#but the grief didn't set in on the day of. new day now and she just doesn't have the bandwidth to process his attempt at humour as such

[ilargeicontradictmiself]

I don't think we've talked enough about how iconic it was that the flash got both Wentworth and dominic to play partners, ice and fire, with wentworth the one making the plans. Like the first episode he appears in they don't even show dominic, you hear him say "yeah buddy im in" at the very end of the episode. They gave them whole ass brotherly partners they started in the flash then moved to legends and all that after the first run of prison break, like they knew the power they had at that point. Fucking iconic.

[wild-houseplant]

WIP... good lord it’s Wednesday

I don’t know how this happened. One minute I’m on Tumblr the next minute I’m posting punctually. Thank you for the tag @heniareth I have been looking for an excuse to post this snippet. Lemme tag you back, along with @rlainarin, @anna-the-great-and-terrible, and @icy-warden if I may, for I do crave your snippets (and Icy also because you were wondering what happened with Revka). Below features Rhodri making Zevran uneasy (quelle surprise) the morning after Broken Circle.

Rhodri wrung her hands. “I… wanted to check how you’re faring after yesterday.”

Zevran chuckled airily. “Ah, that was a memory, nothing more. And this time, a Grey Warden with the most marvellous set of eyes came to my rescue! It seems I have landed on my feet yet again.” He flicked his eyebrows once. “Let us hope my luck holds out, no?”

Rhodri stiffened. “You don’t think this is luck, surely.”

“Well, good luck, of course,” Zevran attempted, faltering a little when her staring wasn’t supplemented with any other response. “Excellent fortune? … Maximal serendipity?”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “My mother was kidnapped,” she said after a moment. “That was why she was missing.”

The abrupt change of topic made Zevran’s pre-prepared quip die in his throat. 

“She was taken during a morning walk in Kirkwall, I was told,” Rhodri continued, not missing a beat. “Her brother, my uncle Damion, had accrued enormous debts to shady characters and told no-one about it. They took my mother and not him because they know she married a rich Tevinter. My father paid the million-sov ransom, and then another half million when they demanded more. And when that wasn’t enough and they demanded more again, he realised he would have to take her back himself.

“He tracked her down to a small village on the Nevarran border. The cartel had emptied it and was using it as a hideout.” Rhodri’s upper lip bulged as her tongue passed over her teeth. “Would you like to hear what my father did when he found her?”

Zevran smiled thinly. “I imagine the kidnappers were struck off the Satinalia greeting card list, no?”

She gave a small, wry smile of her own, which quickly tightened into a frown. “For a start. By the end, all twenty-six of the kidnappers, thugs, what-have-you there, were turned into blood sacrifices to restore my mother’s health, and the settlement was razed to the ground.”

Rhodri lowered her head to eye-level with him, pinning him with a stare he couldn’t quite force himself to wish away. 

“I would do this much, and more, for you,” she said softly, fervently. “House Callistus fights for her people, Zev, there is no luck to it. You are one of us. Don’t cheapen my devotion to you by calling it luck.”

[mcntsee]

— ★ Her voice

↳ Summary: It’s been four years since her death and Spencer is struggling with the fact that he can’t entirely remember what her voice sounded like.

↳ Warnings: Death (oop— you are dead), grief, angst, sadness, mood swings. Not proof read. No use of “Y/n”

↳ Author’s note: This was requested by a lovely anon that is going through the same situation as Spencer. Anon, and anyone else who might need it, you are not alone. Grief is a bitch, yes, but soon enough it will get better. Don’t ever doubt asking for help.

* ੈ✩‧₊˚

Since the night they lost her, Spencer has undergone significant changes. His demeanor shifted, not entirely transforming him into a new person, but certain characteristic traits that defined Spencer had certainly faded away.

 

The confidence she had helped him build vanished entirely, leaving him a mere shadow of his former self. His hard-to-understand jokes became less frequent, and the statistical facts he used to effortlessly share with the team seemed to fade into the background. Though they knew he still possessed the knowledge, his once vibrant presence now felt subdued and distant, as if a vital part of him had been lost along with her.

 

Losing her didn't entirely change him; if anything, it returned him to the twenty-four-year-old they had once known.

 

Appearance-wise, he remained largely unchanged. Though the passage of time had left its mark with subtle signs of aging—darker bags under his eyes and a paler complexion, suggesting increased time spent indoors—his essence remained the same.

 

But if there was one thing that underwent a complete transformation for Spencer, it was his choice of accessories. While he had always worn a watch, in terms of fashion accessories, that had been the extent of it.

 

Now, however, his hands were usually adorned with rings—rings that appeared slightly too small for him. It was only when Penelope noticed the gold heart ring she had gifted her on her birthday among them that the team realized those rings had belonged to her, not Spencer.

 

That, or the dagger necklace he now always wore. While the rings constantly changed—every day a new set—the necklace remained constant. It became pretty obvious to all of them that Spencer probably never took it off, especially when the gold edges started to tarnish.

 

With the 4th year anniversary of her death quickly approaching, the team had been anticipating a change in Spencer’s mood. Typically, Spencer became grumpy and irritable as the two-week countdown to the anniversary began. However, this year, his demeanor was more than just that.

 

He was angry. He had snapped at all of them more times than they could count, often for seemingly stupid reasons. He had gotten little to no work done since last week, and most of the time, unless explicitly required, he kept his distance from them as much as possible. Usually, he could be found sitting at his desk, staring at the files in front of him while either tugging at his hair or pulling at the necklace around his neck.

 

They had all tried to talk to him, asking him multiple times what was wrong or offering help, only to be met with Spencer's yelling.

 

It wasn’t unusual for him to distance himself and become grumpier around this date, but this was different. They had never seen him this angry before.

 

So when the day arrived, Hotch called for a meeting. They waited patiently for Spencer to sit down, with JJ closing the door behind her. There was a tense silence in the room, lingering for a moment longer than they wanted, with their faces constantly shifting between each other until Rossi finally spoke, and all eyes landed on Spencer.

 

“What’s the matter, kid?”

 

Spencer, who had previously been looking down, his hands toying with the necklace around his neck, snapped his head up in Rossi’s direction, meeting his eyes with anger.

 

“Is there a case?”

“No.”

“Then, what is this?”

 

Rossi's mind raced, searching for the right words, but his mouth moved ahead, unable to keep pace. Only hesitant filler sounds escaped as his lips repeatedly opened and closed in search of words.

 

“Talk to us, Spence. What is going on?”

 

Spencer’s hand ceased its relentless movement on the jewelry. His eyes were moving around the room, scanning the faces of his team; his family as they watched him.

 

He wanted to yell at them as he had for the past two weeks, to scream and curse them for profiling him without his consent, but tears had already begun to form in his eyes before he had a chance to pick who to yell at first. Shortly after, his head fell into his palms as sobs wracked his body.

 

"Oh, my boy genius." Penelope's embrace was warm, enfolding him completely. Drawing him close until his head found solace against her chest, his arms instinctively encircling her, fingers seeking comfort in the softness of her touch as her hand gently caressed the back of his head.

 

They waited in silence, their hearts heavy as they watched his body tremble with sobs, while Penelope spoke softly, whispering words of comfort, her head resting gently on top of his.

 

After a moment, his sobs became softer, his hands coming up to wipe his face as his back stretched back up again. “I can’t—“

 

With a sigh, he cleared his throat, his eyes unable to meet his teammates’. “I’m not sure I remember her voice.” He whispered with a trembling voice, cracking once while he spoke as fresh tears formed in his eyes. “I think I remember it, but I’m not sure if my brain is just tricking me into believing that’s what she sounded like.”

 

“I don’t know what’s true and what is made up by the grief in my mind,” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. With a deep breath, he found the courage to face his friends. “Please help me.”

 

“Alright. What do you remember?”

 

With a slow nod, his eyes closed briefly, a couple of tears escaping without permission as he dove deep into his memories. “I remember her voice had a rasp,” he said, a small frown gracing his features. “I—I think.”

 

His eyes opened once more, scanning the familiar faces, searching for some sort of reassurance in their understanding gazes.

 

It was only then that the team started to realize that, much like him, they couldn’t really recall what her voice sounded like. "I don’t remember her voice being raspy," said Hotch, breaking the silence that had fallen upon them.

 

“No, Spence is right. It was there, not overpowering, but distinct enough to hear.”

 

The comment was only followed by Morgan shaking his head in disagreement, causing doubt and fear to consume Spencer once again. Hearing them talk about something he was sure about only furthered his growing doubt. "I, uh—her tone was soft and patient," he interjected, hoping to quell the uncertainty gnawing at him.

 

At that, Emily perked up, her head nodding rapidly. “Yeah! It sounded like someone explaining something to a child without using an exaggerated baby voice.”

 

It seems like the discussion had been prolonged, spanning over an hour, yet instead of alleviating his worry, it exacerbated it. Rather than providing reassurance, it seemed to have fueled his uncertainty, amplifying his doubts about his own memory.

 

As his frustration mounted, any traces of tears dried up, leaving behind a lingering desire to lash out at his friends for exacerbating the situation. And perhaps he would have succumbed to that impulse, if not for the fact that when he looked at them again, he could see the pain etched in their faces as they struggled to recall.

 

In all the years since her death, he has not once stopped to think about how it would have affected the rest of them too. He had been too consumed by his grief to realize that he hadn't been the only one to lose someone.

 

Emily had lost her best friend, the one steadfast presence throughout her entire career at the BAU. She was the only person among them who had opened her arms and accepted Emily into the team as soon as she stepped foot into the office.

 

Hotch had lost the godmother of his son, the one person who was always there to lend a helping hand, keeping Jack safe and cared for. She had been the first to hug and congratulate him when he announced they were expecting, and she was the one who would always listen and reassure him when he doubted his abilities as a husband and parent.

 

Penelope's sweet tooth flourished with each treat the girl brought for the tech analyst. With endless creativity in her choices, there was never a dull moment when they gathered in Penelope's office, engaging in lively conversations about anything and everything under the sun.

 

Rossi had essentially lost a child. She was the only person he willingly allowed into his kitchen, the sole recipient of his culinary wisdom without the need for her to beg for it like the rest of the team. Rossi was the one she would turn to whenever she and Spencer had a fight, and he was the one she would seek solace in when pained about one of his ex-wives.

 

JJ and Morgan had always been closer to him than her, but they had loved her nonetheless, just as she had loved them. They would often act like siblings, going out clubbing together or bickering about any trivial thing they disagreed on.

 

Looking at his friends' faces now, he realized that, although this whole ordeal might not have helped him at all, they were all trying their hardest to remember her voice. And maybe he shouldn't have told them because, only now that he took in the pain in their faces did he realize that they probably remembered even less than he did with his eidetic memory.

 

The meeting was dismissed shortly after his realization. Now, they were all back in their respective spots, unable to focus on work as they were lost in thought, much like he had been for the past two weeks.

 

His phone vibrated on his desk. With a quick glance at the screen, he saw a text from Penelope. His hand swiftly moved from the necklace to the phone, quickly reading the message that urged him to go to her office before standing up and making his way over there.

 

Once there, he saw Penelope browsing through her personal laptop, sniffing as her hand came up to wipe her cheeks. Slowly, he made his way over to the chair she had dragged in for him to sit on. "Penelope?" he called softly, concern evident in his voice.

 

"I have something that might help you," she said, not meeting his eyes as she clicked on an audio file. With a nod of his head, he encouraged her to continue. "Before she died," fresh tears gathered in both of their eyes, Spencer being the only one successful at holding them back. "She asked me to record a message for you."

 

Spencer felt a surge of anger at Penelope’s admission. "Garcia, after four years, you're only telling me now?" His voice grew louder with each word, and his fists clenched tightly as he struggled to contain his frustration.

 

“I know. I know, but she asked me to only play it for you when the moment was right.”

 

“Then do it.”

 

Penelope gave a slow nod, her index finger gliding across the mouse pad, tapping her finger once when the mouse cursor reached the play button.

 

The computer's speakers filled the room with the sound of shaky breaths amidst static, the interference momentarily intensifying before fading away completely. “Are you—is it... God…”

 

The sound of her voice filled his ears once again after so many years, the tears in his eyes now freely flowing as his heart swelled with warmth at the familiar sound he had desperately yearned for so long to hear again. “Are you recording?”

 

"Yes, but, please, just save your breath. They are on their way there.”

 

“No, I—“ more labored breaths followed as she once again cut herself off. “Spence, I am so, so sorry, love,” she choked out, her voice trembling with emotion.

 

The once-warm feeling in his heart was quickly replaced by a sinking sensation in his stomach. As he listened to the pain in her voice, he understood why Penelope had been hesitant to show him this.

 

“I love you, Spencer. So, so much.” By now, he knew she was crying, her words mingling with the soft sobs and sniffles that escaped her.

 

“I’m offended. You only love Spencer?”

 

Before he could get angry at Penelope for teasing her while she was dying, her soft laugh—something he thought he would never hear again—reached his ears, restoring warmth to his pained heart. “I love you too, Pen.”

 

He had been looking down, but when those words were uttered, he looked up to find Penelope’s face. A soft, trembling smile graced her lips, her tear-stained cheeks adding a poignant depth to her expression as she kept her focus on the computer before them.

 

"I love all of you," she coughed, wincing in pain as she took another shaky breath. "A lot. I love you guys so much."

 

“They are almost there. Hold on, please.”

 

With a sigh, she said, “I’m sorry I broke my promise, Spence. I know I said I would never leave you, but I—” there was a puse as she coughed, “I’m proud of you.”

 

His hand, which had unintentionally been spinning the ring around his finger, was quickly engulfed in warmth. As he shut his eyes, he quickly gave Penelope’s hand a squeeze that was returned.

 

“I love you, baby. Always have, always will.”

 

There was silence after that; the air of that night was the only sound coming from her side as Penelope desperately called out her name, begging her for a response before the sound of his own voice yelling her name reached his ears. The recording ended shortly after the sound of someone’s knees hitting the ground beside her played.

