#doctors couldn’t do anything for me back then either

[jamdoughnutmagician]

Secrets Out (fluff)

Mechanic!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Set in the A Cut Above The Rest universe, and kind of follows on from the little fic I wrote a few weeks back. I just love these two and I really like writing little snippits of their life after the fic? idk?

Word Count:1, 772

Masterlist // Eddie Munson Masterlist

“I can’t believe that that’s our baby.” Eddie said, as he looked at the small black and white photograph that you were holding in your hands. “Like that’s inside you right now.”

You were sitting comfortably beside Eddie in his van after coming back from your very first scan. After finding out you were pregnant, the both of you couldn’t have been more thrilled, and the trip to the hospital had been filled with a mixture of excitement and nerves.

You watched as his big brown eyes shined with bubbling tears threatening to spill over his lashes as looked down on the photo with a soft smile.

“Aw, Teddie, you're getting emotional about this, huh?” You said softly as you rubbed a hand up and down his arm.

“It's not that. It's just… I don't even know what I meant to be looking at.” he chuckled slightly, wiping away his tears. “Like I know it's a baby, but it just looks like a gray blob!” 

“Oh, Teddie! It's okay! It won't look like much right now, our baby is still really small.” You reassured him. “The doctor said everything looks perfectly healthy! That's a good thing! Our little baby's going to have those strong Munson genes.”

“They're going to end up with my big ‘ol schnozz aren't they?”

Leaning in, you press a kiss against his cheek.

“So who do you want to tell first?” you asked Eddie as he plopped down next to you on the sofa, his hair still slightly wet after his shower and vaguely smelling of your coconut shampoo.

“I'm counting on it.”

You and Eddie had discussed it beforehand, and now you were at a safe point in your pregnancy where you felt comfortable telling people the exciting news.

“I was thinking that I wanna tell Wayne first. It’s his birthday next week and I wanna surprise him with the news!”

“I love that idea! You know he’s going to be so excited to hear he’s going to be a pop-pop. He'd always joked to me about wanting grand-kids.”

“And have you had any thoughts about who you’d want as godparents?” You and Eddie had also discussed the idea of having your child have godparents. God forbid that anything happen to either you or Eddie, but you wanted someone who would be able to look after your little one if anything were to happen.

“Well, I know who I want it to be.” Eddie replied confidently. 

“..And I know who I want it to be too. Do you wanna say it on the count of three?”

One. Two. Three.

“Robin and Steve.” you both said simultaneously. 

“Well, that’s that solved.” he chuckled to himself.

You and Eddie arrive at Wayne’s place nice and early, with his favourite dinner that you’d promised you’d make for him tucked under your arm in a glass dish, a lasagna made for sharing, and Eddie carrying a bottle of wine for him and his uncle to share. 

You and Eddie had spent time in Wayne's place enough for it to feel like a second home, but now with this big secret you were harbouring, suddenly the air felt different as you stepped over the threshold of the house. 

And with the dinner eaten and cleared away, and wine glasses emptied (and thankfully your refusal of said wine went without so much as an graying eyebrow raise from Wayne)

“Thanks for making dinner, darlin’” Wayne thanks in his gruff southern drawl. “But you kids didn't have to come down to spend your day with an old man like me.”

“Of course we did! We couldn't let your birthday go un-celebrated, uncle.”

Eddie says.

“Boy, when you get to be as old as I am, birthday's ain't much to be celebrating besides waking up another day and not being dead.”

“Oh, so you don't want the presents we got for you then?” You ask with a teasing tone in your voice. 

“Now, I didn't say that..” Wayne grumbles despite the slight smile curving at his lips.

You reach for the small gift bag that you had brought along with you, placing it on the table in front of Wayne.

“Just a little surprise for you, Uncle.” Eddie says. “It’s from both of us, we hope you like it.”

You and Eddie watch Wayne open up his present with bated breath. Waiting for the big secret to come out. The ruffles of tissue paper are pulled from the bag as Wayne pulls out his present. A new, very special mug to add to his ever growing collection.

“World’s best grandpa? Boy, I know I’m old, but I ain’t that old yet.” he jokes, looking over to Eddie.

“Actually, Wayne, I think you better look inside that card too.” Eddie prompts, nodding his head towards the bag where the envelope is.

Wayne reaches for the envelope that is tucked away in the bag before opening it up to see the front of the card.

A standard ‘Happy birthday Grandpa!’ card, with a birthday cake and candles on the front.

You and Eddie exchanged a quick glance and shy smiles, realising that Wayne still hadn't quite got the message you were putting across. However, it all came together as he opened his card.

‘Happy Birthday Grandpa Wayne, I can't wait to meet you!’ Written above a picture of your ultrasound that you had taped inside the card. 

“Wait..You’re…Is this real right now? You’re not yankin’ on my chain right now?” Wayne asks as he begins to show the slightest bubble of tears in his usually stern, steely grey-blue eyes.

 “No, it’s not a joke, Wayne! I promise!” Eddie assured him.

“Yeah, we found out a few months ago, and we wanted you to be the first one to know.” you said softly, tears of your own now coming up to gather in your lashes.

“I’m so touched that I got to be the first one to hear about this.” Wayne says, his voice shaky with emotion as he gets up from the table to pull you in for a hug. “I’m so happy for you guys, I really am.”

Eddie sits back, watching the two people he loves the most in this world sharing in this very tender and soft moment.

“How long was it before this one started freaking out, huh?” Wayne teases, raising his eyebrows towards his nephew.

“Hey, I’ll have you know I didn’t “freak out”, I was actually very excited.” Eddie defends himself.

“No, it’s true. I think I did enough freaking out for the both of us.” you laugh. “I count myself very lucky to have someone like Eddie to hold my hand through this.” 

You had invited Robin and Steve over to yours and Eddie’s place under the guise of having a chill movie night, but actually you just wanted them both to be together when you told them the news.

“I hope it’s not some sappy, romantic, chick-flick you’ve chosen.” Steve grumbles as he steals a handful of popcorn from the bowl Robin was holding.

“Don’t pretend you don’t secretly enjoy them too, dingus. I caught you crying when you were watching When Harry Met Sally the other week.” Robin calls him out.

“Meg Ryan’s acting got to me, alright!” Steve defends.

“Actually, before we start the film,” you interjected between the pair’s lovable bickering. “Eddie and I have something we wanted to share.” you say.

“Well, we wanted to share some news, and ask you both quite a big question.” 

“You’re pregnant aren’t you?” Robin blurted out.

“Oh my god Robin you can’t just ask that!” Steve chided her with a gentle slap on her arm, but the silence that fell in the room suddenly felt like the loudest thing in the world. “Wait..Are you?”

You manage to huff out a gleeful ‘Yes!’ in between giggles as both Steve and Robin rush up to hug you.

“Congratulations to both of you, that’s so amazing!” Steve smiles broadly.

“I knew there was something up when you passed on doing shots with me after work last week. Oh my gosh, that's fantastic news!!” Robin cheered, her freckled cheeks beaming brightly. “How long have you known?”

“Only a few weeks, it was certainly quite the surprise let me tell you!” you smile as the both release you from the tight hug they had you in.

“And that brings us on to the other important question of the evening..” Eddie said as he laid a gentle and reassuring touch on your shoulders. “We were looking for two godparents, we wondered if you knew any good ones?”

“I think what Eddie means is, would you and Steve consider being godparents to our baby?”

“Is that even possible? You know we're not, like, a couple or anything. Isn’t it too early to do this sort of thing? You only found out a couple of weeks ago, you said so yourself!” Robin babbles

But before Robin can babble anymore Steve speaks over her with tears brimming in his honeyed hazel eyes.

“Don’t listen to her, she doesn’t know what she’s talking about. We’d be honoured to.” Steve manages to get out as he wipes away the tears gathering in his lashes.

“Well that went better than I could have imagined.” Eddie said with a smile. “Didn’t bet on you crying so much though, Harrington.”

“Crying? Who’s crying? Not me, this is just..uh..allergies…shut up..” Steve sniffles.

“Well it’s nice to know that our baby’s godfather is already so emotionally invested in them.” you laugh softly.

Resting a gentle hand on the almost unnoticeable curve of your belly, you can’t help the warmth that floods your heart. Even though your baby hadn’t been born yet, you knew that they were already going to be so loved by everyone around them.

As Eddie strolled into work the following morning, he’s greeted by Randy who was turning the garage’s oil-stained radio down as he came in.

“Your old man told me your girl’s got a bun in the oven,”

“News travels fast around these parts, huh.” Eddie nods, reaching for his toolbox sitting on his work bench. 

Laying a clap to Eddie’s shoulder, Randy fixes him with a stare, his forehead wrinkling as he  raises his dark eyebrows.

“Good fuckin’ luck Munson, you’re gonna need it.”

@penguinsandpotterheads @aphrogeneias @mrsjellymunson

@eddiesxangel @ali-r3n @seatnights

@munsonsbtch @keeksandgigz

[ovaruling]

having chronic hypoglycemia this past week for the first time in about 4 years and i want to kms i hate this so much it’s like living in petrified fear all day long every day unable to do a single task bc even the slightest exertion tanks my blood sugar and then i have to be drinking apple juice and eating constantly and i feel ill from it like i cannot stand all this pure sugar it’s so gross it’s rotting my stomach and i have no energy i hate everything so much. my life has become nothing but waiting for the next blood sugar drop and i thought i was done w this years ago like wtf do you want, body!!!!! i give you so much food every day you are NOT in danger wtf!!!! please just stop this i’m so stressed i just want to cry but i CANT cuz it’ll prob tank my glucose lmfao!!!!!

[dolldefiler]

[I keep hearing about how male gynaecologists are more compassionate than female ones… Also I spent half an hour looking up what a speculum exam consists of + what gynaecologists do exactly. Pretty educational actually. Also accidentally a long one, apologiessss.]

C/W: Rape, ob/gyn trauma

“Harder,” she says, her face cold and stiff. “You can’t learn anything if you’re touching her like a piece of art. She’s a woman, she can take it.”

He looks up at her nervously, and then at you apologetically. You feel his fingers, wrapped in cold latex push apart your folds. He can see everything. They all can. Every fold, every drop of cunt drool. She can also see you.

She mutters something under her breath and you blush, out of shame and anger.

‘Disgusting…’

Before you can bring it up, you grunt in pain as his fingers graze against your insides. You feel your eyes water. “Can we please st—”

“God, this is why I hate rookies. You can’t examine shit, if you’re so gentle.”

She grabs his hand and pushes forward. You’re in a world of pain but the braces hold your legs apart. Sharp, unimaginable pain courses through you as you hear her chuckle. You feel your limbs go weak.

“We should stop. We’re going too far here. I don’t care how many years of experience you have, these exams shouldn’t be this hard on her.”

You hear his voice bellow out angrily as you squeeze your eyes shut. A long moment passes. The rustle of medical gowns follows.

“What the fu—”

“Now, now, let’s not get too nervous. This is the first time you’re shadowing a real gynaecologist, isn’t that right, baby?”

“Why the fuck are your—”

“You’ve seen a pair of tits before, honey. Now answer the fucking question.”

With that, your eyes snap open. You can’t see much, perhaps only the top of her hair… between his legs. His hands are up in the air, but his eyes clearly can’t decide to look at her face or… something lower. To the side, you see her robes discarded and forgotten.

“Y-y-yeah, this is my first—”

“Mhmm, that’s what I thought, baby. It’s okay. I’ll look after you. I’ll look after you so well.”

You want to scream but his fingers twitch inside you, causing you to grunt in pain again. They both ignore you.

“S-shit, that’s… We’re not allowed to do this, right? Fuckkk.”

“You need to understand that what I say goes in this room. If I wanted, I could have you out of medical school by tomorrow.”

“Y-yes ma’am. But this can’t be right. I… she’s in so much pain. You’re giving me a fucking blowjob, for god’s sake!”

Finally, you manage to get a word in. “STOP THIS. STOP IT. WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON RIGHT NOW?!” You yell, breaking into a teary, incoherent mess at the end of your outburst.

Quick as a flash, she stands up, walks over and slaps you sharply.

“Shut the fuck up. The doctors are talking, you stupid little cunt. You’re distracting us. Now where were we, darling?”

“I—You… that’s definitely not allowed.”

“What, and are you going to stop me?”

“... Yes?”

She slaps you again and you yelp pain. You hadn’t even said anything!

“Now you can either walk out and tattle on me… Or you can do anything you want to my tight fucking body. I know you want to. Your eyes have been looking at me this whole time, not her.”

Your face stings but the sharp, stinging pain of betrayal hurts more. He was so… sweet. He seemed to understand her. Couldn’t he just stand up for her? You look at him and even now his eyes are transfixed on her perfect, gorgeous tits. She might be an evil, twisted bitch, but god she has the best tits you’ve seen on anyone.

