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jimblejamblewritings · 7 months ago

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love letters and second sons | part 1.

Summary: The princess is finally ready to debut in society. But before she does, she decides to disguise herself and see the true faces of the ton.

Author's Note: Hello! Yes, I'm here with a wip before finishing my other stuff. The Bridgerton girlies have got me. Congratulations to you all. So before you read this, please read: I Hate Accidents by @i-hate-accidents AND Over The Garden Wall by @homeofthepeculiar AND The Ultimate Deception by @maximoff-pan. These stories are some of my favorites and really inspired this fic.

Warnings for the Series: light sexism in line with the times, light classism in line with the times, mental health stigma, shitty doctor care, smut, suicide attempt (will get it's own warning when the time comes),

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x princess!reader

Word Count: 5.4k

Author's Note: To those who have read my other works, you'll notice that the author Mercutio's stories are something special

My Dearest Ton and Wonderful United Kingdom,

I am pleased to welcome you all to the start of another social season. Of course, people love and look for love all year round but each year the season just seems to invite love to blossom. I hope all of you find the match to your souls. Marriage is a business but can it not have love as well? A business built with love surely must be a business that tries to last. I ask our respectful citizens and subjects of the United Kingdom to make love a part of their search.

I would also like to ask about businesses that do not involve marriage or love. How are you? In the business of health, is everyone safe from all sickness? In the business of finance, does everyone have enough to eat and clothe themselves without falling into poverty? Are businesses afloat even if only by a small margin? How are you? Truly, I want to know. If you would like to write to me, please do so. The royal mailboxes should still be in perfect condition.

Of course, if you have something urgent then I am sorry but you must come to the palace and request an audience. My valets hold all letters for a day or a few out of safety for everyone. But rest assured, I read every letter once received.

I would also like to say that I can feel the winds of the ton calling me to grace their presence and to stop being rude by ignoring them. Naturally, the wind is very rude to say this and then cut through my dress and chill my bones even when it is snowing. But I digress, the wind is right. The time for introduction must be soon. And a lovely time that will be. I cannot wait to meet you all.

Yours truly,

A Not So Young Anymore Youngest Princess Y/N Hanover (Truly, I need a proper surname and not just the name of my father’s house)

My Dearest Ton and Wonderful United Kingdom,

Would you like to know what I have learned yesterday? I know the Americas are still a touchy subject for some but I hope you don’t mind me talking about it, just to share my studies. Philadelphia is the center of American debate. So many great men (and women that have probably gone unnamed but aided their counterparts in their quest of education) have lived and are currently still living there.

Going to America simply for a debate sounds terribly dreadful. But what if we had one here that wasn’t relegated to just the universities. An entire city becoming a center of debate seems incredibly foolish, not to mention disruptive to its current residents, but buildings of debate do not seem like a bad idea.

Even if some feel like they aren’t smart enough, they should participate. Ideas are nurtured by sharing them. May some debates lead to great compromise and understanding and maybe even propositions for laws.

I, for one, debate with my father every day on which science is the most important to teach to young children and which science can wait until university should they like to pursue that path. He believes all of it. I believe that medicinal science is too much for a young mind and they only need to be taught how to mind their health until they can understand better. What do you think? I am delighted to hear your opinions. Maybe mine will be swayed.

Yours Truly,

Youngest Princess Y/N Buckingham (I am trying out new surnames until one I like sticks)

My Dearest Ton and Wonderful United Kingdom,

I apologize if my stance may be radical but nothing in society ever got done if the start wasn’t a little radical. I believe that young women should be properly taught about relations… let me just say it, sex. Not when they are children, no, but when they are about to debut. Consider it. You all know that as a royal, despite being a woman, I have been taught all things. Everyone is aware that I know what sex is. But if I and my sisters were taught sex so that we may be aware of malicious advances and be able to protect our virtue first rather than waiting for our virtues to be saved by someone and risk them being too late, then others should as well. Therefore, I implore all mothers and governesses to teach their young ladies about to debut what sex is. And to fathers who may be without wives, please find any woman to teach your daughters.

I shall return with more radical ideas for a better and more prosperous United Kingdom.

Yours truly,

Youngest Princes Y/N Kew

The printed letters delivered to London, had everyone enthralled in the early morning. Some people that lived close enough to the central town square didn’t bother with the prints and went straight to the wooden pin board there to look at the princess’ handwriting on the original letters. Whenever the Young Princess or the author Mercutio Quick wrote, people stopped and paid attention.

Princess Y/N was the people’s princess. The one who listened to their complaints and wasn’t cheap on her charitable acts. She was so much like her father, Farmer George. Even with his illness he still ran a good country… when he was in charge. So much better than her eldest brother, George IV. Then again, any royal sibling was better than their eldest brother, even if only by a very small percentage. Everyday the public hoped another child would challenge George the Younger. They would rally their support behind them.

They were hoping that any day George IV’s daughter, Charlotte, would have an heir. If she was pregnant then it would be so easy for the public to support her and convince either George IV to step down or convince Parliament to present a motion to King George. They would have a ruler and an heir. Charlotte the Younger would be the easiest transition for George IV to understand.

But neither her father nor husband seemed to care about the lack of heir. But the thought of succession and coups and duels was forgotten for a moment to read the Young Princess’ letters welcoming them to the new social season with new balls, debutantes, and drama.

In the Bridgerton house, the family ran around like chickens with their heads cut off. They were trying to get ready to present Daphne to the Queen while also trying to read the Young Princess’ letters. Benedict laughed as he slapped his copy of the letters.

“Mother would have a fit if she had to speak with Daphne about sex.”

“I’m surprised she would even suggest such a thing,” Colin said as he returned to reading the first letter, thinking he might actually write to the Young Princess about his familial concerns and wanting to travel desperately but being unsure about leaving them.

Eloise finally smiled as she came downstairs with the rest of her siblings. “I for one think it’s rather refreshing. She is right. Our mamas should be teaching us more than just how to meet the Queen… Daphne! You must make haste! Do you think she heard me?”

Colin rolled his eyes. “She most certainly did. But on the matter of the princess, what is wrong with a woman’s husband teaching her about sex?”

“Everything is wrong with that.”

“Hmm.”

He looked down to reread the paper, wondering if he could understand what the princess actually meant. Even though the letters were left at home, talk of the princess never ceased. How could it? The monarchy’s youngest princess might actually be joining them. Everyone wanted to know what she would look like, not in the face of course. Even her fourth brother didn’t take off his mask until after five months of being introduced to society and he was the shortest time it took to see the royal children’s face.

“Do you think she will be tall like her eldest sister or short? Plump?” Eloise asked as their carriages started their way towards the palace. “I’d imagine I’d be very lovely and plump if I could be stuck in a palace all day with the most wonderful food imaginable. Not that anyone should ever value a woman based on her body but Penelope has stated that her sisters are terribly upset because all the dress makers have started saying that plump is going to be in fashion once again in only a few years time and by the time they become plump it’ll be out of fashion again.”

Daphne looked out the window. “I wonder if she’ll look like the Queen or the King. Oh, what makeup do you think she’ll wear? What mask did she have created for herself? When do you think we’ll actually see her face?”

Violet touched the knees of all her girls. “Whatever she is like, do not be rude and gawk. The poor thing will already have the vultures’ eyes on her all night. If she even comes out tonight. Perhaps it will be at a ball this week. That would be quite a fantastic introduction. I do hope she at least meets us this season.”

Francesca smiled. “I imagine her dance card would be quite full.”

“She’d have bracelets of dance cards going up to her arm,” Daphne agreed.

“But she isn’t coming into society yet. She’s just introducing herself to us,” Eloise said.

“She’s still a princess royal. A very well-known one at that. There’s no way the men would pass on an opportunity to dance with her. They’d want to start making their intentions known now, get ahead of everyone else.”

The boys’ carriage was speaking of a different matter entirely. The princess and Mercutio had written to the ton at the same time. With the presentation to the Queen taking up so much of the day, most people wouldn’t be able to read his work until later that evening. Colin and Benedict simply couldn’t wait. Colin sat with his brother as he drove the carriage and read the story out loud:

“Arsehole,” Cecilia muttered.

Ignoring the sharp stinging of her backside, she hopped off the bed to find something to put on. All she needed to accomplish was getting back to her room, clothed. She knew there must have been some spare clothes in their dressers. It was just a matter of sorting through which garments were hers and which belonged to the others. She had been sorely mistaken to ignore the three members of nobility behind her, thinking they hadn’t heard her.

Lovell scrunched up his face, resembling a rat. “Is receiving another punishment something you really care for? Because this attitude you’ve acquired is going to earn you one.”

“Piss off.”

“Is that any way to talk to your dominants?” Madison asked, adjusting herself in Tommy’s arms.

Cecilia scoffed as she walked towards the door, placing one hand on the doorknob. “Lavender.”

The other three faces fell at the use of that forbidden word. Cecilia’s hand reached up ever so gently and wiped away tears. She wondered if the tears were for her former lovers or for finally realizing her mind was deluded to think she would be with anyone above her station such as Lovell.

“I don’t want this anymore.”

“Cecilia.”

“You never believe that I don’t enjoy breaking our established rules. You only listen to Madison.”

“Cecilia.”

“It is clear you both like her more than you desire me. I am down.”

“Cecilia.”

“You shall see me around this manor, doing my job as I always have. But that is the extent of our relationship.”

“Please, just give u—”

“Good day, Lord Parham. Lord Newall, Lady Wilcher.”

“Riveting,” Colin said as he finished reading. “Mr. Mercutio has done it again.”

Benedict nodded. “Indeed he has. I was a bit worried when he announced that he wanted to dabble in the themes of erotic pleasures in his stories but this was just as enjoyable as all the others.”

“Agree… Oh, it says here that they have earned a publishing deal. The penny stories will still come out once a week, chapter by chapter but readers can also purchase a book if they would like to keep the story properly or are in a rush to read it. I for one will be buying the books.”

“I second that.”

“I wonder what his next story will be about. Actually, no, I wonder what our dear sisters and mothers can be talking about.”

“The princess, no doubt.”

”Do you think any of our brothers will approach?” Eloise asked in the women’s carriage, more to herself than anything.

That made Hyacinth’s face light up. “If one of them marries the princess does that mean we get to be princesses too?”

“As if any of our brothers even could or want to.” Francesca pulled her face away from the window.

“If anyone is going to bring them to the marriage mart,” Daphne started as she fanned herself. “It would be the princess. Anthony would be a good match for her.”

Violet laughed, thinking of the idea. “A viscount and a princess are a perfect match.”

All talk of the princess stopped as they approached. The worst thing that could happen could be a footman overhearing them and mistaking their speech for malicious gossip rather than light-natured and report it to the princess or the queen or even worse, King George himself. They would forever be ostracized from society.

From upstairs, you watched from a window where you knew no one could see you even if they looked up. How you desperately wanted to be down there. All the men were dressed up and looking like penguins. Handsome they were but still penguin-like in silhouette. And the women’s dresses. Some, while upper class, were of a lower social standing and wore older dresses that looked just as gorgeous as the empire and rather shapeless dresses of today.

But today was not your day. You actually weren’t sure when your day would be. Your mother and father let their children choose when they would be introduced to society. Of course you all had to wait for a certain age and it had to be a date at the start of the social season but you could pick the day. And unlike your last sibling, you wanted it to be at a ball instead of the selection of the Diamonds. You didn’t even care which ball it would be. Perhaps it was selfish but you did want a day all to yourself or at least a day with you as the main focus. But that wasn’t this year. Or any year perhaps.

You were excited to finally leave the walls of the palace if you were allowed, having proven yourself capable of not causing an incident. Unfortunately, you couldn’t say you had proven yourself without illness. You weren’t that lucky. You and all your siblings were locked inside until the royal physicians could observe and confirm that you weren’t sick with whatever madness your father had. They didn’t have to observe you. That was also why you picked a ball instead of today. You wanted to prove you didn’t need a chaperone literally holding your elbow. You wanted freedom like your siblings. Freedom to explore that you weren’t sure would get because of your illness.

After a nearly fatal drowning in the lake — an event your siblings still get chewed out for at least once a month — you started showing symptoms like George did. For you it wasn’t about if you would be as sick like your father. It was about how bad and how quickly the illness would get.

You didn’t get to see George as often as the others. The doctors thought you shouldn’t be around him for prolonged periods of time unless it was after an episode. They thought that too much exposure would make you more like him instead of better. They wanted to send him to Kew but you promised that you wouldn’t go to his quarters as long as he got to stay at Buckingham.

Charlotte, silly as it may have been, had hope. They caught your sickness early. Nine was a very young age to almost go mad. Maybe you could be saved from a cruel fate unlike George. They were too late for him but not for you. Of course this only brought jealousy from your siblings who didn’t feel like they got as much affection anymore. Every time you even twitched, it became about you. They could never hate you. It wasn’t like you asked to be sick. But it was hard to be around you. Everyday visits became once a week. Still, you cherished those visits. Like the one yesterday. They expressed their sympathies and hopefulness that you would get to introduce yourself and maybe it could even be this year or maybe this month.

You could have scoffed. After what you did just two days ago, you were unsure. The daylight came into your room before you were prepared for it and you had been convinced that Buckingham was on fire. You couldn’t be calmed down until you jumped into the water fully clothed. Immediately, you pulled yourself out of the trance but no one really cared. The royal physician had been called anyway and you had ruined all chances of attending the presentation to the Queen.

“Your Highness!” a voice disturbed your thoughts and your eyes from looking at your siblings’ carriages leave in the morning. Your lady-in-waiting approached you with a paper, an entire pamphlet. “It’s already spread through the ton like a fire. We haven’t read it yet. We figured new literature would be a treat for you.”

“Thank you, Pandora. Shall we read it in the kitchens this morning when we return home?”

“Not your room?”

“I’m so terribly sick of my room and the washroom and the balcony and the bedroom.”

“You are getting restless.”

“It’s only a matter of time. Maybe even tomorrow it’ll happen. And soon it will only be a couple of years at most before the mask is gone. By the way,” you said as the two started to leave. “Did you hear about the Feather girl that fainted? Is she alright?”

“Oh yes, she’s fine.”

“Good. Have someone send flowers to her tomorrow with an inquiry about her wellbeing after taking such a tumble. Oh and no flowers to the Diamond. I want to meet her myself one day. Now, let’s read about this… Lady Whistledown. She already sounds like an interesting woman.”

Interesting it was indeed. The maids and kitchen staff hung onto your every word as you read the pamphlet. You weren’t exactly sure how you felt about the pamphlet yet but Pandora was right about one thing. It was literature. Lady Whistledown seemed bold enough to list subjects by name. By their entire name as if she wasn’t afraid of any repercussions. You supposed she wouldn’t be since Whistledown was obviously not her real name.

It wasn’t the subject of what she published that bothered you. A lot of it was standard gossip that goes around during the social season but it was her personal opinion. She almost seemed to want the ladies she wrote about to have miserable ends like inquiring about Daphne Bridergton’s flame burning out quickly. The lady must know that what she published could ruin a reputation. Gossip is no longer gossip when publicly written down. It has the potential to become fact.

You slapped the pamphlet against your hand. “Well, I suppose Mercutio Quick from York will no longer be the entertainment of the ton. Sad, and right as I earned a publishing deal too. Perhaps, I should take up a different art. Like making dresses for all my days or learning to play the harp and cello properly so it sounds better than a dying whale according to my brothers.”

The cook shook his head. “Your stories are very entertaining. Even Lady Whistledown couldn’t stop that.”

“Thank you for saying that. I am rather jealous that she is penning under a woman.”

“But you have chosen a name based on your favorite characters, have you not?”

“I have but maybe I should’ve chosen better. This Lady Whistledown might be making more change for women then I hope to accomplish.”

At this, the staff scoffed. Pandora cleaned up your dishes from the kitchen island in front of you.

“Your Highness, with the utmost respect, you are the one who is going to do more for women than this Whistledown. Everybody already wants someone other than your kind brother on the throne. They’re all praying your niece gives them any child so they may protest for her with the added benefit of an heir. They love her and what you write about in your letters make her seem even better. Hell, they love you and they don’t even know you. They listen to you. And with your words, Princess Charlotte the Younger will be on the throne and you will prove women are more than capable of whatever and we might have real change. Is she still on board?”

“Yes. She hates her father as much as anyone else does. George is nice once you get to know him… sort of. But Lettie approves as long as I agree to be in her court. I said yes of course.”

“Then it is settled. Thank God we might actually get change in our wretched lives. Now you must wash up and oversee the Bridgerton gowns before they are sent off. Shall we pick certain ones from your wardrobe?”

“Give the Diamond the one with lace and her family’s colors. Pick whatever you want for the rest of them. Oh and patterns must be on the Feather mother’s dress. I noticed she wears the most ill-favored ornamented dresses but she seems to like them. And put in an order with the modiste, I should like to do this often if this first gesture goes well and the gift wardrobe will need more clothes than it has at present. Clothes for the lower classes as well, nothing that could get them attacked and the clothes stolen off their bodies.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“And, by the way, I already washed up.”

“Yes, but now you’ve been sitting amongst smoke and smells.”

You gave up your fight and nodded as you jumped down from your stool and began the walk to your room. No one was around today. They wouldn’t be for most of the social season as they had other duties, including watching your siblings. Despite your madness, you weren’t the biggest concern at all. It was your rakish brothers in brothels, your sisters constantly leaving their husbands or suitors, and all of them sneaking away. You paused for a moment before walking quicker until you reached your room.

Why couldn’t you sneak out? Now would be the perfect opportunity. And no one was looking for you. It would be so easy to scale the vines up the garden wall and just have fun for a moment. You washed up quickly and put on a very simple dress — one more like the style of today rather than your father’s time. Grabbing a cloak and your mask, you put them down on the bed before sitting down at your writing desk to pen a letter. The slam of the door nearly made you jump out of your skin. You calmed as you realized it was just Pandora.

“Oh, good. It is just you.”

“I have the Bridgerton and Featherington dresses but what do you mean it is just me, Y/N?”

You stood up, abandoning the letter now that someone was around. “I am going out to see the ton.”

“What?”

“It is still dark. I have a map, my cloak, and the mask. And I have a very clear destination with vehicles that will get me back in the most discreet of ways should I need to use them.”

“Your Highness.”

“Pandora. I am nearing my introduction to society. You will all have to let me go at some point. I know everyone cares for my wellbeing but my happiness is gone. I am seen as nothing but my illness. Before I have an episode in public like the king, let me meet the ton. Let me not be Farmer Y/N for a brief moment of my life before I am a farmer forever, before I stay in that garden just like Father.”

Pandora’s mouth shut. She simply locked the door and unlocked the window. “You must return before your midmorning promenade and snack. Since you ate downstairs, I can convince them to overlook your absence of a breakfast request. And don’t take your mask. It’s better if they don’t know who you are at all.”

She gasped as you hugged her.

“Thank you, Pandora! Thank you! You are truly the bestest friend a woman could have.”

“Just go so you can come back quickly and I can have my sanity back.”

You closed the window, shocking Pandora as you pulled a picture frame off the wall to reveal a staircase that led outside. The door was hidden behind the trellis covered in vines and flowers. You pulled the hood over the cloak over you. The last thing you did was check for your bracelet and if your papers were inside. Until you were introduced to society, all the royal children had bracelets that couldn’t come off unless cut off. There were just in case measures with the eldest two but became necessary after so many nights sneaking out. The bracelet wasn’t going anywhere but you didn’t want to lose your birth certificate. It was your first safety measure. Even if you were kidnapped or harmed, you’d be returned to the palace for a pretty penny. You did pull your sleeves down so your bracelet wouldn’t be noticed.

