#wesley rush

[livelovecaliforniadreams]

Favorite Otps/Pairings: Wesley Rush & Bianca Piper (The Duff) "Aren't you gonna go get your crown? No, I'm gonna get the girl."

[realzayn]

[lexxwithbooks]

📖: 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑫𝑼𝑭𝑭 (𝐻𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑡𝑜𝑛 𝐻𝑖𝑔ℎ #1) 📚🪨💘

✍🏽: 𝐊𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐊𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫

[boseobrien]

OMG another teen movie where the outcast girl is tutoring the jock with a heart of gold for something in return 😭

THIS IS BOMIKA AU'S BRAND.

[mikesfilmtalk]

Haunting of the Queen Mary: Confusing Muddle

The 2023 film Haunting of the Queen Mary is a confusing muddle. A parallel storyline mirroring current action leaves to many holes to fill. There are some good moments, but not enough to quantify spending almost two hours watching the movie. The Story? Apparently, there are several gruesome murders committed on the ocean liner. The Queen Mary, a real ocean liner, barely survives a rogue wave…

[downtherabbitholewithlucy]

📸NO PHOTOS PLEASE📸

[rushmuseum]

Julia Cavanagh by Wesley Lewis for the cover series of PSM 33 / Rush Museum Publishing.

[ryukang1995]

The Blade and Rush Hour trilogies.

[wesleyscreaming]

god is real but unfortunately she only resides in the walk in freezer at the burger king i worked at when i was sixteen. tried to get her out of there but she says she loves the frozen fries too much to ever leave them

[glfc2112]

YYNOT presents Bubba Bash January 7, 2023 Keswick Theater Glenside, Pennsylvania Bubba Bash takes place on the third anniversary of Neil Peart’s death.  All proceeds go to benefit Cedars Sinai.  Check the following links for tickets and auction items. Here is the Blabbermouth article on the event.  Get your tickets before they are sold out.  It’s one event you don’t want to miss. Auction items - YYNOT.com Tickets - https://bit.ly/3FAaT6U

[fluentmoviequoter]

Carry Us

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!wife!reader

Summary: Tim carrying your son out of the hospital is the cutest thing you've ever seen, and you make sure you'll never forget it.

Warnings: so much fluff

Word Count: 1.2k+ words

Picture from Pinterest

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

“How many times is this?” Angela asks.

Angela, Lucy, and Wesley have been in and out of the hospital room several times since you arrived. Tim, however, doesn’t seem to remember how to sit down. He has paced, left, and come back more times than you can count. The moment you were given discharge paperwork, he began going back and forth to the car.

“Uh, six, I think,” you answer.

Lucy is holding your son, and you are changed and ready to go. The only thing keeping you at the hospital is Tim. He left this time to “get the car seat” so you’re hoping that he plans to leave this time.

“You’re so cute,” Lucy whispers.

“Thanks,” you and Angela say together.

“That never stops being funny,” Wesley teases as he returns. “Where’s Tim?”

“The car,” you, Lucy, and Angela answer together.

“Again?”

Lucy chuckles, and your baby reaches a hand up toward her. Wesley moves to stand beside her and extends a finger toward the blue bundle.

“Okay, I think we’re ready,” Tim announces as he returns with the car seat.

“Are you sure? Did you check the brake pads, too?” Angela replies.

“Funny. Are you ready?”

You nod and extend an arm toward Tim. He rounds the bed and takes your hand, which you use to pull him closer.

“Well, baby Bradford and I will see you around then,” Lucy says.

Tim rolls his eyes and gently removes his hand from yours. He takes his son from Lucy’s hold, and you smile as Tim’s eyes light up when he looks down at him.

“I’ll make sure to keep Aunt Lucy far away from you, buddy,” he murmurs. “She gets annoying.”

“Hey!” Lucy exclaims. “Don’t lie to him and turn him against me. We’re best friends.”

“Your best friend is a baby?”

“You know what I mean! You just called me Aunt Lucy!”

“And we look forward to seeing you at the house next week. Not a moment before, understood?”

“Angela got an open invite,” Lucy grumbles.

“Angela has kids, and we trust her,” Tim argues.

“What he means is that we want some quiet for a few days. Not that having you around hasn’t been great, we just need the downtime,” you explain. “I’ll send pictures.”

