#I don’t even have a pronoun preference they just don’t matter at all to me

[vesper-specter]

Yknow that one tweet that’s like “I’m probably nb but I have a job” or whatever I think that’s me except like. It’s just not something that exists to me. I don’t think of myself in anyway at all and I don’t want to. If I start to it feels genuinely suffocating.

So idk what id call me haha

[freelancearsonist]

make a move on me

➔ pre-outbreak!Joel Miller x reader - 5.5k

➔ You've been teasing Joel every day since he started remodeling construction on your house. He finally works up the courage to do something about it - but not in the way you expect him to.

➔ Rated MA for baby’s first anal fic protected p in a and anal fingering (r receiving), age gap (reader is early 20’s, joel is 36), m masturbation/pillowhumping, daddy kink, size kink, praise kink, gentle-turned-rough sex, pet names (baby, darling, honey, good girl, baby girl, little lady), slight degradation and condescension but only in a sexy way, one use of “slut”, pussy pronouns, one (1) pussy slap, gratuitous dickscription, heavy dom/sub dynamics i mean seriously these power dynamics are out of control, tommy is a little bit of a shit (affectionate) [pls let me know if i missed anything at all :)]

➔ This reader insert character: has female anatomy and uses feminine pronouns, no name/no use of y/n, is generally able-bodied, fits in joel’s shirt and is implied to be shorter/smaller than him, is on summer break from college but no major/year is mentioned.

Joel had one rule for himself going into this job: be respectful. Keep his hands to himself and his mind on the job. Don’t fret over the pretty little thing who’s been draping herself all over the house ever since he started demo, practically begging to be fucked.

If he had any sense, he would pack his shit and drop the job–or, at the very least, tell your parents to put you on a leash. But there’s a little part of him that might be a glutton for punishment–that savors the teasing.

The most infuriating part of the whole thing is that he can’t blame you for this whole mess. He shouldn’t be so quick to temptation. You should be able to walk around your own home in whatever you want and not have to worry about the creepy contractor getting flustered every time he looks in your general direction.

But god, you make it hard–double entendre intended. You walk around like you haven’t a care in the world because you don’t; you’re home for summer break after a grueling year at college, and you intend to savor every languid second of it. Your preferred method of savoring just happens to be wearing tight little bikinis that barely hold anything in place as you lounge out by the pool in the Texas heat, or tight leggings that hug your ass so perfectly it almost makes him jealous of the material as you curl up with a book on your couch.

Joel’s a grown man. He can keep it in his pants, no matter how badly he wants you. But you’re not exactly making it easy on him.

Really, it’s Tommy’s fault when the levee breaks. If he could keep his big mouth shut, Joel might’ve been able to maintain the thin control he had over himself. But Tommy goes and makes an off-handed comment about you one night, and that’s the beginning of the downward spiral.

The brothers are both lounging on Joel’s couch after a particularly taxing day of demolition work, beers cradled in hands and the TV droning uselessly with some movie that they’re more staring at than actually watching. It’s late, yet weary muscles are melted so comfortably into the couch that neither of them try to move even after Sarah’s gone off to bed.

Tommy’s eyes flicker over to Joel, then back to the TV. “That girl’s gon’ be trouble for us, brother.”

There’s a question mark in the grunt Joel emits, leaning forward with interest because he knows Tommy’s talking about you without any specification.

Tommy hums in confirmation and takes a sip of his Corona. “She’s always wearin’ those skimpy little outfits a’hers, and she ain’t coy. Must catch that pretty little thing starin’ at your ass even more than I catch you starin’ at hers.”

Joel plays it off as best as he can until Tommy goes home for the night with a half-assed promise to actually be on time in the morning for once. Then he goes up to his room, locks the door, and wraps himself around the spare pillow that lays against his headboard.

He tries so desperately hard not to think about the plump round curve of your ass, or the enticing way you lick your lips, or those damned little bikinis you favor. He grinds his aching cock into the soft pillowcase and tries to think about anything that isn’t you.

But he comes with a muffled growl of your name anyway, face pushed deep into the pillow and hips jerking arrhythmically.

There’s not much he can do now besides clean himself up and try not to think about how thoroughly fucked he is.

The next day is torture because he can feel your gaze lingering. He catches you checking him out on more than one occasion, and you’re brazen about it now. You can tell something has shifted, so you shift with it. Where you once would’ve flushed with heat and hurried away to your room, you now meet his heated eye contact and hold it.

Joel’s jaw hurts that night from the way it’s been hard-set and clenched all day long. He rubs over his sore temporomandibular joints with his long, thick fingers and wills himself to siphon you out from beneath his skin.

It doesn’t work.

The work helps. Laying tile is something he normally considers tedious, but it’s a welcome reprieve in your home because he can get down on his hands and knees and focus on something that isn’t you.

You see the labor he’s going through, and you appreciate it. And really, what kind of host would you be if you didn’t reward his efforts?

It starts with a pitcher of iced tea. It’s made just the way Joel likes it, with light ice and a few slices of lemon. He doesn’t know how you could possibly guess that, but it makes him want you that much more.

And then it’s cookies. Pain-stakingly handmade oatmeal raisin cookies, to be exact. You’re like something out of his most shameful domestic dreams in your cute floral-patterned apron and oven mitts as you pull the tray of cookies out of the oven, and an image of you in nothing but those mitts and that apron flickers through his mind before he can stop it.

All the while you traipse around the house like a mirage–humming along to the yacht rock that drifts from Joel’s stereo, swaying your hips in the kitchen as you put together the most delicious bologna sandwich Joel’s ever eaten, toweling off your soaking wet body after an afternoon in the pool. You’re the worst temptation Joel’s ever had to face.

It becomes his mantra. Be respectful, be respectful, be respectful.

But there’s no respect in your eyes. There’s nothing honorable about the way you bite your lip and smirk when he catches your gaze lingering on him.

Joel had one rule for himself going into this job: be respectful. But why should he have to play nice if you don’t?

And really, the whole thing is Tommy’s fault. He started it with that first comment about you, and then he goes and calls out sick (read: horribly hungover) this morning. He leaves Joel all alone with you–gives you the perfect opening to pounce.

Or, more accurately, entice Joel into pouncing on you.

He’s just setting his tool bag down, about to decide where he wants to start today, when your beautiful face pops in through the door.

“Good morning, Joel,” you say with that gorgeous smile of yours that makes his knees go a little weak. “No Tommy today?”

He nearly chokes on his own tongue when you step further into the room wearing a plaid button-up he left here earlier in the week and booty shorts so small he has to do a doubletake to make sure you’re actually wearing anything on your lower half. You look fucking good in his shirt, and suddenly all he can think about is pulling you in and bending you over the half-finished vanity–

“N-no. He’s sick,” Joel manages to choke out. He takes a deep breath to steady himself, then, “that’s my shirt, isn’t it?”

You look down and rub the time-worn fabric between your fingers like you have to think about it, like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing.

“Oh, it must’ve gotten mixed in with our laundry!” The little giggle you let out is so innocent that he almost believes you. Almost. “Here–”

You start to lift the fabric up your torso in the most tantalizingly slow fashion, and he just sits there and watches it happen. He sees the first peek of skin above the waistband of your shorts, and then your beautiful stomach, then the delicious curve of a breast–

He quickly jolts out a hand to stop you in the midst of mentally willing every single molecule in his dick to control itself. “S’alright, darlin’. You keep it. Looks better on you, anyway.”

“Okay,” you acquiesce and let the fabric drop back down into its rightful place. “Can I get you anything? Water maybe?”

He certainly could use it. His neck and face are flushed red, and there’s sweat starting to form at his temples despite the relatively cool temperature within the house.

He realizes, with startling clarity, that he’s at a precipice right now. This might be the only chance he gets to really do something about this burgeoning tension that’s spread thicker than butter between you and him. He’s got a choice to make, and it’s not going to be an easy choice.

“Sure.” It comes out a bit too high-pitched, so he clears his throat and tries again. “Sure, sweetheart. That’d be great.”

“Alright,” you say with that damned giggle again. “I’ll be right back.”

As soon as you leave the room, Joel feels like he can breathe again. It’s so much easier to think straight when you’re not standing there, smiling up at him and looking so damn gorgeous.

He’s got two options, when it boils down to it: fuck you or leave you alone. And he really, really wants to take you. Make you scream his name while he pounds himself into you, fill you so full that you never completely wash him out. And you want it too, he knows you do, you’re practically begging for it.

But he promised himself he would be respectful. That he would keep his hands away from the girl that’s definitely too young and too pure for someone like him–because he knows that if has you, he’ll never be able to get enough.

There’s a very clear and obvious loophole that comes to mind now; a way he could have you without ruining you, a way you could both come out of this satisfied yet mostly intact. Joel’s never been opposed to doing the hard jobs, after all.

He’s got a condom in his wallet and KY jelly in his bag–mostly used for plumbing fittings, but it’ll do the job for this kind of pipework, too.

You come back with a glass of ice water, and his resolve slips. How the hell is he supposed to initiate this? What if you say no and think he’s disgusting? What if you tell your parents? He can’t do this, this was such a horrible idea, he–

Your touch on his back is like a gentle breeze, just a flutter of your fingers to alert him to your return. He flinches a bit at the sudden contact, but when he turns you’re still so achingly close. He can smell the agonizingly sweet aroma of your conditioner and the lotion you slather on your body after showering, and all he wants is more. He wants to wrap you around him, to inhale that scent straight from the source. His resolve is back, just like that.

He doesn’t give himself another opportunity to hesitate. He places one big, meaty palm on your cheek and wraps the other around your hand that holds the glass of ice water to steady you; and then he kisses you with such bruising force it almost knocks the wind out of you.

You moan. You actually moan the second his lips meet yours, and he knows just like that–with a startling moment of clarity–that this isn’t going to be enough. He’s going to take, and take, and take–gorge himself on you until you have nothing left to give. And the strangest thing of the whole matter is that he thinks you’ll actually enjoy his greed.

“Joel–”

“Tell me you don’t want this,” he murmurs as his lips break away from yours–so low and soft in your ear it can’t be anything but a growl. “Tell me you don’t want this, and I’ll stop right now.”

“I want it,” you affirm.

He searches your eyes, but he finds only earnest honesty and lust. That darkness, that pure and unadulterated want is enough to make his pants tighten. “Fuck.” 

He’s so big underneath your roaming hands as he crowds you back against the long bathroom vanity. He lifts you like you’re nothing and sets you on the counter top; he slots himself between your legs and there’s an actual stretch in your muscles to accommodate the width of his hips. One of his wide palms slips behind your head and his fingers tangle into your hair, tugging a little bit to angle your head just the way he wants it. It’s messy and frenzied and desperate–your hands gliding over tee shirt-covered muscle, his tugging your (his) shirt up over your stomach.

“Was starting to think you weren’t interested.” Your voice is heavy and breathy as he breaks away to tug the shirt over your head, casting it aside to lie forgotten on the floor.

“I’ve been tryna convince myself m’not,” he kisses into your neck. “Didn’t work.”

With a sudden roll of his hips, he has you gasping into his neck. He can’t be more than half-hard, but that bulge is formidable. Thick and straining and… suddenly you can’t focus on anything except getting him out of those tight jeans to see what you’re working with.

Your hand just barely fits around him. He’s thick and flushed, getting harder with each passing second as he scatters feather-light kisses over your neck and shoulders. He muffles a groan into your neck as you slowly pump his length–you think he’s seven, maybe eight inches at best guess. The tip of him is flushed red once you get his uncut skin out of the way, and it makes your mouth water. There’s a slight upward curve to him and a long, prominent vein that runs down the left side. It’s porn star material–you didn’t know real people had dicks like this.

“Joel… Jesus, that’s gonna be a tight fit.”

“Oh, don’t worry darlin’,” he hums, thumb ghosting over your clit in a way that makes your entire body jolt. “It ain’t goin’ in there.”

There’s nothing but pure excitement in your voice, despite the anxious gulp that tracks down your throat. “Where…”

“Flip over f’me.”

You follow his instruction with a sort of morbid curiosity, hopping down from the counter before folding yourself over it.

You can feel his eyes on you, as he takes in your willingness. It’s like you’re on display for him, for his appraisal. You’ve still got shorts and a bra on, yet you’ve never felt more exposed.

It’s almost like he can sense your mind swirling–maybe it’s because his is prone to do the same. He sets a gentle hand on your back and smooths it down your spine as he crowds up against you–you can feel the press of his exposed cock against the curve of your ass, and it makes you shiver.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he murmurs as he folds over you, caging you in with the delicious weight of his body. His lips trace along the curve of your jaw and down your neck as he speaks. “But I made myself this little promise that I wouldn’t fuck you. You got me actin’ so unprofessional, honey.”

You whine at the sincerity in his voice–all you’ve wanted since the day he started was for him to have you folded over and at his mercy like this. 

“You can fuck me,” you whine earnestly. “It’s okay, I promise. Won’t tell.”

“Mmm, I know. You’re too good a girl to go gettin’ me in trouble over somethin’ like this,” he hums–you can hear the condescension in his voice even as he praises you, and it makes your cunt clench around nothing. “But with all the teasin’ you been doin’... don’t rightly know that you deserve to be fucked.”

“Please–”

“However,” he continues, landing a light smack to your ass in retaliation for your interruption, “might be willin’ to take you anyway, with some conditions. Out of the goodness of my heart.”

He pauses to let you ask, “What conditions?”

And then he pauses again, asking his own question this time. Is he really going to go through with this? But he’s spent the better part of two weeks staring at your ass, and you’ve spent the better part of two weeks putting it on display for him. It’s like you’ve been silently asking him all this time to take it.

His hand slides down from where it rests on your spine, over your tailbone to where he’s been thinking about all this time. He feels the way your muscles tense up even through your shorts, and it sends a thrill he can’t describe coursing through his veins.

“You ever taken someone here before?”

“N-no.” He feels it again as his other hand comes to soothingly rub your hip–that excited-yet-nervous flutter of muscle. You haven’t run away screaming yet, and that’s the biggest motivator he could have to keep going.

“I think you ought to let me. As a thank you, for puttin’ up with all your play,” he growls into your ear.

It’s fucking dirty, the idea of letting a man you hardly know take you in such a taboo way. It’s even dirtier how fucking excited the idea has you.

“You say no right now and I’ll drop it,” he murmurs so sweetly. “Don’t ever have to talk about this again.”

You’re shaking your head before he’s even finished talking–a sly smirk spreading over your lips as you grind back against him hard enough to make him choke on a moan.

“It’s only right,” you affirm. “Gotta make it up to you for how naughty I’ve been.’

His eyes flash dangerously as he grinds his cock against you again, smearing precome against the flimsy fabric of your shorts. “Atta fuckin’ girl.”

He has your bottoms and panties down around your ankles in a flash, and he actually groans at the sight of your sticky cunt all puffy and wet and on display for him.

He can’t resist the urge to swipe a finger through your folds, delighting in the string of shiny arousal that connects his finger to your core when he pulls away. “She wants it so bad, hmm? Such a shame she ain’t gettin’ any.”

It tugs a moan from your throat, especially when he drags as much slick as he can up to circle your tightest hole. He feels the way you flutter with apprehension, and he leans back down to kiss the corner of your jaw.

“Gonna get you nice and ready, I promise. M’not gonna hurt you, baby girl.”

“Thank you, da–” You almost lost yourself there for a second–almost laid your whole hand of cards out on the table for him to see. You try not to get flustered over the slip–you simply clear your throat and try again. “Thank you, Joel.” But you aren’t nearly as smooth as you hope to be.

In a flash Joel’s free hand is lifting your head, forcing you to look into his deep brown eyes. They’re so much darker than normal, and it only serves to make you wetter.

“What’d you call me?”

“J-Joel.”

His hand slips down to your throat and gives it a warning squeeze–his jaw is set, you know he isn’t playing. “Try again, and tell the truth this time.”

“D… daddy.”

You try to hide your face, to cower in shame, but he won’t let you. He smashes his lips to yours at the exact second his first finger probes that tight, waiting entrance.

“Good girl,” he murmurs as he slowly breaches you, using your own slick to guide the way. “Wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You can’t do anything but gasp, hands clutching for dear life to the edge of the counter. This feels different, and not in the way you were expecting it to. It’s tight, sure, and it feels foreign, but it also feels so much better than you ever could’ve expected it to. The subtle stretch around his thick finger is addicting.

Joel’s jaw drops at the expression on your face; you already look so thoroughly fucked-out, and he’s barely even started. “Fuck.You like this, hmm? Like feelin’ daddy’s fingers gettin’ you ready for his big cock?”

The only response he gets is a wrecked little whimper, and he props your chin up again to meet his heated gaze. “Talk to me. Gotta talk to me, tell me how you’re feelin’, or I’m gonna stop.”

“Fuck!” It’s shriller than you want it to be and you would feel pathetic if you weren’t so thoroughly overwhelmed with this new sensation. “Don’t stop daddy!”

“Feels good, yeah? How long has daddy’s little slut wanted to try this?”

But there’s no way you can be expected to answer, not when he’s adding another finger to the onslaught. Not when your legs are already shaking and you’re thinking about just how many fingers he’s going to have to use to get you ready for the massive cock you can feel throbbing against your thigh.

He retracts just as suddenly as he started, and a needy little whine escapes from your throat involuntarily.

He can’t help chuckling as he reaches for the bottle of KY jelly he’d dug out of his bag while you were getting him water. It feels like it’s been years since you left the room on that little errand for him–definitely not the barely ten minutes it’s actually been.

“Relax, baby girl. I’m comin’ right back.”

You feel the cool drizzle of the water-based substance over your hole and it forces another whine from your throat. It’s met with his thick fingers again, spreading the jelly over your hole before plunging two in knuckle-deep.

“Atta girl.” His voice is thick and sweet as honey as he slowly works his fingers, thrusting and scissoring at an achingly slow pace. “Doin’ so good f’me.”

“Daddy–”

“I know,” he coos. “I know, it’s so much, isn’it?”

All you can manage to do is nod your head, arms shaking under the strain of holding yourself upright. He sees the way your limbs tremble and he adds a third finger just to be extra cruel–although he steadies you by grabbing your hip firmly with his free hand, keeping you in place as he fucks you open with his fingers.

Everything is so hot. There’s a sticky sheen of sweat covering your forehead and your chest; you can feel your own slick dripping down your thighs.

And then his free hand drops down to thumb at your clit, and everything twists in your gut so fast it nearly gives you whiplash.

Within seconds you’re coming–no pretense, no warning. It explodes white-hot from your belly and sweeps through you to the tips of your fingers and toes with flash flood speed. One second there’s nothing more than pleasant anticipation–the next, you’re shaking and convulsing and sobbing Joel’s name as you fight with every cell in your body to remain upright.

He does his part to work you through it, thumb swiping even circles on your sensitive clit, pulling his fingers from you to pin you in place on the counter so he can continue working you through it.

“I know, I know,” he coos so sweetly in your ear over the sound of your moans and cries. “You’re doin’ so good baby, let yourself have it.”

It’s minutes before you’re breathing normally again–your legs are cramping from trying so desperately to support your shaky weight. Joel’s hands are soothing you the whole time once he lets up the onslaught on your clit; it’s like he’s mapping you, tracing over every dip and curve so tenderly you could almost forget what this encounter really is.

“Doin’ okay?” He husks into your ear–and then he’s folding himself over you again, and you can feel the insistent press of his hard cock against the curve of your ass.

For some reason, that’s what really makes it sink in. That’s the moment you realize that this is actually going to happen–that you want it to happen. Joel’s about to take something from you that no one has ever taken before, and you want him to. You’re offering it willingly, even.

You hum in response and buck your hips back, giving him a delicious taste of friction that pulls a ground from his throat. “Mhm. I’m ready, daddy.”

“Fuck, that’s my girl.” He gives your hip a light pat before pulling away for a moment, and you somehow have the presence of mind to jump up on the deep countertop because you know your legs won’t be able to support you through what’s about to happen.

There’s a smile on his handsome face when he turns back towards you, lube and condom in hand. “That how you want it, baby?”

Despite everything that’s already happened, you feel so much more exposed like this. You’re completely naked, and he’s fully clothed with his pants shoved down just enough to free his dick. Even as you spread your legs to admit him between your thighs, you feel shy. And he senses it, the slight apprehension in your gaze, because his smile softens even further; he sets the lube and condom down on the counter next to you so he can grasp the collar of his worn t-shirt and tug it up over his head.

He’s beautiful for a nearly forty-year-old man, you think. He’s firm and toned, but there’s a softness about him that you can’t help admiring, especially around his belly. Your eyes eagerly lap up the soft curve of his tummy, following the tantalizing promise of his treasure trail to his cock, hard and aching for you. The ruddy, flushed tip is weeping for you; you don’t know that you’ve ever seen someone so turned on before, and it’s a heady rush of power.

He chuckles as he sees your hungry eyes taking him in–he raises one big hand to cup your chin and pull your gaze up to meet his. “You’re so pretty, baby, look so good spread out f’me like this. You sure you’re ready f’this?”

“Fuck yes,” you say with an alluring little wiggle of your hips, and that’s more than enough for him.

