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phoward89 · 3 months

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Banner by me. Dividers by @saradika

Summary: When Coriolanus signs you out of the hospital to bring you to his Corso penthouse, you see a glimpse of his dark side. Will that glimpse make you run away from him or to him?

Pairing: Coriolanus Snow x Reader (Y/N)

Warnings: Coriolanus Snow is his own warning! Possessive!Coriolanus, Obsessive!Coriolanus, DelusionalCoriolanus, Dark!Coriolanus, Soft Dark!Coriolanus?, Head Gamemaker!Coriolanus, Mentions of death, Mentions of planning murder, Mentions of cheating/infidelity (not on reader), Mentions of poison, Large age gap/difference (Coriolanus is 33 while reader is 18), Manipulation, Groping, Slapping, um...trying to think of anything else.

Here's the 2nd part of Forever & Ever, My Darling Rose. I gave the Reader a last name, Halvir, in this just to make some scenarios etc a bit easier to write. But the Readers first name is up to you lovely and wonderful readers to come up with.

Story Masterlist

Chapter 2:

Coriolanus marched towards the nurses’ station with a haughty airs to him. He gave off an entitled, but dangerous aurora that had the nurses shaking in their white nursing hats. He'd threatened to kill every single one of their loved ones (friends, family, pets, estranged family, etc) if something happened to you and the nurses were terrified that he'd make good on that promise. Considering you went out of your mind with a nightmare and cornered yourself into your room, resulting in him being called there to calm you down, the nurses were fearful.

The nurses quickly grabbed their charts and scurried off, excuses that they had to check on patients echoed into the air, as the head gamemaker got closer to the front desk. Patients that are most likely asleep since it was nearly 3 in the morning. Yes, the nurses left their charge nurse behind to deal with the wrath of Coriolanus Snow. The nurse assigned to you was the first to bolt.

“I'm signing Y/N Halvir out since your staff is too incompetent to properly care for a victor.” Coriolanus firminly told the charge nurse as he came to a stop right at the desk she was sitting behind, all by herself since the staff abandoned her to face a fate worse than death alone.

The charge nurse refused to meet Coriolanus’ eye while tentatively informing him, “Head Gamemaker Snow, sir, it's ill advised to sign her out. She hasn't been checked by a doctor and she seems to be dealing with some post traumatic stress.”

Wrong Answer. Coriolanus was outraged that some old nurse had the gall to tell him that he couldn't do what he felt best for his, HIS, darling rose. What did that old hag know? If it wasn't for her calling him, you would've hyperventilated and passed out from sheer fear in the corner of your room.

A private room that he was footing the bill for, by the way.

Well, looks like he'll just have to make the charge nurse’s loved ones disappear for her lack of skills tending to you. He'll also find out who was your assigned nurse, make that useless twit disappear along with her loved ones. Well, the Citadel could always use some more lab rats to conduct mutt experiments on.

“It may be ill advised, but I assure you that I am signing Y/N Halvir out of this hospital and taking her with me, where she'll be properly cared for.” He calmly told the nurse as his cold blue eyes cut her down. Leaning down over the desk, causing him to be face to face with the old nurse, Coriolanus hissed, “Your insubordination has won your son, a doctor, and his family a transfer to District 6. Seems like the hospitals there are in need of more doctors due to the rise in morphling addiction amongst the district citizens. It's such a shame that both of your grandchildren, a boy and a girl, will now be eligible for the Hunger Games as District 6 citizens.”

The charge nurse shook with fear as she pleaded, “Please, Head Gamemaker Snow, don't do that. Please, don't be so harsh.” Quickly, she worked on her computer while adding in, “I'm printing out the discharge paperwork now, just don't send my family away to District 6.”

Coriolanus just stood up straight, his full height of 6’0 towering over the charge nurse as she sat at the desk, typing and clicking away at the computer. He didn't say a word to her, just stared her down with cold, dead, blue eyes.

The charge nurse swallowed down a sick feeling that was welling up while rising from her seat to scurry over to the printer. She silently prayed to the printer, which was growling louder than a feral animal, to hurry up and spit out the paperwork for your discharge.

Coriolanus grew bored waiting for the necessary paperwork for your release. So bored that he was tapping his shiny black shoes against the linoleum floor.

Click, click, click. Click, click, click. Click, click, click. Click, click, click. Click, click-

“Here’s that paperwork for you to sign.” The charge nurse told Coriolanus while hurrying over to him. Quickly she placed the paperwork on the desk before grabbing a pen from the cup on top of the desk. “And here's a pen, sir.” She practically threw the pen at him.

“Thank you, but your family's still headed to 6.” He simply said while signing and initialing the stack of paperwork he was given. It seemed a bit of an overkill in his opinion.

The nurse turned as white as a sheet upon hearing Coriolanus’ words, but she didn't dare try to fight him on it. Her family's fate was sealed by the sadistic head gamemaker, a man whose temperament was worse than his father, the late General Crassus Snow.

Once Coriolanus was finished with your paperwork, he left the front desk without so much as a thank you or a goodnight to the nurse, and returned to your room. You were sitting on the bed watching some late night rerun on Capitol tv whenever he entered your room. Looking between you and the tv, he chuckled, “You like the god awful cooking show where the chef curses out his potential staff?”

“We only get 3 channels on our tv back home in District 12 and this is one of the channels.” You explained to him while he made his way further into the room. Truthfully, you were lucky to even have a tv since you lived in the Seam. Your brother Rein and his girlfriend, Ashlie, had scrimped and saved for years to be able to buy the thing. It was small and second hand; only picked up 3 channels. The Capitol News, Capitol Movie Classics, and Capitol Channel 3. You wished there were more channels, but you were grateful for the ones you had. Most people in the Seam didn't even have that. You know that your neighbor, Corbin, and his Auntie (a mining widow) didn't even have a tv.

As Coriolanus placed your paperwork down on your side table, you stared right at the tv (as the top chef called one of his potential staff a stupid fucking donkey for burning a risotto) and honestly revealed, “Plus watching all of these chefs get cursed out and treated horribly by their potential boss reminds me that somebody out there has it worse than me. Even though I live in the Seam with my coal miner brother and his girlfriend, who's a local barmaid at the hob, nobody's ever treated me as horribly and rudely as that award winning chef treats the people competing on his show for a job in his restaurant.”

“Hmmm…” Coriolanus hummed. Standing by your side, he tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear while asking, “And what of your mother?”

“I haven't seen her since she ran off when I was 5 and Rein was 15.” You flatly remarked.

