#saoirse ronan fanfic

[anxiouswriter0]

i don't care | Laurie Laurence

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Inside one of the rooms of the march residence lay the feverish body of one of the sisters, to be specific, (y/n) March.

the girl might have contracted an illness due to the strain she had been under in recent days. for a moment, her sisters and mother were terrified that perhaps (y/n) had contracted scarlet fever, but luckily that wasn't the case. although she was taken care of by everyone, (y/n) didn't agree with being looked after. it's not that she was stubborn (or maybe she was), she just didn't want her sisters to stop attending to their activities to take care of her.

lying on the bed with both arms behind her head, resting on the pillow, and with a thick blanket covering her from the waist down.

trying to rest for the umpteenth time. but this time (y/n) managed to close her eyes completely.

but suddenly, soft knocks sounded behind the door. (y/n) reluctantly turned her head towards the door. as no one entered or even asked, she rolled her eyes, closed them again, but... the knocks sounded again.

—Jo, if it's you, don't worry, I'm fine, okay? —(y/n) spoke hoarsely.

no one responded.

—Jo? —(y/n) asked without even looking, as she didn't even have her eyes open due to the exhaustion she was feeling.

the sound of the door being opened, along with the echo of boots resonating on the wooden floorboards, filled the room. the small "creak" of the door closing gently was all that could be heard, as if the person entering the room wanted to make as little noise as possible, but the sound of their boots on the wood gave them away. (y/n), who still had her eyes closed, could hear every step, softly echoing in the room, approaching. Until at one moment, they stopped, and (y/n) felt the weight of someone sitting down beside her bed.

opening her eyes slightly and trying to visualize who it was, although at first everything seemed blurry, (y/n) gradually began to recognize the facial features of that person.

—Laurie? —she asked, astonished, as the person smiled gently.

—What are you doing here? —she asked, confused, but with a noticeable discreet smile.

—Jo told me you were in bed, so since everyone had their turn to visit you, I felt like now it was my turn to do so, —Laurie joked, eliciting a small smile from (y/n).

—But putting that aside, how are you feeling? —he asked, changing the subject.

—Do you really want to know? —(y/n) asked, as Laurie nodded in response.

—Terribly indebted to them, —(y/n) blurted out, making Laurie laugh. —You should have seen them coming in and out of the room. I couldn't sleep with the sound of their shoes echoing on the floor, the door opening and closing, and please don't make me remember the sound of their desperate voices. for a moment, I felt like I was dying, —(h/c) laughed, while feeling Laurie rub her hand over the arm that was extended behind (y/n)'s head..

—But amidst all the chaos you're telling me, I see that you're doing well, —he said, rested her hand on the other end of the bed, beside the girl's body.

—Tell my sisters, —said (y/n), placing her arm over her eyes.

at that moment, a small silence filled the room, but oddly enough, it wasn't uncomfortable as some might have expected.

however, that silence and atmosphere were interrupted when (y/n) felt fingers glide over her cheek, the thumb tracing her cheekbone delicately. this caught (y/n)'s attention, causing her to remove her arm from her eyes.

—What are you doing?— she asked

—I'm looking at you, —Laurie joked.

—How silly, —(y/n) murmured, although she regretted it a bit when she noticed Laurie's sudden serious expression, with his head pointing towards the ground. With some effort, she managed to sit up at least, placing her hand on Laurie's shoulder to get his attention. —I'm sorry, I didn't mean to...—

—Don't worry, —Laurie interrupted, —it's not that —he murmured softly at the end.

—Then what is it? —(y/n) asked, confused.

with that, Laurie let out a long sigh that (y/n) could hear. she watched as he turned his gaze towards her. suddenly, Laurie shifted on the bed and slowly extended his hands, taking (y/n)'s hands in his. this gesture made (y/n) nervous due to Laurie's sudden actions.

—(y/n)...— he began, but the realization dawned on (y/n) about what Laurie might say.

—Laurie, no... don't do it, —interrupted with a disappointed voice, pulling her hands away from his.

—What? Why? —Laurie murmured, trying to take (y/n)'s hands again, but she kept them out of his reach.

—Because I know you love Jo, —(y/n) affirmed, noticing Laurie's surprised expression. —I know, —she murmured at the end.

(y/n) turned her gaze away, avoiding Laurie's eyes, while all he did was take the girl's hand again.

—Please, (y/n), please listen —Laurie murmured as he gently caressed her hand. —You're right, I love Jo... but the love I feel for you is different, —he affirmed with determination. With his other hand, he gently held (y/n)'s chin, turning it so their gazes met.

laurie noticed how tiny tears streamed down (y/n)'s cheek. tenderly, he slid his thumb over her eyes, wiping away every trace of sadness he found.

—I mean it, —he murmured. —Why don't you believe me?—

(y/n) shook her head.

—I don't know, —she said between sobs.

—then let me show you. Let me show you that I'm serious, —he murmured, moving closer to she, their faces just inches apart.

laurie, being so close, could feel the warmth emanating from her. he could have joked that perhaps was embarrassed by the moment, but he chose to remain silent, not wanting to ruin the moment.

laurie tenderly held (y/n)'s face in his hands and began to kiss her gently. he started on her cheek, then moved up to her temple and placed another kiss, moving on to her forehead and then to the other cheek. as he did so, he noticed (y/n) starting to giggle. emboldened by the joy of the moment, laurie ventured to give her a sudden kiss on the tip of her nose, eliciting even more laughter and a warm feeling in his heart.

however, at one point, laurie stopped, fixing his gaze on a place he hadn't kissed yet.

(y/n) noticed and warned him.

—If you get sick, Laurie, I'm not going to take care of you —she said, staying just inches away from him.

laurie could only smile as he let his lips meet hers. In that moment, it didn't matter if he couldn't get up tomorrow. All that mattered to him in that moment was what they were sharing.

they both pulled away in search of air, although they kept their foreheads together. In that small space between them, the rapid beating of their hearts resonate like a shared echo of intense emotions.

—i don't care —murmured laurie.

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↳ Note: I made this little one-shot a long time ago and I never could finish it, I always had it as a draft. Also, I saw that the theme of the 'little women' had already gone out of style. So, I didn't want to upload it.now i want to cry ↳ p.s: I just noticed that this has a lot of (y/n) and a lot of Laurie. :D I'll try to improve and not to put so much (y/n).

#little women fanfiction #little women #jo march #laurie laurence x reader #laurie laurence #x reader #oneshot #one shot #fluff #fanfic #fanfiction #timothée chalamet #timothee chalamet fanfiction #saoirse ronan

[dontcryshopgirl152]

Your Husband Jo

Josephine "Jo" March x Fem!Reader

Summary: For as long as you could remember, you’d had a crush on Jo March. You and Jo are both back home for the summer after getting engaged and married, respectively, and your midnight rendezvous will end with a different kind of union. (2.9K Words)

Notes: Hello! Apologies in advance for any inaccuracies, I'm a very casual fan of Little Woman but a very serious fan of actual women.

This is my first fic, and I hope you enjoy it! This is fun writing practice for me after a long hiatus from the craft, and just a fun way to be more chill with sexuality, so please don't take it super seriously. If you did like it, let me know, I'd love to make more writing friends!

Warnings: Sex! Fingering, scissoring. Some angst (given the whole engaged/married situation, but very light and not mentioned much).

For as long as you could remember, you’d had a crush on Jo March. She was the star you perpetually orbited around, no matter how long you’d been away or how many other dazzling women you met. There was something intoxicating about the way she held a pen, a fork, hell, even a handkerchief; she was so sure of herself. She let herself be clumsy and strong and ungraceful, and she did it all with such confidence.

Over the years, the two of you had become close friends, bonding over a shared love of theatre and long walks and hating the small town you were both stuck in. Living a few doors down didn’t hurt, either; sneaking out at night was easy in the warm summer months, and you had spent many clear nights down by the creek, laying elbow to elbow watching the night sky slowly spin past above you.

She would lay her head on your stomach sometimes when her neck hurt from being bent over her desk too long, and it took everything in you to keep your breathing normal when her cheek rested on the soft, thin cotton of your nightgown. Every once in a while, she would fall asleep there, her head drifting to the side, breath blowing gently up into the curve of your breasts, and your heart would flip in your chest.

Those girlhood summers came and went, and now you found yourself home for a new kind of summer. You had met your fiance while traveling to New York for a visit to your uncle, and he was a kind and gentle man, and soft-spoken, and he adored you. But you’d scarcely gotten to know him before your family deemed it a suitable match and sent you home to prepare, brushing up on all of your wifely duties.

It was on a trip to the post office to send a letter to your betrothed that you see her again. Stepping down from a carriage, blinking into the blinding Massachusetts sun, hand shielding her eyes. The woman’s skirt catches on the step of the carriage, and she has to turn and bend down to free it, revealing a flash of bare skin. You stop in your tracks; Jo never wears stockings, no matter how much her mother harps on her to be proper. She rights herself quickly and turns towards where you stand transfixed. She gasps a little and her face breaks into a wide grin.

“Y/N!” she shouts, dropping the small bag she has been clutching and running towards you at full speed. You drop your envelopes and meet her in a crashing hug. She lifts you easily and spins you around, laughing. When she sets you down, she leans back to meet your gaze.

“It’s been so long, I didn’t expect to see you home this summer. What are you doing here?”

You were just as surprised. Last you’d heard, Jo had married some German professor after moving to the city, and that was three years ago.

“I’m to brush up on house-wife duties before I…” you trail off. You don’t want to tell her you are engaged, it feels wrong for some reason.

