#Five Stone Mothers Ring

[whoslaurapalmer]

hmmmmm. ......unless it's falls on me by fuel. here's the thing, i confuse bush and fuel bc they are both bands with a four letter name. and i think they have a somewhat similar sound (and i also think i initially heard the songs all around the same time when i was pretty young) so my brain crosses the wires between their songs

[humansofnewyork]

“When I was a kid I’d hide between the bedpost and the wall and read books about King Arthur. I wanted to be a knight. I wanted to be anything other than my father. We lived under his rule; it was horror. My mother was loving, and strong in many ways. But she wouldn’t leave him. I used to watch her wipe her own blood off the walls. When I was thirteen I ran away for good. I didn’t tell her a thing; I just disappeared. And I know she was hurt by that. I slept in the park with a whole crew of punks and addicts. People in the neighborhood would give me little jobs. They trusted me, and I never stole from them. Because I had honor. I’d rob a leather coat from Macy’s in a minute, but that’s Macy’s. I’d never take a woman’s pocketbook. I’d never break into a deli. No matter how far I fell, my honor never failed me. Music never failed me. And a good book never failed me. One day it was pouring down rain, and I ducked into a cubby hole. There was a copy of The Diary of Anne Frank; just laying there. I was stoned out of my face. And I knew nothing about this little girl. But it’s pouring down rain; there was nothing else to do. So I read the whole thing. She was beautiful. All this horror, but she was surviving. And that gave me strength. By the time I was twenty-five I had my own room, with a hot plate, and a pair of reeboks. I was playing music with some cool cats. I was proud. It’s like: I’m making it. When I finally got clean, the first thing I did was knock on my mother’s door. Hadn’t seen her for twenty years, but she gave me the biggest hug. She told me that every Sunday since I’d left, she’d lit a candle and prayed for my soul. That night she cooked some chicken, which I killed. Then she gave me what was left in some Tupperware. That was smart, because I had to bring back the Tupperware. And I never stopped coming back. I’m 66 now. I’m clean, I live comfortably, I’m financially OK. And I still go to see her every Sunday. She’s 94. She’s half-blind. She can’t hear. But I’ll bring her cake, and we’ll talk. She likes to take my hand, so she can feel my rings. And while we’re talking, I can tell: she’s in heaven. I was able to give her that. I gave her peace.”

[reallyromealone]

Title: oh hey a mate(s)

Chapter: prologue

Fandom: obey me

Pairing: demon brother's x reader

Warnings: male reader, omegaverse, soulmate, neglectful/abusive family, sexual repression, reader doesn't eat because Beelzebub is a dink, fluff, anxiety

Notes: I wrote this for me mostly

🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️

(Name) Hummed to himself as he carried two buckets of water from the well, kicking a stone that was infront of him as he looked up at the clear summer sky as the wind blew the wild flowers along the path.

He was so exhausted, having woken at five am to start the day and prepare breakfast for his family, the buckets of water were to help his sister get ready for some event, apparently the demon princes were leaving their palace to find a mate of some sort, his sister was obsessed with them... He didn't really know much about them as he stayed in the village and his sister and parents tended to go into town whenever they could.

He didn't know if he wanted his sister to get chosen, on one hand he wouldn't have to deal with the beta woman and her... Well her but also he didn't want to be the focus of his parents, the two resentful of his gender combination as if he had any say in it "male Omega? Not natural" his mother would sneer as if it was some freak science expression, it's clearly natural if he's here.

Going through the back door, he slipped into the house shoes he was given and went up to his sister's room.

"So many alphas! They will have to choose me!" She swooned as she wore her best clothes for the princes, (name) silent as he helped her dress.

"Our soulmate marks with match and it will be wonderful!" She gushed and yelped when the dress was too tight, turning with a cold glare "watch it!" She screeched and slapped him hard across the face "damage this dress and I'll end you!"

He was so thankful when they were leaving, his sister getting into the carriage first as their father helped her in, the Alpha looking fondly at his daughter, turning to give a cold look to (name).

He will never understand their strife.

"Under no circumstances are you to leave this property, am I clear?" His mother hissed and (name) sighed, nodding "of course mother" he said evenly as the prudish beta scowled and turned away, going to the carriage where (father's name) helped her in, not even giving his son another glance before getting in himself and leaving.

A sigh of relief escaped his lips as he turned back to the house and the sound of silence echoed through the halls of this place he grew up in "finally... I'm taking a bath"

Despite being treated like dirt he still had a decent room in the back area and a bath, using his savings to get nesting supplies and the occasional nice thing for himself, taking a job at the local bakery until he can leave this place.

Leave this place and never look back.

Oh a dream.

(Name) Sunk into the bubbly water as he stared at his soulmate mark, a ring with a web in it, spikes at the top bottom and sides of the ring. He wondered who he was soulmates with... Would they love him?

Well let's just enjoy the silence while one can.

Alphas, betas and omegas lined up excitedly as the brothers looked over for their soulmate, each one presenting their soulmate mark but got shot down immediately by the demons.

(Sisters name) Looked excited as Asmodeus stepped towards her with a flirty grin, the young beta woman showing both her soulmate mark and her chest "am I who you're looking for?" She asked with a grin and the brunette looked at her with a smile "not even in the slightest" he whispered sweetly before a scent hit his nose.

"Is there another Omega you aren't showing us?" He asked with an earie tone, the scent was nothing like the omegas they seen before them no no... This was their omegas scent.

He knew it.

They were close, close enough for them.

"Where are they?"

The brothers entered the small country home, the sound of humming echoed in the furthest corner of the home and the alphas began their hunt.

(Name) Was dressed in a soft puffy tunic and casual pants as he made himself a sandwich, no one to stop the Omega from having an excellent lunch as he hummed softly, completely unaware that someone was watching him from the door... Specifically the soulmate mark on his arm.

Setting the sandwich down on a plate he went to go get some juice he squeezed that morning only to turn and see a red head in a fancy military outfit eating it, a sweet smile on his face and silence fell in the room before (name) spoke "who are you and why are you eating my fucking sandwich" (name) seethed out as the Alpha smiled "it's a good sandwich"

"Beelzebub, you don't take from our omega! You know better!" A voice barked out and (name) looked to see a tall black haired man with red eyes, horns on his head and "you're... Wait that means... Oh." (Name) Seemed to short circuit as he processed the fact that the princes his sister was obsessed with were in his kitchen for some god forsaken reason "why... May I ask are you here? Is it for my sister?"

"Who?" The sleepy prince asked and (name) seemed more distressed as pharamones escaped his scent glands "my sister! You know me but a beta and a woman! Kitchens aren't for princes...!" He seemed genuinely distressed and stressed out as he couldn't make sense of why there were there "shh~ it's alright... We smelt you on her, your family was keeping you away... I wonder why" a pretty man said getting close to (name) and pumping pharamones to calm him but (name) was to concerned on why they were here to begin with "you-- you called me your omega, what are you talking about?!"

"The soulmate mark" the black haired man stepped forward the pretty boy prince lifted his arm "see~? You're our mate!"

(Name) Tried to make sense as he was led out of the kitchen holding a glass of orange juice as his sister stood seething along with his parents.

Great.

Just what he needed after this bombshell.

"We will help you collect your things ~ don't worry you're always welcome to visit them!" The brief introduction stepping out, (name) learned the flirty one was named Asmodeus and the sa switch thief was Beelzebub and the black haired one was named Lucifer, the other brothers quieter but the blond one... Satan, he was analyzing the family closely and frankly, Satan could smell bs a mile away.

(Namely could feel the tension as he went to his room, Belphegor and Mammon following happily as the white haired demon looked at his mates room, much less nicer than the rest of the house and very small though the bed looked comfy to say the least "Bel, don't nap there" he said to his brother knowing if he did they would have to drag him out of that bed. (Name) Thought over on what he would need to bring, packing his important stuff and treasured items before going to his clothes "you don't gotta bring that... Unless there's something pretty in there" Mammon teased and (name) looked scandalized at his words only for the demon to laugh.

(Name) Didn't have many belongings so the packing was quick as Mammon held the bags, giving (name) a tight lipped smile when he tried to take them "(name), don't make the princes hold your things!" His mother scolded him and (name) went rigid and went to take the bags anxiously but Asmodeus gently took one of his hands instead "ah, but what alphas would we be if you not help OUR omegas things?" (Name) Tried not to make eye contact with his family as his sister seethed, he knew she wasn't going to make a scene here; not with so many people.

Not infront of the men she obsessed over.

(Name) Was ushered to the carriages where Lucifer helped him in, he could hear his sister argue with their parents as he was seated between Mammon and Lucifer, their pharamones making him a bit dizzy as Beelzebub and Leviathan sat infront of him.

(Name) Didn't know what to say as the demons spoke amongst themselves and Mammon kept an arm around (name)s shoulders, the smell of his expensive cologne and pharamones were tempting but (name) tried to not react "I'm quite surprised" Beelzebub commented as he snacked on some candies he stored in the carriage "what do you mean?"(Name) Asked curiously, voice soft and careful as the reality of everything set in "you haven't went into preheat, it's weird" he said simply and (name) seemed uncomfortable before speaking "o-oh, I'm on really strong suppressants..." He explained awkwardly and the others seemed to understand a bit "when was your last heat?" Lucifer asked in a serious tone and (name) bit his lip "uh... Three years ago?"

Oh he did not like the the silence that fell in the carriage "Asmo and Satan are gonna be piiiised" mammon said with a laugh and Lucifer sighed "we are going to have to take you off those... You're only supposed to be on those for a few months and then off for a few months" Lucifer said seriously and (name) nodded, worried about well... Mating with them.

Oh god, he's barely spoken to someone outside his family let alone sat with the concept of mating!

God he didn't even -- no one's explained that to him other than keep your legs closed and being shamed deeply for being an Omega!

Oh god it was really settling in now.

There goes his day dreams of living in the woods.

Fuck.

The ride was silent for the rest of the trip save for the occasional crunch from Beelzebub, reminding (name) that he hadn't eaten yet as the red haired man infront of him ate away happily but (name) didn't say anything about his stomach turning into knots as he remembered what his mother taught him, the betas words like venom in his brain.

'an Omega lives to serve, your needs don't matter over your alphas, never ask for something-- only accept if offered'

So he ignored the knots in his stomach, ignoring the fact he was starving and hadn't eaten since yesterday afternoon due to the rush of preparing his sister for something that he ended up getting.

Oh god she seemed pissed, like he had never seen that much anger from one person holy shit, god be did not want to have to deal with that. He's probably going to see her at the wedding, fuck there was going to be a wedding! He's going to be marrying seven princes! Fucking hell did that mean he was a royal!?

"We're here!" Mammon said as Lucifer was out fast to help (name) out, the Omega snapping from his meltdown to see the gloved hand and gently took it, helped out and kept close "this is your home now!" Asmodeus said charmingly as he walked beside him "I'm sure we will get along VERY well"

[the-fiction-witch]

You are not a Queen. You are The Queen. My Queen.

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Aegon Targaryen Couple - Aegon X Reader Reader - Alysanne Targaryen (Daughter of Rhaenyra, wife of Aegon) Rating - Sweet AF Word Count - 2437

The carriage bumped and bustled through the king's landing streets, the crack of the whip of the horses echoing in the mad rush. 

Alicent sat across the carriage in her impressive green dress, with golden chains and symbols of the faith of the seven. The crown she has always worn as queen nettled in her brown hair with her veil trailing down her back. She sighs and hardens herself for what must be done. 

Aegon sits dressed in his finery even if he shivered and he slightly cried trying to think of any way he could escape this fate. "Do you love me?" He asked his mother his voice plaid it like a joke but she didn't know the strength it took for him to utter those four words, and the deep tethers within him that those words and her answer would hold. 

"You imbecile," she shook her head, 

Her answer was enough of an answer for him to understand, but he felt compelled to speak once more, "Where is Alysanne?"

For a moment there was silence, and it spoke more than her words ever could, but after a time she speaks, "I send word for her but she could not be fetched. We couldn't wait."

He chuckled, "She is my wife." He glared, "We couldn't wait five minutes for her?" 

"every moment we wait risks the wrath of dragon stone."

"Yet you had time to change your dress?" he glared, 

"She would remain where she is safe, with the children." 

"So if Rhynera comes to burn the red keep we will all be in the dragon pit, except my wife who is in the red keep." 

"That is not what I intended-"

"Maybe not but its a helpful circumstance," 

"We should not speak of this," 

Aegon tried to protest but they arrived at the dragon pit, before anyone had much time to think Aegon was forced from the carriage and taken inside no matter his arguments.

The High Septom prepared the oils as the smallfolk were forced through the streets and ushered into the dragon pit until it was full, A small stage was set up with Alicent, Otto, Cristen, Helena and Aemond all waiting, preparing for this moment. 

Otto steps out to address the crowd, "King's Landing! Today is the saddest of days! Our beloved king, Viserys the peaceful... is dead!"

Muttering of shock comes from the crowd, 

"But it is also the most joyous of days!" he continues, "For as his spirit left us, he whispered his final wish that his firstborn son Aegon should succeed him"

more muttering but soon applause echos through the dragon pit, 

Members of the city watch rush the dragon pit pushing smallfolk as they do, they make a path to the stage half to keep smallfolk out, and half to keep aegon in. Horns ring out in royal tones as the armoured men raise their swords. 

Aegon does not wish to do this but he is forced out, so he takes slow and gradual steps a tear slipping from his eye as he begins the walk, the swords dropping behind him one by one, Each step makes him want to run, makes him want to fight his way out but with each one he is cementing his fate. 

His family's fate. 

His people's fate. 

His city's fate. 

His realm's fate.

He glances back and sees the swords are preventing his way, he really has no way back now. 

He holds 

"It is your good, great fortune to be here, to witness this. A new day for our city. A new day for our realm. a new king to lead us." 

He looks up and meets eyes with his mother a rage boiled inside him, that all this was her doing. 

When he climbed the steps she came and held his cheeks kissing his forehead, leading him by the hand to the Steptom of the faith of the seven. 

He looks to Otto who two gives him no choice he simply nods to him,

So Aegon kneels, 

silence rings out, 

"May the warrior give him courage, may the smith lend strength to his sword and shield, may the father defend him in his need, may the crone lift her shining lantern and shin his way to wisdom." the Septom says and with each anoints his head with oil, 

The crown is then taken from its pillow. The crown of Aegon the conqueror, sharp spikes of Valyrian steel with gems and jewels of finery. 

"The crown of the conqueror, past down through generations." Sir Criston takes the crown and places it on Aegons head even if the crown doesn't fit him right, "Let the seven bear witness, Aegon Targaryen is the true heir to the iron throne." 

For the first time in what feels like hours, Aegon lets out a breath, feeling the weight of the crown on his head, he gets to his feet and looks to everyone in attendance seeing how each bows to him,

"All hail his grace! Aegon second of his name, king of the Andals the Roynar and the First Men. Lord of the seven kingdoms and protector of the realm!" 

The bells toll out as cheers erupt for him, 

Aegon looks out to see the faces of all those who cheer, all those who look at him with joy, none of them know the death and destruction he brings. But even so, he can't help but feel a pride, and a swell of his ego as he takes Blackfyre from his belt and thrusts it into the air. For a moment he is swept up in his own family's pageantry and feels a joy to be king. 

But it doesn't last, as a rumble comes from below and suddenly dust and stone erupt up from the floor of the pit, people scream and try to run but there is no way to get away as the floor crumbles under their feet the red queen comes though the floor the dragon crushing smallfolk and killing hundreds in her wake otto tries to demand the doors to be opened but people are already dying, as Rhaenys sits on top of her dragon as the dust clears.

Alicent jumps in front of Aegon putting herself between the dragon and him,

The Red Queen screeched at everyone before turning and flying out and away into the sky. 

Aegon remains in the dragon pit, the pageantry of the moment long faded, the true death toll of his day hitting him, the weight of the sword in his hand and the crown on his head causing him to ache. He had such conflict in his heart, as he truly thought it all though. 

He never wanted this... and yet it was done. 

He never thought he was the heir... yet now the crown rests on his head.

His coronation... left hundreds dead. 

This moment... had surely begun a war that would tear apart his family, his realm, his house and all that he held dear. 

And in all of it, he stands alone, or so he thinks. 

Alysanne walks the up the stairs he walked up, her eyes looking only at him. Her gown is a body of green velvet, with silver threat lacing the bodice, black leather sleeves tight to her skin all the way to her wrists, a large skirt of green velvet with black flames embodied on the bottom, a long cape from her shoulders of a sheer black fabric cut like dragon wings. Her hands behind her back as she reaches the stage, she bows to him dipping her knees and lowering her head before her eyes meet his once more. 

His wife, in this moment, she is the light in this darkness. but there is so much sadness in him as he looks at her starlight eyes. 

"I am sorry Alysanne," He told her, 

"I hardly believed it to be true," she began, "Once word reached me." 

He felt unable to speak,

"Oh Aegon..." she said, "what have you let your mother do to you?"

Aegon looks at her with a mixture of guilt and shame, his throat tightens with emotion as he takes in her words. "I didn't have a choice,"

"I know." she nodded, "You are the king," She said almost not believing her own words,

He looks away, his mind filled with sorrow and anger, he is king, but he isn't happy. "This... already ways heavily on me... I cannot carry it alone." 

"If you are a king... I suppose that makes me a queen," 

He feels the weight lift a little, to know that she is beside him in this, "I am not a King. I am the king. You are not a queen. You are The queen. My Queen." he gives her an affectionate smile,

"so it would seem," A smile escapes her, but soon fails, "what- What is to happen to our children?" Her voice was full of fear,

Aegon's heart sinks as she asks, he knows his children are in danger, he feels already like he has failed them and his wife, he knows no matter what he can't protect them from this. "I do not know..."

"Forgive me, I should not sour your victory with my concerns."

"You should, concerns are now my most important matters." He told her, "I am sorry Alysanne, truly, I wanted to share this moment with you more than anyone. I am so sorry you were left behind,"

"... well, it's over now. it doesn't matter."

"It does. you are my queen and the fact you where not beside me for this moment... it breaks my heart."

"I admit... I am upset. that your mother had called this, not just for the politics and the show of the realm but... she wore her finest dress, her gold and her jewels, brought your family here, coronated you in front of thousands, gave you a crown, a sword, and the title of king... and I. Was left at the red keep with our children. Like a nursemaid." she explained, "I wish I could have been here is all..." 

He felt his blood boil that she felt this way, he took her hand and squeezed it, "I wish you could have been here, I wanted this to be for us. I wanted to take the crown with you by my side to take your own. I wanted our children to be here to witness the crown that may one day be theirs. and my mother robbed us of that... I am sorry, truly sorry. and I know I can never repay the injustice done to you." he explained, "You are my queen... and... you do not even have a crown." 

"I do." she said, as she revealed her other hand, "She gave me this when they arrived back to the red keep." she said and in her hand sat a small tiara of gold and green. No larger than a hair clip, and for a moment he remembers the crown his mother had worn today a large headband of gold and emeralds His own wife. His queen. Was tossed a crown, Without even being given a coronation. "I... I hardly wish to wear it at all... seems... foolish," 

Aegon stares at the tiny tiara and feels an intense surge of anger at the treatment his wife has received. It is a reminder of her insignificance in his mother's eyes, and it hurts him deeply. But he doesn't want her to be sad, he wants her to be proud of her new station. He looks at her, her face filled with a mixture of anger and sadness, and he doesn't want her to feel that way. He wants to make her happy and to make her feel wanted and accepted. "Wear it." He says, firm but gentle. His voice is a command, but also an appeal. He wants her to wear this crown, to let the world know that she is his wife and his Queen and that he is proud of her. He wants everyone to know that she is the Queen, no matter what his mother says or does. 

"There's no point..."

"Here," He takes her by the hand and tugs her with him to stand in front of the banners, he takes the small tiara from her and smiles, he gives it a clean on his shirt to make sure no fingerprints are on it before he does is most epic and dramatic voice for her, "May the warrior give her courage, may the smith lend strength to her sword and shield, may the father defend her in her need, may the crone lift her shining lantern and shin her way to wisdom. May the mother be an ever-sweet light in her life, may the maiden keep her safe, and may the stranger's visits be few," He explained, "The crown of ... uhh... the most beautiful of queens," he makes up as this crown had no name, 

she chuckles at him and he gently but sweetly presses the tiara into her hair, crowning her as his queen, his hands run down her hair and he kisses her lips softly, 

"Let the seven bear witness, Alysanne Targaryen queen of the seven kingdoms." he proclaimed, "All hail her grace! Alysanne Targaryen, queen of the Andals the Roynar and the First Men. lady of the seven kingdoms, protector of the realm, beloved bride and mother. My queen. My sweet queen," he cooed, 

"Thank you Aegon," she smiled, 

"You're welcome, and I promise you. You shall have a crown more worthy of your beauty and title." He smiled, 

"I think we have more pressing matters than a crown Aegon," she said,

"True," He nodded as his heart sank, "... you said once, not long after our children were born, that perhaps it would be best to cut or losses, to fly to Dragonstone with the children to meet with your mother, to cleave to your mother and beg for her mercy." 

she shook her head, "... it's too late for that Aegon, no matter what side we are on. Blood will be spilt, and the only way to keep our children alive is to be on a side of our own." 

He nodded and briefly smiled, "You took to talking queen fast," He chuckled, 

She smiled, "Aegon darling, I have been talking and acting like a queen for as long as I can remember. Our family ensured that. Come. The children wish to see their new king, and we have much to do." she explained taking his arm, he nodded and squeezed her hand happily walking with her even if the two were beyond scared of what now was to be done. 

[hidden-poet]

Commander Snow: 10

Commander Snow

Summary; Under the advice of Dr Gaul Coriolanus returns back to district 12 where without blinding light of lucy-grey he could see you.

Warnings; dead dove to do not eat, stalking, unrequited love, breeding kink, violence, possessive!Snow, unco/dubco, sexual content, she/her pronouns, explicit, violence, death, sexual assault, child birth, Capitol bullies.

Editor: @hotline-to-hell

chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter three

Chapter four

Chapter five

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

chapter 9

Chapter 10

The bed you were asleep on felt like a cloud under you. 

The bedding was fresh, and smelt slightly of lavender scented washing powder. It held a  crispness that could only be given by drying in the sun. 

Pillows surrounded you, giving you a sense of security while heavy blankets nearly pinned you to the mattress from their weight. 

You slept easy despite your predicament. Only the morning sun, as it streamed through the airy curtains, woke you. Still, you don’t move. Too comfortable, and too tired to face the day. 

Coriolanus was not next to you. The large bed was only occupied by yourself. You wondered how long he had been missing, and how much longer he would stay away. 

You were in an entirely new world, only he was familiar. And even he had changed. He was President of Panem, not Commander of District 12. His hair was long, and his clothes were fashionable. He even held himself taller and talked slower. 

Still, he was what you knew. Your lifeline in an alien world. 

Would you change too? You supposed you had. 

A District girl, now wife of the President. Soon the weight of the diamond on your hand would become unrecognizable. You would get used to the strange people here. Tigris and Grandma’am would become family and not Capitol enemies. 

So quickly, your life was snatched from under you. Everything you have ever known has been replaced. Even the air felt different upon your skin. The people around you ate differently, talked differently, dressed differently. Would anything be left of you? Would you be able to keep anything of your home inside of you?

Your heart hurts to think of your mother and brother. Were you to trust Coriolanus when he said he had released them? He was likely to have had them 

released and then shot outside of the gates. How could you ensure their safety? Would he let you call them? What would it cost you?

The quiet turning of the door knob broke your train of thought. 

You wondered if it was a maid or Coriolanus but you couldn’t bring yourself to turn and look. 

You didn’t want to face either one so you closed your eyes hoping that they would leave you. 

Coriolanus did not. He gently shook your shoulder, and you rolled over from your fake sleep. 

“Good morning,” he pushes back your hair, tucking it behind your ear, “Did you sleep okay?”

You brush his hand away. Your ring scratches the skin of his hand as you do. 

“I have a doctor on standby. Are you in any pain?” 

You sit up and surprisingly find very little pain. More tightness from a muscle that had never been used before. You were quite wet already, and he was slow. Allowing you time to adjust. 

“I feel fine,” you respond, “What time is it?” 

“It’s early. I’m sorry. The sign-in is at noon, so you need to start getting dressed. Just like yesterday, some women are going to come in and help you.” 

“The same women?” You hoped not. They were so Capitol. You felt repulsed at the thought of sharing a room with them again. 

“I don’t know. Was there a problem with them yesterday?” His Commander's face was put on. A displeased stone expression that made you feel like a scolded child. 

“No.” You deny. Your eyes go to your ring that sprays out a pale rainbow from the sunlight. 

He pulls your attention back to him with a hold on your chin. 

“You’re my wife. First Lady of Panem.” 

Him calling you wife made your heart curdle. 

“You hold the power over them. If there’s an issue you need to tell me.”

“There was no issue,” you insist. 

He doesn’t push you on it.

“They will be here soon. Come outside for breakfast.”

He gives your arm a tap before rising from the bed to retrieve a warm dressing gown from the closet. 

It was soft around your body and brought a surprising amount of warmth. 

The journey to the dining room table was simple. Just past a long hallway, it opened into the living room, where to the right an elevated platform formed the dining area. 

The Snow women were not dressed as casually as you were. Fine dresses and jewels were worn for breakfast. 

You looked to Coriolanus to see he was also dressed fashionably and felt embarrassed that he had brought you out in last night's worn make-up and a dressing gown. 

The women seemed unbothered to see you. 

“Good morning, Y/N.” Tigris greeted you. 

“Good morning.” You offer back. 

Coriolanus holds out a chair for you amongst the 12 available. 

“Did you have a good time last night?” she asks. 

You looked at her and saw no vindictiveness in her eyes. It was a genuine question, offered to make you feel at ease. 

It was, in fact, the worst night of your life. But you were a stranger at her table, you would not repay her kindness with scorn. 

“Yes,” you say instead, “Did you?” 

Tigris nods her head, as she pours out coffee from a pot into the small white tea cups. 

“Bet you never saw anything like that in the Districts.” Grandma’am quipped. 

You weren’t sure if she intended for her comment to be a way of reminding you of your place, or as an encouragement to how great the Capitol could be. 

“No, I haven’t.” You agree. 

There was food displayed on the table, across a long white cover. Coriolanus picked food from and dropped it onto the gold plate in front of you. 

You had no appetite. It was all so ghastly rich. There was no need for this amount of excess. 

Coriolanus did not share your off-put. He ate his plate, while you examined the strange contents of yours. 

Grandma’am doted on her grandson. Telling stories of his younger years. He always had leadership skills, she said. His presidential future was never in any doubt. 

“Even when-” Grandma’am stopped herself, suddenly looking at and pushing her food around on the plate. 

You were eager to hear what she had to say. Even when he was sent to be a Peacekeeper? Even when he got involved with Lucy Gray? Was there something else that Coriolanus has kept hidden?

“If only your father could see you now,” she redirects, “Oh he would be so proud.” 

“We’re so proud,” Tigris states. Trying to defuse the somber mood. 

Coriolanus smiles at Tigris under her praise. 

“And you?” he asks, turning to you. 

You nod your head, unsure on what he wanted to hear. 

“Congratulations, President Snow.”  You offer. 

“It sounds right, doesn’t it?” Grandma’am squeals. 

You wait until the rest of the company has finished their breakfast between idle chatter. 

Coriolanus was on his second cup of coffee. His arm slung over the back of your chair, as he sits casually, talking to Tigris. 

He leans down to your ear, the second Tigris is occupied with Grandma’am.

“Can you eat something, please? The stylists will be here soon,” he whispers. 

 His casual demeanor returns as Tigris’s attention does. 

You follow his request, taking a bite of some sort of breakfast biscuit. It was fresh, and soft, even stone-cold. You could taste the butter in it. Real butter, not the imitation type found in the Districts. 

“I am going to miss you,” Tigris sighed. 

“We’re not staying here?” You turn to Coriolanus who had just taken another sip of his drink. 

Your stomach fills with knots thinking about a new place. You didn’t want to move. 

He swallows quickly, trying to answer you before anyone else. 

“No. We’re going to the presidential estate, but we’ll come back and visit. And you're both always welcomed at the Presidential Palace.” 

You jump as a ringing sound breaks through the air, looking around to try and see the small bell hidden in the room. 

Coriolanus’s hand comes from the back of your chair to the back of your neck. “It’s okay,” he soothes. 

He reaches for a panel of buttons built into the table and holds one in. 

“Yes?” He answers the call. 

“Mr. President, the PR team is here,” a voice spoke back. 

“Send them up.” His hand returns from you, back to the chair. 