She steps closer to him and for the first time this appointment, he stands up. But not to walk out. With a pair of fingers still buried inside you, he reaches for her tits. You push your weakened body up but one twist of his fingers and you’re back down. Their lips are locked and they ignore you completely. Her perfect ass folds and jiggles as she reaches for his cock, stroking it.

“Let me taste her. Let me taste that pathetic fucking cunt.”

Your cunt gapes slightly as he pushes his fingers between her lips.

“God… she tastes disgusting. I think it’s time we gave her a proper exam.”

Fuck… fuck… holy fuck, this is so wrong,“ he says as you feel his throbbing, aching cock push inside you. Despite his protests, he doesn’t resist burying his shaft inside you at all.

You scream. For a second. Then you feel her hand clamp down around your neck as she urges him to pump faster inside you.

“Our people have a lot of power, you know. All these innocent little sluts walking into your offices and spreading their legs. They’re just begging to be abused. Great power comes with a great opportunity to cum.”

“Fuck… you’re right. If she didn’t want this, she wouldn’t have spread her legs for me. If she wasn’t a fucking slut, she’d have a pristine pussy that didn’t need checking.”

That wasn’t how it worked and they knew it. He knew it. He just didn’t care. In his twisted mind, you were just another set of holes to fuck. Another willing fleshlight that had walked in to be abused. You wanted to scream, to let out your pain but you couldn’t.

“You don’t even remember her name, do you? Good. She’s just the first of many. She’s just a cocksleeve. Remember that. She was fucking built to take pain and abuse like nothing else.”

“She’s… a cocksleeve that was—oh fuckk—that was built to take abuse. She’s nothing. She’s nothing. She’s just a—oh SHIT—she’s just a cum dumpster for me.”

“Do you feel bad about her tears? You don’t, you twisted perv, do you? Rub her clit a little. Show her how badly she needs this. I can hear how wet she is already, that disgusting fucking perv.”

You feel his fingers brush softly against your clit, not so gentle that she felt nothing but not so hard that it hurt. Just right. Despite your best efforts, you moan slightly, the only sound passing through your throat. Your body’s betrayed you. And she’s realised it. She laughs, almost maniacally. “The dumb cunt actually likes it! She likes her little exam.”

That wasn’t true! That’s not true. IT’S NOT TRU—

You feel your head spin as he touches you again, the lack of air driving your head to new places. She’s standing next to you, rubbing herself to the sight of the young man jackhammering your cunt, like you’re a cheap, disposable sex doll. Maybe that’s all you are to them.

“God, do it. I can see you holding back. Don’t hold back, baby. Cum in the nasty cunt. God, it’d be hilarious if you knocked her up. Just cum as hard as you need to inside her. She’s just a warm—”

“Shut the fuck up, you whore. I’m cumming inside her. God, she’s so fucking tight. You twisted bitch, you did this to me. You’ve made me do this. Does it feel good destroying stupid sluts like her and corrupting innocent students like me?”

You feel thick ropes of cum blow from him, flooding your abused pussy. You lose your mind. This must be a nightmare. A dream that isn’t real.

“I LOVE IT. DO IT. KNOCK HER UP!”

He presses against you, the examination bed creaking under the weight of two people. In her excitement she squeezes too hard. You begin to fade in and out of consciousness. Darkness envelops you as she cums, squirt hitting your face.

The last thing you hear before you fade away is, “Don’t worry about her. She’ll wake up soon enough. I’m so proud of you for doing so well on your first exam, sweetie!”

[moonstruckme]

Omg i love your Dr. Remus fics so much, i’m literally obsessed! I had this idea but idk if it makes sense…

Is there any way that you can write one where the reader is getting treated at the hospital and the IV that remus places causes a burst vein or has a bad reaction to some medication. Neither are Rem’s fault- how could he have known you were allergic to that medication?

Cue angst as remus stays by your side and comforts you, while you reassure him that you’re alright and there’s love and comfort all around.

thanks for checking this out bestie ❤️

Thank you for requesting my love

cw: hospital, mention of IV and anaphylaxis

doctor!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 465 words

Remus is emanating guilt. His thumb moves over the top of your hand, just short of your IV like he can protect you from it belatedly. You love him so much it hurts. 

“I’m feeling a lot better,” you say. Your voice sounds far less hoarse than it had. 

He gives you a smile that doesn’t meet his eyes. “Yeah? That’s great.” 

“Do you think I might be able to go home today?” 

Remus’ expression creases, guilt burrowing further into the indent between his brows. “I don’t know, sweetheart. I’d like to think so, but we still have to kick the infection and we may want to observe you overnight.” He kisses your knuckles apologetically. “You know I’ll stay with you either way.” 

You give him your own miniature smile. “Thanks.” 

He echoes it back, and you both fall quiet. 

“You couldn’t have known I was allergic to that stuff,” you say gently. 

Remus’ lips press together in a line. “I know.” 

“I mean, even I had no idea. It wasn’t on any records or anything.” 

“I know, dove. Thanks.” 

Another silence lapses. You watch your boyfriend, who looks down at the sheets of your hospital bed. You squeeze his fingers. 

“What are you thinking about?” 

Remus puffs out a sigh. Gives you a sad smile. “I guess I’m thinking that I’m rather selfish.” 

It pangs like an insult against you, right in the center of your chest. “What?” 

“I see people go into anaphylaxis all the time,” he says, thumb still running over your knuckles absentmindedly, “but it’s never been as scary for me as when it happened to you just now. I almost forgot what to do.” 

“You didn’t, though,” you reassure him, leaning forward to ask for a kiss. Remus obliges you, and his lips are warm and sweet against yours. “You fixed it. You always do.” 

He dots a kiss onto the bridge of your nose. “I never like seeing you in pain,” he admits, “and seeing how scared you were, too…it was hard.” 

Your gut twists. “I’m sorry,” you say. 

Remus tsks. “What’re you sorry for, sweetheart? You were the one having an allergic reaction that I gave you.” 

“Yeah, by using medicine to try and save me from an infection my stupid body gave itself.” 

“Well,” he says, tone warming with amusement, “that’s hardly fair.” 

“Yeah, doesn’t seem fair to either of us. Truce?” 

Your boyfriend rolls his eyes, lovesick even when he’s pretending not to be. “Truce,” he agrees. He gives your fingers a fond squeeze. 

“Good.” You smile at him. “I think our first act of allyship should be busting me out of here before anyone tries to make me stay the night. What do you think?” 

Remus huffs a laugh. “I’ll see what I can do.” 

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

a new life is born | s.r. x fem!reader

“congratulations mom and dad, it’s a healthy baby girl.” the doctor confirmed for both of you while the nurses worked to clean your new born. your skin was sweaty, baby hairs stuck to your forehead, legs were shaky from being bent for the past hour. you’ve been in the hospital since last night once your contractions started.

but you were a mom now. you birthed a babygirl and you couldn’t be happier with your life. turning your head to the left with a dazed smile, stood spencer with the widest smile you’ve seen on his face to date. “a girl. we have a little girl,” chuckling from glee.

“we have a girl,” he repeated as he leaned forward to kiss your forehead and tuck some of your hair away. “i want her to be just like you,” very confident in the chances of that happening.

spencer shook his head, “for your sake i hope not and for my heart i hope she looks like you.” a gentle finger tracing over your nose, the shape of your lips. “well i only hope she doesn’t get your puppy eyes, it’ll be her one power over both of us.” staring directly into said eyes right now.

“alright, she’s ready for you.” a nurse walked to your right side with your baby, now wearing a pink bow. “would you like to do skin to skin? helps her recognize you through touch. also good for the dad as well.” waiting for either to reply first.

“i’ll go first.” shimming your hospital gown away from your shoulder and chest so there was enough surface area, “i have a feeling i’m gonna fall asleep soon, but i’m gonna hold her until i can keep my eyes open.” holding your hands out to take her then second guessing and getting them in the cradle position but still not sure, “uh, which is better?” asking the nurse who hovered.

“i’d say hands so you can lay her to your chest. cradling is better for later.” nodded and slowly took your baby from the nurse and maneuvered her tiny self so her head was resting on your shoulder. “oh wow,” whispering to yourself. it completely sunk in now, she’s yours.

“i’m a freaking mom,” whispering over her back towards spencer. a slow palm rubbed along her back and quickly her breathing synced with yours, her tiny fists were too cute.

there was a little space on your bed and you called for spencer to join you. he sank down slowly and threw a long arms over your shoulder, his free hand caressing your forearm. “what should we name her? we can’t call her fruits anymore.” whispering beside your ear.

your mouth twisted, “i kinda want to name her after something from literature. like juliet or charlotte. do you have any ideas?” turning his way.

his eyes were focused on the sleeping babe, a little smile quirking a corner of his lips. “maybe annabeth. the combination of anna and elizabeth forms the meaning of god has favored me. and i think that works for us as well, we’ve been favored by having her. also anna can mean beautiful and it’s all because of you.” kissing your temple, his kisses have been never ending the past nine months.

“annabeth… annabeth diana reid. our beautiful gift.” pressing her first kiss of many to her head. “i think it’s your turn now. my eyes are getting heavy.”

spencer nervously started to unbutton his shirt and then slowly you traded off. you watched as spencer stood back up and kept a gently motion to his body wanting her to continue napping. he kept his voice low as he recited facts about anything, knowing she’s gonna love the sound of his voice growing up.

“can you tell us a story?” something you’ll ask spencer from time to time when you needed just a little push into dreamland. “of course, sweetheart. i’ll do my favorite book from childhood, alice in wonderland. once upon a time there was a girl named alice…”

[delilahsturniolo]

baby daddy!chris and pregnant!reader, reader is in labor and the birth doesn't go as expected, but in the end you meet your son

white ferrari - c.s

in which: Y/n goes into labor, ready to bring her and Chris’s son into the world. But, the birth process doesn’t go as planned.

this story contains: baby daddy!chris, crying, comforting, not being able to breathe, sorta angst, fluff at end.

written by: @delilahsturniolo

____________________________________________

“i care for you still and i will, forever.”

____________________________________________

Chris held my hand and rubbed my shoulder supportively as I breathed heavily. I went into labor not too long ago, and now I was giving birth to our son.

“You’re doing so good baby, keep going.” Chris reassured me, his own eyes getting teary as he watched me and the nurse who was guiding me through everything.

I shut my eyes, and before I knew it, it was over. Chris looked over at the nurse holding our baby.

I opened my glossy eyes, smiling as the nurse cradled our newborn baby. I caught my breath, looking over to Chris.

“That’s our baby.” I whispered. Chris nodded, holding my hand.

“You did it.” Chris smiled.

Suddenly, I heard something I never thought I would hear.

“The baby isn’t breathing.” The nurse said, before I could say anything, machines began to beep and doctor’s began rushing in.

“Wha-What’s happening..?” I panicked, sitting up in the hospital bed. My heart sank as I watched the doctors place tubes into the baby.

“Yo! What’s going on?” Chris called out, trying to follow the doctors. A nurse stepped in front of him.

“He’s having some trouble breathing, we’re doing everything we can.” The nurse explained.

I breathed in and out rapidly, my heart racing as I tried getting up out of the bed. A doctor grabbed my arm, holding me still.

“Miss, you need to stay calm.” The doctor told me.

“Calm!? How am I supposed to stay calm?” I practically shouted.

Tears streamed down my face quickly, blurring my vision. I faintly saw doctors pushing Chris back. There was nothing we could do.

Chris came over and covered my eyes so I didn’t have to watch them try and save the baby, he hugged me tightly. “He’s gonna be okay.” He whispered sweet reassurances into my ear.

A few moments later, things calmed down. Our baby was able to breathe again. I opened my eyes.

He was hooked up to tubes to help him breathe. It broke my heart.

A doctor came up to me and Chris.

“Hi, I’m Doctor Smith. I wanted to let you know that your baby is well and breathing, his airways were blocked and he wasn’t getting enough oxygen. He’s okay now, he’s hooked up to a tube that will help him breathe. Are you guys okay?” The doctor informed us.

Chris nodded, not letting go of my hand.

“We’re okay, sir. Do you know why he couldn’t breathe?” Chris asked. I couldn’t keep my eyes off of our son, who laid down peacefully with a tube on his nose.

“There’s a lot of reasons, it could be because the mother’s blood pressure was either too high or low. Or he was just born with breathing problems.” The doctor explained to us. I nodded my head.

“Can I hold him?” I whispered, wiping my stray tears. The doctor nodded, one of the nurses gently picked him up, keeping the tube in his nose and handed him to me gently.

I held my son in my arms, looking down at him lovingly. Chris put a hand on my shoulder, holding our baby’s hand.

“Hey little guy..we’re glad you’re okay.” Chris spoke softly to our son, I immediately felt relief flow through me.

“He’s so precious.” I whispered, gently caressing his cheek.

“He definitely looks more like me.” Chris insisted, I chuckled.

“I’m so proud of us.” I said, Chris gently cupped my face, tears of happiness streaming down his face.

