pinchofhoney - Tumblr blog

[pinchofhoney]

thank you for including me here!! i’m glad you enjoyed my story!<33

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ.

「 ✦ moon knight boys ✦ 」

╰┈➤ 18+ none of these stories belong to me! this is a masterlist of all moon knight boys stories i’ve read and reblogged! just thought it would be nice to have them all in one spot! (if your fic is on here and you wish not to be, please let me know!) some will have summaries if provided <3

┌──────────────────┐

MASTERLIST ✩ OSCAR ISAAC CHARACTERS ✩ 4/18/24

★ @mgparker

☼ comeback to me

☾Mark leaves on a mission for Khonshu while you deal with a confrontation of your own. Unfortunately, this particular foe is aware of your specific skill set and uses your weakest spot to deliver a fatal wound. Laying there defenseless and abandoned, your final desire is to speak to the love of your life one last time.

☼ should’ve listened

☾ your tendency to put your loved ones above you puts you in what would’ve been a deadly situation, had you not been an avatar of the goddess of the sun.

★ @starryevermore

☼ more hearts than mine

☾ marc and jake have made it clear that they don’t like you. but your heart is not the only one being broken by their actions and the consequences that follow. 

☼ not what he thinks pt2

☾ steven overhears something, but he doesn’t understand what he heard. 

★ @spacecowboyhotch

☼ proper date

☾ steven gains some knowledge about how he and reader met…and some about himself.

☼ the honey girl

☾ sometimes the meddling of old men pays off.

☼ unlikely

☾ a look into how marc and reader met.

★ @moonlight-prose

☼ kiss me once

☾ dating steven grant came with its challenges. between being a superhero, sharing the body with a man you hardly knew, and his forgetfulness, you felt dizzy. so when your date goes awry, you take matters into your own hands.

★ @loud-mouth-loser

☼ not him

☾ you’ve been steven’s best friend for a while and have had a crush on him as long as you’ve known him. unfortunately, his eyes are on layla, his alter’s wife. let's just say, you’re not the only one put off by this. this is a story of how you and marc bond over your sorrows

★ @sarahghetti

☼ can you pretend to be my boyfriend

☾ the boys pretend to be your boyfriend in order to save you from a creepy stranger.

★ @popquizhot-shot

☼ magic

☾ you were married to Jake and after the events of moonknight, the boys get to know of jake and of you. Steven adores you but Marc just sees you as a friend. Right?

★ @runa-falls

☼ reciprocation2 pt 3

☼ request

★ @soft-girl-musings

☼ salt and pepper

☾ Marc, are you familiar with the term "silver fox"?

★ @romanarose

☼ misunderstanding

☾ When the boys come home early and see boxes all packed and furniture on the street, Marc jumps to the worst option. Clearly, you're leaving him.

★ @primosworld

☼ blueberry pancakes

☾ You’re frustrated with Jake not being apart of your relationship so you take matters into your own hands.

★ @projectionistwrites

☼ imploding the mirage

☾ You’ve been escaping into yourself more and more often, and the boys are starting to notice. How are you supposed to explain to them that you don’t want to live in the moment, when the version of your life inside your head is so much better than reality on the outside?

★ @heartthrobin

☼ press your tulips to mine

☾ Steven's apartment has become overrun with more bouquets of flowers than any one man could ever find use for, but they would continue to pile up as long as the pretty girl at the flower shop continued to melt him with that syrupy smile each time he walked in.

☼ my bleeding dream, my shadow in the light

☾ you were convinced, no: you were sure, that Jake Lockley couldn't stand the sight of you. then why was he consistently banging at your door in the middle of the night, dripping in blood and begging to be stitched up?

★ @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

☼ what you like

☾ Marc gets in his head about being with you, Steven talks him through it.

☼ embrace

☾ The reader is dating them but is kind of scared of Jake (is very quiet and weary around him, doesn't like his physical touch) because he was cold and mean to her when they first met (he wanted to "protect" Steven) but now all he wants is to hold and love her. The opportunity finally arrives when she's sick and needs his help. (He forcefully fronts bc he's not letting this opportunity go to waste)

★ @bibli0thecary

☼ in the stars

☾ steven finds it hard to believe that you’re gone, while marc is forced to live with endless regret, and jake continues to blame himself for everything.

☼ no one can hurt you

☾ they would never bring you into the face of danger, but what if danger comes preying on you? 

★ @ichorai

☼ dlz

☾ jake lockley wasn't your husband. steven and marc were. jake was just... he was just there. a ghost living in your house.

☼ love dog

☾ your neighbor was delusional. he cried a lot, spoke of nonsensical happenings, and always appeared somewhat lost. you found yourself to be rather fond of him

★ @foli-vora

☼ there’s always tomorrow

☾ Steven needed a wingman. Or maybe he already had one, he just didn’t know it.

★ @petertingle-yipyip

☼ so long london

☾ Dating Steven was always a bit of a gamble. So when a beautiful woman comes to town claiming your boyfriend as her husband, you find a whole new side to the man you love..

★ @peterman-spideyparker

☼ celebrate

☾ The boys realize that they've never celebrated your birthday with you, despite being with you for well over a year and you celebrating their birthday. When they find out when it is, nothing will stop them from giving you a birthday for the record books.

★ @freelancearsonist

☼ wingman

☼ oh, bollocks

☾ reader is a teacher, au where steven got promoted to tour guide and is living his Best Life, lots of fluff and pining

★ @pulchritudinousrogers

☼ missed date

☾ Set before the events of Moon Knight, you work in the museum like Steven and have been crushing on each other for a while but neither of you have even approached each other. Marc steps in to help Steven out, but things don’t go well.

★ @marc-spectorr

☼ the morning after

☾ as steven watches you sleep, he starts to wonder whether you deserve to be with a man as broken as he is.

★ @foreverinadais

☼ the break up

☾ in which y/n is going through a break-up with the moon boys and happens to be serving when one of them is on a date.

★ @howaboutcastiel

☼ not my intention

☾ They notice she gets anxious and startled very easily, but when they bring it up she always brushes them off so they don't pry. They don’t know she's previously been in an abusive relationship. And maybe they're at an office party and some guy comes to her when she's alone and the boys get jealous since it's obvious he's trying to flirt with their girl.

★ @pinchofhoney

☼ just one word

☾ You may not be aware of their existence having only met Steven, but no Marc Spector alter will let anything happen to you.

★ @marvelsswansong

☼ clumsy

☾ you're extremely clumsy. Steven worries. Marc finds it amusing. Jake gets protective. But they all love you for it nonetheless.

★ @astroboots

☼ red flags

☾ Sweet as he is, dating Steven means you have to be willing to ignore a few red flags along the way. 

★ @grantspectortrash

☼ suited and booted pt2 pt3

☾ you live across the hall from Steven. For whatever reason, he has to use your shower before going to a work event. You get the pleasure of seeing him in a suit.

★ @mknightgrant

☼ silence

☾ You should’ve stopped asking questions. 

★ @mkfluffluv

☼ a future without you

☾ marc lost you to the snap and after 5 years of dealing with his grief by maiming people, he finally gets you back.

☼ keep the secret?

☾ marc and steven had gotten themselves sick. luckily for them, they have a wonderful and loving partner who’s willing to take care of them(you). unbeknownst to you, another person is taking care of them in their own way. (yes it’s jake.)

★ @little-worm-grant

☼ uncomplicated

☾ Deep down you knew Jake wouldn’t be calling if he didn’t think he needed you. Or maybe that’s what you told yourself to make it more tolerable to be out of your warm bed at this hour.

★ @mccn-bcys

☼ just a touch of your hand pt2 pt3

☾ when you turn eighteen, an ink stain appears on your skin wherever your soulmate touches you for the first time. the boys each are dealing with their stain in their own way.

★ @missdictatorme

☼ open my eyes

☾ Jake and Steven were more than happy when you agreed to be in a relationship with them, but Marc barely fronts when you're near. Will he warm up to you over time?

★ @wysteria-clad

☼ our little thing

☾ you have a specific thing with each of them. It's not like you don't do it with other two, but you do enjoy a little act of intimacy that is special to each of them.

★ @m00nsbaby

☼ the already over

☼ weightless

☾ The feeling of being trapped goes beyond the ankle bracelet that keeps him tied to the bed.

★ @bruhstories

☼ canonic jar

☾ marc is exasperated by you, but he needs to behave because you're steven's girlfriend.

★ @oswildin

☼ good day

☾ You and Steven work at the museum together, little did he know you had a crush on the man. After getting yourself into trouble, you and Steven are both punished with an evening in inventory.

☼ take on me pt2

☾ You end up on an accidental date with Steven, but it ends up being the best date you could’ve asked for. It leads into more, but things aren’t as simple as they appear. With adoration strong for the man, you take a chance on him.

★ @eyelessfaces

☼ formal wear

★ @bensolosbluesaber

☼ the jake problem pt2

☾ Jake hates you. Like really hates you, which wouldn’t be a problem if you weren’t dating Steven and Marc. But maybe, just maybe, Jake doesn’t hate you

hopefully all links work, let me know if not <3

[pinchofhoney]

thank you so much!<33 i’m thinking of a second part so maybe your heart will be at least a little bit healed 🤭

perfectly flawed

benedict bridgerton x princess!reader

word count: 2.7k

warning: hurt without comfort, it might be suggestive but there's nothing inappropriate about it (friends with benefits but without any details)

summary: Finding love as a princess comes with its challenges, but becoming a mistress was never part of the plan.

a/n: two things; one, over these few months i forgot what it's like to write something that isn't an academic paper. two, in the process of writing it i forgot that i was supposed to write it based on a song. i suppose i'm already a different person than i was just the week ago when i asked you for your opinion, but regardless, feel welcome to read this,, thing<33

pages that may interest you: masterlist ♡ taglist ♡ who i write for

Lady Whistledown’s Society Papers

London, 18th April 1814

Dearest Readers,

The Season has barely begun, yet the glittering ballrooms of London are already abuzz with whispers and speculation. The cause of this fervour? None other than the captivating niece of Her Majesty. The fairy-like young lady, whose arrival in London coincided with the Season’s beginning, has ignited a flurry of theories.

Is she a princess, a countess, or perhaps a secret agent on a mission? The whispers echo through the salons, each speculation more imaginative than the last. Her regal bearing and the way she holds her fan hint at noble lineage, but her eyes hold secrets that defy easy classification. Could she be a pawn in a political game, or does her purpose lie closer to matters of the heart? Suitors line up, eager to claim her hand, but our debutante remains an unknown figure, casting doubt upon the intentions behind her smile.

Gentlemen of distinction have flocked to her side, vying for her attention. Lord Pembroke, the dashing heir to a vast estate, has been seen trailing her like a devoted puppy. The Duke of Ashford, brooding and aloof, has deigned to engage her in conversation. And then there is Captain Sinclair, whose sea-green eyes promise both danger and adventure.

At Lady Featherington's soirée, our young lady engaged in spirited conversation with none other than Miss Eloise Bridgerton. Their conversation delved into matters of politics—a most unconventional choice. Is our French princess a revolutionary sympathizer, or does she simply relish the thrill of intellectual sparring?

Rest assured, dear readers, that Lady Whistledown shall be your faithful guide through the twists and turns of this unfolding narrative. Prepare your fans and polish your silver spoons, for the London Season has just begun, and in the shadow of the Queen's niece, our world is poised to be turned upside down. Society must brace itself for a whirlwind of speculation, as we stand on the brink of a most intriguing chapter.

Yours Truly,

Lady Whistledown

At the very core of the French Empire, you were raised as the epitome of grace and subtlety. With royal blood coursing through your veins, you were groomed to be the perfect lady, the jewel of the imperial court. Every step you took, every word you said, was a careful composition, painting the portrait of an eminent lineage.

From a young age, you were taught the art of etiquette, your days filled with lessons on poise, embroidery, and the subtle language of the fan. Your attire, always impeccable, was the evidence of your status and breeding. The world perceived you as the embodiment of perfection, a delicate blossom requiring protection from the harsh realities beyond the palace walls.

Yet, behind the facade of the devoted princess, a secreted truth blossomed. Beneath the tangled layers of silk and lace, your spirit, unyielding and untamed, stood in defiance of the expectations of courtly life. The allure of royal grandeur held little sway over you, and the burden of societal obligations felt like a daily donning of a suffocating corset.

The shimmering balls and elaborate rituals became stifling, making your heart to ache for those fleeting moments of genuine connection, uncontrolled laughter, and a subtle taste of the forbidden. Although French suitors eagerly fought for your attention and the allure of your family's wealth, your soul yearned for a partner who would daringly challenge the scripted norms, infusing romance with a breath of spontaneous authenticity.

And thus, to address your reluctance to accept the prearranged path, your mother came up with a plan. Sending you to the splendour of London under the watchful eye of the Queen, your beloved aunt, she hoped this change of scenery would guide you towards a dutiful marriage, in line with the expectations befitting your royal lineage. What slipped out of her seemingly perfect idea, however, was the playful nature of fate, particularly when guided by those who avoid predictability. So, your journey to the bustling heart of British metropolis grew with an outcome greatly different from your mother's expectations.

Your aunt, holding the most esteemed position in the United Kingdom, was admired for her wisdom and understanding. But the hours of lessons imparted to you from an early age, combined with your ability to conceal your rebellious nature from the public eye, had transformed you into a pretty great actress. And your performance, crafted over the years, was so convincing that even someone as sharp as the Queen herself failed to see through the carefully constructed act.

But perhaps, this time, you've got too close to the edge, because in the blink of an eye, you found yourself entangled in a situation that, if exposed, would not only scandalize all of England but also cast a shadow over France, where your family hopefully awaited news of your impending marriage.

And how did it all start?

The beginning of your tale remains in the memories of that fateful debutante ball, where a single innocent look changed the course of your luck. It was a brief moment, a shared exchange of glimpse between you and Benedict Bridgerton, that seemed to stretch time itself. In the glimmer of that ballroom, his bright eyes locked onto yours from across the room, and the world around you seemed to slow, as if giving space for something beyond a mere glance.

You had no idea what captivated you about the man who didn't really stand out among the other attendees, but most likely it was this quiet strength of his gaze. The gaze without the typical fascination you'd grown used to as a princess of the French Empire or the usual envy that flickered in the eyes of those desperate to secure a partner who determined their life's worth. Benedict's gaze was just different. It held no trace of the thought that you were merely a silly princess with a title. It carried the feeling that you were a masterpiece, a creation worthy of admiration. And it stirred a yearning within you, an insatiable thirst for freedom and authenticity that your heart had craved for so long.

A brief exchange of words with Benedict at the ball opened your eyes, making you believe that not every man who sought your company was doing so only for your family's wealth. As you danced together, his touch ignited a spark, a fleeting moment of intimacy that lingered long after the music faded into the night, and each stolen glance exchanged across the crowded ballroom carried the weight of unspoken desires. It felt as though the connection that binds soulmates was about to disappear when your paths crossed, signalling that you had, finally, found one another.

And so, it began. A secret affair that grew under the cloak of darkness, far from the prying eyes of nosy socialites waiting to catch a glimpse of scandal. In the hidden corners of London, where shadows whispered secrets and the night sky painted a canvas of stars, you found comfort in the arms of Benedict, a man not necessarily burdened by the weight of societal expectations, yet bound by his own hesitation to commit to anything beyond the present moment.

As the inappropriate meetings became routine, you assumed the role of a mistress, a position you never imagined yourself in, and the only rule you committed to follow during your secret dates was the lack of romantic feelings. Yet, despite your best efforts to maintain a facade of emotional distance, your heart had a way of defying logic. With each stolen moment spent in Benedict's company, you found yourself drawn deeper into the labyrinth of emotions, a labyrinth fraught with longing and desire. What started as a simple agreement, devoid of romantic sentiments, soon evolved into something far more sincere.

And it genuinely scared you.