“Thank you,” Lucy says. “I have to go, but I’ll see you when I’m invited.”

“Have a good day, Lucy,” Tim says.

“Do you need anything else?” Angela asks as she stands.

“I don’t think so,” you answer. “Thank you for everything, Angela.”

She hugs you quickly before saying, “Of course. Call if you need anything else.”

You smile as she leaves and wish Wesley luck in his upcoming court case.

“Seriously,” Wesley says as he stops in the doorway. “Call anytime for anything.”

“Thanks, Wesley,” Tim says.

After they leave, you stand and Tim rushes toward you. His hands find their place on either side of your waist, and you lean against him to look at your baby boy, snug in his new car seat. He’s asleep, with a happy smile on his face, and you know Tim’s smile matches it perfectly. Seeing your husband reflected in your son is one of the best things you have ever seen, and you can’t imagine doing this with anyone other than Tim Bradford.

“Are you ready to go now?” you ask.

“I’m sorry I made you wait, I just needed to be sure everything was perfect. As perfect as it can be, at least,” Tim replies with a kiss on your head.

“I get it. Thank you, for everything.”

Tim turns you away from the car seat and kisses you quickly. He’d been at work when your water broke and your contractions grew close together, yet he picked you up and got you to the hospital with several minutes to spare before you went into active labor. The whole time, Tim was right by your side, and you’ve fallen more in love with him through each moment of your pregnancy.

“You’re sure you’re okay to walk?” Tim double-checks.

You nod and reach for the overnight bag you brought with you. Tim huffs as he gently knocks your hand out of the way. He pulls the bag over his shoulder and then reaches for the car seat handle.

“You can’t carry everything, Tim,” you argue.

“I can,” he answers quickly. “That’s what these muscles are for.”

You chuckle behind him, but when Tim raises the car seat, his back muscles flexing under his shirt, you stop laughing. Everything about this moment is perfect, and watching Tim walk ahead of you brings you joy. It’s adorable, how he glances down at his sleeping son every few steps and shifts the car seat to find the most comfortable position for both of them. You pull your phone out and take a short recording as you follow them down the hall, though you doubt you’ll ever forget this moment.

“Why are you way back there?” Tim asks as he turns at the elevator.

“Just enjoying the view,” you say. “You’re even cuter when you’re carrying a baby, you know.”

“Weird. You were cute carrying the baby, too.”

You kiss Tim’s cheek before leaning against his side. When the elevator opens, Tim keeps you against one side and your baby on the other. Though you can’t see the same adorable view as before, walking beside Tim has always been more comfortable. It’s where you fit, where you belong, and where you always want to be.

There’s a goodie bag in the passenger seat of Tim’s truck, but he shrugs when you ask what it is. The tag says it’s from the best aunts in the world, and you immediately text Lucy and Angela to thank them. After Tim makes sure the car seat is in properly and your baby is as safe and comfortable as possible, he climbs into the driver’s seat and looks at you.

“What?” you ask softly.

“Nothing. I just love you,” he answers.

“I love you too.”

Tim leans over the center console to kiss you quickly. The first few minutes of the drive, you twist in your seat to watch the back of the car seat and make sure everything looks okay. Then, you watch the video of Tim walking before you in the hospital.

“What is that?” Tim asks.

“You.”

“Why did you record that?”

“Because it was adorable, and I love both of you. Oh! We need to get a picture of all three of us.”

Tim passes you his phone and tells you to check the camera roll. Someone, Angela, you assume, took dozens of pictures of you and Tim lying in the hospital bed and looking lovingly at the baby boy in your arms. There are pictures of everyone with the baby, but a particularly good one of Tim holding him quickly becomes your lock screen.

“I love you,” you say again.

“I love you,” Tim promises. “And I’ll never stop showing you… But I’m going to need an equally ‘adorable’ video now.”

You laugh, but quickly slap a hand over your face when your son stirs in the backseat. He coos, and you and Tim smile at one another before exiting the truck to take your baby home.