“I’m proud of you. You’re so strong, you just pushed a whole human being out of you. That’s not easy. You’re going to be a great mother.” Chris smiled sweetly as he looked into my eyes.

I gave him a kiss on the lips, watching as our son laid peacefully on my chest.

Despite all the obstacles we went through, it was all worth it in the end. We were officially parents, and I knew our son was going to grow up to be an amazing person.

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AUTHORS NOTE 💌

this is def not my best writing..i’m sorry that this is so short and rushed!!

taglist:

@babyalliah-777 @stopdropandroll1 @h3arts4harry @sturniolossluttybitch @sturniooolos @gwennybenny @jetaimevous @vtaraa @doctorreid187 @ivysturnss @strvnolin @sturnzsun @sassysturniolo2008 @blahbel668 @jamiesturniolo @sabsturned @wiidfi0wer33 @bitchydragonparadisee @ofc1ofc @z03ey @pixie-sticks-are-good @elsxz1 @rafecameronsbitch @mariasturniolo @miss-tyummy @emmavzlsblog @mattlovesfall @slutforsturnioloss @itsfloriii @stvrnmc @sturnsxplr-25 @sturnobsessedwh0re @kierra-holland @itzzmfjade @ilovecats0402 @lizzymacdonald06 @0kt0 @sturnstvr @sturnn372 @emely9274 @nicksloverrr @ariologyy @memea32221 @lushjunkie @mylove4lana @alyrasturnz @diasturnsth

[the-californicationist]

he washes your hair

Injured in the line of duty, you can't even manage to wash your own hair. Captain John Price decides to help you out.

MDNI/18+

TW: hurt/comfort, injury

https://archiveofourown.org/works/50663425

The medics did the best they could to patch you up, but the damage was extensive. The terrorist’s pipe bomb had exploded against your back, slamming shrapnel into your arms and shoulders, tearing your flesh and breaking your left collarbone. The doctor had tried to put your arm in a sling, but you couldn’t raise either arm above the midpoint. As you dragged your body back to your quarters, you did your best to get undressed, but you were now stuck, sitting on the floor, crying a bit from the pain and frustration of your injuries. 

There was no one to help you. You were stuck out here with the task force, but Soap and Ghost were still deep in enemy territory on recon. Gaz had gone with Laswell to find the weapons shipment that she’d promised you, and the only one left in the makeshift house-turned-base was Captain Price. 

You told yourself you’d do the same thing for him if the tables were turned, but it didn’t lessen the shame at all. You called his cell, 

“Cap?”

“Sparrow? What’s wrong?”

You never called him like this. Not at this hour. But, knowing you were injured, he picked right up. His voice was full of concern. You could picture his blue eyes shining with his worry. 

“Nothing…” you paused, “Well, I…”

“Gonna die of old age before you tell me, soldier.”

You smiled, biting the bullet,

“Cap, I need your help. I’m stuck in here. Can’t move my arms.”

“On my way,” he hung up. 

You waited, listening for his heavy footsteps. Eventually, you heard him in the hall. He knocked on your door.

“Come in,” you said, turning your eyes to the floor, unable to meet his gaze, full of shame. 

You were sitting there, in nothing but the shirt stuck around your arm and a pair of panties. You’d been successful with the rest of your outfit, proud of yourself for using a coat hanger to take off your bra from the back clip, but now you were trapped, unable to move even a little without being in excruciating pain.

“Poor little bird. Broke your wing, hm?” Price smiled down at you, his tone so different than his usual sarcasm.

“I must look pretty pitiful for you to be so sweet about it,” you rolled your eyes, “Go on, have a laugh. I’m a muppet who trapped herself in her own shirt.”

He didn’t say anything. Price walked over to you carefully, bending down so he could reach you, his hulking body darkening your vision, casting his huge shadow over you, almost protectively. He snaked his hand under the collar of your shirt and guided it up and over your head, careful not to disturb your bandages. 

Shirtless, now, and in just your underwear, you moved to cover your breasts, wincing as you made the attempt, your shoulder angry at the bent angle. 

“It’s alright, birdie. Let’s get you up,” he set your arm back into its neutral position and guided you to your feet. 

“I’m so sorry you had to come,” you whispered, shameful to the point of pain. 

Price guided you to the bathroom, his strength making you feel weightless. You were dizzy from it. His warm body felt like a salve on your wounds. 

He didn’t ask for permission when he stripped off your panties, kneeling to pull them off of your legs, letting you step gingerly out of them, one by one. You steadied yourself on his huge shoulders, the agony too high for you to complain any longer. Your breath caught in your chest when a sharp spike of hot pain shot through your chest. 

“Ah! Christ,” you gritted your teeth. 

Blue eyes looked up at you from below, looking like a man in prayer, looking up for his gods, for a sign. 

“Alright, Spar? Here, sit. Sit down,” he guided you to the side of the shower-tub combo, placing you between the open plexiglass doors. 

“Captain, I…” you tried to make your excuses again. 

“Shh,” he wiped some of your dried blood off of your cheek, and furrowed his brow at you, “No more of that. That’s an order, Corporal.” 

“Yes, sir,” you grimaced, trying to turn on the water. 

“Stop, birdie. Let me help you.” 

You were too tired to fight him. He turned on the water for you, and he started to remove your bandages. Your wounds needed to be cleaned and the bandages replaced. You weren’t sure how the medics expected you to do that by yourself. You thought the captain might be willing to stay, so you tried to be good, tried not to be a burden to him. 

“You know,” he commented as he waited for the water to warm up, reaching for clean towels, “Laswell called. She said you saved those two girls, the ones in the upstairs room.”

There had been a mess of civilians on this last mission, and you had blocked the bomb with your body, trying to shield them from the blast. 

“They made it through?” You wanted to be sure.

He nodded, smiling,

“Sure did, little bird. You did good. Made us proud,” then, he corrected himself, staring at you with fiery intent, “Me. Made me proud.” 

You smiled back, 

“Thanks, Captain.”

“C’mon, let’s get you clean,” he took off his shirt and you gaped in awe. 

His body was huge in the small bathroom, enormous shoulders bulging off of his heavy frame, and his core was thick but the top of his abs were sticking out, suggesting a well-fed but strong man. He was covered in dense hair, laying straight and flat against his skin, unshaven and untrimmed. No one to trim it for, you supposed.

“What are you doing?” You asked, shocked by his undressing.

Price unbuckled his belt, the metal clinking as it dangled, and started to take off his pants, using his toes to pry off his boots from the heel,

“Can’t wash yourself, and I can’t reach you from out here. Gonna jump in and help you,” he paused, looking at you carefully, “That alright, birdie?”

Your nickname was your favorite thing you’d ever gotten from him. When he used it, in his thick accent, it made your heart race. 

You nodded, resigning yourself to be as professional as you could, averting your eyes.

He chuckled, rich and deep,

“Might as well have a butcher’s now, love. Gonna be up close and personal.”

You looked at him then, accepting his challenge. But, as your eyes raked over his nude form, you saw his skin flush pink, a little more self-conscious than he let on. 

“I know, I know. Old dog like me, I’m nothing to look at. I promise, I’ll just wash you and get back out. Sorry about all the…” he made a general motion toward his cock, which was hanging heavy and half-hard at the sight of you, “Can’t help that you’re a pretty bird.” 

“John, you’re plenty to look at,” you grinned, blushing right along with him. 

For once in his life, John Price didn’t have a snappy response. He just checked the water again and helped you stand up, guiding you into the shower and repositioning the head so that it wouldn’t hit you directly. 

You let yourself soak under the stream, eyes closed, hearing him shut the door behind himself. You felt him steady you with a hand on your hip as he used a gentle washcloth to clean blood off of your skin, careful not to touch your wounds. 

“Turn ‘round, love,” his voice was so low, you almost couldn’t hear him. 

You turned toward him, watching him stand before you, breathing heavier, trying his best not to stare at your chest. It was easy at first. As he cleaned your face, his touch soft and platonic, he stole a few glances down. But, as he began to take care of your collarbone and chest, he lost his nerve a bit. At one point, he stopped mid-swipe, trying to clean blood from you and then watching as a long, thin rivulet ran directly over your nipple. 

You smiled, and he saw you, chuckling again.

“Got me. Sorry.”

“It’s okay, Captain. Just a natural response.” 

He pulled back his lips from his teeth and ran a wet hand down his face, looking exasperated,

“Do you want…I mean, do you mind if I…” he let out a labored sigh, shaking his head. 

“You can, John. I…” you waited until he could look you in the face again, “I want you to touch me, if you want to.”

“Bloody hell,” he muttered, not really to you, “Look, I don’t want you to feel - ”

You leaned forward, a bit unsteady, and kissed the skin on his sternum, feeling the hairs on your lips, his wet skin sticking to you as you pulled away. 

“Little bird,” he was warning you. You could hear it in his tone. 

“Kiss me, John. Please?”

“I can’t. I can’t because I won’t stop. I don’t have an abundance of self-control. Not after a mission. Can’t be trusted.”

“I trust you,” you looked up at him, praying back to him, hoping he wanted you like you had wanted him over these last six months. 

Price leaned down, holding you steady, and kissed you very chastely. You kissed him back, not chastely at all. He moaned, pulling away,

“Don’t, Spar. I can’t…You’re injured.”

“Yeah, injured. Not dead.”

He smirked, unable to keep the grin off his face. His cock was as hard as a stone, and it was long enough to rub against your belly as you stood together in the small space. 

“Let me wash your hair. I’ll think about it, birdie…you little minx,” his last comment was said under his breath, full of hungry desperation. 

He turned you around again, and he reached for the shampoo, pouring out a quarter-sized amount into his calloused palm. Rubbing it together in his hands, he ran it through your scalp, massaging it until it foamed, making sure to take care of the ends. Then, he held you while you stood under the spray, letting the warm water soak your tresses, running the suds down the drain. 

As he prepared to wash your body, Price took a deep breath. He stayed away from your wounds, but as he started to wash your trunk, he hesitated to soap your breasts. 

“John, it’s okay.” 

He smiled at you, 

“Just enjoying you, little bird. Might not get another chance.” 

“I’ll make sure you get plenty of chances.” 

He was on you then, gently caressing your breasts and nipples with the soap, rubbing his body on yours, washing himself as he cleaned you. He ran his hands over your ass cheeks, down your legs, making sure to take care of your whole body as if it was his.

“Alright, all done,” he sighed, “Let’s get those dressings replaced, and I’ll take you to bed.”

You raised your eyebrows suggestively. He exhaled, smiling down at you in disbelief, his voice deep and ragged,

“Fuckin’ hell, birdie. Keep teasin’ me and I bloody will take you to bed.”

You smiled, laughing with him, enjoying his warmth as you leaned your body against his, letting the soft spray from the shower protect you both, cocooned together, safe and sound.

[bellasprettywords]

So High School (Spencer Reid x Reader)

a/n: It’s me, hi, so I’m kind of back, although I’ve decided to expand my horizons and also write for Doctor Spencer Reid from Criminal Minds; either way, I hope you like this little writing🤭💕

This one shot is inspired by So High School by Taylor Swift from The Tortured Poets Department, which is my current obsession, so if you are swifties, I hope you guys catch the references 🫶🏼

This is season 2 Spencer, cause I just really dig the shy-sweet vibe

This is not proofread, as it’s 2 am, but I couldn't stop

y/n – your name

Warnings: Friends to lovers (kindish), mentions of alcohol

Word count: 2,409

My Masterlist

Working at the BAU wasn’t easy, but every now, and then you’d have days when all you had pending was paperwork, and you’d catch a break. Like right now, sure, you still had a couple of reports to get through, but overall the mood seemed relaxed, even if you’d been working nonstop for the last 24 hours.

You were typing your reports and sporadically, you’d catch a glance of Spencer Reid’s concentrated face, whose desk was in front of you. Sure, you were work friends, but deep down you knew you had a small crush on the twenty-five-year-old Doctor. Your thoughts were starting to fly away, thinking about Spencer's hair, framing his delicate features, his big eyes, which seemed to move frantically over the computer screen, the way he bit the inside of his cheek when he was invested into his work, and the way his brows were crunching, making small wrinkles in his forehead; when suddenly, your train of thought was interrupted.

“You know what we should do? We should play kiss, marry, kill” Penelope suggested way too loudly coming into the bullpen with a huge grin and walking frantically to your desk.