“You don’t have long. Try to have another bite,” he commands. 

You finish the breakfast biscuit by the time the two Peacekeepers escort a whole team of people up to the penthouse. It sat heavy in your stomach. 

You see the same two women in the group. They stand side by side in ridiculous outfits. The one who had burnt you with a curling iron had a spiky, purple hat that reached tall into the sky. 

Two racks of clothing, and four big black boxes on wheels, were carted behind them. 

Coriolanus walks to the living room to greet them. They all congratulate him on his win, which he brushes off quickly to talk to the head stylist about the plan for today. They mutter between themselves, and the stylist shows Coriolanus a large book, pointing to the pictures. Coriolanus points down the hall, explaining the layout of the apartment. 

The book shuts with a heavy snap, and the stylist turns to his workers directing them to their places. 

The team split up behind Coriolanus, as he walked back over to you. 

“You’ll go back to the bedroom. I’ll use one of the spares. If there are any problems, you come and find me.” He tells you. 

You nod in response, noting that three other women follow the two women from yesterday down the hall. 

Coriolanus says goodbye to Grandma’am and Tigris, before leading you back to the bedroom where he lets you go without a word. As he closes the door behind you, the women in the room snap their attention to you. 

They all begin talking to you. Not one voice is heard but hands are felt all around you as they pull you into the bathroom. 

They bicker amongst themselves on what needs to be done first. You had many faults that needed to be fixed before the signing. Your skin wasn’t tight or dewy enough. You needed a facial, and eyelash lift. Your chipped nails were disgusting. Your hair was dull and lifeless. 

You feel vulnerable as hands dig harshly into your clothing, pulling it off your body. As you push hands away, more hands take their place. They call you difficult as you beg them to allow you to do it yourself. 

The shower is turned on too hot, you could feel the heat of it standing five feet away. 

Stripped, you notice the mess of semen still between your legs. Others notice it too and begin to giggle to themselves. Coriolanus had run a wet towel over you so you could sleep comfortably, but it wasn’t enough. 

The shower was boiling as you were pushed under it. Your skin instantly turned red. The women themselves didn’t want to get wet, standing outside of the shower screen, and pulling you by your hair to bring you closer. 

One lathers a strong-smelling liquid into your hair without much care, while another scrubs a hard brush against your skin to rid the old skin. 

It hurt as it raked across your body without soap. The woman's rings got caught in your hair as she scrubbed your head, it yanked as she pulled back. 

With a cry of pain, you are pushed back under the stream of hot water. 

You think about running to find Coriolanus, but they are here now. Another team would not be sent. He would only reprimand them, and then you would be left alone with their wrath. 

You sob instead. You should be at home. It was Wednesday. You were pretty sure. You should be at work, making idle chatter with your co-workers. 

“Wash it out!” The woman commands, “We don’t have much time.” 

Trying to appease her, you do a quick rinse under the water. 

“All of it,” she sighs. 

‘'The water’s too hot,’’ you cry. You felt like a cornered animal.

She looks at her co-workers annoyed. “Turn the water down,” she commands. 

The water is turned ice-cold but you make no further complaint. 

Another round of the strong-smelling liquid is harshly rubbed into your hair, and a nice-smelling lotion is rubbed into your skin. 

The cold water makes you shiver as you stand under it, trying to wash everything off you. 

The water is turned off leaving you standing shivering in the shower. 

“Come on” the women demanded, “hurry”. 

You go to her, and she throws a towel at you. It helps to dry the cold water off you, bringing back a little warmth. 

They watch you as you dry yourself making you feel self conscious. The attempt to cover yourself with the towel is ripped from you, and thrown to the floor. You are once again being pushed instead of asked to do something. 

You were laid flat on a table they had brought. Bare under their eye. Nothing was given so you could cover yourself. 

Five women stand above you and begin work. 

You close your eyes trying to dissociate from everything. A mask is put on your face, leaving space around your eyebrows so they can be waxed. Another oil is put on your hair and skin. 

You could hear the buzzing of the laser and feel its zap as it took the hair off your body. She scaled the length of you with the laser, paying extra attention to your most private parts. 

Only a reprimand was spoken to you as tears ran down your face. You were wasting the product with your tears. 

For a long time, you laid still against the table as they worked. Your body became sore and stiff before they told you to get up and into the bedroom.

It was there you were given back your dressing gown and placed in front of a vanity. 

The women talk amongst themselves as they work. Not one of them asks you anything. You tune them out, thinking about home. 

It felt overstimulating to have so many people working on you at once. Someone cut your hair, while the other women took one hand or one leg. They massage more oil into your skin, before shaping and painting your nails. Your ring is given a shine, and they speak about how beautiful it was. 

You feel their jealousy as they work. Your fingers were twisted into unnatural positions as they were filed. Your hair was pulled ruthlessly as it was cut. One woman stepped on your toes as she rose from the floor for some polish. 

In your head, you were at home, baking for your market stall. Your mother would keep you company in the kitchen, reading a letter from your brother. He had found someone. A nice girl, who treats him well. He wasn’t lonely anymore and had plenty to eat. Edmund was alive, and you would see him when he finished work. He would be joyed at the news that his best friend found a girl, and after dinner that night you would sit with him and draft a letter explaining your new relationship. 

It was a surprise when they all stopped to address the President. 

You turn to see Coriolanus standing in the doorway with a large mug in his hands. He had been taken from his clothes this morning and undressed into a white singlet. He had no shoes on his feet, and his dress pants still had pins in them from the tailoring. 

“It’s time for a break,” he announced. His hair appeared to be cut back, and slightly curled more. His skin glowed with treatment. 

You had never been thankful to see him until that moment. A tear slipped from your eye and you quickly wiped it away.

“Sir, we still have lots to do,” one of the stylists said. 

“Leave the room,” he commanded. 

Tools are dropped as they follow his request.

The five women pass him through the door, and he kicks it closed as the last one leaves. 

You get up from the vanities chair with a headache from all the pulling. 

“I came to check on you. Are you okay?” he says. 

The tea in his hands was a welcomed surprise. The hot shower had dehydrated you, and your crying left your throat scratchy. You take it from him and take three large gulps. 

He takes your waist into his hands once they are free from the cup. 

“Yeah,” you lie. Your voice was quiet and broken from having not spoken for a long period of time. 

The tea was hot, burning your throat as you drank it, but it was good. You broke away from his hold, going to sit on the ottoman by the bed. He followed you as you sat. 

Certain parts of your head felt like they were burning from the harsh treatment, You reached up to soothe the sore spots. Coriolanus’s hands follow yours. You knock them away, wanting nothing more than not to be touched. 

He moves onto the bed behind you, sitting with either leg by your sides. His strong fingers reach into your hair and massage your scalp. It felt nice as his fingers dug into your head so you allowed him to do it. 

You lean back into him, the hot cup burning your lap. 

“Do you want to tell me something?” he gently asks. 

His fingers press into a very sore spot on your head, causing you to wince and pull forward out of his hold. 

He doesn’t let you sit up, pulling you back by your shoulders into him. His fingers go back to your hair once more, but he rakes his nails through your hair instead of pushing in. 

He rakes his nails in a continuous backward motion, soothingly as he talks. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you. That shouldn’t have hurt.” 

A gentle kiss is placed against your ear. 

“Are you alright? Do you want me to stay? I’ll stay.” He offers. 

You think about it. The women would surely be kinder with Coriolanus in the room. But you didn’t want to admit you needed him. Worse, you didn’t want to feel indebted to him. After all, it was because of him you were going through this.  

You get up from him once more, and he allows you to create distance as you go back to the vanity set. 

“Leave me alone, Coriolanus,” you demanded. 

You wipe the tears harshly away from your face, and he sits there watching you. 

A gentle knock is heard at the door. Coriolanus rises to answer it. 

“Come in,” he orders. 

The women single file in, past him. Only he stops the women who had been barking orders at everyone all day. 

You watch him in the mirror as he brings his hand down across her face.  

A gasp leaves your lips as you watch her fall to the ground from the force. 

“I entrusted her to you. If you make me regret it, I’ll make you regret it,” he warns, staring down at her with eyes that spoke of his anger. 

He steps over her and back to his room. 

“What did you say?” the woman in the purple hat hisses at you. 

“Nothing,” you admit, “I said nothing. I promise.” 

The woman who was hit gathers herself from the floor, coming over to you and pinching the skin on your arm between her long, fake nails. 

“Well say less.” she rasped. 

“It wasn’t my fault. He’s like that,” you contend, rubbing the skin she had pinched. 

“Maybe to District scum, but not to us.” 

“Your red cheek would suggest otherwise,” you sass. 

It earns you a harsh tug on your hair as it is yanked to one side.

“Just do as you are told and face forward,” she spat.

She spins you by your hair towards the mirror. No more tears fall from your eyes, but a satisfied smirk stretches across your lips. The moment had made you feel powerful. 

While their nail files dug into your skin, and your hair was gripped too tightly just to be cut, they no longer spoke. Coriolanus had scared them into silence. 

A few moments later he reappears with his own styling crew as they struggle to bring everything they need into the room. 

He sets up next to you, and under the watchful eye of Coriolanus, your stylists turn gentle. With your body done, they move to your hair and make-up. 

The large room is crowded with all the people and equipment. The head stylist tries to persuade Coriolanus back to his own room, but he would hear none of it. 

As your hair is curled and pinned into a loose bun, the iron used slipped slightly from her hands as she pinned. It burnt behind your ear, causing you to jump from the hot touch, but no sound escaped you. 

Coriolanus noticed anyway. 

“Be careful. Watch what you are doing”, he reprimanded.  

“Yes, President Snow” the woman apologizes. 

With a spray all over your hair, the woman steps back to admire her work. 

“Alright. We are fifteen minutes behind schedule. We need to get her in her dress”, the woman with the red cheek called out. 

Coriolanus was done. Only one stylist was there with him, shining his shoes. 

They lead you to the bathroom with a dress bag. 

As soon as the door was closed, one of the stylists who had remained quiet all morning began to speak. 

“Yes, President Snow,” she mocked. 

“Shut up,” the hair stylist barked. 

The dress was pulled from the bag without a wrinkle. 

It was a sweetheart, white satin, strapless gown. The bodice had pearls strung along it, and it curved up in the middle into a line of pearls. 

It was matched with a pair of white heels with pearl straps and a jacket of the same material that was only meant to go around your shoulders and not to be worn, you learned. 

The shoulders of the jacket clipped into the dress so it didn’t move.

“There,” the head woman snapped, “You’re done.” 

You quickly rushed from her presence, back out to the bedroom where Coriolanus stood alone. 

You turn back as you walk to him, expecting the woman to come from the bathroom. But they never do.

He takes you into his arms, gaining your attention from the door

“You look beautiful,” he comments. 

He did too, but you wouldn’t admit it. He wore black instead of white, but his shirt and pocket square matched the material of your dress. 

“Thank you,” you reply. 

A slight squeak of the bathroom door had you pulling back. You would hate for them to see you so cozy in his arms. But the door never opens. 

Coriolanus pulls you tight against him again, leaning down to whisper something to you. 

“Do you want me to have them killed?” He asks. 

“No,” you say, astonished that he could think of no other solution.

“It’s up to you,” he states, “Come on. We are late.” 

He leads you back to the living room where Tigris and Grandma’am stood waiting amongst the stylists packing up. 

“Give us time to settle in before you come to visit,” Coriolanus spoke to his family. He leans his tall frame down to kiss each of them. 

“Of course,” Tigris answered. After she had kissed him, she moved over to you. Wrapping her arms around your shoulder, and placing a kiss on the corner of your head. 

“We’ll see each other again soon,” she promises. 

You smile back at her before she is replaced with Grandma’am. The older woman's hug is shorter and less affectionate. 

With a final goodbye, you follow Coriolanus and a series of Peacekeepers to the elevator and down to the car park. 

A sleek black car was waiting. A driver held out the back door, and Coriolanus placed you in the car first. 

The Peacekeepers piled into a large truck. Only one sat in the front of your car with the driver.

The divider was raised so you couldn’t see them, but you could have sworn you had seen the Peacekeeper before. You wondered if Coriolanus had brought back men from District 12. 

The car ride passed through the city. You had never seen such buzz. Colors and colors flew past you. Buildings that reached the sky gleamed. Tall statues were littered across the drive. You counted seven, and a possible eighth that flew past too fast to see more than a gray figure. 

You wanted to put the window down for a better view as the tint from the window dulled some of the colors. But Coriolanus denied your request. The wind would undo the work done on your hair, and it was important that you arrived looking your best. He had promised to take you out again later with the windows down. 

When you arrived at the presidential estate, it was surrounded by supporters of Coriolanus holding banners and sticks with a picture of Coriolanus’s face attached. They waited outside of the tall gates guarded by peacekeepers. 

As the car passed them, screams and cheers deafened you. 

It got worse when you entered the gates, the screaming was matched with flashes of white light. 

Coriolanus was unbothered by it all. His focus is all on the approaching building in front of him. 

The building was grand, surrounded by meticulously kept gardens. Large Panem flags hung on flag poles on either side of the staircase that led to the entrance. A line of staff stands at the top of the staircase. All of them were dressed in expensive white material that formed around their bodies in a long coat, and pants. Gold detailing was added to the stitches and a gold pin fashioned into the Panem symbol was pinned across their chest to keep their jacket closed. 

Even the servants dressed nicer than the high society of District 12. They looked better fed too. 

The car stopped as close as it could to the stairs and Coriolanus turned to you, taking your hand in his. 

“Stay close to me. People are excited and that can cause them to act mindless.” 

The door is opened by a Peacekeeper and Coriolanus leads you along the slim path through the sea of people. 

People reach out to touch him, yelling out to gain his attention. But his mind stayed focused on the approaching building. A look of smug satisfaction and determination played across his features. You must have looked terrified as you followed him.

These people looked like animals. They frenzied around you with only a few Peacekeepers to keep them in check. 

You stay as close as you can to Coriolanus, taking the back of his shirt into your spare hand. 

The path ends as it comes to the bottom of the step. Coriolanus reaches his hand back to release you from his shirt, bringing you to stand by him as you climb the steps. 

One woman in an all-black ensemble stood out in front of the line of staff. She greeted Coriolanus as he reached her on the steps. 

“President Snow, an honor to serve you as your head of staff.”

She reached out her right hand but his right hand was latched around yours. He was hesitant to let it go.

She pauses when he doesn’t react but quickly switches out hands which Coriolanus accepts in a handshake. 

Upon realizing your importance to him, she turns to you in a curtsy. 

“And you, Mistress.” 

The crowd cheers once more for President Snow. White roses are thrown from the crowd, falling on the road and upon the bottom of the stairs. 

Peacekeepers push back against the crowd. Things were not to be thrown at the President. 

“A pleasure. Perhaps we should get inside before the crowd decides to see how close they can get.” Coriolanus suggests. 

The woman steps back, nodding her head quickly and too many times. 

“Of course. If you would follow me, I will take you to the signing.” 

The rest of the staff remain on the steps as you and Coriolanus follow the woman.

The loudness of the crowd was shut out from the big, heavy doors. It offered you two seconds of relief before taking in the vastness of the house. 

The floors were polished and matched the furniture.  A big lush thick carpet was laid out to add some warmth to the room. It was dark red and had cream accents that splayed out in intricate designs. The entryway must have been 50 feet in width and length but the red carpet covered nearly all of it. 

Both you and Coriolanus looked around in wonder. Only Coriolanus was better at hiding his amazement. He acted indifferent as the women explained the history of the house. But you could see his eyes linger on the expensive and well-decorated decor of the house. 

Staircases were everywhere, leading up and down in all different forms of design. The house was too big. It would be easy for a person to get lost but the woman led you without stumbling. 

You wonder about her. How long had she been here? Was it a choice to serve the house? 

She didn’t seem scared or upset. There were no marks upon her cream skin suggesting a lifetime of servitude. She wore make-up, and her thick, black hair was styled fashionably. But looks could be deceiving in the Capitol. 

They liked to hide behind their fine things and sharp appearances. 

She leads you into a large office. The original flag of Panem hung framed behind a large desk. The dirt and blood that had gathered on it during the war blotted the bright colors. 

Only five reporters were allowed into the room, amongst a few other important people. They all greeted Coriolanus with a firm handshake. Only one reporter was female, and she towered over the men, assisted by her six-inch heels. She looks at your ring, and you notice an absence of one on hers. 

She was too smart to get trapped by the Capitol men. 

Coriolanus thanked them for being here with his dazzling smile while you stood behind him mute, and useless. 

The women who brought you in interrupted the polite conversation between the group. 

“President Snow, it is custom to sit in the chair while signing,” she directed. 

“Yes,” Coriolanus obliged, leading you behind the large oak desk. 

You tug your hand from him as he sits. They wanted him, not you. 

A dark green plush couch with colorful cushions called out to you. You needed to sit as your legs felt like jelly. 

“President Snow, did you want the picture with or without your First Lady?” The woman reporter asked as she readied her camera. 

“With.” Coriolanus beckoned you closer but your legs would not cooperate. 

You stood until the head of staff pushed you forward. 

“Alright, dear, you stand behind your husband and don’t forget to smile. Big smile!” She commands. 

You are thankful that her hands moved you into position. The referral to Coriolanus as your husband froze you. She told you once more to smile which activated your lips into a thin smile.

“Okay, Mr. President when you’re ready,” one of the male reporters called. 

The cameras flash blinding you as Coriolanus signs his name on the parchment. 

His signature is a series of neat loops finished by a long line that curled underneath his name. 

It was official. Coriolanus Snow would now rule over Panem. With the hopes that it was over, you go to move back out of the camera frames but it only caught the attention of the journalists. 

“Mrs. Snow, how about a kiss for the President?” One of the reporters called out. The comment frenzied the rest who shouted out encouragements. 

Coriolanus turns out to you in his chair, permitting you to follow the command. 

So you do. Bending down to his height and placing a kiss on his lips. He steadies you with a hand on the side of your face so that the kiss deepens. 

The cameras liked that. You pull away, but Coriolanus' hand keeps you in place. 

His thumb brushes against the lipstick that had smudged getting rid of it before wiping his hand over his mouth. 

A make-up artist comes over to him, helping him to rid the lipstick off his face and reapplying power from a compact. 

“Okay, can we get a shot of just the President staring down the lens with the flag in the background?” The woman once more directs. 

You move quickly out of the way as the journalists kneel on the floor for the shot, and point their cameras up. 

You find comfort on the couch and watch as Coriolanus is directed for the magazine shots. 

When he is not directed to stare into a camera his eyes are on you, making sure that you are still in the room. 

A deep regret sets on your posed photos. You should have said no. Coriolanus would be too cautious to correct you in front of what constituted the entirety of Panem. You could have gotten away with it. Now your family was sure to see the photos of you happily smiling behind him. Kissing him, with a diamond ring on your finger. 

What would Edmund's family think? Your own family would think of you as a traitor. What would the family who lost everything due to you think? Edmund was keeping them afloat. How would they get by now? Would your brother take care of them as Edmund took care of his family? Would they accept the help of a traitor's brother?

Coriolanus stands from the desk in front of the reporters. 

“As you can imagine, yesterday was a long day. If you are satisfied with the photos I would like to settle in with my new wife.” 

“Of course, Mr. President,” was the resounding response. 

He comes to collect you on the couch as the head of staff briefs the people in the room on what is to happen now. 

“No one is to leave this room. Peacekeepers will come and escort you out. You and your equipment will be searched before you are released back to your firm. The President thanks you for your time and service to your country.” 

Coriolanus brings your arm to loop through his as you follow the woman back out into the vast space of the house. 

She takes you up a large, twin staircase back at the main entrance of the house, and along a corridor lined with a long carpet. At the very end came a double-door entrance that stretched from the very bottom, all the way to the top. 

This was the President's quarters. She unlocks the door with a key that was passed to Coriolanus, and swings open the doors so you can see the space. 

Another enormous space was filled with plush rugs and expensive furniture. Back home a house consisted of the bare necessities. In the Capitol, they had space for every activity and filled it with unnecessary furniture. 

A breakfast nook, a long dinner table, a sitting area, a living room, a walk-in coat closet, two full bathrooms, a tall wine fridge, and a set-up bar were all contained within the floor. A staircase that led up suggested that there was more to the living space. 

The woman asks if she can do anymore, but Coriolanus assures her there is nothing to be done but rest now. 

She shows Coriolanus a button he could push to call for a servant before bidding him goodbye. 

He was quick to shut the door behind her as you wandered into the apartment. 

“What do you think?” He asks. 

“People live like this?” You run a hand over a soft blanket draped over the couch. 

“I never have,” he admits. 

 From a war-ruined boy, to a Peacekeeper, to Commander of District 12, Coriolanus lived far from the luxury of the Capitol. 

He got nights of Capitol living when he came to visit from District 12 but his home had always been rat-infested slums. 

“It’ll feel more like home when you settle in, and make it your own.”

“It’ll never feel like home,” you remark snidely. 

Coriolanus picks up a small decorative statue and examines it. 

“Well not your home back in District 12, but your home in the Capitol.” 

He places the statue back down and holds out his hand for you to take. 

“Shall we see upstairs?” 

Upstairs was as impressive as down. Six spare bedrooms each with their own bathrooms and ready for guests, a sizable private study that conjoined to a lavish sleeping arrangement. 

You open the doors to your closet to find that it already had been filled with clothing. A pair of comfortable-looking pants and a singlet call out to you, and you ask Coriolanus if you could change. 

He gives you permission, telling you that he was going to look around the estate but he would be back soon. 

The bathroom had heated tiles which helped to keep you warm as you tried to figure out the shower. There was a pad with buttons that had too many commands to work.

You finally figure it out with pure luck and a heavy stream of water shoots out from the shower head. 

You shower off the make-up and hair spray. Some glitter that had been dusted on your skin had to be scrubbed off which left you red, and pruny from the time it took. 

Another battle to turn off the water, before you could reach for a white fluffy towel off the rack. It was warm too from the heated rack.

With Coriolanus gone, you explored the room. Everything was set up as if you already lived here. 

You find a book about the history of Panem in the bookcase and flick through it. It talked about the Dark Days. How District people were dangerous and out to ruin Capitol life. 

Large black and white pictures taken during the war were displayed in large form across the page. The Capitol during the war looked like District 12 now. 

The next page showed a photo of rebels being lined up to be shot. The page after that had a photo of a man. A general during the war. The name shocked you. 

General Crassus Snow. He looked a little like Coriolanus. Same blonde hair and blue eyes, but without the name, you wouldn’t have known.

A hero they called him. It turned out Coriolanus wasn’t lying to you when he said his father was killed in 12. You wondered how that must have felt for him, to go back there and rule over the place that left him fatherless. 

A little blurb read that Crassus Snow was known to have an excellent head for strategy and nerves of steel. With a commanding presence that rose him quickly through the military ranks before he was cowardly killed in an ambush. 

Coriolanus had followed in his father’s footsteps. The page could have been Coriolanus' autobiography. 

Your fingers trace the photo of the man standing tall in his uniform. If he was alive, you doubt he would have let Coriolanus get involved with you. But he wasn’t, and you were here, trapped in the Capitol, while he was buried somewhere in District 12. 

You continue with the book, scoffing as they skew history to fit their narrative. War was never one-sided. 

You hear him as he enters the study. The door was heavy and loud. 

Expecting him to appear, you continue flipping through the pages of the book. 

But time passes with no appearance.

You finish the book and go to find out what he is doing. 

Taking the side door, you could see his back as it faced a large painting on the far wall. You knew from school that the picture was of the past President Ravenstill.

He gazes at the portrait with his hands clasped behind his back. 

“Coriolanus?” You call. It breaks his concentration, and he unhooks himself from his rigid posture to extend his hand out to you. But he never faces away from the painting. 

You rush to accept his hand, looking up at the painting with him. There was nothing special about it. An oil painting that depicted a hateful man in a powerful position. 

But something about it captivates Coriolanus. 

“Are you alright?” you ask. His broody eyes normally meant bad things for you.

“You see this?” He bends his forehead to your level and points to a faint scar on the top corner of his head. 

“During the war, I went looking for scraps around the Presidential palace. I found a great big bucket full of half-eaten bones with meat still on them just sitting there over the fence, so I reached my hand in to try and get one. I was found by a Peacekeeper who informed me that the President said they were for his dogs and left me with a scar from the butt of his rifle.” 

He looks away from you and back to the painting. You were grateful for it. There was a darkness in his eyes that scared you. 

“Now I am the man in the palace,” he mutters. 

“I am sorry that happened to you.” 

He smiles at your words. Pity was something he wanted from no one but you. 

“You can do a lot of good, Coriolanus,” you temper with a squeeze to his hand. 

He nods his head in agreement, “I will. The Capitol will flourish under me.”

“You could do good in the Districts too. You saw the disadvantages there.”

His grip around your hand tightened, and his jaw locked in place. The painting was no longer of any interest. You now bore his intense stare. 

“I saw a bunch of animals clawing at each other to get ahead. You should be thankful that I saved you.”

“Saved me?” You questioned. 

He had not saved you from a burning building but taken you from your bed at night. 

“It wouldn’t have been long before the animals tore into you.”

The hold on your hand loosens and he takes a step back from you. 

“I’ll ring down for lunch.” He disappears from the room, leaving you in front of the painting. That night it was replaced with one of Coriolanus. The painting of him was still wet but hung proudly in the room. 

The next morning after a luxurious breakfast you went straight back to bed and stayed there until Coriolanus returned home. 

You had no idea if he locked the door on his way out, you never checked. There was nothing out there for you. No family or friends to shield you in their arms. No familiar faces, or sense of community. 

Tigris and Grandma’am visited on the weekend, wanting to be shown around. But you only knew the bed, and Coriolanus spent too many hours at the official office downstairs to know the little details of the apartment. The head of staff was called again to show the group around the property. It took nearly half an hour to explore the place. 

Grandma’am was too old to do that much walking but she wouldn’t slow down. She had dreamt about this day, longer than Coriolanus had. She held on to him as he assisted her in walking, and you held her handbag. 

They stayed for coffee and cake which delighted Coriolanus. You spoke very little, even as Tigris tried to coax a conversation out of you. The crushing weight of defeat was hindering your ability to be social. 

When they left, you got an earful from Coriolanus, who was disappointed in your behavior. All was forgiven, however, when the lights turned off and you were alone in bed with him.

The staff thought it was odd when you insisted that you would do the cleaning and cooking for yourself and Coriolanus. He took great pride in it. Feeling as if it was a testimony of your love. But in truth, your days were so much longer without it.

Sometimes there were visitors from the Academy or acquaintances from high society. Grandma’am and Tigris came over consistently but most of the time you were left completely alone. 

For a brief period, while the facilities for you to cook and clean were installed, you lived back in the Snow Penthouse. 

You enjoyed other company besides Coriolanus. One night after he was finished with you, you asked him if home could be here instead of the Presidential Palace. 

He gave a laundry list of reasons as to why that wouldn’t be possible. The Presidential Palace was safer. It was the place where the President and the First Lady were supposed to live. Besides he didn’t want Tigris, and Grandma’am around while he adjusted to married life. You knew it all boiled down to the fact he simply didn’t want to. 

—------------------

The night you return to the Presidential Palace, he comes to bed with a stack of papers.

“Look,” he leans closer to you, holding out a bit of paper that you couldn’t read under the sporadic flashes of light from the Tv. 

“My first official act as President. Schools will now provide breakfast and lunch free of charge for every school student.”

“I thought children in the Capitol never had to worry about food”. 

“Some do,” he responds, “There are poorer and richer classes in the Capitol too. Not to the extent of the Districts, but we have our own troubles in the Capitol.” 

The Capitol people, no matter how poor, were not treated like animals, and terrorized by a militant group. They were still Capitol, and thus worthy of respect. 

“And university is free for those in the top 10% of their cohort. I’ll make the announcement first thing tomorrow morning.”

“That’s wonderful” you praise, although you cared little for the new change. 

He felt as if the bill would rewind the clock. Damn the Hunger Games, and the Plinth Prize. If he could bury the mistakes of his past, they never happened. 

—----------------

Coriolanus grew desperate for a baby after his first month of presidency. He wished he had gotten you pregnant back in District 12 so he could have a baby halfway through his first term. But he didn’t dwell on the past when he could focus on the future. 

He tried desperately every night to put a baby in you, but nothing stuck.

He grew worried that time in the Districts had made you barren. After a very uncomfortable examination by a doctor who assured him that you were able to bear children, but simply have not. 

The thought of children made you feel sick. You had no idea how you would manage it on top of everything. You did not want his children, but how could you stop him? He was the one who decided your future. 

