#at least as far as i have experienced. but this is the first time a literal audience in anything has actually worked bc it's like—

[jgracie]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ SPEED DRIVE!

ferrari driver!percy jackson x fem!reader

masterlist | rules

warnings one swear word!

on the radio . . . speed drive (charlie xcx)

percy knew it was a bad idea leaving his house without at least a pair of sunglasses to conceal his identity. he was craving cookie dough ice cream, the grocery store wasn’t too far away and it was the middle of the night - who would possibly recognise him at a time like this?

the answer is many people. while percy did love his loyal fans, both tifosi and others, even he had to admit they were a little crazy. all it took was for one to snap a photo and post it on twitter and the rest seemed to immediately spawn all around him

“percy, is it true that luke might lose his seat next year?” he heard one voice say as he attempted to weave through the thick crowd of people. why couldn’t he have one second of peace? unfortunately, percy had made another awful decision that night - walking to the grocery store

this left ferrari’s golden boy with two options: either tough out the wall home with fans and paparazzi alike swarming him, or find someone who was willing to drive him home. with cars on the street in front of him were stationery thanks to the red light, percy made his decision

he bolted for the first one that caught his eye, a car that was small, (ironically) bright red and most importantly had an open roof. percy also had to admit the driver was kind of pretty, at least from what he could see from that far away

the light turned yellow and you prepared yourself to continue driving. you’d only recently gotten your drivers license and this was your first time driving without someone more experienced with you in the car, so you were just praying to end up at your apartment in one piece

just as the light became green and you began to drive, some random guy jumped into the passenger seat of your car, causing your heart rate to increase dramatically and your foot to immediately press on the brakes - out of shock or fear (or both), you weren’t sure

“drive!” he nearly yelled at you. you just stared at him, your mouth agape. it was way too late at night for this. at your state, percy huffed and leaned over to the wheel, beginning to steer for you

this snapped you out of the daze you were in and you slapped his hands away, your brows furrowing in anger as you drove, “who the fuck are you and what do you think you’re doing in my car? i’m pulling over right now, you need to get out.”

“no, please, i promise i didn’t mean any harm! can you just drop me off at my house?” he asked. you didn’t need to look at him to know he was incredibly desperate. who was this guy? as you recalled his face from when he first got into your car, you realised he did look a little familiar, but you still couldn’t figure out his identity

at your silence, percy continued, “i’ll do anything, do you like car racing? i can get you tickets for that!”

okay, so he was rich rich. you didn’t know the first thing about racing, but one of your friends was obsessed with formula one. specifically, a driver called peter jameson (or something along those lines). still, you rolled your eyes at his offer, disliking the way he attempted to bribe you

“no, it’s fine, you don’t have to do anything. where do you live?”

after percy told you his address, the car ride was silent. neither of you knew what to say to the other. you were still shaken by his sudden appearance, and percy was trying to conceal the blush that coated his cheeks. he was right, you were beautiful. the moon made your skin glow and your eyes brighter. from the death grip you had on the wheel, percy could tell you were new at driving. cute

“thanks a lot, you have absolutely no idea how much you helped me tonight,” percy said as he got out of your car. part of you was a little sad to see him go. sure, he freaked you out, but something about him was magnetic - maybe it was those sea green eyes that put all of poseidon’s oceans to shame, or the light dusting of freckles you hadn’t noticed until now

giving him a small smile, you said, “you’re welcome. have a good night.” you stayed for a little and watched as he entered his home, a bittersweet feeling tugging at your heart

once you’d gotten home, you noticed he’d left something on the passenger seat. a strip of paper with a line of messily scrawled numbers lay on the leather

call me. (917) 173-1839 — PJ

[izvmimi]

cw: suggestive but no overt smut.

after sex, tanjiro tends to be the one to do the talking - not just because a lot of the time you're still catching your breath and your head spins with the haze of too much attention and too much pleasure, the kind that keeps your body quivering as you hold on to him, snuggling close so that all that grounds you is his scent,

but because he tells you how much he loves you, how lucky he is, how fate twists in mystical ways, must have, for you to end up together. it's hard for you to get used to being adored in such a way, but with time it gets easier to rest close to him and just let his words sweeten your ears.

but tonight is different. your head presses against his chest and his sweet utterances, as his fingers stroke down the curve of your leg rested against his lower half, are accented by the backdrop of the soft lub-dub of his heartbeat.

it doesn't feel real. it doesn't feel real.

you let out a deep breath. tanjiro pauses his speech for a moment then turns his head gently to kiss the top of yours.

"what's the sigh about, my love?" he asks.

you pause, letting your weary arms wrap around his midsection tighter. he's real, warm, his skin luminous and smooth in a thin layer of sweat, his touch ever present on your skin. he's marked you everywhere, endlessly, inside and out.

he's real and he's yours. and yet...

"it'll sound silly," you start.

"never," he reassures you. you let yourself breathe slowly, in and out, then lower your eyes so that you focus more on the dip between his clavicles than his all-too-inquisitive eyes. tanjiro sees through you like glass, and thinks you're just as fragile at times, and perhaps you are but you need to be taken seriously.

"sometimes i wake up and despite knowing all of this is insane but real and that if i tried to explain this to anyone from my time, i'd immediately get brought to a hospital, the least real part of this might be you."

tanjiro blinks, and then he laughs to himself.

"you've encountered demons for the first time in your life, yet i'm the one that's not real?" he repeats, and your cheeks warm, but you shake your head. it's silly, so silly, but it has to be said even if he'll tease you dotingly for it.

you've never experienced love like this. people have lusted after you many times before but this type of genuine care... it feels far more all-encompassing with so much less effort, like you don't deserve it, like decadence, like daydreaming too long, like eating more than your fill, like...

good things are earned, but tanjiro has never made you work hard for his affection a day in your life.

"you're not imagining this." he reassures you. his hand intertwines with yours, and presses it gently against his heart, and he smiles - he smiles, and your world is sun and light and peace again. "it beats, like yours. for you, even," he adds.

heat shoots through your body again and you shift, your legs pressing together, and your head pressed closer against his chest.

"i love you," you whisper, wetly.

he rubs your back and kisses your forehead. "me too. endlessly."

[ozai-the-bonsai]

Cry for the Moon

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 |

Pairing: Zuko x firebender!reader

Warnings: some strong language here and there

A/N: I am sorry for the long wait, the inspiration was failing and I didn't want to write something half-heartedly just for the sake of posting something. This is a long chapter and I loved writing it! Hope you enjoy this one as well, let me know what you think about it in the comments!

Taglist: @annonymatic @yoongiesstar @lost-inthe-v0id @lokigodofmyheart @4l3x1s @potato87123 @asciendo @angelruinz @unamused-boss @junieshohoho @yourlivewire @itszzmoon @coolgirl458 @vyliie @6000-fandoms @aerikim246 @feitansrisingsun @xenop0p @saikikusouswife @marsbars09

Using a tank train to chase the Avatar and his friends could have been the best idea you had come up with so far.

With the giant flying bison shedding its white fur all over the place while it flew, it had been quite easy to keep track of them – actually, it had been rather too easy. The whole night, the tank train didn’t let the Avatar and his friends get the slightest bit of sleep.

You had been on their necks all the time, just like a shadow following.

Azula put her hand into the water to grab a hold of some patches of fur, she lifted to examine them. They had chased the Avatar and his friends to a river side surrounded by a forest. Given that they were sleep deprived and too tired, they weren’t going to last longer.

“Wads of wet fur.” Mai spoke dryly. “How delightful.”

Some birds were singing under the warm sun – it was a nice, warm sunny day which reminded you of the upcoming summer.

“They are not wads, they are more like bundles, or bunches?” Ty Lee seemed thoughtful as she tried to find the right word to describe the fur swimming in the river. She scratched her head. “It’s got an ‘uh’ sound.”

You giggled. “I know this feeling – you will keep think about that word until you finally find it.” You grimaced. “It is super annoying.”

“I know!” Ty Lee agreed with you as she swung her arms in an exaggerated manner, her long braid swinging in the process.

“Clumps?” Mai suggested with the same, dry tone.

Ty Lee’s grey eyes shone with happiness as she clasped her hands together. “Clumps! They are clumps!” She hugged Mai, who didn’t even bother returning the embrace. You rolled your eyes at her dullness – it drove you insane sometimes, which made you wonder how you had managed to be best friends with her for all those years in the first place.

You were a passionate individual and you expected your friends, or the important people in your life in general, to share your passion and enthusiasm from time to time. However, you didn’t recall experiencing such an occasion with Mai.

Turning your attention to Azula, who was standing by the river, you raised an eyebrow at her. “All the fur in the river makes you wonder whether that thing simply flew over or instead dived into the water.”

Mai pointed in the direction of the trail, which lead into the forest. “The trail goes this way.”

For a moment, Azula looked in the direction of the trail as she carefully considered her options, then she looked upwards. Following her gaze, you too spotted the broken treetops. A frown appeared on your face. “Well, I don’t know many creatures that can cause something like this.”

Upon hearing your remark, Mai and Ty Lee looked into the direction you were pointing at. Perhaps they finally realised that the bison was causing them all the trouble by shedding its fur, you thought as you crossed your hands over your chest. They could have washed it, which would explain all the fur in the river.

“The Avatar is trying to give us the slip.” Azula said, you felt like you two had the same or at least similar chain of thoughts. The Princess pointed to the broken treetops. “You three head in that direction and keep your eye out for the bison.” Then, she turned her gaze to the fur trail. “I will follow this trail.”

You placed your right hand on her shoulder. “Do you believe that the Avatar awaits you alone, on his own?”

Azula nodded. “It would make sense for the other three to take the bison, the Avatar can move more easily when he is alone.”

“Oh, yeah – flying, you are right.” You said, you tended the forget the fact that he was the last airbender. “In that case, you will be perfectly fine on your own. I would rather accompany you; however, with the new earthbender girl in their group, I believe the girls need a firebender on their side.”

After a while you all mounted your mongoose lizards and started riding towards the different paths, a specific pair of traces caught your attention. They were the traces of an ostrich horse. You raised an eyebrow as you turned back to look at the trace. I though he had lost us along the way some time.

During the early hours of the morning, you had noticed someone following the tank train from afar. Even though the distance was simply too much for you to make out who the person was, there had been one very prominent feature on their face that gave out their identity almost immediately.

The scar.

However, after a few hours, you had lost sight of him; hence, you didn’t bother letting Azula know that Zuko had been using your trail to hunt down the Avatar. As it turned out, he wasn’t really gone – he had probably taken a short cut. And considering the traces, he was headed the same way as Azula.

You stopped your mongoose lizard abruptly, causing Mai and Ty Lee to stop as well. Mai sent you an annoyed look. “What is it?”

“I think I saw some earthbending traces back there, inside the forest.” You lied without even thinking twice. “The earthbender girl must have taken a separate way – you two go after the bison and the Watertribe people, I will hunt down the earthbender.”

Mai shrugged. “Whatever you say.”

Ty Lee waved at you before going back on track. “Good luck – be careful with the flying rocks!”

You smiled softly at her words. “And you watch out for the waterbender!”

After making sure the girls were both out of sight, you turned your mongoose lizard back and started following the track Zuko’s ostrich horse left. This time, I am going to face you instead of going back home in tears. You thought with a determined expression on your face, your amber eyes lacked the slightest bit of warmth inside them. And you are going to answer for what you have done to me.

[Time Skip]

Zuko shouted in a mixture of surprise and fear as you jumped in front of his ostrich horse with your mongoose lizard.

He was wearing a brown, sleeveless robe with a dark green, long-sleeved shirt and dark green pants underneath. You couldn’t help yourself but raise an eyebrow upon seeing how different his hair looked – it wasn’t in a top not anymore. Apparently, after your last encounter with him, he had cut off his hair and let it grow longer.

Bringing yourself back to the present moment and to the task at hand, you got off the mongoose lizard and crossed your hands over your chest. The long sleeves of your crimson, wrap shirt dangled with the wind. “Wipe that shocked expression off from your face, Zuko – we both knew this day would come.”

Your words had been enough to push the shock away from his features, which left its place to something that resembled mostly fury. The Banished Prince dismounted his ostrich horse with a frown. “What do you want?”

“Answers,” you spoke with a voice as cold as ice, your amber eyes were dark. “You are going to answer for what you have done to me that very day.”

At first, Zuko’s eyes widened with you mentioning the day he left the Fire Nation; however, he quickly gained control over his emotions and put back the frown. “I don’t have any time to waste,” he muttered with an annoyed tone as he tried to walk past you. Without even thinking, you punched forward, sending a wave of flames towards him.

Once again, Zuko was taken aback by your cold-heartedness. When he came back to his senses, it was almost too late – the Banished Prince rolled backwards to escape the flames in time.

“I didn’t ask whether you wanted to go through with this or not,” you said coolly as you broke your stance to stand straight. “After all, why should I show the slightest bit of concern to someone who didn’t even flinch while shattering my whole soul to a million pieces?!”

Towards the end, your voice became louder and louder, until the point you ended up screaming at his face.

Zuko spoke your name softly, which had your heart melting almost immediately as if he hadn’t been the cause of all that had hurt you over the last years. “Let this go, please – it has been three years and…”

Not even letting him finish, you interrupted him – the fury was raising within you, blinding your sight, and blurring your mind. At that moment, all you wanted to do was to scream out every buried thought, every silenced cry at him until you couldn’t speak anymore.

“So, is time supposed to magically make me forget everything you did, everything you said?” You asked scornfully as you pointed at him with your index finger in an accusing manner. “You… You said I was a burden, a baggage, a fucking deadweight!”

Zuko said your name once again. “Please… I am…”

You were shaking your head almost hysterically, you could feel the tears running down your cheeks. This was the mental breakdown you had been trying to avoid having for weeks now. “How can you expect me to forget that?!”

[Flashback]

“Please, let me come with you.” You whispered as you tried to turn your face away – you kind of felt ashamed for you were crying in front of Zuko’s whole crew. He cupped your face and made you look at him as he gently wiped away the tears leaving you amber eyes. “Zuko, I… I don’t know how to live here without you. I have… I have had you with me ever since I could remember…”

Even though his left eye was bandaged as a result of his father’s unthinkable cruelty, you could still see the tears forming in his right eye. But he managed to control his emotions not to show any weaknesses in front of his crew. “Love, we have talked about this,” he whispered towards your lips before leaving a small kiss. “I will be back before you know it. I promise.”

You shook your head – you didn’t want to stay in the Fire Nation while he went on this impossible journey to find the Avatar, who had been presumably already dead for centuries! A part of you knew that his journey was probably never going to end.

The simplest thought of not getting to see Zuko ever again made you want to throw out. You couldn’t imagine your life without him for you hadn’t known it otherwise. He had always been there, with you, and all your life, you grew up with the belief that you were going to become his wife someday.

The arranged marriage, which had been decided when you were born, was the main reason for you to grow up with Zuko – yes, but it also allowed this purest love of all to bloom between you two. From childhood best friends to childhood crushes and to young lovers.

He carried a piece of your heart and whether he wanted it or not, a part of you was going with him.

“Why?” You asked with a low voice. “Why won’t you take me with you?”

Zuko placed his lips on your forehead to leave a small kiss before speaking. “Your place is here, in the Fire Nation, where you can continue your studies and your training to pursue your dreams.” Slowly, he turned his look away from your eyes. “I would never forgive myself if I took that away from you.”

You pressed your lips against each other to silence a sob that dared to escape. “My place is with you…”

“My decision is final,” Zuko spoke with a soft voice, which carried still enough authority to put an end to your continuous attempts to change his mind. “But I am going to miss you more than anything...”