You couldn’t contain your smile at the excitement of being out. London was so different without all the noise. The brothels and pubs were starting to close down for their few hours of rest and relaxation. You stuck to streets where you could see all the action but wouldn’t be easily spotted. No one bothered you until you arrived at your destination.

The footman stood to attention. “May I help you?”

“Yes, hello. I bring a package from Buckingham House for the Bridgertons, courtesy of Princess Y/N.” You handed him a letter with your official stamp at the end of it.

The footman’s eyes went wide as he handed you back the letter and ran inside. The Bridgertons looked up at the frantic knocking, pulling slips over Hyacinth and Daphne before telling the footman he could enter. The Bridgerton boys came upstairs after hearing the heavy pounding of their employee’s footsteps running up the multiple stairs.

“Is there a problem, Marshall?”

He panted before taking in a deep breath. “The Young Princess’ lady-in-waiting is here, bearing gifts.”

“WHAT?!”

The Bridgertons collectively yelled before the scramble happened. You tilted your head when you saw the windows open and a maid shake out some bedsheets. She squeaked when she looked down to see you. You laughed as she ran back inside. It couldn’t have been more than five minutes before you were escorted into the house by a very out of breath footman. The Bridgertons stood on the steps at the end of their entrance hall in chronological order with their mother starting the line at the very bottom step. Nervous smiles graced their faces when you finally reached them. You curtsied to which they curtsied or bowed back.

You gave them a second to assess you before speaking. Even though it wasn’t true in the slightest, everyone thought the ladies-in-waiting and manservants were reflections of the royals themselves. Not in character or value but in appearance. They figured they could form some sort of picture as to what the young masked royals looked like. If you were ugly then surely the princess was too. You hoped they at least found you to be average looking in appearance.

Anthony Bridgerton — the new head of house from what you remembered of your studies — stepped from behind his mother to greet you formally. He bowed once again, deeper, before offering up his hand. You settled yours in it to receive a chaste kiss.

“To what do we owe this sudden pleasure, Mrs…”

“Beckett,” you lied, just using Pandora’s last name.

“Mrs. Beckett?” He didn’t recognize the name as one belonging to an upper class member of the ton. He wasn’t sure he recognized the name at all.

“Apologies, I should explain. The princess doesn’t distinguish in her court, we are all there to work. All women are ladies-in-waitings, all men are valets. Regardless of station, regardless of marriage.”

“So, I am to take it that my earlier statement was incorrect.”

You nodded. “Simply Miss Beckett.”

“Well that sounds like very forward thinking actually. All the same, it is our pleasure to meet anyone in her highness’ court.”

Violet smiled as she watched the interaction. If her son was close to anyone in the princess’ court, especially someone that seemed so close to the princess as to be sent here, then he would be able to meet the princess with good graces. He’d be ahead of any man by leagues.

“Princess Y/N has sent me on her behalf. She extends warm greetings to the Bridgertons and the Featheringtons whom I will meet after our encounter. The princess congratulates Miss Daphne Bridgerton for earning Diamond of the Season as well as congratulations to the Dowager Viscountess for raising such a fine woman and to Viscount Bridgerton for chaperoning and keeping the family together therefore allowing his sister to shine.”

He cleared his throat and started to smile. “Please give the princess all of our thanks for the most kind of compliments.”

“And she would like to assure Miss Bridgerton that I have not been sent on behalf of any princes. Her brothers will not be bothering you today.”

They all chuckled when you laughed.

You set the first box down on the table next to you and opened it. “The princess has brought new dresses for the ball. The Diamond and the rest of her family should have the opportunity to shine with the utmost and wholehearted respect and support of the Crown. Please, enjoy them.”

The family ran to the table, picking out dresses and suits and matching them to the person’s name on the paper pinned to each garment. They kept singing praises and admiring the outfits. Violet turned back to you.

“When are you planning on visiting the Featheringtons?”

“In an hour or so, I must be back before the princess’ morning promenade. She has a very busy day afterwards.”

“Will the princess be introducing herself this season?”

“Hyacinth!” Anthony and Violet yelled at the same time.

You laughed. “It is no trouble. I’m at liberty to answer as the princess’ head valet.”

“Valet? I thought you said they were all men. They are usually all men.”

“If the princess should become heir to the throne then she will receive a male valet alongside me. For now, it is just me. The Crown believes someone of the same gender should always be with her should she need to confide in someone about very personal matters.” You took a breath before testing the waters. “Such as affections of the heart.”

It had dawned on you in that moment that you could spy on the ton. When the time came, you would still have to dance with all the bachelors of the United Kingdom but you at least you would have a better picture of them. You’d have to apologize to Pandora for the countless strokes she was about to earn from you but you couldn’t make this your only time sneaking out.

Violet smiled, knowing she was right. “Well, would you like to stay for breakfast?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“It would be no trouble at all. We have more than enough room. Eloise, dear, if Penelope is to come over please request that she do so now.”

(part 2)

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#benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #benedict x reader #benedict bridgerton x princess!reader #benedict fluff #bridgerton fluff #fic

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2hightocare · 11 months ago

Text

SNOW IMPRINTS ✷

“I’m grown, I’m not dipping my dick in the snow to compare dick sizes.”

Synopsis: What was supposed to be a family reunion, ends in comparing dick sizes.

Genre: established relationship! married au!

Pairings: DILF!Jungkook x fem!reader

Warnings: Jungkook being whipped as fuck, Jungkook being a girl dad! (Cute.) a lot of cussing, mentions of sex, mentions of consumption of alcohol, found family.. Jungkook is just such a cutesy dramatic baby!

a/n: hai… I disappeared for a bit but happy new year!! I read “unravel me” and it inspired me to write this super short blurb so enjoy Jungkook being a golden retriever husband. (Ignore all mistakes, wrote this while high) 🤍 Word count: 1.4k

“I’m literally the biggest DILF,” your husband starts again. Jungkook points to himself while Iseul giggles in his arms.

“If you don’t shut the fuc—“ Yoongi irks.

“No cussing!” You and all the wives jump in. A heavy sigh leaves your mouth because this is like the hundredth time you have told all the boys not to cuss when the kids are around. Not since what happened when you decided to babysit Ye joon.

“Jeon, get your ass in here!” You shout from the kitchen, hoping your husband can hear you from upstairs. You stare at the empty cookie jar you had refilled yesterday, and there was only one reason why they were gone.

“What, baby?! What’s wrong?” Jungkook runs down the stairs with Iseul in one hand and Ye joon in the other. The two babies laugh at the bouncing. “Did you eat all the cookies!?” You glare at Jungkook, your hands on your hips as your husband looks everywhere but your eyes.

“Actually… Taehyung stole some when he left Ye joon.” He explains as if that would change anything. Knowing Jungkook for ten years, you know damn well Taehyung maybe took three cookies and the other fifty Jungkook ate them.

“No more cookies.” You announce with a shrug not wasting any time and move closer to your daughter who’s in your husband's arms, who stands there with mouth agape.

“No mowe cookies dada!” Iseul giggles as she makes grabby hands for you to pick her up, wiggling out of Jungkook's arms as you grab her.

“Now what do you mean no more cookies?” Jungkook switches Ye joon to his other arm, mouth hanging open dramatically. “There were like three packs in there, and you ate them in a few hours, so no more cookies.” You dance around the kitchen with Iseul in your arms, her chubby arms wrap around your neck as she laughs non-stop. Contrast from Jungkook on the other side of the white counter.

“What the fuck, baby?” Jungkook literally whines as Ye joon giggles, his little hands in his mouth, drool dripping down his chubby cheeks. “Come here, baby, come with your aunt.” You make your way to Ye joon only to stop in your tracks.

“Fuck!” Ye joon beams, clapping his hands, smiling up at you with all his baby teeth showing, as you stare at him dumbfounded.

“No, no, no, don’t say that.” You quickly interfere as Jungkook is staring at you with wide eyes. “Fuck! Fuck!” Ye joon laughs as Iseul joins in.

“Fuck!” Another giggle.

“This is so your fault!” You point to your husband who is trying so hard not to laugh. “Don’t laugh!” You put a hand over your mouth, trying to hide your amusement.

“I’m not— fuck!” Jungkook slaps a hand over his mouth.

“How the fuck are we going to explain this to Taehyung and Ari?” you sigh with a slight laughter in your tone.

“Fuck!”

“We couldn’t get Ye joon to stop saying the f word for like two weeks straight; daycare was seriously about to kick him out,” Taehyung sighs dramatically as Yoongi stares at Eunbi, his wife who stares down at her tiny belly. Wondering if that’s going to be his case in the future.

“Let’s pray for the new baby to not come out like this little beast,” Jimin squeezes Ye joon’s cheeks, making him squirm in Taehyung’s arms.

Ye joon, three years old, Taehyung and Ari’s child, the second-born from the group and the most mischievous, he really doesn’t listen to anyone but his parents, besides Jungkook and you. His godparents. Jiho, first-born, Seokjin’s and Lora’s child. He’s about to turn ten in January. Iseul, third-born, Jungkook's and your child, two years old and the only girl at the moment.

Besides Eunbi, who’s three months pregnant, no one else is going to have kids anytime soon, well, that’s what they say.

“It’s cold; let's go inside, girls.” You suggest as you pick up Iseul from her dad's arms, as the girls stand up following your movements inside the house through the glass door.

“Give Ye joon to Ari!” Hoseok hushes as he swats Taehyung on the shoulder. “Babe! Take Ye joon!” Taehyung shouts. Ari laughs at how her husband has Ye joon up in the air like the Lion King waiting to be taken.

“Come with mama.” Ari picks up the boy in a puffer jacket, making him look like a big marshmallow before skipping inside, joining all the girls inside.

“So sad Seokjin and Namjoon couldn’t come... they really decided on that cabin instead of us, crazy.” Jimin whines as he takes a sip of his beer before placing it in the hole he made in the snow before snuggling into his sweater.

“Honestly, I would take being in a cabin with my wife a hundred times more than being here,” Jungkook playfully jokes, “imagine the bomb-ass sex in the woods,” He smirks with the rim of his bottle on his lips, making the rest of the boys roll their eyes.

“Crazy how y/n has you wrapped around her finger,” Yoongi chimes in, blowing into his hands as if it would make them non-cold.

“Not even.” Jungkook playfully rolls his eyes.

“Dude, you’re so whipped, like it’s so fucking crazy,” Taehyung joins in, as he laughs when the boys hum in agreement.

“Dude, you tried to wrap her in bubble wrap when she was pregnant because you swore she would fall and hurt herself,” Hoseok recalls two years ago. “She could’ve fallen down the stairs; I needed to take precautions,” Jungkook tries to defend himself but fails miserably.

“What the fuck is that for?” You question your husband who enters the main door with a giant bubble wrap roll.

“This is for your safety, baby, can’t have you falling and hurting yourself, so I’m wrapping the whole house like it’s a Christmas present.”

You stare at your husband who is speaking literally, “Jeon, you are not wrapping anything,” you warn him.

“It’s either wrapping this house up or I’m wrapping you in bubble wrap for nine months... your choice baby,” Jungkook shrugs, looking down at your laying body on the couch, hands rubbing down your two-month pregnant belly.

“Be extremely for real.” Your mouth drops open dramatically.

“Even Iseul in her two years of life has you pining after her; imagine when she gets a boyfriend.” Jimin brings up, almost sending Jungkook into a cardiac attack right there and there.

“Fuck no! No boys till she’s forty!” Jungkook points his finger to Jimin. “Or girls either!” He finishes with a pout, making the boys howl in laughter.

“Excuse the fuck outta me!” Jungkook shoots up from his chair.

Somehow the conversation steered with a lighthearted joke about who was the biggest, and suddenly everyone ganged up on Jungkook, talking about he had the smallest dick of all of them.

“We all know that Taehyung has the biggest dick here, let's be honest,” Jimin shrugs, which only makes Jungkook's jaw drop lower.

“Say less, only one way to find out.” Jungkook reaches for his zipper.

“Ayo, what the fuck! There are children here,” Hoseok rushes out, “we are not about to whip our dicks out to compare sizes,” he finishes.

“Of course not.” Jungkook makes his way to the snow, his back facing the boys as his zipper gets pulled down, and before everyone knows it, he spreads his arms wide, face planting in the white snow.

“Shit, fuck, cold!” He scrambles to his feet, tucking himself in as he shivers from the cold. Then, he chuckles with a grin plastered on his face as he points to the snow angel on the snow… and a perfectly shaped imprint of his cock.

“So who’s next?” Jungkook asks.

“I’m grown, I’m not dipping my dick in the snow to compare dick sizes.” Yoongi shakes his head, crossing his arms.

They all dipped their dicks in the snow to compare dick sizes.

“What the fuck! I swear it shrunk cause it’s cold, I swear,” Taehyung begs to the boys who stare at all the lined imprints.

“Motherfuckers, I told y'all I was the biggest,” Jungkook smiles proudly as he sees he is the biggest out of all of them.

“I can’t believe this, we just boosted his ego more,” Jimin sighs as he stares at his own imprint and then to Jungkook's.

The glass door slides open, making the five men abruptly turn around. Five women come marching towards them, “what are you guys doing?” Ari asks, with a big smile on her face.

“Nothing,” Taehyung answers a little too fast.

You stare at your husband, raising your eyebrow at him, and that makes him fold like a lawn chair. “We were comparing dick sizes in the snow,” Jungkook blurts out, “I won though!” He cheers, pointing to his snow angel happily.

“Fucking shit, y/n how are you upright?” Eunbi gasps as she stares at Jungkook's imprint. “Now we know why you are always so damn happy,” Yoongi chimes in with a grin.

3K notes · View notes

kasagia · 9 months ago

Text

Game of survival

Pairing: young president! Coriolanus Snow x fem!rebel! reader Summary: The worst enemy is the person who betrayed you when you trusted them with all your heart. The person you told all your secrets to, the person you loved more than your life—the best friend who suddenly turned on you and stabbed you in the back and right through your heart, using your weaknesses they learned with the time they spent with you. You and Coriolanus have been each other's worst enemies since that fateful day at the lake in District 12... Inspired by: Game of survival - Ruelle Warning: 18+; a little smut; Coriolanus chases you around his presidential palace; I had a completely different idea for it, but it turned out that way...; Enjoy!; Taglist: @aoi-targaryen @il0vebeingdelulu @chelseyyouraverageluigi Coriolanus Snow's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist

You hold your breath as you sit on the roof of a building.

Through Sniper Rifle, you watch carefully as the president of Panem gets out of his car. You only see the outline of his bleached blonde hair before he disappears into his presidential palace. The car drives away, and peacekeepers start circulating around the building again. An impregnable fortress. Seemingly.

"I hope you have a plan." Joseph mumbles next to you, moving into position next to you. "We must act quickly tonight. Get in and out before the peacekeepers find out what are we going to do."

"First, you have to shoot him. I won't leave there without seeing the life drain from his eyes." You reply, preparing to leave the roof.

"Do not worry about it. Everyone would like to be in my place. I don't miss the target." He replies confidently, with an arrogance in his voice that you don't like. But you won't lecture him. The other hunter never liked being told how to do his job. You caught animals; he caught real people. He had more experience in this area than you. But could Coriolanus still be considered human?

"That's not what I'm thinking about. It's a game of survival. Him or us. You have to play it smart. Don't underestimate him just because he's from the Capitol, Jospeh."

"I bet he didn't even hold a gun in those well-groomed hands of his." You shudder. The screams of Sejanus and Lucy Gray echo in your head. Coriolanus' screams. The sounds made by mockingjays...

"I doubt it." You answer briefly and go out to the staircase.

You pass through several of its inhabitants before reaching the basement. Before you open one of the rooms, you look around to make sure you are alone in the residential basements. You quickly open and close the door behind you. You move the painting, some kind of marriage portrait of a general and his wife, and go through a hidden passage. It was a tunnel dug under the building, which led to a small room where the most important members of the rebellion slept. The rest were to arrive during the day. For a special evening event.

"You need to be more careful." Meg tells you as you return to base. "The peacekeepers seem to be breeding in their barracks. I saw twice as many of them on the streets as yesterday. And guess what?"

She slaps her hand flat on the table. You walk up and lean down, seeing the wanted poster for you. Alive, not dead. Whoever turned you in would get a ridiculous amount of money.

"I have a nicer jaw shape." You comment and pick up the wanted poster. You throw it in the air and aim the dagger at it, nailing it to the earthy wall of your shelter.

"I don't know what you did to Snow, but even his advisor, who ran his presidential campaign and defected to join us, isn't so... passionately wanted by him and his men as you are." She says, wincing when she can't get the dagger out of the wall. You roll your eyes and walk over to her, pulling out the dagger easily and handing it to her with a mocking smile.

"Old disagreements and a minor difference of opinion." You tell her, walking over to the map of the Capitol and the plan of the presidential palace. "I doubt he even remembers why he's so pissed at me. That was ages ago. 10 years. Maybe more. But as you can see, bastards like him hold grudges for a long time."

"People gossip, you know. That you are not suitable for this job. That you had some feelings for him that would make you hesitate to pull the trigger when necessary." She says, walking towards you. She places her hand on your back, making you look at her. "If you don't want to, don't say it. But I need to be completely sure that you won't betray us."

"I'm not the one who is supposed to kill him. We have Jospeh to do that. But believe me, if necessary, my hand won't shake. I am a hunter. My job is to kill. And an animal like him is well within my hunting range. He... he has done too much for me to feel sorry for him. And believe me, if anyone has a reason to kill him, it's me. I have something to take revenge for. So if you don't trust me, then trust my rage. After all, there is nothing like a mad woman, is there?" You ask, sending her a meaningful smirk.

And even though you pretend to be so confident in front of her and any other rebels, deep down, you know that it's not all that simple. Things between you and Coriolanus... were complicated. And anyone else in your situation would hate him with all their hearts, but you couldn't just stop loving him. Maybe you were actually weak, but if you learned anything from Coroilanus Snow, it was how to pretend to be stronger than others. Even when you were in a shitty situation.

"Good. Prepare yourself. We start at dusk. For the Districts."

"And for all the fallen. Let the odds be forever dead." You finish.

Meg nods and leaves you alone with the maps and plans. Your task was simple. Sneak through the guests at a masquerade party, get into his office, and plant a bomb. Just in case. Only if Joseph hadn't managed to kill him. You were also supposed to set a few other traps for President Snow. And since you were the best hunter in Panem, there was no one better for that job.

You've been preparing for this for months. You have figured out all the escape routes, emergency exits, peackeeper patrols, and their plans to secure the reception at the presidential palace.

Tonight, everything will be resolved, your past will be finally a closed past, whether you want it or not.

Either he or you will die tonight. And if you were sure about something, you were sure that you wouldn't pass away so easily.

You never expected that Coriolanus Snow would become your worst enemy.

Or at least that's what you think as you drive through the Capitol. You sit in the backseat, staring at the streets and people passing by, as your chauffeur and fellow rebel take you to your destination.

Ever since Lucy Gray returned from the Hunger Games, she has been praising her mentor. She said that the boy she met gave her invaluable support and help, and that if it weren't for him, she wouldn't have survived on her own in the arena.

Her stories make you imagine him as an angel. Blond curls, sky blue eyes, helping a poor girl from the district, a man with a good heart—everything fit. And you were confirmed in that belief when you saw him for the first time and realised how handsome he really was.

How were you supposed to know then that Coriolanus Snow was really an angel, but a fallen one? How could you recognise the devil through the disguise he had created for himself?

You were certainly not the first or the last to fall under his spell, to believe in the façade of a good man, to see him as a hurt boy who needed love and tenderness. At least you wanted to believe you weren't the only one naive enough to ignore all the clues and signs that he wasn't such a saint after all.