 

There was a moment of silence as the two sat there, hands still in each other's as they stared at the screen. As Penelope turned to look at him, she was taken aback by the soft smile on his lips. “I knew her voice was raspy.”

 

 * ੈ✩‧₊˚

 

As the 7th anniversary of her death quickly approached, Spencer had undergone significant changes since the day they talked about her. His demeanor shifted, not entirely transforming him into a new person, but certain characteristic traits that had been missing from Spencer had returned.

 

The confidence that had once disappeared was slowly starting to return, and the team found themselves once again struggling to keep up with his jokes and to grasp all the new statistical facts he effortlessly shared with them.

 

He didn't completely revert back to the genius they had grown accustomed to, but he was no longer the twenty-four-year-old version of himself either.

 

Appearance-wise, he hadn't changed much. While he had continued to age, the dark bags under his eyes had become fainter, and a light tan had returned to his complexion.

 

His hands were still usually adorned with rings—rings that seemed too small for him. And the dagger necklace still hung from his neck; its original gold color has now faded to almost silver from daily wear.

 

The only new change the team had noticed since that night was the little iPod and earphones that he now carried everywhere he went. He always kept them close, often putting the earphones in while working on files or during flights.

 

When they had asked what he was constantly listening to, he had responded with his characteristic tight-lipped Spencer smile and said, "Her voice."

[heartmii]

TOA 00

✮⋆˙apollo x male!reader

!warnings!: male reader but can be seen as gn, angst, mentions of blood.

✮⋆˙ this was honestly a fic idea i had for a while but since toa isn't really that popular, i figured it wouldn't do too well so instead here's a one-shot! Has been continued !

✮⋆˙ next

✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙

"nonono.. beloved..." the god whispered as he dropped onto his knees beside your bloodied body. his hands trembling when he reached out to touch you.

your eyes were shut when he arrived at your spot. an opening deep in the forest behind his temple. after he'd set the sun and, his sister took her shift, he would then meet you here. here, where he learned of your body, and you learned his. here, where the whispers of intimacy stayed between two souls. here, where, apollo, the all-powerful god, submitted to a mortal and allowed his body to be used for love.

now, in the shadow of his love, was only grief. for as long as you love, grief will one day be in its place. a game of chance. it is said love is a fool's emotion as only a fool would jump into a game knowing the outcome would be a loss.

and perhaps, the god was the biggest fool of them all. loving a mortal promised nothing but loss, yet, when your eyes flickered open and connected with his, a fool was what he became once again.

his heart thumped against his chest. grief soon turned into hope. although your eyes were weak, and your skin was paling. you were alive. breathing. death had not claimed you, there was a chance you could live — a chance he could save you.

"apollo." even on your deathbed, his name would roll off your tongue like honey. he was worshipped, and his name was said many times a day by mortals wishing for his blessings or his wisdom.

but, your call for him was different. when you called for him it wasn't for him as a god, there was no expectation behind your words, no secret goal. if you did expect anything, if there was a goal, it was nothing more than simply just the presence of apollo. you would say his name gently as if you didn't want to scare him off, a reminder he could let his guard down around you.

there's a difference in being valued for what you could give versus being valued for who you were. something apollo could not comprehend until he met you. "what is it, beloved?" he murmured, his attempt to be gentle with you in your fragile state as his cheek leaned into the hand you had outstretched towards him.

your thumb rubbed circles against his skin. "I've been waiting for you." apollo swallowed down a sob. he could hear it in your voice, how hard it was for you to speak full sentences. broken breaths in between each of your words.

quickly, he answered before you could speak again. "i know, love, i know. it was my father's doing. he dispatched hermes to distract me... he knew i was coming to see you..." he let out a shaky breath, "my father punished you to punish me."

zeus's cruelty was nothing new to apollo. his father had been cruel to him his whole life. it was the whole reason he began the revolt against him alongside hera and poseidon in the first place. to be liberated from his father's tyranny.

they'd been found out, of course. hera had already received her punishment. she was to be suspended into the sky wrapped in chains. all of olympus winced as she cried through the night but no one dared to help her out of fear of their "mighty" king.

he wasn't supposed to hurt you. never in a thousand years would apollo have done any of this with the knowledge that you could be caught in the crossfire between him and his father. this wasn't how their game went. zeus had never gone after his lovers before. but dammit, he should've known better. he should've known his father would make sure to break him down. come for his every weakness. now, because of his carelessness, you are a pinch close to death. practically drowning in your own blood and only being able to use the tree stump behind you for support to stay upright.

the longer apollo's eyes stayed on your struggling figure, the foggier they became. "oh, im so, so, sorry." he choked out, the sob he swallowed down earlier forcing its way back up his throat. "this is all my fault."

he felt your thumb swipe at tears he wasn't aware he'd been shedding. how could you still be so gentle with him after he had put you in this situation? so attentive even though you were the one who needed the most attention?

And your eyes, they bore into his with the same amount of warmth as always. "hey.. its okay...we'll be okay." you mustered up a smile and, for a second, apollo believed your words, that everything would be okay. because your superpower was making him - everyone - feel like everything would be okay.

reality hit him with a strangled cough coming from you. he jumped, immediately, blinking away the rest of his tears as his hands helped to support you, your blood coating him. his breath quickened. every second you were falling further into the embrace of death. he was wasting time moping instead of helping.

apollo trembled as he went to press a hand over your wound. "let me heal you."

"no," you denied. it was all you could say with the little bit of strength you had left.

a helpless cry left apollo's lips, his tears flowing once again. your answer did not surprise him. in fact, he expected it. in all of your meetings with apollo, you never failed to mention that you cherished the value of a mortal life. to value which is rare, and what is more rare than a mortal life with the only promise that it would one day end.

apollo was a god. he was never born to die but born to continue living and changing as time allowed. life meant little to him, he'd taken many lives without much thought just as much as he created lives.

that was normal in the life of a god but, you were not a god. only a man. a fact that was being painfully made apparent more so now than ever.

power coursed through apollo's body and, yet, he could not get himself to use it. you were just a man. a man who got a god to submit to your will. you taught him the value in life, the value in you. in turn, he could not disregard your wishes as he could anyone else. he hated it. apollo hated how he loved you so much, he couldn't be selfish. how even when you were slipping through his fingers, he stopped himself from healing you because he knew you would be unhappy if he did, and he would be dammed if he was the reason for your unhappiness.

it was childish to believe that at the doors of death would you change your mind, abandon your humanity, and beg him to save you. "is this really what you want..." he asked. a plead, his last attempt to bargain with you.

you didn't answer his question. he preferred that. it left room to wonder, pretend there was a chance at something else. instead, you reached behind his head, pushing it forward until it gently bumped against your own. you didn't speak at first, opting to admire the face of your lover one last time.

“you're so beautiful..." you breathed out through your staggered breath.

apollo scowled at your words. Not finding the humor in your inappropriate timing for a compliment. “really? that's what you have to say right now." he frowned, his lips jutting into a familiar pout.

“it's true," you hummed, bumping noses with him.

he allowed you to indulge in your affections, scrunching his nose in response. a pointless attempt at gaining some type of normalcy within the situation. yet, the reality loomed over him. he could not shake it off as easily as you. “you’re dying and your last words to me are going to be something I hear from everyone.”

your laugh was music to his ears. soft, like your voice, but full of joy. the type of laugh that could light up a room and have even the gloomiest laugh along with you. he needed to savor it. to imprint the sound in his mind for the days he needs the encouragement to keep going. you found laughter even in a moment like this.

"it's only a matter of truth," you said, eyes flickering to his lips followed by a tilt of your head. when your lips brush, you murmur against his lips. "besides, wouldn't you miss hearing it from me the most?"

his stomach flutters at your words. of course he'd miss hearing your praise. not just for his beauty, but for anything. he held you in the highest regard, like you were a god yourself. but, it was easier to pretend he didn't care, and instead leave those words unspoken.

he settled for angling his lips to meet yours and disregarding your previous question. "you're being ridiculous." apollo mumbles, ignoring his aching heart.

then there is only silence as the two of you lean in to close the gap between you. like a magnet pulling you forward. when your lips touch, there's an immediate desire. your teeth smacking against each other, your hand pulling apollo's head in closer, deepening the heated kiss as much as you could. he didn't expect to feel droplets on his cheeks. you had cried. the realization made him want to weep.

you had nothing to lose, so you gave it your all. one last time.

the pull away was hesitant, and even then, your lips still ghosted one another's. forehead's touching, your eyes met. "i love you," you declared as if it was the first time you had confessed.

"i love you too." a silent goodbye hidden behind the desperation of his words.

you sighed contently as your expression softened and your eyes shut with a smile. apollo wanted to speak, to yell at you to keep your eyes open. keeping them on him until you couldnt anymore instead, he chose not to speak. the look on your face didn't let him.

you were happy. happy to accept your fate. you showed no signs of regret, no anger, no guilt, nothing that would keep you on this earth any moment longer. dying happily. who was apollo to take that from you?

his cries and begs would only put stress on you. you didn't deserve that. your death had to be just as beautiful as your birth.

so, apollo continued to sit there, watching your breath. how after a few seconds, it would begin to slow down, and the little tufts of warm air he felt against his cheek gently came to a stop. the cool air of nature taking its place.

your body was heavy against his. cold too. he didn't care, he would hold you until you were warm again. soon, as the hours went by, he would have to bring upon another day. a day that you would not get to be apart of.

until then, he would hold you under the moonlight one last time

they were caught. after making it onto the ship and successfully snagging caligua’s stupid sandals, they were taken by surprise by a horse. It was ridiculous. as piper laid out cold on the steed’s back, apollo made conversation about his demise. It was a nerve racking walk to the emperor’s throne room. caligua wasn’t merciful and apollo wasn’t sure of the whereabouts of meg and jason.

as a god, he thought he saw everything. but as lester, the surprises were never ending.

they made it to caligua’s throne, apollo’s eyes immediately scanning how many enemies were in the room. he wasn’t shocked to see the loyal attendants of caligua, nor was he shocked to see meg and jason trapped beside him.

but when his eyes settled onto the person beside caligua’s throne, apollo wanted to throw up. his heart thumping against his chest making him lose his breath. It was you. how was this possible? you died in his arms. In Ancient Greece.

reading the shock on his face, you dared to give him the smile he loved most as you stood behind the enemy. with a tilt of your head and a wave, you greeted him, “hello apollo, long time no see.”

[cleolinda]

The Scariest Movie I Ever Saw in a Theater: The Ring

I'll tell you up front that the story I'm going to tell you is about "The Ring (2002)," in the sense that it is about The Ring in the year 2002.

See, I don't know what The Scariest Movie Ever is. A quick google says that the consensus is The Exorcist (I haven't seen it, because I never felt like scheduling a day to freak myself the entire fuck out). But horror is specific, and not just to a person, but to a time and place, even. When I saw The Shining as a teenager in a well-lit living room with other people, I didn't even really flinch, but I bet it would play very differently to me now. I don’t think The Ring is at the top of anyone’s list, but twenty years ago, I had a personal interest in it—at the time, I was running a dinky little Geocities site devoted to movie news. Links curated and compiled from all the other, bigger sites I followed—basically, it was the linkspam format I have used on multiple platforms, including here on Sundays. And so, as someone who followed theatrical releases pretty closely for two or three years, I saw the trailer for The Ring, and I immediately knew it was going to be huge.

To locate you in time, this was just after three self-satirizing Scream movies and the Overcomplicated Serial Killer films of the '90s. The Ring was something completely different: chill aqua-blue color grading a good 5-6 years before Twilight; a mournful Hans Zimmer score; no jokes, no quips; and a slow, inexorable sense of doom. Grief, even, given that the movie begins with the death of the main character's niece. What immediately struck me about the first trailer was 1) the melancholy of it, and 2) how much it doesn't explain. Onscreen, you get the title cards,

THERE IS A VIDEOTAPE IF YOU WATCH IT SEVEN DAYS LATER YOU DIE

Concise! Understandable! A woman (Naomi Watts) is freaking out upon discovering that her young son has just watched it! Admirable job setting up the premise and the stakes of this entire movie in thirty seconds flat, without even any dialogue. That's all you need to know, and thus, the remaining minute of the trailer can do whatever it wants, and what it wants to do is be fucking weird. Echoing voices, TV static, a closeup of a horse's eye, ladders, a girl with dark hair, people reacting to things we don't see, drippy doorknobs, rain. Characters don't give us the whole plot in convenient soundbites of dialogue (like they do in a later trailer); we just hear lines, overlapping, murmured out of context—

did you see it in your head? she talks to you... leading you somewhere... showing you the horses... you saw it. did you see it in your head? she shows me things. Everyone suffers.

That you saw it has lived in my head ever since, and not once have I charged it rent. But the "best" part is Naomi Watts screaming at the end, because you don't hear her voice; you only hear this heartless telephonic beeeeeeep. It's 2002 and I'm watching this trailer, thinking, I have no idea what the fuck I just saw. This is going to be huge.

And it was, to the tune of $249 million on a $48M budget.

At risk of recapping what you might already know, Ringu, aka Ring, is a media franchise that spiraled out from a trio of Koji Suzuki novels into Hideo Nakata's film Ringu (1998), a landmark of Japanese horror, plus several other movies, some TV series, many comics, and even a couple of video games. The overarching story is about a murdered girl/vengeful ghost named Sadako Yamamura whose rage and pain have created a cursed video tape, you watch it and you die unless you pass the tape around like a virus, seven daaaaays, etc.

The "ring" in question is the rim of a well. Keep that well in mind.

The movie I saw is the U.S. remake, which itself had two sequels. (The iconic Sadako is now named Samara Morgan. Keep her in mind, too.) Director Gore Verbinski moved from The Ring to Pirates of the the Caribbean (!), and so Hideo Nakata himself would direct The Ring Two. I... honestly have only seen the first one. And I was right, it was huge, and it kicked off the American J-Horror Remake genre, for better or worse. But what gets forgotten about The Ring is its marketing campaign, which I followed pretty closely for my doofy little news site.

It was inspired.