You walked nervously around the place of your every rendezvous with Benedict, your fingers nervously picking the cuticles near your nail—a gesture unsuitable for the lady you were expected to be. But in the fuss of events that have happened in London so far, such a thing seemed a minor violation. Not only did the task of slipping unnoticed from the royal palace grew increasingly difficult, but the relentless fluttering in your heart at the mere thought of Bridgerton haunted your sleepless nights.

Throughout your life, you had yearned for a love different from the one you had observed in French society. And now, when the opportunity to live your fairy tale presented itself, reality proved to be just an unrequited feeling. While you were happy to see Benedict and yearned for his presence, it seemed he may only crave your body, not the depths of your soul.

You wanted today's meeting to be the last one, a meeting where nothing would happen. Or so you convinced yourself. The purpose was clear: to say goodbye to Benedict and to draw the curtain on a relationship built on fleeting glances and secret meetings. And even though probably the best choice would have been to just stop showing up on these encounters and withdrawing from public spaces where you might cross paths, you didn't want to just pretend that nothing had ever happened between you two. The social season was still around you, and avoiding the consequences of your actions would only complicate everything. Maybe not for Benedict, but for you, for sure.

And then, the silence broken every second by your anxious heartbeat was completely shattered by the sound of footsteps. Turning, you were met with the sight of Benedict Bridgerton approaching with firm strides, and his presence seemed to overshadow your plans to say goodbye when, for a moment, the world seemed to pause as you lost yourself in the intensity of his gaze.

Without a word, he wrapped his arms around your waist, and his touch sent pleasant shivers down your spine. The warmth of his embrace, coupled with the subtle brush of his breath against your skin, stirred conflicting emotions within you. Your heart quickened its pace, betraying the reason you came for this final meeting.

“I've been thinking about you all day,” Benedict whispered, and his breath caressed your delicate skin. But as much as the desire for intimacy flickered within, you held steadfast to the resolution you had set for this meeting.

With a gentle pull, you extricated yourself from his embrace, creating a safe distance between the two of you. The tingling sensation stayed on your skin, as a remaining echo of his touch that resonated through every fibre of your being. “We need to talk,” you said, your voice steadier than your racing heart. Benedict's eyes, once filled with a yearning, now searched yours for an answer to an as yet unspoken question.

“Talk?” he asked, his voice laced with a hint of playful intrigue as he arched one of his eyebrows with his signature smile dancing upon his lips. “About what?” he pressed, and with an air of casual confidence, he crossed his arms over his chest as he ambled a few steps to the side. “You're not going to tell me you've fallen in love, are you, princess?”

A nervous laugh bubbled up from within, escaping between your lips before you could hold it back. In an attempt to mirror Benedict's movements, you crossed your arms over your chest, your head shaking with feigned amusement. “Fall in love?” you repeated his words, adopting a tone of playful dismissal. “Don't be ridiculous, of course not,” you declared, adding a scoff at the end, as if to fortify the illusion of light-hearted banter. Hoping to shield your true feelings, now concealed beneath a facade of amusement, you met Benedict's gaze with a look of mock disbelief.

“We should end this relationship,” the words spilled from your lips, hoping your voice wouldn't betray how fast your heart was beating at that moment. “I did not come to London to become just another woman in the arms of the Viscount's son. If my mother were to find out, she'd blame herself for raising me poorly, and that's not the truth,” you began to rationalize, your words flowing as an attempt to justify the decision you had set before both of you. “I have obligations to fulfil, a path to follow, and I won't achieve that by sleeping with you.”

Benedict watched you in silence, not knowing if you were serious. His gaze bore into you, seeking answers within the depths of your eyes.

“Now you're the one being ridiculous,” he retorted, his tone carrying a gentle scolding. Leaning against a nearby counter, he looked at you with a combination of disbelief. “Since when have you cared so deeply about living up to your mother's expectations?”

“I've come to understand that my mother wants what she believes is best for me. As a princess of the French Empire, there are certain expectations I must meet, whether I appreciate them or not,” you said, closing the physical distance between yourself and Benedict. Self-control was what kept your hands from reaching out as you stopped just in front of him. “Think about what would happen if our secret were to be exposed. It would be the end for both of us, and the scandal would echo across the entire continent. The Queen herself would likely seek our demise.” You emphasized your words by pointing a finger at yourself. “I cannot ruin the honour of the entire royal family for a fleeting moment of pleasure.”

Benedict met your gaze with a silent acknowledgment of the truth in your words, yet beneath the veneer of understanding, a flicker of defiance danced in his eyes. “So, what are you saying? You're suddenly prepared to sacrifice your entire life for the expectations of your family that would see you married and bearing children with some man who would likely make you miserable?” he asked, a trace of frustration evident in his voice.

A moment of silence ensued as you fixed your gaze on Benedict. Finally, a disbelieving scoff escaped your lips, and you shook your head. Taking a few steps away, you placed your hands on your hips, a gesture mirroring the internal conflict within you. “Perhaps you haven't noticed yet, Benedict, but I am a woman. And in a world dictated by the whims of men, the role assigned to women is often reduced to that of an obedient wife, tasked with bringing some affluent man's heir into the world. It's not about what I want; it's about what everyone else around me expects.”

As Benedict made a move to step closer, a surge of urgency propelled you to speak before he could interject. “I should be going now. The palace servants are growing increasingly suspicious.”

Despite the assertiveness in your tone, Benedict, keen to the nuances of unspoken emotions, closed the physical gap between you, and his touch went through the delicate fabric of your glove as he gently took your hand. “We can at least end this in a better way,” he suggested, his voice tinged with a suggestive undertone as he met your gaze.

A resolute “No” escaped your lips, infused with an overt firmness born out of the fear that another moment in his gaze might make you give in to your heart's desires. You couldn't afford the risk of surrendering to the tempting pull of his lips once again, the very lips you yearned for. “That's all I wanted to tell you today,” you continued, gently squeezing his hand as if to punctuate your resolve. Purposefully avoiding his gaze, you added, “It's over, but know that every meeting with you has been a pleasure, Mr. Bridgerton. Goodbye.” Articulated so, you withdrew your hand from Benedict's grasp, leaving only the delicate glove in his hold.

With a swift spin, you turned away and your hurried footsteps carrying you out into the rain-soaked streets of London. A quick glance confirmed the absence of prying eyes, making you hasten your pace, putting distance between yourself and the building that housed your shattered heart. As you took each step, the words exchanged at that moment of parting reverberated in your mind. The relation between you and Benedict had ignited sparks of passion and left a sweet ache of longing. Now, the path ahead led you towards the marriage your family desired, a hopeful step to fill the void left by thoughts of Bridgerton.

[pinchofhoney]

perfectly flawed

benedict bridgerton x princess!reader

word count: 2.7k

warning: hurt without comfort, it might be suggestive but there's nothing inappropriate about it (friends with benefits but without any details)

summary: Finding love as a princess comes with its challenges, but becoming a mistress was never part of the plan.

a/n: two things; one, over these few months i forgot what it's like to write something that isn't an academic paper. two, in the process of writing it i forgot that i was supposed to write it based on a song. i suppose i'm already a different person than i was just the week ago when i asked you for your opinion, but regardless, feel welcome to read this,, thing<33

pages that may interest you: masterlist ♡ taglist ♡ who i write for

Lady Whistledown’s Society Papers

London, 18th April 1814

Dearest Readers,

The Season has barely begun, yet the glittering ballrooms of London are already abuzz with whispers and speculation. The cause of this fervour? None other than the captivating niece of Her Majesty. The fairy-like young lady, whose arrival in London coincided with the Season’s beginning, has ignited a flurry of theories.

Is she a princess, a countess, or perhaps a secret agent on a mission? The whispers echo through the salons, each speculation more imaginative than the last. Her regal bearing and the way she holds her fan hint at noble lineage, but her eyes hold secrets that defy easy classification. Could she be a pawn in a political game, or does her purpose lie closer to matters of the heart? Suitors line up, eager to claim her hand, but our debutante remains an unknown figure, casting doubt upon the intentions behind her smile.

Gentlemen of distinction have flocked to her side, vying for her attention. Lord Pembroke, the dashing heir to a vast estate, has been seen trailing her like a devoted puppy. The Duke of Ashford, brooding and aloof, has deigned to engage her in conversation. And then there is Captain Sinclair, whose sea-green eyes promise both danger and adventure.

At Lady Featherington's soirée, our young lady engaged in spirited conversation with none other than Miss Eloise Bridgerton. Their conversation delved into matters of politics—a most unconventional choice. Is our French princess a revolutionary sympathizer, or does she simply relish the thrill of intellectual sparring?

Rest assured, dear readers, that Lady Whistledown shall be your faithful guide through the twists and turns of this unfolding narrative. Prepare your fans and polish your silver spoons, for the London Season has just begun, and in the shadow of the Queen's niece, our world is poised to be turned upside down. Society must brace itself for a whirlwind of speculation, as we stand on the brink of a most intriguing chapter.

Yours Truly,

Lady Whistledown

‎

At the very core of the French Empire, you were raised as the epitome of grace and subtlety. With royal blood coursing through your veins, you were groomed to be the perfect lady, the jewel of the imperial court. Every step you took, every word you said, was a careful composition, painting the portrait of an eminent lineage.

From a young age, you were taught the art of etiquette, your days filled with lessons on poise, embroidery, and the subtle language of the fan. Your attire, always impeccable, was the evidence of your status and breeding. The world perceived you as the embodiment of perfection, a delicate blossom requiring protection from the harsh realities beyond the palace walls.

Yet, behind the facade of the devoted princess, a secreted truth blossomed. Beneath the tangled layers of silk and lace, your spirit, unyielding and untamed, stood in defiance of the expectations of courtly life. The allure of royal grandeur held little sway over you, and the burden of societal obligations felt like a daily donning of a suffocating corset.

The shimmering balls and elaborate rituals became stifling, making your heart to ache for those fleeting moments of genuine connection, uncontrolled laughter, and a subtle taste of the forbidden. Although French suitors eagerly fought for your attention and the allure of your family's wealth, your soul yearned for a partner who would daringly challenge the scripted norms, infusing romance with a breath of spontaneous authenticity.

And thus, to address your reluctance to accept the prearranged path, your mother came up with a plan. Sending you to the splendour of London under the watchful eye of the Queen, your beloved aunt, she hoped this change of scenery would guide you towards a dutiful marriage, in line with the expectations befitting your royal lineage. What slipped out of her seemingly perfect idea, however, was the playful nature of fate, particularly when guided by those who avoid predictability. So, your journey to the bustling heart of British metropolis grew with an outcome greatly different from your mother's expectations.

Your aunt, holding the most esteemed position in the United Kingdom, was admired for her wisdom and understanding. But the hours of lessons imparted to you from an early age, combined with your ability to conceal your rebellious nature from the public eye, had transformed you into a pretty great actress. And your performance, crafted over the years, was so convincing that even someone as sharp as the Queen herself failed to see through the carefully constructed act.

But perhaps, this time, you've got too close to the edge, because in the blink of an eye, you found yourself entangled in a situation that, if exposed, would not only scandalize all of England but also cast a shadow over France, where your family hopefully awaited news of your impending marriage.

And how did it all start?

The beginning of your tale remains in the memories of that fateful debutante ball, where a single innocent look changed the course of your luck. It was a brief moment, a shared exchange of glimpse between you and Benedict Bridgerton, that seemed to stretch time itself. In the glimmer of that ballroom, his bright eyes locked onto yours from across the room, and the world around you seemed to slow, as if giving space for something beyond a mere glance.

You had no idea what captivated you about the man who didn't really stand out among the other attendees, but most likely it was this quiet strength of his gaze. The gaze without the typical fascination you'd grown used to as a princess of the French Empire or the usual envy that flickered in the eyes of those desperate to secure a partner who determined their life's worth. Benedict's gaze was just different. It held no trace of the thought that you were merely a silly princess with a title. It carried the feeling that you were a masterpiece, a creation worthy of admiration. And it stirred a yearning within you, an insatiable thirst for freedom and authenticity that your heart had craved for so long.

A brief exchange of words with Benedict at the ball opened your eyes, making you believe that not every man who sought your company was doing so only for your family's wealth. As you danced together, his touch ignited a spark, a fleeting moment of intimacy that lingered long after the music faded into the night, and each stolen glance exchanged across the crowded ballroom carried the weight of unspoken desires. It felt as though the connection that binds soulmates was about to disappear when your paths crossed, signalling that you had, finally, found one another.

And so, it began. A secret affair that grew under the cloak of darkness, far from the prying eyes of nosy socialites waiting to catch a glimpse of scandal. In the hidden corners of London, where shadows whispered secrets and the night sky painted a canvas of stars, you found comfort in the arms of Benedict, a man not necessarily burdened by the weight of societal expectations, yet bound by his own hesitation to commit to anything beyond the present moment.

As the inappropriate meetings became routine, you assumed the role of a mistress, a position you never imagined yourself in, and the only rule you committed to follow during your secret dates was the lack of romantic feelings. Yet, despite your best efforts to maintain a facade of emotional distance, your heart had a way of defying logic. With each stolen moment spent in Benedict's company, you found yourself drawn deeper into the labyrinth of emotions, a labyrinth fraught with longing and desire. What started as a simple agreement, devoid of romantic sentiments, soon evolved into something far more sincere.

And it genuinely scared you.

You walked nervously around the place of your every rendezvous with Benedict, your fingers nervously picking the cuticles near your nail—a gesture unsuitable for the lady you were expected to be. But in the fuss of events that have happened in London so far, such a thing seemed a minor violation. Not only did the task of slipping unnoticed from the royal palace grew increasingly difficult, but the relentless fluttering in your heart at the mere thought of Bridgerton haunted your sleepless nights.

Throughout your life, you had yearned for a love different from the one you had observed in French society. And now, when the opportunity to live your fairy tale presented itself, reality proved to be just an unrequited feeling. While you were happy to see Benedict and yearned for his presence, it seemed he may only crave your body, not the depths of your soul.

You wanted today's meeting to be the last one, a meeting where nothing would happen. Or so you convinced yourself. The purpose was clear: to say goodbye to Benedict and to draw the curtain on a relationship built on fleeting glances and secret meetings. And even though probably the best choice would have been to just stop showing up on these encounters and withdrawing from public spaces where you might cross paths, you didn't want to just pretend that nothing had ever happened between you two. The social season was still around you, and avoiding the consequences of your actions would only complicate everything. Maybe not for Benedict, but for you, for sure.

And then, the silence broken every second by your anxious heartbeat was completely shattered by the sound of footsteps. Turning, you were met with the sight of Benedict Bridgerton approaching with firm strides, and his presence seemed to overshadow your plans to say goodbye when, for a moment, the world seemed to pause as you lost yourself in the intensity of his gaze.

Without a word, he wrapped his arms around your waist, and his touch sent pleasant shivers down your spine. The warmth of his embrace, coupled with the subtle brush of his breath against your skin, stirred conflicting emotions within you. Your heart quickened its pace, betraying the reason you came for this final meeting.

“I've been thinking about you all day,” Benedict whispered, and his breath caressed your delicate skin. But as much as the desire for intimacy flickered within, you held steadfast to the resolution you had set for this meeting.

With a gentle pull, you extricated yourself from his embrace, creating a safe distance between the two of you. The tingling sensation stayed on your skin, as a remaining echo of his touch that resonated through every fibre of your being. “We need to talk,” you said, your voice steadier than your racing heart. Benedict's eyes, once filled with a yearning, now searched yours for an answer to an as yet unspoken question.

“Talk?” he asked, his voice laced with a hint of playful intrigue as he arched one of his eyebrows with his signature smile dancing upon his lips. “About what?” he pressed, and with an air of casual confidence, he crossed his arms over his chest as he ambled a few steps to the side. “You're not going to tell me you've fallen in love, are you, princess?”

A nervous laugh bubbled up from within, escaping between your lips before you could hold it back. In an attempt to mirror Benedict's movements, you crossed your arms over your chest, your head shaking with feigned amusement. “Fall in love?” you repeated his words, adopting a tone of playful dismissal. “Don't be ridiculous, of course not,” you declared, adding a scoff at the end, as if to fortify the illusion of light-hearted banter. Hoping to shield your true feelings, now concealed beneath a facade of amusement, you met Benedict's gaze with a look of mock disbelief.