He pulls his bottom lip between even rows of shiny white teeth as he rolls the condom down over his length, and it’s actually intimidating like this. He’s so big and imposing and it makes your legs want to close, but–

“M’gonna go slow, okay?” He vows, voice gentle as his big, brown eyes look into yours. His fingers wrap tightly around the half-used tube of KY jelly, and he leans down to kiss you when he sees the nervous gulp that bobs your throat. “Gonna be real gentle, I promise. You tap out at any time and we’re done, ‘kay?”

“Okay,” you affirm, and you feel a lot better. As out of the blue as this is, as little as you really know Joel, you can tell he’s being sincere. You trust him; you know he won’t hurt you.

The first press of his aching tip against your hole is enough to make you choke on a gasp. He’s big, and even with all of his attentive prep work to get you ready for him it’s a tight fit. You can tell it’s affecting him, too. His eyes flutter shut and he bites down hard on his bottom lip, and you can tell that he’s fighting with all his strength not to just shove himself deep inside you. You appreciate his restraint more than words can convey, so you don’t even try; you hook your arms around his neck and pull him in for a deep, messy, desperate kiss instead. His tongue licks eagerly into your mouth as he eases his hips further and further towards yours, and it’s a nice distraction from the nearly overwhelming stretch of your muscle trying to accommodate his girth.

He shudders when his hips finally meet yours, cock stuffed to the hilt into your ass. “God damn baby, you’re so fuckin’ tight. You doin’ okay?”

You whine at the first roll of his hips, nodding your head rapidly because words won’t come. It’s such a foreign sensation, being stretched and breached like this. Not unpleasant necessarily, but so brain-scramblingly different that all you can do is dig your nails into his strong, broad shoulders and hold on for dear life as he actually starts to fuck into you.

It’s nasty, and you’ve never been so wet in your life. You hear the sticky squelch of lube as he thrusts his hips, shoving his cock deeper than you imagined possible. Your own wetness seeps from your neglected cunt and drenches him, dripping down around his cock and wetting the dense curls at the apex of his sex.

“Shit baby, you’re takin’ daddy’s cock so well,” he whines breathlessly; one arm hooks under your knee so he can spread you open a bit wider for him, and then the other hand returns to your puffy, arousal swollen clit.

You make what has to be the most high-pitched sound you’ve ever made as his index and middle fingers start a torturously slow pace on the little bud. “Fuck daddy!”

“I know,” he coos–you think that soft, breathy, Southern twang is going to actually put you in your grave. “I know, you wanna come, dontcha? It’s okay baby, daddy’s gonna make you come all over his cock just the way you need.”

His hips pick up the pace in time with his fingers, and all you can do is lay there limply like a ragdoll. The pleasure is so much different than what you’re used to, but it’s good. It’s amazing, the feeling of him balls deep in your guts in tandem with his ministrations on your clit, in a way you never imagined it could be.

“Such a good fuckin’ girl f’me,” he growls, hitching your leg a bit higher over his hip so he can thrust even deeper. “Fuck, m’not gonna last long like this. You’re gonna make daddy come so hard in this tight little ass.”

His words are accentuated with a little smack to the side of your ass, and it makes you moan louder still. Your head rolls back as he picks up the pace of his fingers, swirling hard and messy circles with reckless abandon. He’s not trying to prolong it anymore–he’s going for the kill.

“Fuck daddy!” Your hands scrabble for purchase on his smooth, freckled skin as he pounds harder into you. “W-want it, please, want you to come in my ass–”

“Gonna give it to you, impatient girl,” he growls deep in his chest. “You gimme one first.”

Your entire body jolts when he brings his hand down on your sensitive cunt before groaning at the way your arousal sticks to his hand and makes his fingers shine.

“She wants t’be stuffed so full, doesn’t she?” He purrs, fingers dancing so fucking teasingly around your fluttering cunt that it makes your eyes water. “Bet she’d love to be chock full’a cock right now.”

“Joel–”

“Now, now, baby, no whinin’. It’s unbecomin’ for such a sweet little lady,” he grunts, and the condescension dripping from his tone is almost enough to make you come on its own. “You’re gonna take what I give you and be grateful for it, aintcha?”

“Yesyesyesplease–”

His fingers have barely returned to your clit before you’re coming again. This one is even more powerful than before–a hurricane instead of a flash flood. Your entire body trembles with the ebbing flow of pleasurable waves–the words you’re panting aren’t even discernible English anymore.

The way you clench and flutter around him in your own pleasure pulls him over the edge faster than anything ever has before. He comes hard, chest clenching hard around his breath, cock twitching more violently than anything you’ve ever felt before as he spills his load into the condom.

It’s a long, breathless moment before he pulls himself from the vice-like grip you have around his dick. He pulls out with a deep, long groan–it makes you giggle, because it’s the most over-dramatic sound you’ve ever heard in your life.

There’s a beat, and then he starts laughing, too. At the sweet sound of your laugh, at the way he feels like he just ran a marathon, at the absolute absurdity of this whole thing. His laughter is so sweet and gut-deep and infectious, and it only serves to make you laugh harder. For a good few moments it’s just you and Joel, half naked, panting and sweaty, doubled over in laughter.

And then the bathroom door swings open and Tommy barges in. 

“I’m feelin’ a helluva lot better after sleepin’ in, what’s so funny–” He stops dead in his tracks; he sees you naked and spread out on the counter and Joel disheveled and sweating. Neither of you are laughing very much anymore as you both scramble to cover yourselves up.

Tommy quirks a brow, a smirk spreading across his lips as his eyes dart back and forth between you and Joel. “Well, well, well. What have we here?”

You don’t know how to answer when you’re so mortified, so you do the only thing you can think of–you dart out of the room and down the hall to the safety of your bedroom as fast as your shaky legs can carry you.

➔ beta: @fhatbhabie dividers: @saradika-graphics

➔ Want to see more from me in the future? Follow @freelancearsonist-updates and turn on post notifications to be notified when I post new fics!

➔ Want to support me? Please reblog this fic! It helps boost it in the algorithm and gives it more circulation no matter what your follower count is :) any feedback or comment is always greatly appreciated!!

[bomber-grl]

General Percy Jackson dating hc⋆°🌊

~ ⋆｡‧𖦹 Percy Jackson x Gn!Reader(no pronouns)

Percy is so sassy

I think we as a fandom have established that, however sometimes you underestimate how far he’ll go.

No matter how long you’ve been dating he’ll still be sassy 😔😭

Of course it’s downgraded though

He chose mercy today

Anyway

Although he can get sassy sometimes, there is without a doubt that he loves you.

If there are 100 people who love you Percy is one of them. 1 person who loves you? Percy is that person

Zero? Percy is dead

He absolutely adores you, even if he can be a big idiot sometimes.

Now, when the two of you got together it was pretty much the same as when you were friends

Just romantic

You’d get reminded of your relationship when he calls you his girlfriend/boyfriend/partner

Especially in front of others

Or when he starts holding your hand and kissing you

It’s definitely a change

But not necessarily a bad one

Hes the type of guy to make being your boyfriend his whole personality

(Not actually but let me explain)

He’ll def wear those shirt with “I love my [insert your preferred title]

And he won’t care who sees it 😭

He’s proud no matter what

And is an absolute menace if anyone says anything about it

Or to you, for that matter

He’s powerful and we all know that

You can obviously defend yourself however sometimes he just can’t hold back

If anything were to ever happen to you

Let’s just say the opposing side will be as if it never existed.

I don’t see Percy as the jealous type ngl

I’ve seen many others say he would be and I think he could be, but only sometimes

He knows you’re just as loyal to him as he is to you

However if he sees anyone flirt and you don’t notice or tell them to back off-

He will for you

He won’t hesitate to slide an arm around your waist and ask what the hell the other person is doing with a raised eyebrow

He sasses the other person so much he leaves no room for argument 😭

Percy trusts with everything he’s got

So if you were to ever betray him he’d be crushed

Especially if you really know him

Just don’t betray him 🤷‍♀️

Percy follows you around all the time when he’s got nothing to do

He’s strong and independent

…wheeennn he’s away from you

He’s always by your side

And he loves to spend time with you too

He can’t say goodbye without hugging or kissing you

That’s a definite quirk of his

He’s technically not supposed to exist but it makes you glad he’s the only demigod child of Poseidon

And the only other person who shares his cabin is Tyson, so that way you two can sleepover and cuddle.

Ofc you guys get to actually do that once Tyson stops talking to you guys 😭

Only when Tyson goes off do you guys have time to chill in his cabin and the sleepovers you have are almost endless

I say almost because you eventually got caught by the harpy’s and luckily Chiron came in time to prevent you guys being ripped to shreds :,)

Before all that happened tho, you and Percy would cuddle and you’d play with Percy’s hair

He LOVES having his hair played with and his scalp massaged

And he accidentally insinuates that he misses that the most out of you getting banned from his cabin

The audacity for him to miss your massages rather than your presence

He let you have his share of desert as an apology for as long as you want 😭😭

You felt guilty so eventually you stopped 😭

If you are a sword fighter like him, you both often spar together.

You hit two birds with one stone

You practice your skills, and get to hang out together

What could be better?

Even then, if you specialize with daggers or a spear then it still works out

Sorry if you’re an archer 😭

Before you’re even introduced to Sally she already loves you!

And vise versa

Percy talks so much about you guys to each other that you practically already met her

And she already knew about you before you guys even started dating 😭

Percy told her (albeit a bit reluctantly) that he had a crush and the rest was history

When you finally meet it’s an automatic click and the both of you hit it off

Honestly Percy’s happy to see two of the most important people in his life getting along.

So, we’re all aware of how much of a menace Percy is, right?

Well he absolutely teases the fuck out of you

If that’s how you’re comfortable with

It’s not bad but it’s definitely silly and makes you smile at his antics, especially when you’re pretending to be mad at him 😭

You’re so weak for him lol

As is he for you

Mans is a simp and a so called “free thinker”

That changes when you step into the room and start talking to him

So after you guys got banned from going into each others cabins for unplanned sleepovers you guys had to make the most of the time you had together during the day

Just imagine an innocent camper walking by and seeing “beat ares, stopped two wars” Percy

The thing is, Percy is absolutely putty in your hands and has his head resting on your lap with your hands in his hair

Some would usually tease but with his reputation nowadays, nobody dares

With the exception of close Ally’s and ofc, Clarisse

It’s little moments that get you guys closer than ever like when there’s campfires and you can just enjoy the moment

Or when you can go into the lake

Which is where you guys had your first kiss

And it was sweet and spontaneous

And then awkward afterwards because of the walk back to your cabins 😭

Even then Percy gave you a quick peck and ran off

Best believe he was kicking his feet once he got back to his cabin 😭

you awoke the next day with being the new hot gossip in camp so that was… interesting

Anyway

I’m aware that I’ve made Percy to be a bit a menace

Although he is exactly that on the regular-

He really does care about you

Sometimes whenever he looks at you he can’t help but think about how lucky he got

He’s glad to have met you and tries his best to let you know at every chance he gets

Even if the things he might say come off as cringe, he means it

Maybe to a less cringey extent tho lolol

Bro can’t help it, he’s a romantic at heart

But only ever for you

[scoutpologist]

NO PRONOUNS FAQ

How do I even do that?

There are multiple methods for referring to those who use no pronouns, shown below. (Examples here taken from this page, a very good resource.)

Use names or initials instead of pronouns

I talked to him yesterday → I talked to Sky yesterday.

She is really beautiful → Soph is really beautiful.

Her graduation starts soon → J's graduation starts soon.

Passive voice

He answered the phone → The phone was answered.

Wen takes good care of her cat → Wen's cat is well cared for.

Rephrasing the sentence (circumlocution)

Lior did it all by himself → Lior did it all without any help.

Gael talks in his sleep → Gael talks while sleeping.

Replacing a pronoun with a descriptive noun or phrase

She landed the plane safely → The pilot landed the plane safely.

This is Lea, she is into painting → This is Lea. My friend is into painting.

She argues that… → The person who started this discussion argues that…

Dropping pronouns

Did you buy Tex her gift? → Did you buy Tex a gift?

Yes, I bought it for her. I will give it to her tomorrow. → Yes, I bought it. I will give it tomorrow.

Why not just use they/them?

For many people who use no pronouns, the issue with they/them pronouns is the implication of a neutral gender rather than no gender. Nonbinary people have often been lumped into a “third gender” category, and for agender/genderless people, this feels just as restrictive as having to “settle for” a binary gender. They/them pronouns can feel like being forced into another category, especially as the popular perception of people outside the binary has become a monolith, and can be very dysphoria-inducing.

Who can use no pronouns? 

Anyone! Most commonly, this specific way of expressing oneself is used by agender/genderless people, but anyone can use no pronouns if that’s what that person wants. 

Can I include you in group pronouns? (Example: They all went to the beach.)

It’s up to the person whether or not that’s alright, but I’d wager most of us would say that yes, that’s fine! It can’t hurt to ask.

Are second person pronouns alright to use?

Same as above. Most would find it perfectly fine, but if there’s ever doubt, please ask!

Isn’t that transphobic? 

When asked for sincerely, this is not transphobic. Some transphobic people might say they “don’t have pronouns” in order to make fun of trans people. There is a big difference between someone genuinely stating their preferred pronouns (or lack thereof) and being transphobic. 

Are you trolling?/Is this satire?

No, this is not a joke or an attempt at making anyone look bad. If you asked if this is satire, I also urge you to take a look at what satire actually is and it’s history as a form of comedy. Trolling and bait are not satire.

Aren’t you harming the community with this?/This will make transphobes think we're stupid!

I am, by definition, a trans person just trying to be comfortable. I am part of the community. While people inside the community can definitely harm it, expressing myself in a way that makes me most comfortable is not harmful towards anyone. If transphobes think I'm stupid, I can't stop them. They'll think I'm stupid no matter what.

How do I try these out for myself? I think this might be for me!

Here's a website that allows the user to input a name and ask for no pronouns in a sample sentence. No matter your conclusion, I wish you the best on your journey of discovery!

[hidden-poet]

Commander Snow; 9

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

Editor: @hotline-to-hell

chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter three

Chapter four

Chapter five

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

chapter 9

When you woke in the morning, the feeling of crushing weight had been released from your chest. The cold mountain air was easy to breathe, and you were now at ease with your loved ones so close. 

It had been three weeks since you had escaped. Not a soul had bothered you here. The mountain was too steep and difficult to search. 

You felt safe with Edmund here. Like the nightmare was finally over. 

Each morning when you woke, Edmund was the first you would look for. You often found him just outside your cabin door by the campfire.

This morning was no exception. 

“Good morning,” he greeted. He was chopping large blocks of wood into smaller pieces for the fire.

“Hey. Did you need a hand?” You walk down the steps of the cabin to where he worked. 

“Sure. Can you make a pile from the wood?”

You trip over the sole of your broken boot. They were too old to survive the mountains. Edmund stops his work to watch you trot over, trying to kick your shoe back in place.

“I was going to go down later this morning to pick up some more flour, and fruit. I’ll see if Vincent’s daughters have any spare shoes.”

You hated when he went down the mountain to get more supplies. Always sure that he wouldn’t return.

“I’d prefer it if you didn’t,” you comment.

“Even if they’re not your size, it’d be better than what you got.”

“I meant to go down. It’s dangerous. Peacekeepers are still looking for us.”

“Ah, I’ll be right.” Edmund takes up his work again, swinging the ax down, “They’re looking in the wrong spots anyway. I had Frances tell a guard you were hiding in the canal beneath the wash house. They’ll be searching for weeks.”

You imagine Coriolanus wading through dirty water and laugh at the thought.

“In any case. My shoes will be fine. I don’t want you wasting your money on me.”

“My money? It’s you who got Snow to send the money to your mother. Boy, was I glad to get that letter!”

He stands tall and pulls an imaginary letter out of his pocket, pretending to read it.

“Dear Edmund, I think of you every day. Wishing, wanting, waiting for you to come to me. I dream about how handsome you are. Strong and smart too.”

You laugh at him. 

“I think Snow wrote that one.”

He laughs with you but all too soon the mood turns back somber.

“I was really worried about you, you know? We all were."

He reaches out to take your hand into his. 

“I was so worried about you!” You twist his hand so you can place a kiss on the back of it. 

“I kept thinking about you trapped with him. I had no idea what he was doing to you.”

You knew what he was insinuating and the thought of it made you shudder. You were his. Would he want you less if he believed that Coriolanus had already touched you? Was that why he had reverted to treating you like a kid? He hadn’t touched you like lovers do since you have been here. Was it because Coriolanus had already marked his territory?

You push his hand away, irritated at the thought. 

“He didn’t do anything to me.”

He reaches back and brushes over the almost healed bruised spots on your neck. You recoil in embarrassment. The night in the kitchen fills your mind. You felt a pool of embarrassment form in your stomach. You should have hated it all but as you remember it, your legs squeeze tighter. It felt good, and you didn't feel like  a victim because of it. 

“You know it doesn’t matter. What he did or didn’t do. It doesn’t change anything.”

“Shut up,” you beg. “Let's just agree to never talk about him again. He’s gone, or will be. Dead to the district and to us.”

“Okay,” Edmund agrees. “I am sorry.”

 You felt bad for lashing out at him when he was only trying to help. You had promised yourself just days ago to be the best thing that had ever happened to him. 

“I’ll go cook breakfast, alright? ‘’

Edmund had caught some fish just yesterday. Even scaled and prepared them for you. And this is how you repaid him?

You go back into the cabin and start to warm up the hot plate in the corner. Coriolanus was far away, yet he still seemed to haunt you. Sometimes you felt his fingertips graze your skin. 

He came to you at night mostly, when Edmund wasn’t around to distract you.

You would wake up swearing that you could feel his weight on top of you. You would wake up checking for bruises from where he held you down but your skin was clear. 

You thought the clear air would push him out but he was stuck and you couldn’t shake him out. 

Would it always be like this? Would your life with Edmund be plagued by thoughts of Coriolanus?

 No. You just need to focus more on Edmund. Time would take care of the rest.  

You push any other thought apart from cooking the fish out of your head. Preparing the food to perfection would exonerate you from your earlier thoughts. 

—- 

Nights were colder up in the mountains then at the compound. Edmund lent you a jacket but it did little to keep out the cold. It added to your sleep troubles. Some nights you would only get an hour or two. Some nights you wouldn’t sleep at all. 

You toss and turn next to your mother, trying not to wake her. You felt unsettled. Too unsettled to sleep. 

Edmund slept on the floor beside you thinking that it might help you sleep. 

You found yourself wanting to be held. After nights with Coriolanus you had gotten used to being coddled. 

You move off the bed and onto the floor next to Edmund. 

“Hey, stranger,” he whispers. 

A lazy arm is thrown over you but it isn’t enough. 

You push closer. “Tighter,” you demand. 

He obliged but it still wasn't enough. Coriolanus would hold you so tight, you felt like it was hard to breathe. You used to hate it but as it turns out you can’t sleep without it. 

Edmund smelt nicer. A soft woody smell. 

He treated you nicer too. Let you choose what you did. You could be angry with him if you chose to. He wouldn’t seek to punish you for it. 

Coriolanus tried to buy your love. Edmund tried to earn it. 

You would learn to sleep without needing to be held in time. 

In the meantime Edmund would be there to support you.

—-----

You sit with Edmund by the campfire while the others sleep. Edmund had paid a informant handsomely to relay District information. He came once a week, late at night to avoid being caught. 

You throw a stick into the fire, your boredom and irritation building the longer it takes. 

“Do we have enough money for him to keep coming up here to tell us the same thing? Peacekeepers are still searching, Snow’s angry. I could tell you that.”

“Roger has his use.  He only needs to give us one piece of crucial information to make the money worth it.” 

“And if we run out before he gives it to us?”

Edmund throws his own stick in the fire, watching it burn. 

“We’ll be right. We still have the three panams from Snow. I have a little left in savings, by the time all that runs dry, it’ll be mining season again.

“Mining season? Surely this will be over by then. We can’t hide here amongst everyone.”

“What choice do we have, Y/N? The Peacekeepers haven’t let up. We can’t go back to the District. When you mine together, you become family. They wouldn’t betray me.” 

Betray him, sure. But you were no one to them. You open your mouth to argue this point but the sound of kicked rocks draws your attention. 

A little man in gray, worn clothing and a cap covering his bald head is lightened by the fire. 

“You’re late.” Edmund comments. 

“Yeah well, Peacekeepers have doubled patrolling the area at night. I come late or I don’t come at all.” 

“Well?” Edmund pushes. He stands up with the coins in his hands. 

“Ravenstill’s dead. Snow’s gone back to the Capitol,” the man spits out on the grass before continuing talking, “Saw him get on the train this mornin’ myself.” 

You sigh in victory. He was gone. Now all that was left was to wait out the attention span of the Peacekeepers. 

“Hold on now. I didn’t say he was staying away. Peacekeeper tells me he’ll be back by the time the week is out with the new Commander.”

“But then he’s gone, right? District 12 can’t have two Commanders?” You rise next to Edmund. 

