#written by saturnville

[saturnville]

congratulations, mr. president

pairing: young!coriolanus snow x linnea lowtower. content: coriolanus is announced as president of Panem with his wife by his side. warning: none. an: idk this is short and simple. just randomly thought of it. I was gonna add smut but decided against it. tags: @fastlikealambo

Coriolanus knew that the stars were aligned for his future. And, he knew that they one day, would align as a stepping stone to the seat of the presidency. The odds were ever in his favor. Though, life threw him arils of sour pomegranate and his support system was minuscule once his father passed, life had proven that good things come to those who wait. He had waited long enough. It was finally his time.

Election season was brutal, but unlike his peers, Coriolanus could easily admit that he enjoyed it. He was full of charm, class, and intelligence that made everyone fall for him. He became the President of Panem at the tender age of 24. The world was in the palm of his hand.

It was the day of his swearing in. The sun rose early and the smell of freshly brewed coffee filled his hotel suite. He spent the evening alone, per his request, to collect himself before his swearing in. His blue eyes darted to the clock on the wall. He had an hour to prepare himself before he’d be whisked away to the center of the Capitol. He stepped to the bathroom to begin getting ready.

Hot showers were something he still was not used to. For thirteen years, he lived just above the poverty line, and cold showers became a norm. It was better than no water at all, he reasoned. Coriolanus ran his fingers through his short, damp hair as he fumbled around for his toothbrush and toothpaste.

Through the foggy mirror, he caught his reflection. He looked much different than he did during his time at the Academy and at University. He no longer had shaggy, blond curls, but rather a platinum blond and a haircut with short sides and considerable length at the top, that was always strategically brushed back. It made him look older, more mature. More powerful. His shoulders were stronger and more broad, and he oozed confidence with every step he took. A complete 180 change.

Coriolanus flicked off the bathroom light and whistled his way to the main room. Near the window was a rack of clothes. The option he’d chosen hung pressed and wrinkle free against an iron hanger. His fingers danced along the thick fabric. The circular buttons, his fingertips touched. Tigris’ design.

He dropped his towel and proceeded to get dressed. He eyed himself in the mirror as he buttoned his shirt. A small smile graced his lips. Patience was a virtue and it proved to leave him victorious.

A soft knock came from the door. Coriolanus dropped his coat on the bed and went to open it. “Who is—hi.”

“Good morning, Coriolanus.” Right past him walked his wife. His eyes followed her with every step she took. He let go of the door slowly and let it close behind them. “How are you feeling?” She sat elegantly at the foot of the bed. She crossed her leg at the knee, her brown skin a stark contrast against her white dress. Coriolanus released a shaky breath.

To say his wife was stunning was far from an understatement. Their marital union began once they graduated from the Academy. Coriolanus proposed to her the day of graduation with a unique ring—a two diamond band, one silver, and one ruby red. Six years with her by his side through the ups, downs, and in-betweens.

She was a sensual being. Even in her most classy and elegant attire. She picked out her dress for the occasion and she picked it well. She wore a figure-hugging white dress with a slit going up the left thigh. Her dress was sleeveless with feathers along the chest. On her feet were a heel a shade of the deepest crimson. Her makeup was bold, eyes and lips bleeding with crimson. Her locs were curled and curtained her back. His beautiful wife. His First Lady. His Queen of Panem.

“Fine,” he said shortly. He extended his hand and took hers into his. She was careful not to rest her head on his white shirt; she’d hate for his outfit to be tainted with makeup. “Even better now. I’m almost ready. Just need my jacket.” He nodded at his crimson trench coat that rested on the edge of the bed. She broke from his embrace and swiped the coat from his hands.

“Go.” She pointed to the full length mirror on the back of the hotel door. He followed her command with ease. Though shorter than him, the crown of her head could be seen behind his stature as she stood behind him. She took the coat in her hands and gestured for him to slide his arms in the sleeves. One by one.

Her hands smoothed the non-existent wrinkles on the shoulders of the coat. Coriolanus lifted his chin, an unfamiliar sense of power coursing through his veins. On Linnea’s lips played a smile of approval. “Well, Mr. Snow, it’s about that time, yeah?” Right on cue, a knock on the door. It was time.

Coriolanus met her eyes through the mirror and nodded. “It’s that time.”

