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chheolie · 3 months ago

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[🌾] 002. scary tree- favorite enemy series

suggestive, sexual tension, physical proximity, repressed desire

masterlist

you were standing with your arms crossed, looking out the window of the apartment living room. it was raining, and mingyu didn’t want you to drive home because, according to him, you weren’t a good driver.

“it’s not going to stop raining just because you want it to, y/n,” he said, amused, sitting on the couch.

you rolled your eyes at him. “well, then i’m going to take a shower and go to bed,” you said. “can i borrow some clothes?”

“grab anything you like,” he replied, unconcerned.

“anything?” you said excitedly, immediately running to his room.

“hey, wait,” he realized and got up to chase after you.

when he reached the room, you were already holding his favorite dior sweater. “anything but that, y/n!”

he tried to take it back, but you dodged him and ran into the bathroom.

“please, you know that one’s my favorite,” he pleaded, knocking on the bathroom door dramatically.

“i like it too, let me try it on,” you shouted from the other side of the door.

mingyu sighed, knowing you wouldn’t give in. “just don’t damage any of the threads.”

while you enjoyed your relaxing shower, mingyu prepared the bedding on the couch for you to sleep. when you came out of the bathroom, he was in the bedroom grabbing a pillow.

he was a bit dizzy and surprised to see you with your damp hair falling softly over your shoulders and your skin clean, without makeup, making you look even more radiant. the sweater he had “lent” you was oversized, covering half of your thighs. mingyu had seen you in many ways: messy, well-dressed, formal, but this time, you looked different.

he noticed you were wearing his perfume too, which left him even more disoriented. mingyu cleared his throat, afraid his voice might fail him if he said anything. he turned to the closet, pretending to be indifferent.

“i see it fits you,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant.

you smiled. “yeah… it fits and it’s warm,” you replied, sitting on the bed.

“i know, it’s mine…” he rolled his eyes, and you laughed, amused.

mingyu went to take a shower while you settled under the blankets, playing on your phone. when he came out of the bathroom, he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

with a towel in hand, drying his hair, he looked at you, frozen. “what are you doing there?” he asked.

“i’m lying down,” you answered, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“i can see that,” he retorted. “but the bedding is in the living room.”

“good night, then,” you forced a smile at him, leaving your phone on the bedside table and getting comfortable to sleep.

“you’re not getting out of there?” he crossed his arms. you shook your head.

“is this serious? you think you’re going to put me on the couch while you stay in the bed? that’s bold, even for you.”

“why not? it’s perfect logic. you’re the owner of the house, so who better to stay on the couch than the owner?” you countered, trying to keep a straight face.

he shook his head, laughing. “that’s not how it works. i’m the owner, and you’re the guest. you get the couch, and i sleep in the bed.”

“but i don’t want to stay in the living room. besides, it’s my right as a guest to have the bed!” you insisted, giving him a teasing look.

mingyu crossed his arms, clearly amused by the argument. “look, that’s not how things work. i’m not letting you have the bed while i take an uncomfortable couch. if someone’s going to sleep on the couch, it’s going to be you.”

“and what if i make a complaint to your mom?” you joked, knowing it would amuse him even more.

he laughed, but the determination was still in his eyes. “you wouldn’t do that. and even if you tried, i’d still take the bed. it’s my house, and you’ll have to listen to me.”

you exchanged defiant looks for a few moments until you decided to play your last card. “okay, then, if i sleep on the couch, you’ll have to wake up early and make breakfast for me.”

mingyu laughed, clearly impressed with your audacity. “you’re impossible, you know that? but fine, you win this time. enjoy the bed.”

“great!” you exclaimed, turning your back to him. “good luck with the couch, mingyu. i hope it’s comfortable!”

while mingyu tried to sleep on the couch, the comforting silence of the house was interrupted only by the sound of the rain. suddenly, he felt something soft and warm next to him. when he opened his eyes, he saw you lying beside him, snuggling up.

it turns out that when mingyu turned off the light in the bedroom and left, you remembered that you hate sleeping in his room. and the blame was on that darn tree across the street that cast a scary shadow on the window, especially when the wind blew.

you tried to sleep there, tried to cover your head. but the sound of the thunder outside wasn’t helping at all.

mingyu widened his eyes, confused and a bit dazed by the sudden closeness. “what are you doing here?” he asked, his voice faltering a little.

in a soft tone, you replied, “i couldn’t sleep.”

mingyu tried to keep the conversation going but was struggling to stay awake. “you… know you should… be in the bed, right? it’s more comfortable.”

you just murmured a “hmm” of agreement, while throwing your leg over him, relaxed. “go to sleep, mingyu,” you said, but your voice had a sleepy quality that betrayed your lack of focus. and of course, you wouldn’t admit you were terrified of that tree.

mingyu was aware of the warmth your presence radiated. you lay on his arm, the scent of your hair mixing with the perfume he’d noticed earlier, creating an enveloping and almost intoxicating sensation. the close contact was making him feel increasingly relaxed, and his resistance was quickly waning.

he continued to mumble incoherent things, trying to keep the conversation going, but the feeling of you being so close was making it hard for him to focus. “you really shouldn’t… be here,” he tried to say, but it was more of an observation than a real objection.

you just snuggled closer to him, the smell of your hair invading his senses and making him feel almost drunk with exhaustion and comfort. the warmth of your body and the way you fit so perfectly beside him ended up winning his internal struggle. mingyu let out a deep sigh, closing his eyes and finally giving in to sleep.

mingyu woke up occasionally during the night, his sleep interrupted by your restless movements beside him. every time he opened his eyes, the soft moonlight illuminated your face. you were lying there with a relaxed expression, but you kept shifting from side to side, as if you were dreaming about something intense.

every time you moved, the closeness between you seemed to increase. mingyu could feel your soft breath against his skin, and with each of your movements, his heart raced a little more. he didn’t know whether to laugh or despair, as it was a delicious torture that left him completely confused.

“why can’t you stay still?” he muttered to himself, trying to focus on anything other than your presence. each of your movements was like a call, and he felt an irresistible urge to pull you closer, but he fought against it.

eventually, during one of the moments he woke up, you were almost at the edge of the couch, your arms stretched out as you searched for a comfortable position. mingyu quickly turned to pull you back, his hand gently holding your waist as if afraid you might fall. the touch made his heart race, and he immediately cursed himself for not being able to resist.

“please,” he whispered, but his tone was more amused than annoyed. “could you stop moving? i’m trying to sleep here.”

you just mumbled something incoherent in response, still deep in sleep, and mingyu couldn't help but smile. he watched the way your hair fell across your face and how you snuggled a little closer to him, seeming more at ease.

but then, before he could relax again, you turned once more, almost throwing yourself over him, causing a wave of warmth to surge through his body. it was almost unbearable, and he had to stifle an involuntary groan. every move you made seemed to test him more and more, challenging his restraint.

"you're messing with me," he said in a half-playful, half-serious tone, closing his eyes and trying to ignore the growing warmth in his face. "just a little more, and i might end up doing something stupid."

with that, mingyu finally decided he needed some air. he quietly got up and went to the kitchen to drink a glass of water, trying to push away the images his mind kept creating. he leaned against the sink, taking deep breaths and wondering how the situation had escalated so much.

you felt him get up, and when you looked at the window, your heart froze again. at first, you thought he might have gone to the bedroom, but then you saw the kitchen light on.

mingyu was standing in the kitchen, a glass of water in hand, trying to calm his racing heart when he heard your sleepy and irritated voice coming from the sofa.

"hey, you woke me up," you complained, rubbing your eyes as you got up. the expression on your face was a mix of confusion and sleepiness, and he couldn't help but smile at the scene, finding it ironic since you hadn't even let him sleep.

before he could respond, you had already grabbed his wrist, pulling him back to the sofa. mingyu, still holding the glass, hesitated. "hey, wait! i'm still drinking!" he said, trying to balance the water as you dragged him back.

"forget that, let's sleep," you mumbled, clearly more focused on snuggling up again than paying attention to what you were doing. he found himself being guided back to the sofa, and as soon as you let go, he realized how close you were.

an involuntary laugh escaped his lips as you threw yourself back onto the sofa, settling in as if trying to fall back asleep immediately. the glass of water wobbled dangerously in his hand, and he wondered if he should just set it aside.

"you're so sleepy you don't even know what you're doing to me," mingyu commented, but his voice was low, as if afraid to wake you again.

"it doesn't matter," you replied, eyes still half-closed. "just go back to sleep."

he hesitated for a moment, but then decided to sit beside you, placing the glass on the nearby table. the sofa was small, and the closeness made his heart race again. you snuggled closer to him, as if seeking warmth, and he was left speechless, unsure whether to pull away or enjoy the moment.

"you can't just drag me like that and expect me to do nothing," he said, trying to keep the playful tone, but there was a hint of vulnerability in his voice. you just smiled at him, closing your eyes as you nestled more into his side.

"do what you want, mingyu," you said, and mingyu felt his heart race. but he shook his head to clear his thoughts.

mingyu remained silent for a moment, surprised by the carefree response you gave. he wondered if you were really aware of what you had said or if it was just the sleep talking for you.

"do what i want, huh?" he repeated quietly, as if considering the idea.

he sighed, knowing he was about to get himself into trouble if he kept thinking along those lines. "you really have no idea what you're asking of me, do you?" mingyu murmured to himself, but even so, he couldn't resist the urge to wrap his arm around you, pulling you closer.

the warmth of your body, the way you snuggled into him, everything felt so natural and comforting. mingyu closed his eyes, trying to ignore the confusing feelings that were surfacing. it was supposed to be just a rainy and uncomfortable night, but somehow, it had turned into something more.

"goodnight, y/n," he whispered, more to himself than to you, as he closed his eyes, finally accepting the comfort of your presence.

the night passed slowly, with the two of you asleep on the sofa, mingyu holding you in his arms, not wanting to let you go. when the sun began to rise, the first rays of light entered through the window, softly illuminating the room.

you woke up first, feeling the warm and cozy morning sun streaming in through the windows. determined to do something useful, you got up quietly so as not to wake mingyu, who was sleeping deeply. you carefully prepared breakfast, setting the table perfectly. when mingyu finally woke up and walked into the kitchen, his hair still messy, he stopped in surprise at the sight of the set table.

"i didn't know you were such an early bird," he commented with a smile as he approached the table.

you shot him a sidelong glance before letting out a sigh. "someone had to get up, since you couldn't settle down all night."

mingyu raised his eyebrows, clearly indignant. "me? you're the one who couldn't settle down! being on the sofa next to me like that… how did you expect me to sleep?"

you blushed slightly but kept your tone teasing. "oh, sure, it's my fault for being comfortable on the sofa. maybe you should learn to handle that better."

mingyu laughed, but there was a note of challenge in his eyes. "it's hard to handle when you're practically testing me all night."

"testing, huh?" you replied, pouring coffee for him.

"well, if you think you couldn't sleep because of me, imagine how i felt with you moving around all the time."

mingyu took a sip of coffee, laughing. "i didn't move that much. at least, i tried not to bother you."

"oh, tried not to bother me? you were the one who pulled me closer several times!" you retorted playfully.

"hey, i didn't have a choice. you were practically throwing yourself off the sofa with your movements!" mingyu responded, raising an eyebrow. "you think i had another option? should i have let you fall?"

you stared at him, one eyebrow raised. "maybe. or maybe you just need to learn to control yourself better."

mingyu took another sip of coffee, eyeing you with bright eyes. "or maybe you need to stop testing others so much."

you laughed, shaking your head. "seems like someone is having a hard time admitting they can't handle simple company on the sofa."

he leaned a little closer to you, a challenging expression on his face. "i'm just saying you make everything more complicated than it should be."

you crossed your arms, leaning slightly in response. "and i'm just saying that sounds more like your problem than mine."

mingyu laughed, shaking his head. after all, you two were always like this—childhood enemies who could never agree.

taglist: @tacosandbitch

#seventeen fanfic #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #svt #mingyu x reader #mingyu fanfic #kim mingyu #mingyu seventeen #mingyu x y/n #mingyu x you #svt x reader #svt x you

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court-jobi · 29 days ago

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Alexa, Play...

((banner by me! I don't own Horikoshi's work OR the mindblowing art of @gsony24~used w permission))

Pairing: Midoriya x reader

Words: 1.6k

Rating: G~

Warnings: Southern US!GNreader, comfort fic, tooth-rotting fluff here y'all, established relationship, language barrier, dancing-in-the-kitchen level self-insert

Summary:

Izuku comes home to spot your grocery list on the fridge written out in your native language- something he sees just as rarely as hearing you speak it. Just when he thinks he couldn't possibly find you more adorable, you strike a match and chuck it into his heart with a touch as simple as a peck on his cheek, a laugh thrown his way... or -like now- when you chat over the phone in an accent he never gets to hear. He wants to hear more so badly, and asks for it so sweetly.

A/N: a short n'sweet one today, folks, bc I was missing writing for this sweet green bean. I have yet to see MHA: You're Next, but have no one to see it with ughhhhh so off to writing fanfic to soothe the pain~

For my My Hero Academia Masterlist, check it out here!

Read on Ao3

You're on the phone with your mom when Izuku finds your sticky note for shopping on the fridge. His mindful shut of the door was appreciated by your mouthed apology, but let him know that he'd best occupy himself solo for a bit while you catch up. The time difference between your home country and here leaves your windows to chat limited, so he’s happy when your schedules align like this.

If you'll be on a while longer, he thinks he can take a quick drive and pick up these few things for you. Inspired by the idea, he plucks the list out from the magnet’s hold.

You've got nice handwriting, a blend between printed letters and a tilted, cursive script. Personality shines especially near the end of a word, when you're rushing to move onto the next thought.

Painter’s tape

bananas

white vinegar (stupid drain line)

It's so simple, but when it's written in your native language by default, it feels like a secret to be reading even something so simple as a list like this– scribbled out in the way as it appears in your head.

For most formal paperwork, your kana characters are decently executed, though it's always going to be harder when you grew up speaking Japanese rather than filling out lines and lines of bellwork in the kanji style. This isn't to say you've not been trying:

Over the course of your courtship, you've bonded with young Eri as an extension of Izuku's life and have inherited some of her early learning textbooks. You happened on them by accident, when you were helping her paint her room a few months ago. It sounded elementary when you expressed the interest to read and write Japanese better, and the sweet girl was so enthusiastic to help!

She lent you her books, but of course you weren't becoming an expert overnight. However slow you’d pace yourself, Izuku was plenty proud of you for making the effort. He'd allow you as much grace as he could spare– especially since your notes were still so cute to find here and there~

Across the room, pacing along every other tile on the floor like stepping stones, you look up catching Izuku staring. You’ve been deep in conversation for only about an hour, but give him a wrench of your nose in jest, and begin wrapping up the call explaining that he’s home and you’d like to greet him properly.

Izuku calls out a quick 'hi’ and ‘bye' to your mom when he motions to go on speaker; you're not one to refuse him, as he well knows.

You seem pleased on more than one front when he asks to talk to your family, so he continues to do it. For one, you’re touched by how spirited he is to even want to interact with your mother, and his dropping of formalities and reverting to English to speak to her means a lot to you. Neither point is lost on sweet Izuku, based on how your smile brightens when he jogs over to you to be more in speaking range.

When you hang up, you're quick to pop up and kiss him as a welcome home. Izuku hangs onto you a little longer than usual, thumb rubbing into your cheek as he savors you several times in quick succession.

Just when he thinks he couldn't possibly find you more adorable, you strike a match and chuck it into his heart with a touch as simple as a peck on his cheek or a laugh thrown his way.

“‘Zuku, what's that look for, babe?”

In your sentimental bliss, you're still surprised to get such adoring treatment from him almost a year into a relationship.

“Nothing,” Izuku chimes back, “I just forget that you're this American sometimes~”

“Whaddya mean, ‘you forget’?!” the concept sounds hilarious to you.

“I do!” Izuku offers to take your phone to plug it in nearby, “I have to remind myself that Japanese isn't your first language, until I see you on FaceTime with your mom. Out of nowhere, I'll just hear you sound so different, like: ‘byyyye~ talk to y'all later’!”

You snort at his attempt at a southern accent– stiff and stuck on the wrong vowels. Clearly this succeeds in amusing you, because you hop up and down on the balls of your feet like you've discovered a new game:

“Oh my God, ‘Texas Smash Deku’ is the stuff of my fantasies!– oo!! say, ‘I’d like a honey butter chicken biscuit’~”

“WHAT?? N-no!!”

“What YES!! Please??”

Both doubled over in laughter, you're entertained over his thorough embarrassment, but you're both smitten and carefree: holding onto each other despite nearly buckling at the knees.

Izuku tries his best to catch his breathe first, determined to explain himself,

“I can't do it right! It's like- you say things- I don't know how to describe it! It's not just the flat, movie star accent.. It's–"

“What, a-- ‘drawl’? ‘Twang’?”

Izuku snaps at the realization.

“Yes!! That!! The country kind, like that chef you watch!”

You've rolled your eyes, stepping out of his kind hold in favor of checking out what takeout he brought home.

“-Hey, no, come back!”

“‘Makin’ fun'ah my accent, I outta smack you’.”

You're far from really mad as you tote around the kitchen getting silverware and soy sauce, but Izuku follows you around like a shadow regardless. Eyes full of that puppy love, he does try to block you in from the pantry closet,

“I’m sorry, honey~”

“No you're not.” --but you're grinning out of forgiveness anyway.

Izuku sneaks a hold on you, reeling you in. It’s cozy in your shared kitchen, alight with just the right amount of overhead lighting and enough space for you two to stand and share tasks.

“I do like hearing you talk like that,” he shares contentedly, “It’s nice to listen to that side of you, especially when you have a lot to say.”

“Yeah well,” you turn into his arms, rather than away, “I'm sure you've noticed already, it comes from her side of the family. Guess I can't really ditch the accent whenever I switch back. The more I think about it… I'm gonna be happy if I can keep sounding like her as I get older. Lets me keep something of hers- even if my ‘dashing hero’ of a man over here thinks I'm being cheeky."

“No, I'm not teasing now! I mean it,” Izuku presses into you, “I only meant, you don't hold back or anything when you're chatty with her.”

He wonders if it stems from shyness, your avoidance of using too much English here at home. If you’re jamming out while doing chores -presuming you’re alone- you’ll switch the station once you know you have an audience.

“Not trying to hide it with you! I'm just out of practice here. No one else in our circle really uses English, so it doesn't come up, I guess.”

You make the point with a wistful aire. Occasionally you'll sub English classes as a favor to Izuku’s effervescent coworker at UA, but not often enough to get too much exposure. He's always been impressed with your Japanese diction, and thinks you could very well go into teaching if you ever wanted a career change.

Still, whether its for work or play, it’s a sound that’s intrinsically you, and there’s a magic to it that Izuku finds himself chasing. A secret power of yours, if he could only unlock it.

“--Plus, I don't think a lot of the slang translates over?” you get comfortable in his arms, locking your fingers behind his neck with no intention of leaving as you muse, “You guys have your own here, and that’s hard to figure out anyway.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

Tenderly, you run your nails through his hair, a thoughtful look up to him,

“Do you want me to use it more at home? Lay on the sugar for ya?”

A chance to hear you at your core? Watch your handwritten notes come alive?

“If you want-” Izuku softens, “-if you’re comfortable.”

“Can you understand me though?”

“I can hear you. It only gets hard when you get excited, ‘cuz you talk fast.”

You fuss back at him, “Oh, as if you don't.”

Caught under your hypocritical eye, he can only offer an honest chuckle back, “Fair~”

But for all of your feeling put on the spotlight, you seem to hold a soft spot for the way Izuku makes his requests:

“ ‘I guess I can indulge ya, since you asked so nicely.’ ”

–and it’s enough for him to try his hand to give you a linguistic sparring partner right back:

“ ‘Say something else.’ ”

All English flies out the window when he's looking at you like this, as you fall under a fit of nervous laughter, “What am I supposed to say?!”

“ ‘Sing me a song, my love. Something 'twangy'.”

You giggled, "'Twangy', good Lord…”

Izuku could write novels on everything from your finest features to even your most pensive insecurities, romanticizing each of them into a beautifully imperfect anthology. He does so in his mind, at least, when you’re barely lucid on the edge of sleep but still trying to engage him in meaningful conversation. He’ll do so in the notes on his phone, when he learns of yet another favorite token of yours, and wants to add it to the list of comfort measures he can refer to when you need it most.

And when you prompt Alexa to play your newly revealed ‘Karaoke hours that will never see the light of day’ playlist -the one that’s chock-full of female power ballads which you begin to sing your own rendition to- Izuku is certain his mind nor fingers nor heart can catalog how much more he can possibly love you… though he’ll dance in place with you as he listens and soaks it all in.

#izuku midoriya #izuku x reader #midoriya x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #mha fanfiction #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha #bnha #mha x reader #bnha x reader #izuku fluff #deku fluff #deku x reader

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literaryvein-reblogs · 7 days ago

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Writing Reference: Colour Vitamins

11 key ‘colour vitamins’ related to a range of positive (+) and negative (–) attributes.

