#and never was I expected or celebrated for that fact | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

xuchiya · 1 day ago

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"stuck in this fairytale" || choi san || series || tenth part

| genre: prince! san. fluff. angst. adventure | mentions: cursing. | here's the first part

back to masterlist | chapter 11

Jongho sat alone in his room, the one Wooyoung had given him when he arrived, unable to shake off the memories that haunted him. This was where he first met you—more like you tackled him— and this was also the place where he lost you, a fact that weighed heavily on his heart. The memory played in his mind on repeat, an endless loop of guilt and regret. He tightened his grip on the book in his hand, as if it might somehow tether him, keep him from being consumed by the depths of his own remorse.

He blamed himself. He’d had the power to act, to protect you, yet he’d done nothing. Still, no matter how he tried, he couldn’t bring himself to resent you. Sacrifice was in your nature. You’d always been known for it.

“I’m sorry, bookie…” Jongho’s voice trembled with emotion as he held the worn book, Dragon Mountain, close to his chest. With a heavy sigh, he opened the book and began flipping through its familiar pages, curious as to why this one hit him in the head in the first place.

Eventually, he stopped at an illustration he’d often lingered over: a striking figure of a woman with flowing, fiery red hair, a crown resting regally upon her head, and a wreath of flames swirling around her. The name below the picture read simply, Brigid. He traced the letters with a gentle finger, his gaze lingering on the character’s face. At first, the woman looked like a figure out of Greek mythology, powerful and godlike. But the longer he looked, the more he saw subtle details that reminded him of you. The arch of her brows, the determined set of her mouth, even the glint of warmth tempered with strength in her eyes—it all whispered of you.

As he stared at the illustration, a wave of memories washed over him, transporting him back to the days when he had first come to know you. You had never been a campus celebrity or someone who stood in the spotlight, but you left an undeniable impact on everyone you met. To those who truly knew you, you were unforgettable.

A freshman at KQ University majoring in computer science. He’s been part of the student council, immersed in his responsibilities when he noticed you, looking lost but determined. Before he had a chance to offer help— it was you who approached him but in a different matter— you’d hurried over to him, grabbing his arm just in time to pull him out of harm’s way as one of the string lights hanging above came crashing down where he’d been standing.

The moment left him stunned, but you only brushed it off with a simple, “You’re not hurt, are you?” He nodded slowly, still processing what had just happened, while you let out a relieved sigh, you were about to speak when Wooyoung appeared behind you, tackling you with his usual playful energy. Jongho could still remember how you laughed as Wooyoung’s arm draped around your shoulder, pinching his side in response to his antics.

“Ah! Jongho-yah! So you met my childhood friend!” Wooyoung had grinned, pulling you close. “I finally convinced her to join us here at KQ University. Meet our very own fierce, loving, and feisty girl.”

You chuckled, rolling your eyes at his playful description, but extended your hand to Jongho with a warm smile. From that day on, you became friends. Not because you had saved him, but because you saw him—really saw him—for who he was. You saw beyond the labels and expectations, beyond his status as the son of a well-known sports car brand, Dragons. To you, he wasn’t a title or a legacy. He was simply Jongho.

And that made Jongho breathe. That made Jongho smile for the first time without having to put up with a fake one. And Jongho had grown close to you, treasuring every laugh, every shared moment. He admired your ability to balance strength and kindness, to bring light into every room you entered. But now, as he sat alone with the weight of your absence pressing down on him, he felt hollow. The memories of you, of your laughter and your fierce loyalty, were all he had left.

In his heart, Jongho knew that he’d have given anything to change that day. To be the one to step forward, to shield you. But you had acted first, your nature as protective as ever. And so he was left here, gripping that book as if it could somehow bring you back or lessen the ache of your loss, haunted by the echoes of what he should have done.

“Mourning is for the dead. She’s not.” A voice brought him out of his trace of memories. He blinks, looking up from where it came from. There stood—clad in a formal prince outfit— was his senior and the prince of the story, from what Wooyoung filled him in, Choi San.

“I– I was not! I was…” He sighs, looking back to the book, a sad look in his eyes, “It’s my fault.”

San, who was on his way to his library office when he came across his room, the door was ajar and the first thing he saw was Jongho's hunched body by the bed. Deep in thought and a blank dull look on his face. San was absolutely shocked to discover a new member that came in when Wooyoung introduced him to who he is over dinner time. San and his father were able to lean forward at the same time in discovering ‘Choi Jongho’, someone with the same last name as them. It has become a tradition to know the relation of parents to whoever has the last name related to the royalties. When the King questioned about his family line, Jongho had simply explained about his family line by owning a carriage.

It’s like the explanation in an old time explanation of his modern life. Wooyoung explained to him to speak in their time as no one recognized who he was, unlike Jongho recognized everyone.

San sighed softly as he slipped his hands into the pockets of his tailored dress pants, stepping fully into Jongho’s room. Without saying a word, he crossed the quiet space and settled beside Jongho on the edge of the bed. The silence was thick, almost reverent, until San finally broke it, his voice gentle. “Do you want to know what she said to me when she first arrived here?”

Jongho looked up, a deep frown knitting his brows. “What?” he murmured, a hint of curiosity breaking through his sadness.

A faint smile tugged at the corner of San’s lips as he cast his gaze downward, recalling the vivid memory. He could still hear the echo of your laughter, bright and genuine. Ignoring the quickened beat of his heart, he let the memory wash over him.

“She told me…” San began, chuckling quietly, “she told me, ‘What the hell are you wearing?’ right there in the library. And then she burst out laughing. Loudly, too. I’m sure everyone within earshot heard her.”

Jongho’s eyes softened as he imagined it, a small smile breaking through his somber expression. He could picture you standing there, laughing at San’s formal attire, teasing him in that light-hearted way that only you could. Despite the ache in his chest, he found himself chuckling under his breath. “Sounds like her…” he murmured, the warmth in his voice undeniable.

San nodded, his smile widening as he continued. “Even in a strange place, surrounded by unfamiliar faces, she just… looked over the horizon, like nothing could weigh her down. She’s always been that way. Positive. Strong-willed.” He paused, looking off to the side as he marveled at the memory. “It amazes me sometimes—she was just so sure of herself.”

Jongho nodded, a fond look in his eyes as he remembered more moments with you. “She’s always been kind to everyone, even… animals,” he said, chuckling at the memory that surfaced. “One time, at the zoo, she even managed to befriend an eagle. It just landed on her shoulder out of nowhere and sat there. She looked at it like it was an old friend.”

San raised his brows, intrigued. “An eagle?”

“Yeah,” Jongho said, nodding. “The keepers were trying to get it off her shoulder, but it wouldn’t budge. It stayed there, like it had some kind of bond with her.”