The story of The Ring is partly the story of the sea change in the media landscape—how we watch movies. And the story of its marketing is a picture of the very last years before social media changed the wilderness of the internet into something that feels so big, like a billion people could see anything we say, and yet so small—only a tame handful of places to say it, owned by three or four companies, and corraled by algorithms.

Back around 1997-1998 or so, I worked at a video store (Movie Gallery, where the hits were there then, guaranteed) for about a year and a half. By the time I left, we had started adding DVDs to the VHS tapes on the shelves, but we hadn't replaced the entire stock. Video stores might have transitioned fully to DVD by 2002, I'm not sure, but people still commonly had both VCRs and DVD players in their homes. And I remember that The Ring was sold in both formats when it eventually hit home video. Which is to say—you know the analog horror genre today? Marble Hornets, Local 58, The Mandela Catalogue?

Analog horror is commonly characterized by low-fidelity graphics, cryptic messages, and visual styles reminiscent of late 20th-century television and analog recordings. This is done to match the setting, as analog horror works are typically set between the 1960s and 1990s. The name "analog horror" comes from the genre's aesthetic incorporation of elements related to analog electronics, such as analog television and VHS, the latter being an analog method of recording video.

Okay, but this is just what home media was like, and 2002 was at the very tail end of that—boxy black VHS tapes that degraded with time and reuse were just how we lived. At the same time, I'd been using CDs for music since about 1991, and all our software installs came on CD-ROM discs; a "mixtape" by that time had shifted to mean a rewriteable CD rather than a cassette tape. In college, I—well, I'll plead the Fifth as to whether I downloaded mp3s via Napster, but I was also taping Mystery Science Theater 3000 on VHS over the weekends. It was Every Format Everywhere, All At Once, and we kept half a dozen kinds of players around for them. Here in 2023, we stream and download everything invisibly, unless we choose to engage in format nostalgia. (I've already run into the problem of Apple Music deleting songs I really liked, due to this or that licensing issue, because I was really only renting them.) The year The Ring hit theaters was the edge of a last shimmering gasp of physical media where iTunes had only come into being the year before, and iridescent discs were still mostly what we used, but cassettes, both video and audio, were still viable. And so, people did not think it was terribly weird when they started finding unlabeled VHS tapes on their windshields.

Movieweb, quoting TikTok user astro_nina:

"Their marketing strategy was essentially 'let's get this tape viewed by as many people as possible without these people being aware of what this is, sort of raising intrigue," she says. One way they achieved this was by airing the tape, which allegedly marks its viewers for death within seven days, as a commercial with no context. The video would air between late-night programming "with no words, no mention of a movie, for like a month...so people would run into it and it would just go on to the next thing, and people would be like, 'what the f--k is this?'"

I remember seeing the Cursed Video as an unexplained ad at least twice, by the way. That TikTok also indicates that DreamWorks straight-up sent copies of the tape to Hot Topic stores, as well as planting them under actual movie theater seats. While running my movie site, I heard at least one story of someone finding a tape on the sink counter of a restroom at a club. Did the marketing department actually plant tapes in bathrooms—or did a freaked-out recipient leave it there, hoping to dodge the "curse"?

(I haven't embedded the Cursed Video here, by the way—but I could have. If you'd like to see the American take on it, you can watch both the full version and the shorter variant that appeared in the movie itself. A text description of what the fuck you're even looking at is here [content note for both: blood, insects, animal death, body horror, and suicide by falling]. The original version from the Japanese film is shorter, and it's eerie rather than gruesome.)

BUT WAIT, THERE WAS MORE: DreamWorks had something of an alternate-reality campaign going with a handful of in-character websites. This was only a year after Warner Bros. ran the groundbreaking "The Beast" ARG for A.I.: Artificial Intelligence: "Ultimately, fifty websites with a total of about one thousand pages were created for the [A.I.] game." (I lurked in the Cloudmakers Yahoo group.) Marketing for The Ring did not go anywhere that in depth, nor did it need to; it was both a smaller film and a smaller story. I saw at least two “personal” websites (seemingly amateur and a little tacky, like my own), but the one I particularly remember was about someone who owned/trained horses? I'm not sure if it was meant to be the actual Anna Morgan character—Samara's mother—or maybe someone who had noticed that the Morgans' horses were disturbed? I'm not even sure anyone even remembers this but me. Reddit users dug up a few other archived websites, but they're about Sadako, the curse and/or videotape; they aren't as subtle or character-oriented as the site I remember. (Honestly, I wonder if weird shit like "What Scares Me" or "SEVEN DAYS TO LIVE" were made by fans rather than a marketing department, but who knows.)

[The “About” page from Seven Days to Live on the Internet Archive.]

[The entirety of An Open Letter on the Internet Archive. “UPDATE” is a now-blank pop-up. I would bet $5 that it was originally a pop-up of the cursed video.]

I need to point out here that Facebook did not exist in 2002. It would not exist for another two years, and Twitter wouldn't exist until 2006. Even MySpace was not a thing until the next year. I didn't start my Livejournal until October of 2003. What we had, for the most part, were independent forums and blogs. We also had Creepy Internet Fiction like "The Dionaea House" and "Ted the Caver"; their use of the blog format, of people out there seemingly living their lives until something fucked up went down, gave the stories the shape of reality. And it helped that these blogs had comment sections, sure—sometimes more story unfolded there—but for the most part, an author could "abandon" a blog, and you'd just find the story there via word of mouth. Like the Ring blogs I remember, it wouldn't seem strange if no one replied to you, whereas today, you'd have to hire a writer to sit on Twitter, or Reddit, or even Tumblr, and interact with people in character. Could you do something like The Ring's mysterious, weird-ass blogs today? Would anyone even notice?

So: It's 2002, my head is full of Alternate Reality and eerie images and you saw it, and I'm hype as hell to go out and see The Ring. I'm perfectly happy to go see movies by myself, so I went in the early afternoon (best time to get a good seat). The movie ended up being a sleeper hit, and the first weekend, the public was still sleeping on it, so there were only 7-8 other people in that theater, grouped in maybe two clusters. I was off in my own little pool of darkness in the upper right quadrant. Functionally, once the lights went down, I was alone.

Despite some middling reviews at the time, The Ring is something of a horror classic nowadays. If you want a scary movie this Spooky Season, check out The Ring. Or don't, because it nearly killed me.

We're at the last, I don't know, third of the movie? And Our Heroine has tracked down the origin of the Cursed Videotape to some creepy mountain motel or whatever. SPOILER, it turns out that it was built over the Cursed Well (everything in this movie is cursed) that Our Villain was thrown into—that's why Sadako/Samara is a vengeful wet murder ghost crawling out of TVs now. While investigating this decrepit hotel room, intrepid journalist Rachel and her, who is it, her ex-husband? her kid's dad, idk, discover the well under the creaky old floorboards. And then, wouldn't you know it,

NAOMI WATTS FALLS INTO THE WELL

NAOMI WATTS FALLS INTO THE FUCKING WELL

THAT'S WHERE SAMARA'S BODY IS

[The rather slapstick moment when Rachel falls into the well. Does not include what actually happens next.]

I go absolutely rigid in my seat. Naomi Watts is splashing around this dark-ass death swamp of a well and I know, with as much certainty as I have ever known anything in my life, that Samara is about to pop up in all her pasty, waterlogged glory. All the sad creepy dread, all the desperation to figure out what the fuck all that shit on the tape was and stop Samara from killing Rachel's son, all the horrible contorted victim faces, all the alternate reality I’ve been soaking in, it has all come to this. I have to leave the theater. I cannot be having with this. I have to be gone from this place. My legs do not work. I cannot feel them. I am frozen. I want nothing more in this life or any other to get up and leave this cavernous pitch-black room, and I cannot. I start praying for death. I want you to understand that I am not trying to be flippant or humorous. This is genuinely what went through my head. I was too scared to even think, "You know, you could just pray to pass out or for motion to return to your limbs or something." No, I sat there in The Ring thinking, Please for the love of all mercy just let me cease being.

You know that scene in Mulholland Drive (also starring Naomi Watts)? Winkie's diner and the EXCRUCIATING tension? It was a little like that, except I wasn't watching it, I was experiencing it, and Samara was my dirt monster out behind the diner.

Except that the jump scare didn't actually happen. I mean, yes, Rachel finds Samara's body down there, but—I don't remember exactly, please don't make me go watch it again to tell you what actually happens. It's played more sympathetically on Rachel's part, as I recall, and she and her ex get Samara's body out so that she (Samara) can have a proper burial.

And then it turns out that this is not the end of the movie. It turns out that Rachel has Fucked Up.

I think I was relatively okay through the rest of it, although the climax is Samara emerging from a TV in her full glitching swampy glory to scare [SPOILER] to death. I don't recall praying for death twice. There's a point when you're so exhausted from fear chemicals that you're like, yeah, this might as well happen. Bring it, Soggy. I did have a hard time prying myself out of that seat afterwards, though, and my mom says that when I got home, I had the classic thousand-yard stare. How was the movie?

"It was great," I said, and I meant it.

I've seen things that were objectively scarier (I watched much of The Haunting of Hill House from behind a pillow, to be honest), and it's not like I've never experienced fear in real life. But I respect when a movie that can make me feel so intensely, and there's something weirdly precious about the way horror is a safe roller coaster, as it's often been said. So I love telling the story about The Time The Ring Nearly Killed Me—a movie that actually made my body stop working—and I love thinking of how embedded in a specific time and place that movie was for me. The last gasp of VHS when the Cursed Videotape still seemed plausible; the way the internet was still wild and weird and free; where I was in my life, keeping up so avidly with all the movie news, and finding myself in such a little pool of darkness early one afternoon. It's the scariest movie I saw in a theater; that's the alchemy of circumstance.

[cowgurrrl]

Sweet Jane

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader (plus platonic Ellie Williams x fem!reader)

Author’s note: this actually ripped my heart out and made me realize why I don’t write angst

Summary: “If I have children, I hope they live quiet lives. No fires for them. No sickness. No breaking news stories. I hope they die of old age, far from the pages of history books.” - oh, to live unremarkably by Trista Mateer [2.3k]

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, talks of child loss (reader has lost a child) teen pregnancy, tumultuous parent/child relationships, references to a sexual relationship but nothing explicit, reader is a badass because I said so, ANGST

The second you saw her, you knew this was a possibility. You knew it would happen at one point but watched your tongue. You thought it would happen in the middle of a firefight or trying to survive a horde of Infected or some other dangerous situation where you couldn't stop the words from tumbling out of your mouth. It doesn't. It happens on a sunny autumn day while walking away from the ravaged Kansas City. She was trying to show off or prove something to Joel when she tried to run forward without warning. It came out as a gasp as you grabbed her backpack and yanked her back before her foot could slip off the ledge of a cliff. Your heart pounded as you gripped her like you were waiting for her to start falling again. She mumbled a quick sorry before you let her go. She didn't try to run forward again after that.

She waits longer than you expected to ask about it. After you set up camp for the night and cook whatever Joel decided, Ellie looks at you and asks, "who's Jane?" Joel's brows furrow at the question, and your chest tightens. “You called me Jane earlier."

"Jane's my daughter." You catch yourself using the present tense, and grief trickles down your spine like an unpleasant cold shower. Saying that she was your daughter sounds wrong. It's been years now, but you can't make yourself switch. She's still your daughter, even if she's gone. You're still her mom. You'll always be her mom.

"Oh," she gapes, and you nod. You can feel Joel's eyes on you, but you don't look at him. If you do, the words will tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. You didn't know." You say, shrugging as if she gave you the wrong directions instead of asking about your kid. She doesn't push the subject anymore, and you eat silently until Ellie crawls into her sleeping bag and falls asleep. 

Cicadas' chirps and the fire's crackling fill the space between Joel and you. The stars twinkle as the clouds move in the night sky. It's peaceful. Or it would be, at least, if Joel hadn't been fiddling with his gun for the past twenty minutes. The metal clicking is almost enough to drive you crazy, and you shoot him a look. He freezes and meets your eyes before letting his hands drop.

"Sorry," he says, and you chuckle. He props the gun up next to him and glances around to make sure nothing's decided to sneak close to you. 

"I think we're safe," You say.

"For now."

"Joel Miller, ever the optimist."

"It ain't about being optimistic. It's about being smart."

"Right," you shake your head and look at Ellie sleeping in the corner. Her chest rises and falls steadily as she dreams secret dreams. You smile when she snuggles deeper into her sleeping bag and scrunches her nose. "You think she'll be okay?" You ask, meeting his eyes. 

"Kids seem to handle these things better." 

"Sam was her friend."

"I know." He says. Images of shaky guns, Ellie's screams, and the silence that followed Henry's body hitting the floor replay in your mind in slow motion. You're trying to figure out where it went wrong, when the universe pulled yet another rug out from under you. When you put the two kids to bed, everything was fine, and not even eight hours later, Sam and Henry were dead. How many people will you bury before you get to the Fireflies? 

"I'm tired," you admit softly. You can tell by the faraway look in his eyes that he's in his own head, turning things over to look for new details. He's looking for something he missed. "What're you thinking about?" You ask, snapping him out of it, and he shifts uncomfortably.

"You never told me you had a daughter." He finally says, and you nod. You look down at your bootlaces and untie them, so you don't have to look at him.

"It never came up." 

"Her name was Jane?" He phrases it like he wasn't listening the first time, but you know he's trying to get you to open up about her.

"Jane Eloise," saying her full name scratches at an unhealed wound deep in your stomach. You think about all the times you shouted those names across the apartment to her. You were always late for school, late for a birthday party, and late for appointments. You're almost positive she would've been late to her own birth if you hadn't been induced. Rushing was the way you lived your life for that decade. You would give anything to be running late with her again. "If I talk about her, I'm gonna cry." You warn.

"That's okay." His voice is so soft, and he's looking at you with those big eyes, and something shifts. You haven't talked about her in years, but something in Joel's demeanor makes you feel safe enough to unlock the door in your brain, holding all her memories.