“I see.” The platinum blonde man nodded. He felt rage boil in his cold, icy veins. How could somebody leave you as a child? You were so perfect, so innocent. You didn't deserve to be willingly abandoned by your mother. Oh, if he ever got a hold of that useless bitch she was dead. He'd make sure that she died a torturous death too.

“You signed me out AMA?” You asked, glancing over the form that was on your side table

“Yes, I signed you out against medical advice because the staff here is doing you, my darling rose, more harm then good. They're too incompetent to care for my Victor and you, Y/N, deserve nothing but the best care.” Moving to the wardrobe in the corner of the room, he told you, “I had your reaping dress cleaned and brought here for you when you were admitted. I thought you'd feel more comfortable in that than your uniform from the arena.”

“Thank you, Head Gam-Coriolanus. I appreciate it.” You thanked him, a bit nervous about what name to call him. In the end you decided to just call him Coriolanus, but it still felt heavy and wrong on your tongue.

“Please, just call me Coryo.” He countered while crossing the room with your simple cotton floral dress in hand. “Now let's get you out of your hospital gown and into your pretty dress so we can go home.” He suggested while coming to a stop right at your bedside.

Instead of standing and stripping naked like Coriolanus thought you'd do, you arched a brow at him instead only to ask, “Home? But I thought you were taking me to a penthouse here in the Capitol?”

“I am taking you to the Corso penthouse which is now your new home, my darling rose.” He slowly explained to you, as if you were a small child, while placing your dress down on the bed. Shaking his head, he grabbed your upper arm and pulled you to stand up.

“What the hell are you doing, Coriolanus?!” You shrieked, pulling away from him as he started to untie your hospital gown.

Grabbing you roughly by the upper arms and turning you to look at him, he stared down at you with cold, icy eyes. “I'm tired and want to go home and get some sleep. You will be a good girl and let me help you change.”

You tried to break his hold while assuring him, “I can get changed myself. You can go wait in the hall, Coriolanus.”

“No, my darling rose, you can't. Now, be a good girl and let me help you so we can get out of here.” He told you in a tone that was sickeningly sweet.

“Corio-” You began to protest, only for him to slap you across the face.

Tears welled up in your eyes as your hand automatically flew up to cradle your stinging cheek.

“I told you to be a good girl and let me help you, Y/N.” He sighed.

“You hit me…” You trailed off in shock as tears spilled down your cheeks.

“Oh, my darling rose, I didn't mean to hurt you.” The pretty platinum blonde man cooed while prying your hand away from the cheek that he’d struck in his frustrated anger. His blue eyes raked over your cheek, which was raw and red from the slap. Seeing your tears rolling hotly down your cheeks turned him on, as horrible as that sounded. Brushing his knuckles along your puffy cheekbone, that would surely bruise within an hour or so, he softly said, “I don't like brats and backtalk, Y/N. If only you were a good girl then I wouldn't have slapped you.”

His words left your mind going a mile a minute. So, wait, it was your fault he slapped you? All because you didn't want his help changing? That didn't make sense. Should it make sense?

You were drawn out of your mental musings whenever you felt Coriolanus’ tongue lap up the tears along your cheek. Your breath hitched at the action. Your felt a tightness in your chest and a fluttering in your lower belly as he tilted your face to lick the tears of your untouched cheek.

As his tongue traced your cheekbone, lapping up the salty tear stains on your skin, you felt a tingle in your core. Oh no. You can't have this reaction to him. It's wrong; he’s a married man and older than you. Hell, he's even older than your older brother.

Even though you knew being turned on by him was wrong, it didn't stop you from rubbing your thighs together.

When he pulled away from you, he gave you a lined smile and suggested, “Now that we have an understanding, let's get you in your pretty dress so we can go home.”

Your head was fuzzy with want and you had a slight ache in between your legs, so you were in no shape to protest or fight back. “Okay.” Your breath was shaky as you nodded. “Okay.”

“Seems like I have quite the effect on you, my darling rose.” Coriolanus smirked as his nose ran along your jawline. Your heartbeat was beating quickly, perhaps too quickly, while you felt heat pool in between your legs. Oh god, you've never felt like this before (yea, you've been turned on before, but not to the point where you felt uncomfortable and wanted to rip your hair out) and it both startled and excited you.

He licked the shell of your ear, causing a shiver to run down your spine. “I must confess, Y/N, that you also have quite the effect on me.” He whispered into your ear before pulling away and leaving you to stare up at him with shock all over your face. “Don't look so shocked, my darling. You’re very beautiful and you're resilient; a victor.”

Turning you around, he gently untied your hospital gown as if he was untying the bows to his favorite piece of lingerie. When he was done, he spun you around, nearly knocking you off balance and slid the gown off your shoulders. Your eyes darted to the floor as your breasts were exposed to him. You felt so small under his gaze and towering form as he slid the gown the rest of the way off you.

“You have such nice tits.” Coriolanus smiled in awe, lust shining in his eyes, as he began to palm your nice tits.

“Coriolanus-” You started, only for him to cut you off with the request of, “Coryo, call me Coryo.”, as he began to run his thumbs over your nipples while cupping your tits in his large, calloused hands.

“Coryo, we can't do this here. We're in my hospital room.” You told him despite his actions causing you to get even wetter then you already were between your legs.

“It's a private room, my darling rose. I paid enough for it, so I don't see the harm in us getting my money's worth.”

What the hell did he mean by that? Did he seriously want to mess around in your hospital room? Oh no. No, no, no. No. You're drawing that line at that.

Your hands wrapped around his wrist as you told him, “I just want to get out of here, Coryo. You promised to take me home, remember?”

You prayed that your words knocked some sense into him because you didn't want your first time doing sexual things to be in a hospital room, where a nurse could walk in at any time, with him (he was a married man for God's sakes!).

His demeanor deflated and he sighed, “Yes, my darling rose, I did promise you that didn't I?”, while pulling away from you. He grabbed your dress from the bed and motioned for you to lift up your hands.

“What about my underwear?” You asked, feeling a bit exposed as Coryo looked you up and down with a hungry glint in his eye. It was as if he was a starving man and you were a juicy steak ready to eat.

“You don't need them, darling. Once we get to our penthouse you'll be changing into a shirt to sleep in anyways.” He explained while motioning, once again, for you to lift your arms. This time you obeyed him and he pulled your best floral dress over your head. He smoothed it out, only to press a kiss to your forehead and smile. “You're all ready to go, my Victor.”

