#life advice with doctor grey

[greyeyedmonster-18]

my fear of "what if i will never find love again?" turns into "what if i will lose myself forever?"

anon, idk if this is a song lyric or something

or if you are in my inbox actually expressing concern

but let me tell ya something— theres an interview with quinta brunson and oprah and oprah asks “whats one question everyone woman should ask?”

And quinta responds “do i like myself? when im alone, just me, do i like myself”

and i think that if you really and truly like and love yourself in that way, its impossible to lose yourself in someone else. i say this as someone who up until recently has spent most of their adult life single, and finally found someone who i truly believe i will spend the rest of my life with. and i…havent just disappeared into them. i havent lost myself in favor of being in love. when we go out on a date, I'll still order myself what i want to drink instead of sharing something he likes. i will go for a hike by myself, with my kiddo, even if he doesn't want to go. i will buy concert tickets and go out with my friends because those are things i love and like and part of me. you don't need to disappear, and i believe you won't if you like these parts of you. honestly and truly.

and i know its such like a thing that we see over and over again, person falls in love and one day they're unrecognizable from who they were before (and maybe sometimes that is okay, i think sometimes we change and shed old parts of ourselves that maybe weren't serving us!) but it doesn't have to be that way. and just like anything else--it takes a lot of work, patience, grace, to learn to like yourself and to learn what parts are necessary to hold onto <3

[hidden-poet]

Commander Snow: 10

Commander Snow

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

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

Editor: @hotline-to-hell

chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter three

Chapter four

Chapter five

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

chapter 9

Chapter 10

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Would you change too? You supposed you had. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Him calling you wife made your heart curdle. 

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

“There was no issue,” you insist. 

He doesn’t push you on it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

The women seemed unbothered to see you. 

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

“Good morning.” You offer back. 

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

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

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

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

“Yes,” you say instead, “Did you?” 

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

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

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

“No, I haven’t.” You agree. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Coriolanus smiles at Tigris under her praise. 

“And you?” he asks, turning to you. 

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

“Congratulations, President Snow.”  You offer. 

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

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

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

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

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

 His casual demeanor returns as Tigris’s attention does. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes?” He answers the call. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“All of it,” she sighs. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Five women stand above you and begin work. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Leave the room,” he commanded. 

Tools are dropped as they follow his request.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A gentle kiss is placed against your ear. 

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

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

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

“Leave me alone, Coriolanus,” you demanded. 

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

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

“Come in,” he orders. 

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

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

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

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

He steps over her and back to his room. 

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

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

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

“Well say less.” she rasped. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Coriolanus noticed anyway. 

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

“Yes, President Snow” the woman apologizes. 

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

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

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

They lead you to the bathroom with a dress bag. 

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

“Yes, President Snow,” she mocked. 

“Shut up,” the hair stylist barked. 

The dress was pulled from the bag without a wrinkle. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You look beautiful,” he comments. 

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

“Thank you,” you reply. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And you, Mistress.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You stood until the head of staff pushed you forward. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Coriolanus stands from the desk in front of the reporters. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you think?” He asks. 

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

“I never have,” he admits. 

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

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

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

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

Coriolanus picks up a small decorative statue and examines it. 

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

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

“Shall we see upstairs?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But time passes with no appearance.

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

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

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

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

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

But something about it captivates Coriolanus. 

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

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

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

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

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

“I am sorry that happened to you.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Saved me?” You questioned. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—------------------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—----------------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

In hope you take another one. 

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

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

It appeared the same as the other.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—--------

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

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

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

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

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

“Kicking, is he?” Coriolanus asks. 

“Yeah. Something like that,” you state. 

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

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

“Are you alright?” He asks with concern. 

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

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

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

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

You feel Coriolanus place a hand on your back. 

“I’ll call for the doctor,” he says. 

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

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

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

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

“To the bed,” he demands, “Come on.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, No.” Coriolanus consoles. 

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

“Mrs. Snow, push.” The doctor bids. 

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

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

“Push,” Coriolanus tells you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Still, you scream for her to save you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mum!” you shout, “Archie!” 

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

You watch as Coriolanus holds tight to the small blanket. 

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

—-----------

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

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

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

With newfound motivation you will yourself to get your bearings. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is he healthy?” You ask. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, you should,” he finally spoke.

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

“Here, do you want to hold him?” 

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

He fits perfectly and doesn’t wake.

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

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

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

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

“Did I?” you fawn. 

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

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

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

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

“I love you too, Coriolanus.”

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

—--------------

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

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

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

“Yes,” you agree. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“They are my family,” you spat. 

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

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

“Lay back down,” he demands. 

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

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

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

“I don’t care!” You yell. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No,” you whisper. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.”

“Who do you consider family then?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—-----------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Keep going,” you encourage. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You thank them although you wanted none of their assistance. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your lips were warm on him and worked so well. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—-------------------- 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He arrived home to chaos he could not settle. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Because you’re my wife. That’s why.”

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

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

You would remain civil but not overly friendly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Coriolanus, not here,” you beg. 

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

“I want another baby,” he requests. 

“Not here. Someone could find us.” 

“Not if you are quiet.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I think you could,” he states. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your children are asleep when you arrive home. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Let's get ice cream,” he bribes. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The small spoon in your hand drops to the floor as memories that you had buried spring up. The stalking, the harassment, the loss of freedom. You remember the late nights as your mother cried out from pain from the flogging that he ordered. 

“Mummy used to own a cake shop, and Daddy would go by every morning before University to buy one.” Coriolanus answered for you. He reaches out and brushes Crassus' hair lovingly. 

“Dad, you can’t have cake for breakfast!” Aurora exclaimed. 

“Oh, but I did! Your mother would make them special for me.” 

You close your eyes remembering the words, ‘Can you make me some more of those oat bars.’ A demand, not a gesture on your behalf. You remember the hard wall behind you as he pressed you there. Just the thought of it brought your heart back into your throat as if it was happening all over again.

“She doesn’t let me have cake for breakfast!” Aurora complained. Tears sprang to her eyes causing Crassus to push a lollypop you had given him for eating his dinner across the table, trying to fight off his sister's tears. 

Coriolanus picks her up from the floor and places her on his knee so she can cry into his arms. 

“Darling, these are special cakes. Ones you give to someone you want to marry.” 

You remember the cakes you used to make Edmund. Edmund, you hadn’t thought about him in years, yet the scar on your heart never healed. 

“Not growing little girls.” Still, your daughter cried, which displeased Coriolanus. 

He rises from the table with Aurora in his arms and heads into the fridge. 

“Let's see if Mum baked any for you”. 

Your youngest son begins to cry from hunger which snaps you out of your spiraling. With your daughter receiving a cupcake and your son resuming feeding, the room is calm once more. But your hand shook as your mind flooded with memories of Commander Snow. 

Moments later, Crassus presented you with a picture of two stick figures surrounded by out-of-proportion cupcakes. You stared at it with the weight of your baby resting on your hip. 

Just like that Coriolanus had rewritten history. Commander Snow was a distant dream. District 12 a vague thought. Lucy Gray no longer haunted the woods. No longer made Coriolanus Snow the victor of the 10th Hunger Games. The war scar had faded. He had fixed history’s mistakes. 

He had taken his rightful place as President of Pamen. Only you were left to remember him as Commander Snow. 

The end!

Thank you all for reading, and coming along for the journey. Especially to those who commented and motivated me to write. This story would not have been complete without you.

A HUGE thank you to @hotline-to-hell for editing the work, and restructuring the mess.

And a HUGE thank you to @thaleleah and (who i assume is the same) anon who took the time out to encourage me with their long, and hilarious feedback.

Hope to see you all in my other works!

taglist:

@sarahskakskskskajakwwnwjw

@mrsjobarnes

@greekyoghurtwithberries

@namelesslosers

@urfavnoirette

 @aleemendoza2425-blog

@hiatuswhore

@jacesvelaryons

@swimmjacket

@brooks-lin

@dawnissunnysideup

@astarborntowrite

@someonefromwutheringheights

@purriteen

@homopheli

@devils-blackrose

@poppyflower-22

@bruher

@dawnissunnysideup

@winter-bearv 

@tempt-ress

@serinatly100986

@becauseseaotters

@aleemendoza2425-blog

@inloveallthetime

@hufflepuffxsworld

@chennyetomlinson

@slumnit

@saharadesertaj

@missbeeentertainment

[alligator-tearzz]

R.I.P Van Der Linde Gang 💔 You would have loved:

(seen a few ppl do this,, if you started this definitely lmk and I’ll credit u !!)

updated to add Kieran and Sean

Dutch - Self help books, those podcasts where people give you terribly incorrect health information and claim that they’re doctors

Uncle - The massage chairs in malls, Frank Gallagher, insane reddit stories that definitely never happened, scamming disability cheques from the government

Abigail - iPhone’s share your location feature, the Parent Teacher Association, audiobooks

Arthur - Remote control racing cars (aarwh it’s a toy boat!), the catch and cook youtube videos, Cowboy Carter by Beyoncé, free healthcare mayhaps…..