“What are you even saying?” exclaimed Emily, standing from her chair and approaching your desk

“We still have to finish our reports” said Spencer, who seemed to be glued ho his computer, taping frenetically

“Did I just hear kiss, marry, kill?” Morgan approached your desk and one by one, the gang was coming all together

“Okay, first round, y/n, kiss, marry, kill with Gideon, Hotch and Rossi?” Penelope asked a little too excited for the question

“Come on, I’m not answering that” you said chuckling at the thought of even giving a response

“Comeeeeeee ooooooon” this time Morgan insisted and the absurdity of the question made you laugh so hard, Spencer looked up from his computer

“Fine, kiss Rossi, marry Hotch and kill Gideon, because he has way too much dad energy to kiss or marry him” you said, and your friends burst out laughing

“We are way too sleep-deprived to be here” Emily said chuckling, “Also, I’m starving”

“I have a frozen pizza at home I just can’t wait to devour” you said and suddenly your friend's eyes seemed to sparkle

“Now that I know that, I’m totally going home with you” Penelope said clinging to your arm

“I’m tagging along as well” Emily added clinging into your other arm

“They say three is a multitude, so I’m coming, just to keep you guys in check” Morgan exclaimed, and you couldn’t wait for Spencer to add himself into your plans, but unfortunately, the young doctor was back into his working frenezzy.

“Como on Spence, we are going home” you said hoping he’d tag along to your improvised plan, even if you were almost certain he’d say no, considering he didn’t really talk to you other than work related business; and rarely info dumped on you, which made you a little sad, considering his info dumps were one of the things that you most liked about him.

“Excuse me?” Spencer said crunching his eyebrows and staring over his screen monitor into your eyes

“We… we are all coming to my house to eat pizza, I was… I was wondering if you’d like to come” you stuttered and felt your cheeks become red. Anytime, you’d try to talk to Spencer about anything other than work, words would trip out of your mouth incomprehensibly, your cheeks would flush in a bright shade of red, and you were pretty sure anyone with a brain knew about your crush, specially considering you’d act like a high schooler in love around him.

“Come on man, we can even trow some poker to sweetener the deal for you” Morgan added

“Also, y/n told me that she has the new Grand Theft Auto, so we could play for a while” Penelope tried convincing Spencer appealing to his love for video games, and if it wasn’t obvious before, well, it was obvious now that you were eager to have the boy-genius at your place

“Alright, let me just grab my bag” Spencer said calmly, almost… oblivious to the fact that your friends were playing smooth wingman and wing-woman

“Penny and I are driving together, and Derek is taking his bike, so Reid, you can drive with y/n” Emily said and for a second, you couldn't believe how shamelessly uncool your friends were being about the whole situation

“If it’s alright with you, I’d appreciate riding with you” Spencer told you a little… flustered? No way, you were the one fangirling over him, maybe he was just getting secondhand embarrassment for the whole situation and your friend’s pathetic attempts to get you together.

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The ride home was quite nice, Spencer seemed to loosen up when he got the chance to share statistics on pizza consuming habits in the U.S. and somehow, he managed to incorporate the history of pizza:

“So, a precursor of pizza was probably the focaccia, a flatbread known to the Romans as panis focacius, to which toppings were then added. Modern pizza evolved from similar flatbread dishes in Naples, Italy, between the 16th and mid-18th century” Spencer kept explaining, while you took the chance to steal a couple of glances, even if it was a driving hazard “I’m sorry, I’m sure you are bored with my nonstop chatter” the young Doctor added shyly

“No way, I really enjoy your facts and stories” you said, and a shy smile formed into his lips, so you took a leap of faith, hoping with all your heart he wouldn't be uncomfortable with what you were about to say “I love the way your mind works, I find it amazing how you can just know so much, you know?”

“Thank you, it is called an eidetic memory, most people think it’s weird” Spencer said looking down to his hands, that were lying over his lap.

OH MY GO, WAS DOCTOR SPENCER REID BLUSHING? You were trying your best to hide your excitement, and luckily you were saved by the bell, as without realizing it, you were already parking in front of your apartment building

“So this is me, home sweet home” you said turning off the engine of your car and Spencer gave you a side smile that made your stomach flutter

“Thanks for the drive, and you know, for having me” he said, and you were high on his words; everything about him seemed to fascinate you, but before your mind could go wild, Morgan tapped your car window to let you know he was there, and after a couple of minutes, Penelope and Emily were outside as well

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“I’ll put the pizza in the oven, so maybe we can play a round of poker while we wait?” you suggested as your friends took a seat at the table, and you handed them a beer each.

“That’s what I’m talking about” Morgan said, already shuffling the deck of cards. The game was fun, although Spencer won each and every round. The night was everything you could ask for, Spencer seemed comfortable at your apartment, and he even got around to joking and laughing out loud.

“Truth or dare?” Morgan said spinning his empty beer bottle with mischief in his eyes, and laughs started bursting, until it landed on Emily

“Truth” she said glancing at Morgan with amusement

“Have you even come into work tipsy?” Morgan asked

“Alright, yeah, once when we were working with the Newport Police” she replied calmly “Now, have anything stronger?” Emily asked, lifting her beer bottle

“As a matter of fact, I do” you said standing from your chair and bringing different alcohol bottles, you had a wide selection of whiskey, wine, rum, tequila, and vodka

“What are you? A bartender?” Penelope asked, surprised by the alcohol selection.

“I tried, I even got a book, but between life and work I never got around to reading it” you added pouring your friends a couple of drinks.

Emily spun the bottle, and it landed on Spencer, who gulped a little too loudly, and you couldn’t keep your eyes from his Adam’s apple “Truth or dare, boy-genius?” she asked taking you off from your thought

“I… mm… truth?” he said almost too afraid of what your friends could think about asking him

“Alright, what do you think about y/n?” Emily asked bluntly, and you could see Spencer’s cheeks turning red. Sure, you loved your friends, but their mingling was getting way too obvious for your mental health

“I… I think she’s great, I mean, of course she is incredibly smart, she’s sweet, funny, and she has a special way to always makes you feel heard and taking into consideration. It is undeniably that she’s pretty, I mean, and… yeah that's what I think” Spencer said staring into your eyes, and you couldn't believe it, you literally were wonderstruck.

Did he like you? Did he just admit you were pretty? You were literally on cloud nine when you realized Spencer had spun the bottle, and this time it was facing you

“What’s… What’s your favorite movie?” Spencer asked shyly, and all eyes turned to him

“Come on man, that was your shot” Morgan said leaning into Spencer

“That changes, but right now I’d say American Pie” you said trying not to sound too embarrassed. Secrets were spilled, confessions were made, and shots were taken, until Penelope spun the bottle and once more, it landed on Spencer

“Truth or dare, lover-boy?” Penelope asked a little too excited, which once more made Spencer a little nervous, considering the situation, and of course, the fact that he pretty much just admitted having a crush on you

“Dare?” Spencer said, almost asking

“Uuuh I got a great one, read y/n’s bartender book, and then prepare us some fire ass drinks” she said almost euphoric

“Oh, okay, sure, I can do that” Spencer said released a breath he didn't realize he was holding “y/n, would you mind lending me the book? So I can read it, please?” he asked shyly, and you knew this was your chance to make a move

“Of course, although I’m not sure where it is, so… maybe you can help me find it?” you asked hoping he caught the subtext

“Yes, yes I can help you look” he said, and a little grin formed into his lips

“What about playing the Grand Theft Auto whille they go lok for the book?” Morgan asked smootly, giving you just what you needed, a chance to slip to the side with Spencer

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You were now in your room, with the guy that made your stomach flutter, and once again, you coultn shake away the feeling of being a sixteen year old girl approaching her crush for the first time. Okay, so until now you knew there was a chance he actually liked you, so for the first time, you tried to flirt smootly

“So, the book must me somewhere on this wall” you told Spencer pointing at the wall-tall-bookshelf that adorned your room

“That is an impressive collection” Reid said admiring your books

“Thank you, I like… reading, and of course, books” you mumbled and between the nerves of having him in your room, and the fact that he was aproaching you, starring directly at your eyes, your braing wasn’t braining it. This defenetly wasn’t considered smooth, or flirty

“Truth or dare?” Spencer said coming closer to you

“Truth” you responded almost instantly

“Why is American Pie your favorite movie?” he asked, and the question genualy threw you off

“I know most people think it’s a really stupid movie, but even in those crazy scenarios, the guys get to laugh, and learn about life, sure, it’s twisted, and watching to too your can defenetly cause issues, but I think it’s a great piece of cinematography”

“That’s impressive, altough I can’t judge, as I’ve never got arroud to watch it” Spencer said, moving a little, and turning back to your book collection

“Truth or dare, Doctor Reid?” you asked playfully

“Truth” he said chuckling, and once again, you confirmed his little laughs sent a dopamine charge into your brain that was almost adictive

“What’s your favorite thing from my collection?” you asked, moving your hand motioning your bookshelf

“While you have an impressive Aristotle collection, which I’m a big fan of, right now my favorite thing in this room is not exactly a thing, but a person” he said once again leaning into you, “Truth or dare, miss y/n?” he asked coming even closer to your face

“Truth” you asked playing it safe, as he had suddenly turned into Doctor Smooth Reid, and seeing him take charge, was a side of him, one that you were totally enjoying

“What are you thinking about right now?” he said, leaning a little closer to you

“Actually, all I can think about right now is kissing you” you admited, bitting you lower lip, but not giving him time to answer, you asked “Truth or dare?”

“Dare” Spencer said, with his eyes lingering from your eyes, to your lips and viceversa

“I dare you to kiss me” you said, and as you finished yout sentence, his hand was cupping your cheeck, his other hand was placed on your waste, and his lips were softly crashing into yours. The kiss was soft, and sweet, with a couple of bites in between. One kiss, then another one, and swiftly, Spencer made you turn, placing your back towards your bookshelf and getting closer to you, just like you, he longed for this moment, for your kiss, for your touch. You were enjoyoing yourselves way too much, when you heard a knock on your door, which made the two of you burst out laughing

“We should go back to them” Spencer said, placing a las kiss into your lips

“Maybe next Saturday you can come over, I mean, you can’t go though life without the rite of passage of watching American Pie” you said chuckling, hoping with all your flustered heard he’s say yes

“That would me wonderful, I can’t keep living like this, without watching American Pie, I mean” he said lacing his fingers with yours, and opening the door for you, so the two of you could go back to your friends, who were also laughing from the living room, as they were sure their mission of getting you together had been succesful.

Part 2

I really hope you liked it, let me know if you want part 2, as I'm pondering the idea of the American Pie date.

Kay, love you, bye 🩷

[lostdreamr-blog1]

Pinky Promise 3

Part 1

Part 2

Word count: 2K

Pairings: Jake Seresin X Reader

A/N: Round 3 of Pink Promise! I have a few more I want to put out, but if you have something you want to see in them let me know! It's been a lot of fun writing these. Thanks for reading!!

The two of you were sitting around Jake’s house eating takeout Chinese food. Some old movie was playing on the TV. For some reason Jake preferred the classics but you found them to be incredibly boring. It was often you found yourself in this same position, sprawled out on his couch, sitting in a comfortable silence as you watched another movie you couldn’t retell the plot of.

Which is why in that moment you chose to say, “I got into medical school.”

It was nearly comical watching him choke on the spoonful of rice. He sat up and looked over to you, still coughing up those last pieces. “I’m sorry. What did you just say?” The look he gave you was disbelief mixed with something else. Something you hadn’t seen before.

“I don’t think I stuttered.” You took a bite of an egg roll and waited for his mind to catch up.

“Medical school? For doctors?” You couldn’t help but smirk at his choice of questions. “Yes, like for doctors. I thought pilots were supposed to be smart?”

He shook his head and laughed, “When the hell did you have time for that?”

You finished off the egg roll and shrugged your shoulders, “What do you think I do all day while you’re at work?”

This path you took was one you had been on for a while Everyone saw you as the girl who parties, the one who doesn’t care about the outcome of her decisions. But it couldn’t be farther from the truth. And instead of showing people how wrong they were about you, you let them form their very low opinions. Pleasing people was never one of your strong points and a few judgmental comments weren’t going to tear you down.

Jake was clearly still processing things but paused the movie to give you his full attention. What he said next though, nearly made you cry right then and there.

“I am so proud of you, sweetheart. Holy crap you are going to be a doctor.” He got up and pulled you into a tight hug. It was then the look on his face made more sense. It was a look of pride, and one you hadn’t gotten before.

“Tell me all about it. Where are you going? When do you start?” His enthusiasm for this made you feel something that part of you was afraid to feel. This man was slowly becoming your best friend, which is why you pushed down all other feelings. No need to ruin a good thing.

“Well, I decided I wanted to stay close to home and was lucky enough to get into the University of California San Diego. My GPA was a little short of what they wanted, but I killed the interview. Something about your dad dying while fighting for his country tends to pull on heartstrings.”

Jake shook his head, “You did not pull that card.”

You waved a hand at him, “Please. I would be dumb not to. I also threw in about staying close to the base in case anything happened to Bradley. And that I might follow in the family footsteps one day.”

Jake’s head tilted at the last part. “You are not enlisting. I draw the line at that.”

You rolled your eyes at him, “Down tiger. All I meant was that I would want to work at a hospital close to base. The one all of you get sent to when something goes wrong.”

Relief was evident as he exhaled. “I don’t think the military could handle you anyway.”

It was true. You were never one to follow orders well. Plus having a third Bradshaw in the Navy would be too much for anyone.

