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theoldsports · 2 months

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THE EYES IN IOWA; LEE

LEE X F!(NON-EATER)READER

warnings: (very vague) references to cannibalism (it’s b&a, do i even need to add this?), honestly, this is more cute than anything else, so.. fluff!!

wc: 2667

a/n: lee is my fav timmy character so i get soo excited when i get a lee request 🤭 i hope you like this anon! i had sm fun writing this; i’d love some more lee stuff in my inbox!!

SYNOPSIS: You felt the eyes on you, but you forced yourself to brush it off. You came to realize that was hard to do when the eyes came to you.

You’ve always been a careful person.

You’ve always looked both ways before you crossed the street; you’ve always checked expiration dates before you bought certain foods; and you’ve always took in your surroundings when you left the house.

Which confused you why you couldn’t see the man following you.

As you stalked the aisles in the store, your eyes gazed by each product on the shelf, waiting to find the one you came here for. When nothing caught your eye, you sighed and began to walk away. As soon as you turned your head to glance back, your eyes caught on a figure a couple feet behind you. You turned back around before you could bump into someone, but the faded red curly hair quickly stuck out in your mind. As well as the baggy clothes and the ripped jeans. You couldn’t get much of a look at his face, but you did notice that his head was turned towards you.

Looking down at your shoes as you walked away, you tried not to let it get to you. Letting out a deep breath, you kept walking towards the exit.

Rounding a corner, you ignore the footsteps behind you and convince yourself they were anybody else’s. When dirty white shoes fill your eyesight, you had no choice but to look up.

“Hey, sorry to bother you, but I was wondering where the candy aisle was?” His voice was smooth, something you weren’t expecting to like. His red hair stuck out in front of the bright white walls behind him, his dirty sleeveless graphic tee hung loosely on his body, putting his arms on display. His baggy jeans hung around his thin waist, just barely giving you a peek of the black boxers that hid the v-line that began to start. The holes in the blue material were large around his knees, showcasing his pale skin.

“Uh, it’s right over.. there.” You turn around and point to the right. With your back facing him, you had no idea if he was listening to you, but you could only hope.

“Right, thanks.” He replies, his voice, against your better judgment, slightly soothing your worries. When you turned around to face him again, your eyes immediately met his. He was already staring at you. “Hey, do I know you from somewhere? You look familiar.” The man moves slightly, switching his weight to his opposite foot.

You quickly shut down his strange start to a conversation, shaking your head. “No, I don’t think so. I’ve never seen you around here.” You deny, ringing your hands together anxiously as you subtly try to find the exit.

He seemed to pick up on your demeanor as he licks his lips, taking a moment to watch you. “Alright, well, thanks for telling me where the aisle is,” He breaks the silence and points in the same direction you had minutes ago. You nod, deciding to break the staring contest you had with your shoes to meet his eyes. They were a deep green, captivating you instantly. In a certain light, you would’ve been fooled they were brown instead. “Catch you around?” He says, as if he’s genuinely hoping he’ll see you soon.

You nod again and give him a smile before walking around him, darting towards the exit. Once you leave the store, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Fresh air hits you as you walk through the parking lot, your mind racing.

Maybe you were just overthinking the entire situation. Maybe he wasn’t following you, maybe he just wanted to ask someone - who just so happened to be you - where the candy was in a store he was unfamiliar with. You forced yourself to go with that answer as you pulled the drivers side door shut, relaxing back in your seat. Before you could finish your deep breath, two knocks sounded from beside you.

Jumping up from your spot, you look to your left at your rolled up window. The same man from inside stood before you, his hand now lowering from the glass. His lips parted as he began to speak, but it was quickly muffled from the barrier between you both.

Against your better judgment, you rolled down the window, the summer breeze hitting you gently.

“Hey, sorry to bother again, but you dropped these while you were leaving.” The words left his mouth perfectly, almost as if he were rehearsing them beforehand. He brings his hand back up, your keys hanging on his pointer finger. You couldn’t help but notice the tattoos on his fingers, admiring the ink that stained his pale skin.

“Oh, thank you,” you reply. You realized that you hadn’t even looked for your keys when you entered your car, too busy thinking about the man that’s currently standing beside your car.

You started to reach out for them, when he suddenly pulled his hand away. “What’s your name?” You were caught off guard by his question, not expecting the words to leave him. You stared at him for a couple seconds before he continued, “I’m Lee.” He introduced himself, looking at you through your opened window, his eyes squinted slightly from the blinding sun.

You sigh lightly before replying, “Y/N.” You notice a small smirk form on his lips when you decide to answer him.

“Pretty.” Lee mumbles, taking a glance at the keys in his hands before looking back at you. “Actually,” he continues, bringing a hand up to his hair, brushing his fingers through it. “I was wondering if you could drive me somewhere, or even just take me with you. My car,” he turns and points to an old, blue pickup truck a couple feet away. “Broke down and I can’t call anyone or take it anywhere, so,” he purses his lips and shrugs loosely, his body language seeming to be very careless.

You noticed that he still held onto your keys as he explained his situation to you, no candy or anything in his hands or pockets. There wasn’t much harm he could do to you without a weapon, right?

Knowing you already lost the battle as soon as he stepped up to you in that store, you nod your head in agreement. “Yeah, sure. I can take you somewhere to get it towed if you’d like?” You offered, watching his reaction.

“Sounds great, thanks.” He smiles, showcasing his pearly whites. You silently admire the smile lines he has, adding to his already charismatic personality. He rounds the front of your car before hopping into the passenger seat, handing you your keys. “Sorry, I didn’t even realize I still had them.” Lee apologizes, watching you start the engine.

A minute or two pass by as you begin to pull out of the parking lot and turn on the radio. The soft hum of the music flows alongside the wind that passed through the car from the open windows. It was a beautiful day outside, the sun shining, birds singing and kids running around, chasing each other or playing on the playground. It was the perfect weather for a walk or a swim, something you now wish you had. As you slowly got lost in your thoughts, you watched the road ahead of you, not paying attention to the man beside you.

Lee never took his eyes off of you once, unless it was to turn if you took a glance at him. There was just something so intriguing about you to him, but he couldn’t place it. He has never spent more than five minutes looking for someone to fall victim to him before, but he’s spent two whole days on watching you. Had he not been a killer, he would’ve beat himself up for being so weird and stalking you the past 48 hours. But there’s not much else he can do that’s worse than what he’s doing now, he reminds himself.

As he observes the way your hands slide over the wheel; the way your eyebrows furrow when a car goes when it’s not supposed to; the way you relax back in your seat when you stop at a red light; or even just looking forward at the road, he realizes how beautiful you are. He can’t go through with this, he thinks. He can’t harm you, his body won’t let him. He knows your name now, he’s been in your car, in your head… he can’t hurt you.

Clearing his throat, he sits up and reaches over to turn the radio up. His washed out curls rest against the headrest as he closes his eyes, feeling the cool breeze hit his skin.

You take a glance over at him, quickly memorizing the picture of him. His nose arches perfectly as his eyelashes lay softly, his hair blowing slightly from the air, the piercing in his ear shining from hitting the sun, and his Adam’s apple sticking out as his neck is pushed out from his position. You bring your eyes back to the road in front of you, thankful that no other cars were near. You let your tense shoulders start to calm as you slowly drift into the music playing, licking your lips as they started to dry from the wind.

“You’re really beautiful,” had the radio been up a notch higher, the words would’ve passed by you. You quickly look over at him, smiling softly and noticing that he was already looking at you. You quietly thank him, looking back at the street, a straight road in front of you for a couple minutes.