John - Maury, The sassy man apocalypse on TikTok, Sitting and watching Bluey in a trance with Abigail after Jack has already gone to bed

Miss Grimshaw - Supernanny, Judge Judy, Spas, Massages, Bear Grylls probably, Bed Bath and Beyond

Sadie - Streetwear, absolutely bodying men on FPS games, Rage rooms

Charles - Axe throwing to get the frustration out, wildlife protection acts, David Attenborough, ATLA

Javier - The head massage you get when you get your hair washed at the salon, edibles, Guitar Hero, collecting vinyls

Hosea - Game shows like The Chase and Deal or No Deal, Dolly Parton probably, cruises, community libraries where you take a book and leave a book behind

Strauss - Cryptocurrency, whatsapp scams

Mary-Beth - Wattpad, Ao3, Booktok, you name it. Those fanfic movie adaptations like After, 50 shades of Grey etc, Cottagecore aesthetic, Taylor Swift, TikTok edits, Bridgerton

Tilly - Those ‘Day in the Life of’ Tiktoks, Jazz bars, Chloe x Halle, cruises as well

Karen - How To Get Away With Murder, Bottomless brunch, Reality shows with a bunch of drama like Love Island or Married at First Sight, Ru Paul’s Drag Race

Bill - Mardi Gras, Brokeback Mountain 😋, Home Depot, probably, those giant American cars that are on the verge of being trucks, Call of Duty

Pearson - Those late night infomercials that show random kitchen utensils like a garlic mincer or a nutribullet blender, Reddit, Spending money on E-Harmony, standing in the club and staring awkwardly at a woman, Dungeons and Dragons

Lenny - Online self paced university, Jordan Peele movies, Studio Ghibli movies, Noise cancelling headphones, The Last of Us

Kieran - Animal crossing, Saddle Club, the Wikihow “how to talk to girls” page, taking horrible advice from tik tok just because the person who posted it sounded trustworthy, astrology probably

Sean - Getting drunk at local football games and heckling the other team, claiming he’s not into Karen’s reality shows but then standing there watching the whole episode with his arms crossed while asking her about every single person and their drama, would most definitely be famous for yapping on Twitter, Derry Girls would be his fave show

[discordantwritings]

Distractions (Benn Beckman x Reader)

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, gn afab! Reader, minor talks of cuts and blood, Benn has a hair pulling kink you can’t convince me otherwise, PiV sex

WC: 3.5k

Summary: As the doctor for the Red Haired Pirates you know there’s only so much you can do to curb their bad habits. But maybe you can help your favorite patient, Benn Beckman, kick his smoking habit with a bit of distraction.

Notes: for the lovely @fanaticsnail who is correct, Benn needs more love

“You already know what I’m going to say.” You tap your pencil on your clipboard, looking up at the grey haired man on your examination table.

“Doc, don’t start this again.” Benn’s tone is only slightly annoyed as he looks back at you.

“All that smoking is going to kill you.”

As a doctor on a pirate ship your life was all uphill battles that you were not going to win. Telling pirates to be less risky, drink less, and as is the case with this particular first mate to smoke less- all of these were battles you know you were not going to win. But it sure doesn’t stop you from trying, determined to be the annoying thorn in their side to at least make them stop and think before doing something stupid.

“Being a pirate is going to kill me, not the smoking.” Despite his tone a smirk sits on his face, he’s familiar with this song and dance you two engage in at the end of every regular check-up.

“I’m just trying to make sure you die of plain old age, alright? You know I expect the most from you Beckman, you’re the only responsible one around here.” You swivel around in your chair, placing your clipboard on your desk before standing.

“I think you’re wrong there.” Benn stands up as well reaching into his pocket to pull out his carton of cigarettes.

“Don’t you dare- not in my office!” You playfully hit him on the arm and he laughs.

“See- you’re the responsible one.” He twirls the carton in his hand, movements you’ve seen him use to spin his guns.

You roll your eyes but you can’t muster up any actual annoyance. “Maybe I am. But you’re a close second.”

Benn moves towards the door out of your office but hovers before he opens it. After a few seconds he turns back to you.

“But if I wanted to cut down- not quit mind you- just curb it. What would you suggest I do?” It takes all your professionalism not to grin from ear to ear that you had finally broken him down.

“Well, since we don’t have any nicotine substitutes one of your best bets is developing new habits.”

“You’ll have to explain a little more for me Doc.”

“Well, smoking is a whole ritual, right? You have to cut out the ritual around it and the best way to do that is to from some new rituals and habits. It’ll be good to think about some good distractions for when you feel cravings.” You explain, happy to see that he is actually listening to you.

“That does all make sense.” He shoves the carton of cigarettes back into his pocket. “I’ll try out your advice, but no promises, okay?”

“Just you trying means a lot to me.” You say honestly.

“Alright, alright. See you later Doc.” He waves and leaves you to take your next patient.

It’s only two days before Benn is back in your office, hovering in your doorway right after sunset. When you really look at him you sigh. A rag is wrapped around his hand and red is seeping through the white fabric near his palm. He gives you an apologetic smile.

“Sorry for coming in right as you should be getting off for the day but-“ You are already right in front of him, delicately unwrapping the rag to assess the damage.

“Beckman what happened?” You tilt his hand to look at the deep gasp across his palm.

“Well, really it’s your fault.” He says as you guide him to sit before grabbing your supplies.

“My fault? Really?” Laying out your salves and antiseptics you shoot him a curiously look.

“I was trying to distract myself by sharpening up my daggers and, well…” He trails off but you can put two and two together.

“You’re not normally on the list of people I have to tell not to use weapons while they are of not sound mind.” Carefully you clean the wound, impressed with the way he doesn’t flinch as you do so.

“I didn’t think I was that out of it.”

“It’s your first day of cutting back.” You sigh as you get a clear view of the wound. “You’re really lucky this wasn’t any deeper. You still need stitches though.”

“Whatever you say Doc.”

Despite today’s events he was your best patient, never saying no when you tell him something needs attention. You thread up your needle and begin your work.

“Well, I guess pain is a distraction.” He jokes and if you were to look up you’d bet good money he was smirking.

“Don’t make this a habit Beckman. I can refuse to help you.”

“You would never. You’re too nice for your own good doll.” You have to bite the inside of your cheek to try and tamper your reaction to the pet name. It’s not often he uses them for you, almost always referring to you as “doc” or “doctor” but when he does it always makes your heart lurch into your throat.

It’s stupid, you know, having a crush on a pirate. Having a crush on someone you work with. But when he’s so kind and thoughtful and helpful and so damn handsome… well who could blame you?

“You really should let me teach you how to shoot one of these days.” He says after a few more moments of silence.

“You know my answer.”

“You really should know how to protect yourself.” There’s serious concern laced in his voice.

“I’m a doctor, I took an oath to do no harm.” You explain to him, like you have many times before.

“And you’re the only doctor working on a pirate ship who takes that oath seriously.”

You pull the last stitch tight before looking up at him. “I know but, the thing is I’ve never felt the need to protect myself on this ship. Sure I’ve felt in danger due to the sea but from other pirates?” You shrug. “I’ve never had any doubts you’d be there to protect me.”

There’s a few beats before you’ve realized what you’ve said.

“And Shanks and all the other crew.” You quickly add, darting your gaze away as you grab a bandage. He chuckles and you hope to whatever gods are out there you aren’t completely flushed.

“Well, can’t say I don’t like that answer.” He keeps his hand open as you wrap the bandage securely around his hand, wrapping it around a few more times for security.

“Now do your best to not break your stitches, alright?” You finally look up at him, matching his gaze.

“I’ll do my best.” He promises and you believe him. “But I’ll probably need a different distraction.”

“Yes you will.” You laugh. “Look I know it might be boring but I do need help sorting through the supplies I picked up last week when we were docked.”

“Oh, I see how it is.” His serious tone has you concerned for a second but you see that sly grin. “You’re just using me to do your dirty work.”

You gasp, mock offended. “You really think that low of me?”

“I would never think low of you. In fact, making me do your grunt work is very smart.”

“You really don’t have to.”

“No, seriously you do so much to help us all it’s only fair I help you.” His uninjured hand covers yours it’s in that moment you realize you never let go of his hand after bandaging it up. You freeze and feel your skin heating up somehow more than it already was.

“That’s- I mean- it’s my job you don’t owe me anything.” You don’t meet his gaze directly but don’t move your hand away either.

“It’s your job to help us if we get sick or injured in battle. It’s not your job to help us every time we get drunk and accidentally shoot or stab each other.”

“Very good point.”

He pats your hand before pulling both of his away and standing up. “Again, you’re too good. But I’ll be around tomorrow, alright doll?”

There was that damn pet name again and you fought the urge to melt into the floor. “Thank you Beckman.”