The older man shrugs his shoulders. “Maybe. He’s offering a large reward for your capture.” 

“Yeah, well I’m offering your life.” Edmund’s voice is hard and threatening. He throws the coin pouch at the man who catches it. 

“Settle, boy. I ain't no traitor. I am just saying it seems unlikely that he would offer up such a price only to walk away.” 

“Keep us updated on the movements of Snow and the areas the Peacekeepers are targeting.”

The man opens the coin pouch to look inside before nodding his head and turning back the way he came.

You take hold of Edmund’s arm. You worried for his fate if you were found. You worried for your own fate. He was unbearable when you failed to escape. Now you have succeeded, what laid ahead if you were to return?

—------

You began to have nightmares of Coriolanus finding you. You would wake with your mother's arms wrapped around you, and Edmund calling your name. 

The dreams always ended the same, no matter how they started; with everyone dead at your feet. 

You would run and hide from him in the forest like the night at the cabin. He would find his way into the cabin late at night and crawl on top of you while your protectors slept. One time he dropped from the sky. 

But you woke to find he hadn’t found you yet.

You avoided going to sleep. Your mother joined in solidarity, despite your protests. She would stay up with you to chase the bad thoughts away. 

Edmund's mother stayed up too. She didn’t want to be the only adult asleep. 

You all wait for the update Roger will bring. 

You sit next to Edmund watching the flames. You don’t hear the man approaching until Edmund's mother greets him. The man offers a head nod back but his attention is for Edmund. 

“Peacekeepers are still searching. Mainly in the city blocks. Rumor that she was seen selling cupcakes in town.” 

You scoff at the thought. At least it kept the Peacekeepers preoccupied. 

“Alright,” Edmund throws the money to Roger but the man doesn’t disappear, “Was there something else?” 

“Her brother,” your heart stops beating. “They got him locked up in the Capitol jail.” 

You shoot up from the log in a panic. 

You feel Edmund grab your hand but can’t hear the words that he is telling you. 

“It’s alright. It’s alright,” he finally breaks through, “They won’t hurt him. He’s all the leverage they’ve got.” 

“God. Edmund, what if they do? It’ll be my fault.” Your tears choke you as you speak.

“They won’t. He’ll be safe, okay. He wouldn’t kill him unless he knew you knew.” 

“What are we going to do? I have to go back. He’ll let him go if I-”

“Don’t be stupid. If you go back now, he’ll use Archie to keep you in line forever.” 

“We can’t leave him there.”

“We won’t. If he wants the presidency he’ll have to go back to the Capitol. We wait him out, and when the new Commander comes, he’ll see Archie was kept for no reason and we will buy him back.” 

Your mother sat sobbing and you joined her. 

Dear God, what have you done?

“From what I was told, they ain't hurt him.”

“See?” Edmund says, “So long as you stay hidden, there would be no point in hurting him.” 

Edmund’s mother comes over and wraps her arms around her elder son. Archie was special to her too. 

You had put all her sons in danger. In her heart, there was no more room for you.

—------------

The news of Archie’s arrest had dampened spirits. The days were long and everyone was irritable.

Edmund feared for his friend. You feared for your brother.

He had spent all his life protecting you, now only for you to get him killed. You wished you were still a little girl waiting by the door for your older brother to come home from work. It was a similar feeling to now. The dread of him not coming home filled you.

You wondered how Coriolanus got him on the train. Was it under threat? Did he beat Archie into submission? Or did he lie and deceive Archie?

Your mother was adamant that his capture was not your fault. Even if that was true, Archie’s detention was. You knew Coriolanus would let you trade yourself for your brother. But Edmund was right, if you folded now your family would always be ready for capture to be used against you.

Edmund’s mother was less sympathetic to it all. You had dragged her family into this and now the boy she considered a third son was rotting in jail because you were too precious to submit to the Commander like the rest of District 12.

She was cold to you, never speaking directly to you and only offering glaring stares. Being treated so terribly oddly felt validating. People should be angry with you. You had put them in danger.

You look at Edmund's little brother across the other side of the campfire. He clung to his mother's skirt, resting his head on her lap. He was just a boy, you couldn’t bear it if a hair on his head was harmed. And yet you have asked him to hide in a mountain with you. Leave his school and his friends behind.

No one had spoken for hours as you sat together around the camp, so when Edmund moved suddenly it caught everyone's attention. 

He shoots up from where you rested upon him on the log to gaze out as smoke ringlets circle the sky. 

“Get your things. Make sure to leave nothing behind.”

None of you move, perplexed at his outburst. 

“Now!” he shouts, “Move!” 

His anxiety caused you all to jump up and follow his command. He kicks dirt over the campfire to make it look unused while the rest of you pack what little you have. 

 You came with nothing so you focused on the pots and pans, and stripping the beds. 

He joins you as you work with his mother and brother to clean their room. 

“What’s going on?” His mother demands but doesn’t stop her work of shoving clothes into a sack held by her youngest son. 

“Peacekeepers are searching the mountains.” 

“Where are we going to go?” you panic. They would search all of the mountains. 

“The mines. They won’t search there. Too unstable for people who don’t know what they are doing.” 

He takes the bag of pans off you and throws it over his shoulder. 

The mines were a dangerous place to hide, and there was no certainty that the Peacekeepers wouldn’t search them. If they did you would be trapped. They would just keep pushing forward until your group reached a dead end.

Nevertheless, Edmunds leads the group to the trail that leads into the mines. 

You couldn’t decide what would be worse, dying by a Peacekeeper or in a mine like your father. 

But with Edmund’s hand in yours, at least the rocks of the mountain would let you keep him. The Peacekeepers would tear you from him only in death. 

Even with the bags of stuff, the trail is tread quickly.

The cave is dark and so, so cold. You hide in the shadows with your group. Edmund stands to the front once he has herded the group into safe standing. 

It is completely silent for what feels like a lifetime. Nothing but the birds in the trees and the wind. It lulls you into a false sense of security. Maybe Edmund was wrong. Maybe his source on the other side was mistaken and blew the smoke prematurely. But soon a distant sound of heavy tire treads could be heard rolling up the hill.

You ignored the first sign of people approaching. But as they got heavier and the talking got louder, it got harder to assure yourself that you wouldn’t be found.

You clutch Edmund's arms. You feel it move to reach for the pocketknife in his pocket. 

Peacekeepers call to each other. They were close, you could hear clearly as they spoke. 

“Hey, let's go.”

“Commander Snow said every inch”.

“You lookin’ to get killed? Those mines collapse all the time.” 

You hold your breath waiting. Should you walk out now to save everybody else?

“Come on, man. No one’s here. We’ve still got half the forest to get to. Come on.”

You feel Edmund relax under you as the Peacekeepers walk away. 

None of you move. The threat remains in the woods. None of you were safe until the Peacekeepers were out of the woods and had reported to Coriolanus that nothing was there. 

The mountains were large, you wondered how many Peacekeepers had been spared to search it. Even if thirty men, it would take a whole day at least.

It was a whole day spent in the cave, waiting for the Peacekeepers to come back. But no sound was ever heard.

Night falls before Edmund makes the call to investigate. 

His mother kisses him before he leaves. 

You cringe under her stare. You had put her baby boy in danger. It was your fault that she now had to hide in the mountains away from her home. 

It will be a rocky start once all of this is over. How could you work to earn back her affection after all the pain you have caused her? 

Edmund's little brother had taken over the role of protector. He stood at the front of the cave, tall and fierce like his brother had. He clutched his knife and looked out into the night with a hunter's eyes.

Edmund was gone for hours but his little brother never tired of his role. If Peacekeepers turned up, the little boy was ready.

You watch over him as his mother makes what little she can from the food.

A dark figure cast into the cave, and you grab the little boy, pulling him back against you to protect him. It was too tall, too broad for Edmund. You shrink back into the shadows as it approaches, reaching down to pull the knife from the boy. On instinct, you open your mouth to scream but it is Edmund's voice that calls you. 

“They are gone. Cars are gone, and there are no markings to pick up the search. They won’t return.”

You shake the fear out of you and release Edmund's brother from your protective hold. 

Coriolanus had weaved himself into your mind. Every shadow; every sound was him. 

You needed Edmund to take his place, but he often acted like a ghost to you, touching you only in reproach. 

You wanted to keep something from Coriolanus' reach. To give some shred of you to Edmund that could never be given back. 

You started by hugging him tight. 

—---

You had decided to sleep with Edmund at the first opportunity after the scare yesterday.

It was hard to pin him down between his hunting, working around the camp, and his family. 

You felt like his shadow as you lingered, trying to single out his attention. 

He would offer you a smile every time you saw him but wouldn’t stop his work. 

You followed him into the woods but his brother would insist on coming to learn how to shoot. 

Back at camp, his mother blocked you from his attention. It seemed impossible to gain an audience with him. 

You tried to tell him what you wanted but the words would never form in your mouth. He was always too busy to hear them anyway. Telling you to wait until back at camp to tell him what you were trying to say. But camp was too crowded so you always pretended to forget what you wanted to say. 

It took three days of pining before the mothers took the washing to the lake. It would take them all day to rinse and dry the clothes and sheets. Normally you would go and help but today you had a goal in mind. 

You hide Edmund’s catch from this morning and tell Edmund’s brother that another animal had run off with dinner tonight. You had asked him to go catch fish but he was determined that he could catch actual prey. He was a hunter like his brother, he insisted. 

Whatever got him lost for a couple of hours. He didn’t actually have to catch anything but you hoped he did. You would boast about him at dinner. He was a good kid and deserved more attention. 

“Hey,” Edmund greeted you. He had gone to collect more firewood and you had grown impatient waiting for him to get back. 

“Where is everyone?” 

You don’t answer him. He looked so handsome, slightly covered in dirt from his work. 

You wanted this to be the moment you remember forever. If Coriolanus did find you, you wanted to at least have this memory of Edmund. 

He looks confused as you grab his arm and pull him into the cabin but follows your direction. 

You slam the door shut and push Edmund up against the wall, cementing your body like what had been done to you on so many occasions. 

You kiss him hard, letting him know how badly you need him. 

He stills you with a firm grip on your shoulders, tilting his head higher out of your reach. 

“What are you doing?” 

“I want it to be you. Not him.” Even on your tippy toes, you could not reach him. 

“Not now,” he scolds. 

“Yes now,” you refute, “I can feel him getting closer every day.” 

Edmund looks down upon you, taking your face gently in your hands. 

“You’re safe. He’s not going to get you. I’ll keep you safe.” 

You knew he would try but you felt Coriolanus in your bones. You knew he would catch you. 

“Please,” you whine. Your hands reach for his belt but he traps your hands. 

“You are not going to give me this under threat. He’s not going to persuade you to do something you’ve had the past few years to do yourself.” 

“I want to,” you protest. You manage to capture his lips again and he mercifully kisses back. 

His barrier was weak. You were sure you could break it down. His hands held your hips and not your wrists, almost giving you permission. 

“Edmund! Edmund!” The sound of his little brother's voice was heard only seconds before the door opened. 

You separate. Edmund looked almost relieved. He eyes you by his side but gives his attention to his brother. You had broken down his wall but he was saved by the bell. 

“Look!” the little boy proudly held up a small dead rabbit. You wished you insisted on the fish. 

“Good job, buddy.” Edmund moves from you to his brother, straightening his jacket as he walks. 

“I’ll help you dress it.”  Edmund doesn’t look at you as he leads his brother back out to the open. 

“I can do it!” The little voice demanded. 

“I know, buddy. But we can’t afford to lose any meat.”

You could cry at the sense of rejection. Edmund wouldn’t give you another opportunity. You had just wanted to show that you loved him but he would have to settle for words. 

—----

You were cold to Edmund the following days, even as you tried to let it go. You wouldn’t look at him as you passed him his meals. Would only speak to him to answer a question. You wouldn’t say more than what was needed. 

He still slept on the floor next to you despite your behavior.

You knew he was trying to protect you by his rejection but it stung. 

Coriolanus had made you feel desirable.  He performed extraordinary measures just for a kiss. And here you were throwing yourself at Edmund, begging him for just that, only to be tossed aside. 

Was Edmund's affections real or just a product of Coriolanus interference? 

You felt stupid for making the first move. You should have just forgotten the whole thing. Edmund was loyal. He just got confused, and you played the fool. Now you had put him in an uncomfortable situation that could risk any relationship with him after this ordeal. 

 You loved him but you should have stayed silent about it. 

Half of you hoped that Coriolanus would find you and take you away. Maybe Edmund would feel guilty about his rejection, and regret it. 

You roll over in bed towards where Edmund is lying on the floor. 

No, that’s not true. 

You’d rather be Edmund’s doormat than Coriolanus' bride.  

—---------

Coriolanus stood backstage at the presidential show. They would perform now for the audience. Answering questions, and charming the crowd. Coriolanus should feel on top of his game. He was known for being charming. It was all he had for the longest time. 

Augustus stood at the other side of the stage, Coriolanus could see him through gaps in the curtains talking to his campaign manager.

Coriolanus couldn’t bear to talk to anyone until he was forced to. 

His thoughts were occupied with you. All of the District was searched, and all he received from it was rumors. A few whispered leads but nothing to truly go on. 

He needed to shake you out so he could focus on his night. 

He hated you now more than ever. It was one thing to betray him, it was another to interfere with his presidential campaign. You should have been here now to support him. 

But instead, you had run off with another man. He should have killed Edmund when he had the chance. Coriolanus had kept him as a pawn but Edmund had turned himself into a knight. 

Lucky was warming up the crowd to introduce the candidates. Coriolanus couldn’t be thinking of this now. You were here. You had gone back to the apartment and he found you there. There was no hole in the fence Peacekeepers failed to find, and Edmund was dead. 

When he went back to the Snow penthouse tonight, he would find you there. Drinking tea with Grandma’am and Tigris. 

Coriolanus hears his name being called and he enters the stage with a smile.

District 12 was a small place, you couldn’t hide forever. Coriolanus would take the first train back tonight and follow every lead himself. 

—----------

You were adding spices to the stew when wildflowers popped up under your face. 

Edmund stood behind you with a shy smile. 

“I am sorry. Please stop being angry with me,” he begs. 

You take the flowers from him to show you are not hostile. 

“I am not angry. I just-” you pause your words unsure on what to say, “You haven’t kissed me or even really touched me since I’ve been here. If you don’t feel the same way that's fine, Just-”

“You’re really stupid. You know that?” he cuts you off. He takes a step towards you. You take it as an invitation to place your hands on his arms. 

“I’ve loved you since I can last remember. And you take me giving you a little space after you’ve just spent a ridiculous amount of time as a hostage to a man who thinks torturing is the same thing as courting, as a sign I ain't interested?”

You kiss him gently and he allows you to. Your heart swelled under his words. He loved you. 

“I meant what I said though. I ain't touching you under threat. When the time’s right, and it’s just the two of us, I’ll give you anything you want. But allow yourself to heal first. I don’t want you to regret anything.” 

You kiss him again to show your gratitude. 

“Thank you. I am sorry, Edmund. I love you.” 

“I love you too, stupid.” 

Coriolanus shakes Lucky Flickerman's hand as the crowd cheers for him. Presidency was close even if you were far.

—------

Despite not having a choice, camp life was agreeable. You worked closely with Edmund, helping him where you could and supporting him where you could not.

Your mother seemed happy too, despite her son being in the Capitol jail. But plans were already forming to get him out. And he was safe, or at least relatively safe. You had no idea what he faced but you knew it would not be death. Not yet. Not without Coriolanus knowing that you knew what had happened to him.

The new Commander of District 12 was sworn in yesterday. Coriolanus was there to hand over the title. Roger had said he seemed uptight and disinterested in the affair. You were sure Coriolanus would be gone soon.

Back to the Capital where he belonged. An air of victory floated around you. He would be president and you would return to District 12 where you belonged, but as Mrs. Flair.

You no longer had nightmares of Coriolanus. Soon this memory would fade into a distant dream.

But it all happened so fast; a loud banging noise woke you, and dozens of pairs of boots stomped across the floor. Edmund woke too, tried to fight them off but there were too many of them. All in protective gear and all with weapons. 

They drag him and your mother out. None of the Peacekeepers touch you even as you hit and yell. 

It was early morning, the sunlight had just been cast over the mountains but the ground was still frozen and wet with condensation. 

Edmund and your mother were thrown on the ground and held down while their hands were cuffed behind their backs. Edmund's mother and brother soon followed. 

You grapple with a Peacekeeper trying to cuff Edmund's hands. He does his best to avoid you but no one pulls you away. Your hands remain free and none of the Peacekeepers make a move to trap you. 

“Please,” you beg amongst the crying and Edmund’s yelling. 

You almost don't recognize him. His hair had grown out, and he wore an expensive red coat instead of his Commander uniform. 

But his eyes remained the same. Blue and fierce they gazed down at you. You had run straight past him without noticing.

You rush to him in panic, falling at his feet and grabbing his black pant leg in a tight hold. 

“Coriolanus, please,” you beg him, “Please I’ll go back. Just release them.”

He ignores you. Nodding to a Peacekeeper who takes a long length of rope from his belt and throws it over the branch of a tree. Another two bring Edmund to his feet, pushing him as he resists.

His mother wails, joining your begging. 

“No! No! Wait please!” They continue to set up the rope. 

“Coriolanus, please!” you had time to beg as the Peacekeeper does the knot. 

He continues to watch Edmund, listening to Edmund's insults rather than your cries. 

“Commander, please. I won’t ever do it again. I’ll be perfect.” 

He still ignores you. Not even glancing at you as you beg him from the dirt. 

“No, no.” The Peacekeeper finishes the knot and fastens it around Edmund's neck.

You go to reach him. You would hold him up if you had to, but Coriolanus caught you by your hair and held you in place. 

Edmund kicks like a fish out of water as the rope is pulled by two Peacekeepers on the other side. 

You pull against Coriolanus' hold, almost yanking your hair out trying to reach him.

Edmund looks at you as he struggles. His hold body shook, and he kicked at the air in hope. His lips half form your name but it never quite parts from his lips.

Coriolanus does let you go but it was too late. Edmund had stopped kicking. Stopped blinking. Stopped breathing. 

You run to him anyway, dropping where he hung. 

You reach out and touch his foot as it sways. 

“Kiss your mother goodbye, and let’s go.” His voice shoots ice down your spine. 

You wanted to scream and yell and cry, but you could do nothing but stare at the dirt in front of you. The sound of crying filled your ears. Dear god, this was all your fault. 

Coriolanus doesn’t ask you again, just grabs a fistful of hair and yanks you to movement. 

You felt too disorientated to fight back. 

He drags you past Edmund's crying mother and brother who couldn’t tear their eyes away from the tree. 

You wanted to reach out to say something, but Coriolanus was in a rush to get back to the Capitol. 

“Mum,” was all you could call out as you pass her.

He drags you along to a parked patrol car and throws you in the cage used for rebels. 

It felt as if the earth had swallowed you whole. There was no fight left in you. All you felt was despair.

Coriolanus had no pity for you. He barely glanced at you as he locked the cage and closed the door. 

You lay in the back in your borrowed nightdress and Edmund’s jacket. You bring it up to your face as you sob. He was dead. All hope of a happy future was gone with him. You would remain Coriolanus’ slave until the day you died.

The journey throws you around as they speed down the hill and back to the city section of the District. 

You sob the entire way. Edmund was dead because of you. Your brother was in jail. Your mother is now all alone in this world. You wanted to die too. It would be kinder than this existence. 

Edmund was dead because of you. His family left without their provider because of you. Your heart ached. Your grief suffocated you. You gasp for air but your sobs block any from reaching your lungs.

What have you done? Why did you think you stood a chance of escape?

You begged the universe to turn back time. You wouldn’t go to the jail. You were trying to do the right thing but your kindness had led to your world being ripped apart.

Why did you have to do it, you thought to yourself. Life could have been so sweet if you weren’t so foolish.

What would your life be like now? Coriolanus wouldn’t be taking you back to the Compound now there was a new Commander. Were you going to the Capitol so soon?

You had a hard time adjusting to life at the Compound. How would you ever survive the capital?

Would you survive the Capital? After Coriolanus had finished with you, would he keep you around after you had betrayed him?

He seemed a different man. Could he still say he was in love with you? Or has that game now ended?

The car stops at the train station. Talking and car doors slamming cut through the business of the station.

The harsh light enters when the door is yanked open by Coriolanus.

You don’t want to get out, hoping to get shot for your resistance. 

Coriolanus drags you out by your ankle, taking a tight hold of your arm as he gets you upright and pushes through onto the train. 

You don’t struggle against him as he leads you through the busy station. What would be the point?

You enter first class, and the doors get locked by maids behind you. 

The only word you can say is “no”, over and over again. 

This couldn’t be happening. Was this just another bad dream? Please, just let this be a bad dream. 

Coriolanus shoves you into a booth, and you slump against the window. He sits next to you trapping you in. You had no energy to move. Only sob against the cold glass. 

You should have just saved yourself the trouble and stayed. Why did you have to anger him?

With the most important passenger on board, the train moves out of the station. 

“Enough,” he tells you. But you couldn’t follow his command even if you tried. 

