#prim's song recs

[girl-with-goats]

Prim's Song Recs {1}

Since some of you enjoy my playlists, I'm going to start sharing some songs I've been discovering or have loved for some time. They are all going to be fantastic writing companions, I can promise you as much.

Song for today — Jeg elsker han, Nils Bech.

It's a Norwegian song, and the title translates to "I love him". It's a song about a boy loving a boy and being scared to show his love to the world. His partner isn't afraid to shout from the mountain tops of their love, and the song is so sad. Just look—

På det stedet der vi bor Er det ingen som oss to Vi lusker mellom busk og kratt I frykten over å bli tatt Hva vil de tro

From the city where we live Ain't nobody like the two of us We lurk between the bushes and the scrub In fear of being caught What will they think

and

Størst av alt er kjærlighet Det er noe alle vet Så hvorfor vil de nekte meg Å vise at jeg elsker deg Jeg elsker deg Jeg elsker deg

The greatest of all is love Everyone knows it So why would they deny it Showing that I love you I love you I love you

[crappy-writings]

Orpheus and Eurydice

Natasha RomanoffxReader // Fluff

*Images are not mine, credit to its creators and sources

Summary: You recount the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice with your girlfriend.

Trigger Warning: Greek mythology?

*No pronouns were used for the reader

Word Count: 1,242

A/N: Listen, I’m actually pretty proud of this one, but would still like some feedback! I was originally gonna make this longer and with some angst, but then I liked it as it is, so. Hope y’all enjoy!

Links to the myth’s Summary and Analysis that I used.

Main Masterlist | MCU Masterlist | Recced Fics Masterlist

“Do you like Greek mythology?”

The question had been a simple one and yet, it had made Natasha’s brow furrow in curiosity. You were sitting across from her on the couch, having been completely engrossed in a book, whose title she could not read by the way you were nursing it, up until you asked that question. She raised her gaze from her computer screen, emerald green eyes staring into the pensive ones that stared back.

“I learned some of the myths and read some of the literature, like The Iliad,” Natasha replied. The Red Room was a lot of things. Aside from turning young, vulnerable girls into weapons and masters of espionage, they expected them to be prim and educated. She learned quite a bit about every conceivable topic, a Jack-Of-All-Trades, master of none.

“But do you like it?” you pressed, marking the page you left off in before shifting your position to fully look at her. There was a soft twinkle in your eye, one that held a sense of wonder and curiosity. It caused Natasha to smile ever so gently as she pondered your question. “I never really thought about it. It’s certainly interesting, and I did like reading the Iliad,” Natasha replied truthfully, setting her laptop aside so as to give you all her attention. 

“Did you ever read about Orpheus and Eurydice?” you ask with a cute tilt of your head as you chew on the inside of your lip.

“Orpheus was a musician, said to be the son of Apollo and of Calliope. Eurydice was a beautiful wood nymph that heard him play during one of his gatherings,” Natasha began recounting what she remembered of the myth, “They fell madly in love with one another, and they got married.”

“And shortly after the marriage, a shepherd that wanted Eurydice for himself chased after them. She stepped on a snake’s nest as they ran away and got bit. She dies and he’s overcome with grief,” you continued the tale as you stand up from your side of the couch, looking to close the large gap between the both of you, your book now long forgotten, “all he ever did after her death was mourn her until he decides to go look for her in the Underworld.”

Natasha watches as you saunter on to her side, laying down beside her and offering to hold her hand, your open palm faced up at her, your finger flexing oh so slightly. She accepts it graciously, the length of your forearms fitting snugly beside each other as they often do. You were staring down at your intertwined fingers with a soft smile, your free hand falling on top of hers before running your fingers up and down her exposed forearm. 

Your touch was gentle and soothing, providing Natasha with a sense of warmth, the kind that had been denied to her for so long. A trail of goosebumps follows your touch on her skin, and you smile all the more. This was only achieved after years of breaking down tall, emotional walls that had never allowed her to be so vulnerable. She is very aware of the effect you have on her and she loves every single bit of it. 

“Orpheus reached the king of the Underworld, and he sang a song so beautiful and so heartbreaking that Hades cried. He let Orpheus try to save Eurydice, telling him that if she followed him until they both reached the exit to the Underworld without him looking back, she could return to the living world. If he did turn to look at her before that, she would have to return to the Underworld,” Natasha continued the myth as you continued to draw arbitrary patterns along the top of her skin.

“He reached the other side, and, in his excitement, he turned to look at her, but she hadn’t seen the light of the living world yet, and she’s forced back into the Underworld. He tried to go back, but the gods wouldn’t let him, and he loses her for a second time. All the songs he sang were sad and bitter and he never wanted to be in the company of another woman after that,” you finish the story, resting your head upon her shoulder. It was around now that Natasha realized that the lines you drew on her skin were, in fact, words. Three of them, to be exact. Ones that were rarely ever spoken aloud. Those three words were more often than not showcased instead of said, only being reserved for the most vulnerable and intimate of moments.  

“A tragic Greek myth,” Natasha comments as she herself laid her head against yours. 

“The part of the story that people leave out is that Orpheus is later killed by a group of women who resented him and he’s able to reunite with Eurydice in the Underworld in the end,” you added, never relenting on writing those three familiar words upon her skin, “it’s my favorite of the Greek myths.”

“Why is that one your favorite?” Natasha asked pensively, her head lifting off yours to admire your features. You adjusted yourself slightly, your gaze meeting hers. She stared at your wide, innocent eyes, watching as you gave her the smallest of smiles. There’s a flutter in Natasha’s chest with the way you looked at her. 

“They loved each other so much. Orpheus went to the Underworld just to get her back. Hades cried hearing Orpheus’ song about her. And, you know, they still find each other in the end. It’s a tragedy, yes, and it's a story about death and grief and the pitfalls of devotion, but it’s still a story about true love,” you respond thoughtfully, your gaze having settled back on your connected hands. You had always been regarded as a hopeless romantic, making your love for this particular myth all the more ironic. 

Natasha hums thoughtfully at your response. “What are your thoughts on Romeo and Juliet, then?” she asks with a teasing air to her. The question would sound dismissive to anyone else, but you let out a soft laugh. Years of knowing the woman beside you meant that you knew this was her way of showing she was listening to you. There was never any malice in her words, especially when you are speaking about a topic you enjoy. 

“I prefer The Merchant of Venice. Othello, if we want to talk tragedies,” you respond with a teasing smile, eyes staring up at her with a similar, mischievous glint. Natasha smiles down at you, the ones that reach the corners of her eyes and that intoxicate you with warmth and love.

Then your expression changed. The corners of your eyes softened, and she got lost in the lovely hue of your eyes that simply held the warm feeling of complete and utter adoration. The smile on your lips was no longer teasing, but held a loving look that could hold the stars and the moon in place.

“I would travel a thousand years to the Underworld for you,” you say quietly at her, eyes never straying from hers. Your tone was sweet and soft, and Natasha had no doubts that you meant what you said. Her gaze softens around the corners of her eyes as her heart swells with emotion. 

“And I would follow you ‘till the ends of the earth if it means getting back to you.”

[realmermaid333]

What's your headcanon for Katniss and Peeta's children?

How old was Katniss when give birth to their daughter?

How many years apart between them in age?

Your headcanon for their name?

Who gets the singing and art skill from their parent?

Bonus question : please give recs of your fav everlark post-Mockingjay fanfic.

Thank you :)

@curiousthg

This has been in my inbox for a long time and I am just now remembering to answer/having the energy to haha. I LOVE receiving asks i am just sometimes bad at remembering to answer them <3

I headcanon that they are carefree little rascals who love singing, painting, swimming, playing imaginary games, and going outside. They are raised in a loving environment, and I think they are really lovely, sweet kids who have been taught resilience and emotional intelligence from Katniss and Peeta. Who I know would make wonderful parents, though I think they'd both sometimes worry that they were messing up somehow.

Katniss would get advice from her mom because before her dad died there was a point where her parents were stable, happy, and had very good parenting methods. I think this would be a way Katniss would get closer with her mom. I also think that Haymitch would be a grandpa/uncle figure to the kids, and would grow to really like spending time with them and watching them.

If Katniss is around 18 by the end of mockingjay, then she'd be 33/34 when she had her daughter cause it was 15 years later that they chose to have a kid.

I'd say the kids are 5 years apart because I once read the epilogue is 20 years in the future? Not sure if that is confirmed, but it is what I headcanon. So their daughter would be 5, and their son would be a baby as Katniss was holding him in a blanket at the end (in my imagination at least).

For their names I have different headcanons than a lot of the fandom. I don't like the commonly used names for the toast babies. Well, I like the girl's name but not the boy's personally.

I imagine they are named Willow and River. I love the name Willow and it's connection to the song Katniss sung to Rue and Prim, and I like how River sounds. I like to imagine that maybe Katniss found a river out in the woods when she was pregnant with him, and would sit by it with Peeta. I think they'd name their kids meaningful names based on experiences and songs.

I also think that Katniss and Peeta would maybe take the Everdeen last name instead of the Mellark one. Katniss had a strong connection to her family and she was very close with them, Peeta was even close with her family too. I think Peeta would maybe go with Peeta Everdeen because it was so important to Katniss to keep her last name going, and I think Peeta would maybe enjoy being disconnected from the last name that he had while he was experiencing so much pain, neglect, and abuse. The last name that those abusing him also had. Even though I'm sure he'd still have complex, conflicting thoughts and feelings about his family.

However, I am also into the idea that they both chose a new last name for their future. Only I don't know what that last name would be as I have not thought too hard about it yet.

I think both of the children like singing and painting, but I like to think that their son really stuck with singing and music, and their daughter advanced in painting. I think they both learned quite a few different art related activities to keep them occupied.

Bonus: I unfortunately have yet to read a lot of post-mockingjay fics though I really want to soon! but I do know some of my lovely mutuals who write a lot of hunger games fanfic. @thesweetnessofspring and @mollywog ! <3

[mollywog]

Asks are open: Talk to me!!

No promises, but prompts and suggestions welcome!

New icon by @charlunday!!

(Previous Icon by @theartofdreaming1!!🩶)

The Hunger Games

Fics and such

Some things I've written

Work in Progress List

Tumblr exclusives: #Easy as Pie, War is Canceled AU, Where the Mockingjays Sing Part 1, #Fake Fic Ask Game, how am I supposed to focus… Prompt, Gadge concept [2], Sleepless in Seattle AU, dark!Peeta Concept, Somewhere in Time AU, Mayor Peeta, Laurel (part 3b)

Fic inspo/aesthetics: A New Recipe, Laurel, Daydreams & Dandelions, Odds, Lake Glass, Hanging Tree, Everyday Magic, Midday Musings, The Fruit Stand, Acts of Goodness, Wild Wednesdays, The Lake House

Regencylark: Netherfield Ball ask, THG Sense and Sensibility, fic recs, Regencylark Series, WtSA AU, Regency Katniss & Regency Peeta, Regencylark art!

Other things I love

The Blue Castle, (#blue castle book club) I run @dustpileofherown

Anne Shirley, Gilbert Blythe, and LM Montgomery in general

Emma and Jane Austen in general [x]

Far From the Madding Crowd

North and South

Copious amount of links below the cut

I don’t know how anyone finds anything here so I’ll just excessively link posts - whoops!

Katniss: Why did Katniss vote yes, Girl had it bad!, Katniss Prim’s-the-only-person-in-the-world-I'm-certain-I-love Everdeen, time spent, and the Lynx

The enigma that is Madge Undersee - Madge and Katniss’s friendship pin

Haymitch: knew right away Katniss was a contender, [ x ] [ x ], star crossed lovers strategy, Haymitch and Katniss similarities, part of why he chose Katniss [x], The crushing weight of caring, always

An Ode to Platonic Everdair: pt1, pt2, pt3

Peeta: in the sewer, the Mellark Men, Peeta and Gale almost friends, eyelashes, making friends

Gifts, the Mockingjay Pin

74th Tributes

Victors, do you think we would have ended up like that? Annie, Cecilia

Reaping Slips Math

Valley Song/Reaping parallels

Headcanons - pumpkins, Post-War Victors, home furnishings disposal, Katniss the District Vet, spud, photography, a light on at midnight

Come to my Garden: Wild Onions, Berries, Mountain Laurel

Not mine: character analysis

#Ficback Friday

Fic Rex

I make a list in my head [x] [x] [x] [x] [x] [x] [x] [x] [x] [x] [x] [moody]

[thesweetnessofspring]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💗

Oh wow, ok. So my faves in no particular order would have to be:

now you know an Everlark drabble of a conversation I imagine Katniss and Peeta having as Katniss begins to process she wants to have children, based on a beautiful Anaïs Mitchell song of the same name.

untitled everlark family one shot This one is dear to me because of the inspiration I got to write it. It focuses on Katniss and Peeta navigating first conversations about the games with their son (and of course their daughter wants to be part of the discussion, too)

untitled drabble Catching Fire AU Totally written because there is a specific image I couldn't get out of my head. I want to write more from this universe because it's Everlark fun.

Sing You Back Home which has one chapter of three up so far, although all the chapters are written, I'm working on editing the last two. I've always hated the argument that Katniss "ended up" with Peeta because she had no one else left. So in this fic, Prim is alive, she and Mrs. Everdeen go back to 12 with Katniss, Gale goes back to Twelve, and Finnick is alive (though he's not seen, it's just one less trauma for Katniss). So yes, she's still traumatized, but she has family and friends nearby. And Peeta decides to move to Four instead of going back to Twelve after his treatment in the Capitol. It's a lot of pining and angst because our girl still wants the boy with the bread by her side (because as we know, this would have happened anyway, because she loves Peeta).

Dare You to Move This one is for the Office/Jam. It's still a WIP and I feel bad I haven't updated it in a while, but I'm pretty proud of what I've written so far. It's a soulmate AU, but Pam and Roy are the soulmates, not Pam and Jim (dun dun duuuuun).

Thanks for the ask, and I will be passing this on! ❤

[laurfilijames]

@the-poldarkian I’m glad you think so 😏🔥

Yes those songs are perfect for this fic!! You seriously have a knack for choosing perfect songs to set the mood for a story. I listen to the Guarding Your Heart playlist all the time!!

Remedy

Pairing: Modern AU Fìli x OFC Prim

Rating: E (explicit)

Warnings: mention of falling off a horse, minor injuries, mensuration, M/F intercourse, swearing, recreational drug use (marijuana)

Summary: Prim had a horrible day, and gets her period to boot, but Fìli knows just what to do to make her feel better…

Words: 2732

A/N: Orgasms make period cramps go away. It’s science. And let’s normalize period sex and periods in general, okay? Okay.

———

He heard her before she even made it completely in the door. Heavy, frustrated breaths that were almost a growl filled the entry-way of the apartment, providing clear evidence of a bad day.

Fili smiled, unable to contain his amusement, listening to Prim struggle to take her boots off and contain her sour mood. It was taking her longer than usual to make her way in so he peered around the corner to see her helplessly slumped against the wall, one boot still on, and on the verge of tears.

“Hey, what’s the matter?” Fili nearly panicked seeing her in this state. Prim rarely cried, so something was definitely wrong.

She stifled her tears and replaced them with anger, explaining her rotten day in a stormy rush and not meeting her eyes with his, knowing if she did she couldn’t hold them back from falling anymore.

“Hera is lame so I can’t use her in lessons for at least two weeks, then Apollo threw me again and I landed in a pile of jumps. My back was already killing me and now it’s going to be so much worse,” she explained, resting her head back against the wall. “And on top of it all I got my period and my cramps are really bad!” As if admitting defeat, Prim tossed the boot she had managed to get off across the floor. She was covered in dirt, Fili noticed more than usual, and the look on her face revealed she was definitely in pain.

Fili bent and carefully slipped the stuck boot off of her foot, giving her an understanding look.

“Come on, I’ll run you a bath.”

She finally opened her eyes, tears pooling and threatening to spill down her cheeks, but a look of appreciation now adorned her face.

Just as she stood fully on her feet, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the bedroom, seating her gently on the bed. He planted a soft kiss on her lips and instructed her to undress while he filled the tub with water.

Returning after a few minutes he stood before her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and gently pressing her head into his stomach.

“It’s ready. Go in and get yourself sorted and I’ll be there in a minute,” he advised, referring to looking after her menstrual needs.

Prim stood, hitching slightly from the pain in her back and smiled gingerly at the man who she was forever grateful for. “Thank you, Fi.” He kissed the tip of her nose as she went to move past him, managing to get a small smile to cross her lips.

Walking into the bathroom and seeing what he’d done in such a small amount of time nearly brought her to tears for the second time that day. She wasn’t entirely sure if it was from that or the pain in her back, but the sight before her was beautiful. The tub was filled with steaming water and candles surrounded the edges, creating a soft glow through the room. Fili had even taken some of the flowers that were near death from the vase in the kitchen and scattered the petals over top of the water, adding to the calming ambience. He was so thoughtful, always thinking of ways to make her smile.

Prim sank into the hot water with a sigh. Her whole body hurt and she couldn’t tell if it was more from her fall or her period. Her lower back thrummed with a dull ache, and cramps spasmed deep in her lower belly. Her eyes stayed shut tight as she leaned against the back of the tub, beginning to find solace in the warmth of the water.

Fili came into the bathroom and Prim opened one eye to see what he was doing. He was naked, having shed his clothes in the bedroom, obviously intending on joining her though she wasn’t sure why he would want to. She eyed the water that was already stained pink from her blood and she sighed again, cursing that she got her period on top of an already horrible day. Prim squeezed the bridge of her nose with her fingers, trying to get the drumming headache that also ailed her to leave.

Music began to softly play and she smiled slightly, grateful that Fili knew all the ways to bring her comfort after a hard day. He had brought with him ibuprofen, a glass of water, a glass of wine, and was now rolling a joint on the bathroom counter, providing anything Prim could possibly dream up that would help to make her feel better.

Little did he know that just being with him was all she really needed.

She admired Fili as he worked, his face relaxed as he finished sealing the rolling paper with a slow lick across the edge, the act extremely sexual.

He looked at her with a sideways glance, catching her watching, and she felt desire bloom suddenly in her core. Being on her period always managed to make her more horny and worked up than she normally was, and today was no exception, even with her aching body.