Her smile falters a bit. “You are engaged to be married?” You nod.

“That’s marvelous, Y/N!” she grins again, but this time a little too wide, her voice going up a bit too high. “You must let me walk with you later so you can tell me all about it!”

You nod in agreement, then see a man approaching from behind where Jo stands. Tall and lanky, he reaches her silently and simply places a hand on her shoulder.

“Oh, Y/N, my deepest apologies, this is Friedrich Bhaer, my, uh, husband.”

He lifts up a hand to remove his hat, but his gaze never leaves Jo’s shoulder. He swiftly returns his hand to his jacket pocket and looks at Jo expectantly.

“We really must be off, but may I see you later? We can go to our old spot.” Jo meets your gaze again, something wild in her eyes, and you nod.

“Of course, Jo, that sounds wonderful.”

She clasps your hand tightly with her own, and then she is gone.

…

For reasons you can’t fully explain, you find yourself sneaking out when night falls, and your feet lead you to your and Jo’s old spot. Three quarters of a mile into the forest, there is an old, hollow fallen tree that lays beside a quieter stretch of the creek. It is here that you would abscond with old rags and candle stubs as girls, creating a little house in the shelter of the old fir. You would read poems and tidy the fallen branches that fell around the base of the tree, pretending to prepare for company, cook meals, and lounge by an imaginary fire. Now, you sit inside the empty shell and sigh. It’s a clear, warm night, and everything feels hazy and stretched to infinity. You had tried to sleep earlier, but an hour, then two had passed and your eyes still did not grow tired.

You had tried to imagine what being married to your future husband would be like, but it frightened you. You were afraid of exposing yourself to him, having him make love to you. You had heard it was painful from cousins and friends, in hushed conversations overheard around clothing lines and kitchens after dark. You had kissed a boy when you were small and remember it being underwhelming. You thought back to the summers here at the tree, how Jo would gaze up at you from where she lay on your stomach, fingertips dancing over your legs, how your hands would tremble, mouth becoming dry.

You remembered the summer before she left for New York, the last night you shared here at your spot. How she bent her head to your forehead, placing a kiss there. How her hands found the hem of your skirt, gently lifting it up, exposing your legs to the late autumn air.

“I will be your husband tonight,” she had whispered, slipping two fingers into your waiting mouth. You had sucked gently, and those same fingers had guided you to gasping.

Lost in the memory, your hand wanders to your breast, squeezing gently, hoping to replicate the feeling of that night. You had tried so many times since, but couldn't make yourself gasp the way she had that night. You close your eyes and try to remember what she had smelled like, the way the ends of her hair had felt just barely touching your arms.

You jolt out of your reverie when you hear a twig snap a few feet away. You shrink back into the tree with a start, your hands flying away from yourself. Who could have seen you leave? The whole house was fast asleep when you padded out the door. And no one knows where this spot is, it’s off the path and well-hidden by branches.

Suddenly, Jo’s face appears in the opening of the tree. “I thought I might find you here!”

You gasp a little, nervously. “How did you know I would be here?”

She crawls into the tree, her knees scraping along the forest floor to fit inside. “Just a hunch.”

Her hair has fallen out of its braid and flows down her back. She wears a thin chemise and long, flowing skirt, thinning at the hem from wear and tear. You notice with a start that you can see her nipples poking up gently beneath her shirt, and swallow to see their pert attention. You had seen her like this before, but not in years. You bring your gaze back up to her face and she is gazing at you, that same wild look in her eyes as before.

“You’re engaged,” she repeats her earlier question again, softly, sadly. You just nod. “Do you love him?”

You realize you’re holding your breath and let it go shakily. Jo reaches out to grasp your arms, gently but firmly, with all the strength of her lean frame. You jolt a little under her touch, and realize that despite the warm summer evening, you’re shivering a bit.

“I…I do not know,” you concede, eyes flashing down to study the leaf strewn floor. Her grip tightens, nose flaring as she breathes in hard. You have scarcely seen her like this before, she seems nervous and on edge.

“Y/N…” she begins, biting her lip. She rocks forward a bit, seeming to become unbalanced, and you grasp her biceps to help hold her up. She sucks in a breath and you meet her gaze again.

Before you know what is happening, she is leaning in and crashing the soft pink of her mouth against your lips. You gasp a little and fall back into the wall of the tree, and she follows you, pinning you there by your elbows. It takes you a moment to process that Jo March, the woman you have been in love with since you knew what love was, is kissing you. And you are kissing her back, your body seeming to move of its own accord. She lifts her hands from your arms to your face, cradling your jaw in one hand and pulling you deeper into the kiss with the other, tangling it in the hair at the nape of your neck. Your hands fall to her waist and you feel her suck in her stomach at your touch. One of your hands sits just below the hem of her shirt, and you feel the skin of her lower back there, beneath your fingertips. It’s warm and soft and feels electric. Everywhere your skin touches hers is on fire.

She deepens the kiss, pushing her tongue into your mouth, and you grip her tighter, your other hand coming up from her skirted hip to her back, pushing her shirt up an inch higher. She sighs and eases one hand down your neck to the small of your back, and you arch into her at the sensation. She holds you fast and pivots the two of you sloppily to lay you down on the soft leaves below, notching one knee in between your legs and one to the left of your hip. You grunt as you hit the ground and she pulls her face away for a moment.

“Are you hurt?” she asks, her eyebrow knit in concern. She is breathing hard, her face flushed. You smile a bit, dazed.

“No,” you answer, ‘I’m fine.”

“Good.” she sighs. You glance down at her chest again and see her nipples, now straining a bit at the fabric. You realize you’ve bunched it in your hand behind her. You start to loosen your grip, but get a better idea and let your hands wander from her back around to her breasts under the shirt. She realizes what you’re doing and her mouth falls open a bit. She fumbles to remove her shirt but soon her torso is set free, and you watch as her breasts become exposed to the moonlight.

They look so soft, like fallen snow still untouched after drifting into smooth heaps across the fields. Her nipples are starkly darker, and look like small hardened pebbles in this light. She shivers a little at your initial touch, but seems to melt a little into your hands as you work at her breasts, rolling her nipples between your thumbs and forefingers. This elicits a small whimper from her, and you raise your eyes to meet her. She is panting a little now, her mouth still hanging open a little. You look back to her breasts and roll her nipple again with your left hand, more slowly this time. She lets out a low moan and dips her head a bit towards you, eyes closed. You remove your hand and she whimpers, only to gasp when your teeth close around the spot your fingers had occupied. You suck on her and she leans into you, chest heaving beneath your mouth.

“Y/N,” she gasps, a hand shooting up to grasp the nape of your neck and pull you closer. You lavish your tongue on her nipple and use your other hand to massage her other breast, and you can feel her shaking a bit. You pull your face away and look into her eyes again, now just a few inches from your own.

“Be my husband,” you gasp.

In answer, she starts peppering kisses down your neck, slipping the buttons of your nightgown open to reveal your own breasts, already heaving from before she had arrived. She sucks a harsh kiss into the space just below the curve of one, and you suck in a hot breath. She pulls you up to remove the nightgown from your arms and keeps kissing you, warming your skin with her mouth. Your stomach is upside down, and there is a heat in the pit of your core that you know well. You are sure there is a spot on your nightgown where your arousal is pooling beneath you.

“Jo,” you moan, winding your fingers into her hair. “Please, I am begging you.”

She stops and leans back, breasts heaving, hair wild. She reaches a hand up to your lips and you open your mouth to her fingers, two sliding in easily. You loll your tongue around them, sucking gently, and she moans again. She pulls out her fingers with a soft pop and lowers her hand to your stomach, pulling up your nightgown with the other hand to reveal your thighs and now dripping pussy. She grins wickedly.

“My, my, dear wife,” she coos. “What is this?”

You groan at the title. “Please husband,” you pant. “Please, I need you.”

She teases your folds a little. Her spit-soaked fingertips have grown cold in the air, and you shudder and gasp as they meet your hot center. She slips one finger in, then another, up to the second knuckle easily before curling them a bit inside you. You cry out and she smiles again.

“Yes, dear wife, let your husband take care of you,” she whispers huskily. She is thrusting into you now, gently but with a quick rhythm, and you can hear the wet sound of her hand going in and out. It sounds like heaven. You close your eyes and let the feeling wash over you. Jo March is making love to you. Jo March called you her wife. Jo March-

She stops for a moment and you groan in frustration, but the feeling is quickly replaced with fresh arousal as you feel her breath on your clit. She licks you a little, gently, experimentally, and the sound that comes out of you is embarrassingly needy. You slap a hand over your mouth and she looks up at you, a small smile on her face.

“My darling, do not worry,” she says, gently, licking you again. You groan once more, and she meets your gaze. “No one can hear you when you are safe in my bed, dear wife. Let yourself feel my love for you.”

She kisses your clit and begins moving her fingers within you again. You suck in air, but it is never enough, as the fire within you consumes it instantly. You find yourself arching into her touch, words leaving your mouth in an endless stream you have no awareness of as she hurries her hand inside you.

“Oh god, Jo, I love you, Jo, Jo, please, I need-”

“Call me your husband,” Jo hoarsely utters as she sucks in a breath.

“Husband, please, I am going to-oh god.”

She pulls her fingers nearly out of you and adds a third, stretching you. You whine and a sob comes out, the sensation of it overtaking you. Her hand within you is going so quickly you feel you might faint, your heart is pounding in your head. A great light explodes inside of you and you hear yourself cry out, even louder.