San fell silent, and his expression grew thoughtful. The mention of the eagle triggered a memory. Just eight days after you’d disappeared, he had gone back to the riverside himself, desperate to search every corner for any sign of you. The search, however, had turned up nothing, just as Seonghwa’s had. He remembered the journey back to the Choi Kingdom afterward, when an eagle had soared above them, its piercing cry echoing through the sky. It had circled overhead for what felt like hours. Eagles weren’t known to fly near the kingdom; they preferred the isolated mountains. The sight had left him with questions he couldn’t quite answer.

“Why? Did the eagle leave?” San asked, a hint of curiosity in his tone.

Jongho shook his head, “No. It stayed until she was the who placed him back in his nest.”

Something about the story tugged at San’s heart, a quiet familiarity lingering with the mention of the eagle. He knew someone who kept an eagle, a memory that felt close, almost within reach.

“Does it … have a name?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Jongho watched San carefully, sensing his growing interest. “Yes,” he replied, “Its name is Aven.”

The name jolted San from his thoughts, his eyes widening slightly. Jongho noticed his reaction, concern etched on his face. “San-hyung, is something wrong?”

San shook his head, his expression softening as he turned back to Jongho. “No… not really.” He gave Jongho’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “She must be taken care of one of the townspeople of JeoKang kingdom, so she'll be fine. We’re still looking for her.”

Jongho’s shoulders relaxed slightly, but a quiet sigh escaped him. “I know. She’s tough. Some people even call her a dragon.”

San’s eyes lit up with curiosity. “A dragon?”

Jongho nodded, his voice steady with admiration. “Yeah. People say she has the spirit of a dragon—untouchable, unbreakable. It’s like she has this invisible armor that shields her, that nothing can penetrate. And when she feels strongly about something, it’s like she breathes fire. Her words, her passion… she doesn’t hold back. But even with that fierce spirit, she’s one of the most protective people I know.”

San nodded absentmindedly, a gentle smile playing on his lips as he absorbed Jongho’s words. “She really does sound like a dragon,” he murmured, as if hearing the description of you had brought you back into the room, even if only for a moment.

As he stood to leave, he made his way to the door, but paused when he heard Jongho’s voice.

“San-hyung…”

San turned, amused by the nickname. “Yes, Jongho?”

Jongho gave him a small, knowing smile. “She likes you, you know.”

San’s eyes widened, a rush of warmth spreading across his face. He stammered, struggling to form a response, his usual composure faltering. “I—I… I’ll believe it when she’s the one to say it,” he managed to reply, clearing his throat as he turned back to the door, his cheeks tinged with a hint of red.

With one last glance over his shoulder, he stepped out, closing the door quietly behind him. He leaned against the wall in the hallway, exhaling a deep, shaky breath as he placed a hand over his chest, feeling the rapid thrum of his heart. A faint smile ghosted across his lips as he made his way back to his library office, the thought of your smile and the possibility of your feelings lingering in his mind.

The rich scent of honey and herbs wafted through the room as you cradled a steaming cup of tea. Across from you, your mother settled into her chair, her gaze warm yet contemplative. The little girl beside her—Hyunjin, as she was introduced to you—kicked her legs in delight as she munched on the bread you had given her earlier. Watching your mother smooth Hyunjin's hair and gaze at her with such tender care pulled at your heart, reminding you of countless moments from your own childhood. Memories surfaced of your mother comforting you, teaching you, and showing you an unwavering love, which seemed now to have extended itself to Hyunjin.

“So … what really happened here?” you asked softly, savoring the honeyed tea as you awaited her answer.

Your mother’s gaze met yours, serious but gentle. “Jeong Yunho and Kang Yeosang were half-brothers,” she began. There was a weight in her words, a gravity that seemed to reach beyond the bounds of a simple family story. She held your gaze as she continued, “Even with only half of the same blood, they were meant to rule.”

“Meant to rule… but also to be part of this curse,” you murmured, following her lead.

Your mother’s face softened, but her sigh carried the weight of years of sorrow and mystery. She turned her gaze out the window, eyes distant as if recalling a memory she had long tried to bury. “They were symbols of hope and kindness. Whenever they helped us, we felt a spark—a reminder of the goodness they brought into this world.”

You tilted your head, curiosity piqued. “But what happened to them? What exactly was this curse?”

She shook her head, her brows knitting together. “I don’t know, my darling. The night before their coronation, we were all ready to celebrate. But instead of festivities, we only received word from the palace speaker about their sudden disappearance. No one knew where they went, and no one dared to ask.” Her voice held a sadness mixed with regret, as if she wished she could have done something to prevent it.

You felt a strange sense of unease stirring within you, knitting your brows together as your mind traced back to the celebration in the Kim Kingdom. You thought of the strange, flickering sparks that had danced in your hands, the feeling that something was watching, waiting. Pieces of memory and intuition fell into place, forming a half-completed puzzle in your mind.

“When was their celebration?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper, a hunch taking root in the back of your mind.

“Three months ago. Why do you ask?” she replied, a hint of concern crossing her face.

Your heartbeat quickened as the timing became clear. It had been about two and a half months since you’d arrived in this universe, just before the Kim Kingdom’s celebration and the appearance of the curses. Now, only Wooyoung and San kingdoms remained untouched by the strange wave of misfortune sweeping through these lands.

“What about the Jung Kingdom? When is their anniversary?” you pressed.

Her gaze flicked to a makeshift calendar pinned on the wall, eyebrows drawn in thought. “I’m not certain… but I believe the kingdoms celebrate with about three months’ difference between them. My friend mentioned that the Jung Kingdom was the first to celebrate, followed by the JeoKang, then the Kim Kingdom—”

A realization struck like lightning. “San!” you exclaimed, standing up so suddenly that a sharp pain shot through your leg, making you wince. Your mother’s brows drew together in a frown as she urged you to sit down, her eyes laced with concern.

“I don’t know what’s on your mind, but you must stay focused,” she cautioned. “You’re here for a reason. Find it and don’t let anything deter you.”

Her words anchored you as you sank back into your chair, feeling the weight of her advice settle in. A growing determination flickered within you, strengthening your resolve. You were piecing together a story that seemed set on a tragic course, yet you knew now that you could change its path.

You are starting to think that this story you are trying to navigate to its happy ending has its fixed plot yet an unidentified ending.

“Just because we’re in a different universe doesn’t mean you have privileges. Think about living but with more control of what you can do.” You nodded, smiling, “Just one more thing,” you murmured, and she raised a curious brow. “Could I borrow a lamp?”

That afternoon, after your mother’s insistence on caution and Hyunjin’s pleas to accompany you, you set out alone. Her worried gaze lingered on you as she pressed the small lantern into your hand, her fingers grazing your cheek with a gentle touch.

“Please be careful. You could have just let this pass first so you can heal your leg.” You look down at your casted leg but you sigh, looking back up at her, “I don’t have much time mom. I don’t know if I have two weeks or less before the Choi Kingdom faces their curse wave— it could be worse than that but let’s not hope for it.”