Every morning he would wait outside of the bathroom door for you to do a test. You would bring a negative result back, and his face would sag. 

His frustration was rough in form. Since election night, fun was the only objective for Coriolanus. But as his want for a child grew, teasing and pleasing you were secondary to his need. Again and again, in the same night, he would manhandle you in positions he thought were best. They left him with a sore wife and no baby to show for it. 

A doctor had suggested that extreme stress can disrupt the ovulation cycle making it difficult to plan strategic timing of sex. This had annoyed Coriolanus greatly. You went on only a few official obligations in which you stayed by Coriolanus. You were fed, clothed, and rested. There was no extreme stress in your life that would hinder you from his baby. 

You verbally agreed with his rant but laughed in private at his delusional hissy fit. 

Every night when he was finished, he would sleep thinking tomorrow he would wake with good news. 

One day he did. He was getting ready to go down to the office, waiting for you to present him with the test. 

You expect the same as before, but as you expect the test, you notice an instant difference. 

Scrambling for the box, you check the instructions. A cold shot through you as you looked back to see the indication of pregnancy. 

In hope you take another one. 

Coriolanus knocks on the door, telling you he has to leave soon. 

You don’t care, you stare at the test waiting for a negative result. 

It appeared the same as the other.

Coriolanus calls out again. On auto-pilot, you unlock the door and show him the test. He knew from your expression that it was positive but he looks anyway. 

He kisses you deeply, but you can’t move against him. You were going to be a mother. Die nursing Coriolanus’s babies. 

“A baby,” he says joyously. He brings his hand to your stomach and smiles, “A Snow.” 

He ushers you back into bed, and calls for a maid to come tend to you while he is at work. All day you only move to throw up once. 

The maid annoys you all day by asking you to do things. You just wanted to cry in bed without an audience. 

As soon as the news was announced, floods of gifts came piling into the apartment. Designer clothes, a gold crib, flowers, and chocolate were sent for you. You threw them all out. 

Every day you spend organizing and putting away presents only for more to come. 

If you had thought your life was miserable before pregnancy, your life was unbearable while you were pregnant. Coriolanus was anxious about losing the baby. 

The whole nine months at breakfast each morning a doctor checked for any complications. It made it difficult to eat which frustrated you as you woke every morning with great hunger. Only to throw it up again by mid-morning. 

You were young and healthy so the pregnancy was low risk. Due to the rations in the Districts, your iron was low, but with your meals now being made by qualified chefs and nutritionists it quickly came back up to an acceptable level. 

Coriolanus insisted that everything was a risk. Cooking over a hot stove, or bending to clean.  You came to work with him like you did at the Compound. It was then you realized that he was more worried about you self-sabotaging the pregnancy than he was about the chemicals in cleaning products. 

You grew big and uncomfortable. With the hormones raging in your body you would cry randomly during the day. One time when Tigris came to drop off the baby clothes she had made you, Coriolanus insisted she stayed for tea in the garden. 

It was a beautiful day, and you had company other than Coriolanus. It was one of your better days. But upon seeing a dead baby bird at the edge of the garden, you began to cry uncontrollably. 

You resisted Coriolanus' hold as he shouted for the bird to be taken away. The scene greatly shocked Tigres who quickly left when Coriolanus returned you to your room. 

In addition to the mood swings, your baby kicked all day long giving you little rest. It took a toll on your appearance, leaving you looking half-dead.

Everywhere you turned someone was handing you a pillow and a blanket or offering you food. You felt like the main attraction at a circus. The only good thing about the pregnancy was that no meant no.

Coriolanus was far more respectful of your boundaries. All you had to put up with was his interactions with his unborn child. He liked to speak to it in your stomach and feel it kick. On daily walks for the baby's health, he would hold the bump as he accompanied you around the grounds. He was excited to be a father but you were terrified of being a mother in an entirely different world than your own. 

Both you and Coriolanus attended parenting classes to help with the transition. Even raising babies was different in the Capitol. Mothers were not supposed to leave the house for 40 days after the birth. District women went back to work before the week was out. 

The teachers talked about safe sleeping practices in a cot, District babies slept in a basket cushioned with rags. 

Special food was designed for every stage of toddler life here. Babies back home ate what was available. 

The classes made you grateful that your child was Capitol. At least you could give them a happy, comfortable life.

Coriolanus would ensure the best for his child that you were sure of. 

—--------

Nine months passed quickly. One early morning you woke up in a great deal of pain. Coriolanus was still asleep next to you. You knew the baby was ready to come, but you were not ready for the baby. 

You try to delay the baby. The midwife said you had another week. 

A hot bath stops the pain for a little while, but the sound of running water wakes Coriolanus. You’re in the bath for thirty minutes before he rises from bed to join you.

He doesn’t knock as he enters. There was a time when you would have tried to cover up, but those days were long gone.

Coriolanus kneels by the bathtub and places a hand on your rounded stomach. 

“Kicking, is he?” Coriolanus asks. 

“Yeah. Something like that,” you state. 

“He’s just excited to be here next week.” 

As if it was a call to action, your stomach begins to contract painfully tight. You wince, trying hard to keep a sound from coming out. 

“Are you alright?” He asks with concern. 

“Yes. Can you help me out of the tub?” 

The plug is pulled by twisting a round knob to your left, and the water drains quickly. 

He helps you out of the tub gently, wrapping you in a towel and helping you walk to your wardrobe. 

All of your pregnancy clothes were loose dresses that fell down to your ankles. You picked a light blue one but as the fabric fell around your body, your stomach gave a harsh twist. It felt as if your stomach muscles were being pulled from your stomach. 

You feel Coriolanus place a hand on your back. 

“I’ll call for the doctor,” he says. 

The doctor and his nurses had been moved into the presidential palace for the pregnancy. Coriolanus wanted to be sure that if anything went wrong, a team of experts was at hand. 

“No,” you moan, “He’s just moving that’s all.” 

The next contraction had you yelling and kneeling over in pain. 

“Is he coming?” His voice carried an excitement that could only be found in a person not about to give birth. 

“To the bed,” he demands, “Come on.” 

The team is quickly called up, bringing with them scary-looking machines. Your doctor had previously explained what they did and how he would deliver the baby. But none of it mattered now. You were terrified. 

Coriolanus only left your side to get dressed. The labor was nearly fourteen hours, during which Coriolanus held your hand and waited for the contractions to get closer together. 

He tried his best to make you comfortable. Hard pillows were brought in for you so you could sit up, and he held a water bottle close, ready for you. 

As you enter the second stage of labor, the pain intensifies as your body gets ready for the push. Your fear spikes, knowing that a baby would soon be placed in your care. 

“No, no,” you mutter. This wasn’t supposed to be like this, You were supposed to be married to the love of your life, and have your mother to coach you through this. 

“You’re alright, darling. He is almost here,” Coriolanus dabbed an ice-cold rag over your forehead as he spoke. 

“No,” you state more forcibly, “I want my mother.”

“Mrs. Snow, you need to start pushing,” the doctor instructs. Your body pushes automatically, causing a painful groan to resound around the room. 

Coriolanus gives you words of encouragement but they buzz in your ear. The sound of your mother's name coming from your lips was the only thing you heard.  

“You don’t need her. Just keep going.” He soothes. 

You scream at the pain. The room felt as if it was on fire around you, but you knew it was cold outside. The world began to blur, the beeping of the machines and talk of the medical team lapped. 

You look towards the doorway as your body begins to push again. You swear you see your mother peeking in. 

“Mum!” you scream, “Mum, please, don’t leave me.”

“No, No.” Coriolanus consoles. 

“No. Coriolanus, I want my mother. Where’s my brother?” You ask in a state of panic that brings tears to your eyes. 

“Mrs. Snow, push.” The doctor bids. 

“No!” you scream back, “Not without my mum.”

“Mrs. Snow, this baby is coming. You don’t have time,” the doctor says. 

“Push,” Coriolanus tells you. 

“Please, Coriolanus, please,” you beg. All you wanted was to see her. If he didn’t want you to speak that would be fine. You just needed to see your mother as you delivered your first child.

“What have you done?” You sob, looking at his worried face. 

“I haven’t done anything,” he defends, “You need to start pushing.”

Pain ripples through your body and you push to ease it. 

Three big pushes that burn, and suddenly the pressure in your stomach is gone. 

A loud cry fills the room, in constellation with your heavy panting. 

The crying buddle is brought to you by the doctor, but you push his hands away. One peak at his light blonde hair had you feeling sick. He was supposed to have dark hair like Edmund’s. He was supposed to be Edmund’s child. 

Instead, the child was given to Coriolanus who accepted him into his arms. 

“Coriolanus, where is my mother?” You ask. 

“She’s not here. You know that,” he answers. 

Still, you scream for her to save you. 

“Commander Snow, please! Just let me see her,” you beg. 

He looks down at you puzzled, with the screaming child in his arms. 

Despite feeling as if you had been hit by a train, you attempt to rise which is discouraged by everyone in the room.

 Coriolanus steps forward to stop you, but won’t release his hands from his son. 

You feel the pressure from the nurses on your shoulder as they press you back into the mattress. 

“Sir, can I administer a sedative to calm her?” a nurse asks. 

Coriolanus nods at the nurse, and she inserts a needle into your IV drip. 

“Get off. No!” You try to tug against the IV connection, but your hands are pinned down. 

“Mum!” you shout, “Archie!” 

The sedative works fast. You soon find yourself unable to hold your head up. The fight kicked out from under you. 

You watch as Coriolanus holds tight to the small blanket. 

“Commander, please.” You mumble, but hear no response as you slip into a deep sleep.  

—-----------

When you wake it feels as if each limb has been torn from your body, and you have been hastily stitched together again. 

The room is blurred but your eyes are opened. You could feel their sting as you failed to blink. 

You had a son, you think, but where is he? Why can’t I hear him crying?

With newfound motivation you will yourself to get your bearings. 

Your muscles move at your control once more, and your eyes focus on the lamp on the table. 

As you regain control, you hear footsteps by the end of the bed. Your head rolls on the pillow to see Coriolanus as he stands over a bassinet, still for a second, before he reaches down and picks up your baby, wrapped tightly and swaddled. 

You wanted to call out and demand that he place your baby back down but you were still hazy from the drugs. You're too slow to gain back your voice. 

He sits in a nearby rocking chair with the baby tightly in his arms, beginning to rock gently as he gazes down at the small bundle. 

The baby fusses slightly but is soon soothed back to sleep. 

Seeing your baby in no harm, you try and sit up 

“Coriolanus,” you call. His eyes shoot up to watch you as you rise into a sitting position but go back to your baby as he speaks. 

“Take it easy. He’s okay,” he consoles. 

“Is he healthy?” You ask. 

Coriolanus smiles down at his son, as he rocks back and forth. 

“He’s perfect. I’ve named him, Crassus Alexander Snow, after my father.”

You hate that your son is named after the man in the book. You hate that Coriolanus has named him without your approval. Your son wasn’t a doll for him to play with. He had taken enough from you, now it felt as if he was after your son too. 

“You named him?” Your voice was hard with your displeasure. 

“I had to. The nurses needed a name. Don’t worry you can have the next one.”

The next one. Not even 24 hours after an excruciating labor, and he was talking about the next one. 

Looking around, you see that you only felt like you had just given birth. The machines, apart from your IV drip next to you, had been taken back. The bed was fresh under you, and you had been changed into comfortable pajamas.  

You lean back into the bed, silent. This was not how you pictured your first child. You wanted your mother and brother to see him.  

You picture seeing them again. Just one last time to say goodbye. 

The thought of it makes you break the silence you otherwise never would have broken. 

“Coriolanus, do you think I could write to my mother to let her know I had a child?” You ask quietly. 

He is quiet which worries you. Your mother would know when the Capitol news circulated through the District, but you were hoping to at least let her know you tried to tell her. 

“Yes, you should,” he finally spoke.

He gets up from the rocker and walks slowly towards your bed. 

“Here, do you want to hold him?” 

You open your arms for Coriolanus to place your son into. 

He fits perfectly and doesn’t wake.

You stare at him. He didn’t feel like your son. Crassus was a small baby, with light blonde hair. Not how you imagined him. 

Coriolanus lays on the bed next to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders so he could bring you close. 

“Thank you,” he says, “I know how scared you were. You called for your mother. Do you remember?”

You were hoping that he wouldn’t mention it. That it could just be something that happened and then forgotten.

“Did I?” you fawn. 

You're careful to keep your eyes on your son, and not to look anywhere that could gain Coriolanus's attention. 

He captures it anyway by bringing your chin up to his height. 

“You did so well, and I am so proud of you,” he praises. He places a quick kiss on your lips before drawing his head back. 

“I love you.” He states. His eyes look at you expecting. 

“I love you too, Coriolanus.”

You never know if the letter you write is sent home. No return was ever given. 

—--------------

A week later your baby boy lay between you and Coriolanus on the bed. He was sleeping after you had just fed him. It took a while for you to feel connected to him but now a mother's bond was established, and you could watch him sleep for hours. 

Coriolanus ran his finger down the side of his baby's face and down to his little belly, rubbing soothing circles to try and help him digest the milk. 

“He’s beautiful, isn’t he?” Coriolanus spoke to you but kept his gaze on his child. 

“Yes,” you agree. 

You wished your mother could see your baby. To hold him as is her right as a grandmother. You had wanted to ask Coriolanus, but you knew the answer. Still, you had to ask. Maybe he would be kinder to you after birthing his child. 

“Coriolanus, I was wondering if I might be able to take him back home to see my family?”

His eyes shot up at you. The answer was more than no, it was how dare you. 

“Don’t you ever ask me that again.” he seethes. 

You held little hope that he would agree so his denial hurt less. 

“Can we video call them?” you try to compromise.

“No,” his answer was hard and cold, “Put him in his bassinet and come back.” He commanded. 

Crassus’s bassinet was only at the end of your bed. Coriolanus wanted to keep him close. 

Your baby stirs as you gently pick him up but settles back into his mother's arms. He was so milk-drunk that the normal fight to set him into his bassinet was won with a gentle rock. 

You knew you were in trouble with Coriolanus. The only time you had wished that your baby fought sleep was so you could avoid Coriolanus’ wrath. 

He holds his tongue until you are back lying next to him. 

“I don’t want you speaking about your family ever again. I don’t want our son to know that you are District. Think about them if you must, but if you continue to speak about them, I will have them killed.” 

“They are my family,” you spat. 

“We are your family. Us. Your son and your husband.”

You get up from next to him, even though you know you shouldn’t. 

“Lay back down,” he demands. 

“I’ve done everything you have asked of me,” you snivel, “Gone to every event where they look at me like a trained animal. Cooked your meals, washed your clothes. Gave you a son, just like you wanted.” 

Your voice was wobbly and raised. The hormones that were still raging through your body from birth trapped you between uncontrollable sadness and an unquenchable fury. 

“Be quiet. You’ll wake Crassus,” Coriolanus scolded. 

“I don’t care!” You yell. 

Coriolanus looks to the bassinet at the end of the bed, expecting his son to wake, crying. 

All is silent. You lower your voice as you continue speaking. If you upset Crassus all conversation would stop. 

“Crassus doesn’t have to come. I can have a one-hour phone call a month without him. He doesn’t have to know, but I can’t live like this.” 

His eyes snapped to you as he lay in the bed. “Can’t live like this? I have given you a life so terrible that you can’t bear it?”

He rises from the bed, and you take a step back. You were in a bad condition after birth. There was no way you could defend yourself against him. 

“Nothing I do for you is ever good enough for you” he exclaims. His eyes squint at you but his voice is calm and collected, “You know how dangerous it was for me to help you in 12? A Commander, and a District girl. How that looked for me in my presidential run? But I didn’t care. From the day I met you, I have looked after you. And you want me to feel in debt to you, because why? You cook the food I give you? Wash the clothes I buy? Birthed a beautiful son that you never would have had without me.” 

“You didn’t ‘take care of me’, Coriolanus. You took me. I never asked for any of it. I want to go home to my family.”

Coriolanus stood across from you, his face unmoving and hard. 

“You’re right. Family is important,” he suddenly says. His face relaxes, and body unwinded. 

He moves quickly to the end of the bed where Crassus lies. 

“Your brother had a child. A little girl, named after you,” he rocks the bassinet gently despite his threatening words. 

“You want to see her? I can bring her here,” he taunts. 

“No,” you whisper. 

“No? All this talk of family, and the answer is no?’’ 

He looks down at his sleeping baby, checking for any signs of distress. 

“I could bring them all here. They could work in the presidential estate. You’re the only one who doesn’t have to earn their keep”.

You imagine them dressed in the same white uniforms as the other servants. How much control Coriolanus would have over their lives daily. 

“That’s not what I am asking,” you state. 

“You’re asking to have your family around you, and I couldn’t agree more. Unless you don’t consider them family?” 

“Well?” he pushes after a moment of silence. 

“No.”

“Who do you consider family then?”

“You and Crasuss,” you gave the answer he wanted to hear. 

“That’s right!” He cooed, running a hand over Crassus’s head, “Just us. All you need is us.”

He straightens once more, giving his full attention back to you. 

“I am not asking you to be grateful, but I will not allow you to be thankless,” he shoves his hands in his pockets in a casual manner. 

“You should sleep as he sleeps,” he suggests. He wanted the fight to be over, and the newborn bliss to continue. 

“Lay back down, and go to sleep. No more talk of Districts.”

He leaves you in the room with your son, retreating from any further fighting. 

You wondered if it was true. Did Archie have a baby? 

Some part of you hoped it was true, and that she would fill the void of you in their lives. Just as Crassus filled the void for you. 

—-----------

With the success of Crasuss, Coriolanus was eager to have another one. You were still getting used to motherhood. You weren’t sure if you could deal with this one, let alone another one. 

Coriolanus stayed home with you for the 40 days that you were supposed to be on bed rest. He was up late with work, and then during the night with Crasuss. 

He tried to give you as much rest as he could. But Crassus needed you for feedings, and sometimes he would only settle if he was in your arms. 

Coriolanus was unversed in assessing others' needs. He would bounce Crassus when he needed to be held, change his diaper when he needed to be fed, and give him toys that were too old for him. 

He couldn’t decipher his cries like you could, leaving him frustrated. 

You knew he tried, which was more than you expected of him. 

You wake from the sound of your son crying from what feels like a two second nap. Coriolanus tried to prolong it for you by trying to soothe the baby himself. 

“He needs to be burped,” you tell Coriolanus, “Put him up on your shoulder and pat his back.”

He had only just fed so you knew it was just tummy pain. 

Coriolanus does as you say. Crassus settles as he is put upright but no burp comes. 

“It’s not working,” Coriolanus panics. Every little thing the doctor was to be called to check it out. 

“Keep going,” you encourage. 

Coriolanus sighs in relief when Crassus lets out a little burp and returns to being a happy baby. 

“You’re good at this,” he commented, “ A natural.” 

He always knew you would be, but to see it in action filled him with great joy and admiration. 

You huff in response, closing your eyes to go back to sleep. 

Coriolanus had to go back to his usual duties, leaving you with the full responsibilities of being a mother. 

It was overwhelming to have no one else to talk to but a baby. You spent your days in the apartment which drove you crazy. 

You eye the door. Coriolanus never told you to stay in the apartment. It was just an assumption you made. You knew you would never get outside of the gates, but you would settle for the gardens. 

With your baby in your arms, you cautiously twist the knob. 

There is no booby trap as you step out. No alarm rings. So you continue your journey. 

You vaguely remember the way from when you were out of the apartment with Coriolanus. 

A maid was polishing the wood of the staircase you needed to go down. You curse but try to act casual as you approach her. 

“Mrs. Snow,” the maid seemed surprised to see you, “Can I do something for you?” 

“No. I am just going to the gardens,” you justify. 

You walk quickly away from her. You hear her calling your name but you don’t stop. 

The house is large and echos as you make your way across it. The entrance out into the gardens was almost hidden. 

You wanted to run, but you were careful not to shake your baby too much. 

The big door comes into view. A sense of excitement and apprehension overcame you. You had never been outside of the Presidential quarters without Coriolanus. Now you were stepping outside. It felt as if you were gaining some independence back. 

When you open the door, you are confronted with a Peacekeeper, who stands aside out of your way. 

You thank him as you move past him, but he follows wordlessly as you cross the field. 

The maid had called the Peacekeeper on you, who called Coriolanus on you, and Coriolanus had told the Peacekeeper to keep an eye on what you were doing.

You find a spot under a tree in the lowest field, the Peacekeeper stands ten feet away to give you and your baby some privacy. 

You play with your baby in the short grass. He liked the feeling of it.

Some maids come, bringing a picnic blanket, and a glass of lemonade. 

You thank them although you wanted none of their assistance. 

Crassus has some tummy time listening to the birds. You lay back on the grass and watch the sun as it goes down. It was comforting to know that your mother and brother would be looking at the same sun. As far away as they were, at least something still connected you. 

You tell Crassus about them and he babbles back as if he was trying to talk. You tell him about Edmund in the prime of his life. You don’t discuss Edmund’s death or his father's involvement. 

You begin to explain District 12 to him just as the sun disappears behind the trees, when you hear the Peacekeeper stand to attention in greeting. You shut up immediately.

“It’s time to come inside” Coriolanus’s voice is heard. 

He picks his son up and places him on his shoulder after a quick kiss. 

You get up with the blanket and cup as you follow him back to the house. 

Coriolanus takes the items from you and gives them to the Peacekeeper in passing. 

“Look at this,” Coriolanus pulls out a small doll from his pocket,  “A senator's little girl gave it to me. She was so cute. We should try for a girl next.” 

You still had four weeks before the doctor gave you the go-ahead to engage in intercourse. But you knew Coriolanus would push the limits on that time frame. 

“I want to wait at least a year before another one,” you tell him. 

It already was so difficult, you wouldn’t survive having to care for another one. 

“No,” Coriolanus protested, “I would like a girl before the years out.”

You knew how obsessive Coriolanus could be when he had a thought trapped in his head. You also knew that nothing you said was going to change his mind. 

You wait until Crassus is asleep, and your shift with Coriolanus starts. 

He was waiting for you like he usually is. After Crassus was asleep, it was his turn to have his wife. 

He had opened a bottle of wine and was flicking through the tv channels. It surprised him when you dropped to your knees in front of him. 

Your hands reach for his trousers, and he eagerly helps you to take them off. During pregnancy he didn’t want to force you to do anything, thinking that it might harm the baby. After he was born, there was a recovery period that he had to wait through. It left Coriolanus pent up and hungry for your touch. 

Your lips were warm on him and worked so well. 

After all of your experience, you knew what Coriolanus liked. You swatted his hands off you as he tried to take control. He relents, bringing his hands to his thighs in a tight grip. 

You feel it grow in your mouth with your attention. It twitches under your tongue and you knew it as a sign he was close.

Just as he is reaching his high, you drag your lips back and off. 

He gasps as you do, throwing his head back onto the couch. 

“What are you doing?” He groans. He was irritated, which was not your desired effect. 

“Crassus turns one before another baby,” you demand. 

His hands curl into the couch as he counters, “Eight months.” 

You move to get up but his hands stop you, “Okay, okay, a year. Just finish.” He begs. 

You do finish him off, with the smug satisfaction that Coriolanus Snow is just a man. 

The day Crassus turns one, Coriolanus keeps you to your bargain. 

Coriolanus was determined to have a girl. Clothes and bows had already been brought. 

While Capitol technology allowed you to artificially change the sex of your baby, Coriolanus was more interested in conceiving the natural way. 

He researched old myths to increase his chances, and he tried all of them. 

He made you drink lemon juice before sex. He initiated sex on even days of the week. You were on a diet of fish, eggs, and vegetables. And you had to leave your legs raised for a couple of minutes after he was finished. 

You were slow to conceive like you were with Crassus. But one of the old wives' tales worked, for nearly nine months after Crassus turned one, you fell pregnant with a baby girl. 

You named her Aurora meaning dawn. A silent homage to your family back home, and the sun that connects you. 

—-------------------- 

Having children strangely settled you. You had five children in total within years of each other.  Your fifth child was your last. After you had lost too much blood during the birth of your next boy, Coriolanus put off plans to have a sixth. It scared him, seeing you so pale, laying half dead in a bed like his mother. The goal of children was to bring you closer, not to use you up. 

They gave your life purpose and little room to think about anything else but their needs. As they grew, you got more freedom to explore the city. Always under an army of guards. Coriolanus wanted them to have a full life, even if it meant granting you  access to be far from him. 

His children were not to miss out on anything the Capitol had to offer. Their names were on the top of the list for any attractions, child star concerts, and plays. The world was at their fingertips, and you got to experience Capitol life through them. 

He went when he could but his work was demanding. In his absence, a team of Peacekeepers escorted you and your kids around the Capitol. 

Despite his many faults, Coriolanus was a doting father. His children were first, sometimes before you. Where once his hold was tight around you all night, now you wake to find that one of your children had escaped their bed and taken your place. 

You always worried about his temper. He hasn’t hit you in years. You figure it was partly because you gave him little reason to, and partly because if you weren’t physically holding a child in your arms, you had one in your belly. 

But as your children grew would they be in the same danger as you if they acted out?

They all had the signature blonde hair of a Snow, but only the firstborn had Coriolanus’s blue eyes. Your other two boys and girls had your eyes. Something to tell you that they weren’t all Coriolanus. 

Date night normally consisted of an official event. They were far and few between as Coriolanus preferred you to be home with the babies. He disliked nannies but conceded to their usefulness. 

Tonight was a charity event to raise money for a new public swimming pool. Vapid and silly. At this stage, only Crassus and Aurona were born to be left crying as you tried to leave for the event. 

They were not used to being parted from you, and you were not used to being parted from them. 

“It’s okay,” you hush, “Mummy will be back soon, and she will check on you.”

Aurora was too young to know what your words meant. Her only cue that something was wrong was Crassus as he screamed. 

“No, Mummy, no!” His face was bright red from tears. You worried that he was short on breath from his screaming. 

He knew when you dressed up, you were leaving. He was four but a smart little thing.  As soon as the stylist crew arrived, his meltdown began. 

You held him as they did your hair and make-up, trying to soothe him. Coriolanus was still at work. All he needed to do was change his suit when he arrived home. 

He arrived home to chaos he could not settle. 

He stood behind you, watching as your son tried to tug off your elbow-length glove. 

“It’s alright, it’s okay. Mum will be back,” you promise. 

Aurora throws her head back, throwing her body off balance in your hold. 

The two nannies try to gain the kids' attention by holding out new toys, and calling out to them. 

“Once you leave they will settle,” one of the nannies promised. 

With teary eyes, you kiss both of your crying children, Coriolanus does the same, and Aurora is handed over. 

Crassus’s little hands claw onto your dress, he has to be picked up and yanked away by his nanny. 

You try not to let your tears fall as you walk to the car. It would ruin your make-up, and once you started to cry, you weren’t sure you would be able to stop. 

“They will be fine,” Coriolanus promises on the way to the event. 

“Why do I have to go tonight?” It was a silly thing that would survive without you. 

“Because you’re my wife. That’s why.”

Despite many years in the Capitol, events like this reminded you that you don’t belong. 

People would only talk to you in an attempt to gain an audience with Coriolanus. 

You would remain civil but not overly friendly. 

They all thought you were shy and timid as you were rarely seen, and always by Coriolanus’s side. 

Your relationship with Coriolanus had changed over the years but his overprotectiveness never dissolved.

His hand was always on you in some form. Where he went, you went. Who he talked to, you talked to. You were only an extension of him in public. At least at home, you were your own person to your kids. 

Tonight it seemed to all children. Only one person spoke to you apart from Coriolanus. 

It was a little girl, who passed you a flower in thanks. The public pool didn’t seem so silly in your eyes anymore. You bent down to talk to her, thanking her for the flower. You asked her about school and her siblings. You told her about your own children who were too young to attend a party like her. 

You were disappointed when her nanny came to collect her. She scolds the child for running away and bothering the President. 

Tucking the flower behind your ear, you blow the girl a kiss as she is carted off.

The rest of the night was dull as you acted as Coriolanus’s shadow. 

Coriolanus had just finished a speech on stage, you were walking back down the hallway to the party with him. You passed a few people running the events. They tried to talk to him, but he seemed in a rush. 

He turns off the direction of the party, and tugs you down an empty hallway. 

You ask him what he is doing as he checks the doors until he finds one that is opened and ushers you inside. It was a supply closest. Small and smelling slightly damp. 

He pushes you up against the wall, knocking over a broom and a bucket. 

“You’re such a good mother. Such a good little wife. I don’t tell you that enough,” he says. 

“Okay,” you respond, pushing back on his shoulders. 

“I love you so much.” He kisses you so hard, that your head is knocked painfully back into the cement wall. 