“We should end this relationship,” the words spilled from your lips, hoping your voice wouldn't betray how fast your heart was beating at that moment. “I did not come to London to become just another woman in the arms of the Viscount's son. If my mother were to find out, she'd blame herself for raising me poorly, and that's not the truth,” you began to rationalize, your words flowing as an attempt to justify the decision you had set before both of you. “I have obligations to fulfil, a path to follow, and I won't achieve that by sleeping with you.”

Benedict watched you in silence, not knowing if you were serious. His gaze bore into you, seeking answers within the depths of your eyes.

“Now you're the one being ridiculous,” he retorted, his tone carrying a gentle scolding. Leaning against a nearby counter, he looked at you with a combination of disbelief. “Since when have you cared so deeply about living up to your mother's expectations?”

“I've come to understand that my mother wants what she believes is best for me. As a princess of the French Empire, there are certain expectations I must meet, whether I appreciate them or not,” you said, closing the physical distance between yourself and Benedict. Self-control was what kept your hands from reaching out as you stopped just in front of him. “Think about what would happen if our secret were to be exposed. It would be the end for both of us, and the scandal would echo across the entire continent. The Queen herself would likely seek our demise.” You emphasized your words by pointing a finger at yourself. “I cannot ruin the honour of the entire royal family for a fleeting moment of pleasure.”

Benedict met your gaze with a silent acknowledgment of the truth in your words, yet beneath the veneer of understanding, a flicker of defiance danced in his eyes. “So, what are you saying? You're suddenly prepared to sacrifice your entire life for the expectations of your family that would see you married and bearing children with some man who would likely make you miserable?” he asked, a trace of frustration evident in his voice.

A moment of silence ensued as you fixed your gaze on Benedict. Finally, a disbelieving scoff escaped your lips, and you shook your head. Taking a few steps away, you placed your hands on your hips, a gesture mirroring the internal conflict within you. “Perhaps you haven't noticed yet, Benedict, but I am a woman. And in a world dictated by the whims of men, the role assigned to women is often reduced to that of an obedient wife, tasked with bringing some affluent man's heir into the world. It's not about what I want; it's about what everyone else around me expects.”

As Benedict made a move to step closer, a surge of urgency propelled you to speak before he could interject. “I should be going now. The palace servants are growing increasingly suspicious.”

Despite the assertiveness in your tone, Benedict, keen to the nuances of unspoken emotions, closed the physical gap between you, and his touch went through the delicate fabric of your glove as he gently took your hand. “We can at least end this in a better way,” he suggested, his voice tinged with a suggestive undertone as he met your gaze.

A resolute “No” escaped your lips, infused with an overt firmness born out of the fear that another moment in his gaze might make you give in to your heart's desires. You couldn't afford the risk of surrendering to the tempting pull of his lips once again, the very lips you yearned for. “That's all I wanted to tell you today,” you continued, gently squeezing his hand as if to punctuate your resolve. Purposefully avoiding his gaze, you added, “It's over, but know that every meeting with you has been a pleasure, Mr. Bridgerton. Goodbye.” Articulated so, you withdrew your hand from Benedict's grasp, leaving only the delicate glove in his hold.

With a swift spin, you turned away and your hurried footsteps carrying you out into the rain-soaked streets of London. A quick glance confirmed the absence of prying eyes, making you hasten your pace, putting distance between yourself and the building that housed your shattered heart. As you took each step, the words exchanged at that moment of parting reverberated in your mind. The relation between you and Benedict had ignited sparks of passion and left a sweet ache of longing. Now, the path ahead led you towards the marriage your family desired, a hopeful step to fill the void left by thoughts of Bridgerton.

[pinchofhoney]

Hi! I saw your post about writing fics w dongwook. Are you accepting requests with him? 🥺<3

hi there! i’m so sorry, i removed him from my list just yesterday, because i realized that i don’t feel his characters that much anymore 😔

[pinchofhoney]

i know that the last time i showed up here was last november. i also know that i have five stories started and more than twice as many messages in my inbox, but i've watched bridgerton and i just need to write something for them (or else i'll die)!!

that's why i'd like to ask with whom would you like to read a short story based on a shawn mendes' song perfectly wrong? (i'm just in the little mood for hurt) and of course, i'd like to ask you to leave me your other ideas in my inbox<33

thank you, and hopefully see you soon<3

[pinchofhoney]

Hello , I love your coriolanus snow fics . Can you do one where he is a dad ?

hello, thank you so much, anon!!<33

i’ve been thinking about this question since yesterday and decided that, unfortunately, with great regret, i’ll not write your request

but don't be mad at me and don't start # pinchofhoneyisoverparty, because i have a reason for that!!

i don’t want to justify this man and make him the best father in the whole world (because that's exactly the kind of thing you'd probably want to read); on one of the last pages of the ballad, it was written that if coriolanus were to marry someone he would choose someone he would never love, so that he couldn’t be manipulated (🙄) again. and besides, when we find out in the trilogy that he actually had these children, he is already a monster president

young coriolanus snow, who has his whole life ahead of him, is one thing, but president snow is another, and i don't want to lay my fingers on building him a better life

but thank you once again, and i’m sorry i won’t write your request:((

[pinchofhoney]

Thinking abt all of the “what if’s” there would be if a confrontation in the last broken promises chapter between y/n and snow all those years later! 👀😭 Ahh such amazing writing! I loved it ❤️

ah, don't we all love open endings so we can overthink a little (as if that overthinking wasn't enough in everyday life,,)? 🤭

thank you so so so much!!<33 and thank you for such a commitment to this story hahah

[pinchofhoney]

Could you write something for rick grimes? like stepdad rick

tell me that you'll keep me safe

rick grimes x fem!reader

word count: 3.6k

warning: not proofread, where's lori? i don't know, don't ask me; not here, anyway, our lovely reader is cunning and sly adorable and innocent, and the plot is set during the second season on the greene family farm<33 oh, and there's an age gap, but everything's legal

summary: You're not the one who needs to be helped, yet pretending you do? Surprisingly fun.

a/n: no need to say more! hii<33 thank you so much for that not-really-requesting request, and i mean that because you gave me the space to write something that has been on my mind for a week now!! it’s not a stepdad!rick, but i hope you don’t mind; it’s just i really wanted to write this. i hope you’ll enjoy it anyway (and feel free to drop more detailed stepdad!rick ask, so that i can write your request as best i can!!<3)

pages that may interest you: masterlist ♡ taglist ♡ who i write for

Between everyday chores, laughter danced on the breeze, casting an unusual lightness upon every person at the farm. You hummed a soft tune, losing yourself in the simple joy of gathering wildflowers near the barn. Each delicate petal added to the bouquet, and your wind-tousled hair fluttered in a carefree manner, enhancing your appearance of innocence.

Or, at least, that's what you wanted Rick to believe; in your innocence and vulnerability.

As you plucked the flowers, a playful smile waltzed on your lips, hidden behind a facade of pure illusion. You relished the game you were playing, fully aware of the potency of this delicate act.

Your thoughts wandered, assembling the pieces of your innocent little puzzle, born out of sheer boredom in the world you unexpectedly found yourself living in.

Despite being aware of your strength as a woman, you secretly enjoyed the allure of Rick's caring gaze, surrounding you whenever you fell within his line of sight. Each move you made was a subtle manipulation, inviting him in, conveying your vulnerability while secretly pleasing him with your shrewdness.

The plan was simple; steer clear of guns and walkers, and simply ignore the looks from your family, who, naturally, knew you very well. Your hunger for independence before the outbreak was one thing, but now you found a satisfying enjoyment in the protective embrace with which the older man shielded you. Not to mention that playing the lovely, helpless niece of the farmer brought you a lot of fun.

It was a delicate and subtle cooperation between reality and illusion, a dance where you held the strings without letting them peek.

The sun lounged lazily in the sky, bathing the family farm in a soft glow. It was one of those days when time stretched without urgency, enveloping the world in a cocoon of ease. The morning air carried the tender scent of dewy grass, and the swaying trees whispered tales about the world that was once so familiar to all of you. For a fleeting moment, the chaos beyond the fence—the groans of the walkers—seemed distant, cloaked in a serene atmosphere.

Rick approached you, casting a glance over his shoulder at the rest of the group, each person engrossed in their own tasks. He sidled up next to you, maintaining a respectful distance, and observed you absorbed in your flowery world.

“Hey, shouldn't you be with the others?”

You lifted a surprised gaze, sparkling with calculated innocence, quickly meeting his steady eyes. You had been so entranced by the hum of the melody that his footsteps had gone unnoticed. Catching sight of Rick's familiar face, you offered him a gentle smile and straightened, showing him the flowers clutched in your hand.

“Oh, I was just picking some flowers for the kitchen. They brighten up the place, don't you think?” Your voice carried the soft tone of someone who seems delicate.

While Rick nodded in agreement, he had no intention of leaving you alone here. Despite the familiar faces that showed up in the farmyard every now and then, he wanted to be the one to keep you safe.

“Let me walk you back. It will be safer that way.”

Hearing his words, you fought the urge to roll your eyes and shoot him a look insinuating he was unnecessarily exaggerating the danger. Instead, you just nearly sang out with your soft voice, “But there are no walkers here,” pointing it out before quickly stepping away and crouching by a clump of daisies.

“Maggie asked you to head back to help her trim her hair,” Rick's words lingered as his eyes stayed fixed on you.

You chuckled to yourself, hiding your true feelings behind a mask. You were pretty sure Maggie didn’t actually need your assistance, especially not with a haircut, but playing along was all part of the game to achieve what you were aiming for; his protection and, above all, attention.

You weren't one to treat people as pawns in your game, but when you first set eyes on Rick the day his group arrived at the farm, you couldn't resist the idea of having a little fun.

After all, in this world, everyone was destined to meet their end sooner or later, right?

“Just a few more,” you replied casually, not exactly acknowledging the man's words.

Gathering more flowers for your bouquet, a soft breeze toyed with the delicate fabric of your dress, causing one strap to slip off your shoulder.

Rick's attention quickly shifted to your shoulder when he noticed the strap slipping, but just as swiftly, his gaze returned to your face before flickering toward the flowers you were reaching for.

That strap seemed like a subtle detail, a fleeting imperfection in the flawless image you'd been effortlessly painting all along.

Standing tall, a proud yet gentle smile graced your lips as you lifted the vibrant bouquet, its wildflowers creating a vivid contrast against the soft, bright shades of the dress you were wearing. Rick's protective instincts sharpened instantly at the sight, drawn to shield someone who appeared delicate yet strangely captivating. As you rose, an effortless adjustment to a slipped strap caught his attention, smoothly getting rid of the minor imperfection without a hint of concern.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” you asked, shifting your gaze from the bouquet to Rick's face, awaiting his praise. He simply nodded and gestured towards the house, prompting an eye-rolling chuckle from you.

As you both strolled in the indicated direction, you maintained your composure, your calm demeanor unwavering. However, a mischievous sparkle danced in your eyes when Rick wasn't looking.

The subtle playfulness in your tone and the glint in your eye hinted at a more foxy truth beneath your facade. You enjoyed the sway you held over his protective instincts, delighting in the security and dominance he offered in this unpredictable world.

Back in the cozy warmth of Hershel's kitchen, the wildflowers you had picked now found their place in a rustic vase, their colors standing out against the worn wooden table. The smell of fresh flowers mingled with the aroma of a recently finished breakfast, filling the air.

Rick leaned casually against the door frame, his gaze fixed on you. There was something captivating about the way you delicately arranged the flowers. Catching his eye, you smiled with a playful glint dancing in your eyes.

“Thanks for walking me back, Rick,” you said, your voice as gentle as the petals you'd just arranged. “It's nice having someone who cares.”

Rick nodded, his smile softening. The sight of a man smiling wasn’t common, so you cherished every moment he gifted you with one, even if it was small.

“We gotta look out for each other,” he replied, and you could hear the obvious sincerity in his tone.

As you breezed by him in the doorway, your fingers lightly grazed his rough hand, a touch so delicate it could almost pass as accidental. His eyes met yours, a flare of surprise dancing across his face, but you effortlessly kept up an air of innocence, saying nothing.

Instead, you just made your way toward Maggie's room upstairs, supposedly to lend a hand, humming that familiar tune that lingered in the barn's air before.

Leaning against the hallway wall leading to the kitchen, Shane crossed his arms, quietly observing the entire scene. His sharp eyes tracked your every move, a knowing smile quirking up the corners of his mouth. When you passed by, words weren't necessary—his expression said it all.

He saw through your facade, catching glimpses of your true abilities hidden beneath your innocent front. The playful energy you emitted lingered in his thoughts, and he found himself personally impressed by the subtle game you were playing, deftly toying with Rick's protective instincts.

“Maybe you should teach her how to shoot?” Shane suggested, pushing away from the wall and walking into the kitchen, passing Rick. Before he could react to Shane's unexpected presence (especially considering their increasingly strained relationship), he continued, his tone somewhat mocking. “What if something happens to our little sunshine? You know, there might be times when you can't always be there for her,” he pointed out, particularly emphasizing the term sunshine when referring to you.

Rick pushed himself away from the door frame, ignoring Shane's tone and took a few steps deeper into the kitchen, stopping by the table where a vase sat. He rested one hand on his hip, shifting his weight from one leg to the other.

“Y/N has never held a gun in her life. She won't hit a walker even if it's lying in front of her, waiting for her to shoot him right in the head,” Rick replied, gently caressing the petals of a flower in the vase.

In response, Shane let out a chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief. He grabbed a glass from the cupboard, poured water from the tap, and took a sip, turning to face Rick. Leaning against the countertop, he grinned.

“I can’t believe it,” he said, still amused.

Rick furrowed his brow, giving Shane a questioning look. “Believe what?” he asked, seeing that Walsh wasn't planning on elaborating.

“She's playing you, man. Playing you like a fiddle,” he replied with a smirk on his face as he took another sip of water.

Shane walked a few steps, standing on the opposite side of the table. He casually rested his free hand on his pistol at his belt, looking at Rick with a grin. One might think a grown man couldn't be so naive, but clearly, something must have gone awry in his friend's mind.

“Take her to that shooting lesson, or I'll do it and prove she's bluffing” he stated, then without waiting for Rick's response, left the kitchen shaking his head, leaving his friend alone.

You stood on the porch between the two men, fidgeting nervously from foot to foot.

“Are you sure it's safe?” you asked, your worried eyes darting to Rick, your eyebrows gently furrowing, giving yourself an even softer look.

Rick stood beside you, hands on his hips, scanning the courtyard as the sun stretched its rays across the landscape. He turned his gaze to you at your question, a hint of care flickering in his eyes.

“Yes, I'm sure,” he reassured, nodding to emphasize his certainty. “You know nothing's goin’ to happen to you, right? Hershel thinks it's a good idea,” he added.

At the mention of your uncle’s name, you straightened slightly, a glimpse of unease crossing your face briefly. Thankfully, Rick didn't seem to notice, but from the corner of your eye, you caught Shane leaning against the porch railing, shaking his head while releasing a quiet chuckle.

“You talked to him?” you asked, brushing off the other man's reaction.

“Yeah, he seemed a little confused, but,” Rick started, only to be swiftly interrupted by Shane with his seemingly innocent yet biting remark.

“He's probably worried about his favorite niece, isn't he?”

Your gaze shifted to Shane, who looked at you meaningfully with an almost genuine smile playing on his lips. Before you could respond, Rick nodded and cleared his throat before speaking.

“Meet me at the car in twenty minutes, okay? Got something else to take care of,” he said, and as you agreed with a quick nod, he headed toward the tents scattered across the yard where he and his group were staying.

As Rick's figure moved away from the porch, you both remained in silence. Once he was a safe distance away, you turned to his friend, your eyes holding a hint of seriousness and your jaw gently clenched.