"I had her when I was sixteen. I was pregnant throughout my sophomore year of high school and had a toddler by the time I went to college. I still don't know how, but I graduated. I was gonna go to med school and start a brand new life, just the two of us. I spent so fucking long studying, but it didn't matter."

"How come I didn't know all this?"

"We agreed to keep our pasts to ourselves when we started," you hesitate—started seeing each other as stress relief and nothing else? Started lying to Tess so you could fuck in alleys in between deals? Started pretending like it meant nothing? "I never thought you'd want to know more than you had to."

"I want to know now," He says like it's the easiest thing in the world. "Did her dad stay around to help you?"

"No, he left the second he got the chance. It was probably for the better, anyway. He was an asshole. I still don't know if he's alive or if he even knows what happened. I don't know if I care enough to find out."

"How old was she when she…" he trails off, the last word dying on his tongue. You swallow around the lump in your throat and take a shaky breath.

"Ten."

"I'm sorry." He says, and you nod. You never knew how to respond to people when they told you they were sorry your kid was dead. You still don't. Nobody tells you about this part in parenting classes.

"We got out on Outbreak Day. Somehow, I kept her alive until I could get her to the QZ nearby. I smuggled there for a few years and made enough money to feed and clothe her. That's better than most people were able to do. I would pick her up from school and walk her home most days but I had a deal with one of my neighbors, Mrs. Carmichael, that if I couldn't pick her up from school, she would. She picked her up a few times, and nothing went wrong. So, when I got caught up in a deal outside the walls one day, I thought it was safe to finish it and be home by dinner," you say, regret washing over you all at once. "Then, Fireflies started dropping bombs. I heard the explosions all the way out there, and I ran back, but it didn't matter. They were both gone."

"When I told my mom I was pregnant, she was furious. She told me that a mother's love is nothing compared to a mother's fury. At least, that was her excuse when she threw me out, but I didn't know if I believed her until that day. After Jane died, I ripped the entire city apart, looking for every single Firefly that had orders to drop bombs that day, and I killed all of them without batting an eye, and it still didn't bring her back. I still woke up every morning and listened for her breathing or the sound of her making cereal in the kitchen. I waited for her to come home every day for years," tears fall from your eyes, and you quickly wipe them away. Joel is clinging to your every word. "I couldn't stay there. My daughter and everyone who could've been responsible for her death was dead, so I came to Boston. Met you and Tess, and that was it."

"That's why you wanted to kill Marlene when we got Ellie." He says, connecting the dots, and you nod.

"I wanted to drop a fucking bomb on her head for what she did. I don't care if that makes me cruel. She killed my kid and called her collateral. Made it seem like she was a part of the cause and not a fucking child just trying to get home from school."

"I get it," he says. You open your mouth to say something about how he could never understand, how nobody ever could, but he beats you to it. "My… Sarah was fourteen," He stumbles over his words. "I wanted to kill the guy who shot her. I didn't care that he was following orders on that day, I wanted him to suffer, but he was already dead." 

Joel had a daughter, not much older than yours, and you never talked about either of them. He's one of the only people in the world who can see your pain, the black hole Jane left in you, and show you his matching one. Joel must've been young when he had his daughter, too. Twenty-two, at the very least. How could you have never talked about this?

"What was Sarah like?"

"She was a spitfire and just about the funniest person I've ever known. Smart as hell, too. She was always readin' and telling me everything she learned in school. I never understood half of it, but she loved it," He says, and it's your turn to cling to his every word. His eyes light up as he talks about her. You see now what a good dad he must've been. "Still don't know where she got it from."

"Well, I'd say she got it from her dad. You're smarter than you give yourself credit for." You say, but he shakes his head, refusing the compliment.

"What about Jane? What was she like?" He asks, and you think for a moment. You remember her big brown eyes; how they widened when she was excited about something or glazed over with tears when she was afraid. You remember how her laugh could fill a room. You remember cradling her in your arms when she came into the world and when you found her.

"She was the most beautiful person I've ever met. When she was born, all the nurses would take turns coming into my room to look at her. They couldn't stop telling me how cute she was, and I agreed with them. She was perfect," you smile, remembering how many pictures you took of her tiny face. You had been terrified your entire pregnancy, but the second you saw her, you knew you were meant to be her mom. You felt completely at peace with her, even as young and unprepared as you were. 

"She was quiet and curious, but she also had moments where she was loud and careless like kids usually are. I never understood what people meant when they said having kids gave them a whole new idea of what love could be until I had her. She was the best thing that ever happened to me." You say. Joel watches you wipe more tears away before putting his hand on your knee and squeezing. He doesn't say anything, but the look in his eyes tells you everything.

"I wonder if they would've been friends. Our daughters." He thinks aloud.

"I like to think so."

"Me too," he says. He clears his throat, probably trying to bury any emotions this conversation brought up. "She would've loved you."

"You think?" You ask, and he nods. 

"You two would've been thick as thieves. Probably conspire against me or somethin'."

"And that's different from now, how?" He laughs at that, and you smile. You put your hand over his and let your thumb trace the contours of his knuckles. Those bruised, scarred, terrifying mountains that have killed and beaten soften under your touch. 

You don't say much else for the rest of the night. You just hold his hand and stay awake to protect the girl not much older than your daughters were. The fear, cautious optimism, and sadness that came along with Ellie, that you thought you were alone in feeling doesn't feel as heavy anymore. The black hole Jane left will never be filled, and you will miss her for the rest of your life, but Joel opening up and showing you his similar wound makes you feel less alone. 

It makes you wonder if your girls are together somewhere far from all the pain and bloodshed. You wonder if they've secretly conspired to make you two find each other. You wonder what they would think of each other, of the people their parents turned into, of Ellie. It's nice to think they're together, playing silly games while waiting for you. 

Not yet, sweet Jane, you think as you look at the stars, and maybe it's a mind trick or exhaustion, but you swear a star winks back at you. Not yet, Mommy, she seems to agree. 

💫

💫

[sughuru]

curses, its so bitter.

- geto suguru x reader

The burden of consuming curses takes an emotional toll on Suguru, elevated by the recent loss of Amanai Riko. As Suguru retreats into his own silent struggles, the caring intervention of their partner becomes a source of warmth and healing.

genres/warnings: angsty, fluffy, hurt/comfort, minor character death, spoilers for JJK season 2(?)

notes: got an exam tomorrow but i'm writing this instead 😭 anyways, enjoy!! i'm going to sleep now, gn (nah i'm going to study fr wml!) as always, english isn't my first language, so ignore the grammatical errors, sorry!

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—

Exorcise. Absorb. No one else understands what cursed spirits taste like. It's like swallowing a dirty rag that’s been used to clean up shit and vomit. Geto Suguru believed that no one in this world understood what he was going through; maybe he’s right. After all, it's rare for a curse user to actually like the taste of it.

You knocked on his bedroom door, “Suguru?” your voice laced with a hint of worry. 

Suguru remained silent, his form unmoving on the bed as he replayed the details of the earlier mission in his mind. The echoes of the mission played relentlessly in his mind, each moment etched with the bitter taste of failure. The weight of regret pressed upon him as he struggled with accepting the harsh truth – he couldn't save her. Amanai Riko; the girl had dreams, and Suguru couldn't forgive himself for failing to shield her from her doom. 

You quietly entered the room out of concern for your boyfriend, “babe.”

You approached his lying figure, “you haven’t eaten all day…” you worriedly muttered, your hands reached out to touch his shoulder but he quickly turned around, his back was now facing you.

“Not hungry.” he replied briefly, you noticed the slight crack in his voice.

While you may have not been a curse user but you were well aware of his habits. Whenever Suguru ate a curse, the lingering taste of the curse would hinder him from eating actual food. Combining that and the death of Amanai Riko, he wallowed in grief and sadness with an empty stomach.

Of course, as the loving significant other you are, you refused to let your boyfriend starve or struggle for another minute.

“Don’t be like that…” You sighed, touching his back. This time, he didn’t flinch or move away. That’s good.

You gave yourself some time to think, “how about tea? I can make some tea for you right now.” 

Suguru hummed, not having the energy to respond to you. Honestly, he felt bad for ignoring you like this. All he wants to do right now is pull you close to him and mutter apologies for being so…so emotional right now, but he doesn’t have the energy to do so.

You left the room and once again, Suguru was left alone in the room with his thoughts.

Was he being too harsh on you? Will you leave him because he’s treating you like shit right now? Is it wrong of him to be pushing you away like this?

So many questions yet none of them had a concrete answer.

You returned with a cup of tea in one hand, some leftover cookies you baked from trying out a new recipe. You set the cookies by the night stand, “I got your tea.”

He ignores you.

“It’s your favorite. Chamomile with a teaspoon of honey.” 

Suguru shifted, facing you before mustering the energy and courage to sit up. His voice, hoarse and weary, as if he hadn't had a sip of water in days. "You... really didn't have to trouble yourself, really," he replied, acknowledging the concern you showed. The fatigue in his tone hinted at the toll recent events had taken on him.

“Nonsense.” she smiled, handing him the cup, “I enjoy taking care of you.”

Suguru managed to smile slightly, you noticed his eyes didn’t wrinkle like it used to, it no longer had that spark and his eyebags were more prominent. Of course you weren’t blaming him but you can’t help but feel sad realizing just how much his technique has been impacting him, especially after his most recent mission.

“Thanks.” 

“Now,” she said as her hand slowly made its way to his free hand, “do you want to talk?” He sighs, “Okay.”

"I just–" he starts, "eating curses, it tastes like shit. I hate it, yet I have to do it," he says, his voice carrying a mixture of frustration and resignation.

“Worst part is,” he adds as he squeezed your hand, “the worst part is, when you eat real food, you think of the curse you most recently ate…making it taste like it.” he explains as he took a sip of his tea.

You stroke his hand with your thumb, reassuring him in your own way, “I’m sorry you have to go through that.”

Suguru’s tone changed into more of a hateful tone, “it's because of those…those monkeys. I have to eat their curses.” he muttered, “I hate them. Useless monkeys.”

“Monkeys?”

"Humans. Non-sorcerers," he explained, taking another sip of his tea. "Curses spawn through non-sorcerers' negative energy," he continued, his tone carrying a distinct bitterness, as if the very thought angered him. 

Why the hell should Jujutsu sorcerers lose their life over something non-jujutsu sorcerers do? Why should they protect the weak, why should the strong protect the weak?

It angered him, the bitterness evident in every word as he expressed his frustration. "Not only are humans – monkeys, useless, but they're also the reason why Jujutsu sorcerers die on a daily basis. At the very least, if you’re useless, don’t make shit harder for us," he muttered with a tone that carried a mix of irritation and exhaustion.

You continued to hum, your thumb stroking his hand gently. Suguru rarely opened up about his true feelings. If anything, he played the role of everyone's therapist, ‘everyone’ being you and his best friend, Satoru.

Satoru looks for him after an earful from Yaga or calls him whenever he has no one else to try out the newest mochi shop that opened just around the corner. Suguru was also your rock; you'd go to him when you felt down or depressed, and even if you didn't, he always found out and looked after you.

Slowly, everything– being the therapist friend, Amanai Riko’s death, curse eating, school, it was all too much for him; instead of seeking you out and finding comfort, he chose to keep quiet, letting his negative emotions swallow him, making him feel like an empty seed.

“You know what else hurts?” He dryly laughed, “the fact that no one– well, almost no one noticed I’ve been quieter, I’ve been going out less and less.” He looked at you with hurt in his eyes, an expression you’ve never seen before.

“Shoko is busy studying to be a med student, Satoru probably could care less about how I feel, and you…” he looked away, “you’re probably only here out of pity.”

You widen your eyes, “Suguru, no, of course not.”

“Why?” he looks at you once again, “why did you come find me today?” Suguru asks, his eyes were looking for something in yours, an answer, perhaps?

You played with his fingers, tugging on them gently one by one, “you’ve been severely sad these past few days, Satoru, Shoko, me– hell, even Nanami and Haibara noticed as well.” You laughed dryly, “I couldn’t just sit here and leave you alone.” 

Suguru pulled you into a hug, “thank you, love.”

You hummed, hugging him back before he suddenly laid back down onto the bed, turning the hug into a cuddle, “now, will you please try and eat something?” you giggled.

Suguru, who seemed to be feeling better smiled, “okay, maybe a bite of that cookie won’t hurt.”

[calisources]

THE   ROYAL   TREATMENT.   all   sentences   are   either   taken   from   fantasy   or   fictional   and   historical   novels   about   kings,   queens,   royal   blood   and   some   sparked   romance   and   magic.   change   all   pronouns   and   names,   locations   as   you   see   fit.

“You are enough to drive a saint to madness or a king to his knees.”

“She was a ray of sunshine, a warm summer rain, a bright fire on a cold winter’s day, and now she could be dead because she had tried to save the man she loved.”

“He was a man known for the violence of his temper as well as the deliciousness of his touch.”

“Am I making you nervous, Natalie?”

“Sad it is, the fate of kings.”

“Go to this masquerade ball with your new friends, put on a pretty gown, and dance the night away.”

“Repentance is like a royal cheer.”

“Even the small joys are worth cherishing, and they will lead to greater ones.”

“when you become king shall find many difficult tasks and you shall have to hurt others and yourself.”

“The throne brings trouble and grief along with the glory.”

“Anger is a feeling afforded only by royal blood. Ordinary people ask for mercy in such situations.”

“True leadership is serving others; follow Queen Elizabeth's noble example.”

“Success isn't wealth or status; impact matters.”

“The power of empowerment can change the world, one person at a time.”

“Leadership is service, not a throne to seize.”

“I have in sincerity pledged myself to your service, as so many of you are pledged to mine.”

“Proper training is key, it allows one to accomplish a great deal."

“Oh honey, someday a real man is going to make you see stars and you won't even be looking at the sky."

“Royalty comes with a cost. My great-great-grandfather was one, and he left me no royalty but loyalty to empower people.”

“At all times an empire is more important than emperor and empress, prince and princess.”

“You might have to ask yourself, however right your claim is, if you are the leader the realm needs and wants.”

“You’re Royal. Get used to it and that involves a lot of burdens and things you don’t want to do.”

