PM soon turned into 2 AM, and you could never quite catch a break. You had turned to caffeine not long ago, quickly using it as a crutch to supplement sleep. 

You had just gotten back from a long mission with the team, and were incredibly sore. Steve hadn’t gone on this mission, leaving you to finish the report. Add to that, Tony wanted to make a better suit for Peter, and Sam’s wings were busted. Tony was working on Peter’s suit, wanting to make it perfect, leaving you with fixing the wings for Sam. 

You decided to work on Sam’s Falcon suit first, seeing that you lived on Planet Earth and he could be scheduled for another mission at any time. What seemed to be superficial damage turned out to be extensive, and required much more repairing that you had anticipated. What you had planned to be a 2 hour process had turned into just over a day of work in the lab. 

Not wanting to lose your place and needing a distraction from the soreness, you had worked for hours straight, only breaking to relieve yourself every so often. You were exhausted and ready to fall asleep when you laid back in your bed. Only to check your notifications and see an email from Fury requesting the mission report immediately.

Sent hours ago.

Which led you to where you were now. You hadn’t slept in almost 48 hours, sore from the mission, with a tedious mission report to fill out. Taking a deep breath, you removed your hands from your face.

 2:07 AM.

You groaned, but brought your hands back to the keyboard and began typing. The words were blurring together and you shook your head a few times trying to stay awake. Somehow, you finished the report and sent it off and looked at the time again.

3:13 AM

You rubbed your temples before climbing back into your bed, sighing out as your eyes filled with tears. It wasn’t uncommon for you to go to bed this late/early. Lately Tony had been coming up with more ideas and would ask you to help. Since Tony works through most of the night, you had learned to do the same. You don’t remember the last time you had more than 3 or 4 hours of sleep. 

You were off the hook for training for a few days, due to having just gotten back from a mission. And while you had been hesitant at first, you were grateful now that you had a bit more time to sleep. Despite the caffeine you had consumed to stay awake, you were absolutely exhausted. Tears threatened to fall from your eyes but you tried to breathe through it. You just wanted a break but couldn’t seem to catch one. 

You curled into yourself as your stomach began to growl. ‘When was the last time I ate?’ you thought. Not that it mattered, there was nothing that could bring you out of your bed at that moment. You drifted off to sleep.

-----

You woke up to your phone chiming and groaned, picking it up to see what was so important. Your eyes find the top message, informing you that the mission report you had submitted was incomplete. You jolted out of bed and over to your desk to begin working on the report again, biting back tears of embarrassment at such a ridiculous error on your part. How could you have been so tired that you missed an entire section of a report?

You cracked open another energy drink that you kept in your room and began guzzling it. You were still in the same clothes as the day before and you hadn’t taken your hair down from it’s bun in days. Your stomach grumbled but you answered it with more of the energy drink. You would deal with hunger later. This was much more important. 

Your head was pounding and you could barely sit up straight. You had barely gotten a few hours of sleep and somehow felt more tired than you had before it. Your sight became more blurry as it became harder to suppress the tears. You were angry at yourself, why couldn’t you just get this one fucking thing done?

You worked through the section quickly, or at least, you tried to. You kept having to reread sections, not comprehending what the words were saying anymore. You rubbed your eyes aggressively and shook your head, trying to concentrate. You reached to grab the energy drink again, but instead accidentally spilled it all over yourself. Letting out a “Fuck!” as you stood up, something inside you snapped. 

You threw the can across the room, not caring how much was left inside of it. You flipped your chair and crumbled the miscellaneous papers on your desk. You let out a scream of frustration, and threw a picture frame across the room. After which, you bent over and placed your hands on your knees, small sobs beginning to wrack your body. You were just so tired, you had work to do, but you couldn’t do it no matter how simple it was. 

You walked around the mess and into your bathroom, closing the door. You turned on the shower and got in, not even bothering to take off your clothes or wait for it to warm up. You didn’t care. You couldn’t. You sank to the floor, tears streaming down your face as the shower began to warm. You couldn’t bring yourself together, every time you tried to calm down a new wave of frustration and exhaustion would hit you and you would start crying all over again. You held your hand to your chest, trying to catch your breath a little, not having much success. You were gasping for air, it felt like you were breathing fire. Unable to fight it anymore, you started choking out lyrics to one of your go-to sad songs.

Feel the weight of the world over me tonight.

If I break, if I break down this time

You took a shaky breath and choked out the next line

Hope you know I tried…

Meanwhile, Bucky had been thinking about you. The two of you were very close, you had been ever since Steve had introduced you to him. He was in awe of how you could both rival Tony in the lab and himself in the training room. That and how much you did for others. You had helped him a lot when Bucky had first come to the compound. And he was very grateful.

He knew you had gotten back from a mission a few days ago, and were probably exhausted. From what he had heard it had been a brutal mission. However, in the past, you had usually gotten back into the routine of daily life pretty quickly. He hasn’t so much as seen you since you got back. 

He couldn’t help but worry.

He decided to go to your room to check on you, seeing as it was later in the morning and you had had a chance to sleep. Little did he know, you hadn’t. When he got to your door he knocked and waited for a response. He was met with nothing. However, with his enhanced hearing, he heard muffled singing from inside. He couldn’t hear the words, but you sounded in pain. 

My mind’s such a mess, I can’t handle it, I’m at the end of my rope.

Worried, he let himself in and took in the state of the room. It was completely trashed, shattered glass, overturned furniture, crumbled papers. He heard the shower running and could hear your cries through the lyrics

My neck is breaking body shaking

Sometimes it’s so hard to breathe

But no one sees it follows me i always end up underneath

The weight of the world…

You began coughing, still gasping for air and holding your chest. Bucky came over to the bathroom door and opened it, concerned you were in pain. You were sitting on the floor, drenched and shaking. Steam filled the room, fogging up the mirrors. He came over to you, trying to get your attention but you couldn’t hear him. Worried, he stepped into the shower as well, swearing as it burned his skin. He crouched down in front of you and took your face in his hands, trying to guide your face to his.

“Y/n, y/n can you hear me? Can you look at me?” he said. 

Coming back to your senses slightly, you tried to figure out who was in front of you. You grabbed one of his forearms and focused your eyes, still struggling to breathe. You found Bucky’s blue eyes looking back at you.

Bucky, knowing you were now aware of his presence, reached to turn off the water while still maintaining eye contact. You were coughing, choking on each breath, still shaking and crying. Bucky had never seen you like this. You tried looking around again, forgetting briefly where you were and what had happened, breath picking up again in confusion.  “Hey, hey, y/n? I need you to keep your eyes on me okay?”

“It...hurts..” you gasped out, feeling like fire filled your lungs. Your arms had gone numb and in the absence of the warm water your wet body was now shivering from both the cold and anxiety. 

Bucky quickly looked you up and down. “What hurts, y/n?” he said calmly but firmly even though he was freaking out internally.

Fresh tears spilled out of your eyes. You tried to talk but couldn’t speak through your panic. You rubbed your chest, willing your heart to slow down but it wouldn’t. 

Bucky, still keeping his eyes locked on yours, said “Listen, y/n, I need you to try and breathe with me slowly, okay? Like this,” he breathed in deeply and let it out slowly. You tried to copy him and after a few breaths lost your pace. You shook your head. “I can’t…. I...I…”

. “It’s okay, you’re okay, you’re safe y/n. Try again, I’m right here okay? Look at me.” he said, still breathing deeply. Eventually, you were able to find a rhythm and catch your breath, becoming aware of the situation and everything that had happened. Now able to breathe, you felt new tears of shame rush to your eyes. There were a few moments of silence

“What happened?” Bucky asked, concern etched on his face. 

You let out a small sob and covered your face, and Bucky’s heart shattered. He had never seen anyone this upset, nevermind you. You had always been so strong, energetic, joyful. And here you were, soaking wet and shaking on the shower floor. What the hell had happened to you? 

He stood up and got out of the shower, also soaked, but he didn’t care about that right now. He leaned down and put one arm behind your back and the other looped under your knees and he picked you up. He placed you down on the vanity and stood in front of you. He carefully took your wrists and pulled them away from your face, you looking at him through bloodshot eyes. 

“You - you’re soaked,” you said, both out of shock and in an attempt to deflect the attention from you.

“Wh- I mean, yeah, so are you,” Bucky said. “Y/n, can you tell me what happened?”

You looked down at your hands and swallowed thickly, embarrassed. “I, uh…” you cleared your throat. What had happened? You closed your eyes and rubbed your head. 

The shower

The song

Your room

The report

The energy drink

Oh fuck

You sighed out “Shit, I just…” again, shame began to overtake you. “It’s stupid, forget about it,” you said, trying to stand up. 

Bucky stopped you, confused. “Y/n, whatever just happened, that…  That’s not caused by something stupid. I’ve never seen you so upset before. Hell I’ve never seen anyone so upset before. But I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

“Really, Buck, I’m fine,” you said.

“Then why are you trying not to cry?”

You sighed. There was no other way out of this. You looked at him and said, “I was just done.” You looked back down at your hands, and continued trying to keep the waiver out of your voice. “I just, um...After the mission I had to fix Sam’s wings, and it took me longer than I expected. And then I still had the mission report which took me all of last night and then I found out that I had missed an entire section. And I got mad that I couldn’t focus or stay awake and I just kind of...broke.”

As you looked back at him, face not as red, he could see how tired you seemed. “Are you sleeping?”

“I mean, a little bit it’s not like I’ve been awake this whole time but -”

“Y/n.”

You looked at him. “A couple of hours a night at most,” you said quietly. 

Bucky nodded sadly. “Anything else?”

You opened and closed your mouth a few times. “I mean it’s not a big deal -”

“What I just saw was a big deal,” Bucky said gently.

“I haven’t really made time to eat either,” you tried to laugh it off a little. “Just kind of chugged energy drinks. But then I spilled it all over myself, so...bad idea I guess.”

Bucky wasn’t laughing. But he wasn’t angry either. He was, but not at you, never at you.

“I’m sorry,” you said. 

“Why didn’t you say anything? The days off after missions are there for rest.”

You shrugged. “I had important shit to do.” 

“Well you’re pretty important shit too,” he said a little more firmly, but still not angrily. He sighed. “But really, if you’re not okay then nothing gets done. You’re going to get sick if you keep doing this to yourself. When was the last time you had more than a few hours of sleep?”

“I don’t know,” you answered honestly. 

He sighed once again. “I’m sorry,” you said, fearful that he was angry with you.

“No, it’s not your fault I just…” he looked away for a second before looking back at you. “I don’t like seeing you like this. I don’t want you pushing yourself so hard and getting hurt.”

You sighed sadly and rubbed your eyes. “Every day I tell myself it’s the last day I’ll stay up so late. I always tell myself I’ll eat after my project is done. But no matter how hard I work there’s just more and more work that needs to get done. And I can’t keep up. I feel like I’m drowning. But no matter how much I hate it I...I always come last,” you said. 

“You shouldn’t have to,” Bucky said.

After a few moments of silence, Bucky pulled you in for a hug, you still sitting on the counter. You closed your eyes against his chest and sighed out, feeling good finally getting all of that off of your chest. 

“You’re taking the next few days off.” he said. 

You pulled back and looked at him. “But the report -”

“Is mostly done and Steve can get the rest of the information from Sam.” Bucky finished for you.

“But -”

“Nope. There is not a single thing you could say right now that is going to prevent me from making sure you take care of yourself for a few days.” he said, and you knew he was right. Nodding, he pulled you back in for a hug. 

“We should get out of these clothes.” you said softly, shivering a little. 

Bucky laughed a little. “Yeah, we really should.” 

You moved to stand up from the counter, still a little weak as you leaned on Bucky a little. You walked slowly out to your room and were met with the mess you created earlier. “Shit,” you said, taking in the broken glass and furniture.

Bucky turned you around and said “Do you want to come to my room? We can deal with this some other time.”

You simply nodded, stepping around the broken shards of glass and to the hallway. Bucky’s room wasn’t far from yours, and luckily no one was in the hallways to comment on how both of you were in wet clothes. Once in his room, he closed the door after you and went to his dresser. He pulled out a pair of sweats and one of his T-shirts and handed them to you. “They might be a little big but -”

“Thank you,” you said, taking the clothes and heading to his bathroom. You closed the door and peeled your current outfit off of you. You found a spare towel and dried off the rest of you, and pulled on Bucky’s clothes. They were huge on you, but you didn’t mind. You took your hair down and redid your bun before splashing some cold water on your face. Deeming you looked more presentable, you came back out and saw that Bucky had also changed. Smiling warmly, he pointed to the bed. 

“So you are going to lie down, and I am going to go make you some food. I’ll be right back.”

You started shaking your head. “No, it’s okay, you don’t have -”

He raised his eyebrows, still pointing to the bed. Swallowing a laugh, you nodded and sat down on the bed. Bucky then left the room and returned a few minutes later with a sandwich. After you had eaten it, you laid back in the bed, melting into the softness of the mattress. You faced away from Bucky, who was sitting next to you on his phone. He was (slowly)  texting Steve to finish your report, which took very little convincing. 

After a few minutes, you asked “Can you lay down with me?”

Bucky smiled a little to himself. “Sure, doll,” he said, and he moved to lie down next to you. Unsure of what exactly you wanted, he gave you space. Not soon after, you turned over and scooted closer to his side. After a moment of shock from Bucky, you asked “Is this okay?” Readjusting a little, he wrapped his arm around you and pulled you closer. “Yeah, is this okay?” he asked in return.  You merely hummed in approval, already feeling safer in his warm embrace. He let out a small laugh. “Try to get some rest, y/n. I’ll be here whenever you wake up.”

It was the most peaceful sleep you had ever had.

#burnout #burn out #Bucky Barnes #buckybarnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky imagine #bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barns fanfiction #bucky barns imagine #bucky barns x y/n #bucky barns x you #bucky barnes imagine #MCU #mcu imagine #mcu fanfiction #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #comfort #bucky barnes comfort #stressed #song lyrics #lyrics inspired

[freelancearsonist]

February Fic Recs!

Hi everyone! I’ve realized that part of the problem with interaction within the fic community is that not as many larger creators are doing their part to reblog and recommend fics like they used to when I first joined Tumblr. And while I wouldn’t really consider myself a “large” blog, I still want to do my part to help boost my fellow creators :) So here’s a list of what I read this month!

02.01 // “a letter addressed to the manager of the letter room” by @propertyofabelmorales (Richard Alsonso-Munoz) // I’ve read this at least three times omg because it’s currently the only Richard content we have and it’s wonderfully written and the letter format is unique but really interesting and so fitting given the character so yeah 10/10 please keep ‘em coming Vic 😂

02.02 // “Walls that Come Down” by @houseofthirst (Nathan Bateman) // this made me horny and made me cry at the same time and I think it’s really unfair that you have the power to do that to me tbh 😂 This is so wonderfully written and such a beautiful take on Nathan’s character and ugh lemme go cry in my corner

02.03 // “Meet Me on Endor” by @autumnleaves1991-blog (Poe Dameron) // “You are so beautiful, all the time” made me tear up a little bit because it’s so distinctly Poe and I also horny cried because god I’d give anything for this man

02.04 // “In the Night” by @jawabear (Santiago “Pope” Garcia) // this was emotional and beautiful and sexy all at once and it made me cry a lil bit in bed at 2am and honestly I thank you for it

02.05 // “Something About You And I” by @sacklerscumrag (Poe Dameron) // This was beautifully written and also so so so sexy and I realized I might have a bit of unresolved bondage kink while reading this so thanks for that 😂

02.06 // “The Night That Follows” by @roanniom (Poe Dameron) // I found this kind of by accident and then it turned out to be one of the most beautiful fics I’ve ever read in my life??? I’m seriously like trembling how can someone pack so much talent into one sexy fic I’m—

02.07 // “The Punishment” by @mandorush (Santiago “Pope” Garcia) // This is so fucking sexy what the fuck and then I found out it’s a whole series??? Yeah so needless to say my 2am binge was entirely worth it omg 🤤

02.08 // “Dessert is on the Counter” by @nathan-bateman (Abel Morales) // I read this before you posted to make the moodboard but I’ve legit reread like seven times since then omg. A quality fic in every way. 10/10

02.09 // “Affection” by @wasicskosgirl (Llewyn Davis) // This is one of my all-time favorite fics for my favorite man 😭 everything about this is so cute and I would literally die to snuggle with this sweet boy 😭

02.10 // “Tell Me” by @rebellou (Poe Dameron) // I don’t even know what to say omfg this is one of the hottest things I’ve ever read in my life and I’d like this fic chiseled onto my gravestone so I have something nice to take with me into the afterlife

02.11 // “Romantic Dreams” by @witchyavenger (Santiago “Pope” Garcia) // Yeah I want this holy hell this was so spectacularly written and so sexy and 😩 god I can’t even have kids but I wish he would breed me omg

02.12 // “Pressing Camera Questions” by @youvebeenlivingfictional (Nathan Bateman) // Omg this is so wonderfully constructed, even as something of an introductory piece to this series. I’m so excited to see what comes!

