#but I hope it was satisfactory enough

[doevademe]

prompt: could you rewrite that amnesic Percy and ambassador Nico "first meeting" in the son of Neptune? except that, here, they're the same age and started dating just like Annabeth and Percy in canon. I m basically asking you to remake the canonical story to heal my heart 💔. Imagine a world where the series are not a complete disappointment romantically speaking. Nico and Percy are THE couple everyone is rooting for, Annabeth is actually a cool character of her own with a wholesome friendship with both Percy and Nico and no stupid son of Appollo.

“This is Percy Jackson,” Hazel presented him. “He’s a good guy. Percy, this is my brother, the son of Pluto.”

For a second, the boy's face matched his. The shock, the recognition, the longing. All the feelings Percy felt when he first saw the boy in the distance.

The next second it was gone. The boy held out his hand.

"Pleased to meet you," he said, voice tight. "I'm Nico di Angelo."

Percy frowned and took his hand, but instead of shaking it, he entwined their fingers together, making Nico's eyes widen.

"I know you, though," Percy said, pleased to see their hands still were a perfect fit. "You are important to me."

"W-what?" Nico asked, stuttering a bit.

"I'm so sorry!" Hazel said quickly, looking between the two of them. "Percy lost his memories, he doesn't know—"

"I remember some things," Percy said. "I remember your hands, gripping mine. I remember you, at a campfire, with a giant dog."

He got so close to the son of Pluto a true stranger would have taken a step back. He didn't know why, but something told him that Nico didn't want anyone to know the thing he would say next.

"I remember kissing you right after you finished a blue cake," he whispered against his ear. When he stepped back, he was blushing and looking at Hazel in panic, but she just looked bemused. "I remember liking it," he said in a louder voice.

Yes, he remembered a lot about Nico, even when his name had slipped his mind. He didn't know what sort of relationship they had, if they were together in secret, publicly or just friends fooling around.

But that Nico was important to him was never in question.

Nico's lip trembled.

"Percy I..." Nico turned around and gave deep, long breaths. "There's a lot I can't talk about. A lot I can't say. You... you will remember eventually."

"Help me?" He asked, pouting a bit. He knew from his memories Nico couldn't resist that. "All I know is that someone named Gaia is raising armies and marching against us."

"Gaia is the Earth goddess," he said, biting his lip. Percy remembered it used to be him doing that. "She urged her son Saturn to kill his father and take over, and after a long age, he and the Titans were deposed by the Olympians."

Percy blinked. He felt like he had heard this before.

"Gaia didn't like that," Nico continued. "So she took a new husband, Tartarus, and had the Giants, to attack the Olympians."

As Nico kept talking, Percy couldn't help but picture himself at 14, watching as Nico overexplained monsters and myths to him while fighting or running from danger.

"The real issue isn't the Giants or Gaia though," Hazel said. "It's that monsters refuse to stay dead. If a monster army is on its way then... there's no way we can win. We —Nico and I— think it's because Death—"

They were interrupted by Frank's shout. He hurried after Percy to get him ready to present him formally to the Legion. Percy looked back at Nico, worried.

"About us—"

"Later," Nico said. He seemed to hesitate before grabbing his hand and squeezing it. "I promise, Perseus."

And just like that, by saying his full name, Percy knew Nico meant it. Nico let go and he turned to speak to Hazel.

Percy sighed and followed after Frank.

[dirtytransmasc]

Hi! I’m really sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if you had any Aegon x Helaena x Aemond hcs? They circle my mind all day everyday lol!!

not a bother at all, I would never give up an opportunity to talk about our holy trifecta, as they plauge my mind day in and day out. so here are my Helaegond HC's (most of these are very soft and domestic and have no particular order)

Aemond got dragged into their relationship when Aegon noticed how glum he and hel were after the betrothal and wedding. he hoped letting them be together would make everything easier. it did. what he didn't know what just how much he could love his siblings. it doesn't take them long to realize maybe a three headed dragon was better than a two headed one, so to speak.