RED

+ up-beat, confident, assertive, exciting – aggressive, domineering, bossy, threatening

PINK

+ feminine, gentle, accessible, non-threatening – pathetic, unimportant, safe, under-confident

BLUE

+ peaceful, trustworthy, constant, orderly – ‘holier than thou’, tiresome, predictable, conservative

BROWN

+ earthy, homely, gregarious – safe, boring, unsophisticated

YELLOW

+ cheerful, hopeful, active, uninhibited – impulsive, tiresome, whirlwind, volatile

GREEN

+ self-reliant, tenacious, nurturing, dependable – boring, stubborn, riskaverse, predictable

ORANGE

+ vital, funny, enthusiastic, sociable, uninhibited – superficial, common, faddist, giddy

VIOLET

+ imaginative, sensitive, intuitive, unusual, unselfish – weird, impractical, immature, superior

GREY

+ respectable, neutral, balanced – non-committal, deceptive, uncertain, safe

BLACK

+ formal, sophisticated, mysterious, strong – mournful, aloof, negative, lifeless

WHITE

+ pure, clean, fresh, futuristic – clinical, ‘colourless’, cold, neutral

The symbolic or psychological associations of colours have a long history.

In the 12th century, a colour sequence for the liturgical year in the Roman Catholic Church was outlined by Pope Innocent III, and continues to be used today. Examples:

Red vestments are used at Pentecost or for the feasts of martyrs, the colour representing tongues of fire and the shedding of blood;

black vestments are the colour of mourning;

violet vestments represent the mitigation of black, in Advent and Lent; and

green is the ‘neutral’ colour, used ‘in ordinary time’, when there is no special period or feast-day being celebrated.

These and certain other colours (notably white, blue, gold, and rose) are also often used symbolically in many medieval religious paintings.

In modern times:

The psychological associations of colours, and thus the connotations of colour vocabulary, continue to be exploited in a wide range of contexts, such as in the description of paint shades, advertising language, and techniques of self-imaging.

The Color Me Beautiful system is a good example within the last category.

This consultancy was founded by Carole Jackson in the USA in 1974, and now has branches in many parts of the world. Its aim is to help women discover their natural beauty through colour, using the metaphor of the four seasons.

In much the same way as each season presents a distinct array of colours, a person’s colouring is said to be in harmony with one of these palettes, and advice is given about how to enhance these natural colours, and about how to choose additional colours (of make-up and clothing) (M. Spillane, 1991).

Source ⚜ More: On Colours ⚜ Colour Symbolisms ⚜ "Magical Uses" of Colours Writing Notes & References ⚜ On Symbolism

#writing reference #writeblr #dark academia #colour #writers on tumblr #writing prompt #spilled ink #writing ideas #writing inspiration #poets on tumblr #poetry #literature #creative writing #fiction #fantasy #symbolism #winslow homer #writing resources

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marinawolf · 9 months ago

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A Super and a Luthor? (Supercorp) by marinawolf

James likes Lena but his efforts are constantly ignored, because while he’s focused on Lena, Lena seems to be a little too infatuated with a certain blonde superhero. (Warning: James Olsen but it’s fun, I promise).

(Note: was struck with this idea and decided to roll with it. Supercorp from the POV of a jealous James Olsen.)

Seated at his desk, James Olsen couldn't help but steal glances across the bustling office towards Lena's glass-walled haven.

Man, she is fucking gorgeous. Her green eyes were focused on the screen in front of her, and a frown graced her flawless face. James let his eyes wander. The dress she wore left little to the imagination, accentuating her curves and showing only the slightest but most alluring hint of cleavage.

James couldn’t help but think that Lena was just a little intimidating, but despite the formidable exterior, he was sure that there was a softer side to Lena, a vulnerability reserved for the right person. And he was determined to be that person. She was technically his boss, yes, but that wouldn’t mean anything if they were to enter into a relationship. James knew that he was accomplished and well respected in his own right. Hell, he even had a temporary taste of the power Lena now held when he had run Catco before Lena took over. He knew he could be someone she viewed as an equal. In his mind, they were destined to be a power couple.

They shared countless moments together – at the office, during Kara's game nights at her apartment, and at the DEO, where they lent their aid to Kara's Supergirl duties. James couldn't escape the feeling that they had been skirting around something for far too long. Each smile Lena cast his way, every high-five exchanged during game nights, or every discussion about the latest threats faced together at the DEO stirred a desire within him, a longing to bridge the gap between friendship and something more.

James couldn't help but wonder if Lena was impressed by his daring feats as Guardian. The DEO and Kara’s efforts to shut down his Guardian alter ego left him angry and frustrated, but he held onto the belief that Lena had at least witnessed a glimpse of his courage.

James decided it was time to take action. Standing up with a practiced nonchalance, he smoothed his shirt and made his way to Lena's office. His knock was a mere formality before he entered.

Lena's gaze briefly lifted from her work. "James," she greeted, her focus quickly returning to the computer. "What can I do for you?"

Stunned by her nonchalance, James hesitated before suggesting, "Would you like to grab some lunch? You've been working all day. I know a great place just a few blocks away." He offered a warm smile, aiming to break the professional facade.

Lena, finally meeting his gaze, sighed slightly. "I'm waiting on a conference call. Maybe another time?"

Her response, accompanied by a swift return to work, left James standing there, more deflated than rejected.

Disappointment washed over him as he quietly retreated from Lena's office, puzzled by her apparent indifference. The unanswered question echoed in his mind: Was she truly disinterested, or was this a strategic guise to conceal hidden feelings? Seething with a mix of frustration and confusion, James sat down at his desk and resumed his watch over Lena.

James watched with surprise and fascination as Kara nonchalantly breezed into Lena's office without even knocking, cups of coffee and a takeout bag in hand. Anticipating Lena's usual inclination for privacy and the demands of her busy schedule, he expected a certain level of disapproval and a quick dismissal. However, what unfolded before him was surprising.

As Kara entered, Lena's eyes immediately lifted from her work, and to James's sheer amazement, she graced Kara with the most radiant smile he had ever witnessed. It was as if for Lena, the entirety of the outside world seemed to dissolve into insignificance, leaving only Kara as the singular focal point of her attention. The change in Lena's countenance was noticeable, as if everything else faded away in comparison to the presence of her friend. Kara settled gracefully into a chair, presenting Lena with a cup of coffee that was accepted appreciatively. As Kara unpacked the takeout, James watched as Lena relaxed into the moment, dropping her tough exterior and settling into a lunch hour that that Lena had, surprisingly, told him she was too busy to indulge in.

The disparity struck him with a perplexing realization. Why had Lena lied to him?

___

Later, in the conference room, James snagged the seat next to Lena’s, hoping to catch her attention during what he anticipated would be a very boring presentation about the yearly projections for the company.

James turned to Lena, expecting her to be focused on the presentation, but to his surprise, Lena's eyes were not fixed on the slides but rather on Kara, who sat opposite her, absentmindedly doodling on a pad. A subtle, almost imperceptible hunger seemed to flicker in Lena's eyes as she watched the blonde. He recognised that kind of look. He was sure that he looked at Lena the same way.

Wait. No. It couldn’t be- could it? Could Lena be into Kara?

Definitely not, he reassured himself. It seemed implausible, even stranger than a Super and a Luthor being friends. The idea of a Super and a Luthor sharing something more felt far-fetched, and he reassured himself that both Lena and Kara were unequivocally straight. Reminding himself of Kara's past crush on him, James dismissed the possibility of a romantic connection between the two women But then Kara’s gaze flicked to Lena’s and they shared a soft smile, and strangely enough, it felt like James was intruding on something private.

Suddenly, he wasn’t so sure anymore. He was determined to find out, and he was determined to claim Lena as his own. After all, James and Lena would make sense as a couple.

—

Weeks later, James watched Lena’s anguish as Kara was wheeled in to the DEO on a stretcher, having been exposed to nearly lethal amounts of Kryptonite. There was an intensity in Lena's reaction that struck him – it was as if she shared Kara's pain, as if any harm to Kara was a direct blow to her. Yet, James rationalized Lena's anguish as a product of guilt – after all, the culprit was none other than her own brother, Lex Luthor.

They gathered around Kara's bedside as she lay beneath the sun lamps, and James could see tears streaming down Lena's face. In a gesture of comfort, he put an arm around her, pulling her into him. Just as his arm tightened around Lena’s shoulders, Kara's eyes fluttered open, immediately seeking out Lena in the room. Kara whispered Lena's name, and in a visible wave of relief, Lena rushed to Kara, embracing her in a tight hug. Witnessing Kara reciprocate the embrace, even in her weakened state, stirred an unexpected twinge of jealousy in James.

—-

When Lex resurfaced, it was with the distressing news that he had abducted Lena, prompting James to rush to the DEO with an urgent determination to save her. He wanted to be her hero. He immediately sought out Alex to convince her to let him use his guardian suit, but found Alex and Kara locked in a tense argument.

“You can’t go there alone, Kara. You know it’s a trap. You know it’s you he wants to hurt. And he’ll use this to get you.”

"I don’t care. I won't be able to live if anything happens to Lena, Alex," Kara declared with desperation. She left before Alex could protest further.

Time passed, and James paced the DEO uselessly, resenting the fact that he wasn’t allowed to go out there. Shouldn’t he be given a chance to be the hero too?

Finally, Kara returned, her body showing signs wounds inflicted by Kryptonite weapons. But all James could focus on was the unconscious form of Lena in her arms.

James could barely spend time near Lena, as Kara steadfastly refused to leave Lena's bedside. Despite her own injuries, Kara sat there, refusing to move. He stood silently, and he knew that Kara had forgotten that he was even there- because he could have sworn that he heard her whisper “I love you” to Lena.

His silent watch continued as Lena eventually woke up, reaching for Kara's hands with an immediacy that spoke volumes. James, attempting to break the charged atmosphere, cleared his throat and approached Lena with a smile, hoping to place himself in her orbit.

"I was so worried, Lena," he expressed, but despite his genuine concern, he found himself unable to divert Lena's gaze from Kara. He felt like an outsider, looking in on something he so desperately wished was his.

—-

When James entered the bullpen after hours, in a last ditch effort to ask Lena out once more, he almost wasn’t surprised that Kara was already in Lena’s office. What did surprise him though, was the fact that Kara and Lena stood across the room from each other, glaring at each other. Unnoticed by the two women, he halted his approaching footsteps and silently observed.

Lena's eyes held a challenging glint as she stared at Kara, and Kara, in turn, met her gaze with equal intensity. James wondered if a heated argument had erupted, if the longstanding enmity between their families had finally overshadowed their friendship. Perhaps, he thought, it might be for the best if they parted ways.

He saw Kara walk towards Lena and prepared for the finality of the moment, already imagining being the one to offer Lena a shoulder to cry on.

But his heart shattered into fragments when instead of arguing, Kara pressed her lips against Lena's, her arms wrapping around Lena's waist. And his last remnants of hope crumbled away as Lena willingly melted into the kiss, fingers tangling in Kara's hair, kissing Kara back as if Kara held her breath captive. Their desperate kiss seemed to carry the weight of a lifetime of longing, as if they had been starved for this moment.

The intensity of their kiss left James feeling like an unintentional voyeur, prompting him to avert his gaze, unable to watch any longer. The realization of his own folly weighed heavily on him – he was a fool holding on to something that was never meant to be.

So that was it, then. A Super and a Luthor. Against all odds.

James realised that he never stood a chance.

#supercorp #lena luthor #kara danvers #supercorp fanfic #supergirl #kara x lena #kara zor el #kara danvers x lena luthor #fanfic #supergirl fanfiction #cw supergirl #supercorp endgame #supercorp fic #lena x kara #lena and kara #supergirl cw #james olsen #kara zor el x lena luthor

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hidden-poet · 3 months ago

Text

The Nurse

1/1

summary: Coriolanus never forgets about the nurse who treated his snakebite, and he is determined to not let her forget him.

Warnings: unrequited love, graphic wounds, stalking, coryo being de lu lu, non-con, pretty tame for me to be honest.

Word Count: 12, 250

Thank you all for you patience and kind words!

Coriolanus was sure he was going to die. He could feel the poison traveling up his arm, and through the rest of his body.

He never should have trusted Lucy-gray. Love made him stupid.

Now just as he was getting his life back, it was being slowly sucked from his body.

Betrayed by someone that owed him her life. She would have died in the Hunger games if not for him. He sacrificed everything for her, but it wasn’t enough. She wanted his final breath.

She couldn’t have it. Not now that everything he had fought his whole life for was within his reach. His fathers compass agrees. It points him in the direction of help.

Through blurry eyes, he could see the gates of the compound. There they could fix him and send him onward to officer training. There he could live up to his name.

Coriolanus struggles to put one foot in front of the other. His body felt like it was on fire. Sweat poured from him, the snake's poison, and his long journey back in the sun teamed up to exhaust him.

The ringing ears indicated that Coriolanus was done. He could no longer place where he was. Was the gate in front of him, or has he spun in a completely different direction?

The weight of the compass falls from his hands, unable to help him. The world felt as if it was spinning him around. His vision was blurry and limited to two feet in front of him.

“Sir, are you alright?”, a low yell was heard over his ringing ears.

He swiped his hand to see if he could touch them, but it shoosh’s through the air. It used all the energy he had left. No longer with the energy to stand, he crumbles to his knees.He feels the hard rocks dig into him, so he knew he was on the path to the compound.

After everything, this is how he dies. He regrets trying to make it back. It would have been better if his body was lost in the woods. Less humiliating than being found trying to crawl back like a coward.

“You’re okay”, the sweet voice spoke, closer.

He looks to see eyes staring at him. In a panic, he pushes away from them, certain it was Lucy-Gray coming to finish the job. The action pushes the side of his body into the road's gravel, scraping his skin, and leaving smaller rocks wedged in his side.

“I want to help. I just want to help. It’s okay”, the voice spoke. Not Lucy-Gray. Not a threat.

He could feel his body being hoisted up. You tucked your small shoulders under his arm, and wrapped your arm around his waist.

“You’re going to be okay”, you spoke again.

He tried to assist you in walking him forward. All his weight was lent on you, but you were determined not to drop him.

You yell for the guarding peacekeepers to come help, as they shuffle forward.

He stumbles, nearly taking you to the ground with him, but you are quick to steady the weight again. You move forward again, slower this time to allow for Coriolanus to balance himself without his senses.

You scream a name that he recognised from training, but couldn’t place a face to.

It was lucky that you was friendlier than he was. The gate swung wide at the name. No formal checks of identity that should have been done according to protocol were made.

Your name was called back, but Coriolanus screamed in pain over it. His arm began to pound in agony. He tried to move it up to his chest, but his arm had lost all movement.

You ordered the men to abandon their post to take him to the medical camp. He was surprised when they did it without a fight.

The weight of him is lifted off you as he is lifted off the ground by two officers. With one carrying his legs, and one lifting him under his arms, Coriolaus is jogged to the medical tent.

It didn’t matter. It was too late. Coriolanus Snow would die in district 12 like his father. Rebels would end the great Snow line.

He could hear you as you led the men. All sight was lost, his consciousness slipping in and out as he heard curtains being drawn, and a hasty search for something.

Coriolanus is placed on a hard bed, and something tight is wrapped around his arm.

The last thing he felt was a soothing hand sweeping over his head. A kind last touch, he thought.

He woke from heat. His whole body felt as if he was in a furnace.

A cool rag was wiped over his head, and he opened his eyes enough to see you staring back. His eyesight had returned but he had to fight to keep his eyes open.

He was laying on his uninjured arm. He raises it slightly to catch your small wrist in his hand as you go to dab his sweat again. You remain calm, waiting for him to fall back asleep.

His hand drops to the bed with your wrist.His cheek presses up against your fingers, the wet rage soaks the bedding beneath. Still you leave it there until he is back asleep before you continue your work.

The next time he woke up, he was alone with a pounding headache.

His sight was back, but his arm still ached, and he could feel the sweat on his head from his temperature.

The medical facility was large, rows and rows of beds stretched out. Most were filled with men of various ailments.

Across the large space was a wall that separated the patients from the rest of the medical facility. A large glass window showed the nurses den.

Two nurses sat behind it talking. Their uniform was light blue like the peacekeepers uniform. Only the uniform was fashioned into half length sleeves which were cuffed at their elbows and a form fitting skirt. Despite efforts of the design, it was manly.

The collars seemed too large for womens neck, the pockets on each side were too big across their chests. Coriolanus realized that they were old peacekeeper uniforms repurposed for the nurses.

Coriolaus looked up to see the railings of the curtain that could be pulled for privacy but he was too weak to rise.

He layed in disbelief that he had survived. A second chance was given to him. Nothing would stand in his way now. No longer will he be swayed by his emotions. His only focus would be rising to the top. How he got there no longer mattered. He had tried hard work, and moral reasoning, and it left him dead in the forest.

Coriolanus looked down at his bite, it was covered in a white wrap, but he could see the discolouration of his skin, and feel the liquid as it oozed out of the bite.

He hoped it would leave a scar. A reminder of a hard lesson learnt.

A doctor interrupted his thoughts to check his vitals. He was an older doctor, with gray, thin hair, and wrinkled skin. But he wore no glasses, and walked tall, and straight.

“You were lucky, Mr Snow. You were found just in time. Even two minutes later, and you would have been dead”, he said, writing down on his clipboard.

Coriolanus huffs. After everything he was owed a bit of luck.

He remembers the girl who found him. Her soft touch, and beautiful eyes. The same women who had attended to him with the cool rag.

“Who found me?”, he asks the doctor.

“One of the nurses here. Very lucky indeed, Mr Snow. One of my favorite nurses, Nurse Y/n. She took good care of you. You owe her your life”.

It felt as if he had been bitten again. He didn’t want to owe anybody anything.

“I would like to thank her”.

He remembers how you struggled to keep his weight up right. You could have left him. Had him be someone else's problem, but you didn’t. You were still learning that goodness would not come back to you.

“You’ll get your chance. She’s on night shift tonight”.

He felt eager to see you. Someone in this world yet to learn it was dog eat dog.

The doctor said you were his favorite. That could only mean that you were kind, and beautiful. Coriolanus expected nothing less from you.

Coriolanus waits while the others sleep. The shifts had still not been switched yet. He grew inpatient. He wanted to thank you, and go to sleep.

But the same nurse who delivered his dinner sat there flipping through a magazine behind the glass.

Hours passed, he thought about abandoning the idea, and going to sleep. The hospital was small, and inadequately staffed. He was sure to run into you at a later date. Yet he made no move to sleep. Part of him wanted to see you tonight.

Finally, he did. The shifts were changed, and the nurse he had grown to detest was putting down her magazine to greet you.

He recognized you instantly as you entered the nurses den.You put down your coat and bag, as you talk to the nurse on duty. For a late night shift you seemed in good spirits.

You look out from the window, and for some reason Coriolanus pretended to be asleep. He didn’t want you to think he was a stalker, waiting up for you.

Only one nurse was on duty overnight due to staff shortage, and Coriolanus felt relieved when the other nurse returned back to the nurses quarters. He wanted to be alone with you.

He waits patiently until you come out to check on the men.

You pulled blankets over them like they were children, put their limbs back onto their small beds. You made sure every man's vitals were where they were supposed to be. More work than the other nurse did her entire shift.

You are slow getting to him, but he doesn’t mind. He enjoyed watching you as you worked.

It was dark, and you were so focused on your task, you didn’t see him staring at you until you reached his bed.

“Hello” he greets.

“Mr Snow”, you address, “You should be asleep”.

“I was waiting for you. I hear it is you that I have to thank for saving my life”.

“Hardly. I just assisted”.

You were bashful about saving a man's life.

“Well thank you for assisting to save my life, and for carrying me to the gates. I wouldn’t have got there if you hadn’t arrived”.

The blush on your cheeks was heavenly. A small smile teased your lips, and you looked shyly down. It wasn’t often you got praised, he guessed, he would try to do it as often as possible.

“It was no problem”, you mutter.

Your eyes suddenly shoot down to him, and your posture straightens.

“Is your arm giving you pain?”, you ask him.

It was, but he didn’t want anymore drugs making him hazy so he denies the throbbing sensation.

“No. I feel fine”.

“Can I get you an extra blanket or pillow?”.

His heart twists at your words. He very rarely hears ‘what can i do for you’, instead of ‘what can i take from you’. It was a nice change.

“No, thank you”.

“If you change your mind, let me know. I have rounds to do. Any problem, push your call button” you point to a yellow light clicker next to him, “try to get some sleep. Rest is important in your recovery”.

He almost begged you to stay, but it was a childish need.

“Thank you, nurse Y/n”, he returns.

You leave him with a smile, “of course”.

Over the next couple of days of bed rest Coriolanus grew restless to see you. It felt like torture, waiting hours to sometimes only catch a glimpse of you as you pottered in the staffs den, or made your rounds on the other side of the hospital.

