#i'm not here to persuade you otherwise right now

[ky-the-squiddy]

Every so often I come across people going on about 'queer is a bad word, I'm not a terf but we shouldn't use that word in community/academic/etc settings, don't call me queer' and just

Okay

You're not queer

I won't call you that, no one should call you that, and anyone that does is being an asshole regardless of their identity or minority status. It doesn't matter what reasoning you have behind not wanting to be labelled as queer, what trauma you may or may not have, what you've identified as in the past and present, and whether or not your preference just comes to not liking the vibe of the word for entirely inscrutible reasons. No one has any right to pry.

If you say you're not queer, then you're not queer, and that's okay.

It just also means that if I, a queer person, talk about the queer community, then I'm not referring to you. If an academic refers to queer history and queer texts written by queer people about other queer people, they're also not talking about you. If a corporation starts using 'queer' in their ads then they can eat shit because fuck 'em, they have no fucking right to use our words when they aren't and have never been one of us, but if a well-meaning ally uses 'queer' as a one-syllable shorthand for LGBTQIA+ in a verbal conversation, then there's no reason for you to get any more annoyed at them as you would if they used the word 'gay' instead.

You have every single right to be labelled or not labelled as you like, and I will stand behind you all the way. If someone is trying to shove 'queer' on you when you really don't want it? Then I will happily, metaphorically, deck them in the face for you. We are still family, whatever you choose to call yourself, and it's important that we stick together.

But

If you aren't queer, and you get frustrated when you see queer people talking about the queer community, take a deep breath, and consider:

They aren't talking about you

[fandomwritingbit]

Sweet girl pt.3

dad's friend William Afton x (fem) virgin reader

synop: Reader goes over to William's to pick up where they left off. Pacing? Who's that?

pt.1 - here. pt.2 - here.

warnings: smut (oral and grinding? dry humping but not dry, idk what you call it), coercion, inappropriate relationship, age gap, generally creepy William.

A/n: Happy new year's! Thought I'd get something dirty out to prove I'm still alive and kicking, hope you enjoy! I have no idea if it's good because I hate everything I write at the moment lmao x.

On your walk home you see him before he sees you. The pang of excitement in your chest is so strong it winds you as the sensation travels down lower, settling in the part of you that screams for attention when William is around. You should keep your head down and slip unnoticed up the steps to your house, but the trouble is that you want to be noticed. You’ve been high on the memory of last time, desperate to feel it again. So you stop still, fiddling with the hem of your skirt and looking over your shoulder until eventually you pluck up the courage and cross the road.  

He’s doing something to his car, checking the tire pressure or something, still wearing his smart clothes from work. His head turns as you approach, the slow smile spreading across his face as he realises it’s little you, here to see him, has your head spinning already. 

“Hi…” You start, your voice tiny and uncertain.

“Hi?” He grins at you as he stands up, pressing the tip of his shoe into the tire and seeming satisfied with the result. “You come over here just to say that?” William looks you up and down, another pretty little skirt showing off your legs, you must be doing this on purpose. Still though, you coming to him and seeking him out is a good thing, progress towards you becoming his pet. 

You blink, hating that he almost instantly makes you feel like an idiot, especially given that you can’t seem to summon the faculties to prove otherwise. It’s pathetic how your face is flushed already as you struggle to figure out a response, why did you come over here? It’s stupid really, you’ve come to see him with the hope that, like last time, he’ll steal you away and corrupt you a little more. But you can’t exactly admit that. 

“Uhh. I don’t know why I came over… sorry.” Is the sentence you mutter just to try and end the awkward silence that was blooming as he waited expectantly, and you know it’s daft the second you say it. 

He laughs, which makes you feel doubly idiotic. “I’m only joking, sweetheart. You came over because you want to pick up where we left off the other day, right?” Your eyes go wide at his bluntness, shame doesn’t seem to be an emotion he’s ever come into contact with, instead it feels like you end up getting his share of it. 

As sweet as you look all embarrassed and hesitant, he lets you have some reprieve and changes the subject, “Are your parents expecting you home?” Now, as naïve as you are, you do know that that question actually means ‘are you free to disappear for a while?’, and it fills your stomach with butterflies.  

And again the tiny devil on your shoulder persuades you to go along with him. “No. No, they don’t know what I’m doing.” You dare to look him fully in the eye then and the intention in them has your core burning.

“Then you have to come in for a bit.” His hand rests on your lower back as he guides you towards his front door, already struggling with the urge to tear that skirt right off you. 

After getting inside, you look nervously over your shoulder to see him closing the door, that familiar excitement sizzling in your veins, and when he turns to see you looking all small and scared he can’t resist teasing you. “God, sweetheart, I can read you like a book. You’re nervous, huh?”

Rubbing your arm you avert your gaze, “I mean, yeah, a little.” The scoff from him shows that you’re not doing a great job of being convincing. It upsets you a bit that you can’t act all sexy and brave because you are lost in what to do, but you can tell that he likes that, and that feels very dirty. 

“Oh, you don’t don’t have to be.” He moves closer to you and you battle with yourself to not move away, you shouldn’t be doing this, you shouldn’t have done this before but you can’t help it. “I told you, we’re going to have fun.” He raises his eyebrows on the last word, and despite how overly sweet his tone is it does nothing to combat the intimidation of his bigger frame, now close enough that you swear you can feel his heat. His hand raises up to toy with the collar of your shirt, resting just above the curve of your breasts. 

The grazing touch is like ice on your skin, making goosebumps appear everywhere they’re able. “I just-” You blink in surprise at yourself talking, unsure when you decided to speak, “I don’t think I’m ready to uh… you know-” He does, in fact, know.

“Fuck?” He puts you out of your misery, the word crass enough to make your answer visible on your face. It sounds natural coming from him but you could have though of a million other ways to say it. “That’s what you’re scared of?” His hand moves up to tilt your chin to face him, his thumb resting over the plump of your bottom lip. “Listen, that’s not going to happen 'til you really want it. More than you clearly already do.” He was right, you do want it, you’re wet, your panties sticking to your core in a shamefully eager way.

You nod slightly in some form of acknowledgement but it’s cut short when he kisses you, the thought instantly evaporating from your head as he takes control of you. It’s that simple, his mouth on yours, his hand taking in the shape of your hips, that’s all it takes before you’re lost. You’ve been kissed before, had your share of grimy teenage make-out sessions, but this is insane, it gets more so when his tongue invades your mouth, stealing some pitiable noise from you. Instinctively you press against him, your hands tugging at the fabric of his shirt like you’re afraid he’ll stop. 

Pretty quickly his grip on your waist dips down, fingers slipping under the waistband of your skirt and beginning to pull it down, your hand stops him. He pulls away, “You gonna let me see you? Huh?” He’s asking but still touching you, the other hand plucking your shirt and lifting it from your skin, watching your expression. You bring your lip between your teeth, nervous but still able to hum some agreement. Your shirt soon comes over your head and the skirt slips from your feet, leaving you feeling very exposed under his gaze. 

He takes half a step back to take in the sight of you in your bra and panties, “Now, who are these for?” He asks, aroused-tinted mockery coating the words. You’re not sure what he’s talking about until he flicks the strap of your knickers lying over your hip. 

“What?” You flinch when the material pings back against your skin, the amusement in his eyes a little mean-spirited. “N-no one.” You manage to remember to respond, only making him grin. 

“No one? This skimpy little bra and panties, for no one?” You know he’s taking the piss but you can’t help but pout at the mockery, your brows furrowed when he moves, still chuckling, to kiss your neck. He’s slightly unshaven and the scruff against your skin has you squirming, your hand finding a natural place on the back of his head, fingers lacing and pulling when he bites an aching kiss right where your neck meets your shoulder. It’s the blazing kind of pain that only lasts a moment, but the pitiful moan from you would have anyone thinking otherwise. 

It’s that pretty sound from you that forces him to briefly lift you onto the long table just next to his front door, pulling your bra down to flick his tongue over your nipple whilst roughly grabbing the other. He feels a little bad for you when you whimper from his touch, remembering that he should be a bit nicer to you really, so he takes himself away from your tits, dropping down to his knees. You firmly press your legs together in response, but when his warm hands land high on your thighs, you let him slowly pull them apart, revealing the wet spot on your panties.

You watch him still biting your lip, anxious of what he was going to do. He smirks up at you and you’re so distracted by it that his sudden contact with your core makes you jump, he traces the shape of your pussy over your knickers, dragging over your clit and then up higher to catch the edge of the garment. You help him pull them down by lifting yourself from the table, shivering when he leans in close, his breath making your pussy clench. 

“You poor, pretty little thing.” He sniggers, just the sight of your cunt has precum leaking from his cock. You watch idiotic as he slowly drags his tongue over your pussy, the sensation completely foreign but something you instantly fall in love with, evident in the way you moan. He maps out the path from your entrance up to your clit with his tongue, giving himself something to think about later. This perfect untouched cunt, sweet as fucking honey all for him; the thought has him grabbing himself over his trousers, giving his cock some much needed attention, as he focuses his action on your clit. It’s like he knows exactly what you need, because he finds the right rhythm immediately, slowly circling your nerves in a way that has you writhing above him. 

He has to hold your thigh to keep you still, the mixed feeling of this intense stimulation and the dull rub of his facial hair could give you whiplash. You’d be so embarrassed to see yourself right now, pathetic moans and whimpers tumbling from your lips as you fall mercy to the insane building of pressure in your core. It’s like a flame on gasoline, a sudden, scorching need to cum that burns your legs all the way up to your chest. He grunts into your pussy, making you open your eyes for the first time in apparently ages, just to see him stroking his cock, turned on from making you dumb. 

“God, fucking look at you.” He stops his sucking of your clit to speak, leaving you hanging in such a devastating way you want to cry. “It’s very hard not to give this cunt what it fucking wants.” The sharp words have your walls clenching, only proving his point. Without warning he stands, still holding your legs open, and taps his cock against your core, the idea of him fucking you seems very real and very scary right now, especially with how big he looks. But you want it, you really fucking want him to do anything to you he wants, just as long as you can cum.  

The precum dripping from his head clings to your slick as he slides his cock down, digging delightfully against your clit before notching at your entrance, sharply glancing at your watery eyes. He’s a man of his word but fucking hell, he wants to feel that tight little hole around him. He grunt as he moves up again, sliding his cock through your folds, grinding it against your bundle of nerves and reigniting the climb to your peak.  

“Come here.” He mutters as he pushes you down slightly on the table, catching your legs and lifting them up to press your thighs together, holding both your ankles in a firm grip. He continues rutting against your cunt, your thighs creating a slick grip for him, almost as good as the real thing. Your too concerned with the rearing of your climax to think about how fucking lewd this is, this older man thrusting against your pussy and you’re enjoying it, it’s maddening. But you don’t really care, not when your walls flicker with waves of pleasure, squeezing around nothing as your legs begin to shake. You cum hard enough to lose your power of speech, instantly overstimulated by the continued pressure on your clit. 

When you cum he loses it, your wet heat and desperate hands grabbing what parts of him you can reach, needy for him, is intoxicating. You feel him move your legs apart again, letting them fall to his sides, taking hold of his dick and stroking it til he finishes. A gasp leaves your lips at the filthy sensation of his cum coating your pussy and lower abdomen, you can hardly believe it’s real and not the end scene of a dirty video. 

“God.” He groans, taping his cockhead against your pussy just to make you flinch. You just whine in response half in the odd sense of calm after tumbling over your peak, but half in self pity for the stickiness between your legs. You watch as he fixes himself, very aware that you're still slumped on the table but unwilling to move. 

“Come on.” William says through a smirk, you look a right state and he prides himself on his good work. “You'll have to get cleaned up.” He takes your arm and pulls you forward 'til you land on your feet, now very aware that your bra is clinging on for dear life and the rest of your clothes are in a heap on the floor. 

“I'll just grab my-” You start, indicating towards the pile, but he cuts you off. 

“You're in no rush, shower first. Worry about that later.” You probably would have protested but he guides you forward, turning a corner and entering a bathroom. 

“Thank you.” You say a little uncertainly. Yes, it's nice of him to show you where things are and let you get sorted before turfing you out; yet something about the glint in his eyes screams ulterior motive. He leaves you to it, all sorted with a towel, and disappears to make sure your panties end up in his pocket where they belong. 

Pt.4

[leebrontide]

A legit way to fight the climate crisis from where you're sitting right now

As promised, in honor of Earth Day, I've written some suggestions for how you can write a letter to the editor for your local paper, and reach some people who otherwise might get a more...shall we say restricted view of climate news. Letters to the Editor remain a surprisingly important political vehicle. People see letters to the editor and they feel like they're hearing from their neighbors- real people with authentic, down-to-earth agendas. They're the second most read part of the paper, after the front page. Take that stage!

Step 1- Pick an article in your local paper to respond to. Today is Earth day, and lots of papers will have at least something about climate crisis or environmental protection on it's pages. Local papers are better, because, as you can imagine, papers like The New Yorker get a lot more submissions to compete against, and anyways they don't have the same sense of local opinion.

Don't fret if your local paper leans conservative! That means it has readers we REALLY need to reach! And they may be more open to reading about these issues in a paper than online, which particularly a lot of older, don't feel like "the real world".

Step 2- Figure out what you're going to say! Maybe there's a glaring error in the article you want to address. BUT, if you're not sure, you can look up your local organization that's fighting for these goals. For example, I could look up and find MN350, because I'm in Minnesota. Going to their social media and their webpage/newsletter archive gives me an inside look at what people who are really immersed in these subjects have to say about what's going on.

So, for example, I see that my local group applauds Minneapolis's efforts at going to all clean energy, and has a timeline, but that people on the inside are saying that without a dedicated funding stream, people implementing these changes will have to either hope federal funding stays stable or fight for funding in the city council every year. Ok, now when there's an article about Minneapolis's plans, I have something to say.

Step 3- Draft it up.

The goal here is to be short and to the point.

Opening line: Identify which article you're responding to, and maybe your feeling about it.

First paragraph: What is the specific issue? What is a relevant fact and why does it  warrant public concern?

Second paragraph: What would you say that we do in response, or what would you ask your neighbors to do?  Why?

Third paragraph: What is currently being done to address the issue and how could people who have been persuaded act?

This should be no more than 150 to 250 words TOTAL.

While you're wording it, some things to keep in mind- stats and facts are good, but don't use a lot of acronyms or jargon. Expect your readers to be coming at this with about an 8th grade education.

If you have a sense of what the people you're talking to find persuasive, lean into that. For example, for my letter to the editor, I emphasized that chaotic funding leads to lack of ability to plan ahead or bulk-buy. I know the people I'm talking to like things to be common-sense and detest governmental waste, so that's an easy one.

If you want extra help, I have a list of best practices for communicating about the climate crisis right here.

Step 4- Proofread, then submit it via whatever process your local paper has. The goal, if you can manage is, is to submit something within 48 hours of the original article's publication. That's the sweet spot for most papers.

BONUS ROUND!

You did that, and still have a little energy for the environment left? There's one more thing you can do to super-charge your effort!

Guess what, you can stack the deck in favor of your specific letter being published.

But it will involve using a phone.

That's right, if you REALLY wanna turbo boost this thing, you're gonna call the paper (or have your non-phone-adverse-friend or family member pretend to be you and call the paper).

Call as soon as possible after the editor would have received the material.

Use pleasant persistence to speak with the right person. Don’t stop at a receptionist or secretary. Create enough POLITE urgency about your letter that you get through to the specific reporter or editor who will decide whether or not to print your piece.

Provide the editor with specific local info and urgency. Focus your conversation on why this issue is relevant to their readers.

Get specific feedback and/or a specific commitment from the reporter. If they don’t want to print the letter, find out why and what adjustments you can make to get it printed.

