#i started a garden this year and i'm very happy with it
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I'm not dead.
I've been trying to get back into the swing of things. To my new followers, hello! I'm a fallout fanfic writer by day, overnight warehouse worker by night, and I'm studying to be an editor.
General life updates below the cut, but long story short, life's a little difficult at the moment and I'm thinking of writing something fun for you guys to read.
For those of you that give a hoot, my English grammar studies fell off a little bit after the holidays and a week-long vacation that I spent doing a lot of gardening. (Very happy with the gardening btw.)
However, on top of having to pay out $550 in taxes, my grandmother informing me that the exercise bike she gave me is going to cost me $250, attempting to pay off two credit cards, and buying gardening supplies and flowers, my parttime status is... getting questionable? Plus, the week-long vacation was nice and all, but we took a pay cut from that because we usually get more than 8 hours every night. Since we didn't work those days, we got 8 hour pay instead of our usual 9-11 hour pay. (We work 'til the job is done, however long that takes.)
As every day goes by, I am reminded again and again why I want to work for myself and why I am beginning to hate America. Rumors going around that the government is attempting to restrict or even ban at-home food gardening, I've just decided to stick to flowers in the flower bed and maybe two new trees and skip the tomatoes, potatoes, broccoli, etc. that I planned to plant this year. Financially, it's probably for the best anyways.
SO. I'm thinking about writing a little somethin'-somethin' to entertain myself and you guys. It'll also help me get back into a good writing routine.
I'm practicing better self-care, too. Drinking iced lemon water, cutting back on the coffee and energy drinks, washing my face more regularly, moisturizing my hands, feet, and face, and going to bed and getting up at the same times every day. Anyone who knows how difficult self-care is with ADHD, I salute you. It's hard. I have to compromise with myself just to take a shower most days.
Good tips on staying motivational in order to get some studying done would be appreciated. I hope you're all doing well. Feel free to message me if anyone ever needs someone to talk to, shit's hard out here. Keep on keepin' on.
#blog talk#life update#general discussion#i started a garden this year and i'm very happy with it#i want to write more fallout fanfic but i'm going to start small to get back into the swing of things#a short story will probably be posted soon#hello new followers#this is a pretty chill fallout blog#i don't like posting anything controversial so i restrict my posts to fallout and general life updates
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idk why but the exes to lovers trope is actually so heartbreaking. especially if you’ve known them for actual years, long enough to know every nook and cranny of the other’s psyche, and you think that the love the two of your share is enough to weather through every storm. but it’s not enough, maybe it’s a right person wrong time situation, maybe it’s something else, so the two of you split, but you’ll never be able to forget them because they’ve long imprinted themselves into your bones.
wait a few years more, and you see them again: it feels like a punch to the gut because they’re real and they’re back and they’re right in front of you. you realise that you miss them, have missed them, for all the time you’ve spent apart—their touch and presence is like a ghost, a caress against your skin, fleeting and ephemeral. there is longing. and then you realise they’ve lived years of their life without you, and so you wonder how much they’ve changed, as subtle as it may seem, without you around to witness the change. and that cuts deeper than any knife could because you think back to the time when you thought the two of you meant forever. you’ve missed them in every sense of the word, and now you wish for something you think is long gone.
#and then happy ending haha anyway#man whenever i read a well-written exes to lovers trope i'm just like: shaking screaming crying throwing UP#theyre so horrible. cant believe theyre breaking my heart like this#like yeah i know its a happy ending but still#it's that one scene when the character sees the other after years apart and it's just. they think the other is as beautiful as ever#and the rest of the story is just relearning the other's quirks and whatever that you've missed#it's like going home after so many years and the flowers in the garden is different. some of the furniture has been shifted. maybe-#the walls of the house have been now painted a different colour#but the foundations are the same anyway and you fall in love with it all over again despite having loved it from the very start#anyway this absolute word vomit is coming from someone whos currently reading an exes to lovers fic LMAO#and also because im listening to hard feelings by lorde at the same time#it's a wonderful and honestly heartbreaking combination. i love it#anyway the fic is an iwaoi fic HAHHAHA it's called 'especially for tender ones like us' it's SO good im not finished with it yet but#i just kNOW its going to be good all the way through okay please read it#frostbitesjc thinks out loud#bro i couldve spent this time studying econs okay nvm bye
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There is about six inches of standing water in this nine inch hole. Our yard is saturated to the point that it can't absorb any more and more rain is coming this week. I had hoped to get all the new plants from yesterday planted today but only got one rose and the vegetables planted; I didn't account for having to widen the trench I dug a month ago, nor did I expect it to not help. That wound up taking up a lot of my time and energy, so the annuals will have to wait until Monday to go into the ground and the raised beds. At least we're out of our drought for now.
#adventures in gardening#i managed to finally get my blue girl rose planted and got the drainage holes drilled into the new big pots for the patio#have to wait on the long planter because I set some succulents into it temporarily and the bees love them#my whole yard is full of happy little bees right now#everything is flowering and growing which is great#i also planted 'midnight snack' 'dances with smurfs' and 'san marzano' tomatoes and a purple bell pepper#and I'm once again trying to grow a cucamelon#the pumpkins i planted after halloween are starting to sprout and with luck will be very productive#still need to get the carnation and pansies planted along with purple and white sweet alyssums and a 'vavoom' rose#and hope the water doesn't rot everyone's roots this year
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pre-recession, post-taste
Hello, everyone. I hope this blog can bring some well-needed laughs in really trying times. That's why I've gone back into the archives of that precipitous year 2007, a year where the McMansion was sleepwalking into being a symbol of the financial calamity to follow. We return to the Chicago suburbs once more because they remain the highest concentration of houses in their original conditions. Thanks to our flipping predilection, these houses become rarer and rarer and I have to admit even I have developed a fondness for them as a result.
Our present house is ostensibly "French Provincial" in style, which is McMansion for "Chateaux designed by Carmela Soprano". It boasts 7 bedrooms, 8.5 bathrooms, and comes in at a completely reasonable 15,000 square feet. It can be yours for an equally reasonable $1.5 million.
Every 2007 McMansion needed two things: a plethora of sitting rooms and those dark wood floors. This house actually has around five or six sitting rooms (depending if you count the tiled sunroom) but for brevity's sake, I'll only provide two of them.
With regards to the second sitting room, I'm really not one to talk statuary here because beside me there is a bust of Dante where the sculptor made him look simultaneously sickly and lowkey hot.
Technically, if we are devising a dichotomy between sitting and not sitting (yes, I know about the song), the dining room also counts as a sitting room. The more chairs in your McMansion dining room, the more people allegedly like you enough to travel 2.5 hours in traffic to see you twice a year.
Here's the thing about nostalgia: the world as we knew it then is never coming back. In some ways this is sad (kitchens are entirely white now and marble countertops will look terrible in about 3 years) but in other ways this is very good (guys in manhattan have switched to private equity instead of betting the farm on credit default swaps made from junk mortgages proffered to America's most vulnerable and exploited populations.) Progress!
Okay I really don't understand the 50 bed pillows thing. Every night my parents tossed their gazillion decorative pillows on the floor just to put them back on the bed the next morning. Like, for WHAT? Who was going in there? The Pope?
Here's a fun one for your liminal spaces moodboards. (Speaking for myself.)
Yes, I know about skibidi toilet. And sticking out your gyatt for the rizzler. I wish I didn't. I wish I couldn't read. Literacy is like a mirror in which I only see the aging contours of my face.
When your kids move out every room becomes a guest room.
Anyway, let's see what the rear of this house has to offer.
The migratory birds will not forgive them for their crimes. But also seriously, not even a garden?
Anyway, that does it for this round of McMansion Hell. Happy Halloween!
If you like this post and want more like it, support McMansion Hell on Patreon for as little as $1/month for access to great bonus content including a discord server, extra posts, and livestreams.
Not into recurring payments? Try the tip jar! Student loans just started back up!
#architecture#design#mcmansion#mcmansions#ugly houses#interior design#bad architecture#2000s design#illinois
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SWEET MEMORIES ; oscar piastri x webber!reader
summary: it's been a year since they got married and ever since then, they can't help but to go back in times and recall the sweet memories of their wedding day here and there.
note: aight, this is the last on my queue, for the rest of my works check @duhyork for more. and sorry for the wrongs and awkwardness here, i've never written a wedding scene before :)
ONE YEAR AGO...
ynwebber and oscarpiastri
liked by landonorris and 986,772 others
ynwebber 4.4.24 🤍
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landonorris wowowow congratulations to the both of you future parents! can't wait to see how your kids going to look like
mclaren Congratulations to you Lovebirds! 🥹❤️
username WHAT WHY AM I KNOWING THIS JUST NOW
username I can clearly see that is Oscar
username boy can't even remove the awkward stance off for a moment 😭😭
alpinef1team Congratulations for the wedding, Oscar. We sincerely hope that you both would have a good love life together!
username This is the first time that alpine admin say something longer than their usual sarcastic reply
alex_albon Me, Lily, and the rest of Williams team wish the both of you a very happy wedding day from LA. So sorry that we cannot attend the both of your wedding, but we certainly wish the best for you both. 🫶🤍🤍
username I js woke up and then I saw this... It honestly feels like a fever dream
redbullracing We wish you the happiest wedding to the couple!
scuderiaferrari We too at Scuderia Ferrari, represents all the drivers and crew here wish the both of the happy couple a best wedding.
username aren't they a bit too young to get married?
lewishamilton Happy wedding day to this couple! I wish you a great future and a wealthy life.
aussiegrit It is still hard to believe that you were married with my daughter now. But either way, I really wish you both to have a great life and for the rest is indescribable...
yourusername Awwwwww... Thanks dad!🥹🥹🥹
username Bro got lucky and got two webbers at once
username he already marries her dad first
“...i wish you long life, happiness, prosperity, and may the vows you made to each other today sustain you forever.” the priest said, breaking the silence for a moment before continuing his speech, “you may kiss the bride.” he ends. and by the time they kissed, the crowd's cheer is erupting from everywhere. clearly happy to see them finally holding the new title of husband and wife.
an hour has passed right from the reception, and now they're gathering at the garden, celebrating their special day. and definitely, it's led by lando, who has been his friends for all this time and has witnessed ‘the ins and outs of their romance.’
the loud sound of a fork meeting a champagne glass as he gets up caught the attention of everyone there, including the married couple. waiting for whatever going to happen next.
“okay um, first of all i want to say my congratulations to this couple for the a hundredth times today,” he said, followed by some of the audience giggle at his speech. “but i just wanted to say that, "even though I haven't known you as long as hogan has known you, but i at least know the half part of your love story along with what i'm now saying is that your wife is right in mclaren's garage." he said while smiling, and he could also see oscar whose cheeks were starting to turn red and his smile was widening every time he spoke.
"i actually never thought that they would get married in the end, but is that more surprising than him winning the heart of mark webber's daughter? the only daughter of his own manager after having his first win.” he said with a surprised tone, making mark who is sitting right in front of him covering his face as the audience's laughter is started to come from here and there as soon as lando said that.
“but really, i've witnessed their love story since... probably since he's still a newcomer, a new driver for mclaren, i've seen it.” a burst of awws coming after that, “they are completing each other from each other's flaws, and for the rest of it were just history. and also... does their cuteness count?” he looked at mark and at the time he saw him nod, he finally said: “yes. cuteness from them does count.” he ends. “everybody, cheers to the happy couple. i pray that the both of you will always be happy.” he raised his glass before finally sipping its contents, earning a bunch of applause from the crowd.
the couple can't help but to kiss once again after his speech, mark and nicole can't help but to smiled at each other, and lando looking so proud of himself afterwards.
the surprise of course didn't just end there, but the night are still young, and there's still a lot to uncover right there.
ONE YEAR LATER...
ynwebber
liked by oscarpiastri and 452,766 others
ynwebber I still recall it very clearly that when the first I saw your dad, he immediately got into tears, and oh boy so do I 🥲 I loved every second of our very special day, and I can't get enough of your love for ever after.
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oscarpiastri ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
lilymhe AAAAAAHHH YOU TWO ARE THE CUTEEESSSTT!! 🤗🤗
carmenmmundt I miss how emotional it is there, you both really suited each other.
username I CRIED TOO THAT TIME
username omg i wanna jump out of a cliff
username I don't believe it's been a year since
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oscarpiastri
liked by ynwebber and 739,902 others
oscarpiastri Inarguably the best and my favourite day of my life. You made it completely for me, Y/n. You are the best person I can asked for to be with me for the rest of my life.
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note 2: happy birthday oscar piastri, future wdc.
taglist: @queenofmanydreams @muglermami @4limq @avengers-assemble123456 @cabbyhabs @meowtastick @4mula-1 @miarabanana @amel1ee @dinosushilun1 @auggieblogs @namgification @charli123456789 @cherry-piee
#✶!#oscar piastri x y/n#oscar piastri fanfic#oscar piastri x you#oscar piastri imagine#oscar piastri x reader#oscar piastri x female reader#oscar piastri scenario#oscar piastri blurb#oscar piastri smau#oscar piastri fluff#f1 fluff#f1 imagines#f1 imagine#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 x reader#f1 x female reader#f1 x y/n#f1 x you
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Sorry
Leah Williamson x Reader
Summary: The aftermath of the World Cup
The celebrations were crazy.
The champagne, the shots, the drunken phone calls to your mother.
It all came to a close as you got back on a plane and flew home to London. You were riding the high all through the flight but you lost it all as soon as you stepped foot on English soil.
Your World Cup medal suddenly felt heavy in your bag as you slipped into the house. It was still quiet out, the moon still high in the sky.
Leah was a lump in the bed, still awake. You could tell even though it was stupid o'clock in the morning and she usually slept like a log.
You knew Leah like the back of your hand and you knew when she was feigning sleep.
You also knew not to push, flipping open your phone and sending a quick text to Codi assuring her that you made it home safely.
A similar one appeared from her a few minutes later and you got to work slipping into your pyjamas.
You hadn't said anything to Leah.
She didn't say anything to you.
You slipped into bed next to her. Usually, you would throw your arm over her waist and pull her closer but just like you knew not to talk, you knew not to touch as well.
Sleep came easier to you than it did to Leah. The late-night flight combined with Codi chattering in your ear the whole time had you exhausted and you fell into a slumber very quickly.
You didn't know what to expect when you padded downstairs the next day.
Leah's spot in the bed was empty and cold. You could hear the coffee machine whirring in the kitchen and stood to go meet your fate.
"Hi, amor," You said, lingering in the doorway.
"Hi." Leah didn't turn around to look at you, staring out the window into the garden.
Her hands trembled around her mug, raising it to her lips and sipping.
The tension was palpable. It was thick and heavy like wading through a bog.
It was silent for a beat and then-
The most awful noise ripped from Leah's mouth and you flinched. She turned to look at you, tears falling from her face as you looked at each other.
"Amor...I'm sor-"
"Don't apologise," Leah choked out," Just...don't apologise. You've nothing to apologise for. You won the World Cup, don't say sorry about that."
"Amor..." You reached for her, wary in case she rejected you but she didn't.
Her head rested on your shoulder as she sobbed and you gently rubbed her back, letting Leah curl up in your strong arms while she cried.
"Don't apologise," She said again," Don't you dare. It was the best moment of your life. Don't let me ruin it."
You apologised anyway. "I'm sorry it had to be against England."
Leah hadn't played in the tournament, not with her acl tear but she had been in the crowd for the final. She had watched as Spain outclassed England at every turn.
She watched the fluidity between you and your teammates, reminded just why Arsenal had headhunted you straight from Barcelona. You would have never realised that you had been playing away from your childhood club for years at this point.
It was annoying to watch. Leah was proud of her country, she loved being the captain but...
"You won the World Cup," She choked out," And I love you and I'm proud of you and happy but..."
"I know," You said," I know, Leah. I get it. It's okay, amor. Let it out. Let it all out."
You stood there with her for nearly fifteen minutes, rocking her back and forth in your kitchen as her coffee mug was left forgotten on the counter.
"I'm sorry," Leah said as she wiped away her tears, stepping back from you with a little awkward laugh," I had a plan last night. You were going to come home and I was going to reward you with awesome sex."
That surprised a laugh out of you.
"Somehow, I think that would have freaked me out more then you just ignoring me."
"Shut up," She said with an eye roll, recapturing her mug," We have great celebratory sex. We do it all the time!"
You laughed again. "I think you're lucky preseason doesn't start up again until next week. I've got a gold medal in my bag that I really want to see you in."
"Just the medal?"
You nodded. "Just the medal."
#woso x reader#leah williamson x reader#leah williamson#woso community#woso fanfics#woso imagine#woso
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jungle — kiyoomi sakusa
kiyoomi x f reader
18+ content, pining, slow burn, sakusa wears dog tags mmm, smut, acquaintances to lovers. kind of a historical au? (think 1930s) idk bro it's like all made up. mentions of pregnancy
9k
summary: kiyoomi seeks serenity after coming home from war.
There’s lots of commotion outside. Hollering, cheering, squeals and shouts paired with the sight of lovers reuniting, families coming together, men picking up their children and spinning them around in the air. You watch from the kitchen window as you wipe down the dishes, see some people carelessly pick the flowers from your yard to bunch up and give to wives, children, husbands, the like. Normally, you’d scold them for being so careless and probably offer a pair of garden trimmers so that they wouldn't crush the surrounding flowers, but you let it pass. Everyone is happy. The war is over.
Your mother watches as she stands next to you, handing you over the dishes to dry once she’s finished washing them clean. She looks at you from the corner of her eye, gouging out your reaction before clearing her throat.
“Do you remember Kiyoomi?”
You freeze for a second, plate and rag in hand as you try to think. “Mm. No?”
“The Sakusa family?”
“Oh,” And then you start again, rubbing the plate dry. You don’t really remember the boy, only that your mother was friends with his mother and that apparently the two of you played around as young children. You don't remember the last time you saw him. Probably couldn’t even point him out in a crowd.
“He’s coming home.”
“From the war?”
“Yes.”
“Would you like me to gather some flowers for him? There’s plenty in the backyard, too. None of the crushed ones.”
She sighs before placing the plate she held back into the sink, turning to face you entirely.
She says your name softly. “He’s coming home. Here.”
“Why? For dinner?”
“No– well, yes– but he’ll be staying here. With us.”
You slowly put out the plate face down on the long countertop cloth to let it air dry. “Since when?”
“We’ve been exchanging letters.”
Ah. You had been wondering what that was about. Each time the mail came in, your mother would scurry to get it before you could, holding it to her chest protectively before gently slicing it open in the study, purposely keeping it from you. You thought she had been exchanging letters with some sort of admirer, so to speak. You thought she’d be afraid to tell you she’s moving on after years of your father’s death.
She continues, “His parents passed a while back– they both fell ill while he was away. He just needs somewhere to stay in the meantime so he can get back up on his feet. I'm sure there are plenty of other families that would be more than happy to host a soldier, but I suppose he would feel more comfortable here. I mentioned the garden and the chickens and he said he’d help you out with those. Don’t let him, though.”
“Huh? Why not?”
Your mother lightly swats your arm and gives a quiet scold of your name, “He isn't here to work. He’s here to rest. He’s been through a lot, you know. Just let him be while he’s here.”
You roll your eyes. Your mother can tell that you're not really annoyed.
“He seems very reserved in the letters we exchanged. If he’s formal with you, insist that he don’t be. We are friends of his. Make him feel comfortable, okay?”
You hum and nod. “Okay.”
There’s a pause.
“When will he be here?”
Your mother nearly answers before you've even finished asking.
“Tomorrow.”
You’re an early bird. Even when you don’t want to be, you must. You have to tend to the chickens in the morning, tidy up and make breakfast for your mother before she goes out to the market to sell the eggs.
The morning dew that sits atop the grass kisses at your shins as you trudge towards the coop, face lit by the oncoming sunrise. The sky shifts from deep blue to a lighter blue to purples and pinks until the sun finally reaches the top of the sky.
As you get closer to the coop, you hear the familiar and pesky repetitive clucks, appreciative that the coop is farther out into the yard and not by your window.
You slide the coop door open, stepping to the side as they rush out with curiosity.
“Mornin’ kids,” You start before emptying out their dirty water, tossing it into the grass before turning on the hose to fill up the bin.
You replace the water, give them more food, collect the eggs that are deemed ready, and hang out with them for a good thirty minutes to make sure they’re healthy and roaming around like normal. You sit on the grass, knees to your chest as you absentmindedly say hi to them when they pass by or stare at you.
Once the sun has almost fully risen, you grab the basket of eggs and make your way back into the house, slipping out of your boots before stepping inside.
The morning goes as always; Your mother wakes up, thanks you for handling the chickens, thanks you as you place her breakfast on the table, gathers all the eggs she needs to sell, and kisses your cheek before she heads out to the market.
“Kiyoomi should be here later, once I’m already home. Please make sure the spare bedroom is clean, with fresh sheets. If he happens to arrive early, be nice.”
“God, don’t act like I’m insufferable! I won’t drive him out.”
She smiles knowingly. “I know, my dear.”
She looks like she wants to say more, but swiftly turns on her heel and takes her leave.
The rest of the day is spent cleaning up the spare bedroom to make sure it’s nice and welcoming for when your new guest arrives. You smooth out all the bed linen and wipe down the dressers, making all photo frames and little trinkets look presentable. It doesn't take long for you to set it all up– the bedroom has always been very empty. You wonder how it'll look like when it’s more lived-in, with boots and coats and whatever else he may carry laying around.
You slip into the kitchen and wash your hands, preparing to make lunch. With the curtains on the kitchen window drawn shut, you fail to see the man that climbs up your porch steps, eyes downcast as he raps his knuckles on the door a few times.
You freeze in your spot almost violently. It’s much too early for him to be here, and when you glance at the clock on the wall, you’re convinced that it has to be someone else– perhaps the neighbor?
Drying your hands on the apron tied to your dress, you draw back the kitchen curtain to get a little peep.
You almost squeal as you back away from the window, covering your face with your hands like you’ve just seen something you weren't supposed to– but you had just seen him. He was… big. That’s all you could think.
When you open the front door, the two of you stare at each other, silent.
Yes, he’s big. Broad shoulders, gifted with height, and his chest seems…. inviting in the military uniform he wears. You finally make eye contact with him, scanning over his handsome features, the two little beauty marks that rest atop his eyebrow, the pretty curve of his lips—
“Hello,” He says with an air of formality, and you clutch at the skirt of your dress.
“Hi… hi.”
He stares at you blankly.
“I, ah— come in, Kiyoomi,” You start, standing to the side as he takes off his boots and leaves them by the door, following diligently as you lead him to his room. He doesn’t even spare a glance to look around the house, eyes trained on your back.
“Here,” You say, opening the door to his room. “The bathroom is down the hall, my room is right there– right across, and my mother’s room is the farthest one down the hallway. There’s a, um, study if you'd ever like to read or spend some time in there. Do as you like,” You explain gently, a warm smile on your features. “I was just making lunch. Are you hungry? Would you like some?”
“No thank you,” He says immediately, looking down at you. “Thank you for letting me stay here.”
“Of course! My mother should be here in a few hours. For now, the house is all yours– er, ours, but– well, yeah, yours…” You trail off with embarrassment, looking into his eyes for help, hoping he’ll finish your sentence or laugh it off with you.
He doesn't.
As soon as you back away and start walking back to the kitchen, he shuts the door softly and coupes himself up in there.
You frown to yourself, remembering your mother’s words. He seems very reserved, let him be, he’s been through a lot.
You do just that, careful to not make any noise as you prepare lunch, then sit by yourself at the table to eat. There’s a light clink and clatter of the dishes as you wash them, but you can only hope he doesn’t mind.
