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yoursweetwife · 27 days

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How do they celebrate your birthday

Ruan Mei

In fact, Ruan Mei is not interested in holidays, at least you were able to convince her to celebrate New Year and even Valentine's Day, and you would not be offended if she did not remember your birthday, since the scientist had many more important things to do, but perhaps you didn’t know, Ruan Mei writes down all the important dates on pieces of paper, which then hang on her workplace (usually important meetings and your dates, since she tends to get lost in research).

And as soon as Ruan Mei sees that your birthday is approaching, she will set aside two days (one to prepare and the other to spend the day with you) in which she will try to forget about work. It was difficult the first time, but the longer you are together, the easier it is for her to put aside her work and put you first, which would have seemed impossible a few years ago.

Ruan Mei often listens to you, although from the outside it may seem that she is ignoring you, and she is very observant, so if your eyes suddenly stop at something, she will write it down and add it to the list of potential gifts.

She also loves to give handmade gifts, such as embroidery and a new plant. And what would we do without homemade cake? Ruan Mei will never buy cake from stores, she will find the best ingredients and put all her strength and care into a sweet miracle.

The first time she decided to surprise you was in the morning. And the sight of Ruan Mei with a damn festive pipe could really scare an unprepared person.

But you'd be lying if you said your heart didn't melt every time you woke up with May sitting on the edge of the bed, holding a piece of cake with a small candle.

You wake up from quiet rustling next to you, and the first thought that comes to mind is that your lover is getting ready for work, which is why you whine pitifully and try to reach her hand without opening your eyes.A soft laugh touches your ears and the space next to you drops a little.

Ruan Mei's hand gently touches your face, tucking unruly strands behind your ear. How she wished at that moment she had her phone with her to take a picture of this amazing sight..

"Wake up, honey."

You reluctantly open your eyes and blink a few times to regain your vision. Your eyes widen as she brings the cake almost to your face.

"What is this?"

You slowly get up from your lying position so as not to hit Ruan Mei.

"Isn't it obvious? Today is your birthday."

Ruan Mei smiles as he sees your shock turn to realization. She passes the fragrant piece into your hands and gets out of bed. You see a mug of freshly brewed tea on the nightstand.

"Take your time, enjoy every bite. We have the whole day ahead of us."

Veritas Ratio

Ratio has long considered any holidays a waste of time, especially birthdays. It seems to me that his parents practically did not celebrate their son’s birthday, calling it a meaningless and ridiculous event, and this attitude was passed on to Ratio. Either way, you caught him off guard when you came to his office to wish him a happy birthday. You were friends back then, and the pure joy on your face when you gave him a gift made something click in his head.

Unfortunately, or fortunately, he would not have been able to cope with his conscience if he had not returned the favor.

As much as Veritas did not want to admit it, over time he began to enjoy this holiday. Especially when it's your holiday. Ratio feels real pride when he sees how you rejoice at everything he has prepared for you, and this is not a little.

Veritas starts planning about two weeks before the birthday. He'll take a day off for the two of you, and even if you say it's not necessary, Ratio will just kiss you and tell you to enjoy the holiday. He's the type who wants everything to be perfect and has a list of places you can visit. Of course, he acts based on your preferences. However, if you want to spend the day at home, then you don’t need to hide it, just say or hint, and Ratio will immediately understand.

Only Ratio knows nothing about gifts. A classic gift would include an encyclopedia, a frying pan and flowers and things like that, but it's very good at serving you. For the whole day, Veritas is ready to fulfill all your wishes, do you want to go shopping? or go see that terrible movie you were talking about? Please, today he will not refuse, but the complaints will not stop, although there will be a little less of them.

Ratio doesn't like store-bought cakes, so he usually makes private orders. His attempts to make the cake himself do not end well. He is not at all friendly with baking, so he always baked only with you, and Veritas sincerely does not understand why your sponge cake is so soft and fluffy, while it is more reminiscent of a cast iron alloy.

And most importantly, this is one of the few days when he doesn’t get up at five o’clock in the morning to play sports and prepare for the new day. Instead, he just lays next to you, lovingly watching you press against his body.

You wake up to Veritas' hand playing with your tangled hair while his other hand is used as a pillow. Your cheek rests on his hard chest, covered by his pajamas, and you bury your nose deeper into his shirt, inhaling his scent.

Veritas’s hand flows from your hair first to the bare skin of your shoulder, after which it draws a path to your palm, which sends a shiver through your body. And in that moment, you were grateful that your nightie didn’t have sleeves.

Neither of you said a word, wanting to enjoy a moment of peace where no one would disturb you, especially your annoying colleagues (he made sure to turn off yours phones).

There were no smart thoughts or reflections in his head, and Ratio liked it, you made him understand that there are other joys in life, and he will definitely show his gratitude.

Ratio kissed the top of your head, inhaling the pleasant aroma of shampoo. You let out a hum of satisfaction and met Veritas' gaze. He watched as you, still sleepy, fought the urge to fall asleep again, but despite this, your lips parted to quietly greet the man.

"Good morning, Veri."

Your lover smiles at the nickname and squeezes your hand tighter.

"Good morning, my dear."

Aventurine

Aventurine hates celebrating his birthday, although he has begun to enjoy it with you, but he is looking forward to the day of your coming into this world with great impatience. In fact, he doesn’t even need notes and reminders, Aventurine never forgets things that are important to him, and the birthday of his beloved angel is not just an “ordinary day” as you try to convince a man when he starts to fuss. You can see him so excited only in very rare cases; Aventurine has to restrain himself so as not to shower you with love and gifts ahead of time.

The blonde, despite his bright and pretentious appearance, is not a big fan of parties, he will prefer to celebrate this day in your company and will be glad if you want this too.

Aventurine doesn't like to waste money on small things, he has enough money to, as he likes to say, buy an entire planet, so spending a couple of million won't affect his wallet. Fortunately, you managed to convince him not to spend money on unnecessary things, to put it mildly. He offered to buy you a chocolate fountain with the most serious face possible, and if Aventurine hadn't been so cute, he would have received more than a light blow to the back of the head. Although he will still try to convince you to go shopping to show you the place with the most beautiful outfits and even underwear.

But he always tries to create a gift with his own hands. Aventurine took knitting lessons because you told him how your friend's girlfriend knitted a scarf for him. He suffered for several weeks, but still knitted some semblance of a scarf (he usually knitted at work, and his employees constantly heard the roar and swearing outside the door). But he was so happy when you started wearing it!

One day he decided to create a statue of you for your birthday with his own hands, and, of course, Ratio was to be his teacher. Ratio had to avoid the impudent player for several weeks, who came to his classes and distracted him with his antics. In the end, they settled on a medium-sized statue, because Aventurine would not have been able to make a large one in a short time (and he also did not want to spend all the clay on a three-meter statue).

Aventurine is frankly bad in cooking, especially in baking. You have to watch his every move, because otherwise there will be nothing left of the kitchen. Therefore, Aventurine usually orders a cake from the best candy chefs in the galaxy, sometimes he chooses something unusual, but first of all, Aventurine chooses what you like.

But this does not mean that Aventurine will not surprise you with breakfast in bed. He'll get up as early as possible, careful not to wake you up or step on any cat creatures, and head to the kitchen. Aventurine loves it when you make breakfast together, but he is also a romantic.

You reluctantly open your eyes, squinting because of the bright rays of sunlight penetrating through the curtains. You wanted to raise your hand, a smile appeared on your face when you saw two cat-like creatures pressed against you, one of them laying on your hand, and it was a hopeless situation.

This cute picture quickly faded into the background when something fell in the kitchen with a terrible crash, making you and the two cats jump in surprise. Only now did you realize that your lover was not in bed.

Afraid that he would hurt himself, you gently threw the cats off your body and ran to the kitchen to find out what was going on.

A very funny picture appeared before your eyes: several pots were lying on the floor, broken eggs and puddles of milk decorated the tabletop and pajamas of Aventurine, who was standing near the stove with a cat in his hands. He laughed awkwardly and tried to cover up the horror that was happening on the table.

“Darling, why did you wake up so early?”

His failed attempt to distract you was met with silence and an incredulous look. After a minute, you pulled yourself together and ran towards him.

"Kakawasha, for the sake of the Eons, what happened here?"

Your hands gently touched his cheek, covered with some kind of dirt. The cat in his arms meowed contentedly and pressed himself against Aventurine, who simply shrugged.

“The blackie one wanted to play, and I couldn’t refuse him.”

You shook your head and gently hit Aventurine's forehead, making him wince in slight pain.

"You're such a troublesome guy."

“Hehe happy birthday, love.”

#hsr x reader #dr ratio x reader #aventurine x reader #honkai star rail x reader #female reader #honkai star rail #dr ratio #ruan mei #dr ratio fluff #aventurine fluff #Ruan Mei fluff #ruan mei x reader

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valkyrielevitt · 9 months

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Hogwarts Fashion During Hogwarts Legacy

A cheat-sheet for making your writing/art historically accurate, and some inspiration for your MC - women's addition.

Victorian fashion was complicated, both in terms of the construction and the rules that dictated when certain garments could be worn. Age played an important role in what a person was permitted to wear, so lets break it down that way:

Younger Students (Roughly years 1-4)

Generally speaking, girls dressed in similar styles to their mothers, but with altered hemline lengths. Up until roughly 13-14 years old (exact ages were decided by the girl's family) her hemline would fall around the knee. At 14 it would be lowered to the middle of the shins.

At this age girls would wear dresses, and so you could suggest that Hogwarts uniforms for girls at this age would not consist of the shirt and skirt combo that MC and various NPCs wear.

Most schools in the 1890s did not have set uniforms, but instead girls were expected to wear an apron to protect their clothes from ink and chalk dust.

At this age it was still considered socially acceptable for girls to wear their hair down, or in more simple hairstyles like braids. Popular hair accessories included ribbons and straw hats.

Time for some examples:

This is an example of a day dress (casual clothes) from 1893. Smocking (the embroidery technique used at the collar, waist and cuffs) was popular in young girls clothes.

Another example of children in day dress. The girl on the far left is probably about 13-14, the older girl on the right is closer to 15.

An example of the aprons worn by younger students.

Details of the dresses worn underneath (technically from 1897 but the styles are fairly similar)

Details of the aprons worn

Older Students (Roughly years 5-7)

Around the time that the MC joins at Hogwarts, she would, depending on her personal preferences, have kept her skirt at her mid shin or dropped the hem to her ankles. Around the age of 17, girls would be expected to fully let down their hems to the floor, signifying their shift to adulthood.

At this point dresses would become less popular during the day, and were replaced by blouses (complete with very large sleeves) and a skirt. Men's tailoring and sports clothes shaped women's fashion at the time, and greatly influenced what girls wore at this age.

Girls would also typically stop wearing their hair down during the day, resorting to simple up-dos instead.

The time at which each girl made these changes depended on her and her family. While some girls had no choice but to listen to their parents, often they were able to bargain for an extra few months if they so wished.

An example of two girls around the age of 15 in very typical day outfits.

A selection of school girls - those sitting are no older than 14, those standing are no older than 16.

At the age of 15-16 girls would begin to attend more family functions and required new styles of clothes. These paintings show the same tea gown. These were made to be worn at home, never in public, when the family was hosted guests or a less formal dinner. They could be worn at all times of the day.

Day clothes for students who dressed as adults (17+):

A British Upper VI class (age 17-18) and some teachers in 1894. All girls now wear dresses with their hems on the ground, and hair tied up.

Middle class girls fashion in the 1890s

A Woman's sweater from 1895

Walking outfit from 1894 - essentially a more substantial outfit for spending time outdoors.

A more expensive version of a day outfit.

Tea gowns:

Generally identified by their loose fit, high neckline, and a train that falls from the shoulders. Additionally they may also be made with a large coat over the top. The shape was inspired by medieval fashion and so they're a good source of inspiration for the wizarding world imo.

Evening gowns:

Worn for the most formal evening events, and generally expose more skin than day clothes. Staple accessories included fans, opera gloves, and (if you're that way inclined) tiaras were coming into popularity at this time.

Rule of thumb for all fashion at this time, the sleeves get largest in the middle of the decade, and shrink back down again towards the end.

1894

1893

1898

1893-1895

1894

1898

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bukuoshin · 2 years

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Ouchie, my head. Ouchie, my head. Ouchie, my head.

#rae rants #i have a headache and heartburn and mg throat hurts cuz the ac's been on and i got bit by a mosquito and and and ( ╥ω╥ )#i hope it doesnt rain tomorrow cuz then the mosquitoes will come out. and im drying an armchair pillow outside rn too.#i have to bring it and the trashcan in first thing then i get to work on fun stuff.#im altering a new thing~ im happy abt it~#its easier to do than embroidery rn. theyll both be easier once the chair is back in.#tomorrow i have to paint some edges on the shirt and start on making the stencils. whichll be easier on my neck than embroidery.#not by much but by enough.#i took... some sort of night time pill. hopefully that helps with the headache and throat. im also having some throat coat tea.

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justporo · 7 months

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A Night of Staying In

After all the doom and gloom in other writing I really needed some cutesy fluff to feel myself again - and also to give Astarion and Tav a break.

Summary: So have Tav and Astarion just enjoying a cozy night in - also Astarion gets a carrot hurled at his face.

Pairing: Astarion/GN!Tav Warnings: Mention of sex, a carrot gets thrown and then murdered Wordcount: 2,2k

Delicious smells of slowly cooking meats and vegetables, spices and a forgotten mint tea were wafting through the kitchen of your cozy little townhouse.

You were bustling around the well-equipped kitchen. The apron you were wearing was full of stains and its pockets full of cooking utensils – even a half-full spoon absent-mindedly tugged away in one of them. It was slowly leaking through the linen with something on it that looked like blood – but was simply a tomatoey sauce. Your hair was messily put up in a bun, but several strands of hair had fallen out of it and you looked only so far from a mental breakdown.