If they agree to print it, find out when you can expect to see it in the paper. The you can tell other people. Even if memaw isn't a big climate activist, she might show your letter to everybody she knows if she knows you wrote it.

And that's the process! I know that's a lot of information to throw at you, but ultimately, it can be pretty quick to crank these things out. And, again, these have been proven to be powerful persuaders. We need as many people as we can to be in this fight, so go and get them!

And always remember, you're not just combating ignorance, you're combating hopelessness, helplessness, and burnout! You can inspire people to think about what's possible.

PS if any of you actually do this, please let me know. It'd make me so happy.

@onbearfeet @basil-gardens @punkypine @rederiswrites @veritatemquarens @radioraja

[southerngothicchic]

Promises in the Dark

18+

Your eyes linger on the dingy neon lettering that read 'Prairie Inn,' on the faded sign. The equally dingy 'Vacancy' right below it seemed extra depressing tonight, just taunting you with the false prospect of actually having guests check in. You didn't know why you had to sit perched behind the dusty front desk, surrounded by so much wood paneling every night, when it would all prove to be done in vain.

You tried to convince your parents to sell the place and move away, to literally anywhere else, other than middle of nowhere North Dakota. They always refused, since it was a family business and they wanted it to stay 'in the family.'

Despite what they envisioned, this wasn't how your future was going to play out. Once you had enough saved up, you were getting out and possibly not looking back, at least not for a while.

Other than them, you didn't really have anything keeping you here...unless you counted a certain sheriff's deputy that had a crush on you.

You knew you never should've humored him, but you could only resist his dreamy brown eyes for so long.

You'd drag him into the back office for heated make outs, with him whining how you should just open up one of the rooms so you could have some real fun. You told him no, several times, out of some looming fear that you'd get caught. Which, he always tried to persuade you otherwise, but you didn't waver.

That was, until tonight.

You sit, with a huff, behind the front desk, already over everything while your shift had just started. You then pull your phone from your back pocket and begin endlessly scrolling.

For such a mind-numbing activity, it did make the time pass quicker, as it was soon 11 P.M.

You know he should be here soon, as he always stops by during his patrols of the area. Antipation courses through you as you've missed him more than you thought you would. You find yourself actually missing that stupid vape that seemed to be attached to his hand. He's so irritatingly cute, sometimes you couldn't stand it.

You turn your attention back to your phone, getting lost in scrolling once again, when you hear the ancient door creak open and the footfalls from heavy boots. You glance up to see him blow a cloud of vapor in front of him, as he approaches you. You roll your eyes, not wanting him to see how much you missed him.

"Evenin' gorgeous," he greets, leaning against the desk. "How's your night been?"

"Oh, you know, another thrilling night at the Bates Motel," you snark, gesturing to your surroundings.

You each share a laugh, as he nervously shifts his gaze from yours.

"I have to say, I don't like you being here all alone," he begins, "there's a lot of bad people out there that could take advantage of a pretty thing like you."

"So you tell me, literally every time I see you," you dismiss, with another laugh. "I think if some horrible thing was meant to happen to me, it would've by now."

"Hard to say, the world's just gettin' worse and people are gettin' crazier," he counters, "who knows what could happen on any given night."

"Are you trying to scare me, Tillman?"

He bristles at you using his last name.

"Just stating what could happen is all," he defends, glancing at you with those eyes.

"Well, I really shouldn't have anything to worry about because you'll be here to protect me, right?"

He smirks while you playfully bat your eyes at him.

"That's right, honey, nothing's gonna happen to you with me here," he says proudly.

"I'm so lucky to have such a big, strong man looking out for me," you then tease, knowing it really gets him going.

It's his turn to roll his eyes, before he leans closer to you.

"Make fun all you want, but I'm gonna show you just how big and strong I am," he breathes, his voice low.

"Oh really?"

He nods. "Now, c'mere, I've been dying to kiss ya all day."

He reaches for you and places his hand on the back of your neck, pulling you to him.

You let him, as you've been wanting the same thing.

His lips are surprisingly soft as he kisses you slowly. The tiniest moan escapes his lips when you deepen the kiss. The chill of the night is soon forgotten as he's consumed with the warmth radiating from you.

"I knew you missed me," he whispers, as he nose presses against your cheek.

"I did," you breathe, ghosting your lips over his.

"You wanna get us one of those rooms tonight, honey?"

"Gator..." you whine.

"Please, honey? Just think how good I can make you feel..." he continues, as he presses kisses to your cheek.

His kisses are dangerous, as you're considering giving in.

"You're the worst," you say, after breaking the kiss and pulling away.

His smirk returns as he watches you take the master room key out of a drawer. You slide it into one of your back pockets, followed by slipping your phone in the other.

"Lets go, loverboy," you say, as you take his hand and lead him out of the office.

You forget how cold it was as you hurry out into the night. Gator quickly pulls you to him, trying to shield you from the bitter wind. You each walk through the half melted snow, to the nicest room in the motel.

A half faded, gold 5 marks the door as you slide the key card in the lock. It clicks open and you eagerly pull him inside, wanting to get out the cold.

The room itself is almost as cold and dark when you feel him press your back against the door. His lips are on yours again, this time kissing you hungrily. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him even closer.

"I knew you wanted this too," he breathes, as his lips move to your neck. "Fuck, I've wanted you for so long, baby."

You just whimper at his words as you feel his teeth scrape against your skin. He plans on leaving a sizable hickey, so everyone will know you're his.

Your hands are already clawing at his bulky vest, the feeling of him suckling on your skin almost too much.

"Tell me you want me, too," he then breathily commands, with his eyes meeting yours.

"I want you," you breathe, gazing at him helplessly.

With that, he lifts you up, into his arms and carries you to the bed. He gently lays you down before beginning to take off his clothes.

The faint light from the neon sign shines through the thin curtain, illuminating him as you watch him undress. His movements entrance you, until he reminds you that you should be taking off your clothes as well.

Blushing, you quickly pull your sweater over your head, revealing a black bra. You then lean over to take off your boots, before emptying your pockets, on the nearby nightstand. You slide your jeans down your legs then discard them, on the floor.

You lay back against the pillows, waiting for him to pounce.

He stands, just in his boxers, as he looks at you.

"So pretty..." he breathes, taking them off and climbing onto the bed.

He presses his lips to your ankle, then alternates between each leg, as he kisses his way up to your thighs. He smiles as you writhe underneath him.

The sensual way he's kissing you is a welcome surprise. Knowing that he possesses such tenderness makes you weak.

You whimper as he nips at your thighs, unable to keep from squirming. He then presses his mouth to your panties, pressing his tongue against the fabric.

"I bet you taste just as good as you smell," he says, looking up at you.

You throw your head back against the pillow, before he rips your panties from your body.

He wastes no time tasting you, as his tongue laps at you, feverishly. Your hands are immediately grasping and pulling at his slicked back hair, while moaning his name.

"You taste so fuckin' good, baby, better than I dreamed," he pants, as he devours you.

You close your eyes, as your legs begin to tremble, only for them to reopen as you whine when he pulls away.

He slithers up your body and hovers his face over yours.

"What's the matter, baby?" He asks, his voice dripping with condescension. "Do you need more?"

You let out a frustrated sigh, before pulling him into a kiss. He smiles before licking his way into your mouth, wanting you to taste yourself. The kiss becomes messier as your desire intensifies.

"You don't know how many nights I've dreamed about this..." he breathes. "And how you were dripping on my tongue..."

He pauses to kiss you again, with his tongue easily parting your lips. A low moan rumbles from his throat, before he continues, "You're the perfect girl, and you deserve to be fucked like one."

You actually gasp, against his lips, while he grins. He glances down as you instinctively spread your legs. You each moan as he eases himself inside you.

"Gator, I-its-" you breathe, arching your back.

"You can take it, honey, I know ya can," he assures, as he pushes all the way in.

You dramatically exhale when you feel his hips against yours.

"Fuck, you're so tight..." he grunts, "don't know how long I'm gonna last."

You move your hips, urging him to move, as your hands grip his shoulders.

"I'll just fuck ya nice and slow," he says, pulling halfway out, before sinking back in.

You're already back to moaning his name, which he can't get enough of.

"How's that, baby? Good?" He asks, loving how you're already this blissed out.

"So good, don't stop..." you answer, as he leans in for a kiss.

He moans into it when he feels you wrap your legs around his waist.

"You've wanted this as much as I have, huh?" He adds, with his lips trailing kisses down your neck.

"Y-Yes, oh God..." you sigh, as he fucks you deeper.

"I can tell from how you're squeezin' me, fuck..." he breathes, fully burying his face in your neck. "I wanna fuck you all the time, after this...you're mine now...all mine."

"Gator..." you whine, meant to be a form of protest, but too lost in pleasure.

"Say it," he commands, before biting the top of your shoulder.

"I'm yours!" You then yelp, your nails clawing at his back.

"Promise me..." he breathes, as he pushes your bra strap down, his lips mouthing along your skin. "Promise me that you'll always be mine..."

Your mind is almost too hazy to comprehend what he's saying, too far gone to form words. All you can really do is whimper as he places wet kisses across the top of your breast.

"Don't go all quiet on me now. I thought you liked me..." he says, looking up at you.

"I do-"

"Don't ya want to be with me?" He asks, kissing his way up your neck.

You whine his name again as he sighs.

"That's not a real answer, honey," he scolds, nuzzling his nose against your jaw.

"Yes, I want to be with you," you reply, exasperation evident in your voice.

He smiles, his eyes meeting yours, even in the darkened room.

"Then ya better fuckin' scream for me," he whispers, before roughly thrusting into you.

His abrupt change of pace makes you gasp and cling to him even tighter as he presses a sloppy kiss to your lips.

Sweat drips from his forehead onto your lips, when he pulls away. He watches as you then swipe your tongue across your lip, before smiling. He moans and fucks into you even harder, making you finally come undone around him.

His hips stutter, for a moment, as you cry his name, with your nails digging into his skin.

"Fuck...you're so beautiful baby...I'm gonna-"

A loud, obnoxious moan reverberates through him as he spills inside you. You're both moaning as he fills you so full, you can feel some of it seeping out.

He collapses onto you, engulfing your body with his. He's panting, harder than before while you lightly scratch his back.

"Holy shit..." he breathes, raising his head to meet your gaze.

You then pull him into a kiss, not wanting him to say something stupid and ruin the moment.

He eagerly reciprocates your kiss and you just lazily make out. He does eventually pull away and say, "I meant everything I said, I want you to be my girlfriend."

"We shouldn't, though. What about your dad-?"

"I don't care about what he thinks," he replies, his hand cupping your cheek. "I just know I wanna be with you. Like, show you off around town and take you on dates and stuff."

You smile. "I guess being your girlfriend wouldn't be so bad..."

"I'll be the best boyfriend you've ever had," he grins, "and you already know that the sex will be good."

"True," you laugh.

He kisses you again before you say, "I hate to do this, but I need to get back to the office."

"Its ok, I should go, too," he replies, giving you one last kiss before sitting up.

You both have dumb smiles on your lips as you redress. He slips his hand into yours as you walk to his patrol car. He pulls you into a tight hug, as he feels you shivering.

"I don't wanna leave you," he pouts, as you pull away to look at him.

"Why don't you come back in a few hours and we go get breakfast?"

A smile instantly forms on his lips.

"Ok, so like a date, then?"

"Yes, like a date," you say, playfully rolling your eyes, before smiling in return.

"See ya later," he breathes, pulling you back to him for a lingering kiss.

"See ya," you echo, against his lips.

You watch, still with a smile, as he leaves the desolate parking lot, before hurrying back inside the motel office.

You resume your place behind the desk, this time with a dreamy look in your eyes. You check your phone, and relief washes over you as there's no missed calls or concerned texts from your parents. You sigh, leaning back in the equally ancient chair, unashamedly excited for breakfast with your boyfriend.

[bloodynereid]

Rulebreaker

pairing: warren rojas/rhodes x fem!reader

a/n: there is a criminally low amount of warren fics and daisy jones & the six fics in general so I'm trying to rectify that. also I listened to the Aurora album on repeat when writing this so if you haven't listened to it already go do that. requests are open for all characters if you want to send anything in. i also love chatting with all of you so send in ur opinions or thoughts :)

tw: mentions of period typical misogyny, cigarette smoking, swearing

description: the night you met warren rojas, all of your rules fly out of the window.

Y/N: Being a female producer in the 70s was… how to put it delicately… absolute shit. But I tried my best. I had a list of rules to live by: don’t date anyone related to my job, never stay later than 7pm, always have more than one person in the room with you and never drink on the job. Not even coffee. I broke most of those rules the night I met Warren Rojas.

It was 9pm (rule break #1) and you had just finished mixing one of the last songs for an album you were going to show George tomorrow. You were about to head home with a cup of coffee (rule break #2) you had snatched from the snack room when suddenly one of the doors to the recording rooms slammed open and a whole gang of people poured out. The noise had startled you so much that the cup in your hand sloshed and hotstingburnoww the liquid fell onto your hand.

“Shit!” You had realized in the last moment that your little expletive caught the attention of the last people milling out, a curly haired guy and one of best known producers of the time, Teddy Price, otherwise known as your mentor. “Oh hey Teddy.”

“Y/N! I don’t think I’ve seen you here this late before.”

“Just had to finish mixing a song you know me.”

“Oh I do. That’s why it’s surprising.” You rolled your eyes with a smile and then looked over to the man standing next to him.

“Who’s the new band? Haven't seen them around here before.”

“The Six. This is Warren Rojas, their drummer. This is Y/N L/N, she’s one of the best producers out there.”

“You flatter me too much. It’s nice to meet you, Warren.”

“You too.”

“Either of you need a ride? I’m heading out soon.”

“Nah I’m fine. I’ll just go with the band.”

“Yeah I’ve got my bike.”

“You parked close?” Teddy asked with his usual protective tone.

“Just a 5 minute walk.”

“I would walk you but I’ve got to finish looking over some tapes.”

“I’m heading the same way. We can go over together.”

“You sure?” You asked as you took a sip from your coffee.

“Yeah, I’m sure the band can wait.”

“Great. I’ll see you two tomorrow.”

“Bye Teddy.”

“See you.” 

You and Warren set off to navigate through the maze of recording rooms and offices. (rule break #3) He had lit up a cigarette and when he offered you one, you graciously took it, throwing out the finished coffee cup.

“So if you don’t mind me asking. Why do you call yourselves the Six if there’s only 5 of you?” Warren laughed and looked at you with a smile.

“I honestly have no idea. Something about there already being too many iconic bands with the number five in them.”

“Right well, I can’t be one to judge anyway, I can't even sing.” 

“I can’t either so I think we’re on the same playing field here.” You laughed and nudged his shoulder. So he was funny on top of being ridiculously attractive.

“So how did you get into producing?” And he wasn’t being a anti-feminist asshole, unlike SO MANY people in this industry.

“Well I liked music and I would record demos for my brothers when I could. It was honestly just pure luck. I met Teddy when I was interviewing to be a secretary here. He taught me some of the ropes and then persuaded the big bosses to hire me. I really only produce for smaller names but… it’s my passion, you know.”

“As part of a smaller name, we appreciate your help.” He said with a mischievous smile whilst wiggling his eyebrows.

“Oh shush. So I guess now it’s only fair to ask how you got into The Six?”

“Well, Graham got us into this band when we were like 14 and then he persuaded his brother, Billy, to join. Then some random dude convinced us to head out here and try our luck with Teddy Price so here I am. We actually used to be called The Dunne Brothers and then we changed it for some reason, I think we all collectively decided against that name one night at a diner.”

“Well if you’re getting produced by Teddy then you have to have at least a modicum of talent.”