Noon turns into night and you’re still alone. You haven’t heard Kiyoomi leave the room or rummage around at all. It’s like he never even arrived.
You’re not surprised when your mother comes home and deems the house empty (besides you being there) and exclaims that the both of you must rush and start working on dinner because Kiyoomi deserves nothing but the best. You feel your skin prickle hot for some reason. She wasn’t wrong, but if Kiyoomi had heard her say it, it sounded like she was one of those old ladies who desperately fawn over younger men. You didn’t want him to get the wrong idea.
You laughed nervously and bumped her hip with yours, quietly telling her that he had already arrived.
She gasps dramatically, hand flying to her heart as she scolds you.
“Why didn’t you invite him out here to sit with you? Has he eaten lunch? Did you offer him lunch? Goodness, my dear, this is no way to host someone. Ask him to step out! Did you show him around the house, at least? Oh, heavens– did you change the sheets?”
Your ears feel terrifyingly warm, knowing very well that your mother was loud enough for Kiyoomi to hear her through closed doors. Just thinking of him overhearing you get scolded made you want to scuffle away and complain in embarrassment to the chickens.
“My apologies, miss.”
The both of you whirl around to see Kiyoomi, who looks absolutely delightful, you think.
His curls are mussed as if he had been sleeping, uniform ditched for a skimpy white undershirt tucked into some slacks, the planes of his chest peeking out and greeting you handsomely. The dog tags that are strung along the chain around his neck glint in the kitchen light, almost like they’re saying Hi. “It’s not her fault, I assure you– I had turned down her offer for lunch, and I just wanted some time to myself after arriving. No hard feelings at all.”
He speaks in such a collected and calm manner, and his face and eyes look empty. He’s good at containing all his emotions.
“Oh,” Your mother breathes out, a wistful smile creeping onto her face. “Oh, my lovely Kiyoomi!” She rushes towards him and cups his face, smushing his cheeks in her hands, beaming up at him. The action makes his eyes widen, hands immediately flying up to push hers away, but he stops himself just in time and lets them fall back to his sides.
“How you’ve grown! My goodness, it’s been ages, my love, please– please sit down, we’ll make some soup, okay? Just rest. Tell us, how have you been? Any good stories?”
She greets him like a mother would, and for a second, you think you see his features relax. Not wanting to get caught ogling at him, you turn and face the cutting board, lining up all the vegetables needed for the soup.
The two talk the entire time, your mother silently leaving the task of cooking up to you. You don’t mind at all, keeping your back to the both of them to hide the look of shyness on your face. Every time Kiyoomi speaks, you feel your hands stutter.
The conversation is mostly your mother gushing over him and how much he’s grown, telling him he’s such a handsome young man, asking him how his trip over here went, and then she asks him if there is a woman in his life. You know that it would be normal for him to feel a little flabbergasted from such a question, but you don’t know why you feel so embarrassed as well.
You figure it’s because if he says he does have a special someone in his life, your mother would turn around and berate you (in front of him) for not being ‘out there’ enough and for not seeing someone already.
To your surprise, he weakly mentions that no, he doesn’t have anyone like that in his life. He quickly excuses it by saying that he had been too busy during the war to worry about such things.
Your mother laughs good-naturedly, flailing her hand around, “Oh, of course. Silly me!”
By the time your mother opens her mouth to tell him that there are plenty of riveting people around town that he may like, you announce with your back still facing them, “Soup’s ready.”
You serve your mother and Kiyoomi, keeping your head down as you approach him and place his bowl on the table. He thanks you in a quiet, rumbly voice that makes you go completely still for a split second.
Conversation dies down as the three of you eat. Your mother has pulled out as much as she can from Kiyoomi. He avoided a lot of questions about the war, about his experiences, about what he saw. You can’t help but wonder.
Your mother interrupts the silence as she subtly turns to face you.
“How are the vegetables doing?”
“Growing,” Is all you respond as you stuff another spoonful of soup into your mouth. She’s grasping at straws to not let the atmosphere turn awkward.
You figure that if Kiyoomi is going to be staying here, may as well be casual, treat him like anyone else (despite the fact that he looks like he came down straight from Heaven).
You shift in your chair, the wood creaking. “Tomorrow, could you buy some more flower seeds from the market? You can pick which. I need to fill in the spaces that were crushed yesterday from all the people.”
Her eyes light up, “Of course, dearie. Thank you for reminding me.”
The two of you talk about mundane things for the rest of dinner, topics you usually discuss. Kiyoomi finds it comforting. Makes him feel more at home.
The next morning, you rise before the sun kisses the sky, as always.
You pull on the short linen clothing you use for working, old stains of mud and grass forever tainting the articles. As quietly as you can, you pad around the house before reaching the back porch, tugging on your work boots before stepping into the fresh morning grass.
Unbeknownst to you, Kiyoomi is also an early riser, a habit that he has cultivated over years of training. He watches you from the backyard’s dutch door, the top half open. He rests his elbows on the bottom half and leans forward, watching and listening as you greet and coo at the chickens like they’re your children. His eyebrows twitch up when he hears you reprimand one– Stop putting grass in the water, Harold!
After you dump out the water, you pick up the water bucket and take it over to the pump, working the water into it. With your back turned to Kiyoomi, you don’t hear as he steps through the grass towards you.
“Good morning,” He greets politely, and you yelp.
Whirling around with the half-full bucket in hand, the water flies out and crashes right into him, soaking his torso and the entirety of his pants.
You drop the bucket.
“Oh my gosh– oh, Kiyoomi— I’m so sorry, I’m so so sorry, oh my goodness– I didn’t– I’m so sorry—”
You're petting his torso worriedly, as if your hands will soak up all the water that has been spilled. He knows you have good intentions and are just trying to help somehow get the water to dry, but your touch makes him stiffen.
You’re repeating that you're sorry, and the more that you ramble on, the more he can hear the tremor in your voice as you squeak and swallow and try to push this upcoming embarrassment down. Kiyoomi lifts his hands and places them right on your arms, completely stilling you. “It's fine.”
It comes out clipped, like it's not really fine, but you can’t tell if he's annoyed. His face remains stoic.
“I’m so sorry,” You whisper.
“It's okay. You weren't aware that I was here. I understand.”
You look over him again, the bottom half of his cotton shirt soaked and his pants clinging onto his legs like paint. You’re so embarrassed and ashamed that you can't even find it in yourself to admire him.
“You’ll– you’ll get sick. Let’s go inside,” You plead, stepping away from his touch and gathering your skirt in your hands to run back into the house, hastily kicking off your boots before prying the bottom half of the door open.
He watches you scurry around the house to make him some tea, pouring water into the kettle and sorrowfully letting him know it’s gonna take a few minutes. You advise that he changes but don’t push it on him too much, not wanting to be over controlling.
He disappears into the room and shuts the door, and you plop onto the dining table chair. Resting your head in your hands, you mentally chastise yourself for messing up like this, and on the first day that he's been here, too.
The kettle whistles. You pick yourself up to see Kiyoomi already looking at you, in a pair of clean clothes. Embarrassment crawls up your spine.
“I’m sorry.” You say again, turning to silence the kettle and pour the water into a mug before adding a few loose tea leaves.
“I’ve already forgiven you.”
“I know, I know but– I’m really sorry.”
He only sighs. You take that as a sign he’s frustrated.
“I’m stepping back outside,” You say, “Still have to get stuff done.”
He nods stiffly. You walk with your tail between your legs to the backyard porch, putting on your boots and this time shutting both halves of the dutch door.
You confide and whine to the chickens as you clean up and spread out their food.
Despite the incident, Kiyoomi insists that he help you out in the mornings. He follows you out to the back porch and manages to slip past the threshold before you can shut the bottom half of the dutch door to trap him inside (he can always just open the door and walk by, but you tell him it’s the prospect of trapping him inside that matters the most. His eyebrow twitches at that).
He lingers as you talk to the chickens, which you do quietly now that you know that he’s there. He pretends to look away when you tell Harold good morning.
When you finish saying your greetings to the birds, you tell him to go back inside. This is your job only and he should take this time to rest or get some extra hours of sleep– but he insists. He tells you he can’t sleep for any longer, he’s spent years rising early and getting straight to work and if he were to lay in bed he’d just lay restless.
You know your mother will scold you later, but you offer him some work to do anyway. You tell him to replace the water while you give them fresh food. And he does so gladly, falling into a rhythm with you that, if a stranger looked at the scene, would convince them that he belongs here and always has.
There’s this sort of look of serenity on his face, like he’s content to be doing something rather than staying in the house (which is what your mother has been pressuring him to do).
The rising sun kisses his face, reminding you of his beauty. His skin practically glows and you can’t help but let your eyes linger on the moles on his forehead.
In this kind of lighting, you see faded scars on his hands and arms, earned from hardwork and fighting and war and other things you cannot even imagine. They make him seem gruff (more than he already is) and in a way, scary. But the way he handles the chickens and the land and the water with such a tender touch tells you otherwise. For a brief second, you wonder if he would hold you with such care as well. You shoo the thought away.
Kiyoomi stays with you while you watch over the chickens. He stands while you sit on the grass.
“Talk to them,” You encourage.
He lifts an eyebrow. “And what should I say?”
“Ask them how they are.”
Kiyoomi clears his throat and looks at one of the chickens, “My… My dear Harold,” He starts, “I hope you are in good health.”
You laugh, “So formal, Sakusa.”
He finds himself humming. Humming. Humming in amusement.
When you're done with the chickens, you tell him he can go back inside and relax while you check up on all the vegetables, but he tells you he wants to help with that too.
You untie your apron and start checking on and picking the ripe vegetables, bundling them in the cloth. Kiyoomi, truthfully, seems a little lost as he handles pulling out the vegetables and leafy greens with a sort of hesitance as if he’s afraid to hurt them. You scoot over closer to him and offer some help.
“They won’t cry in agony, Kiyoomi.”
“I–” He starts, embarrassed. “You mistake me.”
“How so?”
He doesn’t answer, runs out of excuses. Suddenly Kiyoomi thinks the sun feels warmer when your hands brush over his own to guide him, encouraging him to pluck at the vegetables. He gets the hang of it, bundling up all the produce in your apron before the two of you make your way back inside.
When your mother sees the both of you step in, kicking off your boots and hands stained with dirt, she tsks at you.
“I specifically told you not to ask for any help.”
Embarrassment blooms in the depths of your chest. Getting scolded in front of Kiyoomi will be the death of you. You want to defend yourself but you don’t want to throw him under the bus, either. You hold the bundle of vegetables and greens closer to your chest, almost protectively.
“She did no such thing,” Kiyoomi interjects before your mother can continue. He stands tall, seems bigger, voice collected but strong enough to cause the both of you to jump. It’s been ages since you and your mother have been in the presence of someone as powerful as Kiyoomi.
He visibly slackens, clears his throat. “She didn’t ask for my help– told me to go inside, actually. I took it upon myself to help her.”
“Oh,” Your mother breathes out, tone suddenly sweet and forgiving. “I see.”
The silence that rests between the three of you could pierce your ears. You skitter into the kitchen to wash all that you’ve collected and leave your mom and Kiyoomi alone. In a matter of seconds, she’s already cooing at him and telling him that there’s no need for him to be working, it’s fine if he wants to rest inside, there’s plenty of time for him to spend his days off. He’s silent in response.
After you make breakfast and your mother leaves for the market, you gather all the dishes and make a beeline for the sink, pouring hot water over the dishes to scrub them clean.
Kiyoomi follows up behind you, rolling up the sleeves of his cotton shirt, bunching it up right above his elbows. You watch as he leans forward to grab a washcloth, swallowing when you see his dog tags swing low as he dips down. They clink back onto his chest when he stands upright.
“Thank you,” He says suddenly, eyes focused on the plate in his hands as he wipes it in a circular motion.
“What for? I should be the one thanking you, Kiyoomi. You defended me in front of my mother.”
He takes a second to formulate what he wants to say. “I must thank you for letting me work with you. I know your mother has good intentions, and I appreciate that she insists I rest.”
You tilt your head up at him, silently asking if he will continue.
Kiyoomi, unbeknownst to you, is facing an internal battle with himself. Years of being in war and surrounded by men who believe vulnerability is weakness often leaves him staying quiet in moments where he wishes to speak. He mulls over what he wants to say again, wondering if you’d laugh him off and tell him to not be silly. But he knows that you sense something is up, your eyes taking on a glimmer of understanding and kindness before you look down at your plate. “I won’t force it out of you, Kiyoomi.”
He looks at you affectionately, but you miss it as you stack the plate on the counter.
“Well, since you’re practically pleading me to share my thoughts, I’ll tell you.”
That makes you laugh. You laugh a gentle little laugh, and Kiyoomi has to turn back and face the dishes so that he doesn’t lose his thoughts.
“Your mother, I… I know she means no harm. I know that she may believe that I need rest and time and some sort of recuperation period. I don’t mean to be rude, but she… it feels as if she is doing worse than good, for me.”
You nearly freeze on the spot, worried about what he’ll say next. You’re scared that you and your mother have ruined his whole stay.
Kiyoomi breathes out your name, “I assure you that I am not a wounded dog that must be left alone to rest and sleep the pain away. I want to live a normal life, now. I’ve faced enough estrangement in the war. Please, allow me to work and live with you just as anyone else would.”
It’s a simple, simple request. A simple request that would have anyone cheering and clapping and showing him to the damaged flowers in the front yard and putting him right to work. It’s a simple request that makes your heart clench and twist in the caverns of your chest, knowing that he wants to live a life of normality and serenity. Knowing that he has opened up to you about being shunned away. It makes you feel trusted, and in a way, sought out.
You’re silent for a beat too long and Kiyoomi looks like he wants to scrub away all the words he just said with the way he resumes at washing his plate. As you set another one to dry, you tell him calmly, to prevent the feeling of pity arising in the air, “Of course, Kiyoomi.”
The corners of his lips twitch up when you tell him the bushes out front need to be trimmed.
You tell your mother of Kiyoomi’s request that same night, and she scoffs and frowns and throws a little fit before she caves. She initially insists that you only give him light work, but eats up her words at the glower you throw her way.
He helps you trim the bushes, the weeds, helps you with the vegetables and the chickens and watches eagerly as you prepare food so that he can take on that task later on.
You stir the soup around in the pot, sprinkling in some herbs and seasonings to add some more flavor. He asks you how much you use, you tell him you just know in your heart when to stop. When the kitchen falls quiet, you pick on him and teasingly ask, And how should you cook? And he answers, suppressing a laugh and an eye roll, With love.
You peer down into the pot.
“Okay. Kiyoomi, I am trusting you to deem it ready. Have a taste. The fate of this dinner falls on you.”
He bites his cheek at your dramatics.
You bring the ladle up to his lips and Kiyoomi has to lean forward a little to meet you halfway. You press the spoon to his lips and he lets the liquid in, his eyes locked on yours as he takes a sip. You feel small in some invigorating, exciting way.
He pulls away to think about the taste. “A little more rosemary.”
You eye him carefully but take his word, dipping the ladle back into the pot and sprinkling in a few more leaves. After a few stirs, you scoop the liquid back into the spoon and hold it up to him again.
He leans forward without being told, almost eager to have you press it to his mouth. Again, he keeps his eyes trained on your face as he has a taste.
When you pull the ladle away, he remains close to you, face inches away from your own.
Your fingers twitch.
“Yes,” He breathes out, your lashes flutter. “It’s ready. Made with love.”
You can’t tell if your mind is playing tricks on you, but he seems to be inching closer and closer, your grip tightening on the end of the ladle as you start freezing up, debating whether or not to shut your eyes.
You watch as his pretty eyes close, and with your heart leaping and palms sweating around the ladle from nervousness and the heat that remains in the small space between you two, you let your eyes slip shut.
You know it– you know it, it’s coming, his lips right against yours, you think you can already taste him—
“I’ve arrived early!”
The both of you jump backwards and the ladle collides with the floor.
“S-Sorry,” You whisper to Kiyoomi, picking up the ladle and tossing it in the sink before grabbing a different one off the kitchen rack. His shoulders sag and you think you hear him sigh, but he composes himself quickly as your mother makes her way into the kitchen.
She sees the two of you in front of the soup pot and beams, missing how stiff the both of you look and how you’re wiping your sweaty hands on your apron.
“Teaching Kiyoomi how to cook? Good! Good good, more men should partake in household chores. I cannot wait to taste how Kiyoomi’s soup comes out, should he cook for us soon.”
He nods curtly, watching as you dip the new ladle into the liquid. You look shaken up, movements jagged and nervous, and he fears he’s done something terribly wrong.
“Did you teach him the most fundamental lesson in cooking, dearie?”
At that, a smile slips onto your face.
“Yes. Cook with love.”
When the three of you eat dinner together, Kiyoomi mulls over the fact that it was made with love. Your love. He wants to eat so much that he feels full of your affections. He wants so much of it that he cannot help but decline anyone else who offers food, because he’ll be full of your love.
You two never bring up the almost-kiss. Kiyoomi is scared that he’s pushed a boundary and you’re scared that you misread the situation– so the two of you remain silent and try to fall back into the familiar pattern of days, the rhythm you two share.
The tension is nearly unbearable when the two of you are less than two feet apart. It almost hurts. It hurts Kiyoomi to look at you so longingly and you never notice. It hurts you when you try to scoot a little closer and all he does is move away. You think it's because he's disgusted with you. He just wants you to feel comfortable.
Days pass and the both of you pack the incident up and back away into the furthest crevice in your minds. Everything seems alright again– you both talk to the chickens, trim the flowers and cook dinner by each other's side.
You’re preparing to cook and pull your apron off the hook rack that’s nailed right by the kitchen entrance. Kiyoomi watches as you slip it on and watches when you huff in frustration as you try to reach behind yourself and tie it off. Your arms start getting sore from the awkward position they've been in, the apron straps unraveling again and again in protest. You’re about to let the damn thing flail loose until you hear Kiyoomi clear his throat behind you.
“Let me help.”
Your cheeks burn.
He delicately takes the straps into his hands, making the base knot against your back and pulling it. “Is that good?”
It’s a little loose.
“Tighter, please.”
He pulls. It’s almost like you’re drawn backward, nearly knocking into his chest. He starts tying up a little bow and you feel the brush of his fingers against the small of your back, shivers running up your spine and shoulders. You have to hold yourself back from twitching.
“There,” He says, taking a step back and admiring his handiwork. He keeps his eyes trained on the bow, tries to hold himself back from drinking in your entire figure.
It’s oddly domestic, intimate. It has you drifting off in thought, has you confirming all your wonders about his touch that had crowded your mind ever since that day when you saw him pull out the vegetables. He is gentle. You can only hope that the softness of his touch is a testament to his feelings (more specifically, his feelings about you).
You cough. You make it awkward. You thank him in a quiet, choked up voice before gathering all the pots needed for dinner before scrambling away to start on the food. Kiyoomi thinks he made you uneasy and this time, stands farther away from you when you show him how to prepare the food. Your heart aches at the same time as his. Both of you are back to square one.
The following days are painfully repetitive. It’s a cycle of the two of you falling back into place, and then your hands brush his, or you catch him staring, or you lean in too close to him, and then the both of you are creating more distance and relapsing into silence and copious amounts of space.
On this particular night, the two of you are sitting far apart, him on the rocking chair with an open book, and you on the other side of the living room, pressed into the far corner of the couch, embroidery hoop in hand.
You could trick yourself into thinking that there’s a sense of peace that blankets the two of you, a scene of quiet comfort and domesticity before there’s a dull knock on the door.
You both freeze. You’re the first one to get up to go check, and Kiyoomi is a little too late in his reaction as he tries to tell you that he’ll get it, a weird sense of protectiveness overcoming him.
The door is already open and the air is knocked out of your lungs.
Before you stands a tall, handsome man, brown hair slightly disheveled, a smile growing as he looks down at you. He is very attractive. But not as charming as Kiyoomi, a voice in your head whispers.
“Well, well, well,” He starts, leaning onto the door frame. “Didn’t know Omi was staying with a pretty little lady.”
“Miya,” You hear from behind you, nearly jumping as your skin burns hot knowing there are two striking men trapping you.
“Ah! My old friend!” The man cheers, his eyes searching yours for approval to step inside. Without any hesitation, you grant him access, slowly backpedaling into Kiyoomi’s chest with a squeak before he moves out of the way, the two of you letting the man inside (much to Kiyoomi’s dismay).
“Miya,” Kiyoomi starts again, gaze hardened. “What are you doing here?”
“Don’t be like that, my good friend,” The man, Miya, repeats. “Hurts when you address me by last name.”
Kiyomi doesn’t retort. He won’t play into the man’s tricks of beating around the bush.
Finally, he fesses up.
“Bo and Shoyo and I are going to meet up at the pub in a bit, thought you’d like to come along.”
You see Kiyoomi make a face.
“I have suffered enough from your presence over the last few years. Please do not try to rope me back into your antics.”
“Omi!” The grown man whines, face falling before he remembers that you’re standing there. Slowly, his face shifts into a wicked smile, and Kiyoomi’s frown deepens.
“Ah ah ah,” He starts, dipping down and leaning in closer as if he’s examining you. “I know why you’re so adamant about staying. Find yourself a pretty little wife?”
The both of you choke.
You’re about to protest, but Kiyoomi is pushing Miya out the door, effectively letting you hide behind the broad expanse of his back, but you peek out from behind him to see what’s happening.
“If I– If I go with you this time, will you swear to not come back?”
“Don’t be like that, Omi.”
“Miya.”
“Just say Atsumu! And fine! I won’t visit after this. Won’t steal your pretty lady away.”
“You are unbearable.”
Your cheeks feel hot as Kiyoomi turns around to face you, face irritated.
“I’ll be on my way. I should be back before it gets too dark out. Please stay safe.”
You give him a meek goodbye as you watch him pull his coat from the rack next to the door and slide it on, watch closely as he threads his arms through the sleeves, watch as the article fits snugly against his form, watch as he again proves that he is a sight for sore eyes.
After you shut and lock the door, you rush to the kitchen window to get a peek at the both of them descending the porch stairs, watch as Atsumu laughs and hangs close to Kiyoomi as the latter tries again and again to maintain the space between them and throws unimpressed looks his way.
When your mother comes home, you tell her Kiyoomi went out with his friends. She smiles and thanks the heavens, happy that he’s finally getting out there. She tells you she hopes he finds someone he may like while he’s out.
You only hum in response.
Hours pass and Kiyoomi is still out. You and your mother have already eaten dinner and she’s already fast asleep. You’re already in your nightgown and tired of waiting around.
You step outside and stand by the chicken coop. You watch them sleep and some of them scatter around and you talk to them as if you’re sending wishes to the universe. Tell them you hope Kiyoomi is okay. Tell them you hope he gets home safe.
As soon as you’re stepping back inside the house, there are drunken laughs and weak knocks at the front door. Not wanting to seem too excited, you take a few deep breaths to pass time before you hear that Miya boy holler out a muffled Pretty lady, come and get him! Which is nearly cut off by a familiar groan. Kiyoomi throws some swear words around.
You open the door and find that the two of them were using it as support as they nearly fall into you. Atsumu catches you before you can trip on your own feet and fall backward.
“Hi,” He breathes out into your face, and you have to hold back from scrunching your nose. He smells of liquor but his steady arms keep you rooted in place, his physique nearly swallowing you whole.
“Hello,” You start, hyper aware of how you look and if you have any blemishes on your face and how close the two of you are, but before you can think of anything else to find a flaw in, Atsumu is pulled back by Kiyoomi.
“Stop terrorizing my host,” Kiyoomi hiccups out, trying his hardest to remain stern and imposing, but his friend only laughs brightly.
Atsumu slurs out your name, “You must know,” He starts, leaning his arm on the door frame, trying to pose coolly. “Omi mentioned you an awful lot tonight. Think he might have taken a—”
“Miya.”