“Thank you Doc.”

It’s embarrassing how you count down the hours until he’s at your door again, knocking on the open door with his good hand. You’re already in the thick of organization, crates of bandages, medicines, and other supplies strewn about your office.

“Oh! Hi Beckman! C’mon in.” You stand up and begin gesturing around. “It’s a bit cluttered but trust me there’s a method to the madness.”

You go through and explain what needs to be done and Benn listens carefully, asking questions when he has them. The second you’re done he gets to work, following your orders perfectly. Well, that’s one of the many reasons why he’s an amazing first mate you suppose.

The two of you work together and have casual conversation for a few hours and the time flies by in his company. Before you know it you’re almost done and working side by side with Benn on the last few things.

“Did you redo your bandage today?” You ask as you get a good look at his hand.

“And miss the chance to have your capable hands do it?” He smiles as he hands you the final box of gauze you need to put away.

“Or I think you just forgot.”

“Maybe.” He admits and you get up to get fresh bandages.

“You’re lucky you already helped me with all this work or I might’ve handed you the bandages and sent you on your way.” You hop up on the exam table you had been using to sort supplies and take his hand, carefully unwrapping yesterday’s bandage.

“Didn’t we go over this yesterday sweetheart?” His smooth tone has your heart hammering in your chest.

Sweetheart. That was a new one.

“Yeah, yeah.” You try to play it off but you know you’re flushed. You busy yourself with replacing the bandage. “Anyways, how are you feeling? Did this help?”

“Hm? Oh the distraction thing.” He thinks it over a second, watching you bandage his wound. “Mostly.”

“Mostly? Still feeling the cravings?” You finish your work but selfishly still hold his hand in yours.

“Yeah. I mean working with you did the trick, don’t get me wrong but now that I think about leaving and going back out on deck…” He shrugs. “But I guess that’s just how it’ll go for a while.”

“It will. But I’m not kicking you out, you can stay here as long as you like.” You secretly hope he sticks around, his presence made your work faster and your heart lighter.

“You’re offering to keep distracting me?” There’s a tilt to his voice that makes your heart hammer in your chest.

“Ah- I mean-“ You kick yourself internally for being so easy to fluster. “If that helps.”

Benn chuckles. “Now you’re not thinking anything dirty are you?”

Well- none of those thoughts were at the forefront of your mind before that but now? You’re acutely aware of the fact the hand you’re holding is so close to your lap and how close his chest is to your knees.

“No?” Your attempt to lie was uniquely pathetic but it earns you another laugh.

“And if I was thinking something dirty, you wouldn’t think less of me would you doll?” He slowly stands up as he speaks, tall frame hovering over you.

“I would never.” Your voice comes out as a whisper as you stare up at him.

“You’re too good to me sweetheart.” The hand not in your lap is used to hold himself as he leans further over you, face closing in on yours. “But I gotta know this isn’t just a treatment plan.”

“No- Beckman-“

“Benn.” He corrects softly.

“Benn.” You repeat. “I want this. I want you.”

That’s all he needs before he closes the gap and kisses you. His lips are chapped but his kiss is soft and the hand in your lap moves to intertwine his finger with yours. His kisses you until you’re breathless, having to pull away to gasp for air. As you do he moves to your neck, pressing delicate kisses along the sensitive skin. Your free hand comes up and tangles in his long grey hair, anchoring yourself.

“Can I-“ You moan as he mouths against the curve of your jaw. “Confess something.”

“Anything.” He stops to look into your eyes.

“You look really hot when you smoke.”

There’s a pause where he process what you says before bursting into laughter, and you can’t help but follow suit.

“So that’s why you didn’t make me go cold turkey?” You feel his smile against your neck.

“I can be a little selfish.” His body is still a little too far away so you push your hips forward, able to just meet his. Benn groans against your neck as you feel his clothed length press against you.

“Doc, be as selfish as you want.” He adjusts his stance so he no longer has to lean on his hand and uses the now free arm to pull you flush with him. You automatically wrap your legs around his hips, moaning at the friction.

“Then can I selfishly ask for you to take your shirt off?”

“Of course.” He places one more quick kiss on your lips before pulling away and taking off his shirt. You can’t help but admire his frame- broad shoulders filtering down into a narrow waist.

“Don’t go giving me an ego now sweetheart, I’ll be as bad as our captain.” His fingers play at the hem of your shirt before pushing under, calloused finger tips splaying over your stomach.

“You could never.” You press up against his touch, needy. “C’mon Benn.”

His hands slide up and push your shirt up over your head and the second the fabric is past your face he’s kissing you again, deeper than before. Your legs grip tighter around his waist, chasing any friction you can get. His hands now push against the waistband of your pants and he breaks the kiss to whisper in your ear.

“Let up a second doll.” You obey without a second thought, unhooking your legs so he can yank your pants and underwear off, stepping away so he can fully snuck them off your legs.

Long fingers hold your thighs open as he hovers back for a second, getting a good look at your soaked core. Embarrassed you go to shut your legs but you’re not match for Benn’s strength.

“Don’t hide yourself from me.” He finally moves back in, slotting his hips against yours as you wrap your arms around the back of his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. There’s a hunger to his kisses now as you press your hips up and grind against him, moaning into his mouth.

You feel those long fingers dip down between your bodies and you let up on your grinding, inviting him in. Two fingers press into you and you break away from his kiss to throw you head back in a moan. His mouth moves to your neck as his fingers take you apart, curling in while his thumb gives you the pressure you need on your clit.

“Fuck- Benn-“ You hand comes up to grip in his hair and as he hits that spot inside you you pull on his hair.

His fingers falter for a second as he groans into your neck and you smile knowingly. “You like that?”

“Don’t tease me doll.” He redoubles his efforts, a third finger sliding in that makes you see stars.

You can only hold onto him while he takes you apart with just one hand, your moans filling the air as you get closer and closer to your peak. You slap his shoulder as you feel yourself on that edge, warning him.

“Hm? Don’t worry I can feel how close you are sweetheart, it’s alright I want you to cum all over my fingers. Can you do that for me?” His low voice is right in your ear and is all you need to be pushed right over the edge.

“It’s alright, that’s it.” Benn speaks to you softly as he slowly pulls his fingers out and you whine at the loss.

You watch as his holds his fingers up and you can see them covered in your slick. You’re about to be embarrassed and turn your gaze away but then his tongue darts out and licks and sucks away all of your cum. It’s hypnotizing the way he actually relishes in your taste and you feel a whole new wave of need wash over you.

“Benn- I need you in me now.” You pull his hair tight and he chuckles.

“Who am I to say no?” His hands quickly work at his pants, pulling them down just enough to release his cock, springing up to lay at your folds.

You can’t see his dick from this angle but you can feel it- long and veiny as Benn grinds between your folds. You moan as he ruts up against your clit but you’ve had enough teasing.

“Inside- please Benn.” You whine and he presses a surprisingly soft kiss to your cheek.

He guides his tip to your entrance and he easily slides in after all the work he did moments before. The two of you groan in unison as he slowly pushes in, careful not to hurt you. He stills when he’s full sheathed in you, his head resting on your shoulders as he pants.

“Sorry- fuck doll you just feel so good- need a second.” You feel him throbbing inside you and you run your hands through his hair gently, giving him the time.

“Take your time baby. Love feeling so full.” He seems to reach and fill every last inch of you and you soak up the feeling as he gathers himself.

“Gonna start moving.” He warns you just before he slowly moves out, the drag making your toes curl.

He’s slow and steady and you can feel every inch of him moving in and out of you. One of his hands is holding him steady against the table while the other is on your hip, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into the skin there.

“You feel so good sweetheart- so warm and tight around me- knew you’d feel good doll.” He whispers loving praises into your ear as he thrusts and you grip the base of his ponytail to anchor yourself.

It’s not long before his pace picks up and you lock your legs around his waist as his thrusts get rougher and deeper. Your moans and the sound of his hips meeting yours fill your office, the lewdness of it all making your head spin.

“Fuck- I can feel you gripping me doll- you close? Keep- fuck- keep sounding like that I’m not gonna last long.” The hand on your hip moves and one of those damn fingers finds your clit again. You yank on his hair and grin at the way his pace stutters when you do so. “Just like that doll- please-“

You can’t deny him- not when he’s making you feel this good. You pull on his hair as your other hand grips onto his shoulder for dear life. Praise spills out of Benn’s mouth as he thrusts into you and works your clit and there’s nothing you can do but take what you’re being given. It’s not long before you feel your orgasm building up, vision blurring at the edges as you throw your head back.

“You’re almost there aren’t you sweetheart? Need to feel you cum around me- fuck- please doll.” He sounds so needy and at his demanding you’re pushed over the edge again, cumming around his cock.

“Shit-“ Benn spits out as he quickly pulls out of you and right as he does so you feel his warm cum splatter onto your hips and stomach.