Fili took a few steps over to reach the tub and crawled in behind her, wrapping his legs around her body and scooting his torso forward to meet with her back.

Prim was slightly appalled, wondering why the hell he just climbed into the blood-stained water voluntarily.

“Fi, what are you doing? The water is all gross-" she began to protest, worried he would be offended and feeling slightly embarrassed.

“I don’t care about that,” he said nonchalantly, his words muffled from the joint hanging out of his mouth. He flicked the lighter he brought with him and inhaled deeply to light the blunt, letting the smoke linger in his mouth for a moment before exhaling.

Prim finally relaxed against his body, thinking how she could have never dreamed of deserving a man who was this good to her, this accepting of any attitude and impatience, and even one who chose to sit in bath water tainted with period blood.

Fili held the joint in front of her to take and she gladly accepted, taking a long, slow drag before resting back against him heavily and exhaling the smoke into the air. He wrapped his arms around her body and held her firmly as his thumb rubbed back and forth on her upper arm. Pressing a kiss against her temple, she leaned into him even more, her pain long forgotten.

They sat this way for a while, sharing the joint and comfortable silence before the water began to get cold, simply enjoying the presence of each other.

“How are you feeling,” Fili asked lowly, his mouth beside her ear and voice raspy from smoking.

“Mm, so much better,” Prim responded with a contented sigh, turning her face to kiss his stubbly cheek. “Thank you, Fi. I love you.”

“Anything for you,” he said against her lips, pulling her in for an unhurried, tender kiss. “I love you too,” Fili declared, smoothing his thumb over her cheek, still so close to her that they shared the same breath.

His lips met with hers again, this time slightly more avid, and Prim all but melted into him.

“We should get out though, it’s getting cold,” he said once they parted. Prim nodded in agreement and moved carefully to get out of the tub, “I still need to shower, I know there’s a ton of dirt in my hair.”

“Can I join you?” Fili requested, stepping out of the tub and looking more delicious than usual with water dripping down his skin and through the hair on his midsection.

“Yes please,” she gave him a smile and tried to push down the naughty thoughts that were filling her mind.

Fili flicked on the taps to the shower and removed the plug from the drain of the tub while waiting for the water to heat. Prim watched the way his muscles moved under his skin, her eyes taking all of him in from the tousled hair on his head to the trail of curls that embellished his lower belly and the appendage between his legs that she was desperate to touch.

Fuck, was she ever a mess of hormones today.

She squirmed where she stood, watching as Fili stepped into the shower to test the water. He turned and looked at her with a smile, “Are you going to stand there, or are you coming?”

Oh, she wanted to come.

Was she going to turn everything he said into an innuendo? Likely.

She stepped in and he made room for her under the shower head, immediately enjoying the feel of the water hitting her hair and face and chest.

“I’ll wash your hair for you,” Fili offered, lathering shampoo in his palms before massaging it into her hair with just the right amount of pressure.

Prim rested her head back heavily against his hands as he worked, the feeling completely orgasmic, her eyes closed and relishing every minute of it.

“Mmm, that feels good, Fili,” she praised him in a breathy moan.

“Good,” his voice was husky, making her open them to see him looking at her hungrily. Then she felt his cock poke against her bloated lower belly and it sent another wave of desire through her.

He pressed his lips hard onto hers as he continued scratching his fingers over her scalp, making her increasingly salacious for him.

Fili took a step toward Prim, causing her to lean back into the flow of the water so he was able to rinse the shampoo from her hair, still kissing her as if he was deprived of her.

The tip of his hard cock was now nudging against her folds, threatening to push through and sending her into a frustrated fit. She clawed at his back in restraint, wanting more than anything for him to slide into her, but was unsure how Fili would feel about engaging in period-sex. They hadn’t been together long enough to face this dilemma yet, let alone discuss it, but then again Fili did sit in the tub with her and didn’t seem fazed at all.

Hope flourished in her as he backed her against the wall of the shower, proceeding to collide his tongue with hers fervently.

“Do you feel well enough to have sex?” he asked breathlessly, breaking away from her long enough to inquire. His eyes searched her face for an answer, flickering over her features that were traced with uncertainty.

“Yes, but I have my period, Fi, you don’t want to fuck me like this,” she said dismissively.

“I never agreed to that,” he looked at her with a steely expression that hinted at lustful curiosity and it piqued her desire even more.

“Do you want to?” he asked hopefully, a flash of excitement crossing his features.

Prim nodded in confirmation, knowing he would take away every ounce of discomfort that remained with mind-blowing orgasms.

“Good, because I really want to,” he announced before his lips dove onto her neck.

Fili was not shy about wanting it. He didn’t hesitate to reach down between her crimson folds, coating his fingers with her tinted arousal and pumping in and out of her in a steady rhythm. Her slick was stringy and more viscous than normal, and it turned Fili feral.

Within minutes Prim was writhing against the shower wall, completely at the mercy of Fili’s touch. Many times she had attempted to grasp his cock in her hands, but to no avail. His focus was all on her.

His fingers were hooked inside her, massaging her g-spot and bringing her to the brink faster than she ever had before while his thumb circled her clit.

Right when she was about to succumb to his assault he stopped, but before she was able to protest Fili squatted slightly to gain access to her fluttering core and removed his hand, guiding his throbbing cock to her opening and pushed into her with a driving force. A gasp left her lungs, her body unable to react in any other way as he bottomed out inside her, filling her to the hilt. He lifted both of her legs to wrap around his waist, supporting her fully as he gave his all in fucking her over the edge.

“Are you okay?” he asked, not wanting to be too aggressive with his actions in fear he would inflict more pain on her.

She pulled his bottom lip with her teeth and gave him a challenging look, “The rougher you are with me, the less I’ll think about my back hurting.”

Fili thrusted hard into her, gripping onto her hip with a tight squeeze, smearing her colour across her skin with his painted fingers as his mouth attacked her chest with sloppy and desperate kisses.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he praised her, completely losing himself in her hot, slippery walls.

Prim screamed loudly as the most intense orgasm thundered through her, shuddering and clenching around Fili who was still relentlessly pounding into her. Her sounds were lost in the noise of the water, but not on Fili. Her cries resonated in his ear, bringing him close to his own release. He grunted roughly as his pace grew more ragged, his engorged head pounding against her g-spot with every thrust.

“You want me to cum in you? Fill you up and make you even more of a mess, baby?”

Prim could only nod, feeling herself beginning to strangle his cock hard as she approached a second climax, his eager, rough onslaught combined with his words throwing her over the edge again.

Fili didn’t let off as he came undone, the sensation of her thick release mixed with her blood and squeezing walls making him even more wild. She trembled around him, her entire body shaking and quivering, nails raking over the skin on his back. With two more harsh slaps of his hips on hers, he growled and cursed, his noises raspy, filling her with his hot seed. He hastily attached his lips to hers, kissing her harshly and swallowing the whimpered cries that still spilled from her mouth as he continued to move inside her sensitive core. She fluttered around his cock as she slowly came down from her high, milking out what was left in him in spurts.

Prim tangled her fingers through his hair, pulling the wet strands with a tug to add to the tingling feeling that still coursed through his body.

“Please tell me we’ll do that every time you’re on your period,” he panted and searched her eyes, hoping it felt as good for her as it did him.

Prim grinned enthusiastically, “Oh, yes. Definitely,” she confirmed before pulling him back to her mouth to taste his tongue on hers again.

Their tempo slowed, becoming more sensual and unhurried, patience replacing the desperation that had consumed them moments ago.

Eventually their bodies parted, his cock stained red when he removed himself from inside her, but he didn’t hurry to wash the evidence of her from him. Instead he returned to kissing her slowly, basking in the descent of their climaxes while the water continued to rain on them.

They remained how they were for as long as they could until they had successfully used up all the hot water in the apartment and it became too cold to withstand, goosebumps littering Prim’s skin.

Fili wrapped her in a towel and hugged her tight against his chest, kissing the top of her head while rubbing her back to keep her warm.

“Do you feel better?” he asked quietly.

“So much better,” she replied, nuzzling her face in his warm neck.

She felt so unbelievably lucky. He could remedy her in ways nothing else could, bringing her calm and reprieve to even her worst days, but how bad could a day really be when she was loved by someone like Fili? Her body felt almost no pain anymore and she knew she would fall into a restful sleep as soon as she hit the pillow, all thanks to the generous attention he gave her.

Prim smiled against his neck, thinking how the next few days of being on her period suddenly didn’t seem so unbearable anymore.

———

Taglist:

Everything: @guardianofrivendell @midearthwritings @cassiabaggins @lilith15000 @trishthedishofreis @linasofia

Fili: @shethereadinghobbit

[widovv]

yes i know it’s 2021 but i’m Back On My Bullshit with this ship (idk for how long, let’s enjoy it while it lasts) so here’s a brief rec list for what i’m calling the best of the best

28 fics under the cut (i told you it’s just the BEST) with links and descriptions! personal faves are marked with a ✦

you can find a much longer (65 fics) abridged haymitch/katniss list here and, as always, my complete hunger games rec list can be found here (haymitch/katniss + a few cinna/katniss), all other rec lists are here :)

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Longreads (20k+ words)

The Pardon by Nine Bright Shiners - Nine months after Katniss returns to District 12, she is summoned to the Capitol for her official pardon. She is accompanied by Haymitch. As underlying feelings are forced to the surface, choices need to be made.

From the Ashes by parapraxis - What could possibly be more dangerous for Katniss Everdeen than The Hunger Games?

Rekindling by WalkTheSun - Haymitch takes Katniss back to District 12 and instead of abandoning her, stays with her. When he steps in to help her heal, Katniss begins to see Haymitch for who he really is.

✦ The Pin by kardamon - A stray comment from Caesar Flickerman leads Katniss to watch the 50th Hunger Games much earlier, more thoughtfully and alone.

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Post-Mockingjay

Tick, Tock by thatchaoticart - It’s been three years since the Seventy-Fifth Hunger Games, and he’s lost all sense of time. But then she comes uninvited into his house, up close and personal, and brings it back to him.

✦ This Is the Moment, Then by disco_lemonade - Three scenes, during and after Mockingjay, where they figure each other out, bound to an inevitable partnership.

✦ Exist by rainbowballz - He can’t be mad at her up close, especially when she’s staring at him like he actually means something.

The Ache That Knows You Well by disco_lemonade - Every night you resist him, you see as a sincere conquest of will.

Darling, Believe Me (Things Stay the Same) by sirenalley - She has lost everyone, and it never gets any easier, and nothing ever changes. He’s there to mirror her misery.

sunspots by herbalist - She makes no effort to rationalize what happens next.

and we could be enough by songofthestars - He doesn't know exactly how it begins.

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Mid-series

Last Place in the World by kardamon - He waited until their steps faded completely in the distance before saying in a normal volume: “You can come out now.” Katniss jerked in surprise and bit her lip to keep herself from making a sound. “…unless, of course, you enjoy lying under my bed.”

Sure thing by kardamon - She remembers screams. She remembers the heat. She remembers dead children. She remembers fire. (Or, the one where Prim lives.)

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“Peeta Died in 74” AU

✦ The Unlucky Ones by neytah - “I’ve killed people, Haymitch, and I have to live with that. And you’re the only one who really understands.”

To the Victor, the Spoil by Annakovsky - No berries, no mockingjay, no rebellion. Katniss killed Peeta in the arena, and now she has to live with herself like every other victor.

send us a blindfold, send us a blade by noblydonedonnanoble - On the train ride home from the Capitol, Katniss burst into his room in the middle of the night, demanding some of his liquor.

Only Fear That Makes You Run by WrongRemedy - Haymitch’s life, from Katniss and Peeta’s reaping to the morning of the reaping for the 80th Hunger Games, six years later.

problem solving by hampersands - Haymitch has hated himself for so long now that when he figures out the extent of his feelings for Katniss Everdeen, it’s just sort of another day.

sing us a song to keep us warm (there’s such a chill) by thinkatory - The truth is that, no matter what Haymitch had said to the sponsors and the other mentors, he had no fucking clue how the 74th Hunger Games would end, or what would become of his tributes.

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“Alternate Third Quarter Quell” AU

✦ Sanctuary by disco_lemonade - Katniss is hijacked, and Haymitch is there to rebuild.

dulce et decorum est (pro amici vivere) by indigostohelit - Look at it this way, Katniss. At least you get to save someone.

quarter hell by clouberding - it’s a coincidence that it rhymes with hell.

in silent screams, in silent screams (i never dreamed of this) by noblydonedonnanoble - Haymitch thinks he might vomit as he steps forward. His voice shakes, but it still carries across the entirety of the crowd as he announces, “I volunteer as tribute.”

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Unrequited Love

✦ Footloose Man by FanficAllergy and RoseFyre - Kid deserves better than an old drunk like him.

duplicity by Nylex - “Let Peeta be happy, Haymitch. Let yourself be happy.”

✦ all this (and love too) will ruin us by polyommatusblues - Whatever she is able to give you is enough, even when it isn’t.

Lost and Found by humberquill - I mean so little to her, that I’m the only one able to talk her round.

[markets]

ANGIE HAVE YOU HEARD THE SONG DEAR ANGIE BY BADFINGER!!!!!!!!! It says your name

YESSSSSSSSS I LOVE THIS SONG my deactivated wife timea recced it to me and it has been very special to me since BECAUSE IT SAYS MY NAME!!! THANKS PRIM And btw i opened tumblr to tell you this. your post about your girls is contagious after reading them i made like three ocs and a plot for them which is a thing i never do and wrote a crazy fucked up scene for two of them thats like two pages long in one sitting The scene is a rlly crazy fucked up hapenstance prim they lvoe each other but not in the same way and one of them tries to stab the other but does it so gayly she fails. i may be projecting in parts of the whole thing which is probbably why i came up with the characters and plot so fast but WHAO FREAKING CARES idk whats going on this is absolutely insane.thanks

[rcmclachlan]

hello! i started watching the untamed based on your reblogs (and felt charmed solidarity with your anon earlier) and GOD it was worth it: so epic, so heartwarming, so goofy, so full of love. i can't believe i got to experience something so enjoyable, so thank you for getting me into it!! ps i would be so grateful for some fic recs if you have time 😊💕😊

Welcome to the party, pal! I really need to do a proper fic recs roundup for The Untamed at some point, but for now here are the absolute must-reads (imo):

+ my age has never made me wise by idrilka

“We hear that His Excellency might be married by summer’s end,” the merchant’s wife says and Wei Wuxian freezes, his heart in his throat. “The Gusu Lan sect has been buying enough red silk and brocade that the merchants in Caiyi can’t satisfy the demand.” He feels himself grow brittle inside, like a flick of a finger to his temple might make him shatter. His ears are ringing. “Who’s the lucky bride?” he asks despite himself. His tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth. Or: The story of a marriage.

+ wide enough and wild by impossibletruths

Wei Ying leaves. He follows.

+ build me no shrines by occultings (microcomets)

Wei Wuxian opens the letter and skims through, feeling his frown deepen with every line. “Oh. A request from Yiling. This man Tong Shen writes, 'I can’t explain what’s happening — you wouldn’t believe me if I tried. The hills are moving and they are hungry. Please send aid, Hanguang-jun, this humble one begs you.' Well, my curiosity is certainly piqued." A few months after the events of Guanyin Temple, Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji take on a night hunt of an unusual sort: The Burial Mounds are spreading, quickly and with no apparent explanation. In Wei Wuxian, it brings old, long-buried things bubbling to the surface.

+ from the other side of sorrow by Sour_Idealist

Yu Ziyuan cuts off Wei Wuxian's hand. The cultivation world changes.

+ a life without sun by thankgodforpandas

A great calamity fell upon Qishan Wen. It's said that some of the Wens still live, surviving on turnips and raw hope, but Jiang Cheng has not thought of Qishan Wen in years. He has enough on his mind with securing a lecture for Yunmeng Jiang, and somehow, dealing with Wei Wuxian's nauseating affection for Lan Wangji.

+ A Narrow Bridge by FrameofMind, Jo Lasalle (Jo_Lasalle)

Once, Lan Wangji made a choice to step aside. Ten years after Wei Ying’s death, he finds a way back to choose again. (WIP - Updates every other Friday)

+ love, in fire and blood by cicer

"You want Wen Ruohan dead," the Patriarch continued idly. "You want his corpse puppets eliminated. You want his halls burned to the ground and his soldiers disemboweled and begging for mercy. Have I about covered it?" He gave another knife-edged smile. "But what will you give me in return?" "We would be willing to offer quite a bit in return for Wen Ruohan's defeat," Lan Xichen admitted. "But I'm afraid we don't know what an immortal such as yourself desires. Please advise us." The Patriarch waved at hand at the front of the tent. "I want Second Young Master Lan." (In which the Sunshot Campaign ends through an arranged marriage to the Yiling Patriarch, and Lan Wangji suffers the mortifying ordeal of falling in love with his own husband.)

+ Song by WithBroomBefore

Wei Wuxian almost does not catch the name of the song. In which the aftermath of the cave battle involves just enough communication to make a difference.

+ Lead Me On Through by vesna (mrsronweasley)

"Who do you think your betrothed is?" Wei Wuxian asks, sprawling out in front of Lan Zhan and enjoying the prim thinning of his lips at the question. He shouldn't be sprawling—they're in the library, for one, and Lan Zhan is studying, for another—but he can't help himself. Wei Wuxian is a sprawler. "I do not believe this to be of importance," Lan Zhan responds, without turning his gaze away from his book. "What!" Wei Wuxian sits up. "How can you say that? Of course it's important! This is the person you'll be with for the rest of your life, Lan Zhan."

+ Literally every fic by orange_crushed

No, seriously. Everything they write is the best thing I've ever read.

[infinitegalahad]

WIFE

Summary: You and Dick, after years of indefinite separation and depression, have finally reunited. Dick can’t wait to start a family with you. You love Dick, but you soon realize that you cannot bear him a son, a daughter, or a child.