You watch the District shoot past you. How you wished you could open the window and throw yourself out. 

The rocks pass, and the trees begin to blur into one another. Coriolanus is silent for hours as you cry against the window still. 

You could feel him sometimes looking at you but otherwise, he just sat there. Fixing the jewelry he wore. A gold pinky ring with your ring stacked on top of it. His coat buttons were dipped in gold. He had a new watch, a present from Tigris for returning home. 

It was only when you shifted from the window and slumped over the table did he speak. 

“We were supposed to be in the Capitol weeks ago.” 

The Capitol. His presidential run. You had just lost everything you had ever known and he talks about being behind schedule.

You sit up to face him. He was no longer the Commander you knew but something far more fearsome.

“You think I care about the Capitol?!” You cry, “You took everything from me! You ruined my life,” you scream at him.

He grabs your jaw in his hand and pushes your head back against the glass. The glass is solid and cold as you are pressed against it.

“Your mother has joined your brother in the District 12 jail. I would be very careful what you say to me. Did you think this was a game? Did you think I wouldn’t search for you? Wouldn’t find you?” 

The door slides open and Coriolanus releases you. A servant walks in with breakfast, and another behind her with juice and pastries. 

They set the food and cutlery down in silence. You notice they don’t look up or around, only at what they are doing. 

Coriolanus doesn’t thank them as they leave. He doesn’t eat either. 

“Coriolanus, are they going to be okay?”

“We could have just left, Y/N. No one had to get hurt.”

You turn back to the window as you speak, “I know.”

The food sat at the table for five minutes untouched before Coriolanus called for it to be taken away again. The servants come quickly and the food is taken away in the same manner it was delivered; quickly and silently. 

“It’s three days to the Capitol.” he stands up as he spoke to you, “Two days after that they will announce the new president of Panem. Whatever this is, it’s finished. You do the slightest thing to displease me and your family will follow Edmund.” 

You flinch at his name. Edmund would haunt you for the rest of your days. You hoped he would. 

“Do you understand me?” he asks.

“Yes, Commander.” 

He flinches at the name but doesn’t comment. He clears his throat and walks away into the other carriage. 

You pick up on your crying again. You should have known that your rage only ever backfired on your loved ones. 

Your throat ached and your eyes were puffy, soon you had no more tears left to cry. 

You try a door to see where it leads but it must have a sensor on it because it didn’t open as easily as it did for Coriolanus. He had trapped you in the room. This was your life now. Waiting for Coriolanus to decide what to do with you.

You curl up on the seat and let the train lull you to sleep.

The servants must have come back in during your nap for when you woke the table was filled with food again. A large jug of water sat on the table. You finish all of it and lay back down again.

Coriolanus returns much later, around dinner time. 

“You’re still there,” he observes as the door lets him through. 

“Where else could I go?” 

His hand presses a large button and what you thought was a wall slides to reveal a bedroom. 

“You should wash up for dinner. You have dirt all over you.” 

You did want to take a shower, but you didn’t want to lose Edmund’s jacket. 

Coriolanus steps forward to grab you, but you rise upon seeing him move. Nothing he said was ever a suggestion.

The room was large, with a queen-sized bed decorated in a rich, heavy fabric of deep blue. There were four large pillows and a set of smaller ones with the Panem emblem on them.

A wall was built to hang clothes. You could only see three sets of Coriolanus’ clothing and a dress and a nightgown for you.

On the other side, there was door to a spacious bathroom. You had thought the commanders apartment bathroom was impressive but now you could see why the Capital looked down at the districts.

This bathroom alone was almost as big as the bedroom in the Commander's quarters. Beautiful gold and white titles lay across the floor. A white marble sink with a gold tap. You reach out to touch it.

‘‘Take your clothes off.” Coriolanus demanded. He reaches for the buttons on his own shirt causing the panic to rise in you again.

What would it matter what he did to you? But still, you felt too frozen to move.

He gets halfway through the buttons on his shirt to see you still dressed. His eyes darken as he reaches out to you.

You shrink back against the marble countertop as he yanks Edmund's jacket from your shoulders and throws it to the ground. Your eyes follow it there, as Coriolanus slips your borrowed nightdress off.

You expected more of a reaction from him after all this time. But he seems uninterested in your naked body. He takes your arm and pulls you to the shower head where he fiddles with the tap until the water is to his liking.

He throws you under the hot water while he finishes undressing. The clothes are left on the floor as he joins you in the shower.

You move out of his way to let him have the water but he pulls you back under and reaches for a soft sponge hanging against the wall.

“Look at you,” he mutters. He scrubs the sponge under your nails to get rid of the dirt that had caked under them.

Satisfied he scrubs the sponge up your arms to your neck and down your back. He scrubs too hard. It feels as if he is peeling off your skin.

He is quick along your stomach. Not spending too much time before moving on.

You flinch when he crouches down to scrub at your legs but he stops mid-thigh and returns to full height, dragging the sponge up your leg and resting on your left hip.

“Are you going to do it now?”  It was important that you were clean for him, you supposed.

He drops the sponge, using his hand to wrap around your throat and force you back into the glass.

You don’t look at him as he stares at you. He steps closer, wrapping his arm around your waist and bring you against him.

He rests his forehead against your collar bone, the steam filled the air and fogged your view. He is so still and silent. He had made no move to grope you. You couldn’t tell if he even looked at you. He just held you close and breathed deeply. 

The room became hard to breathe in as the water turned into steam. But you were too scared to voice even that complaint. He moved from your collar bone to rest his chin on your shoulder but then went still again. 

“Coriolanus?” His name was barely a breath on your lips. 

“I am so angry at you,” he said softly. You feel the hand on your throat tighten.

“How could you do that to me?’’ He lifts his head off of you to look you in the eye.

“Augustus has been opening hospitals and amongst the Capitol people, while I have been chasing you around District 12. Do you have any idea how that made me look?’’

You think of your family in jail as you speak. “I am sorry.”  

“You’re sorry? Not good enough.”

He looked so different with his blonde wet hair pressed down on his forehead. The ends curled slightly towards his face.

“You won, Coriolanus. What more do you want from me?”

“I don’t feel as if I have won. I feel as if I have been betrayed.”

Your eyes twitched with irritation. He felt betrayed? You were astonished you that he felt like the victim after causing you so much pain. He was the only bad thing to have happened. The cause of his own misery.

“You killed Edmund,” you sobbed, “You killed him.”

You bring a fist against his shoulder, but it landed without true force.

“I let him live once. Remember?”

The memory of target training at the train station flashes through your mind before you could block it.

“What made you think I would make the same mistake twice?”

He releases you to turn off the tap. You stood frozen as he dries himself.

His anger had lit yours so when he exited the bathroom, you followed, wet and dressed only in a towel.

“Edmund was a good man.”

Coriolanus was readying himself for bed. He spared you a irritated look.

“And now he’s a dead man.”

His sentence stung you.

You wiped the running tears off your eyes. “He was a good man,” you repeat.

He was the only man for you. The love of your life, now dead and gone.

“How did you know? Did Roger rat us out?” you ask.

“You did,” you wait for him to elaborate as he dresses in his pajamas, “Your letter to your brother. People disappear all the time up there.”

You feel your heart drop at his words. A new wave of guilt comes crashing over you.

“He was smart hiding there. He knew the area well. And the smoke signals? Very good. I never did find out who was sending them, but what use are they if you don’t see them.”

Was. Knew. No more.

 “Well enough to fool my Peacekeepers, but I thought, why would she put that in a letter to her brother? Unless it was to warn him. Why else tell him not to come back? You love your brother, of course you would want him back.”

Tears well in your eyes again.

“Is he okay? Have you hurt him?” you accuse.

“It would serve me no purpose to hurt him.”

His movements are hard and sharp as he puts on his satin button-up shirt.

“So you’ll release him? Both of them?” They served no purpose to him in the Capitol.

“When I can trust you again.” He spat.

It could be years before a paranoid Coriolanus decided he trusted you.

“You can trust me. I promise. I’ll make it up to you, just please let them go.”

You walk over to him, reaching out to touch him. It normally worked to disarm him. He is receptive to you, taking a hand and placing it against your face.

“You know why I can trust you? Because I have your family locked in a cage.”

He disappears along with his touch, going over to the cupboard and throwing a deep blue matching nightgown on the bed.

He says nothing else before returning to the dining room and leaving you in the bedroom alone.

You cry as you dress, and don’t stop as you throw the small pillows across the room and sink into the mattress.

Everything you did was wrong. People were hurt because you weren’t smart enough to protect them. Your mother and brother sat in a dirty jail cell, and you had put them there.

They bore the consequences of your stupidity.

Your mind ran and ran with your anxiety. Images of your mother and brother being beaten in a small cell. Edmund’s family slowly starving to death without him. The memory of Edmund as he swayed from the rope.  

You wallow in bed for an hour before Coriolanus rejoins.

You feel him slip into bed beside you. He wraps his arms tightly around you and for the first time in months you fall asleep easily.

You woke the next morning with the feeling of crushing sadness.

Coriolanus was awake next to you. You could hear him practicing a speech as he laid beside you. You don’t move. You weren’t even sure if you could.

A knock on the door stops him, and he bids the person to come in.

You don’t have to look to know it was a servant with a breakfast tray.

Coriolanus reaches for your shoulder to turn you over. You follow his direction and he props a pillow up behind you so you could sit up.

You thank the person as they put a small table over your lap.

You felt nauseous just looking at the food. But asking them to take it away may cause trouble for them so you wait until they leave to reject the food.

You place the table on the floor and roll back onto your side. Your bones felt like cement, and your eyes welled with tears but you didn’t have the energy to cry.

Coriolanus said nothing to you as he eats.

He mutters his speech between sips of coffee. Soon that was finished too, and he rose for the day.

He crosses your eyesight as he approached the wardrobe, and you watch him dress. It seemed odd to see him in anything other than his Commander uniform.

You had never seen Capitol fashion before. It was full of layers and tiny details. The buttons on his shirt had a silver swirl design that caught the light. His shirt was crisp and white with a design of two black flowers on either side, reaching from the end of the shirt to his shoulders.

“I have some work to do. Interviews and thank you letters. So, if you decide to come out be quiet.”

You had no plan to leave your spot, but you nod in understanding.

He doesn’t look or speak to you again as he leaves the room.

You felt as if you had died too. There was no life in you anymore.

You lay for hours in the same spot. Occasionally you could hear Coriolanus as he spoke.

The weight on your shoulder caused it to ache but you couldn’t make yourself move.

The only time you shifted during the hours was when the servants returned to serve you lunch. They took the dirty dishes but also the dirty laundry.

You lunch up to stop the women carrying out Edmund’s brown coat.

“Wait, please!” you grab the worn material off her, “Not this. Leave this.”

The two women look between each other, unsure.

“Mr. Snow said to take everything.”

You swing the jacket over you, positioning yourself in it.

“He didn’t mean this.” Edmund’s faint scent lingered on the fabric. He gave it to you to keep warm at night. You had come to associate it with the feeling of protection.

The young girl bows to you and the other follows suit. As they leave, you know it’s to tell Coriolanus.

You sit and wait for him on the bed.

Coriolanus storms in not moments later.

“The jacket,” he demanded.

“No, Coriolanus. Please let me keep it.”

He launches at you, tearing at the jacket trying to pull it off you. You fight against him, cementing your arms to yourself and trying to wriggle free.

He gets it half off your shoulders. But he grew too frustrated to finish the job. He pulls you up towards him by the collar of the jacket.

“Take the jacket off or I’ll tell them not to bother feeding your mother tonight.”

Edmund was right. Coriolanus was always going to use your family as a weapon.

But the needs of the living overtook those of the dead. You had to make sure they were as safe as you could make them.

He gets off you and you get up to give him the jacket.

As he takes the jacket with one hand, he smacks you with the other.

You make a startled sound but Coriolanus is gone before you finish it.

You return back to your spot and sob into your pillow.

With the jacket now gone, you had truly lost every piece of Edmund.

And with him, you have lost every piece of yourself. Only Coriolanus remained.

 ————

 Three hours after lunch, Coriolanus came to sit on your side of the bed next to you.

“I’ve brought you a cup of tea.”

“Thank you. I don’t want tea.”

Coriolanus’s face is tense as he places the cup on the table next to you.

“They tell me you didn’t have lunch either. Is that your plan? To starve yourself to death before we reach the Capitol?”

“I have no plan,” you admit.

 “Well I do. I have lots of plans, and you’re through with delaying them. So Sit up and drink your tea.” 

He reaches out to your neck to help you sit up. The tea is placed into your hands but it is him you stare at. 

“You look so different.” 

His hair was a soft white color as it grew out. His clothes were fashionable and colorful. Nothing of the District 12 Commander remained. 

He runs his fingers through his hair, combing it back. 

“I am still the same.” 

“I don’t think that’s true.”  You didn’t think it was possible but he was colder, held himself with somehow more confidence. This was the new leader of Panem. 

“What would you know? You never bothered to get to know me.” 

“I think I know you better than anyone else.” 

He showed you parts of himself you were sure he hid from others. The nightmares. The secret yearning to be taken care of. The heartbreak he carried from the loss of his mother. 

“Think, think, think. What have I told you about thinking? You’re no good at it. I’ll do it. Now drink your tea.” 

You take a sip of the scalding tea. It quenches some of your thirst. 

“Will I ever go back to District 12?” you ask. 

You weren’t really sure you would want to. 

“No.” 

“What’s going to happen to me once we reach the Capitol?”

He sighs, ‘‘That depends on you.” 

“Will it be like the compound?”

He laughs humorlessly, “Nothing is like the compound.” 

“I meant being locked indoors.”

“Will I let you roam free around the Capitol? No.” He doesn’t look at you as he speaks. His eyes move around the room, looking at the subtle details. 

“But if you are well-behaved, and do enough to earn it, I will show you all the Capitol has to offer.” 

His eyes move down, back to you. 

“You’ll grow to admire the Capitol. You won’t hate it forever.” 

You go to refute his statement. Nothing in the Capitol could fill the gaping hole left in you from being torn from your home and family. But a servant knocks on the door, taking Coriolanus’s attention. 

He commands them to come in but the small girl only steps upon the threshold and never through it. 

“Sir, you have a call.”

“I’ll be right there.” He answers back. 

She bows and doesn’t rise until the door is shut again.

“Duty calls,” you taunt. 

“Yes.” His eyes are back to being everywhere but on you, “I want that tea finished before I get back.”

As soon as he leaves, you get up and pour the tea down the bathroom sink. 

—----

The next morning was the same. You laid in bed for hours, unmoving. 

Only this morning they didn’t bother to bring you breakfast. You wondered if you would have eaten it, if it was offered, but your guilt still felt so heavy. 

Lunchtime came around and Coriolanus disrupted your wallowing. 

“Get up. We reach the Capitol soon.” He orders. 

He plucks a dress off the rack and lays it across the bed, just under your feet. 

It was a blush pink satin gown that tied in a low ribbon at the back. Matching heels that wrapped around your ankle were placed on the floor below. 

You sit up to touch the fabric of the dress, and Coriolanus sneaks behind you with a hair brush. 

He begins to untangle your hair but he pulls it too harshly. You could feel the tender spot on your head from where he had pulled it just two days before. 

“There will be cameras when we step off the train. Fashion is very important in the Capitol. You’ll have to get used to not wearing the same dress every day.” 

He pulls a knot too harshly and you let out a cry of pain. 

His hand moves yours from the spot and massages it gently. 

“That wouldn’t have happened if you had gotten up at some point.” 

He returns the brush to the carry bag and returns to you, holding out his hands. 

You take them and he pulls you up out of the bed.

His hands move to your nightdress and he pulls it off to place the pink satin gown over your head. He spins you around so he can tie it in the back. 

“Put on your shoes and meet me outside.” 

He places a kiss on the back of your shoulder before leaving you. 

The shoes are hard to walk in. While not overly tall, the heel itself was narrow. Trying to walk felt like a balancing act. You could only manage small steps. 

Coriolanus sat at the booth looking out of the window. 

The landscape had changed from long stretches of dry dirt to tall buildings. 

You sit down opposite him and gaze out the window at it all. 

It seemed unreal. 

Every building shined. The Panem flag was hung wherever possible. The sky seemed extra blue. 

You had never felt homesick but now you realize why Coriolanus was so eager to get back home. 

The scenery disappears as you enter a tunnel and stop at your destination. 

Your hand is tugged as Coriolanus heads to the exit with the servants and the bags just ahead of you.

You could hear a commotion as you got closer. Voices overlapped and snapping sounds of flashing cameras joined the noise. 

The lights were blinding as you exited the carriage. 

Coriolanus seemed in his element. He waved and smiled as he lead you through the sea of cameramen and reporters. 

They all shouted at him as they held microphones up to his face. But he didn’t stop to make a comment. 

More people surrounded the outside. Peacekeepers made a path to a sparkling black car with their bodies blocking the crowd. 

He was hailed a king here, and a tyrant back in District 12. All for the same thing. 

The scene was overwhelming. Not only were you in a foreign place without your family, but you felt yourself suffocating amongst the crowd. If one were to break through, the rest would follow ending in a catastrophe. 

You were a stranger, an enemy. You did not belong here. 

You wanted to turn back to the train but Coriolanus’s hold prohibited such action. 

Someone opens the car door for him and he lets you enter first. 

The silence that greets you helps to settle your nerves. With a final wave, Coriolanus joins you in the car, and it takes off from the crowd. 

He sighs and readjusts his jacket so it falls in front of him. 

Your hands shake so you keep them clamped together on your lap.

Coriolanus doesn’t speak to you as you peer out the window. 

You felt as if you had stepped onto another planet. 

The streets were colorful, both in design and people. Cars gilded next to you and in front of you. There were statues and water fountains on every corner. 

All gained from the hard labor of the Districts. 

Still, you couldn’t take your eyes off the passing scenery. You are hypnotized for the 20 minutes that the car drives. But it soon stops in front of a large brick building. 

“Do you live here?” Was this your new home? You wondered. 

“No one lives here,” he answers shortly. 

He exits the car, holding the door open for you. Following him out, you hear the voice of a man greet Coriolnaus. 

“Mr. Snow. Welcome.” 

The man was a little overweight in a suit that was finely tailored to him. He had bleached his eyebrows and mustache, and wore many pieces of jewelry.  

“Thank you for meeting with us.” Coriolanus shook the man’s hand but returns it to yours as soon as it ended. 

“Of course, Mr. Snow. We were happy to accommodate you. Please, follow me.” 

The man leads you both into the building and through the halls but only talks to Coriolanus about the history of the building. 

It was a beautiful building that housed artwork and portraits along the walls. 

You could tell Coriolanus didn’t care but remained civil. His fingers squeeze yours as he is ushered into a room. 

Like everything in the Capitol, it is unnecessarily large and grand. Gold candle holders, rows and rows of pews made of expensive wood, oil painted artwork of important men loomed down at you. 

“Just over this way, if you would please.” 

The man leads you to a table on a small front stage. There was only one chair in front of it which Coriolanus pulls out for you. 

The man passes Coriolanus a pen and tells him where to sign. 

He does so quickly and elegantly. 

“And now for you, Madam.” 

Coriolanus passes you the pen but only small writing covered the page and you were hesitant to sign it. 

“What is this?” You look up to the man, who rocked slightly side to side.

“It’s a marriage certificate.” Coriolanus answered for him.

“Marriage?”

Did marriage in the Capitol have the same meaning as marriage in the Districts? What did marriage in the Capitol truly entail and why was Coriolanus so eager to have you sign it?

“Yes. Marriage. Now sign the paper.” His hand curls around yours so you don’t drop the pen.

“Coriolanus-” Your words are cut short when his hand latches itself under your chin and yanks it up, keeping your hand directed at the paper. He forces your hand closer to the line.

“Sign the paper,” he commands. With his hand enclosed around yours, you sign your simple signature next to his cursive.

He releases you once you do.

“If you wanted a wedding then you shouldn’t have run off.” He spat at you. 

Your hands shake uncontrollably and your eyes water but no sympathy is given by either man. 

“You’ve robbed the Capitol of the wedding of the year, truly!” 

“I think the Capitol will survive.” You feel Coriolanus tug you up, and the man follows his lead out the door. 

“I am sure you are eager to get home and rest before election day.” the man spoke. His voice echoed through the large halls. 

“May I just say what an honor it was to marry you two today! You two kids will set a trend. I’ll have young lovers knocking my door down to elope.” 

You sob at his words. 

“Forgive her. The journey was long.” 

“Of course.” 

With only three more steps until the door, the conversation died. 

Coriolanus is quick in pace, and propelled you to move faster than you could in your heels. 

You could hardly see through the tears in your eyes, so you reach blindly until you feel the car underneath your fingers. 

“Thank you, sir.” He shakes hands with the man once again. 

“Anything for our future president.”

Coriolanus opens the door and guides you inside as he says goodbye to the man. 

He allows you to cry until the car pulls up outside of the apartment, at which he tells you to stop. 

He pulls a handkerchief out of breast pocket and wipes the tears from your face as they fall. 

From the outside you could hear the driver collecting the bags from the boot. 