“You’re not too bad,” you reply, laughing slightly to show him not to take you too seriously. Your smile grew when you heard a chuckle escape his lips, a deep but comforting sound you’d like to hear more of. You felt a nudge to your thigh in response to your teasing reply, noticing the tatted hand of his move back into his lap.

“Thanks, ma.” Lee smiles, looking at you and then in front of him, watching the trees and houses go by. The name catches you off guard, but doesn’t upset you. If anything, you try not to smile wider at the unexpected endearment.

As you take a right, you notice a sign for a car shop coming up. You point to it, “do you wanna stop there and pick up your truck?” You spare a glance at him as he follows your finger, quickly reading the small letters on the even smaller sign.

“Nah, it’s fine. I can go back later and pick it up. She’ll still be there, I’m sure.” He chuckles softly and runs his fingers through his curls, picking out a knot or two.

“You sure?” You doublecheck but agree once he nods his head again, looking over at you to make eye contact. “Okay… do you want me to drop you off anywhere? Your house?” You look over at him, gazing into his eyes for any type of emotion.

“Uh, I don’t really have much besides my truck. Kinda been livin’ with her the past few months, taking drives everywhere and nowhere, ya know?” Lee rambles, leaning back in the seat, looking over at you to gage your reaction. You nod in understanding, taking a deep breath as you try and figure out what to say.

“You can.. stay at mine? I mean, I just moved in so there’s not much furniture, but,” you shrug, “i’m sure it’s better than sleeping in a car all the time.” You suggest kindly, looking over once before moving back to the road, nervous for his rejection.

Lee watches the way you avoid his eyes, taking in your body language. He wants to accept your offer more than anything, for more reasons than one. But, deep down, he knows he shouldn’t. The urge inside him was going to get stronger the more he stayed with you… but what’s wrong with being selfish for once in awhile? He couldn’t remember the last time he’s felt this normal, besides with his sister Kayla, which he now came to realize he should probably visit her soon.

“You sure? I snore.” He teases, smiling as he watches your lips curl up. If your smile was the last thing he ever saw, he could go peacefully.

“I’m sure. I’m a blanket hogger,” you grin, laughing softly as you tease him back. He playfully groans and throws himself back in his seat.

“Oh, great.” He states loudly, drawing in more laughs from you. Lee smiles fondly at your reaction to his jokes, silently hoping nothing will go wrong in the next couple hours. How could he have ever thought about using you for his insatiable desire? He was far too infatuated with you now.

Putting the car in park as you pull into your driveway, the sun begins to set. The sky was turning into a bluish-purple as the sun slowly hid itself away, the moon revealing as it moved higher in the sky.

You shut off your car as the radio cuts off and the engine stops. Your eyes meet Lee’s as he glances at you before opening his door. You copy his actions as you step out of the car, walking towards your front door. He follows you, his baggy jeans swaying against his legs. You unlock the door, opening it and stepping inside, leaving it open so he can join you.

“This is nice,” Lee says, gesturing to the room he was in. You laugh lightly at his words, turning back to look at him.

“I’m only halfway done with it, I still have a lot more in mind.” You reply, now looking around your living room, taking in the scarce amount of furniture and decor.

He shrugs, “it looks like you.”

“You don’t even know me.” You smile, looking over at him. You both stood a couple feet away from each other, eyes locked. A smirk forms on Lee’s face at your words, dirty shoes making contact with your floor as he makes his way over to you.

“Then let me get to know you.” He whispered, looking down at you. He looks down at your lips before moving his gaze back up to your eyes, watching you repeat his actions. You meet him halfway as you lean towards him, closing your eyes as your lips connect with his. You feel his big hands curl around your hips, squeezing the skin. You subconsciously move closer to him, moving your hands to rest on his neck, your dominant one reaching up to brush your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck.

You pull away when the air dissipates from your lungs, but not moving far away from him. Your breath hits his as his lips stay inches away from yours. You open your eyes slowly, looking up into his. The green hypnotizes you as you stare into them, your hand moving from his hair to the side of his face.

“Why did you pick me, Lee?” You whisper, gently bringing him down a bit so you could rest your forehead against his.

“What do you mean?” He asks, matching your volume. A soft hum of music starts to fill the air, the radio you kept in your house just now starting to play, despite it being a couple minutes from when you turned it on.

“Why did you ask me - out of everyone in that store - where the candy aisle was? I saw you before you walked up to me.” You confess, starting to sway your body lightly to the music. He follows with you, copying your movements. His hands start to slide under your shirt, resting gently against your bare waist.

“Don’t know,” he shrugs slightly, his voice still quiet. “I guess you just captivated me the moment I saw you.” Lee responds, his thumb starting to rub soothing circles against your skin.

“Yeah?” You whisper, softer than before.

“Yeah.” Lee confirms.

#this is genius. you are genius tumblr user lees-bones

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theoldsports · 2 months

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omg would you be down to write a soft lil remus blurby!!! maybe one where they're spending a slow sunday morn together. sleepy smiles, soft sweaters, sitting on the couch reading while they cuddle. Y'know, the type of shit that'll make you melllllt. besitos!

I genuinely know this is ask is so old but this has been sitting in my drafts forever please forgive me.

When you wake it’s warm. The sun is shining in from the cracked curtains, it beats on your back heavily, relenting coolly when you pull the covers over you. The air flows and you can feel the cold wind of Remus’ fan over the skin of your cheek. The other is pressed into his pillow. It smells like cedar and hair oil.

“Good morning” His voice is gravely, raw and thick, and you know he’s just woken up too.

“Mmm.” You murmur.

Draped across your back is his heavy arm. He’s managed to push your his large shirt up, searching for the warm skin under. He traces his fingers across the meadow of skin gently, raising goosebumps in the wake of his fingers.

“How’d you sleep?” His voice imploring as he rubs his eyes harsher than recommended. You don’t answer, rather sitting up in his hold to turn and drape yourself over him, arm around his chest. “It’s that kind of morning?”

He feels you smile into his chest. Your eyes are squeezed shut as you breathe him in. Again. Cedar and hair oil.

“It’s always that kind of morning.”

“Y’ur right.” He laughs.

He olds you into him, sharing body heat like a communal heater. Mornings like this are so rare and so cherished. Either he has work or you do. Today he does, but that’s not a focus of now.

“I want chocolate.” You murmur suddenly.

“You’ve come to the perfect man, you realize that?”

“In pancakes.”

“I can make that happen.”

You lift your head, smiling at your sandy haired boy. He raises his head from his pillow pecking your lips quickly before dropping back down. Smiling, you hold his jaw in you hand as you lean in for another kiss.

—

The kitchen is cold and bright. The sun leaks into the windows, but so does the February chill. Remus is warm though. Remus is always warm. He’s shirtless and you don’t know how. You wind your arms around his back as he stands in front of the stove. It smells good. He allows your roaming cuddle for a moment, leaning into your touch selfishly, and then,

“Go back in bed.”

You’re stumped. Caught off guard. “Rem-“

“I said,” he says, smile playing on his lips as he turns to you. “go wait in bed.”

“Oh,”

You run back in sillily, jumping into the bed and pulling the covers over your bare thighs. You can hear him laugh from the kitchen as you get comfortable. The bed creaks as you lean over it, trying to sneak a view into the kitchen.

“No peaking!”

You bounce back. “I’m not!”