She never stops her motion, locking her lips around your clit and sucking while her hands work at you from the inside out. You feel yourself clenching around her and she hums contentedly, making sparks dance behind your eyes. Warmth spills out of you around her hand and you whimper, head swimming. She whispers into your clit in between licks, coaxing your cum out of you as you grasp at her hair, her shoulders, anything to keep you grounded.

As your orgasm subsides, she smiles and leans back, slowing her hand but not removing it. You take a shaky breath and open your eyes, blinking up into the starlight.

She leans up to kiss you gently and removes her hand, relishing the small whine that escapes your lips.

“Jo-” you start, then break off into a small sob. “I cannot marry that man.”

“Don’t worry, my dear wife,” she whispers, brushing the hair out of your eyes. “I will take care of everything.” She leans in and kisses your forehead, then pulls up and cradles you into her. You nestle into her chest, breathing in the scent of her skin mixed with your arousal, floating on the humid air. Your breathing slows as you listen to her heartbeat, the sound of the creek bubbling past, and the soft owl hoots in the distance. You feel safe here in her arms.

She strokes your head gently, whispering how much she has missed you in your ear, how every night she dreamed of coming back to this place and reuniting with you. You sigh contentedly and wish you could stay in this moment forever, soothed to restful sleep by the voice of your husband Jo March.

#little women #x reader #jo march x reader #jo march #little women 2019 #fanfic #saoirse ronan #amy march #beth march

[anakinskywalkerog]

talking of fan casts, i know we are supposed to be the character in MVS, but you mentioned florence pugh playing the reader, so i was wondering if there are any other actors/models/etc that you envision being the MC while writing?

i did a whole post about this months ago, closer to when i started the fic, and for whatever reason it seems like it’s just gone? i’ve searched for it but it disappeared. does anyone remember this? lolz someone asked me to cast a few different actresses of different looks/ethnicities. i remember casting Saoirse Ronan, Amandla Stenberg, Xochitl Gomez….and others but i don’t remember. i love the idea of Florence Pugh. but it’s weird because i wrote her based on myself and my own Anakin fantasy, so it’s really like asking who i would want to play me 😂

as i‘ve written, i’ve imagined the reader differently in my mind a bit…like now she doesn’t fully look like me. i have blue eyes, but in my mind the reader has brown eyes, because she’s always talking about how blue Anakin’s eyes are. and she still has dark blonde hair in my mind, and it’s very thick, but not fully curly, maybe wavy? anyway i can’t commit to an actress i don’t think because she kind of has morphed into her own thing in my imagination

that said, i really do want people to be able to imagine themselves as her, if they want, so i’ve tried not to talk about her looks much. the way i imagine her doesn’t have to be the way you imagine her.

#amandla stenberg #saoirse ronan #star wars #xochitl gomez #florence pugh #anakin skywalker #hayden christensen #anakin x reader #fanfiction #sw fanfic #sw fanfiction #star wars prequels #anakin #my very soul #reader insert #answered asks

[stranger-places]

PEGGY EVERT → Stranger Things S3

↳   “ I just wish everything could be normal. ”

#peggy evert #stranger things oc #stranger things #character poster #ocappreciation #saoirse ronan my beloved #some promotional material for my oc fanfic #tw blood

[zaenight]

ch 3 ain't your mama

Tw:Verbal abuse

age 10

At ten years old Sage Trager had learned where her so called father had been hiding out deciding to track the bastard down and demand answers.

During the years Jax had married a woman , wendy case , Wendy was a crow eater for three years before meeting Jax , they had became drinking buddies and with Gemma pushing for grandchildren , they tied the knot , however they had their ups and downs.

Opie later on tied the knot with his girl Donna , she was kind , but worried about opie most of the time , like most old ladies were.

After speaking to her mother saying she would be back , Sage Trager was on her way , Marcus Coleman was still in charming , well on the outskirts ,but the ten year old will demand the answers , and If he dare give her trrouble , She'll kick him out of this town.

.......

"OW WATCH IT ASSHOLE!" Sage said as she was rammed into by a boy , but not any asshole , Esai alvarez was litterly on top of Sage , the eleven year old was stammering as he got up , holding out a hand for her.

"Sorry angel." Esai said as he pulled her up.

"I'm no Angel , now go away and back to your daddy like a good boy." Sage said pulling herself up.

"So mean , nope just for that your stuck with me for the day." Esai said puffing out his chest.

Sage rolled her eyes and grabbed his hand,and off the ten and eleven year old went.

....

"Ok hear it is." Sage said while still holding Esai's hand , who noticied that as they got closer to the house , her grip got tighter , breath uneven , and voice wavering.

"You okay?" Esai whispered as She nodded in a daze.

Just as they were about to reach the porch , the door opened and a boy no older than two rushed out with a woman.

At first Sage thought she got the wrong house , untill Marcus Coleman walked out in all his glory.

"Daddy look!" The boy yelled pointing at her , and Marcus knew exactly who she was , the child he left when she was only five ,  all because he couldn't handle his wife and children being "different".

"Oh my are you two lost , do we need to call your parents?" The woman said grabbing her son , before taking a good look at Sage and Esai,Sage noticed the blonde was way younger than her mother , somewhere in her early twenties.

Pausing she grabbed Sage's face , and knew , she knew who she was.

"Rebecca get inside and take Enzo-" The woman Rebecca , glared at the man , before smiling at Sage.

"I've heard alot about you Sage , I'm rebecca , and this is Enzo , Your baby brother." She said as Sage let the first thing come out of her mouth.

"Was he drunk?" Sage asked , Meanwhile Esai was glaring at Marcus , who glared right back.

"Yeah and between you and me , I've handed him the divororce papers so many times ,  but he has threatened to take Enzo away from me , stupid right , so I had to stay." Rebecca said.

"Not stupid , your a mother protecting your child , willing to ruin your own happieness to protect him from a pathetic man." Sage said.

Marcus walked Forward Grabbing her by her Backpack , Esai yelling at him to let her go , as Sage lashed around until her feet hit the ground.

"Go away back to your mother kid , Your not wanted here." He said.

"No Im not wanted by you , why your couldn't handle a deaf wife and two kids who weren't "Normal" , Is that it ,." Sage stated as Esai got infront of her protectivly as Marcus stepped towards her.

"Marcus that's enough!" Rebecca yelled as Enzo cried.

"Shut it you bitch!" He exclaimed.

"Stop it your scaring him!" Sage

exclaimed , eyes watering as Enzo cried .

"SHUT IT YOU MISTAKE!" Marcus yelled , as Sage's tears flowed down her cheeks , Esai let out a yell kicking the man in the dick grabbing Sage , as Marcus got up , Rebecca yelled for the kids to get into the car , as they ran .

In the car , Sage had buckled Enzo into the car seat , the childs cries were drowning out her own , as the car started , Marcus hed slammed on the windows making Sage flinch and grabb her ears as he demanded for the doors to be opened , as the car pulled out of the drive way Esai realized his dad was gonna have a field day about this and where he was going.

"The teller-morrow garage please." Esai whispered as the cries finally stopped.

........

Maeve rushed out of the bar as she saw the state her daughter was in , she saw a woman in her twenties holding a child , but what caught her eye was the mayan child who's father had rushed out after the mc had came by demanding to know if he was there , The two had explained everything.

Maeve was shocked to know that the woman with the child was the wife of her ex , along with the half-sibling of her children.

So she took them into her home ,believe it or not , it wasn't as akward as one might make it out to believe, Rebecca was eager to learn sign language and happy to finally have friends , Marcus had kept her sheltered and away from her family , Enzo infact was picking sign quick , he quite enjoyed the company of his two new sister's doting on him.

The club , Alvarez , and Happy payed Marcus a visit , that ended with him in the hospital.

Esai and Sage would sneak out to meat eachother , Well Maeve knew , but she wouldn't tell , as long as her child was safe and happy.

Rebecca and gemma hit it off , she was twenty three , same age as Jax , which gemma brought up that if she had waited , maybe Rebecca wouldv'e been a good match instead of wendy , however Rebecca stated that Jax was not her type .

All in all this was a tale that could be written in stone , or maybe even a book perhaps?

The end for now , yet this is only the begining of this tragic tale.

.......

Jennifer morrison

as

Rebecca Brennan *Coleman*

&

walker Scobell

as

Enzo Kylian Coleman

age 8 pre s1 / age 9-14 (s1-7)

#sons of anarchy fanfiction #wattpad #fanfic #original character #temperance brennan #zooey deschanel #saoirse ronan #malina weissman #jennifer morrison #tig trager #kevin alejandro

[empress-of-snark]

Tag nine people you want to know better! Thanks @virevoltantes for the tag!

Tagging (only seven cause I couldn’t think of two more): @televinita @simplyshelbs16xoxo @kateschechterxthorwasmyfirstotp @finnskeeper @loubuttons @muffin-n-waffle @nicky-olives

Favorite color: dusky rose pink

Currently reading: The Death of Jane Lawrence by Caitlin Starling and Death Comes to Pemberley by P. D. James (listen, it’s spooky season so all the books I read for the next month must have ��death’ in the title)

Last song: Genghis Khan by Miike Snow

Last series: Nailed It!

Last film: See How They Run (really fun new murder mystery starring Sam Rockwell and Saoirse Ronan)

Sweet/Spicy or Savory: sweet, always

Currently working on: the sequel to my Stranger Things fanfic (untitled and as yet unwritten, but I’ve got most of the plot in my head) and a quilt that I’ve been procrastinating working on for the past several months lol (hopefully I’ll make some progress on that this week)

#personal

[sunshine304]

Tag 9 people you want to get to know better

I got tagged by @gingersnapwolves, thank you!