It felt impossible to form words, let alone talk. Hence, you placed your lips on top of Zuko’s instead of wasting time talking.

After the long farewell, you went home quickly to get the small gift you wanted to give to Zuko before he set sail in a few hours. You wanted to give him something that would bring him good luck on his mission and also make him remember you every time he looked at it.

It was the small replica of a red dragon made of metal, which hung at the end of a black chain. You thought Zuko could hang it by his desk or by his bed, keeping it in his personal space where he didn’t need to wear his façade anymore.

As you approached the ship, you could hear some voices coming from up on board. Upon hearing someone from the crew mentioning your name, you stopped in your tracks to listen to what was being said. You could already see Zuko standing with his back facing you, talking to that crewmate.

“My Prince, please forgive me for asking but,” the crewmate spoke with a respectful tone. “Why didn’t you allow her to join us?”

You heard Zuko heave a sigh before speaking. “I am afraid she would only be a burden to us – like baggage, she would just slow us down.” The gift of good luck you held slowly slipped between your fingers and fell onto the ground. Zuko shook his head. “I cannot allow any deadweight on board – and if any of you should become one, I will not hesitate to send them back!”

Biting your lower lip to silence your sobs, you turned back and ran away without even saying anything to Zuko, without facing him and without wishing him one last goodbye. You wanted to believe he was lying but the way he talked as he uttered those venomous words had been just too real, too true.

After that day, nothing was going to be the same for you.

[Flashback ends]

Wiping the tears away, you asked with a weak voice. “Why?”

Zuko turned his eyes away, his shame radiated off his body. “Does it matter?” He muttered. “After what I made you go through, does it really matter why I said what I said?”

You shook your head as a hysterical laughter left your lips. “Still, you are incapable of looking me in the eye and say it – say that you thought I was weak.” You didn’t realise it as the flames started to form around your clenched fists. “Say that you have lied to me every single day!” Control slowly slipped away from your fingertips. “You have never even loved me!”

What came next had been a shock to both of you.

As you screamed your sorrows away, you shot the flames – which had been growing around your fists – directly at Zuko. This was probably the very first time that you attacked him the same way you would attack any of your enemies. The reflection of the flames was visible in Zuko’s amber eyes and he seemed to be paralyzed – he had never met this side of you, he had never really been on the other side.

If he had dodged the flames with his firebending a second too late… Well, let’s say it would have been really unpleasant.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” Zuko screamed at you, still not returning your attack as you circled each other. “Why would you attack me like that? And… and why would you say that I have never loved you?”

“If you had loved me, even just a little,” you told him as you stopped moving in a circle to point at him with an accusing manner. “You would have never hurt me the way you did.” Raising an eyebrow at his direction, you asked sarcastically. “Do you like the person you have turned me into?”

Zuko shook his head. “No, I didn’t do this to you,” he said with a low voice. “This is you under Azula’s influence.”

His words made you throw your head back and let out a laughter that had the hints of condescending, amusement, and little bit… craziness?

“Oh, you do believe that Azula is manipulating me into being one of her puppets?” You asked with genuine curiosity in your voice as you realised the seriousness surrounding Zuko’s features. “My dear Zuko, you have never been more wrong in your life – I am with Azula because I want to, because I deeply care about her. And no, this,” you pointed at yourself, “is not her doing. I should thank you for giving me the push to become more invincible than ever.”

It was hard to understand what was going on inside Zuko’s mind for his amber eyes didn’t give it all away; however, you could feel the hints of longing, disappointment, and jealousy circling around him all at once. It felt like an emotional turmoil.

His voice almost cracked when he spoke. “So, you… replaced me with her?”

At first, you wanted to say that you had replaced him with Shuzi, but you quickly realised that it wasn’t true. Shuzi had a different spot, and it was under no circumstances close to that of Zuko – his place wasn’t completely occupied. However, it wouldn’t be wrong to say that Azula was the only person closest to that very place in your heart.

You pursed your lips. “Well, you can say that – to a certain extent. Speaking of Azula,” you moved away from Zuko’s way as you walked towards your mongoose lizard. “Despite how much I do want to fight you, it is Azula’s destiny to be the one who faces you. Thus, I am going to let you be on your way.” Upon seeing the shocked expression on Zuko’s face, you shrugged. “I have already given her a head start.”

Remembering what his main goal was – he had completely forgot about the Avatar – Zuko quickly mounted his ostrich horse. “You were wrong though,” he said as he rode past you, his voice was low but still, you could hear him. “I did love you. Every single day.”

With that, Zuko disappeared from your sight, leaving you with more questions than you initially had before finally facing him.

[Time Skip]

After Zuko was gone, you returned to join Mai and Ty Lee, only to find both of them soaking wet, sitting by the river. Using your firebending to dry them both, you told that the earthbender girl had escaped from you by going underground like a badgermole. Not long after, Azula joined you three as well, she seemed quite tired.

As you all rode back to the tank train on your mongoose lizards, the Princess told you what had happened: how the enemies and the traitors had worked together to corner her and how she had shot Uncle Iroh with fire to create enough diversion to escape. You couldn’t help yourself but feel terrible for Iroh – you didn’t think he deserved to be Azula’s victim – but you kept your thoughts to yourself.

“Mai told me you didn’t go with her and Ty Lee,” Azula said as you two walked towards the tank train. Mai and Ty Lee were already inside. “Did you really chase the eartbender girl?”

You shook your head, you weren’t going to lie to Azula. “I actually chased Zuko, I just needed a valid excuse to go on my own way without… you know, letting Mai involve herself as well.”

A small frown formed on Azula’s face as she stopped walking. “Zuko? How did you know he was following us?”

“I saw him earlier today from a distance, then he disappeared so I didn’t really think he could keep up with our pace.” You explained as you crossed your arms over your chest. After everything you had gone through, you felt exhausted – not physically, but rather emotionally. “But I saw him in the woods once again after you went your own way. I wanted to finally face him and be free of everything weighing me down.”

Azula nodded at your words, the firm expression slowly disappeared, leaving itself to curiosity. “I understand – in that case, I forgive you for not following my orders.” The edge of your lips curled upwards. “Did it work? Are you finally free of all that weight now?”

You nodded with a big smile forming on your face, almost reaching your amber eyes. Almost.

“I screamed at him everything I have been wanting to say to him ever since… you know, that day.” You spoke with a lower voice, not wanting to be heard by anyone. Shaking your head, you continued. “He is not even capable of owning up to his actions – he couldn’t tell me why he had… said all those things about me.”

Azula shrugged with an unamazed manner. “Well, what did you expect from Zuzu in the first place?” She said as she rested her left hand on the small of your back, leading you two into the tank train. “Still, I am glad that you are now lighter than ever.”

You forced the fake smile back onto your lips.

The problem was that you felt you carried more weight now that you had faced Zuko.

Over the years, you had made yourself deeply believe that he had never really loved you – this had been the only explanation you could find for his actions, your coping mechanism. However, now that you knew he had loved you all along, you felt more lost than ever.

More lost, more confused, more vulnerable.

[climbthemountain2020]

Flame of Autumn - Chapter 16

Part 17/26 | Ao3

Eris

It had been a week since the worst and best day of their lives thus far, and Eris was fighting every single base urge the mating bond thrust upon him each time he saw his mate and knew she was pregnant with their child. He’d barely let her leave the room since, both because of the sudden protective streak he was experiencing, but also because it had triggered something feral in him that required him to pull her naked body back into their bed every time she tried to depart it. She would giggle and they’d resume right where they left off, touching and laughing and exploring each other again. It was like they were experiencing the frenzy of the bond all over again, but Eris wasn’t complaining. 

He knew this couldn’t last–knew something would disturb this fragile, glorious peace–but gods, he wanted it to.  

That morning, a letter had arrived in their rooms requesting his presence in the throne room at sunrise, and he was regretting his duties every second he spent not in bed with Tilly. She was still sleeping, bordered by dogs on each side, as he kissed her gently and left their rooms. He knew she’d been tired lately, and he wasn’t going to wake her for no reason. He left a note with her breakfast, remembering fondly the first time he’d done so, and tried to make this one a bit sweeter. 

Good morning, beautiful creature 

You simply looked too peaceful to wake, and I hope you’re having wonderful dreams–of me, obviously. I brewed your favorite tea, set to stay heated, as well as procuring more chocolate tarts. I’ll be back in an hour or so. 

All my love, 

E

He tucked it under the pillow when he set her tray on the night table, taking another look at her and wondering how he’d possibly lucked into this. Beron aside, he didn’t know how anyone could have received such fortune in life. Perhaps the universe was finally allowing him a reprieve in exchange for the previous five centuries of torture. 

He walked to the throne room, cracking his neck as he went and preparing mentally for whatever Beron had in mind. He tried to smother the happiness he felt so it wouldn’t show on his face, letting that steel mask slide into place as it always did. He walked in with purpose, sketched a bow, and rose. 

“How may I be of service, father?”

“I need you in Dawn Court to finish brokering the deal for the new adaptive armor we commissioned.” Eris was aware of this deal. Thesan had agreed, after much negotiation, to create armor for the soldiers of Autumn. It had certain specifications in mind, made them stronger, heat resistant, and less likely to melt in the case of an onslaught of fire magic. It wasn’t out of the ordinary, but Eris hadn’t done much with it at this point. It wasn’t a particularly difficult trip, though. They might even be able to stop by Day Court and talk to Helion before returning home. 

“Yes, father. When will we be leaving?” 

“Tomorrow morning. You will need to go alone, and be subtle there. I don’t want to risk anyone seeing you and thinking we’re brokering some type of alliance. That’s the last thing we need.” Eris was immediately uncomfortable with Tilly being left behind, his instincts roaring within him to stay nearby and protect her, protect their baby.

“Understood, father.” 

“I will be off to the mortal lands for meetings with the human queens.” This information did shock Eris, but he kept his expression schooled. 

“The human queens? I did not realize we were still in contact after the mishap with Brialyn.” 

“Yes, I am building contacts with them. More allies can never hurt, especially not when they have a tense relationship with the Night Court.” Beron leered in a way that sent a chill through Eris. At least Beron would be far from Tilly in his absence. “Do not disappoint me, Eris. This is a very simple deal, and I need it to go through without any issues.” Eris simply bowed. 

“Yes, father.” 

On his way back to their rooms to pack, he thought about how he might approach the meeting with Helion. He could send a parchment from Day that was unlikely to be intercepted begging for an audience, then go straight there after Day to speak with him. He could see if Helion would be willing to at least help break the charm preventing Beron from being poisoned so that they could try again. Truly, he knew Helion wouldn’t do anything to compromise Alanna’s sons, as much as he hated Beron. He knew he’d be safe in Day, even if he wasn’t well-liked. He could explain the situation to Helion, and perhaps he would warm more if he knew the details. As a last resort, he could even exchange his knowledge of Lucien. Eris didn’t like it for anyone’s sake, least of all his mother’s, and he hoped it wouldn’t come to that. 

Tilly had just risen when Eris returned. She was sitting there on the still-ruffled bed, eating her pastries. She smiled at him as he came inside, and Eris thought he’d never seen anything quite so beautiful. Her red hair was tousled, waving lazily in the low light, and she was wearing a silk dressing gown that slipped deliciously off one freckled shoulder. 

“Got your note!” She held it up with a grin. “Thank you for the tea and tarts. I might live off tea and tarts if you let me.” He laughed as he came and sat on the side of the bed, giving her a kiss and tasting the chai and chocolate on her lips. 

“I’m surprised the dogs aren’t here begging.” He’d practically had to pry Hestia away from Tilly this past week. She and Cinder had become incredibly protective, going nearly everywhere she went and growling at anyone else who got too close. 

“I gave them their breakfast a bit ago and I may have given them some sausages to get a little reprieve.” Her smile turned guilty as she said it, but her eyes were filled with mischief. He reached up, letting his hand graze her jaw lightly. 

“I have to go away for a few days.” Her face dropped at the news, worry creasing her brow. 

“Why? I can’t come?” He knew she would worry–he understood. 

“It’s just a few days in Dawn. I need to finish a deal for Beron, who will, blessedly, also be gone from the Forest House.” Tilly breathed a deep sigh of relief. 

“Well, that’s not so terrible. Despite missing you while you’re gone.” She smiled, but it didn’t quite meet her eyes. 

“I’ll be missing you every moment I am away. Perhaps you and my mother can spend some time together. I know she blooms when he’s gone, and it’ll keep you company, too.” She smiled and nodded. 

“I’d like that.” 

“And you’re good to keep the glamours up while I’m away?”

“Yes, I can do it. Not like I’d be using any other magic without you here.” She laughed a little, and he relented, kissing her again. A few quick pecks turned slower, more sensual. He could never get enough of her, and he knew that no measure of time would satisfy him. He trailed the kisses down her chest, sending all the love and affection that burned through the pathways of his heart down the bond and into her as she inhaled deeply. 

He pressed a kiss to the spot beneath her navel as she sighed in contentment. He inhaled, loving the mix of flames and oranges that washed over him. It was going to be the longest few days of his life. 

“Are you absolutely sure you’ll be alright while I’m gone? Perhaps I can figure out a way–”

“Eris, it’s fine. I have spent so much of my life by myself. I can manage a few days.” He pouted, putting on a dramatic show for her as she laughed. 

“I am hoping to get a letter to Helion. Perhaps he might be able to help.” Her expression sobered as she sat back up, Eris rising with her to press a kiss to her bare shoulder. 

“Let’s hope he will.” 

Tilly

Tilly rolled stiffly across the bed, bumping the sleeping dogs and earning grumbles as she did. 

“Oh, hush. I can’t help it that I can’t sleep. You’re the ones choosing to be here, anyway.” Eris had been gone for a day now, and she missed him sorely, but it was so much worse at night. She hated sleeping away from him–had grown so used to his warm body curved around hers that she couldn’t sleep without him here. Even with three dogs on the bed, she felt cold and lonely. She rolled again, tugging the bond lovingly and sending sweet thoughts through that mighty ribbon to him. It took barely a moment before she felt it echoing back, his amusement–likely at her still being awake–dancing around with love and devotion. 

At this distance, the bond was so incredibly faint–delayed, even–but she was glad for it only to know he was safe and to have that small bit of comfort. She and Alanna had done tea in the garden that afternoon which had been a nice reprieve, especially with the lack of Beron’s overbearing guard lingering over them like a dark cloud. Tilly loved how much lighter the Lady of Autumn was when she wasn’t being chained down by Beron’s presence, but it made it so much more painful to see her locked back down upon his return. 

They’d discussed flowers and the weather, and Alanna had tentatively mentioned the upcoming solstice, but nothing about the ticking clock hanging over their heads. A part of her wondered if Alanna didn’t sense it, didn’t already know about the grandchild cradled within Tilly’s womb. They would have told her, but they didn’t want to be responsible for giving her a single additional piece of information that Beron could torture out of her or punish her for keeping from him. They’d have to figure out soon how long they planned to hide this before they absolutely couldn’t anymore. She hoped Eris’ meeting with Helion would produce some good leads and keep them from worrying about it altogether. 

Another roll and a frustrated sigh. She was probably only about two months along at most, and the uncomfortable nights would only become more commonplace from here. At least with Eris around, he could provide his warm hands pressed against her back for some relief. She smiled at the thought. Eris was going to be such a wonderful father, and as terrible as the circumstances were, she couldn’t help but feel genuinely excited about the prospect of seeing him in the role. She could imagine him rubbing circles into her back, holding her hands as she brought their baby into the world. She could picture Eris so vividly holding him or her against his chest, tiny tufts of bright red baby curls perfectly puffing up from the blanket. The visual brought tears to her eyes, as most things seemed to these days. 