“Don’t know if I should take that as an insult or a compliment.”

“Take it as you want.” His eyes flickered under the streetlights as you made your way out onto the street. Warren Rojas has a majestic quality to him and well, he was also nice and exactly your type. Okay so maybe rule number #1 was meant to be broken.

“Warren! Hurry up man or we’re leaving without you.” A man yelled from one of the parked vans. He was leaning out of the window and pushing on the car horn.

“Well it seems my luck is still going strong cause that’s my bike.” You point at the black motorcycle that is parked next to the colorful van. He sent you a beaming smile as you both wandered over to where your separate vehicles lay.

“So will I be seeing you again?”

“We work in the same building so probably.”

“You know what I mean.” I stamped out the cigarette and winked at him.

“I might come around to see how you sound tomorrow.”

“I’ll be sure to be playing the drums to the best of my ability.”

“I'm sure you’re supposed to be doing that anyway.” You smirked at him as swung your jean clad leg over the motorcycle and twisted the key in the ignition.

“Warren!”

“Yeah yeah, one second. Give me your arm.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Because you’re really pretty and I want to give you my number.”

“How do you know I’ll use it?”

“I’m taking a gamble.”

“It seems like you take a lot of those.” 

You held out your arm anyways and let him scribble down his number in black ink. Your helmet went over your head after he finished and you looked down at the list of numbers with a little heart next to them. So he was a sap as well.

“I’ll be seeing you, Warren Rojas.”

“I sure hope so, Y/N L/N.” You smiled and gave him a little wave before revving off. But not before you heard a last: “Warren! What the hell man I’m starving over here.” Which made you chuckle.

Y/N: I ended up going to that recording session the next day. And the next and the next. Teddy even let me mix a few of the songs. I also wrote down his number immediately after I got home. I’m pretty sure I still have the receipt where it’s written on somewhere. Anyways I ended up breaking that first rule after the tour. Warren asked me out when we were surfing. Actually I was surfing and Warren was trying to. God that was a beautiful day.

Warren: The sun was just about to set and I had given up trying to surf so Y/N and I were just sitting on our boards watching the sky turn different colors. We had been friends since that night Teddy introduced us and I was obviously attracted to her. But it was then when I realized I was in love with her. I ended up asking her to marry me at that exact same spot a few years later.

Y/N: I immediately said yes, both times. Warren and I just work. He is like a part of me I can’t bear the thought of losing.

Warren: I love her with my entire self and more. I can’t see my life any other way. I think one of the greatest things that came out of the band was not just the music but it also led me to my soulmate.

Y/N: Rule breaking is really one of the best things I could have done. I met my other half and worked with people I would consider my family. Sometimes plans just aren’t meant to be followed.

Y/N Rojas is one of the top producers in the music industry. She shared producer credits with Teddy Price on Aurora and has gone on to produce some of the biggest names in the 80s and 90s. Currently she lives on a houseboat with her husband, Warren, the former drummer of Daisy Jones & The Six and their twins, Teddy and Karen. She owns a music label (Reconstitution Records) which will be producing the newest album of the reunited band, Daisy Jones & The Six.

hopefully I did Warren justice cause it's my first time writing for him

taglist: (lmk if you want to be added to the warren taglist or general daisy jones & six taglist)

@pinkdaiisies @just1riqht

[mistress-ofmagic]

Around the Realms in 80 days - chapter 22

Pairing: Reader x Loki

Story summary: You have fallen through a portal during the convergence into Asgard and come face to face with Thor, and his brother Loki. With no way to return, you must travel with the two men and their hoard of asgardian soldiers to get back home. Things get from bad to worse when you have to share a tent with the god of mischief himself.

Notes:

Okay I don't know if any of you guys are still out there and still wanting an update for this story but I'm providing one anyway! I really do hope that you're still with me (and if you can't remember what happened that feels like a good time for a re-read right??)

Read this story on a03!

find all parts to this story on Tumblr here:

You’d had better days, you mused. 

Better weeks, months, years…

“If you continue pulling that face it will get stuck and you’ll get wrinkles” Loki chimed behind you. 

You glared up at him, scowling even harder out of spite. 

He grinned down at you.

After Loki’s admission two days ago, his mood had been…interesting. He had stayed beside you in the hospital when he could, but he kept swapping between being distant and being close. 

No real change there then, you thought.

You hadn’t brought the whole being a frost Giant thing up again, despite your thousands of questions in case you pushed him too far and he got annoyed with you and decided to stop visiting. 

Now however, he seemed to be in a good mood although you felt that had more to do with the fact he was currently pushing you around in a wheelchair. 

His eyes had lit up when the nurses had suggested it, despite the fact you felt well enough to walk really and for most of your journey you would just be in the lift anyway. You had protested multiple times but now Loki had got the idea in his head there was really no persuading him otherwise.

“Isn’t this nice?” He asked, too jovial for your liking. 

You put your tongue out and rolled your eyes when you thought he wasn’t looking. 

“I saw that you little chit.” 

He rocked the wheelchair like he was going to tip you out. 

“LOKI!” You yelled, gripping to the sides of your chair. 

The lift attendant had looked pale when you’d first stepped in, and now he looked rather green.

Loki roared with laughter. 

“Oh come on darling, you really think I would throw a vulnerable maiden out of her chair?”

Before having to face that your answer to that question might actually be no and that you knew Loki would never do anything to hurt you, or the fact that this was the third time he had called you darling, the doors of the lift opened onto the floor where you were meeting with Stark and the Avengers. 

Apparently Tony had wanted to wait until you were a bit better before doing a debrief on what had gone down on Muspelheim.

Loki wheeled you down small corridor and into the large meeting room. Like many of the rooms in Stark towers, the windows were completely glass and looking down onto the city below. It was as far as being outside as you had got in the past few days and you stared out, longingly. 

Distracting you slightly from the view, was the Avengers sat around the table. Thor was there of course, as well as Captain America, Natasha and Dr Bruce Banner. A smaller cohort that had welcomed you in when you had first arrived. 

Natasha seemed to assess you with cool eyes, but Bruce shot you a sympathetic look which you felt was a lot to do with the fact you were wearing a very cool and flattering nightie with Shrek’s face all over it as it was the only thing that could fit over your bandages. 

Loki wheeled you into a space that had been left chair-less for you as he took the one next to you. 

Tony gave you a tired smile.

“How you feeling kid?”

“Better thank you. And thank you for the care on your wards too!” 

He brushed you off with a wave of his hand. 

“I suppose I should thank you for saving Rock of Ages life too.” Tony shot Loki a disgruntled look. “He is helping us with this situation after all.” He said, as if he wasn’t particularly happy about it. “Its nice to see you taking your babysitting duties very seriously, although next time I’d appreciate it if you stay away from certain death, he’s not worth it.” 

Loki gave a half shrug, “that’s one thing we agree on.” 

You scowled again. 

“Plus now you are officially hired as a member of my workforce, it reflects badly on me.”

You snorted, “If the babysitter club ever want a new member i’ll be the first in line. And don’t worry, I have no desire to face certain death ever again.” 

Although I would save Loki again, a little voice in your head added that you pushed down into the depths of your subconscious. 

“So, Wonderland’s still with us, but we still no nothing about the current alien threat to Earth.” Stark said gloomily. 

“Well, we found out Surtur’s made some sort of deal with someone to er…cause something.” Thor supplied.

Stark pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Next to nothing then. Natasha?” 

She shrugged. “Nothing at any of the reported sites, no sign of anything coming in or out.” 

“We did learn that they are taking humans for something.” You piped up. 

Everyone stared at you and you immediately regretted speaking at all.

“One of the fire demons told me.” You mumbled.

“Is there no help from your…lot?” Steve asked to Thor. 

“Sadly, Ragnarok is a myth across the other realms too, not just on Midgard. There will be many that don’t take it seriously seriously. And, no one would be bothered enough about a few missing humans to get involved in an intergalactic war.” Loki shrugged. 

Stark scoffed “A few?”

He pulled up a page a hologram of various news stories over the past few weeks, of humans going missing, seemingly vanishing without a trace. 

It was worse than you thought, and it seemed the rates where going up by the day. 

“The fire demon I spoke with, he told me I could go with him, somewhere where they could make me more powerful.” You spoke again. 

Tony and Bruce swapped concerned faces. 

“Did he say anything else?”

“No, not really, just promises of a greater future or something.”

“Well it might not be much but, good work.” Steve said, and flashed you an all American pearly smile and you blushed in spite of yourself.

“Yes, Latte has proved herself to be truly courageous on this trip.” Thor agreed. 

“Oh well, I don’t know about all that.” You murmured feeling your face burn up. It was only an accident anyway that you had found anything out, it’s not like you’d stormed up to a fire demon and demand he speak to you. 

Nevertheless, you were only a few beats away from kicking your feet and giggling but you refrained yourself.

Loki muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like “suck up” and you glared at him, taking a long swig of water to cool yourself down. 

“You reap what you sow kid, I’ll be recruiting you to do further missions with Loki if you’re not careful. Who knew the worlds rudest goth could make friends? And a lowly earthling at that.” Stark challenged.

You tensed. You weren’t really 100% sure if Loki actually did consider you a friend, or if he would take offence at the insinuation. 

But Loki leaned back in his chair, “We are friends, friends with benefits.” 

You choked on your water and it spilled down Shreks face as Thor gave you a pat on the back that nearly sent your lungs through your mouth. 

While you recovered no one knew what to say, Steve and Bruce looked alarmed, you weren’t sure if that was at Lokis statement or the fact you had spat out half a glass of water and Starks mouth was hung wide open, his eyes open comically large, Natasha looked mildly amused.

“Its not…” You said between coughing. “That’s not true…Loki…Loki doesn’t know what that term means…he…he can’t….”

You turned to him.

“Where did you even hear that being said?” You spluttered. 

He narrowed his eyes at you. 

“You deny that we are friends in front of Stark and his goonies?”

“I’m not denying were friends Loki, I’m denying were friends with benefits. That doesn’t mean what you think it does it means something really specific on Earth. What…What benefits does our friendship bring?”

Loki shuffled in his seat “Well…you have taught me how to use a midgardian communication device and I have taught you…”

You cut him off “Great, expect thats not what friends with benefits means here it means…” You blushed heavily again. 

“It means friends who…” you tried again. 

Loki was watching you carefully with an eyebrow raised, the corner of his mouth starting to twitch and your uncomfortableness.

“Friends who fuck.” Natasha finished off helpfully. 

You felt your face grow even redder if that were possible. 

“Ah.” Loki said, in a measured tone although you thought you noticed a very light blush across his pale complexion. “I understand now that that might have been misleading.” 

“Well thank God we cleared that up.” Stark sighed, “I thought we were going to have to admit you to the psych ward instead of the burns ward.”

You stared down to avoid eye contact with Loki, feeling a bit awkward. 

“What’s the plan?” Steve asked. 

“Asgardians?” Stark aimed at Thor.

“We won’t get anything more information from Surtur…”

“The people of this planet are disappearing! Into thin air! And some Alien thingies are the culprit! How can I be the protector of the human race if I don’t even have any leads!” Stark yelled. 

Thor and Steve swapped looks. 

“There might be more information we can gather across the other realms” Thor shrugged, “If the true enemy behind this is thought not to be human then they could potentially come from another Realm.”

“We would have no idea where to start though, it’s not like the nine realms are a small area to cover.” Loki argued. 

“Doctor Foster does a lot of research into the nine realms, will she have any information for us?” Tony asked Thor hopefully.

“I…I can ask her to see what she has found.” Thor placated. 

“In the meantime, we have our best scientists searching the skies for any sign of alien invasions.” Bruce added. “Tony I’m sure we will find something, we’ve got people going to sites where people have disappeared and looking into traces and signals that have been left behind, something is bound to flag up. And the researchers will keep monitoring the fire demons.”

Stark sighed. And you got a feeling that until this thing was settled he was never be satisfied, knowing the people of Earth were in danger. 

“Meeting adjourned or whatever… I need a fucking drink.” 

                                                                         ***

“13 down, 7 letters, a drawing intended to explain how something happens.” 

“Diagram?” 

Oliver nodded, writing it down. 

“Okay… 5 across, 5 letters, spaghetti for example that’s got to be pasta…what about this one, 8 letters, endurance.”

“Stamina? No wait, that’s only 7…patience?” 

“Yeah, has to be.” 

It was the day after Starks meeting. Loki had wheeled you back into your hospital room after the meeting and then he’d had to then leave pretty sharpish, stating he had something he needed to do although you wondered if he still felt awkward about the whole friends with benefits thing. Then again, you wondered if Loki ever really felt awkward about anything, or if he was immune to embarrassment.

After the meeting you had been so damn tired that by the time he’d wheeled you back you’d been nearly asleep. The meeting was the most you had done since the attack and it had exhausted you. 

Plus you were still pretty drowsy from all the pain medication you were on. You’d expected him to call over a nurse but instead he’d actually gotten you the medication you needed and then to your extreme surprise, he’d picked you up from your chair bridal style and put you into bed. 

You were almost too sleepy to have noticed what was going on, but shockingly you were certain he had left a featherlight kiss on your forehead before he left. 

Maybe you had imagined it in your sleepy state, after all he hadn’t been in to see you today.

The nurse had visited today and checked you over, changing your bandages. She had assured you your burns were healing nicely, and Loki’s fast thinking of applying his cold skin to your stomach and chest had saved most of your skin resulting in you only needing a smallish emergency skin graft.  

You’d also been joined by Oliver, who had come prepared for the nurses recommendation of resting as much as possible by providing cross-words. 

“You’re pretty good at these.” He gave his lopsided grin. 

“Symptoms of a misguided youth I’m afraid. I might not have gone to Harvard but I am pretty nifty with a crossword.” 

“Harvard’s overrated.”

“Alright for you to say Mr Ivy League.”

Oliver chuckled. “Wait this is a cryptic one, it says ‘to tantalise the left is a plant.’

“Huh? Wait let me see.”

Oliver stood up from the chair and brought the book over to you. He perched himself on the edge of your hospital bed and you moved over to give him more room.

“Do you need any more medication?” Oliver suddenly asked. 

“I should be good thank you.” You smiled at him. 

Man he was so sweet. Loki had done the same thing yesterday but still. It was nice to have someone else here who cared about you. 

You caught his blue eyes. He had nice looking eyes you noticed, but they missed the tint of green you were used to seeing in Loki’s eyes. 

Actually, why where you thinking about Lokis eyes at all?

Oliver placing his hand over yours on the bed brought you back to the present moment. 

“I was thinking, maybe when you’re feeling better I could take you….”

Before Oliver could finish his sentence, the door to your room opened and Loki strode in. 

Loki took in your close proximity to Oliver, and the fact you were holding hands and his eyes narrowed. 

There was a moment of awkward silence, and for some reason your natural instinct was to jump back sheepishly from Oliver. Despite having no reason at all to feel guilt, you still felt…something.

“I had come to see how you were faring, but I see you have company already.” Those blue/green eyes you had just been thinking about were harsher than you had seen them in a while. 

“We were just doing cross words.” You said, lamely. 

Instead of keeping your mouth shut you continued like an imbecile. “Erm were stuck on a cryptic one if you wanted to help…”

“And intrude on this…personal moment.” He sneered.

“That wasn’t…I mean we were just…” You started and then sat up further in bed, trying to look authoritative, which was harder than you might think for someone attached to an IV drip. “Actually I don’t have to explain myself to you.” 

“Oh, I see.” His voice was cold, and it felt like the room got colder too.

“What do you see?”

Loki ignored you.

“Get out.” He directed at Oliver. 

Your temper started to rise.

“Hey, he doesn’t have to leave we were in the middle of something.”