The car ride to the luxury penthouse seemed to take ages. You were alone with Coriolanus since he was driving and it made you feel a bit uncomfortable. After what happened in your hospital room (him stripping you and groping your boobs) you didn't think it was a good idea to be alone with him. He was married and you didn't want to lose your innocence, all of your firsts, your virginity to a man that would never be yours no matter the chemistry or effect you had on each other.

You were staring aimlessly out the window when Coryo startled you by placing a hand on your thigh. You didn't say a word, just sighed uncomfortably.

Looking over at you with a worried expression, Coriolanus asked, “What's wrong, Y/N? You seem troubled.”

Pulling your eyes off the window, you snapped your head to look at the platinum blonde in the driver's seat and honestly told him how you felt. “You shouldn't be resting your hand on my thigh, Coryo. You’re married.”

The gold ring on his finger mocked him as it shines against the red and cream floral fabric of your dress. He never had anyone turn him down because of that thin gold band he was branded with by saying ‘I do’ to Livia Cardew, well that is until now. Coriolanus knew that you were young and innocent from District 12 so the thought of being a mistress would horrify you. He knew that he had to ease your worries, so he simply told you, “Don't worry about my wife, darling. I’m taking care of everything; she won't be my wife much longer.”

“I wasn't aware ya’ll were having marriage problems. The Capitol gossip rags make it seem like the marriage is a happy one.”

“Things aren't always as they seem here in the Capitol, my darling rose.” He told you before correcting your grammar with a stern, “And it's I wasn't aware that you were having marital problems.” Patting you on the thigh as he switched lanes, he explained, “You're not in District 12 anymore and since you'll be staying here in the Capitol for a while it's best that you learn how to speak properly; like a Capitol citizen.”

You didn't say a word, just numbly nodded. You never thought that staying in the Capitol while Victor’s Village and your house was constructed meant changing how you talked. You never thought you talked strange, well until now. “Do I sound weird when I talk, Coryo?” You asked, staring at the side of his face as he drove.

“No.” He shook his head. “We just need to work on some small grammar errors here and there, but no, darling, you sound just fine when you talk.”

“Oh…” You trailed off, turning your attention back to looking out your window.

He gave your thigh a gentle squeeze, “You're a rose that just needs some extra pruning and tender care, but fortunately for you I'm an excellent gardener that favors white roses.” His thumb grazed your thigh as he explained, “White roses are the perfect symbol of purity and perfection.” As he pulled up to a large building, his baritone heavily hung in the air with the meaningful words of, “Unblemished; untouched, just like you, my darling rose.”

But how long would you be Unblemished and untouched? Would he take your innocence as soon as you entered the penthouse or would he wait until he was free from his wife? The bigger question was did you even want him to take your innocence? To give you all of your first experiences with a man? Now that was the million dollar question you didn't have an answer for. Or maybe you did, but didn't want to acknowledge it.

AN: Did anyone catch the tv show easter egg I threw in there?

Tags: @kuroosbby001 , @purriteen , @poppyflower-22 , @meetmeatyourworst , @whipwhoops , @bxtchopolis, @readingthingsonhere,@savagenctzen, @ryswritingrecord, @erikasurfer, @tulips2715, @universal-s1ut, @thesmutconnoisseur, @squidscottjeans, @sudek4l, @wearemadeofstardust0, @mashiromochi, @gracieroxzy, @belcalis9503, @shari-berri

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perlelune · 3 months

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no body, no crime | Coriolanus Snow | ix.

Your childhood friend returns from his exile in district 12, but he's not the sweet, quiet boy you once knew anymore.

Warnings: NON-CON, Plinth!Reader, Gaslighting, Drugging, Murder, Forced Marriage, Forced Pregnancy, Loss of Virginity, Somnophilia

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

You fiddle with the hem of your sleeve in the back of the car. You glance at the driver. His eyes are peeled on the road, silence filling the air. You’re thankful. You’re in no mood for small talk. Your eyes travel outside the car window. Behind you, the Corso and the Snow’s apartment is getting smaller and smaller.

Still, the weight in your chest isn’t alleviated. Not one bit. Despite heading home, not an ounce of joy finds its way inside your heart.

Your mind was at war with itself at the Snows’ penthouse. You couldn’t settle on a decision. In fact, you considered going back inside the apartment. Because that at least was simple, easy…natural almost. If it weren’t for Tigris pressing you to get inside the car and physically nudging you inside it, you’re not entirely sure you’d have even made it here.

And now…guilt consumes you.

You should be back in the room, dutifully waiting for Coriolanus ‘ return as he instructed. You’re breaking the rules. His rules.

Your stomach aches. You want to puke. What have you done? You almost find yourself wishing you were still back there.

In a twisted way, Coriolanus has become a scourge you’ve grown familiar with, a woe that blends so well with all the others. He terrifies you…but he also knows you. So well. All your fears, your hopes, your dreams, your insecurities. It’s more than you can say for anyone in your life. Even William. He thinks you’re that perfect, pure, resilient girl. You never had the heart to burst his bubble.

A deep breath makes his way inside your lungs.

No. No.

Coriolanus is bad. Coriolanus hurt you. You keep reminding yourself of that, replaying every moment when he made you feel small, powerless.

Besides, you miss your mother. Ma’s soothing words. Her gentle voice. Her warm embrace. Ma always makes things better despite struggling to understand you sometimes.

You need her and you bet she probably needs you to.

You even started to long for your father’s stern brow and disapproving stares.

As for William…truth be told, you’re beginning to ponder if you ever deserved him. He was always too good for you. Too kind. Too sweet.

You girdle a fresh rush of tears.. He should find someone who won’t lie to him, hide from him, betray him. Someone better than you.

It was naive of you to even pretend you could marry a man as wonderful as him.

The car halts in front of your parents’ house.

The driver’s cheerful voice tugs you back to reality.

“We’re here, miss.” he says. Astonishment draws a gasp from you. The drive flew by in a quick blur. Knee deep in the sea of your somber thoughts, you failed to notice you were approaching your childhood home. You fetch a bill inside your pocket but the man waves a dismissive hand at you. “Please, Miss Snow already took care of everything.” He gives a sympathetic smile. You wonder if he’s guessed anything or if he’s just picking up on the air of gloominess hovering around you. “Just take care of yourself, darlin’.”

Nodding, you mumble a quiet ‘thank you’. You exit the car and anxiously shuffle up the porch stairs. A warm breeze flutters through your chest at the sight of the familiar building.

You’re finally home.

Your gaze drifts to the garden. Surprise trickles inside you as you note that your roses are still thriving despite your absence. You wonder who you’ll have to thank for that. This batch has needed meticulous care ever since you planted the flowers. Neglecting them, even for a few days, could cause them to wither and perish.