It reminded you of the harsh and needy kisses he used to give you as a Commander.

You feel his hands slide up your dress and grip the flesh of your butt. 

“Coriolanus, not here,” you beg. 

His lips go to your throat in slow, sexual kisses.

“I want another baby,” he requests. 

“Not here. Someone could find us.” 

“Not if you are quiet.” 

“Coryo,” You try. A bit too loud for this liking. He clamps a hand over your mouth, and shushes you with a hard look that tells you he was serious. 

“It would not look good if they found the President and First Lady fucking in a closet.”

He kneels on the floor in front of you, going under your dress and up your legs, bringing down your underwear. 

You feel him put his mouth on you, and you try to relax. It took you months to fall pregnant the last two times. This time wasn’t anything special. 

His fingers dig into the back of your thighs, keeping you close as he works. 

Soon a lapping sound is heard, and Coriolanus leaves your cunt with a kiss.

You try one more time to dissuade him. Telling him to wait until home. But he unbuckles his belt and hoists you up around his waist. 

Your arms circle his shoulders as he pins you to the wall.

You can feel how hard he is against your heat. He bucks up against your wetness in desperation before he lines himself up properly. 

You engulf him in your wetness as he thrusts his hips up into you. 

With no way to hold yourself up, you feel yourself sink and then be thrusted up into.

“Are you going to give me a baby?” He grunts.

He is fast and rough as he slams up into you. His words were heard but your mind was far from them.  

“Yeah?” He teases. His lips go to your neck again, trapping you head against the wall. 

He seemed to continuously hit the spot that you liked, no matter how you moved your hips. 

The pressure means you come too quickly. Coriolanus was nowhere close so would continue. 

You can’t help to groan as he fucks you through your orgasm. 

He reminds you to be quiet once more, and you bite his shoulder to stop the sounds you couldn’t stop coming. 

He knew you had come from the way you clenched around him. 

Taking the back of your neck, he leans you into his shoulder and wraps an arm around your waist. 

He delivers you to the floor, releasing you gently into the tight confines of the cluttered room.

“Think you can manage another one?” He asks. 

You shake your head ‘No’, your words failed you as he continued his brutal pace. 

“I think you could,” he states. 

He uses two fingers to circle your pearl as he drives into you.

The door had no lock. Anyone could open it and see you. 

You were being too loud. You knew you were. But he forced the sounds from you. Your whole body tingled under his touch, your legs shook with pleasure. 

He was not being entirely quiet himself. He grunted and shutters above you feeling his own end coming. 

You feel him twitch in your preceding his exploding into you. 

He beats you but doesn’t stop swirling his fingers, determined to have you finish again. 

You come too loudly causing Coriolanus to cover your mouth with an open palm and look to the door, expecting detection. 

His hand is pulled and with a kiss, Coriolanus pulls back on his ankles with a stupid grin. 

He uses your panties to clean up the excess cum from you before placing the underwear back on you. 

If you had any energy, you would have taken them back off but all you could do was lie there, watching him transform back into a respectable gentleman. 

“We have to get back out there before they send Peacekeepers looking for us.” 

He finishes tucking his shirt back into his pants before reaching down to help you to your feet. 

You’re a little wobbly at first but Coriolanus keeps a firm grip to keep you upright. 

You spend the rest of the fundraiser with damp panties and shaky legs which causes you to bump into Coriolanus as he stands next to you. 

The stupid grin never leaves his face, even in the car ride home. 

Your children are asleep when you arrive home. 

You leave them with a kiss, before going back to your room and rushing to beat Coriolanus to bed while he is occupied going through the messages left for him. 

He joins you in the shower but it’s quick and with the intention of going to bed. 

He talks about the night. Recalling things he enjoyed and disliked. 

He asks you what you think but you shrug. All Capitol events were the same to you. 

You finish your shower while Coriolanus washes his hair. Giving you time to dress and get into bed before him. 

You roll to your side, hoping that the supply closet tryst fulfilled him enough. 

You feel him as he moves in the bed to come over to your side, his arm wraps around your shoulder and his head rests against yours. 

“We should take the kids to the zoo tomorrow. I’ll have it cleared out.”

“Okay,” you reply, knowing that there wasn’t any other option. 

The zoo was large, and there were too many animals to see before nap time. 

Crassus got whiny and tired from all the walking and climbing on things. He demanded to be carried. Instead of using his words, he would scream when he got sick of looking at the same animal. 

Normally you would have returned home to put him down for a nap, but Coriolanus enjoyed having his son rest on his shoulder. Crassus was a mommy’s boy and very rarely wanted to be held by anyone else. 

It was not your first time at the zoo. You had taken Crassus while you were six months pregnant with Aurora. It still amazed you, however. You could spend hours just looking and learning about the animals, but Crassus was lucky to push a five hour awake period. 

It was a blessing to visit the penguins where the sound of the gentle flowing water, and cool air sent him to sleep on Coriolanus' shoulder. 

You pushed the pram that Aurora was asleep in as you and Coriolanus searched for a comfortable resting place.

Finding a canopy, you sit with your family in the shade. Coriolanus had successfully transferred Crassus from his shoulder to the bench with his head resting on his father's thigh. 

Coriolanus’s other leg went out to gently rock the pram with his expensive shoe. 

You lay back resting your eyes yourself. Crassus had woken you up from a nightmare. With him in your bed, you got very little sleep as he tossed and spread out. 

Coriolanus disturbs your peace by reaching out to place a hand on your stomach as if there was something already inside. 

“What do you think it will be?” he asks. 

“We don’t know there is anything in there.” 

Coriolanus had wanted you to take a test this morning but it was chaos trying to get the children ready for the day. 

“I don’t care what it is myself. I was thinking Marcellus for a boy, and Lillian for a girl”. 

You cry at the thought of being pregnant again. It was a horrible experience. It was uncomfortable, tiring, and you suffered great nausea all throughout the nine months. That's all before the recovery period while you run around after two other children.

“Hey,” his voice is soft and reassuring. He stops rocking the pram to reach his hand to yours. 

The hand that wasn’t captured by Coriolanus went to your mouth to quieten your blathering. You were always cautious about what the children saw.

“If it’s too much I’ll let you get a nanny to help during the day” he offers. 

You rip your hand out from under him in anger, “I don’t want a nanny.” 

You didn’t trust Capitol people to be around your children. Only when you were forced to where you parted from them. They were too young. They needed their mother. 

“You’re tired,” he pandered. His hand wraps around your shoulder to pull you down to his lap. You rest your head on his thigh like your son, and find your eyes shut by themselves. 

You feel his fingers itch your head until you are asleep. Coriolanus waits until your breath evens before returning to rock the pram with his hand. With his arm rested over his oldest child, and his hand lulling his baby girl to sleep, Coriolanus felt a swell of pride.  

His family slept under his protection and lead. Pamen had entered into a new golden age. All paths led him here. 

You woke to the sound of Aurona crying which woke and upset Crassus. 

On instinct, you shoot up from Coriolanus to retrieve your baby girl. She needed to be fed again, but Crassus was now rejecting Coriolanus’s hold, wanting to be picked up by you. 

You oblige him when his face starts to turn red from crying. You feel their tears on either side of your collarbones. Their screams rang in your ear. 

Coriolanus stretches his dead legs, slowly easing himself up to place a hand on Crassus' back.

“Let's get ice cream,” he bribes. 

Crasuss turns his head to look at his father and nods.

With a bright smile, Coriolanus claps his hands together before opening them wide, “Come to daddy?” He asks. 

You never let him get ice cream at the zoo. It was too close to nap time. So with the promise Crassus eagerly goes into his father's arms. 

At the ice cream shop you could feed Aurona but it took far longer than normal with the anxiety that you were pregnant with your third. Something told you that you were.

It was a boy. A gorgeous baby boy. Doll was your nickname for him, but Coriolanus officially names him Adrianus. He cried very little, and at six weeks old he slept through the night. He latched easily, and from 3 to 4 in the afternoon, he would laugh insatiably at everything. He was a dream child. You were very happy with him, despite his initial undesired conception. 

Life settled for a little bit as Coriolanus worked to quell a quiet rebellion brewing in the Districts. 

For a year Coriolanus was kept busy. His mind off expanding his family. 

For the moment he was happy with the three wonderful kids you had given him. Something you could share. Three young kids, five and under,  left you exhausted by the end of the day, yet when the day was over and the kids were asleep, Coriolanus demanded your attention. 

Coriolanus was not immune to jealousy even from his own kids. You had learnt to give him enough attention during the day when he was around but it only starved him off until night time. He rarely talked about work. Only upcoming events that concern you. He was more interested in you recounting every single thing the kids did. 

After having the kids hang off you all day, your least favorite thing to do was have Coriolanus all over you. But when it was his time, he followed you everywhere you went. Insisting that you sat on the couch with him for an hour. He didn’t feel like it was much, but you felt as if it was the last bit of energy zapped out of you. 

You normally got a break when Coriolanus returned home from work. He started early so normally he was home in the late afternoon. While you had lots of staff to help you with chores and cooking, you preferred to do it yourself. It gave you a routine that you could go auto-pilot on. 

From five to six every day you were in your kitchen while Coriolanus watched the children. Capitol food took some getting used to. Half of the meat you had never even seen before. Coriolanus organized cooking lessons to help you as a Mother’s Day gift. 

Dinner was often followed by free play if they weren’t too messy, allowing you time to feed Adrianus. It was important that he had your full attention as you fed as he was so quiet that you might miss a cue of his discomfort. 

Crassus sat coloring at the kitchen table while you were in the kitchen trying to feed your youngest boy, Adrianus, who had just turned one

Coriolanus sat next to his son watching as your daughter Aurora showed off her expensive ball gown that her father had brought her simply because she wanted it. ‘No’ was not in Coriolanus’s vocabulary when it came to his children. 

He held out accessories in his palm for her as she explained what they were and where they went. 

Despite ruling a country with an iron fist, at home, it was you who disciplined the children. He let them run wild, while you tried to raise them to be respectable, and moral children. Your work mostly paid off. They were good children. 

Aurora having free reign over her father and older brother, who both bent over backwards to please her, was spoiled. Her tantrums were something you were yet to stop, but she was sweet when not disappointed which was more often than not. 

She only had to cry and Coriolanus would pick her up, giving her what she wanted. It annoyed you to no end. If your marriage was equal, you would push more for him to discipline the kids, but Coriolanus only ever gave you the illusion of partnership. 

“Mummy, how did you meet Daddy?” Crassus asks out of nowhere as he draws. 

The small spoon in your hand drops to the floor as memories that you had buried spring up. The stalking, the harassment, the loss of freedom. You remember the late nights as your mother cried out from pain from the flogging that he ordered. 

“Mummy used to own a cake shop, and Daddy would go by every morning before University to buy one.” Coriolanus answered for you. He reaches out and brushes Crassus' hair lovingly. 

“Dad, you can’t have cake for breakfast!” Aurora exclaimed. 

“Oh, but I did! Your mother would make them special for me.” 

You close your eyes remembering the words, ‘Can you make me some more of those oat bars.’ A demand, not a gesture on your behalf. You remember the hard wall behind you as he pressed you there. Just the thought of it brought your heart back into your throat as if it was happening all over again.

“She doesn’t let me have cake for breakfast!” Aurora complained. Tears sprang to her eyes causing Crassus to push a lollypop you had given him for eating his dinner across the table, trying to fight off his sister's tears. 

Coriolanus picks her up from the floor and places her on his knee so she can cry into his arms. 

“Darling, these are special cakes. Ones you give to someone you want to marry.” 

You remember the cakes you used to make Edmund. Edmund, you hadn’t thought about him in years, yet the scar on your heart never healed. 

“Not growing little girls.” Still, your daughter cried, which displeased Coriolanus. 

He rises from the table with Aurora in his arms and heads into the fridge. 

“Let's see if Mum baked any for you”. 

Your youngest son begins to cry from hunger which snaps you out of your spiraling. With your daughter receiving a cupcake and your son resuming feeding, the room is calm once more. But your hand shook as your mind flooded with memories of Commander Snow. 

Moments later, Crassus presented you with a picture of two stick figures surrounded by out-of-proportion cupcakes. You stared at it with the weight of your baby resting on your hip. 

Just like that Coriolanus had rewritten history. Commander Snow was a distant dream. District 12 a vague thought. Lucy Gray no longer haunted the woods. No longer made Coriolanus Snow the victor of the 10th Hunger Games. The war scar had faded. He had fixed history’s mistakes. 

He had taken his rightful place as President of Pamen. Only you were left to remember him as Commander Snow. 

The end!

Thank you all for reading, and coming along for the journey. Especially to those who commented and motivated me to write. This story would not have been complete without you.

A HUGE thank you to @hotline-to-hell for editing the work, and restructuring the mess.

And a HUGE thank you to @thaleleah and (who i assume is the same) anon who took the time out to encourage me with their long, and hilarious feedback.

Hope to see you all in my other works!

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[aemondapologistfrfr]

Command Me 1/2

knight!benji blackwood x strong!fem!reader //

oc!brandon stark x strong!fem!reader

Summary: Your mother thinks it’s best you marry sooner rather than later and betrothes you to a man you’ve never met from the north. The only say you have in your life at the moment is picking out a sworn protector. Your marriage leaves you unhappy and unfulfilled and Benji has no problem helping in anyway he can. 

Warnings: 18+ swearing, mentions of murder, arranged marriage, wine, age gap, marriage duties, unhappy marriage, moon tea, cheating, oral(f receiving), p in v, bit angsty ngl

Authors Note: request from @chainsawsangel, no explicit detail of oc!stark and y/n intimate moments

Word Count: 5.4k

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

My ears start ringing as my mother’s words start to float around my head. I focus on my breathing as I feel like I’m gasping for air. The council members nod around the table as I can hear the blood pumping throughout my body. She places her hand on mine and looks to me expectantly. 

“What?” I shake my head confused. 

“I asked if you wanted to travel back with Cregan to meet your betrothed.” she says with a smile that tells me I’ll have a scolding later. 

“Absolutely not.” I take my hand from hers and place it in my lap. 

“That is fine, Princess. My uncle won’t mind coming down here for you.” he offers me a smile that doesn’t seem genuine. 

“He shouldn’t since he’s my king consort.” I scoff. 

“Y/n.” my mothers tone low and warning. 

“I await his arrival in anticipation, my Lord.” I nod my head and push my chair back against the stone. If looks could kill my mother would have me stringed up against the council chamber walls. I walk out of the hall and practically start sprinting out of the castle. 

“Princess!” guards shout after me as I take a horse from the courtyard and gallop into the city. The city folk move out of my way as I race to the pits. I abandon the horse outside and call for the dragon keepers to wake my dragon. The ground begins to shutter as my dragon emerges. 

“Hello my handsome boy.” I coo as he pushes into me. I admire his black scales that simmer the brightest lilac in the sun and begin to mount. Once my clips are in place he’s running us out of the pit as we both share the sentiment to get out of this city. As we fly over Kings Landing my dragon gives a fearsome cry and we shoot off to the Kings Wood. 

The breeze flows through my hair and I finally feel some relief. I lean down and hug my dragon as he offers me a deep rumble. I beat my mother by two years for youngest dragon rider. I was five when I first mounted him and he brought us about the city giving high pitched screeches at the common folk. Ever since then we would disappear for a week or more to just fly and explore.

She would send countless parties in search of me but we quickly found caves that would keep us hidden. She’s learned where I go now so I decide to just stick to the Kings Wood to avoid the yelling I’m sure to receive. We land in the cover of the tree canopies by the lake and sprawl out in the sun. I rest my head on his tail as he buries his head into the tall grass scaring away the mice and bugs. 

“I can’t believe she would marry me off to some old northerner.” I sigh looking up at the clouds. My dragon offers me a deep chuff. 

I hear the high pitched dragon call before I see him. As Caraxes comes into view I sigh at her sending him. She knows that we butt heads like bulls so I’m not sure what she’s expecting from this. Daemon lands and begins to walk over to me and my dragon raises his head and bares his teeth. 

“Relax, mother would kill me.” I pat my dragons thigh chuckling and look to Daemon expectantly. 

“Sometimes I wonder how you’re not my child.” he chuckles as he approaches. 

“I don’t know why you would think that. You never raised me and still don’t.” I look up to him from the ground intent on staying where I am. 

“Fair enough,” he sits on the ground and looks to me with a taunting smile. 

“What?” I snap sitting up. 

“Your mother wants you back at the Keep. She wants you to pick out a sworn protector for yourself.” he studies me as I roll my eyes. 

“As if I’ll have a choice in the matter.” I push myself up and my dragon rises behind me. I mount him and leave Daemon behind at the lake. When I land back at the pits my mother is there waiting for me with a furrowed brow. The carriage ride back to the Keep is silent and when we stop in the inner courtyard I try to run off to my chambers but she stops me. 

“What’s wrong?” she searches my eyes. 

“I don’t want to marry some second son from the north who I’ve never met and you think allowing me to pick a sworn protector will fix that?” I rise my hands at a loss. 

“Into the Keep now.” she says lowly and I see the eyes on us from around the grounds. She brings us into her solar and I huff sitting on the couch. 

“You remind me so much of my younger self.” she hums with a soft smile. 

“Mm,” I nod my head wanting to be back with my dragon or in my chambers. 

“You may find love with Brandon.” my mother tries to hide her wince. 

“So that’s his name. How bland. Brandon the Bland I should call him.” I groan throwing my head back against the couch. 

“Y/n I worked hard to make this match. You will treat him with respect. He comes from an honorable and noble house.” her voice starts rising. 

“I don’t care if he’s noble,” I shake my head angry. “I don’t know him, I don’t want him,” I feel tears start forming and I wipe them away frustrated with the world.

“Sweet girl,” 

“Don’t sweet girl me.” I rise from the couch. “I’m tempted to get in my dragon and flee to where you’ll never find me.” I run out of her chambers and straight into Jace. I push him back and he calls after me. 

I seal myself in my chambers and let my tears flow freely. I don’t care about a husband or a sworn protector. I don’t care about the crown or ruling. I hear the whispers everyday about who my father is and how dark my hair is. I don’t want to be ridiculed for the entirety of my rule especially with some man who doesn’t even know me. 

“I’m not here to baby you. Get up and let’s go.” Daemons voice comes from the other side of the door. 

“I’m not going anywhere.” I yell back through the wood. He pushes the door open harshly and grabs my arm pulling me with him. 

“Your mother has been inviting these knights here for well over a moon. You will not embarrass her.” he says through his teeth pulling me down the stairs. I start to push and hit his hand off as the servants in the hall advert their eyes from our spat. We stumble down the rest of the stairs and we stare at each other waiting to see what the other does. I go to pull my arm back and he pulls me closer with a scowl on his face. 

“Get the fuck off of me.” I spit out at him. 

“You’re causing a scene.” he tugs me along to the hall and as we enter all of the knights turn to look at me. I push Daemon off of me and look over the men before me with a raised chin and a death glare. 

“Leave.” I wave off Daemon and the men before me look at the ground as if it’s the most interesting. 

“Step forward if you’re from Kings Landing or the Queens guard.” I hum and a handful of men step forward. “You are dismissed.” I nod them to the door and they look at me with their mouth agape and I look at the five remaining men. 

“If you are from the north step forward.” two men slowly step forward. “You are dismissed.” I look over them unamused. 

“You three are the only remaining.” I offer them a serpentine smile. “Tell me why I should choose you.” I take a seat and watch them look at me. 

“I am a Dornish Swordsman and trained along side Ser Criston-“ 

“A mistake. You are dismissed.” I wave him off and place my head in my hand bored. “Next.”

“Princess,” the man older than Daemon nods his head. “I trained this young man here. He was recently knighted and easily my best student. Anything and everything he knows, I taught him.” he sounds proud. 

“So the most obvious choice is him then? You’re old and withering and he’s young,” I look over the man next to him who only seems to be a handful of years older than me. “Did you even come here to try for a place as my sworn protector?” I look over the old man. 

“I- Princess, I’m-“ 

“Enough,” I wave him off. “You’re dismissed.” 

I turn my head back to the man in front of me and tilt my head. I study him with squinted eyes and can see that he has the muscle required for this job. He’s easy on the eyes which will be a welcome reprieve if my betrothed isn’t. He stands with a puffed out chest and confidence pouring off of him and I rise and walk in front of him. I look up to him and he nods his head down to me. 

“Tell me your name.” I look into his eyes and smile when I see no fear. 

“Ser Benjicot Blackwood.” his voice flows through my ears like honey. 

“Mm a Riverman,” I smile. “I’ve had some great times in taverns outside Raventree Hall when I was on the run.” I chuckle thinking back. 

“On the run from what, my Princess?” he offers me a soft smile. 

“My life and duties.” I shrug. “It looks like you’re the last knight standing Benji.” his spine straightens at the name. 

“It seems that I am.” he nods chewing his lip, the only sign that he has some nerves about being dismissed. 

“Then you shall be my new sworn protector.” a smile pulls across my face as his shoulders relax and he returns my smile. 

“Y/n,” my mother bursts into the hall in a rampage. 

“I’ve chosen Benji.” I turn to her with a smile and she looks him over. 

“You didn’t even give the other men a chance.” she seethes. “Why must everything be like this with you?” she sighs shaking her head. 

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

Today is the day Brandon gets to Kings Landing and I try to convince the maester I’m sick and can’t meet him. He knows my antics and deems me healthy. I’m being tied into a gown as pins are being stuck into my head holding my braids in place. I kick my handmaidens out after hours saying I just needed a moment to myself and I’ll be down shortly. 

“Are you ready, Princess?” Benjis voice comes through my doors. 

“Can you come in?” my voice soft and he slips into my chambers leaving the door open. 

“What can I do for you, Princess?” he looks over my dress and I see him swallow before his eyes make his way to mine. 

“Did you see him?” my voice hushed. 

“I did.” he nods standing up straighter. 

“Do you think he’s handsome?” I pick at my nails. 

“I don’t know how to answer that.” he says clearing his throat. 

“Benji,” I whine. “It’s simple. Does he look old and decrepit or does he look like you?” his eyes snap to mine and I smirk at him. 

“Your betrothed is waiting for you, Princess.” he turns to walk out of my chambers and I sigh and walk to his side. 

As we make our way down to the main hall I groan and drag my feet. Benji chuckles and slows his pace to stay with me. Over the past moon I’m thankful everyday to this man for traveling here to become my sworn protector. He jokes with me and keeps me company. He is also handsome which I never cease to remind him as his cheeks tint. 

“If I asked you to kill my betrothed would you?” I whisper to Benji. 

“It is my duty to do anything you ask of me.” he nods his head and I smile. 

As we walk into the hall my stomach drops as my eyes land on Brandon. My mother can’t possibly be serious. This man has to have almost two decades on me. I find my mother and I scrunch my eyebrows at her and begin walking to her. 

“Princess,” a gruff voice stops my feet as I turn to Brandon who is looking over my body like a starved man. I step back into Benji and he steadies me. 

“You’re Brandon I presume?” I raise my eyebrow looking up to him. 

“I am.” he grabs my hand much to my horror and places a wet kiss on it. 

“How kind.” I hope my disgust isn’t written over my face. 

“Y/n,” my mother’s worried voice calls me over to her side and I’m practically sprinting to her. 

“I would rather die than marry that man.” I hiss to my mother. 

“That’s enough. You will be married by the end of this moon and that’s final.” I feel so stuck and I turn and see that Brandon is walking back over here. 

“Could I offer you a walk through the gardens, Princess?” Brandon offers me his and I stare at it and look to my mother who nods encouragingly. 

“Sure,” I sigh. “Benji let’s go.” I nod my head for him to follow. 

“Your dog doesn’t need to come with.” Brandon chuckles and I cement my feet. 

“He is not my dog. You will treat my sworn protector with respect or I’ll have him take your tongue.” I look over Brandon who is smiling. 

“Feisty, I like it.” he smiles grabbing my arm and tugging me out of the hall. 

It takes all of my strength not to rip my arm out of his hand. I lead us to the gardens and the silence is anything but comfortable. I look at Brandon out of the corner of my eye and see his years written on his wrinkled forehead. I shiver of disgust runs through me as we enter the gardens. He leads us to the nearest table and sits down and I take a place across from him. 

“You are more beautiful than Cregan lead on.” he hums licking his lips. 

“Did he say anything else?” I drawl looking him over. 

“That I would probably have to wear you down a bit but that’s not an issue, I have great stamina.” he winks at me and I know there’s no hiding the horror on my face. “Mm tell me, do you still have your maidenhead?” his smile makes me feel disgusting. 

“Is that anyway to speak to a Princess?” Benjis voice just short of a growl. 

“She’s to be my wife, boy.” Brandon looks over him and turns his eyes back to me. “Well do you or are you sullied?” 

“I do.” my voice barely a whisper as I feel my cheeks heat. 

“There’s one plus.” he leans back in his seat and looks me over. “I thought you Targaryens were supposed to have silver hair?” he tilts his head. 

“The Gods are mysterious.” I clench my jaw. How could my mother do this to me? I know I wasn’t the easiest child to raise but she can’t possibly think I will be willing to wed this man. My heart starts to beat rapidly and I’m getting overwhelmed. 

“What’s wrong with you now?” Brandon narrows his eyes at me. 

“Benji can you take me to the maester? I feel faint.” I reach for his arm and he’s bending down and helping me to my feet instantly. 

“What’s wrong?” Benjis voice is rushed as he searches my face. 

“I’m hot and I just can’t breathe.” I all but gasp as we make it into the Keep. 

“Just a bit further, Y/n.” he keeps a steady hand around my waist and on out for me to hold on to. 

“Thank you, Benji.” I sigh in relief as we make it to the maesters chambers. 

“Princess what’s wrong?” the maester helps me lay on the bed. 

“She said she’s overheating and her breathing was heavy.” Benji says brushing my hair back. 

“Were you doing something strenuous?” the maester asks as he fills me a glass of water. 

“No, I was just-“ 

“What’s happened?” my mother bursts into the room. 

“Mother,” my voice breaks as I reach out to her. “Please, don’t make me, please,” I start crying and Benji and the maester look worried. 

“What do you mean sweet girl?” she shushes me kneeling at my side. 

“I’ll be better,” I hiccup. “Don’t make me marry that old man, please, mother.” a tear slips down my cheek. 

“Leave us.” she waves her hand at Benji and the maester who are shutting the door behind them quickly. “What possibly could’ve happened?” she sits back looking over my state. 

“He made remarks about bedding me and he made remarks about who my father was.” I sit up looking to her with pleading eyes. “Mother please,” I feel the tears start to well up. 

“Just give it a chance. Maybe he was just excited to see such a beautiful young woman.” she offers me a smile and I sigh knowing I don’t have a choice. 

“I will keep Benji with me. I don’t want to be alone with Brandon.” I shake my head furrowing my brows. 

“Of course you two shouldn’t be alone before you wed.” she nods her head. 

“I don’t want to wed him mother, please.” my voice breaking again as I continue to plead.

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

It feels as if there are rocks in my stomach as I’m twirled around the dance floor. Brandon pulls me back against him and dips down to my ear. His tongue trails along the outer shell and I try to pull back but he holds me firm. When he lifts his head he chuckles at my red cheeks and the crowd claps as our dance ends. 

“Go get a drink and stop being so uptight.” I slip into the crowd trying to keep a smile pinned on my face as I head to find wine. Gods know I’ll need it for tonight. I can’t believe my mother made me go through with this. 

The servant offers me a fresh glass and congratulations on my marriage and I smile and nod. I walk to the outskirts of the crowd and try to calm my nerves. I focus on my breathing and let the hall and celebrations fade away. 

“I wanted to tell you that you look absolutely divine, Princess. I know it’s not my place but I needed to tell you.” Benjis voice is barely a whisper as I turn to him. 

“I wish I wed you tonight.” I feel the tears form and ready to fall. 

“Princess,” Benjis voice strained. 

“I know,” I shake my head wiping my eyes. “Just don’t leave me, please.” my eyes pleading. 

“Anything you ask.” he nods his head. “I am sworn to you.” 

“Thank you.” I finish my glass of wine and head back over to Brandon. 

“Feeling better?” Brandon pulls me against him.

“Much.” I smile trying to pretend I’m not repulsed at his touch. 

“The Princess and I will retire for the night.” he announces loudly and there are rowdy cheers that follow. I feel like my legs are about to give out as he starts to pull me off the dais. I search frantically around the hall for Benji even though I know he can’t stop what’s to come. 

“I’ll escort you both.” Benji comes behind us as Brandon chuckles. 

“Do you expect to witness the act itself too, boy?” Brandon roars out a laugh. 

“No.” I say quickly. 