“Look, um maybe I should just go.” Oliver spoke up squeezing your hand before standing up. 

“I’ll leave the book here for you for when you get bored. I hope you feel better, I’ll come visit again soon and bring some more stuff.” He gave you a quick kiss on the cheek. 

Kudos to Oliver, he walked past Loki out of the room without crying or screaming.

After he had left, Loki breezed into the room and arranged the flowers at the table at the bottom of the table like he hadn’t just yelled at your friend to leave. 

“Dude what is wrong with you?” You directed at Loki. “I am allowed to have friends!”

He rolled his eyes. 

“He clearly wants to be more than friends.”

You made a funny noise in the back of your throat. You wouldn’t be totally against Oliver having more than friendly feelings, a distraction from these insane feelings for Loki that keep creeping up out of no where might be a good thing, right? 

Not that you had any feelings for Loki, obviously.

Loki studied you closely before clearing his throat. 

“Are you and this mortal…friends with benefits?” 

“Loki!” You glared at him.

His facial expression remained calm as he continued staring at you.

“I’m simply asking."

“No! No, God I wish you had never learnt what that term meant. Also I am sleeping next to you every night where would I find the time?”

“Yes, you are aren’t you.” He said, too smugly for your liking. 

“Although I do have every right to explore…you know, that side of things with someone if I want to.” 

His eyes narrowed again, and stood up taller.

“We are in the middle of a crisis here. Is now the right time to be engaging in a dalliance?” 

“You can’t be serious!” You said indignantly. 

“I’m being very serious!”  He matched your tone. 

"Are you giving me a lecture right now on my love life?” When he didn’t say anything you continued. 

“You don’t even care about humans, why are you even bothered about this crisis suddenly?”

“You’re being ridiculous, you can’t seriously mean to engage with this… mere mortal. ” 

“I’m being ridiculous? You’re being ridiculous! In case you forgot, I happen to be a mere mortal too!”

Loki kind of did look taken a back for a second, as if he had actually forgotten that. 

“What I get up to is not even any of your business.” You told him

“Fine.” He sneered, walking towards the door.

“Fine!” You shouted back. 

He slammed the door behind him as you threw your puzzle book at him. 

“Ah!” You screamed to yourself. 

The cheek of that asshole to have a go at you for letting yourself engage in some dating when he was the one that slept with Ylva while you were touring around Asgard. 

You tossed and turned around in your bed, but eventually the drowsiness kicked back in and you managed to fall asleep. 

                                                                     ***

One moment, you were fast asleep, the next moment you heard an explosion. You sat up quickly, disorientated and confused. Another explosion sounded and you got up and ran to the window.

You blinked and blinked again. 

A piece of metal fell seemingly from the sky and you looked up. 

The tower was under attack. 

Notes: I hoped you guys enjoyed this and are still liking the story!!

Taglist:

@creationsbyme  @kikster606  @slytherinintj13  @th0rswh0res  @huntress-artemiss  @jannieka394 @stefffrs  @misswimberly @thedistractedagglomeration  @yoongissidebitchh  @purplekitten30 @mischief2sarawr  @johnmurphys-sass 

@lonadane  @imalovernotahater @lokisgoodgirl  @laliceee @dlwrish  @paetonnn  @lovelysizzlingbluebird   @reas-writing  @buttercupcookies-blog @acidcasualties @alialiclouds 

@buckybarneslovesteve @evelyn-rathmore 

@Im-a-slut-for-fluff  @jainaeatsstars @mypainischronicbutmyassisiconic

[fritz-federleicht]

Your name/ Kurt Cobain x reader

Summary: Kurt carves your name into his guitar

Words: 499

FLUFF

"What are you doing?" You walk up to Kurt with big steps. He's sitting there with his guitar on his lap, carving something into it.

"Carving your name into my guitar." He says as if it were a matter of course and continues to carve your name. You stand next to him and run your fingers through his hair.

"Kurt, are you high?" You ask him, thinking he wouldn't do that sober.

He looks up and nods. His pupils are huge. "Yes. But that doesn't change what I do. I want it like this." He clears his throat and continues.

You watch him finish the last letters of your name, then he looks up at you. "What do you think?" He holds out his guitar to you.

"It's okay." You answer him after a brief look. Kurt looks at you in horror. "It's just okay?" He asks.

"I'm just saying it would look better if it said 'Y/N + Kurt'."

Kurt's horrified face twists into a grin. "You think that would look better?" He asks, convinced of the idea. "Absolutely." You assure him.

"Then you do that." He holds out his guitar to you. You point. "You want me to do this?" "Yes. Then everyone has done their part."

You doubt. "But what if it looks like shit? What if I screw it up?"

"You can't screw up at all. Have you seen mine? It doesn't look good." As Kurt speaks, you run your fingers over the notches that make your name.

"Come on honey. I want to show the world that we belong together." He wraps his arm around your legs and pulls you close.

You put your arms around his neck and run your fingers through the hair at the back of his head. "But you have to promise me that you won't destroy it."

You stick your pinky finger out at him. "Pinky promise?" You ask. Kurt replies. "Of course. Otherwise the tabloids will think we're not together anymore."

You sit down across from him. "All right. Hand it over, then." You hold out your hands, Kurt hands you the guitar. You position it on your lap. "Here, take the knife." You accept it and start carving a big '+' into it.

"Beautiful honey. Better than mine." Says Kurt. You grin and carve the letters of his name into it.

When you're done, you look at your handiwork. "I messed it up. The 'R' turned out way too small." You whine.

"No it didn't. It turned out perfect." He stands up and lifts the guitar, holding it away from him. "This is now the most valuable guitar I've ever owned and ever will."

"Thanks for your help." He leans down and pecks your lips. "I'll use it right away at the next gig."

"Don't do that." You try to persuade him. "Yes I will. You can't change my mind Y/N." He leaves the room and says. "I want everyone to know that you belong to me."

[theomnilegent]

2024 Upcoming Sapphic Fiction I’m Excited For! 🏳️‍🌈

Here are the top nine sapphic books I'm looking forward to for 2024! This year I'm excited to see how much more diversity there is amongst sapphic fiction - racial diversity, physical diversity, gender and sexuality diversity! Every year we get more and more books featuring a wider range of characters, and it makes me delighted every time.

2024 seems to be the year of the butch and otherwise gender non-conforming sapphic characters! There is even, much to my joy, a book about drag kings! I've been wanting a book about drag kings since I first started reading sapphic fiction, so I'm so pleased that one finally exists!

Below you'll find Goodreads links and summaries to each book. As always, this list is only a starting point - if you want to find more sapphic fiction, there's plenty to find on Goodreads and StoryGraph!

Furious by Jamie Pacton

After years racing go-karts and looking up to her mother, a celebrity Nascar racer, Jojo Emerson-Boyd should be starting her own racing career. But when she loses her mom in a tragic crash, Jojo’s future comes to a screeching halt. Now her dad won’t let her get a license, much less race. Instead, she’s stuck working at her grandmother’s mechanic shop in the sleepy small town of Dell’s Hollow.

But Jojo’s heart quickens when Motorcycle Girl Eliana “El” Blum shows up at the shop. El grew up on the motocross circuit sidelines, watching her sister and idol Maxine compete. When El mysteriously loses all contact with Max, she’s determined to find her, with her first clue leading straight to the mechanic shop, and to Jojo.

United by fate, the two quickly bond over Mario Kart showdowns and the Fast & Furious films. As their friendship shifts into something more, they’ll have to confront both their growing romance and the grief woven into their complicated families if they hope to chase down their dreams and make it across the finish line.

How You Get the Girl by Anita Kelly When smart-mouthed Vanessa Lerner joins the high school basketball team Julie Parker coaches, Julie’s ready for the challenge. What she’s not ready for is Vanessa’s new foster parent, Elle Cochrane—former University of Tennessee basketball star. While star-struck at first, soon Julie persuades Elle to step into the unfilled position of assistant coach for the year.  Even though Elle has stayed out of the basketball world since an injury ended her short-lived WNBA career, the gig might be a way to become closer to Vanessa—and to spend more time with Julie, who makes Elle laugh. As the coaches grow closer, Elle has a hard time understanding how Julie is single. When Julie reveals her lifelong insecurity about dating and how she wishes it was more like sports—being able to practice first—it sparks an intriguing idea. While Elle still doubts her abilities as a basketball coach, helping Julie figure out dating is definitely something she can do. But as the basketball season progresses, and lines grow increasingly blurred, Julie and Elle must decide to join the game—or retreat to the sidelines.

Late Bloomer by Mazey Eddings

Winning the lottery has ruined Opal Devlin’s life. After quitting her dead-end job where she’d earned minimum wage and even less respect, she’s bombarded by people knocking at her door for a handout the second they found out her bank account was overflowing with cash. And Opal can’t seem to stop saying yes.

With her tender heart thoroughly abused, Opal decides to protect herself by any means necessary, which to her translates to putting almost all her new money to buying a failing flower farm in Asheville, North Carolina to let the flowers live out their plant destiny while she uses the cabin on the property to start her painting business.

But her plans for isolation and self-preservation go hopelessly awry when an angry (albeit gorgeous) Pepper Smith is waiting for her at her new farm. Pepper states she’s the rightful owner of Thistle and Bloom Farms, and isn’t moving out. The unlikely pair strike up an agreement of co-habitation, and butt-heads at every turn. Can these opposites both live out their dreams and plant roots? Or will their combustible arguing (and growing attraction) burn the whole place down?

A Banh Mi for Two by Trinity Nguyen

In Sài Gòn, Lan is always trying to be the perfect daughter, dependable and willing to care for her widowed mother and their bánh mì stall. Her secret passion, however, is A Bánh Mì for Two, the food blog she started with her father, but has stopped updating since his passing.

Meanwhile, Vietnamese American Vivi Huynh, has never been to Việt Nam. Her parents rarely even talk about the homeland that clearly haunts them. So Vivi secretly goes to Vietnam for a study abroad program her freshman year of college. She’s determined to figure out why her parents left, and to try everything she’s seen on her favorite food blog, A Bánh Mì for Two.

When Vivi and Lan meet in Sài Gòn, they strike a deal. Lan will show Vivi around the city, helping her piece together her mother’s story through crumbling photographs and old memories. Vivi will help Lan start writing again so she can enter a food blogging contest. And slowly, as they explore the city and their pasts, Vivi and Lan fall in love.

The No-Girlfriend Rule by Christen Randall

Hollis Beckwith isn’t trying to get a girl—she’s just trying to get by. For a fat, broke girl with anxiety, the start of senior year brings enough to worry about. And besides, she already has a Chris. Their relationship isn’t particularly exciting, but it’s comfortable and familiar, and Hollis wants it to survive beyond senior year. To prove she’s a girlfriend worth keeping, Hollis decides to learn Chris’s favorite tabletop roleplaying game, Secrets & Sorcery—but his unfortunate “No Girlfriends at the Table” rule means she’ll need to find her own group if she wants in.

Gloria Castañeda and her all-girls game of S&S! Crowded at the table in Gloria’s cozy Ohio apartment, the six girls battle twisted magic in-game and become fast friends outside it. With her character as armor, Hollis starts to believe that maybe she can be more than just fat, anxious, and a little lost.

But then an in-game crush develops between Hollis’s character and the bard played by charismatic Aini Amin-Shaw, whose wide, cocky grin makes Hollis’s stomach flutter. As their gentle flirting sparks into something deeper, Hollis is no longer sure what she wants…or if she’s content to just play pretend.

We Got the Beat by Jenna Miller

Jordan Elliot is a fat, nerdy lesbian, and the first junior to be named editor-in-chief of the school newspaper. Okay, that last part hasn’t happened yet, but it will. It’s positive thinking that has gotten Jordan this far. Ever since Mackenzie West, her friend-turned-enemy, humiliated her at the start of freshman year, Jordan has thrown herself into journalism and kept her eyes trained on the future.

So it’s a total blow when Jordan discovers that she not only didn’t get the editor-in-chief spot, but she’s been assigned the volleyball beat instead. And who is the star and new captain of the volleyball team? Mackenzie West. But words are Jordan’s weapon, and she has some ideas about how to exact a long-awaited revenge on her nemesis.

Then things get murky when forced time together has Mack and Jordan falling back into their friendship, and into something more. And when Mack confesses the real reason she turned on Jordan freshman year, it has Jordan questioning everything—past, present, and future. If Jordan lets her guard down and Mack in, will she get everything she wants, or will she be humiliated all over again?

Playing for Keeps by Jennifer Dugan

June is the star pitcher of her elite club baseball team—with an ego to match—and she's a shoo-in to be recruited at the college level, like her parents have always envisioned. That is, if she can play through an overuse injury that has recently gone from bad to worse.

Ivy isn't just reffing to pay off her athletic fees or make some extra cash on the side. She wants to someday officiate at the professional level, even if her parents would rather she go to college instead.

The first time they cross paths, Ivy throws June out of a game for grandstanding. Still, they quickly grow from enemies to begrudging friends . . . and then something more. But the rules state that players and umpires are prohibited from dating.

As June's shoulder worsens, and a rival discovers the girls' secret and threatens to expose them, everything the two have worked so hard for is at risk. Now both must follow their dreams . . . or follow their hearts?

The Summer Love Strategy by Ray Stoeve

Hayley always has a crush. The problem is, her crushes never like her back. After her latest unrequited love—a girl from her basketball team—gets a boyfriend, she decides she’s done falling for girls who are unavailable. Her best friend, Talia, wants romance too, but rarely gets crushes on anyone, and she’s tired of watching Hayley get her heart stomped on over and over. So the two girls make a they’ll help each other find summer love by putting themselves in situations that always lead to romance in movies.

To help carry out their summer love strategy, they make a list of all the places they could find their real-life the beach, the Pride parade, the pool, a MUNA concert, and a party. But as they go to each place and try to find the one , it seems like they just can’t catch a break—they don’t know how to talk to cute strangers, someone mistakes Hayley as straight, and Hayley does a truly unfortunate DIY haircut (that she cannot be held responsible for––it was a crisis!). But when Talia and Hayley finally manage to score dates, will they be able to get out of their own way and really dive into the romances they deserve? Or is summer love not as far off as Hayley thought?

Don't Be a Drag by Skye Quinlan

When eighteen-year-old Briar Vincent's mental health takes a turn for the worst, her parents send her to spend the summer in New York City with her older brother, Beau, also known as the drag queen Bow Regard.

Backstage at the gay bar where Beau performs, Briar just wants to be a fly on the wall, but she can't stand by when the cute but conceited drag king Spencer Read tries to put down another up-and-coming performer. To prove to him that even a brand-new performer could knock him off his pedestal, Briar signs up for the annual drag king competition.

There's just one flaw in her plan: Briar has never done drag before.

With the help of her brother and a few new friends, Briar becomes Edgar Allan Foe, a drag king hellbent on taking Spencer down. But unless she can learn how to shake her anxiety and perform, she doesn't stand a chance of winning Drag King of the Year, overcoming her depression and inner demons, or avoiding falling for her enemy, who might not be so bad after all.