A frantic pounding on the doors broke through the darkness. 

“Matilda! Matilda, help!” 

Alanna. 

The dogs were barking and snarling, and Tilly shot out of bed, grabbing her dressing gown to wrap tightly around her as she ran to the door. The pounding was growing louder and more hectic. 

“Matilda, please!” She threw up her glamours and waved down the wards in the same breath, swinging the door open in a panic. 

“Alanna, what’s–” 

But it wasn’t Alanna she found on the other side. 

She was greeted with the twisted smile of Aradnus, holding a handkerchief covered in a bright blue powder. The voice had been a trick of magic, and in the seconds it took her to put it all together and try to slam the door on him, he’d gotten his entire arm around her throat and pressed the cloth to her nose and mouth. She could think of nothing as her vision began to blur, her senses dulling rapidly. She struggled wildly against him, the dogs snarling and snapping behind her as he kicked the door closed on them, dragging her out into the hall. 

As the darkness closed in, she tried to reach out through the bond to warn Eris, but the golden thread of flame was nowhere to be found. 

Taglist (lomls): @cauldronblssd@queercontrarian@byyalady@thelovelymadone@clockwork-ashes@lovingkelj @lilah-asteria

[james-stark-the-writer]

started watching A Murder At The End of the World and i'm only like 4 minutes in rn but oh my fucking god, they already did the impossible, they made synthesizing a literal audience not only not annoying but actually intriguing and effective. holy shit.

[cathalbravecog]

Really should be sleeping but I really just have to share that Archie my dearest finally got to Misty... At last they can see their bestie

(Their real objective is the destruction of Barnacle Bessie, the only being in existence that Archie feels negatively towards)

[trashlie]

Meaning in Falls in ILY (spoilers for ep 200)

The last post I want to make about the recent ILY posts is something that came up on reddit. I’m going to copy and paste my response lol because it’s something I spent too long mulling over, and even if it ends up meaning nothing, sometimes it’s just nice to have all these thoughts in one place, isn’t it?

Someone over on reddit posed the following question in the FP discussion post for episode 200: 

[img: reddit user snaakeguy asked  so much of this story has these important life altering moments centered around falling. the formal, nol jumping into the pool, this. i wonder what the significance behind that is.]

My thoughts were this:

(spoilers for ep 200)

At the risk of overthinking it, too, I think we can separate it further into the difference between a fall and a jump, right? A fall is an event completely out of out control vs a jump being a choice. In general, things crash and burn in life all all time, and we're left to deal with the ramifications of them. That can range from things not working out to unexpected deaths, plans that get indefinitely shelved. I THINK in ILY the falls (simply) create (narrative) parallels, but I'm not against the idea of there being meaning in them, either. But we do know that Nol's fall vs dive foil each other - his fall was an "opportunity" to give in that he lost when he instead chose to help Shinae; his jump embraced that feeling but he was met with renewed vigor and rebirth. You can take it further, too, in that the fall could have been the death of Yeonggi (and maybe a less metaphorical death), but his chosen jump WAS the death of Yeonggi, one he made of his own volition.

We've seen both fall and jump paralleled with Shinae's, and that sense of peace and calm. She goes from shocked to a horrifying sense of peace, like she's welcoming what's coming. In fact, the way this is interspersed with those AWFUL girls and their "She deserved it" "You shouldn't feel bad" comments leans into what she was telling Nol - that she was punished for daring to believe she can change her fortune or stray from her path. In that moment, young Shinae concluded she cannot change this trajectory, that she does not deserve what she was seeking. Interestingly, where Shinae embraces that moment of peace, Nol denies himself it, says he doesn't deserve it.

[A sidebar here to add on to this thought above: at the time of the formal, when Nol falls and decides he doesn’t deserve this peace yet, it’s because there is something yet in the past that Nol blames himself for, and because he has not yet reached the absolution he believes he must seek. For him to give up in that moment would be unfair, because his mindset is that he deserves all punishment that comes his way, and that there is no point in fighting it. For the amount of mental strife he’s in, peace would be a gift, and thus it’s an unwelcome opportunity. Shinae had not yet reached that conclusion - that comes after. In this moment, she’s willing to embrace it because she’s not yet saddled with the concept of undeserving, hasn’t yet decided that maybe life is punishing her simply for existing. Until now, she had still tried to defy it. This is, instead, the moment Shinae concludes there is no reason for her to try to fight what she believes is her destiny.]

Though we don't know Shinae's thoughts during her pool fall, given her addled state and that we were pointedly in no one's head, even though this is not a chosen jump like Nol's, she DOES end up at the railing because she WANTED to jump into the pool. Obviously this is different than Nol's circumstances but I still find it interesting - Shinae wants to "follow her dreams", Nol wants to feel what it's like to fly. I don't think they're equally comparable in that way, but the RESULT is. Nol jumps and leaves Yeonggi behind, rebirthed as Nolan, embracing his identity. Shinae falls and leaves behind.... I wouldn't call it INNOCENCE exactly but it DOES ride on the back of learning she was taken advantage of, manipulated, and trapped into this position (AND Sangchul tried to PHYSICALLY take advantage of her). She had tried so hard to be the good girl that was asked of her, to take care of her father, to stay off the streets. In desperation she asked for a favor and was tricked. She's done being a "good girl" - she tries to fight back, she refuses to back down and let people walk over her. Prior in the story, Shinae lets people say whatever they will about her, because what does it matter. Later, we get to see her square up against Sangchul. Maybe in the past she may have kept quiet and let him imply she's the Hirahara family's bicycle but in the present we get to see her get in his face and yell at him lmaoooooooo. I think this probably extends further, too, in conjunction with this flashback arc. Shinae prior would likely have let Nol run away, accepted that this is how it goes, no one ever stays, this is what life decided you deserve, that she doesn’t matter, but instead she makes repeated efforts to reach out to him. EVEN THOUGH she went through something similar with Alyssa she still decides to make an effort so she's left with no regrets.

So even tho Shinae's pool fall is not a jump by choice, I think it still represents a sense of "rebirth" - rebranding yourself, embracing something you hadn't prior. In a way, they both come out of this choosing themselves. Shinae chooses to defend herself, to fight for herself; Nol chooses to stop being Yeonggi and to be Nolan, to give up his mask and embrace his real self.

So while I think falls/jumps are being used to maintain these parallels, I think we CAN read into them a bit, with what CHANGES in direct response to that fall. Is it a coincidence that the "rebirths" involves pools? (And it's not like a pool immediately equates to that, either; Nol's pool fall FOILS Shinae's, where hers parallels his pool jump. Where Nol is ready to let peace embrace him, he has to take up the Yeonggi mask once more to save Shinae. Like Shinae's school fall, this fall leaves him trapped in a fate he believes inescapable, a personal prison. In fact, Nol wears his Yeonggi persona like a prison in the same way Shinae builds up her walls and locks herself away. Tho he has people around him, he's not honest with them and is just as much isolated as Shinae is). There's something to read into regarding the intention vs lack of, tho it definitely does not hold up 100% regarding Shinae. I guess it's ultimately: what does the impact reveal? Embracing the believed inevitable vs those moments of "clarity" (ironic word choice since Shinae literally cannot recall parts of her night, but enough to realize she does not want to lie down and be taken advantage of).

I hope we won't see any more jumps/falls to test out if this is true tho lol. Maybe just, yknow, the metaphorical kind (perhaps a fall from grace, fall from power vs a leap of faith, jumping into something new, jumping at an opportunity.)

(And because I'm me and ADHD has me all over the place, I wonder if it's SUPER overthinking to compare Nol climbing up to the rooftop with falling/jumping lol. I think yes, but I'm still going to muse about the intentional choice to pull himself from his pit of despair and maybe allow himself a reprieve, rather than trying to jump to one only to realize it might not be what he actually wants. Choosing to join Shinae on the rooftop is just as intentional as choosing to jump from the balcony into the pool, and in a way they might be seen as part of each other. Nol needed to make that jump and free himself in order to face Shinae the way he did; that was him letting go of control, freeing himself from what was keeping him a prisoner (Yeonggi, himself) and joining Shinae is the intentional choice to take control and make his own choices for himself. I do believe lol this is very much overthinking and that it wasn’t intentionally written to be an extension of the pool jump, but I do like how the actions go together.)

[abelas]

guess who’s writing an interactive fiction novel 👉👈 can anyone say dark fantasy horror/romance ✍️

[jimalim]

There is nothing more exhilarating yet infuriating than starting a video game for the first time.

[therealbeachfox]

Twenty years ago, February 15th, 2004, I got married for the first time.

It was twenty years earlier than I ever expected to.

To celebrate/comemorate the date, I'm sitting down to write out everything I remember as I remember it. No checking all the pictures I took or all the times I've written about this before. I'm not going to turn to my husband (of twenty years, how the f'ing hell) to remember a detail for me.

This is not a 100% accurate recounting of that first wild weekend in San Francisco. But it -is- a 100% accurate recounting of how I remember it today, twenty years after the fact.

Join me below, if you would.

2004 was an election year, and much like conservatives are whipping up anti-trans hysteria and anti-trans bills and propositions to drive out the vote today, in 2004 it was all anti-gay stuff. Specifically, preventing the evil scourge of same-sex marriage from destroying everything good and decent in the world.

Enter Gavin Newstrom. At the time, he was the newly elected mayor of San Francisco. Despite living next door to the city all my life, I hadn’t even heard of the man until Valentines Day 2004 when he announced that gay marriage was legal in San Francisco and started marrying people at city hall.

It was a political stunt. It was very obviously a political stunt. That shit was illegal, after all. But it was a very sweet political stunt. I still remember the front page photo of two ancient women hugging each other forehead to forehead and crying happy tears.

But it was only going to last for as long as it took for the California legal system to come in and make them knock it off.

The next day, we’re on the phone with an acquaintance, and she casually mentions that she’s surprised the two of us aren’t up at San Francisco getting married with everyone else.

“Everyone else?” Goes I, “I thought they would’ve shut that down already?”

“Oh no!” goes she, “The courts aren’t open until Tuesday. Presidents Day on Monday and all. They’re doing them all weekend long!”

We didn’t know because social media wasn’t a thing yet. I only knew as much about it as I’d read on CNN, and most of the blogs I was following were more focused on what bullshit President George W Bush was up to that day.

"Well shit", me and my man go, "do you wanna?" I mean, it’s a political stunt, it wont really mean anything, but we’re not going to get another chance like this for at least 20 years. Why not?

The next day, Sunday, we get up early. We drive north to the southern-most BART station. We load onto Bay Area Rapid Transit, and rattle back and forth all the way to the San Francisco City Hall stop.

We had slightly miscalculated.

Apparently, demand for marriages was far outstripping the staff they had on hand to process them. Who knew. Everyone who’d gotten turned away Saturday had been given tickets with times to show up Sunday to get their marriages done. My babe and I, we could either wait to see if there was a space that opened up, or come back the next day, Monday.

“Isn’t City Hall closed on Monday?” I asked. “It’s a holiday”

“Oh sure,” they reply, “but people are allowed to volunteer their time to come in and work on stuff anyways. And we have a lot of people who want to volunteer their time to have the marriage licensing offices open tomorrow.”

“Oh cool,” we go, “Backup.”

“Make sure you’re here if you do,” they say, “because the California Supreme Court is back in session Tuesday, and will be reviewing the motion that got filed to shut us down.”

And all this shit is super not-legal, so they’ll totally be shutting us down goes unsaid.

00000

We don’t get in Saturday. We wind up hanging out most of the day, though.

It’s… incredible. I can say, without hyperbole, that I have never experienced so much concentrated joy and happiness and celebration of others’ joy and happiness in all my life before or since. My face literally ached from grinning. Every other minute, a new couple was coming out of City Hall, waving their paperwork to the crowd and cheering and leaping and skipping. Two glorious Latina women in full Mariachi band outfits came out, one in the arms of another. A pair of Jewish boys with their families and Rabbi. One couple managed to get a Just Married convertible arranged complete with tin-cans tied to the bumper to drive off in. More than once I was giving some rice to throw at whoever was coming out next.

At some point in the mid-afternoon, there was a sudden wave of extra cheering from the several hundred of us gathered at the steps, even though no one was coming out. There was a group going up the steps to head inside, with some generic black-haired shiny guy at the front. My not-yet-husband nudged me, “That’s Newsom.” He said, because he knew I was hopeless about matching names and people.

Ooooooh, I go. That explains it. Then I joined in the cheers. He waved and ducked inside.

So dusk is starting to fall. It’s February, so it’s only six or so, but it’s getting dark.

“Should we just try getting in line for tomorrow -now-?” we ask.

“Yeah, I’m afraid that’s not going to be possible.” One of the volunteers tells us. “We’re not allowed to have people hang out overnight like this unless there are facilities for them and security. We’d need Porta-Poties for a thousand people and police patrols and the whole lot, and no one had time to get all that organized. Your best bet is to get home, sleep, and then catch the first BART train up at 5am and keep your fingers crossed.

Monday is the last day to do this, after all.

00000

So we go home. We crash out early. We wake up at 4:00. We drive an hour to hit the BART station. We get the first train up. We arrive at City Hall at 6:30AM.

The line stretches around the entirety of San Francisco City Hall. You could toss a can of Coke from the end of the line to the people who’re up to be first through the doors and not have to worry about cracking it open after.

“Uh.” We go. “What the fuck is -this-?”

So.

Remember why they weren’t going to be able to have people hang out overnight?

Turns out, enough SF cops were willing to volunteer unpaid time to do patrols to cover security. And some anonymous person delivered over a dozen Porta-Poties that’d gotten dropped off around 8 the night before.

It’s 6:30 am, there are almost a thousand people in front of us in line to get this literal once in a lifetime marriage, the last chance we expect to have for at least 15 more years (it was 2004, gay rights were getting shoved back on every front. It was not looking good. We were just happy we lived in California were we at least weren’t likely to loose job protections any time soon.).

Then it starts to rain.

We had not dressed for rain.

00000

Here is how the next six hours go.

We’re in line. Once the doors open at 7am, it will creep forward at a slow crawl. It’s around 7 when someone shows up with garbage bags for everyone. Cut holes for the head and arms and you’ve got a makeshift raincoat! So you’ve got hundreds of gays and lesbians decked out in the nicest shit they could get on short notice wearing trashbags over it.

Everyone is so happy.

Everyone is so nervous/scared/frantic that we wont be able to get through the doors before they close for the day.

People online start making delivery orders.

Coffee and bagels are ordered in bulk and delivered to City Hall for whoever needs it. We get pizza. We get roses. Random people come by who just want to give hugs to people in line because they’re just so happy for us. The tour busses make detours to go past the lines. Chinese tourists lean out with their cameras and shout GOOD LUCK while car horns honk.

A single sad man holding a Bible tries to talk people out of doing this, tells us all we’re sinning and to please don’t. He gives up after an hour. A nun replaces him with a small sign about how this is against God’s will. She leaves after it disintegrates in the rain.

The day before, when it was sunny, there had been a lot of protestors. Including a large Muslim group with their signs about how “Not even DOGS do such things!” Which… Yes they do.

A lot of snide words are said (by me) about how the fact that we’re willing to come out in the rain to do this while they’re not willing to come out in the rain to protest it proves who actually gives an actual shit about the topic.

Time passes. I measure it based on which side of City Hall we’re on. The doors face East. We start on Northside. Coffee and trashbags are delivered when we’re on the North Side. Pizza first starts showing up when we’re on Westside, which is also where I see Bible Man and Nun. Roses are delivered on Southside. And so forth.

00000

We have Line Neighbors.