02.13 // “Free Fall” by @michaelperry (Mikael Boghosian) // There’s so little fic for Mikael on this site and so finding this kinda felt like striking gold 😂 especially because it’s so wonderfully writing and so sexy and 🤤

02.14 // #valentines fic tag by @propertyofabelmorales (Literally every Oscar Isaac character) // I got to read so many amazing fics today because of the Valentine’s fic exchange but shit dude you went above and beyond!! I wanted to only plug each author once on this fic rec calendar but there’s no way I couldn’t give you a shout out for this. Even in addition to your piece for the fic exchange you wrote so much incredible fic for literally every character I can think of (including Marcus!!!!!!!!! As I’m writing this you haven’t even posted his yet but I saw his name on the list and I’ve been having heart palpitations ever since) so yeah explore this tag because there’s fic for literally everyone and it’s all so wonderfully written and *chef’s kiss*

02.15 // “ghosts” by @unstoppableforcce (Javier Peña) // This one gave me CHILLS omfg this is just the first part and I was rolling on the ground. Everything about this is so beautifully constructed and haunting and UGH this is amazing 😭

02.16 // “Pretty” by @waatermelon-sugaar (Blue Jones) // Holy shit this unlocked like seven kinks that I didn’t even know I had 🤤 this was so wonderfully written and so sexy and realistic? Idk if that’s a good descriptor but like I could feel everything you were describing sdkfdkfjdkfj I LOVED THIS

02.17 // “home.” By @pascal-isaac (Llewyn Davis) // Look I wish I was kidding when I say that I’ve read this fic upwards of seven times sdkjskdjskd this is one of my all-time favorite fics and it only gets hotter with age 😩 this fic is like a fine wine and I would like to have it inscribed on my tombstone when I inevitably escape from this plane of existence

02.18 // “Turning to the Dark...” by @mylifeisactuallyamess (First Order!Poe Dameron) // If I’m being honest I’m not usually a fan of darker fics but this one worked for me. It was so sexy and honestly kind of beautiful in the way you describe the interrogation and later Poe’s willful turning. I really enjoyed this and will probably read again 🥺

02.19 // “My Best Decision” by @knivesareout​ (Javier Peña) // Fuck guys I’ve had baby fever like a motherfucker this month and this made it so much worse 😂 Dad!Javi is so fucking cute omg and this fic was SO SEXY and it really hit all of my bases 😩

02.20 // “my sweet baby” by @writingletterstothefire (Santiago “Pope” Garcia) // Look I’ve read this fic 293394 times and it’s good EVERY TIME. Dirty Dancing is the good kush and this fic made my obsession with that movie like 1000 times worse omfg. I read this every time I’m in a bad mood and it just puts a smile on my face so fast omg I would literally beg for a longer version

02.21 // “Sounds of Silence” by @veuliee2 (Orestes) // This fic? This fic right here? Lives rent free in my mind. To the truest capacity of the statement. I wish I was kidding when I say that not a single day goes by where I don’t think about this. I don’t even really know what to call this? Maybe Something along the lines of associates to lovers? Whatever this qualifies as it’s literally one of my absolute favorite fics of all time and I will never forget the way you shattered and mended my heart with one story

02.22 // “Mr. & Mrs. Cooper” by @aellynera (Bud Cooper) // THIS IS BRILLIANT THE ENTIRE WAY THROUGH ok first of all that this is like one of two fics for this character 😂 but also this is the most beautifully, ironically constructed fic ever? Everything about this is entirely grasping and there’s THREE PARTS that are all just as good as the rest and 😩 I literally couldn’t ask for a more perfect fic

02.23 // “Catch” by @ollypopp (Poe Dameron) // This is a short drabble but I had to include it because DAMN this is so sexy and wonderful for such a short piece and I’ll be thinking about this for the next month so thank you 😂

02.24 // “Blooming most recklessly” by @writefightandflightclub (Evgeni Kolpakov) // This is so beautifully written while simultaneously being so sexy???? How do you do it Luna I am forever in awe of your talent 😭 I can just visualize everything he says and does so clearly and I’m so in love with this piece 😭💛

02.25 // “falling for you” by @luminouspoes (Poe Dameron) // This is the cutest thing ever wtf 😭😭 The pining is so strong even though it’s short and it’s just all around so wonderfully written and I must go cry in my corner now

02.26 // “Liability” by @honeymandos (Nathan Bateman) // THIS WAS GORGEOUS WTF I’m crying over some soft Nathan in this house tonight 😭 I was legit so worried for a while that he’d send reader away but then he CAVED and my heart sang hallelujah—

02.27 // “electric spark” by @woakiees (Duke Leto Atreides) // Hi I need everyone to read this please so it can destroy your body and live in your mind and occupy all of your waking thoughts like it does for me k thanks

02.28 // “The Child” by @starryeyedstories (Poe Dameron) // This was the sweetest thing ever what the heck 😭😭😭 I am eternally sobbing over this lil found family-ish vibe and dad!Poe is literally everything I’ve ever wanted and UGH I have to go cry for the next month

#fic rec #february fic recs #poe dameron x reader #santiago garcia x reader #nathan bateman x reader #richard alsonso-munoz x reader #mikael boghosian x reader #javier peña x reader #blue jones x reader #orestes x reader #bud cooper x reader #evgeni kolpakov x reader #leto atreides x reader

[saltysideblog]

Delilah's Kill Count: Holding Steady At Six

Author's Note: Flashbacks, no new kills. Some body horror.

One Two Three Four Still Four Oh Shit Six >Holding Steady At Six<

Find me on Ao3!

The stethoscope was cold against Ted's back.

Inhale. Exhale. Good boy. His mother scribbled something on the clipboard as he pulled his t-shirt back over his head. She reached in her lab coat's pocket and handed him a red lollipop, all while rereading her previous notes. The exam room paper crinkled beneath him as he slid off the table. He popped the lollipop in his mouth. His mother turned in her chair, clicking her pen shut and smiled,

"Alright... Let's go say hi to the others."

It was the same after every check up. He followed her to the big room lined with beds, a low table in the center covered in craft paper and crayons. Most of the beds were empty now. He waved to Cornelia as he passed her. She didn't seem to notice he was there, her eyes locked onto something a million miles away. Her skin looked like stained glass, dainty and colourful, and was just as fragile. Any time she moved, it would shatter, thick black blood oozing from the cracks. It never healed. Adelaide didn't see him either, her eyes covered in thick bandages. She was shaking. Sitting on the round carpet, playing with a small teddy bear was Jacob. He used his feet to manipulate the toy, his arms being nothing more than nubs. The mysterious rainbow splotches had moved up to his shoulders and neck. Ted then waved to Abner, glowing pustules the size of apples warping his face. Next to Abner's bed was a bassinet. Leaning over to look into it, Ted saw a smiling baby with fat cheeks and a head full of dark hair. The little girl grabbed his finger and squeezed, babbling something incomprehensible. Ted looked at his mother,

"Is she sick too?"

Abner whispered, "Not yet."

It wouldn't dawn on Ted what Abner had meant until a few years later. By then, it was too late...

Cornelia and Jacob were gone. In the corner of the room, Abner kneeled next to a small figure hurling into a trash can. He held her hair back. Delilah must've been four at the time. Adelaide sobbed, but no tears came; her eyelids were sewn shut. At the end of it all, another bassinet.

That was the last time he saw any of them. When he turned eighteen, Ted was free to leave. They weren't. He got into a good college and changed his name. He never came back.

While tidying up the room, their mother crumpled a page full of doodles and the words "Hello Ted" written in wobbly letters, and tossed it into the trash.

The past few days seemed to go by like molasses. Laying in bed, Delilah drifted in and out of sleep; haunted by the atrocities she'd committed when she slept, tortured with embarrassment and shame in her waking moments. The sun shone through the blinds, but she couldn't tell if it was morning or afternoon. She hadn't been to work in quite some time. She ignored any concerned texts from Cleo. She shifted away from the window, catching a whiff of herself. Her hair was greasy and knotted, clothes stained and smelly. She needed to shower. She sighed, pulling the blankets over her head and closing her eyes, choosing to ignore reality and slip into another bout of fitful sleep. It didn't matter anymore.

There was a knock. Then two, then three. The landlord. She hadn't paid her rent yet. He would go away eventually, like he always did, threatening eviction.

He knocked again. Could this be the day he finally followed through on his threats?

"Delilah? It's Bianca, please can I come in?"

Delilah's eyes snapped open. She couldn't see her like this. If she closed her eyes, maybe Bianca would go away as well.

"Delilah? Delilah?", banging on the door.

Bianca sounded panicked. She stopped one of Delilah's neighbours in the hallway,

"Excuse me, do you have any idea where she is? Is she still alive?"

Rubbing her face and groaning, Delilah rolled out of bed. She'd make an appearance, if only to show she was still alive. Putting her hair up, she went to splash her face. She cringed at her reflection. Opening the door, she was engulfed in a hug.

"Oh thank god, we were so worried!"

Bianca's hands grabbed Delilah's face before she could pull away, turning her head this way and that,

"They found something horrible in our neighbourhood and I wanted to make sure you were alright... You are, aren't you? Ted hasn't seen you at work..."

Delilah shrugged her off, "I'm fine."

Bianca frowned, pushing her way into Delilah's apartment.

She took in the state of the small living space, sparsely furnished, it looked hardly lived in, save for the kitchen sink full of dirty dishes and the piles of unwashed clothes. Bianca made herself at home, walking over to the fridge and scoffing when she found it empty,

"When was the last time you ate?"

"When did we have dinner?"

"Delilah..."

"Why are you here, Bianca?"

"Because wether he likes it or not, you're still Ted's sister", she leaned down to pick up a dirty spoon, "And that makes you my sister too."

The spoon clanged as she dropped it in the sink, punctuating her last statement. Delilah sunk into the couch, head in her hands. Bianca stood behind her, hands on her hips waiting for her to respond. Instead, Delilah started sobbing.

Bianca's face softened and she joined her on the couch, rubbing circles on her back. Delilah's voice cracked between sobs,

"You don't want me for a sister..."

"Why not?"

"Ted doesn't."

"Ted still has some work to do, but with time the two of you can have a normal relationship."

Delilah stopped crying.

"I hate that word. Nothing in my life will ever be normal."

"I'm sure after everything that happened, that's how it feels..."

"No! What you saw, that's the rest of my life. I can never walk away from it..."

She took a shuddering breath, "A part of me will always be in that lab."

Bianca looked sadly at the floor, "I see."

She stood, walking over to the kitchen and turning the tap. Delilah stared at her confused.

Bianca rolled up her sleeves, "We'll just have a weird relationship then."

#bianca is nice #dr bianca krill #née white #polka dot man #abner krill #delilah #wallflower #self insert #fanfic #body horror #the control #text #the suicide squad #the suicide squad oc #dceu oc #medical #delilah's kill count

[madquerade]

In Questo Paradiso ne Scopra il Nuovo Dì (10/10)

Rating: m Ineffable Wives (female Crowley x Aziraphale) Major Character Death, tw: illness, blood Human AU, angst, hurt/comfort, smut, just a lil fluff but like… You can read it on Ao3 @ sherwhotreksings Chapter: one two three four five six seven eight nine ten

Paris. 1851. She’s not sure if she’s real or imaginary, the girl sitting on a chair across from her bed. She sees her though: dark hair, golden brown eyes, dressed in white, Azira’s sister. She can’t be sure anything is real at this point. The only thing she knows for sure is that she’s home now and she’s dying. ~ This is just La Traviata but with the wives. I’m sorry. Antonia is a Parisian courtesan caught up in the intricacies of French society until a young madame, Azira, disrupts her whole world.

Chapter 4

A/N: Here we go! The final chapter! Thank you for sticking with the fic and I hope you've enjoyed it as much as I have.

Antonia slips in and out of sleep. It seems like she hasn’t gotten a proper night’s sleep in weeks. The covers around Antonia provide little warmth for her cold body. On top of that, her skin has turned sensitive and even the silk feels rough and scratches her body uncomfortably. She sighs weakly and uses what strength she has to sit up. So this is what her miserable life has been leading to. Fitting that she’ll go out spotted with blood and stripped of love. A life lived for pleasure will only lead to unhappiness. Antonia squeezes her eyes shut, trying to block out her surroundings. They only remind her of pain. At least she managed to do one thing right with her life. She saved Azira’s sister.

Antonia opens her eyes. Azira’s sister stands opposite her in the room. Her dark hair falls gracefully around her shoulders, adorned with flowers and a white veil. Her golden brown eyes sparkle as she slowly glides parallel to Antonia’s bed. The wedding dress she’s wearing brushes the floor and trails behind her as she walks ever closer to her destiny. An invisible wind stirs the hem of her veil and plays in her hair. Antonia tracks her with her eyes. Azira’s sister floats the length of the room and disappears from sight.

Antonia leans forward, trying to catch another glimpse of the girl out of her field of vision, but the doctor enters and chides her for exerting herself. She reluctantly lies back against the pillows. Marceline pulls up a chair to Antonia’s bed side for the doctor. He sits down and thanks Marceline while pulling out his stethoscope. He listens to her heart and lungs, having her lean forward at his instruction. Antonia can’t imagine he’s hearing much over the dark crackle of her breathing. She has to fight for each breath now. It’s an uphill battle and one that she knows she’s losing. The doctor leans over to Marceline, hovering nervously nearby, and whispers something. If Antonia was stronger, she’d try to eavesdrop, but that would take too much energy.

“How am I doing?” Antonia offers a feeble smile, voice barely above a whisper.

He gives her a reassuring pat on the arm. “You’ll make a full recovery, ma cherie.” He says it with such conviction, but his facial expression betrays him, twisted into a concerned frown.

It’s okay. She knows he’s lying anyway. She’s nearing her final chapter.

The doctor pulls Marceline aside to another room, presumably to offer her advice on how to care for her in her final hours. Antonia reaches under her pillow, retrieving the letter delivered to her almost two weeks ago from Monsieur Donadieu. Though her hope has long since faded, it brings her a small comfort. She rereads it once more, fingers taking care to not rip the paper at the worn creases.

Madame Crowley,

You kept your promise, so I will keep mine. The duel has taken place! The Baron was wounded, but is recovering. Azira was not harmed.

Her heart flutters at those words every time she reads them. Even though she could not offer her the life she desperately wanted, Antonia was not the cause of losing that chance all together. One day Azira will be able to reach her destiny.

Azira, heartbroken by your act, has gone abroad. I’ll admit I was not planning on revealing your sacrifice, but I was moved by your letters.

Antonia spent quite some time thinking about what letters Gabriel meant. The conclusion she landed on was that Marceline found her unsent letters to Azira and mailed them herself, otherwise a letter fairy delivered them against her wishes.

I myself wrote to her as soon as I made my decision. She will return to ask your pardon. Take care of yourself. You deserve a happier future.

Gabriel Donadieu

Antonia holds back a sob. It’s too late, now. She’s waited too long and now she’ll die before she gets here. She throws back the covers, a sudden determination to keep her strength flooding her veins. She’ll survive long enough for Azira to arrive.

Shakily she puts her feet on the floor, testing her legs ability to hold her weight before standing. All seems right for the moment, so she chances it, and manages to walk to her vanity. She picks up the brush and messily runs it through her hair before picking up the mirror.

“Ah! How I’ve changed,” Antonia exclaims. The person looking back at her is a stranger, pale and weary. Her bright fiery hair has dulled. Her skin is grey and so dry it looks as if she might shed and become a snake. The only spot of color is her lips, but even they are unnaturally dark, stained red from the blood she’s been coughing up. She can feel her breathing get heavier and knows if she doesn’t retreat soon, she’ll have a coughing fit.

She slams the mirror down onto her vanity. “Adieu, sweet dreams of the past, with this disease every hope is dead!” Antonia turns back to her bed, taking small hesitant steps. Her lungs feel like they’re bursting, too late to stop her cough. She doubles over as she reaches the bed, one hand on the mattress to keep her up. Her cough is rough and hacking. She’s given up on using a handkerchief to contain the blood, it just soaks through to her hand anyway.

“Smile upon the woman who has strayed,” Antonia pleads with the air and whoever is listening, tears mingling with the blood on her lips. “No cross nor name will mark my bones when I’m gone.”

Marceline overhears her cries and rushes into the bedroom. “Merde! Antonia! What are you doing?” She grabs Antonia’s arms and urges her into bed.

Antonia tries to wave her off, but it doesn’t work. “I just wanted a change of pace and some air. This bed is suffocating.”

Marceline helps Antonia get situated in bed again, fluffing her pillows, and helps her sit up. “Let me open the window for you, but just for a moment. I don’t want you catching a chill.”

The sounds of outside come filtering in, muffled by the thick curtains, cheers and laughter.

“Is today a holiday?” Antonia stretches, trying to see out the window where Marceline is pulling the curtain back.