#mother of god.#remus lupin x reader

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theoldsports · 3 months

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hope you're doing well lee!! miss seeing you on my dash :)

oh jo! i am so happy to hear from you. i really miss chatting with you. the comments and ask box stuff i was receiving felt like it laid on a shit ton of pressure to write and be productive and i just couldn’t write like that. i got too scared and nervous and stopped posting all together. very much appreciate you and those that reached out with kindnesses.

thank you, mate, for reaching out. i am overjoyed to hear from you!

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theoldsports · 4 months

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hello!! do you still accept requests for remus? ive yet to read something as (imo) accurate and as well written as your version of him i love it

lagging a bit atm with time and scheduling, but in terms of requests YES! gimme gimme gimme. i am a remus lupin in many ways, so i think i am a bit writing from experience. thank you for the compliment and i look forward to your request.

#remus lupin x you #young remus imagine #remus lupin x reader #harry potter

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theoldsports · 4 months

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happy new year!! Truculent kidnap fic MINE out ASAP!!! no preview, just anticipation. can’t wait.

THANKS FOR 500 FOLLOWERS

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #hunger games #truculent series #the hunger games

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theoldsports · 4 months

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ive been reading Truculent, and i was wondering what the B stands for when coryo signs “C.B.S”? does he have a middle name?

not a canon one. i headcanon that it’s Benedicto. bonus points if you know what it mean.

also you win the ultimate reader award for NOTHING GOES OVER YOUR HEAD I FEEL SO SEEN THANK YOU AH! YOU PAY ATTENTION.

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #hunger games #truculent series #the hunger games #ask

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theoldsports · 4 months

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New part of truculent soon 🥺🥺

YES. SO SORRY, FRIENDS! i worked ridiculous hours this week because i have more than one job and got delayed because i am exhausted. it is SOON.

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #hunger games #truculent series #the hunger games #ask #ballad of songbirds and snakes

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theoldsports · 4 months

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coriolanus snow x fem!reader (1.5K words)

it’s easy to get caught up in his trap. if you’re not careful, you’re gonna get snatched right up.

“Coryo! I cannot find my dress. Did you move it?” His eyes rolled. Why on Earth would he touch her dress? It’s not like he was gonna wear it. He replied, “No, I did not. You might consider checking other rooms rather than scavenging through the same one over and over.”

The slight tinge of attitude didn’t go unnoticed by his wife, but she said nothing. She knew it was in their shared closet; she had set it at the front of the rack herself just before bed. His attitude wasn’t the only thing she ignored. She progressed through the rows of clothing hung up on her side, determined to prove him wrong.

She didn’t understand where this sudden urge to be right came from but she pushed that thought back. The interview was in half an hour. She had approximately ten minutes to get her dress found and on before they had to leave. Traffic in the Capitol at this hour was hell, even for the President and his Lady.

Coriolanus was ready to leave. He hated waiting and he also hated having to repeat himself. Two things he was currently enduring. “Have you checked the guest room?” His tone was harsh and lacked any true concern for his wifes current state.

She was clearly distressed and a little help with less criticism from her husband would ease her. “No I did not. I know I put it in here. I’m not daft.” He felt his hands subconsciously curl into a fist by his side. He had never entertained thoughts of harming his wife until now. Her incompetence and lack of common sense infuriated him to no extent.

He saw the mess she had made of their shared closet and felt himself getting closer to that line of violence. That was a space for the both of them and she had destroyed it. Who does she think she is? This was the President’s house. Not some low-life district cabin.

Instead of indulging his oh-so-pleasant thoughts at the moment, he walked to the guest room adjacent to his own. To no surprise, the dress in its lacey, red entirety was hung in the closet. With no other thoughts besides getting the hell out of the house, he snatched the dress from its place and brought it back to his wife.

She sat atop the considerably small pile of clothes she had pulled from the hangers and drawers; mascara running and a hideous brown dress flared out by her sides. She had given up any hope of finding the dress when she saw Coriolanus come in earlier out of the corner of her eye.

She didn’t even want to attend the interview anymore. She looked crazy and the dress didn’t do much to help that. He would agree. The brown wasn’t a pleasing dark color; it was light and slightly irritating to the eyes. He swore at that moment he’d have that dress burned whilst they were out.

She heard him before she saw him. His black, polished shoes clacked against the hardwood flooring of their home as he approached her. “I can’t find it. I looked through the whole closet multiple times.” Her voice was soft in volume but hoarse. Her throat was itchy and she couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d failed at the one thing she was responsible for: getting dressed.

When no response or acknowledgment was returned, she looked back up at him. And there it was. She stood hurriedly, grabbing the dress from his grasp. “Where was it?” “In the guest room.”

“How did it get in there?” “I don’t know.” She gave him a quizzical look, trying to decipher whether or not he was being honest. She decided on the latter. His lack of words tipped her off. Coriolanus wasn’t a talkative man, but in the privacy of their own home, he was never so quick and dismissive with her.

“Why did you move it?” Her question earned a scoff and the shake of his head. “Can you just change so we can–” “No, I will not. Not until you’re honest.” She stayed glued in her spot, arms crossed as she waited for him to speak.

“Why would I move your dress? What possible motive could I have to do so?” He pushed back. His words ran through her head and she found herself shorthanded. Though it was at this moment she had a realization: Coriolanus Snow was never wrong.

“Because you always have to be right!” The sudden boom of her voice startled him but he didn’t show it. Typical. “I can’t even complain about my food without you stepping in to try and reprimand me like a child.”

He laughed. He fucking laughed at her. “I can’t tell whether or not you’re being serious. Are you still upset over the steak?” “Yes, I am! Because it was fucking co–” “It was not–” “It was MY FOOD. I KNOW WHAT WAS WRONG WITH IT.”

The silence that fell over them held a new found awkwardness and tension. He could hear the in and out of her breath, watching as her chest heaved up and down. Coriolanus wasn’t frightened often, but right now he sure as hell was.

They never fought. He was in new territory but he couldn’t let that stop him from standing his ground. He wasn’t lying about the dress. He knows there are times where he can be a bit dismissive of her problems but he’s the President. He has more important things to worry about; however, he wouldn’t dare speak that out loud.

“I didn’t move your dress. I suppose it could’ve been the maid.” He spoke with a sense of genuinity. It was hard to tell what was real and what was fake. Coriolanus was a charming man but he couldn’t twist his way out of this. Not when it's happened so many times, unrecognized.

She huffed. She hadn’t realized she had been holding her breath as she waited for his answer. It must’ve been a habit at this point. “I know my issues may seem insignificant to yours and that’s fine; I’ve come to accept that. But as your wife, you owe me your word. I don’t know what this marriage means to you, what I mean to you, but to me, you mean the whole world. I ask very little of you so I am asking you here and now, did you move the dress?”

“No.” She broke down. Hysterical sobs as she fell to the floor once again. How could he stand there and lie straight to her face? “Do not cry. You have no means to cry. I’m giving you my word; I did not move that dress. Why can’t you believe me?” He got down on his knees, cradling her face in his hands as he moved to wipe her falling tears with his thumbs. “Don’t you trust me?”

She looked up at him. Her eyes were watering but not as much anymore, and her cheeks held the plump redness due to her sudden outburst. She said not a word. The sudden yell for the maid rang heavy in her ears.

When she appeared at the doorway of their closet, she was dismissed as quickly as she had come. “You’re fired.” Coriolanus offered no further explanation as the maid stood there, dumbfounded at the sudden dismissal.