[livelovecaliforniadreams]

[sunflowersandsapphires]

The Art of Persistence

pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader 

summary: After a long day, you return home to the comfort of your two favorite boys.

warnings: swearing, brief misogyny, Frank being adorable

a/n: For the lovely @zomtart who wanted to see something with Frank and a dog! As always, reblogs and comments fuel my writing!

w/c: 2.1k

“The art of love is largely the art of persistence.” Albert Ellis

Walking through the doors into the bakery, your heart sank. It was going to be a long day, you could smell it on the air. The humidity seeping through the cracks in the doors had made the atmosphere purgatorial. You could feel the heat clouding around you, the air laden with moisture only made stickier by the ovens inside. Blowing a frustrated breath out of your nose, you gave a pleasant nod to your manager as she slunk past you towards her office.

“Good morning to you too,” You muttered, stalking into the back to set down your bag.

You were rapidly approaching your breaking point. Each inhale flooded your senses with the aroma of toasted sesame and melted butter--the combination turning sour after a week of beligerent customers and stressful shifts. If you didn't need the money, you'd have called out. Unfortunately, those precious wages and tips were keeping you afloat right now.

Tossing a thin canvas string over your neck, you secured the flashy red apron around your waist with a tight knot, not minding the line of pain that encircled you as you yanked at the ends. Pinning your worn name tag to your chest, you spun on your heel and headed for the counter.

Today was a new day. It would be busy, Mondays always were, but that didn't mean it would be bad. Right..?

Lamentably, by the time the morning rush had ended and you were finally able to slip into the break room for a moment away from the chaos, you were confident today would be the same as every other day. In a period of three hours, it had all gone to shit. Two of your coworkers had called out, throwing you and the one other reliable employee to the wolves. One particularly aggressive customer had thrown a cup of scalding coffee at you—claiming it was burnt after the tiniest sip you’d ever seen. And, the cherry on top of the crappy day you were having, you'd burnt the shit out of your hand pulling a bagel out of the toaster for a family that wouldn't stop nagging you. Fuck your well-being, they had places to go.

The circulation to your legs was slowly being cut off by the tourniquet you'd accidentally tied your waist in, but you couldn't be bothered to fix it. Staring wearily at your bandaged hand your body trembled with fatigue, discomfort, and residual adrenaline. Pulling out your phone, you positioned it in your good hand, selecting the proper contact and crossing your fingers.

Please pick up, please pick up, please—

“Hey doll, did you need somethin'?” Frank's gruff voice crackled over the line, relief crashing over you as it did. Your body sagged at the question, the idea that you weren't handling it all alone.

“Um, yah, I was wondering if you could take Wes out for me? A handful of people didn't come in so I'm stuck working a shift and a half.” You nibbled at the skin on your bottom lip, hoping Frank wouldn't be annoyed that you asked him to care for your dog again this week.

You'd gotten Wesley as a puppy about a year ago, after a friend found him and his siblings abandoned in a nearby park. He was the last to be adopted, but you just couldn't deny his sweet little face. Unsurprisingly, the pair of you got along swimmingly.

The only problem arose at times like these, when your manager demanded that you stay past your scheduled end time to fulfill someone else's obligations. Wes was a good boy, but he could only hold out for so long without needing to pee or expend some energy. When you weren't there to play fetch or run around the block, you often turned to your partner for help.

You knew Frank adored your rambunctious pup, but the thought of adding more to his plate for any reason always made you guilty. He was busy, he had his own life and job and shit to do. Wes was your responsibility. Frank hadn't signed up for this, nor was he being compensated for his time. You really needed to hire a dog walker or something, that just wasn't an option given your slim budget right now.

“Not a problem, sweetheart. I’ll head to your place when I can. You know when you'll be home?” As always, Frank accepted the burden immediately, without so much as an irritated sigh. His readiness to care for you and your four-legged roommate never failed to sweep you off your feet.

“Around 6, if I'm lucky. I know that's late—” You rubbed at the back of your neck, grimacing as your fingers were met with warm, clammy skin.

“Don't worry about that, doll, you ain't the reason for that.” Frank reasoned, his patience only fueling the flames of guilt swirling around you.

“I mean, I'm pretty sure I'm the only one who could be at fault.” You laughed bitterly, swallowing the despair coating your tongue.

“No, you aren't.” Frank protested firmly. “Ain't your fault your boss wants you to stay, babydoll. You're just doin' whatcha can to stay employed. No shame in that.”

Your eyes fell closed as you let out a breath you hadn't meant to hold. Frank's response was tender, effortlessly caring, as if he was there rubbing your back and calming you down. Soothing your doubts with every syllable. He understood the pressure you were under and he never blamed you for it.