Three ships? - Currently WangXian, past big ones Sterek and Johnlock

First ever ship? - Jack/Anamaria from PotC, my first real online fandom ♥

Last song? - uhh whatever was on the playlist when I came home, I think it was the end credits song from Word of Honor, sung by Zhang Zhehan and Gong Jun

Last movie? - See How They Run, an old-school murder mystery with Sam Rockwell and Saoirse Ronan

Currently reading? - No books as I collect books but seem to not get around to reading them. XD I'm reading fanfic and currently, it's "Judge softly" by chrononautical.

Currently watching? - right now: the news! XD Generally speaking, still going through Legend of Fei because I'm super slow. T_T

Currently consuming? - Nothing anymore besides water. It's 10pm here. XD

Currently craving? - Sleeeeeeep T_T

If you want to do it, I'm tagging @spookykingdomstarlight, @slothwithwifi, @schnaf, @cendiar, @kira-under-pressure, @selenay936, @layzeal, @vaguelyimaginary and @alightbuthappypen :D

#thank you for tagging me! #tag games #tumblr games #my posts

[youngfcs]

oi cib, salvadora dos autores de fanfic e roleplayers desse brasil, tudo bem? eu estou escrevendo uma história interativa que se passa na era vitoriana, você poderia me dar algumas sugestões de atores e atrizes que fizeram filmes/séries de época, mais ou menos da segunda metade do século 19? a fanfic se passa em 1888 especificamente, mas se tiverem qualquer material entre 1850-1900 funciona. eu já tenho alguns fcs em mente para os meus personagens, mas eu queria deixar uma listinha para leitores que estiverem sem ideias. obrigado desde já, amo seu trabalho.

Olá, anon! Não sabia que tinha tantos títulos assim SHFIAUSDHUI eu estou bem e você? Espero que tudo bem! Vou tentar <3 sou péssima em datas, mas irei tentar!!

Acredito que se procurar nesses filmes/séries que disse, ainda dá para encontrar mais atores e atrizes!!

F:

Emma Watson, Florence Pugh e Saoirse Ronan (Adoráveis Mulheres, se passa em 1868)

Elle Fanning (Mary Shelley, eu acho que se passa um pouquinho depois de 1900, mas pode ser que funcione)

Eva Green (Penny Dreadful, eu sei que se passa no século 19, mas não sei especificamente o ano)

Mia Wasikowska (Jane Eyre e Madame Bovary)

Keira Knightley (Anna Karenina)

Anya Taylor-Joy (Emma, porém se passa em 1800 e alguma coisa, mas não sei especificamente)

Rachel Hurd-Wood (Dorian Gray)

Emily Blunt (The Young Victoria)

Amanda Seyfried (Les Misérables)

Millie Bobby Brown (Enola Holmes)

Rose Williams (Sandition)

Lily Collins (Les Misérables, série)

Felicity Jones (The Aeronauts)

Lily James e Bella Heathcote (Pride and Prejudice and Zombies)

Tamara Lawrance (The Long Song)

M:

Henry Cavill (Enola Holmes)

Ben Barnes (Dorian Gray)

Douglas Booth (Mary Shelley, eu acho que se passa um pouquinho depois de 1900, mas pode ser que funcione)

Dominic West e David Oyelowo (Les Misérables, série)

Eddie Redmayne (Les Misérables e The Aeronauts)

Sam Riley (Pride and Prejudice and Zombies)

Chris Hemsworth (In the Heart of the Sea)

Daniel Radcliffe e James McAvoy (Victor Frankenstein)

Tom Hiddleston (Crimson Peak)

Chiwetel Ejiofor (12 anos de escravidão)

Jeremy Irvine (Great Expectations)

Robert Downey Jr. (Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows)

Robert Pattinson (Bel Ami)

Richard Armitage (North & South)

Jamie Dornan (Death and Nightingales)

(cib)

[bisluthq]

My take is that Jack started Reiver Pictures with Dominic because he needed someone with previous experience producing. When they decided to make The Outrun, he was still not ready to produce something without Dominic, it was Saoirse’s first time producing so they could use the help and he also happened to still be working on Kindred with Dominic. It made sense to do this with him. Cut to now, they probably decided they want it to be just the two of them. This way they can also do things when they feel like, when it’s just them at home. They can make important decisions whenever they want without the need of having a meeting with Dominic. It makes sense, it’s easier. This means they have to “break up” with Dominic, which sucks for him, and they know it. As a result, they offer to step down from the company. This way, he gets to keep a company that has produced a movie starring Saoirse Ronan. After all, it will be pretty easy for them to achieve that. Dominic doesn’t like this at all, which causes tension, but there’s nothing he can do about it. This doesn’t explain why they would add salt to the wound by announcing their departure to Variety, but I think everything else tracks.

This is now going from plausible theory into fanfic territory and, while it may sound like it, I’m not trying to make Saoirse out to be a villain because if this is what happened, I don’t think she’s in the wrong. But hear me out: Dominic always seemed closer with Jack, and they started the company together. Maybe Jack didn’t mind working with Dominic but Saoirse wanted it to be just her and Jack. This causes a falling out between them, but Dominic blames Saoirse for “stealing” Jack away from him (this is the fanfic part). It could also be that Jack wanted to leave just as much as her but Dominic blames her for it. This would explain why Arcade Pictures (which I assume is run by Dominic) still likes Jack’s posts but Saoirse and Dominic seem to be avoiding each other a bit.

I mean I hear you and that’s likely but just for shits and giggles what if Jack and Dom fucked. Now that’d be spicy and funny as shit and like legit interesting 🤯💀🤷🏻‍♀️

[nirikeehan]

Hi! From the fanfic writer asks:

🎬 If a movie or show were based on your fic, which fic would you choose and who would you fancast?

Hi!! thank you for the ask! The fic I would 100% would to see turned into a film is Through a Glass, Darkly – it's the only one with a big enough scope, I think.

Thalia is simple to fancast. I accidentally made her look rather like the actress Saoirse Ronan so that's easily done.

I don't know of a decent real world actor that looks enough like Cullen, though. But I always really liked this cosplayer (@argentcos on Twitter) for him – maybe he could get into acting?

Samson is tough. I did once see a fancast of him as Stannis Baratheon from Game of Thrones and I could see it if he colored his hair, but that actor is probably too old now? (he's 65 lmao!!) I don't know who else might fit the bill. Someone with accent work as good as Gideon Emery's who can make himself look slimy and strung out, I guess.

Absolutely Danai Gurira for Vivienne - I've loved her since she was on the Walking Dead and I think she'd do an amazing job.

I think that's all the major players who have shown up in that fic so far, so I'll stop there, hehe.

---

Question list here!

#ask meme

[capsized-heart]

Sky Castles

Pairing: Laurie x Reader, Jo x Reader

Summary: Summer has always been your favorite season in Plumfield. Perhaps it’s the lovely, sunny mornings and cool, calm nights, or perhaps it’s the fact that you and Laurie and Jo are practically inseparable in midsummer. 

Follows the summers from childhood into young adulthood, with turmoils of the heart along the way.   

Word count: 6.1k+

Warnings: fluff!!!!!!!!

A/N: hi, everyone. I hope you’re all staying safe and well! Right off the bat, I want to mention that I’ve pinned a post on both this blog and my main blog @sarapii-peachy​ about resources for the BLM movement to raise awareness and petitions you can sign to help make a difference on a smaller scale. Everything counts!

i’m back and now with a bachelor’s degree :’) class of 2020 high school and college esketit!!! we did it!!! in this historic pandemic!!! Sorry I’ve been gone for a bit, this fic has been my rocky transition/attempt out of writer’s block after my INSANE last semester of uni and with all the craziness going on in the world. I hope you can channel and take in some of this innocent happiness and childhood glee into your own lives as we navigate the shitshow that is 2020. Saoirse x Timmy x Reader here to cure me of my depression lmao

this title is also based off a chapter in the Little Women book where Laurie, Jo, and the girls go to a park and gaze at the passing clouds and talk about their futures...it’s honestly really sweet. Loosely based off of that! 

Comments and feedback would be greatly appreciated on this💛! Not that you guys don’t leave love, but this fic like I mentioned is my attempt at kicking writer’s block in the ass, please let me know how I did! :) talk to me I missed you guys :)

tags: @ravenmoore14 @monikakrasnorada @dangertoozmanykids101 @toozmanykids​ @adawn1970​ @mrchalamet-mrstyles @chavezlikesthings @loveylangdon@daygiowvibe @statisticlytimmy @ceexreverse​ @bamposworld​ @lilttletimmy​ @cindere-llaaa​

gif credit to @sheisraging​

You love New England for its rich, distinct seasons, how they each paint the countryside in eloquent sweeps of shade and hue. Snow, sun, and breathtaking landscapes of fall color that tinge the treetops throughout the year. You love Plumfield, Massachusetts more for the warmth and love the March sisters have shown you, each alike in personality, nature, to the equinoxes that have shaped your girlhood, each tender memory from your youth synonymous with Meg, Amy, Beth, and Jo. 

 Autumn. Cozy and comfortable, where motherly Meg showed you how to heat and dip caramel with the apples you’d carefully picked from the orchard for a rare treat, the kitchen swirling with the aroma of cinnamon, nutmeg, turmeric, and spices that left you feeling aglow. She’d taught you how to use an embroidery hoop, how to let dough rise, how to bake a proper pie and how to fix any clothing tear with a simple needle and thread, her compliments quick for your ever growing domestic talents. 