[wof-reworked]

ok I can't stop thinking about the jade winglet, here's my gender hcs for all of them

Moonwatcher - she/they (nonbinary)

I feel like this is fun bc rn (in canon) her gender is just "anxiety" but like,,, one day in the future she gets to actually play around with it

like she captures a very specific type of person I've met who you go "oh I mean I know she's gay but she's probably cis..." and then you have like one real convo and find out they're like not only nonbinary but better at it then you

I think she should get to be butch when she's older. I think she deserves being a) massive compared to her two twink boyfriends and b) gnc as shit

Kinkajou- any/all (genderfluid +transfem)

Kinkajou strikes me as being like. totally ambivalent to gender. Kinkajou changes her pronouns based on how the fruit he ate for breakfast makes him feel. Kinkajou is better than you

I think she was like staunchly using she/her for a while bc it just felt right and like changes pronouns situationally- Rainwing village is she/her, Jade Academy is any/all, close friends it varies, etc etc

Qibli- he/they (transmasc)

Qibli's just always kind of known who he is, and has been like. pretty contentedly in his corner for a while. I think it's like- a pillar of stability for him of like "at least I know I'm (x)"

Proximity to Moonwatcher puts the they/them in there bc I think it's nice when ppl get more comfortable so they start branching out a lil bit :> Qibli has like. guy who says "he/they" because he doesn't mind they/them and wants his friends to feel supported y'know

Winter- he/him (cis + gnc)

Look I feel bad making him one of like. two cis ppl at JMA but like I think it's funny if he's cis but inflicts a status effect of gender envy on every trans person in his proximity

guy who does makeup flawlessly because "it's fun" and decimates your sense of identity as you wonder why the fuck god gave these gifts to a man

extra funny for the fact that as a dragonet he gets offended by the implication he's pretty. he gets over it eventually I think

Turtle- she/her or he/she/they (transwoman/trans)

See here. Otherwise I think she's like trans and this could go in like. any fucking direction ngl

transmasc turtle??? hell yeah !!! transfem turtle??? hell yeah !!! gender is whatever Turtle has going on and god knows if she knows it

last egg to crack bc Turtle is immune to self reflection that isn't anxiety and self loathing

"Haha everyone hates how other people refer to them and their gender what do you mean? :)" (entire jade winglet: cringing with worry)

Umber- he/him (cis)

cis and a lil insecure about it but like. he's just nice :)

he's like experimented with pronouns and gender and found none of them really stuck so like. cis+. cis (extended dlc). you know what I mean I hope

gonna be honest I'm lost for him bc I genuinely forget he was there bc he peaced out so fast. justice for my boy I want to know more !!!!!

I could be persuaded for transman Umber ngl,,, it tempts me,,,,,,

Peril- she/her (trans woman)

On one hand I'm torn bc I think it almost doesn't make sense for her backstory BUT ON THE OTHER HAND the idea of Scarlet being supportive of Peril's identity and LITERALLY NOTHING ELSE is hysterical to me

though actually if we wanna get sad,,,, that 100% could be a manipulation tactic of Scarlet. "see I love you I even accept you" etc etc. now I just feel bad man

Peril's also in the same camp of Qibli of knowing this abt herself since she could think and being happy in it. She knows what she's about

BONUS:

Carnelian- she/they/he (transmasc)

Look butch can be a gender and sometimes you're a mean butch skywing idk what to tell you

wish she stayed alive bc her and Moon could've been legendary together. girl who will kill for you vs girl who desperately wants you to do anything else please we talked about this you can't solve your problems with murder

I think Carnelian's true gender is Skywing Patriot and idk how to put that in hc form but this is as best I've got

[cerastes]

Hi hello I've dealt with worsening attention span and task volition over the past like six years and it's something I don't know how to deal with but it's absolutely a problem. Can you talk about your training arc a bit more, or recommend anyone else who has?

It's different for everyone else but sometimes we can glean useful tips or methods from others' stories, so don't expect this to work 1:1 with you but maybe parts of it can help you.

For me, it took figuring out that I'm very motivation-centric. That is, my brain only cooperates if there is a "logical motivation" for me to do something or to focus on something, otherwise deeming things a waste and not really helping with the whole "focus and get stuff done".

So for example, when I was still in university, I'd hate, for example, Lacanian stuff, so I'd not want to read it in the slightest because I hate it and don't even want to apply it. But that means bad grades and possibly failing, so my way of Persuading(tm) the brain was "hey we hate this but if we don't do this, we tank our scores, and if we tank our scores now, then we'll have to put it an even bigger, herculean effort for the exam. We can instead fucking hate it NOW and get it over with instead of hating it even more later and having to put thrice to effort, how's that" and my brain would be like "aight bet".

Or cleaning, for example, 'cause I'm trash blind, it's much the same: "brain we gotta clean and do the dishes" - > "why? we don't, it doesn't really matter, it doesn't hurt us, it doesn't really inconvenience us right now, play more Bloodborne instead" - > "no but there'll be more dust and bugs and imagine we get an unexpected guest, we'll have a fucking píg sty here, it's happened before" - > "wait fuck those are good points, ok let's clean up".

At least with me, being entirely motivation-centric, I need to justify things to myself before I can actually put in effort and focus, I need to find an internal logic that'll justify me putting effort into things I don't like. If it's something I like, it's as easy as "we do it because we like it" but if it's something I hate, I kinda have to have this dialogue where I imagine my brain as this dude that's holding the keys and without the keys I ain't getting nowhere, but this dude, despite being capricious, is not unreasonable, and will in fact hear me out, I just need to actually give a reason and a logic as to why he should hand me the keys, and he will if I do just that. Basically, I’m very capricious and weaponize that to my advantage.

[42frogs]

"I have feelings for Alhaitham."

Cyno had waited until their next trip to Gandharva Ville to speak to Kaveh, as far away from the eager ears and mouths of the Akademiya as they could be. Here, on the terrace after Tighnari and Collei have gone on their evening patrol, the only creatures to hear them are the birds, and though they might carry his words far away, it is unlikely anyone will be able to decipher them.

Kaveh chokes into his wine cup, kicking his feet out above the trees.

"Archons- really? Good luck with that."

He meets Cyno's gaze. For all his experience in interrogation, facial expressions have always evaded him. Right now, Kaveh seems sincere- eyes widened in surprise, but not hostile.

"Is that all you have to say?" Cyno asks. His hands are braced against the terrace boards, grounding him even this high up. Kaveh shrugs.

"I could question your taste if you like, but you're a sensible man, you've probably done enough of that yourself," he lifts his glass to him, and then narrows his eyes. "Wait - there is something. Why are you telling me? I figured you'd be the type to sort things between you and the object of your affections before you went shouting your heart to others. Have you already told him?"

"I'm not shouting, and I haven't told him," Cyno says. He intends to, because secrets between companions can only lead to unnecessary conflict, but he hasn't decided when, or how, yet. He studies Kaveh for a while, wondering how to approach it. "You're my friend."

"I'm flattered," Kaveh touches his chest. "But you waited until Tighnari was gone, and I'm far more likely to judge you than he is."

"You're my friend, and I care about your feelings," Cyno tries again. Kaveh stares at him blankly. "Aren't you in love with him?"

Kaveh, thankfully, has never been on guard with his expressions, and so Cyno is able to watch the flicker of his pupils as he assembles the pieces - the exhale of breath in laughter, and the flush of pink that dusts his cheek.

"Oh, Cyno, you were worried about me? Or - did you want me to duel you for him? I'd never win, with cards or blades," he chuckles. "I'm not in love with Alhaitham; he's all yours, if you can pull his head out of his ass for long enough to confront his feelings for you."

"His -?" No. Cyno files that away for later. As much as he wants to know - where would Kaveh have gotten that idea from - that isn't what he's here for. "Kaveh, please. I don't want this to come between us."

"I mean it," Kaveh tells him, leaning forward to put a hand on his knee. Cyno allows him into his space; he can smell the wine on his breath. "There's no fooling you, I know, so - yes, once, I thought I loved him. Living in close quarters with someone creates all sorts of fantastical delusions. But it was a long time ago, and I know now that we'd never be compatible."

"You rarely stop talking about him, unless you have a project to discuss," Cyno says, unsure why he is arguing. Does he want to persuade Kaveh otherwise? If Alhaitham did have Kaveh's affections, wouldn't he choose him? It would, at least, bring Cyno some form peace to see them both happy.

"Because he's infuriating. And he's also my roommate, so most of my stories involve him in some way or another. No, I was fooled by a handsome face, and once I saw the rotten inside, my affliction was cured," Kaveh smiles. "It seems to have been the opposite for you, though, doesn't it? Do you think you can fix him?"

Cyno frowns. "I don't think he needs fixing."

"There we have it," Kaveh nudges him with one elbow, throwing back the rest of his wine. "I'll help you win him over."

"I don't want that, either," Cyno says. "He shouldn't have to be persuaded. I have no expectations."

"Well, I've got plenty. I love a good romance, even if it's that heartless dog I have to help. It'll be good for him. Not so sure what it will do for you, but..." Kaveh sways with Cyno on the terrace, imitating the tops of the trees they sit upon, and echoes Cyno's words. "You're my friend, and I care about your feelings. Even the ones that have no rational place in this universe."

Cyno hides a smile in his cheeks.

"Thanks, Kaveh."

"Can I tell Tighnari? You never tell me anything before him, I want to rub it in his face."

"Absolutely not."

[yinses]

I am in love with reader and Tighnari!!! listen—hear me out here. two words: tighnari + ticklish

i really need to shift into my next project but tighari thoughts won't escape and you guys aren't helping !!!!

but here is a little drabble. because you're right, tighnari is protecting more than his dignity when hiding those ears.

part of this verse

there were many things tighnari could account for tolerating. at the top of the list was naturally the akademiya, the staunch ability to be such a intellectually dense institution was beyond even his comprehension. but he’d digress. practically raising collei was a task itself that nearly encouraged the idea of an infinite capacity. then there was you, who had an endless array of quirks that sometimes had the ability to stimulate the far planes of his restraint. 

he’d tripped over enough odds and ends meandering through the space he now shared with you. he’d woken up to tools digging into his back and more than once accidentally ate some fauna bait you’d let sit invitingly in the food storage. 

you were the embodiment of odd habits, but this was certainly the most difficult to ignore. 

the first time, he simply brushed it off as a passing motion. his ears had twitched in response, but had otherwise accepted the casualty. the second time, however, they were more aware and flickered at an angle to get out of reach. and the third time- tighnari nearly parted with his seat. 

“what are you doing?”

you tensed briefly, but otherwise kept your hand steady as the tips of your fingers traced over the arc of tighnari’s ear. the touch was soft, but no less threatening to his sensitivity. the ressearcher attempted to shrug away but the inquisitive fingers chased the target with an answering chuckle. 

tighari grumbled under your insistence,“i give you an inch and you take a mile.”

“oh, are you ticklish, tighnari?”

the accused fox cringed at the allegation further incriminating him against the obvious evidence. the blow was hardly softened by the way his ears fluttered. 

teeth bared in a grin, you took an offensive step forward, the smile only widening further when tighnari responded with a defensive retreat. it was endearing to see such a confident, if not a little petty, master scholar trembling from such a simple touch. 

“tighnari…”

jars and assorted tools clinked together in protest as the fox backed into the workstation effectively cornered. considerate but certainly not above taking advantage of the situation, you closed in on the pensive figure keen on seeing the investigation through. 

“you like to forget that i'm still your boss.”

ignoring the flimsy warning, you braced your hands on the edge of the table, rising to your toes carefully. for a moment, you met the churring storm pooling in his gaze with scrutiny before leaning closer. tighnari hissed in surprise as a tongue flicked the sharp curve of his ear, biting back another as you enclosed the tip between your teeth. 

the next time you hear your name, it's lower in volume and heavy with bated breath. encouraged by the hands warming your sides, you curl closer, lavishing the delicate organ with rumbling hums. eventually, tighnari sags against you, holding you close with a defeated sigh,” you’re such a menace.”

nuzzling into the strong line of his jaw, you placed an apologetic kiss just a hair lower. “and you thought i wouldn’t notice, but i finally caught on last night.”

tighnari considered denying further, but he was aware that he was only a warm blow away from losing all sanity. instead, he turns his head at a slight incline, hoping to deter you from his other ear. he shuddered through a few well placed kisses, hands tightening as a sneaky palm pressed against the tepid skin just above his waistline.

“maybe you should show me some other ...sensitive areas and i might be persuaded to leave your ears alone.’’

fingers entangled with his own, and with an easy pull you were drawn towards the bed.

he was taught to expect the unexpected and to explore and engage in all curiosities. from his own research, he learned that not every scientist got to pick their independent variables; sometimes they were simply dependent on the course of the experiment.�� 

at the very least, you were a study he hoped to never figure out.

[highwaytothedangerzone502]

Foxtrot Alpha Alpha - Chapter 36

Pairing: Hangman x Female OC

Word Count: 2373

Warnings: Swearing

Summary: Hangman learned his lesson a long time ago to never show his true feelings when someone's words or actions hurt him. To do so showed weakness that could be exploited, and Seresin men couldn't show weakness. Of course, there was an exception to every rule, and Jake's always came in the form of women, three in particular: his mom, Juliette Kazansky, and the girl whose name he could no longer bring himself to speak. She was the girl that got away; she was his biggest 'what if' and his biggest regret; she would forever be the ghost that haunted his dreams. Jake believed that's where she'd stay, for he would surely never see her again after what he did.

Or so he thought.

Notes: This is the sequel to India Lima Yankee; I'm using the same callsign for the Female OC as in Ghost Story because I just really like it, but they are different characters; chapters in italics are flashbacks.

Chapter Songs: King Of My Heart Beautiful Drug

****

Ghost

Standing at the threshold of Hangman's apartment turned out to be even more daunting than anticipated. Staring at his door, Ghost thought grimly: I really should've figured out what to say before I got here. But there's no turning back now. Here goes nothing.

Her hand thudded heavily on the wooden door. She waited impatiently for a few seconds before knocking again. Once more, nothing. Ghost sighed, figuring he wasn't answering because it was her. She knew he was home; otherwise, his blinds wouldn't be raised. Unless he had headphones in while he worked out... that was a good possibility.

Ghost hesitated, grabbed hold of the doorknob, and twisted it. The door opened without resistance. 

"Guess some things really never do change." Ghost stepped inside and set her backpack on the floor, calling out, "Hangman? You home?"

Noise in the back of the apartment caught her attention.

Please don't let there be a girl here...

"Hangman?" Ghost called out again, slowly walking toward the noise. She warily poked her head into the bedroom. "Jake, are-"

"Fuck!" Hangman's voice boomed to her right, and she jumped to face him. Staring at each other like startled deer, Ghost's eyes trailed down his glistening body, water droplets rolling down from his shoulders to his abdomen to his-

Ghost whirled around, cheeks flush from embarrassment and silent awe at what she'd seen. Meanwhile, Hangman hurriedly wrapped a towel around his waist and demanded, "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I came to talk to you," Ghost replied, wincing at how stupid the words sounded coming out of her mouth.

"And you couldn't have called?"

"Would you have picked up?"

His irked silence gave her the answer. "That's what I thought."

"So you thought waltzing in here was a good idea?"

"I always told you to keep your doors locked before someone unsavory person walked in." I just never thought I'd fall into that category...

"Did you come here to tell me 'I told you so,' or is there another reason?" he snapped. Hangman moved to his dresser, pulling out fresh clothes.

"We need to talk. I'll be in the kitchen when you're ready."

"You're going to be waiting a while."

"Fine. I have nothing else planned today anyway."

Turning on her heel, Ghost exited the bedroom and strode to the kitchen. The bedroom door slammed shut behind her. If Hangman thought his rude demeanor and behavior would dissuade her from talking and persuade her to leave, he was vastly mistaken. Ghost opened her backpack and pulled out the box of letters, setting them on the kitchen island, pristinely clean like the rest of Hangman's apartment.

He took his sweet time getting ready, so Ghost contented herself with rereading the letters as a reminder of why she'd come here as the stress of the impending talk began to loom over her more and more. 

Relax. We'll work this out. It'll be fine. Perfectly fine. We'll- 

Her affirmations were cut off by her ringing phone. Glancing at the screen, she saw her mom's name. Ghost frowned and silenced the call. Not right now. The drama over Maverick being her dad could wait until later when she was emotionally capable of handling it. She was dealing with enough at the moment.