“Thank you.” You whispered, the longing you felt to be with him only intensifying as he comforted you from a distance.

“No need to thank me, honey. Just get home safe, yah?” The concerned edge that perpetually lined Frank's words tipped the corners of your lips into a smile.

“Ok.” You promised, bidding him goodbye.

The rest of your day slogged along like a fish attempting to swim through jello. Slow, awkward, and unbelievably messy. Each interaction corroded your dwindling social battery, wearing your patience thin. It took every fiber of your being to not scream right back at the customers as they demanded ridiculous things from you.

Oh your espresso isn’t coming fast enough? Why don’t you come around the counter and make it your damn self. 

Rolling your eyes at the annoyed tone of the customer begging for the drink, you pretended not to hear him as you steamed milk for another order. 

“Geez bitch, are you deaf?” 

You barely registered his muttered comment, but it struck you like a blade anyway. Fist clenching around his cup, your fingernails punctured the cheap, waxy paper, splattering the freshly brewed espresso over your work station. 

“Oh no!! I’m so sorry sir, I’ll make you a new one.” Shooting the fuming man your best try at an innocent, I’m-simply-so-ditsy smile, you tossed the ruined cup into a nearby trash can gracefully. With growing satisfaction, you took your sweet time restarting the beverage, hoping the asshole would burn his tongue the second you handed it over. 

Shoving the tiny cup across the counter, you cemented your beaming smile in place as the dude snatched it from your grip without a word. 

“You’re welcome, asshole.” You muttered as he slammed the door on his way out. A glance to the clock quickly lifted your spirits. 

Ten minutes. Ten minutes and the shift from hell would be over. You’d collect your tips and bolt before your supervisor asked for something else. 

Behind you, your next problem cleared their throat. Whipping around to face the uptight, blazer-clad woman, you raised an eyebrow. “What can I do for you?” 

Fumbling with the keys on your ring, your fingers hadn’t even lined the correct one up with the lock when the bolt thunked, the door sliding open. Standing on the other side of the frame, taking up most of your frame of vision with his broad stature, was Frank.

Tumbling into him, you groaned happily as his giant arms engulfed you, his stomach shaking with a brief laugh.

“Missed you too, sweetheart. We both did.” Pulling back slightly, Frank jerked his head to the wiggling golden retriever who was barely containing his excitement a few paces away.

Squeezing through the door past your hulking boyfriend, you knelt before your ecstatic canine, opening your arms for him to clamber into. Hugging your dog as he wriggled and chirped happily wasn't easy, but it made your heart swell with adoration every time you tried.

The way your dog reacted when you came home from work was nothing less than an ego boost. Poor Wes could never seem to keep still, too overwhelmed with joy and love that his tail swished wildly, shaking his whole body. Once you were within kissing distance, Wesley was determined to slobber all over you, reminding you just how much he'd missed you while you were away. These moments made all the hardship worth it.

Crouching behind you, Frank's hand slid beneath your raised elbow to scratch at Wesley's back, crowding in until you were fully leaning against him. You exhaled, sinking into his chest as he tugged you impossibly closer. Trailing kisses down the side of your face towards your shoulder, Frank rumbled with a chuckle as your dog plopped over the pile of legs, rolling belly up with an open-mouthed smile.

“Try as I might, I don't think I'll ever be the favorite.” Frank remarked, giving Wes a firm rub on his stomach.

“Well, I do feed him.” You snorted, scratching at your dog's ear. “Seems to be the key to both of your hearts.”

“Got that right,” Frank agreed, squeezing you tightly until you giggled. “Did your shift go ok?”

Puffing out a breath, you shrugged, turning your head so he could see your face. “Only got called a bitch once so, I'd say that's a win.”

Scoffing indignantly, Frank scowled. “Gimme a name, sweetheart.”

“Frank,” You groaned, not unhappily. “If I let the Punisher loose on every asshole that came through the shop, we'd have a massacre on your hands.”

“I'd do it anyway. They deserve it, treatin' service workers like that.” Frank grumbled, nuzzling your cheek.

Your hand slid up to the base of his scalp, twisting the edges of his hair in your fingers. “I appreciate it, handsome. But I'm ok, promise.”

“Did ya make good tips at least?” His question was genuine, his expression almost hopeful, but you barked a laugh anyways.