After she was escorted away, Coriolanus resumed his position in front of his wife. “Did that mean anything to you?” He asked her. “You did that to save your own ass. You only care about you. About being on top and in control. So no, Coriolanus, that didn’t mean anything to me.”

“I would sacrifice the whole world if it meant you were happy. I’d take out all of Panem just to make you smile. You are my biggest ‘what if’. Everything I do, I do it with the thought of you. I don’t know how you are so unaware of that.”

His declaration had her heart pounding. Coriolanus rarely even said he loved her. She had lost all feeling besides guilt. Guilt because how was she so naive? He is her husband. He wouldn’t lie to her. How blind must she be that she can’t even realize that?

“I’m sorry.” He smiled gently at her. “Nothing to apologize for. Mistakes happen.” He stroked her hair, twirling it once he got to the end. “It’s so easy to get lost in what we want, so much so that we forget who we’re hurting. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me, did you?” She shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes because of how she had hurt him. She was cruel.

He pulled her into a hug. Her face found comfort in the crevice of his neck as he rocked her back and forth, shushing her like a child. “As long as you are my wife, there is no need to think. I will tend to your every need. You don’t need anything or anyone else besides me,” He pulled her face to level it with his, looking straight into her eyes.

“Okay?” “Okay.”

#SO GOOD #beautiful depiction of how coryo is capable of warping realities that aren’t his to fuck with #like… well done to the point of hurting my heart to read #well done my friend #heavqn <3 #coriolanus snow #the hunger games #coriolanus snow x reader

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theoldsports · 4 months

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merry christmas to those who celebrate!

this new coryo fic about his wife getting kidnapped by rebels is going to be a DOOZY. it’s long, so i’ll be taking my time. however… you’re gonna love it. i am more excited to share this one than Matrimony, i think.

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #hunger games #truculent series #the hunger games

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theoldsports · 4 months

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Love your snow fics!

AHHH thank you!!!!!!

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #hunger games #truculent series #ask

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theoldsports · 4 months

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I read your Truculent series days ago and I genuinely can’t stop thinking about it. You’re writing is incredible, and I love the way you built the relationship between coriolanus and the reader because it felt so authentic. I genuinely can’t wait to read more in the future!!!

holy smokes, this is kind. hearing stuff like this makes me want to write more. i am so glad to know i could write something decent enough to stick in your noggin like that. merci, friend. really.

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #hunger games #truculent series #ask

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theoldsports · 4 months

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Not to be greedy but when do you think we’ll be getting fed with the Rebel attack instalment of truculent? 💞💞

RIGHT AFTER CHRISTMAS IM STOKED

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #truculent series #ask

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theoldsports · 4 months

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How about Lacy finding Eddie's writing? 🤭

need you to imagine me listening to a fifth of beethoven from the saturday night fever soundtrack whilst writing this because i became insane and filled it with Clues.............

it's like trying to understand the fucking zodiac killer.

it's all codes and ciphers and scrawls and-- well, she thought she might have been reading that one upside down but it's actually indecipherable any way you twist it.

and it's not like any of it is even written on paper either. torn open cigarette packs, napkins, burger wrappers from the diner. one time a leaf.

because eddie's not like lacy in the way she keeps a journal but eddie's like lacy in that if he's roundhoused with a thought that he needs to remember, he's got to write it down now immediately pronto on any available surface.

which is pretty pointless, since he keeps losing all this garbage and she has to pick it up after him.

she bears over the spread of scraps like an fbi agent, palms braced to the table. there's a thread here, but she can't quite untangle it. she's staring at a pile of shit that says shit like

crabs incident-- bruised like a peach worth biting-- violet like violence??

red tights. tingly. carnelian little carnivore.

track two. treasure.

persephone's hall pass.

seventh grade & as many minutes in limbo. shoulda ripped off band aid.

mage in a mink coat.

well, that last one--

"you dumpster diving now? hard times."

fuck! fuck. told you, rat blood. appearing out of nowhere with no noise no notice to then become the loudest thing in the room. he's like thunderclap, this fucko, like a spontaneous combustion.

he also doesn't even recognize his own handwriting, seems like. she blushes, furious. doesn't know why.

"community service. they have me picking up the trailer trash's trailer trash."

"snitty!" he shoves the bag of chips he's holding at her--an offering, he can't do anything normal around her--and reaches for one of the scraps. lacy watches him like a scientist watching a guinea pig for brain activity-- and his eyes go all wide and panicky. "wait."

"eddie-- hey!" but he's scrambling now, going for all the little pieces of writing she'd been trying to arrange on the table like a pointless puzzle. "don't--"

"where'd you get all this shit, huh?! going through my pockets now, is that it? like a cop?"

"i-- hey, don't you fucking dare-- look, you shed!"

"i shed?"

"you shed. you've got shit falling out of that stupid, enormous nerd binder every goddamn day because you just shove shit in there and don't organize anything, and i wasn't gonna stand around and let you just litter everywhere and--" now it's her turn to be like. wait. crosses her arms, eyes narrow, she's mother superior serving nailed ya bitch. "--why are you all skittish?"

"huh?"

"it's just-- trash, right?" she snatches a burger wrapper out of his grasp. oh this is delish.

"yeah," he grabs, but she's holding it behind her back and god her face is like stupid smirky, "but it's my trash. my--giveit--private... trash."

eddie munson is blushing.

"who's the mage?"

"the fucking.... the what?"

little crinkle as she unfolds a piece torn off a brown paper bag. "mage in a mink coat. who's that?"

"nobody."

"i have a mink coat."

"oh. does that really say mage? 'coz it should say mange." he's such an asshole. she's grinning so wide.

everyone says revenge is a dish best served cold but she bets she could use eddie munson's cheeks as a hotplate and eat right off 'em. it'd taste so much better. lobster bisque. filet mignon. michelin star.

"have you been writing about me, munson?"

his face is all stone-set, mouth all i can't fucking believe this and eyes all i'd cut the brake lines in her van if she wasn't the one scamming rides off me all the time. "li'l miss my life is incomplete without eddie munson wants to talk?"

"called you a neanderthal in the next sentence. don't forget that."

"you're such a beastie."

"carnelian little carnivore, you wrote."

"what makes you so sure it's all about you, huh?"

"context clues."

he glances down. she is, in fact, wearing the aforementioned tingly-feeling-inspiring red tights again today. shit.

"what happened in seventh grade?" she's pointing to the scrap in his hand, one he's managed to keep out of her snatchy little fingers.

she doesn't remember anything significant about seventh grade. but he does, and a knot tightens in his chest and he's about to lie and say something crass about my fist, a stopwatch and a view of you from underneath the bleachers at cheerleading practice-- then final bell rings.

"that is for me to know--"

"--and for me to die ignorant?" she's an active listener.

"precisely, you wench. now get the fuck outta here, i got hellfire."

lacy leaves the scraps.

"i will find out, y'know."

he knows. "you're like a bitch with a bone that way."

"the bitchiest."

#please write more writing that reads like this #sugar you really are a fuckin genius #want to wrap my arms around your brain and give it a squeeze #eddie munson

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theoldsports · 4 months

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saw Wonka today im so <3 <3 <3

#wonka #wonka 2023 #willy wonka #timothée chalamet #wonka x reader #willy wonka x reader

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theoldsports · 4 months

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just finished matrimony. i can’t even process what i just read. you out-do yourself every single time!!!

thank you for your kindness. i so appreciate it. this one wasn’t as easy for me to write for some reason, but i am SO pleased with how it came out. hearing from you always makes me so happy!