It started inconspicuously. Like all disasters. And you, having lived in District 12 for so long, knew very well what bad fate, misfortune, and catastrophe were.

But nothing could have prepared you for the coming of Coriolanus Snow.

He was charming. Oh God, and how much he was. Sejanus didn't pay much attention to his surroundings, but Snow picked up on every little detail, no matter how insignificant it may have been at first sight. Lucy Gray fell into Plinth's arms. And you became infatuated with a devil who seemed to be as observant as you.

"Lucy Gray's friends are my friends." The brunette guy says that and takes a step forward. You shift your cautious gaze to him, but he doesn't seem to notice that you're wary and reaches for your hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it. "Sejanus. Nice to meet you."

"Y/N." You say, removing your hand from his grip. "I used to say that too. And then she took me to feed her snakes. The poisonous ones. The worst 3 minutes of my life."

"3 minutes?" He asks curiously. You notice someone moving behind him—another man—who is whispering something to Lucy.

"She ran away screaming." Your friend giggles and throws her arm on Sejanus' shoulder. You roll your eyes at her as she laughs at you, not hiding the smile that begins to form on your lips.

"That's not true. I didn't scream. I saw a rabbit and went hunting." You mutter, feigning offence, which only intensifies her laughter.

"A hunter who is afraid of snakes?"

Someone's question distracts you from Lucy Gray. Behind her, you notice the man who was whispering something to her earlier. He steps out of her shadow and stands a few steps away from you. You look him up and down, and by the way Lucy is comfortable with the other peacekeeper and his appearance, you assume he must be her mentor. Coriolanus Snow. And damn her, he was really hot.

"I am afraid of what I have to be afraid of, private Snow. Just like a hunter should. You never know when the danger will come that you will turn from a predator to a prey." He watches you carefully, listening to your every word. And by the small smile he can't contain, you know that you've managed to make him curious and defend yourself enough for him not to discredit you.

"It's Coryo when we are among friends." He says this, nodding at you. He does not extend his hand to you like Sejanus did, nor does he attempt any other greeting that requires physical contact. Weird. You wonder if he would be attentive enough to sense your discomfort.

"We should get going. The Covey is probably waiting for us. Will you come tomorrow? I think we have a lot to talk about." The brunette asks them with a smile and stands on your other side, taking your arm.

"Su..."

"We will escort you." Coriolanus interrupts his friend, still looking at you. "We wouldn't want anything to happen to you. There are... quite a lot of people hanging around here tonight." His gaze shifts to Lucy Gray for a moment, and he nods for her to lead.

"He may be a rebel, but he is also chivalrous. Come then, gentlemen." She laughs and places her other hand on the crook of Sejanus' elbow. Coriolanus adjusts and walks on your other side, maintaining an appropriate distance, so he is close but not touching you or brushing his arm against yours.

At one point, the crowd of people won't let you walk four in a row, so Lucy and Sejanus take the lead. You and Coryo follow behind them, a little apart. There's a strange silence between you. You shift your gaze to his, and you see that he is already watching you.

"I think I should thank you for saving her. It's not that easy to keep that tramp out of danger. And believe me, I know what I'm saying; I've known her since we were children."

"Yes, she is very… alive. But that was just my job as her mentor." He says this as you both walk down the dark streets. The moonlight and a few lanterns illuminate it so much that you can walk freely in the dark without tripping over any protruding stones.

"Was it also your duty to become a peacekeeper and come to 12?" Your question clearly surprises him. He didn't expect anyone to connect... the events or have the courage to ask him about it. Lucy Gray didn't do it. But you weren't Lucy Gray. You were better. And he was starting to see it.

"It wasn't... planned." He says this and clears his throat, looking at Lucy Gray and Sejanus laughing together about something. "But I'm not going to stay here long."

"Did you come here for her or for him?" You ask, seeing his jaw clench as he watches them both.

"None. I just had to do it." He responds dryly, clearly not wanting to talk about it further. You didn't know who he was jealous of, but you could recognise that feeling in others' eyes perfectly. And he was definitely jealous. You only wondered about what. About Lucy Gray, Sejanus, or just about what was between them?

"A lonely wolf. I see." You comment and turn your head towards the Hanging Tree.

Coriolanus takes the opportunity to get a better look at you. You don't have an outfit as bold and colourful as Lucy Gray. You were rather quiet and thoughtful. He couldn't' say that he wasn't captivated by the aura that his former tribute had around her, but he somehow found himself feeling better in the silence between the two of you than he ever felt around Lucy Gray and her wild personality.

You had also really beautiful eyes.

"And what about you?" He asks, wanting to get your attention again.

At first, he stayed close to you just to spite Lucy Gray, but after she obviously ignored him, he had no intention of talking to you anymore. But something about you drew him to you. And maybe it was your caution; maybe he wanted to break it and set it as a challenge, a distraction while he was in District 12, or maybe he just wanted attention? He did not know. It irritated him how much he wanted to see your eyes sparkling teasingly in the lamplight again.

"Me?" You looked up at him, giving him your full attention. He almost smiled. Almost.

"Are you remaining here for her or for someone else? I know there is a need for good hunters in many other and better districts. Why are you stuck here when you could be hunting somewhere else? Have a better place to live?" He asks, unable to understand you.

You obviously didn't feel comfortable in District 12. No one could. And he knew from Lucy Gray's histories and his brief observation of your actions that someone like you, with your skills, could easily get a transfer to a wealthier district. But you didn't. He wanted to know why.

"What if I like it here?" You ask with a shrug. He frowns, looking around. You are passing by mouldy buildings, some houses are made of ood—you say it while they walk down the poorest alley in 12. Coriolanus believes he saw a rat running in front of you, but he doesn't want to think about it.

"Here?" He asks with disbelief and a hint of disgust in his voice, to which you giggle, almost laughing.

And instead of Coriolanus being offended and threatening you (he's a peacekeeper after all; he could make you spend a day in detention, and if you were anyone else, he definitely would do that), but somehow Snow can't do anything but smile, while admiring you.

However, he takes his eyes off you, even though he's tempted to look at you longer. He can't afford to have another weakness. To have another Lucy Gray. Although he doesn't think you'd push him away that easily for Sejanus or anyone else, like she did.

You and he were similar. Both of you were withdrawn, silent, observers, taking into account the threats. You did not play heroes with bravado and did not count on good luck, only on their own minds and skills.

"No, not here. I am not mad yet." You say, snapping him from his thoughts."The forests are beautiful. The fields. Rivers and lakes. The rest of Panem is industrialized. Concrete and factories everywhere. There is... a kind of peace here if you close your eyes to certain things. Maybe you will stay here long enough to find out about it by yourself." And something about you—the warm tone of your voice and the sparkles in your eyes as you talk about your favourite places—makes Coriolanus feel a sudden urge to stay here for a while—just as you suggested. Since he was going to be here for a while anyway, he might as well have some fun... right?

"I could use a guide." He says this before he can even think about it, as he sees Lucy Gray slowing down, obviously getting closer to your house.

He didn't know why he cared so much about seeing you again. You were nothing. Just a district hunter. He would leave the 12, find a way to get back to the Capitol, and forget about everything that brought him here. But damn, that little smile of yours made him feel butterflies in his stomach. He was pathetic. And he hated himself for it.

"I can be one."

"Aren't you afraid that people will see you with the peacekeeper?" You raise your eyebrows, shocked by his words. "I saw you looking around. Don't worry. She specifically directs us to streets that are... less frequented." He reveals his observations to you, and for the first time since you two introduced yourself, he sees that the note of fear and caution has disappeared from your eyes for a moment.

Your curious look causes him to have heart palpitations. That was weird for him. Maybe he was sick? He just hoped he hadn't caught anything from those bar rats.

"You really are perceptive, aren't you?" You ask, and he shivers, feeling your analytical gaze on him.

Coriolanus can't say he doesn't enjoy the thrill of excitement as you both try to solve the secrets the other is hiding. Talking to you was… nice. Most of the peacekeepers were as dumb as nails. Muscle mass and nothing else. And he had grown tired of Sejanus's moralising talk a long time ago. Talking to you would be good for him in some way. He wouldn't go completely crazy here. At least that's how he tried to explain to himself his strange and sudden desire to meet you again. And often. Very often.

"I was told so." He says this as you arrive at the door of your house. Coriolanus looks around carefully and is pleased to see that this is one of the better, quieter alleys. He makes a mental note to take more night shifts here. Just to keep an eye on you.

Before you walk into your house with Lucy Gray, you turn to look at him one last time.

"Well, I hope you won't miss the Capitol too much... Coryo." And when his nickname leaves your lips, he knows that this won't be the last time he sees you.

He watches as the door closes behind the two of you, taking in the last sight of you. He returns with Sejanus to their unit, completely ignoring his chatter about Lucy Gray as he thinks about you. Over time, he will find that he will do this more and more often. Thinking about you.

But neither of you knows how much you will regret this night in the future.

You walk up the stairs of the presidential palace wearing a beautiful white dress. Your mask fits to the top of your face, revealing only your mouth, chin and part of your jaw. You feel terrible, but you have to somehow blend in with the crowd of rich assholes who are enjoying their president's birthday party while district children tremble at the thought of the upcoming 22nd Hunger Games.

The only thought that comforts you is that he will die before dawn. And that you can have a glass of champagne.

You give your cloak and fake invitation to some peacekeeper the poor avox who are waiting at the entrance to serve everyone gathered. It makes you want to vomit when you think about how the man you let touch yourself became such a monster who decided to sew their mouths shut instead of cutting out their tongues.

Of course, with a red thread.

You go deeper into the room. You try to stay in the crowd, not on the outskirts, so as not to catch anyone's eye and so HE won't be able to see you. It may have been 12 years, but you're not sure if he forgot about you enough to not recognise your figure in the crowd. Maybe you tormented his nightmares as much as he tormented yours. You hoped to. Bastard didn't deserve to sleep soundly like a baby.

You're standing in a group of people, listening and laughing at the stories being told, and you're about to excuse yourself and browse around the big villa a bit and place some of the traps when suddenly you hear a tapping on a glass. You turn around with the rest of the people, making sure you're neither in the front nor the last row.

You freeze as Coriolanus' voice echoes through the room.

You have prepared for this moment many times. You predicted thousands of different scenarios for your first meeting, after... that special, rainy day at the lake when you went your separate ways. And you thought you were ready to bear the sight of him. But as soon as you look up at him, you feel your heart beat nervously. And not in that exciting way when you see your prey and are ready to attack.

As you sing a forced 'Happy Birthday' with other people after his speech, you allow yourself to steal one brief glance at him. He looks different.

More mature. More dangerous. Stronger. Powerful.

The golden mask, the only one of its kind in the room, covering his nose and just a small part of his face, the part around his eyes and eyebrows, only emphasises this more clearly.

And the red colour of his suit, along with all his... dominant attitude that emanates from him, are enough evidence of the red flag he was that you didn't notice when he was a peacekeeper in a blue uniform. His hair is longer and slicked back with gel, emphasising his rough, hard jawline and piercing blue, icy eyes. The man who stood in the middle of the room was dangerous. So much so that you felt nervous, thinking about how the hell you were going to kill him today.

You had a plan, but you knew that in every pursuit of prey, there were risks that could not be predicted. When hunting a bear, you don't face it with all your strength. You are waiting for the moment to attack. And now, looking at Coriolanus Snow in all his glory, you began to have doubts about your plan and the abilities of the other rebels. Maybe you will have to play the first violin this evening and aim a gun at him yourself. You shiver at even the thought of it.

And then his eyes find yours. For a very short while, but enough to make you shiver under his glance.

He blinks at you, then shifts his gaze to something or someone else. You feel a lump building in your throat, the words of the song being forced out of your mouth with a more and more trembling voice. He recognised you. Or not. You did not know. His subsequent actions didn't indicate it, but he had been staring at you for far too long to be sure of anything.

You don't like how quickly you're losing control.

That's why you leave at the first opportunity, hiding in the bathroom upstairs. You wait for the peacekeeper patrol to pass, and when they go to the second floor, you start setting up traps at the different spots of the presidential palace. You decide to forget about the events from a few minutes ago for a moment. Only peace will save you. You know about it. That's why you do everything to forget about his icy irises.

Well, at least until you have to go back to the ballroom again.

"A little higher." He whispers in your ear behind you, his hand wrapped around yours, as you aim his shotgun at the deer. "Eyes open, breath held, muscles tense."

You shoot and hit the animal. The gun bounces slightly, but Coriolanus holds you close and tight enough that you barely change your position, only trembling slightly as the gun clicks off.

"I prefer arrows, but thanks for showing me how to use it." You say cheekily as you approach the deer you have aimed perfectly at.

He shakes his head at you, slinging the gun over his shoulder. He watches you as you kneel next to the deer, preparing it to be carried to the district.

"You know, my teachings aren't free." He says this as you get up and walk towards the river to wash your hands. He takes the deer's body and obediently follows you.

He had the day off today and decided to use it to spend time with you. Lately, he's been running away from everyone more and more often to walk in the forest with you. You were talking and fooling around. Coriolanus has never felt so... free as with you. He could get used to this. If he hadn't experienced the comforts of the Capitol. He knew you would get used to the capital. Maybe he'd even let you go on little trips and escapades in the woods once he got back there with you as his wife. Of course, only with him. And with peacekeepers guarding you two, he didn't want to end up like his father.

"Isn't it?" You ask with that mischievous smile of yours, washing your hands in the river. "And here I thought you were noble, private Snow."

"Stop it." He growls menacingly as you don't call him by a nickname he loved to hear from your lips. But you can see by the sparkle of amusement in his eyes. A smile spreads across your face as you continue fooling around.

"Only that? You know that I love to tease you too much to just stop..." He cuts you off mid-sentence, leaning down and capturing your lips in a kiss.

You freeze for a moment, feeling his lips brush against yours and his hand run through the back of your hair. Even if you wanted to pull away from him, you couldn't because of the way he wrapped his hands around you. You should feel trapped and outraged by his behaviour, by the fact that he didn't ask for your permission or leave you the chance to pull away. But all you could do then was grab him by his dog tag and pull him closer to you.

You moan into his mouth as you find out that kissing Coriolanus Snow is the most pleasurable thing in the world.

You place your hands on either side of his neck as he grabs your waist gently, pressing your bodies as close to each other as possible. His lips caress yours gently at first, testing the waters. When he sees that you're not pulling away from him, he deepens the kiss, completely taking over the control that, surprisingly, you willingly give him. You've never been kissed like this in your life. So desperate, so needy, so possessive. And you know that you will never feel this way with anyone else in your life.

And for the first time, you have the opportunity to feel that moment that has been repeated so often in books—kissing someone until you have no more oxygen left in your lungs. Because before him, no one wanted you enough to give you half the sensations that Coriolanus gave you. And you suspected that he felt the same.

"I had this type of payment in mind." He whispers hoarsely, resting his forehead against yours. His eyes are closed, giving you the opportunity to admire his face up close. And god, he's perfect. In all his ounces, you can't even imagine how ethereal he must have been in the Capitol. (The perfect devil, tempting you until you fall.)

"Oh... um... well... be careful… with such a low payment you may be… taken advantage of by some girls." You manage to gasp, gathering the remnants of your mind that weren't occupied with the thought of him and the heavy breathing he was taking because of you.

"There is only one girl in this terrible, musty place, for whose special attention I can get anything she whishes." He says this, opening his eyes and cupping your cheek tenderly. And if your nature were any different (or if he would use a little more of his charm on you), you would melt under his touch, but you couldn't resist the opportunity he gave you.

"Anything, you say..." You mutter in mock thought with a smirk. And all Corilanus can do is smirk stupidly when he sees the familiar spark of malice in your eyes.

He enjoyed challenges, and he liked it even more when he beat you every time in your 'little fights and teasing'. He liked that you weren't completely submissive and that you could fight and banter with him instead of trembling in fear and trusting him blindly. You were almost his equal. Not that he was searching for one. But of all the girls, he knows you were the closest to his perfection. He just needed to work on your compliance a little bit before he could take you with him to the Capitol. After all, you couldn't tease him in public.

"Don't tease." He warns, humming as well, a smirk blooming on his lips despite his attempts to fight it off. He could afford a little... frivolity in the district. He would act completely differently in the Capitol, but for now, he enjoyed every carefree moment with you he could get. He couldn't remember the last time he had had to worry about the opinion of society.

"Oh, but that's the funniest thing to do now..." You continue with a smirk, leaning in to steal a kiss from him. He accepts it with a smile that quickly fades as you pull away from him and run away, laughing.

"And what is this?!" He shouts, running after you.

"A hunting lesson! I won't kiss you for yours in return, Snow!" You reply with a laugh, speeding up.

You ran away from him for an hour until you got tired of it all and ran into him laughing, deciding that he'd had enough of him chasing you for now. He immediately took you into his arms and kissed you, holding you tightly to his chest so that his rapidly beating heart was palpable to you. You placed small kisses on his snout as he held you tightly in his embrace, panting.

"Promise you'll never run away from me. That you'll never leave me." You raise your eyebrows in shock at his request, but you don't question it. You simply nod and press a kiss of promise to his lips as he pushes you against the nearest tree.

Your kiss becomes more feverish, more urgent as you feel his hardness through his peacekeeper uniform. Just a few weeks ago, you would have despised yourself for being so close to him. But it was your Coryo. That's why you don't interrupt him when he unzips your pants and takes them and your underwear off in one move.

You hold your breath as he kneels in front of you and grabs your hips with an iron grip. He presses a kiss on your thighs, teasing you and leaving little bites and bruises there before graciously shifting his attention to where you really need it. You moan, biting your lip to keep from screaming as he slowly circles your clit with his tongue, teasing you to no end. He pushes your hips against the tree every time you try to push against his tongue from a different angle. This frustrates you even more, especially after the gun slung over his shoulder shifts, causing the barrel of the shotgun to dig into your stomach.

"Coryo..." You moan, scratching his head as you try and futilely try to grab his close-cropped hair. He moans at the feeling, stimulating you even more.

He takes pity on you, putting more effort into his work as his fingers start to hit the spot that made you lost your mind. The bark of the tree digs into your back, but all you feel is Coriolanus; your entire world is limited to the movements of his fingers that bring you unimaginable pleasure that cannot be described in any words. All you can do is moan his name, which he finds flattering enough to make you cum around his fingers. Although he had no plan to let you cum when he started to play with your sweet cunt. You were making him too soft for you...

His tongue teases you as he licks along your knee, up your thigh, to stop a few moments before the place where you really needed him to reach your peak of pleasure. He smirks and suddenly bites into your thigh, causing a scream of his name from your lips to echo through the forest. He grunts, licking and sucking the spot on your thigh that he bit, feeling how he hardened in his pants by simply sucking your skin and fingering you. He loved every single sound you made because of him. If tasting you on his lips wasn't as tempting for him as it was for now, he would just kneel there and watch how you kept chasing your orgasm on his fingers.

"Scream for me, my little hunter." He says this and leans forward. His nose teases your clit before he finally licks you, testing your taste. He moans as his favourite flavour spreads across his taste buds. If he had you in the Capitol, he would never starve, he thinks as he begins to fuck you with his tongue, collecting everything that his skillful fingers caused to flow from your little pussy. For him. Because of him. His.

You grip his arms tightly, his gun somehow twisted so that it was pressed against your leg and stomach, but you don't care as he kneels in front of you and sucks the senses out of you through your cunt. You can only moan loudly and scream his name, digging your nails into his shoulders as you pull him closer to you as he makes you come. He licks up everything he gets for his work, leaving nothing to leak from your thighs onto the forest floor.