“Yes, my most beloved Omi,” Atsumu professes, cheeks pink and dewy from all the alcohol. “I’ll leave you two be.”
He clumsily spins on his heel, trips on his way down the steps, and crushes another flower bush.
Your eyes flash with pain and Kiyoomi shuts the door before you can see Atsumu trip into anything else. He’s rather good at composing himself, straightening his face and posture as he looks at you.
“Would you like some dinner?”
“Yes, please.”
You find out soon that Kiyoomi is mouthy when he’s drunk. After you reheat what was left over from dinner and slide the plate towards him, he asks that you sit down with him. His face flashes with disappointment when you sit across from him instead of right by his side.
In his drunken state, he spills all that he’s kept inside without you even needing to probe. Tells you he plans to get going soon, has his eye on a place, tells you he's ready to move on and start life from scratch. He tells you he's tired of you avoiding him like the plague, but there's no malice behind his voice– only pure disappointment, like he’s sulking. At that, you perk up and lean forward, guiltily trying to fish some more out of him.
“Hate that you stay so far away,” He grumbles before stuffing his fork in his mouth. “Always jumping and skittering around me like I’m, I’m– frightening. Hate that you think I’m scary.”
He hates that you keep your distance, hates that you've deemed him untouchable, hates that you see him as some warlord man who will crush you beneath the soles of his shoes if you utter something incorrectly.
“Miya,” He suddenly blurts, and for a second you think he thinks you’re the man that just left.
“Miya told me to confess to you.”
Your blood runs cold. Confess…?
Kiyoomi is quiet after that, finishing up his food with sad eyes. He wants more and more and more, any drop of your love that he can get, he will take it.
You don't ask if he means confessing by telling you all that he hates or if he means confessing something else. Something else that has your stomach stirring, heart doing odd twists as your fist the skirt of your dress. It's hard to think about it when he's right in front of you and slurring his words and clumsily pushing his plate away. It's something you must think about later, in the solace of your own room.
When he’s done, you help him shrug off his coat, watch as the expanse of his back reveals himself to you. You guide him to his room, expecting him to close the door as soon as he steps in again, but this time, he turns to face you and leans on the frame. He swallows as he looks over you, eyes droopy and tired, and he looks so vulnerable in this light. He’s loosened up, mouth parted only slightly as he lets his eyes wander where he usually doesn't when sober, lets his mind think what he usually holds back on any other day.
He breathes out your name. You look up at him curiously.
“I wish you could come with me.”
You stiffen. You gently place your hands on his chest and push him back into his room slowly– your touch makes him smile.
“Goodnight, Kiyoomi,” is all you say.
“Goodnight, angel.”
Just like the almost-kiss, neither of you bring up what Kiyoomi said that night. It's an elephant in the room– at least, to you. You’re not sure if Kiyoomi even remembers what he said. (He does).
The two of you delve into another game of dancing around each other in circles, putting on a show that makes it seem like everything's alright and that your hearts don’t ache. Neither of you are aware that when night falls and you're in your respective rooms, the both of you dwell and worry about what you've said and done.
As of late, Kiyoomi hasn't been around. He still helps you with his morning tasks, but after breakfast, he slips out of the house and tells you he will be searching around town for work with his friend Miya. You know that he doesn't owe you any explanations, but some part of you appreciates it.
(Kiyoomi knows this, too. He wants you to know he isn't seeking anyone else out there).
Day in and day out, he's around less and less. You start to think that Kiyoomi is now trying to get rid of his feelings ever since you didn't exactly reciprocate what he said that night, when he was drunk.
One heartbreaking evening, Kiyoomi announces that he’ll be leaving soon over dinner. Your mother has a big smile on her face as she congratulates him and cups his face and cries on and on about how proud she is and that he deserves all the best. You nod along to everything that she says, but your vision blurs and all the twines of your fork blend together and it’s hard to see what you’re eating. It's even harder to hold back your sniffles as she starts asking him where he’ll move and where he’ll be working and if he's met anyone. She's always on his back about that last one. It makes your heart feel bitter and heavy.
The next morning, your mother insists that she go out to the market and get Kiyoomi some farewell gifts. He reassures her that she doesn't really have to, tries to convince her to stay as she's already putting on her coat, and then she's walking out the door.
Kiyoomi asks if you could help him tidy up before he leaves. It’s more of a statement than a question, so you oblige.
You help him take off his sheets and load them into a basket to wash later. You wipe down the dresser and the desk, help sweep the floors, help him fold his clothing neatly so that his suitcase shuts securely.
When everything's done, you wipe your hands nervously on your apron and give him a curt nod, turning to leave the room.
“Stay,” He suddenly blurts, fists clenching at his sides. “I have to tell you something before I go.”
And so you turn and face him, letting your hands fall to your sides. He steps closer to you.
“Before I go,” He starts, eyes scanning your face for any emotion, but he gets nothing. You look numb.
“I don’t expect anything from you in return, but I must tell you, or else I don’t think I can live with myself. You,” He hesitates, feeling like he instead wants to turn away and save it for another day.
The curious glimmer in your eye pulls him back in.
“You have captured my heart,” Kiyoomi says breathlessly, “The entirety of my soul. I have no regrets in opening myself up to you, in letting you in, and I can say that you have made me a better man. I want to be vulnerable with you as I am now, time and time again. I want us to be one, but to be our own all at once.”
His eyes search yours frantically, “I love you.”
Your mouth drops open.
Hands shaky, you try smoothing out your dress and formulating a response, the right response, one that tells him you feel the same.
Kiyoomi begins to lean away, taking a step back, face calm. “As I’ve said, I don’t expect anything from you in return. You can leave, if you wish.”
You stay rooted still.
“Kiyoomi,” You finally squeak, voice cracking like you're on the verge of tears. The tone of it makes him stand up a little straighter, like he's worried about what he's done, but then you're beckoning him forward with your hand.
He comes in closer, approaching you like you’re injured- gentle and calm like he mustn't startle you any further. You try to lean into him, try to pull him closer, hands wrapping around his shirt and bringing him towards yourself, voice shaky as you manage to get out, “And I you.”
It’s all he needs. It’s all he needs before he’s dipping down, lips slotting against your own as you sigh out wantonly. Days and weeks and months of pent up feelings and unspoken words all pour out in one kiss, a kiss that has you stumbling backward and grasping at his shirt, his hands roaming down your back and pulling you into him, closer and closer and closer, like he is going to fuse the two of you together.
(He wants to).
It isn’t long until you find yourself pressed into his bed, both of your clothes thrown into some corner of the room, underwear torn off as he hovers above you, licking into your mouth and grinding against your cunt.
“Kiyoomi,” You whimper once he pulls away. “Please.”
He dips down again to kiss and nip at your chest, the metal of his tags stinging your skin and giving you shivers. Kiyoomi hums into your shoulder, licks a stripe up your neck before lifting himself off the bed, planting his hands on your hips. He drags you closer to him, lifting you up as he drags his cock over your warmth.
“Such a pretty little cunt,” he groans as he slips in, eyes falling shut when you immediately flutter around him. Kiyoomi almost falters, almost curls in on himself and leans atop of you again before he collects himself and starts dragging his cock in and out, hissing at the way you clamp down on him.
It’s a build up, Kiyoomi starting gentle and slow until you’re bucking up your hips and whining at him to go faster, till the only thing you can get out is a weak string of please please please.
Kiyoomi cages you beneath him again as he starts drilling into you, broken cries slipping past your lips as your hands race up and down his back, leaving light scratches that make him moan so prettily right by your ear.
He brings his hands to your thighs, pushing them up and trapping them against your chest and your eyes roll back, body falling pliant to him. He’s so close, all up in your face and humming about how wet you are for him, how fucking good you feel, how you’re made for me, doll, all for me.
His breath fans your face as he thrusts into you desperately, making the bed shake. The tags on his chain bump into your chin, clinking softly like little chimes and bringing you back time and time again as your mind spirals under the feeling of him pounding into you. Kiyoomi grunts and lifts himself up for the fastest second, taking the tags in hand and ripping the chain off his neck, metal grazing the wood floor as it slides away. His irritation with it makes you want to laugh, but the sound gets caught in your throat as his cock hits the sweetest spot in you, making your toes curl as you cry out his name.
He watches you as your hands sneak down, nimble fingers spreading apart your folds to try and get a good look at his length sliding in and out of you. Kiyoomi looks down, watches the spot where the two of you meet, watches as his dick comes out covered in slick before pushing himself back in.
“Fuck, fuck, angel, you’re so– so good, such a good girl for me.”
Your head bobbles up and down in a nod, weakly whimpering out his name, “I want to cum, please let me– let me cum all over you, Kiyoomi!”
He shudders, hand coming up to grab at your jaw. “Look at me. Look at me when you cum.”
You sob out pathetically, legs shaking and twitching as you tighten around him, gushing for what seems like hours until you fall limp, tears invading your vision. Kiyoomi murmurs praises into your cheek before planting both hands on your hips again, using you to reach his high, and you let him, let yourself be his little doll.
You feel his warm seed trickle into you, stomach fluttering at the sensation before he collapses on top of you.
Kiyoomi nestles his face into your chest for a few minutes before rolling onto his side, cupping your cheek with his big hand. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”
You nodded, trying to scoot in closer to him, albeit weakly.
“I love you, Kiyoomi.”
He smiles. He’s beautiful, you think. He opens his mouth to return the affection, your hand coming up to brush his curls away, but there’s a telltale sound at the door that alarms the both of you.
In an instant, you two are up, laughing and tripping over your own feet, Kiyoomi hustling into his slacks as you awkwardly slide your dress back on, thumping into the footboard of the bed as your mother chirps out like a bird, “I’m home!”
“Your mother,” Kiyoomi says in a hushed tone, leaning close to you as he buttons up his shirt, “Always has to go and interrupt us.”
You smile up at him cheekily, and he catches the mischievousness in your eyes.
“Just means that you must take me with you, I presume?”
You step out into the grass of the backyard, the sun already hanging in the sky since you’re a little bit late to your task. Nonetheless, you head straight towards the chicken coop and unfasten the doors, the chickens pouring out and clucking around obnoxiously, as they always have. The rest is muscle memory– throw out the old water, replace it, add in fresh food, sit with the chickens. The familiarity of it all soothes you– not that you need soothing. You simply feel in touch with your roots again.
“Good morning, Harold.” You jeer at one particular chicken, who eyes you warily. You laugh. “Now don’t be jealous, I’ll always come back to check on you.”
He gives an approving cluck.
You gather yourself and get back up, slipping off your boots on the back porch. As you approach the dutch door, you see someone already leaning onto the bottom half of it, a little bouquet in hand.
“He told me to give this to you,” Your mother swoons, holding out the bundle of flowers to you. A laugh bubbles at your lips as you observe the flowers, holding the stems together, “Aren’t these from the front yard? Such a romantic,” You joke, rolling your eyes as you make your way inside. You tuck the flowers into one of your mother’s vases to keep them safe.
“I’ll get started on breakfast,” You call out, despite it already being later in the day and, technically, lunch time would be rolling around.
“Oh no no,” You mother gasps, a sound that you had become all too familiar with when Kiyoomi was around, when she’d clutch her chest in shock.
“You rest, my dear, I’ll start working on the food.”
“Mother,” You press, “You need to go rest. That’s the exact reason why we came over here!”
“Nonsense!” She chimes, pushing you down to sit at the dining table as she pads over to the kitchen. You remain still for a few moments to appease her, but then the front door creaks open and you’re on your feet immediately.
“Hi lover,” You say almost bashfully as Kiyoomi approaches you, wiping the sweat off his forehead as he sinks down to kiss your forehead, your chin, your lips.
“Hi, my little doll,” he mutters against you before pulling away. “Did you like the flowers I got you?”
You laugh, observing the green and brown stains on his white undershirt, evidence of his hard work in the front yard. “I shouldn’t be praising a thief, seeing as you took my mother’s flowers right from her yard.”
“Oh?” He suddenly challenges, “I think this thief deserves a little praise, seeing as I successfully made your heart mine.”
You can’t help but scoff, tongue poking at your cheek with how embarrassing he is, how corny he’s become now that he’s in love.
Your mother scurries back in with two plates in hand, telling you both to Sit, sit! like dogs, and Kiyoomi looks at you with a knowing smile on his face. Always interrupting things.
As the three of you start eating, your mother points her fork accusingly at you.
“And you, my sweet girl, better eat up. You need more nutrients for when a baby is on the way.”
You choke. Kiyoomi smiles into his cup as he takes a sip.
“We’re not expecting,” You scold, stabbing your fork into your food. “You can’t just say things like that, mother—”
“How come? You never know! With the two of you in that new big home, you’ll surely want to fill in some space. You’re young! There’s no shame!”
“You’re the one who may as well fill up the space, visiting nearly every day!”
“Oh honey, I’m just excited for you—”
The bickering is all in good fun, Kiyoomi knows. He takes your hand into his underneath the table, finger brushing against the golden band that encompasses your own.
Yes, he thinks to himself, heart swelling. Perhaps it’s time to start filling up the space.
#sakusa kiyoomi#sakusa x reader#sakusa kiyoomi x reader#kiyoomi x reader#sakusa smut#sakusa kiyoomi smut#hq x reader#hq smut#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu smut#sakusa fluff
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Marry me (unless you don't want to)
Pairing: young! Coriolanus Snow x fem!Capitol!president! reader
Summary: It's been a few years since you won the election for president of Panem. Your fiancé Coryo gives you many advices and is your support most of the time... but it doesn't take much for your pre-wedding idyll to turn into living hell. Can you stop it? Or maybe power is what matters most for both you and Coriolanus...
Taglist: @uhnanix @serving-targaryen-realness @diannana @aoi-targaryen @omgsuperstarg @il0vebeingdelulu @chelseyyouraverageluigi @un06 @tallulah477 @snowspubes @hueanhdang @snowspubes @phsychobanana @blythlover
Coriolanus Snow's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist
From LYM "universum". Kind of part 3. 'Part 2' here.
It's been few years of your term as president of Panem.
A lot has happened. Tigris started her own boutique. Coriolanus became the main Gamemaker after Dr. Gaul decided to retire and devote herself to her crazy research (controlled by your spices). The presidential gardens were filled with Coriolanus's grandmother's roses, which the Snows and you personally cared for.
Oh. And you and Coryo got engaged.
The wedding was fast approaching.
You weren't one of those brides who was picky and worried about the wedding. You had the whole Snow family for that and also your parents and Clem. Your only task was to fit into the dress and arrive on time. Sometimes, when your callender was a little emptier than usual, you went with Coriolanus to alcochol and food tastings for a wedding, but the decisions were mainly made by him. And he was very happy about it... and sometimes angry.
"How can you not see any difference in the colour of these roses?"
"Sweetheart..." you start, looking at the two light pink roses in his hands. "They are both very beautiful. Maybe let's make table bouquets out of both?"
He looks at you with more indignation than when you suggested not inviting to your wedding literally ALL OF the Academy students who happened to learn there with you over the years... not only from your classes BUT WHOLE FUCKING ACADEMY. And people from the university...
"Are we supposed to make a fool of ourselves by combining such drastically different roses?"
"You make the decision, Coryo. You know you always choose what's best for us." You decide on a different tactic and approach him. You place your hands on his chest and reach for his collar, pulling him in for a passionate kiss.
He moans into your mouth, surprised by your sudden action. He tosses the roses onto the chair and grabs your waist, pulling you closer to him. You smile as he starts groping your ass and pushing you down onto your desk.
"And yet I'm not the president." He whispers as he breaks away from your lips and begins to trail kisses down your neck.
"You said yourself that I would look prettier on banknotes than you would ever do." You tease him as he takes off your jacket and blouse. He licks his lips as he sees your blood-red, lacy bra.
"I lied to get under your dress." He replies smoothly, reaching for the zipper of your pants. "If I had known you were going to make it harder for me to have what's mine with those horrible things, I would have tried harder to win."
"Hey! Don't insult your cousin's work." You say, punching his shoulder. Suddenly, you realise that he's wearing a lot more clothes than you. You don't like it one bit. Especially since he had already ripped of your panties and started teasing with your pussy.
"And don't mention her when I'm preparing you for myself, Madam President. Which reminds me that… we haven't talked about our sournames after marriage yet." You only manage to take off his jacket and shirt before you freeze in surprise at his words. He undoes his belt and takes off his pants himself, freeing his hard length for your gaze.
"Now?" You moan as he slowly enters you. You freeze for a moment, getting used to the feeling of each other. You completely forgot about the conversation just now. Coryo rests his forehead against yours, keeping his hand intertwined with the back of your head, making sure you don't bang it against the desk too much. You open your eyes, and when you meet his icy blue irises, he starts thrusting into you.
You dig your nails into his back, pressing his chest against yours as he pushes into you, leaving hickeys on your collarbone at the same time. You've never been more proud (and pleased) of his multitasking.
"Now is as good as any time. After all, maybe we're creating our heir right now. It would be good to know what his or her last name will be." You would laugh at that, but he pushes extra hard into you and into your most sensitive spot, making you moan.
"I don't want to destroy your dreams, fantasies, or discriminate against your strange kink, but I'm on contraceptive, so you'll have to wait, sweetheart." You manage to mutter out, gasping between his thrusts. You close your eyes, biting your lip as you melt into the feeling of him inside you. His other hand, which he had on your waist for a better angle, wraps around your neck. He squeezes gently, making you meet his gaze again.
"Your attempt to avoid answering my question is sweet, but you know that soon we both won't be able to string a sentence together, so just answer me, my little diamond. How do you want our future, little gamestones to be called? Snow? Y/L/N? Y/L/N-Snow? Or Snow-Y/L/N?" Each surname suggestion is preceded by a strong, quick push that you feel with your whole body. You are trembling under him as he fuckes a mind out of you right on your president's desk.
But you have enough common sense to know that you need to give him a piece of… something. If you don't want his lust for power to come back to the surface, you have to give him some power over your relationship… after all, you much prefer his lust for you.
"Snow…" You moan quietly, deciding you can give up your last name if he could give up the function of president for you… besides, you can always divorce him and come back to your surname. At least that's what you think. Although while being under him, when he pushes widly into you, you are not exactly sure about that.
"I didn't hear you. Can you repeat?" He teases you with a smirk. You would never admit that, but it makes him even more handsome while he is pounding into you and groaning like a madman.
"Snow!" Your moan echoes throughout the office, along with the sound of your wet bodies slapping against each other.
"What was that?" You swear he would have chuckled if he could... or maybe he even tried to, but the sensations he was giving you two made it turn into a moan that he tried to cover up with a growl.
"SNOW!" You scream, and a tear rolls down your cheek at how wonderful he makes you feel.
Coryo can't help but lean in and lick it off of your cheek, starting from the corner of your eyes and ending at your throat, where he leaves a hickey. You saw how pleased he was with this. How delighted he was with snow landing on top again...
Neither of you can hold back your urges anymore.
The sound of the door opening to your office brings you out of your thoughts. You'd blush a little if someone other than your fiancé came to you while you were reminiscing about one of your fucking sessions at your office.
"Coryo? What are you doing here, sweetheart?" You ask with a smile, getting up from the desk and walking over to him.
You were both pleased and surprised that he came to you. Usually, at this time, you two were in your offices working. You didn't have a lunch date with him until two hours later… he also never came to fuck you at high noon. No matter how horny he was…
The click of your high heels echoes around the office. You're about to lean in and try to kiss your ridiculously handsome fiancé on his cheek, but instead he pulls away and gives you one of his cold glares.
You frown at him in surprise. He never refused your acts of tenderness. You had such a rare opportunity to show it to him that he literally took everything you gave him. That's why you were so surprised when he cleared his throat and moved away from you instead. He walked over to your desk and looked at the papers you left there with feigned curiosity.
"I was passing by and decided to visit my beloved Madam President. I wonder... do you have something to tell me, my darling? Any new plans? Ideas?"
His question didn't usually arouse any suspicion in you. He often asked about how things were going and what you were working at. But today... today he was different. More calm and serene. He acted like he was wearing a mask of indifference in order to not make you suspicious. Unfortunately for him, or both of you, you knew him too damn well to let slip away even the slightest changes in his behaviour.
"I... I don't think I can recall anything you don't know about." You say this after a moment of thought, trying to figure out what could be the reason for his strange treatment.
"Really?" He asks with a mocking smile and puts his hands in his pockets. He stands in front of the window and stares at the Capitol, having his back at you. You don't like his pretentious and rude attitude. You walk up to him, and by the way his muscles are tensing, you know he's been watching your reflection in the window.
"Can you talk to me? Please? Like normal people do."
You sigh when you get no response from him. You take a step towards him, standing directly behind him, and put your hand in his pants pocket, taking his hand in yours. You notice that he had them clenched into fists, his nails almost digging into the inner skin of his palm to the blood.
"Did something happen? Because if something has happened, then we can talk about it." You say, resting your cheek on his back, letting him hide his expression and any emotions he was feeling from you. You place a small kiss on his neck, at the base of his hair follicles, but instead of calming him down, it enrages him even more.
He pulls your hand from his pocket and pushes it away. He walks away from you madly, walking around your desk, putting more distance (and objects) between you.
"Do you want to talk? Fine. Let's talk. Maybe about your latest project, huh? Cancelling the Hunger Games..." The silence in the room after his words increases the tension between you even more.
"Coryo..." You start to speak, your voice sweet and guilty, knowing you screwed up.
"DO NOT call me that! When did you want to tell me? At our wedding? 'Sweetheart, I have a great gift for you.'" He mocks you, pacing nervously around the room in front of your desk. You slowly walk around it, leaning against the desk as you look at him with your arms crossed.
"I admit, I should have done it earlier…"
"Don't you say?!" He cuts you off with an incredulous scream, rage seething from him like never before. And this time he actually had a reason to be mad at you... but it wasn't like you did it out of spite. You only wanted what was best for Panem. For all your people. With no exceptions. "Do you know how much I sacrificed for you?! WHAT am I willing to do for you, at the slightest damned word of yours?! I put up with your becoming president. I settled for the job of gamemaker, and now you want to take it away from me? What's next?! You know... you're going to destroy this fucking country by giving these district underdogs a freedom they don't deserve!"
"Don't you think that's how it should be? How the hell are they different from us?! How were Sejanus or Lucy Gray different…"
"DON'T EVEN FUCKING MENTION THEM!" His scream terrifies and silences you at the same time. Seeing the fear in your eyes caused a kind of strange pain in him he had never felt before—not since his time in District 12. His heart clenched as he saw you flinch. He didn't want you to be afraid of him. Not you. He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw and fists. He bit his tongue, taking deep breaths as he tried to calm down before speaking again. "We need the Hunger Games. Otherwise, the districts will turn against us again."
He tries to explain his point of view to you and change your mind. He forces himself to look into your eyes again. Coriolanus calms down, sighing with relief, when he sees that you're no longer looking at him like a scared prey.
"How long do you think it will take for them to actually rebel? How long will the Capitol be able to murder 23 innocent children every year without a hint of rebellion? 30 Games? 50? 64?" You huff, disagreeing with his sick obsession with the Games.
"By working them to death they will not be able to think about rebellion. They will be guided only by the desire to survive and to fill their stomachs. There is no possibility of any rebellion."
"Hope dies last. If I were them, I would rather die fighting for my rights as a free human being than in the arena for the joy of sick people like Dr. Gaul and…" You bite your tongue at the last moment before you say the words that can't be taken back. But Coryo is too smart not to get what you mean.
"And who? C'mon. Finish." He asks angrily, looking at you defiantly. You clench your fists and look away from him, staring at the window overlooking the centre of the Capitol.