Engulfed in contemplation, you’re startled when the front door abruptly opens.

You’re faced with Demetria’s bright smile and tearful gaze.

“Oh sweetie,” your mother exclaims, wrapping her arms around you.

You blink, taken aback by your mother’s sudden embrace. For a while, you’re unmoving, afloat in sheer disbelief.

Then quiet words fall from your tongue.

“Hey, ma.” You relax a little, your eyes closing as you hug her back. You bask in the homey scent of Ma’s perfume, worry pulsing through you when you notice how much weight she has lost since the last time you saw her. Your mother’s hardly more than bones and flesh. You shiver. Perhaps, this wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t been gone so long. You’d have ensured Ma takes good care of herself, that she eats and doesn’t sink in a well made of her own grief.

It’s what you used to do before your world fell apart. You failed your mother. Again.

You and Ma enter the house together. You bask in your surroundings, soaking in every detail. Tears almost spill, a surge of emotion mounting inside you, but you blink them away. You’ve wept enough, been scared enough. He cannot get to you here. You wish to enjoy the fact that you’re safe and sound without turning into a puddle of tears.

Arm threaded with yours, Ma leads you to the sunroom. Colorful strips of sunlight pour from the stained glass, dousing the room in warmth. The two of you sit and, some moments later, tea and cakes are brought to the table. Your insides clutch as your eyes land on a spot on the couch. You and Coriolanus had so many conversations here. In that very same spot, he held you in his arms and listened to you as you spilled your heart out.

Your mother starts prattling on about the house and what Strabo’s been up to while you weren’t here. You’re a bit flabbergasted that she’s not questioning where you’ve been all this time, her tone airy and casual, but you don’t have the heart to interrupt. You’re just elated that you can be with her again.

When your father enters the sunroom, you nearly drop your cup. He makes his way to you, on the cusp of tears for the first time since you’ve known him.

You melt in his arms when he hugs you. He cradles the back of your head like when you were little. The tears you held hostage before now roam freely down your cheeks.

“Dad,” you whisper, sniffling.

He holds you in his arms a long time before his embrace slackens. He gauges you, relief dawning on his features. He smiles. Warmth rushes to your chest. You haven’t seen your dad smile in a long time. He rubs your arms and says, “Sweetheart, We weren’t expecting you so soon.” He cups your cheek. You almost flinch at the loving touch. But then you remember. This is your father. He wouldn’t hurt you. You’re safe. “But it’s a really nice surprise.”

A watery laugh spills from your lips.

“What? But…But I’ve been gone for weeks.”

Strabo’s shoulders sag, sympathy oozing from his tone.

“Yes, but we know that…it was easier for you to stay with the Snows for a while, sweetheart. We understand.” Befuddlement wells up within you. You glance between your dad and your mother. The compassion written on their faces mirror each other. Your father pats your arm, aiming to reassure you as he adds, “Coriolanus explained everything in his letters.”

A sinking feeling grows in the pit of your stomach.

Your tremulous voice swells in the room, edging on a scream.

“What do you mean by everything, dad?”

“Sweetheart, we know. And we aren’t judging you. I promise you. Your mother and I have been young too and-”

“Can I see those letters?” you snap, dread flaring along your spine.

Strabo’s brows furrow in confusion.

“Well they’re in my study, but-”

You don’t let him finish, racing through the house and making a beeline for your father’s study. Your parents trail behind you, concern etched on their faces.

“Sweetie? What’s going on?” Ma calls.

You don’t look at them, busy rummaging through your father’s desk. Your frustration grows as you open and close every drawer.

“I need to see them. Now,” you absently reply.

“I think you need to-”

“Now, dad!”

“Alright, alright. Here.” Heaving out a weary sigh, your father strolls to a cabinet on the other side of the room. The frantic uproar of your heart fills your ears. Strabo flips through several folders before retrieving a stack of letters beneath a bunch of other files. He brings them to you and you snatch them from his hands, ignoring his shocked expression.

“Are you okay, kiddo?” he murmurs.

Your gaze falls on Coriolanus’ neat, precise handwriting. The ink blurs in your sight as you register his words, frantically flipping through the pages. Only bits and pieces sink into your mind as your eyes hop from one sentence to another. By the second, you grow more and more horrified.

Your daughter is safe with me, you have my word.

Our feelings have grown too strong for us to pretend.

As the preparations for our wedding have taken much of our time…

She is terrified you will disown her but I will speak to her.

…will return when she is ready.

…for however long it takes, do not worry.

…as she is too embarrassed to announce our love to the entire capitol.

Your daughter is well and misses you dearly.

I shall do everything in my power to keep her safe and happy, now and forever.

Safe and happy. Now and…forever?

Your heart sinks to your feet.

Your mouth wobbles as your eyes rise to meet your father’s.

“No, dad. I-I don’t think I am.”

The room starts dimming around you, your knees buckling as you struggle to keep yourself upright. Your father rushes to your side.

Then all is darkness.

When your eyes quake open, you’re greeted by the comforting sight of your bedroom. The same plushies you’ve had since you were five sit on the shelves. Pictures of your family adorn the wall beneath fairy lights. Your wardrobe is against the wall at the exact same spot and so is the antique full length mirror you received on your fourteenth birthday.

Everything’s exactly where it should be. And it drapes a balm on your wounded spirit.

At least nothing about your bedroom has changed.

You never should have left those familiar walls, succumbed to boyish smiles and honeyed lies. You should have stayed right here, drowning in your own tears and choking on your pain. It beats the hell you’re experiencing now.

Your mother strokes your cheek.

“You haven’t been eating,” she says.

You sit up in your bed.

“Neither have you, Ma,” you retaliate, your brows squeezing together as you scrutinize her.

She sends you a sad smile.

“We can eat together.”

You nod. “I’d like that.”

Your gaze travels outside your window, where you get a glimpse of the rose bushes, the blushing petals brighter than ever.

“Who took care of my roses?” you mumble without thinking.

“I did.”

Your mouth falls open. “But you hate gardening.”

Ma snorts, caressing your hair. “And you’d have been sad if they’d have died while you were gone.”

Your heart swells. Your mother hasn’t stepped foot in the garden once before. She harbors a disdain for any kind of manual labor since your family left District 2. You’re in awe that she still took it upon herself to care for the flowers because she knows how much it means to you.

“I've missed you, Ma,” you say, pulling her against you for a tight hug.

“I've missed you too,” she replies, rubbing your back. “You really gave us a scare, child.”