She sighs knowing that you were right as much as she wants you to be scolded, she only gave you the lamp that you were requesting. Her hand hovers on your cheeks, a smile on your lips as she leans in and places a sweet kiss on your forehead, leaning her forehead to yours, “Come back home, okay?”

Your throat tightened, but you smiled and nodded, whispering, “I always come back home.”

After a few teary departures, you made your way to the palace. The trees swayed gently in the wind, shadows played across the forest path as you climbed the stairs to the palace doors, feeling a chill roll over you as you crossed the threshold, you huffed glaring at the stairs before you pushed the door open.

The air was heavy with silence, broken only by the soft creak of the ancient door as it closed behind you. You made your way towards the throne. The two thrones, like always, were covered in vines, dried or new. You sigh, brushing a dried leaf, only for the vines to writhe and retract, curling defensively around the throne as though it were a living creature. Your eyes widen as you let go, looking at the vines, you only now realize how they were moving so slowly up close like snakes circling its prey.

“Woah …”you whispered, tracing the vines with your gaze, saw that much of the vines were everywhere, the floor, the walls and up to the ceiling, following some of them and it leads you to a broken floor to ceiling window that leads outside— a garden park of the palace.

Outside, the remnants of grandeur lay in ruins. The bushes dried, rusty chair set ups and water of the fountain had either dried out or were full of moss. You walk down the rocky path, the rocks crashing underneath your foot. Yet in the midst of decay stood a statue, tall and proud—carved likenesses of the two brothers, Yunho and Yeosang. Their expressions were solemn yet kind, and as you looked up at them, an eerie silence settled over the garden.

“Where have you both disappeared?”you whispered to the statue, feeling the weight of their absence. At that moment, an eagle’s piercing cry shattered the stillness. You looked up, startled, to see the bird perched atop Yunho’s stone head, blinking down at you.

As crazy as it sounds and in a moment of desperation, you cupped your hands around your mouth and called, “Do you know where the brothers are?” It only looks at you, blinking. You knew you won’t gain anything but you were expecting at least a lead but of course, not everything is laid out for you.

Sighing, your hands fell on your side as you made your way to sit on the bench. You look around, at least trying to find something that will help you find another clue. You lean back on the bench, sighing as you look up on the statue, “Just tell me where you guys are. We don’t have ti— AHH!” The bench you were sitting on suddenly tilted backwards and you were greeted with darkness but you can feel your back and yourself sliding downwards in a speed.

You were screeching until you suddenly halted into a stop. You cough when you realize you were now laying down on your back and dirt dust everywhere, you slowly pushed yourself up as you swat your hand in the air, coughing until everything was clear yet it was dark.

You look around, barely seeing anything, sighing as you know what you have to use. You look down to your hand, “Don’t fail me now.” With a flick of your wrist, a small amount of flame ignited. You chuckle in disbelief as you rose your hand up to your face, “Well at least you’re still here.”

The dim light revealed rough walls and a narrow corridor, seemingly untouched by time. As you turned, preparing to move forward, a face appeared mere inches away from yours, startling you into a scream. You stumbled back, pain flaring in your injured leg.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” came a gentle voice, filled with both apology and surprise. You look up in shock. You were either seeing things because of the dark or because of your desperation to find the brothers or the answer of their disappearance.

Through the dim light, you took in the figure before you. In front of you, clad in the same outfit as the rest of the cousins— but this one covered in dirt, is Jeong Yunho. You take in his appearance and it seems like he did go missing for a long time as his feet were no longer covered in shoes and bare instead, clothes torn and covered in different dust and the dishevelled look on him.

“Prince Yunho?!” Even with his appearance, he still bows to you formally. “As you call.”

“How… How long have you been here?” You tried to stand, but the pain pulsed through your body, forcing you back down. Heart pounding, you looked up at Yunho, his face framed by the dim light. He noticed the strain in your expression and lowered himself to your level, a gentle insistence in his eyes. “Please, stay seated.”

His gaze softened, a flicker of hope breaking through the weariness etched on his face. “I don’t know exactly, my lady. Ever since that night, daylight hasn’t reached me again.”

Settling yourself more comfortably, you extended a hand between the two of you, as if bridging the gap of lost time. “The night of your coronation anniversary?”

Yunho shook his head with a sad, almost nostalgic chuckle. “No, not quite. That was a misunderstanding. The kingdom celebrated its anniversary, not our coronation. But over time, people began to think of them as one and the same.”

The air grew heavier as silence settled around you both, layered with the weight of shared understanding, secrets unspoken yet felt. You took a steadying breath, finally daring to voice what lingered between you. “Were you… cursed?”

His eyes widened, a momentary spark of shock and recognition passing over them as he processed your question. “How did you…?” he began, before trailing off, his voice barely above a whisper.

“It’s… complicated,” you admitted, feeling the strange familiarity of the moment. “I may not be from here, but I am here to help. To save you… all of you.”

A glimmer of fragile hope illuminated Yunho’s face, his eyes brightening with a feeling he had long forgotten. It was as if, after all this time, the shadows that had ensnared him were finally loosening their grip. Memories of his brother’s distant, desperate calls flooded his mind—the last trace of family he had clung to, and his one worry left in the dark, still haunting him. But now, as you sat here, he felt a warmth flooding him, the promise of deliverance finally within reach. He looked at you, his voice a soft murmur of gratitude. “Thank you…”

With a gentle smile, you extended your hand, offering the simplest of introductions to solidify your shared resolve. “I’m Brigid.”

Yunho took your hand, his fingers wrapping around yours with surprising warmth. For the first time since he’d been trapped, something beyond despair welled up within him—a new dawn, rising slowly but surely.

One week later…

Jongho jolted awake to the lively sounds of bustling footsteps and voices just outside his door. Still groggy, he rubbed his eyes and shuffled to the doorway, squinting in surprise at the sight of maids rushing back and forth, carrying gowns, trays, and elaborate decorations. He barely had a moment to register the commotion before stumbling back, almost colliding with San, who appeared suddenly, flanked by Hongjoong and Wooyoung.

“Ah…” Jongho muttered, confused, as San nudged him back into his room. Hongjoong’s critical gaze swept over him, eyes narrowed with appraisal as he circled him like a hawk assessing its prey. Shifting awkwardly, Jongho asked, “Uh… Is something going on here?”

Wooyoung squealed with excitement, darting to Jongho’s wardrobe. He threw open the closet doors, rummaging through clothes with impressive speed—some landing on the bed, others strewn across the floor. San, calmer but clearly amused, simply shrugged and said, “It’s the kingdom’s anniversary. You’re expected to join the ball tonight. It’s a big event.”

“Ball? Anniversary?” Jongho echoed, furrowing his brows. “Wait, no one told me about this.”