Ahead of us are a gay couple a decade or two older than us. They’ve been together for eight years. The older one is a school teacher. He has his coat collar up and turns away from any news cameras that come near while we reposition ourselves between the lenses and him. He’s worried about the parents of one of his students seeing him on the news and getting him fired. The younger one will step away to get interviewed on his own later on. They drove down for the weekend once they heard what was going on. They’d started around the same time we did, coming from the Northeast, and are parked in a nearby garage.

The most perky energetic joyful woman I’ve ever met shows up right after we turned the corner to Southside to tackle the younger of the two into a hug. She’s their local friend who’d just gotten their message about what they’re doing and she will NOT be missing this. She is -so- happy for them. Her friends cry on her shoulders at her unconditional joy.

Behind us are a lesbian couple who’d been up in San Francisco to celebrate their 12th anniversary together. “We met here Valentines Day weekend! We live down in San Diego, now, but we like to come up for the weekend because it’s our first love city.”

“Then they announced -this-,” the other one says, “and we can’t leave until we get married. I called work Sunday and told them I calling in sick until Wednesday.”

“I told them why,” her partner says, “I don’t care if they want to give me trouble for it. This is worth it. Fuck them.”

My husband-to-be and I look at each other. We’ve been together for not even two years at this point. Less than two years. Is it right for us to be here? We’re potentially taking a spot from another couple that’d been together longer, who needed it more, who deserved it more.”

“Don’t you fucking dare.” Says the 40-something gay couple in front of us.

“This is as much for you as it is for us!” says the lesbian couple who’ve been together for over a decade behind us.

“You kids are too cute together,” says the gay couple’s friend. “you -have- to. Someday -you’re- going to be the old gay couple that’s been together for years and years, and you deserve to have been married by then.”

We stay in line.

It’s while we’re on the Southside of City Hall, just about to turn the corner to Eastside at long last that we pick up our own companions. A white woman who reminds me an awful lot of my aunt with a four year old black boy riding on her shoulders. “Can we say we’re with you? His uncles are already inside and they’re not letting anyone in who isn’t with a couple right there.” “Of course!” we say.

The kid is so very confused about what all the big deal is, but there’s free pizza and the busses keep driving by and honking, so he’s having a great time.

We pass by a statue of Lincoln with ‘Marriage for All!’ and "Gay Rights are Human Rights!" flags tucked in the crooks of his arms and hanging off his hat.

It’s about noon, noon-thirty when we finally make it through the doors and out of the rain.

They’ve promised that anyone who’s inside when the doors shut will get married. We made it. We’re safe.

We still have a -long- way to go.

00000

They’re trying to fit as many people into City Hall as possible. Partially to get people out of the rain, mostly to get as many people indoors as possible. The line now stretches down into the basement and up side stairs and through hallways I’m not entirely sure the public should ever be given access to. We crawl along slowly but surely.

It’s after we’ve gone through the low-ceiling basement hallways past offices and storage and back up another set of staircases and are going through a back hallway of low-ranked functionary offices that someone comes along handing out the paperwork. “It’s an hour or so until you hit the office, but take the time to fill these out so you don’t have to do it there!”

We spend our time filling out the paperwork against walls, against backs, on stone floors, on books.

We enter one of the public areas, filled with displays and photos of City Hall Demonstrations of years past.

I take pictures of the big black and white photo of the Abraham Lincoln statue holding banners and signs against segregation and for civil rights.

The four year old boy we helped get inside runs past us around this time, chased by a blond haired girl about his own age, both perused by an exhausted looking teenager helplessly begging them to stop running.

Everyone is wet and exhausted and vibrating with anticipation and the building-wide aura of happiness that infuses everything.

The line goes into the marriage office. A dozen people are at the desk, shoulder to shoulder, far more than it was built to have working it at once.

A Sister of Perpetual Indulgence is directing people to city officials the moment they open up. She’s done up in her nun getup with all her makeup on and her beard is fluffed and be-glittered and on point. “Oh, I was here yesterday getting married myself, but today I’m acting as your guide. Number 4 sweeties, and -Congradulatiooooons!-“

The guy behind the counter has been there since six. It’s now 1:30. He’s still giddy with joy. He counts our money. He takes our paperwork, reviews it, stamps it, sends off the parts he needs to, and hands the rest back to us. “Alright, go to the Rotunda, they’ll direct you to someone who’ll do the ceremony. Then, if you want the certificate, they’ll direct you to -that- line.” “Can’t you just mail it to us?” “Normally, yeah, but the moment the courts shut us down, we’re not going to be allowed to.”

We take our paperwork and join the line to the Rotunda.

If you’ve seen James Bond: A View to a Kill, you’ve seen the San Francisco City Hall Rotunda. There are literally a dozen spots set up along the balconies that overlook the open area where marriage officials and witnesses are gathered and are just processing people through as fast as they can.

That’s for the people who didn’t bring their own wedding officials.

There’s a Catholic-adjacent couple there who seem to have brought their entire families -and- the priest on the main steps. They’re doing the whole damn thing. There’s at least one more Rabbi at work, I can’t remember what else. Just that there was a -lot-.

We get directed to the second story, northside. The San Francisco City Treasurer is one of our two witnesses. Our marriage officient is some other elected official I cannot remember for the life of me (and I'm only writing down what I can actively remember, so I can't turn to my husband next to me and ask, but he'll have remembered because that's what he does.)

I have a wilting lily flower tucked into my shirt pocket. My pants have water stains up to the knees. My hair is still wet from the rain, I am blubbering, and I can’t get the ring on my husband’s finger. The picture is a treat, I tell you.

There really isn’t a word for the mix of emotions I had at that time. Complete disbelief that this was reality and was happening. Relief that we’d made it. Awe at how many dozens of people had personally cheered for us along the way and the hundreds to thousands who’d cheered for us generally.

Then we're married.

Then we get in line to get our license.

It’s another hour. This time, the line goes through the higher stories. Then snakes around and goes past the doorway to the mayor’s office.

Mayor Newsom is not in today. And will be having trouble getting into his office on Tuesday because of the absolute barricade of letters and flowers and folded up notes and stuffed animals and City Hall maps with black marked “THANK YOU!”s that have been piled up against it.

We make it to the marriage records office.

I take a picture of my now husband standing in front of a case of the marriage records for 1902-1912. Numerous kids are curled up in corners sleeping. My own memory is spotty. I just know we got the papers, and then we’re done with lines. We get out, we head to the front entrance, and we walk out onto the City Hall steps.

It's almost 3PM.

00000

There are cheers, there’s rice thrown at us, there are hundreds of people celebrating us with unconditional love and joy and I had never before felt the goodness that exists in humanity to such an extent. It’s no longer raining, just a light sprinkle, but there are still no protestors. There’s barely even any news vans.

We make our way through the gauntlet, we get hands shaked, people with signs reading ”Congratulations!” jump up and down for us. We hit the sidewalks, and we begin to limp our way back to the BART station.

I’m at the BART station, we’re waiting for our train back south, and I’m sitting on the ground leaning against a pillar and in danger of falling asleep when a nondescript young man stops in front of me and shuffles his feet nervously. “Hey. I just- I saw you guys, down at City Hall, and I just… I’m so happy for you. I’m so proud of what you could do. I’m- I’m just really glad, glad you could get to do this.”

He shakes my hand, clasps it with both of his and shakes it. I thank him and he smiles and then hurries away as fast as he can without running.

Our train arrives and the trip south passes in a semilucid blur.

We get back to our car and climb in.

It’s 4:30 and we are starving.

There’s a Carls Jr near the station that we stop off at and have our first official meal as a married couple. We sit by the window and watch people walking past and pick out others who are returning from San Francisco. We're all easy to pick out, what with the combination of giddiness and water damage.

We get home about 6-7. We take the dog out for a good long walk after being left alone for two days in a row. We shower. We bundle ourselves up. We bury ourselves in blankets and curl up and just sort of sit adrift in the surrealness of what we’d just done.

We wake up the next day, Tuesday, to read that the California State Supreme Court has rejected the petition to shut down the San Francisco weddings because the paperwork had a misplaced comma that made the meaning of one phrase unclear.

The State Supreme Court would proceed to play similar bureaucratic tricks to drag the process out for nearly a full month before they have nothing left and finally shut down Mayor Newsom’s marriages.

My parents had been out of state at the time at a convention. They were flying into SFO about the same moment we were walking out of City Hall. I apologized to them later for not waiting and my mom all but shook me by the shoulders. “No! No one knew that they’d go on for so long! You did what you needed to do! I’ll just be there for the next one!”

00000

It was just a piece of paper. Legally, it didn’t even hold any weight thirty days later. My philosophy at the time was “marriage really isn’t that important, aside from the legal benefits. It’s just confirming what you already have.”

But maybe it’s just societal weight, or ingrained culture, or something, but it was different after. The way I described it at the time, and I’ve never really come up with a better metaphor is, “It’s like we were both holding onto each other in the middle of the ocean in the middle of a storm. We were keeping each other above water, we were each other’s support. But then we got this piece of paper. And it was like the ground rose up to meet our feet. We were still in an ocean, still in the middle of a storm, but there was a solid foundation beneath our feet. We still supported each other, but there was this other thing that was also keeping our heads above the water.

It was different. It was better. It made things more solid and real.

I am forever grateful for all the forces and all the people who came together to make it possible. It’s been twenty years and we’re still together and still married.

We did a domestic partnership a year later to get the legal paperwork. We’d done a private ceremony with proper rings (not just ones grabbed out of the husband’s collection hours before) before then. And in 2008, we did a legal marriage again.

Rushed. In a hurry. Because there was Proposition 13 to be voted on which would make them all illegal again if it passed.

It did, but we were already married at that point, and they couldn’t negate it that time.

Another few years after that, the Supreme Court finally threw up their hands and said "Fine! It's been legal in places and nothing's caught on fire or been devoured by locusts. It's legal everywhere. Shut up about it!"

And that was that.

00000

When I was in highschool, in the late 90s, I didn’t expect to see legal gay marriage until I was in my 50s. I just couldn’t see how the American public as it was would ever be okay with it.

I never expected to be getting married within five years. I never expected it to be legal nationwide before I’d barely started by 30s. I never thought I’d be in my 40s and it’d be such a non-issue that the conservative rabble rousers would’ve had to move onto other wedge issues altogether.

I never thought that I could introduce another man as my husband and absolutely no one involved would so much as blink.

I never thought I’d live in this world.

And it’s twenty years later today. I wonder how our line buddies are doing. Those babies who were running around the wide open rooms playing tag will have graduated college by now. The kids whose parents the one line-buddy was worried would see him are probably married too now. Some of them to others of the same gender.

I don’t have some greater message to make with all this. Other then, culture can shift suddenly in ways you can’t predict. For good or ill. Mainly this is just me remembering the craziest fucking 36 hours of my life twenty years after the fact and sharing them with all of you.

The future we’re resigned to doesn’t have to be the one we live in. Society can shift faster than you think. The unimaginable of twenty years ago is the baseline reality of today.

And always remember that the people who want to get married will show up by the thousands in rain that none of those who’re against it will brave.

[quitedisastrous]

life was so much easier three days ago when i was detaching myself from reality and spending all of my free time shiny hunting

[atrwriting]

future problems — coriolanus snow x fem!wife!reader

hi everyone :) jumping on the bandwagon

this man is so fine i couldn’t help myself. i hope everyone had an amazing holiday if they celebrate — i celebrate christmas, so here is my almost 10k word christmas gift to all of you xoxo love u all v much thank you for reading !!

as always, warnings: corio-lame-o is a fucking warning holy fuck, smuuuuut, arranged marriage (i think this counts?), coriolanus is a distrustful evil fuck (but he’s super hot), fem!reader, reader is married to this dickhead (i say as if i wouldn’t want to be lmao), angst, sexism and misogyny is def in here, p in v penetration, m receiving oral, choking, dom!corio, asshole!corio, sub!reader, subspace kinda

informal warnings: bro what the fuck was i on this is literally 10.2k words and i refuse to edit because im super lazy anyway we die like men you've been warned

anyways… here is future problems:

he never wanted to get married.

he saw it as a potential problem, one that would most definitely lead to loose ends — and he hated loose ends.

despised them.

however, his innate need to maintain an image was far more important to him. he weighed the costs and benefits in his head like an algorithm — check, check, check. coriolanus’ mind left no stone unturned, especially when future problems were to be squashed before they could ever be wiped from memory. in the end… he decided he would marry.

and it would be you.

he never allowed himself to be naive — so he would never allow himself to marry someone he already loved. lucy gray? a child’s want for something they can’t have, and something they wouldn’t realize until later that it was a walking regret. no — he could never marry someone that would harm him. absolutely not. out of the question. therefore, it had to be you.

it had to be you because what harm would you cause him? you were shy, quiet, of satisfactory social standing, and uncontroversial. everything a patriarch of the snow family would want. deserved. be entitled to.

he needed someone that wouldn’t be a problem — a loose end in the future. he had conquered so much — he refused to let anything else, especially as irrelevant as a significant other, stand in his way.

however… it did not aid him in his stone-cold lack of a love affair conquest that you were absolutely breathtaking.

at first, it was just an ego boost. he simply couldn’t stop his thoughts from voicing, of course she’s perfect. the snow legacy can only have perfect.

but then… oh, then…

then he saw your smile.

oh, your smile.

your fucking smile.

the first time he caught himself enjoying it — he scolded himself. he refused to see you for a week. a punishment of sorts. more so for him than for you. after, he refused to let his eyes wander on the pretty features of your face for him to witness a reaction to something someone had said or done. he didn’t want to be reminded of what it was like to experience joy or peace because someone else was experiencing it — that was what almost costed him everything he had built.

no one would ever tear that down. not again, not ever.

no one.

when the day of your marriage came, it was business as usual. he refused to meet eye contact, and did not partake in more conversations with you than he had to. he could tell you felt uncomfortable — but he forced himself not to care. he drove it down, down, down like a miner drilling for more coal — hoping, one day, it would be worth it.

and it was… until he was sick.

it was a minor ailment — nothing major, but he was on bedrest for about a week or two. he had employed enough adequate members to his staff to feel that things would at least be taken care of until then. he also found comfort in the fact that two weeks was not long enough for something irreversible to occur. if a problem had taken placed, he would be able to rectify it once he was well and able and… set aside the responsible party.

however, he did not expect one problem.

and that would be you.

he knew you were asking to see him. he knew, he knew, he knew, but he refused to let you in. you were not disrespectful — you had only asked once a day, which happened to be every day in the afternoon. he had picked you specifically because you were too quiet to be annoying. however, his own perfect, pristine, and proper plan had stabbed him in the back. he had never considered that the perfect, pristine, and proper wife would be this dutiful to him, checking in once a day on his condition and to speak with him. despite his illness, he laughed at himself — leave it to him to not expect the expected: the hand-selected dutiful wife would, in fact, be dutiful.

he had to put an end to it. he couldn’t keep saying no for another week. how was he expected to get better if you kept bothering him?

so he let you in. this once. just this once. he reasoned that if he let you in this once, you would be less persistent. just this once — and another problem would cease to plague his mind.

just this once, he chanted in his head. just this once.

he sat up straighter, and attempted to shape his hair so it wasn’t terribly unkept. he reasoned that if you saw him appearing to be healthy, you wouldn’t feel the need to come back. he thought —

but he couldn’t finish the thought.

because you walked in.

smelling like fucking lilacs.

lilacs, of all things. lilacs! not roses, not anything else — lilacs. he did not hate lilacs, but he despised the actual flower. only beautiful for so long before it died and the stench was intolerable. an inconvenience. a nuisance. a guaranteed future problem.

however, when you gifted him with a small smile — you realized why small shows of beauty were so valuable in this world. no one else saw your smile — except for those closest to you. people he hand selected to be around you to prevent future problems. he realized then — he had more control and ownership over your smile than either of you thought.

he was so stunned by your smile he didn’t even notice the tray of tea and cakes in your hand. you took a few steps towards him and he shifted in place.