"Get out of my office." You say it in a tone devoid of any emotion, even though you're internally shaking hysterically.
This wasn't supposed to look like this. You had the whole plan ready, but of course Coriolanus wouldn't be himself if he didn't do something you didn't even think he could do.
You could have predicted that his spies would quickly inform him of your plans... you didn't expect it would happen the very next day after you submitted the draft for reading by your lawyers, the Prime Minister, and ministers.
"As you wish, Madam President. Don't forget about your wedding dress fitting with Tigris. Unless you don't want to marry a mad psychopath like me." He says coldly and walks towards the exit.
"Coryo..." He slams the door loudly behind him, leaving you alone in your office.
You shiver, rubbing your arms with your hands. You sit back at your desk and try to go back to the documents and reports you were looking through before he stormed into your office. You take the pen in your hand, but refrain from taking any further notes or comments. Your engagement ring is gleaming in the lamplight, mockingly reminding you that this man should be your support, not your opponent.
You've never felt so cold, empty, and alien there as you do now. And you involuntarily wonder if your marriage with Coryo will be like this. The eternal fight over who is right and who among you cares more about the Panem...
"You don't look like the happiest future bride on earth. You're very quiet today. Has something happened?" Tigris' gentle question snapped you out of your thoughts.
You stood on the podium in her boutique in the private room where she created most of her designs. You wore your snow-white wedding dress, sewn by Tigris with her own hands. The blonde made a few more adjustments, perfecting it with each of your visits. You were supposed to look like a fucking queen. Clemensia sat on the couch across from the two of you and went through the various documents, reading the most important parts to you.
"Let's just say that…. Coryo and I have had… quieter days lately."
"I told you so." Clem says, looking through the papers sent to you by lawyers and ministers. "Coriolanus is an asshole. Besides, you hurt his alpha male pride. If this wedding is to take place at all, you either have to fuck him well and get pregnant or give up on your idea and leave him as a Gamemaker."
"Clemensia!" You hiss, both outraged by her words and the fact that Tigris accidentally stuck a pin into your thigh, shocked by the news.
"What? Am I not right? I worked with him for years, even before you started dating. I listened for hours about you and how perfect you were before he plucked up the courage to make a move. To be honest, I miss this Coryo."
"Wait... you want to fire him?" Tigris finally recovers from the shock and asks, standing up and shifting her gaze between you and Clemensia.
"No. Well… not exactly… I have some ideas, changes that do not require the position of a Gamemaker to exist anymore." You tell her, not revealing your entire plan.
You still weren't sure about your decision, but... wasn't this what you wanted to do all along?
You thoughtfully play with Sejanus' bracelet—another reason for your many arguments with Coriolanus. Your friend would definitely be cheering you on. He also considered the Games to be unnecessary barbarism. There certainly needs to be more people in the Capitol who are thinking again. More people like you and Sejanus.
"And he is mad?"
"Mad? That's an serious understatement." You mumble, letting go of the bracelet. You clear your throat, successfully holding back tears. You wish he were here to tell you what to do next. He gave some hint, anything.
"If you get pregnant, it won't be only to save your engagement; it will also warm up your image. The creation of a presidential family would overshadow the revolutions and changes you are planning to make. Think about it."
"I can also make him a prime minister to 'save my engagement', so you better shut up if you don't want to be just one of the ministers, Dovecote." You snap at her, knowing that the last thing you need right now is to carry Snow and Y/L/N's heir. You already have enough problems and confusion in your head.
"Yes, Madam President." She snorts, going back to the papers. You roll your eyes at her as she gives you a smirk. Sejanus may have been taken away from you, but at least you got Clem. It was good to have someone to rely on.
"Just talk to him."
"What?" You ask Tigris, torn from your thoughts about Sejanus.
"Talk to him. Explain why you are doing what you are doing." She says it as if it's just that easy. As if Coriolanus Snow could be convinced to do anything.
"I've tried. But he didn't listen to me. He's too stubborn to see what I want to do. And all I want is to guarantee the best future for Panem and all the people. Not just the Capitol's citizens."
"And if anyone can change his mind, then it is you. He… he is different. Because of you. You are showing him that all he believes in and all the things he learned under Dr. Gaul's eye weren't entirely true. You are bringing his good side back to life. I… I started lately to see my cousin instead of the cold version of his father he became. Just… please talk to him. Show him that he can be good."
Silence falls between you; even Clem has stopped turning the pages of paper. You both stare at Tigirs, remembering Coryo before the Hunger Games... before Lucy Gray and Dr. Gaul.
"You, Snows, and your stupid ability to use pretty words to manipulate people into doing what you want will be the reason for my end." You sigh, realising that you have to cancel the rest of your meetings and go to his place.
"Nothing bad will happen as long as our intentions are pure. Besides, you'll be one of us soon. You will receive this gift with a wedding ring." She says with a smile as she finishes the final touches, she stands in front of you and looks at you carefully, her eyes brightening and her smile widening. She beams with pride and delight. "For me, you look breath-taking. What do you think? Do you like it?"
"It's... amazing. Perfect. If only the groom was also like that, then I wouldn't have to worry about my wedding at all." You say, looking at yourself in the mirror, thinking about what you will say to him to appease him somehow or what position to promise him.
"You will be fine. Coryo won't be mad at you for long. He loves you. Trully. He will do everything for you."
"Even he has his boundaries. I just hope I didn't push him too far this time." You respond pessimistically to Tigris' assurances.
"You should go and talk to him before Dr. Gaul finds out about your quarrel and catches him. This woman is just waiting for the perfect opportunity to bring you down, and turning Coriolanus against you would greatly help her in this plan. Also, great dress, Tigris. She looks amazing. She will look wonderful in wedding photos. Panem will go crazy with delight."
Clem was right. People would love it. The only question is whether what was between you and Coryo really was genuine love or whether it turned into part of your presidential public image...
Sejanus' bracelet and Coriolanus' engagement ring have never weighed so heavily on your wrist and finger as they do now.
You've only been nervous a few times in your life.
During the university entrance exam, while defending your master's, bachelor's, and doctoral theses, and now, going to your fiancé's apartment with wine and a cake from the pastry shop he loved (the bastard wouldn't admit it to anyone, but you noticed how quickly these cakes disappeared from his plate.)
You walk past the avox and the security guards, leaving your security outside, as you unlock the door to his apartment with trembling hands.
"Coryo?!" You shout, placing your 'gifts' on the table near the front door and hanging up your coat. When you don't get an answer, you grab your things and go deeper into the apartment. "I know you're here! Don't play hide and seek and come here; I just want to talk!"
You say it loudly as you enter the living room. Putting aside the wine and cookies, a photo on the coffee table catches your eye. You take the photo frame and smile slightly as you see the photo from your engagement.
You can't help but run your finger tenderly over the photo, memories of that evening coming to your mind involuntarily.
"Where's your jacket?" Coriolanus asks you, covering you in his red one as you step out into the cool air. You needed a break from people and the loud party you threw at the presidential palace to celebrate the upcoming Christmas. Your boyfriend accompanied you faithfully, taking you out to the gardens of your grand mansion.
"I didn't wear it. Tigirs made it for me, but it didn't match the dress. Besides, I'm at home. Why would I need a jacket or a coat?"
"Who do you think told her to sew it? She spent an hour complaining that she was already giving you back the dress and that whatever she made for you wouldn't match it perfectly now. Cover yourself up. I don't want you to catch a cold; this week will be very intense anyway. Everyone goes crazy before Christmas. Dr. Gaul started to experiment with a kind of poison made from the venom of some specific genetically modified vipers that breed in snow heaps and are able to survive extreme conditions." He grumbles, standing in front of you and buttoning up a jacket up to your neck.
You smile and can't help but lean forward and kiss him sweetly. He hums against your lips, tangling his hand in your hair and pulling you closer to him. After a moment, he pulls away, content to welcome your rosy cheeks, and pulls you closer to him to make sure the heat doesn't escape from your body so quickly as you stroll lazily through the gardens.
"I see she's giving you great ideas for the winter edition of The Hunger Games, Mr. Gamemaker." You tease him with a smirk, at which he rolls his eyes and holds you tighter against him.
"I would prefer it if she stopped. The games are already mine. She should stay in her lab and out of my business."
"You don't get along anymore? I tought that she loved you. And you were delighted with her attention." You ask, curious about his obvious reluctance and the cold way he spoke about her.
"We have one… controversial issue." He answers evasively, looking at the roses his grandmother planted in the greenhouse you were passing by. You frown, watching him carefully as you question him.
"That is?"
"You." He answers briefly, not bothering to come up with any lies. He knows very well that sooner or later you will find out about... his soured relationship with Dr. Gaul.
"Oh... me?" You asked him, surprised. He doesn't look you in the eyes, but you can see from the way his jaw clenches at the memory of the conversation that led to their conflict that it was... quite serious. You didn't expect that Coriolanus would argue with Gaul about YOU.
"Don't make those innocent eyes. You know exactly what I'm talking about." He says this, looking at you briefly. He turns into an alley, leading you two to the deeper parts of the gardens where only your gardeners went... "Gaul thinks you're an incompetent child who doesn't know anything about government or how to keep people in line. That you will plunge this country within a few years, and your rule will lead to a rebellion, which the Capitol will lose in a very bloody and painful way. To which I disagreed... quite strongly, which she didn't like, so she called me your faithful errand dog, waiting for leftovers from your table. I think you can guess how I reacted."
"That old madwoman should be glad I left her alone in her lab. Even though I have reasons to send her to prison." You are furious about the news he told you. You stop, making him turn to fully look at you. He can't help but smile in amusement when he sees how cute you look when you're mad at someone other than him. This is definitely a nice change for him. "You're not some fucking dog or lesser man, Coryo. We are partners. Equal ones. I hope you know that. And maybe Dr. Gaul won't live long enough to see me... us, leading Panem to greatness, but it doesn't change that people will be better under our rules. I promised myself we would never suffer from hunger again. Not any citizen of the Capitol and districts."
"Districts?" He asks, raising an eyebrow.
"They are people too." You reply, placing your hands in his jacket pockets to warm yourself up a bit. Seeing this, he pulls you towards him and leads you towards the gazebo. It should protect you from the wind enough to make you warm again.
"And they were the reason for our suffering."
"True. But people change. And now we are the reason for their suffering. So what makes us different? Apart from nice clothes and well-groomed skin?" You answer after a moment of silence.
"You talk like Sejanus." He sighs, unable to stop himself from comparing your utopian visions of harmonious life with the Districts to Plinth's desires.
"He was a good man. And a friend." You say it quietly, remembering your friend fondly. You mindlessly play with the bracelet he gave you, which catches Coriolanus' attention. He looks at this scrap of jewellery with a hateful look, jealous that you value some stupid item so much.
"Not like me, right?" He asks, laughing bitterly and shaking his head. You frown and shift your confused gaze towards him.
"What do you mean?"
"Nothing." He tries to back away, but your inquisitive gaze and the anger bubbling within him make him throw away his common sense and let his jealousy and resentment flow out. "He will always be a saint in your eyes, right? He died a martyr. He wanted to help the districts. Does that make me an executioner in your eyes? A sinner maybe?"
"No. I'm not comparing you to him. You are from two different worlds. He was a boy from the district, and he saw these people for what they were. Humans. Just wanting what they should have. Equality. And you... you are from the Capitol. You saw the cruelty of the rebellion and the fighting. Your father, mother, and sister died. You lost... a big part of yourself at a very young age. With them. And you have a right to feel resentment, anger, and hatred towards the people of the district, but imagine that somewhere there lives a man who went through similar things, but at the hands of people from the Capitol. Are you surprised that they are distrustful? That they see us as a threat? That they want to get rid of us and finally have their freedom? That they don't want to be threatened with the possibility of death in the Hunger Games? Wouldn't you object? Wouldn't you rebel?"
"It doesn't matter. We won't reconcile. Our wounds are too deep, and our resentments are too fresh. Do you think the families who lost loved ones will accept these... people from the district as equals? That we will create one happy, wonderful country, as our naive Sejanus wanted, against whom the people he helped turned? You don't know what the people of the district are like. They are treacherous dogs, even worse than me. You don't know when they will decide to drop their façade of kindness and give you a fatal bite like the most venomous snake."
"You... you have right. I don't know. Maybe they are like that, or maybe not. But deepening these wounds will do no good, Coryo." He huffs, shaking his head, when he hears his nickname coming out of your lips.
"Coryo... how can you say that to me when all I can see in your eyes is how you despise me for sending him to death? You abhor hypocrisy, but here you are, still holding a grudge against me, aren't you?"
"No. Neither of us is crystal clear. And maybe you want to tell yourself that you're a selfish asshole who doesn't feel anything, but I know... I see how he haunts you. And she. You're not a monster, Coryo. No matter how much you want to make other people and maybe even yourself believe in it. You are not an enforcer or a tyrant. Gaul wants you to be. She wants to make you as cold and uncaring as her. But it's not you. And do you know how I know this?"
"How?" He asks mockingly, trying to keep up his indifferent façade. And maybe he can lie to everyone around him, but not to you. Not when you've known him for so many years, almost better than yourself.
"Because you love me. And as long as you are able to love someone more than you love yourself, then you cannot be a monster." You say this, looking into his eyes.
He blinks a few times and turns his head, shifting his gaze to the vines wrapping around the columns of the gazebo. You watch him as he swallows and clears his throat, bringing his voice down to a flat tone, before he looks at you again.
"And how are you so sure that I'm doing this? That I love you more than anything?"
"Well, starting with you not sabotaging my presidency, which you could do very easily, and ending with this." You say calmly as you fish a small, velvety box out of the pocket of his jacket you're waering and open it, revealing a beautiful, breathtaking engagement ring to the both of you.
You both remain silent. He looks at the ring in shock, as if you were the one proposing to him, while you study the expression on his face, only more reassuring yourself of the decision you made the moment your fingertips felt the velvet box in his jacket's pocket.
"That's why I wanted you to have your own jacket..." He sighs, taking the ring from you and playing with the small box. "I had a whole plan ready, but as usual, you come in and ruin everything. And I certainly didn't want to ask you this question the same night when we were discussing my questionable morals."
"You've got some. Microscopic, but still." He laughs at this, which makes you smile involuntarily.
His icy blue irises look at you with something so... warm and tender, so unlike Coriolanus, who hangs out with the crowd of important people in the Capitol, and so like your dear Coryo, that you almost melt in front of him.
You stick out your hand (the one without the Sejanus' bracelet), which he takes without hesitation. He strokes the back of your hand gently with his thumb, thinking hard about something before looking back at you.
"You sure? Because there is no turning back from there. In the eyes of the Capitol, it's as if we've already exchanged wedding rings."
"That's actually very sweet and artificial, you know? You are trying to be a gentleman while we both know damn well that all you want is to put that ring on my finger and make me finally yours." You say it playfully, smiling widely.
"Y/N. I need an answer." He responds in the same calm tone as before, but you can see from the slight shaking in his hands that this is also a poignant moment for him in his own way. Coriolanus Snow and feelings. To you. The world went mad... maybe it already did on the day you became president instead of him.
"And I need a question." You tease him, and he sighs in irritation, but he can't stop the smirk forming on his lips.
However, he suddenly becomes serious, and instead of continuing your game, he takes the ring out of the box, strokes gently your palm and ring finger, and asks, still looking into your eyes with an unexpected tenderness.
"Y/N Y/L/N... will you take me as I am and agree to marry me?"
"Now this is a bit of a trick question." You joke after swallowing, trying your best to hold back the tears that are coming with the question you would never expect him to ask you.
"Y/N..."
"Yes. Yes, I will marry you, Coriolanus Snow." You interrupt him. Before he can complain and lecture you for not respecting the big step you're taking for your future, you cup his cheeks with your hands and pull him in for a kiss.
The photo shows this moment. One of the paparazzi took it after sneaking past your security and following you two into the gardens. It shows you and Coryo kissing, holding each other close in an embrace, as you two celebrate your engagement. The ring that he had somehow managed to place on your finger before you hungrily pressed your lips against his was glowing in the moonlight and looked perfect in the photo.
You smile fondly, filled with nostalgia.
"I accept only wrotten apology." Coriolanus' voice brought you out of your thoughts. You set the photo down on the coffee table and turned to face him. He looked impeccable as always. The only thing that would have betrayed his earlier nervous and angry state was his slightly ruffled hair and the lack of a tie. The first buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned, giving you a perfect view of his Adam's apple, neck, and part of his collarbone.
"Me too." You finally say, keeping your mind from wandering to the dirty memories you had of him.
"You too?" He asks, surprised, crossing his arms. You lift your chin slightly, looking at him defiantly, and answer in a calm but firm voice.
"I agree. I did a bad thing. I should have spoken to you before making any documents or plans. But I am not the only guilty one here. You were spying on me. You sent your men after me to watch my every step." You accuse him in a resentful tone of voice. To which he just laughs mockingly, ignoring your furious look.
"Please... as if you didn't have your men or women watching my back and telling you about everything I do."
"And how am I supposed to trust you?! You killed 3 people or maybe even more, that's not the thing that's simply can be forgotten." You explode, unable to control your emotions anymore. His gaze darkens as well, and his eyes glow, sharing your fiery fury.
"And how am I supposed to trust you that you don't just set all of the Panem on fire by your orders?! I wanted to be president all my life. You wanted it only for several months." He stops, looks at something in your hand, and laughs bitterly. You curse internally when you see his eyes fall on Sejan's bracelet. He grabs your wrist and turns the bracelet in his hand before his icy irises shift back to you, making you shiver. "As I see, good old Sejanus is ruining my life even from beyond the grave. Why are you wearing it again? Are you feeling remorseful, darling? The anniversary of the death of that district scumbag is coming up, and you magically start to remember that I have no conscience? That you can't trust me? That's amazing how hypocritical you can be. If I were you and wore any jewellery from Lucy Gray, especially after I promised you I wouldn't do it again like you did after our engagement, you would go mad, suspicious, and probably demand from me to destroy it. But you can do everything you want, won't you, Madame President?"
"So we don't trust each other. Perfect future marriage." You sneer fiercely, pulling your hand from his strong grip as he presses your buttons precisely.
"Don't bring our engagement into this. The problem is what you do as president, not us."
"Why shouldn't I? Because at home you are my Coryo and outside the walls of your apartament you are Coriolanus?" You mock him, unconsciously taking a step towards him. He accepts your challenge and equally furiously invades your personal space as you stare at each other defiantly.
"You still think I am like a fucking coin?! That I have two sides—one for my family and the other to show for our people?"
"I AM PRESIDENT. Not you. They are MINE pepople, not ours!"
You regret your words as soon as they leave your mouth. For a moment, you think he's going to slap you; you wouldn't be surprised if he did. But he didn't. He takes a step back and closes his eyes, breathing deeply and trying to calm down. You take a step towards him and reach for him, but the stern look in his icy eyes stops you.
"If that's what you say, Madam President. But if I were you, I would consider which one you love—who I am or who I was. Because if it's the latter... then maybe we shouldn't get married. Although I think you always preferred Sejanus. What a pity that the worms have already eaten his corpse. You would be worth each other."
You freeze at his words. A loud bang on the door wakes you from your stupor, making you flinch. You sigh and run a hand through your hair. Sejanus' bracelet gets caught in them. You curse and somehow untangle it from your hair. You play with it in your hand for a moment.
"Coryo..." You start, hoping he hears you, and he leaves.
When there is no response from your fiancé, he walks to his bedroom door, and you knock once and remove the bracelet from your wrist.
"Coryo, I am sorry!" You try, but once again, you are only met with silence.
Anger begins to build within you again. Because how can you talk to him normally and apologise to him when he locks himself in a room like a rebellious teenager? You slam your hand on his door in frustration, letting out an angry scream.
"FINE! BE A BRAT! Call me when your period will end, Snow!"
You throw the bracelet on the floor in front of his door and quickly walk out of the apartment, forgetting to grab your coat. You avoid the avox, security, and all the other annoying people and practically run to your car. You stop at the front desk to tell Clem to cancel all your appointments for today and tomorrow morning. You get in your car, wanting only to drown your sorrows in wine and the hot tub in your presidential palace. You could take some time off from time to time. After all, you have already been the worst president of all time in the eyes of your man.
"Smile!" The photographer says this before the spotlight blinds you. Coriolanus's arm wraps tighter around your waist—perfect for the photo—and so you can feel him tightening around you in a little painful way, so it's hard for you to breathe. You feel like a snake or gorset were around you. "Perfect! Maybe you can kiss now?"
You don't have to turn around to know Coriolanus has that smug, cocky smirk on his face.
You shouldn't be here with him. But your wedding rehearsal couldn't be postponed due to your argument, so instead you dressed up as best as you could so he could see what he had missed during these weeks of silent war between you.
But for now, he was the one having the time of his life, watching you get more and more irritated with his closeness to you. He could notice it even behind your perfect fake smile.
You gasp softly in surprise as he pulls you in for a passionate kiss. If you had an audience, they would surely gasp with delight, judging by how quickly the light flashed and how many photos the photographer took of both of you before you stepped away from Coriolanus.
"Great! Thank you very much. That's all from my side, unless you want another photo, Mr. and Mrs. President?" You'd roll your eyes if you could. Not married yet, and he already has your title.
"That's enough for now. Thank you, Colin." Coriolanus replied for the two of you.
He puts his hand on your shoulders and pulls you into his side. You'd elbow him in the ribs, but you decide to hold back until the photographer leaves you alone.
"Is something wrong, honey?" He asks in a sweet, artificially concerned tone of voice as the photographer gathers his things.
"Not at all, sweetheart." You reply with a smile that disappears from your face as quickly as the door closes behind Colin. You push his hands off of you and look at him, furious. "Did you have to? I'm sure they'll print THIS photo on the entire front page of the newspaper."
He just shrugs and grabs a strand of your hair, smoothing it out.
"I do not see any problem. We're getting married, after all. Unless you're planning something else behind my back that I don't know about? Then this photo might make you look like a heartless bitch after our breakup."
"We both know it's better to be a widow than a whore." Your little threat is met with a mocking laugh from him. He shakes his head in amusement and leans towards you. You tense up, feeling his breath on your cheek as he whispers in your ear.
"Do you wish me dead? You pick up on my habits pretty quickly, Madam President." He pulls away and winks at you, clearly seeing how his closeness has affected you. His hand trails lazily from your neck, over your collarbones, down the side of your breast, and down your waist, until it settles on your hip. You shiver, feeling his electric touch through your clothes. "Come on, honey. Let's get back to the guests before they drink all our supplies, and we won't have anything good left for our real wedding."
Before you can say anything, he tightens his grip and pulls you closer to him. You both leave the room and return to the ballroom in the presidential palace.
You may be angry at each other, and there's a festering resentment between you, but in a strange way, his presence and his hand on your waist calm you down in a crowd of people. He could be a great foil when he stayed silent and didn't try to convince you of his views.
Your thoughts involuntarily turn to what your spies have told you. Coriolanus has been doing some district travel lately. They didn't know for what purpose. He disappeared for several hours in different houses. He rarely stayed there overnight, usually boarding the train right away and returning to the Capitol. You didn't like it. Even more so, your first thought was that he was with HER.
You don't know what was worse. The fact that maybe he was cheating on you, the fact that your first thought was that he wasn't plotting against you but that he had reconciled with his songbird and was spending time with her in different neighbourhoods, or the fact that you felt immense jealousy and rage at the thought that someone else touched your fiancé besides you. And it wasn't even anger at him. It was at Lucy Gray.
Pathetic, how you could let him become such an important part of you, how he slipped back and nested in your heart, poisoning it with sweet words just to regain your affection and trust. And then he attacked you every day, testing your limits and seeing how far he could go in his plotting to keep you from paying attention to him.