"One existential crisis at a time," Ghost mumbled to herself while she silenced the second call from her mom. A third call came in, but this time, from an unknown number. Either Charlie was borrowing someone's phone to try and reach her, or a new person was trying to call her. Curiosity got the better of her, and Ghost answered. "Hello?"

"Hello, Annalise."

The voice sent ice running down her veins. She shouldn't have answered. "What do you want, Kyle?"

"To talk."

"Did Hangman's threats not get through that thick skull of yours?" Ghost snarled, bracing herself on the counter to keep her hand from shaking. Something about his eerily calm tone set her on edge.

"Either you tell me where you are so I can come talk to you, or I will find you," Kyle said, "and I will not be alone."

"Come anywhere near me, and I will get that restraining order in place." Movement out of the corner of her eye caught Ghost's attention. Hangman walked in, throwing a shirt on, staring at her in concern. He must've heard the last bit of the conversation. She mouthed 'Kyle' to him, and his expression went livid. Without a word, he held out his hand, and Ghost placed her phone in it.

"If you call my girl one more time-" Hangman growled, his lip curling involuntarily- "there will be hell to pay. I have a lot of pent-up rage right now, and I'd love nothing more than to use you as my personal punching bag."

My girl. The declaration sent shivers down Ghost's spine, even though she understood he only said it as a way to deter Kyle from reaching out to her again. Ghost had learned long ago that some men respected another man's claim on a woman more than the woman's outright denial of him.

Kyle said something else, and judging by the murder in Hangman's eyes, it was nothing good. Ghost's suspicion was confirmed when he snarled, "Do not touch her, or I'll make you wish you were dead." 

Hangman hung up after that and returned the phone to Ghost, who asked, "What did he say?"

"I'm not going to repeat it, but... be careful. Kyle's obsessed with you, and he's with Nick now. He has backup if he decides to confront you. Just... be on guard."

"It's good he doesn't know where I live then."

"Don't underestimate Nick's abilities. Even if you've blocked your address from being found by normal methods, if he wants something, Nick will find it." Hangman opened his mouth as if to add more but shut it and moved away from Ghost. He opened a kitchen cupboard and pulled out a glass, filling it with water. "So, why did you barge in here?"

"To talk. About everything. Including-" Ghost slid the box to him- "these."

The color drained from Hangman's face. Deathly quiet, he queried, "How did you get those?"

"It doesn't mat-"

"Yes, it does! You weren't supposed to read these! Where the hell did you-" The epiphany suddenly dawned on him- "Coyote. God... damn it!"

He swiped at the glass of water, sending it flying across the kitchen and shattering against the wall. Shards scattered everywhere, and Ghost might've been concerned about the sudden show of rage had Hangman not suddenly sagged against the counter, shaking.

"How much did you read?" he asked, deceptively calm.

"I didn't intend to read any of them at first since you hadn't been the one to give them to me. Then I decided to read the first one," Ghost admitted guiltily, hating how much this appeared to be affecting him. "And then I couldn't stop. I read all of them."

Hangman scoffed. "They were the ramblings of a delusional aviator. I don't see what was so riveting in them," he replied, heading to a closet and grabbing a broom and dustpan. "You shouldn't have read them. They weren't meant for you."

"Then why were you addressing them to me?"

"Because maybe it started out that way, and it was the closest I could come to telling you what was on my mind without actually burdening you with it."

Ghost shook her head. "We'd been friends for years, Jake. Burdens aren't meant to be carried alone. Your burdens were mine, and vice versa."

"My burdens stopped being yours when I killed you and Ghoul!" He snapped, furiously brushing the shards of glass into the dustpan. She waited for him to finish the chore before she spoke, mainly because she wasn't sure what to say next. Hangman, however, decided he hated her silence and asked a question of his own. "What are you doing? Why are you still coming after me when I told you to leave me alone?"

"Because I told you once that you were stuck with me. Yes, we had a fight. Yes, it was a nasty one, and in our grief, we fractured our friendship. We both had parts in it. You tried to mend it early on, but I was stupid and ignored you. I'm sorry it took me this long to realize the demons you were facing in the aftermath of it. I'm sorry, Jake," Ghost said earnestly, finally taking a step toward him.

"Why do you care so much about fixing us after all this time?"

"Because I loved you back," Ghost replied, sliding his last letter over to him. "Unequivocally, unabashedly, wholeheartedly, I loved you."

I still love you.

At the echo of his written word rolling so easily off her tongue, Hangman's green eyes searched her face, scanning for any lies and deception. "Why are you telling me this now?"

"Because I need you to understand that as long as I'm around, you are not alone in this world. That you will always have someone willing to pull you out of that darkness."

"I don't want to have this conversation, Ghost."

"I don't care. It needs to happen. It's needed to happen for a long time now."

"You should go."

Ghost stood her ground. "No."

His nostrils flared, and he pointed firmly at the door. "Go."

"On one condition."

"This is not a negoti-"

"Do you love me?" Ghost interrupted, stepping toward him again.

"What?" The question took him aback, and he shook his head. "That's not-"

"Do you love me?" Ghost repeated.

"I can't do this, Annalise. We can't-"

She would not be deterred. "Tell me you don't love me, and I will walk out that door right now and never return. I will give you what you want. But first, you have to tell me that you don't love me."

It was a dangerous game she played. For all Ghost knew, Hangman would tell her those dreaded words, and then she'd have to follow through with her promise, even if it killed her to do it.

Hangman took a step back from her, shaking his head. "Annalise, please, I can't- I'm trying to protect you. Why can't you see that?"

"Protect me from what? What do I need protection from? Why won't you answer my question about if you lo-"

"Just stop. Please, stop asking-"

"Is this because you're afraid I won't love you back?" Ghost stared him down, challenging him to answer. When her question was met with silence, she decided to finally reveal the truth that she'd been lying to herself about since the accident that had torn them apart. At the risk of having her last guard wall between them torn down, if it meant she got him to answer, then she'd do it. She'd do anything for him. "Because I do. I love you, Jake."

Hangman froze, the genuineness of her statement crashing over him as his gaze searched her face once more for the lie, but he wouldn't find one. All he would see were the tears welling in Ghost's eyes as she said, "I love you, Jake. I love you so much that if leaving is what you truly want me to do, then I will. If you tell me you do not love me, I will walk out that door without another word or argument. I will do as you wish, and we- we can live our separate lives and be cordial to each other when social situations are required, but I will not talk to you during those times or contact you outside of them. I will find a way to live my life without having the hope that one day, you will once again be in it. But first-" Ghost closed the distance between herself and Hangman, heart and head aching in terror at what his words would be to her request- "you need to tell me that you do not love me."

"Annie, I..." Hangman gulped, and Ghost could've sworn his entire body shook. "I'm a danger. To you, to everyone who-"

"That wasn't my question," she said sharply. "Do you love me?"

"I'm cursed! You don't deserve a life with a man who could get you killed or a guy who was so weak that he thought jumping into the black waves would solve all his issues. You deserve-"

"Jake!" Annalise exclaimed in exasperation, grasping his forearms firmly. "I will decide what type of man I deserve! And I will be the barrier between you and the black waves when they try calling for you to jump into them again. I will stand with you through the good and the bad. Just tell me: do you love me?"

"I love you!" Jake burst, chest rising and falling rapidly at the emotion he loosed. He broke from her grasp, clasping his hands behind his head as he walked away from her. Hangman took a few deep breaths, calming himself, before facing Ghost and closing the distance between them. He cupped her face, and in the gentlest of voices, he said, "Annie, I have loved you from the moment you tried to take my head off with your guitar. I never said anything because I did not want to drag someone as bright and full of light as you down with me into my darkness. I wanted you to find someone who deserved you, and I never saw myself as that man."

I love you. I love you. I love you. The words rang loudly in her head, and Ghost couldn't quite believe she was finally hearing them fall from his lips after all this time. She covered her hands with his, unable to tear her gaze from her sparkling green eyes. 

"You-" Hangman began, kissing her brow- "have bewitched me- body and soul- since the day I met you, and I love you."

Ghost smiled at the reference to her favorite film. She tilted her head up to brace her forehead against his. "Forever?"

Without hesitation, without stumbling or missing a beat, Hangman replied, "And always."

Ghost closed the gap between their lips, and no more words needed to be said.

****

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[nalyra-dreaming]

Do you think Louis will be more upset at Armand for using his mind gift to make Louis turn Madeleine? I read that part on here somewhere and considering Louis saying that was the last of his humanity leaving when he turned her, I figured he would be more upset lol I think Louis just told Armand not to do it again. 🤣 Or does Louis just not care because he’s in love. I’m really interested in that part .

Sooo, the part you're referring to is this one, right (a discussion between Armand and Louis, prior to the trial):

“ ‘But if it’s any consolation to you...surely you realize I had a hand in it.’ “ ‘That I did it to be free of Claudia, to be free to come to you... yes, I realize that. But the ultimate responsibility lies with me!’ I said. “ ‘No. I mean, directly. I made you do it! I was near you the night you did it. I exerted my strongest power to persuade you to do it. Didn’t you know this? “ ‘No!’ “I bowed my head. “ ‘I would have made this woman a vampire,’ he said softly. ‘But I thought it best you have a hand in it. Otherwise you would not give Claudia up. You must know you wanted it....’ “ ‘I loathe what I did!’ I said. “ ‘Then loathe me, not yourself.’ “ ‘No. You don’t understand. You nearly destroyed the thing you value in me when this happened! I resisted you with all my power when I didn’t even know it was your force which was working on me. Something nearly died in me! Passion nearly died in me! I was all but destroyed when Madeleine was created!’ “ ‘But that thing is no longer dead, that passion, that humanity, whatever you wish to name it. If it were not alive there wouldn’t be tears in your eyes now. There wouldn’t be rage in your voice,’ he said. “For the moment, I couldn’t answer. I only nodded. Then I struggled to speak again. ‘You must never force me to do something against my will! You must never exert such power...’ I stammered. “ ‘No,’ he said at once. ‘I must not. My power stops somewhere inside you, at some threshold. There I am powerless. However... this creation of Madeleine is done. You are free.’

I think this Louis will be more upset, yes.

However, I think the scene in the show will mirror the quoted discussion... in the break-up scene. Because Louis refuses to leave Claudia, despite Madeleine's turning. (We'll see, but I think that's this scene:)

I'm... just not sure whether it will include this admission of forcing Louis.

Because, Armand still does this in Dubai. He says: "I protect Louis from himself, always have." So maybe that admission will be something that will happen later. And the vow not to force him again never happened.

Though, tbh, it happens again in the book as well, he spell-binds Louis to leave the theater after the trial

And Armand’s eye said, Sleep.

and there is this comment from Louis later on that when Armand finally tells him that Lestat isn't dead after all that the veil that is between him and the world is suddenly thinner:

But when I heard this now from Armand it was as if the veil that protected me were thin and transparent, and though it still hung between me and the world of feeling, I perceived through it Lestat, and that I wanted to see him again. And with that spurring me on, we returned to New Orleans

So Armand obviously doesn't quite ... honor that promise as he should.

Personally I think that Armand likely kept Louis from bigger emotional outbursts. At the very least.

In the show the apology in episode 2 comes to mind, for the tear. Louis "resting" in-between. Armand coming and calming down Louis. Armand always watching.

So yes, when that falls away? When Louis will not buy into it all anymore?

I think he will be very upset. (What did Jacob say in the recent interview? Dubai would be explosive?)

Of course it will depend heavily on whether he suspected before and what the interview is actually for. Is it because he needs some kind of trump card to force Armand's hand? Or his own? Of course Daniel would be perfect for that, and of course using Daniel's relationship to Armand is a double-edged sword as well, given their history.

IF Armand did promise Louis not to force him again... then this Louis will definitely be beyond pissed when he can break free.

And, depending on what he will find when he does break free - that might be devastating for him. And then... things will likely unfold.

Given what is to come this will only be one aspect of the whole mess though and so... We'll see :). I do think the show has already hinted at all this, and I also think Jacob has done so in the last interview.

And wrt to him being in love... I do not doubt that Louis will fall for Armand, maybe even head-over-heels for a while. But that will shift, through all that happens. And a lot of things will weigh much heavier than that infatuation. The time after the trial is wrought with pain, and Louis trying to numb himself. And we have literally only had a glimpse... it will be very interesting to see what has to happen for this Louis to stay with the one who kills his daughter.

I think Jacob spilled the beans already a bit when he mentioned that Louis would choose that relationship "again" - that happens in the books as well, that Louis does go back to Armand at some point, and I do think that this is what we see in Dubai.

So no, I do not think Louis doesn't care because he's in love.

I think there's a lot more to it and I don' think they'll shy away from it^^.

[heliads]

Hello!!😁 I've just seen your post in which you said you would like to write about characters from the hunger games and I'm here to provide a request, if you like the idea🥰

Finnick × reader: It's kinda of a crazy idea and a bit long so sorry in advance:)

Reader is from district 5 and they won their games the next year after Finnick, them being the same age. They are close to Finnick, having travelled back and forth between district 4 and 5, due to reader's relative(maybe a brother that settled there because of marriage or some other reason). We know what happened to Finnick after he won :( and something happens to reader as well, but it's entirely different. They are an incredible singer and songwriter, and after singing an original piece during the games (because of fear and loneliness), Snow wants them as a personal entertainer (reader reminds him of Lucy gray if you've read the ballad of songbirds and snakes :) )

So, reader having been a prisoner, a sparkling jewel for Snow and the capitol, performing at parties and events, they get even closer to Finnick, him being the only one who understands the meaning behind each song they write, to the point of something romantic. They can't be together, especially in public, because of their conditions, so right before Peeta and Katniss win, a party is held and everyone can finally see their undeniable connection to Finnick, when the two find a rare moment to dance.

I want to leave the ending up to you, so will they just confess in front of everyone or continue to suffer (if you choose this one, maybe snow announces a marriage between the reader and some snob from the capitol, and the two lovers find out on the spot? and maybe they find a way to persuade snow into thinking that a marriage between Finnick and reader would be better? - this is just because I'm a sucker for a happy ending😭)

Thank you so much for listening and if you don't like it then that's okay, or if you do like it but want to change it, then that's also okay💛

YESSSSSSSSSSSSSS

thank you for sending in a hunger games request!!! also fandom aside this is AMAZING, your requests are always so creative and fun to write 😭😭

masterlist

You’re not entirely sure what’s real and what isn’t. On some surface level, you are smiling and beaming as if you might believe the emotions you’ve taken such care to display, but deep beneath your skin and bone, you’re back there, in the arena once more. Your eyes see different visions, one past, one present. Nothing seems to stick around long enough for you to be sure of it.

That is the problem with the Capitol, after all, they get into your head once you’ve spent too long amongst their bright lipsticked masses. Their eyes stare at you unblinkingly, pupils stretched and dilated as they watch you sing upon their stages. You have been their favorite plaything for quite some time now, no matter how much you wish they would just forget about you. Their favor shifts like the tides, surely it should leave you soon, right?

Despite all of their attention, you’re not sure that any of the legions of wealthy watchers have truly seen you in quite some time. Otherwise, they’d start to notice that the songs they love to examine don’t seem as happy or sweet as they thought. Lyrics are the only way for you to speak your mind, after all, even if the true message has to be hidden beneath a layer or two of literary fluff.

It’s their own fault, you decide. You should have been left to rot in peace after you won your round of the Hunger Games. You shouldn’t have had to return to the Capitol time and time again, until your house in the Victors’ Village in District Five goes empty more often than not. They like to have their darling little music box available at a single call, especially now that the latest round of the Hunger Games has begun.

