#But he has to so that she can finally be safe

[syoddeye]

For some reason, the thought of reader being a werewolf too in the Soap neighbor thing seems like an ironic/funny idea. Like, maybe reader was bit and changed, but has no idea how to navigate the wolf world. I mean, you can't exactly google correct info on something that "isn't real". Plus, it's such a big world reader had never actually run into another wolf. It seemed safer for the reader to keep their secret werewolf existence hidden. Maybe reader's never seen another wolf before and likes their safe solitary little world. Only to then be confronted by Soap when they finally open their door.

ohhh. i like this twist. imagine you’re minding your business, living your recently upturned life, dealing with your new circumstances on your own. you’ve never seen another wolf before, other than the bastard who bit you, so you’re just figuring things out as you go. maybe keeping a journal or something like, “note to self: raw steak cravings = normal, do not eat neighbor’s cat.”

but then you smell them. someone like you. you catch whiffs of them at the building’s entrance. by the post boxes. on warm days when everyone’s windows are open. that’s the kind of day it is when you spot him on his balcony for the first time, and the thick scent of his sweat carries across the gap. there’s a certain doggish undertone to it.

the staring problem begins.

and it is humiliating.

it makes your instincts go haywire. you jot down feverish notes about what it does to you. how you keep finding yourself creeping through the blinds. it isn’t normal. none of it is normal. but you have no idea what to do. you can’t just outright ask, can you? hey, i smelled you from across the building and i really dig your musk.

of course, then you’re caught peeping, and he winds up at your door. you have to open it. what other choice do you have? you get the feeling it will open with or without your permission. you throw the deadbolt but keep the chain hooked out of some remaining shred of self-preservation. then you crack the door open.

it is pungent, to say the least. he didn’t even bother to throw a shirt on. looks like he ran here, too, judging by his heaving, hairy chest. he stares down at you, unblinking, his mouth set in a line. you go tongue-tied. he must be furious.

after a beat, he plants a hand on the door and gives it a push. just a nudge. but it’s enough—the flimsy chain strains, pops out of its track, and snaps into pieces. you don’t look down when it lands on your feet. you’re too busy watching the slow curl of his smile. his nostrils flaring.

“...yer jokin’. a pretty she-wolf? right under my nose?”

[dreamersparacosm]

𐙚₊˚⊹ flustered!jk and cheeky!reader 𐙚₊˚⊹

warnings ; talk of sexual activity, reader is flirty as hell

prompt ; in which you give him the proposition of a lifetime.

“You ever gotten road head before?”

And that’s a lot for Jungkook on a Friday night at 2 a.m.

The words leave your mouth like a drunken dare. Slurred just enough to qualify as inadmissible in court, but sharp enough to slice through the silence in his beat up Honda Civic.

He chokes on absolutely nothing — just air, his own saliva, probably the weight of existing too —and the car swerves slightly in response. His knuckles go white on the steering wheel, eyes flicking to you with full-body panic.

“What?” he manages, but it comes out like he swallowed the question halfway down his throat.

You bite your lip, grinning like the brat you are. “You heard me.”

He looks back to the road like it personally offended him, jaw locked, ears turning that very specific shade of holy shit she’s serious pink.

This is fun. Dangerous, maybe. But fun.

You’re curled up in the passenger seat, legs folded under you, a little too buzzed and warm, thanks to whatever was in that last green tea shot. Your dress is bunched high on your thighs, and his hoodie, stolen sometime around drink three, is drowning your frame. You look casual. But your heart is punching the inside of your ribs like it’s trying to break parole.

“I’m just saying,” you continue, tilting your head, “you drive like someone who hasn’t.”

He sputters. “What does that even mean?”

“It means,” you hum, stretching like a cat in the front seat, “you’re so tense. Both hands on the wheel. Ten and two. Obeying the speed limit like it’s a religion.”

“I—” he blinks rapidly, glancing at you again before darting his eyes back to the road. “I’m being safe. You’re drunk. I’m driving you home. Can you say… You’re welcome?”

“I didn’t say I wasn’t grateful,” you tease, smirking now. “I just think you’re overdue for a little character development.”

Jungkook exhales through his nose like he’s been victimized by your words. His grip tightens on the steering wheel, considering it’s the last thing tethering him to sanity. The curve of his jaw flexes under the fluorescent wash of a passing streetlight, and you wonder if he’s actually angry or just short-circuiting.

Probably the latter.

You lean in just a little. Not enough to do anything stupid.

“C’mon,” you say softly, voice lilting, teasing. “Never? Not even once?”

He gulps audibly. You watch the movement of his throat, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “No,” he mutters. “Jesus.”

“Wow,” you say, dragging the word out like sin. “So pure.”

“I’m not—”He shuts his mouth. You watch his knuckles flex again. “That’s not… God.”

You bite your cheek to stifle a laugh. This is better than expected. You’ve been harboring this tiny, stupid crush on him for months. Jungkook with his pretty mouth and shy eyes, always tripping over his own feet around you like you’re some kind of asteroid crashing into his orbit. And now? You’ve finally caught him mid-spin.

He clears his throat. “You’re so drunk.”

“You’re cute when you’re nervous.”

“Stop it.”

And maybe you should stop. Maybe you should let him keep his sweet-boy dignity and drop it, but… where’s the fun in that?

“You didn’t say you didn’t want it,” you reply, the grin blooming slow and wicked across your lips. “Just that it’s never happened.”

The car turns down your street mercifully. You see his shoulders rise and fall with the tension of someone who is praying for deliverance. Or a flat tire. Or spontaneous combustion.

He parks, throws the car in front of your building a little too aggressively, and finally looks at you. His voice is low when he says, “Get out of the car before I say yes.”

You blink. Smile fades just a fraction.

Oh.

So he has a mouth on him too.

You unbuckle slowly, heartbeat in your ears, and open the passenger door. But just before stepping out, you glance over your shoulder.

“Next time, Jungkook,” you murmur, lips quirking. “Hands at nine and three. You’ll need the leverage.”

And then you’re gone, vanishing into the night like a drunken menace, leaving him alone in the driver’s seat, still clutching the wheel like it just changed his life.

[w2soneshots]

Over the years -W2S

warnings: mentions of pregnancy.

summary: your and Harry’s relationship each year from twenty-sixteen to now through instagram posts.

notes: hello lovelies! For once this isn’t a request, thought of it all busy myself🙂‍↕️. I used Bella Hadid for the face claim (I usually don’t use just one person but it made sense for this)🫶🏼. Also, omfg did this take ages… one thousand photos and a week later I’m finally finished! Don’t forget to reblog and enjoy💞✨

2016... the year you became boyfriend and girlfriend

Liked by miniminter, zerkaa and others

y/username: love youuu @wroetoshaw

-comments-

wroetoshaw: love you more

-> y/username: 😋❤️

tobjizzle: ay! happy for u 2!

-> y/username: ty Tobes!!

y/nfanpage21: cuteeeee oh my gosh🫂

user: my two worlds colliding

y/username posted a new story!

2017... your first big holiday as a couple

wroetoshaw posted a new story!

Liked by wroetoshaw, freyanightingale and others

y/username: Italy🍝✨🇮🇹

-comments-

callux: looks sick, hope you had a great time!

-> y/username: we diddd! best pizza ever😌

y/nfanpage21: this is adorable💞

user: Harry in the unicorn floaty lol

2018... festival season

Liked by calfreezy, behzingagram and others

y/username: drunk, covered in glitter and hot, but ready for some bangin music!🤸‍♂️☀️🍺

-comments-

wroetoshaw: definitely hot😉🔥

-> y/username: lmao smooth

reevhd: vibes = immaculate

y/nfanpage21: outfit on FLEEK🤭

user: she's so perfect for Harry omg

y/username posted a new story!

2019... London and the boys

wroetoshaw posted a new story!

Liked by tobjizzle, mollymae and others

y/username: 19 you've been good to me, see you all next year!!🎆

-comments-

wroetoshaw: ⛷️

taliamar: gorggg!💓

-> y/username: mwah😚

y/nfanpage21: I live for y/n with the sidemen boys

user: she's the original icon⭐️

2020... the virus

Liked by ksi, wroetoshaw and others

y/username: haven't posted in awhile, here's a few very uninteresting photos from my week🥞🤍 stay safe everyone and please STAY INSIDE!

-comments-

calfreezy: daily runs entered the chat

-> y/username: running buddy 4 life🏃‍♀️

y/nfanpage21: ahh we've missed you girly!!😭

user: Harry and his biohazard bag against the world

y/username posted a new story!

2021... new beginnings

Liked by behzingagram, taliamar and others

y/username: a random dog turned up on our front step today (he has been safely returned to his owner dw🐶), pleaseee can someone convince @wroetoshaw that this is a sign we should get a puppy😫🙏

-comments-

wroetoshaw: brilliant, now my dm's are filled with people asking if your pregnant (also no puppy)

-> y/username: omg shit, forgot to specify that that's my FOOD baby vs Faiths ACTUAL baby🤣 (we're getting a puppy)

faithlouisak: love u wifey

-> y/username: 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

y/nfanpage21: she's so unserious lmao the first and second pic

y/username posted a new story!

2022... the year he finally popped the question

Liked by sidemen, joeweller and others

y/username: we're engaged!! enjoy this dump from our week away, where I had NO idea I was going to become a fiancé hehehe💍💓

-comments-

wroetoshaw: only took me 7 years

-> y/username: not bad for you tbf babes😌🫶

tobjizzle: congrats again guys❤️

freyanightingale: AHHH! unbelievably happy for you y/n🥹💝

y/nfanpage21: our fav couples growing up

user: HE'S DONE IT!!!!

y/username posted a new story!

2023... bride and groom

Liked by chrismd10, wroetoshaw and others

y/username: random photos from my week + wedding prep commences!💫💝

-comments-

faithlouisak: SHE'S GETTING FUCKING MARRIED!!!🥳

-> y/username: hehe thank you once again for the cake girl, smashed the brief

callux: exiting stuff😯

y/nfanpage21: makeup... ate. hair... ate. cake... they ate it.

user: I can't WAIT to see what dress she picks

y/username posted a new story!

2024... the year you became mummy and daddy

Liked by wroetoshaw, dualipa and others

y/username: counting down the days until we meet baby girl...🎀🌟

-comments-

ksi: can't wait to spoil her😁

-> y/username: uncle JJ incoming...

faithlouisak: your GLOWING mama💕

y/nfanpage21: the book🥺

user: two youngest sidemen having a kid before the others lol💁‍♀️

y/username posted a new story!

2025... the life you've always dreamed of

y/username posted a new story!

Liked by zerkaa, faithlouisak and others

y/username: right where I want to be💌

-comments-

wroetoshaw: my beautiful girls

-> y/username: love u💞

taliamar: brill, got Mushu trying to eat my strawberry😂

-> y/username: he stood there for a good ten minutes, bless him. maybe next time buddy🥲🐕

y/nfanpage21: oh... to have her life

user: fun fact: this was posted exactly nine years from their first couple post, how cute❤️‍🩹

[grandlinedreams]

Notes ㅡ hi it's literally been forever but I work anywhere from 40-70+ hours a week now and only get 2 days off every 2 weeks and now I'm on vacation for a week w nothing to do but write >:3

Warnings: none, fluff!, dad!Cass, could be seen as Archeron sister!reader, or Rhys sister!reader, if you want

“And these are stars – you see these a lot, don’t you? When mama brings you out here while rocking you to sleep, and she asked your Aunt Feyre to paint your room with them before you were even born – but this is special because now you’re getting to see them with your dad.” 

Cassian isn’t necessarily trying to be quiet with the way he talks, back to the open door of the balcony as he sways side to side, gentle rhythm mindful of the bundle cradled in his arms. Tiny and made of every ounce of love between himself and his mate, his daughter babbles up at him as he talks, and he grins.

“You like it when dad talks, don’t you? You don’t understand a word I’m saying yet, but that’s okay. Your dad likes to talk.” He strokes a finger against a baby soft cheek, warm and plump, and he’s struck by just how small she is. 

(“She’s a baby,” you’d told him when he’d made the comment the first time, when he’d been terrified to hold her because she was so small and new and for the first time in a long time, Cassian had been terrified – of his newborn daughter. Because he was afraid he was going to hurt her and what kind of father would he be if the first thing she knew of him was pain? But then he’d gotten to hold her, and oh.)

She gurgles, a toothless gape of smile that has his heart melting over again. He adjusts her, mindful of her head, then looks back up at the sky. “You know, when you’re big enough and your mom is less likely to kill me, I’ll teach you how to use those wings of yours. Because right now they’re little just like you.”

He pauses, listening to the approach of footsteps – and he doesn’t need to turn around to know who it is, aware of that gentle tug on the bond. “Speaking of your mama…”

“There you two are,” you intone as you step closer, watching as Cassian finally turns enough to give you a smile. “What are my two favorite people up to?”

“Just having a little daddy-daughter date,” he says, smile tugging at his lips when all you do is shake your head fondly. He adjusts your child to be safely cradled in one arm, the other reaching out to tuck you into him so he can kiss the top of your head. It’s a peaceful moment, having the two that mean the world to him so close, safe and sound. “You know…I don’t think I’ll ever be able to thank you enough.”

You blink, lifting your head enough to meet his gaze. Your brow knits. “For what?”

 “For accepting the bond, for giving me our daughter.” His voice quiets, his expression soft. “For everything.” 

You stare at him for a moment, then lean up to kiss him. The contact is soft and gentle, mindful of the baby – but you savor the warmth of his mouth on yours all the same, aware of the thrumming of the bond, the emotion that almost makes you want to cry. You love him, adore him – and the life that the two of you have built, the things you’ve worked so hard for, fought for.

Cassian keeps you close when you break the kiss, his lips pressing to your forehead. “Thank-you,” he murmurs again. “For loving me.”

[cosmerelists]

If Cosmere Characters Were Given Three Wishes From a Genie...

As requested by anon. :)

[A few of the jokes in this are WAT spoilers! They are marked in the entry title in case you need to skip 'em]

Cosmere characters have just rubbed a magic lamp and now they're being offered three wishes by a genie! How will that go for them?