“It is with great pride that we welcome your new president of Panem,” Lucretius Lucky Flickerman said lowly. His dark eyes scanned over the crowd who itched with anticipation for their new leader to enter. “Coriolanus Snow!”

A pair of titanium doors opened. The logo of the Capitol split in two and slowly, Coriolanus and Linnea came into view. Capitol citizens roared with excitement. Coriolanus glanced at Linnea, who was already looking at him with a smile on her lips.

They were guided toward two chairs in the center of the suite. It was an overwhelming sight to see. Tens of hundreds of thousands people, proud and ecstatic for the arrival of the man who was determined to make Panem the greatest it could ever be. They were here for him, for Coriolanus Snow. The man who fought and clawed his way to the top. The man who went from something, to nothing, to everything in a short amount of time. Who could stop him? Coriolanus squeezed her hand tightly.

“Please, everyone, give it up for President Coriolanus Snow, and his First Lady, Linnea Snow!” A roar of cheers erupted. Dreams had become a reality.

Linnea leaned up and brought her lips to his ear, “Congratulations, Mr. President.” The words rolled off her tongue smoother than molasses. And the look in her eye was killer. Was she trying to make him weak in the knees in front of everyone? Putty in her hands, he was. Desire glazed over her brown eyes. She would pay for it later.

Coriolanus’ arm draped around her waist and his hand ghosted over the swell of her bottom. He brought his lips to her ear. “Save the congratulations for later, sweetheart. We’ll celebrate the right way, my beautiful First Lady…”

She smiled softly. “I love you.”

Not caring about the crowd ahead of them, his lips ghosted over hers. “Mhm, I love you, too.”

[mauvecherie-writes]

the kaleidoscope theory: l.hamilton- series.

status: ongoing

tropes: strangers to lovers, single [divorced] parent, second chance at love, she fell first but he fell harder, *minor love triangle*

trigger warning: this story will contain - child neglect, parental alienation, divorce, infidelity, narcissistic behaviour, mentions of postpartum depression, explicit sexual content.

DISCLAIMER: this story is a piece of pure fiction. outside of the likeliness of lewis hamilton’s physical appearance and certain aspects of his professional career and business - EVERYTHING HERE IS FAKE.

Kalani Halloway always believed that she would be destined for a great love story like her parents. As the oldest daughter, she felt like her life had to be perfect - to set an example for the sibling that followed after. To show society what a good and healthy black family is supposed to be.

And for the past sixteen years, everything had been perfect.

Kalani lost it all overnight.

Her husband, her community, her sense of belonging.

All gone.

Now she was being forced to get her footing with the new world when she thought that her bubble would never burst.

In the midst of her chaotic new life - her children being her only priority, she did not expect an unfortunate event including her son to open her eyes into exploring a life that wasn’t written in stone but a life and love that she could make her own.

.prologue

.chapter one

reading list: @queenshikongo3 @dhlfastestlap @saintslewis @serpenttines-library @saturnville @hopefulromantic1 @cocobutterqwueen @bluesole16 @chaneajoyyy @emjayewrites @melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx @sapphireheaven @olyvoyl @lewisroscoelove @lh44adore @hellomadamebutterfly @scorpiobleue @qveenmelanink @tremendousstarlighttragedy @bekindbecoolbeyou @greedyjudge2 @itsapurrfectstorm @createdbylivingclocks @samiwzx @omgsuperstarg @peyiswriting @miyuhpapayuh @blowmymbackout @purplelewlew @henneseyhoe @perfecttrashface @alianovnaromanovanatalia @forza-hamilton

[saturnville]

i definitely started writing the og “home” again after not touching it in almost 3 years. definitely grateful to have at least completed the concise version (cupid’s arrow), but I may take “home” through an editing process and make something shake in a year or so.

masterlist for home!

*on hold*

⇢ cast and playlist

⇢ chapter i.

⇢ chapter ii.

⇢ chapter iii.

⇢ chapter iv.

⇢ chapter v.

⇢ chapter vi.

⇢ chapter vii.

⇢ cupid’s arrow mini series

tags

@neealicious @parlous-propinquity @sillyteecup

[saturnville]

let me sign.

pairing: pattinson!bruce wayne x black!oc (lauren)

warning: an attempt at angst

content: in which bruce is crippled with misery and she wants to take his pain.

song: let me sign — robert pattinson

note: we should know how i get when a new show/movie comes out—i write lol.

divider by @firefly-graphics

"Why do you call yourself that?"