Coriolanus feels his hardness pressing against his pants, but chooses to ignore it. He won't take you like some district barbarian in the woods. He will do it well. Maybe even in the Capitol... you would look beautiful, wrapped in the most expensive sheets. And while you catch your breath and try to recover, he wonders how he's going to get his little hunter with him back to the Capitol when Dr. Gaul replies to the message he sent her.

He adjusts the gun hanging on his shoulder and stands up, licking his fingers off of the remains of your sweet juices. Unimaginable pride rises in his chest, as does a feeling of possessiveness when he sees your knees shaking and you barely standing, leaning on the tree behind you. He chuckles, remembering the sight. He will definitely think about it, while jerking off himself when he will be alone at the barracks.

"I will always catch you. No matter how long it takes." He says, taking you in his arms when he sees that you're unable to stand on your own in your post-orgasm haze. Another thing that increases his ego.

You didn't know how much that sweet promise would turn out to be a bloodthirsty threat. So you let him carry you through the forest as you both headed back to 12.

The next day, you were delivered money in exchange for the deer you and Private Snow had hunted together. From his superior, Commander Hoff. Even then, he was using you for his own gain.

"Are you lost, miss?" You stop in your quick steps. You curse internally when you hear his voice in the hall. You were about to go downstairs and go to the ballroom. But no. Coriolanus Snow always had to screw up your job.

"Mr. President." You say, trying to change your tone of voice as you turn around and see him. "I was just looking for a spare bathroom."

"Ah yes. Women's ones seem to be… very crowded. Have you made it, little bathroom hunter, or do you need help?" He asks, walking over to you. He shouldn't be here. Certainly not that close to you. Meg was supposed to focus his attention on her and flirt with him. You didn't know what the hell he was doing on the first floor instead of in the ballroom celebrating his birthday.

And when he called you a hunter, you tried your hardest not to shiver in fear at the thought of him seeing through you. But if he recognised you, would he act so... calm around you? Peacekeepers would probably have surrounded you long ago if he had...

"I did it, Mr. President. Ah! Happy birthday! May you watch over us for a very long time." You wish him well, and he just smiles. This isn't one of his forced, political smiles. No.

It was a wolfish smile, a dangerous one. The one that he had a habit of showing you when he managed to outsmart you tracked you down in the forests of District 12.

"Thank you, my darling. You wouldn't deny a man his birthday wishes, would you?" A shiver runs through you as his irises focus on you. His tone is quieter and darker as he asks you a seemingly innocent question. But you know very well that nothing about Coriolanus Snow is innocent.

"Of course not, Mr. President." You reply courteously, already afraid of what he might want from you.

"Great. May I then?" He asks, sticking out his hand as he asks you to dance with a polite smile (if the devil can wear one).

"With great pleasure." You say, placing your hand in his. Without knowing why, you feel like you're putting it in the mouth of a lion... or in this case, a snake.

He holds your hand tightly as he helps you down the stairs. He doesn't let go of you for a second, and once you reach the dance floor, he wraps his arm around your waist and presses you against him, making you feel all his muscles hidden under his clothes. His eyes also never leave yours, which makes you very uncomfortable. Your anxiety only gets greater as you can't see the faces of the other members of your rebellion in the room.

"Nervous? Don't worry. You dance great." The smirk never leaves his face. And that's the kind of sly smirk. Of course, you dance great. After all, he taught you that himself in District 12.

"Thank you, Mr. President." At one point, the dance requires him to turn you around and press your back against his chest. You shiver as you feel his breath on your neck, then on your ear as he leans down, so he is very close to you.

"Do you think I'm stupid enough not to recognise you, Y/N? That I don't dream about you every night? That I didn't notice you when you and your ridiculous group of district dogs burst into my presidential palace?" You struggle, trying to break free from his grip, but he only grips your hip tighter, enough to surely leave bruises in the form of his fingers.

Coriolanus presses his lips against your temple and nuzzles his nose into your hair, inhaling your scent. You shiver in his arms at the familiar feeling of his closeness. You feel the gun hidden under his vest press against the back of your back. A tender reminder of how you both were still enemies and a deadly threat to each other.

His hands roam over your body, exploring you as much as he can manage in a crowd of people. But you doubt anyone would dare point out how he presses his crotch against your ass, forcing you to feel every last bit of him as he continues whispering darkly into your ear. "I've been hunting you for so many years... only for you to come running straight to me, as always. I honestly couldn't have asked for a better birthday present. Let's play a game. Our favourite, darling. Try to escape, my little hunter." He hums as he finally lets go of you.

You're not wasting your time.

You don't turn to see him smirking mockingly, to see the way his cheeks have turned slightly pink from the adrenaline and excitement coursing through his veins, or to see the way the bulge in his pants has become slightly more visible.

You run away from him without looking back, pushing through the crowd of people who are leaving in panic after the announcement that they must leave the villa immediately as a result of the detection of an attempted assassination of the head of state.

But not everything is lost yet.

You saw a few familiar faces in the crowd of people, including Meg and Joseph. And you know that if you want to save your plan and the members of the rebellion, then you have to get Coriolanus' full attention. Make him drop his guard and focus entirely on you.

That's why instead of trying to escpae you stop at the foot of the stairs leading to the first floor.

You watch the crowd of people storming towards the exit. Peacekeepers are pushing through them, some trying to catch the more suspicious ones and interrogate them; everyone is focused on the exit door. So you had to go upstairs. You see Coriolanus slowly walking out of the ballroom. He looks around for you, and when his eyes catch yours, he stops, examining you. You kick off your high heels and run upstairs.

You run forward, hearing the clatter of his shoes close behind you.

You avoid all the traps you have set and hide in one of the rooms. Your feet feel icy from the cool marble you're walking on, but you don't pay much attention to it. Your heart is racing, and you try to breathe as quietly as possible as you hide behind the curtain, listening.

The first thing he does is open all the doors. Of course, carefully and not by himself. He was fully aware that you might have some unpleasant surprises in store for him. He was made very aware of it by one of the peacekeepers who went with him and unlocked the mechanism that caused his beautiful crystal chandelier to fall on the soldier's head.

The maids will have to clean the blood from the white marble again. The next time he renovates the villa, he will have to think about a more... useful floor colour.

"Guard the remaining floors and all exits. Two of you stand by the stairs. I'll take care of this one myself. You go and catch the rest of these street rats." He orders them in a dry tone.

He knows full well that he can fight you alone, and he will do it much better than this bunch of idiots. You weren't just a pure force. You were the mastermind. And only Coriolanus was smart enough to follow your way of thinking and catch you. Just like he always did.

You hold your breath as you hear the footsteps of the peacekeepers spreading across the floor. Only Coriolanus remains. You hear his breathing and his slow, methodical steps. You can imagine him analyzing the hall, looking for traps and potential threats you could prepare for him.

"You know you can't escape, right?" he begins, his footsteps echoing off the walls of the empty, silent corridor. "You've been slipping out of my hands for too long, little hunter. Do you think I don't remember our lessons? That I don't know your systems and customs? I don't know that you packed the entire presidential palace with your little surprises. What a pity that you will never catch me in any of them..."

You hear him enter the room next to you. He drops something to the floor and steps away, closing the door with a bang as the mechanism activates, spreading corrosive gas across the room that was intended to hurt him.

"Really? Such a school trick? I thought you knew better than to test such... childish methods on me, darling. I remember you telling me about something like this after a particular night at your apartment. Can you believe that I remember much better those lessons during which you were moaning and screaming my name?" He chuckles, sinisterly, darkly at the memory.

And then you hear a step. And another one. And another one. Slow, unhurried, and careful. It was so quiet that you wouldn't have heard them if the villa wasn't as quiet as it is now.

He was approaching you slowly and saliently, just as you taught him all those years ago. As usual, he turned out to be a very talented student.

"I never thought you'd be a rebel. After all, you were always so submissive to me... especially under me. And wanting me dead... you know I've killed and turned into Avox for lesser crimes against me and the Panem? But don't worry... your mouth and tongue are too useful for me to take the pleasure they can give away from me ever again."

He starts whistling, checking another room. As you hear him pulling the covers off the bed, you slowly emerge from your hiding place. You take a small step closer to the bathroom and freeze as the floor creaks beneath you.

"Spikes embedded in the mattress? Were you hoping to seduce me and put me on this deathbed? We can always try this... on a less lethal mattress, of course. What would you say, little hunter? Pardon. My sweet rebel?" You close the door quietly behind you and look around the dark room. Window. Maybe if you could open it...

"All these years, and you still use the same perfume." He grunts and closes the door behind him. You shudder, realising that he knows you're in this room. You tighten your hand on the knife hidden in the sleeve of your dress and wait in the cold bathroom for his next steps. "Don't you have a little Deja vu? It reminds me of when you and Lucy Gray ran away from me. That bitch is still hiding. I suspect you don't know where, but you are in contact through some letters or something. As soon as I find her, I will kill her on the spot. I know very well that she was the reason you left me. Don't get me wrong, I'm also angry at you for that... but not as mad as I am at her."

After Sejanus was hanged, he and you planned to escape together. And God, you loved it. You would have sacrificed your whole life for him if it weren't for Lucy Gray, who told you the truth about your beloved devil. So when he came out of the cottage near the lake, worrying about how you had been gone for too long and looking for you with a gun in his hand, you ran away.

"Y/N! Y/N, where are you?! Y/N! Y/N! I will find you! There is no fucking place you can hide from me! Can you hear me, hunter?! NO FUCKING PLACE! YOU ARE MINE! YOU WILL BE ALWAYS MINE! I will mark you like cattle and tie you to my side forever!"

You dream of his screams at some night.

"You promised you wouldn't leave me! You lying bitch!"

You hear his footsteps in the other room as he opens the curtains and checks to see if you're outside the window.

"You think I won't find you?! That you can crawl into a hole that I can't get you out of?! YOU'RE MINE, Y/N! Alive or dead, I don't care! YOU BELONG TO ME!"

You hear him take steps towards the closet, opening it and throwing things out, making sure it's empty. You hear him knocking over several items—the bed, the armchairs. You hold your breath as there is complete silence. He's probably looking at the bathroom door.

You feel your heart beating in your chest just as fast as it did that day when you hid from him as he walked around with a gun, screaming and calling for you. And you almost left. You almost left, wanting to fall into his arms as he kneeled in the middle of the forest and cried, smelling his mother's scarf that he gave you and which was saturated with your scent. But before you could, he screamed and started shooting at the mockingjays in the trees. So you ran away.

And you've been running away since then, hoping that you were a terrible teacher to him and that he would never find you...

"If you leave willingly, I will spare you the unpleasant part, my little rebel. Maybe you can even convince me to forget your transgressions completely… well within reason. However, I suspect that my bed is more comfortable than the floor of a prison cell. Don't you think?"

Maybe if he had used a less mocking tone, if you hadn't heard the pleasure dripping from his voice at his superiority over you and the excitement at catching you, then maybe you would have left willingly. You shake your hand, holding the knife tighter in your hand. No. You wouldn't leave and let him catch you without a fight. He has done too much to you and to other district people to pretend he's not a monster.

"I count to three." You hold your breath, stopping yourself from shaking. The cool air gives you goosebumps as you wait for him to take a step closer to the bathroom's door. "One."

You hear the rustle of fabric; he must have taken off his jacket and probably his mask too. You reach up to your face and untie your own mask, taking it off with a trembling hands.

"Two." Before he enters the room, you hide, so you're standing behind the door, which Coriolanus opens before he counts to three.

Another trick you taught him. Act unpredictably. Don't warn the prey about your next step, and don't let it catch you by surprise.

That's why Coriolanus stands still when he sees the bathroom window open. Your mask lies on the windowsill, taunting him as the moonlight reflects off the silver thread from which it was sewn and glows, tempting him to follow the trail.

That's why, as soon as he comes to the window, you quickly step out from behind the door and close it behind you with a bang.

A moment later, you hear his curses and quick footsteps. You run forward and enter the next room, being careful not to activate any mechanisms. Just as you close the door behind you, you feel him grab the handle on the other side.

In a panic, you do the same and pull the door towards you, wrestling with him. You know it won't get you very far. Coriolanus was stronger than you. He would get inside quickly. You had to think of another way to escape and create distance between you.

"That's enough, Y/N! We had fun, but that's it. You have no way to escape. You know it damn well! Be a good girl and get out." He growls at you, trying to push the door open and get inside.

"So you can kill me?! Hang me like Sejanus?!" You ask angrily, wrestling with him at the door. You feel yourself getting weaker, so you make an instinctive decision. You let go of the door and ran to the window, opening it. You turn around as the door slams shut. You two are standing in the same room again.

You look at each other carefully. You both breathe quickly, analysing each other's possible movements.

"You know I would never hurt you." He starts by taking a small step towards you. You step back to the open window, and he freezes. You may have been on the first floor, but the presidential palace was huge. If you jump out, you will smash into the asphalt and die. And he won't win. Coriolanus cannot afford this. That's why he's standing still for now.

"You killed people. How was I supposed to know I wouldn't be next?" You accuse him, trying to keep your voice from shaking. Your mind analyses all the possibilities. You're tempted to jump. Free yourself from him once and for all. Make him lose. Although this time.

"You could have trusted me. Just a little longer."

"Sorry, I have a survival instinct. Very strong survival instinct." You say this, avoiding his gaze. He takes advantage of your distraction and takes a step towards you, which you don't notice because you are too busy thinking of an escape plan.

"Not that big since you came here. For what? To kill me? Will you stab me in the heart, Y/N? Will you shoot me? Will you poison me?"

"You left me no other choice." You growl at him, furious, tightening your grip on the dagger.

"You don't want to do this. I know you. If you really wanted me to fall into a trap, you'd make it so that I couldn't move my damn foot an inch without activating something. So I'll ask again. Why did you come here?"

You do not know. Really. You can't answer his question.

Because... Yes, you hated him. And yes, you despised him. And yes, you were afraid of the monster he had become. But nothing could change the fact that, deep down, you loved him. You cried hundreds of tears because of him, which ricocheted off the walls of the wall you so eagerly built around yourself and your stupid hearth so no one else would be able to hurt you again. You didn't let anyone else get to know you. Not like Coriolanus did. He was the only one who saw the real you. The part of you that you were so afraid to show anyone else or to even look at them by yourself.

"Y/N. Look at me." It's not a request. This is a command. Subtle, but still. And you know, that's all he'll give you. Commands, expectations.

Never look your prey in the eyes. The first rule you taught him. The only one he always broke.

Maybe because of sadism? Maybe he enjoyed watching realisation shine in his victims' eyes as they realised he was winning. But you can't resist following his command and looking into those icy irises you once knew so well.

Or maybe he really cared about you more than anyone else. You'd like to believe that.

"I can give you everything. The whole world. All you have to do is trust me." He says, taking a few steps closer to you. You bite your lip. You can try to run away, but you know he will catch you. You weren't on your own turf. And he had a hundred tracking dogs, ready to find you. Crook.

"Trust you? After everything you've done?" You mock him. But he doesn't answer. There is perfect silence in the room.

Before you know it, he runs towards you. He activates the mechanism, causing a crossbow arrow to pierce his arm. He ignores it in favour of reaching out to you. He quickly injects something into your neck, holding you tightly against his chest. You stabbed him in the stomach. His blood spurts onto your dress as he makes sure you can't move, ignoring his wounds for a moment. Of course, he retaliates by tightening his grip on you, leaving his fingerprints on your skin.

"So you chose the hard path. Too bad, my little hunter. For you. I'll be damned glad to have the opportunity to train you. I will make you the perfect first lady, my darling." He whispers in your ear, and as you fall unconscious in his arms, you realise one terrifying thing. He caught you. He won this round.

You have to put plan B into action all alone.

You foresaw that your plan might fail and that someone would betray you. That's why you and Meg came up with... a contingency plan. After all, you had to keep your promise.

You're not leaving this presidential palace until you see the life drain from Coriolanus Snow. It will be your prison until then. A golden cage. No matter how long it will take... Or at least try to convince yourself that you have to do it. Because you know you must do it for the good of Panem. That you can't back down from anything at the next opportunity. You can't hesitate. No matter how much you will be drunk on the blame and pain of killing him.

It was a game of survival. A game only you and Coriolanus knew how to play. You had to win. For the good of people. To stop the suffering he caused.

After all, the caged wolf was still a threat. Even for poisonous snakes.

PART 2 (last)

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x y/n #young coriolanus snow #oneshot #coriolanus snow #tbosbas #coriolanus snow x you #corionalus snow #toxic relationship #dark coriolanus snow #smut #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games #coriolanus x you #coriolanus smut #snow lands on top #coriolanus x y/n

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mermaidgirl30 · 7 months ago

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✨Stay in the Light✨

A/N: I’ve been wanting to do a one shot based off the song “The Night We Met” by Lord Huron for a while, and I finally got some inspiration yesterday to write this little piece. Hope you like it 🩵 Thank you to @mountainsandmayhem for being my beta reader before I decided to release this out to the world 💕

Summary: Joel gets injured after a raider attack, and he’s wishing he could’ve told you all the feelings he held back from you for so long

Word Count: 2.2k

Pairing: Joel x fem! reader

Rating: 18+ Only

Tags: Outbreak! Joel, Jackson! Joel, blood, angst, comfort, feelings, regrets, in both reader and Joel’s POV, no deaths, fluff (I am bad at tags, so let me know if I should add anything)

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

“When the night was full of terrors, and your eyes were filled with tears. When you had not touched me yet. Oh, take me back to the night we met”

- “The Night We Met” by Lord Huron

The ground is cold, wet, unwelcoming with a thick puddle of crimson blood pooling beneath his worn green flannel. Large flecks of powdered snow lace through his grey threaded curls that stick to his sweaty forehead. His vision blurs, going in and out in waves as pain takes hold of his insides. He can hear Tommy screaming in the near distance, his deep voice sounding like it’s washed out beneath a wave of deep water. He can barely register it, barely hear anything, but what he does see is a bright light, an angel in disguise. He sees you.

You. The girl he should’ve been more careful with. Your feelings, your heart, your everything. He was such an asshole ever since the first day you came walking through the front gates of Jackson. He should’ve been nicer, shouldn’t have yelled at you over petty things that were his doing and shouldn’t have thrown insults your way when you were just trying to help on every patrol you were assigned to with him.

Maybe if he would’ve been fucking nicer then maybe this wouldn’t have happened. A clean gunshot to the abdomen, now bleeding out on the thick white snow beneath him. Raiders. He wasn’t being careful, wasn’t paying attention. No, he was fucking fixed on arguing with you. Maybe he deserves it, maybe if he wasn’t such a grouch all the time then maybe none of this would’ve fucking happened. He sure as hell doesn’t deserve you. Warm, bright, gentle, kind. He was none of those things, so why the fuck were you still sitting here with him, keeping him from slipping into the thick fog of darkness?

“Joel! Stay with me, okay? Stay with me.” Your voice is so adamant, so terrified, so hurt. And it fucking kills him, destroys him. “Tommy! Help him!”

Joel sees the gathering tears that burn through your beautiful eyes, sees the absolute horror that’s coated through your knit together eyebrows, sees the pain of holding it all together just like you always do. Always so brave. His brave girl…. NO. You’re not his to keep, not his to hold, not his to tell everything’s going to be alright. You weren’t his and never would be. Not after the way he’s treated you.

He wishes you were his, but you’re not, and it’s his own damn fault for being so reckless. He should’ve been softer, more kind, like you. He should’ve done so many things, should’ve told you just how he felt. How much he likes you, how much he…

He winces in pain as Tommy presses down on the open wound, barely holding himself together to even keep his eyes open, but he fights. He fights for you. The girl he so desperately fell in love with over the last year, the girl he wished he treated differently. He should’ve fucking told you, but now it’s too late. It’s all too late.