Aegon is needy as all hell. when it comes to receiving affections, he needs touch and quality time and words of affirmation, he needs it all the love and his siblings are so willing to give it him. Helaena likes to dote on him, whereas Aemond will 'give in' to his whining and begging (he secretly loves it, he's just an ass to the untrained eye)

Aemond is the most distant when it comes to receiving affections, which his brother and sister will not allow. they find he enjoys quality time the most, but touch is not unwelcome, and they make sure he feels welcome to ask for attention. its an ongoing battle to get that boy to allow himself attention, but they're armed, ready, and down for a challange.

Helaena likes gifts, body doubling, and quality times but in the nuerodivergent ways. gifts could mean giving her boys a pretty rock or a random trinket she found, or being given a new insect or oddity. quality time could be one of her boys heads in her lap as she talked about her latest favorite bug. she does like touch, just at certain times and in certain ways.

the boys keep every gift she gives them and makes sure to put them somewhere that she can see so she knows they care about them. they will also go to great lengths to fetch her bugs.

they are mischeivious, Aegon and Helaena more than Aemond, but he'll play along. they're always exploring the secret passage ways, stealing snacks from the kitchen, or escaping to Flea Bottom cause they're bored. Aemond is the voice of reason and uses his "mommy's favorite" privileges to get them out of trouble.

Aegon and Helaena share a room as they are officially betrothed, but Aemond always sneaks in during the night. Aegon needs to be spooned... by both of them, so he's always squeezed in the middle. he tends to use Helaena as a pillow, while altching onto his brothers arms as they wrap around his middle. Helaena likes to play with the boys's hair as they fall asleep, muttering feather light words that serve as a bit of a lullaby. Aemond, who is perpetually on guard (the other two try and make him less tense, but its to little avail most times) is the last to fall asleep, only after he's sure his siblings are safe and sound in their dreams. he's the one who holds the three together, literally, taking hold of both his brother and sister in a gentle but still vice grip, safely tucked under the covers.

Aegon and Aemond take turns being the insecure sibling. Aegon always doubts himself, his ability to love and be loved, to not let his drinking get out of hand again, that he can be a good brother. Aemond worries he is not enough, that he is invading Aegon and Helaena's marriage, that he was destined to be the second choice, that he will always be behind the others, that his scars are ugly. Helaena is always good at pulling them out of their heads, but so are the boys, at least the one not currently spiralling. those are the nights they stay up late, tangled together in a heap, bathed in moonlight. its not always words that are needed, just softness. other nights they will go over each and every one of their siblings perfectections and perfect imperfections, until all their minds are at ease.

Helaena loves going to Flea Bottom, more than either of her brothers could ever imagine. she loves the colors and the sounds and the vibe of all the people bustling around. she's someone who can see the art and divinity in just about anything, so going to see bustling marketplaces, nude shows, and crowded pleasure houses always leaves her with something philosophical to say that throws the boys through a loop. finding out their sweet sister was not so innocent or naive as she always most to view her was quite a surprise. its even better for her cause she has two guard dogs for brothers who make sure her visit goes undisturbed.

they will evade their duties for a day to go out on dragonback to find somewhere to hide away and have a day in the sun. they typically find a soft prairie to land in and lay out in the grass together until it gets late. they end up playing childish games like tag (normally Aegon starts that game, typically by annoying Aemond) or hide and seek.

most of the public has a sneakign suspicion that something is going on between the three, cause Aemond is always a tad too close to the couple than what is considered "normal" for a brother to be. for example, instead of taking his own seat at an event, he will sit with the pair or stand right behind them, giving them little space. Aegon always seems a little too touchy, too eager to hang off his brother or reach for her hand. Helaena is similar, allowing both of them inter her space when prior to truly falling for aegon, and aegon for her (as their was resentment after the forced betrothal, though not for each other, it took time for them to truly take to one another), she would barely allow anyone as close to her as she allowed the two of them. no one says anything though, for different reasons. many suspect and/or fear they will be a repeat of Aegon the Conquorer and his sister wives, which they are easily amused by.

there mother most likely knows, but also doesn't say anything. she knows if she tries to put a stop to it, they will only double down. if she supports it, they might become even more of a disaster. there's a silent agreement that no one says anything, for all of their sakes.