Her long exhale flows against your shoulder. “Like I said, we understand why you had to stay away. You and Coriolanus needed time together. I just wish you felt comfortable enough to tell Dad and I the truth.”

You freeze. You’re suddenly struck with the remembrance of what occurred before you passed out and landed in your bedroom. The letters. The ghastly, dreadful letters. Or rather Coriolanus’ dizzying tower of lies. It’s no wonder your parents didn’t seek you out.

He peddled a fairytale to them. One where you’re the princess and he’s the prince coming to your rescue. Star-crossed lovers thwarted by fate. Indignation sears through you.

Your brows knit as you lean back.

“Ma, about Coriolanus-”

Your sentence is curtailed by a bashful knock on the door. Your mother urges whoever’s on the other side to enter. A maid appears, bowing in apology.

“Mr. William is here to see you, miss,” she announces.

Your heart skips a beat.

“Oh.”

Your fingers clench, your nails digging into your palm. It was bound to happen at some point or another.

Ma seizes your shoulder, her forehead scrunched in concern.

“Do you want me to come with you, sweetie?”

You shake your head. “No. I’ve hidden enough.” You give a feeble smile. Inwards, your heart is steadily shrinking. “I’ll talk to him. Alone.”

“Are you sure? Your father and I are here if you need anything.” Her frown accentuates. “You shouldn’t let anyone get in the way of your happiness.”

You shrivel at her words. How do you even tell her and Dad? Where to even start? And most importantly, how to do it in a way that wouldn’t break their hearts?

You’re aware of the void Coriolanus has filled for them since Sejanus’ passing. While he was a brother to you, he was a son to them.

Your father’s taken him under his wing, funding his tuition and even teaching him about his business. Your mother’s grown fond of him, regularly inviting him to lunches and even baking for him sometimes.

The Plinths and Snows have become entwined, tangled as branches growing from the same tree. And you’ve let it happen, unaware your parents were allowing a viper into their home.

You want to come clean, deliver your full truth. But the fear of causing them more hurt stitches your lips shut.

Electing to set the matter aside to focus on the one currently before you, you drag your feet downstairs. You can figure out a way to talk to your parents later.

Right now, there is one person that demands your full attention.

You’re stunned to see him standing in the lobby. It’s been so long. A lifetime ago it seems. He’s as boyishly handsome as you remember him, dark curls framing his face and vibrant forest orbs sparkling with longing at the sight of you.

“William,” you greet weakly.

He wastes no time in running to you and wrapping his arms around you.

“Baby, I’ve missed you so much.”

Nuzzling the crook of your neck, he takes a long minute to soak in your scent. Your chest twinges.

“William…”

He steps back from you, his gaze narrowed in suspicion.

“Something’s wrong,” he finally says.

“Maybe we should sit-”

“I’m fine standing up,” he counters. He lifts your chin. “Just talk to me.” Your lips squeeze as your pulse quickens. So many words sizzle your tongue yet none will burst forth. William scoffs in frustration. “I haven’t seen you in weeks. I’ve been going crazy thinking about what possible reasons you could have to stay in Coriolanus Snow’s house of all people. You owe me that at least.”

You give a slow nod.

“You’re right.”

You swallow the lump in your throat before meeting his gaze.

“William, the truth is…I can’t be with you anymore.”

#dark!coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow x reader #dark!coriolanus snow x reader #hunger games #tbosas fanfiction

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kareblog · 11 months

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Teethhealing - Pro+

When it comes to keeping your Fawn Cane Corso healthy, there are a few basics that you should keep in mind. For one, make sure the temperature inside their home is kept between 68 Fahrenheit to c (or 20-25 Celsius). This will help them regulate their body temperature and ensure they’re comfortable at all times. Additionally, you should be brushing and flossing their teeth at least once a week to prevent decay and gum disease. It’s also important to take them for regular check-ups with the vet, and if they require a wisdom teeth extraction or other dental surgery make sure it is carried out promptly by an experienced veterinarian. Finally, as a freelancer it is important to stay on top of your pet’s health so that you are not met with any unexpected medical bills. Be sure to check in with your vet regularly and keep an eye out for any warning signs of illness or discomfort. With the right care, your Fawn Cane Corso will remain happy and healthy for years to come. For more information, you can visit the Teet healing website.

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palewolfcheesecake-blog · 1 day

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Animals I Associate the 2024 Grid With For No Reason Other Than Vibes

Edit: I added pics at the request of @raizelchrysanderoctavius

(this is gonna be mostly dog breeds bc a lot of them are really dog coded)

Max Verstappen - Greyhound

Sergio (Checo) Perez - English Cocker Spaniel

Charles Leclerc - Shetland sheep (specifically, a lamb)

Carlos Sainz - Australian Shepherd

Lando Norris - Capybara

Oscar Piastri - Guinea pig

George Russell - Pembroke Welsh Corgi

Fernando Alonso - Persian cat

Lewis Hamilton - White tailed deer

Lance Stroll - Munchkin cat

Yuki Tsunoda - Pomeranian

Ollie Bearman - Labrador Retriever (chocolate)

Nico Hulkenberg - American Bully

Kevin Magnussen - American Robin

Alexander Albon - Saw-billed hermit

Esteban Ocon - Siamese cat

Zhou Guanyu - Ragamuffin

Daniel Ricciardo - Eurasian/Northern goshawk

Pierre Gasly - California Valley coyote

Valtteri Bottas - Polar bear

Logan Sargeant - Basenji

(bonuses (drivers not on the grid) under the cut)

Sebastian Vettel - Brittany Spaniel

Kimi Raikkonen - Cane Corso

Mick Schumacher - Golden Retriever

Michael Schumacher - Eurasian wolf

Mika Hakkinen - Samoyed

Nico Rosberg - Standard Poodle

Jenson Button - Labrador Retriever (golden)

Mark Webber - Dingo

Ayrton Senna - Gyrfalcon

Alain Prost - Gray fox (reached to picture limit with Senna, so I'll just be sending links from now on)

Nigel Mansell - English Bulldog

Niki Lauda - Shiba Inu

James Hunt - Shih Tzu

Jackie Stewart - Rottweiler

Jim Clark - Deer mouse

Juan Manuel Fangio - Spotted hyena

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melodramastuff · 1 year

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Pedro Pascal for LOEWE by Branislav Simoncik & Jan Králíček

Dressed by @LOEWE Styled by Jan Králíček (@kralicek) Photo - Branislav Simoncik (@branislavsimoncik) Make up - Bill Corso (@bcorso) Hair - Courtney(Coco) Ullrich-Mooney (cocoullrich)

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catindabag · 4 months

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Some extra “facts” and interesting weird info about a certain self proclaimed tiger lady house cat in my TBOSAS on Crack!AU.