“i brought your favorites,” you spoke softly. “i know you should rest — i just wanted to ask if there was anything i could do to make your recovery easier.”

“no, thank you,” he replied, voice raspy. “i should be well in a few days.”

you nodded and offered an uneasy smile. his eyes flickered over to how once you had set down the tray on his beside, you slowly wiped the palm of your hands down the front of your dress. your eyes were cast absentmindedly in front of you, on the wall — and he could tell something was plaguing your thoughts.

he then also realized there was a book on the tray, much to his dismay.

“someone had mentioned that this was your favorite author. this was published a few days ago,” you began. “i understand that you have been experiencing headaches, and may find it difficult to read… so i wanted to offer to read aloud for you, in case you found these walls dull.”

you smiled — it was an attempt at a joke. he smiled back, but only to be polite. “today i find myself wanting to sleep. i appreciate your offer.”

you smoothed your hands over your dress once more before nodding and forcing a smile. “i’ll leave you to it, then.”

you did not bid him farewell — and he found himself wondering if he was annoyed or grateful. you simply exited the room, and let the door shut softly behind you.

he scrunched his eyes at the door, swallowing hard.

however, he didn’t understand why.

he had wanted this. the perfect wife — knowing when to take a hint and frankly, fuck off. you had done that, perfectly well — so why was he pissed?

he then found himself glaring angrily at his favorite tea cakes. the swap of sugar for honey, another one of his favorites. his favorite author, a book he was excited to read when he was better. he knew that you hadn’t asked about him — he employed people with the requirement to let him know when you were asking questions. he knew your every outward thought and concern, and sometimes even the ones that weren’t shared aloud because they were so evident on your face.

and then he realized: you noticed things like he noticed things.

however, he knew why he went out of his way to notice things, but why did you?

his jaw clenched as he glared angrily at the wall in front of him. he picked up a tea cake and chewed it aggressively, swallowing it half-intact. he coughed at the barely there food, anger rising further to his flushed cheeks.

he needed to understand how, and he most certainly needed to understand why.

he never went out of his way to get to know you, because he thought he already did. he thought he had you boiled down to one thing, and one thing only: passive. incapable of proving to be any sort of roadblock that was capable of getting in his way. now that he knew you shared something with him, what else was shared? was there something he had to look out for? was there something he missed? was he wrong about you?!

he had to know. he had to.

to do that… he called you back that evening. it was two hours before midnight, and he knew you were awake. despite having separate chambers, he knew your daily schedule. you would be reading at this moment, and he would ask you to read for him.

as if on cue, he heard a soft rapping on the wood of the door. he beckoned you in, and you entered the room. you were clad in a night dress with a matching robe over it, all pink silk. this time, he returned your smile.

"i apologize for the late hour," he spoke. "i hope you had not retired for the night."

you shook your head, your tendrils of perfect hair shaking slightly. "i was reading. i am glad you sent for me — can i get you anything?"

"i was hoping the offer to read for me was still on the table," he rasped. "i find myself unable to sleep."

you blinked once, staring at him. in an instant, a small smile was threatening to overtake your face into a large one. you cast your eyes down to a blushing manner, but his eyes narrowed slightly on your face. what would you get out of reading for him? what we he not seeing? what did he miss?

"of course," you responded. "i have not had a chance to read anything by this author. i am glad i have the chance now."

why. why. why.

he did not show his discontent. he simply rested back against the pillows as you reached for the book on his bedside table. you sat down on a chair on his side, and you crossed your legs. he eyed the small portion of the exposed, soft skin of your legs and wondered if your new ploy would be to try and seduce him. however, you quickly covered your skin with the extra material over your robe and placed the book in your lap. once opened, you read for him.

he was not listening to what you were saying, but he was listening to how you said it. the tone, the enunciation, the pauses, and the speed. he wanted to find some clue as to why you had made it a point to be at his beck and call, and he wanted to see how long the act would last until it dropped.

the act would drop. it always did.

the hour would approach midnight before he found that he could not discern anything from how you were reading aloud. his plan did not yield the results intended, as you had not broken from fulfilling his task for two hours. two hours. you had not stopped out of boredom or exhaustion, nor to talk to him. you were poised, soft, and he hated to admit it... but sweet. he found your voice sweet, and he hated it.

and he fucking hated himself for it.

he needed this to end so he could plan further. out of necessity, he yawned. if you were to apt at picking up clues, then hopefully you would believe that he was finally tired. you had succeeded in his given task, and you were free to go.

but you had kept reading for him.

he grew angry.

when you had paused to breathe, he spoke up. "I think i am able to sleep now. thank you, sweetheart, for indulging me."

your eyeline raised with your eyebrows, almost out of surprise. you either were not expecting him to ask you to stop, or you did not want to stop. he wondered which, and if that would answer his ultimate question.

"my apologies, i should've inquired sooner," you replied. "he is a very talented writer... i found myself enjoying his perspective."

you grabbed a piece or scrap paper from his bedside table, and tucked it in between the pages where you left off.

"most people would fold the corner," he remarked, eyes drifting closed — a show.

you smiled. "i didn't want to ruin the integrity of your book. goodnight, coriolanus."

she left with another smile — and all he was left with was confusion, and rage.

the next morning, he found himself wanting to call you back in for a further rouse interview. he would have if he had a plan in place.

that was the second thing about you that annoyed him: you annoyed him to the point where he wanted to act without a plan in place. a loss of control —which he was highly against.

that would have to be righted immediately.

he spent the morning reading the pages that you had already read to brief himself as if he was listening last night. he reasoned with himself that the best course of action would be to ask you to read to him again to see if you had grown comfortable enough to let a few of your true colors slip.

they always slip.

the sudden task that was presented to him gave him a new bout of energy that he needed to inch closer to recovery. it gave him the push he needed to be closer to walking out of this room and continue to run panem, and he was lost grateful to you for giving it to him — almost. at the moment, you were a problem — and that needed to be corrected. immediately.

he found comfort in control, so he was very content with routines. he had grown accustomed to bracing himself for your check-in in the afternoon. however, it did not come until the approaching hours of the evening had almost descended upon the capitol. he waited, and waited, and waited — so long that he considered asking you to come for himself. the hour would approach dinnertime when you had finally asked about his well-being, and he sent for you.

how dare you ask so late in the day, as if you didn't care? he allowed you access to his life that he had denied you for so long, and you return his kindness with carelessness? this would not do. this most certainly would not do.

you had knocked on his door, and he had to stop himself from sounding to eager. he permitted you entry, and you entered with the same soft smile.

"good evening," you greeted.

"hello," he replied, voice still raspy from his sickness.

"I wanted to ask if you need anything," you announced.

he offered a small smile. "i enjoyed our time last night. perhaps you would read for me, again?"

your eyes fell to the floor in a blush. "of course. I was hoping to read more of the book eventually. i found it intriguing."

you sat down in the chair and pulled the book in your lap. as you were opening it, he spoke, "i thought when you had not checked-in in the early afternoon you found the book dull — afraid i would ask for you to read it for me again."

you shook your head as you smiled. "i like his writing very much — i was concerned as to whether i had prevented you from sleeping the night prior, and didn't want to disturb you further."

he swallowed. "why would you have disturbed me?"

your eyes glanced upwards from the pages to rest on his face. coriolanus stared back as slight concern washed over your features, making your lips part and your eyes widen. your tongue darted out from between your lips, and smoothed over the skin of your bottom lip. you responded, "before you fell ill, we hadn't spent much time together and i understand that is because of your position — but, to be frank, i wanted to respect your space.”

your answer perplexed coriolanus. he wanted to find out what type of person you were — and your answers were not yielding the expected results. there was no obvious form of manipulation in your words, which then worried him. were you smarter than he believed you to be? were you as cunning as him? more so?

so he went with what was natural: manipulation.

“i apologize my station has not granted us the freedom to get to know each other further,” he replied, holding your gaze. “it is a regret of mine.”

you smiled in an affirmative manner, like you didn’t believe him but accepted his answer anyway. this expression arose the same feelings he now detested your presence for: he acted without calculating his actions and the outcome they would produce.

“what troubles you?” he asked.

your lips parted and slightly quivered. you were not expecting him to ask.

“i-i was worried that i may not… please you,” you admitted. “that… you may regret our union.”

“you have been a kind and dutiful wife,” coriolanus spoke, eyes holding yours. “there is no regret.”

there was that affirmative smile again. he found himself hating it — wishing it would be replaced by the warm, soft one.

“i guess i was hoping that, when i was married, the marriage would be more than… a union.”

your candor shocked coriolanus. he would never have expected you to say something… so out of turn.

“please, forgive me,” you spoke, slightly laughing and waving your hand in the air. “the hour is almost late and i was hoping to read more. do you still wish me to?”

“please,” he answered and nodded.

you gave him a quick, thankful smile, and began reading.

this would be the second night coriolanus had not listened to a word you had said.

he had gotten his answer, and it was possibly as bad as the one he was actually afraid for.

you were good. pure, innocent, and your outlook on the world untainted. you were not striving to find a loose screw and let the empire fall. you wanted… to support the man who built and kept the empire together. it was worse than anything he could’ve ever imagined — you actually cared for him.

you cared for him, and now coriolanus snow was fucking terrified.

and yet... he had asked you to return to his chambers every night after that.

for research purposes, of course. only research purposes,

to read to him, but his goal was to learn more about you rather than the text.

you would sit there and read until he asked you to stop. when he did, you would close the book, smile at him, place it back on his nightstand, and bid him goodnight.

after, he would wrestle with the blankets and pillows in order to find out how to deal with this.

how had he not expected this?

his only fault was that he neglected to realize how far your shyness would go. you had grown comfortable with him — and you admitted that you wanted something more, something he always felt he could not give. you weren’t shy — you just weren’t open with people you weren’t comfortable with.

he should’ve known. he should’ve. fucking. known.

he didn’t know how to deal with this, if he was being honest with himself.

he told himself that he asked for you every evening to get to know you better, for his own sanity and safety; but then he began to realize he had found out everything he needed to know.

good and honest. how fucking unfortunate.

he saw a part of you, but now he needed to know more.

so what did he do? he sent you flowers. flowers. an arrangement of red roses and lilacs.

he hated himself for the lilacs.

he got somewhere with you when he had made the first move before — maybe this would yield more promising results.

however, it didn’t.

all he received in return was an extra tray of food that had arrived in the afternoon. his favorite tea cakes, and a handwritten thank-you note detailed in your appreciation for the beautiful flowers. you signed your name, and that was it.

she doesn’t make first moves, he thought. she responds to them.

he knew what he had to do.

he found himself feeling better that day — well enough to end his sick leave and return to his matters. dinner was approaching, and he sent for you to join him for a private dinner this evening.

he was washed, dressed, and coiffed within the hour.

he found you in the dining parlor waiting for him, inspecting his large bookcase. you were trying to reach a book a bit above where your height would allow, extending yourself onto your toes. coriolanus walked up behind you, towering over you, and retrieved the book for you.

you glanced up at him with wide eyes. “thank you, coriolanus.”

“what intrigued you?” he asked, grinning softly.

“first one i couldn’t reach. i was working my way up.” you smiled at him, and then the book. “please — you must be hungry. let us eat.”

you sat down at the table across from him. dinner manners were rather stiff and uncomfortable, but your upbringing that was similar to coriolanus’ prevented you from straying from them. you ate in silence for a few moments before you spoke.

“how do you like his new book?” you asked.

coriolanus cleared his throat. “i find it riveting. i wouldn’t have been able to read it for some time if it hadn’t been for you.”

you smiled at your plate, blushing. “his points are very interesting. i was never very interested in politics — so the insight of someone so heavily involved with them is very informative. do you find that your opinions align with his? or does he not share your perspective?”

he appreciated your willingness to engage with him about topics you weren’t very fond of. an underrated trait, not found very often — he had to admit.

“a bit of both,” he responded. “the one thing he does not discuss is how important it is to have a certain type of person or persons in your regime that allows the flow of success to continue.”

you nodded. “you have built a strong administration — i’m sure he would admire what you have to say.”

“what do you believe?” he asked. “about partnerships?”

you swallowed, contemplating your answer. “i think… a successful partnership is where everyone is complimented by another. for instance, someone is better at briefing documents rather than the presentation of them, and another is the opposite.”

“which one are you?” coriolanus inquired.

you paused once more, folding your lip under. he realized that was a sign you were uncomfortable — unaware of how to proceed. after a moment, you answered, “i feel the most confident under a strong leader. i prefer to be behind the scenes. minute details are easier to be taken care of that way. while you and i are different, i respect you for being the strong leader panem needed. i am sure the majority would agree with me.”

now was the time.

“it is easy to be strong when one’s wife makes sure they are well,” he replied, eyes resting on your face. “i hope you know i appreciate your willingness to accept change and make sure needs are met.”

you smiled at him once more, then turned back to your food.

damn, he thought. didnt bite.

“and for being the companion i… didn’t think i would come to enjoy the company of,” he added.

you glanced up at him then, astonishment written in your eyes as plain as the words on the paper you read for him every night. “may i ask you… a question?”

he nodded.

“did you believe you wouldn’t enjoy my company before, or after you had first met me?”

“i don’t understand.”

you swallowed, clearing your throat. “were you… wary of the idea of marriage, or wary of me?”

your gaze did not break from his. you were braver than he thought.

“marriage,” he answered honestly, hoping to witness your reaction.

there was the affirmative smile — the one he hated. “thank you for — for being honest.”

your eyes didn’t wait for a response. you turned back to your food, and left him dumbstruck.

“i hope i have not displeased you,” he stated.

“no, coriolanus,” you spoke. “if i am being honest… i was wary i would not be suitable for you. if i have not displeased you, then i am well.”

“but you stated you wanted more,” he countered, tone even.

“i hoped we would… spend time together,” you answered. “and we have.”

it was coriolanus’ turn to be at a loss for words. what would this admission relay? it only solidified what he was afraid of — you wanted a marriage filled of love, and he was not prepared for that. ever.

“the flowers were beautiful,” you spoke, interrupting his thoughts. “thank you for sending them.”

“your lilac perfume is a wonderful addition to the capitol,” he spoke, unsure where this had come from. “i wanted you to know that.”

you weren't supposed to say that you weren't supposed to tell the truth you weren't supposed

you smiled at him appreciatively, that accompanied a slight twinkle in your eye. you were quick to return to eating, but coriolanus couldn’t stop staring at your face. he realized then that was his new favorite smile.

there was a moment, a small moment, where he wondered whether it would be such a crime if he did allow himself to enjoy your company more than he had. in that moment, he couldn’t think of how it would go wrong. for that moment, you were a simple, low-maintenance, beautiful woman on the other side of the table with him that just liked spending time with him — and he enjoyed that you weren’t a problem. would it so bad if he entertained the idea?

he immediately cut himself off. of course it was a bad idea.

once dinner has finished, he had requested to walk you back your chambers. if time spent together was what kept you at bay, he could manage that. he most certainly could.

when the pair of you had approached the door, you stopped for a moment and paused reaching for the handle. you spoke, “would you… like to come in?”