“How did you come up with that, huh?” he asked, amusement twinkling in his brown eyes as he crossed his arms.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” you replied shortly, with no intention of elaborating on your actions to anyone.

Shane's laughter was muffled in response, his head slightly tilted back. When he focused on you again, a touch more serious now, he pushed himself off the railing and stepped closer, leaning in slightly.

“You can toy with Rick, it's cool, but not in front of me, sweetheart,” he said, watching your reaction closely. “Seeing you act like a clueless kitten just to get his attention? It's a real pain in the existential department” he added in a slightly softer voice, carefully enunciating each word to make them sink into your head.

You gazed into his eyes silently, pondering how many others had caught onto your little game. It was clear your uncles, Maggie, Beth, and Shawn had noticed your shift around Rick and had commented more than once. But was anyone else in his group as sharp as Shane to see through you?

“Better head upstairs to freshen up,” Shane's teasing tone snapped you back to reality, and you blinked a few times. “Gotta impress Rick, right, sweetheart?” With those words, he strolled past you, heading into the house.

Glancing over your shoulder after him, you let out a deep sigh and shifted your gaze to the side, catching Carl's eye. You flashed him the warmest smile you could muster and raised your hand in a friendly wave in his direction.

“Dad mentioned he'd teach you to shoot today,” the boy said, strolling toward the porch. You closed the distance, meeting him.

“Yeah, we're heading out soon. I'm getting a little stressed,” you chuckled softly, slipping back into the facade momentarily disrupted by Shane.

“You've never shot before?” Carl asked, peering at you from beneath a large sheriff's hat.

“Never had the chance,” you replied, a small tug at the corner of your lips as you bent the truth, shaking your head slightly. Leaning casually against the porch railing, you cast a glance down at the boy.

“It's not too tough, you'll catch on quick,” he reassured you with a genuine smile before heading off.

As he left, you stood there for a moment, taking in the peacefulness of the farm. The gentle buzz of life surrounded you, and you sighed softly, feeling the weight of the world on your shoulders. With a determined shake of your head, you pushed away from the railing and headed towards the barn, the dusty path crunching beneath your boots.

Before meeting Rick at the car, you needed to take a short walk, wanting a moment to yourself before diving into the lesson where you'd have to feign clumsiness, pretending you barely know how to hold a gun in your hands.

“Focus, Y/N,” you heard Rick's voice coming from not too far behind you. There was a hint of annoyance in it, but Rick was trying hard to keep his emotions in check. He was definitely better than you, and it was clear he wanted you to learn something from this lesson. If someone under your care had been messing up like this, you'd have hopped into the car long ago, heading back to the farm and leaving them to their own fate. It was a bit of a natural selection.

You turned to Rick, wearing a defeated expression, and lowered your gun. “This is too hard, Rick,” you complained, puffing out your lower lip in a delicate manner.

A tired sigh escaped him, followed by Rick stepping closer, his gaze calm as he looked down at you. “Alright, let's give it another try, shall we?” he asked, and in that moment, it felt like you were seven years old again, sitting at the kitchen table with your dad trying to teach you math.

Rick stepped closer, his eyes studying the way you held his revolver. He adjusted your grip, his touch firm yet gentle. “See, Y/N, it's all about balance,” he explained, standing right behind your back, his voice calm and steady. “You want your feet shoulder-width apart, like this,” he positioned your feet, his closeness making you hyper-aware of his presence. “And hold the gun steady, elbows slightly bent. It gives you better control.”

You nodded, trying to focus on his instructions, but it was hard with him so close. Even though you were perfectly fine with a gun, suddenly all your knowledge and muscle memory just flew out of your body. You could feel the warmth radiating from his body, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

“Now, line up your shot. Take a deep breath,” he continued, his breath brushing against your ear as he spoke. “And when you're ready, squeeze the trigger gently.”

You followed his guidance, trying to ignore the tingling sensation his closeness caused. The gun felt more stable in your hands, and you took a deep breath, feeling Rick gently move back, giving you space. You slowly let the air out and squeezed the trigger as the man instructed.

The shot rang out, hitting the target dead center.

“There you go,” Rick praised, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “You just needed a little adjustment.”

For a moment, you gazed at the shot can in silence, a brief worry crossing your mind that this one accurate gunshot might have shattered the delicate image, which you had been working on since the first days of Rick's group on the farm.

Lowering the revolver slowly, you mustered a happy smile, then turned to Rick with skillfully feigned excitement.

“I did it!” you exclaimed, watching the smile that appeared on the man's face.

“I knew you could do it,” he replied, nodding his head in appreciation. “Now try again, but without my help.”

As you prepared for your second attempt, determined to maintain the facade, a sudden noise echoed through the trees – a guttural growl followed by clumsy footsteps. Both you and Rick turned toward the disturbance, realizing it was not just the forest's regular sounds.

“Walkers,” Rick muttered, a sense of urgency in his voice.

You clutched the revolver tightly, and your true nature came out on your face as you stared seriously into the wall of trees from behind which the noise was coming. Rick, left with only a knife, looked around for a potential threat, stepping out in front of you and protecting you with his own body, even though you were the one holding the weapon that could help you.

“Stay close,” Rick instructed, the earlier playfulness fading from his tone.

The groans grew louder, and shadows emerged from the edges of the forest. Panic set in, and you knew that your delicate act wouldn't cut it in the face of real danger. With a deep breath, you took aim over Rick's shoulder at the approaching walkers. The gun bucked in your hands, and the bullet found its mark, hitting a walker square in the head.

Shock crossed Rick's face as the undead figure crumpled to the ground.

“Nice shot,” he said, stealing a quick glance at you. Yet, there wasn't time for praise. More walkers were coming, drawn by the noise.

In a blur of movement, you kept shooting, stepping closer to the horde of the dead, each shot finding its target flawlessly. The walkers fell one by one, halted in their tracks by your accurate shots.

As the chaos settled, you stood there, adrenaline still coursing through your veins, chest rising and falling with each heavy breath. Rick's eyes remained fixed on you, a blend of awe and confusion reflecting in his gaze. Lowering the revolver with a trembling hand, you avoided meeting his eyes. This unplanned revelation had caught you off guard; you hadn't intended to expose yourself so quickly.

The air hung thick with silence, the only disruption the faint rustle of leaves. Finally, Rick broke the quiet, his voice softer now, edged with a hint of curiosity. “You're not as innocent as you made everyone believe, are you? Is that why Hershel seemed surprised when I mentioned teaching you to shoot?”

Your hand trembled as you held out the revolver to Rick, choosing silence over words.

"We should head back," you suggested, your voice an attempt to diffuse the mounting tension. With a sidelong glance at Rick—allowing yourself just a moment of eye contact—you turned toward the car.

You didn't want to talk about what had just happened. You found yourself in the role of a liar, but wasn't that exactly what you were? Playing along, crafting an image to draw the protective care of an older man, the attention you'd been missing since the apocalypse broke out.

As you walked, you couldn't shake the growing sense of shame. How were you supposed to look into Rick's eyes now, knowing the truth had slipped through the cracks of your carefully constructed facade?

The car was a welcome sight, a haven of familiar metal and worn seats. You climbed in, the door shutting out the remnants of tension that clung to the air outside.

Rick joined you, the silence stretching between you two like an unspoken agreement. The engine roared to life, drowning out any attempt at conversation. The only sound that permeated the vehicle was the rhythmic hum of tires against the gravel.

As the landscape passed by in a blur, you stole another glance at Rick. His expression was unreadable, a mix of understanding and something else you couldn't quite pinpoint. The tension remained, settling into the fabric of the car like an unwelcome passenger.

Neither of you spoke and the truth lingered in the air, a silent companion on the journey back to the farm.

[pinchofhoney]

# a huge milestone !!

hi, loves!!<33

this post won't be the long one, although it probably could if only i could express my emotions not just through fiction; i just wanted to say a really big thank you to you everyone for the half a thousand followers!!<33

my brain can't even imagine such a number of people in one place and it's really hard for me to believe that i actually managed to get so many of you in a place that started out as a silly joke!

i started this blog in january this year, after an absolutely long break from writing, which was at least six(!!) years, and now i can't imagine a day without planning and organising in my head a whole plot of things to later put it into words and show it to the whole world (to you, you are my world)

there will be no special event at this milestone, as the last year at university has effectively cut down my time and the ghost of writing my thesis hangs over me all the time, but i'd like to say a special thank you to @wolfmoonmusic as usual for being with me from the very beginning<33

i'd also like to thank @h0nkch0c0late and @thathoefromcollage, who came here relatively recently, but i love them with all my heart!!

thank you all once again for cheering on my obsessions and reading whatever comes into this silly head!<33

stay safe, everyone

bye!

[pinchofhoney]

be careful what you wish for

coriolanus snow x fem!reader

word count: 1.7k

warning: platonic relationship, quite angst-ish, text in italics is a flashback

summary: Turning in a district boy to the authorities felt like the right thing to do for Coriolanus. But what if, in doing so, he betrayed you as well?

a/n: absolutely no one asked for it, but i'll deliver it to you anyway<33 i'd say have fun but i'm not sure i'd be appropriate here

pages that may interest you: masterlist ♡ taglist ♡ who i write for

taglist: @watercolorskyy

gif is not mine, credit to the owner

The moment Sejanus shared Billy Taup's escape plan with you, there wasn't much hesitation on your part. It's not that you acted without thinking; it's just that you didn't need much time to decide.

The summer was scorching, feeling like an unending oven. The sun never let up, and even when you hoped for cooler nights, the heat lingered. You've gotten used to the coal dust that's practically become your second skin in District 12, but what truly got to you wasn't the clinging dirt. It was the musty scent of men's sweat, a scent that clung to the air, heavy with the hard work that defined your daily life.

Being one of the few female Peacekeepers among a crowd of men wasn't your ideal situation. Many other girls had come and gone, unable to stand the sacrifices the job demanded, but you stood your ground, determined to prove yourself in this role, even if serving in this particular district wasn't your dream come true.

At least until a certain point.

When you first arrived in District 12, your main goal was to pass your officer's exam as quickly as possible and secure a transfer elsewhere. But when young Plinth kindled the idea of a life beyond authority and rules, the seed of belief in freedom took root within you. The very thought of it resonated in your mind, sounding truly incredible, and you couldn't wait to leave the filthy district behind, escaping through a gap in the wire mesh fence.

But, of course, life wouldn't be too easy if everything just went as planned, right?

One moment, you were getting ready with Sejanus and the other rebels, gathering the basics for your escape north to the supposedly destroyed District 13. The next, you found yourself standing behind one of the empty houses on the Seam with Coriolanus. He held onto your shoulders, telling you urgently that you had to leave the District as soon as possible.

“What?” was the first word that slipped from your lips, your brows furrowed in confusion as you looked at your friend. “Isn't that exactly what we're working on?” you added, slightly amused, pushing Coriolanus' hands off your shoulders.

Shaking your head, you were about to update him on your progress when he caught your forearm again. “I think you misunderstood me, Y/N,” he said, his face dead serious. “You need to get out of here now,” he continued, and seeing your raised eyebrow, he almost gritted the last word through his teeth.

“What do you mean, Coryo?” you asked, breaking the silence after staring at him for a while, tired of him speaking in riddles.

Now Coriolanus was the one staying silent, his cool eyes fixed on you. You couldn't decipher his expressions; it felt like he was betraying a hundred feelings at once and, at the same time, nothing at all.

“I… um, there's…” the blond man started, stumbling over his words, unsure how to share the information he needed to tell you. “There's a chance that the talk Sejanus and I had, which you joined not long ago, about your escape plan, might have been fully recorded by one of the jabberjays.”

You seemed not to grasp the gravity of Coriolanus' words, so you stared at him, searching for any hint in his eyes that he might be joking.

“Okay, so what?” you eventually asked, once again furrowing your brows, this time with a bit less intensity.When a twig snapped around the building's corner, you quickly turned, thinking it might be someone eavesdropping, but finding only a small hedgehog, you shifted your attention back to the boy in the bluish uniform.

“So what?” Coriolanus repeated your question, unable to believe your difficulty in connecting the dots. “Y/N, these birds are headed to the Capitol. To the lab of the woman who’s the Head Gamemaker of the Hunger Games. And do you know what the Capitol authorities do to rebels?” he asked the question, not waiting for your response. “They hang them on the hanging tree, Y/N.”

You stared at Coriolanus, steadying yourself with a hand against the wooden building. With every word he spoke, you felt the color drain from your face.

“How… How did this happen?” you asked, trying to keep your emotions in check.

Coriolanus happily took care of the mockingjays, moving their cages, tagging them, and passing them along. As Bug left with the fiftieth cage, Sejanus burst into the room, full of excitement. He shared the good news about the upcoming package from his mother with his friends, watching Bug leave with a smile before turning to Coriolanus, who had just finished dealing with the bird marked as number 1.

The bird chirped in its cage, mimicking the last mockingbird, but once Bug was gone, Sejanus' cheerful expression faded, replaced by a troubled look. He glanced around the hangar to ensure they were alone before speaking in a quiet voice.

“Listen, we've only got a few minutes. I know you might not like what I'm about to do, but I need you to at least understand it. After what you said the other day, about us being like brothers, well, I feel I owe you an explanation. Please, just hear me out.”

This was the moment, the confession.

Now was the time for the pieces to be explained, especially about the alliance with rebels and money that he found in Sejanus' belongings. Once Coriolanus heard it, he'd be as good as one of them, a traitor to the Capitol.

Panic, running, or trying to silence Sejanus could be expected, but Coriolanus did none of these things. Instead, his hands moved instinctively. His left hand adjusted the cover of the jabberjay cage, while his right, hidden from Sejanus's view by his body, reached for a remote on the counter. Coriolanus pressed RECORD, and the jabberjay fell silent.

Turning his back to the cage, Coriolanus leaned on the table with his hands, waiting.

In the middle of Sejanus' explanation, you dashed into the hangar like a hurricane itself.

“There you are!” you exclaimed, both happy and a bit annoyed to find young Plinth. “Why didn't you wait for me? I said I wanted to go to Coryo with you,” you added, crossing your arms on your chest as you closed the gap between the boys and yourself.

It seemed that Coriolanus, noticing you in the hangar, tensed up a bit. He glanced briefly at the cage with the bird recording the conversation on the table, but neither of you or Sejanus noticed, and together, you continued explaining your plan to him.

During your report, where you and Sejanus competed over who could give Coriolanus more details, he lowered his head and rubbed his brow with his fingertips. It looked like he was trying to gather his thoughts, unsure how long he could stay silent without seeming suspicious.

But Sejanus rushed on, “I couldn't leave without telling you. You've been like a brother to me. I'll never forget what you did for me in the arena. I'll find a way to let Ma know what happened to me. And my father, too. I'll let him know the Plinth name lives on, even if it's in obscurity.”

The mention of the Plinth name was enough.

Coriolanus's left hand found the remote, and he pressed the NEUTRAL button with his thumb. The jabberjay resumed its earlier song.

Something caught Coriolanus's attention. “Here comes Bug.”

“Here comes Bug,” the bird echoed in his voice.

“Hush, you silly thing,” he scolded the bird, secretly pleased it had returned to its normal pattern. Nothing to alert both of you. He quickly covered the cage with a cloth and marked it with J1.

“I swear, I have no idea,” Coriolanus lied, wearing a worried expression. “While rearranging the cages, one of them must have snagged the remote control.”

You lightly bit your lower lip, eyeing your friend. Without any reason to doubt him, you finally let out a shaky breath.

Gazing up at the sky, you counted to three in your mind to steady your nerves. Then, you looked back at Coriolanus.

“Does Sejanus know?”

“Of course, I told him first,” he lied again, his gaze fixed beyond your shoulders without losing the concerned look on his face.

“God, what are we going to do now?” nerves took over every cell in your body as you asked another question. You leaned against the wooden building, slowly lowering yourself until you were sitting on the ground.

You lifted your head to meet Coriolanus's eyes, and he crouched in front of you, placing his hand on one of your knees.