One of my great THG buddies was asking about Tigris Snow and her weird cheese addiction. So I just had to write some things down before I write my next short take.

Tigris Snow is extremely addicted to cheese. She’s a certified cheese addict and “cheese thief” since the day she and her little cousin (Coryo) lost their marbles after the war ended.🧀

No one knows why, but little Tigris Snow claimed that the “cheese fairies” came to her in a dream one day and saved her and her little cousin from death and starvation.

Don’t worry. Crazy Coryo Snow doesn’t mind that his poor cousin is addicted to cheese and believes in some “mythical” cheese fairies. He has his own addictions (cabbages) and problems (Highbottom & Dr. Gaul) to worry about.

In truth, Coryo’s “mythical” cabbage deities and lima bean elves commanded him to ignore the “calling of the cheese” in order to stay pretty for his sugar daddy (Sejanus).

At least both of them inherited their family’s rare ability to bargain with wild animals. They can even converse with “sacred” rabid raccoons, poisonous snakes, and wild squirrels without getting attacked.

Meanwhile, the Creeds can talk to sewer rats and fat chinchillas for some reason.

And the Ravinstills have a rare ability to command an army of Bichon Frisé puppies to do their dirty jobs for them.

Sadly, Tigris was recently fired by Fabricia Whatnot for secretly stealing and eating expensive cheese cubes and cheddar chicken sandwiches all day.

She said that her cheese fairies made her do it. A food sacrifice must be made before the “hour of the owl” in order to satisfy the ancient cheese deities of the “Golden Arches” (McDonald’s) who once ruled Panem (America) even before it existed.

Moreover, our sweet tiger was actually sewing and hiding little cheese cubes inside some of the dresses on accident purpose without Fabricia noticing. Her co-workers didn’t even know about the cheese cubes until some unfortunate lady complained about the smell.😔

That’s why our dear Tigris Snow is currently unemployed and living her best happy-go-lucky “house cat” life in Corso.

But crazy unemployed Nero Price is her worst nightmare. He’s a self proclaimed werewolf who howls at the moon all night.

She’s a poor skinny cat and Price is a crazy werewolf who runs around the city (like a wild dog) looking for rabid raccoons and Peacekeepers to fight. So it’s better for the tiger to stay home with the Grandma’am.

At least her little cousin (Coryo) buys her the best cheese tarts and sugar sticks after school (using his rich sugar daddy’s money of course).

So yeah. Tigris Snow is now the NEET (not in education, employment or training) Cat Queen in this weird universe.

However, the Grandma’am doesn’t mind. She already has big plans with old Strabo Plinth to rule Panem from the shadows after Coryo marries into the Plinth family and their fortune.

And yes, our poor malnourish looking Cabbage Boy (Coryo) is actually the real breadwinner of the family.

Coryo marrying his long time sugar daddy boyfriend (Sejanus) was the best decision he and his family ever made.🥰

At least love-struck Sejanus Plinth was willing to pay for his poor sugar baby’s bills, rent, and groceries.

So after Coryo and Seji Pie got married and had their 24 (and more) babies, crazy cat auntie Tigris decided to finally settle down and became an official cheese merchant in Corso.

She (now) even has the time to talk to her mythical cheese fairy friends without being interrupted by evil Fabricia Whatnot.

She, along with Ma Plinth also like to spend old Strabo Plinth’s filthy money on the sweetest cheesecakes and weird looking clothing hangers every weekend.

Unfortunately, Ma Plinth is the only sane person who believes in Tigris Snow’s little cheese fairy friends.

Ma even joined Tigris Snow’s little secret organization called ✨The Cult of The Golden Arches✨. But to be fair, crazy Palmyra Monty and Festus Creed are the only other official members of her cult.

Too bad. Nobody could see those little cheese fairies except for Tigris and Coryo.

However, poor crazy Coryo likes to ignore his cousin’s mythical “beasts” because he claims that his cabbage deities and lima bean elves don’t want him to bow and worship some weird annoying creatures who divided the old world with their “Golden Arches” (McDonald’s).

Reject the cheese! Bow before the cabbage!

Yeah, I know. The poor Snow cousins are unashamedly crazy and delusional with their cheese fairies, ancient food deities, sacred animals, talking cabbages, and lima bean elves.😂

But don’t be sad. Our crazy cheese tiger is still into fashion and making clothes for her little cousin and his 24 (and more) gorgeous children with Sejanus.

But selling and eating cheese is her true passion and calling (in this life anyway).🧀

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aitan · 2 months

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CHARLES MINGUS E ORSON WELLES

CAPODANNO AL FIVE SPOT

Capodanno 1959, seduto in prima fila, proprio sotto il contrabbasso di Mingus c’era Orson Welles, quasi un alter ego del jazzista, per genialità, esuberanza, fierezza, complessità. E anche per le tante disavventure artistiche. Per Mingus era un idolo, lo seguiva dai tempi radiofonici di The war of worlds, adorava Quarto potere (dove in una scena c'era il suo amico d'infanzia Buddy Collette che suonava il sax in una festa sulla spiaggia), ammirava il suo modo di vestire, il suo impegno politico (sempre in prima linea per la difesa dei diritti civili, il suo Macbeth tutto nero è del 1936), la sua voce (“mi ricorda Coleman Hawkins. Potevi sentirla a un miglio di distanza”). E non era il solo jazzista a essere stato sedotto dalla voce radiofonica di Orson Welles, anche Miles Davis lo citava come un’influenza sul suo modo di suonare: “Fraseggio, tono, intonazione: tutte queste cose possono avere come modello un maestro della parola”.