The two of you catch your breath, still holding each other closely as you both figure out how to speak full sentences again. Benn’s the first to regain functions, pressing a kiss to your forehead before untangling himself from you. He walks away but you see him go over to your sink and wet a wash cloth, coming back over and cleaning you up. You hum in appreciation, kissing whatever skin of his you have access to as he works.

“So Doc, if I ever need a distraction…” His hands hold your hips as he looks down at you with a smile.

“Then you can come find me.” There’s a slight pause before you add on- “Preferably in a bed next time.”

The two of you laugh and you’ve never been so happy with a course of treatment.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

"You could have warned me!" With Harvey? 💛

Finally trying my hand at writing the doc <3

......

"There are monsters in the volcano that spit fire??? You could have warned me! Had I know you were going to venture there I-!"

"Harvey, honey, it wasn't that bad-"

"Then what's this second degree burn I am treating, hm?" The doctor simply gave you a semi-scolding look as he bandaged your bicep. You got a nasty burn from a mischievous Lava Lurker who caught you by surprise while exploring the volcano dungeon on Ginger Island.

You thought you deflected all of the beast's fireballs, but alas one managed to slip by your defenses and nearly scorch your skin off.

At the time it didn't hurt, although of course when your boyfriend asked if you were okay after leaving the dungeon....it began hurting like a bitch, and he had you rushed back to town to get it fully examined.

It made you feel a little bad, knowing Harvey just wanted to spend a relaxing day at the resort--even though you had to remind him that his worry over people stepping on glass or not applying sunscreen defeated the whole purpose of his "vacation."

You helped ground him, but at the same time became the reason he was gonna get a few extra grey hairs pretty soon. He learned you went to the volcano and found not only Slimes...but more monsters like flying fireballs, living mushrooms, and other creepy creatures.

He doesn't know how you could face any of them. He surely couldn't and wouldn't.

This was the first time you've come to his clinic with burns this severe.

"First the mines, then the skull caverns..and now this?" Harvey shuddered, overlooking your other injuries with profound worry. "And here I was..worried that you'd be coming out with heatstroke. What's in that volcano anyways?"

"A forge to enchant my weapons." You answered, gesturing to your weapon propped against the wall. "The dwarf living there told me all about it. I had to get past all ten floors to access the gate, slay some magma creatures for the guild, use my watering can to make bridges across the lava...oh, and I found a dragon tooth made of iridium among...."

"......"

"Harvey, I know that look..." Sighing, you brushed a hand over the bandages he placed on you, before gazing back at him. "I promise I don't let monsters go after me on purpose."

"[Y/n]. I just...I want you to be safe out there." He wringed his hands together, feeling his heart pounding in his chest. "All these injuries will add up...and they will take a toll on your body. And if it happens when you're in a bad place where I can't help you, then I...I-I just....I don't know what I'll-"

"Harvey."

You rested a hand on his knee, causing your poor boyfriend to jolt out of his ramblings in fright, seeing his wide-eyed stare and hints of tears gathering behind his glasses.

It made you feel all the more guilty for stressing him out this much. You honestly don't mean to.

"I know my limits better now thanks to you, and I always pack life elixirs before going into any monster-infested cave." You gave him a reassuring smile, taking his hands into yours. "I won't let anything bad happen to me, okay?"

"...okay, as long as you're keeping your word, I..I trust you." Harvey shakily returned the smile, his ahoulders relaxing. He was glad you were taking his advice.

Of course, he couldn't convince you to abandon spelunking and monster hunting altogether. He'd feel terrible for even suggesting that when it's been such a strong passion of yours since moving into the valley.

He only hopes that whatever you do in that scary dungeon, you carry it out with extreme caution.

Yoba only knows how devastated he'd be if you winded up in the emergency room again..in worse shape than last time.

[icarusredwings]

Various head canons for my Saxteen/ Temple Noble household series.

As the board of headcanons, I declare these headcanons as offical.

Shout outs for the ideas or just being OGs:

@roxannepolice

@kidshows-are-life

@strobbiery

@the--quotifyer--innit

@huntersroses

Now- Onto the headcanons!

-Sylvia still gets nervous when the Doctor does weird shit and will often tell him off for it (which often backfires)

"why cant you be like that one? Sit quietly and stop catching the kitchen on fire!"

".....Him? You mean... The master?? You know he eats people right?"

".... Dont be like him then. I take it back."

-They take bubble baths together quite often

-Rosie has given Sax advice on which brands of make up to buy (vegan or cruelty free)

-Sometimes Wilf and Shaun witness a weekly ritual of donna, rosie, and two old gays doing face masks, nails, and other 'sleep over' things in the kitchen. They call it Gals night.

-When Shaun questions it even in the slightest, 14 responds with "Were all girls here."

"Even him?" *points to sax whos passed out cold with cucumbers on his eyes* "well not yet. But yes."

"Not yet??"

"Alien stuff hon. Alien stuff."

"Regenerative alien stuff to be exact!"

-Shaun was actually very excited when Rose came out because he had always wanted to be a girl dad. Sometimes, he asks her paint his nails and wishes that she was young enough to have tea parties with.

-This being mentioned leads to everyone in the house participating in the South France House Annual Tea Party (14 even gave out offical invitations) Everyone gets a boa and a crown. Saxons crown is not cheap plastic, though. It is real. He demanded it to be. Even wilf has on a pink boa in his wheel chair.

-The evening is filled with tiny sandwitches, tea of all kinds, donna talking about Agatha Christie, the time she almost got murdered by a massive bug, and 14 dosing his husband with catmint tea (which makes him very purry)

-Rosie sleeps with a bonnet. So does saxon. He thinks itll stop him from balding.

-When walking to the store, They hold each other. Depending on the day, it's the Master on the Doctors arm or vise versa. Sometimes, they'll hold pinkies. The Master HAS bitten someone for negativaly commenting about it

-The Doctor falls asleep on the loo sometimes

-Shaun is so madly in love with the new Donna and will sit and stare at her while asking math questions in utter awe. Hes OBSESSED with her, of course he loved her before but now its like meeting a newer, BRIGHTER, happier Donna and he constantly is taking her on dates, getting flustard, and is more handsy. This overall has improved their marriage (not that it was in any danger to begin with)

-When the two are being flirty and frisky in the kitchen, Rose will audibly say "GAG" and then walk away

-Wilfred is very happy to see his grand daughter shine, and you can find him repeating his favorite stories from when she was just a girl. It's part of his Alzheimer's.

-Wilfred sometimes forgets that the Doctor isn't actually his real son and will refer to him as his child when talking to people, and depending on who the person is, the doctor won't correct him.

-The Doctor is trying to grow his hair out to put them in braids. Unfortunately, he gets sneezy rosemary oil, so he uses a lot of castor oil and rose oils. (The Master thinks he stinks when he does this)

-The master suggests dying his greys but the Doctor refuses, wanting to be a "Silver fox"

-The master, to this day, uses the exact same box dye that he did all those years ago. His hair is fried, LMAO

-Rosie has made the master a stuffy called Shadow. Sylvia once got bitten for washing shadow, and the master sat at the door and watched her get washed the entire time, growling at donna, who in turn had learned to growl back.

-The Doctor proposed on Christmas and the master slapped him. They then proceeded to get married NEXT Christmas due to saxon demanding a custom traditional outfit to be made.

-Both have gained relationship weight, and Donna is the only one allowed to poke fun at them for it. "Not a pole anymore, I see, hmm?" She does not comment on saxons new small streach marks as that is blantantly rude. Wtf? Who does that? Not in this house.

-They take up the entire couch for naps. The doctor has told him multiple times that he likes his weight on top of him. "You're like a warm weighted blanket." And was then smothered with a pillow because saxon is insecure about it still.

-When meeting new people the Doctor keeps slipping that hes an alien. Hes said he wants the neighbors in France to not know hes an alien because hes curious about how people treat him differently compared to if they know or not.

The neighbors wanted help moving their sofa so the Doctor picked it up... the whole thing... by himself.

"Wow!! Its like you have super human strength!!"

"Aha- well... about that.. not human-"

"What?"

"Shit- honey I did it again!"

[the-empress-7]

Is there any way to reverse grey hair?

Empress, I’m the Indian anon (wine lover like you). We women in South India consume Curry leaves from the curry leaf plant everyday in every dish. It’s impossible to have dish without these leaves. And if you google ‘south indian hairstyles’, you will see us with thick, luxurious hair! 

You can get these curry leaves in the form of powder in Amazon. Due to the stressful circumstances in my life, I developped white hair in my thirties. I’ve restarted eating them & slowly I can see my genetic hair colour growing back!

I’d like to share a recipe that I use. You can buy this powder from amazon. I warm equal quantities of flax seeds, pumkin seeds& hemp seeds in a pan (to remove humidity) & grind it in a coffee grinder. Mix this with the curry leaf powder & a pinch of salt. Take 2 teaspoons everyday in your curd or porridge or soup or just sprinkle on your sandwich. Results are seen over a two month period. (Those with allergies, please consult a doctor first!)