Without missing a beat, Wooyoung approached, reaching to smooth Jongho’s hair. Jongho instinctively leaned back, bumping into the doorframe, only to feel Hongjoong’s hands firmly grip his shoulders as he expertly measured Jongho’s torso.

“Our kingdom celebrates this every year,” San explained, watching as Jongho gradually accepted the preparations. “It’s a tribute to our founders, honoring their sacrifices and dedication. A tradition to remind us of who we are.”

Jongho looked at San, his intrigue growing. “And the ball… it’s part of this, too?”

San nodded, a hint of nostalgia in his expression. “Yes. The ball is a symbol of unity and strength, with dances to show honor. Offering one’s hand to a woman signifies a promise to protect and cherish her heart.”

A mix of admiration and nerves stirred in Jongho as he glanced at his friends. “You’ll be there too, right?” he asked, eyes flicking to Wooyoung.

Wooyoung’s usual brightness dimmed, his gaze softening as a bittersweet smile crossed his face. “Yes… This time, I won’t leave.”

He turned away, and his fingers absentmindedly brushed his collar as his thoughts drifted. He remembered the last time he’d seen you, a memory laced with anguish. You had clung to him, crying, as he lay gravely injured. Since then, he had scoured every corner of the land, calling on the winds for guidance, each attempt ending in frustration and heartache. When the Kim family had allowed you to embark on that ill-fated journey, he’d confronted them, fury simmering beneath his composed exterior. Hongjoong’s words still haunted him: *“Predicting the future doesn’t mean avoiding it. Sometimes, we have to face it, no matter the cost.”*

Hongjoong, too, had been shaken when he learned of your disappearance, an unexpected pang of sorrow piercing his heart despite knowing you only as “the savior.” Even Noella had been taken aback, realizing that while they could foresee certain events, some paths remained hidden in the mist—part of a larger, elusive fate.

A quiet voice interrupted Wooyoung’s thoughts. “Woo…”

He glanced in the mirror, meeting San’s concerned gaze. Wooyoung’s distance from everyone, even from San—his closest cousin and confidant—had not gone unnoticed. San understood; he knew the ache of a missing friend, a piece of one’s life suddenly gone.

“You should be with your father by now, welcoming the guests,” Wooyoung said, his voice unintentionally cold, though he didn’t mean it. A trace of bitterness lingered—San had been part of the mission that had taken you from them.

San sighed, nodding slowly. “Woo, I’m sorry. I promised I’d protect her, to make up for my past mistakes… I really did try.” He looked away, guilt casting a shadow over his face. “Head Guard Seonghwa’s made some progress—he’s on his way to Yunho and Yeosang’s kingdom tonight, following a lead.”

Wooyoung’s tense posture softened, and he turned to face San fully. “I hope… I hope they bring us good news.”

The weight of unspoken words settled between them, and Wooyoung felt his own exhaustion seeping through. His eyes softened as he looked at San. “San, I’m… sorry too.”

San, recognizing Wooyoung’s vulnerability, stepped closer and pulled him into a brotherly embrace. “You’re not alone, Woo. I’m here, Jongho’s here, and we’re not going anywhere.”

Wooyoung let out a small, choked laugh, feeling a bit of the heaviness lift as he thought of Jongho, who had recently stumbled into their world and was adjusting with endearing reluctance. San ruffled his hair playfully, breaking the somber mood, and made for the door. Wooyoung shot him an annoyed look, batting San’s hand away.

“Yah! Do you know how long it took me to get my hair perfect?” he protested, turning back to the mirror to fix it.

San smirked, his playful jab lightening the room’s atmosphere. Just before leaving, he poked his head back in with a mischievous grin. “Better hurry up! Your mother’s here, and she expects you to help greet the guests.”

Wooyoung’s eyes widened, spinning around in shock. “Wait—she’s what?!”

After what felt like an endless journey through the dim, damp tunnels, you finally emerged into the late afternoon light. Yunho blinked, shielding his eyes as the sunlight washed over him. It was as though he had been reborn, stepping from a shadowed past into a world that seemed painfully bright. For a moment, he simply stood there, taking in the warmth, savoring the air with deep breaths, as if he were inhaling hope itself.

But his relief was short-lived. His gaze fell upon the once-vibrant palace grounds, now overtaken by silence and decay. The gardens he remembered as lush and colorful were now choked with weeds and vines, abandoned and forgotten. His heart sank, his shoulders drooping as the reality of his kingdom’s abandonment struck him like a physical blow. He whispered, almost to himself, "Everyone… left."

You glanced over at him, feeling the weight of his despair settle in your chest. Words felt useless in the face of such loss, yet you reached out, placing a comforting hand on his arm. “True loyalty remains,” you said gently. “Sometimes, even when all hope seems gone, that loyalty endures. And those with kindness can still revive it.”

Yunho looked at you, your words reaching past his sorrow. A small, grateful smile softened his expression. “Thank you, Brigid,” he murmured, the name holding a new depth as he regarded you with a trust and fondness that hadn’t been there before.

Just then, a familiar cry pierced the air. Yunho’s head snapped up, his face lighting up with a joy that was startling in its intensity. He extended his arm, and an eagle swooped down, landing gracefully on his forearm. Yunho chuckled, stroking the bird’s proud feathers with a tender hand. “Aven,” he said, relief and affection flooding his voice.

You smiled at the sight, noting the uncanny resemblance between the two. Aven’s feathers—faded blond and brown, like sun-kissed earth—seemed to mirror Yunho’s own windswept hair. “He must have been searching for you all this time,” you murmured, marveling at the loyalty between them.

With a warm laugh, Yunho lifted his arm, letting Aven take flight once more. The bird circled above, as if signaling there was still work to be done. Yunho’s face grew serious, the joy fading as he looked back at you. “He knows there’s one more person to find.” His eyes met yours, determination flickering like fire. “Will you help me find my brother?”

You hesitated, caught between relief and the daunting journey ahead. Part of you longed to return, to bring back the fragments of hope you had gathered. But something deeper bound you to this place—a feeling that this mission was far from complete and that both kingdoms, perhaps even more lives, hung in the balance.

Steeling yourself, you met his gaze. “Yunho, I don’t often ask for favors in return for my sake, but I’ll need your assistance. And it’s not only for me. This search affects you, your brother, and the fate of your kingdom.”

A flicker of understanding crossed Yunho’s face, and he nodded, accepting the weight of your words and the sudden weight of his invisible crown. “Anything, Miss Brigid. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

With a deep breath, you pressed on. “Once we find your brother, I need answers. I need to know the truth about Brigid and the curse that haunts your people.” His expression shifted, a mixture of surprise and reluctance. Few dared to speak openly of the goddess or the curse, words whispered only in shadowed corners and distant memories. But he sensed your resolve and, with a nod, accepted the responsibility of revealing the buried past.