“Embarrassed, my innocent wife?” I feel my cheeks heat and I bite my tongue deciding to stay silent. We stop outside of his chambers and he pulls me inside sealing the door leaving Benji on the other side. 

I knew what tonight was going to entail but I had hoped he would’ve been more kind and caring of my needs and wants. I performed my duty as best as I could but it didn’t make it any more enjoyable or less painful. He pulls me up from the bed and pushes me out of his doors leaving me in the halls in my slip holding my wedding dress. I look down at the stone floor as it cools my bare feet. 

“Princess?” Benjis voice is soft as he stands in front of me. 

“Can you please take me back to my chambers?” I whisper continuing to look down. 

He pulls his cape off and wraps it around me. I drop my wedding gown outside Brandon’s chambers as I cling to the cape. As we start up the stairs I wince at the pain between my thighs. We make it to my chambers and a sob of relief bubbles out of me. I turn towards Benji to thank him and see that his jaw is set and he looks ready to murder someone. 

“I need you to command me to stay right here. In this exact spot. Or I will walk down those stairs and make you a widow.” I can feel his temper rising around us and I’m tempted to let him make me a widow this very second but this isn’t a decision to be made in haste.

“I need you here with me. I need you to find a servant to bring me water for a bath and I need you to do something with discretion.” my voice hushed as I look around the halls. 

“Anything.” he nods his head searching my eyes. 

“Go to the maester. Offer him good coin for his silence. Say you had a lapse in judgment and slept with a maid and you need moon tea. Please Benji, I can’t have his child.” I beg. 

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

Brandon pushes me outside of his chambers again and I see Benji clenching his fists. He falls into step beside me as we walk silently back to my chambers. I gave up on wearing slippers to his chambers because the cool stone on the walk back helps ground me. This has been happening once every fortnight for the past three moons and I either have Benji or my personal handmaiden retrieve my moon tea. 

“I’ll be back with the tea.” Benji says lowly leaving me at my chamber doors. 

“Benji I don’t need,” I stutter. “He made me suck-“ I shake my head feeling my cheeks burn and I hear him deeply inhale. 

“Princess,” his voice like gravel as his eyes slide to mine. 

“Can you just come in with me?” my voice barely audible as I hold my door open. He sighs and follows allowing the door to shut behind us. 

“What can I do for you?” he stands at my doors back ridged. 

“I just need you to be here with me,” I sit and he claims the chair furthest from me. “Do you find me repulsive now that I’m sullied?” I don’t mean for my words to sound as pathetic as they do. 

“I could never find you repulsive.” he replies quickly. “I think you’re the most ethereal being I’ve ever met.” his voice laced with reverence. 

“Why do you think my husband wants to cause me so much pain? Or is that how it’s supposed to feel? I don’t have anyone to talk to.” I fidget my fingers and hear his sharp inhale. 

“It wouldn’t hurt if he was worshiping you properly. He’s a fool he should have his face buried,” he stops himself and finds his composure. “I’m sorry, please forgive my words Princess.” 

“The only place his face is buried is my neck as he ruts into me. I used to try to think of someone else in hopes that it would make it more pleasurable but when that didn’t help I just learned to keep my eyes squeezed shut and toss out a couple fake moans.” I should feel embarrassed to be divulging this to Benji but it feels so relieving to talk to someone about it. 

“He should be able to tell the difference.” he shakes his head as I see his knuckles turning white from his grip on the chair. 

“I don’t know I can be convincing.” I allow myself to chuckle.  “Yeah, so good,” I moan followed by a whimper and I burst out in giggles as Benjis head snaps up to me. 

“Has he made you come?” his dark eyes search my face. 

“No.” I shake my head as my blush revives on my neck. “He just uses me and throws me out of his chambers. I could live with it if I at least got that relief but I just get to walk back to my chambers and go to bed.” I sigh leaning back in the chair. 

“Can I, I want to,” he bites his lip turning away. “I should let you rest for the night.” he starts to stand. 

“Say it.” I nod my head prompting him. 

“Can I make you come?” my heart skips at his words and I nod my head quickly. “I need to hear you say it.” his voice wrecked. 

“Can you please make me come, Benji?” I bat my eyelashes at him. He rises from the chair and stalks over to me. He towers over me before he kneels before me and begins to trail his hands up my legs spreading them. My cheeks burn as my core is exposed to his face and he looks up to me with hooded eyes. 

“Has he ever kissed you here before?” he asks propping my legs on his shoulders. 

“No,” I shake my head gasping at the coolness of his metal armor on my calves. 

“May I?” he looks up to me as he places soft kisses on the inside of my thighs. 

“Please Benji,” I reply breathlessly. 

He licks up my slit and my chest heaves. His tongue circles my neglected bud and I push my hips into his mouth. Whimpers pour from my mouth as he pulls me flush against his face. He moans into my center as my hips grind against him. I brush against his nose and I moan loudly burying my hand in his hair holding him close. I continue to buck against him as he laps at me. 

“Benji, I-“ I sob as pleasure washes over me and his tongue continues to work me through it. He pulls back and looks up to me with a smile on his face. 

“Those moans sounded nothing like what you did before.” his words laced with confidence. 

“I want to come again.” I say still trying to catch my breath. 

“As you command, Princess.” he dips back between my legs. 

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

Benji is walking me back to my chambers after a particularly rough night with Brandon. I’m starting to loathe my husband more than I thought possible. Benji follows me into my chambers and seals the doors behind us. 

“Your handmaiden should be back with the tea shortly.” he sits on a chair in front of me trying to gauge my emotions. 

“Would you still kill him if I asked?” I look up to him and he nods. 

“Just say the word.” he searches my eyes. 

“Maybe we use poison or something so they won’t know it’s you.” I nibble on my lip trying to come up with a plan. 

“It’d have to be one that would make him suffer. He doesn’t deserve an easy way out.” he shakes his head working himself up. 

“Your devotion never ceases to amaze me.” I look to him and stand as there’s a soft knock at my door. “Thank you.” I smile at my handmaiden and click the door shut once again. I drain the contents of the cup and join Benji on the chairs again. 

“When do you want him dead?” his tone low as he watches my slip rise up. 

“As soon as possible. I can’t take it anymore.” I sigh stretching. “You can say no because I know where I just came from but can you make me feel good Benji? I want to forget everything.” I slide my eyes to him. 

“I will always want you.” he starts to rise from his chair. 

“I need you, Benji. Show me how good it can feel.” I plead as I pull him over to the bed. 

We start to remove his armor and when I finally lift off his shirt and feel his bare chest I groan. He pulls my slip above my head and leaves me bare before him. He pulls me into a kiss and I melt into him as our chests mold together. I unlace his trousers and he begins to kick them off. We fall back onto the bed and I feel his hardness pressed against my leg. I buck against him waiting for him to push into me. 

“There’s no rush, I’m taking my time with you.” he kisses down my neck and between my breasts. He licks across them and sucks a nipple into his mouth. I gasp as he swirls his tongue around my hardened peak and my nails hold onto his back. He chuckles and moves the next to offer it the same attention. 

“Benji,” I gasp as he grazes his teeth across my nipple before pulling up. 

“There’s a lot of pleasure I can show you, Princess.” he kisses down my navel and I buck my hips in anticipation. “Do you wanna come?” he chuckles pressing my hips into the bed. 

“Please Benji,” I cry out as his lips attach to my bud. 

As he circles his tongue I feel his fingers glide through my wetness and I squirm. He slips two fingers into my core and I whine squeezing my thighs around his head. When he curls his fingers I feel my high building in my lower stomach. My whines become more high pitched the faster he pumps his fingers. 

“Benji right there, yes,” I gasp as I come undone. He slowly comes back up my body trailing soft kisses. “I need you in me.” I wrap my legs around his waist. 

“Tell me if you want me to stop at any point.” his eyes look to mine and I nod kissing him softly. 

He slowly pushes in and I whimper at his stretch. He slowly rocks his hips into me as I mewl clinging to him. He rolls his hips and a broken moan falls from my lips. The difference is absolutely mind blowing. The pleasure he is pulling from my body has me feeling as if I’m flying through the sky. 

“How does it feel, Princess?” Benji rasps as I clench around him. 

“I’m so full of you, Benji.” I gasp holding him closer. He starts to pump into me at a quicker pace and my eyes roll back. His fingers find my throbbing bud causing his name to fall from my lips like a prayer. I pulse around him losing myself to my pleasure and I feel him begin to fill me. He slides out of me and pulls me against his chest kissing my face and smoothing my hair. I feel safe and loved in his arms.

“I’m gunna kill your husband tomorrow.” he promises as he rests his forehead on mine. 

“Thank you, Benji.” I capture his lips as we get lost in each other once more. 

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

masterlist 🔌 

Part Two

taglist ✍️ 

@clarityisnofun @callsignwidow @gabriella-aesthetic @llynx7 @violetiss3lfish @ka1afbr @akiko-oo @papichulo120627 @lizzylovebooks280501 @thatgirl101blog @ashovertheriver @zanygot7straykidsbonk @hueanhdang @malfoycassimalfoy @anaviieiraaa @p45510n4f4shi0n

[syoddeye]

the warren

price x reader | 895 words

had the overwhelming urge to write creepy!price. this is the result. not closely edited, apologies.

CW: blood (mentioned), hunting (mentioned/implied), theft, stalking

Bare footprints, neat impressions set into the loam ringing the lake. They veered left to the woods, to the direction of the climb leading to meadows.

Where'd you run now?

The signs of her trail are near invisible in the night - disturbed foliage and snapped twigs - but not to him. Crouching at the edge where the prints disappear into the underbrush, he sees dark droplets of blood, wet, painting leaf and root. He wipes one off of a stone, brings it to his mouth, and runs the pad of his finger over his gums and tongue. Salt and metal, the very things she tried to use to keep him out, keep him away.

The very things he had developed a taste for.

John admires her spirit, even with his plan to snuff out that independence. Her frenzied escape only heightened his anticipation for when he'd catch her.

Run, rabbit, run.

~~ Three months earlier ~~

John knew the day he spied her trespassing at the hutch that her hands were clean. Soft and unsullied. Not a speck of dirt under her fingernails. Polite and easy with her apologies, lips parting to show a pink tongue and good teeth.

She saw the cat, followed it over the unmarked property line, and then spotted the colony in its enclosure.

"You like animals?" 

"Yes, who doesn't?"

"Come see the kittens, then."

She trailed after him, around the side of the shophouse and back to the business side. He held his tongue when she observed none of the lots on the road bracketing the bay were fenced.

Fences were unnecessary this far out. Everything, everyone, knew their place. Knew where they were not allowed to tread without invitation. Everyone except her, apparently.

A newcomer to this neck of the woods.

She crouched, peered into the plastic, straw-filled tub on the porch, and watched the week-old creatures half-blindly search for their mother. The heat lamp was a functional substitute while the queen was out filling her belly.

"So, this is your shop?" She brushed herself off when she stood, eyeing the store's interior through the front windows.

"Mhm."

"Are you closed?"

"For lunch, as of five minutes ago."

"Oh."

He sighed. "But I can delay my meal. C'mon."

"Thank you, I promise I won't take long."

~~

She takes ten minutes. John leans against the back counter, steel thermos down to the dregs of the morning's coffee. The basket in the crook of her arm carries a week's worth of canned and dry goods. She presents it with a small smile and digs into a pocket for her cardholder.

He rings her up, poking through the haul. In addition to the sundry of foodstuff, there are basic toiletries, insect repellent, a lighter, and a pack of twelve-hour candles. She adds a pair of cheap red sunglasses from the revolving display. They do not make it into the final total.

"Can I ask what brings an Englishman here?" She asks after handing over a wad of cash, setting her wallet down to take the tag off of the sunglasses.

Like clockwork. Always the same question with every new face.

"Retirement," He cards through the bills and makes change. "And you? Visiting?"

"I'm renting for the summer."

He smirks and closes the cash drawer. Holding out what she's owed over a manicured hand, he tilts his head slightly. "Would that be the old Warren place? Or the Lakeshore Arms?" He drops the money.

A few coins slip through the cracks of her fingers, clattering sharply against the formica, some ricocheting to the floor at her sandaled feet.

"Limited housing supply here, least longer term," John explains, making no move to assist other than lazily pushing a quarter back across the counter.

She scrambles to collect the scattered tender, resurfacing from the other side of the counter with a sheepish look beneath her brow, clearly flustered. "The Warren place."

"Hm. Need a bag?"

"No, thanks," She says, smiling tight when she pulls two canvas bags from the sling over her chest. She drops the items into each bag inelegantly. Cans settle atop the loaf of white bread, and the bug spray slots snugly next to the toothpaste.

Never bagged her own groceries before, I'll bet.

She grabs her wallet. "Are there…any other stores nearby?"

"Next place is two towns over. About an hour and a ten-minute drive, forty-five minutes if you speed," John leans back, arms crossing. I assure you, though, the store's got everything you need right here. And if it doesn't…All you need to do is ask."

It's heavy-handed. He knows. But it's better to plant the seed now and let it take root.

"I'll keep that in mind," She sets the sunglasses atop her head and turns to leave, only to spot the short stack of bagged deer corn near the door. One hand on the door, she takes a closer look. "Aw, I didn't know you could feed the deer like this."

His mouth slowly curls. "It's bait, sweetheart."

The instant drop in her expression sends a wicked thrill down his spine.

When she leaves, he watches her hurry down the road through the glass. He flips the sign on the door again: Out to lunch. 

John fishes her ID card out of his pocket, murmurs her name, and looks back at her retreating form.

You're a long way from home, rabbit.

[darkpuppysuit]

Happiness

HybridAU- BTS- OT7- poly!ot7, Hybrid!bts (minus Seokjin) x Hybrid!reader

6.5k Words

Fluff and crack pretty much.

WARNINGS: Hybrid abuse, mentions of s*xual content, slightly bloody, one mention of "the devils lettuce" oh and cursing duh.

Uh nothing else I don't think?

Lmk if I missed something.

Run, run faster, don't stop fucking running.

Those are the only words that ring like a broken mantra inside my head as I sprint down the empty sidewalk in the dead of night, for what reason is a hybrid running alone at this time of night?

I'll tell you.

I was once a present for a little girl of a wealthy businessman about five years ago, everything was going great for me at first, the girl and I were friends she loved me with her whole heart, my adoption certificate was even in her name, she was my whole world after I had just turned twenty and the adoption was set in stone.

Her father let her adopt a hybrid strictly because most of them were good with kids and he thought of me as some glorified babysitter but not even a year later my little girl was diagnosed with brain cancer and she passed away on her birthday the following year.

Her mother couldn't even look at me without crying remembering all the fun times the three of us had together, like the summer picnic we had at a local park for my adoption day or the movie night we had after Christmas had come and gone, laughing and throwing popcorn at each other when a food fight started on screen.

The father on the other hand is a nasty man, back door dealing drugs, guns and ammo, you name it he gave it to you for a high price whether that be information on his competitors or cold hard cash, while the face of his business was a hybrid rights center, bunch of bullshit if you ask me.

He started coming into my room a month after his daughter passed away, a drunken fool but who was I to tell him no or get away from me? I couldn't do jack shit I had to sit there and take the punches and the slaps of the whip he brought into my room the same night.

He would yell at me for killing his daughter at the beginning then he started blaming me for everything that was wrong in the world using racial slurs and hybrid slurs in a means to get under my skin so I would lash out at him, giving him another reason to punish me.

He would starve me half to death because I was too big for a hybrid that was meant to be small and frail, unable to provide or protect herself, most of the time I wasn't even allowed to leave my room but tonight was the final straw.

I couldn't take the years of abuse anymore so once he was passed out in the bed next to me I used it as my chance to escape, putting my clothes back on as quickly and quietly as I could before silently running downstairs and out the door.

The cool spring air sent a chill down my spine, I closed the door gently and started walking out of the rich neighborhood I once called home and down the first alleyway I could find which was my first mistake.

I rub my hands up and down my arms hoping to keep myself somewhat warm cautiously walking forward and looking over my shoulder every now and again to see if someone was following me when I hit a brick wall, no, brick walls don't growl like that.

"Look what the cat dragged in!" The mystery man roughly grabs me by the shoulders and yanks me in front of him with a disgusting smirk on his face his scent reeks of shitty cigars and marijuana with a hint of wood rot. "She looks like one of those rich bastard's hybrids look at what she's wearing, not to mention that diamond studded collar she's got on." Another hybrid stands in front of my shaking form flicking my sensitive ears causing me to squeak.

"Awe would you listen to her? Do it again Max she seems to like it." He chuckles darkly before the other man flicks my ear again causing me to hum due to how sensitive my ears were. "Please s-stop I don't-" A fist meets my already starving stomach causing me to fall into the grime and garbage below me.

The hybrid that was previously holding my arm kneels next to me, his horrid scent filling my nose and I clamp my hand over my mouth but it was so pungent I could taste it in the back of my throat, I damn near threw up.

"Give us your collar bitch and we'll call it a night." He demands, I couldn't bring myself to let it go not now, it was the first present my little girl gave me when she adopted me, it's become the last physical memory I have of her.

The thin hybrid grabs a fist full of my hair and yanks my head back exposing my throat and only now do I notice that their both bear hybrids, shit. "You heard him squirrel hand it over and we'll let you get away with your life."

I have no idea what to do so I take a short glance around me and find an old pipe and lunge for it, swinging it at them connecting with one of their heads. "You're gonna regret that rat!" I don't give either of them enough time to scramble after me as I'm already out of the alleyway.

Those events are what have led me to a suburban area filled with houses with two very pissed bear hybrids running after me, tears filling my vision but that doesn't stop me from running, my legs however are about to give out from under me at any given moment and I don't feel like becoming their next meal.

I dip into a strangely large, random backyard and hide in the bushes at the back of the house in an attempt to catch my breath. My body shivers and shakes with every breath of air I take. A short minute later the bears catch up to me and my body goes into overdrive and I pass out.

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The morning sunlight shines through the sheer curtains into the large bedroom when an alarm clock starts screaming and the blanket on the bed starts to shift slowly with a few grunts and groans to accompany the body that moved to turn the alarm off and slink out of the tangle of other bodies in the bed.

"Why so early hyung? Come back to bed." In reality it wasn't early at all not to Seokjin at least. "It's only eight in the morning bun, not even as early as it should have been, let go of my leg."  He quips trying to shake the bunny hybrid off of him without waking the others.

He successfully manages to escape his grasp almost falling before he saunters the length of the floor into their shared master bathroom to take a shower and get ready for work. Another person starts to move out from underneath the pile of warm bodies, actually face planting onto the floor with a loud thud followed by groan.

"Fuck, that hurt." The coyote hybrid groggily drags himself off the ground to his feet, looking around for his boxers and a shirt to wear downstairs to make some coffee and maybe a quick breakfast for his mates. 

He jogs downstairs pulling an oversized old tee over his head towards the kitchen and turning the stove light next to the coffee machine on, getting it started as he pulls three mugs out of the cabinet above his head. "Good morning my love." The coyote hybrid sleepily preens at the nickname as he hands the panther hybrid his mug, taking a sip of his own. "Morning Yoons, did you sleep good?" The hybrid grunts as he slowly shuffles towards the breakfast nook, sitting in the corner facing the window. 

"Honestly Hobi, I could've slept better if someone's foot wasn't wedged in my fucking ribcage all night." He grunts when the sound of heavy footsteps causes his ears to perk up and swivel around to listen to his younger mate trudge down the stairs.

"It's not my fault you always end up at the foot of the bed after sex, kitty cat." The wolf hybrid greets him with a peck on his forehead before moving over to the bar located at the large island in the middle of the open kitchen giving Hoseok a morning kiss on the lips. 

"It is so your fault, you have the longest legs I've ever seen on a hybrid, big oaf." Yoongi quips glaring at the walking oak tree of a hybrid. Before any of them could get another word out Seokjin comes down the stairs in his snazzy navy blue suit.

"Morning my boys." He says happily completely unaware of the small fight that could've happened had he not walked down the stairs when he did. "Coffee on the porch? It's nice out this morning." Seokjin greets each of his mates with a quick kiss before grabbing his mug out of Hoseok's hands and starts towards the sliding glass door located at the edge of the living room.

They sit out on the nicely decorated porch for a few minutes, sipping their coffee in near silence. It was peaceful birds were chirping away, the warm rays of the sun shining down on them. Yoongi finished his coffee a few minutes ago so now he's resting his head on his older mates lap with his eyes closed soaking in the morning sun rays.

Hoseok sits on the opposite side scrolling through his phone while Namjoon sits across from the three of them reading a book set in medieval times complete with a damsel in distress and a brave hero come to save the day, you know that classic cliche.

The wind blows gently across the patio, causing Hoseok to sniff the air for a moment before pinching his nose shut and opening his mouth disturbing the quiet morning. "Do you smell that?" He continues to sniff the air around him, taking a whiff of Seokjin and Yoongi as he stands up from his perch, his ears flicking in every direction trying to locate any sound and the awful smell of burning pine, wilting lavender and cigars? 

"Yeah I smell it too it's killing my fucking nose." Yoongi complains making no effort to get up from his spot on the outdoor couch nuzzling his face into Seokjin's stomach to hopefully mask the odor with his sweet scent of bubble gum and vanilla. "Whatever it is we have to find it and get rid of it before the other three wake up, you know how sensitive Jungkook's nose is." Seokjin quickly finishes his coffee nudging a half asleep panther until he moves off his lap to help look for the source. Even though he didn't have a sense of smell like his mates, that didn't stop him from helping them look. 

All four of them look around the open yard first, checking the nearby tree line and flower patch just on the other side of the house before Seokjin takes it upon himself to sift through the flower bushes located next to the porch, pricking his fingers on the thorns a couple times before he spots something small twitching deep within his pink rose bush.

"Hey I think I found something! Namjoon I need your long arms!" Seokjin yells for the wolf that comes running to his mates side, he points down into the rose bush with his nose holding the branches and flowers out of the way so he didn't accidently crush any of his precious roses. 

Namjoon gently puts his hand down to reach for the small creature pulling it out and looking it over. "What the fuck is it? A chipmunk?" Yoongi and Hoseok stand next to the others when Taehyung, the tiger hybrid, walks out of the house letting out a loud sneeze as the sun hits his face causing the four of them to flinch at the sudden intrusion and Namjoon to almost drop the tiny animal.

"Why are you guys yelling? It's so ear- what is that?" He points to the small lump of fur in Namjoon's large hands. "We don't know but it's still breathing, granted the breathing is shallow but it's breathing nonetheless." Yoongi responds almost flatly, taking the tiny animal out of the wolf hybrids grasp before he could accidently crush it, bringing it up the porch steps and inside the house. 

The bunny hybrid practically leaps into Seokjin's arms with his bright bunny smile and messy bed head, rubbing against his neck. "Good morning to you too love bun, watch out I need to get to the medicine cabinet."

Seokjin pats the muscular bunny hybrid on the back before gently pushing him out of the way, laying down a clean dish towel so Yoongi could put the weak animal on it. "What's going on?" Jimin, the red panda hybrid, asks rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"It looks like a sugar glider- is it a hybrid?" Taehyung levels his eyes with the towel the panther hybrid set the animal down on. "Safe to say so, I mean, sugar gliders aren't exactly common around here and it looks pretty beat up too. But don't touch it, could have rabies or something." Yoongi mumbles his warning and the room falls silent when Seokjin comes back with a first aid kit, opening it up to clean a few cuts he could see and wiping the blood off of its fur. 

The animal squeals when the small alcohol soaked cotton bud meets the first cut but that's the only sound it makes as Seokjin backs up for a moment only to come back and finish cleaning it up. "It's so cute." Jimin coos at it gently stroking it's back with his index finger when it's eyes shoot open and it bolts forward fumbling off the marble countertop and towards the upstairs.

"Fuck! Someone grab it!" Yoongi yells as it slips through his fingers for a second time.

All seven of them scramble around the living room lurching forward to grab the slippery creature before it bolts upstairs and out of sight. "Way to go panda! What did I say? Don't. Fucking. Touch. It." Yoongi growls at the hybrid pronunciating his last sentence with authority causing Jimin's ears the flatten against the top of his head. "How was I supposed to know it would freak out like that hyung?" The panther rolls his eyes as he stalks upstairs with Namjoon and Seokjin in tow.

The three of them spend half the morning looking for the hybrid and Seokjin has to call into work for the day. Even Jimin, Taehyung and Jungkook start looking for it after being berated by the panther hybrid.

Yoongi glares at the red panda hybrid every time he crosses his path, Jimin keeps his head down his cheeks a light shade of pink, the only time Yoongi has ever looked at him like that was when he was being a little brat in bed and even then it was a little scary. "Hey guys? I think I found it."

Everyone bolts towards their shared bedroom to meet the wolf hybrid standing at the end of their bed pointing upwards to the canopy above it, they can see a small round shadow sitting in the middle. Seokjin is the last to arrive as he just got off the phone with the law firm he works at.

Looking upwards he swats the wolf hybrid away from the edge of the bed quietly calling out to the sugar glider. "Hey it's okay honey, we won't hurt you we just want to help, please come down baby." He coos in hopes his soft words will convince the animal to come down, the others gather around the bed as the small shadow shifts over to a bedpost looking over the edge for a solid minute.

"That's it sweetheart be care-" Seokjin doesn't get the chance to finish his sentence before it jumps off and lands in Jungkook's soft curly black hair between his floppy bunny ears with a thump that's barely audible. "Oh my god! Jesus fucking Christ on a stick! Warn me next time, squeak or something." Seokjin grasps his chest crumpling his dress shirt in his hand like he just had a heart attack leaning against Namjoons chest and the wolf scents the top of his head wrapping his older mate in his arms trying to calm his frayed nerves. 

"I think it likes me hyung, it's so cute! Can we keep it?" Jungkook beams with a bright smile as Taehyung attempts to lift the petrified sugar glider from his head but it grips onto Jungkook's curls tighter causing the tiger hybrid to pull his hair by association.

The bunny doesn't seem to mind probably because he's used to his long curls being pulled on. "I don't know Kookie, we have to see if it has an owner first but, for the time being I guess it's staying on your head because it doesn't seem to want to move." 

Seokjin ends up making it to work albeit few hours late but he gets there nonetheless leaving his six mates to deal with the new hybrid in the house until he can find out if it has an owner or not.

Meanwhile, at the house everything proceeds as normal well, minus the sleeping hybrid that has moved from Jungkooks curls to the hood of his jacket. "I hope Jin is able to keep the glider, it's cute and seems to like cuddling just like bun does." 

Hoseok rests his head in the palm of his hand as he watches their youngest mate play video games with Taehyung in the living room from the island in the open kitchen. "I hope it does have an owner, one less mouth to feed." Yoongi groans crossing his arms against his chest he's not exactly angry with the mysterious hybrid that just appeared in his mates rose bushes last night he's more along the lines of apprehensive for lack of a better word.

"Careful Yoons, jealousy is so not your color." Jimin chuckles patting the older hybrids leg he's been laying on in the breakfast nook for the past hour. "I'm not jealous of the damn thing, just annoyed." He growls pushing the panda off his lap and onto the hard floor.

"Hey, that hurt!" Jimin pouts crossing his own arms looking up at the panther from the cold tile floor. "Then don't say stupid shit." He quips back a small smirk forming on his lips as Jimin picks himself up off the floor and onto one of the barstools at the end of the island in the kitchen with a huff.

"Would it be so bad though? I mean granted we don't know if the hybrid is male or female but does it really matter at the end of the day? There has to be a reason you guys found it shifted into its animal form this morning." 

While that was true, hybrids didn't normally shift into their animal counterparts unless it's willingly or by copious amounts of stress on their bodies, the reason this helpless little sugar glider made it into their mates bushes either last night or early this morning was something the hybrid would have to tell them when it felt safe enough to do so and that could take anywhere from hours to weeks, maybe even months.

"We just have to show the glider it's safe here with us that's it." Namjoon chimes in shrugging his broad shoulders and making his way to the fridge for a fresh glass of orange juice pausing for a moment when Jimin tells him what Yoongi did to him just a minute ago asking the wolf kiss his elbow to make it feel better only for him to blow on it.

_____________________________

A few hours have gone by and the glider has been on full alert the entire time running around out of pure survival instincts and the once calm household turns chaotic as all hell breaks loose when the damn thing makes it to the ceiling fan a good foot or so farther off the ground than the bedpost from it's prior freak out.

"What the hell did you guys do this time?" Yoongi shouts at nobody in particular because they were all just sitting in the living room quietly watching a random youtube video when the poor thing ran out of Jungkooks hood scratching the back of his neck in the process. 