“Hey, don't stress. You're heading back to the base now. Pack what you need, and tonight, you'll slip out of the district just like you planned with the rebels. You'll meet Sejanus at the lake, alright?” he spoke with a calmness, almost like talking to a kid, trying to reassure you.

Even though Coriolanus despised rebels — those who went against the Capitol's rules — he didn't want you to suffer the consequences that would surely befall Sejanus. He had nothing against you; in fact, he genuinely liked you. Your innocence about a better life beyond the Capitol's control wasn't his concern because you hadn't caused him any trouble, unlike young Plinth who had stirred up problems more than once.

“But won't it be suspicious if I suddenly vanish? They'll be searching for me, Coryo. They'll find me and punish me,” you said, placing your hand on his.

“I told you not to worry, remember?” Coriolanus replied, a bit sharper but still maintaining his reassuring tone. “I'll figure something out. No one's going to harm you.”

“But Coryo, you-” you began, but he quickly cut you off.

“Enough, Y/N,” Coriolanus said firmly, standing up from his crouch. “Get up. We're heading back to base,” he reached out a hand to you, which you took after a moment's hesitation. He helped you stand, silently conveying to act naturally before stepping out from behind the building.

You had no choice but to go along with Coriolanus' questionable plan, clinging to the hope that he knew what he was doing.

Little did you grasp the reality—that he was the cunning architect behind the recorded conversation. Sejanus wouldn't show up at the lake beyond District 12's boundaries. Instead, his fate would take a dark turn as he dangled lifeless from a tree in a matter of days.

[pinchofhoney]

ur snow fics are incredible!! i can’t stop rereading them 💌💌

thank you so much❣️ it’s so nice to read that, thank you!!

[pinchofhoney]

i love ur snow fics oml keep it up !!

oh, thank you so much!!<33

i’m currently working on the new one shot, and i’d have posted it few days ago, but i got into writer's block, and i’m quite stuck:((

doing my best to get out of it tho, so stay tuned and thank you once again!!

[pinchofhoney]

Hi, could you write something for Coryo x reader were the reader is close if not equally as evil in the end. How would that relationship work? idk just a thought I had use it if you wish

crack in the mirror

coriolanus snow x fem!reader

word count: 1.8k

warning: i think none

summary: Many cling to the belief of their own goodness, until they meet someone who's just like them.

a/n: hii, thank you so much for your request!! i hope you'll enjoy what i've written for you!<33

pages that may interest you: masterlist ♡ taglist ♡ who i write for

taglist: @watercolorskyy

gif is not mine, credit to the owner

How did it all begin?

With the 10th Hunger Games, where your academic excellence earned you the role of mentor to one of the tributes.

It was a time of innocence and youthful ambition, back when your paths met within the shadowy corridors of the Capitol's Academy. You and Coriolanus were close friends, unstained by the cruelty that life had in store for you and you pretty often looked back on those days, memories of laughter, shared dreams, and an unwavering friendship etched in your mind.

The two of you were bound by a shared ambition, shining among the brightest stars, each destined for greatness in the eyes of those who believed in you. The world was your playground, and you were determined to conquer it. Little did you know how that fateful year, with its trials and tribulations, would set the course of your life on a much darker path.

As the mentor to Treech from District 7, you hadn't yet embraced the darkness that would soon consume you. Back then, you were as eager as your colleagues, hoping to prove your worth, do your best, and guide your tribute to victory. It was pretty cruel twist of fate that Lucy Gray Baird, with her haunting charm and cunning nature, would change the course of everything.

In the heart of those unforgettable 10th Hunger Games, within the unforgiving arena, your dreams and aspirations slowly began to twist and corrode. Ambition transformed into ruthless manipulation, friendship into subtle deception, and innocence into a devouring thirst for power. The venomous snake mutt that took Treech's life before your very eyes became a symbol of the ruthless transformation that was gradually overtaking you.

That year marked the beginning of your involvement in the Games and the emergence of a darkness that would one day reflect the very core of President Snow himself. The metropolis watched, captivated by the spectacle of the tributes battling for their lives, while behind the scenes, a bitter change took root.

As you stood alongside the other students in the viewing room, preoccupied with the tributes, a chill ran down your spine. You didn't yet grasped the feeling, but something fundamental had shifted within you. You couldn't shake the realization that in the Capitol, victory meant survival, and survival allowed for anything. Lucy Gray's actions, no matter how brutal, were merely a reflection of the society to which you belonged.

Coriolanus tried to hold onto the purity of your friendship, to keep the darkness at bay, but you were the values he progressively ignored. Ambition has a way of distorting even the best intentions, and the path you had chosen was covered in shadows and secrecy.

As the Games progressed, the transformation hastened. The bonds you had formed with others became instruments of manipulation, and you enjoyed your newfound ability to bend their will to your desires.

The suffering of each tribute, each extinguished life, stoked the icy flames of ambition within you. You clutched to the logic that to climb up the Capitol's hierarchy, you had to be willing to destroy all who stood in the way. Your heart grew cold, your smile more deceitful, and your soul darkened, much like the future President of Panem that Coriolanus didn't yet realize he would become.

The Games ended with Treech taking the third place, a result you considered an absolute failure. It served as the catalyst for your final descent into the abyss. You had only tasted a little bit of success, and you hungered for more. The purity of your friendship with Coriolanus had been definitely tarnished, and the darkness that enveloped you continued.

The 10th Hunger Games and the Gamemakers marked not just the beginning of a change within you, but also foreshadowed the dark days to come.

You and Coriolanus would be leaders of a world where cruelty and manipulation held authority.

You had come a long way since those innocent days at the Academy, where laughter and shared dreams were the currency of friendship. As the Head Gamemaker, you wielded power over life and death, orchestrating the annual Hunger Games spectacle that captivated the Capitol.

Your importance in the Capitol was undeniable, but the bonds of friendship that once connected you to young Snow had weakened, stretched to their limits, and threatened to break. Since your graduation from the Academy, the warmth of your interactions had been replaced by a chilling formality. The echoes of your former closeness had grown faint, drowned out by the sounds of the ruthless Games you helped design.

Coriolanus, still crawling in his presidency, remained in your life as a hint of your teenage years and shared mentorship past. He was both intrigued and disturbed by the ideas you injected into the Games each year, but he never consciously acknowledged the rot that had taken root within him as well.

As the Head Gamemaker, you reveled in the dark art of power, where tributes became pawns and suffering was blend into the very fabric of the arena. Your ambitions had propelled you to the highest echelons of Capitol society, but the biggest cost had been the destruction of the humanity that once defined you.

Determined, you made your way to the meeting room, eager to introduce Coriolanus to your plan for the 23rd Hunger Games.

He was already there, wearing an expression that mixed curiosity with apprehension. You greeted him with a cool nod, fully aware of how your interactions had grown more formal over the years.

“Coryo,” you began, saying the familiar diminutive you'd used back at the Academy. The warmth of that old friendship may have cooled, but the nickname had grown in you, a habit you couldn't shake when you were alone with him. “I've prepared something truly phenomenal for this year's Games. Something that will cause goosebumps on the skin of every viewer, let alone the tributes in the arena,” you said, locking your gaze with your old friend with a mysterious smirk on your lips.

In response, Coriolanus leaned in with growing curiosity. “Please, continue,” he urged, which only caused a wider smile on your face.

You gestured toward a holographic projection on the wall, revealing a sinister, genetically created creature. Its elongated limbs, razor-sharp claws, and grotesque, misshapen features created a nightmarish creation.

“This,” you declared, “is the Umbra Noctis. It's a creature designed to terrify and torture the tributes in ways they could never have imagined. With its ability to blend into the shadows, it will stalk them relentlessly, striking fear into their hearts.”

Coriolanus observed the creature, a mixture of fascination and consternation in his eyes, narrowing the gap between you. “But how does it differ from the mutts we've used before?”

You leaned in, your voice dropping to a chilling whisper. “It carries a venom that induces hallucinations, distorting reality for its victims. The terror it inflicts will be as much psychological as it is physical.”

As you detailed your plan, the room seemed to grow colder, and the weight of your shared darkness pressed on Coriolanus. You described the various mutants and horrors destined for the arena, all designed to heighten the tributes' fear and despair.

“I want the 23rd Hunger Games to be remembered as the most nightmarish ever,” you declared. “A spectacle that reveals the true depths of human darkness, concealed behind the Capitol's glittering facade.”

As the weight of your words settled in the room, Coriolanus’ initial curiosity gave way to a growing skepticism. He couldn't help but question the depths of darkness you were willing to immerse.

“Isn't this,” Coriolanus began, his voice cautious, “perhaps too much, even for the Hunger Games? We want to entertain, to captivate the audience, not to... terrify to the point of despair.”

You turned to him, your gaze firm, and for a moment, the professional mask slipped, revealing the abyss beneath. “Coryo, don't you see? The Capitol's fascination with the Games is not just about entertainment. It's about the harsh reality that we, as a society, have become as ruthless and depraved as the Games themselves. We are a reflection of the horrors we create.”

Coriolanus eyed you, his features a blend of recognition and disquiet. Your words had hit the spot, reminding him that he, too, played a role in Panem's transformation as its president.

You continued, your voice now nearly a whisper, “The darkness, Coryo, is not just within the arena but within us. The Games merely show what has always been there. It's a reflection of who we've become, and it's time we faced that truth.”

For a brief moment, Coriolanus seemed to confront his own rottenness, an unsettling truth that had long been concealed in the shadows of his conscience and the room fell silent.

With measured steps, you circled around Coriolanus, stopping in front of him. You met his calm gaze, finding in it the shadow of chaos, reflecting his soul.

Your eyes wandered over his attire, and with a calculated, gentle touch, you adjusted the rose on his chest before gracing him with a faint smile.

“Look at you,” you began, taking a step back, creating a clear distance between you. “Remember when you used to fear Dr. Gaul? And now, what have you become?” your next question followed swiftly, with no pause for his response.

“You're the man who sends innocent kids to their deaths every year, a cruel reminder to the districts of who hold the power, who is in control. And I? I'm just one of the instruments in your hands.”

Your words hung in the air, and as Coriolanus opened his mouth to respond, you silenced him with an unspoken urgency. “You might tell yourself that you can sleep soundly, shifting the responsibility onto me and my team, washing your hands clean of the blood. But deep down, you know it's a lie, don't you?”

Coriolanus met your gaze, a blend of defiance and self-denial in his eyes. He had always been skilled at pushing the truth aside, shielding himself from the reality he had become.

“You're mistaken,” he finally said, his voice tensed. “I have a duty to maintain order, to ensure the Capitol's dominance. The Games are a means to an end, a necessary evil.”

Your expression remained unwavering as you countered, “But do you truly believe that, Coryo? Do you truly believe it's as simple as maintaining order? The depths of cruelty we've reached, the horrors we've unleashed, they go beyond mere necessity.”

He opened his mouth to respond, to argue his case further, but a hint of doubt flickered in his eyes, betraying the internal struggle within. The truth you had spoken, the darkness he had tried to repress, clawed at the edges of his conscience.

“That's what I thought,” you said with a note of satisfaction in your eyes, and resumed presenting your plan as if nothing had happened, not paying attention to Coriolanus' confusion. However, the shift in the room's atmosphere was palpable, and the unspoken tension lingered.

[pinchofhoney]

broken promises, part three

« part one | part two | part three (the last one)

coriolanus snow x fem!reader

word count: 3.4k

warning: angst, we used to be close but people can go from people you know to people you don't, mention of helping in the rebellion

summary: In Snow's world, only one thing mattered more than his family's reputation—you. But that was before he met Lucy Gray.

a/n: so,, this is the end of this little story of a heartbreak. thank you for sticking with it<33 for more coriolanus content, feel free to drop by my inbox where you can leave your ideas for the next oneshots!!

pages that may interest you: masterlist ♡ taglist ♡ who i write for

taglist: @metalarmsandmanbuns @mavkaorlova @strangegril002 @thathoefromcollage

gif is not mine, credit to the owner

You'd be lying if you pretended not to be invested in the 10th Hunger Games. With Academy students participating this year, you had no choice but to follow the competition's every twist and turn, but even if it had been different, you'd have still tuned in from your home's television screen.

Despite the heated exchanges and angry words directed at Coriolanus, your best wishes were always with him. You genuinely hoped for nothing but the best for him, believing he'd achieve the deserved success he'd strived for and reach his craved scholarship, a gateway to boundless opportunities. In your heart, you rooted for Lucy Gray Baird's victory, as that seemed to be the only path leading to Coriolanus's dreams coming true.

Seeing Coriolanus each day in his perfectly fitted Academy uniform, hiding behind a facade of indifference that he never pull off around anyone outside his inner circle, playing the part of the model student, brought you pain. He gave off the impression that your past relationship had left no mark on him, leaving you in the dark about his true emotions and what was going on within his mind for the first time.

You were aware that everyone in your class had picked up on the shift between you and Coriolanus, though they tactfully avoided discussing it openly. You appreciated their silent understanding; no one was prying, and it allowed you to avoid discussing the painful change that had taken place. You didn't owe anyone an explanation, but it was easier to bear the weight of the situation when it remained unspoken. It stung to know that some girl from the District now held a more important place in your boyfriend's heart than you, someone he had known since childhood and shared the darkest moments of his life with.

The breakup with Coriolanus hit you like someone’s death. When you returned to the family penthouse, tears flowed endlessly from your eyes, and you couldn't seem to stop them. The persistent crying left you dehydrated, lying on your bed, cocooned in a blanket, your eyes red and swollen, and a pounding headache. The idea of consuming even a morsel of food felt impossible, and every inch of your room was a constant reminder of the moments you had shared with Coriolanus.

At times, you really wanted to approach him, to take the blame, to apologize for reacting hastily and to tell him that you should have let him handle things. But he treated you as if you were transparent. He had to feel your gaze on him, yet he chose to act as if you didn't exist, focusing all his attention on the Arena's broadcast screens, eagerly awaiting Lucy Gray's appearance.

As soon as the victory of the tribute from the Twelfth District became evident, you leaped to your feet, a genuine smile lighting up your face. Joining in the cheers and applause of your friends, you felt an urge to rush towards Coriolanus, but the memory of his distant gaze held you back. You knew you were no longer part of his happiness, no longer someone he wanted to share joy with.

With a lump in your throat, you discreetly cleared it, glancing around at other students. They seemed too absorbed in their own celebrations to notice your abrupt outburst. And so, you continued clapping, though the enthusiasm had waned, and the smile on your lips had dimmed.

You watched as Festus and a few other students hoisted Coriolanus onto a chair and paraded him around the podium and when they eventually placed him back on the ground, he turned his gaze toward you for the first time since your break up.

It was a brief look, lacking the joy in his eyes from seconds ago, but tinged with sense of satisfaction. It was a satisfaction born from the unexpected outcome, a result opposite to your wish for him to lose.

Afterward, all the students were directed into the dining hall to celebrate Coriolanus's victory with cake and posca.

And no longer after, the boy simply disappeared, slipping away from the festivities.

As the final echoes of the Games' noisy cheers faded away, an unsettling silence descended upon the Capitol, and your mind was left in a whirlwind of questions and concern. The explanation provided by the Academy for Coriolanus's sudden departure to one of the districts, where he was enlisting for as a Peacekeeper, seemed like an ill-fitting puzzle piece in his life.

You knew Coriolanus better than most, his ambitions, his dreams, his unrelenting pursuit of victory. This decision, so out of character, scratched at the corners of your consciousness like an itch you couldn't quite reach. The nagging sense that something was amiss and missing from the narrative was an ever-present companion, casting a shadow over your thoughts.

But the mystery didn't end with his sudden departure. The day following the Games' conclusion, it was as if someone had meticulously wiped away any trace of the event's existence. Records, footage, and even the very name Lucy Gray Baird were methodically excised from history's pages. The thoroughness of this situation left you in a state of bewildered disbelief. The memories and echoes of the Games, once so vivid, now seemed to have been cast into a gap of forgotten time.