#coriolanus snow x reader #truculent series #ask #heavqn <3

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theoldsports · 4 months

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Matrimony

Coriolanus Snow x Reader | 5.7K words

SMUT 18+ ONLY. unprotected sex. possessiveness, flirting, drinking, body image/too tight dress, gaslighting.

THE WEDDING. FINALLY. CLICK HERE TO READ MORE.

The sheets in the large hotel bed were soft and smelled so clean. They lacked the heavy rose smell that lingered in the Snow home. It was a welcome change of pace.

Too bad [Y/N] had hardly slept a wink in them. She was too nervous. It was the day of her wedding, after all.

She didn’t hate Coriolanus. She had before, but she didn’t now, not really. Coriolanus had slept well last night, which he rarely did. He only slept a few hours a night too often. [Y/N] thought her nerves had increased due to the proximity of the wedding, Coriolanus’ had subsided as the day drew closer because it was likely that he thinking he was one day closer to fully having [Y/N] under his thumb. But whoever knew what Coriolanus was thinking?

[Y/N] was worried about saying I love you and I do. She knew Coriolanus didn’t want her to be so anxious about it and reminded her, with a kiss to her forehead each time, that she could do it. He loathed being supportive, but he was getting better at pretending. It was less exhausting for him now.

If nothing else, tonight would be a party and a party meant she would drink and eventually she would blackout, if she was lucky. And Coriolanus would get her back upstairs to their hotel room and fuck her good and hard, so he would be happy. And they would wake up still wed the next morning. And he would be still be haughty and she would still be discontented. And that would be the first day of the rest of their lives.

[Y/N] had watched Coriolanus leave quietly through the door nearly an hour before. The few moments of rest she was able to get from her night of sleep ceased when he pulled his arm off of its nightly home on her waist. He had turned over his shoulder to look at her from the door before he left. One final good, long look. It was funny. Coriolanus never took the time to look back at her. [Y/N] snapped her eyes shut when Coriolanus rocked his weight back onto his heels. [Y/N] hoped he hadn’t seen her blush or fluttering eyelashes. [Y/N] got so excited at the simplest gesture from him. If she were a less careful woman, she may have almost smiled.

He looked at me.

The brief joy was gone with Coriolanus and he was now long gone. [Y/N] finally rolled over to step out of the bed. Her new silk white nightgown alluded to her future that evening. [Y/N] sighed. Her hand crunched against something paper beside her. Coriolanus must have left something. [Y/N] glanced to her right. A white rose from the vase he had requested on the bedside table, free of thorns. [Y/N] smirked. Of course. There was also a note in his curly, slanted script.

Darling,

Big day. It’s likely the next time I see you will be at the alter. Remember, you have nothing to be nervous about. I’ve got you.

And don’t lace your corset so tight you can’t breathe. You’ve got dancing to do.

C.B.S.

He was so good at baiting her into comfort that [Y/N] almost forgot it was baiting. She took at deep breath. I’ve got you. Coriolanus still had not seen the dress, but his educated guess about the corset was spot on. He was always spot on. He paid too close attention. It was shocking that Coriolanus could oscillate from obvious manipulation and intimidation to the man that cared for [Y/N]. Unless the second part was more elaborate manipulation too.

[Y/N] went to the bathroom to piss.

Dark spots on her neck and chest greeted her. They never really faded away. Coriolanus would find new places for them, or mark over the old ones. [Y/N] liked how they looked and certainly how they felt to receive. But what a pain they were to conceal! She should have known better and acquired a high-necked gown way back when. It was a winter wedding, so it wouldn’t have looked out of place.

The beauty parlor would be able to work some of that Capitol magic on them.

[Y/N] looked in the mirror over the sink in the bathroom with the pristine black tile and giant bathtub. She smiled vapidly. That was that. By the end of the day, she would officially be a wife. Her identity would be defined by Coriolanus.

Once, she smiled because her poor decisions would reflect boldly on Coriolanus. Now, [Y/N] worried because it was the other way around. She was a permanent extension of Coriolanus and his aspirations and desires the second she had his name.

She sighed. For better or worse.

[Y/N] crept down to the hotel lobby in large green sunglasses and a hotel robe. It was turquoise. It was a terrible color. Coriolanus would have hated it. She lost her purple sunglasses after the Flickerman interview. Coriolanus did like that. He hated those sunglasses too. The green ones were better to him. A small part of [Y/N] liked knowing that Coriolanus was pleased by what she wore.

She glanced around. No sight of Coriolanus. She didn’t want to break tradition. There was no more room for things going wrong in her life. Across the lobby, [Y/N] went towards the beauty parlor and the wedding shop. She had gone through so many catalogs of dresses and hairstyles and everything must be perfect, only for her to allow to be handled by beauticians who were strangers at the last minute.

Then the hands landed on her waist. [Y/N] gasped, readying herself to scream. The hands pulled her to firm chest and the hands turned into arms, wrapping around her waist and pulling her back beside a ficus and a fern.

She looked down and saw the hands. Pale white hands with rings and a loose bracelet.

Coriolanus Snow, rigid, but never one for following the rules.

“Coriolanus!” [Y/N] squeaked. “You’re not supposed to see me yet. Let go!”

“That’s a silly old story. Saw you this morning.” He whispered with a smirk, holding [Y/N] waist tight.

“It’s… yeah, but—“

“Thought I wasn’t supposed to see the dress. But you—“

“I don’t wanna ruin today—“

“Fine! Fine! Just let me look at you one more time and I’ll let you go,” Coriolanus said. He spun [Y/N] to face him easily. His eyes slid from her eyes through glasses, down her face, her neck, her breasts, back up to her neck. That’s where his eyes greedily stopped. His finger tickled the skin on the right side of her neck where he had left a dark bruise. [Y/N] laughed a little and slotted her face into his hand.

“No thanks to you, the ladies in the parlor will have to work harder on me today.” [Y/N] said, referencing the marks.

“Don’t cover them.” Coriolanus said simply.

“What?”

Coriolanus smiled softly. “Don’t cover them. You look very beautiful.”

“Yeah, didn’t know you had such a sense of humor, Coryo. Could’ve fooled me,” [Y/N] smirked. “It’s our wedding.”

“So?”

“So…” There was no good argument. [Y/N] had done much worse before. They both knew that. She huffed.

“Fine,” he conceded. “Do whatever you want. I’m just saying, if I had to take my shirt off for some reason tonight, my back looks three times worse than your neck.”

[Y/N] blushed. “Yeah, but you eliminated your argument by saying that. Because you are wearing a suit. I’m wearing a low-cut dress.”

Coriolanus gritted his teeth. He was going to say something harsh. He refrained. “So the dress is low-cut?” He asked, raising a brow.

“Fuck!” [Y/N] exclaimed. “No. No more. I’m going,” she tried to pull away from Coriolanus. “Let me go. I’m going. I’ve ruined it,” she jabbed a finger in his chest. “You cursed us. We’re cursed. That’s bad luck.”

“If anyone cursed us,” Coriolanus let go of her waist. “It was you, Darling.” He called as she walked away. [Y/N] shuddered as crossed her arms. He hadn’t meant it, had he? God, he loved it when he made her nervous.

—

[Y/N] had some bridesmaids. She did not love that she had to share the stage and the big fluffy dresses with the ladies, but here she was. Lysistrata was her Maid of Honor. She wanted it to be Clemensia, but Coriolanus said no.