"What do you mean? We didn't do anything! It just started wigging the fuck out!" Hoseok yells back as they all stare up at the fan hoping, praying even, that the heavy breathing sugar glider doesn't fall off of the fan blade as it slowly spins around.

"Did we get too loud? Maybe that's the problem, it doesn't like loud noises." Jimin proposes as he cautiously watches the scene above him with a towel at the ready to catch the hybrid if it does end up falling.

A few more minutes go by with all six of them keeping a close eye locked onto the fan above them, even talking in hushed tones to be extra safe. Even Yoongi is internally freaking out for the safety of the glider that's practically knocking on death's door, with one slip of it's tiny paw it's a goner for sure.  

Seokjin walks through the door of his home toeing off his shoes next to the messy pile by the door, with a deep sigh he starts putting the shoes back on the rack, after he was done he barely puts his keys into the bowl on the table in front of him before he hears Namjoon yell.

"Fuck! No don't-" His sentence cut short followed by a hard thud and muffled groan which causes Seokjin to mentally say to hell with it  dropping his briefcase and coat onto the floor sprinting into the open living room to find his mates looking a little worse for wear and Jimin laying face first on the carpet with a towel stretched out in his arms, located within said towel is the ever troublesome sugar glider. 

"I thought it was going to sleep all day, what the hell happened while I was at work?" He scans the room, looking between his six mates before Yoongi angrily snaps at him, something he hasn't done since Seokjin found him in an alleyway beaten half to death all those years ago. "Your little chaos squirrel happened! It won't stop going haywire at every single loud noise! It just jumped from the ceiling fan for fuck sake Jin!" 

Yoongi yells pointing from the fan to the panda hybrid who is now sitting up curling the towel around the trembling glider. "Well I guess you'll be happy to know that she has owners who are very worried and want her home as soon as possible! No more chaos! Are you fucking happy Min Yoongi?"

Seokjin snaps using Yoongi's full government name as his eyes start to gloss over. The fact that he thought screaming at him would get anything done hurt his heart but what hurt him the most was knowing exactly who her owner is, a disgusting old man with a nasty habit of using hybrids for his own gain or worse his own perverted desires.

The house goes quiet, so quiet in fact you could hear a pin drop and it would still be too loud, the seven of them almost forgetting about the small creature tucked away in Jimin's arms. "Jin baby, I'm sor-" Seokjin raises his hand and Yoongi stops talking before he even begins, walking over to Jimin whose ears lay flat against his head with his tail wrapped tightly around his waist from all the yelling, holding onto the towel for dear life. 

"Chimmy, hand her over, she needs to go home." Seokjin holds his hands out waiting for the panda hybrid to hand the glider over to him but he refuses to release her. "Can't she stay one night? Her scent is rancid Jinnie, she's terrified and started squirming in my arms the second you mentioned her owners. Please, just one night?" Jimin all but begs at Seokjin's feet to let her stay, he didn't even know her name or her story yet the pink haired hybrid clearly wasn't ready to let her go just yet. Seokjin puts his hands on his hips with a long sigh pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Just for tonight then she goes back to her own home." He says through gritted teeth, the panda hybrids eyes light up and he opens the towel unable to hide his excitement. "Did you hear that glider? You get to stay even if it is just for tonight!" He exclaims his tone somewhat sad, though the glider hardly moves until she catches a glimpse of the bunny hybrid and his soft off white floppy ears quickly jumping from the towel and running straight up his muscular body, into his long curly hair nuzzling into the base of his ears causing him to thump his foot repeatedly on the ground, laughing happily with his big bunny smile gracing his handsome face.

Later that night after they had eaten take out from a local pizzeria and fed the glider some fruit which she happily scarfed down so fast Seokjin thought she was going to choke. They're all laying in bed quietly huddled against each other for warmth, the sugar glider is happily tucked away within Jungkooks hood once again, letting out the softest of purrs.

"Jin?" Yoongi whispers into Seokjins ear as he nuzzles his nose onto the nape of his neck, his mate doesn't reply right away and keeps his back turned to him. 

"Baby please, I said I was sorry." The panther wraps his arms around his mates middle giving him a light squeeze causing the older man to chuckle. "I know honey, it's just- I happen to know her owner-" Seokjin pauses to roll over and face Yoongi tracing shapes onto his bare chest as Yoongi's jet black tail curls around his leg.

"Her owner is a no good backstabbing motherfucker, gets what he wants how he wants jackass, overweight perverted bastard that the firm just can't seem to pin down."

Yoongi stares at him for a moment, never has he heard such colorful words to describe a human leave his gentle mates mouth in rapid succession like this, it was actually kinda hot, though he wouldn't say that out loud not at the moment anyway.

"You out of all of us should know what her home life is like with scum like him." Which of course he did know, Yoongi came from a home similar to hers, some rich fuck wanted an exotic hybrid only to use and abuse him for years until one night when he finally let his animalistic instincts take over, almost killing the man and his wife in the process which caused him to be beaten bloody by his thugs and thrown onto the streets to die. 

"I wish you would've told me that earlier." He says calmly pulling his mate closer laying his head onto his toned chest. "You didn't let me get a word in before you started yelling at me." Seokjin whispers and sheepishly looks up at the panther who is already staring down at him.

"I said I was sorry baby, please don't tell me you're still mad at me because I don't think I can take it much longer." Feigning pain rather dramatically like the tiger or coyote hybrid would have, he receives a light slap on his shoulder. "You're too serious to be this dramatic Yoons. Leave the theatrics to Hobi and Tae will you?" Yoongi flashes his gummy smile before giving his mate a rather long apologetic kiss before turning the light out behind him.

___________________________

Early the next day Seokjin wakes up to the sound of snoring rather than his shrill alarm, it was Saturday and the sun was shining right into his eyes as it rose up into the warm colored sky.

He untangles himself from both the panther and wolf hybrid who had wiggled his way against his back sometime in the night, standing to his full height and rolling out his broad shoulders he makes his way into the bathroom, brushing his teeth and his doing his skin care routine.

Once finished he walks back to the bed to take one last look at his lovers, his mates, all curled onto the bed before he leaves the room only something was different, a tuft of hair to be exact, a bright color he's not used to seeing laying in his bed cuddled into Jungkooks chest with his arms curled tightly and protectively around her shoulders under the covers.

He steps over to the opposite side of the bed and pulls the blankets back a little causing her to shiver and the soft, slightly pointed ears on top of her head to twitch at the unwelcomed cold air that hits her hot skin.

Seokjin freezes hoping he didn't just wake her up but he relaxes once more when her head turns a little giving him full view of her face. He could tell she was young no older than twenty-three maybe, her sun kissed skin held a few tiny constellations on her cheekbones, her pouty lips were dry and cracking in the corners from dehydration and her obviously once chubby cheeks were sunken in like she hadn't been able to eat anything for days, weeks maybe.

What he didn't particularly like was the flashy collar weighing heavily on her neck not only that but the marks and bruises left on what he could see of her body by who, god only knew at this point. 

Seokjin lays the blanket back over her giving the glider a forehead kiss as Jungkook absentmindedly pulls her back against his body, his snoring slowly getting louder and louder the more his subconscious pulls him back into the dreaming world. 

Ever so leisurely, as is the norm on the weekends for the seven mates, one by one they wake up after Seokjin has had his cup of coffee and is making a savory smelling breakfast in the kitchen, walking around him to make sure they didn't bump into him because the last time, Namjoon was in the kitchen he had bumped Seokjin's elbow and what was supposed to be the gravy for the biscuits he was baking in the oven turned into a new paint job for the stove and the wall behind it. 

"Is Kookie going to come down or do I need to pry him off of her?" Seokjin teases the bunny hybrid who isn't here to defend himself as Jimin is the last one besides the two still in bed to arrive at the table for breakfast.

"Probably, I mean he's stuck to her like bees on honey, I tried to wake him up but he refuses to budge an inch." Jimin replies sitting down in his respective seat between Yoongi and Taehyung. 

Seokjin places the last bowl of food onto the table taking the apron Namjoon bought for him on valentine's day last year off, hooking it next to the other five before sauntering off to the bedroom.

Seokjin quietly makes his way to the closet taking out a plain shirt, a roll of unused boxers and some sweat pants for the sugar glider hybrid to put on, only now realizing he doesn't even know her name. "How could I not think to ask that bastard her name yesterday? Stupid." 

Upon closing the closet door his gaze is met with a very skittish wide awake hybrid and to make things more awkward she was naked, clutching the duvet against her chest. The bunny hybrid nowhere within his line of sight.

Taking a deep breath he approaches her with caution because if her human form is anything like her sugar glider counterpart she will run and she will climb anything to get away from whatever or whoever came towards her. 

Her actions surprise him further when she just stares at him with wide pale blue eyes keeping track of his every move. Her eyes darting everywhere at once pausing briefly on the closed bathroom door only to land back on Seokjin.

"Hey darling, it's okay, I'm not going to hurt you, here." He sets his clean clothes onto her lap giving it a light tap. "These are for you, I'm assuming Kookie is in the bathroom?" He asks her quizzically, she opens her mouth only to close it again hesitantly nodding just as the bunny hybrid comes out of the bathroom tying his basketball shorts to fit his narrow waist.

"Morning Y/n, I'm sorry if I woke you up. Oh, good morning hyung." Jungkook smiles his big bunny-like grin before walking towards the pair on the bed giving Seokjin a kiss on the lips and Y/n a peck on the forehead a pink blush creeping onto her cheeks. "I'll see you downstairs?" Seokjin smiles at his youngest mates show of affection towards her before quickly nodding his gentle features adorning his own unique grin. 

Downstairs in the breakfast nook the rest of the hybrids are making small talk while stuffing their faces with the breakfast their mate had cooked before the bunny hybrid hopped down the stairs with a pep in his step. "What's got your tail wagging this morning Kook?"

Although his tail was nothing but a soft cotton ball on his lower back it was indeed swinging back and forth at the speed of light it seemed. "She's so beautiful hyung, she's got these beautiful pale blue eyes and her hair, oh my god."

He stops to take his seat between Hoseok and Namjoon before he starts up again as Yoongi fixes him a plate. "Not to mention her heavenly scent, she smells like a lavender field and a pine tree forest with a hint of sweet coconut."

Jungkook practically swoons over the girl leaning onto Hoseok's shoulder as he covers his chest with a wistful gleam in his eyes. "Easy there lover boy, don't go getting yourself attached just yet, she's supposed to be going back to her owners today." The panther hybrid reminds him setting his full plate down in front of him and Jungkook digs in with a slight pout.

"Not if I have anything to say about it, did you see the bruises on her? Just the solid ring around her throat alone is enough to make me hunt the bastard down myself." Taehyung interjects pointing nowhere in particular with his fork, his deep voice laced with venom when he mentions her visible abuse.

Anyone with a pair of eyeballs could see she wasn't living in a happy home like they were. "Tae come on man, you're supposed to back me up here. We all knew what was going to happen once we woke up this morning." 

Yoongi's voice, always calm and serious, waivered as those last few words fell from his lips. "I don't care, I refuse to let her go back there only to be beaten and sexually abused by that poor excuse for a human. Someone should string him up by his toes and let all the blood rush to his head until he passes out or better yet, dies."

Though his out of pocket comment was oddly dark for the otherwise cheery hybrid, his feelings were mostly shared by the other five sitting at the table.

Seokjin arrives at the table finally able to put his ass in a chair for the first time this morning, shifting it forward to make himself a plate. "So? What's the verdict?" Yoongi deadpans not letting his only older mate take a bite of his food quite yet.

"I can't- I mean- just looking at her skin ruined by those dark purple bruises and cuts- not to mention that gaudy choker around her neck." He scoffs remembering how only moments ago exactly how difficult it was to convince her to take the son of a bitch off just to take a shower. 

"It's been so long since she's taken it off that it's caused an angry rash to form around her throat for fuck sake." He angrily throws the spoon back into the bowl and sits back in his chair with a thud, his mates catching his scent of stale bubblegum and burning vanilla sticks coming off of him in waves.

"I am not letting her go back to that place." He pauses briefly to take a bite of his lukewarm potatoes. "No chance in hell am I going to hand her over to her abuser when I can just as easily take him down in the courtroom if he so much as blinks in my general direction."

Seokjin can't growl like his mates but if they had to guess, it would sound like someone revving a diesel engine continuously, low and guttural if he could. 

The loud laughter rings throughout the house, floating through the air and quite infectious if Y/n had anything to say about it. "Funny bunny." Her voice is rough and hoarse but that doesn't stop her from giggling at the hybrid who had his chopsticks stuck in his mouth like a walrus making ungodly noises.

The seven of them turn their heads with wide eyes to face her completely bewildered by her small gravelly voice and smiling at her short frame standing with her little feet turned inwards, she was wearing the pair of boxers Seokjin had given her, they squeeze the top of her thick thighs with the shirt she was given hanging just below her chubby little stomach but it was all covered by Jungkooks hoodie that she had spent the night in. 

Her hair was long, bright and beautiful, her pale blue almost silver eyes shone brightly compared to her black glider eyes. "Morning sugar, we saved you a plate. Here take my seat and eat something, please?"

Y/n's head snaps in the direction of the coyote hybrid who is now standing behind his chair with his empty plate replaced by hers, she tries to hide away from the predator hybrid by running behind the kitchen island and sitting on the floor.

Jungkook stands from his seat, taking the chopsticks out of his mouth and rounding the kitchen island, kneeling beside her. "Hey baby it's okay, they're not going to hurt you. They just want to take care of you and I promise you they do a good job too, I mean look at me."

The bunny points to himself puffing his chest out with pride. "I couldn't be more than well taken care of now, do you want to sit next to me?" Jungkook flashes his bunny smile offering the skittish hybrid his hand in hopes she'll come out of her little hiding spot behind the counter. Y/n timidly looks between him and his tattooed hand a few times before she takes it and stands up waddling her way behind Jungkook over to the table where his six mates were waiting.

[bamboozledbird]

his eyes, his mouth // stiles stilinski imagine

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Void!Stiles, fem!reader (she/her pronouns) Pairing: not actually unrequited Stiles x fem!reader Word Count: 2.5k Warnings: canon typical gore/violence, choking, non-con touching/kissing (nothing worse than the show), emetophobia (mentions, no details)  Tags: author is horny for classic lit and bad at titles and it shows Summary: Reader accepts Void's invitation to play even though she knows she's already lost. A/N: I'm on my teen wolf bullshit again icb. This is a rewrite of an old work of mine from 2014, and I did it for entirely selfish purposes. I need Void now, and my other work is in s1 smh.

The first time she saw brown eyes it was in her mother’s face, skin glistening with the sweat of labor and the adoration of motherhood. For a long time, she thought she’d never see eyes that full of feeling again—like a never-ending tree ring, like reeds taking root—and then, in the second grade, she met a boy with the round, brown eyes of a fawn. She helped him read without skipping over lines, he helped her make sense of fractions, and she stared at his eyes until it was time to go home. Over the years, she memorized every crack of amber and drizzle of honey until the sky was just a cloak of him, him, him. 

It was the eyes that gave Void away. He could replicate Stiles’s smile, the curl of his smirk, the pucker of his confusion—but the eyes. He couldn’t quite hide the hollowness, even when her own were shut tight.

She kept them closed now. Under the starless sky, she could only make out the vague shapes of deadening trees; it was easier to follow the ink-dipped path with her hands. Her fingers brushed against damp moss and sticky bark until she stumbled over a loose rock. The stone rolled into something solid, and the resounding thud sent her heart into her throat. Everything seemed to be a little more than it was out here in the dark—the shapes bigger, the sounds louder, the fear thicker—everything except for her. Like this, she was a scared little girl. Frantic. Small. Alone. 

She didn’t realize quite how small she was until she was enveloped with darkness, how small and how pathetically human—but here she was anyway: alone in the woods, blinded by the darkness of early morning, on her merry way to meet an immortal psychopath with an entire Japanese spirit army at his disposal. All this, simply because he told her to.

She’d known the text was from Stiles’s number before she even pulled her phone out from under her sleep-rumpled pillow. She knew because it was three in the morning. It seemed like he only ever needed her at three or five in the morning, and yet she always, always answered. She’d realized quickly, however, that this time it was Stiles’s number but it wasn’t his message. 

< Stiles 🤓☝️: > 

I know you always found Stiles so easily, but why don’t we see who’s the better hider? I’ll play fair this time, cross Stiles’s heart. I’ll even give you a hint:  The cock crew, The sky was blue: The bells in heaven Were striking eleven. ‘Tis time for this poor soul To go to heaven. In case you’re thinking about not showing up, you should probably know the consequences. At the risk of sounding melodramatic, if you don’t come out and play with me, I’ll have to take out one of your pieces, and your family is just so deliciously human. I’m afraid it would be permanent. 

The riddle wasn’t actually a riddle, and that was the entire point: both the author’s and Void’s. The only reason she knew the answer was because she loved James Joyce. Stiles knew that, so, of course, Void did too. He also knew that she’d know exactly which holly bush to stumble towards in the dark.

She reached the perimeter of a small clearing; the smell of pine and earth layered over the trickle of a shallow rivulet was achingly familiar. Tilting her head, she inched into the open area, wary of its uncanny resemblance to a stage, and came to a stop in front of a large stump nestled between thickets of holly. Even in the dark, her fingers found the clumsy letters chipped into wood by small, marshmallow-sticky hands. 

He had Stiles’s phone, but he hadn’t bothered with the usual needlessly complex charade. She could only assume that meant that this was the trick and she was the punchline.

“The fox burying his grandmother under a hollybush,” she broke the disquieting silence when the fine hairs on the back of her neck prickled like a rabbit that knew it was about to die. She’d heard a rabbit scream once; nothing ever sounded quite so terrible until she heard Stiles wake up from one of his nightmares. “Clever, but I’m a little young to be your grandma. Aren’t you, like, a zillion years old?” 

The Nogitsune exhaled against the knobs of her spine, his breath revoltingly warm and wet, “You could’ve let me have my dramatic entrance. I ask for so little.”

She pretended that her stomach was not churning and that she was not dying from this, “Sorry, next time a psycho killer asks me out, I’ll know better.” 

He clicked his tongue and slipped his hand over her shoulder, twisting a strand of her hair around his finger in slow, methodical twirls. “You really need to learn to mind your manners, baby; someday that lip of yours is going to get you into trouble,” he chided, mouth resting against the shell of her ear. 

She repressed a shudder and pulled his hand away from her by his wrist. He went surprisingly easy, delicate bones limp in her fingers. For a moment, she just gripped his clammy skin, digging her nails into pale flesh, waiting for him to do something. He didn’t. Void just sighed in her ear and hummed, “I know, baby. It’s just the moon, right? And the stars, and your favorite author in your favorite place with your favorite person—and they say romance is dead.”

It was the audible intake of breath as he smelled the jasmine and honeysuckle in her hair that finally cut through the heady haze swathed around her. She turned around and let go of his arm with a sharp push that sent her stumbling back a few steps. Void narrowed his eyes at her, and his slow smile made her sick, “Did I ruin it? C’mon, I gave you a hint; you tell me what he’d say if he were here.”

 "Is this really why you made me get out of bed at 3:00 am? To roleplay?” she sounded much braver than she felt. 

Void grinned again, all teeth and bad intentions, and she thought of the way Stiles’s eyes looked with his smirk wrapped around her straw as he stole a sip from her cup. It was more vanilla creamer than coffee, and his cheeks had hollowed from the sickening sweetness. She’d wanted to kiss him then for the same reason she wanted to climb on every sculpture that read, ‘look, but do not touch.’ Had that really only been a month ago?

Void slunk forward, agile and lithe like a big cat, and the flash of his smile in the dim light was a scalpel against her throat, “Maybe. Isn’t that why you came to find me in the middle of the night?” He stopped a few inches in front of her and canted his head, “All alone, no wolves or hunters to interrupt us, even though I didn’t tell you to keep it to yourself. You did that all on your own, baby. Such a good girl.” 

His jaw softened slightly, and he rounded his eyes into a twisted mask of pity. He must’ve been able to hear her heart bruising against her ribs; she could feel the echo vibrating her stapes. Her lips parted, but her mouth went cottony when his hand trailed over her collarbone and came to a stop along the slender slope of her throat. “It’s just us now; you can tell me,” his voice was gentle, almost a coo, as his fingers squeezed slightly, thumb pressing into her carotid. “You can pretend it’s him. I won’t mind.” 

“You’d get off on that, huh,” she was horrified to realize that her voice was wet and thick, completely wrecked, like she’d been crying for hours. Void’s eyes, dark and endless, flickered over her face as he sucked in a breath through his teeth—savoring her misery. “Knowing how much I want him—how much I hate you.”

His grip around her neck tightened briefly, but he relaxed his joints after a shallow exhale, struggling to pace himself. Overindulgence, she mused, that was probably his only weakness. “Don’t be like that, baby,” he smoothed his thumb over her pulse and grinned manically when it rabbited under his touch, “you’d get something too, and we both know this is the only way you’re gonna get it.” His wistful sigh stirred the soft hairs framing her face. “The boy doesn’t have much taste, I’m afraid, but I have to admit in this case,” Void’s gaze darted from her panting mouth to her heaving chest as she struggled for meager mouthfuls of air, “it’s worked out splendidly for me.” 

If she could just stop seeing blurry splotches for a moment, maybe she could think of something to do other than gape at him like a fucking fish. At least, she couldn’t quite make out the lines and curves of Stiles’s stolen face like this. He would be so disappointed; the thought struck her in the stomach, and she might have gagged if her trachea had the space for it. He would be so disappointed that she’d been stupid enough to traipse into the forest to play house with a demonic spirit without backup. How? How could you be so fucking stupid? She could hear Stiles screaming at her in her head, almost felt his long fingers pinching her biceps as he tried to shake the stupid out of her. Not how, Stiles. Why. But she could never tell him the why; the why was possibly even more foolish than following the devil in the dark. At the very least, it was infinitely more cliché and endlessly more pathetic.

“I knew you were going to be my favorite.” She felt the words more than she heard them. Void’s dry lips brushed over her cheek, and then he dragged his mouth towards her jaw, more like a taste than a kiss, “I knew you’d be fucking exquisite.” 

Her vision narrowed into pinpricks as his mouth crowded over hers, and with her last grasp of consciousness, she bit down on his lip. Hard. She fell to the ground with the coppery tang of blood on her tongue. Like pennies, she thought faintly as she watched honied amber eyes swim in the night sky, tastes like pennies. 

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

When she finally woke up, she immediately wished she hadn’t. Her throat was rubbed raw with pain, and the left side of her body was sore to the bone. She hissed as she accidentally pressed into a blooming bruise just over her hip. It took her a moment to hone in on the ratty velvet couch and concrete floor: Derek’s loft, then. That was good. If she were dead, she would’ve picked just about anywhere else as the backdrop for her afterlife. 

“You’re awake.” Stiles’s voice was flat, but his eyes were his and only his. 

Her fingers skittered away from her skin to grab at the thin blanket draped over her legs, “Jesus fuckin’ Christ. Knock much?”

He didn’t look amused; he didn’t even roll his eyes. She had only seen Stiles well and truly angry a few times in her life and never at her. Heat sparked along her spinal column, and no matter how many times she swallowed her throat stayed dry. 

“Look…” she cleared her throat and bit down on her bottom lip, wincing as pain sliced through the flesh—it was split open. When the hell had that happened? Frowning, she licked away the small trickle of blood from the reopened cut and slowly pushed herself up into a sitting position, “I know what you’re thinking. You’re probably, like, five seconds away from laying into me with a hyperbole-heavy lecture, but can you just save it until I’ve taken a few painkillers and iced my fuckin’ knee. Much appresh.” 

“You have no fucking idea what I’m thinking,” his tone was even, almost numb, but his eyes—his eyes gave him away. The amber was molten, and her head swam with the desire to burn in it. 

Her leg jittered. “So,” the heel of her foot tapped against the stone floor, shooting aching jolts up her leg to her slightly swollen kneecap, “you aren’t thinking that I’m at least three levels above Jar Jar on the dumbassery scale? Like, it’s Jar Jar, Nedry, Condiment King, Goku, then me.” Her calf throbbed as she rolled her ankle and then pushed her foot up onto the toe of her muddy sneaker, trying to bounce silently. Stiles clocked it immediately. Of course, he did. It was his move.

Sighing, Stiles knelt down so that he wasn’t looming over her anymore and squeezed her unbruised knee until her foot slowed to a stop. “You know it goes: Nedry, Condiment King, you, Goku, and then Jar Jar," he ended his sentence with his hand hovering a few centimeters above your nose.

“Thank god.” The corner of her mouth wobbled as she tried to smile, “I think I hit my head on the way down, though. Possibly lost a few brain cells.”

Stiles winced, and the couch dipped with his weight as he sat down. His thigh was warm against hers. “Let me see,” he gently parted her hair, long fingers gently searching for any blood or bumps. She couldn't help but notice his mouth when he was this close; it was puffy and pink, most likely from using it as a chew toy while pacing a hole in the floor. She was frozen, paralyzed with wanting.

Her chest stuttered as her breath hitched. “You’re supposed to say somethin’ like, ‘Oh no, you didn’t have that many to begin with,’ or, ‘What will your other one have to fight with now,’” her voice was high and breathy, but she hoped he’d just write it off as pain or being slightly-concussed. 

Stiles managed a weak smile until he accidentally pressed into a tender spot on the side of her head. She sucked in sharply, air whooshing between her teeth, and he immediately reached for her with his other hand. Like it was instinct. Like it was the only thing he knew. Stiles threaded their fingers together and squeezed as he carefully brushed the pad of his thumb over the same spot on her scalp, “There?”

“Mhm,” she was breathless, grateful he was intensely focused on the shallow cut just above her ear so that he couldn't see the wild look in her eyes.

“What did he…” Stiles licked over his teeth, grimacing, and stared at the pronounced veins in his pale wrist, “what did he say when he…had you…like that?” The words sounded painful, like barbed wire raking over his tongue. He couldn’t look at her; she wasn’t sure she wanted him to.

“Oh you know,” she hoped he couldn’t feel her heartbeat where his fingers were pressed against her skull, “the usual maniacal, narcissistic rambling.” She lowered her voice to a gravelly pitch even though it tugged at her bruised windpipe, “‘I’m what killed the dinosaurs. I’m inevitable.’ All the final boss monologuing clichés.” 

Stiles searched her face for something. She smiled a little, and his responding smile was just as small, just as tired, but he seemed satisfied with her expression. He sat back and withdrew his hand from her hair, but he kept his thigh needlessly close to feel the warmth, the blood flow, the undeniable proof that she was here. “He Thanosed you?” Stiles arched a brow and dropped his arm over the back of the couch behind her head—close, but never close enough. Always a few inches away from where she wanted him.

“He did live in your head for a while there,” she sighed softly and drooped a bit into his side, chasing his body heat like a cat, curling in on him like a comma. 

Stiles hummed a little in recognition, drumming his fingers in a soft pitter-patter just behind her shoulder. “And that’s everything? He didn’t…that’s it?” 

She looked over at him. His jaw was tight and so were the tendons in his neck as he bit at his raw cuticles, on the verge of shaking or puking. His cheek fit perfectly in her palm, and she wanted him so badly she might split in two, “That’s it.”

[m0chisenpai]

Could I request a sully family x black!human (adopted) reader where they all arrive at the Metkayina reefs?

Avatar way of Water

Sully Family x black!human reader, slight!platonic!Ronal x reader

Is this the official/unofficial tart of aunty Ronal? Perhaps it is. I just love how Goldilocks!Reader is capturing the hearts of everyone around her like infinity stones.

You and your family have flown for what felt like hours. The wind prickles your back with icey pinches that the swaddle blanket neytiri has created to press against you. Your mother scolded you heatedly when she began to notice how your eyes faltered and you nearly fell from the side of your own ikran that flew faithfully beside you all. And so your mother took you unto her own and depressed you into the warmth of her embrace. 

You recall having seen the Metkayina leaders once before. Tonowari terrified you to no end with how much larger he was than you and his tattoos. But his gentle words eased you somewhat. It was Ronal whom, once again, to Jake’s surprise you instantly found a fondness with. 

The woman eyed you with distaste when she saw the great Toruk Makto had a human child living with him. He will never forget the day and laughs at the blind bravery you showed in your childhood.

Your big brown eyes looked up at the scowling woman and you tilted your head before finally speaking up, “a tsahik with such beauty should not scowl like that.” Tonwari choked back the laugh that bubbled in his throat and Jake immediately took your shoulder into his palm ready to release a tongue lashing until Ronal knelt in front to meet you at eye level. Her lips move up slightly into the smallest smile.

“This child will be a mighty tsahik one day.”