(DISCLAIMER): I’m not a doctor! This is my personnal concotion! Apart from the curry leaves, I’ve taken advice from You tubers. Curry leaves contain Folic acid which helps to boost developement of RBC &WBC, also helps increase good gut bacteria.

Also, once a week, massage your scalp with coconut oil 10 minutes before washing your hair. Indian women apply coconut oil everyday but it is to help bear the intense tropical heat as it is very cooling.

====

Thank you so much! What a great testimony and so glad this works for you.

I am on Nutrafol right now and that shit is expensive AF.

[arabriddler]

Hey hey hey I wanna hear the Jon lore please

finally posting this for Jon’s birthday 👀

Okay! Backstory time! Tw for evil doctor things and a bit of traumatic religious experience ( nothing happens though for the latter it’s just threats ) Jon grew up in Columbia with his parents. When he was born, he didn’t cry and the doctors worried that he was dead at first before realizing he’s alive and breathing. His parents didn’t think much of it and loved him. As Jonathan grew up his issues appeared more permanent. He cried out of frustration sometimes but overall it began to look clear that he barely felt any fear. Jon’s parents, again, didn’t think much of it. He’s healthy and lovely and what if he doesn’t scare easily? It’s not that big of a problem. except the neighbors were concerned and kept offering advice or creating gossip. The most popular rumor was that it’s the doing of some demon or something, and to control the rumors since the kids wouldn’t play with Jon, his parents took him to the local church. the priest was a nice old man, but he reacted very widely to Jon and called him the spawn of Satan. He began listing ways to exorcise the evil out of his body, but as he did so, suddenly, a visiting doctor from abroad barged in claiming he knows what the problem is. the doctor introduced himself as Doctor Hugo Strange. He explained that he’s very passionate about rare diseases and disorders and Jon’s problem was rare. He offered help and asked them to come with him to Gotham. At first, the parents refused, they don’t really mind Jon’s problem, but somehow the neighborhood grew more aggressive and more alienating. Jon would be bruised all over ( unbeknownst to them, this was all carefully crafted by strange ). Eventually they agreed. Who knows maybe they can start a new life in Gotham. It seems like people are more opened up over there.

except, on the train and a long way from home, Strange explained that so he can study Jonathan’s alignment, he needs to have the boy with him for long periods of time and in isolation, often for months or years. Jon’s parents refused bedside that’s absurd, and strange, deeply frustrated, killed them. In the mix up, Jon witnessed the murder but was too traumatized to realize it was Strange. He tried to run away, he managed to escape strange but was found by the local police who admitted him to an orphanage not really putting an effort into finding his parent’s murderer. Jon took time to adjust to the new setting and deal with his parents murder. It was all very stressful he started finding some grey hairs on his head at the tender age of 8.

After three years, Hugo Strange visited. He proclaimed that he needs a student and chose Jon. So, for 5 years, he’d come to pick up Jon for a day or a week or sometimes months, there he’d study him or try to scare him or use medicines to affect Jon. None of this worked, but Jon’s psyche got worse and worse. He’d beg the sisters in the orphanage to not let the man take him, but Strange paid them well and they needed to provide for the other kids. In one of strange’s experiments, he towered over Jon in a way that triggered his memories and he remembered that Strange was the one who killed his parents. Strange was about to inject him with something but Jon tackled him and injected the serum into Strange. Strange began screaming and crying and Jon found that… interesting. It was life changing to see such pure fear and knowing he caused it.

afterwards, Jon left Strange and returned to the orphanage. He took all the kids out on a picnic while the orphanage and the staff burned up in a mysterious fire. Eventually, the cops showed up to deal with the mess. Strange was convicted of the arson, and the kids were relocated to another orphanage.

[liiilyevans]

Next Gen Girls

Victoire

The big sister of the group

Always there to lend an ear and is the first to defend her girls when the need arises

Tries really hard not to let her cousins see her cracks (she's a lot like her dad in that way)

She teaches her little cousins (Lucy, Roxanne, and Lily) some French when they're around eight

They all end up on the floor laughing with tears in their eyes because the girls can't roll their r's well and it makes for some interesting pronunciations

She never misses a family dinner at her Grandma Molly's house

If she is not there, something is wrong

Has broken up a physical fight between her cousins before and will do it again

She is close with all the girls and doesn't really have one in particular who she's closer to

She always carves out time to talk to each of the girls and bond with them

No one dislikes Vic

They might hate her bluntness or have disagreements with her, but she does not keep receipts and all her cousins appreciate that about her

Dominique

Can you say wild child?

She's the reason Bill and Fleur have grey hairs for sure

She's two years younger than Vic and they are like night and day

Dom is the life of the party and also the family's budtender though most of the parents are unaware of this

She's very chill and loves hanging out with her cousins and gossiping

This has gotten her into trouble before

Once Rose walked in on Dom talking about her latest hook up and Rose ended up not speaking to her for over two months

She is really close with Molly

These girls are twin flames, both wild to the core

They go backpacking across Europe together after they graduate Hogwarts

Dom decides to get a tattoo while she's high and it ends up getting infected

Molly takes her to a Muggle doctor and the girls end up giggling over how cute he is

Molly

Molly is the same age as Dom, but she was born first

She is supper smart but never flashes it around

Organizes monthly girl's nights for all her cousins

Not all of them end up coming and that's ok, but they know the door is always open if they want to

If they do end up coming, she makes a bunch of 'junk food' like chips and chocolate chip cookies from scratch

She takes after her grandmother when it comes to cooking and the other girls love her for it

If Dom is the budtender, Molly is the bartender

She used to work at a bar and can do all sorts of fancy tricks when pouring shots or making drinks

One night when the girls are all together, she makes a mixed drink for each of her cousins and one for her sister and names them after each of them

Rose

The definition of the cool one

She's always off on some adventure or taking some cool vacation

She is six years younger than Vic, but they're still very close

She goes to Vic whenever she needs advice on anything from love to life to her career

The younger girls adore her and think she's the best thing since baked bread

She caught them doing weed (which they stole from Dom) once at the Burrow in the twins' old room and didn't tell the adults

Instead she grabbed them water, helped them add a little concealer so they didn't look so high, and reminded them that getting high with their parents downstairs was definitely not the best idea

Then she winked and was gone

Everyone is always shocked that Ron and Hermione produced such a chill kid

She's Healer so anytime that one of the girls end up with the slightest headache they call Rose

She pretends to be annoyed but she really loves it

Lucy

She's the quiet one

Not in the shy way but in the if you interrupt me again, I'll cut your head off way

A total bookworm

And swears like a sailor

She's the most reclusive of the Wotter girls

She's the one who comes to their sleepovers the least, even though her sister hosts them

It's not that she doesn't like them or the girls, she just values her peace and quiet

She's is six years younger than her sister and eight years younger than Vic

If any of the girls were going to pull up to a fight, they're bringing Lucy

She is tiny but mighty

Roxanne

Loudest of all the girls and definitely the most likely to accidently break something

She's the same age as Lucy, but Luce was born first

She loves the chaos that is the Burrow when all of her family members are there

Is probably the easiest of the girls to talk to and the most outgoing

Like this girl's mouth does not stop moving for a second

Are we surprised that she's really funny?

No, no one is surprised by that

She is closest with Lily, but Vic is like an older sister to her

She and Lily hang out a lot at school and once they graduate, they move in together

They definitely spend those first few years partying way too much and getting high way too often

But they grow and mature together and they're closer because of it

Lily

If you took all of Harry's bad traits and all of Ginny's bad traits and mixed them in a pot, you'd get Lily Lu

She is sarcastic and always has a comeback ready

She can also be a brat and Ginny blames Harry for that

She is the last grandchild born, three months younger than Roxanne

She has green eyes not brown, and yes, this is a hill I will die on

Loves her cousins, but can find them overbearing at times, especially Vic

When she's feeling overwhelmed, she goes to hang out with Lucy

They both appreciate the quiet and downtime

She sites the fact that she and Roxanne both have annoying older brothers as the reason they're so close

Also a wild child, but in a much more self-destructive way than Molly or Dom are

She blows through boys like they're candy, and it's especially concerning to her cousins

She's loyal though and no one is going to say a word about her family without answering to her

You can think Becky (aka @harryissuchalittleshit) for these headcanons because she asked me for them! You should send all the love her way because she is awesome!

[librarycards]

Do you know how stop obsessing over calories (look at pictures of food and watch videos of people in hospital) easier than "Just Start Eating More"? Every person says "Well, eat more and you will not think of it so much". I am not from U.S and harm reduction is not even in my language. Doctors here do not know this concept and it is thought "You do not eat so now you are sick. Go to the hospital or eat with parents". I learn about harm reduction on Tumblr and forums but I do not find an answer to make it easier. Maybe it does not be easier. If this is so, I understand, but I think of it often.