“Hey, hey. Joel, look at me. Look at me!” You grab the sides of his face, sink your delicate fingers into the scruff of his greying beard, and cling to him just enough to where maybe he won’t slip through your fingers. You can’t lose him, you can’t.

“Joel, open your eyes. Please, keep them open for me.” You shake his head lightly, kneel over him and let your hair fall in a heap at your side as you pray for one more day with him. “Joel…”

Your voice is so sad, so desperate as you call out for him. He sees your face blur in his spotty vision, sees the glistening tears start to spill down your face. So he reaches up, musters up enough strength to wipe away the falling tears that stain your beautiful face. He thinks you’re so gorgeous, always has. Ever since you walked into his life, he knew. He knew he’d fall, and that’s why he pushed away so strongly. He didn’t want to lose you, he never wanted to. But now you were the one losing him…

He holds the side of your face for just a few more seconds, just enough to finally know he got you, some part of you, if only for a minute. And that was enough for him. At least he knew what it was like to feel your soft skin slipping under the weight of his calloused fingers. That moment alone was all he wanted.

He starts to close his eyes, starts to fade away into the midst of darkness and silence, but he hears you plead to stay in the light. “Stay in the light, Joel. Stay with me. Stay,” you beg. And he carries those words into the darkness with him. And then there’s nothing but the fading words of a promise he never could keep.

Stay in the light.

He awakes slowly, hearing the buzzing sound of some medical machine he doesn’t know the name of. Slowly but surely his eyes open as the harsh light from the blinding window slips against the warm sheets of the sterile bed. It takes him a second to come to himself, to know he’s not dead.

He looks cautiously down at his exposed torso, finding the tight bandage wrapped around his wound. It’s clean, mended to, but the pain burns through his body. Every breath he breathes feels like fire in his lungs, but at least he knows he’s alive.

He feels warmth sliding through his fingertips, feels comfort bubble over his entirety. He wonders what it is, wonders what thing could ever bring him comfort until he slowly turns his head and sees you sitting there on the edge of the bed, fingers laced through his while your thumb gently glides side to side in slow circles on the back of his rough hand.

His eyes go wide, eyebrows knit together as he stares wondrously at the girl he’s been pining over since the day he locked eyes on you. You look so goddamn beautiful there with your fingers threaded through his. He can feel it deep in his gut, that fluttering feeling he’s always tried so hard to push back down, but this time he can’t. He won’t. He can’t ignore the voices anymore that scream your name every single night he’s in between his sheets, wishing he could just have a chance to hold you, to feel you pressed against his firm chest. And maybe he would. One day. Maybe he still had time to make you his.

You hear a faint rustling sound in the sheets and turn your face slightly to the left, expecting it to only be your vivid imagination. Your jaw drops suddenly and your eyes go wide the moment you see Joel awake, breathing, alive.

“Joel!” You turn frantically and crowd his body, locking your arms tight around the back of his neck as you inhale his deep mahogany and pine cone scent.

“Ouch, take it easy!” Joel pants out as you jump back, realizing you might’ve hurt him with your body weight.

“I’m sorry, are you alright?” you ask as you assess his wound, running your fingers lightly over the bandaged area. He winces a little as you smooth out the edges, but he just hums in response.

“I’m fine. Jus’ calm down, will ya?”

You gently smile at him and brace your hands on the fitted sheets, just barely grazing your skin over his warm, sweaty body. Your eyes scan over his bare chest as you take in the coarse hair that covers his broad chest, watching the way the cool sweat glazes over tanned skin. You think he looks so beautiful, even after a gunshot wound. You’ve never seen him bare chested, and it surprises you what it makes you feel inside. Warmth.

“You came back to the light,” you whisper out, grazing your fingertips across the back of his hand as he stares wide-eyed at you, honey eyes so intense that you swear they’re about to split you in half. “I was so scared, Joel. You scared me half to death!”

He just watches you, eyes wading into yours like a violent tidepool about to drag you into the crashing waves, but there’s a fondness to them, a slight gleam in his eyes as he assesses you. Slow, curious, eyes that look like they might shed a tear.

“You… you saved my life today.” His tone is somber, his honey eyes wild as you see tears lick the surface, but he won’t dare shed them. Not in front of you. That’d be too vulnerable.

“Mhm. If Tommy wasn’t there, I don’t know how I would’ve ever gotten you up on that saddle alone. But we did it. We made it in time. I was so scared we were too late. You weren’t… you weren’t really breathing. Even the doctor was worried you wouldn’t make it. You’re a… well, a miracle.”

His face turns pale, lips parted solemnly as he breathes and lets oxygen back into his tired lungs. “Why did you save me?”

His words surprise you as you furrow your eyebrows and shift your weight slightly on the bed so you’re facing him. “What do you mean?” Your words come out shaky, appalled. What did he mean why did you save him?

“Why did you save me?” His honey eyes bore into yours, fingers flexing around the white sheets as he just stares with flared nostrils.

You place a hand gently on top of his warm hand as he tries to pull away, but you don’t let him. “Because I think you’re worth saving.”

His plush lips tremble, his eyes blowing wide as he takes in your quiet words. He looks like he wants to say something, looks like he’s fighting with himself in his mind, but he just stares unblinking, taking in the soft way you look at him.

Finally, he clears his deep voice and rasps out a response. “I’m not worth saving.” His eyes look so sad, defeated, and you wish you could take away all his pain. Physical and emotional, you’d take it all on if it meant he could have one single day where he didn’t wear the weight of the entire world on his tired back.

You lean forward as you hear the creak of the old bed and place your hand gently on his bare chest, feeling the bristles of coarse dark hair running down his tanned skin. “I think you are, Joel.”

He gulps, arms fidgeting beneath you as you see him fight with himself, battling the demons of reaching out or letting you slip through his grasp. He finally finds the courage to slowly, steadily crawl his hand up the side of his chest, then ever so softly places it on top of yours.

“Look, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for bein’ a jerk to you the past year. I was a real asshole, and there’s no excuse for the way I treated you. I think about it every single night, think about how I should’ve done better, how I should’ve tried harder because I… I…” Joel winces in pain as he tries to sit up, but you push him back down easily and try to get him to stay still.

“Hey, careful there. It’s okay, Joel. It’s…”

“No, please let me finish.” You nod your head and he continues with a low grunt through gritted teeth. “I should’ve been nicer to you. And I want to apologize for everything I’ve ever done, every hurtful thing I’ve ever said to you. I didn’t mean it, not really. I’ve jus’… I’ve been goin’ through a lot, but that’s no excuse. Because I should’ve told you how I felt about you, not pushed you away. You see, the thing is… well, thing is I like you, darlin’. A lot. You’re so fuckin’ beautiful and those eyes, that smile. I…”

You cut him off as you lean forward and crash your lips into his, letting his warmth overwhelm you as you slip into him. His tongue tastes like coffee, his skin smells of freshly cut firewood, and he feels so good in the palm of your hand. He surrounds you in something like warmth, ecstasy, something you’ve wanted to feel for so long. He glides his thick fingers through your hair and pulls you closer as he gets lost in you, overwhelming your senses until all you can smell, hear, feel is him. It feels so right, this feels right. You almost forget he’s injured until he grunts and shifts his weight to the right.

You quickly let go of the kiss and lean back, assessing if he’s alright, but he’s smiling. Warm, bright, glowing. You’ve never seen him like this, like he’s the happiest man in the world. It’s that twinkle in his chocolate irises that gets you, and you finally know that this is where you belong. In Jackson, with him.

He guides a strand of hair behind your ear and cups the side of your face as his warm, calloused thumb grazes gently across your cheekbone. “You kept me in the light, sweetheart. You’re exactly what I needed all along, I jus’ wish I didn’t wait so long to find the light.”

You sigh and smile. “It’s okay, Joel. You found it. You found me.”

“You gonna keep the light on for me, sweetheart?”

“Forever, if you want me to.”

He pulls you back in and grazes lightly over your lips as he whispers out, “Forever it is.”

Tagging some friends who might be interested 💛 @sawymredfox @burntheedges @littlevenicebitch69 @keylimebeag @vivian-pascal @rav3n-pascal22 @princesatracionera @bbyanarchist @amyispxnk @pedrostories @syd-djarin @msjarvis @untamedheart81 @survivingandenduring

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel x female reader #joel miller pedro pascal #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #joel x f!reader #post outbreak joel #outbreak!joel #jackson!joel

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deathbxnny · 19 days ago

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Hiya! Can I request Lynette, Kaeya, and Ayaka with a sibling!reader who sleep talks in their sleep?

I was inspired by my sibling who sleep talks the most random stuff in their sleep. We both shared a room together when we were younger, so I had heard some of the stuff they say. While my sibling never said if i myself sleep talk but apparently my assigned roommate yesterday told me they possibly? heard me sleep talk.. I wonder if it's genetic?

context:

Write however you want but please make what reader say either funny ("seelies taste like mist flower core") or heartwarming ("I'm so glad we're siblings -insert chosen character-")

Hope you have a lovely day/night!

-Flower Anon 🌸

Genshin characters with a sibling that talks in their sleep. | Kaeya, Ayaka, Lynette x Gn!Reader

Hello Flower Anon!! Thank you for your great request, I had a lot of fun writing this!<33

Content: Sibling reader, platonic relationships, unserious, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns!

((Not proofread))

》KAEYA

Said man was used to your rather odd sleeping habits since you were children in the dawn winery. Sleep talking was the norm for you, and whilst it usually was only a couple of words, it was still hilarious every time. This time, however, you actually spoke in whole sentences in your sleep during a sleepover at his humble home.

"... I want to eat snow so I can grow taller..." You whispered in the dead of night whilst he was busy completing the last of his paperwork. His head tilted to you in confusion, your back turned to him as you spoke. Were you asleep? He was unsure. "Hm? Why's that?" "Milk... makes you taller... and snow is white... so it's milk." Ah, you were definitely asleep. And quite responsive at that! Snorting, he put down his pen and crossed his arms, body leaning back in absolute amusement. "Oh? I didn't know that." "Many don't... no one can know this secret..." "I see, who told you about it though?" "... The snowmen. They are watching."

Kaeya raised a brow at the ominous message yet it took everything in him not to burst into laughter. You certainly wouldn't remember saying any of that in the morning... but he would for sure.

》Lynette

"If I drank all the sea water in Fountaine, would the fish float in place?" Silence overtook the bedroom you shared with your sister, who was very much unamused. She just wanted to sleep, and yet, your mind didn't let her even in your sleep. Deciding to ignore you, she pulled the blankets over her head and prayed you'd stop soon. But alas, you still had a lot more to share. "I think they will, because they can actually fly and are lying to us..." More silence, and the girl had to realise that you were in a better mood than usual. It wasn't abnormal for you to talk in your sleep but this was getting ridiculous!

Taking a deep breath, she lowered her blankets and gave your sleeping form an unimpressed glance. "Stay quiet and go to sleep properly." She muttered, but you clearly didn't seem to hate her properly in your dreams. "And you know what...? If the fish can fly... then Freminet can probably fly, too... oh my god, he can-" You were shaken from your deep sleep by a door slamming shut, as your sister fast walked down to another room with her blankets in hand.

You had the nerve to ask her why she left in the morning, clearly not remembering what happened, but she simply ignored you as a response with a tired huff.

》AYAKA

The one time you and Ayaka were sleeping in the same room, it definitely took her by surprise to see you sleep talking. It was certainly not common in the family. But what worried her the most were your ominous words. "What-" "-The birds... are walking towards us." You hummed into the darkness of the room, making your sister sit up in confusion. Had she accidentally left the door to the outside open? No way... she would've noticed the strong wind seeping in. She couldn't make out your form in the dimness of the room and therefore assumed that you were awake at first. "Uhm... where are they?" "They are on my head now, all three of them... and they can sing... but they are also red, so they shouldn't be able to."

Blinking, Ayaka slowly turned to your form next to her and out a hand on your shoulder carefully. Leaning forward, she could only barely see your closed eyes, which confirmed that you were indeed sleeping. Ah, so that was it... you were somehow sleep talking? "Oh... well, tell them you have to sleep." "Okay..." With a small hiccup, you relaxed back into a deep sleep, and the silence was deafening.

She definitely brought it up to an awfully amused Ayato the next morning, who reassured that this was normal for you. Expect to be teased about it, too.

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theauthorunicorn · 1 year ago

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Circles | Gojo Satoru

notes: in y/n's pov. another angst because I have to do it. inspired by circles by post malone.

Gojo Satoru x Reader

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆

Just like how the seasons transition, our love should stay the same. But suddenly, it seems like we are running in circles. Fed by our egos, we stayed. But deep inside, we know that it went cold like the first snow.

Satoru was everything in between in our teen years, but we grew old, and being in each other's arms is like a commodity. It felt like I was forced to be with the man that I love, but on my 25th birthday, I knew I had to let go or run away.

Another night was spent with mumbled cries from my eyes on this day. I celebrated my birthday alone; he simply forgot it.

"How could you forget about it?"

"Well, things might have slipped around my mind with everything I had to do, and it's just a birthday; we celebrated it years before, and we can celebrate tomorrow. It's not a big deal," Satoru explained as he walked from the living room to the kitchen.

"I just thought birthdays were special, Toru," I mumbled.

He grabbed a bottle of water and walked past me. "I said that we were going to celebrate it tomorrow, Y/N, okay? I'm tired. I don't want to argue with you."

I stared at him blankly and sighed, "Yeah."

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆

Tomorrow came and went, but he decided to take a last-minute mission. I let him go.

"So, you're going to leave and will not say or do anything?"

"Is this still about yesterday, Y/N? I told you we could do it later," Satoru explained plainly, with no emotion attached to his words. Was he even sorry? no.

"And I'll be waiting on you again?" I asked him.

"Yeah, if you want."

I chuckled lightly. "Just make up your mind, Gojo." caught his attention. "Tell me what you're going to do. I dare you to tell me what we're going to do with this relationship. I'm tired of waiting on you." I said as coldly as I could.

Whatever he's doing, he stops. He opens his mouth to try and say something, but no words come out.

I took the liberty to say the last words to fill the gap: "I want you to tell me that you don't love or care about me anymore, Satoru. I want you to let me go. So, I don't take the blame when we fell."

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk angst #jujutsu kaisen angst #gojo angst #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #satoru angst #satoru x reader #satoru x y/n #satoru x you #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru angst #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you

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floralcyanide · 4 months ago

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⊱ 𝑆𝑡𝑎𝑦 𝐺𝑜𝑙𝑑 ― 𝐶𝑜𝑟𝑖𝑜𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑢𝑠 𝑆𝑛𝑜𝑤 ⊰

[ ᴀ ʜᴜɴɢᴇʀ ɢᴀᴍᴇs ᴀʟᴛᴇʀɴᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴜɴɪᴠᴇʀsᴇ ғᴀɴғɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ]

1960s ᴜs ᴘʀᴇsɪᴅᴇɴᴛᴀʟ ᴄᴀɴᴅɪᴅᴀᴛᴇ!ᴄᴏʀɪᴏʟᴀɴᴜs sɴᴏᴡ x ғᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑝𝘵𝑒𝑟 𝑠𝑖𝑥 (ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑐𝑎𝑛𝘰𝑛𝑠): 𝑖𝑛𝘵𝘰 𝘵ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑘

౨ৎ 18+ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀs ᴏɴʟʏ !

⊹ summary: the years following you and Coriolanus’ wedding.

⊹ pairing: young!coriolanus snow / fem!reader

⊹ warnings: major character death, mentions of death, mentions of illness, assassination, violence, rioting, mentions of pregnancy, grief

⊹ word count: 1264

⊹ author’s note: I PROMISE I WROTE THIS BEFORE THE EVENTS OF YESTERDAY LOL. (the assassination attempt against trump) I noticed the other day it had been longer than I had thought that I had updated this fic. and I've only just gotten around to feeling like writing. but it's coincidental, I swear; this has been in the plot document for this fic for a while. I hope everyone enjoys this update and I'm sorry in advance lol

౨ৎ divider credit: @cafekitsune

౨ৎ sᴇʀɪᴇs ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛ | sᴇʀɪᴇs sᴏᴜɴᴅᴛʀᴀᴄᴋ | sᴇʀɪᴇs ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

౨ৎ this fic has been cross posted to ao3.

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ.

❝Let us not emphasize all on which we differ but all we have in common. Let us consider not what we fear separately but what we share together.❞ ― John F. Kennedy

✲ Being Coriolanus’ wife meant meeting a lot of people very quickly, including none other than Martin Luther King Jr. He and the Kennedys have worked closely together during Jack’s presidency, and since Coriolanus was leading the polls, the man decided it was time to meet the striking blonde politician to discuss some things.

✲ You and MLK Jr.’s wife, Coretta, chat at the dinner the Kings had set up while the two men wander off to talk privately. She asks you if you have thought about having children as of yet, and you sigh with a knowing smile, “We’ve been thinking about it.”

✲ It’s been a thing for the media and just about everyone to ask when you and Coriolanus were having kids. You felt pressure, but Coriolanus assured you that you could wait until you were ready.

✲ The day after your dinner with the Kings, the names of the women who are the face of the Women’s Revolution are splattered across news outlets everywhere due to their march in Washington. Katniss Everdeen and Lucy Gray Baird Lead America’s Women!

✲ Coriolanus is bombarded with questions everywhere he’s seen. But he says to wait until the debate for any further comments about the matter. You worry about the escalation of the movement but decide to keep to yourself about it. Even though you’re nearly finished with your higher education, you’re still a woman, so your opinion doesn’t matter much politically at the moment.

✲ The debate comes and goes, with Coriolanus still leading the polls. It seems this election is secured for him so far. However, some of the major events happening right now are bothering him, so he decides to pay Jack a visit in the White House, you tagging along, of course. Coriolanus asks him how he managed to make decisions during the Bay of Pigs invasion and during the Cuban Missile Crisis.

✲ “There are going to be difficult times, Coriolanus. But don’t let it scare you. In fact, let it inspire you to work harder to make a change.”

✲ Coriolanus is more sure of himself after that. November comes around, and to no one’s surprise, Coriolanus wins the 1964 Election by a large margin, with Sejanus Plinth as his Vice President.

✲ The first year is hard, but it is for every president. You eventually finish your research on Jack and present your work, earning your hard-earned diploma. You are now a doctor in political science. Everyone is extremely proud, including your fellow Americans. They beg the question of what you’re to do with your accomplishments if women don’t have the same opportunities as men. To which you answer, “We shall figure that out soon.” You are certain Coriolanus will go through with his promises.

✲ 1966 comes around the corner almost menacingly. Tensions are high- riots break out in the streets over economic trouble, and women are growing tired of the poor treatment of their employers. Bobby and MLK Jr. seem to fuel the fire when they speak out against the violence in the streets, saying there’s a better way to get the point across.

✲ Jack falls ill and ends up in the hospital in late February. Coriolanus puts meetings and speeches on hold, clearing the entire week out of duties to visit Jack. You are by his side as he watches his best friend suffer. The family comes back together to take care of Jack. You try your best to console Jackie as she’s beside herself with worry.

✲ “I don’t think he’s going to pull out of this one, darling,” Jackie frowns, “He isn’t young and isn’t able to bounce back like he used to. I’m afraid this is it.” You assure Jackie her husband will be fine, but you aren’t so sure. The pneumonia doesn’t seem to be resolving itself.

✲ A week after Jack is admitted to the hospital, he dies. Coriolanus and Bobby are on one side of his bed, Jackie and the kids on the other as Jack takes his last breath. You hold yourself together as long as possible until you and Coriolanus eventually return to the White House. When you settle in your room for privacy, you lose it. You burst into tears as you picked up and tossed anything readily available next to you across the room.