Side by side, you moved toward the palace, each step a deeper descent into the kingdom’s forgotten secrets. The once-grand hallways were draped in vines, twisting over marble columns and intricate carvings. Green tendrils clung to the walls like unnatural veins, as though the palace itself were bound and suffocated by its own sorrow.

When you brushed one of the vines, it recoiled with a sharp hiss, startling both you and Yunho. “This isn’t normal, is it?” you asked, watching as the vine writhed like a living creature.

Yunho shook his head, his expression wary. “These vines… they’re like cursed sentinels. They sense intruders and cling to whatever life they find.” The vines seemed to shift and sway as you followed them, leading you deeper into the forgotten parts of the palace, places even Yunho rarely ventured.

The air grew colder, and an unsettling stillness wrapped around you as shadows deepened. Finally, the vines guided you to a hidden chamber, one untouched by time but heavily guarded by thick, twisting roots. At its center, wrapped in a monstrous snarl of vines and shadow, lay Yunho’s brother, Yeosang, imprisoned and barely recognizable.

Yunho’s breath caught in his throat, a strangled cry escaping him as he stumbled forward. “Yeosang…” he whispered, desperation and fear cracking his voice.

You placed a steadying hand on Yunho’s shoulder. “We’ll find a way to release him. But first, we must understand what binds him here.”

“Yeo!” Yunho’s voice echoed, his shout piercing the eerie silence of the garden. The ground trembled, and the twisted vines around you seemed to awaken with a hiss, vibrating with a sinister life of their own. Both you and Yunho stepped back instinctively as the vines, now alive and hostile, wriggled and coiled, their barbed edges glinting like sharp fangs in the faint light. They were no ordinary plants; they guarded something—someone—with a fierce, unnatural protectiveness. Your gaze darted to Yeosang’s unconscious body, entangled and held captive within the thick, snakelike tendrils. Though he lay still, his chest rose and fell in a faint rhythm; he was alive.

Suddenly, you felt a vine wrap around your ankle, squeezing tighter against your injury. You gasped, clawing and pulling at it, but the more you struggled, the tighter it constricted. “Miss Brigid!” Yunho’s voice drew your attention. You looked over to see him, arms and legs bound by more vines, his face contorted in pain as he fought against their relentless grip.

“Yunho…” you gasped, panic rising as more vines slithered around your legs, winding their way up slowly, each movement deliberate, as though savoring your terror. The thorned tendrils crawled across your torso, tightening across your ribs, climbing toward your neck. Your breathing grew shallow as your hands, trembling, attempted to pry them loose.

“Yunho… Is this Yeosang’s curse?” you managed to ask, straining to keep your voice steady amidst your fear.

Yunho struggled to respond, his voice muffled by the vines encasing him. “From what I’ve seen… yes, it must be! But I don’t know how it works!” His answer sparked a desperate search through your mind, grasping for any memory, any detail from books you’d read about Prince Yeosang. But the histories were vague, shedding light only on his gentle nature, his love for peace, and his connection to the garden—the very place that now seemed to be his prison.

“Yeosangie … He is always a kind prince to everyone.” Yunho muffles as he struggles within the hold of the vines, his voice tinged with sorrow. His face softened in memory, and for a brief moment, you saw the look of a brother missing his sibling’s laughter and light-hearted innocence. “The garden … that his place. His solace.”

The words hung in the air, lingering like a clue. You turned them over in your mind—kindness, the garden, a place of solace. And then it clicked. The curse wasn’t harming Yeosang; it was protecting him, preserving him in twisted vines of his own making, his kindness turned into a trap to keep him safe yet hidden from the world.

“Kill them with kindness… “ You whisper. You look at the vines as they are starting to tighten, “Yunho … “ He was trapped underneath the garden of his brother because he was the hope. The sun shines but it never reaches the townspeople because all hope was lost because that was Yunho’s curse. He was the hope of people and by hiding him from the darkness, hope cannot be found until someone kind finds his way.

Hope is the last one to find. Just like Pandora's box. It all started clicking together as you chuckle airly as it felt all too well and good to finally solve.

“Kill them with kindness they say …” Desperate, you closed your eyes, focusing inward, summoning the warmth that lay dormant in you. You rotated your wrists, a small flame flickering to life in your hands. The light immediately drew a reaction—the vines hissed and shrank back, loosening just enough to let you wriggle free.

And with the light, the vines all hisses away from you, letting you go in the process. With a painful thud, you hit the ground, looking up at the glowing flame in your hand, “Argh!”

You stood up, patting your butt, “Geez … Okay Yunho .. this might sting!” You raise your fist, the flames dance across your knuckles, you smirk your eyebrows arching in surprise, “Good to know you are still with me.”

With a swift punch, you drove the fire into the thickest part of the vines. They screeched, the flames burning through their dark coils, and they immediately released Yunho, dropping him unceremoniously to the ground.

His heart pounded as he took in your appearance. A fist of fire in a blue dress and fiery hair. He had never seen it coming true in his life, it was just an image in his dreams and now, “Brigid …” Yunho’s eyes widened as he took in your power, but before he could fully process it, the vines twisted into a frenzy, reacting to the flames with an even fiercer rage. They writhed and snapped, lashing out at anything within reach, their movements erratic and frenzied as they sought to defend their hold on Yeosang.

“I’ll explain later,” you shouted over the chaotic noise. “But I figured it out—Yeosang’s curse is a twisted kindness, one that traps him in this garden for his own protection… And you, Yunho��you’re the kingdom’s hope. That’s why the darkness was drawn here, to hide you away.”

��Pandora’s box …” Yunho mumbles as it becomes clear to him too. He was a man full of hope and dreams to his kingdom yet when the time he was buried under the depths of the garden, it felt like a part of him had vanished, making him weak and fragile until light— you came.

“We just have to finish this and see if we can deal with more of your curses.” You focused on keeping the flames steady, the heat radiating from your hands as you burned through the thick vines that coiled around Yunho's brother. But as you burned away one tangle, another would rise up from the darkness, snapping viciously. It was a relentless fight, and even with the flames, the vines seemed almost endless, replenishing themselves with every inch you gained.

Pain flared up your leg, making you falter, “Shit …” Yunho looked at you but you brushed him off as you fought, a thick vine crept silently along the ground, slithering behind you, its barbed surface gleaming in the dim light. You were too focused on the vines in front of you to notice it as it reared back, preparing to strike. But Yunho’s sharp gaze caught it just in time.

“Watch out!” he shouted, darting forward with a speed that surprised you.

In one swift motion, Yunho grabbed your shoulder, pulling you out of harm’s way, and held you close to his chest as he thrust his sword forward— to which you do not know where it came from but it did— intercepting the vine just before it could strike, its thorned edge narrowly missing your side. The vine hissed in fury as it met the steel of Yunho’s blade, twisting wildly as it tried to pull back. But Yunho held firm, gritting his teeth as he forced the sword deeper, severing the vine in one powerful motion.