He was like a snake. But he was your snake. And you wanted to live in the naive belief that maybe you could tame him, just like Dr. Gaul did with her own snakes.
You look at him as he smiles, showing off a row of his pearly snow teeth as he talks to some minister of yours. You don't pay too much attention to the conversations and people around you, letting him take over. You don't miss how some of the Capitol's most important figures call him Mr. President. You ignore it. For now, you have something completely different on your mind. Or rather, someone...
"Y/N? What's wrong with you?" Coriolanus' question brings you out of your thoughts about his possible affair. You still wonder if they could really get back together. After all, Lucy Gray is alive thanks to him, and he followed her to District 12. You flinch, feeling his hands on your shoulder and one caressing the side of your neck as he gently forces you to look into his eyes. You can really see genuine concern and anxiety in them. Does he start to suspect that you know that he can... "Look at me, diamond. I'm really starting to worry now. What's going on?"
You don't have time to answer him, even if you wanted to. Festus staggers onto the stage, and you already know that this is a harbinger of disaster.
Coriolanus stands next to you reluctantly, clearly preferring to finish the conversation rather than listen to your former academy colleague make a toast.
"Hello everyone. Please give me a little attention. I've known our presidential couple since we started the Academy, and to be honest, I never thought that someone like Y/N would actually end up with our Coriolanus, but as you can see, fate likes to be funny and do ridiculous things. Nevertheless, I'd like to make a toast! A toast to Y/N! Always the second love, never the first. I hope you know what you are doing by marrying this narcissist asshole, Madam President."
Surprisingly, the crowd sees this as a joke and is not outraged by it. After all, in public opinion, you were a perfect couple, and Coriolanus was staring at you with the eyes of a lovesick puppy.
But you took it completely differently. And this supposedly funny toast from Festus only deepened your doubts. Judging by the way Coryo tensed up, he noticed how it affected you.
"Excuse me for a moment." You say this, feeling yourself getting more and more short of breath. You don't bother listening to what he says back. All you can think about now is getting out of there as quickly as possible before you start crying.
Fortunately, Coriolanus doesn't follow you. Out of the corner of your eye, you see him furiously approaching the drunken Festus. You don't give the two a second thought as you run to the guest bathroom. You close the door behind you and rest your hands on the sink.
You hyperventilate, trying not to think about how painfully true Festus' words were.
Coriolanus had only two true loves, for which he was willing to sacrifice himself completely.
Power and Lucy Gray.
He devoted his entire life to one thing: trying to be the best in the Academy, the best in the eyes of Dr. Gaul, the best in the University, the best in the eyes of the Capitol, a gamemaker, and the future president—a position you took away from him.
And for Lucy, Gray gave up his dreams. Damn, you know he would fucking run away with her, sacrificing his entire life, if these two were able to trust each other and love each other despite their flaws and differences.
So how could you ever compete with that? When he never put you first, when he never cared about you that much to make any sacrifices for you, how long could you fool yourself into thinking that he loved you when clearly everything he did was to become president?
People already called him that. In a few years after your wedding, who knows how he will manipulate them? How will he manipulate you and everyone around you? That he won't declare himself president and remove you from your place, making you his First Lady, just as he always wanted?
No. He didn't love you. Festus was right. You would always be the other one. It doesn't matter whether his songbird or lust for power are on his pedestal.
You shiver when, in the middle of your sobs, someone hugs you tightly and presses you against a hard, muscled chest.
"Shhh. All right. I'm going to kill that son of a bitch. He will pay for your tears... just... please stop. You know it's not true; you know he lied, that it was his drunken gibberish, and he doesn't know what he's talking about, right? Y/N, you know that you are my one and only, my chosen one, my destiny, right? That it was always you? At every moment, even the darkest? Y/N?"
You cling to him, frantically grabbing at his shirt. He places his hand on your head and presses you against him, feeling you shake and struggle to catch your breath between your cries. He strokes your hair tenderly and places kisses on your temple and forehead, never letting go of you as he only tightens his embrace.
He doesn't say anything anymore. He knows that it doesn't make sense that you just need to let out the emotions of the whole month and that you just need him close to you. And maybe his reaction is not appropriate, but he warms up internally at the thought that it is HIM that you cling to in your most difficult times, that you seek his comfort even when you are in great conflict with each other. And somehow he forgets that you plan to take away his role as Gamemaker and that you plan to take down the Hunger Games behind his back.
"You broke the door." You finally say when you calm down, not moving away from him just yet.
"I heard you crying. My peacekeeper's instinct took over." You'd laugh at this if you were in better condition. All you can do is breathe in the faint scent of his perfume and the white rose he has pinned to his jacket.
"You were a peacekeeper only for one summer." You mumble, breathing steadily. You slowly started to calm down, enough that you were no longer in danger of shedding any more tears.
You pull away from him, which he reluctantly allows you to do. You take the paper and wipe the tears from your face, checking yourself in the mirror. Out of the corner of your eye, you see that his shirt is black with your mascara and smeared with makeup that you left behind as you buried your face into his chest.
"And without you by my side, it felt like years." You catch his gaze in the mirror as he looks at you carefully. You had no idea why you reacted like that or why you fell straight into his arms and let him hold you. You felt stupid that he saw you in such a... moment of vulnerability.
"You had Lucy Gray. Maybe you still have her?" You ask, turning to face him.
You don't know what's on his face more—surprise or anger—but you definitely know that he doesn't like your gentle accusations. He walks towards you, making you take a step back and hit the sink behind you with your hips.
"No. Don't let that drunkard convince you that there's something more important to me than you. And definitely not that district bitch." He says this, placing his hands on your shoulders. His gaze is so intensely focused on your eyes that it makes you feel uncomfortable. Something like doubt begins to bloom in your chest, but Festus' words are still fresh in your mind.
Always the second love, never the first.
In your eyes, he's lying. He says sweet words to calm your guard down. He may not have loved Lucy Gray, but he didn't love you either. Only one thing mattered to him. Power. Maybe it's finally time to stop fooling yourself into thinking that he can be different?
"I don't believe you. And the problem is, I don't think I ever will again, Coriolanus. I thought that we... that we could be like we were before, but maybe you're right. Maybe I only love you for who you were. Maybe I am a hypocrite. But I want to marry someone for whom I will be most important. I want to marry someone who can sacrifice everything for me. And maybe I'm asking too much; maybe I'm fucking selfish—I don't care. But I don't want to marry someone to whom I mean less than the whole world."
You say all this with tears in your eyes. You don't feel like pretending to him that you don't care or that you're strong. You've been like this for far too long. Somehow, you manage to push past him and head towards the exit.
"Y/N..." You ignore his soft calls and close the door behind you.
You're not coming back to the party. You don't feel strong enough to go back there and pretend that everything is fine, that your heart is not broken, that you are not devastated, and that you don't know what to do next, neither with Coryo nor with Panem. You go straight to the exit of the mansion. You nod to your driver and get in the car with him, giving him the address of Clem's apartment.
You will call her from her apartment and tell her that you are avoiding your fiancé for now and that you need to think about some important things. You just hope she doesn't get mad that you're out of sight of the Capitol for a few days.
You needed rest. Or a longer vacation. The process of phasing out The Hunger Games has been a migraine-inducing experience from the very beginning. You were afraid to think about how it would all turn out and end.
You didn't actually have to think about it for long.
The car skidded strangely, and even though you were wearing your seat belt, it's throwing you forward and then backward. You groan as you feel the side of the car's body crumple inward under the pressure of the other car. You hear nothing—no sound—as you feel the bone in your leg break under the pressure of the other car, even though you swear you take a deep breath to scream. The last thing you remember before you pass out is a warm feeling spreading throughout your body.
"Clemensia. Where the hell is she?" Coriolanus approaches the Prime Minister, glaring at her furiously.
"Can't you see I'm trying to track her down?! Peacekeepers are looking for her everywhere. One of the lackeys says he saw her driver leaving here before the explosion; maybe she escaped before they blew up half of the presidential palace."
"It's better for you to be like this." He growls at her, furious. You were supposed to be with him all the time. You and Tigris were supposed to be far from danger. He only managed to keep an eye on his cousin. That wasn't his plan for the evening. How could he keep forgetting your ability to ruin all his ideas and assumptions? Next time, he will tie you to himself.
"Don't talk to me like that, Coriolanus. I've known you for too long. Besides, I'm the prime minister. If my suspicions are correct and this little attack on the presidential palace by the district's rebels the day before we announced our plan to take down the Hunger Games is not their own idea, then I will make sure Y/N's disappearance is your last concern."
"Are you threatening me?" He asks, raising an eyebrow questioningly. He takes a step towards her, making sure he is towering over her and looking down at her intimidatingly.
She tries to hide her nervousness, but by the way she swallows and the fear shining in her eyes, he knows that even though she's acting tough, she's still afraid of him. Like everyone in the Capitol. He would make sure that Clemensia would never again dare to put her above him. After all, he could always get rid of the prime minister. As the president's husband (and maybe, in the future, a full president), he would have enough power and connections to do that. But he would have to convince you of it first...
"I'm warning you. Like an ex-friend." Her voice brings him out of his thoughts. He laughs derisively and shakes his head in amusement before returning to his intimidating stance.
"So let me warn you too. If something happened to her, if her disappearance wasn't her own will, I'll make sure you hang with those district scumbags. You, your family, aunts and uncles, and whoever is close to or related to you. I'll erase your family name from the Capitol records." He says, leaning close enough to her so that no one accidentally overhears what he's saying, while making sure he's close enough for it to be appropriate. He doesn't want you to be jealous. Maybe a little. But definitely not now, when your engagement and marriage are in question.
“You don't have that kind of fucking power.”
"Maybe I don't. But I'm sure that Dr. Gaul's snakes would love to play with you again. Maybe this time they will be more poisonous?" He says it with a mischievous smirk as she turns pale at his words. She knows she's flooded with memories of the 10th Hunger Games and what Gaul did to her. He winks at her and walks away, not sparing her a second glance.
He doesn't wait for her answer. After all, he has more important things to worry about than arguing with his former friend.
He passes people treated by rescuers and gracefully jumps over the ruins of the eastern part of the presidential palace. He will have to hang more rebels than he thought. He finally agreed with them that only the ballroom would explode, not the entire wing. He would have the heads of all of them if something happened to you.
"Private." He calls out to one of the peacekeepers. A man younger than him walks up to him and bows respectfully.
"President Snow. How may I serve, sir?" He would smile at how he calls him if your health and safety weren't on his mind.
He barks dry and sharp orders at him and orders some of the peacekeepers to lock up and guard the rebels and shoot any unnecessary ones right away. Coriolanus didn't want to waste any time. He sends the rest of the men, along with the higher ranks, to secure the Capitol grounds against any escapes. His silent command is clear. Everyone must be captured by dawn, or inept peackeepers will take the place of those missing.
He notices that the people around him are quite quick to accept him as the new leader, even despite Dovecote's protests.
Coriolanus finds this logical. After all, after you, he is the next and only competent entity. He probably would have basked in his power if one of the soldiers hadn't handed him a phone. A call from the hospital.
"Madam President had a car accident. The rebels tracked her car and drove into the side; some of them set the car on fire, but fortunately someone got her out of there before the worst happened. We are stabilising her condition all the time, but..."
"If you let her die, I will consider it treason and an attack on the head of state. All hospital staff will become traitors like those rebels from the districts and punished even worse than them; tell this to the doctors. In fact, I'll do it myself as soon as I get there. Have a nice night." He hangs up the phone and, after a quick conversation with a council of people closest to you, a plan of action with the press spokesman, and a very hateful tussle with Dovecote over the car, which he obviously wins, gets into the car and drives himself to the hospital.
Because no matter what happens, you are his priority. He's going to assure you of that.
He parks his car anywhere and runs up the hospital stairs. When the nurses see him, they run away, dragging trolleys with other patients. He manages to grab one of them painfully by the elbow and ask about your whereabouts. The nurse sighs in relief when she doesn't say anything in return, and he immediately heads to the room you are in.
He sees you in various states. Burned from head to toe, broken bones, bruised. He feels his inner anger rising along with his anxiety as various scenarios run through his head.
In each of them, you are barely clinging to life, but you are alive because Coriolanus cannot imagine existing in a world without you. You can hate him, you can curse him, and you can distrust him, but you MUST LIVE. For him.
But in neither of them does he imagine Lucy Gray sitting by your side.
"Touch her, and I'll break all your bones and put you in prison with a muzzle on your mouth so you can't sing for the rest of your miserable life." He doesn't know how, but he manages to get over his initial shock and threatens her, closing the door behind him with a loud bang.
She doesn't even flinch. In fact, she is not taking her eyes off of you. She looks just like when they were in 12. Like it hasn't passed a day since he tried to shoot her and kill her in the forest near the lake she showed him.
"Relax. She's too good to hurt. And I'm not a murderer. You know about it."
"What the hell are you doing here?" He asks as their eyes meet. And he is the one who flinches.
Because the Lucy Gray looking at him isn't the same girl he helped win the Hunger Games. He feels something... strange about her. An aura that he can't properly name. It makes him more anxious, and he forgets about you for a moment in favour of the woman sitting by your hospital bed.
"I saved your fiancée. Do you know that the people you talked to are customers who often come to my tavern? You hide it well, but I know you, Coriolanus. I connected the dots. She will do it too."
"She's not like you. She won't run away from me. She won't leave me. She loves me." He growls at her threat.
He shifts his gaze to you and relaxes slightly. You breathe. Steady and calm. You're as pale as a wall, but you're alive. You have a bandage wrapped around your head, but you're alive. The beeping in the room monitoring your heartbeat reassures him of this. He always thought it was annoying. Only now is he starting to understand how heavenly this sound is.
"She did it today, didn't she? She ran away from you and got into the car, I bet, after your fight. About what? About power? About the title? You have everything, Coriolanus. Prestige. The woman of your dreams. Respect. Money. What more could you want? Isn't this what you dreamed of? At the times when you had nothing but her? Haven't you dreamed of being right where you are?
Her questions catch him off guard. He doesn't know why, but all he can do is stand there over your bed and listen to the songbird as he questions his actions and motivations. What's even weirder is that he can't really name what he's feeling right now. Everything became unimportant the moment he walked into that room and saw the both of you. Or rather, when he was informed about your accident.
"I... yes."
"So what are you still fighting for? What do you still want so badly? Maybe you'd rather have everything BUT her?"
"No. No." Hee shakes his head, looking down at you and your unconscious body.
NO. He couldn't live like this.
Without your smile. Without your warmth. Without your touch. Without your lips. Without your moans. Without your quarrels. Without your irritated and angry sighs. Without seeing the crease between your eyebrows when you solved a difficult problem. Without your tired smile and sigh as you climbed into bed with him.
He could starve for weeks. But he couldn't be without your presence. You were more precious than anything.
Than any water, food, air, money, or titles. When he had nothing, when his family was starving and living in a dilapidated apartment, he could only feel powerful with you in his arms. He could only feel important in the glow of your attention and affection. And he knew that if it were taken away from him again, he would not enjoy any power. He had a piece of it to himself today. And all he could think about was you.
"Mr. Snow?" The doctor's voice snaps him out of his thoughts. He looks up, no longer finding Lucy Gray at your side. He shakes his head and rubs his hand over his eyes. He shouldn't drink that last glass of champagne...
"Yes?"
"Everything is fine with Madam President. We managed to stabilise her. She should make a full recovery in time for the wedding, but she needs to rest a lot. She was put through a very hard and difficult experience." He nods and hestitantly sits down in the chair next to yours, keeping his eyes on you (which is a great relief for the doctor).
"I will take care of her." He announces firmly, in a hushed tone of voice, as if you weren't on strong drugs and could wake up at any moment.
"Of course. I shall leave you both." The doctor takes the opportunity that Coriolanus' attention is focused solely on you and leaves.
Coryo gently cups your cheek in his hand and strokes it with his thumb. He lingers on your lips, relieved to feel your shallow exhale. The fingers of his other hand wrap around your wrist as he checks your pulse, making sure you're alive and that his mind isn't playing with him like it was with Lucy Gray.
You were there. Safe. He hovers over your bed and puts his head on your chest. He doesn't put his burden on you; he would rather die than hurt you. He simply puts his ear in to listen to the rhythmic beats of your heart.
He quickly decides that's the prettiest song of all time.
"Tilt your head a little towards me, my diamond. I don't want to touch your wound too much." He says, kneeling by the tub as he washes your hair, making sure the shampoo doesn't get too deep into the already crusted skin at the back of your head.
"Are you aware that I can do it myself?" You sigh as he carefully rinses your hair.
"Are you aware that you only got out of the hospital yesterday?" He answers the question with a question as he continues to wash you, being extremely gentle. His fingers caress the scalp of your head as his other hand lazily runs the sponge over your body, making sure to clean every bit of you.
You would appreciate it if he left your side for just five seconds. Or at least for one. Ever since you saw him watching over your hospital bed, he hasn't left your side. And the peacekeepers seemed to be circling around you all the time.
"Yes, and since my accident, you haven't left my side even for once."
"Does this surprise you?" His point is right. You could have predicted he would be like this. Just like how he'll be jealous of every peacekeeper around you, which is why he either always had his arm wrapped around you or had women watching over you when he REALLY needed to leave your side. To another room. With the door open, so he could look at you while he talked on the phone or did whatever he had to do.
"I don't like this shampoo." You change the subject, wincing as you straighten the leg that was removed from the cast yesterday.
He looks at you scoldingly and gently grabs your leg. You moan as he massages your muscles, just like the physical therapist showed him. He only allowed female doctors to see you. And he always had to be present in the room. As if you couldn't take care of yourself or trust a damn doctor.
Yet you allow him a bit of this... madness. You actually found it sweet how protective he became of you. Not enough to not snap at him when he was really crossing the line, but it was still sweet to see him concerned and so tender in his care for you.
"A little lower." You tell him, closing your eyes and leaning your head against the tub.
"Don't do that." Coriolanus says this and gently places his fingers on your neck, pushing your head forward a little. "You can't rest the back of your head on anything yet."
"I'm not a baby, Snow. I know what I can and cannot do." You say it stubbornly. He sighs and rolls his eyes at you. He gets up from his knees and begins to quickly undress. You can't help but blush at the sight of his toned, well-muscled body. You're getting a little hot. Especially since you haven't had him in you for a long time. "I thought I was really sick?" You ask teasingly, biting your lip as you watch him closely.
"You are. Move over." He says this and sits behind you. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you closer to him. You rest your head on his shoulder so that your wound doesn't touch his skin or the tub.
"You've gone soft, Snow." You're mocking him. If you turned around, you would see a soft smile on his lips.
"On the contrary, this way, I can feel you better. Especially your sweet ass, which teases me. Keep doing this, and I'll spank you."
"I thought the car hit me too hard for you to fuck me?" You say it jokingly, but instead of laughing or responding with a comment, he tenses. Concerned, you turn in his arms to look at him. He has a thoughtful expression on his face. You see a bit of anger on her face, a bit of resentment, and a bit of something resembling nervousness. "Coryo?"
"You wanted to run away? Then?" He asks you thoughtfully. You shiver as his eyes pierce yours, searching for any hint of lie or truth. Automatically, he holds you tighter against him and reaches for the faucet to add warm water to the bathtub.
"You know that I can't I am the president." You respond, letting him hug you tightly. You bury your face in his neck, nuzzling his neck with your nose. He's trembling too now. He pulls away gently and cups your chin. He forces you to look at him, examining your face carefully.
"I'm not asking you if you could. I'm asking you if you wanted to. Did you want to run away from me?"
There is silence between you for a moment. The only sound is the splash of water flowing into the bathtub. You lick your lips and kiss him briefly and quickly. Before he has a chance to kiss you back, you pull away from him and turn off the tap.
"No. I needed to calmly think about a few things. And you know how... explosive we can be together when we both get into each other's thoughts."
"I guess so. Which didn't explain your behaviour earlier. That little burst of tears. What was it really about?"
He lets you play with his fingers underwater. You don't look at him, collecting your thoughts, wondering how honest you can be with him. You remind yourself that he is meant to be your husband, and if so, you want nothing less than a partner. After his grandmother died, he changed, but he was right. He wasn't the same Coryo. He couldn't be. Not after what he was put through. And you weren't the same Y/N. He accepted it... you guess. But could you do the same?
"I guess... I guess I am scared you will love it more. That you will love power over me... or other things... just like you always did."
"I beg your pardon?" He asks, surprised, even shocked. You frown and move your gaze to his chest, nervously nibbling at his skin.
"You always had something more important than me. The Plinth Prize. Lucy Gray. The Hunger Games. Dr. Gaul's favor. The Presidency. There was always something above me." You tell him, not looking him in the eyes.
An awkward silence falls between you. You are afraid to interrupt her. And you can barely move without his help, so you'll stick with it as long as he wants you to. The bastard knew you had no escape; that's why he brought this topic up.
"I did it to be someone. To matter in the Capitol. So that I can marry you. So I could be able to take care of you and Tigris. You know it well."
"And I would marry you and live in poverty if only we could be together. You know it well." You respond quickly, using his words. He wrinkles his nose in obvious displeasure, shifting in the tub and tightening his grip on you even more.
"That's the last thing I wanted for you. What I wanted for my family. What I wanted for myself."
"And what do you want now?" Your question catches him off guard, as if he's heard it before somewhere. You look at him carefully, seeing thousands of thoughts running through his head.
He remembers his conversation with Lucy Grey—her ghost, apparition, drunken vision, or whatever she was. He wasn't sure of his answer then. Not completely. But now that your eyes were staring at him instead of the district girl, he had no doubts about what he wanted.
"The first man I killed was a boy from the district." He starts playing with your hair as he begins his confession. "Tribute in the arena. Sejanus entered there after his friend from the district was... you know. Dr. Gaul told me to get him out of there before anyone noticed him. As we were leaving... he ran up to us. The tribute. He wanted to kill us. I grabbed something metal and heavy and hit him. Everywhere. Head, torso, legs, and arms. Until he stopped moving. The second person was the daughter of the mayor of District 12. Sejanus was conspiring with some people from the district. He gave them weapons. He was under the illusion that they would just organise a peaceful demonstration, but they shot several peacekeepers. She walked in in the middle of our conversation when I caught them. Right after her was Lucy Gray. They didn't like each other, and we... were close then. I had to shoot her. Not to protect Sejanus or her. I... all I could think about was that if I didn't kill her, then they would hang me too, and I wouldn't be able to come back... I'd never come back to you and Tigirs. And the third... the third was Sejanus. The one who was at every one of my murders. I... remember the time spent in 12 vaguely. But his scream when they were hanging him haunts me and will continue to haunt me in my dreams very... very precisely."
You remain silent after his long speech. You didn't expect him to ever tell you about his time in 12. Or about the people he killed. That he would open up enough to really admit his crimes to you. What should worry you is that he doesn't regret his actions and that he talks about them... too lightly. But how would you react in his place? Wouldn't your impulses be similar? To defend yourself from everything? At least in these first two cases...
"And for the past few days, all I could think about was that you would be my fourth. So don't say I don't care about you, that I don't put you above everything else, when all I could think about was that I would shoot myself if you died, because there is no life for me without you. You haunt me everywhere. You are everywhere. I see you everywhere; I remember your touch, your smell, and your taste. I am addicted to you... just like you are to me."
"So... you killed two?" You ask, swallowing, holding back tears of emotion at his words.
Maybe he actually cared about you more than you thought? But could he? Now he would say anything to marry you, to become the president's husband, and with time maybe a president... you remember how they called him that. But did it really bother you? Have someone with whom you can share the burden of running the country? He would certainly be better able to silence pesky ministers than you or Clem.
"Three." His whisper interrupts your internal thoughts. You look up at him and see him staring thoughtfully into the water. You cup his cheek and force him to look into your eyes.