He mostly hated Tuesdays, and Fridays, as they were your days off.

He felt jealous when he saw you attend to other patients. He knew it was silly, it was your job, but he didn’t like being attended to by anyone else, and he didn’t like you attending to anyone else. He didn’t like that you had a job at all. Let alone one this taxing.

But it did mean that he got to see you.

He liked to think that he was your favorite, but you gave no indication that it was true.

You were kind to everyone. Had repours with nearly all of the men in your wards. Some even called you by your first name only. Coriolanus felt it was disrespectful and too familiar for his likening.

The man next to him had a leg blown off in an explosive test gone wrong. Sometimes it felt as if he was your favorite. You would spend more time at his bed, than Coriolanus’s. And you always called him by his name, Francies, but always called Coriolanus, Mr snow.

Still you found his compass for him, polished and delivered it straight to him, that was a sign that you favorited him. You only performed within your job requirements for Francies, you went beyond for him.

He began to worry that love had made him stupid again. Like Lucy-Gray, you consumed his thoughts.

Except here, you held the power. He could only see you when you decided to visit him, where he could visit Lucy-Gray in her enclosure anytime he wished. You fed him, he fed Lucy-Gray. He hated being on the other side of the power imbalance. He promised himself that he would only be on top from now on.

It was stupid after everything to fall so quickly back into his obsessive nature. He thought he would never love again. Never give someone that much power over him again. He would marry for power, and to someone who had no sway over him at all.

Yet when he saw you eating soup for the millionth time in the nurses den, he wished for nothing more than to give you every luxury life had to offer. You saved his life. You were kind to him, when all he had ever known was being of use to someone.

He would get back to the Capitol, Hoff had promised him that district 2 was still on the cards. All he had to do was get better, and he could complete officer training, get back to the Capitol, and send for you there.

Without school in the way, he could get a good job. Plinth had managed to get Coriolanus’ academy diploma. That still had use, even with his time as a peacekeeper.

He would get the Snow apartment back. It might be crowded, and run down, but he would slowly fix that. He figured you wouldn’t mind so long as he was working towards a better future.

He would daydream of a better future for you both, while he waited to see you. Not only was he given another chance, he was given motivation to take it.

Why would you want a low Peacekeeper for a husband? You were surrounded by them all day. What good were they to you? How would they take care of you, and provide all that you need.

Even on an officer's wage, it would be a struggle. He still had to send home money. Even as an officer he would be no good to you. He had to get home, and rise to the top.

But, he was going to miss you in doing so. He faked being hurt just a little bit longer than necessary. He would have to go soon, but two extra weeks of your attention wouldn’t derail his plans too much.

You worked mostly night shifts which distributed Coriolanus sleep. But it worked in his favor too. Rarely was anyone else awake. It could just be the two of you

He thought you liked it too. You would smile when you saw him awake.

He found himself smiling back on reflex.

“Do you sleep, Mr Snow?” you tease him.

“Not when you’re around”, he admits.

His words still you. It’s clear you feel uncomfortable that he said it. Coriolanus wished he could disappear.

“Is your arm giving you pain again?” you ask. He takes the opportunity for the dismissal.

“Ah-Yes”, he deflects.

You turn up his pain relief, and unwrap his bandage to take a look.

Coriolanus set his record for two wrong things said in a row. He was always cool, and calculated. You had to be to survive in the Capitol. Honey-tongued he was called, but now he was acting like a fool.

He didn’t want the extra pain relief that would make him tired, and he definitely didn’t want you to look at his wound that was yellow and pusy.

It didn’t irk you like he suspected that it would have, but still he tried to yank his arm away and hide it under the blanket.

You catch his hand with yours to keep his arm still as you inspect it. He suddenly felt very hot as you held his hand on the bed, while you looked put together and focused like always.

“Yellow bellies have the most painful bite of any snake in the district. I am surprised you complain so little”.

You jerk your hand from his, causing his fingers to curl. He keeps his fingers tight against his palm which aggravates the sore muscles on his bitten arm.

Taking a bottle from his nightstand, and dapping it into a medical cloth, you turn your focus back on him.

“I am just going to clean it. It might hurt a little”.

The first dap felt like acid on his arm. He grits his teeth from the pain.

“Why don’t you tell me about yourself. How long have you been a peacekeeper for?”.

You were trying to distract him. He picked up on it easily. He should have felt like a child, but he felt thrilled at the opportunity to talk to you about something other than his arm.

“Not long. I am going to Officer training in two, and then I’ll make my way back to the Capitol”.

“Oh the Capitol? You aren’t a transfer from another district”, you observe as you tap his yellow, and flaky skin with your rag.

“Do you know the Campbells?”, you ask.

He did. He was surprised that you did.

“We were neighbors, before the war” you explain.

“You’re from the Capitol?” he asks.

“I was. The war took both my parents. After that there was nothing left for me there”.

There was no emotion as you said it. No hidden anguish at all you had lost.

“I am sorry that happened to you”, he offered.

“Don’t be. Plenty of orphans due to the war. I am grateful that the medic school took me. But the Campbells had this little white dog that I used to love. I always wondered if it survived”.

Coriolanus knew that the dog was long gone. The Campbells had eaten it when supplies were cut off to the Capitol. They tried to sell its fur to Grandma’am.

He didn’t want to disappoint you with the news, so a lie fell off his tongue.

“Yes, it did. Mrs Campbell carries it everywhere with her”.

You smile and he is glad he chose to lie.

“My parents died in the war too. I have my grandmother, and cousin waiting for me to get back to the Capitol’’.

“I hope you get there, Mr Snow”, you say as you wrap his arm back up.

“Would you come with me?”, he asks.

Your pause made him worry that you were going to laugh at him, but instead you looked shyly up and smiled.

“This is my home. I am happy here’, you state.

“The Capitol would be better than here. I could give you the life you deserve”.

“The Capitol is not for me”, you deflect.

He felt angry at your resistance. Did you not think he could look after you? Did you not trust that he would not remain a peacekeeper all his days.

“So that’s a no. You wouldn’t come with me”, he determines.

It should have been disheartening. He should have left the idea alone there, but if anything it was a challenge. A call for action. Motivation to leave the hospital and become the man you would leave the district for.

“That’s a no,” you agree, “But when you get to the Capitol, I want you to give Mrs Campbell's dog a pat for me.”

The dog is dead, he wanted to say. You had hurt him, so he wanted to hurt you, but cool, and calculated is how he survived, and it’s how he would get everything he is after.

“I’ll do it for a kiss,” he barters.

You look surprised he said it. Unsure at first, before your lips turned into a sly smile.

Bending down, he thinks you are about to accept his offer. He parts his lips slightly for you, bringing his head towards yours slowly.

His heart pounds in his chest. If his arm wasn’t so sore he would reach out for your face.

He remembers the anticipation of Lucy-grays first kiss. It was a dizzing feeling that he hated.

He swears he feels your lips graze his but you duck your head away and kiss both his cheeks quickly.

“You can tell Mrs Campbell I said hi too”, you giggle.

“Was that amusing for you?”, he asks.

You nod your head with a grin across your face.

“Goodnight, Mr Snow. I’ll see you for breakfast”.

Wasting no more time with him, you continue your work with other patients.

“Goodnight, nurse y/n.”

Coriolanus rests his head on the pillow as you disappear into the other side of the hospital.

He must have been a child the last time he couldn’t help but smile. All that had happened seemed like a lifetime ago, and not only a couple of weeks. He was a new person. Lucy-Gray had killed the boy, and raised the man.

Wouldn’t come to the Capitol with him? He would be the final decider of that. He smiled thinking about the future ahead of him.

The news of his discharge did not bring him the pleasure he was expecting.

Who knew how long officer training would take. It could be years before he got back to the Capitol and that was only when his journey began. He was sure he would not forget you, but would time cause you to forget him.

His fellow Peacekeepers wished him well as he packed his truck up. Commander Hoff had signed him out this morning, but you weren’t there to say goodbye.

He couldn’t let you forget him.

He owed you his life, he had a debt to pay.

Everyone told him how happy he should be. To get out of 12, but you were in 12. Surrounded by young men with little brains but big muscles.

How lonely could he expect you to get before you found warmth in the arms of a soldier.

He tosses in his uncomfortable bed. In the morning he would be sent

miles away. Could he trust you to assume his love? No. He had to tell you. Had to assure you that he was coming back.

Tonight you did night shift. He had to tell you to wait for him.

He leaps out of his bunk, pulling on his cardigan before sneaking out of the bunks.

If a commanding officer caught him outside after lights out, the punishment was a night in the compound jail. He wouldn’t be released until late morning and would miss his train.

He is quick as he moves through the darkness. Only stopping to hide when night staff were approaching. He made it safely to the nurses door.

It was late. Night guard focused on the boundaries so Coriolanus felt safe to approach the door to the nurses den despite the light illuminating the door.

He knocks on the entry, and you open it shortly after. Unsuspecting, and untroubled.

“Mr Snow,” you smile at him, causing him to unknowingly smile back.

“Is something wrong?”, you step aside to allow him in out of the cold. He closes the door behind him, and feels secure being trapped in the room with you.

“Yes-No”, he wasn’t sure where to begin.

“Your arm?” you guessed.

“I am going to officer training tomorrow”, he states.

You smile wide at him again, but this time no smile on his lips curled back. He could tell you had not realized your stake in this.

“Congratulations.’’ you move past him to place a clip bored back on the shelf behind him, “I am happy for you.”

“Are you?” he asks.

“Of course. I remember you telling me your plans to reach the Capitol. Officer training is a good stepping stone”.

He grabs your arm to turn you towards him.

“I don’t want you to forget me”.

You looked unsettled, but made no attempt to break away.

“Of course not”, you answer.

“I don’t want you to think I’ll forget you either. I’ll send for you as soon as I can”.

Your face twists, and you slightly attempt to raise your arm out of his hold.

“Mr Snow, I am afraid you are confused. Maybe you should go back to your bunk”.

He uses his grip on your arm to shake you slightly.

“Don’t speak to me like that”, he requests. He wasn’t one of your patients.

“I told you, I have no interest in returning to the Capitol”. Your voice had changed from your usual sweet tone. It carried a hint of irritation, and strong determination.

You try to tug your arm back from him but it was too tight,

“I have an interest in you returning to the Capitol”.

You look past him to the door. It causes great irritation for Coriolanus. Who wanted all of your focus.

With his hold on your arm he pushes you back into the wall and kisses you. His lips are hard against yours. His eyes are closed but yours remain open from the shock.

You struggle against his kiss, but his grip was tight on your jaw and his lips pressed unmercifully against yours.

He was the one to break the kiss, leaving you breathless and shrunk against the wall.

“I need you to tell me you’ll wait for me”, he demands.

“Mr Snow, I-”.

He brings you forward to slam you back into the wall as punishment for your hesitation.

“Say it”.

Your hands come up in defense between you.

“I am sorry if I misled you”.

“Misled me? You saved my life”

“It’s normal for patients to feel this way after a traumatic experience. Your body has been through a lot of shock, wait for it to heal”.

“Say it. Say the words, Coriolanus Snow, I am yours, and I’ll wait for you”.

You look out the window to the sleeping patients. Even if one woke and saw you, most of them were too sick to even get out of bed.

“Don’t look at them. Look at me”, he demands. The hands that held you in place moved up to your neck

“Okay” you agreed quickly before he started to apply pressure.

“Say it”, he declared.

“I’ll wait for you”. You say but it doesn’t satisfy him.

“The whole thing”, he directs.

“Coriolanus, I am yours and I’ll wait, okay?”.

With his hands still on your neck he kisses you once more. You make no attempt to stop him as you place your hands on arms.

He pulls back with a boyish smile on his lips.

“I love you”, he states.

You pull his hands away from your throat and keep them still between your hands.

“You must go back to bed now. You have a big day ahead of you. You need your rest for it”, you push him away slightly as you spoke, hoping it would be enough to redirect him.

He removes his hands from you completely with a smile.

He knew you were right. He needed to arrive his best tomorrow. Show district 2 that he wouldn’t be there for very long.

“I’ll send for you as soon as I can”, he promised.

You nod your head enthusiastically, pushing firmly on his arm to the exit.

His feet shuffle on the floor as he slowly walks to the door.

He stops just as his foot hits the cold air from the open door. It felt like you had run into a brick wall as you knocked against him.

“I promise y/n, I’ll take care of you”, he vows.

He comes in for a kiss again. His hand found its way to the side of your face to pull you in, and his lips pressed hard against yours.

You yank yourself away and push on him to retreat back to his bunk.

“Go” you whisper and he does.

You watch as he runs back into the buildings and under cover of the darkness.

Your shaky hands turn the lock of the door as he disappears from sight.

The next morning,as soon as he wakes he heads to the medical facility to say goodbye to you. He skips breakfast to do so.

You weren’t there, and he had no clue where the nurse quarters were kept. He had no time to find out, his train would leave soon.

He arrived at the train station disheartened that he couldn’t see you one last time. You must have been greatly upset at his departure. A goodbye must have been too much.

He pictured you crying in your bed, and his heart pulled to think of you in such a state because of him. He would write as soon as he landed in district 2, never mind the cost.

It was a delight when Commander Hoff spoke of a change of plans. Dr Gaul had requested your presence, Hoff said.

His luck had finally turned. He was back in the Capitol. Back where he was supposed to be in a high position of power and money to burn.

It was too soon to bring you back. The ground beneath him could still turn to quick sand under his feet. He thought of you often, every second that he had spare. He worried that you were angry with him. It had been too long since he had talked to you. He has been so busy settling in, and flaunting his new success that he didn’t have time to sit down to write. The few times he tried to squeeze in on the car ride, or while waiting for a meeting, his hands would shake too much.

He felt stupid. A simple letter should not make his hands shake. On the way back from the lake, he had promised himself that he would never allow love to make him weak again. Now he is worried about your feelings towards him.

Finally he decided that enough was enough. He rises from his bed after tossing nearly the whole night through, and enters his study.

The pen felt heavy in his hand as he sat. He wasn’t sure what to say, or where to start.

He shakes the pen in his hand. Enough was enough. He would be careful how much you swayed his emotions.

‘Dear Nurse Y/n,

I hope this letter finds you in good health. ‘

He strikes his pen through the words, before crumpling up the paper and throwing it away. So formal.

‘Dear Y/n,

My plans to reach the Capitol have been expedited. I am now working under Dr Gaul in the war department. We have plans to run for senate.

I have not forgotten my promise that I would send for you. ‘

His pen stills. With everything going on, he wasn’t sure that now was the best time to bring you. Tigres had limited contact. He was working until late at night. Nearly all his money went to the run for senate.

Once he wins things would be different. He would send for you then. Until then, he wanted you to have a piece of him. A token of his promise.

He picks up his old peacekeeper dog tags from his desk drawer. It felt like a collar in his hands.

He tosses them into the envelope and continues writing his letter to you.

‘I have enclosed my dog days. I wish for you to wear them while I am away. A symbol of my love. We will not be parted for too long. Take care of yourself.

Yours,

C.Snow’

Coriolanus writes to you every evening before bed, but no letter is ever returned. He didn’t mind, he was sure that it was because you missed him too much. Writing would cause you pain, and that’s the last thing he wanted to cause, even if a reply was all he wanted.

He would write mundane things. What he did that day, how much he missed you, how his election for senator was going.

It was going well. He won voters easily. But the run kept him busy, with little time and energy left to write to you. He worried that you would be upset with him. Sometimes all he could manage to write was, ‘I love you. I am tired.’

The gifts he would send were returned. Every letter he would assure you that he was working towards bringing you here. Begged you not to be mad at him.

But you would not accept his telephone calls and your presents piled at his feet.

It had been nearly six months since he left district 12. Six months of not seeing you. Not hearing from you. It drove him mad.

He called you a spiteful woman in one of his late night letters after a fundraising gala.

The next letter that arrived the same day apologized. You were not a spiteful woman. He was a stupid man. You had every right to be angry with him. He is taking too long. He begged for your forgiveness and reminded you of his love.

You threw the letters in the bin and clocked on for your shift. The days were longer now that you don’t talk to the patients.

Coriolanus sits in his office after a long day. He wanted nothing more than to go home and have you there. Ready to care for him like you did at the hospital.

He twirls the pen between his fingers. The other hand played with the coins he planned to give you.

He wished you would reply to him. A single sentence would be enough to quench his thirst.

Begging for a letter would seem desperate. With a beginning in mind he set his pen to paper.

‘Dear Y/n,

I hope to hear from you that you have been well. ‘

Yes, good. Set the expectation of a reply.

‘Please, let me know if there is anything I can do to ease any discomfort. I have been well. Apologies for the delay in writing to you. I have been busy preparing to run for senator. With the support I have managed to gather I believe victory is set. You’ll be a senator's wife upon returning to the Capitol. As soon as I win, and it is safe, I will send for you. I haven’t forgotten you.

I have missed you terribly, and think of you often.

I hope to be reunited soon.

Yours,

C.Snow.’

Nothing but the money he sent was returned.

It sent him into a fit of rage. Papers were thrown off his desk. Decorative ornaments were thrown across the room and into walls.

He decided that no more letters were going to be sent unless he could tell you the news you have been waiting for.

He worked harder than ever. No longer playing fair. He cut corners where he could. Relied on money, rather than charm. He used to be opposed to the use of poison. Told Dr Gaul that he would win the senate seat through his wit, but time was passing too quickly. Coriolanus grew impatient. A nasty rumor about what he was doing spread around the Capitol, but he quickly shut it down.

It paid off with a landslide victory. He hadn’t just won his entry to the presidency. He had won you.

Surely, you could no longer be mad at him with such an impressive victory. He had his assistant organize a train out of district 12 for you.

With it in his hand he sat in his office chair and penned you a letter still dressed in his uncomfortable formal attire.

‘Dearest,

You may of heard the news of my win last night.

I have attached a train ticket out of 12. It leaves next monday at noon. Don’t miss it.

Forever yours,

C.Snow. ‘

With no reply back, Coriolanus was hopeful that he would see you on the train. He arrived too early to collect you, and spent the hour waiting by pacing the platform with the dying rose.

When it finally pulled up, he could hardly hide his excitement. It had felt like years without seeing you. He sent you beautiful green luggage set to back what you wanted, and a new dress to arrive in.

He waits for you to arrive out of the first class carriage but it emptied without sight of you. He continued down, weaving through the people down to the luggage carriage. Maybe you had gotten off the train while he was distracted.

The green set of luggage he had sent you was being carried off the train. He rushed to the carriage to greet you, but only a working man was there.

“Where’s the girl who owns this luggage?”, he demanded.

“No girl, sir. Only the luggage and the ticket”, replied the man.

The rose dropped from his hand. It felt as if the venom from the snake had begun to pulse through his body again.

He rushes back to his office where he hastily grabs a piece of paper, and pen.

His pen digs a hole into the paper from where he pressed down, but through his anger no words could be formed.

After everything you would not come. You were stubborn like Lucy-gray. Didn’t know when to quit. He would have to change that about you when you became a senate's wife.

He crumples up the letter and throws it in the bin. There would be no warning for you.

The next week he arrived back in district 12. It was a surprise to the district which meant it was a surprise to you.

A trip as a new senate leader to ensure the medical facilities were up to standard, he had told the Commander.

The new Commander of district 12 was chuffed with a visit from the Capitol. It proved difficult to be left alone at the hospital. Coriolanus’s eyes the small hospital he managed to push his way too.

The Commander was too loud. He would take the element of surprise away. It would give you a chance to escape, and Coriolanus would spend hours searching the compound for you.

He wanted to wrap his hands around the new Commander's throat. Coriolanus despised Hoff during his peacekeeper days. But at least Hoff knew the importance of composure. This man nearly leaped into Coriolanus' arms.

A lie of a headache landed Coriolanus in the doctor's den. It was a bigger, self-contained room than the nurses' den. It was situated at the very back of the hospital, away from the noise and eyes of others. It made it a perfect place to bring you.

“There was a nurse”, Coriolanus spoke as he took a seat at the table, “back in my old peacekeeping days. Nurse Y/N, I think? Could you send for her? I’d like to see a familiar face”.

“Of course, Senator Snow. I’ll send her, and a doctor right along”. The Commander turns to leave. Panic and annoyance rises through Coriolanus.

“Just her”, Coriolanus said, a little too sharply. He takes a breath to regain himself before directing the Commander once more.

“And Commander, take two of my peacekeepers to escort her back. You’re a busy man, and they will want to do their security measures anyway”.

The Commander nods back before leaving the room.

Coriolanus lets out a shaky breath, running his fingers through his hair to smooth the curls back. After all this time he was going to see you again. He would be able to hold you, he was sure.

How would you greet him? Should he wait for you to set the tone? See your reaction and base his off that. He wasn’t sure he would be able to stop himself from touching you if you were within arms distance.

He sat back down behind the table. It would give him an excuse so you would be forced to make first contact.