“All of Paris is going mad. It’s Carnival today.” Marceline opens the window more and leans out, examining the crowd gathering in the streets in front of their residence. “The parade will be happening any moment-” Marceline squeaks out a noise of alarm and quickly closes the window, pulling the curtains tight. “Madame, you must not get excited. I want to prepare you…”

Antonia’s heart speeds up. There’s only one reason Marceline would request she not get excited.

Footsteps echo down the hallway, getting louder as the visitor approaches. Azira appears in the doorway to the bedroom and freezes there, taking in Antonia’s state.

“Azira!” Antonia cries, trying to read her body language. She can��t tell if Azira is happy to see her.

Azira rushes to her side and scoops her into her arms. It feels like her hands are everywhere; on her hips, her back, her sides, her face. Azira peppers kisses all over her face and hair. “Antonia, mon amour, please forgive me. The fault was all mine- I know everything now. My father told me what he made you do. I felt like I was dying away from you.”

Antonia closes her eyes, focusing on keeping calm. “I felt the same, but it’s proof grief can’t kill because you’ve found me alive.”

Azira slides under the covers, helping Antonia adjust until she’s in her lap and laying back against her chest. “Nothing will be able to take you from my arms now, not man, nor demon, or angel.” She smooths the hair back from Antonia’s face. “We’ll escape Paris and live in the country again. We’ll make up for our heartache, and your health will come back again. You’re the light of my life and the future will shine upon us.”

Antonia is lulled into the daydream by the steady beat of Azira’s heart. “We’ll leave Paris,” Antonia echos. They can do this. They can be happy together finally. Her illness doesn’t have to stop them. Now that Azira is back she can fight it. She pushes herself up from Azira. “Azira, please, let’s go to the church.” She stands, fighting her wobbling legs.

“You’re so pale-” Azira gasps, but Antonia cuts her off.

Antonia sways, grasping her chest. “-It’s nothing! I’m just overjoyed.”

Her legs give out from under her and Azira jumps to her feet, catching her heavily. “Mon Dieu! Antonia!” Azira holds her weight completely and Antonia’s head tips forward limply against her chest.

Antonia takes a ragged breath. She breathes but she’s not getting any air. Her illness’ end feels near. This can’t be how she ends. This can’t be it. She just got her love back. The air around her feels thick and humid though it’s the beginning of January.

Antonia’s voice comes out like a wisp of her former self, “It’s only my illness, just a moment of weakness. I’m better now. See I’m smiling.” She attempts a smile, but it falls only a second later. “Marceline, get my dress.” She motions towards the dress hanging on the door.

“Now? Wait!” Azira tries to lower Antonia back to the bed, but she struggles and breaks free of Azira’s arms.

“No! I want to go out.” Overcome by the manic fervor of her creeping reality, she rushes to the dress herself. She manages to pull it down from the hanger, letting the weight of the material and gravity do most of the work, but the material is too heavy for her to hoist over her head, and she doesn’t have the balance to step into it. “I cannot!” Antonia breaks down sobbing.

Azira collects her back into her arms, letting the dress fall to the floor in a heap. “Marceline, call the doctor!”

Marceline rushes out of the room to send word.

Antonia cries into Azira’s arms, still standing for the moment. In between her gasps she calls out to Marceline hoping she’ll hear her, “Tell the doctor that Azira has come back to her love. Tell him I want to live again!” She slides out of Azira’s arms, sinking to her knees not unlike the dress next to them. “If your return has not saved my life, then nothing on Earth can save me!”

Azira holds her in her arms, letting her scream.

“To die now, when I might have at last stopped my weeping!” It’s Antonia’s turn to rage. Her fingernails bite into the center of her palms as she squeezes her fists shut. “I kept my love alive in vain!” She smacks the floor with her fists and throws back her head, letting out a scream that would break the hearts of anyone who heard.

Azira tries to reassure her, a look of abject terror on her face. “My breath of life, my pulse, you must stay calm! My tears flow with your’s, but we must now more than ever keep heart.”

Antonia looks up and sees that Azira is indeed also crying. However, her words do nothing to steady her heart. She’s losing control. Her chest heaves with each cry. If her lungs were healed she would be hyperventilating by now.

“My Antonia, be calm! Your grief is killing me! Please, be calm!” Azira’s own panic increases. She wraps her arms tighter around Antonia, hugging her with enough pressure to ground her.

Antonia calms after a few moments and Azira picks her up and carries her back to her bed. With her hair splayed out around her like a halo, she looks like a tragic painting. Her tears have left trails that glitter against her sickly skin in the dusky light. The doctor comes in, without his bag, followed by Marceline. Antonia smiles up at him. “See? I’m dying in the arms of the only dear one I have.”

The doctor shushes her and takes a handkerchief from Marceline, dabbing at her forehead. He passes it off to Azira, who wipes at her salty chest and cleans the blood from around her mouth. The doctor instructs Marceline to do something, and reprimands Antonia, probably for leaving the bed, but she isn’t listening anymore. Antonia leans over to her bedside table and pulls out a locket.

“Take my portrait of days gone by.” Antonia holds it out to Azira. “Let it remind you of the woman who loved you.”

Azira’s eyes flash and she pushes Antonia’s hand away. “No! You must live my darling!”

Antonia gasps and coughs up blood, splattering all over the sheets and her nightgown. Her lungs ache and burn, but she must survive the hellfire before she’s granted the peace she so desires.

“Please... “ Antonia doesn’t catch her breath this time, instead taking in small gasps of air. “...take it.”

Azira’s hand closes around Antonia’s slipping the locket into her hand.

“Remember me when I’m among the spirits.” Antonia relaxes into the pillow, closing her eyes.

If only she had more time with Azira, but there isn’t anymore time. The clock has struck midnight and it’s time for her to go to bed.

“Please, God, don’t take her from me!” Azira leans forward and sobs into Antonia’s lap.

Marceline carefully places her hand on Azira’s shoulder. “God calls her to her side.”

“Please live…” Azira begs Antonia taking both her hands in her own, “or a single casket will return both you and me to the soil of our Earth.”

As if through some magic, or a miracle, perhaps from love itself, Antonia sits up. “My palms! The spasms have ceased!” She holds her arms out in front of her, amazed at the improvement. “My energy! My life is back!” Antonia gets to her knees on the bed. “We can get married, Azira!”

The doctor glances to Azira, who is looking at him apprehensively. A single shake of his head is all she needs to know. Azira climbs onto the bed next to Antonia and wraps her arms around her love. Antonia takes one final deep breath and slumps back in Azira’s arms.

The room is silent save for the singing of Parisians outside.

Make way for the quadruped Queen of the festival, Wearing her crown of flowers and vine leaves.

Make way for the tamest of all who wear horns, greet her with music of harp and flute.

People of Paris, open the path to the heroic Queen. Light-hearted maidens, and frolicking lads, pay her due honour of music and song!

People of Paris, open the path to the triumphant Queen. Make way for the quadruped Queen of the festival wearing her crown of horns.

#ineffable wives #good omens #good omens fic #crowley x arizaphale #my fic #iqpsnd

[atsumiyass]

Leave you Lonley

Tooru Oikawa x reader

synopsis: in which Oikawa thinks hes doing the best for you, when in reality he just broke your heart.

warnings: angst, timeskip spoilers.

(thank you all so much for 80 followers! that means so much to me and admin mars we love you all so much <3)

Your relationship with Tooru Oikawa was something you wouldn’t give up for the world.

At first it was great, being fresh out of high school and still in a relationship wasn’t easy, but you both managed. With him being barley home because of volleyball and you working at a preschool, you barley saw each other. But you made time, having weekly date nights, and just catching up with each other on the couch every Friday night. It was great.

Until he packed up his stuff and left for Argentina.

The morning he left was like any normal one for you. The sun was shinning brightly though your shared bedroom windows, birds chirping, and the bustling city noise. You slowly opened your eyes and turned your body expecting to be greeted with Oikawas beautiful sleeping face.

Except, the spot was empty.

Being confused, you slowly got up from the bed. Walking out of the room towards the kitchen, assuming he had just woken up a bit earlier. It was Saturday after all. You saw what looked like a folded piece of paper on the kitchen counter and picked it up.

“y/n” the front read.

This wasn’t looking good, your heart started to race as you slowly opened the paper.

 “Y/n,

I’m sorry for this. For you having to wake up to an empty spot every morning, for you having to wait late nights for me to come home, for you having to be alone for half the time. It isn’t fair for you. I’ve decided that you deserve better. I got an offer to join the Argentinian League, so I’ve taken it. This is the next step in my volleyball career, and it hurts me that you can’t be by my side. But this is for your own good. My dear, I hope you find someone perfect for you. I’ll never forget the moments we’ve had, and please don’t hold this against me.  

With love,

Tooru.”

You reread the letter more then 5 times. Rubbing your eyes and even going as far as to pinch yourself to make sure you weren’t dreaming. Tears kept rolling down your cheeks, not bothering to wipe them.

He left…he left you.

You crumpled up the letter and threw it in the trashcan, sobbing as you walked back to your now single bedroom. Making your way to the closet to see only your clothes inside. The tears wouldn’t stop. You checked every part of the house for any sign of Oikawa except for pictures, but the only thing he had left was the note. You were angry now. How could he leave and not bother telling you? After everything you both went through, he thinks he can just up and leave without saying goodbye? You grabbed a trash bag from under the kitchen sink and began gathering every picture with Oikawa in it.

Your first date, your most recent one, your picture with Matsukawa, Hanamaki, and Iwaizumi from 3rd year, everything was going away.

Just like he did.

After putting everything in the bag you took it out to the dumpster, throwing it inside. You stood there for a second, going over what you had done.

You had nothing left of him.

Before your neighbors could hear, you made your way back to your apartment. Closing the door behind you, making your way back to your bedroom and climbing back into bed. You curled up into a ball and kept crying. Saying how much you missed him and how you wanted him to come back, knowing good and well he couldn’t hear you. You took the pillow from his side and brought it up to your face. Taking in his scent for the last time. You cried even harder at this and hugged it tight.

For everyday after that, you wished you would see him again. Even though he had shattered your heart, you had hope.

But he never came back, hell you never even saw him again after that.

Even now, 10 years later. In a family home with 2 beautiful twin baby boys and a loving husband, you still missed him.

Did he miss you too? That’s something you don’t bother thinking about.

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

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[ladykatibeth]

“Missing”

Fandom: Sander Sides

Rating: Teen for swearing

Summary:The crown prince of the kingdoms goes on a quest to find his brother, meanwhile a famers kid meets up with a friend.

A/N: Will be continued,if you want to feel free to ask questions about the characters! I have my inbox open. Feel free to reblog.

Remus was Missing.

Remus was missing and Roman didn’t know where he was. Remus was missing, and he was gone for good this time, and Roman didn’t know what to do.

Remus was missing--his twin was missing. His twin was missing, Remus was--

Roman should have done something, noticed sooner. Or even noticed at all. Remus had always been loud, obnoxiously loud, Roman had remarked a couple of times. Remus had been a bit quieter than usual, the past week. But Remus had always had his ups and downs, despite what it might have seemed Remus couldn’t keep up his high energy forever. Every once in a while he ended up crashing.

Roman should have known though. Should have picked it out. Should have noticed. But he had been so busy last week. Well, busier than usual. There's always lessons, boring parties where adults talked about stupid things, and other such duties. But that week he had been preparing to do a speech, anxiously prepping and preparing. He had been so stressed, being crown prince was no easy task, honestly sometimes he just wanted to get away.

Maybe that's why Remus left.

Maybe that's why Remus left.

Maybe--

Roman could feel his breath hitch in his throat, his eyes were wet, why was he crying? Why couldn’t he breathe?

Roman felt a hand on his shoulder. He tensed as he suddenly remembered where he was. His hands were gripping the bed. The breath slowly returned to his lungs, maybe he had been cursed. Cursed by some breath stealing fairy. That would actually be a good idea for a story, he’d have to return to that later.

“Roman?” Right. Later. He looked up to see Logan looking down at him with a concerned expression on his face. Roman could almost find it in himself to smile. Logan would know what to do. Logan always knew what to do.

“Are you okay?”

“Do I look like I'm okay?” Roman threw his arms around, nearly hitting Logan, who had started to sit down next to Roman.

Logan frowned. “I don't understand, you and I both know disappearing is not out of the realm of your brother's usual behavior. He runs off somewhere, every third week.” His frown deepened. “You both do, actually, no matter how hard I try to stop you.”

Logan had become Roman and Remus’s court companion, by nature of being literally the only other child that lived in the castle. The title wasn't exactly official, but that's what everyone had taken to calling him, almost affectionately. And Logan did the job as best as he could. Making sure neither one of them got themselves killed.

Logan also happened to be the son of Roman and Remus’s tutor. He excelled in almost everything, math, science, geography even English, though he struggled with the metaphors. Out of the three of them, Logan had always gotten the best scores. Roman might have called it favoritism if he didn’t know Logan so well.

Roman passed Logan the note he held crumpled up in his hand. In his despair he had almost forgotten it had been there. Logan carefully read over the material, his face changing only slightly, so slightly Roman wouldn't have caught it if he hadn't known what to look for. He squinted adjusting his glasses.

Of course, knowing what was in the letter himself helped. Roman had reread it over and over again, after finding it on his nightstand that morning.

Ro,

I'm leaving. For good this time. Don’t blame yourself, don't try to come after me, because I don’t want to come back. I don't know what I'll do next, maybe become a pirate? Or live in the woods in a cave,like a bear, and run around naked and eat wild plants! Who knows. I’ll decide later. Anyway, I’ll write to you if I find a way to from wherever I’m going. Say goodbye to Lo for me.

Ps. Don't show this to Mom.You know she’ll come after me.

Pps. If you show this to Mom I'll come back to the castle and bludgeon you. I am not above fratricide.

Roman had quickly hid that note under his pillow. And then he pulled it out to read it again, before sticking it back. He had been doing that all morning. He had at first felt angry, how dare he leave him to do this by himself, that hadn’t been the plan! That's what twins were for! So you didn't have to do things like stealing cookies from cooks, or running kingdoms, alone!

So that was that then. His brother was gone, he left, purposefully disappeared. Roman was going to tackle him if he found him. When he found him. Determination flooded into him.

Logan looked up at him. Probably seeing something in his eyes, he said “You’re going to go try to find him.” He looked at him disapprovingly.

Shit.

“I have to--!” Roman said. Roman drew short, and quickly looked around. He lowered his voice, “I'm going, and you can’t stop me!” Logan glared at him.

Roman glared back, harder. Logan maintained his gaze for a second then looked away, sighing. “Fine, then, I will accompany you.”

“You don't have to-” Roman said. Logan raised an eyebrow.

“I know I don't have to.” He walked over to Roman’s closet and grabbed a bag. “Pack some clothes, I’ll make a list of things we need, and draft a plan.” He placed the bag down next to Roman.

For the first time today Roman smiled. He could almost taste the adventure coming up on the horizon.

-----

Patton couldn’t wait to see his friend! He had said they could meet up today. Patton was so excited he sped through his chores. And boy, there were a lot!

Not that Patton ever really minded that much. He loved the animals on the farm. And he liked getting up early, and getting to watch the sun rise. The only problem was that he had finished too early. By the time he had gotten back it was already twelve O’clock and he still had two more hours to wait.

It was currently 1:30. He still had thirty minutes to wait, but his friend was rarely on time. Sometimes he came early, but mostly he came “fashionably” late as he had called it once. Patton had laughed.

Patton was sitting by the edge of the forest, near his house. The grass underneath Patton's hands was soft, and the sun shone brightly through the trees. The wind felt breezy, tousling through his hair. Patton giggled.

Patton's thoughts wandered to when he met his friend. It was almost a year ago, Patton had been playing around near the woods. His mama had told him to never to go in them. So Patton stayed around them, sure to never get too close to the trees. But Patton had thought he heard crying.

At first he was able to convince himself it was nothing, just the wind rustling through the trees, but the sound grew louder until it could not be classified as anything but sobbing. All thoughts of getting in trouble fled him. Someone was hurting, he needed to help them.

He had wandered slowly into the woods, holding his breath. Barely making a sound. He walked on the path, trying to listen from where he thought he had heard the sound. If somebody was hurt he had to help. Nevermind the fear slowly creeping up his spine.

As he journeyed farther and farther into the woods, the volume of the crying would cycle. Just as he thought he was about to reach the person, it would decrease again. Patton was just starting to think that he’d been tricked when he heard movement in the trees.

He turned around.

Nobody was there.

He slowly turned forward.

A snake was hanging down from the tree, right by him. Patton screamed. He fell backwards and froze. The black and yellow snake drew up close to him. So close he could see the wrinkly outline of its scales. Its eyes were cat-like. The snake's head nodded to the side, an expression that, on a human, would certainly be read as amused curiosity.

Patton got up and ran.