"You didn't put a rope around his neck, Coryo."
"Maybe not physically. But it's because of me that he's dead. You know it. Why are you trying to justify me?" His question confused you because you had no idea what to say back. You knew why you were doing it and why you were trying to explain his actions to yourself.
And you also knew perfectly well who was behind half of your presidential palace exploding. You couldn't cancel the Hunger Games after something like that. Not now. But maybe it was good? Maybe you can slowly make the changes you want? It was foolish to think that Coriolanus would simply accept it. But gradually... giving him more and more power and autonomy... maybe you could even split the presidency between the two of you? Then he wouldn't be so insistent on keeping the Hunger Games.
"We are not good for each other." You whisper, catching his gaze. You gently stroke his cheek with your thumb as he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him.
"I've never said we are." He answers. The water is getting colder around you.
"We will break each other." You whisper, leaning towards him. You rub your noses against each other and rest your foreheads against each other. The closeness between you makes you feel warmer, even as the water around you becomes more and more icy.
"Possibly... I will not beg you to stay."
"Me neither." You say and capture his lips in a kiss. He tightens his grip on you, his fingers digging into your waist as he presses you against him. You feel his every muscle and movement when you kiss, forgetting about everything around you and all the problems that are waiting for you outside.
You're both lying. You both would keep the other one by your side at all costs. Even if you are not able to admit it to yourselves and become truly vulnerable, you know what the unspoken truth is between you two. You knew each other too long and deeply to live apart and never have contact with each other.
"I love you, Coriolanus." You whisper as he picks you up and walks towards his bed. He stops for a moment, stunned and shocked by your confession.
Coriolanus. Not Coryo. Not his old self.
"I love you too, Y/N. Never doubt that." He kisses you hungrily and greedily, feeling like he's won everything the moment you both fall onto his mattress.
And with your every touch, every gasp, and every moan of his name, he makes himself completely sure about the decision he has made. Maybe the power over you would be enough for him, or maybe not. For now, it was good to be able to fall into each other's arms. To have someone to come home to...
"Are you sure?" Tigris asks you as she is straightening your veil and wedding dress. "Clem and I have prepared a contingency plan just in case. Say the word, and we'll cancel it all. It's just the four of us, your parents and my fiancé. No one will know. And Clem will make up some story for the press and convince the priest to keep... the secret of the confession, or whatever you want to call it."
"I'm sure. There is no turning back. I won't wear this dress again, and it would be a pity to let it go to waste."
"I'm glad you like the dress, but what about your fiancé?"
"He's not that bad." You joke, and you both laugh. You're both interrupted by Clem's arrival. She whistles when she sees you.
"My God, you look even better than at the fittings. Maybe it's good that you're having this private wedding. I was angry at the beginning, as was half of the Capitol, but thanks to this, any photo published will be more eagerly watched and anticipated by people. Plus, Coryo might not kill someone out of jealousy that someone else sees you like that. Take care of your fiancé, Tigris."
"Everything will be fine." You tell them, looking at yourself in the mirror. The bracelet from Sejanus is on your wrist again. A wedding gift from Coryo.
"And where does this certainty come from?" You shrug at Clem's question and give her a mischievous smile.
"Snow lands on top." With a smile, you watch as horror and realisation appear on Clem's face. You laugh along with Tigris as she sighs dramatically.
"NO! Just not this! Don't tell me you're taking his surname, and now you're going to throw out this stupid text too! I listened to it for half of the Academy; I can't stand it for half my life, and what's worse, in your version!"
"It won't be that bad. I'll be Y/L/N-Snow.”
"This will be even worse! You can use both! Your future kids too!" She complains, not caring about your laughter. Coriolanus was right; her reaction was worth everything.
"Nope. Only I can use both. The kids, if there are any, will have his last name. I had to make some compromise."
"Kudos to him for that. Maybe I won't go crazy before I'm 40." You are about to express your doubts, but just then your mother comes in, looking at you with tears of emotion in her eyes.
"It's time. Should we sing 'Here Comes the Bride?'"
"Only if you're drunk enough." You joke and take the bouquet from Tigris. You hug both of your girls and your mother and go to your father, so he can walk you to the altar.
"You look beautiful. Are you sure you want to do this?" He asks you as soon as you get there.
"This is the second person asking me this; should I have doubts? Because I don't." You reply jokingly, but you know he notices how your hands are shaking.
"I trust him with you. It's obvious he loves you. And my old eyes tell me he's probably nervous too, maybe more than you are." He says this and nods towards the window.
The presidential palace has them tinted, so Coriolanus and your immediate family gathered in the garden cannot see you, but you can see them. And you see him staring at the door, waiting for you to enter. You see him playing with the sleeve of his cuff thoughtfully, with probably thousands of scenarios going through his head in which you leave him at the altar. And you're tempted to do it and see if he would chase you...
"I am sure. Let's go now... or he'll have a heart attack." You joke, trying to laugh it off.
Your father nods. He opens the door and leads you towards the altar. You don't hear the music around you, and you don't notice how warm the evening is.
All you can look at is Coriolanus.
And he just looks at you too, a smirk on his face. Not the one when he wins over his enemy and when his plans go his way. It's a sincere smile, the one you love more than life itself, the one that the poor boy with whom you shared your lunch had. Coriolanus Snow's happy smile dispels all your doubts.
The wedding ceremony is somewhere near you. Somehow, you don't pay attention to the words being said; you don't register any sound. Only the Coryo pattern counts. His tight grip on your hands and the fact that he's just as nervous and scared as you are, but you both don't run away. You just stand there, holding hands and looking into each other's eyes, because right now that's all that matters. You two. No Capitol, no Panem, and no districts—no nightmares of the past.
Just you two and this one moment. And you know that whatever happens, it will either break your heart or keep it alive forever. Because the undeniable truth is that you will need each other forever.
What difference does it make how many times you go from lovers to enemies to lovers and back again as long as you always found your way back to each other's arms?
You were practiced at breaking and mending your hearts.
#oneshot#young coriolanus snow#coriolanus snow#coriolanus snow x reader#coriolanus x reader#coriolanus x you#coryo snow#coriolanus snow x you#coriolanus snow x y/n#coriolanus x y/n#coryo x reader#snow x reader#snow lands on top#tigris snow#coryo x you#toxic love#romance#angst#argument#kissing#clemensia dovecote#tbosbas#ballad of songbirds and snakes#hunger games#angst with a happy ending#hurt/comfort#wedding#protective coriolanus snow#kasagia
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Three for One 1
Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, cheating, customer service abuse, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: As a customer service associate, you're used to work with a wide variety of characters. Your efforts to go above and beyond draw the attention of a certain set of customers who want more than what's on the shelf.
Character: Andy Barber, Lloyd Hansen, Ransom Drysdale
Note: Right, this was supposed to be a drabble series but it morphed and not I'm fucked.
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3
Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)
Love you all. Take care. 💖
It's the most special time of year! Mistletoe, jingle bells, and holiday cheer! Oh, and hot chocolate. Lots of that.
You hide your thermos under the desk and grab the crystal bottle again, giving a test spritz to the air. Your job isn't very complicated. All you do is say hi and chat about the perfume. Your manager says the job is selling but you don't like to see it that way.
You smile at a family of five as they veer towards the toy section. You don't think the six year old would be into an eau de parfum. It's understandable.
While you spend your hours wandering around expensive makeups and scents, you're filled with a certain hint of longing. For what you're paid to push the merchandise, you can't afford any of it yourself. Well, you've never been very materialistic.
You spin around and see a gentlemen approaching, though he doesn't seem to see you. He looks past you, almost through you. You stop in place and put on your best smile, fixing the red band around your head.
"Hello, sir, would you like to try some Gucci?" You offer and spray the nozzle at him.
He skids to a stop and recoils as if he's been slapped. He holds out his arm as he looks down at his coat, little droplets seeping into the fabric. He takes a whiff, his short mustache wiggling under his nose, and he scoffs as he tries to shake off the cologne.
"What the fuck are you doing?" He snips.
"Sorry, sir, I didn't mean to scare you."
"You just go around spray people with that horseshit?"
"Well, sir, with respect, I don't like that sort of language.
"And I don't like being drenched in dog piss," he blusters, "point me to the goddamn trimmers."
"Um, what kind? Nail trimmers? Pet trimmers? Garden trimmers?"
"What the fuck do you think?" He points to his own face.
You hold your smile. There's always that one customer who's having a bad day. Whatever's got him so upset must be worse than dealing with him.
"Personal care," you point to the far corner, "right over there, sir."
"Ugh," he stomps and storms off.
"I hope your day gets better," you call after him, "oh, did you want a store coupon--"
He ignores you as he waves you off over his shoulder. You watch him turn towards men's grooming and you shrug, rocking slightly. You try not to let them get to you. As jolly as you find this time of year, a lot of people don't feel the same.
You shrug off the encounter. You still have a few hours ahead of you and it's starting to bustle with customers. You help a couple find the home wares while keeping the boundary of cosmetics firm. Lucille, the manager, doesn't like you leaving your zone.
You approach a woman looking at the Prada selection and get her checked out with a new fragrance, specially gift-wrapped by yours truly. She leaves happy, a small victory for the day. You celebrate but not too much.
You come around the counter just as you see that man strutting back up. He has an item in his hand and ignores you as he passes. Still you smile at him.
"Annoying," he mutters under his breath.
"Need help finding anything else, sir?" You ask his heels.
He stops and you see the way his spine stiffens. Oh no, you shouldn't have said anything. He slowly turns to face you.
"You can shut up," he marches up to you and grabs the bottle from your hands, "shut." He sprays you in the face, "up." He squirts you several more times before shoving the vial against your chest, "stupid little girl."
You take the bottle, blinking as you use your cuff to wipe the perfume away from your eyes. He continues on his path as you stand dumbfounded, drenched in Gucci cologne. It's hard to breathe through the heavy scent and you can't help but cough.
What a jerk. Just because he's having a bad day, doesn't mean everyone needs to.
Slowly you grow accustomed to the smell of yourself. It’s not too unusual. You go nose blind about halfway through your shift once you spray a few too many samples. You keep your distance from customers, offering them a spritz but trying not to crowd them with the vapors of cologne rippling off of you.
You yawn as the afterwork rush floods in and you make another round, smiling at Sofia as she peeks over at you. She’s with another customer at the counter, ringing them up as she gabs. You spin at the display at the center of the crossway that runs through the beauty department and stagger back before another can run you over.
You apologise to the tall man as he skids to a stop on his soles. You can tell he’s in a hurry by the way he grips his briefcase and squares his jaw. He wears a long dark wool coat as flecks of snow melt into his thick beard.
“Oh, sorry, I er, wasn’t–” He clears his throat, collecting himself, “I… didn’t see you.”
“That’s okay, sir,” you assure him, “would you like to try the new scent?”
You hold up the onyx bottle but don’t spray him. You don’t need another dousing. He looks at the silver letters on the side then at you. The furrow in his brow lightens as his blue eyes swim.
“No thanks, but er, you think you could help me find something?”
“Of course,” you chime and lower the bottle, “are you looking for a gift for someone special?”
He nods, “my mother-in-law is on her way into town, I need a present. Maybe perfume?”
His tone is tinted with frustration as he reaches up to rub the back of his neck. He lets out a long sigh. He’s one of those shoppers; the last minute scrambler. You grasp the vial in one hand and tug at the front of your thick red sweater, you’re starting to get a bit toasty in the crowded store.
“How old is she?” You ask.
“Um,” he clamps his lips together and thinks, “hmmm, probably seventy-something? I’m sorry, I guess I should know that.”
“That’s okay, I… I would suggest some Liz Taylor,” you turn on your heel and wave him after you as you head off, “it’s a classic. Not so much a me scent but the older crowd likes it. Oh, and it’s on special so your wallet won’t hate it, either.”
You stop by the Diamonds display as you face him again. He follows at a pace and stops before the shelf, perusing the gold caps and crystal caps. He considers the rack in deep thought.
“Here,” you set down your bottle on a nearby table of seasonal decorations and take one from the display. You slip out a strip of cardstock and spray it with the sampler, “this one is gardenia. That was her favourite scent. It’s probably the least pungent.”
You offer him the sample and he eyes it. He slowly bends and sniffs the end of the paper. He wiggles his nose. It makes you sneeze too. As much as you’re a fan of the classic actress, her scents are dated.
“Smells like her,” he grumbles under his breath, “sure, I’ll take that.”
“Great,” you declare and trade the sampler for a boxed bottle, then retrieve your disposed Gucci vial, “would you like me to check you out, sir?”
“Is it faster?”
“I can be fast,” you promise him, “this way.”
You go around the sparkling counters and he meets you across the till. You type in your log in, taking several tries to get your passcode right. The man places his briefcase on the counter,a hand resting on the edge.
“You know a lot about this stuff?” He prompts.
“Yeah, I guess,” you smile as you scan the perfume and tap the special offer on the screen, “kinda part of the job.”
“Hmm” he hums again, in that thoughtful manner. You look at him but he’s not looking at your face, “that’s a nice sweater.”
You look down at the red wool speckled with pearls. It’s new and one of your favourites already. You can’t help a little wiggle of your shoulders, “thanks!”
“Very… cheerful,” he muses as he takes out his wallet, “wish I could say the same of what awaits me.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, sir, it’s that time of year, I guess,” you push the debit machine towards him and he taps his credit card, “I’m sure your mother-in-law will love the perfume.” The transaction approves and the receipt prompts, “would you like an email?”
“Nah, that’s fine,” he tucks his credit card away.
“Would you like it gift-wrapped?” You offer, “it’s free?”
He hovers his hand over his briefcase as he considers it. His eyes meet yours and his cheek dimples, “alright, yeah, that’s… that’s perfect. Thank you.”
“No problem,” you beam back at him, “let me just get some tissue paper…”
You murmur to yourself as you grab some gold tissue paper and a white gift bag with a Christmas tree embossed into the side. You carefully line up the small box on the paper and begin your intensive work. You're a master wrapper, you used to work at the wrapping station in the mall.
“What about you?” He asks before the silence can stretch too far, “you seeing family for the holidays? When you’re not working?”
“Um,” you smile as you look up, “I’m just hanging out with my dog. I bought him a bone.”
“A dog,” he nods, “your family live out of town?”
Usually, you ask the questions. It’s easier that way. It deflects the attention from you. It’s why you like the job; you can hear all about others and not have to think about yourself.
“Yeah, something like that,” you slip the wrapped box into the bag and fluff the tissue paper.
“Eh!” The loud exclamation makes you jump as the man merely turns his head, a tic in his jaw. His eyes narrow as another customer approaches, strutting with hands in his jacket pocket as he calls out, “Barber, what the hell?”
Your customer shifts towards the man, heels squeaking on the floor, “Hugh.”
“Don’t Hugh me, asshole,” the other man retorts, “you said you were busy? What’s the matter, you lose too much money last time?”
“Suzette is in town. Family dinner,” the man, Barber, drones dully.
“Ah, ditched for the old crone, I get it.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Well, wouldn’t you know it, poker night was canceled, something about not enough seats,” the man counters sharply.
“Next week,” the first man growls.
“Hey, you,” the man in the russet coat snaps his fingers in your direction, “you got some of that Acqua di Gio. That dumb girl over there said you’re sold out.”
Your brows pop up and you swallow tightly. He’s another type. The arrogant demander. He doesn’t hear no. He’ll ask everyone the same question in hope of getting a different answer.
“We are out of stock, sir, but I could order it in for you,” you suggest.
“Order in? I can just go on Amazon, thanks for nothing,” he chops his hand at you dismissively.
“Hey,” the other man nudges his chest, “be nice. She’s working.”
“What? I’m here to spend money and they got shit all–”
“It’s December,” the other man reproaches before he turns back to you, “sorry, my friend is a jerk.” He accepts the gift bag as you hold it out, “thank you. You saved me.”
“No problem, but er, I was gonna say,” you turn to the other man, “sir, I have some samples of the Armani. I could give you those while you wait for the order.”
“Samples?” He echoes, “how many?”
“Let me have a look,” you back up and go to the drawer at the back of the checkout.
“I gotta get going, miss,” the first man waves his hand as you peek over your shoulder, “have a happy holiday.”
“You too,” you chirp back and find the last few tubes of Armani. You claim them and prance back to meet the new customer at the counter, “I have five.” You lay out your wares, “if I order in a bottle it’ll be in just before Christmas.”
“Two weeks?” He puffs.
“I’m sorry, sir, that’s the earliest I can do. It’s the last day I can guarantee delivery before Christmas.”
“Talk, talk, talk, order it,” he snaps.
“Right, let me just…” you open the shop and search up the scent. You add it to the cart and proceed. “Alright, got that, did you want it shipped for pick up here or to your address.”
“Here, they can never fucking find my house,” he sniffs.
“Great, so when it arrives, we’ll give you a call. You’ll also get an email to confirm.”
“What’s going on here?” He points at you suddenly. You look down again at your sweater but don’t see anything amiss. You flinch as he reaches to pinch one of the pearls, “what is this?”
“Oh, I… my sweater,” you raise your head, swallowing down the insult. It’s cute!
“Huh, Walmart clearance, huh,” he scoffs, “alright, how much are you robbing me for?”
He reaches into his coat as you hit total. You read out the final amount but he doesn’t pull out a card; he hands you cash. You count the bills, twice over, then give him his change. He looms with impatient huffs.
“Here’s your receipt,” you hand him the strip of paper. “Have a good day, sir.”
“Mmm,” he pokes his tongue into his cheek as he shoves the receipt into his pocket, “actually, while I’m here, I’d like a new sweater. You can help me and I’ll show you what real quality is.”
You almost laugh. Not spitefully, it’s just a bit silly. He’s competing with you, a perfume pusher.
“Well, sir, I can point you towards men’s fashion but I’m not able to leave this department, I’m sorry,” you give a sheepish smile.
“Oh no, good girl wouldn’t want to break the rules,” he rolls his eyes, “goody goody and her precious little smile.” He hooks his thumbs in his pockets, “my shit better be in by Christmas.”
He twists and strides away. You watch him go but not for long as you’re quickly distracted by a customer looking at the Britney Spears collection. Those are easy sellers.
#andy barber#lloyd hansen#ransom drysdale#dark andy barber#dark lloyd hansen#dark ransom drysdale#dark!andy barber#dark!lloyd hansen#dark!ransom drysdale#andy barber x reader#lloyd hansen x reader#ransom drysdale x reader#knives out#the gray man#defending jacob#au#multicharacter#multifandom#fic#dark fic#dark!fic#series#three for one
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Lily of the Valley - (c.b. oneshot)
O/S INSPO: Lily of the Valley Soothing, calming, draws peace and tranquility, and repels negativity. Assists in empowering happiness and mental powers. Married couples should plant Lily of the Valley in their first garden to promote longevity of the marriage.
POSTED DATE:03/30/2024
W/C: 4,114
A/N: FINALLY!!!! I am so sorry this took forever! This O/S is based on this adorable request from the LOML @daysofyellowroses - please check out her blog! I hope this satisfies your Carmy Proposing idea! I'm sorry it took so long i've been sick, but were back baby!!! Requests are opennnn y'all! This is also heavily inspired by my amazing OOMF @gingergofastboatsmojito - In another timeline Carmy still somehow came across Madame Stardusts jewelry (she transcends time and space that woman!) , & Stella exists too! If you want to meet more of that character in the universe Ginger created (I highly recommend you do)you can read that AMAZING FIC HERE ! Please be sure to leave kudos & comments & give Ginger all the flowers she deserves!!!
WARNINGS FOR BTC: Smut, Swearing, NO USE OF Y/N - As little physical description as possible, fluffy Carmen, OC Carmy - (He's more emotionally grown obvi hahah)
➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭
You pushed the heavy, bulging tote bags full of groceries up your arm as you walked back to Your&Carmy’s shared Condo Building. The wildflower seeds you’d thrown on the little patches of grass on your walks to the train, along the sidewalk on your block had finally started to bloom. Adorable tiny little flowers in vibrant shades of blue, pink, purple, yellow, and white peeking out over the sidewalk's edge.
Spring had most definitely sprung in Chicago by this point. Your commute whilst walking to work down Michigan Ave, passing the stunning array of tulips, had told you that fiercely every time you walked to and from the train this week on the way to work. It was finally Friday, and you couldn’t be happier.
Carmen had been so busy this week- busier than normal. You’d usually just hang out with your best friends to fill that pathetic, lonely void while grading papers and doing your own assignments- but they were busy this week too! You were convinced the universe had bound you to loneliness this week, so naturally, all you wanted to do was get home, crawl into bed, and sleep- until Carmy came in around 2 to 3 am, and get that savored 15 minutes of cuddles after his shower, before exhaustion came over you again and you fell back asleep.
You used your special key fob to get in the door of your condo’s shared building, which to your standards was very luxurious- it included amenities you’d never even thought of. You and Carmy had moved in together 3 months ago, it took a lot of convincing on your end. You and Carmy had lived on opposite ends of town, so every time you’d see eachother, (which was very often) - it would be an hour's drive that he insisted- or, him losing the battle- and allowing you to take the train back all those stops.
You weren’t particularly religious, it was more just a personal preference - that you would be at least engaged before you were to move in together. Especially before having a mortgage together. You’d told Carmy this, and he’d given you the same answer each time over the last two years he’d been begging - “Baby we know we’re in love, you know we’re eachothers forever person - we tell eachother every day! We’ve been together 3 years, Let me take care of you”
It wasn’t that you didn’t want to be taken care of- it’s just…you liked working. You loved your job, you’d went to school and earned a masters degree for Christ sake, and were currently working on your PHD. You couldn’t ever see yourself giving that up, and moving in with a boyfriend and him insisting on paying all the bills made you fear you’d fall pregnant, and then your professional life would be over.
But, Carmen had insisted to you he wasn’t interested in children unless you were. You were sure at one point you never wanted them, but you were becoming more afraid, because seeing as amazing an uncle Carmen was, how naturally kind and understanding he was of children- it brought out something in you. It was so sudden that you could imagine turning your shared library / art studio into a nursery during slow time at work.
You walked down the hall, in no rush to be home. The only presence waiting being your cat, Truffle, Carmy had insisted on the name due to his deep black fur.
You approached the door, confused as to why you were hearing…music? From your apartment? You shook the hope of Carmy being home this early away, not wanting to be dissapointed. The neighbors downstairs must be blasting that same kind of jazz instrumental Carmy listens to so loud that you heard it through the floor.
You unlock the door, and sure enough the music playing softly through the condo gets a tad louder but the first thing to catch your eye was the white and pink rose petals making a trail to the kitchen. You heard Carmy humming lightly, the sound of chopping on the cutting board.
“Bear?” You quickly nudge the door shut with your hip, not even bothering to take your shoes off and rushing down the hall into the kitchen. Sitting atop the breakfast bar, was a vase packed with beautiful pink and white roses.
He looks up from the cutting board “My favorite girl” he stops what he was doing immediately coming and taking the bags from your shoulders, setting them down before greeting you with a sweet kiss. He cupped your cheeks gently, pulling you in to him so you were flush together with his other hand.
“You used our card f’that right?” He asked softly when he pulled away. You roll your eyes a bit, he had insisted you get a shared credit card, and that you purchase everything with it- and at the end of the month, he will show you the statement, and only pay a quarter of the total, just another one of the ways he assured every financial burden of yours was eased significantly.
“Yes, what is all this baby?” You asked, motioning to the roses. “Did I forget somethin? Our anniversary isn’t for another 2 months” you asked a bit nervously. Carmen wasn’t a stickler for dates, but it would break your heart if you were to forget something important.