“I’m in awe of you, Rowan Palotay.”

“Slow down there, princess. How do you know what kind of first impression you gave me?”

“Prayer is a royal power.”

“You forget yourself and who you are speaking of.”

“Anyone young, famous and beautiful who dies young is forever frozen in time and fascinating to all of us.”

“Youths are the life blood of any nation.”

“I am not yet come of age, my lord. How can I be queen?”

“To crown her is to kill her.”

“He didn't marry you to become king. He became king because he wanted to marry you.”

“Little by little, the old world crumbled, and not once did the king imagine that some of the pieces might fall on him.”

“I believe we are what we make ourselves, and as such, you, Crown Princess, are nothing.”

“Rule with the heart of a servant. Serve with the heart of a king.”

“There’s a fine line between gossip and history, when one is talking about kings.”

“We kings do develop a certain ability to recognize objects under our noses.”

“...alone is such a nebulous state when one is queen.”

“I respect you as my king, and I respect you as my father, but I do not respect you as a man!”

“She was made to be a queen, just like her mother.”

Protect Myrcella with your life. Defend her... and her rights. Set a crown upon her head.“”

“You’re my princess, right? You were always going to be my princess, no matter what you were born.”

“For dogs we kings should have lions, and for cats, tigers. The great benefits a crown.”

“This marriage had resulted from impulse.”

“The king is a saint and cannot rule, and his son is a devil and should not.”

“One does not ask if one likes the Blood Royal. They simply are. It is like asking if one likes the Gods.”

“You are a king worthy of their allegiance . . . with a queen full of fire and promise.”

“The idea that how you are born or the name you are given dictate the sort of person you really are.”

“You seem to think that you can still turn back, but it’s too late. You’ll have to face it, Princess. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but soon enough. And you can’t be this scared when the time comes.”

“Was it worse, she wondered, to be wanted dead or wanted Queen?”

“My royal status is both a shield that protects me and a sword that impales my heart.”

“Respect shouldn't be hereditary; it must be earned.”

“You know, for a pampered princess, you have a certain gift for violence.”

“There is nothing sharper than a well mannered princess’ words.Their true meaning are a mystery.”

“People are born great but yet need to grow into greatness”

“Kings needn’t raise their voices to be heard.”

“She was their witch queen, and they adored her.”

“To be fair, I don't quite see any difference between an assassin and a knight. They both kill people, only one "in the name of Honour '' and the other is just a "monster"

“Crowns belong to those that serve.”

“I have the softness and meekness of a daughter but I also have the boldness and Braveheart of a Son.”

“Will you visit my chambers tonight?”

“A throne won in blood will soon be drenched in it.”

“Even when she's dethroned by hardship, she still wears the sun as a crown.”

“The Princess knew in her heart she is strong, smart, and capable because it is in her blood.”

“There is the matter of succession that has to be settled. You don’t start a reign without settling how it continues.”

“My reign has been anything but traditional. Let’s not start now, shall we?”

“Every girl thinks about growing up in a palace. Few ever ponder living in a cage.”

“Often blessings and burdens comes hand in hand. The bigger the Crown the heavier the burden”

“If stubborness were all that was needed to be a good queen, I'd rule the world.”

“Some girls have a frightening killer instinct. Don't let the ball gowns fool you.”

“You don't turn your back on your destiny.”

[readychilledwine]

Wide Awake

Summary - Tamlin comes to a slow realization seeing you fight in the War against Hybern. Now he can only hope it's not too late

Warnings - mentions of blood and death, Tamlin being in love

A/n - some tamlin fluff before I drop angst for sad Boi spring day 💜

He had to get to you.

Tamlin's only thought as he watched blood and death spread around him was you.

You were fighting in this war, this war he allowed to happen, and he wasn't at your side. That thought alone chilled him despite the fur as he tore through male after male in search of you. Since childhood, there hadn't been a moment where you weren't by his side. 

And now in a moment where he could feel your fear, worry, and pain, he wasn't at yours. 

It had taken much too long for that bond to snap, and it came in such a moment of heartache that all Tamlin could do was ignore it for the past 50 years. 

He was done doing that now.

He was done ignoring you.

Done pretending that if he didn't love you, that if you weren't his mate, you were safe.

He knew you were close. That constant tug on the bond driving each tear of flesh, each swipe of sharp claws. 

He finally reached you, seeing you and Lucien back to back and completely surrounded. He shifted and winnowed in immediately, his back to your front. “Welcome to the party,” Lucien said smoothly. “Any ideas?”

You were spent, leaning against him as you held the bleeding stomach wound you had been ignoring. “You're going to winnow, y/n to a healer and get her the fuck out of here.” It was his only idea. Mind clouded by thoughts of your health and safety alone. “I'll find you.” 

You shook your head against him, summoning what little magic you had left and watched as the Hybern beasts were trapped in heavy thick vines. You kneeled to the ground, watching as he and Lucien handled it from there. Watching as everything slowly faded to black.

You were greeted by silence when you woke up. No metal clashing, no screams, no crying. Just silence and darkness surrounding you as if someone or something had taken you somewhere peaceful. It wasn't until you felt a warm hand holding yours that you realized someone had taken you somewhere safe.

Tamlin was sleeping in a chair next to you. He had one of his hands wrapped around yours, snoring softly. “He hasn't left since we brought you here. Told Rhysand and Beron to go fuck themselves or each other when they wanted to discuss new attack and line up plans due to the arrival of the humans and Drakon's army.” Lucien set his book down, looking at you with a perfect brow raised. 

“I should not honestly be surprised,” Lucien picked his book back up when you didn't answer him. “You two have always been inseparable until she came. And then, well, Feyre.” 

You huffed out a small laugh, flinching slightly at the pull on your stomach. “Yeah. I wouldn't laugh for a while. You got cut pretty deep. Not as bad as Cassian, but still deep.”

You squeezed Tamlin's hand, moving to sit up only to have him squeeze your hand back and stop you. “Stop trying to move. We couldn't heal you all the way.” His voice was heavy with sleep and concern as green eyes opened to meet yours. Lucien left the tent quietly, unnoticed by you two as you stared at each other. “I need to apologize,” Tamlin said softly. “For a lot.”

You only nodded. Waiting as you felt his grief down that faded bond. He took a deep breath and continued. “I was so focused on protecting you when Amarantha first came, that I didn't think about how deeply I was hurting you. I didn't think about your feelings, and for that, I am beyond sorry.” You nodded, having already known how much he regretted the choices he had to make and the wedge it had driven between the two of you. “Then I become obsessed with Feyre-”

“Obsessed is an understatement,” you brushed your hands on the sheets. “But continue.”

Tamlin smiled, a rare smile you had not seen in years. “I see near death did not change your attitude,” he moved to holding your chin gently. “I am sorry about that as well. It was you. It was always you, and I do not deserve your love nor forgiveness.”

You forced yourself to sit up, ignoring the igniting discomfort, and sat on the edge of the bed. “I decide that, don't I?” He took his turn, nodding at you. “You have a lot to make up for.” 

“And I'd give you everything I have until my last breath to do that.” You hadn't noticed the distance closing between the two of you until his breath fanned your face softly. “I'd offer you the world on a silver platter, give up my home, everything, for you. I was too blind to realize that before. Not anymore, though.” 

You didn't answer, just kissed him gently ignoring the butterflies fluttering in your stomach. He pulled you closer, hand on the back of your neck. You relished the feeling of his soft lips on yours, of his scent surrounding you in safety and comfort. Tamlin pulled away,  “I love you. Always have. Always will. Long before this bond snapped,” he leaned his forehead against yours. 

“I love you too,” you paused as he smiled. “Even if you are a dick.” 

Tamlin's tongue clicked, his brows growing up. “Here we go-”

“Really like trapping her in the house,” you began to ramble off, him smiling softly the whole time, and responding to your sass with his own playful banter, fingers rubbing against your knuckles. 

You both hadn't felt this content in years.

And Tamlin was prepared to do anything to keep it this way.

[mehiwilldoitlater]

first part

Two years.

The last time you saw his smugface was two years ago. Now you were there, dragged before him by some clowns, under the gaze of some of his colleagues. They wondered why one of the neo-formed Cross Guild leaders wanted you there; you weren't angry or anything at all.

Two years ago, your life was simple on that small island, in the garden that reminded you of Eden in your old books. Nothing mattered; your life was easy. He came from time to time and was always busy with his work. The hero of Alabasta is your lover.

Lies, all lies.

You never knew anything; he kept you from knowing everything about that.

Two years ago, the newspaper came, and then you knew. The lies that he told you are his true colors.

Baroque works, the dancing powder, the lives that he had taken...

The horror that engulfed you sickened you to the point that even his face on the newspaper was enough to send a chill down your back.

Then hell came.

You were a civilian, and you tried to explain that to the Marine that had taken you away for a few questions. They said that it was something like a few days, nothing more. You stayed in that somehow prison, near the Marine base, for almost a month, with the same questions and the same dirty looks every day. You were a criminal for them, just like him.

"How long have you known Crocodile?"

"Not so long..."

"How much did you know about his connections with that organization?"

"Nothing, I don't know..."

"Did he ever mention you about his plans?"

"I don't know..."

"Did you know about his activities?"

"I don't know..."

Every day, the same questions were asked, and you were forced to remember the few moments of happiness that you had with that man. 

Until that woman came. A captain that was present on the day of the crocodile arrest decided to finally take over your case.

"She's a civilian; the only connection with that criminal was a romantic one. Hina's surprised that you all didn't get it before. Let her go."

When you left that damn place, you had nothing but the few things that you had the day you came. You had nothing—nothing but the grief of his betrayal.

Then something changed. Your grief set aflame, a new one—hate.

You hated him; you hated everything about him—the memories, the moments of kindness, the lies. EVERYTHING.

You sell everything that you have—every detail that could lead you to him. The ring, the earring, the clothes—all of it. You didn't need them; those staff were nothing to you!

With the money that you gained, you were able to start anew, far away from everything.

On an island, away from the memories and your past, you found work in a small flower shop, a small apartment, a small world, and a new future.

Everything there was simple; no one knew you, and no one needed to know. You were a mistery for everyone there, but no one bothered to ask or to pry on. Even the old owner of the shop was content enough to just have you around.

"Ummm...today someone will come to court you again. my dear Y/n..." He said this while rocking in his chair. You almost dropped the watering can for the surprise.

"W-what?! No, no, what are you saying? Hehe, don't mock me!"

"Hehe, are you sure?" He was eyeing the young man who was reaching the shop.

Well, that was true... 

In a few weeks, you became one of the most courted girls in the village. Even after your continuous refusals, the confessions made you feel giddy. Despite it all, maybe you wanted that kind of new start.

There was a boy, a little older than you, who never gave up on you. He kept visiting you, asking about yourself, your dreams, your hopes...

A part of you wanted to open up to him. Maybe tell him about everything... Maybe you deserve to love again.

Then they came.

Two strange men looked like some kind of clown. No one knew who they were or where they came from, but they knew you. They take you away, forcing you to follow them on a ship, away from your new life and from your future.

They brought you back to the crocodile.

And now you were there, back to him, in that place full of criminals. The same ones that he hides so well from your mind, not letting you know. All the eyes were on you, but you felt only his eyes. You were too scared to look at him.

"Welcome back, Y/N..."

You said nothing; you stayed there, holding your hand, avoiding his gaze or responding to him.

"You seem well; I'm happy."

"..."

"Those boozes treat you? I hope they didn't manhandle you too much."

"..."

"I tried to find you, but you were gone. Avoid the Marine has been a-"

"I want to go home."

A new silence fell there. Your voice trembled a little, but you held on with enough strength to not fall down on your knees. The ex-warlord looked at you, waiting for something else for you. You said nothing; you didn't need to say anything else.

"This is your home."

"No, I have a work and a new home. I don't need you... It's over."

He inhaled deeply, and his teeth bit the cigar in his mouth to the point of cutting it in half. In a few seconds, his hand was attached to your wrist, dragging you away from the tent and the other members of the guild. You protested all the way to his own private tent, scrambling and punching, trying to get free from his grasp.

He threw you inside, blocking the passage from the outside. The only light came from a few lamps on his desk.

" Over? This is what you think? That is over?"

"I don't think it's over; I know it! I don't care about you! Not anymore!"

"Where's your ring? ...The one that I gave you?"

"...I sold it. I needed money to find a new place. After your...I-I lost everything. I wanted to start again."

Of course, that was almost natural. Everything that was yours was under his name; of course, the Marines would have your house confiscated. You needed to survive—such a clever girl.

If he only knew the feelings of freedom that you felt once you got rid of that small gift.

"You can start here with me."

"No! I said, I want to go home!"

"I AM YOUR HOME, GODDAMMIT!"

His bigger hands grasped your shoulders, squeezing them with force, like you could run away at any second. something that you were considering.

"You're nothing to-"

"You think that you can just walk away like this?! Do you have any idea what happened?! Two years in that prison, not a chance to know anything about you?!"

Then he stopped, and you saw something dark in his eyes. He wasn't angry, not anymore, but he was something else, something scarier.

"Did you find someone else?"

All the strength that you had left in your body, like the oxygen in your lungs, You were scared—no, terrified. You never had anyone else; you were too afraid to be betrayed again, but it wasn't even like you never thought about it. You avoided his gaze, not knowing what to say. All the answers that you could say end in the same way, and you didn't want any of the outcomes.

"Did you?"

"I didn't, but I wanted... I wanted to forget everything and start over."

You were always so easy to read, so he knew that you were telling the truth. He wanted to keep you away from everything that belonged to his normal life, to secure his flower, and to keep you to himself. The final outcome was something that he didn't expect, but he never imagined that, in the end, you would have been one of the victims too. 

A long pause, one that scared you. Once you saw a movement from him, you closed his eyes. He sighed deeply; this one hurt him deeply. To believe that he could hit you...he was a rough man, but not to this point, not to you at least.

His calloused hand gently stroked your head, softly touching your cheek, trying to convince you to finally look at him. A gesture so in contrast with his entire being, so gentle and delicate, away from prying eyes. Something that only you should know. You opened your eyes, full of fears and tears, ready to spill.