Winter. Like cool, ambitious Amy with her painting and taste for luxury and pleasure, how she would praise you for being the only subject suitable for her artwork. Laurie would moan and complain about sitting for hours by the fireside, begging to be excused to go play in the snow, but never you. Amy called you her muse, arranging your hair and skirts to her liking, softening your lips and cheeks with a touch of rouge. It was always such fun to make a day out of modeling for Amy’s portraits, talking and laughing as she’d set up her paints.

Spring. Sweet and angelic like little Beth, windows wide open as her piano trills would float on the warm air, curtains ruffling in the breeze. You’d sit beside her on the piano bench and turn her sheet music for her, to which Beth would give you a shy, rosy smile in thanks. She taught you how to play Chopin and Tchaikovsky, duet pieces where you’d accompany her on the keys, harmonizing with chords and your fingers flying easily together.

Summer. Your favorite season, refreshing, bright, where you and Jo would spend balmy days and long, cool evenings tucked beneath the shade of tree trunks and willows as you’d read in the sun, listen to Jo’s carefully crafted stories. Her creativity and imagination never failed to amaze you, how her writing could transport you to the farthest countries, or keep you grounded in whatever fantastical setting she’d constructed for herself. She’d often write about the two of you; two young girls, best friends who’d have all sorts of dazzling adventures exploring the corners of the world, without the taxing responsibilities of chores, or schoolwork, or the foreboding, inevitable reality that one day you will be young adults and childhood would be gone forever. You’d have picnics and excursions to the nearby fields, dozing in the sun and picking wildflowers, splashing and wading through the rivers and creeks when the heat became unbearable. Before Laurie would come and spoil your fun, of course. Then, you and Jo and Laurie would be like three rowdy boys playing in the woods, your laughter echoing off the trees and sparkling waters. 

You first meet Theodore Laurence as a young girl in the fields connecting the March’s property and your own. You live just down the road from the March sisters, your house tucked away beyond the bend and you’d make the trek across the meadow and grasses daily to visit your neighbors. Being an only child with your father off fighting for the Union, the March house was like your second home and the girls and Marmee and Hannah always made you feel like part of the family, your own loneliness long forgotten as soon as you’d step through the door and you’d be welcomed back with laughter, squeals, and embraces.

Today, you are seeking the company of your friends as usual, returning a book Jo had lended you with a basketful of scones you’d baked in repayment. A recipe you’d learned from Meg. The autumn air is surprisingly warm against your skin, indian summer, flushed and golden and dappling the plains. It makes you smile softly, your mood pleasant as you gather your skirts in time with your step, adjust your basket. 

Then, you see him. A boy making his way in the same direction, dressed smartly in a black woolen coat and matching trousers, a silk scarf tastefully tied around his throat. His curls are windswept and tousled, his gait relaxed. He feels your gaze and looks up, eyes finding yours and the corner of his mouth ticks up in a friendly smile. Warmth floods your cheeks. You quickly duck your head.

He looks to be your age, but you’ve read tales of highwaymen and bandits roaming the countryside, how they’d feign kindness, only to strike unsuspecting travelers. Perhaps it was the work of Jo’s overactive and contagious imagination playing at your nerves, but why was he heading towards the March’s? You think of little Beth, how boys and newcomers made her nervous, timid. Your resolve hardens protectively. You have to keep this stranger away from the girls. 

Your pulse hammers in your throat as you lift your head to see the boy still looking your way. He waves his hand in greeting. 

“Hello!” he cheers. 

With your eyes still locked, you pick up your pace and keep your silence. Curiously, the boy finds this amusing, laughing, making it into a game as he too begins to walk briskly towards the house, of who will reach the door first. You narrow your eyes, summoning as much hostility and wickedness to your expression, demeanor as you can muster. The two of you are running now, his grin wide and eager, your own mouth twisted with hard concentration as you race each other.

Your chest is heaving when you brace yourself against the doorframe, blocking his way with your arm, back against the wood. He’s not a second behind you and is already on the stoop when you turn to face him.

“Are you Jo’s friend?” the boy asks you with a breathless, easy smile. “You’re quite fast, even faster than her.” He adds. He’s practically bouncing on his feet, jovial and buzzing with energy. The mention of Jo’s name curbs your distrust further. Bandit may now be off the table, and the thought makes you feel a bit foolish now, but how could Jo befriend such a strange boy without you knowing? How did he already seem to know who you are? 

Up close, you notice his eyes are green and mischievous, reflecting back the shimmering plains in flecks of amber as he gazes at you, your pulse fluttering ever so slightly…

You scold yourself internally. 

Handsome or not, he was undoubtedly a boy of trouble who had somehow won over Jo’s attention. And no easy feat, might you add. Headstrong and resolute, Jo’s circle of friends was quite small outside of you and her sisters, and you liked it that way. You’d like to keep it that way as well. 

You feel a sharp, ugly pang of jealousy curl in your stomach. You stick out your lower lip in a pout, turn up your nose in a way that would certainly earn a scolding from Marmee if she were to see your impoliteness. 

“Who are you to ask?” You snap.

Your words do not take the desired effect on him. Instead of hurt, or embarrassment, the boy smirks at you, amused. He cocks his head to one side and leans back on his heels, studying you like you’d just asked him why the sky is blue. His mood is breezy, amiable. 

“I’m Laurie. Is that better?” he offers with a comical pout of his own. You wrinkle your nose. This boy was starting to irritate you more and more.

“Surname?”

“Laurence.”

“Laurie Laurence? My, how silly and dull.”

He laughs, a low and pleasant sound that threatens to melt your angry facade. He shakes his head, hands in his pockets. 

“It’s a pet name. Jo calls me Teddy, but you may call me whichever you like,” he says. Your jealousy burns brighter, flushing your skin, twisting together with a hint of desire and yearning. 

You were once Jo’s everything, her favorite companion. She made this clear with how she’d tell you plainly, how she’d spoil you with compliments and stories and affection. And now, it seemed Jo knew another, this Laurie, well enough to call him Teddy when you had no pet name of your own. She seemed to speak of you, which would explain Laurie’s cordiality, but did she tell him how you were the only one she felt comfortable enough with to critique her writing? How she would encourage your aspirations of becoming a dancer by arranging the foyer into a stage and cheering for you while sitting atop the staircase like an admirer in the box seats? How the two of you could jest and play for hours with nothing but your imagination, crying from laughter until your bellies ached?

You feel a sense of betrayal and heartache at this, an intrusion, a tirade of emotions you can’t quite explain. Did you want Jo all for yourself? Did you want to befriend Laurie as well? Did you just want to be someone’s everything again and to be doted on and loved? 

Then, Laurie’s voice tapers into a quiet hum, a touch of softness. You hear the first indication of bashfulness as he looks down at you through full, dark lashes. “I hope the three of us can be good friends. I’d like to know you as well.” He murmurs. 

You don’t know what to think of him. Your chest feels tight and your cheeks burn, from anger or passion you can’t quite tell. You’re contemplating leaving your basket on the doorstep and shoving past him to go back home when you suddenly hear a clamor of voices and the turning of the knob and then the door falls open behind you. 

Laurie catches you before you can tumble through the entryway, hands finding your waist. Jo, vibrant and chipper as ever, lights up when she sees you and her sky blue eyes shine like glass. She has her cap fitted over her wavy blonde curls, skipping into your arms and for a moment you’re sandwiched between the two of them. You flush scarlet. 

“Oh, good! You two have met. Goodbye, Marmee! I’m going out!” Jo calls into the house, her voice overlapping with her sisters’ as they all greet you in a burst of chaos. But before Jo can usher you outside, you feel your childish temper flare and you squirm out of her reach and back through the open door and into the house. You set your basket onto the table, turning to hide your face in Amy’s shoulder with a flutter of your skirts as you feel the hot sting of tears prickle your eyes. You weren’t going to let this Laurie boy see you cry upon your first encounter.

“I’m not coming.” You mumble. Amy’s hand comes to soothingly pet back your hair with a hush of surprise and you sense her look to Jo with a characteristic glare.

“Jo, what have you done?” Amy presses.

“I’ve done nothing!” Jo retorts with a huff. Then, her voice turns gentle, curious as she speaks to you. “Dear, what’s the matter?”

“She wouldn’t be on the verge of tears if you hadn’t done nothing, would she?” Amy replies. You laugh weakly, tightening your arms around her. “See?” Amy says. “You’ve broken her heart, the poor thing.” 

“Jo’s made new friends,” you sniffle, embarrassed when Laurie’s eyes meet yours. Amy’s arms around you make you feel comforted and safe, brave enough to voice your true burdens when you say, “I’ve been replaced,” and gaze back at Laurie in defiance, protest. He frowns and shifts his weight, looking genuinely sorry with a guilt that touches his eyes. Good, you think. Let him think twice before stealing away your best companion. 

At this, Jo’s expression softens with understanding and warmth as she sees you curl into Amy once more. Jo takes a step into the open doorway, leaving Laurie on the stoop.

“No one could ever replace you, dear,” she says. “I only keep Laurie around for when I’m bored and you aren’t around to play. Look at him,” she gestures in his direction. “He’s aloof and vain, he’s lazy, he doesn’t have an ounce of the imagination you do-” 

“Don’t forget arrogant.” Amy pipes up.

Jo nods, wagging a finger at her sister. “Right you are, Amy. We mustn't forget that.”

Laurie starts to puff up with a temper, his lips twisting together and you can see him struggling with whether to speak up and defend himself, or let the girls have their fun for your sake. Jo goes on, saying he was devious and too pretty for his own good, making you and Amy giggle as she rubs soothing circles into your back. It’s rather polite and charming as you watch Laurie suffer silently, biting his tongue as Jo continues to defame his character before she finally turns back to you.