After that, Clemensia refused to be in the wedding party at all. Too bad.

[Y/N] thought she looked good in her white snowy gown. Lovely even. But she was too nervous to focus on much of that beauty.

Everyone would nitpick her dress, her hair, her body, why she of all people was unbreakably becoming the Capitol’s darling’s Darling, among other things. The pressure was high. [Y/N] had not been able to make herself cry either, which was unusual for her. The woman wanted to claw at her skin and tear it off from the itching, nerves and impatience.

Would Coriolanus finally love her tomorrow? Or would he ignore her now that she was belted in permanently as his plaything. [Y/N] didn’t want to be used only when Coriolanus wanted. She would have bitten her nails if they weren’t so well-manicured.

[Y/N] inhaled. Her corset was too tight and she was so nervous. The breath came out ragged. It didn’t relieve her the way that a deep breath was supposed to. She thought back to Coriolanus’ note: And don’t lace your corset so tight you can’t breathe. She hadn’t listened well enough. [Y/N] did not want him to be mad at her. She reached back with shaking hands to try and loosen it, but she couldn’t manage.

I’ve got you.

When she sat down on the bench in the hallway outside of the venue to wait for her father to walk her down the aisle, the pressure shift made the bottom half of her dress’ corset tightened more. The dress was stunning, it was a true. A ballgown, a favorite style of [Y/N]’s. It was indeed low-cut with a beaded white corset pressing her breasts higher. It didn’t make her feel whorish, but it helped her feel beautiful. Over that, she had a wintery long-sleeved translucent mesh top. It was white and was covered with speckles that looked like snow in the places where snow might catch as it sprinkled down. Her veil was less traditional and didn’t cover her face completely. [Y/N] felt freer in it, and Coriolanus wouldn’t have to wrestle with it. Under it, she wore the red heels she had worn at their engagement party. It was sentimental, but that night was one of the first actual lovely memories she had of Coriolanus. Was that memory meant to be lovely? [Y/N] was unsure. She decided she would remember it that way. If she didn’t, she would lose her mind at what she had done to herself.

I’ve got you.

Everything had to be lovely.

The wedding had to be lovely.

“[Y/N],” Her father said, approaching her in a loud colored tuxedo. Gaudy. Tacky. “Stand. Let me look at you,” He muttered, extending his arm to her. [Y/N] did as she was told like she was a child again. The man could barely look at her. They had spoken for the first time since their engagement party at the rehearsal dinner the day prior. Her father was pleased to leave the burden of his disappointment on another man. [Y/N] shifted and did a small spin for her father before taking his arm. She could hear the orchestra playing inside the venue along with the chatter. [Y/N]’s looming father reached behind her and grabbed the ties of her corset and pulled the ends tighter. Her breath hitched. “That’s better.” Her father said. Then, he proceeded to the door to finally give her away.

[Y/N]’s head swam. She had already been laced into the damn corset for what felt like too long but in reality had been a bit over an hour. She coped by taking shallow breaths from her chest and staring straight ahead, unblinking.

The doors parted. [Y/N] hadn’t even realized that had been pulled in front of the doors to the event hall itself. All white and red, like most winter weddings were meant to be, but white and red the way Coriolanus (and by extension [Y/N] now) liked. The bouquet, forgotten, was held straight and clutched tighter. [Y/N] lacquered her smile back on. Being in front of everyone she had ever known made her dizzy. Everyone she had ever known gasped and smiled in delight at her. The music changed. She walked. She wanted to puke. Eventually, she was at the alter. Her ribs ached. Her chest burned. [Y/N] smiled wider.

Coriolanus. His loose blonde curls were determinedly tamed, slicked behind his ears. His unruly hair never did what anyone commanded, so it was an impressive feat. Black tux, white bow tie, red rose; standard. His shoes were also red. Those were new. Did he think about her red shoes from that night often too? Had he snooped and seen her shoes in her tote bag last night even though she told him not to? It must have been his intuition. Best not to read into it. Coriolanus Snow liked red.

He also wore gloves. White and dapper. He looked so clean. Those gloves made sure not a trace of the cruelty he was capable of was visible. No trace left behind.

[Y/N]’s father deposited her in front of Coriolanus with an obligatory kiss to her forehead and walked away. She couldn’t recall walking to the alter. Her knees shook. Coriolanus was tall. Had he always been so tall?

Effortlessly, Coriolanus leaned forward and wrapped his hands behind her waist. [Y/N] thought he had just meant to place his hands on her too-narrow waist to greedily admire what he was capable of manipulating her body into. Instead, he loosened it.

I’ve got you.

What a beautiful scene that must have been. [Y/N] inhaled deeply through her nose as if she had risen from the dead. The world around her felt real again. Everything looked real. “Thank you.” She gasped.

Coriolanus kissed her forehead, much like her father had. Power shown as repetition and reversal of action. “I thought I told you not to cinch it so much.” He whispered softly. Coriolanus tipped her chin up with the fingers under his white leather glove. The pictures of that moment would later be so beautiful.

“I didn’t.”

“Somebody did, Darling… Silly. These are pretty, though.” Coriolanus whispered away from prying microphones. He dragged his finger across her neck, meaning some of the marks she had left uncovered on a stupid whim that was about to share a last name with her, but showcasing her pearl necklace instead.

“For you,” [Y/N] panted back sarcastically. “Can we get on with it?”

“Romantic.” Coriolanus scoffed and leaned away from [Y/N]’s ear. His shoulders unrolled to their full and staggering height, beautiful beast that he was. Coriolanus took [Y/N]’s hand that did not hold a bouquet of red roses in his. She swore she had imagined the circle Coriolanus has ghosted over the back of her hand.

The officiant of the wedding was beckoning everyone to sit. [Y/N] hadn’t realized the attendees had been standing. The officiant wore black as well. He was disgracefully old. [Y/N] looked out the massive picture window over Coriolanus’ shoulder. There was snow outside, too.

The old, frail man cleared his throat and held his arms open to the congregation. “A true lasting marriage requires effort, commitment, and unending understanding. As [Y/N] and Coriolanus declare their partnership on this day, we reflect on the meaning of partnership and its importance to a successful union. Partners, in life, think of one another as capable, but each arriving with their own special skills.” At these words, [Y/N] scoffed. She wondered if Coriolanus thought her capable. Coriolanus stared down at her. No love. No hatred either. He looked at her stoically. She wanted him to look down at her with something. Usually, he did. She wanted an iota of anything.

What happened to I’ve got you.

“Marriage is rarely equal. In marriage, you will often be required to honor commitments you cannot fully understand. The mark of a successful marriage is that you meet these commitments with patience, honesty, and love—even as you fail.

“Over time, you will realize that the burdens placed upon you by life are not loads to be carried—they are opportunities. Each day is an opportunity to be shared with your partner; the dawn of each day brings new experiences.”

[Y/N] felt like vomiting. This was burdensome. Not a burden, a weight. Would Coriolanus help her lift it? Or would he leave her to roll the boulder up the hill each morning on her own? He promised that he would; that he had her back, that he would help, that she would never be left to struggle alone again.

“Your rings and your vows, please.” The old man sputtered. Coriolanus removed his gloves to tuck into his pocket and exposed his beautiful hands. [Y/N] wondered if he had ever played piano. Likely not. He did not own a piano. His hands indicated that he would have been natural to it.

He procured two white gold rings from his breast pocket. One thicker for his own large hand, one daintier with three very small rubies to go with the massive ruby in the daintier still engagement ring. Coriolanus passed her the one meant for his finger.