1. Steris

Genie: There are three rules! Genie: I cannot kill anyone, I cannot bring anyone back to life, and I cannot make anyone fall in love. Steris: (Taking notes) Can I wish for more wishes? Genie: No. Steris: Can I wish for someone else to have more wishes? Genie: Also no. Steris: Can I cancel a wish in the future if I no longer want it? Genie: ...no. Steris: Can I modify a wish after wishing it? Genie: ...no. Steris: I see. Steris: My first wish, then, is to help you create an actual Wish Rule Handbook because that, I'm afraid, is a lot more than three rules. Steris: Let's get drafting! Genie: Why am I afraid

2. Kelsier

Kelsier: Three wishes? Amazing! Kelsier: First, I'd like to finally obtain the exact physical body I've been dreaming of all these years! Kelsier: Second, I'd like Scadrial to be utterly protected from the nefarious designs of Odium or any other hostile Shard. Kelsier: And third, I'd like Hoid to stub his toe every day for the rest of his life. Kelsier: Phew! That was way easier than what I've been doing! Kelsier: I can't believe I wasted hundreds of years on machinations, ha ha! Genie: ... Kelsier: What?

3. Szeth [Mild WAT spoilers!]

Szeth: (suspiciously) Wishes? Szeth: As in, things that I personally want? Szeth: What is this, some kind of therapy? Szeth: Away with you! Genie: H-Hey, if you want to wish for some therapy, it sounds like that might be kind of helpful for you? Szeth: Away, I say! Genie: Well, I tried.

4. Taravangian

Taravangian: [slams a 400-page tome down on the table] Taravangian: This is my first wish--it includes caveats for every possible loophole, bad faith interpretation, and/or unintended consequence. Taravangian: I declare that this whole book constitutes the sum total of Wish #1. Genie: ...Which is? Taravangian: I'd like Hoid to stub his toe every day for as long as he lives. Genie: ... Genie: That wish required 400 pages?! Taravangian: I like to be thorough.

5. Vin

Vin: I would like to always have the exact metal or metals I desire in my flask as soon as I desire them. Vin: I'd also like Elend to feel a surge of reassurance that yes of course I love him whenever he feels doubt. Genie: Two very fine wishes. What is your third? Vin: Hmmm.... Vin: Honestly, I just keep thinking that I'd like to be faster than a horse. Genie: ...Like, horses in general or one specific horse? Vin: Just...horses in general. Genie: ...It's not the weirdest wish I've heard today.

6. Adolin [WAT SPOILERS!]

Adolin: Oooh, I've always wanted the ability to point at an outfit in a fashion magazine and instantly have that outfit in my perfect size. Genie: Granted! Adolin: I'd also like Shallan to be brought here safely to Azimir if that's what she wants--like, please ask her first just in case. Genie: Granted! Adolin: ... Adolin: I would also like everyone to think I gave those wishes in the reverse order. Genie: Granted! Adolin: Wait, does that count as a wish?? Adolin: ... Adolin: No, actually I'm okay with that.

7. Azure

Azure: I would like to know where Nightblood is, please. Azure: I've been looking for so long! It's IMPOSSIBLE to find! Genie: [silently hands her a map] Azure: ... Azure: IT'S BEEN ON ROSHAR THE WHOLE TIME?!

8. Lightsong

Lightsong: You grant three wishes, huh? Lightsong: I can only grant one wish. And I have to die to do it. Genie: That's a tough break. Lightsong: Well, to be fair I live a life of luxury and worship, rather than being trapped in a tiny lamp. Genie: I appreciate that. Many people treat my abilities as frivolous, wishing for things they could obtain for themselves if they tried or for things they should never truly have. Genie: It is a genuine relief to meet someone who understands the true import of wishes. Lightsong: ... Lightsong: I was gonna wish for you to hand me that glass so I don't have to get up, but now it feels awkward. Genie: ... Lightsong: I'm just really comfortable right now.

9. Kaladin

Kaladin: [muttering to himself] Can't wish for all of my friends to be safe. They'd probably be magically locked in a room forever or something. Kaladin: I could wish for Oroden to grow up happy, but what if that means he dies if he gets sad or something? Or like loses the ability to feel things? Kaladin: I could wish for Moash to go back to how he was, but how could I take away his ability to make choices? Kaladin: It's too much! I don't want any wishes! Genie: Uh....granted? Kaladin: Did that count as a wish???

10. Venli

Venli: I wish for your freedom. Genie: ... Genie: As your first wish? Venli: Yup. Genie: Not as, like, your third wish after you obtain two other wishes? Venli: Nah. Genie: W-Who are you?? Venli: I'm a Willshaper, baby. Tumi: [hums contentedly]

[whateverisbeautiful]

Piggybacking off that other post about Rick protecting Michonne. Could you do a top list of this for moments in TWD and TOWL?

Aw yeah! I can think of so many ways that Rick protected Michonne and vice versa - both physically and emotionally. But I figured I could do a list right here of some of the notable moments that Rick more physically protected Michonne throughout the seasons 😊⬇️:

Pre-Canon

Starting with pre-canon - In Season 3, I always like how in Clear, Rick and Michonne both have a moment of looking out for each other when having close calls with Morgan’s booby traps. Michonne warns Rick about the welcome mat and he stops her from stepping on a wire on the stairs. 

In Season 4, Rick does what he has to do to stop those Claimers from assaulting her and Carl both in that house in 4.11 and in their final confrontation with the Claimers in the season 4 finale. 

In Season 5, we see Rick’s protective side with Michonne even more. Rick wanting Michonne to stay with Carl and Judith while he and others retrieved Beth and Carol, felt like not only does he want his kids to stay safe at the church but he wants Michonne safe with them too.

And then in 5.09, he’s super aware of Michonne’s feelings while in Noah’s neighborhood and seems eager to offer her some comfort in varying ways - from light arm taps when she’s visibly disappointed to agreeing to go to Washington after she makes her case on why they should go. And there’s a more blatant moment of protection in this 5.09 episode when Michonne swings her sword at a walker but it has a rod in its neck so Rick quickly comes to help her. Rick’s also protective when he runs after her as they fight those walkers at night in 5.11. 

Post-Canon

Then in Richonne’s post-canon era, some memorable moments of Rick protecting Michonne is him being adamant about getting to her during Negan’s first ASZ visit in 7.04 and getting her to give up the gun so that it can’t backfire and lead him to lose her.

It always feels protective in Say Yes, when Michonne sees the deer and goes to get a gun then Rick wakes up and, even though she tries to assure him he doesn't have to be worried, he still runs after her. And when Michonne is dazed thinking she lost him later in the ep, Rick makes his way out and makes it a priority to get Michonne’s sword to her.

And I love the protectiveness of the way he holds her in their iconic hug.

In 7.15, we don’t even get to see Rick and Michonne have too many scenes together but the scenes they do have features signature protective Rick as he helps Michonne up the tree and ensures she’s good. There were so many tasks to be done that day and I love that making sure Michonne was safe in that tree was a task Rick wanted to take on personally.

And then in 7.16, the comforting way Rick is with Michonne when he and Carl run to find her after the fight is so heartwarming and the way he stays by her side as she recovers in the infirmary is great and protective too. 

In season 8, I appreciate the big and little acts of protectiveness like Rick running after Michonne to help extinguish the place that Carl used to sit and helping her see they have to go as the walkers swarm the place more and more.

In that same 8.10 episode, Rick makes a shield out of a door for Michonne and the way he hands it to her always feels so sweet and protective.

I also love the protective act of Rick wiping Michonne’s tears when he finds her crying while reading Carl’s letter to her. It was a really touching way to see him want to be there for her emotionally even with him being in such emotional disarray himself. 

TOWL

Then TOWL came along and as the previous anon said, it really spotlighted Rick’s protectiveness of Michonne, especially physically which was great. Even as early as 1.01 when Rick learns Okafor knows about Michonne and Judith and he starts throwing hands knowing they could be in danger if Okafor and any more of the CRM know about his wife and daughter.

Then in 1.02, Rick quickly comes up with the plan for Michonne to adopt a new identity in order to protect her from the CRM. And he continually reassures her that he’ll find a way to break them out and keep her safe.

In 1.03, the way Rick convinces Pearl to vouch for “Dana", the way he is prepared to take out Pearl in that arena when he thinks she might attack Michonne, and the way he gets in front of Pearl’s gun without hesitation while out in those foggy woods are all signs of Rick's protectiveness.

As well as Rick making that getaway plan for Michonne and going ahead of her to clear the path and ensure her escape is as smooth as possible and then helping Michonne push that RDIM and taking her hand to lead her away from it when it’s about to go off.

I also always love seeing Rick immediately reach for Michonne to shield her when the RDIM does go off.

Probably one of the most visible acts of physical protection is when Rick runs after Michonne in the apartment in 1.04 and shields her with his body when the glass breaks and comes flying.

Rick also is very protective when she coughs in that red lit hall and later when her leg is trapped under the chandelier and he’s determined to stay by her side and get her unstuck. 

In 1.05, Rick setting up that trip wire in that cabin is one of the ways he keeps her safe and in 1.06, there are wordless protective moments like taking Michonne’s hand as they walk toward the tent with Pearl aiming a gun at them and later when Rick makes sure Michonne gets up on the platform before himself. 

I was just thinking the other day about how much I love that Rick fell in love with Michonne for the person she is, not just the asset she is. She’s so much more than just the powerhouse samurai some characters and viewers reduced her to. She has such a refreshing multidimensionality, and Rick saw that and fell hard for her in all her layers. Hence, the Michonne in Rick’s TOWL dreams was so smiley and warm. And I love that Rick admired how capable Michonne is while also feeling so eager to protect her and keep her safe, as evidenced in all these moments and more. 👌🏽😌

[stinkycheeselady]

SotR has really changed my perspective on the other games that we know very little about. Johanna for sure comes to mind. Katniss describes Haymitch’s games pretty in detail during CF and we know from both that and Haymitch’s description during the Victor ceremony that the game makers downplay his time in the arena significantly. They make it look like he spent pretty much the entire games walking north toward the edge of the arena, only being deterred from his goal when Maysilee saves him from Panache— but we know that’s just government propaganda to cover up the fact that he conducted himself like an absolute nightmare tribute. Too involved in the lives of his “enemies.” Too much empathy. Too much humanity and hatred for the Capital.

Do we really believe, after seeing how MUCH Haymitch’s games were edited by the time Katniss and Peeta watch them in CF, that Johanna actually hid during her games until the very end?

I think it’s safe to assume that her family suffered a similar fate to Haymitch’s, and we know by the time CF rolls around she’s angry. She’s so angry AND she doesn’t care who knows anymore. “He can’t hurt me, there’s no one left that I love.”

It also makes me question Beetee’s games. He won by electrocuting the final 6 tributes. Or at least, that’s what the Capital has told us, but the version of Beetee that we’ve known since CF has seemed too smart to do anything without an ulterior motive. I assume that his first game was his first attempt to “take out the brain.”

It also makes me question Annie’s games - did she really self isolate leading up to the finale? It’s what we’ve been told, but we know the editors love to use that line. Also, an “earth quake resulting in a flood”? Beetee YOU ARE A MENACE

I think part of the brilliance of SOTR is that it’s made me want to engage with the original trilogy in a way that I haven’t in well over a decade. Over and over and over again the rebellion tried to set themselves free. There is a rich text here of failing and hoping and waiting and suffering. And then along comes Katniss and she is not the chosen one she is not the Girl on Fire in any meaningful way, she is just a person who carries the same hurt as the other district citizens. She is just a girl who doesn’t know, who can’t know, about the boys and girls who have come before her and have tried as hard as they can to eat the berries. To not let the capital win.

Ugh. I want to kiss Suzanne Collins square on the mouth I loved this book so much. It hurts so good.

[trstalks]

Age gap BDSM moonwater

Regulus is in his late 20s and has been in the BDSM scene since he was like- 21. He’s an experienced dom and owns a club with Barty and Evan. (Barty and Evan would 100% get up on stage and teach people how to practice BDSM safely) (sub!Barty and dom!Evan)

Remus is in his late 30s, possibly early 40s, and he’s a college professor who really needs to find a way to unwind. He probably hears about the club from Lily (she’s def a frequent visitor) and he’d finally gather up the courage to go because he’s always been curious about it.

Regulus spots him when he comes in and threatens literally everyone else IMMEDIATELY because he’s like that one! Is mine!

-Regulus would go slow with him, but he’s 100% getting off on being the first one to introduce him to the scene

-Remus isn’t an innocent virgin, but he might as well be with how flustered he gets about it all

-Regulus has Remus watch rosekiller every time they do a demonstration so that he can learn more. They always go up to Regulus’ room after to try out what they just watched

-they fall in love and get married, and ALSO have a collaring ceremony (they collar each other, naturally. Remus has a play collar that’s very extravagant, but their day collars are just those braided bracelets.

I can’t get middle aged blushing and submissive Remus out of my head with younger dominant Regulus… please tell me you see the vision.

[the-light-finds-its-way]

Ok ok ok hold up here. Prev tags for this, you're onto something legit!!!

So I'm a Norse pagan. Have been for a decade now.

The Osmium siblings remind me a LOT of the tales of Ragnarok, specifically regarding Fenrir, Tyr, Odin, Loki, Jormungandr, and Nidhogg.

Odin is the god of knowledge. He is the pathfinder, the god of guidance and safe voyages. His whole tale is one about sacrifice for knowledge. He gives one eye to Mimir in order to gain all the knowledge in the universe, and then hangs from Yggdrasil to learn magic that was, until then, reserved for women. Odin himself presented as a woman to learn the magic as he did.

This reminds me much of Oryx. He is the sibling who begins as Aurash, a woman, but then becomes Auryx upon gaining purpose seeking knowledge. Then he finally becomes Oryx, the Hive God of Knowledge. Oryx is literally eternally commanded by his worm to continuously seek knowledge to the bitter end, even at the fault of everyone else. Oryx is seen as a monstrous beast who kills and destroys and ruins in his quest for knowledge, even slaughtering most of his children.

All the same, Odin is not always a pleasant god. He is often scheming and very dubious, he can see all things that are, were, will be, etc. And one of these plans was with Fenrir.

Fenrir is the god of destruction, ruin, and endings. He is an all-powerful, fearsome wolf that is meant to be respected and honored as much as utterly feared. He hungers greatly, bound in chains.

What happened was that Tyr, the god of justice, loved Fenrir as a pup and saw innocence in him. Yet Odin schemed greatly against Tyr and convinced him that Fenrir would become twisted and evil, he would lash out and hurt and never stop hurting. Thus Tyr was convinced to try and stop Fenrir despite the fact that he was oathbound to be just and lawful. As a result he lost his arm, and Fenrir became the fearsome beast of legend, chained away to prevent the end. Raganrok.

That shceming and lying reminds me of Savathun. She is the goddess of lies. The witch queen. She can shapeshift into many forms, and so few of the words she says can be trusted. She is bound by her worm to lie forever and scheme and trick to the bitter end.