You picked the remote back up and resumed the movie. While Jake thought this was a big deal, you were ready to get back to the movie night. You still had a few months until school started anyway.

The movie had been playing for a few minutes, but you could feel eyes on you every now and then. “Is something the matter?”

You glanced over to the man next to you and watched him shake his head. “Nothing. You just keep surprising me, that’s all.”

“Well, either turn your attention back to this movie or I’m putting something better on. Maybe something made in this decade.” A chuckle graced your ears and a quick, “Yes ma’am.”

It wasn’t until the credits were running that he said, “You better not forget about me when you become a big shot doctor.”

“I don’t think I could forget about you even if I tried.” And it was the truth. That one drunken call has led you to one of the best things in life.

“Pinky promise you won’t.” He had his signature smirk on full display as he held out his pinky for you to shake on. You happily gave him yours, thrilled that the Top Gun pilot has accepted this form of promises.

When he pulled away, he asked, “What made you want to become a doctor?” It was a simple question with a very loaded answer.

“When my mom was sick, it was just me and her most of the time. Bradley was off at the academy, something she wouldn’t tell him but absolutely hated. And I found myself wanting to give her some sort of joy to offset my brother’s choices. I made her a promise that I was going to graduate and get a degree in something. Something that would make a difference. It took a while to figure out what that was, but the look of pride on her face when I said medical school, I only wish I had a photo of that single moment.

“When there were days I questioned if I could do it or if I even still wanted to, I think back to that conversation and all doubts went out the window. There are very few things in life I want more than graduating from med school which is why I worked so hard to even get it.” Jake wiped a tear that I didn’t know had fallen.

“She would’ve been happy that you accomplished a goal while still holding onto yourself. That you had fun while doing it. Not too many people can find that balance which tells me you are going to do amazing. But if you ever need some sort of motivation or a simple distraction from school, you can call me anytime sweetheart.”

And just like that, you knew Jake Seresin was going to be in your life for as long as you could keep him.

After the incident a little while back, your brother made an effort to be more present in your everyday life. Which meant he was currently over at your apartment criticizing how you were making dinner.

“At any point you can either cook yourself or shut up.” Bradley held up his hands in surrender.

“All I’m saying is that you are going to burn the bottom of it if you don’t stir it more often.” You turned around from the food and pointed the utensil in your hand at him. Which just so happened to be a knife.

“Listen here bird boy. My house, my rules which means you can sit your judgmental ass down before I do something you can’t bounce back from. Last I checked you needed all ten fingers to fly.”

Again, he held up his hands and thankfully kept his mouth shut while you finished up. It wasn’t too much longer before you were dishing out food for the two of you and sitting down to eat it like a normal family. The two of you sat in silence while you ate, neither of you knowing what to say.

It was like this most nights. After your mom died Bradley threw himself into his work, leaving you to fend for yourself. It wasn’t anyone’s fault but the two of you grew apart as the years went on, leaving you to call your brother only when you needed help. This is what formed his new picture of you. He only saw you when you were at your worst.

But he was trying and the least you could do was meet him halfway.

“You know how you see me as careless and not at all organized with life?” You watched as your brother sighed and shook his head.

“We have gone over this. That is not how I see you. We just have different goals in life and that’s fine.” You waved him off.

“Right. Well, I am pleased to tell you that I’m not as big as a fuck up as you might think. I start med school in a few months.” Bradley dropped his spoon, sending food splattering on the counter.

You watched his facial expressions, looking or hoping for the one you got the other day from Jake. It wasn’t that you needed the validation from your brother, but it would be nice to see it for once.

“Med school? The school where you go to become a doctor?” You snorted at the similar question Jake had asked.

“What is with pilots and their lack of common sense. Yes, Bradley. The school for doctors.” You grabbed a napkin to wipe up the drops of food while he tried to form words.

“How?” You froze at that single word. It shouldn’t surprise you, the lack of faith this man had in you. But it still stung.

“The same way anyone gets in. Ace a test, get decent grades, and interview well. Not too hard when you think about it.” Which wasn’t exactly true. You had a lot of all-nighters, tears shed at the near impossible dream, and many bumps along the way. But you had to do it.

“Mom and dad would be proud of you.” Your eyes met his and you saw something different in them. It wasn’t the pride you were looking for but sadder. Like the weight of those words cut through him.

“I know. I was always trying to follow in your footsteps, even if I did take a longer path. But you know dad would’ve been ecstatic to see you wear the patch he tried so hard for. And mom, well mom would’ve eventually gotten over her fears of you being a pilot and saw how you were born for this. You know that, right?”

He cleared his throat and focused back on his food. “Anyone else know? It’s a pretty big deal.”

You picked up on the change of topic and said, “Your arch nemesis knows. Besides that, the friend list is pretty scarce these days.”

He slowly nodded his head, “You seem to spend a lot of time with him.”

“He’s a good friend. No need to look too far into it. I know the two of you have your issues, but he’s never given me a reason to question his intentions.”

Bradley hummed in response, but he didn’t fully believe you when it comes to only being friends. He’s seen the way Jake is at work, but with you he was completely different. You might not see it or are trying to ignore it, but he knew better.

“Are you and him still at each other’s throats?” Bradley rolled his eyes, “It’s not my fault he thinks he’s better than everyone else. He’s insufferable.”

You grabbed the finished plates and took them to the sink. “You know what would get under his skin? If you laughed at everything he said. I think that would rile him up good.”

Bradley squinted his eyes at you, “I thought the two of you were friends? Why would you tell me that?”

You shrugged your shoulders, “He is always listening to me complain about you. This way he can do it for once so it’s more even.”

Bradley threw his napkin at you and shook his head, “You’re a jerk, you know that?”

You threw him one of Jake’s signature smirks, “But I’m your jerk.”

Tag List: @rosiahills22 @sunlitsunflowers @dempy @mamaskillerqueen @luckyladycreator2 @atarmychick007 @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @topguncultleader @alilstressyandlotdepressy @avengers-fixation @chaoticcassidy @alldaysdreamers

[hidden-poet]

Commander Snow: 10

Commander Snow

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

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

Editor: @hotline-to-hell

chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter three

Chapter four

Chapter five

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

chapter 9

Chapter 10

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Would you change too? You supposed you had. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Him calling you wife made your heart curdle. 

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

“There was no issue,” you insist. 

He doesn’t push you on it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

The women seemed unbothered to see you. 

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

“Good morning.” You offer back. 

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

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

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

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

“Yes,” you say instead, “Did you?” 

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

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

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

“No, I haven’t.” You agree. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Coriolanus smiles at Tigris under her praise. 

“And you?” he asks, turning to you. 

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

“Congratulations, President Snow.”  You offer. 

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

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

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

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

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

 His casual demeanor returns as Tigris’s attention does. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes?” He answers the call. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“All of it,” she sighs. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Five women stand above you and begin work. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Leave the room,” he commanded. 

Tools are dropped as they follow his request.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A gentle kiss is placed against your ear. 

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

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

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

“Leave me alone, Coriolanus,” you demanded. 

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

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

“Come in,” he orders. 

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

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

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

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

He steps over her and back to his room. 

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

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

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

“Well say less.” she rasped. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Coriolanus noticed anyway. 

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

“Yes, President Snow” the woman apologizes. 

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

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

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

They lead you to the bathroom with a dress bag. 

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

“Yes, President Snow,” she mocked. 

“Shut up,” the hair stylist barked. 

The dress was pulled from the bag without a wrinkle. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You look beautiful,” he comments. 

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

“Thank you,” you reply. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And you, Mistress.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You stood until the head of staff pushed you forward. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Coriolanus stands from the desk in front of the reporters. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you think?” He asks. 

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

“I never have,” he admits. 

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

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

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

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

Coriolanus picks up a small decorative statue and examines it. 

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

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

“Shall we see upstairs?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But time passes with no appearance.

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

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

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

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

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

But something about it captivates Coriolanus. 

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

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

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

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

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

“I am sorry that happened to you.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Saved me?” You questioned. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—------------------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—----------------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

In hope you take another one. 

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

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

It appeared the same as the other.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—--------

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

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

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

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

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

“Kicking, is he?” Coriolanus asks. 

“Yeah. Something like that,” you state. 

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

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

“Are you alright?” He asks with concern. 

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

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

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

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

You feel Coriolanus place a hand on your back. 

“I’ll call for the doctor,” he says. 

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

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

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

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

“To the bed,” he demands, “Come on.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, No.” Coriolanus consoles. 

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

“Mrs. Snow, push.” The doctor bids. 

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

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

“Push,” Coriolanus tells you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Still, you scream for her to save you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mum!” you shout, “Archie!” 

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

You watch as Coriolanus holds tight to the small blanket. 

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

—-----------

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

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

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

With newfound motivation you will yourself to get your bearings. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is he healthy?” You ask. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, you should,” he finally spoke.

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

“Here, do you want to hold him?” 

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

He fits perfectly and doesn’t wake.

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

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

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

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

“Did I?” you fawn. 

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

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

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

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

“I love you too, Coriolanus.”

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

—--------------

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

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

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

“Yes,” you agree. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“They are my family,” you spat. 

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

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

“Lay back down,” he demands. 

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

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

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

“I don’t care!” You yell. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No,” you whisper. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.”

“Who do you consider family then?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—-----------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Keep going,” you encourage. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You thank them although you wanted none of their assistance. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your lips were warm on him and worked so well. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—-------------------- 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He arrived home to chaos he could not settle. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Because you’re my wife. That’s why.”

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

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

You would remain civil but not overly friendly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Coriolanus, not here,” you beg. 

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

“I want another baby,” he requests. 

“Not here. Someone could find us.” 

“Not if you are quiet.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I think you could,” he states. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your children are asleep when you arrive home. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Let's get ice cream,” he bribes. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The end!

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

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

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

Hope to see you all in my other works!

taglist:

@sarahskakskskskajakwwnwjw

@mrsjobarnes

@greekyoghurtwithberries

@namelesslosers

@urfavnoirette

 @aleemendoza2425-blog

@hiatuswhore

@jacesvelaryons

@swimmjacket

@brooks-lin

@dawnissunnysideup

@astarborntowrite

@someonefromwutheringheights

@purriteen

@homopheli

@devils-blackrose

@poppyflower-22

@bruher

@dawnissunnysideup

@winter-bearv 

@tempt-ress

@serinatly100986

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@aleemendoza2425-blog

@inloveallthetime

@hufflepuffxsworld

@chennyetomlinson

@slumnit

@saharadesertaj

@missbeeentertainment

[mapiforpresident]

Please Don’t Leave Me Part 2

Part 1

~~~

Alexia couldn’t hear anything besides ringing as she fell to the floor on her knees. 

“Ma’am, Mrs. Putellas, can you hear me? Y/n needs to be rushed into emergency surgery. I need your verbal consent as her wife to operate on her.” The doctor stood there trying to get Alexia coherent enough to listen to watch what she was saying.

Finally Alexia replied, “yes, yes do anything possible to save her please. I can’t live without her. Please help her.”

Hearing the commotion from the hallway, Mapi stepped out of Ingrid’s room just as the doctor rushed back into the room to take you to the operating room.

“Ale what happened? Is y/n ok, they said she was stable.” Mapi said becoming more frantic at why Alexia was balling her eyes out on the floor in the hallway instead of by your bedside. 

“She… she… her heart… they have… to operate… now. Her heart … it was beating so fast. I was just holding her hand … talking to her. I… I told her that I’m pregnant.” Mapi let out a gasp at this, handing going to cover her mouth as the other pulled her best friend closer. “I found out this morning, I was planning… to tell her tonight. I had it all planned out. I bought a little Barca jersey with her number and everything. We’re going to be parents. We’re supposed to be parents together. I can’t do this without her. I can’t lose her. I can’t do this alone.” 

Mapi sat there in shock for a minute taking in what her best friend told her as she gave her as much comfort as was possible for the situation. Mapi knew that the two of you had been trying for a baby for over a year now. Alexia had confided in Mapi many times throughout the rough journey. There had already been many failed IVF attempts and this was going to be your final one. You and Alexia agreed to take a break if it didn’t work. She knew how excited Alexia must have been just that morning when she saw the test was positive. She also realized she and Ingrid were going to be aunts. She couldn’t imagine what her best friend was feeling now. Sure her wife was also in the crash, but Ingrid was for the most part ok and would just need a couple of months to heal. You were in much worse condition. Neither Mapi nor Alexia filling knew what the emergency surgery you were just rushed to even entailed. 

Mapi decided that sitting on the floor would not make either of them feel better, so she stood up. She then lifted her best friend up who gave little protest before leading her into Ingrid’s room. As soon as she entered the room with a sobbing Alexia, Ingrid’s face dropped.

“What happened, where’s Y/n. You told me she was stable. Oh my god,” she said, fearing the worst. She had never seen Alexia looking like this, she knew something terrible happened to you. She had actually been planning to get in a wheelchair and come visit you in a couple minutes. 

“Something happened and her heart started beating really rapidly. She is still alive, they just decided to operate on her now instead of waiting until tomorrow.” Mapi said as she led Alexia to sit in the chair in the corner of the room.

“I’m so sorry Ingrid, I’m so sorry,” Alexia said as a fresh wave of sobs fell over her.

“It’s not your fault, Alexia. Y/n is strong, she will pull through. I know she will.” Ingrid said to both Alexia and herself. Her older sister is the strongest person that she knows. 

“It is my fault I was talking to her when it happened. I told her that she has to get better and that she can’t leave me b…because I’m…. I’m pregnant.” At this Alexia looked up at Ingrid for the first time. Ingrid was laying in the bed looking bruised and banged up, but overall ok, and Alexia was relieved to see her sister-in-law ok. She knew her and Ingrid would both need to lean on each other and Mapi no matter what happens. 