His finger locks with his curls. He should have got his hair professionally done, but he was in such a hurry to get here to you. Instead he focuses on straightening his suit. It was expensive and well made. It should impress you, but not if it was crumpled.

His pocket bore a hole with the present he had brought for you. A lovely pair of diamond dangle earrings.

He twisted the box around in his fingers, and took another deep breath. He hoped that upon seeing him your anger would disappear.

Maybe it was all a test. You wanted him to come back. To put on a show for your friends here. The prince took the princess away to live happily ever after.

The prince brought a nice pair of earrings with him. Surely, you could forgive him for his delay. He couldn’t bear your anger.

His anxiety was matched with the ticking of his wrist watch. What could be taking so long? He wonders. Were you also readying yourself for him? Didn’t you know that you were the most beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes on? It didn’t matter to him if your face was dirty, or your eyes carried sleep. Your heart blinded him to mere appearances. It was your soul he loved, and your soul he would have.

“Hello, dearest” he greets with a soft smile.

You slam the door closed behind you, shutting the Peacekeepers out.

“What are you doing here?” you seeth.

Coriolanus pockets the box once more. He would give it to you when you would appreciate them more.

“Would you like a cup of tea?”, he pours the pot that was given to him into the single teacup provided.

“I have work to do. What do you want?”, you state.

“I just want to talk. Sit please”. He gets up to show his full height. Sometimes he swore you forgot the noticeable size difference when you talked.

He gestures to the chair across the small table. He places the cup in front of you as you sit, before returning to his seat across from you.

“How have you been?”, he asks casually.

“You want to talk about my health?”, you spat back at him.

“You never responded to my letters”.

“I told you to stop sending them to me”.

“No”, Coriolanus rejects, “I never heard anything from you”.

It was a sore point for him that swelled a lot of the emotions he had pushed down.

“If I didn’t have tabs on you, I would have thought you were dead”, he let slip.

His eyes closed in frustration as he said it. Just your presence made him lose his composure. At least with you, he knew his secrets were safe.

“You were keeping tabs on me?”, you muttered in disbelief.

“As I said, I thought you could be dead. I was just making sure you were safe. I wasn’t sure my letters or presents were even reaching you”, he reasons. He leans his hand across the table, wanting so badly to touch you.

“What are you doing here?”, you ask again.

“I’ve come to take you home. Back to the Capitol”.

You did not look joyed at the news like you should have.

“District 12 is my home”, you accounce.

He pulls himself back from across the table. A harsher approach would be needed, so he squares his shoulders, and sits up as tall as he can. His face hardenings, and he feels a scowl edge across his face.

“You are happy here?”.

Flashes of the forest cross his mind. The endless wandering. The dull ache of thinking that he had failed his father. The betrayal.

“Yes”, you answer.

Coriolaus trains his eyes on the teapot, no longer able to look at you with such hate.

“That’s a shame”, he states.

“Shame?” You question.

“I didn’t come here to leave without you”.

“Mr snow-“

He sighs deeply, leaning on the table

“Coriolaus, please”, he begs.

You suddenly stand up, your chair falling back at movement.

“Coriolanus, get out. Keep your letters to yourself, and never bother me again”.

Coriolaus doesn’t move, just stares at you from his chair as if you were the crazy one.

“Get out!” you scream at him.

His puzzled expression turns back to a neutral stare as he rises from his chair.

“Forgive me, nurse Y/N. I wasn’t aware of your indifference”.

His shoulders brush yours as he passes you to the door.

He had a plan B. He always had a plan B.

The next morning you were assigned to blood donation. A overhanging tent was placed near the front of the gates where districts, and fellow peacekeepers could donate for a few dollars.

You assisted a doctor in drawing, categorizing and storing the blood for use. You knew Coriolanus was still in the Compound. The Commander drove him around, showing him new additions since he was a peacekeeper. Coriolanus could care less, but he caught two glimpses of you as the car passed.

You were always busy working like he remembered. The tent quieted as it reached late afternoon. By 4 o’clock, it was just you and one other doctor attending the tent.

You still had three districts in chairs as the blood was pumped out of them. Coriolanus waited behind a building until he could see only one district left.

The doctor looks to be packing up while you talk to the man in the chair. Coriolanus hated that you were speaking to him. He was nothing. Less than nothing; he was district. He didn’t deserve to be talking to you.

Coriolanus made his way over with a calm demeanor, despite how he was feeling.

The doctor noticed him before you did.

“Mr Snow. Can we help you, sir?”, the doctor asked.

“I’d like to donate blood for the cause”, he answered. He made a point not to look at you.

“Mr Snow, that’s quite generous, but unnecessary”, the man replied.

“Please, I insist”. Coriolanus rolled up the sleeve of his left arm to prepare himself for the chair.

The Doctor looks to you, before accepting Coriolanus’s request.

“Very well. If you follow me I’ll just check your levels, and then I’ll send you to my nurse”.

Coriolanus could hear your protest leaving your lips, so he spoke loud and clear over them.

“Excellent”, he exclaimed.

He follows the Doctor to a small metal table with two fold out chairs opposite each other. He could partially see you from where he sat. You were still attending to the man in the chair but the talking had stopped.

Coriolanus engages the doctor in idle small talk so you couldn’t ask to be excused. He could see that the district had grown uncomfortable in Coriolanus’s presence, and kept asking how long he had left.

By the time Coriolanus had his blood pressure taken, and a sample of his blood taken, the district was being sent away from the tent with a coin, and a loaf of bread you had given him. Just in time for Coriolanus' time in the chair.

You ignore him, talking only to the doctor.

“Sir-I”, you begin but Coriolanus started his sentence in the middle of yours.

“I admit I have other motives aside from my patriotism. Nurse, would you mind answering a few questions I have? I want to hear every voice before I implement new changes”.

After hearing the Doctors complaints about the resources and pay, Coriolanus knew that the promise of change was his way in.

“Yes! yes, of course. You must hear all sides” the Doctor boasts.

“Doctor, would you mind leaving us? I find people speak easier truths without an audience”.

“Of course. She’ll tell you. It’s like working in a shooting range with limited bullets”, the Doctor turns to walk away, causing you to call out for him, taking his coat in your hands to tug him back.

He yanks it away from your grip. “Tell him”, he demands, “You won’t be in trouble he wants to know”.

Coriolanus gently touches your elbow, taking it in his hand, but releasing it as the Doctor becomes more focused on you.

“I’ll be back in half-an-hour. Don’t take anymore patients, I want to be packed up before it gets dark”.

The Doctor walks away from the tent, and the half-an-hour time frame begins to tick.

You looked sour, and slightly worried. He hated to see it, especially by cause of him.

You don’t move as he shuffles past you. He wanted to ease you so you could speak like you did when you visited his bedside. It was easy conversation, and for maybe the first time in his life, he felt seen by somebody. He wanted it back, but first he had to regain his familiar status with you.

“We’re in broad daylight, surrounded by Peacekeepers who like you more than me. What could I do?”, Coriolanus states as he takes his seat in the chair.

“You are unbelievable”, you scold, but move to swap his pressure point with disinfectant.

“I am sorry. Truely”. It had been so long since you were so close. Mere inches between you and him. It felt so right, could you feel it too? He thought.

“I never meant to offend you. My actions never held any ill intent”, he consoles.

The needle dug harshly into his arm, but he showed no effect of it.

“Sending me gifts, keeping tabs on me. You think I have forgotten that night in the nurses den?”. You pull back away from him once the needle begins drawing blood. He hated to let you, but plan B involved good terms.

“I am sorry for all of it. I misinterpreted, and fed delusion from my own fantasies. I never meant you harm”, he shouted his words across the tent hoping no other person was listening.

“I hope you can forgive me, Y/N. You saved my life”.

He could see your common sense fighting with your mercy. Your hands fidgeted, and your eyes kept bouncing from what you were doing to Coriolanus.

“Let’s just forget it”, you mutter.

“What?” he calls, despite hearing fine.

His plan works and you move back over to him to speak again.

“I forgive you. Bridge over water” you offer.

The saying was ‘water over the bridge’, but he didn’t want to correct you. If you said it was bridge over water, he would accept it.

“Thank you”, he gushed. “Why don’t you sit beside me like old times? I really do want to hear your opinions on reform”.

To his delight you do take a seat and discuss the issues with the Compound hospital. The Doctor focused on the long hours, disproportionate pay to Capitol doctors, and few resources.

You were more patient focused. You talked about rehabilitative care outside of the hospital. The food offered to recovering patients was poor which he could attest to. Beds were too hard, you wanted patients to be able to reach home and talk to their families more, resources were an issue for you too but in a patient care angle rather than a hindrance to your innate ability to save the injured.

You spoke passionately. It was wonderful to listen to you, Coriolanus almost felt bad that he had pushed the call button to his head peacekeeper nearly five minutes ago. He would have let you talk for as long as you liked. Sat happily without a word so long as you were speaking to him, but the Doctor would be back soon, plan B had to be set into action.

Coriolanus could see the Commander, and a string of Peacekeepers with guns as they came from across the field. It was impressive timing given that the file would have been put in the Commanders hands only a few minutes ago.

He tried to focus on you as you talked. Revell in your attention, and joy before it was ripped away.

You turn as you hear the marching

“What is going on?” Coriolanus questioned with fake outrage.

“Senator Snow, it is with great displeasure that I must announce that we have been harboring a traitor to Panem”.

“Traitor?” you gasp.

The Commander throws the fabricated file on the desk for all to see.

You take a look at a picture that had been manipulated to look as if you were talking to a man in the forest. Others show you talking to the same man in the middle of town, and rooms you had never seen before. Copies of notes in your handwriting passed Compound information along, and spoke of recruiting injured patients.

“Victorn layman. A known rebel who has been successful in many of his attacks, no doubt thanks to you”, the Commander accuses.

“I have never seen that man before, I swear”, you turn to Coriolanus with pleading eyes

“The evidence doesn’t lie”, the Commander screeched, “Cuff her, and throw her in the gaol”.

“Wait” you implore as the heavy cuffs are secured around your wrists, “I am not a traitor”.

“Commander, please. There must be a mistake”, Coriolanus felt compelled to speak on your behalf.

“If there is, Mr Snow, the committee of justice will reach the bottom of it”, the Commander promises. If Coriolanus didn’t hold control over the situation, it would have worried him. The committee of justice was very rarely, if ever, interested in justice.

Two Peacekeepers take each of your arms to push you forward. Coriolanus has to clench his fist to stop himself from tearing you free from them.

You call for him to do something as they lead you to the jail, but he watches with the needle still in his arm. The Doctor returns to see you being taken away by the Peacekeepers.

Coriolanus rips the needle from his arm, leaving it dangling as he walks away from the Doctor full of questions.

Plan B would drive you into his arms, or the grave.

He lets your brew in the compound jail for a week as the committee of justice overlooks your case.

The day they declare you guilty and sentence you to death by hanging. He knew you were ready for the picking.

That night he visits you, sure that you would now see the light.

He enters the compound jail, and saw you on the floor in the furthest corner.

The jail cell was bare, apart from a toilet.

A long stretch of bars that enclosed a dirty, concrete floor. You were alone, per his request, but not even a blanket was given to you.

You look up at him as he enters. His hands were in the pocket of his coat. His shoulders were square, and his hair was neatly pushed back into small curls.

“Nurse Y/n. I hate to see you like this”.

You scramble up from the floor towards him as you speak.

“Senator Snow, I didn’t do it. I am not a traitor”, you explain.

“The evidence would suggest otherwise”

“It’s not true” you shake your head, the tears fall off your cheek, “I swear. I swear I have no idea what is going on.”

Seeing you like this felt right. He was back in the position of power. Like Lucy-Gray you were trapped where he could always find you. You depended on him for food and water.

He holds tightly onto the iron bars, and presses his face as close as he could,

“I could get you out’’.

Your face seemed hopeful. He hated to crush it moments later.

“If you reconsider my offer of the Capital”.

You rub your face with your hands. Your tears were yet to stop spilling.

“Why are you doing this?”, you sob.

“I don’t want to”. He pushes his whole body as close as he could to the bars, but you remain five feet away.

“I owe you my life. I just want to help.”

“I didn’t do it!”, you exclaim.

“Y/n, they are going to hang you for treason If you don’t accept my offer. Please. I just want to help”.

“I don’t-’ a sharp breath interrupts your sentence, “I have never- I don’t know that man.”

“It doesn’t matter. Come noon tomorrow, you’ll hang”.

“Please, don’t let them.”

You move to the other side of the bars from him. Your hand curled under the same bars, just under his hand.

“I won’t. You just have to say it”, he speaks softly and slowly, peering down at you, “Coriolanus Snow, I am yours”.

“You said I saved your life. It would make us even”.

Coriolanus shakes his head

‘’I can protect you only if you are mine. Say it’’, he demands.

You’re silent for a moment causing Coriolanus to worry that you would not accept his offer. Was he so bad that you would choose the noose over him?

“I don’t want to die”, you admit finally.

He reaches through the bars to your waist, pulling you as far as he could to him. You keep your hands tight around the metal.

“You saved my life, let me save yours. I just need to hear those five little words”.

“I’ll go back to the Capitol?”, you asked.

“Yes, with me. Far from the noose”.

You squeeze your eyes shut, and your hands tighten around the bars, but you nod your head.

“Coriolanus Snow”, he begins for you.

You take a big breath but finally say the words he had been longing to hear.

“Coriolanus Snow, I am yours”. You repeat.

He smiles, moving his hands from your waist up to your face so he could wipe away the tears.

He brings your face as close as he could to the bars and kisses you. The bars hindered his passion. His lips would only barely press against yours.

When he pulls away he keeps your face in his hands as he speaks.

“You’ll be okay. Peacekeepers will come get you early tomorrow morning, and take you to the train. I’ll meet you there, and we’ll leave, okay? We’ll go back to the Capitol to live the life we were supposed to live”, he promises.

“Tomorrow?”, you question, “no, you said you could get me out”.

You pull back out of his hold and he returns his hands to the bars.

“I can. But if I whisk you away under the cover of night, how will that look? Like a guilty person laying down for the right man? Tomorrow it will look like they are taking you back to the Capitol for further investigation. In the Capitol I can clear your name.’’

You go further away from him, centering yourself in your cell. He wanted to reach out and pull you back but you were too far out of his grasp.

“This is my home. These people are my family” you say softly.

“And look how quickly they have turned on you. If it wasn’t for me, they would watch you hang tomorrow.”

Your eyes fill up with tears again. He had hit a sore spot.

“Hey, I am sorry. Come here”.

His hands stretch through the bars for you but you don’t move from your spot.

The tears turn into a scolding look causing him to retract himself from the bars, feeling foolish once more.

He turns to leave, but being alone in the dark cell panicked you.

“Wait”, you call out. He turns to see you reaching through the bars for him, “Don’t leave me here. Please.”

Coriolanus returns back to the cage, taking your hands in his, and kissing them.

“You stayed by my bed. I’ll stay by your cell”.

“Coriolanus. Get me out please”, you beg. You couldn’t stand one more night in the cold cell.

“Tomorrow, my love”, he comforts.

Your hands felt like ice in his hold. He should have come the first night to make sure that you at least had a blanket and pillow. He hadn’t meant for such poor conditions. What if you got sick from the damp, cold cell.

He reaches out to your shoulders. They were cold to touch. His poor sweet girl was cold and hungry. Tomorrow neither of you would be ever again.

He takes off his jacket and passes it through the bars, over your shoulders.

“Lay down”, he requests “When you wake all of this will just be a bad dream”.

You do lie down on the ground, and Coriolanus follows.

He lays down outside of the cell, but puts his hand through to hold yours through the bar.

With his spare hand he rubs your back to provide warmth and comfort until you fall asleep.

He shivers on the floor without his jacket. But it mattered little to him.

You would go back to the Capitol with him tomorrow. From there he would rise from senator to President.

You slept easy next to him. The bars separating your body from his touch. He wanted to hold you. Not only for his own gratification, but to keep you warm through the night. You had become the object of his worry. He had thought that his school-boy anxiety left as he hardened into a man, but he had instead just focused it entirely on you.

He worried that you would get hypothermia from your week in jail. Then his worry took him to your teeth. When was the last time you had got them checked? It was doubtful that there was an adequate dentist at base. He had never heard of one. What about your iron, and calcium levels? Being part of the Capitol charge surely they would ensure you were fed properly. He remembered being amazed at the food given to the Peacekeepers but that was a low bar.

He would get you checked over by his doctor once you got home. Then he would take you out for something nice to eat. Maybe, you would want to watch a show, even if you wanted to go home and lay in bed with him that would be fine too.

He was so close to it all. After this feat, there was nothing stopping his way to the top. He would be president after a term as a senator. You would be first lady. Spend your days shopping, and organizing dinners.

He would pay you back for your kindness at his deathbed. He laughs quietly thinking that it was Lucy-Gray who showed him the path to you.

When you woke the next morning, Coriolanus and his jacket were gone. Instead, a Peacekeeper greeted you by yanking you up from the floor by your arm.

You stumbled as he cuffed you and pushed you forward out of the cell.

It was early morning, but most people were already up to see you being manhandled into a Peacekeeper van.

You had no way of blocking your face to hide your shame. The van had a thin fabric roof, and doors that shut waist height.

People stared as you passed them in the van. People who had known you since you were a little girl stood as you were whisked away as a traitor.

The Peacekeeper took you to the train station as promised where you were taken out of the van by a Capitol Peacekeeper who led you to the right carriage.

Coriolanus stood by the door waiting for you. His shoulders sagged upon seeing your tears. The Peacekeeper hands Coriolanus the keys to your cuffs, stating it was his decision to release you or not.

As soon as the Peacekeeper leaves, he rushes over to you to undo the cuffs.

“Just for appearances” he comments.

“They all looked at me like I was a traitor”, you sobbed.

“When we reach the Capitol we will clear your name”, He promises, coming back to stand in front of you.

“But i’ll never see them again to tell them the truth”.

He brings you into his shoulder to cease the sound of your wailing. He couldn’t see why it mattered so much if they thought you were a traitor. You were right, you would never see them again.

“It’s alright”, he comforts.

You wrap your arms around the back of his shoulders as you cry. After a minute or two Coriolanus could no longer take it. He hated the sound of you crying. He thought he could be a fierce husband, but now he was sure to fold every time you wanted something.

You had slowed enough that he could pull away slightly to look at you. Your eyes were swollen, your cheeks and nose were red. The way you sounded, your nose was blocked from your tears.

“They will know the truth. I’ll ensure it”, he vows. “But until then you’ll just have to settle for me knowing the truth”.

He takes another step away from you, reaching for the bedroom door.

“Me, and him”, he teases.

As the door opens a small, white puppy with a large pink bow around its neck bounces out.

You gasp as you bend down to pat the dog. It jumped up at you, running in circles and then jumping up to place its paws on your knees.

“He’s yours”, Coriolanus says, “You’ll have to name him”.

You wipe away your tears, but your smile is still sad. He would have to work harder to please you.

“He’s beautiful. Thank you”, your voice is small, and hoarse from the crying.

“And there’s a whole wardrobe, and jewelry for you if you want to take a shower”, he offers.

Another misstep from a man so calculated. You rise from the floor with an angry expression.

“I am lucky you were expecting me”, you mocked.

“If I hadn’t been you would be looking at the noose”, Coriolanus spat back.

It was too late to turn back now.

His comment silenced you, and Coriolanus took the opportunity to take your hand and lead you through the bedroom to the bathroom door.

“Come on. You’ll feel better after a shower. Take your time. I’ll wait out in the common area”, he said.

You don’t answer him as you enter the bathroom.

You take a long time to join him in the common room. He had ordered morning tea, and coffee. He felt too uneasy to eat the biscuits, and small sandwiches offered so they were still available for you, but the coffee had long gone cold before you re-entered his presence.

Your hair was dripping down the dress you had put on. There were no shoes on your feet, or jewelry hanging off you. He was glad you were comfortable, but you looked uncared for. Which was not the case.

Your little dog barked upon seeing you which made you smile and say hello. Coriolanus was glad that he decided against passing the dog to the attendants. At least the dog offered an ice breaker.

“Feel better?”, he asks. He stands as you move to sit in the booth.

“Yes, thank you”.

As you sit Coriolanus moves with you. Wedging you between him and the wall.

“Your hair is still wet”, he comments.

A thick napkin is used by him to press the water out the ends of your hair.

“I had no energy to dry it”, you admit.

“Yes, I am sure this has been a lot for you”, he agrees, “but it’s almost over. As soon as we reach the Capitol that’s the end of it”.

He moves the napkin to rub it against the top to absorb moisture. It leaves your hair messy, and frizzy. He tries to fix it, gently clawing his fingernails through to soothe the uncooperative hairs.

“There” he says, “good as new”.

The dog barks as he runs around the room, exploring. Coriolanus wanted to kick it out but he knew it would upset you.

“Are you hungry?”, he asks.