✲ Coriolanus pulls you into his arms, trying to calm you to the best of his ability. Both of you cry together over losing a friend. A friend who happened to bring the two of you together in life and love.

✲ More tragedy strikes the family. Bobby holds a convention to speak out in favor of women’s rights, but only under one condition- that the rioting stops. This angers many, causing a fight to break out and eventually, shots are fired. One was aimed directly at Bobby’s head. He doesn’t survive.

✲ You knew Bobby’s wife, Ethel, very well, and you and Jackie are there for her in her time of need. The Kennedy family is in shambles at this point. Everyone seems to think that the women from the movement are responsible for assassinating Bobby, but no one has proof. It isn’t until August that someone is held responsible.

✲ Martin Luther King Jr. Shot in Memphis is across every headline around the world. Yet another significant figure is brought down. Yet another friend is murdered. Yet another wife is to be consoled by other women who have been in her shoes, losing a husband suddenly. You aren’t sure what to think anymore.

✲ The radical members of the Women’s Revolution refuse to take sole responsibility for the assassinations, but some are arrested for conspiracy anyway. Many suspect Katniss Everdeen or Lucy Gray Baird as the masterminds of the plots.

✲ With the darkness of the world growing as each day passes, you don’t realize you’ve missed your period. When you do, you figure it’s from the stress of losing dear friends. But Coriolanus urges you to go to the doctor anyway.

✲ In December 1966, you find out you are pregnant. You decide, no matter the gender, their name is to be Kennedy, after your dear friends you’ve lost.

✲ The First Lady being pregnant is a beacon of hope for the nation in its darkest hour. Everyone waits patiently for you to start showing and to find out what gender the baby is.

✲ Coriolanus decides to be bold and requests to do a motorcade through D.C. to lift the spirits of the people. The Secret Service is weary but obliged to Coriolanus’ wishes.

✲ When in the motorcade, you clutch Coriolanus’ hand nervously. “Go on, sweetheart,” Coriolanus mumbles in your ear, “Wave to the people. They love it, they love you.” You stare at your husband for a moment in absolute awe as he basks in the glow of attention from the crowd. He effortlessly smiles, his eyes twinkling in unbridled pride- a rare emotion you see from him. Sure, he has his moments of pride, but not like this. The last time he looked this happy was the day he married you.

✲ It’s been hard for Coriolanus, you’ve noticed. Juggling the presidency while losing those close to him. But you think today has helped more than you possibly could have, especially since you’ve been grieving, too.

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itsrlymine · 3 days ago

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Heyyy its 🥝 anon again!! Thought I'd give u a last of what I've manifested in the past few days.

-my skin has cleared up insanely. I used to have such visible blackheads and now they're so faint that I know they're already gone 💯

- I had fireworks going off while I was trying to sleep the other night. And normally they go off for aaaaages like 30 mins to an hour but as soon as they started going i was like 'nawr everyones gone back inside its so quiet, its too cold for fireworks theyve all gone to bed'. The noises faded and then popped back up for a couple more blasts but i persisted that it was quiet and they stopped after 4 minutes. Guess it was too cold and everyone went to bed!!!

- I'd been craving ice cream for a few days. I wasnt sure how but i knew I was going to get ice cream. I even visualised an uber eats delivery on my kitchen counter with my dessert in it. That night my younger sister suggests to my mum that we get milkshakes/ice cream.

-saw a subliminal about DP texting you fast. I dont have a desired person but I kinda entertained the thought of someone texting me. No one in particular. I don't really have any active texts atm. But then a friend who I hadnt spoken to in a month sent me a text not even two minutes later.

- my dad had been chilling on the sofa for ages and I was getting huuungry. Literally thought about my dad getting up to go get food, like visualised him standing up. Then TWO SECONDS LATER HE DOES. He gets up off the sofa and asks what i want for lunch.

-my fave one so far. I've wanted it to snow for a while and I'm aiming for a white christmas. I saw the weather reports yesterday and it was gonna rain this whole week. No sign of snow. (I had also manifested it raining lolol). I saw those reports and went "bro they dont know what theyre talking about its literally gonna snow". Woke up this morning to snow out the window and my sister messaging the family chat in confusion.

Actual messages:

Mum: Anyone have snow? @ oldersister , am guessing you do.

Older Sister: What the fuck

OS: Yes I do

OS: [pic of fully snowy rooftops]

OS: That’s so odd

OS: It wasn’t meant to snow here

😌😌😌✍️✍️✍️✍️

U already knowwwwww im the creator

🥝 baby I've missed you!!!!!! Not you inspired the song Let It Snow cmon!! I love all these successes and they are proof of how easy this truly is when we just remember who we are - the center of everything!!!! You better work creator!!!! No matter what method you use, it's always gonna work bc at the end of the day it's you!!!!!!!!! Thank you so much for sharing my love.

#🥝 anon #itsrlymine #anon ask #success story #loa success #law of assumption #imagination is reality #loa tumblr #lawofassumption #manifesting #loassumption #shifting #reality shift

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wifeofsnowbaird · 10 months ago

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You Can't, You Can't Catch me Now I'm coming like storm into your town

Part 1/Part 2/Part 3/rest on Masterlist

[Mentor!Coriolanus Snow x time-travel, thg-era, tribute!reader x toxic!Finnick Odair (in the Peacekeeper era)]

Warning: gore, blood, gun and knife violence, serious injury, death, physical assult, possibly non-con...as I said, maybe...

Summary: You are a rebel, the last chance of the rebellion against President Snow. You're told to go on one last mission to kill the man who massacred Panem. It took you years to understand your mission when you became [name] Lily Baird, starting from the age of five till before the reaping day of the 10th Hunger Games.

The day you began your plan to destroy President Snow before he became the villain he was meant to become.

'Both sisters, Lucy Gray and [Name] Lily Baird are a part of the Covey, and though they have been chosen as tribute for both District 12 and 9 because of our own mistakes, we hope they will stay safe.'

You knew about [Name] Lily Baird, named after her because your mother was inspired by her fiery personality and strength, but now you realize that you were transported to a time before the Baird sisters died, one of sickness and one because of Coriolanus Snow himself.

'I will kill you, President Coriolanus Snow.'

Coriolanus stood beside his cousin, lost in his train of thought. Tigris paused to question him about his tribute since he had mentored her during the day before noticing a scratch on his face.

‘Coryo! Why haven’t you put a bandaid onto that cut?’

Coriolanus glanced at Tigris before gazing at the scratch on his hand.

He was sure that the scar on his face was worse than his hand but he abandoned the thought of covering it because…Well, what if [Name] Lily Baird had attacked him because she liked him? He had seen her red face multiple times and she always ended up extending her claws like a cat.

‘They’re her marks on my skin.’ Coriolanus shrugged, glancing back at Tigris as she stood by the stove lost in shock. She grimaced as he gently smiled at the thought and walked to the dining table where Grandma’am sat.

The old woman glanced at him before settling down and calling a maid to hand her the scarf.

Grandma’am has always been stuck in a world before the Civil War between the Capital and the Districts so Coriolanus intervened through the elder woman's anger at a non-existent person and went to fetch it from another room.

Tigris sighed, gazing back at the boiling cabbage in a hot pan in front. Her mind kept on sliding back to her cousin’s answer about why his tribute kept on attacking him.

‘ Her marks on my skin? Well, isn’t he delusional…’ Tigris mumbled before going back to the hot pan on the stove.

‘Sejanus,’ the boy beside Coriolanus looked up at the blonde near him.

‘Yeah? You need something?’

‘Does [Name] Lily attack the other tributes like she does to me?’

Sejanus stopped chewing midway through the sandwich Ma had made.

‘No, she’s nice once you meet her the second time. I saw her with Dill, Wovey, and Reaper once and she was teaching them about how to tell the difference between certain seeds for some reason.’ He shrugged. ‘Apparently, Wovey and Dill were interested…Why though?’

Sejanus then glanced at the scars Coriolanus had received from his tribute and frowned, having heard about what happened yesterday. Tigris had told him about it when he had stopped by their penthouse.

‘So…I’m the only one? I’m special to her?’

Clemensia Dovecote, one of his acquaintances since they weren’t close, interrupted the conversation before Sejanus could respond.

‘Listen, Coryo, don’t get caught up in your delusions. She hates you, I’m sure about that.’

Coriolanus scoffed at the girl in front of him before grinning at you while you were being dragged by a Peacekeeper.

He stepped towards you, ignoring his friends' comments, and wrapped a hand around your waist but was pushed away.

‘Get off me!’ You sneered before stomping away in an angry fit.

Coriolanus glanced back at his friends but ignored them once they shook their heads, mentally telling him that, ‘they told him so.’ But unfortunately, he had lost himself to you.

At least to his future First Lady of Panem.

One sentence kept repeating in his head while he was following you,

‘I’m her only, she made me claim her as mine.’

And without sensing the slight possessiveness coming from your mentor, you glared at the arrogant boy who was meant to keep you safe.

‘Really wish I could destroy you now, Coriolanus Snow.’

next chapter is gonna be Sej x Lucy Gray sooooo be warned ig?

#tom blyth #tom blyth imagine #ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow x reader #hunger games #president snow #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus imagine #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #yandere coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x you #young coriolanus snow #coriolanus smut #sejanus plinth #snow lands on top #thg tbosas

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still-a-morosexual-help · 2 years ago

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Part 2 of this (diavolo & lucifer being very gay in canon) because I ran out of space in the first one

1. The entire Devildom thinks Diavolo & Lucifer are dating/in love;

2. It just sounds cute okay

3. Diavolo apparently notices when Lucifer's pupil dilates by 2mm 😐

4. Diavolo probably has a 500pg book about how great Lucifer is

5. Remember how much Diavolo gushed about Lucifer's butler uniform, took a lot of pictures of it etc? Apparently he saved that uniform or had a new one made, then took the first chance he saw

6. Cottagecore?

7. Diavolo finds Lucifer sneezing cute😬

8. Diavolo prioritises Lucifer over everything, even his own kingdom & the way Simeon keeps poking at it & Diavolo keep avoiding directly answering him + Simeon later teases Lucifer about Diavolo liking him in S3👀

9. The snow sculpture which looked incredibly realistic and had absolutely nothing to do with Christmas

Can't have more screenshots so here's some important conversation word for word:

10. Diavolo, after meeting Lucifer for the first time, Lucifer tries his best to act like an ass to make Diavolo hate him but Diavolo still treats him kindly. Lucifer despises Diavolo at the moment because he's a Demon who according to Lucifer & the Celestial Realm can't even have a "well-ordered society". Diavolo somehow in a single night manages to form a crack in Lucifer's prejudices & make him doubt his Father who he holds in very high esteem. Diavolo also uses chess to prove his point about creating peace and a balance between the three worlds. This is the conversation that follows:

Lucifer (an angel): I see. ...Diavolo. Your strategy truly is fascinating. Do you think we could get together sometime? I'd like to learn more about it.

Diavolo: Are you talking about chess now? Or the nature of our relationship?

Lucifer: Heh...

^The ambiguity Lucifer uses when talking gives that old queer feeling of: Our relationship (whatever it may be) is very forbidden and anyone catching wind of it will be bad so for plausible deniability I'm going to tie the true meaning of this conversation to something more innocuous

11. Conversation they have after this^ flashback/particular conversation:

Diavolo: ...That's when you finally held out your hand to me, and we shook. The way you radiated charm as you smiled at me. I still remember it like it was yesterday. When I saw the look on your face I was convinced. You were fair and righteous, someone who would be able to lend an ear to anyone, to listen to what they had to say. Someone who had a truly beautiful spirit.

In other words Diavolo has the worst case of rose-tinted glasses, specially considering Lucifer was choking Mammon & trying to rip his arm of while Diavolo said all this.

12. Diavolo (in demon form): Back when he was an angel, he was so divine, so awe-inspiring that it was intimidating. But now he's attractive in a different sort of way. He draws your eye toward him and then doesn't let go. He truly is worthy of the moniker "Morning Star"! Even steeped in the darkness of the Devildom, he shines just as brilliantly as ever!

Lucifer (in demon form), blushing: ...Diavolo, could we change the subject, please?

Lucifer (in demon form): I've told you that it embarrasses me when you shower me with such excessive praise in public.

Diavolo (in demon form): Afterall you're already beautiful enough as it is!

a.) This is Gomez Addams level of devoted jfc

b ) Diavolo was straight up reciting poetry at one point

c.)......What's with "in public"....so it's fine in private?

d.) Diavolo gushing about Lucifer has the same energy as Mammon gushing about MC

e.) What do I have to do for someone to be this in to me?

13. Diavolo has multiple copies of Lucifer in a swimsuit saved in different places (not the swimsuit he wears around MC & his brothers btw but the one he wears around Diavolo which is actually just trunks and & an open hoodie/shirt)

14. Diavolo might actually have a whole file of rare pictures of Lucifer? He's got the butler ones, the swimsuit ones and the candid glasses one that he threatened some poor guy to delete after saving a copy for himself

15. The ship in a bottle that Diavolo gave Lucifer, that he loves so much he keeps it in a place where he can always see it

16. Lucifer: No, that scream was far too vile to have come from Diavolo.

....so you know what he sounds like when he screams and you think it sounds good...?🤨

17. Diavolo gives a flustered Lucifer a piggyback ride around RAD

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blackbat05 · 6 months ago

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Title: Christmas Came Early

Sincaraz, Fedal

A/N: Credits to @schumiatspa I hope you don’t mind but I saw your post about Fedal’s LV shoot and I was simply inspired to write a quick one😬 Other tags that I saw: @jannlitos @insilanar @cissi-sh01 (shoot I forgot other accounts) - I hope y’all don’t mind me tagging please tell me if u do mind I’ll take it down.

“Please?”

“No.”

“Pretty please?”

“No.”

Roger chuckles as he watches the scene of Rafa moving behind the counter of their rented ski lodge with Carlos pleading as he trailed behind like a lost puppy.

“I’m going to make a fool of myself.” Shoulders slumped, Carlos surprisingly inches towards the door to take a peek outside the snow covered porch. “What am I supposed to say?”

“Uh… how about just asking him for a ski lesson?” Roger suggests. It takes him great effort to not burst into laughter at the sight of the young man about to enter the phase of a mental breakdown.

“Carlitos,” Rafa pipes up as he exits the counter with two glasses of wine, one in each hand. “Remember what we discussed about?”

Roger lifts a brow. What did they discuss about?

Carlos gives a sigh.

“If I want it, I have to work for it. Take risks.” Carlos recited as if it came straight out from a book.

“That’s right.” Rafa affirms. He places both glasses on the coffee table and makes a shooing gesture. “Now go. I have to watch this Home Alone movie that Roger wants to show me. He says it’s a must watch for Christmas.”

“It is. It’s a classic.” Roger sees a tuft of ginger hair whizzing past their lodge. “Rafa’s right. You should seize the moment.”

***

“You can do this. You can do this.” Carlos mumbles under his breath. Decked in ski gear, Carlos was determined to catch the attention of the ski instructor that was at the beginner’s slope yesterday.

Building up his confidence, Carlos takes a step into the snow and-

“Watch out!”

A hand reaches out to grab Carlos by the wrist, pulling him inwards and away from the hurtling skier who zoomed past the pair, leaving them covered in specks of snow.

“Are you alright?”

Carlos’ brain momentarily freezes. He recognizes that voice from a mile away.

Jannik glances at him, looking absolutely gorgeous in that red ski gear. “Are you injured anywhere?”

“Uh… no. I’m okay. Thanks.” Carlos barely manages to string his words together. Remember what Rafa said.

“You look good!”

Jannik cocks his head slightly at the sudden confession, curls bouncing against his forehead. Meanwhile, Carlos wished that the snow would swallow him whole and preserve him until the next century.

“I mean you look great on the slope! No- what I meant was would you like to ski sometime?”

Great. Real smooth Carlos.

Jannik smiles at the man in front of him trying to gather his bearings for this exact moment. He’s happy- ecstatic even. But he forces himself to remain calm so that poor Carlos wouldn’t be even more stressed than he already is.

“I would love to. In fact I’m actually free now and I have my break until two. Would you like to get lunch? The tomato soup is excellent with basil bread.”

It’s adorable honestly, when Carlos realizes he had gained more than he had bargained for.

“Shall we?” Jannik suggests.

“Lead the way.”

***

“You think Carlos is okay?” Roger asks as he takes a sip of the wine while Home Alone plays in the background.

“He’ll be fine.”

“You sound very sure.” Roger grabs the last biscuit, taking the empty plate to the sink.

“He’s our son. Of course he’ll be fine.” Rafa doesn’t bat an eyelid as he watches the intruders being outsmarted once again. “By the way, this movie is good. Do you have any other movies to recommend? Roger? Rogi?” Rafa repeats. He frowns when there is no response.

Rafa pauses the movie to find Roger staring into the ski slopes. “What are you doing?”

“Watching our son.”

“Our son?” Rafa squeezes beside Roger to see Carlos skillfully making his way down the slope with a familiar ginger at his side.

“Before you say anything. You were right.” Roger raises his hand in defeat, preparing to retreat back to the sofa.

“Wait. What? I couldn’t hear you properly.” Rafa teases, hot on his heels.

“I said YOU WERE RIGHT.”

#sincaraz #fedal #there i did it with my remaining cells

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mimisempai · 6 months ago

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THE 1001 INEFFABLE NIGHTS -

The blood-red-haired princess and the seven little demons

Summary

It has become a ritual for Aziraphale to read a bedtime story to their twins, Alexis and Cassandra. And Crowley is also an eager listener.

But tonight the children want a short story with a happy ending.

Isn't it time to revisit fairy tales in an ineffable way?

Notes

Inspired by this beautiful drawing by @gleafer here Oh and yes I have no idea what I am doing but I am doing it anyway...

On Ao3

Rating G - 4078 words

"Pa! Dad! We want a story!"

As Crowley made his way to the nursery, he couldn't help but chuckle as he heard the twins calling Aziraphale for what had become an inevitable bedtime ritual.

He knew exactly what sight awaited him the moment he entered Alexis and Cassandra's bedroom. A sight he would never tire of seeing.

Aziraphale was helping his daughter put on her onesie when he replied, "We finished Estelle the Star Fairy yesterday. What shall I read to you tonight?"

"Not a long story!"

"A story with a happy ending!"

"One that doesn't need a book!"

Crowley leaned against the door frame and looked fondly at his family.

"Hmmm, I don't think I've ever read or told you any fairy tales, have I?"

"Oh no! What's this?"

As Aziraphale climbed onto the twins' bed and sat against the headboard, Crowley sat on the floor against the wall and watched as the twins settled on either side of his husband, snuggling up to him. Aziraphale winked at him before wrapping his arms around the children.

Crowley made a small gesture to dim the lights and waited almost as eagerly as his children for his husband to tell a new story.

"I'm going to tell you the story of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, but in a slightly different way. Let's say it's about Rose and the seven little demons."

Crowley frowned as Aziraphale continued, "Like all great stories, it begins..."

Crowley couldn't help but interrupt, "In a garden."

"Dad! It's Pa telling the story!"

Crowley chuckled and let Aziraphale continue.

"Once upon a time there was a queen who tended her precious roses in the castle garden. Everyone came to admire her garden because her roses were all a distinctive yellow, reminiscent of the most beautiful sunsets over the sea.

On day, her attention caught by a butterfly flying around one of her rose bushes, she paid no attention and pricked herself on a rose thorn.

A drop of crimson blood fell on one of the petals, and as she watched the little red spot form a star on the warm-coloured petal, she put her hand on her already well-rounded belly and said softly, "Ah, if only my child could have hair as red as blood and eyes as beautiful as the yellow of my roses".