At the kitchen table Astarion was sitting with a lantern, bowing over an embroidery project. He had the very bright lantern you’d gifted him specifically for this purpose directly next to him, but he was still squinting at his work and holding it so close his nose was almost touching the fabric. He looked a lot less demented than you but still very absent-minded.

Fabrics and threads were strewn all about the wooden table. Different needles were glinting everywhere on it too. One could only hope that those would be remembered at some point – preferably before someone stuck them in their fingers.

Next to him were also laying some loose papers, a feather and an ink pot with lots of writing that was then crossed out again and also some small little doodles on the corners – one for whatever reason happened to be a goose with a knife in its beak.

You had several pots on the iron stove and something about to go in the oven as well. Critically you were moving around between all of these things, clattering with copper pot lids, jars of ingredients and spoons to try the food (always in the same pattern: grabbing a new spoon, trying something, putting the spoon in the dish bowl full of dirty water – then having to grab a new spoon). You had some potatoes boiling and in another pot you had been cooking a mixture of vegetables and beef for quite some time. You wanted to recreate a recipe of cottage pie that you had once tried many years ago in a tavern and had kept reappearing in your dreams. And now you finally had the kitchen and the tools to try and cook it yourself!

But it seemed impossible to get it right, this already being your fourth attempt this week. The vampire had already been moaning that you had basically force-fed him the meal because you had no way of eating that much pie on your own. It was not, that the finished pies hadn’t tasted well, but they just weren’t like you remembered. But you started to think that it might be your memory that was tricking you and not your cooking skills.

You went to try the pie filling again after adding some more spices and dash more red wine (directly from your goblet because you didn’t seem to remember where you put the bottle).

As soon as the spoonful hit your tongue you knew you had done it – finally.

You shrieked and immediately heard another shriek behind you in reply. You turned around to Astarion with glee and saw how the vampire was staring at you angrily and shaking his hand. It didn’t take a genius to figure out your sudden excitement had caused him to stab himself with his needle.

“Darling, can you maybe not scream like a dying goblin, I was concentrating!”, he hissed at you. Your joy evaporated at his flare of anger – so you turned around again, grabbed a left over half of carrot and threw it at Astarion – and maybe a bit more forceful than would have been necessary.

But he was still a rogue and dodged the vegetable easily. It flew against one of the cabinets and then to the ground. There it stayed until Scratch came into the kitchen, drawn there by the sudden noises. The dog sniffed at the piece of vegetable, then grabbed it and went off again.

“Oh really, are we at the ‘I throw stuff at my lover’ point of our relationship now, love?”, Astarion replied to your responsive outburst of anger with a raised eyebrow. “Am I going to have to sleep on the sofa next?”, he continued sassily.

Your hand itched to grab more produce – there were some potatoes still laying around and they made for excellent improvised throwing weapons. But you saw the smirk that played around the vampire’s lips. So you settled for a verbal rebuttal.

“Don’t be such a prick and you can keep sleeping inside”, you said and flipped him off. Then you turned around again to your cooking and grabbed – yet another – spoon and scooped up some of the filling. The vampire mumbled something under his breath about he wouldn’t have to be a prick if you didn’t make him prick himself.

“Oh, that would be so gracious of you, my dear lady, if I was still allowed in your shining presence”, Astarion then said loudly as you were busy with the pots. The tone still very sassy but you heard the playfulness in it now and knew he was now only teasing.

You went over to him, with one hand under the spoon full of hot goodness that immediately started dripping and burning your hand. You winced but kept going.

“Here, try this – I think I got it now”, you said as you stood in front of Astarion who had put down his needlework for the time being. He threw you a pained look: “Love, if you keep feeding me this I think I might actually start to get a pot belly.”

You snorted at him and eyed what you could see of his upper body. “Pretty sure, you will never have to worry about this kind of thing. Now. Try. It”, you answered and insistingly came closer with the spoon.

Astarion sighed, gave you another suffering look and then let himself be fed. His doubtful expression quickly changed to what you interpreted as pleasantly surprised.

“Alright, I take everything back, that was well worth the scream of enlightenment, my sweet. That tastes wonderful”, the vampire said and grinned at you.

“See, wasn’t so hard, was it”, you said and gave him a quick peck on the lips as you could see his face changing to annoyance once more at your petty remark.

You threw the spoon in the dish bowl and rubbed your hands on your apron and started to get everything ready for the final step of the recipe. Meanwhile you said to Astarion: “So, darling, could you write down the following: one and a half cups of red wine and three instead of two sprigs of thyme and just loads of black pepper.”

“Of course, my darling chef”, Astarion replied cheerfully and grabbed the feather and papers laying next to him to write it down. “Any other changes?”

“No, this will be it”, you responded and happily clapped your hands before you put your filling in a cast iron pan, mashed and seasoned the potatoes and then put them down as the topping of your pie. The final touch was some hearty cheese sprinkled on top. Then you put it all in the oven.

In the meantime, you heard the feather scratching over the paper.

“What are you doing, Astarion?”, you asked as you took off the oven mitts from pushing the pan in to cook.

“Just putting the recipe in clean writing for you, my heart”, the vampire replied as he kept looking through older versions and notes on the papers. Brows furrowed as he was concentrating on it.

“That’s sweet, love, thank you”, you said to him but he didn’t reply and probably hadn’t even noticed. Of course – if you said something actually nice you fell on deaf ears.

So you decided to thank him with another gesture. You grabbed another goblet to pour your vampire a cup of wine but as you looked around to find the opened bottle you saw that it had been next to Astarion with an already filled cup all along.

You gave up and sat down across the table with your own cup of wine as Astarion finished up writing. You put one leg up on the bench and hugged it to your chest, head on top of the knee and watched the pale elf.

“Here you go, my sweet”, the vampire exclaimed cheerfully after a few more moments and handed you the finished recipe that was now written cleanly in his neat and beautiful handwriting. ‘Tav’s specialty cottage pie’ stood atop the page and next to it was a little doodle of some steaming hot pie.

You smiled broadly at Astarion: “Thank you, darling.” Then you shortly leaned on the table, almost climbing over it to give him a kiss while carefully trying to avoid the needles.

“Do you sometimes wonder how we ended up like this?”, you softly asked him after you had read through the finished recipe.

“Like what?”

“Well, like this – all domestic. I’m cooking, you’re embroidering, we’re bickering like an old married couple, drinking wine and just enjoying a cozy night in instead of wreaking havoc somewhere out there”, you said and waved vaguely in the direction of the city beyond the walls of your home. Then you took another sip of wine.

“Let’s be honest with ourselves, we’ve been bickering like that from the moment we met”, Astarion answered and looked at you sternly. You shrugged in agreement.

“As for the rest – well, are you enjoying the way we spend our nights like this sometimes? Because if you’re bored-“

“No no, I’m enjoying this an awful lot. It’s just – this is somehow the most unlike turn of events don’t you think? Like, I sometimes can’t believe we actually ended up in the version where we’ll live happily ever after”, you said and cradled your face in your hand not currently holding a cup of wine.

At your words a warm and adoring smile crept onto Astarion’s face.

“Are you though?”, you asked then.

“Hm?”

“Are you enjoying these kinds of nights?”, you asked Astarion again and lifted your head up to look straight at him.

The vampire looked at you, smile still playing around his lips: “Well, my love, after two hundred years full of godsdamned shit I am enjoying this sort of mundanity quite a lot. And I enjoy it even more because I get to spend it with you. I might even enjoy doing the dishes with you later on – unless you don’t splash me like last time.”

You smiled at him too now, broadly – feeling incredibly lucky that you had indeed taken all the right turns that had led you here, to this: sitting at this kitchen table with the love of your life, talking about doing the dishes.

“But if we ever get bored, my sweet, I have quite a lot of ideas on how to spice things up”, Astarion continued afterwards. The smile morphed into a lewd smirk and his red eyes sparkled mischievously: “For example, I could dramatically throw everything on this table to the ground, rip all your clothes off and have my way with you on this table until you forget your own name.”

His voice had suddenly become deep and smooth like dark molten chocolate. You bit your bottom lip as the mental image of his words set in and you just stared into his eyes point blank. Astarion still looked at you, not breaking eye contact, and his teasing smirk only growing.

“Nah”, you made after some more moments, “not tonight. My cottage pie would burn.” Your tone was matter-of-fact and you drank some more of your wine while still looking into the vampire’s eyes.

Then you both broke down laughing. So much so that you had to wipe tears from your eyes by the end and Astarion had his face buried in one of his hands while silent fits of laughter still shook through him.

“Alright”, he said and bit his lip, one of his fangs showing adorably as if he was a cat, “I’ll write it down for another date night then.” You broke out laughing again.

Until you could actually smell your food burning. With an “oh shit” you jumped up and pulled the pan out of the oven – you had saved it just in time.

You got out some plates and forks, and put some generous servings onto them. As you turned around your gaze fell onto the table full of Astarion’s embroidery supplies. Astarion saw your look, then waved it off, dismissing it.

He grabbed one of the filled plates from you and grabbed your then free hand to lead you to the living room. Scratch was there laying on his designated blanket, chewing on his favourite ball. Some telltale orange spots telling the tale of the fallen carrot.

You settled down on your sofa with your food – you swinging your legs over Astarion’s and getting cozy.

And this is where you stayed: eating until you felt like your belly might burst, joking until you were crying again, talking until you got so tired you almost drifted off into dreaming right then and there. And when you had went to bed: holding each other until you woke up in the other’s arms again.

#astarion #astarion x tav #baldurs gate #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #astarion x reader #astarion x mc #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x oc #astarion x you #fanfic #fanfiction #astarion ancunin #bg3 spoilers #tav #one shot #drabble #poro fics

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plussizefantasia · 5 days

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Don't Cry Over Spilled Lemonade

Anthony Bridgerton x f!reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: None that I can think of, this is kinda angsty tho

A/N: Surprise post IG I wrote this in my notes app because I couldn't sleep so if there are spelling or grammar issues I'm sorry. let me know if you want a part two because I wouldn't mind continuing this.

Anthony adored how close you were to his siblings. You had become a close family friend ever since you defended Daphne against some creep at her first-ever ball out in society, it was your second season and you had taken it upon yourself to keep an eye on the diamond, looking out for her quietly in the background.

You weren’t going to intervene at all, just offer her some advice woman to woman if the need arose but when you saw Baron Taylor grab the redhead by the wrist you couldn’t hold back.

Anthony himself was only seconds away from coming to his sister's aid when you ‘accidently’ tripped into the man spilling your glass of lemonade down the front of his vest.

“Perhaps my Lord if we kept our hands to ourselves certain… interventions might’ve not had to happen. Don’t you think?” When Anthony had seen your raised eyebrow and defensive posture all aimed at the scumbag who dared lay a hand on his baby sister he couldn’t help but fall a little bit in love right then and there. Not that he’d ever admit it to himself or anyone else for that matter.

A day later Daphne had invited you to tea at their family house in order to thank you for the rescue and potentially make a new friend and ally within the marriage mart.

Ever since that day, you’d been a regular in his home, but you were never there for him as much as he’d have liked you to be. No, you were always there for one of his siblings. You were there to talk with Daphne, first about her counting of the duke and then slowly transitioning into how she felt about being a married woman and then a mother. He could also find you sketching in silence next to Benedict, the two of you after attending to draw the same scene and then critiquing each other's work when you were done. You would trade books and ideas with Eloise, listen to Fran play the piano while working on your embroidery, and the scenes which would warm his heart the most, you’d come around to chase after Greg and Hyancith playing with them in the gardens and keeping a watchful eye to make sure they stayed safe.

Anthony adored how close you were to his siblings, and he loathed how much of a distance there seemed to be between the two of you.

You were cold to the Viscount, you had been since the evening you came to Daphne’s rescue, he had attempted to give you his thanks and you had simply excused yourself, “My apologies my Lord but I seem to be down a glass of lemonade presently and I find myself to be quite parched, excuse me.” Your tone was cold and Anthony spent the rest of that night and the next two years trying to figure out what he possibly couldn’t done to make you so icy towards him.

“I do not understand it Ben, she is so kind and lovely to the rest of you but is like a stone wall when it comes to me, what could I be missing?”

“Perhaps she just doesn’t like you brother have you ever thought of that?” Benedict was too preoccupied with this still life to deal with his older brothers pining at the moment.

“That is not possible, I’ve done nothing but be the perfect gentleman to her.”

“Anthony I have no idea why dear Y/N does not like you but what exactly will you whining in my studio do about that?”

“I resent that. I am not whining I am simply asking my dearest brother for his advice on a matter I care very much about. I thought that was what brothers were for.”

“You want my advice, Anthony? Think. Think long and hard about what you want and how you’ll get it because Y/N has no patience for wishy-washy men.”

“That is horrible advice, Ben.”

“When then perhaps you can find better advice from your other brothers. Which will it be Anthony, the one who has been blindly in love with his best friend for years, or the ten-year-old?”

“I hate it when you’re right.”

“I know. Now leave, that storm cloud above your head is casting shadows on my fruit.” Ben pointed his paintbrush at the bowl of fruit balanced atop a stool. Anthony huffed and knowing that it would bother his brother, he grabbed the apple off the top of the pile and took a bite of it as he strode out of the room

Ben had told him to think, but Anthony didn’t know what to think about. He knew that he craved your attention. He knew that he enjoyed seeing you around his house, interacting with the people whom he loves. He enjoyed hearing your witty comebacks and the way that even if you were not doing anything in particular you still fill the space you’re in.

He wanted her in his life, and if he was being completely honest with himself he wanted more than that.

It’s during his musing that he runs into her in the hallway, you have a book clutched within your hand, and your head is held high. You don’t stop your stride even though he knows that you saw him. He bites his lip and tampers down a smirk. Add another thing to that list of things he likes about you, you have fire, he just wished that it wasn’t always aimed at him.

“Lady, L/N which one of my dear siblings are you spending your day with today?” He attempts to match his pace with yours catching up to you so that the two of you walk shoulder and shoulder.