Word Count: 10.9k (i’m being generous)

Warnings: Infertility, period typical sexism, Loneliness, based off of a mitski song what did you expect, here comes the angst train *sad choo choo*

Notes: Female reader. and title (literally) taken from Wife By Mitski, which I rec listening too for the extra painful experience. So I’m back from the dead...ish. I wanna apologize for going AWOL for two-three months, guess Iw anted to focus on other works and I feel like x readers are not my strong suit. But that doesn’t mean I’m not gonna write them! I can’t promise anything, but I am planning some stories. Not as long or as painful as this is, of course!

I’m not gonna lie, I cried while writing this. Not only because it’s Mitski, but infertility is something that hit’s close to home for me and my family. Was this story just me projecting my generational trauma into this fic? Never! Anyways, hopefully I won’t go AWOL again, atleast not for that long. It’s really hard to find the motivation to write, but I’ll do it. For you guys ;)

Taglist: @easy-company-tradition​ 

When Dick Winters had left for the war five years ago, he had made a promise to you the night before he was drafted. You were nineteen and naive, planned for college and he was twenty-seven, a post-graduate and Business Major. Your father was his professor and one of his best students. You would see Dick every Friday Night. As you would pick at the leftover peas on your plate, he would turn to look at your father to talk about something business-related. His eyes, you could never tell if they were a light shade of blue or green, would meet yours. It would be for a brief second. Those brief seconds would make you drop your fork and your cheeks turn a light shade of pink.

You had a small crush on Dick Winter’s.

It took you a few weeks to catch onto his eye color. They were a beautiful mixture of blue and green, reflecting a mint color. The taper candles would always lighten his eyes up. The reason you finally found out this eye color was because each dinner, you’d catch Dick staring at you. You were naturally oblivious to it, keeping your head down as your father talked a business deal. But whenever he mentioned Dick’s name, you would look up, see Dick’s dilated mint pupils looking right into your eyes before he swiftly turned his head to your father, acting like he was listening to every little word he was saying.

Dick had become a family friend. Instead of dinners once a week, he would come by your house more frequently in the summer months. The summer you had met Dick, there was a three-month-long heatwave. From what you understood, Dick had been doing an internship with your father along with extra studies, extracurriculars, and even more. It sounded like a lot for a young man. He was over three times a week, always in your father’s studies or the porch, drinking lemonade as he and your father discussed business. You’d sit on top of the porch, lazily slumped in a chair in your floral dirndl, reading And Both Were Young as you watched Dick Winters, in shorts and a tight white shirt with his strawberry blonde hair a little messy. Every time he spoke, your heart would skip a beat.

“Two jobs?” You cried, skipping ahead of him in your flats that you had slipped on in a rush, the heels hanging out of the back. “And an internship? How do you do it all?”

Dick looked down at your tiner figure, his lips curving into a subtle smile at your question. Whenever he smiled, his cheeks would wrinkle. It was a small detail you caught into about Dick that you adored. “I don’t go to parties a lot. Not worth the time that I’ve got. I work these jobs so I can get through school and support my family.”  

“That’s very admirable, Dick. Not a lot of guys my age would even consider that.” You remarked with a compliment. Dick walked beside you, hands behind your back with a straight back. His gaze lingered in you as he scanned your figure. Now that Dick was around more often, you always made sure to wear your best outfits. You wouldn’t have considered yourself very vain, but with Dick, something had changed. You started wearing the pretty pastel dresses your mother approved off, fine pearls, expensive cologne, and even the short rompers that your mother didn’t approve of. When wearing makeup, you felt like a woman more than a girl, which is what you wanted Dick to see you as.

“Thank you, y/n.” The strawberry blonde politely thanked with a curt nod. The two of you had a little routine now. While your mother would make dinner and your father would smoke a cigar in the back with the dogs, you’d take Dick into your backyard and down a little cobblestone trail to a hidden lake. You liked to go there to read to escape, and Dick needed a small break from working in the burning heat. So it was idle. “Do you have plans now that you’ve graduated?”

“Yes. I’m starting classes at Franklin and Marshall since they’ve allowed women. My mother prefers I stay home and learn how to be a lady instead of reading,” You explained with a sigh. The only woman in a class full for men. Times were changing, and nothing was going to stop you from working. “She cares more about her grandchildren then her daughter’s desires.”

“Well, it is your choice? Not your mother or father’s. As long as you were happy, then they should be happy for you. I think you’ll like it,” Dick kindly reassured, “You’re a very nice young lady, y/n. I’m sure you’ll do great things.”

The two of you arrived at the lake. The sun was setting over the sky as it shined on the lake. There was an orange and pink hue in the sky. Dick and you stood besides each other. The strawberry blonde shut his eyes and let out a long sigh, feeling a small breeze in the night. The air got colder in the nights, which felt like a refreshing treat after a long day of work and unbearable heat. The sun made his strawberry blonde hair and skin glow like he was some kind of god.

You admired Dick as he stood there, biting your lip and hands playing with the belt fabric on your skirt.

“Dick?” You managed to choke, your voice cracking.

He opened one eye and looked at you, worried. “Is everything okay, y/n?”

“Can you please kiss me?”

Dick looked bewildered. It took him a second to process the question. His expression was that of a high school student stumped on an equation in math class. He hadn’t been outside much, maybe the heat was getting to him. “I don’t think I heard that correctly.”

“Can you please kiss me?” You reiterated, biting your lip in vexation. “I haven’t met a man like you, Dick. None of the boys my mother is setting me up with are like. They aren’t as intelligent, hardworking, cordial. When I tell these boys I want to read and live my life, they put me down-call me insane and ill. But you don’t do those things. You just stand there and listen to me. I may not make sense since I am probably just some young immature girl who knows nothing about being a proper lady. You even give me kind words of advice. No other boy would do that. Only a man would do such a thing.” You vented, letting your words spill out like vomit.

Dick wasn’t reacting at all. At Least it wasn’t obvious. He turned his figure towards you, eyes glued as his lips puckered against each other’s. He seemed taken aback by your honesty since you were someone who was reserved, only speaking when necessary. That didn’t mean adding your opinion to one of your father’s at dinner. Dick wasn’t obvious to your “rebellious” nature. Your mother would always scold you for interrupting the men. Your father didn’t mind your info if, and so didn’t Dick. He was interested in your perspective, and would always ask for further intake since it was the gentlemen thing to do.

You looked at him and shook your head, turning to walk back. “Forget it,” You sighed as you walked past him, your shoulder brushing against his. Dick got a smell of your perfume, a lavender and vanilla, it was definitely expensive. He liked y/n’s armora, especially after a long day of being in a stuffy room full of whiskey and burning cigars. “You probably think I’m just a mad woman-“

Dick thought about his decision for a second. He had to think thinkly. When he made up his mind, he sped walk towards you. “Wait,” He called. He saw you turn around with your silky (y/h/c) (y/h/t) spring right behind you. He scrunched up a fist feeling a lump grow in his throat as he looked a few slow steps towards you.

“You’re not a mad woman. I think you’re wonderful to be around. I always enjoy our conversations and our midnight walks,” Dick commented. He was at a loss of words for the kiss. When you had asked, you sounded like you were begging, but hid it.

It took him a while to realize that the two’s of you had a fair amount in common. You both were soft spoken souls, friendly but quiet. You distanced yourself from large crowds and were usually confident in each other since you both had a trust. You know how eachother worked like nobody else did-a small, intimate detail that only the two of you would watch into.

“You’re also growing into a beautiful young woman each day. Being a lady doesn’t mean being all prim and proper, it means being mature, kind, and respectful to others. That’s what you are.” Dick was only a few steps away. You listened to every word he said, your hands restraining themselves from touching his chest. He could once again smell the cologne and see the moonlight shine on your eyes and hair-the gloss you wore sparkled as well.

“But I couldn’t kiss you. You’re father wouldn’t approve of it.”

You couldn’t hold yourself back. Your hands met his chest. You were so caught up in the heat of it that you didn’t realize that your hands rested on Dick’s Ivory collared shirt. Dick, however, didn’t protest at all.

You gently scrunched the fabric, “He’s not here. Just one. Before my mom tries to marry me off. Just one kiss and I won’t ask for anything else of you, Dick.”

Dick put his bigger hands onto yours as his thumb finessed the small part of your soft, [y/s/c] skin in between your index and thumb. “I…”

You gave him those eyes. They were begging. One kiss from a real man and you would be content.

Dick let out a defeated sigh, “...will. Just one. For you.”

So he did. In the moonlight, Dick Winters held you close and became your first kiss. Your lips were like a sweet treat. It felt miraculous after a long day of work. It was meant to be quick, but he was obsessed with your cushion lips and sweet lip gloss. His hands firmly rested on your lower back as his fingers scrunched with the material. It wasn’t his first kiss, but it was yours, so he made sure to be gentle with you, even though he struggled. The whiff of your perfume, your shirt showing off your abdomen, the silliness of your hair. It was hard just for it to be one kiss.

Dick walked to you, your arm slung in the hole of his elbow. The two of you didn’t speak any words once you arrived back for dinner. It was a typical dinner. Your mother always made Salmon, rice, and peas on Saturdays, which occurred to be Dick’s favourite meal. Your mother raved about boys who could “tame” you, your father spoke of a new business deal in the news, you picked at the leftover peas, and Dick looked at your father with his weary king eyes, attempting to look interested in the conversation.

What kept him away in the dinner as your bare ankle, brushing against his trousers. It was a little bit distracting. Thank god he was a good pretender. It felt so wrong to be doing this, yet so right. You were unlike a lot of women Dick had met. You always caught his attention, watching you each day as you grow into a young, educated woman.

To tame your foot, Dick wrapped his ankle around yours, tenderly holding it down until the meal was over. After dinner was over, Dick wished your family a goodnight.. He gave your mother who adored him a kiss on the cheek, your father a firm handshake,  and you apart on the shoulder. His fingers struggled on your bare shoulder for what seemed like forever, brushing against the edge of your neck.

And with that, Dick was gone into the night. You headed to bed and changed, not washing your lips. You had a smile on your face as you twisted and turned. It was a one time occurance, but it felt like your fantasy had come to life.

But before you knew it, it would all be over. Dick would be back on Tuesday, and the two of you would act like nothing had ever happened.

But what Dick and you didn’t know is that it wouldn't be the first time of hushed kisses, lingering fingers, and limbs grazing passionately against each other.

————

The US had entered the war overseas. Most of the boys in your class were putting a pause on their lives to go fight in Africa, The Pacific, or Europe. Anybody who was over the age of eighteen was required to draft, so town was a shit show of crying mothers, lanky boys who could possibly never come home, and military trucks. You wanted to apply to be a combat nurse, but you weren’t of the age requirement.

Dick was going to war.

Ever since the night at the lake, you and Dick kept a closted relationship. He still came over in the Summers. Some days you wouldn’t even see him. But the small moments you had together, whether that be watching the twinkling stars on your walk on the lake hand in hand or cuddled reading books on a rainy day in your isolated greenhouse porch, mattered so much. If you had a bad day, he'd sit there and listen. He wouldn’t judge or give any advice. You didn’t know if he understood your struggles, but it made you happy to know that someone would sit there and listen. For comfort, he would take the book out of your hands and bookmark it, slide off your dangling flats, and pull you into his chest.

Dick’s language of romance wasn’t grand or romantic. Although reticent, his tranquil actions were nothing but idyllic. It was the little things that counted, whether it was fresh perennial’s picked from the field or even a hug. Your relationship didn’t have to be based on gifts and what others thought of you. It was the little things that counted.

The night before he was drafted, Dick invited your family over to his farm. It was at the edge of town and down a long dirt road, leading to a little white house and large red barn. It was picturesque, a cornfield and trees for miles on end. There was no constant chatter, horns blaring, or pressure-it was just quiet.

When your parents and Dick’s parents were distracted in conversation, Dick requested to take a walk with you. As much as you enjoyed talking to the bubbly Anne, you needed a small escape. You followed Dick to the back of his tiny kitchen. Being the gentleman he was, he held the door open and let you walk ahead of him. The only noise that could be heard were the chirps of crickets and the wind gently blowing. You held a hand down on a dress your mother forced you to wear. It was a Jade summer frock, but Dick had complimented you. So it made the frock somewhat bearable.

The two of you walked in his backyard. You had no clue where he was leading you. You turned to Dick to ask. He didn’t respond with words. His fingers edged on your as you unruled your fingers, letting his hand sink into yours. His hands were worked, and you felt awful so you gently caressed the upper skin with your thumb.

“Where are we going?” You questioned as you looked left and right, clinging onto the shawl that hung from your shoulders.

Dick looked down at you. He had a subtle smile on his lips as he looked down at you. All of the anxiety he had felt about being drafted, work, and the war faded away when he looked at you. Dick didn’t need to kiss you to know that you loved him; he could tell from the gentle look of your stunning (y/e/c) eyes. He watched you look into the never ending field ahead of you, the wind blowing loose strands of your updo. You wore a little bit of makeup. It was always subtle. He knew you hated wearing makeup and did you want to do it to look “presentable”. Dick didn’t care what you looked like, whether it be in overalls or a dress, he was infatuated with you.

He should have known from day one that y/n, the mischievous daughter of his Economics professor, had been yearning for him. He attempted to get lost in the papers and speeches of your father in his regal office with the shades closed and the whiff of smoke, earth paper, and Whiskey. Even when he was trapped in the office, you were still on his mind with your elegant perfume and book in hand.

“Here.” He announced, overlooking the cornfield. The colossal, green plants waved in the wind, in front of a hazy smoky dull sunset. You didn’t respond and simply looked into the sunset, slowly watching the shining sun set into the ground. “The cornfields, they remind me of you.”

A smirk curved on your gloss lips as you squeezed his bigger, worked hand with your tinier one. “Is that so?”

“They're wild. No matter the season, they are always growing. They're not the easiest plant to manage, there...unruly.” Dick explained, still a gentle smile on his tringale face.

“Are you comparing me to a bunch of crops?” You teased as your head landed on his shoulder. “Not a lot of women find that very romantic.”

Dick leaned his head on top of yours as he, your thighs brushing against each other.

“I’m going to miss you a lot,” You broke the silence.

Dick didn’t move and had an eerie stoic expression. He tightened his grip on your hand before looking down to let out a soft sigh.

The sun didn’t shine anymore, the corn had stopped moving in the wind, and the stars didn’t sprinkle. You felt your stomach drop as goose bumps appeared on your exposed arms and legs. You froze and looked down at the grass, seeing your feet nestled right next to Dick’s.

The possibility that this could be the last time you saw Dick, held him, read with him, and kissed him haunted you. As a child, you had made it official that love was off the table. But when the giant gentle with red hair and mint eyes waltzed into your kitchen on that fateful night, your world had been turned upside down. Trying to be logical, you could live if Dick died. He was far too old to marry you, and most likely showed no interest. You could've been just a pretty face for him to silently hold before acting like you never shared tender moments in the moonlight. If he died, you would move on, marry someone your mother chose out for you, and start a mundane life of cooking, folding laundry, and having children.

But emotionally, if Dick didn’t come back to Lancaster, something would be missing from your life. Something important.

“I can’t promise anything. You know that, sweetheart.” Dick cautioned you, whispering into your hair. At Least he was being honest-better than sugar coating a sensitive subject. He tried to make you look at him, but you refused. You were being stubborn, pushing away the emotions and trying to think logically. But in all honesty, it was catching up to you know. Tears stung at your eyes as your mouth quivered.

“I know, you don’t have to tell me, ” You sniffled, “I’m not an idiot. I prefer it if you be straightforward with me.” Dick looked at you with his thin eyebrows knit together and narrowed eyes. After sharing such a kind moment, he most likely wouldn't wanna break news that would tear your heart to pieces.

You preferred if he’d just spit out the words and get it over with. Make it easier for both of you to handle.

He moved on his hands to your cheek to wipe the incoming tears, but you refused. You turned your head and swiped the tears with your shaky palm, red lipstick and mascara staining your skin.

You scoffed in frustration, “Just say you want me to break up with me. It’s for the better. I’ll go to school, you go to war. We act like nothing ever happened. For the greater good. It was fun while it lasted..But I...nevermind.” You looked down at the ground, refusing to look at Dick. One glance and the next thing you would know, tears would be streaming down your face as you ran into the night.

Dick turned and followed after you as your footsteps increased with a few mumbled sniffles. “That’s not what I wanted to say-”

A pained sob escaped your mouth as you walked forward, a red face with tears streaming down your cheek. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be. Please, for the better of us. It’s better to use your mind over your heart and not worry about some young, naive girl who had a crush on her father’s best student!”

“Y/n...”

You continued to walk forward and ignore Dick’s pleas, but your stomping slowed down.

“Y/n...”

Dick was creeping up behind your. Your speed walking slowly turned into slow, sluggish steps. Tears streamed down your face as your hands slung at your sides. Dick was now right behind you, watching you as you sniffled. You slowly turned your head to look at him with mascara running down your face.

“Oh, Sweetheart..” Dick softly sighed. Your whole body turned around as you fell into his arms, letting out a loud sob. Small sniffles turned into wails as you cried into his chest, staining the ivory collared shirt. He stroked your hair as he ran reassuring circles on your back. He wanted you to get all of those pestering emotions out. After a few minutes of sobbing and Dick comfortingly holding you close, he broke the silence.

“That’s not why I brought you here,” Dick cooed into your hair as he traced mindless figures into your lower back.

You looked up with your big (e/y/c) orbs, letting out a little sniffle. He had a soft smile on his face as he wiped a stray hair from your face, slowly tucking it behind your hair. “Then...why did you bring me here..?”

“This cornfield holds a special place in my heart. I come here a lot. It’s peaceful, but lonely.” Dick explained as he grabbed your hand, holding your tiny one in his own. He looked down at you, “After working with your father, I’d come home and run here. I’d stop midway to look at the wind and the way it moved the corn. It was so relaxing, so that’s why I brought you here.”

“To not feel lonely?”

“Yes. I felt alone, until I met you.” He admired, “I was surrounded by people, but I still felt alone. But when I spent time with you, I didn’t feel alone at all. It was a highlight to see you, even if it was sitting across from each other at a table or seeing you, laying on the porch. I looked at you and I got happy.”

“Dick, I…” You were speechless. His words wanted your heart, but his message baffled you. “Appreciate your kindness, but what do you mean?”