“No- no. I just…just love you- I wanted to show you, and especially after this week I know I’ve been crazy busy, and I’ve been comin’ in late and leavin’ early, and…I just wanted to show my best girl how much she means t’me” he kissed your forehead sweetly and you felt a blush creeping to your cheeks.
“That’s so sweet Bear. Thank you I love you, this is…no one’s ever done this- oh my god- are those balloons?” You giggled, seeing heart shaped foil balloons tied to your chair at the table and he smiled proudly.
“Mmhmm, the lady at the flower place said that - we can talk about it later. You wanna cook w’me? You can just watch if you want?” He asked, gently brushing his fingers through your hair.
“I never turn down a lesson from the best, let me go get changed real quick” you headed toward the bedroom and he stopped you by your hand pulling you back into his chest, kissing your neck with wet open mouth kisses earning a giggle that you couldn’t contain.
“Mmm- don’t go in there right now, it’s for later. I already got your pajamas right here” he said going over to the couch and grabbing your favorite pair of sweatpants and his old ‘the beef’ tshirt that to you was the most comfortable thing in the world, especially when he wore it to bed for a few nights before giving it back.
“For later huh?” You muse, taking off your heeled booties and unbuttoning your slacks before peeling them off and trading them for your soft fuzzy grey sweatpants.
“Mmhmm” he hummed in response and took your pants for you and your blouse and bra as well, bringing them to the laundry room as you put the shirt on and got your hair situated into a bun.
“What are we cooking today, chef?” You asked, heading over to the kitchen to see there were little bowls of vegetables that have been precut and you gasp happily. “Stop- are we really?” You giggled.
“I told you that it’s easy baby but you hate eggplant so ratatouille isn’t gonna be something you’re a big fan of” he chuckled. You had watched the movie with him, and told him that the ratatouille dish looked insanely delicious and that you wanted him to make it for you, but he told you your aversion to eggplant would probably turn you off the dish.
“But there isn’t eggplant” you said looking over the dishes filled with various vegetables.
“That’s right, this is princess ratatouille. I’ve been figurin’ out different vegetables w’Syd that would work for it, we finally got it right. We have zucchini and a few different squashes, and we have onion and garlic, tomato, bell pepper, everything you like. I think you’ll love it baby.” He said rubbing your back gently.
“Of course I’m gonna love it bear, I love everything we make together you have the magic touch. So what’s my job?” You asked eagerly.
“You my special sous chef, are gonna help put the veggies in and I’m gonna do the sauce” He kissed your temple gently.
“Ok! Let me get my apron” You said, happily turning to the drawer you kept your aprons in.
“Wait-” he said, holding your arm. You look back at him and he looked…nervous.”Is…something wrong?” You questioned, brows furrowed slightly in concern.
“No- no I um….i got you a new one” he said sheepishly, walking over to the island and opening up the cupboard beneath you never used.
“Oh- ok..Leveling up are we?” You joked, happily leaning against the counter.
“Jesus-” he chuckled, “Close y’r fuckin eyes- carnival psychic” he teases and you laughed, obliging and closing your eyes.
“Carnival psychic?” you asked and he came over gently putting bundle of fabric in your awaiting hands.
“I swear t’god- you went snoopin’? Open your eyes” he said. You opened your eyes, looking into your hands and seeing an apron. It was white, just like his, and folded perfectly. In thick black letters, intricately painted, ‘ Will You Marry Me? ‘ Adorned with a little red heart over the center pocket that had a square shaped bump.
You felt all of the blood leave your face, your knees feeling wobbly, your mouth gaping in to an O shape, as you stare down at the apron. “Where did you get this?” you whispered, completely awestruck.
“I-I…um…made it?” he rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “I- shit. Fuck- is this not how you pictured it? I’m so fuckin sorry babe- I-I thought…I dunno- like.. You wanted it private? Cause I know you said you’d never-” he’s interrupted by your lips crashing on his in a fervent wanting kiss, a mix of spit and teeth and lips and tongues, he moans softly into your mouth, squeezing your waist.
You were pressed together so firmly that the small box dug into your ribs, eventually pulling away from him with shaking hands and reaching into the pocket, pulling out the small black velvet box. You ever so carefully opened it, your breath catching in your throat when you saw the absolutely breathtaking ring.
“I-it’s not uh..not a diamond- cause I know you said-” you interrupt him
“Princesses and Queens don’t wear diamonds, they wear crystals” you finished, staring at the beautifully cut opal, at least 8 carats, banded by a intricate edwardian band… nothing short of a ring for a Goddess.
“But..But- this one…it does- it has both…because uh” he swallows thickly. “It…in my mind- when I s-saw it, it represented your soul, and your physical body.. And I liked that. Cause- y’re my diamond, but you’re also my queen, my everything, baby. Like how - how you said that…you wished your aura was opal? It is. It is, angel. And every time you look at that, I want you to remember that you’re beautiful from your diamond exterior, to your opal soul” he brushed his finger over the ring, before meeting your gaze once again.
He gently wiped the tears that were running down your cheeks freely, hot and wet and open. It was rare that Carmy genuinely used his words rather then his actions to express his love for you, so you were nothing short of savoring this. “Holy fucking shit” you laughed, shaking your head and looking down at the ring box. “Put it on my hand” you held your left hand out.
He chuckled a bit, “so… yes? You will?” he asked carefully, pulling the ring out of the box.
“Are you kidding, YES! Put this ring on my finger and fuck me dumb- this is all i’ve ever wanted, Bear, I fucking love you- and youre asking if I want you to be my husband?! I’ve wanted nothing more for two years- at least!” you shake your left hand for emphasis, a wide large grin on your face.
He carefully slid the ring over your manicured finger, and it just made you cry more how it fit perfectly. “How do you know my size?!” you asked, since most of the vintage rings he'd bought you were adjustable so it didn't matter the size of the rings he’d gotten for you before.
He chuckled a bit, “so- y’re ring…y’know the one…y’thought you lost it at Chipotle like…ahhh- 8 months ago now? In the bathroom? Y’took it off at the table, you wore it on your ring finger so I had to take my chance. You kept sayin how it was like- the only ring you’d found that fit without takin’ it to the jewler. So uh” he dug in his jeans pocket, placing your beloved vintage ring with your starsign on it in your palm.
“I got that ring, based on the size. I got it uhhh…sorry dont be offended- it’s not new… I got it at an estate sale of this lady- it was crazy- the way I came across it babe… like fate. It was when Syd and I went to New York for that interview, she literally dragged me to this sale cause she said the lady who died was said to have a bunch of vintage fur and stuff she was looking f’somethin- anyway. We met the lady’s daughter- Stella? I think it was? Doesn’t matter… but she um..said her Ma was some crazy astrology nut, also said she only wore crystals. So I took a look… that was the first box I opened. And y’ring on my pinky, it fit perfect, so I tried it on- it fit like a glove. I’m glad we don't have to size it. Asked her if it was real, she said - her Ma told ‘er some…. Like life coach? Er- astrologer life coach author? Gave it to ‘er on a trip to Jamaica in the 60’s. Told ‘er ‘this ring will someday be worn on a hand proudly as a devotion of true love’- Miss- No! Madame ! Madame Stardust. Nutty name right?” he chuckled a bit.
You smiled proudly at the ring, a devotion of true love indeed. “I think” you turned to the counter, stacking the bowls of vegetables together and putting them in the fridge as you friskily countered “you are not going in to work at all next week- wifes orders” you walked over to him, hips swaying. “And after you fuck me absolutely stupid” you grabbed his collar, pulling him in so your faces were meer inches apart “Oh- and we talk about how this mademe stardust? Confirms that our souls are indeed woven together like a fucking wicker basket” you kiss him roughly, weaving your fingers through his dirty blonde curls and tugging firmly.
He moaned into your mouth, his hands trailing down and squeezing your ass firmly. You hummed in satisfaction, leaning against him and he stumbled back, back, back, pushing the bedroom door open with a squeak. You looked up, Breaking your kiss with wide eyes.
All throughout the bedroom, were printed photos of you and Carmy throughout the years, suspended with clear wire so it was as if the photos were floating midair. You clasp your hands over your mouth, admiring all the hard work and pure thought that had went into the gesture. You looked over all the photos, three years of memories hanging before you like a gallery of love surrounding you, all of your fondest happiest memories at every flicker of your eyes.
“Carmen” you whispered, walking forward and admiring each and every photograph…
He comes behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder.
“Y’know how you said no work next week…” he said softly, kissing up your neck with wet, sexy, open mouthed kisses. “We leave Sunday… F’Cyprus” He said hotly in your ear, his breath tickling your neck causing a moan to escape your lips as he gently lifts your shirt, palming your breast gently.
“Is- is that-” you breathe out
“We’re getting a tour of Aphrodites Baths” he said softly, rolling your taught nipple between his thumb and forefinger.
“Ah- y-you remembered?” you gasped, he let out a soft deep chuckle, Kissing the corner of your mouth and gently laying you down upon the soft sheets of your shared bed.
“I’d have proposed over a year ago- when I got the fuckin’ ring if i coulda gotten us the tour sooner” he muttered into your skin, tugging off your- (his) shirt, leaving supple, gentle kisses over your stomach and up your ribs.
“Mm- are we- can we swim?” I asked hopefully.
He gently wipes your tears away, “No” he said a bit sadly, “We can dip our hands… some asshole ruined swimming for people years ago…before we met…but- we were also gonna Parga Greece, baby. We’re spending 2 days in Cyprus, then flying to Parga on a charter- we can swim, fuck, do whatever in those waters baby. Amidst the Goddess of the Underworld f’five whole days” he smirked and you gasped, as if he’d gotten you the moon on a string.
“The Acheron River?” you whisper and he nodded, gently rubbing his thumb over your lips.
“That is the sexiest thing i’ve ever heard in my life- you’re gonna make me cum in the 2nd most famous river of Hell?” you giggled and he snorts a laugh, pushing you on the bed gently.
“Fuck yeah, you little fuckin’ freak” he teased, tugging off your panties and sweatpants in one swift pull, leaving you soaked and bare before him.
You gasped at the rough action, quickly being soothed by soft, sweet kisses over your hipbones.
“I fuckin smell y’kitten fuck” he growled, kissing the inner of your thigh in the way that made you creen.
“Shit- good- right? If y’compared me to a seafood market i’d break your nose” you teased, hooking the crooks of your knees over his shoulders, shivering when he leaned in closer, his hot breath directly over your clit- his lapis blue eyes boring into yours.
“That question doesn’t deserve an answer” he grumbled hotly, spreading your folds with his fingers and admiring the wet, slick, mess in front of him. “S’fuckin pretty princess- fuckin’ prettiest pussy in the world” he nearly moaned, burrying his mouth where you needed him most, eyes fixed on yours.
You couldn’t even make a sound- a hot breathy gasp escaping your slack-jawed stance as your head flopped back on the mattress with a soft bounce. “Mmmmm shit” Carmy hummed, satisfied with your taste as if he was devouring his favorite dessert.
“F-Ffuuuckkk” you whimpered out pathetically, voice cracking and bleeding out between the fracture lines of your hot intense pleasure.
“Mmhmm-mmmhmmm” Carmy mumbled confidently against your now firm clit, tongue flicking over it at a mind-numbing pace, bringing you right to the edge and hanging you there by a single finger.
“Ahhhh-Ahhhh-Fuck!! Carmy! Oh- ohhhh!!!” You whined, spine pointing in an arch off the mattress, your hips and thighs quivering and shaking wildly as your orgasm crashed over you like hot lightning before you could even warn him, or know yourself it was so close.
“Goooood girl, thats it- mm- my good fuckin’ girl- Y’gonna be my fuckin’ wife baby? Mmm? Gonna be mine? F’rever?” He grumbled, placing a gentle kiss to your clit before placing gentle yet firm pressure over it with the pad of his tongue that made your hips buck with a mind of their own.
He chuckled slightly into your heat, the vibration causing you to whine pathetically. “Y-yes-yes-fuck i’mfuckinyoursBear-y’gonnamakemey’wife? Yeah? Gonna make me Mrs. fuckin Carmen Berzatto?” you slurred, pulling him into a messy wanting kiss, soughing at the flavor of your core coating his spit.
“Fuckin- spit in my fucking mouth- claim me” you groaned. He smiled against your lips, pulling away slightly, a thick hot string of saliva connecting the two of you.
“So fuckin dirty” he grumbled with a smirk “Open that filthy fucking mouth” he ordered, getting quiet for a moment as he gathered saliva in the front of his mouth.
You obeyed him immediately - your jaw going slack, tongue stuck out ever so slightly and eyes fluttered shut. Then- you felt it, hot, sweet, salty saliva coating your tongue, you groan at the flavor as it continues pooling over your tastebuds. “Do not fucking swallow yet- greedy girl” he tapped your chin firmly, before pulling your jaw open wider with Tthe pad of his thumb.
“Stick out that pretty little tongue” he grumbled, you obeyed with a smile, opening wide as you could, sticking your tongue out far, showing off the creamy white saliva he’d dressed your tongue in, so much it was seeping down onto your chin, threatening to coat the front and back of your throat.
“Good girl- that's my good little kitten” he purred, “How d’you want me princess?” he gently collected the excess saliva from your chin on his thumb, sucking it off his digit hotly as he awaits your response while you swallow gratefully, the taste setting your soul ablaze.
“I want you to fucking claim me, Carmy, holy fuck- use me, worship me, fuck me like a goddamn animal- whatever you fucking want- please” you begged after you’d savored the taste while you swallowed, his sky blue eyes going dark as navy slacks with lust at the admission.
“Yeah? Why not all three?” he pushed you down to the mattress by your throat, not hard enough to bruise- but hard enough for the breath to leave your lungs and your core to throb so hard you were clenching your thighs, trying to give any solace of pressure to your swollen aching clit.
“P-please” you stuttered, writhing against the mattress and he chuckled darkly.
“Are we a little needy? Mmm princess?” he pushes your knees apart with his thigh, aiding the throbbing pressure with his strong fingers, rubbing firm, slow circles into the twitching bud that made your hips snap into the mattress and head fall back to the bed, eyes rolling back with a sharp gasp of pleasure.
“Pl-please-” you gasp out, spine arching sharply as he replaced his fingers with his mouth on your clit, 2 fingers slipping inside of you with no resistance due to the fact your core was so soaked it was beginning to pool at the dip of your bum and soak the sheets. The squelching as he pumped into your g-spot mixed with your high-pitched moans and frisky growls was absolute sin.
He opens his jaw wider, tonguing your entrance wildly and nuzzling his strong nose against your clit in broad strokes, randomly flicking back and forth quickly making you squeal in pleasure as you grind against his mouth, fully out of control of your movements as if you were a puppet on a string.
“H-Hooooo-i’m cumming- oh- don’t you dare fucking stop Carmen” you growled, grabbing his curls and pullinghim further into your core. “I’m cumming- i’mcumming-holy-holyfuck-imfuuuckiing-AAAH!” your thighs and hips shake and quiver, stars of ethereal white filling your vision.
“Mmhmmm” he grumbled, coming up and sucking your nipple with his slick lips, his chin and nose soaked with your arousal, so much so his chin dripped onto your ribs.
“H-Oh-yes Bear” you whined out, head tilting to meet his gaze. “I need you- I-I need you inside- like- fuck- when you- you have my knees around your hips and y-you fuckin’- just drill me Carmy- I need that- need you deep” You reverberated wantingly, wrapping your thighs around his waist taughtly, making it easier for him to take you exactly how you wanted.
“Jesus Christ- I can’t fuckin’ stand y’baby. Y’re like a fuckin’ drug- it’s like I fuckin’ function unless I’ve had a hit” he nibbed your collarbone, quickly removing his jeans and boxers, aligning himself with your entrance.
You gave him a mischievous smile, inching your hips forward. “C’mon- I don’t give a fuck ‘bout cooking right now- fuck me absolutely dumb- then take me to Sam’s f’r chocolate chip pancakes- sure that waitress will be over the moon bout my ring” you mused, capturing our lips together, as he scoops up your shoulders and holds you chest to chest, your third of many orgasms that night building throughout every muscle.
It was going to be a long night….
#carmen berzatto#the bear fx#carmy berzatto#the bear fic#the bear hulu#carmen berzatto fanfiction#carmy berzatto fanfiction#the bear#the bear fanfiction#carmen berzatto fluff#carmy the bear#carmy berzatto x reader#carmy x reader#carmen x reader#carmen berzatto smut#carmen berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto x you#the bear fandom#borders & banners by saradika
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TWST Boys as ✨ PARENTS✨(Part 3)
ft:Pomefiore, Ignihyde | pt.1 ; Heartsabyul & Savanaclaw | pt.2 ; Octavinelle & Scarabia | pt. 4; ft.Diasomnia
TW: kids, pregnancy, reader is depicted as female, domestic, fluff
Vil Schoenheit-
1 kid, he originally didn't desire kids because of his career but he changed his mind seeing how you seemed to really want children and he remembered that if his father was able to give him such amazing childhood memories with his career then he could too. Your child is extremely smart like their father. They are very beautiful but unlike their father they're not afraid to get dirty. Eventually they developed a love for gardening; it might not have been their only hobby but it's their favorite. Vil may not be a fan of getting dirty if it makes his kid happy he's happy! Just don't think he'll join the 2 of you. I heavily believe he could father either gender but I'm thinking a gorgeous little girl.
Rook Hunt-
12 kids, he's raising an entire football(soccer) team. He just can't help it, your pregnant image makes him feel aroused. So you pop out your own little team. You kids are super sneaky, even as babies they were able to sneak up on you. They all are suburb archers and could hit anyone in a 9 mile radius. The football(soccer) reference I made is ironic because I heavily believe your first and last kids both play football. Rook is such a proud dad, his kids could do anything and he's give them the ultimate praise, he never let's them forget how amazing they are. He is a parent that can find any excuse for his prefect children, because they can do no wrong. Except disrespect you, bc as their mother you gave birth to them, gave them life, and do your best to take care of them; so respecting you is no debate. You guys also have a family tradition of archery tag to start off the summer every year.
Epel Felmier-
6 kids, your kids have the most beautiful looks, just absolutely gorgeous. They are also extremely competitive, on the farm when it comes to chores they always try to finish first, and once you and Epel figure it out did you tell them they don't need to rush just to beat someone? Nah you two just decided whoever finishes first gets the most allowance, it may sound bad but it gets work done and those kids now can finish any work in record time!! Your kids are very adventurous and lucky for them dear old dad is always willing to support their curiosity. He never lets his kids doubt themselves, he teaches them to be proud yet not too proud. He is the best father to his kids. I also have a feeling the whole family has a competion around apple picking season, whoever gets the most wins, the prixe changes every year.
Idia Shroud-
2 kids, who are absolutely extroverts, loving talking and hanging out with people, everyone loves them. Idia doesn't know how them became such extroverts but he loves them anyway. He may not like human interaction much but he loves spending time he can with his kids. If there is something him and his kids is there love for video games, every Friday they have tournaments to se who wins. You join in as well; your little family loves these games because you get to be together. In terms of girl or boy dad, the 2 of you have 2 boys!(Bonus: If you don't want to name them Castor and Pollux he probably nicknames them that <3!!; and yes they are Gemini's)
Poméfiore Masterlist
Ignihyde Masterlist
Twst Masterlist
#twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland x reader#twst#twst x reader#fluff#vil schoenheit x reader#vil schoenheit#rook hunt#rook hunt x reader#epel felmier x reader#epel felmier#idia shroud#idia shroud X reader#domestic#tw babies#babies
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Till - An Alien Stage analysis
Vivinos just dropped the teaser for Round 6. And after watching it a couple of times, I feel like I can finally understand why people were telling that this round is potentially the most emotional one yet.
So here are my thought about Till as a character, and what we might expect from him in the upcoming Round.
But before you go on and start reading, I want to make two quick disclaimers:
My native language is not english and sometimes I might make some mistakes, and I'm sorry for that. I'll try to make everything as cohesive as possible on this post so we don't have any miscommunication.
In the analysis, there will be a small mention of suicidal thoughts and a whole section on human experiments. If you're uncomfortable with those topics, please don't continue.
If you're ok with everything, thank you for continuing and I hope you have a good read! (Also, if you want to add something please feel free to chat with me! I love to see more theories and takes on everything)
Let's start this analysis from the very beginning, or at least the first event that we know of in regard of Till: his time at the adoption center.
(Timestamp: 00:22 - 00:24 - Teaser)
From what I gathered, this scene was first seen as a sneak peek from Vivinos' patreon and it's most likely one of, if not the very first time both of them - Till and Ivan - has seen each other.
As a "troubled" kid, it's dificult to catch the eyes of someone and make them willing to have you, and seeing the discounts placed on his captivity window, we can only assume that he stayed in the adoption center for quite a while now. It's no wonder that Till is watching with awe as Ivan is being escorted away: he probably got adopted and is leaving the establishment to live somewhere else, leaving the rest only to hope to be the next chosen one.
We all know that in reality, being adopted by the aliens is not a synonym to having a good life in this scenario. But for a child who has been locked in this tiny room for possibly weeks, still not knowing how society works for them, it's a dream to finally be able to get out and possibly be loved by their adopted "family".
So imagine Till finally getting out of this place, after all he went through there - being rejected, seen as an unwanted individual - only to get trapped in an even worse scenario: Being used as a human experiment.
(Timestamp: 00:06, 00:11, 00:16, 00:19 - Teaser)
We can see those images are depicting something that happened after the adoption center because he's older now. We don't know how much time he had to experience those events, but if we go back to Round 2, there are some instances where he is far younger and can be seen with green stickers similar to the ones on his neck shown in the 4th image.
Not only that, even on his performance on Round 2, we can see them on display. So there is a chance that he had to deal with all of this for years.
Yes, he was not alone during everything, but we don't know what happened to everyone who was in this same scenario. All we know is that the faces seen on the panel during the teaser, was never once seen again.
(Timestamp: 00:19 - Teaser)
It even seems that one has perished in one of the images shown in the teaser. For all we know, everyone but Till might be dead by the time Alien Stage begins for the main cast... And living in fear not knowing if you're going to be the next one to die during an experiment is a really terrifying reality he probably had to face.
And yet, during all that, he even had to go to Anakt garden to train to become a singer, and possibly go to Alien stage.
(Timestamp: 00:57 - Round 2)
At least, somewhere around his time on Anakt garden, he found something worth living for: Mizi.
She became his beacon of light. We don't know what happened but knowing Mizi's character, she has probably shown him what happiness looks like, maybe became the first one to interact with him and show him he's someone. Not a product, not an experiment, but an individual.
And he really wanted to continue having this feeling again. To be happy, just like her, with her. This admiration that flourished from him is most likely what made this crush Till has for her blossom.
It's kind of an unhealthy dependancy if we put the spotlight on this relationship, he would even go as far as refuse to escape from everything with ivan - who is shown to be the only other person who interacts with him, that he considers a friend - and have freedom if she's not present. It's as if he doesn't know if he can truly be happy if she's not around.
I'll make another analysis on Ivan and Till's relationship on the kindergarden once Round 6 goes live. Trust me, if I start talking about them here, I would literally not shut up and the analysis would have another 1000 words.
But for now I really want to emphasize how both are seen as "weirdos", and started talking more because they really only had each other. Despite the differences and the bickering, Till holds Ivan close to him as well.
(Timestamp: 00:19 - Teaser)
And now, We're on Round 6: Where Till has nothing to fight for.
His whole life was purely a tragedy - he had seen and experienced some of the worst things that a human could go through in this world, and despite trying his best to fight against all odds, he's back on square one. He's been defeated.
Mizi is missing, and in his eyes, possibly dead. And now he is going against his childhood friend, literally the only person he has left, on a battle where he knows and only one will get out alive. I won't be surprised if in the beginning he'll be willing to sacrifice himself for Ivan to win and live.