“You need to stop crying. We are home now.” 

You take the handkerchief off him and dap your own tears. He longingly stares out the window. 

He almost bounces in his seat. Eager to get up the stairs and back home. 

Marriage is not the worst thing to have happened to you, nor the worst thing he could do.

It didn’t really mean anything, you told yourself. The Capitol probably wouldn’t even recognize a marriage between a Capitol citizen and District. 

You push his patience as far as it would go before you are able to collect yourself. 

“Ready?” he asks. 

You give a curt nod and he swings the door open. 

The driver passes the bags to a servant dressed in the same white dress as the ones on the train. They take them back into tall metal building. 

It reached the sky in height, and a whole community of District 12 in width. 

Coriolanus knew his way well. With all the wall ways, and feature spaces of the hotel, you were sure you would get lost escaping the building, yet alone the Capitol. 

An elevator you knew as you stood in front of it. They had them in large government buildings that you would sometimes ride as you delivered material from work. 

The elevator door opens and he hits the top floor. 

 As it goes up, you feel your stomach drop. Once you reached the top floor, would you ever go down again? Was your life now confined within this building?

It reaches the penthouse too fast. Your feet refuse to move as the door opens. 

Coriolanus tries a gentle tug but as the doors try to close again, he motions turn into a pull. 

“We’re almost there.” He digs in his pocket for a key. 

His key ring that used to carry so many keys now only held three. 

The sound of an opening door is met with a loud pop of streamers. 

You flinch as the colorful tissues attack you.  

A high pitch scream precedes a weight being thrown at Coriolanus but he catches it easily and with great joy. 

You take the chance to jump back out of the way. 

“Hey,” he laughs.You watch the cousins embrace. You had once promised yourself that letters would be as close as you got to Tigris and now she stood in front of you. 

“Coryo! You’re finally home,” she captures his face in a loving embrace and he smiles back. 

A crooning sound overtakes the moment and an old women takes the spot of Tigris. 

“My boy. Future president of Panem.” 

He leans down and kisses her on the cheek. She turns her head for him to do so, coming eye to eye with you. 

She turns to you as Coriolanus releases her. 

“Don’t just stand there, child. Come forward, let me take a look at you.”

 Grandma’am eyes you, causing you to curl further into yourself. 

Coriolanus clears his throat and places his hand on your lower back to move you forward. 

“May I introduce Mrs. Snow.”

“Mrs. Snow! Oh Coryo!” Tigris gasps, “How could you?” 

“We had too. The media would never have left us alone if they knew. But-” he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small jewelry box, “We saved the most important part for you: the rings.”

He takes a ring out of the box. Your hand shakes but he holds it steady as he slides the ring on. 

Fifty small rectangular diamonds cover a gold band. It was shiny and heavy on your finger. 

Tigris gasps upon seeing it but you have no reaction. 

He then passes you a gold band and holds his hand out to you. 

You push the ring on his finger quickly. 

It was enough for Tigris who claps and jumps. 

She wraps her arms around your neck while her grandmother lifts your hand up to inspect the ring. 

As they give you space, Coriolanus takes it, bringing you back into his arms. 

“I want to hear everything!” Tigris says.

She walks to the living room table and takes a bottle of champagne out of a bucket of ice.

It could have been the lack of food and water over the past three days. It could have been the pure overwhelming feeling of it all. But as the cork of the champagne is opened, your knees give way and you collapse unconscious. 

Coriolanus manages to catch you and you feel his hard arm under your head. 

You hear him call out to you before the darkness fades your vision. 

—----------

You wake at midnight in a fright. 

You knew you were in a bed but everything was pitch black. 

Was everything a dream? Was Edmund alive and just below you?

The answer was no. Coriolanus woke with your fast movements and worked quickly to pull you into his arms. 

“Hey, you’re alright. You’re alright.” 

You struggle against him in a panic. 

“You’re alright. You’re safe,” he consoles. 

“No, no, I’m not.” You feel his face under your fingertips and push against him. 

He retaliates by capturing both your wrists in his hand, pulling them down. 

“Stop it. Calm down now. You’re alright.” 

His weight tugs on your wrists as he leans back to flick on the bedside lamp. It cast a yellow light in which you could see him clearly. 

He had gone to sleep in only his underwear again. His old Commander ways were still clawing on. 

You register that you had been re-dressed into cotton pants and a large top.

“Please, Coriolanus. Let me go. I haven’t done anything,” you cry. 

He pulled you closer by your wrists so your body was leaning against his. 

"Please, I am sorry,” your tears soak his bare chest but he doesn’t move, “I am so sorry.”

He moves his arms around you so you were cradled but it did nothing to help soothe you. 

“No, no, please,” you struggle but his hold was tight. “I never did anything wrong.” 

You tried so hard to be good. Now you were being punished for it. 

“I know. I know that,” he insisted, bringing you closer. 

“It’s okay. Just go back to sleep.” 

You can’t. The image of Edmund swinging in the wind haunted you. 

“Oh Edmund,” you cried. It wasn’t his fault. He was only trying to protect you. 

Coriolanus made no comment given your state. 

“It’s alright. Everything is alright,” he repeats. He hums softly, a song that his mother used to sing when he was a child. He was surprised he still remembered it, or most of it at least. 

He used to hum it during his school years when academic pressure hindered his sleep. 

It rose his anxiety levels just from the association with those years, but it worked to settle you so he continued. 

Your mother used to hum you to sleep as well. When you had bad dreams, she would sit on your bed and run her fingers through your hair as she hummed. 

It was easier to pretend that you were only a child back in your bed with your mother next to you, protecting you from all the horrors of the world. 

—--------------

 The next morning you woke as Coriolanus finished dressing for the day. 

Your movement gains his attention, he finishes putting on his coat and comes to sit next to you on the bed. 

“Hey, how’d you sleep?”. 

He runs a warm hand over your face. You sit up to brush him off. 

“I’ve told Tigris and grandma’am to leave you alone today so you can rest.”

Your stomach drops at the thought of being isolated again. You couldn’t be left alone with your thoughts today. 

Already it’s racing with guilt. 

You latch onto his arm. 

“No. Coriolanus please, don’t lock me in here.” 

He looks to weigh up his options before deciding.  

“I won’t. But you need to show me that you can behave. I won’t have you upsetting Tigris or Grandma’am.

“I won’t,” you promise. 

“They don’t need to know the full extent of us. Only that we are happy to be here together.”

“Ok, Coriolanus.” 

You shove the thick blanket off and swing your body off the bed. 

You follow Coriolanus to the kitchen table where Tigre’s and grandma’am sat eating breakfast. 

Tigre’s rises as you enter into the room. She keeps her distance so not to overwhelm you. 

“Y/N, how are you feeling?” She asks. 

“Much better now. Thank you. I am sorry if I offended you yesterday. I wasn't feeling well.” 

“No! Of course not.” Tigris exclaims, “God, you’ve been through so much. I couldn’t even imagine how you are feeling right now.”

Your eyes flick to her. Coriolanus had made it seem like her and Grandma’am knew nothing of the truth, but could she know at least part of it?

“You must have been so frightened when those rebels took you to the mountains,” Grandma’am commented between a scone. 

Your eyes shoot at Coriolanus, who was already looking at you, silently telling you to be quiet.  

A twisted truth is as good as the truth itself in his books. 

“Yes, I was. Everyday. But I knew Coriolanus was coming.”

“Our Coriolanus isn’t scared of coward rebels!” Grandma’am exclaims. 

Coriolanus was quick to change the subject at the first sound of silence, “Tigris, she hasn’t had breakfast yet.

The breakfast table is near silent as everyone ate. 

It was a relief when Coriolanus kissed you goodbye. The company of Tigres was much easier to keep. 

—-----‘

Coriolanus was busy now that he was home. Interviews and meetings took most of his time now that the elections were coming up. 

You saw little of Grandma’am, but Tigris almost always was in the apartment. 

She tried to be kind to you. She often went out of her way to check on you. But you avoided her. Staying in the room you were placed in. If you said the wrong thing to her, it was sure to make its way back to Coriolanus, and your family was to pay for it. 

Your days before Coriolanus returned home were filled by looking out the window, or preparing an item of clothing for Coriolanus. He always wanted to have at least one thing on that you had some part in preparing. 

He tore off his buttons so you could sew them back on, you shined brand new shoes that didn’t need it, ironed shirts that had already been ironed for him. 

You didn’t argue when he asked you to do it. 

If you performed an action in the way he wanted, he would give you updates on your family. 

From what you gathered, they were fed and allowed an hour outside together. 

 The day of the election came fast. 

It felt as if it happened overnight, but it had been three days since your arrival in the Capitol. 

The election was called at eight o'clock which meant the entire day was filled with buzz.  People came in and out all day. Coriolanus spent the entire day on the phone, or in between breaks talking to the people in the room.

You sat in his chair as he worked standing. You watched the people as they came in and out. They looked different from people back home. 

They all had something unusual about them. Funny color hair, a piercing that stuck out of their face. One thing they all had in common was their high quality clothing. Nothing like the sacks District clothes are made out of. 

Grandma’am and Tigris had gone out to prepare themselves for the election. It was nearly night but they had been gone since the morning.

Coriolanus was in the middle of getting a haircut when two females came up to you and requested that you followed them. 

Coriolanus told you to do so from where he sat. You didn’t ask why as you followed them to the bedroom. 

With the door shut, they tell you to shower and come back so they can dress you for the election. 

The news causes you to tense. You were not ready to face the Capitol. 

But with no choice, you take a shower and return for them to do their work. 

They only talk to each other as they work. 

They dress you in a white strapless gown that split up the side to show more white sparkly tulle, and white heels that were shorter and easier to walk in than the pink heels that you had at the train station. 

They gossip about elite members of the Capital. Who was cheating on who. Who wore what. 

One burns you with a hot iron as she curls your hair because she leans forward to laugh. No apology is given as she continues to talk. She pins small white roses throughout your hair. The pins scrape your head as they enter your hair but you make no complaint. 

You were grateful when they finished dressing you. As soon as they begin to pack up, you exit the room without a goodbye.

You run into Coriolanus, still with his team in the living room. He stood in front of a tall mirror as you had taken the main bedroom. 

He matched you in white. Admittedly, he looked gorgeous in a double-breasted suit with his white shirt peeking out from it. The first few first buttons were undone and a silver chain with your ring hung around his neck. 

He was fixing a white rose to his chest pocket when his eyes caught you in the mirror behind him. 

“We are finished here,” he tells the room, who pack up immediately. 

He looked nervous, and you supposed he should be. All his life had been leading up to this moment. 

He talks low to you so the others don’t hear as they leave, almost whispering in your ear. 

“Just a few more hours and you’ll be looking at the President of Panam.” 

Your hands shook, and you flexed them to try and shake the nerves out. 

Coriolanus, always hyper-aware, noticed, capturing your hands and bringing them up to his face to kiss. 

“Shouldn’t I be the one shaking?” he jokes. 

“I don’t want to go. You don’t need me there.” 

“I do need you there.” He releases you, annoyed at your resistance. 

You sit down on the couch as the people make their way to the door. 

“Do I need to remind you that your performance tonight is crucial to your family's survival?” 

“No,” you say softly, “That’s never left my mind.” 

He crouches down in front of you, resting his hands on your waist. 

 “Good. Now people know you are District, but you’re not to mention it. If anyone mentions it to you, you tell me straight away.” He flicks your chin up so you are looking at him and not at your lap. “Hey, straight away.”

You nod your head in understanding. You had no plan to talk freely with any of the Capitol brood anyway.

“As first lady of Panem, you’ll be required to attend performances like these from time to time. I need to know I can trust you not to embarrass me when you do.”

You nod your head once again, “You can.” 

You remember Ravenstill’s wife. All she did was smile and sit pretty. You could do the same, regardless of the pain you felt. 

He raises himself slightly to press his lips against yours before rising entirely. 

“The car is waiting down stairs.” You rise with him and he takes your hand in his through the walk. 

The car ride is silent. Coriolanus began to practice his speech again as you stared out the window. 

The Capitol seems quieter than usual. No car buzzed around as you drove. One or two passed but they seemed to be in their own rush. Not a person roamed the street.

All of the Capitol held their breath as they waited for their new President. 

The car stops in front of a huge fountain surrounded by a large field. It was out of place amongst the sky scrapers. It was filled with people, all wearing peculiar colorful clothing. Nearly all of them wore a white rose upon their chest.

They surrounded a large stage lit up with bright lights.

Rows of chairs were lined across the back of the stage.  People hovered around them, all wearing white like you. They greet Coriolanus as he walks through. Some of them even greet you, but you hate them all the same.

You see his grandmother and cousin sitting directly behind the podium. He seems to be trying to make a beeline to them, but people keep interrupting them.

He keeps his temper, politely dismissing them as he wades through the crowd. 

His grandmother jumps up to kiss him. He uses his spare hand to bring her in close.

“President Snow, we salute you,” she says sincerely.

“I’ve not won anything yet, Grandma’am,” but his smirk told that he knew he was about to.

Grandma’am wore a hat of white roses but a simple white dress suit and pearls.

Tigris rose as well to hug her cousin now her grandmother was out of the way. Her strapless white dress hugged her curves right down to her ankles where the dress dissolved into white tulle. You could see the outline of white roses on her dress too. Her makeup was centered around the pale pink eyeshadow that was blown out towards her temple.

Finishing with Coriolanus, Tigris turns and hugs you, but you couldn’t manage it back.

Coriolanus leans down to whisper in your ear, “All you have to do is sit down next to Tigris and smile. Can you do that?”

Your families life depended on it, so you smile back at him to show that you could.

The Panem national anthem began to play bringing a hush over the audience as they all go back to stand in front of their seat and sing.

Coriolanus stood next to you, still holding your hand as he sung. The camera flashed in your face and you decide it was better to sing along.

The song finishes and the large screen behind you switches to a man with a microphone on one side and another man in a field similar to Coriolanus. You assumed the latter was his political opponent.

It was the cue for the people on stage to take a seat. You take yours next to Tigris and Coriolanus walks up to the podium.

Smaller screens are prompted up along the front of the stage so that no one on the stage was facing backwards.

You watch as the man with the microphone gives his introduction, introducing himself as Lucky Flickerman before the screen flashes to Coriolanus, and then cuts to Augustus.

You eye the open field. The guards were all focused to the front. There were a few people off the side but they looked mostly like stylists and operation managers. They would hardly put up a fight for you.

You could make it. At least on to the street. But how would you make it back home? How would you free your family? How could you live with yourself in District 12 without Edmund?

Tigress reaches out and entangles your hand with her in comfort. It brings you back to the election.

Lucky performs a few magic tricks as the final votes are counted.

“Now for the moment we have all been waiting for.'' An assistant runs up and places an envelope into Lucky’s hand.

“The results are in people! Who has Panem chosen to be our new leader? The savvy businessman or the fearless Commander? Let’s find out!”

Not a word was spoken as the man opened the envelope. It must have been the result he wanted, for he broke out into a grin and began to shake his head.

“Just as I predicted. Ladies and gentleman, the new President of Panem: Coriolanus Snow!”

The crowd erupts in cheering around you. Loud popping sounds precedes colorful confetti dropping from mounted cannons. Tigris lets go of your hand to clutch Coriolanus.

She sprang up from her seat and captured his head between her arms. His grandmother is next up to crowd him. He brushed off people quickly, he had a speech to make.

You wonder if you should get up but there were already too many people around him. You would only be in the way.

He makes his way to you, bending down to place a kiss on your cheek before turning back to shake hands with those around him.

The win came as no surprise to him but he wore a large smile, and seemed almost giddy at the news.

He turns back to the podium and people quieten as he gives his speech. You heard him mutter it a million times. You could almost recite it for him.

“Today is a new day for Panem,” it began.

You eye your freedom just down the stairs but remain seated and smiling.

You’re not sure how long Coriolanus spoke for, but the applause and cheering told you he had stopped.

Before you knew it he was standing in front of you with an outstretched hand. You take it and he stops to kiss his family, giving them instructions as to where they should now go before he leads you down the steps and into the crowd.

You shrink back as they gather around him. His grasp hurt. Your bones in your hand felt as if they were about to pop out of place. But it was too easy to get lost in the crowd, so he wouldn’t loosen it.

Too many voices overlapped to hear any single one. A few pats on your shoulder was all the attention you received while Coriolanus was drowning in a sea of people.

You couldn’t make out his words over the people and the music. You let yourself be overtaken with the senses.

You smiled and nodded at people as you passed them. It was Coriolanus’ big night, you couldn’t even fathom the punishment if you were to make a mistake tonight.

You stay close to him, just over his shoulder.

He looks back to check on you one or two times but never opens his mouth.

Confetti had been hidden in his curls. You focused on counting the pieces.

The whirl-pool of people seemed to never end. As soon as one person faded another took their place.

It must have been half an hour before Coriolanus made the small distance to the apartment block.

It was 30 stories with a roof top bar that was pumping with lights and music.

The rest of the people would mingle down below with food and drinks. Huddling around the colorful glass standing tables.

You reach the entrance, guarded by two peacekeepers, and Coriolanus leads you in front of him as he presses the button for the elevator.

It was quick to come and Coriolanus pushed your hips to make you move inside.

He lets go of you as you enter and gives a wave to his fans as the door closes.

The elevator is dead quiet. Only the faint sound of pumping music could be heard.

You think he is too wrapped up in his victory to pay you any mind now you were out of sight of the public.

You were relieved almost to be out from under his attention. But he moves quick to push you up against the wall and smash his lips onto yours.

His hands steady your face as he assaults your lips.

He leaves you out of breath and grins at you widely for it.

The door dings open, and he pulls back from you. Only taking a loose grip of your hand.

Another cheer for the President was heard over the music as he steps out.

You look around the room at all the people in white. Supporters of a maniac.

Tigris and Grandma’am were offered a lounge chair as they ate and drank.

“Look,” he spoke to you, taking a green drink off a tray offered to him, “The apple pie drink you wanted. I requested it especially for you.”

He passed you the drink as a man approached him.

You managed to get a “thank you” out before the stranger began to talk.

Coriolanus paid you no more mind the rest of the night. He spoke and joked freely with the party goers while stringing you along behind him.

A few spoke to you about mundane things but Coriolanus was quick to end any longer talk then a few seconds.

The drink did taste like apple pie. A low rate apple pie. You could bake one much better. But for a drink it was fine. You ended up drinking three before Coriolanus snatched the fourth and placed it on a nearby table.

Tigres caught your eye a couple of times. You knew she was making sure you were alright. She was kind, and so ‘un-Capitol’.

Grandma’am was more true to her up-bringing. She insisted on teaching you the ways of the Capitol, and training you out of your ‘District ways’.

“It'll be our secret,” she told you over breakfast this morning, “I’ll defend you against the District rumors.”

In a way you supposed it was sweet of her. Although her intentions could very well be for Coriolanus' benefit rather than yours.

The later it got, the quieter it got.

People began disappearing. Others passed out on sofas and lounges.

Coriolanus' energy never seemed to drain, but Tigris’ and Grandma’am’s did.

Tigris had come over and interrupted Coriolanus' conversation. She offered to take you home with her and Grandma’am but Coriolanus was resistant.

“She’s fine, Tigris. I’ll bring her home with me.”

If you had been on equal standing with Coriolanus, you would have protested and just left but you were mud under his shoe, so you smiled at Tigris and told her you would see her in the morning.

Tigris kissed both of you goodbye. You hold on to her for too long. You could tell from the way Coriolanus squeezed your hand.

The party continued long after she had gone.

Your legs hurt from standing in the heels and your dress was too tight to have eaten all you did over the course of the night.

Coriolanus could sense that you were nearing the end of what you could take, so he began his final lap of victory around the room.

You were beyond grateful when he ushered you into the car.

You sighed as you sunk down into the plush leather seats, taking off your heels instantly.

“Thank you for tonight,” he said as the car entered the main road which had returned to its normal state of business even late at night, “You were very well behaved.”

“Congratulations on your win,” you return.

“Snow always lands on top,” he talks softly as he gazes out to the city.

The car rolls through the city smoothly. Coriolanus watches it pass from the window.

You feel half-asleep resting your head back on the seat.

You feel him move you down to a lying position and your eyes shoot wide open. His fingers brush your skin as he slides the skirt of your dress up.

“What are you doing?” You catch his hands and he lowers his head.

He hushes you as he slides your panties off your hips, “All the drivers talk.”

Trapped in a car in a city that kills your people for entertainment, you lay back and don’t make a sound.

You clutch the back of the seat in a tight hold as Coriolanus begins.

Edmund was barely cold in the ground and here you were, being eaten out by the man who killed him.

You try not to focus on it as Coriolanus' lips and tongue work. It pulls a moan from you and Coriolanus hits your thigh.

You press your tongue between your teeth to avoid making noise. A hand makes its way into Coriolanus’ curls and tugging on them gives you a sense of satisfaction.

It encourages him however and his movements become more targeted and passionate.

The car pulls to the curb in front of his house by the time you had made a mess in the backseat.

You lay back with your legs spread as you come down from your high.

A chill shoots through you as the door is opened by the driver but Coriolanus pulls it closed before he could see the scene.