Your mind was a whirlwind of questions, each one clamoring for answers, but you knew that the truth was hidden beyond your reach. In all of these Capitol secrets, you had no choice but to accept the narrative spun by Doctor Gaul and Dean Highbottom, even if it left you feeling like a mere puppet, dancing to their tune.

You just clung to the belief that Coriolanus was out there, safe, and somehow untouched by the Capitol's ominous machinations. You didn't know the real reason for his leaving, but thoughts of his comfort were your only solace.

You longed to see him again, not only because of the warmth of his presence, but also because of the secrets he could hold. Yet, deep down, you knew that even if he were to find his way back to the heart of Panem, you would likely be the last person on his list to seek out.

On a day that was just like any other, as the Capitol went about its business, you found yourself outside your penthouse. It was just another moment in your everyday routine, all you wanted was to go for a walk, enjoying the last few days before university starts, unaware of things that were about to happen.

You were lost in thought, just looking around the familiar place when suddenly, someone stepped into view and your heart stopped for what seemed like a split second. It was Coriolanus, no doubt about it, but he had changed more than you could have imagined. He used to have those distinctive curls, but now, his hair was much shorter. His whole presence felt more reserved. Even the way he carried himself seemed different from what you were used to. Something about his aura had shifted, and it was not the same energy you once knew, not even the one he usually projected to others. It was a subtle change, but it was there.

Upon realizing that he was heading towards your shared building, a mix of emotions surged within you. Surprise and happiness due to the sight of the person you had missed so intensely warred with the memories of his abrupt departure, and the months of estrangement.

As he drew closer, you couldn't help but hope for a friendly reunion. You wanted to forget the past and bridge the distance that had grown between the two of you, but the Coriolanus who now stood before you was colder, more distant than ever before.

His eyes, which once held warmth and familiarity when they met yours, now seemed to pass right through you, leaving you with an unsettling sense that the Coriolanus you once knew had changed into a stranger.

“Coryo?” you cautiously greeted him as he drew closer, employing the affectionate diminutive form of his name. “I didn't expect to meet you here.”

Your friendly approach fell upon a wall of silence, an awkward pause hanging heavily between you. The air seemed thick with unresolved tension, and you questioned whether you should have simply pretended not to notice him.

“Dean Highbottom mentioned that you departed for Twelve to join the Peacekeepers,” you continued, attempting to engage him in conversation. Your gaze remained intent on his, even as his bored expression showed little sign of interest. This was undoubtedly one of the most awkward moments of your life, and the hope of a warm reunion was fading with each passing second.

You couldn't help but inquire further, “Was it because of Lucy Gray?”

Upon the mention of the tribute girl's name, a subtle shift occurred in Coriolanus's demeanor. He raised his head slightly, his gaze narrowing and his jaw clenching. The unexpected reaction baffled you, and a crease of confusion formed between your brows as you tried to comprehend his change in demeanor.

“Lucy Gray is gone,” he stated, his words dripping with coldness and arrogance, once again underscoring the transformation in his character. The warmth and compassion that had once defined your interactions now felt like distant memories, leaving you in the stark shadow of your shared past.

“Gone?” you repeated. His statement was quite confusing, and you struggled to grasp its meaning.

Without offering any clarification, he continued his stride towards the building's entrance, as if your presence had become irrelevant to him. Desperate for answers that had slipped away form you for far too long, you reached out and gently grasped the sleeve of his shirt to stop him.

“Coryo, wait,” you begged, looking into his eyes for a flicker of the person you used to know. The frigid stare he returned sent a chill through your spine, but your curiosity pushed you forward. “What happened? After... well, after you disappeared.”

His gaze dipped to where your fingers held on to his shirt, and the tension between you grew palpable. When you finally let go, his eyes met yours once more, and he spoke in a voice that held a hint of gentleness. “Do you really want to know what happened?” he asked, tilting his head to the side. He maintained his distance, standing tall and appearing to gaze down at you.

You didn't particularly like this version of Coriolanus, but at the same time you couldn't back down now; you had yearned for this moment for months.

In response to his question, you offered a simple nod, a silent invitation for him to share. The silence hung between you, heavy and full of unspoken emotions. Coriolanus glanced around, checking for any unwelcome listeners nearby, before answering.

“I've been through a living hell,” he responded curtly, leaving a trail of unresolved questions lingering in the air, but before you could voice these unspoken thoughts, he continued.

“I was forced to follow relentless orders each day, enduring the scorching sun that left burns on my skin, and the agony of taking three lives,” he recounted, as if each experience weighed equally on his conscience. “And those damn songbirds... they're a nightmare. They can drive you to the brink of insanity.”

You sought answers in his eyes, searching for any glimmer of the person you had known, but what you found was far from the warmth and compassion you remembered. It was as if something within him had been replaced by a hint of disdain.

“She betrayed me,” he continued, his voice carrying the weight of bitter disappointment, before you had time to sort out the chaos in your head. “Just when I thought I could escape it all and start a new life without constantly looking over my shoulder, she chose to abandon me.”

“What do you mean, Coryo?” you questioned, your forehead creased with worry as you gazed into his eyes.

“I killed Sejanus Plinth,” he confessed. Your lips parted in shock, and without realizing it, you instinctively moved a step away, creating a physical gap between you and someone who had once been an open book. Now, it felt as though you knew nothing about him.

You had heard rumors of Sejanus Plinth's death, but the details were murky. The nature of Coriolanus and Sejanus's relationship had always been a subject of speculation, leaving people to wonder whether they were genuine friends or just collagues. Coriolanus had occasionally expressed his frustration with Sejanus to you, but you had never imagined he would go as far as to take such a drastic step.

Coriolanus seemed oblivious to your reaction, his words continuing in a torrent of frustration. “But he deserved it. He could have listened to me and followed the rules for once. Instead, he chose to be a rebel, wanting to play the savior of the districts. That's how rebels end up,” his words were like shards of ice, driven by a wrath you had never seen in him before.

“I killed people who threatened her. I killed those who could be dangerous to Lucy Gray,” Coriolanus murmured. You gazed into his empty eyes as he continued and a sense of dread creeped over you. “And in return, she betrayed me, willing to see me suffer the same fate as Sejanus,” he said with a heavy sigh, shaking his head. “I couldn't let that happen. I couldn't risk being caught when I was mere hours away from leaving this wretched district.”

Your world seemed to crumble under the weight of his shocking confession. The inhumanity of his actions left you speechless, but Coriolanus appeared unaffected by your stunned silence.

He took a step closer, diminishing the gap between you, and you fought the urge to move back or look away from his piercing eyes.

“I'll make them all pay for it,” he declared with a small, unsettling smirk tugging at his lips. There was something in that expression that scared you, and now you were sure the boy standing in front of you was not the Coriolanus you had grown up with. “Every last one of them,” he added, presumably referring to the district residents with disdain.

With those words hanging in the air, he turned and disappeared behind the door of the apartment building, leaving you in a state of confusion and fear.

Many times, as you lay in bed at night, you often found yourself imagining the chance to see Coriolanus again. You wished that somehow, things could go back to the way they used to be, and that the warmth you once shared might return. But, the version of the man you just had a chance to look in the eyes filled you with nothing but fear now.

He seemed colder than his very name.

64 YEARS LATER

The underground room was dimly lit, the soft glow of a single overhead bulb casting elongated shadows on the faces gathered around the table. Maps, documents, and a tactical board cluttered the space, a visual representation of the Rebellion's intricate plans. The tension in the room was palpable, and when you walked in with a woman who bore a striking resemblance to a tiger in her appearance, the rebels shared uncertain, questioning looks.

Katniss, her unmistakable braided hair and fierce gaze, was the first to break the silence. Her voice cut through the tension like a blade, “Why are you doing this?”

Her eyes bore into yours with a mix of curiosity and concern, and you felt a dozen pairs of eyes in the room fixate on you. “Risking your life to help us take down Snow?”

You inhaled a quivering breath when the memories and thoughts weighing heavily upon your chest. In your mind, a series of images flashed – a time when Snow had been had been a very different person. You paused for a moment, your thoughts returning to the Coriolanus you had once been so familiar with. The recollection painted a vivid picture of Coryo as you remembered him: his charming smile, which he had once reserved solely for you, and his distinctive, curly hair.

“I'm doing this,” you began, your voice tinged with pain and longing, “because I used to know him very well.” You deliberately used the diminutive form of his name that had once been so familiar to you, “Coryo. We were close, once.”

The room fell silent, and a myriad of emotions passed over the faces of those assembled. Your words seemed to have caught them off guard, and you could sense their curiosity and concern.

“We were in a relationship, but he's not the person I once loved anymore. This Snow, the one we're fighting against now, is a monster. He's not the Coryo I knew. He deserves the worst.”

Peeta, who sat beside Katniss, let out a sigh, and his eyes held a profound understanding. His gaze, a clear blue in the dim light, softened as he looked at you.

“Sometimes people change,” Peeta said, his voice gentle. “I've seen it happen before.”

Katniss's expression hardened with resolve, her determination unwavering. “He's going to regret everything he has done in his life,” she said.

As Katniss's words hung in the air, you felt a wave of knotty emotions churning within you. Your gaze drifted downward to the shelter's dirt floor, where the tears welled up in your eyes, threatening to overflow. For years, you had yearned for justice to be served to Coriolanus, for him to face the consequences of his oppressive rule over Panem. It had been a sincere desire, one that had simmered in your heart, yet now, with the Rebellion's cause so close to success, you found yourself grappling with a bewildering conflict.

Coriolanus had long disregarded you, deeming you unworthy of his attention and companionship. He had tear your connection, but it didn't mean that you had forgotten the feelings you had once for him.

It was his treatment of those who still loved him, the suffering of his cousin Tigris, who had been a close friend of yours, that weighed on your heart. She had selflessly helped Coriolanus throughout the war, supported him during his first mentorship and long after, but his attitude toward her changed with each passing year, and you couldn't understand why.

Over the years, Coriolanus had allowed the Hunger Games to evolve into something even more grotesque and brutal, making even bigger spectacle out of the tributes' deaths. It had been a source of disgust, a reflection of his growing cruelty. You were repulsed by the Capitol, sickened by Snow's insatiable thirst for power and the desire to see him removed from his seat of authority had been a driving force.

Yet, something within you was blocking your resolve, sowing seeds of doubt and uncertainty. The conflict within your heart was a huge storm, with one part pulling you toward the rebellion and the other tethered to a past that still held the remains of the Coriolanus you had once known, loved, and miss.

But that boy from your youth was a distant memory, swallowed by the Coriolanus who had emerged over the years, especially during his time in the Twelfth District shortly after his victory in the Games.

You raised your eyes to meet Katniss's, and in that moment, your mind drifted to Lucy Gray Baird, an ironic twist of fate that wasn't lost on you.

As Katniss observed your internal struggle, her sharp instincts sensed that there was more to your hesitancy than met the eye. She furrowed her brows, her gaze unwavering, and asked, “Is there something else you would like to share?”

Peeta, who had been observing you quietly, echoed her concern with a compassionate look in his eyes. His gentle tone conveyed understanding as he said, “You can talk to us, you know. We've all had our reasons for joining this fight.”

Your throat felt constricted, and you struggled to find your voice amidst the chaos of emotions. With a hurried swallow and a deep breath to steady yourself, you cleared your throat and shook your head. You offered a smile, though it felt forced and inadequate for the gravity of the moment, as you moved closer to the table filled with scattered papers.

“So what’s the plan?” you asked, attempting to shift the focus away from you. Your eyes darted around the faces of those gathered around the tabletop, eager to immerse yourself in the cause, to be part of the solution to the crisis at hand.

[pinchofhoney]

oh my!! i absolutely love that!<33 thank you so much!

Deeper Love

Hello everyone ! Here is another request that was made for my 6k event by @pinchofhoney : “hello!! i just wanted to congratulate you once again! you’re amazing writer and as i already said – you deserve every of these follows!!<;33

of course, i’d love to take part in your event!! can i have a ben barnes with friends with benefits to lovers? 🙈

thank you so much! and have a great day (or night, if you’re reading this right now hahah)”

Thank you so much for your request! I hope you like this little piece!

Hope you all like this fic. Tell me what you think :)

****

Pairing: Ben Barnes x reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, NO ACTUAL NSFW BUT MENTIONS OF SEX SO NO MINORS HERE!!

Summary: Ben and you have been friends with benefits for a few months. And it was all fun and game, until feelings got into the fray…

Word Count: 3362

Ben Barnes’ Masterlist – Main Masterlist

Ben watched you getting dressed. It was a sight he had grown accustomed to, it was almost familiar, really. Slipping your bra on, your underwear, your blue jeans… He watched you fix your hair in the mirror, studying your reflection until you were satisfied. He knew all about your morning routine, from the temperature of your shower, the time spent brushing your teeth, to your favourite food for breakfast.

It was almost domestic at this point. It was forming habits. Like the spare toothbrush in his bathroom, and his extra pair of jeans in your drawer.

And yet you weren’t together. You were… just friends.

Just friends…

Only, with benefits. The benefits being sex, of course. Long nights spent in pleasure, in astronomical bliss. A solution, at first, to fulfil a pulsion, an urge you had both felt, an itch to be scratched. Nothing serious, nothing complicated, nothing to get attached to. Just two friends pleasuring each other. Nothing less, nothing more. It was the deal.

And it worked. For the first few weeks, it worked brilliantly. You were quickly at ease with each other, and your nights and mornings most definitely became filled with pleasure… and it was all going smoothly.

But then you left your toothbrush at his place, along with some perfume, some soap and a bottle of shampoo; because it was easier that way and you liked taking a shower with him.

And then he left his cologne at your place, a sweater and t-shirt, because it was simply easier to get ready without going back to his apartment.

And then, your usually-friendly activities took a more romantic turn. Holding hands in the dark room of a cinema, cuddling on the sofa, resting your palm on his thigh as he drove, his foot touching your leg as you ate dinner.

And then there was the shift between your intimate moments too. Learning every inch of the other’s body, every touch that turned into a shudder, every stroke that brought out a moan. And then the pleasure turned intimate, truly intimate when it started carrying affection, beyond pure bliss. Tenderness mingling with fervent thrusts, and hands clanging onto each other, shallow breaths broken in sync, connection in every meeting of lips, affection sipping in every new touch and flowing deeper in your hearts every time you saw stars.

And with every night spent together and every morning awakening in each other’s arms, Ben and you had grown closer, with having sex slowly evolving into making love.

Love… When did that word appear to define you?

As Ben leaned against the doorframe of his bathroom, arms crossed before his chest, hair still dishevelled after a shower with you, he tried to figure out when he became so attached.

After all, he was always attached to you. Because you were a friend, even before you became more than that. But when did he start feeling for you, in a romantic fashion?

Because he did. Feel. A stammer of the heart every time you looked at him, a breath caught in his throat every time you touched, a heartbeat skipped whenever you came into view… And a longing, furled right there, in his chest and stomach, an aching that never left, whenever you weren’t around, that was eased only by your nearness, only by a touch to make sure you were there.

He was in love with you. After four months of this arrangement, Ben was hopelessly, thoroughly in love with you.

And yet he was still holding onto this label. Just friends… with benefits.

The more he contemplated the situation, the more he reckoned that this label would lead to just friends with heartbreaks…

“Any plans for the weekend?”

You asked him as you turned towards the door, readjusting your camisole, the green one he adored, that fitted your form to perfection.

“Not much. You?”

“Not much.”

“Wanna go out on Saturday night, then? They’re making a James Stewart theme for this month at the cinema you like. You know? The one near your place…?”

But you cut him off with a shake of your head.

“Actually, I’m not free this Saturday.”

“Oh, okay. Going out with the usual gang of rogues?” he joked, referring to your friends. But you shook your head again.

“I have a date, actually.”

All of a sudden, every muscle of his body was taunt. His hand clasped onto his own arms, as if looking for support, but finding none. He was almost hugging himself at this point.

“Oh…” he breathed, and that was the only sound he could let out.

“Hmmm… with Stan. You know, my neighbour?”