Some deity must have heard her prayer, because a few weeks later she gave birth to a daughter whose hair was as red as blood and whose eyes were as warm as her precious roses. Needless to say, the little baby was named Rose.

As the child grew in wisdom and beauty, her mother sadly fell ill and died.

Rose's father quickly found a new wife to give his little girl a new mother.

But he hadn't seen the real side of his new wife, who was proud and haughty. So haughty, in fact, that she couldn't bear anyone to surpass her in beauty.

She had a magnificent mirror in her room, which was not only beautiful, but magical, and when she stood in front of it and saw her reflection, she would whisper to it, "Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who in this land is the fairest of all?"

The mirror would always reply, "You, O Queen, are the fairest of them all," and the queen would be satisfied, for the magic of this mirror was to tell the truth.

Rose grew and became more beautiful, so much so that by the time she was 16, rumours spread throughout the land that the young princess was the most beautiful of all women.

When the queen heard these rumours, she decided to consult her magic mirror and asked once again, "Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who in this country is the fairest of them all".

The mirror replied, "You are beautiful among the most beautiful women, but Rose is the most beautiful of all in this country."

The queen, shocked, was overcome with jealousy, and from then on, every time she looked at Rose, hatred grew in her heart, leaving her no peace, neither day nor night.

The day her husband, the king, left on a journey, she sent for a huntsman and told him, "Take the princess into the forest. Kill her and bring me her lungs and liver as proof that you've fulfilled your mission. If you do not obey, I will have your wife and children killed."

The hunter had no choice but to obey and carry out his mission, but as he was about to pierce the innocent princess' heart deep in the forest, she began to cry and beg him, "Oh, dear hunter, let me live! I'll run away into the wild forest and never return to the castle!"

Seeing in her one of his daughters, he took pity on the princess and said, "Run away, my poor girl, and never come back."

He watched her go deeper into the forest, then did what he knew best: he hunted and brought back the lungs and heart of a bear to the queen as proof that he had accomplished his mission.

Now the poor princess was all alone in the great forest, and she kept on running, making her way through the thicker and thicker bushes, the thorns clawing at her, her shoes tearing on the sharp stones, but she didn't stop, she kept on running.

Suddenly there were no more bushes, she felt soft grass under her feet and saw a small thatched cottage ahead.

She hesitated for a moment, but exhaustion overcame her scruples and she decided to enter. She couldn't stop herself from gasping, for everything in the thatched cottage was small. Neat and clean, but small even if in a cute way.

The table was topped with a white cloth and had seven place settings, surrounded by seven small chairs.

At the back were seven small beds against the wall, neatly made and looking so comfortable.

Rose was so worn out that she only took a small piece of bread and a sip of water before making her way to the beds. They were all quite small, so she pushed one against the other before dropping down and falling asleep immediately.

It was well into the night when the door of the thatched cottage creaked open to admit seven little demons, so alike they were indistinguishable.

The first lit the candles, the second put wood in the fireplace, which the third lit.

The fourth said, "Someone has bitten into my piece of bread.

The fifth said, "Someone has drunk from my glass of water.

The sixth approached the beds and said, "Someone is sleeping on my bed."

The seventh replied, "On mine too."

They all gathered around the beds, and the first who had lit the candles drew one close to the sleeping figure on their bed, and they all uttered the same gasp of surprise as they murmured heartily, "How beautiful she is!"

"What lovely fiery hair!"

As the young princess seemed harmless to them, they tacitly agreed not to wake her and to wait until the next day.

After a meal accompanied by whispers, they all went to bed, those whose beds were free squeezing in and offering a place to those who had none.

It was a ray of sunlight that woke Rose in the morning, and she sat up briskly before retreating to the wall at the sight of the seven little demons.

But when her eyes met only friendly smiles, she relaxed slightly and smiled back before sheepishly apologising for using their home without permission.

They looked very strange, with their horn-like hair and black-rimmed eyes.

The nearest one asked gently, "What's your name?"

"My name is Rose."

Then, faced with their pressing questions, she told them her story.

"What were the demons' names?"

Aziraphale paused to look down at his son, who had just asked him the question, before replying, "They were all called Eric."

"What?"

Aziraphale nodded and smiled at Crowley's sneer before replying, "Yes. Eric."

"But how did anyone know who they were?"

"There was Eric the Dopey, Eric the Doc, Eric the Bashful, Eric the Sneezy."

"Because he sneezed all the time?"

"That's right, honey. There was Eric the Happy, Eric the Sleepy and finally Eric the Grumpy."

"Like Dad?"

"Hey!"

Aziraphale chuckled and replied, "Absolutely, like Dad in the morning."

"Pa?"

"Yes, sweetie."

Aziraphale looked at his daughter who asked, "Were their horns like mine?"

Cassandra raised her hand to the two small horns on her forehead, around which fell a few curls of the same red colour as her father's.

Aziraphale pressed a kiss to her forehead and replied, "Not quite. No one has horns as beautiful as yours, sweetie."

"Oh, I love you so much, Pa."

Then the two children snuggled up to their father again, and after exchanging an emotional look with Crowley, Aziraphale continued his story.

"The little demons told Rose she could stay with them and wouldn't want for anything, all she had to do was look after the house when they went out to harvest and pick.

But Rose didn't like sitting around doing nothing, so to thank them for their generosity, she decided to keep the house clean and cook for them. Then, when she'd finished her daily chores, she'd leave the cottage and sit on the grass by the little pond where a family of ducks had made their home.

As for the queen, she slept peacefully, believing that Rose was no longer of this world.

But one morning, dressed in her finest clothes, she stood before the mirror and asked, "Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who in this country is the fairest of them all?"

The mirror replied, "Oh, Queen, you are the fairest of all I see, but on the other side of the hills, in the heart of the forest where the seven demons live, Rose is the fairest of all."

The queen was furious when she realised that the hunter had betrayed her and that the princess was still alive.

She thought all day and all night, and when the morning came, she knew what she had to do.

She locked herself in her room and disguised herself as an old peddler whose identity no one could guess. In this disguise, she made her way to the clearing of the seven demons, and when she was sure that only the princess was in the cottage, she left the forest and knocked on the door of the little house.

She saw Rose leaning out of the window and the princess asked, "My good lady, what are you selling?"

"Pretty things for pretty girls, look, I've got lots of pretty satin ribbons for your corset."

Rose was a young woman, she loved fine things, and she thought the old lady was harmless, so she was tempted and bought some blue satin laces from the old lady, who offered to help her replace the old laces on her corset.

The princess went out of the thatched cottage and, with her back to the old lady, let her tie the lace in her corset to replace the old one.

The old woman squeezed the ribbon so hard that Rose was out of breath and fell as if dead.

The old woman leaned over her and whispered in a sinister voice, "Now I'm the fairest of them all," then stomped off into the forest.

Soon after, the seven demons arrived at the house and were shocked to find their beautiful princess lying motionless on the floor.

Eric the Doc, who could see the reason for her condition from his blue lips, asked his brothers to help him turn her over. Seeing that the ribbons were too tight, they cut them and it wasn't long before Rose was back to life.

After she told them what had happened, Eric the Grumpy pointed his finger at her and said, "Watch out for everyone. That peddler was probably the queen."

Rose promised, and that evening the seven demons hovered around her until they were sure she was safe.

The queen arrived at the castle, took off her disguise and stood before the mirror again, "Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who in this country is the fairest of them all?"

The mirror replied, "Oh, Queen, you are the most beautiful of all those I see, but on the other side of the hills, in the heart of the forest where the seven demons dwell, Rose is the most beautiful in all the country".

When the queen heard this, her blood ran cold and she was frightened to see that her plan had failed once again.

Descended from a long line of witches, she fashioned a poisoned comb, then took the appearance of another old woman and once again made her way to the clearing of the seven demons.

This time the princess sat alone by the pond, her beautiful red hair unbound and falling in wavy cascades over her shoulders.

The old woman exclaimed, "I only sell the most precious things. I have just the thing for your beautiful fiery hair. Look at this magic comb, young lady, for just a few coins it'll make your hair even shinier."

Seeing the young princess's suspicious look, the old lady took a comb from her pocket and ran it through her own hair, "Look my child, it's harmless!"

Rose allowed herself to be tempted again and the old lady said in a gentle tone, "Come my sweet, let me comb it for you."

Rose complied, and no sooner had the old woman run the poisoned comb through her hair than the poison began to spread, and it took only a few seconds for the young princess to fall unconscious.

"Who is the most beautiful now?"

The old woman laughed sardonically.

When the demons returned to the cottage, they were astonished to find that everything was dark.

"Rose?"

Only the quacking of ducks near the pond answered them, drawing their attention back to the pond. They ran over and saw Rose's silhouette on the ground.

They immediately suspected it was another of the queen's tricks, and after a few moments found the poisoned comb.

No sooner had they removed it than Rose regained consciousness and soon told them what had happened in the safety of the thatched cottage.

They warned her again and decided that they would take turns standing guard every day.

At home, the queen went to the mirror again and asked, "Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who in this country is the fairest of them all".

It answered as before, "Oh, Queen, you are the fairest of all those I see, but on the other side of the hills, in the heart of the forest where the seven demons live, Rose is the fairest of all the country."

The queen exploded with rage and took a whole month to devise the perfect plan to create the potion from which the young princess would never recover. She dipped a beautiful red apple in the potion, placed it in the middle of an apple basket, disguised herself as an old hunchbacked lady and set off once more to clearing of the seven demons.

Crowley chuckled, "Got to hand it to the persistent bugger."

"Dad, let Pa tell the story. I want to know how it ends before I fall asleep!"

As Cassandra admonished him, Crowley saw their son Alexis spread his little white wings and had no time to react before he found himself with a little angel in his lap. Alexis, the image of his angelic father, said, "Cassie's right, Dad, I want to know the end before I fall asleep too."

Crowley, unable to refuse his son who was giving him the same pleading look as his father when he wanted something, let him cuddle up to him and said to his husband, "Go on, Angel."

Aziraphale blew him a kiss with his fingertips and resumed his story.

"When nothing happened for a month, the demons left Rose alone again during the day, and one day the persevering queen arrived in the clearing, approaching the thatched cottage with a stooped step, carrying her basket of apples.

Then she dropped and cried out, "Help! I'm an old woman! I can't get up by myself."

Despite the demons' warnings, Rose couldn't stop herself from helping the battered-looking old woman. She rushed to the old woman's side, picked up the apples and put them back in the basket.

The old woman exclaimed, "Thank you, my child. How kind you are! To thank you for helping me, I give you this beautiful red apple".

Seeing the princess's fear, the old woman took another apple from the basket and bit into it. Convinced, Rose took the red apple and bit into it wholeheartedly.

One bite was enough for the poison to take effect and the young princess fell to the ground, her eyes empty and all life gone from her face.

"Rose, with hair as red as blood and eyes as warm as the setting sun, not even the demons can wake you this time."

She returned to the castle, rushed to the mirror and asked, "Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who in this country is the fairest of them all".

The mirror replied, "Oh, Queen, in this country you are the fairest of them all. No woman surpasses you in beauty."

For the first time in a long time, the queen was able to rest, as much as an envious heart can rest.

When the demons returned that evening, they found Rose lying on the ground outside the house, lifeless, without a breath of life.

They lifted her, turned her over, but found nothing, no ribbon, no comb, they tried everything, but had to face the cruel evidence.

The unfortunate princess was dead.

They built a small altar by the duck pond, covered it with the petals of the young princess's favourite flowers, yellow roses that echoed the warm colour of her eyes, and laid her body on it. For days, they took turns around the lifeless body, weeping and gazing at her beauty, which not even death seemed to be able to touch.

With her beauty still intact, they couldn't bring themselves to bury her body, so they had a glass coffin made and had her name engraved in gold letters so that she could be admired forever.

They placed the glass coffin on the altar by the duck pond she loved so much, and days and weeks went by, her beauty untouched.

Now a bush of yellow roses had magically grown around the altar, and as word spread, people came from far and wide to admire the beautiful princess.

The demons remained heartbroken and continued to watch over their princess.

One day, the young king of the neighbouring country heard the rumour and came to the clearing to kneel before the glass coffin.

He stayed for days, fascinated by the princess's beauty and listening to the stories the seven demons told of their lives with Rose.

Then, even more than her outward beauty, he was fascinated by the beauty of her soul, and went to the demons and asked, "I'll give you anything you want if you'll let me take her with me.

"Even for all the gold in the world, we won't let you have her."

But when they saw that the king would not go, they took pity on him and said, "You can take her with you, for she deserves to be in a home worthy of a princess. Even dead."

The king thanked them and said, "You can visit her whenever you like, the gates of my castle will always be open to you.

The king's men came to carry the coffin on their shoulders, but on the way to the castle, one of them stumbled and the piece of poisoned apple flew out of Rose's mouth. Shocked, they almost dropped the coffin when they saw the young princess open her eyes.

"Your Majesty! Your Majesty! She's alive!"

They placed the coffin on the ground, removed the lid and Rose slowly sat up, gasping for breath before saying, frightened, "Where am I, what's happened?"

The king sent men to fetch the seven demons and, kneeling before her, told her all he knew.

Rose shook her head and said, "I will never be able to escape her."

The king placed his hand gently on Rose's and said softly, "Come with me to my castle. I promise to protect you from her and her plots."

Behind him, Rose could see the seven demons nodding their heads.

She murmured, "All right. I'll come."

No sooner had she said the word than the prince scooped her up in his arms and set her down on his horse before climbing on behind her, holding Rose tightly to his chest.

The demons embraced as the king and Rose rode off, promising to visit again soon.

At the king's castle, Rose slowly recovered, taking long walks in the palace gardens and having long talks with the king, who gave her everything she needed.

She felt less and less the need to be alone and longed for the prince's presence, missing his pale hair and clear blue eyes, his gentle voice and soft smile.

A few weeks later, just after they had shared their first kiss under an archway of blooming roses, the king got down on one knee and asked Rose to be his queen.

When Rose said yes, the wedding was to be celebrated with great pomp, and couriers travelled to neighbouring countries to invite all the nobles.

Rose's stepmother, of course, received an invitation and dressed in her finest for the occasion. Before leaving, she couldn't resist asking the mirror in her room, "Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who in this country is the fairest of them all".

The mirror replied, "Oh, Queen, you are the most beautiful of all in this region, but the young queen who is getting married today is by far the most beautiful."

At first she was so angry that she thought she wouldn't go, but curiosity was the strongest and she wanted to see who this beautiful rival was.

When she entered the reception hall and walked down the long red carpet that led to the young couple, it took her only a few steps to recognise Rose, with her blood-red hair and sunset-warm eyes.

Admitting defeat, she ran away, and legend has it that she's still running.

As for the King and the young Queen Rose, they lived happily ever after and had many demons, er, I mean children."

"You lost them just before the wedding, Angel."

"At least they're asleep, that was the point, wasn't it?"

Aziraphale looked fondly at Cassandra, who slept against him, thumb in mouth, while Alexis was slumped against Crowley's chest.

They put the twins to bed, tucked them in and it was only when the two fathers planted a light kiss on their children's foreheads that they both woke just long enough to say good night before turning over and going back to sleep.

Aziraphale had barely closed the door to their bedroom when he felt Crowley's arms wrap around him from behind as the demon rested his chin on his shoulder and said softly, "I see you've taken some liberties with Snow White. I wonder what Eric would think if he knew the role you've given him?"

Aziraphale turned in his husband's arms and wrapped his hands around Crowley's neck before saying mischievously, "Didn't you like my princess with her blood red hair and eyes as warm as the setting sun?"

“So that means I'm a princess?”

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow, "For this story anyway, any problem with that?"

Crowley laughed softly and replied, "No problem as long as you're my king."

Aziraphale drew Crowley's face to his and pressed his lips to the demon's in a tender kiss that lingered until they had to separate to catch their breath.

Then Crowley asked, "So who's the Evil Queen?"

"Metatron, of course."

They looked at each other and laughed.

Then Aziraphale asked, "Shall I carry you to our bedroom bridal style as in the tale?"

Crowley moved away, grabbed the angel's hand and replied, "Don't bother carrying me, let's go together," then, he dragged his husband into their bedroom, where they continued the tale in their own way.

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story 🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Ineffable Husbands masterlist : here

#good omens #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #ineffable boyfriends #aziraphale #crowley #good omens fanfiction #aziraphale x crowley #crowley x aziraphale #kidfic

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herofics · 4 days ago

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Dangers of winter, part 2

A/N: I got a comment on wattpad for a part two to the “Dangers of winter” post like a year ago or something, and I finally got around to writing it. I guess freezing my ass off in a snowstorm yesterday has some benefits, if it gives me inspiration to write, lol. This is kinda toxic again probably…

You could feel yourself getting pulled back from the brink. That treacherous cold feeling was going away, being replaced by a gentle warmth.

“Warm…” you muttered very quietly.

“You scared the hell out of me” you could hear a familiar voice whisper.

Dabi had followed you after all. No matter what he’d said before, he didn’t let you die in the cold. He must have carried you back to his apartment and made sure you got warm again. Knowing he cared made you happy, even though he had been so cruel just moments ago. You just wanted him to care more about you, than his stupid revenge plan and at least right now, it felt like he did.

“I don’t know if you can hear me and I don’t really care, I’m gonna say this anyway. I wouldn’t give up my plans for you, but I don’t wanna lose you either.I’m living on borrowed time. My body’s givin up on me and I don’t have much time left. I wanna spend that with you and take my revenge in the end”

That definitely brought you out of your torpor. You felt like your mind just cleared up immediately, and you raised your head to look at him. His eyes widened as you stared at him.

“What-what do you mean you don’t have much time left?” you asked.

“I’m dying sweetness, that’s what I mean” Dabi said, his gaze softening a bit as he looked at you.

He didn’t really care that he was dying, that had been the case for years now. He’d gotten used to all the aches and pains that it brought with it. His body was probably hanging on by pure spite at this point, but as long as he achieved what he’d set out to do, he didn’t care how much it hurt. As long as it didn’t hurt you. He didn’t want you to be in pain because of him. You would probably be better off without him, even if it hurt momentarily, being away from him was the best option for you.

“You’re not dying. I won’t allow it” you said seriously.

“There’s nothin you can do, and I don’t want you to either”

“You’re really going to die for your revenge? Are you fucking kidding me?” you asked, pushing yourself away from him under the covers.

“C'mere, you’re not warmed up yet” Dabi said, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you back to him.

“You’ve known all along, haven’t you? You’ve known you were dying before we even met, and you never told me” you argued, trying to keep him from pulling you back to him.

You weren’t going to cry this time. You were feeling much more like hitting him and yelling at him than crying. How could he not tell you? Now that you knew, did he expect you to just be fine with it? Like it didn’t even matter that the man you loved was dying. Like he didn’t even care that he was dying.

“It doesn’t matter” Dabi sighed, pulling you back to his chest so you would stay warm.

“You really don’t care how I feel, do you?”

“I’m dyin, there’s nothin anyone can do about it. I’ve made my peace with it, you should too”

“You expect me to just be fine with this. You expect me to just let you die?” you whispered desperately.

“Yeah, I do”

“Then why didn’t you just leave me in the snow? Why are you forcing me to go through this?” you asked with your voice filled with despair.

“Because I can’t live without you” Dabi admitted quietly.

“But I’m supposed to live without you?” you scoffed tearfully.

“You’re supposed to live”

“And what if I don’t want to? What if…. in the end, I want to burn with you?” you asked.

You couldn’t see his face, since he had trapped you with your back against his chest, but you could feel him tense up and his arms tightened around your waist.