Such a loaded question she dared to ask. A loaded question that threatened to probe a flood that she had no ability to contain.

He wanted to lie. Let a few unconvincing words spew from his lips to get her off his back, to avoid a conversation he wasn't strong enough to handle. She wouldn't believe him if he tried. She'd raise an eyebrow, twist those perfect lips of hers, and cock her head to the side, eyes searching his sunken face like he had forty heads upon his shoulders.

He called himself vengeance. An ungodly force to be reckoned with, a lurker in the shadows. Darkness was his home; he confided in it like a parent. It shielded him from the outside world; the darkness was his protection from reality. Vengeance was a disguise that he wore all too well.

The leather tight against his skin gave a confidence he never knew. The callouses on his rough hands scraped by the interior of worn gloves possessed a power he'd never known. The smooth mask that guarded his identity allowed for a new persona to arise. No one would focus on the shy, tormented, broken man known as Bruce Wayne, but as the infamous vigilante who did everything that Bruce couldn't.

"Bruce..." her voice disrupted the eerie silence around them. He thanked his lucky stars for the darkness in his bedroom. He couldn't look at her. Not now. Not like this.

Lauren pushed away the pillows that created a barrier between them. They flopped upon the dirty floor, small lines of dirt formulating on the white cases.

"Vengeance is angry." His voice was hardly above a whisper. The soaring winds outside his window were louder in volume. His voice sounded like a rock against concrete, yet was a lullaby in her ears. "Vengeance is a master of darkness. Vengeance wants revenge and to inflict pain on those who inflicted it upon him first." She watched his jaw lock and his neck twitch. "I am Vengeance. We are one in the same."

He met her eyes for the first time since their encounter. They were brooding. Dark. Full of pain, gut-wrenching pain that made her stomach clench. His jaw ticked and his neck twitched. Bruce turned his head swiftly.

"No, no, please," Lauren begged. She placed a gentle hand on his sunken cheek, her black manicured nails caressing his skin gently. "Look at me, please." She gently nudged his face. He didn't fight her.

"You are..." she trailed off. Her heart was split into infinite tiny pieces. Gosh, he was so tired. Those beautiful eyes of his carried so much sadness, guilt, and bitterness all in one. The only time she'd seen them bright were in childhood pictures where he stood in between his parents. Then, and only then, had he been truly happy.

Her thumb swiped below his eyelids, caressing the dark circles around them along with black, smeared streaks. Her finger ran down the bridge of his nose that was red from the harsh Gotham breeze. His lips, thin and pale, cut and bloodied.

"It doesn't have to be like this forever, you know that, right? Just take it a day at a time, Bruce, but don't let this eat at you until you are in your grave. Your parents wouldn't want this for you and you know it."

He pulled her hand away and held up a finger. "You do not know what they--"

"I know they would want the best for you, Bruce. Any good parent would. Do you really think they'd be okay with you killing yourself like this? There is nothing wrong with grieving, you lost your family. I can see how painful it is for you; it's nothing to forget o-o-or ignore, but one day at a time, Bruce. Just, take it one day at a time."

Bruce pursed his lips and choked back a cry that'd been scratching at his throat for days. Lauren nodded, "It's okay, you can cry. You can let it out, there's no shame in it. You're hurt and that is okay. Just...one day at a time."

Silence.

"Can I hold you?" she asked carefully. She scooted closer and the moonlight illuminated her face. Her brown skin was full of warmth and her eyes of love, though they looked just like his: flooded by sadness.

He took in a shaky breath and nodded once. Lauren wrapped an arm around his back and another around his neck, craddling his tense body softly. Her finger's scratched at the base of his neck and combed through his dark hair. She rubbed his shoulders in a nurturing manner. Then, he broke.

A quiet sob fell from his lips and she caught it with her ears. He hugged her back tighter than she'd ever been hugged before. His fingers crossed behind her waist, almost afraid that she'd be gone, too, if he let her go.

Tears fell from his eyes and rain down her shoulder. She shivered.

"I got you, okay? I'll always have you. Always."