“not tonight,” he rasped. he gave you a polite smile. “another time.”

he watched as you blinked your eyes a few times and your lips quivered. you didn’t meet his gaze, for it fell — in what appeared to be embarrassment.

oh.

you invited him in to… to…

that he had not expected.

before you had the chance to leave, he swooped down and grabbed your chin in his thumb and forefinger. he pressed his lips to yours ever so softly, holding it there. the moment your breath caught in your throat, there was a strange feeling inside his chest that made him feel like he’d like to quell your worries by catching you off guard another time. and another. and another. and another. he couldn’t have you feeling rejected, no — not when he didn’t want to reject you. he needed heirs, sure — but they could wait. he would contemplate how long later.

once he pulled back, you smiled. inside you were bursting, and you wanted to hurry behind a closed door so he could not see your reaction. he continued to hold your chin and gaze at your face. feeling brave, you looked him in the eye as you bid him goodnight and went into your room.

you left him standing outside your door, facing its wood paneling.

what was he to do?

he wanted to keep you as emotionally far away as possible to avoid anything like this occurring. he was prepared for people who had an ulterior motive… not a young woman who only wanted to be good to her husband.

the worst part was… not every part of him wanted him to keep you away.

would it be so bad, if he had actually courted you?

you were not anyone from his past, no. you were not irresponsible and impulsive, and you could be trusted to remain within a designated role and space. you were rarely outspoken — you never strayed from your cue cards, nor did you get smart in private. you never spoke out of turn, which coriolanus always knew — this was just the first time he was more turned on than he was just grateful.

he reasoned a reward was in order.

he found his knuckles wrapping on the door before he could stop himself.

the small movements inside your apartments stalled for a moment, pulled taut like a string in an instrument. he could picture you — standing still and silent, waiting for an explanation.

then he heard footsteps approaching the door before the door handle turned. when you opened the door, the first thing he saw was your eyes.

those big, beautiful eyes that looked at him with surprise — and the slightest bit of hope. coriolanus would most likely try to convince himself that he stayed completely still to exercise a form of control over you — but deep down, he would never be able to believe that completely.

however… when you reached out with your soft, delicate hand, and pulled at his own — it didn’t matter why he did it, because he won.

he shut the door behind him, keeping your gaze.

“i would be coy and ask if we could spend time together in a... different way than usual…” you began, sighing. “but up until this moment i was convinced we would never…”

coriolanus was in no mood to quell insecurities and anxieties. he understood that words could not compare to actions, and so he would do just that.

coriolanus stepped forward, and pressed his large hands against the sides of your face. for a split moment — you almost looked terrified. he usually relished in that look from others, but with you it only made him concerned — angry, even.

“i don’t know what it is about you.” his voice was shaky. it was the first moment in your entire marriage that coriolanus had shown even a shred of weakness. “you smile, you obey, you take my transgressions like they’re fucking sweets. why?! tell me!”

your big, round eyes were blown wide as your brow was knitted together. your lips were parted in an innocent manner, and it only fueled his anger. one of your hands came up to gently lay across the back of his. “coriolanus — have you ever considered that i just wanted to get to know you?”

his eyes searched yours like they were an important document and he couldn’t believe what bullshit he was reading. his lips pursed in a manner that suggested a sour taste, and you felt your joy slipping, slipping, and slipping.

“coriolanus — if you want to go, then go.” your voice was breaking. you knew he was a cool, hard man — but this? this? it was almost too much. “you don’t have to stay if you don’t —“

he couldn’t take your nonsense anymore. he shut you up with a kiss.

he smashed your lips together like it was the first thing he should’ve done when he walked back into the room. a squeal died in your throat at the contact, but coriolanus held you there and upright. both of your hands found the firmness of his chest for balance. when he pulled away — he barely did. he kept his lips an inch away from yours as little tuffs of air pushed past. he leaned his forehead against yours, almost bonding the two of you.

“my greatest displeasure will be making you regret this,” he rasped, eyes screwed shut.

your breathing began to hasten as you contemplated your next words. you began to stroke coriolanus’ hands with your thumbs, hoping to coax him. “you say that like it’s inevitable.”

“it is not far from,” he choked through anger and sadness.

you couldn’t help but stare back at him as he almost glared at you — but then you realized that wasn’t the case. he wasn’t glaring at you — he was glaring through you. whatever traumatized him, whatever made him so distrustful of the world around him and the people in it… you realized then that you represented all of that to him. you had to be different. you had to show him that you were different than all of that.

“i’ve trusted you,” you whispered, almost pleading. “i would like for you to try and trust me. please, coriolanus… i’ve never asked you for anything — just this once —“

coriolanus shook his head, dismissing you. “it’s corio.”

he slammed his lips to yours. his kiss was that of a fight; burning with every cut of anger, frustration, desperation, and sadness in his soul. you weren’t sure if he accounted for your inexperience, but you let him lead as you swallowed all of his suffering. you knew you may never be everything you wanted to be for him — but for this moment, or for whatever he would allow — you could be his escape, and he could be yours.

just this once, you both thought. just this once.

his hands were on both sides of your face, caging you in as you were at the mercy of his bittersweet affection. you tried to keep up with him, almost afraid that you wouldn’t be enough for him — but corio didn’t care. he couldn’t have cared less as he backed you into the foot of the bed. he didn’t stop kissing you as the back of your legs hit your soft mattress, and you were forced to sit down.

with his tongue tangling with yours, you managed to lift your hands to the top buttons of his shirt. he batted your hands away and went to work on his own buttons. you reached behind for your zipper to your dress and attempted to undue it.

corio then pushed your hands away with that too — ripping the zipper down its track and pushing the sleeves down your shoulders.

“corio —“ you gasped through the kiss, struggling to keep up with him.

he pulled away for a short moment, staring into your eyes. “i have denied myself being with you for so long — nothing is stopping me now.”

he held the glare, and you could only stare back at him in fright. however, that was when you realized that he had felt the same way, or at least similar — you both wanted each other, and had been scared to approach the other. your heart filled with warmth, threatening to explode, but all you could do was nod.

he seemed to calm down then, glancing down towards your lips where he prodded your bottom lip with the tip of his numb. “i have wondered for so long what it would be like to kiss my perfect wife — and now that i know, i don’t think i’ll ever give it up.”

you smiled at that. “can i tell you what i have been wondering?”

his eyes met yours once more, almost a warning. you didn’t falter, though. he replied, “yes?”

“i’ve wondered what it would be like to please you,” you spoke softly, a pink hue rising to your cheeks.

his flat look broke then, softening. a smirk greeted his features and you could see his confidence in himself rise. “my lovely wife wants to please me?”

“yes,” you spoke, holding your breath. “if you’ll let me.”

bright and striking, flames of mischief came to light in his irises. emotions of excitement and fear rose within you, and you weren’t sure which was stronger. all you could do was watch as your strong, powerful, larger than life husband stood over you, chin raised, looking down his nose at you, as he unbuckled his belt. his pants and briefs, once around his ankles, were discarded — but you didn’t see that. you couldn’t look away from his eyes — holding you, and your gaze, in place.

it was like you were an enemy he was testing. you didn’t know what he expected, let alone what would make him happy — but you hoped his expectations were slightly lower in light of your inexperience. you swallowed the hard rock of nervousness in your throat, stood up, and gestured for him to sit down on the edge of the bed. he raised an eyebrow at you, but complied. you sat down on your knees in between his, and waited patiently for direction.

“can you…” you began. “can you teach me?”

he smirked once more. “take me in your hand.”

you bent your head lower, and grabbed him by the base. he was hard and warm in your hand as you saw him trying to fight the twitching feeling in his limbs. his muscles were tight, afraid to show weakness. you grew uncomfortable — you didn’t want him weak, but you did want him to feel comfortable enough with you to enjoy a fucking blowjob.

holding his muscle upright, you stuck your tongue out and licked around the tip of his cock. he was salty, but smelled so masculine after a long day. his scent infiltrated all of your senses and had captured your attention. it made you hungry, greedy — so much so that you closed your lips around his cock and began to suck.

he jumped then. “teeth,” he spat.

you paled in embarrassment and fright — but didn’t allow your fear to show for long. you adjusted your tongue and lips — so that your top lip was folded under your top set, and your outstretched tongue covered your bottom set. hollowing out your cheeks, you took him into your mouth once more.

a low hum filled his chest.

you couldn’t see him, and could barely hear him — corio was being a selfish lover and not letting you know whether or not he was enjoying himself. he told you once before you were doing something wrong, so you tried to trust that he would tell you.

that was easier said than done, frankly. with your free hand, you reached up and began to massage his sack in the soft skin of your palm. the hum in his chest turned deeper and louder, and you felt his hips twitch once.

maybe it shouldn't have mattered that he wasn't vocal — but it wasn't like he was shy. you would not fault him for not doing something he didn't want to do, but it was like he was denying you that. if you were making him feel good, and he was fighting the volume of his moans — how fucking dare he deny you of that! there you were, constantly at his beck and call, and he couldn't even freely moan with you? you were obedient, quiet, grateful, everything he wanted — but this? this? too much. absolutely too much of an ask.

you had to do something.

"mr. president," you cooed, twisting your soft tongue around the tip of his cock. "you're awfully quiet above me."

he let out a laugh as he struggled to keep his composure. one of hands found the back of your head as his fingers struggled to tangle themselves in between your strands. they were tugging and pulling, but there was no strength in his grip. his grip — wouldn't catch. couldn't catch. corio, you husband — struggled day in and day out to keep the control in the capital and inside his castle. there was a part of you that believed he just needed to let go, let someone else be in control — but you were his pretty little wife after all. you had until death to try everything. losing control could wait, because tonight... tonight was about making corio the grateful one for once.

you let your loose grip run circles up and down the length of his cock. his shaft was wet and thick, begging the attention of the light from above so the skin was able to glisten. the tip of his cock, red and angry, almost neglected — never had you seen something so delicious, nor deserving of affection. your lips, swollen, wrapped themselves around the tip of his cock as you sucked. notes of salt and sweat mixed together on your tongue, and you hummed at the taste.

"taste sweet, mrs. snow?" you heard from above you. your eyes glanced up to find corio's eyes glazed over with pleasure. his eyelids were drooping over, and all you could think about how badly you wanted to make him close his eyes in bliss. your eyes watched his eyes, but his eyes watched the way your mouth sucked him in. "being so good for me. let your husband see what else you can do."

your ears perked in interest. you didn't know what he meant, but you were intrigued to see if he would teach you.

"please... show me what you like," you spoke, extending your neck as he lowered his face to yours.

"so eager to please..." he spoke, staring down at you in awe. his hand slid down for your scalp to cup your cheek. he looked into your eyes like he was studying you — searching for something surface level. a flaw, or something good... you weren't sure. "i suppose some would say i'm lucky."

you didn't like the sound of that... but you didn't let it show. you gave him a hint of a smile. "i don't think it matters what anyone else thinks. i think what matters is you telling me what you like... so you can decide if you're lucky or not."

he chuckled at that, but his laugh was reserved. always holding back, your husband. "you really want to be a good little wife for me... don't you?"

you fell into the strength behind the hand on your face and keened into his touch. his hand was warm against your skin. "please, corio... please let me."

he stood then, and your gaze raised with his body. you gazed up at him as he stared down at you. there his eyes went again — searching yours. he stood closer to you then, bending down slightly. "it would please me if, at any point, you told me to stop because of the pain. i don't want to hurt you." his voice was low and soft then, immediately striking you. "can i trust you to do that? hmm?"

"i'll tell you," you replied, nodding your head. "i promise."

"never break a promise you make to me," he warned.

you nodded your head once more, unsure how to proceed. he led you over to the side of the bed where he gestured for your to lie down. with the passing of time, you became more and more aware of how bare you both were in front of each other. you were ready to let down every fence of insecurity for the man before you... but there were still walls of his that threatened to come down. he was hot and cold every other moment, it seemed... and you weren’t even sure where to begin.

“husband,” you spoke, unsteadily, as he found his place between his legs. “you seem so… distrustful of me. what can i do? please, corio, i just want this moment to be special for us — for you.”

there his eyes went — searching yours again. it was like he was rereading a page in a book over and over, hoping to find the hidden message in the black and white scripture. his eyes, going back and forth, appeared to be looking over unclear smudges and scribbles as his lips began to purse. you almost said something — stopped him from withdrawing into himself, but he moved before you could.

he sat back against the pillows, which faced a mirror across your bed. you rose curiously, hoping that he would finally give you some direction. he simply took your hand in his, and gestured for you to come closer. “come,” he spoke.

in his lap, maybe? you thought curiously. you went to throw your leg over his, before he stopped you. with a furrowed brow, you watched as he adjusted you so your back laid against his chest.

“do as i say,” he whispered against your ear, sending shivers up and down your spine.

your eyes were cast to the side, his outline in your peripheral vision. you nodded, letting your lips fall apart. you felt one of his hands on the soft skin of your thigh, grazing upwards towards your hips. you almost let your eyes fall closed, hoping to lose yourself in the sensations, before corio stopped you.

with that same hand, he reached upwards and grasped your chin between his fingers. your eyes shot open as he moved your head to now face the mirror, and the pair of you in it.

shallow breaths were pushing past your lips as you stared into the mirror. your cheeks were flushed, your hair in a slight disarray, and your lips were swollen. with a flutter of your eyelashes, your gaze flickered towards corio’s reflection. your husband was always perfect — so even the slight persuasion from tidiness was a remarkable sight to you. his eyes were focused — unable to remain cool, calm, and collected as usual.

his eyes, you thought. his eyes will always tell me.

“you will watch,” corio spoke suddenly, voice hard. “you will keep your eyes on my hands. you stray, and i leave. understand?”

you nodded, looking into his eyes through the mirror.

he cocked an eyebrow.

“yes,” you spoke, almost breathless. “i understand.”

corio’s hand then found its way to your center. the tips of his finger tips, soft and hot, lightly drew a line up and down your slit. your eyes wouldn’t leave the mirror — focused on his fingertips. it was like your skin knew every correct button to tap, tap, tap. every part of you was so sensitive, so keen to his touch that you were embarrassed. you felt so pathetic against his chest, bent to his will — but you wouldn’t have had it any other way. the voice in your head was whining and hoping you would give in, just give in, let down your guard, give in, forget manners. you wanted to keep your composure as long as possible, but when corio’s middle finger found your clit…

oh… you were done for.

one of your hands immediately snapped up to find corio’s bicep and clutch onto whatever foundation he could give. you didn’t dare let your eyes meet his, even in the mirror — what if he stopped? what, huh? what then? when you were the closest you had been ever? you couldn’t allow yourself to be greedy, not when he was being oh, so selfless.

the circles he was drawing taunted your ability remain calm. he rolled your tiny clit underneath the weight of the tip of his finger and pressed down with every circle. it pushed, and pulled, and fucking pried at every fiber of your being. you could only force yourself up and back against corio, whining like a pathetic mess.

“running away from me, my sweet?” he whispered in your ear. “when i’m being so kind?”

his words bit at your ear, reminding you of your position in his world. your eyes were threatening to drift closed, hoping, praying, that corio would let you slip this once from your responsibilities. naive, you were, to believe that.

“remember our deal, wife,” he darkly cooed in your ear. “one request was all i had. i refuse to be denied it.”

“i know, i know…” you whined, rolling your hips with his hand. “it just feels so good, corio… i’ve never… no one’s ever…”

“i can tell you never knew how bad your body would crave it,” he spoke, nipping at your earlobe. “even your pussy obeys me, drenching my fingers. too sweet for this world, aren’t you?”