You would have had to be here anyway, to act as a mentor for all of the tributes from your district who are about to die. You’ve been able to secure a good amount of gifts for your surviving girl, although her male counterpart died the first day during the initial bloodbath. You’d warned him to stay away from the Cornucopia, but then again, no one ever wants to listen. That’s as common amongst the citizens of the Panem districts as the gilded classes of the Capitol.

Still, you’re trying. On the occasions that you’re actually able to break away from the stage to send aid to the remaining tribute from District Five, you’re pleased to see that she’s doing well, for the most part. She’s only fourteen or fifteen, but she sparks with wit. She might be able to win if she’s able to outfox everyone else, but enough fame is growing around those two tributes from District Twelve that you can only hope she’ll last long enough to make it out.

Already, though, you think she might be a lost cause. No matter how many compliments you lay on her to all available sponsors, you can tell one thing that they can’t. There’s a look in the girl’s eyes that tells you she’s going to give up soon enough. It might not happen for hours, maybe even days, but at one point an accident will come and she’ll stop fighting.

No one else knows it, you think, except perhaps the other mentors. There’s no way to recognize that complacency unless you’ve been in the arena and seen it on the faces of the other tributes. You swore to yourself the second you were reaped that you wouldn’t be a murderer, that you’d win by keeping yourself alive and letting the others take each other out. If you were going to win the Hunger Games, you wanted to do it right.

That, of course, was just a dream. You’re not going to let yourself think about how many people you did kill, what it felt like to plunge a dagger into someone’s chest and watch their breathing slow. You know exactly what it looks like when someone gives up on living because they always stared at you like that in the split second before they died, like they accepted once and for all that they were never going to win.

Instead, you were going to win, but at what cost? The residents of the Capitol love to applaud your songs, to read between lines and think of themselves as proper detectives for figuring out all of the red herrings you throw at them. In truth, not a single song of yours has been about love. How could it, when you haven’t been human enough to feel something like that since the day you appeared in the arena?

Instead, each song is about a tribute. The record-toppers are usually about the ones you killed, because even the harshest critics can’t deny that there’s strong emotion in them. Sure, it’s because you lie awake at night wondering if there was another way, if perhaps you killed all those kids because you wanted to, but who in the Capitol wouldn’t applaud real feelings in a place where anything other than falsehoods is a sin only found with the children dying onscreen?

Dimly, you hear the song winding down, and come back to something similar to reality just in time to hit your last nights. You’re hit by a wave of applause, and let it sink into your skin like hooks. Every standing room only show means one thing:  another month before they let you go. At some point, you accepted that you’ll never truly be able to leave, but you still like to pretend otherwise.

You depart the receiving room of the Capitol as soon as you can. You’re not allowed to set foot onto Capitol streets without an armed escort. Supposedly, this is to make sure that no crazed fans try to kidnap you, but you harbor a suspicion that it’s actually a guarantee that you can’t try to run for it.

Still, they let you have the illusion of freedom by letting you walk wherever you want under the surveillance of only a dozen or so security cameras. You pace through the corridors until you find a high balcony overlooking the streets surrounding you. They’re busy tonight, likely because Capitol residents, when they’re not holding gaudy watch parties so they can bet on which teenager will be the next to bite it, do something they affectionately refer to as faux reapings.

Basically, they’ll send out gilded invitations on thickest cardstock to all of their wealthiest friends so they can ‘rough it’ by watching the Games outside instead of the safety of their climate controlled penthouses and mansions. They’ll have servants and waitstaff set out exquisite venues in neighboring parks or gardens, with the token plant or supposedly extinct animal on hand to prove their mettle at wilderness survival.

In reality, it’s nothing better than a floral soiree, but to the citizens of the Capitol, it’s far more immersive than a simple holographic display. It’s like they’re in the Games, or so they claim. Being in the Games is the last thing you’d want to do, but you suppose it’s easier for them to enjoy it when they’re never living in fear about what it would be like to be a twelve year old dying at the hands of a starving friend, so they cluster outside anyways.

“That might have been the most depressing performance I’ve seen all year,” a voice next to you says matter-of-factly.

You turn, surprised, to see the Capitol’s other favorite golden tribute coming to a stop beside you. Technically, you’ve met Finnick Odair before, but it was never personal, always some Capitol debutante wanting to see how many tributes they could convince to retreat together to their personal chambers.

At this moment, however, all you can think about is that he is decidedly less charming than you’d heard. “That’s a wonderful compliment, Odair,” you reply, “I’ll be sure to keep my melancholy attitude at bay next time I’m dragged before the Capitol again.”

Finnick nods somberly. If he’s affected by your sarcasm, it’s only to entertain him further. “You should. If anyone dares open their eyes a little more, they’d realize that you’re not actually here for your own amusement. Appearances are all we’ve got, sweetheart. It would do you good to keep yours intact.”

You lean back against the balcony so you can look him dead in the eyes. “Oh, and I’m supposed to believe that your dashing good humor is just an act, too? You’ve had that going on for far too long. At some point, you have to have believed in it at least once.”

Finnick takes a fast step forward, just out of range of the watching cameras. All of a sudden, his smirk drops, and the look in his eyes is soulless and dead. “You tell me. Does this look real to you?”

A second later, the teasing grin is back up in full force, as if it had never left at all. “Don’t look so shocked, Y/N, we’re supposed to be having a fun conversation.”

You roll your eyes. “Alright, then. You’re unhappy. We all are, that’s no surprise. Name a single victor who’s ever been grateful to the Capitol for anything except that they don’t have to starve anymore.”

Finnick arches a brow. “I would have thought you’d be alright with the whole deal. Your singing gets you out of the less palatable uses for victors.”

You look away. “Yes, President Snow has an affinity for his songbirds. He enjoys dragging them out before crowds to hear their voice, but most of all, he likes to keep them in cages. At least you get to keep your secrets, Finnick. There is no part of me that isn’t on glaring display for everyone else to see.”

Finnick inclines his head solemnly. “I don’t think that’s true, though, is it? You know, they should be able to tell that your songs aren’t quite so pro-Capitol as they believe, but that isn’t the case. Not even Snow seems to have a problem with it.”

“Snow doesn’t have to know,” you shoot him a warning look, “and he won’t, will he?”

He just chuckles. “Relax, sweetheart. I’m not going to tell on you. That wouldn’t do well for my image, would it? I’m just glad to know that I’m not the only one here about to lose their minds.”

Out of some impulse you don’t think you could name if you tried, you reach out and place your hand gently on the balcony beside you. It’s close enough to Finnick that he could take your hand if he wanted to, and after a moment of staring, he does. 

“You’re not alone in this,” you whisper, and he nods.

“Neither are you.”

Thus begins what might be the happiest time of your life. Sure, you don’t have many good memories to compete with, but still. Finnick is at the Capitol almost as often as you are, and suddenly, your new songs start to have meanings outside of just tallying up the bodies you can’t stop seeing whenever you close your eyes.

You didn’t think you had it in you to love. You shouldn’t, at any rate, you’re more monster than man and have been for quite some time, but Finnick makes you believe that you could heal after all. There are conversations to be had in the midst of loud rooms when no one else can overhear, clandestine meetings skirting security cameras. Even as the 74th Hunger Games progress, the truth remains clear to you:  you love Finnick Odair, and he loves you.

The only problem is that you’re not the kind of person who can be loved half so easily at Finnick. You make a mistake soon enough in wanting to have more with Finnick than just secret conversations. There’s a gala to mark half the tributes killed, and both you and Finnick are invited, along with most of the other mentors and everybody who’s anybody in the Capitol.

One dance. That’s all it took to get on Snow’s radar. It was supposed to be nothing. Finnick had taken your hand and led you to the floor when a particularly good song started playing. You have long since accepted the fact that you would follow him anywhere, so you went with him. It was just a waltz. It should have been nothing out of the ordinary, you dance with other victors all the time.

The issue is that you don’t feel the same way about other victors as Finnick, and it showed. Suddenly, all the major news sources were talking about how Finnick Odair and Y/N L/N were definitely in love. Victors aren’t supposed to have feelings of their own, so President Snow’s claws latched around you with a fervor even more intense than usual.

Suddenly, everyone was talking about the fact that Snow might lose his favored songbird to the Capitol’s favorite victor from District Four. It’s a double loss for the Capitol, of course, not only would you be off the market forever but Finnick would be as well, at least for a month or two after the supposed future wedding.

Snow couldn’t have that, could he? Not when he seems obsessed with making sure that you, his chosen singer, would never truly be able to leave his clutches. There’s another story buried there, deep within the copper stained roses showing up mysteriously in your quarters and the scheduled appearances. Snow has not always won, but he’ll never lose again. He would sell anyone out to make sure of it.

To chase the news that you might love Finnick, Snow announced something far more grand within twenty-four hours of that ill-fated dance. All of a sudden, you weren’t in love with Finnick, you couldn’t possibly, because you were already engaged to a man you had never met. 

According to the news sources already salivating at the thought of a true love story, Umber Meadowberry is a wonderful man, but even the most delightful savior would forever be scarred in your eyes for one reason and one reason only:  he is not be Finnick Odair, and thus he is worthless to you.

Finnick tried to talk to you the second the news of your phony engagement came out, but all of a sudden the guards at your door were keeping adoring fans away and him as well. You tried to sneak out to find him, but no luck. You are being followed even more than you ever were.

You’re allowed one last performance before the wedding. The whole affair is terribly rushed, but anyone who dares comment on it suddenly goes missing or immediately starts talking about how they were wrong to ever doubt Snow’s choices. You go onto the stage dressed in white, and the entire audience rises to their feet to cheer. Who cares about Finnick, when you are now forever linked to one of them?

Your supposed fiance, Umber Meadowberry, is in the front row. He smiles at you, a greasy sort of smile that reeks of centuries of old family money and partners who had best sit down and shut up when they’re not on display. You will spend the rest of your life in a glass box, perfect for all who dare approach, then left cracked and bleeding when nobody can see.

Caesar Flickerman bounds over to you, grinning ear to ear so hard that it must hurt. He tells you that he’s bleached his hair in honor of your wedding festivities, and he gestures to it excitedly. Will you be singing your most popular song, he asks, the one about the boy in the meadow? Everyone knows it’s such a romantic song.

In truth, it’s about the last boy you killed, but only one Finnick has ever known that. They’ve dragged him here too, sat between two men who are definitely soldiers in case you try something. You lock eyes once with him, and see straight through the polished exterior to someone who has just had their life’s purpose dragged from him. Finnick nods once when he sees you looking. Whatever you need to do, he’s giving you permission to do it. Even if that involves marrying Umber Meadowberry to make sure you survive.

Instead, you turn to Caesar and say that you’re actually going to be playing a song that you wrote just last night. The man jumps into the air, clapping his hands together in sheer thrill. Everyone in the audience titters and whispers about what it could be about. Obviously, your fiance must be the topic, and you watch as he leans from one side to the other, shaking hands and receiving compliments on his upcoming trophy.

The music starts, and you begin to sing. This time, you don’t bother to hide the true message of the song beneath metaphors and figurative language. The story is plain and bare, yet somehow the most beautiful thing you’ve ever written in your life. Before your eyes, the Capitol audience quiets and grows cold as they realize the truth of what you’re saying.

The song itself is relatively simple. There’s a songbird, you sing, a caged bird who found love even when their hands were stained red with blood. They’ll do anything for that love, even if it was taken from them. Even something drastic, like cut out their own tongue to ensure that they would never sing for anyone but their love.

The song fades, and the eyes of the Capitol are upon you as you reach inside a jeweled pouch on your belt to draw out a small knife. You open your red-dyed lips and place the knife against your tongue. The message is obvious, and the audience rises to their feet in unison, clutching themselves with horror as they realize what it is that you mean to do.

The metal is cold against your mouth, but your resolve is firm. It is horrifying, but after all that you’d done in the arena, the Capitol should know that you’re not going to back down from a little blood. They made you a monster, and now they get to find out that their darling songbird has claws.

Just before you can start to cut, though, the background behind you changes from a view of Caesar desperately trying to stop the live footage to a scene of President Snow sitting at his desk. There’s a vial of white roses on the far corner of the mahogany, although you swear they’re not sitting in water, instead something shadowed and wine-dark.

He claps, slow applause ringing through the video. The Capitol residents in the audience look amongst themselves nervously, then start to clap as well at the sight of their beloved leader.

Snow allows the jubilation to continue for a full minute longer before he starts to speak. “What we have here is a beautiful display of love. Is that not what we treasure here in the Capitol, the dedication to do whatever it takes for those our hearts desire?”

He gestures to you, and you feel your blood run cold. You have forced his hand, and whatever Snow chooses to do will no doubt have consequences far more severe than one mere round in the arena.

However, Snow would do many things before he loses his songbird, and even allowing you to follow your heart is less damaging than having you cut out your music once and for all.

“I believe I speak for all of us when I say that I am impressed with Y/N’s spirit. For that reason, why not have a wedding after all? Our victors are dear to us in the Capitol, and there could be no greater union than between two of our favorite winners. I say now, let Y/N and Finnick wed. I look forward to seeing how they repay us for such an excellent opportunity.”

You slowly remove the knife from where it still presses against your lips, and stare at Finnick, who has risen to his feet across the crowded amphitheater. He looks just as terrified as you, but slowly, surely, he starts to smile. Yes, there will be consequences. There always are. For now, though, you have Finnick at last, and he is all that you have ever needed.

requested by @zaypay, i hope you enjoy!

[mi-rae07]

Song Mingi : What I Deserve (Part 2/3)

Pairing : Song Mingi (Ateez) and named character (Oh Mina)

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A/n : Since ya'all asked for it, who am I to deny.

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Of all the states mingi had expected to see mina in, her covered in sweat and mud while wearing farmer's clothes were not it. Mina had always been the perfect woman, hair always slicked back into a high ponytail with not a single stray hair strand, not a crease to be seen in any of her dresses and her entire self always neat and tidy. But this mina, the one in front of mingi right now, was so much more different.

Mina : you…how…what?

Mingi : why the hell did you leave and come all the way here, mina?

Mina : to avoid…this.

Mingi : really? And you couldn't have just asked me to stay away from you without giving up your title of being prosecutor?

Mina : mingi, what are you doing here.

Mingi : I've been trying to find you for years, mina. Two whole fucking years, and I see you here, covered in mu-

Mingi cut himself off with a small breath, looking up at mina as he asked

Mingi : what are you right now?

Mina : a farmer.

Mingi : a farmer?

Mina : yes, I farm the field of land that I own.

Mingi : the one that belonged to your parents?

Mina : yes, yes that one. But why does that matter, mingi. You must…you have to leave.

Mingi : I didn't come all the way here to just leave like that.

Mina : what?

Mingi : I'm…on vacation.

Fuck, mingi thought. What the hell was he saying.

Mina : a-alright?

Mingi : and I wish to stay here.

Mina flinched at that, looking at mingi as if he had gone crazy.

Mina : here?

Mingi : in this village, at least. But yes, I wanna live here.

Mina : there are tons of good hotels a few minutes away from here, mingi. That-

Mingi : I've been to good hotels my entire life, I wanna see how this goes now.

Mina : I don't know any places here for you to stay at, I'm sorry.

Mingi : yes you do.

Mina : really. Where?

Mingi nodded towards the inside of her house, making mina's eyes widen in shock. That would be a nightmare.

Mina : no, no.

Mingi : no as in you don't know your house?

Mina : no! no as in you cannot live here.

Mingi : and why not?

Mina : mingi what are you saying. Do you not…do you not remember what happened?

Mingi : what does that have anything to do with this?

Mina : mingi-

Mingi : I'm not here because I love you or want you back, mina. I'm here because I'm on vacation and I thought I could take this time to persuade you to come back to Seoul and take your position back, as well as enjoy my time here.