“I should have introduced the two of you properly, and for that, I’m sorry,” says Jo. “You must have had quite the surprise running into him.” Laurie again glances to you with an apologetic softness, wringing his hands together. “So, what do you think, Teddy? Are we ready to start afresh?” Jo asks him, hands on her hips. 

This makes you laugh, bubbly, your mood perking up as you finally lift your head from Amy’s shoulder. Of course, Jo would be able to comprehend your grievances and somehow peg Laurie with the blame, how she knew your heart was delicate and tender and so full of devotion that you were quick to hold grudges. Your envy dissipates and you feel a bit sorry seeing Laurie now in such low spirits, his theatrical demeanor now quiet and modest. 

“If she’ll have me,” Laurie murmurs, glancing up at you with such a pureness in his glittering eyes that regret starts to settle in your stomach.

“And I’ve written more of that story you enjoyed so much,” Jo holds out a hand to you. “Won’t you come hear what happens next?” she asks. Slowly, like the pull of a magnet, you untangle yourself from Amy’s arms and cross the room to take Jo’s outstretched hand. 

“Alright.” You say at last. Jo beams and cradles your face with her other hand, swiping away your tears with her thumb. You let her baby you like she would with Beth, enjoying her touch against your cheek. 

“That’s my sweet girl.” She smiles.

You then look to a sheepish Laurie and extend a hand, filled with new courage. You tell him your name and echo back his words that you hope the three of you can indeed become good friends, that you and Jo could do well with another acquaintance. The smile Laurie gives you is genuine, sweet and gentle, the corner of his mouth turning up in crooked delight. He clasps your hand warmly.

“I would want nothing more.” Laurie laughs. 

And with that, nestled between Jo and Laurie, you step back outside into the rich and golden light of a warm autumn afternoon, curious, excited for what adventures the day will bring you. 

**

Laurie joins your duo swimmingly and the rest of the year passes in pleasant tranquility as the three of you spend nearly every waking moment by each others’ sides. All Hallow’s Eve finds you dressed in a costume of French royalty, a pompous and comical gown of ballooning fabrics, complete with a powdered wig of pins and curls. You’ve painted your face with overlined lips and the trademark mole below your eye and the March sisters double over with laughter as you enter the foyer, fluttering your paper fan with an aristocratic pout, Laurie saluting your entrance with a roar of, la plus belle fille du monde! Jo is dressed as a fearsome pirate, outfitted in boots, breeches, and a captain’s hat, the wooden sword you and Laurie helped to paint swishing through the air as she parades into the room. Laurie enters last with a bang and a flash of white powder, appearing before your eyes in true magician fashion with a top hat and cane, a false mustache pasted onto his upper lip. All six of you then march across the field to the Laurence residence, now alight with carved pumpkins and lanterns, for your All Hallow’s Eve party of sweets and games.

Christmas brings festivities, flurries, and cheer. Sledding, ice skating, days of cold and winter fun making snow angels and snowmen, decorating the March house with holly, mistletoe, culminating into a hearty turkey dinner as you sit perched next to Laurie. The candlelight is homely, the sound of laughter and clinking silverware washing over you and you catch Laurie’s eye as he lifts his fork to his mouth. The two of you grin, leaning into each other with quiet happiness, heads bowed. You and Laurie both mirror each other in being only children, meaning these times together have been filled with welcome camaraderie. Where your instances of yearning for the companionship of siblings that only those without can understand, you’ve found company in each other, never a dull moment, never lonely. 

The thaw of spring keeps you tucked away indoors with torrents of rain pelting against the roof. Jo reads to you aloud from her novel, asking for your thoughts every so often as you and Laurie lounge on the sofa. When you articulate a point of slight critique on Jo’s use of character, Laurie teasingly tugs on a lock of your hair with a smirk. 

“How perceptive.” He murmurs, grinning.

You swat his hand away, glaring at him in mock anger. 

And as the days grow warmer, so does your heart. You’ve learned to share your affection between Laurie and Jo in a way you think is equally matched and that autumn day where you’d been so sour to both of them seems like ages ago. Soon after that incident, your bravado had quickly morphed into appreciation and Jo had been eager to break the ice between you and Laurie. And like all children, your differences and jealousy had been set aside as you’d discovered he was quite fun to be around. Laurie shared Jo’s quick wit and intelligence, like an androgynous mirror, so much of yourself also reflected in both of them in time and they in you. And yet, Laurie had a certain charm about him; how he could have the two of you in stitches and still maintain the air of sophistication that was so often expected of the Laurence boy. Admittedly, you were thrilled to have them both as your best and favorite playmates. 

In turn, they had done the same, showering you with loving attention and teasing, keeping you entertained with their bickering, quarreling over how they both wanted to occupy your time with their respective ideas for sport. Fighting over you. The thought of it makes you blush furiously. Yet, you feel cared for, like the most precious thing in their lives.You’ve also selfishly enjoyed being the apple of their eye and all the privileges that has bestowed; Jo writing you into her stories, featuring you as a beautiful sugar plum fairy, and Laurie promising to write you a French ballet, to someday whisk you off to Europe to experience high art and culture. 

At last, spring turns to summer and the three of you are back to mischief and horseplay in the great outdoors. The days are lush, agreeable, bright and pleasant with flashing sunshine and lofty clouds. You’re again reminded why summer to you is synonymous with Jo as you run together through the waving fields bursting with flowers, Laurie right on your heels as he too gives chase. 

“Jo! We were only kidding about the toads!” Laurie calls out from behind you. “It’s not like I have one in my pocket this very moment who’s squirming to get free and might have bitten me earlier when I caught him by the river and-”

He gives a shout of surprise and you hear his footfalls pause in the grasses. You and Jo both turn, breathless, already laughing when you see Laurie hopping about like hot coals are burning beneath his feet.

A small pond frog wiggles out of his pocket seam with a croak and then disappears into the meadow, waddling with great speed. With out-turned pockets and wrinkled trousers, Laurie stands there with his hands on his hips, confidence and humor masking his faults as always.

“My, they grow up so fast, don’t they?” Laurie says as he looks out over the crest of the hill with a humorous glint in his eyes, like a mother watching her child leave for the vast, cruel world. You and Jo collapse into a fit of giggles, holding each other upright by the shoulders and gasping for air.

**

Eternal summer and sun, a tender paradise. And as midsummer arrives, so does the heat. It’s stifling, heavy, the kind that suffocates and forbids any excessive movement or play, when being idle is perfectly acceptable, a rarity for you three young adventurers. Today, even nature herself seems to be drowsy from the stifling weather. Sunflowers droop from the weight of honeybees as they float lazily over the fields. Birds chortle from the treetops, as if too tired to fly, their song intertwining with the rustling grasses, tousled by the rare cool breeze. The sky burns a dome of brilliant blue above you, filled with towering, cotton white cumulus clouds. You watch as they drift slowly over the horizon. Like colossal ships at sea. 

You rest your head on Laurie’s chest and he toys with your hair. Jo dozes with her arms pillowed across your stomach and the three of you are a sleepy dog-pile of limbs. The feel of Laurie’s fingers makes you relaxed, drowsy. You hear Jo then give a soft snore and you chuckle.

“What is it?” Laurie asks. You can already hear the smile in his voice, how just your laughter is enough to amuse him too. You shake your head against his chest and the movement makes you giggle again. Laurie joins you, flopping out his legs, the heat making you both delirious and loopy.

You reach up blindly and give him a firm nudge, your hand landing just under his chin.

“Stop it, you’ll wake her.” You scold him with as much seriousness as you can muster and failing miserably. 

“Ow,” Laurie groans. He grasps your wrist, moving your hand to place it against his cheek and he puckers out his lower lip. “You’ve hurt me, I’m unwell.”

“Oh...Laurie, I didn’t mean it..” you sit up and coo, caressing his skin. Laurie looks pleased, a flash of playfulness in the green of his eyes as you lean towards him. “Let me take a closer-” 

You cuff him on the ear ever so lightly, catching him by complete surprise and Jo wakes, cackling, throwing her arms around you. 

Later, the three of you gaze up at the passing clouds, a comfortable silence settling over you all as you enjoy the afternoon.

“If we could fly up into those clouds and there was a castle with anything your heart desired, what would it be?” Jo asks. “Where do you two see your lives leading you?” Her tone is pensive, romantic. You and Laurie both hum in thought. 

“You first, Laurie.” You murmur. 

Laurie turns to look back at the bright blue sky, to the billowy clouds that look like spun sugar candy. 

“I want to live abroad in Europe and be surrounded by music, my music. I want to compose, I want to be renowned for my operas.” He declares with a proud puff of his chest. Jo nods, you give his hand a reassuring squeeze.

“That sounds very much like you, Teddy,” Jo says. “A bachelor making art in Europe, how capital.”

He makes a face, then winks at you out of the corner of his eye. You stick out your tongue.

“You can do it if you stay focused,” you add. “No more billiards, for a start.” 

Laurie wrinkles his nose. “And what is it that you want, prima donna?” he asks you in challenge. 

You turn away with a roll of your eyes, gaze to the heavens. The thought comes to you easily as you listen to the birds, feel the breeze tickling your skin, drinking in the sky. 

“I want to be a ballet dancer in a prestigious company. I want to tour the world.” You say softly. Before, you would have felt embarrassment to share such an ambitious dream. But something about this moment, of being with Laurie and Jo makes you feel brave and safe enough to speak your mind, to put your words into the universe and have it come to fruition. Like a magic spell of sorts. With them here with you, you feel like any dream is possible.