You get up despite not being ready too. Coriolanus grabs your shoes and pockets your panties, taking your hand when its free.

You both emerge from the car as if nothing had happened.

It was late and cold. You thank the driver as you pass him.

The building was huge. Nearly all the floor was covered in titles and your feet made a sound against them.

You try to slow your walk to quite the sound, but Coriolanus was eager to get up to the apartment.

He storms across the lobby, and courtyard before reaching the steps that lead to the elevator.

He presses the button too many times. It doesn’t make it come any faster.

The house is dark and silent as you enter. The women went to bed hours ago, and you were hopping to follow suit.

Coriolanus leads you to his bedroom which is large and not yet decorated.

You pull free from him as you enter. Immediately you tear all the pins and roses from your hair.

You hear Coriolanus drop your shoes.

He clears his throat to gain your attention.

“Your brother and mother have been freed from the compound.”

Your fingers freeze in your hair. It felt as if he had lifted a great weight off your chest. You turn to him in gratitude.

“Thank you, Coriolanus.”

He smiles down at you before stooping down to your height and placing a firm kiss to your lips.

You push back against his shoulders after the kiss continues past a normal amount of time.

He pushes back, bracing you against the bed with him on top of you.

His lips turn to your neck as he unzips the back of your dress.

“Coriolanus, please don’t,” you beg.

He slides the dress’s straps off your shoulder as he responds, “Please, just give this to me. Don’t make me take it.’’

The dress is taken off you, and Coriolanus strips it off with kisses.

Only when a kiss is placed on your hip do you begin to struggle.

This man had tormented you for months. Starved you. Robbed you. Killed the man you loved. You would give him nothing freely.

You kick and push him away, but he is stronger.

“Hey. Hey, it’s okay.” He pulls you upward by your wrists to the pillows.

“No! Get off of me!”

“Y/N, please. Please,” he pleads.

You continue to fight but he persists.

 “Please, don’t make me do this.”

“No. No. Edmund! Mum!”

“Shut up,” it was less of a command and more of a plea, “Please, shut up.” 

You do. What would your resistance gain you? A few more seconds until the inevitable. 

His grip loosens as you are still beneath him. 

With only a weak hold of your wrists, he pulls off his clothes. You can hear the movement but can’t force your eyes to open. 

Tears leak down your cheeks but you refrain from making a sound. 

“It’s alright. I’ll take care of you.” 

He lines himself up and pushes in with ease. The pain was subsided due to your wetness from the car ride but the first slow thrusts felt slightly painful and uncomfortable. 

You whine slightly as you adjust to the intrusion. You fight to release your wrists from his hold, you wanted to push back on his shoulders, feeling as if he was too deep. 

“It’ll only hurt for a little bit,” he promised, continuing his slow movements. 

He kisses you as you let out another whine. 

Soon the pain did stop, and an enjoyable sensation began to form. 

Coriolanus tried his best to remain slow, but as he got lost in his own lust, he forgot about your pain. 

It felt as if he was bruising you. But his mouth never left yours so you couldn’t voice a complaint.

Your hips jerk away from him, trying to ease the pressure but his spare hand stills your hip, making you take the full brunt of what he wanted to give you. 

He pulls his head back from yours and groans.

“Ah,” he grunts. 

“Coriolanus-” you had wanted to ask him to slow down but you feel yourself tightening around him as you come. 

His hand moves from your wrists and intertwines with your hand. He presses his weight down as he picks up his pace to chase his own high. 

“Wait, wait!” you were through. Every second after was too much. 

“It’s okay. You’re okay,” he grunts. 

You groan from the pressure as he continues. 

“Almost there, darling.” 

His last few thrusts are hard but the pressure turns into a warm pool between your legs. 

Coriolanus is still as he rests his forehead upon your shoulder. You don’t move either, unsure of what to do. 

A few moments later and he raises his head, repositioning himself so his arms cage around your head. 

 He drags a finger down the bridge of your nose and it runs off your cheek like a tear. 

“Welcome to the Capitol, Mrs. Snow.

taglist:

@sarahskakskskskajakwwnwjw

@mrsjobarnes

@greekyoghurtwithberries

@namelesslosers

@urfavnoirette

 @aleemendoza2425-blog

@hiatuswhore

@jacesvelaryons

@swimmjacket

@brooks-lin

@dawnissunnysideup

@astarborntowrite

@someonefromwutheringheights

@purriteen

@homopheli

@devils-blackrose

@poppyflower-22

@bruher

@dawnissunnysideup

@winter-bearv 

@tempt-ress

@serinatly100986

@becauseseaotters

@aleemendoza2425-blog

@inloveallthetime

@hufflepuffxsworld

@chennyetomlinson

[alysrivrs]

❛ ♡. gif credit. ⎯⎯ 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐍. ❜

★ ⎯⎯ prince aemond and his betrothed take a stroll together in the royal gardens, though a bit more happens on this ‘stroll’ than he had previously anticipated.

𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗋’𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝖾: i don’t really know what this is, but i was heavily caffeinated & wanted to write something with mostly fluff in it, so… happy reading & enjoy ! ♡

𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌: mdni, suggestive themes, slightly dark!aemond, profanity, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, first kiss (reader), period-typical sexism, misogyny (women are more than breeding machines, aemond!), innocence kink, breeding kink, possessive & obsessive behavior, pet names, romance, fluff—any grammatical errors are my own -- in advance, i sincerely apologize.

𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗍: 1.7k

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐖𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒.

aemond could recall the way you smelled by memory—like freshly ripened strawberries, white roses, sweetened vanilla, your hair was always luscious and soft, like the white satin dress you chose to wear today due to the summer heat in king’s landing.

or maybe, you wished to seek him out and gain more of his attention?

if aemond were to be honest with himself, it worked—oh, how it worked.

“tell me, darling—is the color of your lily-white dress an indication of your virtue?” he mused, causing your cheeks to flush and become dewy from the early afternoon sun, blooming flowers surrounding the two of you.

you couldn’t speak, too embarrassed by your betrothed’s sudden teasing—besides… how scandalous would it be if someone were to eavesdrop on your conversation with the one-eyed prince?

aemond smirked, amused by your shy reaction.

‘twas not as if you were in private, no—the prince demanded your presence once he had finished with his morning training, wishing to take you on a stroll in the royal gardens of the red keep, knowing how much you adored the sight of flowers.

still, no matter how scandalous your dress seemed to others, the heat in king’s landing was quite stifling—even more so with aemond carefully observing you, his amethyst eye sharp and intense as he walked alongside you, not paying any attention to the flowers around you both.

aemond was content to just simply gaze down at you, his own pretty, little flower—soon to blossom into a woman grown, as soon as he would take you under his protection as his lady wife, as far as traditions go.

he made you incredibly nervous—with his long strands of silver hair, his sharp yet handsome features, his prominent nose, his lithe but strong frame, his tall height (which towered over you), those soft, naturally curved lips of his… seven above, you could go on and on!

unbelievably, you seemed to have his full, undivided attention, which made your heart flutter—having the prince all to yourself?

you felt as if you were in some sort of dream—perhaps, you were.

especially with the way aemond treated you—respectful and kind, though you could always see a darkened gleam in his one-eye, as if he were holding himself back from something.

it made your soft, inner thighs slick with arousal—it also had you praying to the seven above each and every evening before bed, begging for forgiveness for your depraved thoughts of your betrothed.

in any case, aemond was much, much worse than you.

aemond could not seem to control himself around you, his cock hardening by the second the more he spent his time with you—alone.

“my sweet lady,” he murmured, interrupting your compliments of the colorful flowers, as he allowed you to do most of the talking as you two walked together, side by side.

aemond was never big on conversation, he never had been, preferring to stay silent and keep his thoughts concealed to himself, in fear of being mocked as he was when he was just a child.

you paused, looking up at the prince—his one natural eye was amethyst in color, the other a sparkling sapphire gem he’d stuffed into his left eye socket when he was just a boy, after his eye had been stolen by his bastard nephew.

however, as you looked up at aemond, there was only one word in your mind—beautiful.

still, he was touched that you didn’t seem afraid of him—in fact, you seemed greatly insulted when he would wear his leather eyepatch around you, claiming it unnecessary and that you wished to see your betrothed whole—every single inch of him.

perhaps, that was the moment aemond one-eye fell irrevocably in love with you.

a moment of silence passed—not uncomfortable, just two soon-to-be lovers gazing at each other.

“may i kiss you, my lady?” he questioned, watching your doe eyes widen, your pink, plump lips parting open slightly in surprise.

“k-kiss me?” you stammered, so sweet and innocent and his.

you didn’t have it in your heart to deny him—in fact, you wanted nothing more than to feel his plush, curved mouth upon yours—desperately.

you nodded, eagerly giving him your consent.

aemond chuckled, quiet and breathy, amused by your sudden eagerness—his shy girl no longer.

immediately, without waiting another second, the prince moved to cup the sides of your flushed face with both of his big, calloused hands, before bending his knees slightly and capturing your lips in a needy, passionate kiss—hearing you release a soft, breathy moan of bliss.

aemond hummed, pleased.

unexpectedly, you kissed him back with just as much enthusiasm, though a bit clumsy, making him think to himself that perhaps this was your first kiss—your first kiss with a man.

the thought excited aemond, which also caused his cock to ache with need—to feel your wet, tight little cunt wrapped around his cock, squeezing him like a vise, right before he would start fucking into your warmth at a frenzied pace, mad with lust for you.

you were a soft, sensitive little thing, with a heart made of glass, meant to be protected, loved, spoiled… and aemond was the perfect man for the role.

he’d cherish you like his queen, love you with every breath he took and beat of his heart—the kind of love that would be told for centuries to come—legendary.

after several seconds of growing accustomed to the way your lips molded together—so perfectly—aemond easily slipped his tongue into your mouth—exploring its delicious sweetness.

strawberries, white roses, and sweetened vanilla.

your scent, your taste—it all filled his senses, making his cock strain even more inside of his leather breeches, while he continuously kissed you more and more, like a man starved until he thought he could never stop.

clearly, you did not wish to stop either.

your soft hands clawed at his back, tugging on his long strands of silver hair, clinging to his lithe form with desperation—a need so strong, aemond had half the mind to bend you over the nearest bench, lift up your pretty, satin skirts and fuck you from behind like a wild beast in his rut.

after several longer moments, you pulled away, gasping for air, though your lips still continued to gently brush against his, both of you panting and sharing the same breath—lips kiss-swollen and desperate for more from one another.

aemond’s eyes were heavy lidded and filled with lust—his amethyst eye practically dilated black and his sparkling sapphire eye shining dangerously with the need to touch you, to fuck you, to spill his seed deep inside of your womb—so deep, you’d be carrying his son by morning.

nevertheless, aemond was a gentleman—he could be patient, though that didn’t stop his depraved thoughts of taking your maidenhead on your wedding night, which was quickly approaching by the days—thank the gods.

soon, you’d be his wife—his lady targaryen.

his and only his.

“perhaps, we s-should return b-back inside, my prince? ‘tis nearly lunchtime… the queen mother requested my presence—she wishes to go over the flower arrangements for our wedding,” you spoke breathlessly, your voice slightly shaky from the intensity of the kiss you both shared.

aemond hummed, nodding his head once in agreement, his face returning back to its usual stoic expression—though his cheeks were still tinted pink and his cock was surely leaking inside of his breeches now… as if he were a little boy once again!

how fucking ridiculous, that he had gotten hard after just simple kissing—however, technically it wasn’t just ‘simple kissing’, not when he was so hopelessly in love.

instantly, aemond offered you one of his lean arms, a silent offer to escort you to his dearest mother’s private solar… and maybe even indulge in some of the ladies newest gossip about your upcoming nuptials—if only to spend more time in your presence.

aemond could not give less of a fuck about what any of the simpering, aggravating noblewomen had to say or gossip about—he only cared for you and what you had to say.

therefore, he would endure the torturous boredom of the ladies of the court, even if he thought each and every single one of them were poisonous, nasty creatures.

be that as it may, aemond would only do such a thing to remain by your side for the rest of the day… and to harshly glare threateningly at any lady who even looked at you the wrong way.

it seemed, the longer aemond spent his time in your gentle presence, the more he grew obsessed—your beautiful and relaxing voice, your sweet smiles, your gentle touch, your naïveté.

seven hells, you were the most breathtaking creature he’s ever had the pleasure of seeing, even with only his one-eye.

when aemond did observe you, which was quite often now as he couldn’t bear to tear his eye away from you, he’d notice the little things about you—causing his world to stop and revolve only around you.

you, you, you.

snapping out of his lovesick thoughts, aemond glanced down at you as you looped your own arm around his offered one, making his blackened heart give a tiny flutter as you smiled so prettily up at him.

“shall we, my sweet lady?” he questioned, his voice a low rasp, controlled and steady, but he did try his best effort with being soft with you, not wanting to scare you off and have you believe the vile rumors spread about him from the court gossipers.

he knew he had quite the temper, the targaryen madness, they called it.

you giggled, “of course, my prince.”

fuck, aemond was quite certainly fucking doomed by having you as his future lady wife—so sweet, caring and loving, the way you seemed so docile and yearned for children of your own… you’d make a lovely mother to his sons, that he was certain.

just as a lovely mother to his future heirs, you’d also make the most perfect wife, he decided.

obedient, doting, gentle, tender and loving—aemond could not wait to make you his little wife, and have his firstborn son swelling inside of your womb.

until then, aemond would portray himself as the perfect gentleman (as usual)—that is, until your wedding night arrives.

fin

[cameronspecial]

Need the rafe and reader locked up in a room 🙏

Don't Stain The Carpet

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Swearing and Heated Make Out

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.1K

Masterlist

Topper and Kece were sick of the fighting. It was happening all day, every day now and they just wanted it to stop. They might even prefer the days when the two would be caught in a heated makeout session instead of an argument. So, they devised a plan to get the exes on a more cordial playing field. “Dude, I don’t know what’s wrong with it. One moment it’s running fine. The next, it won’t start,” Topper complains, leading Rafe down to the basement. The other boy grumbles, “Yeah, yeah. Just show me where your laptop is. I don’t know why you called me for it. I’m not fucking IT support.” Topper throws him a sheepish smile over his shoulder. “But you are good with computers.” Rafe rolls his eyes, “Stop being a kiss ass. I’m already here.” 

Once at the bottom of the stairs, Topper shuts up and steps out of the way so Rafe can pass through first. The tall man thinks nothing of it and enters the finished basement; however, when he is face to face with his ex-girlfriend, suspicion overcomes him. It is too late though because as he turns to leave the room and ream Topper out for this setup, the door is locked behind him. He rushes to the door, trying to open it even though he knows it is locked. “Topper, you little shit. Open this door.” He is met with silence, so he steps away from it and turns toward Y/N. “What are you doing here?” he questions. 

She rolls her eyes, “Top said he needed help picking out a gift for his mom. Why are you here?” They both know they have been lied to. It’s obviously from the fact that a laptop isn’t in sight and two separate reasons as to why they are there. 

He glares at her. “Oh, you know, Top said I could meet the Queen of England so I thought wow, I gotta get there. Why does it fucking matter? It was a lie.” She scoffs, “See, that. That is why I broke up with you.” He chuckles and runs his hands through his hair. “One. The breakup was mutual. Two. What. What is the reason you ‘broke up’ with me.” She holds out her hand and motions up and down, “Because you are an ass. That’s why. You only care for yourself and that’s it.” 

“Oh, please. We both know that isn’t fucking true.” 

“Right, sorry. I forgot about drugs and alcohol. Those might be pretty high up your list.” 

“STOP PUTTING WORDS IN MY MOUTH!”

His yell has her flinching back and he takes a deep breath while running his hand down his face “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled.” Her arms cross and she stands straighter. “You shouldn’t have,” she chastises. “Look, just because we are locked in here together doesn’t mean we have to talk to each other. I’ll go see if a call can get through. I mean we really should’ve seen this coming. His basement doesn’t get any signals.” 

With her final mutterance, she storms away from him. Her back hits against the wall and she slides down it. He observes as she pulls her phone out, hearing the familiar music of the cat game she enjoys playing sounds through the room. He smiles at the memory of her turning onto her stomach after an eventful night of love-making to play the game. He would always make fun of her and then rest his chin on her shoulder to watch her play over her shoulder. She used to get so excited when she would find the cat she was looking for. A crease in her forehead forms and he laughs. The noise has her staring at him over her phone. “What?” His hand extends toward her hand, “Didn’t get the cat you wanted?” her gaze flicks down to her phone with a frown. God, she hates how much he knows her. “Yes,” she whispers, slouching in embarrassment. 

Silence occurs on them. He shuffles over to the couch and decides to stroll down memory lane. His thumb swipes through the pictures. Her smile is so bright in this one and the sun hits her just right so it adds an extra shine to her eyes. He should’ve deleted all their pictures together when they broke up but he couldn’t bring himself to delete them. So he hid them away in a folder and promised to never look at them again. He hates that a distance has grown between them. He has to fix it.

“The only thing I ever cared about other than myself is you,” he mumbles. “Hmm,” she sounds out, not looking up from her phone. He clears his throat, “I cared- I mean I still care about you. Maybe even more than I care about myself.” He takes a second to think about it. “Actually. I definitely care about you more than myself.” The tone shifts in her room and she puts her phone down. He heads over to her, settling on the floor beside her. She looks him in the eyes and her vision has blurred. “Then why weren’t you there? You promised you would be after all the other things you skipped. The worst thing was that you wouldn’t tell me where you were.” He bites the corner of his lip and reaches into his pocket for his keys. He grows through his keys and holds them out to her, “I was out getting this. I didn’t want to spoil the surprise.” She takes the key ring into her hands and a shiny diamond stares back at her. “You were buying me a ring,” she murmurs. He nods, “I wanted to marry you and I know that this wouldn’t have made up for all the other things I missed, but I was hoping it would show you that I was committed to being with you.”

Everything she has felt for him for as long as she has known him comes cropping up and she takes a chance. “Do you still want to marry me?” she questions. His hand rests on her cheek, “More than anything else in the world.” She grins at him with tears leaking out of her eyes. “Then let's get married.” She presses their lips together and swings her leg over him. His fingers lace through her hair, pulling her in closer than possible. As she begins to grind down into him, a loud crash comes from behind him. “I wanted this to work. However, I didn’t want this to work this well,” Topper gripes. Rafe’s eyes narrow at him. “Get out,” Rafe growls at Kelce and Topper, who are standing in the doorway with wide eyes. Kelce and Topper look at each other with a nod. Topper grabs the doorknob and pulls the door closed. “Don’t stain the carpet!” Topper’s voice pleads through the door, causing the newly reunited couple to laugh together.

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @magicalyoura @rubixgsworld

[mangekyuou]

If you are up to it and haven’t already done it. Could you pretty please write head cannons of the kid, heart, and straw hat pirates as parents. My favorite one is killer.

★ THEM AS PARENTS! headcanons ★

── featuring. sanji. zoro. kid. killer.

── cw. gn!reader. no pronouns used. no mentions of pregnancy. whole cake island and wano spoilers. me rambling again. not proofread.

