#I am simply sad at this stage

[ohimsummer]

I am very envious of ppl who can just jump in their mutual’s dms for the first time and Talk To Them and not have that lingering thought in the back of their mind that they are being Annoying and Unlikeable :<<

[sunshineandviolets]

Introducing Shark Tooth, a future rock star in the making. Is known to be rather quiet and stoic , with that blank stare that can make others uneasy. Unfortunately it seems she is still in love with her ex and well, be getting too close and comfortable around her own idol.

Meera Achari (she/her) // now currently residing in Infamous IF !!!

[other mcs: Shanaya / Rahul / Bianca ]

[ Template here ]

[222col]

Sub boyfriend Tennis player Art who's playing in the Olympics and who's not allowed to touch you or touch himself during the period of games and you promising him the best and the most unforgettable sex after he wins the gold medal as a motivation so he's been winning game after game so now he reached the final and all he think about is the reward you promised him.

cont: 'He either ends up winning the game and him feeling ecstatic not because he won the gold medal but because he will finally get to touch you and feel you or he loses the match and you still gave him what he wanted but he's feeling deeply sad and crying during sex and constantly apologizing because he disappointed you and you're like reassuring him.' | 18+

"baby it's only for a few weeks." you reassure your boyfriend as he places the final things in his suitcase. he pouts up at you, readying himself for his time in the olympic village. "i'll be at all your matches, cheering you on, ready to give you your reward when you get that gold medal."

art had been instructed that during his time at the olympics, there was strictly no sexual activity allowed. he'd be staying at the olympic village while you stayed mere miles away in a hotel somewhere in paris. his coach reminded him that any sexual activity was strictly forbidden, including jerking off.

his only saving grace was the promise you made him, the best sex of his life once he won gold. you knew he was capable, he'd worked so hard to get to this stage of his life. he worked his way through the competition, facetiming you every night and exploring the city with you whenever he got a chance. if he didn't already want to win the medal, when he reached the final, all he could think about was the gold circle hanging around his neck as you rode him for hours.

his competitor is a seasoned pro, art knew he still had a chance, despite being younger than his opponent. entering the court, his eyes searching for you, seeing you in the stands, a usa tennis shirt tight to your body. you lift your sign to the air, cheering for your blonde haired boy as he walked over to his seat court-side. he loves how much you support him, seeing his name on your handmade sign makes his heart swell. he stretches and gets into position.

art wins the first set. "lets go, baby!" he hears your cheers as he collects his breath, cheesing from ear to ear. he's pushing through, losing the second set. trying to stay calm, but all he can think about is his reward slipping from his grip. he looks to you for reassurance, your sign still in the air, still chanting his name.

the final set is hard, his competitor forcing him to run wild on the court. he can feel the loss coming closer, ready to slap him around the face. his racket is slammed into the floor, his opponent jumping for joy. he slumps to the ground, racket thrown across the court. he's so disappointed, he's let you down. his opposition comes over, pulling him up to his feet, shaking his hand. art walks straight over to you after the niceties. reaching down over the barrier to hold his head in your hands. "i am so proud of you, art donaldson." he looks up to you through his lashes, tears welling up in his eyes. leaning over to kiss his forehead. "now go get that silver medal," he's on his tip toes to lean up and hug you tightly. "i can't wait to give you your reward as it hangs around your neck." whispering into his ear as his arms engulf you into him.

"but i didn't win," he's letting you go, his eyebrows turning up as he holds back his pout. your hands move back to his face, cupping his cheek, smiling so sweetly down to him. "baby, you played so so well, and out of all the players here, you got to the final, you got a medal, a silver medal!" kissing his forehead again, he just simply nods to you. you're grinning so wide at him, the only thing making him feel better about losing. art receives his medal on the podium, his elder competitor patting his back as the pictures are snapped. "you did good, kid."

you and art take a stroll back to your hotel, his medal hanging around his neck as you walk hand in hand. "baby i really am so proud of you." you tell him, bringing his hand up to your mouth to gently place a kiss on his fingers. "but i let you down." he grumbles as you both enter the elevator in your hotel. grabbing his face you pull him down to kiss you, his arms looping around your waist. "no you didn't, my love, you did so well, played so well." his eyes are welling up again as the two of you enter your hotel room. he slumps onto your bed, head resting against the headboard, holding his silver medal. placing your sign in the corner of the room, you watch him go to remove the medal from his neck. "don't you dare."

he's pouting, he wants you so bad, but he didn't win. he doesn't deserve the reward you promised if he won. you climb onto his lap, pulling his shirt over his head, the medal landing back on his chest. "i am so proud of you." you tell him between kisses placed on his stomach, moving your way up to his neck. tears are slowly falling from his eyes as you kiss his lips, he groans into your mouth as you grind against him. "i don't deserve it." he tells you as you shuffle down his body, pulling his shorts down as you go. "shhh, let me make you feel better." placing hot kisses to his thighs, looking up to him as his tears keep falling. pulling down his briefs, exposing his long aching cock. you kiss all the way up his length, swiping your tongue over the tip. "mmm, i'm sorry baby, i didn't want to let you down." his eyes are closed, stroking your hair as you slip his cock into your mouth. licking and sucking him gently, before his hips buck up, forcing him to the back of your throat. you giggle against him as spit falls from the corner of your mouth, moving your hand to play with his balls.

"i wasn't good enough, ugh- fuck" he mumbles apologies and pulls your head off his length. you lock eyes with him, slipping your shorts down your legs and discarding your tennis shirt across the room. climbing onto his lap once more. your wetness gliding over his cock. "you don't want your reward baby?" your arms around his neck, pulling your bodies together as you keep sliding over him. "i do, fuck- shit, baby i do, but i didn't-" he's cut off by you sliding down on his cock. "shh, let me look after you." the moan he makes is sinful, the feeling of your pussy wrapped around his cock for the first time in weeks is almost too much for him. his hands grasp hold of your ass, as you grind against him. your bodies move together in unison as his medal lifts up and down against his chest.

placing your feet down on the bed next to his thighs, bouncing up and down on his member, his hands moving to your hips to help your movement. he's crying, either from the loss or the sensation he's missed so deeply. "my good boy, bringing home a medal for me." placing kisses against his jaw as the room fills with the sound of skin slapping and your moans blending together as one. "i'm so sorry baby i- oh fuck," his words falling out his mouth as you move his face into your chest. his lips wrapping around your nipple, sucking and teething as you bounce faster on top of him.

"i'm gonna come," he groans against your chest, pulling you tighter to him. "i know baby, come for me, let me feel my special boy fill me up." his hips buck up, pushing you down onto him as he finishes inside of you. "shit, fuck, oh my god baby," he breathes into your chest. "that's my good boy." your bodies slump against each other, keeping him inside of you. kissing away the remaining tears on his cheeks.

"i really am sorry, baby, i didn't want to let you down." he tells you again, cupping his face in your hands. "art, you did not let me down. i'm more proud of you right now than i ever have been." placing a wet kiss against his lips. "think about how much better it'll feel when you win gold in a few years." you tell him, forehead to forehead, feeling him nod against you. "you're right baby," he finally smiles up to you, kissing your nose. "let's go get you cleaned up, pretty boy."

[goldsainz]

❝ SO LONG, MONACO ❞

MASTERLIST!

pairing . . . charles leclerc x reader

◦∘｡ﾟ. warnings . . . use of y/n (once, i think), cursing, a whole load of angst, charles is an asshole, rushed ending, barely proofread.

◦∘｡ﾟ. summary . . . you love monaco, but it has run its course just like your relationship has.

◦∘｡ﾟ. note . . . i am obsessed with ttpd, i don’t care what anyone has to say, it was a masterpiece and i will not take criticism about it. this is based on so long, london i really recommend listening to this while reading, or just listening to it in general if you need a good cry. i have been writing this for months now, so i hope you guys like it and please dont mind the ending it was the best i could do 😔💙

[ word count: 3,4k ]

You walked through the streets of Monaco, mystified by how bright the city looked even in the night. The street lights were enchanting to witness, and the chatter of people made you appreciate the small country even more. So private, yet so lively, like a hidden spot you had loved so much you just had to make it your home. 

The walk to Charles’ apartment is more calming than expected, you’ve come to terms with the fact that you’ve been pulling at a thread that is almost undone. No matter how hard you tried, there was no use in pulling him tighter when he had already pulled out of the relationship.

You were, in all honesty, tired. 

You swore your back almost hurt from all the efforts you made to keep him with you. It’s like you both had settled for conformity, for the monotony of not bothering to do anything. You were together for the sole sake of how harder it would be to separate, but not because of the love you had for the other, simply because of the aftermath of breaking up after 6 years of relationship. Moving out, telling your friends and family, the whole world scrutinizing what went down when really nothing had gone down. There was nothing that could go down, to begin with. 

Your relationship had become more of a commodity, one that was draining you while your boyfriend continued his life like nothing was going on. Maybe that was your problem, you simply cared too much. 

And so you stopped trying to make him laugh. Stopped making those small efforts that had amounted to hundreds of gestures that went unnoticed by him. Maybe you were selfish for that, for wanting his undivided attention to things that weren’t that great. After all, he had his own things to wallow over, things that were simply greater than you.

You tried to blame Ferrari. Ferrari that always was the topic of conversation. “Can you believe they made pit so late?” Yes, I can. “Do you think I’m putting to much faith in the team?” Yes, you are. You don’t tell Charles all the things you should, you share his sadness and give him a shoulder to cry on, just to receive that small amount of affection. 

His sadness gives you the taste of what once was and now isn’t. You can’t find in yourself to blame him for becoming dependent on Ferrari, because haven’t you become the same way for him?

It isn’t long before your walk is over, and you have to face the moment you want to dread, but instead there is relief that surges in your heart. A feeling you resent but equally embrace. 

You step into the elevator, pressing the button for his apartment that you wonder when you decided to let everything go on for as long as it did. That is something you incriminate Charles for. Did he really think you’d be willing to stand in the rain for him forever? Eternally condemned to wallow his sadness, were you supposed to be sad for as long as he was? And for a while you did, you shared his sadness but you didn’t have much more in you to give him. There was only so much pity you could feel, so much empathy you were willing to subject yourself to. 

The elevator rings, a sign that you should get off and take whatever is yours and get away from Monaco.

You put the key in the keyhole, and enter what once was your home and now looks almost like a staged apartment, ready to be shown off and sold to the highest bidder. It feels eerie, what once was so familiar is now a distant memory you’re ready to get over.

Most of the boxes are all closed and ready to be sent away, with a few things left in shelves and drawers. You remember calling your family and asking if you could stay with them a few days, you felt ashamed at how you left everything behind just to come back to it so unexpectedly. 

“Chérie, you don’t have to leave. I can stay with Joris until you find your own place.” no more ma chérie, just chérie. It seemed you’d both unconsciously already made the graves for your relationship. 

“This is your place, Charles. I’m not going to kick you out of it.” you smoothly respond, trying to focus on taking whatever is left on the shelf by the TV. 

Your hand brushes against an old photo of the two of you. His hands around your waist, you looking up at him with a huge smile on your face, with Monaco as the landscape behind you. 

“This was our place, I don’t even—” he stops himself, like it pains him to say whatever is on his mind, resigned he sighs and changes his answer, “I might have to sell this, it’s too big for just me anyway.” 

The implication of his words would have sent you down a spiral a few months ago, now you don’t even reminisce on the what-if.

“Either way, I’ve already arranged a place to stay. I really don’t want to inconvenience you, this is your home not mine.” you say, and you watch as his jaw clenches and his eyes dim, but it is too late now to go back. You’re both too far gone. 

“Okay, then.” he sighs, and although you’ve made peace with the end of your relationship you want him to fight for you. It is his nonchalant way of going about life that makes you mad, and what sealed the fate of whatever remains of your relationship were left.

You’ve fought so hard and for so long, you want to make him feel what you felt. Retribution comes to you in his resignation, and yet it is simply not enough for your greedy, broken heart.

It pisses you off how so much of your youth he got to witness, how he got all the special moments of your life and now you cannot even recognise the girl you once were. All those dreams, all that naïveté, has long since died and is now buried in Monaco.

“It’s late and I’m really tired, so tomorrow morning I’ll have them pick up and ship off my things.” 

“Where are you staying?” he tries to be casual, tries to hide the desperation in his voice, but fails to do so because you know him too well. He fears you know him better than anyone ever has. 

“A hotel nearby,” you easily answer, 

Don’t let me go.

A beat passes, he opens his mouth and closes it shortly after, like he’s not sure what to say or how to act.

Please, don’t let me go. 

“Do you need me to take you there?”

“No, I’m okay, it’s a short walk from here.”

And so you put away the few things you were holding, brushing past him like he’s a stranger in the street. You’ve seemingly packed up your whole life in a few boxes, and you feel oddly calm about it. Hopeful about the future, all resentment you could have has turned into motivation. 

You seal the last open box, and it’s like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. There are no scores to settle, no need for revenge, this chapter of your life has been sealed and you are ready to continue with whatever the story of your life has prepared for you.

“Text me when you get to the hotel, yes?” you pause at his words, and a part of you wants to curse him out for being the way he is, because despite everything he is a kind man. You just wish he could've been as kind to the old you as he is to the current you. And you wonder why you're given all this kindness, when you have both your feet out the door and every single remainder of your love has been tucked away. It is not fair, but nothing really is when it comes to love.

“Sure,” you say as you nod, a small smile gracing your face, though you're sure it looks close to a grimace. 