The gentle strawberry blonde held your hand. He didn’t hold it tight, but used both his hands to hold them up. He slowly backed up and lowered himself on one knee. From the books you had read, you knew what this way. Initiatively, you would’ve said no and ran away. But Dick had courted you with his gentle hold, reassuring words, and sheer presence.

“I couldn’t keep it any longer. I know there’s a chance that this will be the last time you see me for a while or at all. I said I couldn’t promise anything, but I..can’t hide it. I love you, y/n. I don’t care if you want to start school and make your own money, I don’t care if you wear pants, I don’t care what you do. I care about your happiness. I want you to live a long and happy life. You’re the most beautiful and intelligent woman I have ever met. I understand you’re young, and you can turn this down if it’s too much. Dick announced as he pulled a velvet box from the back of his pants, he opened the box to reveal a golden Celtic band. You put a hand on your mouth in joyous disabelif. “I want to be with you, but only if you want to be with me. You’d never be alone...Will you marry me, y/n?”

“Dick, this is…” You chuckled in disbelief. One minute you were crying, now you were laughing. Dick in one hand held a beautiful ring, and the other hand your delicate hand. “Wonderful. But my parents...they…”

“I talked to your father. He said pick out a white dress you want.” Dick replied. “You’re mother cried. I thought she was upset, but she was beyond happy. She told me she knew you had an eye on me since I started coming over for dinner. They approved...but if you don’t want this, I understand. I just couldn’t hold it in, even if I don’t come ba-“

“Yes, Yes, yes, yes, yes…” Your words started low, but then turned to loud cheers. You squealed, nodding enthusiastically. “I will, Dick. I’ll marry you. I don’t care. If something does happen, I'll be happy knowing that I’m yours. Even if you don’t…” the three lettered words struggled to come out your mouth. It was such a rough word. Unable to bring yourself to say it, you chose to leave your pessimistic side for something more optimistic. “I won’t be alone, even if you’re in Europe, The Pacific, wherever. I’ll just know you’re here, in my heart and dreams.”

It turned out that this whole dinner was a setup by your family and the Winters. It just had to be Anne Winters that she found about your relationship with Winters. Being sixteen and sassy, she casually shrugged it off and stated that “Dick was a horrible liar”. It should have been obvious with Dick’s favourite meal, the fact that you were placed right next to time, Anne’s teasing, and your mother pestering for you to look presentable. It all made sense now.

But there was one ball in the air-the ceremony. Dick would be leaving for Toccoa the next day, the afternoon. Your parents wanted a big ceremony for the morning. The Winters didn’t care-they just wanted the two of you to be happy considering that Dick was going to be away for a long time or forever.

You and Dick had to come to an agreement. You announced at the end of dessert that you would wait to be married until Dick came back from the war.

Obviously, this caused a bit of uproar. But with Dick leaving tomorrow, they chose not to make a big deal of it. As long as you and Dick were happy, your families could be nothing but be happy for you. Even if it was a short amount of time.

After the storm that settled, you and Dick had left his house. You hopped in his truck and drove to the local chapel Dick had attended with his family every Sunday. In the middle of the night, the two of you eloped. He made sure to pull over and pick out a group of Perennials, all kinds of your favorites. You even stuffed some into your messy updo which had turned into a half updo.

After your quiet ceremony, the two of you drove back to your estate. There, the two of you spent your first, and poetically final, night together in your childhood bedroom; making love, cuddling, and cherishing every moment you shared with each other.

The variety of perennials’s Dick had picked out were placed into a blue and white ginger jar. It was meant to be a memory of Dick. He wouldn’t be there psychically, but spiritually, he would be right there.

Dick was surprised to learn that you weren’t a virgin. He was raised a Mennonite, waiting for marriage. You, being a curious young woman, had experimented. It was once, and an unpleasant experience. Before, you had felt indifferent about sex. It was something that women were meant to desire. You were told to be a virgin and wait for a man to take control of you. Hating those words, you chose to do the opposite. Nobody knew of your little secret, besides Dick-your husband.

Dick was nothing like the boy you had lost your virginity to. Unlike that boy, he was a man. Not because he was masculine and tough, but because he treated you like his equal. He never treated you any differently from your father. Dick had morals and integrity, he was compassionate, quiet but polite, open-minded, and used his brain and heart. That was what you defined a real man as.

Dick treated you like you were made of glass. He wanted to make sure everything was perfect for you. He didn’t care about his feelings, he only cared about yours. He wanted to make sure that you were enjoying yourself. You aided him in some areas, but the two of you were on a ride after a rocky start. Dick always asked how you were doing, if you wanted him to stop, go slower, or if you needed to break. He left sloppy kisses all over your body and had his hands wrapped around you like a young child with a bear. Dick didn’t let go of you once.

That night, the two of you held each other close as you chatted for hours on end. That was what you had looked forward to, not the sex. Sex was still a big piece in your marriage, but it wasn’t the most important. You looked forward to the long and mindless conversations the two of you had. Dick held you in his warm arms, toned and muscles from the workout’s he did year round. He would hold you close to his body as the two of you discussed life after the war.

It didn’t matter what the future held. If Dick was gone for one year, ten years, or forever. What mattered was the two of you had each other in your little moment of peace before all hell would break loose.

You and Dick had chatted the whole night away. The next thing you knew, you would go from the bedroom to the train station. It was a moment you dreaded, but it had to be done. Dick once again had a stoic expression. He kissed his mother, your mother, and sister, shook his father's and your father’s hand, and gave you a long sweet kiss on the lips. Dick struggled to pull away, but he knew it was for the best. Before climbing onto the train, he promised to write to you at every opportunity he got and tell you about Europe, the war, and anything he desired to tell you.

The next thing you knew, you were alone again.

When you arrived home, you kicked off your shoes and walked up the stairs. Your mother asked if you were okay, to which you silently nodded your head. Your father had noticed your unusual silence. He had offered to take you shopping, thinking that money would make you happy. All you did was politely decline and retreat to your bedroom.

Your room was stuck in time. The sheets were all over the floor and Dick’s tall figure that had been imprinted on the left side of your bed. The dress your mother forced you to wear laid on the floor, along with your flats and pearls.

The sun shined through the curtains as you crawled onto the side where Dick had laid. You closed your eyes and sunk into his pillow, holding onto the disappearing scent of your husband.

On Top of the books, you had been reading were the perennials; lavender, daylilies, and stonecrops. You looked up from the pillow, your nose buried into the pillow and a blanket loosely covering your legs.

Suddenly, you didn’t feel that so alone anymore.

———

One year turned into two, two turned into three, and three turned into four. You kept the calendar’s from over the years in your room, neatly stored under your bed. You found it funny how time flew by. You could remember the first day of walking in your classroom and the day you walked off the podium with your diploma. The pretty perennials that Dick had given you from what seemed like a decade ago had died. They were withered and derived of the bright colors they once had, hanging on the side of the blue and white ginger jar. The perennials reminded you of yourself. Once you had been a fiery young girl, and now you were an exhausted graduate student who was bound to become a widow.

Around the time you had found work at Lancaster, BBC announced that the war was over in Europe. That should have phased you and made you jump up with glee, but in all reality, it didn’t. The optimistic side you once had was long gone, turning into a pessimistic bitterness. The war was over in Europe, but not in The Pacific. Dick still wouldn’t be coming home, and you learned to accept that.

Sure, he had sent you letters in the beginning. Lots of them. He would talk about his adventures in training, his dreadful drill sergeant, his friend who was a “one of those city folk”, and so many more things. He expressed his boyish pride in being a patriot for his country. His little letters used to make your day. But as the leaves fell from the trees and the years passed, his letters would slow down. The last one you had received in January, written in December. It was short and sweet. The letter rested  in your drawer. As the days passed on, a small part of you broke. You had been married for five years, yet you felt like you weren’t even married. No Dick kissing you, holding you in your arms, or comforting you in your darkest moments.

When the flowers had slowly withered, so did your hope.

But that all changed on a warm September day. Your mother had called you from your room, not specifying what was awaiting for you at the door. You grumbled and got up, taking off your glasses as you walked down the stairs, expecting to see another colleague trying to woo you.

You didn’t expect to see a tall man with a soft smile, strawberry hair, and a neat military uniform. Your husband-Dick Winters.

It was like a weight had been lifted off of your shoulders. You dropped everything, running right into his arms. You buried your face in his chest as he pulled you in close, his worked hands resting on your lower back and hair. He smelt amazing, and his uniform was soft. You missed his tender touch and soft words. It had been forever since you had seen him. In that moment, nothing mattered. No words needed to be spoken. In all honesty, you never wanted or needed pity from others. You just wanted someone-Dick-to be close. You thought of yourself as a coward, but all you wanted to feel was alright.

“Sweetheart, I missed you. I’m so sorry,” He apologized, stroking your embrace. His voice was stoic, as usual. It really was Dick. He was home and in your arms, at last.

“Don’t. Just stay. Please.” You softly cooed into his chest. No, you couldn’t let go now.

Dick let out a soft chuckle and stayed in the embrace. War was a strange beast. It stripped families of their children and caused mass discussion. Dick thought he wouldn’t come home and see his wife who had married the night before he was drafted. As the years had gone by, Dick began to regret his choice. What if he had left you a widow?

But that was the past. It was gone-nothing to waste tears on. In your extended embrace, the future didn’t matter, it wasn’t worth stressing. Dick and you lived in the present moment and made it beautiful.

-----------

Nothing had changed after Dick had come home. Life was still the same, except you weren’t as alone. Dick was still his stoic self. He was a doting husband. You expected him to struggle when he returned to civilian life. He wasn't used to homemade dinners and a bed much-the flashes of exploding limbs and artillery flashing through his eyes. Both you and Dick were independent. It wasn’t a bad thing. You could spend hours reading as he did a puzzle in another. On some days, the two of you would do activities together. You’d lay your head in his lap as he’d did his puzzle. On other days, Dick would be needier. Originally, he wasn’t vocal about it. It took you a while to catch onto it. He held your hand more in public, pulled you closer as you slept, and whenever he was in a mood-he’d come right to you and just give you a look. You knew the look all too well-and knew how to cure it. Dick would wrap his arms as you snuggled into his chest and talk about anything your minds came to. Sometimes you’d talk, but other times the two of you would close yours and fall asleep. Dick wouldn’t have any nightmares if held you close for comfort.

Without you, Dick didn’t know what he would do. How he could return to the simplicity of life.

Somehow, he returned. And every day he made sure to thank you for making him feel like a human and not a machine-whether that be through a gentle peck, a cuddle, or even a literal “thank you”. He loved you more than anything in the world.

----------

Shortly after Dick returned, the two of you moved out to New Jersey. His “city-boy” friend (his name was Lewis Nixon, but Dick called him Lew) had offered him a job at his parent’s nutrition company. So off the two of you drove from Lancaster to the suburbs of Haddonfield. Haddonfield and Lancester were virtually the same; small country bumpkin towns isolated from the big cities.

You and Dick had bought your first house (which was given by Nixon was a “late honeymoon gift). It was a small colonial house in a tiny suburb, pristine white with red doors. The decorations in the house were limited, a few photos of your and his family with elegant furniture gifted from your parents. It was a little big for your liking. It was a nice gift, but in Nixon’s words, it was for the “incoming armada of redheads”.

Babies. Children. Of your kin.

Dick had mentioned having children. When he was still adjusting, he’d hold you close as he talked about his plans for the future. Buy a farm in Pennsylvania, build his own business, and start a family of his own. He had told you that anywhere you would go, he would go. Anything you wanted, he wanted. He was about thirty two and you were close to turning twenty-five. It was expected at your age to have young children, but with no husband around and a job, it was difficult to settle down. You would gulp and smile, looking down as you held his hand.

Dick didn’t want to pressure you. He knew that were siginactiatly younger. Times were changing, you had a job and life of your own. He never wanted to interfere with it. When you would get insecure about not being the “ideal wife”, he’d reassure you that you were his wife and didn’t have to do anything you didn’t want. Dick wasn’t a man who put fear into others to get what he wanted. He was a patient and gentle soul.

You had tried a few times here and there. As much as you tried to enjoy something that was pleasurable, it was painful. You hid it from Dick, but Dick wasn’t an idiot. Dick wanted you to enjoy it. You could his mint eyes, hungry yet soft, as he laid on top of you, both of your hands restricted as you did the deed.

You weren’t making any noises, looking to the side. Something was wrong, you knew it. But you couldn’t break it to Dick. How would he react?

Dick catched onto his. He pulled himself together and pulled out. You looked at him and gave him a stubble style as he scooted closer to you, his breath heavy and gelled hair a mess.

“Hey,” You smiled awkwardly, clenching at the sheets.

Dick looked at you, a smile curving as his lips as his hand caressed your cheek. “How is my wife doing?”

It was a private nickname. He called you it after the war, especially when he was feeling vulnerable. Sometimes it was “my little wife”, which could be sweet or driven by lust. The little nickname made your heart skip a beat. You were proud to be his.

“Good. I’m tired,” You yawned as you held his hand close, playing with his big fingers.

Dick looked at your face as he admired your natural beauty, a pearly smile, your hair loose on the pillow, and your figure covered by a thin sheet. His hand moved from your cheek, your nape, and eventually your stomach. He drew slow, soft circles around your tummy.

“My little wife with our baby,” Dick remarked, his fingers dancing across your bare skin. Any girl would’ve fallen head over heels if a man had said that. You should have been happy, you wanted a family.

But how could you tell him?

There was a long silence between the two of you. All you did was look into his mint orbs, stroking his hair out of his face.

“I hope he, or she, looks like you. So they get their mother’s beauty.” Dick looked down at your stomach and planted a kiss.

You gulped, thinking of a response. A pretty white lie. “And there’s dad’s redhead and kindness. If you’re a little guy, I’ll tell you that it’s hard to find a man like your day.”

“And it’s hard to find a woman like your mother. She’s a firecracker,” Dick jabbed as he playfully ruffled his hair.

“Dick…” Your words were low as you held back a sob. You plastered a smile, it hurt to lie. “We don’t even know if it’s a boy or girl. I don’t even know if I have a baby there…”

“Well…” Dick laid his head on your stomach, gently finessing the skin under your breast. “If It was a girl, what would her name be?”

You hated the feeling-naming a baby that wasn’t in your stomach. Dick believed that you were pregnant, or at least he believed you were. In response, you bit your lips-looking like you were deep in thought.

“Margaret,” You announced, “Molly for short. After my grandmother, in her memory.”

Dick tilted his head up and nodded, “For your grandma,” He planted another kiss and rested his head once again, “A boy?”

“Lewis? You like that fellow a lot.”

Dick shook his head, “No. I can’t look at him and our child the same way.”

You let out a chuckle before shaking your head. An image of a little baby flashed between your eyes. Mint eyes, dimples, and soft red hair. You wished it would occur.

“I can’t think of a name. You?”

Dick was silent for a minute as he laid on your stomach, your fingers entangled in his locks.

“Thomas. His name could be Thomas,” Dick proposed.

“Why is that?” You questioned.

Dick let out a sigh before crawling up to you, pulling you into his arms,“He was a C.O, to replace Sobel. I didn’t know him for long since his plane was hit. He’s listed as missing in action...but,” He froze on the words, unable to say it. You looked up at him Dick, who looked to the side with guilt tugging at his heart. You planted a kiss on his chin.

“He was twenty-two years old, just married. He sent a letter out to his wife to tell her that he was coming home. She still believes he’s out there, lost in some forest, finding his way home..” Dick looked down at you. Just like Meehan, he had been freshly married, sending out a letter. While Dick had kept his short and sweet (he didn’t want to promise anything), Meehan was too big for his britches. He didn’t show his fear, confidence in the face of adversity.

“Okay, Thomas it is. I like that name” You expressed.

Dick saw your face glow up, and so did his. He smiled, nodding along. “Thomas and Margaret,” He looked at your stomach once more, running his hand across your flat stomach. “I like that too.”

You nuzzled into his chest as he planted little kisses on the nape of your neck, holding you close for warmth. The two of you remained there, the only noise being your breathing.

Pulling your head back, Dick moved his hands down to your lower back to pull you up, closer to his face. “Y/n?”

“Yes, Dick?” You looked into his mint eyes, the candle in the room glittering in his orbs.

Dick held your cheek as he admired your face, “I love you, my little wife.”

You looked down before looking at your husband, moving slowly up to his face.

“And I love you two, my big husband.”

Maybe time stopped when Dick’s lips had met yours, but the flutter only intensified. Your heart pounded in your chest as your knees went numb. You could only focus on how soft Dick felt against your mouth, how addictively he invaded all of your senses.

It wasn’t clear if you had dreamed this all, but the raw emotion in the way Dick’s fingers curled against yours. Dick kept his eyes open, sneaking a guilt peak every time you took a breath for air, just to make sure you weren’t a product of his imagination.

You weren’t sure if nature rooted for this moment, but it distracted you from everything. You just laid there with Dick, draped each other's arms as you sloppily kissed. Dick pulled you in once again, gently placing his lips onto yours until your knees had once again gone numb, overpowered by his. His other hand rested on your stomach as he murmured Margaret and Thomas, talking about how excellent of a mother you would be to your babies.

By the time you became aware of this, you froze, letting Dick kiss your body. You looked at the ceiling, hands in his hair as he decorated your skin.

It was like a car had run into you, throwing you down to the side-a rude awakening. As much as you denied it, it was creeping up on you.

There was no Thomas. There was no Magaret. There was never going to be a Thomas or Margaret.

Your stomach was flat, nothing moved. There was no life in your stomach ever. No matter how many times you tried, wished, prayed, there was only one conclusion.

There would never be a son or a daughter in your stomach-ever.

From that point on, life was slow. You woke up, gave Dick a kiss goodbye, worked from home, cooked dinner, read with Dick, fell asleep at an ungodly hour, and repeated the mundae routine everyday. With Dick being a general manager, he would work late hours. At some points, the only time you would see him is late at night when he’d crawl into bed giving you a kiss or early in the morning. Still, in his weary and stressed state, he’d always kiss your stomach every night and morning.