~~~

Alexia sat in the chair in the corner of Ingrid’s room for seven long hours, only moving once to silently go to the bathroom. Nurses came in and out of the room to check on Ingrid and Mapi tried to check on her a couple times, but Alexia couldn’t move or talk or think.

Finally a doctor slowly entered the room. She walked over to your wife and kneeled down in front of her.

“Mrs. Putellas, I’m so sorry. We did everything we possibly could. Y/n’s heart stopped twice during surgery, but the second time we were unable to get it restarted. She passed at 2:54 am. You can see her one final time if you would like, along with her sister and sister-in-law. Then we will have someone come and talk to you ok. Would you like to see her?”

Alexia sat there in complete shock. She knew that there was a chance you wouldn’t make it through the surgery, but to actually hear your time of death was a completely different thing. You were gone. The love of her life and the other mother of her child were actually gone. Just this morning you had woken up to Alexia placing kisses all over your face and you had gotten up to make the two of you breakfast. You had driven to practice together singing to a song on the radio that you had no idea what the words were and then telling her about a prank you wanted to pull on Mapi and Patri later that day. Now she would never look into your eyes again, hear your laugh again, kiss you again, sleep curled in your arms again, be in your presence again. 

She slowly nodded to the doctor. She wanted to say goodbye to you. She got up robotically following the doctor heading to see your now lifeless body one final time.

~~~

Alexia kept pictures of you all around the house. Your daughter Gracie loved looking at all the pictures of her other mom all around the house. She would always ask Alexia about you and Alexia was always happy to tell your daughter all about her brave, beautiful, athletic, intelligent mother. 

Gracie was currently sitting on the living room floor, in a toddler Barça jersey with your name and number on the back, playing with some magnetic blocks Pina had given her for christmas. Right as the tower fell over, the doorbell rang. “Mamí… someone’s at the door,” Gracie yelled to Alexia who was currently making dinner in the kitchen.

“I’m coming, I’m coming bebita, I think it might be someone here to visit you. Do you want to come help me open it?” You got up and ran over into your mamí’s awaiting arms. Alexia walked over to the door and swung it open revealing two of your favorite people.

“Tía Mapi, tía Ingrid, you made it,” Gracie said, practically launching herself into Ingrid’s arms. “Look at the jersey mamí gave me. I am five today. Mamí says I need a new big girl jersey because I’m a big girl now.”

“You are such a big girl, your mummy would be so proud of you Gracie. She would love this jersey,” Ingrid says as she peppers Gracie’s face with kisses as she carries her back into the living room. Just then Patri and Pina also walked into the house with a couple other Barça girls. Ingrid set her down so she could run to show off her new jersey to anyone that would listen.

Ingrid then walked into the kitchen to help Alexia finish preparing all the food as Mapi brought the way too many cupcakes she bought and set them on the counter. “She is getting so big, she looks and acts  more and more like y/n every day. I’m so happy how proud she is to wear her jersey,” Ingrid said as she worked alongside Alexia.

“I know, I can’t believe she is five already. I can’t believe y/n has been gone so long. I miss her so much everyday. I keep thinking it will be easier to live without her, but it never is. I don’t think I could have done this without Gracie.” Alexia looks over to see Patri throwing your daughter up in the air and catching her. She beams and all Alexia can see is your smile on her daughter's face. She lets out a few tears as Ingrid pulls her into a hug. 

“Y/n would be so proud of both of you. You have done an amazing job raising Gracie. She is watching over both of you and will continue to be proud of everything you both do. She loved you so much.”

“I know I just wish that she had the chance to be a mom. I want so bad to watch her be a mom. And I know Gracie loves me and our little family, but I know it hurts her sometimes to not know her other mother, especially when she comes home and talks about how all her friends have two parents. It’s not fair.”

“It’s not fair, to you or to Gracie, but you are both doing an amazing job and I know Y/n is here with us right now making fun of us for getting so emotional instead of eating the cupcakes.” Alexia lets out a teary smile at this. Just then Gracie appears in between them asking her mamí to pick her up.

“Mamí, why are you sad?” Gracie asks in her innocent little voice trying to help wipe Alexia’s tears away as Mapi pulls Ingrid into a comforting hug knowing that Ingrid missed her sister just as much as Alexia missed the love of her life. “I just miss your mummy, she would be so proud of how big you are bebita.”

“I miss mummy too. I want to be a goalie like her when I grow up.” 

“You will be the best goalkeeper Barcelona has ever seen bebita. Do you want to help me take drink orders for all your tía’s” Alexia asked, knowing you loved to go around with your little notepad and pretend to be a waitress. 

At this you wiggled out of your mamí’s grasp and ran back to the living room. Alexia watched as her daughter ran out of the room with your name on her back ready to watch Gracie continue to grow.

~~~ The happy ending will be out later today to make up for this!!!

[psychedelic-pebble]

couldn’t sleep last night and that got me thinking about Stanford and experimentation… so here’s a little blurb of my thoughts! NSFW under the cut :3

- Stanford Pines has an experimentation kink. This is not a surprise. Have you seen him?

- He’d be nervous to bring it up at first, but once he does, your excitement is encouraging.

- You’d probably have to motivate him to actually do anything when you first start out, he’d be much too scared of hurting you to make the first move.

- Once boundaries and rules are set in place it takes a minute for him to build up his dominant persona, but god when he does, it’s insanely attractive.

- He’s really into power play, likes being in control, and especially likes being praised for it. He’d strap you down to a spare lab table (after some convincing), and good lord almighty seeing you like that is driving him insane. He has to keep himself from breaking character and just fucking you like some feral animal.

- He has specially made latex gloves for his six fingered hands that he likes to wear during it - running them down your sides and watching you squirm in your restraints is almost amusing to him.

- He’d get really into the doctor/patient or scientist/subject roleplay. He plays DD&MD, you cannot tell me this man isn’t a god at roleplaying.

- Loves to cut off any physical touch when you’re close, flashing a devilish grin at you and laughing softly.

- “Not yet sweetheart, we’ve got more tests to run.”

- Curse this man.

- Speaking of these “tests”, all he’s doing is edging you over and over. He’d run his hand down your abdomen to tease you before abruptly fingering you, going until your whimpering and begging him for release, but before you can he’d just remove his hand with a barely suppressed grin.

- “Excellent response, very interesting. Let’s see how you respond to this,”

- And then go back to stimulating you in some way or another.

- By the end of this you’re so mind-fucked that you can barely form a sentence. You probably haven’t even cum yet, you just need it so badly your brain feels like it’s melting out of your ears.

- He’s not much better, completely hard in his pants to the point it borderline hurts.

- He undoes the straps binding you and tells you how good you did and how you deserve a reward, and carries you to either the closest couch or bed, laying you down and kissing you deeply.

- You can tell how turned on he is as well, so the two of you spend the rest of the night clawing and biting at each other while he fucks you like he’ll die if he stops.

thanks for reading! i hope you enjoyed :3

divider creds to @cafekitsune :D

[luveline]

Jade my dear I just had an idea for prince Steve… what if he got hurt (fencing or something??? honestly idk) & reader freaks out even though their relationship is fairly new? Or idk how your soulmate au works but maybe she can feel it too? Or idk!! I’d just love to see what you could do with that, but no pressure either way 🫶🏼

ty for requesting!! fem!reader, 1.1k

“Holy fuck!” Steve says, yanking his leg back from the doctor’s cold hands, and hurting his knee worse than ever. “Fuck!” 

“Steven,” she says with an eye roll, used to his lack of carefulness by now. 

“What the fuck.” 

“It’s not that bad. You haven’t even torn anything. It’s a sprain at worst.” 

“I will never walk again.” 

“Fingers crossed,” Robin says, kicking her legs up onto the end of his medical bed. Her hat slips down into her eyes, her naked knees red from ten minutes in the grass trying to persuade Steve into standing again. 

“It hurt so bad. Are you sure I can’t have morphine?” he asks. 

The doctor tightens the bandages one last time around Steve’s knee. “Absolutely not. I’ll make you a peppermint tea for the inflammation. You’ll be better by tomorrow.” 

It throbs evilly. Steve doesn’t believe even for a moment that his knee will be better by tomorrow, he can’t walk without help. “I want to see another doctor,” he decides. 

“Sure,” the doctor says. “Tomorrow.” 

Steve sinks down into the pillows unhappily. What kind of royal life is this? Nobody ever takes him seriously, they couldn’t care less that he’s injured, and now he’s doomed to sit inside for who knows how long in the suffocating heat and the smothering presence of his attendants. Worst day ever. 

“Where’s Y/N?” he asks, because if he’s going to suffer, he’s going to be spoiled about it. “I want to see her.” 

“She’s in her political etiquette class,” Robin says from under the hat, unmoving. 

“That’s dumb. She doesn’t like politics or etiquette. Can we have her pulled out?” 

“Sure, Steve, we’ll disrupt her entire day because you slipped on dry grass.” 

Steve tries to catch the eye of one of the serfs lining the room and by the door, but they’re smart to his ways, and they look away. He doesn’t care. He’s a prince. “Hello? Can someone go and get her, please?” 

They all stand still but uncomfortable for a moment, and then one says, “She’s coming down the hall as we speak, your highness.” 

“Aw, yes,” he says, propping up on his elbows to look out the doorway. There you are, in a pretty, breezy dress you aren’t used to wearing and your hair in one of the new fashions, silver bracelets tinkling on your wrist as you speed walk to the door.

“Hello,” you say, breathless, still shy despite having married him and kissed him more times than he can count (seventeen).

“Sweetheart,” he says, “I’ve been grievously harmed.” 

“They told me, and I–” You rub your index fingernail between the thumb and index of the other hand. “I can feel it,” you say, an embarrassed and adorable smile on your lips as you waver in the door. “Are you okay?”

“You have to sit down and have some morphine too,” he says quickly. 

“You aren’t having any morphine,” Robin says. 

You weave around servants and the dressing table to stand by his bed. He’s pleased to realise you want to sit hip to hip with him, moving over despite his screaming knee, and putting his arm behind you as you hoist yourself onto the bed. “Hello,” he says, audibly charmed by you as he kisses your cheek. He rubs the kiss with the back of his finger. “Didn’t hurt you too much, did I?” 

“It feels like I’ve had a cramp,” you say. “But it’s not– I can’t imagine how it feels for you.”

“I’m sorry to hurt you,” he says.

“Ew,” Robin grumbles, covering her face with skinny hands. 

“Sorry, Robin.” You wipe your forehead. “I freaked out.”

“Don’t say sorry to her,” Steve says, putting his hand on your hip just to watch you fluster, “she’s bitter. Let me rub your knee.”

“What about your knee? What did you even do?”

“I fell. A little. A minor fall.” 

“Will you be alright?” 

“Honey, I’m in agony, and they won’t treat me, and you’re sitting with me, so I’m already fine.” 

Confusion in your gaze melds to sweetness. You’re practically heart-eyed leaning into his side, wrapping your arm around his stomach. You rarely initiate hugs from fear of being overbearing, and he can’t believe his luck. He’ll be eating grass more often. 

“I can feel that you aren’t fine. Are you going to be okay? Seriously, Steve, are you hurting?”

Your soul mark burns a light blue. He’s narrowed your colours down, he thinks, maybe, though they tend to change. Blue means love and affection. He’s a more classic guy —when he’s in love, his soul mark burns a gaussian pink just as it does now. 

“Oh, you can feel it?” he asks.

“Don’t start.” 

“We’re so connected,” he says quietly, teasingly, a flirtation for your ears alone. “It’s almost like we’re soulmates or something. Suns, I wish. I’d be a lucky guy, huh? Connected to a girl like you?” He draws a line from just below your ear to your chin. “I’d feel like a prince among men.” 

“Stop,” you whisper, in a tone that suggests you’d very much like him to continue. 

Nonetheless, he drops his hand in favour of kissing you instead, pressing his lips softly to your cheek. His leg throbs with angry pain and a headache brews between his eyes, but he’s not kidding about being fine. Everything feels better when you’re with him. You truly are the half to his whole, no matter how new your relationship might be. 