Now came the part that had [Y/N] worried. Both the words themselves and the memorization of such words. Coriolanus was to begin. Naturally.

Coriolanus inhaled deeply. His chest jumped under his white tie. [Y/N] nearly guessed he was nervous. How could a creature like that get nervous? “I, Coriolanus Snow, take thee, [Y/N] [L/N], to be my wedded Wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part.” He spoke deceptively calmly. His voice boomed with an authoritarian edge. He had a completely different voice in public than he did in their bedroom. After the words were passed his lips, he smiled. Finally. Finally, he attempted to reveal a feeling. He slid the ring down her left ring finger to its final resting place.

“I, [Y/N] [L/N], take thee, Coriolanus Snow, to be my wedded Husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, and to obey,” the word that had made her so nervous. Once she said it, everything felt much lighter. The hardest part was over. [Y/N] took that last step to give herself to Coriolanus. He had everything of hers, and now he had her ring finger too. She felt she had rushed the beginning of this vow, so she took her time with the little that remained. “Till death us do part.” [Y/N] concluded as a wife. She pressed his ring onto his ring finger. Slow. Coriolanus couldn’t take his eyes off of her.

[Y/N] dragged her eyes from the hand that dried her tears and gripped her throat, to the eyes that hungered for every morsel of her. [Y/N] handed her bouquet to the woman, whichever one stood closest behind her, and clasped both of her hands against Coriolanus’, like she was supposed to. She would be the best at doing what she was supposed to. From this day forward, [Y/N] would find that she was capable at something and do it effortlessly for Coriolanus. There was no other option.

Lastly, the Capitol’s undying wedding tradition. Handfasting. The officiant spoke again with clinical and precise rhythm. “Handfasting is an old and venerable tradition that dates back more than ten thousand years. As I wrap this ribbon around your hands, I want you to think about what you think marriage means.” The traditional narrow red ribbon cinched together their palms like a corset.

Marriage was… what, a partnership? A trap, a cage… [Y/N] thought back to the beginning of the ceremony. A burden? No. An… Opportunity. Coriolanus Snow was an opportunity. He took a chance with her and her bullshit everyday. She did the same. Everyday would be an opportunity that she would take at all costs. [Y/N] would make it work.

I’ve got you.

“Marriage will deepen your commitment to one another and strengthen the respect and support you each bring to your relationship.

“Your challenge is to grow with one another, to offer each other compassion and understanding, and to take each new challenge and adventure as it comes as a team. With each wrap of the ribbon, I give my blessing as an officiant that your marriage will be so. Let this bond be strong. Let this bond be eternal. I now pronounce you, Mr. and Mrs. Coriolanus Snow.”

As the pair’s hands were cinched even nearer together, [Y/N]’s eyes caught Coriolanus’ in prolonged eye contact. They both looked light. Relieved. It was over. The hard part was over. She swore she even saw Coriolanus smile— not smirk.

“Mr. Snow, you may now kiss your bride.”

Coriolanus did not waste even a second. He tipped his bound hands up and used the force of the action to pull [Y/N] to him. Their lips met in a searing, stinging kiss. Coriolanus pressed down against her, [Y/N] neck strained from turning her head up.

—

Everything was a blur. There was the dance floor, the drinks Coriolanus kept bringing, the hand locked on [Y/N]’s waist. The delicious cake. [Y/N] had smashed a forkful into Coriolanus’ pristine pale face. He had looked both surprised and upset, but he didn’t say anything like the good husband he was becoming. Plus he got the opportunity to get [Y/N] back and do twice the damage. He did this swiftly. Everyday in a marriage was an opportunity. Or something.

[Y/N] had been introduced to many important people Coriolanus worked with but he kept her too drunk and dumb to do much more than nod and keep her up arm protectively glued to Coriolanus’ arm. Especially around some of the prettier woman. She hated seeing his white teeth flash at those other woman. How could they smile like that at him with his wife in her gown right there?

[Y/N] stumbled to the bar for a whisky sour. While she waited on the bartender to mix her drink, she glanced through the bright flashing lights at her husband. The fair-haired man was sitting at their table, chatting with one of his University ‘friends’ that had stopped by to wish them well. [Y/N] glanced back at the bartender.

“Congrats.” The bartender said. [Y/N] squinted at his name tag but barely registered what it said.

“Thank you.” She replied, folding her hands on the bar.

“Some wedding. Very beautiful. You look very beautiful. That’s a hell of a dress, too. Is it hard to move in?”

“No, not really.” [Y/N] smiled slightly.

“Your husband’s been back and forth the the bar a ton. He pretty drunk by now?” Bold. Why had the bartender asked that?

[Y/N] her head. “Most of those were for me. So. How about that whisky sour, hm?” She said, her smile getting tighter and tighter-lipped.

“A man like that would make me wanna drink too.”

[Y/N] had spent much of her relationship with Coriolanus feeling that way, but hearing it from someone else made her upset. She did not like hearing anyone say a damn word about him. Only she was allowed to be upset about Coriolanus. Her eyes narrowed at him. “Excuse me?”

“He’s… He’s tough, no? Cold. Hard exterior. Guys like that freak me out. You seem very different from him. I mean, fuck. Look what he did to your neck. You let him do that? He make you do that?” He shrugged too casually. The stranger was taking much too long to mix a whisky sour. It was an easy drink. How many had he already unknowingly made for her tonight?

“Different maybe,” she started. “But he doesn’t freak me out at all. He doesn’t… Make me do things I don’t want to,” Lie. Not right now, but sometimes, lie. “You don’t know him.”

“Sure, sure, I’m just trying to make conversation.”

“Odd topic choice.”

“Is it?” The man smiled. “I’ve been to enough of these weddings to know that girls like you rarely fall for men like him. Usually, there’s some crying bride at the bar because her parents said they would disown her if she didn’t marry some guy like your blondie over there. You’re keeping it together fairly well, doll.”

“Make the damn drink.” [Y/N] replied.

“Jeez, lady. Just trying to—“

“I think the lady told you to make the damn drink,” Came Coriolanus’ voice and his arm squeezing squeezing like a vice around her waist. She didn’t know how much more that waist could take. “Darling, is this man bothering you?” He asked quietly.

If she said yes, the bartender’s tongue would be cut out, or worse. The young man didn’t know; he had been trying to be nice. But it felt so good when Coriolanus came to her rescue and she had to practice positive reinforcement every now and then.

[Y/N] decided she would do her favorite thing: cry. Coriolanus couldn’t ever ignore her tears. [Y/N] knew her husband loved to fix a bird with a broken wing like herself. She sniffled and blinked a few times, staring dead at the bartender, before the tears started to fall.

“Yes. He is bothering me.” She said. The bartender looked appalled at the psychotic display. Clearly, he had misread her situation. [Y/N] knew she was capable of being nearly as rotten as Coriolanus. This man standing in front of her was about to face the consequences of assumptions. [Y/N] looked up at Coriolanus and placed a hand on his chest. He understood exactly what she wanted. Causing their first scene as a married couple. Milestone.

Coriolanus tightened his grip on her. “Look,” Coriolanus squinted at the bartender’s name tag. “Brutus. Hm. Brutus, do you know what that name means?” He condescended.

“Strong.” The bartender replied, putting his shaker down cautiously.

“Really? Well, I suppose it could contextually. Though, I was under the impression it meant dull,” Coriolanus scoffed. “What have you done, Brutus, to upset my wife so much?” He said Brutus as if he were saying dull.