With your irregular cycles, constant negative tests, and pelvic pain becoming more evident in your marriage, you decided it was best to see your Doctor. As much as you didn’t want to know the possibility of what could be wrong, at least you would have an idea of what it was and how to make it better.

It turned out you couldn’t make your problem better. The doctor had a sympathetic look in your eyes as he listed off possibilities. You just sat there and looked at your stomach; your cold hands pressing against your stomach.

You were infertile.

There was never a Margaret growing in your stomach, nor was there a Thomas. There was nothing in your stomach.

How the hell were you going to tell your doting husband this?

---------

It was another Friday night in September. The leaves fell from the trees, the radio softly played in the back, it was peaceful in your little white house. Dick still hadn’t come home yet. You attempted to act like everything was normal as you put on a nice dress, pearls, and a fake pearly smile. It was all fine.

Nothing was fine.

You stood at the edge of the cliff, looking down into the haunting abyss. This feeling of dread and tightness became background noise as if it were traffic on an unseen road. There were times where you could handle it, and times where you could not. This was a day where you couldn’t handle it. Each day passed, and the more you repressed it-it hurt. It hurt even more than it was supposed to.

You were faced with a dead-end, a terrifying one, with thoughts of temptation and contemplation. You felt even lost in your own home and marriage, feeling helpless and scared. This wasn’t supposed to happen. In the partial society you lived in, a woman’s identity revolved around the ability to convenience. As a girl, you laughed it off, saying you’d do what you’d please. But you were no longer a fiery girl, but a broken and bitter woman. Bitter at the world for forcing the idea that women were baby machines. You, as you typically did, pushed it away.

Stuffed it into a closet, but it was now pouring out. All the baggage that you had repressed was right in front of you. You never felt like you belonged in the parthricaral society you lived in with their white picket fences and predictable lifestyles. That didn’t mean you didn’t want a family of your own. You had a husband, a job, a house, everything seemed perfect. But one thing was missing-a baby.

The older you had gotten, the more it affected you. Going to those parties for Dick’s job and seeing all the wives with their babies and fumbling toddlers. You didn’t feel anything towards them at first, but they eventually grew on you. Dick’s first few days home contained long conversations about what your lives would be after the way. You would chat with him for hours about it to distract from the nightmares that flooded his mind, holding his hand.

“A nice little farm near Lancaster, one or two kids, my own business, and the most important thing...you ” Dick would say, his words full of love. “My wonderful little wife, Margaret, Thomas, and me, on our farm. We’ll have each other.”

The kettle boiled in the water, the loud noise screeching in the kitchen. You dropped the knife and heard it clack onto the ground. All you did was stand there with wide eyes and shaky legs, looking down at the ground as your nails dug into the counter.

You couldn’t bear him children-you tried and tried and tried but to no avail. If you were not Dick’s, then what were you?

---------

Dick had taken off his trench coat, sliding his shoes off as he neatly put them right next to yours. He let out a sigh as he loosened his tie. Work had been stressful once again. All he could think about was seeing you and his growing little babies. Of course, he never told anybody. But knowing the thought was between you and him made it special-something so personal and beautiful. He couldn’t wait to see your face and hold you close, talking for hours on end. Anything you said or did made him head over heels, just like it had done to you five years ago. You had been distant and not your usual self, and Dick was worried. He knew of the insecurities you had, feeling like you never had fit into a certain mold.  

He had walked into the kitchen and instead of finding you, he found a dropped knife and kettle that was overflowing with boiling water. It looked like you had left in a hurry. He made sure to check all of the doors to see if you had left, in which you had no. In a calm manner, Dick cleaned up the kettle and put the knife back where it was. He wanted to help so you wouldn’t stress.

The pitter-patter of the shower coming from upstairs alerted Dick. He walked up the stairs and down the dark hallway, seeing the bathroom light creak from the bathroom. Creaking the door open, the all to familiar noise hit his ears. The bathroom was foggy as the shower ran. Looking down, Dick saw the water come to his feet, staining his wet socks. Your flats were spread on the ground along with your knit cardigan, soggy from the water. Inside of the shower was you, clothed with your makeup running, hugging your knees as you looked down.

Dick let out a soft sigh as he looked at you, his shoulder slouching down. It was paining him to see you in this state, “Oh honey..”

You didn’t move, only your eyes did. He walked towards you, into the shower. He wore a white suit and dress pants, which were now we're stuck to his skin. He put himself right next to you as the hot water warmed his cold skin. You adjusted yourself to lean on his wet shoulder. Dick said there as you leaned on him for comfort, listening to the white noise of the shower.

“I tried,” You mumbled as your fingers ran circles in his arm.

Dick looked down at you with his strawberry hair sticking to his forehead and drips of water rushing down his face. He frowned, tiping his head to the side.

“I tried and tried, time after time. I tried so hard and I…” You lamented, grasping onto Dick’s arm. It was hard to spit out the words. You had already said the first half of it, you needed to say more. “I just can’t. I can’t do it.”

“Do what?” Dick questioned, his fingers lifting your chin. Tears streamed down your cheeks, your mascara coming down along with it. His thumb wiped away the incoming hot tears. He was too kind to you. His mere presence reassured you. “Don’t cry, my little wife. Let me help you. Whatever it is, whatever you need, I-”

“I can’t have children. Not now, or ever.” The words came out your mouth. It felt like you were spitting fire. It felt strange like a weight was lifted off your shoulders. Even though it was gone, it still lingered. “I went to the doctor last week. I’m infertile, Dick.”

Dick just sat with a frown on his face. You couldn’t tell what was going through his head. His free arm had wrapped around your shoulder was slowly falling as he let go of your chin, making an “oh” noise.

You looked at him and let out a sob as your face fell into your hands. “I didn’t wanna tell you. I know you’ve wanted children, every man wants that for their wife. You want a son who looks like you, and a wife who can provide that for you. I can’t. I wanted it too, but I watched my dream break. I’m supposed to give you a baby like a normal wife should...” Through the sniffling and sobs, you refused to look at Dick. He seemed disappointed, but you could never tell what he was feeling. “If you want a wife who can give you a child, then, by all means, do so. I’m worthless.”

You could feel it. Your relationship was over. Maybe it was for the better. Dick could start his family, and you could work a job in Philadelphia. They did have an opening in Philadelphia. It was better to have nobody-so you couldn’t get hurt and hurt others around you.

“No,”

Slowly removing your hands from your face, you turned to Dick. You scooted back, not able to tell if he was upset at you. “No?”

“No. You’re not worthless, y/n.” Dick attested, “What would make you think such a thing?”

“We’ve always wanted a family down the line. You would kiss my stomach every night, talking to the...” You looked down at your flat stomach, your hand gently squeezing the skin. It broke your heart even more just feeling what Dick assumed was Margaret and Thomas. “Just didn’t want you to get mad at me. I know you're upset with me.”

“Don’t give me that malarkey,” He growled, crawled closer to you as he grabbed your cheeks with your foreheads nuzzling towards each other. You could feel the warmth on the top of your forehead, “I’m not upset. You didn’t have to hide this from me. I should’ve known, I’m so sorry sweetheart.”

Dick tenderly grabbed your shoulders and leaned you back on the white subway wall. He was gentle as he wiped the sticky hair from your face for a clearer view. He had a soft smile as he caressed your cheek with you leaning into it.

“But if I can’t give you children, what good use am I?”

“The reason I married you wasn’t that I wanted a family. At that moment, in that cornfield, I wanted you to be my wife. If I didn’t tell you, I don’t know if I would’ve died content with my life,” Dick complimented with a kiss to your wet hand. “You're not just a pawn used for children-my little wife. Just because you can’t have children doesn’t mean I won’t leave you. I wouldn’t even consider the thought. It’d be hard to find someone like you, y/n. Nobody as hardworking, beautiful, and fiery”

A chuckle escaped your lips, “Like a cornfield?”

“Like a cornfield,” He assured. “I don’t care about children, the past, the future, anything. I married you because I was in love with the beautiful, growing woman five years ago, and I still am. All I care about is my little wife, y/n-you. I love you.”

You nuzzled into his shoulder, “I..love you too, Dick.”

Silent communication was your and Dick’s form of romance. You didn’t need big gestures and materialistic gifts to feel comforted, sometimes you just needed someone right next to you, or in your arms. The silence was nice and the warmth was needed. Dick’s warmth felt like a little touch of heaven, warm, together, cozy. You wished that you could extend the night just so you could stay in his comforting embrace, relived in his hold. In his hold, you believed that there is nothing to fear, that there is all sunshine and love. Dick was the cure you needed, a lone star in an otherwise empty sky, he was the morningstar that you prayed wouldn’t disappear.

“I’ll make us dinner,” Dick said as he got up. “I’ll even run you a bath. Does that sound good, my little wife?”

Your fingers held the tip of his hands. Your (y/c/e)‘s met with his mint ones that shined in the pristine light. He gently helped you up with a hand resting on your waist.

Resting a hand on his chin, you looked down and shook your head. “I want to make dinner with you. I feel clean.”

“Are you sure?” Dick questioned, pulling you closer to his body. “I know you haven’t been sleeping.”

“Well I’m not tired. I haven’t felt like we’ve talked lately. You’ve been gone and I’ve been distant.” You confessed. The brutally honest was needed now. You tipped your head to look at Dick. “I wouldn’t mind a helping hand.”

“Fine, if you insist,” He placed his hand on your upper back and swept you off your fear. You let out a little chuckle as you snaked an arm around his shoulder for stability, “You said you needed a helping hand.”

Once you and Dick changed out of your wet clothes and into your matching silk robes (gifted by Lew, the man even had your initials engraved into the pocket), the two of you headed down to the kitchen to cook. The radio played in the back and the kettle silently brewed as you sautéed the chicken and Dick set the small table in the tiny dining space.

“Hey, y/n?”

“Yeah?” You looked behind you as you washed your hands of the greasy oils and spices.

“Did you grow up with dogs?”

You nodded as you dried your hands, “Two-a Westie and Cairn terrier. Your point?”

Dick came over the counter as he leaned on it with a smirk. It wasn’t condescending, but it looked like an idea had popped in his head. You loved it when he smirked or smiled; the dimples on his cheeks would show.

“I know you get lonely when I’m not around. Lew knows a lot of good breeders in the area. How do two dogs sound?”

You were lonely. Loneliness was a feeling you knew all too well. It haunted you as a child and adult. Except when you were a child, you thought it would disappear. But in truth, it did not.

“Two dogs sound nice, Dick,” You confessed. The kettle began to make a shrieking noise. Walking over, you grabbed two cups and poured hot water into them. The water from clear to a darkish brown. You let the bags settle for a few minutes before taking the two cups over and handing one to your strawberry blonde husband.

“There breed? Are we sure Lew won’t try and steal them?”

“Well, Lew wouldn’t steal them. He and Grace already have enough animals to take care of,” Dick put his two big hands around the mug. “Two terriers, a boy, and girl. Just like the ones you grew up with.”

“Ok,” You smiled, raising your eyebrows. “And their names?”

Dick took a sip of his tea before smacking his thin lips. “I was thinking of Margaret and Thomas. Do you like that?”

You finally knew the answer to why Dick was asking about getting dogs. Not that you were in protest. Dogs were like children-just easier to take care of.

“Yeah, I like that a lot.”

Dick put a hand over yours, giving it a reassuring squeezed. He smiled at you, and you smiled back.

Within the week, Lew had come over with the cutest puppies you had ever seen. He had also brought over all of the necessary supplies for two puppies, and even two sweaters with their names. One was a feisty and quiet Westie named Thomas and the other was a sweetheart with a sour side named Margaret. You and Dick loved them more than anything in the world. They were fed Filet Mignon from the table, slept in between you and Dick, and always for what they wanted. Even Dick gave into their puppy eyes whenever they got into trouble. The reason he wanted dogs in the first place was for his little wife; y/n-you. Not only did he want to make you feel a little less lonely in your little colonial house, but protected. Dick wasn’t always there to look out for you, even though he knew you could handle yourself just fine. Still, it was the thought that counted. Knowing that you would have two little balls of energy to keep you entertained made Dick content, and so did you.

Lewis Nixon was right all along. He never saw you and Dick having children. In his wise words, dogs were “far superior” than children. Dogs didn’t cry as much, they weren’t as needy, and they didn’t wake you up in the middle of the night. Mostly.

You would see the way the dogs would interact with Dick, and how Dick would interact with them. He’d treat them like children. From rocking Margaret in his arms to having long conversations with Thomas about why he shouldn’t bite you his mother while you peacefully sleep, it made your heart skip a beat, seeing Dick be so gentle with the two puppies.

Every night before you would head to bed, Dick would always remind you that his dream had finally come true; buying the little patch of land in Lancaster for the farm was within reach. He’d give you a kiss and pull you close as the two of you fell asleep in each other's arms.

You broke away from the terrifying cliff that you had looked down, heading towards your morning star, Dick, with hope that it wouldn’t disappear.

[grotesquehorse]

1, 8 & 10!!

hiiii gene <3

1. what is a thing you created this year and really love? i did make a post with all of my favorite creations in 2021, but besides that i really like this cas + bee symbolism post it took like 5 minutes, but i think it's cute <33 i also made this really basic edit about jack and prim after reading catching fire, almost exactly a year ago, and i might remake it tbh

8. give a rec! what's a piece by someone else you found inspiring? i think about the @katebushstandean bat out of hell amv DAILY. i gotta find some lesser known stuff hold on. OH ally @lesbianjoannaharvelle made this amara amv to a hole song. this isn't supernatural, but its fast & furious and richard siken and i think about it extremely often.

10. what's something you want to do/do more of in 2022? i JUST finished a poetry book last night and i want to make a couple of edits from it! i would like to make more jack, claire, etc edits, instead of just. dean and cas and sam. (i DID make sam edits, at one point). but yeah i have a jack edit planned :) the book club is also officially starting in 2022 so keeping up with that will be fun :)

honestly this was a big year of creating content for me. the supernatural statistics report, rating comparison spreadsheet, basically all of my good edits, and the book club was all created in 2021. i don't know how to top that.

end of year fandom creator asks

[neocity-sarai]

“Love in _____ “ series

❀ chapter 3: reader x jaemin

❀ forbidden love

❀ alerts: fluff, tinge of angst, language, suggestive, making out, i do not speak fluent french whatsoever, please forgive the mistakes, mentions of the dreamies

❀ song rec: “paris” by sabrina carpenter

“Love in Paris”

You’re surprised how you managed to make it this far. When you first told your parents that you wanted to move to Paris, they shot you down even before you finished. You told them you wanted to live by yourself to experience independence in a cultural epicenter and have some type of outlet to practice your french skills. Not that you were an expert in any way. Several days later, your father convinced your mother that it would be a good way to see the world and live in an environment that was different from your dull, quiet neighborhood. Before you knew it, you were on a one-way plane to Paris, France. 

Several months later

Thankfully, you were pretty decent at your french skills without butchering the accent you had to adopt when speaking. You got a job at a nearby cafe that was close to your studio apartment but you couldn’t feel any happier. Despite having such a small room, you adored it. All you had was a small bed, a wooden vanity, a mirror, and a few belongings from home. Every morning, you’d wake up to the honey-colored window next to your bed as you hung your arms out of it- looking at the Eiffel tower that scraped against the dawn sky. It was like you were living in a painting, the way that the sky turned a light shade of lilac during twilight or how the city glowed in the late hours of the night. In the mornings, you’d always pick up a bouquet of pansies in the market that resided in the Jardin des Tuileries. You’d place the flowers in a crystal glass that you found in some vintage store in passing, you considered it your best investment. During the night time, you always felt yourself relaxing with the sound of occasional car honks or the buskers playing their accordions on the streets. You’d put your headphones on to play some soft music, swirling a glass of red wine that sat in your hand. Over the first few weeks of coming there, you mostly stuck to your day to day routine rather than exploring Paris for yourself. When you had the time, you promised that you would scour the city by every corner and alley. You just had to earn your rent money first.

You actually found the boulangerie by accident. You made a wrong turn somewhere and discovered a quaint, two story bakery that was called, “Claudette’s.” By chance, you decided to follow the comforting scent of fresh bread and honey-glazed pastries, an older woman who wore a chiffon skirt smiled at you. The establishment only had a couple customers in it, she made her way around the corner, “Comment puis-je vous aider madame?” 

You answered her, “Embauchez- vous?”

“Oui.”

You walked closer to her, shaking her hand, “Je voudrais travailler ici. Parlez vous anglais?”

“Oui, un peu.”

“Merci.”

Though you could speak french without many problems, you still preferred speaking in english. You’re grateful that the woman was willing to cooperate with you. She eyed you curiously. She seemed like a character straight out of a novel as her hair piled into a messy bun of white, her apron is embroidered with tiny blossoms, and she looked extremely young for how old she actually was. In a heavy french accent she spoke to you, “Are you new in Paris?”

“I am, since a few months ago.”

“What- er, why work at my shoppe?”

Though the job is to make money, you really did want to experience the life of working in a bakery. You always were interested in how to make coffee or how to ice cakes and back home, you just couldn’t. You continue, “I want to learn from you, mademoiselle.”

“Call me Claudette, welcome.”

After your encounter with Claudette, you had been in Paris for nearly a year. Time flew by and you hadn’t even noticed. You were comfortable after trying and failing to make french-foam macchiatos, mixing up people’s orders, and getting the texture of the pastries right. You were thankful that Claudette was patient with you. 

Like every other Monday morning, you swung the sign that hung on the bakery’s door to open, taking the morning rush on by yourself. Claudette entrusted the shoppe to you when she needed to sort out inventory or go on errands. You didn’t mind that, knowing your customers’ names, conversations about their lives. When you finally got to the end of the line, a peculiar customer had stepped foot through the doorway. He seemed to be taller than you, dressed in a white t-shirt and a blue blazer with matching pants to go with it. The odd part was that you couldn’t clearly see his face as it was covered with a black scarf, hat, and blake sunglasses. Why did it seem like he was trying to hide his face? You asked him, “Comment puis-je vous aider?”

“Je voudrais un expresso, pas de lait.”

“Donc tout noir?”

“Huh?” Despite the dark shades over his eyes, you could still sense the boy’s confusion in his voice. You took your chances, “Are you fluent in english?”

“I sure am.”