Another chorus of hums and Jo looks pleased at your response. Laurie smirks up at the horizon.

“No fair if it’s likely to happen,” he laughs. “That’s cheating.”

“Oh, hush,” Jo chides with a rather hard sock to Laurie’s arm. She ignores his whines as he recoils and grumbles dramatically. “You’re well on your way, dear,” Jo tells you. “Now that you’ll be in that New York production next summer, I’m sure your opportunities will be plentiful.”

You hope she’s right. You’d secured a role as an ensemble dancer in an upcoming production of Romeo and Juliet, your most prestigious show as of yet in your young and budding career. Jo’s warm praise makes you blush like the flowers surrounding you, pink and full. Laurie’s quick eyes catch this, envious, and he changes the subject, a muscle ticking ever so slightly in his jaw. 

“And you, Jo?” He asks tightly. 

Jo exhales, crossing her arms behind her head. “Being a writer, of course. A great one. I don’t want to settle for less.” 

“Doubtful,” snides Laurie. “I don’t see it.”

You and Laurie look to each other with a quiet smile.

“No, not with all the prizes you’ve won,” you add. “Impossible.”

Jo shoots upright, too quickly for the heat. She slugs Laurie again.

“Ow...Jo, it’s too hot for your beatings,” he moans. “Don’t be a poor sport.”

She doesn’t answer him, only gives him a final push and hunkers back down onto the grass, turning her back to him with a huff.

“Why am I the only one that ever gets hit?” Laurie grumbles, opening his shirt to cool himself off and throws his forearm across his eyes for shade, frowning. You giggle, curling up beside her.

“I believe in your abilities, Jo.” You whisper to her. She takes your hand. 

It’s not long before the three of you are fast asleep in the sun. 

**

And as the seasons and summers roll on and the fruits of childhood begin to slowly ripen with the passing years, you find your companionship with Laurie and Jo changing and growing like never before. Your friendship starts to blossom into fondness, adoration. Indeed, you’ve loved them as playmates and companions since the three of you were children, but as you flourish amidst that quaint, strange, and budding pocket of time when young men and women come of age, where you and Laurie and Jo are now struck with bashfulness and an awareness of being alone with each other, your love for them arches and glows like summer sunset. 

This makes you acutely conscious of your appearance and dress, your posture, how you carry yourself, your mannerisms. How did your hair look? Did you laugh too loudly? Would Jo think your comments about her writing were too harsh? Why did you feel such warmth in your chest every time you saw her? And why were you starting to anticipate Laurie’s company? Why did you always have a sharp hope that he would come around with every visit of yours to the March residence? The constant whir of thoughts and worries was enough to make your head turn with heaviness, make you collapse from the pressures of simply existing.

“You’re acting odd,” Laurie tells you one day.

The two of you lay in a meadow with summer buzzing all around you, resting beneath the drooping leaves of a willow tree. Jo had been unable to join you as she had Beth’s lessons to teach that afternoon, much to her own disappointment and promising to make it up to you soon with an affectionate pinch to your cheek. You’d considered going home then. The last thing you wanted was to be left alone with Laurie, that familiar crush in your chest, an inkling of dread coupled with a shortness of breath, fear and excitement. You were terrified. But when he’d taken your hand and asked you so sweetly to accompany him to the meadow’s waters, how could you possibly refuse? 

But of course, Laurie was quick to notice your nerves. 

“The heat is getting to your head,” you say evenly with eyes closed, enjoying the warmth of the sun on your face. “Besides, that’s rather rude.”

You hear him move and feel his presence directly in front of you, as if leaning in.

“It is a bit hot, do you feel up for a swim?”

This makes your eyes snap open. Following Jo’s mannerisms, you give him a shove in the chest. “You’re vile,” you grin. 

To your surprise, Laurie’s teasing, playful demeanor is nowhere to be found. His gaze is instead thoughtful, holding your own like you are all he sees. Immediately, you feel your pulse kick up in the side of your throat.

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” he continues with a shake of his head. “You don’t seem like yourself. I thought a change in our routine could be refreshing.”

You give a light shrug of your shoulders. “I feel fine,” you say. 

He brushes the back of his hand against your forehead. He hums, then curls his fingers down along the planes of your face to rest on your cheek. 

“You’re flushed,” he murmurs. 

Time seems to slow. The roar of blood deafens your ears and the fragrance of the sweet waters and blooms around you is overwhelming, sunlight refracting like prismed rainbow. Laurie kisses you then, a gentle touch of his lips, tilting your chin up to meet him. A sweetheart’s kiss, one that tastes of summer secrets as you’re shaded by vines and mist. When you break apart, he keeps his hand cradled against your cheek, his thumb circling the corner of your mouth.

You don’t know what to say. You’re speechless, your chest rising and falling softly, staring back at him with wide, surprised eyes. Laurie looks reflective, emerald irises half-lidded.

“What am I to tell Jo?” you whisper to him. Heat diffuses through your body like desert wind. You feel elated, cherished, frightened, embarrassed. Guilty. Laurie’s eyes flicker once more to your lips, his dark lashes fluttering with the movement. His smile is melancholy, yet knowing.

“You love her, too.” Laurie hums. It’s a statement, a confirmation of your feelings for both of them. The fact that the boy you’ve adored for so long has uttered your very thoughts out loud should have you completely mortified, yet there’s a small sense of comfort knowing he’d understand. Laurie knows this because he himself feels the same way, knows you or Jo or himself could never bring themselves to choose.

Laurie’s smile prompts you to lace your fingers together in the grasses and you give him a light peck on the cheek. He brightens up, raking a hand through his black curls. 

“You love me.” Laurie beams.

**

When you tell Jo about the kiss, she’s dancing with you on the porch in the evening light. Inside, you can see Marmee and the girls entertaining themselves through the windows as you practice your pirouettes. Jo is dressed in her writing jacket and trousers, keeping you balanced as she plays the part of the male dancer, perfectly competent. 

“What an impish boy,” Jo says of Laurie. You laugh and the two of you continue your steps, running through the dance number in a private rehearsal. Laurie is due to rehearse with you the week before your performance and the thought itself is enough to make butterflies explode in your stomach. Jo is a strong, leading dancer, while Laurie is graceful and firm, both capable of making the palms of your hands sweat with nerves. You know in your heart if you could rehearse with them, you’d have no fear on opening night. You’d already be invincible.

“Again from the top, please, kind sir,” you curtsey to Jo. Her smile is giddy and she gives a click of her heels before returning to her starting position. 

“Of course,” she responds. Taking your hand, she guides you through the steps once more, your heart soft and temperate like the evening around you.

**

The sound of applause is warm and full, washing over you as you take your bows. You feel weightless, aglow, eyes brimming with tears. You think you see Laurie and Jo leap to their feet in the audience, but the stage lights are too bright and you cannot see clearly and you think you may faint from happiness. 

In the auditorium, you’re still in your costume of Venetian silks and flowers when you’re swept off your feet by a boisterous Laurie and he twirls you around in his arms, his riding cloak billowing out behind him. 

“There’s our Capulet! You were phenomenal!”

“I’m so proud of you, dear!” Jo practically shouts with excitement, tackling you next in a bearish hug when Laurie finally sets you down. Their praise is boundless, endless, showering you in so much adoration that your heart feels close to bursting. You gather them close, tears threatening to spill down your cheeks.

“Thank you both for everything,” you choke out, squeezing them tight.

Over Jo’s shoulder, you spot Marmee, Meg, Amy, even shy little Beth with a bouquet of flowers and then you let the tears fall when you run to them and you thank your stars for the luck and love you’ve been blessed with.  

**

Another year, another summer soon arrives. You and Jo and Laurie are back in the fields cloud-gazing, a lazy afternoon of heat and leisurely time well spent. Things feel familiar, recognizable between the three of you, yet there’s a sense of distance between now and when Jo had first asked about your castles in the sky all those summers ago. 

 Jo was now making a name for herself in the writer’s world, having won another prize in a New York newspaper. She’d been gaining the attention of devoted readers and critics alike and was now working on a proper novel, her longest project as of yet. She tells you not to worry, that she’ll be sure to feature you as a central character in the same way she’d done as a child, nostalgic tales of pirates and adventure and love.

“My sweet sugar plum fairy,” she’d gruffed, pulling you into another powerful hug.

Laurie had finished his opera, now with aspirations of pulling funds together and opening a production in Europe. He was still in the midst of planning and conversing with his grandfather about finances and departure dates, but it seemed like Laurie’s promise of spiriting you away to Europe could now become a reality. And with the possibility of your very own French stage debut! 

Thus, you three souls were being tugged into three far corners of the globe, to your respective callings. The realization scares you, to know that this may be one of the few times you have left together. But underneath it all, there was a sense of excitement to see the world and make it your own. You were satisfied, proud knowing that the three of you had come so far with your aspirations and you had no doubt you would find success in your art.

In the comfortable silence, serenaded by the hum of cicadas and birdsong, you gaze up to the clouds gliding over Plumfield, Massachusetts. You feel an aching longing for those childhood days of carefree play, the countless rose-tinted memories of Laurie and Jo by your side, yet looking up at the sky, you know these memories of summers past will always be with you. 

And there would be better and more to come. 

#timothee chalamet #timothée chamalet #little women #timothee chalamet x reader #saoirse ronan #jo march #timothee chalamet imagine #saoirse ronan imagine #theodore laurence #theodore laurie laurence #laurie #jo #imagines #laurie x reader #jo x reader #saoirse ronan x you #timothee chalamet x you #saoirse ronan fanfic #greta gerwig #saoirse ronan x reader

[et-regina]

So Ammonite is basically an (admittedly beautifully written/shot/acted/lit/scored/dressed) 1830s convalescence meet-cute AU, Anning x Murchison, slowburn and-there-was-only-one-bed fic.