You shake your head ‘no’, and turn from him to look out the window.

He allows you your peace. The dog is too loud. He would have to get it trained, but for now it filled the awkward silence.

Looking for something to do, he straightens the table fixtures. Making sure everything was perfectly in its place.

You lean against the glass instead of on him, which annoyed Coriolanus.

The only time you broke stature was when Coriolanus picked up the dog and placed him in between the seat. He didn’t like it there after he got bored with you and whined to be put down.

Besides that you sat and stared out the window until it became night. He couldn’t get you to eat anything. You had drunk some water which made him worry less, but you wouldn’t speak to him, and he didn’t want to come across needy by constantly talking to you with no response.

He had a speech to write for an upcoming bill proposal which engaged him throughout the day, but night fell and he was ready to connect with you.

He didn’t ask as he tugged you from your seat, and back to the bedroom. You didn’t fight him as he led. Coriolanus kicks the door shut on the yapping dog, hoping it would go to sleep.

You turn to open the door to the dog, but he catches your arms to continue the way into the bedroom closest.

“Given that there are not too many leisurely trips to the districts there is only one suitable bed, so we’ll have to share”, he encourages.

He passes you a nice pair of pajamas to change into which you accept.

‘And when we reach the Capitol. What will be your excuse then?”.

He couldn’t tell if you meant it in a criticizing way. Your voice was light as if it was a joke, but even toned enough to make him consider it as a genuine question.

He tried to appease both possible situations with a humorous answer.

“Bed bugs”.

It earns a scoff in a light hearted manner. His school-boy smile returned to his face like it did when you used to sit by his bed and talk during the night.

You hum before you disappear into the bathroom to change. The smile is still on Coriolanus’s face as he dresses for bed.

He had his joy back after it being ripped from his hands since the dark days.

When you come back out you are silent once more. Your expression had changed to one of deep and unpleasant contemplation.

“Are you okay?”, he asks.

You brush past him without an answer to the door. You find it’s locked but you try and force it open. The force of the door causes the dog to begin his nonsense again.

“What are you doing?” he questions.

You looked dazed as he neared you. He gently takes your elbow and leads you back to the bed.

He lets go of you to toss the pillows around but speaks to keep you focused.

“You nearly died today. You must be feeling all sorts of emotions”.

He remembered how it felt to knock on death's door. He almost feels his scar burn under your watchful gaze.

“It was you, wasn’t it?”, you whisper.

“Pardon?”. He almost coaks upon hearing it. He knew you would figure it out with some distance, but he had planned for you to already be in love. Maybe with a child or two.

“It was you. Who planted that evidence to get me to come with you”, you state it this time round as a fact instead of a question. It made Coriolanus sweat.

“How dare you” he acts astonished, “ After everything I have done for you. How could you suggest that?”.

Something in you registers. You take a look around at the train that raced you to the Capitol. A place you became a stranger to long ago, and a place where he held all the power. There was no getting off this train. Your fate had been sealed.

You smile at him lightly, “I don’t know. I am sorry. Forget it”, you brush off, “Bridge over water”.

He pulls back the covers as he repeats your sentiment “Bridge over water”.

#coriolanus snow #dark!coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #dead dove do not eat #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the nurse

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iamnotoriginalphil · 4 months ago

Text

Distracted (Kate Stewart x f!Reader)

Synopsis: You get horribly distracted around Kate leading you to agree to do something that may just make the entire thing worse.

Words: 8.5k

Warnings: smut, fake married, one bed trope, oral sex, boss/employee relationship, swearing, gross middle aged men

“Are you listening?”

“Hm?”

You looked up, finding dark eyes resting on you, a frown pulling down the corners of a mouth that had no right to look that good while annoyed with you. Kate Stewart, sitting across from you, lent back in her seat, crossing her arms over her chest. Which only made the listening thing more difficult when temptation was pushed up in a very pleasing way.

“You’re not,” Kate said.

“Sorry, what did you say?” you asked.

“You’re not listening at all,” she said.

It was with great effort that you dragged your eyes back up to her face. Her lips were pursed and you sighed, slumping in your seat.

“Sorry,” you said.

“What’s going on with you?” she asked, “you’re usually much better at pretending like you’re listening.”

A small chuckle reverberated in your chest but all you could do was shake your head. You couldn’t tell her the exact issue because then she’d know the exact issue. Which was you finding her incredibly distracting. Because she was incredibly gorgeous. And you wanted to put your mouth on her. All of her.

“I guess I’m just tired,” you said, “I’ve been having some trouble sleeping lately.”

Mostly because any time you closed your eyes you saw her. Usually doing things that were not appropriate to say out loud in the workplace. Especially to the boss. Especially when it was about the boss. And your fantasies about her.

“You should talk to medical about that,” she said.

“I’m sure it’s fine,” you replied with a shrug.

“If it’s affecting your work, you should have that checked out,” she said.

She looked down to the tablet in front of her. A lock of blonde hair swung forward and you clenched your fingers to keep from reaching out and tucking it behind her ear again. You squeezed your eyes closed and tilted your chin down, pushing the impulse down as far as it would go.

“So we’ll be leaving on Friday,” she said.

“Leaving?” You really wished you’d been listening.

“For Scotland. We’ll be gone for the weekend. Pack warm,” she said, glancing up at you.

“Because we’ll be… doing… important work,” you said, nodding slowly.

“We’re going undercover to root out the nonhuman at this event,” she said, “they don’t know we’ve realised they’ve begun impersonating one of the people that will be there. So I’ve accepted the invitation and you’re my plus one.”

You could only gape at her.

“You really heard none of that, did you?” The iciness had begun to melt and the amusement was beginning to shine through.

You shook your head, taking a deep breath. When you looked back to her, you made a concentrated effort not to look at the tantalising swell of her breasts or the exposed skin at her collarbone. Her lips had begun to lift at the corners and relief was sweet.

“So the whole weekend?” you asked.

“Leaving Friday, returning Monday morning,” she confirmed.

“And I need fancy clothes, right? Formal, rather,” you said when she raised an eyebrow at you.

“Best to be prepared,” she replied.

“I’m sure I can leave the bikini at home,” you quipped.

There was a moment when her eyes seemed to darken as they looked at you. You were sure you were seeing something, that it was just a change in the lighting.

“Perhaps for the best,” was her only reply.

_____*****_____

Friday afternoon came around far too quickly for your liking. Sitting on a train with Kate was alright. Working on separate things, it was quiet, comfortable, barely different from being in the office with her. The air was warm and when you looked, quite a nice view was going past the window.

Kate groaned, pressing her fingers to her temples as she flung her tablet down. You glanced up, nudging your open bag of crisps in her direction. She looked at you before taking one, crunching down on the potato.

“Problem?” you asked.

“I did not get into this line of work to be dealing with finances,” she said, “I’m not a bloody accountant.”

“No, you’re better. You’re every job rolled up into one,” you said.

“Just once I’d like it if someone else could put out the fires,” she said, taking another crisp.

“Unfortunately we don’t have anyone better,” you replied.

She sighed and her fingers returned to her temples. You nudged the undrunk cup of tea towards her. The smile she offered you was beleaguered and put upon. You nodded to it and she rolled her eyes, picking it up and pressing it to her lips. You waited until you saw her swallow, throat bobbing in a way that made you want to press your lips to her skin and make her do it again for a completely different reason.

“You need to stay hydrated,” you said, “and not just drink coffee all day.”

“You’re not my doctor,” she said.

“But I know you well enough to know you haven’t had any water today,” you replied, “or enough sleep I’d imagine.”

“Speaking of sleep,” she said, leaning forward, chin resting in interlocking fingers, “you seem more alert today.”

“Oh?” You weren’t sure where she was going.

“You’ve been sleeping better, then?”

“Oh.” You hadn’t, “I suppose.”

You’d been making a more concentrated effort to not be caught daydreaming about her. Certainly not in front of her. You didn’t need her to look into it more or force you to talk to one of the doctors when you knew the issue. And you certainly had no interest in explaining the issue.

You thought you’d rather let the world swallow you up than do that.

“Are you going to tell me this fabulous secret to getting more sleep?” she asked, snagging another one of your crisps.

“Tire yourself out,” you said, thinking about how you usually helped yourself get to sleep at night. All that fantasising had to come in useful eventually.

“And how would you suggest I do that?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” you replied.

“Well, what do you do?” she asked.

Your cheeks heated and you blinked at her, mouth falling open. There was no way to answer that appropriately. She waited patiently before she seemed to notice she wasn’t getting an answer. Her eyes slipped down your body before her tongue dragged over her lower lip.

“I see,” she said, voice lower than usual.

“I’m not suggesting you… it’s not… you do?” You weren’t even sure what you were saying at that point.

“I think I do,” she said, leaning back in her chair, bringing the cup of tea to her smirking lips.

“Right well, I’m going to go… get you some water,” you said, fleeing the scene.

When you returned she said nothing more about the conversation you’d been having, squinting down at the tablet. She took the water from you with a perfunctory thank you before she fumbled in her bag. Dark framed glasses were placed on her nose and you lost your breath.

You didn’t bother going back to your report, staring at her instad. You hadn’t seen her in the glasses before, and now you had, you knew they’d be playing a role in your fantasies from now on. You took a deep drink from your own water, knowing you had to look away but not able to. She was entirely too sexy with those heavy frames resting on her face.

She glanced up, brown eyes finding yours from behind glass. You were quick to look back down at your laptop as if you hadn’t been staring before darting up again.

“I know. Not one word. Growing older comes with some serious caveats,” she said.

“I like them,” you said, “they suit you.”

“Psh,” she said, flapping her hand at you but you could see the pleased tilt to her smile.

You continued working in silence until the train pulled to a stop. Rain was lashing the window and it was with difficulty that you navigated your luggage to the front of the station. Kate was holding the umbrella over your head, sheltering you as best she could.

Holding the door open, the driver UNIT had organised took the bags from you. You slid into the backseat with a sigh, leaning back in the soft leather. You closed your eyes, relaxing into the warmed chair.

“Tired?” Kate asked.

“I think it’s better if we don’t start that conversation again,” you said, “or else I’ll be forced to throw myself out of this car while it’s moving.”

“Point well made,” she said.

You slipped back into silence, the night pressing in at the window. You could see in the reflection she was also looking out her window, watching the scenery go by. The way she seemed to soften as she thought made you smile. Watching her when she didn’t think she was being watched was one of those things you rarely got to indulge in. You never failed to enjoy it when you could. Unguarded Kate felt like a privilege.

“Here you are, ma’am,” the driver said, pulling up on a gravelled drive.

“Thank you,” she said, pushing the door open.

She held the umbrella above as you grabbed the bags before you looked up.

“Oh my god,” you breathed.

“What?” she asked.

“We’re staying in a castle. A literal castle. Kate, this is a castle,” you said, turning to look at her.

The smile on her face was amused and a tad fond at your wide eyed wonder. Her hand landed on the small of your back, leading you towards the door.

“Try to look like you belong,” she murmured, leaning closer to you.

You shivered at her warm breath hitting your skin. She held the door open for you, then shook the rain out of her umbrella. After placing it in the holder waiting by the door, she swept you to the front desk.

“Stewart, checking in,” she said to the young woman behind the counter.

“Ah yes, we have you right here Mrs and Mrs Stewart,” she said, tapping at the keyboard of her computer.

Your cheeks heated and you opened your mouth to correct her. Kate pinched your hip, effectively silencing you. Your mouth shut with a snap, dragging your eyes over to her. She raised her eyebrows at you but you had no way to answer her.

“Alright, Wesley will show you up to your room,” she said.

A man had appeared behind you, taking the bags from you. Kate walked beside you up the stairs, her hand close enough to brush against yours. You glanced at her again, finding her already looking at you with a small smile. Wesley stopped outside a door, the key clunking in the lock.

The door opened onto an expansive suite, rich and luxurious. He put your bags down in the bedroom, lush carpet keeping his footsteps silent. He nodded to the two of you before closing the door.

“Kate?” you whispered.

“Sorry about that. They’re very strict about the kind of plus one we can bring to these events,” she said, walking away from you, leaving you gaping in the sitting area.

“I dunno about this,” you said, following her.

“You really weren’t listening when I explained this,” she said, ending on a laugh.

You stopped, realising there was only one bed. A very large, very soft looking bed. But only one. For the both of you. To share.

Oh no.

“They think we’re married,” you said, voice unsure and small.

“Newlyweds, in fact,” she replied over her shoulder, “do you want to shower first?”

“Uh, no, you go ahead,” you said, “what do you mean they think we’re newlyweds?”

“They didn’t have a wife on file for me. I had to let them know it was a new development,” she said.

She wandered into what you thought was the bathroom. Her gasp had you rushing in behind her. Crashing into her back, your hands clutched at her hips to keep the two of you upright.

“What is it?” you asked.

“Look at that tub. The things I’ll do to that tub,” she all but moaned.

Your cheeks heated again and you stepped back.

“I’ll uh, leave you alone with that,” you said.

“Quite right,” was her response.

You closed the door on the bedroom, curling up on the sofa, facing an already lit fireplace. You stared into the flames, trying to calm your racing heart. You couldn’t seriously be about to spend the weekend pretending to be your boss’s new wife. Your life had stopped making sense.

“Alright, you're up.”

You startled, not realising how long you’d been sitting there, trying to wrap your head around your situation. Kate was there in a set of sensible pyjamas, looking much more relaxed than she had all day.

“Right,” you said.

Getting up on wobbly knees, you passed her, rifling through your bag to find your own pyjamas. Not sensible, an old pair of shorts and an oversized shirt, you felt a flush of embarrassment. You hadn’t thought she’d be seeing them. You might have picked something that made you look a bit better than old clothes.

You took longer in the bathroom to shower and brush your teeth than was strictly necessary, but you figured you had the right after having this whole thing sprung on you. Gathering your courage, you stepped back into the bathroom.

The light was soft, a warm glow, the lamps on either side of the bed lit up. Kate was sitting in the bed, glasses perched on the end of her nose as she looked over a file in her hands. You froze, not realising that this was something you wanted to see. But now you couldn’t look away.

“I hope you don’t mind that I took the right side of the bed,” she said, glancing up at you from over the top of those thick frames.

“Oh, uh, no, that’s fine,” you replied, finally moving again.

Climbing into the bed beside her felt odd. Kate was usually so professional, all buttoned up and at a distance. This was so far outside the realms of your understanding you were certain you’d slipped into an alternate timeline. In the bed beside you she was all soft and tired, too domestic for you to be seeing.

“Tomorrow we have quite a busy day,” she said, plucking the glasses off her face.

“So we should sleep now,” you said, nodding.

“Indeed.” Her eyes swept over you for a moment, “but perhaps we don’t engage in our tiring activities to tempt sleep.”

“Okay, I’m ignoring you now,” you said, your embarrassment growing to a point you couldn’t handle anymore.

You rolled over, her chuckle warming you more than the down quilt you were burying yourself in. Squeezing your eyes closed, you waited for the lights to go out.

“Goodnight,” Kate whispered across the expanse of the bed before the lights went out.

It shouldn’t have felt impossible to relax in the bed, given it was big enough to not even notice another person was in it. Kate was so far away from you, you could barely feel her when she shifted on the mattress. On the edge of the bed, trying to give her more room, you held yourself so tight there was no opportunity to fall asleep.

A warm hand curled around your arm, tugging on you until you rolled onto your back.

“If you stay over there you’ll fall out,” Kate’s gravelly voice said from across the expanse.

You let her manoeuvre you into a more comfortable position, closer to her than before but still not close enough to really feel her. Her hand disappeared and you were left alone again. Her soft breaths were the only thing you could hear in the darkness. You tried to match your own breathing to them, hoping it would help you relax. She shifted and you froze.

This was a terrible idea.

After hours of doing your best to fall asleep, after what felt like minutes once you were, a strong hand was softly shaking you awake. You blinked into the sunlight, groggy and unsure of yourself.

“Rise and shine. Breakfast will be served in half an hour.”

You grumbled, pushing yourself up into a seated position, hair a tangle around your face. Kate was standing at the side of the bed, looking down at you, already dressed and looking perfect. You blinked again, rubbing at your eyes, trying to clear away the haze.

“Right, okay, yes,” you said.

Pushing the duvet off your legs, you stood, stumbling for a moment before she caught you. You dragged your eyes up to her face, finding her so close. You could feel the curves of her body, the brush of the wool of her jumper, the scent of her perfume clinging to her skin.

“Careful,” she murmured.

You jerked out of her hold, stumbling over to your bags again. You didn’t look at her as you scrabbled for clothes. Closing yourself in the bathroom, you took a deep breath, trying to push away the tiredness clawing at your eyes. One weekend, you could get through it. For Kate, you’d do a lot worse.

“Alright,” you said, exiting the bathroom, “let’s do this thing.”

She raised an eyebrow at you from her spot on the sofa. You waited until she shook her head and stood, holding an arm out to shuffle you towards the door.

“Is this what you’re like before you’ve had your morning coffee?” she asked.

“I suppose,” you replied, “no one ever really sees it.”

“Lucky me.”

The dining room was a hotbed of old masculine activity. You felt immediately out of place, in your jeans and jumper and non executive position in your organisation. Kate lifted her chin, staring down the room like she was in charge. Her hand settled on the small of your back again, leading you over to an empty table.

“Coffee?” she asked.

“You’re a goddess,” you said, sinking down onto the chair she’d held out for you.

She lingered a moment, looking down at you with a wide eyed gaze. You blinked, staring up at her, waiting for an admonishment. It never came.

“One cappuccino,” she said, placing a cup down in front of you.

“I could get used to this treatment,” you said.

“Kate,” a booming voice interrupted before she could say anything, “there was a rumour going around you might not make it this year.”

“And yet here I am,” she replied, shaking the hand of the middle aged man in a suit that probably cost more than your rent for an entire six months. And you lived in the heart of London.

“And this must be the new Mrs Stewart,” he said, turning his attention to you.

You got to your feet, holding a hand out to him. He brought it up to his mouth, lips brushing the skin of the back of your hand. Kate reached out, an arm wrapping around your waist, hand resting on your hip. It was a surprisingly possessive gesture and you were so focused on the warmth of her palm seeping through your layers you missed what he said next.

“Sorry, she’s a little tired this morning. Unfortunately we didn’t get as much sleep as we would have liked,” Kate said.

“Ah yes, newlywed bliss. I miss those days,” he said with a sage nod.

Your cheeks heated again and you couldn’t look anyone in the eye. Kate’s warm chuckle was the only thing keeping you holding it together. Lips pressed to your temple and you startled.

“Good work, Kate. She’s a beauty,” he said by way of parting.

She gave you a squeeze before releasing you. You sunk down onto the chair again, wrapping your hands around the warm cup she’d brought you. Sitting across from you, the table was small enough her foot brushed against yours.

“Sorry about that,” she said.

“Who was that?” you asked, finally taking a sip of coffee. Of course it was perfect. Of course she’d managed to know your order without being told. Of course she did.

“Donovan. Head of homeland intelligence. He’s never been best pleased with our interference,” she replied, looking at you over the rim of her own cup.

“Which explains why he was… flirting. That was what he was doing, right?” you asked.

“His version of it, yes. Bumbling fool that he is,” she said, “I should have warned you. People might use you to try and get the inside scoop on… me, I’m afraid.”

“I think they’re going to be disappointed. I’m a pretty loyal gal,” you said.

She reached for your hand, lacing your fingers together on top of the table. Your heart skipped a beat and for just a moment it was easy to believe the fiction you’d started. She took another drink from her cup, foot nudging yours under the table.

“You’ve always been good to me,” she said.

“It’s pretty easy,” you replied with a small shrug.

“I’m rather lucky to have you,” she said.

You looked at her from under lowered lashes, not sure what else to say. Anything more felt like you’d be slipping into dangerous territory where she might work out that your feelings were a bit more than professional. You didn’t want to be reassigned to a new division.

Breakfast passed with warm looks shared over food and too many introductions with important men and their wives as they tried to sniff out the competition. Kate bestowed smiles on you like they were free and the way she kept finding reasons to touch you was making your head spin.

And you were no closer to figuring out who the imposter was.

“Will you be okay on your own?” she asked once breakfast was done and you were about to split off.

“I’m sure I can manage,” you said, smiling up at her.

“That’s my girl.”

Her lips brushed your forehead and your breath caught in your chest. She gave your hand a squeeze before leaving you with the wives of the men she was going to investigate.

“Come on, love, we’ll take care of you.”

An arm threaded through yours, tugging you away from the retreating back of Kate. She glanced over her shoulder one last time before the doors were closed between the two of you.

“Ah, new love. We promise you’ll survive without her,” Elaine said, leading you into the sitting room.

“No, I know,” you stumbled over your words, “that’s not…”

“Relish these early days, my dear. Being this smitten won’t last forever and then it will be boring drudgery day in and day out,” she said, steamrolling over your words.

“And weekends away in Scottish castles,” you said.