“My Y/N, wake up” Neytiri shakes your body and with bleary eyes you are met with blinding blue beaches and sand with the Metkayina people whispering as you and your family slide off of your ikrans. You gravitate toward Neytiri feeling grounded b how her tail unintentionally wraps itself around you as you press yourself into her side

“They bring a human child with them?” 

“This one dresses like us.” 

Your head goes to dip down as you step beside your mother but you feel her hand rest on your back and you look up to meet her steely gaze. “What have I taught you?” And so you set your gaze and tilt your head up high as you step beside your father. Taking your place as the eldest daughter, the first born to Toruk Makto.

You are met with Ronal and Tonwari once again. Her distaste she shamelessly displays as your father asks for shelter. She snatches your brother's hands into her own and holds them high, circles and prods your siblings as she lists weakness after weakness. Their five fingers, their lanky stature. Yet when she stops on your you hold her gaze and told your head. “And they bring our own enemies here to our tribe!”

“No, please she is no-!”

“And who is to say her real parents will not come for the child? Who's to say they are not tracking her to our home where they will lay waste to our tribe!”

And you feel your heart thud against your ribs and your throat close up as your mother is quick to pull you by your shoulders into her body. “My daughter has been through enough. She is a sister, a daughter of the tribe.”

Ronal narrows her eyes as comes closer to her and just loud enough for her and you to hear whispers, “she is no child or sister of mine. You would take in the very people who destroyed our homes? Your family?” Her eyes cut down to you. And you gulp as you hold her gaze stepping out of your mothers hold. 

“What say you, human?” A pin could drop with the silence that falls. The ocean waves crash gently behind you, you feel your families eyes on you from both sides. Here your brothers whisper your name as you forward.

“With all due respect, tsahik Ronal," she tilts her head, her eyes narrow as your voice rings strong “mo tsahik with such beauty, should hold such distaste.” A beat passes and confusion settles in her face. Then her brows rise in surprise as her hands cup your cheeks to further examine you.

“My future tsahik...” she whispers tilting your head from side to side. Oh how you have grown. While still much shorter to her, your time in the forest has given you a strong lanky figure, your hair is much longer to your shoulder blades and still clad in those beads. She thumbs your cheeks, traced and painted in beautiful blue swirls that trail down your face. 

She smirks, “just like your mother. You have grown child.” She releases the hold on your face and with great authority speaks to the people. “You will treat Toruk Makto and his family with respect. They will be like new babes as they learn our ways. The way of the water. Toruk Makto’s first born shall be under me, learning the ways of the tsahik from this day forward.” 

And Jake smiles as he looks down upon his daughter lying his hand on your shoulder. “That’s my girl.”

[wreckedandpolemic]

she's got a boyfriend anyway - matty healy

part iii - if we're gonna do anything...

(mdni) hahahahaha... heyyy... been a while huh?

warnings: 18+, drug use, unprotected sex, cheating

Being home is suffocating you. You love your hometown, really, you do, but you’ve gotten so used to reaching out and grasping a starless London night that the stickers on your ceiling feel mocking. Like you’ve stepped back into the body of the girl whose room this used to be, and her skin is two sizes too small. Every time your mother reprimands you for being out late, or swearing, or smoking, you remind yourself that you’re five minutes closer to being back in London, hundreds of miles away and outside your family’s sphere of control. 

Being with Matty is different, though. He tugs you out of that too-tight skin, leaves you loose-limbed and free. You tell him as much, laying back against his wrinkled, black sheets, a joint burning down between his fingers and smoke hanging in the air. His answering smile is gorgeous, big and bright and a little dopey from the weed. A slow song you can’t pin down crackles from his vintage record player. “Shotgun?” he offers, and you grin, straddling him as he fills his lungs with smoke. Your lips hover over his, your hair falling in a curtain around your faces, shrouding you in fitting secret. He blows the smoke into your waiting mouth and you inhale greedily, certain a faint taste of him lingers in your lungs. You lift your head to exhale, blowing rings just to show off.

He stubs the joint out on his bedframe and flings the roach into the corner of his room, planting both his hands firmly on your hips. You’re crossing that line again; your feet have swept across it so many times since you came home that it’s faded from an all-encompassing warning bell to a faint, familiar tick. You press a kiss to his lips, savouring his responding giggle, your high wrapping the pair of you in a blanket that muffles the outside world. His arms snake around your back, tracing soothing circles over your skin. You relax into his chest, the warmth of his skin soaking into yours. Time drips over you like honey and you don’t know how long you lay like that, relaxed in his embrace.

“You’re so pretty,” he murmurs absently, petting your hair.

You kiss his chest softly, praise spinning in your slow-moving mind like a coin set on its edge. “Flatterer,” you reply, his gaze kindling a spark in your chest. The album ends, the last notes hanging in the air for a moment before fading away. The silence is tender, pleasant. Matty shifts, freeing his arm from under you and you whine, clinging feebly onto him as he rolls off the bed.

You watch him pick his way across his messy room to where his guitar leans against his bookshelf, smiling softly when he picks it up. He sits cross-legged, back against the wall, cradling the guitar lovingly in his lap. He strums idly, chords humming sweetly in the warm air and washing comfortably over you. “Mind if I play you something, love?”

“Please,” you reply, sitting up so you can see him properly. He teases a few more notes from the strings, then sings along in a low, quiet voice. You’re a little too stoned to process the individual words, but you know intrinsically that he’s singing to you, for you, about you. A solid lump of emotion rises in your throat, your cotton-mouth too dry to swallow it back down.

The song ends after some indeterminate amount of time, its linear passage having escaped you long ago. “D’you like it?” he asks, and you nod. It’s just about the loveliest thing you’ve ever heard; the romance of this tortured artist so dichotomous from what you’re used to. “Good,” he says shortly. “‘Cause otherwise that would’ve been well embarrassing.” Turning to start another record, he takes a deep breath and exhales shakily, unfamiliarly and uncharacteristically nervous. “This isn’t, um… We’re having fun, right?”

You tilt your head at him, hazy brain preventing you from reading his tone. “Yeah. ‘Course we are.” You turn a sleazy, charming grin on him, one you realise you learned from him. “Why?”

He smiles at you, a sweet, lovely thing, a far cry from the filthy, teasing smirks you’re used to. “I just…” He shakes his head as you fascinate yourself twirling a strand of hair around your finger. “Never mind. You’re so stoned.” He huffs a fond laugh and props the guitar back up against the bookshelf.

A dazed laugh bubbles up out of your throat. “Yep,” You pop the ‘p’ loudly, smacking your lips so the noise repeats over and over. “Fuck, your shit is so strong. I feel like my bones are glue. Does that make sense?”

He crawls back up the bed next to you, slipping a hand under your shirt to stroke fond circles into your skin. “No,” he laughs. “But you’re cute,” he adds.

“So are you,” you say, poking the tip of his nose and dissolving into a fit of giggles at the way his face scrunches in response. He kisses you lazily, tongue sweeping your mouth in slow, languid strokes; he kisses you just to kiss you, running his fingers through your hair and smiling against your mouth.

Time passes, your head clears, the platter spins and the sun sinks lower in the sky. It’s dusk by the time you peel yourself out of Matty’s bed and shrug your jacket back on. You’re regretful, gathering your things slowly, casting doleful looks at the warmth of his bed as you inch toward the door. “Just stay, love,” Matty tells you, grinning at the relief on your face.

You don’t bother double-checking, just dropping your bag and jacket and falling back into bed with him. “Thank you, darling,” you grin, pressing your lips against his just to feel them warm on your skin. “You and me, alone together in bed all night… whatever will we get up to?” you tease, hands wandering over his chest playfully.

“I have a few ideas,” he smirks, hand roaming down to your ass and squeezing. You tug his shirt off his body, kissing your way down his bare chest. His hand catches yours as you go to unbutton his jeans and you look up at him curiously before pressing a palm against his clothed dick. “C’mon, love. We’ve got all night. Right now, I wanna make you feel so good you forget his fucking name.”

Your thighs clench at his words; the possessiveness in his tone grips you. “Fuck, Matty,” you whine, sudden heat flooding your body and pooling at your core. “Off, off, now,” you whine, yanking off his jeans and boxers in one motion and wrapping your hand around his hardening cock. It’s almost a reversal of last time; in Matty’s room, now, his skin bare while you’re clothed. Slowly, you pump his cock again, relishing the way his hips twitch under your touch.

You kick off your own jeans and crawl back up the bed, leaning towards Matty as he roams his hands down to the hem of your shirt and pulls it over your head. Deft fingers work at the clasp of your bra and pinch your nipple as you slip the fabric off your body. “So fucking gorgeous,” he murmurs, gazing intently at your bare tits.

Sitting up, Matty climbs on top of you, kissing you hard and tracing a finger over the outside of your panties. A shiver runs through you and you grind against his hand, the fabric of your underwear scraping deliciously over your clit. You slide down the pillows so the pair of you are horizontal, looking up and losing yourself for a second in Matty’s big, brown eyes, liquid pools of fathomless desire. He tugs your panties down your legs, rubbing slow circles into your clit and swallowing your responding moan with a kiss. “Shit, Matty, come on,” you whine, rolling your hips against him.

“We have all night, love. Don't you wanna take it slow?” he murmurs, speeding up his motions at your clit. Liquid pleasure drips down your spine, blooming hot in your veins. A whine falls from your lips as he slips a finger into you, your cunt clenching desperately around him as he sets a torturously slow rhythm.

You groan. He’s so devoted to dragging everything out, insisting on toying with every encounter; you’re aching for it already. “No,” you retort. “Shut up and fuck me.” Weak bursts of heat rattle through you, insufficient, ramping up your desire as you kiss Matty desperately.

“So impatient,” he tuts, brushing a strand of hair away from your face and dropping his head to kiss your neck. “How do you want it?” he murmurs against your skin. Your stomach clenches at his words, unused to the care he takes with you, his lips reverent on your skin, awaiting your cue.

“Fast,” you gasp, a breathy moan falling from your lips as he slides another finger into you, the stretch between your thighs burning deliciously. “Hard,” you add, reaching down and wrapping a hand around his cock. “Come on, Matty, wanna come on your cock so bad,” His dick twitches in your palm and his jaw goes slack, desire burning in his gaze.

Matty pulls his fingers out of you, drawing them into his mouth and sucking your arousal off his skin. “Open up, love,” he instructs, spitting in your mouth when you drop your jaw for him. You swallow obediently, the taste of you sliding down your throat deliciously. Climbing off you, he lines his cock up with your entrance, teasing. “You ready?”

Nodding wildly, you clench your cunt and roll your hips, chasing the pleasure he holds just out of your reach. “Fuck me, please,” you whine, tangling a hand in his hair and tugging harshly, relishing the soft whimper he lets out. Finally, Matty enters you, the stretch divine in your cunt. He gasps as you clench around him, coaxing him deeper. “Harder,” you beg, digging your nails into his back and matching his thrusts with your hips to force him deeper into you.

“Whatever you want, love,” he grins. “Gotta give it to you just the way you want it before your little boyfriend gets his pathetic hands on you again,” he promises, the flash of guilt at the reminder of your sin indetectable against the waves of sweet bliss rolling over you. He sets a brutal pace, fucking into you wildly. Your pulse thrums in your cunt, cries falling from your lips as he thrusts impossibly deep into you.

“Shh, not so loud, sweetheart,” Matty murmurs against your lips, sliding two fingers into your mouth to muffle your moans. Your head spins, drunk on him, liquid heat coiling in your veins and melting you in his hands. Euphoria pools in your belly, blood pumping faster and faster, your hips meeting slick and sweet. “That feel good?” You nod fervently, incoherent whines falling from your lips.

You writhe under him. “Matty,” you whine. “Matty, please, fuck–” you gasp, voice breaking on the last syllable as he strikes oh-so-perfectly inside you. “Oh, God,” you cry, digging your nails into his shoulders hard enough to puncture skin. His hand comes down to tease at your clit, callused fingers deliciously rough against your swollen nerves. “Matty, please, please, please,” you whine, hips jolting involuntarily to chase the sweet, sharp bursts of pleasure that ricochet through you.

“Are you close, love?” he asks, his pace stuttering as his control slips.

“Yeah, fuck,” you murmur between soft moans. Matty redoubles his efforts, pressure mounting between your legs, coiling tighter and tighter as you cling to him, lips meeting in a messy imitation of a kiss. He strikes your clit just right, and you scream, heat racing through your blood and sparks exploding behind your eyelids. Euphoria burns you from the inside out, your cunt clenching around him desperately. A pained whine escapes you as he pulls out of you, spilling across your stomach with a groan. Your chest heaves as you gasp for breath, coasting on your high. Matty collapses next to you, breathing hard, and grins over at you wickedly.

Matching his grin, you drag a finger through the mess on your belly and suck it off, swirling your tongue around your finger exaggeratedly. Matty snatches your hand away and kisses you deeply. “Are you trying to drive me crazy?”

“Yes,” you giggle against his mouth. “Is it working?” He nods almost imperceptibly, something intense shining in his eyes that you don’t quite want to understand. You cast your gaze anywhere else, and he clears his throat sheepishly. “I’m, uh, gonna go get cleaned up,” you say, wincing at the cliche as you pad into his bathroom.

Whatever lingering awkwardness you might’ve feared has dissipated by the time you return, cocking your head quizzically at his pose; propped up against the headboard, arms behind his head. “About that blowjob… What?” he complains as you burst into laughter. “No, I’m sorry,” he says, laughing. “I heard it as soon as I said it.” You climb back into bed next to him, resting your head on his bare shoulder.

Kissing at his neck, you taste the light sheen of sweat on his skin. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” you tease, climbing over him and settling between his legs. “And that I’m generous.”

The sound of your phone clattering to the floor startles you awake. Blinking blearily, you comb a hand through your sleep-tangled hair. Twelve missed calls from your mum, three from your dad and… oh shit, seventeen from your boyfriend. “Matty,” you hiss, slapping his leg frantically from your position on the floor. “Matty!”

“Huh, what?” he murmurs groggily, stirring to peer down at you from the bed.

“I forgot Michael was coming up from London this morning!” you gasp, frantically hunting for your clothes, the enormity of the last few days suddenly in shocking clarity. Your phone buzzes at your feet as you wrestle with your bra, fingers shaking too much to close the clasps. The caller ID flashes his name, and you draw a trembling breath.

“Want some help?” Matty teases, and despite yourself, you do. You nod despairingly, his warm hands at your back a comfort even now. “It’ll be okay, love,” he murmurs, pressing a gentle kiss to the nape of your neck. His touch warms you through, your body melting instinctively against his. God. You are well and truly fucked.

[redclercs]

DELICATE✰ CHARLES LECLERC.

iii. one for the money, two for the show.

— the one where you were never ready, so you watched him go.

warnings: war flashbacks to the miami gp, more insight into y/n (look i have to give a lot of context for my own sanity), not really proofread sorry, 2.4k words.

masterlist ✢ next

FROM “WHAT’S NEXT FOR AIDAN KIM?” POSTED IN THE US WEEKLY YOUTUBE CHANNEL MAY 2023

You are looking at the top comments.

aidanbabes nooo my baby😭 he looks so sad!

flowerbedkim I swear to god y/n better count her fucking days

halleyc don’t come at me but this sounds like he proposed

ynbby why is he talking about this though? y/n has been super private and he’s telling US WEEKLY THIS?

ynaidan i hate being a child of divorce😭

Miami, Florida May 6th

GRAND Prix number two with Elix, attempt number two by Mr. Stuart Schafer to get into your pants. Can it get any worse?

Yes, yes it can. Because as long as you have “a job” you don’t have to come to these sponsor events. Which sucks for you, not having an acting job for the moment has never felt more like a punishment from the universe.

Artists, from actors to singers are here promoting their gigs while all you do, again, is take pictures with men in jeans and loafers and try not to barf every time you consume Elix.

You’re watching your career crumble in front of your eyes and you can’t do anything to save it from burning when it hits the floor. Mildred has called you several times during the course of the weekend to inform you of canceled interviews, revoked invitations and “sorry we’re just looking for something else” calls from casting agents.

Part of you is in disbelief that a five minute interview from your ex-boyfriend is feeding the fire, part of you expected it all the same. Women are the preferred villain in the narrative, and if it means putting a man above them, the media has had the choice made for a while.

Did you really have it coming, though? There have been endless comments about how it was about time people realized the type of person you are.

But what are you? Who are you really?

You’re a coward. You tell that to yourself in the mirror first thing in the morning.

Many people have the luxury to say they can’t pinpoint the exact moment where they went wrong. You can’t afford the pleasure of such obliviousness, because the exact moment everything went wrong was when Aidan got down on one knee.

And when the question that left his lips went from "Will you marry me?" to "Why won't you?" You knew there was no turning back.

Marriage wasn’t a foreign concept to you, but while it is generally seen as a milestone, for you it was just another stepping stone. The roles of The Wife and The Mother were something you might eventually grow into, but on the night of your third anniversary, you realized you weren't even ready for that of The Fiancée.

Was it genuinely a surprise for Aidan that you had to close the velvet box he was holding in front of you, hiding the diamond ring from your sight, before he dropped his other knee to the ground and whispered 'Why?'

Never, in the three years you'd been together, had you seriously talked about marriage. It was another bridge you would cross once you got there, and in your mistaken calculations, you thought it would be around the time your relationship turned five. That's the limit for romantic relationships without a ring involved according to most women's magazines, and your own mom. At least neither know the ring was the cause of the breakup.

It's a little pathetic how lucky you consider yourself that the tabloids don't know you rejected an engagement. They're cruel enough as it is, things can only go further downhill, straight to hell.

"You good?"

Your best friend in the world, Victoria Presley, is able to join you in the VIP area of the Paddock thanks to a couple pictures on instagram where she tagged Elix. God bless the era of influencers. Or, family connections. Being the daughter of Sony Music executive Luke Presley and celebrity life coach Claire Walker can open many doors. Well it isn't Vic's fault being born into a rich and influential family, at least she's doing her own thing with her beauty products.

"Yes, I am," you shrug. Q3 is going on right now and although you try your best to keep your focus on the two red cars around the circuit, you find it hard to get out of your head. Plus it's so hot in here you feel sticky and gross.

"I lost you for a moment there," she insists, sipping her glass of champagne, the eyebrow raise she gives you after means she needs more info into what was going through your head just seconds ago.

"Not getting any call backs right now," you sigh, taking the flute from her although all it would take for you to get your own is a few steps. "I'm kind of frustrated."

"I'm sorry babe," Vic rubs your back, unbothered by your stealing. "You'll get something soon."

"And E! cancelled my interview, AND—"

Tires screech and an 'ooooh' goes through the grand stands before the screens show a red car embedded in the barriers. A groan of "It's Leclerc!" passes through the people around you in the VIP Lounge.

You grimace, focused on the circuit again as Charles leaves his car, shaking his arms before hitting the halo several times, frustrated.

"See everyone has bad streaks," Vic has gotten her own champagne again and is pointing to the screen, where the Ferrari driver is being followed on his way out. "It's his second crash, no?"

Other people's disgrace doesn't soothe your own, so you give Vic a stern look, causing her to shrug.

Q3 is done and Ferrari has mixed feelings about their two drivers' results. As for you, the faster you can get back to your hotel, the better.

─────────

Vic drags you to dinner with a couple of her influencer friends. Everyone and their mother is in attendance at Miami, and they’re here to have fun.

"They're here!" the girl to Vic's left whisper-yells, stretching her neck to look over at the entrance of the restaurant.

The place has been completely full the whole time you've been here, which has been a while, you're done with your dinner and have a few drinks on you, yet Vic has begged you twice to stay 'just a little longer'.

Of course Vic is having the time of her life, talking about promotion agreements and posting schedules, and although you hang out with lots of influencers and social media stars on your daily life, you're not clicking with any of them tonight. Have you become bitter? No, of course not.

"y/n knows them, she can just introduce us," another one giggles, and she cheers with her tequila sunrise to your own half-empty drink that's resting on the table.

"Hmm, what?" you chuckle, unsure of how you missed the part where you entered the story.

"The Ferrari Drivers," the first girl answers in that 'obviously' tone you hate when people use with you. "You're with Ferrari all the time lately, aren't you?"

"I'm with Elix," you clear up, best as you can as they're not really paying attention, their eyes following the group of men that are being escorted by a hostess to their table. "So you know, it's not really—"

"But you've met them,"

"Well, yes but..."

Yes but, you've seen them in scattered moments where they nod and smile at you passing by and the three times you've had to take pictures drinking Elix. You don't even get to the coworker level of knowing them.

"Well let's go!"

"Hold on Holly," Vic speaks up for the first time, "I mean, they literally just got here."

"Which is why we came here," Holly can't seem to get rid of that know-it-all tone, and it's frankly starting to annoy you even if she has a different target now.

It's time to use the angry eyes with Vic, again,in less than 24 hours. That's why she kept asking you to wait just a little longer.

"How did you know they'd be here?" you question, although you already know what a cleveage can do to get any information you want. Can't blame a girl for using her tools.

“I have my ways,” Holly says, and does in fact, fix her cleavage. Fair enough.

"Vic..." you whisper, as the rest of them regather in their own conversation. "What's happening?"

"I just– they said they really wanted to meet the Ferrari guys, y/n," Vic half whines. She's doing the most to impress the other girls, which is a very Vic thing to do, but still you don't like it. "And since you work with them, well it would be easier to approach them, right?"

Wrong.

"I- Vic, I don't work with these guys. We don't even work for the same people, and... it would be weird to approach them while they're trying to have dinner peacefully."

You are not a big fan of interruptions because you've heard enough of your coworkers talk about how annoying it is. As for yourself, sometimes you mind, sometimes you don't. It all depends.

You can barely distinguish their table with all the movement around the restaurant, but you manage a peek at Carlos' hair. Both of them are there, surrounded by a bunch of other Ferrari guys.

"So? Let's go," Holly is speaking again, downing the rest of her alcoholic Shirley Temple.

"I have to use the bathroom," you announce, dropping the napkin that covered your lap on the table.

"Right now?" the other girl—you feel guilty for not remembering her name— groans.

You refrain from replying, and try not to stomp to the bathroom like a toddler throwing a tantrum. If there’s anything that you hate is feeling used, and it hurts a lot more when it comes from Victoria.

It’s something else when she uses her doe-eyed stare and says “please, please, please” to get her way even with you, rather than set you up to impress her other friends.

You take your time to reapply lipstick in the bathroom and soothe your annoyance. You have told Vic before that she needs to ask for things, not just push you into awkward situations. At least she didn’t follow you to the restroom.

Taking a deep breath, you step out of the bathroom, wondering how to go on about this. It’s very likely that things get twisted and it is you who’ll look like she wants to brag about knowing the Ferrari guys, which you’re sure they’re used to—being bragged about. But you don’t want that.

There are many clichés that you have experienced, both as a character in RomComs where the biggest makeover that is done to your character is to apply a little mascara and remove the glasses (you hate that, what’s wrong with wearing glasses?). And in real life, with big romantic gestures like receiving a bouquet with a hundred roses and one is artificial… Blah blah.

This cliché is a little more ridiculous, though, as you crash into Charles Leclerc while leaving the restroom.

“Oh, sorry,” you half-smile back at him, he’s already smiling, showing dimples and everything. You see his appeal no matter how much you don’t want to notice it. Tall, green-blue eyes and those stupid dimples. Not to mention the fact that you suddenly find accents charming. Again, stupid.

“Hey y/n,” he says still smiling, “Did you just get here?”

“Uh, no actually we’re leaving in a few minutes,” you move out of the way of a lady that wants to get into the restroom, she eyes you both for a moment before continuing on her way.

“Are you here with your friends? Or is it with Elix?”

“My friends. Thank God I get to be away from Elix for a few hours.”

Charles chuckles and the moment runs long enough to become awkward. You’re still outside of the bathrooms and another guy has too given you an off look as he made his way inside.

"Let me walk you back to your table," Charles offers as a way of breaking the silence and you shake your head no.

"You don't have to, my friends are probably on the way out already, anyway."

Are you being selfish by keeping Vic's friends away from him? It doesn't matter to you, not really. But really a small part of you doesn't want things to go their way.

Charles doesn't listen to your refusal anyway, and asks you to lead the way with a gesture.

"I didn't see you at the Ferrari Suite after Quali," he mentions as he follows you a step behind.

"I was in the VIP Lounge with a friend," you explain, "I'll be at the Suite tomorrow, though."

You stop at your table, where the three girls are still doing their best to ogle at the Ferrari guys.

"Hey," you get their attention back and not one in the three of them even attempt to hide the pleasant surprise that Charles' presence gives them. "Are you ready to go?"

It's Vic's turn to give you a look. One that tells you to not be unfair, things have just started to go as they planned.

While you return the pointed look to Vic, Holly strikes a conversation with Charles. Lightning quick.

"Let's go," you repeat, "Gotta be up early tomorrow."

"Can we get a picture, though?" the other girl—lord, if you could remember her name you'd feel a little better —adds quickly.

"Do you mind?" you ask Charles before he can reply. You don't want to make a fuss and have half the restaurant acknowledging his presence and his disposition to take pictures and sign autographs while he's trying to have dinner.

"Not at all," he shakes his head and waits patiently for everyone to be camera-ready while you stare. "Aren't you getting in the picture?"

"I'll take it," you hold your hand out for an iPhone, and get Holly's bedazzled one. Charles frowns but you just say 'okay, ready?' before pointing the camera at them.

No one else argues the fact that you're not in the picture.

A chorus of 'thank you's' passes quickly as you return the iPhone and the three influencers start checking the picture. They're probably better photographers than you, you can accept that.

"So I'll see you tomorrow, y/n," Charles leans towards you, leaving the group to their own thing after he pleased their request. "Right?"

"I'll be the one drinking Elix," you joke, half-whining.

"I'll be the one in the red car," Charles jokes back, a wide smile spreading on his face.

You laugh, fighting against the sudden shyness caused by the familiarity.

"Goodnight," he calls quietly, and the girls wish him a goodnight and good luck for the race before he snakes through tables back to his friends.

Not another thank you is directed at you as your group leaves the restaurant to wait for the Uber back to the hotel.

─── team principal radio: ❝hello! thank you for reading! I'm really grateful for everyone who has interacted with this story, I hope you're enjoying it so far ♡❞

[bicarbonate-blues]

Heatless Flame

Stardew Valley- Sebastian x Female!Farmer

Summary: Sebastian coming to the farm asking if you have any herbs to help with the rock crab wound he got in the caves and you help patch him up. He's silly goofy in love with the you. Fluff

notes: I'll typically try to do a gender neutral farmer but I'll specify when that isn't the case like with this fic. I use Y/N in this fic.

Tag: @victorylr

The ticking of the clock was far too loud as Sebastian lay in bed, eyes wide and locked onto the ceiling. His hands were folded on his chest but his fingers twitched with frustration and impatience. His skin was crawling as he tried his best to lay still and fall into sleep but it wouldn't take him and he knew that he'd have to get up and do something before his unsettled bones could rest.

That day had been nothing short of miserable. Work had been tedious, boring, and a general waste of time if it weren't for the paycheck. He'd gone upstairs to grab some lunch and instead had retreated right back down the stairs when he'd heard Demetrius and his mom start to bicker at one another. That had been a can of worms he hadn't felt like opening over a reheated slice of pizza. Everyone knew he'd pick his mom's side for whatever asinine thing they were at odds with and Demetrius would give him the stink eye like he shouldn't have been born. A regular Tuesday, really.

Since then he had remained in his room. Normally he wouldn't regret the reclusive day he had made for himself but as the clock ticked further into the night he was dying to do something fun. If it weren't for the brakes on his bike needing maintenance, he'd already be halfway to Zuzu City. Finally, his eyes locked onto a frozen tear that the farmer had gifted him last week for his birthday.

The frozen tear sparked an idea in his mind and off he went, tugging a beanie over his head and tugging on his favorite boots before he left his bedroom. He did his best to be quiet while he searched the dark garage for a leftover pick axe and a flashlight, courtesy of his mother. Snow crunching underfoot, he made his way to the haphazard wooden plank that pretended to be a bridge to the right of his home and he crossed it. It wobbled slightly, his stomach doing flips, and he wondered how it hadn't broken beneath the weight of the horse you rode across it every couple days.

Flashlight at the ready he walked to the back of the mine to where the elevator was poorly lit, like a beacon saving him from his boredom.

Pressing the button going down, Sebastian took a steadying breath. Immediately the metal doors slid open for him, with a slight groan and a loud creak. The impatience flooding his veins was gone now, replaced with excitement. Before the doors slid shut he wondered if he could find something pretty to gift you in return for your gift to him.