“Take a guess.” Your voice was bitter, thinking of all the ungrateful patrons you'd had in the last twelve hours.

“Hmm,” Frank pondered. “Twenty?”

“Fuck Frankie, I wish.” You rolled your eyes. “Two bucks.”

“You're shittin' me.”

“Unfortunately, my dear, I am telling the god's honest truth.” You laughed humorlessly.

“Two bucks. Fuckin' hell.” Frank scrubbed a hand over his face, clenching his jaw as his anger roiled deep within. “I'm so sorry, doll.”

“Me too, Frankie.” You pouted, feelings of inadequacy mingling with the fear of being utterly stuck in this dead-end job. “I hate asking you to help with Wes every damn day. You deserve better.”

“Hey now, don't you go worryin your pretty little head about me,” Frank scolded gently. “You're the one who don't deserve to be treated this way.”

“Don't have much of a choice, do I?” You wondered aloud, shoulders curling in as you descended back into hopelessness. “I need this job.”

“Then you'll stick with it for now,” Frank proposed. “And I'll help ya find somethin' better in the meantime.”

“You don't have to do that Frank,” You objected, letting him slip out from under you and offer you a hand up.

“I know I don't have to, darlin'. I want to.” Kissing your lips tenderly, Frank cupped your cheek as heat rushed to your face.

“Thank you.” You murmured, chest tightening with emotion.

“Anytime, gorgeous.” Frank winked at you, bringing a smile back to your face.

A piercing squeak caught your attention, drawing it towards the floor where an impatient Wesley displayed a plush toy you didn't recognize.

“Did you buy him a toy?” You asked Frank, knowing grin creeping over your face as the man blushed bright pink, shrugging one shoulder. Bending down, you tugged at the arm of the wooly sheep, pretending that you were grabbing it for yourself until Wesley ran off, squeaking it victoriously.

“Needed somethin' to do and he seemed bored, so we took a walk to the pet store on 45th.” The embarrassed man mumbled, rubbing at his nape and averting his gaze.

“Aw, Frankie,” Winding your arms back around Frank's tree trunk waist, you peppered kisses across his face. ”That's so sweet of you.“

“It's nothin', really,” Frank stated matter-of-factly.

“Sure, tough guy. It's nothin',” You smirked, clenching your arms one final time before gripping his hand. “Come sit, we can order dinner and play with Wes.”

Planting a firm kiss against your hairline, your scalp tickled as Frank smiled. “Sounds like a plan.”

Taglist: @marytheweefrenchie @cheshirecat484 @siampie @xxdrixx @gracethyomen @pone21 @ignore-mp3 @screechingphantommaker @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @paradox-brody-chase @msjb2002 @vsplanet @pigeonmama

[mae-gi-writes]

Finders Keepers | Gally [TMR] - Part 7

In which Gally gets soft for one of the boys in the Glade, only…is it a boy? alternatively; In which Mai disguises herself into a boy to fit in the Glade, only to be suspected by the keen eyes of the Builder's Keeper.

taglist: @edynmeyer1 @ss28 @kurowvie@vaugarkel@marikittt @angelfrombeneth @undeniableadrenaline @persiar9 @ss28 @sage-burrow @ripleyswife @kikiay

Also available on Wattpad.

--

PREVIOUS | NEXT >>>

As it turns out, peace never lasts in a place just like the Glade.

It's a few days after Chuck's arrival and the Runners have been out since dawn to map out more areas of the Maze, but when Minho and Ben had made it back during the midday break, the other two Runners — Wesley and Kai — had still been missing. This only led Mai to pick at her fingers as she gazed anxiously at the maze entrance. She hadn't spoken much to the two, considering that Gally's presence by her side always deterred Gladers from striking up conversation, but she'd always served them breakfast first. She knows their faces, can hear their voices at the dining table if she squeezed her eyes hard enough. And the thought of not seeing these familiar faces causes a knot to form in her stomach.

"What if they don't make it back in time?" She asks Frypan as they are preparing dinner. Tonight is stewed beans and rice with a side of omelet and tomatoes from the gardens. The flavorful aromas are already simmering in the pot, whistling softly in the background and not helping Mai's nervous fingers tapping onto her chopping board.

"They will," Frypan's voice is filled with certainty. He clearly doesn't seem all too stressed about them not making it.

