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#Love letters
words-at-night · 3 days
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mjlovescm · 11 hours
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Being with Spencer means getting lover letters on the regular
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There was something so poetic about Spencer. He paid attention to the small details and never let you forget that he loved you. Although you could hardly remember the day you told him you'd never received a love letter, you do remember the day he gave you the first of many. 
It was a bright yet cool morning. Spencer's apartment was chilly, but no match for your oversize sweater also belonging to him. The sheets are soft yet empty, without his body beside you. Work had again taken him away in the early morning hours. Spencer was as quiet as he could be when getting ready, but the lack of warmth is what wakes you up. 
Yawning, you stretch the sleep from your body, spreading yourself on the large bed. You reach for your phone on the nightstand, yet your hand is greeted by something else. 
At first, you're amused to feel the warmth of the clear plastic, but it's quickly replaced. You pick it up and revel a single red rose, breakfast, along with a cup of coffee and water. A breathy chuckle leaves you, nervous and excited at the same time. Breakfast in bed was something Spencer had made you accustomed to, but a white envelope sealed by wax wasn't. 
As you picked it up, you could feel the quality of the paper against your fingers. Spencer was a man who preferred things an older way, so no surprise his love letters wouldn't be modern. Thoughts raced through your mind as you could feel the weight of the envelope or, more so, the paper inside of it. You wondered how many pages it contained and what those themselves contained. 
Spencer was an educated man who had a way with words, no matter the subject. But just thinking of all the lovely things he wrote had your heart racing. Hesitant, you're slow to break the red seal, but once it's broken, your hands are quick to release the paper. Taking a breath, you calm yourself before reading. 
Dear, love..
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deloveusion · 1 day
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anneliakk · 1 day
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la-novellista · 1 day
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irradiantflux · 21 hours
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yourlovelyspace · 9 hours
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Even if I try really hard 💝
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singinthegardns · 22 hours
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Il privilegio di saper stare bene da soli, ti regala quello più pregiato: di poter scegliere con chi stare.
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halfapoet · 2 days
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Everything in the world has become yours. The moon reminds me of the times we walked under it together. The colour white reminds me of how much you love it. Grass reminds me of how you love walking on it, barefoot. My hands remind me of how perfectly they fit in yours. My eyes remind me of how I long to see you.
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lithium-poet · 2 days
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D told me about his high school today. It’s a standard catholic high school in a small town nearby, with almost no social media presence and a website that was probably very cheaply designed in the late 2000s.
I scavenge for any clues he may have left from his youth like a starving animal searching for prey. I went through the poorly organised website, and there was something in me that made me click on the uniform shop. I discovered that their uniform is surprisingly similar to ours (well, there are only so many ways that a plaid skirt, a shirt and knee high socks can vary). A disgusting thought crossed my mind.
Dear D, I wonder if the way I wear my uniform reminds you of your first love in high school. I imagine her in an untucked shirt and a rolled up skirt and the same knee socks that I wear, leaning on the wall of the music room the way that I do every day.
And I then imagine you at my age, locking yourself in your bedroom writing abstruse songs for her on that old cranky piano, completely unaware of the passage of time. I imagine the way you talked about her in your bassist's basement when you'd have practice, the way you looked at her during theatre rehearsals, and the way you gathered up your courage to ask her to go to the formal with you.I imagine you working at your summer job as a cashier saving up for a guitar, feeling lost about your future and scared of the passage of time, being the first to get your drivers license in your friend group and driving your friends around blasting alternative rock, and it made me cry.
He was once just like me too.
I took the liberty to indulge myself in hypothesising his adolescence and thought of the lyrics to Lana Del Rey's Text Book.
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𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒, 𝒶𝓇𝒶𝒷𝑒𝓁𝓁𝒶
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beaboniim · 3 days
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the love i hold in me is too much for my heart to hold. (that is why my chest aches when i look at you)
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mournfulroses · 6 months
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Frida Kahlo, from a letter wr. c. January 1925, featured in The Letters of Frida Kahlo: Cartas Apasionadas
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deviika · 1 year
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— William Chapman
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ervotica · 5 months
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“shhh, shhh..I know, I know..” with finnick pls 🥺
pairing: finnick odair x fem!reader
warnings: this takes place after the poison fog, r is badly injured and finnick takes care of her
hunger games masterlist
You twitch against Finnick’s chest in the tall grass, rough like sandpaper against your wounded face. You’re covered head to toe in blisters from the fog, eyes half lidded as you begin to lose consciousness from the pain.
Katniss’ strangled wail is muffled and far away in your ears and you barely register the words.
“The water! The water helps.”
You drag yourself from where you’ve collapsed on top of your fiancé; crawling along on your elbows, you make it a couple of feet at most before you’re exhausted; your entire body is burning, skin raw, every little touch flaring up every nerve ending inside of you.
There’s a rustling next to you as Finnick is lifted and dragged to the shallow pool of water a few feet away; there’s a splash and a gurgled scream as Katniss and Peeta start to clean his blistered skin.
“Finnick,” you gasp, your concern for him overriding the searing pain for a split second. “Finn,” you croak again, eyes heavy.
It’s quiet for a minute, the only sound the whispering of leaves brushing against each other. All the while you lay face down, trying to peel your eyes open where they feel like they’ve been superglued shut.
Thick fingers pull at your jaw and your head turns; your neck is stiff and the touch feels like the lick of a flame against your bulging wounds.
“C’mon,” It’s Peeta. “Gotta get you to the water.”
“It’s okay, I’ve got her,” comes Finnick’s voice and his hands pull you up by the armpits. You hiss and squirm away from his hold, the skin on skin contact causing too much pain.
“I know, honey, I’m sorry.” He speaks in that soft voice you love, the one reserved just for you. “It’ll feel better soon.”
He lowers you into the water and you scream. It’s a pain unlike any you’ve ever felt before, white-hot and scalding. It’s like you’re bleeding from every pore.
“Shhh, shhh… I know, I know.” He winces as the blisters start to lodge free from your skin and you relax, sagging in his arms.
“‘S better,” you slur. Your eyes snap open as you grapple for purchase against Finnick’s neck; your thumb rubs circles into his cheek. “You’re okay? You’re sure you’re okay?”
He laughs, incredulous that even at a time like this, he’s where your worries lie. Pointed teeth glare back at you as you thumb at his bottom lip and smile.
“I’m fine. Just worried about you.”
“I feel better. I’m okay now.”
His muscular arms engulf you, wrapping around your waist now it’s finally safe to touch you again.
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irradiantflux · 20 hours
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Atticus, LVOE: Poems, Epigrams, and Aphorisms
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yourlovelyspace · 1 day
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Most probably 💝
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