He could feel air rushing past him. He was running on autopilot, passing through trees and ducking under vines. Low hanging branches and thorny bushes nicked at his skin. He nearly avoided tripping over a couple of twigs and branches. He slowed down to a light jog, before stopping and sitting on a log to catch his breath. Patton looked around.

Nothing looked familiar. Patton thought he had come out from his left side. He walked back that way. Trying to go the way he remembered coming from, turning left and right. Just as he thought he would never make it out of these woods, he saw light. Light! Patton ran toward it.

Only to find himself back in the same place he started.

He tried again, and again, changing directions, taking lefts where last time he took rights. But every time he found himself in the same place. It didn't help that the tree markers seemed to flip and change randomly. And Patton couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched. “Why cant you just leaf me alone?” He tried to joke, but his punning fell flat.

He sat back down on his log, and started to cry.

He heard something move in the trees. His breath hitched, and he looked up. A boy about his age was sitting on a branch and looking down at him, lazily dangling a leg off the side of the tree.

His clothes were dark. Pretty fancy for the woods, Patton thought. The boy had a button down shirt, and a cloak wrapped around him. He had yellow gloves, and a hat Patton had never seen before. Patton thought he looked like a storybook villain.

“Crying is, absolutely, one of the best, most productive, responses one could have to getting lost in the woods.” Patton whipped his face with his sleeve. That was kind of a mean thing for him to say.

“Hello!” Patton said, trying to make himself seem happier than he felt. “My name is Patton!”

The boy looked sharply down at him and hissed a half-whisper, “Could you be any louder? I’d love for you to make it known to the whole world that I’m up here!”

Patton frowned. This convo wasn’t going well at all. He pushed forward, and half-whispered “Sorry, it's nice to meet you, what's your name?”

The boy tipped his hat. “You can call me Deceit.” They sat in silence for a minute.

“Well…” Patton began.

“Well?” Deceit said.

“Well, It's just, I'm kinda lost….”Patton trailed off.

“Clearly.”

“And you seem to know these woods a bit…..” Deceit’s expression didn’t change.

“So maybe,” Patton paused, “Maybe you could help me out?” The end of his statement went high.

Deceit must have seen the desperation on his face. Because he said, “Look, I'm not in the habit of doing favors for people, but I am willing to make an exchange.”

Patton gasped. A snake had appeared where Deceit once was. It slithered up the branch and down the tree. As soon as the snake hit the ground, Deceit reappeared.

So he was the one that scared him earlier!

“Here's the deal, I will help you home, if you agree to do me a favor.” Deceit held out his hand to shake it. Patton reached for it, automatically. Stopping just short of shaking it.

“Wait.” Patton had said tilting his head curiously “What favor?”

“You’ll know it when the time comes.” Patton hesitated for a moment, and then stood up and shook Deceits hand.

And in the end that had turned out to be a great decision! Patton had gotten a new friend! A friend that was running towards him right now. Now that’s a bit weird. Deceit doesn't runs, he just slithers all over the place. Patton giggled a bit at the joke.

His smile became tented with concern when he noticed Deceit had a look of panic on his face. Patton grabbed him by the arms. “Hey, hey, what's the matter, kiddo?”

“Patton, you have to hide me!” Deceit said.

#sander sides #deceit sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #remus sanders #missing #fanfic

[love-pyramus]

Stars And The War

Ok uh-

Warnings: Death, depression, crying, funerals, a very small thing of giving birth I guess? Idk. And yea! Enjoy!

Also this thing is about five pages and 2775 words, it is my pride and joy

@buttonsdelaguerra @trans-witch-cauldron @theworldisyaerster1 @that-aint-news-no-more @brooklyn-is-here @thatsrichhhh @the-cowbi @heyy--adora

==================================== 

“Stella, we leave tomorrow.” She looked over at her fiancés, a terrified look in her eyes. “So does Alex. You two better look after him, and yourselves.” She says, giving them both hugs. In the morning she goes with the two to the train. “Come back safe, alright?” She says

Stars was sitting at her kitchen table, about two months after the two were deployed. She went and picked up her mail, her heart stopping as she saw an official looking letter. She picked it up, reading it over, before screaming and falling to her knees. She began sobbing, rereading the letter, praying that somehow if she kept rereading it it would vanish, or the words on the paper would change. Her hands shook, as she somehow made her way back inside the apartment, and sat down, sobbing into her arms

She stood at the back of the funeral, people who had known the two men were there, but Stars couldn’t manage to be close to them. She had tears streaming down her face, her engagement rings on a necklace. She looked up as someone walked in, recognizing that it was Tate, and walking over to him, accepting the hug. “Thank you for being here.” 

A few weeks later her heart dropped as she got another letter, collapsing and crying again. When the funeral came she seemed to not be able to stop crying, and saw Tate again. She tried to say something to him, but she just couldn’t force the words out. Tate took her hand and gave it a squeeze, and she looked at him, nodding

Her and Tate moved in together after Otters death, and she tried so hard to keep acting like everything was normal, but eventually she just stopped. She couldn’t function, she couldn’t move, she was sitting down on a bed against the wall, just completely still. She didn’t move for a week, tears the only sign that she was even alive. Slowly, after a week, she shook her head, letting herself feel. It was painful, but a contrast to the numbing despair she had felt for the past week. “Tate?” She called. It was weak, trembling, and broken, but she called out for him. Said man came, looking just as broken as her. She hugged him, muttering his name once again and beginning to cry. He hugged back, crying slightly. “You wanna go for a walk?” She asks. Tate nods, and the two begin walking through Manhattan. When they reach the bridge that leads to the Bronx, Stars freezes, her breath catching in her throat. She’s staring at the bridge, and all she can see and hear is the memories of shouts and laughter from her family. 

Memories of the four of them running across the bridge after the fight with Otters parents, grinning and triumphant, of them running across with all the older newsies following, Otter running across the bridge to them with a giant grin and a blush, of Captain and Locks asking her out on the bridge, of nights spent climbing the railings to point out constellations. Of Captain dancing with her while Locks drew, of her telling the two her name. Of Locks watching her and Captain jump off the bridge and into the river, before finally joining after learning to swim. 

She doesn’t know how long she was standing there lost in her memories, it could have been seconds, minutes, or hours, but she was broken out of her stupor by Tate pulling on her arm, moving to lead her away slowly. She tried to keep the bridge in her sight for as long as she can, trying to speak, tried to tell him she wanted to stay, but she can’t force the words out of her mouth. They walked back to Tate’s apartment, and Stars began cooking to try and distract herself. She cooked Otter’s favorite meal, the one Captain and Locks loved as well. She gave a plate to Tate and then to herself before sitting and pushing it around on her plate. “I miss them too…but they’d want us to survive, right?” Her voice is quiet, looking up at Tate as she speaks. He doesn’t meet her eyes, but she continues to speak. “And…and they’d want us to continue on, and they’d want us to live. To go out and live our lives to what we can.” She begins feeling nauseous, each word burning, but she continues on. She hears the fork clatter from Tate’s hand, and sees the tears but she keeps going. “And-and you and I both know it.” She gets up from the table, the nauseous feeling taking over, and she runs to puke, but she felt a bit proud, having managed to speak and get her points across. Sitting down again she picks up her fork but only pushes her food around, not able to eat any of it. She feels Tate take her hand and give it a little squeeze, and she stares at their hands in silence before speaking. “Tell me about him.” Her voice is quiet but encouraging. As Tate begins to speak, she squeezes his hand occasionally, encouraging him. None of the information Tate told her was new to her, but hearing it come from someone else made her feel a bit happy for the first time in a while. When he’s done he squeezes her hand. “Tell me about them.” Her voice is a bit raspy as she speaks, but she does. She tells all the stories from hen they were newsies, stopping when she reached the day they all aged out. Once she finished Tate goes: “Let's go for a walk.” 

“I want to try and go to the Bronx tomorrow.” The sentence is random and out of the blue, but she had had it on her mind for a while, and she looked at Tate over their dinner. “Alright. I wanted to go too, so we’ll go together.” Stars nods at that, beginning to eat again. Come the next day she’s very hesitant to cross the bridge, stopping every few steps, and she feels like she can’t talk again, a lump caught in her throat. Tate slowly pulls her along, moving across the bridge. She stops right at the edge of the bridge, holding onto Tates hand with one hand and the ring necklace with the other, just staring at the place that used to be her home. She doesn’t notice Tate step off, but when she looks at him he’s in the bronx, and still holding her hand. Taking a shaky breath, she steps off the bridge and slowly walks forward a few steps. She begins walking to the lodge, and leads him up to the roof, unable to speak, but squeezing his hand with a small smile to thank him

Stars sat down as she stared at her stomach, one that had begin to show slightly. “I’m pregnant…” she mumbles, holding her arms over her stomach protectively. “Hey baby...I’m gonna take care of you, I promise…” she gets up quickly, scribbling a note saying where she had gone for Tate, and began running, all the way to the Bronx, to Otter’s beach, and sat at the edge of the water. She held her arms over her stomach, feeling the slight bump there, and began crying. “Hey baby, my baby, I’m going to protect you, always.” She mutters to her bump. She stays there for a few hours, just sitting, until Tate finds her. He sits next to her, and her arms go around her torso again. “I have a baby.” She mumbles, not sure if he heard her, but he pulled her to stand up. 

Come the day of her child's birth, Stars lay in bed, crying for Captain and Locks, squeezing Tate’s hand as she pushed her baby out. She was exhausted after the labor, but she had a smile on her face as she held the gurgling baby. “Hey baby...I’m your mama…” she held him gently, looking at his face. “What’s-What’s his name?” Tate asks. “Thomas Peter Alexander Pacino.” It takes a few seconds for the significance of the name to register to Tate, it seems, but when it does he looks ready to cry. “It’s a beautiful name.” Stars nods, looking up at the midwife as she comes in. She looks him over, before looking at Stars with an apologetic look in her eyes. “His leg is crippled.” Stars gasps, beginning to cry a bit, but asks to hold him again, and the midwife hands her her baby before leaving again. “He’s gonna be ok.” Tate says to her, and she nods. “I know he is. He’s perfect.” Tate nods, and she looks at him. “Do you want to be his godfather?” Tate looked like he had done a double take, but nodded. Stars grins at him. “You wanna hold him?” Tate nods, and Stars goes to hand him to Tate. She begins falling asleep a bit, being exhausted from giving birth. 

“Mama?” Stars looked up from what she was doing at the sound of Thomas’ voice. “Yes baby?” “Where are my dads? Why can’t I meet them?” Stars sighs, at his question, beckoning him to come closer. He does, and she picks up the seven year old and puts him on her lap. “Your dads died in the war, months before you were born...do you want to go see them?” she asks. Thomas nods, and Stars sets him down and hands him his crutch. As they walk, she takes his free hand, and Tate joins them. She walks to the cemetery, and leads Thomas over to the plot of three graves. “These two....these two are your dads...and that’s Tate's husband, Otter.” she sits in front of the two grave, staring at where her fiances were buries, playing with the three rings on the necklace. “Uncle Tate? Can you tell me about him?” Thomas asks, looking at him. He listens to Tate tell stories, and interrupts him when he mentions swimming. “Can we go swimming?” He asks, grinning. His giant grin was out of place in the cemetery, but brought comfort to the two still grieving adults. “Yeah, I know a spot, come on.” Stars answers, pushing herself up and handing Thomas his crutch.

The three began the walk to the bronx, and Stars led them down to Otter’s beach. Tate swam out a bit, and Stars stayed at the edge of the water. “Go on. Swim to Tate.” Thomas began swimming out to him, and Stars laughed as she watched them. “Mama! Come in!” Thomas called. Stars shook her head, she hadn’t swam since before Otter was deployed, when her, Captain, Locks, and Otter decided to spend the day together at the little beach. “Please mama!” Thomas begged, and Stars sighed, walking into the river. Thomas (and Tates) cheers as she swam out to them made her laugh. “Alright, alright.” she says, but her tone is full of laughter. Thomas swam over to her, and she giggled as she held him close. Thomas laughed, and Stars froze, realizing his laugh sounded almost identically like Captains did when they were the same age. “Mama?” Thomas asks, having seen her freeze. She shook her head at the concern in his voice, quickly snapping out of it. “What happened?” Stars just shook her head. “Don’t worry about it baby.” She says, kissing his temple. 

At eleven years old, Thomas was going through the boxes in his moms closet, trying to find the one that had the old outfits they were going to give away. He opened one box, seeing three dusty newsboy caps in it. He pulled one out, gently wiping the dust off of it. “Mom!” He called, Stars stood at the doorway. “Yes?” She asks, before spotting the cap in his hand. She walked over and kneeled next to him, taking the cap and wiping a certain spot. “This was Peter’s.” She says, handing it back to him. She pulls another one out, wiping dust off a certain spot. “Thomas’.” She pulls the last one out, not even needing to dust it off. “And mine.” She hits it gently on her leg, trying to get the dust off it. Thomas took the dust off his dads, picking one to try on, before turning to his mom. She smiles at him, tears pricking at her eyes, but a smile on her face, with her own cap on. “You were newsies?” Thomas asks. “We...we were the leaders of the Bronx…” Stars says, and Thomas’ grin grows. “You were?” Stars smiles, and digs through another box, pulling out a box of old papers. “Those two are your dads...theres me...look, that’s Otter and Tate!” a few tears slipped down her face, and she went quiet as she ruffled through the box. She pulled out a drawing on an old sheet of paper, being gentle with it as she moved. More slowly roll down her cheeks, and she moves it away. It was a drawing of her and Captain dancing on the bridge, and she holds it before putting it aside and going back to the box. She pulls out the photo of just the three off them after the strike was settled, and another one next to it with all four of them. “I wish I could’ve met them…” Thomas mutters, staring at the photos. His mom looked so much younger, so much carefree, and so much happier. “They would’ve loved you baby, so much.” and she brings him close to her, kissing his head. 

One day, when he was fifteen, the day had a different feel. The apartment was quiet, not filled with the quiet chatter that usually did. He grabbed his crutch and moved quietly, as if disturbing the silence would be disastrous. His moms door was shut, and she wasn’t anywhere else in the small apartment. “Uncle Tate?” He called, moving to look for him. Said man was in the kitchen, trying to make some food. “Morning Thomas.” He says, and he looks a bit anxious. “Where’s mom?” he asks, shifting his weight. Tate sighs. “Todays just a bad day for her. Normally she’d try to keep going and get up, but today she’s just not having a good day.” Thomas nodded. “Todays the day they died, isn’t it?” he asks, looking at the closed door. Tate nods. “Yeah...give her a bit, ok?” Tate puts a hand on Thomas’ shoulder, and the boy nods. After a few hours passed, and no one had heard anything from Stars, Thomas takes his crutch and puts down his sketchbook, moving to go into his mom’s room. He opened the door and saw her laying on her bed in the dark, and Thomas closed the door behind him and made his way over to her bad. He climbed into it with her, and cuddled into her like he would when he was younger. She pulled him closer to her, playing with his hair. “I love you, so much baby…” she mumbles, kissing his temple. “I love you too mom.” He could see a few tears falling down her face and cuddles into her. “Can we go to the park tomorrow?” Thomas asks. Stars smiles at him. “You want to go now?” she asks. Thomas hesitantly nods, and Stars smiles. “I’ll be out in a few. Go get whatever you’re bringing.” 

At age sixteen, before Christmas, Thomas snuck into his moms room and took the newspaper clipping from when the strike was settled. He grabbed the bag of money he had saved and began making his was to the small store nearby, looking at the frames, and getting the clipping fit. He had the wooden frame engraved with stars, an anchor, a wave, and a lock in each corner. Buying a few newspapers from newsies he saw on the way back he wrapped it in them before hiding it in his sock drawer. Come Christmas, Thomas brought the photo out with him to where Stars and Tate were waiting. He opened his gifts, a new set of pencils, a small pocket knife, and a new drawing book. He gave Tate the small drawing he had made for him, of the memory he has of them in the water when he was younger. His hands shook slightly as he handed Stars hers. “I know it’s already yours and I shouldn’t have taken it without asking, but I wanted to get it framed…” He looks at his mom, who was crying, but had a smile. “Thank you Thomas.” She says, smiling at him. 

#Stars #The Three™️ #Tate #Newsies OC

[jade4813]

The Lies We Tell Ourselves, Chapter 8

Fandom: Zoey’s Extraordinary Playlist

Title: The Lies We Tell Ourselves

Rating: PG (I’m assuming it’ll stay there?)

Pairing: Zoey/Max

Synopsis: Max would do anything for Zoey. Including posing as her fake boyfriend to give her father one last “big moment” to celebrate with her. Nothing could possibly go wrong. After all, it’s only his heart that stands to be broken. Right?

Chapter: 8/?

Author’s Notes: Takes place after Zoey’s Extraordinary Glitch.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Zoey rarely awoke with the kind of unbridled optimism that made her feel like the world had her back and everything was going to go her way. Actually, she pretty much never woke up with that feeling. But when she opened her eyes the next morning, she bounced out of bed with a smile on her face that even awareness of the early hour couldn’t diminish. As she waited for her coffee to finish brewing, she poked a nose out her window and saw that the sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and it promised to be a beautiful day. A perfect day, in fact.