[multiversxwhore]

“Can I hold you?” That’s all that baby wanted 😭

let me sign.

pairing: pattinson!bruce wayne x black!oc (lauren)

warning: an attempt at angst

content: in which bruce is crippled with misery and she wants to take his pain.

song: let me sign — robert pattinson

note: we should know how i get when a new show/movie comes out—i write lol.

divider by @firefly-graphics

"Why do you call yourself that?"

Such a loaded question she dared to ask. A loaded question that threatened to probe a flood that she had no ability to contain.

He wanted to lie. Let a few unconvincing words spew from his lips to get her off his back, to avoid a conversation he wasn't strong enough to handle. She wouldn't believe him if he tried. She'd raise an eyebrow, twist those perfect lips of hers, and cock her head to the side, eyes searching his sunken face like he had forty heads upon his shoulders.

He called himself vengeance. An ungodly force to be reckoned with, a lurker in the shadows. Darkness was his home; he confided in it like a parent. It shielded him from the outside world; the darkness was his protection from reality. Vengeance was a disguise that he wore all too well.

The leather tight against his skin gave a confidence he never knew. The callouses on his rough hands scraped by the interior of worn gloves possessed a power he'd never known. The smooth mask that guarded his identity allowed for a new persona to arise. No one would focus on the shy, tormented, broken man known as Bruce Wayne, but as the infamous vigilante who did everything that Bruce couldn't.

"Bruce..." her voice disrupted the eerie silence around them. He thanked his lucky stars for the darkness in his bedroom. He couldn't look at her. Not now. Not like this.

Lauren pushed away the pillows that created a barrier between them. They flopped upon the dirty floor, small lines of dirt formulating on the white cases.

"Vengeance is angry." His voice was hardly above a whisper. The soaring winds outside his window were louder in volume. His voice sounded like a rock against concrete, yet was a lullaby in her ears. "Vengeance is a master of darkness. Vengeance wants revenge and to inflict pain on those who inflicted it upon him first." She watched his jaw lock and his neck twitch. "I am Vengeance. We are one in the same."

He met her eyes for the first time since their encounter. They were brooding. Dark. Full of pain, gut-wrenching pain that made her stomach clench. His jaw ticked and his neck twitched. Bruce turned his head swiftly.

"No, no, please," Lauren begged. She placed a gentle hand on his sunken cheek, her black manicured nails caressing his skin gently. "Look at me, please." She gently nudged his face. He didn't fight her.

"You are..." she trailed off. Her heart was split into infinite tiny pieces. Gosh, he was so tired. Those beautiful eyes of his carried so much sadness, guilt, and bitterness all in one. The only time she'd seen them bright were in childhood pictures where he stood in between his parents. Then, and only then, had he been truly happy.

Her thumb swiped below his eyelids, caressing the dark circles around them along with black, smeared streaks. Her finger ran down the bridge of his nose that was red from the harsh Gotham breeze. His lips, thin and pale, cut and bloodied.

"It doesn't have to be like this forever, you know that, right? Just take it a day at a time, Bruce, but don't let this eat at you until you are in your grave. Your parents wouldn't want this for you and you know it."

He pulled her hand away and held up a finger. "You do not know what they--"

"I know they would want the best for you, Bruce. Any good parent would. Do you really think they'd be okay with you killing yourself like this? There is nothing wrong with grieving, you lost your family. I can see how painful it is for you; it's nothing to forget o-o-or ignore, but one day at a time, Bruce. Just, take it one day at a time."

Bruce pursed his lips and choked back a cry that'd been scratching at his throat for days. Lauren nodded, "It's okay, you can cry. You can let it out, there's no shame in it. You're hurt and that is okay. Just...one day at a time."

Silence.

"Can I hold you?" she asked carefully. She scooted closer and the moonlight illuminated her face. Her brown skin was full of warmth and her eyes of love, though they looked just like his: flooded by sadness.

He took in a shaky breath and nodded once. Lauren wrapped an arm around his back and another around his neck, craddling his tense body softly. Her finger's scratched at the base of his neck and combed through his dark hair. She rubbed his shoulders in a nurturing manner. Then, he broke.

A quiet sob fell from his lips and she caught it with her ears. He hugged her back tighter than she'd ever been hugged before. His fingers crossed behind her waist, almost afraid that she'd be gone, too, if he let her go.

Tears fell from his eyes and rain down her shoulder. She shivered.

"I got you, okay? I'll always have you. Always."