“How was your morning?” he asks. 

“Being a princess is awful.” 

“Yes, but it suits you.” 

You turn your face to his, close enough to kiss. It’s very tempting for Steve, but he lets you say what’s clearly on your mind. “I had a funny feeling about you this morning, like something bad was going to happen, and I wanted to be with you in case but they wouldn’t let me out of meditation. Do you think I was having a premonition?”

“Maybe. They wouldn’t let you out?” 

“Morine said I need to have better discipline if I’m going to be queen.” 

He laughs and wraps his arms around you completely for a full, loving hug. “You will be queen, no ifs about it, so you need to start acting like one and have more hissy fits to visit your pathetic husband.” He kisses your cheek three times in quick succession. 

Your soul mark intensifies slowly, until it burns a beautiful, coruscating blue that dances over the skin of your wrist as you hug him back. “You’re the opposite of pathetic.” 

“No, I was. Ask Robin.” 

“He was,” Robin says. 

“But I’m totally cooler now,” he promises. 

You let your face fall into the curve of his neck, tickling him with your smile. “You’re so cool, Steve.” 

“My lovely liar.” He kisses the top of your head. 

“As touching as this is, I have your tea ready now, young Steven,” the doctor says. 

Steve pretends he can’t hear her. 

[whumpsday]

Kane & Jim #56: Else

Chronological masterlist / Writing order masterlist

content: recovery and lots of it, angst, sickfic, accidental emotional whump, fear of starvation, vampire whumpee, whumper turned whumpee (turned caretaker), reunions

Whumpmas in July Day 18: "Or else"

i'm sorry for being so slow with k&j chapters! i'm going to try to be quicker with them in the future. here's one people have been waiting for for a very long time!

-

“You’re sick.”

Jim blinked, taken aback. “What?”

“You’re sick,” Kane repeated, taking another sip from the bowl. One of his last bowls before he was to start finding his own elsewhere. “I can taste it.”

“What? What kind of sick? Is it serious?” Jim asked with increasing urgency. Kane could see it in his eyes: he knew fear, and he hated to see it in Jim.

He wanted more than anything to reassure him, but he couldn’t lie. “I-I don’t know?” he admitted. “I don’t know much of human illnesses. You seem… fine?”

“Shit. Shit shit shit.” Jim grabbed his coat. “I’ll be back soon. I gotta… go to the doctor, or something. Door,” he warned.

“I’m sorry. I’m sure you’ll be okay! You can’t even feel it! You’re a healthy young man!” Kane assured him, ducking into the kitchen.

“Thanks for warning me!” Jim’s voice was laden with nerves. A flash of sunlight made Kane shiver, and he only returned to the living room when it was gone.

Kane knew what this meant: Jim would likely not finish out the week. This was his last meal given. He would have to go to vampire territory tonight, or else he would have nothing to eat come tomorrow. He had to find blood tonight, or else he’d starve. He’d go back to that horrible, empty state, always wanting, always in pain.

He knew Jim wouldn’t really let that happen, but it wasn’t fair to rely on him for blood forever, either. Kane had taken enough, with and without permission. It was Jim’s turn to rest.

Still, the fear of hunger never left him. It was a part of him now, permanently, no matter how much he fed.

And this meant one thing. The thing he’d been putting off and dreading since Jim set him free.

He would have to go to vampire territory and talk to his parents. He knew already that it would not go over well. Father would be either furious or crushingly disappointed that he’d allowed himself to be humiliated by humans, and he wasn’t sure which was worse. Mother would undoubtedly be the latter. He wondered, not for the first time, if they preferred him ‘dead’.

It shouldn’t matter. He knew now that they weren’t… good people. He could see that. He had a new family of sorts, now that Jim had taken him in.

But Jim wasn’t his legal next of kin, and Jim wasn’t the one he had to ask if he wanted his money returned so he could buy blood.

He could always get a job. But it seemed ridiculous to do when he had money sitting right there, and he would likely be found by his parents at some point anyway. There was no avoiding it forever.

Kane drank the bowl down quickly.

-

It was a flu, apparently. Nothing life-threatening, but it set Jim’s anxieties alight. His parents had died of illness, he explained.

While Kane had managed to catch it early, Jim started to devolve within a few hours of arriving home.

Kane knocked on his bedroom door. “Jim? Can I come in?”

“Ugh. Yeah,” he agreed.

Carefully balancing the tray, he entered. He found Jim curled up in bed, looking miserable.

“I’ve brought you lunch.” He’d been practicing his human food skills. He was still quite afraid of the stove, so though he used it when feeling especially brave, he mainly stuck to things that didn’t require cooking. He’d written down several combinations of foods that humans found appetizing, which could often be served in between slices of bread as a ‘sandwich’.

But he needed a tray instead of a plate, because despite his strength, he simply didn’t have enough hands to carry the six cups of water circled around it.

“Lotta water,” Jim noted weakly, grabbing a glass and taking a sip when Kane brought it close. His hand shook, the liquid threatening to spill. Kane watched it close, ready to steady it in a heartbeat if Jim needed him to.

He spoke gently, like he was worried speaking too loud would break Jim in his fragile state. “...Like I’d mentioned, I don’t know much about human illness. Most of what I know comes from you. I just remember… you wanted a lot of water, last time.”

He thought about that time a lot. How he was so close to losing Jim, because he was too proud to listen.

“Ah. Yeah.” Jim wouldn’t look him in the eye. “I remember.”

Kane set the tray down. “I should have taken better care of you,” he whispered. “I’m sorry. I mean–I shouldn’t have had you in the first place, but I did, and you were my responsibility, and I didn’t care for you like I should have.” A hint of tears in his eyes, he took Jim’s unusually-sweaty hand. “I’ll do better this time. Anything you need, I’ll be there.”

That earned a small smile from Jim. “Guess it isn’t so bad being waited on. ‘Specially because you can’t get sick, right?” The smile faded. “…Right?”

“I can’t,” Kane assured him. “You don’t need to worry. Just rest, and I’ll take care of anything you need.”

Jim huffed an almost-laugh. “You really changed, man.”

-

Liz did come over to visit come nightfall, which was good, since despite his promises, Kane had to leave. He didn’t like the thought of leaving Jim alone at night. He knew it made him scared, and Jim deserved to never feel afraid ever again. She brought a container of soup, a yellow liquid with colorful plants and large white orbs floating in it.

He waited, patient, until Liz emerged from Jim’s room. “Liz?”

“Hey. Thanks for looking after him,” Liz said.

“Of course!” The praise spread warmly through him. “There’s, um, something I wanted to talk to you about, if you have the time? Advice, I suppose.”

“Shoot,” she encouraged, flopping over on the couch.

Kane took a deep breath. “So, um, I assume now is a good time to start getting my own blood.”

“Yyyyeah.” Liz shot a glance to the stairs leading to Jim’s room. “I’d say that’s about right.”

“Blood… isn’t free. I have the money–had the money, but I’ve likely been assumed dead for many years. I’ll need to go to my parents to get it back,” he explained. “My parents are not kind people, I’ve come to realize.”

Liz raised an eyebrow, but politely refrained from making any comments about his former obliviousness. “You think they won’t give it back? Isn’t there, like, laws? This can’t be the first time this has happened with vampires, you guys are too good at not dying.”

“No! No, that’s not it, they’d give it back. It’s just, um, they’ll be… quite upset with me, I think. Especially my father.” He sighed. “I didn’t want to talk about it with Jim. I was worried he would feel pressured into giving me more blood than he’s comfortable with. I don’t know. It shouldn’t be as big a deal as it is. I’ve been through so much worse, I don’t understand why this is so terrifying. I suppose I’ve just never failed this badly before.”

“Hey, you made it out of five years with those monsters, alive. Bet there’s not a lot of vampires who could say that,” Liz pointed out.

“Ah, that’s just… not how Father would see it,” Kane said vaguely. Humans were supposed to be the weak ones. The fact that it took him five years to be freed, and he couldn’t even do it himself, would make him an utter embarrassment in their eyes.

And it was all because he couldn’t use persuasion. Everything they’d always believed about him, proven true.

Liz pursed her lips, lost in thought for a moment. “I don’t remember my parents that well,” she admitted. “I know yours suck pretty bad. I don’t think you have to admit more than you need to, right? Like, do they even need to know where you’ve really been? You could just make something up, for the sake of keeping the peace.”

“Make something up…” Kane murmured. He shook his head. “I’m not a very good liar. They’d see right through me. It’s fine, actually, the more I talk about it, the more I realize I’m being a bit ridiculous.” He forced a laugh. “It’s one uncomfortable conversation and then I can come back home.”

“You’ve got this.” Liz patted him lightly on the back, a modification from her usual clap she’d learned tended to scare him. “You’re tough.”

Kane certainly didn’t feel ‘tough’.

“Thank you. It was nice to at least… get it out of my system. Oh, and congratulations. Jim told me about you and Laken.”

Liz smiled. “After what happened, I just knew I had to say something, you know? If they could just be taken from me at any moment. Stuff happens. People die. I didn’t want something to happen to one of us before I could tell them how I feel.”

She stood. “I can give you one more night’s worth, maybe two. If you need some time to think about it and all.”

Kane startled. He and Liz had grown far more amicable over the past months, but he hadn’t expected this from her.

Maybe he should have. It wasn’t the first time. He thought of Jim, on that first night, vehemently denying Liz’s offer to provide blood, vowing to do it himself.

“...Thank you. That means so, so much to me. It’s alright, though. I’ll go tonight,” he decided.

“Good luck. We’ll be here when you get back,” she promised.

And that was all he really needed, in the end.

Kane got up, heading to the door with a quick glance back to make sure it was alright. For the freedom he’d earned, he hadn’t gone more than ten feet from the house since he’d returned with Laken. But of course, Liz made no move to stop him. “I’ll see you soon.”

-

The night was as beautiful as ever, even in the cool autumn air. He liked it better this way, in fact. It made it more comfortable to wear more clothing, the long pants and long sleeves and jacket he liked, especially when he ran. When he went this fast, he hardly felt the cold, and his mind was occupied elsewhere.

What if his parents made demands of him in exchange for their help? What if they expected him to return to vampire territory, to isolate himself out of the way in a socially-acceptable manner? Now that he’d tasted true companionship, he almost couldn’t bear to give it up. And what about Jim? Ever since Laken’s abduction, he’d been more scared at night. The very least Kane owed him was his protection.

His petty worries disappeared the instant he realized he could hear a vehicle coming closer.

Kane ran faster, opposite the sound. He’d likely been pushing fifty miles an hour before, and could make sixty if he tried–but he was out of practice, and the vehicle was faster.

A glance behind him showed moonlight glinting off a silver crossbow.

“I have permission!” he wailed as the off-roader gained, heart threatening to burst from his chest. This couldn’t happen, not again, no. Jim and Liz wouldn’t even think to look for him until a day had passed, a day that could easily be spent baking in the hot sun. “Liz Lieberman granted me permission to cross! Please, I didn’t do anything! Mercy!”

“Kane?” an unfamiliar voice called. The vehicle caught up to him, but there was no attack. “Oh shit, it’s you!” the driver said. “It’s so dark, I almost didn’t recognize you from the picture Laken showed us. Thanks for bringing ‘em back.”

Kane slowed, just a bit. “What?” he squeaked, tears streaming down his face.

The hunter in the passenger seat elbowed his partner, making quick movements with his hands that Kane could not understand. A signed language of some sort, he assumed. Though he didn’t know much about such things, other than that spoken orders under persuasion often didn’t work on humans who utilized it.

“Uh, my partner wants to know if you’re good? Like, you’re alright?” The driver asked. “Did we scare you? Sorry. Just, uh, you know, gotta be quick with the other guys. One second wasted and you miss ‘em, and that’s someone’s whole life, y’know.”

“Oh. Um, yes, you’d–you’d frightened me. I’m sorry.” Kane wasn’t quite sure what he was apologizing for. “Am I… free to go, sirs?”

“Yeah! Yeah, you can go… sir? Shoot, don’t let us keep you,” the hunter assured.

The one in the passenger seat made more hand-signs, waving him goodbye after. “Nice to meet you!” the other translated, finally driving away.

Kane picked up speed again and didn’t stop until he was sure he’d left the border far behind. He collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath.

He was so close to going back to the pain. If they hadn’t recognized him, he would have been skewered with silver–likely soon killed, not tortured, given they were from Liz’s guild, but still, he would have died in pain. No matter how hard he breathed, he felt like he couldn’t get enough air, and he wasn’t sure if it was that he’d been sprinting for too long or the sheer horror.

He wanted Jim. He wanted Jim to hold him and tell him everything was alright, that he was safe, that no one was going to hurt him. But Jim was miles and miles away, and could not help him here.

And he couldn’t cry on the ground forever. He was burning moonlight, and he needed blood.