The perfect day to tell Max how she felt about him.

Maybe they could even call off sick afterwards and spend the rest of this beautiful day in bed. With no pillows or blankets between them this time.

A shiver of anticipation shot down her spine, and she was tempted to start singing again. It took a force of effort, but she refrained, knowing that would only attract Mo’s attention. As much as she loved her friend and treasured his advice, she was eager to get to work and see Max. Her Max. Could she call him that now? She certainly thought about him that way. To see her Max and tell him how much she loved him and that she wasn’t scared anymore.

She got an idea, so after she flipped down the lever to start toasting her breakfast, she grabbed a piece of paper and jotted down a quick note for Mo. As soon as the bread popped up again, she grabbed her rather uninspiring breakfast of dry toast and hot coffee and raced out the door. After trying to figure out how she felt about Max for months, it seemed she now couldn’t wait another minute to see him.

Stepping into the hall, she paused long enough to slip the note under Mo’s door. “Next time I see you, I will have earned that bacon!”

With that task done, and feeling incredibly pleased with herself, she hopped up on her toes and raced out the door. It was going to a beautiful, perfect day. Impatient even for the few minutes it would take to see him to pass, she pulled out her phone and reread their text exchange from the night before. In her euphoric, romantic haze, it didn’t occur to her now any more than it had to her then, how uncharacteristically brief and abrupt he’d been in his responses.

“Leif said you weren’t feeling well. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, thanks. I’ll be fine.”

“This isn’t because I stole your side of the bed last night, is it?” she’d joked, ending the question with a grinning emoji.

“No, of course not.”

“Well, I hope you feel better! If you’re feeling up to it, my mom wanted to have a movie night tomorrow. You want to come? I should warn you, there’s a 50/50 chance it ends in a game of charades or something.” It was a family tradition they usually didn’t inflict upon friends and other guests, but they’d long since invited – or, some might say, coerced – Max into joining in. Zoey shook her head, wondering how she hadn’t caught on to the significance of that sooner. “When I talked to David earlier, he mentioned Emily, a rematch, and something about a blood debt.” Unsurprising to everyone, Emily did not take a defeat lying down, and Zoey and Max had always been a formidable team.

She watched the three ellipses flash at the bottom of the screen for a few moments, and then his response came through. “No problem. I’ll be there.”

Worried she was pushing him when he wasn’t feeling well, she texted, “You sure you’re okay? I could bring you some chicken noodle soup if you’re sick.”

A full minute passed before she received his response. “No, I’ll be okay. Just need to lie down.”

“All right, well…I’ll see you tomorrow at work. Feel better!”

“See you.”

Smiling at their brief exchange, ignorant about what was to follow, Zoey slipped her phone into her pocket and picked up her pace. It wouldn’t be long before she saw Max, she hoped. And then… well, and then, everything was going to be all right.

When she walked into SPRQ Point offices a few minutes later, however, her joy morphed to confusion. Max was dressed in a suit, standing by the windows and staring out at the beautiful blue sky. Whether because he heard the ding of the elevator or by coincidence, she couldn’t be sure, but he turned when she walked into the room. Without moving from his spot, his bowed head failing to entirely obscure his expression of sorrow and loss, he began to sing his heart song.

“I know I can’t take one more step towards you, ‘cause all that’s waiting is regret. Don’t you know I’m not your ghost anymore. You lost the love I loved the most. I learned to live, half alive. And now you want me one more time.”

Zoey stumbled to a halt, looking at him in confusion. She’d had her superpower for long enough to no longer be surprised at hearing one of his heart songs, but she hadn’t expected to hear this one. After everything that happened between them, after the heart song he’d sung her the morning before, why was he singing to her now of loss and heartache?

He continued, turning back to the window and resting his weight against one arm as he stared out at the city. “Who do you think you are? Runnin’ ‘round leaving scars. Collecting your jar of hearts, and tearing love apart. You’re gonna catch a cold from the ice inside your soul. So don’t come back for me. Who do you think you are?”

“Max?” she asked, taking another step forward.

As always during a heart song, he acted like he hadn’t heard her question as he pivoted on one foot, walking over to his desk. He began to dump items into a large cardboard box as he sang, “It took so long just to feel alright, remember how to put back the light in my eyes. I wish I had missed the first time that we kissed. ‘Cause you broke all your promises. And now you’re back. You don’t get to get me back.”

Desperate to understand what was happening, Zoey raced to his side, reaching out to put one hand on his arm. “Who do you think you are? Runnin’ ‘round leaving scars. Collecting your jar of hearts, and tearing love apart. You’re gonna catch a cold from the ice inside your soul. So don’t come back for me. Who do you think you are?”

His song trailed off, and Zoey asked softly, her voice uncertain, “Max? What’s – what’s going on? Is everything okay?” Her heart ached from his song, but she still didn’t understand the meaning of it.

“Hey, Zoey!” he said, ignorant of what she had just heard, and though he sounded cheerful, his expression was reserved. “Everything’s great!” He hesitated, giving some item he’d pulled from the bottom of his desk drawer a dubious look before throwing it in the trash. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you, actually. I was offered a promotion a couple of days ago, so I’ll be moving up to the sixth floor!”

Zoey felt like she was drowning, gasping for air. She couldn’t understand how Max could act like everything was fine. Like it was downright normal. First that song, and now he was leaving? Leaving their offices? Leaving her? Of course, he was moving two floors, not taking a rocket to the moon. But after the sorrow in his song, it felt like he was putting more than two floors between them. It felt like she was losing him completely.

Although she recognized that she should be happy for Max for his promotion, which sounded like an amazing opportunity he totally deserved, she was still reeling from his song. She had to admit that she was also a little hurt. He’d been offered a promotion and he hadn’t told her about it? They were supposed to be dating! Well…fake-dating. What was going on?

In a shaky voice, she said brightly, “Wow! That’s…amazing, Max! And very well-deserved. I’m – I’m very happy for you.”

He knew her well enough that she expected him to call her on the fact that her professed enthusiasm was belied by the fact she sounded like she wanted to cry, but he didn’t. “Thanks!”

She wanted to cry, and she couldn’t hold back her confusion any longer. “Look, can we talk for a second? In private?”

Max glanced around the nearly-empty office and then shrugged. “Sure. I need to catch Joan when she comes in, but I have a few minutes.”

Desperately needing answers, she led him to the empty hallway leading between the meditation room and the restrooms before realizing she didn’t know what to say. His heart song was the last thing she expected to hear this morning, as was the revelation he was leaving. It had barely begun to sink in; she certainly hadn’t had the time to get her thoughts in order enough to ask him relevant questions. Should she even tell him about the heart song she’d just heard? She probably should, but she didn’t know how.

In silence, she rocked back and forth from one foot to the other, trying to find the words. Finally, when she watched him glance towards the exit for the third time, she blurted, “Max, I really am happy for you. I swear. But I guess I’m just a little…confused. I thought…well, I mean, I-I don’t really understand why you didn’t tell me about this sooner.”

His fake smile didn’t so much as falter. “Oh, yeah. Sorry about that. I probably should have told you about it, but, you know how things get around here. I guess I just got wrapped up in work and it slipped my mind.”

“Slipped your – Max, what’s going on?” Not receiving an answer right away, she admitted, “I heard you sing out there. A heart song. It was…you sounded so heartbroken. Talk to me.”

His smile fell, and he looked at a spot over her left shoulder as he stepped away from her, saying in a hollow voice, “I don’t know what you mean.”

A tiny sob escaped before she could bite it back, and Zoey pushed her hair off of her face with hands that shook with the agonized grief she was trying not to show. In the back of her mind, she suspected she knew what had happened, but she couldn’t believe it – didn’t want to believe it – so she pushed that thought away. Her breath tight in her chest, she couldn’t bear to look into his face and see him look at her in a way he never had before. He looked at her like she was a stranger, his eyes cold, his expression distant. Like he was looking through her, rather than at her.  “Max…please. I-I don’t understand. I-I just…” Stumbling towards him, she pressed her hands against his chest. “Please. Talk to me. I can fix this. Tell me how to fix this.”

For a few, precious moments, his mask slipped. His eyes were soft and yearning, and she almost flinched at the pain on his face. “Zoey, I don’t – I’m not trying to hurt you.”

“But you are! You are hurting me! Just…I know the two of us can fix this. I know it. Please…don’t…tell me what I can do. Don’t give up on me.” Earlier that morning, she’d been so excited, so eager to tell him she wanted their relationship to be real. In the last ten minutes, she felt like she’d lost everything. She had run from him so long, letting the specter of fear hold her back from even giving him a chance. She’d been terrified she would lose him one day, but having him look at her now like he didn’t even know her brought a pain that was worse than she ever could have imagined. In one last, hopeless gamble, she begged, “We’re supposed to be friends. Aren’t we?”

“We are friends,” he breathed softly. “That’s what I’m trying to be. Your friend.” With that cryptic comment, he raised one hand to brush away a tear as it slid down her cheek, but then he paused. His hand hovered mere inches from her face before he let it fall without touching her.

“Then why aren’t you talking to me? I know it’s not real, but we’re supposed to be in a relationship. People in relationships – even fake relationships – tell each other things, don’t they?”

It seemed to be the exact wrong thing to say, as she felt the muscles under her palms stiffen, and though he was no longer smiling, that cold, detached look returned to his face. She’d never realized before how much love was in Max’s eyes when he looked at her, until now that he’d hidden it away. She might as well have been staring at a stranger, and she flinched, pulling her hands off his chest.

He looked down at his chest, where she’d been touching him moments before, and said softly, “That’s the thing though, isn’t it, Zoey? It wasn’t real. None of it was.”

Through her tears, Zoey watched Max start to leave, and she stumbled after him. She couldn’t let this be the end. “Wait! I know I’ve hurt you, but I came here today…I wanted to tell you that I love you, and I’m not scared anymore. I want to be with you.” He stumbled to a halt, his shoulders stiff, as though he was struggling to hold himself together. But he didn’t turn around. “You told me that if I meant it in the morning, you’d believe me, right? Well…I know it’s a little late, but I mean it. I love you, and I want to be with you.”

With none of the fluid grace that usually accompanied his movements, Max turned slightly to look at her over his shoulder. She expected anger, but there was a combination of agony and despair in his voice when he replied, “Well, then, I guess I need to apologize for being a liar. Because, I’m sorry, but I don’t believe you.” She gasped, a ragged intake of air, as he stormed through the glass doors enclosing the hall, the hinges making a loud crack as they flew open.

By the time she’d regained her composure and returned to the office, Max and his things were gone.

There was part of Zoey that wondered if she’d never see him again, so she was surprised when, at the end of a long and miserable day, Max walked off the elevator and headed towards her desk. His coat tossed over his arm, he asked, “Hey, are you ready?”

“Ready?” she asked, her eyes itchy and burning from all the tears she’d forced back over the course of the day. “Ready for what?”

“Oh, I thought…that thing with your parents. I thought that was tonight. Did I get the day wrong?” Frowning slightly, he pulled out his phone and tapped the screen, pulling up his texts.

Rising to her feet, Zoey shook her head. “No, you got it right. I just didn’t think you’d want to do this anymore. All things considered.”

That remote mask she hated so much was firmly in place as he replied, “I made a promise, and this is for Mitch, right? I’m up for it if you are. If you still think it’ll make him happy.”

She wanted to scream at him, pound against his chest, anything to get a real reaction out of him. Tell him that of course she didn’t want to do this anymore, not when he was ripping out her heart with every detached, impersonal look he gave her. But she also longed to be close to him, wanting to grab him by the arms and force him to listen to her. To believe her. To act like he loved her again.

“Zoey? Do you want me to go?” he asked softly, almost sounding like himself again as she stared morosely at her desk in silence and tried to decide what to do.

Those six little words, “do you want me to go,” made her feel like her heart was physically ripping in two, and that was enough to make the decision for her. Even if it hurt to be near him, being without him would hurt even more. If he could carry on with his charade, so could she. And maybe, in the meantime, she could find a way to get through to him again. “No,” she said abruptly. “I don’t want you to go.”

It was strange to realize that it was the little things from Max that she missed the most, Zoey marveled as she took his hand and gave it a tug, silently asking him for a kiss. She didn’t know what compelled her to do it. Was she testing him, or just torturing herself? Either way, he dutifully leaned down and brushed his lips against hers in a perfunctory embrace before walking with her to the elevator.

From the outside, they probably looked like everything was as it had been the day before, but Zoey could feel the difference – in his dispassionate kiss, and the way his hand lay still in her own. She’d never realized before how often the feeling of Max’s hand in hers had felt like a small caress, his fingers tightening around her own, his thumb brushing softly and comfortingly along hers. Now, holding his hand was just another reminder that, even though he was right next to her, his heart was a million miles away, locked up tight somewhere she could no longer reach. Even when he spoke to her, it was to talk about the weather, the rush hour traffic – absolutely everything except anything that actually mattered.

She didn’t know what compelled her to do it, as they headed towards her parents’ house. Maybe it was out of a need to feel some passion from him again, even if it was anger. Just to remember what it had been like when she’d had Max in her life, and not this automaton that wore a face she’d come to love so much. Whatever her motives, she blurted, “Max, we should talk. About the kiss.”

For the first time that evening, that got a reaction out of him. His fingers pressed against hers, less a squeeze than a quick spasm. “I don’t really want to talk about that.”

“We have to,” she pressed. “We can’t just leave things – us – like this.”

His face was averted from her, but she heard his heavy sigh. “All right. Which kiss do you want to talk about? The one outside of SPRQ Point, or the one in Simon’s office? Because I kind of feel like they speak for themselves, don’t you?”

There was a certain measure of relief in knowing that her suspicion was right, and he’d somehow seen the ill-conceived embrace in Simon’s office. At least she had an answer for his coldness, even if it was the absolute last one she wanted. “Max, that kiss…it wasn’t what you think!”

He feigned surprise. “It wasn’t? Was he choking on something and you were trying to dislodge it with your tongue? Because that’s not how I learned the Heimlich Maneuver.”

“Stop it,” she snapped, yanking her hand from his. “You’re doing it again. Don’t make jokes about this. This is serious -”

Whatever control he’d had on his emotions all day, allowing him to present his impersonal mask to her, it slipped as he lurched to a stop, spinning to face her. “You think I don’t know that? You think I’m not taking this seriously? Zoey, I don’t know what you expect from me, but I just can’t do this anymore! I can’t keep putting myself out there time and time again, only to…do you have any idea how it felt for me, seeing that?”

“Max, listen. I know how it looked. I do. But it really wasn’t – it didn’t mean anything! It was just -”

His head jerked as he swallowed heavily. “Well, I wish it did. Because if my heart was going to be broken, I would have preferred it actually meant something.”

Frustrated with him and angry at herself for having brought them to this, she felt her hands form fists at her sides. “I know you’re angry with me, but you know that’s not what I meant,” she snapped.

Like a puncture in a balloon, she watched as the air left his body, seemingly taking his will to fight along with it. His shoulders sagged, and his head bowed as though he carried the weight of the world. Defeated, he said softly, “You’re wrong. I’m not mad at you, Zoey. Not really. I’m mad at me. You were honest with me from the beginning. You told me none of this meant anything. And I knew it; I reminded myself of it, time and time again. But, even still, I stupidly let myself believe it did. I let myself believe…I don’t know. That you loved me. Or maybe that there was a chance one day you even could.”

She breathed his name, hopelessly trying to find a way to make him listen. Knowing he was about to leave. But then, just when she expected him to turn and walk away, he did what she’d so recently come to realize that he always did. He pushed his own pain aside and tried to offer her comfort. Instead of walking away, he moved closer to her, cupping his face in his and leaning down to press his forehead against her own. “I’m sorry. Don’t cry, sweetheart. Please don’t cry.” She didn’t even realize she was until she felt him brush his thumbs across her cheeks, wiping away her tears. “I don’t what to hurt you. I just don’t know how to do…this. I don’t know how to stop loving you, and I don’t know how to kill that part of me that wishes…” His voice trailed off, the rest too painful to say.

“But I do love you,” she admitted miserably, reaching up to press a hand against his cheek. “I wanted to tell you this morning. I realized it yesterday. I don’t know what took me so long, but you have to believe me.”

She could tell that he didn’t in the way he avoided responding, turning his head to press a kiss against her palm as he pulled away. “It’s all right,” he reassured her. “Don’t feel guilty. It’ll be all right.”

She shivered at the press of his lips against her skin, but he seemed to misunderstand the response, as he grabbed the coat he still carried over his arm and slung it over her shoulders. Glancing towards her parents’ house, he murmured, “What do you want me to do, Zoey? If you want me to go in there with you, I will, but if you want me to go, I’ll go. Whatever you want, just tell me and I’ll do it.”