“N-nothing. Just making conversation.”

Coriolanus smirked and [Y/N]’s grin echoed his, but her teeth were straighter. They both liked it when they had someone uncomfortable enough to stumble over their words. “Just making conversation? Did he touch you, dear?” Coriolanus asked. The punishment for touching her would be losing a hand or two. The fellow made a decent drink. She didn’t want him to lose that gift.

[Y/N] sniffled, tugging at Coriolanus’ heartstrings. “No,” sniffle. “He was only running his mouth. He thinks I sh-shouldn’t have married you.”

Coriolanus dragged his blue eyes between [Y/N] and Brutus. “Why shouldn’t we be married?” Coriolanus asked too easily. It was a trap. Brutus shook his head and opened his mouth to speak. “No, please, go ahead. I’m just making conversation. What was it that you said to my wife, here? I’m curious now.”

There was silence. Brutus hung his head uncomfortably. “I’m sorry, sir.”

Sir. [Y/N] knew Coriolanus would like that.

“Jealous? Think you could please my wife better than I could? Am I on the right track?” Coriolanus leaned down to press his lips against weeping [Y/N]’s neck from behind as he spoke to Brutus.

Drunk and dumb from the stress, the alcohol and his touch, [Y/N] reached her hand up to tangle it into Coriolanus’s curls. He didn’t protest for once. Her fingers cut through his hair product and lodged in place, giving his hair a gentle tug. “How’s this for you?” Coriolanus murmured, staring at Brutus and touching [Y/N] disgustingly.

[Y/N] wasn’t sure if it lasted minutes or hours, staring the bartender down like that. Coriolanus pulled her into the lobby and up the stairs to their hotel room. She couldn’t remember exactly if Coriolanus had made the two of them say a proper goodnight to the remaining party attendees. She still had her shoes on, so she would settle for being impressed with herself for that.

Coriolanus unlocked the door to their room and propped it open with some difficulty.

“What are you doing?” She asked tiredly.

“Well, Mrs. Snow, you went on about so many little traditions this week, so I figured I would gift you this.” Coriolanus scooped [Y/N] clumsily into his arms and carried her over the threshold of the room. [Y/N] smiled at his gesture.

Coriolanus walked with her in his grasp until he set her down on the bed with a muted thump. He turned back to the door and closed it. [Y/N] stared up at Coriolanus as he returned. The jacket of his tux and his red shoes had vanished on his walk back.

[Y/N] was quite surprised that Coriolanus had remained in what seemed to be such a decent mood for him all day. The smile or smirk or snarl still lingered on his plush mouth. “Hi.” [Y/N] said.

“Hello,” Coriolanus replied, cocking his head. “That dress really is something else,” he said. His eyes wandered grotesquely over her body. “What did your family think?”

“Barely saw my mother. She was at the bottom of a bottle of posca. Father thought my corset was too loose.” She wiped the remaining wet spots from tears off of her cheeks.

Coriolanus nodded knowingly. “Ah, so you can follow instructions. It was him that locked you in that thing…” his eyes hadn’t moved from her breasts which threatened to spill from her top from laying at this angle. “May I help you out of it?”

She blushed red. “The note you left…” [Y/N] started. “Sweet, by the way. How did you know it was corseted. Did you peek?” She slurred.

“Lucky guess,” Coriolanus said too quickly for the remark to be truthful. “Do me a favor and obey your husband. Turn over. I want it off.”

[Y/N] popped off her memorable red heels and rolled gracelessly onto her stomach so that Coriolanus could undress her how he liked. He crept onto the bed and straddled her thighs with some difficulty from the dress’ bulk. His fingers got to work with the silk cord. [Y/N]’s ability to take low, full breaths increased with each movement of his nimble fingers. “Coryo, what’ll happen to that man from the bar…” [Y/N] quietly.

“That’s none of your concern. He’ll be dealt with for the way he spoke to you, don’t worry,” Coriolanus said, undoing the buttons of her dress now. “No one’s going to get away with speaking to my wife like that. Not now, not ever,” My wife, not you. Because he loved her and they were eternally bound. Or because she was an extension of his existence— nobody talked to him like that. Coriolanus manipulated her body like a doll to get her out of her wedding dress until she was down to her snow white lingerie and garters. “Fuck.” He said at the sight with eyes as wide as saucers.

“It’s adequate?”

“More than adequate,” In an instant, Coriolanus was on her. He was unclipping her garters and pulling her dampened lacy panties down. “You’ve outdone yourself, Mrs. Snow.”

“Fuck me. Please. Really. Not just fingers, or something.”

“Hm,” Coriolanus started. “I should marry you more often.”

Coriolanus pulled off his own trousers and boxers without complaint. [Y/N] sighed happily. “Tell me you love me.” She said.

“What?”

“I don’t care if you don’t mean it. Tell me you love me.” She stressed. [Y/N] wanted the silhouette of a normal wedding night even if it wasn’t one.

Coriolanus said his I love yous while he expertly rubbed [Y/N] clit, who cares if he was sincere or not. Neither one of them knew if he was sincere or not and either would do well enough.

The sex, however, was anything but transactional.

By the look of it, Coriolanus had long been hard in his pants. [Y/N] knew exerting some sort of power over that man at the bar in her honor would have gotten him all riled up. After noticing [Y/N] was already shockingly wet, he pressed his hands into the pillows beside her head and pushed his cock into her easily. “Damn. You’re so wet,” he grunted. Coriolanus scrunched his blue eyes shut. He began to set a pace; much slower than he normally would, less brutal too. He was gentle. Almost. Completely gentle was not a setting he came equipped with.

Coriolanus had never fucked [Y/N] without protection before (that [Y/N] could remember, at least). She made no move to stop him. They didn’t have any barriers left to worry about since they were married. Both silently agreed to never go back. He felt so much better in her this way.

[Y/N] moaned when his right hand moved between them to keep stimulating her. “Good, that’s good,” She said, reaching up to grip his shoulders. Her hands crept further up to grab his hair. She loved his hair, even if he fought hard against her about it so often. “Is this good for you?” [Y/N] whispered.

Coriolanus snapped his icy eyes open and plunged his head into her cleavage in reply. The lacy bra she wore was in his way, even if he thought it did [Y/N] beautiful favors. With one hand and his teeth, he ripped the bra right down the middle. “Better now,” he smirked darkly. Coriolanus slid one of her nipples past his lips. Coriolanus could conduct her moans and pants like a symphony. He knew exactly how to get his most desire response out of her. Coriolanus fucked and rubbed faster, but resisted sliding a hand around her throat and squeezing. At least for the first round as a married couple.

She could get used to the soft way he touched her. Mr. and Mrs. Snow. This caring front felt like it could almost last forever to [Y/N]. Too bad it was a front. She let out a high breathy gasp. The sound she knew he liked best.

Coriolanus was glad they had no plans tomorrow. One more sound like that and his hand would have no choice but to squeeze around her windpipe. She was always so beautiful like that. He changed his mind from weeks before as he looked at her from sucking at her nipples.

This is how he wanted to remember his Mrs. Snow. Makeup dripping, moaning beyond control, eyes rolled back and ripped and fucked out of her dress and lingerie. Because only he could make her feel like that for the rest of her life.

“I love you.” [Y/N] breathed, but she didn’t mean it, not really.

“I love you too.”

It was almost the truth.

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as always, apologies for the tags that did not work. love you all.

#evening reblog

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