“just wanna be sweet for you, corio,” you whined as your vision began to blur.

the approaching orgasm was anything but a warm and fuzzy feeling around you. it was hot and jagged — making your muscles jerk, yet force your hips to roll into every movement of corio’s. the cloud over your brain felt like a warm haze of the finest whisky or tobacco the capital could offer. you were numb, drunk, and unable to process the world around you unless it was corio. his touch, his taste, his scent, his look, his orders… everything was setting you off and keeping you in place all at once. your body was hot to the touch, feverish as it tried to fight your sophistication and just fucking —

“that’s it, sweetheart. so focused on the mirror you can’t even find the strength to let go for me,” he spat, pressing a kiss to your cheek and breathing in your scent. “ride my hand like the good girl you are. you wanted to show me, remember?”

tears were brimming your eyes and blurring your vision. your teeth were gritted and bared for him. one of his hands came up to loosely grasp your throat as your hips began to spasm. it was so much, too much, so much —

“corio, please —“ you cried. “please let me look away. i can’t — i have to cry, i can’t —“

there was no softness in his movements against your aching clit. corio had now employed two fingers to dip into your core, collect your slick, and rub it along your sensitive bud in harsh circles. it sent your mind through a suffocating tube and gasping for air. you were begging, pleading — unsure what would happen if you were denied the ability to finish in peace. you began to cry in frustration and fear, so sensitive to the touch and his approval.

“corio…” you whimpered. “please, please let me…”

“do it,” he spat, holding your throat and kissing your face. “show your husband how fucking messy you can be for him.”

you grasped onto him and threw yourself back.

it was like a rollercoaster. twists and turns, yanking your body every which way. corio’s body rocked with yours as the sensations climbed and fit into every single one of your limbs. your lungs, burning, were screaming for air as you tried to fight for consciousness. the world was white, milky, foggy — unable to navigate, let alone exist in. all you could feel was corio’s body moving with yours and coaxing you through the most insane moment of your entire life.

tears fell down your face, and you struggled to conceal it. corio refused to let you hide from him. he bent his face low to yours and pressed the side of his face against the side of yours.

his breaths were heavy, similar to yours.

“corio…” you whimpered, almost whining.

“i know, sweetheart,” he cooed. “so good for me, weren’t you? asking so obediently and politely.”

you nodded, pressing your forehead against his. “i’m sorry that i was —“

“what’re you sorry for?” he demanded.

you clenched your jaw. “i was — i am — i’m worried i was too much — i was so — out of control —“

he shut you up with a kiss. coriolanus snow refused to allow you to continue, or else he knew he would be offended if he had let you finished.

“i wanted that,” he stated. “every bit of that. what, you don’t find it agonizing to be prim and fucking proper every day?”

you laughed uneasily, a bit spooked by his outburst of aggression. “i thought you — i thought that was what you wanted from me.”

he shook his head. “out there — it’s necessary. in here, when it’s only the two of us? don’t ever hide yourself from me. you must promise.”

you swallowed as your haze began to disappear. “only if you promise the same."

you saw his jaw pulse from the corner of your eye. “i promise.”

“i promise,” you returned.

you quickly reconnected your lips. you couldn't let the moment slip away. you needed to seize him while he was there — trusting you for the first time in your entire relationship. you found both of your hands on the side of his face and held him to you. corio fought for control, but you gave in immediately. the need for him to need you was stronger and more satisfying that anything else you could've experienced in that moment. you turned around, straddling his lap and pushing him down to the bed.

everything you were doing was improper: grabbing your husband, forcibly kissing him, sitting in his lap, pushing him down... you almost stopped. you almost gave into the insecurity and made friends with with meekness and shyness once more. however, you made a promise — and you intended to keep it.

"i want you inside me, corio," you whispered against his lips. "please, i want to feel you —"

"again, sweetheart?" he ripped himself from your lips to grunt out his teasing. "one taste, and you're addicted?"

you hummed approval against his lips, tangling your tongue with his. with one hand on the back of your head, holding your face to his, corio's other hand fished between the pair of you and grasped his leaking cock in his hand. the tip was red and swollen, aching for some stimulation or attention. he spread his precum over his tip and with a firm hand, corio slid his cock inside of you.

you arched your back away from corio. the feeling of him being fully sheathed inside of you bent your attention in every which was. both of your hands cradled the back of his head into your chest, where he found himself nestled between your breasts. his breaths were hot and heavy, moist against your skin. his swollen lips found one of your perky nipples and sucked it into his mouth, caving to his primal urges. coriolanus snow wanted every part of you for himself, and needed to place that claim on every part of your body. he wanted your thighs to shake and ache from being locked around him, your fingers to tremble from your hard grip, and he wanted your lips to be bruised from how hard he made you bite them. and, most of all, he wanted every loud moan to rip itself from your aching throat and fill the perfectly painted walls of this damned room.

he cursed you when you threw a hand over your mouth, and he immediately ripped it away. "don't you fucking dare," he spat.

you ignored him. he was your husband, and he was the scariest man you would ever meet, and yet you ignored him. most of all, your hips ignored him. they began to roll against his own the best they could for their inexperience. up, down, and grinding down was the best they could manage before corio grabbed you by the flesh of your hips and moved you to his liking. and when your mouth parted and a loud cry made your throat shake when he twisted your hips forward, he knew he found the spot.

"do not ever deny me what i am owed," he spat, fucking into that spot that wrapped a tight band around your abdomen. "i want to hear how good i am making you feel, and i will. i get to hear. those are mine. i am owed those."

again, you ignored him. what did he expect when your eyes began to roll back into your head and you began to match his pace? you were close, you were so, so close...

that was when corio grabbed you by the chin, refusing to let up his pace. his eyes were full of darkness, yet focus. like he had found his prey. you tried to focus, tried to give him the respect the deserved... but you couldn't. your mind was swimming, and your arching cunt was dripping down his length and onto the skin of his pelvis. you were lost. so fucking lost.

"yours, corio!" you whined. "all yours. only yours."

his voice was gruff against your lips as his thrust became rougher. "say it again."

your eyes began to drift closed as you leaned your head into the crook of his neck, rolling your hips against his. his cock had found its way to the most sensitive and purest part of you and ripped down every wall you had. you sobbed, "yours, corio. only yours."

corio threw you off of him and your back hit the bed. he was on top of you in an instant. he threw your legs up and pressed them against your chest. with your ankles on his shoulders, he pushed himself inside of you and began to relentlessly punish your perfect fucking pussy.

"mine, you got that?" he spat against your ear. "i have watched you, day after day, put on this fucking act! perfect and proper — but i made a proper whore out of the most desirable woman in the capital, didn't i? and now she's mine — forever warming my bed."

"forever, corio," you whined. your sobs were music to his ears, going straight to his cock. your cunt was raw from the friction and slick, unsure if corio should stop or keep going — but you didn't let him guess. "inside me, corio, please... want it to bad. been so good for you..."

his hand was around your throat and demanding your attention. "as if i'd waste a drop when every man in the capital would be able to see you round with my child. you want that wife? my seed, my child? you want to be fully claimed by me?"

"yes," you cried, tears falling down your cheeks. "give it to me, husband, please —"

corio reached down in between your hips and rubbed your clit with whatever energy he had left. his thrust were growing sloppy, but his movements against your swollen bud were worse. he was hissing in your ear as he continued the assault against you. your moans were loud as they escaped your lips and filled the room, setting corio's skin on fire. sweat dripped down from his brow and down his neck to mingle with yours as your second orgasm of the evening began to approach. it snapped the rubber band in your lower belly and you immediately sobbed into corio's neck. his hips continued to rut in you, forcing you down onto the bed as he swallowed all of your sobs for himself. your nails dug into his back and down his spine, hoping to rip parts from him that he had taken from you.

when corio came, you were in a stupor. cock drunk with your mouth hanging open, dazed. when corio came, one of his hands grabbed your messy pile of hair, wrenching at the roots. he pulled you to the side to suck on the sensitive skin of your neck as he pumped your cunt full of his cum. your walls were hot and sticky, full of him, but it only caused the most sickeningly warm feeling to spread throughout you. every primal need of yours was satisfied, and corio could see every bit of it on your face. the pride that welled within your husband... shameful. no man should be in possession of such an ego boost like making the prettiest, more desired woman in all of panem break from all bounds of social etiquette. you were warm, and wet, and craving every bit of his touch, so he couldn't deny you... not anymore. not when he felt the same. with each sob that left your mouth, he felt a kick in the pit of his stomach as his balls throbbed. never in his life had a woman ripped from him what he had taken from her, cheeks hot and muscles worn out.

he would regret it in the morning, maybe, but not now. no — not now.

"husband, forgive me, but..." you spoke. "my mind is a mess. i don't think i can read to you this evening."

corio rolled his eyes and laughed. "that good?"

you pressed a kiss to his lips as you hummed in approval. "never wait that long to bed your wife again."

he chuckled darkly. "watch it, sweetheart."

---

love u guys sm sorry it was so long ty for reading love u love u love u

-L xooxoxooxox

[rileyslibrary]

Ghost is shocked by your immunity to being tased.

I received an ask from an anon for this story. Unfortunately, either Tumblr ate it, or I accidentally deleted it; I can’t be sure because I trust neither of us. Gladly, I remember the gist of it. I hope that anon sees it. (Sorry, anon, and thank you for the ask.)

———————————————————————

You push open the workshop door, and notice a curated display of taser gear spread across the table for today’s training session. Ghost, your lieutenant and trainer for the day, occupies a corner, busy with extracting all sorts of stuff—taser guns, pulses, stun batons—from bags and placing them on the table. He catches the sound of your entrance and turns halfway to face you.

“You’re early,” he mutters under his breath.

“I just couldn’t wait, Lieutenant,” you reply sarcastically.

He huffs. “We’ll see about that once training’s over.”

You approach the table, and look at the equipment. You reach out and grasp a taser gun. It looks exactly like a pistol but bulkier and has yellow elements to distinguish it from firearms.

“Could you please remind me how this baby works?” you ask.

He turns his entire body towards you and contemplates your question. Although the training session is just half an hour away, and he doesn’t technically need to explain anything, you’re his weak spot. So he leaves the gear in the bag, walks towards you, and begins to give you a detailed explanation.

It almost feels like a private session, but you have ulterior motives—you’ve already been through a similar class in the past and are eager to skip this one. Despite your repeated attempts to convey this to Ghost, he remained adamant that this course would be a refresher for you and, thus, necessary.

“Once you have a clear shot, you press the trigger.” He concludes.

“Like this?” you ask, directing the taser towards your right foot and squeezing the trigger. It stings, but your previous training has taught you how to get used to the feeling and handle the pain better. Or at least make it look that way.

Your poor lieutenant stands speechless as he looks at the now-fired taser gun. He slowly looks down, where his shocked eyes trace the two wires extending from the device, connecting to your foot.

“What the fuck did you do?” he shouts, gesturing towards your leg.

“Jeez, Lt., you seem stunned,” you comment.

“Are you having a laugh, soldier?” He scolds you with as much authority as he has left from what he just experienced. He drops to the ground, working to remove the wires from your foot. He stands up, alternating his gaze between the device and your leg. Finally, he turns to you.

“How come you’re not in pain?” he asks, confused.

You shrug, unaffected, and pick up another taser from the table. “Maybe the first one was defective; let’s give this one a go,” you suggest, aiming at your other foot and firing.

“Are you out of your mind, Y/N?” he screams in a high-pitched voice and kneels again to retrieve the second taser from your foot.

“Come on, Lt., it’s not as bad as it seems!” You reassure him with a grin, seizing a third taser from the table. This time, you point it at Ghost’s leg. “Wanna see?”

He lifts his knee and gathers his arms close to his body. He looks like a pitcher, ready to throw the ball in a baseball match.

“No, no, thank you very much”, he protests.

“Sure?” You ask and aim at his other leg on the ground.

“Absolutely certain, you maniac,” he says, switching legs. “How far are you willing to go to skip this class?!”

“Not too far,” you reply with a smile, “as far as these two wires go when they get propelled from the taser gun.”

“Cut it out!”

To his relief, the rest of the team enters the room, and Ghost instantly transitions into his authoritative persona. He places both feet on the ground, protrudes his chest, and places both hands on his waist. He clears his throat.

“Take your positions, everyone,” he commands, “everyone except for you, Y/N.”

“Why am I excluded, Lieutenant?” you ask with a pout and a playful wink. “Is it because I’m unfazed?”

“Nah, soldier,” he replies and walks behind you to tidy the wires from the already-shot taser guns, “it’s because you’re a live wire—always keeping me on my toes.”

———————————————————————

[satorusluver]

Dilf!Toji x college student!reader

Word count: 800 ish

Tags: smut (MDNI), slight fluff, fem reader, age difference, p in v, mating press, doggy style, mild degradation

A/N: I can't get dilf college au Toji out of my mind so....

Although it had been a couple of years since his wife died, Toji hadn't had the time to date. He was too busy balancing his work and single fatherhood, especially now that he was going back to school. Instead, he settled for the occasional dating app hookup to get his needs met. Until he met you.

You had to be what, ten, twelve years his junior? But you were a pretty little thing, and no matter how much you tried to hide it, you practically drooled over your older dilf classmate. Toji didn't miss the way you eyed him every time he walked into class, or how easily you would get flustered with just a bit of flirting on his part. Toji didn't have time to date, no, but that didn't mean the two of you couldn't come to a mutually beneficial arrangement.

After all, Megumi often needed a babysitter on nights Toji worked overtime. Toji was quite up front with you about it -you watch his son for a couple of hours until he got home from work, and in return Toji would reward you with a crisp twenty and by folding you in half like a lawn chair on his bed and pounding your cervix with the fat, precum-dripping head of his eight inch dick until you soaked his sheets with your cum.

"Oh, fuck, To-oji!" you cry, your orgasm rocking through you as your messy cunt squirted all over Toji's wide girth. He loved seeing you like this, your knees against your chest and your eyes rolled back in bliss as he fucked you completely dumb on his cock. And Toji, well, he had quite the mouth on him in the heat of the moment, something which he'd warned you about ahead of time.

"Atta girl, don't gotta fuckin' think, do you? Just gotta cum for me. Ohh fuck, that little pussy's squeezin' me so tight," he huffs, leaning his massive, muscled form over you to achieve an even deeper angle as he fucks into you harshly. The overstimulation of him hitting that spongy spot inside you so hard makes your toes curl and your body arch into him, unable to get enough even if it's too much.

"What're you even in college for, princess? We both know your real job is taking my dick. You should just quit and become Megumi's stepmother so I can fuck you this good every night. Wouldn't you like that, princess? Hungry little cockslut that you are, practically beggin' for my dick the moment I walked in the door." But instead of answering him, you slap a hand over your mouth to keep your sobs of pleasure from being heard by Megumi, who was currently watching cartoons just down the hall.

You both knew it was his dick talking, that he didn't really mean it, but when he was balls deep in your sweet, tight heat and your needy little cunt was sucking him back in with every thrust, he'd utter things he'd never otherwise dare.

"Fuuuck yeah, wouldn't mind coming home to this everyday, having this pretty little pussy waiting for me." As he speaks, he reaches his hands down to gently spread your pussy lips with his thumbs, getting a good look at your puffy pink folds and swollen clit that glisten with your mixed juices.

You'd never admit it to him, he was cocky enough already, but you think his dick might've spoiled you for all other men. He was by far bigger than any of your exes, and far more experienced thanks to his age. The ease with which he managed to find your g-spot never ceased to amaze you, and not one time have you had sex with him without him getting you off at least twice.

As the semester dragged on, you kept coming back for more. One night after a shitty first date you show up to his house all dolled up and holding back tears after your date went to the bathroom and never came back, and it's mere minutes before he's ruining your so carefully done makeup by shoving your face into his pillowcase and fucking the melancholy from your failed date right out of you.