#the lies we tell ourselves #zoey clarke #max richman #fanfiction #my fanfiction #zep #zoey's extraordinary playlist #zomax #clarkeman #fake dating au

[charmingcentry]

Bechloe - Rain

time for some sad beca unfortunately. (somewhere in pp2)

The door slams in front of Beca’s face who appears to be holding back tears, her eyes glossy and fists clenched, her knuckles turning extremely white. Jesse had just dumped the poor girl after the two got into their fourth argument this week alone. The brunette knew it was coming, but this was the first long-term relationship that Beca has ever had... let alone her first boyfriend! It was a mutual breakup, but still, a breakup just does something to a person. 

She’s standing at the Treblemaker’s doorstep, breathing heavily and trying not to break out into sobs. On top of that, it just had to be fucking raining of all days; the day where they call things off, it just had to be raining and Beca didn’t have an umbrella with her. Wanting to get as far away from the Treblemaker’s house as possible, she removes the black leather jacket she had been wearing and drapes it over her head; she storms off back to the Bella house, using the pitter-pattering noises from the raindrops that fell on her jacket as a distraction from the words Jesse had used earlier this evening.

(”Jesus Beca! Why don’t you get your head out of your ass and just realize that you’re in love with Chloe! You two act more like a couple that we do. Don’t think I don’t notice you letting Chloe kiss you on the cheek every now and then and the little stares that you two share! And the fact that she’s the only person that you allow to touch you, I think it’s pretty clear who you’re in love with.”)

Meanwhile, Chloe is sat in bed, rereading a Harry Potter novel, disappointed that it is pouring heavily outside. She looked forward to attending the BU Harmonics party but of course, didn’t feel like going out drinking as the rain ruined the atmosphere of a fun party. I mean, the redhead didn’t feel like going anyway since Beca decided to spend her time with Jesse when the party would happen. But still, that damn rain has to ruin everything.

Stacie is sitting at the kitchen island with Legacy, helping the newly recruited Barden Bella with Physics homework when they hear the main door slam open. The noises from the rain pounding down outside can be heard, as well as sloshing noises from what Stacie assumes to be from a pair of wet shoes. Emily and Stacie look towards the door, noticing a drenched upset looking brunette with her makeup completely ruined.

“Becs, are you oka-

“I’m totally fine Legacy, just peachy.” Beca snaps, aggressively untying the laces of her shoes by the door. She pulls her shoes off, each time with a frustrated grunt let out. 

“Woah Beca, what’s wrong?” Stacie asks. “Did Jesse do something?” Beca’s eyes gloss over once again, filling with anger and frustration.

“Jesus what’s with all the questions right now! I said I’m fine! Just, I’ll be in my room...” Emily flinches at her captain’s temper, giving Beca a sad-puppy expression when the brunette runs up the stairs. Stacie stands up and pats Legacy on her shoulder. 

“I’ll go tell Chlo. Stay here.”

For the first time, Stacie is glad that the house is somewhat empty, seeing that the rest of the Bellas left for a party that the BU Harmonics were hosting. It leaves silence for the angry brunette and more of a calmer atmosphere. She makes her way up the stairs and once at the top, she immediately hears muffled sobs coming from Beca’s bedroom. Stacie has the urge to barge in and talk with Beca but she knows damn well that Chloe would be the only person the brunette will talk to. So, the strawberry-blonde Bella walks further down the hall, grimacing at the sobs that have now turned into frustrated screams. She eventually arrives at Chloe’s door and slams it open, right away Chloe screams and flings a book that she was reading across her room. 

“You scared the crap out of me Stace, I-

“Beca is crying.” Is all Stacie had to say for the redhead to shoot up and run down to the brunette’s room. Stacie smiles when she sees Chloe softly knock at Beca’s door, feeling more relieved when she sees the redhead enter. The tall Bella walks back down to where Legacy is sitting patiently. “Okay, let’s go over circular motion.” As Stacie goes over a Physics problem, Chloe is rubbing circles on Beca’s back, her black t-shirt still drenched from her venture out in the rain. The brunette sobs into her pillow as Chloe remains silent, intending to talk when Beca seems open about discussing with what happened. But for now, she needs to get her best friend (and crush) out of these wet clothes before she catches an illness. Chloe walks over to where Beca’s drawer is, opening one of them, immediately being met with a clutter of clothes simply thrown in the drawer. She makes a plan to organize her clothes later, but for now, she grabs a pair of dry clothes and taps Beca lightly on her shoulder. “Hey, I brought you some dry clothes... I don’t want you getting sick.” Beca nods and pushes herself up, the brunette looks and is acting like freshman Beca all over again... it hurt Chloe to see her in this state. Beca removes her shirt and pulls on the dry one, immediately unclasping her bra right after and then removing the rest of her wet outfit in replace of a dry one. Beca pulls her knees up to her chest and places her forehead down, arms wrapped securely around her legs. Meanwhile, Chloe grabs a brush from Beca’s bedside table and sits next to her.

“He broke up with me Chloe,” Beca utters, voice weak and grating from the screaming and sobbing. Chloe places a soft kiss on top of Beca’s head and starts to brush her hair, staying silent since she knows the brunette would keep talking. “It was mutual... but I still feel like shit. He was my first Chlo! My first boyfriend... my first long-term relationship... God, I’m such an idiot.” Chloe continues brushing her hair out.

“You are not an idiot Becs, far from actually. If anything Jesse is the idiot, he just lost an amazing woman and anyone would be lucky to have you.” The corner of Beca’s mouth perks up and she gives a playful eye roll. 

“Thanks, I guess.”

The redhead continues to brush her hair, humming Beca’s favorite song, Titanium. Her hair slowly began to frizz once it started to dry, but Chloe still continued brushing her hair. There was selfishness sat within her, a large one as a matter of fact. Chloe felt selfish for thinking she now has a chance with Beca now that Jesse has broken up with her... the redhead felt absolutely terrible for that thought slipping through her mind. Yet Chloe couldn’t let that bother her, she has to be there for her best friend right now. She slips those thoughts away and places the brush back on the bedside table, looking at Beca’s solemn face.

“You okay?” Chloe says, already knowing the answer but, it never hurts to ask

“Totally... just got dumped after a four-year relationship, no biggie.” The brunette replies, trying to make it sound playful but Chloe could notice the bitterness and sarcasm behind that statement. The redhead pauses for a bit, unsure of what to say, desiring to confess to Beca right here right now, but she knows that now isn’t the time.

“Well if you need anything, I’ll be in my room. Okay?” The redhead begins to stand up before Beca gently pulls her back down by the wrist, hand still attached once Chloe is still on the bed.

“I- you, can you just like... um, er, stay with me... here.” The redhead faintly smiles at Beca. “If you’re not busy with Worlds or whatever...”

“I’m not busy, don’t worry. I’ll stay.”

Chloe moves to the headboard of the bed, sitting up straight. She pats the empty space next to her, signaling Beca to sit next to her. The brunette slowly scoots over next to Chloe as the redhead wraps an arm around her, resting her left hand on the brunette’s waist. Beca eventually curls into Chloe’s entire left side, the brunette’s arms lazily wrapped around Chloe’s waist as well. Beca is resting her head against the redhead’s chest as they both sit there, listening to the sound of heavy rain outside. Chloe begins humming the tune of Titanium once more as she uses her right hand to pull a blanket over the two. Beca slowly closes her eyes that are exhausted from the sobbing and her abnormal breathing from the crying returns to normal. The redhead smiles once she notices the steady breathing pattern that came from Beca as well as her body feeling heavier. Chloe looks down at Beca as a tear falls down her cheek.

One day Chloe, one day.

Maybe the rain isn’t so bad after all.

#bechloe #beca mitchell #chloe beale #pitch perfect

[behind-the-hood]

Just reread the Hoe Laurent AU on AO3 and I have so many questions! How did D & L meet? Was it in the context of Laurent’s job or completely random? If random, how and when did Laurent tell D about his job? Why was Laurent a hoe? Is it related to his uncle? For the money, to pay for school? Does he now have another job since he’s committed to Damen? Does Kastor ever try to use it against Lamen and is shocked that Damen already knows? Does Jokaste know? Basically I want their whole story😍

Lazar's cock down his throat hadn't been the worst part of his day, but shoving a pillow over his face while he rode him to completion had certainly been the highlight.

Laurent turned his cheek to Lazar when he tried to kiss Laurent on his way out. "Awe, baby, don't be like that," he cooed, turning Laurent's chin.

"Lazar, get out before I kick you out."

Lazar laughed and left, promising to be back soon. And he would be. He came to Laurent easily twice a week.

And Laurent let him back into his bed, because despite the flirting, Lazar didn't actually want to commit himself to Laurent.

Which was fine, because Laurent wasn't looking for commitment. He liked having guys come to him to get their rocks off, to get his rocks off, and then leave because they had no further use for one another. It kept things simple. Laurent had too much going on in his life to worry about a boyfriend.

It was barely half an hour later before a knock came to his door. Jord stood on the other side, blushing and nervous. He always was when he came to Laurent. So Laurent pulled him in and took the lead, how Jord liked it.

-

Meeting Damen had been a turning point in his life. At first, it had just been a one off in a club's bathroom. But Damen had given him his number afterward, and Laurent had accepted, because Damen had a fantastic dick and Laurent would hate to never feel it inside him again.

Then the hookups started, and they were amazing too.

And before he knew it, he was turning people away at his door and instead waiting for Damen to come over so they could watch movies.

Something had blossomed so slowly and delicately between them, Laurent hadn't realized how hard he was falling for Damen until he was already head over heels. So when he got a job offer on the other side of the country, his dream job with the company he'd hoped to work for since he'd graduated high school, he'd been devistated.

He knocked on the door to Damen's apartment, and wanted to cry when Damen kissed him after he came in. He'd held his face in his hands and wasn't ready to let go.

He wasn't ready to let go.

Damen pulled away from him when he felt Laurent take a shuddering breath.

"Hey, what's wrong? What happened?" he asked, his voice gentle, hands holding Laurent's.

Laurent couldn't meet his eyes. He knew if he did, he would stay.

And he couldn't stay.

"I'm moving," he started. "I got a job offer and--and I couldn't turn it down."

Damen isn't dumb, he never was. He was silent for a moment, his hands growing tighter around Laurent's, then, "How far is it?" he'd asked, voice as broken as Laurent's.

"It's in New York," he'd whispered.

Damen had pulled Laurent into his arms, and he'd held him in the entryway to his apartment for what felt like an hour. It probably was.

Damen kissed his head, then held it to his chest. "Is this the end, then?"

Laurent's hands fisted into his shirt, and he bit his lip hard. He couldn't make himself say the words, so he'd nodded instead.

Damen let out a harsh breath and held him tighter. "I don't want it to be the end, Laurent."

And Laurent didn't want to come here only to leave in tears, but it had happened and he couldn't stop it. Laurent couldn't find his voice, his throat was too tight, choking back sobs and hiccups.

"I love you, Laurent."

And they broke free.

"Please," he begged. "Please, don't make this harder than it already is."

And Damen had nodded, because all he ever tried to do was make Laurent happy and comfortable. He was perfect. There would never be another like him.

Laurent could feel the tears falling into his hair, his own soaking into Damen's shirt.

They probably stood there for another hour, crying and trying to stop, and then crying some more.

When Damen finally caught his breath enough to speak, his mouth still pressed to Laurent's hair, he asked, "When do you leave?"

It took Laurent far longer to catch his own breath and answer. "They're giving me a month, so my lease runs out."

Damen nodded, sniffed.

Laurent squeezed his eyes shut, then loosened his grip. "I have to go, Damen," he whispered.

"Not yet," he pleaded.

"Damen."

"Let me come with you."

Laurent blinked, then turned his head up. Damen's eyes were rimmed red and his cheeks had tear track running down them. Laurent likely looked no better, and his hair was probably a mess. "What?"

"Let me come with you," he repeated. "We have such a beautiful story, Laurent. Don't let this be the end."

Laurent gave a wet laugh, because Damen would reference his passion. "Even the most popular love stories have tragic endings, Damen."

"Ours doesn't have to," he insisted.

Laurent frowned. "Your family is here. You wouldn't leave them."

"They will always be my family. But if I let you walk out that door, you'll never be mine again."

Laurent leaned back onto Damen's chest and shook his head. "I couldn't ask you to do that."

Damen held him tighter, like he wouldn't dare let Laurent go now. "You don't have to."

#origin story!! #sort of kinda mostly!! #sorry to disappoint nonny #laurent isnt a hooker #hes just a hoe for funsies #and for dick #and damen has the best dick #and the best heart 😭 #clearly they went together #ya know #based off the last bit #i cried writing this but im at that emotional bit of the month #i can cry from laughing too much #so im biased on if this was actually sad or not #so let me know!! #damen x laurent #laurianos #lamen #laurent x lazar #i want to tag this laurent x jord but it mostly isnt??? #captive prince #capri #cp #anonymous ask #anonymous #ask #and a regular ask shoved in there #👍 #prompt #bhndthhd

[stealth-spiderr]

you needed me. or someone // p.p.

this was requested by one of my loves @noneighborhood sorry it took so long rip i hope you like it xo

summary // it’s been stressful week and sometimes you just gotta cry and you best friend peter is there to make you feel better.

pairing // peter parker x reader

warnings // a lotta crying, swearing

word count // 1,257

It’s finally Friday, but honestly that doesn’t bring you any relief like it usually would. You’ve scarcely survived one of the most stressful weeks ever, 90% of your teachers decided to make big assignments all due this week and somehow you manged to get them all done. Barely. You’d lost countless hours of sleep trying to finish them to your standard of ‘good enough’ which was grade A material. And honestly? You didn’t feel like you’d met the bar.

Monday night you’d finished the first one, definitely not to your satisfaction but there more you changed little things the more you wanted to just scrap it and restart the whole thing, which you definitely didn’t have time for. So that night you forced yourself into bed and after a moment of staring at the ceiling, you broke. You rolled over and buried your face in your pillow to stifle your sobs.

You managed to make it to Wednesday before everything got to much for you once again. you’d walked into your most difficult class, handing in the assignment, which was definitely the one you struggled most to complete only to turn to your desk and see a surprise test on it. You hadn’t exactly been keeping up with class lately in order to get your assignments done so you knew you’d bomb this test badly. You’ve never left a classroom so fast after that test, not even on the last day of the year. You just needed to get out of there, it was getting harder to breathe every time you read and reread each question trying to understand exactly what it was asking. You bolted to the bathrooms, completely missing the concerned eyes of your best friend Peter following you.

Friday was just draining, you were beyond tired from your lack of sleep all week, and your numerous breakdowns didn’t help. Peter could tell how off you were, but normally you’d go to him if anything was bothering you so he hadn’t asked about it. But then he saw you practically falling asleep in your locker, he couldn’t leave it alone.

“Hey,” he says, shaking your shoulder.

It startles you and try to lean on your locker door but it swings away from you sending you falling but Peter catches you easily.

“Scared the hell out of me,” you mumble, pulling him into a hug.

“If you weren’t taking a nap in your locker, it wouldn’t have,” He says with a chuckle. “But seriously, are you getting enough sleep?”

“Yeah, of course.”

You don’t want to worry him, but he tilts his head and gives you a small glare. He can always tell when you’re not being honest with him.

“Look, if you’re up late worrying about my internship you don’t need to be, okay?”

You manage a soft smile and shake your head, “Jeez, Pete, I’m not always thinking about you. I just had a bunch of assignments due this week, that’s all.”

And that wasn’t a lie, because while you usually were kept awake worrying about Peter while he out saving Queens as Spider-man, your overwhelming workload definitely took the forefront of your mind the past few nights.

Peter nods in understanding before checking his phone and sighing.

“Go on, save the city,” you tell him.

He grins at you and starts walking away but turns back, “Maybe I could come by yours later? Make sure you don’t stay up all night.”

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Awesome, cool, I’ll see you later, then.”

“Bye, Pete.

And the second he’s gone the bubble of happy he created popped and a week’s worth of stress falls back on your shoulders. You’re slow leaving the school, the short walk to your car sapping most of your energy. You don’t have a long drive home, but right now it feels like it and you’re barely half way home when your eyes are filling with tears, dangerously clouding your vision.

“Fuck,” you shout, after wiping your eyes three times to get rid of the fast flowing tears.

You quickly pull over and you lose it. It doesn’t even matter if anyone can see you. You just let everything out, bringing your knees up onto the seat, turning to the side so you don’t accidentally bump the horn. Minutes go by and you’re still sobbing, your shirt is a mess from using it to wipe your face but you snap your head up when the passenger door opens. It’s Peter, pulling the spidey mask off so he can be just Peter with you.

“Pete, someone’s gonna see you,” you say in between sobs.

“I don’t care about that, I care about you, (Y/N). What’s wrong?” he answers, a gloved hand resting on your knee.

“God, what’s right? This week has been the worst, I had, like, six assignments due and I got a maximum of eight or nine hours sleep since Monday. I fell asleep in my locker for fuck’s sake! It’s too much.”