“Actually, Lord Bridgerton, I was having tea with your mother this afternoon she invited me over so we could discuss what to do about Frannie’s debut next season.”

This was not something that normal family friends do, you know that and he knows that. His sibling’s entrances into society are a matter which the viscountess must handle, something his mother has had to continue to do because of his lack of a wife.

“That was very kind of you to help her with.”

“Well, she doesn’t have anyone else to help her.” Your words cut him down, not for the first time.

“Lady L/N may I be frank?”

“It is your home, you may do as you please.” You turn to face him, your face a mask of indifference.

“What have I done to cross you, for the longest time I have known you you have been cold to me and I do not understand why?”

“I had figured that you did not remember, either that or you had purposely forgone trying to speak with me about it.”

“About what?”

“Our first meeting My Lord.”

“I remember our first meeting very clearly, it is one of my fondest memories seeing you stand up for Daphne and ruin Lord Taylor’s vest.” He tilts his head to the side and smiles at the memory.

“That was not the first time we met My Lord, the first time we met you snubbed me in front of the entire ton and sparked rumors that did not leave me until two seasons later.” She was harsh in her words and the tightness in her shoulder’s belayed her desire to flee.

Anthony was speechless, surely he had not? He would’ve remembered her, would’ve remembered turning down one of the most beautiful women he had ever met, intentionally or otherwise.

“I- I beg your deepest forgiveness Y/N I do not remember and if I had I would’ve tried to make it up to you tenfold by now.”

Your eyes began to gloss over and you looked at the wall beside his head, “It was my first season out, Lady Danbury’s ball, and I had seen you standing there surrounded by other gentleman. I had thought you a very fine figure and despite the rumor mill telling me you were nothing but a rake I had tried to begin a conversation. All you did was turn to me and laugh. I wasn’t asked to dance for the entire rest of that season and it was only until my Mother forced the son of one of her garden party friends to dance with me was that streak broken. You were the first and only man I had ever attempted to pursue and you laughed in my face. Were it not for my deep need to help those I see in need I would never have talked to you or any member of the Bridgerton family for the rest of my life.”

“You must know that I regret that, I regret everything I have ever done to hurt you and I will spend the rest of my days working for your forgiveness.” If Anthony was a weaker man he would’ve fallen to his knees and begged for your forgiveness until his last breath, right there in the hallways of his family’s home.

“I appreciate your words Anthony, but that’s all they are… words. I am unmarried, one year from becoming a spinster in the eyes of the entire ton, and you, you are the only one I can blame.” You don’t wait for his reply, just stalking off and wiping the tears from your eyes.

Anthony resolved himself in that moment. He would do whatever it took to make it up to you, to bring a smile to your face, and to cast away the hurt he had caused.

#anthony bridgerton x plus size reader #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #bridgerton imagine #x reader #fanfic #bridgerton fanfiction #plus size reader #plus size!reader #drabble #requests open #requests wanted #bridgerton

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kyu-piddy · 27 days

Text

The Mother-in-law

In celebration of Mother’s Day in my country, here are some headcanons of meeting characters' moms (and a grandma).

Gn reader x Jade, Floyd, Kalim, Sebek

Afab reader x Ruggie

Tw: None

1.8k words

Having a boyfriend comes with extra relationships, and you’re about to meet one of the people most important to him.

Mama Leech

Mama Leech is a classy lady. Tall and lanky like her sons, she exudes an air of elegance but also threatening, her sharp teeth gleaming like pearls.

She sometimes comes to land on business matters, and knowing that you were dating one of her sons, she just had to meet you.

Sitting across from her at the Mostro Lounge is a nerve wracking experience. You feel like you have forgotten how to even use a fork.

She daintily stabs hers on the steak, her enigmatic yellow eyes never leaving yours.

Her voice is velvety smooth, sharing pleasantries with you, all talk but with as much substance as water has flavor.

Suddenly, she goes quiet, her teeth seemingly becoming more jagged.

“I hope you do have good intentions with my son. He’s a nice boy who deserves the best, don’t you think so?”

“I don’t know what the “best” could be, but I do think he deserves to be happy in the way he wants to be.”

She continues with amicable and innocent topics thereafter.

If you’re dating Jade, she’ll say:

“My dear Jade is such a hard worker. You must help him relax from time to time, or he’ll overwork himself.”

If you’re dating Floyd, she’ll say:

“My dear Floyd changes like the currents. When you’re around him you’ll never know how he’ll react! It’s so delightful.”

Regardless of who has captured your heart, she’ll offer you a little trade secret.

“There’s something nobody knows, not even his twin, that when he was little, he…”

Before she can continue, the tweels appear to retrieve the plates and silverware.

If you’re dating Jade:

“I hope the meal was to your liking.” says Jade.

“Jadeeee! Mamma was about to share something fun! ___ wants to know too, right?”

“But it is rather impolite to share others secrets, is it not, mother?”

If you’re dating Floyd:

“Mama! Ya can’t talk about me behind my back! I'm the one who’s gonna share secrets with ___!”

“Now, now Floyd. We shouldn’t interrupt our clients' meal.”

Mama Leech smiles innocently at her children.

“It seems time has passed by way too quickly. I must take my leave.”

She stood up so graciously you would have never believed she had fins instead of legs most of the time.

“It was a pleasure meeting you, my dear. And you, my darling boys, don’t forget to answer my messages more often!”

With that said, she gave you and her sons a tight hug, before disappearing out the door.

Lady Al-Asim

Lady Al-Asim is a beautiful woman. She’s not called the rose of the desert for no reason. But unlike what that title might suggest, she is not fragile.

Once she learned that Kalim had gotten a partner, she wanted to meet them as soon as possible.

You’d be invited to spend some time with her in her wing of the Al-Asim estate, along with Kalim, so he could introduce you to her.

The meeting place is a room filled with pillows and carpets. As you sit on a plush purple pillow with golden embroidery, you can’t help but think that it must be worth more than everything in Ramshackle combined.

Kalim grabs your hand and smiles radiantly at you, calming your nerves.

Lady Al-Asim enters, a goddess among humans, ladened with jewelry and precious silks.

But the most beautiful part of it all is her warm gaze at seeing her son, and the way she walks slightly faster than what you assume is protocol to greet him.

After inspecting her son and filling him with kisses, she sits in the middle of a dune of pillows in front of you.

“Hello, my dear. How do you do?”

“You must be feeling awfully warm. I’ll ask for some drinks to be fetched. Are 12 varieties of tea and 23 of soft drinks alright with you?”

Her words are polite and warm, and the conversation is pleasant.

Kalim sings your praises at every opportunity, and so does his mother, remembering with staggering accuracy the things he has told her (and they were many).

It feels like you’re in a competition to see who can praise you the most.

It’s embarrassing, but they’re both so genuine in their compliments and admiration that you can’t help but feel your heart well up with happiness.

“Oh goodness, look at the time. It’s getting rather late and you both need to go to bed early.”

Kalim deflates a little, but perks right back up.

“That’s fine, mother. After we graduate we’ll have way more time to chat like this, as a family!”

You almost spat the tea you were drinking, but Lady Al-Asim's smile just got bigger.

She escorted you both personally out of the room and into the teleportation mirror, giving Kalim a big hug and ordering servants to bring him piles upon piles of things.

Kalim went ahead, leaving you alone with his mom for a bit.

“Take care of my dear Sunshine. He loves you very much and I reckon you love him too. And above all else, be happy.”

Out of her pocket she retrieved a small golden bracelet.

“Ground my son. But also let him sweep you up in his magic carpet once in awhile.”

You arrived at NRC feeling warmer than when you were in Silk City.

Grandma Bucchi

Grandma Bucchi is a kind old woman. Her face is marred with age, but she moves with the speed of someone three times younger than her.

Ruggie wanted to introduce her to you, seeing as she is the most important person in his life.

Initially he was a bit reluctant to bring someone like you to the slums where he grew up, but since you were so insistent on meeting her, he eventually relented.

Once inside the house, a humble abode filled with knick knacks of various origins, a tasty smell fills your lungs.

Grandma Bucchi leaves the kitchen with her gray hair in a bun, cleaning her hands in her apron.

“Ruggie boy, is that you?”

“Yeah, Grandma. It’s me.”

The small woman approaches her grandson and squeezes his cheek.

“I could barely recognize you. You’re almost skin and bones. Don’t they feed you at that fancy school?”

As she stops pinching his cheeks she turns to you.

“So you’re the famous ___? You’re rather pretty aren’t you?”

Before you can thank her, the old woman is already walking back to the kitchen.

“I’m finishing my stew. Sit down and sip some dawa.”

“Grandma, let me help ya. You know your bones aren’t what they used to be.”

“Ah, boy! Don’t get between me and my kitchen. And don’t leave your datemate hanging.”

You sat down on the wooden chair and sipped the warm drink on the table. It had a sweet, and despite being warm, fresh after taste.

You both sat in silence, the sound of the sizzling water filling the background.

Soon after Grandma Bucchi came out of the kitchen holding a big pot, a heavenly smell permeating from it.

“Dig in, children.”

You gladly started eating, and soon the lul of chewing and conversation filled the room.

“I hope my grandson has been treating you well. He can be a handful sometimes, I tell you. But he’s a great cook.”

The day soon turned to night, and the time to leave was approaching.

“Before you leave, children, take the rest with you. I want you both to be eating well!”

“Granny, ya should keep it for you and the kids.”

“Oh, Ruggie, we have enough for all of us. Just don’t give me any more kids to take care of! At least for now.”

You both blush profusely, heat creeping up to your ears.

“We ain’t gonna do that! Bye, Grandma!”

You both hastily left, but you could swear you could hear the old woman chuckle under her breath “ah young love”.

Mrs Zigvolt

Mrs Zigvolt is a tall imposing woman, boisterous, full of pride for her family and also a truly powerful fae.

From the moment your relationship became official, Sebek wanted you to meet his mother.

To him, she’s perfect, and he wishes for her to approve of his relationship.

When he got news that she’d visit the NRC campus he was overjoyed, and immediately designed a plan to teach you as much about fae culture as possible.

His passion is admirable, but it’s obvious he’s incredibly nervous, practicing in front of his mirror what he’ll say to his mother.

On the day of the visit, he waits for her in the mirror hall, standing as straight as if he was practicing a drill.

You put your hand on his shoulder, and see him relax just a tiny bit.

When his mother arrived, tall and full-figured, she reminded you of a well trained soldier, but the moment she saw her son her face lit up, and she quickly strode to him, hugging him with all his might.

“I missed you so much, Sebby! Look at you! You’ve grown so much!”

Her deep and mature voice was surprisingly complementary to her words.

Sebek kept his straight posture, his eyes gleaming like stars.

“Yes mother! I have grown exactly 2,7 cm since you last saw me.”

Mrs Zigvolt smiled lovingly at her son.

“And who might this be?” She asked, turning to you.

“Mother, this is the person I am romantically entangled with. They do not distract me from my studies nor my duty to protect Lord Malleus.”

“And do they make you happy?”

Sebek's cheeks turned bright pink, his posture becoming stiffer.

“Yes, mother. They make me very happy.

His mother clapped her hands and gave you a bright smile.

“That’s what I wanted to hear. Has my son been treating you well, young one? I sure hope so! He can be a bit of a handful.”

She leaned down to whisper in your ear.

“We thought he’d never let himself find someone, especially so soon. But he did, and from what he has told us, he’s quite head over heels for you.”

“Mother, we must hurry if we want to complete the school tour on time!” called Sebek from the entrance, already on his way out, the tip of his ears pink.

“Yes, yes, Sebby. We’re coming!”

He left the mirror hall, and you started walking to catch up to him.

“One last thing.”

She lightly tapped your forehead with her clawed finger.

“Use your head, but don’t forget your heart, okay?”

You nodded your head, and she smiled, booping your nose.

“Now let us go to our Sebby, or the poor boy might die of stress waiting for us.”

You left the mirror hall with a good feeling about this first meeting.

#twst #twisted wonderland #x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #Jade Leech #Floyd Leech #Kalim Al-Asim #Sebek Zigvolt #Ruggie Bucchi #Kyusbow

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kwanisms · 1 year

Text

Kinkuary 03 Jeonghan — somnophilia // lingerie

➥ idol!Jeonghan × non idol!Reader summary: Jeonghan and Y/N have a nonverbal form of communicating consent for their shared somnophilia kink. Y/N wears lingerie if she wants him to fuck her in her sleep which Jeonghan is always down for. wc: 1.4k warnings: afab reader, adult dialogue, sexual content (minors dni!): jeonghan has a lingerie kink, unprotected sex (use protection!), sensual massage, somnophilia (sex while one party is sleeping. they've established a form of consensual communication), sleepy sex, jeonghan cums on the reader's ass, slight hair pulling, a little praise and some pet names (angel, sweetheart, honey, baby) Permanent taglist: @yoonguurt @candidupped Kinkuary full taglist: @baldi-2 @wonderfulshinee @lacie220900 @sup-dallyboy Seventeen taglist: @aikisbbq @95cheols @drunk-on-dk @niktwazny303 MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. Join the taglist!

a/n: somnophilia is one of my favorite kinks to read but I've never written it so I'm glad I decided to try it out. The idea of my partner using me while I'm sleeping or possibly even waking me up by fucking me is so hot and so underrated for real. As always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only. banner made by me. I do not allow reposts or translations of my works. All my works are ©️ kwanisms.

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Somnophilia, the desire to have sex with an unconscious, sleeping or comatose person who is unable to respond.

Not exactly everyone’s cup of tea, but it certainly was yours. And lucky for you, it was also your boyfriend’s.

The first time you mentioned your interest in the kink, Jeonghan’s interest was piqued immediately, asking many questions to learn more about your kink. As you explained the fantasy of being used while you were asleep, you noticed Jeonghan was just as into the idea as you were.

Of course, nothing could happen without consent and there laid a problem. How would you consent to him using you while you slept? Jeonghan came up with the perfect solution. Lingerie.