The tittering laughs of the other wives made you look from face to face, trying to work out what was so funny. Elaine tightened her arm around yours, giving you an indulgent smile.

“I see why she likes you,” she said, “hard as nails that one but I suppose she has to be when she’s in the boy’s club.”

“Really?” No one at work would describe Kate as hard as nails. Kind, compassionate, tough at times but not some kind of steel lady.

“Oh yes. She holds her own with the men,” one of the other women, Helen, said, settling on an upholstered settee.

A swell of pride wasn’t what you’d been expecting but the distaste at the assumption she might not be up to it was. Of course Kate could hold her own. She was one of the most capable people you’d ever met.

“I bet you give her a run for her money,” Elaine said.

“Oh, I’m not sure-” you tried to say.

“But then you’re such a pretty young thing I’m sure you have her wrapped around your little finger,” Elaine continued,

You were not going to like the rest of the day if this was anything to go by.

After hours of invasive questions you did your best to dodge, you finally managed to get a moment to yourself, slipping away to your room upstairs. You were no closer to figuring out who was the disguised alien and all you felt was sympathy for Kate for dealing with this alone for years. Staring out the window on the expansive grounds, rain lashing at the windows, dark clouds pressing in, you tried to work through anything you might have learnt.

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

“Hello, wife,” you said, turning to look at Kate as she shut the door with her foot.

“Mm, I could get used to such a warm greeting,” she said, sauntering towards you with one hand in her pocket.

“Any luck?” you asked.

“None,” she replied, “you?”

“Well, all the women here seem to think I’m young and pretty enough to have you wrapped around my finger,” you said with a small shrug, “so nothing new.”

Her warm chuckle was throaty, making a shiver go down your spine. If only they knew who was really the one wrapped around a finger. If she asked, you’d impale yourself on the gate out front. Which would be concerning if you really thought about it.

“The ruse is going well then,” she said, “I spent the morning fielding questions about how I managed to convince you to marry me.”

“Oh, it was definitely the pay rise that came with it,” you said.

“Undoubtedly,” she chuckled.

She stood beside you, looking out on the rain. Shoulder to shoulder, you stayed in silence for a moment.

“These people suck, Kate. I don’t know how you do it,” you said.

“They don’t teach diplomacy in university but my god, I think they should,” she replied.

“Sorry,” you said, duly chastised.

“Oh no, you’re absolutely right. They’re an insufferable lot with too much ego and not enough sense between them to know when to quit,” she said.

You pressed your lips together trying to keep your laughter in, but once the first giggle slipped past you couldn’t stop. Her own face lit up, a smile spreading, eyes sparkling when she caught your eye. Her shoulder brushed yours as she lent closer, entering into your personal space.

“There’s no one I’d rather suffer through this weekend with than you,” she said, “you’ll at least see the humour in it when they inevitably put their foot in it.”

Your heart skipped a beat. The way she was looking at you made you forget that this was all a lie. That you weren��t there with her for a ruse to find an alien. That there was something more between the two of you. You wished there was.

“Now, chop chop, we need to get dressed for dinner,” she said, breaking the moment.

“Oh god,” you groaned.

“Don’t be like that. If you’re lucky, there’ll be dancing.”

That thought didn’t comfort you as you threw on your dress and did your hair all pretty. Kate was gallant enough to let you take the bathroom, giving you the space to panic in peace as you prepared your game face. You weren’t one for fancy dinners and dancing. More like late night take away food and lounging on the sofa.

Stepping out of the bathroom, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear, you took a deep breath. You looked up, finding Kate staring at you, lips parted, something in her gaze that had your skin heating. Something about it was addictive and you wanted more. You always wanted more with her.

“Did I do okay?” you asked, voice soft, unsure, hand smoothing over the silk of your skirt.

“Wonderfully. I’ll be the luckiest person in that room tonight,” she said, taking slow sauntering steps towards you.

Your eyes skated over her body. The suit she was in was tailored to her body and your mouth grew dry. It wasn’t that different from how she usually dressed at work, if only a touch more formal. Her white shirt was unbuttoned just enough to be tantalising, and having the long column of her neck on display like that was making you lose your train of thought. You had to take a deep breath to chase away the thoughts of leaning forward and brushing your lips over her pulse point.

“Maybe I should make formal wear a requirement for your position,” she said, her eyes sweeping down your body then back up.

“I think that would be abusing your position of power,” you said, cheeks heating up.

“Quite right,” she said, stepping back, the familiarity disappearing from her face, “I suppose we should head down to dinner.”

She held her arm out to you, your hand threading through her elbow. Leading you down the stairs, you could hear music coming from the back of the castle. You took a deep breath and she paused a moment around the corner from the open doors.

“Ready?” she asked.

“As I’ll ever be,” you replied.

She lingered another moment and you thought she might be about to say something more. But then she put on a pleasant smile and steered you into the ballroom.

The room was lit by crystal chandeliers, warm light, soft and flattering, beautiful in a way that was hard to replicate for less money. The hardwood floors were polished and at the far end a string quartet were playing lovely music. Waiters were wandering around with trays of drinks and hors d'oeuvres and the crowd of twenty people made the entire place feel empty and too big for their gathering.

“This is eerie,” you said.

“It’s a show of power. ‘Look how much money we have, beg us for some of it to keep your lights on’,” she murmured in your ear, “look suitably impressed. Here comes Donovan.”

“Ladies, you’re the last to arrive to our little gathering,” Donovan said, approaching the two of you.

“It’s beautiful,” you said, smiling at him.

“I hear you both cut out of the activities early this afternoon. Enjoying your suite in your newly wedded bliss?” he asked.

Your stomach roiled at the implication.

“I’m sure you remember what it’s like having a beautiful new wife,” Kate said, her arm once again curling around your waist.

“Indeed I do.” His eyes swept over your body and you did not feel the same warmth you had with Kate, “you’re a lucky son of a gun, Stewart.”

“Don’t I know it,” she said.

She pulled you half a step closer. Your body rested against the length of hers. Her hand rested on your hip and you curled an arm around her waist too. She looked down at you, smiling softly. You found yourself smiling up at her, not able to help yourself when she was looking at you like that.

“Harold, are you bothering the young people?”

Elaine slipped her arm through Donovan’s smiling at the two of you.

“Oh yes, you make a handsome couple,” she said, looking at the two of you.

“Thank you,” you said.

“It’s nice to see Kate finally settling down again. She’s been alone too long,” she said, “you’ve done her the world of good. Look at that glow.”

Her arm tightened around you, keeping you pressed along the long line of her body.

“I’m not doing much,” you said.

“You’re doing more than you know,” Kate murmured, lips brushing your temple.

“See, Harold, I told you their love was real,” she said, “you should hear how that one talks about Kate.”

“How do you talk about me?” she asked, looking down at you, that twinkle back in her eyes.

“Like a normal person would,” you said, that sense of embarrassment welling up again.

“She thinks the world of you,” Elaine said.

“Quite right,” she said, giving you one of those little smirks that had your heart skipping a beat, “luckily, I feel the same way.”

You felt yourself leaning closer to her, getting lost in her eyes. Soft fingers gently tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, lingering on your jaw long after it was necessary. Your lips parted, an ache starting in your chest, wanting to lean forward and close the distance, to taste her, to fall into her well of gravity.

“Oh honey, the dancing has started.”

You blinked, coming back to the moment. Leaning away from her, you took a deep breath, trying to settle your heart. Her gaze lingered, before she turned away, watching the couples begin to dance on the floor.

“Do you feel like there are less people here than this morning?” you asked, trying to count all the people.

“I think you might be right.” Dark eyes swept over the crowd, assessing the number of people in the ballroom, “that’s concerning.”

“They're not dead, right?” you asked.

“It’s too soon to tell,” she replied, then looked down at you, “I’m sure they’re fine.”

A stab of fear went through you. Sure, you were used to complicated situations, but killer aliens were more the purview of the Doctor than you. Kate’s arm tightened around you again, her steady body keeping you from falling apart in front of everyone. Your unsure smile seemed to amuse her more than worry her.

“Let’s dance,” she said, “see who is still here.”

She swept you onto the floor. Your hand settled on her shoulder, the other clasped in hers. She was perfunctory in her movements, keeping to the beat but not as graceful as you might have once thought. Still, being within the circle of her arms, bodies brushing together, close enough to feel the warmth of her skin, it made your heart beat hard.

“At least three of the men are gone,” she said, pulling you closer, lips brushing your ear with each murmured word.

“But you saw them before returning to the room?” you asked.

“Mm,” she hummed, “keep an eye out for someone who is trying to get anyone alone.”

“What if they’re just trying to get off with someone?” you asked.

“Then that will be awkward for a moment but at least they won’t be dead,” she chuckled.

Her hand was warm as it skimmed over the skin of your back before it settled in the curve of your spine. Your breath caught and her eyes flicked back to you, an eyebrow pulling up. Your cheeks heated and you looked away, focusing on the couples dancing over her shoulder.

Helen was leaning over Elaine’s shoulder, whispering to her. Elaine stood, shooting a look over at the two of you before a small titter came from their lips. Older lady disapproval. That cut you deep to the core.

“I do look okay, right?” you asked.

“Darling, you’re beautiful,” she said, “dazzling. I doubt these men have seen anything so wonderful in many years. Donovan keeps looking at you like you’re something to eat.”

“I wish you hadn’t told me that,” you said.

“I agree, that went a bit too far. No one needs to know that about Donovan,” she replied, giving you a small smile, “now careful.”

She dipped you, giving you the chance to see the people behind you. Back arched, you waited a moment before she pulled you up again, closer than before, chest to chest. Your curves were melded against hers, and you could feel her breath brushing over the skin of your throat. You shuddered, not able to stop it. She chuckled, the vibrations reverberating through you like a tidal wave.

“I think you’re better at this than I am,” she said.

“Well, I did take a few years of dance when I was about 10,” you said.

“That’s not what I meant,” she said and you weren’t sure what her tone was but it made your stomach sink.

She twirled you, and in that moment when you couldn’t see her face, you felt a sense of panic. The feeling that she was trying to hide something from you grew, only making you more desperate to see face, to gauge her emotion. But then she pulled you back in, hand on your hip, swaying to the music as she let her forehead fall to rest against yours.

“May I cut in?”

You blinked, turning to find Donovan by your side. He was holding a hand out to you, a cocky grin on his face. You opened your mouth to reply, only for Kate to wrap her arm around you, keeping you pressed against her.

“Elaine has run off with Helen and I find myself in need of company,” he said.

“And what will I do without her?” Kate asked.

“I’m sure you can spare her for one dance.” His eyes swept down your body and disgust curdled in your stomach.

“Darling?”

You looked up into her face, finding something you hadn’t expected to find there. Annoyance and frustration and something you hadn’t seen in her eyes before.

“Do you want to?” she asked.

“You know I’ll always prefer to be with you,” you replied, really not wanting that man to put his hands on any part of you.

“Correct answer,” she said.

“You have her well trained,” Donovan said, interrupting the moment.

“I’m not sure that’s what-” Kate began to say.

“But you can loan her out to me for one dance, can’t you?” he said, “after all, Elaine seems to have slipped away with Helen to whisper in the corner and I find myself all alone.”

“I’m afraid I still require her,” she said, “I really don’t want to let her go just yet.”

You slid your own arm around Kate’s waist, keeping as close to her as possible. Her chin dipped towards you and it was like Donovan stopped existing. She was the only one that existed and the way she was looking at you made heat spread through you. She was definitely better at this than you. Those heated looks and the possessive touches and the dancing. It was all making your head spin and you had to keep reminding yourself it was all pretend.

“You never have to,” you whispered.

She drew closer, breath ghosting over your lips. You couldn't stop the small whimper that escaped from you. Her eyes darkened as they darted down to your lips. You lent closer, not able to keep from practically begging her for a kiss.

The first brush of lips was soft, stealing your breath. You pressed closer, kissing her more firmly, your hand coming up to curl around the back of her neck. The small noise she made as your tongue swept along her lower lip had warmth pooling in your lower stomach. Her arm tightened around you as you melted against her.

The low wolf whistle interrupted you, thoughts rushing back into your brain after the emptiness her kiss brought. She pulled away from you, a stricken look on her face. Donovan was watching the two of you, looking as if he was enjoying the show more than the two of you had been, which was saying a lot given how you were feeling. She tugged out of your hold.

“I uh… I need a moment,” she said.

She turned on her heels and disappeared through the crowd. All you could do was watch her back as it got further from, disappearing through the doors of the ballroom.

“It appears as if you’re free for a dance now,” Donovan.

“Not so much,” you said, hiking up the skirt of your dress to chase after Kate.

Following her footsteps up the stairs, you chased her down the halls until you reached the door to your suite. Catching it before it could close, you slipped inside. Kate was pacing, hands shoved in her pockets, muttering under her breath.

“So,” you said, watching as she froze, “are we going to have to file paperwork with HR now?”

“I must apologise. We never discussed the boundaries of pretending to be in a relationship and I went too far. I would understand if you wanted to make a complaint with our HR department,” she said.

“What?” You’d already lost track of the conversation.

“I took the ruse too far and crossed your personal boundaries. I can only apologise and hope that you can forgive me,” she said.

“I don’t-”

“If you felt pressured in any way,” she interrupted, “you have my sincere apologies. The thought that I have ruined our working relationship with this brings me great pain. Not that I want to guilt you into dropping the issue.”

You ignored her, striding over. Both hands cupped her cheeks and you pulled her in, kissing her again, muffling the words against your lips. Her hands hovered a moment before they settled on your hips, pulling you closer again. Your tongue swept into her mouth, tasting her, wanting more. She groaned, deep in her chest, muffled in your mouth.

Your back hit the wall, pinned between it and her body. Your fingers found their way into her hair, tangling in the soft blonde strands, tugging until she made a small noise in the back of her throat. You arched against her, begging her for more.

Her hands slid up your body, cupping breasts through the silk of your dress. You moaned her name as her lips began to trail down your neck. Your head fell back, giving her the access she wanted. Her tongue ran over your skin, making you gasp, gripping onto her hair tighter. When her teeth sunk in, a groaned curse fell from your lips, arching into her touch, fire coursing through your veins.

“Fuck, darling,” she moaned against your neck, “what are we doing?”

“What we should have been doing months ago,” you replied.

“Months ago?”

She pulled back, raising an eyebrow at you. Your teeth sunk into your lower lip, watching how her eyes focused on it. Her thumb brushed against your hardening nipple, your hiss making her smirk down at you.

“Months?” she asked again.

“I might have had a bit of a crush,” you said.

“Around that trip to York to chase the ghost?” she asked.

“Uh huh,” you said, focused on the way her thumb was making you feel.

“That’s about the time you started being so distracted,” she hummed, thoughtful, tortuous in how slow she was touching you.

“I suppose so,” you said, breathless, watching her from under hooded eyes.

“Now that does explain a lot,” she said before swooping in to kiss you again.

Her name was muffled against her lips. Fingers scrabbled with the zip of your dress, tugging it down. Sure hands pulled the top of your dress down, dragging it over your arms, leaving you exposed. Her hands found their homes on your breasts again, skin against skin making your head spin.

You moaned her name, your own fingers making short work of the buttons on her shirt, pushing it from her shoulders. Her mouth was finding a home on your neck as fingers pinched your hardened buds. Your hands were travelling over the skin of her back, warm and soft against your palms and you wanted more. She was murmuring something into your skin, her tongue tasting you.

“Just to be clear,” you gasped as she rolled one of your nipples between thumb and forefinger, “we’re not pretending anymore, right?”

“Correct,” she said, lips brushing your skin, “this is very, very real.”

“Okay good,” you sighed, pressing closer to her.

Her hands pushed your dress over your hips, letting it pool at your feet. You kicked it away before she swept you up into her arms. Your legs wrapped around her waist, your fingers tangling in her hair again as you tipped her head up. Leaning down, you kissed her deeply, your tongue in her mouth, tasting her.

When she placed you down on the side of the bed, she knelt in front of you, looking up at you with smouldering eyes and smirking lips. Her fingers were slow as they unbuckled your heels, fingers brushing over your skin in a way that had you trembling.

“You’re so beautiful, darling,” she murmured, “do you really want this?”

“God, yes, Kate. Fuck, if you don’t do this I’m going to be so angry,” you said.

“Well, I can’t have that,” she said.

Her lips skimmed over your calf, teasing you as she took her time to reach the apex of your thighs. Her mouth ghosted over your underwear covered core, humming when she realised you had soaked through them. Your fingers were tangled in her hair, pressing her closer as your legs spread further apart, trying to coax her closer.

Her fingers hooked in the waistband of your underwear, slow to drag them down your legs. She paused a moment, her breath ghosting over your heat, making your hips arch off the bed, begging her closer. She chuckled, eyes finding yours. Your mouth opened, ready to admonish her, cut off when her tongue swiped through your folds.

Your hips rose into her mouth as you fell back on the bed. The groan that fell from your lips felt filthy and her gratified answering groan had you tightening your fingers in her hair. She took her time, exploring you, tasting until you were breathless and begging her for more. She mostly ignored you, teasing you, dark eyes staring up your body as you clutched at your own breast, touching yourself until you were gasping for breath.

Her lips wrapped around your bundle of nerves, sucking, her fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs as she kept you spread out for her. Her name was a chant, a prayer, a moan as you urged her on. Fire was creeping through your veins, burning away the person you were before, leaving you a phoenix to rise from the ashes of your desire. Her tongue was insistent on you, making you gasp, hips rolling against her face as you chased your high.

It was the vibration of her moan that had a wave of pleasure breaking over you. The cry of her name from your lips was loud to your own ears but it was hard to care when her mouth was still on you and your orgasm was still singing in your veins.

You tugged on her hair, pulling her up your body, letting her press her lips to your skin along the way before you kissed her, tasting yourself on her tongue. Her hands were sure on your body, holding you tight as she kissed you, humming her approval as your legs curled around her waist.

“Why are you still dressed?” you mumbled against her lips.

“Because you’re not very effective at undressing me,” she replied.

“You distracted me,” you complained, pouting when she drew away from you.

“Hasn’t that been your problem for months now?” The corner of her lips pulled up and you knew she was teasing you but you still wrinkled your nose.

“Fine, then I won’t undress you as I let you distract me again,” you said, “I won’t even listen to you and just agree with anything you say.”

“Mm, I like the sound of that,” she murmured, swooping in to kiss you again.

It wasn’t until the morning, wrapped up in her arms, warm body pressed along your spine that you allowed yourself to consider the actual purpose of your trip again. Soft lips trailed over your shoulder, the hands on your body holding you in place against Kate’s body. You hummed, slow to roll over and look at her in the morning light. The light was warm, lighting her up like she was glowing from the inside out. Curling an arm around her neck, you nuzzled against her.

“I could get used to this,” you said.

“If we weren’t here for work, I’d suggest we stay right here,” she said, “all day in bed, nothing to interrupt, just giving in to any impulse we might have.”

“But we have to find an alien that is abducting people,” you said on a sigh.

Her hand skimmed down your body before she sat up, the covers pooling around her waist. Your eyes trailed over her body, considering everything you’d do if you were able to stay in bed all day with her. A very naked Kate Stewart was certainly a nice view to have first thing in the morning.

“Are you distracted again?” she asked.

“Can you blame me?” you asked, fingertips brushing along her spine.

“You’re insatiable,” she murmured, leaning down to kiss you again.

“Only for you,” you groaned when she pulled away.

“Come on,” she said, standing from the bed, “we have an investigation to finish.”

It was during your shower that it hit you. Not even bothering to grab a towel, you rushed back into the bedroom. Kate looked up from where she was bent over, putting on her shoe on the edge of the bed.

“If this is your attempt at convincing me to stay in for the rest of the day,” she said, standing, tongue dragging over her lower lip as her eyes traced over your wet body, “it’s working.”

“It’s Helen,” you gasped, grabbing her forearms.

“I’m not following,” she said, the lascivious look dropping from her face.

“Helen is the alien,” you said, “she took Elaine off during the ball last night. I saw them talking together. Donovan even told us she’d taken her away into a corner and couldn’t find her afterwards. And she kept trying to convince me to take a walk with her through the rose garden alone. I put her off by talking about you but she kept trying to get me alone.”

“What did you say about me? You know what, it doesn’t matter. Are you sure?” she asked.

“Positive,” you said, “it’s her.”

She pulled you in, a perfunctory kiss placed on your lips before she turned away, pulling out her mobile phone. You dried off, listening to her call in the rest of the team, explaining your theory to them. She turned, watching as you pulled on your clothes, the appreciative look obvious even from across the room. When she hung up, her eyes were dark and you were breathless.

“You’re brilliant,” she said, cupping both your cheeks and pulling you in for another kiss.

You laughed, muffled against her lips as your hands settled on her hips. It was warm and soft and so achingly good you never wanted it to stop.

“We should be downstairs when the team arrives,” she said, pulling away just enough to speak.

“Fine, but if we’re getting the train back to London I want a private compartment with you,” you said, tangling your fingers through hers.