Oy. If I had a fix for calories, you can bet i'd be screaming it from the rooftops. that said, I have gotten to a place where I can look at food a Normal Amount and not watch those awful before & afters and the like, so i'm including below a few recs that don't involve (for example) eating more, decreasing activity, and other traditional 'recovery' methods.

find a new, niche/weird thing to watch videos about. seriously. get obsessed with some hobby or subculture and fill your ig, etc. feed with those! i went through a phase where i'd just watch flight attendant vlogs. i also love "draw/paint/package things with me" videos. Ideally, these would be videos where the person's body wasn't constantly centered.

relatedly - when i was really fixated on peoples' hospital stays and bodies and tubes and stuff, it was because i was lonely. i was desperate for someone who actually shared this experience with me, because i hadn't processed it yet. the best way to address this takes time, but is very worth it: make friends. irl and online. make friends with people who have shared experiences and are good listeners, but are also fun to talk to about other things.

if you do want to keep watching videos about food, you can reduce harm by watching people who promote positive and curious relationships with food! emmymadeinjapan on youtube is one example of this. the baker Erin McDowell is another.

forgive yourself, and make space for doing things partway + in grey areas. this was. like. the hardest thing for me: i spent so much time early on either eating everything on my plate or, if one element was too scary, eating none of it. this isn't a realistic way to approach anything in life! i don't know how old you are or how much of your diet you currently control, but if you are able to decide what's on your plate, make it a mix of things you know you can eat and things you're not sure about.

or, build in a time of day where you try a new snack, even if you aren't able to do it every time. the point is creating new habits -- habits in which you give yourself permission to eat. not because you are required to, but because you have important and meaningful things to do with your life + you need to eat in order to be alive for them!

honestly, there's only so much advice I can give beyond simply gritting your teeth and Doing the Thing. it fucking sucks, and it hurts, but it's much easier when you have warm people in your life who understand, and ways of entertaining yourself that are attendant to your experience but not completely mired in it. this is an important reminder that you're a regular person who can have a variety of regular interests! this is a part of you, but it does not wholly define you, and you have a whole life to live and relationships + hobbies to explore beyond this focus on calories + institutions.

[starlightshadowsworld]

Sorry if I ended up spamming your notifs but I looked through your dashboard cuz of that Fukuzawa post- how he could feel the bond snapping if the people he consider his subordinates died, and... never in my life have I considered that bond could've applied to Fukuchi when the guy left---

(But then it crossed my mind as I write this that idk if it's fortunate or devastating for Fukuzawa if something life-threatening happened to Ranpo because Ranpo doesn't have an ability that bonded with All Men Are Equal.)

Anyways, I love your post about Atsushi being in the mafia as part of the exchange cuz I love seeing Mori suffer.

I always define Atsushi as "light in the darkness" because in Beast, that's how he was for Kyouka (he'll always be her light).

Sorry for rambling, I should've sent you this as a message but idk if you'd feel comfy about some random acc popping in your inbox.

First off, ramble away.

I love having discussions and stuff about the stuff I talk about.

You're good, I don't mind. If you or someone else was spamming my inbox, I'd let ya know.

I do generally prefer people message me thro the asks, especially if I don't know you.

That aside and onto ur message.

I just can't get over that line of Fukuzawa saying he'd know if Kunikida had died.

That in some way he would've felt it. And I see it as a connection, as an almost physical bond between them that would've been cut.

And the idea of his connection with Fukuchi breaking. What was possibly one of the oldest connections Fukuzawa had, dissolving over time.

Fukuzawa trying to hold onto it because he still sees him as his friend. But it's broken and there's nothing he can do to get it back.

And it being so sad because Fukuzawa is used to these bonds breaking at death, but Fukuchi was lost to him long before he died.

I didn't think about Ranpo.

I think Fukuzawa sees it as both a blessing and a curse that he can't feel if Ranpo is okay.

But it's a testament to their bond that it isn't required. They trust each other so much, that it's like a sixth sense for Fukuzawa to know what Ranpo's up too.

While also knowing that if he wasn't grey before he met Ranpo, he would've definitely gone grey after meeting him.

Agreed.

Atsushi is the beast beneath the moonlight. He is the literal light in the darkness.

The idea of Kyouka envisioning the light with Atsushi as a apart of that, is gonna make me cry I love them both.

Atsushi in the Port Mafia to me is Mori being like I'm gonna corrupt you and Atsushi's like power of friendship motherfucker.

Atsushi won't go to therapy but you bet your ass he's giving everyone in the Port Mafia therapy.

Atsushi met Mori as werid ex doctor who gave him good but advice once. I think he'd be a bit... Skeptical this man is the head of the Port Mafia.

I think he'd listen to him but would think through and use that advice while following his own morals.

Like he did before.

Which is infuriating and fascinating to Mori because clearly Atsushi gets where he's coming from... He just won't do it.

Quite a juxtaposition from everyone else in the Port Mafia follows Mori without question.

But Atsushi does not.

I love the idea of his interactions with Mori are him being mostly maliciously compliant.

Like he's not outright doing something wrong but he's still pissing him off.

Something Dazai and Kunikida would've definitely taught him.

Like Mori's going on a whole spiel and Atsushi is just colouring on the floor with Elise paying him no attention.

And Mori can't say anything because Elise is so happy so he's just silently seething.

That whole Anne's Room episode and seeing these two interact for the first time, with Atsushi not knowing Mori's identity

Is just so intresting to me. More interactions between them is something I want.

That and I'd be curious to see if there was any information to do with the Port Mafia getting the bounty for Atsushi from the Guild and Fyodor.

Because yeah it could've just been for the reward, but was there more to it than that?

Or if the Headmaster had connections to the Port Mafia.

Because however small it may be, the Headmaster still made contact with the Port Mafia to sell a gun.

He's not from the area, but somehow arranged a meeting with them.

And in my opinion died very suspiciously.

I mean I personally hc that the injections the Headmaster was giving Atsushi were obtained from Mori when he was an underground doctor.

Whether that's true or not, idk but it would be intresting if Mori knew more about Atsushi than we realise.

But yeah that's just some of my thoughts.

[greyeyedmonster-18]

hiii, i dont really have anyone to speak to about this at the moment so I just wanted to come here and rant a bit. I'm really sorry if I'm disturbing you.

I have been in a relationship with this girl since January and she went back to her hometown a couple of weeks back. there was a possibility that she might not return since her whole family would shift there. what we have is really fucking good to the point that I'm in love with her.

however, things changed quite a bit in the weeks she was gone. my high school best friend and I dated for a while last year and things ended so bad that we stopped talking altogether - we would meet our friend group separately and avoid each other at all costs. one of the people affected the most by it is supposed to leave in a week for college which led to the plans of a sleepover at my place. In the beginning, we were cordial just for the sake of the fact that it was the last night together with the 4 of us. But things changed pretty soon when I discovered she had feelings for me all along and that they were quietly reciprocated.

it was like old times again and we fell back into a flow and spent the whole night talking while the others were asleep. talking about absolutely everything and nothing and then brewing tea together at 8 in the morning till we finally sleep.

it was so easy being with her again..it was so easy to forget the bad parts that I kept wishing for more.

my present girlfriend comes back tomorrow and I find myself ridden with guilt over the fact that a part of myself really wishes she didn't.

i feel like the bad guy in both their stories but I can't help it. i don't know what to do.

oh, anon, this is tough.

i think...an important part of this to realize is that the sleepover with your ex, and your ex best friend was one night. and its like...on the bachelor, when you're on a date with the rose petals and the helicopters and the fancy champagne, its so easy to love and be with because like how can you have a bad time

and so the sleepover was like a helicopter date. its so easy to be with and catch up and exist together because of the setting and the tea and the sleepover vibes. but you already tried to date them.

it ended for a reason. and after the sleepover, its likely you'd remember why you ended it, even if the vibes right now are good.

if you've been with your girlfriend for many months, there's a reason for that too.

you're not a bad guy, you can have guilty thoughts, but you didn't do anything wrong in this situation. its actually pretty normal to think of the what ifs.

but remember theres a reason that things didn't work out before and it lead you to where you are now.

[dogin8]

point 1: "crazy person who won't listen to doctors advice" is a very pervasive trope in any media that focuses around the medical field (i.e. Greys Anatomy, House etc.). These people are often fat and/or women.

point 2: Real life medical professionals have a history of disbelieving and mistreating fat people, people who menstruate, and women.

conclusion: A lot of "hospital media" makes a ridiculous caricature of people who are genuinely mistreated by the medical system, which normalises the mistreatment these real people face. Fatphobia and Misogynistic tropes are often obvious in hospital media, but a lot of it can be subtle and hard to notice.

this is propaganda, which as we all know you are not immune to, so it's good to be aware of how this might be subtly impacting your views on real life people who have been mistreated by the medical system.