Your boyfriend made it known early on that he loved lingerie. You could count the times you had sex completely bare on one hand. The rest of the time had been in the comfort of your shared bedroom, you donned in lace sets he purchased just for you.

“So if I want to be used in my sleep, I just wear this?” You asked, holding up the newest set Jeonghan had purchased for you during his trip to Paris fashion week. He nodded eagerly, smiling widely. “Precisely,” he answered, watching as you inspected the material.

It was a beautiful three piece set. A bra, panty, and garter belt set, all black mesh and lace with pink floral embroidery. You glanced back up at him. “Okay,” you answered simply, mirroring his smile. Jeonghan leaned across the sofa, pressing a quick kiss to your lips.

It was an unorthodox system but it worked for the both of you. You got what you wanted and your boyfriend got what he wanted. It was a win-win situation.

Jeonghan seemed to think so when he arrived home late one night from practice to find you passed out in your shard bed, covers resting around your thighs and the black set on full display.

Practice had been particularly rough that day, no one seemed to want to be there and they all agreed their heads weren’t in the right space. Despite that, each one of them persevered through it, managing to get through the day.

You’d sent words of encouragement and support to Jeonghan through KKT throughout the day and if he was being honest, he wasn’t sure he’d make it through without your constant support.

So when he came home to find you wearing the black set, it was like a dream come true.

Jeonghan decided to clean up before joining you in bed, undressing and getting into the shower.

Once done in the shower and dried, Jeonghan finally entered the bedroom and climbed into bed, pulling back the covers and slipping under them.

He rolled over to look at you, watching the way you mumbled sleepily and shifted, bringing your knee up a little higher and showing off the curve of your ass unintentionally.

Jeonghan scooted closer, propping himself up on one elbow and reaching over slowly to brush your hair back a little. His thumb traced the curve of your cheek before moving down to toy with the black mesh of your lingerie.

His eyes continued to wander, his hand following the same path slowly until his hand was resting on the small of your back. His eyes moved back up, looking at your face and making sure you were still deep in slumber before he moved his hand again, smoothing over your ass and giving it a firm squeeze.

You moaned in your sleep, pressing back against Jeonghan’s hand.

Jeonghan smiled, his free hand moving down to press against his hardening cock.

The hand on your body continued to slowly massage, gripping and smoothing over the exposed skin while he continued to palm himself through his pants.

Sitting up carefully, Jeonghan moved the blanket back and shifted, pushing your legs aside to make space enough for him to settle between your thighs.

Both of his hands moved, fingers skimming up your thighs, stopping to rest on your ass before he hooked his fingers under the material of your panties and slowly pulled them down, discarding them quickly.

Even though you were deep in your sleep, Jeonghan could see that his touches and massaging had its intended effect on you and you were wet.

“I’ve barely touched you, baby,” he muttered under his breath, bringing two fingers to toy with your entrance, dropping down to find your clit and draw slow circles.

His other hand pushed his sweats and underwear down, freeing his cock as he scooted closer, pushing his fingers into your heat, pulling a moan from your sleeping form.

Jeonghan pulled his fingers out and brought them to his lips, cleaning them of your arousal before spitting into his hand and spreading it along his length.

He positioned the tip of his cock at your entrance and pushed into you, letting out a low groan at the way your walls hugged him as he bottomed out, hips flush with your ass.

“Shit, Y/N,” he whispered, not wanting to wake you with his voice. “You feel so good, baby.”

Pulling back slightly, Jeonghan thrust forward slowly, testing the waters and seeing just how deep in your slumber you were. When you didn’t react he kept going, thrusting a little harder.

Not wanting to hold you too tightly, he placed his hands on the mattress on either side of your hips and continued to thrust into you.

Your body jostled on the bed, soft gasps leaving your lips.

Jeonghan let out a low moan, hips faltering for just a moment before regaining his composure, feeling you start to stir under him.

“H-Hannie?” Your voice called out softly.

Jeonghan leaned over, pressing his lips to your shoulder. “Shh baby,” he replied just as softly. “Go back to sleep.”

“Mmm,” you murmured. “F-feels s-so good.”

“I know, baby,” Jeonghan answered, one of his hands moving to comb through your hair, fingers gripping the hair at the base of your head. “You feel so good, too,” he whispered.

“Don’t stop,” you gasped, fingers digging into the sheets, bracing yourself from the sharp snap of Jeonghan’s hips against your ass.

“Shh,” he whispered. “Be good for me. Relax and go back to sleep, angel,” Jeonghan moaned in your ear, tugging gently on your hair.

You let out a whine at the sensation, eyes shutting as you tried to do as he said.

You really wanted to go back to sleep, exhausted from being woken up so late but the pleasure you were feeling was stronger than your will to go to sleep, so you just laid still for your boyfriend, eyes shut as you gasped and whined with each thrust.

“Good girl,” Jeonghan groaned, his thrusts growing more frantic as he chased his high. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

You moaned out your boyfriend’s name, walls squeezing him as your own orgasm rolled over you. Jeonghan wasn’t far behind you, pulling out of you just in time to release on your ass, moaning out your name.

“Shit,” he huffed, sitting back on his heels. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he said sheepishly as he watched his cum slowly roll down the skin of your ass and drip onto your cunt. “I made a mess all over you.”

“S’okay, Hannie,” you murmured, cheek pressed against your pillow. “I’ll clean you up, honey,” he answered, climbing off the bed. “No, it’s okay!” You protested but he was in the bathroom and back with a warm, wet washcloth before you knew it.

“I’d feel horrible if you went to sleep all sticky,” he added as he wiped inside your thighs and ass clean. “I don’t mind,” you mumbled, making him chuckle.

“You’d mind in the morning,” he retorted and you realized he was absolutely right.

“Yeah,” you answered. “But I could always shower in the morning,” you added.

“Yeah, you could,” Jeonghan said with a chuckle as he finished wiping you clean.

“Let’s do that then,” he continued. “Let’s take a shower in the morning but for now, go back to sleep, honey,” he added, leaning over to press a kiss to your hair.

“Mmm, okay,” you murmured as he pulled the covers over you. He discarded the used towel in the hamper in the bathroom before joining you under the covers, smiling as you snuggled into him, burying your face in his chest.

“Goodnight, Hannie,” you whispered as he pulled you tight against him.

“Hmm, goodnight, angel.”

#seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen smut #seventeen x reader #yoon jeonghan #jeonghan scenarios #jeonghan imagines #jeonghan smut #jeonghan x reader #kwanisms kinkuary #kinkuary 2023

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blingblong55 · 5 months

Text

Merry little Christmas-141

Photo credits:(twitter/X) @/bigmikemw

A/N: Have yourself a merry little Christmas -Kasper <3

---- GN!Reader, platonic!relationship? fluff/comfort? ----

After so much loss, blood, tears and sweat, Task Force 141 found themselves in a cabin, a Christmas tree decorated, a fireplace lit and much laughter filled the room. The once empty and cold cabin now hosted the fond memory. It was the night before Christmas when not a soldier was awoken by night terrors, not even a gun used to inflict harm; the camouflaged stockings were hung by the Chimney with care, in hope that peace would soon be brought to their lives; The soldiers all nestled in their beds; Smoke from cigars now gone as even the eldest of them all slept well.

By morning, the soldiers woke up, Gaz, Price, Soap, Ghost and R/N and to their surprise, Kate Laswell had gifts that greeted them all. Price sat int he sofa first, Soap and Gaz smiling like they won the war. Ghost and R/N walked in with mugs for all to have and through the early morning, they read the letter that sat upon the chimney, opened gifts and smiled to know someone out there thought of them with care.

Gaz received a new hat, multiple actually, one that was happily decorated with the word 'Soccer' the same one he would wear to taunt his best mate for some time. Soap received a football signed and dedicated to him from his favourite team and a letter from his family back home. This of course brought the young soldier to tears as he smiled at the letters his mother so lovingly wrote for him. R/N, received a letter as well, written by Laswell, thanking the young soldier for their sacrifice when they helped Laswell in some past operation and then, the small box held a mask, made just for them. "Just like the one I lost." You recall a past operation, losing a mask and also losing part of yourself. "To the memory of the late R/N and here's to the new R/N, may they live forever." The embroidery read.

Ghost, receiving archived photos of his family, tea bags and Kentucky Bourbon. He chuckles as he remembers sharing a drink with Laswell many years ago and how he found himself sharing his life with her and Price. He holds the bottle, staring at it and smiling, someone remembered him. Price laughs, two boxes of cigars, all from the brand he adores and hidden behind a mug that read, "Soccer lover." He groans a laugh and shows it to Gaz who laughs and shows him the cap that was given to him. "Don't dare," Price points a finger only to have Gaz laugh, "I'm not missing a chance to wear this and annoy you." Now, Price has a gift idea for Gaz's birthday.

A knock on the door and when opened, they find Santa herself, wearing a Christmas hat and her wife behind her. "Good morning, hope you are all hungry for some homemade meal?" She shows the large trays of food, made the night before and for this occasion only. Kate's children run around, playing with the young soldiers as Price helps the two ladies with the table. "You didn't have to, Kate." She shakes her head, "Nonsense, you five deserve this and take it as a thank you for what you and the team have done for me." Kate's wife passes by Price, "Trust me, just take the food and eat, she won't take no for an answer."

Kate sighs, "Just eat, trust me, Martha Stewart helped me make this meal." "The book did, honey," Kate's wife corrects her from the kitchen. "What she said." Price chuckles, "Might as well do that." Throughout the cabin, the children ran around, showing off what Santa had brought them the night before to the young soldiers. Gaz and Soap are stuck playing with Nerf guns and the occasional Barbie break. R/N ran around the dining table, chasing the youngest child of Laswell. "Never seen Ghost so…happy and excited," Price mentions as he observes Ghost have a tea party with plushies and the little girl of Laswell.

"I think this is the first time he likes someone else's tea," Price jokingly says and watches Ghost get a fake tiara on his head. The little girl giggles any time Ghost pretends the tea is too hot and he sighs in relief when her younger brother plays doctor and helps Ghost with the pain.

And now, it is safe to say that for the first time in their lives, they have a photograph that celebrates how for a moment, war stopped, smiling all genuinely portrayed and all in Christmas sweaters as the photo was taken. 'Christmas of '23, TF 141 and The Laswells' the photo has written on the bottom. At this moment, is commemorates a new tradition, Christmas dinners at that cabin, where life is peaceful.

To the team, Thank you for your help and support in operations I have given throughout the years. It is my understanding you all will share a cabin this Christmas and in classic fashion, I have sent gifts for you to open the morning of December twenty-fifth. Times haven't been the greatest to you all but I promise that for at least this very moment, you shall be granted time to care for the other. It is also my understanding that you all consider yourself a family, which is why, by the time you read this letter, you'll get a knock on the door by the very family that considers you all a part of their family. And for all that I love, watch your words amongst my kids, all of you.

May you have a merry little Christmas, Kate Laswell.

Tags:

@eicee @loviie-stuff @liyanahelena @cinnamon-cola @sadieesssss @kitschaosden @wrathofcats @johfaam0 @frazie99 @spicypicklesoh @vampsquerade @tiredmetalenthusiast @jinxxangel13 @enarien @luvecarson @willowaftxn83-87 @saoirse06 @ikohniik

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orion4ever · 2 months

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can u do qiu and tamarack with an MC who LOVES to bake/cook but since theres not enough people in their house to eat it all of what they make most the time, they'll just knock on their doors like "do you want cookies? I just took them out the oven." or something

Author’s Note: Hi! I hoped you enjoy this, I have recently been getting into baking so this should be a fun write for me!

Pairing(s): Qiu Lin x MC and Tamarack Baumann x MC

🍪🧈🥄

QIU LIN 📝

Heck yeah! Free food!

When you first came into the problem of baking too much to eat, you were stumped

And when you expressed that to your dear friend, Qiu. They instantly volunteered as tribute to be a taste tester.

They want them as fresh as possible so they would probably just wait around your house or watch you bake them.

I don’t think they would help much other than passing you ingredients and maybe stirring the batter.

Only to get a lick of the batter

Of course, it's not because they don’t want to help or anything like that, they just know that you probably enjoy handling it on your own and being in your element without having some nerd ask them to go through the steps for the tenth time.

They get super excited when you try out a new pastry or recipe and have them be the very first to try it.

It feels like an exclusive event every time they get to be the first to try something of yours.

I headcanon that Qiu is kind of hopeless in the kitchen, preferring to just go to the diner or their parents if they want something.

They burn water so it’s mesmerized to watch you bake something from scratch.

I like to think that for a special occasion, they might try and bake you something either from scratch or a box mix!

“Wow! Did you bake this all for me? You’re so nice!”

Tamarack Baumann🍁

Gets PUMPED when finding this out!

Thinks this is something you can add to your guys’ tea parties! What's not better than some tea with homemade cookies and bread?

It’s like an actual fancy tea party now! :0

Tamarack isn’t super picky, but does appreciate variety! She encourages you to try out a bunch of different recipes regardless of the difficulty level.

Like, what do you mean you can’t make macaroons? You’re a master baker, you could try!

She doesn’t want you to be the only one pulling your weight to supply these tea parties, she will be bringing lots of teas and little stuff to put on them, like milk and honey!

Tamarack is crafty so I see her making you a little apron and custom mittens with while wonky, cute embroidery of your name!

This inspires her to make more stuff like a chef's hat which leads her down a sewing rabbit hole.

She eats most of what you bring her but she also likes inviting you inside to give them to her Omi and Opa!

She doesn’t care too much about the freshness of the cookies but she also enjoys watching you bake.

The energetic girl needs some downtime too and watching you bake is soothing to her.

“Treats? Yay! This will be nice for the tea party! Come, sit! I will get the tea you liked last time!”