“Your neighbour?”

“Yeah, the cute guy.”

“Oh… okay.”

You raised an eyebrow as you noticed the way he grew a little paler, the way he averted his eyes, the way he moved slightly away from you…

How could you have missed the signs, they were too obvious.

“We said we weren’t exclusive,” you pointed out, and Ben was terrible at hiding the way your words hurt.

You were right all the same.

“You’re right. I’m not saying anything.”

“You don’t seem thrilled by the idea.”

“We’re sleeping together.”

“Yes, I had noticed..”

“Have been for the past four months.”

“I am well aware.”

“We’re lovers.”

“Yes. And?”

“And… I don’t know. I like it that way.”

And the shrug you gave him in response finished to break his heart.

“I like it too. We’re… I think we’re very… compatible, when it comes to intimacy. But I want a real relationship. And we’ve agreed that what’s going on between us is not meant for the long run, it’s not to become serious.”

Slowly, Ben nodded.

“Yeah, we did.”

“I’m free on Sunday, though. We can go to the movies then.”

But Ben shook his head.

“I’ll be busy on Sunday. Lines to learn,” he answered elusively, and you knew he was lying, but you didn’t say anything about it.

“Okay, well… next week then.”

“Yeah… next week.”

But when you tried to walk past him, Ben held onto your arm, stopping you.

“If you start dating this guy… we should stop our arrangement.”

“Why? I haven’t had a date with him yet. It might go terribly wrong.”

“But if you want to start dating someone else, may it be him or anyone else, for that matter… we should stop.”

There was defiance in your stance as you answered, and Ben didn’t know what to make of it.

“What makes you think I haven’t dated anyone else these past few months?”

It took him a moment for the spinning to stop, for the world to be steady again. But then his rational brain kicked back in, and he shook his head with a frown.

“We agreed to tell each other that, at the beginning.”

“Did we?”

You knew the answer already, but he answered all the same, his tone bitter now, almost angry.

“Should I run a check-up, then? Should I get tested for something?”

You rolled your eyes, annoyed too.

“No,” you mumbled under your breath. “There was no one else.”

Ben’s heart gave a content jump, and he hated it.

“Right… there was no one else for me either.”

“There was no one else sexually,” you added, and he knew you were being mean, and probably lying. He still fell for it.

You regretted your words immediately when you saw a jolt of pain passing through his eyes, right before he could control his reaction.

“Right…”

“It’s nothing serious. Anyway… yeah, I guess we’ll have to stop if I like him and want to give him a chance. Do you have a problem with that?”

But Ben shook his head, jaw set and something a bitter, a little defiant burning in his black eyes.

“No, of course not. You’re a big girl. You can do as you please. Besides, you’re right… I should start looking for something serious again too.”

You nodded, slowly, glaring at each other now.

“You should.”

Before he could say anything else, you broke free and walked out of the bathroom.

When you aimed straight for the front door, though, picking up your shoes, Ben’s bitterness turned into sadness, almost desperation.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m working today.”

“Yes, but… you haven’t eaten anything.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“I’ve made your favourite pancakes…”

You paused, looked up at him. He didn’t seem angry anymore. He was even paler than before, the flush of annoyance replaced by the white of fear and disappointment. His tone was softer now, begging even. It screamed a silent message.

Stay. I’m sorry. Stay.

But you shook your head.

“I want to go to work early. I really need to leave. Thanks for the pancakes, though.”

For the last month-and-a-half, you and Ben kissed every time you met and whenever you parted. Not this time, though. This time, you turned your back to him, opened the door, and left without a single touch, a sweet word, or a brush of lips. Instead, you threw only coldness at him.

When the door closed, and Ben was left staring at nothing but an empty space, it felt like his entire world crumbled.

Slowly, a tear rolled down his cheek. He didn’t bother brushing it away.

Saturday night arrived, and with it an awful lot of tissues, ice cream, and Keira Knightley looking stunning while she chastised a proud Mr. Darcy.

After all, desperate situations called for desperate measures. So, as you were buried under a blanket on your sofa, you were getting ready for a lonely evening spent mourning a relationship that never existed in the first place and wallowing in your self-pity. Yes, that sounded like a good plan. A better one than your attempt at lying to Ben to make him react and talk about your relationship – or lack thereof – at least…

Of course, there was no date with your neighbour. How could there be one when you were hopelessly, madly in love with your best friend and current ‘casual lover’?

What kind of mess had you let yourself get dragged into when you agreed for this friends-with-benefits situation? It wasn’t as if you didn’t read books or watched movies… you should have known these arrangements always led to heartbreak.

You sniffed loudly, trying to focus on the movie but failing prodigiously to do so. Ben was all you could think of…

Since that morning at his apartment, he had not called, and you had remained just as silent. He didn’t care, clearly. Not like this. You were a damn fool…

You were dipping your spoon in your ice cream when you phone vibrated, and you checked the text you had received while Elizabeth was discovering what Darcy had done to her sister.

Your breath caught in your throat as you read the name on the screen… Ben.

Good evening. Are you still home? Or are you at your date already?

You bit your lip fiercely, hesitating. Judging by the time, you should indeed be on a date right now… should you lie?

You decided to be cautious.

Why are you asking?

His answer was a punch in the guts.

Because I’m in front of your door.

Please, if you’re in there, let me in. We need to talk.

You pressed your palm against your mouth to shush your squeal, turning towards your door. You didn’t even dare to move…

I can here the movie playing, I know you’re in there. Let me in.

Please, love, we need to talk.

But you shook your head as you answered his text.

I’m getting ready for my date, I can’t talk right now.

Silence. You stared at your phone but Ben wasn’t writing.

You jumped as he forcefully knocked at your door (or rather slammed his fist against it).

“Y/N? Please!”

He called for you a couple more times, and you had to give up, wanting to avoid the wrath of your neighbours…

You merely threw away your blanket, put the ice cream and tissues on your coffee table, and hurried to the door. You were wearing sweatpants and a large t-shirt, but you didn’t have time to change.

“Ben! Are you out of your fucking mind?!” you glowered at him as you opened the door just a few inches, hiding your body behind the wooden surface.

He frowned hard.

“Please, let me in.”

“No. I don’t want to.”

“What now? Are you afraid of me or something?”

Yes, you thought, I’m afraid of how much I love you while you feel nothing for me at all… I’m afraid you’re going to break my heart if I let you in.

“I don’t want to see you. I have to get ready for my date. I don’t have time right now…”

“Don’t go on that date.”

You frowned hard.

“What?”

“Please, Y/N. Don’t go on this date. Don’t date this guy.”

“Why not?”

You let out a bitter laugh.

“So you can keep fucking me when you feel lonely?”

Pain shot through Ben’s frame and face, and you hated yourself for causing such an emotion in him.

“So… it was truly just sex for you?” he asked, his voice shaking.

“Wasn’t it supposed to be just sex?”

“It hasn’t been just sex for months, Y/N. I thought you felt it too.”

You stared at each other, rendered breathless by the confession. Slowly, as if he were afraid that you would run away if he moved too fast, Ben took hold of the door, and gently pushed it open.

“Let me in. Please.”

You yielded, despite your better judgement, or perhaps simply despite your fear. He raised a surprised eyebrow at your outfit.

“I thought you were getting ready,” he breathed, closing the door behind him.

But you ignored his question, crossing your arms before your chest.

“I don’t understand what you want,” you admitted.

His answer was brutally honest, you were surprised by it.

“You. I want you.”

“But you said it would be too complicated. That’s why we came up with this arrangement…”

“I know. It was stupid.”

“This… us… it doesn’t exist. It’s just sex…”

But he frowned hard, walking closer, until he could reach for you, holding on your upper arms in a firm yet gentle hold.

“At first, yes. For about a couple of weeks. But it quickly became much more than that.”

“You always said…”

“We’ve already stated that I’m the most idiotic man on the planet, Y/N.”

“No, you’re not. That’s why it hurts a lot. Because you’re not stupid. Therefore, you just don’t feel anything.”

He opened, then closed his mouth in a hurry, as if catching himself.

You took his silence as an agreement, and as it broke, your heart became harder also. Your voice was cold as you spoke again, as you took a step back, freeing yourself from his hands.

“I think we should stop being friends with benefits. I don’t want that anymore.”

“Okay,” he agreed with ease, and you didn’t know what to make of the glitter of hope you saw sparkling in his dark eyes. “Let’s stop that. We could…”

“I don’t think we should see each other again.”

Your entire frame shuddered as you recognized fear and pain in Ben’s eyes.

“What?”

“I don’t want to see you again.”

Your voice was firmer than the way you felt. Ben’s lips trembled.

He blinked a couple of times, and then he was taking a step towards you again, chasing after you, holding you back…

“Look… I know that I’ve fucked up, okay? I know that… this was a bad idea, and we should have talked about it sooner. But I don’t want to lose you.”

You heaved a sigh. And it hurt as you let the words out, but Ben needed to hear them, just as much as you needed to release the feelings you had been withholding for too long.

“Ben… this can’t go on. It was fun at first, but I… the truth is, I have feelings for you. I want to be with you. Like… really with you. And you won’t give me that. So, I think we should stop seeing each other, before it breaks our hearts…”

“You’re already breaking mine.”

You stared at him, stunned, letting your guard down long enough for him to reach up to cup your face in his warm palms.

“Please, give me another chance,” Ben begged, his voice barely more than a whisper, and you could see tears shining in his eyes. “I should have told you sooner, but… I was afraid. I was afraid because I have feelings for you as well. And I want to be the one to take you on dates, not your neighbour, not anyone else…”

“You’re jealous?”

“Yes,” he admitted. “Yes, I’m jealous. I want you. I want no one else to kiss you or touch you and most certainly not have sex with you. I want… I want this. I want you.”

You could have fallen for it all, and you knew it, but you didn’t, even if you wanted to. Instead, you started to cry, broke free, shook your head.

“I can’t…”

“Yes, you can. We can do this…”

“You didn’t say anything when I told you I was going out tonight…”

“I wasn’t happy about it, and I reckon you noticed that.”

“You didn’t hold me back. You didn’t…”

You heaved a frustrated sigh.

“I’m in love with you, Ben,” you confessed, and it felt both liberating and dreadfully painful. “I… I don’t even have a real date tonight! I was just… I wanted to see if you wanted me, and you let me go…”

“I’m here tonight, aren’t I?”

You stared at him a little longer. He was dishevelled, out of breath. He looked desperate…

“I’m here,” he repeated. “And yes, again, it took me too long to move my stupid arse, but I’m here. And I… I love you.”

He let his words sink in, you looked at him with so much hope…

“I love you, Y/N,” he repeated. “I’ve been in love with you for a long time. It wasn’t just sex, not for me, it hasn’t been just sex for months. And you’re right, I held back, and kept on bringing up this stupid arrangement, because I was a coward. A proper coward. But I was always in love with you. And you were always more than a way to have sex. You were always so, so much more, Y/N. You were always in my head, and always in my heart and just… come on, you must have felt it. The way everything changed after a mere couple of weeks. The way I haven’t been fucking you in months but making love to you, every time.”

He ran a hand through your hair.

“Give me another chance. Come with me on a date tomorrow. Nothing too fancy, just us. I’ll make a picnic. I’ll take you to your favourite spot. I’ll do anything you want. I’ll beg if I have to. Give me another chance. We’ll do it properly this time around, I promise.”

“So… we’ll be exclusive?”

“Absolutely.”

“We’ll be officially together.”

“A couple, yes. I won’t have anything else anymore.”

“You won’t break my heart, will you?”

His gaze grew more tender.

“No, Y/N. I’ll just love you with every fibre of my being, that’s all.”

He leaned closer, until his forehead rested against yours. And you didn’t stop him, instead, you let him in.

“Okay, I want that too,” you nodded, nose bumping against his in the process.

He grinned, before kissing you, passionately, for a long, long time…

“So… no date tonight?” he asked with a raised eyebrow, finally noticing the movie playing, Elizabeth standing alone in the rain.

“No… just me and good old Mr. Darcy.”

“Want to order some pizza and watch the rest together.”

“Or we can watch it all over again from the start? A new beginning? A second chance?”

He grinned.

“Yeah… yeah, a second chance is all I want…”

And before you could speak again, he was kissing you and making you forget how to breathe.

******************************

Taglist : @sergeantbuckybarnes @reg-arcturus-black @wolfmoonmusic

[pinchofhoney]

broken promises, part two

« part one | part two | part three »

coriolanus snow x fem!reader

word count: 3.6k

warning: angst, feeling of being betrayed, heartbreak

summary: In Snow's world, only one thing mattered more than his family's reputation—you. But that was before he met Lucy Gray.

a/n: it's for those few people who have read part one, thank you<33 i hope more people will crawl here like doctor gaul snakes after the film's premiere, so i'd like to ask: do you want a third part in which our lovely reader meets snow again after his return to the capitol? 🐍

pages that may interest you: masterlist ♡ taglist ♡ who i write for

taglist: @metalarmsandmanbuns

gif is not mine, credit to the owner

Welcome to the Capitol.

The resonance of those four simple words echoed through your thoughts as you sat in the grand living room of your family's penthouse. The room was bathed in soft, golden light, a stark contrast to the surreal scenes that played out on the broadcast, straight from the Capitol's zoo.

After Coriolanus had greeted Lucy Gray on the platform, exchanging a few words with the young tribute, he turned to you, his eyes filled with determination as the girl was now walking away, heading toward a boy from her district.

“I should go with her,” he said with a sense of urgency in his voice as he glanced back at the girl in the rainbow dress.

“What do you mean?” your brows knitted in confusion, asking a question which redirected his gaze to you.

“I should escort her to her accommodation, I must show her that I am trustworthy,” he explained in haste and without waiting for your response, he stepped to the side and reached out to get the attention of one of the Peacekeepers by lightly touching the man's arm.

“Excuse me,” Coriolanus began. “I’m Coriolanus Snow from the Academy.” He nodded toward Lucy Gray. “This tribute has been assigned to me for the Hunger Games. I wonder if I might accompany her to her quarters.”

The Peacekeeper's gaze flitted over Coriolanus' shoulder, briefly meeting yours before responding, “That’s why you've been hanging around here all morning? To catch a ride to the show?” He granted permission for Coriolanus to join the tributes, adding, “Just you,” as he directed his attention to the transport truck destined for the tributes.

Your gaze followed the Peacekeeper's, and as you glimpsed the vehicle awaiting the tributes, your mouth fell open in surprise. Stepping closer to Coriolanus, you took his hand.

“You're not going to get in there, are you, Coryo?” your concern shifted from the truck to Coriolanus, your brows furrowing as you made a plea through your eyes. The transport before you resembled a wheeled animal cage, starkly underscoring the Capitol's dehumanization of the tributes.

“I can't leave her alone,” Coriolanus stated, briefly glancing your way before gently pulling his hand away and moving toward the vehicle.

“Yes, you can,” you protested, following closely behind him as the first tributes began to enter the cage.

“Everything will be fine, Y/N,” Coriolanus reassured you, pausing near the truck. He looked down at you and spoke calmly, trying to ease the visible anxiety on your face. He brushed tenderly a strand of hair behind your ear and held your gaze. “Go home and don't worry, I'll come visit you later, okay?”

“You don't have to do this, Coryo…”

“I’ll be fine,” he said, turning to face the vehicle. He made eye contact with Lucy Gray and not even a moment had passed when he was already climbing onto the truck.

You wanted to say more, to stop him from taking this step, but you understood it was too late. Coriolanus had already made up his mind, and he wasn't one to back down. You anxiously bit your lip, a silent witness as the truck's door slammed shut. A few moments later, the engine roared to life, taking Coriolanus away from you.

Anxiety weighed heavily on your heart as you stood there like a helpless spectator. As the vehicle departed, it stirred up dust, leaving you in loneliness on the platform. You played distracted with the strands of hair Coriolanus had so gently tucked behind your ear. The fading truck held your gaze captive, making it nearly impossible to look away.