You nod at him skeptically, “I was asking if you were sure you wanted all black, that’s a lot of caffeine.”

He raises an eyebrow at you, his voice muffled under his scarf, “Are you questioning my refined tastes?”

“Uh- no sir. That is not my intention. But, don’t say that I didn’t warn you.”

The boy pulls out his credit card as he darts his eyes around the cafe. Like he insists, you serve him his tiny cup of all black espresso, you even grimace at the heavy scent despite working with coffee for so long. He wasn’t kidding, he had gulped it down like it was nothing- your eyes widening at the sight. He smiled, his scarf still wrapped around his face. “I’d like another please.”

You eye him incredulously, “More? really?”

“Yes, that’s what I said miss..”

“Y/n. It’s y/n.”

“Your establishment is quite the place. You’ll be seeing me here often.”

Trying your best to smile at him, “I look forward to it.” You walk back to the counter, packing sweets for the next customer as you watch the boy gaze out the window. Even his posture seemed so formulaic due to the way he crossed in legs in a prim-proper way, dainty fingers stirring his half-full espresso shot. When you get around to the boy’s third espresso, your surge of confidence makes you lean down at him, “You asked my name, isn’t it right that I know yours?”

He slides his shades down slightly, his eyes a dark brown, “Oh, don’t worry y/n. You’ll be seeing plenty of me that you won’t forget my name.”

He places a large bill on the table, winking at you, “Keep the change, y/n. You deserve it for working so hard.”

He struts out the door, leaving you just as confused as you felt when he first walked in. Who was that? And why was he acting so mysteriously? Throughout the day, you hadn’t thought about him after being so busy taking orders and fulfilling them. 

To your surprise, the same boy came the next day around noon. You could tell by his odd disguise that contrasted with his crisp, white suit- his voice in a lower octave than yesterday. He whispered, “I’d like another espresso and a croissant please.”

You typed up his total on the register, two girls whispering behind him in line. He sat at one of the tables before one of the girls could tap on his shoulder, her expression falling when he walked away. When you set down his cup, you eye him carefully, “If you want more espressos, you’ll have to tell me what’s going on.”

He rests his chin on his hand before yanking his scarf down, “In what obligation do I have to do that? Isn’t it called customer confidentiality?”

“Not if you’re causing a disturbance. You look so suspicious right now!”

A scowl is scribbled on the boy’s face, some pink hair sticking out of his dark bucket hat, “Do you have anywhere private?”

“Follow me.” You lead him to your back stock room, his proximity too close for comfort. His eyes dart from the front of the store and back to you, his hand ripping off his mysterious ensemble. The boy finally reveals his face, a beautiful one at that. The locks that sit at the top of his head curl on his forehead are a shade of bubblegum pink, his lashes accent his eyes attractively, and his cheekbones accentuate his boyish charm. The boy smiles at you, his teeth shining through his pink lips, “You can’t tell anyone that I’m me.”

You stare back at him, “Who exactly are you?”

The boy dramatically runs a hand through his pink hair, “You don’t know who I am?”

“Should I?”

He sighs, “I’m Jaemin Na.”

You don’t catch on. Instead, you look down into space, catching a sight of Claudette’s magazine pile- a picture of a pink-haired boy on the front cover.

“Wait a minute-”

You grab the magazine hastily, holding it up next to the boy’s face, “Y-you’re Jaemin Na?”

He smiles brightly at you, “The one and only.” You rub your fingers against your chin, “Wait, what do you do exactly?”

Jaemin sighs at you, resting a hand on the wall near your head, “Listen sweetie, I’m the son of the Na family- consuls to the royal family of Versailles. I stay in the palace.”

“Ohh- so you’re a rich elitist boy?”

“Well- I guess you could put it that way.”

You scan him up and down curiously, “Well that explains the lame disguise. I’m sure girls would try to maul you. If it’s so much work, why don’t you just have one of the palace people make you coffee? Why bother coming here?”

Jaemin scrunches his nose, “Well I don’t appreciate the insult and I also hate to admit that no one makes coffee like you do- that’s why I started sneaking out and coming here. Don’t take too much credit though.”

Rolling your eyes at him, you smirk, “For someone who sits on their butt in the palace all day, you sure drink a lot of coffee, you should see a doctor.”

Jaemin smoothes down the fabric of his white vest jacket before covering his face with the scarf again, “My taste buds and stomach lining are perfectly fine, thank you very much.”

Shoving his bucket hat over his eyes, he storms out of the shoppe- leaving you with an amused grin on your face. The next day, Jaemin came once again. You asked him, “one espresso shot coming right up.”

Your fingers nimbly move on the register’s keyboard, a hand flying across it without any thought. You bring Jaemin his espresso cup, setting it down on a dainty white saucer in front of him, “Here’s your black coffee of death. Enjoy.”

You swivel back around, only to be stopped by the sound of Jaemin’s voice, “Hold it. Not so fast.”

“What is it now?”

“I never said I wanted an espresso- it’s a lavender latte kind of day.”

You step closer to him, your eyes widened like disks, “But you didn’t stop me at the counter? You always get an espresso- all black?”

“Not today. Plus, you only assumed and never thought to ask.”

You resist the urge to slap Jaemin square in the face, he was acting like a spoiled, conceited child. You eye him sternly, “Are you going to waste that?”

Jaemin bats his eyelashes at you, swinging the fabric of his scarf over his shoulder, “Well I certainly am not going to have an espresso today. I take that as a yes?”

You feel your eyes roll back into your head, you’re surprised they don’t turn inside out. Grumbling, you march away with the espresso in your hand- dumping it into the sink drain as Jaemin smiles an amused grin. You come back to him, a menu in hand, “What do you want and make the choice good because I won’t do this.”

Jaemin raises his eyebrow at you, “Isn’t that your job? Customer knows what’s best?”

Scoffing, you smash your fist on the table, “Don’t do this Jaemin or you’ll regret it.”

The pink haired boy narrows his eyes at you through his pretentious sunglasses, “I’d like a lavender latte- make it oat milk. I don’t digest dairy well.” Heading back to the counter, you whip up the drink, layering a mint-berry compote and oat milk as you strategically place a lavender stem at the top of it. You stand back to admire the perfection of the drink, the purple gradient blends into a cloud of white. When you place it onto the table in front of Jaemin, he takes a sip of the drink as you wait for his reaction. He uses his index finger to motion you closer to him, your feet moving on their own. 

“Well, how is it?”

A bright smile lights up his face, his white teeth gleaming between his lips, “It’s good but you need to come closer.”

You do as he says, his eyes flickering to your lips- you feel his breath on your face. Is he about to kiss you right now? He darts his eyes from your lips to your eyes. The fast-pace of your heartbeat skyrockets before it ends suddenly, Jaemin smacking his lips before whispering at you, “The oat milk could be a little less nutty.”

You break the tension, launching back from you, “Are you kidding me right now?”

Jaemin gives you a cheshire cat-like grin, “Yes but not to fear, I’ll still drink this since you worked so very hard on it.”

You raise your cloth rag at him, stopping your hand just before the crown of his head- your brows creased with distress. Before this, you had never dealt with such a difficult customer before. Your voice is laced with irritation, “Do you enjoy this?”

“Oh, so very much. I hope you don’t miss me, I’ll be back at the same time tomorrow.”

Grabbing his book sack, Jaemin heads out the door, leaving you alone to be irritated. Like he promises, Jaemin is back the next day. The whole evening after yesterday, you spent taking note of every trap Jaemin would set for you- there was no way he was going to get you this time. When he steps up to the register, you try to sound as polite as possible. 

“Welcome to Claudette’s. What would you like to order?”

He nods at you, clicking his tongue at the same time, “Let’s go with the caramel frappuccino, no whipped cream or foam please.”

After he pays, you skillfully make the drink right in front of him, carefully measuring the correct proportions of every ingredient. He places his fingers on his chin, one hand on his hip in a taunting manner, “This is so fascinating to watch y/n. You’re truly the master of beverage arts.” You scoff, pushing the finished drink to him, “Try that.”

When he takes a sip, his eyes sparkle with pleasure as he visibly shudders, “Well, I am pleased to say that you have passed the frappuccino test except for one thing.”

“What now?”

“The straw is upside down.”

You groan, slapping a palm to your forehead, “You’ve got to be kidding me Jaemin.”

Before Jaemin can answer you, you hear a familiar voice from the back of the stock room and you feel a hand sit on your shoulder, “Are you satisfied with miss y/n’s services sir?”

You whip around to be met with Claudette towering above you, her lips graced with a fond smile. Jaemin clears his throat before answering her, “She’s doing great but she’s having so trouble accepting constructive criticism.”

You stare back at him, gritting your teeth, “What are you talking about? I just-”

Claudette pats you on the head, “Maintenant, maintenant petit pan, what do I say?”

Respectfully, you repeat after her, “Customer always knows best.”

Jaemin adds, “I was just telling her that the straw was upside down just so that she doesn’t do this to other customers.”

“Oui Monsieur! Learn from the customer, y/n, it’ll make you a better worker and person.”

Jaemin lets out a hearty laugh from over the rim of his maroon scarf, “Other than that, she’s great.”

Glaring at him, you look up to Claudette who’s smiling at him, “I see that you come almost every day monsieur, thank you for enjoying my shoppe. Merci beaucoup!”

He smiles back at her, “It’s because of y/n.”

You feel your breath hitch at your throat when you hear Jaemin’s words, how can he say things so casually? You want to believe he’s saying these things to get under your skin again, you can’t seem to predict the pattern of his ways.

Claudette practically jumps out of her skin, her hands clapping wildly, “l'amour est dans l'air! Y/n, you need a break right now- let this nice man take you out for some air.”

Waving your hands in front of you, you shake your head at your boss, “Claudette, please. I need to look after the shop in case of more customers and I-”

The older woman cuts you off, “Nonsense! You’ve been working too hard since I’ve been out! You’re done for today! Out!”

Claudette holds out her hand to you to hand over your apron, an amused smile on her face. After you hand it to her, you gather your belongings from the stockroom before breezing past Jaemin out the door. You turn back to Claudette for affirmation, she’s always trying to shoo you out when she thinks you’ve worked for so long. You don’t mind her motherly aura. It makes you miss your own mother. You begin walking down the street towards your apartment, your bag slung over your shoulder. 

“Wait up! y/n!”

You turn around to be met with a huffing Jaemin, “Where are you going?”

Sighing, you say, “What does it look like? Home obviously?”

Jaemin holds up a finger so he can catch his breath, were you walking that fast? He says, “Why don't you spend the day with me?”

“Yeah, after you embarrassed me in front of my boss? No way, I’ll pass.”

Turning around, you continue to walk until Jaemin runs in front of you, holding his hands as if he’s going to entrap you if you try to make a run for it, “Please, let me make it up to you.”

You eye Jaemin skeptically, “Why? What would you get out of that?”

“Can you just trust me?”

Scoffing, you try to get more steps in until you’re halted by Jaemin once again, “I promise, if you spend the day with me, I won’t bother you about coffee or upside down straws again!”

You gaze at him, your eyes searching for some malicious sign. When you don’t find any, a smile creeps on to your face, “You better stick to your word Jaemin Na or else!”

The first several minutes of walking next to each other make you cringe from the awkwardness. You steal a glance at Jaemin who’s messing with the rim of his bucket hat, the accessory covering his eyes, “So, where are we going?”

He answers you plainly, “Have you been around the city?”

You rub the back of your neck, “I’ll have to admit, I haven’t been around much.”

He stuffs his scarf into his book bag, the sun too hot for the thick fabric, “No worries, I have a plan. Prepared to be amazed out of your mind.”

You let Jaemin guide you to the plaza of the Louvre, the glass pyramid reflecting the sunlight into a million rainbows. People stand in front of the water structure that it sits on, the water is like a pristine mirror that catches even the most subtle details. You had seen the Louvre in travel books and magazines but never in person, “Are we going to the Louvre?!”

“Nope, that can be for another day. I have something even better.”

Jaemin walks over to a man who stands by a red cart, they converse in basic french before the man hands Jaemin two wristbands. He puts his on, motioning for you to do the same. A big red tourist bus pulls over by the front of the Louvre, “All aboard the passengers! tous à bord du bus!”

Without a second thought, Jaemin takes you by the hand before hosting you onto the bus as you both dash up to the second story of the double-decker. You take a seat at the very front, Jaemin’s shoulder touching yours. You try to wave away the tingle you feel when he brushes against you, his cologne smells of fresh pine needles and mint. A skinny teenager dressed in a striped shirt wears a beret at the top of his head smiles at you, extending a fake rose to you. Hesitantly, you take it while smiling back at him. 

“Bienvenue à bord! My name is Pierre and I will be your guide to your journey across the city of love, city of the la romance! Let’s begin!”

Within a few hours, you had already seen so much. You felt like you were on cloud 9 when you stood up on your seat as you passed under the Arc de Triomphe, Jaemin resting his hands on your waist to keep you stable. You don’t resist him. He watches you with adoring eyes, “Look like someone’s having too much fun!”

You look down at him, “How can you not?!”

The bus speeds over the Pont Neuf, the oldest bridge in Paris that crosses over the Seine, Jaemin pointing out the ducks that float on the banks of it. You laugh as Jaemin takes your rose, putting it in between his lips in order to make you giggle in which you do because he grimaces as a thorn pokes his lip. You swerve with the bus as the driver maneuvers it through Place de la Concorde, the spot where the French Revolution took place. When Pierre told you fun facts about Marie Antoinette, Jaemin would scream at the top of his lungs, his voice getting lost in a blast of wind, “Let them eat cake!!”

When the bus halts at the final stop, you descend down the stairs and off the vehicle- the cool weather sending a chill down your spine. You and Jaemin walk over to the Notre Dame and the Saint Chappele to keep shelter from the blustering winds, the stained glass windows making your faces glow with shades of blues and greens. You sit on a bench, Jaemin’s body pretty much pressed to your body as you both hold a candle between your fingers within the quiet church. Jaemin turns to you, whispering, “So what do you think of Paris?”

You chuckle at him, “Paris is the city of love right? I think I’m in love with Paris, when do we get married?”

Jaemin stiffens his frame, “We as in you and Paris or as in you and I?”

You hit his arm, “No silly! Paris! I don’t want to get married right now!”

Shaking his head, Jaemin laughs at you, tufts of pink sticking out of his bucket slightly. The hat covers less of his face now, at least you can see his eyes. 

“What do you say, we get something to eat?”

“You’re right, I’m famished. All that exploring has made me ravenous.”

Jaemin wins at you, “I know just the thing.”

It’s about evening now, the sun starts to set with a shade of champagne and violet- the trees glinting a shade of vermillion green when you pass the numerous cafes and boutiques on the street. You both find yourself in a field under the Eiffel Tower, the structure staring down at you with regality. You feel as if the air in your lungs has been sucked out, blue lights blink along the lattice pattern of the tower- creating a luminescent effect on your vision. Jaemin nudges you with his elbow, “Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

You don’t even realize he had been gone since you couldn’t stop staring at the beautiful sight in front of you, your head fuzzy from how the gold and blue cut the painted sky. When Jaemin comes back, he sets down a blanket away from the other people- most of them couples- you avert your eyes from them. In his right hand, he holds a basket full of unknown goodies waiting to be eaten. You and Jaemin sit on the blanket before Jaemin reaches into the basket to pull out a multitude of things. He hands you a long baguette of bread before spreading out various shiny fruits, cheeses, and a bottle of blush cider. 

“Did you really prepare this all right now?”

Jaemin smiles at you, his eyes softened, “I have my ways.”

For the next hour or so, you feel as if you don’t need any alcohol to feel drunk. You and Jaemin watch the dusk fade into a black sky, stars glimmering over the golden glow that surrounds you. You both nibble on pieces of havarti cheese or opt for a slice of bread as you talk to each other in hushed whispers. You had never done this with anyone before, it felt so easy, so light. You learn about Jaemin’s life as the son of the consuls and how exhausted he is to be expected of perfection every second of his life, how he’s had his freedom stripped from him since he was born. In turn, he listens to you when you talk about your life back home, how your parents almost cut off ties with you- thinking you were foolish to want to randomly move to Paris by yourself. You never regretted your decision after all. You say, “If I hadn’t moved here, I wouldn’t have met you.”

Jaemin laughs, downing his glass of rose blush cider, “This is the first day that I have felt like myself in front of anyone- just me, not perfect Jaemin Na in front of the cameras.”

You nod at him, scarily aware of how close your fingers are to Jaemin’s on the plaid blanket, “Do you have a favorite part about Paris?”

He turns to you, his cheeks and bridges of his nose illuminated by soft golden light, “After living here all my life, I hate to admit that it’s gotten a bit boring. Now, I think that’s changed.”

You quirk an eyebrow up at him, moving your hand away as heat travels up to your cheeks, “And what has changed?”

You see Jaemin laugh to himself, “You’re unlike any girl I’ve ever met. You don’t fall at my feet like the other elitists in my family- you’re not afraid to call me out and criticize me. I like that.”

You nervously laugh, “Thank you? I’m not sure what to say.”

Jaemin’s expression turns serious, his lips looking more prominent when he turns his face to you, “Then you don't have to say anything.”

Before you can register, Jaemin leans into you as his nose bumps against yours in a soft kiss. You pull away, boring your eyes into his before he scans your eyes for some sign of refusal. When he can’t find any, he molds his hand to your cheek, folding his lips over your bottom lip. Jaemin speeds up the pace by pressing into you further, a sound escaping your throat. You blush at the noise, Jaemin leaning his forehead into yours before sweeping a hair behind your ear, “Wow.”

Your bodies feel like they sing with electricity, Jaemin’s fingers hot on your skin as he pulls you into the space of his chest. Your ear is pressed to his heartbeat, “Do you hear that y/n?”

You shut your eyes at the quiet rhythm, “I hear it.”

You take it open yourself to edge your fingers on the rim of Jaemin’s hat, slowly taking it off him to reveal the pink shade of his locks- the soft tufts messy from the day. He watches you take off his sunglasses too, placing a hand on his neck while pulling him in for a fiery kiss. His eyelashes extend from his eyelids, framing his dark irises that reflect the Eiffel like swirling stars. He whispers to you, “Are you ready to get out of here?”