Thus she actually brings in a lot of aspects of Loki all the same. More so, in my opinion, than she does aspects of Odin. Because Loki always schemes and plans. In one legend, they (I refer to Loki with they/them pronouns because I respect their fluidity) had been tasked by Odin to stop a craftsman who was building a wall around Asgard within a certain set of time. If he completed it, he would marry Freyja. Becsuse Odin did not want to give her up, he had Loki shapeshift and intervene to prevent the wall's completion within this time frame.

Loki once stole Thor's hammer and it was lost to giants who took it for a game. They then crafted a plan for Thor who would dress as a bride and "marry" the giant wherein during the ceremony, he could take the hammer and kill all the giants to escape. That's what went down.

Loki is the scheme master, the trickster, the god of change and chaos who, like Savathun, is unpredictable and often lies throughout the myths. They, and Savathun, host many many similar traits.

And then Fenrir. The giant wolf of the ultimate war. Ragnarok. An end to all things, and the most honored fight that one can be granted the right to participate in alongside the gods themselves. Fenrir is impossible in strength, and he does not cease his rage and wrath. He is fury incarnate, the embodiment of pure violence in many aspects.

Xivu Arath is the sibling of war. She is the murderous one who, even in the Books of Sorrow, was shown killing her siblings again and again and again and again. She did not stop. Her killing was relentless. She slaughtered so much of Fundament, and much of the universe has quivered in terror at the presence of Xivu Arath because of her reputation for violence and murder.

Just as Fenrir.

Now. Nidhogg and Jormungandr are also known as the World Serpents. Both of them are literally giant snakes.

Jormungandr is the serpent who encircles Earth/Midgard and bites his tail. If he lets it go, there will be a seismic wave so massive that Midgard will be destroyed. It's one of the key moments that determines Ragnarok.

Nidhogg is similarly entangled at the roots of Yggdrasil which is the World Tree. If he breaks free from those roots, the dead Draugr rise, and Ragnarok begins.

These snakes are also called "wryms". Said like "worms".

Worms like those that control the Osmium Siblings.

The three siblings are sort of huge proponents to the end. The Final Shape. Their fate was foretold from many many many ages past, and is controlled by the worms.

Just as Ragnarok is, largely, given many symbols of its beginning including the wyrms Jormungandr and Nidhogg.

When Ragnarok starts, the very name of the horn that is blown to signify the start is "Gjallarhorn". It is literally the horn of Ragnarok.

And Destiny has a weapon called Gjallarhorn.

What's more is Yggdrasil itself. I always noticed the Iron Banner symbol is very similar to how it's commonly depicted. But that was the Iron Lords symbol initially.

And the Iron Lords were THE first Guardians. They were the Lightbearers before Guardiand became a thing.

Yggdrasil exists to show us we are all connected together at the heart of the universe and that we all come from the same bark, the same tree, the same earth so to speak. In this context, the Iron Lords are the precursor and yet Guardians, and the world, exists beyond the Dark Ages becsuse of them. We all stem from the roots of the beginning which was the Iron Lords.

Even with the symbol for them showing 2 wolves.

Wolves like Fenrir.

A wolf like the Young Wolf.

The one Guardian who shows us destiny is forged by Guardians.

And the Norns are, in Norse mythology, three women, often depicted as old crones, who weave fate and are its crafters and masters. These three women, sometimes even referred to as Wyrd (said like "weird") women, are the sole perpetrators of what is to come. They write the fates of all things living, inanimate, dead.

The Norns are the crafters of destiny.

Guardians are the crafters of destiny. Hence the name of the games. Hence the line of "Guardians create their own destiny."

The entire game series is an entire representation of how cause and effect, life and death, are all intertwined and that, any action, no matter what it is, can have devastating effects.

There is tragedy with the Osmium Siblings who cause deceit, ruin, end, death, and fear. You have the Guardians who are chosen in the same way Valkyries choose the fallen. Raising them up literally to be the ultimate warriors, akin to the Einherjar. The fact that the game has added weapons and symbols deliberately inspired by Norse mythology as well as used much Norse iconography is, clearly, no mistake.

I didn't remember where the fuck I was going with this. But I hope this brings up... something. Ideas to think about at least.

Sorry to go off on your post. Rip.

The Three Fates

My first piece for the @swordlogiczine <3 You can find the full zine here

[frudoo]

Previous Part | Slasher!141 Masterlist

Warnings: Blood, murder, gore - the usual. Brief surgical procedure. Talk of healing and a surprise <3 As always, MDNI. This series is a dark!fic.

“Ye’re gonna dae grea’, hen,” Johnny whispers, pressing a long kiss to your temple. “Go’ the bes’ surgeon in the area f’ye.”

     “I’m scared,” you admit with a tear in your eye, looking down at the IV hooked up to your arm.

     “Ah kno’, lass,” your husband coos, squeezing your hand tightly. “Bu’ ah swear ye’ll be fine, and after ye ‘eal, we c’n finally try fer a bairn, aye?” 

     That brings a soft, yet still hesitant, smile to your face. You’re not in a hospital, in the OR with an entire team working to give you this transplant. You’re not even in a medical setting at all. No, you’re home, at the barn, laying on a plastic-covered mattress in a room that all of your lovers emptied so that their latest victim would have a cleaner area to work with. Simon and Gaz spent all day cleaning the floor and walls and ceiling, then covering every inch of the room with more sheets of plastic to mock a sterile-enough environment. They know for a fact that each tool and glove in the surgeon’s bag is truly sterile, still in the packaging it all came in.

     Price took care of the woman who would be donating her uterus to you. She was healthy when he found her—and, well, she wouldn’t exactly be needing it now, would she? He took her apart piece by piece until the one organ required was in his grasp. He fed the other parts to the pigs after putting the uterus on ice. 

     Johnny spent the day prepping you. He has enough knowledge about anaesthetics to safely put you under and monitor you for the entire process. He focused on making sure that this is really what you wanted, essentially taking the role of counselor. When he knew you were serious about wanting this, he helped you bathe and braided your hair before leading you into the room where the surgery would take place.

     Now, Simon lingers against the back wall, his looming presence there to make sure that the woman doesn’t try any funny business like trying to escape or, worse, harming you. Johnny stands by your side to play the same protective role, but in addition, he’s making sure your doses are perfect and you will be safe and unaware of any pain. The surgeon has been fed and—threatened—told the rundown of what exactly their expectations are. If something goes wrong and you end up hurt, it’s game over for her. If all goes well, she’ll be able to return to life normally as long as she never speaks a word about any of this. 

    “Alreit, hen, ‘ave a nice nap,” Johnny murmurs as you feel the anaesthesia take control of your body.

     “Where is the… cadaver?” The surgeon questions, hands held out by her sides to avoid touching anything.

     “Don’ worry, the bear already chopped ‘er up f’ya,” Simon snickers, nodding toward the cooler adjacent to the mattress. “Healthy bitch, she was. Perfec’ f’our girl.”

     The surgeon shuts her eyes and breathes deeply, trying to will the nausea building in her to dissipate. Cautiously, she lifts up the lid of the cooler to find a uterus on a metal tray sitting atop a bed of ice. She hates to admit that it is in perfect condition. Now she has no excuse—there’s no getting out of completing the procedure. She shuts the lid and grabs her scalpel, cutting a clean line right below your navel and opening you up.

     Neither Simon nor Johnny can stand to see the sight. They’re accustomed to blood and gore, but seeing their sweet girl’s insides is not something they can stomach. Johnny cradles your face in his hands, focusing on the peaceful sleep that adorns your gorgeous features. Simon keeps an eye on the woman, watching her like a hawk to ensure that she’s doing everything right. Not that he knows exactly what the fuck she’s supposed to be doing.

     The entire process takes about an hour and a half—nothing compared to the healing process, which takes months and a shit-ton of medicine. You’re in pain for the majority of it, and it shatters the guys’ hearts. They don’t leave your side even for a moment, and if you have to move, they carry you. It’s absolutely fucking miserable.

     But it’s ultimately worth it. 

     It’s a random Saturday in April, nearly eight months post-op, when you gather up all four of your lovers into the living room. They’ve already suspected you. No matter how quiet or discreet you try to be, they never fail to hear you stumble into the bathroom at odd hours to puke your guts up. You haven’t been eating anything besides toast and the occasional pile of scrambled eggs, and as Johnny pointed out to Kyle one night while they watched you slip on a suddenly too-tight nightgown, your breasts have gotten larger. You’ve also been so sensitive, physically and otherwise. They already know, but they want to hear you say it.

     You suck in a deep breath, biting the inside of your cheek in an attempt to hide your excitement. You took the test a few days ago, but they’ve all been so busy and today’s the first chance you got to get them all together. Their eyes look up at you expectantly, and you can no longer hold back the good news.

     “I’m pregnant,” you say calmly, watching their eyes light up. 

     There’s barely any time to blink before Johnny is running at you, scooping you up into his arms and spinning you around with tears in his eyes. You shriek out a giggle, holding onto his shoulders for dear life as he peppers kisses to every inch of skin he can reach. John and Kyle bicker over who gets to hug you next, but Simon steals you out of the Scot’s arms before either of them. You cup his pretty, pale face in your palms, bringing his face closer and pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

     “You’re a dad, Si,” you whisper, smoothing out his furrowed brow with your thumb.

     “Sweet’eart, y’kno’ I can’t-”

     “Simon, this baby is just as much yours as it is the others’. Blood means nothing,” you assure him.

     Your blond boy looks at you for a moment before he lets out a raspy sob and he hugs you tighter to his chest, burying his face in your neck. You let him hold you like that for the rest of the night. You need it just as much as he does. Kyle and John each press a loving kiss to your lips to show their excitement but don’t dare try to take you away from Simon. 

     Nothing in this world could pull you away from him, from them. Not now. Not ever. You have everything you’ve ever wanted, and you plan to give them your appreciation until the day you die.

[sleepysmore]

puppyreg! misty quigley headcanons for myself!!

he/she pronouns for misty, autistic misty (mostly just stimming and hyperfixations), with some cg! nat (he/him pronouns)... div by @strangergraphics

notes: eeeek first time properly writing out headcanons like this i am kinda nervous.... ໒꒰っ˕ -｡꒱১ nobody look at them!! /j they are so so self indulgent but i'm trying to remember thats ok ! sorry if this is too ooc or anythin.. (but really i hope u guys like them bc i love puppy misty so much she's just like me !!)

☆ misty has always been very secretive about her regression out of fear of getting made fun of, but post crash, it was kind of inevitable that somebody figured it out.. that someone happened to be nat !! he stumbled upon misty in the woods one day chewing on her sleeve and kicking his feet (wagging his tail).. she looked up at nat with his big teary puppy dog eyes and nat immediately had an idea of what was happening (<- flip! nat is real to me..)

☆ misty doesn't like to cry but she couldn't help bawling his eyes out ૮ ◞ ﻌ ◟ ა nat hesitantly pat him on the back "there there..? um.. it's ok, misty, i'm not gonna tell anyone" which seemed to work !! still sniffling but no longer in tears, she clung onto nat while calming down ૮ ˶´ ᵕˋ ˶ა

☆ ever since that day misty has practically been attached to nat !! that's his papa... whenever possible they like to sneak out into the woods so misty can go play in private !! she loves running around and telling nat whatever random fun fact pops into his head.. "oh !! did you know that bloodhound's sense of smell is so accurate that it can be used as evidence in court ?? crazy stuff huh ???"

☆ she knows SO many dog facts ... i can imagine her pre crash laying on her floor with books about dogs sprawled out in front of her !! it's one of her favorite things to learn about besides medicine !! ૮ ˆﻌˆ აﾉ” she's probably read every dog book in the library...

☆ misty is the energetic puppy ever... he's always stimming somehow !! she loves to kick her feet to mimic wagging her tail and she also is a big barker.. and he chews on EVERYTHING !! his sleeves, blankets, pretty much anything he can get her paws on...

☆ he has a small collection of handmade toys that he cherishes!! his favorite is a little dog plush made from a sock that lottie made her.. it goes EVERYWHERE with him it's her biggest comfort item ever !!

☆ once misty almost lost it on accident and was practically inconsolable until it got back ... lottie and nat had to gather a few others to go searching all of misty's usual spots to find it again, and when they finally did it just wound up being sat by the lake, safe and sound !! nat now makes it a point to ask if he has his little buddy before they go back to camp ૮ ˆﻌˆ ა

☆ misty has always been sensitive, but it's much more obvious when she's regressed ૮ ◞ ﻌ ◟ ა she cries a lot and will usually cry more out of embarrassment cuz she hatesss crying around people ... its easy to hurt his feelings on accident, so she needs a lot of reassuring and care !! this puppy needs a lot of time and comforting !!

☆ when she finally gets tired out from a long day of playing, she loves to nest in blankets like a little dog bed.. he gathers up all his pillows and blankets and cozy things and makes a little nest to curl up in !! sometimes if she's lucky nat will lend an extra pillow or blanket to maximize the comfyness.. misty the cozy puppy that you are..

[valacre]

: ̗̀➛ Invisible Visitors

Sentinel Prime x Reader - Transformers One

The storm has passed, the lightning and the thunder a thing of the past, and yet, there is a creeping unease in the air. It is heavy, thick and uncomfortable, and Sentinel tries to think of it as just the humidity that lingers after heavy rainfall, but no, it is not that.

Still wrapped tightly within your blankets, Sentinel hums in slow awakening as he rubs his cheek against one of your pillows. The first time in your bed had been drastically different to what he had imagined, but it’d been warm and peaceful, nonetheless. Your scent surrounded him on all sides, and it helped in keeping him calm. You’d awoken long ago, anxious to tend to the chickens who had likely been terrified all night. The sound of them outside was reassuring, though Sentinel felt a twinge of jealousy as he heard you coo at them.

Ridiculous. He was being ridiculous.

It took great effort to leave the comforts of your bedroom, a sacred space in his optics that he’d been finally granted access to, but how much more after this night? It’d been a special situation; his processor and spark were so riddled with fear and love that he’d been a complete mess. You’d had no other choice than to take him with you to bed. He was not ashamed to admit that he didn’t regret how clingy he’d been when you finally laid down together.

A few unsteady steps down your narrow staircase he finally found his way outside again, seeing the world completely different than what it’d been last night. The sun was up, the sky clear of clouds, the wind a gentle but cold breeze.

Something clucked by his pedes and Sentinel looked down to see your fattest chicken pecking at the dirt, Isabella. Her white and brown feathers ruffled as she glanced up at him, the twitchy movement of her head amusing to look at. Without thinking, Sentinel picked her up and nestled her in the crook of his arm before approaching the chicken coop; nestled safely between two great trees which had little to no trouble with harsh winds, their giant roots digging deep and far for support.

You stood amongst the chickens, throwing feed over the ground for them to search and eat, smiling a little as you watched them scamper. The grumpy rooster watched Sentinel closely as he approached, the brute not at all liking him. For Sentinel, the feelings were mutual.