You walk out of the apartment, leaving your copy of the keys on the table next to the door. As it closes, you let out a sigh and go out the same you came in, calm and collected. With the broken, bloody pieces of your heart in his hands and you with the same blue heart of his you know so well.

You don’t text Charles when you make it to the hotel. 

You twist and turn in your bedsheets, not being able to sleep once again. You can't remember the last time you had a good night's sleep. And so you do what you've been doing for months, you go over every step and stone of your relationship.

Although sleep doesn’t consume you, the memories do. Those unforgiving, wretched memories about the downfall of your relationship. As you lie awake, the weight of your thoughts presses down on you, each recollection sharper and more painful than the last. 

You reminisce on the brighter days, filled with laughter and pure love, where every touch was like electricity on your skin and every word a promise of a future together. You recall all those moments you fought to make him laugh, to bring back the warmth that had once been effortless. But those bright memories are quickly overshadowed by the darker ones— the fights that grew more frequent, the silences that stretched longer, the love that slowly turned to resentment. 

Every detail is vivid in your mind— he look in his eyes as he drifted away, the chill that settled in your bones each night he didn't fall asleep beside you. You replay the conversations, the accusations, the desperate attempts to salvage whatever was left. But despite your efforts, the spirit of the relationship was long gone, leaving behind a shell of what once was.

As the memories flood back, you feel the anger and sadness welling up inside you. You gave so much of yourself, your youth, your energy, only to be left with the empty shell of a broken dream. You think about how he swore that he loved you, yet the proof was never there. 

You recall that last fight, by then the stitches of your relationship had come undone, the fabric of your shared experience torn beyond repair. There was nothing left to cling onto, nothing more than your delusion and the memories you held close to your heart. 

“Mon amour, why did you stay awake? You know how long I take at the factory.” he whispers, almost cooing at you but also filled with exhaustion. Like you being awake is another burden you're placing on him, now that he has to deal with your awakened mind. 

“Couldn’t fall asleep, I guess.” you answer, playing with the ends of your hair, not daring to look at him. 

You watch as he places his stuff on the ground, taking off his shirt and entering the bathroom to wash his face and prepare for sleep. It is quite a shame you have no intentions of sleeping, or to let the misery you're living through go on.

“I’ll join you in just a moment,” he calls out from the bathroom, his voice muffled from the ajar door between you.

“Okay,” is all you come up with, all you can muster to respond.

The silence in the apartment grew heavy. The ticking of the clock on the wall seemed to echo through the room, each second stretching out into eternity. 

As you listened to the sound of water running, you traced patterns on the bedsheets with trembling hands. You couldn’t shake the feeling of suffocation, of being trapped in a life that wasn’t quite yours. The dreams you once nurtured seemed distant, obscured by the everyday struggles and compromises.

When Charles emerged from the bathroom, the lines of fatigue etched deeper into his face. His eyes met yours briefly before he turned away, pulling a worn t-shirt and slipping under the covers beside her. You could feel the warmth radiating from his body, yet you could see the coldness that he seemed to reserve especially for you. He made no effort to kiss you, to hold you, those miniscule actions were like finding gold nowadays.

It was now or never, you had decided. You had gained courage all day to finally speak your mind, the least he could do is listen and try to fight for you. For the remains of your love that hadn’t yet dusted away.

“You know,” you begin tentatively, your voice almost shaky with emotion, “it feels like we’re drifting apart. I miss us, Charles.”

He turned to you sharply, eyes flashing with something like shock and annoyance. “I’m tired, Y/N. Can’t we talk about this tomorrow?”

“But we never talk about it!” you exclaimed, frustration boiling over. “Every day, it’s the same thing. You come home late, exhausted, and we pretend everything’s okay. But it's not okay! It hasn’t been for a long time, and I need more than this.”

He sighs heavily, rolling onto his back and staring up at the ceiling. “I’m doing the best I can.”

“Sure you are,” you retort back, voice tinged with bitterness. You knew he would dismiss your feelings, but it still stung.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“I’m always second, Charles.” you retort, “I stay awake each night wondering if you still care, if there is even some part of you that misses me like I miss you.”

“You always find something to complain about, don’t you?” he turns to you with his eyes narrowed, “You know how much I’m dealing with Ferrari, I thought you’d have some empathy for me, at least.”

“I’m not complaining, Charles. I’m trying to talk to you!” your frustration has now reached its peak, “I miss us. I miss the days when we actually talked, when you actually listened.”

“I’m exhausted,” he says, ignoring your words once more. “Do you think this lifestyle pays for itself? Because, news flash, it doesn’t. You signed up for this, don’t put this on me now.”

“Do you even hear yourself?” you ask, resigned to your situation and the emotions that have overtaken you, “You're never here, Charles. I feel like I’m living with a stranger instead of the man I fell in love with.”

“Well, maybe if you didn't make everything so difficult,” he snapped, his patience wearing thin. He doesn't dare to look at you, he can't bear to see the expression on your face.

You feel tears stinging in your eyes, a mix of anger and hurt washing over you. “I’m not making things difficult. I’m asking for us to work on our relationship, to make time for each other.”

“I don’t have time,” Charles shot back, his voice cold and distant. “This is the life we have now. Deal with it.”

“Is this really what you want?” you demand, your voice rising. “A relationship where we just coexist, where we’re barely holding on?”

He turns away from you again, his silence cuts deeper than any words ever could. You feel the despair, the realizations sinking in that your relationship might be beyond repair.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you whisper, voice cracking with emotion.

“Then what do you expect me to do?” he retorted, his frustration matching yours.

“I expect you to fight for us, Charles!” you exclaimed, a tear slipping down your cheek. “I expect you to care enough to try.”

He doesn’t respond, the silence a stark reminder of how far you had both drifted apart. You wiped your tears away, feeling the weight of your crumbling relationship pressing down on your chest.

“If you can’t even talk to me, then maybe we’re already done.” you say quietly, the finality of your words hanging in the air.

He doesn’t protest, doesn’t reach out to you. You turned away from him, curling up on your side of the bed, feeling the emptiness of your once vibrant love surrounding you. As you stared into the darkness, you wondered if you had reached the end, if this was all the closure you would get.

As you laid there, enveloped in the silence that now seemed thicker than ever, you realised that something inside you had shifted irreversibly. The pain of his indifference cut deep, but so did the clarity that you couldn’t continue living forever like this, forever under the blue of his days.

The weight of unspoken words hung heavy in the air, you couldn’t bear it any longer. With a shaky breath, you gathered your resolve and spoke softly into the darkness, voice trembling with both sadness and determination.

“I think… I need some time,” you began, your words tentative yet resolute. “Time to figure out what I want and what’s best for me.”

He turned to you then, his eyes reflecting a mixture of surprise and resignation. “What are you saying?”

You struggled to find the right words. “I’m saying… I’m saying that I’m done, Charles. I can’t keep pretending that everything is okay when it’s not. I deserve more than this.” 

His expression hardened, a flicker of frustrations crossing his face. “So that’s it? You’re just giving up?”

“I’m not giving up,” you shot back, “I’ve been fighting for us for so long, but you… you're not even here, I can’t keep begging for your attention, for your love.”

Charles doesn't respond immediately, his silence echoing loudly in the room. You felt a wave of sorrow wash over you as you realized that your love had turned into a battlefield of neglect and misunderstanding.

“I thought we could fix this,” he finally murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Maybe we could have,” your heart breaks with every word you utter. “But it’s too late now, I’m exhausted, Charles. I’m exhausted from trying to pretend like you care and for trying to fix something beyond repair.”

He sits up at your words, finally looking at you, the weight of your failed relationship heavy in his eyes. “I’m sorry, mon ange. I never meant for it to end like this.”

“Neither did I,” you replied softly, “But I can’t keep living like this. I deserve happiness. We both do.” he reached out to touch your hand, but you gently pulled away, the gesture feeling hollow now.

You sat there in silence, you knew that walking away would be the hardest thing you had ever done, but you also knew it was the only way forward.

Without another word, you stood up from the bed. Looking at him, the man you loved with all your heart but who had drifted away from you.

“I’m sleeping on the couch,” you tell Charles, and he doesn’t fight you, just wordlessly nods and longingly looks at you as you step away and into your living room.

You stood at the window of the hotel room, staring out at the city that had been your home for so long. The cobblestone streets, the azure waters, and the gentle hum of luxury. This place, once your sanctuary, now felt like a prison of memories that had soured with time. A reminder of a love that couldn't withstand the weight of reality.

Outside, the familiar sights and sounds of Monaco stirred memories that tugged at your heart— lazy afternoons by the beach, candlelit dinners overlooking the harbour, stolen kisses beneath the starlit sky.

But today, as the plane ticket lay on the table beside your suitcase, you knew it was time to leave Monaco behind. Despite the love you once felt for this place, you couldn’t ignore the ache in your chest, the realisation that your time here had run its course.

As you walked out of the hotel and down the winding cobblestone streets towards the waiting car you had called, you allowed a tear to trickle down your cheek because despite everything you really fucking loved Monaco. For so, so long.

But you’ll find somewhere new.

[beenbaanbuun]

hangover w/ jung wooyoung

i am being destroyed by a hangover currently so have this tiny little thing i wrote to make me feel better 🙂‍↕️

——————————————————————————-

“oh,” wooyoung just stands there in the doorway, one hand holding your door open and the other resting gently on his hip. whatever he was expecting to see, it wasn’t this. “my, my! you really are rotting away today, aren’t you?”

you grumble something incoherent from inside your cocoon of quilts, tugging it tighter around your face until your your nose and eyes are on show. it’s warm in there, and that warmth is your only protection from the cold, sad, terrible world outside. the one that wooyoung is so graciously letting in though your bedroom door. if you had the effort to stand, you’d pull him inside, but at this moment in time, you barely have the effort to swipe aside the hair that hangs over your eyes.

“shut up and get in here,” he rolls his eyes at your demand, but complies nonetheless. the door slams, locking the real world outside of your bedroom once more. it’s better that way, you tell yourself, the real world is too cruel and bitter for you to handle right now.

wooyoung takes a few cautious steps across the room, careful to avoid the neat piles of rejected outfits from the night prior. he spots a few familiar items, humming as he sees his favourite top that you wear screwed up and in a limp pile by the foot of the bed. he would’ve liked to have seen you in it last night, finding the way it hugs your chest absolutely mesmerising. the top you wore instead was pretty, sure, but that one? it’s a wet dream come true.

“scooch,” he insists as he parks himself on edge the mattress. you shuffle over a few inches to give him just enough space to lie down. he’ll of course, have to be presses up against you to even begin to feel like he isn’t about to fall off, but maybe that’s all part of your plan. “and give me some quilt! we can’t cuddle properly unless we’re both snug!” as he wraps his arms around your form, forcing a thigh between your own to tangle your legs together, you open your cocoon just wide enough for him to slip inside. he hums gratefully as he enters the warm chamber you’ve created.

“you have far too many clothes on,” you whisper as you slip a hand beneath his hoodie. there’s zero ulterior motives other than the need to be close to him; a motive that is severely hindered when wooyoung seems to have dressed himself for winter. you don’t press the issue, though, simply resting your hand flat against his spine and waiting for him to decide whether to be evil and deprive you of his flesh against yours or not.

“and you have nothing on,” he states the obvious, “i’m sure i dressed your drunk little ass in a hoodie before i left last night,” a finger trails it’s way up the naked curve of your back and you can’t help but shiver. “i told you to take your makeup off too but i guess you were staging a rebellion against me or something?”

you squeeze him tighter, hoping it’ll distract him from teasing you about your drunken stubbornness. knowing wooyoung, nothing will stop him from running his mouth, but you can try! fortune favours the bold, and there’s nothing more bold than trying to stun your boyfriend into silence with a bone-crushingly tight hug and a dream.

he chuckles softly at your behaviour and for a moment, you think it might have worked. as he takes a finger and pushes that one piece of hair away from your face, you’re sure that nothing but fluff and softness will fall from his lips. it’s worked—

“you’re cute when you’re all hungover and messy,” nevermind, “we should drink together more often just so i can see you all grumpy and irritable the next morning,” he presses a wet kiss against your forehead, but you’re far too lazy to wipe it away, “the smeared makeup really adds to how adorable you are, by the way.”

“wooyoung!”

[st7rnsangels]

— rumours put to rest. chris sturniolo | versus tour

sypnosis. with all the girls flirting and complimenting with y/n’s famous boyfriend, chris sturniolo, she begins to feel self conscious of if she actually deserves this mini-celebrity she caught herself, especially with their relationship being a secret. bf!chris realized this and decided to put the rumours to rest once and for all.

warnings. flangst? self-consciousness, crying / comfort, fem!reader, that’s really all.

a/n. not sure where this inspiration came from but i’m feeling sappy today. also first post!!!!! like and reblog to support your favourite writers<3333

“ the need to be the best before the need to rest .. “

this was it; the versus tour was finally here, and my boyfriend was going on stage in front of hundreds of people.

a lot of girls found him attractive, that i knew was inevitable. but i could never get rid of this sickly feeling.

while he was out there, being admired by all these pre-teen girls, i was sat inside the trailer watching through a live-camera.

i wanted to be out there. i wanted to be the one admiring him.. he is my boyfriend of six months, after all.

and don’t get me wrong — chris is an amazing boyfriend, and i couldn’t have asked for a better soulmate to be paired with, but i was sick of being a secret.

i knew staying secret was the better choice, both for him and for me. i didn’t like the spotlight, and i didn’t want to deal with the rude comments by jealous girls, and he simply wasn’t ready to reveal our relationship yet.

i understood it, all of it.

yet, i couldn’t help but feel horrible about the situation i put myself in.

i watched as the girl brought on stage to be on his team was a little overly touchy, grabbing his arm, talking to him.

it was all in good-heart, i knew that, yet.. i still felt that twinge of my heart at every touch or glance or words spoken between them, telling me that it should be me on that stage making him laugh under his breath.

it hurt. my heart hurt from the guilt and sadness of being remained a secret, and i didn’t like it. at all.

i quickly wiped the tear from my cheek as i tried to remain positive seeing my boyfriend happy, and smiling, but it was hard with the constant flow of tears from my eyes that just didn’t seem to stop.

shit. why am i crying?

a voice is spoken from my phone, “alright, guys, we have to get going, but thank you so much for coming, it was a blast tonight!” nick said in the mic, turning to his brothers to signify it was time to go.