You nod at him, standing to help him fold off the blanket and carry the basket. The whole way back, you and Jaemin dance along the walkway of the Seine- to the beat of your hearts, to the beat of the acoustic guitar that echoes from a late-night cafe. Ending right back at your apartment, you don’t want Jaemin to leave just yet. He holds your hands like you’re a fragile porcelain, the warmth of him gentle and soothing. He leans his head against yours, pressing a kiss to the spot in between your eyebrows, “Can I ask you something?”

“What is it Jaemin?”

“This is only if you want to, don’t feel pressured. My parents are holding a masquerade ball at the palace tomorrow night. Do you want to be my date?”

You stare at him, a hand resting on his shoulder, “Oh, Jaemin, I’d love to go with you, there’s just one problem. I didn’t pack a ball gown when I moved.”

Jaemin’s expression is shocked as if he never expected you to say yes, “Really, you’ll come?”

“I’d be happy to.”

“Don’t worry about the dress, I’ll take care of it.”

For a final time, Jaemin presses a firm kiss to your lips, “I’ll see you tomorrow night y/n.”

“Goodnight, Jaemin. Today was perfect.”

“I’m glad. Now, go in first. I won’t leave until you do.”

“Are you sure you’ll be okay on your own?”

“Positive, goodnight y/n.”

In the morning, you wake up the sound of your doorbell ringing. Sleepily, you saunter over to your door, finding a neatly wrapped package on your welcome mat. Unfurling the paper, you hold the delicate satin of a scarlet red dress between your fingers, the softness making you sigh. It’s got billowing belle sleeves that are cuffed with pearls at the wrists, the train of it falls on your hardwood floors. You find a note at the bottom of it, “For the most precious girl, who’s beautiful even without this dress. -Jaemin”

You lay the dress agross your bed, the scarlet organza blending into a shade of fuschia as white sparkles cover the bodice. In awe, you can’t take your eyes off the dress- one thing was for sure, Jaemin had impeccable taste. You had gone to work with a pep in your step- you debriefed Claudette of all the details of seeing the city with Jaemin and how his eyes held every form of adoration. Neither of you had fallen so hard so fast before. You were tingling at the thought of it. Thankfully, Claudette let you off early so you could get ready for the ball, your head filled with the thought of dancing with Jaemin in a fancy ballroom. 

Nighttime approached quickly, a jet black limousine had pulled up to the front of your apartment- Jaemin’s voice crackled through your phone speaker when you answered.

“I’m here y/n!”

“Be right down!”

You descended the stairs, your train dragging slightly despite holding it off the ground the best you could. When you came outside, Jaemin’s eyes met yours, his mouth agape from seeing the sight of you, “How is it so possible that someone can be so beautiful?”

Laughing at him, you hug his waist, “You need to stop with all these cheesy compliments, that’s what a boyfriend would say.”

Jaemin smiles into the hollow of your ear, pressing his lips at the shell, “I can make that happen.”

Suddenly, Jaemin pulls out a clear box. It holds a gold band, a white rose attached onto it. You let Jaemin slip it on your wrist before letting him whisk you away into the car. The whole car ride was full of hushed whispers, lips sealing stolen kisses, and bodies pressed together. Out of your time living in Paris, you have never experienced anything like what you felt with Jaemin.

 Upon arriving at the Palace of Versailles, it was definitely a castle straight out of a fairytale. Fountains line the garden courtyards as different colored lights shine on the cars that line up in front of the palace, guests piling out of them. A velveteen red carpet was rolled out down the stairs of the entryway, giving off a glamorous effect. Extending his hand, Jaemin held out his arm for you to grab- both of you entering the palace. Over the top couldn’t hold a candle to the real description of how the atmosphere looked. Caterers dished out trays of hand towels and small crackers topped with caviar, desserts dusted with glitter in the shape of the Eiffel Tower. You whisper to Jaemin, “Is your life always like this?”

He chuckles, “Mostly. It gets boring all the time though.”

In the center of the main ballroom is a live band, musicians playing their cellos and their violins in sync with the music as guests dance in a flurry around the floor. You felt your heart sink. You were never taught to properly dance because there wasn’t a reason to learn back home. Jaemin feels you stiffen, “Y/n? Are you okay?”

Nodding slowly, you say, “I don’t know how to dance-”

“Relax, just follow my lead.”

Without a moment to breathe, Jaemin already placed his hand on your waist before guiding you hands to his shoulders. Like walking on air, you glide with Jaemin despite tripping over your feet for the first half of the song- you rest your chin on his shoulder, swaying. You two don’t say anything for a bit, Jaemin’s grip on your body feels secure.You’re interrupted when an older woman who resembles Jaemin taps him on the shoulder, “Honey?”

You feel Jaemin’s arms fall from you, hugging the woman you presume to be his: “Mother?”

“Honey, who’s this?”

Jaemin pulls you to his side, “This is y/n. I’ve been showing her around Paris.”

The woman smiles at you, her hand tucking back a strand that’s fallen from her black braid, “Please to meet you, has my son been treating you well?”

You take her hand firmly, nodding, “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Na. Jaemin’s been wonderful to me, he’s been showing me around and telling me good things about-”

“Yes, that sounds great. Jaemin, I need you to come with me- there’s someone your father wants you to meet.”

“Can’t it wait until next week mother?”

Her eyes sharpen coldly, the warmth slipping out of her smile, “Do not disobey your father, come now.”

You hear Jaemin groan before he turns to you as he’s being dragged away, “I’ll be back. Do not move. I mean it- don’t.”

You nod at him confusedly, “Don’t worry, I’ll be here.”

You opt to take a seat by the tables where guests pile their plates up with various foods, your eyes watching Jaemin’s mother introduce him to a girl that’s a lot shorter than him, her eyelashes batting at Jaemin. They shake hands as Jaemin’s father and the girl’s father laugh, cheering their flutes of champagne as they converse. Immediately, you feel yourself rise from your seat when the girl launches herself into Jaemin’s arms, his face is riddled with surprise. She smiles up at him, whispering something inaudible as Jaemin’s mother teases them to kiss- Jaemin sternly staring at his mother. Getting up from your chair, you turn back into the nearest hallway, your black slumped against the wall. How could you have been so naive? Did you honestly think that Jaemin could sweep you off your feet like some cheesy romcom and then you’d fall in love with Paris’s it boy? It seemed inconceivable. Around the corner, you hear Jaemin’s voice- you start to run towards where you hear him- only to be met with the sight of the same girl pressing Jaemin up against the wall. Her voice sounds like a slither, “Little birdies are telling me you’ve been running around with some peasant girl that works at some dusty cafe. Didn’t you say you loved me?”

You continue to listen in on them. Jaemin holds her at an arms distance, “That was when I was 4 and didn’t know what the word meant. I don’t see you that way. Aleah, I don’t like you that way.”

She laughs into Jaemin’s shoulders, “Your mother has always adored my family- we’re destined from the start. Don’t turn me away, Jaemin.”

Jaemin shakes his head, “Y/n, isn’t some peasant girl. Just because she’s not like you and your family doesn’t make her a peasant.”

Aleah combs her fingers through Jaemin’s hair, “Sweet little Jaemin, that girl could never give you what I could. She’ll only bring you down. Face it, we’re to be betrothed soon- in the palace, side by side.”

When you don’t hear Jaemin protest or even say a word of refusal, you take off running. You don’t care that the ends of your dress are frayed now, your heels causing blisters on your feet. What felt like a dream has now transformed into a nightmare. You burst through the doorway of the palace, guests shooting you dirty glances when you tell the limousine driver to take you home. As the car dashes out of the courtyard, you hear Jaemin call your name on the steps while tears fall from your eyes. Paris has never looked so melancholy. When you arrive at the doorstep of your apartment, you glare up at the moon- the same moon that Jaemin had kissed you multiple times under. You sit on your stairway, crying into the lap of your dress as your hands fist the layers of fabric tightly. With a screech on the pavement, Jaemin flings himself out of another car- slamming the door behind him. You look at him, shaking your head, “I don’t want to see you. I don’t want-”

He doesn’t listen to your words when he wraps his strong arms around your sunken frame, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

You collapse into the crook of his chest, your tears staining his dress shirt. Jaemin tilts your chin to him, “I’m not going to marry Aleah, I hope you know that.”

“What about your mother? She said-”

“I don’t care what she or my father says. I can’t marry someone I don’t like- I don’t love. Not for money, not for status. I won’t.”

“Jaemin, you can’t. You can’t sever from your family because of me-”

He raises his eyebrows, “Who says I’m doing it for you? I’m doing it for myself. I know what my heart says, I know that it chooses you. I’m not doing it for you.”

He takes your hand in his, pressing a kiss to your knuckle, “I’m going to do it for us.”

When you try to say something else, Jaemin shut you up with a passionate kiss before eyeing you closely, “Let’s go rest for tonight.”

Letting  it go, you nod at him. Jaemin picks you up, your dress covering his body as he unlocks your door for you before setting you on the comforter of your bed- your room lights are off, the scent of Paris air drifting in from your open window. The darkness invokes the calmness, you start to kick off the heels that are strapped to your feet. Jaemin sits on your bed next to you, “I’ve never seen your room before.”

His dark eyes scan the wilting peonies that sit on your desk and the ivory walls that surround you both. “Your room suits you.”

You let yourself collapse onto the bed, your head hitting the cool fabric of your blanket, “It took me a while to settle into it.” 

Beside you, Jaemin lays down to watch you, his elbow propped up, “I should probably go soon.”

“Do you want to stay?”

“Can I?”

You chuckle, “That depends if you want to. Your mom’s probably wondering why you’re with a peasant girl.”

Jaemin clears his throat, “Did you overhear Aleah?”

You don’t answer. Instead, you want to spit out a string of insults about the rich, how they judge people based on money. For Jaemin’s sake, you don't. He parts his lips, “You know that’s not how I see you right?”

Nodding, you whisper, “If you did, I don’t think you’d be next to me right now.”

Immediately, you feel Jaemin hover over you, “I don’t want anyone else but you.”

Your bodies burn like flames as you kiss each other hotly, Jaemin’s tongue gliding over yours. You grip his hair, slightly tugging on it so that he lets out a sound- your legs entangled with each other on the bed. Panting, Jaemin tosses his black suit jacket to the ground- you practically yank of his tie. Jaemin drags his lips down to the juncture of your neck, causing him to smirk when you gasp. You bore your eyes into his, “I need you to help me.”

Jaemin seems to understand when he reaches behind your neck to pull the zipper of your dress now, your chest exposed in front of him. In the dark, his eyes glimmer with adoration- his lips connecting with your own. Using your hands, you take his dress shirt off him to reveal his muscular body, his skin glowing under the soft moonlight. You smell the heaviness of Jaemin’s strong cologne, the scent makes you dizzy. By the end of it, your dress lays on the ground by your vanity and Jaemin’s clothes by your wardrobe as you press your cheek to his bare chest, watching him sleep peacefully. Jaemin has his arm on the small of your back, stroking your skin even in his slumber. You take note of how his pink locks are mussed and his eyelashes have a subtle curl from how long they are. Jaemin flicks one eye open, “Y/n? How come you’re not asleep yet?”

You snuggle deeper into him, “It’s because you’re next to me.”

“You’re right- I’m just that good- hey!”

You slap Jaemin’s chest, a blush creeping onto your cheeks, “That’s not why stupid!”

“Then what’s the reason?”

Without any hesitation, you tell him, “I like you and I want to be with you.”

“You’re a tad late y/n. I knew that already.”

“How? I’ve never told you that.”

“I can just feel it. You and I- we have this connection that I’ve never felt with anyone else. The only reason I come to that bakery isn’t only for the espressos. I want to protect you from harm’s way- even if that includes my own family. I just want to be there for you like no other guy can.”

Smiling to yourself, you reach up to pat Jaemin on the head only to have Jaemin’s hand catch yours, you whisper to him, “It’s only been a little while since we met?”

He sinks to your level, meeting your gaze before pressing a kiss to your eyelid, “That’s the beauty of liking someone. Time doesn’t stop for anyone. I just knew when I saw you.”

Giving Jaemin’s hand a firm squeeze, you press the curl of your lips to his knuckles. It makes him chuckle, his smile upturning on his cheeks. Once again, you shift closer to him. You both succumb to sleep, the low occasional honking of beetle cars and soft music from your neighbor’s window as your own Parisian lullaby- Jaemin wrapped in your embrace. 

[delicatebluebirdruins]

The Hunger Games: Mockingjay

The Hunger Games; Catching Fire

Part One

- “I try to work out what is true and what is false”

- “I’m still not entirely convinced that I was hallucinating... the floor turning into a carpet of writhing snakes”.... nope

-- So many good quotes in this first chapter alone

- “Some walks you have to take alone”

-- I wonder who were the other Capitol rebels

-- Kat’s reaction to seeing Peeta on the screen breaks my heart

-- Poor Peeta

-- I love the imagery when Katniss says she’s going to be the Mockingjay, with her arms slightly raised as if she had wings

- Kat about the pearl holding it to her lips “It’s soothing a cool kiss from the giver himself” --- “a token it will make until I come home to you”

-- I love Katniss and Prim talking together

- Coin: want to present Gale as your new lover? Me: oi shut it

-- I always love Cinna’s sketchbook

-- I love the prep team’s interactions with Katniss... what happened to them after the series ended

- the prep team where punished because Octavia took a slice of bread

- Mrs Everdeen reading the pain on a person’s body

- I want a story about Greasy Sae

- Precious Posy... I want a story about Gale and his family like what happened to them all

- I am mad that the hummingbird room was cut in the film

- I love the bow Beetee designed for Katniss (I wonder what happened to it)

- Finnicks line being give to Effie kind of annoys me

- aww Katniss

- I love this scene for so many reasons but especially when the berries are mentioned and how they affected the different people

- I love Finnick so much

-- a big regret of mine was not being able to ask a teacher about why they were so shocked that Rue was cast as black... I was fifteen at the time  It doesn’t excuse me being quiet

But I was also a coward. I wasn’t even able to tell a teacher about the time a girl dry humped my head, I dropped something on the floor because she and her friends kept staring at me and laughing and I couldn’t look at them any longer so I had to duck down and when I did she got up and came over and I froze and well she grabbed my head and shoved her crotch onto the crown of my head whilst her friends laughed and the rest of class and teachers didn’t notice I have only told one person this story and that was last year

- Finnick Odair in his underwear

- I love Cressida and I want to know more about her

- I love the hospital scene for so many reasons

- Kat about the bombing: “I assumed, as usual, it was my presence that brought on punishment”

- I always love the fire is catching speech

- I love Katniss so much

- I wish we saw the tribute to the tributes videos

- I love Kat and Finnick having a meal together- though I still don’t understand why he wanted them to hide their knowledge of seeing Peeta

- I love Finnick and Kat “hunting” together

- The Hanging Tree: I never realised it was jabberjays in the “dead man called out to his love” and I hate the pop remix with a passion

- Katniss: “I could remember almost anything set to music after a round or two”

- Katniss speculating about the song is pretty spot on

- I dislike the kitchen kiss so much

- Peeta’s warning :(

Part 2

- I don’t know why but them in the bunker is a favourite scene of mine

- “I almost hiss at him too” it was crime they didn’t have JLaw hissing at Buttercup in the film

- First Peeta hijacking ref: “waging a sort of battle in his mind”

- and more chats with Prim

- and chats with Finnick

- I love Buttercup

- Plutarch x coffee was amusing

- “Glance at Finnick who gives a thumbs up- But he’s looking pretty shaky himself” -- my poor babies

- my poor precious Finnick- I wonder whom among Snow’s friends got poisoned one I am certain he poisoned is Lysistrata

-- I wonder what was going through Gale’s head when he volunteered

- Katniss is so giddy to see Peeta and well you know

- Prim telling of Plutarch is *chefs kiss*

-- Poor Portia and all the other stylists and prep teams

- “I can’t say Gale’s absences have inconvenience me”

-- I love Delly

-- I hate District 2 kiss because of that article written in 2018

-- Wraps Finnick and Annie in blankets and glares at Gale

-- I love Gwendoline Christie in the MJ 2 behind the scenes

-- what could be worse than what Gale said about the workers in the Nut

- I just love Boggs

- District 2 speech is also great and she quoted Peeta!

- the capitol having emergency supplies stockpiled... Me: i bet they have

- Oh Finnick and Annie’s wedding :)... Katniss: “Finnick loves Annie and that’s good enough for me”

- Katniss seeing Peeta makes me sad

- Poor Johanna and of course I love Johanna

- I love Finnick and I want to hear more about the sea turtle which stole his hat... hey is there any fanart of that scene?

- everyone was creeped out by Peeta threatening to steal Annie away from Finnick

- “everything screams in my dreams tonight” this line always chills me

- gulps “your squadron leader gets hit by a mortar” mortal being a type of bomb

- I love the pine needle sachet that Katniss makes Johanna

Part Three

- I dislike Haymitch at times and this lecture of his is one of them

- I love Jackson for coming up with Real or Not Real

- I love Mitchell trying to act

-- Looks at Cressida with huge heart eyes

- the best brotp Finnick x Peeta

- “now this place tastes like the arena”

- I love Messalla’s moment about the centre unit

- Peeta with Pollux

- “Katnisss” Me: shit x3000

- “Snow can’t tolerate looking like a fool”

- everytime Finnick’s ***** gets me and I just love my boy

- “don’t let him take you from me”

- Tigris! is in Ballad fucking fight me on this

- “my face runs into a hanging chain and I pull it”... snorts

- Jagged sutures and smear on cream vs gently rinsing and bandaging

- “I know it happened and yet it doesn’t seem real” *whimpers*

- the guy who was mistaken for Peeta :|

- Tigris and the can of salmon

- all the next events are a lotTM

- and then Prim and the medics died

-- did you know there are people who were angry at Katniss for not showing emotion after Prim died? No well there were and I don’t like them

- Snow: snake eyes again; about Prim: so wasteful

- Haymitch: “more boy trouble” Katniss: “I don’t know why, but this hurts me in a way Haymitch rarely can”-- Thoughts?