“How are you feeling?” You ask, hearing him approach.

“Better.” He said, setting Isabella down to allow her to eat. “I’m not crying like a sparkling anymore, at least.”

Shooting him a small smile, you give him the basket full of food for the chickens, urging him to throw it out for them. He does, and they go wild, flapping their wings and cooing excitedly. It made him smile a little.

“Wonderful, that means you’ll be ready to help me fix the barn today.”

“Oh… Actually, I feel a little faint. My processor is filled with fog and my frame aches. I must have come down with the rust plague, can you see any of it on me?” He asks, feigning fainting as he dramatically leans into you, nearly crushing you as you grunt in surprise at the sudden weight.

“Oh, stop it, you drama queen.” You huff and heave him up onto his legs, shocking him with your strength. A questionable look is shot your way, but you only return it with a smirk. “What? I might have a bad back, but my arms are quite strong.” And flexing your arms you catch his faceplate flushing at the sight of your muscles. It almost looks like he’s going to swoon. “Huh, impressed?”

“What?” Shaking his helm, he sends you an unimpressed look instead. “Well, I’ve seen better.”

“Uh-huh?” Grinning and raising a brow, you urge him to finish feeding the chickens as you go towards the barn. “Come and meet me in a bit. You’re going to help me with reinforcing the walls and the roof. Last night’s storm didn’t break anything, but if nothing is done then you’ll find yourself homeless before you know it.”

“Or I could just live inside with you?”

“Fat chance.”

“Ooh, so I have a chance, and it sounds like it’s fat too.”

“It’s cute how you think you’re funny.”

Wings bristling at your comment he hears you cackle as he chucks the basket your way, seeds going flying and you jumping out of the way, laughing harder. The chickens scramble after the scattered seeds and Sentinel grumbles as he goes to follow you, mumbling incoherent words in Cybertronian. He jumps in surprise as Isabella suddenly comes flapping up towards him; hysterical and screeching, though calming once he holds her.

“What’s wrong with you?” He asks her, though he knows he’ll receive no reply. She only looks around, her head twitching, eyes focused on the forest on the other side of the meadow across your farm. Optics focusing on the darkness beneath the canopy of the trees, he sees a shape standing; motionless.

A deer.

Sentinel snorts and looks down at Isabella again, ready to mock her cowardly nature but she jumps off before he can, scrambling back towards the chicken coop along with her sisters. They are all stressed and on edge.

“What’s happening over there?” You call from the barn, voice faint as you’re inside looking for tools.

“Just the chickens being afraid of nothing.” He says in reply, resuming his walk towards the barn but looking towards the forest as he does so. The deer remains where he first noticed it, motionless and still as a statue, black eyes staring. Odd, perhaps it is afraid of him.

Noon faded and all too quickly became the late evening. Blackness steadily fell upon the land and Sentinel groaned in annoyance at the wood dust coating his frame. He desperately needed a wash, though an oil bath sounded heavenly, but alas, he would not have that luxury but instead found himself on the other end of your garden hose.

“That water is freezing.” He complained and kept his optics shut as you hosed him down, chuckling as you pointed the stream this way and that. “I demand a proper shower in the barn.”

“Once we’ve finished the walls and the roof we can think about a shower for you.”

Sentinel opened his optics in surprise, though he quickly closed them again as water sprayed across his faceplate, making him frown in displeasure. “You’re doing that on purpose!”

“Maybe.” You say, grinning and turning off the water. “Don’t worry, we’ve finished cutting all the boards. We’ll get working with them once we’ve finished with the minor details on the roof tomorrow, and then we may begin on the inside with insulation and detailing. Maybe you’ll even get yourself a proper shower before winter ends.”

“Your tone is teasing. I hardly believe that will happen in the next few months.”

“Hah, you have no faith in me, and here I thought I might drive to the nearby town to get you some paint and polish as a reward for being so nice. Tsk, oh well—”

“Wait! No, really?” His optics are wide and hopeful even as droplets of icy water trickle and drip from his frame, and he approaches with an eager expression, though you step back to avoid getting wet. “Will you do that for me?”

“I told you I would, didn’t I?” You say, smiling at him as his optics soften and he smiles so sweetly it pulls at your heart. It made you feel warm inside; fuzzy. He’s cute.

“Embrace me, angel.” Sentinel suddenly said, smirking mischievously and quickly leaning forward. You scamper away with a curse and a yell, sprinting away and rounding the corner as you half-yell, half-laugh at his antics. He can’t help but laugh, too.

Moving to follow you, Sentinel briefly stops as his frame prickles and a sense of unease fills his processor, forcing him to look out past the trees of your back garden and towards the meadow. The deer. It has moved into the open and is easily spotted by him from between the few trees in your back garden.

It stands as it did when he spotted it between the trees of the forest, still as a statue, black eyes staring. However, now that it is closer, Sentinel can see that something is wrong with it. Its skin appears loose like it’s barely clinging onto its bones, and it’s stiff with its head turned unnaturally to the side.

There’s only the sound of the wind in the air. No birds.

Sentinel’s servo twitches and he focuses his optics on the deer, studying it. If it's diseased he must keep it away from your farm lest it harms either you or your precious chickens, but the deer don’t appear to mind him staring back at it. Its eyes don’t leave him, and that is when Sentinel notice how glassy they appear. Non-organic.

“God, you spooked me.” Came your voice and Sentinel nearly leapt out of his frame as he turned to see you peeking out from behind the corner of your house. You raised a brow at him, coming out a little. “You got so quiet I figured you were hiding so you could jump me.” You say, shaking your head.

Sentinel looks back towards the meadow, prepared to tell you about the deer, but it’s gone.

It’s gone.

Previous / Next Music: Vangelis – Création du monde (Remastered) & Ethel Cain – Perverts

[toxinoire]

I do hope after this episode we are given a proper episode where Marinette can think. Not be shoved into Ladybug or guardian duties or some filler ep, an actual episode where she contemplates.

Because fucking hell she needs to understand that HAS to tell the truth because it will not only be the best for Adrien actually, but also it will break the damn chain.

Adrien deserves to know, this is his trauma, and it's best for him to know so he can properly process.

And I also want him to confront Natalie and Felix who have kept this from him since childhood, and now that Gabriel is gone, nothing is stopping them from telling him.

But the issue is, until the writers decide to give Marinette a break, she will keep getting shoved into situations and fights and more things she has to carry that will make this harder. She needs to have that one, uncomfortable but proper break where she for once, has no Ladybug/guardian things to do in order for her to seriously think about her actions because right now, she's still on autopilot as Ladybug and the "keep everyone safe" things subconsciously, alongside her own trauma with Gabriel, and it's unconsciously destroying herself and others.

Give her ONE episode where she truly thinks about it all so she can finally understand the consequences her actions brought her.

Wow, literally, WOW.

Marinette's parents being the ones who tell Marinette about what lies are being told about her and what's going on because she would find out eventually anyway and this way they can be with her and talk about this painful development.

Marinette's herself asking for the truth and to be informed about whatever bad thing is happening and who's involved.

Marinette, it's almost like that's the right thing to be DOING here and not keep everything a secret from everyone so YOU don't have to feel uncomfortable about the fallout that is hardly about you anyway! Fucking listen to Alya! ALYA WHY ARE YOU OKAY WITH GIVING UP YOUR MEMORIES, FIGHT FOR JUSTICE PLEASE!

[ghstyles]

For Worse or For Worse

· · ─────────── ·𖥸· ────────── · ·

· · ─────────── ·𖥸· ────────── · ·

. WC: 6.3K

. Masterlist

· · ─────────── ·𖥸· ────────── · ·

Three days 

Three days and Harry was losing his mind. Why wasn’t she responding?

The silence stretched like an eternity. Harry paced the length of their bedroom, phone clutched in his hand as he checked, for what must have been the hundredth time that hour, to see if Y/N had responded to any of his increasingly frantic messages.

Nothing. Not since the brief text she'd sent when boarding her flight. Not a single call, message, or even a social media update to indicate she was okay.

"Fuck!" he swore, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "Something's wrong, I know it."

Grumps looked up from his spot on Y/N's side of the bed, where he'd been sleeping since she left. The cat whined softly, as if sharing Harry's concern.

Harry glanced at the clock—3:17 AM. He'd barely slept since Y/N left, his mind spiraling between anger, worry, and a creeping fear he couldn't shake. Each scenario his brain conjured was worse than the last.

Had she changed her mind about them? Had she decided their relationship wasn't worth pursuing after all? Or was something actually wrong: an accident, an illness, or something that prevented her from reaching out?

He's tried everything—calls that go straight to voicemail, texts that remain unread, even DMs on social platforms that show no sign of being seen. He’d have emailed but he remembered how she once said she rarely checks her email. He’s contacted the airline to confirm her flight landed safely (it did), and considered, in increasingly desperate moments, calling her mother's landline. Only his awareness of how that might seem has stopped him so far. He'd even swallowed his pride and called Jeff, asking if there'd been any unexpected media about Y/N that might explain her silence.

Nothing. It was as if she'd vanished.

Harry dropped onto the edge of the bed, his shoulders slumped with exhaustion and worry. Grumps shuffled over to rest his head on Harry's thigh, offering silent comfort.

"What if she's hurt?" he murmured, scratching behind the cat’s ears. "What if she needs me and I'm just sitting here like a fucking idiot?"

He groaned, falling back into the bed, the ache in his heart growing by the second.

What if the distance has given her perspective, made her realize that their relationship isn't what she wants after all? What if she's using this time away to figure out how to end things when she returns?

"No," he says aloud, rejecting the thought even as it threatens to take root. "That's not it. She wouldn't just disappear."

· · ─────────── ·𖥸· ────────── · ·

Three days earlier - Immediately after landing

Y/N exits the plane, already fumbling in her bag for her phone to call Harry as promised. Her fingers brush against empty fabric where her phone should be, causing immediate panic to rise in her throat.

"No, no, no," she mutters, stepping aside in the jetway to more thoroughly search her bag while other passengers stream past her. She empties the contents: wallet, passport, lip balm, headphones, gum—but no phone.

A flight attendant notices her distress. "Everything alright, miss?"

"I can't find my phone," Y/N explains, trying to keep her voice steady. "I think I left it on the plane."

The attendant helps her look, checking under seats and in seat pockets, but the device is nowhere to be found. A sinking realization hits Y/N—she must have dropped it at the airport, or worse, on the street outside Harry's house during their goodbye.

"I'm so sorry, but we don't have any unclaimed phones," the attendant finally says. "You can leave your information at the lost and found desk."

Y/N nods, thanking the woman despite her growing distress. Harry will be expecting her call. He'll worry when she doesn't reach out.

As she makes her way through the airport, her mother's familiar figure comes into view, waiting beyond security with an excited wave.

"Y/N!" her mother exclaims, pulling her into a tight embrace. "Oh, how I've missed you!"

Y/N returns the hug, momentarily distracted from her phone predicament by the warmth of her mother's embrace.

"I've missed you too, Mom," she says, meaning it deeply despite the undercurrent of anxiety about not being able to contact Harry.

As they collect her luggage, Y/N explains the situation. "I need to call Harry right away. He's expecting to hear from me."

Her mother frowns slightly. "We can try when we get home, but the landline's been acting up since the storm last week. Cell service at the house has always been spotty too, you know that."

Y/N's stomach drops. The costal location of her family home suddenly feels like an insurmountable obstacle.

"Maybe we can stop somewhere on the way? I just need to let him know I'm okay."

"Of course, dear," her mother assures her, though Y/N can see the slight puzzlement in her expression. Her mother still isn't quite convinced that her relationship with Harry is as genuine as Y/N has recently claimed.

___

Day One - Evening

Y/N sits on her childhood bed, frustration mounting as she tries again to place a call from the ancient family computer. The internet connection keeps dropping, the video call attempt failing for the third time.

"Any luck?" her mother asks from the doorway.

Y/N shakes her head, fighting back tears of frustration. "The connection's too weak for a call. I tried sending an email, but I don't even know if it went through."

Her mother sits beside her, placing a comforting hand on her back. "The repair company said they can't get someone out here until after the New Year. But Mrs. Peterson down the road has better service. We can drive over tomorrow and use her phone."

"He must be so worried," Y/N whispers, imagining Harry checking his phone repeatedly, wondering why she hasn't called as promised.

"If he cares for you as much as you say, he'll understand once you explain," her mother says, though Y/N doesn't miss the note of skepticism in her voice. The lingering doubt that Harry Styles could genuinely care for her daughter beyond their contractual arrangement.

Y/N doesn't blame her mother for the doubt. Until recently, she might have shared it. But after Christmas, after seeing the vulnerability in Harry's eyes when he spoke of their future...

"He does care," Y/N says firmly, more to herself than to her mother. "And I need to let him know I'm okay."

___

Day Two

The drive to Mrs. Peterson's house ends in disappointment when they discover the elderly woman has gone to stay with her daughter for the holidays. The local library, their next hope, is closed for renovations.

"The general store has a payphone," Y/N's younger brother suggests during dinner. "Old-school, but it works."

Hope flares in Y/N's chest. "We'll go first thing tomorrow."

Her mother eyes her with growing concern. "You really are worried about him, aren't you? This isn't just about keeping up appearances?"

Y/N meets her mother's gaze steadily. "It's not about appearances, Mom. Not anymore."

For the first time, her mother seems to truly consider the possibility that her daughter's feelings for Harry might be genuine.

"Tell me about him," she requests softly. "The real him, not the celebrity."

Y/N finds herself smiling despite her anxiety, words flowing easily as she describes the Harry she's come to know. His kindness to Grumps, his unexpected cooking skills, the way he listens when she talks about her father, how he remembers the smallest details about things that matter to her.

By the time she finishes, her mother is looking at her with new understanding. "You love him," she says simply. It's not a question.

Y/N doesn't deny it, the truth of it settling in her chest with surprising certainty.

___

Day Three - Morning

The general store's payphone turns out to be out of order, a handwritten sign apologizing for the inconvenience. Y/N barely restrains herself from kicking the useless device in frustration.

"There's got to be some way to contact him," she insists, turning to her mother and brother who've accompanied her on this increasingly desperate quest.

Her brother snaps his fingers suddenly. "What about the internet café in Millfield? It's about an hour's drive, but they should be open."

Y/N nearly hugs him. "Yes! Let's go now."

Her mother hesitates. "The roads to Millfield aren't great after the storm—"

"Mom, please," Y/N interrupts, not bothering to hide the desperation in her voice. "I need to let Harry know I'm okay. He must be going out of his mind by now."

Something in her expression must convey the depth of her concern, because her mother's resistance crumbles.