Your breathing speeds up again, and your fingers are digging into your shins so Peter grabs them and squeezes tight, thumbs rubbing along your knuckles softly. It takes a while but you calm down, your head resting on the seat, watching Peter with heavy eyes. He’s looking your joined hands, thumbs still moving over your skin but he brings his gaze to yours when you sniff and shift a little.

“I’m sorry you wasted your time here when you could have been saving Queens,” you mumble.

He lets go of one of your hands and brings it to your head, smoothing out your messy hair before cupping your cheek, “I was saving Queens, I was saving you.”

“I wasn’t in danger-”

“No, but you needed me. Or someone, at least. What kind of best friend would I be if I saw you crying in your car and just left you to it?”

“A shitty one.”

“Exactly.”

He examines you, looking like a right mess. Red eyes, swollen face, sticky with semi-dry tears. And yet, to Peter, you were still breath taking.

“You know I love you, right?” he asks.

“Yeah, of course I do. I love you too, so much,” you reply.

There’s a pause before Peter mumbles, “I love love you.”

He had no intention for you to hear it, but you did. He’d said it too loud for the quietness of the car and you took a sharp breath at words. Which Peter heard, instantly realising you’d heard his biggest secret he’d ever kept from you. His cheeks burned and he looked away from you to try and hide it but you could see the red as easily as the red of his suit.

“Pete-”

“No, you don’t need to say anything, I’m sorry if I ruined our friendship. I don’t want us to be weird, so if you need time I totally understand-”

“Peter, we aren’t going to be weird because we’re us. And I love love you too.”

“Really?”

You nod and he grins, bringing your hand he was still holding to his face and kissing it.

“Okay, so how about Spider-man takes the day off so he can cuddle with his girlfriend and watch movies?”

You crack a smile, “Sounds great to his girlfriend.”

You start the engine and pull back out onto the road in the direction of your place but Peter pats your arm and juts his thumb behind him.

“Actually can you turn around? I need to get my backpack or May will be so mad at me.”

please let me know if you do or don’t wanna be tagged xo taglist // @tomsfireheart // @tomhoellandb // @laucontrerasv // @spidey-pal // @paper-goonie // @hottrashformarvel // @kiwivevo // @bridiereads // @starksparker // @h-osterfield // @upsidedownparker // @shuriismyqueen // @spidey-shit // @thewiseandfree // @stephie-senpai // @bi-writes // @peters-vlogs // @noneighborhood // @caloe-vera // @starlightfound // @lafayettes-baguettes-1 // @lemirabitur 

#peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #tom holland imagine #em writes #also idk what happened with tagging layout there rip

[hopevorld]

— fragile; myg

pairing: gang!yoongi x reader genre/warnings: angst, very brief mention of injuries

#57 from the drabble game: “You could have died! I could have lost you!”

The morning sun peeks through the blinds and you can’t bring yourself to open your eyes as you roll over in the bed you share with your boyfriend, blindly reaching out an arm to pull him closer but instead of feeling Yoongi curled up beside you, you’re met with the cold sheet where he should be.

You frown, thinking back to last night when he’d woken you up whilst he was shifting about in bed, telling you that he’s just getting a glass of water and you should go back to sleep, I’ll be back in a second. 

Moving to sit against the headboard of the bed, you grab your phone on the bedside table and turn off airplane mode, allowing the notifications to come through after shutting the world out last night. Scrolling through the many emails and Facebook notifications you’d acquired overnight, you come across... 5 missed calls from Jimin and in total 24 messages from Hoseok and Taehyung which was a very uncommon occurrence. The most you’d get from them is 2 from Taehyung asking for music recommendations and 1 from Hoseok asking if Yoongi is awake to send him a file for their music projects.

[1:04am] kim taehyung:

____? it’s hyung 😓

he’s in trouble

its an emergency, jimin tried calling u

please answer

[1:32am] jung hoseok:

Yoongi got into some trouble, we’re @ the hospital with him rn... I’ll explain when you get here

Come as soon as you see this, ____. He needs you

You reread the messages again and again because it feels like some sort of dream, the most trouble Yoongi got into whilst you were together was when he broke the speed limit on the way back to your apartment after a long night full of suggestive comments and touches.

You’re out of the door and in your car before your brain can even process it, phone shoved into the pocket of the first jacket you came across and foot coming down hard on the gas as you pull out of the driveway and speed to the hospital, to Yoongi.

The drive to the hospital was fast, but not fast enough and the moments between and leaving the house and being on the motorway are a blur. 

Thoughts and scenarios run through your head at every red light you stop at; did someone try to break into your apartment? Did he go out for some air and get killed? You feel the tears begin to form in your eyes but you wish them away with a shake of your head, speeding down the lane as soon as the light turns amber.

“Yoongi,” is the first thing that leaves your lips when you reach the reception desk of the Hospital, voice dry and shaky as you attempt to collect your thoughts.

“Min Yoongi, my boyfriend, he-”

“Ah, yes.” the receptionist responds, eyes softening with sympathy and voice calm. She gestures to the empty section of seats behind you. “If you take a seat here, someone will take you to him as soon as they can.”

Your head tells you to argue, put up a fight and refuse to just take a seat because your boyfriend could be dead for all you know but you nod, teeth biting at your lower lip as you slump into the seat.

The awful thoughts don’t leave your head and you can’t help but think the worst as you sit and stew in the metal chair, eyes fixed on Yoongi’s sliders you’d slipped on in your haste to get to him. You don’t know how long you had zoned out for but you’re quickly brought back to reality when a hand gently touches your shoulder.

“Miss?” you meet eyes with a man dressed in scrubs, clipboard hugged against his chest.

“I’m Dr. Song. If you’re here to see Mr Min I can take you to him now, if you’d like. I have been looking after him since he arrived and he is now in a stable condition after his surgery.”

You nod, standing up and following the doctor as he walks down the corridor to the left, then the right, then the left again. You bite at your fingernails (a nervous habit that Yoongi had told you to drop months ago, it’s unhygienic he’d say) as the man finally stops walking and pushes a small blue door with the number 24 above it open, ushering you inside before telling you he’ll be back later to check over him.

Thanking him, you walk into the bright room and the sob that leaves your lips is loud enough to catch Yoongi’s attention. He turns his head in your direction, hand weakly reaching out for you and you run to him, the air in the room cold as it hits your body.

“Wha-” you can’t even begin to form words, eyes raking over him and the bruises on his face and arms that you can’t even count on both hands.

“What happened to you? Where are Hoseok and Tae... and Jimin? I cant- I don’t understand...” you’re gripping the side of his bed now, practically sobbing over him and he brings a hand up to cover your own.

He wordlessly moves his hand to push his gown aside and you see what you assume to be a stab wound of some sort, now stitched up neatly and free from any blood.

Your mouth drops, hand gripping the bed tighter as your eyes bore into his abdomen, images flying through your head of how he must’ve looked and felt. “How? Where did you go last night? What did you do?”

Yoongi takes a deep breath, wincing as reaches for the beds remote so he can use it to sit up. You step back and take a seat in the small armchair at his bedside, still biting at your nails as you wait for his answer.

“I can’t tell you here,” he sighs, staring straight ahead of him so he doesn’t have to see the upset in your eyes.

“Yoongi please!” you cry, voice echoing throughout the large room. He closes his eyes, lips pursed as he tilts his head back to rest on the puffy pillow below him.

“I’ll tell you if you promise not to freak out.”

You don’t respond, eyes wide as you wait for him to continue and Yoongi opens an eye to look over at you, reaching a hand out for you to hold which you gladly take.

“It was a gang, ____. Me and some others got into some shit a few years ago, before we’d even met, and they just so happened to be in the city last night. They wanted money that I owed them from years ago but I didn’t have it. I went to make peace but that’s clearly not the alternative they were after.”

“So they stabbed you?! Why didn’t you tell me about this Yoongi, we could’ve got the Police involved- we could’ve stopped this from happening!” You gesture towards his body, brows pulled together in a frown and bottom lip quivering as more tears threaten to spill from your eyes.

“It’s not that easy, you don’t know what they’re like. It’s not as bad as you think.”

“You could have died, Yoongi! I could have lost you! How can you say it’s not as bad as I think?!” The tears fall from your eyes as though a dam just broke and you struggle to catch your breath at the thought of him dying next time. 

Yoongi squeezes your hand tight, feeling himself well up at the sight of you so upset over him, over this. He doesn’t know what to say, can’t find the right words because he knows you’re right. He could have died, he was just lucky that they ran off before they could do more damage to him.

The two of you sit in silence for 5 minutes at the least, your hand still grasped tightly in his and the only sound being both of your breathing and the rhythmic beeping of the machine beside him.

You struggle to collect your thoughts, your boyfriend in trouble with a gang? Your innocent, funny, handsome boyfriend being stabbed by some pathetic group of boys from his past... you never could’ve pictured it happening.

“Why were the boys here with you?” you speak up, squeezing at his hand and he jumps slightly, eyes fluttering open and looking at you.

“I called them before I met the gang so they’d know where I was, they were already aware of them and what they were after so they understood. I told them to go home, they’d been here all night.”

“Ah,” you breathe. You want to be mad at him but you can’t, you don’t understand his situation but you don’t want to push it- not when he’s in such a state.

“The Police will want to talk to you, you know?” 

“I know, babe.” he forces a smile, thumb rubbing comfortably over the back of your hand. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to have to put you through this.”

You smile back, eyes softening because when Yoongi says he’s sorry, he means it. Standing up from your seat, you make sure you don’t let go of his hand whilst you lean over him to leave a soft kiss on his forehead.

“I’m just glad you’re alive, honestly. Get some sleep, you must be tired.”

Yoongi hums in agreement, eyes closing as he settles into the bed

“I love you,” you bring his hand up to your mouth and kiss his bruised knuckles, taking a deep breath in order to compose yourself before the floodgates open again. He doesn’t respond though, already snoring just as he does when he’s at home in bed with you.

You gently let go of his hand and place it beside him on the bed, walking out of the room and into the corridor. Leaning against the wall, you pull your phone out from your pocket and open up the messenger app.

[10:17am] you:

come to the hospital when you can, i need the full story 

[message sent to multiple contacts: park jiminie, jung hoseok, kim taehyung]

#not quite gang yoongi but almost #dkdslsls sorry anonnie #text #drabble game #yoongi angst #yoongi smut #yoongi fluff #yoongi scenarios #bts smut #BTS drabbles #yoongi drabble #bts angst #ley's #bts fluff #bts scenarios #min yoongi #suga #bts reactions

[qveenofthorns]

Brave, gentle, strong: there is only one (no really—I checked)

“When you’re old enough, I will make you a match with a high lord who’s worthy of you, someone brave and gentle and strong.” – Eddard Stark, Sansa III, AGOT

I’ve seen a lot of metas about textual evidence for Sandor being the BGS That Was Promised™, and I started wondering if there are any other candidates. What if we’re all so ~blinded~ by our ship that we missed something else right in front of us? I used A Search of Ice and Fire to check every single Sansa/Alayne chapter for these words (and variations of them) to see if she thinks of anyone else using all of these terms.  

Here are all of the of the uses sorted by character/chronologically (excluding the times she tells Sweetrobin that he’s brave and strong or she tells herself to be brave like Robb):

Joffrey

1. “It was a great honor to ride with the queen, and besides, Prince Joffrey might be there. Her betrothed. Just thinking it made her feel a strange fluttering inside, even though they were not to marry for years and years. Sansa did not really know Joffrey yet, but she was already in love with him. He was all she ever dreamt her prince should be, tall and handsome and strong, with hair like gold.” Sansa I, AGOT

Okay, so I think we can discount this one given the context of Ned’s “brave and gentle and strong” quote, but I really wanted to cover all the bases. It’s also a pretty superficial assessment, moulding him to fit the part in which she’s cast him based on the songs.

Barristan Selmy

1. “One knight wore an intricate suit of white enameled scales, brilliant as a field of new-fallen snow, with silver chasings and clasps that glittered in the sun. When he removed his helm, Sansa saw that he was an old man with hair as pale as his armor, yet he seemed strong and graceful for all that. From his shoulders hung the pure white cloak of the Kingsguard.” Sansa I, AGOT

This one is also an extremely obvious no, though it is still interesting. Despite being old, he seems like a knight from the songs and we see the Kingsguard cloak for the first time in a Sansa POV.  

Sandor

1. “She stepped backward and bumped into someone. Strong hands grasped her by the shoulders, and for a moment Sansa thought it was her father, but when she turned, it was the burned face of Sandor Clegane looking down at her, his mouth twisted in a terrible mockery of a smile.” Sansa I, AGOT

This is after she first sees Ser Ilyn Payne, whom she finds terrifying. Her initial response to Sandor’s touch is positive and this won’t be the last time she backs into him when she’s afraid.

2. “Sandor Clegane scooped her up around the waist and lifted her off the featherbed as she struggled feebly. Her blanket fell to the floor. Underneath she only had a thin bed gown to cover her nakedness. ‘Do as you’re bid, child,’ Clegane said. ‘Dress.’ He pushed her toward her wardrobe, almost gently.” Sansa VI, AGOT

This is the first BGS occurrence since her conversation with Ned. She’s depressed and suicidal and hasn’t bathed in who-knows-how-long after his death. Joffrey has demanded she get dressed and bathe or else “his Hound” will do it for her. She still asks that Joff leave her alone and doesn’t move, at which point he orders Sandor to get her out of bed.

3. “‘Here, girl.’ Sandor Clegane knelt before her, between her and Joffrey. With a delicacy surprising in such a big man, he dabbed at the blood welling from her broken lip.” Sansa VI, AGOT

Not only is he being gentle with her here, he also just prevented her from committing a murder/suicide.

4. “‘True knights,’ he mocked. ‘And I’m no lord, no more than I’m a knight. Do I need to beat that into you?’ Clegane reeled and almost fell. ‘Gods,’ he swore, ‘too much wine. Do you like wine, little bird? True wine? A flagon of sour red, dark as blood, all a man needs. Or a woman.’ He laughed, shook his head. ‘Drunk as a dog, damn me. You come now. Back to your cage, little bird. I’ll take you there. Keep you safe for the king.’ The Hound gave her a push, oddly gentle, and followed her down the steps. By the time they reached the bottom, he had lapsed into a brooding silence, as if he had forgotten she was there.” Sansa II, ACOK

The serpentine encounter is the perfect example of the walking, talking dichotomy that is Sandor Clegane. “Iron fingers” catch her wrist and prevent her from falling down the steps and he makes a joke about how she’s trying to kill them both (something to consider for the future, Sandor: you’re the one lurching out of hidden doorways in the middle of the night, so maybe that’s part of the problem). She says he’s hurting her but he doesn’t let go of her wrist. Then he makes some inappropriate comments about her body and asks her to sing him a song about knights and fair maidens (because he’s a closet sappy romantic like that) because she likes knights. She says she likes true knights and then we come in at the quote. So we go from scary drunk who’s holding her wrist too tight and coming on to her sexually (the only time he ever does) to immediately realizing he’s way out of line, going back to gentle touches and promises to keep her safe. He also lies to protect her from Boros Blount on the very next page. I think it’s fairly safe to say his brooding is primarily about two things: kicking himself over how he just acted, and the “keep you safe for the king” part (he knows Joff well enough to realize that the king is the biggest threat to her safety). In a Daenerys ACOK chapter, she says of Jorah, “Sometimes he thinks of me as a child he must protect, and sometimes as a woman he would like to bed….” I reread that chapter the other day and couldn’t help but think of SanSan and this scene in particular.  

5. “The Hound pulled her to her feet, not ungently.” Sansa III, ACOK

This is at the beginning of the scene where she’s beaten and stripped by Boros Blount. While he’s gentle with her in that moment and does tell Joffrey to stop later, his inaction on this occasion is the biggest regret of his life and he cries about it on his “deathbed.”

6. “A stab went through her, so sharp that Sansa sobbed and clutched at her belly. She might have fallen, but a shadow moved suddenly, and strong fingers grabbed her arm and steadied her.” Sansa IV, ACOK

Okay, so I’m kind of convinced that Sandor spends all of his free time stalking her (because he doesn’t know how to handle the fact that he has positive feelings for another human being?). He’s always lurking in shadows, only to pop out to save her from falling. How often does he hide in the shadows near her that we just never see?

7. “She made herself look at that face now, really look. It was only courteous, and a lady must never forget her courtesies. The scars were not the worst part, nor even the way his mouth twitches. It’s his eyes. She had never seen eyes so full of anger. ‘I… I should have come to you after,’ she said haltingly. ‘To thank you, for… for saving me… you were so brave.’” Sansa IV, ACOK

Ugh, I just have so many feels about this interaction. Between these two quotes, Sandor bb gets sad because she’s scared of him and “still can’t bear to look,” so he lashes out. “He is a dog, just as he says. A half-wild, mean-tempered dog that bites any hand that tries to pet him, and yet will savage any man who tries to hurt his master.” Yes, because he is an ABUSED dog and no one has every tried to pet him before so he’s getting very confused. I’m getting side-tracked by the feels so I’ll stop myself here.