“awwww!” the crowd erupts.

“thank you guys!” matt’s distant voice says to the mic as he grabs his jacket and moves toward the exit.

chris waves goodbye to his parter that was brought onto the stage, giving her a quick smile and waving to the crowd as he followed his brother.

fuck. why did that hurt so bad? it shouldn’t, really.

i shut my phone off, tossing it across the tiny tour bed, and curled into myself. i brushed my tears away, running fingers through my hair.

it was all lighthearted, that’s what i should be thinking.

but the girl he was with was so beautiful. the kind of beautiful that makes your breath stop and your head feel dizzy.

looking at myself in the mirror across from the bed, i sigh.

chris should be with that kind of girl: effortlessly pretty, good smile, bubbly personality.. yet, i was the opposite. he clicked with her, because that was his match — the same loudness, eagerness, excitement and energy, she should be his type of match.

before i can spiral into my thoughts any longer, the door to the tour bus opens.

“oh my god, i’m spent.” nick huffs, placing his wallet and phone on the small table and falling against the couch.

“tell me about it, all day travelling and then a three hour show? i’m exhausted.” matt says, dropping his keys and jacket against the kitchen counter.

realizing they had already made their way to the bus, i quickly wipe my tears.

“hey, y/n.” nick waves, and i peek my head out, flashing the best smile i could.

“hi, nick.” i say back, huffing at the small croack in my voice.

and then, there was chris.

i watch as he walks over to me, smile on his face as he grabs my cheeks and kisses my forehead. “hi, baby.” he says, pulling away to look at my face.

and when his eyes land on my puffy eyes, tear stained cheeks, his brows furrow.

“are you.. okay?” he whispers, quickly glancing to nick and matt who shrug their shoulders. he lets go of my face, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear.

“yeah, um, i’m — i’m fine.” i sniff, wiping my tears, “just missing home.”

his eyes run over my face, almost as if inspecting me.

he leans closer, whispering. “do you wanna go outside? so we can talk.”

i glance toward nick and matt, pretending not to be listening, yet they were horrible at hiding their curiosity.

looking back to chris, i nod. he gives me a smile, lending out his hand which i take. the warmth of his hand seeps into my palm, giving me almost instant comfort he seems to always be able to give me.

he leads me toward the door, making a silent, quick gesture and muttering for matt to move his ass, which he does.

and as soon as that door opens, and i take a step outside, i feel instantly calmed down. i realized now that i had spent basically the last twelve hours inside that trailer.

chris squeezes my hand as we walk down the road, listening to the soft sounds of the forest and buzzing streets of the city ahead of us.

and as we found a place against a wall, he sighs and stops, leaning against it.

“so.. what’s wrong?” he says, letting go of my hand, wiping a small tear that i hadn’t realized ran down my cheek.

“i dunno, i just —.. i think i’m overreacting, it’s nothing to really—“

“baby.” chris cuts my off, resting a hand on my cheek, “it’s just me,” he tucks my hair behind my ear, “talk to me.”

i bite my lip. ponder his words.

“that girl you were partnered with today on stage?” i offer.

“what about her?” he asks.

“it’s just.. i dunno.” i look to my hands, picking at my nails, “she was so beautiful. and funny, and outgoing..”

his brows furrow, “where are you going with this?”

my teeth sink back into my lip, “do you ever.. think about how different our lives are?

“i mean, i’m this college student, becoming a teacher, and you’re a celebrity.” i shrug my shoulders, “do you ever think about being with.. with someone more compatible?”

“wait, just—“

“that girl in there, she was just like you.” i chuckle, before sniffing, “loud, funny, all bubbly and smiley like that..”

“y/n—“

“and i’m just.. some book nerd.”

“Y/N.” chris says, placing two hands on my shoulders. “please, let me talk.

my lips form a tight line, my throat aching from a sob wanting to come from my throat.

“i love you.” he says in a breathy tone, “only you. i don’t care about how different our lives are; you’re the only girl i want.”

“you.. you love me?” i whisper.

a smile forms on his lips as he brushes a thumb across my cheek.

“of course i do, dummy.” he says, pulling me closer by a hand on my back clothed by his hoodie — his favourite hoodie.

“now, can you stop crying so i can kiss you?” he says, licking his lips, “‘been thinking about you the whole show.”

i giggle. “you’re such a loser.”

“only for you, baby.”

[sinofwriting]

listen, please - Daniel Ricciardo

Words: 316 Summary: Daniel and his girlfriend break the news of their relationship and cause quite a splash with their age difference. (Social Media AU + Blurb) (Olivia Rodrigo as faceclaim and uses her music for reader’s)

Masterlist | Support Me! | listen, please verse

yourusername

liked by dan_nigro, etnews, landonorris, and 548,752 others tagged: danielricciardo yourusername: I learned from my mistakes and finally listened to them. And thank god they were right about you.

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danielricciardo: forever happy they were ⤷ yourusername: ♥️ user01: excuse me??? user02: Uh what? user03: I’m sorry, Daniel??? What are you doing here??? user04: When did this happen? user05: honey, no. he’s in his 30s user06: well, already counting the days for this ending user07: this is going to last all of a month user08: yourusername please, no. Taylor went through this already. Learn from her mistakes!!! user09: Am I the only one picking up on the lyrics from Vampire? We stan using our own lyrics to announce a relationship user10: can’t wait for Dear John yourusername’s version. Gonna be a bop. ⤷ user05: I will sob if she covers that or would’ve could’ve should’ve when this ends. ⤷ user11: will simply die user12: i’m an f1 girlie, but no. This ain’t it. Mick Schumacher is right there, yourusername. Or even Oscar. ⤷ user13: Lando is right there and you went for the nepo baby and a guy who already has a girlfriend ⤷ user12: he was an example! And nearly all the drivers are nepo babies in some way. ⤷ user03: so true user14: how are you going to be such a big swiftie, know the woman yourself and still date a man older than you and believe it’s going to work out?

danielricciardo

liked by maxverstappen1, f1_wags, redbullracing, and 149,875 others tagged: yourusername danielricciardo: Over a year with this one and many more to come, Sweets

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yourusername: so many more to come ⤷ danielricciardo: 😉 maxverstappen1: never seen you happier ⤷ danielricciardo: love ya maxie! user01: first daniel isn’t racing and now he’s taken??? 2023 is the worst user02: daniel, she’s practically a child. What are you doing? user03: weirdo user04: she’s barely 20, what are you doing??? ⤷ user06: yourusername is 22. She’s not barely 20 ⤷ user04: yeah and she turned 22 like barely a month ago user05: Daniel, not like this. I beg user07: well him and pierre have something in common 😆 user08: she’s a baby!!! Get away from her!!! user09: disgusting. Absolutely disgusting user10: you guys are acting like she’s not an adult??? She’s literally in her twenties. ⤷ user04: and he’s in thirties. It’s fucking weird. user11: jail, sir. You go to jail now.

f1_wags

liked by user01, user02, user03, and 2,451 others tagged: yourusername, danielricciardo f1_wags: New WAG Alert! Daniel Ricciardo just announced his relationship with Y/N, a three time grammy winner and musician.

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yourusername

liked by dr3wines, zedd, charlesleclerc, and 462,345 others tagged: danielricciardo, dr3wines yourusername: Congrats on the new wine, Danny! Little sad that it will no longer be for just us and our baths together, but happy to see it be shared.

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danielricciardo: thank ya, sweets. danielricciardo: girl in the second picture is absolutely gorgeous danielricciardo: bath tonight? I’ve still got a few bottles ⤷ yourusername: I’ll always want a bath with you user01: why is his face on my feed user02: throwing up at their comments user03: well, this made me feel incredibly single charlesleclerc: another great wine. Thank you for convincing him to let me try it before the launch! ⤷ yourusername: of course!

user04: leave him!!!! He’s using you for free promo of his wine!!! user05: taylor must be pissed!

taylorswift

liked by yelyahwilliams, taylorlautner, yourusername and 2,873,421 others tagged: yourusername, danielricciardo taylorswift: Was a pleasant surprise to see these two when I stepped off stage tonight. Lovely to see you guys and will see you again for dinner next week!

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yourusername: not a single better performer. Watching is you magic every single time. And dinner will be fun! danielricciardo: amazing show! user01: taylor??? user02: i’m sorry what user03: my 2023 bingo card is in shambles user04: living rn. all of you fuckers were saying that taylor was disappointed and now look. She knew before we did user05: some many clowns staying silent in these comments user06: i was at this show!!! Wyd mean that yourusername was there?

daniel3.jpg

liked by landonorris, f1_wags, sourandguts, and 187,392 others tagged: yourusername daniel3.jpg: my two favorite subjects: you and us

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landonorris: do you two do anything but take baths for date night? ⤷ daniel3.jpg: we do. Just like our baths y’know user01: um, i’m sorry. But that last photo user02: lando is so real. This is the second bath photo we’ve gotten ⤷ user03: i don’t want that water bill user04: gross user05: how do you feel comfortable posting this with how young she is? ⤷ user01: you’re acting like she’s a kid. She’s in her twenties. Fuck off user06: am i supposed to just act like i don’t know now that daniel likes car sex??? ⤷ user03: i’m doing my best to not think about it user07: daniel, thank you for feeding us.

—

Daniel could feel his grin grow, eyes softening, and his shoulders loosening all at the sound of her name. It takes him a moment to register the question, but when he does his grin grows more.

“I wasn’t really expecting it, you know? But she’s just great, I mean absolutely fantastic.” “And the age difference isn’t an issue?” The reporter presses, though more gently than expected. He scoffs, shaking his head. “No, not all. We want the same things in life and we both have very similar timelines for when we want them. We talked about all of that before we even went on a date and us wanting the same things, just helped finally take the next step.”

“And has the backlash affected you two at all?” “No.” Daniel smiles at the confused look the reporter gives him, letting out a chuckle. “We knew it was going to cause a splash. We’ve never ignored the age difference between us. It’s there and ignoring it wouldn’t do anything.” He pauses, “I understand why people are so concerned, there is a history of large age gaps not being great. But there’s also a history of them working out great, I’ve got plenty of examples in my personal life. Besides, it's not really the age difference that matters, it’s where you're at in life and what you want to come next. We just happen to be in the same place and want the same things to come next.”

The reporter is looking at him stunned before they finally manage to find their voice. “Thank you, Daniel.” “Of course, cheers mate.” He winks, before throwing up a hand to wave at the camera before he jogs off, already knowing that he’ll have a text or two from her calling him a sap over his lovesick grin. And he’d hate to not see them as soon as they came in.

[cowboyfromh3ll]

Henlo! If it's alright, could I request some headcanons for Arthur, Dutch, Hosea, Micah, and Kieran being told that their S/O has been killed by the O'Driscolls? But nobody can find their body because it turns out they survived and took care of the worst of their injuries before making it back a week or so later. I am a sucker for hurt/comfort content. Thank you for your time and hope you're doing well.