"Alright," she agrees with a sigh. "But we're taking the SUV, and if the weather turns, we're turning back."

The drive to Millfield is tense, all three of them scanning the horizon for signs of more flooding. When they finally arrive at the small internet café, Y/N nearly leaps from the vehicle, rushing inside with renewed hope.

The café is dimly lit but mercifully open, a handful of computers lining the wall. Y/N approaches the counter, explaining her situation to the bored-looking teenager working the register.

"Twenty minutes for five dollars," he informs her, barely looking up from his own phone.

Y/N hands over the cash and settles at a computer, fingers flying over the keyboard as she logs into her email. She quickly types an email, explaining about her lost phone and the communication difficulties, apologizing repeatedly for the worry she's caused him.

Just as she's about to hit send, the lights flicker ominously. The teenager at the counter looks up with a grimace.

"Power's been going in and out all morning," he explains with a shrug. "Storm's messing with the lines."

Y/N increases her typing speed, desperate to get the message sent before—

The screen goes black as the power cuts completely, plunging the café into darkness except for the gray light filtering through the windows.

"No!" Y/N cries out, slapping the side of the monitor as if that might somehow revive it.

"Sorry," the teenager offers, sounding genuinely apologetic for the first time. "Backup generator's busted. Might be a while before it comes back on."

Y/N slumps in her chair, tears of frustration welling in her eyes. So close, yet still unable to reach Harry.

Her mother approaches, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "We should head back before the roads get worse," she says softly. "We can try again tomorrow."

Y/N nods numbly, allowing herself to be led back to the car. As they drive home through increasingly heavy and dark clouds, she stares out the window, thinking of Harry alone in their house, checking his phone, wondering why she hasn't called.

"He thinks I've abandoned him," she whispers, more to herself than to her family. "That I've changed my mind."

Her mother reaches across to squeeze her hand. "If he loves you, he'll wait for an explanation."

Y/N turns to look at her mother, surprised by the certainty in her voice.

"Do you think he does?" she asks quietly. "Love me, I mean."

Her mother considers this for a moment, eyes on the snowy road ahead. "From what you've told me? Yes, I think he might. And if that's the case, a few days of silence won't change that. Trust me on this."

Y/N wants desperately to believe her mother is right. That the connection she and Harry have built is strong enough to withstand this unexpected test. As they make their slow way back to the family home, she sends a silent promise across the miles separating them: I'll find a way to reach you. Just hold on a little longer.

Knock knock knock

 The unexpected knock startled Y/N as she sat in her childhood bedroom, surrounded by old photos and memories. Three days without being able to contact Harry had left her anxious and frustrated. She'd tried using her mother's landline again, but no one answered at their mansion, and she didn't have his personal number memorized. A deliberate defiance in the beginning that she deeply regretted now.

Opening the door, she found a stiff-looking man in an expensive suit, briefcase in hand, his expression professionally neutral.

"Ms. Y/N? I'm the Styles family lawyer sent on their behalf."

Her heartbeat quickened. "Is Harry okay? I lost my phone at the airport and I've been trying to reach him."

The lawyer's expression didn't change as he held out a business card. "Mr. Thomas Blackwood, representing the Styles family interests. May I come in? This is a rather private matter."

Confusion and unease settled in her stomach as she stepped aside. "Of course."

Once seated at her mother's small kitchen table, Mr. Blackwood opened his sleek leather briefcase with methodical precision. He removed a thick manila envelope and a separate document folder bound with a ribbon.

"Mrs. Styles," he began formally, "I've been instructed to deliver these to you directly. The first is a cashier's check for the agreed-upon amount as stipulated in your marriage contract with Mr. Styles."

He slid the envelope across the table. Y/N stared at it, her confusion mounting.

"I don't understand. The contract isn't up for months."

Blackwood's expression remained impassive. "The family has elected to fulfill the financial obligations early. The second item," he continued, placing the bound document before her, "is a petition for uncontested divorce, which the family requests you sign immediately."

The word "divorce" hit Y/N like a physical blow. She stared at the papers, her mind struggling to process what was happening.

"Divorce? But Harry and I just—we decided to—" She stopped herself, unwilling to share the intimate details of Christmas with this stranger. "This doesn't make any sense. I need to speak with Harry."

"I'm afraid Mr. Styles has made his wishes quite clear," Blackwood replied, his tone revealing nothing. "The family believes this arrangement has served its purpose, and continuance would be...unnecessary."

A chill ran through Y/N as the lawyer's words sank in. Harry wanted out? After everything they'd shared? After promising to tear up the contract and try for something real?

Her fingers shook as she reached for the divorce papers, flipping through to see Harry's signature already there on the last page. The sight of it—that familiar scrawl she'd seen countless times on notes he'd left around the house—felt like a betrayal so profound it stole her breath.

"When did he sign these?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I'm not privy to that information," Blackwood replied smoothly. "I was simply instructed to obtain your signature and inform you that the family appreciates your discretion throughout this process."

"Who sent you here?" she asked, her eyes narrowing.

For the first time, a flicker of discomfort crossed the lawyer's face. "I represent the Styles family interests as a whole. Now, if you could sign where indicated—"

Y/N's thoughts raced. Could Harry really have agreed to this? After the way he'd held her, the vulnerability in his eyes when he'd asked her to come back to him?

But the evidence was right in front of her.

His signature

The lawyer

The check

Had it all been an act? Had he been planning this all along, waiting until she was away to send someone else to do his dirty work?

Hot tears threatened, but she refused to let them fall. Not in front of this man, this messenger for a family that had always seen her as beneath them.

Something cold and hard settles in her chest as she realizes the truth: she'd fallen in love with a man who had apparently been counting the days until he could end their arrangement. While she'd been desperately trying to contact him, worried sick about how her silence might be affecting him, he'd been preparing divorce papers.

"Ms. Y/N?" the lawyer prompts, his impatience barely concealed beneath his professional veneer. "If you have concerns about the settlement terms, I can review them with you, but Mr. Styles has been quite generous."

Of course he has, Y/N thinks bitterly. Money has never been an issue for Harry. It's always been about what he can buy with it. Including, apparently, a convenient temporary wife who was foolish enough to believe she might become something more.

Her mother hovers in the doorway, clearly distressed by the scene unfolding in her living room. "Y/N, honey, maybe you should think about this. Wait until you can speak with Harry directly—"

"There's nothing to discuss," Y/N interrupts, her voice steadier than she expected as she reaches for the pen. "This was always the arrangement. A business deal."

The lawyer nods approvingly as she signs her name beside Harry's, the finality of the action sending a wave of nausea through her.

Each scratch of the pen felt like another crack in her heart. By the time she signed the final page, Y/N felt hollow inside, the pain so acute it had circled around to numbness.

"Excellent," Blackwood said, gathering the documents with practiced efficiency. "The divorce should be finalized within six to eight weeks, given the prenuptial agreement and the uncontested nature. The funds are yours to keep regardless, as stipulated in your original contract."

Y/N barely hears him, her eyes fixed on the coffee table where the document had been moments before. Had she imagined the past few months? The gradual softening between them, the genuine connection that had formed beneath the contractual obligation?

"Is there anything else you need from me?" she asks, desperate now for this man to leave, to take his briefcase and his paperwork and his clinical dismantling of her heart away with him.

"No, that's all," he confirms, standing and extending his hand for a formal shake that Y/N mechanically returns. "On behalf of the Styles family, I wish you all the best. They appreciate your cooperation in this matter."

The Styles family. Not Harry specifically. Something about the phrasing nags at the back of her mind, but she's too numb to examine it closely.

After he left, Y/N sat motionless at the table, staring at the envelope containing the check. 

The price tag for her heart, apparently. 

As her mother shows the lawyer out, Y/N remains seated, staring blankly ahead. The tears will come back later, she knows. Right now, she's suspended in a state of shock that mercifully dulls the edges of her pain.

Her mother returns, sitting beside her and taking her hand in a gentle grip. "Oh, sweetheart. I'm so sorry."

Y/N turns to her, confusion and hurt warring in her expression. "He didn't even wait to tell me himself. To explain why."

Her mother's face darkens with anger. "That's not the action of someone who cared about you, despite what you told me."

The words sting because they force Y/N to confront the possibility that she'd been wrong. That the moments of tenderness, of apparent genuine connection, had been manufactured by a man accustomed to playing whatever role was required of him.

"I thought—" she begins, but her voice cracks as the first tears finally break through her shock. "I really thought he..."

She can't finish the sentence, can't admit aloud how completely she'd been fooled. Her mother pulls her into a tight embrace, murmuring soothing words as Y/N finally allows herself to break down, her body shaking with the force of her sobs.

Slowly, the sadness began to recede, replaced by a building anger. How dare he? How dare Harry make her believe they had something real, only to discard her like this—sending a lawyer while she was hundreds of miles away, unable to even confront him?

Fine. If this was what Harry wanted, she'd give it to him. She wouldn't call again. She wouldn't beg for explanations. She'd take the money—money she desperately needed for her mother's medical bills—and she'd move on with her life, just as she'd always planned to do once their arrangement ended.

___

Back in London, Harry's phone chimed with an incoming call from his mother. He considered ignoring it. He wasn't in the mood for another lecture about Y/N's continued absence but reluctantly answered on the fourth ring.

"Mother," he greeted tersely, exhaustion evident in his voice.

"Harry, darling," Anne's voice was unusually warm, almost triumphant. "I’m so happy. How did you get rid of her so soon? How did you get her to not only sign but initiate the divorce"

Harry's blood ran cold. "What are you talking about?"

“What? You didn’t hear? Our lawyer just called and said Y/N called him and asked for the divorce papers to sign. Since you had signed them from the beginning it was easy. She even took the check. This calls for a celebration!” 

Harry felt like his heart was being ripped out. It didn’t help that Grumps was purring in his lap

Harry felt the floor drop out from beneath him, his mother's words hitting like physical blows. His grip on the phone tightened until his knuckles turned white.

"What. Divorce. Papers?" he managed to get out, each word clipped and sharp.

Anne's laugh tinkled through the speaker, light and unconcerned. "Oh, don't play coy, darling. The ones you signed months at the beginning. We always kept them ready for when she inevitably showed her true colors."

Harry's mind raced, trying to make sense of what his mother was saying. Papers he'd signed months ago? He vaguely remembered signing a stack of documents Jeff had presented early in their marriage—something about asset protection that seemed standard at the time.

"You...you had divorce papers drawn up without telling me?" The realization dawned slowly, horror creeping through his veins like ice water.

"Of course I did," Anne replied, her tone suggesting this was perfectly reasonable. "I was protecting you, as I've always done. And thank goodness I did! The moment she's away from you, she's calling our lawyers, asking about money and divorce. Just as I predicted."

Grumps shifted in Harry's lap, whining softly as he sensed the tension in his human's body. Harry absently stroked the cat's head, trying to steady himself as rage and disbelief battled for dominance.

"She contacted our lawyers? When?"

"Today! Thomas just called me. Said she was surprisingly eager to sign everything. Barely even read the papers. Just wanted to know where to sign and if she could keep the money." Anne's voice dripped with satisfaction. "I told you she was only after your fortune, darling."

Harry's free hand curled into a fist, his breathing becoming shallow as the implications sank in. Something didn't add up. The Y/N who'd melted into his arms on Christmas Eve, who'd looked at him with such tenderness before leaving for her trip. That woman wouldn't do this. Not without a word of explanation. Not without at least the courtesy of a conversation.

But a treacherous voice in the back of his mind whispers: Wouldn't she? After three days of silence? After leaving with barely a backward glance? Perhaps this is the reason she hasn't called. She's been planning her exit strategy all along.

"Did she say why?" he asked, fighting to keep his voice level. "Why she suddenly wanted a divorce?"

"Does it matter?" Anne dismissed. "The important thing is we're rid of her. I've already called the PR team to prepare a statement about an amicable separation. We'll need to get ahead of any narrative she might try to spin."

"Where is she now?" he demands, pushing the doubts aside. "I need to speak with her directly."

Anne's laugh is light and dismissive. "That's the beauty of it, darling. She specifically requested no contact. Thomas said she was quite clear about that. And really, it's for the best. Clean break and all that."

Harry stops pacing, a terrible coldness spreading through his chest. "You're lying," he says again, but with less conviction this time. "This has your fingerprints all over it. What did you do, Mother?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Harry. She wanted out. Thomas said she practically snatched the pen from his hand."

The image of Y/N eagerly signing away their marriage cuts him deeper than he would have thought possible even a few weeks ago.

"I don't believe you," he says, though uncertainty threads through his voice now. "Y/N wouldn't—"

"Wouldn't what? Take the money and run? That's exactly what that sort of girl does, Harry. I told you from the start—"

"Stop!" Harry interrupts, his voice rising to a shout that startles Grumps into darting from the room. "Don't you dare speak about her like that. You don't know her. You've never even tried to know her."

There's a loaded silence on the line before Anne speaks again, her voice tight with controlled anger.

"I know enough. And apparently, so did she. The papers are signed, Harry. It's done. You should be thanking me for facilitating such a clean exit from what was clearly becoming a messy situation."

Harry closes his eyes, breathing heavily through his nose as he tries to regain control of his emotions. The betrayal cut deeper than he'd thought possible. Had he been such a fool? Had their connection been nothing more than his imagination? The memory of Y/N's smile, the warmth of her skin against his, the way she'd promised to return to him—had it all been a lie?

"I have to go," he said abruptly, unable to bear his mother's triumphant tone for another second.

"Shall I come over? We could open that bottle of Cristal I've been saving—"

"No," he cut her off sharply. "No, I...I need to be alone right now."

He hung up without waiting for her response, letting the phone slip from his fingers onto the couch beside him. Grumps looked up, concerned by the sudden stillness that had overtaken his human.

Harry sat in stunned silence, trying to reconcile the Y/N he thought he knew with the woman his mother described. The calculating, mercenary who was only interested in what she could get from him.

It didn't track. None of it made sense. The Y/N who'd challenged him at every turn, who'd seen through his defenses and called him on his bullshit. She wouldn't take the coward's way out. She wouldn't avoid confrontation like this.

Unless...unless she'd never felt what he thought she had. Unless Christmas had been a momentary weakness, and distance had given her clarity.

The thought twisted in his gut like a knife. Harry pushed Grumps gently off his lap and stood, needing to move, to do something with the energy coursing through him. He paced the living room, mind racing between hurt, anger, and confusion.

If she wanted out so badly, why not just tell him to his face? Why the silent treatment, the sneaking around with lawyers while he'd been going out of his mind with worry?

Harry grabbed his phone again, dialing Y/N's number even knowing it was futile. The familiar automated message played: "The number you have dialed is not in service..."