Aegon calls Helaena 'laena' whereas Aemond calls her 'hel". Aegon typically gets shortened to 'aeg' and Aemond to just 'aem' but if Aegon wants to annoy him he'll call him 'aemy' (he has a death wish possibly)

they all use pet names, but mostly Aegon. he loves to see 'laena smile over being called his dearest wife or love or queen. he likes seeing Aemond fluster over being called sweetheart. Helaena also uses pet names, typically simple things like love and dear. Aemond uses titles as petnames, cause the power dynamic gets him going, "sweet brother" "sweet sister" "my king" "my queen".

the boys being very doting and sweet during her pregnancy, wanting nothing more than to serve her every beck and call. both boys being absolute disasters when Helaena was delivering the babes, pacing her corridor when she kicked them out and holding her hands faithfully when she requests them, both scared shitless.

taking care of the kids is honestly their idea of bonding and strengthening their relationship. adding more little bodies to their cuddle pile at night. getting to bathe the kids together or struggling to make it through a meal without a mess. one of the three reading to both their siblings and their kids until they fall asleep. being parents is so fulfilling and doing it together makes them feel more connected.

Helaena having both her boys on a leash. they both essentially serve her willingly.

Aegon is sweet on his siblings, not always as brash as some would expect of him. he likes to hold Helaena's hand, just cause, or to kiss Aemonds eye when they're in private. he's not against a hug either, longing for intimate closeness that isn't sex.

the boys are experts in bugs cause they love listening to their site talk, so they've just picked up knowledge as times gone on.

when nervous or upset or stressed and on their own at the time, they tend to run their fingers over their wedding scars (they did it themselves without a Maester to help or advise them, and it was a bit of a heart of the moment sort of thing, so they accidently cut a bit to deep or too long, leaving them with distinct scarring between them). Aegon tends to pick at his lip where a little white scar hangs off the edge of his lip, ever so slightly raised. Helaena rubs at curve of her thumb and forefinger where her skin shines in the light. Aemond traces the length of the scar on his palm, back and forth, back and forth. they remember they have each other.

Aegon doesn't like to read but likes being read to. Hel and Aemond are always willing to read to him.

Hel likes to dance and her boys make sure to always indulge her. Aegon's not the best dancer. but the childish air of laughter is always worth it. Aemond certainly less clumsy, but stiff as a bored, which typically turns to playful teasing and childish arguing between him and Aegon.

Aemonds very protective and a bit possessive of his siblings, which gives them scary dog privileges (if he was scary in canon, he's terrifying with them as a throuple).

vaugely erotic sword training in the courtyard between Aemond and Aegon, Hel watching from the grass with her spider friend.

[spice below the cut cause I'm in the mood and have concepts I need to dump out of my head for my own well being]

Sex is frequent amongst them, especially as time passes and they become a strongly woven throuple. Aegon is forever eager, ready to be whatever he's needed to be; submissive, dominant, something in between. he just wants to touch and feel pleasure. Helaena is more reserved, but not against it at all, finding it to be a very sensual and emotional thing that is sacred to her and her brothers. Aemond is again, insecure that he's an intruder, but with a little bit of guidance, finds his confidence.

there is worry of bastards, but that only leads to the discussion of true valyrian marriage between the three of them. lets just say sexy blood rituals comense.

Aegon is easily the most skilled, so for the first couple times he's typically taking a guiding role. he knows all the little tips and tricks to getting his siblings off. he's also the most mouthy and uses his teeth a lot, especially when it comes to his brother. he's softer with their sister and lets himself be commanded around, service dom style. willing to get his hand (and mouth) messy.