“They’re faster than they look,” he warned, his gaze intense as he positioned himself protectively in front of you.

A surge of vines lunged toward him, their thorned edges aimed directly at him. Yunho swung his blade with precision, slicing through each tendril as they came, his movements fluid yet fierce. He fought with a desperate strength, each strike filled with a sense of duty, as if protecting you was his only mission. But the vines were relentless, and for every one he cut down, two more seemed to replace it, their thorny coils trying to wrap around him, restricting his movements.

Seeing him struggle, you summoned your flames once again, directing a burst of heat toward the vines attacking him. The fire danced along the vines, burning them away from Yunho’s path. He gave you a quick nod of gratitude before pressing forward, slicing through another wave of snapping tendrils.

Suddenly, a larger vine burst from the shadows, its thick, snake-like body heading straight toward you with blinding speed. Yunho’s eyes widened, and he lunged, catching the vine mid-air with his sword. But this one was stronger, and the force of the impact knocked him back a step. The vine coiled around his blade, trying to wrest it from his grip.

Struggling against the vine’s strength, Yunho gritted his teeth, muscles straining as he pushed back, determination blazing in his eyes. “I’m not letting them take you,” he muttered, driving his blade deeper into the vine as he twisted it free with a powerful shove.

The vine recoiled, thrashing as it retreated, but not before lashing out in one last attempt. In a final burst of strength, it snapped toward you, the barbed end hurtling in your direction. Without a moment’s hesitation, Yunho stepped in, shielding you with his own body as the vine’s thorns sliced across his shoulder, leaving a shallow but painful cut.

Ignoring the pain, he pushed you behind him, raising his sword defensively. “Stay close to me,” he commanded, his voice low but fierce.

With Yunho guarding your back, you focused on your flames, pouring every ounce of your energy into the fire, illuminating the entire chamber with an intense glow. The vines hissed and recoiled, unable to withstand the flames’ heat. You directed the fire toward the thick, coiled mass that held Yeosang, watching as the flames burned away the final layer of vines.

Finally, with one last searing blaze, the vines shriveled and fell away, leaving Yeosang’s unconscious form free at last. His pale face was covered in dirt and faint scratches, but he was breathing.

You both moved quickly, Yunho helping to lift his brother while keeping an eye on any remaining vines. His shoulder was still bleeding, but he waved off your concern, his focus solely on getting his brother to safety.

As you left the chamber, a sense of triumph and relief settled over you. Yunho glanced at you, a faint smile breaking through the exhaustion on his face.

“He’s okay,” he said, his voice soft but filled with sincerity. You sigh in relief, your flames disappearing as you knelt beside Yunho as you took in Yeosang’s feature. Aside from your friends and Seniors in your university— Yeosang is a stranger to you. Yet his statue, perfect tan skin and his plump lips made him still look so handsome despite being confined in the vines for more than many months now. You look out of the window to see the sun had already set.

“Yunho, I may know someone that can help you both for tonight.”

Standing with a small smile on your lips as your mother gasps quietly on her spot before moving towards the living room, “Come in! I’ll prepare the living room!” As you enter her home, Yunho carries an unconscious Yeosang inside, guiding them as Yunho settles him on the soft cushions of the sofa. You watched her work, feeling a sense of comfort in the familiarity of her presence.

You watch to the side whilst your mother speaks to Yunho as he helps your mother clean Yeosang up.

“They’re okay…” You look at Hyunjin as her mouth was gape open, gazing at the two princes whilst squeezing her doll. Your eyes trailed on the doll then remembering the images, the stained mirror back in the palace.

“Hyunjin…” you murmured, kneeling beside her. “Do I… look like her?” The question felt strange, as if pulled from a memory you didn’t quite own.

Hyunjin giggled, her innocent eyes sparkling. “She is you.”

“Brigid …” Your eyes travel to your mother, she looks worn out after taking care of the two princes. You smile at her, placing a hand on Hyunjin’s head as you and your mother move towards the outside of the house.

Later, as the house settled into quiet, your mother joined you outside. The night air was brisk, and the stars seemed to shimmer with an otherworldly light. She placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. “You did well, honey,” she murmured, a note of pride in her voice.

The night had grown colder, the wind had picked up the pace as it blew harsher coldness. You sigh, removing your coat to place it on your mother, it was just a thin coat you got from Lucy. “Prince Yeosang is okay, dehydrated and malnourished but he will be fine as for Prince Yunho, he is doing well, slightly shaken up but he will be fine.” You nodded as you looked around. Silence covers you both like a blanket but your mother has spoken again.

“Did you find out about their curse?” You nodded, “Prince Yeosang wasn’t cursed but his kindness is what held him captive and Yunho had been trapped in his own misery.” Your mother nodded as she smiled at you.

You leaned on your mother, “How can I break their curse and set them free?” Your mother sighs, placing a comforting hand on top of your head, soothing you down.

“That is for them to know and you to find out honey.” You sigh deeply, looking up at the night sky.

“It’s hard to keep going when you don’t have a clue…” Your mother’s face softened, taking in the weight of your words. She didn’t know everything happening around you, only that this place had changed in unexpected ways over the years.

“I know,” she said, “but what I do know…” She gently grasped your shoulders, turning you to face her as her comforting gaze met yours. “I know my daughter wouldn’t give up so easily, no matter the challenges, even if she gets hurt…” Her eyes flicked down to your injured ankle, prompting a small chuckle from you before she continued. “Or lost…”

“Or pressured,” she added, “she always finds her way back to her own path.” Tears welled in your eyes as you smiled, and you pulled her into a tight hug, taking in the familiar warmth and scent of her embrace. Suddenly, Hyunjin came running out of the house, panic flashing in her eyes.

“Mommy! Prince Yunho and Prince Yeosang are acting strange!” You exchanged a quick glance with your mother before both of you dashed inside.

You froze, heart pounding, as you took in the scene around you. Dark, twisting vines had invaded the house, snaking up from the floorboards and crawling across the walls, relentless and alive. They slithered in through the windows, curling around furniture and creeping up the wooden beams, consuming every inch of the space they touched. They were just like the ones you’d seen before, but this time, they seemed angrier, more menacing—alive with a dark energy that made the air heavy and hard to breathe.

In the center of it all, Yunho stood motionless, ensnared by the thickest of the vines. His arms were pinned to his sides, and one thick tendril coiled around his face, covering his eyes, leaving him helpless and vulnerable. His usually calm, reassuring presence was now ghostly, as if he were barely there at all, swallowed by the curse that had wrapped itself around him.

“Yunho…” you called out, voice trembling. You took a tentative step forward, but a loud hiss from the vines echoed through the room, sharp and angry, halting you in your tracks. Instinctively, you threw your arm out in front of your mother, trying to protect her as best as you could from whatever dark magic was at play. She gasped, clutching your arm tightly.