Of course. How convenient.

A surge of anger propelled him across the room to the bar cart, where he poured himself a generous measure of whiskey. He downed it in one burning swallow, welcoming the heat that spread through his chest—anything to counteract the cold emptiness taking root there.

His mother's words echoed in his head: "She was surprisingly eager to sign everything." The image of Y/N calmly signing away their marriage while he'd been losing sleep over her safety made his stomach turn.

Harry poured another drink, his movements growing more aggressive as hurt crystallized into anger. Fine. If this was what she wanted, he wouldn't chase her. He wouldn't beg. He had his pride, after all—what was left of it after falling for someone who clearly saw him as nothing more than a meal ticket.

He raised his glass in a bitter toast to the empty room. "To freedom, then," he muttered, the words tasting like ash in his mouth.

As the alcohol began to dull the edges of his pain, Harry's phone lit up with a text from Jeff:

"Just heard from Anne. Need to discuss statement ASAP. Available tomorrow morning?"

Harry stared at the message, reality sinking in with crushing weight. This was happening. Y/N had signed divorce papers. Their marriage was over before it had really begun.

He didn't respond to Jeff's text. Instead, he took his drink and walked out to the balcony overlooking the darkened garden. The night air was cold, biting at his skin, but he welcomed the discomfort. It was better than the hollowness spreading through him.

Somewhere, miles away, Y/N was probably celebrating her newfound freedom—and wealth. The thought made him drain his glass, the burn of alcohol no match for the burn of betrayal.

· · ─────────── ·𖥸· ────────── · ·

In her mother's small house, Y/N sat on the edge of her childhood bed, staring blankly at the wall. Her eyes were red-rimmed from crying, but the tears had finally stopped, leaving behind a numb emptiness that seemed to echo through her entire body.

Her mother had offered comfort, outrage, and finally practical advice: "Sleep on it. Things often look clearer in the morning."

But Y/N doubted any amount of sleep would make this situation clearer. Harry had signed divorce papers—had them ready and waiting. While he'd been holding her, kissing her, making her believe they had a future, he'd already prepared for their end.

And he couldn't even face her himself. Instead, he'd waited until she was hundreds of miles away, vulnerable and unreachable, to send his lawyer to do his dirty work.

The betrayal cut so deep precisely because she'd begun to believe in him.

In them

She'd let down her guard, allowed herself to hope for something real, only to have that hope shattered in the most humiliating way possible.

Y/N glanced at the envelope containing the cashier's check, still sitting unopened on her nightstand. Part of her wanted to tear it up, to reject his blood money and the implications that came with it. But the practical part of her—the part that remembered her mother's mounting medical bills and the mortgage payments she'd fallen behind on. Knew she couldn't afford such a gesture.

He'd bought her, used her, and now he was discarding her with a payout. Just as their arrangement had always intended. The fact that she'd foolishly begun to believe it was more was her own fault.

Tomorrow, she decided, she would deposit the check. She would call her mother's doctor and arrange to pay off the outstanding bills. She would contact the mortgage company and bring the payments current.

And then? Then she would figure out how to piece her heart back together.

For now, though, she simply lay back on her bed, staring at the ceiling as the weight of everything she'd lost pressed down on her chest until it became difficult to breathe.

· · ─────────── ·𖥸· ────────── · ·

One month crawled by, each day bleeding into the next with a sameness that should have been numbing but somehow wasn't. The pain remained fresh, a wound that refused to heal.

Harry stood at the window of his studio, guitar abandoned on the couch behind him. He'd been trying to write—something, anything to channel the maelstrom of emotions that had been his constant companion since that phone call with his mother. The pages of his notebook remained stubbornly blank, save for a few crossed-out lines, coffee stains, and tear stains.

Jeff had been pushing for a public statement about the divorce. The PR team had drafted three different versions, each more sanitized than the last. 

"mutual decision" 

"remain friends"

"ask for privacy during this time" 

All the usual celebrity divorce platitudes that said nothing while pretending to say something.

Harry had rejected them all. Announcing the divorce felt too...final. As if speaking it into existence would somehow make it more real than it already was. As if there would be no coming back from it once the world knew.

His phone buzzed on the table, probably Jeff again, wondering why the statement wasn't approved yet. Harry ignored it, taking another sip of cold coffee instead.

Sleep had become a distant acquaintance, visiting briefly and unreliably in the small hours of the morning. Dark circles had taken up permanent residence under his eyes, and his usually meticulous appearance had given way to an unkempt beard and wrinkled clothes.

The house felt impossibly empty without her. Even with Grumps moving around, scratching occasionally at Y/N's closed closet door, the silence was deafening. Harry found himself accidentally making tea for two, setting out two plates for dinner, turning to share a thought with someone who wasn't there.

The anger had faded somewhat, leaving behind a confused hurt that was almost worse. In his darker moments, he imagined Y/N living it up somewhere, spending his money, laughing about how easily she'd played him. But those thoughts never lasted long. They didn't align with the woman he knew. The woman who'd challenged him, surprised him, seen through his carefully constructed walls.

Something still didn't add up. In his more lucid moments, usually after the first coffee of the day but before exhaustion set in again, Harry would try to piece together what had happened. His mother's triumphant tone. The divorce papers he apparently signed months ago. Y/N's sudden decision to end things without so much as a conversation.

He'd tried calling her mother's house twice more, hanging up when the answering machine picked up. Pride and hurt kept him from leaving a message. What would he even say? "Why did your daughter rip my heart out? Was any of it real?"

With a sigh, Harry picked up his phone, scrolling to his last photo of Y/N. Taken on Christmas Eve, her face illuminated by the firelight, a soft smile playing at her lips as she looked at something off-camera. His thumb hovered over the delete button, as it had dozens of times over the past month. And, as always, he couldn't bring himself to press it.

Instead, he put the phone down and reached for his guitar again. Maybe today the words would come.

· · ─────────── ·𖥸· ────────── · ·

In her mother's modest house, Y/N sat at the kitchen table, surrounded by paperwork. Medical bills marked "PAID," mortgage statements showing a zero balance, and a stack of brochures from nearby community colleges.

The money from Harry had done what it was supposed to do: provide financial stability and a fresh start. Her mother's medical bills were paid in full, the mortgage was current with a buffer, and there was enough left over for Y/N to consider going back to school. Something that had seemed like an impossible dream just months ago.

By all accounts, she should have felt relieved, even happy. The weight of financial worry that had been her constant companion for years had lifted. She should have been celebrating her freedom, her new beginning.

Instead, she felt hollow. The relief of financial security couldn't fill the void that Harry's absence had left. The house that had once been her safe haven now felt like a cage, each room filled with memories she couldn't escape—her father's death, her mother's illness, and now, the bitter end of what she'd foolishly begun to believe was a real relationship.

Her mother entered the kitchen, moving much more easily now after a month of proper physical therapy. She took one look at Y/N's face and sighed.

"You're thinking about him again," she observed, not unkindly.

Y/N shook her head, gathering the papers into a neat stack. "Just organizing."

"Mm-hmm," her mother hummed disbelievingly, sitting down across from her. "You know, for someone who's supposedly relieved to be out of a fake marriage, you've been doing an awful lot of sighing and staring into space."

"I'm fine," Y/N insisted, the words so practiced they came automatically now. "Just tired."

Her mother reached across the table, placing a weathered hand over Y/N's. "Sweetheart, I've known you your entire life. I know when you're heartbroken."

Y/N pulled her hand away, standing abruptly. "I'm not heartbroken. I'm angry. There's a difference."

"Is there?" her mother asked softly.

Y/N didn't answer, busying herself with making tea she didn't want just to have something to do with her hands. The truth was, she didn't know what she felt anymore. The hurt and betrayal had become so familiar they were almost comforting in their constancy.

Her phone, a new one, with a new number, chimed with a notification. For a split second, her heart leapt with the irrational hope that somehow, impossibly, it might be Harry. But of course, it wasn't. It was just a reminder about an upcoming doctor's appointment for her mother.

Y/N stared at the screen, trying to ignore the crushing disappointment. This was her life now. Practical. Responsible. Safe. No more fantasy, no more pretending she belonged in Harry's world. To Harry

So why couldn't she stop wondering what he was doing? Why did she still reach for her phone instinctively when she saw something that would make him laugh? Why did she still wake up in the middle of the night, reaching across an empty bed for someone who had never really been hers to begin with?

The kettle whistled, startling her from her thoughts. She poured the boiling water over a tea bag, watching the color seep out in swirling tendrils. Like her life with Harry—vibrant and beautiful, but ultimately just something temporary dissolving away.

Her mother watched her with knowing eyes but said nothing more. They both knew there was nothing left to say. Whatever had happened between Y/N and Harry was over. All that remained was to move forward. Even if moving forward felt like walking through quicksand, each step requiring more energy than she had to give.

· · ─────────── ·𖥸· ────────── · ·

A/N: So…the weather?

I know this is shorter than usual, but I wanted to get this one out first before proceeding with the rest. I promise it gets better 🙏🏻

hehe

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[slaymitchabernathy]

National Anthem

| “…it's a love story for the new age, for the sixth page, we're on a quick, sick rampage. winin' and dinin', drinkin' and drivin', excessive buyin', overdose and dyin', on our drugs, and our love, and our dreams, and our rage. blurrin' the lines between real and the fake. dark and lonely, i need somebody to hold me, he will do very well, i can tell, i can tell, keep me safe in his bell tower hotel…” |

| a companion to ‘Off to the Races’ | contains sexual content ;) |

Coriolanus Snow has finally mastered the ability to calm himself down when he gets angry.

It only took twenty-two years, but who’s counting?

Right now, his anger can only be placed on himself as he struggles to get his tie straight. It truly doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, he has much bigger things to worry about right now but he often finds himself focusing on the most minuscule detail when stressed.

Soarynn says his father is the same way. He doesn’t think so but he also knows better than to argue with her about the little things. Mostly because she likes to focus on them when it comes down to an argument.

The girl can’t remember a dinner reservation to save her life and then ‘poof!’ she suddenly remembers every single interaction they’ve had since birth the moment they start arguing.

He would be counting for days if he tried to recall every time she recalled something he did to her in the past two decades.

Mother thinks it’s sweet, that it’s good for him to be held accountable. He thinks it’s just plain rude. Even a perfect man like himself has to have some faults and right now, despite his pesky tie, he looks like a million-dollar man.

A knock at the door reminds him of what awaits his family name once he leaves his ancestral penthouse. "Coriolanus darling? May I come in?" Coriolanus gives up on the tie completely, if he keeps pulling at it, he'll just end up choking himself to death.

Wouldn't that be a way to go?

He clears his throat, checking his reflection in the bathroom mirror one last time while calling out, "Come in, mother."

He hears his bedroom doors open and close and the sound of his mother's heels clicking on the hardwood floors. Just like Soarynn, she always wears high heels no matter what the occasion is. But he likes that about them, it screams class and wealth, both things they all possess.

His mother comes into view and for a moment, he sees how beautiful she truly is. His father might have gotten second best when it came to a wife, but his mother is a perfect picture of Capitol wealth. She's always classy, from her clothing to her jewelry, she exudes importance, carrying herself as a Snow.

She smiles at him, immediately noticing his tie, "Let me fix that for you darling." He'd normally protest, he's twenty-two years old now, he doesn't need to be coddled by his mother but recently she's been so sentimental, recalling the days when he was a little boy, clinging to her dresses.

He knows why.

Everything is about to change.

So he lets her fix it for him, ignoring the way her eyes mist with tears once she's done. "There," she says, patting his chest, "now you look like a Snow." He smiles, being a Snow is certainly something to brag about and they must carry themselves with the utmost confidence.

"Thank you, mother."

She nods, reaching into the pocket of her dress, "This belonged to your grandmother, I still remember the day your father proposed to me, how the ring was a perfect fit and I think Soarynn will be the perfect fit for you as well. She'll make a wonderful Snow, darling."

Her words mean more to him than she could ever know.

Coriolanus has never felt the need to ask father what he thought about Soarynn. He knew how the older man viewed their relationship, as a means of business, tying two families together along with their wealth. And Soarynn has always been somewhat of a sore spot for father, a reminder of what he could have had.

Mother reveals the velvet box, opening it so he can see the beautiful engagement ring that he will propose with tonight, asking Soarynn to be his forever.

She's always been his, always.

"It's beautiful," he tells her, not even having to lie about it, "she'll love it." Mother chuckles softly, placing the box in his large hand, "You remember what you're going to say? Where you take her?"

Coriolanus nods, slipping the box into his pocket, he's been planning this proposal for weeks now, and he only gets one shot at it. "Yes, I'll lead her to the gardens, and you'll be watching from the rose bushes, then I'll get down on one knee, propose, and then she'll say yes."

Despite his confident tone of voice, Coriolanus can't help but feel very nervous about tonight.

She could say no.

He knows she won't but she could. Soarynn is just like him, a glutton for punishment and watching others squirm. She likes making him squirm, making him work for it. This proposal is the ultimate test of his faith in her.

Mother gives his hand a squeeze, "Wonderful darling, we'll be watching the whole thing, then we'll come out and celebrate with you two."

Coriolanus knew that having a private proposal was a long shot. His family is far too involved and most of the Capitol is far too invested in his relationship with Soarynn. After all, it's not every day that a potential Presidential candidate gets engaged.

It's a love story for the new age, or in his case, for the sixth page of the Capitol Gazette.

After graduating from the Academy with Soarynn at his side, Coriolanus approached his years at the Univeristy with great ferocity and determination. He had decided that becoming President was the best route of action compared to becoming a Game Maker or another businessman.

He took course after course on politics, all while balancing his social life, attending galas, dinners, charities, school events, debates, horse races, balls, and luncheons. All with Soaryn by his side. It was imperative that they be seen together, that people associate him with the beautiful girl walking down the street, the future Mr. and Mrs. Snow, President and First Lady of Panem.

After making his decision to become President, he revealed his plans to Soarynn. He needed her to take this as seriously as he did. Neither of them could afford to act out, they needed to be perfect. To his surprise, Soarynn easily conformed to his wishes, gluing herself to his side, always making herself available for public appearances.

Once he whispered that she'd be First Lady, the richest woman in Panwem who could have whatever she wanted, she did everything in her power to support him. She sang his praises wherever she walked, she talked to her friends who talked to their boyfriends about Coriolanus Snow. She built quite the reputation for herself at the University, the ever-beautiful Soarynn Nightingale who had both beauty and brains, and loved her boyfriend and her country with all her precious heart.

Soarynn excelled in all of her classes along with the social game, attending events as well, building relationships, forming connections, and shaping public opinion on her and him.