- what happened to Effie

- I still Katniss voted yes because she wanted Coin to think she was still on her side

- “Its all over when the Mockingjay sings”... “hour after hour of ballads, love songs and mountain airs”

- I love Greasy Sae

- I really want to know what was going through Peeta’s head when he decided to dig up evening primrose bushes

- “flakes of skin the size of playing cards” owie ouch ow ow nope

Bonus CF: I love Mags just wanting a nap

- poor Madge

- poor Buttercup and Katniss I just love them bonding

- growing back together is something I love... does anyone have good fic recs for growing back together?

- I love the description for toast babies so much

-- “I make a list of every act of goodness I’ve seen someone do” I remember I had a very bad day and I was reading this scene and was looking at this blank notebook I had and thought why not and just have this small notebook with a few different stories of kindness in it and things I drew a picture of the blue mockingjay on it and a dandelion

- “Much worse games to play” It took me awhile to understand what this meant and I understand now

. 

.

It was kind of a ride rereading this series again especially after Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes and you know what I still love this series and these characters

I don’t see Lucy Gray turning into Coin but I do see them as being related

[doublel27]

All I Want for Christmas Is Mariah - T

So, I was driving to work this morning and heard about this Mariah Carey Christmas interview, and I had to write a bit of a shitpost fanfiction about David pestering Patrick for the Mariah Christmas of his dreams.   Read it on AO3

Wednesday mornings were one of the days Patrick liked to hole up in the back room and look over spreadsheets of sales and make notes for them to have sales report meetings and restocking lists made and deciding what to put on sale. David had managed to make it in only fifteen minutes after opening so Patrick could focus while David put out holiday product and helped customers. He had been heavily distracted by his Mariah notifications going off and the new interview she had done with Cosmopolitan UK was running through his brain. After he rang up the last guest in the store and the bell jangled, signaling an empty building, David hustled back to inform Patrick of the plan he was forming.

David leaned in the doorway of the back room to watch Patrick idly flip his pen while looking over the columns of numbers. Patrick’s navy button down was rolled to just above his elbows and very attractive forearms. David refused to let himself get distracted though. “What if...mmm...what if we took a little trip this Christmas? Like, to Aspen.”

“What?”

Patrick caught the pen neatly but otherwise stilled. David figured he was looking for more information.

“Yeah, like a long-weekend jaunt.” David’s hands began moving along with his explanation. “Enjoy the sights, do some outdoorsy stuff, if that’s your thing.”

“Hon, we’re planning our wedding and deposits are due to several vendors and we have currently stocked the with brand new, rather expensive, Christmas merchandise.” Patrick turned his head back to look at David. “Why would we go to Aspen?”

“Well, Mariah may have done an interview with Cosmo UK which is essentially a guide to having a Very Mariah Christmas Experience.”

Patrick’s eyes went soft around the edges and he managed a smile despite being interrupted when he usually made David promise not to bother him. “David, you may be my Mariah Carey, but you are not actually Mariah Carey.”

“So, Aspen...” David tried again.

“No.” Patrick turned back to his computer screen. He quietly added, “Unless we don’t need to spend eight grand on catering for a sixty five person wedding.”

“Okay,” David began, not wanting to rehash that detail. “Half of the guest list is your family and then there’s at least ten people in this town who I cannot name that somehow made it on the list. And that price includes very correct linens and settings.”

Patrick did not say anything but looked at the spreadsheet that he had once explained was about the bigger spreadsheet and took notes. David felt his lips purse at Patrick’s back.

“So, definitely no Aspen?”

“No, David.”

David decided that it really meant not this year and tucked it away for later. Thankfully, Aspen was just one part of the greater Mariah Carey Christmas plan.

“Well,” David said, glancing down at his phone to an easier item on the list, “How about we do some last minute Christmas shopping on the 23rd and 24th.”

David paused for dramatic effect and Patrick’s hand just came up to pinch the bridge of his nose. Clearly, Patrick did not have the vision of them bundled up in cute outerwear with spiked hot chocolate or cider, making their way through a quaint shopping center. David might have to paint it for him.

Patrick didn’t bother to turn around for this one. David watched as his very capable fiancé continued to prepare for their meeting tomorrow. Still, he was listening as he wrote notes. “David, as our store is hoping to capitalize on those very last minute shoppers, Rose Apothecary is going to need the owner and creative director in house. Also, considering we are shipping gifts to my parents and to the Galapagos for your sister, we are going to need to do some early shopping.“

“Well, we can at least do three Christmas trees,” David threw out.

Patrick didn’t even look at him as he commented, “You barely spend enough time at the motel to justify having one there.”

“I meant three in the apartment.”

This time the pen clattered and Patrick spun fully around in his chair. Flustered Patrick was a rarity and David found himself pulling his face backwards as emotions flowed. “What? Where?”

“One in the bedroom, one in the living room and then a small, Charlie Brown tree, also in the living room, because we do not have a rec room.”

“Well, considering the bedroom and the living room are the same room—“

“A problem I definitely pointed out when we toured it with Ray,” David reminded him.

“The point is, we only need the one Charlie Brown tree at the apartment, because that’s what fits. You can have your big one here in the store.”

David sniffed, “Mariah puts three in her Aspen house. They say two trees in the article, but when you read the interview she very clearly stated three distinct trees.” David was actually very insulted on Mariah’s behalf that the writer had misrepresented her words.

“Well, as we are not in Aspen, you can have Schitt’s Creek level trees instead of Aspen level trees.”

“Patrick!” David whined, as his head fell backwards.

“David, we are not getting smothered by trees in our own home. We have to actually live there.”

Patrick stood, wiping his hands on the new dark wash Levi’s that actually worked. “Give me the list.”

David was tempted to not give Patrick the list, considering how his Christmas plan had gone so far. However, Patrick had that serious look on his face with the little crinkle showing up on his forehead. David almost felt a little bad interrupting the morning routine with Mariah and in that spirit passed his phone with the open article over to Patrick.

David waited, nerves jangling slightly, because now, standing in the back of the store with Patrick reading the list, everything started to feel rather frivolous. Patrick however was regarding the list carefully.

“I really like number one.” Patrick glanced up and gave David a smile that bordered on teasing, “But as we are spending Christmas with your parents I am going to leave the ‘Zen Zone’ to you and your mom to sort out.”

David felt his face pull into some rather unattractive shapes as Patrick returned to the article, thumbing through the lines. “We discussed two and three. Four,” Patrick paused, his face forming into a smirk. David swallowed, as the smirk had traveled up to dance in Patrick’s eyes. “We don’t have kids to invite a Santa over in the evening but if you have some secret fantasies around Mr. Claus you haven’t mentioned yet, we could work with that.”

David made an utterly hideous sputtering sound and reached for the phone. “Give it-“

“Five is easy. We already open presents Christmas morning. We solved six. A nineteen foot tree, really, with what ceilings. Seven...” Patrick looked up at David and stared without blinking. “I have never seen you cook.”

“You would be the sous chef, in that situation. Obviously.”

“Ah. Noted.”

Patrick didn’t miss a beat. “We can host a game night with Christmas films in the background, so that’s eight. Alexis isn’t here to torture you but we may need to invite Ray to round out the numbers for game night. And nine, you already have a giant Christmas Spotify playlist with Mariah every fifth song, but if you want to keep working on it knock yourself out.”

Patrick handed back the phone and David clutched it to his chest, like the precious thing it was. “I just want to have a Mariah level Christmas.”

“I think we just established you will have as close to a Mariah level Christmas as the budget allows. Also, if you want to dress up in a Santa suit I think we can make it work.” Patrick’s non-eyebrows lifted suggestively.

David felt his own nose wrinkle and flair as his face journeyed through that horrifying image. “Eww, no. I am going to go look at gold lights and angel and butterfly ornaments for the store tree.”

“As long as we can sell them.”

The gasp slipped out of David’s mouth before he could stop it and Patrick chucked at him. David narrowed his eyes at Patrick. David found his voice to be exceptionally prim as he said, “We are not selling my rendition of Mariah Carey’s tree. I will see if anything is reasonable to stock in the store.”

“Sell some of the Christmas lights and ornaments we already have in stock first please,” Patrick called out, returning to his earlier task.

David stuck his tongue out at his fiancé’s back and slipped into the floor of the store, planning to use the front computer for some investigative shopping. The display tree was going to look fucking amazing. David also decided he would make the hot cocoa with butterscotch schnapps happen though. This Christmas he was going to work on making it the Most Mariah Christmas he could.

[everlarkbirthdaygifts]

Happy birthday, neverstopwhileyoureahead

Sorry this is a bit late, @neverstopwhileyoureahead, we hope you had a wonderful birthday yesterday! @booksrockmyface has written this story just for you!

Title: Things I’ll Never Say

Gift for: neverstopwhileyoureahead

Rated: T

Author’s note: Happy birthday! I hope this friends-to-lovers fic brings joy to your special day! (Title comes from the Avril Lavigne song of the same name.) Many tanks to thesaltywinteradult for prereading this and everything that I send her way.

________

I have drawn her a million times. From stick figures when we were kids to more detailed sketches as my abilities grew. But I always hide them where she can’t see. I can’t let her know the truth of my feelings. It would ruin everything.

“Have you heard back from college yet?” Katniss asks, taking a seat beside me.

I quickly flip to a safer sketch of a comic I’ve been toying with. “Not yet. But soon, I hope.” I look up. “You decide yet what’s next?”

“I actually… Well, Mom’s not happy, but I applied to the parks and recreation office.” She bites her lip. “What do you think?”

“I think you’d be great with that.” I say encouragingly, not wanting to talk about how much I’ll miss her.

“It’s just ground level, so I’ll probably be answering phone calls and filing paperwork.” She shrugs. “Better than the grocery store.”

“It would be better if you could come with me.” I say, almost immediately wishing I could climb under the table. “I mean, you could find something there. Or sign up for some classes. And I wouldn’t have to live in a dorm.”

“I can’t. It’s too far away from Prim.”

“Just eight hours.” I argue. “And your mom is doing so much better.”

After a pregnant pause, Katniss smiles at me and my heart soars. “Anyway, you’ll be back for Christmas, right? Helping out with the rush?”

I nod. “The cakes won’t be the same without me. Dad does a good job, but he has to run the place. Graham and Ryan haven’t ever got the hang of it.”

“I’ll make sure to tell everyone to wait for Christmas to order, then.” She let out a little laugh. “Anyway, I better get to class.” She leans over and kisses my cheek. She pauses with her face just an inch from my own. An uncertain smile plays on her lips before she straightens and walks away.

I open the sketch of her again and try to capture that smile she just gave me.

____

I stare at the envelope for several long minutes. This will seal my fate.

Katniss snatches the letter out of my hand. “If you’re not going to open it.”

Annie slips it from her fingers. “I’ll do the honors.”

Finnick grabs it from her. “No, allow me. Our Ivy Leaguer over here—”

Annie rolls her eyes. “We can’t all be geniuses, of course.”

I take the envelope back. “Okay, I’ll open the damn thing myself.” I slip my finger under the flap. I’m shaking so much that it takes a few attempts. I pull the paper out slowly. The words swim in front of me and I can’t make them focus no matter how hard I try.

And then Katniss’s arms around me with a whoop.

“I got in.” I say flatly. I look around at my friends. “I got in.” I return Katniss’s embrace, pressing my eyes into her shoulder.

“I’m going to miss you so much.” She whispers.

“We’ve still got time.” I assure her before the rest of our friends ascend.

­____

The rest of our senior year passes in a blur. Katniss has started to come around more often than before. She’s worked evenings at the local grocery store since was sixteen, but she’s ended up in my bedroom through the window every night after my house is fast asleep. We usually play twenty questions or Kiss, Marry, Kill. But as the days grow fewer, things grow more serious, reminiscing about the past.

It’s the night before I’m set to leave and she sneaks into my window before I see the light shut off in the hall. She lays beside me, wrapping her arms around me with her face pressed into my shoulder. She’s clings to me.

“You’re leaving tomorrow.” She says softly, finally rolling away to stare up at my ceiling. “Your fancy art school eight hours away.”

“Well, there’s this lovely invention called a phone. Have you heard of it?” I’m trying to lighten the mood, but it’s not working for me.

She snorts and shoves my shoulder. “It’s not the same and you know it.”

“You could come with me.” I suggest, not for the first time. “We could rent an apartment together and you could find a job.”

“I have my mom and sister.” Katniss argues. Her voice begs me not to say it again.

“Prim can take care of herself. And so can your mom. You don’t have to be the savior, Katniss.”

“And what am I supposed to do for you?” She asks sharply.

I can’t answer that, so I stay quiet.

She gets up and moves to the window. “I should go.”

I grab her hand. “Don’t leave mad. I was only asking because…”

She turns around. “You leave tomorrow. I’ve already got a full-time job.”

“I know.” I let go of her hand. “I’ll call you when I get settled in.”

Katniss chews her lip a moment before she leans in for a soft brush of her lips against mine. My heart is a freight train in my chest as she pulls away. “You better come back for Christmas. And for the summer, at least a couple weeks.”

I nod. “Promise. And I expect you to come visit when you get two days off in a row.”

“I will.” She smiles and kisses me again. “Be careful out there on the road. If you get in a wreck and end up in the hospital, I’ll come and give you an arrow wound to add to it.”

I laugh. “Okay, hot shot, you better go so I can get some sleep.”

She smiles and glances back toward the bed. “Could I maybe stay?”

I rub the back of my neck nervously. “Sure. Just don’t steal all the covers.”

I climb into the bed and hold out my arms. She slides in with me. Her head comes to rest on my shoulder. She fits perfectly there.

“You should come with me.” I suggest again.

“Maybe if things keep going…” She smiles up at me. “I don’t want to be that girl that picks up everything for a boy. But I do want to spend every day I can with you.”

“We can try to meet halfway.”

“I can come see you on my days off. I’ve been working at the grocery long enough to set a better schedule. And there may be another opening at parks and rec.” She places her hand on my cheek. “We can make it work.”

I swallow against the lump in my throat. “Whatever you want.”

“I want you. I have for a long time.”

“I have too.” I brush a soft kiss against her lips. I want more, but I know I need rest for my drive the next day.

She smiles and snuggles into me with a large yawn.

We’re both asleep a few breaths later.

[xiaoxiongmaos]

those iconic moments are like ICONIC i think i've seen all of them except for the eunsang one. my favourite iconic moments and the first ones that popped into my head are soobin's "bye guys hi ladies muah" and sunghoon's tiktok video that went viral recently. those moments live in my head rent free. i literally cannot get them out of my head.

and, yeah the cgi in monster was very startling and i have a physical reaction every time i see it.

i'm so sorry that she's left and her favourite group disbanded 😕 and i don't take any offence either!! i know i'm not her because this is my first time writing publicly on tumblr, and none of my favourite groups have disbanded so far.

ooo!!! idk if it's because i don't understand giffiing or because the giffing i see on my dash is so high quality, but if there were a tumblr hierarchy i think giffers should be on top, besides graphics creators and artists. they're constantly keeping up with new content, and giffing all of it in HD (sometimes 4k) with good colouring (even when the original doesn't have good colouring) and i'm just like WOW. i know i could never do it and i respect the grind fr. so, i respect you for doing that, making graphics, AND making fanart at the same time. speaking of fanart, i saw your recent felix one and i am BLOWN away. like, how?? knowing that your canvas was once empty and you managed to produce THAT out of it is literally like... my mind is blown.

ooo yes, i'm picky with who i read too. when it comes to a little read here & there, the quality of the writing doesn't matter much to me. but when it comes to reading longer fics, there are only a few writers who can captivate my attention for THAT long, you know? please don't apologise for studying!! i've been busy myself these days (which is why this is SUPER late), so i completely understand.

and tysm!! your reassurances have definitely broken me out of my shell, and i'm more than ready for the reveal soon! thank you SO much for the reccs! i've noted them down so i will definitely listen to them sometime soon.

today's mission was to give me a playlist, but you've already given me a playlist of recs so now all we have to do is wait for monday! sorry for all of this, but i'm super excited for the reveal! - 🗝 anon

Hello anon, hope you’re doing good!

Ah, how could I forget that… it’s really such a cute and funny vid to watch! Sunghoon’s tiktok? I don’t recall seeing any of his recent ones so I’ll check it out!

Ooh yeah the continuous wait for frames to finish rendering; that’s a pain. But it’s overshadowed by the nice tags people leave after reblogging or some sweet asks; really makes it worth it. Thank you so much, that’s legitimately so sweet of you to say <3 it took a while because it was the first time in a while but seeing the positive response makes my heart happy!

I prefer series over drabbles so I usually have to look for writers whose diction I vibe with and I have found three (used to be a bit more but unfortunately, quite a few left) that are such! I also am kinda selective about genres I read, mostly it’s angst/thrillers/crime but a little slice of life or fantasy here and there doesn’t hurt. I generally don’t like really fluffy or romantic ones— I’m the kind of person who wants the plot to be interesting and read more of what’s happening outside of someone’s love life; same with movies and dramas! Oh and I avoid nsfw like the plague. If you would like to check them out: @/maatryoshkaa (her serial killer au is amazing, I kid you not! Really made me fall in love with her kdrama-esque writing and she’s got a cute highschool series going on for the soft crowd), @/yeonjuncore (one of the most eloquent writers ever; pick up any piece from her and you won’t stop until you’ve finished it —and sometimes are left yearning for more— she has nsfw stuff but was kind enough to help me blacklist tags for them! I’d recommend checking out the stuff she wrote for a halloween special last year, it has some real gold hidden in the nooks and crannies) & @/angelictaehyun (I only recent started reading her stuff and was done with almost all of her Taehyun fics in the span of a day. Her wording has a prim and proper feel to it, but it’s also not awkwardly professional? She writes shorter stuff, at least compared to what I’m used to, but most of her works are cute and really keep your emotions engaged).

No problem! Is it okay if I still make a playlist for you? I’m more of a feel-good, summery and sweet songs kinda person generally —but I like a ton of different genres too haha— so that’s kinda the theme of the playlist (I sprinkled in a couple of non-kpop/kdrama tracks too)!

The feeling’s mutual; I’m really excited to meet you off anon too~ hope you have a lovely day and that you’re doing well!