_

About five levels down and a backpack full of odd stones he found pleasant to the eye, Sebastian was wondering how in the hell you spent the entire week running back and forth to the mine. Not that he ever could truly complain about you stopping to say hello while he was out for his nightly smoke. You would wrinkle your nose if the wind blew towards you but never in disgust or judgment at his habit, however negative he knew it to be.

It was a secret he kept locked inside his heart but those were his favorite nights. Standing beside you at the lake while you recounted your day's events to him. The glow ring you had lit up the space around your hands as you waved them in the air happily. You were so full of life that it ran over your edges, seeping into him and filling him with a new vigor to do something. Those dreams of escaping to Zuzu City permanently once he had the means seemed so much smaller after meeting you. Without knowing it, you had given him so much, and he'd be damned if he didn't try and repay the effort.

Resettling his bag on his shoulders he climbed down the next ladder he had found. It had been nestled at the end of a long cave, right beside a line of tracks that led to a mine cart full of coal. He had pocketed some, maybe you could use it or Clint could buy it off him.

Nearly immediately after dropping into the cave he saw a curious looking stone that reflected back the beam from his flashlight in oranges and yellows. The cave seemed to glitter, like a heatless flame and he knew immediately that he needed to get this for you. The grin he was imagining you'd have was so brilliant he nearly stopped breathing. I might actually die if she smiles at me for real... He thought in passing as he took to working the stone. What was it?

Sebastian searched his head for thoughts that didn't scream you, you, you. It was hard when you had come to consume him. With a smile he pocketed the stone, the topaz. That's what it is, Topaz. The way the topaz had lit the room up reminded Sebastian of the way your glow ring sparkled off of your eyes when you shared your late night talks.

You were his heatless flame. Never there to hurt him or leave him burned or scarred, but always there to warm him and fill him with a new life he hadn't had since it was just him and his mom, playing pool every Friday even if he hadn't been quite as tall as the table.

In his reverie, Sebastian had lost some of the caution he had practiced the first few levels of the mines. He had cut through slimes and avoided any bug he came across but now he was tripping over a larger than average rock and that rock was beginning to crawl at him.

"Shit!" Sebastian muttered, scrambling back on his hands with his eyes locked onto what he knew now to be a rock crab. They were quicker than he thought and it got it's pincer around his calf before he could mutter another curse. He jerked away from it in panic but all that accomplished was the rock crab strengthening it's grip. The hard edges pulled at his skin and he winced before grabbing the damn thing and ripping it away from his calf.

His heart pounded forcefully in his chest and his head swam momentarily before the rushing in his ears calmed down. The terrible rip of his skin had filled him with adrenaline and he used it to pat his pockets and reassure himself your topaz was tucked safely away before bolting to the ladder and then to the elevator. Sebastian had gotten what he had come for and maybe a little more than he had bargained for.

_

Once Sebastian was safely out of the mines he sat heavily down onto the snow just outside the entrance. With heaving lungs, he let the chill of the snow seep into his scraped hands and dampen the legs of his pants. The cold was grounding, calming. His calf gave a painful twinge and he snuck a glance at the offending wound. Blood dyed the snow beneath him scarlet but the flow was not fast nor terribly bothersome. There was an ache that wouldn't go away and he knew he should get it tended to but Harvey was long asleep and he wasn't about to face his mother's wrath or invasive questions.

Robin's anger wouldn't be half as frightful if he told the truth but then she'd look at him with searching eyes and say, "The farmer, huh?, like it wasn't obvious that he had fallen for her this last flower dance when she had danced with Alex of all the people in town. She had danced with the man who shared the least in common with him. Did that mean something?

His heart gave a sharp tug almost as painful as the rock crab wound. Sebastian knew damn well Alex had invited you to dance just to catch Haley's eye, but you had said yes. You were more than arm candy and he had spent the next week in the worst mood wondering why. It wasn't until he saw you again that that feeling had eased and then he'd been faced with the knowledge of having fallen in love.

You had just shrugged when he'd asked how the dance had been with Alex. A sly smile played at your lips when you'd then asked, "How was dancing with Abigail?", like you knew something he didn't. Like you knew Abby was a childhood friend he tried to put distance from as often as possible and had since become a placeholder for inconveniences such as the annual dance. Like you knew he was wishing for her to be you.

Shuffling around on the snow when his hands began to sting with the cold, he realized that he needed to get up and care for his wound. He could walk on it well enough so he hobbled even more cautiously this time over the wooden bridge and back into his garage. Eyes peeled and flashlight at the ready he searched for where his mom kept her first aid kit for when she worked. Spotting it on Demetrius' workbench, he opened up only to be filled with disappointment. Sebastian's wonderful, loving, intelligent mother had not restocked the first aid kit in Yoba only knows how long.

Where would he even-?

Sebastian's thought was cut off with your name, as much of his thoughts were. You were always around town with bandaged fingers and poultices to offer to Evelyn for sore hips or to Vincent for scraped knees. You would have something to help.

He supposed it was wishful thinking that you would answer the door, and the walk to the farm wouldn't be delightful this time of night let alone with a bum leg but Sebastian pictured your smile once more and that heatless flame you gave off warmed him just enough to spur him to action.

_

Sebastian's head swam uncomfortably as he took the route to your farm but he used what adrenaline he had left in him to carry him all the way to your porch. Thankfully, torches lit the way and he didn't stumble or otherwise agitate his calf. Knocking on the door one, two, three times he let his fist fall before settling into the rocking chair you had set up for when George came to see you.

You had confided in him once that George enjoyed watching you work and was comfortable with letting you help him into the rocking chair. It reminded him of his childhood and Sebastian thought it was so sweet he could fall apart. He chuckled for a moment, even if Alex wasn't interested, he was sure that George hoped you would take a liking to his grandson just so he could claim you as family.

"Y/N!" He called, not too loud but none too gently either. He'd be thrilled to get something to fix the damn ache in his leg and close up the wound but if you were sleeping there was a part of him that wanted you to keep on dreaming. Your welfare mattered greatly to him, nearly over his own. He let his eyes close for a moment. Maybe it'd be alright if he just rested here for a second and then he could be on his way. He'd see Harvey tomorrow.

"Sebastian! What happened?" You gasped, jolting Sebastian back to reality. You held three jars of mayonnaise in your hands and at the sight of him you dropped all of them.

His throat was suddenly dry at the sight of you.

"Y/N, I-"

"Inside, right now," Your scolded but your voice was still so warm and even as your eyebrows knit together in confusion he could see the concern in those gorgeous eyes while they traced down his figure to the tattered jeans and blood on his leg.

Sebastian pushed himself up from the rocker and nearly giggled when your hand pressed firmly against his back. If he thought hard enough he could imagine your hard-earned callouses against his spine and he suppressed a shiver. Maybe he had bled a bit more than he'd thought.

You pulled a chair out from a table, your farmhouse being much larger than when he had last visited. Rather than the single room your first year, you now boasted a kitchen, three upper level rooms, a cellar and basement. You put his mom to good work and good work she had achieved.

And here he was, getting blood on the hardwood.

"Sit and speak," You demanded and Sebastian fixed his eyes onto yours. You were already shuffling around in one of your cabinets, retrieving an armful of supplies. He knew you'd have just what he needed.

"Got bored. Went to the mines and didn't see a rock crab."

Sebastian nearly rolled his eyes. He didn't mean to sound so....apathetic. He had spent so long playing it cool that he didn't know how to take himself out of it even when internally he was aching to shower you with gifts, affirmations, and if he was lucky enough, affection.

The pinched look of your face didn't exactly disappear but it eased some as you knelt before him, eyes wide and perfect as they took him in. He always felt exposed around you and at first it had made him uncomfortable. He had tried pushing you away because of it, but now he relished the feeling of being seen.

"My, my, Seb," You scolded against, this time warmly and without the nervous energy you'd had before when you hadn't known what was wrong with him. His heart leapt jerkily at the words you spoke. Yes, yours, all yours actually just ask me-

"It was dark," He mumbled, cheeks bright pink from the cold and something more.

"Typically in an unlit mine, things are dark," You agreed playfully, hands carefully but steadily rolling up the torn leg of his jeans. He really had liked him but he couldn't find it in him right now to mind the loss with your fingers prodding gently at his skin.

"Oh shut it," Sebastian laughed but the last thing he wanted was for you to stop speaking. Regrettably, you grew silent for a moment but he knew it was in concentration as you took a wet rag and wiped the blood and dirt away from the edges of his wound. So careful not to hurt him. Always so careful.

"Does it hurt?" You whispered, tilting your chin up at him. Sebastian drank up your appearance, the light from the fireplace casting gentle shadows against the side of your face. You were kneeling before him, hands carefully prodding at his leg and lips stuck out in a pout. He wanted run his fingers through your hair and pull you to him.

"Nothing hurts right now," He said a bit too honestly, not having time to question the words before they were out. You looked alarmed for a second, hand coming to press against his forehead.

"Don't joke so much, you sound like you're dying and meeting Yoba,"

"Oh yeah, because a scrape from a rock crab would-"

"Stop being sassy Seb, let me clean you up."

Sebastian couldn't help the dumbfounded grin that surfaced. There was something about the way you commanded the room, commanded him, that left him weak in the knees with no defenses.

You hummed softly, even when you applied alcohol to sanitize the wound and he hissed, jerking roughly away from you. You had gripped his thigh to keep him from moving too much and he stilled the second you squeezed. He stopped moving, let alone breathing, after that. Soon you were securing his calf with a bandage and looking at him with a satisfied but curious smile.

"You know, you're lucky I forgot to get the mayo from the coop earlier or I would've been in bed and you would've bled out on my porch,"

"I thought you might be awake," Sebastian answered honestly.

"Your mom could've helped,"

"Her first aid kit was empty,"

"Harvey-"

"Sleeping, and I wanted to give you something anyways,"

That look like you knew something he didn't played at your features again and his stomach did a somersault. To get away from the dizzy feeling you were giving him, he stood up and walked almost normally to his bag that had been left by the door.

"You didn't have to get me anything,"

You said it airily, with no real conviction. He knew you liked presents just like everyone else in town except you didn't receive them nearly half as often as you gave them out. For god's sake Pierre gave you seven potato seeds at the feast of the winter star last year. Sebastian was praying Lewis would let him be your secret gifter this year.

He pulled out the Topaz and extended it, eyes darting to the ceiling but then dropping back down to you. No matter how vulnerable he felt right now, in your home in the middle of the night, he wanted to see you light up at the sight of your present.

It was only when you held the topaz in your hands and looked at it oddly he thought you must have gathered plenty for yourself and he felt momentary regret. What could he give you that you didn't already have?

Taking two steps closer, you raised your chin and he noticed with shock that your eyes had grown glossy with tears.

"How did you know I love topaz?"

Sebastian couldn't help but let out an abrupt chuckle. "I honestly didn't, but it reminded me of your glow ring when you leave the mines and we talk and so I couldn't help but-"

You had put an end to his rambling by throwing your arms around his waist, topaz still held protectively in one of your hands as you tightened your arms around him and snuggled your head against his chest.

The air had definitely left him, never to return, and he was in fact going to die on your floor.

"Y/N..." Sebastian had nothing to say but he felt compelled to speak your name. The way it sounded off of his lips felt like finding a missing puzzle piece.

"Sebastian," You whispered in response, not releasing him from the hug.

"Y/N," Sebastian teasing said back. You huffed in amusement and began to pull away, thinking the moment was over but Sebastian kept you in his arms and you stopped trying to move away when he didn't let go. You stilled even further when he brushed a barely-there kiss to the crown of your head as if possessed by the need to feel your hair against his lips.

"Thank you for helping me, I'm sorry it's late,"

"Thank you for giving me a gift, I'm sorry it's late,"

He rolled his eyes at your parroted words but held you closer. He couldn't feel the cool wetness from his snowy pants or the ache in his calf nor the sting in his palms anymore. His heatless flame with her healing touch had removed all of his ailments.

Sometime later, after you had got him a towel and a warm cup of coffee to sip at while you talked on the couch, you let your head fall onto his shoulder and rest there. Even longer after that, the sun had come up and you had begun your work for the day with the promise to take a nap, Sebastian was on his way home with a skip in his step and warmth in his chest (and two new jars of mayonnaise in his pack).

Maybe you did know something he didn't know but maybe he was starting to see that his feelings for you weren't so different from how you felt about him.

[hrefna-the-raven]

Web of faith

Masterlist - BG3 masterlist

Chapters: 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7

Chapter 1

Words: 1062

Summary: Prior being trapped under the spell of the Absolute, Kar'niss was just a normal drow, trying to survive the daily threats that the city of Menzoberranzan held. He thought himself lost until you found him, showing him that there is a beauty to life he thought impossible.

"Come on, Niss!", you exclaimed as you squeezed through a narrow crevice in the rock, "you're getting old and slow!"

Kar'niss rolled his eyes, visibly annoyed, as he handed you a bag and attempted to maneuver through the tight space.

"I'm only four years older than you, besides you're a tiny excuse of a drow", he playfully teased, a mischievous smirk forming on his lips as he tousled your long, flowing white hair.

In response, you stuck out your tongue and let out a joyful giggle. Placing a blanket on the ground after lighting up the small lantern, it's glowing white light illuminating the small space like it was dunked in a pale moonlight, you sat down and patted the spot next to you, inviting Kar'niss to join you.

He settled into the blanket beside you, taking a deep breath. These moments spent with you were a source of tranquility, a stark contrast to the daily, often dangerous, chaos of Menzoberranzan that he endured. Trustworthy individuals, those who didn't seek to betray for personal gain, were a rarity in his district of the city. That's why, after meeting you for the first time five years ago, he made it his mission to cherish you like the rare gem you were to him— a shining diamond amidst the toxic darkness that surrounded him.

You had shown him this very spot on the day you first met, noticing the sorrow in his eyes as he wandered the streets of your district, his lip bloodied from a deep cut, his body littered with bruises. Without asking any questions, you simply took his hand and guided him here. He willingly followed, regardless of whether it led to his demise or not. He never mentioned what occurred on that particular day and you refrained from asking. Instead, both of you embraced the fact that you had entered each other's lives and remained together, relishing the tranquil privacy of that small, unknown cave as often as possible. Kar'niss vividly recalled the day it all changed again, two years after your initial meeting, as if it were yesterday. You were both sitting in the same spot on the same blanket when he timidly confessed his deepening feelings for you. His love for you had blossomed long before, but the fear of jeopardising your special friendship had held him back for far too long. To his surprise, you simply smiled at him, your eyes, a radiant shade of light purple, filled with joy as you leaned in and gently pressed your soft lips against his in a tender kiss. No words were necessary to express your answer; instead, you conveyed your affection through this simple act. From that moment on, the two of you became even more inseparable and it felt like nothing could ever tear you apart again.

The pain he had experienced in his past had led him to find solace in your presence - of that, he was certain. He believed that Lolth had somehow tested him before and he must have proven himself worthy, hence why she had bestowed upon him the gift of having you in his life now. And today, one day before officially proving himself worthy in the eyes of his goddess, was the day Kar'niss had chosen to declare his commitment to you. His hands fumbled nervously with the small ring tucked away in his pocket as he gazed at you. You softly hummed a tune, resting your head on his shoulder, blissfully unaware of what he intended to ask you. His fingers traced the intricate patterns of the diamond-adorned ring, seven delicate star-shaped stones set amidst a web of slender silver strings. It had once belonged to his mother, the last memento he possessed from his family before she fell victim to an assassin sent by another matron, right after he had been sent away to the Tower. However, all of that was insignificant now as he prepared to give you the ring and ask you to be his.

Your humming ceased as you rose slowly and positioned yourself between Kar'niss' thighs. Your gentle fingers caressed his cheeks while you showered his face with tender kisses.

"What troubles your mind, my beloved?", you asked, your nose gently nudging his as a smile graced your lips, although your eyes revealed the concerns that consumed your thoughts.

Kar'niss immediately ceased fidgeting with the ring and reached up to hold your hand, gently squeezing them as his sorrowful gaze met yours.

"Don't worry love", you whispered, pecking his lips, "I know no one more devoted to our great goddess than you. If anyone is capable of passing her test, it is undoubtedly you. I have unwavering faith in your abilities."

He felt his heart crack, anguish coursing through his thoughts as he dwelled on the impending test of faith. It was undeniable that his devotion to the goddess was unwavering, yet he couldn't shake the fear that accompanied the test. The fear of what might be demanded of him, the fear that he might not possess the strength to vanquish his opponent, inevitably leading to the devastating loss of his one true love. Little did he know, you also harboured the same fear, dreading a life without him, terrified that the agony of his absence would shatter your very essence into countless fragments, impossible to piece back together. Your hearts were entwined, your destinies entangled like a delicate spiderweb, but despite the depth of your faith and love, everything felt so fragile in the face of potential failure as Lolth was many things but not forgiving.

Kar'niss tenderly pressed his lips against yours, initially with a hint of hesitation. However, as he heard your gentle moan, his kiss intensified, filled with a growing passion. He leaned back, enticing you to join him, pulling your body closer to his own. The upcoming test and its outcome seemed insignificant compared to the present moment. Even if he were to fail tomorrow, he was determined to fully surrender himself to you, exposing his soul and body in this final act of intimacy as he cherished every touch exchanged between your bodies and he eagerly accepted each moan of praise that you would grant him. And if fate allowed it, tomorrow he, a devoted champion of Lolth, would finally summon the courage to ask you to be his.

Notes: I already apologise for the tragedy and the heartbreak 😅

[the-jewel-catalogue]

Queen Elizabeth's Engagement Ring

Prince Philip designed the square-cut diamond engagement ring with jewellers Philip Antrobus Ltd.

The ring is a platinum ring set with eleven diamonds, a 3 carat round solitaire and five smaller stones set on each shoulder. The diamond's used were from his mother's tiara.

Crafted from platinum, the ring is set with eleven diamonds in total, including five smaller stones set on each shoulder. A design like this isn’t seen often, it’s very unique. 

[scalingsvt8thusiast]

Skin-Deep chapter 12

summary: The one where you fall for Seungcheol amongst all the protests and insecurities. The one where you don't know that he's fallen for you too.

a/n: Enjoy! :)

Ensconced in a velvet armchair, you sat surrounded by your friends who were howling with laughter. 

“They said what?” Yunjin said in between tears, clutching her stomach from the pain of laughing too hard. 

“I cannot FATHOM anyone saying that to you,” Shuhua cried, wiping the tears from her eyes, trying her best not to smudge her mascara. 

“God, what is up with her ceiling?” Somi laughed, imagining a bunch of naked people on the ceiling, “New money people, I can never understand.”

“Talk about bad taste, who the fuck puts stained glass in their dining room?” Jihyo added, sipping on her tea.

You had just finished relaying the drama from the past month to your friends whilst jewellery shopping at your favourite store. The five of you sat facing one another with a bucket load of jewellery spread out on a coffee table in the middle. The shop assistants constantly bringing out all of their best jewellery for each of you to inspect. 

“You should have slapped her!” Shuhua commented, mimicking a slapping motion in the air. “I know I would have! Insulting my bestie like that.”

Shuhua was your most outspoken friend. Her father was renowned as the Grocery King of Taiwan, owning almost all of the supermarkets and groceries store in the country. She always made sure to send out boxes of the best fruits and vegetables to her best friends. Their mothers appreciating the present more than any of their daughters. 

“And his father! ‘You need a right girl by your side’.” Jihyo mimicked, “Go back to the 70s, old man! No one wants you here!” 

Jihyo, who was extremely appaled by backwards thinking, was the daughter of the Gold Kingdom. Her family held monopoly over the trade of gold globally. Jihyo was regularly decked out in gold, but she didn’t mind shopping for other sorts of jewellery. 

“How does your son’s choice of girlfriend affect your company’s survivability?” Somi said, rolling her eyes, “does he know nothing about business?”

Somi, your ever business savvy friend, had just returned from completing her MBA. This was to prepare her to inherit her mother’s massive cosmetics empire. In fact all the makeup on your face right now was a gift from Somi.  

“I literally just looked up their company while you were talking. They’re worth what? 20 bil?” Yunjin turned her phone to show you a report. “And they’re so bloody arrogant!”

Yunjin, who was more interested in people’s net worths, hailed from a family who ran the world's most successful banking co-operation. This grants her access to all the secretive reports of various companies and high net worth individuals around the world. 

Where Seungcheol had Joshua and Jeonghan, you had Shuhua, Jihyo, Somi and Yunjin. 

The five of you had been friends since you were children, your parents all knew each other so naturally you grew up together. Majority of your youth was spent flying all over the world for shopping trips and holidays together. The only reason you separated was because you wanted to experience life without your parent’s money for once. You’d regularly keep up with them while you were at uni but it wasn’t the same as seeing them face to face. You missed the support your girlfriends gave you after being surrounded by boys for months.

“Guys, it’s honestly fine.” You said, holding your hand up to the light, inspecting the massive diamond around your finger. “I’ve left and I’m not looking back. That part of my life is over.” 

“Which part of your life is over?” A voice sounded from behind you.

“Vernon!” Your friends chorused. 

Your brother, waltzed up to the table. Giving each one of your friends a wave.

“Oh, you’re here early.” You said, placing the ring back on the table. Large stones attracted unwanted attention, not your taste.  

“Yea, we should probably leave now, you know how mom and dad get when we’re late.” Vernon said, motioning to the door. 

You sent your friend’s an apologetic smile, “Sorry guys, let’s continue another day?” 

A wave of goodbyes came from your friends as you and your brother left the shop, his Mclaren Senna parked at the main doors. 

Once you were comfortably seated in the car, you began running through your activities for the night. 

“After dinner, are we going over to Gyu’s place?” You said, your freshly manicured nails tapping against your phone. 

“Yea, it’s just going to be the few of us I think.” Vernon answered, driving carefully around a crowd who was snapping photos of his car. 

“How long do you think dinner with mom and dad will be?” You questioned, still replying to messages on your phone. 

“Probably like 2 hours tops? We might be a lil’ late to Gyu’s place.” Vernon replied, “Gosh, sis, your nails are giving me a headache.”

You turn to your brother with an evil grin. You reached your hand out and grabbed his arm, digging your nails into his skin. 

Vernon yelped. “HEY! I’m driving!” 

“That’s what you get for being annoying,” You say with a smirk before continuing to tap on your phone. 

Vernon’s eye twitched the entire ride home.

You hopped out of the car and skipped up the steps of the front porch. Vernon trailing behind you with hands in his pockets. 

“Young sir, young madam.” The maid had come out to greet the two of you, bowing as you passed her. “Dinner is ready.” 

“Thanks!” You called out over your shoulder and made your way to the dining room. 

This bungalow was your parent’s most recent acquisition. It had gone on the market quite recently, some Duke who had fallen from grace was looking to make a pretty penny so he sold it to your mom. She had been eyeing the property for awhile now, claiming that she thought about you immediately when she saw the massive walk-in closet in the main bedroom. It was added to the list of properties you were set to inherit when you were older. 

In the dining room, your parents sat next to each other at a sensibly sized round table.

“Hi mommy,” You say as you gave her a side hug. Your mother gave you a kiss on your cheek before continuing to read her magazine. 

“Hi daddy,” Doing the same to your father who was immersed in his newspaper. 

“Mom, dad.” Vernon greeted with a nod. 

“Oh finally the two of you are back, we’ve been waiting forever.” Your mother said, putting away her magazine as she peered at her children from the top of her reading glasses.

“Your mom’s just hangry.” Your dad flashed you a mischievous smile, ignoring his wife’s warning glare.

The maid entered with a trolley of food, proceeding to lay it out on the lazy susan. You much prefer these sort of meals than all those pretentious fine dining restaurants. Food was meant to be simple and identifiable, some people clearly did not understand that. 

Dinner was filled with idle chatter, you father was talking about the new venture he was thinking of in Thailand while your mom updated her children on the coming events they had to attend. 

“Aunty and Uncle Yoon are coming to town to visit.” Your mother announced. “I expect both of you to make yourselves available.”

“Sure mom,” you and Vernon chorused.

“I think they’re bringing their son eh?” Your dad said in between mouthfuls of rice. “Maybe you two could show him around.” 

And that is how you found yourself face to face with the one and only Yoon Jeonghan.  

“Y/N my dear!” Mrs Yoon gushed, holding your hands, “Every time we see you, you get prettier and prettier!” 

“This is Jeonghan, my son. I don’t think the three of you have met.” Mr Yoon said, gesturing to Jeonghan who was currently giving you a shit-eating grin. 

“Y/n!” Jeonghan cried, giving you a hug.

“Hannie!” You quickly returned his hug, you weren’t expecting to see Jeonghan at all. “This is my brother, Vernon.”

Vernon politely shook Jeonghan’s hand, exchanging quick greetings.

“Oh? Have you met y/n?” Mrs Yoon asked her son.

“Yes, we met at uni.” Jeonghan said, giving his mom a reassuring smile.  

“Ok, we’ll leave you kids alone now!” Your mom said, giving your arm a squeeze.

“Unless you guys want to sit through a meeting with us?” Your dad offered.

The three of your faces contorted into a look of disgust. 

“I think we’ll pass.” Vernon said, scrunching up his face.

Jeonghan waited until his parents disappeared from the room before giving you an excited look. 

“So this is where you were the whole time!” He chirped. “I thought you had been kidnapped when you fell off the face of the earth like that.”

Vernon narrowed his eyes at Jeonghan, “Is this the guy you were telling me about?” 

You shook your head, “No, this is his friend.”

“Ah,” Vernon crossed his arms, giving Jeonghan a disapproving look. “Guilty by association.”

Jeonghan chuckled nervously, “I promise I’m harmless.”

Vernon continued to eye the older man suspiciously. 

“I’m sorry for disappearing like that, Hannie.” You sighed. “Trust me if I had it my way I would have said good bye first.”

“Hey, it’s fine.” Jeonghan waved a hand, dismissing your apology. “If that happened to me, I would leave too.”

“Did you guys hear about what happened?” You asked, wondering if Seungcheol was the type to gossip.

“Not in the way you’re thinking.” Jeonghan quickly replied, as if reading your mind. "Shua had to pay some people to find out.” 

“Oh,” You paused, “Why didn’t you just ask Seungcheol?”

“I-,” Jeonghan paused, glancing wearily in the direction of your parents. “Let’s not talk about it here. There’s a lot I need to update you on.”

The three of you found yourselves having tea at the Mariott. You had called up Mingyu beforehand, who insisted on coming as well, to secure a table.

“Mingyu’s on his way?” Jeonghan said, excited that he finally got to see his friends in their natural habitat. 

“Yup, there he is now.” Your eyes darted to your best friend who jogged into the restaurant. 

“Have you started?” Mingyu said breathlessly, “Tell me you guys haven’t started.”

“No, bro, sit down.” Vernon gestured to the chair before making a face. “You’re sweaty as fuck.”

“Gym.” Mingyu replied still clad in gym clothes, he wiped the sweat off his forehead before sitting down. 

“Alright, now that we’re all here,” Jeonghan began, leaning forward, “you should know, Cheol hasn’t been himself these days.”

He recounted all the events that happened, starting from the day you and Seungcheol broke up and all the way to them confronting him at his apartment.

You didn’t know how to feel. Part of you was happy that Seungcheol was just as upset as you, part of you was sad because you knew things between you and him would never go back to normal. Was he considering getting back together with you? Did you want to get back together with him? 

“It’s great he’s suffering and all. But that doesn’t give him the right to be an asshole.” Mingyu voiced out. His eyed the table of sweets in front of him as if he was strategising for war.

“Why didn’t he talk to y/n first before disappearing and breaking up with her?” Mingyu continued with a look of contempt.

“Because he’s an idiot.” Jeonghan replied, in between mouthfuls of pastries. “Not an excuse, I know.” 

“I think you two should have a proper conversation,” Vernon sipped on his tea. 

“Well obviously not you,” He gestured to his sister, “I mean like he should have a conversation with you.” 

“Yeah, well.” You shrugged, “I want to talk to him, but he’s clearly intent on keeping me out of his life so-” 

“When we told him about well, you.” Jeonghan gestured to you and his surroundings, “He looked really relieved.”

You placed a Madeleine into your mouth and looked out the window, lost in thought. In the background you could hear Mingyu arguing with Vernon and Jeonghan. 

Mingyu rolled his eyes, “Honestly, I don’t trust Seungcheol on this. If you ask him to choose between y/n and his family, who would he choose? My money is on his family.”

“Actually, I think it would be y/n.” Jeonghan said with conviction. “You should have seen him. It was like armageddon had arrived on the choi family home.”

“I don’t know the guy, but I think he would choose you, sis.” Vernon said, nodding vigorously. 

a/n2: I'm actually quite unsatisfied with quality of my writing. but i hope you all enjoyed it all the same.