#orion4ever #gb patch #fanfic #olnf #our life now and forever #olnf qiu #olnf tamarack #qiu lin x mc #qiu lin x reader #tamarack baumann x reader #tamarack baumann x mc #our life now and forever tamarack #our life now and forever qiu #qiu lin #tamarack baumann

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leighsartworks216 · 6 months

Note

hello i love your work, i check the collection on ao3 every morning like a newspaper haha. it astounds me how much you're able to write in such a short time. i also have a request. what are ur thoughts on this as tav and astarion (tav being the sleeper, astarion being the insomniac)

https://twitter.com/sevspam/status/1706371876367503693?s=46

I don’t have the right brain rn to write a full story out of this (fighting off the Enola Holmes hyperfixation omfg) but here’s some random hcs/thoughts. This is set after the end of the game (no spoilers or anything) if y’all decided to live in the city or smth idk, just above ground

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: none

Word Count: 556

Main Masterlist

First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

You always try to sleep in

Always

And you always try to keep him with you when you do

He’ll meditate or sleep for his 4 hours (if he’s lucky enough to avoid nightmares) and just be laying there until morning, cuddling you

And then he’ll get restless as the sun rises, but the moment he tries to slip away, you’re wrapped around him like a vice

And no matter how long you keep him imprisoned there, you’re still utterly exhausted when you get up

When you were traveling across Faerûn, he thought it was just because of all the fighting and adventuring

But no

You’re just always tired

You probably take a nap on the couch in the afternoon, and he’s there with your head or feet in his lap as he works on something, or he’s straight up squeezing in to lay with you

If he doesn’t go to bed with you immediately, you have to go retrieve him

He’ll put off sleep at night for as long as possible, especially if his mind is being cruel to him

You’ll find him hunched over his embroidery or nose-deep in a book, and you’ll lean over the back of the couch and hug him from behind

If he doesn’t get to a stopping point fast enough, you’ll fall asleep just like that

Gods, how many times he’s had to carry you back to bed just because he’s too stubborn

You both have deep bags under your eyes

Both of you kissing under the others’ eyes as a cute little thing <333

If there’s a sun beam on the floor, and you happen to walk through it, oh boy he will find you on the floor taking a nap

He would move you somewhere more comfortable, but he doesn’t want to get burned, so he simply rolls his eyes and moves on

He does love it when you wake up from your sun beam nap and hug him, because he can feel the lingering warmth clinging to you

Sometimes he’ll have a nightmare late at night and cling tightly to you to ground himself

And he feels bad for it, but you’ll wake up, all bleary-eyed and slow-brained, and you’ll rub patterns into his lower back and pet his hair

You actively fight against going back to sleep just to stay up and comfort him

If he can’t calm down as easily, you’ll get up with him and make yourself coffee or a very strong tea to keep you sort of awake

Lots of late night convos during these moments

You sitting on the couch with your back against the armrest and Astarion spreading out along the length with his head in your lap

Or like laying on his stomach and pressing his face against your belly with his arms wrapped around your back

Oh yeah that’s the shit

You’ll always fall asleep before him, but he loves listening to your even breathing

He’d probably be annoyed if you snore at first

But then it grows on him and becomes too endearing

Honestly he probably gets so adjusted to it and so subconsciously tuned to it, that if you ever stop snoring just randomly in the middle of the night for whatever reason, he’s awake and just trying to figure out why tf he’s awake wtf

---

Tag List:

@satelliteapotheosis @hypopxia @flsalazar @beverlybeav @angelofthorr @emiemiemiii @marina-and-the-memes @aurasyn @furblrwurblr @cappsikle @mjmygd @thegirlsadventuresinwonderland @kindadolly @bloopthebat @pandimoostuff @chesb0red @black-star1472 @sessils @puppyg1rl666 @maruichio @cyber-dump-171 @katharynmarie @twinkliker3000 @cherifrog @catching-fire-in-the-wind @phantoms-fandom-blog @thespectacularspaceace @lynnlovesthestars @tototini @ashrio20 @bambamwolf87 @astarion-imagine-archive @thistrashisreadytobash @rosxtinted @bongwaterflavoredgatorade @the-lake-is-calling @nyxmainex @squid-killer

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frankcastleonlyfans · 2 years

Note

Daemons other kids get jealous of the bond between him and alyssa and they come to their mother for reassurance therefore Daemon finds out they feel this way and reassures them aswell? 🙏🏻🙏🏻

-🧋

𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐘, 𝐁𝐀𝐃 𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐘

pairing: dad!daemon targaryen x mom!reader

similar ask: "Do the kids not get jealous of how Daemon treats Alyssa compared to them? imagine them crying to they’re mom about it" – anon

warnings: child neglect ☠️, sorry i swear daemon doesn't do it on purpose, he's not a bad father, alyssa is for him what rhaenyra is for viserys, HIS ONLY CHILD ☠️☠️, reader is a good mother tho, baddest mom in westeros, this is a domestic scenario that i wrote thinking about my girl @holy-minseok prompts that she send me on a ask one day

author's note: hii 🧋nonnie, i'm SO SORRY that it took me SO LONG to work on this, but here i am trying to remind daemon that he has other kids. AND ALSO, the start of this is based on that scene between elizabeth and philip where they talk about their favorite between their children (season 4 and episode 4 of the crown). i'll write another one just for daemon and the boys.

reblogs, feedbacks and likes are appreciated. support your content creators 💓 please leave a comment if you like my work, and enjoy your reading.

gif by @elena-gilbert

· ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · ୨♡୧ · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ·

During one of your rare alone moments with your husband, you decided to open up about something that happened to you today.

"Something funny happened today." You mentioned, as you braid your hair, getting ready for bed.

Daemon glanced at you, as he stripped the bed sheets, "Really?"

"Yeah, I was talking to Rhaenyra about motherhood, and she described Lucerys as her favorite child."

Daemon frowned, trying to understand your point with that subject. "Is that interesting?"

"The way she said it was, without equivocation or thought. Who would do that?" You explained, watching Daemon from his reflection in the mirror in front of you. "Openly admit to preferring one child to another."

"Any honest parent." Daemon retorted.

"What?"

As your fingers stopped dancing on your hair, you turned your back to the mirror to face your husband, who now sat on the edge of the bed, facing you.

"Any honest parent would admit to having a favorite."

"Who's our favorite?" You asked.

"My favorite or your favorite?"

"Is it different?" You frowned.

Daemon nodded, "I'd say so, yes."

"All right, you first. Who's yours?"

Of course you knew the answer to that already, you were not blind. And frankly, Daemon never did much to hide his favoritism.

"Alyssa." He answered, without any hesitation.

You gasped, "You said that alarmingly quickly."

"Because it didn't require thought." The prince shrugged.

"Daemon!"

"And your favorite is..."

"I don't know." You stated, confused.

"Liar!" He accused.

"It's true! I really don't know."

"Your lack of self-knowledge sometimes is breathtaking."

"On balance, I'd say that was an asset." You affirmed.

"Well, do tell me if you discover who's your favorite." He said, getting off to bed.

Daemon had been out all morning, flying with Caraxes around King's Landing.

Alyssa wanted to go with him, but the boys started to complain that they wanted to go as well.

You had to make an intervention, otherwise Daemon would had taken Alyssa and left the boys behind.

So there you were, at the yard tent, drinking tea and embroidering, while watching Maegon and Rhaegon playing with wooden swords.

Alyssa was also trying embroidery, but the amount of times she had stuck her finger on the needle showed her lack of skills.

"May I please retreat myself? I'd like to go to the library." Alyssa asked, clearly annoyed that she wasn't in the skies with her father.

"Yes, darling, go on. Have a good reading." You smiled, sipping on your tea.

Dealing with Alyssa was quite complicated, because she was so much like Daemon.

And she was a woman, which made it even worse.

You were the only one who could tame Daemon. He would do anything for you.

But unfortunately, he was the only one who could tame her.

You honestly felt sorry for the poor soul who would have to learn how to control her someday, otherwise, your daughter would remain single forever.

That's probably Daemon's dream come true.

When they felt tired, the boys finally came to sit with you under the tent.

Maegon sat on your right, placing his little hand on your baby bump.

Rhaegon came behind you, giving you a little kiss on the cheek.

Although he was getting bigger with everyday that passed, Rhaegon never stopped giving you little surprise kisses.

"I'm sorry you couldn't go dragonride with your father today." You gave them a reassuring kiss.

"It's okay. We just wanted to spend some time with him." Maegon muttered, bitting on an apple.

"I mean, it's unfair that he spends most of his free time with Alyssa. He's only with us on the training yard, and that's only when Cole is unavailable and father feels like picking on Aemond and Aegon." Rhaegon blurted out.

You felt hurt that your own children felt neglected by their father.

Honestly, it almost sickened you. But you knew Daemon didn't do it on purpose, that's just the way he is.

You could tame him, not change him.

"I'm sorry you feel this way, son. Both of you." You caressed Rhaegon's short hair. He looked like a young painted image of his father.

"It's okay, mom, really. Alyssa spends a lot of time with father, which means we got a lot time with you. I wouldn't trade this for anything else." Maegon smiled, his violet eyes glowing with love.

"Same. Dad couldn't understand us like you do." Rhaegon took your hand in his, the one that caressed his scalp.

You knew you had no preference between your boys.

But you saw that between them and your little girl, who you're supposed to have a stronger connection with – since you're both women –, you couldn't question that you'd rather be with your sons.

A thousand times, you would rather be with your boys.

#daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x oc #daemon targaryen imagines #dad!daemon targaryen x mom!reader au #dad!daemon targaryen au #dad!daemon targaryen x mom!reader headcanons #🧋 anon

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doki-doki-imagines · 1 year

Text

Blue Lock in Edo period

Wrote these with otomes in mind LOL

Sae Itoshi The daimyō with wonderful red kimono and golden embroidery visit your family restaurant and wants you to cook for him for the rest of your life, or until he gets tired of you. Sae takes you to his castle and you are so excited to work for such an important daimyō; maybe your family will have a wealthy but modest life from now on. Too bad Sae also wants you as a concubine. He really can't understand your surprise when after giving him his tea he pushed you toward the futon, wasn't his intention clear from the start? Maybe not, the headbutt you just gave him still stings; "arrogant bastard, I'll never fall for you". But is it real? Or you'll fall for that dastardly guy, grown a little too fast, that wants to travel the world, but still has many insecurities? And will you be just one of his many concubines or something more will develop?

Rin Itoshi: The brother of the daimyō Sae Itoshi. Planning to get his revenge and take his brother's place. Can't suffer you from second one, just one of many concubines of his brother and another loss of time, he's sure of it. Then why he can't get you out of his mind? Why instead of warming his brother's bed you spend so much time with him? Your sweet words warm his body and make his heart beat faster and Rin can’t stand it; he has big plans, and he doesn’t have time for a silly crush. Not even when he notices you talking more with Sae and a green monster has his heart in a vice, dark emotions piling up. Will you be able to end his hatred and conquer Rin’s heart? Or you’ll be just one of his pawns?

Shidou Ryusei: The skilled ninja working under Sae, you meet because instead of using you as a cook the young daimyō found you clever enough to learn medicine and assist his best men in battle. Obviously, Shidou finds you so boring, that’s why he rather tease you endlessly to see your flustered expression while you patch him up.

“Wow you are so elastic Ryusei-sama! I suppose that years of training were really useful!”

“Yeah! That and breaking all my bones since I was a little child”

“W-What!? Are you kidding me, right?”

“…”

“Ryusei-sama! Don’t play with me!”

You are Shidou favorite toy and he can’t really let you go, meanwhile, your growing feelings for him make his teasing work even more! Will you be able to see behind the ever-smiling persona and discover his dark past? Or yours will remain just a playful banter?

Yoichi Isagi: Your childhood friend going down the path of the samurais. He always protected you and promised you he’ll always do. He works hard ‘till he becomes one of the best warriors under his lord Sae Itoshi, the same lord that now wants you all for himself. The last time you saw Yoichi he was just a small kid and now he is a young man, with brave eyes and a proud smile and Yoichi is smitten with you as much as you are with him. Too bad his lord doesn’t have nice intention and Yoichi knows he should be happy for his friend to go with such an honorable man like Sae, but Yoichi really can’t let you go with him, his crush of years ago resurfacing as strong as a waterfall. Will he always protect you from afar, or Yoichi will finally have you all for himself? Will he finally be able to pull you into his arms and kiss you silly with the sunset framing your faces like he always dreamt of?

Michael Kaiser: The eccentric merchant from an unknown land. You never know if he is trying to sell his merch or directly himself to you. You don’t know how his sellings can go that well, when he loses half of his time wooing you, but you have to admit that he must have some talent. Anyway, he talks too much

“Are all men from your land like you?”

“Do you mean handsome? Talented? Wonderful in the art of lovemak-“

“I meant annoying.”

“Oh. Well. No at any of those.”

Michael comes to your family restaurant as much as he can, flirting with you the entire time, always gifting you (and your relatives too! Damn buttlicker) fascinating objects from the various lands he visits. Will you fall for one of his many attempts? And will Michael be able to demonstrate that he is in fact as skilled as a merchant as he is in lovemaking?

Alexis Ness: The right-hand of his boss Michael Kaiser. His cute face attracts a lot of clients, both men and women and you fell for him like many others. Too bad he only has eyes for his boss and he thinks you have too. That’s how your rivalry starts, a rivalry that lives only in Alexis’ brain since you have zero to none interest in Michael. How can he not see that the sweets you made are exactly his favorite ones? Or that your eyes sparkle in that beautiful way only when you look at him? But what’s worse in Alexis’ mind is that he can’t think of his Michael as much as he used to, his mind is always full of ways to defeat you, and finally shout that he won and maybe kiss you, then pulling away the obi that tie your kimono and bed you and oh no; his mind is only filled with you after all. Will Alexis understand that it is not hatred the emotion that is eating him, but love? Or the impending war will destroy any chance you have?