── notepad. usually my limit is 3 but i added one more bcuz i felt inspired. it’s been awhile since ive written so i feel out of practice and these feel all over the place im so sorry. but i will say, i love you girl dad zoro and killer. i could talk about them forever

★ VINSMOKE SANJI ★

── unlike everyone else, sanji HAS thought about settling down and having kids. he thinks about it at least twenty times a day. every time he looks at you, he’s always thinking about your future together

── so when your twin boy and girl show up in your lives, he couldn’t be happier. he’s never been happier. life is finally coming together the both of you

── he loves your twins with all of his heart, but he would be lying if he said he didn’t want any more children. he’s already dreamed of having a big family that he can share all of his love and care with. and because he already had at least four baby names picked out

── given his own upbringing that he never ever plans to tell your children about, sanji takes his fatherly role very seriously. he does everything in his power to be better than his own father

── never will he allow any of his children to take his surname. he would prefer if they took yours or even adopted a new one altogether

── never will there be any middle child syndrome or favoritism between your kids. he loves each of them equally and does pretty well at spreading out his time with each of them, making all of them feel loved and cared for

── every night he gives everyone a long tearful good night before sending them all their separate ways like he’s never going to see them again….they’re just down the hall

── he is a very emotional father. no matter what your children do, milestone or not, he will sob. first words and steps, sobbing. finally being able to dress themselves, sobbing. nearly setting the kitchen on fire attempting to make him a birthday cake, he sobbed all day and tried to eat the inedible cake despite you telling him NOT to

── he was sick for a few weeks after that. how the cake was both overcooked and undercooked at the same time, neither of you could ever figure it out

── his favorite family activity is cooking together. he loves cooking for each of you, but there’s something about teaching your little ones all of his favorite recipes, or even learning how to make a whole new dish altogether, that warms his heart. plus seeing them all get along and work together as a team brings joyful tears to his eyes

── but he can definitely be the indulgent parent. all his kids have to do is flash him the puppy eyes and a pout and he’s a goner, leaving you to play the authoritative parent and say no

── he is also the affectionate, embarrassing, and petty dad, always smothering the little ones in hugs no matter how old they get

── they could be in their late teens and he’ll still hug them the same as he did when they were small. or he’ll embarrass them in front of their friends by yelling how much he loves them and expects them to say ‘i love you’ back OR he’s not going to let them go anywhere

★ RORONOA ZORO ★

── girl dad

── the thought of being a dad never crossed his mind. he was focused on his goal at hand, becoming the greatest swordsman. he wasn’t exactly sure having a kid would fit in that

── but he was going to have to figure it out because resting in his arms was an infant girl with the most precious cheeks

── you don’t have to worry much about your daughter, even in infancy your daughter adopted your husband’s calm and quiet nature. she even adopted his napping habits

── if he’s asleep out on the deck in the sun, she’s asleep out on the deck, either in his chest or in his lap. and no one dares to wake them, especially not after that time when usopp and sanji were arguing too loud, causing your daughter to stir in her sleep, alerting zoro immediately. in a matter of seconds, he held your baby in one hand and his unsheathed sword in the other

── nap time is a VERY serious thing

── though your daughter’s favorite place to rest is on his back. no matter how awake she may seem, the minute he wraps her in the baby wrap, she’s suddenly very sleepy

── if you’re looking for your daughter and you don’t immediately see her, don’t panic. nine times out of ten, she’s on zoro’s back napping

── she is always present during his training sessions in a little swing franky made and surprised you both with that way he can train and keep an eye on her at the same time. maybe that’s why your little girl ended up showing so much interest in swords as she grew up

── like father, like daughter. your daughter began her road to being a swordsman with zoro as her teacher. he learns from his own past failures, in guiding her to be an even better swordsman than him

── not only giving her the skills she needs to wield a blade, but also skills she will need to grow as a person

── when he is sure he has trained her well enough for them to spar, he will do so without mercy. she may lose a number of times, but to never give up is a skill he instilled in her since the beginning of her training

── and when she finally does best her father, he cannot hide just how proud he is. he’s in all dad mode

★ EUSTASS KID ★

── kid never pictured being in a stable relationship, let alone settling down and having children. he didn’t have much experience with children

── in reality, being a father scared him. it was uncharted waters. he didn’t know the first thing about being a good dad. he knew kids were a lot of work, and he didn’t know if he could handle it

── more importantly, he was worried he was going to let both you and your child down. and he couldn’t live with that

── but here he was now struggling his way through the baby and toddler stages. but through his mistakes and errors, as opposed to getting angry and giving up, like he usually does, he’s gaining patience and trying his best. that’s all anyone could ever ask for

── he becomes a natural over time. no longer needing you to intervene to keep your son from crying up a storm. if it’s taking a little longer than usual to put your son to sleep, and you offer to help, he will decline. his stubbornness and pride won’t allow him to accept your help

── if there’s one thing kid hates more than anything, it’s anyone thinking he can’t take care of his son

── it’s not uncommon to see the captain of the kid pirates to be seen around the victoria punk your son strapped to his chest

── it’s hard to take him seriously when he’s barking out orders to the crew and your excitable little one is reaching up to pinch and pull at his father’s cheeks and nose

── kid claims to not be a dad who cries, but he definitely does cry, oftentimes more than you do

── your son’s first word is definitely a swear word. kid thinks it’s hilarious seeing your son scream fuck

── as your son ages, the more he becomes just like his father. and with age comes the attitude, which does not mesh well with kid’s attitude

── never in a million years would you think you would find kid losing a loud argument to your fussy toddler son about nothing

── and it does not change. it continues to get worse as your son begins to form his own opinions. your son and kid clash even more, leading you to be the mediator between their arguments

── or at points when they stop talking altogether, you have to relay messages to the other because they refuse to be in the same room with each other

── kid wants to start your son off young when it comes to training him, wanting the little one to be hell just like him. if your son expresses interest in learning how to fight, kid is overjoyed but does not plan to take it easy on him just because they’re blood

── if your son has no interest in fighting and wants to lead a peaceful life, kid will be disappointed and it will take some time for it to get out of his system. but he ultimately will support his son’s decisions

── kid has a habit of ruffling your son’s hair or knocking heads as his way of showing affection. that’s just how it has always been since he was born. but the day your son decides to leave the ship to start the new chapter of his life is the first time they share a real hug

★ KILLER ★

── killer is prime girl dad material. king of girl dads, if you will. he’s a natural. well, he becomes a natural after he gets over his fear of holding your daughter

── he has led a complicated life up to this point. it is not something he regrets, but it is something that he worries could affect his family

── these calloused hands have killed, been stained with the blood of dozens, he had lost count. these were not the hands that should hold such a pure soul

── the first time he actually held her was in the middle of the night when she woke up crying in the middle of the night. he pondered on waking you but decided against it seeing you sound asleep. it has been a while since you had gotten a good sleep. you deserved your rest

── he had watched you countless times lull your little one back to sleep. he remembered how you did it, trying his best to keep his shaky hands still, reaching into your little’s crib, gently taking her into his arms

── who knew saying “please don’t cry” in a sweet low voice would be enough to calm her ??

── quite a sight you awoke to, seeing your husband passed out in a chair with your daughter still asleep in his arms

── it became part of his routine, every time she woke up in the middle of the night, he was going to take care of it. when she was old enough to sleep in the bed with the two of you, you better believe she took her place in the middle and kept it well into her late childhood, early teens

── they are attached at the hip. wherever she is, he is and vice versa, no matter the situation

── like the one time the kid called for an emergency meeting and killer could not find you in time so he just took your daughter with him

── everyone was on their best behavior because you had already warned them that if her first word was a swear word you would murder each of them and spread their body parts across the grand line for the sea king to feast upon

── ….they were not going to take the chances

── just your luck, your daughter inherited killer’s luscious hair. no matter what you do to it, no matter how hard you attempt to gel it down, it shoots right back up

── but killer’s got it. he does her hair most days because she prefers it that way they end up matching

── there are two things about killer that he is still very sensitive about. his appearance and his laugh, both things he tries to hide from your daughter. though it is easier to hide his appearance than his laugh

── after everything happened in wano, he was ashamed. he couldn’t bear letting her see him like this. he wanted her to remember him the way he used to look. he wasn’t ready to show her, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever be ready.

── until he was ready, he allows her to place her hands on his mask and put together what she thinks he looks like.

── currently, she envisions him to be a snake monster under his mask

© MANGEKYUOU — do not copy, repost, or translate my works.

[gay-dorito-dust]

hi i was wondering if you could maybe write a clarisse la rue x reader fluff and the reader uses they/them pronouns?

Soft!Clarisse incoming!!! 🦦

‘Ow…’ you groaned as you accidentally moved in a way that didn’t agree with your plethora of injuries as you tried to relax in the medbay. ‘That didn’t go exactly to plan did it?’

Clarisse raised her brows, ‘you think?’ She said incredulously as she gestured to your state as though the answer was blatantly obvious. ‘You almost got yourself skewered out there if I weren’t there to step in.’

‘My hero, always there to save her damsel in distress.’ You laughed lightly but immediately came to regret it when your midsection began to ache and flare up with pain. Clarisse snorted as she reached for the glass of ambrosia from the bedside table, adjusting the straw so that it would be easier for you to take sips from as strawberries, chocolate milk and warm sticky toffee pudding filled your sense. ‘More like pain in my ass who actively tries to test the fates by getting themselves killed.’

‘Isn’t that just the regular demi-god experience?’ You asked, trying to make the situation more lighthearted, but all you could think was how Lilly you were for Clarisse being there when you needed her most. You didn’t like to think of what would’ve happened had you been completely and utterly separated from her and Silena Beauregard; it scared you too much to imagine it and you preferred not to even bother enticing the dark thought. ‘But thank you, for saving me and all…I-‘

‘Don’t.’ Clarisse cut you off.

‘But-‘

‘I said don’t.’ She said more firmly as she stared at you with eyes filled with fury and worry. ‘Don’t you even think it, say it or otherwise. You’re here and you’re safe and that’s all that should matter, understand?’ You smiled sadly at her and reached for her hand, wiggling your fingers at her to take your hand and audibly sighed in relief when she did, her thumb providing you some comfort by caressing the back of your hand; It was weird for a child of ares to be so uncharacteristically soft and gentle but you loved the fact that you were possibly the only person that Clarisse felt comfortable with in seeing her this way.

After all you and Clarisse has this weird will they, won’t they thing going off ever since you bested her in training once on a whim.

‘I understand.’ You said softly, squeezing her hand to reassure her that you were real, that you were with her, that she did arrive in time to stop the killing blow and finished the fight with a rage and absolute ruthlessness of which you have never seen before until then. It was frightening but at the end of the day she was still your Clarisse.

‘Good.’ Clarisse grunts, looking away from you to scratch the brim of her nose, a habit you’ve noticed in recent days that she only did when she was nervous. Really nervous. ‘Good.’ She reiterated, squeezing your hand for good measure. ‘Now get some rest.’ You must’ve looked as though you were about to have a panic attack at the thought of being left alone because Clarisse then added. ‘I’m not going anywhere, you just look exhausted and besides,’ she smiled, ‘I have to keep my damsel in distress safe as they slumber after all.’

You smiled back at her and fell into a relaxed enough state to fall asleep but before you did, you muttered sleepily. ‘My knight in shining armour.’

[itsmealaiah]

Headcanons of bill with a twaekwondo! reader

Contains: nsfw and sfw headcanons, profanity, implied smut, light bdsm, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, some smut, p in v sex

Request by @bkaulitzlover: Do you think you could write about Billy with a tkd girly?Just cuz I do tkd and thought of it.It could be anything tho,I don’t have much details so sorry.If you can’t or don’t want to that’s fine dw

I haven't done headcanons in a little while so i might be rusty 😔

Sfw:

first, and foremost, he'd always go to every single one of your matches, and he would always try to make time for you. It wouldn't matter if he's busy or not, he will support you.

He'd help you learn new things if you're struggling with them, he has a pair of gloves that he'll use to practice with you.

You guys always cuddle after a match, win or lose. He'd be rubbing your back, whispering sweet nothings into your ear as you cry. "i-i thought i was gonna win billy" you whimper. "shh, you'll win the next one, I know it. Those refs were stupid"

Tom would stay far away from you, and he wouldn't tease you. He was scared of getting kicked 😭

Same with bill, when you guys would fight, he wouldn't go anywhere near you.

You wouldn't smoke or anything, and for good reason. You had to keep your body healthy and in shape, so bill would always smoke when he wasn't near you.

You introduced him to a lot of different foods, mainly healthy stuff. You didn't eat junk food much, and bill was surprised to say the least. "Not even doritos?" He gasped the first time he heard this. "not even doritios, that stuff isn't good for you, y'know"

You'd sometimes lecture him on eating junk food, and you would take it away. You'd replace it with something actually good for his body, not just his tastebuds.

Nsfw:

He's such a tease. He's whispering in your ear after you win a match, telling you all the dirty things he'd like to do to you when you get home.

You doing twaekwondo is even better. You are pretty flexible, so you can do any position bill wants with ease, and he loves it.

He'd tie you up with your belt, for sure. You'd always tell him to be careful with it, but he doesn't care. "you're doing so well in that class, you'll have a new one in no time, so it doesn't matter, does it?" he'd whisper in your ear, rocking into you slowly.

It would also be a blindfold sometimes. You gotta make the most of it cmon.

Sometimes, if you're into it, you'd have sex when you lose. He wouldn't force it onto you, and he would only do it if you weren't miserable or crying.

He's such a sweetheart though. He takes his time making love to you. He hates quickies, he prefers hours of long, meaningful sex instead of coming and being done.

He would put his all into being gentle when you lose. He doesn't want to hurt you anymore than you already are.

The belt would also be used for him sometimes when you top. Occasionally, he'd be too tired from a concert so you'd ride him or sit on his face, the belt wrapped tightly around his eyes.

He's very vocal in bed, especially when eating you out. "s'fucking good, love this pussy so much" he would moan into your cunt, his hands on both your hips.

He loves watching you come, it's just his personal thing. Something about your walls squeezing around him gets him so turned on.

Because you're so strong, you can literally just flip you both over with ease, and it shocks him everytime.

"shit, you could've atleast given me a warning baby" he would chuckle. "but that takes all the fun out of it" you'd smirk.

Taglist 1: @madzandmore @20doozers @cosmicck @itsangelll @tomssexdoll

Taglist 2: @tokio-motel @estxkios @ccbunnv @tomsonlyslut @kqulitzlvr

Taglist 3; @roseroseluvrr @ballhair @cherry-rawr @tomkaulitzsjuicyballs @billsdolliest

Taglist 4; @rvzcvx @tvkiohvtel @kieraisupset @bkaulitzlover

Comment on masterlist post to be tagged!

Requests are open! keep sending them in!

[sweet-as-an-angel]

Yandere Allan Headcanons

Warnings: Obsessive Behaviour, Threats, Physical Violence, Just Allan in Love <3, Spoilers for Barbie Movie, No Pronouns Used For Reader Except ‘You’.

The fact that you’ve paid Allan any kind of attention is dangerous in and of itself.

But if you show even a morsel of romantic attention towards him

You’re done for, babs.

We’ve all seen how Allan fights – he will NOT let you go without a struggle.

But let’s start at the beginning. Perhaps you’re a friend of Gloria’s and you get embroiled in the quest to reclaim Barbieland.

Of course, you meet Allan. And, of course, you notice that there’s something…different about him.

Endearing.

For one, he’s the only one of himself – no journalist Allans or fashion model Allans or doctor Allans: just Allan. One of a kind.

You feel bad for him. You wonder if he feels isolated in Barbieland, existing in an echo chamber wherein none of the voices are his.

So, you take it upon yourself to be as kind to him as you can.

You always acknowledge him, always smile whenever he suggests something, always encourage his ideas even when the others would shoot them down.

“I think we should at least give Allan’s idea a try,” you’d say, putting a hand on Allan’s shoulder. To which everyone gives some sound of agreement.

Not that you’d know it, given that Allan doesn’t have muscle or bone, but he’s tense under your gaze, your touch.

At first, he’s completely unaccustomed to this quite frankly positive attention. He’s used to being dismissed at best and ignored at worst, so to have you, a human, tell him that his thoughts and feelings and ideas are valid is…

Intoxicating.

Soon enough, he starts gravitating towards you.

Whenever he enters a room, he’s looking for you, and he can’t explain the flurry in his chest when he finds you.

You both make an effort to get to know each other more. He feels hot all over when you look at him with inquisitive eyes, a shower of questions raining down on him. And he does his utmost to answer each one. A ripple of pride erupting in him when he sees your fascination grow with his every answer.

But when you start to ask questions about him–

He starts to stutter.

“Uh…well–”

“Oh, come on, Allan. Don’t tell me you don’t have a favourite colour!”

If he could blush, he would. He can’t look you in the eyes no matter how mesmerising he finds them.

You smile.

“Well, I’ll go first, then. Mine’s (f/c).”

Allan smiles.

“That’s mine, too.”

It is now. What it was before doesn’t matter.

Every detail you give him, he commits to memory.

Soon enough, he’s got enough information to write an encyclopaedia about you.

He did find that you shared similar interests, though. Like food preferences.

“I’ll have to cook for you sometime when you come to the Real World.”

When? Did you just say when?

“Oh, yeah – totally! That’d be great,”

Not only have you given Allan your time: you’ve given him something deadlier than any weapon, curse, or tool.

Hope.

If you initiate physical contact with Allan, he’s going to crumble.

Nobody – not even any of the Barbies or Kens – have ever touched him before. Even by accident.

So when you, warm, soft, gentle, brush against his arm or his hand, or pat his back or ruffle his hair, he’s floored.

He LOVES laying his head on your thighs and letting you comb your fingers through his hair. Makes him fall asleep every time.

He’s sure that this is what it’s like to be human, to feel. To be left breathless when he didn’t have lungs, to be left wanting more when he’s never had a need for anything immaterial.

With you, he feels full, his hollow interior overflowing with feeling.

The first time it happened – a brush of the hand – he whimpered.

He couldn’t believe it. Neither could you. When you asked him if he was okay, he couldn’t even keep eye contact.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m– fine,”

“Allan~”

With that tone of voice, he knew what you were about to say wouldn’t be good. When he looked at you, he saw you smiling. Devious.

“Are you flustered because no-one’s ever touched you before ?”

“What– no!”

His defensiveness gave him away. You only laughed, but your voice held no malice. You offered him your hand.

“Well,” you said. “To help you feel more comfortable, would you like me to be your first?”

Allan couldn’t hear anything. His mind had shut down. Yet, he managed a nod.

If he could sweat, he’d be drenched.

When you took his hand in yours for the first (and certainly not the last) time, he felt his world grow brighter. Like he was seeing colour for the first time.

Soon enough, he’s orchestrating situations where physical contact is inevitable: like getting into a cramped Dream House elevator. And he has to pretend as if he’s not going to pass out every time it happens.

If any of the Kens or Barbies threaten you, he’s the first to jump to your defence.

“Back off now, or you’ll spend the rest of your life wishing you had.”

Eventually, he ends up going behind your back to threaten them, too. And you’re left wondering why many of your Barbie and Ken friends – despite being brainwashed – are avoiding your path.

The thought of you speaking to anyone else besides him makes his chest burn, but not in the way you did. Not in a way that felt good.

Not that he knew it yet, but this feeling – jealousy – will become a lifelong partner for him: second only to you.

You’d thought Allan was as unassuming as his disposition would lead anyone to believe, but when you’d seen him fight off all those worker Kens just shy of the fringe of the Real World, you were stunned at how capable he was.

“Allan…” you said, breathless, jaw dropped.

He gave you an uncertain look. One that was permeated with the potential for regret.

Had he scared you? Frightened you? You didn’t think he’d ever hurt you, did you? –

His mind was quickly put at ease when you threw your arms around him and pulled him into a hug.

“That was so cool!” You said, squeezing him.

If Allan had a heart, it would have stopped by now. He was sure of it.

He’s never been hugged before. Never hugged anyone. He’s unsure of what to do save for the base instinct to put his arms around you, too.

And once he does, he never wants to let go.

He buries his face into your shoulder. You’re warm. Kind. Your scent is unlike anything he’s ever encountered.

“Don’t worry, (Y/N),” he says, chin to your shoulder. He’s just about holding it together, his breathing shallow, his body ablaze with the feeling of your skin on his.

“I’ll never let anyone hurt you.” He gives you a squeeze. “I promise.”

And, as he looks over your shoulder and sees Kendom Land in its dangerous infancy, he wonders if this feeling – this need to be by your side – will be the end of him. 

And, from within he hears something.

Dull, but there.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

He’s not a human. Not a doll anymore, either. A purgatorious in between.

And now, he has to choose.

Keep you with him here in Barbie– Kendom Land, where he knows how everything works and he can keep an eye on you – where you’ll be his.

Or, come with you to the Real World, where he can be yours completely.

Either way, he’s inescapable. And you don’t even know it yet.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterpost Masterlist

Yandere Masterlist Juicy Original Content <3

[ryry-rebel]

Love Languages W/ Satoru Gojo

Satoru Gojo x Reader Headcannon

Warnings- some sexual innuendos

Pronouns- None

Word count- 619

Content- Fluff, mentions of groping, some sexual innuendos

My Masterlist -> Masterlist

• Gojo’s dominant love language is physical touch

• Like, don’t get me wrong, that’s not his only love language. He loves it when you boost his ego by telling him how handsome he is. And he definitely loves when you surprise him with his favorite sweets. But the guy just LOVES when you touch him, whether that be sexually or not.

• He doesn’t mind if you touch him sexually obviously

• Like, poor man is so damn touch starved

• He craves physical touch. It’s like an addiction for him and you’re the only antidote that will help him

• He will ALWAYS, and I mean always, have his hands on you.

• Where you are doesn’t matter to him.

• He will hold your hand wherever you are, whether that be in a public setting or a more secluded one

• If you’re taking a stroll in the park, he will grab your hand and squeeze it as he rubs his thumb over yours

• If you’re on a mission together, he will immediately grab your hand and give it a reassuring squeeze as he tells you everything will be all right and that he will handle it.

• And being in a crowded area is the same. He will make sure he is touching you in some way or another

• Like, if you’re out to dinner and you guys are sitting on opposite sides of the table, he will make sure his foot is touching yours

• DON’T TRY TO REMOVE HIS FOOT. He will get upset and start pouting like you can get away from his affection anyway

• If you try and kick him away, he will wrap both legs around your foot so you can’t move.

• Or here’s another example- when you guys are cuddling on the couch, DO NOT move. Don’t even think about getting up

• He won’t allow it, and even if you do somehow manage to wriggle free from him, he will get up and follow you anyway

• He would just wrap his arms around your torso and walk with you. That’s definitely annoying, but you secretly like it

• HE JUST NEEDS TO OK

• Sleeping is no exception to this

• This dude will be late to work like he’s ever on time for anything in the first place if you don’t give him cuddles in the morning

• He needs to spend an additional 15 minutes in bed with you cuddling before he starts his day.