Dabi didn’t want to live without you, and the thought of you finding someone else after he was gone, basically made his blood boil. So why not? Maybe you should burn together, when it was his time to go. If you really didn’t want to live without him, who was he to force you to do that? Maybe, when the time came, the flames would swallow you both, and you would be together, for all eternity.

#bnha #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #dabi #bnha dabi #mha dabi #bnha scenarios #mha scenarios #mha angst #bnha angst #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction #mha x reader #bnha x reader #toxicity tw

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abyssal-ali · 1 year ago

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'tis the damn season

Pairing: Luka Couffaine x Marinette Dupain-Cheng

Rating: T | Ao3 | Masterlist

WC: 3.8k

A/N: For my wonderful Twinsie @wildbookcat 💜 Beta'd by @sneksnacc

Tiny flakes of powdery snow danced through the air, carried around by the whims of the wind. Luka envied their carelessness. Somehow, he had ended up at the Charles de Gaulle International Airport, waiting for his high school ex-girlfriend, who was also his little sister’s best friend, and thus someone he couldn’t avoid.

It wasn’t even that he was still heartbroken about the end of their ill-fated relationship (lie), or that they had ended on bad terms (was both parties being broken-hearted and depressed for the next several months ‘bad terms’?), the issue was that he didn’t know how Marinette was going to react.

They were now both adults, had a collective handful of ended relationships under their belts, and were mature enough to look past that summer, right?

Another gust of wind blew through the man-made wind tunnel–aka the main doors exiting the airport–and caused a shiver to go down Luka’s back. He was still affected by his reptilian Miraculous, though he’d returned it after Hawkmoth had been defeated seven years ago. He wondered how Marinette would deal with the snow and chill when she arrived, since she was even more attuned to her Miraculous than he had been, and she continued to wield the gems occasionally. Ladybugs didn’t like the cold either.

The doors slid open, another batch of travellers entering the snowy grey afternoon with a shiver.

A pink pom-pom caught his eye, and Luka stepped out of the car to wave at its owner.

“Marinette!”

Her head turned to him, surprise overtaking her features, before being replaced by a smile. “Luka!”

Her cheeks were already flushing pink, matching her coat and hat, Luka noticed when she stepped back from la bise. He picked up her suitcase, slung her bag over his arm, and motioned towards his blue VW Golf.

“Your parents were busy with the holiday rush, so they asked me to come get you when I was over there saying hi yesterday,” Luka explained, getting into the driver’s seat once he’d stored her things in the hatch.

“Couldn’t stay away from their pain au chocolat, huh?” Marinette teased him easily.

Luka exhaled soundlessly as he pulled away. Maybe this would go okay, after all.

“You know it. So, how long are you here for?”

Marinette settled back in her seat. “I’m not actually sure. I want something new, but old…no, familiar, at the same time.”

Luka hummed. “I hope you find it.”

“Thanks. So, why are you here? It’s been a while since either of us were in Paris,” she commented, blowing hot air on the window and doodling hearts and smiles with her fingertip.

“I thought it was time. Haven’t seen Ma and Juleka in a while, and I have friends here I wanted to catch up with. I’m currently on a break from producing, so I figured now was as good a time as any.”

“Right,” Marinette agreed. “It’s nice to see you again.”

And now the awkwardness was seeping through the car.

“You too; it’s been awhile,” he said softly. “I’m always happy to see you.”

Even if it hurts when I don’t.

Her gaze darted down to her mittenless hands, fidgeting with her short, buffed nails. Luka could see the calluses from being constantly pricked on the pads of her fingers; a thin red scrape on the side of her hand likely came from brushing against a pincushion the wrong way.

The snowflakes had gradually become larger and more frequent, so Luka turned on the wipers.

“So, I saw you snagged the honour of designing Clara’s outfit for the Grammys next year,” he commented to break the silence.

Usually, he was fine with silence, especially around Marinette, who often needed it, but right now he was acting very unlike himself. Coming back to Paris had stirred up all these old feelings and actions, and he cursed it in his mind.

“Yeah. I’m hoping coming back here will provide some inspiration. I want to pay homage to her roots,” Marinette explained. “We could go for a drive around all our old haunts, maybe. Oh, but you’ll probably be busy, sorry. I can drive around.”

“I’m not that busy.” He blurted the words before he thought. “You still don’t have a license, right? I don’t mind being your chauffeur.”

The snowflakes appeared to have come from Marinette’s sparkling eyes. “Thank you, Luka!” She watched him drive in silence for a while. “You haven’t really changed, even though you’re famous.”

He flicked a glance at her, slowing down for a red light. “You think so?”

She nodded. “You look older now, because you are, obviously, and your image-controlling people have changed your appearance somewhat, but at your core you’re still the same Luka I know from seven years ago.”

The light turned green, and Luka wondered if it was a sign for one delusional second before he pressed the gas again.

“Is that a compliment or not, Mari?” he asked, settling for a teasing inquisition instead.

‘It’s a good thing!” she insisted. “Okay, you’ve matured, but your essence is the same. You’re like…like a nice red wine! Aging improves a good thing!”

“Oh, so you’re calling me old now?”

Mari sputtered. “That’s not what I said at all! And men say women take things too seriously! Pfft!”

Luka couldn’t hold back his laugh as Marinette crossed her arms, her puffy jacket turning her into a cocoon of pink.

“I know what you meant, Mari; thank you for the compliment.”

She sniffed at the traces of humour in his penitent tone, but uncurled her arms.

“There’s the bakery. We should just have missed the closing rush,” Luka glanced at the clock on the dashboard. “Have a good time, Marinette.”

“Thank you, you too! Oh, you can text me when you want to go for a drive. I still use the same number.”

“0-474-152-772?”

A wave of pink coated her cheeks. “You still remember it?”

I stare at it for a good half hour every week debating calling you or not. Of course I know it; it’s seared into my memory.

“Yep. I kept my old number too.” He popped the trunk and lifted her bags out.

“0-516-352-772?”

“Yep. Say hi to your parents for me!”

He placed her bags just inside the door, and then beat a hasty retreat. Why do you still remember my number?

~~~

How could she forget his number, when it spelled out her name?

Marinette sighed, waved goodbye at Luka’s car, then shut the door, ready to greet her parents.

“Maman! Papa! Guess who’s home!”

“Marinette! Sweetie, you made it!” Once the overwhelming hugs and bises had been exchanged, her parents looked curiously at the empty space behind her. “Luka got you here safely?” asked Sabine.

Mari nodded. “He was waiting for me at the airport; he asked me to say hi to you for him. He said you were busy with the holiday rush.”

Tom agreed. “We were sorry to miss picking you up, but our seasonal helper was sick, so we weren’t able to close and get you after all. Luka coming by and being free was fortunate.”

“It was nice to catch up with him,” Mari agreed. “I’ll just bring my bags up to my room and then we can catch up while we make dinner?”

“That sounds good,” agreed Sabine. Tom brought the luggage up, then left Mari to settle in after one more hug.

Looking around her room, Mari smiled at the remembrance of all the memories she had made in the pink space. Pictures clothespinned to her wall of fairy lights danced in the breeze as she twirled, releasing a deep breath and closing her eyes at the peace of being home again.

She could feel the ideas coming for Clara’s outfits.

It was a brilliant idea to come back to Paris.

~~~

It was a horrible idea to come back to Paris.

Why had he said yes to picking Marinette up?

Why had he said yes to driving Marinette around?

Why had he answered her text as soon as she sent it, at 2:08 am?

Why had he showed up at her door at 7:30 am, why had he let Tom drag him to the kitchen and feed him pastries (okay, that one was self-explanatory), why had he lingered and chatted, why why why.

The answer to all his questions was sitting in the passenger seat of the car he was borrowing from a friend, looking devastatingly beautiful and chattering away about how things had changed since she had left, a year before he had, and contrasting it to Los Angeles.

If he’d wanted to hear about her failed relationships after she defeated Hawkmoth, broke up with him, and moved away, he would have asked.

Luka was well aware that he was sulking, but he didn’t care at this moment. They were driving by College Francois Dupont, and the memories of that time weren’t the most pleasant.

“Ooh, I have an idea! Can you park here? I want to walk around for a bit.”

Luka dutifully pulled over, parking in an empty space between the school and the Methodist church down the block.

Marinette strolled around the quiet street, the fluffy flakes floating down muffling her footsteps and muttered monologue.

She returned to him eventually, scribbling away at her sketchbook.

Luka’s hand raised before he realised what he was doing.

“Luka? What are you doing?”

He blinked down at her, his hand frozen as she glanced up at him from under her bangs.

“You, um, snow-”

Why was he making this awkward? Biting the bullet, he gently brushed the accumulated snow off the top of Marinette’s ponytail.

She flashed him a smile and climbed back into her seat.

“Where to next, Mari?”

~~~

“So, any plans for your break?” Mari clutched a mug of cocoa in her hands, careful not to drop it over the edge of her balcony on the head of some unsuspecting passersby out admiring the lights.

Luka leaned his back against the balcony, blowing on his own mug. “I haven’t made anything firm yet, but I expect my schedule will fill up rather quickly.”

Mari hummed. “I guess I should book our hangouts while you’ve still got room for me then, Mr. Hot-Demand.”

“I’ll always have room for you, Mari.”

She smiled at him before turning back to the cityscape. “I’ve missed this view.”

The real view nudged her shoulder. “Old memories coming back, huh? I’m glad you’re able to miss it, Mar.”

“Did you miss it?” She turned on her back to be companionably side-to-side with him.

“The city? Not so much. The people in it? Yeah, I missed them a lot.”

She nodded in understanding. “Did you miss the people who weren’t in it, too?”

He sipped his cocoa. “Everyday.”

~~~

Marinette opened her eyes, breathing deeply. There was nothing like a full ten hours of sleep in your childhood room, warm and cozy under blankets as the snow drifted by the window hypnotizingly, your secret love snuggled up beside you-

Oh yeah, she’d made Luka stay the night, saying it was too cold to walk back home as her excuse to have him sleep here. Her fingers brushed a teal lock back from his forehead as she took in his peaceful features. Honestly, they weren’t much different from his usual everyday expressions. She envied his calm, never being able to stay still for long.

Luka shifted, blinking sleepily at her, a sleepy smile curving his lips. “Morning, Mari.”

His arm raised to trace a feather-light path down her cheek to cup her neck and pull her towards him.

She let him guide her closer, her breath catching in her throat.

“Mari, if you’re up, could you help out at the register for a bit?” called Sabine through the door.

Luka jerked away and Mari rolled out of bed with a thump. “Be there in a minute, Maman!”

“Are you okay?” he peeked over the edge of her mattress.

“Just fine,” she rubbed her behind. Luckily, the duvet had cushioned her fall.

“Er, sorry about that,” Luka ran his fingers through his messy locks.

“It’s fine,” she shrugged off the hurt, grabbing a pair of jeans and a flower-embroidered sweater off the back of her chaise. “Want me to save you anything for breakfast when I go down?”

“A quince pastry would be nice.”

“Got it. See you!” She fled down the stairs to the secondary powder room to change and twist her hair into a braid. Ready to suppress the feelings stoked by Luka’s earlier actions, she washed her hands and prepared to face the public.

Luka wandered downstairs a while later, looking neat and as if he hadn’t slept in her bed and almost greeted her with a kiss before they were interrupted and then ignored it.

She could feel Sabine and Tom pause in their work as they took in the situation and incorrectly interpreted it.

“Oh, I thought we missed you leaving last night, Luka,” smiled Sabine. “Are you-”

“Here’s your pastry,” interrupted Marinette, thrusting the napkin-wrapped goods into Luka’s hand. “You’re lucky I saved you the last one.”

“Er, lucky, yeah. About that. Can I talk to you? Later, I guess, when you’re not busy,” he cast a glance at the blatantly listening bakers.

“Sure. We can go for another drive in about an hour? Around one?”

“Sounds good, I’ll see you then. Bye, Tom, Sabine.” With a wave, he ducked out the door, leaving a bill in Marinette’s now-empty hands for the pastry.

She turned to her parents. “It’s not what it looks like. It was late and cold and I didn’t want him walking home in the snow-”

“Mhm,” Sabine raised a knowing brow. “Would you like to talk about it?”

Marinette shook her head. “Not yet.”

~~~

Luka shook his head, sending accumulated flurries flying off his hair. He’d had the most lovely dream, waking up to Marinette cosying up to him in his bed, smiling at him lovingly. Except it hadn’t been a dream, and he’d almost kissed her.

He was not going to go down the path they’d travelled in school, with the secrets and barriers between them. She still didn’t know he knew she was Ladybug and the Guardian, and she hadn’t told him. He wasn’t going to lie to himself; it hurt a little.

Realistically, he knew there were several reasons why she wouldn’t bring it up (not the least of which because she didn’t want to dredge up those traumas again) but emotionally, he was simply hurt by her still not trusting him with her identity even though she’d entrusted Sass and literal timelines to him.

Still, his therapist in the States had done him good.

He was going to tell Marinette he knew on their drive this afternoon, get everything off his chest, and then leave it in her hands while he returned to LA and broke his heart over her for the last time. Yep, sounded like a good plan.

~~~

Marinette climbed into the car. Luka closed her door, crossed the front, and slid into the driver’s seat.

“Where to?”

“I thought maybe we could just drive around this time, unless there’s somewhere you wanted to go?”

“No, that sounds fine.” He took a sip from the mocha she had supplied them with, humming appreciatively. “This is perfect; thanks, Mari.”

“You’re welcome.”

He started the car and pulled away.

They drove in silence for a while, occasionally pointing out some place they and their friends had adventures at.

Luka pointed at the tip of the Eiffel Tower. “That thing was destroyed more times than I can count.”

She made an agreeing noise, thinking back to some of the battles the Tower had seen.

“Marinette, I need to talk about something with you.”

She nodded, looking at the un-Luka-like tension in his body language. “Okay.”

“I was Viperion, on the Miraculous team. I reset so many timelines. It was impossible not to know who my allies were, with all the mishaps occurring. I’ve known you were Ladybug for years.”

She stilled, breathing stuttering as old trauma resurfaced. Someone knew she was Ladybug, something bad happened.

Reminding herself that Hawkmoth was gone, she wasn’t Ladybug anymore, and she was safe, she regulated her breathing and thoughts.

“I knew you were Ladybug when we were dating, and that your identity was why you were so hesitant to open up. I thought now would be a good time to tell you that you don’t have to keep that secret alone anymore.”

“Luka, I-”

“It’s okay, Mari. I didn’t hold it against you. After all, we were all kids. Just thought I could even the score before I leave, since we both know each other’s secret,” he muttered.

“I- you-” she stuttered, falling silent as her thoughts whirled.

“I’m flying out tomorrow afternoon,” he broke the silence after a few minutes. “Don’t worry, I haven’t told another soul and I never will. But, if you ever want to talk about it…you have my number.”

She nodded, still processing. “Thank you, Luka. For- well, everything. I’m sorry for what I put you through.”

He gave her a smile meant to be reassuring and forgiving, but she knew it was fake. “Have a happy new year, Marinette.”

Strangely feeling like she’d been broken up with, she closed the car door and walked into the bakery, where her parents met her.

“Everything okay, sweetie?”

She shook her head. “I think I need to take you up on your offer to talk about it.”

~~~

Luka packed his suitcase methodically, thoughts with one person miles away.

He wasn’t quite sure what he’d expected when he’d told her he knew.

Maybe for her to ask him out again since they had no secrets between them anymore? Okay, that was his wildest dream, but he supposed she hadn’t changed that much, still taking her time to process things. Not that he blamed her–having a magical emotional terrorist attacking your city didn’t exactly inspire impulsive actions regarding your feelings.

His therapist had told him that there were seasons in one’s life, and sometimes people were only meant to be with you for a season, like a flower. Others were like trees, there no matter the weather. He wanted her to be a tree, but maybe she was only a flower. Whatever she was, he’d always remember the beauty of her blooms and the sweetness of her perfume.

“‘Tis the damn season,” he mumbled, slinging his guitar case over his back and picking up his suitcase.

He’d left her with a reminder of his phone number. Hoping she’d call him one day, he drove to the airport. He only realised he’d chosen the route that took him by the bakery as he passed it, peering in the window to catch a glimpse of Marinette working the register.

~~~

Marinette wasn’t having a good day. She’d taken forever to fall asleep, tossing and turning as she stewed over Luka and her parents’ advice.

They’d understandably been surprised by her explanation of the inner workings of her and Luka’s short-lived relationship, but provided some valuable outside-perspective commentary.

After a fitful sleep, she’d been working the register while her parents worked on a rush-order of pastries, her mind consumed by thoughts of Luka.

“Here’s your change, ma’am. Have a happy new year!” Handing the coins over, she wiped her hands on her apron and tidied up the counter space.

Clean up complete, she ran upstairs to change into jeans, boots with Ladybug pom-poms, a turtleneck, and her favourite Viperion hoodie she’d worn thin.

She tossed a quick goodbye over her shoulder to her parents and ran out the door, waving her hand at an approaching taxi.

“International airport, please,” she huffed, buckling her belt.

“Hope you’re not late for your flight, mademoiselle. The snow is slowing traffic,” said the driver.

Marinette clasped her hands to stop her nervous fidgeting, calling on all of Tikki’s luck that she’d arrive before Luka’s flight left.

~~~ Luka wasn’t having a good day. He’d slept off and on, was leaving his first love behind, and now he couldn’t even do that because of the sudden snowstorm. All flights were postponed or cancelled for the time being.

So far his flight was only cancelled, so he found a comfortable piece of carpet to claim and began strumming an imaginary guitar while he waited for updates.

Snippets of lyrics floated through his brain as he composed a piece containing his feelings in the moment.

“I won’t ask you to wait…if you don’t ask me to stay…” He hummed softly.

The sound of running feet made him look up, curious who thought they were late for a flight that wasn’t taking off.

“Marinette?” “Luka?”

She paused in front of him, catching her breath.

“Why are you here?” he asked cautiously, getting to his feet.

“To see you,” she panted. “Didn’t want you to go.”

His heart picked up pace as if he’d been the one running through the airport. “Really?” “Really. I want you. I have for years. Is there any way you can stay?” she asked softly.

“I’ll stay any way I can if you ask, Ma-ma-marinette,” he grinned. “I love you. I never stopped.”

She tiptoed to be face-to-face with him. “I love you too,” she whispered in his ear before greeting him with a soft kiss. It felt like home and the beginning of everything and the end of everything and the past and future all wrapped up into one amazing kiss in the present.

He cupped her face in his hands, resting his forehead on hers.

~~~

Luka drove them back to the bakery, keeping her hand entwined with his. They stepped into the entry, stomping snow off their boots. Sabine and Tom greeted them as if it was an everyday occurrence, though Marinette saw the happy spark in their eyes.

“Just in time for the party!” boomed Tom. “Dinner is ready; let’s sit!”

After a festive new year’s eve dinner and delicious buche, Luka and Marinette carried their flutes of champagne up to Marinette’s balcony to watch the firecrackers and revellers beneath them.

Chanting filled the air, little sparks in the distance showing where firecrackers had been set off.

“10! 9!” The countdown to the new year had begun.

“My new year’s resolution is to have the woman I love become my girlfriend. Will you be my girlfriend?” Luka asked.

“4!”

Marinette nodded vigorously. “Yes!”

“3! 2! 1!”

Horns sounded, firecrackers popped, and hollers filled the air, but Marinette and Luka heard none of it, too wrapped up in each other.

“Joyeuse annee, Luka.”

“Bonne annee, Marinette.”

#ali writes #Lukanette #Fic #Marinette dupain cheng x Luka Couffaine

33 notes · View notes