Helaana is like a feather, light and soft, fluttering against her brother's skin, making them squirm with ease. she's also really good at dirty talk, but in such a regal and delicate manner. she can be quite bossy, but her boys are well behaved so it normally doesn't take much to get them to listen.

once Aemond is confident in his position he is very... mission focused. he's the one who tends to put Aegon on his back and really cultivates that needy subby side in him that Helaena had only began to uncover by the time he joined the pair. definitely the physically strongest of them all with a whole hell of a lot of stamina. he can take Hel and Aegon a few times before tucking out.

Aegon's loud as hell, gripping the sheets and not holding back a single sound. Hel's a bit quieter, but not silent. Aemond's gotta have all the right buttons pushed to hear a sound out of him (aegon see's this as a challenge)

Aegon cries every time they have sex. its just sorta his thing. its a big emotional release so he always ends up a little teary eyed.

aftercare typically consists of a nice long bath and cuddles.

[napping-sapphic]

Love is so freaky and messed up to the point that sometimes i do wish and hope SO badly that no one ever has to suffer being in love with me specifically because it honestly sounds absolutely unbearable

[spotsupstuff]

waaaaait you’re taking requests… hopy shit…. Ehhh errrr take your pick. Sig and moon bestie hours orrrr

this silly bozo. they’re a later gen iterator (hence the white eyes teehee *steals your hcs*) and full of reverence and passion for the world they live in <3 the tbh creature personified….. very socially anxious but will drop a several hour long infodump at any prompting

GOOD GRIEF HERE YE GO AUGH ten thousand gazillion (beautiful) colors biting my hand rn

[six-white-venus]

you asked for inspo so here:

"loneliness, habitually looking at your side and finding an empty space, late nights, missed calls, nostalgia"

(don't ask who hurt me lol)

i dream of him every day, you know? it’s been a year and two months since the last time we talked properly. more than 10 months since i saw his face. it’s summer of 2024 and i don’t know who i am to you. hell, i don’t know what i am to me, either. but when i close my eyes, i am in highschool and our shoulders are touching and i laugh at every stupid thing he says because of course i do. and his eyes always lit up when i did. in my dreams, he says that he loves me and that he’s sorry. but here’s the catch: i always know i’m dreaming.

to dream and know you’re dreaming is the greatest curse of them all. because it’s there, it’s right there, happiness that’s cotton candy sweet melting on your tongue it’s there it’s there but you know it’s not true. because you’ve never had cotton candy before and your mom has always told you girls with rotten teeth don’t deserve sweets. because he says he loves you. because he’s smiling and it’s not crooked and he says he loves you. because you’re thinking of him with a feather-light chest and not weeping into your best friend’s arms. because he says he loves you and your teeth is not rotten.

but i wake up and don’t cry. i miss him, but i don’t cry. i don’t even remember his face right but i miss him. but i don’t cry. when i do, it's always the stupidest things that set it off.

it's 11:30pm and i should be sleeping but here i am, staring at the tears staining my pillow and telling myself, "stop. stop crying. stop. why are you crying?"

it's all so incredibly stupid.

i can't play fight with my friends anymore because i'm afraid they'll just leave. i can't be mean for shits and giggles. because what if that's the breaking point? what if someone gets bored of my clown fuckery there and decides to give up on me. what will i do with my red nose and jester's hat and bleeding smile? what will i do?

i don't know if I miss you or miss who i was before you anymore. i don't remember what it felt like, to be so sure that i am loved. because i am, i know i am! but now with that knowledge comes a creeping whisper, "what's the price you have to pay to make them stay?"

i don't know. it terrifies me.

calls pile up on my phone and i hate that sometimes i can’t even care enough to be guilty about it. my friends text me often, “are you even alive? please call me back.” and i don’t know what to tell them. i don’t know who i am. can you come over? i’m afraid i’ll forget your face. can you come over? i’m afraid you’ll forget my face. can you come over? i am so lonely. can you come over? i can’t stop dreaming and nostalgia feels like a knife to my throat and i keep twisting it in deeper and deeper and deeper and-

can you come over? i don’t know why i can’t forget your laugh. i don’t know if i can ever stop screaming.

i look at my side and find it’s empty. i look for your photos in my gallery and come up empty because i deleted the last one a week ago. but it doesn’t matter, because they all look wrong, anyway. none of them know how you smile. none of them are real. none of them know you like i do. i can’t stop dreaming. i am a liar who knows he’s a liar and the knife twists deeper and why didn’t you look back? why can’t i stop dreaming?