#ammonite #mary anning #charlotte murchison #kate winslet #saoirse ronan #queer #film #fanfic

[pualaha]

who we write for

i will mainly write these, but of course, Elena will help! these are who we mainly write for, and we will continue to add to the list (also we both go by she/ her and identify as a woman so unless requested otherwise, these are from a woman’s pov). we probably won’t ever write smut, so please don’t ask for it.

- vinnie hacker

- outer banks: jj maybank and kiara carrera

-  hamilton: john laurens, marquis de lafayette

- riverdale: sweet pea

- twighlight: jasper hale

- criminal minds: spencer reid, derek morgan, and emily prentiss

- harry potter: draco malfoy

- timothee chalamet

- saorise ronan

- the maze runner: brenda, newt, minho, jeff

- 5 sos: luke hemmings, ashton irwin

- stranger things: billy hargrove, mike wheeler, steve harrington, lucas sinclair, max mayfield, eddie munson

- umbrella academy: diego hargreeves, allison hargreeves, ben hargreeves

-mphfpc: enoch o’connor

#jj maybank #kiara carrera #jasper hale #timothee chalamet #criminal minds #umbrella acedmy #stranger things #draco malfoy #sweet pea #5sos #maze runner #hamilton #fanfic #x reader #fanfiction #spencer reid #saoirse ronan #john laurens #lafayette #derek morgan #emily prentiss #newt #minho #brenda #jeff #luke hemmings #ashton irwin #billy hargrove #imagine #mike wheeler

[he-started-it]

Timothée Chalamet in The King

#timothee chalamet #the king #call me by your name #beautiful boy #saoirse ronan #lady bird #little woman 2019 #little women #netflix original #netflix #the french dispatch #dune #armie x timothee #timothee smut #timothee x you #timothée chalamet icons #timotheetea #timothee fanfic #timothee x reader #timothee hal chalamet #Dan and Phil #dan howell #phil lester #amazingphil #danisnotonfire #dan and phil smut #phan smut #youtuber #timothee chalamet fanfiction #armie hammer

[soliloquality]

For Now - T.C.

It’s been a few months and you guys miss each other, mostly fluff, one allusion to the deed (but not really)

word count: 1240

It’s hard sometimes, waking up in different cities, different countries, different continents.

I’m shooting in Massachusetts all through October. Fine, I’ll be in L.A. then, Eastern Romania in November, Brisbane for Christmas. 

No one ever said that love was easy, especially not with schedules and distance in the way, so it was needless to say that you were quite proud of yourself. It had been four months since you’d last seen your boyfriend and now it was just one more week until January 3rd, the day of your big reunion. It’d be all laughs and smiles, your L.A. apartment, then his parent’s house in New York. Ten days of just the two of you, no meetings, no appointments, no work. But for now, you still had six days to get through, one hundred and forty-four hours without hearing his voice in person or smelling his cologne, one hundred and forty-four hours without his touch. 

Brisbane’s your home, Christmas your favorite holiday, and yet you feel lonely because he isn’t here with you. It’s pathetic, you know that, but you can’t stop pitying youself. To be so far from the person closest to you, so excluded from his day to day life, yearning to share even the smallest parts of yours with him.

You met three years ago, introduced by Saoirse on a night out while the two were shooting Lady Bird and you were in the middle of rehearsals for Ready Player One. Just a few weeks and three dates later, you’d fallen for him, head over heels and whole-heartedly, smitten by his charm, his humor, his everything. He was your everything, but you were never in the same place for long, shooting movies all over, going on press tours, practically living on opposite sides of the world. But all of that would be temporarily forgotten in a few days, you’d be together and happy, and then it was just three more months until you finally moved to New York.

“It won’t make that much of a difference, but at least the time zones won’t be completely messed up. And we’ll be closer in distance, which is also a nice change,” Timmy had said once you announced your decision. “Exactly. And when I miss you too much I’ll just go see your parents. They’re much cooler than you anyways.” You’re not wrong about that, darling.

Lissy stepped inside the sun room, phone in hand. You perked up. “Someone called three times. Bet it’s the same someone that broke the internet last week?”

“I’d be disappointed if it wasn’t,” you laughed, taking the phone from your sister. That, the part about Timmy breaking the internet, already had your breath turning heavy. He’d posted a picture, taken the year that you had spent Christmas together at his parent’s house, your back facing the camera but head turned over your shoulder, biting down on a truffle with a mischievous glance in your eyes, Timmy on the couch behind you, holding his arms out in preparation for an embrace. Moments after, you’d dropped into his grasp, shared the treat with him, cracked a joke or two. For now, till you come home to me, that had been the caption and you had cried about it on facetime, neither joyful nor miserable, just overwhelmed with gratitude.

You spoke on the phone for a bit, talking about the Christmas celebrations and family outings. All the good food and generous gifts.

“Granny Stokes got Lissy a popcorn maker, honestly the best idea ever, but she made us watch Titanic last night, much to the dismay of my dad. Did you like the present Pauline got for you?”

“I knew you were behind that! She insisted that she came up with the idea, but you were the only one I told about that brand.”

You grinned to yourself, tracing the sequined cushion on you parent’s couch. “My bad. Judging by the amount of pictures you sent me on Instagram I thought that you couldn’t shut up about it in real life too. But it’s time for them to get recognized, their tees are the best.”

Something rustled on the line. “Are you outside?”

“No, just closing the window. It’s so cold in New York, you’d probably freeze to death,” Timmy said, his voice far from the speaker. You bit your lip. “Well, I’d have you to warm me up, wouldn’t I?”

There was more noise, then he was back on the phone. “Hey, quick question. Have you found an outfit for your mom’s theme party?”

“I could basically wear everything, but I think I’ll go for shorts and a checkered button-down. Apparently Glamping’s much more about the decoration anyways and my mom went super overboard, I’m not kidding. It’s even more serious than last year’s flamingo luau. She’s got tipis and shit.”

Timmy laughed slightly and you straightened up on the couch, delighting in the softness of him. “Can’t wait to see the pictures.”

“And what about you? Everything settled for New Year’s Eve?”

“Yeah, basically,” he said, then paused. “My mom’s making potato salad for dinner and I’m going out with Phil and the lot.”

You grimaced at his tone. He sounded less than excited, tired even. A glance at your watch and you knew it was two am in New York.

“I just really miss you, love. Wish I could spend some time with you, have you in my arms.”

“‘S not that long till the 3rd, baby.”

He whined, kind of, and even though it was endearing, you had to laugh a bit. “But I miss you too, if that helps.”

“Hmm. Makes it worse, actually.”

“Okay, one last try then,” you said quietly, murmuring almost, and hoped that Lissy was well out of earshot. “I have something just for you. It’s hidden in the back of my closet and I think it might get me in trouble. Like real trouble, if you know what I mean.”

“Babe,” he said, amused, “Did you go on another La Perla splurge?”

You frowned. “Wow, Timothée. You’re ruining all my fun.”

“Just trying to keep it all together here.”

A small smile formed on your lips, a tingle in your stomach. “What, miss me so much that we can’t even have phone sex?”

“It’s called anticipation, love. Some things are worth waiting for.”

You scoffed playfully, but your smile became wide, almost hurtful. “Well, my mom warned me. You’re way too fucking sweet.”

“Some might even say romantic.”

“Or cheesy.” Sarcasm dripped from your voice, but it was just teasing. You were always on board with romance, corny or not, and your hands were already becoming sweaty at the thought of reuniting with Tim.

“Whatever it is, I don’t remember you complaining,” he remarked, sounding half-asleep. You imagined him tucked in bed in his apartment, wearing thick pyjamas and wrapped in blanket upon blanket while you were in shorts and tank, tan lines on your torso from countless hours on the beach.

“Timmy?”

“Yeah?”

You laid on your back, closed your eyes.

“I love you.”

He paused and you listened to him breathe, yearning to be beside him, in his arms, feeling him on your skin, his breath, his warmth, his hands. Six days to go, one hundred and forty-four hours. Less than a full week and you’d finally be able to kiss him.

“I love you too.” His voice was barely above a whisper and your heart ached. “Can you stay on the phone until I fall asleep?”

It’s hard sometimes, waking up in different cities, being so far from the person you’re closest to. 

“Of course, baby.”

But some things are worth the wait.

#Timothee Chalamet #timothee chalamet fic #timothee chalamet fanfic #timothee chalamet smut #timothee x reader #timothee fluff #timothee chalamet fluff #timothee chalamet angst #timothee angst #timothee and saoirse #saoirse ronan #timothée chalamet imagine #timothee blurb #timothee chalamet blurb #timothee chamalet #timothee chalamet

[maydforcebwdu]

Look me in the eyes, tell me what you see?

Perfect paradise, tearing at the seams.

#call me by your name #timothee and saoirse #timothee wallpaper #timothée chalamet icons #timothée chalamet imagine #timothee imagine #timothee fanfic #timothee x you #oliver cmbyn #cmbyn aesthetic #cmbyn movie #elio cmbyn #little woman movie #mystery of love #sufjan stevens #soirse ronan #florence pugh #emma watson #little woman #timmy and saoirse #armie x timmy #timmy imagine #timmy chalamet #harry styles #visions of gideon #elioandoliver #elio x oliver #elio and oliver #elio elio elio #timothèe chalamet