Mina : I don't want to come back to Seoul.

Mingi : I know, which is why I've come here to convince you otherwise. And in the meantime I need somewhere to stay. So either you let me inside your house or I ask one of your ahjummas to let me in instead.

Mina stared at mingi for a while, being at a loss of words. Of all the things she had expected to happen this year, letting her ex-husband sleep in her house that she had ran away to after cheating on him, wasn't one. And moreover…

Mina stopped her chain of thoughts as the sound of a child crying cut through them, making mingi's eyes widen in shock.

Mingi : is that…is that a child crying inside your house?

Mina shut her eyes tightly, cursing every god that ever existed. Why was her luck so fucking rotten?

Mina : mingi, listen-

Mingi : no, no no that's…is that his child?

Although mingi wasn't anyone to mina anymore, the thought of mina having the child of the man who caused their separation stabbed mingi right through his heart.

Mina : what? No. no, that's not that man's child.

Mina would've rather died than raised that child.

Mingi : then, you have someone else now?

She wished.

Mina : mingi no, this is not my child. It's one of my friend's baby and she left her here for a few weeks since they've both gone to Ilsan for an event.

Lies, all lies but mingi didn't have to know.

Mingi : you look after babies now?

Mina : if needed, yes. I'm sort of…this village's babysitter, you can say.

Mingi looked at mina, looking as if he still found that hard to believe. But before his thoughts could go any further mina shook her head, stepping aside as she said

Mina : you know what, come in. I'll let you stay here.

Anything to not let him know.

Mina : just…stay here I'll go check on Minji and come right back.

Mina rushed away from mingi, making him stare at her in confusion as to why she had suddenly agreed to the idea. He looked around the living room of the house he was in right now, it's interiors making mingi feel as if he were at home. There weren't much expensive things around in here, unlike in the house mingi and mina once used to share. But every object here seemed to have some sort of a value, and when all of it was put together, it looked beautiful.

Mingi looked towards the staircase that was a bit away from him, the staircase mina had gone up through. And so he walked towards it, climbing up as he looked around the corridor. There seemed to be 4 doors, and only one of it was opened. Probably where mina was right now.

Mingi walked towards it, pausing right in front of the doorway as his eyes landed on mina who was cradling a baby in her arms, trying to woo it to sleep while the baby just continued to stare at her face with small giggles.

Adorable, mingi thought. He had never seen mina with children when he was with her. And now that he was looking at how adorable mina looked like with babies, he wished he had realized before.

Mina : oh, you're here?

Mingi walked towards the both of them, looking at the baby who was now staring at mingi with confused eyes. She was beautiful, and for some reason she reminded him of mina. But maybe that was just because mingi missed seeing mina, that should be the only explanation for this since this was someone else's baby.

Mingi touched the baby's cheek with his hand, making her coo as she looked up at mingi with shining eyes.

Mina : mingi.

Mingi : give her to me.

Mina : what?

Mingi : let me try getting her to sleep, since your ways are clearly not working right now.

Mina sighed and handed the baby over to mingi, making him smile as he held minji in his arms. Mina watched as mingi rocked the baby slowly, whispering sweet nothings and patting her back gently as minji's eyes slowly started drooping. And soon enough, she was lying deep asleep in her crib.

Mina : I didn't know you were good with babies.

Mingi : I didn't know it either.

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Mina : how long are you going to stay here?

Mingi looked up from his bowl of ramen, chuckling as he said

Mingi : not rude at all, miss oh.

Mina : you're the one who showed up unannounced to my house at 10pm in the night, you tell me.

Mingi : the attitude never changes, does it?

Mina sighed, leaning back against her chair as she said

Mina : mingi-

Mingi : what did you do for your birthday today, mina?

Mina : my…I did nothing.

Mingi : don't you have friends here?

Mina : except they don't my birthday. And I dislike celebrating something I hate so much.

Mingi : you didn't used to hate your birthday 2 years ago though, did you?

Mina : 2 years ago was different. I'm a different person now.

Mingi : how different are you?

Mina : what?

Mingi : would the mina now still have chosen to cheat on me the way 2 years ago mina did?

Mina flinched at his words, the memory hitting her like a truck. Mingi didn't know the amount of times mina had cried and broken down after she left that house, he didn't know the things she had to go through, or the amount of pain she had been in for that entire year. But then again, he was under no obligation to be knowing all that. This was her fault and her burden.

Mina : have you come to torment me about it? Because if you have-

Mingi : I don't care about it enough to torment you anymore, mina-shi. You know what I've come here for, I need you back in Seoul.

Mina : why. Why do you want to take me back into that city, hmm?

Mingi : because I need you to be a prosecutor again. I need you to prosecute a case of mine.

Mina : what? You have a case?

Mingi : it's not mine, it's my sister's. she's been accused of attempted murder.

Mina sat back against her chair with a breath, shocked. She knew how much mingi used to hate his sister, and how he would've rather died than be reunited with her ever again. He would tell mina about his sister every single day, about how she had cheated their parents and ran away with a huge sum of money, leaving mingi's family in ruins.

Mina : you want me to save your sister?

Mingi nodded, finishing up his ramen as he said

Mingi : consider it a sort of…retribution for the damage you had once inflicted on me.

Retribution, that child upstairs was a living proof of mina's retribution. Except she couldn't say that to mingi.

Mina : then when I'm done with the case, can I move back here? You won't need me to stay there anymore once I save your sister, right?

Mingi : yes. Yes, you can come back here after the case is completely closed.

Mina : so you came all the way here, just to use me as a puppet in order to save your sister, mingi?

Mingi : mhmm.

Mina smiled, looking away from mingi as she whispered

Mina : you really have changed.

Mingi : you changed me, mina. Your actions in past and the difference it made to my life, that's what changed me into this person I am. So if there's really anyone to blame-

Mina : it's me. I'm the one to blame. Because this is what I deserve.

Mingi stared at mina as she sighed and stood up, looking straight at mingi.

Mina : I need time to think about this, but I will provide you with an answer before you leave. That I promise, although my promises do not have much value to you anymore.

Mingi : then that's all I need.

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Mina placed the bowl of cereals on the dining table, mingi playing with a giggling minji who was sitting in her baby chair, excited for food. Mina smiled at the sight, realizing now that minji had gotten his smile, that beautiful smile mina had always loved. She could only hope mingi couldn't find the similarity.

Mina : here's your breakfast.

Mingi mumbled a thank you before pulling the bowl towards him, chuckling at minji already whining from the lack of attention.

Minji : m-mama.

Mina : yes yes, I'm bringing your food.

Mingi : she calls you mama?

Mina paused at that, looking up at mingi as she tried to come up with a proper excuse for that.

Mina : she calls everyone mama. It's the only word she's able to say apart from dada.

Mingi : cute.

Mina smiled and sat down next to minji, feeding her carefully. Minji was already a fan of food, she would eat any food with such enthusiasm. In that way she was like her mother.

Mingi : what are we doing today?

Mina : minji's going to be put under the care of one of my ahjummas while I work in the field. What you do today, is up to you.

Mingi : I'll come to the field with you today then.

Mina looked up at mingi, partly confused. She had never imagined mingi to be someone who liked being out in the fields.

Mingi : for the experience. I've never done farming before.

Mina sighed, feeding minji another spoonful of breakfast as she whispered

Mina : fine.

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Mingi : can't we go back already?

Mina : there's still a little bit more work-

Mingi : ah but it's 8pm already! We've been working for 9 hours, mina.

Of course mingi was tired and whining, he hadn't changed all that much from the mingi mina once used to know.

Mina : nobody's asking you to stay with me, mingi. You can go back and take minji from ahjumma if you like.

Mingi : and you?

Mina : I'll do this alone as I have for the past 2 years.

Mingi sighed in resignation, throwing his tool away as he plopped down on the ground, not caring about the mud that would get on him. He looked up at mina as he said

Mingi : I'm not leaving.

Mina : why?

Mingi : because it's night, mina. There can be a thousand different dangers out here.

Mina looked down at mingi in shock, her heart lightening at his concern. So he still cared about her not dying.

Mina : I-

Mingi : not that I care, but you need to be alive to prosecute my case.

Mina pressed her lips together, looking away with a nod as she continued her work. Of course.

Mingi : isn't this hard?

Mina : the work?

This work had already tired mingi to the core within merely a day, he wasn't even sure he could get up tomorrow morning anymore. And mina had been doing this for two whole years now, all alone.

Mingi : yes. Isn't being a prosecutor much easier for you?

Mina : it might be much easier but it was never as peaceful as this.

Mingi : does this pay a lot, then?

Mina : not everything's about money, mingi. This pays enough to carry on my life comfortably. And as for now, that's enough for me.

Mingi : just for you? You don't plan to be with anyone else, then?

Mina chuckled, shaking her head as she said

Mina : I don't feel worthy enough to be loved by someone, mingi.

Mingi stared at mina as she said with a small smile

Mina : you know what they say. A person who did it once can always do it again.

Mingi : except people don't know what you've done.

Mina : but I do. And that self-realization is enough for me to push my life into that of solitariness. It's what I deserve.

Mingi hated the way mina kept saying she deserved nothing but things as harsh as this.

Mingi : aren't I the one who's supposed to decide what you deserve?

Mina looked at mingi, keeping her tool down as she sat on the ground as well, deciding to halt her works for today.

Mina : what do you think I deserve, then.

Mingi : not this. Forcing yourself to live a life that you do not like isn't going to do anything for me, mina.

Mina : you're supposed to hate me.

Mingi : I do.

Mina : people who hate someone aren't supposed to say things like these, you know?

Mingi sighed, leaning back against the ground as he whispered

Mingi : I know.

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Mina took another sip of her soju, her cheeks already red from the amount of alcohol she had drank. But minji was long asleep and so was mingi, after a hard day of work. And it was 3am, mina couldn't sleep. She needed this desperately, especially after what mingi had told her.

She knew he had done him wrong, she knew she deserved no amount of care or love from him. But even then, she hadn't expected him to be so cool about using her for his own needs, without caring about her feelings. She knew she was being stupid, she had cheated on mingi after all without pausing to care about his feelings. But even then, it still hurt.

Mina flinched as she felt someone snatch the bottle of soju from her hand, making her frown as she looked up in annoyance.

Mingi : is this what you do now when you can't sleep?

Mina chuckled at mingi who was standing right in front of her, his eyes unclear.

Mina : you care now?

Mingi : there's a child in this house, mina. And I do not want her to see anyone this way at that age. So get yourself up-

Mingi cut himself off as mina stood up, her balance failing her as she stumbled on her step, she was drunk after all. But before she could fall, mingi held onto her, his arm wrapping around her waist securely.

Mingi : what the hell, mina.

Mina giggled, half drunk as she wrapped her arms around his neck and whispered

Mina : you still feel so good.

Mingi : stop saying things like that.

Mina leaned closer to mingi, her breath fanning his lips as mingi tried not to flinch from the intensity of the feeling.

Mina : why, does it affect you, mingi?

Mingi : mina.

Mina : do you have any idea how much I regret what I did to you that night? Well, I thought my begging on my knees in front of you that night would've showed you things, but apparently not.

Mingi : you cheated on me, if anything you deserved that.

Mingi paused in shock as mina lowered herself to the ground suddenly, resting her head on the floor as she held onto mingi's legs, almost replicating the scene 2 years ago.

Mina : do I deserve this too? Will you even think of forgiving me for what I did if I do this?

Mingi : get up.

Mina shook her head, tears filling her eyes as the alcohol drained her of the ability to think straight

Mina : I'm sorry.

Mingi : mina. Mina, stop-

Mina : I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to do any of that, I never meant to hurt you. You've always meant the most to me, mingi. And when you left me, it shattered me. I have no idea how I'm still even able to function-

Mingi tried kneeling down, trying to stop mina from doing all this. But she only shook her head again with a small whimper, continuing with her words

Mina : no. No, you need to know. You need to know that I've went through hell and back for what I did to you. You need to know that I cried myself to sleep every single day after you left. You need to know that none of what I did was because of you. You were perfect, you are perfect and there's no one else in this world I'd rather have had as my partner. You didn't deserve what I did to you-

Mingi : mina please, please stop.

Mingi felt tears fill his eyes from the sudden overflow of emotions, mina's head still turned away from him

Mina : it's all my fault. I should've been better, I should've known better.

Mingi : no. no, shh, mina stop.

Mina sobbed as mingi pulled her towards him, wrapping his arms around her upper body as she cried into his chest desperately. Mingi placed his hand against the back of her head, trying to stop her from crying as he whispered

Mingi : stop crying, stop doing all this to me mina.

Mina : I'm so sorry.

Mingi : I know, I know please.

Mina : I've never…never stopped loving you even for a single moment.

Mingi shut his eyes tightly, tears sliding down his cheeks as mina gripped his shirt tight in her hands and said

Mina : but you could never love me again, because you could never forgive me. I…I destroyed everything.

Mingi couldn't say anything to that, because he had no understanding as to what he felt towards the woman in front of him. And so mingi held onto a crying mina, holding her close to him in hopes that he could mend her broken heart. But it was of no use, not when she was being so stubborn.

All mingi could do was hope she wouldn't remember any of this when she woke up the next day.

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Spoiler alert : Mina did not, in fact, remember any of what she had said or done last night.

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2 weeks later :

Mingi : yah! How long are you going to take in that shower oh mina!

Mina : aish, I just got in mingi, let me be.

Mingi : I need to use it as well!

Mina : there are other bathrooms-

Mingi : I prefer this one.

Mina : don't be a brat, song mingi.

Mingi : BRAT-

Mingi paused as he felt someone tug at his pants, turning around as his eyes landed on minji who was smiling him with those eyes that he knew too well by now. Mingi chuckled and picked her up from the ground, booping minji's nose as he said

Mingi : does my princess want attention again?

Minji : yaya.

Mingi cooed at how adorable she was being, rocking her gently as he whispered

Mingi : do you wanna play with your toys then?

Minji nodded at mingi, making him giggle as he carried minji to her nursery here. Apparently it had been built since mina babysits a lot of children here, or so she had said to mingi. Mingi had no choice but to believe it.

It had been two weeks since he'd come here and mingi had begun to understand why mina liked this place so much. The people were amazing, and the food was even better. The pollution and noises were less and so were the headaches mingi would usually have from how fast his city life went. This place was a sanctuary for him. He knew he couldn't stay for long but even then, he never wanted to leave.

Mingi had also, gotten much closer to mina and so had she. They'd talk like friends would, although some topics were tactfully avoided by both parties. They'd drink together, watch movies together, work in the fields together and mina would show mingi around the place as well. It was amazing. And minji only made it all ten times better.

Mingi now placed minji on the floor, her quickly going over to her cupboards to find her Barbies. Except one of them was missing, and she was nagging at mingi to bring her that in her own way. So mingi went around the nursery, opening shelves mina had specifically asked him to stay away from. And just like that he opened a particular shelf at the back of the room, his eyes landing on the documents kept in it safely. And out of curiosity, he pulled one out, his eyes scanning through the details. But as soon as he saw what it was, he felt his eyes widen, his legs almost giving up on him. It was minji's birth certificate. Except the details were anything but what mingi expected to ever see.

Name : Song Minji

Mother : Oh Mina

Father : Song Mingi

The paper fell from mingi's now trembling hand, tears filling his eyes as realization dawned upon him. Mina had been pregnant when mingi left her, and that was probably the reason she ran away from Seoul without telling anyone, because of their daughter.

Mingi felt minji tug at his pants again, hugging it with her chubby arms as she whispered, looking up at him with eyes he was now sure she had gotten from mina

Minji : d…dada?

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