[ladamedusoif]

Sleigh Ride (Jack 'Whiskey' Daniels x F!Reader)

A Merry Fic-Mas - December 10

Part of A Merry Fic-Mas: A Holiday Fic Calendar - click for masterlist.

Follow @ladameecrit for my writing updates!

Pairing: Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels x F!Reader

Warnings: Established relationship; no use of Y/N; no physical descriptions of Reader; non canon-compliant (this man survives and gets the happy ending he deserved); alcohol consumption; references to smut. 

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 1283

Summary: Jack is dashing, and so are you - dashing through the snow, that is.

For @agentjackdaniels, with love.

In the bright light of a sunny winter morning, you blink awake, peek your head above the covers, and swiftly retreat when you feel the first blast of cold on your nose. You nestle in again and reach out to Jack’s side of the bed, seeking heat from your own personal furnace.

Instead of Jack’s solid, warm body, though, you find a little note: 

Had to check on something out in the stables - be back around ten or so. Have some coffee and make sure you’re wrapped up nice and warm for me when I get back, sugar - got something I want to show you. J x

It wasn’t unusual for Jack to be up well before you when you stayed on his little ranch. He’d inherited it a couple of years ago from a favourite uncle, Joshua - “I don’t even have to change the signage, honey”, Jack had mused, looking at the wooden sign at the main entrance that announced, in beautiful old hand-painted lettering: SILVER RANCH - J. DANIELS.

It had become a retreat of sorts for the two of you. The main ranch house was small but solidly-built, decorated in a simple, old-fashioned style that you fell in love with from the first time you saw it. Silver Ranch was the perfect place to spend winter holidays: just you and your cowboy, taking in the surrounding trails on foot or on horseback, giggling over your attempts at fondue, or snuggled up together on the couch in front of the stone fireplace. 

Sometimes, you or Jack would pull a few blankets onto the warm rug right beside the fire: a statement of intent, and the signal for an evening spent making love there under the layers until the fire began to die down and it was time for bed. 

You help yourself to a cup of fresh coffee - Jack always ensured he made a large batch if he was up first - and make some toast before padding back towards the bedroom to get dressed and ready for whatever he had in store. Wrap up warm, he’d said, and you heed his advice, pulling out your thermal layers and adding your warmest socks, a soft, long-sleeved cotton t-shirt and jeans, and slipping a denim shirt and fleece gilet over the top. Your knee-length padded coat and snowboots were out in the hall, ready and waiting with your hat, scarf, and gloves. 

Equine noises and the sound of Jack’s warm voice outside the house signal his return. He calls your name as he enters, finding you on the armchair with a blanket over your knees. 

“Well, don’t you look mighty cosy?”

He’s always a sight for sore eyes, even in layer upon layer of his warmest winter clothing. You know that a pair of brushed-cotton long johns and a long-sleeved thermal vest lie beneath the dark jeans and padded jacket he’s wearing. He’s unzipped the jacket, revealing a warm woollen sweater layered over a plaid shirt, the collar of a grey cotton tshirt just visible. In one hand, Jack holds a felt, extra-warm hat you’d given him the previous Christmas, along with a scarf and his trusty pair of suede, fleece-lined winter gloves.

You grin at him. “I am cosy - but I’m prepared, too. See?” 

You stand up and show off your winter layers, basking in the glow of Jack’s approving smile. 

“And a good thing too, sugar. C’mon - wanna show you something a little bit special.”

It’s… a sleigh. A real-life, as-driven-by-Santa-Claus, straight-out-of-Doctor-Zhivago sleigh. Jemmy (short for Jameson, much to Jack’s chagrin), the favourite horse of Jack’s uncle, stands proudly ahead of the wooden vehicle, bobbing his head and sending joyful little chimes pealing from the sleigh bells - sleigh bells?! - affixed to his bridle. 

You close the door of the house and walk down the front steps, jaw hanging open at the sight before you. The sleigh is dark wood, antique but well-maintained, with red leather upholstery on the seating. Fading gold accents pick out curved detail carved into the old wood. It’s small - certainly compared to the whoppers usually depicted on Christmas cards or in representations of jolly Saint Nick - but perfectly made for two. You notice bundles of blankets neatly folded on the main seat, awaiting the passengers.

Jack holds Jemmy’s reins and pats the horse’s muzzle affectionately before turning and grinning at you. His cheeks are flushed pink with cold and excitement and even with his aviator sunglasses on, you know his eyes are twinkling. “Well? What’cha think?”

“Where did you get a sleigh, Jack Daniels?”

He chuckles and walks around to your side, helping you into the sleigh like the gentleman he is. “I found it out in one of the barns last time we were up here. Came up on my own a couple of times to work on it and get her nice and pretty for my girl. You like it?”

He’s already packing blankets around you, tucking you in so firmly you have to wriggle a little to be able to move. 

“It’s incredible, Jack. I don’t think I’ve ever even seen a real one of these, let alone been in one.”

He crosses to the other side and hops in quickly, pulling a couple of blankets around his own knees before draping one big enough for the two of you on top. You feel Jack’s strong arm, made even bigger thanks to the layers and layers of clothing he’s wearing, wrap around your shoulders as he kisses you before firmly replacing his hat on his head. 

“Well, we’ll start off nice and slow. And then if you want some authentic dashing through the snow - well, you just say the word, baby.”

With a gentle word and a flex of the reins in his practiced hands, Jemmy starts to move and the sleigh begins to glide through the snow.

The sleigh ride feels like being in an old movie, or a picture on a vintage Christmas card. There’s no sound other than Jemmy’s hooves, the crunching and whooshing as the sleigh’s runners cut through pure white snow, the jingling of the bells, and the chatter and laughter between you and Jack. 

It is heaven.

You lean against your love’s shoulder, feeling a warmth course through you that has nothing to do with the thermal layers and Jack’s insistence on bundling you up for the journey. This is so him, you think - planning and preparing for this day for months, just to give you something special. Something shared just between the two of you. You sit up and lean in to kiss his cheek.

Jack chuckles, his beautiful, open face flushed pink and a sprinkling of powdery snow visible on his dark moustache. “So you like the sleigh, sugar?”

You nod and nestle back in against him. “I do. It’s a beautiful thing.”

He hums happily and nods towards your feet. “You'll find a little something extra down there, to keep us nice and warm until we get home.”

The chrome of the hip flask is blinding in the stark whiteness of the landscape and the bright sunlight. You help yourself before passing it to Jack, who takes a grateful swig and exhales. The warm vapor of his whiskey-scented breath is visible in the cold air as he rounds the furthest point of the trail and turns the sleigh for home. 

dividers by @stcvcngrant

[she-karev]

First Day Back (Japril Imagine)

Previous Part Here

Age Rating: 12+

Chapters: Four of Five

Fandom: Grey’s Anatomy

Ship: Jackson Avery x April Kepner

Trigger Warning: Elements of human trafficking

Human Trafficking Resources: https://humantraffickinghotline.org/en, https://www.dhs.gov/blue-campaign/what-human-trafficking,

Canon Episode: Season 17 Episode 6

Summary: After getting Jada’s mom out of jail Jackson talks to Alex in the lounge about April, seeking his advice on his conflicting feelings toward April.

Words: 1070

May 2nd, 2020

“So, both girls are responding well to the oxygen.” Alex explains to Shanice and Jada who are being comforted by Sharon, “As long as the next X-rays are looking good, you can all be discharged tomorrow.”

Jackson enters the room with Jada’s mom, Joyce. Jada gasps at the surprise and hugs her mom in tears who immediately runs to her in joy. Jackson and Alex look on in triumph over this night ending better than how it started. They walk out of the room to give the families a moment to themselves.

“You did this?” Alex asks Jackson as they walk out, “You got her out?”

“Money did this.” Jackson explains while they walk down the hall, “It's the only language this country understands. I need a break, you?”

“Yeah.” Alex responds in exhaustion, and they enter a doctor’s lounge sanitizing their hands before Alex takes his mask off and slumps on the couch rubbing his eyes, “This case man.”

“Yeah, you’re telling me.” Jackson makes them both a cup of coffee, “Did you see that video on the news of 19? The cops arrested them when they tried to stop them from arresting Joyce. I guess we’re not the only ones who suffered because of that soul depraved abomination and the rest of his disgusting cohorts.”

Alex groans at that, “I hope that cop gets his badge taken away from him. I mean who the hell arrests a mother after her kidnapped daughter was rescued? And they say we should feel safe around them.”

“It’s a cruel irony.” Jackson hands Alex a cup that he takes before sipping his dark roast, “I just hope those girls are gonna be okay.”

“Me too.” Alex sips his cup, “How’s Kepner holding up? I gotta say I didn’t think she could ever scare me but tonight she did.”

“Yeah, she scared me too.” Jackson sits in a chair six feet away from his friend, “She’s in the pit right now, Hunt is busy with Satan so she’s helping out.”