#bllk x reader #bllk imagines #blue lock imagines #blue lock x reader #sae itoshi #sae itoshi x reader #rin itoshi #rin itoshi x reader #isagi yoichi x reader #isagi yoichi #shidou ryusei x reader #shidou ryusei #michael kaiser #michael kaiser x reader #alexis ness #alexis ness x reader

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dotieeee · 3 months

Text

The Gamemaker's Apprentice

Level 12

Pairing: Dark!Young!Coriolanus Snow x You, named!Reader

Overall Warnings:

NON-CON, DUB-CON, Dark!Young!Coriolanus Snow, Snow himself should be a warning, lots of blackmailing, gaslighting, manipulation, obsession, possesiveness, eventual forced marriage, eventual loss of virginity, breeding kink, canon-compliant major character death, reader is named but has no physical descriptions in the fic so one might also consider her an OC but in 2nd POV, will have canon inconsistencies, drugging, somnophilia, and other stuff that may be added

Masterlist

Level 12 Warnings:

The blackest of mails, like vanta-blackmail lolol,

Replay Level 11

Ready? Level 12 Start:

The satisfied hum on the other line almost makes you throw the receiver into the wall.

“You win, okay? Let my uncle go.” You’re unable to hide the tremor in your voice as you concede. Coriolanus lets a pause pass before responding.

“Sugarplum, I’m happy you finally see things my way, but I think that’s a conversation best had in person.”

“I think it’s fine just this way, Coriolanus.”

“Now, don’t be stubborn,” he admonishes. “I will have my driver pick you up from your home in thirty minutes and bring you to me. We have much to talk about.”

Good grief. Obviously, you’d rather put in your safe space and not face him now – hell, not ever – but he’s been holding all the cards since yesterday and his tone isn’t giving you room to argue at all.

“Nellie. Thirty minutes.”

His almost-warning is followed at once by the dial tone. Having no choice, you use the remaining time preparing to head out. The warm bath you take takes a little bit of the tension off, but by the time you get inside your ride to Hell, it returns tenfold, and nothing you do save the fidgeting on the hem of your coat gives you a modicum of comfort. You arrive at the luxury apartment building where a valet opens the car door for you, and the doorman escorts you to the private elevator.

And just like that, you find yourself ringing the doorbell of Coriolanus Snow’s – now apparently your fiancé’s – penthouse.

A maid opens the door for you and motions to take your coat, before leading you to the living room. She then disappears, presumably to call for the master of the house, leaving you standing in the middle, fiddling with the hem of your dress and half-wondering whether you should make a run for it.

“Good morning, sugarplum.”

Ah, the said master of the house.

You look up to see Coriolanus grinning at you from ear to ear, wearing a thick designer crimson bathrobe with golden damask embroidery with matching house slippers. You freeze in place, which he takes advantage of; he places his arms around you and plants a single, lingering kiss on your lips.

Pulling away as he nudges your chin, he says, “You’ve made me very happy by just coming here. Have breakfast with me; the chef should be almost done.”

If you hadn’t been at a disadvantage, you’d have reacted incredulously at the nerve, as if he’s invited you here for mere casual chitchat.

“I thought you said we were going to talk,” you say.

“And we shall,” he replies. He puts an arm around your waist and, steering you into the dining room, he adds, “But first, you need to eat. When was the last time you ate anything, sugarplum?”

The smell of bacon coming from the kitchen invades your senses, and to your absolute mortification, that’s when your stomach chooses to betray you by grumbling audibly. Coriolanus laughs heartily, and for a moment you’re reminded of the days you spent with him as friends – and yet here you are now, ensnared and trapped by that friendship which you now know was just a front.

“I can’t have my future wife starving herself and risking her health,” he says with a smirk, pulling back a chair for you to the left of what you assume is his seat at the head of the dining table.

The table has been set lavishly with silver cutlery and fine chinaware, and in a few moments, you’re both served by the maid a steaming cup of tea, followed by a plate of eggs benedict with arugula salad on the side.

Breakfast breezes by quietly, with your eyes fixed on your plate as you chew mechanically while he steals glances at you in between bites. He urges you to finish off your plate, which you comply with just to get the entire thing over with. Once he’s satisfied, he motions for the maid to clear the table and gives her one final order as she curtsies.

“Clean up, and then you’re free to go home for the day, as is the chef. My betrothed and I will need the privacy.”

You wish he’d stop referring to you like that, but it’s not like you have a choice in the matter.

Coriolanus takes you back to the living room by hand and offers you the loveseat. He then takes his place beside you with a contented sigh as he turns to face you with his legs crossed and his back leaning against the backrest.

Well-fed in his bathrobe and slippers, he paints this relaxed, almost cheerful picture you could only hope to achieve. You scoot a little more away from him as much as the two-seater couch allows you to.

He takes your trembling left hand in his cold ones and kisses the back of it before placing it on his knee as he speaks.

“We have so much to do, so much to talk about, but first, let’s discuss the matter of our story.”

Ah, yes. He can’t really tell the public about ‘winning your heart’ by way of coercion, can he?

“I told Mr and Mrs Plinth that I have good news for them, so they invited us for afternoon tea and dinner.”

With his grip impossible for you to wrench away from, your hand remains on his knee, clenched at the prospect of revealing this devastating news this quickly.

“But, why now?” you ask. “Can’t we…I don’t know, wait? Isn’t this a little bit too sudden?”

He tilts a corner of his lips as he responds, “The twelfth Hunger Games is just two weeks away, and the Capitol will surely be happy to know that the two gamemakers responsible for its success are now tying the knot. I plan on announcing our engagement as soon as it finishes. There is no better timing than this, sugarplum.”

How typical of Coriolanus Snow to use the Games to further publicise this farce of an engagement and shift the limelight to himself. All that aside, however, you have only one focus which he hadn’t yet touched.

“And what of my uncle? Has he been released?” you insistently probe.

“That depends entirely on your cooperation today, sugarplum,” he says as he draws circles absently on your hand which he still clasps. “If you follow my instructions, if you stick to our story, word per word, I might be inclined to let him go home by tonight, just like nothing happened. If not…”

His grin grows colder and wider – an ominous sign that this isn’t going to end well for you and your uncle if he doesn’t get his way.

“Your uncle will stay detained, and by tomorrow I will give the order to have him exiled somewhere in the Districts. I’m feeling generous today, so I’ll let you take your pick, save District 3, of course.”

His other hand reaches out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear before asking, “So, will you be good today, and do exactly as I say?”

Numbly, you nod once. He just tuts and tugs your hand to bring you closer.

“Use your words, sugarplum,” he whispers.

So, you swallow that lump in your throat, your voice shaking as you say, “Yes, Coryo.”

As an approving smirk grows on his face and victory dances in his chilling blue eyes, you get an overwhelming feeling that you’re going to have to get used to saying that more often.

“Good girl,” he praises.

He gets to his feet at once with a quiet order for you to stay put as he exits the living room. Before you could even know what for, he returns after but a few moments clutching something with his hand you can’t see. You watch, confused and increasingly dumbstruck, when he bends on one knee. With your faces now level, he peers into your eyes as he reveals what he’s holding in his hands:

A red-velvet jewellery box, the lid of which he flips to unveil a ring; at its head is the largest emerald-cut diamond you’ve ever laid eyes on, with its white-golden band accented with smaller round diamonds at its shoulder.

Clearly pleased at your reaction, he uses your momentary stupefaction to explain, “I could’ve done this more properly and in a better setting in the near future, but I suppose this will have to do.”

Coriolanus pries the ring off its case and very gently slips it on your left ring finger, where it stays there in its glimmering radiance, weighing down your hand and almost mocking you with its implied permanence. As if to seal your fate further, he captures your lips with his in a searing kiss that raises the hair on your arms and the back of your neck. His tongue pushes past your lips insistently to make you respond – instead, you turn your head away and break it off. You’re breathless, partly because of the kiss, but mostly because this is now happening – you’re going to have to get used to kisses like these and you’re really now engaged to Coriolanus Snow – and any chance of getting away from him is smaller than it has ever been and will likely vanish entirely as soon as the Games is over.

He lets out a sigh of displeasure the moment you break the kiss.

“Sugarplum, when I said, ‘do everything I say,’ this is part of it,” he chastens, but he lets out another exhale and shifts to his previous carefree mood. “But like I said, I’m feeling a little more lenient at present, so I will let that slide.”

He then smooches your exposed cheek instead before adding, “Disobey me again today, however…” he trails off with a suppressed chuckle – a warning not to fuck up again in his eyes – and briefly stroking your cheek before settling down once more on the seat beside you.

From there, he begins giving you his instructions – how to act and react, how to respond to anticipated questions, and most importantly, how to defer to him when it comes to matters you haven’t brushed over. He gives you room for questions and objections, but to these, his explanations are clipped – and since he won’t allow opposition, you try to keep your dissent at bay no matter how much his orders appal you. He doesn’t stop pressing you until your performance is every bit as perfect in his eyes. You don’t finish until about half-past twelve, when he asks if you’d prefer going out to eat for lunch with him or have it ordered in; both of which you refuse at first, but you opt for the latter the moment you see his eyebrows start to furrow.

Once the food arrives, he says something about getting ready to go out for an important Sunday errand before sauntering away. He leaves the apartment, but not without a kiss on your forehead. You let enough time to pass for him to have left the building entirely before you run to the door and shake the knob open, only to find that he’d locked it from the outside, and no matter what you do with the keypads on the inside, it would not budge.

No way out of this glorified cage, it seems.

You get the inkling that you’re going to have to get used to being locked in this apartment from the outside more often.

“Oh, my goodness, Nellie, my dear!”

You’re encased in a huge, warm embrace the moment a delighted Ma Plinth sees you cross the threshold of their Corso home. You return the hug gladly, almost melting into her arms.

“Ma, I’m so happy to see you,” you whisper in an almost pained voice. You needed that hug so badly, you realise.

Ma pulls away to cradle your face as if to get a better look at you. “Oh, it’s always a pleasure to have you,” she beams brightly before that smile turns into a small, worried frown. “How are you? Have you been eating and sleeping well, sweetheart? You’ve lost a little weight.”

“I have?” you mutter absently. Not that you really care what you look like right now; you’re just glad to be with a friendly presence for once in your Uncle Cas’s absence.

From behind you, however, Coriolanus places a cold hand on your shoulder, overwhelming the warmth Ma exudes.

“I’ve made it my personal mission to make sure she’s taking care of herself, Ma, but my sugarplum can be stubborn at times,” he says teasingly.

Ma lets out a lilting laugh before him in for an embrace. Once the maid has taken your coats, you follow the two into the lounge, paying their animated conversation very little mind as you go over in your head silently the things you’re supposed to say and the topics you’re supposed to avoid and defer to him. The three of you are eventually seated at a small round table by a tall window overlooking the Corso circle, where you’re served hot tea and an assortment of teacakes and pastries, which both Ma and Coriolanus urge you to eat as much as you’d like. Mr Plinth arrives shortly, so you and Coriolanus pay your respects by getting to your feet and greeting him. Plinth senior returns the gesture by shaking Coriolanus’s hand firmly and pulling him in for a brief one-armed hug and a clap on his back.

“Strapping young man, as always,” he comments with pride. Turning to you, you extend a hand to him as well, but he says, “None of that, my dear girl, we’re practically family!”

He gives you the same one-armed hug and smiles warmly at you, before motioning everyone to take their seat.

After he’s served some tea by the maid, thus begins the inquiry.

“So, Coriolanus, what is this news you bring? I can tell it’s something good,” Mr Plinth asks with a bright, expectant smile. Like he already knows what it is but he’s waiting for your companion to spill it. Ma wears the same look, sipping her tea but looking over her cup excitedly.

Coriolanus’s right laces with your left hand – the one bearing the token of imprisonment masquerading as an engagement ring – over the table where it’s clearly visible to the Plinth couple. You force yourself to smile at him like he had instructed, which he returns. He seems over the moon, a genuine display which you’re mildly surprised he’s still capable of, when he starts to explain.

“I suppose it could’ve waited until dinner, but I was too overjoyed at the news.” Pausing to lick his lips, his posture straightens as he continues, “Just the other night, Nellie made me the happiest man in the world by accepting my bid for her hand in marriage.”

Under duress, you inwardly add.

The gasp that Ma lets out is immediately drowned out by her husband’s loud ‘Ha!’ and if that doesn’t tell you he was expecting this bit of information, he says jovially, “I knew it, I kept telling everyone that you two children were bound to get there.”

Ma lets out a teary ‘oh’ while she clutches her chest, gushing over the way Coriolanus grips your hand and gently runs the pad of his thumb over your knuckles. She bursts into quiet sobs while Strabo pats her on the back and holds her hand.

“Oh, you kids!” she exclaims amidst tears of apparent joy. “I’m sorry, I’m just so happy you two have finally decided to settle down together. It’s just so obvious you’re meant for each other.”

Strabo pulls a handkerchief out of his coat pocket and hands it over to his wife, who proceeds to wipe her tears demurely, and says, “About time, too! Congratulations, both of you.”

“Thank you, sir,” Coriolanus replies.

“I’m just glad Nellie finally gave you a chance! I was starting to think your famous charm had finally found its match, my boy,” Strabo teases.

Coriolanus’s eyes twinkle when he catches yours and kisses the back of your hand to further drive this image of a couple head-over-heels in love with each other that he wants to portray. And just like he wanted, you give him a smile, which is getting increasingly harder to do while you battle with your inner self to keep you from breaking character.

For Uncle Cas, you remind yourself.

Your fiancé goes along with the jest. “I’m certainly lucky she did, sir. I would’ve otherwise resorted to other measures to make sure she ends up with me.”

This earns a laugh from the married couple across the table, making them miss the rather knowing glint that passes over Coriolanus’s eyes.

Jokes are half-meant, so they say.

When the joyous tone dies down a bit, Mr Plinth brings up a topic that Coriolanus had anticipated and trained you with.

“What of Acacius? Does he know? Your uncle should be here as well, should he not?”

Those blue eyes tell you what you don’t need to be reminded of: don’t fuck it up.