Kane forced himself to his feet and wrapped his arms around him. If he squeezed his eyes tight, he could pretend he wasn’t alone, for just a moment.

After a minute like that, he started running once more.

-

By the time Kane reached his parents’ estate, he’d mostly calmed down. It was hard to feel as though hunters would ambush him out of nowhere when he went deep enough into vampire territory to see buildings and people. Any hunter here would be apprehended in seconds.

He touched the gate, brass-coated, though he knew there was silver underneath. There seemed to be some sort of electronic device attached to it, a new addition since his last visit, but he wasn’t sure how to use it. He could climb it, or simply shout, and one of the staff would likely hear him. If he wanted to be extra polite, which he did, he could simply stand here until someone came or went and ask to be let in.

And then that would be it. Kane would be standing face-to-face with his parents. He would accept Father’s ire without complaint. He’d had worse, he reminded himself, even when it came to the comparable. The hunters had spit on him while calling him worthless, ground his face into the floor while forcing him to decry himself as beneath them. It had been so much worse.

His hand shook against the gate.

You’ve really changed, man.

Had he? If he was still back here, ready to take whatever judgments his parents threw at him, debase himself and eagerly beg for their forgiveness, had he really changed? There were humans in there. Captive, hurt humans who he could never in a thousand years be able to free if he tried, locked away in their quarters. What happened to all his regrets? His vows that he would never associate with anything of the sort again?

What would he have done differently here before, if he’d realized back then everything he knew now?

Kane left.

-

It took him a bit to find it, he hadn’t been to this town before, but it wasn’t far, and he knew the address.

There was a different kind of dread this time. If he was rejected here, it might be even worse than his parents. But as he rang the doorbell, he knew this was what he had to do.

The man who answered looked almost exactly the same as the last time he’d seen him, thirteen years ago. The same dark skin, perfect hair, typically garishly-colorful shirt.

Bellamy’s eyes went impossibly wide, as though he’d seen a ghost.

“Kane?”

taglist in reblogs, chapter 57 coming july 30th :)

@whumpmasinjuly

[save-the-villainous-cat]

“So, are you just going to stare at my pretty face all day, or…?” The villain crossed their arms in front of their chest and rolled with their eyes. It was embarrassing enough, the hero didn’t have to rub it in.

“Is that such a crime?”

The villain let out a humourless huff. Their anger was evident, their frustration obvious.

And the pain, god, sometimes the villain couldn’t even breathe. Getting out of bed was already hard enough but being forced to work under these conditions?

Of course, it could have been worse. As part of their rehabilitation, they didn't need to do much, their work wasn't even that demanding.

But with their injuries, every move seemed to be unbearable.

“Just fuck off.”

“I have some documents to sign for you. My boss insists.” The hero fished a folder out of their bag and, unfortunately, they had indeed more documents. The villain found it quite unbelievable how much they had to sign. Although they knew it wasn't clever not to read over all of the pages carefully, they were too tired to do so.

They didn't really care that much either.

“Or better known as your excuse for visiting me,” the villain joked. Their side started to hurt again, a pain so cruel and prominent that they had to remind themselves to take everything slow.

It was actual hell. Not being able to do anything. Not being able to move freely. Although the doctor had assured them they were healing and doing well, the villain felt everything but fine. It had been over three weeks now and they were still waking up in the middle of the night. Pain robbed their sleep and pain robbed their mobility. They were impatient, they were annoyed.

The interrogation room was very familiar to the villain by now. Every week, they got to meet the hero. Either documents or lectures — whatever topic the hero chose, it was always a long conversation the villain’s body couldn’t manage towards the end.

However, they never said anything. The hero's visits were better than work. They were the best part of the entire week.

“I don’t need excuses to visit you,” the hero said, winking. They pushed the document towards the villain. “Sign here.”

The villain sighed. They didn’t even look at the paper.

“Can you ask them to increase my medication again at least?” the villain asked softly. They took in a deep breath and signed the document on the last page, their pen following their shaking hand's command as quickly as possible.

"I'm sorry, you're already on the highest dose possible."

"Oh." The villain put down the pen and stared at their nemesis. Their nemesis who had captured them. Who had put them in this situation in the first place. They seemed to be recovering just fine. They seemed to be fit and healthy, seemed to be in the prime of their life. Attractive and kind - perfection had carved itself through the hero. "...do you think the people here are honest? The nurses and the doctors, I mean?"

"Some of the best people in the country are working here," the hero said. "That includes medical staff."

"Okay." The villain's voice was quiet. They didn't understand the logistics behind a place like this, they didn't understand anything about the things the hero gave them to sign. "Did you know they're experimenting on me?"

"They take samples from your tissue or blood to look at in the lab. Seriously. You're not in any danger." The hero smiled sweetly and scratched the back of their neck. "I check the reports regularly and I talk to your doctor on a daily basis. It's their priority to help you."

"Why?"

"Well, you're a victim, are you not? We don't know much about the supervillain and their powers, so helping you recover could help us get more information on them. And considering your past, we have to...observe you in a special place like this." The hero leaned over the table to get to the document. Their fingertips touched the villain's knuckles by accident. "That's only one reason, of course. Most importantly, you were beaten to death and needed help."

"It wasn't that bad."

"Half your organs were hanging out of you when I found you," the hero said. Their voice was quieter now, maybe lost in their thoughts even. "I donated a kidney for you."

"You can be so romantic," the villain said. The sarcasm didn't really come across and the villain knew how half-hearted their jokes had become. It wasn't like they weren't grateful, it was just difficult to be saved and have a life when they had accepted their outcome a while ago. That day, they had accepted that they wouldn't survive. They had made their peace with it and then the hero had saved them.

And now, the villain had to live with this horrible pain.

With the nightmares and the fear. They had become a stranger in their own body. It didn't feel like they had control over themselves anymore. Although the hero was right, they couldn't help but feel like a lab rat.

"The point is...you're the only person who has survived them and if they find out you're alive..."

"A facility like this won't hold them back," the villain said. "It would be a minor inconvenience."

"I know, that's why-" the hero held up the document "-you just signed a request for special protection. With me being your caretaker."

Again, that sweet smile spread across their face but the villain didn't really know what that meant. Their poor heart skipped a few beats.

"Are you saying you'll be staying here?" The villain's neck started to heat up. Wasn't this a bit too much? Had they asked for too much? With the medication and the doctors...wasn't this too much effort for the hero to put in?

"I am saying you're coming with me if this gets approved. Which it will."

"Like, to your house?"

"Yes, darling." The hero leaned back in their chair and took in a deep breath. "I've been working on this ever since I found you. I knew the agency wouldn't let you recover in a prison that easily. I argued that you're a victim and a source of information. That brought you here. But still, they made you work in here which I argued to be counterproductive. The law department is pretty annoyed by me."

"I...I'm not sure what to say," the villain said. Their head was reeling. Maybe everything would be a little easier. Maybe waking up would be easier. Were they actually dreaming? They could be out of here soon?

"You don't have to say anything." The hero stood up and walked up to them. Once they were closer to the villain, they sat down on the table, looking down at them. "I just need you to rest."

"You didn't have to do this," the villain said. Their voice was shaking. "You didn't have to save me again."

"I can't help it. By the way, we have matching scars, did you notice that? I can't just leave you in here."

"You suck," the villain said, but there were tears in their eyes. The relief they felt was indescribable. This place was alright. The people were alright. But they weren't the hero. They weren't comforting. With their chair, they moved closer towards them. "You're so horrible."

They leaned their head against the hero's arm, too tired and overwhelmed to hold up the weight of their head anymore. Quickly, the hero went through their hair with their fingers, holding their jaw in their hands and guiding them to lay their head on their lap.

"Oh, honey..." They played with the villain's hair and scratched their scalp softly. Their fingers went over the villain's face, carefully avoiding their bruises. "I promise I will take care of you."

They stayed like this until visiting hours were over.

[slytherinshua]

CHERRY BOWS

genre. fluff. cheol as a dad. warnings. toddler/parent stuff. cheol gets jelly. pairing. husband!scoups x wife!reader. wc. 1k. request. request by @blue-jisungs: you asked for soft hours n i shall give!! it’s been in my mind for a hot while actually but i’m too busy rn to do it myself… and you’re the perfect person bc U MADE ME THINK IF TJAT 🫵🫵 jealous dad seungcheol :( ofc he loves u n ur kid but give him some attention too smh >:T and requested by anon: i love your svt as dads!! they’re all so cute and i’d like to request one for cheol! a/n. i love love love dad cheol omg :( my second dad fic for him hehe <3 hes so girl dad coded and SOOOOO ADORABLE SKDJKS I LOVE HIM!!!!

“You ate without me…?” Cheol’s sleepy mumble was the first thing you heard from him. He had tiredly trudged downstairs when he had woken up and you weren’t next to him in the bed. It was already a bad start to the day when that happened, and he was frowning and pouting and generally sulking about it by the time he found you.

He wrapped his arms around you from the back, trapping you in the middle of the living room so you couldn’t continue without giving him the attention he needed. You smiled at his clinginess and deep raspy morning voice, but scoffed at how baby-like he was in the morning. Sometimes he acted even more like a child than your actual child. 

Eunha was your now 2 year old daughter. She was adored by everyone and constantly doted on. She could be a handful at times, but only because she had started to take after your bossiness and knew exactly how to appeal to Seungcheol. If she ever wanted something, all she had to do was look at them with those big boba eyes that she got from him, and he’d be folding.

He loved her more than anything. Probably even more than you, but you were okay with it. It warmed your heart how much he cared for his daughter. He’d die for her in a heartbeat without a second of hesitation. You were learning more and more every day the love a father could hold for his children. You had expected this attitude when you married him, of course. Because you knew him and you knew how caring he was. He was so filled with love for people and the world, and you were so lucky to have him.

Starting a family had always been a dream for both of you, and Eunha’s birth had been your biggest blessing. It was challenging to take care of a toddler, but you and Cheol always did your best.

Eunha was happily playing with her toy dolls after eating breakfast— the entire living room spread with her mess. It was always a constant of cleaning her toys in the evening just for her to make a new mess the next day, but you didn’t mind. It was worth it to see her so happy, and though it could be stressful to have a messy space sometimes, her happy giggles made up for it.

“Were you playing dolls with her without me as well?” Cheol asked, the pout he was wearing somehow finding its way into his tone. You giggled and he squeezed you tighter out of jealousy. He didn’t want to admit that he missed your attention being only on him, but it was true. 

You were getting up earlier to feed Eunha and play with her in the morning. The sleepy morning cuddles that Cheol looked forward to every time he fell asleep next to you were becoming rarer and rarer and he felt bitter about the change. It just wasn’t the same with Eunha. It wasn’t worse, it was definitely better in most aspects, but the free time that he had enjoyed before was being sucked away by the little child.

“She wanted me to be the doctor.” You told him, explaining the dynamics of Eunha’s favourite game. She would be the mother to her little baby doll, and either Cheol or you would usually be the doctor.

“The bed was so cold without you…” He murmured, pushing his cheek against your neck. His skin was warm against yours and you leaned into him more, savouring the feeling.

“I’m sorry. You know that Eunha likes to get up early…” You whispered.

“She should’ve woken me up instead of you. Aren’t you tired?” 

“A bit. Eating breakfast with her was nice, though. She insisted on having strawberries with her yogurt since she had seen me eat it like that once.” You smiled. Seungcheol pouted.

“I thought I was her favourite…” He was mostly joking, of course, but slightly hurt. He had always been susceptible to jealousy. Maybe he was a little too greedy— he loved watching you and Eunha spend time together, but he also hated being left out.

Your little moment of warm embrace was interrupted after 2 minutes, a giggly Eunha running up and clinging to her father’s leg. She babbled something about her doll and wanting to get ice cream later today, which you were sure Seungcheol would indulge her in. He spoiled her too much.

You were happy to see your husband’s pout lift up into the sweetest of grins. He picked up Eunha, holding her so that she was resting on his hip. He kept one arm around you; almost if you would run away and leave him if he didn’t. Which was probably partially true since you hadn’t cleaned up from breakfast yet.

“Give daddy a kiss?” Cheol asked Eunha, giggles ensuing amongst both of them. She leaned forward and kissed his cheek cutely and you smiled. Now that Seungcheol was awake as well, the two would be inseparable for the rest of the day— especially since Cheol didn’t have any work to get to.

The morning happily proceeded with a small second breakfast and playtime. Now that your husband was being included in every activity, he was all smiles and giggles. He liked being the centre of attention; you had discovered that fact throughout the years. He was the happiest man in the world when he knew he was making his daughter happy.

Her happiness always came first, even when it relied on Seungcheol’s hair being tied up in pigtails with little cherry-coloured bows because Eunha wanted to play hairdresser. You were almost envious of how cute he looked in them. It was impossible not to love everything that Cheol did.

Along with the bows came matching sweaters with a cherry pattern for father and daughter. One look at the two and you could easily declare them the two cutest human beings in the entire world.

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