"You belong by my side... You weren't supposed to know anything."

He took away one of his rings from his hand, a deep red ruby gemstone, gently placing it on your forefinger. It was larger compared to you...

"This time we'll make it right... No one will take you away again."

He gently held your figure, too scared to fight him. His perfume brought back all the memories that you tried to erase with every fiber of your mind.

This time, he would have to make sure that no one took away his flower.

"You're mine, got it?"

[xoxo-sarah]

Done This Before

↝pairing: Daryl Dixon x reader

↝warning: angst, Leah, inaccurate/ not canon events for Daryl meeting Dog and Leah, death (reader), mention of death, set season 9 when Daryl leaves to look for Rick's body or whatever, not proofread

|| Disclaimer: I do not own Daryl Dixon, or any character from The Walking Dead. I only own y/n and any characters I create with my own brain. ||

↝⎙ 1.29.24

In the aftermath of yet another loss, Daryl Dixon found himself haunted by the echoes of his past. The weight of grief and guilt bore down on him with unyielding force. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was cursed, that anyone who dared to get close to him would meet a tragic end.

As he stood alone in the silence of the night, memories of those he had lost flooded his mind. The pain of each departure cut deeper, leaving wounds that seemed to never fully heal. His rugged exterior, once a shield against the world, now felt like a prison, trapping him in a cycle of despair.

Your body laid limp in his arms, the feeling all too familiar to Daryl.

"You're not doin' it right." Daryl hissed, watching your fingers fiddle with the bowstring. He didn't mean to come off as irritated. Today was one of those days where he was woke up frustrated with himself and decided to make it everyone's problem. He had so much built up frustration and no where to let it out. Searching for Rick's body was solemnly for closure. For the both of you. You weren't supposed to join him on one random day. But you did. And you stayed, not wanting him to be alone with his thoughts. It was a good call, and as much as Daryl hated to admit it, he was thankful. That didn't stop him from lashing out sometimes. You didn't seem to take it to heart.

There were times where he wasn't mean. Those were the moments where you got to really know each other, find some similarities, make a few jokes. As time passed, you two did more joking and less arguing.

"The string is old, Daryl." You analyzed the frayed string.

Daryl yanked it out of your hands, grumbling.

"'s fine." He knew the bow was old and in need of a new string, he didn't need you telling him jack shit.

You two sat in silence as Daryl examined the bow now. He really should get that fixed, he thought.

Everything happened to fast. One second, you were kicking leaves around, stopping at the feeling of being watched. The next, you heard a rustling and felt a burning sensation on your right side.

The gunshot rang through the woods, scaring any animal in the opposite direction.

You were both caught off guard. It wasn't until your knees have out that Daryl moved, falling beside you. His eyebrows were nearly touching from his face being scrunched in confusion. He violently looked around, catching a head of long, light brown hair as the person ran away as fast as she could.

Unknowingly, It was Leah, someone who Daryl would shortly grow close to, that accidentally pulled the trigger. She had snuck up on you two, watching your interactions, contemplating if you were dangerous or not. She had her gun cocked and ready, waiting. A sudden squirrel running across her foot had her finger squeezing the trigger. Leah panicked and fled the scene out of fear and guilt.

Daryl brought you into his arms, running as fast as he could in the environment. He mindlessly ran in the direction of the closes community he knew of. But it was pointless. It would take far too long to get to any place that could possibly help.

He staggered through branches and bushes, yelling out in desperation, or anyone. It was an all too familiar feeling.

He had done this before.

He stopped at a river, watching the water flow through rocks. You gargled blood, looking up at him, listening to the water and the silence of the woods.

He gently sat you down, kneeling beside you.

You two just looked at each other as the life drained out of your eyes.

Daryl had silently apologized over and over again, feeling his eyes start to sting when you were gone. Officially gone.

Daryl's heart ached as he replayed the moment when he had to watch yet another loved one slip away, much like Beth had. The anguish was a relentless storm, threatening to consume him whole. He couldn't help but wonder if he was the common thread in these tragedies, the dark cloud that hovered over those who dared to care for him.

The flickering flames of the campfire cast dancing shadows across his face, mirroring the turmoil within. His eyes, usually steely and resolute, now betrayed the turmoil of his soul. Each passing day seemed to deepen the chasm of his despair, leaving him adrift in a sea of unanswered questions.

In the depths of his anguish, Daryl struggled to find solace. The very act of opening his heart to another felt like tempting fate, a reckless gamble with the lives of those around him. The burden of his perceived curse weighed heavily on his shoulders, threatening to crush him under its unforgiving weight.

As the night wore on, Daryl's thoughts became a tempest of self-doubt and pain. He was a lone wolf, forever condemned to wander the desolate landscape of his own making. The echoes of his losses reverberated in the stillness, a haunting reminder of the price of his affections.

In the quiet embrace of the night, Daryl Dixon grappled with the ghosts of his past, each one a painful testament to the fragility of life. The stars above bore witness to his silent anguish, a solitary figure adrift in a world that seemed determined to tear apart the very fabric of his being.

A twig broke behind Daryl, causing him to swing around, crossbow-which has a new bowstring- in hand, ready to kill. The puppy barked, looking up at Daryl, head slightly tilted.

•2021-2024 by xoxo-sarah on Tumblr•

•My work is not to be translated, copied, modified, and/or reposted on any other site without my permission. [I don't give permission!]

[from-izzy]

yesterday's petal | nct na jaemin

“I see.” A petal of yesterday falls. “I’ll take care of them now.”

pairing » nct na jaemin x gn!reader (lmk if i missed anything!)​

trope/au » ​non-idol au!, established relationship au!

genre » angst! just full angst!, grief and longing, reader remembering all the good times spent with jaemin, hurt and hope to move on, boyfriend na jaemin who took care of you so well, and you who loved him as much as he loves you

word count, estimated reading time » 1628, ~6 mins

warnings (lmk if i missed anything!) » major character death, grief and loss, sorry not proofread 😭

navi/masterlist!! 🤍 part of 'especially to you...'

didn't think that my first nct story on this app would be this but...i needed this badly...

i am also getting back into nct! i might be able to go to dream's concert this year and i'm so excited! feel free to send me some nct content and help me catch up hehe

but other than that...

in a world where everyone seems to fit in so well and so easily...i hope that someday things will be better for me 🫂

With the amount of times you hit the door frame against the overhanging bell of the shop, it’s no surprise that the older woman recognises you.

Usually, she greets her customers brightly, especially those who look nervous and overwhelmed by her overflowing love and care towards the flowers that she prides herself on. At first, it was like that for you too, but the brightness of it all only lasted a few milliseconds at most.

She’s not new to her job; no, she’s not. She’s been doing this for years, having been brought up to it by her mother who has heavily influenced her to decorate all kinds of events with the delicate being, bringing in colours from one corner of the room to the other. But she knew the second you walked in her door without having to take your hat, scarf or sunglasses off, that you’re different from any of the other customers.

She can sense it from far away: a heart that has stopped beating. Amidst the chaotic, busy world, where most of the time a pin cannot be heard even in the library, she can feel the dejected feeling that your heart clenches painfully and that it never begs to differ. She wonders if you’ve always been like this or if you change under a different circumstance. Did her shop remind you of something unpleasant? Was it making you remember a painful memory that you never want to revisit ever again? 

But you always kept coming back. If not every day, every second day. And this, without fail.

She wishes she had the courage to ask why the corners of your lips have never raised, why your hands are always limped by your side, swaying tirelessly beside your even tired heart. She wishes she could ask why your eyes are always so puffy and sometimes bloodshot when you bow to her as a greeting whenever you exit. And, she would always wonder the reason behind why you would pick up the same flowers every time. Again, with the number of times you visit, she wonders if you’re giving them away or if you just like to fill your room, and perhaps at this point house, just like her.

She never asks because of the way you held the stem of her flowers between your hands. It’s an interesting way to handle her art: you rest the bottom of the stem on your palm with your fingers curving up to make a little bowl while the fingers of your other hand are curled towards the centre of your palm, the little circle however always big enough that when you step over to the counter, the green stalk bounces around the circumference of the circle as you take your step towards her.

Just like every other day, you tapped your card on the machine and left after mouthing a ‘thank you’ when the affirmatory tick was displayed on the screen, a pair of curious eyes behind your slumped shoulders.

Your feet take you to the place that you go to every day, the navigation of getting there already deeply ingrained in you to even try and suppress. With each step, comes the setting of the city that you used to walk with your beloved boyfriend. So many memories are spent in every turn of the city, with every store being visited once whether it be a cafe or a baby clothing store. There was usually no purpose to your visits but the hand that held yours tightly made you remember that sometimes roaming around with no purpose brings the best moments in life. 

The scent of the ramen shop across the street makes you hold your breath for a second, not wanting to trigger the accompanying cilantro scent that your nose remembers. The whirring of the coffee machine that you just passed only makes the inside of your mouth dry, remembering the unhealthy shots of caffeine that your boyfriend would drink without a thought in mind. The uneven paths of the ground play with your balance but this time, Na Jaemin isn’t here to hold on to you or even playfully joke around with you to say that he will ‘never let you fall the same way you already fell for him now’.

God, you just want to experience them again.

The way your friends found their significant others while you mull over the fact that Jaemin has left and will never come back. Not in this life, at least. So many times you would pray that you’ll find someone else but even when another person has shown interest in you and you accepted their offer to take you out on a date, you find yourself only thinking of Jaemin endlessly. 

At first, you thought he cursed you. Just like how he would say he would if you ever woke him up from his after-school nap even though it was supposed to be a movie date at the cinemas. 

But now you know that you’re just not ready for the change that took away the only person who loves you and that you love back an infinite times more. You’re not ready to have another person holding you, kissing you and whispering sweet nothings to you no matter your mood. 

You just want Na Jaemin back.

“Hey…” You arrive at your destination, the glossy stone reflecting the sullen look on your face, hair messy both from the win and simply not caring about readjusting it back; that was supposed to be Jaemin’s thing after all. “How are you doing today?”

Your choice of clothing today is questionable: white shorts when you know that you will be sitting down on the ungrassed Earth. Nevertheless, it didn’t stop you because all you wanted after a tiring day of high school and trailing behind your friends who had their arms joined with the love of their life, is to just talk to Jaemin in a more eye-levelled state. 

The conversations are endless and you make sure not to leave the slightest bit of detail from the day. You try your hardest to be positive, knowing well that Jaemin will always like you that way but one of the reasons why you love him is because if you did cry, he would still love and care for you without judgement or doubt. And the realisation that you’ll never see those eyes that you have fallen in love and would get lost in sinks in again.

You sob. Cry. Weep. Bawl. 

You could scream. Yell. Shout.

And it’s killing you inside all the same.

“I’m so tired of being so lonely when there’s so many people around me, Nana.” Your chin rests on your folded knees to your chest, arms around your legs but hands still holding the flower the same as before. “I’m so tired of being jealous of my friends that they’re still making happy memories with their other person.” The tears stream down your face even more, gulping down your sorrows and pain.

You relish how the coldness of the wind numbed your cheek; at least you’re feeling something.

“I do believe that the time when everything will be better will come and I do believe that the more I understand my feelings, it will get better eventually,” you sniff and gasp out of air, “but I still wish that I didn’t have to rely on time. I wish that I didn’t have to delve in deep and go through all of this.”

His name engraved on the stone only made it harder for you to see anything, your tears blurring your surroundings and the wind only making you cry harder. You take in a shaky breath and though it was not satisfactory, you’re still thankful that it gave you a little more energy to get lost in the feeling of grief.

“I love you.” You repeat a few more times. “And I hope that someday, whenever I hear your name, only the good memories and things you taught me will replay in my head.”

Your fingers reach over to the curves and lines of his name and you smile remembering how his mother included you in the font and general typography, knowing how much the relationship that you both shared has always been a healthy one for both ends. You continue to run over the engraving more, moving your hand back and forth. You continue to blurt out your last few moments of the day along with your plans for the next twenty-four hours before you would rant to him again.

But like you said, time will eventually come and make it all better and currently, the heaviness in your chest is more bearable now. You jump up to your more stable feet, eyes on the flowers that cover the front side of the base. Slowly, you laid the new one between the ones from before. You stare at how it finds its place so easily despite being only introduced a few seconds ago, and you nod at how it may not be you anytime soon.

As you spare a final glance at the fresh flower on top of the one that you just gifted him yesterday, you note the peace that it’s finally been given, still and no longer twirling and swirling in the circle that you have made for it.

When you walk away, the flower looks at how you drag your feet across the soil, and the yesterday flower whispers, “They're still the same as yesterday.” A message that has continued and passed on from the very first one that you laid in hopes of Jaemin knowing that he’s never forgotten.

“I see.” A petal of yesterday falls. “I’ll take care of them now.”

navi/masterlist!! 🤍 'especially to you...'

tags (send a dm/ask if you would like to be here or removed!): @k-labels 💙🤍 @k-films 🤎🎞️ @kflixnet 📺🍿 @sanaxo-o

[imamotherfuckingstar-lord]

fine line

steve rogers x reader summary: steve returns from time traveling back to his old life. will you forgive him? a/n: time travel is different than canon. he just spends weeks back in his old life, in turn misses out on months in the current timeline.

Steve Rogers was many things but a coward? He never thought he had it in him, but as you drew closer into the room and than were suddenly right there in front of him - he wanted to run away. How beautifully relaxed you look, as if the last time you two saw each other wasn't heartbreaking or gut wrenching - the look of grief on your face when he said he had to go. That he couldn't stay with you and needed to go back to his first life.

The tears in your eyes, the trembling in your hands...he never forgot it and when he left back in time, to his time - he knew it was a mistake the moment he stepped foot into a life that he no longer fit in. He came back but traveling through time brought different rules of logic. The few weeks he spent there, meant months for here and now he was seeing you for the first time since saying goodbye. He had returned a week ago and the moment he stepped off the transported, he felt at home. Sam and Bucky had come to see him when they heard the news from Bruce and the reunion was short lived when he asked about you.