With your hands on your lap, you slowly say, “He’s aware, sir, but it’s...a little complicated.”

“How so?”

“My uncle didn’t approve, and we’re currently not on speaking terms,” you explain with rehearsed ease. Just like he told you to.

Back at his apartment, he had ordered you to stay away from your uncle, which he claims is to corroborate with the story of him not approving the match. To you, however, it’s likely just to keep you and your uncle from planning ways of escaping his clutches.

As if on cue, Coriolanus holds both your hands on your lap and squeezes, making it look like he’s trying to comfort you.

“Oh, you poor dear,” Ma whispers empathetically.

“Well, that is absurd,” Mr Plinth nods to himself with his brows stitched together. “Acacius should know better than to interfere with the decision of two consenting adults! Quite frankly, I’m disappointed in him, given his speech back...” he seems to catch himself, possibly to refrain from mentioning a certain meeting you weren’t privy to.

“But, never mind that,” he amends. “Perhaps I should have a word with him.”

It’s Coriolanus who speaks this time. “I appreciate the gesture sir, but Nellie and I have decided to give Mr Innis time and space to come around. If that’s what he needs to accept our decision, we’re happy to give it to him.” Then he adds with a soft smile directed at you, attempting to lighten the mood, “The last thing I want is to put pressure on my future in-law.”

Mr Plinth hums to himself and bobs his head in affirmation. “You have a wise head on you, my boy. I think that’s for the better.” Turning to you, he says, “I’m sure your uncle just needs time to think. After all, it’s understandable – to him, you’re his daughter, and he loves his little girl too much he can’t bear the thought of losing you, even if it’s to a man who clearly loves you.”

“Thank you, sir,” you say.

Ma mirrors her husband’s words and adds, “Nellie, once he sees how genuine the love is between you two, I’m positive he’ll give you his blessing.”

Coriolanus thanks both for their support and takes this time to veer into another matter he’s rehearsed you with.

“I’d like to also announce, Ma, sir, that I’ve taken it upon myself to let my Nellie stay in my apartment for the time being, given the circumstances; this is my way of giving you a heads-up.”

Another one of his mandates which just cements your initial idea that he wants to keep you under his watchful eye to prevent you from running away. It’s despicable, but like anything he does, it’s efficient and well-thought-of. The idea, however, is met by silence, followed by the couple exchanging unsure looks. You can only hope that their more traditional views would mean they’d be against Coriolanus’s rather bold move.

Ma, who seems hesitant, asks him carefully, “Why would there be a need for Nellie to move into your home, Coriolanus? This...this is a huge, uh, step, even for engaged couples.”

Once more, Coriolanus’s eyes find yours, and he gives you this look that you interpret pretty well: ‘Do it exactly as I said.’

So you swallow any reservations in you and explain the ‘mutual’ decision.

“After I told Uncle Cas the news that Coriolanus and I got engaged that night, we got into an argument. He said a few things that didn’t sit well with me, so, I decided to just pack my things. I ran away yesterday at dawn. I didn’t think I could live with my uncle anymore, not when he couldn’t see fit to respect my choice.”

Lies. All lies. And you’re getting to be quite the good liar, yourself. Then again, you’re learning from one of the best out of all of them.

“Oh my,” Ma says as she places her fingers over her lips in distress. “I’m sorry, my sweet girl…” She reaches over to you to clasp your hand momentarily before letting go.

This is Coriolanus’s turn to interject. “I caught up to her that morning trying to board a train to her aunt in District 3.”

Ma lets out a gasp of shock and Mr Plinth raises his eyebrows in alarm. To appease the couple, you add, “I admit it was a brash move, but I had nowhere else to go.”

“Nellie,” Ma says in a chastising tone. “The Districts? It’s not safe, even if you have family there. You could’ve gone to us instead.”

“I’m sorry, Ma – ”

“Nevertheless,” Coriolanus cuts off, as he once more reaches for your hand over the table. “We talked it out, and I made a choice to offer her my place. I am willing to take her in, as is my duty as her future husband. Besides, better that, than gambling her safety in the Districts. I’d be more at ease if I knew she’s safe and I can protect her should the need arise.”

The Plinth couple, visibly concerned with your predicament, exchange looks, as they contemplate their verdict.

Please say no. Please say no.

Finally, The Plinth senior lets out an audible exhale and gives Coriolanus a firm nod.

Rats.

“A wise decision, then,” Strabo says with a smile of approval. “You have my wife and I’s full support, Coriolanus. I’m proud of you for stepping up, young man.”

The young man in question sighs in relief – another point on his proverbial scoreboard – as your insides wilt inwardly. To you, this just means you’d never get to interact with your Uncle Cas anytime soon, given that he’s now been painted as the villain in this fictional love story.

“Well, then, let’s not let this joyous day be eclipsed by mere unfortunate events,” Strabo declares. “We should be celebrating. You two youngsters, most especially!”

Ma continues to sip her tea and says cheerfully as her hand finds her husband’s, “Indeed, this is a wonderful occasion. Can you believe it, dear? It seems only like yesterday since Coriolanus announced over dinner that he’d set his eyes on Nellie, and now here we are!”

As you sip your tea in silence, your fiancé chuckles heartily over a bite of a chocolate macaron. “I know, Ma. Time does fly by. But so you don’t feel left out, sugarplum, I told them about a year ago that I planned on marrying you.”

You smile at him like a trained pet, but knowing he planned this a year ago, probably even more, is nothing but jarring.

“And have you talked about when the wedding will be?” Strabo inquires.

His honorary son and his wife seem to pass each other knowing smiles, before Coriolanus responds, “Yes, sir. I originally intended for us to marry by January, but we’re now leaning towards the end of the year, perhaps by December, if all goes well.”

By the end of the year. You’re not even close to graduating college yet.

A lighthearted conversation ensues until five thirty, with everyone entirely oblivious to your inner turmoil. When Ma excuses herself from the table so she can supervise making dinner herself, you volunteer to help – Ma looks extremely pleased at this – just so you can get away from the stifling presence and keen scrutiny of your so-called groom-to-be.

“Come, Nellie dear, it’s time we had a chat, just the two of us girls,” she says with her eyes crinkling as she links both your arms. Gratefully, you allow yourself to be steered away into the kitchen where those piercing blue eyes can’t reach you and it’s only Ma’s reassuring presence that’s keeping you company.

There are maids already awaiting their orders when you enter, but Ma instructs them to retire early for the night so she can have the entire kitchen to herself. Once they exit, Ma instructs you to chop some onions.

“We’re having copadia* tonight,” Ma whispers excitedly as she begins toasting some peeled almonds on a skillet.

Curious about the dish, you ask, “Won’t that take three or more hours to finish, Ma?”

But she just winks at you and whispers mischievously, “I have my ways.”

You do as you’re told, quite looking forward to watching Ma perform her magic on the food she makes. You’re halfway through the onions, seeing to it that they’re sliced evenly, and while Ma begins crushing the toasted almonds in a marble mortar and pestle, she peers into your eyes with an anxious look.

“Nellie, tell me something: how are you in all of this?”

Maybe it’s the way she asked so gently, kind of like how you imagine your own mother would if she was alive, or maybe it’s because of the pressure building up inside you that you can no longer contain, and without your Uncle Cas, you’ve no one else to confide to – whatever it is forces a rush of bottled up emotions in the form of sobs you can barely control, making you pause your task completely. Familiar warmth envelops you, and you find yourself in Ma’s arms as she whispers into your ears.

“There, there, dear child, it’s quite alright,” she coos, rubbing your back to soothe you. “Your uncle will come around, you’ll see. It’s okay to feel overwhelmed, too; I felt quite the same before my wedding, but Strabo’s a good man; as is Coriolanus. I know he’ll do anything and everything to make you happy. And I’m sure you’ll make the perfect wife for him, and a loving mother to your future children.”

The warmth you’re basking in vanishes completely with her last sentence, making you let go first. Ma cups your face to wipe your tears with her thumbs, her kind eyes glimmering with unshed tears at what she perceives as your dilemma.

No, you can’t possibly tell her the truth about the kind of man she just let into her home and her family – the knowledge alone would break her.

So, instead, you whisper your thanks, and she returns to her side on the kitchen island to continue pounding the almonds. Likewise, you pick up the knife and resume slicing the last onion.

“I’m sorry if this feels rather intrusive, Nellie dear, but I have to ask: are you pregnant?”

The knife in your hand misses your forefinger by about three millimetres.

“Oh, dear, careful, that was close – but my question stands, Nellie,” she says gently, pausing her task entirely. “You can tell me anything, sweetie, I hope you know that.”

Vehemently, you shake your head. “No, Ma, we haven’t…b-but, why do you ask?”

She looks over her shoulder, before leaning closer and saying with a softer voice, “I’m not supposed to tell you this, but we may have been planning your reception since several months ago – don’t worry, we can make changes to anything you don’t like – but I brought it up because I distinctly remember Coriolanus being fine with the wedding dating a year after, at most. So, I was merely curious about the rush; that’s all.”

If they had been planning this accursed wedding behind your back, what other plans are they making and setting in motion? The kitchen suddenly doesn’t seem so welcoming anymore, and even Ma’s presence is beginning to feel foreign, if not hostile, altogether.

“Nellie, you’re sure you and Coriolanus haven’t…? I mean, I understand young couples these days no longer wait until their wedding night, and as I gather, he and you have been spending so much time together alone, so it’s okay if you’ve...slept together and protection slipped both your minds.”

Your skin prickles at just the thought. “Oh, Ma, please don’t worry,” you say; you even try your best to put on a reassuring smile, which you hope doesn’t come out as looking constipated. “I swear we haven’t.”

I would know.

“Alright, then,” she relents, nodding to herself. “Coriolanus is every bit the gentleman he appears to be, it seems. Oh silly me! I must look like such a busybody to you, barging in on your privacy like this; I’m sorry, dear.”

“It’s okay, Ma, I know you’re only looking out for me.”

Thankfully, she makes no more mention of anything related to the concept of procreation, and the conversation moves on to her methods of improving the ancient recipe.

From there on, the rest of the evening with the Plinths becomes predictable. There’s good food, as usual, which you attempt to enjoy; then there’s the inevitable shift to discussions of your work in the upcoming Games; finally, more talk of wedding preparations, which, although completely foreign to you, you feign interest in. This cycle goes on until tea after dinner and you still engage, now mildly desensitised to it all, watching Mr and Mrs Plinth interact with their found family. Somewhere along the conversation, someone has turned on the television, which is tuned in on this wildlife documentary of a lovely bird’s nest, with the mother and the father bird tending to their hatchling. Almost transfixed while the chatter goes on around you, you watch the lovely bird family as the camera pans to this white snake which had burrowed underneath the nest. It had just donned on likeness of the little hatchling after swallowing it whole, and it seemed to bide its time with the intent of devouring the mother and father bird as well. You can’t fault them for their nurturing nature – no one can – but there isn’t much one can do to help fix the now-infested nest, either.

As the night grinds to a halt, you say your farewells to the Plinth couple and obediently allow yourself to be carted off back to the car which will take you to your new living space – it’s hardly deserving to be called a ‘home’ – and Coriolanus lets out a drawn-out, self-satisfied sigh. Cupping your face from the side, he plants lingering kisses on your temple and on your cheek before whispering his praise: “You did exceptionally well today, sugarplum.”

You simply purse your lips the entire car ride.

He accompanies you from the car all the way to his penthouse door. Punching his keycard in, he ushers you inside and leads you to the bedroom beside his.

“This is your room now,” he says. “I’ve taken the liberty of moving some of your things from your old apartment. If they missed packing some of your clothes, I can always buy you new ones.”

Then he adds that he’ll be with you shortly after running an errand. What errand, he doesn’t elaborate, and you barely get enough time to look around the bedroom when you hear the apartment door close. He’s locked you in again, and this time, you don’t need even to confirm for yourself.

Snow lands on top.

The phrase he’s come to accept as the truth rings over and over Coriolanus Snow’s head before his day has even begun.

It started this morning at seven when everything began to fall into place for him. When things became right again, when all his years of planning, fantasising, and scheming, had finally bore fruit.

Prunella Innis had at last become his.

Well, you were already his, to begin with, but it’s nice to have you essentially admit it out loud. Overall, Coriolanus is relieved to find his winning streak still ongoing – the Games, the Plinths, your uncle’s work, and now, you, but even he admits this isn’t over. There is so much more work to be done, so many things to prepare for – all of it to so he can lock in your future with him, secure the Snow bloodline and move on to further his political ambitions.

The image in his head is clear it almost looks like a memory: you, standing beside him, timelessly beautiful as you always are, your arm clinging to his, your other resting on the shoulder of a blond-haired child, his son; his perfect, beautiful family wholeheartedly supporting him right before a herd of Capitol residents as they celebrate his inauguration as the President of Panem…

Every day is a day closer to this goal, and there is no one else left who might get in his way.

“Mr. Innis.”

Almost no one else.

Coriolanus made a promise to you this morning – that if you went along with the story he wants to portray to the Plinths, he’d have your uncle released – a promise he almost regrets making, seeing Acacius Innis in his cell, leaning back on his chair with his feet on the table looking perfectly nonplussed, even bored, like he’s merely waiting for his turn at the doctor’s office.

The thing is, you had exceeded his expectations by a mile, so what kind of husband would he be if he isn’t true to his word?

Coriolanus closes the door behind him. No one else, save his future in-law, has to be privy to the words he has to say.

“Snow,” Acacius greets with a curl of his lips. The chains binding his hands rattle as he rights his posture. “How’s the digging through my stuff going?”

Coriolanus almost raises an eyebrow at this nonchalant display, but he knows better. He simply takes the vacant seat facing the presumed former rebel.

“I did not come here to interrogate you, Mr Innis,” he says. “I came here out of respect for the man who singlehandedly raised and cared for my future wife. I’d like to thank you for protecting her all these years.”