He'd be lying if he said that the past four years have been easy. If anything, they've been a true test of their relationship. There have been moments where he's thought about going it alone, taking the pressure off of her but she's always pulled him back, always calmed him down, and given him confidence.

She has proven herself worthy to be the wife of a Snow.

If for some reason he doesn't win the upcoming elections, he'll still spoil her to death, give her everything she could ever want.

When it came to approaching his father about running for President, it was the equivalent of making a business agreement. He sat down in his study, explained his campaign strategy and his father signed the check to fund the entire thing.

"This is our one chance at true power Coriolanus," father had told him, holding the check out to him, "Snow must land on top, no matter what."

Those words totally didn't add any pressure to this campaign. Neither did the fact that he was the youngest person to ever campaign, all while still attending the University. Many encouraged Coriolanus to wait until he graduated, but he didn't have the patience for that, have the time.

They graduated last month, it was a big to-do, cakes were cut, caps were thrown, photos were taken. Coriolanus could finally focus on what was truly important and one of those things included proposing to Soarynn who he saw no reason to keep himself from marrying any longer.

As far as he knows, she doesn't suspect a thing. All their friends are in on it, and he's tasked her friends with keeping her busy today, mostly for the sake of his nerves. Soarynn knows him like the back of her hand, knows how to piss him off, rile up him, and knows when he's nervous.

It sometimes amazes him that he's allowed someone to get this close to him, to know his deepest, darkest secrets. If anyone was going to do it, it was her.

Right now she's at dinner with the girls, and after dinner, Persephone will suggest a trip to the Capitol Gardens, a beautiful strip of land that's been around since before the war. It includes all of the latest flora and fauna and the perfect backdrop for the perfect proposal.

He doesn't know what makes him more nervous, bearing his soul to Soarynn while on one knee, or having his family and friends watch him do it.

Mother is well aware of his love for Soarynn, and father is too. But Glen Nightingale will soon be considered family and Coriolanus would like to keep him on his good side. Asking Glen to court Soarynn had been nerve-wracking enough, so to ask for his blessing to marry his one and only daughter was even worse.

It had been such a funny series of events. The son of the man who wanted to marry his wife asking to marry his daughter.

It almost sounded like a bad joke.

Thankfully, Glen didn't put up a fight, easily giving Coriolanus his blessing, even referring to him as a son. Perhaps father could take some notes from his future family member. Father isn't rude to Soarynn, but he sure as hell isn't bubbly either.

Soarynn says she doesn't mind, says that his mother's approval is what girls really care about but he cares about it. He wants his father to be proud, to approve of their relationship, of their marriage, their union.

Call him selfish but he cares.

He forces another smile onto his lips, leaning down to kiss her cheek, "Thank you, mother, I'm sure it'll be fine."

Mother smiles brightly, she's not worried about a thing. After this, she'll have the daughter she always wanted and her son will be married. She might just be the happiest woman in Panem.

Is that what his tombstone will read if all fails?

"Here lies Coriolanus Snow. A failure but his mother was very happy."

He can't allow that to happen.

Snow must land on top tonight.

꧁ ꧂

"It's a bit small, isn't it?"

Coriolanus shoots Soarynn a knowing look, she's been trying to find the smallest things to tear apart since they started looking for their own apartment and the one they're currently standing in is far from small. Six bedrooms, eight bathrooms, a full kitchen and servants quarters.

Almost as big as the Snow penthouse.

Perhaps living in a townhouse has skewed her perception of size.

"It's more than modest darling," he assures her, "and it's only for a few months."

Soarynn sighs, spinning around the empty bedroom, she looks so angelic as the light pours through the windows. "I know, I know. It's temporary. Everything is temporary right now."

Six months ago, Coriolanus Snow got engaged to Soarynn Nightingale. It was front-page news, everyone was talking about it. He thanked his lucky stars every night that it all went smoothly, that he remembered what to say and didn't drop the ring.

Mother would have killed him.

Soarynn said yes, of course, despite his doubts that she for some reason might decline his invitation to become a part of the most important family in Panem's history.

Even now her engagement ring shines brightly on her ring finger, a constant reminder that she is his, Coriolanus Snow's fiance.

Four months ago, Coriolanus ran for his life in the Presidential election and won the damn thing. Not that he had any doubts but still, it came as quite a shock to the entire nation. Whispers could be heard about how young he was, how inexperienced he would be once he got into office.

He ignored all those doubts, he had good advisors, a head on his shoulders, and soon, a wife by his side.

He credits a lot of his success to the fact that he and Soarynn got engaged right before the elections officially took off, giving him a boost in popularity. While other candidates were spewing out ideas to help the poor Districts and the lower class in the Capitol, Coriolanus promised to keep the elite at the top.

Snow lands on top, after all.

He still remembers the rush he felt when they found out he won. How Soarynn was shrieking with excitement, how she threw her arms around his neck and pulled him down for a passionate, celebratory kiss that he eagerly returned.

Needless to say, they had very good sex that night.

Everything is going perfectly for him right now. His birthday is right around the corner and then this upcoming January, they'll get married, right before his inauguration.

He figured until they moved into the Presidential Mansion that they should find an apartment somewhere to call their own. Coriolanus has lived with his parents since the day he was born and after twenty-two years, it's gotten a little tiresome. But not just any old apartment would do for him, no. He has standards.

It has to be a penthouse for starters, and on the Corso, with a working elevator, refurbished floors, quiet neighbors, and a doorman. He wants the best for himself and for Soarynn, even if it is only temporary.

Soarynn doesn't appear to share the same eagerness to move out from home, mostly because they'll be settled in the President's Mansion in less than six months but he's getting tired of having to kiss her goodnight after dinner, unable to spend the night with her. It's highly frowned upon for couples to spend the night with each other at their respective houses which of course, applies to their relationship as well.

They've managed it a few times, but he's done managing. He's engaged to the girl, you'd figure he could start waking up next to her!

Coriolanus grunts, more than pleased with the penthouse they've been shown. Rumor has it that its previous tenants couldn't afford the steep rent prices anymore and were forced to put it up for sale.

Fine by him.

Soarynn does a spin in the middle of the empty room, her dress flutters in the air. He can't wait to see her wedding dress. She went shopping the day after they got engaged, saying that she couldn't afford to waste a minute when it came to planning their wedding.

With the way mother acted, you'd think that she was the one getting married. But Soarynn found the perfect dress in less than a month, giving her plenty of time for alterations to be done. She's said things about taking it in at the waist, adding a longer train, fixing the hemline. All pointless words that he's mindlessly nodded along to.

"I just want to make sure that it's up to your standards is all," she says sweetly, batting her eyes up at him. Coriolanus grins, even when they're married, he knows she'll still continue to tease him and occasionally, humble him.

He supposes it's a good thing, so his head won't grow two sizes too big along with his ego.

"It is," he promises, reaching out for her, "let's go see what the study looks like."

Coriolanus would be lying if he said he wasn't excited to have his own study. For so long he's done all his work in his bedroom and it's started to feel...demeaning, belittling. He's the future President of Panem, he should be acting as such. And his father's study has always felt so important to him, so fancy and grown up.

To have his own study is a sure sign of maturity.

He leads them through the hallways, smiling as Soarynn giggles, leaning into his safe touch. He can't believe they used to be at odds with one another, constantly at each other's throats.

He wouldn't believe anyone if they told him twenty years ago that he'd marry the girl he hated so passionately.

They find the study and he's pleased to see that the previous owners even left their desk behind. Soarynn wrinkles her nose at the sight of it, "Oak," she scoffs, running a finger along the dusty wooden surface, "we'll need to get you a different one, mahogany."

Coriolanus chuckles, letting go of her hand so he can sit in the chair they left behind as well. There was a time in their relationship when he never wanted Soarynn to be out of his sight, let alone out of his reach. But as their relationship has bloomed, he's gotten more comfortable with her not always being glued to his side.

He trusts her and she trusts him.

"Such high standards for wood," he teases, leaning back in his chair, he could get used to this, having Soarynn come to visit him while he's working. Soarynn merely rolls her eyes in response, leaning against the large piece of furniture, "The future President of Panem won't be caught dead with anything outdated or ugly."

Thank goodness he has a stylish fiance who cares about his public image. He could have easily settled for a girl who blindly agreed with everything he said, but having Soarynn by his side opens up new perspectives. Sometimes, and it pains him to say this...he's not... always... right.

He'd never admit this out loud but they both know it's true.

He spreads his legs, taking up as much room as possible and her eyes immediately zero in on his cock that's beginning to strain in his pants. He doesn't know why he's suddenly so turned on, perhaps it's the thought of finally having Soarynn all to himself or the fact that he's finally moving up in the world.

Either of those does nothing but make him feel more powerful, more in control.

"Will the President of Panem be caught with a hard, leaking cock, or will he have a good First Lady to get on her knees for him?" He asks, tilting his head up at her. It's quite something to see a woman like Soarynn Nightingale being brought to her knees by only a few words. To the world, she's known for being important, respected, a woman of high status.

To him, she's his little whore, happy to get down on her knees to help him out whenever he needs it.

Soarynn swallows, pushing herself off the desk, "No," she answers, "it would be a real shame if he were left high and dry." Coriolanus watches Soarynn slowly sink to her knees in front of him, resting her hands on his thighs.

It's extremely rare for him to get a blowjob like this. Over the years, their need and desire for public sex has grown less and less. To put it simply, he can't afford a scandal this close to his presidency. Once they graduated from the Academy, they graduated on to doing things in the privacy and safety of their own homes, keeping the risk of being caught at a minimum.

Not that being caught by his own mother is desirable, but it's better than a scandalous story being leaked to the public, to the press.

And Soarynn prefers giving blowjobs in bed, lying down. Not that he has any issues with this preference, not when he also prefers to go down on her in the comfort of his own bed. It's like dining in, eating at home.

He watches with a cocky grin as Soarynn unzips his pants, lifting his hips so she can slide them down to his knees. Soarynn has always been a master at a quick blowjob, her mouth is something else. She teases him through the fabric of his boxers, earning her a warning glare, Coriolanus doesn't like to be kept waiting.

"You never let me have any fun," she pouts playfully, pulling down his boxers with her perfectly manicured nails. He can't help but admire her engagement ring, so perfect on her finger. Coriolanus chuckles, smoothing down her soft, shiny hair, "Yes, but I let you have a lot of other things, hmm?"

Once they get married, Coriolanus will solely be responsible for taking care of Soarynn, and more importantly, her purchases. He's been on enough shopping trips with the girl to know that she loves to shop, to spend money like it's nothing.

Right now, she's still Glen's problem when it comes to clothes, shoes, bags jewelry, and who knows what else. But he still gets her lots of things, lots of gifts. Chocolates, tickets to shows, new lingerie, he's a thoughtful man when it comes to the woman he loves most, and in the bedroom, he gives her all the orgasms she could ever want.

Soarynn shrugs, taking hold of his hard, leaking cock in her small hand, the tip is red, leaking already. Soarynn licks her lips, wasting no time in wrapping them around his cock and taking him down as far as she can go.

That's another thing about Soarynn, she doesn't beat around the bush.

Ever.

Coriolanus throws his head back, gripping the armrest with one hand and her hair in the other. She'll probably give him a long-winded lecture about how he's messed up her hair for the next forty-eight hours, but if she didn't want him to then she never should have gotten down on her knees.

"Fuck," he says, his toes curling from how good she feels around his cock. Coriolanus would choose her cunt every single time, but there's just something about being shoved down her pretty little throat that really turns him on.

He makes the mistake of looking down and it's an ungodly sight, Soarynn on her knees, those pretty lips wrapped around his cock while she stares right back at him. "So good," he mutters, bucking his hips which causes her to whine. Soarynn does have a gag reflex and he makes it his life's mission to trigger it whenever he can.

"Just like that baby," he continues, moving his hips up and down at a slower pace. Soarynn catches onto his tricks and starts bobbing her head up and down quicker, driving him mad. His grip on her hair grows tighter, his nails dig into the armrest. She's really going to be the death of him someday.

Just when he thinks she's pulled out all the stops, she reaches for his balls, squeezing them just right and he's long gone. Coriolanus lets out a loud moan, glad that they toured this apartment alone without their agent. He's not the most vocal person in the bedroom but getting a blowjob might just be the exception. He cums down her throat, watching as she continues bobbing her head, not letting up on him one bit.

"Shit Soarynn," he swears when she doesn't let up, using her tongue to tease the tip of his cock. This is definitely payback from the other night when he tormented her clit with his tongue, lapping at it like a thirsty dog in heat. She had been in tears by the end of the night, blissfully overstimulated.

Looks like she got even.

Coriolanus whimpers, trapped between a rock and a literal hard place. "Darling," he pants, trying to move away but he can't, and her tongue continues to torture the tip of his cock, "darling, that's enough." But Soarynn has never been a very good listener.

He growls, if she keeps going at this rate, he just might die and he can't have that. In an attempt to save his own life, he uses his grip on her hair and wrenches her off of him, causing her to squeal from his tight grip.

"Hey!" She protests, batting his hands away from her head. Coriolanus huffs, letting go of the blonde head and sitting up straighter, "Hey, yourself, what the hell was that, huh?"

She glares up at him from her spot on the floor, a wicked grin curls across her lips which never leads to kind words, "That was payback," she cruelly informs him, confirming his suspicions about the other night. Soarynn wipes a bit of cum from the corner of her mouth, putting on quite the show as she wraps her lips around her finger.

It's so enticing that he almost wants to ask her to give him one more blowjob but he doesn't. They need to leave before someone finds them like this, fucking as if they already own the place.

He clears his throat, "Well, you've certainly started something you won't be able to finish." She doesn't look a little bit worried about his threat, "I'm counting on it."

꧁ ꧂

When they arrive at the Nightingale townhouse later that night, Coriolanus is surprised to find it empty, aside from Petunia, of course, who is all over Soarynn the moment they walk through the front door.

"Is your father not home?" He asks while hanging up his coat. Soarynn is far too preoccupied playing with Petunia, giggling when the cat rolls on her back, asking for belly rubs, "Darling, is your father not home?"

"Hmm? Oh, no, no he's not. He's on a business trip, last minute," she absently mindedly replies, "he'll be home tomorrow."

Coriolanus visibly brightens at the premise of having Soarynn and the house all to himself.

"Can I stay the night?"

Soarynn scoops Petunia into her arms, standing up and cradling her like a baby, "Sure, I'd feel much better if you were with me tonight." Coriolanus smiles at her words, at knowing that she always feels safe around him, that she knows he'll always protect her.

They make their way into the kitchen to prepare some dinner. Since Glen is gone, so is their cook, which means Soarynn will have to conjure up something edible. She pokes around the pantry for about five seconds before deciding to order food from one of their favorite restaurants.