[moodmoodthecrabking]

lesbian sheila young moodboard requested by @nibblelinephym

[moonlitkilljoy]

I really wanted to gif this pacific rim deleted scene because i love it a lot :-) you can find more deleted scenes here! i'm not sure if it's all of them, but it might be?

+ BONUS, which i made because i and some friends haven't been able to stop referencing these specific lines ^^

[sophieswundergarten]

🐝

I have so many ides, I couldn’t choose just one! Feel free to only answer one, a few, or all of them!

“Something tragic, but almost pure” (broken, lovelytheband)

“Wings of feathers, tails and fin tips” (Fish in a Birdcage, Fish in a Birdcage)

“Be my Wings (and My Eyes)” (Fish in a Birdcage, Fish in a Birdcage)

“It’s Cold and You’re Standing There (You’re Trying To Face your Greatest Fear)” (adapted from Don’t Throw Out My Legos, AJR)

“Sharks” (Imagine Dragons)

Okey-dokes! Here we go:

"Something Tragic, But Almost Pure" - SQ fic. GUESS WHAT, IT'S ABOUT THE CAVE SCENE AGAIN.

"Wings of Feathers, Tails and Fin Tips" - A more serious take on @nobodysdaydreams' Sirens of the Sea and Sky universe where some people are mermaids and some people are avian.

"Be My Wings (And My Eyes)" - Wing AU fic where Sticky and Kate get lost in the woods and Sticky loses his glasses.

"It’s Cold and You’re Standing There (You’re Trying To Face your Greatest Fear)" - Sticky fic. When he runs away and is trying to decide whether to go home again or attend Mr. Benedict's tests.

"Sharks" - Executives fic!! A story about how the Executive Trio navigate being around the Ten Men/Recruiters all the time.

[strawberista]

⚅— @lured-into-wonderland asked: —⚅ ⚅— 📖 —⚅

Journal Entry

— ★ ⚄ ★ —

Hanekoma reported meticulously on his day in his journal. What he ate, where he went, what he was feeling. Negative emotions collected on the page as if he were tucking them into a little bottle, never to be seen again. And then he started the next page on the evening, and of the strange young woman he had met.

I had the pleasure of meeting someone new, later in the evening. She is not human, but any attempt to pinpoint what exactly it is I'm sensing has been inconclusive. I have determined that she is not a threat, and I have begun to attempt to learn more about her. She thinks out loud, it would seem, because I have learned quite a bit without her ever meaning to. She speaks of her life in whispers under her breath, but I can hear her. I get the feeling that she is quite sheltered. She comes off as naïve and she doesn't seem to have as much information on the world as someone her age should. That could also be a matter of culture, however, as I'm not sure she's even from my world at all. Even so, she has a sweet disposition, and she carries herself like nobility. She is someone that I wish to protect, if I have any space at all to do so. Wherever she lives now, it would appear to me as if she doesn't have much if any control over her own life. I would like to teach her how to manage herself so that she might have the opportunity to grow. Perhaps she can share that growth with whatever world she is native to. In any case, it is admittedly a rather personal desire to watch her blossom. She just has so much potential in her. I hope I can do a good job. I hope she enjoys her time with me. Her name is Nunnally.

[randomcanbian]

What kind of Edeleth fanfic are you reading? I read a lot of fanfic ( albeit I filter what I read ) and Edeleth always put an emphasis on Byleth, the person beyond the vessel and mercenary. It's often one of the major point of the story.