“I couldn’t help but notice you hovering over her like you used to when you were together.” Jackson narrows at that observation causing Alex to chuckle lightly, “Dude we all have eyes and frankly you two don’t hide it well or at all. Also, I saw you staring at her while she was walking away, if it was anyone else I would report them for stalking.”

“Okay thanks for that buddy.” Jackson retorts with a sarcastic grin.

“So what’s going on there? I could use a distraction even if it’s your messy love life, spill it.”

Jackson sighs before standing up and closing the door to avoid being a nurse’s topic tomorrow.

He sits back in his chair rubbing his chin, “We kissed two weeks ago.”

Alex chuckles to himself, “I knew it, it was only a matter of time before you guys cave. You live together, you’re raising a kid and dating is not an option now. I called it before Amber did, I don’t care what she says.”

“Yeah, but the things is…” Jackson tries to find the words to explain, “My best friend was in quarantine along with a good friend of ours who is in the ICU.”

Alex nods solemnly at the reminder of Meredith, “April has been great during that time, she has. She let me cry on her shoulder, she told me everything was gonna be okay and I was grateful for that. If it wasn’t for her, I would have been a mess…and when she hugged me, I felt this need to kiss her. It was like I was back to when we were first married before everything fell apart. It was like we were together again.”

“But? I can see a but coming here.” Alex says knowing the up and down circuit of his friend’s relationship.

“But then she pulled back, and I remembered that we weren’t together. I remembered the pact we made when I asked April to move in and I was embarrassed. I was embarrassed that I would risk ruining the dynamic me and April were just starting to form again, and I apologized.”

Jackson sighs rubbing his head in turmoil, “I apologized, and she accepted and said she knew it was a reaction to everything that is going on right now and I tried to convince myself she was right. I tried to convince myself that I would feel differently once Amber and Meredith were better and I wouldn’t feel so sad and desperate for a distraction.”

Alex can see where this is headed before Jackson can elaborate further, “But you don’t feel different do you?”

“No, I don’t.” Jackson confirms with contention, “I still feel that pull that I did that night, and I don’t think it’s going away.”

“So don’t let it.” Alex states bluntly, “You love her, and she loves you just get back together and get it over with for all of our sakes.”

“I wish it was that simple.” Alex scoffs at that causing Jackson to explain, “Me and April it didn’t work before. We tried but we could never…we could never get our timing right, what makes this so different than five years ago?”

Alex sighs before leaning forward on his knees, “Look you and April were young when you got hitched. You two were never serious before then so of course the timing wasn’t right because you never really followed a normal path. But now you two are older, you’ve been with other people and went out in the world on your own paths until those paths crossed and you two started living together again.”

Jackson looks at his friend in thought as his advice starts to seep through, “I know there’s other stuff that got in the way of you two but maybe this time you two can do things differently and actually talk to each other instead of letting your problems ruin you. It took a long time for me and Jo to get to that stage and now we’re happy. I love her and she loves me and nothing in this world can tear us apart. The timing wasn’t right for you and April before but maybe this time it can be. The only question is, do you two want it to be?” Jackson looks on in thought at the question that he already knows the answer to.

Next Part Here

[gor3sigil]

Teen years, chronic depression, suicidality - At what cost did I stay alive ?

[TW - Self harm, suicide mentions, depression]

The first time I heard the word “depression”, I was 11. I had started middle school a few months back, with great difficulty as I had been heavily bullied throughout the last year of elementary school and my bullies were going into the same school as me. Funny enough, they weren’t the ones to pick on me that year, but new girls that I never saw before.

My mom took me to the doctor one day. She told me to be honest with him. She didn’t me why she was taking me until me arrived. She said I looked very unwell. I wasn’t taking care of myself, didn’t take showers, didn’t brush my teeth, and I was wearing the same sweatshirt and sweatpants every week, washing it on the weekend. I remember telling her that I didn’t see the point of going to the doctor for that. At the time, I didn’t feel the visceral misery and pain I would feel later, mostly I felt numb. Life passed and brushed me and I couldn’t care less. I was seeing everything in monochrome, shades of grey, not partaking in anything. That’s how I explained it to the doctor after my mom left me alone with him. I remember that he showed me what looked like a ruler, with a little button you could slide. He told me to slide it where I thought I was in my mind, the farthest right being “extremely depressed” and the farthest left being “extrely happy” or something along those lines. I put the button almost to the farthest left, only a little milimeter before. The doctor had a look of concern and called my mother back in. He explained to her - not to me - that I had depression. Of course, being this young, there were nothing he could do. He couldn’t possibily medicate me and he wasn’t a psychologist nor psychiatrist - he could’ve referred me to one, mind you, but no, off we went, without any advices other than “Take care of your daughter”.

At the time, to protect myself, I had invented a world in my head. I would go there everywhere, no matter the time of day and night, and daydream. I had friends there, characters who got me, I was a vampire (I had been a fairy before,but now I had been bitten by a creature of the night and turned one), I wasn’t going to school, I had somewhere safer to be than home. I spent endless classes sleeping with my eyes open, deep into my own world, not paying attention to anything.

I’d go to bed at 7pm just to daydream, would listen to my music everywhere to cut myself from everything. I got very very few memories from this time. I don’t even know how the hell I functionned this way. The second year of middle school passed without me noticing, so far removed as I was from reality.

Then the third year of middle school happened, and the emptiness and carelessness I had became pure, raw misery like I haven’t known since. I got put alone, without my friends, in a class with all my bullies. I started to get into goth fashion, which didn’t help the fact that I was already considered as an outcast but I fell in love with this culture, and I started to write my own stories and creepypastas. The stress and utter morbidity of my everyday life, wake up, go to school, get relentlessly bullied, go home and cry, rinse and repeat, put me under so much stress that I just stopped sleeping.

Everytime I would turn off the light, I would get intense panic attacks. So I turned the light back on, and played on my Nintendo DS until I’d just fall asleep from exhaustion, getting maybe 4 hours of sleep at best.

When I stopped sleeping, my life became sheer horror. My depression got worse and worse, I started self-harming, I started hallucinating from the lack of rest, my brain felt always overwhelmed by everything, and I was almost completely alone. I started spending all my free time on the internet, reading new creepypastas as, at the time, it was booming, and chatting with other troubled teenagers on the internet to get a bit of company. My nights were spent online, playing video games or reading. I was put on a small dose of Atarax, which didn’t do shit but make me groggy in the morning. The dose was increased, same issues, and the only psychologist I ever saw basically called me a spoiled brat and refused to see me further because I didn’t agree with her about the interpretation of one of my nightmare. When I’d try to sleep or at least rest at night, the impression of imminent death would jolt me awake, I’d get tarchycardia and, as I said hallucinations. I hallucinated people in my room: a child sleeping next to me, an old person putting a flower at the end of my bed, giant spiders, and voices, oh my god, the voices.

I was absolutely suicidal. I cut myself on the daily, thank god I didn’t learn about razor blades at the time and stuck to the point of my compass and box cutter because things would have been very worse if I had blades, with how dissociated I was from my body.

My parents didn’t know what to do with me, they were scared and worried but the doctors weren’t helping, nor did the meds, and I was basically left alone with a brain that wanted nothing less that kill me. You can’t live with that little sleep and that high anxiety constantly. It does fuck you up. To this day, at almost 27, I still have no idea of the consequences from that time but what I can sure as hell tell you is that I never recovered.

This lasted for a YEAR, and since then I’ve been dealing with chronic fatigue and pains, I hallucinate and can have full blown psychosis if I’m under too much stress (which prevents me from working full time), I still hear voices from time to time, I have OSDD.

All the years that followed were so traumatic, my parents got divorced and it was a messy divorce, and I discovered razor blades with made my self harm absolutely worse. I was suicidal, even though I never made full suicide attempts, because I was so scared of waking up. That would’ve been so much worse than death, especially with the father I had. Just trust me on this. If I would’ve want to die I would’ve made sure that it was permanent.

I was in a relationship I hated but won’t go into details about it for privacy reasons. My father was emotionally and verbally abusive and I was left alone with him, my health went to shit and just everything, everything was traumatic. I didn’t have one break for years.

So now, at 27, what did I learn from all this ?

Nothing. I won’t tell you a glow up story because I sure as hell am still struggling with regular suicidal thoughts, mental health and physical health struggles, I’m broke as fuck and addicted to various shit to keep me afloat. Life sucks must of the time, and I wouldn’t still be here if it wasn’t for my partner and my love for books and music.

I still don’t know what’s wrong with my head because no psychiatrist I saw want to diagnose me or even test me for SHIT. Between 2018 and now I saw 6 different psychiatrists, and they all say they’re “not the type to diagnose” or just tell me “well, you meet the criterias for BPD, CPTSD and OSDD or pDID, though we won’t go into that further”. So I don’t have any proper diagnosis, my current therapist just knows and do what she can to help me. I’m at least lucky she specialises in trauma therapy and can help me for that, I don’t know what I would do otherwise.

Anyways. “Life sucks and then you keep living”, I guess.