HC For VDL Boys Being Told Their S/O Was Killed By O'Driscolls Ft. Arthur Morgan, Dutch Van Der Linde, Hosea Matthews, Micah Bell, Kieran Duffy

Ohhh nice and angsty

Warnings: Mentions of death, mentions of violence, angst

Arthur Morgan

He would be absolutely broken

I don't think he'd go as far as to go out and kill O'Driscolls for revenge

But a new cavity in his heart would open up, and his hatred of the O'Driscolls would intensify

He wouldn't be able to get out of bed, would be incapable of taking care of himself, needs people to remind him to eat

Constantly scribbling in his journal about you

Probably the first time anyone in camp has seen him cry in a long long time

Only thing he'd get up for was to go in searches for your body

Is incredibly anxious the entire time they're looking for you and tries to mentally prepare himself for the sight of your body in who knows what state of decomposition

Once you return he'd think you're an apparition

He would be absolutely over the moon and crying tears of joy and relief

Interrogates you about your time gone but doesn't push it if the memories are too painful, you can visit that later

Helps mend any of your remaining injuries

Incredibly protective of you now and refused to let you go off on your own for a while

Holds you so so closely in bed the following nights, absolutely blots out the rest of the world with his body because he's scared if he lets go you'll disappear again

Dutch Van Der Linde

Like Arthur, he'd be destroyed as well

His mourning would cause him to jump to the anger stage immediately

Colm has already taken one lover from him, and now he's done it again? Tensions between the two gangs would be higher than ever before

He'd use the presumed death as an excuse to target Colm and the O'Driscolls for the week

Used the search for your body as an opportunity to interrogate and torture O'Driscolls. For once, he tells Arthur to back off so he can get blood on his hands

Despite everyone else's warnings, he just keeps on going and killing more O'Driscolls

When you finally return, he feels like he's hallucinating you because of his grief, and anger

Allows everyone else a moment to check over you before ushering you over to the privacy of his tent

Allows Ms. Grimshaw to follow so she can clean you up while he talks to you

Holds your hand the entire time and looks into your eyes while reassuring you that he'll never allow that to happen again

Insists you don't lift a finger for weeks afterward

Does NOT tell you about what he did while you were gone and simply speaks of his grief and his now relief that you're back

Hosea Matthews

He'd be grieving, but silently

He wouldn't be MIA like Arthur, and he definitely wouldn't be blinded by rage like Dutch

But he'd be a lot quieter, understandably, and you'd be able to see the deep sadness in his eyes

He didn't expect to lose a second lover, and his heart is heavy with feelings of loss

Would spend a lot of time talking about you to anyone who'll listen, mostly good memories

Turns down any of Dutch's suggestions to go out and take revenge, sees right through his attempts to use your presumed death as an excuse to kill a bunch of O'Driscolls

When you return he is all over you and is overjoyed by your presence

Takes care of all your injuries on his own and holds you sooo close the entire time

Reminds you how much he loves you because he feels like he didn't do it enough before he thought he lost you

Spends so much more time around you. If he wasn't attached to you by the hip before, he definitely is now

I don't think he'd doubt your ability to handle yourself; in fact, it'd probably be enforced by the fact you kept yourself alive for a week. But there'd be a lingering anxiety every time you go out

Micah Bell

Similar to Dutch, he'd go out and kill a shit ton of O'Driscolls

His grief translates to anger, and because I can't see him as a very sentimental person besides in terms of anger, that's the only way he'd express it

Probably wouldn't cry or show moments of vulnerability, but he'd be a lot more brutal in his killings

He'd spend a lot of time away from camp with Dutch probably looking for your body

Wouldn't return to camp for days

So you'd probably return to camp while he's gone, so everyone else tends to you before Micah can

When he returns he insists everyone else get away from you so he can take his own look at you

I wanna say you wouldn't receive a big welcome back gesture from Micah besides a rare shred of vulnerability where he tells you how happy he is to see you back

Don't get too mushy over it or else he'll backtrack

Kieran Duffy

He'd be HYSTERICAL

On his knees crying and wailing in the middle of camp while people try to comfort him

Would be the same level as MIA as Arthur and wouldn't talk to ANYONE

Spends all his time around the horses and doesn't talk to anyone

If anyone does try to talk to him he just stares off silently in the opposite direction

The gang could probably hear him sobbing silently at night while trying to sleep

Drinks himself half dead because he doesn't know how else to cope

Drinks so often that when you come back he doesn't think you're real for a few minutes

It's a huge moment of vulnerability between the two of you where you see each other at your lowest

But it would definitely bring the two of you closer! After the two of you have cleaned yourselves up and taken care of yourselves, you'd have long, deep conversations about what you went through and how happy you are to be back

Lots of reaffirming his love for you, never leaves your side

Insists he comes with you every time you go out. Thinks he wouldn't be able to do much in terms of protecting you, but the sentiment is so so sweet

Becomes more of a way of comforting himself and quelling his own anxiety

[gojoidyll]

There is No Law that Emperors Must be Fair

Emperor ! Jing Yuan x Princess ! Reader

Chapter 8 | An Aeon

Summary | You are set to marry the Emperor, Jing Yuan. In order to break the engagement, you stage an accident and fake having amnesia. But now, your own cruel, cold, and distant fiancé, who seemed to not want anything to do with you, is now acting all lovey dovey!

want to be a part of the taglist? then pls go to taglist ^-^

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When you wake up, your mind feels kind of fuzzy. Almost as if you were missing something.

“Something the matter?”

You felt your soul leave your body at the sudden voice causing him to laugh. Snapping your head to the side, you noticed it was the man from before. The one who erased your death- wait, your death? And that was when it hit you. You couldn’t remember how you died or the pain that you felt. It was like-

“It never even happened?”

You gave him a weary look, causing him to chuckle softly at both your expression and how you were acting.

“There is no need to fret, you know? I am not going to hurt you.”

“What- what are you doing here?”

You ended up ignoring his lighthearted words and gestured to the library. You were still on the couch, and the book you were holding had fallen to the floor.

The man mused to himself, his smile light and warm.

“I suppose it was quite rude of me to task you finding my name.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because my name hasn’t existed in the sense that you know of.”

“…I don’t understand.”

Sunday turned a little and patted his lap. Despite not remembering your death, you did remember how you met him. So you crawled to him, moving some of the cushions in your way and laid sideways, your head nuzzled comfortably in his lap which allowed him to run his fingers through your hair once again.

“My name is Sunday, and I existed not too long ago. However, my reign was short lived thanks to that Emperor. And to worsen my pride, he went and erased my very existence by taking out everything that had any relevance to me.”

“Sunday…?”

You let his name roll off your tongue. The name wasn’t familiar.

“So you fought and lost against the Emperor?”

“I did. I suppose I wanted to see if I still existed somewhere. Anywhere. Though, if I don’t even exist in the Emperor’s library, well, then my name wouldn’t be anywhere else.”

“Why did you fight against him?”

“For my own beliefs. Much like everyone else.”

“What exactly are you anyway?”

“I’m just Sunday. An older brother. A friend. A leader of sorts. And someone who failed in the end.”

“How are you here now then?”

Your voice was soft as you spoke and when Sunday looked down at you, you wondered how someone so angelic could look so sad but still have that soft smile on his face.

“I guess you could say I got lucky with how supposedly died… if shorter terms, I became an aeon.”

“An aeon…huh? And what was that kiss you placed on my forehead? Ever since you did it, I have been having trouble remembering some things.”

“A kiss on the forehead erases pain and misery, so I kiss your forehead, however, a kiss on the forehead can also erase memory. I suppose…, I just didn’t want you to remember the pain you felt when you died.”

“Why?”

Sunday smiled at your question, “because I wanted to, do I need any other reason?”

You hummed at his answer, your eyes glancing back to the library door. You don’t remember closing, maybe Blade did?

“So now that I know your name, what am I supposed to do now?”

“Well,” Sunday started, “you still want to go home, don’t you? Find a way to do that.”

“But how? I kind of died the last time I tried.”

Sunday shook his head as he tried to keep himself from laughing, “don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll find a way. And don’t worry about the rest. If you do die again, I’ll simply erase everything all over again.”

You nodded to his words, but yawned once more, despite sleeping for so long, you were still so impossibly tired which was when Sunday gently bent down to kiss both of your eyelids.

“A kiss to your eyelids, to erase your tiredness.”

And it was true, the sleep that was beckoning gradually left and just as you were about to say something to him, he was already gone. Your head was no longer on his lap and instead rested on a bunch of cushions, and just as you were about to sit up, the library door opened.

“You’re still lying down,” Blade said, an obvious hint of annoyance rested within his tone causing you to frown at him as you sat up.

“I was getting up,” you argued which caused Blade to roll his eyes.

“Whatever…, are you planning to stay here all day princess?”

Huffing at his attitude, you stood up while completely forgetting about the book you had been reading, “I get it, ok? I’m leaving right now.”

Stomping your way out of the library, Blade followed not so quietly after you.

“Woke up on the wrong side of the couch, did we?”

“Oh shut it you…,” your voice trailed off when your stomping slowly slowed to a stop as you looked out to the field where there were a few people riding horses.

A new idea soon forming in your mind.

“Blade.”

“What?”

“I want to go horseback riding.”

taglist pt 1

@danae-misfortune @frogsasfrogs @openthenyoor01 @zuhaine @ughlostmyotherac @joyfulnightprincess @thechibifoxcub @ceaether @satanisasofties @thetwinkims @yanrandom @honeybunbun @superdonkeypatroleggs @ohmyfinggod @baboon-milk333 @zareri @kclremin @rains-mae @yccoffeesimp @bloomiesty @moon-taffy @superdark-soul @pinkismyfavcolor @isa-l0v3r @its-astrotea-love @reapersan @junephantom21 @erisfayred @greyrain23 @justadekusimp @uzxotic @alisstaa @avalordream @unlivingdisaster @pix-stuff @sleepyxion14 @pillows-blankets @anicega @junni-berry @niaainthere @sorachitsuki @dyingsweetmackerel @rosariymchapter @immahuman @fluffy-koalala @momoniq @orphiclueur @insightedly

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Kalim, Vil: Pyrite, Prince, and Pauper

Wah 😭 I really love the initial art!! The water shimmering and making a rainbow… ✨ (Not used to seeing Kalim without his headscarf though, feels weird to see him bare!)

A Tale as Old as Time.

If Kalim had to pick one word to describe what he was looking at, it would be celebration.

It was both humble and extravagant at once—the city streets, the venue, livened up with flags, confetti, and fanfare. A large elephant fitted with a vest and hat towered over the gathered townsfolk. Seated upon him was a young man in a turban and glaringly white robes, an arm extended to the sky.

A grand party for the public, and all were invited. Children and adults, animals and humans, nobles and street rats.

Kalim broke out into a wide smile. “Wow, it looks like everyone’s having so much fun!”

“You never seem to tire from the idea,” Vil commented dryly.

The supermodel patiently tapped a manicured nail against his arm. “I suppose a host showing his best face to the public is far from undesirable. I’ve certainly been to my fair share of events where the host was less than that.”

“Gahahah! You’re famous, so it makes sense you’d be in high demand at parties. Jamil told me about that red carpet you walked a little while ago. I managed to catch some of it on TV!”

Kalim’s garnet eyes glinted with excitement.

“You were all sparkly and the crowd was so happy to see you! You’re like the prince in this painting, hyping everyone up.”

“My, thank you for your support.” Vil’s lip curled. “I’m sure you’re in high demand as well… albeit for different reasons than I. Many would love to have the attention of the Asim heir on them.”

The third year chuckled, a hand tucked under his chin. “It’s only natural for people to be attracted to that which shines.”

“Shines, huh…”

Kalim folded his arms, inclining his head to one side. His mouth pinched slightly, disrupting the arc of his smile.

“… Hey, Vil. Can I ask you something?”

“You need not request for my permission.” Vil waved a hand. “Continue.”

“Do you really think I shine? Like, on stage.” A pause, then he quickly added, “And you can be honest with me. Please… be honest with me.”

“What’s this now?” Vil planted his hands on his hips. “Certainly, you’re not ordinary by any means, but I’d hesitate to call you a refined gem. A one month boot camp isn’t enough to polish your singing and dancing skills to that of a pro—but you’re not talking about VDC, are you?”

“Ahahah… Looks like you caught me.” Kalim let his arms fall to his sides.

“You can’t fool this actor’s eyes,” Vil said simply. “So? What is it that you’re actually after? It’s not like you to talk in circles.”

“It’s nothing. I… A lot’s been on my mind since winter break. Too many things. When I think about it for too long, I start to wonder if I’m really what people say I am.”

You’re so talented, Kalim-sama.

So handsome.

So smart.

So kind.

The very best.

“Sometimes...” He tugged at his collar, watching how it sparkled and shifted as he maneuvered the fabric. “it feels like I'm all dressed up with nowhere to go. Or like my clothes don’t fit me right.”

The golden boy, the prince to make way for, the sun all looked to. They were the roles he wore, but suddenly they felt hollow.

Lies set adrift on an errant wind.

Dust of pyrite, fool’s gold.

Am I pretending to be something I’m not?

“… I’m not making a lot of sense, am I?” Kalim laughed softly, forcing a smile. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have made today feel sad.”

“On the contrary,” Vil tutted, “I understand all too well. All the makeup in the world, the nicest clothes, and the most skilled stylists cannot make a pauper become a prince. A pauper is a pauper, no matter how they present.

“However… a perfect little prince is not all that has value. I’ve played enough parts and been in enough productions to know. There are swash-buckling pirates, daring space heroes, dastardly villains, and, yes, even clever, honest street rats who find themselves in the public eye. Perhaps they did not start off as diamonds, but in the end they proved themselves to be diamonds in the rough.”

Vil lifted his chin—indignant.

“Regardless of how others perceive you or what ensemble you wear, you remain yourself. So long as you hold true to your own moral compass and principles, you shall always be someone who shi… Ough!!”

He could scarcely finish his sentence before he was tackled. Kalim was embracing him tightly, only pulling back when Vil muttered that he was creasing both of their suits.

“Thanks, Vil!! Talking with you made me feel so much better! You’re really not as bad as they say you are.”

Vil frowned. “I’m aware that I have my detractors, but you must learn to be more tactful with your choice of words.”

“Tactful, right! Got it! I can do that.”

Kalim released him and spun around, splaying his arms out. He pretended to present the painting with a flourish, looking back at Vil.

“Someday, maybe I’ll be as sparkly as he is here!”

So I can meet everyone’s expectations. Talented, handsome, smart, kind, better.

But no matter how I might change, I’m still me.

Still Kalim Al-Asim.

And that was something worth celebrating.

[yok00k]

coming down

pairing: non-idoloc! x idol!jk

genre: angst

“i always want you when i’m coming down”

sypnosis: although you sleep next to jungkook every single night, it feels like you’re million miles away from him.

wordcount: around 1,000

warning: in 1st pov, it’s a little sad (for me), open ended ending, one sided love, allusion of cheating, oc’s world revolves around jk (don’t be like her)(lowkey im her), toxic relationship, lack of communication

author’s note: this did not go as I initially planned help-_- i was gonna make light jealousy oc/jk drabble idk how I ended up with this. i hope yall sob w/ me or lmk ur thoughts

an absolute ideal.

his performance. the concept. the way he sang his new released songs flawlessly. how smooth his dancing movements were. how the stage composition and development were so sumptuous.

and most importantly, how romantic the live performance was, given the fact that there was an actress involved in the show.

calling Jungkook an amazing artist would be an understatement. He’s creative, unique, and original in his masterpieces. Everything he does, no matter what, is just mesmerizing and astounding. He’s indeed a true performer.