But the hour comes up and still there's no sign of them. Mai's heart starts thudding like a crazy horse and unconsciously her teeth starts gnawing on her bottom lip so hard that she draws blood. So worried she is that she decides to abandon Frypan for a moment so that she can find Minho.

He's by the Keeper's huts, poring over what seems to be scribbles onto pieces of scrap paper with Alby by his side. They both look up and the asian young man quickly crumples up the sheets in his grip.

"Hey Greenie," Minho says with forced joviality, "what's up?"

"Your Runners are missing," Mai states plainly, "why aren't you looking for them?"

There's a distinctive glance that occurs between the two Gladers standing before her and something niggles at the back of Mai's mind. They're not telling her the whole truth, she feels it like an ache in her bones. Something about the shifty way Minho's eyes avoids hers and how Alby lets out a sigh of what seems to be exasperation.

Or exhaustion. Either way, it's clear that there's more than what they're offering to tell her.

"They'll be back." Minho finally says with a jerk of his chin, "they'll make it."

"What if they don't? Why can't we send out a search for them?" Mai gestures towards the Maze with impatience, "You know this Maze by heart, you--"

"It's not that simple Mai," Alby cuts her off before she can continue. His mouth presses down into a thin line, "they'll be back. Just trust them a little, yeah?"

In the end, it hadn't mattered. Two minutes before the doors are due to close, Mai's ears pick up on the sound of shouts. Or more specifically, a desperate yell that echoes across the whole Glade and causes all Gladers to drop whatever they're doing in favor of sprinting towards the Maze doors, where the sound is coming from.

Mai rushes forward, trying her best to see through the throng of tall bodies that surround her as she hears Kai shout out, "Call the Med-jacks! We've got a Runner down!"

"What's wrong with him?" one of the gladers ask as some come to the rescue, lifting his limbs to carry him towards the hut. Mai tries to follow, scrambling and stumbling over rocks as she does.

"He's been stung," Kai's voice shakes with emotion and Mai's heart crumbles. She stops dead in her tracks, gazing at the backs of the group as they carry the injured boy towards the Med-Jacks. She can still see the traces of blood in the grassy path that had been stomped over by boots in the process. It's salty and metallic, the smell making her want to vomit the contents of her lunch.

Later on that evening finds her sitting alone at a nearby table after everyone's had their fill of dinner, scooping up the contents of her stew before dropping it back into her bowl. She has no appetite, she finds. Not after having witnessed such a scene earlier on. Her stomach twists and bile rises to the back of her throat just by thinking about it.

Her thoughts keep running a mile an hour; Is Wesley okay? What does that mean if he's stung? Can he be cured? If not, will he--

"Hey Greenie?"

Mai's head shoots up just in time to blink at Gally's curious gaze. He looks down at her, eyebrows raised as he takes in her countenance, before sliding into the seat opposite her.

"What's wrong?" he tilts his head with a frown as his hands come up to his lips. He's just showered, blonde locks licking across his forehead and cheeks flushed from warmth.

When she doesn't respond, Gally presses his lips together and looks away, "it's Wesley, isn't it?"

Mai nods, not trusting herself to speak. She scoops another spoonful of stew before swallowing thickly, only to murmur out, "what happened to Wesley?"

She hasn't wanted her voice to come out so tiny, like a murmured whisper barely above a breath, but the tremor in her voice gives her away and Gally's expression softens slightly.

He takes a breath, "he's been stung," he states it as bluntly as he can, knowing that it won't do any good to hide anything from her, "that's what happens when a Griever gets to you."

"Are they--Is it--" Mai can't find it in herself to ask that question aloud and thankfully, Gally understands and quickly finishes it for her, "deadly?"

The girl nods, eyes dimming when the Builder merely nods in return. When he speaks next, his voice has softened to a murmur, "I don't think I've heard of anyone who survived the Sting."

"What will happen to him?"

Gally's hand goes up to rub at his chin, "he's going to get banished." he finally says without meeting her eyes.

"What?" Mai shoots up in her seat, "why would they do that?! He's one of our own. He belongs to the Glade--"

"Not anymore Mai," Gally interrupts firmly, "Gladers that are stung are dangerous. They go crazy, they can kill you. And we can't take that risk."

"But that's--that's illegal, that's not human--"

"It's what makes it safe here."