Il 1959 sarà un anno d’oro del jazz per quantità, qualità, creatività. Al Five spot, piccolo, fumoso, maleodorante locale di Bowery, scelto come luogo di riferimento da artisti e intellettuali, l'anno comincia con un formidabile double bill: sono di scena, uno dopo l’altro, Sonny Rollins, alla testa di un trio con il bassista Henry Grimes e con il batterista Pete La Rocca, e Charles Mingus con il pianista Horace Parlan, il batterista Roy Haynes (che sostituisce il fedelissimo Dannie Richmond arrestato) e i sassofonisti Booker Ervin e John Handy. È la prima sera dell’anno, ma nel club di Bowery dei fratelli Joe e Iggy Termini è anche l’ultimo impegno di quel prestigioso, favoloso cartellone con Mingus molto irrequieto per tutta la scrittura. Aveva appena registrato la musica per il film di John Cassavetes Shadows, una colonna sonora bocciata nel rimontaggio finale (la stessa cosa sarebbe successa anni dopo con Todo modo di Petri), aveva ripreso i suoi musicisti brutalmente e una volta aveva minacciato violentemente i clienti di un tavolo che, durante il suo set, non smettevano di parlare. Oltretutto ogni sera tendeva ad allargare il suo set e Sonny si inferociva, talvolta rifiutandosi di suonare. Ma era un gran clima, entusiasmante e effervescente. Rollins era in un momento di transizione, alla vigilia di un ritiro clamoroso per rinnovare il linguaggio del suo sax tenore con il leggendario e solitario corso di aggiornamento stilistico sul ponte di Williamsburg: «In un posto tranquillissimo, un angolo morto che oggi sarebbe impossibile ritrovare con il traffico che c’è» il suo racconto, dove poteva esercitarsi liberamente.

Anche Welles, come Mingus, era reduce da una delusione cinematografica: la Universal gli aveva tolto di mano la post-produzione del nuovo film, L’infernale Quinlan, ne aveva tagliato una ventina di minuti e aveva fatto girare nuove scene, modificando il primo montaggio. Più o meno nello stesso periodo era finito in soffitta un documentario intitolato Viva Italia (Portrait of Gina) perché Gina Lollobrigida aveva messo un veto, non gradendo il suo ritratto di giovane attrice ambiziosa e la Abc tv lo aveva bocciato ritenendolo cosi poco ortodosso da non poter essere trasmesso. Era un film di mezz’ora scarsa sull’Italia, paese che Orson ha frequentato per 20 anni (la terza moglie è stata l’attrice italiana, Paola Mori). Dopo un lungo oblio (Orson aveva perduto l'unica copia esistente all'Hotel Ritz di Parigi) è stato riscoperto nel 1986, proiettato al festival di Venezia ma poi di nuovo bandito su intervento della Lollobrigida.

La presenza del regista di Quarto potere al Five spot non era casuale

Nel club di Bowery si poteva incontrare chiunque, da Jack Kerouac che leggeva le sue poesie, alla mitica baronessa Pannonica de Koenigswater scesa dalla sua Rolls Royce, a William de Kooning che voleva respirare la libertà del jazz, a Leonard Bernstein che si divertiva a curiosare nella notte, allo scrittore Norman Mailer con la sua passione per quella musica. Ma la musica da sempre è stata una grande passione di Welles. La mamma pianista gli aveva fatto prendere lezioni di piano e violino e Orson aveva anche mostrato un certo talento, tanto da essere considerato un ragazzo prodigio. In gioventù era stato un grande sostenitore del jazz di New Orleans, ma sicuramente ammirava Charles Mingus per la sua musica e la sua personalità, il suo impegno, il suo agire tellurico.

(Marco Molendini)

Non potevo non condividerlo.

Due miei ingombranti miti nella stessa foto, nello stesso locale, nello stesso articolo.

#foto #music #jazz #charles mingus #mingus #orson welles

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haiku--di--aliantis · 4 months

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T'arriva all'improvviso e cambi tutto. Giri la tua vita repentinamente di novanta gradi... all'insù! Sono l'ispettrice regionale di una multinazionale alimentare. Sposata, due bimbi piccoli, un marito d'oro: bello come un ballerino, dal fisico perfetto e molto intelligente. Generoso e con un ottimo lavoro. Innamorata persa e gelosa di lui. Una volta a settimana ispeziono tutti i punti vendita delle due province a me assegnate. E gestisco gli altri due colleghi in regione.

A volte, per coprire qualche assenza, devo andare io stessa in una provincia non di mia competenza. Nel corso di una di queste supplenze ho conosciuto Laura: una semplice cassiera cinquantenne. Divorziata. Tre figli grandi. Morbida, culo generoso, bassina. Cellulite sulle cosce, nasino... asimmetrico! Quinta di seno. Capelli corti e occhi che ti bucano. Non dice una parola che sia una. Però sorridendo, lei incredibilmente sprigiona molto eros e voglia di essere amata.

Almeno questo è quello che mi ha colpita sin dalla prima volta che l'ho vista. Certo, non è una top model. Eppure me ne sono invaghita. Ho fatto carte false, per rimescolare le provincie tra noi tre, così da includere il suo supermercato nel mio giro. Sono tornata più spesso del necessario a ispezionare quel punto vendita, con scuse varie. Da Laura ottenevo di volta in volta, chiedendoli con nonchalance, i suoi turni. Un giorno ha capito, è avvampata e ha abbassato gli occhi.

Aveva voglia di me anche lei, era evidente. Ero fuori di senno e le ho chiesto di vederci. Mi ha chiesto con voce tremante ma piena di passione se fossi impazzita: le ho detto di si! Che la desideravo. Tra mille suoi e miei scrupoli ci siamo viste a casa sua. Una mattina. Abbiamo iniziato immediatamente a fare sesso. Ho scoperto che posso essere innamorata e gelosissima di mio marito, ma anche di essere disperatamente cotta di Laura. Non posso vivere senza leccarle il seno e la passera. Ho sete del suo liquore vaginale.

Al solo pensarla ho un tuffo al cuore e mi bagno. Ci scambiamo messaggi, foto e clip assolutamente disdicevoli. Voglio il suo odore intimo sul mio viso. Desidero che mi succhi il seno, mentre mi sgrilletta e mi fa sua. Lei è una cosiddetta 'lima sorda', cioè nella quotidianità appare calma, silenziosa, umile e remissiva. Ma con me diventa una vera domina. Mi comanda. Esige obbedienza immediata e mi fa fare cose assurde, che ho man mano imparato a desiderare di compiere. Devo presentarmi a lei sempre già con il collare e il guinzaglio.

Non vuole trovare neppure un pelo, sul mio corpo. E deve sentirsi libera di sgridarmi, torturare i miei capezzoli, di palettare, frustare e mordere il mio culo. E io per questo lo voglio rosso. Con evidenti tracce e segni. Devo sempre trovare il modo di non farmi scoprire da mio marito. Ma per me è facile: mi basta inginocchiarmi e fargli un pompino, che lui placa le sue voglie di esplorarmi.