Jungkook dedicated several months to work on his solo album. The time and effort he had put to his work is just admirable. On most days, he stays up late, trying to come up with so many possible ideas and options he can add on his album.

and I was there by his side. I chose to be.

I was there, waiting for him to come home every single night, or usually midnight, in our noiseless living room, wrapped with a thick blanket and loneliness. He would arrive home, but as night by night goes, I was accompanied by nothing but solitude. it feels like it’s taking over me.

I was there, in bad days where Jungkook is focusing on the negatives and having doubts in himself. Days where his standards for himself weren’t being met. both of my shoulders were closely next to him if he needed something to lean into. Reminding him that it’s okay and he’s doing wonderful.

I was there, even in times when he didn't want or need me to be there. times where he just wanted to be by his own with no distraction. but here I am, continuously showing him my undying love and support for him.

I chose to stay there. on nights where he stopped saying “i love you” back before going to dreamland. I hugged him closer as I convinced myself to believe that he just didn’t feel like saying those three words at those moment because of all the stress he undergoes through day to day.

I gave all of myself, I’ve done my part as his other half. Just like how Jungkook produces his works, I poured all my love and time to him, leaving not a thing for myself. It sounds foolish, but that’s just how I love

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

we’re both lying on the massive bed, only inches apart from one another’s body yet it feels like he’s millions of miles away from me as I stare at his cold, broad back that’s facing me.

I’ve got to used to this upsetting scenario at this point but that doesn’t mean it hurt less.

The whole bedroom feels chilly. I’m freezing, solely due to the fact that his warm arms weren’t wrapped around me like they used to be. as i’m not hearing his snores, I know that he’s still awake

“Do you still love me?” I manage to ask out loud and clear, immediately regretting the words that came out of my mouth even though it’s simply an inquiry.

a question that’s been going around my head for quite some time now. a question that i’m afraid to know the answer to because his response might be the response my heart doesn’t wish to hear or else it will shatter into millions of pieces.

my hope for an answer rapidly decreased as seconds went by filled with silence. The absence of noise that surrounded me was deafening; abundantly mocked the emotions I was feeling at the moment, screaming at me that my feelings didn't matter.

It's alright.

I did nothing but wipe the single tear that uncontrollably rolled down my cheek.

it’s stupid. I should’ve just kept it to myself. maybe that would be less embarrassing. less problematic. less painful than I was feeling minutes ago.

I turned my back against his as I accepted my defeat. maybe I’m just tired. maybe drifting to sleep will make me feel okay although I know deep inside that I won’t take the pain away. this is not some type of feeling i’m unfamiliar with to begin with.

I shut my eyes, as I try to put myself to sleep. but in that process, i felt his body moving, turning around, and finally snakes his warm arms around me. a pair of arms, the same ones I longed for so many nights.

“____, why would you ask that?” he giggly asked, sounding like he just heard a silly question. as if i was just being clingy and wanted some piece of his attention.

‘because i don’t feel like you love me anymore’

the man waited for a response, waiting to see if I was just fooling around or that was really genuine. the noiselessness, just like all times, answers the question we both interrogate to each other.

the heavy feelings just got worse, if not heavier. even so when he talks more. “i won’t be laying next to you if i wasn’t.” as if that makes me feel better.

indeed, he’s physically here by my side yet distant. Jungkook is so far off that I’ve lost him. numbness was all I felt as I heard his words. I couldn’t be more content now that I have my answers.

his indirect answer to a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ question is enough for me to know where we stand.

I can’t help but to turn my body to face him, just to stare at his doe eyes that I easily get lost in due to the fact that they hold thousands of stars, if not a whole world in them.

regretfully, my eyes should’ve just maintained contact with doe-like eyelids. but rather, they drop their focus on the side of his neck, detecting a foreign lipstick shade that he might have forgotten to wipe off. a shade that will be tattooed in my brain and will forever hate.

Inhale. Exhale. I chose to shrug it off, bringing my attention back to his worn out face.

“I love you” truthfully and whole-heartedly confessed to him once more just like I always do. although this was a little bit different because I don’t expect him to say it back anymore.

and with that in mind, this was also the last night that I will to express my love for him.

[fuzzymakercloudduck]

Paige Bueckers x reader

Fluff! Comfort!

I’m sad, wrote this out of the fact I needed it

This is so self indulgent btw

Dusk till Dawn

I have come very far in my career for a twenty two year old, I knew that, but there is a twinkling feeling that chases me for so long, a feeling of failure as if I will never be good enough, it’s exhausting having to fight your brain in a endless battle day to day.

Through the years it got easier, I have found friends that were there for me, my family, my job which I love, and then Paige who has become my sunlight. But sometimes the things I went through, the mental stress I was once caged in comes backs crumbling the steps I took so far.

And it was exactly what was happening right now, an overwhelming takeover of anxiety, I have been overworking myself lately, the fear that I will be a failure knocking down my walls, trying to drive properly as tears blur my vision was not a easy task when I literally couldn’t even breath.

For some miracle I get to the building safely, but I just couldn’t push myself to even get my belt off, I sit in the car and just fall apart, remembering everything, the times in my teenage years I wished I were gone for good, and I know it wasn’t right but I got myself wondering if I done enough to deserve to have lived, if I suffered enough to deserve to have happiness, to deserve Paige, to deserve anything good that I got.

I dry my tears and try to look put together as I bring myself up to Paige’s dorm, hoping the other girls weren’t there so they wouldn’t see me in this state, I just needed to be in my girlfriends arms.

Thankfully once I open the door, the living room was empty so I was able to just go straight to Paige’s room.

Once I standing in front of her door I take a deep breath before knocking.

“Baby, it’s me” I noticed my voice being raspy because of the meltdown I had so I try to cough discreetly as I hear Paige opening the door.

“What happened?” Her face is of immediate concern as she look my face up and down, I was stupid to think I could just pretend everything was fine, at least to the one who knew me the most, and that realization instantly made me have new found tears streaming down my face as I let out a sob, the feeling of stupidity filled my whole body as I hide my face in my hands, right away I felt Paige’s arms around me pulling me in as she closes the door behind my back, her smell sinking me in.

“shh, it’s okay, I’m right here” I feel her guiding me to her bed as she sit us both down, her words made me melt into her embrace then my tears came for real, it felt like hours of simply crying and sobbing as Paige’s hand went up and down my back soothing me down, she kept silence, knowing me well enough to know I need to formulate my feelings before anything else.

“I’m right here for you baby, d’ya wanna talk about it?” her voice was low as she kissed the side of my head. I take a deep breath as I hold tight onto her before saying anything.

“I just felt so overwhelmed lately, with work and within myself really” I let out a sob before continuing, “it makes me so anxious that those feelings I felt when I was in the deepest stage of my depression will just come knocking down everything I’ve done, all the way I crossed, I’m just scared” I finish and feel her arms falling from around me to now her hands holding mine as she look in my eyes.

“You have no idea of how strong you are, and I understand is so scary to know you ever felt that way, but the difference is that you were dealing with all that all by yourself, you don’t have to do it anymore, whenever you feel like you lost just remember I am right here with you, as well as so other people that love you, you’re not alone anymore, and you’ve come so more far than you even realize.” Paige whips the tears that spill out of my eyes as second nature and then pull me into her chest laying both of us down, suddenly all the unsafely mindset evaporate, being drowned out by the comfort of the person that loves me.

“And I need you to promise me that you will always talk with me when you feel like this, ok?” She look in my eyes as she say this, Paige was one of the only people that I shared my past history with mental health medicine and the darkest side of my depression. “Doesn’t matter where or when, the moment you need it I am right here, you do not need to be strong alone, I love you”

“I love you Paige” my eyes were so heavy because of the tears,I knew this would be a bigger conversation in the morning but for now I really needed to drift in sleep in her arms, my safe space, my home. “Thank you for just being you” she held my tightly as she grabbed the blankets to throw over us once she realized my eyes closed.

“I’m here from dusk till dawn” I feel a kiss pressed to my forehead right before I stumble in sleep.

*NOT PROOFREAD, ALSO ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE SO DO NOT COME FOR ME

[rotrightthrough]

We’re live!

Word count: 2000 somehow?? I intended this to be a little Drabble but oh well. This is a re upload for visibility. Idea is from @swollentummies

Eli adjusted his lingerie to drape perfectly over his baby bump. The fabric was extremely tight, a purchase from much earlier in his pregnancy, but it was one of his favorite pieces, made of pure, delicate white lace, and today was an important show. He was prepared to go all out. “Be good for this one ok?” He whispered down at the 42 week swell of his belly. Eli had actually planned to take a break from camming after he hit his due date but after 2 weeks of minimal movement and no signs of imminent labour, he decided to bless his viewers with one last show, one where he’s as pregnant as he’ll ever be. A grand finale of you will.With one more adjustment of his posture he flicked on his camera and smiled as he watched the viewers pour in. “Ok guys I’m sad to say this will be my last show for a while, so let’s make it a good one.”

Comments flooded through the chat, many disappointed but just as many merely excited to see their favorite camboy stream so close to birth. “We’re going to be doing donations for requests today. Nothing too crazy though.” He giggled, “don’t want to send me into labor.” His first donation came in right after that statement. It was a pretty hefty one too, with the request being simply to do 10 jumping jacks. “Jumping jacks?” He raised an eyebrow, but shrugged. A request is a request after all. The mere action of standing up was arduous now, but he tried to make it look more sultry and less like he was a beached whale coming up from the water. He did one jumping Jack before realizing why the donor had requested such an action. As he jumped out his belly would bob and sway, the pure gravity and speed of the action foreign to Eli’s body at such an advanced stage in pregnancy.

He tried his best to make the exertion appealing to his viewers, even lingering to gently stroke his belly afterwards, which was now awake with a flurry of exercise induced activity. He panted as he sat back down, adjusting his camera so the viewers could be treated to a full view of his overdue belly. “Oof, that was tougher than I thought, I guess I’m getting pretty out of shape huh?” He chuckled before glancing back at his monitor. He saw a request to get onto his bed and immediately took it, those jumping jacks certainly did a number on his back. This odd pain began to spread at the base of it, radiating upwards. But he ignored it, after all who doesn’t have back pain when they were as overdue as he was.He leaned against the plush pillows of his bed, propping his belly up like a cake in a display case. He glanced at a particular donation and grinned mischievously. It was a challenge he’d done quite a few times before.

He had a small vibrater that he had programmed to raise in one level of speed and intensity every time someone donated over 1,000 dollars. It had been a staple prop in his shows for a while now but he hadn’t used it since he hit 36 weeks, afraid to set off labor. However since the amount of money needed to raise the level was so high, he reasoned it would probably stay at a pretty tolerable level of stimulation. “No I am not lowering the level raising price.” He giggled as he slipped the little toy between the very small allowance between his lingerie. It was so tight even the small vibrator fit snugly and secure in his panties. “This is our last show for a bit, don’t go cheaping out on me.” He added a little pout as a flourish.

Then a devious little idea popped into his head.He leaned against the pillows and adjusted his hips so the audience could see the bulge of the vibrator in his semi transparent panties. “I’m so worried though, I heard too much stimulation can cause someone to go into labor,” he purred and stroked his ripe belly. “I really hope that doesn’t happen.” Eli smirked internally. The vibrator had ten levels, and it was incredibly rare for it to ever get above a 5 in a single show, especially considering certain patrons would pay to interrupt the portion to get him to do other acts, resetting the donations. He knew even a 5 may be a little intense for him this late in his pregnancy, but he was certain he could handle it. He was a professional.The first donations flow in, probably brought on by his teasing.

They come faster than usual but not intolerably so, even in Eli’s gravid state. Despite this he makes a show of it, sitting up and rocking his hips, moaning softly as the vibrations echo throughout him. He feels his stomach tighten from the sudden shift but simply continues to rock his hips, it helps with the odd pressure forming at his pelvis.“Oof, guess I’m extra sensitive today guys, only level 1 and I’m already feeling it.” He smiled, tracing hearts along the overstretched skin of his belly button.

As he rode his way through the vibrations he decided to answer some questions.“No, the doctor said he doesn’t think it’s twins. Just one big guy.” He chuckled, reading through further. “Oh come on, don’t underestimate me. I can totally give birth to them naturally. I know my hips are a little narrow but I’ll be getting an epidural so it’ll be fine.” The chat seemed a little disappointed at that and Eli smirked a little too smugly. “What, did you guys want me to give birth on stream? That’s a little far even for me.” For some reason donations started to flood in after that, brutally fast, as if Eli taunts had only encouraged them.

Eli’s performative panting and moans began to transform into genuine guttural sounds as he felt the pressure build around the base of his abandoning. His belly seemed to squeeze with every new donation, a constant war between the pleasure of the vibrations and the pain of these odd sensations. And then it hit him. He was in labor. The thought quickly made him spiral before he realized a few things. This was his first baby, and first babies are known to take forever and his water hadn’t even broken yet. He was fine to wrap up the show.Besides he was making more money now than he ever had. Even an hour more could mean thousands of dollars. But as the vibrator began to approach level 4 he panted a few shallow breaths. The little squeezes were becoming big- long squeezes, so intense they were visible on his belly from the monitor. His stomach now sat between his thighs, low and heavy.