Okay, in fairness my rants are in large part due to recency bias 😂 There are several (dozens of?) amazing, well-written Edeleth fic with Byleth fleshed out as a character who's usefulness isn't only relegated to physical battles but also to strategy and the morale of the Strike Force and the Imperial Army/Adrestian Faithful at large, whose personal relationships didn't revolve entirely around Edelgard!

That said, I've been reading Edeleth fics since the game came out, I've finished all the fics whose opening chapters I found good/interesting, so I've been trying to read everything else...honestly, it's no wonder there's a drop in quality. My gripe is just that there's so many fics among the recent ones I've read where I find Byleth's characterization unsatisfying, and I'm the type of person who gets annoyed when there are a lot of people who think about my fave in a certain way. Hence, the rants.

To describe what types of fics I've read, here are common enough tropes that I've found in multiple Edeleth fics that I find annoying:

Byleth's humanization coming from her loving Edelgard first-and-foremost--the insinuation that romantic love trumps platonic love rankles me. I wish there was more of an emphasis on how Byleth was humanized through her caring for all her students, and they caring for her in return. And--it's a matter of personal taste I guess--but I like to think Byleth returned Edelgard's romantic feelings only during the timeskip. Before that, she cared for all her students equally.

Byleth choosing to side with Edelgard because it's Edelgard, and not because of the ideals she's waging a war for. Hate that. I've read too many fics where Byleth doesn't really get why Edelgard wants the crest system eradicated / abolish nobles, but she's siding with her because it's her. I'd rather people draw from her background as a commoner--I know that Byleth's been in a daze for most of her early life, but if FEW3H has proven anything is that Byleth feels good when she helps people. Outside of the mercenary group, where she has the chance to interact with people she didn't have to kill, that she had to take care for--it should be enough for her to reflect on her own principles.

Post-Crimson Flower where Byleth isn't doing anything except waiting for her wife to come home and complaining about how much work she's doing and being emo about how they don't have enough time together. Even without the crest and Sothis' power she's a skilled fighter and a great tactician. She also has experience as a commoner / mercenary which Edelgard and the Twin Jewels (I love you Ferdibert) don't have. Surely she'd be better utilized and much busier than just being Edelgard's arm candy? (Honestly lmao I think most of my frustration stem from fics centered on this...like I know the writers wanted to write a fluff fic based on this trope and didn't want to overthink it, but it just bothers me. I'm a complainer.)

I hate dumb jock Byleth. Hate it. She may not know a lot about the world, but it's out of a lack of curiosity, as well as her father intentionally hiding things from her. I see her as someone more pragmatic, who only searches for knowledge if it's of use to her, but if it interests her she picks it up quickly. I remember seeing this more often in modern AUs, but I'm sure it's happened enough in fics set in canon for the hatred to have cemented in my mind.

I heavily dislike fics where Byleth barely interacts with the rest of the Black Eagles, or where it's obvious that she cares about them much less than she does Edelgard. I also dislike fics where the rest of the Black Eagles feel distant from Byleth, when in-game they were as worried about her as Edelgard was.

Special mention since I'm already complaining, but it's not really relevant because it's more a personal taste:

Byleth and Edelgard falling in love at first sight (I find love at first sight stupid in general, it's inorganic. I understand horny-at-first-sight, and obsession-at-first-sight, but the love-at-first-sight trope bothers me, and there are only certain ships where I'll let it slide. A recent fic that I read that I loved had Edeleth review an opera someone made of their love story, and both of them agreed that the initial part where they fell in love at first sight was stupid and wanted it rewritten, lmfao. It also makes less sense on Byleth's side due to her muted emotions. I'd buy that she'd feel connected to Edelgard because of her shared crest, but many fic writers don't go that angle, she just thinks Edelgard's hot, and that really annoys me (muted emotions reason))

[ofherlionheart]

👀

✨

I hope you're having a wonderful day! Remember to take care of yourself and drink lots of water 💖