“You can have whatever you want,” she promised.

Your eyes swept over her body and she chuckled, warm and throaty and you knew she knew exactly what you were thinking. Her arm slipped around your waist, directing you towards the door. You rested your head on her shoulder, snuggling into her side.

“We are definitely going to have to file paperwork with HR now,” she said.

“Fine, but you should know I’m going to be even more distracted now that I know for certain how good you are in bed,” you said.

“As you should be,” she chuckled, leaning down to kiss you again.

#kate stewart x reader #kate stewart #kate lethbridge stewart #kate stewart imagine #doctor who imagine

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nvoirs · 2 years ago

Text

Disclaimers: Cowgirl, missionary, !F recieving, public sex basically, !F gets ate out.

It had been almost a week since you and Leon had rescued Ashley from the psychotic cult, los illuminados, in rural Spain.

You both had made it back in one piece, even if you were both infected by the las plagas virus at some point during your journey through spain.

The president was absolutely delighted to know that the two of you had secured his daughter safely and brought her back home. In honour of doing so he had arranged a large fancy dinner party celebrating the both of yours accomplishments.

You were very appreciative you'll admit that but you weren't really a party person even if this was a formal one where of course everyone will behave.

Being a introverted person that kept to yourself you'd say you we're the complete opposite of Mr Kennedy here. He loved the attention, and his humour made people like him even more so.

Ever since he'd lent you his jacket back before you came home because it was super cold that night, you've been thinking about him. His jacket was still slung over your shoulders when he told you he could keep it. But you tried to protest, trying to explain to him that you had plenty of jackets to wear. He said he didn't want to hear it, and that it could also serve as a reminder of what you and him had been through. Thinking about that, you we're very sure that you did not want anything to remind you of that horrible place.

But it was leon. You'd admit you had feelings for him, and they had blossomed more during your mission in spain. You had no idea if he felt the same, because he flirts with everyone no different, just the same.

So when you had come to this supposed dinner party you had decided, you were going to wear his jacket and see if it elicited any reactions in him. You topped it on top of your dress that you wore, as you walked to your assigned sit next to him.

Leon's glance was indeed glued to you, or most likely his jacket. Oh, he did not expect that. It was kind of turning him on which wasn't a good sign being in public and all. His thoughts errupted his wants to stop this, and he imagined images of you underneath his figure. Wearing only his jacket, and getting absolutely wrecked by him.

"Please.. fuck me harder, i want it!" Your dreamself in leon's mind cried out.

leon however was snapped out of his refreshing dream of you when you excused yourself to use the restroom. Now was his chance. His chance to ask you privately if you felt the same as he did.

A few minutes after you had disappeared through the foyer trecking to the restroom. Leon also excused himself and decided to wait outside in the foyer for you.

When you came out from the restroom, you nearly tripped and fell from the shock you had from leon standing there.

"Fuck! Leon! What we're you doing?" You held your chest, hearing the thumping of your heart.

"I'm just stood here, what on earth do you mean?" Leon grinned, leaning his hand against the wall you stood you're ground on.

"I mean why are you here? Shouldn't you be entertaining the president or something?" You sighed pinching your nose, to be honest you were getting a little hot and bothered that he was so close to your face. The rapid beating of your little lovesick heart proved evidence for this.

"Yeah you're right I guess, but why're you wearing my jacket hm?" smirking, leon looked at your face that contorted in embarassment. Cute.

"Are you just being stupid or do you actually have amnesia? You told me to keep it" you shot back.

"That's right.. most people wouldn't wear it to a fancy place like this though.." he trailed of. He wanted to ask you, he wanted to ask you if you liked him. No, if you loved him.

"I'm just wearing it to cover my shoulders, c'mon leon stop being a douche and get back there" you gestured to the party down past the foyer.

"Kinda wanna see you in that jacket.. on it's own"

He finished looking into your eyes searching for any discomfort, anything that would make him put a stop to this all.

Your cheeks were dusted pink, you were flattered. You thought that maybe leon returned your passionate feeling towards him. You wanted to try something.

You yanked him by the belt forcefully, and collided your lips against his. He began to encourage the kiss. His right hand cupped your small face deepening the kiss, while his left slithered around your waist hugging it tightly.

Kisses in sync, it felt light and airy. But then it became something far darker and more lustful.

You pulled back, inhaling deeply. You'd done it, you kissed him first. You stared at him, but as your glance got lower you saw something quite.. humorous.

His hard on was streching against the fabric of his dress pants. You giggled, putting your hands on your hips.

"Oh? What's that there Mr Kennedy"

"Not quite sure myself, better fix it soon you brat" he looked at you with a venomous gaze.

Oh it's on. You grabbed leon by the arm making sure nobody saw the pair of you, entering the lavish restroom, probably the cleanest you'd ever seen, tugging him along to the very end stall which happened to be the most spacious, perfect for the lewd things you had planned.

"What are you-" you shushed leon, forcing him to sit on the ground, undoing his belt rapidly. You threw his belt to the ground, you could feel your panties becoming wet your clit ached for some contact.

"Strip." You commanded leon, pulling at his shirt.

"Sorry, but following a women's lead just isn't-" you sat directly on his lap, right on where he needed you most.

"Well this women isn't going to help you with your little problem then, is she?" You moved around slightly, causing leon to groan grabbing your hips to still you.

"Fuck, didn't know you'd be such a whore" leon pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it aside.

"Oh leon, I'm a lot more then that." Trailing your small hands across his broad back and chest. finding a precious spot on his neck you closed in and began to give him the love he deserved. You bit into his skin, sucking on it lightly swirling your tongue before pulling back.

The love bite stood out, telling all that he was yours and only yours. He moaned deeply, extremely turning you on.

"Fuck, I wanna touch you to baby" leon tugged at your dress. You admired the artwork of angry red hickeys you'd blossomed onto his rough skin.

"You wanna touch me hm?" You stood up, your hands squeezing his shoulders teasingly.

"Fuck yeah, sit on my face now." He demanded. It made you light hearted and giddy knowing that he was finally yours for the taking.

You hitched up your dress, brandishing the cute little thong you were wearing.

"You were wearing that this whole time? You knew this was gonna happen hm?" Leon smirked at your proud form.

"Well i wasn't entirely sure Kennedy, but i'm glad it worked out" sighing in relief once you slid of the thong, your wet as fuck pussy being exposed to the crisp air.

"C'mere" leon grabbed you by the butt, squeezing it in the process. He leaned against the wall, as you lowered your pussy onto his lovestruck face. You felt his nose poking you and you moaned, you started gyrating your hips against his pretty face. "Ohh leon yes!" You whined, but gasped when he grabbed you stopping you from moving anymore stopping your build up.

"Not so fast baby, your doing all the work" he planted your pussy back onto his face, and you let him get to work. His tongue worked wonders, as he licked stripes up and down your pussy folds. He sucked on your clit, the lewd slurping noises adding to the intensity. You let out a high pitched moan. "yeah i wanna here you cry like that, say my name baby"

He was devouring your cunt, making you lose all the sanity you had built up. You grabbed his golden hair, gripping at the roots. He began to rub your clit in fast little circles, quadrupling the pleasure instantly. Arching your back upwards, you cried out as you felt your climax approaching rapidly.

"Ah fuck leon! I'm gonna-"

Before you could finish you came gushing all over his face, but he continued to lick it up like icing on a cake. you gasped, become overstimulated extremely fast you were already approaching your second orgasm when he pulled away.

"What the fuck? why'd you stop" you hissed from the loss of contact.

"You can't cum again unless you help me with my little problem" chuckling he beckoned you over to his lap.

Swaying your hips slightly you sauntered your way over to him, plopping yourself straight onto his hard on. you felt it poking you, it was rock hard by now pretty painful to your guessing.

"What can I do to make you feel better Mr Kennedy?" smirking, you brushed his wild strands of hair out of his pretty face.

"I want you to fucking ride me right here right now" he groaned, feeling the weight of your bare pussy on his cock.

"I didn't know you were into cowgirls" you purred, you got of of him and began to pull down his underwear. his cock sprung free, and you looked at its oh so delicious tip. it was completely covered in his precum, the tip a blushed colour that had you humming with satisfaction.

"Now let your cowgirl ride you." you grinned, lowering your ass as your pussy came in contact with his cock. you slowly slid down on him, making him groan.

"Fuck your so tight, god damn" he could feel you wrapped around him, squeezing onto him for dear life. he pulled the top of your dress down, exposing your tits as you moved up and down in fast little motions.

"Fuck no bra either?" he moaned, licking his lips before grabbing one of your breasts licking and kissing the delicate bud. to far gone into the pleasure his cock was giving you, you struggled to respond your chest heaving up and down. the wet noises that your cunt made as you bounced on his cock were music to his ears. heavenly he could say, grabbing your other nipple and twiddling it with his rough padded thumb.

He admired you struggling to take his cock, the cute little bump his cock made indenting your stomach. "ah leon.. you feel so.. so good!" you managed to cry out. this made leon snap, grabbing you by the hips he began slamming you up and down. Up and down his cock making you squeal and mewl begging for more. you were his own personal toy, his little cocksleeve he could use whenever he god damn well pleased.

"Yeh, you like that you slut?" Leon could tell you were close to releasing, removing one hand of the bruising grip of your hips he spanked your ass it slowly changing to a bright ruddy red. it stung but pleasure coursed through your whole body while he gave you the most exquisite pounding of your life.

You released all over Leon's stomach, the opaque liquid glistening. "shit, that was hot" he flipped you in reverse, so he was on top. pinning you to the cool tiles, he started to drill into you. he chuckled when he saw your euphoric face, babbling you managed to speak up. "gosh I love you, I really do!" face tinged pink from this 'workout' you started leaving thin scratch marks across Leon's back.

"What was that angel? I didn't hear you"

"I said I love you!" you practically yelled it, Leon clamped a big hand over your mouth. didn't want the whole fucking world knowing you guys were fucking in the restroom next door.

"Your my favourite.. you know that?" Leon questioned you, his hips beginning to slow and stutter.

"M-mine to!"

"I'm your favourite to?" staring at you nodding fast, he let out a guttural groan before releasing deep inside you.

Collapsing in your hold, he hugged your form.

"That was the best I've ever had" you sighed, embracing him back.

"The best sex? Oh sweetheart there's so much more I could do." Still inside of you, Leon pecked your cheek.

"Did you really mean that you love me?" His serious face made you laugh.

"Leon! Of course I've liked you for the longest time.. but I didn't know how to say" he stroked your hair, finally pulling out of you.

"Well that makes two of us.. and I love you to" his warm skin contacted with yours making you feel at home.

"So why don't we get the hell out of here, make an excuse that your sick or something" you suggested.

"Great plan.. your gonna be the sick one though, got to be the gentleman you know?" he winked, you returned a gleeful smile holding him dearly close.

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy smut #resident evil #resident evil smut #leon scott kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy #leon s kennedy x you #re x reader #resident evil 4 #re4make #re4 leon #re4 leon smut

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midnightscramble · 4 months ago

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unsure if you’ve already been asked this or it’s planned but would love to see a part 3 for good luck, maid! if you’re open to it 😆 not picky about what’s in the plot but might be cool to get a situation that forces either one to confess their attractions to each other ☺️

Good Luck, Maid! Part 3 (Violet Bridgeton x fem!Reader)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

The Masterlist

Author’s Note: I only write based on requests left in my inbox, this is the first formal request, and thank goodness for it, I was itching to write more for Violet! Thanks for the detailed ask (if it's not to your liking feel free to request again, don't be shy!) Happy readings to you.

Summary: Violet implores a friend to find out the circumstances around Y/n's previous employment. Y/n and Violet have another accidental meeting late at night. Violet's feelings manifest.

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, smut, touch starved Violet, fingering (Violet receiving), technically they do it in public, period typical homophobia, brief discussion of skewed power dynamics, no Beta read

Lady Danbury had been quick to agree to Violet's request for tea, and by midday they sat across from each other in the Danbury estate's drawing room.

After the exchange of usual pleasantries and talk of bubbling gossip around the Ton, Lady Danbury had surmised the true purpose of their meeting. "I take it you are ready to discuss the unspeakable?" Palming her cane in one hand and delicately bringing the teacup to her lips, Agatha raised her eyebrows in her usual prompting fashion.

Violet suddenly went to stand. Wringing her hands together she walked towards the piano, admiring the vase of flowers which sat upon it. She nervously rearranged them and cleared her throat, "Yes, it seems as though I have developed uh, how do I phrase this..." Violet turned to look at her. Patient as ever, Lady Danbury raised her chin and let a soft smile grace her lips.

"I have developed feelings for a member of my staff."

Lady Danbury threw her head back and cackled in response, "By the way you were behaving, I had thought you were going to say you had developed feelings for a criminal of some kind. To have feelings for a member of staff, while frowned upon publicly, is surprisingly common. Nothing to be embarrassed about, Dear." It never ceased to surprise her the shame that Violet Bridgerton would inflict upon herself for being like the rest of high society.

Inhaling through her nose and feeling her eyes start to sting, Violet lowered her gaze to the ground, "And if these feelings were criminal, then what, Agatha?"

Humming, Lady Danbury pondered the question. "You are no criminal, Violet..." She put her teacup on it's dish. Sitting forward with both hands on her cane, she motioned for Violet to sit on the couch across from her.

Violet sat and smoothed her dress as Lady Danbury openly stared at her. "Violet, do you mean to tell me that you are experiencing a liking of the fairer sex?"

By instinct, Violet opened her mouth to deny such a notion and then swallowed the words before they could escape, and instead answered with a simple "Yes." The woman across from her lent back in consideration. Briefly, they sat in silence.

"You are right. In this country, if you were to even speak of such things, it would be reprehensible by the law. However... in this house, such is not the case," she reached forward and grabbed Violet's hand, "You are no criminal to me, Violet, regardless of what society may say."

Choking on a sob, Violet covered her mouth with her free hand. "Thank you, Agatha. You have no idea how dear you are to me," she sniffled and tried to collect herself, "I was worried you would not find me suitable for your company once I told you."

Releasing her grip on Violet's, Lady Danbury spoke light heartedly "Nonsense. You may worry no more. Now, tell me, who has caught your eye?" Violet chuckled lightly, of course the woman would not be concerned with the controversy of the matter at hand, always more keen to hear the details of romance.

"Eloise's maid, we had to let go of mine, and Miss Y/n replaced her" Her cheeks tinted pink as she continued, "Just last night we had an encounter in the kitchen. I was restless and wandering and there she was. We spoke and it was as if we really saw each other. By the way she looked at me, it was almost as if she could see through me."

"And you are sure she was not looking through your night dress?" Lady Danbury laughed at Violet's Gasp.

"Oh Agatha, you are terrible," Violet swatted at Lady Danbury and they fell into a fit of laughter.

Once they regained composure Lady Danbury wondered out loud, "You seem quite taken with her, and with such haste, how is that possible?" Violet nodded in understanding, she had been wondering the same thing herself.

"I can't be sure, I find myself thinking of her frequently. It has become undeniable. In fact, I find myself concerned with her well being..." Violet looked imploringly at her friend, "Particularly her past."

Narrowing her eyes at Violet's words, Lady Danbury felt a smugness settle within her. She knew that Violet was tempting her with a challenge, and oh, how she loved to play games. But of course, this was mostly to help quell Violet's anxieties, not flex her own societal prowess.

"What do you know of her already"

...

The sun had set in the Ton by the time Violet returned home. The chilled night air prompted the fireplaces to be lit and extra blankets to be spread across beds. Although satisfied with her day and comforted by the support of her friend, Violet was still buzzing with anxious energy.

Knowing she would be tired the next day if she did not seek rest soon, she decided to brave the cold wood floors with bare feet in an effort to get to the study. She would read herself to exhaustion if she had to. Descending the grand stairs she squinted through the darkness, overhearing giggles coming from another corridor. Focusing, she made the voices out to be Hyacinth and Gregory, no doubt snooping through the letters that Colin had sent Anthony about his travels. She smiled softly, and listened to their childish joy, until the sound of the study door creaking open forced her to veer down the opposing hallway.

Colliding with something, she gasped. Strong hands gripped her waist, and they tumbled towards the wall as her own hands landed upon lean shoulders. Y/n pulled Violet flush against her, in an effort to keep them both from falling. With a shaky release of breath and heart beating out of her chest, Violet's eyes flickered across Y/n's face.

As Y/n went to move away, Violet's grip tightened, her fingers flexing into the material of Y/n's uniform as she steadied herself. Her heartbeat had slowed slightly, but not settled as the excitement of their position dawned upon her.

The woman's eyes took in the pink dusting of Violet's cheeks and quickly dilating pupils. Violet's hands shook as she slid them across Y/n's shoulders and toward her neck. With bated breath she waited for a response of any kind. Would Y/n push her off, tell her she was as bad as the Lord she worked for before, and leave the Ton in fear of Violet ruining her? Before her thoughts could spiral anymore, she felt Y/n's hold on her waist loosen and her hands migrated up towards the sides of her breast, stopping before making contact. With the slightest of pressure on her ribcage, she was guided backwards a few inches until she was pressed against the wall.

Shooting forward, she brought their mouths together. Every thing she had imagined in no way measured up to the soft caress of Y/n's lips against her own. With one hand she cradled the side of Y/n's face, smoothing the apple of her cheek with her thumb as she tried to commit the very feel of the woman to her memory. Her other hand grasped at her neck like an anchor.

With greater confidence, Y/n snaked her hand inward and cusped the woman's breast, causing Violet to release a gasp into the kiss. She slowly swiped her tongue across Violet's lower lip and gently prodded into her mouth. Y/n ran her thumb over Violet's raised nipple, feeling it tighten at her ministrations.

Despite the cold night air, Violet's skin was hot to the touch and the all too familiar warmth of arousal grew in her lower belly. Her legs clenched together in need as she tried to relieve the aching. Once Y/n noticed Violet's squirming she broke the kiss and lowered herself slightly to lick and suck at Violet's neck. Perfectly positioned as to not break contact, Y/n dropped her hands to Violet's legs. Through the soft fabric of her nighty, Y/n felt her way from the outside of Violet's leg to the inner crease of where they strongly pressed together. She swiftly parted them with force, filling the space with her own leg. Violet sighed heavily and let her head thud against the wall as she tried to catch her breath. Not allowing the woman a moment of reprieve, Y/n's hands wrapped around her waist and forced her upon her leg. Violet's hips involuntarily bucked at the first contact, and a hearty moan clawed its way out of her throat.

Overwhelmed by the sensation, she dropped her forehead to Y/n's shoulder and breathed heavily. She could feel the slick of her arousal cling to her night dress at the point where Y/n's leg pressed into her. She could hardly believe herself, rutting into the other woman like a wild animal, out in the open, with only the protection of darkness. She flushed at her own indecency. Y/n tugged on her nightgown, causing her breasts to become exposed. Her head shot up as she quickly searched the hall, it was useless, the pitch black of night was thicker than tar. Lips enclosed around her nipple, licking softly at the peak and then tugging it sharply with teeth. She yelped and immediately bit into Y/n's shoulder to quiet herself. Breathing through her nose, she felt Y/n's fingertips drag the bottom of her nightgown up towards her. With great anticipation, she felt Y/n gently remove her leg from between her thighs and continue the slow drag of fabric upwards.

She raised her head and met the other woman's eyes, "Please, touch me, I-" Y/n's hand cupped her radiating sex and she ground the heal of her palm into the Violet's clit and traced the opening of her lips. Not knowing what to do with herself, she laid soft kisses on the column of Y/n throat, mewling slightly as Y/n's fingers entered her wetness. Her eyes shut as Y/n rhythmically entered her, her own clenching creating a delectable drag when Y/n removed her fingers.

"Ohh, please, Y/n please," Violet begged in a whisper. She whimpered as Y/n's pace increased and her fingers started to curl into her as if she were searching for something. And indeed she was, Y/n felt for the spongy texture of her walls and ran her finger tips against it with pressure. Violet nearly choked at the sensation, even with all her experiences with Edmund, she had never felt such delight. Her legs closed, as if she were worried Y/n would suddenly remove herself. Violet's mind became hazy as she lost herself in their love making. She could feel Y/n everywhere, Y/n's mouth had consumed her entirely, her long fingers had graced her insides, and she was sure that the woman had somehow penetrated her mind.

Her hips began to stutter and Y/n could tell she was close. She watched Violet's face contort in pleasure as she played her like an instrument and listened for the beautiful music she emitted. Her gasps and whines were enough encouragement for Y/n to double her efforts and add another finger. Violet's back arched and Y/n could feel her walls quake with her release. Slowing her ministrations, she continued to guide her through the entirety of her completion.

Once she was sure Violet had finished, Y/n gently removed her fingers but kept one hand flush with her still pulsing sex and the other moved hair out of her face. Violet looked at her owlishly, face burning from the activity. She looked something out of the paintings that her and Lady Danbury had par-oozed the day she admitted her desperation for touch; breasts proudly displayed and nipples now raised by the cool air, skin reddened with arousal and hair tousled from the friction of the wall.