“Ok guys I think we’re gonna wrap up soon. I think I’m in labor.” Perhaps his chat thought he was doing some sort of roleplay thing because that really made the donations go haywire. Hundreds of dollars at a time skyrocketed him up to level 5, causing his entire body to become jelly like- moaning lewdly. “Fuck, guys I’m serious.” He panted, rubbing a hand from the base of his contracting belly to the top, feeling how rock hard the surface was. “Hooo look,” he stammered out, poking his belly for emphasis, showing the camera the state of his baby bump, stretched beyond its limits and wracked with contractions.

He kept trying to reach for his camera, or his monitor to shut off the stream but each new donation and each new contraction kept his nailed down, clenching around nothing. “Ooo fuck guys.. hooo, owww,” he moaned, moving again before immediately realising what a horrible idea that was.Sitting up in it of itself was a struggle on a good day, sitting up with a vibrator in him and a baby thrashing around was nearly impossible. He attempted to wade through the mixture of agony of bliss, rocking his hips in a circular motion.

Unfortunately this only seemed to encourage his babies descent, and before he knew it, he felt the whole weight of the baby on his pelvis, pressing against his cervix. Little by little he was managing to sit up, having to lay back slightly every time a new donation or contraction came in. But eventually he was able to make it right to the button on his pc, finger hovering over it and then-

Optimus_Alpha donated $4,000!

Pop!

Just like that his progress was halted and he threw his head back in a combination of ecstasy and agony. Not only had the vibrator been brought up to its maximum level in the span of a minute, but the pure shock of it caused his water to break, amniotic fluid soaking his bed and his beautiful white lingerie. His brain started to panic, before instinct set in and he almost forgot that he had an audience, with more flooding in each minute. Thousands of viewers, all about to lay witness to the birth of a new life. “Hooo fuckkkk-“ Eli moaned gutturally, attempting to shove off his panties as he felt them bulge. But it was useless, they were just too tight.

He needed scissors or something, but he would be amiss if he ruined such a perfect pair of panties.So instead he focused on slow pushes, panting heavily as he managed to push the lacy lingerie off. It was an agonizing process, his mind hazy with pain throughout, but eventually the panties lay at his swollen ankles and he was able to remove that damn vibrator. Now that his panties were off his viewers received a full view of his bulging exit, swollen and dangerously stretched over the baby’s massive head. He stroked the area with a free hand, gasping as he felt the sliver of head stretch him, a bit of dark hair peeking out.

“Ohhh fuck fuck he’s so big, he’s too big.” Eli cursed, clutching his belly. He was wracked by constant contractions now, and with no vibration to distract him he was forced to confront the full pain of childbirth.

He pushed and squeezed until his face grew a shade of bright red, stroking his belly with one hand and the fiery ring of hell that was his nether regions with the other, helping to stretch the area. The burn was terrible, like nothing he had ever felt, and he became lost in it, bearing down and pushing like his life depended on it.He clutched at his ruined silk sheets as he bore down for one brutal push before he heard a satisfying pop of the baby's head dislodging. He met momentary relief before having to pant out the shoulders, adjusting himself into a low squat to accommodate the rest of the baby's body. With the shoulders out the feet quickly followed and the not so little baby that emerged from him started to cry.

Eli collapsed onto his pillows, cradling his 12 pound infant to his chest. He laughed tiredly before laying a kiss on the babies forehead. “Well aren’t you a cutie?” He sat their peacefully for a moment before he heard his computer ding, signaling the 3 hour mark of the stream. Shit. He forgot to turn the damn thing off. “Umm.” He smiled nervously. “I told you today was a special show?” Honestly, it was a net positive. The money he made from that stream was enough to go on maternity leave for a loooong time.

[just-some-random-blogger]

Edge Of Ever After | 2

Part 1 2 3

Sandor runs his fingers down my spine and sighs, "everything I ever touch goes to shit." He grabs my hip and pulls me close. I turn to him and nestle my face into his chest. He traps me in his arms, "but you... you turn my shit into gold."

Sandor Clegane x Reader | 6k+ | cw: fem!reader, wife!reader, POV shifts!, mentions/depictions of pregnancy/miscarriage/mensuration/the likes, enemies to lovers, remnants of forced marriage, slow burn, angst, emotional unavailability, emotional vulnerability, The Hound being abrasive, miscommunication, fluff, typos, etc.

A/N: about time i posted the next part here on tumblr this is originally posted on ao3

I gag as I watch maester Yannick swirl around a flask of my urine by the window. He holds it by the light and I have to look away as he inspects it.

"I wouldn't hold my breath, maester," I mutter as the man heads towards his desk.

"Of course not. You're doing it for me," he says as he places the sample down and scribbles on parchment, "now. Any cravings, besides the obvious strawberry pie one."

I suck in a deep breath before sighing, "no. None at all."

Maester Yannick turns to me and squints, "any physical symptoms? Mood swings? Sore breasts?"

I lightly clear my throat and shake my head, "none."

He turns back to his journal and writes something. He takes a moment before asking, "when was the last time you coupled?"

I wipe my face and buzz my lips, "...10 days?"

He chuckles, "well that explains it."

"E-... Explains what?"

"Why he's so much of a hound lately," he closes his journal with a thud, "nasty temper that one-- but what do you expect from a man who drinks wine like water?"

I lick my lips and pick at my nails.

"Pah, don't worry," he waves me off, "you married a grump. He was grumpier before," he raises a brow, "and I didn't have to be there to know it."

Maester Yannick walks over to me, grabs my shoulders and nods, "now. My learned self deduces you are probably in the early stages of childbearing." He raises a finger, "that being said, you have had issues with your moon cycle before."

The old man releases me, only to push me towards the door. I look at him in panic as he seems not to want to continue what he was going to say.

"My dear," he opens the door, "my advice is to simply wait."

"Wait?!" I pull away from him to face him, "what does that mean?"

"It means just go about your day. Don't think about this because we cannot be certain of a consensus. Go to the festival in the town. Bring your dogs. Bring your husband," he motions to the open door, "make merry. It's good for your health, and for whatever life you could possibly - if the gods will it - be carrying."

Maester Yannick effectively kicks me out of his office after that. 

He was horrible with that news, and rather vague. I don't know if I should cry, be angry, or be sad. Or happy? Should I be happy? Well... I don't know what I am.

I find myself recounting everything our maester told me as I walk down the hallway. When I make my way to the living area, I am greeted by 3 cold snouts of 3 pups that were getting too big to be called that in my opinion.

I smile at them and head towards the settee. I sit down and grab the ball I left there, throwing the thing into the hall, watching the dog siblings clamour after it. I continue to do this and only stop whenever there's someone passing by.

At some point, in my absentmindedness, I throw the ball too hard and it hits the end of the hall, bouncing off into the other. I watch the dogs chase after it and sequentially have to chase after them.

Seeings as the pups were great retrievers, I was expecting them to meet me halfway in the hall as I followed. When they don't, I call out to them with concern.

"Go on," a gruff voice says, "your mam's calling you lot."

I reach the end of the hall and see Sandor shooing away the three beasts by the door to his office. I smile at him as he growls to intimidate them; the dogs only bark back and wag their tails.

"Let the poor man go," I say as I walk over.

Sandor looks up at me. I chuckle as I watch his annoyed expression soften.

He purses his lips and steps forward, "they don't listen to me."

"They do," I cross my arms, "they just want to play.'

"Then they clearly don't listen to me," he corrects.

I shrug, "they do."

He rolls his eyes and places a hand on his hips, "did you want to go to the festival? The townsfolk have been fucking yapping to me about it. They want to see you."

I tighten my arms around me as I think about what Yannick said again.

Sandor's eyes dart down, landing on my chest. His nose twitches and he clears his throat as he looks away.

"I want to go but I..." I hesitate.

It catches Sandor's attention and makes him look back at me.

"I have something to tell you."

His brows furrow, "what is it?"

Lilac begins to bark loudly. It makes both of us turn to her and shush her out of instinct. She barks some more just to drive her point then shakes her floppy ears.

Sandor, finally having enough, picks up Lilac, and she immediately stops barking. He makes a face at the dog as she lolls her tongue out, clearly happy to be finally be carried.

I giggle and pet her head, "such a pampered princess."

The Hound side eyes her.

It's not long until Rose and Sage are barking up their protests. The Hound has no choice but to carry three pups in his arms.

I chuckle as I watch Sage make a fuss, like always. He liked having his front paws on Sandor's shoulder, and so he fussed until he got what he wanted. Sandor cradled the two girls in his arms.

"You were saying?" mutters my husband, pretending to be more annoyed than he actually was. 

I frown, "they don't like it when I carry them."

"You can't carry them," he adjusts his hold, "not all at once."

I huff and pet Rose on the head. She leans into my touch.

"Well?"

I look at Sandor, "hmm?"

"You have something to tell me," he repeats.

I weigh the options in my head. I decide on what to say and stop petting Rose in lieu of petting Lilac. I suck in a breath, "I want to buy a melon."

He knits his brows, "what?"

I stroke Sage on the back and he turns around only to look away a second later, "I want to buy a melon. At the festival."

"That's it?"

I nod and lie, "that's it."

He half shrugs, "then we'll get a melon. Why'd you say it like you meant to say you don't want to go with me?"

"I do!"

"You don't want to go-"

"I WANT TO GO WITH YOU!"

He presses his lips together. He is unable to hold back his chuckle but then wipes off his grin, and shrugs, "so? What's the problem?"

"It's just..." I think of an excuse to cover up my lie, "I feel bad that you carried that pumpkin all the way here from the market."

Sandor raises his brows. He looks disgusted. His lips twitch, "I carried a cow once, you know that?"

I blink at his words and debate its truth.

"Look," he rocks the pups in his hands, "three fucking wee cows right now."

I break into a laugh.

He looks like he's about to set the pups down but he stops himself when he sees how they look like they're about to doze off. He sighs, "we're not bringing these mutts."

He grumbles all the way to their dog bed where he gently puts them down.

I babble about why I wanted a melon to Sandor all the way to the festival to continue making my agitation over what I really wanted to tell him subside. We decided to walk because I said I wanted to pick flowers on the way, even though the truth was... I wanted the travel to the festival to be longer.

The festival was a harvest event where the folks celebrated their crops. They held some contests for their livestock and their plants, and they also did pantomime and jigs. At least that's what I could remember from the little memory I had of it as a child.

"Oh, look!" I point to a flower, "that looks beautiful."

Sandor sighs as I rush towards a large flower. He shakes his head and places his hands on his hips as he follows after me, "love, at this point, we're not going to get to the festival. You keep heading the other way."

I pluck the flower and bring it into the small bouquet I had in my hand. I looked at my arrangement and decided it was too... yellow for it.

I shake my head and walk towards Sandor, "too yellow." 

He looks down as I hand it to him. He raises his brows, "what do you want me to do?" He takes the flower and makes a face, "paint it?"

"Mmmmmm.... maybe you can-"

A scream of terror cuts me off.

My heart drops and immediately, Sandor pulls me behind him. He places his hand on his scabbard, glad to never leave the house without steel.

There is a rustle by the foliage.

He says over his shoulder, "step back."

I do so without question.

It doesn't take long until there's a running sound getting closer. Quickly, a woman, ragged and panting, emerges from behind the trees.

"HELP!"

Sandor is on his guard.

She was being pursued by a woodland monster. I was mortified to see it and was ready to run back home.

Sandor chuckles when he sees how tiny it was. He screams to taunt the beast and draws it away from me and the woman. Sure enough, the thing begins to head towards him and, in truth, I'm a bit concerned by how easily he killed it and how... happy he looked to do so.

Sandor sheathes his sword without wiping it off and head towards me. He looks at me with concern, "are you alright?"

I stare at him, wondering about the damage killing so many monsters was doing to him.

Sandor looks to the ground and picks something up. He takes my hand and I look down to see him placing the flowers I picked back into my hold. I hadn't even realized I dropped them. It was at this moment I was snapped back into reality. There was a woman being chased just a few seconds ago.

I turn and see the said person, clutching her chest as she caught her breath. I walk towards her, "are you hurt?"

Sandor makes sure to keep me behind him as we approach her.

She gasps for air twice before turning to me to shake her head, "no..." she pants, "but I am thirsty."

I turn to Sandor, who looks at me for a few seconds then her. He tilts his head, "why were you in the woods?"

"Sandor," I scold for not immediately offering to give her water.

"I was trying to forage food," she sighs, "I thought it was safe enough to do that now. Clearly I was wrong "

I nudge Sandor on the rib. He sighs, "you want some water?"

She nods quickly.

He looks at me and I smile at him. I turn to the woman, "my husband and I would be glad to give you some." 

She sighs in relief, "thank you."

Sandor did not once take his eyes off the woman, not even when I nudged him with my elbow for glaring.

Lorena was her name. I sat next to her on our bench in our front yard, watching as she finished an entire ewer of water.

She sets her cup down on the space between us with a sigh. I smile at her when she turns to me. She wipes her lips on her sleeve, "thank you kindly, lady."

"You're welcome."

"Alright, you had your drink," Sandor says, "time to go."

I make a face as Sandor comes to Lorena's side, "Sandor."

Lorena stands up, "may I say one thing before I go, Lady Clegane."

My forehead wrinkles. I stand as well, "of course. And pay no mind to my husband. You may stay to catch your breath if you'd like."

The Hound scoffs, "then she'll ask for a meal, and a place to stay."

I nearly roll my eyes but decide to cover my annoyance with a smile.