"She's been out in California."

"California?"

That's where he was now, standing in the middle of a lab. Bucky had made the trip with him and set up the meeting but you had thought it was a visit from Bucky. The two of you had become closer over the last months since Steve's departure. He had become like a brother to you. So when he had called and said he'd be in California for a few days, you were elated and made arrangements for him to come by the lab you now worked in.

Except it wasn't Bucky who you saw standing there and the excitement of seeing your friend grew stale, but a feign calmness washed over your face and you walked further into the room. Than you were standing in front of Steve Rogers in all his glory and complicated beauty. So many emotions raged through your heart and while you wanted to allow the angry to overrule them all, you couldn't.

How pathetic you felt in that moment when he finally spoke. "I'm back."

"Missed the internet, huh? I can't imagine life without it," you smiled, moving toward the table to your left. Picking up a tablet, you pretended to look over some emails and drew your back to him. He shifted behind you but didn't move closer, instead he began to sprout out a long winded apology. He seemed to speak quickly, almost afraid to miss anything that needed to be said.

"I should have never left..."

Your fingers trembled against the screen of the tablet.

"I was just existing there, but I realized I couldn't just go back to my old life...."

Tears began to swell and you gripped the tablet so hard it began to hurt.

"I'm not that person anymore, I haven't been the same person since I've met you. I -" Steve's voice faltered for a brief moment but he continued, moving a step closer to you. "I wish I could take back that day, I should have never left and I know I don't deserve it, but I just want another chance. Please, sweetheart, give me another chance and I'll spend the rest of my life showing you how much I love you."

His words shook away the remaining anger in your body and you crumbled down against the table, but he was there in seconds, holding you up. Arm wrapped around the front of your stomach, Steve held you up against his chest as you sobbed. He pressed his forehead against your shoulder blade and whispered that he would leave if you wanted him too. "If you need to never see me again, I'll do it..."

The thought brought you back to your senses and you turned in Steve's arms to face him. His eyes took in the hurt expression on his face and he could only hold your face in his hands, rubbing his thumb against your cheek.

"You have to know something..." the something was Peggy Carter and you braced for the worse. "I didn't go see her, when I went back. I just couldn't do it, I thought that was what I should do but I ended up wandering my old neighborhood. I went back to see where Bucky and I used to run around, I did a lot of people watching. I did a lot of missing you."

"I missed you too," you smiled softly, tears falling down your face. Steve wiped them away and pulled you into an embrace.

"I know it's going to take time for you, but I will wait as long as I need to.."

Wrapping your arms around his waist, you looked up at the man you had loved and still love, even if every fiber of your brain told you not to. That he had left you for a world that casted him aside and for a woman, a woman you could never live up to. But here he was, begging for your forgiveness. For another chance and you could only think of a conversation Bucky and you had months ago...

"He had to go, you know that right?"

"His life was here."

Bucky sighed and brought his arm around your shoulder, bringing you in to his side. Resting your head against him, you stared out into the small pond.

"He thinks he needs to go back and live a life that he was meant to but he'll be back, I bet you a pitcher of beer." Bucky smiled down at you. You appreciated his attempt at lightening up the mood, but he squeezed your shoulder when you asked why he thought that Steve would return. "Because you're here."

"Okay."

Your voice was so meek, Steve looked at you with an intense gaze filled with anticipation and nerves. "Okay?"

Nodding, you reached up and touched the side of his face. His eyes fell closed - breathing for what seemed like the first time in weeks. Then you said his name and he opened his eyes, and he knew he was lucky to be given such a chance.

"My instincts want me to run away. I should run away, because you broke my heart, Steve. You have to know that otherwise it will become this thing between us and I don't want anything else to come between us."

His heart sank but he knew you were just being truthful and he deserved to hear it all. He knew he had a lot to make up for and there was a long road to recovering your broken heart but it was a challenge he was more than up for.

"I know," he whispered, sliding his hands up your neck. He held you gently, eyes gazing into yours. "I promise you, I will never leave you again. I will fight for us - you know how much I love a good fight."

Steve smiled and you laughed, shaking your head as his lips moved down against yours. He kissed you hard, longing, arms around your waist and bringing you tight against his body. Your feet lifted off the ground and you laughed against Steve's mouth. When he finally put you down, he rested his forehead against yours. His hand found its way to yours and he held it gingerly.

"Can I pick you up after work?"

"There's a really nice diner down the street..."

Steve smiled and kissed you. "Okay, I'll be back around 5?"

You said yes and told him that Bucky was more than welcome to come along. "I owe him a pitcher of beer."

Not understanding, Steve agreed any way and headed out toward the door but turned when you called out to him. He asked if something was wrong but you just smiled at him. "I love you."

Seconds, took seconds for him to be at your side. He kissed you again and again, hands roaming your hair until a call came through the lab's intercom - you had a meeting in ten minutes. Steve resided and kissed you on the forehead, and he felt a tunnel of relief fill his lungs. He knew coming back home was the right thing to do, it felt in his heart and saw it in your eyes as he whispered that he loved you.

Oh, how much he loved you...not even the temptations of time could hold him back.

................

steve rogers tags:

@purple-mangos

want to be tagged? check out my taglist doc!

[skyahri]

There For You |Shota Aizawa X Reader| HC

Summary: Aizawa steps up after Oboro's death, but panics when things get a bit too real.

Warnings: TEEN PREGNANCY! AFAB reader. Set one year ahead for story purposes. Mentions of death. Implication of sex, but no actual smut.

- - - - -

You'd known Oboro your entire life. Your mother's were best friends and had planned their pregnancies, so you were only a few months apart.

You two were close as could be - playing, having sleepovers, and studying together always. When his quirk manifested and yours didn't, he made a promise to always protect you.

When high school came around and you were both accepted to UA (him under the hero course and you in general studies), he kissed you for the first time.

That kiss was just the beginning of a wonderful relationship. He was doting and loving, just as he'd always been, but the connection was deeper now.

In his time at UA, he made great friends, ones that accepted you as a part of the package deal. Your group was a match made in heaven. You were happy he had such a wonderful support system.

You remember how excited he was when he was accepted to the Purple Revolution Agency with Aizawa for his work study. You praised him for his hard work and celebrated that night. If you had known what would've come of it, you'd have begged him to take any other offer.

Shouta was the one to tell you. You'd come home from school to a house full of pros and officers, confused as to what happened. He quickly escorted you outside and explained the day's events to you.

The news of his death was absolutely gut-wrenching, especially since you'd only recently found out you were eight weeks pregnant.

At the time, you'd panicked, horrified of the social repercussions sure to come. But now? Now you were thankful to have something left from him.

"Oboro... asked me to take care of you. Both of you."

Shouta was there from then on. Not that he'd been lacking in presence beforehand, but now he was more dutiful.

He shut down any attempts you made to push him away, assuring you that any support and companionship he provided to you was of his own free will, and not because of any promise he'd made to Oboro before his death. He did make a promise, yes, but even if he hadn't, he'd still probably be here.

Hizashi and Nemuri helped as much as they could, but choosing to be front-line heroes complicated things more than Shouta's underground work.

Once the baby came, a beautiful little girl you'd named Kumori, Shouta's life felt a little less empty.

He'd been so preoccupied with finishing school, starting his career, and supporting you, that he hadn't allowed himself the space to cope with the loss of his best friend. He'd been well aware of the void Oboro had left, but never really paid much mind to it.

But now he felt like didn't need to. Like all the grief had resolved itself and he instantly jumped from denial to acceptance.

Kumori became his pride and joy. He spent all of his free time with you and her. Aside from night patrols and the occasional assignment, he didn't have much going on, making things all the easier for your makeshift family to function.

He took her to the park and played with her. They watched movies together and usually fell asleep halfway through. On days he was busy, he'd always make sure to check in with a text, something you always appreciated.

When she started to talk, her first words were of course 'dada' and directed at him. It stirred up something unsettling with him. He apologized profusely, not realizing that he had inadvertently stolen Oboro's spot in her life.

"Don't be silly, Shouta."

Such a simple response to such an insanely complex situation. He wasn't sure how to take that kind of response or the problem at hand in general, so he decided to take a step back from you two.

That night, when he went home after his patrol, he stayed home. You texted asking where he was and if he was okay, and that only made him spiral more.

What was he doing? Taking Oboro's spot in your life. Raising his child, spending the night with his girlfriend, and having dinner with his parents.

How pathetic.

He didn't go over the next night, or the one after that. Before he knew it, an entire week had passed and he hadn't so much as responded to your messages. He couldn't. Not with the dread and guilt he was feeling.

There was a knock at his door. He looked at the time and groaned; nearly six in the morning. He got up and looked through the peephole, relaxing when he saw Hizashi's bright yellow hair.

"What are you doing here?"

He pushed his way into Shouta's apartment.

"Y/N has been going crazy blowing up our phones. Nemuri and I have tried covering for you, but I think it's time you're honest with me."

Shouta wasn't sure why, but he unloaded onto Hizashi at that moment. He spilled everything uncontrollably in a long, incomprehensible rant. This completely caught Hizashi off guard. H wasn't expecting anything other than an argument to ensue if he was being honest.

Shouta told Hizashi everything. How he practically lived with you, how he raised your daughter, how he felt like he'd taken advantage of such a loss.

It took Hizashi a few minutes to let everything sink in. He was confused at first. The way you and Shouta spoke about your relationship made it seem like he had more of an uncle-type role in Kumori's life. He was surprised to find out he was so involved. Of course, Shouta always claimed to be busy, but he and Nemuri had assumed he was lying to get out of things.

Shouta gave him an expecting look after a few minutes with no response. Hizashi apologized, too caught up in his thoughts to realize he'd totally zoned out.

"I think Oboro would be more upset if he found out you'd abandoned his kid."

"I'm being serious, Mic."

"So am I."

They stared at each other for a moment.

"She thinks I'm her dad. What kind of piece of shit steals their friend's life after he dies, huh?"

"You're crazy if you think like that, dude. Would you prefer she be all alone? Or his kid grow up with out a dad? He asked you to take care of them for a reason."

"It just feels wrong."

A smug smile crept its way onto Hizashi's face.

"You love her, don't you? That's why it feels so wrong."

Aizawa looked at his friend like he was sick in the head.

"What are you on about? Don't be ridiculous."

But the more the thought about it the less ridiculous it sounded.

He loves his life. He loves you and your daughter, something he's well aware of, but now he's questioning what sort of love he held for you two.

He'd never tried to label it before, but now that he was trying to, he found any other type of love to be unfulfilling.

"You need to leave."

He pushed Hizashi out, not leaving any room for him to argue.

Shouta took a breath to calm himself down before grabbing his things and heading out as well.

He made it to your house in record time, relieved to see only your car in the driveway. He knocked on the door and waited patiently.

When you opened it and saw him, you quickly reached out and pulled him in for a hug. He returned the gesture, holding you tighter than he had before. After a moment, you pulled away, and promptly punched him square in the chest.

"Where the Hell have you been?!"

Just like he did with Hizashi, he told you everything. All the thoughts and feelings that had been eating at him this past week, the guilt and anxiety that plagued him, and what Hizashi had said.

"When Oboro told me to look after you, I don't think this is what he meant."

"Believe it or not, we actually talked about this before he died."

Shouta looked at you bewildered.

"Not this specifically, Shouta," you laughed, "He told me if he ever died, he would want me to continue living. I think he'd be happy for all of us."

Oboro knew there was significant risk in his line of work. He didn't expect to die so young, of course, but it's all the same. He would hate for you to never love again. To be all alone in the world or lose all ambition.

"Please, never let my death be the end of you."

His words always lingered in your head. It's why you never felt any type of way about Shouta's involvement in your and your daughter's lives. It made you happy, and that's all anyone could ask for.

"So... what does this mean for us?"

You weren't sure how he'd take the question. He didn't seem too content with whatever it was racing through his head.

Shouta leaned forward and kissed you. When you leaned in and responded, he grew more confident. He put his hands on your face and you bunched yours in his shirt. He pulled away and looked at you.

"I think he was right. I think... I do love you."

[rwrbficrecs]

September Faves

Enjoy these September recs from the team 🥰

Best Bar in The World by @pridepages (book-verse)

@heybuddy-drabbles: Well, I can now confirm that I'm 100% cerified a pridepages fan. The way she picks the themes of the original source and uses them in a different setting is just absolutely flawless, the same happens in Little Pages. It's gives you the same feelings of reading rwrb but also reading something new and different all at the same time.

My Brother’s Keeper by @indomitable-love (book-verse)

@janetical: Written in Philip’s POV, it tackles all the canon events in a frustrating yet heart-wrenching way. I knew what I was getting myself into when I noticed the POV, but I really did hate Philip less at the end of this fic. Everything is entailed in this little story: unresolved daddy issues and grief, internalized homophobia and Philip acknowledging Henry’s first time. It will make you cry, and it will end on a somewhat happy note.

For all the world to see by @everwitch-magiks (book-verse)

@suseagull04: This is a fic I couldn't put down! I'm always a fan of Henry being a writer in fics (so the description alone caught my eye), and the mix of cute moments with firstprince (and David) and plot twists had me hooked! It's also such an interesting look at the life of a writer and how difficult it is for them to have anonymity, which was especially interesting to me because of the writers strike in Hollywood.

he looks up grinning like the devil by @coffeecatsme (book-verse)

@read-and-write-: Also known as the frat boy AU, if you want some hurt/comfort that really does what it says on the tin. Don't be afraid because it is completely worth it!

written in the stars by @indomitable-love (book-verse)

@heybuddy-drabbles: This is just so beautiful. It's basically about Henry mostly. I didn't expect the "past" part would hit so hard but it did. I had to put it down a few times because it was truly heartbreaking but it has a happy ending. Don't be fooled like I was about it being all fluff. It's not, it's very nostalgic and they are apart for a long time but I still recommend it because, like I said, it's really beautiful.