“The curse… it’s active,” you whispered, each word heavy with dread. An icy fear curled around your heart as the realization set in. The wave you’d been dreading about—the one that would mark the Choi Kingdom’s celebration—had begun. A week had slipped by, and now the curse was moving, bringing with it a darkness that threatened to engulf everything.

You barely heard your mother calling out to you; her voice sounded faint, as if coming from a distance. A ringing filled your ears, drowning out her words and every other sound in the room. Fear sank into your bones, leaving you rooted to the spot. Shadows seemed to grow and dance at the edges of your vision, and a series of whispers, low and insidious, began echoing in your mind.

The whispers told you of failure, of helplessness, feeding into every doubt that had ever lingered within you. They spoke of the princes’ fates, of the doom that awaited them—all because of you. A hollow ache filled your chest as the shadows convinced you that you had failed them all, that you would never be enough to save them. You couldn’t even save Yunho, who now stood before you, trapped and silent.

The light in your eyes dimmed as the weight of these thoughts pressed down on you, making it hard to breathe. Everything blurred, colors fading into shadow. But then, through the haze, you caught a flicker of movement.

Yeosang was watching you, his gaze piercing through the darkness as he stepped toward you. There was something steady, unwavering, in his eyes—an intensity that broke through the fear clouding your mind.

“Wake up…” His voice was soft, yet it cut through the whispers, grounding you back into the moment. His hand reached out, and you felt a sudden, forceful tug, as if he were pulling you from the depths of a dark ocean.

The world spun as you were yanked backward, and then you felt yourself falling. You hit the dirt outside, the cold earth grounding you as the ringing in your ears finally ceased. Blinking rapidly, you became aware of Hyunjin’s distressed cries somewhere nearby. The sharp pang of reality jolted you fully awake, and you looked around, dazed and disoriented.

Your mother knelt beside you, concern etched across her face as she helped you sit up. “Honey? Oh my!” Her hands clutched your shoulders, and the warmth of her touch anchored you, steadying your racing heart.

You reached out instinctively, grasping her arm, grounding yourself in her familiar presence. As you did, a looming shadow fell over you. Startled, you turned to find yourself ranking your eyes upwards, standing just a few feet away, watching you with a serious, unreadable expression.

“M-Mingi?” you stammered.

taglist: @passerbyforfun . @seongwars . @candied-czennie . @ffenjoyerdazme

#ateez #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez scenarios #ateez choi san #san ateez #ateez san #choi san #ateez san fluff #ateez san x reader #ateez fluff #ateez atiny #choi san fluff #choi san x reader #choi san ateez

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scramratz · 4 months ago

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I understand the sentiment “nonbinary people don’t owe you androgyny”. It’s an objectively correct phrase! But…like…I’ve never seen anyone celebrating nonbinary folks who are androgynous? Who are visibly queer? Idk it’s starting so sound less like a breaking of expectations and more of “You don’t have to be one of THOSE queers”

#idk does that make sense #I WANT androgyny!#and never was I expected or celebrated for that fact

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dollypopup · 1 month ago

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one day fans will realize that treating real people like fictional characters and fictional characters like real people is, at the core of things, The Problem

#luke newton #nicola coughlan #polin #lukola #penelope featherington #colin bridgerton #bridgerton #the invasive speculation like you're doing meta analysis of a plotline and not REAL LIVES is deeply uncomfortable #people in real person shipping communities have to come to understand that they are not in fact a fan of the real people #you do not know and will never know the actuality of these celebrities you are a fan of #realize NOW that you are a fan of their PERSONAS and absolutely nothing else #and that the purpose of shipping is not 'oh they'll get together' (so i'm RIGHT) but instead 'i enjoy this dynamic'#the pressure of validation from people who owe you nothing is what makes fans upset #not real people's actions that harm no one #which means you hurt your own feelings and then spiral in circles about how you didn't get said validation #when you were never owed it and choose to put the onus of responsibility on others behaving how you want #and not placing the responsibility on YOURSELF to have reasonable expectations and respect the people you claim to stan #build the bridge and get over it #some of y'all mad disrespectful like these celebs don't straight up hate you for how you behave #as they are well within reason to do so

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allinsideyourhead · 1 year ago

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Seven Psalms is out tomorrow(!!!), so for no reason in particular, here’s Paul in a pink t-shirt.

#paul in a pink t-shirt never misses #speculation of this album has been around since 2021 so it’s fair to say the excitement has been steadily building for a while #I have absolute trust in Paul based on his.. rather impressive (putting it mildly) track record #not that he owes anyone a damn thing #just the fact he’s releasing another album at 81 is a reason to celebrate in itself #but as per his ever-evolving musical style I’m sure this will be magical #I’ve been actively avoiding reviews that keep popping up because I want to hear it with almost no prior expectations aside from the trailer #paul simon #seven psalms

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ratatatastic · 23 days ago

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i love them drilling kuli about what kind of caviar he put in the cup and he just giggles like uh red? red caviar??? its not expensive >.>

"most russian thing ever" YEAH IT IS BABEY

LeBatard Show | 10.16.24 (x)

#dmitry kulikov #florida panthers #2425 #oh little miss giggles #he did not expect to get drilled about caviar and yet #im sorry i get excited when we get to mention cap celebrations but especially the caviar #the duh tone in his voice like ofc i put caviar in the cup im russian!!!#kuli never change #also the fact hes like this a nobrainer #sir you forget youre a chronic grass toucher and never update us on stuff #so many people had no idea when your day was or what you did until the cats posted about it #and even after the morning NO ONE KNEW YOU WERE ON A YACHT EATING CAVIAR CUT SOME PEOPLE SOME SLACK HERE 😭😭😭

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nerdie-faerie · 1 year ago

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Having a big family is too expensive. Where am I supposed to find the money for my brother's 20th, my cousin's 21st and graduation, my twin cousins turning 23, my other cousin turning 26 and having a baby all this month!! 😭

#Demon Spawn #+Extra #theres too much going on! and my mum doesnt tell me everything at once so i think i only have one purchase to worry about #and then she hits me with another one!! did you remember this? did you remember that? no i was still dealing with the last one #im sorry but siblings are prioritised then i gotta sort out my own sht if i can then afford all these other peoples things #when i dont even speak to them! then sure maybe ill get around to it but theyve all got more extravagant preferences which i cant afford 😅#most of them still live at home and dont pay rent let alone tuition i cant afford their expectations and having 4 cousin birthdays #in a month is ridiculous have you seen the price of postage? and you wanna add in graduations and a baby into it???#i probably sound like im btching about nothing to people who have a good relationship with their cousins but i never see them and even #when i do we dont talk its super awkward and we have nothing in common yet i gotta go spend money i dont have all at once on them #and i cant even say sht cus my mum arranged a 21st for me that i didnt want so they did end up getting me stuff #god i sound like such btch i just dont know these people and its stressful trying to get presents as is but so many occasions at once when #i have no clue is stressing me out right now its not that i dont want to celebrate its the sudden expenditure and the fact its not spread #out and that theres so many cus i already got 8 siblings and my mum is one of 5 and my cousins are getting older so theyre going through #milestones that require gifts too at the same time as their birthday