👀 Tell me about an up and coming wip please!

chapter 4! of like the sun!! has an end in sight!!! currently i'm writing a scene that happens in the middle-ish of summer (shhh don't pay too much attention to dates in like the sun) — zuko sokka and aang are shooting headfirst into battle via appa. what battle? why are they going towards it? well. that's for you to find out :)

✨ Give you and your writing a compliment. Go on now. You know you deserve it.

dude i have come such a long way in dialogue. you know how there's this like, semi-sarcastic/joke-y banter style of dialogue that's endemic to fic? (nothing wrong with that — i think it's crucial to the genre. the same way that sitcoms wouldn't be sitcoms without that particular rhythm of sitcom dialogue) i think for a while i kept thinking i had to bring that into every scene, which led to unnecessary dialogue in some of my older pieces, and my editor brain does not like unnecessary bits in my stories.

anyway, i think i've gotten much better at being tight with my dialogue. and i think that's pretty cool of me :)

fanfic writer emoji ask game

[artekai]

akechi for the character thing. unless...? 😳

Kissing you my love!!!!!! ❤️❤️❤️

Unfortunately, Akechi lied to me and killed my crops and said mean things about my husband 😔

I'll be completely honest, I don't have strong feelings on him either way, BUT I care on account of him being my blorbo-in-law. Peace and love on planet Earth ❤️

As for his writing, I didn't like the way he was written in vanilla P5 :/ I do think getting a new confidant and the thirdsem and somehow getting even gayer was good for him :)

It's actually really weird looking back, because he's a cool character with a really appealing design and voice and situation, and I think if the circumstances around me playing P5 and joining the fandom had been different, I could've easily been a Goroboy too. Alas, it wasn't meant to be :')

[blorbosexterminator]

if alex pina makes a sequel to lcdp in the future, do you have any idea what they would steal? do you think all the surviving characters would be there? the new fic you writing would be a relatively likely scenario imo, well, not necessary with berlin surviving the mint but somehow connected to his death and also the part with spain moving away from gold and that they are in danger again.

Honestly, I have no idea. Obviously, I had to come up with something for the fic, which I don't want to spoil for you. But I think it's something that works best with a fic, I don't know whether it would fit with an actual sequel.

I do think all the surviving characters would be there, yes. Obviously, unless the actors themselves don't want to be and the characters have to be written with some excuse or the other. But maybe other than Rafael and Tatiana.

In my fic, it fits that they are there because the story still very much has Andrés in its core and also because everything is very closely tied to the Gold. But I do think if Alex Pina wants to do a sequel, which he might and why I think is partially the reason he didn't kill anyone after Tokyo, it will somehow has to answer the question of the gold. It does make sense to me, at least regarding the fic, that Spain will easily move on from the gold but not from what the banda did, which isn’t really a very secure position. If anything, they were more secure at the end of the mint heist than at the end of the gold heist. If you're technically and legally already dead, then what are the actual reprecussions to you getting killed? Especially by the people (very powerful people) who invented the identities you live under? If there is ever any continuation to La Casa de Papel, I think those would be interesting questions to cover.

[ciellery]

The Purge is all about lawlessness in a very narrow time period. Doing whatever you want. If you were in the Purge, and didn't have to worry about any real risk to your life, what would be the first thing you'd try to do?

I'd punch someone in the face. There are a few females that I'd target specifically because SATISFACTION IS A MUST. But yes, that's how far I would go XD

Also, I know that this is kinda boring but it's genuinely the only thing that I could do conscience-wise (my conscience would haunt me for A GOOD WHILE if it's something like thievery or anything lol). And arson? Yeah, the worst thing I could do with that (again, conscience-wise) is burn down something relatively small (definitely not a person though, nor a building). Hmmmm I feel like setting someone's entire wardrobe on fire. Yeah I'd like to do that. And give them a good slap too :3

Is it obvious that I'm still pissed about my glasses getting stolen? I wanna punch her and our counselor so bad I'm sorry (...sorry but not really, no)

Oh and cut their hair off. Give that a good pull too before I do. Maybe bash their head on a mattress lol. Hit them with tons of pillows.