Through the whole teaser, the voice singing in the background is muffled. Till is so out of it that he's not able to realize what's going on, even the shots he's in is in pure black, as if nothing around him matters anymore to him. That is, until the voice in the end gets clearer and we can finally see the stage for the Round.
Can't wait to see what we have in store on April 5th. My theory is that this might be a 2 pov video, and later we'll get to know more about Ivan's take on everything. Specially because finally he might be able to make Till see him for once.
Who's going to die? I hope no one. But we're talking about Vivinos... We can expect anything on this project. All I know is that I might die if we get some parallel to the meteor shower scene shown in black sorrow.
#alien stage#alien stage till#alien stage ivan#alien stage mizi#vivinos#I am so normal about Till yall#I might die of anticipation before round 6 airs
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Hello there,I am a new follower and I'm just wondering if your comfortable to write a Yandere platonic royal family and a male y/n, only if you're comfortable i don't wanna pressure you
Imagine - Yandere Royal Family
Hi! Yeah, that’s totally fine!
Yandere Royal Family with a Male kid
Warnings: Overprotectiveness, coddling behavior, manipulation, familial hatred
You are the youngest son of the royal family, consisting of your Mother, Father, Older Sister, and Brother. You’re the baby, the one who can do no wrong, Mama's boy, the one who has to be protected at all costs. Your Older Brother doesn’t need to worry about fighting over the throne with you, and he’d never dream of it! You’re too pathetic and sweet!
…Right?
Yandere Princess Sister who’s the first to notice your sudden…”everything” change over the years. You’re quieter, you don’t play as much and you’ve started to distance yourself. You’re rude to her. Rude. You hate playing dress up and being cooed at by her and her friends during teatime. You’re usually the first to finish dinner and you quickly excuse yourself and hide in your room.
Yandere Prince Brother who’s the second to notice. He doesn’t interact with you much since he’s busy learning how to be king for when he eventually takes your father’s place, but he has made time to hang out with you when he can. No- you cannot spar with him. Mom and Dad don’t want you to hurt yourself anyway. Why don’t we read a story instead? No? You used to love it when he read you stories- where is this coming from?
He feels worried when you storm out of the room.
Yandere Empress Mother who’s the third to notice. You don’t join her for tea or walks in the garden. You don’t sit with her in her office, talking to her about what you did today. Sure, it was usually repetitive, the same old “I read a new book and saw a pretty bird from the window,” but she didn’t mind. You don’t tell her your wishes or troubles anymore.
You want to learn how to sword fight? No, absolutely not, you don’t need to learn how to fight at all. You’re safe here, anyway. No, you can’t go out into town without your guards. I don’t care if your Sister only has one, she’s much older than you. What do you want to go into town for? I’ll place an order for you. You want to go outside without me, your Older Sister, or Your Older Brother? I’ll have your guards go with you, then.
Yandere Empress Mother who simply wants the best for you and wants you to be safe. If you won’t come to her, she’ll come to you. She’s surprised when your answers are short. “Why haven’t you been spending time with me anymore?” “Is it true that you’re being rude to your siblings?” “Sword fighting? Again? No, you can’t. Your father and I don’t want you to get hurt. …Did you just tell me to get out?”
After you slam the door shut, she stands there in a stunned silence. Did that really just happen? She has to process for a long time.
She takes a deep breath before heading off to speak with your father.
With your Sister and Brother.
Yandere Emperor Father who does a double take at what he’s been told. Was this really you they were talking about? He immediately demands an audience with you. Unfortunately, he’s not gentle like your mother and siblings. He immediately asks you if what the rest of your family said is true, and like the good child you are, you admit to it. He can’t help but feel a little happy and proud about that- you coming clean. It goes away when it’s clear that you aren’t sorry.
“Why have you been acting this way? Don’t give me that, you’re still a child. Stop talking back to me. Don’t argue with me. When did you become so disrespectful? No, you’re not a prisoner, that’s ridiculous! We all love you and care about you very much. You don’t understand how devastated we’d feel if you got hurt. We just want what’s best for you, you’re too young to understand. Didn’t I tell you to stop talking back to me?”
Yandere Emperor Father who confines you to your room for a month. It’s a hard decision for him to make- he hates having to punish any of his children. Meals are brought to you and you’re allowed to leave to use the bathroom, but the servants aren’t allowed to speak with you.
Only your family can.
It’s mostly your siblings and your mother, who you turn away each time. Rarely does your father stop by, lecturing you and trying to get you to see reason. When you don’t, he sighs and adds another month to your punishment time. Unbeknownst to all of them, you have a plan.
Yandere Royal Family who nearly died on the spot when you’re not in your room. Your older brother is the one to discover you’re missing. It went like this: He “found” your favorite childhood storybook in his room. He had read you the stories so many times he had them all memorized. He felt a bit guilty for hiding it all those years ago, seeing that sad expression on your little face. But he made it up to you by telling you a story before bed. You didn’t need the book anymore, after all. You need him.
He thought it’d make you feel better. Imagine his horror when he sees the makeshift rope of the blanket and bedsheets in the open window. Imagine everyone else’s surprise when they hear him shouting frantically. When they see him running through the hallways screaming about how you’re gone.
Several search parties are sent out, your family counting the seconds and trying to stay calm. Their panic worsens when you’re missing for days. Where did you go?! Why did you run away?! Did you run away? Did someone take you? That can’t be possible, you don’t know anyone except your family. Because they’re all you need.
When you’re found, you’re dragged back kicking and screaming. At first your family is worried, thinking you’re shouting because you’re injured. But no, it’s because you don’t want to be locked up again. Especially with them. They don’t notice some of the pitying looks you get, especially from a certain guard.
The guard who they didn’t know let you escape.
They’re too relieved to be angry at you for long, and your punishment terms have changed.
You have to stay right by their side for the day. Yes, and night, too. Isn’t that fun, though? You can watch your brother swordfight, dress up with your sister (you look amazing, by the way), talk to your mother and father while they work, and have sleepovers…
You spent the day with your brother today. With a loving smile and a kiss to your temple, he wishes you goodnight and closes your eyes.
Not noticing that you stayed up a bit longer, eyeing his sword on the rack.
-
Wuh-woh, looks like Reader’s getting other ideas on how to get out. This was interesting to write! Thank you all for the love so far! I’ll try to update once a day, I don’t really have a schedule for my posts.
#yandere#platonic#platonic yandere#platonic yandere family#yandere emperor#yandere emperor dad#yandere empress#yandere empress mom#yandere brother#yandere prince brother#yandere prince#yandere princess#yandere sister#yandere princess sister#yandere dad#yandere mom#yandere imagine#Got Chant vibes from Hadestown writing this#yandere royalty#platonic yandere royalty#criticism welcome and appreciated
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Happy lovers season Shana! I'm very excited for the upcoming prompts! 😀 Can I please request some more Enola Holmes or Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries? 💚 If not please feel free to do a dealer's choice. I love all that you write and it fills me with joy to see new updates from you 😊
set in the same universe as Here is Your Home Country
Dot doesn’t want a big wedding, doesn’t want a lot of fuss. Married at her church, and then Prudence has offered to have the reception in her garden. Probably more at Jane’s insistence than anything else, but considering Mr. Butler has already insisted on handling the catering and logistics and anything else she might need assistance with, she might as well.
It’s sweet of him, really. She knows that he’s worried about her sisters that disapprove and her mother that disapproves and her brothers that had been apocalyptic at the news, and how that means she’ll be planning this wedding without them. She’s not worried. They’d never cared about her life or her happiness until it was something that would embarrass them.
The less said about what her friends from church think, the better. But she hasn’t headed their gossip for years, not since she started working for Miss Fisher.
Jack’s a good man and doesn’t deserve their ire. She won’t tolerate it.
~
“You’re really doing it, huh?”
Dot looks up and feels first pleasure then wariness that settles on a gut rolling mixture of the two. “Hello, Nell.”
Her older sister is standing over her, blocking her light, but she just closes her notebook and uses her foot to nudge the chair opposite her. The waiter should be by again soon.
She looks different out of the heavy makeup and light clothes of the club. Wearing a sweater and long skirt, she looks like the sister Dot remembers. “Mum called me. Me.”
Dot winces. “You’re invited, of course, I just wasn’t sure where to send the invite.”
Nell leans back in her chair, raising an eyebrow and reaching into her purse for a cigarette. Dot wishes she wouldn’t. She hates the smell. “I didn’t really get that impression from you two.”
“We were just colleagues then,” she says, which isn’t completely accurate, but neither is friends. Or perhaps it is. They knew one another then, and respected each other, and were kind to one another. But she’d had Hugh, and Jack’s eyes had been on Miss Fisher, and – they hadn’t known, then, where they would end up.
It’s nice.
She knew him and liked him and cared about him before she loved him. It makes her feel like she can trust him, that he won’t surprise her in a way she doesn’t like.
Nell hums, then says, “She wants to know if you’re having money troubles.”
Dot stares, wishing she knew her mother a little less well and didn’t understand exactly what she was saying. “She thinks I’m marrying Jack for his money because I have gambling debts?”
She shrugs. “You know what she sees at the church.”
She’s not going to get angry. Getting angry won’t do her any good. “I’m marrying him because I love him.”
“You loved Hugh,” she says. “He was cute. Your age. He even converted.”
Part of her wonders who was keeping Nell updated on the gossip of her life. The rest of her doesn’t care. “He didn’t love me right.”
“There’s a wrong way?” she asks, too lightly.
“Yes,” she says, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from scowling. “And I can’t love anyone right who loves me wrong. Hugh and I would have been miserable, in the end. We were in love with people that didn’t exist.”
She’d wanted someone who would love her through all of her changes.
Hugh had wanted someone who would never change.
Even in her bitterest moments, she can’t truly blame him. She had been a static woman when they’d met. She was the one that changed and she was the one that had wanted someone who would love her anyway and she was the one that had ended their engagement when she’d realized that someone wasn’t him.
Nell leans forward to steal her half-drunk cup of coffee, leaning back as she gulps it down in three long swallows. “Okay. I’ll tell Mum to back off, yeah? Not that it’ll do any good. She never listens to me anyway.”
“Oh,” Dot says, startled, and then Nell is getting to her feet and waving as she melts back into the crowd of the street.
~
Bert and Cec are in their room, sleeping after working through the night. Jack is over, but he’s never not known, and these days they don’t even bother to shove their twin beds apart when he's here.
She’s seated on her knees at the coffee table, Jack sitting behind her on the couch, nose buried in a case file that she’s going to look over herself as soon as she figures out this seating chart.
Jack clears his throat and she leans back, pressing her back to his knees and looking up. The file has been discarded and he’s looking at her with a sort of warm softness that has her reaching out her hand and letting him haul her upright just enough so that she can fall into his lap, seated sideways so her legs are stretched out over the couch.
His arms come around her waist and his lips quirk up in an almost smile. She smooths out the line between his eyebrows with her thumb, almost asks, but know it’s a waste when he’s nearly there already.
Sure enough, he looks at the space over her head and asks, “Do you want us to get a new house?”
She blinks. She hadn’t considered it, really, had assumed that she’d move into the house Jack has now. She’s been there. It’s a very nice house. A little empty feeling, perhaps, but she figured they’d solve that quickly enough. Instead of saying any of that, she asks, “Do you want me to want us to get a new house?”
He looks at her then, exasperated, and she smiles, shifting her hand lower to trace his bottom lip. He licks his lips, his tongue barely brushing her fingertip, and her breath hitches, but he says, “Rosie picked it.”
It makes sense that his first wife helped pick the house, and Dot has never tiptoed her way around Rosie, but that’s not quite what he’s saying.
Rosie picked it.
“Do you like it?” she asks.
Jack shrugs, looking away from her again. “She made a good choice.”
“Yes,” Dot agrees. It really is a very nice house, in a good area. “But do you like it?”
He shifts beneath her, meeting her gaze when he admits, “I let her pick what she wanted. I thought things would be okay, if I could give her what she wanted.”
And now it reminds him of how much that didn’t work, how she left that house and him both. He’d offered her the house in the divorce, but she hadn’t wanted it, for her own reasons.
“Why don’t we pick something we both want?” she asks, because no matter how nice the house is, she doesn’t want what he doesn’t’. “I bet Mac has some good leads on houses that are going to be on the market. She knows so many useful things like that.”
“Yeah?” he asks, relief making his whole body relax even as his arms tighten, tugging her that much closer against him.
“Yeah,” she echoes, then dips down her head for a kiss he’s eager to give her.
#prompt answers#prompts are closed#asks#solvblad#miss fisher's murder mysteries#mfmm#i'm so glad you asked#dot/jack is my rarepair and i love them
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Daddy Dearest <3
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Girl dad!Leon x Mom!Reader
Blue for Leon pink for reader & purple for D/N
Desc: Despite his career path Leon has been developing pretty well to his girl dad life & revolves entirely around world around his wife & sweet little angel babygirl
Tags: Tooth Aching fluff, Dilf Leon, No smut ‼️‼️‼️, Just dad Leon living his dream! No use of y/n, D/n stands for Daughters Name
I'm very serious with you guys interacting with my writing!!!! it would make me so happy & excited, the more comments & reposts the more inspiration i have to write :) Votes and comments are strongly appreciated!!!
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Leon Loving his life was an understatement, He was a miserable guy not so long ago but it all changed once he met you & had his very first child! Of course after first he was worried about being a deadbeat father, but eventually he suited up and prepared for everything was to come, dropped his drinking habits, went to therapy for most of his trauma from working on the most messed up cases world wide known to mankind & even baby proofing the entire house you two shared for over 4 years.
He even went out of his way to take random target trips with you during your pregnancy to stare at nursery furniture and random trinkets and toys he found, holding up gender neutral baby clothing before knowing the gender & asking “you think this is cute sweetheart?” It was amazing how he became so obsessed with the thought of having his own little family with a white piket fence & beautiful front lawn garden (He started gardening as a coping mechanism which would soon be one of his top hobbies he brought onto his daughter.)
During the gender reveal he was nothing but pure excitement and joy to have a little baby girl that the next day he even went back to target and came home to baby-proof the entire house, testing objects to see if they would fall on a random baby doll etc, so much so that you had to go downstairs at 12 am and force him to take a break and come to bed, “You don’t think she’ll hit her head on the table one day right? I really wouldn’t want my little princess to get hurt” “I think you need to put down the baby proofing tools for the night & actually come to bed hun, it’s almost 1 o’clock”
Some days you would be in pure anguish because D/N would be doing pure gymnastics in your belly that Leon had to ‘have a talk’ but most of the time during your pregnancy he was always talking to your tummy, Asking her to relax on the jumping around in there, Sometimes waking up super early in the morning to talk to your belly & sometimes waking you up & hearing you tell him off a little bit in a muffled voice since you were buried in your body pillow. “Hi babygirl, you excited to get outta there & see your new room? Yeah? Oh I know your excited angel but you can’t keep kicking mama like this sweetheart it hurts her!”, “Can’t keep jumpin’ around in mommy’s belly sweetness your driving her insane sweetheart” “oh yeah!?You excited babydoll?” “Good morning my sweet girl, I can’t wait to see you y’know, mommy & I are so excited to meet you & hold you & love yo-“ “Leon what the hell are you doing awake at 5:30??” “Uh oh I woke up mom” “leon I swear to god if you don’t go back to sleep.”
And then came along the arrival of his awaited babygirl, he was so excited he even set up a little mini red carpet infront of her nursery & stars next to the door & even putting a little sign on your guys’ front door in bold glittery pink ‘Welcome Home Princess D/N” He even brought a little camera to make a home tape for every memory he makes with you & your daughter so when she is finally old enough she can watch, this tape includes her birthing where your shouting & screams could be heard such as “GOD FUCKING DAMNIT LEON!!” “I’M GONNA KILL YOU IN YOUR FUCKING SLEEP!”& his light crying of when she was born
After your daughter was born it was extremely difficult for you two to set a fair sleep schedule so for the first few weeks Leon would wake up at 2:30 AM whenever D/N was crying on the baby monitor and move the rocking chair placed in her room right next to the crib “What’s the matter sweetness? Can’t sleep again? I know babygirl it must be so tough trying to get your little beauty sleep huh?” He would slip his hand through the little bars of the crib and smile giddily every time she would wrap her little hand around his thumb, growing up was the most difficult for him, he cried every-time his sweet angel took her first steps, said her first word which was obviously a strained “da-da” which was to be expected since D/N was a total daddy’s girl. most of the time when he was off he would let you go to work so he could spend his days with your guys’ daughter, take her to the petting zoo, a random aquarium where she discovered her favorite animal was a sea horse, Leon’s entire existence revolved around D/N to the point where if her little fist was directed at something she wanted he bought it, she starts crying? He jumps right up to take her off your hands so you can relax, his entire world was revolving around her & you loved to see it, sometimes when you got home from work you’d see Leon on the living room floor with your daughter as she babbled playing with a random stuffed animal monkey “Hi honey, Took her to the petting zoo today, we discovered she really loves monkeys”
Some mornings when you would all sit at the table eating before the day started Leon would watch her in her high chair chew on whatever she had in-front of her causing a small mess where he would chuckle & clean up after her “Your just one messy little girl huh princess? Gonna have to teach you manners now little lady.” And then came the day where she got her very first booboo, I’m sure you can imagine what happened, Little D/N was running around the backyard chasing a butterfly while you & Leon just finished harvesting this falls apples and then randomly you heard a tiny little wail behind you causing Leon to jump up from the ground and scoop up his baby girl “Baby she has a cut on her knee we need to take her to the hospital now! Get in the car!” “Honey I think she’s alright nothing a little rubbing alcohol & a band aid can’t fix.” When the two of you went inside and into the bathroom he sat on the edge of the bath tub and sat little D/N on his knee while you rubbed some alcohol on her knee which reasonably made her wail out more than she did beforehand causing Leon to start tearing up and kissing the top of her head “I know angel I know it hurts but we can’t let your lil’ booboo get worse & nasty now can we?” Once you finished that 1 minute of anguish you two sat in the living room holding her close as you slightly teased Leon for his light crying “You love making daddy cry now don’t you honey? You know you have him tied up around your little finger huh” You joked while Leon grunted while worryingly making sure she didn’t hurt herself again
One day you caught him in her room when she was around 4 years old having a little tea party, he was sat in a chair next to her that was far to tiny for him to fit in as he wore a pink tiara around his head that was again to tiny for him & a pink fluffy tutu around his waist while fake sipping tea from the tea cup while causing her to giggle, You had just gotten home from work & leaned against the doorway smiling and holding in a laugh but Leon smiled back and stood up and had the tiny chair stuck on his ass causing you & D/N to laugh obnoxiously especially after he eventually was able to pull it off and walk over to you mumbling “shut up.” Before kissing you lightly & asking how your day went. Obviously because of his career he had to miss some important events at school for D/N and he felt AWFUL. He cried in your arms one night after returning from a 1 week trip where he missed father daughter school day where he imagined his poor babygirl sitting at her table in kindergarten watching everyone else with their dad while she had a confused expression. And every single night after that for a month straight he would have little sleepovers in her room where he read her bedtime stories, you know that one 3 little kitties book from despicable me? He obviously read that to her with the brightest smile on his face and once it was time for bed her would sleep on the floor right next to her toddler bed “Goodnight babygirl, daddy loves you so so much y’know that? You got his heart right in your little fist”
By the time she was 10 he was always helping her with school projects & homework & even going to father daughter dances with her, if
D/N wanted something all she had to do was ask and bat her little lashes, some days when he went to go pick her up from school with you in the car he would see her talking to a boy before running off to the car leaving him with a puzzled face “who the hell is that little twerp near my daughter? She does know he is not good enough for her right?” “Nuh-uh Leon, Don’t start let her have friend alright?” “Sweetheart just look at the little shit! He’s practically blushing looking at her right now!” “Oh stop it.”
Just imagine what it would be like when D/N is finally a teenager and brings a boy home for the first time..Leon makes it VERY clear nobody is good enough for his little girl & never will be, he is the entire reason why her standards will be extremely high…
xtripleiiix’s Masterlist
🏷️ List: @ginswife @coolpastelartshoe @greatkoalawizard @cokolin044 @kotoriarlert
#leon s kennedy rp#leon s kennedy fanfiction#leon kennedy x reader#leon kennedy fluff#dad!leon kennedy#girl dad!leon kennedy#god fucking help me#i made this
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sleepyhead (Alexia Putellas x Reader)
(gif not mine)
Alexia Putellas Everybody knew her, especially in the women's football world, La Reina. if you knew her you knew that she we closed off and very private, even when she was around the people she most cared about they never really saw her show her true emotions, the only people she showed her emotions to was her girlfriend of 3 years, me and today that was going to change.
it had been a couple of weeks since Alexia had been on the pitch since her ACL and everyone had noticed how happy she had become and even how happy everyone in the team became even the staff.
we had just had a rough day in training and everyone was tired out, everyone was planning on coming to yours and Alexia's house for a little get-together since it was so nice out.
both you and Alexia had made it home and Nala had come in running glad to see us after a long day.
"hey chica" you said picking up the dog and kissing her head.
"you okay ale," you asked her
as she didn't make a fuss over Nala like she normally did and instead she went and grabbed a bottle of water.
"yeah just really tired I guess, long day" she said.
"if you want to cancel tonight then say so" you said but she shook her head and said "No it's fine I'm gonna take a nap let me know when everyone is here"
you nodded and she walked passed me giving me a kiss on my lips and then walked up the stair to bed Nala following closely behind her.
you slowly started to clean and get everything ready for the girls to come around, it only took two hours before knocks on the doors and people walking in and making their way into the garden.
once everyone was here and with a drink in their hands people started asking questions about where Alexia and Nala were, you got off the sofa and went upstairs to go and grab her. you walked into the dark room and there wasn't a noise except the fan that was on.
you walked towards the bed and laid down next to Alexia who was still fast asleep. Nala came and sat on my lap.
"hey baby" I said moving the hair out of her face. she hummed and moved around a bit getting comfy again.
"Everyone is here if you want to come down we are going to order some pizza," you said and she nodded, you kissed her head and walked back out of the room and downstairs.
"she awake" Mapi said
"yeah shall be done in a minute pizza has been ordered," you asked and they nodded.
you all sat down and continued talking and Nala came running outside barking happy to see all the girls here, and slowly after Alexia came down wrapped in a blanket and sat next to me.
"look who decided to wake up" Mapi said teasing her.
she pulled her middle finger up at Mapi and snuggled up to me. you put your hand on her forehead but there was no sign of her being sick.
"When will pizza be here," Ale asked.
"not long hopefully you hungry" you asked and she nodded snuggling into me even more.
as we all talked and started to play some board game the pizza came, you stood up to answer the door which Lex wasn't too pleased about you got the pizzas and came back out and everyone started eating and Alexa sat in between my legs eating her food quietly.
"you okay," you asked her and she nodded with a smile on her face kissing you on the lips and going back to eat.
after eating me and Ingrid were putting all the boxes in the kitchen and putting leftovers in containers.
"is Alexia okay I've never seen her like this," she asked.
"yeah I think she's just so exhausted with training and then media with coming back from her injury it took a lot out of her," you said.
"yeah iver never seen her cling to you like that" she said.
"yeah you can tell she is tired thank god tomorrow is a day off" you said.
for the rest of the night you all participated in games and by 11 o'clock, everyone was home and you and Alexia were in bed fast asleep leaving all the cleaning for tomorrow.
#women football#woso community#woso imagine#alexia putellas x reader#alexia putellas#mapi león#barca femini#fc barcelona#claudia pina#alexia putellas segura#alexia putellas imagine#alexia putellas one shot#fcb femeni#barcelona femeni#patri guijarro#espwnt#ingrid engen
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