Lorena gives me a solemn expression, "may I speak freely?"

For a second, I wonder why she had to preface with this, but I disregard the thought and nod, "of course."

"You have a monster with you, large and viscous."

My expression drops.  I part my lips, "... I beg your pardon?"

Lorena turns to Sandor. I am flabbergasted by her offensive insinuation 

My eyes dart between the two. My husband seems wholely unfazed by the horrendous accusation, which makes it all the more unbearable for me. I do not get the opportunity to speak however.

"Your endeavor to purge the forest is futile, so long as she lives like this," Lorena tells Sandor.

I chuckle dryly, "I BEG your pardon?!"

She turns to me and knits her brows. She looks worried and shakes her head, "you must get cleansed by a spellcaster who has the same or more power than the one who cursed your family, Lady Clegane."

I freeze at her words. My brows knit. I blink rapidly, stunned by what she was saying now.

Sandor narrows his eyes, "what curse?"

Lorena turns back to Sandor, as if in disbelief of his question. Regardless, she clarifies, "the curse of the forest, of Brown Wood; the curse of her clan."

I gulp at her words. I slap a hand to my mouth, suddenly queasy. A bitter taste grows as the woman continues.

"I grew up in Essos. My mother was a soothsayer. She could read your future from a look of your palm. I inherited but a fraction of her gift, which is why I cannot help you myself."

"Essos?" Sandor scoffs, "let me guess, you're from Volantis?"

Lorena nods, "I am."

The Hound cackles, throwing his head back as he did.

I feel bile rise up my throat.

Lorena looks disgruntled as Sandor calms and shakes his head. "All right, wench," he grabs her arm, "get out of he--"

I run towards a nearby bush and begin to retch. Sandor immediately releases Lorena and dashes to my side.

Lorena looks at me and mutters something foreign under her breath. 

I vomit a good amount before straightening up, weakly leaning into Sandor as he pulls me into his chest. My head is pounding. I hear him repeat my name as he wipes my lips with his sleeve.

"Your monster is fighting back now that it's been recognized," Lorena says with pity.

Sandor enraged, "fuck off! GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!"

She is taken aback, "but I-"

"I'VE HEARD ENOUGH FROM YOUR CUNT MOUTH!"

Lorena flinches and slowly walks back before ultimately running away.

"N-no-" I turn to her, "wa-it!"

Sandor pulls me back, circling around to block me. He clutches my cheeks, lowering himself to examine my face, "are you alright?"

I shake my head in an attempt to push him away. I, in fact, push him, but he doesn't budge, "you scared her off, Sandor! She had more to say-"

"I'd have severed her tongue for it," he quips, placing his hands on my shoulder, pushing me back, "we're going inside."

"But-" but I can only walk in the direction he's dragging me.

Sandor causes as scene when we get inside. He sits me down and starts shouting, "SOMEONE GET FUCKING WATER FOR THE DAMNED LADY OF THE HOUSE, YOU LAZY SHITS."

"Sandor," I whimper, wiping my face as I watch him pace around, demanding attention.

He walks towards me, kneeling by the chair I was sat on. Right on cue, the patter of paws fill the air and three barking pups come running over. Two of them nip at Sandor's clothing, eager for his attention. One of them, Lilac, barks at me, loudly requesting to be picked up.

I huff and chuckle at the creatures, shushing them while picking up Lilac, "don't upset your father more than he already is."

Sandor's heart skips when he hears that. Aye, it was not the first time he's heard it but it doesn't make it any less exciting for him. He looks over his shoulder and eyes the pups, "shut it."

Rose howls and sticks out her tongue.

"Stupid bitch," he grumbles.

I frown, "Sandor."

He clears his throat.

A servant comes with an ewer and a cup. I'm about to say thank you, but Sandor barks out to call Maester Yannick, and so the poor thing scurries off to do just that.

"That's enough," I scowl at him, "I'm fine."

Sandor's face sours, "you fucking vomited-- fine my arse."

"You heard her," I sigh and cuddle with Lilac, "it's the curse reacting to-"

"You're not cursed," Sandor quips.

My eyes water.

A beat passes.

I watch Sandor's expression harden. At the same time, Sage begins his attempt to climb up the chair. Sandor moves his leg around when Rose begins to nip at ends of his trousers.

With a raised brow and an eye roll, Sandor picks both Sage and Rose, handing them over to me.

The reunited siblings begin to silently play with each other on my lap. Their legs kick my arms and chest but I could not care less.

"That cunt bitch was hired by Littlefinger to fuck with you," Sandor stands and peers down at me, "don't you see? She's conveniently from Volantis and can see monster remnants-- HA-- even I can do a better job than that."

I begin to feel my stomach sour again, my face scrunching in return. 

Sandor is flooded with concern. At the same time, the puppies begin to jump off me. He hisses, "gods," bending down to prevent the pups from injuring themselves.

The siblings chase each other around the room and sequentially find a toy to play with.

I take a deep breath, which thankfully helps to calm my stomach. I sigh, "I don't think so."

He looks at me.

"I think she sincerely wants to help."

He deflates his lungs. He calls my name again, "you're not-"

"You're forgetting I was there," I mutter, feeling my throat constrict, "someone came here to Brown Wood that day and unleashed this."

His brows knit tightly when I grab his hand. He kneels again when I tug him, bringing his palm to my side

"A monster didn't scar me, Sandor, a man did."

I feel him tighten his grip on my left hip.

My emotions best me.

Sandor doesn't move an inch as I cry into my hands. Something horrendous eats away at him. His hand tenses, but he decides - fuck it - and pulls me towards him. He rubs my waist as I wipe my cheeks.

I bring my arms around his shoulders, calming myself down with the warmth of him. He sighs where I sob. He whispers, "I'm here, sweet wife. No one else will lay a finger on you."

My chest tightens at his words.

Then it dawns on me... I was meant to die that night. The monsters were for my family, and I survived. I'm the reason why this pestilence plagues Brown Wood.

I pull away from Sandor when I realize this.

He recoils with shock.

I stand and run outside, passing maester Yannick, as I make my way to a bush to vomit again.

I lie in bed feeling horrible after having so many people fuss over me. Sandor wound up snarling at the servants waiting outside my door, scaring them off to give me some privacy.

Maester Yannick pats my hand after he finishes examining me, "you're going to be fine. If I'm being blunt, you had quite a dramatic reaction."

I sink into the cushions as I watch the old man gather his things, readying to leave, "of course, some bodies are more naturally dramatic than others," he turns to Sandor, ho was standing by the door, "take your husband for example. He's not got a bone in his body made with dramatics."

I look at Sandor; his face is indignant and his crossed arms make him appear more tense.

"Of course, that can also be worrying," Yannick says as he walks towards him. He pats his shoulder, "our body's reactions are telling of its conditions, and yours it telling you it needs rest."

The Hound eyes him as he exits the room. Maester Yannick shoos the people who've come back to snoop on the situation.

Sandor promptly locks the door. I lean into my pillow and watch him walk over to me.

I feel my throat tighten as he sits down on the other side of the bed. My eyes water a bit as he looks me over. He mumbles incredibly softly, "are you alright, pretty squirrel?"

I clench my jaw and sink into the sheets, "no."

He sighs. He sounds uneasy, "should I get you anything?"

Before I can respond, Sandor snaps.

"Fuck that old cunt. Dramatic or not, you spewed out everything you ate in the bushes. You need something."

I feel my vision blur. I rapidly shake my head and blink away the tears, "I'm tired, s'all."

"You need to eat something."

I reach out to him, "hold me instead?"

Sandor freezes. He proceeds to remove his shoes and gets under the sheets. He lies back and pulls me into him.

I nestle my face into his chest.

He gives out a deep sigh. He slowly speaks my name.

I lift my face and catch the worry on his.

He eyes me and presses his lip together, "you... you don't think this could be..."

I watch him as his gaze wanders, as if looking for the words to say. His hand rubs down my back. He turns to me again, "... you know..."

I knit my brows, "because I was upset about the curse?"

"Mmm-- no-" he sniffles, "because you're... carrying..."

I look at him with confusion but then it slips into realization. I perk and sit up slightly. I shake my head and offer a smile, "ah. Well... it's not improbable."

He looks at me in expectation.

I turn to his shirt, eyeing the fabric with artificial interest. I absentmindedly feel the fabric with my finger, "maester Yannick has his suspensions but he told me not to worry about it."

He shifts to towards me. He rubs my shoulders, but I still do not look up at him. He asks, "are you worried about it?"

"I'm cursed, husband," I mutter. Tears drip onto his top, "of course I'm worried. It's no wonder I cannot keep a child."

His brows tighten. He calls out my name.

I refuse to look at him. A dam of tears threaten to burst if I do.

Sandor runs his fingers down my spine and sighs, "everything I ever touch goes to shit." He grabs my hip and pulls me close.

I turn to him and nestle my face into his chest.

He traps me in his arms, "but you... you turn my shit into gold."

I hold back my tears but the sobs come out anyway. I grip onto his collar for dear life. He tightens his hold on me. We remain like this until I've wet his shirt and forced myself to calm down. He holds me all throughout, the sound of his breathing lulls me.

"There were 5 of them," I mumble against him.

Sandor doesn't say a word.

"They killed every one of our servants, then my father... my poor younger brother and sister," I lick my lips, tasting the salt of my tears, "I only survived because I was not inside that day; my older brothers snuck me out to watch them ride."

I laugh at the memory of them fighting over my approval.

Sandor's heart clenches at the sound.

"Those five men were covered in blood when they found us. They told us what they did to Brown Wood, the curse they set, the lives they took to do it. They told us what they were going to do to my brothers... to me. My eldest brother managed to maim one of them before he was beaten into the ground. My other brother gave his life to put me on his horse," I push myself up and look at him, "one managed to dig his knife into me before the steed bolted away."

Sandor watches as I take his hand. I bite my lip to keep myself from sobbing.

He straightens up and wipes my face with his free palm. He rubs down to my shoulder, "your brother wanted you to live. They all would have wanted you to live a happy life."

I laugh through my sob, "they would not want Brown Wood to be cursed, none of them would."

"But it's not your fault," he speaks tenderly, "you had nothing to do with it."

"They chased after me," I muttered, "the monsters."

A line forms between his brows.

"They chased me and my brother's horse into the woods, and all I did was scream and beg the poor creature to keep running as I clung onto its neck. I lead those monsters into the forest. Those vile creatures are hurting the people here because I was meant to fall with my br-"

"Enough," he grabs my shoulders.

I make a pained sound, "don't you see?!"

He is taken aback when I fight him away, but he does not release me.

"I've cursed you too! You think I've given you gold, when I truth you've been thrown here to die!"

Sandor cups my face.

"I was never meant to have you," I grab his wrists, trying to yank him away, "I was not meant to have anyone."

I eventually give up trying to free myself from his touch. It's not like I actually wanted to be in the first place.

He swallows a thick lump in his throat. "Aye," he furrows his brows, "you were never meant to have me. I was sworn to a bastard king, destined to die for him with nothing else to live for.

"The day King's Landing was attacked from Blackwater Bay, I saw my life flash before my eyes. I saw my end in the flames," he squeezes my arms, "and I saw you... my poor lady wife, my meek and naïve little bride. I knew what they'd do to you, to you, your wench, and your lame dog if I died that night."

My heart hurts, and clenches, and twists at his soft voice. I notice the glint in his eyes, the water waiting to spill.

"Sandor..."

"You say you're my curse," he takes my hands and rubs my knuckles. He looks at me and tightens his grip. He shakes his head, knitting his brows deeply together, "you are my purpose."

My lips quiver. My breathing grows heavy.

"I will not have you harmed, by blade, by claw or curse," he leans forward and scoops me on to his lap. He seals me into a tight embrace, "let me handle this."

I suck in a breath.

"Let me keep you safe."

I sigh slowly and nod my head. I snuggle my face into his neck and mutter softly, "I trust you."

I wake up to an empty bed. I knit my brows at it and look out the window. It seems like I was early in the morning. I scratch my eyes. Or, wait... was it still night?

Gods, I am disoriented.

I reach out to Sandor's side, hand slapping on the vacant cushion, and sigh. 

I notice some candles in the room were lit. Maybe he woke up for a wee.

I close my eyes and try to go back to sleep.

I feel sick to my stomach.

I groan.

I peel my heavy eyes open, thinking this was going to be impossible if Sandor doesn't come back soon.

I watch the sky through the window. Long moments later, I hear the door open.

I turn to see Sandor walking in. I sit up when I notice him holding a tray.

He stops in his tracks, "... you're not supposed to be awake yet..."

"You left," I retort.

"I made sure not to make a sound."

"What is that?"

Sandor turns to his tray and walks over, "something to eat when you wake." He heads towards me and places the object down on the bedside table, "it's meant to be cool by the time you did."

I knit my brows as he sits on the edge of the bed. I glance at the bowl of porridge, feeling my heart warm and pinch at his concern. I reach out to him and he sandwiches my hand in both of his, "how are you feeling?"

"Tired," I mutter.

"Hungry?"

"Tired."

"You haven't eaten anything since you emptied your guts."

"I'm not hungry, husband."

"Because you've let your hunger pass," he says sternly, a line forming between his brows.

I press my lips tightly and pull my hand out of his grip. I slowly reach out to his cheek, "may I?"

Sandor hesitates but responds by pressing my palm on his scarred face. He is rigid against my touch. It seems like he won't let up. I release him from his misery by moving my touch to his chest. He immediately relaxes. I mutter, "I'll eat in a little while."