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skylordhorus · 2 years ago

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i think i like. fundamentally genuinely do not understand organised religion and i feel kinda bad abt it in case it makes me blunder and grossly offend large groups of people because i have a fundamentally different outlook on like. belief

#*deep space noises*#like not for lack of trying!!#i just. dont get all the rules?? which i then feel is corroborated by the fact that there are so many different denominations anyway #for every person i see saying smth like 'x people do/never do this!' etc i see another who does #and as a non religious person who already doesnt get why some ppl have strict rules for others in their same religion #who am i to question that #sry ive been musing because ive seen some posts angry abt the concept of secular christmas #which i Get. its a traditionally religious holiday + the expectation that everyone celebrates it is shit #but that doesnt mean that aspects associated with it CANT be secular for people??#there is a noticeable different between how christmas was approached at my cofe primary school and how my family and friends celebrate #ie. one was religious and one was not. both happened to have trees and lights and presents and father christmas #literally just set dressing to me #and what business of mine is it if a muslim neighbour also gets a tree or has a roast dinner because they find it fun #idk i just feel bad for all the ppl who inevitably get chucked under a bus for 'not doing the religion properly'#whenever i see sweeping statements of 'WE NEVER do this!!'

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therealbeachfox · 9 months ago

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

It was twenty years earlier than I ever expected to.

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

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

Join me below, if you would.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We had slightly miscalculated.

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

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

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

“Oh cool,” we go, “Backup.”

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

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

00000

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

00000

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

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

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

So.

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

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

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

Then it starts to rain.

We had not dressed for rain.

00000

Here is how the next six hours go.

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

Everyone is so happy.

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

People online start making delivery orders.

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

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

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

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

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

00000

We have Line Neighbors.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We stay in line.

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

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

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

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

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

We still have a -long- way to go.

00000

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then we're married.

Then we get in line to get our license.

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

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

We make it to the marriage records office.

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

It's almost 3PM.

00000

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

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

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

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

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

We get back to our car and climb in.

It’s 4:30 and we are starving.

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

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

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

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

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

00000

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that was that.

00000

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

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

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

I never thought I’d live in this world.

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

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

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

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

#gay marriage #gay rights #gay history #gay

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celestialmancer · 5 months ago

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...A h.

#neg vent sorta thing ig so. eugh. but just....#ig scroll past if this aint your thing lmao bc again not doin too hot but just.#realization that its fathers day this sunday & im just suddenly feeling all sorts of ick.#fathers day for myself just as mothers day for myself because i had to be my own fucking parents <3 #im sorry but i genuinely hate fathers day & ... neutral w mothers' day but yeah.#& with the fact that i wanna go minimal or no contact w my dad once i have the independence? well...#sorry not sorry but i will never find happiness in those days until i can heal my own issues w them both & esp w my dad but i suspect #that that wont be healed until he's. gone. out of my life. one way or another. i guess...#anyway i think i deserve to be celebrated for fathers' day as i had to be my own parent (both mother & father) <333 #& had to be the parent to my parents lmfaoooo & we aint gonna get into everythin theyve done in the past #jsut tired of this & esp tired w how my family expects me to get over it & forgive & just act like they never hurt me.

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foilflingza · 6 months ago

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my family bs is finally starting to weigh on me again

#fear me #being the only queer one in a family of right wingers is.... really exhausting #my mom and dad are only moderately right. while my brother steers hard right #my mom is the best out of them bc she actuallys calls me Brendan and has listened to me the most out of them all #but she can still be a lil weird #i see my friend's fams be really Really good and help them get on HRT and call them by their real names with ease #and even celebrate the fact theyre trans #while my brother tells me im like a 'female skater' and my dad still misgenders me #my family would be caught dead celebrating my queerness. celebrating who ia m #ive never been anything but weird and queer and all theyve done is be ashamed of it and pretend its not there #i expected it from my dad but it rly hurt when it came from my brother #he seemed like he was on board when i first told me. he said it was badass i changed genders. and that meant a lot #but hes slowly backpedalling more and it fucking hurts to see #i tried so fucking hard to get him to understand me. but he just fucking doesnt #im so fucking tired and i dont wanna cry over this #but holy fuck i really am a black sheep in this family #meanwhile my cis boyfriend is actively celebrating the fact im on HRT and is the most supportive cis person ive ever met #ugh i love him

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atrwriting · 11 months ago

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future problems — coriolanus snow x fem!wife!reader

hi everyone :) jumping on the bandwagon

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

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

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

anyways… here is future problems:

he never wanted to get married.

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

despised them.

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

and it would be you.

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

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

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

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

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

but then… oh, then…

then he saw your smile.

oh, your smile.

your fucking smile.

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

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

no one.

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

and it was… until he was sick.

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

however, he did not expect one problem.

and that would be you.

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

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

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

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

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

but he couldn’t finish the thought.

because you walked in.

smelling like fucking lilacs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

he scrunched his eyes at the door, swallowing hard.

however, he didn’t understand why.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

he had to know. he had to.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

why. why. why.

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

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

the act would drop. it always did.

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

and he fucking hated himself for it.

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

but you had kept reading for him.

he grew angry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

that would have to be righted immediately.

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

they always slip.

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

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

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

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

"good evening," you greeted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

so he went with what was natural: manipulation.

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

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

“what troubles you?” he asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“please,” he answered and nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

for research purposes, of course. only research purposes,

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

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

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

how had he not expected this?

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

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

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

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

good and honest. how fucking unfortunate.

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

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

he hated himself for the lilacs.

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

however, it didn’t.

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

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

he knew what he had to do.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“which one are you?” coriolanus inquired.

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

now was the time.

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

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

damn, he thought. didnt bite.

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

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

he nodded.

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

“i don’t understand.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

oh.

you invited him in to… to…

that he had not expected.

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

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

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

what was he to do?

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

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

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

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

he reasoned a reward was in order.

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

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

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

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

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

he shut the door behind him, keeping your gaze.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

he jumped then. “teeth,” he spat.

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

a low hum filled his chest.

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

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

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

you had to do something.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you nodded, looking into his eyes through the mirror.

he cocked an eyebrow.

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

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

oh… you were done for.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you grasped onto him and threw yourself back.

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

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

his breaths were heavy, similar to yours.

“corio…” you whimpered, almost whining.

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

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

“what’re you sorry for?” he demanded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“i promise,” you returned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

he chuckled darkly. "watch it, sweetheart."

---

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

-L xooxoxooxox

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