Disgust coils in her stomach. Mai shoves her seat back, suddenly not hungry and with the need to scream, to shout, to rip out her own hair in frustration, "you guys make me sick," she spits out in a hiss, "I can't do this."

"Mai, wait--"

But it's too late. The girl storms away after having dumped her entire food tray into the kitchen sink and disappearing into the darkness before Gally can do anything else. The Builder sinks down into his seat with another sigh, one of his hands rubbing the back of his neck in tiredness.

He can understand where she's coming from. It's a shock at the very beginning, to learn about such drastic measures. But it's necessary and Gally believes in them.

"I suspect the princess she-bean isn't too happy to learn about the way we do stuff around here?" comes an accented voice and Gally can't help but let out a small smile when Newt slides into the seat once occupied by the said girl in question. Newt shoves a spoonful of stew into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully as he gazes at his friend, "she'll get round to it eventually. Like everyone else does I suppose."

"It's the rules, she'll get over it," Gally replies, "she just doesn't like violence."

"Neither do I Gal," Newt responds quietly, "but we don't have a choice there, do we?"

"No," Gally says, "I suppose not."

------

Knock knock knock.

Gally's eyes fly open. His head turns towards the door, frowning as he realizes it's still dark outside. Probably early morning. Whatever shank deciding to wake him had better be worth it.

He's more than surprised when he opens the door to be greeted by none other than the she-bean herself.

"Greenie?" A small yawn escapes him, "what're you doing here?"

"I—I can't sleep," she shuffles her feet looking like a lost puppy and when her eyes flit up to his he swears he feels his heart squeeze in his chest. God she's cute when she wants to be, "can I come in?"

Gally steps back silently for her to duck through the door before closing it behind her. The girl looks around uncertainly, not quite knowing where to place herself in Gally's space.

Adorable. He clears his throat and shakes his head, "sit."

He motions towards the bed and after a few seconds of hesitation, Mai does as told. He follows soon after, making sure to leave some space in-between.

The way Mai is picking at her fingers with a sudden bout of nervousness has him thinking that maybe there's something about the Banishment and the stung glader that's running around in her head like clockwork. It's etched across her features, the worry and the apprehension of having to come to terms with the reality of the situation. Gally knows it all too well, he's spent months grappling over what is right and what is wrong, and what he needs to let go to a certain extent. Mai is just starting to discover the ugly truth behind the Glade. 

"What's wrong?" he prompts when the girl says nothing still. Her eyes are fixed on the door before her, gaze blank and in a daze. 

She blinks back to reality upon hearing his voice, turning her head to face him. In his bed she looks even tinier in comparison and part of him wishes to engulf her in a hug at the uncertainty, the hopelessness flickering across her face. 

"I--I can't sleep," her teeth find purchase onto her lower lip that she chews on, "I keep thinking about Wesley and how he didn't have to get stung. How he could've been alive if he hadn't gone into the Maze." 

"That's why the Maze is off limits to Gladers," Gally replies, "only the Runners get to go in there." 

"But what if these creatures--" she frowns in thought and he prompts, "grievers?" 

"Yeah. Grievers. What if these grievers walk through the Maze doors? Have they ever done that?" 

"The grievers stay in the Maze. No one's seen 'em apart from the Runners. We hear 'em though." 

The girl shivers, "I don't like this," she admits softly, "I don't like that we have to banish people." 

"That's how we're kept safe," Gally lets out a sigh, "it shuckin' sucks but it keeps us alive." 

"Would you banish me?" she looks him straight in the eye then, "If I got Stung?" 

It takes Gally a moment to reply. Surprise comes first, follows by a rush of grief and desperation to keep her safe. Just the thought of her in the Maze makes him edgy. He opens his mouth, closes it, then opens it once more to say: 

"You won't get Stung Greenie," his words are soft and tender, the tenderest she's ever heard him be, "I won't let you." 

"But that's not your choice to make Gally." her gaze is determined and firm, unblinking on his figure, "so would you?" 

He leans forward with a frown, "would you?" he asks instead, "what if I'm the one that got Stung? What then?" 

"I wouldn't." 

Her answer is straightforward. Simple. Yet, it causes something to stir in his chest. Gally swallows, exhales a soft breath as he looks away, unable to keep on gazing at Mai without wanting to do something to appease her or just make the situation better. 