Though it felt like an eternity, only a few seconds had passed since Coriolanus had left your side. You took a deep breath, finally releasing your hair from your anxious fingers. With fresh determination, you made your way toward the train station's exit, whispering reassuring words to yourself. You held on to the belief that everything would be all right and that Coriolanus would soon return, just as he had promised, to stand at your doorstep.

Now you were fixated on the television screen, preoccupied in the spectacle playing out in the Capitol's monkey house. Your eyes were following Lucy Gray closely while keeping an eye out for Coriolanus in the background. Your family, including your parents and sister, sat alongside you, intrigued by the broadcast as much as you were.

“What's he doing there?” your father asked, a furrow of confusion creasing his brow. Both your parents held a deep affection for young Snow, but your father had a particular respect for him. He remembered Coriolanus's father, a general during the First Rebellion, and believed him to be a positive influence on you.

“Seems like he's doing his best,” you replied, though your words carried a hint of uncertainty. You were well aware of Coriolanus's determination to shine in his role, to demonstrate to the entire Capitol that the Snow name always remained at the top. And you supported him wholeheartedly, but there was a distinct difference between assuring him of his abilities in the quiet moments and witnessing it all unfold.

After a moment, the metal door of the monkey house slid open, and Coriolanus's voice reached your ears. “Thank you for being with us today. Remember, this is Lucy Gray Baird from the Twelfth District. Drop by the zoo in your free time to say hello. I promise it's worth to meet her.”

Your lip was nervously bitten as you observed Coriolanus planting a tender kiss on Lucy Gray's hand, which she extended for a good bye. When his lips touched her skin, you experienced an unfamiliar sensation. You couldn't quite name the emotion or pinpoint its origin, but it left you feeling uneasy. You couldn't make sense of the emotion's complexity, but you knew you didn't like what you saw, which felt irrational.

As Coriolanus disappeared behind the closing metal door, you reached for the TV remote and switched off the device with a single click. You sank back into the sofa cushions, a heavy sigh escaping your lips, your thoughts in chaos.

Days after Coriolanus's first meeting with Lucy Gray, you couldn't escape the creeping sense of distance that was growing between you and the man who had once been your closest companion. It was as if a heavy cloud of isolation hung over you, casting a shadow on the bond you had cherished for so many years.

His devotion to the Games and his newly formed relationship with Lucy Gray was undeniable, and it began to overshadow the connection you had nurtured for what felt like a lifetime. It was disheartening to witness each passing day pull him further into the role of mentor, to see him dedicating hours upon hours to planning strategies, discussing tactics, and offering unwavering emotional support to Lucy Gray.

You yearned to remain supportive, to be the pillar that he had leaned on for so long, but an unsettling feeling gnawed at you, a feeling of slowly but surely being relegated to the outskirts of his life, as if your importance was diminishing.

Your thoughts on Coriolanus and his rapidly growing relationship with Lucy Gray were a storm of conflicting emotions. On one hand, you couldn't help but respect his unwavering dedication to his role as a mentor, his sincere desire to succeed, and his wholehearted commitment to the Games. Yet, on the other hand, a bitter mixture of jealousy and hate welled up within you. Your place in his life was steadily being eclipsed by someone new, someone unique and gifted. While you had never personally known Coriolanus's mother, you had heard numerous stories that depicted her as a paragon of gentleness and a lover of music—traits you found mirrored in Lucy Gray. It was no wonder that Coriolanus held her in such high regard.

This acknowledgment was a bitter pill to swallow, leaving a lingering taste of sorrow. It simply made you wondering where you now stood in Coriolanus's heart.

But the turning point came just few days after the tributes' arrival in the Capitol when the mentors and their pupils were granted access to the Arena. It was a rare opportunity for the tributes to gain insight into the brutal challenge that awaited them, and Coriolanus was determined to provide Lucy Gray the guidance she so desperately needed.

However, as the mentors and tributes wander into the Arena, a sudden wave of chaos shattered the peace. Two deafening explosions rocked the surroundings, plunging everyone into a maelstrom of fear and pandemonium. Coriolanus was one of the few injured, and he was hurriedly transported to the hospital, where his medical condition was taken care of by Capitol’s nurses.

The following day, he gradually woke up from unconsciousness. You had spend a sleepless night, filled with relentless worry, and now, as you sat by his bedside, a mix of emotions swirled within you. Relief flowed over you like a gentle balm, yet it couldn't wholly assuage the profound concern that continued to clutch at your heart.

When you heard what happened in the Arena, you had immediately asked your father to drive you to the hospital. You were consumed by nervousness for Coriolanus, and the misery he endured within the Arena's walls filled you with a sickening dread. The mere thought of it sent unpleasant shivers down your spine.

As his eyes slowly blinked open, meeting yours, a soft and heartfelt smile graced your lips. “You're awake,” you murmured softly, your voice a blend of relief and worry. “How are you feeling? What happened?” The concern in your eyes was undeniable, reflecting the depth of your worry for his well-being.

“Y/N?” Coriolanus croaked in a hoarse voice. He cleared his throat quickly and sought out the hand that belonged to you, gently squeezing it. “Hi,” he said with a forced smile.

The touch of his hand in yours was a silent promise of connection and comfort. You could see the remnants of fatigue and distress in his eyes, but the smile he summoned, even if forced, warmed your heart.

You couldn't help but lean in closer, your voice gentle and filled with compassion. “I was so worried about you,” you confessed, your concern unmistakable in your tone. “What happened in the Arena? Are you in pain?”

Coriolanus's grip on your hand tightened slightly, and he began to recount the harrowing events. He painted a vivid picture of the chaos, the disarray, and the sheer panic that had gripped them when the bombs exploded. His narrative was disturbing, and as he spoke, the weight of the trauma he had endured seemed to settle upon both of you.

After sharing his part of the story, Coriolanus momentarily fell silent, allowing the unspoken question to linger in the air. It was as if he awaited your inquiry about Lucy Gray, the unspoken thread that connected him to the tribute under his wing. But before you could voice your concern, he gently cleared his throat and, in a voice still laced with the remnants of his hoarseness, asked, “How is Lucy Gray? Is she okay?”

“I-I don’t know,” you answered honestly, your brow gently furrowing with concern. The truth was, Lucy Gray hadn't occupied your thoughts even once. In fact, you hadn't even considered your friends that were taking the place of the mentors, let alone the tributes arriving from the districts. Instead, it was all Coriolanus who had consumed your mind, leaving little room for anyone or anything else.

In response to your uncertainty, Coriolanus offered assurance, though it felt like he was speaking more to himself than to you. “She's strong,” he affirmed, the words laden with the weight of his concern for Lucy Gray. “She saved my life,” he added, and the profound gratitude in his voice was palpable, underscoring the remarkable bond that had formed between the two of them.

In the following days, you made every effort to stay close to Coriolanus whenever you could. The recent events in the Arena had deeply affected both of you, and the mere thought of something similar occurring in the Capitol filled you with dread. You genuinely believed, albeit mistakenly, that your presence could act as a protective shield, guarantee his safety.

Your intentions were sincere and born out of concern, but with each passing day, it became increasingly evident that Coriolanus was becoming increasingly annoyed by your constant presence. While at first he may have appreciated your support, the demands of his mentorship duties and the complexities of preparing Lucy Gray for her role in the 10th Hunger Games began to make your company more of a obstacle than a help.

Tensions, which had once been nonexistent, began to mount, and the nature of your relationship with Coriolanus was going through a sudden changes. You found yourself facing the reality that your kindhearted attempts to shield him were, in fact, pushing him further away when your intention had been quite the opposite, to draw closer.

On your special day, your birthday, you had looked forward to finally spending some quality time with Coriolanus. It was a day where you had hoped to enjoy each other's company, seeking a break from his intense mentorship and the relentless demands of the Capitol.

However, as the hours progressed, it became clear that something had shifted between you and Coriolanus. The atmosphere grew heavy with tension, and the warmth that had once defined your relationship seemed to have suddenly faded away.

In a moment of frustration, Coriolanus addressed you with an unusual severity, his words slicing through the silence like shards of ice. “Y/N,” he began, “I can't focus on my tasks with you always around. Your presence is causing disruption and complicating my already challenging responsibilities.”

His words hit you like a heavy blow, causing a deep confusion. It was the first time he had spoken to you with such detachment and coldness, and the realisation that you had become a burden rather than a source of comfort weighed heavily on you.

Puzzled by this sudden change in his behavior, you furrowed your brow and sought clarity. “Hm?” you responded, your voice reflecting your growing uncertainty.

Coriolanus's gaze remained unyielding, his demeanor stern and distant. This was a stark contrast to the Coriolanus you had known, the one who had always been warm and caring.

In an attempt to understand the extent of this transformation, you pressed further. "I don't understand," you began, your voice trembling slightly, “It's my birthday, and I had hoped we could spend some time together.”

The weight of his disapproval and your own sense of isolation bore down on you, as if you stood on the edge of a vast divide that separated you from the Coriolanus you had once known.

After a prolonged silence, Coriolanus finally spoke, his words carrying a chilly detachment that cut deep. “I have responsibilities to fulfill. You must understand that my focus needs to be on my duties as a mentor. Your presence is truly annoying, and I can't afford being distracted.”

Another pause followed before he continued, his gaze unwavering. “You need to grasp that the world doesn't revolve around you, Y/N. You are not the most important person here. You celebrate your birthday every year, but I only have one chance to win a scholarship, and I must seize it.”

The weight of his words pressed upon you, and you couldn't help but asked next question. “Coryo,” you said, your voice wavering with confusion and a deep hurt, “Is being a mentor more important to you than me?”

He met your gaze with an unflinching intensity and replied without hesitation, “Yes.”

The blunt simplicity of his answer cut deeply, leaving you stunned and grappling with a hurricane of emotions. It was as if the ground beneath your feet had shifted, and you were standing on unfamiliar terrain. You had believed that your connection was unbreakable, that your presence in each other's lives was irreplaceable. Now, the stark reality was that his ambitions and duties had eclipsed your place in his heart.

The words echoed in your mind, and you struggled to make sense of what had just come to light. The pain welled up within you, but you didn't cry just yet. Instead, you were left feeling disoriented and wounded, your heart heavy with a sense of loss.

“You need to understand that my future, my education, and my family's reputation all ride on this scholarship. It's an opportunity I can't afford to miss. It doesn't mean I don't care about you, but right now, my focus has to be on the Games and my duties as a mentor,” Coriolanus explained, his tone softer now as he realized the harshness of his previous words, words that you certainly didn't deserve.

You bit your lip, looking down at your shoes and fidgeting with your hands. “I miss you, Coryo,” you admitted, your eyes still avoiding his. “I miss the old you. I can't remember the last time you asked how I was doing, or held my hand. I'm the one worrying about you all the time, and it feels like you're treating me like... like someone you can just hire,” you finally lifted your gaze to meet his, searching for any sign of remorse for the pain he had caused.

But he remained silent, his lips tightly pressed into a thin line.

“I just feel like Lucy Gray has become more important to you than I am,” you continued, your disbelief clear in your voice.

“It's not like that…” he sighed finally.

“And what is it like?”

“Lucy Gray is... she's special, of course she is. She's the only path leading me to victory.”

You shook your head in disbelief. “If she's just a pawn in your game, then why do you look at her like you're falling in love with her more and more every day?”

The question hung in the air, the weight of it pressing down on both of you. Coriolanus's gaze wavered for a moment, as if caught off guard by the directness of your words. It was a question he hadn't fully considered, and the emotional complexity of his feelings was now inescapable.

“I can't explain it, Y/N,” he finally admitted, his voice tinged with a hint of frustration. “Lucy Gray is... she's unlike anyone I've ever met. She's captivating in a way I can't fully grasp.”

Your heart felt like it had been ripped from your chest, and you staggered back, away from him, unable to bear the weight of his words.

“So what are you saying now?” you asked, your voice quivering, as though hoping he could provide some clarity.

Coriolanus hesitated, his frustration giving way to a deep conflict within him. He ran a trembling hand through his almost white hair, a sign of the inner chaos that now consumed him.

“I'm saying that things have changed,” he said, his voice trailing off. “I can't deny that Lucy Gray has become a significant part of my life, and it's... complicated.”

The distance between you and Coriolanus had grown into an overwhelming chasm. You took another step back, increasing the physical space between you, though you knew it couldn't stitch the emotional void that now divided you.

“What does that mean for us, Coryo?” you asked, your voice quivering and your heart heavy with sadness and uncertainty. “Are we... Are we over?”

Coriolanus didn't respond immediately, his gaze distant as he searched for an answer in the distance. When his eyes finally met yours again, they held the pain of a man caught between two worlds.

“I don't want to say that, Y/N,” he replied, his voice full of anguish. “But right now, I need to focus on the Games. We can't pretend that things are the same as they were.”

As Coriolanus's words fell heavily between you, the room seemed to close in, and the storm of emotions within you reached a turbulent peak. Your voice wavered, a lump forming in your throat, while tears welled up, blurring your vision. Your heart ached with an amalgamation of anger, betrayal, and a searing sense of loss.

“Is that all, Coryo?” you cried out, your voice breaking, a mixture of anguish and fury lacing your words. “After everything we've been through, everything we meant to each other, it comes down to this? You're just going to cast me aside because of some girl from the Districts? I thought we had something special, something that overstep all this madness.”

Coriolanus's face mirrored your emotions. He extended his hand towards you in an attempt to bridge the growing chasm, but as your trembling form took one more step back, his outstretched fingers hung in the air.

“This isn't what I wanted,” Coriolanus said, the weight of the situation heavy in his voice. “But I can't change it, Y/N. I can't let anything threaten my chances in the Games.”

Your voice, now tinged with bitterness and a mixture of anger and despair. “You know what, Snow? I hope your beloved Lucy Gray meets an end sooner than you now expect,” you spat out, your words dripping with frustration and a sense of betrayal.

With those final, cutting words, you turned away, your shoulders heaving with the weight of your own tears. As you walked away, leaving him alone under the monkey house building, the pain of the crack that had torn through your relationship gnawed at your soul, a wound that may never fully heal.

Your intentions were far from those words; you genuinely wanted the best for him. Yet, in that moment, you realised that the fear of losing might have been the one thing that truly wounded Coriolanus.

part three »

[pinchofhoney]

oh my,, thank you so much!! this notification was so unexpected that i’m absolutely surprised 🫶🏻🫶🏻 thank you!<33

FICS I ADORE (perpetually in progress)

So these are the ones I could think of off the top of my head and as I read more/reread others I’ll add ‘em! Please comment/tag recs!!

ONE PIECE:

Buggy

@plutoswritingplanet​, You Started It

@gingernut1314​, The Agreement

@wood-white-writer​, Didn’t mean to make your heart Blue

Sanji

@vulturelined​, nsfw drabble

@togenabi​, Apothecary Diaries

Shanks

@short-honey-badger​, Phantom Pain

@undiscovered-horizon​, A Sharp Tongue

MARVEL:

Bucky Barnes

@scrumptious-delusion​​​​, Treacherous

@softlybarnes​​​​​, 3B

Marc Spector

@softlybarnes​​​​, Request

Stephen Strange

@boop-le-snoot​​​, year after year

@eviesaurusrex​​, Personal Doctor 

THE LAST OF US:

Joel Miller

@from-the-clouds​, moonlight on the river, savior complex, texas sun

@luveline​, Request

@nexusnyx​, imagine being loved by me

@grippingbeskar​, duality

Tommy Miller

@themysticssdream​, Chasing a Rumor, Cherry Pie, Sweet Like Honey

SUCCESSION:

Kendall Roy

@from-the-clouds, Thinking of a Place, lost in the fire

@nyheartbreak​, when will you realize vienna waits for you? 

Roman Roy

@bowieandqueen11​, Request, Kiss Me

BRITPOP/GORILLAZ:

 Damon Albarn

@lundenloves​​​​, Platforms

MISCELLANEOUS:

Officer K (Blade Runner)

@hederasgarden​, Interlinked

Carlisle Cullen (Twilight)

@pinchofhoney​, the broken self