"Coryo, would you please fetch a glass of wine?" She asks while dialing the number on the phone.

Coriolanus nods, padding down the hall to the small cellar where Glen has collected all sorts of alcohol, his own private collection. He chooses a red wine since Soarynn is more partial to the taste. When he returns to the kitchen, he finds Soarynn humming to herself while cutting up some fruits, the evening light pouring through the windows, and Petunia curled up by the sink.

It's a perfectly domestic feeling and a preview of what's to come once they marry. Coriolanus loves nights like this, loves when they stay home and putter around the kitchen, feeding each other fruits and cheeses. Soarynn calls it "playing house" but they won't be playing for much longer.

Soon, they'll have their own home, their own staff, their own rules.

"How's the search for maids been going?" He asks, setting the bottle on the counter. Soarynn sighs, carding a hand through her hair. While Coriolanus has been gearing up to become President, Soarynn has been searching for the essential workers they'll need in their apartment and in the President's Mansion once they move in.

According to her, it's been a grueling search.

"It's hard to find perfection," she admits, "and father is firm on his decision to keep Maria, so I'm truly left on my own." Maria, the Nightingale's most trusted maid, has been with them since before Soarynn was born. Soarynn had hoped that her father might be willing to part with his most loyal household servant, but apparently not.

"You've been checking the papers, right?" He asks, fishing through a drawer for the corkscrew. "Yes, I have," she says, "but you do have somewhat of a lengthy list of requirements Coryo. Perhaps you could knock a few of those off."

Coriolanus rolls his eyes, it's not his fault that he's a man of high standards. He doesn't just want anyone in his house, cleaning his stuff, folding his clothes, cooking his food. He's a Snow, he needs perfection.

"Nonsense darling, we don't want just anyone around our future children. Especially not someone from the Districts." From the moment the search for help began, Coriolanus was very clear with Soarynn that he didn't want any District-born maids, cooks, or other servants. He's never trusted those people and certainly not in his own house.

This decision has made finding help a bit harder, narrowing down their candidates. Soarynn has griped about it in the past but he's remained firm on his decision.

Soarynn huffs, eyeing him all while holding a knife, "Well, then I'm still looking."

Coriolanus gives her attitude right back to her, "Then look harder, what else have you been doing?"

That was the wrong thing to say. He's made aware of that immediately when Soarynn gasps, dropping the knife onto the cutting board. "What have I been doing?! I've been doing everything! Finding the wedding venue, finding the catering, finding my dress, finding my dress for the reception, finding my bridesmaid's dresses, finding enough florals..."

Coriolanus lets her rattle off another twenty things while he pops the cork on the wine bottle, Soarynn can get this way when she's stressed, feisty, and easily triggered. He's learned to love it, and her efforts never go unnoticed or unappreciated.

Coriolanus shuts her off with a kiss on the lips. Her tangent is cut short by the kiss and she gasps, surprised by his actions but she gives in rather quickly to his demands. They both lose focus on what they were doing, too enamored by each other. Coriolanus takes charge of the kiss, using his teeth to bite her bottom lip gently, tugging on it.

Soarynn sighs into it, dragging her fingers through his curls, breaking the gel cast he created this morning when he got ready. Soarynn has always loved messing with his curls, claiming they look best when they're a little unruly.

Coriolanus has to agree with her on that one, they do look the best like that, but it's not presentable for every day. He has to look put together, so these curls are reserved exclusively for Soarynn.

A lot of things are.

꧁ ꧂

With his inauguration right around the corner, Coriolanus has barely had time to think, let alone sit down and enjoy the moment.

But on a day like today, his wedding day, he can make an exception.

He watches Soarynn rest her hand on the balcony railing while their photographer takes another twenty pictures of her in her wedding dress. He had been brought to tears when he saw her walking down that aisle, on her father's arm, nothing but love and devotion in her eyes.

She looked so beautiful, so perfect for him.

He was nearly rendered speechless by the time she reached him.

Coriolanus was barely able to contain himself while they said their vows and went through the entire ceremony, boring and drawn out in his opinion, but it was traditional and he's a man who values tradition.

Everything about today has been dictated by tradition.

From her dress to the ceremony to the vows. Nothing was outside of the Capitol mold. It's already said that their wedding will be one to remember for centuries to come. He just can't believe that he's married, that after a good twenty years, he finally got the girl.

Part of him wanted to thank Titus Fenton for so graciously offering up his face as a punching bag all those years ago. Without that fight, who knows where they'd be.

Coriolanus hears his mother arrive before he sees her, gasping at Soarynn's dress like she didn't just spend an hour in the Building of Justice staring at it. Mother finally got the daughter she wanted.

"Oh, darling, she looks so gorgeous, doesn't she look just gorgeous Crassus?" His parents come to stand next to him, they'll have to take some family photos before heading inside Heavensbee Hall for the reception, the less traditional part of the wedding.

"She makes a good Snow," is what father says in reply, his bright eyes trained on Soarynn as she looks over her shoulder into the camera. Coriolanus smiles, it's better than nothing when it comes from Crassus Snow, and while he'd never admit it, he knows that his father is damn proud of this marriage.

Not only does it once again solidify their place in society, but Coriolanus has also managed to get the prettiest girl in their generation, and that is not an unnoted feat.

Snow lands on top once again.

The moment Soarynn lays eyes on mother, there's high-pitched squealing and hugging, Coriolanus and Crassus long forgotten as the new mother-daughter duo reunites for photos. "You did good," father says, watching his wife and daughter-in-law talk, "she'll make a fine mother."

Coriolanus feels his heart swelling with pride. Glen has never shied away from praise which is most likely why Soarynn is the way she is, confident in herself, but father has always been reserved. Which is why Coriolanus is the way he is, always trying to prove himself.

Coriolanus swallows, trying to act nonchalant, "Thank you, father."

"Crassus, Coriolanus, come and stand next to us," mother calls, pointing next to her, leaving no room for debate. Both tall men shuffle over to their wives, standing proudly by their sides. Coriolanus looks down at Soarynn, smiling when she smiles at him, "We're married!" She says, unable to hide her excitement, "We're actually married Coryo, can you believe it!?"

Coriolanus shakes his head, "I can't," he answers truthfully, pressing a kiss to her temple, "but I get to spend the rest of my life loving you and that seems more than doable." Mother sighs at his romantic words while the photographer instructs them on how to pose.

Coriolanus spots Glen coming out onto the balcony as well, accompanied by the Creeds. Festus and Persephone are set to be married in March, which means instead of taking part in wedding planning, he's going to have to hear about wedding planning from Soarynn who is going to be her best friend's maid of honor.

A bridge they will cross when they get to it.

"No smiles for this one folks! This is for the Gazette!"

Coriolanus rests his hand on Soarynn's waist, feeling the soft fabric of her dress between his fingers With the corseted bodice and lace detailing, her dress is the perfect fit for her. Classy, elegant, and timeless.

Just like her.

꧁ ꧂

"Mr. President, what's the first thing you're going to do now that you've been inaugurated?"

"Mr. President, what are your plans for the Districts?"

"Mrs. Snow, where did you buy your shoes?"

Coriolanus and Soarynn wisely ignore all the comments and questions directed at them as they walk toward their car. Less than thirty minutes ago, Coriolanus became President of Panem.

Snow finally landed on the very top.

With Soarynn by his side through the whole thing, he felt on top of the world, unstoppable. His mother and father watched with pride, along with Glen Nightingale who clapped him on the back and congratulated him on his success.

"Time to go home," Soarynn says with a sigh, sliding into the backseat. Coriolanus slides in after her, still buzzing with excitement and adrenaline. His hand instantly finds her thigh, he needs her more than ever to ground him, to keep him sane through the years to come. Her outfit today is impeccable, no wonder someone asked about her shoes. Soarynn wore a rose red dress today, stopping at about midthigh despite the cold weather.

Mother claimed that fashion waited for no one so that must include the weather as well.

Soarynn wore tights under the dress if that's any consolation. She wore red heels to match, with her hair skillfully pinned up in an intricately twisted bun. Her neck was adorned with a diamond necklace, straight from District One, to match her wedding ring, the most expensive ring in all of Panem. She also wore diamond earrings and bracelets.

The First Lady of Panem was dripping in Capitol wealth.

"Our home sweet home," he murmurs, leaning in to peck her lips. Now that he's President, he'll have to be more reserved with his public affection, only sweet kisses will do, anything else would be sure to cause quite the scandal.

It'll just make their moments in private that more meaningful.

At least, that's what he tells himself.

They're on their way to the President's Mansion, their new home for a celebration being thrown by now-former President Ravenstill. It's tradition for the former President to welcome the new one with a fancy feast, sparing no expense.

Too bad Coriolanus is going to be the one to break that lovely tradition.

He's as traditional as they come, doing everything by the books but he's already decided that he'll be the last elected President. Once Soarynn gives him a son, an heir, he'll have a legacy to pass this power down to. He's already discussed it with his father, how they'll do it, how they'll integrate it so casually that no one will bat an eye.

Not even Soarynn will notice the changes he's making.

She's quick as a whip, but once they start having children, she'll be far too preoccupied with other things to worry about. His work will come second to her, the children coming first. His hand slides down to her stomach, splaying his fingers across the fabric of her dress, doing his best to imagine the small child now growing inside of her.

They found out a month ago, she broke the news to him on Christmas, a small present with baby socks. Coriolanus was thrilled at the prospect of a child, but because they weren't married yet, they kept it under wraps, not even telling their parents.

She's yet to start showing so they'll make the announcement at the end of the week. Heaven knows how mother will react. Soarynn was excited but also nervous, her own mother died giving birth to her, who was to say that she wouldn't suffer the same fate?

But Coriolanus had already thought this through, worked out the numbers, the odds. Cera Nightingale had two men to pick from: Glen Nightingale and Crassus Snow. She chose Glen. By choosing Glen, she basically signed her death certificate, if she had married Crassus, none of this would have happened.

This, of course, means that Soarynn would never have happened which wouldn't do, Coriolanus can't imagine his life without her. Which is exactly why he knows that nothing will happen to her or their child.

He'd never tell Soarynn this, she'd probably get offended at his way of thinking but she didn't marry a saint. She married a Snow.

"I can't wait till he gets here," Soarynn whispers, resting a hand on his chest. Coriolanus raises an eyebrow, she hasn't even started experiencing any of the main pregnancy symptoms but she's already assigned their unborn child a gender.

Talking about thinking two steps ahead.

"He? How can you be so sure it's going to be a boy?" He presses, sliding his other hand around her waist to keep her from moving. The drive home is short and he wants to soak up every second they have along together.

Soarynn smiles against her lips, the same way she did when they got married. "Because I just do," she answers, "we're the Snows, how could we not have a boy?" She has a point. Coriolanus hums, it's pointless really, to argue over what they'll have and Coriolanus plans on having several children.

They'll have a boy sooner or later. A firstborn would be preferred, but again, these things can't be planned out.

But he can see the headlines now, praising the President and his First Lady for providing their country with a safeguarded future.

'It's a Love Story for the New Age!'

His future will be a glorious one, he has no doubt about that. Yes, there will be work, but there will also be play. Wining and dining, drinking and driving, excessive buying, Soarynn's already got that part covered.

He'll blur the lines between the real and the fake until no one can tell the difference anymore, no one but him. He's thought about letting Soarynn in on his little plan, but it's safer if she remains none the wiser. After all, she is a woman.

He will do very well. He'll keep this country afloat, lead them into a new era with Soarynn by his side.

Snow lands on top once again.

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[dissociativewriter]

Love and Deepspace rambles and Frankenstein quotes/connections below the cut <3

Been reading Frankenstein and some of these quotes are reminding me of the LIs >_<

“On the evening previous to her being brought to my home, my mother had said playfully, “I have a pretty present for my Victor— tomorrow he shall have it.” And when, on the morrow, she presented Elizabeth to me as her promised gift, I, with childish seriousness, interpreted her words literally and looked upon Elizabeth as mine— mine to protect, love, and cherish. All praises bestowed on her I received as made to a possession of my own. We called each other familiarly by the name of cousin. No word, no expression could body forth the kind of relation in which she stood to me— my more than sister, since till death she was to be mine only.”

This reminds me SO MUCH of Caleb, with the deep rooted possession and the somewhat familial bond but still being more than that, it just screams Caleb to me. The “my more than sister” reminds me of some lines of his that I can’t really remember right now but he’s basically like we’ve always been more than friends or adoptive siblings or whatever. And then the “mine to protect, love, and cherish” is like when Caleb says “you’re only safe when you’re by my side” and so firmly believes it like he completely takes away her independence in Captive Bird. And finally the “til death she was to be mine only” again just the strong possession Caleb has for MC is so apparent in all his dialogue and this just keeps remind me of him.

And

“‘You are in the wrong,’ replied the fiend, ‘and instead of threatening, I am content to reason with you. I am malicious because I am miserable. Am I not shunned and hated by all mankind? You, my creator, would tear me to pieces and triumph; remember that, and tell me why I should not pity man more than he pities me? You would not call it murder if you could precipitate me into one of those ice-rifts and destroy my frame, the work of your own hands. Shall I respect man when he contemns me? Let him live with me in the interchange of kindness, and instead of injury I would bestow every benefit upon him with tears of gratitude and acceptance. But that cannot be; the human senses are insurmountable barriers to our union. Yet mine shall not be the submission of abject slavery. I will revenge my injuries; if I cannot inspire love, I will cause fear, and chiefly towards you my archenemy, because my creator, do I swear inextinguishable hatred. Have a care; I will work at your destruction, nor finish until I desolate your heart, so that you shall curse the hour of your birth.’”

I read this and was like oh Dragon!Sylus, definitely! And it’s not just because it refers to Frankenstein’s monster as the fiend, but because he is shown to be hated by society for simply existing and being different. This feels like all the feelings that were implied for Sylus but never directly stated. Sure he acts violently and maliciously (at least when it doesn’t concern MC), but how can he be expected to act with kindness when it has never been shown to him? It’s so sad to me because he’s really just a creation craving a connection he’s denied. Even the “you would not call it murder” bit talking about how the monster’s actions are seen as horrible and unforgivable but if the same thing was done to the monster then people wouldn’t care, or would even applaud it. Even referring to Frankenstein’s monster as a monster reminds me of how Sylus is obviously terrified of being seen as a monster (at least by MC), a label he was probably given for not being the status quo. It’s awful that he’s considered a monster for things out of his control because he’s really such a sweetheart when he’s shown the kindness he so obviously needs and craves.

Anyway… sorry to ramble but I was getting all these thoughts while reading and had to share