"So you'd rather I kill you then?" he shakes his head, a grim look taking over his features, "you don't know what you're talkin' about Greenie. It's not that simple." 

"I'd never Banish you Gally," Mai says with sudden ferocity as she leans closer to his face, hands pressing down onto his bedspread, "you're my friend. I could never do that." 

Gally can't help but blink at her like he's seeing her for the first time. Her words ring out between them like a promise, a beacon of light that rams into him so unexpectedly that his chest aches with the sudden rush of emotion that courses through him. A wave of warmth trickles into his stomach, making heat rise through his cheeks at Mai's sudden confession.

Shuck. He could kiss her. 

The thought rams into him with such force it makes it hard to breathe. No!, he yells at himself, he's just being emotional. That's all! Nothing else to it! 

Which is probably why he says: 

"It's late," he quickly turns away from her and tries his best not to stutter, "we have to sleep."

He plops down onto his side, not caring about whether Mai is going to share is space or not, and turning away from her in order to wrap his arms over his chest, hoping and praying that she can't hear how his heart is pounding through it like a set of drums. 

"Gally," He can sense Mai peering over his shoulder with that confused, doe-eyed look she always gives him whenever she's clueless about something. It makes his fingers ache to pinch her cheek, "did I--did I say something wrong? I'm sorry if I offended you, it's just--"

"No," he cuts her of abruptly, "nothing's wrong. Just go to sleep, Greenie. We have a long day tomorrow."

Another sigh is heard. A second later, he feels Mai's warmth brushing against his back and squeezes his eyes shut. It's fine, he tells himself, it's fine. You've done this before. She's a friend, just like anyone else in the Glade. 

But he knows himself better than this. Who is he kidding? The feeling is there, pulsing underneath his skin and filling his veins up with want. He doesn't want to admit it to himself, had tried denying it for the longest time. The thing is, it had been easier when he thought of Mai as a guy. He could easily dismissive it for brotherly affection, or just a passing urge. But everything changed once Mai confessed about her true identity. 

Now, Gally can't even keep her out of his thoughts even if he wanted to. She's just there, forever waiting, forever plaguing his brain like an echo of a poem that Gally knows off by heart even if he doesn't want to.

In other words, he's shucked. 

[boseobrien]

What cause why are Bianca and Wes giving sm chiles rn?? "You look handsome" why would he tell her that and mean it 😭

[axen-gers]

even in death

fred weasley one shot

fred weasley x slytherin! reader

warnings: mentions of fred dying, george being depressed, afab reader, grieving/grief, slytherin reader

It was rather noticeable that someone was missing at the Weasley's dinner table.

There was a rather tense silence that was held over the table while everyone glanced between the two people who had been blaming themselves since getting back home.

George Weasley had his head between his hands. His leg was shaking violently while he stared into space. Fred was never meant to die. Had George of been there, he would’ve pushed Fred out of the way. Fred had something to live for.

Fred had you.

Now George was left to manage the shop by himself. He was no longer a twin.

George Weasley was no longer a twin.

That realization had him standing up in a rush before heading up the stairs to his childhood bedroom. Molly Weasley followed up after her son, giant tears gracing her cheeks as she rushed after him.

Now the focus was left on you.

You and Fred had been an unlikely couple. You were a Slytherin. The enemy as Ron had called you when he first met you in his first year.

Fred Weasley had always been in love with you though.

No matter what his parents told him about your family and its reputation. He still loved the way you smiled and how your eyes shined when you talked about something you liked.

Fred Weasley was gone though.

There would be no more nights talking about teaching at Hogwarts. There would be no more nights of stolen kisses and tears of joy. There would be no more talks of having children and getting married.

Fred Weasley was gone.

You were left with his family, in the first house you felt safe in. You were supposed to become a Weasley.

Fred Wesley was gone.

The only fragment left of him was currently sobbing in his mother’s arms sitting on his twin's bed upstairs. His sister and brothers had their partners wrapped in their arms as if that would keep them safe.

It reminded you of being in school, being the only person who wasn’t asked to the yule ball until Fred asked you the night before. It reminded you of never going to Hogsmeade with someone on Valentine’s Day.

Fred was always there to make you not feel alone.

But even in death, Fred Weasley was still there holding you in a ghostly grasp making sure you never felt alone.