Acacius crosses his arms and just shrugs half-heartedly. “I was doing a pretty good job with it, too. At least, until very recently.”

Now this, Coriolanus is genuinely perplexed with. Acacius Innis has always been adamant about securing your future, and in that, they share a common goal. Why the older man can’t see his way is beyond him.

“You’re shielding her from what, exactly?” he asks, an incredulous tone bleeding in his voice. “Achieving her true potential? From living a good life?”

“From nasty little cunts like you, that’s what,” the Innis patriarch sneers. “You see, Snow, I’ve been trying to keep her away from your grubby fingers since I saw you set your eyes on her on the night of her twentieth birthday.”

Coriolanus can’t help but twist his lips in the same contemptuous smile. “You’ve done your part. You don’t have to worry. I’ll take over her protection from here on out. This time, only I get to turn away the other ‘nasty little cunts’, as you put it so eloquently.”

A mirthless chuckle erupts from Innis senior. “Oh, yeah, you’ll do a great fucking job, I’m deeply reassured. I guess I should be more worried now about the people you’ll poison along the way.”

So, he knows. Even in duress, he can’t help the sarcasm. Coriolanus wonders if you’ll argue with him like this in the course of your marriage. That aside, he shouldn’t be surprised; the Innis prick, after all, has managed well in meddling with his affairs as of late.

“You know. How?”

“Which one? Highbottom, or Braun? Last time I checked, I’m what you call a math teacher, so, it was just like putting two and two together.” Acacius leans forward as if to drive his point. “I saw right through you, Snow, and although Nellie was late to it, she figured you out. She was smart enough to see who you really are underneath that fancy garb.”

That’s true, Coriolanus admits. It’s a trait he deeply admires in you.

“She got that from you,” he concludes.

“Oh, she got more than that from me,” Acacius says proudly.

“Clearly. She’s got your sharp tongue and your penchant for rebellion.”

“Good.” Acacius Innis laces his fingers as if he’s addressing a mere student. “And I’m assuming you’ll purge it all out of her. Anything that makes her who she is – save her brains, of course, because she’s the only one around here who can do what I can – but everything else, you’ll stamp out of her, so you can fit her into your perfect little world and put her in your high shelf like your perfect little doll. I suppose, compared to what you did to that Plinth boy, it’s a hell of an upgrade, isn’t it?”

Ah, so he’s deduced that, as well. Perhaps even before you did, given his free access to all the Citadel laboratories.

“You led her to the Citadel that day. You knew she’d make that connection herself.”

“Like you said: Nellie has my intuition.”

“Why did you do it?”

Acacius raises a derisive eyebrow. “You see, Snow, you’re not as clever as you make yourself out to be, because if you were, you’d have figured that out yourself. I raised that child like my own, but I’d rather her be dead than see her in the arms of an evil psychopath such as you.”

This time, it’s Coriolanus’s turn to get under the Innis prick’s skin, and he knows just where to strike a blow. Leaning forward to rub it in his face, he says, “Well, if I’m not as clever, Mr. Innis, she wouldn’t be living in my house right now, dutifully waiting for me to come home.”

An image of you lying in his bed in his choice of lingerie invades his mind, but he shuts that part of himself down. Plenty of time to indulge in that later.

If your uncle is fazed, however, he doesn’t show any outward signs.

“That must feel nice, right?” the Innis senior asks. “Having someone who loves you await your return? That must be how Sejanus felt as well. That kid was always writing to her. I risked a lot to make sure their letters don’t get intercepted, well except for one, which I think you have.”

“Ah, the letters. Is that how they avoided detection? Your little band of rebels doing all the leg work? I hope it was worth sacrificing your immunity for.”

“You did your research, I’m impressed. Have you cracked their code, yet?”

Unfortunately, no matter how hard Coriolanus tried, the code has since evaded him. A little roadblock, sure, but an inconsequential one in his eyes.

“The meaning of those letters doesn’t matter now,” he says dismissively. “Nellie is mine, and I think it’s in your best interests to accept that. After all, I’d like our children to have their grandfather around.”

The Innis senior just nods thoughtfully at his jab. What might make this old man crack, Coriolanus has yet to discover.

“But I also think it’s in your best interests to know that every letter they exchanged ended in the same gist: that they’ll be with each other soon to make a difference in this world. Nellie loved that boy you betrayed and, in consequence, executed.”

And then the meddling, cunning Innis prick smiles – the kind of smile Coriolanus loathes to his core – one that his old self has been given a lot to remind him just how powerless he was then. “You may have her, marry her, have children with her, but you’ll never have her heart. Which begs the question: do you truly own something if you don’t own it in every sense of the word?”

If Coriolanus Snow could just wrap his hands around the fucking prick’s throat, he would. At this point, he has to remind himself to keep his composure; he’d rather drink an entire bottle of rat poison than admit the Innis prick has hit a rather sensitive nerve.

He made you a promise.

So, he simply returns the venomous smile as best as he could and says, “Our plan is to be wed in six months’ time.”

“You mean ‘your’ plan,” Acacius says under his breath.

Coriolanus decides to ignore that. “We have decided that, due to your disapproval of our relationship, Nellie will stay with me and have no contact with you until you publicly announce your blessing. We would appreciate it if you’d attend both the engagement, which we should be announcing soon, and the marriage to show support and solidarity between our families. We’ll let you know when they’ll be.”

“I hope you get good cake. You already know her favourite,” Acacius says casually.

Seeing no further need to acknowledge him, Coriolanus finally gets to his feet.

“This isn’t over, Snow.”

Nor does he see the need to respond to that either. He wordlessly exits the cell and motions the peacekeeper standing on guard to remove Innis senior’s handcuffs. He’s fulfilled his promise to you, but perhaps he can think of other ways he can get Acacius Innis as far away as possible from ruining what he’s worked so hard to build (save killing him because that would just break you).

All Coriolanus needs now is for him to make a single misstep.

You groan audibly as you wrench the doors to your closet open.

Having come out of the shower from the guestroom’s private bathroom, you proceeded to raid the adjacent walk-in closet for your pyjamas, but you didn’t find a single pair of them anywhere. Everything else the movers didn’t seem to miss.

So, when you hear Coriolanus arrive, you step out of the room clad in only a bathrobe barely reaching your knees, hoping he knows where they put your pyjamas.

“Those looked old, so I bought you new sleep clothes instead,” he replies as he enters the guestroom closet. He pulls back the last cabinet door, which you’ve already checked.

“There’s nothing there but – ”

You stop midsentence as he pulls out a silk, crimson nightgown trimmed with black lace at the hem.

“I can’t sleep in that,” you protest.

Shrugging, he just throws the nightgown on the bed with a playful smirk and says, “Either that or keep the bathrobe on.”

At least he exits your room completely and closes the door behind him to give you privacy. Grumbling to yourself, you put on the nightgown to find that it’s a few inches shorter than the bathrobe. How bad can it be, you wonder? You’re just going to bed, anyway.

Even with the nightgown and the bed covers proving to be comfortable, sleep evades you for the next few hours. All you can think of as you toss and turn in your bed is Uncle Cas. Has Coriolanus upheld his end of the bargain? Has he ordered your uncle’s release? Is your uncle back at home and resting?

You place an ear to your door to listen for signs that Coriolanus is still awake. It’s awfully quiet outside, so you risk stepping out of the bedroom and noiselessly amble around the apartment for a single platinum-blond hair of him, but he isn’t in any of the open rooms you peek into.

“This suits you much better than the bathrobe, sugarplum.”

You gasp as you turn around, finding yourself inches away from bumping into Coriolanus Snow himself. He has to bend a little to peer into your face given his massive height, so you almost cower at the way he leans into your space. He’s gotten so close you catch a whiff of his usual rose perfume along with notes of something else you’ve never smelled on him before.

“Coryo, have you been drinking?” you ask.

He flashes you a smirk as he replies, “A little. I had a tough conversation a while ago.”

You can’t help but tilt your head curiously at him. Who and what could’ve ruffled the feathers of the great Coriolanus Snow?

“What happened to my uncle? Where is he?”

“Why would you want to know that? What purpose would it serve you?”

You almost groan in annoyance at him needlessly beating around the bush. You just had the roughest day in your life, being engaged to him, and you’re not sure you can handle a tipsy version of him. “Coryo, just...stop jerking me around and tell me. Please.”

He just hums, walks into the living room and plops down on the loveseat he seems to favour. He pats the empty space beside him and says, “Come and sit with me.”

So, you do, while keeping as much of a distance between you as much as the sofa can give.

“What would you give me in return, sugarplum?”

“What?”

“Quid pro quo,” he says with an increasingly wider smirk. “I can keep the knowledge to myself, but if you’re willing to make this interesting…”

Coriolanus inches towards you as he draws closer. Those blue hazy eyes are fixed on your lips, and you shudder inwardly as his meaning dawns on you.

“Kiss me,” he gruffly whispers. “Or I could just go to bed…it’s an office day tomorrow, after all…”

But you have to know what has become of Uncle Cas, right? So, you swallow that lump in your throat, close your eyes and place your lips over his.

Surprisingly, he remains stationary and even allows you to break the quick kiss.

“Your first kiss was him,” he then blurts out. It comes out almost accusatory.

Oh no.

“How was it?”

“W-what – ?”

“How was it?” He grabs your arms, seemingly determined to get an answer. “Show me.”

“This has nothing to do with – ”

“I said show me.”

The way he growls that command of his and the manner in which he almost shakes your form shows you he isn’t taking ‘no’ for an answer. Whatever point he’s trying to make, he isn’t letting go of it anytime soon, so once more, you kiss him, letting your lips linger a little more on his before letting go.

Exactly the way Sejanus did.

Coriolanus Snow just managed to tarnish a cherished memory of yours without even lifting a finger.

And yet, he just scoffs like it’s nothing. You try to wrench your arm away, but this time, he initiates the kiss – a longer, deeper kiss, pushy, almost, with his tongue demanding entrance to your mouth. When you keep your lips shut, he pulls away.

“Remember that fight we had?” he whispers into your lips. “You said I took everything from Sejanus. Not everything, then. Not yet. You were Sejanus’s love. His girl.” Then, as if to further make a mockery of your dead first love, he lets out a deep, throaty laugh, continuing, “I wish he was alive today if only to see his first and only love in my arms, kissing me as he did on the day he last saw you.”

Humouring him by sitting on the same couch was a mistake. You struggle against his hold, but he just pulls you closer.

“Let me go – ”

You lean further away from his face, but you don’t get too far away, not when his grip on your arms is still vicelike.

“Now, I get to do so much more than he ever did with you...”

In a single swoop, Coriolanus manages to pin you underneath his frame on the loveseat with your legs awkwardly hanging on the side, earning a yelp from you. Your heartbeat is pounding so loud in your ears as his warm breaths fan the side of your face – he’s taken your arms and pinned them above your head while he leans over your shaking form. Your attempts to budge are met with a displeased growl over your ear.

“Coryo, stop – ” you manage to breathe out, but you’re instantly cut off.

He’s just encased your lips with his, and his tongue roams your mouth hungrily – with every move of his lips, yours is forced to move as well. When he’s had enough, that mouth and its heated kisses travel to your jaw, finally allowing you to breathe.

But instead of an exhale, a choked sob escapes you.

Coriolanus pulls away reluctantly, adjusting his grip on your arms as he peers into your tear-filled eyes.

Finally, he states matter-of-factly, “You’re a virgin.”

Despite your distress at the vulnerable position you’re in, you retort, “That’s none of your business.”

“But it is. You’ll be my wife soon. I suppose I can tell you about my past to make it easier for you. There’s that one in the back alley, that was my first; you already know that. Then, a few after that...whores...”

His head dips into your neck, and he goes on to whisper over your exposed skin, “I want you to know that while I fucked them, all I could think of was you.”

Ignoring your frantic plea, Coriolanus angles your head and proceeds to lick, suckle, and bite all over the column of your neck to your collarbones. His bites become increasingly harsher, and from above you, you feel him grasp both your wrists in one hand, while his other travels downwards, roaming the side of your body and reaching the hem of your nightgown. That hand slowly caresses your thigh, lifting the gown in the process. As if that isn’t enough, he bucks his hips into yours, trapping you further underneath him and almost suffocating you in his warmth.

“Please, Coryo, stop…please…”

Your pained sobbing and begging seem to get to him. Coriolanus pulls away at last, getting one more look at you before he admits, “You’re right. We’ll have plenty of time after the wedding.” He pauses before adding as an afterthought, “Oh, your uncle has been released and all his confiscated belongings have been returned to him. I’ll see to it that your bag is returned to me, as well.”

You don’t get to see his face with your eyes full of unshed tears, so you only vaguely see him draw close and feel the chaste kiss he plants on your trembling lips before he gets off you and releases you completely.

As soon as he does, you scamper back into your room and push the lock on the doorknob. Still gasping for air in between crying, your eyes automatically land on a shelf in the room. You don’t why, but somehow you know it’d be there:

Your little bunny plush.

Somehow, the sobbing dies down as you make a grab for it, thanking whoever packed your stuff for somehow picking it up and adding it to the pile. You drag yourself and the bunny plush to the bed and burrow under the sheets. You hug Bunny as close as you can, squeezing it harder than you’ve ever held it.

Your uncle had been released from his cell in the Citadel, so that’s one problem crossed out, at the very least.

Just when you’re about to close your eyes, however, your fingers manage to grope at something solid – almost the side of your palm, thin and square – inside your bunny plush.

Enter Level 13

Author notes:

Please reblog and comment, it's always appreciated!

*copadia - ancient Roman beef stew

Alrigt, more Snowball assholery xD there are so many things in this fic I'd like to make commentary on, but please comment whatchutink will happen next lol

#dark!coriolanus snow #dark!coriolanus snow x reader #Young!coriolanus snow #young!coriolanus snow x reader #named!reader #or #x OC2ndPOV #18+ only #dark!coriolanus snow fic #dark!coriolanus #dark!coriolanus fic #dark!fic

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