Sandor touches the hand on his chest, "you probably woke up because you're hungry."

I chuckle softly and shake my head, "I woke because you weren't there."

He grunts.

"It's cold," I add.

"I know what can warm you up."

My stomach flips when he leans forward. But then, he reaches out for a spoon and says, "porridge."

I watch as he brings a spoonful of porridge to his lips to blow at it. When he thinks it's cool enough, he brings it towards me.

I have to bite my lips to hold back my laugh but eventually bring myself to eat, for his sake. I lick my lips after and he looks at me expectantly. I smile, "it's delicious. Thank you."

Sandor shakes his head, "it's not delicious. You're just hungry."

He goes for another scoop.

I watch as he blows the spoonful, "did you make it?"

"Nay, the castle ghost did," he brings the spoon to my lips.

I give him a look.

"... I did."

I eat the porridge.

Sandor goes for another scoop but I stop him by grabbing his arm.

We stare at each other for a moment. I shift on the mattress and get on my knees. I push myself up, becoming slightly taller than him as I did. I crawl over.

He watches me, eyes raking up and down my form. 

He stiffens when I bring my leg on his lap and take a seat there. I rest my head on his shoulder and wrap my arms around him, "I told you, I'm not hungry."

"..."

"I'm not a little girl that need be spoon-fed." 

I hear him put the spoon down. He places his hands on my hips.

"You don't have to treat me this way."

"Foolish wife," he sigh, "you took care of me once."

"..."

He rubs my back.

I slowly pull away and look at him.

He rubs my sides, "more than once. Much more."

My lips part. My brows knit.

"I'm hardened. I have no instinct for tenderness, only instinct to survive," he lowers his head, "you will not survive if you don't eat."

I sigh, expression melting, "oh, puppy. One missed meal will not kill me."

He scowls.

I bite my lip and cling on to the fabric of his top, "I swear to you, I will eat in a little while."

He sighs heavily through his nostrils.

I pout, "can we just go back to sleep for now?"

Sandor takes his time to respond.

"Please, puppy-"

He flinches.

"I'm still so sleepy."

He sighs dramatically, "fine. As you wish, little girl."

I purse my lips, "I'm not a little girl."

"The don't be bratty," he quips, " or I will have you over my knee."

My eyes widen as he pushes me off. He stands and blows out the candles.

I grunt and whine when I wake. My heart was racing, as I've had a terrible nightmare. I was in the corner of a room, the scar on my hip was a wound bleeding out, and I was waiting for whatever was outside to finally come get me.

It eventually entered to do just that, slowly peeling the wooden door open with a horrible creek. A massive, molten creature scratched down the door and steps forward. My heart was in my mouth as it looked at me.

And then it lurched, and I was awake.

I was awake with a heavy weight on top of my chest. I throw whatever it was away from me, only realizing after that it was Sandor's arm.

I sit up with a gasp, and I wait for him to curse at me for rattling him. He doesn't. He doesn't curse. He doesn't wake up.

I sigh with guilt. I fix his arm, rubbing it to make up for what I did. He snores and my eyes crinkle at it.

Oh, to sleep like a hound.

I look at the window and see the sun glistening upon the outside. I turn to my the porridge Sandor had left on the table and smile. I decide to get up and head to the bathroom before eating it.

I freshen up and relieve myself. My face falls when I find red in my skirts. For a moment, I deny it. I stare and touch it, disgusted by the very real wetness that meets my fingers. I sigh and, suddenly feel tears flood my eyes. Disappointment and sadness clogs my chest. 

By the time, I change my garments and check the bed for any stains, finding none, I was a sobbing mess.

I sit beside Sandor, heaving as I look at his sleeping form. I take the bowl of porridge and eat it. It was barely warm at this point. I leave not a drop.

I could not keep myself inside the bedroom, because all there was for me here was to cry, and I didn't want to wake my husband.

I take my tray of empty porridge and head to the kitchen. Many of the servants were already awake and working at this point, and each of the ones who greeted me had their smiles faltering at sight of my face.

I rub my tear stained cheeks.

I think I want strawberry pie.

It was pathetic that I wasn't distracted by work, that the tears kept coming as I measured, and mixed, and poured, and picked ingredients to make my favorite dessert. Not the smell nor the taste of this labour, which was meant be done with love, took away from this hopelessness in my belly, the hollowness of it all.

And as concerned as Lucy, as Yannick, as Margaret, as Arron, as Polly, as anyone who saw me was, I told them only that I needed to make this pie, and that they leave me be.

I finished two by the time Sandor woke up.

I look up at him from across the room; he had called out my name. He looked small... and scared from there. I look back down at my bowl and continue to mix the strawberries for the third pie I'm making.

I feel him walk towards me. I feel him come to my side. I do not anticipate whatever he means to do. I grab my pie tin and pour the contents in.

Sandor watches. He watches me place the top layer of dough on my pie and fashion its crust.

He calls my name again. I ignore him in lieu of completing my task.

Just as I finished, Sandor takes the pie and moves it away. He grunts, "enough fucking pie."

Finally, I look up at him. He looks so... fiercely concerned, so distressed and worried. It makes me feel sick.

"What's wrong?" he whispers.

The question... spurs me. What's wrong?

"I don't fucking know," I hiss, through tears.

Everything is wrong.

Sandor is visibly shocked by my response. This may well be the first time he's ever seen me act and speak like this.

"Do not speak to me. I don't want to speak with you," I snap and walk off. My chest hurts as I do so. My legs take me outside to the gardens, in front of Daisy's grave.

I am wrong.

It seems at this point, I no longer have any tears to cry. I sob, but no tears come out. My emotions crumple me down on the soil. I sit there in dismay. The fabric on my knees are stained brown.

I hear paws pattering. Feet are running towards me. Warm fur rubs against me. There are no barks, only wet noses and low whines.

I am irritated at first, but then Sage forces his way into my lap, and suddenly, it's all gone.

I curl my legs together. The daisies on Daisy's grave were plenty now. I find myself talking to her about the three puppies in my arms. I tell her how much she would have loved them. I tell her how sorry I am for bringing her to a place where she wasn't safe.

Lilac spots something behind me and begins to bark. Judging by the wag of her tail, I knew exactly what she saw.

I turn over my shoulder and see Sandor, nervous and hesitant.

I release the puppies from my arms and two trot over to Sandor; Rose stays by my side.

"Shall I leave?" Sandor asks.

I stare at him for a moment, feeling to scared to tell him no, to ask him of anything at this moment, so I just shake my head.

He walks over to me. The pups follow and run back into my lap. Sandor sits on the ground beside me.

We sit there in silence. I feel my husband look at me, examine me, unsure of his next more. He decides to simply pet the pups and be there. I am grateful for it.

"I'm sorry," I eventually mutter, "I was horrid."

"... honestly," he mutters, "it made me think this was probably what I'm like with you."

I look at the daisies in front of me. I look at the gravestone for my dog. I look at my husband, who was stroking Rose's dark fur. I tell him, "you're not like this."

His brow darts up, "aye," he frowns, " 'm far worse."

I shake my head, "... the world has been cruel to you, my love."

Sandor's brows knit tightly, "aye, and to you." His hand moves to mine. My breathing strains when he squeezes it, "I kill people that piss me off... you bake pies."

He looks at the daisies, "I don't know what's upset you, but," he looks back at me, "if you want to bake some more... I can help."

I give him a soft smile. I shake my head and mumble, "enough fucking pies."

He sigh, "I'm sorry I-"

"It's alright. I'm tired."

He sighs again.

"... I suppose it's a good time as any to tell you..."

"..."

I drop my head on his shoulder in defeat, "I'm not with child."

I feel him look down at me.

".. there was blood on my skirt when I woke," I look up at him and press my lips into a line, "I think it's just how... it'll always be... no matter what we do... what I do..."

Sandor's brows furrow. He turns and reaches for my face. When he swipes his thumb on my cheek, my eyes water.

I chew my lip and dryly chuckle, lips quivering as I did so, "do you still want me?"

His expression tightens. He shakes it head, as if he was just struck, and tightens his hold on me, "I've never wanted anything so badly."

"... Sandor... I'm curs-"

"Then I pray I'll be fucking cursed forever."

[libertyybellls]

silver soul !

pairing; finnick odair x fem reader

summary; you’ve been reaped for the 68th annual games,as you say your goodbyes you realize the ocean is not the only thing you are leaving behind.

contains ; ANGST, sadness, unconfessed loves.

☾���｡𖦹 °✩

you’re sitting atop the smoothest rock nearing the shoreline, too close to be dry but too far to be soaked. the air is cool despite the season. something somber lays in the air- as if nature can read the silence between you and finnick.

oh, finnick.

you wait for him to speak, for him to say goodbye and let you go. let you move onto your impending doom. but he doesn’t speak- he doesn’t even move. no noise is emitting from him, you’re not even sure you can hear his breathing- the typically obnoxious huffs and puffs he exudes are gone and he remains next to you in these final moments on district 4- refusing to speak.

he’d prayed to any god that would listen for the 68th hunger games to have mercy on you. he wouldn’t give just an arm and a leg for your safety. he would give anything that belonged to him to ensure that you’d return home, back to him, back to whatever you two were in.

he could’ve crumpled to the floor when he’d heard your name called, when nobody had volunteered. why you? why not anyone else? anyone but her.

“i’ll be okay.”

you couldn’t promise that, you knew it was a lie, you’re only 16, you have nothing to depend on getting you through the games.

“i’ll be your mentor. i’ll find you sponsors. let me help you.” finnick pleads, his eyes lowly looking into yours.

it is only then you want to break into pieces in his arms. you want to sob. you want to retreat back to your family, back to his safe presence. he looks so pure with the sparkle of grace in his eye, deeply at variance to the picture that’s been painted to the capitol. his altruistic belief in you when even now, you are certain you won’t make it far in these games, gives you a rush.

you don’t respond to his desperate offers. you only look down to your lap- at your dress playing with the simple garment. you laugh breathily, “what are the odds.”

‘not in my favor’ he selfishly thinks. he may still have a life whether you win or lose this game- but will he be alive? will he have his anchor?

he shames the world, shames the capitol, shames all of the people who sat back and let you walk onto that stage, shames the game makers who would ever let you step foot in that arena. he needs you to be okay. this world is cruel, cruel to do this to his girl.

“please trust me, i will get you out of these games. you will be a victor and we can live in peace, y/n.”

he sins. he lies. he deceives. straight through his teeth. no matter the outcome you will never live in peace once your out of this. you will never be the same girl.

you think back to his own games. though he has yet to directly say his nightly terrors, his daily horrors, the acts he’s committed that he will never say as he looks into your loving eyes. the capitol has not had lenience on this boy, only a boy, but with troubles of a man.

there is no outcome of this predicament that either of you favor. no scenario in which the world grants you the rest you deserve. you want to scream, cry, pour your heart into him. let him fully consume every fiber that holds you together, all the words you’ve never yet said to him lay heavy on your heart. now it is your turn to stay silent, to lose all oxygen in your lungs, let the blood leave your face. but your voice fails you, “i trust you finnick.”

i trust that i am safe with you. i trust that you won’t let me die. i trust that i will make it back to you. i trust you.

he pulls you into him, his cheeks are wet, there’s a lump in his throat but he does not speak. he simply holds your head onto his chest- his fingers lock into yours as if that’s where they were made to lay.

your words continue to lie dormant in the back of your shared minds- but you let the angry waves speak for you. the greying sky share your sadness, the cold drops of water that reach your legs will bring you back to life- rejuvenate your soul ties. this is the peace you’ve been granted- this is all that is fair in your life.

only in this moment will he have you as you are now, in his arms, still so fragile but he holds you intact.

[theimprobableone42]

I wanted to try and write something that would eloquently sum up my feelings, but I am not sure that’s possible.

I think I have been fluctuating between every stage of grief for the last 9 hours. When I saw the news about season 3 I was not in a place where I could react. I had to pretend that it was a normal day for another 5 hours until I got home. I didn’t want to be told “it’s just a show.”

The truth is it was, and will continue to be, so much more.

Ofmd came to me at a time when I truly needed it, as I am sure it did for many others. Truth be told I think it came at a time the world needed it. When queer peoples rights to be people are being debated and criticized left right and center, when hate is filing the world around is, OFMD came in with an open embrace. It came with acceptance and unconditional love. With it we found friendship and community. It helped us find our place in the world.

I am not the same person I was when I first sat down to watch the silly little pirate show. It has left a permanent mark on me, and I hope one day I can put this energy back into the world.

I still have a small sliver of hope that as a community we can turn this around, but I am scared to set myself up for more sadness.

Simply by existing OFMD has made the world a better place. I can not express the deep sorrow I feel that it will not be able to finish telling its story. We have had far to long a history of obscuring queer stories from public view.

The last line spoken by Holmes in Arthur Conan Doyle’s stories was “someday the true story may be told.”

OFMD was one step closer. Todays news doesn’t prove the word isn’t ready, it proves that we are still being held hostage by the same structures and ideals that were in place what Conan Doyle wrote those words. OFMD was revolutionary but it shouldn’t have to be. Real or fictional, everyone deserves their stories to be told.

That’s why todays news was more devastating then “it’s just a show.” It’s another battle lost. But we mustn’t stop fighting. Not for Our Flag Means Death, not for anything we believe in.

I just want to thank everyone who worked on Our Flag Means Death for putting so much joy into mine, and countless others lives. While I am devastated it’s over prematurely, I am so glad it existed.

“Nothing’s sad till it’s over. Then everything is.” - The Doctor.