Would I do this IRL given the chance? Yes ('Cept for the arson part). They should be lucky that I've got basic human decency, my dignity, and my honors. Gosh, especially the honors. If I don't have that, I'd be a free woman who's allowed to cause trouble without the fear of not receiving my awards.

Does this count as soft murder? Lmao

Also. I'd hit them with my bag. The ones I sent on the server, yes. The backpack in the middle, the Tumblr, and the file organizer. Add my book bag there too. I am also willing to sacrifice my powdered coffee (3-in-1) just so I can throw something in their eyes.

OH WAIT. MY FAVOURITE SEASONING. SALT AND CHILLI POWDER.

HER EYESIGHT'S BAD RIGHT?? HUN DON'T WORRY I GOT YOU. I CAN FREE YOU FROM THAT MISERY BY REPLACING IT BY SOMETHING ELSE.

PURGE WHERE YOU AT. LET ME DO THIS PLEASEEEEEE

Doesn't matter if the purge happens late at night or wayyy too early in the morning. I will find them.

[confetti-critter]

How do I get my coworkers to stop talking about their weight and losing weight and my weight and weight weight weight weight weight!

You lost weight when you were sick? Well whatever works HA. I cant wear that I'm too fat. You dont want to eat too much of that chocolate before your wedding or you wont fit into your dress! I need to lose 40 pounds before june. Well you're allowed to eat that you're so skinny! But just you wait when you get older. I'd wear this but it'll make my stomach look huge. I'm so fat ugh. BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH

UNSHACKLE YOURSELVES, MY CISHET COWORKERS

[atrwriting]

future problems — coriolanus snow x fem!wife!reader

hi everyone :) jumping on the bandwagon

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

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

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

anyways… here is future problems:

he never wanted to get married.

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

despised them.

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

and it would be you.

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

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

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

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

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

but then… oh, then…

then he saw your smile.

oh, your smile.

your fucking smile.

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

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

no one.

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

and it was… until he was sick.

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

however, he did not expect one problem.

and that would be you.

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

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

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

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

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

but he couldn’t finish the thought.

because you walked in.

smelling like fucking lilacs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

he scrunched his eyes at the door, swallowing hard.

however, he didn’t understand why.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

he had to know. he had to.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

why. why. why.

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

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

the act would drop. it always did.

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

and he fucking hated himself for it.

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

but you had kept reading for him.

he grew angry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

that would have to be righted immediately.

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

they always slip.

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

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

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

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

"good evening," you greeted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

so he went with what was natural: manipulation.

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

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

“what troubles you?” he asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“please,” he answered and nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

for research purposes, of course. only research purposes,

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

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

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

how had he not expected this?

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

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

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

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

good and honest. how fucking unfortunate.

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

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

he hated himself for the lilacs.

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

however, it didn’t.

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

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

he knew what he had to do.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“which one are you?” coriolanus inquired.

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

now was the time.

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

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

damn, he thought. didnt bite.

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

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

he nodded.

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

“i don’t understand.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

oh.

you invited him in to… to…

that he had not expected.

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

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

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

what was he to do?

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

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

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

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

he reasoned a reward was in order.

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

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

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

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

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

he shut the door behind him, keeping your gaze.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

he jumped then. “teeth,” he spat.

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

a low hum filled his chest.

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

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

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

you had to do something.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you nodded, looking into his eyes through the mirror.

he cocked an eyebrow.

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

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

oh… you were done for.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you grasped onto him and threw yourself back.

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

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

his breaths were heavy, similar to yours.

“corio…” you whimpered, almost whining.

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

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

“what’re you sorry for?” he demanded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“i promise,” you returned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

he chuckled darkly. "watch it, sweetheart."

---

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

-L xooxoxooxox