• And he wants kisses too and lots of them

• Give him kisses, he doesn’t care where you kiss him

• Kiss him on the lips, neck, forehead, cheek, hand, he’s not picky

• But his favorite kiss is on the cheek don’t ask me why

• Doesn’t matter which sleeping position ya’ll are in either, just as long as he’s touching you.

• He will be the big spoon or the little spoon it doesn’t matter. Although, he prefers being the big spoon because if you’re a girl he enjoys feeling you ;) wink wink if you know what I mean

• He will lay on you with his hands wrapped around your body and his head on your chest as he listens to your soft heartbeat. But if you’re in that position, play with his hair please. He likes it and will beg for you to do it

• Also trace circles on his back please, he likes that too

• If you’re laying your head on his chest with a leg and arm draped over him, he will play with your hair. He loves the feeling of his fingers gliding through your soft locks

• He will always rub your back when you’re laying on him too.

• There just isn’t a way to escape this man’s affection, so don’t try. He’s a leach

[gaymurdersalad]

[ HOWDY Y’ALL! WE INTERRUPT THIS PROGRAM FOR A FUN BROADCAST!

If you haven’t noticed, it’s pride month! That means we’re legally allowed to be gay for an entire month before we have to disappear into our burrows once more! To celebrate the occasion, I decided to do a fun little pride post! ]

[ I’ve gathered all the little fuckers in The Void to poke and prod at them like zoo animals. In other words, I figure they all have some neat identities and wouldn’t mind being interrogated in honor of pride month. I’ll go ahead and turn it over to them, but I’ll say now, no matter how much they kick and scream, I am definitely NOT holding them at gunpoint! This workspace is… definitely OSHA approved. Don’t let them tell you otherwise. Have attem! ]

> This is fucking stupid. Stop waving that gun at me. I’m talking.

> My identity isn’t anything special. I’m just some guy who decided he was a guy way later than everyone else did. I don’t really give a damn what pronouns people use on me because usually they just end up avoiding me at all costs or scampering away like frightened animals.

> I’m bisexual, is that anything? But, like, only bisexual in a sexual way. I could not fucking fathom living a long prosperous life with anyone. How the hell are you supposed to enjoy someone for that long? Getting married seems like a scam. I bet it is. I bet it’s like the invention of Valentine’s Day for greeting card companies. You’re not actually supposed to be in love with someone for that long, it just doesn’t seem possible.

> … My marriage with Dave does not count, that wasn’t an officiated wedding. I’m fairly certain he fished those rings out of a water fountain and pawned his dress off a hooker. I do vividly recall dumpster diving for my tuxedo.

> Uhhhhhh wuh? Hmmmm, I’onno what the hell I am, Old Sport! Fuck!

> Shit, I guess I like everyone. A hole’s a hole. Why the fuck would I discriminate? I think I got a preference for men though! They’re so fuckin’ easy to romance! Unless they’re the likes of Sportsy, then it’s the hardest goddamn thing you’ll ever seduce. He gets real gay when he’s on acid, but then again, I get real gay on cocaine. Man, our wedding was immaculate. Imma tell our kids about it one day!

> Likewise, I’ll be any gender you fuckin’ want me to be. I got like, pocket gender, I can just whip it out on request. Want me to be a dude? Fuck yeah, alright. Want me to be a pretty lady? No goddamn problem at all! I can be both at the same time or one more than the other— who gives a shit? I’m just havin’ fun.

> Good fucking lord, really? That shotgun does not scare me, you orange fool—

> … I have a complicated identity. As any other living organism does.

> I have found that over the years I do not experience sexual attraction and that I experience little to no romantic attraction. I only recall feeling romantically attracted to one person in my entire life. I doubt it will happen again. > And it may seem, uhm... Embarrassing, but I do deviate from your traditional "man's man". In laymen's terms, I do not feel particularly drawn to being male. I am very certain I was born with the intention of being a man, but my mind has refused to accept it. I am not sure why. Instead of feeling like a proper bloke, I feel rather empty. If I could have it my way, I would be some... human silhouette rather than a full fledged man. I do not know. This is idiotic. > I cringe every time someone addresses me in a masculine way. I wish I could simply have no pronouns. I can deal with them because I am indeed a grown ass... person, but I just wish it were not so. Whatever. I am done complaining.

> Oh! That’s very simple, this is really easy.

> I literally don’t have anything going for me at all.

> What with the entire fabric of time being on my shoulders and all, I don’t even think about gender or romance much. I do love being a girl! It’s one of the things I miss most about being alive, actually. Pretty dresses, playing with makeup in the bathroom, trying to curl my hair without burning my scalp— I mean, it sounds horrendous sometimes, but you can’t beat it. Feeling alive and content in your own skin. Just one of those precious things that spawned from the chance of life.

> … Uhm, Uhhh… Men.

> Yeah. I Like Them. I Think… Yes, I Could Probably Date A Man Or Two. I Don’t Know, Employee, Why Did You Pull Me Out Here? You Know I Have Copious Paperwork To Do! Some @$!# $#*@ Kid Just Fell Into The Ball Pit And Got Mauled Jaws-Style And His Parents Are Really Grilling Us For It. Dumb&@#*s, It’s Not My Fault Their Kid Heeded The Call Of The Sirens. I Swear, This Job Is Going To Kill Me Or Force My Hand Into Becoming The Next Purple Guy—

> extremely in love with my wife and my gender!

> it was actually very cute how we met, employee. have i ever told you? heh heh, we met in highschool. she was on the football team and i was a cheerleader, can you believe that? oh, i was head over heels for her instantly. she was strong, she was quick thinking, she was so hecking beautiful, employee… i never got to tell her how i felt while we were in highschool, but we were good friends. very good friends. come a few years later, some old buddies of ours want to have a get together and dish it out like old times… go vandalize and drive off into the sunset in the back of a pickup truck sipping on horrendously cheap beer and laughing off our university work or our jobs. when i get to our spot, though, i see her. i’d recently wised up to my gender, y’know, had my hair cut and fresh scars on my chest, so suffice to say i looked nothing like i did when i cheered for her during football season. she’d done the same, employee— she grew out her hair to the middle of her back in such beautiful dark curls, her bangs tied back so every inch of her perfect face could glimmer underneath the neon lights of the derelict bowling alley we’d found ourselves in. she looked at me, and i sensed instant recognition. she smiled through her bright red lipgloss and rushed up to me, wrapping me up in a hug, and i swear, she hadn’t lost any of those muscles— almost broke my ribs!

> the rest of the night, we were so… comfortable together. sure, during highschool we were close, but without saying a single word about what happened to us between then and now, we understood, and employee— i think it brought us closer. it was around three in the morning while we sat around a bonfire with the rest of our buddies when she layed her head on my shoulder and i felt an unfathomable warmth. i knew i wanted her for the rest of my life.

> … i just love her so much, employee.

> oh ok

> its rlly whatever. any pronouns any gender anybody who wants me. who cares

> oh i do have a preference for girls. theyre pretty. if you disagree u are not blessed enough to be loved by gods best creation and ur pissed about it. i can tell

> what if i was actually catholic would that be fucked up or what

> …

> … I cannot… physically stress how abhorrent sexuality is to me. What… What an utterly damning notion. Someone’s greedy hands cursing you and plaguing your with their own dirty human desires. How disrespectful. How… invasive. Why on Earth would it be my responsibility to supply someone with something to love? Am I really subject to whatever the hell people think of me? Whether they “love” me or perceive me as some… some man, some object of attraction? Disgusting.

> If I could shed every trace of a sex or gender from my loathed corpse, I would. Often times I lay awake at night and consider skinning myself for the hell of it. I’ve related this to David and he said I sounded “fuckin’ insane”. Stupid bastard. I want to be a skeleton. I wanna be a fucking skeleton! Pretty and thin and not alive whatsoever! God damn this accursed body and its… rancid flesh and unidentifiable mystery goop. Ugh. Ugh!!!! God, the biggest blight on my “life” was being cursed with gender!

> I was born as a female which was just laughably wrong, then I recall amending that and trying to become a man, but none of it worked. All of it sucked. All of it was wretched. The ideal form is a ghost or ghoul or skeletal figure. You can’t romance a ghost or ghoul or skeletal figure. Can’t have sex with that. Unless you’re really, really determined. I don’t think even David could be that serious about his sexuality.

> … I… Hope. Oh dear. Oh god, I really am unsafe from the horrors of this world. God, I wish that bear had taken me out before I showed him to his grave.

[colourstreakgryffin]

Moxie and millie + genderfluidy/n who is their adopted imp child platonic headcanons

Haha! Awwww! Let’s gooo~! M&M deserve their own baby! I’ll try my best to handle a Genderfluid coming out and Genderfluids as a whole, please forgive me if I’m handling you wrong. I’m not perfect! As usual… a bit short but I really like this one!

Moxxie and Millie- Appling

Moxxie is that loving doting father who is so clingy and sobs over his child being so precious. Like Blitzø, he wants to be a better parent than his own so he gives you unconditional love and support, he’ll always listen to you and he’d die to protect you. He never pushes you into anything you don’t want. He takes up a parenting style similar to his late mother

Millie, on the other hand, kinda sticks more to the way she was raised as a country gal but she doesn’t try to parent you like some callous tough southerner or to be like that, she only wants you to be tough enough to handle yourself and protect yourself! She is affectionate and kissy like Moxxie and especially loves giving you piggyback rides!

You are always holding one of their hands; either one, it doesn’t matter. One of your parent is always nearby if the other isn’t. Some days, Millie is with you all day and other days, Moxxie is with you all day! They trade looking after you singlehandedly and guarding you but don’t blame them for being cuddly and snuggly. They LOVE you deeply

Moxxie and Millie are the type of parents to always buy you presents, small or big. Rather you worked for them or not! They love you and they’ll pick up whatever thing they find they think you’ll like. Their spoiling mannerisms grow during your birthday

Moxxie and Millie bring you to get together with your maternal family once a month so you can grow familiar with Millie’s family. You’re always welcomed in with open arms and Sallie Mae adores playing with you, she’ll ask to babysit you at times

However. Never ever suspect you’ll meet your paternal grandfather, both of your parents refuse to let you meet Crimson… just. Nothing more, just that you’ll never know who Crimson is and your parents will actively avoid you being anywhere near that mafia boss

Moxxie doesn’t want you using weapons like guns and knives but Millie wants you to know self-defence so you’re split inbetween both… both knowing self-defence and not knowing self-defence

Moxxie and Millie love to bring you to cafés. Like those cute homely cafés with coffee and pastries. It’s kinda a ritual now, they’ll take you to your favourite and they remember your regular. It’s a great time since it’s a peaceful bonding time of you and your parents

Honestly… people are always surprised when Moxxie or Millie explain that you’re adopted… you look JUST like them. Not even just because you’re a Imp but because you just look like their lovechild

Moxxie and Millie are very accepting parents so when you finally get the courage to come out, the older you get, that you’re genderfluid. They both support you without any problem, and ask your pronouns every day so they can correctly identify you

Millie is more violent with her protectiveness over you than Moxxie is, so if you’re being bullied, both will try to resolve your problem differently and both are equally stubborn. Moxxie will give a big harsh lecture to your harassers whilst Millie will beat them with a inch of their life

Moxxie and Millie have those cute solo parent days with you as well. A mother-child day and a father-child day where both arrange fun events with you. Either way, you’ll come back covered in presents and with your father or mother having the time of his or her life! It’s precious

Moxxie and Millie prefer to leave you at home so you don’t have to see their job, mainly because you’re quite safe when you’re back at home and you don’t spend time around I.M.P, especially around Blitzø and his daughter, Loona since they consider those two bad influences on you

Yeah… Moxxie is also the type of father to cry hysterically when you do anything ‘adult’ since he is watching his precious baby grow up right in front of him. Millie‘s that type of mother to comfort them encourage you to try ‘adult’ things as you grow up, even if both would prefer you to stay as their little appling of their eye

Moxxie and Millie are a mixture of strict and loose. They’ll enforce rules of the house to protect you and ensure you know right from wrong as suspected but as soon as the punishment is over, both Knotlastnames are tackling you to pepper your cute squishy face with all the love their hearts carry for you

Moxxie and Millie are also the type of parents to always invite your friends over, rather you know or not. They like knowing who your friends with and they’ll happy cook for your friends, they’ll happily pick up your friends, they’ll happily chat with your friends. Both of your parents encourage your friends, if you’re happy, they are happy

This beautiful couple really is the best parents in Hell. You’ll grow up loved and cared for in all manners, happy with your gender identity and capable of being a perfectly functional adult!

“Oh, sweetie… you’re not wrong for feeling like this. I understand that you don’t feel like a girl today, but feel like a boy. That’s called being Genderfluid, cakepop. Listen to me, Mama and I will always love you across all the Rings, no matter who you love or what gender you say you are”

“Pumpkin-spice… no, no, no. Do’n ya’ cry now. Papa is so proud of’ou, I’m so proud of’ou, for final’y tellin’ me your feelin’s. I know it’s scary but we’re here for you. You do’nt want to be call’d a boy but a they/them? You’re our precious cinnamon-roll with whatever gender, never forget that”

[mimicdive]

Proof of Concept?

Summary: Bi!Reader feels insecure in their sexuality and Spencer offers validation. Word Count: 933 Content Warnings: referenced/implied biphobia, no pronouns are used but reader is AFAB, mostly dialogue Author's Note: written for @imagining-in-the-margins's Pride Challenge! written as a combination of the bisexual prompts :)

-

As pride merch began to weave its way back into mass-consumer culture, large chains preparing for Pride Month, you couldn’t help the niggling of doubt in the back of your mind. Growing up, sexuality wasn’t an open topic of discussion in your family, and though you’d eventually been able to figure it out on your own with the help of the internet, social media, and several very attractive celebrities, it wasn’t uncommon for you to feel insecure in your sexuality. Bisexuality, despite its status as one of the most common sexualities in the queer community, was often overshadowed, both in your life and in the larger community.

Of course, it was easy to fall into stereotypes–bi with a preference for women, yet still dating a man. Not that you could complain about Spencer, he was everything you’d ever wanted and more. Yet, that doubting of your sexuality still bothered you from time to time. Were you really bisexual if you’d never been romantically involved with a woman? If the only kisses you’d ever shared with a woman were fleeting and meaningless? When the only romantic interests you’d pursued had been male?

It was difficult to articulate, even more difficult to say aloud. Many of your close friends were straight and were unable to offer more than comfort. And your boyfriend…well. You weren’t unhappy in your relationship with Spencer, far from it. Part of you was worried that a discussion about your sexuality would cause him to feel insecure in your relationship, and that was the last thing you wanted. Another more irrational part of you, built out of feelings of shame and doubt, feared that he would confirm your worries and invalidate your sexuality.

Logically, you knew Spencer wasn’t that kind of person. Armed with this knowledge, you brought it up after dinner one night as you were perched together on the couch, watching an old foreign film with a name you wouldn’t even attempt to pronounce.

“Do you think that it’s weird?” you blurted out.

Spencer furrowed his brow and paused the movie. “Do I think that what is weird?”

“That I say I’m bi even if I’ve never been in a relationship with a woman? Or even pursued one?”

Inhaling sharply, Spencer frowned. “Is this your way of telling me you want to pursue a relationship outside of ours?”

You shook your head vigorously. “No, no, not at all. It’s just…you know, Pride is rolling around soon, and it caused a thought spiral, seeing the merchandise resurfacing in stores. I mean, am I really valid in my identity if there seems to be nothing indicating that I am truly attracted to women?”

Spencer visibly relaxed when you clarified that this was nothing about your relationship. He moved closer to you, taking your hand in his and interlacing your fingers.

“Love, there’s nothing wrong with being queer in a straight-passing relationship. And not having previous involvement in romantic relationships with someone of the other gender doesn’t mean that you’re not bi. Sexuality isn’t defined in concrete terms. It’s fluid, and it’s a different experience for many people. Plus, you don’t need to prove it to anyone. You can be attracted to women and never have been in a relationship with one. How you feel is how you feel.” He paused and cleared his throat. “Plus, I’ve seen how you look at the women in your favorite shows.”

Your face heated, and you groaned. 

“And in public, for that matter,” he added with a chuckle. 

You buried your head in your hands. “I was just admiring their outfits…”

“It’s understandable for you to feel the way you do,” Spencer stated, voice taking on a more serious tone. “Society places a lot of pressure on labels and certain boxes you have to conform to if you identify with any label. We’re told how we can and can’t present ourselves. But really, all that matters is that you’re true to yourself. And at the end of the day, you don’t need to have a label if it’s causing undue stress.”

“It feels like I had everything figured out about my sexuality when I was younger. I knew I liked men, and I knew I liked women, and everyone and anyone in between. I didn’t care what other people thought. But now that I’m older, it just feels like I’ve adopted a label that doesn’t matter. All people see is that I’m dating a man, and they make assumptions based on that,” you sighed.

Spencer brought your hand to his mouth and kissed it. “Like I said, it’s about what’s true to you, not anyone else. You’re no less valid for being in a relationship with a man than a bisexual woman would be for being in a relationship with a woman. Bisexual erasure is unfortunately common, even in the LGBTQ+ community, with people preferring absolutes–you’re either ‘gay’ or ‘straight’ or it’s too complicated. You don’t have to ‘pick a side’.”

You felt tears welling up as the burden you’d learned to ignore seemed to dissolve, lifting an immense weight from your shoulders. It’d been eons since you’d allowed yourself to open up and discuss your anxieties about your sexuality in this manner, and to find yourself supported and seen by one of the most important people in your life was ultimately reassuring.

“I love you, you know that?” Spencer whispered. “Your sexuality isn’t going to change that.”

“I love you too.” You paused, squeezing his hand. “Thank you.” 

He kissed your forehead as you settled back in, starting the film from where you’d left off.

[kaeyas-beloved]

Character: Childe

— he’s hopelessly in love with you <333

CWs: spoilers for Childe’s real name, gn!reader (no pronouns mentioned), not proofread!

a/n: snatching this format that I’ve seen around Tumblr because I like it and it fits here. Will I use it again? Not a clue!

hopelessly in love ajax who introduces you to his family relatively quickly and with little to no hesitation. childe feels with his whole being, love is no exception. so, when he can see a future with you, no matter what form that future may take, you meeting his family is the first step forward.

hopelessly in love ajax who’s all talk unless you make the first move. he can kiss you over and over and over again, teasing you along the way, but the moment you pull him forward and plant your lips on his face before he can is the same moment it’s all over for him.

hopelessly in love ajax who buys you gifts often but they all have sentimental value to them. he’ll but you flowers, handing them to you with the confession that he bought them because his love for you was too much to keep in his heart and no amount of words would describe what he was feeling. childe would also purchase your preferred jewelry - watch, ring, necklace, earrings, a bracelet, whatever you liked, as long as you promised to wear it whenever you went out. “so you’ll always have me with you!”

hopelessly in love ajax who refuses to let go of you once he has you in his arms. he acts like he might perish if he loses the warmth and love you radiate in your embrace! it’s not that he hasn’t received a hug in years, he gets plenty when he visits home, but there’s just something different in your hugs and cuddles that regular holds don’t have. a certain feeling they lack.

hopelessly in love ajax who grabs your wrist if you’re ever helping him take off his scarf or fatui mask, allowing his cheek to rest in your palm. you’ll find he nuzzles into it much like a cat would, but unlike a cat looking for warmth or to scratch an itch, ajax does it because your touch is one of the few things that soothes him after a long day, his mind instantly at ease.

hopelessly in love ajax who tries to impress you in any way he can. it starts simple enough, trying to flash his strength on the battle field and such, but the more he falls for you the more creative he gets. balancing a spoon on his nose, his (slowly improving) chopstick skills, leaping over decent sized creeks, anything to rouse some kind of pleasant response from you.

hopelessly in love ajax who flips between drowning you in whatever fancy dates his money can buy and the more simple, quieter date ideas. it’s never bad to change things up, he reasons, childe’s favourite being to take you out on walks through the nation’s scenery. whether it’s the snow dipped forests in snezhnaya, the golden mountains of liyue or even the green fields of mondstadt, as long as ajax is around, he’ll make sure you enjoy your time with him. (he certainly will be, because when dates like this happen is when he truly gets to connect with you!)

hopelessly in love ajax who’ll sometimes just stare at you. could be while you’re cuddling or sat at the table for a meal, his pretty blue eyes are on you, taking in all that you are. he’ll think how gorgeous you look, how luck he is someone like you loves someone like him, the darker sides of him and all. he thinks about how it’s now his mission to spoil and love you for the rest of his life, because anything less is a crime punishable by life behind bars.

Tag list: @spoopy-fish-writes // @that-enby-alien // @xenuuu // @mariposa666haruka // @quackquackmfs // @saishin-michiyoshi // @ajaxstar // @genshin-impact-writings // @ventisweetheart // @lordbugs // @lemontum // @akiria12167 // @ari-the-wr1ter // @dontmindmebeing // @xiaos-wife // @irethepotato // @milkwithspiceyicecubes // @stygianoir // @stage-lucida

. . .

Wanna be tagged in future works? Consider filling out this form! And if you want to be removed just DM or send an ask into my inbox!