"We should go to my room, and talk," Violet offered breathlessly.

...

Back in the safety of her room, Violet offered Y/n a nightgown to change into. Sitting on the bed, she watched as Y/n undressed in front of her. All the bravado she had moments ago vanished, and she sat on her hands to keep herself from reaching out. When the other woman finished changing, Violet opened the bed invitingly, "Since I have no obligations tomorrow and you are the only one permitted to enter my room, you can stay the night and we will be unbothered." She smiled softly and Y/n smiled back.

Her heart fluttered with contentment as Y/n climbed into bed and opened her arms to the other woman. With her head laid on Y/n's chest, Violet released a deep breath as she settled. Her eyes began to close in relaxation until a thought crossed her mind, "was that your first time with a woman?"

"No," Violets chest tightened and her heart picked up as she listened intently, "The last house I worked for, the Lady and I became close..." Their earlier conversation came to the forefront of Violet's mind as this new information clicked into place. It was not a Lord per say who had misused Y/n, but a Lady. A Lady who Y/n undoubtedly got caught with and thus came the termination of her employment.

Her hand went to Y/n's, "It is quite a miracle you are here today," Violet thanked her guardian angels for bringing Y/n safely to her. Of all the things that could have happened to Y/n, for her to only lose a job rather than her head was an act of divine intervention.

"It is, it really is. I heard that the Lord of the house had actually passed recently, and now there are only three people who know this secret, including you and I." Violet hummed, her eyes slipped closed and right before sleep took her an offhanded thought drifted through her mind, she vindictively wished that number would be reduced to two.

...

Violet and Y/n awoke as a knock sounded on Violet's door. Startled, Y/n leapt out of bed, ducked towards the ground and shimmied underneath it. Violet's heart raced as she dawned a robe and opened it just a crack.

Before her stood Hyacinth with a letter in hand, "Mama, you have been asleep all day," she drawled, "I know you haven't been sleeping well, however I figured you should sleep no longer as we have received word," the young girl shoved the letter towards her mother, "that Colin and Penelope will be returning from their honeymoon this afternoon."

"Oh, thank you Hyacinth-"

"And I took it upon myself to invite the Featheringtons over to celebrate their arrival. It is rather perfect timing, Eloise and Francesca are yet to leave so we will have ample conversation. I have alerted the staff of all preparations needed, don't worry a thing Mama," She leaned forward and kissed her mom on the cheek before skipping off. Violet scoffed and closed her door.

"It turns out I do have obligations." The women laughed at Hyacinth's behavior. Y/n got out from under the bed, and immediately started to arrange Violet's outfit for the day.

...

Calling hour arrived and Lady Danbury swiftly made her way through the long halls of the Bridgerton estate. Her heels struck menacingly against the wood floors. The butler guiding her to the drawing room felt as though if he did not keep pace with her, she would strike him with her cane.

“Lady Bridgerton you have a caller, the fine Lady Danbury is here.”

“Let her right in, thank you.” Violet stood from the couch and clasped her hands in front of her. She was sure her friend would have quite the shock when she told her of last night’s tryst with Y/n. The moment Lady Danbury had crossed the threshold, Violet could tell the woman was eager to speak.

“Violet, thank goodness I have caught you alone. I found out about your...friend's previous employment.” Violet cocked her head to the side, she had such a blissful morning with Y/n that she had nearly forgotten about the wild goose chase she had sent Lady Danbury on.

"Oh, what did you discover."

"She was working for the-" a footman cleared his throat as he entered the drawing room.

"My Lady, the Featheringtons have arrived." He announced. Violet nodded and waited for him to exit before resuming the conversation.

"You were saying Agatha?"

"Well that’s just it. The Featheringtons."

#violet bridgerton x reader #violet bridgerton x maid reader #violet bridgerton x you #violet bridgerton x female reader #violet bridgerton fanfiction #violet bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction

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alnilaem · 9 months ago

Text

a toxic ghoap wip i had in my drafts from months ago but will no longer be continuing. i just wanna dump it here lol

cw for misogyny, smut, (internalized) homophobia, hedonism, sacrilege, prostitution mention, ghost is an ass

pls heed all tags, this was a vent fic, and also bare in mind im never gonna finish this lmao

Johnny's world is asymmetrical.

His world. His beginning and his end. Humvees and Dauphin 2 helis and deployments around the globe. Undercover operations, saving women and children, the comforting carbon steel of a rifle in his hands.

It’s an unspoken stigma, but it’s there. Materialising as insults while his lads take the piss out of each other, and in the form of dishonourable discharges.

The stigma has always been there. It has no start and no finish, so Johnny can’t remember where it came from, but he knows it was there since primary, where boys would kick girls at the bends of their knees and yank on their pigtails, squatting to the floor to get a look-see up their chequered skirts and cackle, all while Johnny stood off to the side, overtly uncomfortable.

Mum’s complained. Teacher’s were involved. Dad’s simply said, “Boys will be boys,” and the situation was brushed under the carpet.

The stigma tailed Johnny into secondary school. His older cousin lent him a suit for formal, which prompted Johnny awkwardly standing on his doorstep with his date—a pretty lass named Rory—as his mam snapped a spate of photos.

Johnny’s disposition was a grave juxtaposition to Rory’s. She was all grins and giggles, cantered into Johnny’s arm, while he was inelastically poised with tight lips.

His mam wouldn’t stop pinching his supple cheeks, trying to shepherd a smile out of him. She gave up, throwing her hands in the air and wheedling them off the porch, tacking on an ornate, “Have fun, kiddos!” as they pooled into Johnny’s scrap metal car.

Johnny felt as if he was lacking something. As if his wings had been clipped by the world a little too soon. It’s always been like that. A piece of him plucked from his wracking ribs and stolen, ever since he was a little boy. So in a lapse of judgement, in order to prove himself, to shatter the bubbling stigma, Johnny sought out the most masculine thing to offset his failure: follow in the steps of his cousin, and enlist.

It was a rashly undertaken decision, but a decision he stuck with, because, for the first time in forever, Johnny’s old man clasped his shoulder in pride.

But stigma was an incessant little thing. Because even in military school, it followed him closely. As Johnny’s school brothers had Playboy rafts and pin-up girls folded into their pillow cases, he would blunder upon being asked, “Who’d ye shag?” by his mate.

In boot camp, he was a lowly private, whose hands would jade and cramp from cleaning rifles. They gave him blisters. And so his bunkmate—a nice lad from Glasgow with a crooked nose—would tend to his fingers during their lunch routine. Hidden somewhere in the corner, making jokes about their Drill Instructor. Callum, was his name. He’d swathe Johnny’s hands in gauze and garnish it with a lopsided smiley face. It always sucked, fell apart half way, but he did it anyway.

That’s when Johnny started blistering his hands on purpose.

Wedging his thumb in the dip of a garand and not pulling it out until it was swollen. Then he’d snivel, seeking Callum out in their barracks. There was a pull in Johnny’s stomach, half of an ebb that finished Callum’s flow. It would give him rashly undertaken ideas—such as fixing his hand in the lid of an armoury shell—for Callum to fix up. Johnny would find him among their other friends, beseeching with his cobalt eyes, holding out a hand.

In enlistment, his confusion ripened into a gravely miscalculated realisation. That it wasn't an affinity for men Johnny wanted to be—to attract ladies with his chest candy and the brandished title of military man—no, it reared its ugly head when Johnny finally became his own private. Grinning, at the time, clean-shaven and giddy as his mother snapped a spate of photos of him saluting in his new uniform, plaintively whining when she reached out to adjust his garrison cap because “It’s lopsided, pumpkin!” To which Johnny, under the searing gaze of his fellow privates, would clip, “‘Cos it’s meant to be like tha’, ma!”

Johnny didn’t know when it started. He just remembered realising how good Callum looked one day at the range—sweat sluicing down his pale neck, disappearing behind his lapels, ass filling out the space of his pants as he would squat to the ground and aim for the faraway target. Before he knew it, Johnny was seizing lights out. Using the time to sneak off to the bathrooms and cramp a fist around his leaking cock, beating his dick to the thought of him. Him, him, him.

Johnny’s sordid thoughts didn’t emulate what his granny had planned for him—to pass down her old wedding stack once he “Found the right lass,” to bring home to her; it wasn’t what the Orthodox spiels of sermons and hymns and praise on Sunday’s drilled into him; it wasn’t what his uncle was anticipating—“Got a girlfrien’ yet, Johnny-boy? Ah, why’re ye frowning! Soon enough, ye will.”

His fantasies rivalled those of his squadmates. Because on his first tour, a summer ten years ago in the chilly expanse of Northern Ireland was a woman that approached them. Denim skirt and a mulberry red halter top. Kitten heels, sunglasses. Shiny lipgloss. She tried to ply them by batting her eyes, offering her services. She was smart. Military men always paid. It’s the desperation that got to them most of the time, a tinge of worry, and a hint of entitlement. They took the bait. Rode her back to camp and took their turns with her.

When it was Johnny’s turn, he listlessly declined and hung his head. He said he had a lass waiting for him back home—Rory—that’s the first name that popped in his head. His secondary school girlfriend in which he sobbed on when he tried kissing her. Johnny said he had a bird, just like all his other lads, with pictures of their wives and girlfriends pinned to the massive cork board in the middle of their camp. But they had no problem indulging themselves.

They were shoving him around, calling him all sorts of names, bullying him into following them. And that’s when Johnny caved. A cacophony of hollers flared out around him as he ducked into the tent where the woman lay, thin bed sheets hiked up to her collarbones, her previous lipgloss smeared over her chin.

Johnny said, “Hi, how are you?” Because that’s what his mother taught him. She softly giggled.

Not at him, but with his overdue respect.

Johnny shucked off his uniform with trembling hands, mounting her with his dick flaccid and stomach flipping. He remembers ruminating, “Why don’t you like it? You should like it. Love it,” but his heart leapt to his throat and his navel twisted, heart seized as the head of his cock kept slipping around her messy opening, poking her thigh. His throat constricted, dry, then slackened. A muffled sob wracked through him. Barely concealed by the threshold of his thin lips. He pushed his tongue into the roof of his mouth and buried his face in the crook of her neck, collapsing into her bare chest, furiously wiping his tears into the inflatable mattress.

Then, the body beneath him quivered. Johnny hoisted himself up, a spiel of apologies curling off of his tongue, when he realised she was crying too. The same type as him—wrung out, jaded, tired. She blindly reached out for him and pulled him close. Not reaching for his dick nor biting sensual whispers into his ear. They held each other for a little while, coalescing as their cries muffled into each other’s skin. Then, she pushed him off. Slid off the mattress and snaked her into her clothes.

They both left the tent shaking. She was still sniffling. His lads cheered as she walked away and clapped him on the back.

That’s when Johnny realised there wasn't a place for him in his world. Johnny shrunk himself, half the light he used to be, pushing himself into a little box as his world around him clipped off his wings.

Now, Johnny’s world consists of something a little different.

Something sinewy and rough around the edges. Gruff, but tactical. Calm, akin to the placid sea, but could flip a switch and emulate its choppy waters if he wanted to, too. Big, striking, with eyes that could kill a sailor. A deep timbre mandated by Manchester. Wide-set shoulders but a willowy waist, hips that sway as he walks. A macabre mask and skeletal gloves—ones that have Johnny wrapped tightly around his fingers.

Johnny grew into himself between serving in the parachute regiment to selection for the SAS. He got rougher. Learned how to hide himself better. Perfectly fit himself within the Task Force, around men who would become his best friends and brothers. He’s otherwise your normal guy. Goes to the bar with the team when they’re able. Shooting darts with Gaz (“You’ve got a Marksman badge but can’t score more than two points? C’mon, mate…”); pool with Price; and drinks with Ghost.

Beer always sloshes over the lip of Ghost’s glass when they clink their drinks. It crashes up and over the Brit’s fingers, dripping down his hands, between his thick fingers. Johnny always resists the urge to lean in close and lick the wash of alcohol glistening Ghost’s knuckles.

But they’re just friends. Apparently. Because friends don’t fuck.

It started way down in Chicago’s heart, after another op. Gaz—ever the exploiter of his puppy eyes—managed to ply Price into stopping at a bar instead of heading straight back to base for paperwork. So they stopped at a little hole-in-the-wall, still rife with adrenaline, spreading out and all doing their own thing.

Johnny and Ghost were sat around a rickety table with wobbly legs. A spread of peanut shells around them and sticky rings of alcohol from their glasses glossing the surface. Ghost raised an arm to wipe his eyes, knocking over Johnny’s beer in the process. An expletive crossed the Brit’s tongue and he apologised, grasping a fistful of napkins and scrubbing it over Johnny’s soaked shirt.

It ebbed and flowed in long, rough strokes. Ghost’s hand gliding over Johnny’s legs, Ghost’s middle finger and thumb snapped around Johnny’s thigh, his grasp cutting into the sinews.

It wasn’t that different from suturing a teammate up after a mission. But with the unsaid admiration Johnny had for him, tempered by the hint of alcohol on the roof of his mouth and the hazel canopy of Ghost’s lashes, over his focused eyes, arousal quickly seized Johnny.

Ghost’s hand brushed over a tent on Johnny’s jeans. One that hadn’t been there before. He cut his next stroke from the root, pausing, and blinked up at his friend.

The Scotsman felt a wound up spring in his stomach. He turned away, smacking Ghost’s hand, and ran a hand through his black tuft of hair, slapping both sides of his shaved heads. He felt his lungs betray him—squeezing like dried fruit and refusing to expand—to yield to his sudden heavy breathing and quick succession of heartbeats.

Johnny shook his head. Sputtering. “Lad, y’know, sometimes we can’t control ‘em–”

The words died on his tongue when Ghost flattened hand against the bend of his knee. He was testing the waters.

Johnny looked back, gulping, and took the bait. He inched his knee closer, until it met with Ghost’s thick leg. It’s something he’s done so many times. When he was starved for friction but couldn’t make it overtly obvious—grazing Ghost’s hand passing him a flare; knocking his foot under the table during debrief (“Sorry, lad,”); applying extra gauze to a slice in his torso just to feel Ghost’s chest throb below his fingers a little more.

But this is different. Something Johnny’s chased for so long. A tangible ghost on his tongue for a flavour he’s longed for with just fantasies while he fucked his fist late into the night.

Ghost tightened his hold on Johnny’s thigh. “Sons of bitches, ain’t they?”

His voice was taut. As was the muscle between Johnny’s shoulders.

They exchanged a glance. Soundless, but not wordless. Then Ghost slunk his hand down and wrapped it around Johnny’s swelling cock.

The feeling of it—a sensation so foreign, so yearned for—penetrated Johnny’s core. It made him yelp and jerk his knee into the table, sending more beer spilling over the rim of his glass and onto his pants.

Ghost hummed, shook his head. “C’mon, Johnny, let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” And he inclined his head towards the bathroom in the back.

Johnny blindly nodded, yielding to Ghost’s hold as he hoisted him from his seat. Ghost directed them through the sea of gyrating bodies and towards the toilets. They bursted inside, and the Brit pulled Johnny into the last stall. A seedy little thing, with graffiti and the ash of cigarette butts welded into its walls.

The succeeding acts were a blip in the streamline of Johnny’s memory. He remembers Ghost shucking his pants down, then settling himself behind him. He remembers Ghost’s gloveless hand reaching around and working over his drooling cock. He remembers a voice in his ear, “What the fuck are we doing,” and a bulbous cockhead poking his ass. He remembers the shrill rattle of the stall hinges as he withered against it, trembling under Ghost’s deft hands, the finger that swept over the slit of his cock and slipped down to fondle his balls.

Before white-hot pleasure seared his vision, Johnny remembers emptying his come into the crotch of his denims, shaking, as it dampened his pants and as Ghost commanded him to pull it back up.

They left the bar alongside each other, meeting everyone else on the pavement. Johnny’s lips were popped open and swollen. Peeling, from how his teeth had sunk into them. His eyes were glossy and his hair was tousled in the middle of his head. He had a wet patch on his jeans.

“Oh, you are pissed, mate,” Gaz exclaimed, “I– that’s pee?”

“Spilled some water,” Ghost lied to the other teammates, “had to sort him out.”

They made it back to base within hours, signing off to their quarters.

The next day, Johnny didn’t see him at all.

The day after that, too; Ghost didn’t even spare him a glance.

He tried reassuring himself. Ghost hadn’t talked about men before—not in this calibre—so Johnny told himself it’s because he was digesting what rashly happened in Chicago.

That was, until, he was paged one night. A command from Ghost to meet him in his quarters. The message was succinct: one sentence, leaving no lines to be read between. Johnny walked ambled to his room with his heart in his stomach and his blood rushing to his ears. Nudging the door open, Ghost was on the edge of his bed, legs parted, smarting denim-washed jeans and a black pullover. A simple, soft gauze balaclava.

His eyes slid upwards first. Then the rest of his head. Ghost pinned Johnny under his smouldering gaze, then beckoned him forward with the tilt of his head. No words were swapped. Ghost simply tugged Johnny forward, between his thick thighs, and bullied the Scotsman to his knees with a hand splayed over his half-shaved head.

Johnny’s eyes widened. He popped his lips open to speak—lips Ghost whispers his thumb over to seal shut, uprooting his words from its step. Ghost shook his head, undid his belt with a single hand, and shucked down his jeans. He palmed himself for a while, watching Johnny’s eyes sheen over, before pushing his boxer-briefs scarcely over his meaty thighs, pinching the head of his cock.

Ghost didn’t even bother pulling his balls out. Just his dick—long, thick, a comely vein running beneath it—better than anything Johnny’s ever wanted. Better than the images he’s fucked his fist to, memories of Ghost, freshly out of the shower after sparring, his thin towel outlining the barest hint of his dick.

Johnny reaches out, but Ghost swipes it back. He tuts and softly smacks his cock against Johnny’s ruddy cheek, watching as a string of his precum connects to Johnny’s face.

“How bad do ya wan’ it, Johnny?” Ghost had prompted, swiping his cockhead over the Scotsmans lips, then pulling it back whenever his jaw readily slacked.

“Real… real bad, Lt.” He breathed.

Ghost tapped his cheek again. “Open.”

And so Johnny did. Like it was second nature, like he’s been wanting for so long. Waiting for so fucking long.

Johnny’s lips popped open and closed around Ghost’s wet tip. He swirled his tongue around it, clumsy in his movements, teeth grazing Ghost’s skin.

He winced. “Easy…”

Johnny blinked in a rapid succession, nodding, sucking him in a little deeper, mindful of hollowing out his cheeks and relaxing his jaw. Ghost’s eye twitched, hands digging into his tuft, hanging his head back, softly bucking his hips up into Johnny’s mouth.

“Atta boy, Johnny, fuck– where the fuck’d you learn this, eh?”

Johnny replied with a gargled purl of precum and saliva coalescing in his mouth, gagging over the wide girth splitting his jaw open. Ghost laughed, his gloved hand settling on the scruff of Johnny’s neck, pulling him a little closer; sinking his cock a little deeper, rutting his pelvis into his squadmate's pliable mouth.

Ghost cums. Johnny laps it all up. And in an undertaken lapse of judgement, rises to his feet, puckering his frosted lips, ready to hike Ghost’s balaclava above his nose and share his taste with him. But Ghost set a hand to Johnny’s face, shaking his head. He tucked his softening cock back into his pants.

That was the first instance Johnny disregarded. One he ignored in favour of indulging himself in something he yearned after for years. He didn’t realise his grave digging began there—when he witlessly nodded in response.

And from there, it became a cycle. It was always on Ghost’s call. Never Johnny’s. When Ghost wanted his dick sucked; when Ghost wanted a wet and tight hole wrapped around his cock. Johnny knew better. He knew he was being shepherded into something bad, but he couldn’t help himself.

Trembling under Ghost, his whole world encompassed by the Brit’s towering stature, was all that mattered to him. Getting spread over a cock he’s wanted for so long, a long ways from the taboo fantasies that’s collected cobwebs in his thoughts for so long.

Johnny was less of a teammate, more of an outlet for Ghost to exhaust his frustrations into. Even then, it was a pill Ghost had trouble swallowing. As if he’ll acknowledge it, and a relationship will materialise. So he stays still—fucks Johnny like a dirty little secret then turns the other way.

Johnny tries talking to him. Tries telling him he struggled with the same thing. That he isn’t alone and that he belongs here. That there’s no shame in it.

Simon collapses Johnny’s pleads with a final, resolute bark. “I ain’t gay, mate. You’re a friend helping a friend.”

basically it ends with Simon shepherding Johnny into some hedonistic, one-sided relationship. Johnny just accepts it bc if Simon wont love him, he’ll do it by proxy, because hes all fucked out and desperate for him🖤🖤

#my writing style here is so old and gross and clunky #ghost/soap #ghostsoap #soap/ghost #soapghost #ghoap #simon riley x john mactavish #ghost x soap #ghoap writing

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