8. “Of late Ser Osmund had taken Sandor Clegane’s place by Joffrey’s side, and Sansa had heard the women at the washing well saying that he was as strong as the Hound, only younger and faster. If that was so, she wondered why she had never once heard of these Kettleblacks before Ser Osmund was named to the Kingsguard.” Sansa VI, ACOK

I considered also including this under the Kettleblacks, but decided against it because she’s not the one saying they’re strong. Her attitude here feels similar to her attitude during the first unkiss mention (“these other girls/women are so silly—I have the Hound and what they have is inferior”).

9. “He yanked her closer, and for a moment she thought he meant to kiss her. He was too strong to fight. She closed her eyes, wanting it to be over, but nothing happened.” Sansa VII, ACOK

This one typically gets left out because it doesn’t exactly portray him in a positive light, but I’m trying to include everything, good and bad. I have some thoughts on this re: the unkiss, but this isn’t the place for that. Short version: it would have been very easy for GRRM to write something like “she wished he wouldn’t,” but instead he wrote “wanting it to be over.” I’m not saying she wanted him to kiss her in that moment, but she didn’t not want him to kiss her either (or it could be a “just get it over with” scenario).

Tyrion

1. “Sansa watched him walk off, his body swaying heavily from side to side, like something from a grotesquerie. He speaks more gently than Joffrey, she thought, but the queen spoke to me gently too. He’s still a Lannister, her brother and Joff’s uncle, and no friend. Once she had loved Prince Joffrey with all her heart, and admired and trusted his mother, the queen. They had repaid that love and trust with her father’s head. Sansa would never make that mistake again.” Sansa I, ACOK

“More gently than Joffrey” is a pretty low bar. Overall, not a very glowing review of Tyrion: he’s not a monster, but he’s grotesque, can’t be trusted, and could turn into a monster later.

Osmund Kettleblack

1. “Sansa tried to run, but Cersei’s handmaiden caught her before she’d gone a yard. Ser Meryn Trant gave her a look that made her cringe, but Kettleblack touched her almost gently and said, “Do as you’re told, sweetling, it won’t be so bad. Wolves are supposed to be brave, aren’t they?” Sansa III, ASOS  

If you didn’t have déjà vu while reading this, something is wrong because this is almost EXACTLY the same as a Sandor moment included on this list. (“‘Do as you’re bid, child,’ Clegane said. ‘Dress.’ He pushed her toward her wardrobe, almost gently.”) HOWEVER, I don’t think Sandor would have been so chill in this particular situation. This is as she’s being dragged off to marry Tyrion and seeing as finding out Sansa had married Tyrion made Sandor suicidal, well, that’s a thought for another day. Between this and Sandor #8, I feel like there’s potential for a SanSan meta solely comparing Sandor and the Kettleblacks. (Someone else please write that—I’m only even doing this because I have mild writer’s block on a fic and needed a break.)

Ser Dontos

1. “‘Not far.’ Ser Dontos took her hand in his own and rubbed it gently. “Your friend is near, waiting for you.’” Sansa V, ASOS

This is while she and Dontos are escaping after Joffrey’s murder. It’s mentioned that they take the serpentine steps at one point. See Sandor #4 for another important interaction there.

Petyr Baelish

1. “He saved Alayne, his daughter, a voice within her whispered. But she was Sansa too… and sometimes it seemed to her that the Lord Protector was two people as well. He was Petyr, her protector, warm and funny and gentle… but he was also Littlefinger, the lord she’d known at King’s Landing, smiling slyly and stroking his beard as he whispered in Queen Cersei’s ear. And Littlefinger was no friend of hers. When Joff had her beaten, the Imp defended her, not Littlefinger. When the mob sought to rape her, the Hound carried her to safety, not Littlefinger. When the Lannisters we’d her to Tyrion against her will, Ser Garlan the Gallant gave her comfort, not Littlefinger. Littlefinger never lifted so much as his little finger for her.” Sansa I, AFFC

Wow, so there’s a lot to unpack here but most of it isn’t relevant to this post. However, this is one of the many times she compares Sandor favorably to other men.

2. “‘Forgive her, my lords,’ Petyr Baelish said softly. ‘She still has nightmares of that day. Small wonder if she cannot bear to speak of it.’ He came up behind her and put his hands gently on her shoulders. ‘I know how hard this is for you, Alayne, but our friends must hear the truth.’ Her throat felt so dry and tight it almost hurt to speak.” Sansa I, AFFC

I see two SanSan parallels in this brief passage. Putting his hands on her shoulders from behind reminds me of her first interaction with Sandor and her throat hasn’t been “dry and tight” since the Blackwater. All of the language in the Blackwater scene is highly sexual, but here, those are the only words that stand out and I only noticed them because they’ve been used before.

Lothor Brune

1. “Sober, he was a quiet man, but a strong one. And Petyr says he’s loyal.” Alayne II, AFFC

The only thing I’ll say about Lothor is that Sansa also compares him to Sandor/he triggers memories about Sandor (ex: the incident with Marillion where she thinks it might be the Hound saving her for a moment before she realizes that’s impossible).

Here’s a chart for the visual learners

Conclusion: Sandor is the only man worthy of Sansa, as per her father’s parameters

While, just like Sansa, “I knew the Hound would win,” I didn’t expect the results to be this conclusive. He hits all three points while no one else scores above a two. SANDOR BB IS THE ONLY ONE WHO MEETS MORE THAN ONE CRITERIA. SHE NEVER DESCRIBES ANOTHER MAN AS BRAVE. NOT ONCE. ONLY HIM. She talks about brave men in general, but he is the only specific man she ever calls brave.* And it’s not internal monologue like all of the other instances I’ve outlined—she’s saying it aloud, thanking him to his face. And it’s also worth noting that several of the occasions she describes another man as gentle or strong are callbacks to interactions with Sandor. Knowing GRRM, there’s no way that’s an accident. So SanSan is endgame or GRRM is the world’s biggest troll. Either way, my heart hurts.

*While bravery only shows up once in this analysis, Sansa does frequently describe women (herself included) as being brave and also reminds herself to be brave a lot (that whole weird thing where GRRM writes female characters like actual people instead of accessories to the men in their lives).

#the bgs that was promised™ #sansan fucking confirmed #sansan is endgame #science says so #sansa ships it #grrm ships it #sandor ships it #foreshadowing #sansan #sansa x sandor #sansa stark #sandor clegane #asoiaf #sandor x sansa #sansan meta #my very first real meta ahhh #asoiaf meta #brave gentle strong #mine #mine:meta

[afirethatneverburnstoembers]

Fawkes is dead

(@rxll-the-dxce​ / @mxd-chxmist)

      ░░░ ◦ ◦ ◦ ⽕ ! ░░░        The first sight of the uniformed police standing outside after answering the door caused her to flinch, an automated response as typically she would flee from them. But they weren’t standing aggressively nor did they show any immediate indication of wanting to enter, their hats were held to their chests. A heavy beat of her heart triggered a sharp inhale, Hotaru was adamant about not going back to prison. She was about to tell them to leave as a defensive action, but before words found their way past her lips, the officer spoke first.

          “Mrs. Catesby, yes? We have grave news concerning your husband.”

          ❝ What? What about Fawkes, is he okay?? ❞

         “Unfortunately… he was caught up in the devastation within the hospital earlier this afternoon. He did not survive.” 

     Hotaru’s stomach churned and knotted uncomfortably, her heart stopped beating as air was caught in her airway, she choked on it. The police further explained the incident; an experiment gone wrong resulted in a catastrophic explosion, one he could not escape from. 

     Later arriving at the hospital to inspect the damage for herself, it was a nightmare. She recalled the time when Fawkes mentioned blowing up the hospital and landing himself in prison, unable to save his sister. It was a repeat of history, chemistry claimed the life of another Catesby. Outside, Maebara sat completely distraught and covered in debris and dried blood, he had tried to save Fawkes, but to no avail. Hotaru ignored him. 

     She insisted on going to the lab - rather, what was still standing of it - but was denied access due to the toxic air from loose chemicals. The sounds of ambulances and helicopters filled the air as patients were transferred to another hospital, causing her hearing to fade out from reality. All she could hear now was the voice of her husband in her head, words he’d spoken not even five hours ago. 

          “Take care today, okay, Fire-chan? I’ll call once I’m on break, I’m sure I’ll catch Doc this time.. I laced my pasta with laxatives AND chilli pepper!!”

     Then, his mischievous grin was all she could see, comparable to the face of a toddler about to commit a felony and get away with it. He was supposed to call and tell her how it went, she’d been anticipating a phone call all day. Hotaru then takes out her phone, the lock screen displaying a favoured photo of Fawkes and Hanabi - a picture they took together when they “stole” her phone. 

     For a long moment, her eyes were fixated on him. His cheeky smile, the way his eyes curled with delight, the whiteness of his teeth… she unlocked her phone and her messages app was already open, displaying the conversation she had with Fawkes not even an hour ago. 

     [SMS] Bear 🐻💚: Fire-chan! Is my wallet on the kitchen table?      [SMS] Bear 🐻💚: I was gonna show Doc that photo of Hana-chan again     [SMS] Me: I was just about to message you! 🤪     [SMS] Bear 🐻💚: 😮     [SMS] Me: I found your wallet in Hanabi’s bed 🤨     [SMS] Bear 🐻💚: Oh no…      [SMS] Me: Yeah, all your money is missing 😐 I’m still looking for it 😫     [SMS] Bear 🐻💚: Nooooo 😭I’m sure it’ll turn up, don’t worry…      [SMS] Bear 🐻💚: I gotta head back in anyways, I’ll help you look for it when I get home     [SMS] Bear 🐻💚: I love you Fire-chan 🥰😘🔥     [SMS] Me: I love you too Bear!! 😘❤️

     Rereading the messages, comprehending that he was writing these not so long ago… her eyes started to sting as they welled up with tears. Hotaru was sobbing and crying before she even realised she was crying, only noticing after seeing the tears land on the screen of the phone. This can’t be happening…

          ❝ … what the hell, Fawkes…. what the hell… what the hell… ❞

#Anonymous #○ ⽕ 〉 𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚖 𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚜𝚋𝚢 ; ( v. fireworks ) #○ ⽕ 〉 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒 𝚚𝚞𝚘𝚝𝚎 ; ( answered ) #long post; #( ummmmm excuse u ) #( how could u hurt me this way )

[kpopyourcherryy]

A/n; Sorry I was slacking today, my loves, work has me busy as heck- so I hope this makes up for it~ It’s not 100% angst, but I hope you still enjoy it<3

Shownu; 

-the two of you became acquainted with one another through a mutual friend, and it didn’t take long for y’all to end up in bed together, but after the steamy night you shared he hadn’t heard from you in over a month- 

*laying in bed, half asleep only to be startled awake by his ringtone blaring in his ear*  *immediately answers*  “He- Hello? Oh y/n! Wait.. why are you crying?” 

You; *frantically crying* “I- don’t know what to do. I’m pregnant, Shownu. It’s your baby and- and..” 

“It’s- it’s mine? Are you- Are you sure?”  *goes pale and silent from shock unable to comprehend that you’re pregnant with his child*  “Are you really sure the baby’s mine, though? Are you going to keep it?” 

Changkyun; 

-after meeting you through Wonho and being interested in you for quite some time, he couldn’t believe that the two of you actually slept together after your first date; though you grew distant, and practically disappeared, he always hoped for the best for you- 

*is just relaxing with Jooheon and Wonho, when his phone goes off- his eyes widen in shock when he sees your caller id*  “Oh my gosh, guys, it’s Y/n.” 

Wonho; *gulps, already well aware of the situation after going to the doctors with you* “You should go take that.” 

*nods, answering the phone as he walks down the hall into his room*  “He-”  *before he could even finish you’d drop the bomb on him while repeatedly apologizing*  *tries his hardest to remain calm though he is panicking on the inside* “Sh, sh, it- it’s okay, stop apologizing. Just come meet me at the dorm okay?” “It’ll be better if we talk about this in person.” 

Minhyuk; 

-you were his English tutor, but after some playful behavior between the two of you, y’all shared a mesmerizing lesson together in the small office you taught him in; after that he didn’t see you anymore, he assumed you were fired or just up and left after what happened- 

*trying to study with the books and notes you left him, when his loud tacky ringtone interrupts the silence*  “Who the..”  *sees your name flicker on his phone screen and giddily answers*  “Oh my gosh, thank goodness you called- I really need some help right n...now..”  “What’s wrong, are you okay?”  *you tell him about the pregnancy through your sobs, leaving him silent*  “I-I don’t know what to say... I mean, I’ve always wanted children, but not this soon..”  “What are you- What are we going to do?” 

Hyungwon; 

-the two of you met at a fan meeting; you caught it his eye out of everyone there, so he decided to be bold as exchange kkt ids with you; little did he or you know, you both would be spending the night together, enjoys each other’s bodies- 

~2 months later~ 

*half asleep in the practice room with the others when he’d suddenly get a series of texts from you*  Y/n; Hyungwon, please call me-         It’s urgent.-        Make sure you’re alone.- 

Hyungwon; I’m sorry, I can’t right now. I’m at practice.-                     What’s wrong? Just talk to me over text for now, okay?- 

Y/n; I’m pregnant.. I went to the doctor because I missed my period last and this          month.. -        I know it’d be better to talk about this in person or over the phone, so                   please just call whenever you can, bye.-

*he reads and rereads your texts at least 50 times, before setting his phone down, spacing out* 

Kihyun; “Yah- Hyungwon, are you okay?” 

“She’s- she’s pregnant..”

Jooheon; 

-the two of you met after at some club that he couldn’t even remember the name of, though neither one of you were drunk or even drinking for that matter; you ended up on the dance floor with his hands on your hips as your body pressed against his, and before you know it you were back at your place having steamy couch (well everywhere) sex but as one night stands go, he left in the morning leaving nothing but his number- 

*as he sat there in the studio, he phone suddenly went off ruining his train of though- thinking it was one of the guys, he prepared until he saw the unfamiliar number shine on the screen*  “Hello?”

You; “Is- Is this Lee Jooheon?” *sniffles* 

“Uh yeah, who’s this?” 

Y; “It’s Y/n.. we hooked up a month or so ago.” 

“Oh yeah! Hey, how’s everything going? Why didn’t you text or something sooner?” 

*you immediately begin to cry again as you tell him everything causing him to bombarded you with questions*  “You’re- You’re pregnant? With my baby? How many weeks are you?” 

Kihyun; 

-you two only knew each other through work, you were his stylist and that was that until he made the first move; once he got you alone, the two of you practically ripped off your clothes before indulging on one another... then a week or so after, you stopped coming to work- 

*as he began gathering his stuff to catch up with the others and head home, he was shocked to see you come into the room*  “Y- Y/n... Where have you been? It’s been three months, I- I..”  *before he could finish, tears welled up in your eyes as you stared down at your stomach* 

You; “I’m three months pregnant, Ki.. It’s your baby..” *nervously chuckles* 

*he stayed completely silent as you began to cry, his lack of reaction caused your anxiety to sky-rocket* *simply nods, before heading out of the room*  “I’ll- I’ll see you later.. Come to the dorm once everyone’s asleep.”  “No one can know about this until you decide what you want to do.” 

Wonho; 

-the two of you met quite accidentally, you were just another lost tourist when you ran into him; after helping you as much as possible, he asked you come get some pizza with him.. soon, you were both back in your hotel room, making out and dry humping before ultimately fucking the life out of each other-- after he hadn’t heard from you in the following weeks, he just assumed you went back home and you were nothing but a fun little memory- 

*sitting there eating as he scrolled through his phone, he was interrupted but a call from a foreign number*  “He- Hello? Who’s this?” 

Y; “It’s um, It’s Y/n..” *sighs, sniffling after* “I wasn’t sure how to contact you, but I saw you saved your number in my phone- anyways.. I have to tell you something..” 

“Go ahead..”  *you tell him about your missed period and all the home pregnancy tests you took before seeing a doctor only to get the same answer you had received before- you were pregnant, 2 almost 3 months pregnant at that* 

“Y/n... I- I know you’re pretty far along now, and I’ve always wanted a baby..”  “But we’re too young, and we hardly know each other.. I don’t think we- you should keep it..”  *his heart breaks as he says something he never knew he’d say* “I’ll fly over there as soon as possible if you want to go through with an abortion.. I don’t want you to be alone through it because it’s my fault too.. God- I’m so sorry..”

#admin jade #monsta x #monsta x reaction #monsta x reactions #monsta x angst #monsta x shownu #monsta x kihyun #monsta x wonho #monsta x jooheon #monsta x changkyun #monsta x minhyuk #monsta x hyungwon #shownu #kihyun #wonho #jooheon #changkyun #minhyuk #hyungwon