Ho imparato ad apprezzare di essere schiava intimamente e mio marito mi sfrutta appieno anche lui. Anche perché Laura m'ha insegnato a prendere un uccello di gomma tutto in gola fino alla radice, senza dar di stomaco. E lui è felicissimo: ho ingoiato più sperma in questi tre mesi di quanto non ne abbia preso in corpo in otto anni, tra fidanzamento e matrimonio. Laura: uno strano incontro, sul mio percorso. Che vera droga...

Aliantis

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Strange meeting (Bill Frisell)

youtube

#Youtube #haiku di aliantis

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youngmonsters · 4 months

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Vlad says happy Monday you fucks!

#Destroy all Neighbors #Alex Winter #Vlad #Shudder #prosthetics #practical effects #special effects #Gabe Bartalos #Bill Corso

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sullustangin · 3 months

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Fluffy February Day 5: Planet

SWTOR

Rating: T

Time: Roughly, now in canon

Pairing: Theron Shan/Eva Corolastor; whole crew makes an appearance

They awoke to the sound of her name being called. “Captain!” “Eva!” “Boss!” The cries came through the ship intercom system as they finally stirred.

Initially, Eva squirmed to try to tuck herself closer to him.

Duty called. “We’ve got to get up at some point, Eva,” Theron yawned.

Eva rolled slightly to prop herself up on his chest. “We finally get away from Odessen together, for the first time in six months. Now you’re telling me I have to leave our bed without being prompted by shrieking because my crew is probably running around holding the wrong end of a servodriver.”

Theron stretched his arms out to the side. “That, or Argo is having a fit wondering where we are.”

“Theron, you’ve heard that baby cry. We’d hear him from up here.”

He guffawed. The baby was safely stowed with Bowdaar, who adored Little Girl’s even littler boy. Eva’s maternity leave had abruptly ended when her boring excursion to Port Nowhere with Rass Ordo had launched her – and the Alliance – into a rescue of Ord Mantel.

Corso Riggs, of course, helped lead the charge. Now everyone was due for some R&R, but Eva had again followed Theron’s example of …not quite stopping work.

Eva dropped her head back down onto Theron’s chest. “You want to do this again sometime?”

“Of course.”

The ship’s intercom went off again, and another chorus of hails demanded Eva’s attention. “They aren’t going to get quieter,” Theron told her as he kicked at the covers.

With a huff, Eva got to her feet and pulled on one of her robes, adding some layer of protection to the green and gold pajamas. Then she smashed a finger into the intercom. “Is something on fire?”

“No,” replied Corso.

“Bleeding to death?”

“No.”

“Why are you waking me up?”

“We made it to Distilion.”

“I can’t believe you’re seriously naming it that.” Risha’s eyeroll was nearly audible.

Theron sighed too. He really shouldn’t have inspired her with the idea it was her mission to save all the wineries, distilleries, and other liquor-producing planets in the galaxy.

Now she’d karking bought a planet, with the intended purpose of making a booze planet. All the planetary beverages that had been taxed to death by the Eternal Empire? Eva’s plan was to bring them all back, with the traditional brewers, in a haven dedicated to alcohol. Distilion.

The Voidhound’s long-lost fortune… was not that lost.

Suddenly spry, Eva was a whirlwind as she assembled her clothes and popped into the fresher. She did a record-time run of her routine and was out the door.

By the time Theron made it out to the lounge, where C2 passed him a cup of caf. “Lana Beniko has just received the manifesto and bill of sale for the planet,” he dryly informed him.

Oh boy.

“You can’t just buy a planet and add it to the Alliance without any groundwork!” Aghast, Lana nearly tossed her datapad as she wildly gestured in the Odessen conference room.

Eva flashed a near-manic smile at her as Guss passed her a datapad. “New Imperial land ordinance said I could so I did!” Theron wasn’t sure if she was happier about the purchase or rattling Lana.

“We have no established government there – it’s just being handed off to us ‘as is’ and we have no inkling as to what ‘as is’ means!”

Eva’s wrist comm let out a squawk. “Money fixes everything, Lana, as far as ex-Pub or Imp worlds go. Go look at Rishi. And good timing, Lana. The seller is on the line.” Eva added another holographic image to the Thief’s holo comm unit.

A rough and tumble-looking Rodian appeared on the screen. “Good day, Captain. So happy you’ve come through for us financially.”

“And I’d like you to come through for us regarding the infrastructure, or else some funds will remain in escrow,” Eva replied evenly, taking the cup of caf that C2 offered her.

The Rodian’s snoot shriveled up for a moment. “Fine. Didn’t expect you to take the property entirely without a problem. We have our share of separatist problems –”

“What sort of seps?” Corso asked, archly.

“Given this was an Imperial planet, probably those who wish to go to Republic. Or at least the Alliance,” Akaavi said, leaning in the doorway.

“Minor sewage –”

“80% of the planet does not have indoor plumbing,” Eva read off the datapad.

“Occasional volcanic –”

“There’s a massive line of tectonic activity at the equator.” Eva squinted at the numbers. “Less volatile than the deep mining in Makeb, so I think we can work with that.”

“Don’t forget the parts of the lowlands that need a respirator due to the toxic waste burial sites from two wars ago.” Guss jabbed at the datapad.

Eva pointedly looked up at her Rodian counterpart. “Why would you sell this treasure trove?”

The Rodian sputtered, and then –

Theron nearly burst out laughing as he saw the internal crisis play out on the Rodian’s face. He thought he was off-loading a cesspit on Eva, backed up by the data, but now he was wondering if he’d let it all go for too little – and now he’d always wonder, since the initial documents had been inked – with real ink, knowing her.

Some things were worth more than the credits.

“I… I work hard to make a better life for my Wookiee.” He mumbled as he tried collect himslf.

Guss perked up. “That your honey name for tall, shiny, and intimidating over there?” He pointed at the bounty hunter next to him (not a Mandalorian, but he certainly had the disposition down pat).

“No, my Wookiee. Kawrog,” the Rodian replied. He visibly untensed and the face was unscrunched. “More accurate to say I’m his fourth pet cat or something. He’s 152 now.”

Eva thumbed toward the general direction of the crew quarters. “Bowie’s celebrating 215 later this year. Whenever the Naboo Food Festival is.”

“Oh, he enjoys that too? Kawrog is a snob now that he’s been –”

Somehow, Wookiees and smugglers always worked things out.

@fluffyfebruary

#fluffy february #swtor fan fiction #theron shan #theron shan x smuggler #oc: eva corolastor #lana beniko #guss tuno #risha drayen #corso riggs #akaavi spar #bowdaar #c2-n2 #yes i am salty we didn't get time with corso when we saved his damn planet #oc: argento shan

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