"He was a fuckin' dumbass, that guy," Toji says as the two of lie next to each other in the afterglow. "Leavin' a girl like you alone like that. If I took you out, I'd show you a good time...well, I just did show you a good time," he adds with a chuckle.

"But you know what I mean. If...if you were up for that..." he mumbles, nervously scratching the back of his dark, now disheveled hair.

"I thought you didn't have time to date?" you ask him, although your tone is light and a small smile tugs at the corners of your lips.

"Yeah, well, for you...maybe I do."

[suguann]

OH, DARLING—ASTARION

✎. he’s in a perpetually strange mood for the rest of the day, quieter than usual and more sulky, and you have the sneaking suspicion he's upset with you. | wc. 1.3K+

tags. fem!reader, established relationship, jealousy, slight dirty talk, pet names [18+ only]

masterlist

Eighteen days. That’s how long it takes between the Shadowlands and reaching Wyrm’s Crossing. Longer still since you’ve interacted with anyone other than bandits, lost refugees, cult-crazed lunatics, and your merry band of weirdos (Gale’s words, not yours). 

For once, you’re not picking berries off bushes to offset hunger until you make camp or plucking bramble from your pants when the occasional trail turns out to be safer than the King’s Road. You can finally sit at a bartop and order wine instead of choking down the contents of an ancient bottle of Ithbank you snatched from a cellar in some decrepit village.

That was at least the most tolerable thing you experienced outside the gates, as far as roughing it in the wilds goes.

And it might be your newfound appreciation for city life, of finding an escape from what’s become your current normal—sneaking past goblin-infested camps, waterlogged boots, and haystacks for beds (an upgrade from sleeping on the cold, hard dirt, you suppose)—that lures the Drow twins over to your party walking down from the top floor of the Sharess’ Caress.

“You must be curious after keeping such…” Nym glances over Astarion, Shadowheart, and Karlach, hovering behind you, threatening with blood stains on their clothes and out of place in an establishment full of nobles and wealthy ministers. “Interesting company.”

It’s safe to say you’re uninterested in the twins, but that doesn’t stop your curiosity from piquing when Nym demonstrates her talents with a peach she snatches from a fruit bowl off the nearest table. By the end of it—an obscene display that catches the eye of a few patrons walking by and sends your imagination reeling—you wonder how often she does this to gain clientele. If it’s always so…hands-on.

“So what do you think?” 

You don’t know what to think, oddly confused like that first time Astarion had to spell out for you that he wanted to have sex—you’re going to be so fun to break, pet—a girl who’s every bit the product and trappings of a sheltered fool. 

“Are you interested?”

The mutilated peach in Nym’s hand drips clear fruit juice down her wrist in thin rivulets, collecting at her elbow. You start to shake your head—

Astarion scoffs. “She already has her hands full without your sticky fingers and whatever the hells you’re doing to that innocent peach.” 

Nym’s mouth curls up into a coy smile before her gaze sweeps over to Astarion. “Her lover, I presume?”

“As in, I already tasted said peach while you’re still trying to get your mouth on it; well then, yes. Very much so.”

You slap his chest, your face somehow getting hotter. “Astarion!”

“Darling, we’re in a whorehouse. I assure you they’ve heard worse.”

Nym makes a wordless, amused sound. “Well, if you ever find yourself curious or—” she gives Astarion one last scrutinizing once over and looks at you again “—unsatisfied, you know where to find me and my brother.”

Before you can politely decline, Astarion chips in on your behalf, “Trust me, she’s not.”

He steers you toward the door—I’m never going to look at a silly piece of fruit the same after this—and you don’t miss how he sends the twins a withering stare right before he joins you on the street.

He’s in a perpetually strange mood for the rest of the day, quieter than usual and more sulky. 

You stare at the back of his head as he walks in front of you, bulky pack slung over his shoulder with the books and scrolls you bought earlier, deciding whether you should join him or leave him to his thoughts.

Karlach nudges your shoulder. “Trouble in paradise, soldier?”

“Not really.” You bite your lip. “Should there be?”

Her gaze follows yours to Astarion, and she hums in understanding.

“If you stare at his back any longer, you might burn a hole through it." Heat crawls up your neck, and you try to give her a shove when Astarion looks at both of you over his shoulder, but she doesn't move an inch and laughs instead. "He’s probably upset over finding another pebble in his boot again. Don’t sweat it.”

An unreasonable suggestion, for you know it’s more than another pebble.

He doesn’t say anything once you all reach camp, nor does he give you even the slightest acknowledgment when you walk by his tent on your way to bed or look up from his book—no hello, my sweet readily waiting on his tongue—when you slip a little note under his nose. 

It’s starting to give you the sneaking suspicion he’s upset with you—though you hardly have the faintest idea why.

You’re pulled awake by the quiet, careful shifting of your blanket as someone slips into your bedroll behind you. You stare blearily at the barn's wall, trying to blink away the disorienting feeling still clinging to you like dew on a humid summer day. 

It’s the first brush of sharp incisors against your throat that erases the last vestiges of sleep altogether.

Ah, so he read your note.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” you whisper, aware enough to remember the other two people sleeping in the barn with you.

“Have I?”

“You know what I mean.” You tighten your grip on your blanket. “You’re upset, aren’t you?”

He kisses the tender spot below your ear. “I wouldn’t phrase it like that.”

“But you’re unhappy.”

Your breath hitches when his tongue flicks out to taste your skin. 

“Yes, I’m unhappy.”

“Was it because of what that drow said?”

“Hm, be more specific.”

“When she—with the peach.” You squirm a little, a mouse blessedly caught by the tail. “You know.”

His chuckle is soft, faintly mocking.

“Oh, darling. You think I’m jealous?” He runs a thumb over the fluttering pulse in your neck. “How cute.” 

And right before he applies the smallest amount of pressure—

“Well, you would be correct.”

When Astarion works at the laces of your pants, loosening them just enough to slip his hand underneath, you jump at the first cool brush of his fingers tracing across your heated skin. Your muscles jump, jump, jump under his touch, goosebumps prickling along your arms when his hand fits suddenly between your legs. Two soft pats that make you gasp.

“Drippy,” he murmurs. You don’t think your face can get any hotter.

Then he’s hooking two—fuck, three—fingers into you, splitting you open, curling up toward your belly; you can’t bite back the moan that breaks free.

“Hush, pet.”

Nipping at your neck, he scissors his fingers, smiling at your choked, stuttered gasp.

“Do you think I’d let anyone see how you fall apart with a few quick strokes of the fingers? How you sound? How you taste?” 

The questions are followed by his thumb pressing into the achy spot at the apex between your legs, and you don’t mention that he’s doing this with two other people sleeping soundly on the other side of the room. 

“This—” his fingers curl inside you, pressing until he finds soft flesh that makes your legs jerk. “This is all for me—mine—wouldn’t you agree?”

You nod slowly, hand clamped over your mouth to trap the sounds that keep escaping.

“Good, so we understand each other then.”

Your thighs tremble around his wrist. His fangs drag across the thin, breakable column throat, almost like a warning, catching at two identical scars that haven’t fully healed since you’ve let a feral, lost little vampire into your camp before he gives in and bites.

Digging in—messy—you imagine the dribble of red down his pale chin, how he sometimes leaves it there to savor later.

You’re limp and floating in a matter of seconds, your mind blissfully quiet for the first time in days.

“Remember that, darling, the next time someone starts giving you ideas.” After a moment, he whispers: "But I'm also happy you said no."

And he slips out of your bedroll without so much of a creak in the floorboards and out of the barn as if he was never there.

[l0v3tast3]

Ok but older perv bf ghost would be such a menace like he would destroy your cunt in his back seat and then shake ur dads hand.( these older bf hcs make me go feral bb)

anon you are so right. he'll be so mean but like it's literally his fault that he's hot asf and u just wanna jump on him 24/7 ??? anyways tysm for the request and the kind words i hope you enjoy this anon !! ◝(⁰▿⁰)◜

✎ tags: mdni! nsft, f!reader, age gap (r is 20's, simon is late 30's), dumbification, conditioning (consensual), orgasm control, spanking, degradation/praise kink, overstimulation/edging, car s3x, size difference/kink, possessive!simon, c0ckwarming

✎ word count: 1.8k words (not proofread)

masterlist | requests are open!

✧ ˖ ° pervy older boyfriend!simon who wants to see you become absolutely brainless because of him. you're such a smart girl usually, among the top of your class at university, and simon just loves to see that whole façade crumble away. he knows a good fucking is just what you need to unwind from your classes, and he is more than happy to give it to you.

✧ ˖ ° seeing you go all dumb on his cock makes simon nearly giddy, the feeling of how you stop pushing at his abs and just take it once he bullies his dick in far enough to fill your brain with him instead of whatever you're studying, the sight of your eyes rolling back and your little hands weakly grabbing at whatever they can reach for some semblance of grounding yourself. you know just as well as simon does that it's useless; he makes damn sure that you have nowhere to run to when he has you in his hold.

✧ ˖ ° another thing he makes sure of is that you steadily become the one to come onto him first. simon wants you to be his own little nymphomaniac, addicted to his cock, to him. it all works towards melting your brain quicker and quicker each time. there's a certain dedication he puts towards it- even by the time he was done with you the first time you slept together, he's planning it out, figuring out which muscles to press into to get you to mewl for him, just the right angle to pound his dick into you, how much you can take before he starts seeing dew drops collecting on your waterline.

✧ ˖ ° even outside of the bedroom (or kitchen, or living room, wherever he has yet to christen next in his house) simon's working on it. he'll give you so many hoodies, jackets, boxers, anything that smells like him that you want, and then he tells you that if you're going to touch yourself without him that you better be at least wearing his clothes while you do it. eventually you'll get to the point where you can't get off without the thought of him, without his scent, then without him. there's no doubt either that whenever you do get worked up without him, simon makes sure that you always tell him. text him, call him, send a damn carrier pigeon with a letter, he doesn't care, but he's going to guide you through every orgasm you have.

✧ ˖ ° pervy older boyfriend!simon who can get to be a mean dom. he loves punishing you for whatever reason he can find, especially when you touch yourself without telling him. simon is an experienced special ops soldier who's used his hands to torture people as much as he's used them to pleasure you, so he has not a single problem with knowing how to get the truth out of you. obviously he doesn't torture you, though (not in a way you don't like).

✧ ˖ ° if it's been a long stretch of time where you haven't been able to see each other, he'll pull you onto his lap and start out all soft. he'll run his hands all over you, move his lips against yours sweet and slow, whisper about how much he missed his pretty little girl. he'll listen with a happy hum while you tell him how much you missed him, how much you need him. he'll guide your hips lightly when you can't help but start grinding against his thigh, hands pushing up your skirt to see which pair of underwear he gets to rip apart this time. and then he'll ask you how much you missed him.

✧ ˖ ° from the start you know the question is a double-edged sword, but you always answer truthfully. it only took you one lesson to learn that simon knows when you lie to him (he didn't let you cum for three days while he kept you at his house the entire time). he always appreciates the truth, praises you for being such a good girl for him when you honestly tell him that you only touched yourself during the short phone calls he was allowed while he was away. there's a little part of him that's always a bit disappointed though, the same part that turns into glee when you sheepishly admit that you couldn't wait for him.

✧ ˖ ° simon's always a bit too quick at flipping you over so your laying face-down over his thighs. one hand wraps around your neck to pull you up and arch your back, the other flipping up your skirt and grabbing roughly at your squishy ass. "couldn't fuckin' wait f'me, huh? y'so desperate for cock that y'can't follow simple orders? thought i already taught ya how to be patient," he spits, letting you fall back against the couch so his hand can move down to plant itself across your back. that's when he starts, not even waiting for you to try to apologize meekly or defend yourself. slaps that leave bruises you'll be feeling for days rain down across your ass and simon makes you count each one. if you lose count or stop, he'll push open your legs to smack your cunt and start all over. simon doesn't let up until you're sniffling and whining and your underwear is soaked through (which of course he makes fun of you for).

✧ ˖ ° pervy older boyfriend!simon who really is an absolute menace with you. he dangles your pleasure over your head like something he grabbed for you out of the cabinets, keeping it just out of your reach until he decides to give it to you. there won't ever be a moment where simon doesn't have most, if not all of the control. there's something about having that command over you, feeling you hand over your trust, your body and mind to him that's addicting. so no matter how cruel he can get, he'll always make sure to ply you with as many orgasms as you can handle (and then some) to show his appreciation.

✧ ˖ ° his brutishness can come in the form of wanting to see just how messy he can get you to be. he'll bury his face and fingers into your cunt until there's a puddle forming underneath you, and when he's done there, simon stuffs you full with his cock and fucks you until your makeup is running with your tears and smearing across the sheets. he'll rip off the clothes that bar him from seeing your gorgeous body so that you have to wear something of his afterwards. and god help you if he wants to fuck in the backseat of his car before you both go someplace. which, (not) shockingly, is something he wants to do before he meets your parents.

✧ ˖ ° with the car parked not too far from your parents house in some spot where people won't think to give the tinted windows a second look, he'll have you working your way down on his cock. every time you whine about how you're going to be late, they're going to know, they won't be happy, simon gives your ass a sharp slap and snaps his hips up into yours. "would y'rather i fuck you in your room while they're home? don't think you can keep quiet enough for that," he mocks, his tone condescending despite the fact that he's already planning on doing just that at some point.

✧ ˖ ° once you're practically limp against his body, letting him use you like his personal toy, he'll finally cum. you finish with him, your third orgasm in less than an hour, as he buries his cock to the hilt inside you and grinds his hips up. once you're semi-conscious again he helps you put on your underwear and pants and gives you his hoodie. and after you've taken off your ruined makeup and redid at least some of it, you'll drive the remaining minute to your parents house, where simon seems to know just how to get them to love him. meanwhile, you'll be shifting in your seat next to him while his cum creates a stain on your jeans.

✧ ˖ ° pervy older boyfriend!simon who wants you to be with him basically 24/7 while he's not away on missions. you're his girlfriend, of course he wants to spend as much time as he can with you! never mind the fact that this man has probably been boxing away his libido for years. so while he's at his home, so will you be.

✧ ˖ ° you'll find that any clothes you bring over to your stays with simon don't really go missing as much as he blatantly makes them unwearable for you as long as you insist on still bringing them. why would you have any need for those when he has plenty for you? it's not like you'll be wearing clothes much anyway while he has you. it's a lesson you learn quickly to pack light, otherwise you'll be going home with scraps of fabric. simon doesn't not like your clothes (he thinks your style is adorable on you), but the way you smell like him with his hoodies and shirts, the way they're basically dresses on you serving to remind how much bigger he is than you, it drives him even crazier.

✧ ˖ ° because of how touch-starved (and horny) he is, simon prefers to always physically have you close to him. which means lots of cockwarming; he won't lie about how much he loves watching you try your very best not to squirm on his lap, not to lose yourself to how full you always feel with him inside you. whether you're watching a movie or he's working in his office or even just trying to sit down for a meal, simon will preemptively have you sinking down on his cock, chastising you about how eager you always are for him to just fuck you. it's nearly torture for him just the same as you, but the difference is that he has a lot more self-control than you do- just enough to give your thigh a stinging pinch every time you move a muscle.

✧ ˖ ° no matter how long he keeps you there, it'll always turn into simon pushing you against the nearest table or wall and fucking away the last few straggling thoughts in your head. he always waits until your breathing gets ragged and your nails are digging in hard. until you're panting against his neck from the effort it takes to not bounce yourself on his dick. until you're begging. "what? turned y'into that much of a whore that y'can't go five minutes without my cock? fine." he'll say it as if he's doing you a favor, as if he's going out of his way to satisfy the nymphomaniac that he himself has proudly created.