Deep Blue by @myheartalivewrites (book-verse)

@thesleepyskipper: This was just a stunning piece of writing that does such a wonderful job of evoking images of the seaside cliffs, swimming in the cove and spending lazy days in the cottage above. At the same time, we get all that delicious pining and FWB to lovers fun within that beautiful setting. The spicy bits are beautifully done too! Highly recommend!

Rae of Sunshine! (series) by @three-drink-amy @indomitable-love @clottedcreamfudge @everwitch-magiks @the-amber-fox @villiageidiot @athousandrooms @welcometololaland @dustratcentral

@rmd-writes: I couldn't choose just one fic from this series gifted to me so I'm recommending them all, but every fic very much deserves the recommendation! Nine food-themed fics featuring everything from an exploration of Henry's life through food to chef!Henry to craft services trailer!Alex to matchmaker!Pez to the world's most cursed coffee habits from some of my favourite authors (and people)

What Do I Know? by @three-drink-amy (book-verse)

@babiemonk: The angst is so good I cried

Screw Your Courage to the Sticking Place (and forget macbeth is a fucking tragedy) by @celaestis1 (book-verse)

@babiemonk: So amazing, I didn’t want it to ever end. The angst was so good. The kidfic element was perfect. Possibly the perfect fic.

@dot524: I absolutely loved this one. Such a ride and I enjoyed every bit of it. I also really enjoyed the character of Alex’s daughter. Lots of complexity, great story arc.

God Save the Blessed American President Mom by @zipadeea (book-verse)

@babiemonk: This fucking broke me I cried for at least an entire day

@suseagull04: This is such an introspective look at Alex and Ellen's relationship (and Ellen as a character in general) and it's so good!

like father by rizcriz (movie-verse)

@indomitable-love: A really lovely and sensitively told conversation between Oscar & Henry, where Oscar catches Henry sneaking out of the lake house. This one got me right in my emotions. Very healing.

Bite Your Tongue On Purpose by Woodsarelovely (book-verse)

@darwinsfinchesx: Coffee Shop AU with a twist. This fic has some of the best dialogue I’ve ever read. It’s delightful, funny, and the characterization is on point. It leaves a big smile on my face every time I re-read it.

seldom what they seem by @jumpinginmuddypuddles (book-verse)

@gwiazdziarka: Sleeping beauty AU, where they don't need to fight with witches or dragons but there are... other problems. I love modern-day solutions to fairy-tale problems and here it actually just makes everything more complicated.

Mr. Bodypillow by @inexplicablymine (book-verse)

@gwiazdziarka: Yes, I recently recommended this one as wip, but now it's complete and I just need to bring it up again, because it deserves all the attention. Alex and Henry have the most amazing relationship here that goes outside of usual norms. It's also the warmest and the sweetest thing that I've read in a while. And it has great ace representation.

@read-and-write-: Is Ace!Alex very special to you? Do you want to feel like someone is wrapping you in a soft blanket? Then Mr. BodyPillow is for you! It's beautiful and will leave you feeling all warm and fuzzy inside

come pick me up by @smc-27 (book-verse)

@suseagull04: This fic will both make you laugh and give you all the feels. An awkward first interaction when Henry requests an Uber ride leads to an instant connection and sizzling chemistry, all leading to a conclusion that, although satisfying, will leave you wanting more of this verse!

the winner takes it all by @dumbpeachjuice (book-verse)

@myheartalivewrites: A Tour de France, rivals cyclists AU! Keeping a lot of the book dynamics, Alex and Henry find themselves competing against each other on the Tour — and then falling into bed. This has everything: thrilling sports passages (even though I haven’t ever watched the Tour in my life!), romantic tension, a great read.

Love-Love by @smc-27 (book-verse)

@myheartalivewrites: a tennis AU set at Wimbledon, which obviously holds a special place in RWRB hearts. Alex and Henry as rival tennis players who’ve hooked up once, and then end up as doubles partners. A quick read that left me all warmed up from the inside.

a flicker, a spark by acastle (book/movie-verse)

@daisymae-12: Wow I don’t have the words to truly convey how much I loved this fic. It diverges from canon at Kensington and the events that follow are so beautifully written. This fic made me cry over an OC, made me feel seen when I recognized parts of my own cultural background woven into a story, made my heart ache for everything Alex and Henry have been through and made me tear up some more. This is one of the most heart-wrenching canon-divergence fics I’ve ever read and I know I’m going to be thinking about it for a long time.

Baby, All At Once (This Is Enough) by @iboatedhere (book-verse)

@daisymae-12: This fic is such a lovely look into Alex & Henry’s life post-canon and had me absolutely melting from the softness of it all.

Will You Brie Mine? by @cha-melodius (book-verse)

@daisymae-12: A fic featuring cheese and Henry being the one to sell it, what’s not to love? This was such a sweet fic and I loved the interactions between them! @cha-melodius always writes such amazing fics, and this was no exception.

[forthechubbies]

Mommy Virgin

Hybrid!Alpha!Babydaddy!Ceo! JJK X Pregnant Chubby! Reader

Chapter 1

Christmas Dreams

Plant many and be fruitful

An idiotic quote your family stands by religiously-For generations, Big families run in our genes..and it always come up boys. Traditionally, Our family has a record for birthing only boys.

However, The winds of a change blew on a beautiful Saturday daybreak, welcoming a baby girl to the world. Maybe 'Welcomed' is far-fetched-

"That girl is going to be the end of our family." Our father exclaimed to your mother, already doubled over with grief-" Ever man, we set her up with her declares! My patients is suffering!" He huffed.

"Her innocence is our misery. She refuses them every time." Your mother added. "She will kill our bloodline at this rate."

Your father could do nothing but hold his weeping wife.

And where are you? On the steps, listening to every painful insult after the next. You didn't mean to be the way you are-it's just men-You couldn't finally grasp the appeal of men. Never as a teenage girl and never now.

Every 'Gentleman' your parents shove in your face always leads to the same demands. Barefooted and pregnant. In other words, not your cup of tea.

So you hatched a plan over three years, causing influential events to take place—'Influential' to your parents, An mirage to yourself.

The story goes, you met a handsome mystery man who swept you off your feet and demanded you stay in his care, getting you out of your parent's hair. In reality, You were the handsome stranger, secretly saved up and moved out.

You hated lying to your parents but detested how they treated you more.

Your scheme forced you to keep the image of this handsome stranger. Why can't we come to the wedding? Your 'fiance' values privacy, including pictures. Why can't we visit? He's a horrible germaphobe.

The list is endless.

Despite how solid your lie was, It all went to ruin following your parent's desire to be grandparents. The obsessive behavior continued for several days straight until the pressure became too much.

"I'm pregnant!" A foolish outburst you immediately regretted as it slipped past your lips. " We wanted it to be a surprise-"

The cheers blazed through your phone's speakers; your face formed a painfully cringe.

What have you done?

You've successfully given yourself a time limit for a decision of paramount importance, something that needs preparation and stable funds.

But yet Your shoes imprinted the carpet in the waiting area office, A sperm bank. You were given a catalog of...donaters; you shivered at the creeper gentleman pictures- you flipped through page after page by no one suited you.

Your heels clicked as your arrived at the front desk, waiting patiently for service before another catalog on the shelf caught your eye.

Trading this for that, You sat back down and explored the new faces. The book revolves around the Eastern hemisphere showing you the prettiest men to grace this green earth.

Chu Buyeon, A long haired military man.

His medical health is fantastic, and his face-he's gorgeous. Maybe him? Yes, his perfect. Somewhat satisfied, You stood to quickly- Shoot!

The thick catalog's binger finally gave way after decades of service, scattering the papers about the ghostly waiting room.

You weren't pleased until every paper was accounted for- Now that, that nightmare is over...

Crunch!

Oops, You missed one.

The paper limped in poor condition thanks to your carelessness. "Shoot!..Excuse me I- step on one of ..the..Jeon Jungkook."

You froze mid-confession to seize the moment to read his information. This? Mr. Jeon was the picture of health as well as looks to boot. Saying any gentleman in this book is just handsome should be seen as a federal offense..

"This is hard." You exhaled.

"You can take the book home-" An uninvited voice startled you off your feet, yet she continued unphased. " The most important decisions take time."

I bet she got that out of a fortune cookie. Ember, The one of the head nurses. Remember her; She actually plays a big role in this story.

Despite the generic quote, You took the odd nurse's offer.

..12:45pm..

They're both amazing.

You've been at this for hours on end; your eyes swapped between two pictures until you felt a headache.

Why is this so hard? I can't believe how difficult this is… He has cute eyes but his nose is adorable.

What the poor heroine fails to realize is the work of crafting a baby, especially without meeting the daddies men. In all honesty, both men were way out of your league; you couldn't physically imagine having a relationship, let alone bearing one's child.

Perhaps it's time for bed. You unwhined for bed, taking a small cup of hot chocolate to your room, not before getting distracted by your darling Christmas tree; this is your first Christmas on your own, and honesty, you loved it.

Despite your current problem, You watched the snow tuck outside in a soft white blanket-You loved the view so much you settled in the living room in a handmade fort with hours of kdramas for entertainment.

Thirty minutes in, Your blinks began lengthier each time until they closed.

A chilly breeze brushed through your clothes. You could have sworn you closed that window instead of your warm living. Your eyes fell on dry grass.

"Huh!?" Now, On your toes. I mean, high heels? You were in business attire...breath! Inhale and exhale...

Where am I? A field...looks like. Okay okay..What do you see? Grass..River...Man? Man! He can help me.

"Hi?...Hey..Hello..I seemed to be lost-"

"Yah!" A gentleman from behind you roared. "What are you doing !? You're in the dead zone! Run towards me!" The man was bolting straight ahead towards clueless you.

Deadzone? And I Haven't run since middle school.

A loud bam from the right knocked you off your feet. Your so-called Savior fired at you and is re-aiming to a clean shot.

The next thing you know, your nose is shoved against sweaty yet sweet-smelling skin. No longer on your own two feet, you were cradled like a newborn, gripping your actual savior's ivory shirt.

You squeezed his bulky shoulders. "There's two now!"

"Fuck! I forgot my gun at camp." Another bam blasted from behind him. This time grazing his side your realize he did it on purpose...It would have hit you.

" Are you okay?!!" You got a groan as a answer, but his strong arms stayed stable until you reached the other side. The gunshots creased after crossing a certain point.

Sticky strains of his hair stuck to his forehead. Your breathing heavier than he is - "You must be cold? Yeah." His breath puffed in the mind-numbing air. "Excuse me." You were shortly forced into his arms for security. "I don't want to drop you." He explained. Yet you didn't find it necessary to be squished against his hard body.  

Count to 10-Wait, why?! I don't know anything to take your mind off his...rippling abs.. that I can feel through his shirt..and biceps the size of my skull, not to mention he hasn't put me down since he saved me-Ahem...

1.

You silently agreed and remained silent until "My name is Chu Buyeon, by the way." He chuckled at your shocked expression. "Wa?..Why that face? You're cute."

Your cheeks warmed at his compliment. 5!

"Chu Buyeeeeon! Chuuuuu Buyeonnnnn!" Worried voices erupted through the base set.

"Shit. Im screwed!" He whispered, finally putting you down for the first time. " Stay out of sight," Buyeon commanded, tying back his long black hair in a bun. " I will be right back and-"He's leaving me here-oh, my good god, His back muscles. 4! No, wait, I passed four, right?

"You're bleeding!" Your cute squeak made him grin.

"It's a scrape. I will be fine; I've been shot several times." He threw your worries over his shoulder. "As I said, Stay out of sight, Kitten."

10! 10! He's-I can't 

And like that, he disappeared into the camp to return several minutes later with a thick blanket.

"I was worried-!" You gasped, being off the ground once again. Do I even weigh anything?

Buyeon wrapped the blanket around your body before lifting you into his arms. "They saw me. Their right behind me. You got to hide." He exclaimed in short breaths.

You pulled the blanket to at least cover his arms. "What about you?"

"I'm fine. I've trained in worse temperatures." Buyeon stressed, tugging the blanket to cover any revealing skin on you. "You, on the other hand, is a different story entirely." He chuckled.

" Chu Buyeon! Your out past curfew. If you were smart, you would get your ass here, now! " The sergeant, out of all people to get busted by Buyeon, can't catch a break tonight. "Private!Chu! Buyeon! Have you gone berserk, Son?!" His heavy boots demolished the twigs and dirt as he stomped closer. "What's your malfunction !"

Buyeon dips his lips beside your ear. "Play dead." feeling your body instantly go limp, He stands, cradling your body. "An Unconscious civilian was found in the dead zone, Sir! "

"Where's your clothes?" The sergeant's voice changed to that of an anxious father. " It's four degrees out here..Give me her and put on actual clothes." You were snatched away to be tossed over the sergeant's shoulder.

...

Why haven't I woken up yet?

"Why were you out!?"

"I couldn't sleep, so I went for a jog, sir!"

"A jog, Huh? And coincidentally, you were there in the nick o f time..Why were you so close to the dead zone anyway? By Yourself, I may add!" The sergeant delivered a clean swipe upside Buyeon's head. "I only have one son!"

"Ais-" He soothed the sore spot. "She could have died if I didn't help her." Buyeon maneuvered around his father's fearful hands to seek refuge by your side.

He let out a sigh in response. "Just be more careful..at least carry your gun for fucksakes!" His father gazes at another problem, You. "You can wake up, missy. You're not fooling anyone. "

You immediately opened your eyes and sat up, bowing your head. "Im sorry for causing so much trouble."

"I'm happy you're alive to apologize. It's a pleasure meeting you, but round call is in -" He flashed his old wristwatch. "3 hours and 15 minutes...so we all should hit the hay." His father kissed your hand, something Buyeon cringed at. "You will sleep in my office-I will have everything set up."

He also added. "I hope you don't mind me saying, but you are gorgeous...I see why my son can't keep his hands to himself." He took note of Buyeon's arms that managed to snake their way around your body to keep near him.

He was busted for the second time tonight. Buyeon fought for his father to believe the only reason he was keeping you close was to share his body heat.

Despite, The blanket is already solving your cold issue.

Chu Buyeon🥰